"It's only a few months, trust me, I'll call every night." Were words that echoed through his mind. That, along with the intruding sound of the heart monitor which beeped at his pulse. He laid in the hospital bed, having been stuck there for 2 months now. He could feel his eyes burning, tears already forming once again, as if he hadn't already spent numerous amounts of hours crying last night. His name is Karkat Vantas, and a month after his matesprit, Gamzee Makara, left to fight in war, Karkat had gotten cancer. His head was wrapped in bandages, not wanting anyone, not even himself, to see what a horrid sight laid underneath without his black hair.
He shakily reached over to the bedside, trying to see through his blurry vision caused by the tears. He gripped the frame of a picture, slowly bringing it back to him as he stared over it, just able to make out the image in which he never forgot about. In the image, there he and Gamzee stood. Both had their eyes closed, leaned up close to each other as their heads were tilted some, landing a passionate kiss on each others lips. Gamzee's face was actually rid of the clown make-up as both wore tuxedo's, their hand in each others with their fingers intertwined.
Karkat remember each feeling. The warmth of their hands together, the tingling as their fingers intertwined, the fuzzy feeling of the kiss, every little detail. Yes, it was their wedding picture, taken only three years ago. Karkat felt tears tricking down his chin now, resting the photo back down on the bedside to wipe his eyes with the back of his palm. "Fuckass..." He muttered underneath his breath, "You're not dead yet, why haven't you called..." He muttered to himself, wishing he could say the words to Gamzee.
He knew "every night" would've been too much to ask for, but not even the night he left seemed ridiculous. He felt rage boil in his veins each time he realized how long it'd been since he last heard his lover's voice, yet all he could do was sit there and cry about it. And that's exactly what he did. There was no point in fighting the tears, they always crept out one way or another. He wished he could scream.
At Gamzee. At himself. At someone. at something; Anything. But all he could do was sit there and cry about it.
If he screamed he'd get in trouble for disturbing the other patients, and he couldn't allow that to happen again. He cursed to himself, now clenching his raging stomach and was hunched over. Tears flowed down his cheeks, only remembering each moment he shared with Gamzee. He then got his mind onto what could happen in the military, in the crowded rooms with so many other trolls. The thoughts drove him insane.
He thought about Gamzee's voice in another troll's ear, his hand roaming in areas in which he swore up and down to have only touched Karkat and himself in. He clenched his eyes shut, the image of his indigo blooded lover pounding into a troll who's blood was at least on the hemospectrum. It was then, he snapped. He let out a piercing scream, agony and rage mixed into it as the red tinted tears poured down his cheeks to stain the sheets below. Nurses ran in, two of the three grabbing his arms to pin him against the bed while the third grabbed a syringe and pushed it into Karkat's arm.
Slowly, the screams grew fainter, until Karkat's eyes lidded shut and he fell into a deep sleep. Again and again, this process continued on for five more months. Crying, screaming, needles, therapy, and occasionally there were things breaking. Even his treasured picture of him and Gamzee. Within the third month, he had set the picture on fire, controlled by his sorrow and anger, and watched it burn on his bedside until nurses rushed in to stop the fire, and ended up throwing it away.
Now, nothing was left to remember his matesprit by, except the young troll's memory. Today was his and Gamzee's 4 year anniversary. Yet, today was also a dreadful day. The monitor screeched, no pulse showing on the screen. On that day, Karkat lost his fight, lost to his struggling, and lost his last chance to see his matesprit.
The next day, Gamzee returned. Dressed in a handsome tuxedo, crimson and violet roses piled in a bouquet. His face was clean, no make-up on his skin as he even bothered to fix his hair perfectly. He practically ran into the room, a wide smile on his face as his heart was racing with excitement to see his lover once again after so long. "I'm sorry I'm a day late Kar! Look! I bought you flowers!" He exclaimed happily, pure joy in his tone.
But his only response was silence, and a body in which never raised to take a breath. Gamzee's smile slowly fainted, laughing nervously, "C-come on Karkat, I even personally assorted them, just for you!" He spoke, but was greeted again by the same heart wrenching silence. His eyes glanced upward, seeing the monitor hold a silent, straight line. Gamzee felt his heart sink into his stomach, a gasp escaping his lips before his body trembled. His legs shook, finally giving out as he fell to his knees and became a sobbing mess.
If he were to have worn his paint today, it would have surely dripped onto the floor as well as his clothes and smeared upon his face. Employees had to force Gamzee out of the room, and kick him out of the hospital with a threat of calling the police.