The Walls Around Our Hearts

2. Home

Mettaton was definitely going to take a private jet the next time he traveled anywhere.

None of the plane trips had really been what he would call a disaster, but plenty of things had gone sour. The first-class seats were comfy, but still more cramped than the robot would have liked. He wasn't used to moving around so little, so his joints stuck and he was filled with a nervous physical energy he couldn't get rid of. The food wasn't very good for the most part, so he'd foregone it a fair bit, which drained his magical energy. He never really cared for any of the movie options they had. The charging ports weren't equipped to charge much more than a laptop computer, so he was often forced to go into sleep mode most of the flight to save his battery. At one point, a mistake had been made with his team's tickets, and they'd all had to sit in economy class, where it turned out the air conditioning wasn't working right. That had been an extremely uncomfortable night flight for all of them.

And then there were the fangirls.

The fangirls never seemed to stop coming. Everywhere he went, Mettaton was inundated with people asking for his autograph, wanting a hug, taking pictures and videos, talking to him. Of course, he didn't actually mind that for the most part; he knew full well he never would've achieved his dreams of becoming a star without his fans. He loved to interact with them and make them happy.

But there came a point where even Mettaton grew weary of the constant rushing and chattering and begging.

He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that their flight from Los Angeles had been put off for five hours because of mechanical troubles on the plane. On the one hand, they'd gotten back to Auckland Airport at nearly one in the morning, which meant that most people on the flight were too tired to notice that Mettaton was on the plane with them, which in turn meant he didn't have to deal with anyone. On the other hand, one in the morning was such an ungodly time to be awake when you had to be at work at 7 A.M., just another six hours away.

Mettaton yawned widely as he and his team exited the gate. He beckoned them all aside before they met their families and went to the baggage claim area.

"Alright, everyone, I know it's been a long four months, but things go back to normal tomorrow. I expect to see you all at work, 7 o'clock sharp, as usual," he said, trying to look firm and perhaps a bit intimidating.

Unfortunately, it was a little hard to look intimidating when you hadn't had a good sleep for almost twenty-four hours and had smudged makeup and mussed hair from napping. Everyone groaned openly, physically unable to care what their boss would think at that point.

"Mettaton, sir, you have to be joking. We haven't seen our families in four months!" Lily, his hairdresser, protested.

"We can't possibly work on less than six hours of sleep." His personal assistant and secretary, Whetu, looked as though she might cry.

Mettaton rubbed his temples; he felt as though he were developing a headache. Could he even do that? Don't change your mind, don't relent, you have to go in tomorrow, he reminded himself. He had to do paperwork, he had to look at his budget now that his tour was over, he had to schedule new events-

But really, who said he had to do all of that tomorrow? It wasn't like it was filming, which was difficult to postpone. Paperwork could wait.

"You know what, forget it. We're all taking the day off tomorrow-uh, today. I'll put in a call or something when I get home," Mettaton decided. "Get some rest, I'll expect to see you all-well, I guess I'll see you all Monday since it's Friday and most of you don't work weekends. 7 A.M. sharp, and don't any of you forget it."

"But Mettaton, sir..."

"What, Burgerpants?" the robot snapped.

"Who's going to cover my shift in the food court? They'll expect me to be there-"