Our Last Conversation
“I still don’t see why I have to get up at fuck-all hours,” Karkat grumbled, glaring at the head of similar raven locks as their owner worked by the stove. “And I don’t see why you have to get up with me like this. I know that you don’t have anything to fucking do.”
“Please mind your language, Karkat,” Kanrki said, his diction crisp as ever. He scooped two bowlfuls of porridge out of the heated pot, taking a few seconds to make sure both bowls were evenly filled and equal in every way. Nodding his head in approval, he removed the pot from the stove and carried their breakfast to the table. “You don’t want anyone to feel triggered by it, do you?”
“I don’t fucking care.” Karkat let his head drop on the tabletop with a soft ‘thud’. “No one fucking cares. Only fucktards like you fucking care about fucking triggering people. Fuck.”
Kankri frowned, dragging his spoon around the rim of his bowl absentmindedly. “I believe that you might be spending too much time with Gamzee. You seem to have picked up on part of his favorite word.”
“Well we are dating.” Karkat sat up, allowing Kankri to gently push his own breakfast closer to him. He quickly dug in, barely registering the bland taste of the cheap meal as it rushed down his throat.
“So how is that going, by the way?”
The glare that Kankri received from his younger brother was enough to send the talkative boy to silence. “We,” Karkat gestured between the two of them with his spoon, dripping some porridge onto the tabletop, “are not doing this. I am not going to sit here and tell you all about my day or my relationships or any of those things that you read about in your brain-numbing novels of yours. I am going to eat my slop and you are going to eat your slop. I will then leave and you will go back to bed, or go read, or whatever suites your plausible deniability. Are we clear?”
Kankri stood, taking his now empty bowl with him. “I do believe that you have triggered me.”
Karkat groaned, letting his head fall upon the table again, just barely missing the remains of his breakfast. “I hate you,” he mumbled, barely audible, “I really, fucking truly hate you. I hope you know that.”
“Your basket will be ready in a moment,” Kankri stated, ignoring his younger brother’s words.
“I don’t need you to prepare my fucking basket, idiot,” Karkat insisted, sitting up. “I can do it myself.”
“I do not mind.”
“But I do!” Karkat stood up and swiped the half-filled basket from Kankri, taking him by surprise. “I don’t need you to fucking baby me. I don’t need you to pack my basket or hold my hand as I go through the damn forest.”
“I just wanted to help you,” Kankri stated calmly, “and it is a habit that has grown on me for a large majority of my life. I am sorry if it triggers you so, but it is hard for me to get over these habits and desires to aide you so suddenly.”
“Kankri,” Karkat placed the basket on the table, not bothering to even look at it as he tossed the rest of the meal into it, making Kankri wince at the carelessness, “you need to get a fucking hobby. Sleep in for once. Get out of the house. Go for a walk! I don’t really care, but you need to do something other than lock yourself in your room, reading until I come back. It’s fucking stupid and pathetic.” Karkat tried not to think of the years that he spent doing the exact same thing, save for the occasional outing with Sollux or one of his other friends when they were free.
For once, Kankri didn’t have any words to say. He stood there silently, watching Karkat finish packing before heading towards the front door with him.
Karkat took his cloak from the hook, scowling at the sight of red starting to bleed through the grey. “I need to go to Kanaya’s soon to get this dyed again.” He flung the grey cloth over his shoulders and fastened it tightly, already cursing the world in his mind for the cold chill that he would no doubt feel as soon as he stepped out onto their front porch.
“You could just leave it red,” Kankri finally said, leaning against the doorframe that led to their kitchen and dining room. “I did.”
“Well I’m not you, am I?” The younger brother hissed as he shoved his feet into his boots roughly, not bothering to even unlace them first. “Besides, I hate red.”
“An odd characteristic for a Little Red.”
“Shut up, shithead.” Karkat rolled his red eyes. “And I am not little. I am average height. I just happen to make friends with a lot of freakishly tall fucktards.”
“You shouldn’t call your friends that.”
“Fuck off.”
Kankri bit his lower lip, trying to keep from saying any more to the triggered boy. His eyes followed his younger brother’s form as he sloppily finished his preparations and opened the door.
A faint dusting of red colored Karkat's pale cheeks. “Thanks for breakfast,” he mumbled, quickly shutting the door and rush towards the forest before his brother could respond.
He erased all thoughts of his older brother from his mind as he stomped along the all-too-familiar path, not knowing that he would not see Kankri when he got home. Nor the next day for breakfast.
Or for the next few months that followed.