Work Text:
A young Troll stands in his bedroom.
==> be the Troll
You are now the Troll and your name is-
...
Your name...
==> skip this stupid form of narrative
Gladly.
You are Erisol, formerly known as Erisolsprite. You dropped the sprite part after the game revived you as- well, you assume you’re ‘alive’, even if the word has lost most of its meaning lately. All of the sprites are now. Davesprite – he kept his sprite part, says it gives him ‘charm’ – and Arquius. And you. No longer a floating, green asshole with a slime tail, now you’re a walking, grey asshole with legs. Really long legs actually, which the Sollux half of you was rather surprised at – who knew they were hidden under those shitty hipster pants? The Eridan half of you was still mad at losing a good few inches of height though – Sol was a real short ass.
But it’s not so bad; after countless apologies and a sweep of not speaking to each other, you and Kanaya were on good enough terms for her to make you a nice pair of heels. They look kind of like Eridan’s shoes, but they’re black and white. You like it; asymmetry is infuriating to you some days, and the two-tone colours keep your duality compulsion in check. You used your psionics to help Kanaya build as a thank you. They’re janky as fuck, but with a lot of concentration you can make it work.
Before, you would have thought ‘what about me isn’t fucked beyond repair?’ but honestly, you’re happier as a Troll than you were as a sprite. You don’t feel like two halves of separate people anymore. Some days you’re more Eridan, others you feel more Sollux, but it’s never the direct split that it used to be. You don’t always hear two separate voices when you think; no arguing with the other person in your head, no contradictory thoughts every goddamn minute. You still have them, sure. Sollux was bipolar and Eridan didn’t exactly have the most stable mentality. But you do actually get some peace.
Your hair, however, is one thing that never cooperates. It’s atrocious. It sticks up at the back like you’ve been lying on a fan, and no amount of gel or straightening makes it look any better. Your once-violet streak is now a garish lime (and it won’t fuckin dye, you’ve tried everything), stuck between your two sets of horns in just the wrong way to stop it from slicking back properly. You were sort of relieved to actually be symmetrical again, features-wise, and to get your lovely wavy horns back, but the two little prongs between them are so fucking infuriating.
It works after a while, but it’s always such a struggle that you could really do without. You’ve got two earfins again now too, which is both a blessing and a curse (did they used to flutter this much before?). Even your eyes are sort of normal; the only weird thing is how the grey is turning red on one and blue on the other as the colour bleeds in, instead of violet or yellow or even lime, but at least you’ve actually got visible pupils now. Still need fuckin’ glasses though.
Sometimes you wish you’d just stayed a wonky-horned, one-finned freak. Then you sigh and mutter that you’re an idiot, because you know that would have been ten times worse.
Your voice has evened out through the end game nonsense, which you think is probably the best thing about this whole situation. The lisp is all but gone, as are the problems you had with w’s and v’s. They still come out occasionally, usually when you’re mad or upset or having a particularly bad day with your two mentalities. But you don’t actually talk to anyone besides yourself when you get like that, so it doesn’t really matter. Not many people talk to you lately. Davesprite does, but you’re pretty sure it’s either pity or the fact that you’re the only other former-sprite who isn’t Arquius. You don’t think you’d mind if he pitied you though. Something resembling a Moirallegence is better than not having one at all, right? You feel so desperate when you think like that, but considering your predecessors’ track record with pale romances, it’s hardly surprising. God you were such idiots.
You pick up your scarf and throw it loosely around your neck. That too got a generous helping of green, but at least it’s still soft and warm. Your temperature is befitting of your new lime blood, so you’re constantly either too hot or too cold compared to what your previous selves were used to. You find yourself with complaints no matter what combination of clothes you wear. Complaining is one thing that’s never changed about you; you’ve always got something to gripe about. It’s sort of therapeutic though. When you were a sprite, it would help your two halves finally agree on something. Maybe if things hadn’t happened the way they did, Eridan and Sollux could have bonded over their mutual grievances. Like peanut better for example. Fuckin vile stuff, seriously, who wants spreadable nuts? Humans are such freaks. That’s another thing you both agreed on as a sprite; you really do hate humans.
“Hey, you ready to go man?”
Okay, maybe not all humans.
“You’re early, DS,” you cringe internally at the nickname as you lean on the windowsill Davesprite is hovering by (you’re still working on what to call everyone), “lookin’ as good as I do takes time y’know.”
“Wait, you mean other people don’t just roll out of bed looking fucking fabulous every day? Wow, that must be hard, sorry for being such an insensitive asshole all those times I’ve interrupted you fussing over your hair.” He smiles when he’s finished, lowering himself onto the sill next to you.
The strangest thing, is that you actually smile back without thinking. You’ve been hanging out with Davesprite like this for a while now, but it’s still a surprise every time he actually makes you feel happy just by being him. Although you called him a human, he’s not like the rest of them. Sure, he has the other Dave’s face and body, but his hair is more vibrant, orange like a sunset, and he has these huge, feathery wings.
“So, you gonna go downstairs and join me outside on this spectacularly overcast day, or do I have to carry you out through the window like a princess trapped in her two-storey castle?”
Most people would assume he’s joking – taking sarcasm to the next level with his blank expression – but you know he would in fact drag you through the window, because he’s done it before when you weren’t quick enough. If only you could still fly without needing to use your psionics (which don’t work right when you’re panicking because some idiot is dangling you like ten feet above the ground).
“Look, I know you’re dyin’ to spend time with me, but you could at least try and be a little patient, God.” Welp that was an awkward mix of Captor and Ampora; your accent changed literally half way through the sentence. You try to stop that from happening too often, but you’re still a little groggy this morning and words are hard.
Davesprite doesn’t mind though. He just says, “Alright, alright, I’ll go wait on the ground like a commoner. See you down there, your highness,” letting a slight smirk come through.
You flip him the bird as his face sinks out of view. You’re sure he got a kick out of the irony or whatever. You know he made the joke because you inherited Eridan’s tendency to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror whenever you’re going out, but it still stings a little after the whole ‘prince of hope’ business. Wow pan, thought it was agreed that you’d never bring that up ever again, good job. Ugh, it’s going to be one of those days. You can feel it. Where you’re in a constant back-and-forth between blaming Eridan or Sollux and then blaming your own mutant brain and then just hating yourself for everything, then starting the cycle all over again.
Still, Davesprite is waiting for you. He doesn’t know what he said, or what it made you think, or how you’re feeling. You can just go on and have a nice ordinary day with your stupid, stupid thoughts locked away behind an encrypted failsafe. At the bottom of the ocean. Along with the rest of you possibly. Jeez. It’s a good thing you can’t explode any more. Or maybe it’s not. Exploding into two ghosts sounds pretty good right about now. Or just exploding.
Fuck.
You can’t do this. Why did you think you could? You can’t be normal – you’re the result of a fucked up, reality-altering game and the whims of a psychopathic juggalo – what about that could ever sound normal? Somehow, you make it downstairs and slump into your favourite chair. You wish your slime tail was still a thing so you could wrap it around yourself, pretend something other than your own arms would hug you. You’re so pathetic.
“Seriously, what the fuck is taking him so long?”
You flinch, earfins snapped back to your head. That sounded like… No, it couldn’t be, why would he want anything to do with you?
“Look, he said he’d be down in a sec so just untwist your panties and wait, okay?” Davesprite sounds pissed. Well, you guess that’s to be expected, you’ve made him wait so long already. He probably hates you too now. “If you shout any louder you’ll ruin the fuckin’ surprise, so shut up.”
A surprise? For you? Well, you have to admit that having Karkat standing at your door when you’ve spent so long actively avoiding him is quite the surprise. Although, it’s not really one you want to face right now.
There’s more squabbling outside. You can’t make out what they’re saying but Karkat sounds really miffed, more than usual, even if he is whisper-shouting now.
“Fine,” Davesprite snaps, “I’ll go check on him again, alright? I’ll go rush our emotionally sensitive friend into hurrying up so that you don’t have to waste your precious time waiting.”
Friend? Wait, more important things, you left the window open – shit.
“Hey, dude.” Davesprite is halfway down the stairs before you can even get up. Daves are always fast little fuckers.
“Hey.” Your voice is croaky, wobbling like you might start tripping over your letters.
Then Davesprite frowns, “Woah, what’s up?” He leaps across your livingblock with a single flap of his wings, almost knocking a cup off the side when he lands in front of you.
It’s when the air hits your face that you realise you’re crying. Fuckin crying. In front of Davesprite. As if this day couldn’t get any worse – and it’s only just started.
“Hey, it’s alright.” He reaches out but you slap his hand away.
“No, jutht fuck off an’ leawe me alone.” Yep, there it goes, the lisps and the trips.
“C’mon, don’t be like that-” He tries again and gets the same result.
“I thaid. Fuck. Off. Dawe. You’re not my Moirail, I don’t need your pity.”
“Eri, please just-”
“No!” You shock him this time. Physically, you mean, with your psionics. It’s not a lot, but enough to make him jump back and check his hand. The worst part, is that you don’t even feel bad. He calls you Eri or Sol but neither of them feel right. He should stop trying.
“Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I guess I need backup.” He jumps back over your couch to the door.
“Don’t!” You barely get your protest in before he’s opened the door, and you turn away trying frantically to wipe your tears – which won’t stop! Why won’t they stop!?
You’ve still got your back to them when the door closes, when someone walks over to you, when everything goes quiet except for your sniffs. Karkat’s right behind you. He probably has no idea what to do; it must be so awkward, you should tell him to leave, then tell Davesprite too. You just want to be alone.
Karkat clears his throat. He doesn’t know what to call you, of course he doesn’t – even Kanaya never says your name, none of them do. You’re just a reminder of a freakish loser that only some of them miss, and an asshole douche everyone wishes wasn’t around at all.
“Hey, you going to ignore me forever or what?” He’s trying so hard to sound normal that his tone is anything but.
A squeak slips out as soon as you try telling him to go. You slap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The damage to your already waning dignity is done.
Karkat sighs and leans on the arm of the chair. “Talk to me, please.”
You shake your head, biting down on your palm to suppress a sob.
“I don’t hate you, either of you, I promise I just-”
“I’m not them anymore,” your breathing stays controlled long enough to get those words out, then you’re back to a sniffling mess.
There’s an agonising pause. You can almost feel Karkat dithering; deciding if he should stay or leave, if he’s doing the right thing, if you’re worth all this hassle. You could answer that one for him in a heartbeat.
“Right,” he says eventually, “sorry.” It sounds like he means it, too, which is something. “But stuff like that is why you need to talk to me.”
“W-why do you care?” The stupid stutter only makes your throat close up more, like it knows better than to keep talking.
He takes a few breaths, but most of them end up sighed out before he starts talking.
“Because you’re my friend,” you scoff but he talks over it, “and I still care about you, no matter how much you run away from me and everyone else – I know you’ve been avoiding us, don’t fucking lie to me.”
“W-wathn’t gonna.” Why did you think you’d be able to control your voice on that one? Even if you’d gotten over your own self-loathing by this point, Karkat saying that he cares about you – just you, not Sollux or Eridan – is enough to push your emotions over the edge again.
“Good,” he stands up and then he’s crouched in front of you, pity written all over his face as he reaches up to put his hands on yours.
His hands are softer than you remember. He’s softer than you remember – than you expected, after everything he’s been through over the last sweep. God, that’s right, he’s seven now, and you’re still six (Eridan would be seven, you guess you’re lagging behind). He’s showing it too, and not just in the few inches he’s gained since the last time he knelt beside you (in a computer chair as Sollux, when your headache got so bad you couldn’t move, in a pile of capes as Eridan, whilst he picked a movie on his husktop and ranted about nothing). Even his eyes are turning red now, and you can’t believe one half of you ever hated ‘mutants’ because it’s the most beautiful colour you’ve ever fucking seen.
“Don’t you ever lie to me, okay?” He strokes your cheek, looking up at you with those fiery eyes, and you nod. “Promise?”
You choke out a “promithe” before the tears hit full force. Karkat said you were his friend, that he cares, that he doesn’t hate you just for existing. It’s embarrassing as fuck, because now you’re gross sobbing everywhere when you should be happy, but you can’t help it. As much as you’ve craved this, even when you were two separate people, you still don’t feel as if you deserve it, any of it. People like you don’t get to be happy, don’t get to have friends, don’t get-
Hugs?
Karkat is- His arms are- He’s so warm.
“Shh,” he tightens his grip around you.
You take your glasses off so they don’t get in the way when you nuzzle at his hair. He smells the same, and you’re strangely glad of it. A memory you can have in unison, one that actually feels like it’s yours; eyes closed, nose full of Karkat’s comforting scent, his little body pressed against yours. He doesn’t feel so little anymore. You guess a sweep for him and a new body for you would do that – you think there’d only be a few centimetres’ difference without your shoes.
It’s when you try to hug him back that you realise you’re shaking (you don’t remember who you got that from). Then he pulls back and it’s like he sucked all your happiness with him, until he’s hauling himself up next to you and yes, okay, this is much better. Your nerves settle as he goes back to holding you close, and this time you loop your arms around him without a second thought. Having your head against his chest feels so right. You can’t remember the last time anything could do that for you.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he tells you, nosing at where your horns meet on one side, “I’m here whenever you want to talk, or whatever.”
You nod again, “Thanks, Karkat.” Your brain was fighting over KK and Kar so you decided to just go for his full name. It’s nice. It suits him.
“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You don’t always feel ‘whole’, or ‘together’, like you pretend to, but right now your entire pan is seeing every shade of red for Karkat, and it’s the most comforting feeling you could imagine. Even if it does make your pusher jump a little and your purr go all wonky. Oh, you’re purring, and so is Karkat – he’s got such a lovely purr, holy shit you could fall asleep right here. Your face feels so hot that you must be flushed out to your fins in lime by now. Thank the Gods that Karkat can’t see. Davesprite seems to have disappeared somewhere too, which is equally relieving considering all the sappy bullshit that just happened.
Maybe sappy bullshit isn't so bad though. If it means cuddles with Karkat, you can put up with a little display of emotions here or there. Honestly, you’d do anything for him right now. You always would have. You were just too stubborn to admit it. Karkat kisses your horn like he knew what you were thinking, and you let a tiny chirrup slip out. Yeah, this is nice. Although, you might have to move soon or you’re going to have dead legs. Eh, oh well, you dealt with a slime tail before and hey, if you can’t get up, that means Karkat has to stay longer. You snuggle down into his sweater and get extra cosy, feeling content for the first time since well… Ever, you think. At least, your ever, anyway.