He never noticed he did it, in the shower he sang and slammed poetry to the beat of the water on his skin, on his own he chatted with him self about anything, commenting on his life as a spectator. His own voice blended into the background of his day to day to the point where silence scared him. Words went with breath and silence meant that he was alone, so he spoke and found camaraderie in himself. His lusus never complained, scarce in the hive to begin with and with its appearance Karkat was distracted anyway, so no one told him this was odd.
He knew it was, of course, but he always brushed it aside, he was the only one around to hear his habit so there was no problem. Those were the words that comforted him whenever the topic crossed his mind and he was content to leave it at that.
Of course there was a problem. When the game started his mind was on other things, there were people to worry about and lead, there was a goal to reach and a reward to be had, he was to busy for a security habit. There was always noise too. Twelve trolls, a death sentence, and a life time supply of drama assured there was hardly a quiet moment, he wasn't alone, he began to think the the problem was gone.
As time ticked down and teammates died, noises became unsettling to, soft honking left him sleepless and muffled laughter sat him on edge, every sound and sudden silence told of death. He resorted to singing himself to sleep in the safety of his clothing pile, the cloth muffled his voice from the world, and the world from him. In dreams he felt soft beats wrap him up in deep voices.
When the humans came things got less scary, they brought with them a sense of calm that Karkat lost long ago, soft noises didn't send him on edge, humming and laughing from the others didn't send him into high alert, but the silence still lingered.
With less people on the meteor and no threat of death hanging immediately over there heads, silence graced the meteors' halls much more often, And the feeling of being utterly alone settles almost permanently in Karkats' gut.
Dave started mixing and Karkat was drawn to it. After many failed attempts, one broken Alchemiter, a temper tantrum, and a resigned trip to a dreamed up version of his old apartment, Dave had finally gotten his hands on a new set of turn tables and was using them to there full potential.
Karkat and the rest of the meteors patrons, along with a generous portion of paradox space, had to suffer through weeks of over enthusiastic gushing and bragging over the god forsaken things from one Dave Strider, and Karkat had developed a unholy level of disdain for the machine. That is, until he heard he the first beats in the silence.
It felt a lot like coming home, like stepping through a door you'd been thinking about all day and rolling up in a pile with someone loved. He took to sitting outside Striders' door and listening to him mix.
He propped himself up by the door with his knees to his chest just listened, hearing the muttered curses, the sudden stops when he messed up, the hums and soft 'yes' when he got something right the first time was almost better then the completed work. The way he could just see the pleased grin on Dave face when he succeeded, how he could imagine it falling into a satisfied smirk as he continued brought a smile to his own face and made him feel warm in a way that was to sentimental for him to acknowledge.
He always made himself scarce before Dave left his respite-block, but he had a feeling that he knew he was there anyway.