[His smile grows at Emet-Selch's surprise, not having expected it, precisely, but finding it to be such an interesting assortment of response to such an innocent statement. The sharpness of his tone, his choice in words, but the contrast of it against such pleasant ministrations to his ear (which Mettaton leans into without meaning to with a slight hum, finding that he's very prone to the sensation) and the way he leans in closer. He can only imagine the conflict now. Such loneliness requires desperate measures to compensate, and having anybody come close... How does that make the Ascian feel? Does he fear the loss associated with closeness?
Who doesn't? But for somebody like himself, loss after loss after loss... He wonders if all he sees in a relationship is the accompanying loss. It's terribly sad to think about.
Even thinking as much gives Mettaton a pang of guilt, imagining having to make somebody else go through the heartache of loss. That Emet-Selch would already be feeling as much, it... makes sense. Closeness is cruel, when that bond is yanked from one's clutches. That's his greatest regret, after all. Two deeply bonded individuals could be close enough to see each other at any time of day for years and years, sharing in all things and being perfectly at ease that neither of them would leave, exchange their fears of disappearing, only to find that one day, the other half to their whole has... gone missing. (Hidden in plain sight.)
Mettaton hesitates. Feels pain that isn't his, from two sources. And then, feels pain that is his. He's susceptible to emotion, deeply so. But those aren't how he feels right now, and it's easy for him to shed it in favor of this moment: he couldn't imagine suffering for something that isn't even happening, all the time. It's back to affection, the light dizziness of expressing himself, and the accompanying feelings for Emet-Selch that color his mood.
There's that word again, "mistaken." He's thrilled to be considered "mistaken" now, regardless. It hurts when he thinks about loss, but when he thinks about now, it drowns such heartache out with a buzz of warmth. Even Emet-Selch's evident distress won't stop him from speaking his heart, which he will do readily, always. Love has a way of being both delightful and hurtful, after all, but so delightful while it's there.]
You're important to me, gorgeous. You are. Hades. You're my friend, and...
[Oh, but he wouldn't treat his friends to all of this. He doesn't treat anybody else to this, actually. Mettaton breathes Emet-Selch in, as if he could smell him, but he can't. He holds him closer.]
Well. You've made yourself quite at home... in some exclusive part of my heart. You're special to me. ...Very.
[Special enough that it would hurt to lose him. It will, so much that he can't think about it yet. How could he, when he has him in his arms right now? Breathing him in like this, Mettaton finds that he can still get a strange feeling of his warmth by air detectable by his tongue. He grips onto his waist, and kisses his skin.]
Oh. I'm afraid I'm mistaken about nothing, by the way. It should be obvious to you... that I know how I feel. Don't doubt, darling.
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Who doesn't? But for somebody like himself, loss after loss after loss... He wonders if all he sees in a relationship is the accompanying loss. It's terribly sad to think about.
Even thinking as much gives Mettaton a pang of guilt, imagining having to make somebody else go through the heartache of loss. That Emet-Selch would already be feeling as much, it... makes sense. Closeness is cruel, when that bond is yanked from one's clutches. That's his greatest regret, after all. Two deeply bonded individuals could be close enough to see each other at any time of day for years and years, sharing in all things and being perfectly at ease that neither of them would leave, exchange their fears of disappearing, only to find that one day, the other half to their whole has... gone missing. (Hidden in plain sight.)
Mettaton hesitates. Feels pain that isn't his, from two sources. And then, feels pain that is his. He's susceptible to emotion, deeply so. But those aren't how he feels right now, and it's easy for him to shed it in favor of this moment: he couldn't imagine suffering for something that isn't even happening, all the time. It's back to affection, the light dizziness of expressing himself, and the accompanying feelings for Emet-Selch that color his mood.
There's that word again, "mistaken." He's thrilled to be considered "mistaken" now, regardless. It hurts when he thinks about loss, but when he thinks about now, it drowns such heartache out with a buzz of warmth. Even Emet-Selch's evident distress won't stop him from speaking his heart, which he will do readily, always. Love has a way of being both delightful and hurtful, after all, but so delightful while it's there.]
You're important to me, gorgeous. You are. Hades. You're my friend, and...
[Oh, but he wouldn't treat his friends to all of this. He doesn't treat anybody else to this, actually. Mettaton breathes Emet-Selch in, as if he could smell him, but he can't. He holds him closer.]
Well. You've made yourself quite at home... in some exclusive part of my heart. You're special to me. ...Very.
[Special enough that it would hurt to lose him. It will, so much that he can't think about it yet. How could he, when he has him in his arms right now? Breathing him in like this, Mettaton finds that he can still get a strange feeling of his warmth by air detectable by his tongue. He grips onto his waist, and kisses his skin.]
Oh. I'm afraid I'm mistaken about nothing, by the way. It should be obvious to you... that I know how I feel. Don't doubt, darling.