(Sans x Reader) When Two Souls Meet

Starlight, Starbright

~Your Perspective~

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Why did I ever agree to this?

Your whole body shakes as you stand backstage at the MTT Resort, your knuckles white as you clutch at your dress. Up until this moment, everything was fine. You'd managed to forget your nervousness, and was even looking forward to this whole "date" thing. You'd finished getting your dress (which looked absolutely fabulous, to quote a certain flamboyant robot), and then got your hair done at a nearby salon. Then after some shopping at the MTT department store, you, Alphys, and Undyne headed back to the lab so Mettaton could do your makeup for you.

It was a first (you couldn't stand makeup—it took too much time, and you felt it made you seem superficial if you did it), but you have to admit that Mettaton knew what he was doing. The first time you looked in the mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. You had a glow about you, and you felt really empowered for some strange reason...

But all of that disappeared once you got here. You'd forgotten that you'd have to go on stage.

Oh god... why are there so many people?! you ask yourself, anxiety twisting your gut into knots. At least 20 or 30 monsters are milling around backstage with headphones on and clipboards in their hands. They shout orders to each other, and hurry from place to place setting up cameras and props... I thought this was a performance. Not a reality TV show!

You take a shaky deep breath, and try to blink back the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes. You can't do this right now. You're supposed to go on in a few minutes, and the last thing you want to do is cry in front of the entire Underground.

Besides... how bad can it possibly be?

Mettaton came up to you a few minutes ago and told you what to do, and where to stand, etc. etc. He'd originally wanted you to sing for half an hour... but after seeing how distraught you were, he agreed to lower it to a single song. While you feel awful that the egotistical robot took pity on you... you can't help but be relieved. One song... you can do that. That's easy enough. ...Right?

Just... just imagine that you're doing it for Sans. Y-yeah. He's the only one that matters. If you pretend he's the only one in the audience, you should do fine.

Even as you tell yourself, though, the sound of Mettaton's voice from the other side of the curtains is enough to make you feel nauseous. You clutch at your dress so hard that you're afraid your knuckles will break. Your breath comes in gasps, and the room starts to spin around you.

No, no no no no no. No. I have to do this. I have to do this. Just... calm down. Breathe. In... and out...

It doesn't really help.

Oh god... what I wouldn't give to have Sans here right now.

Mettaton took your phone the moment you got backstage. He said something about "not wanting you distracted," and then took it with him somewhere. But now you have no way of contacting Sans... and all you want is to hear his voice.

He's out there, you remind yourself. He's in the audience. Calm down. You're going to be fine. Just... just relax. Focus on Sans. You're only singing for Sans. No one else. You're singing for your boyfriend.

You reach into your pocket (yes, Spiffet was awesome enough to give your dress concealed pockets) and pull out a palm-sized box. It reminds you of a ring box, with its pinstriped blue cloth, but the object inside is even more precious to you than any jewel. You open it for what must be the tenth time today, and smile at the object inside. It's the watch you picked out for Sans.