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It was quiet, which didn’t help with Sans’ thoughts at all.
Before all this he would’ve been napping at his sentry post, or stopping by Grillby’s again.
Before all this he would’ve been listening to Papyrus talk about capturing a human.
He frowned at the thought.
He was sitting at an empty Grillby’s, seeing all the monster dust around him. How many days had it been? How many hours have passed by while he was stuck reminiscing over something that will never come back?
Sans started subconsciously scratching at his arms, a habit he formed without realizing. His arms were probably full of marks and chips that he really could not force himself to care about.
It’s been a while since he heard anything from Papyrus. As much as Sans couldn’t stand the cruel remarks from him, he knew they were all true. He was a disgusting murderer, just like the human. Just the mere thought of the human upset him.
Sans had technically succeeded in his goal of stopping the human, but at what cost? They didn’t reset after dying, they just left everything as is. He was alone in an empty underground that HE was responsible for.
He wanted out, he NEEDED to leave. But he was stuck here, in his own endless cycle of torment. Wake up, walk around, hate himself, sit down somewhere for a while, hate himself some more, walk around again, and get maybe 5 minutes of sleep a week. Alongside that, he also never knew when Papyrus would show up to torture him again, which only worsened his suffering.
As if it was the punchline to some grand cosmic joke, Sans heard the familiar telltale sign of the ghostly Papyrus popping up behind him to glare at and berate him once more, something that just became part of his regular schedule. "Sup Paps." He said, with a twinge of boredom to his tone. Sans knew that he had forfeit the right to call Papyrus his brother long ago when he chose to slaughter him, Papyrus had even said it himself on multiple occasions.
“LOOK AT YOU. TRULY A PATHETIC SIGHT,” the apparition of Papyrus taunted, seemingly enjoying the way Sans shrunk into his hood, “ALL YOU DO IS RUN AWAY AND HIDE FROM THE TRUTH."
Sans frowned and pulled Papyrus’- no, his scarf, further up his face. He felt comfort in keeping his face obscured, he hid his sins along with it. He didn't live in peace, blissfully unaware of his actions. No, he constantly felt his sins crawling down his back, plaguing his mind and disgustingly infecting his every thought. Ignorance was a luxury that he could never have, it constantly taunted him, a cruel reminder that he'll never be able to go back to the happiness he stripped himself from.
Usually Sans would ignore Papyrus’ ramblings to the best of his ability until Papyrus gave up and went away. He tried to not focus on what he said too much but then without warning Papyrus muttered, “YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN CALL YOURSELF SANS ANYMORE. YOU DON'T DESERVE THAT TITLE. YOU'RE JUST A MONSTER.”
Those words hit him like a truck.
Papyrus hadn't been wrong in saying that. He very obviously was not the same Sans he used to be. Sans would never so selfishly kill everybody, including his brother. Sans wouldn't have done what he has done.
He looked at the monster dust scattered all over the place, a reminder of his actions. He thought about it, Dust. A cruel way of remembering all he's done. It seemed fitting considering the monster dust that had stained everything. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get rid of the dust that seemed to linger on his clothes, his hands, and on his conscious.
Sans- no, Dust, stood up from his seat and made his way out of Grillby’s.