Chapter Text
It’s the little things that convince you today is the day.
It’s the way that Terezi rubs at her eyes when she wakes up.
(Like something’s wrong with them, like they’re not right.)
(And oh god you want to tell her why.)
It’s the way that John looks away when Rose and Kanaya kiss.
(It’s all your fault but he’s so close to happy now, but he still can’t look right at them.)
(Reminds you why you can’t say anything.)
It’s the way Eridan and Kanaya obsess over the new fashion lines together.
(You have to tell yourself that it’s good that they’re friends.)
(Memories tear you in half in an eerily familiar manner.)
And it’s the way Dave ignores you in favor of rapping with Tavros, while everyone else groans.
(You hate their raps more than most.)
(No one has ever asked you why.)
But most of all, it’s the way that all you don’t even have to close your eyes to see gray skin and yellow eyes, horns and claws and sharp teeth, god pajamas and heavy weaponry and broken faces, things that aren’t there.
You don’t tell anyone. You smile as much as you ever do, maybe a little more, and you try to enjoy your moments with them. You take mental snapshots each time someone smiles. If your mind was a camera, you’d need new film.
And then you part ways at the end of the day, after dinner, smiling softly to yourself as you make your way back to your apartment.
You unlock the door and kick off your shoes. You walk slowly to your room. You reach up and take your replica of Homes Smell Ya Later off the wall. You’ve tried to make replicas of all your weapons. Most are just plastic, but this was a gift from Equuis for your 20th birthday (10 sweeps old at last). These are sharp and real.
(He still doesn’t know why you like sickles so much.)
You think for a moment about where to do it. You wonder if you should make it more poetic, maybe leave a note, maybe pose dramatically.
But you’re tired of all the drama in your lives. And you’ve never been very poetic. And you want to leave a mess, because you always do, and at least you can be consistent.
So you just sit up on your bed with a sickle in hand. You run the curved blade gently along one wrist, just to test its sharpness.
It’s amazing how your blood used to torment you so. You’re still not completely comfortable with it, and you’ve never liked bleeding in public, but in private it is the last bodily tie you have to who you used to be. You find a small sort of relief in seeing that at least this has not changed.
It’s surprisingly easy to break the skin of your wrists. It barely hurts. But, you have a high pain tolerance. After all, you can remember worse. Much worse.
As the red flows and flows, you slowly black out. And for the first time in 21 years (10 ½ sweeps, you have to keep making conversions in your head, because sweeps is just … just better), you feel calm. You’re ready to go.
TG: yo karkat you left your cell phone at the restaurant
TG: karkat
TG: you there?
TG: wait shit i have your cell phone, no way you’re gonna get these
TG: shit
TG: why yes madam mayor, i will accept the nobel prize for science, lordie knows i'm the opposite of a moron
TG: anyway, sollux is bringing it to you
TG: cause he has a key
TG: yup
“KK?”
“KK, open up already.”
“You can’t be asleep already. That’s so lame.”
“Fuck it, I’m coming in.”
“KK where the fuck are you? Am I gonna have to wake you up? Shit, this isn’t going to go well.”
“Is your bedroom door seriously locked? Are you kidding me? Why the fuck do you lock your bedroom door? You live alone! Fuck, now I’m gonna have to pick it, because I absolutely have to wake you up and mock you about this.”
“Where the fuck are your paper clips? Do you seriously not have any?”
“Why are they in the kitchen? What the fuck, KK? Why would you put them there?”
“Okay … almost … got … it.”
“God I suck at this.”
“YES!”
“Haha, KK I can’t believe you slept through all – holy shit. KK what – what – shit – uh 911, right I should – I should call 911 – fuck that’s a lot of blood – shit – why’d you do that – Karkat – where’s a phone? – why isn’t your phone in its holder what the fuck this is an emergency and I can’t find the phone – shit, I’m holding a phone in my hand god I’m smart – hello? 911? My friend – my friend slit his wrists and I – there’s a ton of blood – I don’t know what to do – uh – 413 Knight Avenue, apartment 12c – I don’t know – I just found him like this – at least 20 minutes – probably more – shit, yeah, okay.”
“Fuck. Why – why did you – we literally saw you not an hour ago – you were happy – why didn’t you tell any of us – why didn’t you say anything – shit, KK, please don’t die. Please. I’m begging you. Just – just don’t die.”
“He’s in here! He’s in here! Please, can I come with him?”
“Family only? But that’s – that’s such bullshit! We’ve known each other since we were like 5, I should get – sorry. I’ll follow behind.”
“AA – can you – something’s happened. It’s Karkat. Shit, I just – I need you to drive me to the hospital. I don’t have time to explain. Yeah, at his apartment. See you soon.”
You don’t like waking up. You don’t like it one bit. For the first time ever, in this place, sleep is wonderful. No horrorterrors. No sleep rage. No dream bubbles full of the dead and doomed. Just … dreams. Memories. Asleep is how you prefer to be. You’ve only ever felt comfortable while asleep. Thus you have an extreme hatred of waking up. It’s worse when the light is sharp. Your eyes are sensitive, so you try to make sure the lights are off, but you never expected the afterlife to be considerate, so you don’t know why you’re surprised.
You hadn’t expected being dead to hurt this much.
You hadn’t expected to feel much at all, really. (Religion in this world is bullshit considering you know how the world was made, and you’ve never really thought you’d reach the dreambubbles from here, so you hadn’t expected an afterlife at all really.)
(You hope you’re in the dream bubbles. Maybe you’ll finally get your body back now.)
You swallow a couple times. Your throat feels rough.
“You’re awake.” That’s definitely a Dave. You wonder if it’s your Dave.
“Am I dead?” You’ve learned confirmation is always required. You’ve seen legitimate half death before, so you want to make sure you’re well and truly dead.
“No, but you gave it your best shot.”
“Fuck you if you think that was my best shot. I have way better shots in me. Shots so good whichever basketball player you like ironically is currently doubled over crying out tears of rage and hatred, because he knows that nothing he has will ever compare to my stored up shots.” You shouldn’t be surprised that you failed. You fuck everything up somehow. You hate yourself a little more for not even managing to kill yourself properly.
Dave doesn’t respond and you still don’t want to open your eyes. The lights are too bright and you’re tired as hell and if you don’t look you can still pretend that maybe he’s just shitting you and you’re really actually dead.
You hear a rustle of clothing as he gets up. He walks briskly across the room and opens the door. Fuck that’s a loud door. You hate that door.
“He’s awake.”
There’s some sort of commotion outside. You wonder how many of your friends are out there, wasting their days in waiting rooms because of you. You throw that into the giant pile of “Reasons why Karkat Vantas is the most useless organism to ever exist”, in the “Why does anyone still hang out with me?” section.
You think about trying to doze off again while they debate something stupid, but you’re well and truly awake now. You figure you might as well try to open your eyes.
Ow.
Take it like a man, Vantas.
The light is too bright and the room is too white and your head hurts but you keep your eyes open. You deserve this, you remind yourself.
You don’t look over at the door. You don’t want to see them right now. Which is terrible, because they all clearly want to see you. That goes in the pile too.
You miss piles. They’re not as comfortable now.
Dave actually leaves the room now. It’s some big debate apparently. You wonder what about. Probably about who gets to actually kill you about all this. Probably Kanaya. Or John. Actually, Jade’s most likely. That’s a nice thought really. You think Jade deserves the catharsis after all this time.
You spend five minutes daydreaming about Jade killing you. You decide in the end she’d probably just feed you to Bec. That shouldn’t make you as happy as it does.
The door opens again. You don’t look over to see who enters.
“What’s up with the big powwow out there? You all gonna come in and do a big dance around me? Make it rain?”
“Hospital rules. Two at a time. Had to decide who got first.” The lisp means it’s Sollux. He’s oddly quiet.
“You must be fucking ecstatic then. Duality fetish. Surprised you didn’t come in second just for kicks.” You close your eyes again.
“Wow, amazing how you’re still such an asshole.” He’s closer to normal volume now. That’s better.
“Why’d you win first go anyway? Did you call dibs on me? Didn’t know you wanted to see me so bad, fuckass, you shoulda just told me. Don’t worry, the minute I’m out I’ll make an honest man of you.”
There’s a really uncomfortable pause. You wonder who the other person is. They’re quiet. That rules out John, Terezi, Vriska, Nepeta, Feferi, Eridan, and Jade. Maybe it’s Aradia. She and Sollux would come in together.
“We figured he gets first visit, seeing as he’s the one who found you.” You wince. Fuck. Sollux really didn’t need to see that. You hadn’t thought about who found you. Or why. Shit.
“What about you? What gave you firsties, Strider?” This moment goes in the pile too, under “Lashing out at people who just want to help even though they’re fucking useless wrigglers”. It happens more often than you’d think.
“Karkat,” shit Sollux is serious, he’s not calling you KK, shit shit shit. “Why’d you do it?” It’s so soft you almost don’t hear it. You squeeze your eyes tighter shut and wonder if you can just pretend it was too quiet. “Answer me.”
You don’t. You really don’t feel like it.
“We would have understood, you know.” You crack a smile at Dave. Then you giggle a little. Giggle is really the only word for it, it’s girly and high and completely embarrassing, but you can’t find another word that fits. It doesn’t stop either, just works its way from a giggle to a short sharp laugh to a fit that you can’t stop, shaking and laughing and crying and Dave and Sollux don’t say anything but you can feel their hands hovering close to you, completely unsure what to do about this.
You laugh yourself hoarse. You don’t stop for half an hour at least. It’s painful and sad and bitter and hilarious all at the same time. They’ll understand. Please. That’s just hilarious. That’s the funniest thing Dave’s ever said. Like they could. Like they wouldn’t think you’re crazy. Like you wanted them too. Like you wanted them understand exactly how fucked up you are and why and what that means about them.
Like you wanted them to remember.
Please.
You wouldn’t wish that on any of them. Ever.
You’d only ever wish it on you.