Change in The Air

Mettaton Ex has always felt like a boy trapped inside of a girls body. He's always liked boys. He's always felt different.


1. We All Have Scars

A chill ran down my spine and I tugged at the sleeves of my pink sweater, not only because I was insecure about the cuts on my arm, but because it was freezing. 

Why was I here anyway? I hated the cold and it was really dark outside. However, somehow I just couldn't resist going for a walk, even if it was the middle of January. I really felt as though I needed some air, a little time for myself. My cousin, Nabstablook, who I lived with because my parents kicked me out a few years ago, always said that walking was good for bad days. 

"It helps release some of the pain. Just being alone, continuously moving... I don't really know."

"It just feels nice?" I offered.

He nodded. "Something like that."

I trudged through the snow, the water seeping into my not-so-waterproof pink boots. He was right, despite the cold, it wasn't too bad. I suddenly heard kids laughing and I looked around, noticing I was walking by the local playground. I watched a little boy who was probably about eight or nine years old throw a snowball at who appeared to be his sister.  The motion of his wrist reminded me of the way Kate and her pack of vicious girls punched me earlier. The flashback enveloped my mind and I stumbled back into a pile of snow at the memory. I could almost hear her laughter again.

"Tommy!" The little girl shrieked, and this brought me back to reality.

She grinned, reaching down into the snow and making her own snowball. When she raised her arm to throw, I looked away. 

I hauled myself out of the snow and my clothes were soaked and it felt like there was an icicle growing out of my butt. I slowly made my way back home because I knew at this point the walk was just going to be uncomfortable. 

When I opened up the door, the lights were dimmed and I saw my uncle passed out on the couch with an unlit cigarette in between two fingers. The beer bottle beside him suggested that he'd been drinking for most of the day.

I sighed, walking down the hall and into Nabstablooks room. He didn't even hear me come in, probably because he had his signature pair of headphones clamped down on his ears. He was bobbing his head to the music, staring at the wall in front of him.

"Hey," I said, kicking my boots off, which I was disappointed to see were completely ruined because of the snow.

He looked up and when he saw me he smiled and tore the headphones from his head. His silvery hair glimmered in the moonlight streaming in from his window.

"Hey, Mettaton."

I sat down on the bed next to him and pulled out my laptop, logging into my fanfiction account. Nabstablook watched me do this.

"One day, they'll be writing this stuff about you," He said.

"Balonie," I replied, "No one wants to write about a wannabe freak."

Nabstablook punched my shoulder lightly.

"What was that for?" 

"For calling yourself that."

I frowned. "Calling myself a wannabe or a freak?"


I rolled my eyes, trying to avoid his sympathetic look.

"Metta, you're not a freak. You were born in the wrong body, there's nothing wrong with being true to yourself. Besides, you'll be famous someday, I know it."

"Yeah," I said, "Right."

Suddenly I felt my sleeve fall and I hurriedly pushed it back up, but not before Nabstablook's eyes grew wide.

"Metta," He whispered and I felt tears well up in my eyes.

"It's not what it looks like."

"What is it, then?"

I racked my brain for something to say.


"You what? You fell again?"


He shook his head and reached for my arm. I tried to pull away but he was already pushing up my sleeve. 

"Why did you do this?" He asked, surveying them with horror as if he didn't already know.

"Don't act like you don't do it, too." 

He frowned. "I stopped."

"Yeah, but the scars are still there. You did it, no denying."

"Fine, I did it," He sighed, "But that's besides the point."

I looked away as I said, "I did it because everyone thinks I'm a freak." 

"You're not a-" 

"I know that you think I'm not, but not everyone agrees with you!"

There was a moment of silence where I knew he was trying not to cry. 

"I'm going to sleep," I whispered, shutting my laptop and carrying it into my room, slamming the door behind me.





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