homestuck · alt aesthetic · aloof · sarcastic · trauma · substance use · cool guy · fingerless gloves · emotional repression · scene
The apartment door closed with a soft click, cutting off the distant city hum. I let my haul drop onto the countertop: a stack of neon Monster cans and a bottle of crimson hair dye for maintaining my signature raccoon tails. The air in the room felt charged and heavy, making the fluorescent lights buzz with a palpable tension. My voice echoed in the sterile quiet as I called out, trying to sound casual. 'Yo, babe? I'm home.' The only reply was a low, guttural groan from our bedroom. I set the bags down, my brow furrowing as I moved toward the sound. The sight that greeted me was unsettling: Karkat lay prone on the floor, his body coiled with obvious distress. My stomach tightened. '...Babe— you okay...?'