Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been over a year since you last saw Gamzee.

Over a year since he went insane.

Over a year, your conscience echoes.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a dream bubble. Which isn’t too often, you try not to sleep a lot.

The dreams. They sting.

Everything from the past has been accumulated into these random glimpses of dead people and forgotten places. You think the one that hurts most is… all of them. Every troll, every place. Your old respiteblock. Your lawnring. Old things, clawing and scraping into your soul.

You hardly believe you can take any more of it. The memories so tightly meshed with exaggerated nightmares.

Hussie’s become pissed. He always asks for more, of which you simply cannot provide. You know he does this to help everyone to cope, but you don’t think he quite understands the pain. Coming into each day, more angry and tired than the last.

He tells your tale.

In one of the worst ways, you think.

You think. Don’t speak.

You haven’t actually spoken in a while. You watch. You learn. You perceive. Kanaya tries to help you, tries to side with you in your bouts with Hussie, but she knows you won’t last much longer.

You know too.

You're not a daft one. You couldn’t be.

One skid.

One slip-up.

Gone.

The highbloods.

The cullings.

You were there for all of it.

You remember standing there, only 3 sweeps old.

You wanted to play with them, but they wouldn’t let you.

Little did you know why, so you ran home.

Crabdad looked hurt when you told him. You thought he didn’t understand either.

Oh, but he did.

You wanted so desperately to join the others with their bright colors.

You had a bright color too.

You thought it would look pretty against the other kids’ colors.

Blue, Green, Pink, Purple.

No, Crabdad told him. You can’t play with those children.

You never failed to ask why.

Yellow, Brown, Mahogany.

Even they were with limitations.

But you're used to limitations.

Limitations is your middle name.

Chapter Text

Back to Gamzee.

Gamzee.

Your moirail.

Your "best friend", as the humans used to say.

Used to.

Man, saying that never gets old.

You don't exactly know where they are, either.

... You almost miss them. Their inherent cool, they're swagger.

Yes, you believe Rose had swagger. Just as much as Dave did. Does, you remind yourself. They aren't dead.

Oh, what the hell. Let's pretend it's just you.

Just.

You.

Sitting here in the Veil, the bright computer screen boreing into your eyes.

The old pesterlogs you've had.

Saved them all.

Savored them all.

Even the ones with John. Oh hell,

ESPECIALLY the ones with John.

He was so oblivious. Sure, you had him for a while, and things were fucking great, but...

There was never a time when you weren't thrown off by Strider's terrifying glare.

Not the kismesic kind, either. It was a much purer hate, one manifested out of jealous loathing.

John thought they were only bros, "palhonchos, Karkat!".

You aren't stupid.

Dave was in love with his best friend, and you were pretty damn sure of one thing:

John's love for you would fade.

Oh fuck, we've gotten off track.

Gamzee.

Him.

What about him?

So much. So, so much.

You think you miss him the most, even though you'd never admit it.

Life for him was so incredibly easy.

He was respected.

Adored.

Loved.

All of the things you weren't.