CHAPTER NINE
The scariest part of going insane is when you're aware of it and no one else is.
== KARKAT: REMEMBER.
You are Karkat Vantas and you are albino.
== MONTHS INTO THE PAST BUT NOT MANY…
The annoyingly loud blare of your alarm clock is demanding you to wake up. You growl at it for a second before turning it off with a heavy fist. You hear the sharp, clattering sound of metal hitting hard surface and you're pretty sure you just broke your alarm clock. But you do not really give two fucks about that right now; it has served its purpose for the day.
Your body sluggishly slumps out of bed and you shuffle towards the bathroom, tripping over a shoe your stupid dormmate left lying on the floor. Fucking idiot. You pick it up and throw it at the form under the covers of the other bed near your own. You get a pained gurgle in response, justifying that he is in fact an idiot.
"Get up, fuckass!"
"Jeethuth, KK," he stupidly lisps at you from under his League of Legends blanket. He groggily pokes a yellow eye out to look at the clock on his nightstand. "Shit," he grumps as he practically lets himself fall out of bed.
"Hurry up and get dressed, you moronic bag of horse shit," you snap at him. "I'm not gonna be fucking late to work again because of your sorry lispy ass!"
"Ughh, fuck, I'm tho tired…" He groans, rubbing his eyes and not bothering to stand up as he crawls towards the dresser on his stomach. Reaching it, he retrieves the 3D glasses that he insists on wearing every goddamn day. You do not understand this. All you know is that it is retarded. He is retarded.
"Well maybe if you hadn't stayed up through the whole fucking night watching 'THTAR TREK'–" you make a little spazzing motion with your body because that is honestly how you see Sollux in your mind's eye: a spazzing asshole who spends way too much time in front of screens "–for the one-fucking-millionth time, you wouldn't be so tired!"
Walking into the bathroom, you slam the door to prove your point. You make your way to the shower, grumbling unintelligible profanities. Turning on the water, you grimace a bit at the tiny cubicle you call a shower. It is small and inconvenient; your elbows are always hitting the enclosed tile walls, which is saying a lot considering how petite (you will only admit this in your mind) you actually are. But what the hell else do you expect from a scholarship paid dorm?
After you've showered and dressed in the clothes you left in the bathroom the night before, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and try (very unsuccessfully) to tame your wild hair. When you're finished doing all the necessary bullshit of your routine morning, you pause for a moment to examine yourself in the mirror. You narrow your eyes – your ugly mutant red eyes – at what you see; white skin, white hair, white everything. And you hate it. You hate it so much. You like to pretend it doesn't bother you—that the weird looks and rude slanders don't get to you, don't fucking hurt you. But God. They do.
You glare at your reflection before abruptly turning away and slamming the bathroom door open with more force than before. Sollux, who is already dressed and eating cereal, doesn't even wince at this. Living with you for almost a year and having known you for many more, he has grown accustomed to your rather…discordant ways.
You sit down next to Sollux and roughly grab the box of Honey Nut Cheerios, pouring some into your own bowl along with milk. You both eat in silence. Which is not an unusual occurrence, but…today the silence is a bit tense. You can tell something is on Sollux's mind. He keeps looking at you from the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and biting the inside of his bottom lip, like he's contemplating whether or not to speak. You finally decide you've had enough of his behavior.
"What?!" you grumble, squinting at him in question.
His brown eyebrows lift up over his red/blue tinted shades, trying to make out like he's genuinely confused as to what you're inquiring. "What?"
"Don't act like you're not dying to say something, douchebag."
He opens his mouth, only to close it, and then opens it again. Only to close it once more. Your left brow twitches. This seems to help him make up his mind as he sighs in remission. "Well…I wath jutht wondering if…y'know, you maybe thought about what we talked about before…about, you…" He leaves the sentence hanging, but you don't need him to finish. You know what he's referring to. He's referring to about two weeks ago. When he asked you if you could try hiding your albinism, by dying your hair or wearing contacts or 'thomething'.
Sollux has always been embarrassed by the fact that you're different. No, not necessarily that you're different, more that people treat you different because you're different. Understandable. You mean, who would want to be seen associating with the 'little white demon-eyed freak'?
You swallow heavily.
You stare down into your bowl of cereal, appetite gone. Your jaw is clenched, trying to keep the rising knot in your throat at bay, and your grip is tightening around the metal spoon in your hand. You're so sick of this. You're so sick of people being ashamed of you. Even your friend. He can't stand the sight of you. No one can. You don't blame him though. How could you possibly? When you can't stand the sight of yourself either.
You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don't let it get to you.
Eyes still focused on the contents of your bowl, you reply steadily, "Sollux, I told you I didn't want to do that. I don't care what people think about me." You've become quite great at lying over the years.
Your body jolts in surprise as Sollux abruptly stands and harshly pushes his chair back causing it to fall over. "You know what KK, I've tried. I've really fucking tried, to be kind and a friend and all that thtupid shit to you! I've been by your thide thince fucking high thchool! Thticking up for your dumb whitey little ath when everyone elth wath making fun of you! Do you know how much ridicule and taunting I've had to put up with becauth of that? All I athked for wath one thmall fucking favor—for you to jutht try being Goddamn normal! And you can't even fucking do that!"
You sit there for a moment staring at him with blank eyes as he glares down at you. You're not even shocked. You're very aware of Sollux's bipolarity, and these outbursts have happened more than once in the past. You're also very aware that even if his accusations are provoked by his unstable state of mind, they are true. You know all of this. And the truth fucks you up because you hate it.
You slip a curt "fuck you" before getting up, throwing your bowl of barely eaten cereal into the sink, and rushing out of your stupid cramped dorm. Oh well, you need to get to work. Sollux can walk alone without you. You're sure he'd like that anyway.
The usually fifteen minute walk to work only takes you about seven, considering how fast you're walking today. You speed through and around people with your head down the whole way to the coffee shop. You feel even more self-conscious about yourself after your little spat with Sollux. You think, if you keep your head down so no one can see your eyes then maybe, just maybe, people will think you're just some pale hipster kid who bleaches his hair white. Maybe.
You finally reach your place of employment, and still lost in thought, you fail to notice the larger man exiting the door as you swiftly walk to enter. You both collide and fall to the ground. Getting up quickly, and shaking your head to zone back into reality, you realize the man you bumped into is Equius. You don't know him very well, other than the few times you've seen him walking around your college campus with a much smaller and excitable girl at his side.
He still seems to be a bit shocked by the collision, so you offer him your hand to help him up. He looks up at you and recognition fills his eyes. He pulls a pinched, disgusted face and shakes your hand away, like it's the most offensive, degrading piece of shit he's ever had the unfortunate luck to come across. Using his strong legs to get up on his own with no effort whatsoever, he sneers at you, "How putrid. Do not touch me," and then shoves past you almost sending you back down. You stumble to regain your balance as Equius disappears from your line of sight.
You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don't let it get to you.
Shuffling into the shop, you make your way through the busy and chaotic atmosphere to clock in and start taking orders at the register. As you pass a couple tables, you're aware of people staring and you swear that you hear silent snickers being thrown in your direction. You ignore them. But it's almost impossible to ignore the distinctive, rasping voice of Terezi as you pass by her and her table group.
"Look! It's Karcrab the unfriendly ghost!" Her obnoxious cackle rings through the entire café, soon to be joined by others who heard the joke and decided to twist the knife that was already in your chest. Metaphorically, of course. You try to tune it out as her lips move, speaking slurs at you. It's like this every day. Terezi uses her loud mouth to bash you in public, and ultimately make you feel like an even bigger piece of shit than you already do.
You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don't let it get to you.
Disregarding the most unruly of customers,you walk behind the counter, take your work apron off of its hook, and then stand behind the register looking as unamused as you feel. Come to think of it, your boss is always chastising you about that, some shit about "scaring away the customers." You wish you gave a fuck.
After you ring up the first few orders, you're more than ready to leave. The day had barely just begun and you've already been insulted and glared at more times than you can count. It's exhausting.
You keep your head down most of the time, only looking up to take orders and hand your clients their damned scones and shitty coffee. You've never really enjoyed its bitter taste and being around it for so long, every single day, you're certain that you'll never get used to the stuff.
You hate your job. And you hate the people who surround you at your job. But you're glad you even have one…it's apparently difficult for people to look past your 'condition' and actually hire you, so you guess you got lucky with this shithole. There's really only one thing that helps you get through your days without going fucking postal on everyone's ass. Well…two. But you like to pretend it's just one, because you don't need any more complications in your life.
Speaking of that one, you spot him sauntering through the coffee shop doors. His back is lazily slouched, yet he still manages to almost hit his head against the top of the threshold—the tall fucker. His wild, black hair is all askew and longer in random areas, framing his painted face like some sort of fucking demon-lion. He's obviously wearing the same thing he slept in, you conclude, acknowledging his purple, faded 'Faygo' t-shirt and his wrinkled black sweatpants. He's a mess. A Goddamn fucking slob is what he is. Yet you're blushing. And that exact blush reaches further across your face and up your ears when his droopy eyes light up, spotting you. You instantly frown. He smiles. Fuck him.
He looks down to his right and speaks a few words that are unintelligible to you from your distance. And that's when you realize he did not walk in alone. Tavros is with him. He's been Gamzee's bestfriend since before you ever even met the crazy bastard. You kinda hate that. Come to think of it, you kinda hate Tavros. Sure he's a nice guy, if not frustratingly always nervous and indecisive, but he pisses you off. How he's always just there. With Gamzee. Can't he just roll his wheelchair around and off a cliff or something? Wow. That was a really douchey thing of you to think. You are totally not jealous. Because that would be stupid. And incredibly immature. And those are two things Karkat Vantas is definitely NOT. Obviously.
You're still holding a rant within your mind when you feel a light touch of fingers lift up your chin. You are now looking at a closer smiling Gamzee. When the hell did he walk over here? You don't get to further delve into the answers to that question. Not only because it was rhetoric, but also because Gamzee has just leaned over the counter and attached his lips to yours. And holy-motherfucking-nutsack, you melt into a pathetic puddle of all the stupidly strong feelings you have for this tall as fuck moron. Every time he kisses you, you're reminded of what Woodstock would've been like—full of drugs and sex. And that is basically what kissing Gamzee is; the lingering odor of the weed he smoked last night before he fell asleep combined with the languorous, open-mouthed kiss he always gives you as a greeting. You think you might cry when he pulls away. But now is not the time for sloppy makeouts with your boyfriend. Sadly.
"How're you up and doing on this miraculous morning, you little cute motherfucker?" He asks in his usual whimsical manner as his long fingers card through your hair. Your frown deepens, trying to pull off that you're not enjoying the attention he's giving you. Thank God he knows better.
"Shitty as ever, but that's kind of obvious considering the rotten, maggot-eaten shit for brains that I'm forced to deal with in this sad excuse for a coffee serving establishment," you huff.
"Aw, Karbro, you can't let these motherfuckers get up into your head. You just gotta all motherfucking ignore the motherfuckers who be sayin' things. They don't understand the miracles of life," before you can berate Gamzee about his annoying way of speaking, he continues, "like you." And you die a bit inside. Because he's so nice to you when you're such an asshole. It makes you hate yourself a little more. In lack of a response, you instead make a face at him and look down, pretending to study the numbers on the register.
"Ayyyyye!" Someone shouts from one of the tables, making you look up instantly. Sollux has shuffled through the entrance, visibly bristling up from the cold outside. He beelines towards his friends, who, you realize, consist of a couple of snot-nosed nerds and the miscreant who shouted unnecessarily. You scowl at the disruption and hear Gamzee snicker in your ear.
You see Sollux go up to the table, giving them all friendly greetings and fist-bumps; obviously ignoring you for his better friends. Your face slips into a hurt expression for only half a second. And of course your intuitive fucker of a boyfriend catches it, stopping his snickering.
"Y'all get up into another fight?" Gamzee asks lightly.
Your eyebrows knit together as you look back up at Gamzee. "Fuck him," is all you say and you leave it at that. He lifts one of the corners of his mouth, in an almost smirk, and leans down to kiss where your eyebrows are still narrowed, relaxing them back into place.
"Fuck him," he confirms. "'Cause I'll always be the motherfucker that's there for you."
He's smiling down at you—that fucking smile that kills you with how perfect it is and how much you really really really like Gamzee and how it makes you feel and—
"And Dave."
His smile drops before you can even finish saying his name. Before you even realize you're saying his name. Because of course, you being the fucked up person that you are had to bring him up. Why did you even say that? What in the ever unloving hell is your issue?
"I-I mean…yeah, I know. I know you'll always be there for me," you try to cover your slip-up. You're looking him straight in the eye, because you want him to understand that you mean it. You know he'll be there—always—for you.
His previously tightened jaw loosens again, but as you continue to stare into each other's eyes you can see he's still peeved; his pupils are dilated, showing only a thin line of indigo surrounding. You look at him hopelessly, yet hoping that he'll realize how much he means to you—Dave or no Dave.
"Heeeeeeeey, Makara," you hear someone drawl out incitingly. Both of your eyes snap away from each other and go to focus on the most unpleasant of interruptions (well, at least to you). Of course, it's none other than Vriska Serket inappropriately smirking at your boyfriend, whose face unnoticeably tightens once again. She leans against the counter, tilting her head obnoxiously, to get a better look at him. "Coming to my party tonight?" She makes it a point to ignore you.
You uncomfortably shift from foot to foot. Why does she have to be so close?
"Uh, well," Gamzee stutters. He briefly nods his head in your direction. "I'll go only if my special motherfucker here can come." And with a lazy smile, that was the extent of his response.
Your face fucking heats up at the incredibly annoying sight of Vriska dramatically rolling her eyes and groaning, as if your very presence at her stupid party would be the worst thing to happen to her. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to invite this freak?" she rudely juts her thumb in your direction, still not sparing you a glance.
Gamzee's face deadpans. His nostrils visibly flare and his lips tighten as he stares Vriska straight in the eyes.
Oh shit.
"Now you up and listen here, bitch. Ain't no motherfuckers allowed to talk about Karkat in that sort of way. Just 'cause he's different doesn't mean he's not a better person than you'll ever motherfucking be. And next time I hear you, or anyone for that matter, speaking shit like that about my Karbro, I'll make a motherfucker wish they hadn't. Y'hear me, Serket?"
She scoffs and lets out a snort of disbelief. "Why you choose to lower yourself to such pathetic standards, I will neeeeeeeever understand. But whatever…you can drag the doughboy along. Just don't be late, Makara… Well, on second thought," she lets her cold, blue eyes fleetingly glance at you in disgust before looking back at Gamzee, "take your time." Turning around with a sneer thrown in your direction, she walks away flicking her hair at you.
As soon as you see her ass walk out of the coffee shop, you grumble, "I'm not going to her damned party." You look down and busy your hands with stacking and restacking the coffee cups near your station; unnecessary bullshit, but anything to distract yourself from the previous encounter.
"Listen Kar, I don't like her either—bitch is all up and discombobulated in the motherfucking thinkpan or some shit—" you find yourself making a small grunt in agreement, head still down "—but we should still go, just to up and eat the bitchtits out of her food."
"No."
"C'mon, Karbro," he whines, leaning in closer towards your face. "We can leave early and go back to my place…" he lets the sentence suggestively linger in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. And fuck if you will ever admit to actually thinking over his offer.
You look up at him and open your mouth, ready to righteously tell him hell-fucking-no you will not go to Vriska's stupid fucking party. Go for what? So that Gamzee can choose the free drugs over you and leave you to fend for yourself in a house full of people who wouldn't want to talk you anyway? Or worse yet, so you can hold Gamzee back from actually having a good time?
Nope. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
You're totally ready to shoot him down too, that is, until you actually speak, "...you promise we'll leave early?" Fuck. Why couldn't you just say no?
He smiles like a huge dope at you, content with your response. "Motherfucking yeah—I swear it, brother!" His grin suddenly smooths down into a sultry smirk before he leans down, lips so close to touching the shell of your ear. "I promise you'll have fun...and then we can go home and have our own kinda fun...karbabe," his deep voice purrs the last word. Jesus fucking Christ. He knows how it gets to you when he calls you that...even if you pretend it annoys you.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Gamzee," you breathe as you cover your face with your hands. He tilts his head down and chuckles against your neck, kissing it sweetly. The heat of his breath against your skin does not help to quell your titillated blush at all. Sighing, you move a hand to run through his voluminous hair and bring it to the side of his head, gently lifting it so that you're looking at his face again—he leans against your touch.
"Ugh, get a room," you both are suddenly startled by Sollux's scolding voice as he makes his way to his working area behind the briefly looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, before he squares them back on you and smiles softly. He breathes a short laugh through his nose and straightens up from leaning towards you over the counter.
"Well, I guess I should up and get on my way to the studio. M'workin' on another big painting, so I need all the time I can get to make it motherfucking miraculous," his eyes noticeably light up at the mention of his art work. That's one of your favorite things about Gamzee—how passionate he gets when it comes to the things he loves, namely his art. It's honestly what attracted you to him in the first place; you wanted him to look at you like you were his own work of art.
"W-well then get going, fuckass," you try to grouse at him but it ends up sounding pathetic thanks to your stutter, because shit you're still blushing.
"Alright, I'm goin', I'm goin'...but not before this," he dips over the counter again and claims your lips in a sloppy and inappropriate-as-fuck kiss. You know he's overdoing it just to piss off Sollux, and you love it. Finally after basically making-out with your boyfriend (on the fucking job) he ends the kiss. "Pick you up at nine tonight," he informs you with a wink and then turns to leave.
You watch him as he makes his way to the the glass doors of the cafe. Just as he's about to exit, you notice someone else enter and obstruct his way. Gamzee visibly bristles in reaction to whoever it is. And when he moves to the side, you see it's none other than Dave. Of course.
They are slow in passing each other as they stare at one another challengingly. Gamzee turns his head to follow Dave in, allowing you to see the twitch of his upper lip and his eyebrows scrunched together. Dave's face remains impassive as he gets his shoulder rammed into by the taller male. His only acknowledgment of Gamzee is an ironic two-fingered salute thrown in the direction of his retreating back.
You focus on Dave now, as he slowly makes his way to where you're standing behind the register. God-fucking-damn it, you are not in the mood for him right now so you look away and try to busy yourself with the spare supplies in the plastic bags that litter the underside of the counter before you. Doing so also gives the impression that you may actually be working and are not to be disturbed. You take out a couple of plastic cups and set them on the counter above your head, risking a glance over it to see Dave, now much closer than he was before, leaning down against the counter with a fist under his chin. His dark sunglasses are perched comfortably on his nose and it annoys you, the cheeky ass motherfucker.
He sees you, crouched awkwardly as you are, and smirks. "Well, you're looking as lovely as a fucking spring flower today, Karkitten," he picks up the pen you keep by the register, playing with it, "...and I see Princess Gam-Gam is doing peachy as usual."
You sigh heavily before standing back up and glaring at him. "Shut up, Strider. You know you piss him off."
He stops and points the end of the pen at you. "Only 'cause he knows you want some of this hella fine D. Strider."
You let out a flustered huff. Because seriously, how are you even supposed to respond to that?
"Oh no, I forgot," he picks up an empty cup and starts writing on it. "I know we can't speak of our forbidden love out here in public but…" Dave hands you back the cup, continuing, "Here is a token of my love that you shall cherish until our next secret rendezvous."
You snatch the cup out of his hand roughly and look at it. In Dave's ugly scrawl, it reads Dave + Karkat = Babies. You feel your entire face heat up in a stupidly uncontrollable blush. "The only thing that should be forbidden here is your stupidity!"
"Save the dirty talk for the honeymoon, babe," he suggests, as you absentmindedly notice him resume to rearrange the other supplies on the counter.
"Are you going to buy some shitty coffee or did you just walk in here to make my ears bleed with all the bullshitlery that you constantly insist on drowning me in?"
"Both is good," you think he winked. "But yeah, I could go for a tall white chocolate mocha."
"'Tall white chocolate mocha.' Could you be anymore fucking pretentious?" you grumble as you snatch the pen out of his hand so you can write his name and order on a cup. He quirks an eyebrow at you with his dumb, attractive poker face before turning away and walking to the table where Terezi is seated. Asshole didn't even pay.
You stare after him for a few seconds before shaking your head and 'forgetting' to input his order in the computer. You've honestly lost count of the times you've let Dave get away with free coffee. And you should really look into not being such a goddamn pushover.
You're about to re-stack all of the scattered cups that Strider was messing with until you notice the writing. You pick one up and it has your name on it. All of them have your name. A growl rises up your throat as you shout at the nimrod casually sitting across the room, "STRIDER!"
"Sup," he says simply, jerking his chin up in your direction before turning back to the conversation he was having at his table. He pisses you off so much. And fuck, do you wish you could hate him. Heaven knows you've tried. But there's always been something about Dave… something that you try not to think about.
Once you've finished making Strider's coffee, you tread through the aisles of tables to go hand it to the douchebag. You would've asked Sollux to do it, but you don't exactly feel comfortable speaking with him at the moment. As you make your way to Dave, you trip over someone's foot and try to hide your wince as the same person's leg kicks you to the ground. The coffee cup you were once holding has spilt all over your shirt and the floor. You look up and—oh, Ampora. You're not surprised.
"Watch where you're goin', Kar," his stupid accent chides.
You strain to ignore the surrounding laughter as you attempt to hastily stand back up...only to trip again, but on spilt coffee this time. The laughter around you grows more boisterous and you feel like such a pathetic joke. You can feel some stubborn tears trying to make their way out of your eyes. You will not let them see you cry though. They already think you're weak. You refuse to prove them right.
You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don't let it get to you.
== BE DAVE.
Your name is Dave Strider and you are in love with Karkat Vantas.
So, of course, watching the entire coffee shop, including your friends, laugh at his humiliation is afflicting you more than you wish it could. You turn your head from side to side scrunching your eyebrows in disbelief at everyone around you. You don't get how people could be so cruel.
You spot Terezi next to you, face red with laughter. "What the fuck, Tez? It's not funny," you attempt to scold her.
"Lighten up, cool kid! How can you not laugh? Look at how retarded he looks," she brushes you off, trying to speak between snorts. Well. You know who you don't want to be friends with anymore.
"This is fucked up," you say, getting up out of your seat to help Karkat. You stride over to him and crouch down. He recoils and looks up startled when he feels you place a hand on his back. His eyes are glazed over with unshed tears and shit please don't cry.
"Come on, Kitkat. Let's get you out of here," you murmur, gingerly helping him up. As you walk towards the exit doors, you ignore everyone's shouts and groans of disapproval. If they want entertainment they can go on fucking YouTube. Or go fuck themselves. Either/or, really.
Once you've made it outside, you lead Karkat towards a bench. You're surprised and kind of confused when he pushes away from you. You mean, really? No 'thank you' smooch? No running off into the sunset? What is this. Disney lied.
"You didn't have to fucking save me! I was perfectly capable of handling it myself," he hisses at you, distracting any further thought-ramble from continuing in your head. You raise a single brow and continue to stare at him as he sits down on the bench and tries to scrub at his wet shirt with a napkin he took out of his pocket. "...Now I'm gonna smell like shitty, pretentious coffee…" you hear him grumble under his breath, and you can't help but let out a snort of amusement.
You move to sit next to him before replying, "yeah, well, you looked like you needed some saving. And a gallant hero, such as myself, couldn't have possibly left a damsel in distress, such as yourself, to fend off such villainous evil all on your own, y'know?"
You don't realize he's staring at you until you turn to look at him after a while of getting no response. His face is blank other than a slight twitch of an eyebrow. You counter him with your own poker face. His eyes tighten slightly, still looking at you almost expectantly. But you guess he isn't satisfied with what he sees because he gives up, looking away and sighing heavily into his seat.
"I'm not completely helpless, you know?"
You know. "I know."
He turns to face you again. "No, Dave, I don't think you really do know. I literally deal with this kind of shit everyday. And that's just it—I deal with it. The insults, the name-calling, the reminders that I'm not normal—it's practically, no not practically, it is a part of my life. So, no, Dave. You don't know," he informs you. He doesn't bark it, or yell it, or screech it at your face. He informs you. Like he's teaching you a fucking overt fact of life. Like he deserves it.
You feel sick.
You sit there for a moment, thinking about what he just said. You examine his eyes behind your aviators—eyes that are so familiar with their bright red hue and stark white lashes. You think about how fucking brave he is. And how you wish you were that brave.
"You're right," you begin, voice steady, "I don't know." Karkat's head tilts to the side a bit and his eyebrows narrow in slight confusion. "I don't know because I'm a fucking scared as shit pussy."
"Wha—" he goes to speak, but cuts himself off when you remove your shades. And oh shit you just did that. "Dave…" Karkat breathes and it almost sounds like he's scared. His eyes are wide and you can't tell if it's sympathy, disappointment, or just plain pity that he's feeling towards you right now.
Your lips roll inwards before you let out a breath to continue speaking. "I don't know what it's like to be constantly put down because of what I look like...but I do know what it's like to live with the fact that you're not the same as everyone else. I get it. I get that internal struggle. So when I look at you, and I see that you don't try to hide what you look like...it gets me wishing that I could be half as strong as you, Karkat." You look him earnestly in the eyes, because you really want him to understand.
He opens his mouth and doesn't say anything, just kind of stares at you like he's looking for something. His staring, topped with the fact that you're not wearing your sunglasses, makes you feel incredibly vulnerable, a feeling you work to avoid daily.
When he finally does something, he doesn't speak, but instead pulls you into a tight hug. You're confused for a moment, because you were really not expecting this reaction. But before you know it, your arms are also around him, bringing him in closer. His smaller body against yours feels so warm and right and Jesus-fucking-christ you love him so much and you wish you could tell him and you're about to until—
"Karkat! Get back in here! In cathe you forgot, it'th altho your shift!"
Fucking Sollux.
You're facing away from the door (thank God), so you quickly place your shades back on before anyone else can see your red eyes. Karkat looks up at the 'little lisper who could' before rolling his eyes and snarking back, "Whatever. I'll be in there in a minute." Sollux narrows his eyes for a moment before turning to go back inside.
Karkat pulls away from your embrace and you hesitate to let go, but you realize it may come off as creepy if you don't. So, with great reluctance, you unravel your arms from around him and scoot over a bit to give him space.
"Uh. I guess you should head back inside. Don't wanna get you in trouble or anything…" you mumble, and you feel really awkward about yourself right now.
"Yeah, I need to get back to work before Mr. Lisps-a-lot has a fucking aneurism," he grunts as you both stand up. You snicker at the disgruntled look on his face. You know he's feeling better if he can conjure up that spit-fire feistiness that you find so fucking charming.
"Sooo, I guess I won't be seeing you at Vriska's little fiesta tonight…" you let the sentence linger on as a question.
"Unfortunately, I'll actually be there," he says flatly, rolling his eyes. You're glad he can't see your own eyes light up behind your shades at the prospect of seeing him again tonight. "I'm going with Gamzee. The idiot said he wouldn't go unless I went with him." And that is when you once again are reminded that Karkat is in a relationship with the one guy you can honestly say you hate. This reality always hits you hard, but the fact that a few minutes ago you were so close to confessing your feelings to him makes this realization hurt tenfold.
"Oh." And that is the extent of your response.
Karkat just looks at you and bites his bottom lip, and for a moment you think he's on to you. "Yeah...so I'll see you later, I guess," he finally speaks. With a little wave in your direction, he turns to walk inside.
"Yeah...see you," you faintly reply to his retreating back. He doesn't hear you.
== BE KARKAT.
HOURS INTO THE FUTURE BUT NOT MANY…
"I can't believe I actually let you drag me to this dick crimping party," you growl under your breath as Gamzee leads you by the hand through the crowd of overly testosteroned and hormonal college kids getting shit-faced drunk. You can feel their criticizing eyes and their disapproving whispers follow everywhere Gamzee drags you. You don't think you're welcome, and you feel pretty uncomfortable to say the least.
"Aw c'mon, Kar. We just up and got here, you might actually motherfucking enjoy yourself," he responds while pulling you to sit on a couch in the far side of the living room where most of the party is taking place. The music is loud and obnoxious, the air smells like piss and alcohol, the girls are scantily clothed and the guys are dressed like the stereotypical tool, and you really, really, do not think you'll be enjoying yourself at any point in time tonight—at least not here.
You don't feel like socializing with anyone and you're pretty damn sure no one wants to be within five feet of you. So you basically sit on the couch next to Gamzee, awkwardly sipping some water for a whole waste of an hour, watching as everyone else around you has fun making asses of themselves.
Gamzee pulled out his weed not too long after arriving and the heavy smell is kind of pissing you off. You honestly wish his cheap drugs would have the same affect on you that they obviously have on him, but all they ever do is make your eyes itchy and your throat dry.
You can tell the drugs are getting to him when you have to start warding off his wandering hands and yell at him to stop trying to make-out with you. You're not going to lie, you usually enjoy the sort of aphrodisiac effect weed gives Gamzee. And trust you...you have definitely taken advantage of it in the past; much more times than you could admit without developing a red face. But he doesn't seem to understand that being surrounded by people who are constantly sending dirty looks in your direction, kind of makes you not want to participate in any PDA. Not in front of them, thank you very much.
You slouch into your seat, sighing. Because wow this is such a bullshit way to spend your night. Why you ever agreed to come, you'll never understand. You silently send a 'fuck you' to Past Karkat. What an idiot, thinking you'd be fine at a college party—Vriska Serket's party nonetheless. You sigh again, this time more dramatically, hoping that maybe your already stoned-as-fuck boyfriend will get the message that you want to leave. He seems to have noticed your not-so-subtle show of annoyance because he's turned his head to look at you questioningly.
"What's up, Kar?"
You don't know whether you want to slap him for being so dense or kiss him for being so fucking adorably confused. You opt for neither. "You said we would leave early. It's early. Let's leave," you grouse at him.
Gamzee's eyebrows knit together and he makes a little 'o' shape with his mouth, looking as lost as ever. He stays like that for a while and you just stare back at him with the most unamused facial expression you can conjure. Which really isn't that difficult of a task. Suddenly his face loosens and he's back to smiling that lazy, nonsensical grin at you. You're about to repeat yourself, a bit more aggressively this time, before he cuts in with a guttural laugh. "Naw, Karbro," his eyes glaze over and you know he's at the peak of his high, "y'all gotta up and get your motherfucking relax on. Ain't no wonder a motherfucker is so bitchin' uptight. No fuckin' worries though, brother, I got just the motherfucking magic you need…"
You raise a brow as you watch him rummage a hand through his pockets. What the fuck is he doing?
Before you know it, Gamzee is shoving a plastic bag containing what looks like a single sugarcube towards you. You're instantly confused. Does he really think a fucking sugarcube is going to help you have a better time at this shitty party? The idiot really must be high. "What the fuck, Gamzee?"
"No, no, Karbro, you don't motherfucking get it. This wicked shit'll make you feel like the most miraculous of motherfuckers," he slurs and pushes the bag closer to you.
"What the hell is that, Gamzee?! Get it out of my face!" you bark at him, shoving the gross plastic bag away. What the actual fuck is up with him?
The corners of his already smiling lips pull up even more. "It's Yellow Sunshine; motherfuckin' Looney Toons, brother," he laughs again like you just asked the most absurd question and the answer to it should have been obvious. This is around the same time you start to get the feeling it's not any ordinary sugarcube in that bag.
==DAVE: LOITER NEAR THE KITCHEN.
You, Dave Strider, are standing in a doorway like an awkward taco in a busy Chinese restaurant. You don't know where to go, or who to talk with, but at least you are very, very es-spicy. You aren't really sure how that helps but it's a fact that you look hot tonight. And facts are like science. And science is truth. Preach it, you think, taking a nonchalant sip of your apple juice which you've cleverly poured into a red solo cup to give the impression you are drinking. Ha, who would actually drink at this stupid party?
You ironically bob your head along to the terrible music, trying your hardest to look busy on your phone. Although, you glance up frequently because where you're standing has the most convenient view of the front door. You'd hate to admit you're waiting for a certain someone to arrive but yeah, let's be real, you're totally waiting for Karkat.
When you finally spot him, he's being dragged through the front door by his freaky juggalo boyfriend. From your distance, you can tell Karkat is grouching at Gamzee about something, and you let yourself smirk for a moment. Give him hell, you think to yourself. But your amusement is quickly washed away as your eyes zone in on their joined hands. You automatically divert your gaze and suck in a large amount of breath before letting it out.
Wow, the idea of them being together was nothing compared to actually seeing them together. They'd do stupid "boyfriend-o" things like hold hands and snuggle together on the couch, while all you do is watch Gamzee isolate Karkat and get all buzzed and whisper to him and start to grope him and make out with him and—
You squeeze the cup in your hand a little tighter and swallow.
Once unsure of how to spend your fantastic time at this party, you finally decide to stay sober (unfortunately) and pretty much just watch them while seething in your jealousy. Gamzee didn't deserve Karkat. He's never treated him right—hell if he's even aware half of the time he's with Karkat and not high and irrational like always. Come to think of it, though, you've never actually "experienced" Gamzee sober. You snort. Fucking clown.
So, here you've been, hovering around the same area for about an hour now. Aaaaand, basically you're stalking Karkat. Wow. You can quite honestly admit to yourself how pathetic you've become at this point. Like Jesus fuck bro, there is a crush and then there is an obsession. You mean, you're not like creepy old man next door with a fetish for cute little boys in a skirt type obsession or nothing. But damn son, you need to get your life together, which you contemplate for a moment...before going back to sneaking glances in Gamkar's direction. In a very non-obvious and cool way, of course. So low-profile. Shit be inconspicuous as a James Bond. Well...more like Austin Powers, in your case.
Sudden movement on the couch catches your attention and when you focus, Karkat is very animatedly speaking with his hands at Gamzee, who shakes his head and smiles. You see him pull something out and hand it to the little Grouch. Ew, anything that is in a wrinkly, old plastic bag in Gamzee's pocket is probably not good for anyone. But when you zero in on its contents, you freeze.
What is that? Why would that clown give him that? Karkat isn't really going to take that fucking thing, is he?
You notice Karkat's eyebrows furrow in curiosity as he reaches his hand out towards the bag.
NO. NOPE. NOT TODAY, SON.
You march your Strider-self right up to them and tower over their sitting bodies in a very fucking authoritative manner, if you do say so yourself. "Uhhhhh, what's this," you quip, flicking the bag dangling in Gamzee's hand. He turns to you and it takes the brain-fart a moment to realize who you are before he frowns and moves his hand away from you. Karkat merely looks between the two of you, slightly amused and slightly annoyed.
"It's what's gonna make my Karbro feel motherfucking wicked." You hide your wince at his use of personal pronouns when referring to Karkat.
"So basically you're giving him drugs," you deadpan.
He glares at you before slurring, "...motherfuck off." How profound. This guy right here is the next winner of the Nobel Prize. Ain't no Barbara Parks or Charles Dickens got shit on this guy. True man of words, he is.
That still doesn't mean you're backing off, prodigy of words or not.
"Nope." See, you can be profound too.
"Fuckin' go awaaay," he grouches back at you like a little child and it takes so much effort on your part not to laugh. Well, you're not making much headway with the clown, so you turn to look at Karkat.
"Karkat. You aren't going to take this shit," you declare with the finality of a stern father. Bro would be proud.
"Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?" he fumes. And, ouch. Who are you? Well okay then.
"Dude. Don't be a dumbass. You can't handle whatever the fuck is in that sleazy bag—" And you realize you've probably said the wrong thing when you see Karkat's eyes tighten and his narrowed eyebrows twitch in anger.
"I can do whatever the fucking shit I want, Strider!" He barks at you and reaches to snatch the plastic bag out of Gamzee's hands. Before you can even get another word in, he's already shoved his hand into the bag and stuffed the "sugarcube" into his mouth defiantly.
You open your lips to retort, but looking down at his indignant face, you know it's a worthless effort. "You know what, fuck it. Do what you want, Karkat," you sigh in disappointment. Whether it's disappointment at Karkat, you, or even Gamzee, you don't know. Usually you wouldn't give up so quickly, but dealing with them together is emotionally draining and you honestly don't feel like you can take it anymore.
You decide not to dwell on it as you walk away from them, getting lost in the crowd.
== KARKAT: DO WHAT YOU WANT.
At first, nothing happens and the feeling is a mixed one. On one hand you really, really want the drug to have an effect on you...but on the other, you're kind of afraid of what those effects might be. So you just get comfortable next to Gamzee and let whatever the fuck you just consumed do whatever the fuck it will.
Time passes and you gradually begin to feel light headed and hazy. You're not sure how long it's been since you ate the sugarcube, but it feels like each minute that goes by is longer than the next.
Slowly you start to feel weird...somehow disconnected. Your body feels light...like you have no body. Like you are here but not here at the same time. Time. Time has no meaning. Your consciousness is outside of time. Yet, you can hear it. Tick, tick, tick, tick… The sound surrounds youand now you can seeit—you can see time. It's in the air and it's swirling around like a whirlpool. There are strange symbols coming in and out of the atmosphere and you don't know what they mean so you laugh at them. They leave different colored sparks as they all suddenly disappear at once.
You look to your side and see Gamzee is no longer next to you. When did he leave? Where did he go? Who were you looking for again? Was it that floating figure on the ceiling? No, you don't think it was. But you think you're going to stare at it for a little while. It's now twisting and vibrating around the room, expanding until it is the room.
You're now looking out into the crowd of people. People? Oh. Yeah. You're at a party. You laugh again, this time at your silliness. Dragging your eyes around the room, you notice everyone looks a little strange. They have long, sharp orange horns growing out of their heads. And their skin...is grey. And their teeth...are pointed. Then again, this isn't all too strange. Actually, you think this is what they always looked like. You think they look better this way. You giggle because there you go again, being silly.
"Hey, Karkat." You hear a voice and it sounds like it's coming from every direction in different pitches and waves. You disregard the idea of finding who or what it came from, and instead follow the rifts and ruffles the sound creates in the air. It's bouncing against the walls in slow motion and causing your body to sway along with it.
"Karkaaaat," you hear again in various echoed whispers. This time you actually turn your head to look for the voice. And there are people. They are standing in front of you but you can't make out their faces. You can't make out anything actually. They're all black, black figures. Although...familiar black figures. And the next voices that speak are quite familiar also.
"Aww, look at him."
"Is he high?"
"Hahah, oh my God, I think he is."
You hear whispers and cackles of laughter around you. You keep turning your head from left to right, not exactly sure who is saying what.
"Hey, Kar, you should come with us. We wanna show you somethin'."
Huh. You don't get it. What do they want? Maybe you should ask them. "Whaaa...hahah...heh," wait, what were you going to say?
"Yeah, Karcrab, come with us. We'll show you a good time for sure, buddy!" This voice breaks out into laughter along with the others and you join in. They must be laughing at the swirling colored flowers in the sky. Yeah, you think those are great.
You're not aware that you're standing until you feel yourself moving. There's an arm around your waist leading you towards some sort of churning portal. And the voices are still surrounding you, following you. You realize the portal is actually a door once you've gotten closer. Hm. Where are these dark figures taking you? You hope it's somewhere fun, with more swirling colors.
The figures lead you through the door. And everything is dark. You can't even see the black figures anymore, but you can feel them. You're confused. Why did they bring you here? You don't understand how this is fun.
"Lock the door," someone whispers behind you.
"Lock the...door?" you croak. You hear a slam and then a click. And then you're being pushed down. You land on something soft and bouncy and it takes you a few seconds to realize you are now on a bed. It takes you a little longer to also realize that the figures around you have tied you down. You try moving your arms and legs out of their restraints, but your body is incredibly weak at the moment.
You don't know what's going on and now you're starting to get scared as the figures loom over you.
"It's time you learn your place in the world, Kittykat."
== BE GAMZEE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THIS CHAPTER
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you have no idea where the motherfuck your boyfriend is. You kind of lost him after your large intake of the miraculous pot you brought with you. But now you're thinking it wasn't so motherfucking miraculous if it caused you to lose track of your Karbro. Maybe the little miracle went home without frown a bit at don't like the idea of him wandering around on his own. So you quickly make a decision to go look for him. Before you go though, you definitely need a miracle weed reboot, so you rummage in your pocket to find your stash.
But. You can't find it. Motherfuck.
You look up disappointedly and the number of bodies jumping and moving around so quickly makes you feel sick. Scanning them, Karkat is nowhere to be seen and you're now starting to panic. You move to start searching around the house, but before you can get two steps in you're stopped by a stupid white monkey. Motherfucking Strider.
"Yo. Where's Vant-ass?"
You give him your best glare and push him aside. Ain't nobody got time for motherfucking assholes. But of course, he follows you. And when he grabs you by the shoulder you have to do everything not to flip him over a table. "Back the fuck up," you snarl at him and jesus-motherfucking-messiahs his blank expression is pissing you off.
"Yeah, uh, no. Where is he?" You'll rip that raised eyebrow off his face.
"I don't think that's any of your motherfucking concern," you growl. The combination of Dave's annoying existence and the fact that you don't know where the hell Karkat is, is most definitely helping to sober you.
"The fuck it's not," he counters. And you're really getting sick of Dave always getting in the middle of things that have to do with Karkat.
"You don't mean NOTHING to him so get the MOTHERFUCK OUT OF MY FACE," you forcefully push him back. He barely stumbles before regaining his step and you silently curse his being.
"Don't tell me you fucking lost him...because I swear on your spot in Hell, if you lost him while he's on the drugs that you gave him I'll—"
You don't hear the rest of what he's saying as an overwhelming sense of dread comes over you. Because you just remembered that you gave Karkat your drugs. And not just any motherfucking drugs. Your dumb bitch ass gave him LSD.
Shit.
== BE KARKAT AGAIN.
"Ple...please, noooo," you wail in agony. You're crying and what they're doing to you hurts so much.
"Shut the fuck up!" One of the dark figures slaps you really hard and now the side of your face stings.
There are so many hands on you—so so so many hands. Touching your body, making you touch their bodies, grabbing you, hitting you, scratching you, pulling your hair out, shoving things into you. Treating you like a—
"Whore!" One of the black figures bellows above you and it hurts your ears, "You're just a stupid whore!"
"That's all he's ever been good for, only good for being an obedient little slut!" The voices burst into uncontrollable laughter. As you burst into uncontrollable tears. Because their words hurt so much more than the things they're doing to you. The things they're putting into you. Their words only confirm how tainted you are; you will never be dirt free.
"Oh shit I think he's actually enjoying this! Are you getting off on this, Karcrab? Damn, you really are a fucking cheap whore."
No. You want to tell them no, you do not like this. But all you manage is a weak, dry sob. And they slap you again for it. Apparently that wasn't the answer they wanted.
Everything aches and burns and you feel like you're going to vomit at any moment. You thought after a while the pain would become numb, or at least a dull throb. But it hasn't. It just keeps hurting more and more and more. You want to call out for help but no one will hear and no one will care. So you just let them do with your body as they please. Because you're fucking weak and worthless. All you can do is lay there as these faceless figures use you before you finally blackout from the excruciating pain.
== KARKAT: WAKE UP.
You open your eyes and you're alone. The walls are moving slightly and you aren't but when you do, it hurts. You're lying on a bed, you duly note. You let your tired eyes slowly wander around the dark room you're apparently in. They ache like you've been crying and for a moment you are confused. Yes, you are very confused until you move to rub at them and notice a dark ring around your wrist. You go to feel it with your other hand only to realize that this one also has the same ring. And they hurt, they burn, etched into your skin.
And now you're scared.
Every sound is amplified around you and it's only helping to worsen your pulsing headache. The thumping of the music outside the room door is in sync with the throbbing you feel in the center of your forehead. You can hear the AC whistling through a vent somewhere in the house, crisping the stale air surrounding you, making you feel so uncomfortable. You catch the sounds of people talking, laughing, moving. It's muffled but you can hear it so clearly. It's all happening outside the room you're in. And it's driving you insane and scrambling your thoughts.
It's so loud.
You swiftly sit up and it feels like the weight of the room is being balanced on your brain. You feel dizzy, the room is twisting around you, and you sway a bit as you scurry to stand up, only to end up tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. What you feel of your body is so sore. Your breathing is starting to escalate and your head begins to pound with the onslaught of memories—no, nightmares. Nightmares of what you are sure happened merely hours ago, if not less. The ghost of pain enveloping your entire body is only further proof of what they did to you.
Your heart is starting to race and your shallow breaths are scraping against your throat harshly as you realize your situation and what just happened to you and—oh God, oh God, oh God.
Hastily, you will yourself off the ground and try to stay up on shaky legs. They feel like jello. You almost collapse again, but you manage to hold yourself up against the wall in front of you. Your body leans against the cold, white surface as a support. But this support is doing nothing to help control the sanity you can practically feel being ripped away from you.
A wave of fear washes through you—choking you. You feel dirty. You don't even dare to look down at your body. You're afraid of what you'll find.
Your eyes rapidly dart around the room in panic—looking for something, anything. But you don't know what you're looking for or why you need it. You don't know. You don't know what you're doing until you feel the sharp, smooth metal in your hand; a knife. And you don't know how it ended up in your hand or how you ended up halfway across the room but here you are.
The door swings open slowly, almost on its own. The darkness of the hallway greets you, along with the yellow haze that shines against the furthest wall. It's coming from the main room of the party at the end of the hallway, you know.
You are slowly making your way towards the room. Your legs are still shaking, yet each step you take is very precise. You know where you're going. You know what you're doing. And you definitely know that knocking down the big music speakers will get everyone's attention. So you do.
"What the fuck?" Someone exclaims. Everyone is sending you dirty looks.
A white hot anger pierces through you, boiling under your skin, making the tips of your fingers and toes start to tingle and—
You take a deep breath. This is nothing new. Don't let it get to you. But it's fucking getting to you. It's getting to you so bad right now as you look at their faces. And you can't do anything to stop this overwhelming feeling of nausea over the fact that you hate who you are. You hate how you're treated. You hate what they did to you. You hate them. YOU HATE THEM. "I hate you!" you scream quite pathetically as you finally allow yourself to cry for the first time since you've woken up.
You choke out a heavy sob, the most retching sound you've ever heard yourself make. Your body sways with your harsh breathing and you can't see behind the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. You are so disgusted. You want to puke. You want to yell. You want to pull your hair out and break things and cry and cry and fucking cry! You can't take this feeling—it's pushing its way up your throat, making you feel sick.
"K…Karkat?"
Your eyes languidly move up to the voice. It's Gamzee. He's standing towards the middle of the room, head slightly cocked to the side. He looks so confused.
"What's wrong, Karbro?" Now he just looks worried.
You inhale—it ends up sounding more like another sob than anything else—and your face crumples almost painfully as you look at your boyfriend's wide eyes. You don't want to tell him. You don't want him to know. He can't know. You're embarrassed. Yet, just looking at him, you can barely do anything to stop the volley of tears that come streaming down your face.
"They…Gamzee, they, they hurt me," you whisper, because you feel doing so will make it less real. He squints his eyes, confused.
You involuntarily recall the past events and, staring into Gamzee's concerned eyes as the memories flash before your own, your chest tightens and you feel whatever was still intact within you break.
"They fucking HURT ME!"
You inhale again, sharply. You're forced to stop for a moment. Your whole body wracks with the weight of all the mental and emotional pain that's been piling up for much too long now. Gamzee slowly starts to move forward, towards you. You close your eyes tight and then open them again. They glaze over with the fear of fully accepting what you are about to admit. "They raped me," you say. He halts in his steps. And it is with the fear still permanently etched in your eyes that you turn away from Gamzee and look at them. They are all in this room. You didn't think you'd remember who did it and who was there but here and now you stare at those you're a hundred percent sure are responsible. Every single one of them. They are all in this room.
You only acknowledge that you're slowly stepping forward because it is painful and – oh, you're crying.
Someone scoffs. "What the fuck is your problem? Didn't you get enough?"
You focus and—oh, Ampora. Your hand is tightening around the weapon you had almost forgotten about and a vein on your forehead is throbbing. You open your mouth and—
"FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!" You're screaming and you're sobbing. The thick tears collecting in your eyes blur your vision as you lunge first at Eridan. You hear him make a gurgling sound as the knife slices into his chest. He moves an arm forward trying to stop you from further hurting him. You cut off his hand. And now you're stabbing him anywhere you can reach. You can barely hear his screams over yours. Your lungs are burning with the strain you're putting on them. You still can't really see what you're doing; the tears haven't stopped.
You register the screaming all around you and it's so fucking loud. It's overwhelming you and you can't think straight. And you were already not thinking straight so now you're just agitated and confused and—shut up, shut up, shut up,shut up,shutup,shutupshutupshutupSHUTUP.
You whip your head to one side and out of your peripheral you see a figure coming up behind you. Your wrist snaps towards them, whoever it is, and you slice their neck. Red splatters across your face and you take a moment to relish in the warmth of the thick liquid. You look down and see the figure gasping for breath as its neck bleeds. Almost finished, you think, as you run your fingers through the slit of flesh you created. Everyone should be like this—white and red, cold and dead. This way they can't speak or yell. They can't hurt you this way. They are all so much betterthis way.
You look up and the dark figures are all around you again. And you remember, these are the ones that did this to you. These are the ones that need to pay. And you make sure that they do, as you lunge at every single one of them and make sure they all bleed. You no longer feel like you control your body, yet you also feel alive. Like this, this right here, was the real you all along. This is what you were always meant to do. This is You.
You vaguely notice a body near yours helping to spread the red, and another body further from you, just watching. They are not black figures. So you ignore them and move on.
== BE GAMZEE.
…
Your boyfriend needs help, you think as you effortlessly crush Equius' skull with your bare hands.
You don't think anymore after that.
== BE DAVE.
You let yourself slide down the wall you're leaning against as you watch Karkat and Gamzee murder everyone in the room before your eyes. It's disgusting. It's horrifying. But you're not stopping it. You're not even trying. You're just…watching.