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It was just another day.
The snow fell just like every other day. The townsfolk spoke of the same old things. Puzzles were being recalibrated once again.
It was just an ordinary day.
But as Sans looked closer, at the snow and at the ground below him, he seemed to finally notice just how beautiful it was. It had been surprisingly long since he'd last looked at it so carefully. In fact, it was the first time in ages he even bothered to give it anything more than a quick glance. It kind of surprised him to realize just how little he paid it any mind. But, then again, maybe it shouldn't have been all that surprising. After a while, even the prettiest of snowfalls can lose their spark when you spend most of your life in this cold of a climate.
This snowfall was just like any other- it was slow, seemingly coming from nowhere. It truly was a wonder how snow managed to appear in the underground. If Sans wanted to, he could try and come up with an idea as to how that could happen- but idly staring at the snow felt like something that needed much less effort on his part.
Every time the snow hit the ground, though hard to notice, Sans could see how it stacked up- bit by bit, speck by speck. He really had to squint his eyes to see that, though. The snow in Snowdin rarely began to overflow the town, often just being used to cool the core. Although, whenever it did, it left for a pretty sweet day off from work. But Papyrus was expectedly annoyed by that, so Sans always tried to find something for him and his brother to do. Either that or they would ocassionally venture into the ever-so engulfing snow to reach the Inn and chit-chat with the bunny sisters. Well, the "ever-so engulfing" part only ever applied to the shorter skeleton, while Papyrus often managed to tredge onwards, no matter how cold he got. Cool, right?
Sans was taken out of his fond memories to hear other residents of Snowdin talking to each other about their daily life. It was something simple and Sans barely managed to focus on some of the words they said, but it caught his attention for a different reason. While he couldn't focus on a single thing they were saying, he simply looked at their body movements. They felt fluid, the monsters sometimes moving their arms up and down to exagerate whatever they were saying, while their expressions changed, even if just by a slight squint of the eyes. It truly was a wonder how much living beings could potray through their movements and expressions alone.
But, even more-so, Sans focused on their fur. In places, it was littered with small specks of white, not enough for the person themself to notice it immediately, but just enough to be upset when someone points it out. It was a real hassle to get out, anyway. Especially for the fluffier monsters. You'd never believe just how hard it is to get all of the snow out- not accounting for monsters that have white fur. But still, some of the residents would simply give up on brushing it off once they got inside, They would get tattered with it again once they went outside, so why bother?
Despite that, Sans found it interesting for once. If he used his imagination enough, he could sometimes see an image being created by the falling snow on the monster's fur. It was like watching something being painted- slowly, but surely. It felt strangely "real". Maybe if he waited long enough, the monster would notice it and do something about it, not like it wouldn't stubbornly come back the next day.
…But he probably shouldn't be staring at people like that. 't'd be pretty weird.
So, Sans decided to move along.
After an unnecessarily long walk- due to his sluggishness- he reached Grillby's. And, for a moment, he thought about going inside, just like any other day. Crack some jokes, drink some ketchup, tease Grillby about his neverending tab, which was probably even longer than the bar's menu at this point…
…But he didn't.
I mean, if he walked in every day, at the same hour, then it'd get pretty boring. He wouldn't be a good comedian if he left his audience able to predict him, now would he? Predictability is never punny.
Well, the folk at Grillby's were nice and all, yeah, but he just didn't feel like going today. He never exchanged lots of small talk with them, aside from some bad puns and even more good laughs. It felt like it always led back to those two things.
They were good people, but Sans wasn't the type to say no to a full day of doing nothing if he was given the chance, even if it meant skipping out on some awesome jokes and grub. Not like he ever ate that much when he went to Grillby's, anyway. He was a skeleton, after all- hunger wasn't the biggest of his problems. He mostly stayed there to slack off of work and have fun.
It made Sans wonder, though… Could things ever change between him and the monsters at Grillby's? Could he become better friends with them? Maybe if he actually talked about his day- what bothered him, what he enjoyed… Maybe this time he wouldn't even make any jokes.
But that just didn't seem like his style, y'know?
So, once again, he decided to keep walking. This time, far more mindlessly, looking only at the snow beneath his feet as he let them take him wherever they wanted. Before he knew it, he almost bumped his head into a huge door resting at the edge of Snowdin.
It was a place Sans had grown accustomed to. Every day, he would come here, either on a free day or by slacking off his job, and knock on the door. The knock would always be followed by the soft voice of a strange woman on the other side of the door, asking "Who's there?".
And that's how all of their encounters would kick off. An undoubtedly overused, yet iconic joke, followed by even more bad puns that seemed to go on for just too little time. Sure, Sans always spent at least half an hour talking to the old lady, but he always desired for those encounters to be longer, for one reason or another.
He supposed some good laughs and bad jokes were things always welcomed by him, despite any situation he could be in. It was nice to have moments like that from time to time. It felt as though life would just… take a break. And that, despite everything, things could be normal.
Not only that, but Sans also knew that his company was appreciated as well. The lady always seemed happy to see him- well, as much as he could tell from her voice alone. Sometimes, when she would arrive at the door, there would be a hint of sadness in the way she spoke. A sense of longing, or perhaps even guilt? But despite the way her voice shook oh-so slightly, she always tried to make room for the amusement their jokes brought.
Often times, Sans would find himself commenting on her sadness. She would always laugh in a strangely defeated manner before going on to point out his good observation skills- though, Sans felt like she was giving him too much credit. There were lots of people who were more emotionally intelligent than him, especially those with degrees and scholarships. He was just a regular ol' skeleton who just happened to have a knack for it.
He'd bring her behaviour up off-handedly, trying to help the monster open up about "what's been eating her", while also making sure to not make the atmosphere too tense. Sometimes he would fail, other times he would succeed. Sometimes the lady would talk, other times she wouldn't.
Sometimes the focus was brought onto him instead.
Whether that were a way for her to ignore his concerns or was simply out of genuine care, Sans could never be sure. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. Although, the monster had an undoubtable deep care for those she was close with, one that could only be akin to that of a mother. It was a comforting feeling.
Sometimes Sans would brush off her concerns. Other times he wouldn't.
But he could never bring himself to truly be honest with her.
Even if he tried his hardest to be truthful to her, in the end, it was easier to just change the topic back to her. Taking a hold of the directions his conversations were going was something that slowly became second nature to Sans. It was nothing to be proud of, but it was an achievement nonetheless- not like anyone would know to praise him for that, though.
When he did talk to her, he would be vague. He would ask if she ever felt like time moved too fast, yet also too slow. He would ask if she ever felt a little bit more "floaty" than usual. He would ask what she would do if this was the last day of her life. That last one was, admittedly, pretty morbid. It was something that just rolled off Sans' non-existent tongue while he was contemplating being more honest with her than usual. Though, he realized the old lady had been startled, so he mentally punched himself for that.
And yet, no matter how strange or vague his questions were, they were always met with an answer filled with a just as strange warmth. A shared feeling or a comforting tone- whatever it was, it made Sans feel something.
He couldn't quite pinpoint what it meant, no matter how hard he tried, but he supposed he never was good with his own feelings. Either way, he presumed it was something good. A kind of warmth he'd never really felt before and that he couldn't be sure on whether it was caused by the lady's natural "motherful" demeanor or something more special. It almost made Sans feel as though, maybe, one day, he could tell her.
But that wasn't an option he was willing to consider.
He already knew the poor monster was carrying a heavy weight on her back, who was he to double it?
But it was a nice thought.
Sometimes, Sans would let himself entertain that idea. His own fears and guilt, all out in the open to see for whoever might be curious enough. That idea was liberating. After all, keeping a secret only you know locked away for so long can really tire you to the bone, heh. But then, he'd think about what would happen after- after he allowed himself to tell the truth.
He could never admit it, but the thought terrified him.
So, that was all he ever did. Entertain it. And he always changed the subject right back to the bad jokes the two always made. Even though the lady went along with it, he knew she was still concerned and that, if the day ever even came, she would try to confront him about it. But he decided it was too exhausting to plan out what to say already.
Every day, when the time came for Sans to go back to his post, he'd throw one final pun in before leaving, along with a "see ya tomorrow". Sans was always the one to leave which made him realize that the lady really was as lonely as she seemed.
So why not pay her a visit? He was already right at the Ruins door and it wasn't like he actually planned to go anywhere, at least not back to his sentry station. For all he knew, the monster might already be waiting for him- he wasn't really sure if it was already time for their usual meet-up. So maybe he could talk to her.
And yet, Sans couldn't get himself to knock.
He'd walked all the way here, so he was pretty sure all his bones were working just fine. A knock shouldn't have been anything too hard.
But he couldn't even lift his own hand.
He knew he probably should've at least tried to tell a joke or check if she was actually there or tell her he'd be here later… But he didn't. The only way he could describe what he felt was that it was just… "a drag". Well, maybe not that harsh of a word, but it was true- it felt pointless. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too tired to.
Not physically tired- if he truly were that kind of tired then Sans would've probably just lied down in the snow and waited for his brother to pick him up. He felt as though even the thought of talking was… too much. Was talking really going to do him any good, anyway? It was probably pointless to try in the grand scheme of things.
Thinking was starting to become too much as well. Maybe if he did actually sleep in the snow, he could get better? But he didn't feel tired enough to sleep. Him, not tired enough to sleep? What a weird day.
So, instead, he just stood there, looking at the grand door in front of him. He wasn't sure if he could really count it as "looking" though, since he wasn't even focused on the door itself. He was just staring off into space, at something that might even exist beyond the door, unsure if his eyelights were even present anymore.
He didn't feel like he was there- like he was real.
And maybe he wasn't. He couldn't be sure.
But even if he wasn't real, would that ever change anything?
Sans assumed the answer was "no".
He just stood there, no longer paying attention to the snow or how it touched his head, no longer hearing any of the passing conversations of any monsters nearby, no longer thinking about the ground beneath his feet. He wasn't quite sure what he was thinking about, it could've just been nothing. The cold air didn't even feel cold anymore.
He didn't know how long he'd been there, it could've been seconds or hours, but the first thing he knew was that his brother was calling for him.
It was his usual loud and annoyed tone that rang throughout half the forest, scaring off some monsters that didn't know any better. It was unfortunate how many times that happened. Maybe if they'd try and stay just a little bit longer, then they'd realize how cool and not-scary Papyrus actually was. Yeah. His brother was really cool.
He always was the cooler one. Always hopeful and determined- Sans didn't know anyone who was more hard-working than him. No matter what challenge he faced, he always got back up on his two feet to try again. It was truly admirable, especially in comparision to himself.
He couldn't exactly focus on what his brother was saying, but if Sans had to guess, he'd assume Papyrus had found out he was slacking off again. And he couldn't be more right. This was probably his best "slack" so far. You can't beat the concept of doing nothing, not even thinking.
As Sans began to faintly hear his brother's steps growing closer and closer, he gathered himself enough to lament upon something.
"Ignorance is bliss."
It was a pretty well-known quote, made by this human guy he couldn't really remember the name of. He'd first found out about it through a psychology book he'd found in the Librarby a long while back. It was something simple, yet it managed to stick with him even now.
It made him think of the dogs and their dream of running around and playing fetch in the sun, of the leader of the royal guard who promised to lead every last monster to the Surface, no matter what, of the old lady who sometimes spoke of a silly wish to become a teacher…
Of his brother who tried his best to make friends.
And he wondered…
Would they feel the same way as him if they knew…?
…But he supposed he didn't want an answer to that question. Sometimes one's curiosity should remain just that- a curiosity.
And now, Sans knew what he had to do. After all, he had people waiting for him. Whether for a good laugh or some heart-to-heart, Sans had to be there. Because if this were to be the last and longest day of his life, then he could at least make it be nice. And that started with seeing the smile he always thought of, maybe for the final time.
So, with his brother's shadow towering over Sans, he gave the cold snow one last look before turning to him, with the same grin he always had.
It was a very beautiful day.