A/N: Well then. I'll be dedicating this to my moirail, I suppose- seeing as she's had to work quite often recently.

-

"Gamzee?"
Fuck. He was right next to me a few seconds ago, sleeping soundly in his stupid horn pile. Despite the fact that he was slightly better off than before, the clown was still prone to psychotic tendencies, and I'd caught him more than once, lying in a pile of corpses grumbling about how he was going to kill someone. Despite this, he never really wandered off at night- he was content cuddling in the horn pile.
The only other occupant of the pile was cold air and the slight smell of blood and Gamzee. I shoot straight up, in a mixture of terror and concern. Even though he could be off gutting some poor troll, he's still my moirail, and I do worry for the fucker.
"Gog dammit Gamzee! I try to sleep for a couple fucking minutes and you wander off!"
I grumble to myself, deciding to explore the lab for evidence on where the deranged indigo blood could be hiding. My only findings- the eerie shadows that dance in the corners of the ill-begotten room. A sigh brushes past my lips and I run a hand through my hair in frustration.
Instead of silence, however, I can make out a faint shuffling sound.
My breath becomes a little more shallow, panic filling in my chest. A tight knot forms, and I look around wildly for the psycho. I pray with every molecule of my being that he doesn't have his clubs. I pray that he's still my friend, oh God, I hope he's still friendly. One of the shadows shifts, and my eyes plant themselves on the figure in the corner.
"Gamzee, for fuck's sake, dancing around in the darkness is such bullshit, I can't even comprehend why the fuck you'd do that! Stop being an asshole and get back to the pile or so help me I'll-"
Nothing is said, and he doesn't move towards me. His shoulders are shakily rising, in an uneven, disheveled fashion. I move closer, and can see him more clearly.
He's leaning against the wall, knees pulled up against his chest. I can see his hands entangled in his hair, and he's crying- oh God, he's crying. There's indigo running down his face and he's bitten into his lip to stop the sobs. Blood pools where his teeth dig in, and drips down onto his skin. A whine is being emitted from him, and his clenched eyes hint that he doesn't know I'm here.
Quietly, I sit on the ground next to him. I know he needs someone right now, I fucking know it. My hands close around his, and I move them away from his mess of hair- there's blood under his nails and I want to say something, but I don't. Gamzee jumps a little, but when I move closer, he buries his face in my chest. One of my hands touches his hair while the other gently begins to rub his back in smooth, calming circles.
"Gamzee..."
"I'm motherfucking sorry bro, I didn't mean to wake ya..."
"Don't give me that bullshit, what's wrong?"

At first, he doesn't say anything, but then he pulls away and stares at his lap in a battle of emotions- disgust and terror and despair among the many.
"I can't stop thinkin' about them, bro."
"Who?"
"Nepeta. Equius. Tavros. Every gog damned motherfucker that's dead. Some because of me. Motherfucking me."
"Gamz-"
"Don't."
It isn't that his tone is loud, it's more strict and disciplined. His gaze shoots up to meet mine and I'm staring at a tensed up pair of eyes. All joviality is gone and he's just so serious, so fucking serious. I lean forward, and no more words have to be said. He clings to me like I'm his last lifeline, as though I'm the only thing left for him in the world...
-And somehow, I think he believes it.