~Karkat's POV~
I feel so guilty about this... It's all my fault Gamzee cut himself; he'll have scars just like mine now.
I pick up the blades, hands shaking. I look Gamzee in the eyes; his eyes are a dark blue, glossed over with tears that haven't been shed. His messy hair covers most of his forehead, the skin defect he was born with made him look clownish; lighter skin tones around his eyes, mouth, and two oddly shaped almost ovular light tones on his temples.
I throw the blades into the trash can, not daring to look away from him. The tears begin to come down, Gamzee threw himself at me, hugging me tightly to his chest. I hug him back, not minding the tears that soak my shoulder, or even the blood that begins to seep through my shirt and onto my back.
"Gamzee, you need to get gauze on your cuts before you lose too much blood." I say in a panic when his grip on me begins to loosen, the blood stain getting bigger on my back.
"Yeah, probably should," he sounds weak, his voice toned down to a mumble.
I quickly set him on the ground, grabbing the gauze from where it always lay handy on the sink. I begin to wrap his wrist up, making sure not to do it too tightly. Once I finish up, I look at Gamzee; he's looking at the scars on my arm.
"Let's get you to bed." I say quietly. He nods in agreement, I help him up off the ground; he had to lean on me quite a bit, so I can only get him out to my bed before I can't carry him any farther.
He plops down, practically falling asleep when his head hits the pillow. I kiss his forehead gently, whispering into his ear before he's completely out.
"Sweet dreams, you dickhead."
