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Description
You let out a heavy sigh, head resting in your hands as you try to chase away the lingering shame that nags at your thoughts. You glance towards the large, red recuperacoon in the corner of the respiteblock and can just scarcely see the outline of Gamzee's sopor slicked back through the opening. Guilt coils your guts into a spiraled knot and pangs your beat pump when your eyes graze over his slumbering form. You shake your head and give an angry exhalation, the action almost sounding like a soft sigh. Your mind goes back to the conversation you had with him hours beforehand, replaying in your head like a film on loop.

He had apologized, over and over and over again and each time you had forgiven him. Each time you calmly pap'd and rubbed his back, murmuring soft words and coaxing each and every reason of why he did what he did out and into the open.

"They all have to motherfuckin hate me."

It felt like your blood bladder was being slowly crushed as he quietly sobbed the explanations out into your shoulder.

"...I bludgeoned her fucking skull in..."

A great weight had settled in the pit of your food bag and a lump had formed in your air tunnel as it dawned on you that you could have, no, you should have done what any moirail would have done and fixed the problem before it had gotten this far.

"...a-and I cut off their motherfuckin heads..."

And that was just what you're trying to do now.

You glance back over at the open husktop, recent Trollian log still open to display the conversation with your jade blooded friend even though she was long gone from her own computer; probably on her way here now. If anyone could help you fix this heaping pile of twisted shit it would be her, and you almost let out another sigh at that one small comfort.

You glance around the room once again, eyes running over the general mess of things but refusing to linger on the beehive like recuperacoon that your moirail was now resting in. His whole hive was in such a state of filth and disrepair it was a wonder you hadn't broken something while getting him from the floor of the cookingblock to the hygeinblock and then to his respiteblock, like your neck. Horns and empty Faygo bottles and filthy pie tins littered the floors and stairs and everywhere in-between, their rotting contents giving the place a nauseating smell. Dirty clothes were strewn in almost every room, lying in crumpled piles where ever he happened to drop them.

It was just another reminder of how far and hard your friend had fallen and how you weren't there to catch him until it was almost too late.

You look towards the door leading to the beach and inwardly grimace at the thought of the ocean. Never again will you like the beach or those murderous salt waters you used to play in as a wriggler. You grumble and pull your still sore body from the chair you were slouched in, your clothes crackling at the movement and you look down to see dried salt falling from the creases of your pants. Your face twists into a deep frown and you mutter a soft curse. You don't want to leave the room, fearing that he will wake up when you're gone and try to off himself again; but the thought of being clean and rid of the harsh salt and sand was too sweet a temptation to pass up. With another inward sigh you give in and quietly walk towards the hygeinblock.

You somehow managed to peel the stiff clothing from your body. Grit that was once trapped by pants and shirt fell free to litter the already soiled floor. The water was nearly scalding when you finally stepped into the ablution trap and a groan escapes your lips as the hot liquid cascades down your shoulders and back. Your hand is resting on the tiled wall facing you, arm outstretched and holding you up as you bask in the glorious heat running down your exhausted form. You reach blindly for hair cleanser but find none and an empty curse echoes through the room. Wiping water from your vision you scan the tub but only find a worn down bar of solid cleanser and a damp, musky smelling rag with black mold growing on it. You make a face mirroring the disgust you feel and pull the plastic curtain back to look about the room for cleanser. Cool air hits your flushed skin and chill bumps ripple across your arms and chest and you spit out a patented Karkat imprecation. There is no cleanser in sight and with a huff you jerk the curtain closed. You glare at the solid white bar with smoldering contempt, picking it up with clawed fingers before angrily scrubbing it against your head and body.

You resist leaving the temporary sanctuary of the shower, preferring to linger in the steam choked warmth and let the water wash away your thoughts for a brief time. There is a small, nagging voice in your head whispering that you're only wasting time by hiding like this. It calls you a coward for staying, for running from the problems at hand, for telling it to shut up because it's just a part of your fucking mind. Then it's no longer whispering what a coward you are, its screaming that you're the biggest piece of shit in the entire universe for not being there for your best fucking friend and other bad voices are joining the chorus of wails inside your head until finally you shut off the water in an angry rush and take a few deep, calming breaths.

"Fuck you." You mutter to your conscience and step out of the ablution trap.

You're dripping puddles and your wet feet re-collect sand and grit like a magnet. You're starting to shiver, the heat slowly seeping away from your steam kissed flesh and you hurriedly search for a clean towel. With a relieved sigh you find one, tucked away forgotten in the corner of the storage receptacle. You dry yourself and rub the towel violently over your dripping hair, tangling it up but you can't find the energy to care.

You wrap the dampened cloth around your hips and stalk out of the balmy room. Your feet carry you back to his respiteblock in hopes of finding clean clothes. He hasn't seemed to move within the recuperacoon and for that you're grateful, you don't want to have to face him again just yet. You pull open the door to his clothing receptacle and mutter a venomous oath at its empty hangers. A pair of crumpled grey and black polka dotted pants are discovered in the back corner and you pull them violently out, sending bits of dust and lint flying into the air. You shake them out and pull them on, tying the drawstring tightly. There huge on you, the legs falling well below your feet and you keep tugging them up so you don't trip. There wasn't a clean shirt to be found so you reluctantly go without.

Trollian was blinking; someone was trying to troll you while you were away. You pull up the chat and scan the teal text. Terezi asked what your plan was, Kanaya must have told her the conversation the two of you had earlier and you growl as you type out your reply. You wait briefly before she cackles back and tells you it's brilliant. You can't help the way the corners of your mouth curve up softly at her praise. You sign off in a huff and close the chat.

You're at the front of his hive now, cleaning because you can't just sit around with your thoughts anymore. Your picking up rancid pie tins and stuffing them into a bag held at arm's length when a firm knock echoes throughout the house. Your beat pump comes to a screeching halt and your blood turns to ice in your veins before your think pan kicks in and you realize it's been a few hours and it's probably Kanaya. You set the bag down and venture to the door being knocked upon.

"Who is it?" You ask, throwing as much venom as you can into the question; trying to mask the quiver in your voice.

"Kanaya." Comes the well pronounced reply and you fling the door open for the waiting troll.

She smiles at you, a soft look in her jade colored eyes and beckons you into her waiting arms. You step into the embrace as your emotions threaten to spill over as she hugs you warmly. Nothing is said and actions truly do speak louder than words in this small moment. She pulls away to look at you, her hands on your bare shoulders as she studies your face. You don't know what she's looking for but her expression softens into one of understanding and you choke back a sob as she pulls you to her chest for another hug.

"It is going to be ok, Karkat. I promise." She murmurs quietly into your knotted hair and you nod your head as tears prick your eyes once again.

Description
You let out a heavy sigh, head resting in your hands as you try to chase away the lingering shame that nags at your thoughts. You glance towards the large, red recuperacoon in the corner of the respiteblock and can just scarcely see the outline of Gamzee's sopor slicked back through the opening. Guilt coils your guts into a spiraled knot and pangs your beat pump when your eyes graze over his slumbering form. You shake your head and give an angry exhalation, the action almost sounding like a soft sigh. Your mind goes back to the conversation you had with him hours beforehand, replaying in your head like a film on loop.

He had apologized, over and over and over again and each time you had forgiven him. Each time you calmly pap'd and rubbed his back, murmuring soft words and coaxing each and every reason of why he did what he did out and into the open.

"They all have to motherfuckin hate me."

It felt like your blood bladder was being slowly crushed as he quietly sobbed the explanations out into your shoulder.

"...I bludgeoned her fucking skull in..."

A great weight had settled in the pit of your food bag and a lump had formed in your air tunnel as it dawned on you that you could have, no, you should have done what any moirail would have done and fixed the problem before it had gotten this far.

"...a-and I cut off their motherfuckin heads..."

And that was just what you're trying to do now.

You glance back over at the open husktop, recent Trollian log still open to display the conversation with your jade blooded friend even though she was long gone from her own computer; probably on her way here now. If anyone could help you fix this heaping pile of twisted shit it would be her, and you almost let out another sigh at that one small comfort.

You glance around the room once again, eyes running over the general mess of things but refusing to linger on the beehive like recuperacoon that your moirail was now resting in. His whole hive was in such a state of filth and disrepair it was a wonder you hadn't broken something while getting him from the floor of the cookingblock to the hygeinblock and then to his respiteblock, like your neck. Horns and empty Faygo bottles and filthy pie tins littered the floors and stairs and everywhere in-between, their rotting contents giving the place a nauseating smell. Dirty clothes were strewn in almost every room, lying in crumpled piles where ever he happened to drop them.

It was just another reminder of how far and hard your friend had fallen and how you weren't there to catch him until it was almost too late.

You look towards the door leading to the beach and inwardly grimace at the thought of the ocean. Never again will you like the beach or those murderous salt waters you used to play in as a wriggler. You grumble and pull your still sore body from the chair you were slouched in, your clothes crackling at the movement and you look down to see dried salt falling from the creases of your pants. Your face twists into a deep frown and you mutter a soft curse. You don't want to leave the room, fearing that he will wake up when you're gone and try to off himself again; but the thought of being clean and rid of the harsh salt and sand was too sweet a temptation to pass up. With another inward sigh you give in and quietly walk towards the hygeinblock.

You somehow managed to peel the stiff clothing from your body. Grit that was once trapped by pants and shirt fell free to litter the already soiled floor. The water was nearly scalding when you finally stepped into the ablution trap and a groan escapes your lips as the hot liquid cascades down your shoulders and back. Your hand is resting on the tiled wall facing you, arm outstretched and holding you up as you bask in the glorious heat running down your exhausted form. You reach blindly for hair cleanser but find none and an empty curse echoes through the room. Wiping water from your vision you scan the tub but only find a worn down bar of solid cleanser and a damp, musky smelling rag with black mold growing on it. You make a face mirroring the disgust you feel and pull the plastic curtain back to look about the room for cleanser. Cool air hits your flushed skin and chill bumps ripple across your arms and chest and you spit out a patented Karkat imprecation. There is no cleanser in sight and with a huff you jerk the curtain closed. You glare at the solid white bar with smoldering contempt, picking it up with clawed fingers before angrily scrubbing it against your head and body.

You resist leaving the temporary sanctuary of the shower, preferring to linger in the steam choked warmth and let the water wash away your thoughts for a brief time. There is a small, nagging voice in your head whispering that you're only wasting time by hiding like this. It calls you a coward for staying, for running from the problems at hand, for telling it to shut up because it's just a part of your fucking mind. Then it's no longer whispering what a coward you are, its screaming that you're the biggest piece of shit in the entire universe for not being there for your best fucking friend and other bad voices are joining the chorus of wails inside your head until finally you shut off the water in an angry rush and take a few deep, calming breaths.

"Fuck you." You mutter to your conscience and step out of the ablution trap.

You're dripping puddles and your wet feet re-collect sand and grit like a magnet. You're starting to shiver, the heat slowly seeping away from your steam kissed flesh and you hurriedly search for a clean towel. With a relieved sigh you find one, tucked away forgotten in the corner of the storage receptacle. You dry yourself and rub the towel violently over your dripping hair, tangling it up but you can't find the energy to care.

You wrap the dampened cloth around your hips and stalk out of the balmy room. Your feet carry you back to his respiteblock in hopes of finding clean clothes. He hasn't seemed to move within the recuperacoon and for that you're grateful, you don't want to have to face him again just yet. You pull open the door to his clothing receptacle and mutter a venomous oath at its empty hangers. A pair of crumpled grey and black polka dotted pants are discovered in the back corner and you pull them violently out, sending bits of dust and lint flying into the air. You shake them out and pull them on, tying the drawstring tightly. There huge on you, the legs falling well below your feet and you keep tugging them up so you don't trip. There wasn't a clean shirt to be found so you reluctantly go without.

Trollian was blinking; someone was trying to troll you while you were away. You pull up the chat and scan the teal text. Terezi asked what your plan was, Kanaya must have told her the conversation the two of you had earlier and you growl as you type out your reply. You wait briefly before she cackles back and tells you it's brilliant. You can't help the way the corners of your mouth curve up softly at her praise. You sign off in a huff and close the chat.

You're at the front of his hive now, cleaning because you can't just sit around with your thoughts anymore. Your picking up rancid pie tins and stuffing them into a bag held at arm's length when a firm knock echoes throughout the house. Your beat pump comes to a screeching halt and your blood turns to ice in your veins before your think pan kicks in and you realize it's been a few hours and it's probably Kanaya. You set the bag down and venture to the door being knocked upon.

"Who is it?" You ask, throwing as much venom as you can into the question; trying to mask the quiver in your voice.

"Kanaya." Comes the well pronounced reply and you fling the door open for the waiting troll.

She smiles at you, a soft look in her jade colored eyes and beckons you into her waiting arms. You step into the embrace as your emotions threaten to spill over as she hugs you warmly. Nothing is said and actions truly do speak louder than words in this small moment. She pulls away to look at you, her hands on your bare shoulders as she studies your face. You don't know what she's looking for but her expression softens into one of understanding and you choke back a sob as she pulls you to her chest for another hug.

"It is going to be ok, Karkat. I promise." She murmurs quietly into your knotted hair and you nod your head as tears prick your eyes once again.