[By "that", he means his neck, still worrying himself over it.
Sliding his fingers underneath Emet-Selch's neck, he realizes too late that his movement was more to achieve an end in his desire to help him sit up than it was out of any caution for his existing wounds, and he worries for a moment that he could've hurt his already damaged neck. Just how careful should he be? But it doesn't seem it did anything to hurt him. The give of pillows beneath his neck were to thank for that, since they formed around his arm more than Emet-Selch's skin.
In fact, thank anything related to pillows and pillowcases. Even if Emet-Selch accidentally lets go of the fabric Mettaton's dedicated himself to, it likely has dried to the spot: it won't move as readily as Mettaton fears, which is both a relief (mostly to ease Mettaton's irrational (?) worries about Emet-Selch bleeding out again upon its removal) and probably a sign that its intentional removal will disturb the wound somewhat. Regardless of the pressure applied to his neck, Mettaton's easily helped him sit up with an arm about the Ascian's shoulders, other hand holding the glass before him like a prize he's happy to give, though it's clear Emet-Selch needs a moment.
And so he watches him, wondering how he feels. How the hoarse quality of his voice feels in his throat, what it feels like to know he needs water, how the neck injury impacts speaking or turning his head or if it'll affect drinking — a ridiculous image in his mind's eye of water draining from the wound, even though he knows it's not that deep, not connected to this esophagus, but having the confusing thought anyway. For all of Mettaton's growing understanding of his body, it's all so curious to him, how they work. And really, he'd rather have thoughts like these - ridiculous ones that compare an injured neck to a leaky pipe - than the harrowing thoughts of crushed organs and distorted giants. This is about his lover, and his well-being.
Mettaton wonders if this level of vulnerability Emet-Selch feels ready to demonstrate before him has anything to do with having met him in a cell intended for torture. He doesn't strike him as the sort to drop his guard readily, more the sort to feel uncomfortable at the thought, and it causes his grip to tighten protectively. But then, he considers that his own feelings of being able to be so prone to Emet-Selch in spirit come from the knowledge that even if it hurts him, his Bonded can handle him. He believes that to be the case, and he smiles warmly, wishing to convey to him that he'll take him any time, no matter how he is. No matter how scary, incensed, weak, or softened he is, Mettaton wants to see every dimension of Emet-Selch. It's a natural result, to feel this close to someone he loves like this. It's mutual.
The idol facilitates Emet-Selch's lean and waits until he's ready.
His hand remains with the glass so it's not dropped in a mess all over, too, especially once he feels the lightness of the Ascian's touch. He's already anticipated as much. Mettaton's thumb strokes over Emet-Selch's shoulder.]
... This showed me something. I may have learned more about bodies like this... More than I've ever understood. However. Learning how to better care for you could only be a benefit.
[Not only in practicing emergency first aid for Emet-Selch, himself (organic form), and for anybody he chances upon, but to avoid damaging their bodies. He doesn't view them as particularly weaker than his own metal one, but with different vulnerabilities. (He truly could only learn, given that he still believes that humans can consume just about anything safely.)
This could have gone a lot worse, if he didn't ask for help. If he didn't get lucky. If Emet-Selch were in any worse condition. He can hardly fathom it.
Regarding Emet-Selch in this host of his, he imagines that normally, he should be able to vacate this body and find another. Worrying about dying like this is be a new concern for the Ascian, bound to his body as he likely is. It means he has to be extra cautious — or about as cautious as everyone else who only gets one body, which is normal levels of caution.]
For example. I didn't know that pressure would stop your bleeding... I only thought about how you tried to hold me together, in vain. That I could hold you together.
[The rest of it, he needed external advice — and even knowing that pressure was a good thing was something he learned through that conversation.]
And you probably don't need stitches. [Not even thinking about the fact that a society that can rely upon magic for healing mostly takes care of the need for stitches; just regurgitating what Mikasa could tell him.]
no subject
Of course I can. Hang onto that...
[By "that", he means his neck, still worrying himself over it.
Sliding his fingers underneath Emet-Selch's neck, he realizes too late that his movement was more to achieve an end in his desire to help him sit up than it was out of any caution for his existing wounds, and he worries for a moment that he could've hurt his already damaged neck. Just how careful should he be? But it doesn't seem it did anything to hurt him. The give of pillows beneath his neck were to thank for that, since they formed around his arm more than Emet-Selch's skin.
In fact, thank anything related to pillows and pillowcases. Even if Emet-Selch accidentally lets go of the fabric Mettaton's dedicated himself to, it likely has dried to the spot: it won't move as readily as Mettaton fears, which is both a relief (mostly to ease Mettaton's irrational (?) worries about Emet-Selch bleeding out again upon its removal) and probably a sign that its intentional removal will disturb the wound somewhat. Regardless of the pressure applied to his neck, Mettaton's easily helped him sit up with an arm about the Ascian's shoulders, other hand holding the glass before him like a prize he's happy to give, though it's clear Emet-Selch needs a moment.
And so he watches him, wondering how he feels. How the hoarse quality of his voice feels in his throat, what it feels like to know he needs water, how the neck injury impacts speaking or turning his head or if it'll affect drinking — a ridiculous image in his mind's eye of water draining from the wound, even though he knows it's not that deep, not connected to this esophagus, but having the confusing thought anyway. For all of Mettaton's growing understanding of his body, it's all so curious to him, how they work. And really, he'd rather have thoughts like these - ridiculous ones that compare an injured neck to a leaky pipe - than the harrowing thoughts of crushed organs and distorted giants. This is about his lover, and his well-being.
Mettaton wonders if this level of vulnerability Emet-Selch feels ready to demonstrate before him has anything to do with having met him in a cell intended for torture. He doesn't strike him as the sort to drop his guard readily, more the sort to feel uncomfortable at the thought, and it causes his grip to tighten protectively. But then, he considers that his own feelings of being able to be so prone to Emet-Selch in spirit come from the knowledge that even if it hurts him, his Bonded can handle him. He believes that to be the case, and he smiles warmly, wishing to convey to him that he'll take him any time, no matter how he is. No matter how scary, incensed, weak, or softened he is, Mettaton wants to see every dimension of Emet-Selch. It's a natural result, to feel this close to someone he loves like this. It's mutual.
The idol facilitates Emet-Selch's lean and waits until he's ready.
His hand remains with the glass so it's not dropped in a mess all over, too, especially once he feels the lightness of the Ascian's touch. He's already anticipated as much. Mettaton's thumb strokes over Emet-Selch's shoulder.]
... This showed me something. I may have learned more about bodies like this... More than I've ever understood. However. Learning how to better care for you could only be a benefit.
[Not only in practicing emergency first aid for Emet-Selch, himself (organic form), and for anybody he chances upon, but to avoid damaging their bodies. He doesn't view them as particularly weaker than his own metal one, but with different vulnerabilities. (He truly could only learn, given that he still believes that humans can consume just about anything safely.)
This could have gone a lot worse, if he didn't ask for help. If he didn't get lucky. If Emet-Selch were in any worse condition. He can hardly fathom it.
Regarding Emet-Selch in this host of his, he imagines that normally, he should be able to vacate this body and find another. Worrying about dying like this is be a new concern for the Ascian, bound to his body as he likely is. It means he has to be extra cautious — or about as cautious as everyone else who only gets one body, which is normal levels of caution.]
For example. I didn't know that pressure would stop your bleeding... I only thought about how you tried to hold me together, in vain. That I could hold you together.
[The rest of it, he needed external advice — and even knowing that pressure was a good thing was something he learned through that conversation.]
And you probably don't need stitches. [Not even thinking about the fact that a society that can rely upon magic for healing mostly takes care of the need for stitches; just regurgitating what Mikasa could tell him.]