well jesus christ i'm not scared of dying

[crab]

WHO: dumb (dragony) and dumber (crab)
WHERE: their assigned place of residence.
WHEN: late evening january 15th, after all the new arrival shenanigans.
WHAT: karkat died, their universe died, and rua didn't make the universe cross. it's been a rough week.
WARNINGS: heavy profanity, probable discussion of death.

[ After everything he's gone through over the past few days, from his perspective, the only word to describe Karkat's sentiments when he's dropped off at his new place is exhaustion. By the time he pushes his way through the front door and steps over the threshold of the unfamiliar hive, he's pretty sure that he is capable of sleeping for at least a week, daymares be fucked.

He's so tired that any emotional feedback from someone who might have been dropped off before him is nothing more than indistinct background noise, for the moment. The door slams behind him, the sound offensively sharp. ]

Comments

[crab]

I. Am. An empath. [ Karkat's hand withdraws from her shoulder for the purpose of dragging it down his face. ] I literally know how you feel! I can't not know, even if I don't want to!

[dragony]

And for all that, you still don't understand the first thing about how I feel.

[crab]

[ He doesn't have the energy to fight her, the way he would under normal circumstances. He can't get angry. He's all burnt out on anger. All at once, the tension and aggression in both his posture and expression seems to drain away, and he's left feeling very small. ]

I try to. [ Is the soft response. ] But you don't make it easy.

[dragony]

It feels like, you always try to tell me how I should feel. [ her voice softens to his, though her arms draw tighter around herself. ] How you think I should, anyway. Like what's really there doesn't matter.

[crab]

It's not how you should feel. I know how you feel. Better now than I ever did before, even. The point is you aren't honest about it. Not even with yourself! Do you understand how infuriating that can get? It's like you're insulting my intelligence, when you try to pretend you feel one thing when we both know it's something else.

[dragony]

See? I'm not pretending anything.

Maybe the picture isn't as clear as you think it is... or, maybe it's only the words we use, that don't match up.

But, you never separate it from yourself, do you? When it's someone else's heart in your chest.

[crab]

Or maybe you spend so much time lying that you don't even register when you do it anymore. [ He snaps back at her -- her final comment has him bristling. ]

[dragony]

[ she's sure her other eye is going to roll right out of her skull. ]

You never believe me. Do you? Does it even matter what I say anymore?

[ there's flippancy, old gray walls and thick gray fogs, a sense of hurt no stronger than embers suffocating and going dark in the cold. (if ever it was a flame, neither light nor heat of it remain.) ]

[crab]

I'm not trying to... [ This is exactly what he wanted to avoid doing and here he goes doing it again. ] I'm not trying to wave it over your head, or humiliate you, or anything. I'm just. Trying to tell you. That it's okay to let yourself be upset about this.

And-- it helps to talk about it. I'd hope that you're already aware that you can talk to me, but it bears reiterating. I'm not trying to be a jackass about this, okay, I'm sorry if I've approached this completely wrong, I just want you to know. I want to be there for you.

[ His speech grows progressively more halting and reluctant, as he goes on. ]

I don't want you to make this all about me. He's your genetic similar.

[dragony]

Brother. [ tired, tired, tired, even for a correction. but with his aggressive attack easing back, the tightness of her shoulders eases. ] Twin brother.

But... I can't. I can't let myself do that, even if I wanted to.

[ she bites her lower lip, pausing momentarily, before realizing how he'll take a denial like that. ]

I'm not talking about you. I trust you, because I know I can. But... you're asking me to do something that I can't do.

[crab]

[ As is standard, he can't believe that she trusts him. Too much has spoken to the contrary, over the past year -- it will take more than saying it to convince him otherwise.

His own arms fold across his chest, mirroring her posture. ]

Can't talk about it, or can't be honest with yourself about it?

[dragony]

Neither.

[crab]

Neither. [ The repetition is meant as a question, but comes out rather flat, considering it's said with a sigh. ]

[dragony]

You said, it's okay, to for me to let myself be upset.

But it's not, because I can't.

[crab]

Why?

[dragony]

If I let myself feel everything in my heart, it's not the kind of thing I can put all back again.

[ her gaze is heavy-lidded, and the scratches on her face look so much richer in color for how little there seems to be in her complexion. ]

What does my heart feel like to you, anyway?

[crab]

[ The question takes him off-guard -- one of his arms comes unraveled from the knot he's tied them in, comes up to rub at his temple. ]

Like a crowd, sometimes, but... muted. [ The answer comes slowly, carefully. ] Your heart changes, but the background noise doesn't. It's static. Constant, like white noise.

[ There's a beat of hesitation, before, much quieter: ]

You're lonely.

[dragony]

[ As he goes on, it's not entirely what she expects him to say, but there wasn't any to know how he would answer. There isn't any way for her to know how much of what she keeps restrained truly is, aside from how she thinks she feels.

It's a comfort to know he only gets the sound, but not the content, of what resides in that "crowd." Anything more than that, and she wouldn't be able to let herself into his presence at all.

When he finishes, her hands tighten, almost ready to deny the claim—

—but that much is undeniable, isn't it? ]

... I suppose I asked for that.

[crab]

I wish I could help. [ I wish I was good enough, rather, as he continues to be utterly delusional. ]

[dragony]

I grew up with monsters. Spirits, that only I could hear, or see. Even when their whole world catered to me, I felt lonely. Even growing up with Rua, I was...

[ her hands release her arms, but they make no move to settle elsewhere. ]

I wanted you to notice the "white noise."

[crab]

It's hard not to, to be perfectly honest. [ When her posture opens, Karkat's own relaxes as well -- with it, the last of the tense, verging on a fight atmosphere drains away. ] I've been around you for a long time.

[dragony]

... [ It feels like risk, to admit even this much, but... she trusts him, doesn't she?

She thought she was never going to see him again.

Can't she say at least this much? ]

I've been like this for a very long time. ... but if I don't keep my own heart steady, then it won't be noise. It won't be anything benign.

It's terrifying. The real voices in that crowd.

[ For the first time, she looks up to meet Karkat's eyes; hers is a single bloodshot eye in a pallid face, and she looks so tired—

—and so grave. ]

You know.

[crab]

[ You know.

He does know, doesn't he? It was more than a year ago, but it's not something you just forget. In all his time as an empath, he's never lost his sense of self so completely as he did when introduced to the real voices in that crowd. So loud that there wasn't any room for anything, anyone else.

Comprehension and understanding is in his face, and he has to stifle the urge to reach out, and cup hers, hands curling into fists. He's already tried that. He knows better. ]

I know, [ said as much as an affirmation to himself -- I know -- as to her. ] I remember. I know what it's like.

[dragony]

It's always like that.

[ She doesn't say the words as confession, or to solicit his pity, or caring. It's always like that. She has a heart condition. She's human.

Statements, only. ]

So... I can't. If I let myself feel hurt, it's... too easy for them to muddle together. Do you understand? [ It's not quite sadness in her expression; weariness, more. Tired, always so tired-looking. She ducks her head, gaze dropping, a hand moving to fuss with her hair. ]

My heart's not strong enough to feel it all at once. Not again.

[crab]

[ He wants to tell her that she's not the one who has to be strong enough. Wants to shoulder the responsibility of keeping that cacophony contained himself. The impulse is an ache, an emotional contusion. He wants to be the one to keep her safe. She looks so tired, and all he wants is to take the weight of her burdens from her. ]

Yeah, I-- I get it. [ But there's no way she'd let him, no way she'd understand or comprehend the implications. And what would it be like, if she turned out right, and he vanished before she did? What position would he be leaving her in, if he took that responsibility, only to abandon her?

He fidgets, uncomfortable, hands fussing over one another, the hem of his sweater, to keep them from doing anything he doesn't permit them to. ] You could at least admit that that's how you would feel, though, if you weren't suppressing it.