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Old June 8th, 2013, 09:06 PM
an illegible mess.'s Avatar
an illegible mess.
the prince of guro.
 
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: florida, u.s.a
Gender: Male
Nature: Rash
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homestuck fan-fiction. i dont really post here often but since it's summer and i have time to do whatever i want i decided to get going and get more of my writing out there.

this piece contains sensitive and possibly triggering material incluing suicidal thoughts and tendencies and depression. it is strongly advised you proceed with caution if you are triggered/offended by any of these items.

you've got sucker's luck

have you given up...?

by "john"

He sat with the same vacant, misty blue stare. He was thinking and losing track of everything and nothing and hoping to a God that did not exist that he’d be back home. He just wanted to go home.

The windy boy was nothing short of defeated. His shoulders echoed his body shaking sobs, hands tugging and pulling out wads of jet-black hair, his fingernails digging into his scalp and sending pricks of pain that he hardly felt over the emotional overwhelm of hurt, anger, and sadness.

“It’s all my fault… All my fault…” He knew in his heart he could have done something. He didn’t do it at the time and it was the most frustrating part; the part where every word about the subject came out in a jumbled mess of who it was to blame. But the worst thing about it was that there was no one to blame except for the son of the father that was murdered.

A shiver shot up as a cold hand lightly touched his spine. He tried to stop sobbing but hiccupped instead and he cursed and whined and oh how much he hated himself for all of his being.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” The voice that had startled the windy boy was coaxing and warm and feebly he reached out blindly for him like a kitten stumbling for the curve of its mother’s belly.

The knight whose blood was a scum amongst scum on his planet had his arms curled protectively around the windy boy. He whispered lullabies in his native tongue, the only fragment of his language he had remembered.

“Everyone’s dead, we’re going to die, we’re losing, we’ve already lost. Oh my God. Oh my God…”

The knight remained silent as the windy boy babbled on, his words becoming more incoherent as time rolled by. He didn’t want to hear the truth yet but it was right in front of him. There was nothing they could both do anymore and they were destined for failure right from the beginning.

“Do… Did you ever want to die, Karkat? Did you ever want to… To just...” His grasp on the knight’s shoulders deepened, and he felt his sweater that he wore rip just a little.

He nodded and the windy boy knew, “I want to die. I want to die, oh my God I just want to die. Kill me already. I give up. I give up, I give up, I give up…”

It’s all a mess after that. The windy boy is too choked up to even continue speaking. His tears create crystalline pools on the ground beside the knight and he holds on to him with all the strength he has. He holds onto him with the strength he hopes will eventually ebb and cease to be. He wants to be nothing.

The windy boy had put up with so much, and you, the knight, were so impressed by his willpower and how he could contain his depression until now. He held in so much. He held in everything about his father and how everything went downhill after that. He lied to you so many times but you still believed him because he was such a good liar. Even though it was awful to do such a thing, it was still so amazing and inspiring.

But now that he is broken, you are too. The life that gave you strength wants to fade away. Now you are crippled under his deadweight. Now you want to die again. Now everything you held in for so long is coming out too and you are just as messed up as he is.

You give up. You give up, you give up, you give up.
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