I wanted some insane Sober!Gamzee in my life. Add in my Love for Gamzee Karkat and you get this.

Short Drabble

When the electric green haze was lifted from his eyes like the soft veil above a large stage of lies, Gamzee knew that his mind was rotting. Had been rotting, currently was. Sopor slime does wicked things to a troll's head, and it was a terrifying moment indeed when the purple-blooded boy realized that severity of his situation. Even though it seemed like it occurred so long ago, floating on the memory of a nightmare suffered at some indiscernible point in the past, it was still beyond what simple 'pap's and 'shoosh's could do to prevent the memories from resurfacing.

Sometimes, Gamzee was afraid of them. Of the thoughts and the ideas, the gears spinning and splitting a nasty grind in his ear. It was nothing less than a miracle that brought the wonders of the pale quadrant to him, a wave of soothing sounds and foreign but welcome flames to combat the ice creeping through his consciousness. Gamzee was pretty sure that Karkat was the best thing to happen to him. And he really did feel for his bro, so much through his now twisted emotions. But he still couldn't help thinking that something wasn't right, or that something was broken, or that something was rotten now.

He looks and he listens. The new motherfucking paradise planet was a lot different than Alternia, and it took a while of adjusting to realize just how good this Earth could be to a troll. Karkat is angry as always, and always going on and on about something with a string of imaginative insults and a slurry of 'fuck's and 'damn's. It's one of those times where his moirail can no longer stand to be around the pink human and decides to stick with the Capricorn idiot he calls his best friend. Gamzee is trying to chill, wanting to enjoy just being with his bro. But the pain hits him, and like a shock to the think pan he's cowering over his own head and horns like there's nothing else to be done. Essentially, there isn't.

His nubby horned friend is right by his side, freaking the fuck out and wondering what he should do. What he should say. Just what. Soon there is a meltdown of soft touches and whispers, as Karkat is awkwardly embracing the clown. Gamzee is in the middle of an array of colors; the metallic twinge of rainbow blood, dancing around his head. The Dark Carnival brother. The Motherfucking Dark Carnival. The taller troll is squirming and trembling, putting forth so many efforts to suppress the distorted voice and the beautifully macabre paintings.

Something is broken and hurting and bleeding now. Gamzee no longer tries to imagine that because he suddenly has his arms wrapped around his moirail, holding the smaller body as if it were a frail thing to be crushed. Karkat hums slowly, worriedly, and breathes a sigh of relief when the highblood calms back into a normal, alert and lethargic stupor.

"Fuck, Gamzee..."

Karkat breathed, relaxed into his friend's chest, and continued to hold him. Gamzee knew that Karkat had to be the best thing for him. No electrifying green pie could ever account for the soft, warm feel of the troll next to him. He never wanted Karkat to worry, didn't want him to give that frantic expression again. There was something rotting, and they both knew it-and Gamzee promised once again to never let it get him again.