Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are waiting.

In fact, you are waiting by sitting on a hornpile in one of the most isolated blocks available on this meteor. Obviously you're not doing that because you have too much time on your hands or nothing better to do, thank you very fucking much. You're here because this is the place you meet up with your moirail.

Oh, he better be here soon. If he keeps you waiting as long as last time again, you'll take and throw him head-first into a pool of fuckery where he can drown forever for all you care. It'll be like a tsunami. A big tsunami consisting of your never ending rage. Actually, you even know something better. You're just going to go. There, simple as that. Just walk back to civilisation and maybe leave him a little note.

HEY, IF YOU'RE READING THIS IT MEANS YOU FINALLY USED UP ALL MY PATIENCE REGARDING DYING A LONELY DEATH OUT OF BOREDOM IN A SHITTY BLOCK AND NOW YOU GET TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. GUESS WHAT, GENIUS. I LEFT! DUH.

You could even draw a little face on the back, for good measure. One with fat, messy lines repeatingly running above each other and with scribbles all around it to make it look angrier. That would show him alright for letting you wait like that. But no, here you are knowing exactly you'd never ditch his sorry ass over something as unimportant as a few annoying delays. Even if you sat there until someone had to scrape your deceased remains off these horns, the paper solution is probably the last thing you'd ever consider.

There are a few cracks in the ceiling and you've already counted them a bunch of times, before realising how fucking dumb that is and abruptly stopping. Then — out of options to do anything else — you look over at the entrance as if you're waiting for him to step through it. Naturally, it isn't going to open because it would be too much to ask of Gamzee to use a door like a normal person. He's going to come through the ventilation shaft.

...Which you have your back turned to right now. Maybe you should —

"FUCK!"

You cover your mouth with your hands, both because of the high-pitched scream you just made and also to prevent any other embarrissing sounds from coming out. The very troll you've been awaiting all this time is sitting there in a crouch a few feet away from you. His untamed hair is even more roughed up than usual and there's a bit dust on his shoulders and ridiculous mustered pants from crawling in the dirty vents too much. Also, he could probably use a bath but that is beside the point. His curved horns come up to where your chin is, with you being on the pile and him on the ground.

You let him know the drill, "Oh my god, Gamzee! I swear to fuck one day I'll put a little bell on you!"

He smiles at you hesitantly and probably with an apologetic flair, "Aw, don't up and get your shout on, bro. You know I ain't got the means to be all scaring you like that. It's just that you're so motherfuckin' easy to get the jumpies."

This excuse doesn't do it for you, "Wrong! It's just that you happen to be a sneaky and murderous asshole, that's just waiting to throw everything over the fucking board of sanity-ship and make a full body dive directly back into the mental shit-state you were in, before I put an end to your oh so happy tale of subjugating us all. So don't come in here saying it's my fault I got startled when you're being as fucking creepy as usual!"

Emphasizing your pathetic attempt to justify the scream by crossing your arms and glaring the other direction, you add an offended little, "And you also happen to be my shit-eating moirail and I barley see your stupid face, so are we having a feelings jam or what?"

Gamzee makes a little agreeable noise that sounds just the slightiest bit like he's amused by your wrigglerish behavior, before standing up, strolling over and literally letting himself fall down on the pile, causing a bunch of honks to echo through the block.

The two of you just sit there for a while in silence — well you sit there, Gamzee is lying down, somehow comfortable in this garbage — and bless each other with the mind blowing power of not saying anything.

After a minute or so you glance down at him. His eyes are closed and if you didn't know better you'd say he was sleeping peacefully beside you. You turn your gaze back to your feet and a small sigh escapes your mouth. It's been half a sweep now since Sollux and Aradia gave this rock the legendary shove of only Mother Grub herself knows what and sent you on your journey through existential nothingness. Your and your friends' lives really... settled down after that. You guess? There is no particular problem you'd think of as fairly alarming or highly concerning, besides your usual everyday struggle to cope with lots and lots of shit that some people like to throw at you from various directions. Also you're still the biggest failure in paradox space as far as you can tell because face it, you never should've argued to lead your red team in the beginning, let alone the other half of them in the blue one. And of course there's this scary lack of knowledge about what waits for you in the new session, too.

Yeah ok, maybe you misjudged the number of your personal problems there a little bit. But despite all that, you can make life work. Not only for yourself but for all of you. You will make it work. Right?

Your train of thought is interrupted by a hand on your shoulder, its coolness reaching your skin even through the thick fabric of your sweater. It's a familiar feeling by now. You've grown to like it. Looking up, you meet Gamzee's worried eyes who is sitting crosslegged now rather than pretending to visit some dreamblubbles.

"You wanna tell your pale-bro what got you all kinds of down there?" he offers.

You stop the eye contact, which honestly makes him look a little sad, and hear another sigh from you, but this time louder and more frustrated. Gamzee doesn't seem to like it when you do that because he wraps his arms around your body from behind and before you know it, you are in a big, strong embrace with your back turned to his chest. You kind of lean against him to get more comfortable, knowing he has no intetions of letting you go in the near future. You wouldn't want him to anyway.

"So have a mind telling me now what unfunny noise is all pressing down on your pusher, best friend?" his voice is a low mumble in your ear. He does this sometimes — calling you 'best friend'. Whether it's just for old times' sake because it used to be his favourite nickname for you, or to actually mock his long gone high self, you have no idea. Either way, it sure rattles up a ton of different feelings inside whenever you hear it.

Realising that you actually need to answer him sometime, your speak-box comes to life again, "Well that depends on what you mean exactly. The undeniable deadly ride leading most likely to our doom, the fact that a majority of people I once called friends is dead, or the increasingly growing ball of shit that comes when you live between two girls who are always at each others lips like there's no tomorrow and someone who wants to lick your face all the time. Feel free to pick one of these issues."

"Maybe you should just motherfuckin' kick back, ya dig?" he considers, "If you feel those folks bringing the annoying vibes at you, don't be talking at them no more."

You look at him, "Wow, thank you for reminding me that I can always count on you and your top notch advises. Really, this one's got to be one of my favorites so far."

"Just saying," comes over a lazy grin.

You groan and nestle yourself a little bit deeper into his arms, which he answers with an even tighter squeeze and something that could be a smile against your hair.

"Sometimes I wonder how often Crab-dad must have dropped me on the floor of fuck ups as a wiggler to gain so much of it in me and get us here in the first place. I mean we won the game! We were there! Just one arm-reach away from victory, standing at the door to what could have been so much. New planet, new universe, new beginning, new life. And one moment later this all is just gone, while the leader stands helplessly in the middle and watches as everyone goes berserk around him. Leader. Yeah, fucking right. I led all of us into our end is what I did," the words are just pouring out of you at this stage.

Gamzee answers immediately, "But now you be giving yourself too much credit there, brother. Everyone up and threw their wicked mistakes in our party, making it so broken not even you got the ways to get your fix on it. Besides, there's still all being one thing you ain't guilty of yet."

You huff through your nose bemused, "Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"You didn't kill no motherfucker."

That much... is true. Even in all of the shit that went down between some teeny Highbloods who thought they had to bring a little violent culture from home with them on the meteor and your own existential life-crises, you somehow haven't managed to lessen the few trolls that are still alive.

On the other side though.. You may not have played an active role in murdering your friends, but simply you being a complete fucking tool at leading helped reaching exactly this goal. There is just no talking around it.

You let your eyes flicker over the ground, unsure on what to focus, "Still, I just don't get how it could go so wrong. How could I let—"

"Shhhhhhh..." Gamzee soothes with all the serene calm he summons up for you these days and you shut up. This little trick always works and you know that he knows that as well. So after your endless ramblings about who has fault are taking care of, he goes right back to using you as his personal snuggleplane.

"I swear if I come out of here looking like a stripe-beast because you managed to rub your disgusting paint off on me, I'm gonna be really mad. What am I even saying, it probably already happened anyway."

"M'sorry," he slurs. You don't think you would actually care that much about it, but still. You like making a point.

Seconds pass without any signs of him withdrawing from you whatsoever and you find yourself surprisingly grateful for it. There's just nothing like a nice round of perfectly platonic cuddles after a long day to set your nerves at ease, and you actually really try to relax a bit. Only too bad that your thoughts have other plans for you, these fuckers.

"...Did you know Terezi and Dave are a thing now?"

"What?"

Now he just looks confused. Obviously he didn't expect you to change the subject so fast, or he just didn't expect to talk about his other teammates' relationships at all.

"They're in a quadrant. The flushed one," you say, mixed with a bitter undertone.

"Oh..."

Gamzee seems to understand the problem now you have been trying to describe for him and begins to draw invisible little diamonds on your back with his fingers.

"And you're all motherfucking ok with that?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I could do anything about it anyway. I fucked up with her and she never—"

You stop when the fact that she probably didn't even feel the tiniest of flushed sparkles for you in her life slaps you in the face like a bitch. Taking a deep breath, you try again, "She doesn't feel for me that way."

"Well, from the knowledge I got going about the sister, I'd say you're really high up in the good side of her law book."

This makes you pause, "Wait, how do you know how Terezi feels about me. It's not like you talk to anybody other than myself."

He winces all of a sudden. Not visibly but enough that you can feel it.

"Uh, I guess I just all motherfucking suggested that noise. I mean you two were always getting your fun on at each other, even before the game, so it really ain't that hard to know where her opinion about your miraculous self is all lying at."

"Uh-huh..." you say with a suspicious expression on your face, "Liar!"

"I ain't lying, bro—"

"Of course you are! Don't bullshit me!"

"Look, no bullshit's being done here when we're getting our piling on."

"Oh, is that so?" you cross your arms at him.

There isn't even a falter, "Yeah."

"Ok," you say and look down for a moment, thinking it over, "Are you sure?"

"As shit."

This is getting stupid, "Gamzee."

"The motherfucking rule's no secrets, right? Ain't got none."

So very, very stupid, "Fuck you! I can see right through your god-awful charades of make-believe, trust me. You're definitely hiding something."

Gamzee's turning his head away from you now, looking troubled and fuck you hate the way he does that, so you decide to let the matter drop before you start vomiting with pale affection all over the place. If he doesn't want to talk about it, it's his loss.

"Fine shitsponge, you're not lying. Satisfied?"

He confirms, nodding a little but still won't look at you. This being the final straw, you pull him down by his shoulders on your level and bump your foreheads together, staying like that.

"I'm pale for you, you dead-panned fucking mess."

He leans in to the touch, and it could just be because your brain is physically melting into a complete shut off right now, but you're sure as fuck you can hear him purring softly.

"Pale for you too, brother."

When you release him you feel warm and save and fuzzy and just really, really good, on an odd level you can't quite explain. Right, it's such a wonderful thing, this troll disease called friendship and Moirallegiance is magic blah blah blah. You know how all the sayings go, having sweeps over sweeps studied them with your romcoms.

But you have to admit, you never even dreamed about finding the one true palemate in your life. It was just always totally out of your options because you had more important shit to care about back on Alternia, like staying alive or avoiding the drones or not letting anyone find out you have freaky mutant-blood flowing through your veins and be culled. It pretty much always led to the same thing. Death.

And if someone had told you that he was going to be the one taking over your Quadrant, you would have gladly corrected them by shouting a bunch of profanities directly into their face and taking great joy on their fallen tears of sorrow after you'd been done. But yet here you are, together with him and kind of happy. You could really get used to that.

A small smile creeps its way onto your face — something you haven't experienced in days and also something that probably won't go away for a while, which is fine with you.

"Gamzee?"

Maybe you're expecting a little too much.

"Hm?"

But you think that this here.

"Did we make our happy end unreachable now?"

Could finally be the path to victory.

"Nah, I think everything's being as good as it gets."

Your smile doesn't vanish.

"...Yeah."

You make an attempt to wiggle yourself out of the full-body-pillow Gamzee served you as, and slide slowly and lazily down the pile until your feet touch the ground and your upper body is still lying on the horns. That, of course, couldn't be done completly soundless and you're trying your best to ignore the obnoxious honkings under your weight.

Your companion moved the instant you left his protective arms and is now kneeling on the pile with his hands next to either side of your head, looking down at you, so you both see each other upside down.

You pap him right between his horns and make a suggestion, "Why don't we take a little walk? I want to stretch my legs a bit and this block here sucks so much bulge not even Aradia's weird dancestor with the East Beforan accent would find it funny anymore."