It takes what feels like hours of searching, and by the end of it, S-4 is completely exhausted. He's dragging his feet by the time he makes it back to the hallway of his room, and only gives the door a half glance. It looks undisturbed. Sans-Serif must still be safe...
His gaze travels down the hallway, and a few doors down, Frisk is there, eyes closed... once again covered in blood.
...He can't help it. He screams. He screams out even as he stumbles down the hallway, collapsing down to his knees in front of them, trying to focus his gaze on them through the fat tears in his eyesockets and no this is just like last time...
His hands tremble as he cups Frisk's cheek, sending healing magic to the cut, whatever magic he isn't accidentally expelling through his sobbing. He's crying too hard to realize this time it's actually working.
no subject
His gaze travels down the hallway, and a few doors down, Frisk is there, eyes closed... once again covered in blood.
...He can't help it. He screams. He screams out even as he stumbles down the hallway, collapsing down to his knees in front of them, trying to focus his gaze on them through the fat tears in his eyesockets and no this is just like last time...
His hands tremble as he cups Frisk's cheek, sending healing magic to the cut, whatever magic he isn't accidentally expelling through his sobbing. He's crying too hard to realize this time it's actually working.