When Frisk stood to busy herself with tidying up, Sans almost relaxed. Almost. Their brief silence was tense, and thick enough he could slice through it with a knife(he shuddered at that thought), but it didn't last.
He could tell Frisk was stalling, could hear her going through her nervous antics, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. His soul was quivering in his chest in response to her being on edge. And before she even opened her mouth, he knew what she was going to say. And he desperately tried to gather his thoughts before she did. Attempted to make some lame joke so the elephant in the room could just continue being ignored. Just like they'd silently agreed. Just like they'd been doing these past twenty years.
But she beat him to the punch.
His bony hands clenched tightly around his mug, as if it would make the situation disappear. But it didn't. Frisk continued speaking, unable to finish her thoughts with words. And the entire time, his fake smile stayed plastered on his skull, twitching a bit at the corner, but unaltered otherwise.
He stayed silent, even after she finished speaking, his shoulders giving barely noticeable quivers of their own as he gathered his thoughts. But what could he say? He'd tried so hard to avoid this topic. And promise? What did she need him to promise? They were fine. They were F I N E.
"Heh, nah, I think I'm good, kiddo. We're all good, no need for promises 'r anything sentimental like that. Just.. forget about earlier, yeah? It was just a bad dream. Nothin' to get all serious about," he babbled, standing from his chair and ambling over to the couch. God he wished he had the energy to shortcut right now. But he didn't, and now he was stuck here.
A distraction, that's what he needed. Grabbing the remote, he flipped on the tv and zipped through the channels.
He was running away in his own house.
But he didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to create that rift between him and Frisk again. Not after everything finally seemed to be ok, or at least bearable. And he could live with that. Could keep going with the thought that it would all be ok like this.
Still tense with visible shudders coursing through him every once in a while, Sans tried to convince himself more than her,"Everything is fine. We..... We're fine. There's nothing to talk about."
He could tell Frisk was stalling, could hear her going through her nervous antics, and it made him deeply uncomfortable. His soul was quivering in his chest in response to her being on edge. And before she even opened her mouth, he knew what she was going to say. And he desperately tried to gather his thoughts before she did. Attempted to make some lame joke so the elephant in the room could just continue being ignored. Just like they'd silently agreed. Just like they'd been doing these past twenty years.
But she beat him to the punch.
His bony hands clenched tightly around his mug, as if it would make the situation disappear. But it didn't. Frisk continued speaking, unable to finish her thoughts with words. And the entire time, his fake smile stayed plastered on his skull, twitching a bit at the corner, but unaltered otherwise.
He stayed silent, even after she finished speaking, his shoulders giving barely noticeable quivers of their own as he gathered his thoughts. But what could he say? He'd tried so hard to avoid this topic. And promise? What did she need him to promise? They were fine. They were F I N E.
"Heh, nah, I think I'm good, kiddo. We're all good, no need for promises 'r anything sentimental like that. Just.. forget about earlier, yeah? It was just a bad dream. Nothin' to get all serious about," he babbled, standing from his chair and ambling over to the couch. God he wished he had the energy to shortcut right now. But he didn't, and now he was stuck here.
A distraction, that's what he needed. Grabbing the remote, he flipped on the tv and zipped through the channels.
He was running away in his own house.
But he didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to create that rift between him and Frisk again. Not after everything finally seemed to be ok, or at least bearable. And he could live with that. Could keep going with the thought that it would all be ok like this.
Still tense with visible shudders coursing through him every once in a while, Sans tried to convince himself more than her,"Everything is fine. We..... We're fine. There's nothing to talk about."