The Blood I Spill for You

I Don't Know What I'm Doing but It Seems To Be Working

"We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened to poor Whiskers, would we?" Dave imagined him saying. He would spit in his face, strike back. But he didn't do anything.

He saw Karkat behind him, eyes wide in real fear.

"It won't happen again, bro," Dave said.

Dirk let go, walking away like nothing had happened. "Pizza's on the way."

He rolled his shoulders angrily, not loosing eye contact until Dirk's bedroom door shut.

"Dave, I," he licked his lips. "I'm sorry."

The blond let out a sigh and rubbed his temple. "S'not your fault."

Panting turned to steady breaths and silence. Dave cleared his throat. "Why don't we skip the tour for now? I promise we'll do it later, he just needs to cool his jets."

Karkat twiddled his thumbs, "I don't think he likes me all that much."

"Don't take it personal. He doesn't like anyone."

Karkat turned to retreat upstairs but was stopped when Dave quickly opened the freezer. "Just grabbing an ice pack," he explained.

Curiosity nagged Karkat, but his shaky legs carried him upstairs before he had the chance to ask. They both sat on the floor, knowing Karkat's paranoia would prohibit the use of a chair or bed. Wordlessly, Dave scooted behind him and prodded one of the many bruises. Karkat hissed, then yelped when the ice pack touched his grey skin.

"Sorry Karkles, but that looks like it hurts like hell."

"It's fine," he argued back. Dave pressed his warm hand on the trolls warmer shoulder to steady him. His touch was gentle.

Karkat remained still, not daring to speak as the cold shifted to the side of his neck where the buckle of the tight collar sat. His whole neck was marked with a sickly blackish-red stripe from the constant yanking from the chain. Along the top of the bruise, a small cut was made, right under his jaw. It was infected.

"Karkles, do you mind if I get some rubbing alcohol for that gash?"

He was pretty sure he would never get used to Dave constantly asking him permission to do things, but he definitely didn't want him to stop. "As long as you quit calling me that."

Dave chuckled as he got the disinfectant from his nightstand; he used it more often that he would like to admit. Especially after a strife on a rough day.

"It might sting," he warned.

Karkat almost laughed out loud. "Please. I've had alcohol showers after ring fights. I'll be fine."

Dave felt something inside him snap. Was he being serious? Was that meant to be reassuring? Horrors flashed across his mind of things people could do to an alien child.

"Hello?"

"What? Oh, yeah. M'fine," he said. Taking an alcohol wipe out of the package, he lightly pressed it into the long, sharp cut. Karkat hissed, but refused to even flinch. Dave only found this unsettling. Padding down the cut, small bubbles started to form and disappear just as quickly.

"God, that stings," he mumbled so quietly Dave almost missed it. After a few minutes, he tossed the pink, bloody wipe into the trash.

"Karkat, are you hurt anywhere else?" Dave asked. Karkat shook his head quickly. "You know, you aren't a very good liar." The guilty party looked up, fearing some form of punishment. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just can't have you dying from infection, ok?"

Slowly, Karkat nodded and took of Dave's black shirt. Dave held back a gasp as he saw all the thin, white lines streaked across his chest. Black bruises were mottled all over his abdomen and ribs, surely still hurting. Three, thin claw marks with dried blood around them were on him arm, and from the looks of it, they were deep. Though thankfully they were almost healed.

"I know," Karkat said meekly. "They're awful."

Dave felt the guilt tear a hole in his chest. He thought of his own scars, calculated and multiple in the same places in comparison to the rough and jagged edges of Karkat's. "No, they're not."

"How can you say that?!" He leapt to his feet. "How can you look at them and not be reminded of how dusgusting you are? How worthless you are!" He blinked rapidly as he tried to stop the tears building up in his eyes. He trembled.

"No matter what, you will always be their fucking little play thing! They know they can do whatever the hell they want to you, even if it's tying you to a pole and beating you until the only thing you can feel is hurt! No punishment, just to be laughed at!"

Dave flinched. "Karkat..."

"Oh, but that's not enough is it? No, of course not! You couldn't resist seeing my freakish red blood, could you?! Why are humans so-" He stopped, looking Dave straight in the eyes. Guilty, red eyes.

Dave didn't even know what to do. There was nothing he could do.

"That's...that's in the past, now. Right?" Karkat asked, the whisper of words barely slipping off his trembling lips.
"I can't do it again anymore."

He pulled Karkat into a hug, and he hugged back, tears soaking into the shoulder of Dave's shirt. Comfort rippled through him with each steady circle rubbed into his back.

"I won't let anybody hurt you ever again," Dave whispered. "I promise." He felt the shy nod on his neck.

With Karkat all patched up, Dave decided the next course of action would be to buy him some of his own clothes. As cute as he was in his oversized T-shirts, he couldn't keep wearing them forever. Not cute, small. He looked small.

Karkat was all up for the idea, and handed him the leash. The discomfort weighed on both their faces, so Dave tucked it in his pocket with his hand, not actually holding it. They relaxed.

The walk was short, only 10 minutes, but Dave brought money for the bus  because the troll didn't have shoes. As they waited on the park bench, other people stared and gawked at Karkat for sitting on the bench instead of the grass beside his owner. He leaned forward to get on his hands and knees, but Dave insisted with a soft gaze that he stay where he is. His ears twitched downwards at all the unwanted attention, but he tried his best to shake it off.

The bus driver didn't spare then a glance, as trolls are welcome to sit on busses as long as they are leashed, watching carefully as Dave dropped the money into the bin.

Taking a seat, Karkat started out the window, eyes cast down to the grated metal floor, dusty and muddy.

The crowds of people on the busy streets that flew by the window unnerved him. The only time humans ever crowded him was when they planned on using him for their entertainment. Whatever they told him to do, he had to do it.

"I know," Dave said watching as the troll grimaced at the sight of so many people. "We won't be out long." Karkat nodded and waited for their stop.

Shopping for Karkat was not an easy task. Not used to making decisions, he was easily overwhelmed by all the choices he was now presented with. Eventually, Dave would hold up two shirts and he would choose the one he liked best. Then, he put the loser back and picked another until the winner has made it through 5 rounds. By the end of the shopping spree, Karkat had 4 t-shirts, 2 long sleeves, a tank top, a big, grey sweater, 3 pairs of dark blue jeans, 1 in black, sweatpants, socks, and a pair of black converse. Karkat was seriously lacking in style, so he stuck to the safety of black, grey and dark blue. All 4 T-shirts were exactly the same-solid black.

They stopped by the food court, and Karkat tried a Subway sandwich for the first time. He grinned and ate it eagerly, but still took time to savour each and every bite. Dave couldn't help but chuckle lightly at all the things he took for granted. Maybe Bro was right; maybe he did need a companion. After watching Karkat give a content sigh, tired out by all the walking around and trying on clothes, he knew there was no maybe.