The first thing I hear when I float in is a muffled sob. DAMMIT. "Gamz? Why aren't you in bed?" He sits up from a pile of books with a sniffle, wiping away tears and smearing his make-up. "Oh, hey. Um, couldn't get my sleeping on. Didn't wanna bother Karbro, cuz he was real patient tonight, but he's so tired I wanted to let a brother motherfucking sleep. What are you doing up, Rosesis?" I float over, landing in front of him, "Getting you to sleep. That's what I'm doing. Come on, we can fly back to my room." He stares at my hand like it's an invading alien at first, but eventually takes it. Fuck me he doesn't trust me anymore. Fuck fuck fuck. "But...didn't you up and say you didn't want a bed buddy? I don't want to hafta up and apologize for doing something stupid again." I give him my winningest smile. "You won't be sleeping in bed with me, I have an extra set up for you. It's right next to mine, in case you have a bad dream and need to talk about it, kay?" He gives me a weak smile and flits off of his feet. "Kay. Lead the way mamacita." Karkat's right. There is nothing worse than a sad clown. Right in the feels!
We make quick work of the return trip, and he smiles appreciatively when he sees the extra bed. I pull him up short, re-routing him to the bathroom. "Hang on, clown boy. That make-up is coming off before you settle in." His eyes widen in panic, which I hadn't expected. "Did I say something inappropriate? Are you okay?" He lands in front of the bathroom door. "Ain't let a motherfucker other than Karbro see my real face since...uhm..." Oh shit. OH SHIT OH SHIT. "Oh. My apologies, then. If you'd like to keep it on..." He squeezes my hand halfway through my fumbling apology. "Nah. It's good, sister. I get you. Karbro's seen my face plenty of times and he ain't complaining." He turns into the bathroom, but my brain won't tell my hand to let go. He looks back, head tilted with a 'what now' face. "Let me help you." adfasdjfasl;kfmj I'm so stupid. I see him visibly quake at the suggestion so I immediately attempt to apologize, again, "Oh, I, ah. I mean I have make-up removers...that are better than..." he just puts a finger to my lips and tugs me in after him.
Why do I keep doing this to myself. I sit him down on the edge of the tub, where he fidgets nervously, tapping his fingers against his thigh. Trying to make this less awkward than it already is, I busy myself under my counter, pulling out the best makeup remover I have, (St. Ives) handing it to him. "Let me get you a wet cloth and dry, and then I'll be out of your way." He glances my way with a shy smile, "Yo, Rosesis. Can't read the bottle. Am I supposed to eat it?" That makes me laugh. "No, Gamz. Sorry, I keep forgetting you guys can't really read English. It's so weird the game lets us talk to one another. Here, hand it over and I'll explain." He fiddles with the wet washcloth I handed him before speaking, "You mind doing it for me? I'll probably screw it up, anyhow."
He isn't looking at me, holding out the bottle of remover. It's painfully obvious he's trying to make it seem like it doesn't matter, but really it would mean the world to him if I would. Fuck me in the elbow, more mixed messages. "Sure. I'm not gonna do it bending over you though, this tank top isn't too forgiving. Come here." I pull him up, sit on the sink counter, and steer him as close as I dare without making it weird. I run the wet cloth under hot water, quickly wiping down his face and removing a bulk of the paint. His hands are shaking uncontrollably, eyes closed. It's so sad, and so damn adorable. I stop long enough to ask, "Are you sure this is okay?" He peeks at me under his eyelashes, taking a steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm good. You right?" I stick my tongue out at him and he honks a soft laugh.
I squirt a dollop of the remover into both hands, working it up into a lather before touching his face. He unconsciously presses into my hands as I work to get all of the paint off, starting from his hairline down. The scars start at his right temple, arching down to his left jaw in vicious parallel lines. From what I heard from Kanaya, he had inflicted those on himself when he had temporarily lost his mind. He makes a keening sound when I finish with the soap under his chin. I feel horrible. I can't believe he's trusting me with this when I've been so awful with him. "Hold still, I still have to wipe everything off, kay?" He nods, not daring to open his eyes.
I run the second wet cloth under hot again, working the same pattern as I had with the soap. I'm very careful to make certain there's none left, going over a few spots out of paranoia. Without the makeup, he's very handsome. High cheekbones, strong jaw, aquiline nose. Very aesthetically pleasing. The scars do little to take away from that. Could be the eye of the beholder, though. I cup his chin and turn his head from side to side, making sure I've gotten everything. I really don't want to let go. If I don't get out of this room right now...shit. Stupid hormones.
I dab gently with the dry cloth, taking care to get every micron of moisture. He sighs in my hand, nuzzling it a little. My thumb traces over the scars, his eyes jerk open in shock. He doesn't pull away, though. "Do they still hurt?" I ask. With something close to wonder, his hand covers over mine, stopping it's movement. "Not really. Sometimes I think they do, but it's just in my head. Usually that's when I'm having a bad day. You ain't scared of them?" I give him a 'are you fucking kidding me?' look. "No. Not at all. They're part of you, and that's good enough." His breath hitches. I have to stop before I do something stupid. I jump down from the counter, moving out of the danger zone. "Come on, I gotta tell you something before we sleep anyway."
He follows me placidly from the bathroom, refusing to let go of my hand. I turn back to him, "Do you have anything to sleep in other than what you're wearing now?" He looks a little embarrassed, "Nah. I don't usually sleep with a motherfucking stitch on." Well then. "I wouldn't recommend that now, but I think I have a pair of sweats that might fit you. They're huge on me." He shrugs, "Sure." I pull out the shirt and pant set I alchemized when I first started fiddling with the machines on the meteor. They are more or less three sizes too big for me. Unfortunately they have the phrase 'Juicy' emblazoned in the seat. I'll just hope he doesn't notice. Handing them over, he gives me a wicked grin, "Wanna help me with these too?" I roll my eyes at him and point to the bathroom silently.
He meekly goes in, but comes sauntering back out. The shirt is way too tight, but the pants fit well enough. They stop about mid-calf on him. "Please, if the shirt is too tight, don't wear it. How the hell do your wings even fit in it?" He waggles his eyebrows, "Miracles," as he takes it back off. Oh. Hmm. He has those thingies on his stomach that make smart girls stupid. Stop looking! I break eye contact just in time for my shirt to come flying back at my head to hoots of his laughter. "HAHAHA, Getting you an eyeful, sister?!" I shrug deferentially. "Sorry. Hormones. They're a bitch." He flops down at the end of my bed, "Tell me about it, chica."
He rolls to his side to give me his full attention, "What all do you have to tell me? I gots an itchin for some knowledge." I sit cross legged at the top of the bed, evaluating what exactly it is I want to say. He seems content to wait. I rub my forehead nervously. "When I first read your journal, what made me cry the most was when you talked about your lusus." He sits silently, waiting for me to continue. "It reminded me a great deal of my relationship with my mother. We lived in the same house, but we might as well have lived on different planets. The only time we spoke is if we were arguing, and if we were not arguing, we didn't speak at all."
He lets out a hiss of breath, "Shit, sorry Rosesis." I shrug, "It's not your fault. What really struck me is how the love of your parent was directly linked to your self worth. I do the same thing, and I know how much it can really fuck you up. Pardon the language." He raises a brow ironically, "Nah girl, let those fucks fly." I take another deep breath, this is it. "It's pretty much why I'm having a hard time with the matespirit thing." This gets his attention, sitting up to imitate my crosslegged position. "I just can't imagine why someone would want...something like that from me. I always thought it was something that happened to others, and not myself. I was okay with that. I'd spent years building up an acerbic wit and a frosty demeanor, and you come along and walk right by it like it's nothing. It shook me up. I'm still quite confused, really."
His face reveals a mixture between shock and pleasure. He quickly schools it into serenity before he replies, "Damn, baby girl, why didn't you up and say something to a motherfucker. I mean, you just did, but damn. I'm guessin that's why you asked for all these goings on to be slowlike?" I nod, hoping he understands. "Motherfuck. I wouldn't want to go real fast either. But that's some bullshit. You not thinking you deserve flushed feelings from a motherfucker. Ain't nobody I ever met not deserve them from someone. You shouldn't be hiding those miracles from the world." He scoots a little closer, grabbing one of my hands. "Shit. Let's be shellbeasts. You fix my head, I'll try to help you out. Deal?" I've never been proposed to in such a way, but for him, it's cute. I nod, "Sure. Shellbeasts it is." His laugh is light and easy. "Hugs okay?" I punch him on the shoulder. "Duh." He pulls me closer, "Thanks. Needed that know, girl." I tell him he's welcome. A few cuddles and hugs later, we bid each other adieu for some shuteye. It's fucking five a.m.
Not two hours later, my door shooshes open and a certain stompy grumpy fellow makes his way into the room. Cracking open an eye, I wave and point at the pile next to me. Gamzee is snoring loudly, his ass jutting out of the pile all impudent and 'juicy'. Karkat's eyes boggle, and he takes a deep breath to expel what I assume to be loud expletives. I slap magic over his mouth to stop him from speaking. I am not getting up right now. Twitching a finger, I bring him over to Gamzee's pile and throw him in. I hear muffled screams as Gamz turns in his sleep, grey arms whipping out of the pile and pulling Kar in. "Hey best friend." It's like watching someone getting sucked into a quicksand trap on the Discovery channel. A middle finger is all that's left of him by the time they shift around comfortably. Bemused smile on my face, I drift back off to oblivion.