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Teenagers are milling around everywhere, chatting excitedly with their friends and dates. Everyone is dressed as best as they can, with the exception of Sans, who barely passes the formal attire requirement. You still can’t believe Frisk brought him, of all people, to prom. You guess they brought him so everyone would be together, but still. You’re brought out of your thoughts by your boyfriend tugging on your hand. You turn, looking up into his beaming face.
“Yes, darling?” you ask, smiling back at him. His cheeks flush the slightest hint of pink as he glances away, one hand reaching up to tangle in the curls on the top of his head.
“I’m just… I’m so happy to be here with you,” he admits, uncharacteristically bashful. You sit in a state of shock for only a moment, before you’re mimicking his blushing expression. You lean into him, pressing your head to his sternum, smiling yourself.
“Me, too, Pappy,” you whisper, and the hand that had been in his hair comes down to rest against the middle of your back.
The two of you are pulled from your moment by a call of your names from a certain overbearing friend of Papyrus’s. Frisk is near the entrance of the building, Sans leaning against the wall next to them, Alphys and Undyne on their other side. Frisk is waving frantically for you to join the group, and you sigh good-naturedly while Papyrus laughs. You walk over to them, hand in hand, all of you easily merging into the line of students waiting to be admitted into prom. It takes longer than any of you would like to actually get into prom, but once you all have, it’s definitely worth it. Your prom committee did a fantastic job at making the place look fabulous, if you do say so yourself.
“Wowie! The place looks fantastic, Mateo!” Papyrus gushes, his smile radiant (as it always is). You glance away and blush – you’ve never been able to keep up your cool façade around Papyrus. His smile softens and he tugs you closer, pressing his face into your hair. You can’t bring yourself to scold him for messing up all your work to get your hair looking flawless. Papyrus’s attention is pulled by Undyne, and your smile turns the slightest bit bitter while Papyrus isn’t looking. There’s a weight in your chest, reminding you every moment of how you’re going to break this pure boy’s heart before the night is over.
… You decide not to dwell on it, for now. You’ll at least let him enjoy himself first.
Your smile is back on your face by the time Pap’s attention is back on you, and he’s grinning, face flushed with pure joy. He tugs you out onto the dance floor when the song changes.
The two of you dance to a few songs, barely in time with the beat and definitely forcing everyone around you to give you a wide berth. But you don’t care how silly you may look. You’re both laughing and doing your ridiculous dances until you need to take a break – Papyrus may be able to go all night, but you certainly aren’t. You take a seat at one of the little decorated tables while Papyrus goes to get you something to drink.
You look around the crowd, watching all the happy teenagers (and the one adult – Sans). Speaking of which, Frisk is trying their hardest to get Sans to dance – but mostly it’s Frisk dancing while Sans stands there. You sigh at how cute Frisk looks in their little tuxedo, compared to Sans’ pathetic attempt at formal wear. He’s wearing sneakers for Pete’s sake! To prom!
Undyne and Alphys are sitting at another table, not looking at each other, not touching, just blushing something awful. They really need to get together, you think. Everyone can see their mutual crush – except for them, apparently. You smile, though, because Alphys looks adorable in her sparkly, polka-dotted dress, and Undyne looks much like a prince in her tuxedo. Like the characters of a fairytale.
… A lesbian fairytale.
You’re brought out of your thoughts by your boyfriend’s return, drinks in hand.
“Sorry I took so long! There was a line at both of the refreshment tables!” he apologizes, smiling, and hands you your drink as he sits down.
“It’s perfectly fine, hun, I don’t mind,” you tell him, leaning against his shoulder when he scoots his chair closer to yours. The two of you sit in a little bubble of your own, silent in spite of the blaring music and chatter around you. You hum thoughtfully, watching Papyrus’s brother and Frisk. “Do you know why Frisk brought Sans to prom?” you whisper to Papyrus, watching the two in question. Papyrus seems to think for a moment, then shrugs.
“I have an idea, but… I don’t think it’s my place to question Frisk’s motives,” he says, looking contemplative. You make a face, and he laughs when he catches it. “Look at Sans, though. He rarely looks that happy,” Papyrus muses, watching his brother and Frisk with a soft smile. You can’t really see a difference in Sans’ current expression and his usual expression… But you suppose that Papyrus would know his brother better than you would.
Your happy expression sobers into something sad as you think about what you’ll have to do before the night is over. Papyrus looks so happy. You look away from his face, laughing as he watches his brother half-ass an attempt at dancing. You can barely look at his face knowing you’re going to ruin everything.
You’re the worst boyfriend ever.
“Mateo? Are you okay?” Papyrus’s voice pulls you from your self-deprecating thoughts, and you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine, darling! It’s prom! I’m just so happy to be here with you,” you say, blending lies with the truth as you echo what he said to you earlier that night. He blushes, as expected, and gives you a not-quite-believing look. The song changes, and he stands and tugs you off of your chair.
“Dance with me?” he asks, biting his lip from his own nerves, the slow piano playing over your heads. You smile softly at him, nodding your consent. He guides you to the dance floor and wraps his arms around your waist. You put yours around his neck. The two of you sway to the music, and as you rest your head against his chest, you catch a glance of Alphys and Undyne awkwardly dancing at the edge of the crowd, still unable to look at each other. You think, between pairs of dancers, you see Sans and Frisk, but you can’t be sure.
Both the song and the night are nearing their ends. You need to do it. You need to tell him. You lift your head from your – too good for you – boyfriend’s chest.
“Pap,” you whisper, but not really because the music’s too loud, but you try to keep quiet anyway. He looks down at you, smiling falling into a rare frown as he sees the look on your face. You bitterly think about how you’re the cause of that frown. You’re the one who made the always smiling Papyrus frown. You swallow nervously and look away. “Pappy, dear, I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” he asks, quiet, for once in his life. Or as quiet as he can be in this setting. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the horrible thing you’re about to do.
“I’m…leaving, Pap. Tomorrow. I got…contacted by an agent. She said she could really get me famous, y’know? I just… I can’t pass it up,” you babble out, but of course the dam is burst and there’s no stopping the heartache now. “I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t want to wait until prom. I didn’t want to wait until the day before, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I know I’m the worst, the actual worst, and I’m so sorry. But I’m going to California tomorrow, and I couldn’t tell you because I’m the world’s worst boyfriend. It is me,” you choke a little at the end, your throat closing up on your words. And then you’re being smashed against Papyrus’s chest, and you aren’t sure why. He’s holding onto you so tight, and you know he doesn’t want to let you go, but he has to eventually, and he does. He pulls away, looking down at you with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.
“I’m so happy for you,” he says, and you stare at him in shock. He makes a sound that maybe is supposed to be a laugh, but to you it sounds more like a sob. You ask him why. Why is he happy for you, when you’re doing this to him? “You’re following your dreams,” he tells you. Despite your efforts to squash them down, tears start to spill over. My makeup’s gonna be ruined, you think, idly, in the back of your mind. He chokes out a half-laugh, half-sob, and reaches up to wipe some of the tears away. “Please don’t cry,” he pleads, leaning his forehead against yours. You hiccup rather inelegantly, tightening the grip of your arms around his neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” you tell him. You really don’t.
“You deserve the world,” he tells you. You almost believe him.
“How are you happy for me? Why aren’t you even a little upset with me?” you ask him.
“I am upset. But not with you. Never with you. I’m upset I won’t be able to spend as much time with you, but I’m happy you’re following your dreams. How many times do I have to tell you that?” he responds, and you huff out a breath that maybe is supposed to be a laugh. His expression turns questioning and almost afraid. “We… We can still date, right? Just long distance?” he asks, looking at you with hope and desperation. You take his face in your hands, kissing him softly.
“Of course. I could never leave you, in that sense,” you reassure him, and he lets out a wet laugh that’s more like a relieved sigh. Your hands fall down to his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here, huh?” you offer, and he seems even more relieved now. The two of you split off from the crowd, gathering your things and signing out. His hand never leaves the small of your back all the way to the car. He holds open the door for you, like he always does, closing it only when you’re situated.
He gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car, but you stop him from pulling out of the parking spot just yet. He looks at you, moist eyes questioning.
“You never told me how you’re happy for me. You said the reason why is because I’m following my dreams, but you never told me how,” you mumble, and he lets out a soft laugh, backing out of the spot and onto the road despite your attempts to keep him parked. You watch his face curiously.
“What did I tell you the first time we officially met?” he asks you instead, and your brow furrows in confusion. He glances at you when he’s stopped at a red light and laughs again. He takes a breath, looking at you with so much love in his eyes you forget how to breathe for a moment.
“I’m your biggest fan.”