"Are we there yet?" Karkat Vantas grumbled as he wearily fiddled with his grey seat belt.

"For the last time, no," His father, Mr. Vantas, responded with his voice sharp with irritation. "Just be patient. I said this ride was going to be a long one, didn't I? It's only been, like what, half an hour already? If you haven't noticed, Karkat, is that a long ride takes more than thirty minutes."

"In your twisted up definition," Karkat said. "If you haven't noticed, driving for thirty minutes sure does count as a long ride."

"In your definition, not mine."

Karkat clenched his jaw and made a soft, frustrated hissing sound. The back of his head was starting to throb, and he knew that he'll get another bad headache soon if he kept bitching at this rate. His eyes glanced at his father, prepared to dish out an angry face, only to make eye contact with the back of the tan seat his father was sitting in. Of course, he forgot once again that his father still made him sit in the passenger seat (imagine the embarrassment of carpooling) but he tried to make the best of it by pretending his father was a chauffeur.

"I could be doing things right now," He said, trying to pick up the conversation after a moment of silence. "I could be sticking my nose in a fucking cave, proceed to start bellowing like some kind of moronic jackass that flunked second grade, and then burn off some excellent fat by running for dear life as a bear that just woke up fresh from hibernation starts chasing me around town like some kind of sick stalker. Oh, and here's the plot twist: It would be hell of a lot better than sitting around in his van for even thirty minutes, dad."

Karkat could hear his father sighing, maybe with a bit of exaggerated anger, as he himself was huffing and puffing after delivering that long speech.

When they finally made it to a red light, Mr. Vantas turned around to glare at his son. Unlike Karkat, who can give you the most terrifying mad look ever as if the devil himself granted him the curse of everlasting damnation, Mr. Vantas was much too forgiving and often times give you a soft look rather than an angry one. Just like in this case right now.

Mr. Vantas had a rather pale pinkish complexion, as if walking outside into the sun was a special occasion. His hair was very light, but it had a hint of yellow that gave it the color of the palest and softest underbelly of a yellow duck… or, at least, that's how Karkat could describe it.

Karkat, unfortunately related to this man, has his fair share of albinism. Although, thanking god that his father didn't have sex with some albino chick, Karkat obtained some more color from his mother. He had a so-so complexion; still kind of pale but much more livelier than his father, although he had terrible bags under his eyes due to him staying up way too late at night. Karkat's hair was pale like his father's too, a light yellow but more concentrated. Actually, it was more of a dirty yellow, slightly brown, but you wouldn't be able to tell because Karkat dyed his hair black on a daily basis. He found his hair to be of a disgusting hue, and his father stopped nagging him about "being ashamed of his body".

Despite all of that, both of them had very distinguished eyes… blue ones, that is. There might two reasons why you would stop and stare at them: 1) They were very pretty eyes, like a lovely ocean blue. 2) If you ever heard them say they're albino, chances are you might and gawk at them because holy shit you thought albinos were suppose to have red eyes. Karkat would had considered putting in some contact lenses too, but he figured it was better to have some blue eyes than stereotypical red eyes. (Plus, the idea of sticking something into his eyes was bit nerve wrecking, admittedly).

"Just calm down for a second," Mr. Vantas started with a soft voice. "I know that-"

"It's been a second," Karkat interjected.

"I didn't mean it literally," His father said, but didn't have to time to continue what he was saying because the lights turned green. Turning around so he could keep his eyes on the road, he mumbled, "Why do I even bother?"

"Why are you even trying?" Karkat asked, although he was well aware of the fact that his father may had just been thinking out loud. He turned his head to stare out of the window, but not quite paying attention to the scenery. "You could had ditched me at home and not hit the wheels as fast as this gas guzzling, disgusting pile of manure can go. Which isn't that far, by the way."

"It's just a regular can, Karkat. This baby had been around much longer than you have, and it at least didn't complain nearly as half as you did." Mr. Vantas patted the dashboard in such a way that Karkat could swear it was with fondness, much to his disgust. "Besides, I love you too much to do that."

"Unfortunately."

"I really mean it," Mr. Vantas said firmly. "If I didn't love you that much, then I wouldn't had decided to move us to a nicer place just to raise you better." He made a small smile that Karkat couldn't see from behind. "Which reminds me, I should give you another talk about that dirty mouth of yours, Karkat. You could be offending people all the way to China."

"You could be offending people by being so judgmental!" Karkat snapped, but didn't say anything else. Mr. Vantas had been known for his infamous talks and lectures. It would be an understatement of the century to say they were endless. Karkat was smart enough to avoid triggering them. Instead, he just looked around the van to let his mind wonder on something else.

The van was pretty spacey. Even with most of their luggage and boxes in the trunk, some also sitting on the passenger seat with Karkat, he still had enough room to stretch and be comfortable.

You would think that if his father bought a van with his much room, it would be full of his kids that he would lovingly drop off at school or something. Sadly, that was not that case. Karkat was the only child he had, or that's what he liked to think. He actually had an older brother named Kankri, but he was off to college. Karkat actually liked to think that he or Kankri wasn't really related, because holy crap how the hell could he be related to some moron that spends every waking minute doing political speeches?

Karkat looked at the box nearest to him. It was labeled "BOOKS". Although he enjoying lazing around with a thick book in his hands, he was wary of reading them in a moving car, where he would get car sick and nauseas. He did considered pulling out of his cheesy, romantic novels (he secretly was a romantic nut and was very passionate about it) but then decided against it.

Instead, his stuck his hand inside one of the pockets of his messenger bag that was temporarily packed with his belongings. He pulled out some old headphones that were black. When he first got it, which was a few years back, he spent the extra money customizing them with a red cancer sign on the sides, since that was his zodiac sign. He stuck his hand inside the bag again to retrieve his equally old MP3 player, which was ridiculously crappy.

Pulling the headphones to his MP3 and turning it on, Karkat slipped the headphones over his head. He slouched against his seat and stared mindless into space while listening to his music.

He spent the next couple of minutes imagining a story behind all of his songs he was listening to before his heavy eye lids finally closed.