Author's Note: Right. So. Things have happened. Again. Most prominent, cutting is now a thing. There's something to be said for it, honestly. It's just so easy. Each one stands for some other nasty thing my grandmother's called me, "demented psychopath," "disgusting," "stupid," "worthless idiot," "moron," "self-centered," "selfish fucker," "lying bitch," to name a few. They're my tally marks. Countless on my left arm, only today am I starting on my right. It's sick, but I like them. Then again, maybe it's more of the concept of death that I like. I'm so sick of living. I hope to maybe finish this story before I go, but if I don't then I apologize.

I REWROTE THE END OF THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU GO READ IT.

Chapter Twenty-Six, loves. Sorry it's so short even though it took so long, it shouldn't have except that I couldn't get on a computer for the longest time. Also, just my luck that the day I am ready to update, the fuckin' site's down, naturally. Holy shit we're nearing the end. Maybe. Enjoy~

The next day was mostly quiet between Sollux and me. He'd gone home for the first time since I'd been hospital bound and dug up both of our Game Boy Advances, my red and his blue, a system link cable, and a few games, and brought them back with him for us to dick around on. It was just after one in the afternoon when Robert poked his head into the room. A brief smile flashed across his face at the sight of us playing games together before he shook it off and informed me carefully, "Karkat, your father's here."

I paused a moment, the game flung from my mind and replaced with instant concern. "Oh. Uh. Okay. Um. Thanks. Can you ask him to wait a few minutes?" I asked tentatively.

"I'll send him in in ten." With that, the doctor left and Sollux looked at me.

"Do you want me to be in here?"

"I'd rather you weren't," I said, shrugging.

"I gueth' I'll leave, then," he stated, beginning to stand up. I sat up quickly and stopped him with a hand on his knee.

"No. Not yet. Please."

He sat back down without question. "Okay."

He locked our fingers together and the silence between us was absolute for a solid few minutes. Hesitantly, I murmured, "I've gotta tell him."

Sollux blinked at me. "About... uth'?"

"Is that okay?" I asked, nerves getting to me.

"Yeah. I mean, we're gonna have to tell people at th'ome point, no harm in th'tarting now."

"I guess. How do you think he'll take it?"

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I dunno, KK. Your dad'th' a good guy, but I can't gueth' how he'll react to th'omething like thith'." He studied me, brushing my cheekbone lightly with the back of his index finger. "You sure you don't want me in here?"

"Yeah. It's gonna be hard e-fucking-nough to tell him anyways. I doubt I'd even be able to speak with you in here. And this is something I have to tell him myself."

"Okay." He squeezed my hand and bent down to kiss my forehead. "I gueth' I'll go get him now, yeah?" I nodded. "You'll be okay?"

"No," I laughed humorlessly. "But I'm gonna have to be, aren't I?"

"You don't have to tell him," he suggested uncertainly. "I mean, you can let me tell him, I'll be right here with you if you want. You know I will."

"I know." A heavy sigh came from the skinny coder.

"You'll be okay," he repeated more certainly, finally rising to his feet. "I love you. Don't forget that. No matter what your dad th'ay'th', I'll th'till be right here." I nodded again with a little hum of agreement. "I love you," he said again, finally going to the door. "I'll... bring your dad in. Or th'end him in. Or th'omething. Whatever."

"Okay." A few minutes passed in silence, nothing but my thoughts to keep me company until the door opened again and my dad appeared in the doorway, enormous hand covering the entirety of the door handle and looking unusually sheepish given his size and personality. Kolby Vantas was an uncommonly large man, feet the size of cinderblocks in his boots and hands like baseball mitts. Looking at us together, the only thing comparable was the unusual color of our eyes — a bright, red-ish brown. Other than that, our name was the sole defining factor in determining father and son. That and the similar growl in our voices, though mine cracked admittedly far more than his ever did.

Sitting crosslegged on the bed, I watched him walk in without a word. He, on the other hand, had no desire to stay silent. "Hey, kid," he muttered, the stench of a parent who had to "have a chat" with their child that they really did not want to have clinging to his every quiet syllable.

"Hi, Dad," I said, the words tumbling from my mouth just as quietly. I stared down into my lap.

"How's it goin'? Well, pretty crappy, I guess," he answered himself, simultaneously branding himself the third person to gesture awkwardly at my cuts rather than address them directly for what they were — the physical manifestation of the haunted mind of a twenty year old kid who'd long since lost the ability to care.

He took the seat previously occupied by Sollux and fumbled with his hands in his lap a few different ways before settling for leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his arms draped limply between them. "Do you mind if, uh... can I see?"

I turned my bandaged arms up to the light before resting them back on my thighs. "There's nothing to see."

He sat up straight, looking at the bandages with the most pained expression I'd ever seen him wear. "That's not nothing, Karkat."

"It kind of is, but whatever."

"Not whatever, that's—"

"Please," I snapped, whipping my head up to glare at him. "Dad. Can we not?"

His sigh met my ears. "Fine. We will talk about this though. Just not right now."

"Thank you," I murmured, looking away again.

"So, what's new?" he said, cheerful tone obviously forced.

"Um. Not much. I... I'm probably not gonna go back to college." He raised an eyebrow, an action I caught and pointedly ignored. "I beat one of the games I got for my birthday the other day. Uh... Sarah's pregnant. Rob's wife. Did you know that?"

He shook his head no. "I didn't. That's great, though. I'll be sure to congratulate her. Robert, too. There's nothing better than becoming a father, y'know?" I didn't know, but I'd sooner let him lose himself in the reminiscence of nostalgia and old memories than tell him that. "Getting to watch your kids as they're growing up, watch them make mistakes and, 'specially in your case, kiddo, hopefully learn from them. When they're little, teaching the little tykes to wobble around on their pudgy legs, teaching 'em to talk and hearing 'em do somethin' other than cry an' scream. I remember for a fact," he added with a smirking grin, "once yer mom and I got you talkin', we had the damnedest time gettin' you to shut up!" Judging by how hard he laughed at this bit of information, he obviously found it funny. I, on the other hand, despite the lack of other people around, looked away in embarrassment.

"Dad!" I groaned, wincing as though Sollux had heard and was off snickering to himself in the corner. I ignored the voice in the back of my head unhelpfully reminding me that Sollux most likely already knew that.

"Oh, hush boy," demanded my father, chuckling softly. "That's still hardly anything. When your kids get older, an' go off an' make their own decisions, goin' out ev'ry night while you as a parent are left hopin' they're actually where they say they're gon' be, actually with who they say they gon' be wit' — then we'll talk. Not that you'd know anything about it, eh, sport? I mean, you wouldn't, would ya? You don't got some kid 'cross the city that ain't nobody in the family knows 'bout, right?" There was a familiar teasing glint in my father's eye that I'd seen too many times in my childhood to count.

I couldn't help but laugh. "No, Dad, I don't. Well... I don't think I do, anyway," I teased back. He laughed right along with me, a deep, baritone guffaw.

When his laugh had dropped to a low chuckle, he asked, "Anything else to report, champ?"

Well.

There it was.

If there was ever a better chance to tell him, it wouldn't be in this conversation. "A-Actually, Dad, I—" And there goes that goddamn crack in my voice, fuck me. Could I sound any fucking more pathetic, Jesus fuckin' Christ.

"Um. C-Can I tell you something?" The question felt dry in my mouth, bitter and terrifying. I already knew what lay behind it. Disappointment, desperate statements meant only to hide it, or worse, open disgust. It wasn't as though my father had ever expressed repulsion towards gays, at least not in my presence, but he'd never publicly shown them any respect either. Then again, there were very few people of sexualities other than hetero in Oklahoma who were out, so it wasn't as though there had been many opportunities for him to do so.

"Of course, Karkat. Anything you need to tell me, I'm here. That's my job." A flash of gratitude shot through me for not having received an asshole for a dad on top of whatever other shitty cards life dealt me. It quickly vanished when I remembered what I had to tell him.

"Alright. Dad... I'm—" Bisexual. The noun rang in my mind, flashing various shades of fear and tantalizing rebellion.

It took my father prompting me with, "You're...?" to realize I hadn't actually said the last word aloud.

"Shit, sorry," I muttered, looking away. "Sorry," I repeated, taking a deep breath. "I'm—" Bisexual. "Dad, I'm—" Bisexual.

Fuck.

I could feel my mouth hanging open, expecting a word I couldn't force myself to spit out. It was on the tip of my brain, dying to break out and met with thick, iron bars built up over years of keeping it a secret. It stuck obstinately, bitter in my throat and threatening to, at any moments, dive back down and hide away forever.

"You're what, Karkat? Pregnant?" He laughed at his own joke, "I guess Sollux is the father, right? Seriously, kid. Spit it out."

"It's not... Dad, I can't just—" It was too late to go back, to not say anything, because now he knew that whatever it was was important. It was now or never, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that never wasn't an option. "I just gotta..." I shut my eyes tight and let out a quick, huffing breath before tensing my shoulders and announcing rapidly, "Dad, I'm bisexual."

"Oh."

Time froze. I couldn't open my eyes, there was pain shooting up my arms, I forgot to breathe — and then all at once, the world kept spinning. A bird flew by the window, squawking loudly, I rediscovered the wonders of breathing. I realized that the pain in my upper limbs was due to my tightly balled fists simultaneously digging nails in desperate need of a clipping into the balls of my palms and pulling ragged tendons taut underneath wide, healing scars and a clean white bandage.

The instant I loosened my hand, the floodgates were opened.

"I figured it out back in middle school," I said, words coming out of my mouth so quickly I couldn't even make out what I was saying. "Well, I guess I didn't really, but I realized that some guys were just as attractive to me as girls were, and I didn't really accept it until high school, even though I'd known for years before that, but I never told anyone except this one guy Trevor, and only after he told me first, and then me and him—"

"Karkat. Slow down," he told me, voice far more steady than mine. "Take a deep breath, and tell me."

I did what my dad said, taking a few breaths before launching into a story I'd told only twice before. I told him how Trevor never once hit me when we were together, though he often threatened to, and it wasn't until I tried to leave him that he actually did. How Trevor used to send his guys out to tail me after work, to knock me to the ground and beat me sometimes until I blacked out. I told him how, on the rare occasions when somebody had actually called the cops, they'd pull up on the street beside us and roll down their windows to tell them to stop, only to keep driving like they had never even seen me once the jeers of "faggot" met their ears.

"Do you remember Kanaya?" I asked when I'd finished, elaborating, "She died about a month ago."

"Yeah, I remember. Kanaya was a good kid, a real smart girl."

I smiled internally, picturing how she would have taken the compliment. "Did anyone tell you how she died?"

"A car accident, wasn't it?"

"Well... I guess you could put it that way. She had the right of way, her light was green, and—" I had to stop myself from relating what had happened in the dream I'd had after. That was clearly not what had happened, even though I couldn't help but wonder why I'd seen Vriska on the corner and at the funeral, even though she shouldn't have had any way of knowing. "She was hit by Trevor. He was drunk and Rob said an eyewitness reported he was way over the speed limit when they crashed. Him and the front passenger died on impact, and the two guys in the backseat of his truck died later. Kanaya died the same night, around two AM."

My dad paused, thinking hard. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Then he... your ex — er, Trevor. He's really gone, then? You don't... augh, this is fucking ridiculous," he interjected, shaking his head. "You don't have to worry about him anymore?"

I shook my head. "No. I actually hadn't seen him except once at the park after he broke my rib."

His eyes widened. "He broke your rib?" he boomed, jumping to his feet so suddenly the chair flew a good foot back before falling over with a loud clang. "Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me? I'd've killed 'im myself!"

"Dad, calm down," I implored. "It wasn't that big a deal, he hadn't even—"

"Wasn't a big deal, wasn't a big deal?" my dad shot back, staring at me a moment before beginning to pace the room. "Jesus Christ, Karkat, you're a Vantas, for fuck's sake. Vantases don't let pricks like him beat the shit out of them, let them break your rib, and then move on and forget about it and say, 'It wasn't a big deal,' because let me tell you, boy, if I was you, I'd have walked right up to that son of a bitch and popped him a good one, right in his smug little face. Nobody gets to treat my boy like that, no matter how little a deal it is, nobody. I can't believe you just stood by and let that bitch do whatever the hell he wanted to you, Christ, I'd'ave been up and outta there in a hot second, or fightin' right on back, not sittin' on my ass playin' punchin' bag for the sick bastard, fucking shit, kid, what if he'd killed you?

"Can you imagine, how I would'a felt? How your mother would'a felt, or your sister? How heart-broken Nepeta would be if you'd let yourself get killed?" He was still pacing back and forth, though his gaze never turned from me. Mine turned from him, though, at the memory of Nepeta's hopeless wailing when I told her Kanaya had died, at the thought of her wailing over me, instead. "What if you'd killed yourself, Karkat? What's so painful about your life that you think it's okay to hurt everyone like that?"

I shook my head, unable to come up with a viable answer.

"I love you, kid," he sighed, navigating back to his seat. "I love you. Your mom loves you. Your sister loves you. You're my son. There's nothing worse than watching you hurt yourself like this. Nothing. Can you promise me you'll stop?"

I shook my head. "I... I-I can't — y-you're—" I swallowed hard. "You're not... u-upset about my... about me being bi?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that what you think? You are who you are, Karkat, and if you wanna chase guys and girls, then I'm okay with that and I'll support that because I'm not that much of an asshole."

"Holy shit," I breathed, letting out a tiny chuckle and collapsing into myself as I let go of a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. "Uh... Dad?"

"Yes?"

"There's something else. I'm... Sollux and I are — we-we're together," I said quickly, wincing in fear of his reaction as I'd done for most of our conversation.

"About time, kid."

My eyes widened. "...Wh-What?"

He chuckled softly, reaching a hand out and ruffling my hair. "I was wondering when that would happen. You know, I had wondered about you. Sollux told his mom he was gay back when the two of you were in high school. You were always so close, so a'course I had my suspicions."

"You... did?" I repeated, dumbfounded.

"A father's going to wonder these things."

"Oh." I silently inspected the blanket after that. "You mean you—"

"It doesn't matter to me, an' it won't matter to anyone else. If they do have a problem wit' the two of ya, they're gonna answer to me."

"I can take care of myself, Dad." He shot me a pointed glare. I blinked in realization. "Oh. Uh. Right. Nevermind."

Continuing on as though I hadn't interrupted, he added, "I don't mean that to say I don't care about you, either. What doesn't matter to me is the kind of ass you're hittin'. What matters t' me is that you're happy. You could be a flaming homosexual with three husbands and the only thing I'd be concerned with is whether or not you were happy in your relationship. Er. Relationships. Safe and happy, Karkat. That's all any parent wants for their kids. Any parent worth half their weight in salt, anyway."

I sighed and looked away. "Thanks, Dad."

He smiled and ruffled my hair again. "Now. You wanna tell me something else, kiddo?"

"What?"

"Why are you doin' this shit? Why are you hurting yourself?"

I looked around the room as though the answer was hidden in the sheetrock. "It wasn't... nothing. It wasn't anything. Stupid. I won't do it anymore."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Pinky promise?"

I looked at my dad and rose my eyebrow at his outstretched pinky finger. "You're kidding, right?"

"Hell no! This is how we used to settle everything, you gotta pinky promise, kid, just like old times!"

The stare of disbelief on my face soon melted into a smile. As I locked my finger in his, grinning, I could have sworn my dad was a seven year old sometimes.

For those of you who weren't aware and/or give a shit, I am no longer with Lucas. I broke up with him and (think of me what you will), I'm now dating a guy at my school, Eric. He's sweet and wonderful and lovely and, I don't know, he makes me feel like I'm more than what I am, that I can make something of myself, which isn't something I've ever thought before. It's because of him that I now have real-world blowjob experience. I may consider changing some things. Maybe. Although, for the most part, I was able to do pretty much exactly what I wrote, so maybe not.

On the other hand, I don't know what's worse: me "becoming" Karkat insofar as his lack of will to live or move or breathe and self-harm goes, or me having felt this way and then having written it in. I'd be worried except that I don't care anymore. Anyway. Hope you liked the chapter guys.

And hey, y'know. If I don't end up killing myself, I'm working on getting a GED. Not sure the fuck kind of job I can get with that, but whatever I guess. Review, loves.