Karkat & Crabdad: Avoir Le Mal De Quelqu'un (French), Missing Someone So Much It Literally Makes You Sick
Warning for (past) parental death in this story
It begins with a series of vague messages on the theme of whether you know anything about sewing, whether you know how to alchemize a sewing machine, or whether you might ask Kanaya if she has a sewing machine he can borrow. As intriguing as it may be, it's also extremely frustrating to help him when he won't tell you why he's asking, and finally you give up and tell him to just meet you in person.
You've hardly seen him for weeks, and frankly, he looks awful. He's never seemed to be well-rested, but the circles beneath his eyes are darker than you've ever seen them and his hands shake faintly when he tries to hold still. He doesn't want to tell you why he wants his questions answered even now, and it doesn't take long before you are sick of the game and of trying to help him when he refuses to give you any additional information or context.
When you finally put your foot down he glares at you and snaps, "You don't need any background, just answer my goddamn questions."
"I refuse." And before he can start shouting, you follow with, "As charming as you've been, do you realize how difficult it is to give you advice when you won't tell me what that advice is for? I am doing my best, certainly, but I can't tell you what you should do when you won't tell me what you are trying to accomplish. You are aware, of course, that this is not even my area of expertise? I fail to see why you've come to me instead of Kanaya."
He groans and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Because it would be the most insensitive fucking thing I've ever done, that's why, and let me tell you, that would be one hell of an accomplishment."
"Why?"
"No. There isn't any reason for me to answer that. It's not even about the sewing at all."
"Yes, well, personal curiosity is a factor, and since I'm doing you a favor, it would be polite to at least tell me what I'm getting into."
"Look. You can't tell her about this. I'm already the biggest asshole left alive in the universe, I don't need to make this any worse than it already is. I'm not going to Kanaya and saying 'Oh, hey, your lusus is dead and you had to butcher her corpse to get the matriorb, which was then destroyed because I'm an incompetent leader? Well how about you talk me through making a stuffed animal of my lusus?'"
"Your guardian?"
He sighs heavily, and rakes his hands through his hair. "I miss him, okay? I never spent a full night without him before we got to the meteor, and by then I was responsible for him dying twice, and I'm not talking about it to Kanaya, and I can't ask Terezi or Gamzee about it because they both grew up basically without lusii. So I'm making a fucking stuffed animal just like a goddamn wriggler, shut up."
"I wasn't planning to say anything." You pause. "You do realize that my mother just died as well?" He looks absolutely stricken for a moment, and he's already starting to babble out an apology when you raise a hand to cut him off. "I do promise I'm not upset. That was… insensitive of me to bring up right now, and I am sorry. But I did mean it before when I said that I am no expert in sewing."
"It doesn't even matter right now. It doesn't have to be good, just, you know. Sort of like him. I tried by myself but it was so impressively shitty that you don't even need to bother asking to see."
"Well. First, what sort of pattern are you working from? And I presume that if you've made one attempt you have the fabric. May I see that?"
He just gives you a confused look when you say 'pattern,' but he decaptchalogues a bolt of pure white fabric. He watches as you unwind some and run it through your fingers. "It's just white fabric. There isn't anything special about it."
You tug on a length and purse your lips as it stretches. "Well. This is a knit fabric and you need something woven." He just stares at you blankly. "You need something that won't stretch. No matter how good you might be at sewing, it would be quite difficult to make a stuffed animal that way without deforming the shape of the finished product. It should be a simple matter to alchemize a woven white fabric."
"Oh." He blinks. "Sorry. I'm just tired. Really tired."
"I thought you and the others were managing without the sopor?"
He waves you off. "No, it's just. Other things."
"Perhaps you would be open to more assistance with this undertaking, then?"
"If you can help me get a sewing machine, that'd be plenty. You don't need to bother with anything else."
"In fact, I think you would be better served by hand stitching. You might do a flat version of the right shape with detailing done in thread of a darker color, or there is a technique where the body and limbs are constructed separately, and then attached. I believe your father was a large crab?" He nods, and you rise to your feet, smoothing your skirt down over your legs. "If you'll come with me, I believe we may be able to make you something done in a few hours that will help you get a full day's worth of rest."
He stares blankly until you extend a hand, then he takes it and slowly stands. He trails behind you for some time before finally he clears his throat once, coughs, clears his throat again, and finally says, "Thank you."