Author's Note: Side-fic to go with the fourth chapter of Observations, though can be read alone, I imagine. I'd recommend reading the accompanying fic, but it's okay if you don't. It's not like it's vital to the plot or anything. Basically, I read "The Fault in Our Stars" a few days after I'd uploaded chapter four of Observations and I fell in love with it and it inspired me to revisit the plot from that chapter and write a oneshot for it.

I apologise in advance if the characters don't seem completely in-character. I'm still getting used to writing for the Homestuck characters.

Beta'd by Lily. Observations can be found here: s/9181568/1/Observations
Accompanies Chapter Four; "UNR3QU1T3D"

Cancer sucks. And not just for all those sentimental reasons you assume most people think it sucks. It's not just the fact your friends and family treat you like a walking time-bomb that sucks. It's not just the knowledge that something inside of you has mutated and could potentially kill you at any given moment. Oh no. It's everything about it that sucks, from your shitty doctor to the glances your brother gives you when he thinks you're not looking to the price of the gas you have to put in your car on the way to the hospital to the sarcastic bastard at the front desk.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and sometime last year- you forget the exact date, though the rest of your family seem to hold it in common knowledge you were diagnosed with leukaemia. Since then, you've been attending chemotherapy at St. Andrew's Hospital. Unfortunately, said hospital is almost half an hour away from your business school, and consequently, not only does the treatment cost a fuckload, but the journey also depletes the pitiful amount you make from working weekends as an assistant in some incredibly tacky retail store. So yeah, in summary, not only does having the cancer itself suck, but everything that comes with it sucks as well.

Today is an especially sucky day to have cancer. Why? Because your asshole doctor isn't in, and no matter how many times you ask the bastard at the front desk, he will not tell you who your session is meant to be with instead. You've made it very clear that someone needs to see you, after all, you haven't driven all the way down here for nothing. But no, the fucker just lisps an uninterested response and slips you snide remark after snide remark until you want to rip out the teeth that are causing his shitty speech impediment. You think you recognise him; after all, there aren't many secondary schools in or near Skaia for those who parents aren't able or willing to pay considerably high entrance and tuition fees. You think he might've been in your Maths class; there was also a kid with a lisp in you computing class. God, was he an asshole, always showing you up and making your coding look like lines of crayon scribbles compared to the delicate lattice of functions he had running across his screen in a spectrum of coloured letters. Name was Castor or some shit and oh, what are the chances, this prick's name tag you happens to read "SOLLUX CAPTOR" in a friendly yellow font that makes the "S" look like a "2" and contradicts the aura he surrounds both himself and the front desk with. Once a dick, always a dick, you guess.

"Look," you state, doing everything in your power to remain calm, but feeling your voice crack somewhat with the strain, "my name is Karkat Vantas, I have a chemotherapy session scheduled for today with Dr Makara-"

"I don't know if you failed to hear me the first two-thousand times, or if you're just stupid," he snarls, "but Dr Makara isn't in today. Your session is going to have to wait."

"No, no it isn't," you respond, your voice beginning its steady crescendo into the volume that you know you won't be able to lower it from, "because I didn't drive all the way down here on a fucking Saturday just to turn around and go back again, so either you tell me who my doctor is for today, or you get the fuck away from that computer and you let me find out myself." You are well aware that by now a considerably larger line of patients has gathered behind you, but neither you nor "2OLLUX CAPTOR" cares. "If you'd care to look it up, my name is Karkat Vantas-"

"Look, Karkat Dipshit," oh God, there he goes, insulting you. He beat you to it, he beat you to the name-calling but at least you beat him to the swearing, and at least you'll beat him with his chair if he doesn't hurry the hell up and tell you which doctor has taken over from Makara today. You hope it's not the one with the glasses and the crooked teeth. He seems slightly too aggressive. "I don't know who you think you are, coming down here and telling me how to do my job-"

"I think I know someone who could do it better than you, obviously," you snap, cutting him off. "I'm also someone who can pronounce my 'inthutths' properly."

You assume bringing up the lisp is a step too far. "2OLLUX CAPTOR"'s tongue darts out from between those protruding teeth and runs across his lips quickly. "You think you could do better?"

"Yeah, actually, I think I could, fucktard. And I think I wouldn't keep a patient with a potentially life-threatening condition waiting for an appointment that could save his fucking life!" His lips flick up at the end, forming a lopsided smile. God, you want to punch his face. "Until you're on the floor screaming for mercy, I doubt your life is actually in danger." "If you'd bothered to look for me in the fucking database, you would see how wrong you are, but no, you chose to argue and allow, not only my health, but the health of all these good people behind me, to deteriorate slowly."

"I think you'll find I'm not the one holding up the line."

"Yeah, and I think you'll find it easier to speak once I knock those teeth from that disgusting facial orifice you consider a mouth!"

Clearly this is when the situation is deemed out of hand, because within moments a tall, handsome woman with high cheekbones and short hair is at the desk, snapping in clear, enunciated words, "Mr Captor, just what is going on here?!"

"2OLLUX CAPTOR" doesn't even acknowledge her. "Is that a threat?" he asks, his pale eyebrows, so blonde they barely stand out against his sunlight-starved skin, rising up his face and into his matted fringe.

"No, it was a fucking invitation to my party next Friday," you glare at him. "Although I wasn't asking you to come; merely your teeth."

The woman talks with a patient in the line, then into a walkie-talkie or something, but you're not paying her attention so you don't know for sure. You're not really focusing on anything much. Hell, you're barely listening to "2OLLUX CAPTOR", you're too busy imagining the feeling of your fist meeting his face in an epic battle scenario.

A smiling ginger woman is suddenly at the desk behind him, her nametag displaying "NEPETA LEIJON" in green. There appears to be a face drawn onto it in Sharpie as well. You are distracted from the retort you're summoning to snarl at "2OLLUX CAPTOR" by her calling, "Can I help anyone?"

Ah. She's there to take "2OLLUX CAPTOR"'s place while he bickers with you. "Look at that," you state, your tone forced and sugary, an over-exaggerated smile playing at your lips, "they've already replaced you! And she speaks perfect English!"

While Sollux spits a few curses at you, you see ":33 NEPETA LEIJON" look down bashfully, blushing somewhat. The tall woman is yelling at the two of you again. She's rubbing her temple and stating, "Captor, I swear to God that if this nonsense does not stop not only will I be speaking to Dr. Kratch about your behaviour but also about your wage," and he's yelling, "See if I care, Maryam! I'm already below the fucking minimum! The lot of you can go to hell for all I care!"

And then you're yelling, "I'll be going to hell a lot sooner than I fucking intend to if you don't tell me which cock-sucking moron at this hospital is going to be taking my session today!"

"I don't give a shit about when you go to hell," this prick is now snarling at you again. "Right now wouldn't be soon enough, you insufferable bastard."

Oh. Oh, now he's done it. Swearing you can handle. Insults you can handle. Jokes about your mother, you can handle. But "insufferable"? No. That's your brother's nickname, and you are not him. "You wanna tell that to my fists, Captor?"

"Are you shitting me? Again with the threats? Don't you have anything better in your arsenal of stupidity to fire at me or is pretending you're gonna hurt me all you've got?" He's smiling. The asshole is smiling, like this is amusing to him.

"Pretending? We'll see who's pretending when your broken body is lying at the bottom of the nearest fucking staircase!"

"Now, I enjoy a good stair-pushing as much as the next girl, but could we schedule it for some other time, because I've got business here right now, and it's a tad more important than that."

And just like that; silence. Suddenly you, "2OLLUX CAPTOR" and the doctor are staring at a petite redhead with an unnerving grin and the weirdest glasses you've ever seen. You hear ":33 NEPETA LEIJON" clear her throat, and begin "Miss, can I-" before catching the doctor signalling her to stop by making slashing gestures with her hands.

"2OLLUX CAPTOR" clears his throat. "TZ," he says, his voice quieter, calmer. "What can I do for you?"

You're wondering what the fuck kind of name Tee Zed is, the possibility that it's her initials not occurring to you, and at the same time listening to her unique, entrancing voice and yes, though you hate to admit it to yourself, just looking at her.

"The usual," she states, and for some reason you're captivated, because there is nothing about this woman that you don't want to admire. "Doc says he wants to see me again next month, but was called out last minute because Queen Serket's throwing a hissy-fit about getting cybernetic implants in her arm again. Asked me to sort it out with reception. So, hello reception, Terezi Pyrope needs an appointment with Doctor Kratch some point next month. "

You run a hand through your hair. The keys click and the mouse clicks and something in the back of your mind clicks as you realise you've got to say something to this woman.

"Another weekend date, right?"

"Unless you can find me a weekday where he's free after five, yeah."

"May fourth alright for you? Doc's not got anything after six."

"Should be fine. Now," she pivots around until she's facing you, "Mr Shouty McStairpusher, you should consider yourself lucky Dr. Maryam didn't throw you out."

"Uh," you're thrown slightly off-guard. You most definitely did not expect her to start talking to you. "Sorry, I guess."

She chuckles. "I like your voice. It's nice. Your face isn't half-bad either."

Great. Perfect. This woman is insane. You're gonna ask a mentally unstable woman out on a date and you don't even care. "Thanks. I, uh, like your glasses."

"An~nd I like your voice a lot more when you're swearing." Her smile is slightly unnerving; you find yourself at a loss to describe it. Behind those weird as hell glasses that you complimented falsely and know she knows you complimented falsely, her eyes flick up and down, looking you over. "It's got this kind of raspy quality to it when you're yelling."

You're almost about to make the mistake of stupidly offering to swear some more for her when "2OLLUX CAPTOR" calls out, "Dr Zahhak."

"What?" Your eyes move from this woman's face to the bi-coloured eyes of the man at the front desk.

"Dr Zahhak will be taking your session for today," he deadpans. "He'll be waiting for you in Ward 33."

So he's finally pulled his fingers out of his asshole and done his job, has he? Fucking prick. "Thanks," you say, not a trace of gratitude in your voice. In fact, you'd go as far as to say your voice is dripping animosity, every negative emotion you can possibly fathom expressed in those six letters.

You're about to head off when a hand wraps itself around your wrist. "Terezi Pyrope," the woman states. "It was nice to meet you."

Your heart skips a beat at her touch. "Karkat Vantas," you reply. "Look, if... if you don't mind waiting 'til I'm done, you wanna go get a coffee or something?"

She smiles. "I'd like that, Karkat Vantas."

...

She orders some weird-ass cherry shit. You just take whatever's on offer and a muffin. You don't really care for coffee. This was probably the stupidest idea ever. But now Terezi Pyrope is sat across from you and looking out of the window with an expression of wonder like she's never seen people before, and her unique smile is plastered on her lips and her glasses are fogging up with the steam from the coffee and wow she has the most ridiculously pretty eyes, not quite blue and not quite green. You have no idea why a woman who seems this wonderful is sat across from you, and you're about to find out if she is as wonderful as she seems. You never really believed in love at first sight, despite how well the media argued it's case, but here you were, living out a scene from some piece of teen-fiction.

"So," her gaze finally turns to you, "what was all that about? With Captor at the front desk?"

"My doctor wasn't in. He wouldn't tell me who I was meant to be seeing instead. I noticed he dropped that when you showed up."

"He's usually uncooperative," she smiles into her drink, "but I don't have to put up with his bullshit."

"Oh yeah?" You take a bit from your muffin and feel your eyebrows raise. "Why not?"

"Sollux and I go way back. Plus, his brother's married to my sister so I get family perks. But enough about that. What were you in for? Ward 33 is for cancer, right?"

You chew faster and nod. "Yeah. I have, uh, leukaemia. I'd rather not get into it."

"Hmm," she looks you over again. "Are you gonna die?"

"Probably not," you shake your head. "But my doctor is a fucking idiot so there's no way I can say that for sure."

"Aren't you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Dying?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I mean, I guess at first I was pretty scared, but I've kind of been putting up with this shit for a year and I've just accepted that it's a possibility, you know? Like, I'm not sure if I give that much of a fuck anymore. Sure, I'd rather not die, but if I do, then I do, that's just the shitty fate picked out for me."

She nods, and your speech comes to an end, it's cadence imperfect. While you're struggling to think of a better way to finish it, she states, "RP."

"What?" She catches you off-guard. You are pulled from your thoughts and meet her gaze.

"'It's what I was in the hospital for," she explains. "Retinitis pigmentosa. RP for short. It's basically a slow deterioration of eyesight. I was born with it, and there's no cure. So I'll probably be blind in a few years."

You feel your eyebrows raise, and repeat her question. "Aren't you scared?"

"Of what, going blind?" She laughs again. You like her laugh. It's real, genuine. Her face moves with the sound, her smile grows and her cheeks grow fuller and her eyes crinkle slightly. "Nah. I've been getting ready for it for... what, seven years now? Besides," she looks you over once again, her lips twisting upwards, and you blush at the flirtatious nature of her new smile. She takes another sip of her coffee before continuing. "I think I've seen everything I need to."

...

You can't look at yourself in the mirror, because when you do you see a tired young adult with hair that he's going to lose and lips that don't smile and teeth that are permanently gritted and eyelids that are almost always half-closed. You're sick and tired of feeling sick and tired and the one person in the world who you can bear to be with is sat across from you, watching you with slowly-worsening eyesight and you have never hated the world more.

"I'm not going to do it anymore," you state, meeting Terezi's gaze. In one hand you hold your car keys, in the other the most recent wad of hair you've shed. "I can't-"

"You can't what? You can't bear to lose your hair?" Her face is expressionless. There's no trace of her usual cheerful playfulness today. "That's a pretty lame reason to stop the treatment that's keeping you alive, Karkat."

"No, Terezi, it isn't," you snap. "It isn't because this isn't just about the hair loss, it's about the whole fucking thing! I'm so goddamn fed up of it! I don't know how much longer this shit intends to go on for, but I'm not taking it anymore! I'm not going to roll over like some fucking animal and just accept that this is the way my life has to work just because some shitty-ass cell in my body thought to itself, "Hey, how can I be the most ignorant fucking piece of shit and ruin this guy's life?" and fucking mutated."

She's calm; too calm. "Wow," she states, blinking. "It must be really hard to have to deal with the fact that there's something wrong with you."

"I-" You don't know what you're going to say, and you don't know what she's going to say, but for some reason, you don't want to hear it.

"No, no," she stands. "Don't justify it to me." She shakes her head, and does that thing where it looks like she laughing, but she's actually just exhaling with anger. "I sometimes forget how much it hurts to be broken, but mendable. Must be really tough, trying to correct all the shit that's wrong with your body."

You're suddenly struck by the idea that you're coming off as selfish, but you're too angry to care. "Terezi, it's not about the fucking treatment-"

"Are those your keys?" She gestures towards your hand. You nod. "Good. We better head to the hospital. You can drive."

She says nothing to you the entire drive there. You sit in an awkward silence you want to break, but could never bring yourself to. When you park, she states, "Dr Makara'll fit us in. I'll make sure of it."

Terezi hates Dr Makara. You've never figured out why. But she sits beside you in his office as he and one of the nurses who usually helps you with the chemotherapy discuss other treatments and she nods because she's listening and she strokes your arm like she can tell you're nervous and you have never been so glad to have another human at your side ever. All the anger she must have felt towards you must be gone because her touch is gentle. Even though you're still mad and you yell, she and everyone else in the room keep their cool. She's the one who smiles graciously and accepts some leaflets and thanks Makara for his time after you almost storm out of the office and she's the one who pulls you to the side after you leave and says, "Karkat, please, don't stop the treatment."

You brush your fringe out of your face. "I'm scared, Terezi," you admit, quietly. She strokes your hand softly, moving her thumb in comforting circles around the skin.

"So am I, Karkat, scared of losing my sight, scared of losing you." She's smiling and her voice is wavering and god no please don't cry because if she cries you'll cry and you don't want to cry, not here, not now.

"I don't want that to happen either," you pull her closer, wrap your arms around her and rest your head on her shoulder. "But-"

"If you're worried about your hair falling out, don't be," she states, cutting you off. "It won't affect anything. None of your friends will care. I certainly won't." She feels you stiffen. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Because if it is, you're fucking wrong, Karkat. I'm not going to love you any less because you're bald. It's not like I can see it anyway. Doc says if my eyesight continues to deteriorate at its current rate, I'll be blind in a year or two."

You freeze again before pushing her away slightly. You hold her by her shoulders and look her in the eye, in those beautiful teal eyes that show no hint of imperfection, no sign of failure, and mumble, "You didn't tell me that."

She chuckles. "I didn't want to get in the way of your hair crisis." Oh shit she is crying. You can't take that, try to look away don't let your eyes water up, nope. "Look, Karkat, the thing is, my world is gonna be dark enough when I go blind, but you were going to be my light. I don't want to live in a world of pitch black, a world where I can't see for shit and you're dead, buried six foot underground in some cemetery where I can't even mourn you properly, because someone will have to drive and guide me to your goddam grave. So we're not going to live in that world, okay?"

You nod, and wipe away her tears before wiping away yours because goddamn it you are crying. "Okay," you croak out, your voice wavering. She throws her arms around you again, buries herself in your chest and you hear her ask if that means you're going to continue with the treatment, even though her voice is muffled somewhat by your shirt.

"Yeah, I'll continue with the treatment, at least until the end of the year," you promise. "We'll see where it goes from there."

...

"Well, who'd thought we'd end up here, eh?"

"Not me. When I told some asshole to leave the hospital because his doctor wasn't in, I did not ever consider I would be his best man."

"It's your own fault, you insufferable prick. You shouldn't have introduced him to your sister-in-law."

"You say it like I did it on purpose."

"Oh, what, and you didn't become my best friend on purpose?"

"KK, please don't bring out the f-word. I'm still processing this relationship."

"Seriously? We've been fucking drinking buddies for what, a year now?"

"You're really gonna swear in a church, KK? Are you that confident you're getting into heaven?"

Your name is Karkat Vantas. You are twenty-three years old, and have been NED for approximately sixteen months. Today, though, has nothing to do with that. Today is the day you marry Terezi Pyrope.

Your hands are sweaty and shaking, and beside you, Sollux Captor, who somehow ended up being your best friend and best man, is mouthing a silent conversation to his plus one, a pretty doctor from the hospital he works at, who you know is engaged to someone who isn't him. You also know that person isn't here today. Every now and again, he'll tell you to calm down in some condescending and prick-ish way, but that's just what you get for asking a condescending prick to be your best man. You have no idea why you asked him, but it's too late to change your mind now. You're just going to have to regret the decision for the rest of your life.

Your shaking stops, or at least appears to when everyone rises, and you realise that this is it. This is happening. This is happening right now. You are marrying Terezi Pyrope and you have to keep your head facing forward because that's how it works. You've seen enough rom-coms and chick flicks to know this, and you've forced her to watch enough rom-coms and chick flicks to make sure she knew it.

She's beside you. Her breathing is deep and heavy, like she's going to cry or pass out or both. You wonder if she'll still be able to say her vows if she's hyperventilating. Your dark eyes drift over to where she stands and you inhale sharply.

You've never seen anything more beautiful than her. Those perfect teal eyes that hide her blindness so well stare straight ahead, and she's trying to keep her face straight, but you can tell by the way the corners of her mouth twitch and the way her lips quiver that she's desperate to smile and laugh and show the world how happy she is. Deciding you can get away with a quick whisper, you mumble, "You look amazing," to her. She cracks, that smile only making her more perfect in your eyes.

"You've got my sister to thank for that," she mutters in response, reaching for your hand. "I'd comment on your appearance, but I don't hold out much hope for it. You always did like to dress a little too casually."

You let out a tiny laugh and lead her forwards slightly, making a mental note to allow her to run her hands over your freshly pressed suit, the perfectly tied bow-tie, the scratchy-yet-soft shirt. You'll have to let her smell the flower both you and Sollux have pinned in your buttonholes. You forget its name, but chose it based on its colour; bright red, her favourite.

You hold her hand all the way through the service. You can't take your eyes off of her, and monitor every tiny change of emotion, every thought expressed through minuscule movements in her face. You've prepared your own vows. You don't know why. You probably just wanted to prove to everyone what a sappy fuck you are. Man, a lifetime's worth of shitty romance novels was bound to affect you eventually.

Your hands get more and more sweaty the closer it gets to reading your vows. You know she can feel it, you worry it's disgusting her, but you're nervous. You don't want to fuck up. You've spent too much of your life fucking up. Now is your time to get it right. Make it poetic, romantic, something everyone here will remember. Something Terezi will remember for the rest of her life. Your eyes flick to Sollux momentarily, and he quickly changes his bored, uninterested expression into the most lame-ass excuse for a fake smile you've ever seen. You sigh, and reach into your back pocket. No, it's not very professional, but you don't care. You want to make it right. It's not like Terezi can see you reading from this sheet of crumpled notebook paper anyway, and even if she could, you don't think she'd mind.

"Three years ago, you and I were in freefall; both of us travelling a collision course at a catastrophic speed. Our destinations were different, our paths never designed to meet. But somehow, despite that, they did. Maybe gravity was different in the part of space one of us was travelling in, maybe the other reached terminal velocity and couldn't go any faster, maybe someone redesigned the paths. We'll never know. But the fact is, some chain of events broke, something changed, and the two of us did crash; not into our destination, but into each other. And I have to say, for something so small, you crashed into me with a lot of force. I was dented, broken after the collision. I knew I needed to meet you again and again, because you changed me. And now, I'm going to change your last name.

I know that, in your world, things are dark and scary. I hate to call myself a knight in shining armour, but that's what I intend to be. Whenever it gets too dark or too scary and you can't handle it, I want to be there. And now, with the ring and this bond, I will be."

She's crying. She's crying and smiling and she's never looked more beautiful and two words are exchanged between the two of you.

She's kissing you, and you can feel the warmth of her tears on your cheeks and you're crying too because she's yours and she always will be. No matter how dark her world gets, you're going to be her light. You're going to be there for her, every step of the way, you'll illuminate all those hard to reach places, every nook and cranny and you'll never stop, you'll never dim.

She pulls away and she's smiling and laughing and crying and her cheeks are stained and salty and she has never looked better. You want to tell her how amazing she is , how wonderful she looks, but instead you just stare in silence and admire her. You take it all in. You watch her happiness.

Your only wish is that she could watch yours too.