Ahhh god, sorry this took so long! I had a horrid case of writer's block. But I FINALLY did it! I got this done! But I think maybe this and Sally's Song aren't as good as Broken... well, I can keep trying. This drabble (it's almost one thousand words, does it still count as a drabble? o_o) is actually inspired by two songs. "Talking to the Moon" by Bruno Mars gave me the original idea, which was basically Gamzee mourning Tavros's death. Then I fell back in love with "Everything Burns" by Ben Moody feat. Anastacia, and I listened to it so much that sober!Gamzee sneaked in.
Recent updates have destroyed this theory of why Gamzee went insane (although I never actually thought Tav had anything to do with it, I always thought it was sopor withdrawal), but hey, you're allowed to twist canon events a tad in fanfiction.
There might be another long wait after this, so I apologize for that. But I'll try my best to get the next one done quicker! I hope you enjoy the third installment of MSF. :D

Burning in Your Name

So this was what utter despair felt like.

It was as if he was drowning, his sorrow surrounding him, filling him with every shaky breath. The weight of Gamzee's broken blood bladder was sinking him deeper into madness; and this time, there was no one to reach in and pull him out. As he flung pie tins and horns every which way, crushing beeping machinery under his fists, Gamzee knew he was going insane. He felt as though he hadn't had sopor in sweeps. Smashing glass tubes with his clubs, his think pan was blurred with uncontrollable rage, just as his vision was blurred with tears. Yes, Gamzee knew all too well he was descending into insanity. With some help, he might have been able to pull through again. But the only person who ever helped him was gone, leaving no one to lean on, no one to pity, and no one to stop him from losing his mind.

Gamzee sank to the floor amongst shards of metal and glass, curling into a loose ball. His mind was racing so fast, it felt like his head was going to burst. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the flashes of blood, violence, and a certain chair-bound troll. It was in vain; Tavros's image was burned into Gamzee's think pan. His wide, gazing eyes, his shy smile, the way he'd look at his feet when he blushed...

Gamzee had had the chance to tell Tavros how he felt. He had his chance, and he missed it. He remembered the moment he came so close to revealing his secret; it felt like sweeps had passed since then.

Perhaps he was already crazy. Perhaps he was driven by the unbearable yearning. Either way, he made sure that in that moment, he and Tavros were closer together than they had ever been before. This was beyond the fist bumps and occasional arm around the shoulders, far beyond it. They were barely an inch apart; close enough to feel each other's hot breath on their faces, the heat from their bodies. They were close enough to kiss, to touch.

But Tavros was stiff, silent, and refused to look Gamzee in the eye. His grin slowly fell in doubt; of course Tavros wasn't flushed for him. What a motherfucking stupid idea this was. So he backed away, shivering slightly from the lack of warmth. Mumbling an apology, Gamzee turned on his heel and swiftly walked off, his head down, shoulders slumped. He could hear Tavros calling his name, trying to stumble after him on unfamiliar new legs. Gamzee picked up his pace; it took every bit of him to keep from looking back at the troll he pitied so much. If he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from grabbing him and kissing him for all he was worth.

That was the last time Gamzee saw him alive.

He choked back a sob, thinking of that image again. He knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life, however long it would last. Tavros's broken body splayed across the lab floor, his own lance embedded in his chest, brown blood splattered everywhere. Gamzee couldn't bear to look at those glassy eyes that used to be filled with such life. So he held Tavros's face against his chest, cradling the mangled corpse in his arms. He couldn't stop the flow of tears, nor could he stifle the cries of grief. Tavros was dead, and Gamzee never told him how much he pitied him. He never got the chance to say goodbye.

Snapping back to reality, Gamzee was met with the feeling of hot tears on his face. Growling, he rubbed them away violently, further smearing his ruined makeup. Crying was for the weak. Descendants of the subjugglators didn't cry.

Gamzee smiled coldly. Yes. He was a descendant of the subjugglators. He could kill a motherfucker, and no one could do a fucking thing. He could kill all the motherfuckers, and no one could do shit. Visions of blood, fire, and death danced before his widening eyes. He sat up and grabbed a club, twirling it in his long fingers, contemplating what he could do with his weapon. He could break a few bones, crack open a think pan or two. Maybe he could abandon his clubs altogether for tooth and claw, like nature intended. Gamzee was grinning then, baring his sharp fangs. So many options; so few specimens to test them on.

Snatching another club, he stood, broken glass crunching under his feet. They would die. They would all die by his noble hand. Blood of all colours would be running through his fingers, splattered on his weapons, painted across the walls. Flesh would be torn to ribbons by his claws. Bones would snap under his weight. And they would burn. Burn, burn, they would all scream and burn.

Gamzee would find the motherfucker who stole Tavros from him. He would find the motherfucker and tear them apart, shred by screaming shred. When he got tired of their shrieking, he would rip out their throat. Watch as their blood spilled from their veins, leaving their corpse a dry husk. He would revel in the colour, savour the sweet, metallic taste and smell, and cackle.

Anyone who stood in his way would burn. Shrivel to dust amongst a blaze hot as the sun, shrieking, begging for their worthless life as they were reduced to nothing. His fiery rage would reign over every last excuse for a being. Gamzee would not fail his ancestors.

He would not fail Tavros.

Stepping onto the transportalizer, Gamzee knew he was ready to welcome his brothers and sisters to the Dark Carnival.