Chapter Text
"Expect to see more rain on Tuesday with a high of 66 degrees Fahrenheit--"
Switch.
"Ever find that your diet just isn't working to trim off that excess fat? Then you need--"
Ugh. Switch.
"$19.99! You heard me! $19.99! But call now and we'll double your offer--"
God, was there nothing on TV!? Switch.
"Is it true, then, that this sabbatical may spell the end for America's hottest, most elusive non-human celebrity--"
Oh God. News about him. Mettaton shut off the TV and flopped backwards onto the ground.
Lying on the ground like this... what a convenient position for him to feel like garbage. And that, in full disclosure, was exactly how he was feeling. So he let the garbage feelings take him over, just as the black sky and bright stars took over his room.
He was convinced now that he made a mistake announcing over all of his social media platforms that he was going on hiatus to live his life a little. He should have expected the barrage of hateful comments on his posts. Normally, Mettaton might have been able to let the insults roll off of him like water from a duck's back. But this wasn't an essay prompt on a TV show. No, this was a post about a short hiatus that would allow him to free himself from the stresses of celebrity life and live his own life like any normal monster or human. Honestly, his fans had lives outside of idolizing him; why, then, wouldn't it make sense that Mettaton should have a life outside of performing?
Fans never understood. It didn't matter if that fan was a monster or a human, even if monsters were a little more understanding than humans. They never saw the real person behind the celebrity mask. The real Mettaton; the one who spoke relatively normally off-camera as opposed to his booming game-show host belt or his low romantic drawl (barring the terms of endearment he used both on TV and in regular day-to-day speech), the one who did not strike poses every waking moment like he did in his shows, who did not spice up each real-life moment with slasher horror like he did on his broadcasts when their normally frenetic energy threatened to peter out -- would they still love this off-camera, everyday Mettaton? He had no idea. So far, the only ones who had seen it were his cousins, his host body's creator and her girlfriend, and two skeleton brothers he met at a gathering.
He let out a deep sigh. He wanted this to be a relaxing break, free from the anxiety and stress that his work entailed. And yet all he wanted to do was call the nearest theater and set up a performance date for him to just sing and dance his heart out. He wanted to wander to his electric keyboard and work on new music. He wanted to check his email for new casting calls. Just anything... anything work-related, to win back his fans' and the presses' favor.
But no. He had to hold off. At least for another month.
He could have scheduled something with his friends to distract himself from those thoughts. Key words being could have. The problem was, all of his friends were busy.
Alphys and Undyne were off in San Diego attending their first Comic-Con. They offered for him to go with them, but he refused ("Oh, come on, darling. I'd already crossed the threshold of nerd-dom when you dragged me into anime. Don't involve me in the cosplay fandom, too."). Looking back, now he just wanted to pull together a last-minute L from Death Note look and arrange some last-minute tickets to see his friends. Sure, he would be missing the first two days of the con, but he'd still have a chance to spend some quality time with the people that he cared about and in return who cared about him. Alphys was his body's creator-- hell, she was like a big sister to him-- and even if Undyne was a bit much, deep down Mettaton still valued her company as well. But what was said was said. And now they were enjoying cosplay and geeky stuff without him.
He'd asked Frisk if they wanted to come over and hang out with him. He'd offered to take them on exquisite shopping trips and even bought two tickets to see the latest Pixar movie. The hangout almost ended up happening (with no small amount of hyping up done on Mettaton's part), but then ambassadorial duties called. Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk ended up having to travel to Washington, D.C. for a leaders' conference to discuss monster-human relations. When Frisk told Mettaton the news, it put quite the damper on his mood, but they promised that they would hang out some other time. In the meantime, Mettaton found himself resorting to watching the movie with Napstablook. It was a great movie, but Pixar movies being what they were and Napstablook being who they were, the poor ghost had cried the entire time. Mettaton could not even focus on the plot because he was too busy trying to cheer up his cousin with hugs and reassuring words. As he left the theater, he made a mental note to himself never to take Napstablook to a Pixar movie.
He could have hung out with Mews, but she was currently enrolled in a taekwondo class and he was quite hesitant to be around her when she was practicing. Which turned out to be all the time.
With the severe lack of people for him to hang out with, Mettaton spent the entire day -- actually, the entire week -- alone and bored.
He thought once or twice about going out in public, maybe to a park or a restaurant. After all, whether one was a human or a monster, a little fresh air never hurt the soul. But even if he put on a disguise and/or surrounded himself with bodyguards, the human paparazzi were still liable to hound him and ask intrusive questions. They were annoying like that.
What did it matter to him what his life was like, who he was dating, et cetera? Yes, he was famous, but he did not owe them a place in his life. All that mattered was that he was a performer, a star. He had nothing to prove to anyone.
Or, at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
The truth was, he felt like he had everything to prove to everyone. Specifically, he wanted to prove to everyone that A): he was the brightest star in the world and he was deserving of love and adoration, and B): he was a person; he wasn't just the man, the myth, Mettaton-- despite his wealth and his fame, he lived a life just as normal as every other person--
No. Not a normal life. To him, the word "normal" meant bleak, uninteresting, unchanging... much like his life at the snail farm.
Even as a ghost, he never truly felt understood. He was a restless soul with dreams that extended far beyond the sky-- even the farthest reaches of the universe-- and yet it felt sometimes like few paid any heed to them. The problem with not feeling understood, however, was that it led to him burning his bridges with the people he loved. His cousins didn't understand when he confessed that he wanted to be a star. Wasn't that why he left them behind in the first place...?
No. Stop that, Mettaton.
This kind of thinking was why he had ruined his relationships in the first place. Why Napstablook was so depressed all the time, why his relationship with Alphys was strained...
God, he could be such a jerk sometimes.
After a few minutes, he began to have a headache. He sat up from his supine position on the ground and allowed the darkness and stars around him to fade.
Maybe I am overthinking things, he thought. When everyone gets back from their trips, everything will go back to the way it was. I won't have to spend my entire break overthinking and stressing myself out.
The problem, though, was that even when everything was alright, he still overthought and stressed out.
It was a good thing that he had a multitude of coping mechanisms at his disposal. He could experiment with new fashion looks, read a little, write in his diary...
Actually, the last one didn't sound like that bad an idea.
Mon cher diary,
I'm glad I have you to vent about my troubles. Even when I'm at my most vulnerable, you never judge me for anything. I just wish you were a living person instead of an inanimate object.
I'm supposed to be on break now, but nobody's available for me to hang out with. With the girlfriends at con and the Dreemurrs at a leaders' conference, it's just been me all alone, staying indoors, trying to have fun while avoiding the eye of the paparazzi...
I wish I had more friends to hang out with. People who understand me, who won't take advantage of me, who identify with my struggles.
But that's just wishful thinking, isn't it? It's hard to be friends with a celebrity.