meet me at twilight

ix

Karl learned that the scent of fire without the smoke that lingered on Sapnap's flesh was from a crimson bottle of shampoo that held the sting. It made Karl's eyes burn slightly when he used it, but he enjoyed the feeling. He hadn't asked Sapnap to grab his shampoo back at the apartment that held Rhett's pulsing rage, so he lathered that not-quite-cinnamon product and let it wash his sins down the drain. At least, he hoped that's how it worked.

The boy almost jumped out of his skin when he looked in the mirror of that tiny bathroom after shutting off pipe-driven precipitation and playing with the black shower curtain between the pads of his fingers. Karl had gotten close to forgetting his hair was blushing neon, twisting a bundle of strands as a nervous tick. Maybe, again only maybe, Karl used the raging red towel to stake another claim.

When he stood with only his chest nude, Karl's hand licked against the sweater Sapnap had picked from his collection. Pastel pink cuffs clashed a bit with Karl's hair, but he knew Sapnap's vision hadn't been hinted with fairy floss when he picked out the ardent orange, muted bubblegum sweater. Karl pulled it over his head, enjoying the warmth that came from stuffy steam and the thick material against his skin. Bruises, mellow pink that bled into calm amethyst, made splotches against the skin on the boy's hips, the shape of fingernails and prints. Karl didn't mind it one bit.

The door creaked a bit when Karl opened it, striding out from the bathroom and glancing under the transom to the bedroom. Sapnap was still asleep, though he was tossing a bit to prove his body and brain had reconnected after the wiring had been tattered by Karl. Flicking back down the hallway, Karl grabbed socks from the backpack still by the door, the one Sapnap had retrieved and earned mottled bruises on his stomach and a bit of swelling on his jaw for. Black and white socks on, a weird feeling bloomed in Karl's gut when he looked at the foot of the couch, Karl rummaged through drawers in the kitchen- as if Karl knew what he was even looking for, as if he knew how to find it.

Hands shaking, jealousy sizzling, pink hair idle on his head, Karl pulled out a black Sharpie. He held it up, debated its use, and committed. Karl devoted himself when he went back to that living room, pulled the cap off the Sharpie with his teeth, and did something he'd refuse to brag about but would willingly speak of.

With his action done, Karl snagged his rollerblades, realized the skate leash was still attached to them, and left that apartment with the key in his pocket and rollerblades strung on his shoulder. Suspension missed him, and frankly, he missed Suspension, too.

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Sapnap's mind was infected and plagued with ink and smoke. He couldn't get comfortable on the bed but didn't have the energy to open his eyelids. Pretending and trying to sleep was the better option. Ghouls wouldn't leave him alone, glittering phantoms sneering with all they had. Dream and George brought wrath, brought tears, brought ache. Sapnap wanted to present his heart, tear it from his chest and hand it to the airy apparitions. They couldn't take it and howled when things didn't go the way they wanted.

Visions came of betrayed boyfriends that demanded his heart, still beating and pulsing with crimson blood inside it. Sapnap's hand splayed across his chest, continuously trying to dip below his skin to give them that sacrosanct organ. It never worked.

Every single time, Dream and George would pull on their hearts with ease, present it to Sapnap and wait for him to offer up his own. When it never came, they sneered or sobbed or screeched or wailed or went completely mute before trading hearts with each other. They always took the other boy's with warm grins, established it within their own chests, and left Sapnap knelt on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest mourning, crying, keening because he couldn't give them what he wanted to, because they didn't care enough to stay long enough for him to figure out how to copy their actions.