johnkat + regret

John is a different person in the cold truth of white-blue morning light, Karkat thinks. No longer caught in an unknown sway, grin wild and bucktoothed and voice bubbling over with overbearing laughs and eyes too bright to be sober.

John has been stirring the black coffee in front of him for roughly five minutes. Karkat didn’t have anything to offer him to sweeten it.

“I have a girlfriend,” John says. It’s all he says. It’s the only thing he’s said since he woke up.

“You also have a hickey,” Karkat offers in curt response. He’s frowning too, now. They’re both strained—a perfect mirror to their night prior.

“I should go,” John says, and stands, and leaves.