video 01 | Aortic Aneurysm
(You know who is not going to react to this situation decently no matter how many times it's explained to him? Eddie. You know who doesn't have a good game face against fear? Also Eddie. He's alone, he needs an adult, and he's pretty sure they don't restock on inhalers here. He knew he didn't need it, not technically, but he also knew that his lungs were contracting at a rate that lead to hyperventilating and as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what an asthma attack was all about. He was having an asthma attack. Maybe. His body was thinking about it.
By the way, he's definitely just been staring at the video for a couple of silent seconds, his jaw working back and forth as he just tried to remind himself that he was actually capable of breathing. This kid......)
My mom's going to fucking kill me.
(The words are whispered under his breath and he would think twice about swearing if he realized how many adults might be watching this video. He was enough of a loser that he could get the whole communication device thing, really, that was fine. But he wasn't quite able to wrap his mind around the full extent of it all.
After a second, he decides fuck it. He needs his inhaler. It goes up, he gives it a few shakes, and takes a deep, deep breath in with it. Holds. Holds.
Then his whole body deflates, his eyes rolling up. He closes his eyes and thinks about how he would talk to the police in Derry. Ha. If that wasn't the biggest fucking joke ever. When he speaks next, his voice is pitched higher than before, that typical 'I'm trying super hard to be polite and endearing' voice that he uses to call his mom 'mommy' when he's real apologetic. He's not even trying to be a suck up. The kid's just scared.)
Um. My name's Eddie Kaspbrak. I'm Sonia Kaspbrak's son and I definitely need to be home for dinner which is like, in an hour. So if anyone can help...I would really appreciate it.
.....God, I really hope this isn't that creep who was taking all those kids.
By the way, he's definitely just been staring at the video for a couple of silent seconds, his jaw working back and forth as he just tried to remind himself that he was actually capable of breathing. This kid......)
My mom's going to fucking kill me.
(The words are whispered under his breath and he would think twice about swearing if he realized how many adults might be watching this video. He was enough of a loser that he could get the whole communication device thing, really, that was fine. But he wasn't quite able to wrap his mind around the full extent of it all.
After a second, he decides fuck it. He needs his inhaler. It goes up, he gives it a few shakes, and takes a deep, deep breath in with it. Holds. Holds.
Then his whole body deflates, his eyes rolling up. He closes his eyes and thinks about how he would talk to the police in Derry. Ha. If that wasn't the biggest fucking joke ever. When he speaks next, his voice is pitched higher than before, that typical 'I'm trying super hard to be polite and endearing' voice that he uses to call his mom 'mommy' when he's real apologetic. He's not even trying to be a suck up. The kid's just scared.)
Um. My name's Eddie Kaspbrak. I'm Sonia Kaspbrak's son and I definitely need to be home for dinner which is like, in an hour. So if anyone can help...I would really appreciate it.
.....God, I really hope this isn't that creep who was taking all those kids.
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It wouldn't be the first time Sans was knocked off kilter by a few simple words, spoken by a child. He's sure it wouldn't be the last, either. But hell if these ones didn't root him to the spot.
When you spent most of your time lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting, noticing, you get used to people not looking too closely at you. He told jokes, he did tricks, all in the service of keeping himself out from under the scrutiny of public opinion. For all but a few especially stubborn individuals, when people thought of Sans there were some notable words that came to mind: apathetic, lazy, irresponsible, a screw-up, a mess, a murderer. They weren't wrong, either.
But, a guy who needs a pal?
That just might be an Eddie original.]
Someone offer you a place to stay yet?
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The question spurs a gut wrenching feeling because all at once Eddie feels bad and relieved. It was a weird position to be in.)
This girl my age offered me a place to stay with her and her dad. I'm not sure yet if that's a solid thing but.
(He smiles a little sadly. Because he would have lived with Sans in a heartbeat. Probably the only adult here so far that he would have- even if maybe his trust was jumping the gun.)
But...um.
(He fusses with the parts of the scarf that weren't so securely wrapped around his arm.)
I don't know if you'd want to hang out with a kid a lot or not, but I'd- it'd be fun. I think. The two of us if we hung out.
(He has no idea how to ask for permission to stay at someone's place. Well, okay, maybe with his best friends, sure, but he isn't sure if it would be normal or okay for him to ask if he could stay the night at Sans every now and then. It would be a small comfort, he realizes, to be able to stay with an adult who didn't put him in a giant bubble.)
no subject
Yeah? That's... that's really good, kid. [A place to rest his head, somewhere with any sense of stability -- it was more than Sans could offer, and no short of what Eddie deserved.] And of course, you know you can come chil with me whenever you want. Actually, that's, uh...
[He holds out a hand, wordlessly asking permission to see Eddie's communicator.]
Lemme fix something for ya real quick, alright?
no subject
Okay, awesome.
(For a second it took Eddie a moment to realize what Sans could be talking about. He understood the communicator, sure, but it would take him a while to get used to always having it on his person.
Once he realizes what Sans is asking for, Eddie scrambles to hand his communicator over.)
What are you fixing?
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These things can be pretty fiddly, so if you ever need anything, all you gotta do is hit that. [He draws his hand back, sliding it back into his pocket.] It'll connect you directly to me.
[And whether that was more for Eddie's benefit or Sans', well...]
And I mean anything, kiddo. Bad dream, good dream, you wanna race some more, you need help with something. Just a click away.
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Okay. (He nods firmly, looking at the device for a second longer before putting it away carefully.)
Do you have a similar thingie on your phone for me? ('Thingie' is fully appropriate. He has zero technology awareness.
Eddie fusses with the scarf and okay, yeah, that really probably was going to be helping him a bit. The kid might not have asthma, but he definitely had bad anxiety.)
...Bad dreams? (His voice is soft and for a split second, he feels a cavern of something awful open up inside of him. It snaps shut just as quickly and he never, ever wants to feel that again, that horror. It isn't the first time he's felt it since being here, but he still doesn't understand it (It, It).
Thanks, Sans. I'll be around for you too. I promise.
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[He watches Eddie fuss, fiddling with the scarf. It's such a small gesture, and yet somehow Sans can't quite describe how it makes him feel.
Though the longer he looks, the less he can focus on his own feelings. There was a storm brewing between his brows, something distant and scary and strange. Something intangible.
Something that made him want to promise right back.
It was an uncomfortable feeling. Sans hated promises, as a rule. They so rarely came through clean, soured almost inevitably by reality. No matter how hard someone tried, nobody could control everything. Nobody could promise anything in good conscious, let alone Sans.
And yet here he was, for the second time in his recent memory, making a promise.]
Yeah. I promise, too.
[There's a beat of pause as he looks from Eddie out back towards the wide expanse of space.]
... You wanna look for shapes in the storm, kid?
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Eddie looks deeply pleased by Sans willingness to promise him. Promises were something of a magic for Eddie, both literally and figuratively. The scar on his palm was nearly gone, but it held something powerful in it. So would this promise. That was the beauty of a child believing there were few things stronger in existence than promises, believing it as much as they believed in God or chicken noodle soup being the cure for common colds.)
Yes! I think I saw a turtle over there- look. (He points his finger out, perfectly content to spend time with Sans just looking for impossible things in the strange loops and angles of a storm.)
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Still, here he was. Turning to follow Eddie's finger, laughing, crouching down slightly with a hand on the kid's shoulders. It felt nice. It felt simple. And even if it was neither of those things at the core, well...
Sometimes playing pretend felt pretty good.]