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It started out as genuine curiosity.
You had a general idea of how human souls worked. You knew firsthand how magic could affect it, for harm or for good, and you were sure there were tons more aspects to be explored in that vein. But more intriguing than that was the thought; what happened if a soul was messed with in a physical aspect, rather than magical?
“that’s the thing about souls,” Sans had started when, after weeks of sitting on your thoughts, you finally decided to voice them. He leaned back to rest his weight on his arms, and you noted how relaxed he looked in that moment. Not the act he often put on, where he strolled along at his own pace and took everything in stride, because despite him being made of bones you could still somehow tell when there were shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep from the night before. When his jokes began to border on self-depricating and the white pinpricks of his eyes weren’t quite as bright, and you picked up on all these things because you went there too sometimes, but it made moments like this all the more sweeter and even when you yourself were down, you could at least feel your spirits lift a bit with the thought that your best friend was okay and happy. You made a mental note to drag him to the park more often. “they’re not really physical to begin with. s’all magic. and with humans, it’s the only part of you that’s made of magic.”
You watched Frisk, who was playing around with a group of children not too far away, while you contemplated your next response. Sans didn’t mind, he always gave you all the time you needed when it took awhile for the thoughts in your head to turn into words, and for those words to be arranged in a way that you were satisfied with. “So then, do you think that it’d basically have the same effect as touching a monster? Since you’re basically walking, talking souls with some dust for physical matter.”
“wanna find out?”
You almost thought it was a legitimate offer, before you turned your head to see him waggling his nonexistent eyebrows. A laugh bubbled up in your chest and you shoved him lightly, sputtering nonsense like “Oh, my god, I cannot believe you” and “That’s illegal. You’re illegal. Go straight to gay baby jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200”.
After the two of you had calmed down and the laughter subsided, Sans spoke again, “it might be like that, or it might not be. if any humans or monsters have answers, i bet they’re long gone by now.”
His words hung in the air for awhile. It was almost strange to think that these things could have been common knowledge, back when humans and monsters lived together on the surface. But after all those years of separation, it made sense that humanity would have forgotten the skill of pulling a soul out of its body, and anything related to souls disappeared just as monsters faded away into fairy tales and scary stories.
“if you're really curious, tori and asgore are your best bet.” Sans finally spoke up again. “if they can’t give you the answers you’re looking for, well,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug. “you’ve got a human soul. just don’t do anything too stupid, alright? tori’d have my skull if anything happened to you.”
You rolled your eyes. What did he think you were going to do? Play air hockey with the thing? “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
But curiosity killed the cat.
~
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--” You hissed under your breath. Your legs were trembling, and bleeding, and the logical part of your brain informed you that this was going to hurt like absolute hell as soon as the adrenaline left your system but for now the cuts littering your thighs just felt kind of warm. It was almost comforting, like your legs had become their own personal heating pad, a fact you could have appreciated more if the tightness in your chest and guilt in your heart wasn’t demanding-- screaming at you to hurt.
You were worthless. You were a royal pain in the ass. You deserved to be in pain, to be covered from head to toe in scars, to suffer as much as humanly possible, and to do it silently, because it was all self-inflicted and no one needed to worry about it, especially since at the heart of it all was you and your lousy mistakes anyways. You deserved to be alone, surrounded by people you loved and who loved you back yet whose love you couldn’t bring yourself to accept, because never once in your life would you have ever deserved it. For a fleeting moment, you thought, I deserve to be dead, before mentally correcting yourself, because you didn’t deserve that kind of relief.
Tears welled up in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and falling onto your legs. The saltwater stung.
Good, you thought bitterly.
Your left hand clenched the porcelain side of the bathtub you were sitting hunched-over on, and your right shakily pulled the small knife across the skin of your thigh once more. You were starting to finally lose your steam. Transfixed, you watched as blood began to well up from the cut, pooling together in small spots before gravity tugged at it and the red substance ran down your leg to join the other streaks.
A long sigh escaped your lips. You hardly ever cut very deep, usually just enough to see blood, but on the worst of days you could end up with around fifty slashes total. If you had to guess, you’d say there were thirty five, maybe forty new ones.
Without much thought, you placed the knife next to you and then cupped your hands to your chest, taking a deep breath, concentrating, imagining the very essence that made up yourself, and then pulled your hands away slowly, drawing out your soul along with them. It thrummed softly with energy, like your own physical heart would beat, and despite how dull and gray you felt inside it still glowed just as brilliantly and with as much color as the first time you’d seen it. The sight helped to calm you down some, and you carefully brushed your thumb against the surface, reveling in the warm sensation that covered your body and being. It felt like being held, being cared for and loved, even if you knew that you were your own worst enemy.
You did this a lot, when you were at your house and feeling particularly terrible, which you usually did there anyhow. Cradling your soul within your hands, curling yourself around it protectively, it gave off the feeling of genuine love, artificial as it was. Had you been at home, all you’d need to do was ask Toriel if she wanted to bake something with you, offer to take Frisk to the nearby nice cream shop, walk next door to the skeleton brothers’ house or across the street to watch anime with the resident anime-loving duo, make a short trip down the street to visit with Asgore, drink tea with him while looking out at his impossibly impressive garden. It was so easy to find love back home. But at your house, there was only your mother, criticizing you for your every move, and the times when she wasn’t around or awake where your own criticisms and self hatred filled the emptiness.
You didn’t have much warning before that self hatred began bubbling up once more, not so much steadily rising, moreso slamming into you like a tidal wave, unexpected and painful and it left you reeling for breath, trying to figure out which way was up and which was down.
Curiosity tugged at the back of your mind. What would happen if your soul was physically harmed?
Your soul was so bright, an absolutely beautiful shade of aqua, its surface silky smooth. Perfect.
You were overtaken with the urge to hurt it, make your soul just as ugly and scarred as you yourself were. It didn’t seem fair that it should stay preserved while you were in shambles. You wanted to turn its color into an ugly gray. You needed to see if you could crush it from the inside out until its glow disappeared entirely.
Self hatred and curiosity, a match made in hell itself.
Your knife was in your hand once more, pressed up against the blue-ish green surface, but not enough to harm it. What if this killed you? A part of yourself shivered at the thought, while another reveled smugly in the idea of your mother finding your body, for her to finally see the pain you were in. But then you thought about your family and friends, the real ones who loved you, and your confidence wavered.
Just a small cut. Just to see what happens.
Not a second later, the knife fell to the floor with a clatter. You curled in on yourself, gasping for breath. You should have figured it would feel something like when a monster’s magical attack made contact with your soul, but you never would have expected it to feel this intense.
Somewhere through the overwhelming pain, it occurred to you, oh shit, I think I'm going to die.
Eternity spanned only a few seconds, and the pain ebbed away into an inhuman calmness. There was no more hate, no more hopelessness, there was just… you. Standing in this metaphorical eye of the hurricane, trying to gather your bearings.
Lifting your head up, you could finally get a look at your soul. The cut was definitely small as you’d intended, a horizontal line marking near the middle of the right side. A white substance coated the injury line, consistency a bit thicker than blood. A soft brush of your fingers revealed it to be semi-sticky. You wondered if this was the physical form of determination, or just some sort of soul immune system thing. Or maybe it was you yourself.
Your thoughts and musings felt strange in your head. They were there, trying to determine what you were seeing, but there was no curiosity behind it. Not even any fear, as would probably be an expected reaction to a physically damaged soul. It was like your emotions had suddenly packed up and took a vacation, leaving behind a hollowness that you couldn't even bring yourself to be concerned about.
You’d never felt-- or rather, not felt-- this way before. But it was nice, compared to the distress you’d been in earlier.
After placing your soul back inside your chest where it belonged, you went to work cleaning things up, making sure the bathroom was spotless and your knife was tucked away in your sock and out of sight should you run into your mother. Exhaustion was suddenly dragging at your arms and legs, and you put up no resistance, collapsing onto the couch for the nap that was calling to you with all the temptation of the sirens. Despite the sensation of your legs practically being on fire, it took a matter of minutes for sleep to take you.
~
The numbness faded over the next few days, to your disappointment. It was so much easier to fake happiness when you felt nothing at all, as opposed to when you were weighed down by sadness. Still, you grit your teeth and dealt with your depression’s return as well as you could. The last thing you wanted was for this to become a habit.
You could survive without, you were sure of it.
And besides, things were starting to look up for you. You actually felt more happy than you’d been in some time, while you currently spent time with Asgore, perched on a tree swing. It had admittedly been put in for Frisk’s sake, but a couple years of knowing you should have been enough for Asgore to realize you would use it just as much. The king stood behind you, giving you a gentle push forwards now and then. Despite being twenty, you didn't mind the babying.
(Frisk liked to tease you about who was the younger sibling. You always let it slide, seeing as they were about to go into high school and their body was filled with whatever stupid hormone it was that made teenagers believe they’re already fully grown adults.)
“Have you given the offer any more thought?” Asgore asked, his words the very epitome of politeness. ‘the offer’, as if it wasn’t your idea to begin with. Sure, he and Toriel had taken your suggestion and ran with it, but you started it.
You kicked forwards a bit to gain a bit of momentum. Catching the hint, Asgore gave another push. “Yeah. A lot of thought, actually.” You paused for a moment to just enjoy the sensation of swinging. (god, frisk probably was right with all their teasing about you still being a child). “I’m… a bit worried about the thought of being considered actual royalty. Are you sure monsters are going to be cool with it?” You thought back to Asriel, the long-dead prince. Sure, there was little to no chance of Toriel or Asgore having another biological child, and from what you could gather, Chara would have been fullheartedly accepted as a possible monarch had they grown to be old enough, so the next two candidates were Frisk, their legally adopted child, and you, the basically adopted one.
Having come to a near standstill again, Asgore placed a hand on your shoulder. Most humans might’ve been intimidated by the size and possible danger, but to you it was just warm and fluffy. Comforting. You knew that he wouldn't want to harm even a fly, so long as he had a choice in the matter.
Most people hated him for what he was capable of when his hand was forced. You just felt sorry for him.
“Toriel and I both are positive that the other monsters will accept you with open arms. They already did so a long time ago.”
You wanted to point out, “yeah, but being friends and leading them are two entirely different things,” but instead you bit your tongue and nodded because backsassing Asgore felt like a sin.
“And, about your parents…”
You tensed up instinctively. Asgore always used a certain tone when he was talking about your mom and dad as opposed to himself and Toriel, and you hated that there has to be a distinction because you lost whatever love and respect you had for those two humans shortly before you fell into the Underground.
“Have you talked to them about all of this yet? Even if you do not want to officially become the new monarch, I am sure they would like to know that you will most likely be changing your last name.”
“Fuck what they’d like.” You hissed. You felt bad a moment later, but you didn’t receive any reprimands for your language. “Sorry,” you apologized, and you really meant it so you turned around to meet Asgore’s eyes to show it, even if the gross feeling in your gut made you want to just stare at the ground all day. “My dad’s hardly a part of my life anymore and I don’t care what my mom has to say about it, I'm becoming a Dreemurr. I’m twenty years old, she has no control over me.”
What a bunch of bologna, your thoughts chided you. You told them to kindly go take a hike.
“Still, if they are going to find out, perhaps it should be done sooner rather than later.” Asgore suggested gently, and damn if his smile wasn’t persuasive enough to ask anything out of anyone, no matter how ridiculous the request or stubborn the person (excluding Toriel, of course). This goat man could probably walk into a bank, politely ask for all of their money with a smile, and you could bet the entire safe would be drained in a minute, tops. Maybe his inarguable charm was one of the reasons he was such a great king.
“Alright, I'll tell her when I go back to the house tomorrow. But first,” you leapt out of the swing, swiftly turning around and grabbing Asgore’s hand before marching back towards your second home. “We have until twelve pm tomorrow afternoon and we are going to marathon as many terrible movies on Netflix in that time as possible, starting with The Room.”
~
Your conversation the next day went just about as well as expected.
Meaning, there was a lot of yelling involved.
“I’m telling you, those monsters are dangerous. You told me that most of your… ‘friends’... have tried to kill you at least once. I just don’t understand why you want to defend them like this.”
You clenched your fists, grit your teeth, and it took all the determination you had to find your voice. It was something you had been getting better at, after spending so much time around people like Undyne and Papyrus. And it was so much easier to defend them than yourself. “Because they’re all my family, god dammit, and hell of a lot better than… whatever the fuck this is!” You gestured from her to yourself to get your point across.
“Look at yourself,” your mother’s words were soft this time, with a look of sorrow that you had to tell yourself was fake. “You’re so much different than you used to be. I’d never even heard you cuss once in your entire life,”
That you ever heard, you wanted to spit, but that wasn’t the point and you didn’t want to let her drive you off topic.
“And once you came out of those caves, you were cussing, talking back, refusing to listen to me. You hang around lesbians everyday. You want me to refer to you like… like you aren’t anything at all. I raised you to know the difference between good and evil and as soon as these demons show themselves, you want to become one of them. They’re influencing you, can’t you see that?”
“Yeah, they’re magical, whatever,” You replied as soon as you could get a word in. “But all that stuff you just mentioned? I’ve been doing it long before I found the Underground. I used to be your little puppet, running around trying to meet your every demand, keeping my mouth shut when I started developing my own morals and realizing that yours are utter shit.”
Your mother was practically seething at the personal attack. You couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of yourself at the sight. At least, until she raised her voice as loud as you’d ever heard it before. “I’m just trying to protect you! I don’t want you to realize all of your mistakes after you’re dead. This is all a temptation from the devil, and I won’t let him have you without a fight!”
“News flash, mother,” You forced all the bitterness you could into the word. You’d just about had it with this woman. “I am a fully-grown and legal adult. I can disown you and cut off all contact at any moment if I damn well please, and I’d be lying to say I haven’t been tempted since the day I turned eightteen.
“If you hate them, you have to hate me too, because I might as well be one of them, and soon I’m going to officially be a Dreemurr. If you have a problem with that, you can take that problem and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. You know, kind of like what we humans did to monsters all those years ago because when we don’t understand or we’re afraid of something, we hate it, and we erase it.
“It’s human nature to hate. I know you believe we’re naturally flawed, right? Sin coming into the world and all that. It’s easy to hate. It’s so much harder to love. A flaw you clearly haven’t been able to get over yourself, for all your perfect, loving, Christian ways.”
The woman was actually speechless, gaping at you like a fish, despite all the moments she’d tried to make a rebuttal in the middle of the rant but you just kept going anyways. And since she didn’t seem to have any input now, you figured it was time to end this argument once and for all.
“If you want to believe that these sweet, loving creatures are all literal demons, then by all means, go right ahead. I, however, don’t care if I end up in the deepest pits of hell for it, I will protect every single one of them with my life if I have to.”
And with that, you strode past her, headed straight for your room. You locked the door, refused to open up no matter how many times your mom asked you to, with sweet words and fake apologies and frustrated threats and overused insults. As adrenaline from your argument finally wore out its stay in your system, your emotions ran haywire, and your thoughts were a mess.
You only lasted about an hour after you’d heard your mother go to bed before it was all too overwhelming. Your soul itched to be let out, a nearly irresistible urge now that you knew exactly what to expect. It looked a bit different than it had before, the color seemed off, and the mark you had made before had left behind an ugly dark gray scar that you tried to ignore as best you could. Instead, you shuffled around your bed until you were leaning comfortably against a stack of pillows, grabbed your knife from its hiding spot, clamped your mouth shut tightly in anticipation of the pain, and made another cut in your soul. It didn’t hurt as much as last time, or maybe it was just because you were prepared now. Within a few moments, your soul was back where it belonged, and you fell into a peaceful slumber.
By the time you woke up the next morning, your mother-- no, ex-mother-- had already left for work.
By the time she came back to her house in the afternoon, you had already packed your favorite items and left for home.
~
“Oh man, you said all that to her?-!” Undyne’s eye was sparkling in pride, almost to the point where you were afraid she was going to actually start sparkling and become the first case of anime, in fact, being real.
Despite being nervous when you were at the center of attention, you were absolutely swelling with pride at the moment. Maybe it was the fact that you were only hanging out with Sans, Undyne, and Alphys at the mall. The squad, as you ended up being known as, had somehow banded together on account of being more adult-like than the kids (Frisk and Papyrus), but not adult enough to be old (Toriel and Asgore). No one was exactly sure when it had happened, it just kind of did, and as soon as you all realized it, The Squad™ was officially a thing. There was just something about the dynamic of the group that somehow measured out decently. The anxious but sincere brainiac, the laid-back jokester (who also doubled up on braniac duty every now and again), the passionate and rather loud fish lady, and… well, you weren’t entirely too sure what you were. The others always said that you were the sweet one with a different type of humor than Sans’, so who were you to argue?
“Mhm,” you nodded, and popped another piece of pretzel into your mouth. “I think it was mostly my Determination talking, honestly. I can get pretty… defensive? protective? when it comes to people talking shit about you guys.”
“S-still, you always seemed so, um… afraid of your mom, you know? I don’t think I could’ve done that with a-all the Determination in the world.” Alphys spoke up, finally taking a pause from the carton of panda express she’d been focused on since you’d all sat down to eat. A chow mein noodle hung from her mouth, and you had to stifle a giggle at the sight.
“that doesn’t sound like a very goo-d idea, if you ask me.”
“O-oh my god.” “Come on Sans, I know you can pun better than that.” “TOO SOON.”
For about a minute, chaos reigned the table, its end marked by the combined efforts of you and Alphys finally talking Undyne down from lunging across the table and aggressively noogie-ing the very smug-looking skeleton. For at least some sort of retribution, you gently kicked his leg under the booth you were both seated at.
“So, um, b-back on topic…” Alphys started. “A-are you really planning on not going back there?”
“I might have to get some legal stuff sorted out, taking her name off of my bank accounts and all that,” Your stomach churned at the thought of facing your mother again, even a week after the argument. “But aside from that, unless she apologizes and tries to change, I don’t wanna have anything to do with her and her homophobic, transphobic, monster-hating face.”
Sans patted your shoulder approvingly. “i’m proud of you, pal. it must’ve been tough to leave like that, but we’re all here for ya.”
“YEAH!” Undyne punched the air enthusiastically, accidentally bumping into her plate of food and sending it all over the table in the process. No one even batted an eyelash. “Stick it to the man! Show him who’s boss!”
“Uh, Undyne, their mom i-isn’t a man…”
“FUCK THE GENDER BINARY!”
“Undyne please--”
You grinned brightly in the presence of your friends. In times like these, you were more than grateful to have these monsters by your side. You had no idea where you’d be if you didn’t have them to lean on. And soon, I can be there for them too. I swear I’ll be the best monarch I can be.
~
You were forcefully dragged from your half-asleep state by a loud knock. You flinched awake, took a brief moment to pull your thoughts together, and relaxed when you realized you were sitting at the kitchen table, Toriel in the chair next to you, and books littering the table, filled with everything from political jargon to ancient monster laws.
The goat woman fixed you with the glare, and that was enough to tell you that you’d messed up. “My child,” her tone was calm, filled with a patience that only skilled mothers can possess. “Can you summarize what I just read to you about?”
“Uhhhh,” you glanced down at the pages of the open book in front of you, trying to figure out the gist of it. “It was something about Boss Monsters, right?” You were vaguely aware of the gratefulness you felt that your soul hadn’t recovered enough yet to feel guilty and worthless at your mistake of dozing off in the middle of your lesson, because you were sure that you would be drowning in the feeling otherwise.
You expected Toriel to be annoyed with you, but instead her gaze softened. “Perhaps it is time for a nap. We have been at this all morning, and you have college classes you must attend to later, do you not?”
“It’s just art,” you argued. “I could sleep through half the class and still get all my work done. This is a lot more important, anyways.”
It’d been almost four months since you’d moved in with Toriel permanently, and a large amount of your time was now dedicated to learning all the basics of what you needed to know before “officially” becoming the next heir to the throne and all that. It wasn’t coronation, but there was a step below that before you could start attending important meetings with Asgore and Toriel, taking care of small royal tasks yourself, essentially your monarch training wheels. An heir that had grown up in the royal family their whole life would have picked up on all the lessons they needed and be taught whatever else they needed before the time came, but someone like you who had jumped into things last-minute had a lot of cramming to do. Fortunately, there were protocols for all types of different situations, and yours was no different (ignoring the fact that you were human and all, but Asgore and Gerson had been looking into that for awhile now).
Ideally, if there were no biological heirs to the throne, and the possibility of another being born was out of the question, another would be chosen, usually by adoption. Since Boss Monsters are so rare, and usually only related to the royal family, their soul magic-- something that all monsters possessed and it sort of acted like DNA would in humans-- could be passed onto another monster, essentially turning them into a boss monster as well. There were some limitations, such as the whole age magic thing not applying in that kind of situation, and there was still the question of whether or not it could even be done to a human, but in ideal circumstances, that would be the moment you were officially on the path to becoming the next leader of the monsters. It was also the day you planned on turning in all the paperwork to change your name, so you would be recognized as a Dreemurr in the human world as well as the monster one.
“Your wellness is more important than your lessons.” Toriel nuzzled your forehead before pushing her chair away from the table to stand up. “Your pre-coronation will not be going anywhere, I promise.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll go rest for an hour.” You relented, holding up your hands in surrender.
“I will be in the living room if you need me.” Giving your head one last pat, Toriel made her way across the room, pausing to turn and give you a soft smile, which you returned.
As soon as she was out of sight, you snatched the open book off of the table and tucked it under your shirt before sneaking off to your room. You appreciated her concern-- as much as you could in the state you were in, at least-- but you needed to be as prepared as humanly possible for this. Looking back, maybe your decision to accept your now future role wasn’t the best. You were in a near-constant state of worry nowadays.
How good of a monarch can I really be? I can hardly make decisions for myself, much less for an entire race. I wasn’t cut out for all this leadership stuff.
Well, to be more accurate, you spent most of your time not feeling anything at all. It was just such an improvement from all the pressure. I hate doing this, you would tell yourself whenever you gave into the urge to relieve yourself of your stress. I’m just doing this because I have to. Just until I get the hang of leading. No one wants a mentally unstable monarch. You ignored the dulling light of your soul, as well as the fact that you were becoming so unused to the feeling of your own emotions that almost any one, positive or negative, could be overwhelming enough to send you desperately searching for the nearest place alone where no one would stumble across you.
Inside your chest, your soul thrummed weakly.
~
You should’ve been happy when the information had been dug up that yes, it was possible for a human soul to be given magic from a Boss Monster and become a member of their family (not that you and Frisk weren’t, of course. But it just felt more… official, this way). It sounded unbelievable, if not for the fact that it had been recorded a couple times in history, before the old war had broken out.
You would have been happy to learn about all of this, if it wasn’t for the fact that some of the properties of your soul itself would need to be changed during the process, and that meant summoning your soul out of your body, at least in front of Toriel and Asgore. Maybe you should have expected this turn of events, but somehow you didn’t, and the news sent you reeling into a panic that left you cussing at yourself in your mind for somehow managing to leave your knife back in your room at your other home, only a ten minute walk but still suspicious at best with Asgore already here standing in the living room of Toriel’s home.
Your chest tightened, breathing became a struggle. The room-- filled with Frisk, Toriel, and Asgore, the family you loved with whatever scraps of your soul were still functioning at this point-- was too small, too stifling, you had to get out out out right now.
You pulled together the best grin you could, loudly announced that you had to tell Sans and Papyrus immediately, and booked it out of the house. Your guilt weighed down on your back, making walking feel like an impossible task, but somehow you were at the front door of the skeleton brothers’ house before you could fully register the fact in your mind.
You knocked once, weakly. Drew in a shuddering breath, blinked back your tears, and knocked again, harder this time. You were fully expecting to have a breakdown then and there on the front porch if you had to knock a third time, but thankfully two was all it took for the door to open.
Sans looked as laid-back and relaxed as ever for about a split second before he saw your face, and you could tell you must have already looked like shit by the way his permanent grin tightened around the edges.
His name was flying out of your mouth before you could even stop it. “Sans. I--” You tripped over your unspoken words, suddenly unsure of what to say. What was safe to say. What did you even want to say to him in the first place? It had to have been something, otherwise you could have just as easily ran off to somewhere else, but instead your feet had led you here. For the moment, you decided to skirt around the topic. “Papyrus?”
Despite your absolutely atrocious wording (or rather, lackthereof), Sans picked up on the meaning of your panicked sentence fragments. “he’s at alphys and undyne’s place, said something about a cooking anime.” You had no idea that such anime existed, but there were too many other things to think about than that. “looks like you got here in a hurry. wanna come in?”
You nodded, small enough that it would’ve been hard to catch if someone hadn’t been looking for it. Taking a breath, you tried again, “I need… I need to talk to you.”
“i figured as much,” Sans took a step back and opened the door wider, giving you enough room to slink by and scuttle over to the couch. You couldn’t help but think about how your every movement just reeked of guilt. A few moments later and the skeleton had joined you on the couch, leaning back with his arms behind his head. “so, what’d you wanna talk about? judging by your expression, i’d say it’s pretty serious.”
Your posture began to shrink more and more as the seconds ticked by and you couldn’t think of a good way to start. Really, there was no good way of putting this. On one hand, you could just drop the bomb and get it over with, but on the other hand instinct was telling you to defend your actions, build up some sympathy, do something before admitting to what you’d been doing for months now.
“hey, i’m not gonna press ya for answers or anything. just take your time, bud.”
You took a deep breath in, and then out. “Okay.”
Glancing over at Sans, his eye sockets were closed, and he almost appeared to be asleep, but you knew that his attention was still on you. It helped your nerves a little, not to be stared at until the words were forcefully dragged out of you.
“Please don’t be mad,” you started. It was unfair, you knew, to request this out of anyone, but you already felt like you were going to have a full-blown panic attack at any second, and you needed a safety net. You weren’t sure you could tell him otherwise.
Sans’ posture remained lazy as ever, but again, his smile twitched, and a couple beads of sweat ran down his skull. “i don’t wanna make any promises… but i’ll try, alright?” That was about as good as you were going to get, and you appreciated it more than anything.
“Asgore and Toriel… they found a way to imprint their magic onto me.” You paused, and a grunt from Sans told you that he was following. “but, I… I mean, I should have known this a long time ago, but-- it just… didn’t occur to me? And I know that’s really stupid but I have to show them my soul and I--”
Your breath hitched and your throat closed up on you. You grabbed at the fabric of the sofa below you tightly, tried to pull yourself together. Then, in a whisper,
“I can’t.”
There was a heartbeat before Sans spoke, “you can’t? or you won’t?”
You closed your eyes, but it was far too late and the tears were already falling. Reluctantly, you answered, “Don’t want to.”
You were sure Sans was putting the puzzle pieces together in his head, probably coming up with his own conclusions and thinking about how to go about things. You couldn’t blame him, you knew the full story and you were still absolutely clueless how to move forward. All you knew was that you had to tell someone, you would be found out sooner or later, and you would rather do it now, on your own terms, with your best friend rather than any other way.
A smooth, bony hand came to rest on top of yours. And then, Sans’ voice: “can i take a look at your soul?”
“It… I’m warning you, it looks like shit right now.”
“don’t care what it looks like.”
“Don’t be too mad,” you told him again. “You can be mad, just not too mad, please.”
“i promise.” The weight of his words hit you like a freight train. “can i?”
You were shaking. “Go for it.”
Though your eyes were still closed, you could sense when his other hand moved close to your chest, and you could feel the tugging sensation that came from someone other than yourself summoning your soul. You heard a sharp intake of breath, and a quiet “holy shit” that you figured you weren’t meant to notice.
“I’m sorry--” You didn’t even think to say the words aloud, but they slipped from your lips without permission, and that was all it took to open the floodgates. “I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t be mad I just-- I don’t even know why I did it at first but then I couldn’t stop, it numbs my emotions, and I’ve just been so stressed out about all this monarch stuff and I need it, I’m sorry Sans I’m really sorry, I know it’s fucked up and I’m fucked up but I just--”
You were pulled into an embrace before you knew what was happening. Your emotions were overwhelming and you felt the urge to cut them all back again, followed by sickness at the thought because what the hell, that was what caused this mess in the first place, why couldn’t you just learn from your mistakes instead of being such a damn idiot? It was only hesitantly that you wrapped your arms around Sans in turn, but as soon as you returned his hug your fingers dug into the fabric of his jacket like a lifeline, and you buried your face into the fur lining of the hood, trying to focus just on the softness instead of everything you hated about yourself and all the situations you were afraid of, failing as a monarch and disappointing everyone you loved. As you finally let your tears flow freely-- and god, Sans must be so annoyed by you right now. The guy offers you a hug, and you repay him by drenching his jacket. Fucking incredible-- you continue to mutter apologies, and though the word sorry has been said by you so many times now that it’s all but lost its meaning and sincerity, you still can’t rid yourself of this unbearable feeling of your sins crawling around in your soul.
You have no idea how long it takes before your grip on Sans slackens and you pull away, eyes red and puffy and nose leaking so much you might have to call a plumber. He looks just about as terrible as you do, his grin appearing just about ready to shatter at any second. You never really thought that a skeleton could cry, but the streaks on his face were impossible to ignore.
He rested a hand on your shoulder, and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to shrink under his touch or turn your head away from his gaze. “listen, pal, i’m not gonna lie to ya. your soul is… well, it’s in pretty bad shape. we’ve gotta tell your folks about it, they might have an idea of how to fix it. if not--”
“No--” You cut him off, voice trembling. “Y-you can’t tell Toriel and Asgore, please, they’ll be so angry with me--”
“if it’s not fixed, your soul might just keep deteriorating until there’s nothing left.” Sans finished, not allowing you to go any further into your rambling.
The thought chilled you to the bone. The fear of telling your family paled in comparison to the possibility of… whatever would happen when “nothing left” was achieved. Death? Soullessness?
But that didn’t mean you were any less terrified of it.
“Can… can you do it? Tell them, I mean.” The words sounded stupid to you as they left your mouth, but you couldn’t go back on them now. “They’re both at Toriel’s hose. I just…” You tried to figure out how to say what you wanted to. Sans, like always, waited patiently. “I’m exhausted, emotionally, I think. I can’t tell them right now, it was bad enough telling you…”
It didn’t occur to you just how much you were asking of Sans until you watched the lights in his eyes dim and his eyebrows scrunch up as if he was conflicted about the matter. Of course he wouldn't want to tell them, he’s probably more exhausted than I am. God, how selfish can I get? It’s all my fault anyways, I need to own up to it like an adult. Stupid, selfish--
“hey,” Sans’ voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a tug on your wrist from him brought you to the realization that you had been digging your nails into your arms. It took another, firmer tug for you to reluctantly relax your grip, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your skin but no signs of blood. Half of you was disappointed by the fact, while the other half wanted to apologize again for Sans having to put up with your shit. You hated the feeling of your mind arguing against itself. “i'll tell ‘em what i saw, alright? but you’ve gotta deal with whatever comes afterwards.”
“No.” You shook your head. It felt like you were manipulating him into it now, and that was the last thing you wanted to do. “Sorry for asking, I-- I can do it by myself, you don't need to come.”
Sans stood up, offered his hand. “it’s no big deal, don't worry about it. i'll be with you as long as you need, pal.”
You tried to speak, but words wouldn't come. Instead, you nodded gratefully.
The short walk to your home felt like you were stepping up to the gallows. You scuffed your feet along the sidewalk, kept your gaze on the ground in front of you, your entire body tense. Sans, sensing your distress, took your hand, which you were overwhelmingly grateful for but despite that, it did little to quell the discomfort in your gut.
He paused with his hand on the front door handle, and gave your hand a squeeze. “i won’t leave you alone until you’re ready for it. everything’s going tibia-lright.”
The corners of your mouth twitched upwards into a smile, and he took that as the signal to open the door and walk inside.
Sans acted casual as ever as he greeted your family. You tried to not chew your lip anxiously while there was excited babbling about the news between the other adults, and even Frisk jumped in with a comment now and then, which still melted your heart despite the fact that you’d known this kid for years now, you’d think their cuteness factor would have toned down a bit when puberty hit but no, they were still precious as ever, albeit sassier with the high schooler thing still boosting their ego to levels only freshmen and seniors could possess. Before the conversation could really get rolling enough that the breaks would be difficult to put on, the skeleton asked if he could speak to your parents “about some kind of important stuff, in private, hey why don’t you and frisk play some mario kart while the adults are talking?”. You would have been offended by the comment, if you hadn’t seen the humorous (pun unintended) wink he gave you. It was only later on that you realized he’d been deliberately trying to nudge your thoughts towards other things that didn’t involve the conversation that was about to take place. And you had to admit, it was pretty damn clever, because there is hardly anything more distracting in the world than engaging in a competition to kick your little sibling’s butt in a few rounds of Mario Kart Wii. Without it, you had a feeling you would have slipped away on your own to leave some slashes on your thighs, because sure you were stupid but you weren’t quite stupid enough to inflict any more damage on your soul when you knew Asgore and Toriel would most likely demand to see it for themselves soon enough, and so you would’ve had to settle for the next best thing.
“My child?”
Even though your head automatically snapped towards the sound of your mother’s voice, your thoughts absolutely froze up at the sight of Toriel, Asgore, and Sans crowded around the doorway to your room. Your scrambled thoughts couldn’t quite put a name to the expressions on their faces, but specifics didn’t matter when you could at the very least tell that it was nothing good. You hugged your knees to your chest worriedly.
Toriel strode across the room and took a seat next to you on your bed, while Asgore followed a bit more cautiously, choosing to kneel on the floor rather than to test fate (and the strength of your bed frame). On the other side of you, Frisk shifted, and out of the corner of your eye you caught their look of concern.
You were surrounded on all sides by your family-- who all loved you and were concerned for you and just wanted you to be happy-- so why was it that you wanted to disappear then and there?
Toriel took your hands into her paws, and they were warm and comforting and everything you didn’t deserve. “Why did you not come to us about this sooner?” You were caught-- no, trapped-- in her gaze, you couldn’t look away and suddenly you noticed the tears welling up in her eyes and guilt gnawed at you, angry and relentless, for making Toriel cry.
It felt like you’d forgotten the entirety of the English language in that moment. It took you a few tries to gather enough courage to just open your mouth, and all you got out of it was a quietly-spoken, “I… I-I…” You were absolutely tongue-tied. Panicked, you looked to Sans for help.
Almost immediately, your knight in ketchup-stained armor spoke up, “i don’t think they’re up for much more talkin’ right now. we did enough of that over at my place.” At his words, you felt the weight that had been pressing down on your chest since… god knows how long, lift slightly. “for now, i think we should ease up on the whole ‘future monarch’ business until they’re feeling better.”
Full family group hugs were a rarity with the strained relationship between Toriel and Asgore, but despite this you were enveloped in two large goat hugs at once, with Frisk squeezing themselves into the pile so they could hug you theirself. You let yourself cry, surrounded by the ones who loved you.
“I… we had no idea that the pre-coronation was causing you so much distress.” Asgore’s voice sounded strained and brittle, as if it would crack and shatter at any moment.
In a tone full of compassion and understanding, Toriel spoke, “We are all here for you, child. If you are ever feeling overwhelmed, please do not hesitate to come to myself or Asgore.”
Between both of your parents wrapping their arms around you and Frisk taking up any extra space in between, there was no practical way for Sans to join in. Still, your head was poking out from between Toriel and Asgore, and that was enough for him to move closer and press his forehead against yours. “you’re gonna be okay. you’ll get through this.” Not once had you ever thought that, ever since this entire ordeal had started, and to have the words said aloud made them seem real and tangible, as if you could’ve grabbed them out of the air and held them in your hands. Instead, your broken and crumbling soul latched onto them with a desperation that was almost physically painful. “somebody out there cares about you. a lot of us somebodies do.”
Frisk-- bless their heart, this kid didn’t even have the full story but they were still being as supportive as everyone else, squeezed you a bit tighter, and strengthened Sans’ point with a muffled “Love you, sib.”
In that moment, a wave of relief washed over you. You let yourself believe that your best friend was right. The future could be brighter than the dull, emotionless prison you’d stuck yourself in, maybe not right away but eventually. You had to hold onto that hope, for yourself, for your friends and family, and for monsterkind.
Everything would be okay.
You would be okay.