Final chapter -

-Grief never ends. It just changes. Grief is not a sign of weakness or a lack of faith...-

It's Frisk who tells him, 3 days after Papyrus died.

Sans hasn't left his room the entire time, hasn't opened the curtains or turned on the lights or even got out of bed to stretch his legs. He has just been lying there feeling miserable.

And if it were up to him, that's all he would be doing until eventually falling down.

But then Frisk comes by and tells him.

"Papyrus knew."

He cries and yells and it is like a torrent, a flood. 3 days of being eerily calm and empty now accumulating in a storm of rage directed at the wrong person.

Because the person who it should be directed at isn't here. He's dead.

He grabs the tray of food Toriel brought him, hoping in vain that he would at least feed himself, and throws it against the wall above Frisk's head, relishing in the sound of glass shattering. It's a fucking mess and he can't help but have that thought cross his mind -Papyrus hates it when I make a mess- but then he remembers Papyrus isn't here, he's dead and gone forever and there's nothing he can do about it.

Frisk closes the door behind them softly, Sans is still in bed.

His plans for the future haven't changed with this revelation. They have only reinforced themselves.

A week after the night his brother left, a sound wakes him. Sans rolls around and pulls a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the incessant beeping.

He wants to be able to just die in peace, thank you very much.

But the noise won't let up and lying in a stupor of depression isn't all that fun if you can't do so in complete silence, so eventually he has little choice but to throw of the blankets and look for his phone.

He finds it in the back of his closet, God only knows how it got there, and he fumbles with the keys to turn off the alarm, barely realizing he never in his life set one.

He stares at it, wondering who would rig his phone like that, when his eyes catch the message. 1 missed call.

Sans wouldn't think twice about it, if it weren't for the name of the caller.

His hands shake as he pushes the buttons, hearing his brother's voice feels like it breaks his soul into a thousand pieces.

Never has anything been more painful.

"Sans. I'm sorry." And of course he would open with that, of course he fucking would.

This echo of Papyrus goes on to explain why, ample words that just fall on deaf men's ears. All Sans can hear is how much he failed as a brother.

"I don't want this to defeat you, Sans. I don't want you to lay in bed and let the rest of life pass you by. It's been a week, so you've sulked enough." That voice says, a familiar tone of patience. "You need to start living again now. For me, for the life I didn't have. I need you to do this for me, ok? Oh, and by the way, the alarm will go off every single day at 7 AM sharp, just to be sure you don't sleep your life away either."

He can't help and laugh at that, just a little bit. Papyrus sighs at the other end of the line, there's a pain in his voice that makes Sans ache to hold him. "And don't forget to feed the pet rock. I love you, Sans. Goodbye."

Sans exhales shakily and saves the message. He listens to it twelve more times before falling back asleep to the soothing sound his brother talking.

There is only spaghetti in the fridge, notes taped to them carefully by Papyrus, telling him when they expire. Sans doesn't read them, just dumps it all in the trash.

He doesn't think he'll be able to eat another bite of pasta, good or bad, in his life.

The grocery list is in his brother's handwriting too, and he folds it up and stuffs it down his pocket. Another little piece of him to hold onto.

Like every day, Toriel comes by, and she's pleasantly surprised to see him up.

"Yeah, Papyrus can be pretty convincing when he wants to." Sans mumbles, ignoring the look that earns him.

He opens a cupboard and takes out the half-empty box of oatmeal.

It takes two more weeks for him to actually leave the house. Alphys has been keeping up with the bills, has been making sure Sans has electricity and warm water and no angry men demanding he pay his due on the doorsteps.

Some distant voice in his head reminds him to thank her for this, and it sounds exactly like Papyrus too.

He stares at the mailbox that still has his brother's name on it, opening it without thinking. There's a letter inside.

"To Sans." it says, and he nearly breaks out in hysteric laughter.

Inside are two lines of plain text in a distinctive font. "Today, go eat ice cream. Greetings, Papyrus."

Sans does, never able to refuse his brother anything, sitting on that exact same bench they had once as he eats it. Thinking back to that day, he remembers to zip up his hoodie as he's leaving.

"Today, buy something you don't need. Greetings, Papyrus."

It's hard, walking down the same roads they used to walk down together, but now alone. Most people don't spare him a second glance, the presence of monsters in their midst now as normal to them as a rainy day.

But just a few people do give him a curious glance, and Sans has to stop himself from making a joke to the empty space next to him.

He buys a miniature car with black and red stripes, because he knows Papyrus would have loved it, and then purposely forgets it on the bus ride home.

He hopes that whomever finds it makes good use of it.

On what should have been his brother's birthday, he stays in. He locks the door and doesn't open it even when the others come knocking.

Undyne, never one to take no for an answer, breaks it down instead.

They sit around the table and drink tea that tastes like crap and let the pie Toriel made grow cold without touching it.

"We miss him too, you know?" Undyne says and Sans pretends like he cares.

"Today, go see that rocket. Greetings, Papyrus."

He thinks about inviting somebody, going with Frisk or Alphys maybe, but in the end he goes alone.

Going with anyone else would only serve to taint the memories he cherishes most right now. All the things they did, that Sans can now look back on as if they were happy times.

As if they weren't lying to each other. As if it wasn't all they ever did.

He goes alone, closes his eyes from time to time and pretends Papyrus is there with him.

The rocket is probably the best thing he has ever laid eyes on.

He knows it will be the final letter as soon as he reads it. He doesn't know if he's ready, but then again, maybe Papyrus knows him better than he knows himself.

He listens to the message one last time before deleting it. Listens very closely to Papyrus telling him he loves him.

Then he collects all the notes and burns them, keeping only the last one. He lays it under his pillow, to serve as a reminder from time to time.

"Today, let me go. Greetings, Papyrus."

- ...Instead, Grief is the price of love. -