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"This bitch is motherfucking tiny" is arguably your first coherent thought when you're presented with the Troll that's supposed to be your Matesprit.
He's like a solid two heads shorter then you. You sorta gotta crane your neck to be looking at him, so does he.
You can't help but crack a bit of smile at how pissed off he looks. He's so tiny, and he looks so fucking angry. It's pure comedy, lightens the weight of the fact you'll be forced to marry in no more then a months time.
"Fuck are you smiling at?!"
Oh my gog.
He's fucking amazing.
"Not much." You crouch right on down to be face to face with him, if he punches you out you don't even think you'd be mad. "But uh, you're kinda small."
"And?" He snapped.
"Chill man, I'm not gonna throw you out."
You watch as the considerably smaller Troll freezes up. Like watching it blue screen.
"You know where your block is right?"
He nods, rigid and stiff in motion.
"Coolio, see ya 'round brother."
-/-/-/-
You end up finding the fucker at your door near like, the middle of the night.
"Yo," You start with as you stare at him, leaned up against the frame all the while.
He looks like his Lusus got culled.
"Did something happen?"
He shoves past you into your room. You swear you can see smoke rising off the top of his head, just storming through like a hurricane. All of his steps are deliberate and heavy.
Cool.
Is this gonna be a frequent occurrence? You don't know, but you don't really sleep much anyways. Won't be much of a bother.
You pivot to face him, leaned up on a wall instead of the door frame. "Dude—"
"Do you even know my name? Or am I just some fucked up social experiment, see if the heir can handle an inorganically formed Matespritship?" His voice is all shaky as he lays down such baseless accusations.
You can't help but laugh a bit.
Yeah, no, he hit the nail on the head as any of your non-Alternian bros would say.
This whole fucking deal is a mess.
"Well why don't you tell me your name, we'll see if I got given the right infographics in preparation."
That was clearly the absolutely, 100% wrong thing to say because he raises his head and he's crying these pretty red tears and looks livid. Highkey those tears do look like rubies, all shiny and heady with pigment. You try not to focus on that though because he looks like he's ready to bang his cranium against a wall till his horns snap right off.
He just, he just sort of sighs. Whole body heaving up, and then down again. He wipes away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket before looking at you.
"I'm Karkat Vantas."
"And I'm—"
"Gamzee Makara. Unlike some of us I did some research on who I'm being forced into partnering with."
This time the laughter is sheepish.
Karkat does not reciprocate the notion.
"Look, Karkat, I'm like, sorry you're stuck here. but it'll only be a month before ya get kicked." You hope the notion is a comfort. Like, arguably the position he's in is way shittier then yours. You're just the prince who gets to go through a hundred arranged Matespritship's till one is found that clicks. Why it's always an arranged deal, you don't know, but tradition's a tradition. And uh, nobody in charge wanted to break, even if you were verbose about it.
Karkat just groans, dropping his head in his hands again.
"If it makes you feel any better we could go have some pie."
"How the fuck would pie make me feel better?"
"'Cause it's got sopor slime. Always takes the edge off for me."
"You know what, sure. Let's go have some sopor pie. Get absolutely zonked out of our fucking gourds. Let's do that. It sounds fucking great."
Despite how sarcastic he sounds he is standing up and making his way over to you.
-/-/-/-
Realistically, you and Karkat probably should've at least tried to click in that fabled flushed way.
Instead of doing any of that you mostly spent two weeks just fucked up. There wasn't ever a single waking moment spent fully sober, always drifting between absolutely fucked beyond belief or barely holding onto that blissful high. Of course, one slice for Karkat did as much for him as a whole pie for you.
He's really giggly when he's high. That or he's dead silent. There isn't really much of an in between until he's coming down from it.
Doesn't bother you much though. You're just glad it makes him a little bit less angry at the entire world.
-/-/-/-
It's a mistake, that's what you try to explain to yourself as Karkat retracts his hands.
Then he steps back.
"Fuck."
Whether you only think it or say it you aren't sure, but the touch lingers. Like, it really fucking lingers. In a good way, kinda like a fuzzy blanket, a phantom sensation.
When your vision is properly and fully focused again you look at Karkat. You don't even bother hunching yourself to do so, he's already so far away you don't even need to. Nothing but fear is on his face, a shiny veneer of red in his eyes as he shivers with far too fast breathing.
"Yo, dawg."
You try to keep your tone as even as possible.
Apparently that's making it worse because Karkat really does start crying. In a really quiet way, nothing like how he normally does. Tears just sorta roll down clear skin, free of the greasepaint you taught him how to do. They gather at the edges of his jaw before falling down to the ground.
"Why'd ya fucking shooshpap me brother?" You gesture a little bit as you talk, trying to ease this horrid tension in the air.
"I didn't mean to, I swear. I was just doing stuff and then I did that. Was it really shooshpapping? I don't think so-" Karkat prattles on for a brief moment, a lot of the words just hit you but don't really sink in. He speaks fast. Too fast for it to register sometimes, and maybe that sweet, sweet haze of contact is still fogging your thinkpan.
You take a couple steps closer and Karkat keeps on talking. You drop to a knee, which puts you shorter then he is. Reach out with both hands, and just, give him a gentle little bap and shush him.
And he goes dead silent.
The opening to talk before he starts up again is brief.
"I know it wasn't the reason you got brought here in the first place, but, I have been feeling just a bit pale for you. Wild what getting loaded and talking about stuff can do to the way ya feel, ya know?"
Karkat still doesn't answer. You haven't stopped tapping hands on his face, careful with your claws.
"Being a Moirail with the heir probably won't look very good as a report back to your fam, but if it's mutual, I wouldn't say no. And if it's not, then I can totally set you up for life 'cause—"
Before you can continue you Karkat is returning the favor, hands on your face and repeatedly tapping. He's still too speechless to talk much, but there is a small little hint of a smile. The slightest little uptick that shows off far too sharp teeth (especially this one little snaggletooth fang).
You'll take that as a reciprocation of pale feelings.