Chapter Text
Sans' hands were shaking, along with his whole body as he sat on the floor leaning against a wall.
He was... tired.
Tired of having to deal with the constant loops over and over again. Tired of having to see his friends each cut down and turned into mere dust. Tired of being brought up to the surface and see everyone happy, him clinging onto that ever small hope that this would finally be his happy ending, only to be force back down into the monsters prison.
He.... He was tired of living.
After all, that was the reason he was sitting here slouched over cradling a folder, holding a small lined paper and in his hand a pencil.
He wanted everything to end.
He wanted everything to just stop. The resets, the deaths, the guilt, the memories. He just couldn't handle it anymore! He didn't want to handle it anymore.
His shaking intensified and he could feel tears already pricking at the edges of his eyes. He was tearing up already and he hadn't even written the damn note.
He didn't even know where to start. How could he start a note that his only family would see telling them everything and why? Tell them why he did it, tell them why he couldn't keep going.
He really didn't know where to start.
But he brought his shaking left hand to start anyways,
'Dear Papyrus,
I'm sorry.'
That's all he could think right now, because he is sorry. He's sorry for being a failure of a brother. He is sorry for the fact that he just can't be better, he can't be happy.
He is sorry that he's sunk this low, knowing exactly what his plan is and how he is going to go through with it. Even though, he knows it's going to break Papyrus.
He took in a shuddering breath, deciding to pick up writing again,
'I know you might blame yourself for what's happened to me but, it's not your fault , Papyrus.
You're the only thing that has kept me going for as long as I have. You're the only reason.
Lately though, it has been getting harder and harder to even get out of bed, do simple things, to take any amount of care of myself.'
Once the words started he couldn't stop,
'No matter what though, it wasn't your fault. I just I couldn't take it anymore.
I can't take how I can't even feel things I know I should anymore. I can't feel happiness, I can't feel anything. I'm worthless because of that, aren't I?'
Sans fought down a sob, which he didn't even understand. Why was he crying if he didn't feel like he should be? He didn't feel sad. He felt empty.
'I'm just really sorry.
I'm sorry I can't be strong enough for you, Papyrus.
I tried for so long.... You have kept me going for so long....
I'm just, so tired.
I can't go on anymore, knowing this will never go away. Things will never get better for me.'
Tears were soaking the paper and he was running out of room so Sans sloppily scribbled out with his shaking hand,
'I'm really sorry.
I love you.
I'll be back before you know it....
-Sans'
He felt the tears moving rapidly down his face as he folded up the paper.
He still felt numb as he reassured himself it would all end tomorrow.
No more misery tomorrow.
That thought made the numbness ebb way to a small amount of content, before it was swallowed back into his void of emotions again.
Tomorrow.
-----
Sans had been planning this for weeks and yet, he still hesitated. The note he had written was placed folded up next to him, on his bed.
Why is he hesitating now? A knife hovering next to his summoned soul, his soul emitted fear but he wasn't truly afraid.
He was afraid the first time he had felt himself die. But now? Now he didn't feel anything when he was murdered. Fitting.
So, why did he hesitate? Maybe because he knew Papyrus would be ruined but... he'd get over that.
Papyrus was always strong. Papyrus had always been strong, never wearing down. Sans on the other hand, had always been a failure.
Sans had always knew he was a failure since the day his HP had dropped from the 40's to 1. He was weak. Papyrus would be better off without him anyways.
Yeah, Papyrus would be better off without him...
Sans edged the knife closer and closed to his soul, both hands gripping it getting ready to lunge it into his soul, pulling back to make sure it would have momentum.
He counted down in his mind,
1
'It's for the best.'
2
'Everyone will be better off.'
3
'It will help.'
Sans took both his hands and forced the knife forward, feeling the flash of pain flair through his soul as his HP dropped, decimal point by decimal point. He could feel himself falling apart. Literally.
And then all of a sudden, the pain vanished. Right before Sans felt his soul shatter, he hoped that this would be the last time. The last time he would have to be alive. The last time that everyone would have to deal with him. He didn't want to come back.
And then, he felt himself fade into nothing. Leaving behind a dust covered hoody and tear soaked note, lying right next to the sharpened knife.
The world did not reset.