Aftertale: Frisk (Chapter 7)
Posted September 5th, 2018 by CatKeeper
in My Little Fantasy Worlds
oOOf it's been a while
Sorry, things got crazy. Anyways, to be expected here: MOAR SHIPS (as usual), Papyrus's new recipe, and some unexpected DRAMA! (ooooooo tension)
I walked slightly behind Sans, not wanting to have to look at him. I was unsure about what happened in the library, and I didn’t want to have to think about it.
When Sans grabbed my hand, after we arrived at the library, I could’ve let go.
But I didn’t.
I’ve never been into guys, or anyone, really. Not counting kindergarten. After that, I just hung out with both guys and girls, and I never knew what to say when some guy named Colin asked me out. I told him I’d think about it, then never talked to him again. I still don’t know what I should’ve done. Maybe I should have at least told him I wasn’t into him.
My point is, I don’t do that kind of thing.
When Sans realized I was still holding on, he quickly apologized and let go. Something inside me was a little upset, although I had no idea why, and I think I let it show. Sans stared at me for a second longer after letting go, as if he was trying to figure something out.
Later, as we headed home, I wanted to say something. Anything. But I had no idea what. It seemed like Sans didn’t have anything to say either.
When we reached the house, Sans opened the door, letting me go in first. “Thanks,” I mumbled. He nodded in reply.
As we entered the living room, Papyrus burst out of the kitchen. “HUMAN! SANS!” He lifted me into the air, spinning around. “I’VE DONE IT! I’VE DONE IT! I’VE DONE IT!”
I laughed as Papyrus set me down and grabbed Sans for a giant hug. “Oof! Done… what, Pap?” Sans wheezed, being hugged so tightly by Papyrus he couldn’t get a good breath.
Papyrus plopped Sans into a chair at the table. “SIT, FRISK! I HAVE MADE A MOST AMAZING CONCOCTION!”
Sans and I shared a look. There was no happy medium for Papyrus’s cooking, and we both knew it. It was either insanely awful or somehow incredible. When the latter occurred, the next time Papyrus chose to make that meal, he had made some change that turned the flavor upside-down or made the dish inedible altogether.
Running back out of the kitchen with two plates in his hands, Papyrus shouted gleefully, “MAC AND CHEESE!”
He set the plates down in front of Sans and me.
“I WAS TALKING TO A RESTAURANT COOK OVER THE PHONE WHILE YOU TWO WERE OUT, AND I ASKED HIM IF HE KNEW ANY GOOD PASTA RECIPES. HE SAID HIS SON LOVES ‘MACARONI AND CHEESE,’ SO I INVESTIGATED THESE STRANGE WORDS. AND HERE WE ARE NOW!”
Papyrus stared at us in pure joy, waiting for us to try it.
I looked at Sans and shrugged, grinning. Might as well, I thought, taking a bite.
The flavor was HUGE. My eyes began watering, my chest heaved, and I could barely chew for lack of breath because the flavor was so strong I could feel it in my nose.
When I could finally swallow it, I asked, “Papyrus-what did you use in this?”
Proudly, Papyrus proclaimed, “ONLY THE BEST PASTA AND CHEESE! MANICOTTI NOODLES AND GENUINE PULE!”
Sans took a bite right as Papyrus said this. I could see the shock quickly set in, and he struggled to swallow, just as I had.
While Sans recovered, I asked, “Wait… where did you even get pule cheese so fast? The only places I know where you can get cheeses like pule require delivery… from somewhere like Europe, or even Asia.”
“THERE IS A SHOP ABOUT TEN MILES AWAY THAT SELLS IT!”
Sans choked. “Pap, how much was that cheese?” He asked him, pupils rapidly disappearing, leaving only the darkness of his eye sockets.
Papyrus thought about this for a moment. “WELL, THE MAN WHO SOLD IT TO ME HAD JUST HAD IT BROUGHT IN, SO… HE WANTED A LARGE AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR IT.”
“How. Much. Was. That. Cheese.” Sans’ eyes seemed to get even darker with each word.
“I MADE A RATHER LARGE BATCH. IT REQUIRED TWO POUNDS OF THE CHEESE, SO… ONE THOUSAND, SIX HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS!” Papyrus boldly stated.
I was shocked that Papyrus was willing to spend that much money on just cheese, but Sans was eerily calm.
“Papyrus,” he flatly said. “Where did you get the money to buy that cheese?”
“OH, I FOUND A RATHER LARGE STACK OF MONEY IN THE COUCH CUSHIONS-”
Papyrus was cut off by Sans throwing the table against the wall with his magic. A plate shard flew out and skimmed my face. I instinctively shot my hand up to guard the spot where it hit.
Sans then rose from his seat, left eye flashing blue and yellow rapidly. “What did you say?” He hissed.
“I-IT WAS JUST THERE! I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO ANY HARM… SANS, PLEASE DON’T GET ANGRY, ESPECIALLY NOT IN FRONT OF THE HUMAN!”
Sans tensed up, then relaxed, breathing slowly. “Okay. You’re right. Why don’t we go up to my room and talk about it?”
Papyrus nodded, then led Sans upstairs, rubbing his back.
Meanwhile, I was left alone downstairs with a huge mess, a cut on my face, and a ton of broken glass on the floor.
I put on a pair of flip-flops to avoid stepping on any broken glass, then pulled the table back to its normal position, not glued to the wall by the spilled mac and cheese. I then grabbed the handheld vacuum cleaner and sucked up a bunch of the glass, and went over the floor again with a mop and a wet rag to get any leftover tiny pieces. Finally, I grabbed a bandage for my face. (A/N: anybody understand this reference?) When I was satisfied with it and figured there was no glass left, I flopped down on the couch.
What’s taking them so long? I thought. It was strangely quiet up there.
Then I remembered Papyrus had said he found the money in the couch. I stood up and lifted the large cushion.
Underneath was a briefcase. I opened it to find a few stacks of twenty dollar bills, looking to be equal to about three thousand dollars. What on Earth was Sans doing with all this money?
I grabbed the case, shutting it as I did, and walked up the stairs to Sans’s room. Pressing my ear to the door, I made sure the two were actually in there.
“SANS, IT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL TO FEEL THAT WAY! THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!” Papyrus was saying. Sans was silent.
I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so I pulled away and knocked on the door, then placed the briefcase at the door. I quickly hurried down the steps and out of the house, grabbing my shoes as I went. I didn’t want to be here for this. It didn’t seem right.
See more stories by CatKeeper