5 ∅ [Anonymous Text]

[callbacks]

[You'd think Dave would have learned his lesson about anonymity, but maybe learning doesn't stick so well at ass in the morning when he can't sleep. At least it doesn't seem like he's really trying to mask his identity, here. It's just...a plausible deniability thing, maybe. Probably, given the content of his message.]

what was growing up like for you
like
how was your childhood
were you happy

Comments

[action]

[quadrangle]

[The longer Dave goes without giving a response that Karkat can actually fucking hear, why do you always mumble you dickpimple, the more self-conscious he gets. Maybe it's a stupid idea, wanting to go out with his moirail, but they both really fucking need a moment to relax and just be together while not crying all over each other. Sharing space in a hotel room doesn't count, even if it's great in other ways.

... but Dave says yes, so maybe he shouldn't have worried. Doesn't mean he's not letting out a not-quite-imperceptible sigh of relief, though, or fighting back a grin wide enough to make his fucking face hurt. Argh, this is so uncool.]

Okay. Yeah, we can do that.

[Is that his voice? Since does he sound so—so bright and cheerful? Oh god, the smile is getting bigger and he can't stop it, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

He turns his head quickly away until he can get the damn thing under control and continues talking in what is probably the saddest excuse for a "normal" tone of voice in all of paradox space. He actually will smother Dave if he points this out, do not test him.]

Then, uh. Breakfast dinner. Tomorrow. Yeah.

[He glances back again and, after a slight pause, reaches over to brush Dave's hair away from his forehead.]

Get some sleep. You need it.

[action]

[callbacks]

[Wow. Oh, wow.

Karkat smiles like the sun, like he's the biggest thing in the sky, and Dave's never heard him so happy. He can't help but reflect some of it back, an incredulous half-moon smile he isn't even fully aware of as Karkat keeps pretending he's cool.

Karkat is happy.

Something tumbles in his chest in a giddy, breathless way, like rolling down a hill of fresh laundry under the clearest sky, light and warm and gold. He burns that smile into his bones, promises himself he'll never let it go.

(Uh-oh, some part of him thinks. Oh, shit.)

Still smiling faintly, he closes his eyes as Karkat's fingers graze his forehead, lifts his head slightly to follow the contact, just for a moment. He gets comfortable again, bunching the blankets in a tighter, safer cocoon.]

You sleep, fuckcroissant. You're the one taking me out tomorrow.

[He opens one eye a sliver for one more peek at that expression, feeling comfortable and warm and thrilled anyway, fluttery anyway, like the edges of a baby bird's wings keep brushing the inside of his ribs, soft and dreadful as flight.

(Oh no.)]

Good night, Karkat.

[action]

[quadrangle]

[Under normal circumstances, "fuckcroissant" might have sparked another half hour of trading insults for the hell of it, but Karkat's too touched by the implicit concern to protest. The cause could just as easily be Dave, he won't admit; his moirail spends so much time projecting the illusion of apathy that in unguarded moments like this...

His hand trails down to Dave's cheek and lingers for a moment while he tries to remember what he was going to say next that was so important. There was probably something, but between that smile and the repeated confirmation that they're going out to dinner tomorrow, it's completely escaped him. It couldn't have been that important.

He hesitates, staring at Dave's face for an eternal second before reluctantly beginning to draw away.]

Good night, Dave.