Causalgia
Chapter 1: Pushing Them Away
In the midst of a mild buzz made by a combination of cheap, ineffective alcohol and end-of-the-week excitement (which lasted right up until the point when you recalled your extensive list of burned bridges), it occurred to you: you are lonely, have always been lonely, and, unless something miraculous happens, it looks like you'll be lonely for a long time. As you considered this, you examined the rest of the inhabitants of the bar you usually haunt on Friday nights.
Look at all these fuckasses, smiling and happy and together.
This revelation was punctuated by the robust, drunken singing of some generic 80's hit by the entirety of the bar, and that was just about when you decided it was time to hit the pavement. After slamming some sort of acceptable currency down on the not-too-filthy counter, you managed to shuffle out of the goddamn place and start your 10-block walk home in the mid-winter cold.
As you slowly make your way back, you prod at this idea. You can almost taste it; it's suddenly just overwhelming and you don't even notice that you bump into some poor drunkard in your effort to stay on your feet.
It's just the beer talking; pull yourself the fuck together, Vantas.
This isn't some run-of-the-mill teenage angst bullshit, you are a grown-fucking-man, thank you very much, and you don't identify with those needy, pubescent fucktards, with their complaint rock and their 'woe-is-me' attitudes. No, this stupid feeling, almost like a constant burning right smack dab in the middle of your chest, is something you don't completely understand, nor have any possible desire to.
Then again, it's not really a huge surprise. You've been pushing people away your entire life without realizing it. Even as a little kid, you remember deeming everyone in the world, save you and few others, major fuckasses (you'd always been a fairly….articulate person). You remember not having friends and not caring. It was a lifelong thing, your whole lone wolf perspective. You had several acquaintances, just no best friends. People you could talk to about everything. Who wouldn't mind listening to your extended tangents. Who could offer solace from the crazy world you live in.
It was there, on the snowy sidewalk just four blocks from your apartment, that the final realization hit your mind like a bullet.
Your name is Karkat Vantas ,and you are the loneliest fuckass on this side of the universe.
Your name is Sollux Captor, and you have no clue who this short douchebag is, but he's obviously not in the best of moods.
You turn to yell at him after he almost knocks you right onto your skinny ass, "Hey, watch where you're going, shortstack!" and barely get a couple neurons firing before he's shouting back, "Maybe if you weren't wearing 3-D fucking glasses, asshat, you'd would've been able to avoid careening into me like some kind of runaway stick!"
You reach up and touch the rims of your prized ocular devices then reply, "Fuck you! I can wear whatever the fuck I want! At least I'm taller than a snot-nosed kid!"
He gives a derisive snort, "At least I don't act like one, fucktard!"
And that's when a thought hits your brain like a newly-uploaded wall of coding.
Fuck, this short douchebag's actually kind of….cute.
In a very angry way, of course, as you find out when he's suddenly stomping over to you and pinning you against the brick wall of yet another alcoholic celebration-spot. Your mouth turns up just a tick when you have to look down at him to make eye contact, just a few minute degrees. Then he snaps in front of your face, "Earth to dumbass! Are you even fucking listening to me?"
Oh. He had been moving his mouth in a way resembling speech, albeit more sharp and jagged looking.
"Of course. It's kind of hard not to when one is shoved up against a wall by someone else." you reply, nonchalantly, which appears to piss him off even more, if that's possible. It's kind of endearing, especially when a bright flush springs to his cheeks in response to your added chuckle.
"Oh, shut UP, you miserable cockmunch, I'm TRYING to apologize!" he screams, then he looks over his shoulder as a group of college kids walk by, "What? You have a problem with two acquaintances having a friendly chat? No? Then move the fuck along, asswipes!"
You really can't help yourself, and you laugh, which is sort of uncomfortable when being pinned to a wall by some random, short, angry person. When he finishes his tirade focused at the idiots across the street, he turns back to you, and by that time, your ribs hurt from laughing. He sighs and steps away from you, mumbling something under his breath that sounds like an apology. Your eyes sweep quickly over the messy brown hair, the chocolate eyes with huge bags under them, and the seemingly-permanent scowl that's been etched on his young face from years of practice. You make a decision and hold out your hand, "I'm Sollux."
He glances up at you like you're crazy for talking to him, then tries to overpower your hand in a quick battle of a handshake, "Karkat."
Your name is Sollux Captor, and you've just made one of the most important decisions of your life: knowing the atomic fireball that is Karkat Vantas.