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You’re sitting there, on the couch, watching him stumble over his words, tripping and falling over the sounds coming from his lips, but seemingly unable to stop them. You watch him grab at his hair, messing it up, combing it back down. You watch him rub his eyes under his glasses, doing his best to pass it off as wiping away exhaustion. And finally you watch him break, taking a deep breath to continue talking but instead of words a sob escapes him and he sits back and takes off his glasses and you see that his red irises are surrounded by sclera stained pink from crying and he has deep bags under his eyes and he has a scar high up on his right cheek and you watch him stare at the ceiling with eyes glued shut and you watch silent tears squeeze between his eyelids and you hear his shallow, gasping breaths and you feel like shit.
And when you can’t take it anymore you reach over and touch him as gently as possible, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder and when he finally turns to face you the fear etched into his eyes breaks your heart and so you use your free hand to rip your shades from your face and you grab his as well and place them on the floor and turning back to him red meets orange and you pull him close and wrap both arms tightly around him and you hold him close until the fresh onslaught of sobs dies down and then you stroke his back and calmly murmur into his ear.
“I’m not here to make excuses. What he did to you is unjustifiable and I’m not going to waste my time or yours trying to defend that god awful son of a bitch. Instead I will sit with you and do whatever the fuck you want me to and I won’t make you wear those goddamn glasses and you can cry or not or whatever the fuck and then I’m going to do everything I fucking can to make absolutely fucking positive that I become the older brother you deserve. That’s a goddamn promise okay do you hear me I swear to be the parent you never got and the brother you always wanted and I swear to never become that disgusting piece of toxic waste you had to fucking deal with Dave I swear on anything in this goddamn universe. “
And he nods into your shoulder and you feel your t-shirt sticking to your chest, wet with his tears and you stroke his hair and you hear him mutter a reply into one of your pecs.
“I think that I’m just gonna chill here for a bit.”
And you rest your chin on the top of his head and tell him that’s fine and later that evening you sit with Roxy. You both silently watch as Karkat gesticulates wildly, deeply engaged in conversation with Rose and Dave and you watch as Rose trips and Dave swoops her out of the air and says something dumb about how she sure fell for him there and then you and Roxy grin at each other as Rose bats him away and reaffirms her disinterest in both heterosexuality and incest. And as Dave drags the other two over to you and stretches you recall a conversation you had what seems like ages ago. When he plops himself next to Roxy and tells her that he needs some Mother-Daughter bonding you think that sure you’re not his parent and sure you, and for that matter Roxy, still have no business raising anyone, but being a brother. That you can do. You reach over and give Dave a light punch on the shoulder, and he responds with a grin and a “Hey, Bro.” Being a brother is good, and again you promise to be a better one this time around.