A/N: It's not normally my thing, but I'm going to try writing a multi-chapter story. There will be five chapters in all,and I'll probably update once a week.

August 22nd, 2106

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and if it was even physically possible by this point, you're willing to bet that the hands on the clock would move even slower, simply to spite you. You've only been in this class for about ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity has passed. You feel as though your soul has withered and died only to be reborn anew in order to torment you yet further, in the time it has taken for the minute hand to move from the 6 to the 8. Are you over reacting? Maybe, but like Hell you give even a single fuck. You're a high school sophomore, dammit! And it's only the first day of school, too. How are you ever going to survive an entire year of- wait, what class are you even in right now, anyway?

You're not sure. A quick glance at your schedule should tell you, but you don't care enough to pull it out. Besides, your minimal to non-existent interest in whatever your teacher is droning on about is immediately forgotten when the door slides open.

Instantly, you frown.

He's a new kid, obviously. Your town isn't necessarily small, but it's not as though new kids aren't obvious. For one, you've never seen him before. You make it your business to know who's who in your poor excuse for a home town, and then promptly do everything in your power to avoid socializing with them. Plus, he has that sense of hope about him. The kind of person who still believes that he's going to do something meaningful with his life after high school. No one who has lived in your town for more than a year would ever be foolish enough to believe that anymore.

But hopeful or not, you take an instant disliking to the guy. He's wearing a dark pink shirt that reads, "HOT A WHAT" in thin, yellow lettering, which is just fucking shameful. He's practically begging to get his ass kicked and, in your stereotypical high school, you're sure that he will eventually. He has an obnoxiously blonde shade of hair - to the point that it's almost white - and you know that there's no way it's natural. Either he dyed it, or you're going to find the DNA manipulator who did this and give him a piece of your mind. The final feature that makes you detest his very being is his shades. Shades. Indoors. What kind of absolute douche wears fucking shades indoors? Obviously, he does. Wow, you hate him. He's been standing in the doorway for all of ten seconds and you're already imagining what it would be like to wrap your hands around his skinny, pale little neck.

You also have the undeniable urge to see his eyes, but you shove that feeling deep, deep down in the pit of your stomach, and bottle it up. You seriously can't believe that you're so desperate to find your match that you'd actually consider him.

"Sorry I'm late." The new kids says, looking in the general direction of the teacher. His tone is apologetic, but considering the blank look on his face, you have a hard time believing that he's not using some advanced form of sarcasm.

The teacher purses his lips distastefully, and glances quickly down at his roll call sheet. "It's not a problem… Dave." He nods his head towards the only empty seat in the room and, despite yourself, you tense. "Just please take your seat. Right there, next to Mr. Vantas."

You sigh and look away, doing your best to appear uninterested. It's unlike you to care so much about any one person so suddenly - even if your idea of "care" involves snapping his arm in half.

Dave (you should have know that his name would be something so simple - it's pure irony) takes his seat and faces the front of the room, much to your relief and frustration. He appears to be just as intent on ignoring you as you had expected. You can't figure out whether or not that's a good thing, and it makes you hate him all the more.

Eventually, you decide that you're not going to let him rule your life, so you pull out your notebook and force yourself to pay attention, scribbling down notes furiously when the opportunity arises. You don't know what you're trying to prove. The only time you've ever hated someone as much as you do right now is when you first met John, but that was only after you had talked to him several times and even then, you were deluding yourself. He's one of your closest friends now. You really only got over your unnatural hate for him after befriending him. So… maybe you should try to make Dave your friend? The thought sickens you, and by "sickens" you mean that it twists your insides in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant.

Shit, what is happening to you?

You're so relieved when the bell finally rings. If there's one good thing about Dave, it's that thinking about him at least makes time pass by a lot faster. But then you realize that you just admitted to thinking about him for the better part of an hour, and any good opinion on him instantly wilts.

You're so ready to be rid of his presence that you shoot up in your chair and accidentally send your supplies flying, skidding across the ground. You groan, and drop to the floor, picking your stuff up before anyone can step on them. No one seems to have the decency to help you, but at least they avoid stepping on anything. Halle-fucking-lujah.

"Is this yours?" A voice, smooth and carefully controlled, attracts your attention, and you look up. Dave is kneeling in front of you, his binder tucked under one arm and yours outstretched towards you. His face shows no hint of emotion, but "blank" isn't exactly the right word, you think. It bugs you - that you can't come up with the right words, but you decide that it can wait until later.

"Yeah. Thanks." You say tensely, taking it back from Dave hesitantly. You're not entirely sure what to expect from him. A minute ago, you would have pegged him as an insensitive dick, but he seems to be the only one in this damn school with manners. You decide that you can at least try to be polite.

He nods and stands up straight. A strange look crosses over Dave's face, but before you can question it, it's gone. "See you around." He says finally, and then he turns and walks away, leaving you with papers and pencils still scattered across the tile floor.

You stay there for a moment, on your knees and clutching your binder to your chest, before you return to your senses. You close your mouth, which was open to say something - anything - that would have made Dave stay, and close your eyes until your cheeks return to their regular color. It takes longer than it should, because when you close your eyes, you just see Dave again. It's like he's imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

At the very least, you now know the right word to describe Dave's expression. Empty. He's empty. Just like you used to be before you filled yourself with hate and anger and resentment. You don't want Dave to end up like that, too.

You glance at the clock. 10:25.

Dave has been in your life for less than two hours, has said six words, and looked at you twice, if that. And you think you're falling for him.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

You let these confusing feeling fester inside of you all through second period and on your way to the cafeteria for lunch. You don't normally eat lunch, but you need some guidance and as much as you sometimes hate your friends, a few of them occasionally say worthwhile things. Most of these things come from Kanaya, but you wonder if you'll be able to pry her away from her soulmate long enough to get any good advice from her. Probably not, but you can still try, right?

The cafeteria is just as you remember from last year - loud, cramped, and reeking of the slop that your educational system considers to be "food". Your nose crinkles in disgust, but you push on anyway. You much prefer the library over this. You're not sure how anyone couldn't, but you suppose that there's no accounting for taste.

As usual, your group of friends has pushed two tables together and are talking animatedly, shouting and laughing to be heard over the roar of the rest of the room. It should quiet down a bit once the other students pack up their lunch and take it to somewhere else in the school. Like you said, the cafeteria is cramped. There's hardly enough tables to fit the freshman year alone, much less the whole school, so students are allowed to eat wherever they want as long as it's within reason and so long as they can make it to fourth period when the bell rings.

You look around the table for a moment and, coming up empty in terms of helpful friends, take a seat next to Terezi. She's one of your closest confidants, both literally and figuratively. She's also blind, not that it stops her from being one of the biggest smartasses you know. Her pupils are still visible, it just looks like someone put a milky white layer over her eyes. You kind of feel bad for her. Because Terezi is blind, she's never going to really find her soulmate. She's going to have those same two eye colors - one bright teal and the other a dark cerulean - for the rest of her life. No sight means no eye contact, which means no happy ever after like in your romcoms.

As if sensing your melancholy thoughts, Terezi turns to face you, grinning as usual. "Glad you could make it for once." She elbows you playfully, and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get used to it." You sigh, and press a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'm just looking for Kanaya. Have you seen her?"

Terezi pretends to be offended, and puts a hand dramatically over her chest. "You'd rather hang out with Miss. Fussyface over your own girlfriend?" She crosses her arms with a huff. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were cheating on me."

You make a sound that's somewhere between a chuckle and a snort, and roll your eyes again. Terezi has the power to make you do that a lot. "Yeah, sure. As if Kanaya isn't attached to her soulmate at the hip." Now it's your turn to cross your arms, so you do.

It's been a week since you last saw Terezi face to face and, in that time frame, you must have forgotten that - even though she's blind - she's always been able to see right through you. Her grin slips into a frown, and she surveys you for a moment before saying, quietly, "You could just call her by her name, Karkat."

You don't reply. Now is neither the time nor the place to delve into the clusterfuck that is your emotions. You stand up, brushing aside the hand she was about to put on your shoulder. "Whatever, Terezi. I'll find her myself. See you later." You tell her distractedly, and head towards the entrance you just came in a moment ago. You don't look back, but you know exactly what her face looks like right now. Her lips are pressed together to keep her from frowning, and you can feel her disappointment and exasperation from across the room.

You just keep walking, blocking out her opinion on the matter as you always do. It's not your fault, really, it's not. You should probably talk to someone about this, though. Your first choice is Kanaya, but like you told Terezi, you doubt that she'll ever leave her sou- Rose, alone. That wasn't a lie. They had found each other just a month ago so, with the relationship new and wonderful, they're about as in love as anyone can ever possibly be. They are the definition of "in love" and, unfortunately, that means that Kanaya has little time for anyone else. But you'd probably do the same thing if you had your soulmate, so you can't blame her. You don't even care. She can do what she wants with her time - it's not like it affects you. Yeah. You definitely don't care.

Your contemplation on the levels of how little you care is cut short however, when you walk into something big and solid. You grunt, landing flat on your ass on the floor. "What the hell?" You snap, preparing to give this other student a piece of your already keyed-up mind, but your words quickly die in your throat.

Dave stands above you, his arms outstretched like he meant to catch you. Yeah, because that worked out so well. His monotone expression has slipped, and he looks mildly surprised, like he hasn't figured out what you're doing on your ass. You take minimal satisfaction from the knowledge that you got his façade to drop, even if your tailbone will probably be sore tomorrow.

"Shit." Dave says after a moment, and you can just picture the puzzlement in his eyes. Or, well, you could if you knew what his eyes looked like.

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard that you bet the town over felt it. "Yeah, don't try to help me up or apologize or anything, dipstick." You say angrily as you climb to your feet. You're glad that you left everything in your locker before heading to lunch, because if you hadn't, it would be the classroom all over again. God, you don't even want to think about that.

He opens his mouth, no doubt about to point out that you were technically the one not paying attention, but before he can, running footsteps attract the attention of both of you.

John rounds the corner and comes to a skidding stop, looking slightly out of breath. "Thanks for waiting for me, Dave." He sighs, and you can't help but take notice of the sack lunch under his arm. It's so typical of him to forget stuff. You should really set up a system for him like those rubber bands Jade used to wear on her fingers in middle school. And you probably will, but for now…

"How do you know him?" You ask John, throwing volume control out the window as you gesture wildly to Dave.

You're usually a lot more mellow than this, and have been ever since you grew out of that loud pre-teen stage. John raises an eyebrow curiously at your behavior, but you ignore him. You want to know how your friend - possibly the most innocent child you have ever known - came in to contact with Dave fucking Strider.

"Well, uh," John begins, giving Dave a look that suggests he's just as lost as the blonde is, "Dave moved here about a month ago. He's Rose's twin brother. They're my neighbors and, also, he's been my best friend since I was ten. We talk on Pesterchum all the time." John frowns, waving a hand in front of your face. His eyes - one a vibrant blue and the other an obnoxious cotton candy pink - are full of worry, and you hate that almost as much as you wish you could hate Dave. "He's turntechGodhead. Does that ring any bells?"

Of course. The walls and walls of red text that John can never shut up about. How did you not see it sooner? You must be the densest motherfucker to ever walk the Earth. It all makes sense. You've never talked to him, but John and Jade are always talking about red text and purple text, who you assume is Rose.

Great. So not only has Dave managed to make you question the entire structure of your emotions, but he also took your best friend. Or, well, one of the closest at least. That used to be Kanaya, but… you don't really want to think about that.

"Yeah. Yeah, that rings plenty of fucking bells, John." You run a hand through your hair, suddenly deflated. You want to say more - you want to say plenty more - but you don't know what to say. Continuing to speak would probably just embarrass you, but you're not usually the type to settle down so easily, and with so few words. You can't think of anything to say that won't make your insecurities or you mind-numbingly huge inferiority complex painfully obvious. It takes a moment for you to swallow your pride, but once you manage to choke it down, you force yourself to turn on your heel and walk away. It takes all of your willpower to not slap that stupid smirk on Dave's face as you leave, but you manage. Somehow.

You hurry into the boy's bathroom and turn on the sink, splashing the cold, metallic water onto your face, which is red from embarrassment and anger. God, this is so unlike you. Why are you acting so odd? You feel like you're being written out of character in some shitty fanfiction to make the story flow better. In other words: you feel upside down and inside out when you're around Dave. It's just… not fair! What does he have that the other boys in your school don't? You've never liked blonde hair before, or stupid graphic tees, and you've sure as Hell never liked arrogance or a know-it-all smirk. So then… why? You'll ask it over and over until it makes since. Why do you hate to love him? Why do you love him at all?

Your eyes, tired and heavy, stare back at you in the mirror. You hate your eyes. Or, well, one of them at least. The one you hate is an ugly, dark red color. Slightly too red to be bergundy, but still dim enough that it could be brown under the right lights. Your left eye though - the one you adore - is a deep crimson color. It's vibrant and bright and you love it. You love that your soulmate is going to have such lovely eyes.

The bathroom door creaks open, but you keep your head down, sighing deeply. "Go away, John." You mutter. It crosses your mind that there are other boys in the school besides Egbert, but you're already embarrassed and full of self-hate, so misnaming a stranger doesn't really matter all that much to you in the long run.

"Sadly enough, I'm not John." Dave says, a hint of humor lacing his words. You can see his stupid pretty-boy smirk in the mirror, and your hands clench into fists. You wait for the teasing, the prodding, anything that fits your image of him. Something that will give you the excuse you need to punch him. But what Dave says next surprises you. "But in all seriousness, are you okay?" He asks, coming up behind you and putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His smirk is gone now, leaving only casual concern. "Somethin' tells me that the show you put on back there isn't how you normally act."

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. If you concentrate hard enough, maybe he'll go away. But when you open them, Dave is still there, looking as though he can wait for your reply for years if he has to. "Why did you come after me?" You ask instead, purposely avoiding his question. You don't think he's ready for the answer. You don't think you're ready for the answer.

Your question takes him by surprise, and though he had appeared casual, you can tell that Dave had been wearing his concern like a mask when you see how easily it slips. He stares at you for a second, then sighs, leaning against the sink next to yours. "Guess I can't fool you, huh, K-Kat?" He murmurs, and you decide to ignore his horrid nickname for the time being.

"No. As I'm sure you'll eventually learn, Dave," You put emphasis on his actual name as a way of telling him that nicknames are not okay, "I'm very good at detecting bullshit, and you stink of it." You wrinkle your nose in disgust to prove your point.

Dave just shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm sure." He agrees, then he falls silent. You let him, assuming that he's probably thinking of a good way to answer your question without showing too much emotion. That would be uncool, and you're pretty sure that Dave values his cool factor very much.

"I came in after you…" Dave begins slowly, and you turn your attention towards him, "I came in because I care about you." He says finally, as if it was a physical effort to tell you that. "And I can tell that you don't like me, but I'd like to start over. And maybe even be friends, Karkat." Dave admits honestly, and any snarky reply you had is instantly forgotten at the use of your real name. Something tells you that Dave only uses real names when he's serious. "If that's okay with you, I mean. Wouldn't want to waste these Strider charms on someone who's not prepared to be wooed." He had been staring at the wall as he spoke, but when he says this, he turns to look at you, smiling in a way that turns your face red all over again.

You clear your throat, turning away to hide your blush. "Y-Yeah." You stutter, and cringe at how shitty you sound. "We can start over, just give me some time alone for now." You say this all in a rush, pleading to any form of God that might or might not exist to make Dave fucking leave.

"Great." Dave pushes off of the sink, still smiling as he ruffles your hair. Usually, you hate when people do that, but for some reason- no. No, you don't want to admit that you uncharacteristically liked it. It's not happening. "See you around, babe." Dave gives you a little two fingered salute and finally - finally - slips through the door, gone before you can tell him that "babe" is not your goddamn name. "Babe", huh? You'll add that to the ever-growing list of "Things Dave Does That You Won't Admit You Like". You bet that this list will be miles long before you're finished with it. You could even submit it the Guinness Book of World Records for the world's longest list, but then you'd be admitting to liking those things, so you decide against it.

You groan, and sink to the floor, holding your face in your hands. What has become of you? Normally you detest this kind of behavior - especially from yourself - but you just can't seem to turn it off. What is Dave doing to you? This- this just isn't normal, and you refuse to believe that a guy like him has managed to wrap you around his finger in less than a day. This kind of thing only happens in cheesy romance novels that you refuse to read. You don't believe in love at first sight, and you probably never really will. Love takes time and effort and patience. A successful relationship - even between soulmates - doesn't just happen.

This shouldn't be happening to you. You hate Dave, but you want to kiss him until your lips are bruised and all you can feel is him. But he wants to be friends, and you think that you kind of do too? Why is this so complicated? Still… it's nothing you can't handle, right? You're Karkat motherfucking Vantas - self-proclaimed master of romance and relationships. Surely, you can handle a temporary crush (if it's not temporary you're going to shoot yourself) on one douchebag, can't you?

You can't believe how stupid your life has become in just four hours.