Archive of Our Own

The seemingly infinite halls of the meteor never stop being so daunting, you think as you make your way to the common room that had essentially become the local gathering place. It’s been two years now, stuck here with a couple trolls and only your ecto-sister as human company. You have nothing against the trolls, not really. They’re pretty okay, but you’re not really friends or anything.

Kanaya is okay in your book, if only because she means so much to Rose, but it’s not like you have very much extended interaction. Actually, for the most part, you tend to avoid sharing words with her at all. Again, not that you have anything against her, just … what the Hell would you even talk to her about?

From what you know, or rather from what Rose has gushed to you about, Kanaya is way into fashion and she enjoys a good book. Neither of those things are of particular interest to you. It’s not like you can just look at her and say ‘hey, yeah, does my ass look fat in these jeans?’, nor would you. Your ass is the choicest, anyway.

Terezi is just a weird girl. She’s pretty cool, you admit, but holy shit she’s so weird and can sometimes be a little more than terrifying. She’ll never hear those words come out of your mouth. It’s a secret you’ll be keeping under lock and key and sealed away in Alcatraz, because fear is for weak pussies and you are only the toughest dude. It is you.

Besides, you can’t really interact with her since she’s always off prancing about with her monorail or whatever. Vriska is just … Vriska. She’s a bitch and you would rather never have to share a single blessed syllable with her ever. Yeah, okay, she’s good at the whole ‘let’s make shit happen’ thing, and is actually pretty good at keeping everyone in line, but still. Fuck her.

And that just leaves … Karkat. He’s … well, what really is there to say on Karkat? He’s a shouty, angry little dude who has a filthier mouth than the only working toilet in an entire prison after they serve some questionable chili, which is honestly really fucking hilarious, and he loves romcoms and defends even the most terrible ones with a passion. Honestly, he’s the resident expert on romance. Does that about sum up what Karkat’s deal is? Probably.

You admit that of all of the trolls, Karkat is probably the easiest to talk to. He’s all bark and no bite, swearing and threatening in his colorful way but never actually lifting a finger to follow through. Still, you don’t actually have much in common so you don’t talk to him much.

Speaking of the guy, you hear his voice long before you actually step into the common room. It’s unsurprising that when you get there you find him sitting on the couch with Kanaya and Rose, ranting at the fashionable vampire troll about something you don’t care to really listen to. The lights are out and the three of them cast huge shadows on the wall from the light of the laptop they’ve got on the table before them. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that the three of them were watching a movie.

Karkat pauses only for a split second to cast his eyes on you, the only acknowledgement you get before he’s back to talking to Kanaya about the pros and cons of the particular black pairing in the movie they’re watching. Kanaya must have the patience of a saint, since she’s actually paying attention and nodding or shaking her head to what he says. Huh, look at that, you actually did care to listen to what he had to say.

Rose gets up while they talk, practically sliding up to your side like a cat. “This movie was supposed to be over an hour ago.” She says in a calm, slightly irritated tone, but you know your ecto-sister well enough that you can see the amusement in her eyes.

“Sure looks like he’s pretty into whatever he’s going on about.” You say, with a little nod towards the two trolls.

“He is. He’s paused the movie no less than thirteen times.” Waving a hand, she dismisses the topic and you almost groan because you know exactly what that particular hand wave means. This is it, here it comes. She’s about to ask you something about yourself in her psychoanalysis way, because you’re about as interesting as a rat in a maze of cheese.

“What about you, Dave? We haven’t seen much of you for at least a few days now, and I highly doubt you’ve been sitting around twiddling your thumbs.”

Yep, there it is.

You open your mouth to make some sick metaphor, but as you do so all of the will to be hilariously ironic dies in your throat. It literally shrivels up and turns to dust. Lays down and dies like a rabbit to a wolf. Your jaw snaps shut and you just scowl at her in frustration.

This has been an increasingly common occurrence recently. Maybe it’s because you’ve got so much time to just sit around and really think, maybe it’s because you don’t really have anyone to talk to, you don’t know, but you’ve been feeling literal oceans of insecure.

It’s like someone ripped a bandaid off of an old wound, or broke the dam or some shit, because lately all you can think about are things you never wanted to think about literally ever again. You’ve been thinking about your Bro, your life before the game, and it was only yesterday that it really, truly dawned on you that you’re actually really scarred by it all. The strifing, the constant tiptoeing around the one place that you should feel safe, paranoia of being stalked by a God damn puppet.

It haunts you, and it’s maybe had more of an impact on you than you want to admit.

It’s sapped virtually all your energy and killed all your motivation to do anything. You don’t even have it in you to rap or make sick beats, and you sincerely, unironically love to do that. It’s all just been building and building in you, and you’ve started to see the signs yourself that you’re getting a bit jumpy.

You really want to talk to someone about it, but the only person you can maybe trust with that vulnerability is John. And of course, as is par for the course, John isn’t here and there’s no way to contact him. Rose cares about you, you know that, but what you really need is for someone to relate to what you’re feeling, not to tell you how to get over it.

Okay, so maybe you could actually benefit from therapy. Maybe. But first … first you just want to vent. And you’ve got no one to do that with. You could spill it all out for the Mayor- hell, you have done that. The little dude is so great and he listens to your problems and cheers you up, but he’s not really that great at the whole ‘relating-to-the-situation’ thing. Really more of a simple mind, that one.

It’s frustrating, and there’s nothing you can do.

You’ll just have to suck it up like a big boy and deal with your shit yourself.

It’s that thought in mind that makes you roll your shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’m so cool, Rose. I mean it, cool as a cucumber that’s been left in the snow deep in Antarctica.” You tell her, because of course it’s your nature to deflect with something totally cool like that.

She raises a brow. “That’s not very convincing, nor does it explain what you’ve been up to.” Rose jabs a finger accusingly into your chest. “I think you’re losing your edge, dear Strider.”

“Ouch.” You feign hurt, placing a hand dramatically over your heart. “You wound me, Rose. How could you tell me I am not single-handedly the edgiest being in the room?”

You really wish you could talk to her.

Rolling her eyes, the Seer before you apparently gives up on the interrogation as you see her deflate some. “Alright, fine. You’ve probably just been spending a lot of time with the Mayor, anyway.” She doesn’t sound anywhere near convinced, but at least she’s laying off.

“Damn straight.” You say, and quickly change the topic before she can keep needling you if she changes her mind. Your gaze goes to Karkat and Kanaya, who have returned to watching the movie in relative silence. “What’s up with Karkat, anyway? I know the dude can go on some serious tangents, but I don’t think he’s ever talked that much.”

Something flickers across Rose’s face, and suddenly she looks like she’s sorry for the troll, which is odd because you don’t think she really cares for him all that much. Does she? No, she’s into Kanaya. They’re girlfriends or the troll equivalent, mate-spirits or something, so she probably doesn’t have time to worry about the little grouch.“Honestly?” She says, her voice suddenly low as if her words need be kept secret. “I think he’s been lonely.”

“How so?” You ask, because it just seems so … unlike Karkat. You don’t know that much about him, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to just get lonely. Seriously, it’s more like anger and rage are his only emotions.

“Think about it, Dave.” Rose says, her voice still quiet. “He was never very close to Vriska, so they don’t spend time together, and since Terezi is almost always with her he doesn’t see her either. Which leaves only Kanaya, but I do admit that she and I have been a bit … otherwise preoccupied as of late.”

You think about it, and you realize that it’s probably actually really true. Karkat’s got only a few people to actually relate to, literally only three other trolls to talk to, but none of them have time for him. Plus, wasn’t there some situation with his monorail, the clown guy? If you were him, you’d probably be half out of your mind.

But still, Karkat? Lonely and brooding? You just can’t see it. He’s always so wordy and got so much fire.

You shrug, but you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything. Instead, you turn to leave the room again since there’s nothing for you to do here. Well, the real reason is because you just don’t have the energy to do social interaction right now. When did you ever, for that matter?

It surprises you how much over the next several days that you actually think about what Rose said about Karkat. It surprises you even more when you realize how much you can relate to the loneliness you’re still not totally convinced he feels.

It started off as you thinking that maybe you’re really the lonely one, with no one but Rose to actually talk to, but it very quickly shifted gears and you started to spend a lot of time thinking about Karkat. You wondered if he really might be feeling alienated and alone, even if there’s not really any evidence to support that theory, and the first few times you just thought ‘nah’ because he’s got nothing to really be all upset over, right?

But the thoughts followed you like a plague until you eventually started to get frustrated. And, okay, you totally didn’t begin to stalk him. That is absolutely not what you did. You just … started to actually pay attention. Maybe it was because you have nothing better to do? Whatever. Point is, whenever you saw him, you would really scrutinize him.

He was already pretty fucking thin to begin with, but you start to really notice it when he loses some weight, when he talks less and less, and when he gets grouchier and just seems tired all the time. This change happens almost dangerously quickly, but you haven’t said more than three words at a time to him or called him out nonetheless.

He’s not your friend, and that’s probably for the best anyway. You have a history of just hurting people. Seriously, and with how damaged you are, you really don’t want to dump your baggage on anyone.

But you still really wish you had someone to talk to.

You’re wandering through the corridors of the meteor again, lost in your own head as usual at an unfathomable hour. Time, of course, is more or less just a concept on the meteor and there’s no routine, but you’re the fucking Knight of Time. You literally always know what time it is, and currently it is 4:57 AM on a Tuesday.

You’re currently on your way to Can Town, in particular need of venting a bit to the Mayor. It’s been getting worse. Your insecurities gnaw at you. Sometimes you swear you see the blur of a flashstep, you swear you see Cal’s stupid face out of the corner of your eye, you swear up and fucking down that you hear the clang of metal on metal.

You’re slowly going insane. It’s happening. You’re literally losing all your marbles as they spill out on the floor and roll away, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You pass through the common area, trying to walk a little faster and ignore the disturbing feeling of being watched over your shoulder, but you stop when you realize that the room isn’t actually empty. Karkat’s sitting on the floor against one wall, slumped down a bit in what you think has got to be an uncomfortable position. His eyes are glued to his phone, but he’s not typing and there’s no volume, so you wonder if he’s literally just staring at his screen.

There’s a perpetual scowl on his face, his eyes half-lidded, and wow, he really looks fucking miserable. He looks defeated, he looks lonely, he looks like he’s maybe thinking about the same kind of heavy shit that you usually are nowadays. It hits you in the chest in a weird way.

The last time you looked into a mirror, you had the exact same look stare right back at you.

The troll blinks and lifts his eyes, as if suddenly realizing you’re standing there staring like an idiot, and instantly his expression twists into one you’re more familiar with. In exactly 2.34 seconds, Karkat Vantas is no longer so sad and broken, and instead he looks more alive and irritated with life in general.

But you know.

You know.

It’s just a mask, and there’s more to him than you previously thought.

“What?” He snaps, his lip curling as if baring his fangs like a pissed off coyote has ever seriously bothered you.

“What’s wrong?”

You almost say it, you really almost do, but you can’t. You can’t get close to him. You can’t let yourself fall into the sense of security you always feel with friends. Besides, even if Karkat isn’t saying it, he’s damaged and broken up inside. You see it like the brightest star in the sky, there’s no hiding it from you.

Not when you radiate that same light.

Not trusting yourself to say a single word, you just shrug like the typical douchebag you are and turn to keep walking.

You try to tell yourself that you won’t do anything about it. You really do. You try to tell yourself that, okay, Karkat’s damaged too. Awesome. Wait, no, not awesome. What the fuck? People suffering is not awesome. Anyway, you try to tell yourself you won’t let it change anything, that there’s no need to try and be a knight in shining armor. He doesn’t need rescuing.

And you manage.

For not even three hours.

After talking to the Mayor--or trying, since you were incredibly distracted the whole time--you abscond back to your room where you flop down onto your bed and stare up at the ceiling. Yep, just like you always do nowadays. Is it pathetic that you’ve really got nothing better to do with your time? You think it’s probably pathetic.

Not for the first time in the last few hours, your mind is dragged to him. You weren’t even able to keep him out of your chat with the Mayor. For the first time, you had really addressed the fact that maybe you’re not as alone as you thought? Well, Karkat doesn’t have a particularly terrible history like you do, at least not as far as you know, but maybe he can relate to being so … lonely?

Only two and a half minutes pass before you find yourself reaching for your phone.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TG: yo
TG: yo karkat
TG: karkles
TG: karkitty
TG: kitkat
TG: oh thats good i like that one
CG: DEAR SWEET MERCIFUL TROLL JEGUS, STRIDER.
CG: YOU HAVE LITERALLY SAID ONLY A DOZEN WORDS TO ME AND ALREADY I WANT TO GOUGE MY EYES OUT WITH A RUSTY FORK. MAYBE I’LL EVEN DROP THEM IN ACID FOR GOOD MEASURE.
TG: dude that would be so sick
CG: IT WOULD BE VERY SICK. YOU WOULD LITERALLY VOMIT FOR THREE FUCKING SWEEPS BECAUSE IT WOULD BE THAT SICK.
CG: JUST.
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?
TG: hey man i just wanted to chat
TG: yknow
TG: like normal friends do
CG: WHAT THE FUCK.
CG: SINCE WHEN ARE WE FRIENDS?
TG: wow
TG: you wound me karkat
TG: ouch
TG: i am wounded
TG: gonna need some serious surgery man like you have literally torn my heart out of my chest
TG: and let me tell you that shit doesnt just go back in on its own
TG: so you better have some seriously reliable doctors on call because man i dont think i can live that long without a heart
CG: I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS ABOUT THIS CONVERSATION ALREADY.
TG: do not go gentle into that good night
TG: im dying karkat
TG: the longer i go without a doctor the more likely i am to die
CG: OH MY GOD.
CG: FINE. I’LL INDULGE YOU.
CG: BUT IF I WAS THE ONE TO RIP YOUR BLOOD PUSHER OUT OF YOUR PATHETICALLY SOFT AND WEAK HUMAN THORAX, WHY WOULD I CALL A DOCTOR?
CG: CLEARLY SUCH AN ACTION WOULD DICTATE THAT I WANTED YOU DEAD.
TG: nah man it was clearly an accident
CG: WHAT.
TG: i mean obviously it was an accident
TG: were friends and friends dont just rip each others hearts out
TG: like seriously man thats the first part of the bro code
CG: FUCK YOU.
CG: I AM SO DONE INDULGING YOU.
CG: LOOK.
CG: I’M GATHERING FROM THIS ENTIRE DISASTER OF A CONVERSATION THAT YOU’RE TRYING TO TELL ME WE’RE FRIENDS?
TG: the best of friends
TG: best bros
TG: like shit you better believe youre competing with john
TG: hurry up and impress me before egderp gets ahead of you
CG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVER WANT TO IMPRESS YOU?
TG: maybe you just want a piece of my sweet strider ass
CG: I’M GOING TO VOMIT.
CG: EVERYWHERE.
CG: ON THOSE WORDS.
CG: ON YOU.
CG: ON YOUR THINGS.
TG: hey man whatever youre into
TG: but i have to say that i think by then half the meteor will be under quarantine like its the zombie fucking apocalypse up in this joint
TG: gasp
TG: karkat are you a zombie
CG: WHAT?
TG: oh man you are arent you
TG: oh shit does that make me a necrophiliac
TG: well thats some kinky shit right there karkat i didnt know you swung that way
CG: STOP.
TG: fuck no this train has left the station
TG: all aboard for a one way trip to kinksville population dave and karkat
TG: theres no going back man
TG: were doing it
TG: were making it happen
CG: I HAVE NEVER WANTED SOMETHING TO *NOT* HAPPEN MORE THAN THIS.
TG: and yet here you are still talking to me
TG: if you dont want any of this patented strider ass you can just say so
TG: your loss
TG: people everywhere are literally starving karkat
TG: theyre starving for my ass and here i am just giving it to you
TG: but you dont want it
CG: HOLY SHIT.
CG: NO.
CG: FUCK YOU.
TG: i mean if youre offering
CG: UGH.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TG: haha man youre so easy
TG: good talk kitkat
TG: we should do this again sometime

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

Despite that conversation maybe not going exactly how you thought it would, you grin to yourself. It was actually incredibly entertaining and it gives you a small sense of peace and normalcy that you haven’t felt in a long time. Being able to just banter and rant at someone … It feels good.

Karkat’s a little hard to interpret, but you’re pretty sure he’s not really as put off by that exchange as he’s making it seem. Of course, he wouldn’t really be Karkat if he didn’t put up a fuss and be so dramatic. It’s literally part of who he is.

You lay there and stare at the ceiling again, and you decide that you should make it more of a habit to talk to Karkat Vantas.

You keep to your silent vow, spending a lot of time over the next few days talking to Karkat. Not to his face, of course, because you have a habit of mucking up real social interactions, but over Pesterchum. He never complains about it, and by the time you have your fourth conversation he seems to be less skeptical about your motives.

You’re currently sitting in Can Town with the Mayor, the two of you working on building it up, but your thoughts keep getting dragged back to Karkat. You’re not obsessed or anything, fuck no, it’s just that he’s fun to talk to and while you’ve got his attention, everything feels a little less gloomy. It actually feels … okay.

After your hands start to get a bit twitchy, you sigh in defeat and move over a bit, leaning against the colorful wall that the Mayor has been drawing some sick mural on. He’s a really talented little dude, that’s for sure. Your phone is in your hands before you can even try to not seem desperate. Thank God the Mayor never judges you.

He’s such a rad guy.

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

TG: hey kitkat my man
TG: my main man
TG: my best bro
CG: WHY DO ALL OF OUR CONVERSATIONS BEGIN LIKE THIS? WHY THE SHITTING FUCK CAN’T YOU JUST SAY ‘HELLO’ LIKE A NORMAL PERSON AND WAIT FOR MY RESPONSE LIKE A *NORMAL FUCKING PERSON*, ASSSPONGE?
TG: wow okay and here i was just wanting to make sure you know how important you are to me
TG: like damn man cant a bro be totally unironic and cool about telling his best bro how awesome he is
CG: WHATEVER.
CG: IS THIS IMPORTANT, STRIDER? I’M BUSY.
TG: too busy to talk to lil old me
TG: eyelash flutter
TG: doe eyes
TG: puppy dog whine
TG: wait no scratch that last one thats just dumb
CG: IT’S ACTUALLY REALLY FUCKING HARD TO WATCH A MOVIE WITH YOUR INFURIATING RED TEXT BEING DISTRACTING AND GLARING AT ME.
TG: how could you not invite me to this slumber party dude i thought we were closer than that
TG: why must you crush me in this way karkat
TG: but its fine
TG: its cool
TG: i see how it is

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t keep rambling on at him. He’s clearly busy and you actually really don’t want to piss him off. Did that once, and it wasn’t fun. Your chat history has a particular huge wall of gray text, full of insults and threats and curses that you really don’t want a repeat of.

You feel a bit … dejected. Which is stupid. Karkat doesn’t exist solely to entertain you. He has a life too, and you can’t expect him to revolve it around you. Not for the first time you find yourself wishing that you had the social skills to just walk up to the guy and sling an arm around him all cool-like, maybe drawl out a ‘what’s hanging, dude?’

You really want to find the courage to have an actual conversation with him and not be so worried about being all touchy-feely like that. After all, there’s nothing scandalous about a brohug.

You put your phone down in your lap, and you’re about to go back to dicking around with the Mayor when the device dings at you. You totally don’t whip it around faster than the speed of light to see who messaged you. Like you have to guess.

CG: ARE YOU SAYING YOU WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE WITH ME?

You freeze.

What should you say? You haven’t actually hung out before. Let alone just the two of you. Would it be awkward? Does he even want you there? His question doesn’t give you any insight. But you have to answer him or else you’ll seem like a dodgy coward, and you … honestly really maybe could benefit from chilling with him? Maybe?

You’re not sure if you’re ready to do that, though. Karkat seems to get along great with Kanaya and you’ve seen him have an actual conversation with Rose, but you are a walking disaster when it comes to shit like this.

With John it’s different, because you’ve been best bros for literally your entire life. He knows all of your deepest, darkest shit and still likes you, ironic douchebag and all. You know that nothing you do could make him hate you. But Karkat? Karkat is still virtually a stranger. You don’t know his boundaries at all and part of you isn’t convinced that he wouldn’t punch you in the face if you fucked up.

But you really want him to be your friend.

Whoa, hold up, thoughts. Stop that shit. That’s pretty desperate. You are really not that lonely that you’ll leap at the chance to make friends with Karkat. You are not just gonna slither up to him like a snake and hiss ‘heeeey man’ all casual-like. Fuck that.

You look back at your phone, realizing it’s been several minutes since he last messaged you. Okay, say something before it gets weird, Dave. Play it cool.

TG: why wouldnt i dude
TG: were bros
TG: bros hang out and chill and watch movies all the time
TG: duh

There’s another extended pause, long enough for you to get antsy. Were you too forward? Did you read his intentions wrong? Shit. Shit, he’s gonna think you’re a tool. Fuck. You’ve fucked up. You, Dave Strider, are a monumental moron. You-

CG: COME TO MY BLOCK THEN, I GUESS. BUT DON’T YOU DARE COMPLAIN ABOUT THE MOVIE I’VE GOT ON OR I WILL THROW YOUR ASS OFF THIS METEOR, I SWEAR.

Relief washes over you like a fucking tsunami in a desert and you literally slump against the wall. You didn’t fuck it up, and he does want you to hang out with him. Oh God. Okay. Breathe, Dave. You can do this. Don’t make shit awkward if it doesn’t need to be.

TG: cool

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

You rise to your feet, not about to keep Karkat waiting. After a quick apology to the Mayor and a promise that you’ll work extra hard on Can Town when you come back, you give him a fistbump and leave.

By some miracle, you remember where Karkat’s room is. When you get there, you reach for the doorknob before remembering that manners are a thing. You may be bros and bros have no qualms about just waltzing into each others’ space, but you have to remind yourself that Karkat is still essentially an acquaintance in some regards.

So you knock instead and shove your hands in the pockets of your godtier hoodie just to hide how fidgety they are. You do not want Karkat thinking you’re more nervous than you are. Hell, you hope he won’t be able to tell.

The door opens before you can wait long, and Karkat stands there looking up at you with his usual scowl. You notice not for the first time how he looks … malnourished. His shirt looks almost too big for him and his features are oddly sharper than you’re sure they should be. The dude seriously needs to take better care of himself, but you’re not about to harp on him for it. No way, not when you do a terrible job of taking care of yourself. Besides, you don’t want to ruin this.

“Sup?” You say, grateful when it comes out as casual and chill as you were hoping it would.

Karkat rolls his eyes dramatically, then steps aside. “Get the fuck in here before I change my mind.” He says, practically a growl even if it’s not even remotely threatening. You grin stupidly because, wow, he’s talking to you. He’s talking to you! It was only a handful of words, but he didn’t even include an insult in there!

You step into his block, looking around while he shuts the door.

With how terrible he looks, you expected his room to be worse. But it’s not. It’s … clean. Like, freakishly clean. There isn’t any clothing littered on the floor, there’s not a single piece of garbage, and you’re pretty sure the surfaces have been dusted. He also has like next to no furniture, just a couch and a coffee table which currently has just his laptop on it. There’s boxes all along one wall filled with what looks like a ton of random crap, evidence that he’s tidied up recently.

So … Is Karkat a clean freak?

“Fuck you, I’m not.” Karkat answers in an irritated snap, lip curled to show off his fangs, making you realize that you were thinking out loud. Oops. “We literally have nothing to do on this God forsaken meteor for another fucking year. I have to do something to pass the time and at least cleaning can be considered productive.”

“Right. Makes sense.” You say with a chuckle, extracting a hand from your pocket to wave the topic off before it sounds like you’re judging him. You don’t want him to think that, and this encounter is going pretty okay so far. Thank God. “So, movie, right?”

He frowns at you, gives a nod, and spins on his heels to go back over to the couch where he flops down and grabs the large, soft-looking black blanket he has there. While he’s adjusting to get comfortable, you follow after him and sit at the other end.

A glance at the laptop reveals that he was watching some troll movie and had paused it. Evidently it’s still near the beginning, because you’re pretty sure he’s the kind of guy who would have rewinded it otherwise. Without a word, Karkat reaches out and taps a key to unpause the movie.

You keep your head mostly facing forward towards the laptop, giving the illusion of watching the screen, and you absolutely do not continuously glance over at the troll next you. Nope. You don’t do that.

Okay, so you do actually do that.

It’s still a bit of a shock to your system that you’re literally sitting alone with Karkat in his room. Karkat, who you don’t really know much about. There’s nothing weird about watching a movie together, obviously, but it still feels awkward as all Hell.

You really want him to like you.

Holy shit, brain stop thinking that crap. Determined to just stop thinking at all, you let time pass and you keep glancing over at Karkat without actually moving your head. At first he’s just got the blanket around his shoulders, but as the movie goes on he shifts to lean over against the arm of the couch and the blanket ends up over his head, wrapped around him like a hood.

You wonder if this is the usual for him. Is it normal for him to curl up all adorable-like and just hunker down and watch movies? Wait, adorable? Nope, you didn’t think that.

He’s an open book, you quickly realize. Emotions cross his face at every scene of the movie that he’s totally absorbed in. Anything from a soft look to his lip twitching as if he personally relates to the characters and their struggles. Does he even remember you’re here?

The air feels awkward, at least to you, but if Karkat notices or is bothered, he doesn’t say.

After a bit you do actually stop looking at him and pay attention to the movie, hoping maybe it’ll help you feel less uncomfortable. It’s stupid, you think, that you can’t even relax in the presence of your friend.

The move turns out to be incredibly dramatic and romance-y and full of weird troll quadrant shit that is completely lost on you. Ugh, you should have paid attention before to all of the crap that you were told. Eventually you just get so confused that you lean over and pause the movie.

“Wait, okay, I’m confused.” You say. Karkat did this with Kanaya, so maybe this might make things a little less awkward, too. Maybe he likes to talk about his movies. You remember someone telling you that Karkat is super into romance, so asking questions about it would be cool, right? “I thought those two were kissmess-thingies? Isn’t that like hate-fucking and shit? Why are they being like super passionate and sugar-sweet?”

Karkat gives you a look like ‘are you serious? What the fuck, Strider?’, and then rolls his eyes. Just like that, the air feels thousands of levels less tense as the two of you fall into territory that isn’t very foreign. “They flipped from black to red, obviously.” He says as if it should be the most common of knowledge.

You blink at him, not that he can see because of your shades. “You can do that? I thought trolls just picked a square and stuck with it.”

“No, you moron.” The blanket falls from over Karkat’s head as he shakes it, revealing his nubby little horns again. Your eyes flick to them, and you wonder for a brief moment what trolls even use them for. You could see them being used as a weapon if they were big enough, like clow guy’s, but what happens if they break? Can troll horns even break?

“It’s called quadrant vacillation, and it’s a really fucking common occurrence.” Karkat goes on to say, effectively distracting you from those thoughts. “Trolls can flip from red to black or even pale to flushed or really any way. It really just depends on how strong the feelings are, but it can make a serious fucking mess of things. Like if, for example, two trolls who are matesprits flip and become kismesises but one of them already has a partner in that quadrant.”

“You don’t say.” You say, because what the Hell else are you supposed to say? You kind of get it, but holy shit why is troll romance so complicated? Difficult or not, Karkat seems to be pretty passionate about it and you really like to hear him talk. That’s not weird, right? “How can you even call ‘hate’ love, anyway? Isn’t that pretty much the exact opposite of love?”

“Maybe for your species’ stunted and pathetically tiny brains.” Karkat growls, then snorts and crosses his arms as the blanket drops to pool around his waist. “Black romance isn’t about literally despising someone to the point of wanting them dead. It’s about rivalry, admiring someone for their strengths even if it’s infuriating, and about aspiring to be better than them and to one-up them.”

You think about it for a moment, and even if it’s still such an alien concept- literally- you can sort of understand. Actually, you’re pretty sure it makes sense because it sounds almost freakishly accurate to how you idolized your Bro when you were younger. Obviously you weren’t attracted to him, ew no, but you can understand the emotion nonetheless. That need to always prove your worth, to be better than him even if that was never possible.

“So it’s like if your best bro is super good at drawing or something and you hate him for it because, wow, why can’t you be that fucking good, right? Like you’re jealous as fuck and you find that super attractive and you want to, like, prove you’re good at shit too?”

He thinks about it for a moment, then waves his hand in the universal sign for ‘eh, kind of’. “More or less, but it’s more complex than that.” He says. He waves his hand a bit. “Your human brain can’t possibly fully understand, so don’t overthink it and let’s just watch the rest of the movie.”

You open your mouth to protest, or maybe just ask another question, but Karkat’s already moving to unpause the movie. You shut your mouth and resign yourself to being quiet to watch the rest of the movie.

You don’t really watch it, though, so much as your thoughts wander. You wonder if Karkat’s got anyone in his quadrants, but quickly you come to the conclusion that he doesn’t. Rose mentioned that nobody’s paying any attention to him, and you’re pretty sure that if Karkat had a partner in any quadrant they would make time for him. Even a hate-lover.

Maybe he wouldn’t look so terrible.

A sharp, cold feeling smacks you in the chest and you flinch slightly. It takes a second in which you nearly panic to recognize it for what it is. It’s pity, and it’s the feeling of relating to his position. Karkat is just as alone as you are, just as alienated, and he’s hurting himself for it.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that he’s not eating as much, if at all, and probably not sleeping as much either. He looks so awful all the time and you find the incredible urge to make it better.

Part of you wants to be totally uncool and just reach over and hug him, but you don’t do that because you know he’ll probably shriek at you. From what you’ve seen, Karkat’s not that big on physical contact. Neither are you, really, unless it’s you initiating that contact.

But … Wow, you really want to hug him.

It isn’t until later, when the movie is over and you’ve left and made it halfway back to your room that it hits you suddenly that Karkat never raised his voice at you in his patented Karkat way. It’s basically his one thing, but he didn’t yell at you once.

You’re not sure how to feel about that.

You spend a lot of time watching movies and hanging out with Karkat after that. At some point you bring him to Can Town to chill with the Mayor, too, even if he’s grumpy and awkward about it the entire time. You’d thought he’d hated it, so you were really surprised when he asked you to go back. Of course you had said ‘hell yeah man, let’s do this, let’s make it happen’.

Can Town quickly became your hang out spot, even for when you watched movies. On those days, you would just pile a ton of blankets and pillows onto the floor and flop down on them with either yours or his laptop.

It was fucking awesome, and you quickly grew comfortable being in Karkat’s presence. Being around him soothed your anxieties, maybe just by the fact that you weren’t alone. When you were hanging out with the nubby-horned troll, you felt almost normal, like the game didn’t exist and you hadn’t been through any of its bullshit.

Karkat didn’t change, though, and when you finally noticed it you couldn’t not notice it. His health didn’t get worse, not really, but it didn’t get any better. He still looked tired and sad and entirely too thin all the time.

But you never brought it up.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: DAVE.
CG: DAVE, ARE YOU THERE?

You groan quietly and roll over on your bed, fumbling for your phone as it dings at you. It’s dark in your room, the lights out since you had been asleep and fuck sleeping with the lights on, so you accidentally knock the device onto the floor. It clatters halfway across the room, and you grumble irritably as you practically crawl out of bed and over to the phone.

When you reach it and grab it, you don’t bother to go back to your bed yet. Instead, you flop over onto your back on the floor, rubbing your eyes with one hand as you squint while you get used to the brightness of your screen.

CG: SHIT.
CG: FUCK, COME ON.
CG: BE AWAKE.
TG: what
TG: kitkat what the hell
TG: its like 3 am dude
CG: SHUT UP.
CG: NO WAIT, DON’T.
CG: JUST.
CG: TALK TO ME.
TG: what
TG: dude are you okay
CG: JUST FUCKING TALK TO ME.

You frown at your phone. You’re not quite awake and your head still feels a bit fuzzy, but a creeping feeling of worry is settling over you. This isn’t like Karkat. For one thing, he never calls you by your name, always calling you ‘Strider’ or some dumb insult.

He’s not even here, but you can practically hear panic behind those capitalized, angry-looking gray letters.

TG: uh okay
TG: about what
CG: ANYTHING.

He’s clearly bothered by something. Maybe having an anxiety attack? Does Karkat even get anxiety attacks? The guy can’t be afraid of much, if anything. But if he really is having an attack, you know from experience that asking him about it isn’t going to help. At least not right now.

So.

You do the only thing you can think to do.

You ramble.

TG: wow how specific
TG: you definitely deserve an award man
TG: the most vague award™
TG: like shit nobody else deserves it more than you
TG: excuse me sir but such an award doesnt even exist
TG: nah man fuck you they just invented it
TG: its the most prestigious award i mean they dont just give it to anybody
TG: and whats up with that anyway
TG: why dont they give awards to just anybody
TG: i mean why cant some random joe on the street get an award for
TG: like
TG: being completely unimportant
TG: the completely unimportant award™
TG: haha that would be so fucking awesome
TG: sucks though because id never win that award since everyone knows that striders are important
TG: so important
TG: the most important
TG: and profitable too
TG: like if dave strider was a drink
TG: the world wouldnt ever need to sell anything else ever again
TG: literally there would be trillions of dollars in dave strider soda™
CG: THAT’S DISGUSTING. NOBODY WOULD EVER DRINK THAT.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding when you see that line of gray break up the wall of red. Maybe it’s a sign that he’s starting to feel better? You wonder suddenly if maybe you should just go check on him.

No, he’d probably hate that. Nobody wants to be seen having a fucking breakdown. You most certainly don’t.

TG: aw why not
TG: it would be delicious
CG: BECAUSE IT WOULD TASTE LIKE GARBAGE AND UNLESS HUMANS CONSIDER GARBAGE A DELICACY, YOU CAN KISS THAT DREAM GOODBYE.
CG: YOU’D LOVE TO BE SHOVED INTO A BLENDER AND WHIPPED INTO A TERRIBLE RED GOO THOUGH, WOULDN’T YOU?
TG: damn straight man
TG: like how else do you make dave strider soda™
CG: WHAT WOULD HAPPEN WHEN YOU RUN OUT OF BODY PARTS TO PUREE THOUGH?
TG: not a problem dude
TG: theyve perfected cloning
TG: there are literally thousands of dave strider clones ready for that grinder
CG: THAT IS ABHORRENT. I WANT TO PUKE.
TG: but you havent even tried my drink
CG: I WILL NEVER DO THAT. MY LIPS WILL NEVER GO NEAR YOU OR ANY FUCKING PART OF YOU, AS A LIQUID OR OTHERWISE.
TG: my pride
TG: it burns
CG: YOU’RE AN IDIOT.
TG: yeah but i rock it dude
CG: AS IF.

Yeah, you think he’s feeling better. Maybe now you can get some answers?

TG: are you okay though like really
CG: I’M FINE, STRIDER.

Or not. You scowl at your phone, deciding to take the risk and press him for answers.

TG: didnt seem like it
TG: like dude you never call me dave what gives
CG: FUCK OFF. IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.
TG: so theres an it

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

For a long, long moment you just frown at the screen. Something was bothering Karkat, you’re absolutely fucking positive now, but he won’t talk to you. It’s odd though, since he originally came to you for help. You try not to feel dejected because of it, if only because you should be happy he came to you at all, even if he didn’t want to share his reasons.

You drop your phone to your chest, rubbing your eyes again, and sigh tiredly.

Fuck it. Karkat doesn’t want to talk so you won’t force him.

You rise sluggishly to your feet, phone in your pocket, and trudge back to your bed where you flop over, pull the blankets up to your chin, and close your eyes.

Karkat never does tell you what the Hell happened that night, nor does it happen again, but you start to notice when he begins to look worse and worse. You swear you have never met a more self-destructive guy. It becomes pretty much normal for his eyes to be dark and sunken, and you know without asking that he’s not sleeping.

You do, admittedly, try and ask him about it once but he just snaps at you that he’s ‘fucking fine, Strider, leave me the fuck alone’. So you don’t ask again, even though you want to. Despite his terrible moods and his obvious deterioration, you make an effort to subtly make him eat. Every time you hang out with him you bring something with you, even if it’s just a snack, and you usually find a way to coax him into eating it.

Because you care about him.

And you don’t even try to deny it anymore. He’s your friend, he’s crossed that line. He’s got you shackled to him and you’re not going anywhere. He knew what he was signing up for.

You care about him.

It’s a day like every other, you and Karkat are giving the Mayor a break and chilling in the troll’s room watching some movie- one you got to pick this time. You’ve seen it like a thousand times, so you’re really only half-paying attention. The rest of your focus is lost in the clouds as you think about things.

Ever since you and Karkat became friends, at least you’re pretty sure you’re friends, you’ve been less jittery. You started to have less and less anxiety, and now all the bullshit with your Bro only comes to mind in the darkest hours of the night. You refuse to admit to anyone else but yourself that one night when you were awoken abruptly from a nightmare, you fumbled for your phone, grabbed it, and started to pester Karkat in your panic.

You didn’t tell him what had prompted you to suddenly, frantically message him repeatedly at four in the morning, but he didn’t ask either. You’re still relieved about that, because fuck how do you explain that you went running to your best bro crying like a Goddamn toddler over a stupid nightmare? Easy answer is you don’t.

And Karkat … You admittedly really like him. He’s a loud, angry little guy but you actually find it pretty endearing, especially since you know that it’s more or less just a front. It’s who he is, but you know that the anger is generally fake. You don’t know how he feels about you, but you guess that he must consider you a friend at least enough to want to spend extended amounts of time with you.

Your thoughts are shaken and you flinch only slightly when suddenly there’s a weight on your shoulder. You tip your head to look over and your heart warms when you see that Karkat’s leaned over against you, the side of his face smushed up against your arm. He’s asleep.

You’re actually pretty relieved by that and you can’t help but feel honored, too. The guy hasn’t been sleeping, it’s obvious to literally everybody, so this is good for him. From what you know, trolls are really instinctual and they don’t allow themselves to be vulnerable with anybody they don’t trust, ever. And that usually means anybody outside of their quadrants. A sleeping troll is a defenseless troll, after all.

Karkat must really trust you.

And that makes your chest ache with emotion and a completely unironic smile cross your face.

You let Karkat stay there against your arm, even when half an hour passes and the movie’s over. The credits finish rolling and the room falls silent, but you don’t bother to get up or wake Karkat. He really needs this rest.

The only sound is your breathing, and the tiny sounds that Karkat keeps making. They sound almost like small moans, as if he’s dreaming about something really intense, and you think it’s adorable- Whoa, whoa, hang on, Dave. Chill out dude. Karkat isn’t adorable. Come on, man.

Even as you think this, toss away the thought and lock it away, you decide that if you’re going to stay sitting here with your troll friend you should at least get comfortable. Shifting slightly doesn’t cause Karkat to even stir, and you raise a brow because damn he must really be out of it. That’s good though, because it allows you to adjust so that you’re stretched out on the couch, Karkat practically on top of you and between your legs.

All he does is mumble something incoherent when you grab the blanket that he’s had tangled around him for the length of the movie, freeing it and draping it over him properly. It only occurs to you once you settle again, your head leaned back against the cushion-y armrest that this might be a little bit intimate.

Is it?

You’re pretty sure that you wouldn’t think twice if John fell asleep on you, and you’re bros too. It wouldn’t be awkward or intimate at all. So why does it feel different with Karkat? It’s not like you like him, like … like him. He’s cool and he’s fun, and he makes you feel safe, but that’s not unusual for friends, right?

Right?

You dozed off at some point when your thoughts kept going in circles and getting nowhere, like one of those greyhounds chasing a rabbit on a track. You don’t dream, which is a relief because usually your dreams consist of nightmares, and when you’re snapped back to wakefulness again it’s because you hear whimpering.

You blink blearily in the darkness of the room, a little out of sorts from just waking up. In an instant, you know what time it is and you know you’ve only been asleep about an hour. What was it that woke you, again? A sudden sharp intake of air and someone shifting above you makes it all come back and you lift your head to look down at Karkat.

It’s hard to make out all the details in the dark, but you don’t need to see to hear his uneven breathing, to feel the way his claws are clutching your shirt like a lifeline, like if he lets go he’ll die. You realize pretty quickly that he’s still asleep, and you frown. Is he having a nightmare? Didn’t some troll tell you that their species is prone to night terrors?

Shit, and they’re aggressive and violent by nature, so what if he wakes up and attacks you? You’re currently lying under him, putting you at serious risk of injury. But … you have to do something. You want to do soemthing.

Unsure, you slowly lift a hand and reach out, letting it gently rest on Karkat’s head between his horns. He flinches at the touch, going still, and you wonder if you did something wrong. Should you take your hand back? How the fuck else are you supposed to soothe him without waking him up?

Deciding to take the risk, you start to gently pet his head, running your fingers through his messy hair. Wow, why is his hair so fucking soft? It’s like touching velvet. Even with your movements, though, there’s no change in Karkat’s tension. Not until you accidentally brush your fingers against the base of one of his horns.

When you do, he lets out a deep breath in what sounds like a sigh and practically deflates against you, his iron grip on your shirt relaxing and his body going more limp. You blink in surprise. Are troll horns sensitive? Does it feel good to have the base of them massaged?

Curious, you do it again, rubbing your fingers around the base of one horn. You’re rewarded by what you think might be your new favorite sound when Karkat starts to literally purr. It’s a deep sound, something you imagine a lion would make if they could purr, and it’s deep in his throat and chest. With him lying on top of you, you can feel it as much as you can hear it.

You had no idea trolls could even make such a sound. Can they, like, roar, too? You knew they could growl, a truly deep animalistic sound that would be terrifying if you weren’t so used to it, but purr? Such a gentle, soft sound coming from such a hard, violent creature is pretty damn preposterous.

And yet … here’s Karkat, practically using you as a pillow and purring like a content cat dozing in the sunshine.

You smile.

As the minutes pass, Karkat relaxes completely and seems to fall back into a more restful slumber. Whatever horrible dreams that were plaguing him are gone now, letting him rest easy. Good. He needs it.

With Karkat effectively soothed, you let your head drop back to the armrest and you close your eyes, listening to the troll’s soft purring as you keep alternating between petting his head and rubbing at the base of his horns.

When you wake up next time, it’s to a confused grunt and your hand falling to rest on your belly. The weight on you disappears, and you scowl a bit as it takes the warmth with it. Flickering your eyes open, not that it matters since it’s dark as the arctic in winter, you hum in the back of your throat.

“Karkat?” You mumble.

For a long moment you don’t get a response, not until the couch shifts a bit beneath you and you feel Karkat adjusting and scooting away from you. No, come back, you’re warm.

“What the fuck, Strider?” Karkat mutters, his voice unusually high-strung and odd-sounding.

“What?” You’re confused, and still half-asleep, and you can’t read the tone of your friend’s voice worth shit.

“Uh … You should-” He cuts off his sentence to clear his throat before trying again. “You should go back to your block and sleep.” He sounds so … uneasy. You frown. You don’t want to go anywhere, you want to stay here on this couch with Karkat and cuddle-

That thought effectively wakes you up. Holy shit, you weren’t cuddling. Were you? Nah, you weren’t. The dude just fell asleep on you and you just adjusted to get comfortable. That’s all.

Nonetheless, you sit up and untangle yourself from the blanket.

“Er, yeah. Yeah, ‘course.” You say as you’re rising clumsily to your feet. You laugh a bit awkwardly. “Sorry for passing out on you, dude. Didn’t mean it, I swear. Like, wow, that shit was way uncool of me.”

You babble complete and utter nonsense all the way to his door, and you don’t shut up until you’re back in your room. You lean back against your door, sucking in a breath of air. Shit, your face feels warm. Are you fucking blushing? Holy shit. No. Stop it, Dave.

You’re so, so confused by yourself.

You just slept with Karkat. You just cuddled with your best bro on the dude’s couch. You fucking pet his hair like some sweet boyfriend. You literally chased away his nightmares. Good fucking God, why didn’t you stop to think how much of an idiot you were making yourself out to be?

You slam your head back against the door.

Thank God Karkat was too busy being asleep to notice.

Three days.

That’s how long you don’t talk to Karkat, and how long he avoids you. It makes you feel terrible, knowing that somehow you fucked up. Somehow, you crossed some line and you have no idea what you did. Was it because you fell asleep on him? Was it because you more or less pet him, even if he wasn’t awake to know?

You don’t know what you did, but you’re feeling like shit about it.

Rose doesn’t provide much clarification when you talk to her, even though by the second day you’re so fidgety and jumpy that it’s impossible to sit still. Karkat hasn’t answered any of your messages to him, and eventually he even blocked you. You told yourself that that’s fine, that it’s cool, that it’s no big deal. And yet your chest aches every time you think of him and you don’t know why.

So you went to your sister in hopes that maybe she could clarify. She chuckled at you once you told her what was going on with you and told you to ‘stop being so naive, Dave’. Naive? How? You don’t get it.

Needless to say, you don’t try and talk to her again.

After that, you just try and sleep more than normal. At least when you’re dreaming, he doesn’t seem so far away. But the nightmares hit you strong and for once you don’t end up strifing with Bro in them.

For once, they’re all about Karkat.

You peer into the darkness, warily observing the deepest, darkest corners of the apartment. Bro is surely going to show up, appear seemingly out of nowhere, and you’ll have only a split second to grab your sword.

It’s eerily quiet, almost deafeningly so.

A door creaks open somewhere, but you’re too stiff to move. You’re standing with only the smallest amount of space between your back and the wall, avoiding having a blind spot. If you’ve learned one thing about Bro, it’s that he’ll take advantage of any opportunity, any moment you’re off guard.

Your heart is racing, your blood pounding in your ears, but you’ve got to be hyper vigilant. You have to be prepared. If you could just get to your room …

Footsteps catch your attention, causing you to whip your head up to stare down the only hallway in the apartment, into solid blackness. The footsteps keep coming. Tap. Tap. Tap. You know the hallway isn’t even that long, but it keeps sounding. The steps aren’t even getting closer.

It all gets to be too much and you hurriedly whip out your sword, your hands shaking.

“Pathetic.” Someone says, but the voice is distorted and you can’t tell who it is. Why won’t they show themselves? Why won’t they step out of the darkness? “You’re shaking like a fucking coward.”

Your lips fall into a thin line, your brows knitting. Who is it? Who IS it?

A glint catches your eye seconds before a blade flies through the air and embeds in the wall not half a foot from your head. You look at it, eyes widening when you see what it is. It’s a sickle.

“No ...” You breathe, head whipping back around to watch the shadows. A figure emerges from the darkness agonizingly slowly. “No.” You wheeze, stepping back as if doing so might make him disappear back into the shadows. Your back hits the wall.

His gray skin looks almost black in the dim light of the apartment, half-illuminated only by the orange rays of the street light outside as they filter in through the blinds. Even in the darkness, all you can see clearly are his eyes. Big, glowing yellow with unusually thin, cat-like irises. He looks almost demonic.

You’re pretty sure if your heart beats any harder it will explode, or beat right out of your chest in your panic. Your grip on your sword is vice-like, but your weapon is lowered. It suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“Karkat, no …” You whisper.

His eyes narrow and his other sickle glints as he raises it and holds it out towards you. You swallow against the lump in your throat. You want to be sick. He takes a step towards you and you try to literally phase through the wall.

“You’re weak.” The troll says, his voice a hiss as he takes a step forward. “Useless. Cowardly. Unwanted.” Every word is punctuated by a step as he comes closer to you. Your eyes go wide behind your shades with each step. Trying to lift your sword proves to be impossible, especially when your grip goes slack and the weapon drops to the floor with a clang.

“You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve anything.” Karkat is practically face to face with you now. A pathetic, miserable whimper pushes up your throat, but gets choked off when the troll before you flashes out a hand and his fingers wrap around your neck. He squeezes, cutting off your ability to breathe.

He lifts you off your feet, all the while you try and pry his hand off.

He lifts his other sickle with his free hand.

It descends.

You scream.

Your entire body jerks up in panic and your sword is in your hands in a flash. Panting, shaking violently, you go rigid to the point of discomfort, eyes flitting wildly around the room. It’s empty. Dark, but empty. You’re not in your apartment. You’re on the meteor. You’re alone.

You drop your sword to bring your hands to your throat, feeling for bruises. There’s nothing. There’s no sign of hands having been there.

You can’t stop the tears from falling, not while your brain is trying to sort itself out and you’re hardly breathing. Your phone dings, reminding you of its existence, and you scramble to grab it off the end table in your desperation to talk to somebody. Anybody. Anything to distract you from your nightmare. Anything to make you forget about that iron grip on your neck.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] unblocked turntechGodhead [TG] --
-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: DAVE.
CG: WE NEED TO TALK.

You didn’t expect to talk to Karkat. Not right after that nightmare. Tears flow harder and you choke on a sob, but you don’t ignore him. You answer him. You need him. Holy fuck, he tried to kill you in your dreams, but you need him. You need him to tell you it’s alright, that he’d never hurt you, that it was just an awful nightmare.

Screw being cool. Screw being ironic. You can’t think straight.

TG: karkat
TG: shit
TG: are you real
TG: is this
TG: fuck i
CG: WHAT?
CG: DAVE?
TG: im
TG: i cant
TG: i cant think
CG: WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS GOING ON?
CG: ARE YOU OKAY?
TG: no
TG: no im not okay
TG: i
TG: you were
CG: HOLD ON.
TG: no i
TG: it was dark
TG: the apartment
TG: and you
TG: you were there and
TG: and
TG: shit
TG: fuck
TG: i cant

Your hands are shaking so much that you drop your phone, which slides off of your bed and falls to the floor. You’re reaching to pick it up again, because you can’t stop -you need to talk to him- when your door is thrown open.

An absolutely undignified sound between a shriek and a whine warbles out of you and you scramble so that your back is against the wall. In your doorway, followed by the light from the hallway, is Karkat. He’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon, his expression frantic.

Images from your nightmare flash before your eyes and you can practically feel a hand around your neck.

No. Stop. Karkat wouldn’t- He wouldn’t ...

He kicks your door shut again and hastily steps over towards you, clearly having no trouble navigating in the dark. “Dave- Dave, breathe!” He says, and he sounds almost panicked. You want to do what he says, but you can’t breathe. You’re feeling pretty dizzy as you practically hyperventilate. And your back is still against the wall as you shake.

“Fuck. Damn it!” Karkat curses as he reaches you. He drops onto his knees on your bed, practically towering over you as you shrink back. “Come on. It’s okay. Fuck- What the Hell happened?”

His hands find your shoulders in the darkness, and you flinch. His grip is gentle, though, not like what you remember from your dream, and it’s surprisingly grounding. You’re still crying, tears falling down your face, but you’re not sobbing. You’re hardly making a sound aside from gasping for air.

It hits you suddenly that he’s here. That he’s here, hovering over you, his voice worried and his hands sliding over your shoulders and arms like he’s not sure where to put them. Like he’s not sure how to help. He wants to help. You make a horribly pathetic whimpering noise and lurch forward, coolkid demeanor be damned, wrapping your arms tightly around him and trying to practically burrow into his chest with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Wh-” Karkat tries to speak but cuts off with a small, strangled sound of confusion in his throat. Instead, he sits back on his ankles and wraps his arms around you, one hand pressed firmly against your back while the other goes to cradle your head against his chest. His hand, you notice despite your fear, perfectly frames the back of your head, his claws ever so lightly pricking at your scalp. You’d think it would be alarming, but the feeling actually helps stabilize you and reminds you that you’re real. That you’re alive.

And then he starts to make this soft, deep rumbling sound in his chest. It’s a sound that reverberates through you, piercing your terror and slowly dissolving it like the way sunshine eats up the darkness. You stay there, your fingers fisted in the shirt over his back, your head practically buried in his collar as you listen to his strong heartbeat and that wonderful rumbling sound and try to calm down. Breathe ...

Karkat just sits there, holding you against him and making that soothing noise. You feel it when he tips his head down, feel his lips on the top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re alright.” He says into your hair, his voice soft and quiet and so unlike him yet exactly what you need.

You never would have guessed that Karkat has a soft side, that he’s able to do comfort- surprisingly really well, actually. Yet he’s here, holding you. He came here of his own choice- you didn’t ask him-, he chose to hold you- you didn’t ask him-, and now he’s telling you, in an impossibly soft tone for such a gruff guy, that everything is going to be okay. You didn’t ask him.

Surprisingly, you find yourself believing his words.

The terror and panic starts to leak out of you as you stay there, resting against him, holding onto him and practically curled into him. He’s warm, so very warm, and it’s incredibly comforting. He smells good, too, like sharp, bold spices- ginger, maybe? He’s solid, strong, he’s holding you.

Focus, Dave. Focus on Karkat. Don’t think about that apartment. Don’t think about the dream. He’d never hurt you. He’s a good friend. Look, he’s hugging you! He cares ...

Eventually, after exactly twenty-three minutes and sixteen seconds of repeating the same things in your head, the last remnants of that awful panic attack leave you and you slump heavily against your alien friend. He seems to realize that something’s changed because suddenly he moves. It’s not much, he just takes his hand off of your head to join his other one on your back.

“You okay?” He asks, his words sounding funny since he doesn’t stop making that deep rumbling sound.

“Yeah.” You reply in a whisper, exhausted. Part of your numb brain tells you that if you were more coherent, you would be awkward and embarrassed as Hell about having a breakdown in front of him. You’d be apologizing profusely and trying to play it off as a joke. But as it is, you’re too worn out to care. And, of course, Karkat is still holding you and making it hard for you to worry about that shit at all. “I’m … I’m okay. Just … God, just a terrible dream.”

“Looked more like a night terror.” Karkat growls, but somehow you know it’s not anger directed at you. His arms tighten around you slightly, and you wonder why. Is he bothered by the idea of you having a night terror? Maybe he is. Trolls are prone to it, and he especially seems to hate it …

You’re way too tired to think about it.

“Dunno. It sucked.” You offer, shifting a bit to practically nuzzle your head against Karkat’s chest. His breath hitches a bit as you do, the rumbling sound stalling for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re warm.” You murmur stupidly. Have you said that before?

You get no verbal response, but his grip loosens some. You’re lying in a rather uncomfortable position, bent over awkwardly against him, but you’re still falling asleep. Maybe it’s just because it’s Karkat? Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could sleep upside down dangling over a shark tank as long as he was there with you.

The troll above you makes a small sound, a sort of chirping click that you think is really adorable, then sighs as the rumble dies off. You frown, tempted to complain and beg him to keep making that really nice sound, but you’re far too weary to speak if you don’t need to.

He chuckles quietly, patting your back as if in an attempt to rouse you. “Come on, Dave. You need to lie the fuck down.” He says. You protest weakly, but Karkat ignores you and maneuvers you until you’re lying down again with your head on your pillow. It’s cold compared to him. He drags your blanket up over you and slips out of your grip, moving to get up. You scowl and grab his arm as he tries to leave.

“No.” You mumble, not caring in your exhaustion if it comes across as desperate and pitiful. “Stay.” You wish you had the strength to open your eyes and look at him.

“What?” He practically croaks in disbelief. “I can’t just-”

“Stay.” You repeat, cutting him off by tugging insistently on his arm. He hesitates, apparently thinking about it, but much to your relief he gives in with a sigh and a mutter of ‘damn it, Strider’. You feel your bed sink a bit as he crawls under the blanket, lying down in the spot beside you.

Your bed is small, meaning that you’re more or less chest to chest with him by the time he’s settled. A small smile quirks your lips, content now that he’s not going anywhere. Your head isn’t all clear, kinda fuzzy like you’re drunk, and you reach one hand over and press it against his chest.

“You’re warm.” You say quietly, and yeah you’re pretty sure you’ve said that already.

Karkat takes a deep breath through his nose, shaking his head, but he doesn’t say anything. Nor does he try to remove your hand.

Finding it easier to relax, you take a deep breath.

You’re fast asleep before you even finish exhaling, warmed to the core by his presence next to you and soothed by the knowledge that he’s here, watching over you.

Karkat’s here. You’re safe.

You’re dragged sluggishly from a dreamless sleep, and the first thing you feel is relief and wonder that you managed to sleep without a single nightmare. You keep your eyes closed, turning your head to bury it in your pillow. It smells good, like ginger …

The bed shifts as someone next to you adjusts. Hm? Who’s in bed with you? Thank God you’re still clothed, so you obviously didn’t do anything questionable and totally uncalled for. But still, who …?

A hand rests gently on your upper arm and you remove your head from your pillow to crack open an eye. You find yourself staring at a face you haven’t seen in days- wait, no, that’s not right. Your eyebrows knit together. You saw him just last night, didn’t you?

“Karkat?” You question, trying to sort through your memories. What the fuck happened last night?

He’s staring at you, directly meeting your eyes, and you realize suddenly that you’re not wearing your shades. A feeling of discomfort hits you like a brick to the head, causing you to immediately tense. You keep your eyes hidden for a reason: because your shades are totally cool and ironic and without them you’re an open book, and being that easy to read is a weakness.

Karkat blinks at you, but seems to realize what’s bothering you--by some miracle--since he twists to reach for the nightstand. When he turns back to you, it’s to place your shades into your hand. You immediately throw them onto your face, feeling a lot better and more secure.

Letting out a breath, you frown and sit up. Karkat takes his hand from your arm as you do, propping himself up on his elbow. He’s been quiet so far, and fuck you wish he would say something. You so fucking wish he would yell or growl or swear and insult you. This is just … awkward.

“Uh …” You try, looking at him. “So, uh … What’s up?”

Real smooth, Dave.

Karkat shrugs. “You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave.” He retorts, snorting as he throws off the blanket and swings his legs over the side of the bed. You watch as he stretches his arms over his head, eyes locked on the back of his neck, but you’re focused on what he told you.

You … wouldn’t let him leave? Oh fuck, did you ask him to sleep with you? Shit. That’s so fucking uncool. It’s actually really pathetic, and you feel your face heat up a bit in shame and embarrassment. Man, your Bro would kick your ass if he knew about this.

“Sorry, dude.” You say, proud when you manage to keep your tone straight and casual. “I guess I had a rough night?” It’s a question, because you don’t remember much past waking up from a God awful nightmare.

“Yeah, well, next time don’t drag me into your bullshit.” Karkat growls, rising to his feet. Is he mad at you? Good God, he’s so hard to read sometimes. “Now come on. You slept in late and if we don’t show our faces someone’s going to wonder if we’ve fucking died.”

“Right.” You say, getting up and out of bed and following Karkat out of your room.

The two of you walk wordlessly down the hallway, side by side, and you glance at Karkat from the safety behind your shades. He looks … tired. Did he sleep last night? Apparently he stayed with you, so did he just lay there awake all night?

“Hey,” you say after a bit of silence. He grunts in response instead of using words, but it’s enough for you to know you can keep talking. “Dude, not that I’m trying to pry or anything ‘cause I mean you’ve probably got your reasons and shit kept under lock and key in a safe or whatever-”

“Get to the point!” The troll hisses, evidently not willing to listen to your ramblings today.

Right. You were actually trying to summon up the nerve to ask him if he’s doing okay. Yeah, you can do that.

“Uh …” You mutter, and it comes out a little small. Damn it, Dave. Keep it together! “Are you … okay?”

Karkat doesn’t reply right away. You count the seconds it takes him to speak. One, two, three … His expression has fallen into a scowl and he seems to be thinking hard about how to answer. Is it really that hard to just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’?

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen-

“I ask myself that miserable fucking question every day.” He finally decides on saying. You turn your head to look at him, but he refuses to meet your gaze, keeping his eyes stubbornly ahead of him. “I don’t know. It’s hard to find the motivation to do much of anything.”

Oh, here it comes. He’s about to spill his guts. You just know it.

“Just- Fuck.” Karkat stops walking and runs his fingers through his wild hair rather aggressively. You stop next to him. “I can’t close my fucking eyes without seeing them all. My friends. People I was supposed to look out for. They died and it’s my fault. And everyone left doesn’t want anything to do with me. Seriously, do you know when the last time I saw Terezi was? Do you know the last time I felt like Kanaya actually wanted to talk to me?”

“Hey, come on man-” You try to interrupt him, try to be light-hearted and stop him from saying this loathing crap, but he shakes his head and growls as if he didn’t hear you at all.

“I don’t even feel like eating, and I’m not stupid- I know I’m just being self-destructive but I don’t fucking care. All of it, all of it, is only bearable because-”

You try to interrupt him.

“Karkat.”

“-I’ve got you.”

Your eyes go wide and you’re grateful for your shades that hide your dumbfounded expression. What …? He looks at you seriously, as if you might hold the secret to the world’s greatest mystery, but you don’t react. You have no idea what to say to that. What can you say? Should you make a joke out of it? Should you get all cute and go ‘aww’?

After a long, tense silence, Karkat eventually shrugs, becoming guarded. “Whatever. I really shouldn’t be surprised that no one wants anything to do with me.” He laughs, a dark, bitter laugh. You never want to hear it again. “I’m fucking mutant trash, after all.”

He shoulders his way past you, and for a long moment all you can do is stare after him. What the …? What? You had no idea that Karkat was plagued like that. You had no idea he felt personally responsible for shit that happened to him before this whole meteor journey started. How long has he felt like this?

Suddenly, you relate to him a million times more.

He feels responsible for everyone’s failure. He feels like an outcast.

Just like you.

Your heart aches for him because … because this is Karkat. He’s cool, he’s funny, you now know he’s got a soft side to him that you don’t think many people have ever witnessed. He’s been there for you when you needed someone, he makes you feel safe and wanted. You’re desperate for his approval. You want him to like you.

But he feels like dirt. Less than dirt, even. He feels like garbage. He thinks no one wants him. He thinks that everything that’s happened is his fault- he’s hurting himself because of it! He never asks for help, never even tries to seek comfort, because he thinks he’s not worthy of it. He feels like he’s not allowed to feel anything good.

He shouldn’t feel that way. God fucking damn it, he doesn’t deserve that.

Karkat Vantas deserves the world and so much more.

That’s what prompts you to run after him because damn it he needs to know none of that crap is true. When you catch up, you grab his shoulder and forcefully turn him to face you. He stares up at you, a horribly miserable look on his face that you’re seeing in a whole new light, and all that you were going to say dies on your tongue.

You had every intention of telling him that none of that is true, to fuck everyone else if they don’t care, that you care, but suddenly you’re afraid of what he’ll say or think. You swallow nervously, torn between speaking and just walking away. You grasp at the fragments of your determination, because you need to tell him. He needs to hear it, God fucking damn it!

“Look man,” you start, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel, “don’t … don’t think that shit.” Okay, oh boy, you’re about to get cheesy as fuck. You’ll probably just play it off as chill-like as you can, but he needs to hear this. “I don’t really know what all went down with you and your troll pals, but I doubt it was your fault.”

He opens his mouth to argue but you keep talking. “TZ is an idiot if she’s been ignoring you, dude. I mean, I think you’re fucking awesome and you shouldn’t … feel like shit? I mean, I just want you to know that- that I …”

Karkat waits patiently for you to speak, but your tongue feels swollen. It’s hard to get the last words out. It takes everything you have not to look away, not to admit defeat. You make a sound of frustration with yourself, and Karkat sighs. “You what, Strider?”

“I …” Your hand is still on his shoulder, and you squeeze as if that might force the words out. Come on, Dave. Come on! It’s two fucking words! Say it!

“You don’t need to lie to me.” Karkat growls flatly, eyes narrowing as if he thinks you’re trying to insult him. He shrugs your hand off his shoulder, though you just hold it in the air near him like a moron. “Don’t tell me that it’s ‘not my fault’.” Oh God, Karkat, don’t. “You don’t even know how absolutely, monumentally I fucked up.” No, stop. Stop! It’s not your fault! “You don’t get to pity me. You-”

“I care!”

It finally comes out, and apparently it stuns Karkat into silence because he visibly flinches as if the two words hurt him to hear. He stares at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. You hold your breath, waiting for him to growl at you, to yell at you and call you stupid.

He doesn’t.

Instead his expression softens some and he looks away. “Yeah, well … Thanks.” He mutters awkwardly, evidently not knowing exactly what to say to that.

You let out the breath you were holding, nodding a bit. “Yeah.” You say quietly.

For a long moment you just stand there with him, neither of you looking at each other, and then you turn a bit. “Let’s go get breakfast or something.” You say in hopes of alleviating the horribly tense atmosphere.

“I’m not hungry.” Karkat states, but you look at him and raise a brow.

“Dude, you just admitted that you’re being a self-destructive moron and practically starving yourself. That’s not cool, or healthy.” You say, and it’s so easy to ramble like this. “Like, bro, anyone would look at you and decide that you should go to some kind of rehab or something because you gotta eat. You’re basically a skeleton!”

“It’s not that bad!” The troll snaps defensively.

You grin at him. “Man, you should be in the Guiness Book of World Records for that shit. That’s how bad it is.” As you say this, you take a step closer to him and give him a little shove down the hallway. “Now come on. What if I cook something for you?”

“I don’t think anything you cook can be considered even remotely edible.” He scoffs, but at least he’s walking again. You silently congratulate yourself as you fall into step beside him.

“You’ve clearly never had my grilled cheese, then. I make the best grilled cheese, dude, even ask Rose!” Nevermind that you can only cook it because you had to eat something when Bro stopped providing for you as much, and cheese slices and bread were cheap and easy to steal.

As you’re saying this, the two of you emerge into the kitchen, where Rose and Kanaya are sitting at the table each with a mug in their hands. You guess it’s either coffee or tea. Rose looks up at you as you enter and smiles.

“Are we discussing Dave’s grilled cheese?” She asks, apparently hearing your conversation and making absolutely zero effort to hide it, to which you nod and give her a lazy two-finger salute.

“You bet your ass we are.”

“Dave’s grilled cheese sandwiches are the best.” Rose states, looking at Karkat who only rolls his eyes and goes to sit at the table. He crosses his arms, giving you a challenging glare.

“Impress me, then.”

Oh fuck yes.

Challenge accepted.

You totally prove to Karkat that you can cook, and even though he complains and declares that your food is only barely edible, he scarfs down anything you give him like a ravenous raptor who hasn’t eaten in a week. Though, you realize rather dejectedly, that’s sort of the case.

After that, you make an effort of dragging him to the kitchen to eat. You don’t want the dude to starve to death, after all. He protests every time, but he goes along with you anyway which is a huge relief.

Even as days pass, you don’t forget what he told you. It almost never leaves your mind how much he values you, how much you mean to him, and you can’t help the way your heart flutters when you think about it. It’s … nice. It feels good to know that you matter to someone. You just wish you weren’t so scared of telling him that he matters, too. The fact you managed it the one time, even if it was executed terribly, is a miracle.

You spend as much time with Karkat as possible. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, just as long as you’re with him. He makes you feel good, makes you feel alive, and you always notice that he seems a little more enthusiastic when he’s with you, too.

The two of you spend a lot of time in Can Town, as usual. The Mayor rocks, after all, and Karkat seems to like him. You’ve even got a spot basically designated for when you watch movies together, or when you dick around and draw--which is something you’ve been doing a lot too--and Karkat seems adorably fond of that.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: HEY.

You look up at Karkat in surprise. He’s literally just across the room, building something for Can Town, so why is he messaging you? He can just call over to you, or walk across to you and say what he needs to say.

You notice that his head is down as he stares intently at his phone. His fingers seem to be shaking a bit, causing you to frown and immediately type back to him.

TG: kitkat
TG: sup dude
CG: I’M PROBABLY GOING TO COME ACROSS AS PATHETIC AND DESPERATE. ACTUALLY THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO THINK. BUT FUCK IT.
CG: I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.
TG: about what
TG: dude you know you can talk to me about anything
CG: YEAH, I KNOW. JUST. YOU DON’T NEED TO DEAL WITH MY BULLSHIT.
TG: is this about that whole thing about you feeling like you fucked up
TG: cause man i gotta tell you that i still think you didnt do shit
TG: you dont gotta feel responsible
CG: YES I DO.
CG: I REALLY FUCKED UP, STRIDER, AND IT’S.
CG: IT’S HAUNTING ME.
TG: what
CG: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW TIRED I AM?
CG: I CAN’T FUCKING SLEEP BECAUSE WHEN I DO ALL I SEE ARE THEIR FACES, THEIR BLOOD. AND ALL I CAN THINK OF IS THAT THE FUTURE IS GOING TO END A HORRIBLE, DISASTROUS MESS.
TG: karkat
TG: kitkat
TG: come on thats ridiculous
CG: IS IT THOUGH? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS?
TG: well no but
CG: EXACTLY.
CG: SO JUST … I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT.

You don’t respond. Instead, you shove your phone in your pocket and get up from where you’d been making a banner for one of the buildings in Cantown. You walk over to Karkat, whose gaze is glued to his own mobile device, and you grab his arm, causing him to jump.

“Come on.” You say, not really giving him much of a choice as you haul him over to the pile of soft things that the two of you usually lay on to watch movies. It’s secluded behind some tall can structures, and the Mayor is off drawing on the wall so you have tons of privacy. You flop over, lying on your side in the blankets, and prop yourself up on one arm. Karkat is still standing beside you, so you motion to the spot next to you.

“Sit, dude. We’re talking about this.” You tell him. He purses his lips, looking uncertain for a minute, but then slowly moves to sit down beside you. You’re tempted to tell him to lie the fuck down and get comfortable, but he really does look tense and uncomfortable, so you let him sit however he feels like.

It’s quiet while you wait for him to find his voice. You wonder just what he’s going to say. Is he going to tell you he personally killed all his friends? Is he going to break down? Shit, you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it if he starts to cry.

As you’re thinking this, Karkat finally speaks.

“I was supposed to be their leader.” He says, and he sounds so sad that it hurts you like a punch to the chest. “I was supposed to keep all their shit together. But Gamzee went sober and Eridan lost his shit. They just … started killing everyone and I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

He drops his head into his hands. “I should have done something.”

You want to reach over and hug him.

“If I had just seen the signs with Eridan, if I had tried harder to keep Gamzee calm … Nepeta wouldn’t be dead. Equius and Feferi, too. None of the rest of that shit would have gone down.” Karkat shakes his head, growling at himself and biting his lip hard enough that a thin trail of bright red runs down his chin.

“I shouldn’t have ever even hatched.” He mutters, and holy shit do you want to grab him. You want to shake him by the shoulders until he understands that he can’t think things like that. “I’d never have given your universe cancer, or fucked up the Game, or made Jack a thing. Maybe … Maybe everyone would have been better off.”

“No.” You say, deciding that that’s quite enough. You reach up and grab Karkat’s wrist, forcing him to take his head out of his hands. He doesn’t look at you. “Karkat, dude, you can’t be blamed for that shit.” You tell him, hoping that your words come across seriously instead of casually like they sound. “There were, what, twelve of you? That’s a lot of people to keep track of and from what I hear a lot of them were really chaotic. It’s hardly your fault.”

He shakes his head, and you sigh. Okay, time to get really intimate and personal. Time to cross all the fucking boundaries and pray to God it’s not too much, pray that he doesn’t hate you for it.

Steeling yourself, you tug on his arm, pulling him down until he falls onto his side beside you. He looks at you miserably, and it breaks your heart. You really wish you were better with words, that you were good at the whole comfort business. You don’t want him to look like that, to feel so awful.

Slowly, you reach up and use your thumb to wipe the blood off of his chin. He flinches, but doesn’t really protest. Right, isn’t he really sensitive about his blood? You decide not to comment on it, instead draping your arm over his waist.

“It’s not your fault.” You say again. “And it’s not like you can change it now. Sorry, dude, but time doesn’t flow backwards.” You grin a little at your words, ironic since you’re the Knight of Time. Unfortunately, Karkat doesn’t seem to find it very funny, but he nods as if getting your point regardless.

“I know.” He mutters. “I know I can’t change anything, but … Fuck, it could have been different.”

You shake your head at him, scooting closer so that you can hug him because, damn it, the guy needs it. It might be awkward, it might be way too much for bros, but you’re not sure what else to do. You just can’t stand Karkat thinking about this anymore.

You pull him to your chest, resting your chin on his head, and even if you’re conflicted about it, you have to admit that this is really nice. It feels good to hug him like this, to try and make him feel better.

He’s warm and real and alive.

Karkat’s more or less rigid in your arms, worrying you that you did something you shouldn’t, but he slowly relaxes and eventually willingly leans into your embrace. Neither of you say anything, nothing needs to be said. Besides, it’s really peaceful just lying here like this.

Can you maybe just stay like this forever? God, how you want the world to just stop existing but for this moment.

After a good fifteen minutes, however, Karkat finally speaks. His words are spoken quietly into your collarbone, but you have no trouble hearing them. “Dave?”

“Yeah, man?”

“This is … This is really pale.”

You blink in confusion. Pale? What the fuck is he talking about? What- Wait. Pale … like the quadrant? Shit, are you accidentally giving off signals or something? You go to open your mouth to tell him this isn’t like that, but you pause. Is that true, really? Do you really not feel that way about him?

You like Karkat. You feel safe and happy with him. He helps keep you centered and grounded and you don’t worry about your past, or the future for that matter, when he’s there with you. Plus there was that one night when you had that horrible dream and Karkat came and held you until you calmed down …

It really isn’t that much of a stretch to think that maybe you stumbled into a moirallegiance with him, is it? You’re not entirely sure you know exactly how to be a moirail, but maybe you won’t be awful at it? The problem is that admitting to this, admitting to feeling that way about him, admits that you’re in love with him. Platonic love, since that’s what moirails are, but still love nonetheless.

You’re not worried about it being gay, since you’ve long since matured past that stage of your life, but what you are worried about … is if you can stand the idea of sharing Karkat if he ever fills in his other quadrants. You think you probably could. Maybe? It’s way too soon to think too much about, honestly. All you know is that you like him, and isn’t that a good place to start?

You could fuck up your entire friendship …

But you don’t care.

“And?” You say with a small chuckle. You feel Karkat frown against your chest and he pulls back, enough to meet your gaze.

“And we’re not moirails.” He says. There’s a note of disappointment to his voice that you think he tried to hide. Holy shit. Is it possible that you’re not the only one who feels something? Does he … does he maybe actually like you like that?

“We could be.” You say before you can stop yourself, your heart-rate increasing.

Karkat’s eyes widen a fraction, and he stares at you incredulously for long enough that you start to feel nervous. Were you too forward? But then he speaks. “Do you even know what it means to be moirails?”

You shrug. “Not really. I mean, I kinda do? I dunno, dude, but I know that we’re not just friends anymore. Hell if I know when that changed, but it did.” You grin. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll teach me anything I need to know.”

He hesitates. You see it in his face, in his shoulders. He’s torn, doesn’t know what to do, and you don’t blame him. You’re both alien to each other, you’re both young, awkward teenagers, and you’re both probably bumbling into things you don’t quite know enough about. That would give you pause, too.

Finally, he sighs. “Okay.” He says, then more confidently, “okay.”

“So …” You drawl.

“Moirails?” He sounds almost shy about it. It’s absolutely precious.

“Yeah, man. Moirails.” You agree with a nod, earning a soft, warm smile from the troll. It’s probably the most beautiful expression you’ve ever seen on his face. God, you’re being so sappy. And yet, you smile back.

Being moirails proves to be more than you thought it would be. It’s not bad, not at all, but it’s more complex than you thought. After sorting out that that’s what you two are now, Karkat takes the time to properly explain to you just what it means to be moirails.

It’s about taking care of each other. It’s about being there, protecting one another in not just a physical way, about listening and allowing yourself to be helped. This is … a bit of a problem for you. You’re horrible at opening up, at expressing your feelings, and you wouldn’t give yourself any credit on the other end, either. It isn’t much of a problem, though, right? You tell yourself that it’s fine, because it has to be. It has to be fine because you actually really want this to work.

After the first few days, you begin to realize that it’s not just you that’s got trouble being emotionally honest. There’s times where you see the haunted, faraway look in Karkat’s eyes, that you almost literally feel him shrink back and lock himself away from the rest of the world, but he never actually talks to you about it. You don’t call him out on it, but it doesn’t escape your notice. You silently curse yourself for being socially stunted and unable to press him for answers.

Of course, you tell Rose about your new status only after she vows not to tell anyone else. Not that there’s really many people to tell, but you still don’t want her to gossip about you. She just smiles and tells you your secret is safe with her.

It doesn’t even feel like anything’s changed between you and Karkat. Not until one night at 3:38 AM.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

CG: DAVE.
CG: ARE YOU AWAKE?
CG: FUCK.
CG: YOU’RE ASLEEP AREN’T YOU.
CG: DAMN IT.
CG: WHY DOES THIS ONLY HAPPEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT? WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SO USELESS AND PATHETIC TO EVEN BE BOTHERED BY THIS?
CG: UGH.
CG: I CAN’T HANDLE THIS.
CG: I.
CG: I NEED YOU.
CG: I NEED YOU, DAVE.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] --

You’re roused from a rather pleasant dream--for once--by the feeling of your bed shifting beneath you. There’s only a split second in which you panic at the thought of someone hovering over you while you lie there, defenseless, before you realize that that’s stupid. No one on the meteor would hurt you. Not even Vriska, as shady as she is.

You open your eyes.

Glowing yellow greets you, and you know it’s Karkat. What’s he doing in here? You didn’t even hear him come into your room. Wait, is he shaking? Is he okay? You’re immediately more awake as you reach out to him, your hand finding the base of his neck. His pulse is hammering under your touch, and you were right; he’s trembling.

“Karkat?” You question quietly, not needing to be any louder in the small space between you. You move to sit up. His eyes, pupils blown wide, follow you but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” You ask him, worry making it surprisingly easy to shove aside your awkwardness. You slide your hand up his neck and rest it on his cheek. “You’re shaking.”

He lets out a breath that you think could also double as a whimper, leaning his head into the palm of your hand. The sound tugs at your heart. Without hesitation, without even waiting for a sign or anything, you pull him into your arms to hold him against you. Karkat’s arms shoot up and he grips at your shoulderblades, burying his face in your bare shoulder--you should really have kept your shirt on when you went to bed.

He doesn’t cry, but the trembling doesn’t fade either.

Worry hangs over you and makes you frown. What happened? Is he okay? He doesn’t appear to be hurt, so …? You realize that you won’t get any answers without asking him, so you do. “Kitkat, hey, what happened?”

He shakes his head a bit, tightening his grip on you. “It’s stupid. I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmurs brokenly, sounding so unbelievably upset. Whatever’s on his mind is apparently enough to really bother him, enough to convince him to seek you out in the middle of the night, but he’s too scared to talk about it.

You rub his back with one hand, the other arm settled around his waist. “Too bad.” You say. “Talk to me. C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.” You turn your head so that your nose brushes against his soft hair, and you can’t help but think that he smells good. “You know I won’t laugh at you.”

He thinks about it for a moment in which he’s quiet, and when he finally decides to talk he sounds nervous and uncertain. “It’s just … Fuck, it really is stupid. I ... I’m not good at this. I’ve only had one quadrant before, a moirail before you, and I fucked that up so terribly and I don’t want to screw up with you. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose this. I can’t be alone again, I can’t-”

“Shhh.” You cut him off, refusing to allow him to get hysteric. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m not going anywhere and you haven’t done anything wrong.” You’re practically whispering into his ear. Your moirail shakes his head a bit, clinging to you but not arguing. He’s still quivering.

God, Karkat’s so damaged. He’s been through a lot of shit, just like you, and he doesn’t trust himself or anyone else. Well, that’s not true. He trusts you, obviously, since here he is basically having a breakdown in your arms. You want to hold him tight, kill his demons and chase away the darkness. Fuck, what you wouldn’t give to make him happy.

It really dawns on you suddenly that this is what it means to be moirails. This is what it means to love. And boy, do you love Karkat. You love him a lot. In the past week and a half that you’ve actually been together, you’ve stopped denying that this is a type of love. You still don’t quite understand why trolls have four different kinds of romance, but you think, at least, that you understand moirallegiance now.

It all falls into place.

You’re in love with Karkat Vantas.

Feeling almost overwhelmed with emotion, you bring one hand up to his head, letting your fingers run through his hair in an attempt to further relax him. Damn, you just want him to smile and tell you he’s alright.

After a moment you find yourself remembering that one night where he fell asleep during a movie, where you ended up cuddling on the couch in his room. That was the night you discovered that troll horns are sensitive, and you think maybe that it might be useful here. That thought in mind, your fingers find one of Karkat’s horns and rub at the base of it.

He literally melts into your arms, slumping all of his weight against you. A quiet purr rumbles in his throat as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. The trembling dies down pretty quickly, but only once it has do you stop touching his head to instead just rest your arms lazily around his waist.

“You okay?” You ask him in the comfortable silence that follows, permeated only by his purring.

“Hm?” He murmurs, clearly a little out of it. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Good.” You say, allowing quiet to settle around you again. For a time it’s just you and Karkat and his purring, and him held against you, and it’s the absolute best feeling in the world. Your chest feels warm and tight with emotion in a way that you think is good, in a way you’ve never felt before. You think it’s probably love that you’re feeling, and fuck is it a good feeling.

A yawn catches you by surprise, wide and deep enough that you tremble slightly through it. “Mmph.” It’s not exactly a dignified sound, but you’re getting sleepy again and you don’t care. “C’mon, lay down with me.” You say, because honestly it wouldn’t be the first time the two of you slept together. Besides, Karkat seems to need you right now and you aren’t about to deny some cuddling.

He doesn’t protest when you fall over onto your side, dragging him with you. In fact, all he does is adjust slightly so that he’s practically curled into you, resting his head under your chin. You can’t help but smile at how precious your moirail is. Fucking Hell, he can be really cute.

Cute. Because Karkat is absolutely adorable and there’s no shame in admitting it anymore. He’s your platonic boyfriend, after all.

You’re ready for sleep, but there’s one thing you need to address first.

“Do you want to talk?” You ask him, whispering in his ear. He shakes his head a bit in response.

“Later.” He murmurs tiredly.

You fall asleep to the soothing, rhythmic sound of Karkat’s purring.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to find your moirail staring off into space in your general direction with not even a foot of space between you. You blink blearily at him, wondering how long he’s been awake and how long he’s been spacing out, and you just observe him. He doesn’t look nearly as tired as he usually does, so you’re hoping that maybe he got some sleep, and if scrutinize him you can see that he doesn’t look as unhealthy anymore, either. You silently pat yourself on the back, glad that you seem to be having a positive influence on him.

It’s as you’re just starting to think about moving that Karkat blinks and his gaze focuses. Your eyes meet and he just looks at you with this unreadable expression. It’s soft, with his brows pulled together slightly and the tiniest of scowls on his lips. What is he thinking? Why does he look so pensive?

You don’t think anything of it as you pull one hand free of the blankets and reach across the small gap between you to gently touch his barely visible shoulder, though it might as well count as his neck. He doesn’t say anything, but he lifts his own hand to close loosely around your wrist, effectively keeping your hand trapped where it is.

The air feels charged, like you’re both just waiting for something neither of you really even know. The seconds tick by and all you can really focus on is the tense atmosphere, Karkat’s steady pulse beneath your fingers, and how warm he is to the touch.

When nothing happens, nothing breaks that tension, you chuckle a bit. “Hey.” You say, finding it a little easier than usual to ignore how fucking stupid you sound. Really, Dave? ‘Hey’? Could you be any more lame?

Nonetheless, it’s apparently the right thing to say since the beginnings of a smile quirk at Karkat’s lips and he returns with a quiet, “hey.”

“Feeling better?” You ask him, hardly noticing as your thumb starts to stroke over the troll’s tough skin.

“Yeah.” He says, though his expression suddenly becomes more pensive. He scowls and shakes his head, squeezing your wrist. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to just wander in here in the middle of the night like a fucking creep.”

“Nah, dude.” You say calmly. “It’s chill. That’s, uh …” You trail off, unable to say the words you had intended. God, could you be any more sappy? It’s a little hard to find the energy to care about acting like a total tool. You’ve done a ton of it in the past few weeks anyway, and Karkat still hasn’t dumped your ass, so at least he doesn’t seem to be bothered.

You’re relieved about that. This part of you is a part that no one else has seen. John’s had the virtual side of it, since you’ve been unashamedly open and honest with him in the past, but this is nowhere near the same. You’re vulnerable with Karkat, you turn into a bit of an idiot around him, you sometimes forget what you were going to say or lose the drive to actually finish your sentences, but he doesn’t care.

And that’s one of the reasons you love him.

You love him.

It still sends a bit of a jolt through you every time you think about it, if only because your Bro would hand you your ass on a silver fucking platter if he heard that. He’d probably call it pathetic and stupid, and tell you that you’ve got more important things to focus on than love.

Damn it, you hate that he’s damaged you the way he has. You hate that because of him you suffer in social settings and you have a hard time talking to people. You usually get by okay, but it’s stressful and you tend to get burnt out fairly quickly.

Regardless, it still stands that you love Karkat and you’re going to stick by that.

“Can we just …” Karkat’s voice drags you back from your thoughts. He seems to be almost nervous, and you wonder why. “Can we just stay in bed today?”

“Sure.” You reply, flashing him a grin. “That’s fine by me. Here, let me just get my laptop and we can watch some dumb movie or something.” He gives you a nod as you sit up, retrieve your laptop, and scoot down on the bed to set it before the two of you.

You throw on the first movie you find and settle down to relax, your arms folded on your pillow and your head resting on them. Karkat’s resting in a similar way, though he shuffles closer after a few minutes so that your sides are pressed together under your blanket.

It still amuses you how touchy-feely Karkat turned out to be. You’ve got no problems with it, and actually you find yourself wanting to be in physical contact with him as often as possible. He’s very much real and it really helps you remember what’s important sometimes.

As the movie wears on, you somehow shift about and end up with an arm draped over Karkat, lying on your side with his back pressed against your chest. And, towards the end when you’re feeling particularly good and sappy and a little bold, you drop your head to press your lips to his forehead.

Karkat doesn’t react, but you see the smile he doesn’t even try to hide.

This, you think, is what it means to love and be loved. To be able to be sweet and cute and do shit like that. It’s hard to tell where you’ll be in a few years time, and honestly you don’t even know if you’ll manage to beat the Game and come out of it with your lives, but for right here and right now, you’ve got Karkat and you don’t feel lonely with him. You don’t feel afraid.

You don’t feel broken.