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It turns out, pink bleeds through everything as well as red does.
Napstablook could remember a time when they liked the color pink. It had been soft, sweet, comforting–complementary, contrasted. Swirls and blurs here and there, backed by blue, standing out and shimmering like a spectral supernova.
But now, now when everything—everything, including the monsters themselves, flushed magenta like there are invisible collars choked around their necks–was pink, sweating, searing pink, Napstablook was finding themselves to be getting exhausted by it all. No matter where they lay, no matter how long they tried to phase away, sink into the synth and snuff out the rest of the world around them, the blasting color of the pink blossomed before their eyes and burned them deep.
They wandered now, mostly, absently searching for relief from the insistent shade that snowed, dripped, and scalded its way through the world, its spread maddened by the soul of the Underground’s new king as it twisted into every last one of the subjects remaining subdued and smiling under his rule.
All, save for Napstablook.
Inevitably, the ghost would find no relief from their wanderings about the hued Underground and would return, to the new king’s home; blasted glitter reflecting off the finely hewn stones and forcing the tiny ghost to squint as they floated through the dead halls and empty mirrored staircases to the topmost bedchamber—guarded, now, by nothing save fear of a frenzied and the weighted shield of despair. As well as several, large, padlocked chains, which meant nothing to ghosts.
Napstablook wiggled through the door with ease, phasing out onto the other side even as their soul grew so thick they could swear it would drop out of them, any moment—something that might be embarrassing, maybe even tear-worthy if it were possible, or if the bedchamber was clean enough to make a difference, instead of cluttered with shapes and shadows and piecemeal of pink.
Napstablook floated over to the bed, inhabited by a lump of magenta comforters that they knew hid their cousin. Sighing softly, the ghost patted the blanket with their nubby arms.
“M-Metta? It’s me….can I?” They ventured, waiting until the fabric shifted slightly and groaned in response. The ghost phased through the wall of blankets into the warm, dark cave their cousin had constructed for himself.
The luminesce of their body met with the faltering glimmer of their cousins soul on the soft underfolds of the blankets. Little round lilac stalactites in the cave Mettaton had made for himself.
Mettaton’s eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, brighter now with the reflection of Napstablook’s ectoplasm shining in their depths. His hair was matted against one side of his face, scattered against the skin like cracks. Napstablook didn’t have to guess that their cousin had again spent most of his day in bed. That was how it went, usually.
“Blooky….” Mettaton whispered softly, his arms coming up to carefully touch his cousin’s small body. Napstablook grew less translucent, allowing their cousin to touch their form as best as they could do. After all, they were still a ghost.
Mettaton drew his cousin in a careful, shaky hug, hands running up and down Napstablook’s back as he softly kissed his cousin on the top of their head. Napstablook reached out as far as they could with their tiny arms, softly touching Mettaton’s gilded chestplate.
“How….how was your day, Metta…?” It was a stupid question, Napstablook realized as soon as they had asked it, but before they could retract it Mettaton was already replying.
“Not…not too bad, darling. I was just…I was just feeling tired again, and I only wanted to stay inside…I adore my public, but…well, even the most steadfast of lovers need some time apart now and again, don’t they?”
Napstablook nodded. Lately Mettaton was always tired. He barely ever got out of his room, let alone his bed. The chains on the room almost always remained locked. Napstablook wasn’t even sure that Mettaton remembered they were there most of the time, with the infrequency of his roams about the castle.
It was probably for the best, in any case. There wasn’t much to be seen outside of the castle, anyway. A world awash in pink, monsters floating around with smiles plastered on their faces….it wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Mettaton wouldn’t like it, though it was his creation. It was better this way, better for him to be in here, where he was safe.
“I know….the…the public misses you….Mettaton…”
“I…I guess….they do….they must….” Mettaton trailed off. Napstablook looked up to see a distant look in their cousin’s eyes.
“Oohhh….ohh, Blooky…oh, darling….I’ve been bad….haven’t I?”
“It’s okay.”
“Oh…” Mettaton brought his face close, whispering as if he were sharing a secret, “But it’s not, isn’t it.”
“No…Metta…it’s okay….I promise….everything’s okay…”
“You mean it?”
“Yes…..”
Mettaton looked at his cousin for a long moment, dull pink eyes searching the ghost’s guileless features. Finally, carefully, the robot pulled at the hems of his blanket cavern and tugged them up and over his head, scooting out of the cocoon that he had made for himself, Blooky still tucked in his arms.
The robot was still wearing his regal pink robe, though it was crumpled up in places and the white fur around the collar had been tousled and stroked in the wrong direction. A small glance to the side told Napstablook that Mettaton had left his crown on the carved nightstand next to his bed, but the ghost couldn’t find any sight of the king’s scepter.
“Where is your scepter?”
“I…I threw it somewhere.”
“Why….?”
Mettaton’s eyes glowed brighter for a brief moment, before dimming back.
“I don’t remember…”
Napstablook frowned, eyes casting downwards. They carefully wormed out of Mettaton’s arms, giving his head a shaky pat before they began to search within the clutter of the room, disappearing under one pile and emerging out of the other. Mettaton always felt better when he had his full king’s regalia on. It made him feel special, beloved.
In a pile of discarded costumes, Napstablook’s tiny hands finally found the golden scepter, tucked under a lilac satin dress with singe marks at the cuffs. They had just managed to dig it out when suddenly they heard a loud, metallic thunk.
Mettaton had made an attempt to get out of bed, but he had been off balance, or his legs had given out, or something, because all Napstablook could see was their cousin tangled in a mess of blankets. The little ghost zoomed over, worming under Mettaton’s hooked arms and floating upwards so their cousin could get back onto the bed. The robot huffed, sensors whirring as he tried to recalibrate himself. Mettaton laughed breathily, patting Napstablook on their head as he settled back onto the mattress.
“We should…ooh….we should get Alphys…To get me some more batteries. ‘Fraid these ones are losing their touch, d-darling? Must be in….tip top shape….for my…public…”
Napstablook nodded.
“Okay……okay Metta. I’ll……next time I go out….I’ll….talk to her. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I promise…Metta…”
“Oh, Blooky…” Mettaton’s face softened, expression like a child as he cupped Napstablook’s ghostly cheeks in his hands, “My sweet, darling, you do so much for me…” He leaned in and kissed the ghost between their eyes, pulling back and smiling.
“When you see…Alphys, you should ask her about getting yourself a body like mine. I’m sure she would make one for you Blooky. She did such a f-fabulous job with me.”
“Okay, I will….I promise….” The ghost pulled on the edge of the covers with their tiny arms, draping it over their cousin’s body. It was probably better for Mettaton to spend today in bed. Maybe tomorrow he could try walking around, with Napstablook’s help.
Mettaton laid his head back against his pillow, lolling it idly to the side as a smile flitted across his face.
“You’ll love it Blooky…..ooh…..it’ll be fabulous. Being human is fabulous.”
——-
Mettaton didn’t want to get up the next day either. His legs wobbled even before he had put any weight on them, so Napstablook had decided to just let it alone and have their cousin rest.
They spent their own day floating about the Underground, listlessly passing through rock walls, lava flows, and waterfalls alike. They searched through the garbage dump nearby their old home, in hope that the batteries that Mettaton needed had somehow fallen down from the surface, but all they found were old, waterlogged CDs and thin, rotting books.
Napstablook was surprised when, upon their return, they found Mettaton standing up in the middle of the room. His back was facing Napstablook, and he looked hunched, curled over, but he was standing. Napstablook couldn’t remember the last time that they had seen their cousin on his feet.
“M….Mettaton….!” Napstablook murmured as they glided forward, “Y….you’re standing up…..you’re standing….”
Napstablook, in their elation at seeing their cousin standing, patted the robot on the back. However, they were thrown away as Mettaton whirled around, his heavy cape fanning in a weighty arc around his body.
Napstablook’s happiness instantly drained from their body as they saw their cousin in full. Mettaton’s face…it was twisted, broken in anger, in grief the likes of which Napstablook had never seen cross his features. One gloved hand gripped a dagger—glinting silver steel, a golden handle inlaid with bright pink stones–and the other absently kneaded at the air.
“Stay….stay away….stay away from me…” Mettaton growled, eyes fixed on Napstablook, “You….you go….go away….”
Napstablook winced, trying to fight back the tears that sprung at the corner of their eyes at such harsh words. They couldn’t cry now, not when Mettaton was in such a state.
“M…Mettaton….it’s okay…it’s okay….just…just put it down….get into bed, M-Mettaton, please…”
“You want me gone! You want me gone like everyone else does! Everyone else who is…is…ungrateful for everything I’ve done for them! Everything I’ve done to make their life….fabulous!”
Mettaton snarled, showing his fangs as he lunged. His legs faltered halfway through his mad leap and he fell, still managing to catch his frantic cousin underneath him. Giggling madly, the king raised the knife above him, bringing it down in a vicious arc.
“Die!”
Napstablook wailed, managing to turn translucent only at the last moment as Mettaton’s blade sank through their body, thudding harmlessly into the solid wood floor beneath. Napstablook trembled, just barely preventing themself from fading into the ground and fleeing to the lower floors. They raised their eyes, meeting their cousin’s terrible gaze.
“Y-y-you….you can’t k-k-kill a ghost…Don’t…D-don’t you remember?” Napstablook stuttered, making no move as they stared up at their cousin. Mettaton glared back at them, the mad flame glowing in his eyes, before Napstablook’s words pierced his poisoned skull. The glow dimmed as horror slowly dawned on the robot’s face. He slowly drew his knife out of the floor, rising up straight, Napstablook still pinned between his knees. His wide eyes darted between the knife and his cousin’s form.
His features contorted and a horrible scream leapt off his tainted lips, the knife held dramatically aloft, before it plunged towards the robot’s middle, towards his core.
“No!” It was Napstablook’s turn to cry out as they shot from their prone position, turning opaque in a split second to tackle the armed hand, knocking Mettaton flat on his back as they pinned his forearm to the floor. Napstablook’s tears streamed unbidden from their eyes, spilling over Mettaton’s wrist and soaking into the wood beneath, hardening like liquid glass into a shackle that held his cousin’s fearful will to the floor.
“P-please…M-etta…let go of it, let go of it….”
They watched Mettaton’s fingers curl, twitching spasmodically around the knife’s jeweled hilt before he finally did let it go, finger by finger until his hand opened, lying against the floor like a dying spider. The blade clunked to the side.
Napstablook trembled, their eyes fixed on the still knife. They could feel more tears coming from their eyes, dribbling over onto the floor. It took them a couple of minutes to stop, and by then the glassy liquid had spread all over the wood, probably seeping between the cracks to the bottom floor.
They shakily turned their head to look back at their cousin, and when they did the tears almost returned. Mettaton looked at them with blank, dead eyes that didn’t seem to see much of anything at all. For a heart-stopping moment, Napstablook thought that their cousin had run out of batteries completely, but they saw the robot’s stained lips quiver ever so slightly.
“…S….Sorry…..Bl…..Blooky….”
—–
Mettaton made no effort to get out of his bed after that. Most days, he never even spoke to Napstablook, who spent their entire time by Mettaton’s side. It was like his cousin was in a stupor, only tossing and turning on occasion, his eyes sparking up with life before dimming back down. Any words that their cousin said were too low and staticky to be heard properly, though Napstablook was sure that hearing their cousin speak while in this state would not be heartening. With nothing else to be done, Napstablook would tuck themself into their cousin’s arms, feeling warm and safe every time he felt that slight, reassuring squeeze from the robot.
One day, Napstablook was up trying to organize some of the clutter flung about Mettaton’s room, when they heard a small, tinny noise coming from the bed.
“Blooky?”
Napstablook fluttered over to their cousin’s bed, lowering themself on to the sheets by their cousin’s form. Mettaton’s eyes were glowing stronger than they had been for the past few days, though they dimmed slightly every few seconds, irregular in their pulse.
“What it is, Metta? Do you feel all right?”
Mettaton nodded, rolling his head over to look at Napstablook. The ghost shivered–for the first time in forever, they could see some of that old sparkle within their cousin’s eyes.
“O-ooh…oh, Blooky, Blooky I can hear it, I can hear it…”
“…..Hear what?”
Metatton’s eyes were bright and alive, a small smile creeping across his face.
“The universe…oh, Blooky, I can hear the universe…..again….after all this time…”
Napstablook tipped their head for a moment, staring deep into Mettaton’s eyes, the simple sincerity in their cousin’s face. Mettaton’s tongue flitted across his lips.
“You…remember…so long ago, darling, when we would lay down on the floor together and listen to the universe…remember…it’s the…haha…f-fa…”
“Family tradition.” Napstablook finished for him. Mettaton nodded, his crazed smile growing wider.
“Yes, yes! Family tradition…you remember…you always remembered…”
“I always remembered you.” Napstablook said softly as their tiny arms held onto one of Mettaton’s. The robot’s fingers curled feebly around the little nub.
“Blooky…will you…please, darling?”
Wordlessly, Napstablook laid themself down next to their cousin, snuggling up as close as they could to the robot’s body as he snaked his arms around their small form. Mettaton grew still, eyes half-lidded as he listened. Napstablook too let themself relax, loosening their hold onto reality before them as their soul phased into the background of the universe. Distantly, they heard Mettaton gasp.
“Ooh…oh Blooky, I can hear it, I can see it, oh…oh Blooky. It’s gorgeous.”
And Napstablook saw too. They could see a big, pink spiral-armed galaxy, faltering in its spatial domain. Its arms curling in upon itself. They could the magnificence, the rich, reflexive beauty of their self-inflicted supernova. The spread of cosmic dust.
It all faded away as the music of the universe ceased its song, and Napstablook, their form held in a limp embrace, began to cry.
—–
The residents of the Underground woke the next morning to find that the pink had receded from every surface, every wall, every creature, left only fading within the cracks and crevices of stone and tile. The cloudy hold on their minds, too, had been washed away with the horrible shade, leaving them clear and clean for the first time in…forever. They picked at their branded clothing and wondered.
In time, they would also wonder about what had come to pass with the royal castle within New Home. The first to come to from their pinked haze and venture to the site found a building encased–the entire structure reflecting in the milky light. Solidly robed in something glassy and faintly luminescent, rendering the castle inaccessible to anyone concrete trying to enter from the outside, When monsters placed their hands upon the surface, they felt vibrations of something deep, deep within–something soft and sorrowful, like a song.