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Trolls aren’t meant to live together. It’s been perigrees since you all arrived on the meteor, and after such a long time stuck in the same space with the same people it starts to get seriously tense. Some of you adapted better to the change, but a whole lot of you find it nearly fucking unbearable being in constant company 24/7. You fall squarely within the latter group.
The solution you and a few others found was to claim your own parts of the sprawling labs and hallways to hide away in. The rooms are cold and sterile, some full of junk, but it’s better than sleeping in the computer lab at least. You had set yours up pretty early on, picking a room at random and dragging in a computer and some vaguely furniture-shaped objects from around the meteor. Unbeknownst to you, though, you weren’t the first person to move in. Another member of your party had already been living next door, and because you have the worst luck in the entire fucking universe, it just happened to be the one guy who hates you more than anyone else on the ship.
It’s not your fault, Eridan started all of those petty fights. You had been perfectly content ignoring him until he tried to get you all killed. Really, he was asking to get blasted into next Wednesday with how much he pestered you. At least knocking him out cold got him to leave you the hell alone, at the cost of destroying half the computer lab.
In fact, that fight had been the last time you’d even seen him until you learned you’d moved your makeshift respiteblock in right next to his.
It was your intention to spend as much of your trip as possible in there anyway to avoid any conflicts, but Feferi insisted you come out occasionally to socialize. It felt like a chore sometimes, but you’d do it for her. It wasn’t always bad, anyway. That’s what you had just got done doing when you walked back down the steel grey hall to your sad little hideout, completely unaware of the massive shitshow waiting for you a door down.
Honestly, the first thing you thought when you heard the sounds was that some animal had gotten loose from the lab and impaled itself on his shitty wand pile or something like that. You’d almost managed to convince yourself it was a stress-induced auditory hallucination when you heard it again, a decidedly troll-like rasping that sounded almost… painful.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, frozen in your steps in front of your own door.
You try incredibly hard not to be a nosy bitch, you really do. Especially when it comes to Ampora and his blatant emotional problems. But you’ve already seen what happens when he loses his shit once before.
He would have killed you if you’d reacted any slower. He probably could have killed Feferi too. He almost killed himself, giving up to Jack.
Suddenly, an unpleasant feeling racks your body. You remember some of the things she told you about him, the real reason she waited so long to break things off between them. How worried she was for his own safety, how she had been so afraid that their relationship was the only thing he had to keep him from doing something awful.
Another raspy cry breaks the silence like a knife into skin and you feel cold all over when you realize he could very well be bleeding out behind that door. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, he could have already been dead for days. You can feel yourself starting to freak, and you decide the best way to stamp out the creeping dread would just be to go up and check. He’s probably fine, just being fucking dramatic like always. Hell, he could just be snoring like a dying meowbeast. Maybe he’s got sleep apnea or something. You almost managed to convince yourself that nothing’s wrong by the time you knock on the door. Almost.
“Open up, finfathe. It’th Thollux.”
There’s no answer at first, and you start to reach for the doorknob hesitantly.
“ED?”
“Go ‘wway.” A slurred grumble comes from behind the door, a beat too late.
“Nope. I’m thpothed to check on you. FF’th orderth.” It sounds reasonable enough, and she had asked if you’d seen him recently. Apparently no one else has since the fight.
The only response you get is a sort of growling whine, and you decide to crack open the door as slowly and casually as you can. Curiosity killed the meowbeast, you guess. You don’t expect to see the glowing blue tip of Ahab’s Crosshairs pointed straight at your bloodpusher when you turn the knob.
“What the fuck, ED!?” You put your hands up reflexively, even though your psiionics render the gesture completely meaningless to him.
“Leavve, me, ALONE,” He hisses, labored breaths drawing out each word. “The last thing I need right noww, is you pickin some petty fuckin’ squabble ower nothin’.”
You gape at him in disbelief, half because of how hypocritical he sounds right now and half because he really, really looks like shit. His usual accessories are gone, only wearing a plain black sweater and his striped pants. Squinting harshly without his glasses, his eyes are dull and puffy like he’s been crying for a long while. Strikingly dark rings circle them in contrast with his pale grey skin, unruly locks of hair draping over his forehead without the usual gel holding them back out of his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so… Plain? He looks so different without all his pompous bullshit on.
“Are you theriouthly pointing a gun at me for trying to check up on you? Have you ever conthidered thith ith why nobody liketh you?” You snap in frustration, almost out of reflex.
His weary gaze hardens, twisting into a scowl. “Did you just come here to insult me, Sol? Wwhat an ev-vventful fuckin’ life you must lead. Good for you, wwonderful fuckin’ job. Wwhat, you ww-want a gold star?” His words are hollow and bitter, wavering madly and breaking like crashing tides.
The strain of his voice reminds you that you're mainly here to make sure he’s not having a complete shithive meltdown like last time, a goal you are definitely not accomplishing right now.
If he loses his shit again, you don’t want it to turn lethal. You barely avoided it last time.
“...I’m coming in.”
You hesitate, moving so slowly you swear you can hear your joints creaking as you push the door wider with one hand, the other carefully, carefully reaching to lower the tip of the rifle trained on you. Eridan steps back hastily, clumsily. His face is frozen in a snarl, fangs bared and eyes blown wide. The door swings open fully when he backs away, though, and despite your better judgement you step into the darkness with him.
The room is dark, but not dark enough to completely obscure your vision. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust from the constant fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Looking around, you see scattered belongings in disarray flung across the tiny cubicle like a miniature hurricane had come through. Capes, pillows, broken wands, like an Eridan-themed vomit of clutter were haphazardly dumped all over the place. He bows his head almost ashamedly, even though it’s only a bit more messy than yours. Well, okay, maybe more than a bit. You aren’t sure what to say, blanking until he opens his mouth again.
“Ww-what d’you wwant? I, I told you- I’m not in the mood.” He sounds almost panicked, stumbling over his words. It sounds a little like he’s not breathing right. Alarm bells are ringing in your head, telling you to get the hell out before he blows you to smithereens, but something you can’t quite place urges you towards him.
“And I told you, I’m here to check up on you. It thounded like you were hurt.” He huffs at that, a little too shaky to be snooty.
“I’m fine. Obvv-feiously.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “An’ stop talkin’ to me, your fuckin’ lisp is givin’ me a migrane.” Normally you’d take that as an insult, but the way he says it, it actually sounds true. You heavily doubt the first statement, though, given that his hands are shaking so badly he can barely hold his gun.
“Will you jutht be fucking honetht for once in your life. I’m trying to be nice to you, clearly you're fucking freaking out or thomething and I don’t want you blowing your brainth out in here after all the effort KK’th made to keep uth from killing eachother.”
He tosses his dumb blue rifle on the floor angrily, crossing his arms over his chest and backing up even further. You kick the door closed behind you before stepping towards him now that you won't risk getting shot, even though you’re pretty sure he was bluffing with Ahab’s.
“Wwhy the hell should you care? Wwhy wwuh-wwould fuckin’ anybody? I’m about the wworst scumbag left in the entire bloody galaxy, I’d practically be doin’ it a favvor! It’s not like anybody’d givve a shit any– ‘nyw-way.” His voice cracks and trails off.
You bristle at that, brows furrowing instinctively. “God, you’re tho dramatic. I’m literally right here offering to help, why doeth the reason even matter to you?”
“You’re just here to mock me. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that.”
“I’m not-” You hesitate, frustrated. “I’m not trying to. Theriouthly. I’m fucking worried.”
He chokes out a hollow noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob that makes you flinch. “Like hell you are.”
“What’th that thuppothed to mean?” You hiss incredulously, feeling pretty goddamn unappreciated in your rare selfless deed.
“This is your fault, Captor!” He bellows suddenly, making you step back in surprise. “YOU did this, I already knoww you fuckin’ wwon so quit rubbin’ it in my face, okay!? I knoww I fucked up, I knoww you all hate me evven more than ya’ did before, I KNOWW IT, so please, stop-” His indignant roar fizzles out with a gasp, stattaco breaths rasping like he’s choking on air.
“Just, please. Please stop. I don’t- I don’t wwant’ya t’ hurt me, I’m sorry, I knoww it’s my fault but I don’t–”
His voice is so shot it’s barely above a whisper. Slurred words stutter over his lips, curling in on himself pitifully. Eridan’s backed himself into a corner, chest heaving, eyes wide and unseeing. You must have said something wrong, because he’s seriously panicking now, and you think he might actually not be able to breathe with the way he’s gasping.
“ED? Eridan? Oh, shit-” He’s stopped responding to you, not even looking at you anymore. Oh god, you are completely unprepared for this. You're usually the one freaking out in these situations, you’ve never been on the other end before. You’re trying desperately to remember what helps you calm down when his knees buckle, slumping against the wall and swaying dangerously. Not thinking, you rush to grab him, trying to stop him from falling.
“Hey, hey, it’th ok, I got you, you’re ok- I’m gonna hurt you, you’re ok…” You lisp quietly, shifting your hold to wrap one arm firmly around his waist, guiding him towards the floor before he loses balance himself. He’s a little shorter than you, just enough for his chin to rest comfortably in the crook of your neck when he leans his weight against you. You use your psiionics to gather a pile of pillows and gently lower the both of you into a sitting position, trying to mimic the way Aradia would coddle you when your episodes got bad. You don’t know if this is the same thing, hell, you don’t even know what ‘this’ is, but it’s better than doing nothing, at least.
Hanging limply in your arms, you can feel Eridan’s pulse kicking against your ribcage and in his throat where your skin overlaps. His breath comes in little frantic bursts, pausing for periods where you can still feel his chest twitching but no air comes in at all, at least from what you can tell by the sounds. Then all the sudden he starts hyperventilating again, making that pained raspy cry you heard through the door. You stroke his back, his hair, anything you can think of to try and placate this panicking violetblood before he asphyxiates to death in your arms.
“Breathe, c’mon, breathe… In and out, come on.” He seems to make an effort to catch his breath, but it comes too shallow and too fast to yield enough oxygen. You try to regulate your own breathing, but it’s a little difficult in the position you're in.
Carefully, you lean back, trying to lay down fully without dropping him or yanking him down too quickly. He doesn't really seem to notice or mind, letting you maneuver him around to lie comfortably on the nest of pillows and capes you’ve haphazardly created.
You end up in a sort of awkwardly pale position, his head on your chest and you holding him with a hand on his back and the other in his hair. He seems to be breathing easier, though, so who cares? One problem at a time. It’s not like anyone's gonna see you like this, anyway.
Your mind lingers on that thought, tracing up and down the knobs of his spine absentmindedly. You hum softly to the tune of some video game OST that’s been stuck in your head, running your other hand through his unruly curls and coming to rest between his horns. Slowly, his painful gasps dissolve into broken cries. It’s a shaky, quiet sound, like he’ll get in trouble for it if he's caught. It makes your heart hurt, a burning sort of pity bubbling in your chest and threatening to spill into your throat and out your mouth. It scratches at you as you listen to him cry, trying to ignore how deeply wrong it feels to be cradling your matesprit’s ex-moirail like this. Obviously you’re only doing it to keep him from flipping off the handle, but no matter how many times you think it, it still doesn't get rid of that burning feeling. He needs someone. You’re just the sorry sucker who knocked on the door first. Right?
It takes you a moment to realize he’s been trying to say something, muffled from the fabric of your shirt and barely legible through the tears.
“Huh?”
“Ww-why are’y doin’ this?” He slurs, voice hoarse and quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Reasons fly through your head immediately, but seconds pass before you can think of one you’d be willing to tell him.
“Becauthe. I want to help you.”
It’s true. The last thing you want is for you to have to fight him again, and you definitely don’t want him dead either. It’s just basic decency, you’d do it for anybody. He’s annoying, sure, but that doesn't make him unworthy of living or being treated fairly. He still deserves to be… to be cared for. You can’t settle on a way to phrase what you’re doing without it sounding wrong. He’s not special to you or anything, you aren’t doing this out of anything but neighborly concern.
“You shouldn't. I’m awwful to you. To ewerybody. I’m a horrible, terrible, useless excuse of a troll.” He sobs into your shirt. “Y’should jus’ kill me noww, wuh-wwhile you got the chance. I, I don’t ewen knoww– I dunno wwhy I’m, I’m still alivve.”
Your arms tighten around him, making him flinch on accident. He doesn't really think that, does he? It sounds so painfully sincere. In fact, it sounds pretty goddamn similar to things you’ve thought before. You really, really hate it.
“Don’t say that. I don’t want you dead, dumbathh. I wouldn’t be here thnuggling with you if I did.” He huffs out a shaky chuckle at that, cutting off into a bitter sob. Your hand glides down his back, and he shudders weakly.
“This’s cruel, Sol.”
You pause, but he still leans into your touch. His eyes are dark and lowered, full of shame as thin lilac streaks roll down his cheeks. He looks so miserable and helpless in your arms, you can’t help but feel a terrible sinking pity. This is probably the first time he’s been hugged in perigrees, sweeps, even. When he notices you staring, he looks so guilty, tucking his head to hide his face from your gaze. The tiny insecure gesture tugs at your heart.
God, this is so stupid. Why is Eridan Ampora of all people making you feel this way? You’ve never even had a palecrush before, you’re fucking terrible at this stuff. But no, this isn't pale, goddammit. It’s just regular, wholly platonic and reasonable concern.
“I’m not mocking you. Theriouthly. Ith it that hard to believe that I sintherely care about your wellbeing?”
Honestly, you feel a little insulted at the insinuation you’d pull such an elaborate scheme just to humiliate him, or whatever he thinks is happening. You can be an asshole, sure, but you aren’t fucking evil like that. Why would you ever want to hurt him so badly? Why does he think you would?
“But… y’can’t stand me. Wwe fought all the time.”
You sigh heavily, scratching at the base of one of his horns. “You thtarted thothe fights. I didn’t want to hurt you. I thtill don’t. I jutht wanted you to leave me be and thtop trying to fuck up my quadth.”
He tilts his head forwards to meet your hand, pushing his horn into your palm and letting you ghost the tips of your fingers along the curved underside. Gently tracing the ridges with your nails, you watch his eyes slip shut beneath furrowed brows.
“...I’m sorry. I wwas just- I wwas so lonely.”
“Why were you tho fucking rude if you jutht wanted company, then? KK would have hung out with you if you didn't keep picking fights with all hith friends. FF probably would have thtayed friendth if you didn't try to ruin our relationship.”
You don’t know whether to tell him how worried they both are for him. Feferi’s pissed, obviously, but she still wants to make sure he’s safe. She feels like it’s her fault you two started fighting, even though you've told her she isn't responsible for him. It’s been stressing her the hell out. Karkat is half-terrified of the both of you after watching you nearly kill eachother in the computer lab. He’s more worried than Feferi, at this point. You’ve had to reassure him multiple times that Eridan’s even still alive. Even Kanaya’s asked you about him, even though it was just in passing.
“I… I don’t knoww. I wwas scared, and angry, and– an’ I fucked evverythin’ up. I’m sorry.”
Something about the rawness of his voice makes your skin crawl. You don’t like how vulnerable he seems, how intimate it feels to be seeing him like this. The last time you were this close to him, you were checking his pulse after bashing his head open against the wall. You had been so angry then, so tired and sick and all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. That nagging caped figure doesn't compute at all to the pathetic boy crumpled in your arms right now.
What are you supposed to say? You aren't just going to forgive him and tell him it’s all ok, he’s spent so long harassing you and your new matesprit, one weirdly personal pale-charged encounter isn’t gonna change all that.
Ugh, you don’t understand any of this. If he was so desperate for attention, why did he make you hurt him? If all he wanted was just… this? Would you have even stayed with him now if you didn’t feel guilty for breaking open his skull? None of it makes sense, and maybe he’s just as confused as you are.
Laying your head back, you shut your eyes and wrap your arms tighter around him. He makes a little surprised sound, tensing and untensing his muscles like he doesn't know whether to relax or run.
“How long are you planning on hiding in here, anyway? It’th been what, weekth?” You break the silence, making him look up at you.
“Dunno. I wwas just goin’ to sleep the rest of the trip.”
You wrinkle your nose. “That thoundth boring ath hell. And lonely ath hell, which you jutht said is what made you lothe your shit the latht time. Got any other ideas?”
He grumbles, glancing away ashamedly. Another exasperated sigh escapes your lips. He looks guilty at that, and you can feel his cool skin starting to heat against yours.
“...Stay?”
“What?” You blink. His face is mostly buried in your chest, desperately avoiding your eyes, but you can see the tips of his fins turning lavender. That’s… kind of cute, actually. You try desperately to ignore that thought, for fuck’s sake, now is not the time. Preferably never is the time. Oh god, why is your brain like this?
“I, uh- I don’t… Wwanna be alone. Right noww. An’ you’re kinda the only person I’vve talked to since, uh, y’knoww.”
“Right. Yeah. I…” You think for a moment. The longer you stay here, the more you risk doing something incredibly stupid. Things are complicated enough already without Eridan in the mix. You could make some excuse, get up and leave and pretend like this never happened.
You look down. Eridan’s eyes are still wet with tears, pathetic and pitiful and miserably desperate. You’d never forgive yourself for leaving him like this.
“I’ll thtay with you. My room’th right next to yourth, anyway.” You can see the relief on his face, feel his body relax against yours. You think you are actually going to explode and die.
“God, thanks. I‘m sorry, I knoww, I’m fuckin’ pathetic–”
You can’t exactly shush with your awful monster teeth in the way, so you settle for making a ‘ch’ sound like you're scolding a purrbeast. Eridan’s ear-fins prick up at that, wide eyed and confused at first, but then he seems to get it. He huffs out a chuckle, the closest thing you've ever heard to a laugh from him. “Yeah. Sorry. I mean- fuck. I should stop talkin’.”
“That might be your betht idea yet.” He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no malice in it anymore. Using his forearms to scoot further up your chest, he headbutts you in the chin playfully, careful about his horns. You squawk indignantly, grabbing his face with both hands to push him away. It’s only when he makes an odd sort of chirring sound that you notice you’ve accidentally got him by the fins, something you have been informed by Feferi you should absolutely not do, at least not without asking first.
“Thhit, thorry, my bad,” you let go, panicking a bit at the discolored marks your fingertips leave behind. He sits up immediately, leaning back onto your thigh where your legs are overlapping. Your hands slide down his back as he does, briefly coming to a stop at his hips before you drop them altogether in a panic. Nope, nope, nope. Fuck. Why do you have to ruin everything?
“I thwear, I didn’t mean to… Uh. Are you okay?”
“Owwhhh- ‘Mfine, I’m fine–” It may just be the reflection of your eyes’ light on him, but you swear you can see his face turning violet. His fins are pinned back to the sides of his head, hands kind of hovering over them protectively. Hopefully you didn't damage them at all, you can see little darker spots in the webbing that look almost like bruises or burst blood vessels.
“Doeth that hurt?” You sit up halfway, one hand hovering uselessly in front of you. Shaking his head, he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “No. Y’just-” he winces, definitely seeming uncomfortable. “You just grabbed em’ a bit hard, is all. They're, uh…”
“Senthitive?” Being as careful as possible, and giving him ample time to stop you, you brush your fingertips over the violet webbing of his fin. It twitches a little, making his eyelids flutter. Something churns in your stomach at that. He nods a little ‘mhm’ to your question, face flushing a deep purple. Cupping his cheek gently, you bring your other hand up to his waist as he practically melts into your touch. Slowly, you lay back down. He follows suit, settling with a contented sigh on top of you. You were kind of getting comfortable in your shitty makeshift pile anyway.
Seadweller fins aren’t the texture you’d expected. You had just assumed they’d feel like cartilage and skin, though you hadn’t really given it much thought. The grey parts are, mostly, just a little smoother, but the silky membrane in between is soft to the touch. Dragging your fingers delicately along the frills, careful to avoid the fading marks you’d left before, the gentle chirring sound starts up again. Petting his fins seems to be soothing, or at least calming him down pretty quickly. His breathing’s slowed and evening out. You think he might be falling asleep.
Despite the mental turmoil you've been in for most of it, it actually feels kind of nice, cuddling like this. The cool weight on your chest and torso is comforting and solid, and his hair is much softer without all that pompous hair gel freezing it in place. You’ve never felt quite so peaceful being in close contact with someone before.
With most people, it gets overwhelming fast, too warm and stuffy and sweaty to be comfortable. Feferi’s cold blood negates most of those factors, but she’s always so excitable and public and chatty it ends up being too much for you a lot of the time. Eridan isn’t someone you’d ever expect to be a big cuddler, but…
Argh, this is so weird. It’s even weirder how natural it feels. You think some sick part of you might actually be enjoying this blatant palebaiting, from your current matesprit’s ex no less, which is a grotesquely awful can of worms you don’t even want to think about right now.
You really hope he doesn't get any ideas about this. Things are complicated enough. You absolutely fucking refuse to let Eridan ruin the one good thing you've got going for you since Aradia left. He seems hellbent on tearing you down in any fucking way he can. Just because you're doing better than him. Hopefully Feferi understands, she’s reasonable like that.
But what are you even worrying about? This doesn't mean anything. You hope he knows that, hope you've made it clear he means absolutely nothing more to you than any average sucker on this stupid rock.
God, having morals is exhausting. Sometimes you wish you were a worse person just so you didn't have to feel guilty about these kinds of things. You wish your horrible overthinking mutant brain didn't ruin things even more than he does.
A small rumbling sound snaps you out of your spiraling, and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s coming from Ampora. He’s purring in his sleep, scratchy and weak, like it hasn't been used in a long time. You can feel the vibrations from his vocal chords against your chest where he lays. Scratching behind his ear fin, the sound gets progressively louder.
It’s so stupidly cute, it makes you fucking angry. Jolly little fucker doesn't even understand the mental torment he’s putting you through, does he?
Oddly enough, though, the sentiment of it makes you almost happy.
You don’t make people feel good. It’s just not the kind of person you are. You’re a bitter, smartmouthing asshole who pisses people off and gets under their skin. You aren't a comforting presence by any means.
Maybe he hasn't gotten the memo yet.
You don't know why that makes you feel so strange.
Looking at him, tired and aching but still dead asleep in your arms, you feel almost accomplished. Maybe you aren't as bad at this as you thought. You hold that thought in your mind as you shut your eyes, drifting off to sleep yourself.