The Smell of Old Books (Sans/Reader)

Be Reasonable

(tw for insultive slurs and gun mentions)

Monday morning was bitter cold, a telltale sign that fall was ending soon.

You breathed out a sigh, watching the mist show up in the air as you did so. Days like these you desperately wished that you had a car, even though you knew that you couldn't even squeeze a bagel into your budget these days. (No more extravagant coffee dates with Papyrus anymore...) It'd be warm, you could listen to music as loudly as you wanted, and getting home would be a lot easier. Oh god. Why didn't you have a car?

It wasn't like you didn't know how to drive, or even that you didn't like driving. There was a parking lot right by the corner of the store so it wasn't like it was an inconvenience to get there. It was more of an inconvenience to use the subway.

Still. It sucked.

Your shoes slapped against the pavement, creating a satisfying sound. Your scarf was warmly tucked underneath your chin, and you smiled softly at the memories from it. Mom had given it to you years ago, right when you graduated. If you thought hard enough, you could still remember the smell of her perfume.

However cold it was, it wasn't gloomy. The morning sun was just beginning to rise and it illuminated the buildings around you with a soft, hazy light. The "indie" shopping district was quiet, just barely waking up from the weekend. Shop owners entered their respective stores and chit chatted amongst themselves.

You remembered being jealous of their interactions, not knowing many of them yourself. You remembered being jealous of a lot of things, socially wise.

While you weren't paying attention, someone poked you softly on the shoulder. You jumped from the surprise contact and turned around.

A girl stood there, around the same height as you. She had big, brown eyes with wild and long blonde hair. She smiled softly at you, seeming to be nervous.

"Hey," her voice was soft, "I'm sorry, did I scare you?"

You shook your head, "No, you're fine."

She laughed softly, "Alright, alright - that's good, actually. I got worried there, considering how high you jumped."

"Oh, goodness," you laughed, "It's okay."

"Anyways," she continued on, "My name is Vivian, my mother owns the boutique right next to your bookstore. You're _____, right?"

You nodded and smiled, "I am, it's nice to meet you."

"My mom thinks I need to interact more, yadda yadda," She smiled wide, "I love her, but I'm much more content with spending my time on the internet."

"Honestly, I'm the same way," you laughed along with her.

"But," Vivian paused, "I agree with her. I've heard a little about you from my mom, and you seem chill. Do you maybe, uhm, wanna go grab something to eat one day?"

You were surprised and easily taken aback from her words, taking a few seconds to respond or even really comprehend what just happened.

She moved around nervously, playing with her hands, "I mean, if you'd like to. Don't wanna go forcing myself upon random strangers."

You shook your head, "No, no. I'd love to, Vivian."

Her smile grew wide, "Oh, really? Oh my god, I was so worried asking you! I've got this really bad problem with being super anxious, so I have a hard time doing stuff like this! Ah, damn, I'm really happy I did though!"

"If you want to," you felt unsure of what to say or do, but kept on talking, "We can maybe, uhm..."

Vivian seemed to have it all covered, "If you're free, then let's go do something! If you want to and, uhm, I don't know. I feel awkward."
You stifled a laugh and smiled, "I know what you're saying, sometimes too much."