"Yo TZ. There's someone looking at you," Dave informed you, while keeping a monotone and hushed voice.
"That would explain the feeling of me being watched," You let out a hushed cackle and close your locker. "Who is it?"
He sighed and you hear the sound of his glasses clinking around, he must be adjusting his shades.
"You know him. That Makara dude." He grabs your cane and hands it to you as the bell rang. You feel him grab your arm and steer you down the crowded hallway. People moved out of the way of your stick. You tapped it and swung it, more playfully than the need to. You just love hitting people's ankles and listening to them hop around on one foot or gasp in pain when the hard metal comes in contact with such a sensitive bone. Dave was guiding you through the hallways, his job as your best friend.
You hear his phone go off and him reach into his pocket to read the message. Dave doesnt slow down to check his phone, he never does. He suddenly stopped, causing you to stumble. He never stops for a text message either.
"Dave!" You hit him in the gut with the handle of your totally cool dragon cane. A small grunt of pain, made you smile. More than it should since it wasn't justifiable and quite rude.
"Okay, Terezi. Math now, four doors down on your right," He rested his arm on your shoulder, mocking you of your height. "I gotta go deal with some bullshit nerds." By bullshit nerds he meant John, his boyfriend, and Sollux, a gamer who taught you how to use your laptop.
"Leaving a poor blind girl by herself?" You were slightly surprised he was leaving you alone. But you could navigate the hallways yourself. "This better be justifiable, Coolkid."
He snorts, "Oh cut the shit. You could get across a fucking minefield by yourself," He removes his arm from your shoulder, "Get to class." You hear his familiar footsteps walk away, a bit rushed but still cool.
You laugh again and continue to walk to class. You hold your cane in your left hand, running your hand along the lockers so you can accurately find the "fourth door to your right". You swing your cane, knocking a few peoples ankles. They grumble after you as you laugh but they give you a leeway. You were after all the famous poooor blind girl so they had to be nice to a disabled damsel in distress. You could smell their pity for you and it made you sick but it made you laugh. They should be scared of you, if anything
You finally feel the fourth door, it opens to your touch. You push the door open and the smell of boredom stabs you in the face. You enter the classroom and make your way to the very back of the room where your desk is. It's next to a complete bitch who was surprisingly your friend. You sit down in the desk, leaning your cane carefully against your desk. Steadying it until you were positive it wasn't going to budge. Your backpack falls to the ground by your feet, where it usually sits.
You hear the familiar fast and loud footsteps of the complete bitch you happened to be your friend. Quiet time was over, drama time was in.
"Hey Tereeeeeeeezi," She slammed down her books on her desk. "You seem absolutely horrid today! Almost as if you dressed yourself blindfolded!" She laughed at her own horrible joke. She just reeked of pride.
"Not funny, Spider Bitch. Even though that was such an uncool insult, you smell so proud of yourself," You cackle and adjust your candy red glasses.
The "Spider bitch" was also known as Vriska Serket. A complete bitch but still your friend, surprisingly. She was so proud, it made her uncool but people still worshiped her as their queen. You personally think it wasn't fair or justified because all they were really doing was trying not to get their asses kicked to hell. Vriska was better known as the Spider Bitch or Arachnid IronGrip [her gang name as she calls it]. Once someone tried to prank her, probably that loser nerd, John, with a huge spider but Vriska simply adopted it and kept it as a pet. She still has it in her room. Ever since that, people have tried putting spiders in her long black hair, in her pencil cases but all she does is laugh and set them free outside. Most people have stopped because somehow, she always knew who it was and how to get back at them. Those people had it coming. Vriska just brought them to justice, with your help of course.
You shift in your seat. The uncomfortable feeling of someone watching you settled in, giving you a chill along your spine. You can almost smell the persons eyes on you, nervously staring. You smirk and wish you were closer so you could smell who was giving you such a strange look.
You reach into your pocket and pull out some red chalk, your favourite smelling colour but with that awesome chalky scent. So, sweet and chalky; overall amazing. You constantly use it during classes, to keep you amused. You like to listen to the sounds of the shapes being drawn. The smooth circle and the hard sound of the sharpness of the square. Sometimes you swear you can smell the shapes. But the doctor said it could be possible to devolp such sharp senses, due to your synesthesia, even though smelling shapes is extremely rare and is probably you just stretching your limits.
You fill in the soft circle, or try to. You can't really see what you're doing, obviously. After you finish the messy work, you gently move your hand around the circle, feeling the places you messed up and clearing them. You'd get Vriska to check it out after class. The square was easier to deal with. Sharp lines, all the same length. Hopefully. If you didn't fuck up again. You carefully fill in the square on the desk but you didn't even bother going around the edges. The soft grainy powder coated your hand. It was sweet, like cherry hard candies. Those delicious, underrated, sugary, red sweets that you try to collect. The taste doesnt really appeal to you; too sweet. But the smell was your favourite smell.
You smell your fingers, tempted to lick off the powder.
"Miss Pyrope," The teacher called your name. You snap your head up, knocking your glasses weird. "You're with Vantas this project."
You didn't even bother saying anything back cos the teacher would just ignore you. You wipe your hands off on your black pants and reach for your cane but you end up knocking it over. Fucking stupid. As you move to pick it up, you hear slow footsteps approach you. You remember those footsteps better than you remember the name. The heart in your chest pounds as he stepped closer. Then you heard a few familiar sounds telling you he picked up your fallen cane. He took your hand and placed the cane into your awaiting grip. Dear gog, he still smelt like candy red cherries and it made you smile. Because Karkat Vantas has always smelt better than the candy.