[Waiting for a reaction that never comes is torture. Mettaton can't hear what Keats is listening to - it's not his magitek - but it isn't as if he's forgotten what happened minutes ago. So he sits on the bed, fingers plucking at cold sheets.
And then Keats asks that.]
Why is that important? That just happened and you want to leave me alone again? [You JUST told him to leave--] So you can get into another calm, level discussion where you tell him that we're equally guilty? Do you really need to know his side of the story instead of ever asking mine?
[He sighs, his head falling into his hands. This is exhausting. This constant, awful merry-go-round of harassment and arguing and guilt - it's like he's been magnetized to a seat and can't claw his way off this goddamn ride.]
no subject
And then Keats asks that.]
Why is that important? That just happened and you want to leave me alone again? [You JUST told him to leave--] So you can get into another calm, level discussion where you tell him that we're equally guilty? Do you really need to know his side of the story instead of ever asking mine?
[He sighs, his head falling into his hands. This is exhausting. This constant, awful merry-go-round of harassment and arguing and guilt - it's like he's been magnetized to a seat and can't claw his way off this goddamn ride.]
...I'm sorry. [I don't want you to leave.
...]
Come back to bed.