I'm Bleeding out for you

Sometimes (always, these days), he dreams of places and people he doesn't know–shouldn't know. But, if there's one thing he knows, it's he's always been different. Sometimes, he dreams of cool arms and lilting songs, other times, one blue eye and one red squinted in a smile and obnoxious laughter, a lot of the time, he dreams of purring and a mane of thick hair draped over a bare back and a few times, he's dreamt of an arrow soaring through the air and explosive pain in his side. He knows others don't dream like him; they don't make themselves sick wondering if what they see isn't real. They don't force themselves to pace and fuss to keep sleep at bay, nor do they fear sleeping.

Dreams harshening his face's perpetual scowl, Karkat wriggles in sleep. He's trying (and failing), to avoid the life that's not his. Scrabbling for perch in the whirlwind of colors and sounds, Karkat screams as nigh-terrors overcome him…

"Hush, wriggler, they are just dreams, " a voice soothes, fingers running through his unruly hair and cooling his hot face.

"No… No, Mother, I don't think they are," he whispers back fervently, but the older hand pushes him back into his pile.

"Sleep, little wriggler, all will be well in the evening," she urges. Squinting up through bleary eyes, he catches sight of jade-green eyes identical to ones he knows and frowns.

"…It's real, it could be, Mother." He sighs, unconsciousness taking him down into his mind's shadowed corridors.

-v-v-v-v-v-

"I've dreamt of a world where blood can be blood and all are equals!" he finishes in one grand climax, bringing cheers and whispers of awe from those listening. Grinning in satisfaction, he steps away from the ledge, only to nearly run into his rod-thin moirail. "Ah!" he exclaims, "I almost didn't see you there!" He laughs, looking up into the thin face of his fellow troll (would he look this way if he was given a chance to grow up?).

The yellow-blood's face is dark and frowning. "Do you truly believe everything you preach?"

Taken back, he blinks up at the other. "Would I say it if I didn't?" he counters.

His moirail's face looks away. "Trolls say a lot of things they don't mean."

Reaching out to his moirail, and gripping his arm in a comforting hold, he whispers, "Not me." The yellow-blood looks at him then, looks at him so hard he feels himself wanting to resist and attack, but he controls himself and takes it all with the gentlest of smiles.

Slowly, a smile–brighter than his own–takes over his fellow troll's face. "I believe you," he says.

Grinning at his moirail, he keeps his hand on the yellow-blood's arm and leads him towards his mother and her.

-v-v-v-v-v-

Side by side, bare of all, with only a blanket to cover them, he turns his head to look at an achingly familiar face. "I want you with me forever, you know that, right?" he asks of the olive-blood.

She smiles a smile like a meow beast with its cream and snuggles closer to his side. "Of course I do!" she exclaims. A little frown starts between her brows. "But what is this we have? Matespritship? Moirails of some sort?" she asks.

Taking hold of her delicately manicure hand, he kisses it. "Something better than either of those, I think," he replies, grinning at her.

Her eyes alight with something amazing. "What will we call it, then?" she questions.

Leaning in so their bodies mesh together as one, he whispers into her mane of black hair, "Love, this is love."

She's quiet for a time, letting his hands work through her tangles, and purring occasionally. Tilting her face so she can capture his lip in a kiss, she murmurs, "I like it. Love…it captures everything, doesn't it?"'

Smiling at her, he nods. "It does," he agrees. Fingers webbing together, the two of them take strength in each other's company as they wait for the sun's setting.

-v-v-v-v-v-

The whistle of an arrow cuts through the jeers, cheers and wails. He knows its coming and he tenses, praying that it will end swiftly. When it hits him, it's flaming pain–nearly unbearable, but then he's dragged down into darkness.

When he wakes next, nothing's the same and everything's jumbled within his mind.

He wakes up screaming, screaming so loud he doesn't even notice he's not alone anymore until Kanaya's arms are keeping him from clawing out his eyes.

"Karkat? Karkat what's wrong?" she pleads, frowning as he harshly pulls away from her and curls into a tiny ball (he can't let her see the tears, not anymore than she has, anyway).

"'M fine," he growls. "What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?" he demands.

Upset, Kanaya mutters, "You asked me to come see you, remember?"

Head spinning and fuzzy with echoes of dreams (but, they can't be), he vaguely recalls such a request. "Right, yeah." He sighs.

Cool fingers coming to comb back his hair from his forehead, Karkat's reminded of another set of hands. The older ones from his dreams. With a sigh, he sinks into the ministration. "What was the dream about, Karkat?" Kanaya inquires.

Curling into a loose ball once more, Karkat shrugs his shoulders at her and answers tiredly, "Things."

Taking a seat beside him, her fingers never stop their gentle attention. "What sorts of things?"

Turning his head so he can stare right into his fellow troll's gaze, he sees his desolate, exhausted eyes in her own. "Of things no one should know," he utters.

Her scratching stops, but it's quickly replaced with arms that come around to embrace him and, in return, he wraps his own around her and hopes he can spare her anymore pain (and the other her too).

My First and (probably) last Homestuck fanfic ever, props to those who can write up a good Homestuck fic! This stuff's hard.

I hope you guys liked it and please leave a review! :)

EDITED: 2/16/16