Warnings!: language, mentions of suicide, and gay love! No smut.
May add smut sequel rated M, if I get enough requests. R&R
You hold his hand because that's all you can do.
He doesn't really look at you. You don't blame him. You're horrible. You're horrible and
he knows it and you don't know why… but you feel relieved. Your hand reaches up to rub the sore rope burns on your throat. You turn your head to watch him. Watch him sit there and look worried into the distance. Watch his dark lashes flutter over his red eyes. Stare as his thin lips part to breathe. You admire his practically flawless pale skin and his black hair that has grown out some because he has been too busy to manage it these last few days.
Too busy with you. You and your bullshit. You, and having issues so much as surviving without Karkat telling you how to do so. You, and your inability to handle anything. It gets tiring being you. You don't have any right to his help though. You just don't. You don't have any right to anyone's help and that's why you were doing what you did.
What left your neck sore and had you bawling and made you leave that note that he found too soon. Well, maybe he didn't find it too soon so much as you didn't get your courage steadied soon enough. He burst in all sick and worried and devastated …until he looked up. He saw you still kicking and got you down. You had literally just jumped when he opened the door. He didn't look that distraught over you did he? No that wouldn't make any sense.
He didn't say much when he got you down. He climbed up onto the dresser like a fucking acrobat and grabbed your arm, pulling you up enough to keep the noose from choking you. You wanted to fight back but you couldn't. You were tired …so tired. He held on to your arm and bent his knees just enough to grab a knife that was sitting on the top of the dresser. Fuck… you wish you had cleaned up more. That knife wouldn't have been there and he wouldn't have been able to cut the rope and maybe you would have succeeded. Maybe you wouldn't be here in the emergency room waiting room sitting and holding hands and both being pretty miserable. At least, as far as you can tell.
He bites his lip as the nurse or receptionist or whatever calls your name and the two of you head to the office. You hadn't been sitting in the waiting room long. They're probably afraid you'll do something stupid. You're afraid you'll do something stupid. You're afraid you'll make Karkat upset again. You didn't want him to find you. Hell, you didn't even want him to find the note. It has his name on it and all but you weren't expecting him to show up today. You knew Terezi and Tavros were coming up around four to pick up the last of his stuff that Karkat had left when he moved in with her. You thought they'd find you. That they would find you and it wouldn't matter to them, because even though they visit, they were also always saying how useless you are. So they wouldn't really care if you were gone. Tavros would find the note. He would hand it off to Karkat. Even if Tavros didn't actually like you he would know it was important enough to pass it along.
You hear Karkat's stomach growl and yours lurches. He came in asking if you wanted to come along for lunch, right? You think that's what he had said. You remember hearing his voice strained. You look down at your feet, shifting them as you stand in the doctor's office. As an older lady in white scrubs looks you over. She assages the sides of your throat with ice cold fingers. The nurse pulls back the left sleeve of your black hoodie. She puts it back. She makes disapproving "tsk tsk" noices and scribbles furiously at the clipboard shaking her head. He doesn't let go of your hand and you don't try to pull away. Even if it's kind of strange and confusing to touch him, it's really nice too. You're not used to much affection. Actually… not at all.
He motions for the doc to come over to him. Whispers in her ear. She nods and scurries off and he turns to look at you. You don't want to look at him. You have to though. You have to make yourself. You do so and your chest clenches. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are wet like maybe he started crying awhile back but you didn't pay much attention. Maybe because it was quiet, or because all you really wanted to stare at were those lashes of his. He looks like he's putting on a strong face. You can see through it though. The worry and the fear… and something else. He glances at the door for a little before spontaneously yanking you into a tight hug. You feel his chest rack against you in a sob. Slowly slip your hands around his back as he buries his face in your shoulder.
Your eyes are wide and you are in shock.
"Why didn't you, tell me something was, wrong?" Karkat whispers hurriedly.
"Motherfucker…I don't know what you mean." Gamzee eludes the question. His voice raspy.
"Gamzee please just answer me." Karkat begs, sobbing silently between words. For once he didn't sound…angry.
"... I didn't think anyone would really up and mind it."
"You, left a note, didn't you? Didn't that mean you knew that I would mind it? It was addressed to me."
"Naw, naw. That shit was all for me, yo. Wanted to feel okay about going and off and all.
Couldn't really make it feel right without having a bye for someone or other."
"Why... Why me then?" Karkat's voice was strained with an unintelligible emotion.
"I dunno bro." Gamzee's voice wrapped in sadness.
"There's has to be some reason."
"There ain't." Gamzee's answer was quick and blunt, trying to steer Karkat away from the topic.
"You knew I was coming in, didn't you?"
"Naw. Wouldn't have done it if I'd knew."
"Why not?"
"Don't like worrying a brother, motherfucker." Karkat's eyes crossed with a fierce emotion before he breathlessly responds.
"Don't you think it would've been worse to find you dead, asshole?"
"I thought it would have been a motherfucking relief for a lot of motherfuckers."
He must not have read the whole note if he doesn't know why you addressed it to him and him only. He stops hugging you and holds you at arms length. Looks you over, eyes darting across your body, biting his lip, trying not to whimper, and wearing a pitiful sad/mad expression you don't like at all. You turn your eyes away. Shut them tight. He yanks you close again. Tangles one hand's worth of fingers through your hair.
"Why don't you, understand, Gamz?" He rubs his cheek against yours. You blink your eyes open. "No one, and, I mean no one, wants to see you, dead." You are confused.
"It'd be, really terrible, to have you gone, especially, this way. Since, it would, well, it already did, make me feel guilty and, like I couldn't really help." You are really, really confused. Karkat flinches into his previous standing-beside-you-holding-your-hand position just before the doctor comes in. She informs you, well, more Karkat than you, about what kind of meds and fix-ups you'll need. What to do about your... 'Little issue'. She sends the two of you off to the pharmacy to pick up a few tiny trivial things. Tells him to take care of you for a few days until the main psych doc is back from his vacation, and grabs Karkat's phone number for when it happens. She suggests he watch your arms as well, and accusingly shoots icy glares at you and states that she noticed odd scar patterns there. He looks at you solemnly with a pleading look. The look begs you to tell him that he just heard wrong. You shift your gaze down ashamedly and he nods.
You walk in silence as everything is put in order. Karkat grabs your meds (Which turn out to just be some kind of sedatives, you guess they're to keep you dull and dim until they can really fix you up) and some kind of lotion thing for your throat. He opens the door and you get in the car. He sits in the driver's seat and the car rolls on down the road. He drives you to your house. He grabs the pharmacy paper bag and storms out his door to yours, opens it, and waits.
You get out and follow him as he heads inside the house. Silence. You've made him mad. You shouldn't have done any of that shit. No, wait. You should have done all of it. You shouldn't have gotten caught. Yeah. That's it.
He sits you down on his bed and sets the bag on the bedside table-dresser-whatever. Karkat dashes off to the kitchen and dashes back just as quickly, as if he is afraid you will off yourself if he leaves you for more than a second, two pop cans and various fruits in hand. He spreads the loot on the bed and hands you one of the sodas before grabbing an apple and digging in. He doesn't much look like he's enjoying it. Karkat looks like he's sick but he knows he has to eat. He disdainfully stares at the fruit in his hand while he chews one bite, makes a face as he takes another.
When he finishes he just tosses it across the room. He turns to look at you and you stare down at the soda in your hands. You don't open it or take a drink. You don't want to do either.
You just feel his stare bore holes in your scalp and contemplate. He had said he felt guilty because of what you did… He had said there wasn't a single motherfucker that wanted to see you dead. He had hugged you. Had rubbed his face against yours. He had looked oh so sad, scared and sorry. He had read your note and is still talking to you.
Well, read some of it at least. You're not sure if he read all of it or if he just scanned the first few lines before dashing in like an unnecessary hero. You almost laugh at that thought, but really it isn't funny.
"Hey bro, if you're all and reading this up I probably ain't kicking no more."
That, you end up scoffing at. Oh that Strider asshole would've loved the irony there. Literally kicking either as or right after that was read. You see Karkat moving everything to the bedside table. You wonder why he brought so much in. Maybe he just wanted to make sure there was something you would want or he would want and he didn't much want to waste time thinking of what it would be. Probably.
He takes the can from your hands and places it next to the other stuff. You don't mind. You didn't want it. He knows you didn't want it. You're lifted, and all you feel is air for a second until you come back down and you can feel the comforter against your back and legs and a pillow under your head. You were confused for a second and then remembered you haven't eaten anything for practically weeks and you must have weighed about 100lbs about now. Then you feel Karkat.
He crawls up beside you and lays one arm over your chest, his hand resting on your shoulder. His other arm curls up to allow that hand to caress your cheek and hair. He stays off of you, but leans enough over that you can feel him against your chest and your stomach. God he's warm.
"I'm... So sorry, Gamzee." he whispers, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he does. You are confused. You are very confused. "I should've, noticed, and, helped you." he says as you tense up and bite your lip. "It shouldn't have gotten this, far, I'm so sorry." No.
No no no. No it is not his fault, it is not his fault.
Your hands are shaking. You flip so you're facing him and bury your face in his chest.
He doesn't protest. He rubs your back in circles and pets your hair. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and he softly kisses the top of your head. You cry. You already went through this once today, bawling over something seemingly stupid. This time he is holding you. He is holding …you.
Karkat. Karkat, Karkat, Karkat. You shouldn't be crying again. You shouldn't be worrying him or bothering him. You feel real bad though. Really bad. Like you made a big mistake but you don't know what it is. You just know it hurts and sucks and it's all your fault. One thing strikes you as important right now and you can't let it go.
"Did you read all of that motherfucking shit?"
"The, directions on the medication? No, not yet I-."
"The note." Gamzee cut Karkat off mid sentence.
"Oh… Yeah." A tentative wavering statement.
"..." Gamzee makes no noise…actually holding his breath waiting for something else.
"I'm sorry."
"..." What does he mean, he's sorry? You wonder as you keep your breath held.
"I, really should've figured out something was up, sooner, that, you were miserable, and-" You burst.
"Karkat you know what I'm motherfucking getting at, don't play dumb."
You peer up at him. He smiles a bit somberly, with his brows furrowed… He doesn't feel the way you do. You don't know why you hoped otherwise. You don't know why you wrote in that fucking note that you love him. You don't know how you got so fucking stupid. You just don't.
"I... Didn't think now was really, the time to address that."
He shifts his eyes away, looking almost... Shy? Fuck that can't be it. "I mean, I..." He shakes his head, "I think we should, really focus, on, making sure you're, better, before..."
You sniffle a bit, pull an arm down to wipe your eyes on your sleeve. "I... Dammit. Okay, I... I really, like you, you know, that way, too, I just... Wanna work on getting you better right now okay? I want to make sure you're alright."
You nod slowly. Methodically. He doesn't really, you don't think. He's trying to cheer you up. Yeah. That makes more sense. Even if he's holding you closer and burying his face in the top of your head. Even if he hums quietly and strokes you and whispers that he's gonna make everything okay. He just feels guilty. He just feels obligated. You're not worth anyone's time or attention. You know you aren't. That's why you jumped off that fucking dresser. That's why you put the loop around your neck. That's why you tied rope to a ceiling fan. You're not worth this trouble. You're not-
"You should, probably, take some of that... ... Whatever it was."
He stops, grabbing your hand as he swings his legs off the side of the bed. He picks up the pharmacy bag and dumps its contents onto his lap. Reads the side of the loose bottle. You shift until you're sitting beside him. Facing you, egs crossed and free hand rubbing at your still raw throat. he somehow magically manages to open the child proof cap one handed, and has two little round pills in his hand when you look over at him. You purse your lips. You don't want that shit. You know what it's for. It's to send you straight up out of it. You don't feel like feeling any more numb than you already are, which really isn't that much right now.
"I don't wanna take 'em."
"You, have to, though."
"No I motherfucking don't." you pout like a child.
"You do."
"You can't make me put them in my motherfucking mouth bro."
He let's go of your hand and grabs one of the sodas with a slight sigh. Opens it. Takes a little sip. Then grabs you by your cheeks, easily and somehow gently forces your mouth open, and shoves the pills inside before forcing it shut. They taste really fucking awful. You don't want to swallow them. You don't want them in your mouth anymore. You force them down as far as they will go and Karkat takes his hand off of your face, handing you the pop can. You chug down about half of it to get the meds to ride on through your esophagus and to get that disgusting taste out of your mouth. You're a little miffed he made you take them but you aren't gonna let it show. You shouldn't be mad at him. He should be mad at you.
You hand him the can. He sets it on the dresser. You hear him sigh. He shifts positions so that he is leaning against the headboard with his legs spread. He takes your wrist in hand and leads you to sit between those legs, giving you a quick hug before fiddling with the tube of lotion. You swallow hard as you hear him uncap it. Watch him squirt some out into his hand.
Rub the very tips of his fingers together to warm it up. You shut your eyes. He's going to keep doing this. Keep taking care of you. He rubs in light circles, going a little rougher when he happens upon a knot or a kink. You don't really want him to. He moves on down to your shoulders once he's finished your throat and his hands are dry. You don't at all deserve it.
You let it happen anyway. He pets you and tells you it's alright, everything is alright, and if it isn't he's gonna make it alright and part of you believes him but most of you is still thinking about how much you wish he hadn't cut you down. Then he falls asleep. You scoot down just a little. Lean your head back on his chest to look up at his face. He is out cold. You know he's a heavy sleeper. You know you could just get up and go off and do whatever. Step in front of a bus. Go tie a new noose. Slit your throat in the kitchen. You don't though. You wrestle the comforter loose from under him, kick off your shoes, and huddle against him with the blanket around both of you, reassuring yourself that you're just putting it off a little longer. That you'll do it later. That you're just tired.
But his lips curl into a smile in his slumber and you quietly accept that you don't much want to do it anymore. That at least one motherfucker would really miss you if you did, and that you wouldn't want to make him feel bad like that. That even if you're not worth a shit someone thinks you are and maybe that can be enough to keep going right now.