cover our eyes, it's a calming way to blame and hide the truth

[trombones]

At first, Alphys said that she needed his help with "something". That probably should should have been in the first clue. By the time Sans got there, had just dumped the second of a familiar pair of legs in a cart (really, they're heavy). She sputtered into a nonsense explanation, how "something" was busted, how she really needed a second pair of sockets on "something", and how "something" might be in a bad mood now that he can't chase her.

Did she say "he"? "Something". She meant "something".

And before Sans could open his mouth, he felt an uncermonious shove of a clawed hand behind them both. He stumbled into the adjacent room. Alphys wheeled the cart away, and the skeleton whirled around just as steel doors slid shut with a boom behind him.

He stares down the metal He looked over his shoulder at "something".

...

Nope. Hell nope. He turns back around.

"Alphys. Come on. Open the door."

No answer. Sans turns back around. Another couple awkward seconds pass. Finally, the monster shrugs his arms up in the air.

"Welp. If this is a practical joke, tells Alf she needs practice. See ya."

...

...

...

It takes a second to realize he's still standing there. As in, not going anywhere. As in, not teleporting. He looks down. His SOUL is green. Not the healing green, the other green. Oh.

"Oh."

He remembers the hand that pushed him a second ago. He can already hear her voice in his head.

NGAHHHHHH!!! FINALLY! MAN, why didn't I think of this sooner?! Hey, Papyrus! Check out what I can do to your brother!!

Comments

[ex_mettacrusher33]

Ugh, much better. Mettaton flexes his fingers and stretches the metal of his arms; they're perfect, as to be expected. It's a joy to have them.

"...in a moment." He wanted his arms for a reason.

Running away has always been an easy thing for Mettaton. It's been easy ever since he was Sonatablook. It's always been what everyone pin-points as his worst flaw. If he doesn't like the outcome of something, he ignores it. He avoids the truth. He pretends it never happened.

...but holding on... No one ever said how much more holding on hurt. Running away only hurt when you were called out on it - when you remembered yourself. Holding on hurt every moment of every day.

He sighs to himself as he pulls the glove off his right hand. Gingerly, almost with a sort of reverence, Mettaton slides two, gaudy rings off his ring and middle fingers.

"..."

The rings stay in his palm for a moment before he turns them over to Sans.

"I know you said you hadn't considered anything with the queen, but..." He's trying to smile. It's bittersweet. "She'll like these."

[trombones]

"Wh..."

Oh.

Sans blinks and looks down. He stares at Mettaton's hand for what feels like a good long while. Then he closes his eyes and bows his head slightly. He takes the rings.

"... She would. Thanks. We're..." He catches himself. Right. Not the time. That's how he got into half this mess in the first place. "Sorry. I'll tell you about it some other time, if you want to."

His sockets open(????) and he turns the ring over in his hands. With almost the same care, more out of respect for the monster in front of him than anything, he pockets the rings.

"... Hey." He looks back up, and nods towards the door. "I'm not trying to hook you guys back up or anything, but... I wasn't lying before. Papyrus still wants to be friends. He'd love to see you."

Pause.

"Only if you wanna, though."

Meaning that Sans won't push it. He just wants Mettaton to know the door's still open. You know. Metaphorically.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

There's that face again: pain and regret and betrayal and loneliness and want all wrapped up in a little succinct bow. Of course Papyrus still wants to be friends. Of course he misses him. Of course he'd welcome him back, as a friend, with open arms. That's just how Papyrus always is.

He's perfect. He's sweet and charming and silly and perfect.

Mettaton knows he's running away, but who would ever blame him? You can't just be friends with someone you shared your SOUL with. Not after daydreaming about picket fences and 3-hour long, operatic wedding vows. Not after you picked out engagement rings.

"I'm sure that would be lovely." Meaning 'no.'

Consider the door closed. The metaphorical one. The real one...

Mettaton flicks his wrist and a small, box-version of himself summons into the air over by the camera. Its tiny hand smacks away Sans' jacket before it disappears.

"We're fine now, darling. You can let us out."

[trombones]

Ah. Sans is quiet yet again. Then he nods slowly, then turns around to pick his jacket up off the floor.

"Alright. Your choice. But the offer's still on the table if you ever change your mind."

Meaning Papyrus will probably leave the door unlocked, at least. So will Sans, but the fact still stood. It wasn't his decision to make.

After Mettaton speaks up, there's a short silence on the other end. Sans quirks a browbone.

"What, you wanted to watch us hug it out?"

Papyrus is the first to speak. "SORT OF--"

"W-We just thought!! You'd be in there! For a few more hours... give or take."

"Give or take, yeah," Sans snorts, glancing at Mettaton. "We might've taken our damn time all the time."

Not even a second later, his phone buzzes. He blinks and takes it out. It's Toriel. Apparently, Frisk was there.

"... Darn time."

It's not like the kid hasn't heard them all curse before. But he had a feeling the door would be closed a lot longer if he didn't "correct" himself. That and, well, Toriel apparently just got there. She hadn't been around to hear all their earlier expletives.