98 Days, 10:20 Hours
"This game is fucking bullshit," Karkat stated, examining the room. "We've been at sorting for fucking ninety eight Earth days and we aren't fucking finished."
John shouted some kind of acknowledgement. He was working behind the smog world, and thus out of sight from where Karkat was standing before the Earth photo world. The staircase looked as ridiculously thin as ever. Everything was bullshit.
Even if they were getting close to being done. There was maybe a week left of work for the two of them, so long as he kept John working and not fucking doing nothing. Sorting was like some kind of punishment. Some form of ancient torture he was being subjected to. And the lazy, optimistic fuck of a partner he was stuck with didn't help.
"John get your ass over here," Karkat yelled. As he heard the boy shuffle to his feet, Karkat grabbed the picture world and pushed. But it had to spin. The staircase didn't fucking reach everywhere.
"What's up?" John asked. He had gotten taller, and was a bit awkward when he walked. He was moving his arms oddly as he stood in place.
"I want to spin this world."
At first, John looked confused. But he was getting smarter. "Oh, because of the weird ladder, right?"
"You're fucking brilliant, Egbert."
"Karkat, this world is kinda... ridiculous. Do you think we can?"
It was more than ridiculous, the world was fucking massive and they both knew it. It was kind of a stupid idea, but there had to be some way that these planets moved.
John was already making his way up the weird stairs. Karkat figured the kid had some idea what he was doing, and let him go. So long as John wasn't as much of an idiot as usual, things would go well enough.
"Okay, so our manly pushing will somehow move a sphere the size of a room?" John asked. His voice was a bit quiet, although he was probably yelling. Karkat scowled, knowing that John couldn't see him from the other side of the planet.
"It probably spins on something, you fucking asswipe of a wriggler. I wanna know now before we finish sorting in case we have to get creative."
"Sure thing, oh leader!"
Karkat had to growl at that. He had given up demanding that John stop calling him that, because it did fuck all to stop him. The only good thing about being the leader now was he got to boss John around.
"When I say go, use your spindly human body and push. Got it?"
"Yup!"
"Go."
From his spot on the ground, Karkat heaved, but wasn't really surprised when nothing the fuck happened. The thing didn't even creak. The idiocy of the endeavour hit him, but logically it had to rotate.
He heard John give a small cry of frustration. Karkat wondered if they were even pushing in the same direction. Some leader he was, fucking forgetting a key detail like that. He let out a sigh, beginning to walk over to the side Egbert was on.
"Hey, idiot!"
"Shit!"
A few seconds of silence later, and there was a sickening crunch.
The troll was around the planet in seconds. John was lying on his back. On the floor. Not moving.
"Fucking bulgebuckets of shit Egbert!" Karkat yelled, skidding to a stop beside the boy. "Don't fucking tell me you're dead! What the shit? What if you can't revive?"
John coughed up blood. "I think I broke something."
It was worse than that. There was a mass amount of blood coming from his far leg, and there was white bone showing clearly through his pant.
"John, you're not allowed to die," Karkat spat, feeling himself panic. "You can't die ever."
"Karkat...I'm tired."
Karkat pressed his hands against the giant wound, but the blood didn't stop flowing. What the fuck had it hit? Some form of human bleed out point?
"John, fuck, fuck. You can't die. I can't do this."
"Mm...god..."
John coughed up more blood. Maybe the fuck had hurt something else.
"You bulgesmacked idiot. What if you don't fucking revive? What if you can't anymore because of this hellhole where you can't do the windy thing? What if this is a just death? Fucking shit, Egbert, look at me!"
But John couldn't look.
He wasn't breathing.
Karkat's vision blurred. He grabbed the closest wrist, but it was limp in his hand. There was no pulse to it.
Shit. He wiped his eyes. He had to keep it fucking together. There was nothing to indicate John wouldn't revive this time around. Death was meaningless to him. He'd fucking come back.
Karkat couldn't look at the body. He glanced around the walls, at the stupid pictures they had put up with chalk to try and keep themselves sane. It was a stupid thing then and it was stupid now.
The redness of his hands began to eat away at the troll, and he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to clean them. How the fuck could someone be so stupid to fall? Even if the stairway was ridiculously thin. And had no railing. And the person in question was a fucking awkward thirteen year old boy who was getting too tall.
Fuck. He had to stop thinking about it.
An hour later, John was still lying in a pool of blood. Sorting was almost impossible with the glaring red and blue that John was. He'd revive soon. It was just taking him a while. Like the fuck he was.
After another hour, Karkat lost it.
"The fucking bulgesack is wrong with you! Why did you fall? You cock nursing crack sniffing ass wipe..."
It was too much to insult a corpse. He couldn't find it in himself to fucking cuss John out. The boy was too dead and too limp and it didn't make the troll feel any better. Why the fuck had he died?
"I can't do this, John. Revive."
But John did nothing. He was a fucking corpse.
Karkat sat down beside him, pulled his knees tightly against his chest, and cried.
