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redeyedryu · 7 years

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Apathy & Happenstance

Chapter 3 - Productivity and Perplexity | 1 | 2 | x | 4

I never got around to posting chapters 3 and 4 here on Tumblr since I wrote these when my laptop was being worked on and I only had mobile—which is absolutely terrible for formatting—so here they are before I get to posting chapter 5.

Summary: You go for a walk, grab some food, and get some questions answered. A hundred more spring up.

In the end, you decide it might be best to try and get in contact with the “friendly” looking version of Sans and Papyrus. However, doing so winds up a bit more troublesome than you would have thought.

Turns out Sans doesn't have any kind of social media account you can tie him to, though there seem to be quite a lot of fan pages dedicated to him? For some reason?? Across all kinds of different media platforms??? Apparently he's some kind of stand up comedian?

...

Wait a second…

...

Sans… Stand up comedian... A comic... A Comic Sans. Your expression goes deadpan at that realization and you barely manage to contain the urge to groan.

“Oh my god…” you mutter aloud, not even a second later, another realization clicking into place.

Then wouldn't that mean Papyrus as in the other graphic designer’s nightmare of a font? Was that intentional? A happy coincidence?

You shake your head, begrudgingly bemused. What's next, someone named after Wingdings? Jokerman? You're silently snickering at the idea of someone possessing the name ‘Impact’ as you work on searching up Papyrus. Maybe you’ll have better luck with him?

You're not disappointed.

Papyrus, or as you have managed to stumble upon his most used online handle: CoolSkeleton95, appears to have an overabundance of accounts across various social media websites. It doesn't take you long at all to find him on numerous social platforms, and judging by his friend count, it doesn't look like he ever denies a friend request. You didn't even know you could have that many friends on ExpressionBook.

Now… The big question is, how are you supposed to even broach this odd situation?

“Hey, so these two skeleton monsters that look an awful lot like you and your brother kinda just poofed into my apartment outta thin air. I'd really appreciate it if you guys would come and take them off my hands.”

...

You run a hand through your hair and puff up a cheek in frustration, pausing to lean against a nearby building. Yeah, no way is that going to work as an opener. Monsters and magic might be an accepted fact of life these days but that doesn't mean people are suddenly going to believe crazy talk.

You push off the building with a huff, resuming your aimless wandering.

“So what am I supposed to do, then?” you query the air around you, head snapping back with a sigh. “So you don't know me, and I don't know you, but d’you think you could come over to my place and rid me of a couple skeletons?” You shake your head with a chuckle. That sounded even worse. Like you were asking someone over to dispose of dead bodies or… something.

You sigh. Why does communication have to be so hard?

“I'm gonna be stuck with them forever, aren't I?” you mutter out, head hanging forward.

With any luck they won't have stuck around your apartment. Maybe they left? Maybe when you get back no one will be there and you can just write off the incident as some kind of lucid day dream? And then it I occurs to you that you just left two strangers unattended in your apartment. With all your stuff… Oops. Remedy that thought: You'll be lucky if they're gone and all your stuff is still in your apartment when you get home. You entertain the idea of running home, or of calling the cops, but inevitably you elect to merely shrug it off. You've got insurance if the worst case scenario happens, and it's not like you're especially attached to anything back at your place anyway. They're just material possessions, after all; easily replaced if lost or broken.

As you're crossing another intersection, one block deeper into the downtown district, you decide you've been overthinking this whole thing. Forgoing sending out a friend request first, you type out a message to the less edgy Papyrus.

You : Are there any other skeleton monsters beside you and your brother?

You nod to yourself, satisfied. Straight to the point and it doesn't give away anything unnecessary, nor does it come off as creepy and easy to misinterpret. You pocket your phone to await a response, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Boy does it feel good to be productive! You should reward yourself, you think, just as you round a corner and find yourself standing before your favorite local diner. Huh. Guess your subconscious was on the same page. There's a sudden grumble in your stomach and you're salivating, enticed by the idea of a good burger, fries, and an old fashioned milkshake.

Heck. Yes.

As you're pushing open the door there’s a ping from your pocket. A couple of wait staff greet you by name with a smile and wave as you walk through the door, retrieving your cell. You reciprocate their greeting as you take a seat (always a corner booth, close to the back), noting Papyrus has already responded.

For some reason you thought it would take a bit longer to get a response. Especially from someone who seemed to be such a social butterfly—surely he must get tons of messages throughout the day—but you're not going to complain. Papyrus’s speedy response time means you'll be able to get this figured out all the quicker.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS : GREETINGS, HUMAN! I SEE THAT YOU ARE INTERESTED IN SKELETON MONSTERS—A FITTING CHOICE, AS SKELETONS ARE QUITE GREAT! YOU HAVE POSED A MOST INTERESTING QUESTION, THOUGH I MUST CONFESS THAT IF THERE ARE ANY SKELETONS BESIDE MY BROTHER AND I, I HAVE NEVER MET THEM.

Dang it. That does not bode well.

You tap an index finger on the table (a nervous habit you’ve never quite been able to get under control) and frown. Not a good omen but it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re boned.

“Heh. Boned.” You can’t help but snicker at the unintentional pun. It's silly and dumb but what can you say, you're easily amused.

There’s a bit more to the message, interestingly enough, so you read on.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS : I SEE THAT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN TO SEND ME A REQUEST OF FRIENDSHIP, SO I HAVE DONE YOU THE FAVOR OF SENDING ONE MYSELF! NO THANKS ARE NECESSARY, YOU ARE WELCOME!

You quirk a brow at that last bit, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. What an interesting character this skeleton is. The contrast between him and his spiky counterpart couldn't be more notable—and you haven’t even met this one.

Looking at your notifications, you do indeed see a friend request from “THE GREAT PAPYRUS”. Clicking it brings you to the ExpressionBook app proper and you accept it—not like it would hurt anything to do so. Besides, you can always delete him from your friend’s list later.

It’s just as you’re switching back over to the messenger to type out a reply that a waitress comes over to take your order.

“Hey there, Y/n!” she greets you with a smile. “Didya need a menu or’re you gonna get the usual?”

You flip your phone over and place it down on the table, sliding it a bit to the side. You smile up at her and respond, “Hey Julie! The usual would be great, thank you.” You can respond to Papyrus later, you decide, food first.

It’s a little over an hour later and you’re standing outside your apartment door, staring heatedly at it. You’ve got a paper bag in one hand and your keys in the other. You’re straining your ears, half tempted to press yourself against the door, trying to hear anything from inside. It’s silent, and that can be a good thing, but it could also be a very bad thing.

You take a deep breath, hold it in for one second. Two. Three. Exhale at four. Time to face the music. Either they’re gone and everything’s still there, they’re gone and so is everything in your apartment, or—heaven forbid—they’re still there and you didn’t just dream that whole situation up.

You unlock the door, fingers wrapping around the silver metal handle. Subconsciously, your grip tightens on the paper bag in your opposite hand, the paper crinkling ever so slightly with the action, and then you twist the knob. The door swings open and you step through the threshold. A quick glance around of what you can see shows everything still appears to be in order…

And then you hear it—a muted thump, thump, thump of something tapping out a steady rhythm. It stops abruptly, however, to be replaced by the sound of fabric shifting and of weight being displaced from the cushions of your couch. Then there is the sound of footsteps, two pairs, closing in on you. One pair sounds heavy and rushed, as if its owner is walking with a very distinct purpose in mind; the other a slower, more casual beat. You sigh.

Dang it. So much for that.

You slip your shoes off, hang your keys on the rack nearby, and slip out of your jacket, hanging it on the coatrack to the side. By the time you're done there are two skeletons standing in front of you and they don't exactly look like happy campers.

Your eyes flick over them, a brow quirking at the impatient look to the spiky Edgelord. He’s got his arms crossed, his sockets angled sharply. You get the feeling that if he had a nose, he'd be looking down it at you. You're pretty sure he’s scowling, too.

The sweaty one doesn't look all that different from earlier, though there appears to be more red sweat beaded along the crown of his skull than earlier. He's also shifting nervously, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, shark grin tight and bordering on something of a grimace.

It's weird, you can't help but think, how similar they look to the other two and can yet be so blaringly different.

“Ah!” you exclaim with a snap, the action smoothly transitioning into a point, that reminds you. “That's right! I nearly forgot.”

Before either of them can say anything, you twirl around to dig through the pocket of the jacket you had tossed your phone in. Pulling your cell out (and awkwardly fumbling with the paper bag in your hand for a brief moment) you quickly pull up your camera app and snap a pic. After the picture’s taken you tilt your focus down, intent on pulling up the specific messaging app you need. You miss the way Papyrus’s sockets squint at the sound of a shutter going off, miss the way Sans’s sockets crease and his frown dips into a scowl, far too focused on finally responding to the more bubbly skeleton’s message from earlier.

You : [image attachment]

I don't suppose these guys are related then? They kind of just showed up at my place today. Apparently they also go by Sans and Papyrus?

Locking the phone you slip it into the back pocket of your jeans. With that now done you're another step closer to reclaiming your apartment—your normality! Gosh, isn't this exciting? You’ll be slipping right back into your regularly scheduled monotony in no time!

But why’re you so eager to push this opportunity away?

Because you can't guarantee you'll be safe, that you won't get hurt, you argue against that inner voice. It's always wanting you to take risks, to push yourself out of your comfort zone. Trying to tell you that you really aren't happy with the current setup to your life. But no. No, it has no idea what it's talking about. Of course you're happy. Of course you are.

“TSK.” Edgelord ...clicks his tongue? Somehow? effectively snapping you back to reality. He's still giving you that ‘holier than thou’ look as his maw parts, clearly eager to get back to his interrogation from earlier. “JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, HUMAN, THAT YOU CAN JUST WALK OUT ON THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS?”

Yeesh. Control freak much?

You roll your eyes and mirror his pose, arms crossing over your chest, paper bag crinkling with each movement, and pop a hip to the side. There is no way you are going to put up with this kind of bullshit in your own home.

“For your information, Edgelord, my name is Y/n, and in case you didn't know, I live here. You and sweaty McSharktooth over there’re the ones who should be answering my questions, considering the way you two just intruded into my space.”

There's a split second where Papyrus’s eye sockets seem to widen but it's over before you're even sure that you saw it. You take a deep breath through your nose in an effort to calm yourself, and then press on.

“Look, Papyrus, Sans. I know it's been a good few years since the barrier was broken and monsters were integrated into society and all that, but excuse me if I need to take a moment to clear my head when two strangers (who look like edgy embodiments of the Grim Reaper, mind you) literally poof into my house. I know magic’s a thing now but that doesn't mean this is an everyday kinda deal for me, alright?”

“wait, hang on a sec,” Sans abruptly cuts in. “ya mean we're on the surface?”

Your brows furrow in confusion at that comment. You look to the shorter skeleton, some of the tension easing from your body. From all the hostility and anger exuded by Papyrus you had been preparing yourself to get into a fist fight or something; at the very least you were prepping yourself for a screaming match of epic proportions.

“Uh… duh?” Is your oh so elegant response. “Where the hell else would you be?”

“you mean we ain't underground?” You squint at him, head slowly shaking. Did they not even move from the living room in that hour and a half or so you were gone? You breathe out a quiet and low, drawn out “no…”

“holy shit.” he mutters, sparing a quick glance to the taller skeleton (who looks equally as shell shocked, you note) before focusing back on you. “yer jokin.”

He's looking at you, the emotion—the sheer confusion—clear on his face. He almost looks like he’s just daring you to confirm that this is all some kind of elaborate setup. A bead of sweat trickles down from the crown of his skull.

You shake your head harder, your hand slipping from where it's tucked between your opposite arm and torso to be angled at him, palm forward. A telltale sign for ‘stop, holdup’.

“No?” you respond, eyebrows raised, “I'm really not. That'd be a really shitty thing to joke about.”

The skeletons give each other a strange look and you can't help but to quirk a brow at their odd behavior. Why are they so surprised? Surely all monsters have migrated to the surface by now, let alone be aware that the barrier had fallen.

“You guys do know that Mount Ebott is something like… fifteen hundred miles northeast of here, right?”

It's silent for a moment, as if they need time to let this information really sink in. You absently register a muffled ping from your pocket as Sans mutters another “holy shit.”

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Underfell Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Apathy and Happenstance

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