Eridan Ampora is a mess. A boy on the constant brink of tears, his brow permanently furrowed and his tongue pressed to the top of his mouth, a habit picked up from his brother to prevent the tears that fill his existence and threaten to spill. He'd trained himself to be strong, to mask his insecurities with a false cage of superiority. Teaching his mind it's better to feel this aching, restless numbness than to leave it vulnerable.
Yet he cries. You watch him, his mouth open, retching on the pain he keeps suppressed and you, Karkat Vantas, a torn peice of art, realize that you've fallen for another broken puzzle peice, too frayed to fit with any other. But you convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that the tears in your corners will somehow aligne and you'll fit. Deep down, of course, you know Eridan's straight and even if he wasn't, the mismatched pieces would crush against each other ending in more pain.
Holding him hurts in itself, his body, once seeming so strong, now a trembling, fragile mess. You don't ask what's wrong, it's obvious that he'll tell you if he needs. No, you'd rather hold him that use a million words that amount to nothing.
There's a dull noise that penetrates the soft sound of his sobs and you close your eyes, picturing the ornate clock you know the sound stems from. It looks out of place amongst the woven blue rugs and various trinkets scattered across every surface; Eridan claims that his Dad brings them back from the places he's always traveling to, and yet you feels as though it fits Eridan, this mismatched haven you love. It only really figures now that the reason you love it it because it reminds you of him. You let your mind travel to all the things he's told you, all the pointless facts your mind grasps at.
You guess the white noise of the clock and your own stupid thoughts lulled the mess of your mind to sleep as when you opened your eyes again, the sky was shades darker. "Shit." you muttered. It wasn't like you were scared of the dark, but no one would want to be around the kind of areas you live in this lighting. Chewing on a loose bit of skin on your index finger, you considered your options. You could walk home now, accepting the possibility of some sort of attack or you could stay at Eridan's. Eridan wouldn't mind, you're sure of that much - of course your brother would be pissed but you decide he can suck it, a peaceful moment close to Eridan is worth a life time of lectures. You text anyway, telling him you're staying at a friend's though not specifying which, fully aware he doesn't like the Amporas; you know he'll ask but you decide to cross that bridge when you come to it. You decide you should check with Eridan despite your certainty of his acceptance, turning around to tap him on the shoulder. It didn't occur to you that he might be asleep, that his mind might have abandoned his insecurity, his stupid strength and jerky facade. In sleep, his face is the epitome of purity, untouched by bitterness and hate. His beauty strikes you, a sharp blow of realisation; whilst you often find yourself staring, you've never been able to examine him this closely before, never truly been able to gaze at what can't be yours. It's almost painful. You feel guilty, although you don't know of what, all you do know is that your heart plans to escape your chest, leaving you, a helpless fool in an undeserving puddle at his feet.
Silently, you take his glasses off, it's a small, excusable gesture yet it seems to quicken your heartbeat. You don't want to wake him, to disturb these beautifully peacefully features that are so rarely this calm. Instead you tug his blanket out from underneath him, placing it over the two of you. It feels as though you're magnetized to him, trying in vain to keep yourself away when you want to be wrapped in his arms. Sighing at your gay thoughts, you force yourself to sleep.