It has been ten years since Dave Striders home planet has been destroyed, and only two since it has been rebuilt. Though it took Dave and his friends several years to rebuild a world, to create rain and wind and sun and stars all over again on Earth, they did it. They worked together and accomplished it, and now you find yourself on the same rock that Dave once lived a normal teenage life on.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
The steady beating of rain against cement in the repulsive Texas heat happens to be the only thing keeping the red eyed human beside you sane. The rhythm of the rain drops soothe Dave, because it reminds him of calm nights where he would fall asleep to the rain and not fear his life would be taken in his sleep. He is shuddering in your arms, and you are almost scared to look up at him and see the grief upon his face. You know exactly what he is going through, and you pity him more than you care to admit.
You know what it is like to watch your friends die before you, because of you. You know how sharply every emotion cuts, how much every dying breath of a companion matters when you know you're alone. You've known the anger of a thousand men, and you've known pain that most have not. Watching Dave Strider go through the same thing is one of the most agonizing things that has ever happened to you. You do nothing but hold him as he trembles in your arms.
He shakes, and you can feel every negative emotion roll off of him like electricity and cloud you with an air of sorrow. But he is not crying. However slowly but surely, he is starting to let out a scream. Though he is not crying, you are. To watch your friend scream out of raw emotional pain that seers through your body like a blade is both nerve-wracking and heart wrenching. You pull him closer to your chest and you whisper to him, you try to get him to stop his screaming because you know that no one will hear it but you.
He is so frightened and alone, like a lost child among a crowd of corpses. He thinks it's his fault, but you know it wasn't. It had to happen. When you, Dave, Rose, John and Jade (your friends had all traveled to separate universes) had managed to recreate the Earth, you said your final goodbyes to each other.
You went off to start your own families. John went with Rose, and Jade decided to live a single life with gardening and solitude. You and Dave lived together as friends. You talked over pesterchum with the humans, as did Dave; you always kept in touch no matter what. But one day, they stopped replying. For months, Dave tried to get a hold of them. After a year and a half, Dave gave up. They were either ignoring him, or dead. While Dave insisted that they no longer found his irony endearing and had discarded his friendship, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they wouldn't do that.
He knew that somehow they had died, or been killed. Yet in fear, in cowardice, not knowing where on Earth they may have been killed, not knowing where his friends may have died, he did not look for them. And as you lay together that night, his self-loathing had finally gotten to his head.
You comforted him. You said what you could, you whispered soothing words into his ear, but most importantly you repeated a mantra that you so often repeated over and over to yourself. "Dave, I know we're the only air suckers left on this rock who have the gall to keep living, but you have to remember that's a damn good reason to keep your shit together. We have to stay sane, because we're all we've got Dave. We've got nothing else, and we don't need anything else. I've got you, Dave, it is okay."
You repeat it until his screaming has quieted. You fear that he may have died, given himself a heart attack or something. But then a miracle happens. Not the kind of miracle where your friends come back to life, not a miracle where everything is fine, but a true miracle that could represent a new pinpoint in life. For the first time in two years, Dave Strider begins to cry.
At first, you don't know what to do, or to say. You just hold him in total shock as tears stream down his freckled face. You cry with him, and hold him, and god, you just love him so much. You don't know what you'd do without him, actually. But he's crying. He's finally letting out every sorrowful thought he's ever had in the form of tears and you're so happy for him. You kiss him softly and when you pull away, his tears begin to halt. Neither of you speak, because the warmth of your embrace and the softness of his touch tell a story that could never be told by spoken word.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and in the repulsive Texas heat, you realize that you will be okay.