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Equius Zahhak is an arrogant ass.
Of course, you kind of fall in that category yourself, not that you’d ever admit it except during one of your occasional self-hating rants. Which happen pretty much every night. Often more than once.
God, past you is always terrible, even when you literally just stopped being him.
…Especially when you just stopped being him, you idly think, ice pounding through your veins as their contents make its color known to the world.
The world, for all intents and purposes, is currently a freaky-as-fuck greenblood and his indigo pal. Fuck, she could give Terezi cackling lessons.
The guy shoves you, hard, and you tumble into the back wall of the alley, almost catching your head on it. The girl laughs, a harsh bark in the still night air.
“What the fuck kinda color is that,” the greenblood growls, a vicious smile lighting up his face. “It’s practically the complement of mine!”
You open your mouth to deliver a particularly biting retort, but the indigo is slamming her hand, claws first, against your shoulder, and the line comes out as a garbled string of expletives.
She steps back coolly, a smile as insane as an indigoblood’s should be on her face. “It’s a shit kinda color,” she agrees, admiring her claws. Her voice drops, and so does your stomach. “Now, what the fuck are you going to do about keeping it quiet?”
Fuck, even at his worst, Gamzee wasn’t this bad and oh fucking mother of fuck an adult’s coming.
No, wait, even worse - it’s that horsedouche Zahhak.
-------
The bitter humor of your internal monologue fails as that sinks in. Oh fuck. OH FUCK. It’s Equius motherfucking ZAHHAK. The hemospectrum bitch. Oh god, you might have been better left to these two. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
He lets his hands drop all buddy-buddy on their shoulders, mutters something under his breath. Oh fuck, are they friends? God, fuck, shit. Even Gamzee - sober Gamzee - would be preferable. Tavros. Vriska. Hell, even Eridan. Well. Maybe not Eridan. He’s as bad about the damn spectrum as this asshole and romantically desperate to boot.
You eye Zahhak’s musculature as he continues talking to them. Eridan, yeah. At least he couldn’t split you in half on accident.
You flinch as the indigo offers/orders him to hold you down and join in. Oh god, oh fuck, oh god. He never could resist orders.
Or.
Or maybe he can, because the guy’s head is crumpling against hers and now he’s throwing her into the wall and oh god you are going to die.
You freeze as he drops her and heads your way. Oh gog, he killed an indigo to get at you. What the fuck does he want with you that’s....that’s worth that?
-----
He stops, just....just looks at you. You try to recover a little, looking at him. “S-so.”
Bastard doesn’t say a thing, just keeps standing there. And staring. You’ve always hated that. You break the silence. “So. Now you know.”
He just nods. Fucker. The familiar burn of rage fizzes in your veins, helping dispel a little of that helpless fear you’ve always despised.
Always felt.
You pick up volume, rage at him. “Well? Aren’t you going to fucking do something? Cull me or tie me up and give me to Nepeta or some shit like that?!”
He watches you, impassive. Only now do you realize that without being able to tell if he’s sweating, it’s impossible to read him. Fuck. Fucking sunglassed douchehole. Fucking douchehole that’s saying something.
He’s nodding towards the bodies, making you internally flinch. “I would not have done that if I wanted you dead.”
You stomach drops out. Your stomach left the alley three hours ago. You ignore the fact that you weren’t in the alley three hours ago in favor of freaking out over the only possible meaning of this. He doesn’t want you dead. Fuck. FUCK. That only ever means one thing. “So it’s fucking sex then.”
He almost seems...surprised. What, the fucker didn’t think you’d catch on so quick? “Whatever,” you choke out, “Whatever, just don’t tell anyone-”
-----
You stifle a gasp as his hands crunch the brick wall around you, head bowed like an ancient statue, implacable, unreadable.
He is shaking.
“I will never hurt you, Vantas,” he intones. “I do not like you, not at all, but you do not deserve whatever it is you think you deserve.” Oh fuck. That is not pity you hear. No. “Not culling, not blackmail, certainly not....that.” The disgust in his voice is palpable.
He pulls away and offers you his hand, and you think, behind those sunglasses, he is not going to meet your eyes.
Normally you would bitch and stubbornly refuse anything remotely like help. You grab the edge of his hand with red fingers, nearly slip off, and haul yourself upright.
You stare at him, wanting nothing more in that brief moment than to throw yourself at him and sob with relief against his chest, but he’s already turning away. Fuck.
“Equius,” you call, half-voluntary. You don’t bother waiting for him to turn. Oh god, this is one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done. “Hold still.”
You walk up and wrap your arms around him - not long enough, god damn it - burying your face in the back of his shirt. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t hear the few sobs that escape you before you manage a grudging thanks. Before he can think up some hoofbeastshit kind of acknowledgement, you’re stepping back, nearly falling over the green guy’s corpse as you go.
“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” you manage, stomach rolling at the gore. Equius just nods - if he sees the red on your face, he’s not saying. You leave the alley, and he follows until you’re headed home. You can tell without turning that he watches until you’re out of sight.
Equius Zahhak is an arrogant ass, but no worse than you.
Somehow, you missed that.