Chapter Text
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are beyond belief right now.
You're currently standing a mere foot or two away from the one man you thought you had lost forever. However, you never imagined in a million years that you would find him like this, curled up on the ground in a mess of tears. And all you can do is stand there frozen in place. Maybe you should start from the beginning.
~~ Two years ago ~~
"Jesus Christ, how long does it take for John to walk here," you think to yourself annoyed. After all, you had called him over ten minutes ago, around 9pm, and the walk back over here only takes five minutes or so. You really hope he gets home soon, dinner was going to get cold pretty soon.
*9:30pm*
"What the fuck, like, seriously. Where the fuck is John? It doesn't take this long to get back from the shop," you huff. This is fucking ridiculous. You wrap up dinner and put the leftovers in the fridge. You are going to rip him a new one when he gets home.
*10:15pm*
“John? Where the hell are you? Did something happen at the shop? Call me back, bye.”
*11:00pm*
“Hey, Vris. Yeah, I know its been a while, I’m sure we’ll hang out soon. No, no, not this weekend, but we’ll figure something out. Anyways, is John with you? I called him a while ago and he said he was on his way home, but he hasn’t gotten here yet. No? Yeah, okay, I’ll keep calling him. Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you later. Yep, bye.”
*11:27pm*
“John, you’re seriously starting to worry me here. Look, if you’re mad at me or something could you just tell me? We can talk it out and everything, I swear. Just...please call me back. I love you.”
*1:45am*
“911, what is your name and emergency?”
“Hello, yes, please, my name is Karkat Vantas and I need help.”
“What seems to be the problem, sir?”
“I think something happened to my boyfriend. I called him hours ago, when he said he was on his way home from work but he still isn’t back yet. He wouldn’t just skip out on me or anything, and we always call if something else came up. Please, I think something’s wrong. I think someone might’ve taken him.”
“Alright, sir, what is your boyfriend’s name?”
“John, John Egbert. Please, you have to help me.”
“I’m searching your databases, Mr. Vantas, but I’m not finding anyone under that name right now aside from normal, non emergency information. Are you sure he didn’t just go to a bar or somewhere else?”
“No, you don’t understand, he’s gone. Someone took him. Please, you have to help me.”
~~ A year and a half ago ~~
You are still Karkat Vantas and things are getting harder. It’s been six months since John disappeared and you have had no luck finding him. Vriska blames herself for making him close up that night, but you don’t blames her, not really.
You really just blame yourself.
Ever since that night, you’ve done everything to try to help find him again. You drove to the police station immediately once they opened that day and filed a missing persons report. After that, you started calling everyone. And when you say everyone, you mean it. You called countless friends, family and coworkers, asking all of them if they heard from or had seen John. They all put forth their best efforts to look for John, spending countless hours searching for him. Except it just wasn’t enough.
No matter what you all did- hang posters, make TV announcements, questioned previous pedophiles, drive around town screaming his name- it didn’t work. It just didn’t work.
And it’s fucking destroying you.
Although many people think that you’re going overboard, you swear you’re not. Even if you’re lucky if you get three hours of sleep at any given point of the day. Or if you usually need to be reminded to eat something. Or if having fun is foreign to you now. You’re fine. You have to be. For John.
~~ 1 year ago ~~
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Vantas,” spoke the detective, “but the likelihood of Mr. Egbert surviving this long is slim to none. I think that it’s time to consider that fact that we may just be searching for a body now.”
No. This is literally not possible for you right now. You cannot think of John like this, you just can’t. You honestly don’t think you could bare it if John died, you have to think of him as alive and waiting to be rescued. Because if he died, then you’re convinced that you would die too.
*Three months later*
“Today’s top story, the hunt for John Egbert is no longer a rescue mission, but a body search instead. Mr. Egbert’s partner, Karkat Vantas, released a statement this morning, saying, ‘Please, please just give him back to me and his family. We deserve that much’. The poor man had to be pulled away by a small group of grieving friends, all asking that the request Mr. Vantas made possible. If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of John Egbert’s body may be, please call 1-800-525-6182.”
‘Well,’ you think, ‘I guess he really is gone.’ You’re eyes are puffy from crying all day, still greatly upset from the most recent news report. It hurts, it really does.
You sit up from lying on your couch all day and look to see what you laid out on the coffee table. Two bottles of vodka, a pill bottle full of antidepressants you found from high school, and a razor blade. You unscrew the first bottle of vodka and pop open the pill bottle. Pouring a small handful of them out, you glare at the pills as though they personally insulted your mother. You open your mouth and toss the pills in, taking a swig of vodka to wash them down. you repeat the process until you run out of pills and just start slamming vodka. You don’t notice the razor blade until you’re halfway through the second bottle, but when you do you don’t hesitate to roll up your sleeves and rake it across your skin. You give it a sad smile when you see the blood well up and spill out of the cut. You continue cutting away at your skin until the blood made the blade fall from your fingers and land on you carpet.
‘At least I’ll be with you again, John. I’ll always, always love you.’
~~ Present day ~~
You shudder thinking about those last moments. After you woke up in the hospital a few days later, you vowed to get help. You swore to your friends that even though John wasn’t here, you would be. They didn’t deserve to lose another friend. But back to more pressing matters.
Like the fact that John is screaming and crying while Dave is trying to calm him down.
“John, please, your safe buddy, I swear. It’s just Karkat, he wouldn’t dare hurt you,” you hear Dave tell him. You somehow find it in yourself to move, albeit slowly, to where the other two are situated. Dave continues to try to sooth John, but it was having little effect. You kneel down next to Dave and put your hand down next to John’s bare clad foot. He recoiled, tucking himself away even smaller into the corner.
“John,” you whisper, removing your hand from his personal space and resting it in your lap. “John, please, it’s just me.” You try really hard not to dwell on his eyes. The once beautiful eyes you could stare into for hours are filled with fear and anxiety. You zone out for a moment, until you realize that John was actually talking. To whom, you’re not really sure.
“What? Can you please repeat that,” you hear Dave ask in a hushed tone, probably trying not to spook John. John whimpered a few more times before quietly speaking.
“Don’t hurt me. Please no more. I’ll be a good boy, I promise. Don’t hurt me, Daddy. Don’t hurt me Karkat. I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good boy, I’llbeagoodboyI’llbeagoodboyI’llbeagoodboy…”
John repeat the phrase over and over until he dissolves into tears once more. You look at Dave as he looks at you in utter disbelief. You could imagine that you were both thinking the same thing.
Fuck.