Elionwy

Mage of The Woods
She didn't bother to turn on the lights as the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon and the streetlamps through the window panes. He followed behind her, taking in his surroundings. He had never seen the studio at night before. He had never noticed the way the gentle moonlight bounced off the extensive wall of mirrors and flickered against the hardwood floors. Their shadows cut silhouettes in the light like cookie cutters into a warm sheet of fresh cookie dough. It was almost serene enough to make him leave his worries at the door.
Almost.
"What'd you bring me here for, Tor?" His voice rang through the silence, jarring him from his own trance.
She turned to him, placing one of her hands against the barre near the mirrors before turning back to stare at her reflection. "...I don't know." Her voice held a longing that he'd never heard before. Before he had the chance to speak up she asked, "Do you remember the night we first met? The real first night?"
His body tensed. Of course he remembered that night. What kind of question was that? Every moment he was under the spell of that angel in red was forever seared into his memory. He was supposed to have blacked out, drunk; supposed to have woken up face down in Grillby's parking lot.
"Toriel I don't want-"
"Sans, please..."
Grillby's was closed that night for some unexplained reason. Despite his best interest he desperately needed to get as fucked up as possible before he went home. It was that, or another restless night of wondering about all the what-ifs in his life. So he tried something new, as his therapist had told him to countess times. He went to a nightclub called "Nova" or something like that. It was crowded and loud and everything else you'd expect from a nightclub. So he threw back a couple of shots, glancing up at the fixed pinpricks of light in the ceiling that he could only guess were supposed to be stars. Just as those low wattage bulbs began to blend together in his vision, the music changed. A Latin beat kicked up, thumping gently behind the smooth articulation of a masterfully played electric guitar. It was one of those sounds you just had to swing your hips to...and then he saw her.
She spun into view, like a flaming red super nova bursting through the black of night. It was like the world stopped spinning and every soul in the room had frozen with baited breath as she swung her hips to the beat. Her long ears fluttered out behind her with every fluid motion and the tule sash wound around her arms billowed in tandem with the deep crimson satin of her dress. She had the entire club in the palm of her hands and then with one fateful swing of her hips, she turned and their eyes locked. It was at that moment that Sans knew he was completely fucking screwed.

Red met blue.

She was tired of being ignored as her husband worked all hours. They were grieving and the only way Asgore knew how to deal with loss was to simply not bother and throw himself into his work instead. She couldn't blame him, of course but whilst she was shrouded in a fog of miserable numbness she had to ensure his world kept on turning. She had her own job to take care of. She had to keep the house in shape, prepare food for the table, and had to deal with her adopted child who had essentially murdered her biological son, alone. So, when he turned her away that night after a long day of losing herself to her grief, she decided enough was enough. She got herself dolled up, threw on one of her old competitive dance costumes, and went out in the hopes of bringing herself back to life. Walking out the door, her beauty froze the atmosphere, leaving Asgore in a daze. She went to the new nightclub on 42nd street with the intention to dance until her feet were as numb as her heart felt.

A flare of blue caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and then she saw him. He had his patchy blue hood up, leaning his head on one arm with a shot glass in the other. Just one of his eyes was glowing vibrantly from the dark. Like fire. If it had been any other day she would have overlooked him, but the way he watched her every move with such intense interest set her soul ablaze. He was watching her. Only her.

Something possessed him as he stood up and approached her. The anxiety he felt deep in his chest burned out of control but his voice fell out smooth and collected. "Your moves are on pointe."

At that moment he could have killed himself. Here he was standing in front of the most majestic creature he'd ever come across in his entire life...and he opened with a pun. Of all the things he could have said; all the prose his drunk mind had fabricated at the bar five feet away and THAT was what he came up with. Way to go, dude. He was about to turn back in front of everyone. Drinking himself to death currently seemed like a viable option, until his spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the most incredible laugh he'd ever heard.

It pierced the air like birdsong on a dewy morning and rang through the club as she hugged her sides and nearly doubled over. She began snorting in hysteria as tears threatened to spill over like bubbling brooks. The temperature of the room rose a few degrees and he couldn't help the smile inching across his face.

She hadn't laughed like that in years and she was still going. Puns were her biggest weakness next to snails. Dance puns were so rare and far between, adding to it all. She gasped for air, collecting herself as she allowed her eyes to lock with his again. He casually extended a hand to her, body turned out to the side in modest respect. He chuckled. "May I have this dance?"

She blinked in surprise. No one had ever asked her to dance before. It was always an obligation, or pulling teeth to get her husband to lead at social events. If she was sober she might have been worried, but the blaze inside urged her on to lace her fingers with his and hold on tight.

He hadn't danced in years. He was quite good at Hip-hop when he was younger but since he had learned of his condition, he stopped. Having Osteogenesis imperfecta he realized he couldn't afford broken dreams AND broken bones. Not when he was his brother's whole world. If his father hadn’t left them for broke he'd still be in college, studying theoretical physics full time. He loved science fiercely, especially with his father right there at his side to guide him. But, now his father was gone, and he wasn't going to stand in the way of Papyrus's dreams of becoming a social worker. Especially, not when the kids had to work so damn hard at it. For Sans, it was easy. He could sleep through a semester and still manage straight A's via cutting corners and letting his witt protect him. Papyrus, on the other hand, genuinely wanted to learn. He wanted to be in school so badly he'd fight tooth and nail for it. So Sans stepped down, dropped out of college, and worked odd jobs to make ends meet. He made sure Papyrus's tuition was covered, he had the proper attire, the proper books and equipment so he could be the best he possibly could and focus wholeheartedly on his career. Even if it meant skipping out on a new hoodie and sewing on patches instead.

For a while, Sans washed cars, washed dogs, washed windows, did favors here and there, but what really worked for him was street performance. It was so easy too. He broke up a large cardboard box, laid it out in the city square, picked up an old radio from a thrift shop and danced to his soul's content. When he got sick of that, he tried stand-up and got a laugh or two sometimes. He'd usually go home with $40 to $150 average for a day of that, but sometimes it'd shoot up to $200 or even $300 during the holidays. When he really needed the cash sometimes he'd use blue magic to up the anty of his acts. Blue magic wasn't common in the city anymore, so his acts of telekinesis often astounded and amazed his viewers. He could exaggerate flips, hover, and perform dance moves that many would daresay were physically impossible.

One night he got particularly cocky and flung himself just a little too high. He didn't think much of it. He knew how to break fall properly. And break he did. His arm in three places and his leg in two. His doctor then informed him of the chronic genetic anomaly that had been with him since birth. She said if he wanted to keep medical bills down, he needed to stop putting himself at risk. He couldn't dance anymore.

But tonight he was tipsy and, frankly, he wanted to kill himself anyway, so he figured why the hell not? He tugged her onto the dance floor and let the rhythm consume him. His style, so different from hers.

She loved it. The way the beat took control and seemed to pull his soul every which way like a marionette prisoner to the music. The way blue spilled forth and into the air from his left eye like fire. She summoned fire magic to her hands like sparklers and threw herself to the mercy of the drums. His blue magic guiding her body in ways she had never conceived before in all her years of dancing experience. They were a spectacle. All eyes in the club were on him and her. The attention was theirs. INC SEC

"...Of course I remember." He mumbled and suddenly they were pulled from a beautiful memory; brought right back to reality. Gravity still existed and as sweet as the fall was, they still woke up on the cold hard ground. They were just as alone as when they started. "That night was a mistake."

She gripped the barre tightly in her hands and stared down at her feet. It was never a mistake for her. She knew the second he offered to dance that it wouldn't be. She knew it when he smiled at her after they ditched the place and went out for dinner. She knew it when she kissed his forehead at the end of the night whilst they were tangled in linens. For the first time in a long time it felt like somebody cared that she was alive.
"No-"
"Toriel you were fucking married!" He turned sharply, throwing his arms down from his pockets in anger.
"I was unhappy, Sans."
"You USED me Tori!" The room lit up blue but that wasn't the color being exchanged between the two. His eye lit ablaze in an uncontrollable display of rage that his kind could only express through magic. "There ain't any way around that! You fucking used me, Toriel!"
She wanted to say something; anything to console him, but she couldn't deny the truth. She had no right to. All she could do was stand there in silence and lower her head as the tears she'd been holding back forever threatened to spill.
"What? Am I supposed to just ignore that or something?! You could've said something, anything, before it went too far!" He growled low, reigning himself in. He clenched his fists tight enough to hear the knuckles crack as the light died. "But you didn't. You let it happen. You tricked me."
"...I was never trying to hurt you, Sans." Her voice was soft and remorseful, yet oddly calm. "That was never my intent. I just...at first I thought I hadn't felt that way in a long time but...as the night progressed I realized, I had never felt that way before at all. I didn't want it to end. I was at a loss for what to do..."
"Do you have any idea of the kinda shit you put me through?!" His anger returned with new vigor. "You had a husband! Kids! You had a life! Yet here I was, so hopelessly, cut me open, slit my non-existent throat in love with you that I wanted to kill myself because I knew I could never have you! No matter how often I saw you, or texted you stupid jokes, or walked with you to the hospital to see your kid! No matter how much more I fucking fell for you with every time I saw you! I. Couldn't. Have you."
He was panting heavily, wound up fists slowly unfurling. He had just spilled his heart out right there in front of her. All the years of hiding, longing, begging a higher power he didn't believe in to do something, were puddled on the floor, vulnerable, all while tears of frustration found their way to his eye sockets. "You were alive when all I wanted to do was die."

"Dance with me?" Her voice was soft and pleading. She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt like dancing could fix the situation they were in. Maybe it could make things better. She knew it was stupid but her heart told her she had to try. She extended a hand out to him and for a moment she stopped breathing. It was like he had drifted far away and wasn't looking to stop. Yet, all she wanted to do was run after him. She couldn't have him. Is this what she had put him through?
He grudgingly looked at her hand out of the corner of his eye. Of course she wouldn't apologize. Did she even really care? He was a tool to be used; to make her forget...and yet somehow, as his eyes shifted to meet hers, all he wanted to do was grab onto her and twirl her around.

"No, Toriel. I'm sorry."
Her eyes welled up with tears. "Sans, I'm sorry! You know I'm sorry! I didn't think I could fall in love with someone at that time. Life and the world just kept turning around me, yet I was stuck in a fog of grief for my son. I watched my child struggle and my marriage collapse and I didn't even bat an eye! I was cold and selfish and numb, but after that night I just-." She was shaking now. She couldn't control the tears that flowed freely down her face and matted her fur. "You reminded me that I could feel again. I could feel more than I ever had! I didn't think I could fall in love with anyone else but...but I did..."

He didn't know how to feel anymore as he walked over to her and gestured for her to lean down so he could wipe her tears and smooth the fur around her eyes. "Tori-"
"I'm sorry...but I'm still in love with you, Sans."
He wiped the blue from his face, drawing away from her.
 
Good story overall. Only actual thing I'd suggest is maybe add in the genre(s) in the Title, do people know what they're getting into.

Personal problem is that I ship Toriel with Asgore.
 
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