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It’s basically the same as every other night, really. Well, every other night that their dad gets in one of his fuckin’ moods. Gamzee could hear the asshole across the hall, not bothering to make himself quiet as he … does whatever he wants to Kurloz. It’s been silent for a while now, their dad had stumbled out of Kurloz’s room and out the door maybe an hour ago. A little after that he heard Kurloz start a bath. Bro probably needed it bad. He’d said, offhandedly and a little faintly, that no matter what he used he never felt clean after that shit. Gamzee can imagine.
He didn’t want to discuss this shit with Kurloz, though. It was better if they didn’t acknowledge it, in his own head at least. They used to be closer. But now, talking about the unkind shit their dad did had a lotta fuckin’ extra shit besides beating them black and blue. Well … the extra shit’d been goin’ on forever, but it had never been so … blatant. Their dad didn’t care who knew anymore, apparently. It wasn’t like he worried about them tattling. Gamzee’d seen his business. He had money, used it to buy himself into a relatively upstanding position. His two failure kids were nothing to all those swanky piece of shit officials.
Kurloz had been silent for a while.
Usually he heard his music by now, or, on worse days, his muffled crying. But it was deadly silent in the house now. Gamzee frowns, but hesitates. He didn’t know what to say to Kurloz about this. Like, “Hey, I heard dad finish raping you. You good?”. What kind of fucking brother was he? A shitty one.
Gamzee drags his ass up, making his way to the door. The floorboards creak under his weight as he steps out onto the landing. It’s dark as shit, but he’s had plenty of practice navigating this house without light. Kurloz is only across the hall. It’s a far cry from darting to the kitchen and back silently. Kurloz’s door is firmly shut, and Gamzee knocks softly before opening it. The air feels still in here, and he lets the door swing open. The purple lights are on, and his bed is unmade, but he isn’t in it.
“Kurloz?” There’s no reply, and he takes a hesitant step in. There’s an awful pit settling in Gamzee’s stomach, telling him in no uncertain terms that something is terribly wrong. “Kurloz.” He tries again, louder. The silence bears down on him, and he sucks in a breath, approaching the bathroom door. It’s shut too, and Gamzee tries the knob. It’s locked, and Gamzee bangs on it. “Bro! Open the door!” Panic is setting in. Something was wrong. Something was so,
so fucking wrong. Gamzee looks around quickly, and grabs a quarter from some kind of change jar on his desk, using it to unlock the door. He whips it open.
The first thing he registers is blood.
It’s lurid red, soaking into the water his brother is laying in. It has no right to seep so delicately out of the huge, deep slashes up his thin arms.
“Shit. Oh my god. Kurloz?” There are tears on Gamzee’s face as he collapses next to the tub, hands shaking as he gently moves Kurloz’s head to check his pulse. Kurloz gives a weak groan as he’s moved, and Gamzee gasps. “Oh god. Fuck. Kurloz, we gotta go to the hospital.” Kurloz’s eyes barely open, glassy and barely responsive. “Hey. Hey! Wake up!” Kurloz doesn’t wake up much more, but his eyes seem to focus a little.
“Gamzee…” He mumbles, and he moves his arm a little.
“Don’t move. Shit, dude. Shit! What did you do?” Kurloz laughs weakly, obviously out of his head.
“Can’t do it anymore, Gam. I’m sorry.” His head rests back against the tub, and his eyes start to slip closed.
“No. No! No, you’re not fucking leaving me! Kurloz!” He’s not responding, and Gamzee sprints away, grabbing his phone and shakily dialing 911 as he runs back, inspecting the wounds and trying to see if there was anything he could do. The phone rings once, and then someone picks up.
“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”
“I need … Shit, I need an ambulance to 2792 Willow Road, please, my brother’s bleeding out, I can’t make him wake up anymore!”
“Sir, stay calm. I’m sending an ambulance right now.” There’s rapid clicking, and the woman continues to speak. “Are you with your brother now?”
“Yes. Yeah, I’m with him. Kurloz, come on, just hang on, okay? Someone’s gonna help you.”
“His name is Kurloz?”
“Kurloz Makara. He’s 17 and he’s … oh my god, please don’t let him die.”
“We’re going to do our best. What’s your name?”
“I’m … I’m Gamzee. That doesn’t matter, just. Get here! He’s fucking dying!”
“The ambulance is five minutes out. Just stay with me, Gamzee. I need you to breathe.”
“Kurloz. Kurloz, hey. Wake up, an ambulance is on the way.” Gamzee can feel himself crying again, tears dripping down his face and onto Kurloz’s skin. He stirs a little, eyes opening again.
“You weren’t s’pposed to find me.” Kurloz says weakly. “Thought you were sleepin’.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t.”
“I wanted to go. Should just let me go.”
“No!” Gamzee snaps.
“Gamzee?” The woman on the phone asks. “Is everything okay?”
“He woke up a little, he’s … he’s just talking nonsense.” Gamzee says, brushing his brother’s hair out of his face.
“How out of it is he?” The woman’s voice is smooth, even. Mechanical and separated even though Gamzee’s whole life is about to fall apart.
“He just. He doesn’t want the ambulance, he did this to himself.”
“The ambulance is four minutes out now. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay, shit. Kurloz, you hear that? Help’s only four minutes away. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Never gonna be okay ‘s long as I’m alive, Gam. Don’t you know?”
“That’s not true.” Gamzee snaps. Kurloz just smiles a little, head resting back on the wall. His eyes fix on a point in the middle distance, getting a little bit glassy as he loses focus. Gamzee pulls away for a moment, grabbing the towel off the counter. He gently takes one of Kurloz’s arms, trying to stop the blood still dripping out.
“Dad’s gonna be so mad at me.” Kurloz mumbles. “Don’t do this.” Gamzee’s heart drops a little.
“Gamzee? Are you still with me?”
“We’re with you. He’s still bleeding, I don’t know what to do.”
“The ambulance should be down the street, now.” The woman says. Gamzee can hear the wailing of the ambulance, growing steadily closer.
“Kurloz, I’m gonna bring them up here, okay? You’re gonna be okay!” Kurloz’s head thumps back against the back of the tub, looking off into empty space. Gamzee hesitates for a moment before sprinting downstairs, leaving the phone behind.
The ambulance is pulling in when Gamzee runs out the door, trying to get them to hurry. Two men run out.
“He’s upstairs!” Gamzee calls, and they follow him up. Gamzee bursts back into the bathroom, and Kurloz doesn’t even respond.
“Out of the way, sir.” One of the men say, ushering him away. They crowd around Kurloz, gently maneuvering him out of the tub. Kurloz wakes up a little, and he just looks so frail between them. His oversized black shirt hangs off of him, his bare legs covered in bruises. Streams of red-tinted water roll down his skin.
“No…” Kurloz says weakly, attempting to push his way out of his arms. The man doesn’t give an inch, and they carry him delicately out of the bathroom. Gamzee snatches his phone up and follows them out, barreling into the ambulance after them.
The men tuck Gamzee into a far corner as they take off, already hooking things up to Kurloz’s prone body, and Gamzee feels useless. His brother looks dead on the gurney as they rocket their way to the hospital.
“Is he gonna be okay?” He asks hesitantly. The men don’t answer, but the younger looking one spares him a short glance. He looks grim.
It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at the hospital, and Gamzee stands in the emergency entrance, holding his phone tight to himself, covered in his brother’s blood. He’s not allowed to follow them back, and he feels helpless. The noise of the ER is nothing but static in his ears as he stares after the doors they took Kurloz through.
“Young man? Honey, are you okay?” He blinks, and his eyes focus on an older nurse, looking at him with concern.
“It’s not … not my blood.” He mumbles. The nurse takes his arm gently.
“Let's get you settled down, sweetheart.” She says. Gamzee allows himself to be led without complaint, and he finds himself sitting in a waiting room. Time seems to start and stop, and after about ten years of dissociation, a cup of coffee is pressed into his hands. He stares down at it silently, not drinking it.
“Gamzee?” He blinks and looks up at the nurse. He doesn’t remember telling her his name, but he must have at some point. “Is there anyone you can call? Where are your parents?”
“Don’t call my dad.” He says, voice rough. “Don’t.”
“Okay. What about a friend?” She asks. Her voice is full of motherly concern, and it makes Gamzee’s heart hurt.
“‘s late.” He says. “Dunno if anybody’d make their way over for me.”
“Let’s give them a call anyway.” She sits with him, holding his free hand gently as he flips his phone open, tapping through the contacts. His thumb hovers over the call button for Karkat’s home phone, hesitating. “It’s okay. I don’t think they’ll mind as much as you think they will.” Gamzee hits enter, and presses the phone to his ear. It rings for a long moment before finally, someone picks up.
“Vantas residence?” He recognizes Mr. Vantas’s voice, and he sounds tired.
“Hi Mr. Vantas.” Gamzee says. He sounds like he’s about to cry, and maybe he is.
“Gamzee? Is everything okay?”
“I’m … I’m at the hospital right now, I-”
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. It’s … my brother, he…” Gamzee starts crying again. “He hurt himself real motherfuckin’ bad, Mr. Vantas. An’, an’ I’m jus’ here by myself now.” Mr. Vantas sucks a quick breath in.
“Jesus. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay Gamzee? Will you be fine for a few minutes while I drive there?” He sniffles a little, feeling miserable.
“Yeah, I … I guess so.”
“Is your … father around?”
“No. I think he went to the bar.” Gamzee mumbles. The nurse strokes his hair gently, and he’s coaxed into leaning against her. “I have … His blood is everywhere, Mr. Vantas.”
“Do you need some fresh clothes?”
“Yes please…”
“Okay. I’ll be there, Gamzee. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to hang up now so I can be there, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Gamzee. I’ll be there soon.” The line goes dead, and he shakily pulls his phone from his ear, flipping it shut.
“Someone’s coming?” The nurse asks gently. He nods. “I’ll sit with you until they come, okay?”
They sit in silence for a long while, the nurse just letting him lean on her for support, and letting him cry quietly. Eventually, Mr. Vantas runs into the waiting room, alone. He’s at Gamzee’s side in a moment, and the nurse pats his hand gently before quietly excusing herself.
“Oh, Gamzee, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Mr. Vantas says quietly, pulling him into a tight hug. Gamzee can’t keep from crying again, though his eyes can’t make any more tears. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Everything’s okay.” Mr. Vantas lets him cry, doesn’t shush him or anything. Just hugs him tight like he always wanted his dad to do.
“Kurloz’s pretty bad off, Mr. Vantas.” He eventually manages to mumble out.
“You got him to the hospital. They’ll take care of him.” He says gently. His soft and even voice has an edge to it, and even though Gamzee knows that it’s because Mr. Vantas is angry about their dad, he still bursts back into sobs. “Oh, Gamzee…” They don’t talk for a long time, just holding each other while Gamzee cries on and off.
An hour passes before someone approaches them, a man in scrubs. Mr. Vantas pats Gamzee’s arm and detaches him a little, sitting up to pay attention.
“You’re here for Mr. Makara, correct?” Gamzee nods quickly. “Excellent. You’ll be happy to hear that he's going to be just fine.” Gamzee could pass out from relief, sagging against. Mr. Vantas. He wraps an arm around him, holding him close.
“Can we see him now?” He asks. The man nods shortly.
“He’s not awake, but they’re done stitching him up. You can come sit with him.” Mr. Vantas helps him stand, and Gamzee’s surprised at how hard it is for him to walk. It wasn’t that he hurt, but he was filled with a bone deep exhaustion.
Mr. Vantas shuts the curtain, closing the three of them off from the eyes of the people passing in the hall. Gamzee’s eyes are drawn back to the cuts on Kurloz’s arms. Staples hold the wounds shut, and it looks violent in a way he can’t describe. But it’s still him. Kurloz’s breathing is shallow, but he’s breathing, and the beeps tell him his brother’s heart is still going and he’s alive, he’s okay, he’s going to heal.
Gamzee approaches the bed cautiously, and wraps his hand in Kurloz’s. He shifts in his sleep, and after a moment, his hand closes around Gamzee’s. Gamzee bursts into tears again. Mr. Vantas places a gentle hand on his shoulder, a solid weight to remind him he wasn’t alone. It helped.
“You did a good job, Gamzee. You saved his life.” Mr. Vantas said gently.
“Didn’t do nothin’.” He manages through his tears.
“You made sure he got help. You’ve been very brave tonight.” His voice is kind, and firm.
“I don’t feel brave. I feel like I’m an idiot for not managing to get him here sooner. I mean. Shit. How long was he sitting there, bleeding out?”
“You couldn’t have known. Gamzee, I … you’re just a child. You shouldn’t have to be faced with these sorts of hardships, but you’ve weathered them remarkably well.”
A woman clears her throat behind them, making Gamzee flinch. Mr. Vantas rubs his back gently, giving the woman the rest of his attention.
“Hello. May I ask your relation to Mr. Makara, here?”
“I’m just … a friend of the family.” Mr. Vantas says softly.
“I see.” Her eyes linger on Kurloz’s form for a moment before going to Gamzee. “You must be his brother.” He nods a little. “How old are you, sweetheart?”
“Um. Fourteen.” He says, nervously.
“We’ll need to notify your parents about this. There’s several concerns that were raised during his examination.” She picks a file out of some sort of cubby, opening it and starting to thumb through it.
“I’d like to just take him home instead. We’ll talk to our dad.”
“You can take your brother home after his seventy-two hour hold.” She flips the file shut, and Gamzee glances at Mr. Vantas, whose lips are pressed together tightly.
“He’s fine.” Gamzee insists. “He … we have to go home.” Panic was starting to set in. They couldn’t stay. What would their dad do if he found out about this?
“The hold is standard for all mental health patients on suicide watch. He’s at high risk to try again.”
“I’ll make sure he won’t. I promise.” His voice is shaking now, and Mr. Vantas pulls him in closer. “I’ll be really good about it. I won’t leave him for a second.”
“Gamzee, they have to. They’re not going to let him leave.” Mr. Vantas says.
“Fine. Fine! Just don’t call my dad, please!” The woman frowns.
“Unfortunately, since he’s a minor, we already called the number on his file.” Her eyes drift back to Kurloz’s still body. “We have a few issues we’d like to discuss, anyway. And I’d like to have a chance to talk to you, too, Gamzee. Your brother had a lot of … other injuries when he was admitted.”
“That ain’t what this is about.” Gamzee says stubbornly. Even if he told this woman every single thing his father’d ever done, he doubted she’d do much more than cause herself pain. The woman sighs softly.
“We can discuss it later.” She opens her mouth to say something further, but there’s a large amount of commotion in the hall.
“Mr. Vantas, I’m sorry I called you here.” Gamzee says, watching the woman slip out the door and into the hallway.
“Don’t be. It’s okay to need people, Gamzee.” He says gently. Gamzee shakes his head quickly. “It’s all fine, Gamzee.”
“It’s never gonna be fine.” Kurloz’s words echo back to him. It wouldn’t be fine until they died.
“Seventy-two HOURS?” He hears his dad yell, and he flinches.
“Sir. Sir, you can’t go in- Sir!” His dad fills the doorway to the room, ducking a little to get into the doorway.
“Karcin? The fuck are you doing here with my kids?” His dad reeks like the bar he must have just left, and Gamzee takes a step back towards his brother. His dad’s eyes narrow as he gets closer, noting his actions and tucking it away for later.
“I … was made aware of the emergency. I was concerned that you may be too impaired to drive, so I simply made my way over.” His dad is in Mr. Vantas’ space now, but he just looks up at him, back straight and unintimidated.
“Keep your nose out of my fucking business, Vantas. My daughter is sick, I should have been called immediately.” Mr. Vantas’ eyes narrow.
“Kurloz is not sick, Grant. They tried to kill themself.”
“Sounds pretty fucking sick to me.”
“A reaction to certain stresses that may or may not have been put on their person.” Gamzee’s eyes widen, and he shrinks back under the weight of his father’s glare. Mr. Vantas seems to realize the mistake he’s made. “This isn’t anything to do with Gamzee, Grant. Anyone with eyes can see how you neglect them. Hakan and the rest of his regulars see you more often than they do.”
“I don’t rightly know what you’re talking about.” He says, voice hard and cold. “But I think I’d like you out of my daughter’s hospital room.” Mr. Vantas hesitates. “Now.” He folds his arms tightly, and looks back and Gamzee, squeezing Kurloz’s hand like his life depended on it.
“Give us a call when Kurloz is up and about, okay?” He says, voice tight.
“Yes, Mr. Vantas.” Gamzee says softly, and he’s gone. His dad slides the curtain shut, and turns to face the two of them. Kurloz is defenseless right now, and Gamzee’s never had to protect him before. It was always Kurloz standing in front of him. Kurloz always stood his ground as well he could, had kept Gamzee safe.
“Your phone. Now.” He says, voice dangerous and low. Gamzee fishes it out of his pocket, handing it over silently. His dad opens it up, and snaps it in half. Gamzee just presses his lips together, watching him dump it in the trash. “If you can’t fucking think well enough to call me in an emergency, you don’t need a cell phone.”
“Yes, dad.”
“And how I fucking parent is none of that man’s business. Do you understand, or are you too stupid to get that through your head?”
“I understand.” His dad sighs shakily, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I can’t believe this happened.” He says softly, moving past Gamzee to Kurloz.
“You can’t?” Gamzee asks him, voice maybe harder than it should be when speaking to him.
“She seemed … fine. Earlier.” He looks a little on edge now, probably recalling exactly what he did to him.
“While you were ra-” He’s cut off by a slap to the face. He staggers back, holding his cheek as tears spring to his eyes automatically.
“I … never...” His dad seethes at him. “Don’t you dare suggest you know anything about what goes on between us.”
“Kurloz isn’t mom. He-She’ll never fucking be her.” Gamzee grits out. He was being an idiot, provoking him like this.
“Shut up.” His dad snaps.
“Whatever.” Gamzee sits in the chair in the corner, watching his dad take Kurloz’s hand gently. He brushes his hair out of his face, making a soft, sad sort of sound. He has to wonder if Kurloz sees this side of dad frequently, or if this was a one time thing. He’d only caught him crying one other time. Kurloz told him later that it was because it was their mom’s birthday.
“I’m glad you had enough sense to make sure she got help.” His dad says, and Gamzee presses his lips together, frustrated. “I couldn’t lose her. You either, you know.” His dad looks to him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. “All we have is each other.” Their attention is drawn back to Kurloz as the heart monitor speeds up, and he opens his eyes. It’s eerie to see such blatant evidence of Kurloz’s panic when the first thing he sees is their father’s face, and his heart starts going faster.
“Oh thank fuck.” His dad says, squeezing Kurloz’s hand tighter. He makes a soft, pained noise. “How could you, Kurloz?” He asks. Kurloz doesn’t answer, but his eyes search the room for a moment before locking on Gamzee. He looks so tired, and on the verge of tears. “Promise you won’t do something like this again.” His dad’s voice is harsh, and Kurloz flinches. Gamzee can see the effort it takes for him to talk, his throat working for a moment before any sound happens.
“I promise.” His voice is like a whisper.
“I love you so much, baby.” He says softly, and Kurloz doesn’t reply, again. “They’re making us have you stay here for a couple days, but I’ll make them let you go. I know you don’t want to be here.” Now that his dad is already here, Gamzee isn’t so sure getting Kurloz home as soon as possible is a good idea.
“Dad … maybe we should have Kurloz stay. They’re just making sure sh-she doesn’t try again.” Gamzee says softly, voice tripping over the wrong pronoun.
“Stay the fuck out of this.” His dad growls, and Kurloz puts a hand on his dad’s arm, rubbing gently. He seems to relax, just a little. “You want to go home, don’t you?” Kurloz hesitates, and then nods tinily. “These doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t need to hold you. I’m gonna go … have a talk with them again, but be ready to get out of here.” He pulls away, leaving the two of them alone. Kurloz watches their father’s retreating form before looking back to Gamzee.
“I’m sorry.” He says quietly.
“Why?”
“They called dad.” Gamzee pulls himself out of the chair, going to stand next to Kurloz. “He got real mad cuz I called Mr. Vantas.”
“Does he know?” He asks. “About what he does to us?” Gamzee shakes his head a little.
“Just thinks he’s a bad father.”
“He is a bad father.”
“Well.” Gamzee sighs softly. “He just thinks he don’t pay us enough mind. ‘s better that way I think.” They sit in silence for a moment, and in the distance they both could hear their father, loud and angry in the quiet hospital.
“We can’t stay.” Kurloz says softly. “We have to get out of here.”
“Where would we go?” Kurloz glances at the door for a moment, and back to Gamzee.
“Washington.”
“Washington?” He asks. Kurloz nods quickly.
“I … Mituna’s family. They’re moving, to Washington. I was gonna … wait … but. Tonight was so bad, Gam.” He isn’t crying, but he looks so sad.
“Would they even … take us?” He asks. Kurloz shrugs miserably.
“I don’t know. If not we’ll just. Run, I guess. Might be able to make it a few more months. Right?” His voice is getting kind of faint, and Gamzee takes his hand gently.
“We can make it.” He says. “We have to.”