Can You Hear Me? *REWRITE*

Opening Act

The crowd was deafening.

You stood backstage, nerves singing through you, hands twisting together. You shook you hands out and smoothed out your skirt for the umpteenth time— a fidgety movement made to try to calm down. An effort in futility really. But you weren't just nervous— you were excited too.

The crowd roared as the song ended, leaving them in a frenzy of excited energy as they anticipated the next. Your heart pounded against your ribs, exhilaration flooding your system. You bounced impatiently on the balls of your feet, taking a few deep breaths and adjusting your ear mic. It was almost time.

"Knock them dead, (y/n)," your manager, Chris, grinned, giving you a solid thumbs up. You grinned and hopped onto the platform that would soon launch you onto the stage. You couldn't wait. The few second before starting a performance were always your favourite. The thrum of energy flooding your system, the roar of the crowd in the distance. The anticipation of the lights, the music, the dance. You didn't care that your nerves were shot or that your hands were shaking.

This was your life.

The stage director gave the signal and you heard the hiss of smoke machines above you. The crowd went wild as the next song picked up, most recognizing it by the first few notes. The platform under you jerked, and you quickly struck the proper pose. The sound of the crowd grew deafening, the lights nearly blinding you. You kept perfectly still, despite the slightly uncomfortable pose, waiting until the platform jerked to a stop. The music picked up, and perfectly in time with your partner in crime you started singing. Mettaton's voice harmonized perfectly with yours, and the crowd loved it. He'd been performing solo before your entrance— this was his concert after all— but you'd performed so many duets with the robot monster in the past that it was almost unheard of for one of you to have a concert without an appearance from the other.

Once the intro was over you and Mettaton began to dance. You knew the steps by heart, and although you couldn't move as fluidly as the robot, you could certainly dance. Mettaton took over the chorus as you concentrated on harmonizing and dancing. It all required so little effort on your part— all the hours you'd spent committing the routine to memory certainly paying off. You didn't even need to think; everything was muscle memory.

You started on the second verse, bopping and swaying in time with Mettaton, who effortlessly kept time. You spun and twisted through the second verse with the metallic monster; dancing together, pulling apart, and twirling together once again. The steps were complicated, the melody challenging, the tempo fast and unrelenting, but you wouldn't have it any other way. It was one of your favourite duets. Moving into the second chorus, the two of you sung in harmony, Mettaton's flexible tenor blending perfectly with your mezzo-soprano.

You struck a pose in sync with Mettaton as the song finished and took a second to relax slightly and breath as the crowd, full of both humans and monsters, went crazy. Mettaton blew the ecstatic crowd a kiss, then flounced off the stage to take a small break, leaving you to start the next song alone.

Proudly you hit every note, every beat, in perfect sync with the accompaniment. Mettaton rejoined you for the next duet­— a sultry number that had the two of you waltzing across the stage, both together and apart. You were in your element, confidently singing the melody, serenely taking the harmony. You basked in the attention and relished in the feel of you heels hitting the stage, the strain of your vocal cords, and the heat of the lights. And you loved every minute of it.

All too soon the concert was over. You bid your goodbyes to the crowd, resisted the urge to stay and preform another encore, plastered a genuine smile to your face, and scampered off the stage. You were greeted by the crew as soon as you were out of the audience's sight, passing through numerous smiles and affirmations of success. You weren't tired per say, still riding the high that came with a concert, but you were parched, and you throat felt scratchy and dry. That last number you'd done always pushed your vocals to the limits, which was a blessing and a curse when you sung it last.

You spotted the refreshment table and a water bottle with your name on it, but was intercepted by a massive, rather crushing, robot hug.

"Darling you were absolutely faboulous!" Metttaton squealed, rubbing his cheek against yours.

"Thanks, Mettaton!" you managed to gasp. Mettaton was always one for hugs, but frankly his strength sometimes got the better of you. You figured that, in his excitement, he forgot you were squishy compared to him. "You were pretty fabulous yourself."

He released you from the crushing hug and grabbed your hands, spinning you around in an excited circle. "That was one of our best performances to date! Did you see that crowd? They were absolutely raving! They love you darling!"

You let out a laugh, a faint, embarrassed blush dotting your cheeks. "You always say that! Besides, I think they were more excited to see you then me."

"Nonsense!" Mettaton retorted, letting out a gasp of shock. "They adore you!"

You laughed again. "Alright fine, they were excited to see both of us." Mettaton pouted but didn't argue further. Despite the praise heaped on you by Mettaton and your fans, you hadn't gotten any better at accepting it. It was just one of those things.

Desperate for a sip of water, you freed your hands from Mettaton's and hooked an arm through his, leading him towards the refreshment table as he suddenly changed the subject. "That reminds me darling, you simply must come to my little party tonight!"

"I thought you were just going to a friends house?" you questioned, cracking open a water bottle and taking a healthy sip. Must better.

"Darling, every get together I attend is a party."

Ah, of course. You resisted rolling your eyes. You'd been invited to this 'party' a few days ago but hadn't been intending to go, and already told him as much. Well, no, that wasn't true. You wanted to go but couldn't. "Mettaton..." you sighed.

"I know, but I thought I'd give you the chance to reconsider," he shrugged, a bit of his bubbly persona slipping away. "It really isn't anything serious, and I know they'd all absolutely love to meet you."

You frowned again, taking another drink to delay answering. You really did want to meet his friends. Mettaton had told you a great deal about them and they all sounded like amazing monsters. Apparently one of them was your biggest fan. But there lay the problem. They were monsters. You didn't have a problem with monsters, not at all. You best friend was one after all. But your brother, Peter, stubbornly refused to let you go, and you didn't want to lie to him.

You shouldn't lie to him.

"I can't Mettaton." You sighed again. "I'm sorry."

Mettaton sighed too, a look that was almost pity crossing his face. "He wouldn't let you come over for just a few hours?"

"No, I don't think so."

Mettaton sighed, and you deflated. You felt like a jerk and were disappointed in your lack of confidence in this matter. Peter was fine with monster involvement in work, but he hesitated when it came to interacting with them outside of work.

Mettaton took a deep breath, and his gorgeous smile returned. "Don't worry about it darling! I'm sure you'll make it next time!" He said that last time too. And the time before that. And the time before that. Ever the optimist he was. You didn't share his optimism but smiled back anyway.

"I'll talk to him about it." You offered, Mettaton rewarding you with a grin. He was going to add something but was interrupted by his phone ringing. It was a ridiculous theme, something to do with spaghetti, and you wondered why he even had it programmed as a ringtone. He gave you a little finger wiggle and a wink before turning away.

"Pap, honey! What can I do for you?"

You were pretty sure Pap was Papyrus, one of those friends Mettaton always talked about. You turned away and tuned him out, heading for the changing rooms so you could get into casual clothes; i.e. a (f/c) knit sweater over dark blue jeans. You topped it off with a plain brown flat cap which you tucked your (h/c) under as a bit of a disguise, and plain black converse.

When you entered the main area again, Mettaton pounced on you for another quick hug. "Well darling, I have to go! My rides awaiting, and I don't want to miss it!" As quick as he'd come, he was flouncing towards the exit, disappearing out the door with nothing but a finger wiggle wave.

You wandered back to the refreshment table and grabbed something to snack on as you waited for your own ride to arrive.