A Different Circumstance - Withdrawal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	Amid the soaked road and muddied grass just outside of Hometown’s school, there lay a cigarette in a rain puddle, hopelessly soaked beyond the point of kindling. Above it was an infuriated Sam, clenching his fists. “God…. DAMN IT! SHI- *cough cough* shit!” he shouted through gritting teeth. That was his last cigarette, and he had clumsily dropped it just as the fire from his throat made contact with it.

	A powerful headache nearly pounded his brain out of his skull. He had a small cough that he mostly managed to keep down. Sudden cravings made his stomach feel emptier than usual, even after chugging an entire bowl of his mother’s leftover soup earlier that morning. Not only that, but he found decent sleep to be much rarer than usual in the past few days. It was official; withdrawal was coming out in full force to torment Sam as much as possible.

	Now conscious of his eruption of anger, the dragon whipped his head around, searching for any that may have heard him. There was not a soul in sight, save for an occasional passing car. He hadn’t exactly screamed at the top of his lungs, so there was a good chance that he was in the clear of yet another instance of self induced public embarrassment.

	This was odd. Today was the 31st of October right after school had gotten out just half an hour ago, and yet the town felt so lifeless on this particular day. The Halloween decorations that usually covered the entire town in a blanket of cheap, faux horror were scarce as if it were only the first day of the month. As disconcerting as it was, the main thing dominating his mind was to find a way to remove the moisture from his solitary source of nicotine.

	Sam fished the cigarette out of the puddle and carefully placed it into his jacket pocket. Until he could find a hair dryer or something similar, he would let most of the water soak into his jacket’s fabric. A good idea, Sam thought, though there was a risk of the cigarette’s paper deteriorating.

	Cursing himself under his breath, Sam walked eastwards away from the school and began his boring trek back to his near-crack den of a home. Maybe he’d try to take a nap to make up for lost sleep during the night, or he might finally try to see what his mom found so great about weed. Either way, it was going to be a long day.

	Just as Sam passed the Library, he heard the sound of idle car engines and commotion to his right. Poking out from the edge of visibility was a large cargo truck, jostling around as several people walked in and out of the truck’s trailer. The coloring of the truck looked to be that of a moving truck, but he couldn’t be too sure.

	The dragon’s interest was piqued almost instantly at the prospect of something, anything new happening in Hometown. It wasn’t like he was in a rush to get back home, anyway. Besides, he needed something to get his mind off of his headache.

	Sam approached the corner to find several large monsters loading several boxes into the container, along with a seemingly different team removing parts of the sign on the roof of the grocery store. One of the local fire elementals and owner of the store, Grillby, sat on the curb next to an oddly pudgy skeleton Sam didn’t recognize. Grillby may have had no visible face to speak of, but his body language was clearly stressed. He clearly had no intention of working today, seeing as he was wearing casual, yet flame retardant clothes.

	The skeleton, however, seemed completely relaxed and even jovial, sporting a wide, unwavering grin. He wore a blue jacket, black shorts, and white slippers, beyond what Sam considered a casual getup. His eyes betrayed his smile, however, holding a hint of sadness and understanding.

	As Sam watched them talk, he noticed something shiny on the ground. He looked to his right to see a small, black object of unknown material molded into the shape of a horse head, glistening in the sunlight. Sam looked around as if to look for its owner, yet he found nothing that could point him in the right direction. Sam bent down and grabbed it before holding it up close to his eyes.

	The object itself seemed to be immaculate. No scratches, pieces of dirt, stains, nothing. This strange object looked… valuable. If he could pawn it off somewhere, he could eat like a king for at least a week. Sam shoved the black object into his pockets before anyone could have seen it.

	Sam looked around once more. No eyes in the surrounding area were focused anywhere near him, thankfully. His ears turned their attention to the conversation between the skeleton and the fire elemental from before. As far as Sam could tell, the conversation was reaching its conclusion.

	As expected, Grillby slowly pushed himself to his feet and waved goodbye to his boney friend. He entered his car next to the sidewalk, started the engine, and stepped on the gas. As he drove past Sam, he didn’t so much as look at him.

	‘The hell is going on, is Grillby moving out?’ Sam pondered. The skeleton from before suddenly made eye contact with the dragon, and gave a beckoning wave. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, and knowing that the skeleton likely didn’t already have any bias against him, Sam approached the bony monster on the curb.

	“hey there, bud. you live in this town, right?” the skeleton asked.
	“*cough* Yeah, I do. What, *ahem* you a friend of the local fire hazard?” Sam responded with a chuckle.
	“who, Grillby? yeah, me and him are good friends. we’ve known each other for a pretty long time, actually,” the skeleton explained, “but it seems like the one time I see ‘em again, he’s already gone.”
	“Gone?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows, “Wait, really?”
	“yep. here, come sit down with me, and i’ll explain what’s going down,” the skeleton said, patting the spot next to him.

	Sam wasn’t one to get too close to strangers, or even people he knew at all. He stood there silently; he felt much too hesitant to break a habit he’s kept up for years. Seeing as the dragon before him wasn’t taking up his offer, the skeleton rolled his eyes and spoke again.

	“uh… alright, guess you’re not much of a friendly type. i get it. this place does seem pretty tight-knit, and you don’t even know my name,” the skeleton admitted, “so why don’t we get to know each other? the name’s Sans. Sans the skeleton.”
	“...THE skeleton?” Sam sarcastically asked.
	“Oh, i know that there’s a skele-TON of us running around and all, it’s just fun to say,” Sans chuckled.
	“Uh huh… Anyway, is someone else gonna pick up Grillby’s old job? I don’t think this town’s going to survive without a grocery store,” Sam informed him.

	“You’re looking at em, pal,” Sans revealed, “y’see, ol’ Grillby found a better paying job out in the big city, and i’m the only one he trusts to look after the store for him. he’s looking to become a bartender at a HOTspot where a lot of people tend to hang around.”
	“A fire elemental? A bartender? Yeah, alright, one misplaced drink or wet towel on the floor later…” Sam said, failing to hide a hint of concern in his voice.
	“eh, i think he’ll be fine. he’s spent a lot of time WARMING up to the service industry, so i think he’s got enough experience to avoid any… unfortunate mishaps,” Sans assured.
	“Was… was that another pun?” Sam asked, showing signs of growing irritation. There was something about puns that just poked at him like a kid throwing rocks at an alligator.

	“from what i’ve heard, humor isn’t much of a commodity around these parts other than a local human pulling pranks, and not everyone finds those very funny. i think if i brought something to the table that didn’t provoke so much, then i could sell em like HOTcakes for the low low price of a few chuckles,” Sans explained with smiling eyes.
	“Yeah, sorry *cough* pal, I’m not much for paying with that kind of currency,” Sam responded, feeling around the cigarette in his pocket to see how dry it was, only to find that it was still quite unsmokable.

	“heh, alright then. Say, once i get everything settled, maybe you should come around for a FIRE sale i’m planning. like i said earlier, this town seems held together pretty tight, so i think some discounts might get the townsfolk to give me a WARM welcome,” Sans said with a wink.
	“...Same pun again?” Sam said, his tone conveying just how unimpressed he was.
	“sheesh, tough crowd…” Sans responded, sounding slightly dejected. Something told Sam that this skeleton usually gets much different reactions.

	“Alright, well… I think I’m gonna go now. I got shit to do,” Sam lied. He actually had nothing planned at all, but he needed an excuse to end this conversation.
	“alright, but before you go…” Sans said, now standing up.
	“Hm?”
	“want a hotdog?” Sans asked as he rummaged around in one of his pockets, “i’m selling it for the low, low price of one hundred dollars.”
	“Uh… What?” Sam asked, perplexed.

	Sans produced a hotdog from his pocket, encased in a clear, plastic container. It looked untouched, and was surrounded by small ketchup packets. The sight of meat switched on Sam’s instincts, prompting anger at such a ludicrous price.

	“A hundred dollars!? For a HOTDOG!?” Sam nearly yelled.
	“oh, did i say one hundred dollars? i meant one thousand,” Sans said, barely hiding his laughter.
	“...You’re fucking with me, right?” Sam inquired, realizing that this may just be another joke.
	“Yeah, i’m just pulling your leg. It actually costs a hundred thousand,” Sans revealed with a smile in his eyes.
	“...How much do you really want for it? I’m actually kinda hungry…” Sam said with a slightly deflated tone, knowing full well that he didn’t even have a penny.
	“hmm… how about that chess piece in your pocket?” Sans asked, pointing towards said pocket.
	“W-What? How the hell-”
	“i saw you pick it up before you walked over,” Sans explained, shrugging, “but for real, i will really give you this hotdog in exchange for that piece you got.”
	“Uh… Arright, sure, I’ll take it. You got a deal,” Sam said, sporting a thankful yet cocky grin. He subconsciously wanted to wait and sell it at some pawn shop somewhere for a small fortune, but hunger has a way of messing with Sam’s mind.

	Sam pulled the little black chess piece from his pocket and placed it into an awaiting mitt. As Sans handed his product over, Sam nearly snatched the small plastic box and could barely stop himself from ripping it open on the spot. “Uh… Thanks…” Sam said.
“No prob, bud. You probably have places to be, right? I won’t keep ya,” Sans said, but just as we about to turn around and head inside the grocery store, he recalled something Grillby had told him before.

	“Uh, alright. I guess I’ll be going no-” Sam said as he started backing away, but Sans cut him off.

	“one last thing…” Sans started, sounding much more serious than before, “y’seem like a good kid, so i hope i can trust you on this. i dunno much about the people here, but i’ve heard word from Grillby that there’s a thief going around, stealing his food and cigarettes, as well as taking alcohol from the store AND the church down south. you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would ya? are there any suspicious characters i should look out for?” Sans asked, sounding much more serious than before.

	Sam immediately felt a cold sweat beginning to form. “I only know just as much as you do. Sorry,” Sam coldly lied through his teeth… mostly. He regularly stole from Grillby, but he didn’t even know that the church had anything other than that gross non-alcoholic wine they’re legally forced to serve instead of the real thing during service. Although, it did comfort Sam to know that he wasn’t alone in his bad habits.

	“hmm, alright. well, thanks anyway. you should come to the sale in a couple days, i’ll have good prices for ya,” Sans said, now seeming much more relaxed and casual as he was before.
	“I’ll consider it,” Sam responded as he slowly walked away, hotdog in hand, finally freeing the himself from being forced to listen to dumb fire puns.

	Sam turned back around the corner he had travelled in his bout of curiosity and pawed at the cigarette in his pocket again. Still wet and unusable. He didn’t trust himself not to destroy the cigarette if he were to attempt to dry it off by breathing fire on it, so the next best thing was his mother’s old hairdryer, provided that it even worked anymore. ‘Oh well,’ he still had food at least.

	Sam cracked the hotdog’s plastic casing open, and was immediately greeted with a delectable aroma that the dragon happily huffed from the air. He grabbed one of the ketchup packets, cut it open with one of his teeth, and squirted the salty, red substance all over his soon to be devoured log of combined meat.

	Sam raised the hotdog to his mouth, and devoured half of it in a single bite. It was surprisingly good, and even a little spicy. Maybe it was infused with peppers, but it wasn’t like the whelp knew much about what goes into hotdogs. All he knew in the current moment was bliss.

	Sam’s mind returned to his meeting with the new skeleton in town as he chewed, though. Sure, he made a lot of irritating puns, but something just felt oddly comforting about his presence now that Sam thought about it. Hell, he even gave Sam food, which he had just taken a massive bite out of. Maybe, Sam thought, if he stopped wearing his mind on his sleeve so much, he might actually have someone in this town he could legitimately call a friend.

	Or, more ambitiously, an employer. A lightbulb nearly blew itself out from the sheer intensity of its light inside of Sam’s mind, causing him to nearly choke on the mushy mixture of bread, ketchup, and meat in his mouth. As he coughed and hacked with tears forming in his eyes, his train of thought didn’t escape him.

	If he could befriend this skeleton, get used to the puns, and get to know the guy, he just might offer Sam a part-time job. Sure, he hated school work, but that was because of how absolutely pointless it seemed. He didn’t get paid in grocery money or food stamps to study his ass off about things he couldn’t give less of a damn about.

	It was settled. Sam would get that job, and he would get it soon. For once, he might actually have a chance at having a steady source of food that wasn’t so unreliable and spontaneous.

	Sam ate the other half of the hotdog just as he did with the other. He savored the taste as much as he could, but as ravenous as he was, he couldn’t help but swallow it too soon before he truly got to enjoy it. To compensate, Sam sucked out all of the ketchup from the rest of the unused packets, and tossed them back into the small plastic container.

	The container, though… Where would he throw it away? Even if he didn’t care about this world much, he still didn’t just want to throw it on the ground and leave it like some sort of douche. He already hated how dirty his own house was, so why bring that to the streets where he goes to escape it?

	He didn’t want to go and throw it away at the grocery store since he had just talked to Sans only mere minutes ago. He didn’t want to go to school to throw it away there, considering that Sam didn’t consider throwing a piece of trash away to be a good enough reason to return there. The only other place he could think of to dispose of the waste was his own house.

	He certainly didn’t want to go back home just to throw something away, but then it occurred to Sam that he didn’t have much else to do other than to maybe catch a buzz and fall asleep until the next dreadful day reared its ugly head.

============================================================================================================================================

	Sam stood at the foot of the stairs leading to his hovel’s front door, working up the courage to enter his own house. It wasn’t out of fear of the house itself or its questionable structural integrity, or even his deadbeat pothead of a mother he was afraid of. In fact, it wasn’t fear at all. Sam just felt as if he didn’t have enough emotional willpower to deal with all of the aforementioned things all at once.

	Yet, he was here for a reason. He firmly held the hotdog container within his grasp to the point where his claws made dents in the plastic. His reason for coming back home so soon, however, felt oddly contrived and pointless to him.

	Regardless, Sam took one step upwar-*CRACK*

	“FUCK!”

	The moldy wood beneath Sam’s foot finally caved in to the pressure, sending his leg into the dark abyss below the stairs where unknown things were left to fester in the dark. It was several moments before Sam realized that his eyes were clenched tight, prompting him to open them and take a look at where his foot had gone.

	Sam’s eyes widened. There was an extremely sharp, worryingly moist, rusty nail mere inches away from his now exposed shin. He just narrowly avoided tetanus, and he was only trying to walk up his house’s stairs.

	Sam carefully guided his leg out of the splintered deathtrap he found himself in and nearly fell over backwards trying to get his bearings. Now Sam had a real reason for going inside. Sooner or later, his mother would need to hear about the stairs being fragile and dangerous, not to mention heavily damaged.

	The dragon whelp reached up and opened the front door from ground level and climbed through the doorway. Sam recoiled at having his face so close to the floor as he pulled himself to his feet. He never truly realized how filthy his floors were until now. The floor was covered in uncountable levels of small stains, tiny shards of broken glass, bits of hair, and a musky stench that made his nostrils feel scratchy. A torrent of memories involving the ‘5 second rule’ suddenly hit Sam like a truck, filling him with disgust.

	Surprise and apprehension immediately replaced his revulsion at the sight of his mother staring at him. She stood to the right of the couch with her arms crossed, wobbling and struggling to keep her balance. The aftermath of a whiskey bottle being harshly thrown at the wall lay near the TV that left a crack and a massive brown stain on the already filthy wall and a pile of wet glass on the floor.

	Cans of beer were strewn about, with the massive holes in the sides being evidence of Sam’s mother shotgunning every last one to get drunk as quickly as possible, a half empty wine glass sitting neatly on the table in front of the TV next to a completely empty wine bottle, and a mason jar of what Sam liked to call ‘fire water’ had a third of its contents depleted.

	Sam’s mother had found Sam’s prized alcohol stash and pilfered every last drop, save for the mason jar. Sam looked at the intoxicated dragon before him, completely dumbfounded yet increasingly angry and uneasy. She had stolen what he considered his, leaving him angry, but what made him uneasy was the pure infuriation and hatred within her glare that threatened to pierce right through his soul.

	Something else was wrong, and she placed every single ounce of blame onto her son for it. Her nostrils flared in tune with her heavy and deep breathing, and her fingers were tense as if they yearned to squeeze the life out of anything they could grasp. The bridge of her snout twitched with fury and anticipation.

	What was truly bewildering was what Sam saw just past his mother’s face. His door leaned away from its frame by a thread, threatening to completely fall off of its hinges. Within his room itself, there were several piles of clothing scattered along the floor, along with his dresser’s drawers pulled out and placed on his bed.

	Yet, through the deafening silence between the two dragons, it was clear that Sam was supposed to say something first. The whelp knew something would need to be said eventually, leading him to choose the first thing on his mind. “The stairs outside are broken,” Sam said, his pubescent voice nearly cracking.

	“Mmm hmm…” his mother grunted, now disapprovingly tapping a finger on her arm, “just like a lot of thiinnnggsss…”
	“...You drank all my booze,” Sam coldly stated as a scowl began to take shape on his face.
	“*It wasn’t yours,” Sam’s mother slurred, slowly shaking her head.
	“*cough* Oh, so it was YOURS, then?” Sam asked with a growing hint of anger in his voice.
	“My house, my booze…” she replied smugly, yet angrily. Her arms crossed more tightly together.
	“It’s not your booze,” Sam declared, “and you know you’re not supposed to drink. Remember what happened with Vict-?”
	“THA-a-AT’S not… the point…” she interrupted through a crack in her voice, “you’re not only a booze thief…”

	“...What?” Sam asked. Sam was a thief of alcohol for sure, but he didn’t remember stealing much else recently.
	“Our- MY money… Where is it!?” she snarled, now angrily scrunching her snout.
	“The fuck are you talking abo- you know what? You’re drunk off your ass,” Sam said, throwing his arms up, “I’ll talk to you when you’re sober.”

	Sam turned on his heel and tossed the plastic hotdog casing towards a small trash can in the kitchen, not caring if he hit his target or not. The dragon whelp pushed the door open to leave, but was suddenly snatched by the shoulder and thrown back inside. Sam crashed to the flattened carpet floor with a dull, painful thud.

	“Augh, what the fuck!” Sam yelled as he attempted to get back up, but he was met with a foot stomping him back down to the ground and forcing a pained wheeze out of his chest. He looked up to his mother holding the hotdog casing within her claws. The hatred in her eyes visibly grew stronger as she crushed the casing within her cold grip.

	“Where the FUCK did you ge-?” she hissed, but a fist to the side of her knee caught her off guard and sent her spiraling towards the floor. Sam scrambled to his feet and struggled to catch his breath. He nearly bolted for the door, but stopped dead in his tracks when his mother blocked his path as she too stood back up.

	“Sssssaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmm!” she hoarsely screamed.
	“Get the hell away from me!” Sam snarled. He slowly backed away, baring his teeth.

	Sam’s mother stood back up, baring her unwashed teeth and claws back at her son. The whelp himself stood his ground, cautiously gazing at the danger in front of him but attempting to seem strong. She dropped the destroyed plastic to the floor with a clatter as she seemingly prepared to charge at a moment’s notice.

	Sam did his best to keep a cool head, yet felt as if he was failing. He felt no fear for a monster that he knew didn’t have the balls to *really* hurt him. Rather, it was anger. He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, and he grit his yellow teeth. The amount of accumulated poison he wanted to vocally spew at this abomination of a person at this very instant could kill any living thing within a five mile radius.

	“Don’t you DARE touch your mother that way!” she snarled, ejecting small, hot globs of saliva towards the floor beneath her. The heat rising from her throat turned her rancid spit into steam that filled the immediate area with a horrid stench.
	“I was defending myself against a violent cunt!” Sam spewed back without even thinking of the consequences. The heat within his own throat was there, but it had yet to reach his mouth.

	“You just fucking punched me you stupid asshole!” she screeched, clenching her eyes tight in an attempt to shield her throat from being shredded by the sheer force she put behind her voice.
	“And YOU fucking stomped on me,” Sam yelled back as he continued to stand his ground, “and I wanna know what the fuck I did to deserve that shit! What the fuck is your problem!?”
	“What is my problem? What is my fucking problem!?” she bellowed in response with a slight slur, “It’s YOU, you stupid, worthless sack of shit!”
	“What the fuck did I even do!?” Sam snapped, angrily waving his arms with his words.

	Sam’s mother suddenly calmed her body language and snarled expression, replacing it with a disingenuous grin. She laughed loudly, rocking her head back and covering her eyes with one hand. This sudden change was betrayed by her other hand still twisted and strained in intense fury, looking ready to lacerate anything within its path.

	Sam steeled himself and didn’t so much as drop his shoulders to lower his guard, though his withdrawal made it difficult to hold back a torrent of coughs and wheezes. His body gradually grew tired from his muscles being so tense for as long as they have been, but he kept himself physically ready. His eyes focused on her angry hand as if it were about to strike.

	“You really… *really* wanna know… what you did!?” she growled as she reinstated eye contact with her son, “You... ruined… everything…”
	“...What?” Sam asked, cocking his head to the side.
	“It’s all your fault that we have no money… No food… Yooouuuuuuu….. You eat all of our food you fucking hole!” she growled.
	“I eat stale, dry ass cereal and cold soup because you can't get a fucking job!” Sam screamed, infuriated his mother’s ironic accusations.
	“I-”
	“YOU waste our money on pot and expensive snack shit! YOU could be working and, I dunno, cooking for us or at least picking something up from the diner or something. Or, maybe, just maybe, just ordering a goddamn pizza!” Sam said as he pointed an accusatory claw at his mother.
	“We don’t have the money for pizza you stupid fuck!” she retorted, taking an aggressive step towards Sam.
Sam flinched, but he kept going. “You’re not even fucking listening! We don’t have money because you don’t HAVE A FUCKING JO-”

*SMACK!*

	Sam’s mother struck him across the face with enough force to send him reeling and holding his face. Sam let out an aggravated scream and clenched his fists to the point that his knuckles were white. He looked at her with a mix of confusion and burning hatred.

	“Get out of my house!” she screamed, furiously pointing towards the ajar front door.
	Sam fought back the urge to physically retaliate, continuing to stand his ground. “You won’t get a job, you constantly insult me and make me feel like shit, you blame me for what is YOUR fault, you waste our money, and you slap me when I say something that hurts your fra-!” Another swing came towards Sam’s face, but he dipped his upper body away from the blow and took a step back.

	“Get out!” she screamed, taking another missed swing at Sam.
	“And you slap me when I say something that hurts your fragile ego!” he finished.
	“You’re a stupid piece of shit that I should have wrangled out with a fucking coat hanger… Nobody wants me! Nobody in this HICK, PIECE OF SHIT town wants me because of you!” she yelled, avoiding what Sam had accused her of.

	“Nobody gives a shit about me you dumb cunt! You won’t even go outside unless you absolutely have to and you smell like shit! Take a goddamn shower and go outside and you might just find another dick to leech off of!”
	“I should have FUCKING ABORTED Y- *cough cough cough*” she screeched before forcing herself into a painful coughing fit.
	“Why didn’t you? Would have saved me a lot of trouble!” Sam retorted, slamming his palm against his chest.
	“I-..... *cough* get out… get out!” she repeated, continuing to point at the door.
	“I’m frankly surprised that you haven’t at least abandoned me at some adoption center. If you hate me so fucking much, then why am I even here? Can you tell me that, you worthless cunt?”
	“Get the fuck out of my house… NOW… or I might just accidentally murder you...” she hissed.

	Sam angrily sighed and groaned, walked over to his mason jar of ‘fire water’. He grabbed it and walked towards his room, ignoring his mother who was now asking him where he thought he was going. Sam entered his room and stripped one of his pillows of its case and used it to hold his mason jar.

	The fed-up whelp snatched a blanket and his other pillow and proceeded back towards the living room. As he walked past his mother, he felt a harsh shove from the right, nearly toppling him over. “FUCK YOU!” Sam screamed as loud as he could as he walked out into the steps.

	In his anger, Sam nearly stepped back into the hole he had accidentally created earlier but caught himself before he could suffer any poorly timed injuries. The resentful dragon made it to the driveway and rolled his blanket into a ball for easier carrying. He clenched the pillow case that held his alcohol tight while he held his pillow between his arm and his waist.

	“Oh, and one more thing! I don’t even have a fucking tail because I don’t eat enough! I am MAL-FUCKING-NOURISHED because you can’t even feed your own son!” he yelled back before stomping away from his decrepit hovel.

	“I’m not coming back you useless fucking cunt… Useless fucking cunt...” he whispered under his breath. He needed somewhere to sleep tonight, and had a destination just south of the church in mind. Nobody went there for any reason, and that old bunker or whatever it was had been taken over by overgrowth, so it wasn’t like anybody cared about it. Sam found it strange how he could feel pity for something inanimate.




============================================================================================================================================

	Sam wrapped his blanket around himself and gently lay his head onto his pillow. The sky had turned to a grayish dark blue, and the sound of insects broadcasting their mating calls had just begun to signify the end of another day. The low hum emanating from the red doors to the dragon’s right provided ample white noise for lulling him to sleep.

	The mason jar lay next to his head, now with half of its contents depleted. Sam smacked his lips in an attempt to feel the subtle fruity aftertaste of his beverage as he let the alcohol’s burn pool in his stomach. He held his cigarette in one of his hands, considering whether or not to light it up.

	He could smoke it now, but he might end up needing it to soothe his nerves later. He could smoke it tomorrow, but Toriel might smell it on him and finally do something about his private habits that he mainly carried out away from school grounds and which he believed was absolutely none of her business. Then again, tomorrow could be stressful, considering that he had resigned himself to homelessness earlier that day.

	Only now did Sam consider the things he had said and the decisions he had made. He knew his words were vile and awful, but he meant every single word. It had been building up for quite some time, and seeing his drunken mother fling accusation after accusation at him was the sledgehammer that broke the camel’s back.

	His biggest regret however, was making himself completely unwelcome back to his house, even promising himself that he would never return. It was a filthy place that was falling apart by the minute, but it was still a roof over his head that he no longer had. From now on, if it rained, he would get wet and there would be little he could do about it.

	Sam briefly considered the possibility of someone being sent to look for him, but he swiftly shot it down. Besides, he was just a stupid asshole that did nothing but make his mother’s life hell, right? Why would she put in a sliver of effort to get him back? As far as Sam was concerned, there was no way she cared enough.

	Sam placed his cigarette on top of the mason jar and snuggled up tight. The ground beneath him was bumpy and extremely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t much worse than his old bed. He closed his eyes and thought about dropping an anvil over Berdly’s head just as he left his house for school. It was a funny thought that got his mind off of his current predicament and brought him some comfort.

	Sam didn’t even register the moment he fell asleep.




============================================================================================================================================

	The sound of birds chirping woke the purple dragon from his slumber. The moment he took a breath, Sam caught himself in a coughing fit. This one proved worse than usual, nearly making Sam puke on his sheets from the sheer intensity of his hacking and choking.

	Sam barely recovered as he desperately gulped down as much air as he could while pounding his chest. The dragon stood to his feet and brushed away bits of grass and dead leaves out of his hair to the best of his ability. Surprisingly, Sam didn’t feel hungover as he had expected, although he was quite thirsty.

	The whelp twisted his back, cracked his knuckles, and cracked his neck from side to side to jumpstart his body’s wake-up process. He walked around the overgrown double doors of the abandoned bunker and headed north. Just as he made it to the church, he saw Ms. Toriel’s red van passing by and heading eastwards. “Urgh… Looks like I still got time for Ms. Alphys’s spineless funhouse…” he grumbled as he began to follow the van’s path.

	He checked to see if his cigarette was still too wet to be lit, and found it just dry enough to smoke. “Finally...” he thought. He planned to smoke it right before class, but he needed water from the fountain first.

	After waiting a few moments for Kris and Toriel to finish their routine, Sam pushed the doors open and headed straight for the water fountain. He slammed his palm against the button on the fountain and quenched his thirst. As he did so, he retrieved his cigarette in preparation to smoke it outside.

	Sam brought his head back up and attempted to place the cigarette in his mouth, but his fingers slipped, sending it into the small puddle of water that had still yet to make it all the way down the drain. The dragon’s eyes widened as he suppressed an infuriated roar at his continued misfortune.

	The whelp plucked his cigarette from the fountain and gently tried to dry it on his jacket. Sam walked back outside, making sure that nobody was looking. Seeing that the coast was clear, Sam blew a small puff of fire onto the tip of the cigarette, but the moisture prevented it from lighting.

	“Come on, come oooonnnnnn…..!” he whined. Sam breathed fire onto the now burnt tip again, and yet it still refused to light. “God damn it…” he mumbled as he placed it back into his pocket, “Really fucking figures…”

	The tall purple monster bumbled back into the halls of the school and took a left turn towards his classroom. Just beyond the door, Sam could hear a conversation happening between Alphys, Berdly, and Noelle. Sam formulated a simple plan to get in, sit down, and not attract too much attention.

	Sam twisted the knob and gave it a shove, yet he was still in a stage in his life where he did not truly realize his own strength, which caused the door to fly open and slam against the wall. An uncomfortable silence replaced the chatter in the room. The dragon kept a blank face, but he was internally embarrassed and nervous as he realized that all eyes were on him. “H-... Hi Sam…” Alphys squeaked.

	Sam scanned the room to see everyone either intimidated, or unphased in Catti and Temmie’s case. Kris, who was standing next to Noelle’s desk, kept her usual blank expression with no hint of emotion. “...Am I late?” he asked.

	“Ohh, n-no! You’re fine! W-We were just… uh… Ch-choosing partners for the next group project, and… Umm… Sam, you’re with Kris!” Alphys anxiously sputtered.
	“......Alright…” Sam replied.
	“...” Alphys put on her best attempt at a confident smile, only to fail miserably and look absolutely terrified instead. Sam felt oddly insulted.
	“...*cough*...”
	“N-Now that everyone’s here, I’ll write the next assignment!” Alphys declared, now much more confidently.

	The pudgy yellow lizard snatched the chalk off of the desk and began to write down the assignments for the day, as well as the details of the group project. Sam slowly walked towards the space in between Alphys and Temmie’s desks, but his elbow accidentally knocked something over in the process. Sam looked to his right to see a coffee cup knocked over, as well as all of its contents spilled all over the desk.

	“Shit!” Sam exclaimed. He took a step back and saw Alphys, looking at his with a startled yet disappointed expression. Sam looked to the class again to see everyone else blankly staring at him. “...Uh…”
	“Oh, t-that’s okay! We have paper towels for that… I think… Umm…” Alphys sputtered.
	“Hey, there might be a roll in the supply closet…” Noelle chimed in, her crossed arms resting on the desk, “Miss Alphys, why don’t Sam and I-”
	“G-Good idea, Noelle! S-Sam, since you came in last… Why don’t you go get it for me…?” Alphys meekly asked. Sam noticed Noelle’s expression immediately begin to sour.
	“...Uh huh…” Sam replied as he turned around and walked back out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him with much less force than when he opened it.

	“...Does that reindeer like me...?” Sam asked himself under his breath. The dragon looked back at the door as he thought about how Noelle acted mere moments prior. He had seen her looking at him before, and he had his suspicions, but this confirmed there was some interest towards him. At this realization, Sam felt an odd weight in his chest he couldn’t quite describe.

	He barely knew her at all and had scarcely exchanged words with her since the fifth grade, but the mere thought of a girl having any interest in him at all made him feel weird, but not necessarily in a bad way. Maybe, he thought, he could talk to her after class and… ‘catch up’. His thoughts were interrupted by a severe itch in his throat coming back to haunt him.

	“That reminds me…” he said under his breath, pulling out his cigarette again and checking the moisture. It surprisingly felt dry enough to light at this point, prompting the dragon to head towards the school’s doors. He could easily make an excuse about the paper towels being hard to find if he took too long.

	Sam pushed the double doors open and stepped back outside as he readied the cigarette in his hand. Sam blew a puff of fire at the tip, properly lighting it this time around. “Yes!” he cheered as he popped it between his lips and took a long, satisfying drag.

	Sam sighed as he blew the smoke out of his mouth and nostrils. “Now *that’s* what I needed…” he happily hissed. He took another drag and exhaled again. The chemicals washed over his brain and soothed his nerves. He took one long, final drag and snuffed the cigarette against the wall.

	Sam turned around as he stuffed the cigarette back into his pocket, but his exhale was interrupted with a startled gasp and a string of coughs at the sight of Kris staring at him from the halls. The dragon suddenly felt his world fall completely still. He was already on bad terms with the school administration, so Kris reporting his smoking habits on school grounds could land him in more trouble than he was ready to deal with, leaving him unsure of what to do.

	What made him truly nervous and angry at the same time was that he could barely read Kris’s apathetic face. There was no telling what was going through her head at this very moment, leaving Sam to come up with a reaction to her mere presence rather than any body language or words. The whelp furrowed his brow and pushed the doors open one last time as he stepped back inside.

	‘Today is gonna be real fuckin’ interesting…’ he thought as he approached the human in the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
























**********************************************************************************************************************************************

	Sans pulled out what he thought was the black knight piece he had exchanged yesterday. “that was too close,” Sans thought, now looking at a fractured, white pawn in his mittened hand, “that crazy old weirdo needs to stop leaving his junk around… i can’t just keep sweeping his messes under the rug like this forever...”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

Previous Chapter, A Slow Morning: https://pastebin.com/3e5VGC53
Next chapter, Darkness: https://pastebin.com/TzQAmmfX