entrancelogs | Don't cross the river if you can't swim the tide

Entry tags:

Don't cross the river if you can't swim the tide

Who: Mettaton, some closed starters, and YOU!
Where: All around the mansion
When: Throughout the event
Rating: PG-13 unless something happens, upon which this will be changed
Summary: Mettaton is in the no-air-no-problem club, buuut those RESETs are giving him a bit of a run for his money. All well! There’s places to go and things to do, and he’s not gonna let a little water and time shenanigans stop him. …yeah…
The Story:

A.

[It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s…. what the hell is that. A rectangular submarine??? If you’re attempting to swim through the halls, have your door open to stare at the water, or if there is a window in your room to the hallway, you’ll catch sight of this robot in a different form propelling himself through the water. Maybe he’s carrying food in a water-tight container. Maybe he’s transporting someone’s pets or other things that need to be moved. Maybe he’s coming to “save” you! (Save being the operative word, depending on if you actually want to see him… and if he’ll be helpful or not.)

Either way, he’s here now. Or passing by. Wanna say hi?]

B.

Swimming through the mansion can be a bit tiring. Especially with the magic reinforcement that is partially behind his water-proofing, is draining his charge pretty quickly. So here he is, chilling out in some random empty room. Don’t worry, he doesn’t breathe; no air is being lost. Maybe he stumbled into your room or maybe you’re stumbling into whatever room he is relaxing in. Either way, here is a dripping wet robot at your disposal. ;)

C.

[Listen. A lot can happen in 5 minutes, right? I bet even MORE can happen if you repeat the same 5 minutes over and over and over and over and over….

Our lovely robot is stuck in a rather persistent RESET that is determined to make Mettaton repeat the last 5 minutes of his life. Why not keep him company and/or get trapped in it yourself! The world is your resetting oyster now that the water has leaked out of the mansion.]

D.
Wild card! Got an idea for your character and Mettaton? Throw it up here and we can go, ha, wild!

((ooc: while one of these prompts is specific for the resets, any prompt can have them involved if you want! Either indicate it in your subject or put it in your description and we can play around with it!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mettaton chuckles a little.

"Yes, you are a bit of a nerd, but there must have been some catalyst to you learning these things. I doubt being a sentry lent itself for the natural developments of these talents."

It's suspicious, all around, but it's also keeping the awkward silence that threatens to hang over them both at bay.

Sans did seem to have such an exuberant desire to learn back in Hogwarts. Perhaps this is related to that? But, such a thing must be connected to something. Binary and morse code aren't exactly entry level scientific things.

Sans drapes his hands in his lap, not looking at Mettaton. He listens for any indication that 4 might change his mind and come creeping out from under the bed. Maybe he'll want to eat the rabbit and Sans can catch him in the act?

He honestly would not mind some kind of attempted bunny-murder fiasco if it meant a chance to escape this room. Mettaton is doing exactly what Mettaton always does, which is sticking his metal nose into people's business. Namely Sans's business.

"being a sentry's pretty boring work. lotta downtime to read interesting books and such."

It's as good an excuse as any. Mettaton might even believe it. What the hell else is he supposed to say? That he had to learn all sorts of code and shorthand while working with Gaster and the rest of them? How everything was so secret and Gaster was so damn paranoid that things usually ended up double-encoded? Damn annoying, especially since Sans didn't know the first thing about computer programming.

It's a good answer. Honest, reasonable; why would he have any reason to question it? But question it he does- it's just a little too perfect for a skeleton like Sans, who deals in plenty of secrets.

Idly he wonders if this knowledge of his has to deal with whoever messed with his magic.

"And here I thought you spent all of that time working on your comedy routine."

There's no need to push, none at all. Even if Sans has stopped trying to actively get 4, clearly he's just playing the waiting game. He can do that too.

"Since you like learning so much, did you ever pursue any academics in school? Or did you choose a different path?"

This question is less idle chitchat and more curiosity. He never went to school, having been just a humble ghost on a snail farm. The story of Alphys building him was very convenient to use to hide his lack of schooling, but it never took away his wonder at what going to school was like. From the times he had asked Alphys, it had always sound very hard. And from his brief stint in Hogwarts, he was inclined to agree.

He'd thought that might be enough to end it, but apparently not. He should have known. Mettaton is a lot like Papyrus--can't seem to abide silence. Always has to fill the quiet.

Sans really just wants to curl up and take a nap, preferably right here on the floor. Knowing 4, the cat will probably be tucked into his pocket by the time he wakes up, all forgiven.

"well, that too."

That was mostly during his long breaks, though. Telling puns to the patrons at Grillby's, practicing knock-knock jokes on the Ruins door, that sorta thing.

He laces his fingerbones together as Mettaton just keeps asking questions.

"you know, i'm kinda worn out. been teleporting people and animals all over. think i might just take a nap till 4 decides to deign us with his presence."

It's a bit of a rude way to cut off conversation, but Mettaton can take a hint.

"Very well. I wouldn't want to keep you from your beauty rest."

As much as he doesn't want this silence of just sitting in the same room as Sans, he can't say it is completely awkward; this isn't the first time Mettaton has sat by while Sans sleeps. So he looks away from the skeleton to the door, letting the silence win out.

And win it does for a few minutes, Mettaton trying to ignore Sans like he wants and Sans doing whatever it is he actually wants to do. It is defeated however by the sound of cracking glass, and Mettaton's head whips around to see Mini, punching one of the few mirrors in the room. It's a small mirror, one that was hung up on the wall, which required the tiny robot to build a small little tower of books and things that they climbed up with to reach it.

Mettaton is up in an instant, running over to them quickly and plucking them away from it.

"Mini!! What are you doing??? You could get hurt!"

He starts to check their hands as they begin to beep.

I was breaking the mirror, dad. I didn't want him to see us.

The star pauses in his worried ministrations, his eyes flicking up to lock with Mini's front panels. He frowns for a moment, then speaks, though this time in the same series of beeps and clicks that Mini uses. There's a chance that Sans won't 100% understand what they are saying, and he plans to use that to his advantage.

Mini, that's not safe for you to do, and you know it. You don't need to act out like this.

The little bot's panels light up in a series of flashes, giving off an air of frustration. I don't like it when you talk to him!! You don't act like you when you do!

Mettaton's face grows more serious and a tad bit angry. Sweetheart, this is not the time nor place to discuss this. If you want to talk, we can do this later.

The bot lets out a small, high-pitched wail as they wrench themself out of Mettaton's grasp, falling to the floor and just managing to catch themself on their wheel, much to Mettaton's horror.

I'm sick of it!! He doesn't even like me anyway! He doesn't like anybody but you!!!

Their distraught beeping continues, though not with any understandable words to it. Mettaton bends down to try and reach them but they dart away, continuing their tirade of sounds.

Mini, darling, please! Be reasonable here! You shouldn't be doing this in front of Sans!

The bot makes no reply but instead takes a leaf out of 4's book, wheeling up to and past Sans, stuffing themself under the bed.

"Mini!!" Mettaton says aloud in regular Monster as he immediately bends down to try and reach them. "Mini, you come out of there this instant!"

What a mess. What an awful mess.

Sans literally just curls up on the floor, facing the bed so he can keep an eyesocket on 4. 4 glares daggers at him from the darkened corner and Sans just kind of mentally shrugs to himself and tries to fall asleep.

And it almost works. Mettaton doesn't say another word, and for several blissful moments, there's silence. Sans almost makes it to dreamland. He's in that sort of half-asleep zone where things get fuzzy and unreal.

Then there's the bright, sharp sound of breaking glass.

Sans jolts so hard he almost hits his head on the bed frame. Mirror, it's gotta be a mirror, because none of the windows are breakable right now, of course not, the mansion wouldn't want them to have an easy escape in an event like this, and the only other glass thing in here is the mirror, and someone must have been watching, or maybe this is just the third part of the event, maybe the Mirrors are all going to come through and make this whole thing a real horrorshow, and Sans has to clamp down on the instinctive desire to just teleport back to his room.

He finally actually looks up and absorbs the situation. Mini is standing near the broken mirror, and them and Mettaton are speaking robot at each other. Mettaton sounds scared; Mini sounds agitated, frustrated maybe. They're both beeping too fast for Sans to follow.

"what--"

Mini wails and jerks out of Mettaton's grasp, and now it's clear the two of them are yelling at each other. And then Mini goes flying at the bed. Sans scoots aside to allow them and Mini crawls right under. 4 gives a warning growl. Sans peers under the bed to make sure 4 doesn't get any nasty ideas, but the cat just presses into the opposite corner and hisses at the small robot.

"the heck just happened? was someone writing on the mirror?"

Mettaton, for his part, considers extending an arm under the bed and purposely grabbing them, but he decides against it. They are clearly upset right now, and violating their actions by pulling them out would just make it worse. So he settles for peering under the bed much like Sans was just a few moments ago.

"Mini, please, this is silly. Please come out."

For a moment he considers ignoring Sans's question in lieu of more important manners, but Mini just stuffs themself more against the wall under the bed, giving 4 a curious look but not doing anything towards the cat. They love animals, but they can tell when one doesn't want to play. Just from that look Mettaton knows that they aren't coming out any time soon.

He sits back, sighing.

"No. No one was writing on the mirror. Mini was just being a bit paranoid."

I was not being paranoid! He's always there! Always! And you let him!

Mettaton sends a glare towards the bed, but doesn't respond to Mini's accusation.

"There's nothing to worry about. Just a family spat."

It's clearly so much more than just a family spat, but Mettaton is hoping that Sans won't dig. Even as Mini keeps yelling.

I don't like him, dad, I don't I don't! He's rude and mean and-

Mettaton, at that, snaps a little.

"He is more than that, and you know it! Stop this nonsense and come out!"

The tiny bot makes more frustrated, angry noises as Mettaton looks to Sans. "I'm sorry about this. They usually don't do things like this. This event must be stressing them out."

Excuses excuses, Mettaton.

Sans watches the exchange like someone watching a tennis match. This is, uh. This is a lot more awkward than it was a few minutes ago when Mettaton was just asking him personal questions. Family members yelling at each other is one of his least favorite things.

He sits back a bit, waiting for things to die down.

"uh, well. i guess the kid has a point...mirrors are bad news."

Both regular mirrors and actual Mirrors, as far as Sans is concerned.

And then Mettaton actually yells, and some small part of Sans's soul wrenches away, as if it wants to go hide under the bed as well.

He folds his arms and settles against the bed again, not quite even looking at Mettaton as he tries to explain things.

"nah, it's okay. event's stressing everyone out, yanno? kids'll take it harder than most."

Kids get scared. Kids count on the adults around them to keep their cool, to know what to do. To not--

Anyway.

"who're they mad at? it's not, uh...is it me?"

Couldn't be, right? It's gotta be someone in the mirror. Someone who might've been watching. Probably not Sans's own Mirror, since Sans hasn't heard from the guy in months now.

Mettaton ignores Sans's comment about mirrors. Of course they're bad news. He knows this. He knows this very well.

...

He sighs again. "They're not angry at you, not at all. They're just frustrated with other things."

Mini shifts under the bed, pushing themself more against the wall. I don't want him here. I want it to be just us, for once. Please, daddy.

The tone, low and quiet and just a little sad, brings forth a look of pure guilt on Mettaton's face and he ducks down to look at Mini again.

...He's not here, my little M&M. I'm sorry.

His response is also quiet as he tries to pitch his voice so that Sans can't hear it, for whatever good that would do. Mini lets out a low beep but goes silent, choosing to stay under the bed. Mettaton takes the hint and sits up from kneeling, ruffling his hair away from his face worriedly. He's not looking at Sans but to the wall, and perhaps past it.

"...I've already apologized for this, right? Well. I apologize again."

Not him. Then it's almost certainly a Mirror. Maybe a Mirror has been spying on them both? Or maybe it's just Mettaton's Mirror. Which would be odd, seeing as Mettaton would have no real reason to defend the guy. At least none that Sans can think of.

It sounds like it's worse than Sans thought, judging by Mini's now quiet, sad beeping, and Mettaton's response, pitched down intentionally so it's harder for Sans to follow. The only word he gets is "sorry."

This is private. He shouldn't be here. He thinks again about just disappearing and coming back to collect 4 in a few hours. Mettaton and Mini should probably just...have some time to talk and sort things out, right? And here Sans is, getting in the way.

Not like that's anything new.

He sits back against the bed again, watching Mettaton out of the corner of his eyesocket. If Mettaton wants him to leave, he'll just say so. The robot isn't shy about that sort of thing.

"nah, it's fine. no apology necessary."

He draws a knee up to his chest and drapes his arms over it.

"guess i, uh. ain't really got the right to ask, considering."

Of course the comment itself is question enough. But when is he ever not a manipulative hypocrite?

He doesn't know what to do. Mini has stuffed themself under the bed and broken the mirror and they shouldn't have done that, they really shouldn't have, because if the mirror is broken than means that he-

Sans's words cut into his thoughts and it stops the spiral. Calm down, Mettaton. It's fine. It's totally fine. It will be fine.

In fact, the skeleton's words give him an out. Push the conversation away from him, away from this mess. Press it on him and he'll stop talking. Sans doesn't push like that. Sans doesn't want to know these things about Mettaton, nor would he care. He doesn't care.

Remember that.

"Considering you clutch your secrets to your chest jealously, I'd say you're right. You especially have no right to ask when you actively push away those who even remotely worry about you."

It's not as barbed as it could be. There's not a lot of bitterness to it. But the words are still sharp despite being said so evenly. He remembers the hallway and how vulnerable he had let himself be.

What a mistake.

Mettaton picks it up and uses it like a weapon. Damn, but he's good at that. Sans thinks they're a lot alike, that way. Though maybe Mettaton has different reasons for it.

Now Mettaton has an out, something to think about so he doesn't have to think about whatever the hell just happened. Sans shifts himself ever so slightly.

"got my reasons. imagine you've got yours too."

And there's that whole worry thing again, the whole concern thing, the whole friendship thing. This is what happens when you let yourself care--suddenly other people are caring back at you, and you have no idea how to deal with it.

Maybe...maybe he owes Mettaton something, though. The guy did save his life, even if it was a horrible experience for everyone involved. He still wakes up sometimes remembering the flood of energy and power, magic overtaking his soul. Or he wakes up and remembers that brief second where things felt...

Normal. Because...that's what it was, right? He doesn't exactly have any way to gauge that sort of thing. Nothing has ever been normal for him. Is that really what it feels like to be a normal, functioning monster with an appropriate amount of HP, a decent amount of ATK and DEF, or is Sans just projecting?

But maybe he does owe Mettaton. He's terrible at paying off his tab, but...well, there's this whole trying thing. Awful habit.

He rubs the back of his neck, fingers clicking against cervical vertebrae.

"listen, uh. i'm real bad at--it's usually just papyrus doing the worrying, yanno? and he's sorta obligated, being my brother and all. no one else has that sorta obligation."

And he knows it's not really about obligation. Especially not with Papyrus. Caring, it just sort of happens whether you want it to or not, and some people are just way better at it than others.

"i dunno. guess i'm still just not used to it. but, heh. that just sounds like an excuse."

So maybe, instead of rambling and deflecting and generally being a pathetic waste, he should say something real.

It comes out in a sort of gruff rush, since he'd really rather not say anything about it at all.

"point is, uh. i know things've been weird since the holidays, and maybe just in general, so i guess i'm--sorry. for being--i mean, you were just trying to help, and you did save my life. it's just...me. i'm not..."

Normal.

He gives an expansive shrug and grins.

"i'm kinda just a weirdo."

Mettaton is stunned. This... this isn't at all the reaction he expected. At minimum he expected a deflecting joke and for them both to lapse back into silence. At maximum he expected Sans to take the bait and get into an argument with him over whatever.

But he's reaching out now. He's speaking from what Mettaton thinks is the heart and he just... doesn't know how to feel about it. The one time you need Sans to dodge and he takes the hit square on.

"I. Well."

He starts. Stops. Ruffles his hair a little more. Goodness, how do you respond to this?

"Thank you for the. Apology. Though I think I owe you one in return."

No, Mettaton. Stop talking. You shouldn't be talking like this, remember? This is why he gets mad with you. This is why things can go so-

"I should have thought about what I was doing when I thrust that ticket on you. You told me a little about... about whatever happened with you and it didn't even occur to me that I was sort of recreating it. I could have at least given you some warning, or some preparation."

He settles his back against the bed. Whatever. Whatever! He's already talking. There's no stopping it now, apparently.

"I got so wrapped up in worrying about keeping you alive that I didn't give a thought to keeping you safe."

It's embarrassing, inasmuch as Sans has enough dignity left in him to ever fully get embarrassed. He didn't even mean to say that much. Could've just left it at "sorry for being weird" and have done.

"just wanted to clear the air is all. move on."

Because he actually kind of misses talking to Mettaton, and there's been like this dark cloud over both of them, this pall whenever Sans thinks about even talking to him. And it's all stupid. It's not Mettaton he's really even been upset with. It's not Mettaton at all.

It's just--he should be past it. It's been years. Time's supposed to heal all wounds or whatever, so why can't he just get over it? Is he just gonna act like a pathetic babybones every time someone gets desperate and tries to help him?

"nah, it's...it's fine." He fidgets idly with a loose thread at the end of one sleeve. "you didn't know. and that shouldn't be something you or anyone should have to worry about. i should be over it by now."

The best part is that it's damn hypocritical. Mettaton does something desperate to save him, and then a few days later, Sans turned around and did something desperate to save Frisk. It's a wonder the kid's been able to forgive him at all--and honestly, he's not entirely sure they have.

And it's--maybe it's a bit confusing. Some kind of cognitive dissonance. Because if Frisk has every right to hate him for taking their choice away, does Sans have a right to be upset for having his choice taken away? Or is that just melodramatic?

Maybe he and Frisk are just so used to having their choices taken away that it's stopped mattering. But that doesn't explain why it still stings when it happens.

"i don't...d'you think it's better for someone to..."

No, he's not going to do this. He's not going to get into this with Mettaton, or with anyone. He settles himself with a softly frustrated sound and stops fidgeting with his sleeve.

"never mind. this event's just wearin' me out."

Mettaton shakes his head, giving himself over completely to the tide of conversation.

"Just because it's been years since it happened doesn't mean that it won't still affect you. Time can heal but sometimes all it does is put distance between you and the memory. That's it."

It's been years since the other ghosts left the farm, but their departure still hurts Napstablook to this day. And himself, just a little bit.

Sans starts to say something more but then he cuts himself off. Mettaton tries to let it lie like that. Tries to let it rest. But he's a curious bot.

"For someone to what? To talk?"

That's what everyone always says is the best thing to do.

"i guess."

He'd asked Undyne once how she'd done it. How does one get better? Training and talking, she'd said. It's a few years ago now, but it's just as irrelevant for him as it was back then. You can't talk about something that never happened, nor can you train it away.

But maybe that's the only way to actually fix anything. To seek help in some way.

Sans is terrible at that sort of thing.

"no." He says it a bit too sharply and forces himself to calm back down and try again. "no, like..."

He doesn't want to talk about any of it, doesn't want to drag Mettaton into this, not when the guy is having his own problems, with his child and apparently with some unidentified Mirror. God, no one should have to be part of this bullshit.

"like...is...is it better to. to save someone's life, even if it means you...you do something, heh, not so great to do it. or is it better to, uh, to let them--let 'em make a choice, even if that means they could--yanno. where d'you...where d'you draw that line?"

Mettaton doesn't react for a moment. He goes still and so perfectly so he seems almost statuesque.

"That's... a very good question, Sans."

He's tired. He's so, so tired. And the skeleton's words tear open an old wound and the dust seeps out of it and forms into words.

"Of the two times I have been in that position, I have erred on the side of doing the 'bad thing', though I can't say it was a completely conscious decision."

Panic and fear and love and desperation are a potent cocktail when mixed together.

"But... I would rather keep someone alive so that they have the chance in the future to make a different choice, to give their life a chance to be better than before, rather than allow the permanency of death to be their only solution."

He leans back against the bed, giving the ceiling a deeply weary look that settles into the subtle lines in his face where plate meets plate.

"Though, beyond that, I wasn't thinking of any lofty ideals. All I wanted was to make sure you and Blooky survived."

Edited (grammar is hard at 2am) 2017-02-18 07:02 (UTC)

Sans isn't really expecting the question to affect Mettaton that much. Sure, it's a pretty tough question, but this seems to hit him deep.

He's quiet as he listens to Mettaton's answer, looking in his general direction but not quite at him. Save the person now, and apologize for how you did it later. It makes sense. If they're dead, there are no more choices, no more futures. No apologies to be made.

Only that's not true. Wonderland brings people back. And back underground, there's always a Reset that scrubs all the dust off any timeline.

He almost misses when things were easier, when he could care less. When it was just him and an anomaly, and all these other monsters he knew or didn't. When he could care about just one person and have that be enough. To not have to think about things too hard.

Also not true. He's always thinking. It's just about all he can do.

"i guess that makes sense."

Wonderland and Resets or not, it's at least the option of a future. Of a Continue. Even just the option is sometimes good enough.

He blinks at the last thing Mettaton says and looks at him fully.

"napsta? they actually...did they actually--go through with it?"

It's just one day they had said, their glow eerie in the pitch blackness of the forest. An entire day without them. An entire day of knowing why they would be gone, why they were gone, knowing that they had chosen to just... to just...

Even with revival guaranteed, it was still a permanent choice. A permanent scar upon their time here. There will always be one mark of death on them. And the memories will linger and they and everyone who knows them will know.

Mettaton doesn't think about the resets too hard. He knows that technically all of your work in one timeline would be erased for another. But... he'd like to believe that on some greater level than any of them understand, it would make a difference.

That could just be his ego talking though.

"I'm no great moralist, as I'm sure you're aware. I just know that they are entitled to their choice, and I am entitled to mine."

He knows he will get in trouble for this. For speaking about this to Sans, Sans of all people. He's opened up to him once with disastrous results and this promises to be no different but maybe that's ok. Maybe it will finally teach him a lesson. The jealousy is still there, buried under the other problems that have sprung up between them, and perhaps this will finally break them of this odd, ill-fated friendship that refuses to fade between them.

"No. But not for a lack of trying."

His voice is flat, lacking in his usual color and vigor.

"They would have succeeded if I hadn't promised that if they went, I would go too."

He'd walked ahead of them then. Deeper into the forest than they had gone. The branches and bushes had scratched at him. He hadn't noticed really until he was back in his room hours later, looking in the mirror. He didn't go to Alphys for that. He's always known how to buff out scratches.

He forgets sometimes that Napstablook and Mettaton even know each other. He's not sure how that even happened. Napstablook never seemed to leave their snail farm all that often, and Sans can't see how Waterfall would appeal to someone like Mettaton. All that damp must be hell on circuitry.

But they do know each other, and they clearly care very deeply about each other.

There's that thing about choice again. Maybe that's the best way to think about it. Someone can choose to do something terrible, but you don't have to choose to let them. You can choose to try and stop them. Or stand in their way. There's some subtle difference between making your own choice and taking someone else's choice away; a line that's easily crossed.

"that makes...sense, i think. about choice."

He needs to think about it more.

He rubs the back of his skull as Mettaton continues. He's not sure Mettaton should be telling him this. History has shown that Sans isn't so great at keeping secrets that aren't his own.

A suicide pact. Like Frisk and Chara. No wonder Mettaton is drawing a comparison between what happened with Napstablook and what happened with Sans. Telling someone you'll die with them--that's pretty manipulative. But it seems like it worked.

"i saw them on the beach that day. they said they wanted to..."

To just swim out until they reached the edge of Wonderland, and whatever happens to people who try that, happened. Sans had tried to talk them out of it, in his usual apathetic, half-hearted way. Guess it hadn't worked. Should've tried harder.

"...it's good you got them to stop."

Mettaton laughs. It's hollow and devoid of any real happiness.

"They were pretty obvious about what they wanted to do, huh? I suspected they were thinking of this when they sent that accidental text to the Network a bit before. Remember? Of all the ways you can die here in Wonderland due to the environment?"

He pulls his legs up closer to his body, resting his chin on his knees. This isn't an elegant or beautiful or even sexy way to hold yourself but right now he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. What performance is there for discussing your cousin's attempted suicide? If he's on stage, it's to an empty auditorium except for the skeleton sitting in the front row.

"I watched them closely after that. I knew they were depressed but as a ghost they can't die in the traditional ways other Monsters can. They are, functionally, immortal. But Wonderland has different laws, different rules that take away that guarantee."

He smiles bitterly.

"I was the one who initially warned them of this. I guess you could say I helped put the plan in their head."

He should have never told them. Just kept them from going out too far. Then again, they never would have gone outside if they hadn't known, huh? He truly was to blame.

It's almost funny. In every single lifetime that Wonderland has put me through, I have gone above and beyond in trying to keep you safe; in taking care of you. I'm sorry that in the lifetime it mattered the most, I didn't.

"They left me a note. They tried to say that they were 'going camping' and that they would be gone for a day. It was such bullshit. They're afraid of the outdoors! How did they think for a moment that that would work on me?"

He shakes his head, some emotion finally seeping onto his face, but the frustration bleeds out quickly.

"...I got them to stop because. When they wouldn't turn around, wouldn't let me grab them and pull them back, I. I knew there was nothing else I could do. So I."

His voice trembles a little as he says this. The room doesn't feel solid anymore. There's no carpeting underneath them, no tile. No, it's leaves. Dead leaves and grass and bushes. It's dark, isn't it? So, so dark.

"I walked ahead of them. I kept walking. I walked deeper into the forest than they had gone. I almost died that day."

He's not looking at Sans. He can't look at Sans.

He does remember that. He remembers it making him uncomfortable, uneasy, in the same way that the kids make him uneasy when they say something a bit off. But he'd ended up shrugging it off. Had other things to think about, and he and the ghost aren't that close.

Thank goodness Mettaton was there. Thank goodness Mettaton gave a damn.

He doesn't quite look at Mettaton as Mettaton tucks himself up, sitting with his chin on his knees like a child would. This is private. Mettaton is being vulnerable around him, and that's--he shouldn't trust things like this to someone like Sans. He should know better. Didn't he ever learn what a terrible, terrible idea it is to show vulnerability to anyone?

Anyone but family at least?

He stays quiet and listens, not moving. Mettaton's voice is starting to shake. Sans--he'd had no idea. He hadn't known it had gotten this bad. He always figured that after he walked away from the beach, Napstablook had simply changed their mind.

Mettaton finishes and goes silent, and he's not looking at Sans either. Sans isn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything. How do you respond to something like that? "Sorry" is completely useless.

"i, uh..."

No, that's not right either. Can't say he's glad they're both still here, can't say he can relate, can't say he knows what it's like. It's not about him. He doesn't matter.

"it's...it's good both of you..."

He just isn't sure what to say.

"did...you and them talk about it after that?"

Making it about him again like the selfish little thing he is, because he can't help but hope that they did, because he and Papyrus never got a chance to talk. They both avoided it, and then Papyrus was gone, and it's like--a hole that can never, ever be filled. He and his brother will never be able to sort that out, really sort out how it felt, and Sans will never be able to truly apologize for what he put his brother through. Sans never likes or wants to talk about himself or any of that heavy stuff, but there are some things that truly need to be discussed.

A lost opportunity. So he finds himself hoping that Mettaton and Napstablook didn't miss it as well.

Mettaton gives a small sigh.

"No. We haven't talked about it at all. We just came back to the Mansion and have just... ignored it since then."

They've talked since it happened, but they haven't talked.

"I'm afraid to bring it up, if you can believe it. I'm afraid that if I talk to them about it, they may end up attempting again and I will have to follow through on my promise."

I don't want to die, Sans he almost says, but bites his tongue. He can already feel the tears pricking at the edges of his eyes and he will not cry in front of Sans, he will not! Some dignity needs to be preserved.

He wrestles control over himself again, even as he unconsciously shifts just a little bit closer to Sans.

"I'm sorry. Usually when I talk about myself it's more flash and awe and less..."

He waves a hand.

"Depression."

He gives a dark chuckle as he lowers his hand again.

"I'm here talking about potential death and you're here having actually gone through it. ...I wish I could have helped you then."

The beach, while not as painfully poignant as the forest is for him now, is still a tough place for him to be when he remembers both of his conversations he had had with Sans there.

It's so weird to hear the tremor in Mettaton's voice, to hear him sighing. Mettaton is usually so put together. You'd think nothing could shake him.

Though Sans figures people probably assume that about him, too. Everyone has a persona that they project, that they hide behind. Something to keep them safe.

"that's...rational."

It's the same reason he never brought it up with Papyrus. Didn't want to upset him, didn't want to make him cry again, didn't want to make it worse. Didn't want to set himself off, either. He's made sure to be very good at hiding it, but he still catches himself now and then, remembering the way Papyrus's Mirror looked at him, remembering the way the sand shifted beneath his feet, and later remembering the sound of bone impacting his shoulder. The way the clavicle and rib just snapped like it was nothing. Like he was made of toothpicks.

He catches himself thinking about it, and then it's an hour later and he hasn't moved and he's wondering why he bothered getting out of bed if it was going to be that kind of day.

...He's doing it again. Making it about himself. It's different for Mettaton. Mettaton's got a promise to keep, and he's probably better at it than Sans is anyway. Just like Chara had a promise to keep, and followed through with it when Frisk died in Quor'toth. And Sans did nothing.

He realizes he's gripping his left shoulder and makes himself let go. Rubs the back of his neck instead.

"nah. it's okay. event like this makes you...contemplative."

All that crushing water out there, the slow depletion of oxygen. The Resets undoing anything you try to do. Yeah, contemplative is a good word for it.

"and, uh. it's fine. wasn't exactly being receptive to help then. heh. i never am."

Part and parcel of never telling anybody anything.

"dying's, uh..." He pauses. Doesn't want to make this about himself, but Mettaton sounds like he'd rather stop talking about his own problems. Somewhat astonishing, given it's Mettaton. But if that's the case, then maybe talking about it is...

It's just. Hard. It's hard, because he kind of--owes Mettaton now. This is the problem with talking about these things, and this is why he's usually so good at shutting people down when they start, because he doesn't want to know. Because if he knows, then the other person has a right to know something too. It's an exchange, like a debt or something. Quid pro quo. And now he owes Mettaton something, and he doesn't want to, because it's making things about him, and it's letting himself be vulnerable, letting himself open up to people--three things Sans avoids with the same doggedness that he avoids doing actual work.

Maybe that's it. Because opening up and talking is kind of like work.

But he owes Mettaton now, so.

"dying's...easy." He keeps still, keeps his tone neutral, and doesn't fidget. Stares straight ahead at the opposite wall.

"being dead's easy. i guess, uh, maybe that's--maybe that's a weird thing to think, but...i dunno, it's always just kinda been--right there. 1 HP and all. you kinda just get used to the idea that it could just happen. and then it happens, and it's just kinda."

He shrugs.

"it's just kinda what you expect. nothing really surprising. it hurts, and then it's quiet. never anything all that out of the ordinary. not like september was the first time, either."

It becomes rote. You can get used to anything, especially when the human always kills him in the exact same way every single time. You'd think there'd be a permanent line across his ribs, across and down.

"it's the stuff leading up to it, i guess. and then the stuff after you wake up. knowing it was--knowing who did it and how and knowing papyrus had to just sit there afterward. all the stuff you kinda just have to live with."

He gives a quiet sigh, his tone still completely neutral.

"papyrus and i never really talked about it afterward, either, and...i think that's one of the things i regret most about the whole thing. i'll never..."

He'll never get to convince Papyrus that it wasn't his fault. He'll never get to apologize for ruining the goodbye, or for leaving Papyrus to fend for himself with nothing but dust. He'll never get to explain what it meant to save Papyrus's life for once, or what it meant that someone who looked like Papyrus was the one to kill him. He'll never get to sort it all out. Papyrus is gone. He's gone. He's never, ever coming back, and even if he does, he won't remember that it ever happened. That's for the best, but there's still that emptiness in Sans's soul, and maybe that's selfish but...

God, he really is gone. He really isn't coming back. Something catches in Sans's ribcage and he shoves it down. Not here, not now, not in front of Mettaton.

"sorry, i uh. didn't mean to--make it all about me."

Mettaton gives the floor a few inches in front of him a rueful smile. Rational, huh? He supposes it is. All of this is so, so rational. Emotions and trauma and memories all slotting into place to make this hot mess a reality.

The robot listens quietly as Sans talks about his death. About the experience. About his 1 HP. Mettaton forgets that, sometimes. It's odd to look at someone who seems so whole, so solid, and know that on the inside, somewhere, something is off. That their body isn't like yours and will never function like yours. He's not less. He'll never be less, Mettaton realizes with a bit of a jolt. When did he stop thinking he was better than him? When did he start looking at Sans like an equal? He'd known, logically, that technically the skeleton wasn't beneath him (unless you refer to height) but now- now he feels it. Truly understands it.

He really does view him as a friend. Fuck.

Sans is odd about touch too. It's something he noticed way back when Sans was trying to get a new hoodie and Mettaton had grabbed him to move him. He'd frozen, probably fighting back the urge to teleport, thinking back on it. Mettaton never apologized for that. Funny how that only occurs to him now.

He lays a hand out between them. Silent. He hadn't noticed that he was so close to Sans until there is the barest of shoulder brushing. It's the best he can do right now, this non-verbal question. As it is with the kids, Sans doesn't have to take the invitation for contact. Mettaton makes sure his actions look as natural as possible, to lessen any feelings of coercion. He wants to hug him, but he knows that is not welcome now.

"There's no need to apologize, dear. Not talking to someone before they disappear for forever is a completely understandable regret."

So understandable, in fact, that it's the kind of regret that makes you lie awake at night, wondering where that key of yours landed.

"...He gave me a bouquet. For my birthday. It was late and during that time when the Mirrors crossed over, but it was a beautiful thing. I still have it on a desk in my room."

It has a place of honor next to a hand knit pink scarf. It's never wilted. Mettaton thinks it's one of the few nice things about Wonderland that Papyrus's vibrancy will never die.

"Did Papyrus ever know about whoever messed with your magic?"

It's a gentle question. A gentle prod. If Sans shuts him down, he won't push again. But he's curious. Did Papyrus ever know? Or did Sans keep secrets from his own family too?

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suicide cw!!!

good happy times

Undertale: the happy RPG where no one has to die!!!!! (also more mentions of suicide cw)

fuck me running

that's a weird way to fuck someone but its ok I dont judge (and the content warning dont stop comin)

the pain train don't stop

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