There are certain expectations in troll society about taking in a freeloader with no place to go, as Dad Egbert finds out when he offers to host two of his son's stranded friends post-game.

He doesn’t tell Dave why he hides his food under the futon, behind mixing equipment, inside the bricks of his desk. Why his swords are two steps from where he sleeps, and why he’s trained himself to cat nap in three hour intervals of insomniac nervousness.

Even the human fandom has recognized that it's a love story. Karkat's just disgusted that we've got them in the wrong quadrant. Rated Teen for Karkat's vocabulary.

Overhead, light flows across the ceiling, expanding and contracting like a slow pulse matching his own. His eyes are heavy and growing heavier with as indeterminate time passes. The pile of clothes under him shifts, his back arches further to accommodate it, he's drifting, comfortable and pulsing like these little specks of light on the ceiling. Slow and dimmed at first, Gamzee becomes aware of of his hand lying on his stomach.

You never told a single motherfucker walking this planet what went down here. Wasn't the business of nobody but you, him and God. She wasn't your mother or your girlfriend or even your motherfucking friend. Maybe if you told her, though, maybe she'd leave. You know you'd walk away from it if you could.