if i could eat your cancer, i would

[heartlessglitch]

WHO: karkat & danger.
WHERE: karkat's place.
WHEN: after this conversation.
WARNINGS: sad trolls and robots.
SUMMARY: danger broke her promise.
FORMAT: quickie.


[ danger stands outside of karkat's door for several long moments after arriving. she doesn't knock, lingering there and dwelling on the uncomfortable feeling of pressure in her chest-- a tightness she seems to have no pathological origin, no physical cause that she can place. but when she thinks about the tone of karkat's voice, what he said to her, it almost hurts. she presses her knuckles against her chest hard for a moment, willing the sensation to go away before she finally announces her presence by knocking on the door.

she has to explain. she owes him that much. ]

Comments

[heartlessglitch]

[ she could explain herself, maybe-- explain how irrational she'd been then, how she'd felt like a part of her mind had been ripped away from her when madison vanished. it had destroyed a part of her very hardware, disrupted her programming, her code-- what had she meant to do? fix herself, maybe, remove the error, or something worse. she can't remember it clearly.

but that seems beside the point now. as cold and calculating a machine as she is-- even in this organic body-- seeing karkat hurt makes something tighten uncomfortably inside her. he is special. he always treated her like a person. he never questioned the validity of her feelings. if anyone had been deserving of her loyalty and her friendship, it was him.

at length, answering his accusation: ]

Yes. But not because I did not love you.

[crab]

[ if her words had thrown him off balance before, she might as well have ripped the floor out from underneath him with those. he balks, sucks in a sharp breath, and takes a single step back, when she says it. love. nobody but gamzee and kanaya has told him they love him, and gamzee's idea of a love confession is something more of a veiled threat -- and kanaya's, a method of self flagellation.

he's never heard it said so simply.

part of him wants to reject it, a knee-jerk response, because he doesn't deserve it, because she could take it back, because he could lose her again and this time she might not come back, there are a thousand reasons to throw it back in her face, or sidestep it, and keep shouting at her, go along as though she'd never said it.

instead of reacting the way his instincts prompt him to, though, in the end he responds with one, small word. ]

Why? [ quiet, vulnerable; he sounds very young. it isn't clear exactly what he's asking for an explanation for. ]

[heartlessglitch]

[ that obvious vulnerability makes her pause a moment, as if she isn't sure what to make of it-- or him, with the way he looks in that moment. she seems unsure if she's said something good or bad. love can be either, or both. she knows that.

finally, she reaches for him, folding his hands into hers. it's a learned gesture-- a human one. and while he isn't human, she finds him similar enough in some ways. similar enough that she thinks it communicates what it needs to-- reassurance, solidarity, sincerity. her grip on him is steady, strong but not forceful. her voice is steady too. ]

You have never questioned the validity of my emotions. You accept me as a living, thinking, and feeling being, despite the fact that we are different. You are my friend. [ a pause, then with a precise carefulness, as if she wants to be sure he understands her: ] And you are deserving. Perhaps more than anyone.

[crab]

[ it's easier to look at her hands, holding his, than at her face. he avoids her gaze, and it's true, it is difficult to discern whether what he's hearing is inspiring a positive or negative reaction, as he listens to her talk.

if it were anyone else, he wouldn't believe her. he wouldn't be able to believe her. he hates himself so much, he can't even begin to fathom how someone else could see him as something deserving of love.

but danger doesn't lie to him. danger has never lied to him, outside one broken promise.

he trusts her.

so, it's with some hesitation that he replies, slowly, and cautiously; ]

I... love you, too, Danger. [ it's difficult for him to say, but it's sincere. he follows up, quickly-- ] But that doesn't mean I'm any less angry at you. If anything, it just makes me madder.

[heartlessglitch]

[ maybe it's because she's in this strange, alien body, but she's hyperaware of the way her heart swells almost painfully in her chest. she's been loved so little in her life, and sometimes only in half-measures, but she can hear it, the sincerity in his voice and it feels real. she knows it's true, that he loves her, as well as she knows numbers and figures.

she watches him a few more moments without answering-- wanting, maybe, to memorize this, to commit it to memory so that she never forgets the feeling of being loved by a friend.

then, finally, she lets go of his hands to carefully fold him against her, wrapping his smaller body in her arms protectively. she's warm and strong. ]

I am sorry, Karkat. It was not my intention to hurt you. Never.

[crab]

[ he tenses, instinctively, when she wraps her arms around him -- he's always been wary of physical contact, particularly when it involves being held by someone else -- but he doesn't push her away, either.

after a few moments of awkward stillness, he brings his arms up, and reciprocates her embrace. his next words come out muffled against her chest. ]

So why did you do it?

[heartlessglitch]

[ she tightens her grip on him, just slightly. she feels hyperaware of how he seems so small and fragile against her taller frame. when she answers, her voice comes low, private, as if what she says is meant for karkat and only karkat. ]

When Madison was removed from this universe, a literal piece of me-- the hardware that connected our minds-- began to malfunction. It was as if a void had suddenly opened inside my head. I suffered a processing error, and I irrationally attempted to physically rectify it.

[ a beat. then, almost reluctantly, and in a plainer way, with all the technical words stripped aside: ]

Also, I felt a great despair.