Author Note: So I started reading Homestuck a few weeks ago and this ship grabbed my attention. I can't really place a finger on why I like them so much. Oh yeah, this story takes place after the long flash game where these characters are introduced. Rated T for swearing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I sit cross-legged on the ground, wrapping tape around my broken skateboard with large shaky motions. It's sloppy, but it should still work. The world swirls around me more violently than usual, shifting into a new dream bubble. They have a tendency to shift in order to accommodate the resident's memories.
I suddenly feel the prickle of grass along my covered legs. The shadow of a large tree smothers me in darkness. I swivel my head, ignoring the tilt of the world, and try to figure out where I am. My breath hitches in my throat; hopefully Tula's bubble made the jump with mine, or it could take a while to find each other again.
Fuck, I shouldn't have wandered off.
The sound of footsteps reassures me of my connection with the others. I turn my head all the way around to see who it is, but the motion pulls my weight backwards as my head re-acquaints itself with the hard ground.
One of my least favorite trolls is lurking, his chin held high in disdain. "W4H7 D0 YU0 W4NT, 458H47?" My probing question comes out surprisingly articulate, despite my stumbling over the words.
"W9uld y9u 6elieve me if I said I wanted t9 assist y9u with repairing y9ur wheeled t9y?" Kankri strolls over to where I can see him from my position in the dirt. I would say he sounds sincere, but that would be a lie.
"N0" I struggle back to a vertical position, though the world is not completely right side up yet.
"I didn't think s9." He takes a moment to sit in front of me, mirroring my position. The shadows suck him in with relish. "But despite y9ur canker9us attitude, we have much t9 discuss." I draw my legs closer to myself and bring my knees up as a wall between us. He doesn't take the hint. "Acc9rding t9 P9rrim, I may have 9r may n9t have made a few a6liest c9mments t9wards y9u this evening. I am supp9sed to, 9n her 6ehest, ap9l9gize to y9u. I came here t9 d9 just that, but y9u giving me the middle finger is n9t helping y9ur case. Y9u sh9uld at least tag that thing, it is 6lantantly 9ffensive."
I don't care, and I don't put down my middle finger. "FUX Y0U"
Kankri sighs, straightening the collar on his obnoxious red sweater. "Very well, if y9u are unwilling t9 accept my humble ap9l9gy I will make myself scarce. I can tell when I'm n9t wanted s9mewhere." He rises from the grass, brushing bits of it off his pants. "I d9n't kn9w h9w Latula deals with y9u; 6eing unwilling t9 listen t9 anything any9ne has t9 say. She deserves 6etter." He huffs and walks away, his steps a little harsher than before.
I try to come up with words to shout at him as he vanishes. I want to say how he doesn't listen either and he should go fuck himself. I want to say he is an insufferable asshole. I want to say I have seen him watching Latula, and I would fight to keep her; I would kill him to keep her. She does deserve better, but he is not it. But I only end up saying one thing.
"1M 50RRY"
I stand on wobbly feet, leaning on my skateboard. It doesn't save me from stumbling head first into the tree. The shadow rustles, laughing at my display. I still don't know where I am, but I am starting to remember. These trees look vaguely familiar.
I put my newly repaired skateboard on the ground and put a little bit of weight on it. The tape seems to be holding, so I kick off in a random direction. I leave the shadow, though now I cast one of my own. It stares up at me, and I kick faster to leave it behind. It doesn't work.
I crash into another tree and fall back onto the ground. My helmet nearly flew off on impact. There are a few more trees in this part of the dream bubble. They seem to form a circle around a clearing. The tree I collided with is part of that circle. I stand up slowly, rubbing my helmet with one hand; it doesn't help the pain, but I like to think it does. I scoop up my board and meander into the clearing.
I remember this place.
This is where Latula and I learned to skateboard, before the game, before either of our accidents. We were only four sweeps old when we built these ramps. I haven't seen it in a dream bubble before; it must have come straight out of my head.
I skate up one of the ramps and down another one without falling. I turn around and board the same path again, attempting a kick flip this time. It doesn't work out this time. My helmet bounces off of the wood surface.
I just lie there; face down, unwilling to move an inch. I'm not doing well today; this is about the tenth time I've fallen. I stay where I am until I hear the rolling of skateboard wheels. Latula always knows where to find me. I lift my head up as she rolls to halt about a foot away from me.
"wh4ts up, m1tun4 my m4n?" She sits down as I pull myself to a sitting position. The world only lurches slightly.
"NU71N" I manage to spit out, pulling my skateboard into my lap and fiddling with the wheels.
"w3ll som3th1ng r4d must h4v3 h4pp3n3d for you to 3nd up h3r3." She gestured to the bubble around us. "1 h4vn't s33n th1s pl4c3 s1nc3 b3for3 th3 g4m3."
"S7R1P 534CH3RD M33N4H 5OD4Y46" This is not what I wanted to say. "H4 H4 H4 4H 4H 44" Dammit why did I say that.
Latula raises one of her eyebrows, "oh r34lly?" she questions.
"N0" I can't see Tula's eyes behind her red glasses. I wish I could. "1 W452 JUS7 H33R PR4C71C1NG MY BDO4R1NG"
"pr4ct1c1ng on your brok3n sk4t3bo4rd?" Despite my quick tape job, I can't hide anything from her. At least it hadn't broken again while I was riding it.
"FUCX1N CRONU5 ND H51 FKK1UNG 834RK YM 8O4RD FUCK"
"th4t's so unr4d of h1m, n3xt t1me 1 s33 h1s punk 4ss 1m gonn4 m4k3 h1m w1sh h3 w4s n3v3r born!" Latula jumps to her feet, shaking one fist in the air. Despite the fact that we are dead, she is vibrant and full of life.
"1M 50RRY" I duck my head forward in shame.
"don't apolog1ze for wh4t th4t asshol3 d1d!"
"1M 50RRY" I touch my chin to my chest. I can't look at her; she must be mad at me now. I feel one soft hand on my chin, pulling it up and forcing eye contact.
Latula is frowning, her forehead creased with worry lines. "1'm sorry, pl34s3 don't 4polog1ze."
"1M 50RRY"
She pulls me forward into a hug, her arms shaking slightly. I tentatively return the gesture. I want to ask what's wrong. I want to tell her that she shouldn't cry; it's against the rules I just made up. I want to say I love her, and I always will. But I can't find the words.
"1M 50RRY"
End note: That's all I've got. Writing this ship drains me emotionally.