A/N: Okay, I'm not wanting to upload this. At all. But, I promised my moirail, and people said I could pull it off, but... No, I don't like this at fucking all. I'm sorry to subject you all to this *cries*
Okay, I'm done.
~Webs
You slide to a stop in front of the raised garden bed, looking through shaded eyes at the familiar sight of the boy before you, jacket draped over his arm and tie undone, probably more familiar than you'd like to admit, but, as always, you say nothing.
Instead, you just watch the boy as he hops onto the back of your bike, waiting for him to settle down and brace himself before kicking off and pedaling out of the gated schoolyard, remaining silent as you look straight ahead of you.
You and Karkat never speak. Sometimes he's so silent, you doubt his ability to vocalize, but then you remember that's stupid.
People think you two are strange; always together, never speaking. You pick him up at seven o'clock every morning, and drop him off at three thirty after school. He meets you in front of his family apartment complex, and in front of the school gardens, always on time, always silent and brooding.
Today had been no different; as soon as you'd been released, you'd biked down the eight blocks between yours and Karkat's schools, taking the tree-lined, almost completely empty streets to the edge of town. Not many people make their way that far out, the majority of the students boarding on campus, so you'd had clear roads the entire way, as per usual. You'd passed Dave on your way off your own campus, knowing that your twin'd get home on his own before setting out to meet Karkat.
You'd earned your usual share of strange looks from Karkat's confused classmates, the usual judgmental whispers, but you'd paid them no mind; what you and Karkat have is weird, and you'd probably be whispering about it as well, had you anyone but Dave to whisper to.
Dave was the reason you two met in the first place, anyway. Had it not been for him asking you to bike to school super early to pick up some forgotten homework, you wouldn't have seen Karkat walking down a secluded street far too early to be walking somewhere close by. You wouldn't have stopped and looked at him, waiting for him to catch up to you.
You wouldn't have offered him a ride, and the two of you wouldn't have made this silent agreement to ride to and from school together.
You glance behind you at the boy in question, finding Karkat's head tilted up towards the sky, and realize he's watching the blossoming Apple trees you ride alongside, and can't help the minute quirk of your lips. Karkat's almost always scowling, face tugged into a frown and brows furrowed; you don't think you've ever seen him with any other expression, except the one he's making now, just pensive curiosity.
For some reason, this makes you happy, and you quickly look back ahead, deciding to peddle a little slower, see if Karkat'll notice. He doesn't seem to, thankfully, though you don't know yourself why you did in the first place. You two aren't having a conversation or anything; there's no reason for you to slow down other than to admit you enjoy his silent company.
Judging by the warm weather, you've been biking him around for almost an entire year. That's entire year's worth of a relationship built on silent signals and unspoken words; you haven't said a word to him since the two of your met, and you realize you don't even know what Karkat's voice sounds like. Maybe he really is mute.
You snort and shake your head at this, taking a turn down into Karkat's neighborhood. Karkat could be thinking the very same of you right now, and you wouldn't ever know, because you wouldn't ever ask; just like everything else, the unspoken rule is no speaking. You don't know why its developed into this, and you usually don't care, but as you hear Karkat exhale slowly behind you, you realize that you're actually really bothered by it all.
Why hasn't he said anything? Is he nervous like you? Or is he just that much of an asshole? Maybe he hates you, really, and just spends time with you because you offer free rides.
With another snort, you realize that that's exactly what this is; Karkat has no other reason to know you, or keep coming in contact with you. You scold yourself for ever considering otherwise.
You chance another glance at your passenger, inadvertently tensing up when you see him looking back at you. You quickly avert your gaze back forward, and hear a short stop of breath behind you, sounding far too much like a chuckle. You allow your cheeks to pink a little, but otherwise keep your expression the same, at least until you feel a weight between your shoulder blades.
You almost protest in surprise, feet nearly pushing back on the pedals to stop the bike, but then you hear that almost-laugh again, and keep going, though look over your shoulder a little to see he's got his forehead resting on your back. You open your mouth to say something, then think better of it, and close it again.
You realize Karkat and you have never touched, not even in passing; you're both too careful for that. You've, again, had no reason to, but you still find the thought odd that you've known each other a year, and this is the closest you've ever been...
You're tempted to say something again, but don't, clenching your jaw a little as you feel Karkat's breath on your back, furrowing your eyebrows. You wish you weren't so nervous about talking to him, wish that you could have a normal conversation with him. You want to know why he doesn't start speaking first, why the two of you are seemingly doomed to this silent charade of who can hold their breath the longest.
You think you might hear Karkat whispering something, but then chalk it up as the wind, this time not considering questioning him.
You remember a time when you two had almost-conversations, inhales of breath meant to form words, but then cut off short by either nerves, or just the underlying feeling of needing to stay silent. It would happen often, now that you think about it, in the early months, but it quickly faded out into, well, this.
And you hate it. You hate it with a burning passion, and just want to talk to him. Dave's pretty much best friends with the dude by now, but despite all the times he's been over to your guy's apartment, you've never spoken. You've always been out with your own friends, or holed up in your room by your workbench when he's there. You actually think Dave is plotting against you ever having the chance to speak to the kid.
The only time you've seen him outside of this little chauffeuring-thing you've got going on was sometime last Spring, just after you'd started giving him a ride, when you'd come home to find Karkat sprawled out on the couch, Dave sitting on the floor. You and Karkat had made eye contact in surprise, neither saying anything. Dave had asked if you knew Karkat, and you'd realized you hadn't known his name before then. Like an asshole, you hadn't even asked.
Well, neither had he, so you guess it's not all your fault.
You slow down even more as you approach Karkat's apartment building, sighing as you break and put out your foot to steady the bike. Karkat gets up with a sigh himself, and starts walking for the front door, like always, but then he surprises you and stops, turning to look back at you.
He opens his mouth, and you see something flash in his eyes, before he sighs and looks back away. You try not to feel disappointed, offering him a small nod as you kick off again, assuming he wasn't actually going to say anything.
Karkat surprises you again as he drops his stuff and jumps in front of you, grabbing onto your handlebars before you can pedal off. You quickly break so you don't send him flying, though you think you do inadvertently run over his foot a little; he doesn't seem to notice, taking a deep breath before leaning up to be eye level with you.
You hide a surprised squeak as his lips meet yours, eyes widening behind your shades. Just as you decide you should probably respond, he pulls back, cheeks pink under his light spray of freckles.
"Uh..." You blink at him as he speaks, not expecting his voice to be so scratchy, though you guess you shouldn't be surprised with how much Dave says he yells, but it's still... strange. You feel like he might be good at singing without the gruffness of it, but that's more Dave's area of expertise. "Do you want to come inside?"
You stare at him for a long moment before simply getting off your bike and leaning it on a short wall outside. You manage a small smile as you follow him up to the door, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.
You see him glance back at you with a curious look, and you just smile back at him, knowing he wonders if you'll be the one to break the silence this time.
Heh. Maybe later; talking can wait.
A/N: Yup, I cannot apologize enough. Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future... If I stop hating it...
Yeah. I'm sorry ;-;
~Webs