Just like that, without a note. Your matesprit left. Of course you would notice. It is the first thing you would notice obviously and it left first a bitter taste in your mouth. You see the message from Dirk and answer before closing your husktop and hold your head, elbows on your knees. Not a single tear is coming even if you do want to cry your heart out.
Are you surprised? Maybe a little. Is it surprising? Not in the least. Hell, the only relation you manage to keep for long are kismessitude, that tells a bit about you. You know Equius is not to blame and that you are one shitty matesprit. Not even one bit of you is pitiable. You are an hemoist bastard, rash and boorish most of the time, why would you even get pity from anyone?
The only persons you’ve ever pitied yourself never returned your feelings or didn’t lasts long. Your first flushcrush rejected you and you had to see him frequently anyway, faking friendship even though you never forgot about your feelings. Equius went and made you forgot about them, pitying him for he was devoted and kind toward you. He probably grew bored of you and left. Same thing happened to your descendant. Who’s next ? Helios? Sollux? Even if you do not pity them, they are near of you and you appreciate them.
At this point, what does it matter if you finish all alone, old and only filled with hateful relationship…That’s better than nothing right?
Tears finally managed to prick at the corner of your eyes and you get a hold of the rum bottle, gulping down half of it in one go. You empty it in a second one, feeling the numbness reach to you. In an rage moment, you throw the empty bottle at the wall, bursting it to bits and shattering glass everywhere on your floor before letting you fall down, breaking.
Curling on yourself, you cry.
The mighty seadweller have fallen.
….Wonderful. He walks into the room they unofficially shared (it’s not like he went anywhere else) only to find a puddle of seadweller sobbing into a bottle. As fun as a drunk and rejected Dualscar sounds, something needed to be done about this. With a silent sigh, he slowly pads over to the prone form, making sure not to make a sound. Slowly, carefully, he takes the bottle away from the immobile troll, and sets it atop the bureau. He can’t pick the much larger troll up to physically place him on the bed, so he tries to make the floor as comfortable as possible. He places a few pillows around him, forming a sort of nest, and sets a few more aside. Once done, he stands awkwardly until a soft shudder overtakes the prone troll and with another sigh he kneels next to him, taking one cold hand in his own and stroking it while clicking softly in concern.