FUTUROLOGY IC INBOX

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username: UNKNOWNREALMS

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[Every sentence is like a thorn, digging into him, going deeper. He had been annoyed before - how come Mettaton hasn't shared as much with me as I have with him - but now Mettaton's words change that to a horrifying self realization - he didn't share because YOU didn't ask. It was him all along, wasn't it?]

[Keats just stares at him for a long moment after his tirade is done.]

...I do.

[He says, finally, with a sigh.]

I've only shown this - [He gestures at himself.] - to one other person in ALASTAIR, and that was to a person that was going to kill me. It was for protection. I didn't do it here to protect myself, but to show you what it was like because you wanted it. It's incredibly painful, you know. I could've just said no.

[He just feels like he's been gutted. He stares at Mettaton and he almost wants to be mad at him. To yell at him. To argue, to hiss, to spit, to prove he's right, to give into goading.]

[But he can't.]

[...Isn't that sad?]

I went to your movie party. I went shopping with you. I don't like those things. But I gave it a chance, because it was you. Because I liked you. And I did enjoy myself, didn't I tell you as much after you found me walking around.

[He glances aside. He doesn't know what to say. His heart pounds within his ears, and he has half a wish to be anywhere rather than here, staring at that cruel expression on Mettaton's face.]

You're right, though. I haven't asked about you very much at all. I don't know about you as much as you know about me. That night, I thought kissing would make you feel better that night, because I was drunk and didn't know any better and didn't think it would hurt you instead. I've been sharing things with you as if that's all that mattered. And I just...I did you wrong, Mettaton.

[He did himself wrong. He wants to curl up, to just pretend this isn't happening. Denial isn't going to solve this though. Running away won't solve this. He's face to face with a robot that is rightfully angry, and he doesn't know what to do or say to solve it except just say how he feels and hope for the best.]

But...right now, I asked if you were alright because you seemed upset and...that doesn't benefit me. I did it because I didn't want to see you worried. Is that selfish of me to not want to see you anything but happy...?

[He finally finds the courage to stare back into Mettaton's eyes with his own.]

I've just been messing up everything as I go along, haven't I?

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Yes.

It's so easy to say. Yes, it's your fault. Yes, I'm blaming you. His mouth starts the process of syncing the word to the sound about to leave his speakers, but... it doesn't come.

Mettaton's tired. Keats knows he hurt him and is genuinely sorry. That's more than most people would ever do. Have ever done.

The anger finally deflates into some sort of calm defeat. He can't goad this man into a fight. He wouldn't be able to win it, anyway.]

No. [At the very least, there's one thing he has to correct.] You want Mettaton. You want shiny and alluring and glamorous and joyful. You want a celebrity. An image. You want someone silly and shallow and adoring, someone that will always shower his fans in glitter and affection. Someone that will always tell that you're stunning and worth it even when you're NOT.

You don't want me. [His lights of his eyes dim, words trailing out of his speakers that have never rung aloud before now.] I don't want me...

[Ha. Haha... The cloak comes back up just as his hands go to his face. He shakes his fingers through his hair, squeezes his eyes shut, and breathes air he doesn't need.

Finally:]

Can't we just forget this? [His hands fold back to his side and he's smiling, but his voice is desperate. That's pathetic. Why doesn't he have better control of himself? If he gets closer, like he does now, and gingerly places his hands on the other's chest, like he's whispering sweet nothings, no one on earth would notice.] I'll stop asking you questions, alright? I'll stop digging into business that isn't mine and we can keep pretending we aren't just using one another for the attention. Let's just... pretend.

Please?

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[I don't want me.]

[There it is. Even robots can be made for self-loathing, it seems.]

[Keats opens his mouth and closes it. He doesn't know what to say. To compliment Mettaton would seem empty. To confirm it would only make Mettaton feel worse. He's been here countless times before, and he knows that this is a feeling that you can't really fix with a few words. You can't erase years of this in a single instance.]

[But still, he decides he'll say something. No large statements here - he knows those will just fall flat - but he won't be silent:]

Well, I don't know about you, but I don't know many celebrities who take care of lost children, or host movies nights for their friends, or rant about The Little Mermaid, or find tweed jackets for certain reporters, or go out on their own to find out what a sleepwalking journalist is saying in his sleep.

[Mettaton steps forward, and Keats reaches out to grasp him by the shoulders, trying to catch Mettaton's eyes. Using one another for the attention. Maybe they are. Maybe this is just shallow. Maybe they're both just selfish, and needy, and they just found the perfect sucker to befriend to provide them what they need.]

[Keats isn't sure, anymore. He wants to think the contrary. He wants to believe that this is something more. He really really does, but how can he, when he hears things like this?]

[Goodness, they're both disasters, aren't they?]

If that's what you want. You can ask me questions, alright? But it's your decision. [He says, with a sigh.] Either way...I'm here for you. I'll try my best to be here for you. Just say the word.

[A pause.]

I promise.

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[This stubborn...

His head collapses into Keats' shoulder as he laughs helplessly. Really? Really? Still?

When he lifts his head, a hand comes with it. Briefly, he caresses the intricate tattoo on the other's cheek.]

You're sweet...

[He can't stay here. He needs to be alone or surrounded by people who have no idea what's going on or- something. He's pulling away again.]

I'll keep it in mind, Mr. Guardian. [The acting switch is flipped back on. He's smiling and charming and, as Keats now knows, without a shadow of a doubt, entirely fake.] If you don't mind...? [Mettaton nods his head towards the hands on his shoulders.]

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[Keats nods, removing his hands with a bit of reluctance as he steps back, giving Mettaton his space.]

Alright. [He's probably about to leave, again. That's fine. They're both exhausted. They both have a lot to think about, here.]

Take care of yourself, Mettaton. [He says, with a faint hint of a smile.] It was good seeing you.

[Even despite...the whole fight thing.]

[ex_mettacrusher33]

[Ha.]

'course it was, darling. I'm me. [Wink.

Now that Mettaton's free, he is, in fact, leaving. He doesn't make a move to look over his shoulder until he's halfway out the door.

...

Yeah. He needs to get out of here.

Bye, Keatsy.]

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[And there he goes.]

[Just like that, he's gone.]

[Keats lets out an exhausted huff as he moves to the bed to sit on the edge of it, leaning forward as he buries his face in his hands. That was...terrible. He still feels kind of sick to his stomach from the whole thing. He kind of has the urge to just curl up and just try not to think about what had happened. As he drags his hands down his face with a groan, he can feel the cloth of the bandages on his hand against his cheek.]

[Oh. He's still in this form, huh?]

[He looks down at his hands. Honestly, this is probably the longest he's ever been like this. Back where he came from, Transcension only lasted for a few minutes or so until all his energy had been used up. Here, he was able to activate it without going all the way. He flexes his fingers, twisting himself to look at his reflection in the vanity mirror.]

[Goodness, he looks monstrous, what with those teeth and glowing eyes. Almost comical too, with how big he is compared to the bed frame. He shouldn't keep this going. Luckily, the transformation back is much easier - magic wafts out of him as he shrinks with a sharp gasp, his hair darkening back to its mousy brown color and his coat changing back swiftly to his usual purple trenchcoat. He stares back at the mirror. It's blurry, but it's now his familiar reflection again. Which feels...strange. For a moment, it feels like what he just was was the original, and this is just another form he's shifted over to...]

[He shakes his head. He can't think of that kind of nonsense. He reaches into his coat pocket...and his fingers meet air. He frowns, checking his other coat pocket. Nothing. He stands up to pat over his coat and pants. It's not here.]

[Wait, where did he-?]

[Oh...oh no.]

Mettaton! [He's going to rush for the door to hopefully catch the robot, but whoops! He's already gone.]

Oh, damn it all...!

[What a great way to end such a tumultuous event. SO GREAT.]