KISMESIS
When the dying scream in your head 24/7, you tend to become numb from the small things. I stub my toe and it's no big deal because being impaled or burned or ran over looks more painful. The neighbor's music is in full blast, but I can barely hear it over mixed whispers and screeches of agony. Sudden darkness is no problem; my eyes glow and I know the keyboard like the back of my hand. There's nothing that can faze me anymore.
Except his presence.
I don't think I've ever hated anyone so much in my entire life. In fact, I don't think I've ever hated anyone, period. But here he comes, being all pompous and self-righteous and obnoxious and just plain annoying, and I just… snap. Static fills the air and there's an almost blissful silence that comes with the hate, rage, and even more hate. It's amazing how little he has to do to get under my skin.
"Eridan's not that bad, Sollux," Feferi says, in a futile attempt to make me reevaluate her moirail. "You just have to get to know him."
I scoff every time. It's not that hard to know him when all he talks about is himself.
"When I was younger, my lusus used to take me to this extravagant restaurant," he begins, and I immediately took my mind elsewhere. But his voice is so grating that even the screaming in my head can't overwhelm it, can't drown it. And there's always "I" and "we" and "I" and "we" and another "I"-
Shut. Up. Oh my gog.
"He just likes sharing his experiences," Feferi explains, and yeah, okay, I can accept that. But it doesn't hurt to ask other people about their experiences too. It wasn't as if he's the only one with important things to share.
"Are you in a kissmessitude?" Karkat asks one day, when he felt so fed up with both of us being sort of passive-aggressive. And I shrug and smirk, because really, we don't talk enough to establish something like that.
When I look at him, he plays it off, all casual, as if the animosity between us isn't thick enough to grab onto. We'd never talk, we'd always resort to snide remarks or subtle insults, and we'd always try to avoid being too close. Like an unspoken agreement. Or like the other's a plague.
"He's a sarcastic douche who does nothing but sit in front of a computer all day," is what I overhear him telling Kanaya. "He gets on my nerves every time I see him, and I don't even know him. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one he rubs the wrong way, Kan. I want nothing to do with him."
I see Kanaya smile, and I swear that smile does not bode well.
I turn to look at Eridan, who looked unnerved by it too, and despite the hilarity of seeing him all ruffled, I felt the familiar boil of black feelings well up in my gut and I had to turn away.
Gog, I hate him so much.
What appeases me about the situation is that the feeling's apparently mutual.