Harrowing a Feeling

Two versions of Sans sit across from each other at a table in the dark. They are both the darker kind, the versions of someone who was himself so depressed in his own ways, who tried to push themselves in two conflicting directions. They both seek comfort in the distance they feel toward the world, but one is able to laugh about it. The other just mopes all day. Despite how they wear themselves, it gets harder and harder to see the differences between the two in a descriptive sense. It is something the two just... feel. Cheers to that, right?