Mettaton X Reader

~9~

AN:Yo, there's some probably triggering stuff in here, so like, if ya'll ain't down for suicide mentions, and ptsd, and graphic depictions of violence, then uh.... ya'll shouldn't be reading anything by me bc, all my writing has that kinda stuff in it tbh....

(Y/N) checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time in the past half hour. She'd been carefully awaiting...

Nothing.

She was awaiting nothing. 

But, it certainly felt to her, like she should expect something. 

"Yo, (Y/N) you're on in 10," Aliyah called from the other side of the door to her dressing room.

"Got it, thanks cou-" she stopped herself. "Thanks Ali."

Did I just? There's no way I could have... But I almost did. God, this is too much for me. (Y/N) sighed loudly. She was tired. Not the kind of tired you could just sleep off either. She was tired in her soul as well.

She sighed, loudly. Standing up an leaving her dressing room. Her first concert since summer had started was on in approximately seven and a half minutes.

She listened intently as the opening band played, careful to distract herself and take in every single word. (Y/N) tugged at the hem of the black dress she wore. 

The words didn't mean a thing to her. They were some cheesy up and coming pop band that (Y/N) couldn't possibly have cared less about.

They weren't even singing their own song. As (Y/N) listened, she realized it was a cover of Abba's 'Winner Takes It All.'

The boy at the front of the stage, a skinny, blond kid from some European country (Y/N) couldn't remember the name of, was singing his heart out though. It was kind of painful to see him so authentic and real like that. She felt bad for him and his friends. They'd have their time in the spotlight, and then, just like every other musical legend, die off, and be forgotten.

"The winner takes it all!" She could hear the words forcing themselves out of his emotion filled throat.

"The loser has to fall!" Yeah. Everyone falls eventually though. No one really wins. But I will. I'll win this game of life once and for all.

"It's simple and plain," the rest of the boys had joined in singing. (Y/N) thought that even though they were singing together it sounded lonely.

"Why should I complain?" (Y/N) felt the force of every word as they skipped straight back to the end chorus (which, mind you had not happened in the original song) and she felt like for once, a song that she hadn't wrote spoke to her personally.

"Thank you so much everyone!" The little blond kid was talking again. (Y/N) didn't care. She knew when her cue was. The blond kid and his friends (two brunettes, another blond kid, and a ginger) were giving thanks to the audience, even though (Y/N) bitterly noted: It was me they came for.