[It's kneejerk to flinch on contact, to brace to be thrown, but nothing happens. Nothing happens. Dave risks looking up, and it's just Karkat, Karkat being so careful with him he doesn't even think to resist until there are words again. Such a simple It's okay shouldn't set him off so bad, shouldn't make his eyes brim over hot and awful anew, shouldn't trap that pathetic noise in his throat before he lowers his forehead to Karkat's shoulder, makes a safe space of his collarbone where nobody can see him.

(Maybe no one's ever told him that before. Not about something this big. Not about crying, either. Not about falling apart.)

Dave just stays there for a while, back shuddering as he cries, until something gradually gives way and it's not so hard to breathe without sobbing. He hasn't stopped, not yet; but it's slower.]

It was heroic.

[Even through the wet, shredded mush that's become of Dave's voice, he says it like that disgusts him, like he'd spit the word as far as he could just to get away from it.]

What the fuck, Karkat, what kind of universe--even thinks Jade's death could be just, ever, and counts mine as...

[He presses his lips together again, then shakes his head minutely, finally lifts it from Karkat's shoulder so he can wipe under his shades with the back of his hand again. Another shaky breath, stuttering on the exhale. More sniffling.]

Sorry. Sorry, your shirt...