Work Text:
Mikhail wasn’t paying attention to the world hurrying past him. His good ballet shoes pounded against the ground, snapping twigs and crunching leaves in an uncharacteristic display of inelegance. He couldn’t even be a good ballerina…
He wiped his tears away with the heel of his palm as he ran, desperate to escape. His legs ached from running what had to be far too long, and he was in an unfamiliar forest. The bruises on his arms still stung, but he didn’t have time to care. He had to run.
Annoyingly, his tutu kept getting snagged on branches. He considered taking it off, but… That would just be listening to what they'd said, wouldn’t it?
He barely noticed when the ground started turning rockier or began sloping at an incline. He was too preoccupied with just running away from his problems, because he was pathetically weak like that.
One foot after another. One foot after another. One foot after-
“Hey! Yer not s’pposed to climb here!”
Mikhail tripped, any grace leaving him as he collided with the ground. Ow. He grimaced, hurriedly turning over to inspect himself for injuries. A couple of small scuffs on his legs, he supposed, but… Nothing bad.
He glanced up, suddenly aware of how hard his heart was beating in his chest. “Oh. I’m… sorry… sheriff?”
The other boy- the one who had yelled at him- had a flushed face that he was struggling to hide behind a cowboy hat. He was dressed in full cowboy garb, and he had a- hopefully fake- gun in his belt.
“I- Um- Are ya alright!?” The cowboy hurried over to him, eyes wide with panic. “I’m so sorry! I’m a criminell for hurtin’ ya…”
“I tripped. It’s fine.” Mikhail forced a smile because this boy was just confusing and he didn’t feel very safe whatsoever. How long until this one started kicking him for being too soft, too girly?
The boy shook his head fervently. “I went and distracted you! I oughta be punished for hurtin’ such a pretty boy…”
Mikhail’s face was suddenly burning. “Pardon!?”
“Now I went and done gave you an inappropriate compliment… I deserve the worst criminell’s justice…”
“It’s fine. Really.” Mikhail found himself smiling despite not meaning to. “My name’s Mikhail. What’s yours?”
“Clover.” The cowboy announced, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Is this private property?” Mikhail frowned, dusting off his tutu before pushing himself to stand up. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s… not that.” Clover scratched the back of his neck. “It’s more like, well… Ain’t nobody who climbs Mt Ebott comin’ back, y’know?”
Mikhail tensed up. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Is this the part where my dashing hero reveals he’s a serial killer?”
“No, no, no! Never! Ya musta heard the stories, right? Anyone who climbs Mt Ebott ain’t never seen again. ‘S like a death trap. Ain’t no purdy boys like you deserve death trappin’.”
“Well… amn’t I already on the mountain?” Mikhail pointed out. “And I’m certainly not dead yet.”
Clover frowned. “Ya might trip again.”
“I won’t. I usually have fairly good balance.”
“‘Cuz you’re a ballerina?”
“Precisely.” Mikhail paused. “I have to admit… now I’m curious about what exactly makes this so dangerous.”
“Then I’ll come with ya!” Clover proclaimed. “It’s the least I can do after makin’ ya trip like that!” He paused. “Is your knee ok?”
Mikhail chuckled. “It’s just a few scrapes, dear. I’ve had worse.”
Clover’s golden eyes widened. “Your arm! It’s all bruised up!”
“It’s fine.” Mikhail turned and started walking up the mountain again. Clover paused for a second before following him.
———
“All that here’s a stupid hole.” Clover scoffed. “So much for danger, right?”
Mikhail knelt by the edge, peering down into it. “It does look rather deep.”
“Who’d be dumb enough to fall in there, though?”
Mikhail sighed.
“So… uh… what’re you even doin’ up a mountain in a ballet get-up?” Clover asked gently.
“People… don’t like the fact that I do ballet. I’m not exactly the typical image ballet likes to portray, and, well… people are mean. I just wanted to get away.” Mikhail sighed.
“They hurt ya!? But… But yer exactly what ballet’s like!”
“I’m really not.”
“Ballet’s that purdy thing with all those purdy moves and spins! You’re… um…”
“I suppose.” Mikhail shook his head, rising to his feet. “I suppose… I should head back home.”
“Do you gotta? I, uh… I really’ve been likin’ spendin’ all this time with ya, and…”
Sweet. “I wish I could stay with you forever, too, but life always has other plans.”
Clover sighed. “I s’ppose… you’re real smart…”
“Not really.” He blushed again. “I, well-” A bat fluttered towards them, and he yelped. “Bat!” He grabbed onto Clover’s sleeve, trying to tuck himself behind him.
“Get behind me! I’ll protect ya!” Clover pushed Mikhail behind him, into the hole. Mikhail’s hand was still clutching onto Clover’s sleeve, and they both fell down.
———
Clover awoke to the prettiest boy he’d ever laid his eyes on kneeling beside him. He idly realised his head was on his lap, looking up at the roof of the cave which was unbelievably high up. The memories of the past hour or so aligned in his mind.
“You’re awake!” The pretty boy- Mikhail- beamed, and it was the most beautiful sight Clover’d ever seen. “I was so worried about you! It- It was such a long fall, and- and you weren’t waking up!”
“How’re we alive…?”
“Those golden flowers broke our fall. It’s almost poetic. A simple life, one which some humans have taken as their own to control, catching two humans and freeing them from the expectations of death-”
“I killed ya!?”
Mikhail blinked. “No?”
“I pushed ya down here! I’m really a criminell now!” Clover stumbled away from the other boy. “W-Why, I oughta punish myself! This- This’s more than an injustice, this is-”
“My fault. It’s my fault.” Mikhail stood up, too. “I was the one who got us into this whole mess.”
“I pushed ya!”
“I-”
“I pushed ya. It’s my fault. I should jus’ go off an’ die somewhere where I can’t hurt ya no more…”
Mikhail paused, before interlocking his thumbs to make a butterfly-esque shape over his face. “Mr Butterfly says that you didn’t do anything wrong and you were just trying to help.”
“Well, Mr Butterfly’s wrong!”
“Mr Blue Butterfly is never wrong. He cares very deeply about upholding a strong moral code.”
“But…”
“He says that even if this is scary, at least we have each other to watch the other’s back…?”
Clover took a breath. “I guess he’s got a point there…”
Mikhail put his hands down. “Alright! I saw an archway over there, so we’re probably somewhere with humans nearby! We’ll be out of here before you know it. I promise!”
Clover smiled. “Yeah. Promise.”
———
Mikhail sat on the floor. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but he’d given Clover the bed. Clover had fallen through some leaves and bruised his arm, and Mikhail felt bad. Toriel had been kind enough to provide a room for them, at least. That was more than they could’ve hoped for.
Everything, this whole secret monster civilisation thing, hurt his head. This whole situation was scary. But, on the plus side… At least he wasn’t alone.
Leaning back on the floor, he inspected the ribbon he’d found. Its bright red colour was still vibrant, but the edges were frayed. It wasn’t too old, or too new. That, alongside the toy knife Clover had found and thrown away, and the rumours about Mt Ebott… didn’t bode well.
It was fine. Clover would protect him from anything really dangerous. Clover was strong like that.
———
This new snowy area was cold. Mikhail couldn’t bring himself to worry about the fact that they’d snuck away from Toriel while she was busy and probably broken her heart when he was freezing. Ballet costumes tended to be designed to look pretty, not functional.
He power walked through it, because there wasn’t much else to do. Clover seemed to be baring fine, but Clover also seemed a little more well built, plus his clothes were far more practical, and he had that vest and that hat…
“I should’ve worn my legwarmers to practice.” He huffed, despite knowing that that wouldn’t help much.
Clover jolted. “Ya must be freezin’! Yer shakin’ like a leaf…”
“It’s fine. There must be an end to this snow eventually, somewhere.” Mikhail sighed, turning away to walk again.
Clover’s cowboy jacket was suddenly slung around his shoulders. “You ain’t doin’ no ballet if you’re a popsicle, Bluebell.”
Well, at least Mikhail’s face was warm now. He’d sure hope it would be with all the blood rushing to it. “A nickname?”
“Ah! I’m sorry, I-”
“It’s alright, darling. I like it.” Was it possible for his face to get any hotter?
“D-Darlin’!?” Clover looked close to fainting. “Me?!”
“Yes, you, darling.” Mikhail teased.
“G-Golly…”
“Come on. There don’t seem to be many puzzles here, so we’ll be out of here before you know it!” Mikhail grabbed Clover’s hand.
“And… how’re you so sure about that one?”
Mikhail paused, tapping his foot on the ground before dropping Clover’s hand and interlinking his again. “Mr Butterfly told me!”
“He’s a real know-it-all, ain’t he?”
“Mr Butterfly is no such thing.” Mikhail shook his head, frowning. “He’s just really cool like that.”
“I’ll take yer word for it, Bluebell.”
“Stop!” Mikhail brought his interlocked hands up to cover his face again. “You’ll make Mr Butterfly blush!”
“Hm… Pretty sure it ain’t just Mr Butterfly blushin’, bluebell.”
Oh. Oh no. Mikhail liked Clover. And… he was pretty sure Clover liked him, too…
———
Clover was a criminal for how much he liked Mikhail. Mikhail deserved better than a half-baked cowboy, but… Clover really liked him. He really liked the way he hid his laugh behind his hands when Clover bought him an ice cream with some G he’d gotten from a spared monster, or the way he looked with a dot of ice cream on his nose. He really liked the way he blushed, and the way he looked in his jacket.
He also liked his sad (but cute!!) little expression when he found a cliff face they had to walk over and complained that it would’ve been superior if it had a bridge painted on to it.
(“Seriously! These monsters need to be more creative. They’re all lazy.”
“Bluebell… who’d paint a bridge on a cliff?”
“I would!”)
The actual town of Snowdin was… fine, they supposed. They bought some food mostly just to feel some form of warmth before walking right on.
Mikhail had frowned at a giant empty house with no lights on. “Well, this is a waste of space if I’ve ever seen one.”
“The Royal Scientist lived here before moving to Hotland. Since then, without him, it’s like the town’s fallen.” A bird-like monster explained in rhyme for some reason.
“Okie doki!” Clover grinned before tugging Mikhail away.
“Could’ve turned it into a church, or something at least.” Mikhail huffed.
“Yer religious?”
“...My family are.” He replied instead of answering the question.
“I’m pretty neutral on that whole thin’. Either someone exists or someone doesn’t, ya know?”
Mikhail smiled. “You’re right. Now, come on, I heard someone say the next area was filled with waterfalls!”
———
They’d taken a break from the walking, so Mikhail decided that now was the best time to split off and try to find a spot to practice. He didn’t want to get rusty, did he?
He started with warm-ups, which was harder said than done without a barre bar, but he made do. Once he felt sufficiently stretched, he started going through some routines. Simple ones at first as he regained his footing and adjusted to rocks rather than wood beneath him, then, once he got used to that, he moved onto his more advanced routines.
Ballet was nice, because it didn’t matter if he was far away from home, trapped underground with murderous monsters. The same steps would always follow, the same dance playing out no matter where he was. It was routine, and it made him feel good to float through the air like he was weightless.
The waterfalls crashed in the background, and for the first time, his ballet actually felt like ballet. The movements were fluid and on point- and en pointe, at times- with the waterfalls and the general atmosphere making it feel more… graceful? Graceful. The dim blue lights, the crashing water… it was exactly the stage he’d dreamt of.
It was embarrassingly easy to lose track of time, or to lose track of his surroundings. These two small facts culminated into Mikhail finding himself face to face with Clover mid-pirouette. He tripped over again, surprise getting the better of him, and Clover caught him.
“I’m sorry! I interrupted you, didn’t I!? Golly, I’m a real criminell…”
Their faces were really close together.
“It’s fine. I got distracted.” Stay on task, Mikhail. “Shall we depart?”
“Your dancin’ was real beautyful…”
“I… uh… um… thank you….” His face burned yet again. “Really, we should be-”
Clover kissed him.
Mikhail stared, wide eyed, as Clover pulled away.
“I’m sorry! I’m a real Criminell, kissing ya without askin’ first, but you jus’- I- I’m so sorry, Bluebell-”
Mikhail kissed him back.
———
The two humans giggled as they walked through the long grass, hands intertwined.
“No, you tell me why you’re a cowboy, first!”
“No, you tell me why yer a ballerina, first!”
“No, you tell me why you’re a cowboy, first!”
“No, you tell me why yer a ballerina, first!”
“No, you tell me why you’re a-”
“Humans.” A third, unfamiliar voice interrupted them. They exchanged glances. “I heard you. Don’t bother trying to fight. I’m going to take your SOULs and deliver them to Asgore, and you can’t do anything to stop it.”
Clover glanced worriedly at Mikhail, who gave him a little smile. Why was he smiling??
“Hello!” Mikhail greeted the stranger in armour eagerly. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am!”
The armoured person summoned a spear. “Undyne. My name’s Undyne.”
“That’s a very nice name!” Mikhail took a few steps towards the cliff where she was, standing on his tiptoes- wasn’t there a ballet word for that? Clover didn’t know!- so his head was poking up from the grass. “My name’s Mikha-”
Undyne threw the spear at Mikhail’s leg. Something cracked. His hands flew to his mouth to stifle a scream. Clover grabbed Mikhail and did the only thing he could do. He ran.
———
“Are you okay!?” Clover whispered loudly, pretty sure that that evil monster wouldn’t find them in this bush. Mikhail whimpered weakly in response. Clover was no doctor, but he was pretty sure that legs weren’t meant to have giant holes through them, including through the bone.
“It’s fine. We’re fine.” Clover mumbled, mostly to himself. “Toriel’ll heal you! She… She might be a li’l mad we ran away, but she’s a good person.”
“I thought… I thought we were supposed to be able to befriend everyone. Did she think I was going to attack her?”
“Maybe she’s just a criminell with no taste.”
Mikhail’s jaw clenched, and he started to undo the laces of his ballet shoes.
“Mikhail?”
“Maybe these are intimidating to some people! E-Ergo…” He swallowed a scream as he slipped them off of his damaged leg first. The other shoe came off easier, unsurprisingly. “See? I couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Ya really wanna leave yer shoes?”
He nodded, determined. “I don’t want to scare anyone off. They’re just… slightly expensive shoes. I’ll buy a new pair once we get out of here.”
Clover bit the inside of his cheek. “Alright! We could always come back if ya change yer mind!”
Mikhail smiled, before trying to stand up. Clover immediately picked him up, holding him bridal-style because that felt the most appropriate. “Yer leg’s… not gonna support ya. I know yer used to bein’ on one leg with your ballet and whatnot, but… I don’t want ya hurtin’ yerself, bluebell.”
“...Thank you, Clover.” Mikhail sighed.
———
“Stupid turtle!” Clover cursed, running. Mikhail watched worriedly as the Woshua approached them at an alarmingly fast pace. What happened to turtles being slow?!
“I- I think there’s a space behind that waterfall!” He contributed. “We could hide there!”
Clover obliged. Luckily, there was in fact a space there. They waited for the Woshua to approach them through the waterfall, but it didn’t happen. They were safe, for now.
Mikhail let Clover set him down, using the narrower walls to support him so he could stand, back facing the entrance. Clover faced him.
“You’ll be able to walk again soon.” Clover promised.
“It’s fine. We’re safe, and we’re nearly in Snowdin. We can get more of those cinnamon buns, if you want.” Mikhail smiled
“Y-Yeah. You better let me see more of yer purdy dancin’, got it?”
“As long as you show off some gun tricks, cowboy.”
“Heh, well… if you insist!”
“I do. You know why?”
“Why.”
“Because I love y-” He was cut off by a sword going through his stomach. “O-oh.”
The sword pulled out, and he slumped forwards. The pain turned into a haze, which was probably not good.
He stared at the anthropomorphic dog that had just stabbed him. A gunshot echoed throughout the room, and the dog-soldier-thing turned into dust. The dust fell onto his tutu.
This wasn’t good, no, not at all.
“Bluebell!” Clover crouched down beside him, gun still smoking.
“You killed it…?”
“It… Justice has a way of punishin’ criminells. Nobody hurts you.”
“Clover…”
“Yer gonna be alright, right, Bluebell?”
“...”
“Mikhail?”
He forced a smile. “Of course, m-my darling. I’ll be just fine.” He weakly interlocked his shaking hands from his thumbs, bringing them up to cover his face. “Mr Butterfly says I’ll be okay. He’s never wrong. So… don’t hurt anyone, because he says I’ll be just fine.”
Even though this wasn’t exactly the ideal position to pray, prayers started bouncing around in his head. He didn’t know who they were for, specifically. He just knew he had to pray. For Clover’s safety. For his own.
“Are ya sure?” Clover’s voice was shaky, and Mikhail glimpsed tears.
“Mr Butterfly says I’m just fine.” The upside of having something covering his face was that it blocked the sight of his own tears. “So don’t worry! It doesn’t even hurt. We’ll be out of here before you know it. Mr Butterfly-”
Clover yanked his hands down. “Yer lyin’.”
“...I’m fine, please, don’t worry about me.” He smiled as widely as he could, ignoring the blood pooling by him. That was too much blood. “And don’t hurt anyone.”
“You can’t be dyin’! That’s not fair! It’s not justice!” Clover grabbed him, wrapping him tightly in his arms.
“I’m not dying. Just think of it like… metamorphosis."
“...Do ya think we’d be okay in another universe?”
“We would. You’d be a proper cowboy, and I’d be a ballerina by your side.”
“And… And monsters and humans would all get along too, and we’d be mega close with King Asgore ‘cuz we’re humans but he likes humans, too, and we’d have so many monster friends!”
“We’d be able to be adults. Together. And… we’d both have the perfect family, and the perfect life of getting to live our dreams for the entirety of our life. You’d be a fully-fledged “justice”.”
“Bluebell… Why can’t that be now?” Clover sniffled.
“Come on, dear. Stop crying.” Mikhail smiled, hating how the world seemed to be fading away. “I hate to see you upset. You should know this, my beloved.”
“Mikhail…?”
“Don’t cry, because… in the margins of my role, I plead comedy, not tragedy.”
“Bluebell!? …Mikhail?”
———
Clover pointed his gun at Undyne as she ran at him, and he clicked the trigger. Nothing happened.
“W-Wha…?”
There were no bullets left. He’d used them all up. Still softly holding that blue heart-shaped object that had come from Mikhail, he turned and he ran.
———
“I can’t run any longer…” Clover whispered, by the room where Mikhail had left his shoes. “Somebody, anyone…”
He was alone. Taking a breath, he walked out of that room again, prepared to hit that awful woman with his empty gun til she died if that was what it took to deliver justice for what all of the monsters had done to his Bluebell. To Mikhail.
———
“Let’s strike a deal.” Undyne sighed. “Quid pro quo.”
“I ain’t trustin’ a killer like you.”
She glanced at his dust-covered clothes. “Right. I’ll let you scurry off to die to Asgore, our King, if you tell me where that other one’s body is.”
“How do you know he’s dead!?”
“You’re holding his soul.” She deadpanned.
“What do you want with his body?”
“Asgore puts them in coffins to preserve their dignity or whatever.” She explained. “Also, human bodies are gross. They rot.”
Clover sighed. “I’ll kill Asgore.”
“Sure you will.”
———
“Care for some tea?” Asgore set the three cups down, pouring the tea anyways. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you two. It’s very rare that more than one human falls down at once. I won’t judge you, of course. It’s rather sweet. We’ve only got one more soul to get, now. How fortunate.”
The two containers with the yellow and blue soul sat there, unresponsive.
Asgore sighed.