Dave thinks about saying it. He's not sure he wants to, when it's so...not needy, though it is, but in need, desperately; when he thinks Karkat wouldn't deny him anything right now, and it wouldn't--it can't be fair to ask for something so enormous, not when Dave himself doesn't understand what the asking would even be for.
Karkat didn't give "sorry" back to him yet and he already used "thank you." What does Dave even have if he doesn't have words? Nothing. His sword, his act, he left all of that on a stone slab on LOFAF, fading away as swiftly and unstoppably as his life had, leaving him the ghost of what Bro had made him.
No. Stop.
Dirk isn't Bro. Bro isn't here. Karkat's here, right here, and after a second to swallow, Dave lets go of the bedsheets, slips right through Karkat's arms to disappear beneath the covers completely, and folds himself around Karkat instead, bumps into his chest.]
Okay.
[He shifts so it's his ear pressing against Karkat's chest, so he can hear the rise and fall of his breathing or even his heart.
Dirk didn't do anything, and Bro's not here. But Dave will never stop watching for him now, never stop waiting for that shitty sneaker to drop, never forget that there's no such thing as safety.
But Karkat's here. If...if Bro does come, either Dave will be ready and that'll be fine, or...Karkat wouldn't even let Bro get near, would he. Bro doesn't go up against straightforward aggression, that's not his M.O., and if Karkat says he's not wanted...
Dave lets the muscles of his back and neck relax, slowly, curled into Karkat's shirt. He breathes out.]
We can watch TV.
[He doesn't want to sleep. Not when the aftertaste of fear still sits so sour in his throat. He doesn't want that kind of quiet.]
action
Dave thinks about saying it. He's not sure he wants to, when it's so...not needy, though it is, but in need, desperately; when he thinks Karkat wouldn't deny him anything right now, and it wouldn't--it can't be fair to ask for something so enormous, not when Dave himself doesn't understand what the asking would even be for.
Karkat didn't give "sorry" back to him yet and he already used "thank you." What does Dave even have if he doesn't have words? Nothing. His sword, his act, he left all of that on a stone slab on LOFAF, fading away as swiftly and unstoppably as his life had, leaving him the ghost of what Bro had made him.
No. Stop.
Dirk isn't Bro. Bro isn't here. Karkat's here, right here, and after a second to swallow, Dave lets go of the bedsheets, slips right through Karkat's arms to disappear beneath the covers completely, and folds himself around Karkat instead, bumps into his chest.]
Okay.
[He shifts so it's his ear pressing against Karkat's chest, so he can hear the rise and fall of his breathing or even his heart.
Dirk didn't do anything, and Bro's not here. But Dave will never stop watching for him now, never stop waiting for that shitty sneaker to drop, never forget that there's no such thing as safety.
But Karkat's here. If...if Bro does come, either Dave will be ready and that'll be fine, or...Karkat wouldn't even let Bro get near, would he. Bro doesn't go up against straightforward aggression, that's not his M.O., and if Karkat says he's not wanted...
Dave lets the muscles of his back and neck relax, slowly, curled into Karkat's shirt. He breathes out.]
We can watch TV.
[He doesn't want to sleep. Not when the aftertaste of fear still sits so sour in his throat. He doesn't want that kind of quiet.]
Or read a book. Anything you want.