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5 ∅ [Anonymous Text]
[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
what was growing up like for you
like
how was your childhood
were you happy
[action]
[It isn't much of a defense, assuming it's a defense at all, but Karkat doesn't care about that. So what if he's just saying stuff? It's still true, and if Dave is this fucked up over all of it, any and all cultural differences don't make an iota of difference.]
It doesn't matter if he wasn't going to eat someone. He fucking scared you and made you feel unsafe, right? That's—that's wrong no matter what species you are, don't try and say it wasn't so bad just because he wasn't a giant fucking spider.
[The fact that Karkat can throw together a sentence like that and see absolutely nothing wrong with it probably says all that needs to be said about trolls. Whatever, not the issue, Dave is shaking and that needs to stop. He deserves a moirail who doesn't let that shit happen to begin with, but since he's stuck with Karkat...
Stifling an exasperated sigh at himself, he adjusts his hold on Dave so that he's no longer squeezing him half to death, instead gently cradling him and stroking his hair. Shh, shh, it's okay.]
Whatever he did to make you feel that way about him was wrong, and I know you wouldn't just say that shit if it wasn't something really fucked up. I know you, Dave.
[Not everything about him, which is abundantly clear from this whole conversation, but enough to know that Dave wouldn't exaggerate anything if it would make him seem weaker. He wouldn't admit the truth if it made him seem weaker, and what kind of stupidity is that? Is that because of his lusus, too?]
[action]
[His body's giving him mixed signals everywhere. The hand in his hair is still the nicest thing, being held like this makes him just want to kind of turn off and go to sleep (and not think about this, put off thinking about this until forever, until never); but his brain is still racing, still spinning its wheels endlessly on a single track.
The shaking slows, then starts again. Starts and slows. It's slowing more than starting up again, though, and Dave feels weirdly disconnected from himself, almost. Weirdly distant, like his words are coming from somewhere else.
But he can still feel Karkat's hand in his hair. His arm around him. That's good.]
I don't know. I don't know, Karkat, he...he's dead and I don't get it. If it was so bad, then how could he do that to...Why, why would he...
[Why would Bro treat him like a cheap, unloved toy--something he could throw around until he got bored and only paid the slightest attention to because he was there, because he wasn't shitty enough to just throw out? Why would he do that if he understood it hurt him? How could he do that if he cared at all?
Did he?
Dave finally moves enough to slip his arms around Karkat in return, to press his face into his shoulder like that could mask how small his voice is, how much it hurts to ask.]
If he didn't want me, why didn't he just...?
[He can't even finish the question.]
[action]
I don't know.
[Karkat isn't sure if Dave genuinely expects an answer, but he has to say something. He can't let this pain go unacknowledged, and even if he doesn't know what to do about it, responding at all has to count for something, right? He's listening, he's here, and he's sure as fuck not going to back out of this moirallegiance just because his palemate's shit is beyond his capacity to handle. He can't leave. He doesn't want to leave. How the fuck could anyone not want Dave?
He doesn't stop petting his hair even though that much still feels inadequate—story of his fucking life, obviously. He doesn't know what Dave needs. If he could think of something else to say, maybe...
Karkat hesitates, then tries again.]
Some people—trolls, and I guess lusii, are just broken that way. There isn't always a reason.
[People like Vriska—or Gamzee, more likely, who just didn't know how the fuck to do anything or relate to people without hurting them. God, is that what Dave had meant when he'd first told Karkat he was broken? But that's—no, that couldn't be it, Dave could never be like that. Not his moirail.]
I don't know why else anyone wouldn't want you.
[action]
I wish I hadn't killed Rose's pony with my butt. Then maybe it could've raised me and all my problems would just be about, I don't know, rough pastures and oats and shit. [His expression twists into a grimace against Karkat's shoulder.] Instead of whatever the fuck you want to call this.
[After a beat, he lifts himself from Karkat's shoulder so he can press his hand over his face. He's not crying, he's not--he literally can't and think about Bro at the same time. It had been the same on LOWAS, when he'd seen him pinned there in his own blood like he was...like he was one of Dave's dead bugs, stuck to cardstock in a frame. Like Bro was that fragile and fleeting. Like he was human.
His other hand sticks to Karkat's shoulder like it's glued. Magnetized. Please don't let him go.]
Can you believe--I, I thought everyone was in the same boat? John and Rose were always griping bitterly about all the goddamn affection their parents would lay on them, all the cake and heartfelt notes, and...I guess Jade's granddad was dead basically the whole time I knew her and she was alone with her dog on that fucking island, but she made...she made him sound like he really loved her, too. And I didn't understand, but I had to laugh along like, yeah, okay, I guess this is the same as living with a fucking...expressionless psychotic robot, I don't know. Like, was Jade's dead taxidermied old man corpse better at taking care of her than my own fuckin'--my own--
[Dave cuts his own damn self off, gritting his teeth. Forces it down, even if Karkat said not to, because the last thing he ever wants to do is scare Karkat with how fucking awful he feels. Not Karkat. Not after everything he's been through.
He has to pull his hand back, though, to rub both of them over his eyes. Stupid shades, always in the way.]
I wish I could've been with her. Or with Rose, or with--
[With literally anyone who wasn't Bro.
Well, maybe not the crazy spider monster.
Slowly, he leans forward again, hands still pressed over his face, and lets his forehead bump to a rest against Karkat's shoulder again. Bunp.]
Sorry, this is why--why I didn't want to talk about it, but. Karkat, I wish I met you a million years ago so I could've figured out what someone caring about me was supposed to look like. So I wouldn't...so I wouldn't have to feel so stupid now.
[action]
The more Dave speaks, though, the clearer it becomes that yeah, that was overcompensation, and Karkat gives his moirail a reassuring squeeze on principle, settling in easily enough to listen because like fuck does he have a single goddamn clue what else to do right now. He may not be as good a listener as the Mayor (no one is), but he's better at it than offering advice. That will have to do.
Unfortunately, he's no closer to knowing what to say to make this better by the time Dave stumbles through his apology, and quickly, the hand that had been semi-frozen at the nape of Dave's neck relocates to his cheek for a gentle pap. Why the fuck is he sorry, in what universe is that the correct response? What the hell—]
You aren't stupid. Shoosh, Dave, none of this is your fault.
[His thumb collides with the ridge of those damned, damned sunglasses, and with an exasperated huff, he gently lifts Dave's chin just enough that he can tug them off and set them aside. He should have done that earlier, but whatever, they're out of the way now.]
You didn't know how things were supposed to be, so of course you're going to need time to figure things out. It's not your fault.
[He smooths down Dave's hair again, rests his head against the one parked comfortably on his shoulder.]
You were fucking six sweeps old when I met you. If you only had those experiences to go on, then how would you know better? It's okay.
[Inasmuch as it can be okay, but Karkat stands by what he'd said. Dave had been fucking thirteen in human years and then he'd been stuck on a meteor full of aliens, none of whom had had anything resembling normal upbringings even by their species' standards. So, with only his own experiences and all that shit to go by... it makes sense that Dave hadn't put this together until now.]
[action]
It's not your fault. It's not your fault. You're okay.]
How do you do that...
[He should be upset. He is upset, or will be again, he's pretty sure. Every truth he's built himself on turned out to be pretend, a fairy tale he wove to protect himself because monsters didn't stay under the bed where he lived, and blankets wouldn't stop them.
But he feels all right. Not great, not even close, but soothed, maybe. Stabilized. Karkat's not talking to him like Dave's gotta be coaxed down in whispers like a cornered animal, like the world is falling apart; he's just talking to him like normal. It makes it feel normal. Like he's got this. Like he doesn't have to be falling apart.
How does he do that?]
How do you just. Make things okay. Pretty sure 's not all okay, but it's really hard to argue with you when you're here being all reasonable and making sense.
[...Mm. Dave rubs the spot between his eyes against Karkat's shoulder.]
And petting me, I guess. That probably helps.
[action]
Impulsively, he ruffles the hair he'd been meticulously grooming mere seconds ago, and even if he immediately goes back to carefully teasing each strand back into place, he just. Shut up, he doesn't need to explain himself.]
The petting is fucking crucial, and I will fight anyone who claims otherwise. [He really will. Maybe. Okay, probably not.] I can't believe you're choosing now to analyze it. Didn't you say I was the one who overcomplicates things? Shoosh and leave the thinking to people who are mentally qualified to handle it, moron.
[... Yes, even though he'd also just spent some time previously establishing that no, Dave is not an idiot. This is clearly different.
Gradually, his hand slows, then stops. Dave may seem to have improved over earlier, but with a subject like this... there has to be more he can do to help him. For once, he thinks he might have an idea of what that could be.]
You don't have to be afraid to talk about things with me. I'm not going to... fuck.
[He pulls his arm back just long enough to scratch at his own head, then wraps it around Dave again.]
I don't think there's anything you could tell me that would make me stop... you know. [Fuck, why is this so hard this time, he'd said it enough times before.] My feelings for you aren't going to change. Not over something like this.
[action]
I. I know. I just...
[His mouth is open, like the words might just fall out, but there's nothing there. His shoulders slump a little more.]
It's hard to talk about. [That comes out way too plaintive, so he takes a deeper breath and tries again.] And I don't want to give you the wrong impression, like...i-if I'm wrong about it, or making stuff up. If I'm being too...
[Too sensitive. Too needy. Too, he doesn't know, too something. He shakes his head a little against Karkat's shoulder.]
I know you said I wasn't, but it's still...that's why I had to ask so many people, I don't know what was. What was wrong. Or where to start. ...Or if I should.
[So much for sounding normal. He can't get much louder than a mumble. But he's not shaking anymore, at least. He rubs his palm over the flat of Karkat's back to ground himself more than anything.]
It's been a really long time.
[action]
[How many times does he need to shoosh this human, surely there's some upper limit. Not that Karkat actually minds, however much he'll pretend otherwise once it stops mattering, but it still kills him a little every time Dave's voice falters and he struggles to speak. He's making Dave too defensive, and how the fuck had he even managed that? It's the exact opposite of the effect he'd been aiming for. Fuck, he's so stupid.
Biting his lower lip, he gives his moirail another squeeze and tries to think of the best way to phrase his response. If this incident were absolutely one hundred percent guaranteed to be the last time Dave faced this dilemma, he wouldn't think anything of it, but yeah no, there's no chance in hell. So...]
Needing time to sort it out is different. And I'm not going to blame you if you need to ask other people first, especially if it's about human bullshit I don't fucking understand. I mean, it's—something we're both going to have to get used to. Our cultures are too different.
[Except Dave had a metric fuckton of humans to choose from while Karkat haoh wow look at that, a change in subject! Fucking focus, Present Karkat, this isn't about you.]
So if you're not talking to me because of that, or because you're just not ready yet... that's totally fine, all right? I just don't want you to hold back because you think I'll judge you for it or flip my shit or whatever.
You can tell me anything, Dave. When you're ready.
[action]
But still. Still, he's got to...]
...Even if I never get there?
[He turns his head a little, though there isn't much point. He can't see much besides the side of Karkat's neck, can't read his face or his body language.]
You'll still...you won't think it's your fault? Or feel...disappointed, or, or think I'm not trying, or...
[Yeah, there probably isn't an upper limit for how much Karkat has to shoosh this human. Shooshing is not part of his vocabulary. The Fountain of Strider cannot be stopped up.]
...It'll be okay?
[action]
Karkat goes still, hardly daring to breathe. If Dave doesn't—no, what the fuck, he's acting like an entitled little bitch, who is he to demand that his moirail tell him everything, that there be no secrets between them? Maybe somewhere out there, there is—was some lucky pair whose moirallegiance functioned like that, but Karkat is a goddamn expert at this shit by now and should know that it doesn't always work like that. He's just—he's so fucking tired of secrets and skulking in the shadows and never being there, ever, but Dave has nothing to do with that. That isn't Dave.
And if he gets stubborn and insists on something even he knows is utter bullshit, no matter how much he wishes it wasn't, he'll only drive Dave away.]
I'm—I'm not—
[Fuck could he be any more transparent? He's so selfish, stupid, worthless, he wouldn't even blame Dave at this point if he just got up and left.
He tries taking a deep breath, then another. Come on, this shouldn't be such a federal fucking issue.]
I won't blame you if you don't. It's okay, Dave.
[action]
There are a lot of things Dave doesn't understand. Nuclear physics, for one. How anyone could think Snoop Dogg isn't the greatest rapper--the greatest creative genius of any musical genre--of his generation. He doesn't understand a good two thirds of the things Karkat says to him because most of them involve either troll society or troll anatomy, neither of which he has studied extensively.
Dave doesn't know how to get meaning out of faces, out of the emotive layers of words. He doesn't know the language. But he does know how to read the particular stillnesses of a body.]
Karkat...
[Dave's holding him, there's no way he doesn't notice how Karkat stops, how long it takes for him to say anything. His palm is flat between Karkat's shoulder blades, and he rubs between them again, moves his hand up to cup the back of his neck before he shifts back to look at him. Lifts his other hand slowly to the side of his jaw.]
I'll try. I...don't say stuff you don't mean, Karkat, it's okay or it isn't but I don't want...
[He doesn't want Karkat to fuckin' martyr himself for his sake. He doesn't want him to say it's okay when it isn't.
He doesn't want to be Bro.
He searches Karkat's face, feeling like he's hiding even while he's right there. He doesn't look away. His voice stays hushed.]
Please don't go along with something you don't want to.
[action]
... He's so fucking weak.]
I d-don't want you to hide things from me.
[The instant the word leave his mouth, he's cringing at them, flinching away from Dave's touch because what the ever-loving hell is wrong with him? God, he sounds so miserable, so pathetic, is he actually this fucking disgusting? Can't keep his own shit in check for a second, oh, sure, prime palemate material he is, who the fuck would trust him to look after them? Dave doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve to be trapped in a quadrant with him, why had he ever opened his fucking mouth in the first place?
He scrubs hard at his eyes and pulls back from Dave entirely, trying to retreat. This was such a fucking mistake, what had he been thinking?]
I just—I just wanted you to t—I kn-know that isn't it, it's just hard for you, you don't need to explain that. I just d-don't want to make you...
[He's not making any sense and he knows it, but every aborted half-sentence is just so awful and he fucking refuses to finish any of them. He doesn't want to control Dave or make him feel guilty or anything; none of this is his fault. It's all Karkat. It's always Karkat's fault.
He rises abruptly, not giving Dave a chance to react. Fuck this. Fuck everything.]
I should go, I'm not—I'm n-not helping you. This isn't what you need.
[He turns and begins to leave.]
[action]
But the sight of his back bites through him like his first step into LOFAF (into the wicked cold, into those high, lonely stars, into the knowledge of that death takes everything) and Dave is past Karkat and pressed back against the door before he can think; he's speaking before he recognizes his voice.]
No, no no no. No, I...
[Dave stills, and the shame catches up like a second blow, but even that can't take out the leaden refusal in his gut, the absolute nonacceptance humming through his bones. Karkat can't leave, and how selfish is that, but Karkat can't leave, not when he looks so crushed.
Dave sags an inch down the door, tries to compose himself. It's hard. Finally, he raises his hands a little, turns them palm-up.]
If--if you want to go, for a while...or... [Karkat leaving for longer than a while doesn't even bear thinking about. Dave tries to swallow the hurt that wells up, but some of it reaches his face before he can cover his mouth and turn away, creasing his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Breathe. Breathe. He can't look at Karkat while he says this, as he moves his hand just far enough away to speak.] Then I won't. Stop you. And I'll be here when you come back, and--it'll be okay.
[If he comes back. If Dave hasn't scared Karkat off for good, made him feel weak and inadequate in the face of how fucked he is. He tried to warn him but Karkat always takes on more than could ever be good for him; Karkat would shoulder the whole world and snap at anyone who came close, even if it was to help him.
Remembering that doesn't salve the stupid little ache too deep in his chest to smooth away. The one that says, bitter, You opened me this much, and now you'll leave me like this.
Concentrate.]
But if--Christ, I. [Dave bites his knuckle until it hurts enough to focus him, until he can drop his arms and meet Karkat's eyes again, however shakily.] If it's about, about me? I've been freighting this bullshit around with me for eight sweeps. I only even started looking at it 'cause of you, I only...I only could 'cause you're here. So don't start saying shit like--like I don't need you.
[Blurting it out leaves him open, leaves him naked, and he doesn't look away. His eyes stay steady, his voice low.]
You said it was both ways. That I'd take care of you, too. What the fuck, Karkat, you don't have to--to earn the right to be with me.
[action]
He regrets it an instant later but not because he'd been wrong. He just wishes he could have done anything to keep that look from crossing Dave's face, protected the fragile hope he'd heard in his voice earlier before he'd fucking ruined it, the way he always does. He shouldn't have—he should have—
There's something awful building in this throat, some wounded animal sound that he absolutely can't turn loose, and he strangles it in the only way he knows how, holding everything in until he can't tell if he's lightheaded from rage (at himself) or lack of oxygen. It doesn't help, he's a fucking mess no matter what he does, but Dave doesn't need to hear him screaming imprecations at himself on top of everything else.
Breathe. Fucking breathe, you sack of shit, then do something actually useful with that perfectly good air you just wasted and fix this.]
Dave.
[Oh, brilliant start, I am just fucking swooning over here with your mastery of all things romance. Why don't you try sounding a little more desperate, I don't think he got the fucking hint!]
Dave, I—please, I don't—I never want to leave you.
[His voice is as small as it gets, and furiously, he wipes at his eyes again, sniffs to try and stop—everything. Anything. Why does he keep fucking everything up? He's so tired of it.]
Never. Not if—not if I don't have to.
[He'll only make things worse. That's all he ever does, he's seen it.]
But you... you c-can't need me, I'm no good for anyone. I probably—fuck, you only t-took me as a moirail because you don't know any better, and I just—
[He breaks off, tries sucking in another breath, but nothing comes. He can't do this, he can't fucking do this, how was any of that supposed to help?
This time, he can't hold back his sob, and he buries his face in his hands, wanting to cry at his inability not to because that's a completely fucking logical leap to make, someone nominate you for the Troll Nobel Prize, it's a scientific breakthrough wait no that's just every septic tank in paradox space exploding from the sheer force of how BULGE BREAKINGLY STUPID YOU ARE, YOU SELFISH, SPINELESS LUMP OF GENITAL DISCHARGE.
A shuddering gasp finally makes it through, and with it, Karkat tries yet again.]
This—this bullshit, it's—how? How am I s-supposed to... you shouldn't have to put up with me when you have so much to deal with already!
[action]
He's not leaving. He doesn't want to.
Dave will take broken-hearted weeping over that. At least broken-hearted weeping's let him know what the problem actually is. At least broken-hearted weeping's almost familiar at this point--which sucks and is wrong, so wrong, but it's not leaving.
Dave will take a lot of things over leaving. Dave will die a thousand times before he lets Karkat go off alone.
Eyes closed, he tips his head back against the door with a muted bump, and his voice comes out soft and aching.]
God, you're so dumb.
[He is the palemeister.
He pats the floor next to him blindly, then, eyes still shut, holds his arms out like a kid asking to be picked up. Except there's no way Karkat can lift his long noodle ass, so...?]
C'mere. Sit. I'm not letting you go anywhere like this, Jesus. Do not pass Go, use my shirt as a tissue, I don't care. If you try to open the door over my head I will fucking haul you back by your ankles, don't test me, bro.
[Ah. It seems he is requesting hug time right here on the hotel room floor. Get down here, Karkat, he's tired and he can't keep playing this fourth of the YMCA forever. He opens his eyes, gentle now.]
Come here.
[action]
The quiet declaration only receives another flinch at first, but while it initially resembles the ongoing Litany of Reasons Why Karkat Vantas Sucks, it also... doesn't. For one, it's too short, and for another...
It's too soft.
He dares to look up at the Dave-puddle on the floor, and. What. What the fuck is this. Hello, sorry, no, he does not speak your language, what is this thing you're doing, please? Hello? Dave actually wants him to—him!—to come over?
There has to be some mistake. But... fuck, even if this is just some act of platonic pity, something to get Karkat to shut the fuck up before whoever owns this temporary communal hivestem kicks them out, he's sick to death of fucking fighting, especially when the one he's fighting is—]
Dave.
[He'd been right, probably—Karkat, that is, and about himself. He couldn't possibly be more pathetic when it comes to this human.
He stumbles over his feet more than once on the way (why the fuck are his legs suddenly jelly, this is stupid), but soon, he's sinking to the ground right next to his moirail and throwing his arms around him. If Dave wants him to let go, he'll have to get a fucking crowbar to pry him off, end of story.]
[action]
There you are.
[And he was where, before? Whatever. Dave sighs across the side of Karkat's neck, content with how right it is to hold and be held by him.]
My turn to be right about stuff. [He nuzzles the space behind Karkat's ear, noses along the line between his hair and his skin.] You don't get to disagree with me because you're automatically wrong. Your response options are 'Yes, wise and learned brainmaster Dave,' or 'massive incoherent crying, but only because I'm too touched for words, not 'cause I'm sad.'
[Dammit. Why doesn't he have three arms. He doesn't want to let Karkat go, probably ever, so he settles for resting the gentle pressure of his cheek alongside Karkat's cheek, for loosening one arm (and not the other, Karkat's not going anywhere) to run his hand in a slow, rhythmic path between his shoulder blades.]
You appear to have acquired some humongous misconceptions about things, which I suppose could be partially my fault for not articulating them properly. But, I mean, you already know I'm fucking junk when it comes to this stuff, it's all new: being pale, hearing nice things expressed about my person without some kind of jokey twist, learning how to be...open and honest about stuff that hurts. [He rubs his cheek gently against Karkat's face. Sorry. He's sorry.] So maybe in conversation I've been focusing a lot on that, on all the newness, and slacking on some of the other fronts.
[He wants to look at Karkat while he says this, but Karkat is a mess and also is very warm and huggable, so Dave just squeezes him again, cuddles up close.]
I may not know what to do with--with affection besides stare helplessly like a tottering fawn into the headlights as it makes emotional Dave pancakes out of my heart's ass--[What?]--but, Jesus, dunkass. [He lets another breath sigh past Karkat's ear.] I grew up knowing John and Jade and Rose. I know what fucking good looks like.
[Softer, now.] ...It looks like you. You help people who never give anything back, and you're smart, and you listen, and, and you care...
[He trails off, momentarily overcome. Keeps holding Karkat. How does he not know how good, how precious, how immeasurably valuable he is, how important it is that he exists? Christ.]
I'll go on in a minute. But first, fuck you for implying I don't know what I'm doing here with you. You insult me, I'm insulted, gag on an entire carton of dicks.
[He doesn't sound insulted, not the way he hefts Karkat up against him like he's considering just gathering him straight into his lap, the way he rubs his nose into Karkat's shoulder again.]
That's, like, an egg carton, by the way. So twelve dicks. Eat twelve jumbo cage-free dicks, Karkat, I wouldn't have a moirail if it wasn't you.
[action]
He sniffs and hides his face against Dave's chest because fuck you, no, he is not going to cry because he's moved or whatever, who does Dave even think he's trying to fool here? He'd—do something ram the idiot's head into the door again because ~*Dave's heart's ass pancakes*~ alone deserves some form of retaliation, possibly of the extreme variety, but he's not moving for anything right now. Even if that would be satisfying. Holy fuck how can anyone be this bad at piletalk.
As for... the other parts...
He hugs Dave tighter still and sniffs again. He'll do more than straight up cling once he's no longer in danger of losing his shit all over the place, okay?]
You're either braindead, delusional, or your feeble, carbon-based human skull is so completely horrible at protecting your minuscule think pan that you somehow managed to give yourself a concussion from hitting that block aperture with insufficient force to kill a fucking marchbug.
[He pauses, then lifts his head just enough to nuzzle under Dave's jaw and at his throat before tucking his head back under his chin. Just. Give him a minute.]
... I'm sorry.
[Not about the concussion thing; Dave deserved that. He hadn't deserved everything else.]
[action]
Mammalian bone mineral's mostly calcium, numbnuts.
[At least, he thinks that's true. Some kind of inorganic compound thereof, he's pretty sure, though there's organic material in there, too.
Man. Bones. Bones are cool.
With Karkat's head under his chin, he just rests his face in the rats' nest Karkat calls hair. Settles in comfortably. His heart rate's halfway back to normal now that Karkat's not going anywhere, thumping less wildly in his throat. It's going to be okay. He closes his eyes.]
Sorry for what. For being good to me? Dude.
[action]
Like I give a fuck what chemical composition any of your anatomy has. But fine, the next time I insinuate I've seen behemoth leavings with a harder consistency than your cranium, I'll remember it.
[Asshole. He'd be so easy to hate if he weren't so fucking pitiable, which is really not the issue right now. Karkat just doesn't want to... ugh. It would be hypocritical beyond belief if he kept his mouth shut now, wouldn't it?
He tries to focus on the rise and fall of Dave's chest beneath his head, the way his voice resonates through his thin frame. Fuck, is he eating enough? Or argh stop getting distracted.]
... Sorry for freaking out at you. And trying to leave.
[action]
[He hums it right into Karkat's hair. It occurs to Dave that it's really good he's already sitting down, because he's not even trying to do anything and yet his legs still feel like bean paste. Between everything this, what, ten minutes or so has been, between having to stare The Bro Shit right in the douchey shades and the tide of relief at getting Karkat to stay, he can feel the tension almost literally draining out of him. He has enough energy for an idle thought--how is he going to stand back up?--but it doesn't super matter, and he just concentrates on the steady weight of Karkat against his chest and times his own heartbeat. One two three. One two three. One two. One two.]
Apology unnecessary on the first count, but accepted on the second. [A beat.] You can get me one of those fat, face-sized waffles for breakfast if it's gonna keep bothering you, I guess.
[The soul of magnanimity, it is him. He rubs his cheekbone somewhere above Karkat's temple and breathes out.]
I--I'm sorry for stopping you, too. Not because I think you should have gone, because do you see yourself right now, no, of course not. [He moves his hand from Karkat's neck to sling both arms around him again, cuddle him close. Careful, careful.] But it felt like trapping you, and that's. I don't know, it just feels grody. So. Sorry.
[Karkat actually smells kind of nice.
Maybe his nose has Stockholm Syndrome.]
You know it's okay, right? To need stuff back from me. Like, frankly, I don't know how else it'd be supposed to work, anyway.
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As vitriolic as his thought processes are, though, they aren't the sort he'd want to share; he's been petty enough. Besides, it isn't Dave's fault that he has to tiptoe around Karkat's feelings like they're a rabid cholerbear. That's—ugh. Fuck, why won't his think pan just stop?
He curls into Dave a little more and shuts his eyes, more grateful for the arms around him than ever. He isn't even thinking about standing, shit's overrated anyway. Maybe next sweep.]
I'm glad you stopped me.
[It sounds stupid and doesn't address Dave's question at all, but he's building up to that, really. He just needs to make this clear before getting into anything.
Shifting restlessly, he adjusts his hold on Dave and stretches his legs out under him, trying to get more comfortable. Why do they keep ending up on the floor like this? No, god, stop procrastinating. Tell him.]
It's—I'm not good at it. At saying when I need someone. [Because that wasn't obvious? He shudders and tightens his hold again.] Or having a moirail who—who's actually around.
[To say the least. And, even if there had been that familiar jolt of fear, he'd managed to push past it, keep from completely fucking spiraling into his usual whatever-the-fuck those were when he thought of Gamzee. He's getting better.
He traces idle patterns on Dave's back for a second or two before concluding,]
I'll try to get better at—at telling you when I need you to, uh. To shoosh me or whatever.
[Was that casual enough. Say it was casual enough. Just lie, he doesn't care.]
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I'll get better, too. At hearing when you say it. [He knows, he knows how hard it is. He'll learn the other ways Karkat says it, the cues he can mark.] ...Shoosh for a while, though. I want to tell you something, and if you stop me, you'll fuck me up.
[He strokes Karkat's back, gathering his thoughts, preparing himself for what he's going to try to do. Finally, he breathes in, exhales shakily across the top of Karkat's head.]
W-when Bro was there...I mean, I guess that was bad. [He breathes in deeply again and plows as far ahead as he can get from that small, raw admission.] But he'd go off a lot to play shows, or...I don't know, I guess. I don't know what he did when he wasn't there. But it was worse when he was gone.
I'd be left alone with--with all those fucking puppets. And it was fine when he was there, because when he was there, like--they were his, they belonged to him, everything in the apartment sort of oriented itself to him. Even...even me. When he was there, things just sort of happened the way he wanted, so even if it was shitty, at least, at least you knew what was up. Who was pulling the strings.
But he'd go, and, like...I'd tell myself it was cool, that he was treating me like I could take care of myself. And I had free run of the apartment and could mess with his shit if I thought I could handle it, like he trusted my judgment. But when he wasn't there, it was dead quiet in there, and all these dolls were just lying around with their eyes open at nothing and I...
[...Too far in. Too much. Dave comes back to where he is with a shiver, tugs Karkat closer, shakes his head to clear it and tries to will the chill and the sudden goosebumps away.]
I couldn't tell him I needed him, it'd...not just for that, even. Like if I didn't have enough food stashed up, or something broke, or I got hurt, I couldn't...he wasn't there. I had to just not need things until he got back, and then...I mean, if I could handle it on my own, then why should I bring it up later, either? I was, I was cool.
[His voice drops, low and bitter.]
But I wasn't. [Dave lets it sit there for a moment, lets it sink into his own ears. It's true. He has to accept that, now. He rocks Karkat a little, slowly, his face in his hair.] So don't you do that to yourself. You need something, you come get it. You're allowed. I--I want you to.
You can need me. It's okay. ...It makes me feel like I matter. You know?
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He's not in an ideal position to do much besides listen, but wherever he can, whenever Dave's words fail him or his memories threaten to pull him under, Karkat is there with a gentle squeeze or a nuzzle to try and ground him. "You're safe now," he wants to say, or "I'm here," anything to reassure Dave that he isn't alone—god, leaving really would have been the dumbest thing ever, wouldn't it? Great fucking job with that one, Past Karkat, why not leave your moirail to face all his demons on his own, it's not like you'd have any idea at all how fucking miserable that is, right?
The constant self-recrimination is muffled by the need to fucking listen so he can help Dave in any way he can, but it's by no means gone. How is he supposed to be a good moirail if he can't turn it off?
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it's Dave who manages to actually silence it, if temporarily. Trolls aren't typically rocked by their lusii, so Karkat doesn't fully understand what's happening at first, but it's... really, really nice. Calming. It gives him the focus he needs to make this better for Dave, and ultimately, that's all he cares about.
... On that note—]
Dave, you matter for so many more reasons than because I need you.
[It could have sounded sweet. It still does, to some extent, but only by virtue of the words themselves. The tone, on the other frond, is very much not because Calm Karkat is and always has been a blink of a glance nugget away from Angry Karkat and oh my god what is he even hearing right now?
He squirms a little in Dave's arms, not enough to free himself or even free Dave because fuck you he's still got more cuddling to do but enough that he can look him straight in the eye and, okay, maybe they're a little too close for him to glare properly and their foreheads are touching. He's still not moving away.]
My turn to talk, you're wrong, etc, shut the fuck up. Dave, do you—do you have any idea how many people I've met in this place who've told me you helped them or spoke highly of you? Do you understand the impact you've had on newcomers like—like Ashley, who were coming here from all kinds of traumatic shit, or other people you've helped get oriented and figure out what the fuck is going on?
And don't think even for a fucking second that you're just—useful or convenient or whatever the fuck, like oh, because you've finished serving some purpose, you stop mattering and they've moved on. That isn't how it works. You don't only matter because I need you and I'm pale for you and that somehow guarantees your place in the universe. You matter because you're the one who's good. You're smart and caring and—and so much stronger than I ever was.
[His eyes flick away for a moment, then back.]
I guess a lot of that stoic bullshit isn't something you could really help picking up with your insane lusus, but... you still dealt with all of that and Sburb and it didn't break you. You're one of the strongest people I know.
[He pauses for a fraction of a second, anger subsiding because this is important, dammit. The rest needs to be said softly.]
And needing someone doesn't make you weaker.
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