The nightmares were relentless and the longer Frisk went without answers, the worst they seemed to get. Ever since Frisk confided in her mother about Sans, Toriel had been keeping a much closer eye on her. She had made a few attempts at sneaking down to the basement, but they were all in vain. Toriel would no longer allow Frisk to be left alone in the house anymore…and it was incredibly frustrating - but it’s not like Frisk had anyone but herself to blame. In that moment of desperation, she had told her. She was scared. Had no one else to talk to. What else was she supposed to do? Consequently…Frisk spent many sleepless nights lying awake wishing she had not said anything at all.

It had been well over two weeks now since she last spoke with Sans. It was agonizing and she had never felt lonelier. She had wondered on many occasions if Sans had come back to the door only to not find her there. The thought formed a pit in her stomach…the idea that he would come back to talk to her and her not being there time and time again…made her feel horrible. Especially after what he had told her. She wondered what he had been going through. How he was. What was going on out there. She thought of Papyrus…how Sans was dealing with the loss of his brother on his own…even if he was the one that killed him…she knew how much he loved him…she knew he must be grieving. She wondered if Sans killing him was some kind of accident…but there was no way for her to ask. All she could do was speculate.

Her mother still offered to go out there to check on things for her, to which she still profoundly refused. She still didn’t know what was going on outside the door and was still too scared to send her mother out into possible danger. Even if Sans wasn’t dangerous…what of the Royal Guard? What if they captured her or something? Found out she had been harboring a human? Her mind raced through all kinds of different scenarios of what could go wrong to the point that Frisk had firmly decided that it was off the table.

No…What Frisk needed was to get an opportunity to talk to Sans again on her own. That’s all. Sans had promised that he would come back. Surely he had been making attempts…if Frisk could just convince her mother to trust her again…to leave her home alone…

Though after another two weeks of failed attempts…it seemed impossible. A whole month had now passed without her best friend and it was really taking its toll on her mentally. The nightmares were only getting worse, and she was starting to grieve the loss of Sans as if he had died. She was losing hope as it was really beginning to seem like she would never get a chance to talk to him again…until…

“ACHOO!”

Toriel rubbed her nose gently with a handkerchief, which was slowly beginning to turn bright red. Her eyes watered as she lay in her bed, sniffing and stifling another sneeze. 

Frisk was sitting on the edge of the bed, a glass of water in hand. She carefully held it out to her mother, offering her a drink.

“...I don’t think you can keep calling these ‘allergies’, Mother…you’ve clearly caught some kind of illness.”

Toriel set her handkerchief on her lap and accepted the water from Frisk’s hands, sniffing again, her nose very runny. When she spoke, even her voice sounded almost hoarse.

“I…am unsure, dear. I do not believe I’ve come down with anything…I do not see how that would be possible…I cannot even remember the last time I fell ill.”
She took a sip of water. Then stifled yet another sneeze.

“However, I will say that I have noticed the house seems to be getting dirty much more frequently as of late. I’m finding myself needing to dust surfaces far more often than I used to…”

She chuckled.
“Perhaps it is due to you being a more active presence outside of the house in the past month.”

Frisk didn’t respond to that immediately and tried to force a meek smile. Of course her mother was referring to the fact that she had been dragging her out of the house every time she needed to go out for something nowadays. Was she implying that more dust was settling since Frisk wasn’t in the house as often as she used to be anymore? She wasn’t sure that entirely made sense…

Toriel caught on to Frisk’s silence and fake smile. She quickly moved on from the subject, knowing it was probably still a sensitive topic for her daughter yet.

“I believe I may have just been too caught up in cleaning, is all. Too much dust always did agitate my sinuses and give me a headache - which is why I have reason to believe it’s simply allergies. I’m sure once I get some rest and let my head clear up, I’ll be fine.”

Frisk tried to smile more genuinely.

“I hope so. I’ll help with the dusting more so it doesn’t make you so sick.”

Though, even Frisk was mildly surprised if it really was just cleaning that made her mother appear so ill. In all her years growing up, she had never seen Toriel be so affected by something as simple as dusting before.

Toriel smiled back.

“That’s very thoughtful.”

She set the glass of water on her bedside table and dabbed her nose with her handkerchief again.

“Thank you, dear.”

Toriel gently caressed her head, which was starting to throb slightly from the sinus pressure.

Frisk stood up, patting the back of her mother’s hand gently.

“I’ll let you get some rest, Mom. Please call me if you need anything.”

Toriel smiled warmly and nodded, before laying down fully in her bed and rolling over. Frisk swiftly took her leave, flicking off her mother’s bedroom lights and quietly shutting the door behind her.

Her heart skipped a beat. This was it. The chance she had been waiting for. Of course she was worried for her mother and of course she cared, but she also wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass her by. Without another moment’s hesitation, she moved quickly and quietly towards the stairs that lead to the basement. Once she arrived at the top step and placed her hand on the railing, however, she did pause briefly in her stride - noticing something. She carefully lifted her hand back up from the railing and moved her fingers closer to her face, examining them.

Dust. There was dust on her hand. She rubbed her fingers together, confirming it, then leaned forward to examine the railing closer - and sure enough, there was already a decently thick layer of dust on the handrail as well. How odd…she was sure her mother had just dusted the railing only yesterday…how could it already be so dusty? She took a mental note to dust it for her after she checked to see if Sans was down there and continued her descent, wiping the dust off her hand and onto her sweater.

It had been a month since she spoke to Sans. A month. As she moved, she pondered what she would even say to him in the short time she might have. She had so many questions that demanded answers, but she also wanted to know how HE was doing. Then again, she also had to stop and make sure she wasn’t getting ahead of herself - after all…she didn’t even know if he would BE there…He promised her he would come back, but didn’t say when he would come back. Maybe he was coming back every day? Again, that idea made her heart ache…if Sans had been coming back every day for a month only for her to not be there…Frisk grimaced at the thought. What if Sans thought she didn’t want to talk to him anymore? She hated that thought, too, but she figured there was no point in dwelling on it. All she could do now was hope that Sans would show up at some point while her mother was recovering from her sickness.

Before she knew it, she was there. Standing in front of the large solid door at the end of the long corridor again. She hadn’t even realized how fast she got there, being so lost in thought. She slowly closed the distance between herself and the door with a couple more steps, then placed her hand on its cold, stone surface. She put her ear up against it to see if she could hear anything, then whistled her and Sans’ secret tune. She closed her eyes, listening hard. Listening for anything…but nobody came.

Her heart sank. Of course she shouldn’t have been so optimistic. It had been a whole month…what were the chances Sans would be here now. Sure…it was close to around the time they used to always meet before, but…still…it’s not like they had anything scheduled…She just hoped Sans hadn't given up on her and made the wrong assumptions...

Frisk let out a dejected sigh and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor in her usual spot. She wrapped her arms around her legs, rested her head on her knees…and waited. She figured she could get away with waiting at least a couple hours before she had to go back upstairs to check on her mom.

Seconds ticked by, and she’d let out another whistle. Minutes would pass, and she’d let out another. The monotonous humming of the corridor and the sound of a gentle draft blowing in from somewhere droned on. Her eyes began to droop, her lack of sleep from the ongoing nightmares starting to catch up to her. She let out another weak whistle. An hour would pass, and the world around her slowly faded to black as she felt herself drift off to sleep.