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happy birthday, love.

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You couldn’t move.


Your back was against the wall, hands shaking, fingertips numb, as if what you’d just accidentally picked up had physically burnt through the pads of your hands. A deep, horrified pit had formed in your stomach, a lump in your throat, cold sweat on your neck and spine- w-were you going to scream? Were you going to be sick? Faint? Every part of you was rooted to the spot, as if encased in stone. The corners of your vision began to blur a little as you swallowed; no, no, you couldn’t faint.


You’d just... you’d just come to Sans’ house to get your mind off of everything that’d happened today. A... less than stellar birthday morning spent with your parents that you knew he’d be able to make better with his ridiculous jokes and genuine care for how you felt (unlike some people). He hadn’t been home, and there’d been a strange, fishy, rotten smell coming from his usually-locked basement. You’d decided to head down and see if he had an electrical leak or something, or if some food was going off.




God, if only.


... The item in question was lying discarded on the floor, where you’d flung it out of your hands in a complete state of panic after you’d realised just what it was. 




After realising who it was.


Those oh-so-familiar eyes stared back at you, glassy, lifeless. A little part of you didn’t want to believe he was truly dead. After all- how could he be? You’d spoken to your boyfriend yesterday.


... Maybe this was some horrible prank? You forced in a tiny breath, trying to control your own panic. One of those pranks on TV where they make the really REALLY detailed dummies to make people think they’d found a severed hand or something, right?


Or, in your case... a severed head. A slightly rotted, not-long-separated-from-the-body head. God, he must’ve been here... a day? Did he die right after you spoke to him?


Did Sans do this!?


You staggered, breathing faltering as panic closed in. Your goofy, idiot friend? The moron who makes fart jokes to cheer you up after your boyfriend had been ruining your mood? The giddy dumbass who always seemed so happy to see you and so eager to chat?


... You started to physically back up, eyes not leaving the soulless ones that stared through you in a frozen expression of terror. Y-you had to get out of here. You had to get back home and call the police. You... you had to-




Your back hit something solid that was not the wall. 


Your breath caught in your throat as pure FREEZE instinct took over your entire body in a wash of numb.


“... what a shame.” Sans cooed.


... It's him.


Your heart stopped.


... He sounded so calm, so eerily happy, so serene, so wrong considering the circumstances of what was lying on the floor in front of you. You wanted to spin around and hit him, you wanted to scream, how could he do this, you wanted to punch him and run as fast as you can, you wanted to... you...


... Why couldn’t you move?


“i was hoping to get rid of it before you arrived.” His hands closed around your shoulders from behind. So soft... so gently. “it’s definitely not something you should ever have to see.”


You opened your mouth, trying to get anything out. ‘Let go of me’, ‘you’re a murderer’, ‘get your hands off me’, ‘let me go’ all came to mind ... But you couldn’t get anything more than a panicked squeak out. You screwed your eyes shut, trying so hard to convince yourself that this was some terrible dream or petrifying nightmare. 


But, God, you couldn’t. It was too real. Too horrifyingly real.  The smells, the sounds, the touches... too real.


“i don’t know what he was expecting.” Sans drawled, gently stroking your arm. You could hear the cold fury in his voice as he talked about your boyfriend- like standing on the edge of a pit of bottomless hate and only just peering over the side to see into the unending darkness. It was just a taste of what Sans really felt. “hurtin’ you like that before your special day. hittin' you. who does he think he is?" 


When he asked a question, as if really expecting a response from you... it was like a spell being broken. A pane of glass encasing your body shattering instantly. Feeling rushed back into your limbs; you whipped around, ready to run, ready to shove past him and-


- the gravity zeroed in on you. You cried out as you felt his magic encase your Soul in an instant; forcing it’s way into your chest and crushing your feet to the floor. All you could do was sob weakly as a finger gently tucked under your chin and tilted your face up to look at him.


His grin was eerily wide, stretching across his skull from cheekbone to cheekbone. His face was dark, silhouetted by the slightly open door behind him that provided the only illumination to the dank basement, but his eyesockets were lit up with a pale, ghostlike glow from the tiny eyelights that bored into your Soul with a nightmarish intensity you’d never seen on him before.


This wasn’t your best friend. This wasn’t the goofy silly idiot you knew and loved. This was someone... something else.


“you’re not going anywhere, baby.” He purred. “you’re not going anywhere.”


You could do nothing but sob. He leant close, breath washing over your shoulder and ear, other hand closing around your upper arms, as if you had any chance of pushing him away anyway.


“i’ll always be here.” He was just inches from your face. “unlike them... unlike the people who hurt you. so long as you’re here, i’ll be here.”


His voice was disturbingly soft. The smell of the dead body was still hanging in the air like a black cloud, heavy on your senses, heavy on your mind. His eyelights softened a fraction as he observed your absolute terror- but he didn’t let go you.


“... happy birthday, sweetheart.”