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What a sorry sight he ought to be, practically dragging himself through the castle like that. Felt fitting, what with how he’d clearly screwed up. Why else would Asgore wave him off like that when before he’d looked so eager to see his next show? Had to be it, nothing else made sense.
Sighing deep, Yellow cast a brief glance over towards the cafe, tempted by the allure of drowning his sorrows in juice, then forced himself to turn the other way.
Sure, he’d promised to fit in some more practice, and a cowboy never broke his promises, only…he just wasn’t enthused. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what pep-talks he pulled from the dirt or how many times he felt along the trigger of his pistol in search of an itch, his heart simply could not be roused to action. One last ditch effort was made upon unlocking the yellow door, eyeing the targets he'd set up hours earlier, aaaaand nada. The sadness had well and truly won out.
Briefly did he stop at the water’s edge to peer down at his reflection, debated removing his hat and leaving it for someone more worthy of being called a cowboy, debated on something much worse beyond that, then continued on before his upset brain could follow through. Couldn’t fulfill his promise if he went and did something stupid. Also couldn’t fulfill it if he kept on like this, though.
It was mighty selfish of him to want Blue’s attention for something so pathetic, but he found his legs bringing him to the stage anyway. A couple Sheary lingered in a corner rather than at one of the backstage tables, lending the impression that a rehearsal was either on the horizon or had just wrapped up. Still, not willing to run the risk of intruding, Yellow kept his steps soft as he crept up towards the stairs and peeked through the curtain.
And there he was. Blue crouched low on the stage, ripping up x-marked pieces of masking tape and tossing the balled-up bits into a little pile off to the side. Deep in thought, he picked at the fresh roll dangling around his wrist, muttered something, then shook his head and looked further down the stage to where three other x’s sat, then further still as he finally spotted Yellow lurking at the curtains. In an instant his posture changed, his task postponed in favour of sitting properly.
Guilt tightened Yellow’s chest, but it was powerless against the force of a single gesture from Blue, a little come over flick of his wrist. He was up the steps without another moment’s hesitation.
“No luck?” Blue called.
“Nope.” When Blue opened his arms, Yellow took the invitation readily, all but collapsing onto his lap and hugging him with a big ‘ol sigh. Another, softer one followed when hands began carding through his hair.
“It’ll be all right, dear.”
Moping never helped anyone, but with Blue, it felt okay to be just a little bit more vulnerable. One of Yellow's arms unwound itself from Blue’s waist to remove his hat, setting it on the ground beside them so he could hide his face in the fluff of the tutu. “Jus’...can’t help worryin’ ’s not gonna be enough. ‘Speshully if I go ‘n muck it up like I done did.”
“How have you ‘mucked it up’? Did something happen?”
That was the worst part, wasn’t it? He just didn’t know. He should have known, yet all he could do was shrug.
The hand on his head found its way down to the back of his neck, wrapping the hair there around one finger and smoothing it out again. Blue hummed. “Oh, Yellow, you need not torment yourself so. You’ve done and will continue to do plenty of good for us all.” A pause. “...but do know you’re not alone in your worry.”
Blinking back tears, Yellow rolled his entire body to look up at him. “Really? You too?”
“Of course. With every passing moment, each of us strives to do our best for the sake of our dreams, and for Asgore. Holding such lofty goals, it’s only natural that doubt would follow.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Yellow’s forehead, thumb rubbing along the blue mark left behind. “Keep heart, my love.”
The knots between his ribs began to unravel, his next breath feeling easier, lighter. The way Blue could chase off a person’s demons with just a few pretty words was nothing short of pure magic, as awe-inspiring as any of his actual spells. “...sure hope you’re right ‘bout it bein’ alls right,” Yellow murmured after a minute of basking in the affection. His lips twisted into a complicated shape, still too low to be a smile, but not quite a frown. “Then again, you’ve never bin wrong.”
Rumbling a quiet chuckle, Blue leaned down for another kiss, one which Yellow met halfway. “In the meantime…why don’t you regale me with your latest tale? If it was ready for presentation, then you’ve made progress since I last heard.”
Just like that, the clouds darkening the better part of his mind parted, and it was all but impossible not to smile. “There ain’t that much more to it, just a hole ‘er two patched up.” He scratched his cheek, suddenly shy. “But if y’aint busy…”
The roll of tape was promptly tossed over Blue’s shoulder, landing somewhere far behind him with an unimportant sound.
That was all the encouragement he needed. “Whelp!” And then his hands were up, index fingers and thumbs angled to capture a frame. “Y’know how the last one ended with that biiiiiig canyon, right? Well…” and he was off to the races, recounting the next chapter in his ongoing cowboy saga beat by beat, his hands serving as his makeshift actors until he noticed the shadows they cast upon the stage from one of Blue’s spotlights, and changed tack to a shadow puppet show.
By the time Yellow reached the end, and Blue claimed one of his hands to kiss and sing praises into, he’d forgotten all about why he was sad in the first place.
He’d already been prepared should Asgore turn him down, the dance just as much for himself as it was for anyone else. Still, after the fourth, fifth, sixth rejection, it was growing difficult to ignore the sting of disappointment.
Once safe from the gazes of others, Blue dropped from his toes, hand bracing against the wall to rotate and massage his ankles. Best to not strain himself needlessly, especially if the effort was to go unappreciated—no, he couldn’t allow such bitter thoughts. A time would come when Asgore would place himself among the rows of filled seats, and until then he must keep his head held high, no matter how heavy it felt in the moment.
And, oh, was it ever heavy.
He couldn’t perform with his thoughts so weighed with doubt. Thus, rather than simply fly back to his studio, he took the long way to help clear his mind, yearning for the sound of running water and sand shifting under his steps. For a room with such a harsh purpose, he found that the “Bad Way,” as they all collectively shorthanded it to, was rather relaxing. Well, until someone fell into the quicksand and started pleading for help, that was…
Thankfully, Blue found no victims this time. Only Yellow, sitting across the water at the far side of the room, furiously polishing a spot on the toe of his boot, checking it, and polishing some more. The sheer focus in his gaze, the jut of his lip…even from afar, the sight was oddly soothing. Possibly alluring, even, had his thoughts not been so sour.
He wasn’t able to watch for long; Yellow lifted his head, squinting at something else just off to the right (a Floradinn kicking up a cloud of dust with an oddly massive tail, apparently), and immediately perked up upon spotting him instead, waving with his whole arm, cloth included. Hopelessly adorable. Blue returned with a little wave of his own. As he approached though, Yellow’s enthusiasm seemed to taper off, brow furrowing as the arm flopped back into his lap.
“Aw, Blue, what’s gotcha stem all tied up?” His eyes widened, shifting into a crouch. “Wait, was it a criminell?! Do I gotta deliver a justice?!”
Confused, Blue smiled and shook his head. “No, dear, there’s nothing at the moment that warrants such courageous action.”
“Oh.” Yellow sat back down, wiping his hands off on the rag and dropping them over his boots. “Then…what’s wrong? ‘s not like you t’ look so drooped.”
Blue followed Yellow’s line of sight down until…ah. His head had been so deep in the fog of rejection, he’d neglected to return to being en pointe entirely, the full-footed tracks left in his wake betraying more of his mood than he liked. How unfortunate, he much would’ve preferred to not stress Yellow with such trivial matters. But if they weighed on his heart to such a degree where it made him so careless, could they truly be called “trivial?” Regardless, there was no point in trying to play it off, so he sat down next to Yellow without a word, tucking his legs to the side under his tutu, and fully leaned his weight against him when Yellow’s arm scooped him closer.
“Did Asgore not like your dance?” Yellow prompted, then scoffed and waved a hand. “Pshaw, that’s crazy talk. ‘Course he liked it!”
A pause as he considered how much to share at once. He kept it simple. “Asgore hasn’t seen it yet.”
Yellow tilted his head. “No? Why’s that?”
“Just as we hold our dreams close, he, too, has a goal he strives to achieve. But his pursuits have left him little availability to look elsewhere, as I’m sure you’re well aware.” He shrugged. “There was simply no time.”
“Oh…”
The hand around his waist squeezed. Blue took it as an invitation, one he gladly accepted as he dropped his head to rest upon Yellow’s shoulder. He smiled when he felt Yellow’s temple press lightly against his hair in return. His eyes fell shut, he breathed deep the scents of sand and boot oil.
For a time silence settled between them, until, all at once, Yellow seemed to come to a decision, head rising to gaze off into the distance with resolution set in his brow. Blue placed his hand upon Yellow’s leg in case he tried to hop up and run off somewhere. But he didn’t need to.
“Then I’lls be the one to watch your dance, Blue,” Yellow declared suddenly, turning to make direct eye contact, deathly serious.
The surge of emotion was so overwhelming, so jarring against the quiet, Blue had to laugh. Just one sentence, and the weight was melting away. “Yellow, you already watch me dance. In fact, you’ve borne witness to this particular choreography right from its inception.”
“Yup, and I’ll watch it over ‘n over again, a hundreds millions times, ‘til it makes up for Asgore missin’ out.” A fist thumped his chest. “Promise.”
Well, how could he possibly say no to that? “Oh, Yellow…your passion is truly a sight to behold.” Blue rose from his spot against Yellow’s side, allowing himself a quick stretch before taking position a few steps away.
As he got himself comfortable, ready to watch a story he surely knew inside and out by now, Yellow’s gaze trailed back down towards Blue’s feet. “Y’sure this’ll be fine? Sand’s kinda slippery, ain’t it? Could always move.”
He laughed again, softly. “A little sand is of no concern to me. But if you’re worried…” Then he sprang backwards, clouds puffing under his feet before he could hit the water, preening at the quiet gasp from Yellow. That would never get old.
Dancing over the water…ooh, hang on, he was getting ideas. Perhaps the performance he’d rehearsed could wait; best to strike while the iron was hot. “Actually…would you mind if I tried something else, dear?”
“Somethin’ else?” Yellow echoed. “Well, ‘course. ‘f that’s what’n you want.”
Smiling, Blue shut his eyes and allowed inspiration to guide his movements in a tale told from scratch, his body lighter than air, his thoughts solely focused upon the most wonderful spectator he’d ever been blessed to meet.