Keats (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
headlining) wrote2015-12-03 11:35 pm
headlining) wrote2015-12-03 11:35 pmEntry tags:
FUTUROLOGY IC INBOX
username: UNKNOWNREALMS | ✉ ☏📷 |
headlining) wrote2015-12-03 11:35 pm
username: UNKNOWNREALMS | ✉ ☏📷 |
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[He's reaching for the diary himself now to yank it out of Mettaton's hands, like a kid who just wants the best toy to himself. He's grinning like a loon, though.]
Let me see- [He turns the page. It's upside down, but...he can recognize it for what it is.]
Wait, is that us? You drew us? [He elbows Mettaton, though his cheeks are slightly flushed.] Aw, would you look at it! Positively adorable.
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All at once, there's a mass of flailing limbs desperately trying to stop this onslaught of shame. Mettaton winds his legs around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him back, as his arms throw themselves over Keats' shoulders in a vain attempt to push the book out of his hands. This was a mistake! This is character assassination!!]
I CHANGED MY MIND, SHARING TIME IS OVER! YOU DO BETTER!!
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This was your idea, Mettaton! [Ack!!! He's trying to squirm out of those legs, grasping the arms to pull them away from his shoulders. He won't be kept away from the truth!!]
...Oh, what? I'm a prince to you-? [He must not drop the book, this is too good!] I'm your prince, Mettaton?
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That's it!
With a desperate heave, he wraps his arms tight around his boyfriend's chest and playfully kicks a leg out at the book.
He cannot be defeated!]
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[And ooooop, there goes the book, sailing to land on the floor. Bye bye diary. He can't get you because he's currently tied up by his boyfriend's arms right now.]
I thought you were open to sharing your darkest diary secrets! [He says, grinning as he tries to twist himself to look back at the other.] Come now, you're not going back on your promise, are you?
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[But oh, Keats has to wriggle himself to face him and Mettaton is met with a smile brighter than any star. For all his earlier blustering and joking, and even earlier not-so-quiet threats to end this, Mettaton feels like he's melting. He's warm.
Maybe Keats isn't a prince. He's rude. He's nosy and self-centered, warm feelings guarded in razor-sharp ice. He's an Adonis in shaggy clothing. He's light-brown curls framing a strong, glowing face and piercing hazel eyes.
He's the sun. And every day Mettaton feels like Icarus.
He smiles as pulls the other into a shared warmth. Closes his eyes and leans in, rests forehead against forehead. Takes in the smell of ink and tea.
...then he pushes his boyfriend onto the bed, lifts up his shirt, and blows against his stomach.]
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT
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[He laughs out loud, feeling as if a warmth is spreading all over, throughout every inch of his skin. How could one person be this radiant? This beautiful? This astounding, in so many ways? How could Mettaton be this amazing to the point where Keats can't help but smile every time he thinks about him?]
[He's never felt more lucky in his life, to stare into the eyes of someone he loves.]
[...And then that beautiful moment is ruined by the sudden feeling of hot air blown into his stomach.]
M-Mettaton! [He chokes out, in between bouts of laughter. He's trying to shove Mettaton away, his cheeks very red.] Mettaton, please, stop, you ABSOLUTE fiend-!!!
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For a man in the middle of giving another full-grown adult a raspberry, he's sure his eyes have never been softer. It's silly, but it makes him think that maybe he's not just here to be lauded - he's here to make this one grumpy old man in particular smile and laugh.
Mettaton pulls away after one more spiteful blow and crawls into the other's space before flopping onto the bed. He rests his chin on Keats' curls and wraps his arms around him - not playfully or needy, but... to be honest, a little protectively.]
...what happened tonight wasn't your fault. [I'm sorry I took it out on you.]
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[He's fully ready to just continue on his tirade against this clearly mature action of giving his belly a raspberry, but the arms around him, those soft words, make him fall silent.]
[He pauses, before he reaches to pull Mettaton closer to him. It's strange. They've been together for a while now, and they've touched each other in so many ways, but perhaps this is really the first time that Keats has hugged Mettaton so desperately to himself. It's like he's a child, worried that if he lets go, he'll never see Mettaton again...]
...I know. [He murmurs, punctuating his words with a sigh.] I just don't want something like this to happen again.
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Keats couldn't have known Mettaton's restless nights would lead to this. He couldn't have known that the person he assumed wasn't a threat would turn around and weaponize their humanity against his human-weak boyfriend. He can't stop himself from sleepwalking. Mettaton just wanted to have control again, wanted to be angry at someone who couldn't hurt him, and Keats was a convenient target.
...He's a terrible boyfriend, isn't he?
He draws his legs in as much as he can, effectively shielding a man who doesn't need to be shielded in long limbs.] It won't, [he mutters. He promises.]
I do have a gun.
[Okay, bad joke. But it is them.]
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[He lets out a quiet snort at that - it is a bad joke, but it helps him smile, at least. He can't even think about what that man may have done to Mettaton when he was gone. Of course, it's not like he probably meant to cause Mettaton any harm, but banging on the door like that...]
[He sighs, reaching up to cup his boyfriend's cheek in his hand.]
I don't say it often enough, Mettaton, but...I'm really very lucky to have you in my life. I really am.
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[It's hard to hide your face when your hands are busy clutching desperately to another body. Mettaton stiffens at the fingers caressing his skin, at kind words rarely spoken, and...
It feels like walking out of the cold and into a warm room. Like your body adjusting to cool water and suddenly everything is perfect. Like watching snow melt in your palms.
It's easy to blame himself and feel like a burden to someone who doesn't deserve it, especially after tonight. Especially after the last few months. But Keats has the audacity to comfort him when Mettaton's the one trying to do the comforting, and he feels like he's melting.
He clutches his boyfriend tighter, vaguely hoping the man won't feel tears on his fingertips, and laughs.]
You big jerk. You're going to make me rust.
[Ugh. He can feel his core pounding somewhere in his chest. It's causing his skin to heat up, he knows it.]
...I'm lucky to have you too.