Decided to post this here too for anybody who isn't familiar with the homestuck kink meme on lj. Pairings will include: Sufferer/Psiionic, Mindfang/Dolorosa, Mindfang/Dualscar (kismesis), Darkleer/Disciple (moirail), Grand Highblood/Summoner, Dualscar/Condesce. Hope you enjoy!
EDIT: Accidentally uploaded the old version of this chapter in my rush this morning, but all of the small errors should be fixed.
1: THE SUFFERER
He comes across them one day on the way back from one of his sermons.
Surprisingly, he is alone today – The Disciple went along with The Dolorosa and The Psiioniic to gather supplies in one of the nearby towns – and he is ashamed by how relieved he is at this fact. He's not sure if she could have handled seeing the scene before him, could have handled seeing what is clearly her Descendant be shunned so terribly by his own.
He watches the younger, angrier version of himself ignore the small olive-blooded troll staring at him adoringly from across the small alcove where they have hidden themselves, feels his blood-pusher clench at the way he grimaces when she tries to talk to him. He sees all of this, and knows that he should just walk away and pretend that he didn't see anything. Didn't see what is clearly his matesprit be rejected again and again by his own flesh and blood.
Instead he comes back the next day, and the next, and the one after that.
When his friends begin to throw curious glances his way after days of continuing to arrive late to their meeting place, he firmly tells himself that he needs to stop – if not for his sake then for The Disciple's. Every time he turns down an invitation to spend time together, every time he feels her stare after him sadly when he leaves, he feels something terribly small and fragile inside of himself break in two. He wants to tell himself that the only reason he keeps going is because he is simply curious about them, but he knows deep down that these are just his half-hearted attempts to justify his actions. He knows that deep down he is terrified. Terrified of the truth, terrified of the dreams he has, terrified of his feelings.
Terrified of what this might mean.
Because he knows that he doesn't go to only watch his Descendant bicker and argue with the rest of the other trolls – he goes to watch them. Together.
He goes to watch his other self allow the troll with the familiar eyes lay his head in his lap, watches the fond grin spread across the yellow-blood's face as his Descendant fusses and flails angrily over the state of his clothes, his health, his personal habits. When he eventually catches them holding hands when they think no one's watching he finally allows himself to think: 'They pity each other.' Because it's so glaringly obvious and it really is stupid that it's taken him this long to admit it to himself and it's true – it's so true and that's why it's so scary and terrifying.
He isn't surprised that it's The Psiioniic that finally confronts him about it.
"What in Alternia'th name are you doing?" the psychic says with such an angry expression on his face that it actually stops his mutant blood cold for a few seconds. It takes him awhile before his throat can finally get out a few stuttered words.
"I-I was just – "
The Psiioniic cuts him off sharply before he can finish.
"Juth what? Going out without telling anybody where you're going or who you're with? Worrying all of uth half to death? Becauth if that wath what you were going for, let me tell you that you've been doing a gogdamned good job. Why don't you juth go ahead and give yourthelf a fucking A pluth for being thuch a thelfish nookthiffer?"
He flinches at the other troll's cutting words, his accusatory glare, looking anywhere but at his face; he feels like those bichromatic eyes can see right through him and it's seriously freaking him out that he's never noticed how much the yellow-blood affected him before.
When exactly did he become so important to him?
When did he suddenly gain the ability to leave him speechless?
He just stares down at the floor feeling like the biggest idiot in the world because here he was claiming to be this big prophet or some shit – but he couldn't even admit that maybe he was wrong about this. Wrong about the things he thought had meaning in his life, all of those times that he had held her close and told her that he pitied her more than anyone else. What would happen if he actually said all of that stuff out loud? What would happen if they knew how much he could feel his whole life falling to pieces around him?
Because now he doesn't know what the hell to believe in anymore.
"You're not going to talk to me about it, are you?"
It isn't until the other troll whispers something so terribly soft and vulnerable sounding that he finally looks up.
He's never seen The Psiioniic look so hurt before – so fragile– that he automatically reaches a hand out to stop him when he begins to turn to leave.
"No! I mean – fuck – ok, I know that I've been a giant douche for not giving you guys the heads up. But you just have to fuckin' trust me when I say that…I can't tell you right now. I just…I just can't right now, but someday I will. I promise. So please…don't leave."
'Don't leave me' he thinks, hand tightening on the other troll's arm when for an insane moment he thinks that the psychic might actually do it, he actually might just turn around and leave. And all of a sudden he realizes that he can handle anything – anything else – in his life except that.
For a while all he can hear is the steady throb of his blood-pusher in his ears until The Psiioniic finally turns around slowly and just looks at him. Really looks at him, like this is the first time the yellow blood's ever seen him before even though he can't even remember a time anymore when The Psiioniic wasn't always standing next to him, wasn't always by his side.
After what feels like sweeps, an uneasy acceptance flashes in his mismatched eyes.
"Ok. I'll hold you to that. I'll trutht you. I've alwayth truthted you Thignleth."
The fact that he knew The Psiioniic wouldn't even be here with him if he didn't trust him goes unsaid, and he knows that this is the time to say something important, to tell him how relieved he is at those words coming out of his lispy mouth, how utterly fucking fantastic he feels – but all that he manages to say is: "Are we still friends?"
The other troll rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face is surprisingly fond.
"Yeth ThTh, we're thill friendth. You can let go of my arm now."
When he does finally remove his hand from the yellow-blood's arm he feels all of the tension of the past couple of days uncoiling itself from his body along with it. 'I can do this,' he thinks. 'Everything's going to be ok.'
The other troll tilts his head slightly in the direction of the main communal living space where the four of them usually eat together before saying, "The Dolorotha'th already made dinner. We thould head on over there."
"...sure" he says hesitantly, nodding his head before following a few steps behind him.
The Dolorosa gives them both a knowing look when they walk in, but other than that it's like the last couple of days had never even happened. It's almost surreal, how in this moment it feels like nothing has changed; he watches as The Disciple makes a comment about something Redglare had told her the other day and The Psiioniic grins before saying something equally hilarious that sends her into a giggling fit. The Dolorosa smiles kindly before serving each of them their share, and he can't help but feel so ashamed for ever wanting to leave this, the warmth and comfort of his friends.
The Psiioniic catches his eye from across the table and smiles so beautifully at him that he actually chokes on the food in his mouth. The other troll laughs at him while The Dolorosa pats his back and The Disciple scolds him for laughing at his misfortune.
He angrily glares at the yellow-blood who smirks like an asshole right back at him, but neither of them put any real feeling behind it.
What finally breaks him isn't the searing shackles they have placed around his wrists, or how viciously they beat and brutalize him, rip the teeth from his mouth and the hair from his head. It isn't the way they string him up for all to see, barely alive, and bleeding candy red into the ground like so many generations before him.
It's his bruised face breaking through the crowd of jeering high-bloods, covered in his own yellow blood, trying to somehow reach him through the throng of twisted forms. He watches as they slowly but surely overwhelm him, sees his hands reach out towards him from underneath a dozen royal guards, and feels an unstoppable rage well up inside his chest. He barely feels the arrow pierce his side before he howls out into the night all of the hatred and rage he never knew existed inside of himself until the very moment he saw them drag him away.
The shining stars in the Alternian sky are the last thing he ever sees before his world goes black.
Much much later, when you are no longer known as The Psiioniic, you will finally receive what Sh-E had stolen from you long ago and find him again, waiting for you amongst the stars.
