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John bounded up to Karkat, slipping an arm around his shoulder.
"John, what do you want?" The irritable troll questioned, leaning into the comforting touch of his Matesprit.
"A smile! For the camera. Please?" John held up a rectangular device, giving a grin and waiting for Karkat to follow suit. He simply crossed his arms and increased his frown.
"Not a chance." John took the picture, the bright flash a surrounding for a moment. He eagerly checked the image and grinned.
"Thanks Karkat!" He presented Karkat with a kiss on the cheek, running off to undoubtedly take more images of his friends. Karkat sighed. That kid was something else, but it sure was an interesting something else, and he wouldn't change a thing.
Without fail, every week John would ask karkat to smile for the camera, and every time Karkat would frown. The camera roll slowly filled up, and Karkat would be lying if he said he didn't like being bugged in the middle of his day by this energetic boy with the sky blue eyes and dorky framed glasses. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of smiling to please the boy more. And so everyday, he waited without fail for John to bound up, snap a picture, thank him, and give him a warm peck on the cheek. And that was all he knew.
What he didn't know was that his death loomed so close around the corner, and he bumped right into it.
John had sat curled up in his room for weeks, clawing at his chest, pulling at his hair, sobbing and cursing everything he could think of. Not an iota of happiness resided in John's empty body. Just pain and anguish and antagonizing torture of never seeing the one he loved the most ever again. Not waking up to kisses with retched morning breath, or fleeting glances. No more cuddling up and watching sappy movies, no warm hand to hold, no one he could tell he loved more than life itself. The air was piercing, and every breath in was an inhale of knives, and every exhale was breathing fire. When Rose came to check on him, she was shocked by his appearance.
Puffy, red eyes, snot dripping from his reddened nose from wiping, splotched face with tear trails down it, a monster head of hair, and disastrously wrinkled clothing. She slowly stepped up to him, her own heart aching at the loss and pain of her friend. She silently set down a stack of papers, carding a hand through John's hair before leaving. His shaky hands reached to pick them up, and his breath automatically hitched.
Photo after photo he'd taken of him and Karkat. Every picture with John's wide grin and Karkat's heavy frown. His clear tears slipped down his face, making a trip over his cheeks and falling from his lips. He tossed each picture around the room, heartbreaking picture by heartbreaking picture. He clenched the last photo in his grip, barely glancing down before the fresh image caught his attention.
Bright white, sharp teeth, grey skin, nubby horns, messy hair, black turtle neck. John's Karkat. Holding a sign and smiling. Smiling and holding a sign with four words. John's smile turned to a resting stance, to a pout, to a frown. He slipped to the ground, clutching the image to his chest as he hopelessly sobbed to someone who couldn't hear, and never would. And right there, the string holding John Egbert together broke along with him.
'I love you, idiot.'
