Your name is TEREZI PYROPE, and you have wormed yourself into a sticky situation.

Literally.

It was hot, sticking to your body and clothes, and matted throughout your hair. The stench was absolutely horrid, burning your nostrils with a scent so strong it was like a week old slime pie.

On a normal day you would have enjoyed the smell, but everything is better in moderation. In excessive amounts the blood made you sick, you knew this from prior experience with your former Scourge Sister.

It was strange though, this scent absolutely disgusted you.

The scent of your own blood is where the line was drawn.

Each breath drew in another wave of the flames, it choked you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to rid your system of the stench, the ugly rotted blueberry. It made you gag, expelling more of the substance through your mouth, just leaving bitterness behind.

Where were you? What was going on?

You can't remember.

You were with the troll you once knew as your best friend, your sister, a troll you knew you could trust. How silly you used to be!

Vriska went rouge. She thought she could take on Jack by herself.

She had assumed now that she had risen she was invincible; she didn't take into account that she would be leaving a trail, leading Jack straight to the meteor.

You were going to stop her. What was the outcome? Heads or scratch?

You tried to chuckle at your own foolishness—the answer was obvious after all— but all that came from your lips was a gargled moan.

Your sister had betrayed you. You had thought there might have been a bit of Vriska that remembered the days long ago, the days that were filled with adventure, discovery, and dark, sick games. The connection had seemed impenetrable. You and her were attached at the hip.

A chasm now stood in between you and her. Too deep and too wide to be filled.

You missed her company, but you would never return to those days.

You hadn't even had a chance to defend yourself. You now begin to remember the events that occurred after the orange pajamas were out of sight. One second you were alone, the next he was behind you. His warm, rancid breath made your nose scrunch in distaste.

Before you could even raise your cane you found yourself unable to move, the signals from your thinkpan not quite reaching the rest of your body. You could not register the origin of the screaming, was it you, or somebody else?

You could feel the removal of his stained sword slightly, the steel leaving a dull burning behind.

You hadn't considered the option of a third player before.

It was faint, but every second it grew larger, a foreign scent, too weak to be immediately noticed over your own blood.

You could recognize the scent anywhere. You grew up with it covering the walls of your hive, and you've been sitting next to a cherry scented troll recently. You were used to the scent and taste. It had comforted you countless times, both the drawings on your walls and Mr. Grumpy Horns himself.

You could smell him clearer now. This wasn't just a simple blush, it was completely too strong. You were able to tell when the blood rushed to his cheeks when you would tease him, it's how you discovered why he was so secretive about something as trivial about blood color, as if the caste system still applied around his close friends. Karkat Vantas was always on guard.

But this time it appeared there was a hole in his barrier.

Your head began to pound; your entire body throbbed to the beat of your blood pumper. The numbness was still there. An indescribable pain came from your chest. It made it so hard to breathe; you were panting and gasping, struggling against an unknown force, as if there was a sock shoved down your windpipe.

You were no idiot. You knew you were dying.

But was he?

You fought against the pain, dislodging the imaginary object from your throat. Speaking had never been so hard.

"Karkat?"

No matter how hard you pushed, your words only came out as soft as a sigh, hardly able to be heard through your hysterics. You weren't aware that you were blubbering like a newborn grub.

He was closer then you thought. The raspy voice came from directly above you.

"Terezi? Terezi, stop crying, you're going to be fine. It's just a scratch!" Karkat tried to reassure you, but it sounded more as if he was trying to comfort himself.

The pressure on your chest was him, you now realized. His hand was rough, pushing down on your wound in an attempt to stop the blood from pouring out of your chest.

He was wounded, too. You could feel his exact presence; smell every outline of his body.

A picture formed in your head of what you thought he looked like. You knew he was taller than you, with unkempt dark locks and tiny horns. You couldn't place details though, and since you were blinded you had never wanted anything more than to have your sight returned to you, just so the last thing you ever saw was Karkat, and not just the dumb sun.

Karkat was hunched over you. You could hear his once delicious blood drip from the wet fabric of his shirt, and feel it hit you below.

What hurt more? The fatal stab wound or knowing it's your fault Karkat was in this situation in the first place?

Definitely the latter.

"Karkat, I'm sor-ry. My fault. I-s could have stopped-d her. I didn't. I'm so so s-sorry" The words did not string together how you intended. You can't remember ever apologizing like this.

Was he crying too? Did he know how this was going to end for him? Or was he grieving for you?

His voice was quieter than usual, his energy was also drained, "Shut up, you couldn't have stopped her. It's her fault, not yours." You could hear the grimace in his tone

But your words and his forgiveness would not save you both.

He continued talking. You should have known he would. Your fearless leader never missed the chance to talk someone's ear off.

His words almost soothed your distraught spirit, but your mind was full of fear.

Uncertainty was the only thing in your future. What happened after death? You were never religious, you had no book to go off of. Was all that waited for you eternal blackness? An endless field with flowers that held everything and everyone you cared for?

Would Jack slaughter everyone?

You didn't want to die. You wanted to remain with your friends forever. A perfect world where nothing changed, nobody aged, nobody died, and everyone was forever happy. But all that waited for you now was empty darkness, an eternity to remember everything you've ever done wrong.

You feared being alone.

You were absolutely terrified of it.

Karkat was getting further away with every word. Each syllable was fuzzy and difficult to make out, you couldn't understand him. He was too far down the tunnel.

Exhaustion was tugging at the back of your eyes, the numbness lulling you to sleep.

You didn't want to. Karkat had forbidden anyone from sleeping; he wanted to keep everyone from the nightmares.

You think you smiled a bit. He did everything in his power to keep everyone from harm, and he no doubt blamed himself for their team falling apart. Even while he himself was bleeding to death he still focused on keeping you breathing, and trying to keep your mind anywhere but the matter at hand. Was he talking about his husktop? It sounded more like his quadrants now, what was he saying?

Your mind lazily drifted to your first pesterlog. Sollux had introduced you two, and after one minute Karkat had declared how much he regretted agreeing to the whole shebang and telling you to never contact him again.

But of course, you didn't listen. Countless pesterlogs later he was one of your closest friends. You knew you could talk to him if you were worried, and confident that you could calm him down after one of his outbursts. You learned how to read him like an open book.

When you first met in person on the Land of Thought and Flow, he seemed just as you had imagined him. Grumpy, loud, and short. He had your back and you had his. A perfect team.

There were times when he was very careful, treating you as if you were some delicate flower, not a battle hardened psychopath. His words were sweet, though spoken harshly. They held a deep meaning. Conversations about life, relationships, and movies. You flirted, he countered with a witty insult he never meant.

You would miss it.

Encased in the warmth of his embrace, your eyes fluttered shut.

You felt as light as a feather, drifting alone through the wind.

Deep inside your core, a small spark had ignited, the warmth heating you from toe to horn. The feeling wasn't unknown, just never felt at such high levels. It wasn't pain. No, the pain was long gone, replaced by weightlessness. The fire burning within you was kind, careful, happy, and full of lust. You could only describe it with one word, as the darkness consumed you, and you felt no more.

Red.

.:.:.:.

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and your sun was gone.

Her last breath came while in your arms, while confessing your love to her, a human emotion you previously thought impossible to feel. No other word could describe it. You felt no pity for Terezi Pyrope, just love.

And now she was gone, and your universe was dark.

You weren't much further behind her, you could tell.

She had been whispering in her last moments. She was scared and there was no way you could protect her anymore. If you had arrived on the rooftop sooner you could have saved her, you knew it. If you had been faster she wouldn't be growing colder by the second.

Did she recuperate your feelings? Was that unintelligible word possibly "red"?

Probably not.

You felt empty.

You removed your hand from your stomach, where it had been to stop the bleeding. What was the point now after all? You had failed your team. Your incompetence had resulted in many deaths. You could have done so much better.

You sank down onto Terezi, nuzzling your nose into her sticky hair and resting her head in your neck. No more harm would come to her as long as you held her in your arms. You could never let go, you owed her that much.

A voice was coaxing you into the dark. Beckoning for you to follow it, that there would be no more pain, only happiness in the afterlife. It reassured you. Your friends were waiting for you. Your sun was waiting.

You gladly sank into the black. You did not resurface.