Note:

(s/c) means "soul colour".

(s/t) means "skin tone".

That would be all for now!

--------------------

"(Y/N)" A distraught voice continued to call out, their tone faltering in surprise the moment you began to open your eyes. "(Y/N). . . Wake up! I'm gonna find someone to heal you."

You reached out a hand towards where you could identify the voice was coming from, promptly reaching contact with something hard and cold.

As you felt your surroundings and stabilized your blurry vision, you noticed you were touching Sans's skull. His smile widened when seeing you respond, and he didn't hesitate to pull you close to him.

"You're gonna be alright. . ." He mumbled, taking the hand you'd extended out and squeezing it lightly in his hold.

You inspected your surroundings carefully, noticing you were no longer at the basement. The area surrounding you was much brighter compared to the dimly lit room you'd spent various weeks in. The walls were taller in height, most of them see-through as they were made almost entirely out of glass. An earthy aroma wafted through the air, and there was more space for you to stretch out.

"You're at Asgore's greenhouse." He explained, taking notice of your confused state. "I, uh. . . managed to wrap your wounds with some bandages, but you're still in danger."

You continued to inspect everything inside the room, this time paying closer attention to the relatively grand display of flowers and cacti. A strong, floral scent was present to your nostrils, though it was also mixed with the metallic odour of blood.

Growing aware of your condition, you looked down at your chest and – without giving it a second thought – you tugged your shirt midway down to your torso in order to inspect your soul's state.

You tried making your upper body scarcely visible to Sans's sight — not wanting for him to worry further over your injured state — and were grateful to see him give you some privacy after  he caught on to what you were about to do.

Your chest ached and, as you pressed your trembling hand against it, you chewed on the inside of your lip to hold back the pain.

You cautiously began to summon out your soul, wanting to see what was wrong with it.

Closing your eyes, you waited until the process came to an end, opening them once feeling the warm sensation spread across your chest.

Your soul carried a faint, almost transparent (s/c) colour and its rhythm was slow.

It seemed to be struggling to carry on beating and, as you grazed your trembling fingertips over it, a sudden wave of pain coursed through your body.

On instinct, you grabbed the first thing closest to you — which was the border of a counter scattered with gardening tools — a silent scream exiting your mouth. You grasped the object tightly in your hand, knuckles fading into a ghostly (s/t) hue with the force exerted into a fruitless attempt towards lessening out the stress the pain caused over your body.

"(Y/N). . ." Sans murmured, wanting, though being unable to ignore the troubles you were currently facing with. The soft thud caused by you grabbing the counter near you had made for him to look towards you.

He offered his help, though you rejected it by waving your free hand in dismissal. He backed away in response to your gesture, his eye sockets furrowed in what could only be labeled as concern.

"Just let me help you." He spoke, a hint of restlessness present over his tone.

The monsters' tradition of seeing someone else's soul outside of battling was something he took seriously, and — even after having turned around to see how you were holding up — his irises continued to avert from your chest.

You shook your head lightly in response to his words, pressing your soul against your injured chest in order to make it vanish again. Once it was gone, you hesitated and pondered over what actions to take next.

You first attempted to stand up from the ground. Your feet wobbled with the more steps you took forward, while your eyes searched for something you could use to tell him what you currently had in mind.

A pen and a gardening notebook were resting over a table set close by, making you take a few steps towards its direction and reach out for the items that lay over it.

With proper the writing materials now firmly in your hold, you wiped away the dried up blood stains from the hand that'd been clutching your abdomen. Both your hands were shaking and you could barely maintain any coordination over them, yet you tried your best to write down your thoughts.

You scribbled something over the last page of the notebook, showing it to the skeleton nearby once you were finished.

"Take my soul to Asgore." You'd written out, causing for Sans's irises to flicker in surprise. "It could help even out the war, and hopefully end it sooner, too."

"Have ya lost your mind?" He spoke, his gaze maintaining solid contact with your eyes. "You still have a chance to live."

You shook your head one final time, smiling at him afterwards. You took cautious steps forward, with your hands slowly reaching out for his face.

The moment you you had him in your hold, you pulled him closer to you. Your lips pressed softly against his cheekbone whereas one of your hands caressed the back of his skull.

After a few moments of silence, you let go of him. You once more took the pen and wrote another message on the notebook.

"My soul is too weak." You continued. "But not enough to be taken away for a better purpose."

"Better purpose?" He inquired, his tone hinting disbelief and eye sockets furrowing in anger, an emotion a more common thing to see whenever he lost another friend during the war. "You're livin' and breathin' right now 'cause of it — Isn't that a good 'nuff purpose?"

"Even if I refuse to do this, I will most likely die soon — There are not enough resources to deal with this kind of injury right now."

After that last, written statement, you began to evoke your soul one final time, wanting to strengthen the reasoning behind your words by showing it to him.

His ever present smile faltered lightly when seeing the state your soul was in. Its (s/c) colour had a faint, almost sickly tone to it and its motion was slow, as it were about to stop beating at any given moment.

Suddenly, your soul inched forward, sensing Sans's was close by. It was calling him through its weak vibrations, hoping to get the message across.

Sans clutched his own chest, feeling his soul react to yours. An individual tear managed to form over the edge of his left socket, which he promptly wiped away with his thumb.

The message had come clear, though he seemed to be having a hard time accepting it.

"(Y/N)." He muttered, reaching out for your hand in a shaken manner. "If this really has to be done, then. . . Let's share one last moment together first."

You smiled warmly at his comment, taking his hand in yours without further hesitation.

A small set of tears managed to leave your previously watery eyes, though — instead of wiping them away with your unoccupied hand — you allowed them to run free all the way down to your neck.

-------------------

It's been a while since I re-read this chapter, and I'm honestly just wondering how the heck did I make this both corny and angst-y at the same time, lol.