Oh yes. What a tragedy it is, being unable to hate each other.
[It's a joke... mostly. If Mettaton could hate Sans, could bring himself to twist everything they've shared each other into a weapon that he could pierce his own soul with, it would make eventually giving him up easy.
But perhaps trying to do it in all one go is part of the problem? It doesn't work as effectively as it should. So one step at a time. The first step being...]
Mmhm! A firework. Bright, beautiful and blinding.
[Sans smiles up at him and Mettaton's own smile turns gentle in nature as it still clings to its wistfulness. Once again there's this small tug on his soul, a gentle desire to reach forward and connect. He's not sure how, really, or where, but even something as simple as holding Sans's hand would suffice.
But... Mettaton isn't the type for this sort of thing, is he? He's not supposed to be. He never can be. If there is one thing he understood before his mirror began to help him, it's that he's a star. He can't belong to one person. And if there is one thing that the entire Bucky debacle taught him, it's that he can't handle it. He can't handle the pain of rejection again, on any scale.
He doesn't exactly know how he loves Sans. He only knows that he does on some level. Wherever it rests when it is done flipping back and forth or whether it will marinate in both sides, he means a lot to him.
Quietly, gently, with the smallest of pains that would grow if he let it, he sets aside a small kernel of something that had been brewing inside him. It's time to let go. His heart isn't breaking and Mettaton's isn't making a sound.]
I do too. It's a bit sad but in the end it's honest. There's nothing wrong with a simple chance.
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[It's a joke... mostly. If Mettaton could hate Sans, could bring himself to twist everything they've shared each other into a weapon that he could pierce his own soul with, it would make eventually giving him up easy.
But perhaps trying to do it in all one go is part of the problem? It doesn't work as effectively as it should. So one step at a time. The first step being...]
Mmhm! A firework. Bright, beautiful and blinding.
[Sans smiles up at him and Mettaton's own smile turns gentle in nature as it still clings to its wistfulness. Once again there's this small tug on his soul, a gentle desire to reach forward and connect. He's not sure how, really, or where, but even something as simple as holding Sans's hand would suffice.
But... Mettaton isn't the type for this sort of thing, is he? He's not supposed to be. He never can be. If there is one thing he understood before his mirror began to help him, it's that he's a star. He can't belong to one person. And if there is one thing that the entire Bucky debacle taught him, it's that he can't handle it. He can't handle the pain of rejection again, on any scale.
He doesn't exactly know how he loves Sans. He only knows that he does on some level. Wherever it rests when it is done flipping back and forth or whether it will marinate in both sides, he means a lot to him.
Quietly, gently, with the smallest of pains that would grow if he let it, he sets aside a small kernel of something that had been brewing inside him. It's time to let go. His heart isn't breaking and Mettaton's isn't making a sound.]
I do too. It's a bit sad but in the end it's honest. There's nothing wrong with a simple chance.
[But he knows it's a chance he can never have.]