another revealed truth

no turning back

trigger warnings listed in opening author's note

✼

karl is leaning over his painting, squinting at the eye as he tries to add in fine details to the iris. he never really noticed it before, but karl does a large majority of his art with people's eyes shut, and he finds that painting eyes this small is incredibly difficult.

still, he's working with oils so he's got a little bit of leeway because it doesn't dry so quickly, so he has more time to work on the tiny details. it doesn't help that he'd thought he got it perfect just to realise he'd painted way too light in comparison to the face shading, so now he's having to fix it all.

his attention shifts at a knock on the door, eyes instinctively widening in surprise. to himself, he mumbles, "weird."

he's been living here for a good few months now, and he genuinely thinks this is the first time he's heard a knock on the door - maybe the second, but he can't remember a time on the top of his head.

the brunette gets up, dropping his paintbrush into a water pot. he presumes that george will be at the door with a sheepish smile, saying he forgot his lanyard and locked himself out, though he normally just texts when he does that. then again, karl's phone is in his bedroom, so he wouldn't've seen a message.

karl just hopes it isn't some accommodation person wanting to check their water or something like that, because he'll feel grossly uncomfortable being alone in the apartment with someone he doesn't know.

he's admittedly a bit surprised when he opens the door to find dream standing on the other side. he hopes his expression doesn't portray his shock as he says, "sapnap and george aren't here."

"i know, they're downstairs," dream nods. "i was coming to see you."

the brunette can't help but squint. it takes a few moments for the dots to connect in his brain. "i'm sort of busy right now, dream," he tells the blond, "i'm midway through some art, so i can't really-"

"i'm not here for sex," dream interrupts, and karl leans against the door as he tilts his head in confusion. over the last few weeks, it's become more and more regular for the pair of them to meet up for sex, and they've never once met up for any reason other than that, so karl thinks his lack of understanding is valid. "can i come in?" dream asks, gesturing past the brunette, "we can talk while you paint."

"uhm, sure," karl nods. he steps back, gesturing for dream to come in. out of nowhere, a spiteful little thought crawls into karl's mind, telling him that dream is going to tell him he has some kind of std. once it's there, he can't push it away, and the worry spreads through him like a virus as they make their way back through to the kitchen where karl's art stuff is splayed out across the counter.

he sits down and dream takes the seat beside him, which feels far too close for karl's liking. "this looks good," dream comments, gesturing to the painting as he settles in the chair.

"thanks," the brunette mumbles. he finds himself already angry, even though he doesn't actually know why dream is here. he just preemptively assumes it's going to be bad - call him a pessimist, or whatever. "so, what's up?"

he picks his paintbrush back up, dipping it into the greyish paint he'd mixed. he decides it's best to keep painting to regulate his nerves and help him from getting too suddenly emotional. if dream does have some kind of std, he doesn't want to blow up in the blonde's face about it because he's upset - sure, he'd have reason to be annoyed, but he imagines dream would already be stressed enough about it without him making it worse.