BE KARKAT.
It was the first time that you'd ever actually seen him in class, or in general, really. Gamzee Makara had finally made his first appearance in school; clad in baggy black jeans and a dark purple t-shirt, he attentively slept on a heap of lime green fabric bundled on his desk. His hair was a mess and cascaded lazily around his face and strayed down his neck, you wondered absent minded-ly why the school hadn't just expelled the dumbfuck for actually showing up.
"Uh, Gamzee!"
Oh. Looks like somebody actually looked forward to seeing him,
"I'm glad that you, uh, came today... and uh, bro, you know it would be awesome if you would come tomorrow too, uh, or, you know, if you'd like."
Fucking Tavros. Of course, you recall, Tavros and Gamzee are best 'bros' after all. You wonder why in the fuck anyone would want a useless friend like Gamzee.
"Man, Tav, I've been feelin' motherfuckin' awful bro."
Yeah for three fucking months, fuckass.
"Well what's wrong, uh, bro?" Tavros genuinely was worried, chocolate eyes glistening, "You haven't called, or texted."
"Man Tav, I feel awful cause I have to tell you this but, bro it's nothin' a motherfucker can help me with."
Tavros gripped the wheels of his wheelchair, flushing a little, "It's okay, Gamz."
You cease listening to the conversation after your teacher enters the classroom, now fully focused on school you tune out any other shenanigans.
12 o'clock, on the dot- lunch.
You walk outside to the back of the school. It's nice outside; the sky is a pale blue, almost grey. This week's forecast predicted heavy showers over the weekend, not that you mind; rain is nice during the summer. As usual the surrounding areas behind the school seem empty, it's a little windy so you decide to sit at one of the tables inside the school trail instead of the ones against the back wall. Just as you begin to bit into your tuna sandwich you get the feeling that you're not alone.
And you're not.
Maybe ten feet or so, in front of you lies a sleeping Gamzee Makara, all (what seemed like) six foot and five inches of him. His chest rises softly with his slow breathing, in his right hand is a bottle of orange soda called 'Faygo', he was still using his bright green hoodie as a pillow and every so often the wind would blow and ruffle his curly hair. The long cascading strands get stuck on the bark of the tree he uses to support his lanky body.
You begin to eat your sandwich.
You wonder if he realizes that someone could just snatch his phone out of his lap, but upon noticing what kind of phone it is you scratch the thought. The sun creeps out from behind the clouds and reveals a shining trail of drool in the corner of his mouth. Ew.
Picking up your brown paper bag you finish the last bits of the tuna sandwich and head back to class- the bell had rung.
"Has anyone seen Gamzee?"
It was something that both his math teacher and Tavros wanted to know, you don't answer though, it'd be a waste of time. The minute hand on the clock ticks by, slowly.
"Karkat?"
You look up, the teacher is calling you.
"What?"
"Your math grade has fallen to a 76 from a 93 within two weeks." She scratches her brow, "Anything wrong?"
"No." You practically spit, it's nothing she'd understand,
"Well your grade is extremely important, especially since your a very popular name here at Murberry, I want you to succeed the next two years, so I'm requesting," the snob puts emphasis on the word, "that you study and be tutored by a peer."
You are seething silently.
"He's possibly the smartest student I've ever had, and very respected, he's easygoing and a little strange but you two should get along fine. Also, I've already contacted your father."
If this asshat, under any circumstance says E-
"Oh, there you are Gamzee, come here a second!"
Your brain is now most certainly part of your left ass cheek. You become lightheaded as you feel Gamzee's presence grow more overwhelming as he drags himself towards the teacher's desk.
"Hey there Karkat, how's it going sis?"
"Everything is going fine Gamzee," she smiles brightly at the sleezeball before continuing, "remember how I mentioned you helping out one of the underclassmen?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember that." He coughs a little,
"Well this is Karkat Vantas and I would like you to tutor him-"
FOR THE REST OF THE SEMESTER.
Your shit has officially hit the fan and taken your brain right along with it, at this point there is only so much English that you can muster before exploding into a parallelogram of omnipotent rage and annihilating Murberry College for all of the fuck that it is not worth. Gamzee is standing right next to you and looking DOWN at you like you are some sort of KITTEN and you try your hardest not to kick him in his throat and make his regurgitate whatever weed this fuckbucket has been eating- or smoking, or whatever. You spend the rest of your day WALKING HOME, and muttering like A MENTAL PATIENT all the way there. There are so many things that DO NOT MAKE SENSE, how in the fuck could Gamzee be a top scoring student if he cannot even show up to school and function for A WHOLE DAY. This is college damnit, college, yeah sure it's different from most and you have smaller classes because there are only so many other people with your caliber of genius, BUT THIS IS COLLEGE, and you do not see TUTOR in the equation that is COLLEGE. On top of that you can smell the WEED on EVERY SINGLE INCH of his body, STONERS CANNOT EVEN GRASP THE CONCEPT OF REALITY BECAUSE THEY LIVE IN A DRUG INDUCED STATE OF MIND. You punch the wall as you make your way up the stairs and cry out at the pain. Pathetically holding your fist in your hand you pull your phone from your pocket to answer a message:
'Hahahah... Gamzee Makara, is your fucking tutor? Oh man, Karkat, I thought you were at least intelligent and not just a small fucking eyesore, but boyyy was I wrong. See you tomorrow fucker.'
Your mood goes from infuriated to terrified.
Not only is Gamzee Makara, Bob Marley's legacy and prophet, your tutor (who you still could not grasp had any sort of academic knowledge whatsoever) but the world's last legitimate bully, who for some reason was only interested in harassing Karkat Vantas, knew.
Now Jack could beat you up while singing Reggae tunes.
Fucking great.
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...or should this end here?