counting your scars and missing the stars [discontinued]

“So, you want to tell me why exactly you were out there in the first place?”, Karkat offers him the mug of hot chocolate, stream coming off and fogging up his shades, and he takes it with caution, the tips of his fingers sweltering where they grip the drink. The ginger doesn't seem like the murdering type, and since Dave has the power to tell what humans are thinking, he knows this for a fact. It’s a bad habit that he hasn’t managed to shake off, the not trusting people thing. People don't casually think that someone offering you a drink is planning on poisoning you. “Dude, don’t tell me you’re blind,” he replies casually, lowering the coco down from his lips. It’s way too hot to drink right now, he’ll burn his lips and tongue if he attempted.

“No, Strider, I’m not fucking blind. Are you deaf? Because it sure as hell seems like you can’t answer a fucking simple question as why you were sitting outside with only a grainy hoodie to keep you warm in under freezing fucking temperatures! Or are you just dumb? Please, for the love of all things holy, tell me you have at least some braincells up there in that empty space you call a skull.”

“..You done?”, Dave calmly asks. He obviously wasn’t expecting that response, if the second of mouth open, eyebrows knitting together, eyes narrowed, overall expression of “what” could go by anything, but he recovers nicely, a little bit sloppy but Dave can work with him on that later. “Yeah, so now can you answer politely considering I allowed you into my home when I don’t know jack shit about you."

The blonde inspects him behind a dark mirror, reflecting what he sees back to the ginger; a mirror that can hide his insecurities and fears, and after a beat of a minute, shrugs. “I wanted to go for a walk, so I walked and ended up at the park. Why’re you out there?” Carcat reddens, his hands picking at a stray string from his sweater. He took off the overcoat when they got inside. “Uh, me too. I took a walk too.”

A lie, but Dave understands not wanting to tell a practical stranger, acquaintances considering it’s been a week, that you have a few classes with that the reason you were a park at nine at night was because you were going to meet your crush, who didn’t even show up.

“Cool.” He took this time to look around the house, totally one-hundred percent expecting to see crosses and general Christian things, and he thinks that with not meaning any offence to Kankri. The man just is- a big pain in the ass who shouts his beliefs fucking everywhere. It was a quaint home, if you looked or a more practical Rezi word, smelled, past the bleach and overwhelming cleaning products. Seriously, Dave knows the preacher is a germaphobe, but even in his own house?

“Yo, what the fuck is up with your uncle or dad, why you suddenly living with him. I don’t know what he is for you. Could be a kidnapper, just saw you walking down the street and mistook you for a kindergartner. Then, holy jesus you’re in the back of the white van because that candy is just too good to pass up. Didn’t you learn in Ohio never to take candy from strangers, much less actually go in the evil white van? The good thing is that your kidnapper is obsessed with cleaning shit, you'll be all nice and clean when he goes to eat you.”

Karkat’s eyebrows are raised, patiently waiting for him to stop talking and Dave notes how hard the kid’s trying to seem relaxed when he’s more tensed than a spring, “Firstly, has anyone ever fucking told you that you need to learn how to shut the fuck up. I bet they have, but you’re too stupid to understand. Basically all there is too it is closing your fucking mouth! Secondly, Kankri is my brother and- something happened in West Virginia so I’m living with him until I’m done with Highschool. And he has OCD, which is a lot for serious than being just obsessed with cleaning.”

My father fucking died but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Sweet, I’m originally from Texas. I moved here last year, so I guess I have to thank ya from taking my spot as the new kid. Everyone was pretty surprised to see me, ‘specially when I moved into the Lalonde mansion, so just think ‘bout how they react to Mr. Stick Up His Ass getting a roommate.”

He chuckles, wiping his hands on his pants, “That explains your accent. I was wondering where you got it.”

Dave is painfully aware that he sounds like a character from Sweet Home Alabama, but he was hoping that it wasn’t obvious; it’s hells of uncool to be a Texan in a small patriotic town that hates the fact that in the Civil war, the South wasn’t bombed into nonexistence. “Hey, don’t diss the accent.” Karcrab tisks, “I can diss whatever I damn please, you nozzlefucker.”

“Wow, rude. And here I thought that we were getting along,” he holds his arms up to block the plush pillow he throws at him, “And what the fuck is a nozzlefucker? Do I fuck nozzles? Or does the nozzles fuck me?”. That earns a lengthy groan as another fluffy object hurls towards him, and he swats it to the side, where it hit his hot chocolate. Fuckkkk. Both of them sit upright as the cup wobbles, both holding their breath and Dave reaches out to steady it when it suddenly tips over. He would later say that at least the liquid getting all over his hands made it so a majority of it didn’t get all over the spotless peach rug.

“SHIT!”, he yanks his hands back. Holy fucking hell it hurts, it’s stinging and his skin is bright red, he has no clue if that’s what it’s supposed to look like or not. Dave knows nothing about water burns, living with Bro meant cooking was always a death sentence and Rose’s mom did the cooking (when she was sober, otherwise Rose was the cook) so he’s never gotten one before. It feels like all of his skin cells are screaming in pain, he might be screaming in pain if he didn’t have a filter. He retreats his eyes away from it and stares at the person who caused this to him, not that he could see it.

“Holy fuck, Dave!”, Karkat shoots up from the couch and reaches as if he’s going to grab his hands before quickly pulling back. “We need to put your hands under cold water before it blisters or fucking gets infected,” and he's trying hard to be mad, but the guilt was so prominent on the ginger’s face. Then again, it hurts like a bitch so he settles for a seething glare as he follows him into the kitchen, swallowing any whimpers of pain that has even the slight possibility of coming out of his mouth. Dave can't show any weakness that Vantas could use against him.

“I am so fucking sorry.”

Jesus christ, I can't believe I just did that.

“I didn't know it would topple over like that-”

To be fair, he did bat the pillow into it and then reached for it-

“Kankri’s kettle over boils the water so fucking much, I was making coffee this morning and almost burnt my tongue like a drunk idiot who's not capable of nothing something right in front of his face!”

Motherfucker, I can't believe how badly I've fucked up this time. I invite him to my home and then burn him. Way to go, Karkat. He’s probably so fucking pissed and I deserve it.

“It's all good man, it's not like I have to go to the hospital or anything, right?”, Dave reassures him, trying to smooth out some of that anxiety, but instead Karkat’s grip on him tightens where he thrusts both of them under the faucet and he looks even more panicked than before. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. The cold water hits him and he bites on his cheek to keep from making any noises, however the pain is soothed, marginality, after a few seconds. “No, it’s just a first degree burn, we’ll run it under cold water and then put some antibodies on them. You don’t have to go to the hospital,” he recites like he has it ingrained in the side of his brain. Knowing Kankri, he probably was the one who tattooed it.

Dave stays silent for a few moments, gazing at where Karkles’s holding his wrist gently, he eased himself out of cutting off the circulation from Dave’s not-at-all comfort. Would using my powers work? Th- He jerks back, unsure what he just read. Powers? Karkat has fucking powers and apparently they can help him with his pain? No, no he must of read that wrong or the shorty is batshit crazy, there’s no way he could have actual honest to god powers like himself, right? That shit is just bonkers.

“Dave, are you okay?”

Shit, he has to go, leave, something other than staying here, but instead he tells him, “Ya, I’m good. Just thought I saw a rat. I have a secret to make, I’m actually schizophrenic and I imagined you up. You’re not real and you never have been, hate to break it to you, but I figured it was finally time.” His mouth has taken on autopilot and running by itself while his brain is still glitching the fuck out. He is definitely overreacting, Karkat has no chance of actually being some super freak, that shit just doesn’t happen. Even though he’s living proof of it.

His hands hurt again, and he allows the possibly other freak guide his hands back under the water. “I’m going to go get the medicine, stay under the water this time, you stupid, annoying asshat.” He obliges, only because it really does sting if he takes his hands out of the sweet, refreshing liquid. Karkat must of meant nothing by thinking he had “powers”, what are powers anyways? How are they made? Why does Dave have them, and how can he get rid of them? Not that he will, he has a fucking gift and he’s not giving it up anytime soon.

Dave has successfully managed to push the superhero thing to the back of his mind (is that a pun when he has mind powers?) when Karkat returns, some medical shit in his arms. ‘Course he knows most of them, he’s had to stitch up whatever pieces that were hacked off him before the Move. Yet for the second time, he lets Karkat take the lead in helping him. It’s also because he knows absolutely shit about burns, how to take care of cuts, no matter how big, but burns? Burns are something he’s, thankfully, never had before now. He’s a careful fucker and Kitkat seems to know what he’s doing for the most part.

For the lack of silence, something he can never stand, he blurts out, “Let’s play Never Have I ever,” then wishes he had his camera on him because the look Karkat gives him is outstanding and hilarious.  and totally not because he looks adorable with his eyebrows furled like that and his mouth partway open huh what? “Are you fucking serious, Strider? Is now really the time to play an adolescent girl’s game that was very frequent at so called slumber parties?”.

Dave declares, “Oh, you would know. Never have I ever been on a plane.”

Crabbycakes groans loudly in displeasure, but plays like Dave already know he was, “Fuck you. How the hell are you supposed to put down your fingers when the burns are mostly on your fucking fingers? You didn’t think this through.” Shit, he’s right. The blonde shrugs, noticing that his hands are all neatly bandaged now and that it kinda looks badass. He’ll totally prank John by telling him he got in a fight because he’s that cool. Maybe. “I’m fine. Put your bitch ass finger down.”

“Go to hell,”  he listens and puts one of his fingers down, “Never have I ever been to the movies.” Dave gaps openly at him, no way in hell that’s not a lie. “And before you accuse me, it’s the fucking truth. Da-. Um, I buy the movies so I can rewatch them however many times I want.”

“That’s so fucking bullshit.” Dave puts one of his fingers down on the hand that’s not as burned, “Never have I ever been to a concert. Locally counts.” Karkat glares at him before stalking off to the couch, he trailing after him, “I hate you. It seems like you know everything I have done and are using it against me.” Surprisingly, given his track record, he isn’t cheating. That would suck all the fun out of it.

“Never have I ever..”

Time passes, two hours holy crap, with them just goofing around. Somehow they ended up with Dave laying upside down on the couch and Karkat sitting right next to him on the floor. He learned a lot of things about Karkat Vantas, mostly pointless facts like Kanaya is his cousin on his father's side, his favorite color is grey (boring as shit), he's planning on entering a career of writing, and his favorite animal is crabs; that sort of stuff. The whole time he kept searching in his mind to find some sort of thing for, any sort of thing, about the so-called powers, but he never thought of it again. It drained Dave, he knew it was going to, but he did it anyways.

“I can’t believe that John Egdipshit almost talked you into getting your fucking bellybutton pierced, were you high or something?”, Karkat wasn’t looking at him, his attention was focused on his phone. “Or something,” he agrees and pushes himself up, the blood rushing to his head wasn’t helping his situation at all. He would ask for painkillers if his pride wasn’t so strong, he doesn’t think he would trust them if Karkat did give him some.

“Have you ever gotten high?” The question wasn’t out of the blue, a perfectly normal response question, and Dave could see the hesitation leaking off Karkat in ways as he replied carefully, “I’m fourteen.” He shrugs casually, “So I am and I’ve taken a hit before,” and knowing he’ll see the look of disgust before he even peers over at the other teen, he explains, “Only once. Being high fucked up my game so I never tried it again.”

He murmurs a muffled sound of acknowledgment. The silence was forced and awkward, clenching them in a tight hug that wasn’t the goal of the question. Dave didn't even think twice about asking it and now he regrets it, they had a roll going on and he had to fuck it up by asking the brother of a preacher if he's ever gotten high, a bad boy thing. Fortunately the uncomfortable quiet was broken when Karkat’s phone went off with a high-pitched ringtone, both of them jumped, (metaphorically of course) , and he picked it up in a flash.

“What?...She’s in your bedroom, fucker...I know, okay!....Uh, also I have a friend over, is that okay?...I don’t give a shit that it’s late just like I don’t give a shit that I should be sleeping for maximum amount of hours in a comatose state because it’s ‘good for my health’. You think you would learn what insomnia is, fuckass.” He hangs up with an inked on scowl and takes a deep breath, setting the phone down beside him. “My first week in this godforsaken town and I already want to leave, is that how you felt when you first moved?”.

“Completely. I just wanted to get out and go back to being what was the normal for me, but I couldn’t. Was that Kankri?”, Dave inquiries and Karkat nods, so that cleared up any other questions he was going to ask. It’s strange to think that the red-haired asshole showed up just four days ago, he got here Tuesday and it’s already Friday. They almost never spoke to each other besides mindless jabbing, plus Karkat was always weirdly quiet whenever there were people around/only them alone (which was rare.) He only ever seemed to open up around John (his big homo crush) and Kanaya (his cousin).

Dave appreciates that Karkat was the one who showed up at the park or else he would never gotten to know him. His company isn’t that bad, it’s..quite nice. The whole powers thing is fucking weird still.

“Hey, you’ve been more quiet in the past twenty minutes than you have ever been since I met you, what the hell’s wrong? If it’s Kankri, then don’t worry. He has his panities in a twist for no reason and if he’s not cool with you staying the night, then he can drive you home. Do you want to go home?”. Karkat has these extraordinary brown eyes, so open and earnest like it would physically hurt him if he tried to keep his face a blank slate. Now, Dave doesn’t really mind it. The lighting is too low to see the red in his eyes, but his freckles pop out against his so very pale skin. “Strider? Hello? Dave!”, the ginger slaps his arm and he jots back, tumbling off the couch into a defensive stance.

He gets up too quickly, and it sends his head reeling. It was a terrible idea to read his mind every ten minutes for two hours straight, a terrible fucking idea. His vision is blurry, yet he can make out Karkat reaching towards him slowly almost as if Dave’s a violent animal. “Calm down, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” In response to the meant to be resurring comment, Dave pukes.

Pukes on the orderly peach carpet that has small stains in one area that was the hot chocolate.
“I- I’m sorry,” he blubbers though he isn’t that much because he feels a lot better. Kitkat looks downright horrified, and fortunately dry, before he smirks, “Don’t be. I hated that carpet anyways. Now, what the absolute crap was that just now?! Why the fuck did you puke, please explain to me the reasoning why you thought it would be a good idea to get sick in my house? Ugh, just go take a shower already.” That went from zero to one hundred to zero again, and with the way he’s getting up it doesn’t look like Dave can offer to walk home again. (He’s fairly sure he would pass out in the middle of getting there).

Karkat leads him to the bathroom, shoving him a handful of clothes that are definitely Kankri's, telling him not to take too long but stay in there long enough to feel better, and then slamming the door in his face. Is this what it feels like to be taken care of?

It feels good.

Dave doesn’t know how long he takes in the shower, but it was long enough that Karkat didn’t push him back in and short enough that he didn’t get yelled at for wasting all the hot water. When he walks out, fully expecting to get slapped or into a strife, definitely screamed at, he’s sitting on the couch with a thing of tums in his lap and a movie Dave’s never seen playing on the television. “Kankri called again, he’s going to be late so I thought we could watch a movie. It’s an old one, so I hope you don’t mind. Not that I could care if you did, you vomit-producing asseater.”

The vomit is gone, leaving behind another brown stain, so is the smell and he doesn’t know how he managed to get rid of that, it fucking stunk. “I’m down for a movie.” His head is a lot more clear after the shower, (the bathroom was nothing impressive considering Lalonde), and he doesn’t think he’ll throw up again, if he does he’ll do it on his shirt or something so he won’t ruin the carpet some more. Wait, he’s wearing Kankri’s shirt and it’s gross (and frankly rude) to throw up on someone’s shirt in their own home. Dave assumes by now that he has taken the title of worst house guest for the year by now.

The t-shirt is baggy on him, which is odd because he’s moderately sure that he’s taller than Kankri and the only clothing he’s seen Kankri wear is this tight firetruck red turtleneck. It’s white with two zigzag in the middle, it’s so hideous that Kanaya would be shrieking and he wouldn’t blame her.

He sits a few feet away from Karkat, far enough that it’s not weird. He’s embarrassed about what happened, the adrenaline from the ptsd and the nausea and head throbbing back to back was overwhelming and too much for him to handle. Dave's fairly sure he's not going to hurl or do anything else to damage his coolness rep now, he's tired as fuck though. Where's he gonna sleep, anyways? “Eat two of these, they should help calm your stomach. Next time you vomit, you’ll be cleaning it up, bulgelicker.”

He removes two, pops them in his mouth and chews. Paying attention to the movie seems a good idea as any, if it wasn't obvious from the forced flirting of the actors that it's a romantic comedy. Karkat just lost ten points that he worked so hard to gain, how do you feel Mr. Vantas? Your choice in movies is worse than Egderp’s and he’s Nicolas Cage’s certified husband.

It was a little over halfway, right when the woman is running away in tears, when Dave closes his eyes for a quick rest, only to not open them for the rest of the night. It’s been a tough day. He doesn't see Karkat pulling his shades off or covering him with a blanket, much less him brushing his hair out of his eyes. And even if he did, that no homo card is still on the table.

The door slamming close wakes him up from a light sleep, his sense alert and confused before he remembers he spent the night at Karkat’s. His shades aren’t on his face because when he opens his eyes, he immediately winces at the bright fluorescent light and squeezes them shut. He feels around him, finally catching the edge of them; the sound must of been Kankri coming home. Hopefully everything goes as planned and he doesn’t get thrown out in the street.

“Karkat? Oh, he must be asl- OH GOD!”, the brunette literally jumps in the air, his hand  hovering protectively over his heart when Dave sits up, him groaning as his bones crack. That couch shouldn’t be used as a sleeping place, it shouldn’t exist at all. “Sup?”, he offers, holding his hand up for a motionless wave. Dude’s not cool enough for a fistbump. The whole situation gets more awkward and very much worse when Kankri narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, jutting his chin outwards, “I’m assuming you're the friend Karkat told me was spending the night?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend, we barely know each other. I mean, we’ve obviously gotten to know each other while chilling on your not at all lumpy couch and totally not spilling chocolate on your perfectly nice carpet, much less puking on it. Holy shit, I should shut up now, you did not need to know all of that.” Dave word vomits on the owner of the house he’s staying at, great plan and this why he should really buy that sock that fits perfectly to shut him up. A foot is pretty evidently not working.

“Before you even think about it, don’t integrate him. I know he looks like a douche, and he is, but there’s more to him than what meets the eye.” Karkat coming to the rescue yet again, hell to the yes.

Dave gets up, realizing that the ginger did call him his friend, and he can’t help but feel proud about that. Somehow he knows that Karkat doesn’t give out those titles very easily. Kankri (crap those two names are very similar) goes into the kitchen and wordlessly Karkat follows him. They’re more than likely talking about him in secret to not be rude, so he should probably start to get ready to leave. He knew when he came in that he was going to have to leave at some point, but he wished that at least the sun would be up. It’s like two in the morning, three  hours ain’t that bad, he guesses. Maybe John can take him in for the rest of the night.

His clothes are not where he left them, so he pockets what he has, his phone and earbuds, and slips on his sweatshirt, conveniently on the jacket rack thing before lamentably walking to the door. It’ll be polite to leave so they don’t have to awkwardly tell him to go. It’s best for both parties involved.

He’s halfway out when something pulls on the oversized crappy shirt and he freezes, staring coolly at the accuser. “It’s negative two degrees outside, are you fucking insane?!”, he informs Dave. That’s really fucking cold, considering he’s used to hundred degree weather even after living in this town for a solid year. His brother is leaning on the wall, frowning, but generally looking concerned. Dave’s not going to find out for sure because he really needs to chill before he goes into a coma. He also feels really awkward considering he's in his shirt.

“Maybe.”

Karkat scoffs and shuts the door closed, then drags him back next to Kankri. “I’m tired and would very like to pass out, can you get your stupid speech on already?” Kankri sighs, they could be twins with how closely they look if it wasn’t for the hair and freckles, “Fine. I’m Kankri Vantas, Karkat is my younger brother. If you have any possible triggers, please don't be afraid to tell me. I already have a list for Karkat, so it wouldn’t be a bother at all. What are your pronouns if you don’t mind me asking, I would hate it if I offended you or outed you in any way. Please don’t use any profanity, I believe that cursing is not ‘hip’ or ‘cool’, but disrespectful.” What the actual fuck. And he’s still talking, he’s still fucking talking. This is so what he expected, but so much worse to have it right in your face and not just walking down the street.

“Yo, I’m Dave Strider,” and Dave’s last name, his face darkens and he cuts in, “Do you happen to be related to Dane Strider? I believe he went by ‘Bro.’”

....no.

“Y-yes,” he manages to stammer out. this can’t be happening, oh shit oh shit oh shit Bro found him, he knew where he was this whole time karkat was as ploy how could he be so dumb what was he thinking why didn’t he see this coming hE CAN READ MINDS FOR FUCKS SAKE- This is it, he’s going to get dragged back to Bro’s or maybe he’s going to die right here. He would rather die than ever go back to that sick maniac, good memories or not, he can’t ever fucking go back. No one knows about Bro, why would anyone know him besides to get Dave back but he thought Bro hated him, wanted nothing to do with him, why the fuck does karkat's brother know him?! did rose notify him, but she would of never done that maybe she got tired of him or maybe it was mom lalonde she didnt look for him for a reason.

He knows he looks pathetic right now, he can’t stop shaking and there’s literal tears balling up in his eyes, and Bro is going to be so disappointed in him. Six hours before, he wouldn’t have cared, but now he does care that he's very well having a panic attack. Being as emotionless as possible, doing everything he taught him, not fucking everything up, that’ll make him go not easy, but not the hardest he can go with the strife. He knew for a fact that if wqas too good to be true, it fun while it lasted. A year without Bro. 0 days of being Bro free.

Dave doesn’t know how long they stand there, he can’t bring himself to look at Karkat or read his mind, he’s so scared and weak and he knows there’ll be pity in Karkat’s eyes- or the pleased, contentedness. This was all a big set up, this whole fucking time; he can’t believe he was actually considering Karkat a friend. Two hours and you think you know a guy. He closes his eyes and waits for the blow, maybe Bro is already in the house and was just waiting for Dave to fuck up. There was a million other things he could of done, he could've just gone to John’s or walked home even if he would’ve gotten frostbite. It would of been worth it. If only he could be anywhere but here.

“Get out.” Kankri’s voice was cold and malicious, so full of hatred that he’s takes a step back. What- where's Bro, was he outside? Is he there? “Get out of my house.” Dave gawks at him, a loss at words and blinking back tears. “Kankri, what the hell!?! Please for the love of god, tell me you’re not actually considering throwing him out in the street when it’s negative two fucking degrees!”, Karkat stands up for him and for the second time, he’s confused. Do it. He needs to-

Oh god, how long was Karkat talking to him? We’ll need to move, I can’t believe- of all people- the scum who killed my father was in this town the whole time?

“I don't know why you're showing your face in my house,” he continues without taking a breath, clenching his hands into fists, "Is it to get close to Karkat? To take him?!". Dave's reflexes are already on edge, and a part of him knows that he would win if Kankri tried to take him in a fight, but another part is screaming danger and how he needs to block to protect his vital organs. Just like with Bro. Defense is more likely to have you survive, while offense is a death sentence. He shifts into a defensive stance, subtly so it goes unnoticed. “You look so much like him, I see it now. What were you expecting, trying to find out some secrets? Karkat knows nothing, so leave him out of this. Now get the fuck out of my house!” He flinches back, and he knows he's hyperventilating by now, Karkat sees it too, “No! He's not leaving, he'll fucking die out there and I'm not going to let you send him to his death.”

They start to argue with each other, their voices raising higher and higher; while Dave just stands there, his heart beating faster than it the time ticking away, in the middle of a fucking panic attack, and how it doesn't seem like he can't get any air in his lungs. He's going to die if he doesn't leave, he has to go- this is his way out. now. Instead he gasps air in his lungs, and whispers pathetically, “I didn't k-kill your father.” Karkat's head whips towards him and he shrinks under the fiery gaze when he asks him what he just said. “I said, I didn't kill your f-f-father,” he spoke more confidently, but curls in to himself even more. What is he doing? This is his death sentence.

The teen widens his eyes, about to say something before the only adult in the room cut him off before he could even begin, “Mindreader." They openly stare at him, and his fists twitch. "You- you get out before I make you.” He’s breathless, almost as if he can’t believe the words he’s speaking, but the Strider doesn’t wait to find out. Dave could only realize how badly he's fucked up this time, so he turns around, ignoring his instincts that are shouting at him from years of past experience to never turn his back on his opponent, and runs out into the frigid, cold street. He needs to get as far away as he can, maybe he can go live with Roxy or Dirk? They’ll understand, they’ll protect him. They’ll take care of him.

Because it’s obvious that he can’t take care of himself.