Sans cried in silence sav for the occasional wavering inhaled, hardly reacting when both his brother and Frisk rushed up the stairs to him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't take the constant nightmares much longer. He was losing his grip on what was real and what wasn't. He needed something solid to hold onto. Something to ground him into reality.

And then Frisk's arms were around him. He froze at first, tension coursing through him. This was real.... Right? He wasn't dreaming? God he hoped not.

He... He couldn't handle it if he was.

And then Frisk leaned into his ear and whispered his salvation. Told him exactly what he needed to hear. He was grounded.

He placed both of his shaky hands on her shoulders, pulling away to look into her eyes, those sweet caring eyes. Eyes that had seen nearly as much as he had, and held the same pain, the same guilt. His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet and meek, something that wasn't truly him,"... Promise..?" Stars, he knew how hypocritical it was to ask for her word, seeing as he didn't ever give his own, but he needed this. Needed some kind of hope to cling to during times like this.

He wished he had her determination.