Chapter 1

And then he lay there, the sunlight peeking through the cheap blinds, illuminating the smaller's cheekbones, and the whisper of stubble, and the curve of his nose, and the freckles dotted

here

and there

and here.

The beauty of the boy next to me, the beauty of the memory of the moment we shared the night before, and the moment we were sharing right now, right here, in this place and at this time, caused this heat to grow inside me, and the heat travelled up, up,up
inside me, and the smile on my face came too quickly and I smiled into the Sunday afternoon he and I had found ourselves in, together, his breathing even and quiet as he slept away, my breathing quick and almost catching as I thought of the heat inside me and the heat he had brought and him.

Should I have the ability of time, and the power to freeze it, I would have, right here, right now.

I gently twirled a piece of his hair between my forefinger and thumb, absent-mindedly watching his chest lift with each breath, and feeling his warmth against my arm and wanting nothing more than to hold him, and to keep him safe, oh so safe.

However, time waits for no man - I know this more than anyone, and before I knew it, he had awoken, and he had begun to get dressed.

He had refused the breakfast offered, refused any more time spent with me, refused looking me in the eyes, grabbed his things, and he was gone.

And as the fire left, the sun seemed to leave with him, and the cold seemed to creep into the apartment, return to me. For the cold never left, the cold was always there, and the fire had merely engulfed it. And I was left alone.

The sun was too bright and obtrusive, as you walked down the small alley, and you wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his welcoming arms, to hold those cold hands in yours and to cool off because everything was hot, too hot for you to handle, the heat inside was burning strong and strong and you didn't want that.

If this was love, if this was the feeling of love, and all the rumors of love and how love was and how good love was, and how much love is needed and how you know when you're in love, and if they're in love with you, then you didn't want to know.

You didn't want love.

The Vantas family lived in a medium sized bungalow, which was on the edge of the outskirts of the main town, not quite in the middle of nowhere. It sat in a row of other medium bungalows, which were across from another row of bungalows. The house looked the same when you looked past the colour, which was bright red; grabbing the attention of anyone who walked past.

"It makes us different, exciting!" Your dad had said, when you first moved here. He had red paint on his clothes and his skin, and a gleam in his eye, the one he got whenever he had decided to do something 'exciting'.

"But why do we have to be 'different?" The seven year old you had moaned. You had just moved here and you just wanted to fit in. Of course, that wasn't going to happen with your father around.

"Don't be so boring Karkat!" Chirping in, your brother Kankri had spoken before your dad could, and he infuriated you even more.

"See," Dad smiled at Kankri, his voice loud and powerful, demanding respect. "Why can't you be like your brother huh? Grab a paintbrush and have some fun!" Demeaningly, he painted Karkat's nose with a speck of red, swiping his paintbrush across it in a way that was supposed to be playfully. You looked up at him, feeling your face go as red as the paint, and ran inside, locking yourself in your room, crying in frustration. You wished nothing more to be NORMAL.

10 years later, and the house still shone red, and you were still filled with frustration and the need to be normal. Of course, that need would never be filled. Once the kids at school had seen the bright red house, and the dark circles that sat on your eyes, and the dull, grey clothing you wore, you were forever blessed as the 'weird' kid. Nowadays, you didn't really mind. People brought feelings, feelings brought fights and frustration and an endless list of responsibilities. Unusually, your brother was the opposite: a social butterfly, always 'looking out for others'. Or so he made it out to be, when really he was the most two faced person you could meet.

You stood in the front garden, dreading seeing the rest of your family, and the questions they asked. "Where have you been?", "Why haven't you phoned?", etc, etc, etc. Sometimes it was ok, if you were quick enough, you could run down the corridor quick enough, hide yourself in your room and sneak food long after they had all fallen asleep. Sometimes, the Maryams were around for tea, and they were pretty chill. You'd hang out and chat with Kanaya - something that didn't really happen off of the web, since you and her went to different schools. However, these visits were rare. Sometimes, your Dad would be at one of his raleys, trying to solve one problem or another. Sometimes it was ok.

Today didn't end up ok. You strode into the house, locking the door behind you. Taking off your shoes and coat, you had a fleeting hope that maybe, somehow, you could make it. The door of your room, the door that had slight marks in it, from the kicking and punching it endured, was looking at you. And you were looking at it. And you were going to make it, just had to run. Just had to keep going down the corridor, there's the front room oh god oh no he's seen you just keep wal-

"KARKAT VANTAS. HERE. NOW." The voice echoed from the walls, filled with a demand of respect. Damn it.

Shuffling back to the front room, you tried your hardest to ignore the multitude of family portraits that adorned the walls in what seemed like every corner. What an embarrassment. You looked him straight in the eye, when you got there, and you said, in your calmest tone:
"Yes sir?"

Of course, that wasn't enough. After half an hour of badgering and moaning and nagging, you were free to leave, to escape, to the room you did escape to, your bedroom. The tears were inevitable, and so was the rage that built up inside you, escaping through the heat on your face and the clenching of your fists. The tears almost stung your face. You didn't know what you were most angry at: the 'father' you were dumped with, the fact that you'd never be normal, that you'd have to face school tomorrow, or the way this all affected you so much it pushed you to feel like this.

Or the feelings you felt for Strider, and the night you had just spent together.