[I don't remember being anything other than a ghost.]

[It's like something's turned off the light, and he's left in cold darkness. He feels a chill pass through his body. It's not because of Mettaton, because of course he's talking about himself. But something in that statement resonates, sends chills through his chest.]

[He...he understands that.]

[He understands that far too well.]

I-is that so? [He says, realizing that there's now a waver in his voice where there wasn't one before. He tries, valiantly, to keep his eyes on Mettaton, to use that warm glow as an anchor.]

[He feels his hands shaking.]

How could anything be afraid of you...? You're about as frightening as a kitten! [Well, like this, at least. When he's a robot, he could probably break a few of his bones without even blinking.] I mean, no offense, but...really, this is really hardly anything to be scared of. Even if you're a ghost, it...it doesn't matter.

[He can't fight off this strange, oppressive feeling. That burden of anxiety, making his heart rush in his chest. I don't remember being anything other than a ghost. Keats lets out a shaking sigh, trying to put on a brave smile.]

[He can't get rid of this feeling. Mettaton is, quite literally, baring his heart for him. And he has let this build up for far, far too long.]

Hey, Mettaton. Can I...can I tell you something?