You curl into him, silent. Wordless. What's there to say in a time like this? It's not the same, it'll never be the same. Yet here you are, trying to force it to be. You almost laugh at how pathetic you are, how pathetic this is. You're curled into your friend, now sobbing.
He acts like it's normal, like he somehow could look past everything that had happened and say it was fine. It wasn't. You both knew this, and yet here he was with soft touches and gentle kisses to the forehead like it was. You knew this was horrible of you, forcing your way back into his life after everything, but fuck you needed him
You needed the one asshole you thought was the most annoying, and to an extent you wanna laugh at yourself. Laugh at the fact you regretted making him leave, laugh at the fact you're now here crying to him, and laugh because you're the biggest idiot on this god forsaken hell hole planet. He's still gentle, hands patting themselves on your face as he let out quiet 'shoosh'es and allows himself to wrap his gangling limbs around your body.
You don't protest.
It's nice being curled into him again, you missed it in all honestly. You needed him to hold you and tell you it'd be ok, you needed his soft noises to comfort you. After everything, the fights, the time apart, everything, he smelt the same. He felt the same. He was the same. You tried not to bitterly comment about it, about how somehow the fact you screamed and shouted till you were hoarse didn't change him like it did you. You wanted to, so badly, but your words never escaped. Instead your face buries itself in the nape of his neck and you let out a choked sob.
He moves his hands up and down your back now, rubbing in gentle circles as if you were a snowflake he caught on a winter day. You wanna punch him for it, you wanna kiss his face and do the same, you want every emotion running through you to just stop. You replayed the fight in your mind for countless hours since it happened.
It was a petty one, to say the least. Starting over something as simple as the fact his living quarters were messy, and it ended with you screeching and shoving him. He wasn't as angry as you, or at least, his way of showing it wasn't as loud. You threw out insults, he threw out the truth. You were the insecure fucker he claimed you to be, you knew that much.
Yet even after he had said his piece, he was still here, willing to hold you. You croon your neck abruptly, earning a startled expression from the taller. He's soft in the face, the overwhelming amount of pity stored in his eyes makes you wanna vomit and hold him at the same time. You do neither. Instead your face contorts until you're sobbing again, hiccups and soft mutters of swears leaving your throat.
It's only around two or three hours of this silent tirade do you finally give up fighting yourself, falling limp in his arms you hear him coo gently at the feeling. You know well he's going to make a comment, but what it was surprises you,
"Poor little misunderstood Karkat, no one like's a sad face my fine brother,"the comment would naturally sound sarcastic from anyone but the disgusting clown you call a best friend. You curl up instinctively, you try to think about what'd happened if you really had left for good.
You can't remember life without him, you know all too well you had known him for longer than anyone, and still you weren't sick of him. He had to be sick of you though, with your constant childish behaviour you wanted him to tell you it was bad. You wanted a reason to hate him, god dammit. He didn't offer one normally, he was so soft and gentle with you. You wanted him to do something, anything, for a valid reason to hate him.
He doesn't ever give you one.
You choose not to insult him, instead replying to his comment in a low manner. You hated doing this, you truly did, but this had all been your fault. And he knew this, but still he held you close and comforted you. So, it was truly on you to make it better.
"I'm sorry, thank you."
