You never wanted to be alone; never pushed anyone away, or shut all the doors. To be honest, you've begged for affection. Maybe that's why nobody likes you, or will talk to you like you're an actual troll and not just some scrum they've wiped off their shoe. Are you desperate? Probably. You don't remember what physical contact even feels like, whether it be red or black. Lately the most touching you've gotten is from fish that you've ran into while trying to kill a larger prey (for a girl that you'd fallen flushed for, only to be rejected entire out of all her quadrants). It brings a pathetic chuckle out of your throat when you think of the times you've gotten in fights just to be touched, if only for a second and even if it'll sting like hell for the next week. It doesn't matter anymore; you really just want to have someone in one of your quadrants. And so far that someone has yet to exist in your life; or if they do already exist than… you're not sure.
When you do try to make an actual attempt at luring someone into a quadrant, it usually backfires and you get called a slut or some blubbering piece of sea trash. The times it has worked were messy and disastrous.
And you don't have friends. None of the people you supposedly hang out with are your friends or you associates. They're a group you fell into through Feferi and stuck there, because you had no idea where else to go and they accepted you with reluctant arms and grimacing faces. They've out casted you now, and to an extent they keep wrapped up in a leash so they have someone to beat up on every once and awhile. Which you'll then take as some kind of blackrom flirting, which will frequently get you punched or slapped or insulted again. It's a habit you really need to let go of, but maybe people should get out of the habit of raising your hopes.
There's this one troll who always screams at you. Calls you bullshit names and, at first, you thought Gamzee or Sollux had just made a new friend who they sent to wail on you. But through Feferi you found that, no, he's been around for a while, and that he screams at literally everybody and thing he sees. She says this with a laugh and goes off to her own devices.
You wonder if he knows too much about you. That's you're a desperate, perverted sea dweller who's in desperate need of some help. Apparently he doesn't, because all he makes fun of is your accent and fashion.
This is exhilarating, you think.
His name is Karkat, but apparently you've neglected anytime his name has come up. You start talking frequently, though his screaming often bursts your eardrums and some of the foul language that leaves his mouth leaves you speechless. But behind all the cussing, a majority of the time his words have actual meaning and he's not just fucking with you. If you ask a question, instead of an insult and a laugh, you receive an insult and an answer. If you compliment him, or say shit about him, he'll say something just as worse back. In a weird way, he's straight forward with everything he does and says. It's just mixed in with a lot of rude remarks and shouting.
One night, he breaks down. He doesn't explain why or if someone did something, but he rushes on and on about how something needs to change and that Alternia is fucked up. You don't entirely agree, but you nodded your head and patted his back and told him it's okay, things will probably change someday. This is a lie and you know it, but it lets you awkwardly skip to asking why he's so fed up all of a sudden. His actual point is unclear, but he explains he feels like a mutant. Out of place, some strange little fucker who doesn't belong, someone to be laughed at and mocked for his insecurities and obvious blemishes in his personality and appearance.
The next day, he's back to normal and screaming like his throat his made of gold, so you don't ask to make sure he's alright because he probably is. And even if you didn't say a single word, you think he might have caught a hair of empathy dripping from your words, and that was enough to calm you down. It might have even done the same for him, too.
Whenever the two of you talk about personal relationships, you find you're not the only one with blank squares. He doesn't stand on idle on his singleness, though, and goes on to scream excitedly and passionately about some terrible movie he watched. Blah, blah, blah, something about the boy or girl losing their boy or girl and then, somehow, they get back together. Happy ever after, hooray; but you don't think that's real and you know Karkat doesn't, either. If there were happy endings in real life, there'd have to be a light hinting at it. The night you share your media-related interest with each other, you figure out a lot of his movies start off kind of happy, and then somebody is lost, and then somebody is gained. You don't ask if this is his own personal experience, but when he sniffles (he covers it with a cough though), you give him a small hug and a smile that may or may not be a little sympathetic.
Seconds after the hug, your body feels like raw electricity, and you realize that that's the first time you've touched anybody – or been touched, because you guess the little movement he made with his arms was kind of like a return hug – in a really, really long time.
And the shock isn't out of a sudden matespritship or kismesissitude, or some other pity wreck of a relationship. You think it could be the human disease called friendship that's been spreading around the twelve of you lately. It took its time to reach you, but you're not at all disappointed with the feeling of having somebody. You figure the feeling is familiar, and maybe the time you've spent away from everybody might have been a little exaggerated.
You're happy to say that that wasn't the only time you two have physically had contact. None of it is big compared to what other people might do, but it fills you with joy nonetheless. No matter how many times it happens, even on accident, if just his finger brushes against you, it brings a smile to your face. You don't flinch; don't shut the door, because that's not something you've ever done. You like to think someone finally opened the door, and that someone was a screaming moron who keeps his blood identity to himself. A screaming moron with a lot of insecurities and a really sad story to tell, which you've managed to piece together bit by bit through small phrases and actions.
He comes to your hive one day, instead of the two of you waltzing alone in the corner while everyone else chats up a storm. He's pissed because he got wet, and that it smells like fish shit. You hand him a towel and shrug, saying being a sea dweller everything smells like fish shit. He laughs, mockingly but in a way you know it's sincere.
Being out in the middle of the ocean, the only real activity you can provide for him is swimming. You don't know why he came to your hive when you could have easily watched movies or something at his, but you don't say anything. Because he's a land dweller, he's obviously unprepared for the activity, so you supply him with an extra pair of trunks you have.
As soon as he touches the water you know he's literally the worst swimmer in all of Alternia. Even Nepeta will swim if it means she'll catch her meal, despite literally hating water. Hell, Terezi's blind and she'll do it. You don't mock him for it though, but you do give him a little help when it comes to swimming in the deeper parts of your territory. When you're not supporting him, he basically flounders about like a featherless bird while trying to get back to the shallow areas where he can stand.
"So, why'd we hang out at my hive?" you ask when you're both sitting on a ruined dock. A small laugh escapes you after it, because it's kind of ridiculous Karkat put himself in an environment you know he's not comfortable in at all. He hates being exposed, and yet he's sitting bare chested right next to you.
He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, growling to the water, "What would we have done at my fucking place? Watched some shitty romcoms as my lusus clacks the living fuck out of our hearing tubes. Yeah, sounds fun as fuck." Karkat splashes the water with his foot, scaring away several small fish.
"You can't even swim, Kar," you point out.
"And you have a terrible taste in movies," he says.
Karkat and you swim back to your hive, where you dry off and eat a small meal contained mostly of some bizarre fish you'd caught days earlier.
You sit on your couch and he's got his head in your lap, which you refuse to neglect and comb your – claw-like – nails through his hair. For entertainment, you two are watching the fish swim carelessly around the seafloor from an opening in your living quarters. Well, you're watching. Karkat tired himself out and is basically dead to the world; although he does twitch with a sign of life, periodically.
At what you assume is starting to be the early hours of the evening, you shake him awake. He's grumpier than fuck and shouts profanities straight into your ear as he sits up straight and rustles his hair, ruining the almost perfect, laid back style you'd put it in. "Are you going back to your hive?" you ask.
"Probably not," he replies. "I can just spend the night. I don't think my lusus will notice. Or give a fuck." After a second, he yawns, and adds, "he'll probably just clack angrily at me for an hour."
You laugh a little and stare at the floor again. Schools of blue fish cloud the water; hiding everything else within the five feet of vision you were given. But suddenly that's all concealed by a shade of gray and the strong smell of sea salt. At first, you're confused and maybe even a little scared and excited, and then you realize it's Karkat. His lips are light against yours, hardly even a kiss but just like anything else it's sending a lightening-like euphoric response to your brain, and this one makes you feel like drowning (if you could actually drown). You move in closer, and it's nothing like what you used to do with Vriska or wanted to do with Feferi. It's small and nice, sweet on your tongue and when he leaves there's a tingling sensation on your lips that spreads throughout your entire body.
He's blushing red. "Wow," he mumbles – grumbles, as he is Karkat – and looks at the floor as if he's in shame. "I'm not really fucking sorry for that at all."
You smile a sharp, toothy smile. He looks up and smiles at you.