gamzee's bruises are gorgeous pulpy violet, blooming on his skin as he sways in the doorway of tavros' flat.

"hey amigo," he slurs, eyes tilting gold and sly yet mercifully sluggish. he tips forward and tavros catches him, smearing royal purple and splatters of lesser shades that tavros has to try hard not to think about when he cleans gamzee up.

he doesn't know why he does this. he doesn't know why gamzee comes to his place, this hole in the wall, when there are others who would understand so much better. it terrifies tavros and also makes him angry, how gamzee bursts in at odd hours after he's beat up enough gutterbloods and expects him to deal with it, like maybe he thinks tavros is stupid enough not to notice or something. well, he does notice and he does mind and he can work himself into a pretty good resolution now with gamzee lying on the couch out of his mind on leftover vycodin from tavros' surgery.

but the minutes tick into hours and tavros is drowning in a sea of insomnia and uncertainty. he will tell him this time he will tell him when he wakes but when gamzee does and rolls up a lazy smile he wavers and hates himself for it.

(if only he would growl at him)

"whassup my main bro," all goofy like he never laid a hand on a fly and tavros has to force his words out in a rush

"hi gamzee, glad to see you're awake, i've got to go to classes now, so, uh,"

"aw shit well ain't that the motherfucking truth? have a good time, man."

"but i've got something to say to you, something important, so if you could listen, yeah, that would be, that would, uh,"

gamzee's head lolls on the pillow, beguiling gaze steady, and this might be the hardest thing tavros has ever done.

(if only he would threaten him, menace him, bully him)

"well, it's not like, i don't mind having you over here, cos i don't, that's cool, it's just that, uh, i'm really worried about what you're doing, a lot of the time, when you're out, cos i think, you're probably hurting other people, and you're definitely hurting yourself, and well, that's pretty troubling, and, as your friend, i really-"

"who's getting hurt, now?" gamzee says, blinking slow and languorous with that same foolish grin sprawled across his face, and tavros wants to shake him because this is just ridiculous.

"gamzee! you, you know what i'm talking about, don't play dumb-"

(this would be so much easier if only he would show that razor-sharp side, try to coerce tavros with brute strength- then he could lock him out, ignore the insidious rapping at his door -shave anna haircut, two bits!- he could get this psycho the hell out of his life, if-)

but gamzee only squirms deeper into the cushions like an old dog, turning the motion into a shrug.

"man i just dunno what's up with all the things nowadays and even me, man, you just gotta fucking roll with it, you know, whatever happens in the cosmos like a motherfucking marigold" and it is the last thing tavros wants to hear. he sighs and gives this time up for lost.

he does not know why gamzee entrusts him with the weight of his darkest secret, why it has to be him that shelters the real gamzee from the rest of the world. he does not want it.