Whumptober Day 21: “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”
It was one of those days, those terrible days that made Sans feel too much and nothing at all. Currently “not at all” was stronger, urging him to burrow deeper into bed and not exist for a while. Beyond, however, he could sense everything else waiting. He was at the height of a rollercoaster, distant, floaty, weightless. The drop led into a bed of thorns—cruel, piercing truths.
Kinda pathetic, just lying here. Doing nothing. Being nothing. Guess it comes naturally to you, huh?
Did tears come naturally too? If so, he was a little too numb to feel them.