It was a quiet day in Snowdin. An unusually quiet day to be exact. Papyrus red boots crunched through the crisp new snow that had just fallen down the other night. He was headed back home from a long day of patrolling and all he wanted to do was sit back with some left over spaghetti and watch some MTTV. Earlier that day, he had gotten a telling to from Undyne for letting the human get away, and all he wanted to do was forget about it. She was especially disappointed in him today, but he didn't blame her. He wasn't as great as he made himself seem. He truly was a disappointment. No wonder he hadn't gotten into the Royal Guard yet. He wasn't strong enough to stop a single human for himself, let alone protect anyone from them? Sincerely pathetic.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he got to the front door. Surely, Sans would be inside. He needed to prepare his act. Papyrus sighed to himself has he slapped the typical goofy narcissistic smile on his face and changed his posture from discouraged and depressed to cocky. He mentally prepared himself and shut his eyes as he opened the large wooden door. He opened his eyes, but no one was in the kitchen, or living room for that matter. He let his act fade away as he walked up the stairs and knocked sternly on his brothers doorpreparing his facade again, but no answer.

He sighed to himself 'AT LEAST THERE WILL BE NO PUNS' he thought.

Papyrus dragged himself into the kitchen, bones aching, and opened the door to the fridge. He picked up the container of the left over spaghetti and put it in a bowl to start heating it up in the microwave. That aside, he decided to see what was on TV. Walking into the living room, Pap turned it on. There was some kind of a cooking show on. Mettaton was on and wielding some kind of chainsaw? That was weird, but good enough. The microwave timer beeped and minutes later Papyrus was sitting on the couch, covered by a blanket, shoving spaghetti in his mouth trying desperately to forget what his day consisted of. How he had failed again. He felt something wetdrop down his face and was suprised to see it was a tear.

He got up off the couch and headed into his room, if Sans was to walk in the door he couldnt let him see himself like this. He was getting himself worked up and that was something no one needed from him. He opened the door to his bed room, making sure to shut and lock it right after, and popped himself down raggedly on his red race car bed. He was almost sobbing to himself. He turned his head to face one of the many action figures sitting on the table next to his bed and started talking to it. Not having anyone else to talk to, he let the gurgled words come out, his voice quieter than usual.

"WHY AM I NEVER GOOD ENOUGH?"

"WHY AM I A FAILURE?"

"I JUST LOST THE PERFECT CHANCE TO ACHIEVE MY DREAM, I COULDN'T EVEN CAPTURE A SINGLE HUMAN. WHAT WOULD MY BROTHER THINK OF ME NOW? IM USLESS. TO HIM. TO UNDYNE. TO EVERYONE."

WORTHLESS.

He was getting hysterical now, and the knew what he needed to do. It was an accident how he started it, it really was. He was just walking along in the forrest in one of his moods and slipped on some ice. He landed with his arm pressed between the metal of his armor and a thick dark grey rock and heard a sickening crack followed by a sharp blinding pain. He yelled at the agony he was in but then soon realized, hey wasn't thinking about those depressing thoughts anymore. His mind was clear.

He felt calm, could he even be... happy? Maybe this wasn't so bad after all? But this certainly wasn't normal too feel this way, right? Was is wrong that he was enjoying this pain?

Papyrus soon realized the time and healed himself with his magic, but the knowledge of that accident followed him all the way home.

And he he was again, months later, doing again what he had learned took away the pain. It had almost become a ritual for him now, every few or so nights taking out the hammer that he would use to smash his bones into pieces, then finding the pieces and wielding them back together with his healing magic. Or taking a sturdy blade and carving wedges in his thighbones that would never truly be smooth again. But he craved it like Sans when he had a pun of the tip of his tongue.

Snapping out of his reminiscing, Papyrus stood up from his bed and walked over to his bookshelf. He grabbed the dark green book and opened it, taking out the slender pocket knife that was hidden in the hollow space inside, then going back over to his bed.

He lifted up the cloth of his pant leg. He had to adapt to regular clothing when he had picked up the habit, not wanting anyone to catch on the his act by seeing the scars from the previous cracks and edges in his bones.

He took the pocket knife and opened it, looking between the sharp blade and his thigh.

Sighing, pap kneaded his eyes together in a relieved expression as he made his first cut on the upper part of his bone, watching the tiny part of it crumple up and turn to dust, sitting there letting it sting in delight. It was nice to not have that smile on his face all the time, constantly hiding . One came after another, and soon there were eight. Eight more ridges along what used to be his smooth white bones. He put the knife away back in the book and relaxed for the time being.

It made him feel calmer. It was the only time he could be himself.

He was quickly taken out of his haze when he heard the front door open. Sans was home. He would have to heal the ridges later, he didnt have time now.

He pulled his pant leg back down and went over to the bookshelf to put this knife away. He prepared himself once again slapping is arrogant expression back onto his skull. Papyrus heard a knock on the door and sighed while making his way over to it hearing his brother's voice.

"Hey Papyrus, you in there?" The door handle jiggled

Again. "Papyrus?"

Papyrus unlocked the door.