The wind howled against the window of the small, dusty room. An arm was wrapped around your short frame and you soaked in the sound of the rain crashing into the house. You didn't even bother to look at Calvin.

You rolled out of his bed and stepped into the living room, combing a hand through your hair as you checked your text messages. You had about ten unanswered messages...

Hey suaga wanna hang out 2night? ;)

hey its mark from last night what do you charge? :)

lets meet up

You scrolled past messages of a similar caliber until you found Mettaton's name.

Good morning Darling! 3

Wanna grab a bit at Grillby's later?

Are you okay? It's one in the afternoon :/

You texted him back: Yeah, I'm fine. How about 3:30?

That should give you time to shower, drop Calvin off at one of his spots, and drive there...

He texted back: Alright, see you then! ^^

You picked a few clothes from your pile of landry and hopped in the shower. Soon, the music of Calvin's stereo was blasting old rap songs and bad grunge. You looked down and saw bruises cover your skin. You got dressed and stepped onto the dingy carpet.

"Hey, sweetie," Calvin kissed you heavily. You wanted to resist but you didn't want to make him angry. He finally broke off, leaving you panting for air.

"G-Good morning," you murmured. You squirmed under his gaze, looking at you like a predator. You wanted to fight back, you really did, but the beatings he gave you left you sore and weak all over. "Can I go to Grillby's daddy?"

"By yourself? No," he rolled his eyes. Your chest flared in annoyance.

"I'm only going to meet a friend."

"Then tell them to come pick you up over here. I'm not letting you go without formally meeting them first," Calvin crossed his arms.

"They're just another... whore," you hated calling a friend that, but it would set Calvin more at ease. "I won't meet with a guy. Please?" You needed to get out this house. You wanted to forget last night as much as you could.

"Oh realy another whore, like you?" he smirked, holding your hand, "Even more the reason to meet them. Call them."

No. You wouldn't do that to Mettaton. You wouldn't let him see how badly you were treated. If anything, you couldn't put him in risk of Calvin's wrath.

"Look, it's no big deal," you fridgeted. "I'll just stay here and we can have some fun," you smiled fakely, grabbing Calvin's arm gently. You tried to kiss him.

He pulled away, glaring at you. "I know what you're trying to do babydoll, but you wanted to go to Grillby's. Call them. Now."

You pulled out your phone as he gripped your waist, dialing Mettaton's number. "Hey..."

"Hello, sweetie! What's up?"

"Do you think you can come pick me up? My car is broke down."

"Sure! I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"Thanks." You hung up. Calvin left you there alone with your thoughts. You went into the bathroom, opening the cabnet mirror. When you closed it... all you saw a weak version of yourself. You had a black eye and bruises on your cheek, chin, and lips. A few of the smaller ones were healing, tinted yellow. You opened the emergency make-up bag you had stashed away. How did you let it get like this?

There were plenty of concealors, bronzers, and face creams to hide the damage. You decided to start on your shoulders and arm.

Just as you were finishing, the doorbell rang. You left the bathroom, adding on a few extra touches of concealer. The makeup did little to hide your swollen lips, cracked in bruises. You sigh.

"Y/N, your friend is here!" Calvin called. Of course, he'd be too lazy to answer for you. You stepped out into the hall and over the messy disarray Calvin had laying about.

You opened the door and there stood Mettaton, admiring himself in his pocket mirror. He closed it with a soft click and smiled at you.

"Hey, Y/N, may I come in?" Mettaton hugged you and held your shoulders gently. You would be happy to see him if you didn't feel daggers stare into your back.

"Sure!" You tried to sound cheerful. You stepped away, "I wanted you to meet-"

"Baby, who is this fag?" Calvin walked from under the archway of the kitchen, holding you close. You tried to shrug him off.

"My friend," you hissed. You didn't care if you were 'talking back.' No one can talk to Mettaton like that. Not with you there.

"Oh," he crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't know faggots could be whores, too. I guess this world is full of surprises."

"Excuse me?" Mettaton hissed.

"We're actually pretty busy today. So, you can leave now and not come back again." Calvin squeezed your arm, earning a small, "Ow," from you as he tried to slam the door in Mettaton's face. But the robot was having none of that. He pressed a foot between the door, slamming it open.

"Have you been hurting them?" Mettaton glared down at Calvin. He frowned at you. "You really thought I wouldn't notice those horrendous bruises under that insane amount of cheap makeup, did you?"

"M-MTT, it's really no big deal...," You tried to shrug it off, "H-He was only..."

"Honey, let me help you." The robot tried to grab your arm to inspect the bruises further before Calvin slapped his hand away.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Them." You felt metal dig into your scalp. You groaned in pain. Mettaton froze. The blood drained from your face. You finally realized that Calvin... he had a fucking gun to your head!

"C-Calvin...," your eyes swelled in tears. Mettaton took a step back.

"Shut up," he growled in your ear. "Just shut the fuck up." Calvin pointed it towards the robot.

"Leave."

"Put the gun down, Calvin...," he murmured.

"You don't know a god damn thing about me. Get the fuck outta here faggot or I'll blow this bitch's brains out!" He yelled, shoving the gun to your ear for emphasis. You whimpered.

Mettaton walked back slowly, giving you a look as if you say, "I'll come back for you."

"Turn around and get to steppin!," Calvin walked onto the patio, his arm still unbearly tight around you. You held back a whine. Mettaton did as he said, his head down in defeat.

You breathed heavily, sobbing. He pointed the gun at your robotic friend. "C-Calvin..." A gunshot penetrated your ears. In a flash, Mettaton turned back with his hand outstretched and you heard a gulp beside you. The gun fell to your feet.

Calvin slid off you, clutching his chest.

"Shit." Mettaton quickly grabbed the gun and you hand. He dragged you into the house. You couldn't think. The image of Calvin laying in a pool of his own blood bore into your mind. You turned away, looking back at his limp body.

"Come on, Y/N!" Your stare must have made him stop scrambling because Mettaton looked back as well.

The man's pollo seeped with crimson liquid and his voice gurgle pathetically. He strained to look up at you with hollow, blue eyes. For once, his eyes held mercy, sympathy... perhaps even love. His arm stretched out towards you in a silent plea of truce. Your stiffened.

"B-Baby... r-remember me... r-rememb-ber... y-you're...," he choked out a wad of blood. He gasped, "M-my... doll..."


End note: So Mettaton blocked the bullet by catching it with his hand... but it ended up bouncing off and hitting Calvin...