No One Really Understands

Concerned.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Karkat looked away and exhaled softly. He was sitting on the couch, his knees pulled to his chest, thinking. About what had happened. About what he'd done and what he was going to do. About Dave.

He brushed his fingers over his lips, remembering how soft and warm Dave's lips had been. A slow blush creeped up his neck and spread across his cheeks and he smiled shyly.

He doesn't love you. I bet he doesn't even like you. He only kissed you because you were upset, and it was the only way to get you to shut up.

The smile dropped from Karkat's face and he looked away. He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose. He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. That voice had been yelling and chastising him since he got home, and it was starting wear on his nerves. He already knew. He didn't need to be constantly reminded.

The sound of a door opening shook Karkat from his thoughts. Kankri had come into the room. He looked thoroughly worn out and disheveled. Once again, he wasn't wearing his usual red sweater, only a dark gray t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants. His hair was messy, as if he'd been asleep. He started slightly when he saw Karkat, but said nothing at first. Karkat felt guilt tingle across his cheeks when he saw his brother, but he wasn't completely sure why.

"...Oh. Karkat," Kankri said after several tense seconds. "I, um, didn't expect you to be home. Not really. O-or, no, I just..." He looked away and sighed softly, "didn't really know where you were. You... weren't at school."

"No..." Karkat said. The awkward tension between the two was almost tangible. It made it hard to breathe.

Kankri nodded and looked away from Karkat. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He sighed again, and in that moment he looked incredibly worn, carrying the weight of a lifetime, aged far beyond his 18 years.

"Sh... should we talk about it?" Kankri asked quietly.

Guilt burnt in Karkat's belly. "No, that's okay. Maybe later."

Kankri nodded again. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "...Look. I'm sorry. Whatever I did, whatever it was, I'm sorry. I just.. I didn't--"

"It's okay, Kankri." Karkat could tell he wasn't thinking of then. He was thinking of the previous night. "Really."

"But I--"

"Just drop it, okay?" Karkat mumbled. "I don't want to talk about it." He stood and brushed past his brother, keeping his head down so he wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"I'm just... I'm sorry," Kankri said softly as his brother passed. His voice sounded small and weak. Karkat ignored him, continuing on to his room. He shut the door and pressed his face into his hands. Thanks to Kankri, he was thinking of the one thing he'd been trying to forget all day. He closed his eyes and on the backs of his eyelids all he could see was Kankri's face when he'd seen his arms, all sad and confused and afraid.

Karkat growled softly in discontent and pressed his palms against his eyes.

Stupid Karkat. Now there was a healthy dose of annoyance mixed in with the slew of emotions swirling around in his head. It was starting to be too much. He couldn't breathe like this. He needed to let something out.

He went through the motions almost mindlessly: took out his blades, slipped into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and rolled up his sleeve. There was hardly any bare skin left on his wrists and forearms. It would be hard to get the kind of blood loss he was hoping for, but he didn't care. Not really. Not enough.

He pressed the tip of one of his new blades into a small strip of bare skin and started to drag it towards his elbow. He couldn't help but close his eyes at the pain. It felt so good. So refreshing. It cleared his head so well. He opened his eyes to look at how much blood there was, and was disappointed to find that it was only a couple beads. He made another vertical cut down his arm, pressing down harder, determined to bleed badly, ignoring the searing pain that erupted down his arm and the blood that pooled in the crook of his elbow. He made another cut after that one, and another and another until it looked like there were red striped running from his forearm to his elbow. He started to make another, when a sudden, urgent thought ran through his mind, stopping him in his tracks: