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You deserve it, don’t you.
Yeah. Yeah, you do.
Your poor, unfortunate moirail, who is the sweetest troll in all of paradox space and wouldn’t even hurt a buzzcreature under normal circumstances, has killed two of your friends in cold indigo blood and is now hatefucking your ex-flush-pitch crush.
And it’s all your fault, because you are a horrible moirail, and you deserve it for the exact same reason.
You thump your head back down on your knees as the tears start flowing faster. At this rate, your human sleep slat (concupiscent platform, as Strider once jokingly dubbed it) is going to be soaked. You’re pretty sure every troll on the meteor can smell the fact that you’re bawling your eyes out, and you hate that.
You curl up into a little ball and bury your face in a pillow.
There he is there he is he smells like an enemy kill him wait, no he this is his fault, he’s the reason you’re like this no it isn’t did he ever help you with the voices? but it isn’t his fault he couldn’t fix you he was motherfucking trying to though NOT HARD ENOUGH.
Yes, do it but he’s now, while he’s your moirail vulnerable vulnerable yes, vulnerable he is vulnerable yes, so kill him now look at him.
He’s not just vulnerable yes he is yes he is yes he is so KILL HIM RIhe’s broken.
No he isn’t.
Yes he is, he’s broken he’s too late for remorse the damage is done damage? Yes damage, look what he did to you did he do that? Yes, this is his fault but he’s my moirail.
Not any more why not? Because he broke you, you stupid oaf, he broke you instead of making you better and WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE MOTHERFUCKING TIME BUT BREAKING HIM RIGHT BACK?!?
He whips around.
Did I say that out loud? Yes you did, you fucking idiot, now KILL HIM
He smells like an enemy so KILL HItears.
Silence. Miracle of motherfucking miracles.
“Have you been crying, brother?”
They’re getting louder again get OUT DON’T TRY AND FIX HIM LOOK WHAT HE DID TO YOU but if I don’t fix him who else will? Nobody, don’t you UNDERSTAND you WANT him broken what’s he saying? YOU DON’T CARE yes I do, he’s my moirail NO HE’S NOT!
“Karkat?”
You hold out your arms.
Stop that you’re too loud you’re hurting me KILL HIM! No why would I do that because you want to no I don’t yes you do no you want to no he’s my moirail NO HE’S NOT! Then why do I pity him so motherfucking much?
“Tell a brother what’s wrong?”
Tell me that. If he’s not my moirail, then why do I pity him like this.
He sobs. He sobs.
Look at him.
They’re quiet.
He doesn’t move.
“Please?”
A whisper.
Indigo blurring your vision. Tracing down your cheek. Smearing your paint?
Another sob. He turns away.
You lunge forwards, across the whatever-it-is he’s on (bed? someone may have called it that), and wrap your arms around him, clutching him to your chest like you’ll break if you lose him.
You came here to kill him, the voices remind. They’re angry. Quietly angry.
You tell them to shut up.
He sobs.
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