Shangri la- Welcome to the Dark Carnival

I watched the mirror as I applied the grease base face paint, but I wasn't watching my reflection. I was watching his. He was watching me, my every move, his gray eyes wide and child like, like they normally are when he's amused or scared. I can't blame him for being scared. I just culled Terezi yesterday when I took him and chained him up.

Cautiously I walked over and papped his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the palm of my hand, not wanting to be papped, but still be soothed. I rubbed my thumb over my ex-moirail's cheek, then his jaw, and last his lips. He kissed the stubby digit. I sighed. He didn't try to pull away from me. He didn't hate me.

I crawled into his lap and he nuzzled me, as though trying to comfort me. Like he could erase the images of my three murders from my rotted thinkpan. I straddled his thighs and let him. The soft tender touches the most comfort I've had since we separated. I burried my face into his soft black shirt and he rested his head on mine, being careful of my horns. I kissed the bottom of his chin.

We didn't stay like that for long before I walked away. Again he watched me in fear. I hated the fear on his face. Miracles should never be afraid. And he was the only miracle there was now. I'm not sure if there ever where any others, but I'm positive there will never be more. I run my fingers through his black hair. It's matted and dirty. We could all use a shower, but Dave's having trouble getting them to work again. I keep it up and eventually he's purring, eyes closed and soul pacified. Still petting him, I crawl in his lap again. I press our lips together and he stilled.

I've always wanted to be more than moirails. I believe he didn't want to even be that. It was never talked about, never planed. Just a last minute way to stop the murders. To stop the rage.

Slowly he started to kiss back. I licked at his lips, but he tried pulling away. I didn't let him. He didn't have that right anymore. I culled Terezi to be with him. He tried again. I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked hard.

He whimpered and, realizing he would not open his mouth, I pulled away. Intently he held me with his legs and took a few deep breaths. I kissed him again and didn't even get the chance to ask permission to enter his mouth before he had it open in invitation. When he parted he was still confused.

I just looked at him, his painted smile contradicting his frown. We both had made ways to show we have an unbreakable bond, even if we weren't moirails. It was the news of the meteor for a week when it happened. 'Karkat's wearing Gamzee's face paint' this and 'Gamzee stole Karkat's sickles and carved 'KaRkAt' above his blood pusher' that. Everyone thought I was stupid, insane, or both when I did it. They whispered about it in the halls. He never thought so and was always there to give me the assurance I needed.

But I couldn't be sure I had him anymore. His eyes still held fear and confusion. He didn't need to live in fear. He didn't need to live in confusion. He didn't need to live with all the shit that's been happening. He didn't need to live without the people he loved. The people who died.

"It's not your fault." I didn't want him to think it was. "I'm sorry."

"I know." He mumbled. "My turn to join the 'wicked pictures'?"

So he understood. He knew. "We'll meet again in Shangri La."

He nodded. I scooted back on his lap and lifted his shirt. He was well toned. Muscles hidden by flat stomach. Chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. I swallowed and kissed him firmly, licking his lips. Again he let me dominate the kiss without a fight.

He screamed as I thrust my sickle into my own name. Dark purple fell from the wound and drizzled down his chest, the warm sticky liquid covering my hands. He died instantly and I broke the kiss. I removed my sickle and left.