Statistically, it should be impossible to meet your soul-mate. There are over seven billion people on earth, and that's not even counting the monster population that's growing everyday and perhaps the aliens that might be in space. Soul-mate. What a strange word.
You had met your soul-mate.
Your soul-mate did not want you.
That was okay, you told yourself everyday, watching a few old reruns of what ever was on MTT that day, and ache in your chest.
You weren't what he was expecting.
You and your bad smoking habit, one you doubled since that one meeting. You and your terrible personality. You and your looks.
"You look like you work a corner." He sneered. That was printed on your ribs, hidden out of sight. You put heavy duty flesh toned makeup on it every morning so it would stay hidden when you were with your "clients".
Fuck him, you thought, watching Mettaton twirl across the stage, with all the elegance in the world. You didn't need him.
You smirked darkly to yourself, the look of shock on his face as you said your first words to him was priceless.
"Well shit, darling, so do you." and it was true. He really did that day.
A cold spoon was shoved into your mouth, the taste of your favourite ice-cream invaded your taste buds. You didn't particularly care where it came from, or who was in your apartment, ice-cream was more important right now. You stopped crying to eat it.
"oh wow, I didn't think that would work." slim remarked, shoving another spoonful of ice-cream into your mouth.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" you asked him, too emotionally exhausted to move away from him.
"we could hear you crying and it was agitating sa- black." he shrugged. "care to tell me why you're crying over mettaton?"
You ate your ice-cream silently, not saying a word. You couldn't muster up the energy to.
