𝙇𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝘿𝙊𝙑𝙀 | karlnapity

Chapter Fifteen.

• present •

In the time it had been since Karl had glanced out of the penthouse windows during the argument, it had begun to snow. A large misfortune for the boy only in a thin, purple hoodie and some oversized cargos cinched to his waist with rope.

(He's half sure they used to be Sapnap's. Used to because Karl doubts Sapnap will be getting them back—and not because the ravenette would have given Karl the universe if he could, so cargos would have been a no-brainer.)

So now not only is his heart being severed out of his chest in the most hyperbolic, harrowing incident that left him feeling like maybe it would hurt less to let lava melt the skin from his bones: he's fucking freezing.

Las Nevadas looks pretty with the snow though; the colourful LED's reflecting from the ice, the sparkly white lining every roof or crevice. It looks beautiful, the entire place is beautiful, and Karl cant help but feel a sense of pride through his tears.

He imagines, half-heartedly, what it would be like for him to live here. It would be a tragedy to leave Kinoko of course, but in letting his mind wander..

He thinks of mornings where Quackity would cook them all their separate pancakes (Sap's with syrup and bananas, Q's with lemon and sugar, and his own with chocolate and strawberries); where they would spend wintry mornings on the Quackity's balcony, wrapped up in eachother and tasting like sugary breakfasts; where Quackity would go to work and Sapnap would defend the nation or something, while Karl would spend his days roaming the streets, greeting people and keeping the city's spirits up.

He's good at that, Niki had once told him that she has no doubt Manberg would have been a ghostown if it weren't for Karl keeping up everyone's mood. That's a fact, she had told him.

Sapnap would know what it's like, Karl supposes, having been here for who knows how long. That makes Karl's slow meandering down the streets falter slightly, how long had Sapnap been here? I mean, as far as he knew the ravenette could have been here weeks.. Months, even.

And Karl had had no idea. He had strode in with his hapless hoping, smiling as he planted the bomb between their love, as he cut their red string.

Another tear rolls down Karl's cheek: oh, now he feels guilty and heartbroken.

It's not as striking as the grief had been, instead of burning at him and scarring his skin, its more of a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. The type you could get used to if you had it long enough.

It's an uncomfortable pain that writhes through his insides and tugs at his vocal chords, creating a lumpy, bitter taste in his mouth.

He doesnt want to have to get used to this, he realises, this is horrible and sharp and arduous. The heartbreak he deserves—the burning and the lava and the ache he earned with his own selfish heart—but the guilt? That was an accident, and he would have to be incredibly self-pitying to force himself to endure both on purpose.

He catches sight of an alley with a large trash can on one side, overflowing with cardboard. It reminds him of Before. Of when he was happy enough, and when he didnt feel the goosebumps everywhere, or the anguish clogging his intestines.

A miniscule part of him wishes he had never remembered, that he had continued to live in enchanted ignorance with a fiance he knew and loved waiting for him back home.

Quackity? He has no idea who he is, and the worst part is he doubts that he will ever find out again.

This hurts alot, he realises, this pain isn't going away any time soon. He doesn't wish to self-pity any longer.

He moves his gaze away from the alley, ignoring the lump in his throat, and catches sight of a tavern across the road sitting between a nail salon and a burger shop. It looks very out of character: an anomaly in the bright and modern city, but cozy all the same.

It reminds Karl of Sapnap in that way. Warm. inviting. Lovable. Sapnap would have loved to go there, its just his style. He remembers in the few—but special—childhood stories Sapnap had shared with the fiances, most of them had featured tavern's assumedly not too different from the one before him, often frequented by Sapnap and Bad during their travels.

Karl wonders if Quackity remembers those. If those were in mind when he ordered the build. If he's taken Sapnap there yet.

Karl almost wants to feel jealous, maybe that would be better than the guilt. The truth is, however, is that seeing his two boys together, loving eachother, has always been his weakness. There's never been a more pure sight than the two he himself loves so much, appreciating eachother in the same way.

"I need a drink."

Those had been Sapnap's last words to Karl, and at the memory the brunette's eyes wander toward the penthouse windows he can see lights shining from in the distance. He can't have Quackity, and that burns his skin and drives hot pokers into his eyes, but Sapnap?

"I need a drink."

Karl needs Sapnap. He needs someone.

He knows what he has to do. For himself, and for his fiance's.

Karl turns back toward the bar: he knows where Sapnap is.

896 words.