Bubbling noises made their way to the surface of his consciousness. Deep rumbles, as if trapped underwater. He could breathe. Or could he? It was hard to tell; nothing was really making sense. The darkness was just growling at him, urging him. Threatening him. This state of mind seemed dangerous, almost deadly. He had to tell Karkat. Karkat could make everything soft pastels again, replacing the deep darkness that was around him now.
Somehow though, he found a strange comfort in this nothing. This deep, lonely abyss. No one was hear. No one could say anything to or about him; and if they did, why would he care if he's here and they're there.
The grumbling grew louder, almost deafening, but for Gamzee that was a wonderful thing. He can't stand the silence. It leaves him alone to think about things. Things Karkat said weren't good things to think. The growling gave him a focus point, keeping his mind out of the waves of rituals that can plague him.
Rituals.
Rituals.
Rituals.
This word is eerie. Weirdly familiar. It has the same weight as the word 'dangerous' does. He doesn't really identify with those words, but those words seem to identify with him. Usually that's quite worrying, but right now in this dark; why would it matter?
Karkat would be mad. Mad that these thoughts are so clear. Maybe that's not why, actually. He would worry. He's a worrier, always on Gamzee about one thing or another. Telling him the right fro the wrong and holding his hand. Being so kind and so gentle and sweet.
Disgusting.
The deep bubbles turned to bright red sirens. Blasting and blaring. Everything was so bright, but so dark all at once. The bright red piercing through Gamzee. It hurt.
Disgusting.
Terrible.
Wretched.
Aggravating.
The sirens drowned coherent thought. Suddenly, everything was scattered. Nothing was making sense. He couldn't breathe, this time he was sure. The red was drowning him.
Ugly.
It was hot.
Unworthy.
Something was on him. It was burning.
Unlovable.
Stop.
Freakish.
Stop.
Sinful.
Stop.
Mutation.
"Stop!" Everything was quiet. His eyes were open and everything was pastel again. He could see the ceiling. No one was around. No one was there. He dragged himself off the floor, tripping over his own legs.
What was that…? He couldn't remember much of it. It had something to do with Karkat….maybe? Or was it the water? It was all slipping away, soon he was left standing in the middle of the floor. Just thinking.
"Red. Karkat." Gamzee uttered. That's all he could remember. Nothing else came to mind. No matter how deep he tried to go, or how much he tried to dig. Nothing came up. "Hm...Karkat is red?" Nothing was making sense suddenly. "No..." He was confusing himself already. Trying to piece together a puzzle without even seeing the picture. "Karkat is pale. Not red..." Surely he didn't feel flushed for his bro. That wouldn't make any sense.
But why else would he dream of red?
He sat back down on the floor, trying to figure out his dream.
Did he even have a dream? Or was it a thought?
Are they the same thing?
Can you think in a dream?
…
"Hm. Fuckin' shit, the world is full of confusing and miraculous things. Dreams must be one of them." Gamzee smiled, searching around the floor for his husk-top. Karkat would love to hear about this. "Maybe thoughts are too? Maybe I just think that I'm thinkin' right now, when really I'm dreaming?" He had to stop typing to figure that one out.
Oh? Karkat wasn't online. "Oh motherfuck...where's my little pale bro gone to."
"What?"
He froze. That was not what he expected to hear. Turning around, he saw just who he was looking for. "Kar!" How exciting. His best friend was here and he didn't even know about it. "I was just about to get typing to you about some wicked shit I just thought about!" He was grinning. It was large and toothy, as it always was. Genuinely happy.
"I've been here for three hours, dick bag. You've been sleeping your fucking life cells away and you wouldn't wake up." He was grumpy. Precious. Karkat always had so much anger when he spoke, Gamzee has always admired him for being able to speaks his mind and insult people at the same time. Truly a skill that not just anyone can have.
"Have you? Oh, I'm sorry bro. You know how it is when you, like, fall asleep and shit."
"Yea asswipe, you sleep. No shit."
Gamzee continued to smile, Karkat immediately putting him into a sense of familiarity. This was nice.
"What does red mean again?"
Red.
"Red?"
Gamzee nodded, gesturing for Karkat to sit down with him.
"Red is flushed idiot. The romance quadrant? Ring a bell?" He nearly growled taking a seat next to Gamzee.
He nodded again, this time a little slower. That doesn't make sense to him. "Nothing else is red?"
"What?" Karkat looked a little taken aback, not liking the sudden questions.
"Is that the only red there is?"
"...yea. I guess so...why?" This may be getting dangerous.
"Well, remember my dream? It was all kinds of red, like real red. And I know you were in the dream too, but I can't remember what you were up to." He tried to think back again. "But that's all I got. My dream was red and you were in it. So I got to thinkin' about that red quadrant you talk about so much and how red that is." Karkat slowly made his way closer to Gamzee, a new expression upon his features. "But I know that you are my palest bro and I really love being all diamonds with you, so I was confused as to why I would be dreaming in red when I feel so pale?"
Karkat was silent, an intense gaze set directly to Gamzee.
He took the silence as a confirmation. "Doesn't make sense, right? That's what I thought, so I figured it must be something different. Maybe another kind of red?"
Karkat pressed his hands to Gamzee's cheeks, papping gently. "Can we not talk about your inability to separate and understand quadrants like a normal fucking troll?" His voice was soft, like it was an actual request. The tone in his voice added a 'please' on the end without him having to say it.
That was weird.
"Well...okay then. Is it really gonna be okay if we just leave it alone?" Gamzee may or may not have been a little worried at this point, Karkat was hardly ever so docile.
"Yea, it'll be okay. I promise."
A promise is a promise they say. It's just words. And sadly for some, words cannot change fate.