Work Text:
It's late when his phone rings. At first, Navy is annoyed. Then he realizes what ringtone is playing. It's the piano medley cover of one of the tracks from your favorite game. He doesn't lunge for the phone, but it's a near thing. A look at the screen shows that it's 2 am. He accepts the call without hesitation.
"Hello? he husks out, voice groggy from sleep. There's a headache blooming in his skull. He searches blindly for his 'librarian glasses,' as you call them, slipping the comforting half-moon lenses on his skull. The chain attached to the glasses keeps them from slipping off.
"N-navy?" You ask with a trembling voice. You've been crying. Again.
"I'm here," he assures while searching for the string to his lamp. Navy doesn't take his eye off the phone like he'll miss something if he does.
"Uhm, I'm sorry it's really late," your laugh has no warmth, "I can call in the morning, sorry." Triumphantly, Navy yanks on the lamp's chain. His room floods with light, and he rests against the headboard.
"It's fine. I meant it when I said you could call anytime."
You choke on your words. It sounds close to a sob. "Right, yeah. Uhm, can we talk... about anything? 'm not picky."
Navy wishes you were picky. It would make your life so much easier. Then he wouldn't have to pick up the pieces Red shatters. You could be happy. Even if it's not with him. Yeah, he doesn't think about you dating someone else for long. It's an unpleasant thought that makes his soul squirm. He's gotten attached. Sue him.
"Well, if you need a distraction, I saw this book I thought you might like...."
___
You and Navy hang up when the sun rises. The tears on your face have long dried, and you're in a good mood for once. Lingering tiredness in your body be damned. Red doesn't come back until lunch, thirty minutes before you have to go to work. It bothers you, even if you try not to let it show. You used to love him so much... now you just ache inside. All the time.
Last night you'd argued about something stupid, but it always went back to the core issues in your relationship. The ones Red avoids like the plague.
Is it normal to feel... unwanted when you're around someone you sleep in the same bed with? A voice in your head that sounds an awful lot like Navy argues no, it's not normal.
Red looks like he'd rather be bar crawling; or anywhere else, really. You avoid looking at the new stains on his sweater. It could be mustard, or puke, or somebody's bodily fluid. You still don't look. It's better not to know. He sighs and prods his sneaker into the carpet like an admonished school kid. "Sweetheart, I-"
"Nope," you frown and put on your shoes with more force than necessary. "I don't want to hear it. Come back when you mean it."
He doesn't follow when you shut the door. Doesn't even look back. He just stares at the carpet like it'll give him the answers to the universe.
Spoiler alert: it doesn't.
___
Navy and you have an honest friendship. It's simultaneous the happiest and worst he's felt in years. His universe didn't allow this type of openness and vulnerability without risk. The closest thing he had to a friend was the Alphys and Undyne in his universe, but that was because there was clear understanding. No one got attached.
At least, that's what everyone pretended. Safer that way.
Alphys was the antsy sort, nervous and running from attention like a cockroach when someone flicks a light switch. Navy could relate. She was very clear that there was no interest in him from the get-go. He and she met in college. It was a professional situation, but Navy was always cautious. One slip up, any sort of hint that her feelings went deeper than he wanted them to, and he'd be halfway to waterfall.
Undyne was uh, a rough sort. She'd made herself as fierce as possible to keep people away from her. It'd worked, for the most part. She and Papyrus met at school. He'd been alone, and she needed somewhere to sit. After months passed, the two of them could say a few sentences together without feeling too paranoid. They'd arm-wrestled once. Nothing happened between them. Papyrus made his first friend. Even if he couldn't call her that, not even to himself for fear it'd be heard.
Kids were supposed to be the safest, but there was no escape from the anxieties always present.
Navy had gotten very good at reading people. Everyone back there was lying about something; the person they were obsessed with, how the social climate didn't bother them, or that they weren't lonely. God, Navy used to be so lonely. Papyrus... was the one person he had for a long time. Hell, it's the only connection he knew he could rely on entirely before the universes got tangled up.
Sometimes he catches himself looking at the clock, watching for the second school would let out. An old habit. Underground, he'd always be punctual, quick to make sure Papyrus was unaccosted and in one piece. Only at home could they loosen the reigns.
Papyrus had always been cool. That's why it was a damn shame Navy couldn't let him show it.
___
The day is bright. Stunningly so. Navy is loathe to trade his usual sweater for a shirt, but he does anyway. The stirring in the soul when you look at the rarely seen bones on display has nothing to do with it. Nope.
You'd mentioned wanting to hang out somewhere with fresh air. He'd suggested a picnic. The way you looked at him when he made plans with you felt like a divine gift. You'd been so happy that someone had wanted to spend time with you.
"Hey," he greets. You give him a cute wave, fingers fluttering just like his soul.
"Navy," you beam. "Hey." With a pat to the bench, you indicate that you want him to sit next to you. Settling into your presence has never been easier. God, he can breathe so much better now. Even without lungs.
"I brought the goods," he winks and flourishes a picnic basket straight out of his inventory. "Do you-" A ringtone startles him. You sheepishly answer your phone, mouthing a quick sorry to Navy.
"Hello?" You ask in your best customer service voice. Navy soaks in your being like fine wine. He's got it bad. There's a grating sound coming over the line plain as day. Must be Edge. Navy feels for him, even if Red is a dick. He knows what it's like to not know where his brother is. You'd been checking up on him regularly for a few weeks now. It's cute how you act like siblings.
"Ah, okay. Thanks for letting me know." Your tone is calmer, less forced. Navy bathes in the sight of your shoulders relaxing. How is everything you do admirable? The line goes dead, and you pocket your phone. Edge is no-nonsense. Unless he's lonely, then his emotional constipation makes him dance around questions like, 'Can I sit near one of you until my soul feels less hollow?'
"Good news?" Navy asks.
"Yeah, my missing package got delivered to his house on accident. Two days late." It's not a barb to the mail service, just an observation. There's no venom in how you speak. Navy feels his soul drop a weight he hadn't known it was holding until it was gone.
Red hasn't shown up yet.