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Your name is John Egbert and you are in love.
This may be a bit of an awkward revelation to be having at three in the morning in the midst of a movie sleepover.
Especially when the person you are in love with is curled up against your chest, breathing heavily as he sleeps.
Even more so when you turned down said person just a few months ago by telling him you weren't gay (you had been caught off guard, so off guard and getting things back to normal had taken so long and you were terrified he wouldn't ever let you hold him again).
You are so fucking screwed.
Karkat yawns and shifts, and he's heavy and its uncomfortable holding him and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You bury your face in his hair and just. You can't help yourself; you press a kiss to the top of his head. His hair is soft against your lips and your heart is hammering and he doesn't open his eyes.
The next morning, he wakes you up when he pulls himself out of your arms. You're suddenly cold where his warmth had been, and you feel oddly devastated without it.
"We fell asleep in the middle of the fucking movie again," he mutters, scowling as if not finishing the movie is the worst thing in the world. And maybe it would be, if you didn't value every second you got to hold Karkat close to you hundreds of times more than any movie.
You've known him since you were kids and you're so, so screwed. Ever since you were seven years old he's been coming over for movie nights. Ever since you were seven years old you've been curling up together on your bed until you fall asleep watching movies. Ever since you were seven, you're pretty damn sure you were in love with him.
And he loved you back. Except you told him, forced him to move on after he confessed to you and you turned him down.
Now you have to lay here and pretend you don't desperately miss him, that your cuddling is completely platonic, that you don't want to take his face in your hands and press your lips to his and find out what he tastes like.
"John? Are you even fucking listening to me?" He waves fingers in front of your face, and you blink before focusing.
"Umm. I was just thinking about how you should totally come back here and cuddle more because I'm cold." Nice one.
He gives you a funny look. "It's fucking spring." Like you said, nice one.
You don't say anything, but instead turn over and bury your face in your pillow. You're so upset. So happy, but upset. It's not enough. It will never be enough.
There's a pause while Karkat probably gives you this confused face that always makes you smile, and then you feel his hand on your back. "Well then while you're there, I need to say something, so do yourself a favor for once and unplug the sound receptors you call ears and actually listen to me, okay?"
"Sure," you respond, but through the pillow it sounds more like, "mrrrrph."
"John..." He takes a deep breath. "I can't keep doing this. These sleepovers, this...whatever. I can't keep doing it. It hurts too much."
You turn over to stare at him with startled eyes, suddenly terrified. Did he figure out? Did you fuck up? Are you....going to lose him?
He's not looking at you. Instead, he's staring at his fingers, which are picking at the bedsheet. "I know I said I was over you, but...I'm not, okay? I lied so that things could go back the way they were, but I can't keep doing that. I love you."
You shiver at the words, filling up with an emotion you don't quite recognize but think just might be love. "I love you," you whisper, and Karkat shakes his head to cut you off.
"Please don't give me that 'but as a friend' shit. I can't deal with that, John. I love you and I'm fucking miserable and I can't stop and I'm going to mess up and make you hate me sooner or later and I don't want it to happen."
You swallow thickly, leaning forward and then bringing up your hand to tuck a few stray hairs behind his ear. You notice how his breath hitches. "Karkat, I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that every time I'm with you, I'm happy. You're an asshole and sarcastic and even mean sometimes, but I couldn't stay away from you if I tried. I want to cuddle with you and watch movies with you and make you as happy as you make me, and I didn't realize what that meant until after I'd already shut you down, and by then I thought this wasn't an option anymore."
"What do you mean by 'this,'" Karkat asks dubiously, clearly scared to get his heart broken again. Fuck, you never want to hurt him again.
"I mean this," you mutter, and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. You can feel him freeze for a moment before his fingers come up to grip at your shirt, twisting in the fabric to keep you close.
"Don't you fucking dare be lying to me, Egbert," he threatens.
You smile. "I wouldn't dare."
The kiss you share—both your first kiss and his—is awkward and clumsy and absolutely perfect. When you pull away, your face is red and you can still feel the ghost impression of his lips on yours, and you're grinning from ear to ear.
"I love you, Karkat. I really, really love you."
He shoves at you. "Shut up and lay down so I can cuddle you and we can kiss some more."
You're laughing even as you follow his instructions to do what he says. You've never been more sure of a decision you've made in your life.
Your name is John Egbert, and you are in love with Karkat Vantas.