This was the third time that day in your count. The third time that day your parents got into a loud yelling match, and this one seemed to be the worst. They were in the living room, yelling at the top of their lungs and cursing at each other, each word screamed filled with venom. Even with your bedroom door shut you could still hear every word coming from downstairs.
You door opens and there stands your little brother. He looks just as upset as you feel.
"This is the third time," he says.
"I know." You two stay in silence as you just listen to the still heated argument continue. Things seemed to be turning for the worse when you two begin to hear the threats of one of them leaving. That's when Eridan finally joins you in your room and sits on your bed, hugging his knees. You turn around in your desk chair and look at him. You see the translucent violet tears falling down his face, it almost makes you cry but you know you have to be strong for him.
"Kar," Eridan speaks again. "You don't think Papa or Daddy's really gonna leawe do you?" He lifts his glasses and wipes his eyes. You look away. You can't promise him anything because you're scared that one of them is gonna leave too, and that you might not ever see one of them again.
"I don't know Eridan." You manage.
You want to throw up. You can't stand this arguing stuff anymore. It always bothers you that after they have their little angry spouts, they avoid each other, and then when they talk to you or your brother, they pretend nothing ever happened.
The slamming of doors snaps you out of your train of thought. You look to Eridan who is full out crying into a pillow on your bed. You stand and walk over to your bedroom door and open it. It's quiet. To quiet. Did they leave? You walk down the stairs silent as possible and look in the living room. Your Papa is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands shaking.
You scan the room to look for your Dad but it seems he's not here. You make you way over to Papa and place a hand on his shoulder. He jumps and looks at you. He's crying. Red tears are flowing and they seem to have no end.
"Karkat," He sighs. You want to ask him where Daddy went but he's already so upset.
"Papa, Eridan and I are hungry." You lie. Your appetite is gone and who knows if your brother is hungry or not.
"O-Oh, I'm sorry dinner's been ready. Wash your hands and get your brother." Papa stands and takes a shuddery breath before kissing your forehead and disappearing into the kitchen. There it is. The same "I-totally wasn't-just-in-an-argument-with-my-supposed-to-be-matesprit-which-the-whole-neighborhood-might-have-heard-now-he's-gone-to-God-knows-where-and-I-wasn't-just-on-the-couch-crying-about-it-everything-is-just-fine" attitude.
You're tired of these arguments. This may be the third time today but it's been happening all week and you're tired of it. As you go upstairs to retrieve your probably still crying brother, every step you take still reminds you how much the situation makes you want to throw up.