Words: 1805
Warnings: light alcohol use (mentioned in passing kind of thing)
A light drizzle of snow falls from the grey sky above, coating the land in soft white. The enticing smells of cinnamon, mint and coffee waft through the air, people hurrying past in all directions, swaddled in thick, heavy coats, hidden among gloves, scarfs and hats. Boots clunk against the ground with every step.
However, Papyrus finds himself unable to enjoy any of it. Instead, he simply sighs, a mixture of sadness, longing, frustration and disappointment, along with subsequent guilt, brewing in his chest. A similar sound reaches across the phone line before Mettaton speaks again.
"Darling, I'm truly sorry, we're all trying our hardest, but every flight is apparently fully booked until Boxing Day at the earliest, and even then it's unlikely we'll all be able to get a plane home-"
"Metta, it's okay." Papyrus cuts him off, hearing his voice rising in pitch and speed, knowing from experience that Mettaton is getting increasingly more upset with each word. "Well, not quite okay, but it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for what happened."
Long story short, Mettaton had left for his last show of the year a couple weeks back, intending to be home in time for Christmas, but due to unforeseen circumstances, his flight had been cancelled, so he was now stranded across the ocean.
"I know it's not my fault, but I promised I would be there, I want to be there, and now I'm stuck here, away from you, from everyone else."
"I thought you had family back in England?"
"I did, but then Rain moved back to America, they missed us too much and couldn't settle back in properly, and I'm pretty sure my extended family either wouldn't appreciate me suddenly dropping in out of desperation or just don't even remember that I exist. It's been forever since I've spoken to some of them, heck I don't even know where most of them are anymore."
Papyrus barely swallows a rare curse, instead biting his lip, trying to avoid the elephant in the room. In the end, though, he doesn't have to.
"I'll just have to see if I can get a hotel room here for a couple days, there's not a whole lot else I can do... I'm sorry Papy, I really am."
"Stop apologising, okay? Any time you get back is fine, if you can't get home before Christmas then we can celebrate when you do get home. It'll be okay." There's a moment of silence before Mettaton speaks up once more.
"Thank you Papy. I'm afraid I have to go, Exci's trying to call me over. I'll keep you updated."
"Okay, and remember, you don't have to feel bad."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
A faint click indicates the end of the call, and Papyrus sighs as he lowers his phone away from his ear. He then lifts his head, tilting it skyward, watching the snow fall through the window behind the couch, where he's sat.
"Was that Mettaton?" Toriel's voice makes Papyrus jump, whipping around to find her in the living room's doorway, a small frown on her face. He nods before explaining the difficulties of the situation, and she only ducks her head for a second before laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry Papyrus, Christmas won't quite be the same without him, but if you two want to come back over when he does get home from tour to celebrate, you're more than welcome to."
He offers a 'thanks' before she turns and leaves. He watches as she walks, his gaze then shifting to the window once more. Before long, his eyes start to drift shut.
