Work Text:
He’s given up.
Well, he gave up a while ago. At some point, it actually hit him that
'Nobody likes you, Ampora. They all wish you were dead, so they wouldn't have to deal with your whiny bullshit any more.'
And the thing was that he couldn’t even tell himself that no thats not true my friends like me a lot evverybody wwants to hang out wwith me i havve lots of friends because Eridan knew that wasn’t true.
Everybody hated him. Even Karkat and Kanaya didn't want to talk to him anymore.
And it was all his fault.
Something about finally realising this -- about realising how whiny, greedy, needy, clingy, annoying, and basically every other negative adjective, he is -- it made him break inside.
It made him hopeless.
It made him empty.
When he thought about his title as the “prince of hope” now, it just made him laugh. How could he have ever had the title "prince of hope" when he has no hope. He would probably never have hope again. Everybody had left him. Feferi, Karkat, Kanaya. Even Vriska had suddenly become too good to deal with him. Everybody.
Everybody hated him, and it was always in the most platonic way possible, of course. They actually wanted him dead, or were apathetic to whether he was around or not.
He didn’t mean anything to anybody any more.
And this thought just kept haunting him. He couldn't stop thinking about it.
How could he have fucked up this badly?
And so he just sat there, huddled in a dark corner of a dark room, far removed from everybody he had ever hurt, the sting of tears burning as he tried so hard not to cry. He knew nobody would come looking for him.
All he had ever wanted was to be liked, wanted, cared about.
And now everybody had forgotten him.
He meant nothing to them.
And he was all alone.