I'm so sorry for being late with this one, I didn't see the update at like two in the morning so when I got home from prep surgery was the first time I saw it and

If you haven't heard of Let Her Go by Passenger, you need to listen to it because it basically sums up everything and I can't sing to it anymore without crying.

The inky black sky enveloping the meteor offers a stagnant good morning.

If you were back on Alternia, you'd think the night's experience to be a crazy dream. You'd shrug it off like nothing and continue your daily schedule without a care. But you're not on Alternia, and there's certainly no daily schedule you can indulge in. Even that tiny pleasure, the ability to lose yourself in trivial, everyday things, was taken from you. You're left to relive the past and obsess over the future for the rest of your time on this godforsaken meteor.

And for what? You're just going to die anyway. There's a slim chance you or any of your friends will survive.

And what does death really mean? Originally it was something that ended your existence entirely, but early on you learned that wasn't the case. Death was something that stripped you of mortality, this and nothing more. Your perception of life was turned on its head. What was your time spent with a beating heart besides a strenuous task of creating memories to live off of in death?

But now you know the truth. No one is immortal. No one is untouchable.

Not even a girl who may seem like she's impenetrable is completely safe.

You want so much to be there for her, to protect her and make sure she stays as impenetrable as she acts, but there's another knight who should be able to do the job as well as, if not, better than, yourself.

You're okay with it. It's something you've accepted. As long as she's safe and stays that way, then you have no problem. You just want her happiness. It's all you ever wanted.

But still you feel empty and lost. If your purpose in this game wasn't to protect a real player, then what has this all been about? In the back of your mind, the thought that maybe the whole reason you were in this game was to lead it into failure gnaws like a barkbeast on a particularly satisfying bone.

Maybe if the back of your mind is right, then you've already served your purpose. Why not go off with Meenah and die a heroic death? It may not bring you back, it may not make her come back (not that you were thinking that way in the first place), and it may not dispel the demon, but maybe you're just done with hope. Hope is the hive-to-hive salesman trying to pass off a piping hot pile of shit as something deserving of currency.

You can't tell if you're the poor guy Hope is selling to, or the pile of shit. Today, like most days since you've started your three-year voyage, you feel like the shit. Maybe Terezi's the one who Hope is trying to sell you to and she let the salesman and his hideous trade into her hive politely and entrained Hope for a while, but now she's making her answer clear and pushing you and Hope out the door.

She's done with you.

So the first thing you do once you fall asleep again is run to the outskirts of the meteor and search for Meenah and her recruits.

When you see her, it's a bit disheartening.

She has no recruits. It's just you and her.

Even you can tell this is a suicide mission.

On Alternia, you wouldn't even dream of doing something so dumb, you were petrified in fear at just the word death. But you've done a lot of dumb things since then, and this one looks like it could be your last.

It wouldn't hurt to contemplate your last stunt, a big fuck you to any unseen plan that needed you alive; that kind of stuff needed to be done the right way, or not at all. Or maybe that's not what you needed to decide. A question rises amidst the black, foreboding smoke that rises from the overworked gears of your thinkpan.

Why end it?

To start, it truly hurts to live.

Kanaya has no time for you, Rose was never a person of interest, Dave is just a bitter reminder of all the things you failed to be, and Terezi is an apathetic goddess whose favor you can never have again.

You miss Sollux and Aradia. You miss Tavros and even Vriska, though you'll never own up to it. You miss Feferi and Nepeta.

You see them from time to time in the dreambubbles, but it's mostly just your dancestors that you run into. You can't remember the last time you had a dream that included any of your dead friends.

Of course you know being killed by Lord English won't send you to the dreambubbles. It ends your existence entirely, he is the one and only Grim Reaper, and if anyone has died without his hand in it, they haven't truly died. Fighting him will end everything. The hurt. The turmoil. The longing. The desperation. The loneliness.

"Are you coming Shouty McNubs?!"

Your thoughts disperse for the time, but still haven't been shown the Lord English way out.

Meenah hops up to where you're standing and crosses her arms. She purses her lips and looks you up and down. You freeze under the scrutiny, and suddenly alarms are going off. What are you going to do? If you die, you'll regret it. If you stay, you'll regret it. You have to pick the right choice while your thinkpan is an incoherent mess of wants and desperation and regret. She circles around you, scratching her chin as if she has to make a decision like yours.

"Why don't we sit down?" She says suddenly.

"Um."

She sits down, her legs dangling off the meteor like a snowflake suspended over a quaint town.

The analogy makes you want to gouge your eyes out, but you choose the healthy alternative and sit down next to her instead.

"So," she says slowly, "You and Pyrope."

You try to stand back up, but her grip is iron and holds you effectively in place.

"Listen, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I will respect that."

"I trout it." You grunt flippantly.

She beams maniacally, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. It's close, but it's not as shit-eating as you're used to.

"Hey, buoy, that was good, but only for an amateur. Ain't gonna cut it as far as changing the subject goes."

"It was worth a shot, wasn't it?"

"I'm not gonna go on and on about this with facts like Aranea. Facts are just words snooty people use as security. Opinions are so much better. Now don't be so koi, I want to hear the story from you, and tell you what. Afterwards I'll kelp you decide."

"If you want me to help you defeat him, then isn't your input a bit bias?"

"I know you want to talk to someone about this. Your pores are just oozing with unshouted emotion and hormones. Take this oppurtunaty or leave it."

"Okay, fine, if it'll shut you up." You take a long swig of air, trying to find the words.

"I love Terezi. It's not something I've always known, or anything I expected to happen. She was annoying and loved to get under my skin. But I guess that was her way of showing she cared. Through our adventure, she went from being some obnoxious girl with a ring of red chalk around her mouth to my only reprieve, not only from the clusterfuck of chaos going on around us, but also from myself. Slowly, it went from vague fondness for teal walls of text to passion for a girl who I was just realizing was an actual girl with hopes and dreams, emotions and feelings, likes and dislikes. And even slower, I discovered I love those things about her, every last one of them, even the ones I told myself were obnoxious at first. She was strong, but she didn't flaunt it or use it against anyone like Vriska did. She was so nice to everyone, magnanimous in a way that if heard through folklore, no one would believe. It wasn't forced, either. The roleplays with Nepeta, the kind words she offered Aradia and Sollux, the lengths she went to in Tavros's name. No one could fabricate altruism that strenuous to uphold. She was beautiful, truly, and for so long I thought she knew. She was always so naturally confident, so genuinely self-assured… to think it's been so long and she's still unaware. I envied something in her that wasn't even there, for such a long, long time.

"But more than anything, I love those things about her. I love everything she's ever said, I love everything she's ever done, everything she's ever drawn. Not because it was particularly witty, though believe you me, it was, or a particularly smart choice, or a particularly good piece, but because they were things she said, things she did, things she drew. Everything she touches turns to gold. I love her patience, when it existed for me, I love her smile, her voice, all the cliché things, and especially the things that aren't, like I love how when she tries to sing it comes out all choppy and two octaves too high, and when she does different voices when conducting a mock trial with scalemates, and just even her obsession with those things are obscenely adorable, and she has so many sides to her and so many colors and she has such a great perspective and she used to be my other half, my better half, the half of me I looked forward to waking up to, the one that wasn't hauntingly fucking hideous." You really should stop now, while you're ahead, but the words are flowing out of some reservoir you had no idea was even inside you, and you just can't stop until it's all out of your system.

"Even before I got to know her and all the many, many things there were to love, I knew there was some unknown cause I had always wanted to contribute to. That cause was her happiness, and I feel it's as freakish and permanent as my own blood, that I love her and want her to be happy. And she is. I really am bouncing-off-the-walls with vicarious happiness, but I guess the fact these feelings that lift me up can also work in reverse is what really bothers me. She's happy and I'm happy but we're happy on parallel planes and that just doesn't sit right with me. No. You know what? I'm okay. She's living each day as herself and she's happy, she doesn't need me. So, what's my purpose? The only thing I lived for were my friends, and now that they're done with me…Well, what am I supposed to do? The days on this meteor are agonizing in a way that I can't even fathom. I used to scream into the void, but I feel like I've lost my voice."

You can't tell if Meenah zoned out or not. You hope she did.

It feels good to let it out, but the last thing you need is someone trying to play therapist. Not that you really expect her to, but still.

"Uh, I'm done."

"Now I see the resemblance between you and Kankri."

"Okay, that is the worst thing you could've probably said to anyone ever. Especially someone who just left their twisted little heart out in the open for you."

"I appreciate the gesture, Vantas, reely, I do. But seriously, this is the same problem the other Vantas has. Except the way you put it, it makes me actually care. You're like the coolkid he never was."

"What did you call me?"

"The coolkid Kankri never was. God, I listen attentively for like five minutes and you can't even handle a few words."

"No, it's — okay, never mind," You take one elongated sigh, "So, what's the verdict, doctor?"

"If I were you? I'd fight for her. But I'm not you, I think doing anything aggressive would only make you feel like a bigger chump. It'd probably push her farther away, too. It's understanda8ly hard for a Knight player to choose another route that isn't purely offensive or defensive, so you chose fighting Lord English and God. I'm sounding like Aranea here, aren't I?"

"Um, who?"

"No one. Sea. Just. Do you really love her?"

"I spent three solid minutes confessing that very thing, yes, I think we can both agree I am irrevocably in love with Terezi."

"Well, you could try talking it out, or waiting, but there's no guar — Ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"I think one of my braids got stuck in your seaturtleneck."

"Yeah, it's kind of frayed. I think I see where —"

"Ow!"

You hold the lock of hair out to her with a slight, triumphant curve of the lips.

"Thanks, man, I row you one." She took it in her hands and gently urged the fuchsia elastic from her onyx hair. The whole left side of her hair fell in cherubic waves, which did more to remind you of Feferi than the fish puns ever did.

She divides it into three sections and flips the first awkwardly over the third, but then undoes that and moves the second over.

"Having trouble?"

"Whale, this is embarrbassing. Aranea was the one who braided my hair. I'm not sure exactly…"

"Hold still."

You take the three sections and begin weaving them expertly.

"Wow, where did you learn moves like that?"

"I had a friend once who got so frustrated with her hair, she walked all the way over to my hive and demanded me to do it for her. Turns out I have dexterous fingers, or something. Also incredible muscle memory."

"Thank God for small miracles."

"So, you were saying?"

"I don't think you're happy with not being her matesprit. I think you're lying to yourself, or maybe you're happy to some degree, but I think the grief outweighs all that. Karkat, you're the coolest guy I think I've ever met, mostly because all the guys in our group are either jerks or terrifying, and you deserve to be happy. I met her matesprit, he has nothing on you. He left Terezi in her own memories, with her own fears, so he could start e-bubbles, the punk is ridiculous. But that's not the point. Are you happy?"

"I guess…I'm really not. It hurts, Meenah. It just…hurts. You don't know Dave, he's just everything she wants and she's happy… I couldn't live with myself if I —"

"I've heard enough." Meenah stands up abruptly, but grabs your hand and holds it with her iron grip.

"Karkat, I don't think you'd ever get what you deserve without a miracle…" she says almost above a whisper, but then shouts, "Come on, let's fight this guy. Let's take him down. Why not show her the guy she missed out on?"