LOLBEENAWHILEHUH
Wow guys, honestly I'm sorry it took so long, I was struggling with school and a bit of writer's block. But I finally got these two chapters to a point where I think they're worth posting, so here you are!
Fanfiction I mean it, I don't like redoing my italics and bolds every time. It's a pain.
The red path stretches out in front of you.
You don't question it. You just stand and look at it, wanting to go back, wanting to go forward...not knowing what you want. Not really caring, either. On either side of the path, black stretches out forever. Just black. Not shadow, just a sudden, sharp black nothingness. Everywhere around you is hot, burning, but you ignore it for the moment and focus on standing right where you are.
And then you hear something. Something whispering. And a hot, foul wind blows from behind you, whispering in your ear, "Better run, little boy, better run~!" And you've never felt this terrified in your entire life. You take of sprinting down the path, forcing yourself not to look back, even though you can feel the hot breath on your neck, hear the footsteps always right behind you. And the ragged breathing just gets louder and more mocking and everything hurts, everything burns, your lungs are on FIRE...
And the voice just keeps laughing, taunting, mocking you, "Ha, ha, over your head, you really went and got yourself into a mess this time, didn't you?"
And the dream vanishes, and you're back in Gamzee's room, and you know that fucking voice oh god what is he doing here now. You do not need his bullshit right now, not when you already feel like you're half dead.
You force yourself into wakefulness to glare at your visitor. Judging by the light streaming in through the window, you survived the night. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic. You still feel like hell would be nicer than this.
"John, what the actual fuck are you doing here," you rasp out. His usual silly grin is there, blatant and obnoxious as always, even with your vision made sort of hazy by sleep or fever you can still see that much, but his eyes aren't smiling at all. He looks worried.
Fuck him, you don't need anyone's pity.
He chuckles mildly. "Such a morning person." Then he lifts up his hand, showing you a plastic grocery bag, which seems to be holding some DVD cases and what might be a bag of popcorn. "We had plans, remember?" Oh, fuck, that's right. He got those new movies for some holiday or birthday or god knows what, and you agreed for what-fucking-ever reason to watch them with him. FUCK.
You roll onto your back with a groan, rubbing at your eyes. You still feel hot as fuck, and you're dead tired, but you can feel another nightmare just sitting and waiting on the edge of your subconscious, poised like some sort of devilish predator no NO NO FUCK THAT. You shake off the thought, struggling to breathe a bit. John's gotten up, when the fuck did that happen...
"Karkat, did you hear me?"
"You said something?" Why does everything hurt, god fucking dammit...
"I said I'm gonna go so you can rest. We can do this some other time. If either of you two needs any help, just call me, alright?" he says, his expression faking what he probably thinks is reassurance. You're too damn tired, too damn sore, too damn hot to bother dignifying him with a real response, so you just grunt at him. (Or try to, it comes out as more of a groan.)
You don't notice until after he's gone that Gamzee's been in the room the entire time. Or maybe you did notice, and you've been subconsciously ignoring him, because you're definitely still fucking pissed off at him. You decide to keep ignoring him either way. So you're not really paying him any attention, none at all, you only take note of the fact that he's just standing by the door staring at you so that you know what it is you're ignoring exactly. You don't want him to talk to you, don't need him to chase away the nightmares or hold you with his cool hands or tell you everything's all gonna be okay, not a fucking bit. And you're not thinking about him, you're not, you're not, not for a minute, not a second, not even for a moment. He's not there, you don't see him, you're all alone in this room and you can deal with things alone. So he can just get the fuck out and leave you to your misery.
The darkness surrounds you, agony pulses through your veins, red and black and claw at your lungs from the inside out. You're burning, there's fire everywhere, and lightning streaks your vision, and then suddenly everything is overwhelmed with bright light. And it's hot, and dry, a desert of white sand, white sky, burning your eyes, your skin, your whole being. The only real color comes from the path still stretching out in front of you, and that monster's still on your tail. Then the sky starts fading to red, and the red seeps into the sand, and the monster's voice gets louder again. It's coming after you, and with every step you take you just pray that it wears out before you do, and you run faster but the sand sucks at your feet, weighing you down, slowing you and oh fuck -
God that coolness is back again, stroking at your cheek...
The creature hisses and spits. It's angry, furious, and the sand starts to firm up and you don't feel quite so hot, but the angry creature starts taunting you, trying to drag you down with its barbed-wire-words, "all-alone, all-alone, it's okay brother, all-alone, all-alone, I'm right motherfucking here and I'm not going anywhere, lies, lies, lies-from-a-liar-" You scream at it, with everything you've got, to shut the fuck up and let you listen as those cool fingers trace lazily across your temple to your forehead, cooling your skin just a bit...Remnant images of the dream cling to you, and you're more tired than you would have thought possible.
"...You with me, brother?" You open your eyes - funny, you don't remember closing them - and try to focus on his hazy shape. You give the barest of nods, not trusting your voice much at the moment.
"You need anything?" His kind of gravelly, low voice is such a contrast to the sing-song-screeching from the dreams, and he speaks so softly, and god his hand is so cool...
"Water," you manage to croak out. Your throat feels like you've been swallowing the sand from your nightmares, and you need to cool down. After a second, you realize that now that you've asked, he's gonna have to leave to go get it now...
...Or not. There's a glass on the bedside table, among a few other things that you're too damn tired to identify. He gently supports your head and shoulders with one arm, helping you into a half sitting position, and picks up the glass, bringing it up to your lips. You try to support your own weight, you really do, but your arms feel simultaneously like rubber and lead. You feel so fucking helpless, but some part of you is quietly glad that it's Gamzee who's here now, because for whatever reason, knowing that makes you feel safe...
You drink almost greedily, or you would if he would tip the damn glass at a better angle. The water's cold, and every sip brings a bit more clarity to your thoughts. After a while he sets down the glass and eases you back down.
You try to be mad at him for a moment, because your pride won't let you forget that you're mad at him, but it's so hard to right now, when he's being so gentle and patient.
He takes out a washcloth, probably from the bedside table, and gently dabs at your forehead. It feels surprisingly good, actually. It isn't much, but it revives you just a little bit, extinguishing some of the fire in your skin.
You open your eyes again - you aren't even sure when exactly you closed them - and he's just there, hovering nearby, staring.
"You all up and need anything else, bro?" he asks, leaving the damp cloth draped across your forehead. You start to shake your head, but think better of it because that washcloth will fall, and anyway his hand has moved down and he's stroking your cheek again and...
You mumble to him that you're fine, resisting the urge to lean into his hand. You're mad at him, you're mad at him, and you know you shouldn't trust him so much after he lied to you about something this important...but it's so hard...
You just can't help it. Being there for each other, trusting each other, it's what the two of you have done for what feels like forever. And even though the lie hurt, you just...
Don't want him...to leave you.
This time when you drift off, you don't dream.