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Karl's laughter probably holds all the truth in the universe.
The fireborn is sure it holds the sun and the moon; the stars and the everything in-between them. He's sure it holds every shade of iridescence under the sky, and he's sure it holds his heart, because he'd handed it to Karl the day he first heard it.
But honestly, even though he knows this (and he's sure of it, because that is a truth in itself, and Karl's giggles had whispered so) Sapnap can't bring himself to think of any of these things now. Not now when Karl is the very picture of mirth, lips parted around his reluctant hysterics. They're pink and raw from where he's bitten them in blind terror, and soft from where they had yielded under Sapnap's tongue as he soothed them. Sapnap thinks he wouldn't mind doing it again. He doesn't have to, watching Quackity press a sweet kiss against a willing smile.
But right now Karl is preoccupied with arching away from Sapnap's creeping hands, pale skin glistening with the kind of sweat that comes from barely muffled joy. He's unsuccessful though, because Quackity is there to catch him, pale yellow feathers cushioning his fall as Karl decides he's better off amongst the flowers than at the mercy of curious fingers.
Sapnap follows (he always does), and soon Karl's laughter rings through the glade.
"Stop-"
He's breathless, and they are both determined to keep it that way, pressing kisses and gentle hands to scars that tell of harder times overcome. They're beautiful things, wonderous in their stories of his strength. One paints a path across his cheek, a soft caress on his collarbone, reaching across his chest, his shoulder, his neck.
Sapnap remembers when he had first seen it, an explosion of greens and purples and blues that were accompanied by tears of distress. Karl's eyes had held no recognition then. That night had been awful, sharp nails against hands unwilling to harm; air that stunk of desperation and fear; soft smiles that hid panic and tears.
Eventually, it came to an end, and they were left to pick Karl up and put him back together as whatever had held him captive abandoned him.
Karl had told them that night, hidden from the world amongst too many blankets and just the right amount of arms, that he was afraid. They told him he didn't have to be. All three knew it was a lie.
The next scar licks across his lower back in a frankly possessive pattern, splaying across thin hips and dancing around his belly button. It's vivid in pinks and loud greens that match the clovers that tickle his nape. Quackity can't resist tugging at Karl's waistband to squeeze a raspberry there, pulling a gasp of glee from the brunette above him. Their third doesn't take long to join, a kiss pressed to a clothed hip, another falling on a sensitive side.
They pause whenever Karl let's a quiet "stop" slip amidst his musical proclamations of affection. They resume when the fingers buried in their hair tug slightly, letting them know he didn't mean it, that he was okay. They love in their own silent and smothering way, and Karl thrives in it.
His thanks are accepted wordlessly, and their searching hands are accepted in return, careful in the way they know whatever hurt him wasn't.
Sapnap wasn't sure whether it was the magic that had ruined Karl in those darker days, or if it was himself. Gentleness had always been the librarian's approach to everything except his own heart, and Sapnap knew he could be cruel to himself.
The tallest (their epicenter, their begining, their beloved) had told him the scars running rivers of colour across his skin were evidence of mistakes and things he had failed to change. They had told him that they were proof that he had returned to them. Proof that he was alive.
And when they found him alone, the dull yellow light of the bathroom was shining on his shaking body. They had let him spill his thoughts onto the tiled floor. They let him open up his hollowed chest and show them what looked to be a rotting, bleeding heart.
The poison of his own mind ran deep and evil. Consuming and all encompassing. So they let him, until they could clearly see the him that was so different from the one they grew to love.
Then they told him again. They showed him. Through kisses and caresses and fingers intertwined. Through words dripping in saccharine sentiment, and through sweet tears gathering in love laden eyes.
Karl did not heal then.
It was a slow process. Days where mirrors had to be packed away in cardboard boxes, where covers were pulled over tangled curls. Others where he couldn't be found, and came back empty eyed with new wounds to nurse and memories to mourn. A violet splash across an elbow, a cerulean streak wrapped around a thigh.
Karl was a portrait that was ever changing. Relearning how to love his now jagged edges was hard, but falling for the symphony of colour they protected was as easy as breathing.
When Quackity had said this, Karl laughed, and said that breathing wasn't easy when you were drowning alone at sea. Sapnap lent over him wordlessly, and breathed life into trembling lungs. Nothing more was said, there was no need.
It was a slow process. But there were days where Karl would wear short sleeves to bask under the sun, where rainbow tinted scars would be accompanied by an equally bright smile. Others where he would let them trace his jagged edges where his exterior had cracked open, smoothing them out so he would no longer hurt himself. Sapnap had akined him to a geode.
Karl laughed, but he didn't deny it. The avian clinging to his arm just about lifts off in his excitement.
"You're beautiful."
The words are punctuated by a cold nose pressed to his neck, soft downy feathers brushing against his skin. The next are accompanied by a searing kiss laid on his thigh. Their whispers devolve into blissful shouts, three people and one heart tumbling in the glade.
Karl finally replies, voice lilting in its entirety. "What am I?"
It's teasing, and the answer was obvious, something he had heard a thousand times before. And still they indulge him, settling down to scatter kisses where presented his hands.
"You are as bright as the stars-" Quackity has no qualms with spoiling his lover, the rare moment of vulnerability intoxicating. "-and Sapnap as large as the sun."
The man in question doesn't hesitate to lean up from where he's laying on Karl's stomach to clip Quackity over the head. It was a stupid thing, a joke that had run for too long, but it made Karl laugh nonetheless.
"For a shortass, you make too many jokes about my height Q."
"It's because I love you."
Karl just smiles, pushing the two fools away as he rolls over. He pulls on a blue jacket (it's Quackity's, and the hybrid makes his false displeasure clear), and stands up, turning to offer a soft smile to his lovers laying amongst the flowers. Complaints spill from their lips as they clumsily follow, but Karl does not worry like he would've a couple months ago.
"Was it too cheesy? Is that why you're running away Karlos?"
The traveller knew there was no escape. They'd follow him to the ends of the earth.