Hey guys. This was originally going to be a series, but turned into a Gamkat one shot.
EVERYTHING I WRITE TURNS INTO SADSTUCK.
Anyways, not going to say much more. I think my next story will be another Davkat, idk, but It'll defiantly have Dave.
Reviews/favorites/follows are nice as always.
Have a great morning/day/evening/night, lovelies!
~Gamzee POV~
You walk through the rain, dragging your feet in the wet street. Your hands are shoved into your pockets and you can feel the small key in your right palm. It slips in between your fingers and drops back down onto the fabric. The sky is dark and you slip between light and shadow just like the small key, walking between street lights and being momentarily illuminated by passing cars. Every once in a while you'll look closely and see the small water droplets, watching them come out of nowhere and then sink into the ground.
You don't understand how that even works, but then again you don't understand how a lot of things work.
They're just motherfuckin' miracles, man.
Eventually you reach the apartment and pull the key out of you pocket, slipping it in the lock and turning it. With a click it allows you entry and your legs carry you inside. Water drips from your hair, clothes and fingertips as you walk into the entryway, liquid falling onto the floor. A small, black haired head with nubby little horns looks up at you from a blanket on the couch. He's holding a cup of what looks like hot chocolate and gives you a concerned look.
"Gamzee! Where the fuck have you been! And you're SOAKED! Oh my gog just go get in the shower please, before you make an even bigger fucking mess than you already have." You smile at him.
"Sure, Bro." You walk into the bathroom and close the door. Stripping, you throw the wet clothes on the ground and they land with a slap on the tile. You look in the mirror, leaning into the sink with your hands yet shifting away with your hips. You stare at your tall, lean figure and long mass of hair. It's flattened at the moment due to the water but is still somehow slightly curled, sticking out in some places more than others. Your horns shoot out of your mass of hair and make you even taller, completing the towering yet friendly look your friends have become so accustomed to.
You look happy, but also sad at the same time. You look depressed, slightly angry, and most of all, you look tired.
You sigh and trudge over to the shower, giggling as the water flows out of the shower head. At first it's just as cold as the rain but warms, eventually letting off a small bit of steam. You step in and let it run over your face, sighing as it ebbs against your cold bones.
Before long you're done and out, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around yourself. You still drip water and yell out to Karkat,
"I'm naked and getting clothes bro, don't look!" He snorts and you look out at him to see him covering his eyes with his hand dramatically before running up the stars. It's not that you're embarrassed by your body; it's that Karbro doesn't know about your scars.
They run up and down your torso, all the way up your arms, on your legs, wrists, ankles. You covered the ones on your arms up with tatoos so you can wear short sleeve shirts, but you don't want your entire body to be covered in ink as well.
You make your way up into your room and open your closet, grabbing your purple shirt and black jeans, rubbing your hair with a towel and making your way back downstairs. Karkat is sitting on the couch still, staring at the TV. Probably watching a rom com or something, and you flop down next to him. Turning his head with your hand you kiss him and he kisses back. It's not long but it's enough to make you smile, pulling him into your lap and wrapping your arms around him.
Although you can't see his face you can feel him get physically warmer from embarrassment and snuggle into your back. You grab his abandoned blanket on the couch and wrap it around both yourself and him, snuggling into it and making it an even warmer environment. He grabs your arms and traces your tattoos, running his fingers along the lines. His head is now turned and you can see his face. He's smiling, looking at each one with affection. You stop watching him after a while and turn to the movie, finding comfort in the feeling of having a warm body in your arms.
You're almost asleep when you hear his voice.
"Gamzee?" You hmm in response, not bothering to open your eyes.
"What's this?" You open your eyes lazily. He's pointing to your arm, on the back near the underside of your elbow, where a rather new scar is showing through.
"Shit bro-"
"YOU'VE BEEN DOING THIS AND YOU HAVEN'T TOLD ME? WHY, IS THAT WHY YOU WON'T PAIL WITH ME, ARE THEY OTHER PLACES ON YOUR BODY?" He struggles to get your shirt up but you hold it down nervously, getting slightly aggravated.
"NO, LET ME SEE! LET ME SEE RIGHT NOW YOU LITTLE FUCK, YOU'RE GOING TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF AND SHOW ME ALL YOUR SCARS AND CUTS AND-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP"
You shove him out of your lap and he lands on the floor. He looks up at you, now scared, and you grab a clown club sitting near the couch. They had always been decorative…
Now they're your weapons.
"Don't you think I'm already mother fuckin' mad enough at myself? DON'T YOU?" He's scooting away, shuffling on his backside to the wall. How pathetic he is. He yelled at you. Yelled at you for hating yourself and trying to make it easier, trying not to kill yourself.
He'd yelled at you for being alive.
That defeats him to have the right to live either.
You pull the club back above your head and swing. He dodges and you hit the wall where his head was just moments ago. It takes out a large chunk, denting the club and letting splinters of wood shower onto the floor. He whimpers and tries to run but you grab the back of his shirt, pulling him back closer to you by the fabric.
You turn him around and look him in the eyes. He looks scared, anxious, sad and pleading.
"Gamzee please…" After another moment of staring at the lowblood you smile, a wicked grin, and shove him to the floor. You put your knee on top of him and he can't move; you've always been much larger than the younger troll. Still smiling, you lift the purple club above your head and swing, laughing at the satisfying snap when the club cracks over his head. There is blood running down from his thinkpan and it's dripping onto the floor.
Red.
Bright, candy red.
Wait, Karkat has candy red blood.
And so does the club in your hand.
And Karkat's below you… dead.
You hold your hand to your mouth and let out a sob, standing up only to slide down the wall in terror. What have you done, gog what have you done. You stumble into the bathroom and puke into the sink, bending over it and retching. Reaching into one of the drawers you grab a razor and start to slice open your skin.
Purple drips off your wrist, then your forearm, your neck, collarbone, chest, sides. Your throat hurts from sobbing but it doesn't matter.
You just killed the love of your life… you took his right to live.
That smile, that laugh, that angry little ball of adorableness is gone forever, and you want to see him again. You want to see him so, so badly…. but he's dead.
So the only way to do that is to die as well.
Letting blood drip onto the carpet you walk into the living room and lay next to his body, reaching up to close his eyes. You lay your head on his neck, letting fresh purple tinted tears stain his grey skin. He didn't deserve this… you're the one who needed to die.
The one who needs to die.
There is a small amount of light coming through the window from the moon and you can see the rain still coming down. outside and you can hear the pitter patter of it on the roof. You're so tired…
You close your eyes. You never wanted and never want to see a world without Karkat Vantas. He was your miracle.
He was your miracle.
