Hi there! This is my first fic in a while so please rate and review; let me know what you think!

vacilando (Spanish) - to travel with the knowledge that the journey is more important than reaching a destination

Karkat sat very still in the train. The train shook and creaked and twitched as it rolled over overused tracks, burdened with who knows how many people looking to get from one place to the other, namely from the barely recognized suburbs to downtown NYC, and Karkat Vantas. But he was invisible here, so it didn't matter yet.

That was one reason he chose to get on the bus to the middle of nowhere from his forsaken home in New Jersey. Innumerable were the reasons he chose to get on the bus from New Jersey, though. The primary reason, though he wish he could have been running away from his broken home, the motherless unit with the drunken father, too high to recognize his son as he left, was school. NYU with a free ride, save for book fees, was a good enough reason to hop on a bus, but he was way happier about it than he should have been. The bruise on his back, closer to his right near his hip, was a pretty good reason too.

Though he was a law major, Karkat didn't really care about studying. He had a natural knack for arguing, really. Okay, understatement. He really liked to argue and it got his ass in a lot of unfortunate situations (not literally). The bruise on his back was a good example of those situations. The scratch on his face was one too, but that was fading now so he didn't count that. People frowned on his decisions too. He just graduated, a valedictorian and all that great stuff, but the high school wasn't so great and he easily aced everything, not knowing how others didn't…But law, to others was a waste of time. Law is not a waste of time; he seethed when his father slurred an insult to his life choices. His father pointed to him with a bottle of something unlabeled, leaning on the white fridge as he shouted incoherently. Karkat always just stood there, fists tight, his knuckles whitening and, more often than not, his fingernails drawing blood in his palm.

The train was a terrible place to be. Penn station was a terrible place to be. Crowded but not by anyone who wanted to be there, just a step in the road people wanted to take. For Karkat, it was just that: a step. Towards what, he hadn't quite decided yet. He didn't really need to decide that just yet. All he needed to do was get out at a station, transfer over to another train, hopefully end up near the university, and find his dorms.

The train ride was slow and bumpy, and no one really tried to talk to anyone. Karkat sat alone, a book on his lap being not read but stared at. The book was coincidentally about a boy who ran away to a beach town but he wasn't far enough to be able to tell any other details. Only that the boy ran away. He didn't think he'd ever actually finish the book, or even read past chapter 1.

The train halted at the station – Karkat missed the name – and people shuffled out, aggressively so. Shoving, yelling, pushing, tripping. Karkat slithered between businessmen and businesswomen, aggressive tourists and their families, among others, his tousled black hair beyond tousled at this point. He clutched his black backpack and worn-out book, pushing his way out of the grey station and climbing stone stairs covered in pigeon shit and empty wrappers and crushed cans. Karkat held his breath.

The bustling city was alive at 11:46 PM, so unlike his town where there was nowhere to run to when his father had one to many bottles of beer and was feeling strong. He shook the thought away and took in everything around him. The streets were full, businesses open, people everywhere getting from bars to restaurants to homes to schools to businesses. The glow of the moon fell over his face as he looked towards the artificial lights, the neons and fading vintage looking signs. The awe of it all fell heavy on his lips, as he struggled to let out a gasp at the world around him, the new world he was in. The new world he now called home and definitely didn't want to ever let go of.

His house, his so called father, his horrors, his history all seemed so far behind him. People flowed out from the doors behind him, looking at him as he just stood there, but only for a fleeting moment because he was invisible in this vast city. The gusts from passing cars made his eyes water. The sounds of people made his ears hurt. The weight of his backpack weighed down on his hunched shoulders.

Karkat didn't care if he ever got to the school now. He basked in the night air as he hailed a taxi to take him towards the university, but that's not where he intended to spend his night. For Karkat, it was time to wander. He paid the taxi driver, acknowledging him fleetingly with a dazed "good night" and heading out of the car, nearly tripping as he absentmindedly grabbed a campus map and, as if on auto drive, stumbled to the dormitory building across the street, running (had he been running? He didn't even know) unapologetically into a really skinny dude with 3D glasses on, who shouted a "FUCK YOU" back towards him as he watched Karkat disappear into the building he had just emerged from. The dude with the 3D glasses shrugged and walked off towards the dollar store to get some Faygo, knowing that the weirdo was going into his hall anyway. But he couldn't shake the unworldly feeling that the messy hair spacey guy would actually be someone of importance.

Nah.