Hahahaha, you thought I had forgotten all about this story, didn't you? Nope, I'm just the slowest writer in existence. Oh well. *jumps out of window in shame*
Undyne doesn't want people to hear her play either, but Papyrus still does sometimes.
His training isn't supposed to start for another 5 minutes, and while he's sure she won't mind him being a tad early, he doesn't feel it appropriate to impose on the captain of the royal guard's precious time.
Besides, Mettaton often talks about how one should always be fashionably late.
Papyrus doesn't really agree with that. Not being somewhere, when you're supposed to be there, just seems like bad conduct to him. He'd rather be exactly on time...
But being premature means he gets to stand outside Undyne's house and hear her perform, so if he leaves the house 15 minutes earlier than he strictly should, so be it.
Sans certainly doesn't notice.
Despite the sounds having to be carried through a wall first, Waterfall's caves make for oddly pleasing acoustics, notes bouncing of the damp rocks and echoing back in clear tones.
Some songs are familiar to him, and Papyrus softly hums along as she plays, fingers itching when he unconsciously envisions the correct finger placements on his violin.
Some songs are stranger to his ears, and he wonders if Undyne composed them herself. She doesn't seem like that type of person, but then again, people are just full of surprises and she's certainly a very talented pianist. Maybe he could just ask her?
At precisely the appointed time, Papyrus is knocking on his captain's door, feeling a slight regret as the beautiful music stops abruptly with a sudden false note before Undyne answers his call.
That lesson, she is uncharacteristically calm. Presumably, her piano and his violin serve a similar purpose then.
Papyrus decides he'll ask her some other day.
You know what really puts your view of a person into a new perspective? Seeing them die around umpteen times.
It doesn't really do, to tell yourself you'll save it for another day, only to realize this other day will never come. Because it's just the same days over and over again, and really, you can procrastinate pretty much everything in this fashion.
A never ending bucket list of things Papyrus still wants to do.
Maybe he will officially join the royal guard one day? Or take up professional acting? Tell Sans how miserable he is? Finally be happy?
Or maybe he'll just do all those things after the resets stop. Which is to say, never.
That's what he keeps telling himself, until one day he is sitting in an empty house, fingers brushing over the keys of a dusty piano that hasn't been played for weeks now, its owner spread across its surface.
And there is a king on the throne made of metal and fame, who watches idly by as his kingdom dies beneath him.
As they all die.
Papyrus tried playing his violin, but it has stopped helping ages ago.
He pushes down on white ivory, shudders at the feel of Undyne clinging to his bare fingers, and the notes are clean and beautiful, but he can't play.
He can't, because Undyne never showed him. Because he never asked.
He should have just asked.
The air smells of burned food and his scarf is stained with stray spatters of sauce, but he's smiling and Undyne is patting him on the back, telling him how much he has improved for what seems like the millionth time, when it slips out.
"I like your piano." He says, and she glances over at the instrument as if it's the first time she noticed its presence in her own living room.
Her face turns slightly red, but she's grinning like crazy still. "You do?" And maybe if he didn't know better he would think she sounds incredulous.
"Of course." He approaches it carefully, as if it would skitter away like a frightened animal, and Undyne is already bounding over and plopping herself down in the seat. "Do you play?"
"Well, duh." She cracks her knuckles loudly, and for once Papyrus doesn't mind. "Playing piano requires dexterity, speed and endurance. It's perfect training!"
It's the exact same thing she told him about cooking once, ages ago. But his smile doesn't falter when he clenches his hands in front of him. "Wowie! Can you show me?"
There is a second of hesitation, the inevitable pause when somebody asks you to share something so personal you're not sure words can describe it.
But then, Undyne is scooting over, posing her fingers over the keys dramatically. "Even better. Sit your boney ass down, nerd! We're having a music lesson."
The next day, he brings his violin with him to her house. Both her smile and her eyes get impossibly bigger when she sees the instrument, and of course there is no cooking that gets done that day.
The tunes flow together seamlessly, as if they have been playing in unison their entire life. Undyne goes fast and chaotic, and Papyrus moves to keep up with her, until her loud laughter is filling the room.
Then she will go slow and steady and he'll lead. He'll play something he wrote with her in mind several timelines ago, when her dust clung to his fingers still, and Undyne is gliding across the keys in a semblance of calm Papyrus didn't think possible for her.
And all the while, the two of them grin like idiots.
Papyrus now thinks it might be okay to play when you're happy too. But only when he doesn't have to do it alone.
Her fingers are trembling, and the notes are false. He tries to play along calmly, but Undyne can't carry a tune.
Not when her entire body is shaking with sobs, grief wrecking her.
They named the song after her. It is beautiful and subdued and tragic. Just like she was.
But it sounds like sadness and death and the bottom of an abyss, the edge of which Papyrus has a lot of personal familiarity with also. The willful ending of your own life.
And when Undyne starts crying, Papyrus only plays louder.
He can't do anything. He failed again.
But at least he can drown out the sound of her tears.
The house is dark and empty, the remnants of one last cup of tea gone cold on the table.
He is sitting behind her piano again, feeling the dust against his palms when he plays.
This time, he knows how it's done.
He's not as good at it as Undyne was. He might never be.
But the song sounds like tired giggles and clashing magic and the two of them together and it helps him forget her absence.
Helps him forget the kingdom he has to run. The dead garden he has to return to. The lying brother that is waiting for him.
He can forget it all for a while, and just have his music.
A big thank you to all the lovely folk who left a comment! It makes me so happy.