I recommend listening to How the Day Met the Night by Panic! at the Disco while you read. It's what I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this story.

The events of the past couple of years came rushing back to him. It had been months and months and months and months since what him and Karkat called "the accident", even though the definition of what actually happened is so far from an accident that Webster's corpse is getting fucked in the mouth as we speak. Accidents happen on a whim; they're not planned or known; accidents can't make people miserable eons before they happen; accidents are bliss, and illnesses are twisting the knife.

Gamzee hadn't visited his grave much in those months- maybe two or three times. He didn't regret not visiting Tavros's grave, never had, never would. He left the thought of Tavros ever coming back, ever existing beyond Gamzee's imagination far behind him, back at the funeral service when he stormed out of that room, back with all of those assholes who called themselves friends and family.
Contrary to popular prediction, he'd been eating well, staying healthy. There was no reason for this except for the fact that Karkat had been constantly reminding him that staying healthy is what Tavros would have wanted, and Karkat knew that would be enough to keep Gamzee moving, alive, okay.

Karkat rapped on the white door with loose fist, grumbling a firm, "Gamzee, I'm leaving. There's leftovers in the fridge." When there was no reply, Karkat looked down at his wrist; it was 12 pm. "Are you even awake in there?" he called again. He heard a quiet groaning sound and someone shifting around in blankets. Sighing, he turned to leave, shouting louder than necessary, "Get off your ass today and get some commissions done. Sleeping and moping around like the clusterfuck of a clown you are doesn't pay the bills, you know."
As Karkat was opening the front door to leave, he barely heard Gamzee shout, "Kar, today is the day." His eyes widened a little bit.
"It is?" he whispered. He turned back to the bedroom door, clown poster with a big, painted, purple :o) on it. "Good luck. I'll get off work early then."

Then Gamzee heard the apartment door shut, and he rolled over to look at the ceiling. The lights were off, the room dim from the sunlight shining through the windows. He turned his head to look at the suit and tie hanging on his closet door, slightly grinning, then suddenly bursting out into gut-busting laughter. He clutched his stomach, rolling on his side into a ball. Wiping a single tear from his eye and calming down, Gamzee pushed himself into the position of sitting on the side of his bed, hands on both sides of him. He furrowed his eyebrows together with a sappy smile and hauled himself to his feet with a groan.

Later, he stood in front of his mirror and adjusted his dumb purple tie, looking kind of goofy with his hair combed and gelled to look nice. He took a deep breath and a long look at himself, unable to avoid wondering what Tavros would think of him right now, absent of make-up, chubbier than he's ever been in his life, bags under his eyes. Gamzee swung his head to look at his alarm clock, checking the time. It was a little before 1:00, so he still had time to work on a couple of commissions before he had to head out.

A couple of months ago, Karkat had talked him into selling his artwork on the Internet, and by artwork he meant his weird paintings of bloody clowns. His main customers were usually those obsessed with the rap duo ICP and haunted house managers, and he made a steady income off of it. He was content with his job, despite the fact that the orders for paintings could get a little weird sometimes, and that's a little weird by his standards. If Karkat saw some of the shit Gamzee had painted for especially... odd... customers, he wouldn't be able to sleep for weeks. Shit's disturbing, yo.

At 2:00, Gamzee was on the bus with a cowlick messing up his business look and a lurking anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He looked around nervously, feeling naked without his make-up and jumpy because of his excitement. He kept glancing out the window, tapping his feet, getting impatient. Finally, it was his stop, and he ran off the vehicle with a smile on his face and a heartbeat out of this world. He didn't stop running, and he ran all the way to Baker Street, where he stopped at a house and rang the doorbell one too many times.

He heard a cranky voice yell, "I'm fuckin' coming. Hold on a minute, would you?" Gamzee's eyes lit up, and he laughed. An old woman opened the door, and her wicked face melted into a sympathetic yet friendly smile, "Gamzee. Good to see you."

"Is he here? He's here, isn't he?" Gamzee asked, nearly bouncing up and down.

The old woman laughed, "Calm down, would you? Yes, he's here. He got here about a hour ago." She paused and took his hand. "Come on in, then."

Gamzee looked ready to cry when he was led into the house. The lady left him by some couches in the living room, stating she was going to go get him, please sit. However, Gamzee stood there, looking after where she vanished up the stairs. He balanced on his toes and then on his heels, rocking back and forth for what seemed like forever, impatiently looking at his watch from time to time.

Minutes later, Gamzee heard little footsteps running around upstairs excitedly, and his heartbeat increased. This was the moment. This is what he had worked so hard for for the past couple of months. This was it.

Suddenly, a little boy's head peeked around the corner at the top of the stairs, and before Gamzee knew it, the boy was running at him with a smile. Gamzee's heart stopped, and he opened his arms, embracing the little boy and picking him up, closing his eyes and whispering, "Finally. Finally."

Then, the little boy was tapping on his back and saying, "Gamzee, you can put me down now." Gamzee opened his eyes, sniffling out a, "Right. Yeah." When had he started crying? He put the child down gently and wiped at his own eyes, muttering a very quiet curse word under his breath.

He looked up from the little boy and at the teenage girl who stood before him who was rubbing her shoulder and staring at the two of them with a longing and sadness. Gamzee shook his head, the slip-n-slide that was his face starting up again, and he walked toward her, hugging her closely. She buried her head in his chest and clung to his suit, listening to Gamzee thank her over and over. She could only smile and nod.
"We'll visit all the time. He'll have everything he could ever want. I'll make sure he does good in school, and he'll be happy. He'll always be happy. I promise. I promise," Gamzee thanked her over and over.

She pushed herself from him and smiled at him, wiping her own eyes. "I should be thanking you," she whispered.

"No need. You never have to thank me, not after you've given me my everything back again, sister." The two started with the waterworks again, clinging to each other.

"Okay. Okay. Enough with the crying already," the old lady stated, breaking up the heartwarming scene, "Don't you two have somewhere you need to be right now?" She clicked her nail against the glass of her watch and arched her eyebrows.

"Right!" Gamzee sniffled, wiping his eyes for the final time, taking the little boy's hand.

He looked up at Gamzee and tilted his head slightly, "Where's mama Karkat?"

Gamzee chuckled and started putting the little boy's coat on for him. "He's at work right now. He'll meet us there; don't worry." The boy nodded and followed Gamzee out the door. He went on ahead to stand on the sidewalk, watching as Gamzee stood in the doorway, giving final hugs and thanks and then waving good-bye. He jogged up the driveway to the sidewalk to meet the boy. "You ready, brother?" The boy nodded, and they started walking, hand in hand.

"This is it," Gamzee stated, looking down at the ground where the stone and plaque rested.

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

The plaque read: Tavros Nitram.

"His name is close to mine," the little boy never peeled his eyes away from the grave. He then proceeded to sound out Travis and Tavros a couple of times before smiling, "What a co-winky-dink."

Gamzee laughed and tightened his grip on Travis's hand, "Sure is."

The two stood there, staring and whispering for quite some time. Then, they heard a voice behind them, one Gamzee usually never got the pleasure of hearing in a positive tone. "Are you ready to go home?" Karkat's voice sounded behind them.

Travis turned around first, running over to Karkat, yelling, "Mama Karkat!" to which Karkat replied with, "I told you, brat. Don't call me that. Do I look female to you?"

Karkat joined Gamzee's side, placing his hand on his shoulder with a sympathetic look. "You ready?"

Gamzee took a deep breath and turned around, "Yeah, brother. Let's kick it." They all three walked away from Tavros's grave and to Karkat's shitty excuse for a car, holding hands, Travis in the middle. "See you later, Tav."

And Travis was really cute and nice with average grades in school and a hatred for sports, partaking the interest of being a pilot one day, and he never did drugs, because he knew about how Tavros helped Gamzee get off of them and changed his life forever.

And Gamzee loved everything about his son, from the way that he snorted when he laughed to the way he was had a striking resemblance to his deceased love. He loved how Travis would post sticky notes everywhere with pictures of Rufio on them sometimes, and he loved how some of those drawings could be found on actual copy paper and shoved into his desk sometimes. He'd hang them up anywhere he could find, in his room, in Travis's room, on the fridge, etc.

If Gamzee had to make a list of all of the things that he loved about his son, the list would go on for infinity, and his right hand would probably disintegrate if he were to write it.

And that's all, folks! I'm really happy to finish this tbh, even if I did finish really slow. Thank you so much for all of your nice, wonderful, and helpful reviews as I wrote. It's all of you that inspired me to actually finish this.

And to those of you who were distraught about Tavros's death, I hope I came up with a good enough ending for you! It's kind of cliche, but this is a really cliche story, so...

Oh, and you all can expect a little one-shot from me in the next week or so. It's going to be all fluff and no angst, hopefully. We'll see. Stay tuned, and thank you again.