[Karkat doesn't question the flinch or the tears; instead he tightens his hold, then adjusts it so Dave can get comfortable and he can begin stroking his friend's back. No matter what his motives, it feels like an indulgence, but since it also seems to be helping (is that the same thing?), Karkat doesn't stop.
Humans don't do quadrants anyway. It doesn't count.
His hand falters when Dave speaks again, though, and while he does recover, there's a new underlying tension in his frame that's impossible to miss. He hadn't needed the extra details, not when he'd seen Jade on LOFAF himself and there was only one way left for Dave to die, but hearing it puts a lump in his squawk blister anyway. How he's managed to avoid crying himself this whole time is anyone's guess, but with this sort of despair in Dave's voice and him apologizing over Karkat's shirt like either of them should fucking care—]
Shoosh, Dave. It's just a fucking shirt. It's not like your tears stain anyway.
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Humans don't do quadrants anyway. It doesn't count.
His hand falters when Dave speaks again, though, and while he does recover, there's a new underlying tension in his frame that's impossible to miss. He hadn't needed the extra details, not when he'd seen Jade on LOFAF himself and there was only one way left for Dave to die, but hearing it puts a lump in his squawk blister anyway. How he's managed to avoid crying himself this whole time is anyone's guess, but with this sort of despair in Dave's voice and him apologizing over Karkat's shirt like either of them should fucking care—]
Shoosh, Dave. It's just a fucking shirt. It's not like your tears stain anyway.
[Not like his used to. Not like his should.
He lets his forehead drop to Dave's shoulder.]
I'm sorry.