Bee Affections

    Everything was silent, there was no sound in the air except for soft sobbing in the corner of a respiteblock. They were quiet cries, pleads. His knees were curled up to his chest, face buried in his crossed arms, body trembling and shaking. He heard the voices in his head. They were telling him to kill himself. To grab that knife just in reach of his hand and to just end it all now. He had killed AA. His matesprit. Aradia was gone because he had been so stupid as to let his mind honey into his pathetic worthless mouth. That's what he was; pathetic, worthless, such a failure among his troll society. Oh, how he wished that he had not snapped like that. He wished he had not eaten that honey. This would never be able to leave his mind: the red blood that had been dripping from Aradia's body from wounds all over her. When Karkat had come, he thought it would be best to get Aradia's body out and to let Sollux have some alone time to himself. That was such a bad mistake. Sollux felt the blade of the knife against the pad of one of his fingers. He winced slightly, glancing through his arms, through his yellow tears at his finger in which the knife had made contact. A small drip of yellow blood beaded at the surface and dripping onto the floor. He gritted his teeth, eyes clenching tightly close and a small whine let out from his throat. He had meant to keep it inside, but he couldn't help himself. Everyone he loved was dead. Aradia, Bicyclopsdad. The only one left was Karkat, his moirail, and he was not here right now because he thought that alone time would help him sort everything out. Alone time would keep the voices at bay. No. No, that was not true. The voices were louder than they had ever been. Sollux had let his facade down and now the voices seemed to be poking fun at him and saying the most awful things on which some days he would be strong and tell himself they were not true, but on a day like this. He listened to them. Listened to how awful of a troll he was and how he should be culled. How he should go out and kill. How he should do this and that and if he didn't then he mind as well kill himself. Sollux was not, however, as strong willed as everyone thought he was. The facade was strong when he was with his friends, although when he was left alone, like this. His friends and family dying like this, it was very hard to stay positive.
    He felt another soft cut of the blade in one of his fingers and he couldn't take it. Another soft, blubbering whine escaped his throat, filled with complete and utter sadness and yellow washed down his face. He lost it. Right then and there. He broke down, sobbing loudly screaming to himself insults and burns that were breaking him down. All the awful things that Sollux had thought of himself in his mind came out, in a great screaming voice. How much he hated himself, how much everyone would be relieved if he was just gone, that he should kill himself, die and get all this tragedy over with. He quickly brought up the knife, holding it close to his throat, sobs louder and that much more heartbreaking. The knife was pressed hard against his neck, crushing his adam's apple just slightly and he could feels the nerves of his neck tense up just slightly as he gave firmer presser of the blade against it. He could feel a bead or two of thick liquid drip from where the blade was taking residence, his breath hitching, trying to cope through the slight pain. Suddenly he felt something small, something soft and fuzzy touch one of his fingers. His eyes immediately opened, thinking that someone may have cought him in the act of what he was doing. There was no one. He slowly took the knife away from his neck and he looked down at his hand. A small bee landed on the back of his hand and seemed to be staying there. His sadened eyes started at it, glancing up as another flew from around the corner. And another and another. They all must have been coming from the bee hive his computer was running on. He started at the little bees as they gathered on him and he closed his eyes, wincing as one of the bees stung his hand, and he immediately dropped the knife. He cried more, slumping back into the wall as his bees collected themselves, slowly sliding to the floor, although upper back and head still against the wall. He stared down at them as a few of them pushed up his shirt to his chest and walked around his stomach for a few moments. Their tiny feet tickling in just the slightest way. This was not a time for Sollux to giggle, to give in to their cheering up. Then he saw a few more bees flying from the small hive, they were carrying a slab of honey comb. They rested the honeycomb onto Sollux's stomach when the other bees disbanded from it. Sollux eyed the small honeycomb against his bare stomach and he brought a hand up to wipe his eyes.
    "Th'top trying to make me feel better..." He said in a down voice. A voice of agony and sadness. But of course the bees didn't respond. A few of them flew up to Sollux's face and rested there, and there was a small pile of bees sitting under his chin, against the honeycomb on his stomach. He didn't deserve this comfort. Even if it was just from bees. Things from his bees always meant a lot to him, and he didn't deserve the small affections and comforts. He bit his lip, eyes closing for a moment as he just felt the tiny furry feet of his bees crawl over him and finally find a comfy spot, just resting there on him. The bees under his neck just stayed there, beginning to rest as well. His eyes opened once more as he stared off into space, then glancing down at the small insects. He brought a hand up to his stomach where the honeycomb was, resting his palm on the skin. He bent a finger, touching one of the bees softly, giving it's tiny black main a soft rub. The bee didn't seem to mind. "I don't th'ee why you guy'th care th'o much.. You're ju'tht bee'th..." He said his ears wilting as his blue and red eyes grew more sad. "But... I gue'th... you guy'th aren't that bad..." He said, picking up a small sleeping bee. The bee's wings fluttered softly for a moment before it was still once again. The yellow blood sighed and he brought his hand with the small bee in it closer, giving the bee a soft little kiss before placing him back onto his stomach where he was originally at. He tilted his head back, feeling the thick slime of the mind honey drip down his stomach from the comb. He didn't mind though. His bees brought it for him as what he believes a present. They wanted to make sure he didn't do anything, that he wasn't sad. He let out a soft sigh, head leaning back against the wall, completely forgetting about that knife that he had dropped beside himself and he only concentrated on the soft feelers of his bees, which he had started to find quite relaxing. He slowly put his hands on his stomach, gently pushing the honeycomb, and the bees resting on his skin beside it, up to his chest, just below his neck, which is where all of the other bees had gathered and started resting. He had his bees. And they seemed to care about him even if no one else did, even if everyone left him. He still had his bees, and they cared. They comforted him. He was a member of the beehive, and his fellow bees would make sure that he was well cared for. After all, A bee will always care for another bee.