[They found a stack of cards written a long time ago. A month ago, they think. There's a post-it note stuck to the top, cheerfully proclaiming - "for Thanksgiving!"
They suppose they should hand them out. There's a...a twinge of something when they look at the topmost one. The one that should go to the bed beside them. The empty bed. Their SOUL starts to...ache.
They swallow. They swallow very, very hard. Screw their eyes shut, blink rapidly. Something's off. Something's different.
They feel...empty. Not empty like they have before.
Worse empty.
They have to make it go away. So they make it go away the only way they can think of. They hand the notes out. Maybe if they do that, it'll go away, and they can feel nothing again. Go back to feeling nothing at all.
So on Thanksgiving Day, Mettaton will find a card beneath his door.
On the outside:]
[And within:]
"Dear Mettaton,
Thank you for listening to me when I told you about how things were before I fell. Not everyone understands. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty for something you didn't do. You did your best to listen.
You've done a lot for me since you came here. I love you a lot, OK?
[When he finds the card, slipped under his door much like Blooky's note had been a few weeks ago, he at first doesn't want to read it. It's silly, but he worries it might be something bad once again, and he doesn't know if he can deal with it right now.
Eventually he does actually read what is on the front of the card and deems it safe to open. When he reads its contents he feels a now familiar swoop of pain and regret. Why would they write this for him if they never cared for him? How could they have written this if they can't feel anything right now?
He resolves to throw it away. After all, if they truly mean what they said in this card, they should say so instead of telling him they don't. Mettaton places the card next to the bouquet that Papyrus gave him a few months ago. He'll throw it away later.
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timeasmymeasure
note slid under his door, thanksgiving day
Date: 2016-11-24 05:57 am (UTC)They suppose they should hand them out. There's a...a twinge of something when they look at the topmost one. The one that should go to the bed beside them. The empty bed. Their SOUL starts to...ache.
They swallow. They swallow very, very hard. Screw their eyes shut, blink rapidly. Something's off. Something's different.
They feel...empty. Not empty like they have before.
Worse empty.
They have to make it go away. So they make it go away the only way they can think of. They hand the notes out. Maybe if they do that, it'll go away, and they can feel nothing again. Go back to feeling nothing at all.
So on Thanksgiving Day, Mettaton will find a card beneath his door.
On the outside:]
[And within:]
"Dear Mettaton,
Thank you for listening to me when I told you about how things were before I fell. Not everyone understands. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty for something you didn't do. You did your best to listen.
You've done a lot for me since you came here. I love you a lot, OK?
Thanks for everything!
- Frisk! ♥"
no subject
Date: 2016-11-27 03:38 am (UTC)Eventually he does actually read what is on the front of the card and deems it safe to open. When he reads its contents he feels a now familiar swoop of pain and regret. Why would they write this for him if they never cared for him? How could they have written this if they can't feel anything right now?
He resolves to throw it away. After all, if they truly mean what they said in this card, they should say so instead of telling him they don't. Mettaton places the card next to the bouquet that Papyrus gave him a few months ago. He'll throw it away later.
He doesn't touch it again.]