Chapter Text
CG: I'M NOT DEAD YET.
TA: nice 0f y0u t0 take a m0ment 0ut 0f y0ur busy schedule 0f t0tally ign0ring me t0 deliver that n0t even slightly self-evident nugget 0f inf0rmati0n.
TA: i appreciate that s0 much.
CG: IT'S TAKING LONGER THAN I EXPECTED.
TA: what is?
CG: DYING.
TA: 0kay, tempting as it is t0 play al0ng and watch y0u flip y0ur shit, y0u're 0bvi0usly n0t y0ur usual el0quently 0bn0xi0us self.
TA: s0 i'm g0ing t0 d0 y0u a huge fav0r and act as the v0ice 0f reas0n here.
TA: y0u're n0t dying. if egbert says y0u are, he's pranking y0u.
CG: NO, HE SAYS THE SAME THING. BUT THE WAY HE'S ACTING
CG: HE'S JUST
CG: IF I WASN'T
TA: shit, KK. this is better than th0se keymashes a c0uple nights ag0, but n0t much.
TA: maybe y0u sh0uldn't be at the c0mputer.
CG: IT'S THE GREEN SYRUP. I CAN'T
CG: WORDS
CG: VERY MUCH.
CG: I'M ON MY PHONE. IN BED.
TA: well, g00d.
TA: fuck, i sh0uldn't laugh, but y0u're a stitch like this.
TA: wh0 am i kidding. i sh0uld t0tally laugh.
TA: 0kay, tr0ll shakespeare, explain t0 me in y0ur 0wn disj0inted sentence fragments why y0u refuse t0 believe y0u're n0t terminal.
CG: JOHN IS PLAYING PRETEND MOIRAIL.
CG: VERY CONVINCINGLY.
TA: that's... kind 0f n0t 0kay.
CG: NO, IT'S FINE. I KNOW IT CAN'T BE REAL BUT.
CG: HE'S GOOD AT IT.
TA: KK, humans 0nly have 0ne quadrant.
CG: I KNOW I KNOW SHUT UP
CG: YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?
CG: I'M NOT PALE FOR HIM EITHER, BUT WHEN I'M THIS WEAK AND HELPLESS
CG: HE REALLY DOES PITY ME, AND I KNOW HUMAN PITY'S NOT ROMANTIC AND HE KNOWS I KNOW SO
CG: WHY ELSE WOULD HE CUDDLE ME AND BRING ME THINGS AND KISS MY CHEEK EXCEPT TO MAKE MY LAST NIGHTS LESS LONELY?
CG: EVEN HE WOULDN'T DO THIS AS A PRANK.
TA: KK, listen t0 me. this is imp0rtant inf0rmation, and i need y0u t0 shake 0ff the medicinal haze and pay cl0se attenti0n:
TA: humans
TA: 0nly
TA: have
TA: 0ne
TA: quadrant.
TA: you criminally 0blivious, r0mantically retarded wankstain.
CG: BUT HE
CG: BUT IF
CG: OH
CG: OH WOW.
TA: g00d, well d0ne. picture, if y0u will, my measured applause.
TA: n0w w0uld y0u g00gle tr0ll influenza already and quit flipping y0ur shit?
TA: and hey, while y0u've g0t the wind0w 0pen, try l00king up 'h0w t0 tell if s0me0ne is pale f0r me in real life where r0mantic pr0spects aren't designated by c0nvenient rains 0f fl0wer petals and swelling sappy music like they are in my m0r0nic m0vies.'
TA: assh0le.
- twinArmageddons [TA] has ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist -
John comes in with the refilled reservoir of the new humidifier, and snickers at your face. "Did you read something shocking, or are you just mouth-breathing because your nose is stuffed up? I can't tell."
"I think," you begin, and trail off. You frown at the phone, no longer sure you understand anything at all.
There's a glugging as he fits the reservoir into place. He flicks it on, and the comforting hiss of steam resumes. He went out and bought the contraption yesterday while you were sleeping. He's always awake when you are, too. He claims to have been taking naps, but his eyes look bruisy with fatigue. That's a long way to go for faking pale. But for a real human single-quadrant romance... you don't know. You just don't know.
"You think?" he prompts.
"I think Sollux is pale for me."
John beams. "It's about time!"
It's hard to swallow, and only partly because your throat hurts. "And um. He pointed something out to me. You... I thought..." You don't know how to phrase this, and your thinksponge is too saturated with mucus and Green Death to function properly.
John sits on the edge of the bed and hands you the glass of orange juice from the bedside table. "Yes?" he says encouragingly when you give it back.
"He reminded me humans only have one quadrant." You force it out in a rush, then glare at him, daring him to even try to bullshit you.
He looks surprised, and for a moment you think he's going to play innocent. But what he says is, "Did you forget?"
"No, but. The way you." You grimace, holding back another cough until you can talk without letting it out. "You shooshed me. You calmed me down and."
His surprise is fading into worry with a twist of hurt. "I wasn't trying to copy troll romance. Oh shit. Now I feel like a huge jerk."
"No, I." Wow, Karkat, way to make everything terrible. "I thought you were kind of. Trying to. to. So I could die happy."
John throws his hands up with a growl of exasperation and a huge eyeroll. He snatches your phone from your unresisting hand, types furiously for a minute, and shoves it back at you.
You struggle to focus on the web page he brought up. 'Influenza in trolls' is the title. You take the phone. You read.
You feel like a moron.
"It says it's more serious for us," you say defensively as you toss the phone aside. "More likely to be fatal than in humans."
"In very young or old trolls, or if they have a weak immune system!" he shouts. "Or if left untreated! Karkat, if people were cars you'd be a fucking Abrams tank! You're the unstoppable force and the immovable object rolled into one! If you were any tougher you'd be bulletproof! And I've been taking really good care of you, too, and if you got worse I'd know the signs, I've done so much research, I'd know if you needed the emergency room and I put the fastest local cab company in my phone and I've been carrying taxi money at all times just in case and Jesus fuck, Karkat, do you honestly think I'd let you die?"
You gape. John is on the verge of tears. You've never seen him like this. He's really put that much effort into looking out for you? He's really that sure you'll be okay? He's been so affectionate just because he felt like it?
Something in your chest swells, unfurls, as if your heart has been cramped in a cocoon all this time, and it's only now emerging. Oh shit, you pity the fuck out of him.
And it's okay that it's not pale, because the only quadrant humans have is the red one.
"I'm sorry," you say hoarsely. "I'm just not used to. You know." You gesture at the humidifier, as if it can stand in for all the care no one ever gave you.
"I know," John says.
He reaches for your face, slowly, giving you time to stop him. You catch his hand and pull, reel him down by it, half sit up to meet him.
Feverish as you are, his lips feel chilly. It's weird and sublime. When you start shaking from holding yourself up, he follows you down to the pillow and keeps kissing you, little soft kisses with pauses between so you can breathe, because your nose is stuffed up. It's not dignified or pretty or like any kind of movie kiss you've ever seen, but you find you don't mind at all. Eventually you're too tired even for that; then you just lie side by side looking at each other, trading giddy, disbelieving grins.
"They really don't taste like cherry, do they?" he says.
"They taste like gasoline, John. And I will forever associate that flavor with you being inexplicably wonderful to me, and I'll probably develop a taste for the damn things. Thanks a lot."
"Well, they are red," he points out.
"Did you do that on purpose? Was it a hint? John, you ass, did you do that shit on purpose -- stop laughing, you goon." But you're laughing too. It makes you cough, and you don't even care.
- end -