This chapter's gonna be a bit different. Sorry it took so long, but part of the reason for the delay was that I couldn't think of a good way to divide this part into two full chapters. So instead we have one monster of a chapter that switches between the two perspectives. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out, but if anyone needs clarification, I can fix it up asap~!
You suppose you could've done this a different way. You could have done it the easy way, just throwing the whole paper bag in the trash can, only that wouldn't really motherfuckin' work. It'd still be in the house. It'd be so easy to just pick it out before trash day and store it away again.
No. You're doing this right.
You're ending it where it began.
No more excuses.
Your thoughts are starting to run into each other. Memories seem to wave at you as they pass by, drifting along in wisps of mist under the shade of the trees. They come near, swirl around you for a moment as you slowly creep forward, and then drift away, gone from your mind. You're not even sure they are memories. They seem more like dreams. They must be. They can't be real...all that's ever existed is this wonderful, shady pathway and the horrible, cruel world outside with its burning snow and its monsters...
...Right?
You wrap your heavy winter coat around yourself a bit tighter. The storm that Karkat got caught out in was two days ago, but the snow's still piled up high on either side of the sidewalks (which some merciful soul came and cleared off), and even now, in the middle of the afternoon, the sky is overcast, frowning down in a pale, whitish-gray. Thank fuck you're not planning on going far.
Just a little farther, and then you can finally put an end to this nightmare.
With every step you get, the path gets a little bit cooler, a little bit lighter, and your mind grows a little bit less crowded. It's a wonder you ever got by, with all these thoughts and memories and emotions crammed into one head. You feel your body growing lighter, as more and more weight lifts off your shoulders. It makes you a bit giddy, this weightlessness.
It's...nice. Not having any worries.
Another little puff of mist floats past, and you hear someone faintly crying out. You make out one word, but it doesn't register.
"Karkat"? What's that supposed to mean?
You shrug it off and keep walking, a faint sense that you're missing something nagging at your mind.
You now stand outside the gates. Beyond, full of trees and winter, lay memories layered even more thickly than the deep snow.
This is where Karkat broke his arm in the fourth grade when he fell out of a tree because Sollux had suggested he was afraid of heights. It's where you got invited to your first party that wasn't Karkat's, back in the sixth grade. It's where you found the stray puppy that your dad wouldn't let you keep and your mom didn't have room for. It's where ice cream on a hot summer day and laughter and sunshine happened. It's where snowball fights and tongues stuck to icicles and snowmen happened. It's where leaf jumping, and halloween-candy-swapping, and cloud watching happened. It's where you used to get excited at the first signs of spring growth, it's where you would watch day by day as eggs grew up into robins and left their nests, to come back next year with eggs of their own.
It's where you first met your drug dealer one late, lonely night when no one else had time for you.
It's where you first met the most important person in your whole universe.
This old park is more than just trees and space and (for now) snow to you. So many things happened here. There's not an inch of this place you don't have some emotional attachment to, but for now you're focused on one specific spot. The paths here haven't been completely swept off, and it's actually started lightly snowing again, but that's not about to stop you. You pull up your hood a little tighter, watch a puff of breath rise from your mouth in a shimmery mist, and follow the path, headed for a lonely little bench in the middle of the park.
You pause again. There's a...a shadow of a shadow of a thought trapped in what's left of your mind, and while it can't make itself heard, it won't let go either. And it tugs at you, wanting you to go back, turn back now, but there's nothing back there but pain and monsters...
A moment ago you were happy, peaceful, carefree. You beat the world of fire and pain and misery, and now you're getting your reward, you know it'll be at the end of this tunnel...
Only...
Why does something in you feel like you're giving up?
You're standing in front of a trash can beside the park bench. You could have picked another trash can, you suppose, maybe one closer to the entrance or something. But if you're going to do this right, you may as well do the thing completely right, and this feels about as right as right can motherfucking get. You're doing this for Karkat. He'd appreciate this sort of sentimental thing.
You let out another huff of misty breath, and watch it drift upwards as you pull the paper bag out of your pocket.
Well, here it is. Your little sin that caused this whole mess. The trash collectors are supposed to clear out the park tomorrow, but even if they don't, with the way the snow is falling, anything that ain't waterproof won't last the night. The trashcan is lidless, exposed to the elements - there's already a fair amount of snow inside it - and the cheap brown paper of this sack won't keep out the moisture. It'll all be made useless, all you have to do is drop the bag in and walk away, once and for all...
But as your hand hovers over the trash can, it's like someone shoves their arms into your chest and grips your lungs. You freeze, trembling, looking at yourself. You...you can't do it.
The snow keeps falling around you, and you mentally will yourself to let go, to turn away, to think about poor Karkat and how he's suffering because of the contents of this bag, but memories of withdrawals, of the bad times you turned to these drugs to get through, of the aching loneliness that eased away every time you used come on hard and fast...
And you just can't do it.
Something's happening. Behind you, something whispers, and a breeze seems to rustle through the trees, but you don't feel any wind. It's making you uneasier than you already were. You strain to recall whatever it is that you feel like you're missing, but you're empty, hollow. You haven't seen any puffs of mist go by in a while, either.
Something's wrong.
You want to go forward.
You want to leave these questions you don't have words to ask to someone else.
You want to give in.
But you can't.
Up ahead, you see why no mist has passed you in a while. It's gathering itself up, into a huge cloud that fills the whole path.
Something's wrong.
You want to go back.
You want answers.
You want to fight.
But you can't.
Can you?
Your phone rings. You jump, startled by the sudden noise in this dead silent world of winter, and then pull the phone out of your pocket with a sigh. The paper bag slips back in your pocket, but you don't let go of it - you're throwing it away as soon as this call is over.
"Motherfucker, this better be importa-"
"Gamzee, it's John."
The snow should be taking lessons on cold from your blood at those words. It's not ice in your veins now, it's liquid nitrogen.
"Something's gone wrong, Karkat's barely breathing and I almost can't feel his pulse - "
"What. Happened." The intensity of your voice frightens you a bit, but not as much as what John's telling you.
"I have no idea, I mean...He was almost lucid for a moment, and he asked where you were, so I told him you weren't here right now, I didn't think he'd be able to understand, but then he - Gamzee, I think he's..."
"I'll be right there." You don't wait for him to try to finish that thought, just snap the phone shut with a click. The liquid nitrogen is undergoing a transformation, going subzero. It's a cold fury that arcs through your vein. A gut hatred. You pull out that paper bag again, and suddenly, it stirs no emotions but anger. You hate yourself for being dependent on this thing. You hate this thing for making you dependent. If you'd only taken care of this a long time ago, Karkat wouldn't be dying right now.
You snarl, hurl the motherfucker into the trash can, turn on your heel, and run for home.
It won't occur to you until much later that you never once look back.
The big cloud of mist is approaching fast. You brace yourself, readying yourself for who knows what...
And the memories hit you, like a feather and a freight train all at the same time. You and someone else, someone important, the voice that kept you sane on the journey through that wasteland, the same voice that'd laugh while handing you hot chocolate after a day playing in the snow, the big, sleepy eyes that smiled at you even when everyone else'd had enough, the gentle hands that comforted you after you broke your leg being a fucking imbecile, that one presence who was always there when you needed him, the one who let you down - once - and then spent the rest of the time since then trying to fix things, even as you pushed him away. He's your roommate, he's a massive pain in the ass, and he's your best friend, and suddenly you know that if you keep going down this deceptively calm path, you lose him and everything you've gained and maybe taken for granted.
You've taken him for granted the whole time you've known him, and now just like that you're about to give up and lose him.
No sooner has the thought torn through your mind, which is suddenly painfully aware, then the mist begins to thin out, moving back up the path and away from you. As some final straggling memories swirl around you you turn around on your foot, crying out "NO!"
But the path is blocked by a wall of thickly woven thorns. The mist is filtering through it, and heedless of the scratches drawn on your skin, you reach through, grasping in vain at the mist.
Watching helplessly as it drifts through your fingers, you scream.
"DON'T LEAVE ME!"
You slip, once, on a patch of ice hidden beneath the snow, but you are so past giving a fuck that you're running again before you're all the way back on your feet. The snow is falling thicker now, but it doesn't stop you. You aren't stopping for anything.
You come up on your house and almost break the door down on your way in. You don't take off your shoes or your coat or anything, you don't even slow down on the way back to your room, where John's listening at Karkat's chest.
You can't hear Karkat's breathing. You can't see his chest moving.
John's head pops up when he sees you, and starts to say something, but you just mutely push past him and crouch beside the bed. Up close, now, you can hear a faint rasping; he's still got some life in him yet...somewhere.
"Karkat," you whisper, unable to really call up your voice, "Karkat please come back..." He doesn't respond.
You get down on your knees so you can bend over him, and sweep his hair out of his face, leaning in close. He's trembling, ever so slightly, and his skin is still hot, but not as hot as it was. You're pretty motherfucking sure that isn't a good thing right now. You swallow painfully, and speak a bit louder, "Karkat...brother, please, I can't do this without you, you're all I've got."
Was that maybe the barest trace of a whimper? You can't tell, you're afraid to hope. You're vaguely aware of John creeping out of the room, probably to give you a last moment alone or something, but all of your attention is centered on Karkat.
"Please, Karkat, don't..." Your head falls on his chest. You feel numb.
"Don't leave me..."
Your eyes fly open and you sit back up. It was faint, but you definitely heard that. He's shaking a little harder now - he's fighting - he knows you're here - !
You pull up and rest your forehead against his, running a thumb across his cheek, and whisper back a promise that you know you'll be keeping.
"Never."