Forever Young

In a world where you do not age after the age of 19 until you meet your soulmate, Mettaton wants to live forever. How must he do that? By killing his one true love.
Human!Au
Yes, @YaPrtyMuch and I are writing stories with the same plot. We have agreed to do this and are not copying one another.

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1. Introduction

A man with black hair that framed his porcelain face and deep green eyes stood in a dimly lit alley, the smoke from his cigarette puffing into the darkness and lingering for a moment in front of his eyes. He watched it fade into the air and took another drag while he waited. 

He was waiting for someone who he, according to them, loved a lot. He grinned wickedly, it was far too easy to manipulate people those days. Especially those who believed they had met their soulmate. 

They had, in fact, but this man wasn't about to return the love. Being with his soulmate would result in his aging, and living forever was far more appealing than falling in love. The idea of growing old with someone sickened him. 

He glanced down at the name on his palm, Jonathan Bellefleur. He was meeting him here in just a few hours, his soulmate. He wouldn't feel bad about killing him. He never did. They would simply be reincarnated and he could live his life freely for at least another twenty years. 

Yes, what this man did was horrible, twisted and terrible, he so cold hearted he would rather kill his soulmate and live forever rather than live his life with someone who cared about him, who loved him and die in peace. The worst part was, he even took pride in it.

The time had come once again for him to kill an unsuspecting, innocent lover. 

A small part of him had always yearned for love, to be loved, he'd been abused by his parents growing up and had never felt wanted. He never learned how to love. His cousin, the only person he could confide in had committed suicide at a young age and he had heard his aunt and uncle whispering to each other at the funeral about how bad they felt for his soulmate, his soulmate who would have to wait many, many years before finding love. That was when Mettaton got his idea. 

When he stopped aging at the age of 19, a year later he met his soulmate, Randy, a cute man who's smile made him feel butterflies and things he had never felt before. He didn't want to kill Randy, the boy who made him happier than he'd ever been, but his thirst for immortality overpowered his affection. He would never forget the terror in his soulmate's eyes when it happened, never forget how horrible he felt. It had been 1,000 years since, though, and he had not a drop of regret or guilt to spare any longer. He actually enjoyed watching the light leave his lover's eyes. 

The echoing of footsteps pulled the twisted man out of his thoughts and he threw the cigarette to the ground stomping it under his high-heeled boot. He slicked his hair back and shrugged his pink, leather jacket tighter over his shoulders by the collar as he watched the figure come closer. 

"Mettaton?"

"Good to see you too, darling."

Jonathan let out a sigh of relief, his face coming into view in the faint light coming from a far off streetlamp. 

"Why did you ask me to meet you out here?"

Mettaton let out a hollow laugh.

"I have a surprise for you."

"Oh? Must I receive it in such a dark alleyway?"

"Yes, yes you must."

Mettaton stepped closer until he was inches away from Jonathan, who's eyes were filled with doubt. 

"First, before I give you your gift, could I... give you a hug?"

Jonathan smiled lightly. 

"Of course, my love."

Jonathan held out his arms and Mettaton wrapped his around his waist. He let one hand move back to his pocket and pulled out his beloved dagger. 

"I'm sorry," He whispered into Jonathan's ear, although he really wasn't. 

Jonathan gasped as the knife sunk into his back. Mettaton yanked it out, stepping back and watching the poor man fall to his knees. He watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, he fell to the ground and was still.

Mettaton dragged the bloody body to the nearby dumpster, dunking it in. 

He felt nothing. 

 

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