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It’s been two months since Dave Strider asked you to be his boyfriend. Two months and you’re already holding on for dear life.
He comes around at night sometimes, when it’s cold on the meteor and he wants a little bit of attention before falling asleep with whatever warmth you can give.
He’s been doing this far before you two even became a thing. The door would creak the slightest bit, and you would be unceremoniously knocked out of your slumber. Sometimes he’d come while you were busy talking to your dead friends in dream bubbles. You’d never complain, though. You would make room for him on your human resting slab (after you unfortunately outgrew your recuperacoon) and he would hold you close, his head resting right between your horns.
But it’s different now, because you’re actually dating. He’s your boyfriend. Does he even want to call you his? You aren’t sure.
Of course, he doesn’t play his cuddles off as ‘bro hugs’ anymore, or say he’s trying to ‘fix the bird nest on your head’ when he gently runs his fingers through your hair. He simply does it, and then he rests his head on your shoulder, and then he whispers in your ear that he loves you.
Part of you feels like he’s lying. You haven’t yet brought it up to him, though. You can’t tell him that you know his love is waning only two months into the relationship.
Because what if he admits it? What if you tell him you think he hates you and he agrees? God, you’re pathetic. Karkat Vantas: world record holder for Fastest Relationship Ruiner in Paradox Space– and also the most self-loathing, tragic piece of shit in existence.
His shades don’t hide a lot. Of course, they hide his eye color (which you have seen a plethora of times) and expressions and whatnot, but not when he looks at you. You can always tell; when you’re both hanging out with Rose and Kanaya in the common rooms and he just won’t stop staring at you . He’s probably regretting all of his decisions. Regretting all of the times he’d told you how much he loved you. Regretting all of the warmth he’s wasted on such a fucking idiot.
And then his eyes meet yours. And then he makes sure nobody’s looking before giving you the most precious smile the world has ever seen. And then you roll your eyes because you love him too much for your own damn good.
Maybe it’s just that weird midnight anxiety you get. You lay awake, thinking and thinking and thinking . Mostly against your will. It isn’t like you choose to stress over this meteor and your friends and everyone else you love. Do they even stress about you? Most likely not. Everything is always so one-sided with you.
You miss his warmth, even if you know it isn’t genuine. You miss his hands in your hair and his voice in your head and the sweet, intoxicating vision of his smile that keeps you coming back for more. You miss his stupid (oftentimes vilely perverted) jokes and his stupid raps and the stupid way he takes his glasses off to put them on your head when you’re alone with him. You miss his kisses.
You wish he knew how much you loved him.
You wish he loved you back.
You hear the door creak softly, gently. He peeks a head in, just to make sure you’re in there. You lock eyes with him and he almost flinches under your gaze.
“You’re awake.” he says, half-deadpan and half-surprised. He comes closer as you make room for him. “I’m, uh– When was the last time you slept?”
“Since the last time you came over like this.”
“That was two days ago.”
“I know,” you groan. You slap a hand over your face as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. What the hell, he usually just lays down and hugs you.
You peek through a few of your fingers, exhausted. He’s anxiously fidgeting with his sleeves and lightly tapping his foot. “Karkat?”
You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head over to him. He has something to tell you, and you know exactly what it is. You know, achingly, rawly, what he needs to say. He swallows hard, the knot in his throat bobbing up and down and if it weren’t unsettlingly dark in here you’d swear you saw a droplet of sweat beading on his forehead.
“Kar– um.” Spit it out, Strider. I know what you have to tell me. You don’t love me. You never have. You never fucking will. Nobody will ever fucking lo- “Can you please–” he chokes on his words a little, “–hold me tonight?”
What.
You slowly slide your hand off your face and rest it on the pillow near your head. “Dave, I hold you literally every time you trudge your ass into my respiteblock. You don’t need to ask anymore.”
“No, dude. Well, yes , you ‘hold’ me, but I’m always, like, the man .”
What. What the fuck does that even mean. You’re both males, if you’re not mistaken.
You cock an eyebrow and he fumbles over his words a little. “I just– I don’t know, dude. I just want to rest my head on your chest while you run your fingers through my hair and stuff. Like I do to you sometimes.” He presses his lips into a tight line before continuing, “God, I sound like such a douche.”
He irritatedly rubs his hands over his eyes from under his glasses a little and you grab at his wrist. “Calm down. It's fine.”
The room is dark, except for the soft glow of the hallway. His eyes trace your face, as if he were memorizing it for a test. The way he looks at you, the way his eyes are honest to god glowing . He’s so beautiful and you really, really want him. You want him to want you.
You motion for him to lay his head down on you, and he does so with the urgency of a snail. It’s as if he’s afraid he’ll break your ribs if he puts too much force. He pulls the blanket over the two of you and finally breathes out. You feel all of his tension– his frustration, sadness, anxiety– slowly dissipating as his breathing slows.
“Dave?” You run your fingers up and down his scalp, letting your claws scratch at the parts you know he likes most. “Why do you want me to hold you?” His breath whirrs for a second. “And why were you so anxious?” You laugh around that last part. What does he think you’re gonna do? Refuse him? You think you’d rather die.
“Well, since you so kindly ask,” He sounds somewhat annoyed, but not genuinely. “I want to be able to look up and see your face, since you immediately choose to bury it into my chest every time I get into your bed. Seriously, Karkat, is it such a crime to want to see my boyfriend's pretty face?”
That only gets another eye roll out of you. You only know he's lying because you’ve seen yourself in the mirror lately and it is not a pleasant sight. You have razor-sharp teeth that tend to stick out, unbrushable hair, and absolutely egregious eyebags. You honestly might just be the complete opposite of ‘pretty’.
You scoff and he looks up at you from above his glasses, his eyes all scarlet and half-lidded and gorgeous. Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat. He may or may not have heard it.
His lips slowly curl into what you think is a smile. “There's more,” he drawls. “I like hearing your heartbeat and the way your breath slows when you get all comfy,” his voice is slow and drawly now, and wow , does it get a kick out of you.
You can feel the heat slowly rising to your face; you're probably as red as his cape now. If you two were still on Alternia, you'd have been culled in half a second. Nobody could ever mistaken your crimson blood for one of a simple rustblood’s. Your blood even matches his eyes.
“You’re really warm, did you know that?” Dave giggles and continues with his sleepy rambling, “You also smell, like, really good. God, I just want your warmth and your scent and your hands all over me. Did you know that, Karkat?”
Your eyes widen a whole lot at that last sentence. He tips his head up at you and he has the dumbest, most shit-eating grin on his face and you really want to kiss it right off. His hands slide up to the crooks of your neck and he scoots up a little to place a soft kiss on your neck. Then another. And another.
“You’re killing me, I hope you know that,” You chuckle as he gently nestles his head at the side of your neck. You often forget how flirty he gets when he’s barely awake. His hand finds your face and he rubs small circles into your cheekbone with his thumb. You really hope he can’t feel how warm your face is right now.
You’re more than comfy. You’re secure, safe. He makes you feel so sheltered and warm and reassured, like you matter.
Slowly, your breathing slows and just before you doze off, you catch a few extra words from him.
“I love you, Karkat.”
I love you, too.