(Honestly? Eddie doesn't have a single happy secret in him.
Eddie couldn't argue to anyone that he was particularly good at reading people. But he wasn't bad at it either. He had enough sensitivity that he could read pain on someone else or pain's many variations. The funny thing was, he had never thought a skeleton could be expressive. But Eddie notices that softening in Sans. Another look he's not too used to. He holds it in his minds eye, like smoke, not quite sure if he could do anything with it, but aware of it all the same.
It's not something he understands or realizes at the surface of his mind, but somewhere buried inside of Eddie he understands that Sans is an empathetic person. He is not listening to Eddie with the pity of an adult, but with the compassion of a friend.
That's a pretty substantial difference.)
Yeah? (He asks with sheer hope because God, he doesn't think the guilt from it would ever go away.)
...You're right. (Though Eddie would prefer his friends there at least. That wasn't what Sans meant though and he knew it.
He picks at the grass absently, twisting it between his fingers.)
I'm...not really sick. (He mumbles.) I mean, I'm sick in the head I guess, but like, my lungs are fine. My mom...she's always telling me what I can or can't do and sometimes I know what I can do but then I wonder if she's right and. I don't know.
(His eyes dart up to Sans and he looks fidgety.)
I know my inhaler doesn't actually do anything but like. It's. Sometimes I just need it still.
(It sounds stupid when he puts it like that but alas.)
So yeah, I guess she does give me a lot to worry about. I try to remember it's bullshit but then I get scared about something and I can't remember. And then I start thinking that she's not totally wrong. Like, there's so much bacteria that can make you sick and kill you it's disgusting.
no subject
Eddie couldn't argue to anyone that he was particularly good at reading people. But he wasn't bad at it either. He had enough sensitivity that he could read pain on someone else or pain's many variations. The funny thing was, he had never thought a skeleton could be expressive. But Eddie notices that softening in Sans. Another look he's not too used to. He holds it in his minds eye, like smoke, not quite sure if he could do anything with it, but aware of it all the same.
It's not something he understands or realizes at the surface of his mind, but somewhere buried inside of Eddie he understands that Sans is an empathetic person. He is not listening to Eddie with the pity of an adult, but with the compassion of a friend.
That's a pretty substantial difference.)
Yeah? (He asks with sheer hope because God, he doesn't think the guilt from it would ever go away.)
...You're right. (Though Eddie would prefer his friends there at least. That wasn't what Sans meant though and he knew it.
He picks at the grass absently, twisting it between his fingers.)
I'm...not really sick. (He mumbles.) I mean, I'm sick in the head I guess, but like, my lungs are fine. My mom...she's always telling me what I can or can't do and sometimes I know what I can do but then I wonder if she's right and. I don't know.
(His eyes dart up to Sans and he looks fidgety.)
I know my inhaler doesn't actually do anything but like. It's. Sometimes I just need it still.
(It sounds stupid when he puts it like that but alas.)
So yeah, I guess she does give me a lot to worry about. I try to remember it's bullshit but then I get scared about something and I can't remember. And then I start thinking that she's not totally wrong. Like, there's so much bacteria that can make you sick and kill you it's disgusting.