Sans x Frisk Short Stories

DustTale

Presenting DustTale!... is it though? I think it is.

WARNING! BLOOD, MURDER AND ALL THAT SHIZ SHALL BE MENTIONED!

Dust!Sans huffed as he slid down against a wall in an alleyway.

He had just finished another massacre, but then the police had to take part.

He killed them, but he got wounded.  Yes, the bullets went through him. But that doesn't mean none hit his bones and made them crack, or bleed.

'Maybe, I could have a nap...' he thought as he slowly closed his eyes.

Then he heard footsteps outside the alley, he kept his eyes closed thinking that the person would just pass by.

But then it seemed to stop at the corner before entering the alleyway.

It came closer, and closer, and closer.

Then his eyes snapped open and saw a figure crouched down in front of him.

A girl, around her early 20s. Chocolate brown hair and hazel brown eyes. Little button nose, and tanned skin.

Then he noticed the dull look in her eyes.

She stayed silent and took something out of her handbag.

Sans just stayed still, too tired to even care if she would hurt him.

But then she took out a handkerchief. She ripped them into five pieces and tied them over the cracked and bleeding bones. The bleeding slowed at the preassure.

Sans took a sharp in take of breath when the cloths touched his wounds, but didn't protest.

"Rest here." was all he heard before he passed out.

He woke up to see the girl sleeping beside him with some disinfectant and some bandages beside her.

He knew she might've bought those for him.

He reached out and carefully took off the pieces of cloth. He dabbed disinfectant using the handkerchief unto his wounds before wrapping them in bandages.

He quickly teleported to his house and wash the blood off of the cloth, blow drying them, and attempting to sew them back in a few minutes.

He came back to see the girl had shifted and ended up laying on the ground instead of leaning on the wall.

He put the handkerchief on her lap before whispering, "Thank you..."

Frisk woke up and looked down her lap to see a sewn and washed handkerchief.

She looked beside her to see the criminal she's seen on the news gone.

She stood up with a sigh and made her way home.

It was a long way though. She didn't live near the alleyway. She just happened to stroll by when she hoped for something.

Something no person would even want.

Death.

She did find death. But not for her. For the city's most dangerous criminal.

She didn't know why she helped exactly. Just that she hoped he might kill her. But then he was injured to the brink of death. And he can't kill her if he's dead, can he?

So she helped. She didn't want to leave in case the killer couldn't find her and kill her. She ended up sleeping beside him hoping to the stars he kills her when he wakes up.

But then she saw her ripped up handkerchief, all sewn back and washed clean.

She hated her life. She was depressed. But she can't seem to commit suicide. Like her soul refused to be killed by herself, so she wanted someone else to kill her.