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Tonight was the night.
Papyrus sat in the audience before the stage that Mettaton was about to perform on. Monsters around him were already booing or shouting at Mettaton to get on with the show. The skeleton stayed silent. It was the first time he’d ever actually been in the audience; most of the time he watched recordings of Mettaton’s shows in the dead of night, when he wouldn’t be seen.
People were definitely taking note of his presence, glancing at him repeatedly and whispering to their neighbors. But Papyrus didn’t care. He was well beyond caring at this point. Ages ago, he never would have dared to come to a live Mettaton show, but he’d finally decided that what other people thought didn’t matter anymore. Or at least it didn’t matter as much as letting Mettaton know that someone cared about him.
For about a year, Papyrus had been sneaking off to Hotland every time Mettaton was going to have a show and leaving small gifts and letters addressed to the robot just inside Dr. Alphys’s laboratory. He had not left his name on anything, for fear that someone else might find the letters and use them against him, and—though he didn’t like admitting it—because he feared rejection. So he’d been signing the letters with a simple “your secret admirer.”
He was banking on Dr. Alphys having passed on everything to Mettaton—otherwise, the confession he was planning on making to the robot tonight would seem quite out of the blue.
Papyrus had nearly chickened out of his plan twice now—once before leaving his house to come to the show, and again before entering the theater—but he’d managed to convince himself that Mettaton could use the confidence boost, even if he didn’t return Papyrus’s feelings. He’d at least know that the letters and gifts weren’t a cruel joke, that at least one person appreciated what he was trying to bring to the Underground.
The lights of the theater dimmed, and Mettaton rolled onto the stage, greeting the audience with what Papyrus knew was entirely false cheer. The booing from the monsters got louder, but Mettaton plowed on, welcoming the contestants for his quiz show.
Two monsters stood at podiums on opposite sides of the stage. A large screen came down behind Mettaton, which he stated would show the questions.
“Alright, let’s start with some easy questions to warm us up. First one: Who were the champions of the first Nose-Nuzzling Competition in 1998?”
The monster on the right side of the stage immediately hit the button in front of him.
“Yes?” Mettaton asked eagerly.
“Could be you n’ me if you wanna reinstate the competition, babe,” the monster said, then laughed uproariously.
“Th-That is not the correct answer,” Mettaton stammered.
The other monster called out, “Damn, I was just gonna say the same thing!”
The audience was jeering at Mettaton now. Though the robot did not have a face, Papyrus could imagine that he would be close to tears if he did. The thought nearly brought Papyrus to tears. He wanted to stop this awful harassment, but his reputation would be on the line…
“Can—do either of you actually know the answer?” Mettaton pleaded.
“Who cares? This whole thing is stupid. I had my fun, I’m outta here,” the monster on the right said as he stepped away from the podium.
“W-Wait—”
A flying Glamburger interrupted Mettaton by smashing into his screen. The robot’s four arms lifted to cover his front, and he dashed offstage, other food bits following his departure.
Papyrus felt something snap.
“ENOUGH!” he roared as he launched up from his seat. The audience quieted in record time, staring at the skeleton in fear.
“Don’t you understand what he’s trying to do? He wants to bring you hope! He wants to bring a little light into your lives, and this is how you thank him?”
“You can’t tell me you actually care about—” someone began.
“Well, I do! And I’m sick of pretending I don’t, and sick of caring what people like you think about me!” Papyrus raged. “Take it as weakness if you want. I don’t give a shit, because I know I can protect myself and everyone I love. And if you want to find that out the hard way?” He spread his arms. “Well, be my guest!”
Not a single monster moved.
“I knew none of you would have the guts to challenge me. You’ll only pick on the people who can’t or won’t defend themselves, like Mettaton.” Papyrus glared over the audience. “You all make me sick. I’m leaving. Rest assured I won’t be coming back.”
The rush Papyrus had as he stalked out of the theater was like nothing he’d ever felt. Now, if he could just keep it long enough…
He made his way to the backstage area, where Mettaton had a dressing room. He stood in front of the door to that dressing room, feeling the rush trickle away, little by little, and be replaced with anxiety. But there was no way he was backing out of this now, not after all that.
Papyrus knocked on the door.
“Go away!” Mettaton sobbed.
Papyrus didn’t know what to say, so he just knocked again.
This time, the door cracked open. “What, come to make fun…” Mettaton trailed off at the sight of Papyrus, who suddenly realized the drawbacks of being six-foot-nine and very pointy-looking.
Papyrus struggled to keep his voice quiet. “May I speak with you?”
“I don’t even know who you are.” The crack in the door closed slightly.
“I’m Papyrus of the Royal Guard. And…” Papyrus gulped. “Have you been receiving letters or gifts recently?”
Mettaton’s screen went bright for a second. “Yes, I have… Please, come in.”
Papyrus entered the room and looked around as Mettaton closed the door behind them. An open closet full of costumes, mostly yellow and red in color. A large mirror with light bulbs all around. Props and papers scattered about the room. A bit messier than Papyrus would ever keep a space that belonged to him, he thought distractedly.
“So… are you…” Mettaton played with the fingers on the set of hands that wore his red gloves, while the yellow-gloved hands held each other tightly.
“Your secret admirer?” Papyrus wanted desperately to keep facing away from Mettaton, but knew he deserved better than that. He turned and looked Mettaton straight in the screen. “Yes.”
After a few seconds, Mettaton turned to the table under the mirror and picked up a small pile of papers, which Papyrus realized must be…
“You wrote all these letters?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“So… they really aren’t a joke?” Papyrus could hear the disbelief… tinged with just the tiniest bit of hope.
“I could never play such a cruel prank on you,” he said, kneeling down to Mettaton’s level. “I really do think you’re special… I know you have to follow those awful scripts the writers make up for you, but I can tell when you diverge from them. Your sense of humor is so unique, and so are your creative ideas. And the courage you have to keep getting up on that stage, despite what everyone thinks… I honestly think you’re braver than I am.”
“That can’t be true, you’re a Royal Guard…”
“Who didn’t even have the guts to sign his name to the letters he sent you.”
“But you’re here now,” Mettaton said softly.
“After I finally grew some balls, yes.”
Mettaton chuckled. Then he appeared to glance over the letters. “I was so afraid they were fake at first,” he murmured. “But they kept coming… I didn’t want to hope, but I think I did anyway.” He looked at Papyrus. “I don’t know you from Asgore, but… I’d like to believe what you say is true. It’s just… a lot to take in right now.”
“I don’t expect you to return my feelings,” Papyrus said quickly. “I mean, it’d be nice, but you’re right, you don’t know me, and… I only know you from the stage.” He cracked his knuckles nervously. “Maybe, we can just hang out? Be friends, and see where it goes from there?”
Mettaton hugged the letters to his body. “I think I’d like that very much.”
“Then I’ll leave you my phone number.” Papyrus picked up a random paper, found a pen, and wrote out the number. “I’ll let you contact me first.” He straightened and held out a hand to Mettaton. “Please don’t give up. I know I can’t be the only one who appreciates your talent.”
Mettaton grabbed Papyrus’s hand… and pulled him into a hug. Though it shocked Papyrus, he was able to lift his arms and embrace the robot back.
“Thank you, darling. I look forward to… hanging out.”
“Oh, uh, of course. Me, too.”
Papyrus left the theater that night feeling lighter than air.