[He allows himself to be gathered up. The most he moves in the process is to press the bottle between both of his palms for safekeeping, just in case, because what if it falls? What if it breaks, what would he do then? He doesn't know how to cope with this, and it's easier to hold onto things than people anyway.]

That's not really a present. I don't want the last thing you remember of me to be weakness.

[Curling further under Mettaton's chin, he looks out at nothing much. There's wetness on top of his head. Did--]

[Oh. His mouth forms into a flat, unhappy line.]

I was going to ask why you're going. But I've already made you cry, haven't I? See, I'm no good at this.