[His smile broadens at the confirmation. They both missed it. They've both been longing for each other.]
[God, they're both kind of idiots, huh. Why is communication so difficult?]
s...same. like there was a hole. [He grins stupidly.] a mettaton-shaped hole. and you know how tall you are.
[He chuckles quietly as Mettaton presses their bodies flush. Yes, this is what he wants. This kind of closeness, inside and out.]
more like the other way around. you're the star. you got more...gravity.
[Oh, they're doing this. They're really going to do this. Mettaton sits back a little, and Sans misses him already. He looks from Mettaton's soul chamber up to his face, catching his eyes. He's giddy and nervous, trembling just a little. Mettaton looks like he's nervous as well. Sans catches his other hand again and gives it a squeeze. It's okay. They're both going to be okay.]
[His soul is so beautiful. Bright and pulsing with magic and energy, a healthy, normal monster soul, aside from its direction. He lays a hand over his chest, trying to coax his own soul outward. It's not as easy as Mettaton made it look. There's an instinctive need to stay hidden, to protect the most fragile part of himself, to not let anyone see its twisted awfulness. There's a glow slowly forming in his chest when Mettaton speaks again.]
i...
[It's almost too much. It almost scares him into calling this whole thing off. He shouldn't be trusted with something so pure and delicate, something that's so breakable. God, he shouldn't have his filthy hands anywhere near it. What if something goes wrong? What if he holds too hard or somehow corrupts it? Letting Sans into Mettaton's soul is one thing, but physically touching it?]
[But...people do it all the time back home. It's one of the most intimate things you can do with someone. One of the most important expressions of love, romantic or otherwise. People touch souls all the time and somehow monsterkind hasn't gotten all corrupted and broken. At least not any moreso than they already were.]
[The fear dissipates and leaves a sudden swell of raw emotion in its place. Mettaton trusts him. He trusts him with something so important.]
if...you're sure. if you're really sure.
[There's only one way he could possibly reciprocate.]
can...can you hold mine, then?
[The fear comes rushing back, and he manages to beat it back by reminding himself how much he loves and trusts Mettaton. Letting someone touch his soul has almost never ended well, but this...this is proving it to himself. Proving that he can do this, that he can trust someone like this. And...well.]
[There's. Certain other reasons for touching souls. Sans is, physically speaking, wholly inadequate. If they're going to do that--other thing--then Sans wants to make it as good as possible for Mettaton, because what's the point of him if he can't get his lover off even when he wants to? Physically touching each other's souls will no doubt make it...easier. He knows that's how some monsters do it.]
[Anyway, that's. That's for later, after this. For now it's just about trust. About connection.]
[His soul finally creeps its way out of his chest, and he can't help a grimace when he sees it. Still too small, still too dim, still withered around the edges. Still a reminder of how ugly his whole self is.]
the gay train never stops
[God, they're both kind of idiots, huh. Why is communication so difficult?]
s...same. like there was a hole. [He grins stupidly.] a mettaton-shaped hole. and you know how tall you are.
[He chuckles quietly as Mettaton presses their bodies flush. Yes, this is what he wants. This kind of closeness, inside and out.]
more like the other way around. you're the star. you got more...gravity.
[Oh, they're doing this. They're really going to do this. Mettaton sits back a little, and Sans misses him already. He looks from Mettaton's soul chamber up to his face, catching his eyes. He's giddy and nervous, trembling just a little. Mettaton looks like he's nervous as well. Sans catches his other hand again and gives it a squeeze. It's okay. They're both going to be okay.]
[His soul is so beautiful. Bright and pulsing with magic and energy, a healthy, normal monster soul, aside from its direction. He lays a hand over his chest, trying to coax his own soul outward. It's not as easy as Mettaton made it look. There's an instinctive need to stay hidden, to protect the most fragile part of himself, to not let anyone see its twisted awfulness. There's a glow slowly forming in his chest when Mettaton speaks again.]
i...
[It's almost too much. It almost scares him into calling this whole thing off. He shouldn't be trusted with something so pure and delicate, something that's so breakable. God, he shouldn't have his filthy hands anywhere near it. What if something goes wrong? What if he holds too hard or somehow corrupts it? Letting Sans into Mettaton's soul is one thing, but physically touching it?]
[But...people do it all the time back home. It's one of the most intimate things you can do with someone. One of the most important expressions of love, romantic or otherwise. People touch souls all the time and somehow monsterkind hasn't gotten all corrupted and broken. At least not any moreso than they already were.]
[The fear dissipates and leaves a sudden swell of raw emotion in its place. Mettaton trusts him. He trusts him with something so important.]
if...you're sure. if you're really sure.
[There's only one way he could possibly reciprocate.]
can...can you hold mine, then?
[The fear comes rushing back, and he manages to beat it back by reminding himself how much he loves and trusts Mettaton. Letting someone touch his soul has almost never ended well, but this...this is proving it to himself. Proving that he can do this, that he can trust someone like this. And...well.]
[There's. Certain other reasons for touching souls. Sans is, physically speaking, wholly inadequate. If they're going to do that--other thing--then Sans wants to make it as good as possible for Mettaton, because what's the point of him if he can't get his lover off even when he wants to? Physically touching each other's souls will no doubt make it...easier. He knows that's how some monsters do it.]
[Anyway, that's. That's for later, after this. For now it's just about trust. About connection.]
[His soul finally creeps its way out of his chest, and he can't help a grimace when he sees it. Still too small, still too dim, still withered around the edges. Still a reminder of how ugly his whole self is.]
if you want to, that is. i trust you, too.