Chapter Text
You've never been an overly lucky person. People often think you're silly when you tell them that you're cursed, but that's how you honestly feel. Perhaps you're overly superstitious, who knows? All you know is if someone can turn your luck around, you'd take them up on that offer, especially right now.
Today had been tougher than usual. You'd gone on four job interviews, and you know you've flubbed each one spectacularly. How? Why it's your special talent, that's how. Unfortunately, you have a horrible habit of blurting whatever pops into your head in tremendously untactful moments. It won you no favours, and each potential employer saw you out with a frown on their face. Great.
Not only that, but your landlord still hates you, and after your fourth interview, you'd gotten your jeans caught on a door and ripped them. These were your favourite pair, and while that was annoying all on its own when you'd gone home to your apartment to change before your fifth interview, you found your power was out. Obviously, you called your landlord, but did you mention that he hates you? He grumpily tells you that he can have someone come look at it on Monday. It's Friday. Perfect.
After all of this, you're astounded that you manage to make it to your final interview. Not that you're on time, perish the thought. Of course, you're a half hour late. An excellent first impression, especially if the guy will still want to interview you after being so late, but you try anyway.
You'd nearly run past the place, although you don't know how. There's a giant neon sign that has the name in big letters. Grillby's. It was a monster bar in town, and it was the first monster-run establishment to open after monsters emerged from Mt. Ebott five years ago. You'd seen online that he was looking for a full-time waitress and part-time bartender. Taking a chance, you'd applied and managed to snag an interview, and while it wasn't your first choice, a job is a job. Besides, waitressing is something you know you can do and not screw up.
Running inside the bar, out of breath, you take a look around at the plush booths with their rich purples and dark hardwood. There are some tables in the middle, each one with those same rich purple fabric chairs. The walls displayed tasteful art, and while you'd love to get a better look, you're already late, and you can see that violet fire elemental staring at you as he cleans a glass. Assuming this is Grillby, you hurry toward him, his expression never changing behind his glasses.
As you get closer, you can see that he's wearing a simple button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, tucked into jeans with a belt. Those glasses he had were rectangular and slightly tinted, dulling the way his eyes burned behind them. He's handsome. He's super handsome. Stars, you hope you don't just blurt that.
His eyes continue to follow you until you beach the bar, panting out your greeting.
"Hi, I'm Nia. I'm here for an interview."
Grillby eyes you a little longer; you can see how they flicker up and down, taking all of you in. You just let him, it's not as if you're this wildly pretty person, so if he wants to look, he can go ahead.
"You're late." He finally speaks, and you grimace, not at his voice, which is deep and gravelly, but at his words.
"I know, I'm sorry! I ripped my jeans and went to change, but my power is out, and so I called my landlord who-"
"Don't need your life story, girl; it wasn't a question that needed answering."
Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. The last thing you want to do is piss him off. Grillby just takes in your stiff posture and sighs loudly in an aggravated manner, but then holds out his hand as if he wants you to give him something. What does he want? Is this a test of some sort? Are you supposed to touch his hand and see how long you can handle his heat? Is this a monster thing? Oh stars, he's staring. Do something! Anything!
Raising your hand, you bring it back down to slap against his in an obvious low five. Instantly, you die inside and hate everything. Grillby looks so done with your social incompetence, and you can't blame him.
That low five was S-Tier cringe.
Once again, Grillby sighs and motions with his hand, "Your resume, you idiot."
Alright, you deserve that. Of course, that's what he wanted. Stars, you've already blown this interview. Less than five minutes might be a record for you, so you'll take that! Hurriedly, you pull your resume from the manila envelope and hand it to him. As he grabs the piece of paper from you, he's already skimming it, and you know what's coming before he even says it.
"Apollonia?"
"My Dad is... old-fashioned," You chuckle weakly. He hums and continues looking at your resume. Guess this interview is happening right here.
"You seem a bit overqualified for this position, girl." He mutters after a while. You also figured this was coming, too.
"I mean, it could be worse; I could be underqualified." You try pointing out. He just raises a brow at you.
"How can you be underqualified to be a waitress?"
He's got you there, but for once, you manage to think on your feet, "I could have zero waitressing and bartending experience, but I have both since I worked at a bar all through college."
Grillby appears to consider that before he speaks next, "True, but why work here instead of where you're qualified or better yet," He hands you your resume back and you take it glumly knowing already he isn't going to hire you, "Why not ask your Daddy for a job?"
Your eyes widen, "My... Dad?"
Grillby nods towards the paper in your hand, "I recognize that last name on your resume. It's extremely uncommon, so you gotta be related to the big man himself, am I right?"
Feeling your cheeks flush, you curse yourself for not using your mother's maiden name instead. It's not that you dislike your father, far from it, you loved him to bits. However, when people find out who your paternal unit is, they treat you differently or try to get something out of you, which never makes any sense to you. Your father is the wealthiest, most influential businessman in Ebott, not you. It’s not as if you have access to his bank account or anything, but you guess people just don’t think about things like that, or that you’re evidently dumb enough to ask your father for a shitload of money. Unfortunately for them, you’re not that type of person.
Evidently, Grillby must take your silence as your answer, and huffs.
"That's what I thought. Run along and ask your Daddy for a handout because you won't find any here."
The fire monster turns away from you, which you assume is you being dismissed. Great. Fifth interview down, and it's a bust, same as the others.
For some reason, though, as you turn and begin walking away yourself, you feel angry. Sure, you were late, and that low five will haunt you for eternity, plus you were overqualified, but he didn't turn you away for any of those reasons. He turned you away because of who your father is. You don't want to work for your dad or ask him for money, especially after what you did, even if your Dad didn't blame you for what happened. Besides, you paid your own way through college and got into that school all on your own. Your Daddy didn't help with any of that, and it pisses you off that this guy just assumes your Dad will do everything for you.
That anger in your gut burns and sizzles. It nags at you until you can't go any further. You've made it about halfway to the door, but you're not done with this guy. Whirling on your heel, you storm back to the bar and slam your resume upon the polished wooden top, gaining his attention. Grillby turns around, but you don't let him speak.
"Yes, my Dad is who you say he is, but he doesn't pay my bills. He didn't pay for my college or even help me get into that school. Yes, I'm overqualified, but if you haven't noticed, I'm kind of awkward. I blurt things out without thinking and evidently do things without thinking sometimes, but I'm still smart." You're a bit surprised he hasn't cut you off, but keep going. "I'm tough, resilient, and I know I'm a good waitress. I know I can do this job better than anyone else who applied. So, if you wanna not hire me because of who my Dad is, fine, but if that's the reason why," You stare him right in the eyes, "then you're an idiot."
Grillby still says nothing as you catch your breath from your tirade. Taking your hand off your resume, you leave it behind as you nod to him once more.
"Thanks for your time."
Not wanting to waste any more of your day on this pointless endeavour, you turn on your heel and begin to march toward the door. He has no intention of hiring you; he probably never did. The second he saw your last name, it was all over. Of all the reasons not to hire you, that one pisses you off. What a presumptuous asshole. Whatever, why would you even want to work for someone who just assumes the world has been handed to you on a silver platter? You're better off finding somewhere else, even if you're desperate and this was sort of your last option.
You make it about halfway to the door again when Grillboy's voice rings out through his currently empty establishment.
"Be here at 11 a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."
Whirling around, astonished, you find Grillby still standing behind the bar, your resume once again in his hand. It takes you a moment to register that he's just hired you. The very second they do, you're breaking into a huge grin. Maybe you judged Grillby a little too harshly! Sure, he's an asshole, but he's now an asshole giving you a job, so he's great!
"Really?"
Grillby just nods, "Why not?" Well, that just makes it seem like he decided on a whim, "Don't be late," He growls.
"I won't." You assure him, "Thank you!"
Grillby nods again before waving you off. You can't believe he just hired you. This is amazing! Every part of you fills with excitement despite your earlier disappointment. However, not wanting to upset Grillby and potentially have him take his impromptu hiring since it's not like you can yell no take backs at him, you swiftly turn to leave the bar. Hurrying, you exit the establishment and step out into the crisp fall evening. All you want to do is celebrate, but you manage to wait until you're a couple of feet from the bar to do a small fist pump as well as a little dance. If anyone saw you do this, you'd be mortified, but thankfully, you're alone as you do your jig. This is great, fantastic even! While you know your father or mother would help if you asked, the point is that you don't want to have to ask for their money. You're an adult, and you should be able to make your own way through life, right?
Unable to stop yourself, you let a small giggle slip from your lips. You can't wait to tell your mother you got a job. It'll help her worry less about you. She's the best Mom you could've asked for, and you'd love to repay her by not making her worry about you. Sighing, you find your cheeks ache from how wide your smile is. Oh well, there are worse problems you could have.
Giving yourself one last fist pump, you start the walk back to your apartment. However, you only take a few steps when something catches your eye. Halting, you glance down the nearby alleyway to find something metal glinting on the ground from the nearby lights. Curious, you move to see what it is and find what appears to be a wallet lying there. It appears to be a man's wallet, by the look of it. Bending over, you pick it up and find it's most likely leather, with a broken metal chain attached. Guess that's what caught the light, and probably how whoever owned this wallet lost it.
You don't want to be nosy, but you'd also like to return this item to its rightful owner. That's the kind-hearted thing to do, right? You could at least take it to the police if nothing else. Resolute in your decision, you open the wallet to see if they have an ID, and thankfully, they do. However, it's not a human one as you expected. Instead, it's a monster ID card.
Surprised, you pull the card out to find that it belongs to Sans Serif. Huh, interesting. Moving your attention to the photo, you nearly double-take. He's a skeleton monster. At least, you think he's a he. The ID says male, so that's what you're going with for now. Humming, you check the address listed to see if maybe this monster lives close enough for you to turn this in person.
You didn't expect the guy to live right across the parking lot from you.
The apartment complex you live at is a series of buildings that all share one huge parking lot, and this guy's apartment building is directly across from yours. He might even live on the same floor as you in his building if his address is correct. How funny! What are the odds? Well, it's Mr. Serif's lucky day, it seems, since you can very easily return this to him. Plus, taking it to the police now that you know he's a monster would be a bad idea. Law enforcement tends to have the habit of "losing" things that belong to monsters. It's been that way since monsters first emerged, and you didn't see it changing anytime soon.
Swiftly, you place the wallet into your bag, where you know it will be safe, and continue your walk home. It's not an insanely long walk, but it does take slightly longer when, on the way, you decide to stop and pick up some celebratory takeout. Hopefully, this Sans won't mind.
Takeout in hand, you make the rest of your journey home with relative ease. You don't stop at your apartment, though; instead, you go straight to the building across from yours. It's identical to yours in every way, making it simple to know where to go. You jog up the front steps to the front door and step inside the small room that holds mailboxes and the directory. Running your eyes down the list of tenants, you look for number sixty-eight, and sure enough, the name listed says S. Serif. Elated, you click on the button for his apartment, then sit to wait. He might not be home after all.
You never expected him just to buzz you in, but that's exactly what he does, that telltale sound of the buzzer and the door unlocking sounds off in the tiny space. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, you hurriedly enter the now unlocked building and head straight for the elevator. Guess Mr. Serif doesn't care who's here to visit him. Whatever, it's no skin off your nose; it just makes it easier to return his wallet.
The elevator takes you right up to the sixth floor and gives a little ding to indicate the doors are opening just before they do. Hopping off, you march straight to number 68 and give a hefty knock. You immediately hear shuffling on the other side of the door. A moment later, the lock clicks, and the door opens to reveal quite a short skeleton monster. He looks just like the photo on his ID.
Round Skull with almost chubby-like cheeks, sharp fanged teeth, with one replaced with a golden fake, and extremely gorgeous ruby red eye-lights. They glow and flicker in his sockets, so that not even the scar that runs up from that golden tooth and through his left socket deters from how lovely they were. He was wearing simple jeans, a grey t-shirt and a black hoodie. This guy looks perfectly normal, except that he stands at maybe 5'3". This fact must evidently amuse your brain since you immediately blurt out.
"Oh shit, you're short."
Stellar. You're a goddamn genius, Nia. You hate everything.
He glares at you, and you don't blame him, "an' who th' fuck are you?"
Okay, you probably deserve that flushing bright red. You begin fumbling with your bag, and you stammer.
"O-Oh, shit that um was supposed to be in my head." You chuckle weakly, and he just grunts in reply as you finally dig out his wallet. Thrusting the item towards him, you explain, "S-Sorry, I just found your wallet and wanted to return it."
That scowl he'd been sporting suddenly changes to surprise, and without a word, he takes that wallet from your hand, then looks inside it. You assume he wants to make sure you didn't take anything. No worries there!
Evidently satisfied, he grumbles, then gives you a critical eye, "so y' jus' returned my wallet without takin' anything? what moron does that?"
Is he serious right now? You just did him a huge favour, and he thanks you by calling you a moron? This guy sucks. You should've just taken his wallet to the police station, apparently.
"Excuse me?" You're a bit indignant, "Do you want me to steal from you, cause if so, you can just hand your wallet back to me."
"no need t'get yer panties in a bunch." His reply came as a growl before he tossed the wallet backwards into his apartment with oddly great accuracy. The item lands right on the couch, which you can see from the doorway, "where'd y'find it anyway?"
A bit surprised that he's still talking, you answer him, "In an alley beside Grillby's. The chain was glinting from the street lamp."
An annoyed sort of tch noise leaves his teeth, "figures. so why come t'my apartment t'return it? coulda jus' given it ta th' police."
"Because I live in the building across the parking lot." You find yourself answering him for some reason, "So, it was on the way, and besides, the police have a habit of losing items belonging to Monsters." Now, you shrug, "I had a good day and thought I'd be nice." All he does is nod in response. Great, guess that's it then! This has been sufficiently awkward enough, so time to leave. "Well, uh, glad you got that back. Have a good evening, see ya."
Giving him a small wave, you turn and start heading down the hall toward the elevator, your new skeleton acquaintance calls out as you go.
"...thanks."
That's all he says before shutting the door, but really, it's all you needed. A light feeling fills your chest as you break into a grin. Maybe returning his wallet was the right move after all? Feeling a bit better about the whole ordeal, you get into the elevator and head back downstairs. Quickly, you move across the parking lot and into your own building.
Heading straight to your apartment on the sixth floor, you enter to face your darkened home. Testing the lights, you find they're still out, but thankfully, the moon and streetlights are casting a small glow throughout your living room from the large window in your living room. Sighing, you shut your front door and set your takeout down onto your coffee table. You have a dining room table, but you haven't used it in ages.
Your apartment was simple. It had two bedrooms and a bathroom, but you never set foot in the second bedroom. Going in there felt too difficult after what you did; you were running from your failure, but you didn't care. If there were consequences, then you deserved them.
Taking a seat on your couch, you set up your takeout for easier eating access, but don't dig in right away. The first thing you do is call your mother. She should still be awake, as it's not that late out yet. You're proven correct when she answers after a few rings.
"Hello?"
You smile, hearing her voice, "Hey, Mom."
"Lon- Nia, hi sweetie, it's so good to hear from you!"
You wince at hearing her almost use your old nickname. The one he had given you.
"It's good to hear your voice, too, Mom." And it was. You love your mother. "Guess what? I got a new job. I managed not to tank one interview totally."
"That's amazing, Nia! I'm so proud of you, and I know your father will be too. I know this means the world to you. A fresh start after all that's happened over the last three years."
"Thanks, Mom." You murmur, "Do you... Do you think he'd be proud?"
"Evren will always be proud of you, sweetie." She replies, her tone gentle.
You hope she's right. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him. However, you know it's hard for your mother to discuss Evren for too long, so you try to change the topic.
"Thanks, Mom, hey, I actually met someone interesting today."
"Oh?" You can tell she's settling in for your gossip session, making you smile.
"Yeah, he's this skeleton monster that lives in the building across from mine."
"Really? How did you meet him?"
"I found his wallet in an alleyway and returned it to him."
She hums, "Was he nice?"
You snort, "No, not really. He was just interesting."
"Interesting how, sweetie?"
You think about that for a good long moment and realize you have no idea. Sans was just... different, although you couldn't quite put your finger on how. There was just something about him that fascinated you, regardless of how brash he'd been. If you're honest, you'd be willing to see him again and chat more, but you know that's never going to happen. Why is he even plaguing your mind the way he is? He was just someone you met randomly. Shaking your head even though she can't see it, you answer.
"I... don't know, he just was."
She makes that humming sound again, and you're worried she's disappointed in you. Thankfully, her answer manages to assuage your anxiety.
"Alright, sweetie, I believe you. Just be careful, okay? Monsters are not always the nicest people and have a tendency to get into fights."
You're well aware of how monsters treat each other. They've never been shy in letting humans know and see. You know why she's warning you. It's not that she's against monsters; she just worries. You're her baby, and she'd have said something similar if it were a human man you'd met. She worries about you getting hurt, but for good reasons.
"I'll be careful, Mom. Besides, I doubt I'll see him again."
She chuckles, "Sometimes we think that, but then suddenly that person is someone we can't live without."
"I'm not betting on that happening, but I'll still keep my eyes open."
That seems to satisfy your mother as she lets the subject drop in favour of telling you about how she's been doing since you last chatted. Since your parents divorced, she's been travelling a lot, which you love for her. She deserves to be happy, especially after what happened. Both your parents did, and while your mom found travel, your Dad found Sheila. Your stepmother was actually quite a lovely woman, and you enjoyed the time you spent with her. Shill, she wasn't your mother, and there was nothing like sitting and talking to her.
Eventually, you do end the call with your mother, allowing you to finish eating your now-cold but still delicious takeout. As you eat, your mind can't help but wander to that skeleton you'd met today. It was such a small interaction, but for some weird reason, you can't stop thinking about him. He was so different from anyone else you've ever met that you couldn't help but notice him. He was abrupt, rude, but he seemed clever... at least you think anyway. It's not as if you talked a whole bunch. It was the tiniest interaction, so why is it lingering so much in your mind?
Absentmindedly, you wander over toward your big living room window and gaze out at the building adjacent to yours. What's the matter with you? It's not as if you're going to see him again. It was a one-time meeting, and you have more important things to think about, like the new job you're starting tomorrow. Besides, you shouldn't get too attached to any guy right now, especially with what your Dad has planned for you, and you never want to disappoint him. You're his only child now after what you did, so you feel you need to work twice as hard to make him proud.
Sighing, you move away from the window to go back to sitting in your darkened living room. However, if you'd taken the time to really focus on the building past the parking lot, in the apartment directly across from your own, you might've noticed a pair of eyes watching you.
A pair of ruby red eyes.