Non-explicit self-harm, possible accidental dub-con (If you have concerns about the details, the most non-spoilery I can get is this: In a heated makeout session, character A accidentally misinterprets B's non-verbal cues. When asked to stop he promptly does, but character B is kind of freaking out during.)

This is my submission for asexual awareness week! Technically it's supposed to start tomorrow, but whatever. I usually update on Sundays and this is close enough. Also, if you have any questions about asexuality, feel free to ask because that's what this week is about! I consider myself asexual and the experiences in this fic are based upon my own

So I realized writing this that I'm probably basing the setting a little too heavily on my own university which is in the completely wrong part of the US. Ah well.

It really started the day that Karkat took me to the big gay box. (Apparently that's what everyone called it. It's really called the SFQR box, and it's the room where all of the LGBT groups meet). I wasn't quite sure what to think, but I wanted to meet the friends he still had (more like, make sure that he still had friends now that the rest of the trolls were gone, but I didn't word it like that to his face).

"I got involved this shit last year," he explained as he led me up the stairs to the second floor of the union. "Kanaya was super into it and dragged me along, but since I'm still bi I fit right in. Besides, it looks really good on a resume."

"Will they be okay with me then?"

"Yeah. Plenty of the people who hang out are allies anyway."

"Right." I looked at the cheap plastic railing.

"John, you will be fucking fine. It's not even like this is a meeting, we're just hanging out."

I sighed. "Okay, Karkat. If you're sure."

He huffed. "Fuck, you were the one who asked to come."

My only reply was a shrug.

As it turned out he was right. About everything. Everyone hanging out there was really nice, and they actually seemed to understand my and Karkat's friend-dating arrangement. The room was warm and brightly lit. They had lots of really comfortable chairs and couches, all upholstered in an adorably ugly orange fabric that you'd expect from the university. There was color everywhere, and a truly ridiculous amount of flags covered the walls. So many fucking flags. They all kind of blended in to become a background of one giant patchwork rainbow. Everything was oranges and blues and pinks, but then there was a big old flag that was black, gray, and white with just one stripe of purple directly opposite me. That was the one that caught my eye. I couldn't stop looking at it and wondering what it was for, but I didn't want to sound stupid so I didn't say anything.

Actually, I was quiet almost the whole time. Sometimes the conversation would brush on stuff I was into, but mostly I just sat there next to Karkat, watching him smile and bob around animatedly. It was his place, not mine, no matter how much they tried to include me.

On the way out I saw a pamphlet with the same flag on it near the door and using some of my super magician slight of hand I grabbed it on the way out.

"So," Karkat said once we were walking alone, "what did you think?"

"They were all really nice, but it was really kind of awkward! Mostly because I didn't know anyone."

"Yeah, I can see that. Are you fucking satisfied now, though?"

"Yep!"

He smiled softly and I realized his face had turned kind of pinkish. It was getting kind of late, so it was getting kind of cold, and I didn't know if it was that or if he was blushing. With him they were equally likely. I reached out and took one of his icy hands in mine.

"Jesus, Karkat, you're so cold! Why didn't you bring a sweatshirt?"

He shrugged. "It was warmer this morning."

"Yeah, okay. I'll give you that."

He stared down at our hands and rubbed the back of mine gently and it was quiet except for distant chatter of other people and the passing of the occasional car.

We'd long gotten to the point of our relationship where sometimes there was just nothing left to say so we'd just sit together and it was all peaceful and nice. I liked those times. But then there were silences where there was a lot more to say. Whoever was having trouble spitting something out would squirm and fidget and look down and the other one had to sit there and wait for him to say something to clue him in. I hated those times as much as I liked the others, and they'd been happening more and more frequently lately. It was always Karkat that had something to say, too, and I wished he would come out and tell me.

"Do you ever think about… us?" he finally said, so soft I could barely hear him over the cold October wind.

I swallowed. H-he wasn't breaking up with me, was he? Fuck, what had I done to piss him off? Or maybe it wasn't a pissed off thing. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he'd realized that without sburb I really wasn't that interesting. But I was too scared to ask.

So instead I just said, "Yeah. Sometimes."

"And when you do, what do you think?" he asked.

Shit. Fuck. And he was looking down, and between his shaggy hair and his turtleneck I couldn't see his face. I should have insisted on him getting that fucking haircut last week. "I-I really like you?"

"That was a question."

I pulled my hand away to rub my eye. "Look, Karkat, just fucking tell me what you're thinking!"

He flinched. "Maybe another-"

"No!" I grabbed his shoulders. If he really was going to leave I wasn't going to let him string me along anymore. "Not again. You've been skirting around this thing for weeks now. Karkat, if you're not happy just fucking say so!"

"John…" He looked up at me, eyes wide open. Then he slowly relaxed. "No, John, it's not that. I really like you too. It's just-" His eyes darted to the side. "I'm not a troll anymore."

I let go and took a step away. "I get it."

"You do?" He looked so fucking happy. Fuck, just tear out my heard and stomp on it, will you?

"Yeah," I said. I felt like I was gonna puke. "If you want your own bed and to stop kissing me, I guess it's okay. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"What? No! That's not what I meant!"

"Then what-?"

"John, I just, I- I-" Suddenly, his eyes glinted with determination. He stepped forward and yanked me down for a kiss. I started kissing back until I felt tears land on my face. I pulled away and gently wiped them off his cheek.

"I think I human love you," he finally said.

I swallowed and looked at him. He was so small, so pitiable, so vulnerable… What else could I say? I wrapped my arms around him. "I think I human love you too."

He full-on burst out into tears. I patted him awkwardly on the back and brought him home.

"Well," I thought, "at least now it'll be easier to explain our thing to people."

Then things went back to how they were before the fidgeting and awkwardness. We sat side by side, pressed together as we poured over our books, or did dumb shit on the internet, or watched movies and argued about the quality of every single one.

Sometimes, especially when it was getting late and I was starting to feel tired, I would think about getting married someday. I didn't dare say anything out loud, though, because we were way too young for that kind of shit. It was legal in Washington now and even if it wasn't I wouldn't have cared. We could have it all, all of that shit I'd wanted since I don't even know when. We could get that two-story house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a tire swing in front. Then we could adopt a kid or two and raise them to be awesome pranksters and appreciate fine cinema and maybe even they could learn how to not suck at programming. And we'd do gross married couple stuff in public until we got old enough for everyone to think it was cute again. I wondered what it would be like to wake up next to him every day, seeing the lines on his face get darker and thicker and his hair get lighter and thinner but have his eyes stay bright and his arms stay warm.

Now and then I had dreams where that actually happened. When I did I usually woke up tangled in him and it was so great because I was sleepy and in love and I knew there was nowhere I'd rather be.

I was so happy thinking about that stuff it took me a while to notice things changing. When we sat together his hands slowly started landing higher and higher on my thighs. Sometimes when we kissed he'd nip at my lower lip a little more than affectionately. When I finally did notice all I just thought it was kind of weird. I always got this bizarre confusing bubbly feeling in my stomach. It kind of made me feel nauseous, but the love in the touches was enough to keep me wanting more.

Then one day he slid his palm up so far his pinky was against my hip and then he started to rub. The bubbly feeling came back, but this time it was worse. Even with him pressed against me I felt a chill.

"K-Karkat? What are you doing?"

He paused but didn't move his hand. "Touching you? Am I- is this too fast?"

"A little. Just…" I placed my hand on top of his and slid it back down so that it was almost on my knee.

"S-sorry." He blushed and looked away.

"It's okay," I said. My stomach had gone back to normal and Karkat felt warm again. I closed my eyes and leaned against him.

"I don't mind waiting," he said softly. "You're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me. I don't wanna fuck it up."

I put my arm around his shoulders and squeezed him gently. "You too, man."

He was good on his word and started going a lot slower, which was good because it gave me time to adjust. I still got the bubbly feeling, but it was weaker and after a few times doing one thing it went away. It got easier to adjust until all I could feel was the warmth and affection behind the touches. I even returned them. I slipped my tongue into his wet, slimy mouth and ran my hands up his thigh and he was so fucking happy that I didn't stop.

But then I fucked it up. We were in the shower together and then I actually decided I wanted to start necking. The hickeys on his shoulders were starting to fade, and I liked seeing the little reminders that he picked me. I pulled him close and latched right on top of an old one.

Karkat must have been feeling confident that day, because he growled softly and took over. I didn't realize he was pushing me backwards until I was against the wall and had one of his legs between mine. That was as far as we'd gotten and I was still working on it. The bubbles were back, and all the worse because we were naked. Karkat was nibbling at my collarbone, his strong fingers spread over my chest. It was probably to feel my erratic heartbeat because he's corny like that but all I could think of was pushing me back. I stood stiffly except for the occasional shudder.

I grit my teeth. "It's okay, John," I thought, "It's okay. You've done this before. You've mutually come from this before. It's okay!"

But we weren't naked before. We weren't naked, and we weren't wet, and I wasn't pressed against a slippery wall. It was just Karkat, just Karkat. He was my boyfriend, I had to stop freaking out. And then his hand started drifting lower. His fingertips slipped below my bellybutton and then it was all sorts of not okay.

"Stop!"

Karkat pulled away so fast that he slipped and fell. He managed not to hit his head, but just barely. He lay on the tub floor, looking up at me in utter terror. His eyes were blown wide and pupils dilated. I opened and closed my mouth a few times. I needed to explain, to apologize, to tell him it was my fault, but nothing came out.

I couldn't stay there. Without thinking I ran. My heart was pounding. I felt even sicker. The world was squished swaths of color and I needed clothes and blankets.

Pulling on clean pajamas and a fuzzy sweatshirt made me feel a little better. I sat on the bed and breathed deeply. Fuck. This was Karkat. He was my boyfriend, my everything. Didn't I fucking trust him? I curled in on myself, burying my face in my hands and curling up into a little ball. The panic faded, my breathing and heart rate slowed. After that I just felt like a pathetic asshole.

There was a soft knock, even though the door was open.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"We need to talk."

"Don't worry. It's nothing."

He stepped into the room. "John, you freaked the fuck out and bolted out of the bathroom. When I finally fucking bothered to look at your face, which I should have been doing the whole fucking time, you were crying. It is not nothing!"

"I'm sorry, Karkat."

"No! You're not supposed to be- Shit, I'm doing this wrong. I can't even fucking-" He sighed and sat next to me. "Can I hug you?"

I looked up. He'd been crying too. "Yeah? Do you even have to ask?"

He wrapped his arms around me. "I fucking should after that. I'm sorry. I'm absolute shit."

"No you're not."

"I am. I should have been looking, I should have noticed-"

"Karkat, I told you it's not a big deal."

He let go of me and stared down at his hands. "I fucking molested you!"

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't want-"

"I wanted to make you happy," I said honestly.

"Well I'm not! You're not supposed to do things you don't want to! That's not how it works."

"I've been fine with it up until now!"

His eyes were on me again. It was that same wide terrified expression he'd had in the shower. "W-what do you mean 'until now'?"

This time I hugged him. "Okay, please, please, please don't take this the wrong way. After a certain point, when stuff starts getting more sexual, it starts feeling not so good. But once we do it a few times the weird feeling goes away and I start liking it!"

He pushed me away. "S-so this whole fucking time?"

"Uh… I guess so…"

"Jesus fuck, John…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I-I-" Fuck, what was there even to say to that? "You know what? You probably want some time alone now, right? You know how you've been telling me to get milk for days? I'm gonna run to the gas station really quick, okay? When I get back we can talk!"

"O-okay. But John?"

"Yeah?"

"If you weren't interested in me like that, why didn't you just say so?"

"Karkat…" I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how much he'd want. I finally settled with kissing his forehead. "I wasn't lying. I really like you. It's just- Fuck, I don't even know."

"Maybe you need to think too."

"Maybe."

I turned and left.

Even if they were designated PJ's, sweatpants and a t-shirt were good enough to run to the corner. I didn't care that peeps are supposed to respect themselves when they leave the house. It was fairly warm the last time I checked, so I walked out the door without a jacket, barely remembering to grab my keys.

By the time I actually got outside, though, the cold front must have come through. For a moment I thought I should turn back. Then I remembered Karkat.

Well, the gas station wasn't that far. I stuffed my hands in my hoody's pocket to keep them warm and- wait, what was in there?

I pulled out a crumpled pamphlet with an almost colorless flag on it. Fuck, I'd completely forgotten about it. But it was too cold outside to worry about it then, so I started heading to get the milk.

The store was nothing much to mention. It was pretty bright and clean, which was nice, and full of all sorts of junk food, which was also nice. The only issue was everything was overpriced as fuck, but if it meant not driving down bar row at 10pm on a Saturday night, it was worth it. Apparently everyone in the area had the same idea, because there was an outrageously long line. At the front an old lady was arguing with the cashier about the price of cigarettes. This was going to take forever. With a sigh, I reached into my pocket to text Dave, only to realize that I'd left my phone charging in the bedroom. I groaned. Could this night get any better?

At least I had my pamphlet to read. I pulled it out again, smoothing the rumpled shiny paper as well as I could. Beneath the flag in big black letters it said "Asexuality 101." So that's what the flag was. I'd never heard of it before outside of a biology class, but I had the feeling it had nothing to do with sponges. I looked up to see how much time I had. The old woman in the front of the line was ranting at the guy behind the counter about something.

"Might as well dig in," I thought.

"What is Asexuality?

"Most simply, it refers to a general lack of sexual attraction. However, it is not as cut and dry as it may appear. Asexuality is a spectrum in and of itself, and asexuals may have romantic relationships, and some individuals will experience attractions and arousal, though they are not always the same as those felt by sexual individuals. Many asexuals are romantic, many are aromantic. This means that they can desire romantic relationships or not. Asexuality is a broad term, and different types will be given more nuanced definitions later in this pamphlet.

"Unlike celibacy, which is a choice, asexuality is an orientation, like hetero-, homo-, and bisexuality. There is no litmus test to define someone as asexual or not, it is simply a word that individuals may choose to use to identify themselves."

I kept reading and reading and suddenly everything made sense. I put the milk back in the fridge and ran back home. The old woman was just now getting out her checkbook and I wanted to talk to Karkat.

With the pamphlet tightly clenched in my hand I literally sprinted the block and a half to the apartment and up the stairs. I was panting heavily and so excited that it took a few tries to get my key back into the lock.

When I finally got it open I threw the door open and shouted, "Karkat! I'm back! I have some good news!"

There was a muffled string of curses from the bedroom followed by some loud thumps. I locked the front door again and followed the noises. What was he doing in there? I opened the door.

"Fuck," I said, dropping the pamphlet. "Oh, Karkat."

"I'm sorry," he said. He dropped the shirt he'd been trying to tie around his bleeding arm.

"No. You're not supposed to be sorry for this. I've told you that."

"I know, I just-"

"It's okay, just come here. I'll get you cleaned up."

He stood and took my outstretched hand. I led him to the bathroom and grabbed a clean washcloth. Wetting the cloth, I motioned for him to sit. He held out his arm and let me start cleaning the cuts.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"You don't have to do this," I said gently back. "We talked about that."

"I know. It's just- I felt so gross and fucked up and when my mind starts racing like that I can't handle it and I need something and I-"

"Sssh." I pressed my forehead against his. "Don't freak out. Don't go all manic on me. I'm taking care of you, remember? Shooshpaps with added fun of Bactine and band-aids."

"Right. God, I keep fucking everything up tonight."

"Shit happens. And I fucked up too."

"How? I pushed you. I should never have pushed you."

"These are shallower than the last time."

"I didn't want to do too much. I felt bad enough as it was."

"Is it just here?"

"Yeah. And I was just about done when you came in."

I smiled a little bit at that. "You're getting better."

"I'm trying."

He rummaged through the medicine cabinet with his free hand and grabbed the band-aids for me. I covered his cuts and pulled his shirt sleeve back down to cover them.

"Now come on," I said. "Bed."

With a nod, he obediently followed me back to the bedroom. When I stopped to pick up the pamphlet he passed me and slipped under his side of the covers. I slid in next to him, handed him the piece of paper and then wrapped my hands around his waist.

"John? What are you-?"

"Read."

"Okay." He opened and started reading through it. "I've seen this before, though."

"Yeah, well. Just give it another look. For me."

"I will."

It was quiet for a few minutes as he read, but this was closer to the comfortable kind. Eventually one of his hands drifted down to stroke mine and I held him a little tighter, smiling into his hair.

"So," he finally said. "This is you, huh?"

"Yeah. So if you wanna get technical right now I think I'm asexual biromantic. Not sure, though. I should probably think about it more."

He gently pulled out of my arms so he could turn around and face me. "What's going through your head? Talk. Please."

"Okay, um, I didn't really get a chance to think this all the way through before and stuff so this might be a little messy?"

"That's okay. Just please, John, tell me what you're thinking."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"This is kind of dumb," I said, smiling. He smiled back and like that the tension was gone. I slid my hands down his back and started to talk. "Oka- goddammit. Karkat, I really like you. And I want this to work more than anything. You make me so happy, you have no idea. The only reason I'm using like instead of love is that I need to think about this whole asexuality thing a lot more, but whatever there is between you and me it's special. And I really like kissing you and hugging you and everything but I-" I swallowed. "I don't want to have sex with you.

"And don't take that to mean you're not attractive! I think you're really pretty, Karkat! I like your hair and your eyes and your whole face and your body and especially what you've got inside. When I look at you it's like… It's like… Like being at the Grand Canyon or anywhere else gorgeous in nature. You want to look at it all day, maybe even reach out and touch, but it doesn't translate to 'I wanna put my dick in it.' Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "Do you really think I'm-" He had trouble getting the word out. "Pretty?"

"Yeah, Karkat. I really do. I think it's the aesthetic attraction they talk about in there? I don't know. But you're great. You're not perfect, but you're perfect for me. And all I want is to make you happy."

"John, you don't owe me anything."

"I know. Don't think of it like that. Think of it like… you hate action movies, right?"

He snorted, "Yeah, but I don't see how-"

"But you still watch them with me. Because it makes me happy and you like that it makes me happy and you wanna be there."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I feel that way about your shitty romcoms. And I feel that way about this kind of thing. You're not forcing me. I don't owe it to you. I want to take care of you. That's why I've been okay with what happened up until now."

"John-"

"I'm not done," I said, pressing a finger to his lips. "And I think that the issue might be me being naked? I might be okay with it at some point because I have masturbated and liked it, which is part of why I didn't figure this out before. I've never minded touching you, it's just when you touch me sometimes I get this weird feeling that I don't like. Sometimes it's okay, but it was just a little too much this time, I think. But, you know, if you want a hand or blow job I could probably help you out."

"I don't know if I'd be comfortable taking advantage of you like that."

I groaned. "It's not taking advantage! I want to. But you can take as long as you want to believe me. And I would be totally cool with it if you never do. Want to do it, I mean. Not about believing me. Please believe me."

He worried his lip between his teeth for a moment. "How long do you think it will be until you're okay?"

"Karkat, I told you. I'm fine. The feeling goes away quickly. It's not like I feel defiled or anything. And if you're worried about that, next time we experiment you can let me lead, okay? Because I'm sure as fuck not going to do anything I'm not okay with. Deal?"

"Deal." He grinned and held me tightly.

We were quiet for a moment, but it was a good one this time. We touched and kissed each other's necks and faces and hands. I couldn't stop smiling and it looked like Karkat couldn't either. When we pulled apart to look at each other, though, something crossed Karkat's mind and the fear was back in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"John, I know that it said it's not usually the case but I still need to ask. No one… no one hurt you did they?"

"No. Nothing ever happened. I think I've always just been like this. We'll work it out. Sometimes my brain just does weird stuff. You're not giving me flashbacks."

He nodded and I took the chance to kiss him. Hopefully that kind of thing would help convince him that I really was okay.

"Do you think it'll work?" he asked when I pulled away. "A lot of times I've heard this kind of thing doesn't."

"Karkat, a lot of most kinds of relationships don't work out. It's worth trying, though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he breathed, running his fingers through my hair. "It really is."