My name is Karkat Vantas, and this is me, re-evaluating my life because my decisions have been pretty questionable so far and I'm not exactly sure where I went wrong; but I fucked up pretty bad and I'd like to know where this knot begins before I try to untangle it.

I'm sure future-me is going to hate past me (present me, typing this right now) because, well, I'm a pretty fucking stupid guy. But I guess he can at least give me some credit. I tried.

But anyway. Like I said, I'm Karkat Vantas. I'm nineteen years old, and I'm moving into an apartment with a Paranoid Schizophrenic, ex-pothead. I spent my days working my fingers to the bone, and listening to my friends complain about their sex lives while continuously being shot down by the girl I've loved since high school.

And this is only the beginning.

I woke up to a crick in my neck and a draft breezing across my belly. It's needless to say, then, that I did not wake up pretty fucking happy.

My head felt flat from laying against the hardwood floor all night, but at least someone had thrown a blanket over me – so even if I had kicked it off and across the room, I wasn't forgotten about.

On the couch above me, someone snored. A certain someone with dark skin and a mess of black hair, wearing spotted pajama pants and an old, raggy looking tee-shirt. Someone with white paint still crusted around the edges of his face, because God knows he can't get anything done without my fucking help.

I forced myself off of his floor and to the bathroom to take my first leak of the day. To be honest, I was really getting fucking sick of waking up on his floor. The bastard didn't even have a bed; he slept on his own couch. So I always ended up on the floor. And with the amount I stayed over, that was pretty often. So as I washed my hands I couldn't help but to let the thought flutter around my head for a few minutes.

And by flutter, I mean buzz. Like a hive of angry hornets.

I should just move in with the bastard.

When I waltzed back into the living room to stride to the kitchen and raid his pantry for all the cereal it's worth, I wasn't expecting him to be awake so early. He normally slept pretty inconsistent hours, but I figured he'd be out like a light for at least half of the day. Especially after the seven hour long feelings jam we had last night.

"What the mother fuck is up, my best friend?"

His voice was similar to a sluggish drawl, sort of throaty and a bit like a growl. He stared at me with a glossy expression on his face, bangs hanging in front of his eyes as he propped himself up against his pillow and tossed the blanket from his torso and into his lap. At least he didn't look disturbed. I'd take a sleepy, distant Gamzee over a disturbed, panicked Gamzee any day.

"For the amount I fucking sleep here, Gamzee, we should just move in. This is getting to be a pain in the ass. And by ass, I mean my back. Thanks for the scoliosis, fuckass."

He seemed to ponder by empty insult thoughtfully. Which was weird. Gamzee never did anything thoughtfully. Especially this early in the morning. Which is why, instead of searching for the cereal I knew he had somewhere in this garbage dump of a kitchen, I eyed him. He didn't look like the kind of thoughtful someone-you-can't-see-is-talking-to-me, which was good and becoming less frequent now.

"So why don't we?"

I stared at him. His words were pretty vague, and he didn't seem to be insinuating anything that could help me figure it out with context clues. So I snorted, clearing my throat and scratching idly at my collarbone from beneath my turtleneck. I fucking hated winter.

"Don't we what?"
"Move in together. Like you said, my brother."
I paused, taking a moment to process exactly it was he was saying before I responded.
"Gamzee, that idea is so fucked up I don't even think you could use your Schizophrenia as an excuse for it."
"Aw, why the fuck not? It'd be fun, bro. We could, like, have late-night feelings jams and roll in the horn pile without havin' to worry about how you're gettin' home in time for work, or whatever the fuck. It'd be sick." He answered almost right away, as if he had thought about it before.

I mean, it made sense. As fucked up as it was, he was actually making sense. I could make rent. I'd been doing it for a while now. It was rough, having to juggle work and classes, but I had been doing good so far if I do say so myself.

So, long story short, this is how I became room-mates with a formerly marijuana dependent paranoid Schizophrenic with a kink for facepaint, an infatuation with clowns and ICP, and an urge to draw and paint on just about every available surface in the house. It was much like having a four year old child, minus the potty training.

Thank God for the little things, I guess.

- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] -

carcinoGeneticist: SO, YEAH. NOW I'M APARTMENT SEARCHING. AND HE'S SITTING NEXT TO ME WATCHING FUCKING DISCOVERY CHANNEL AND EATING MACARONI AND CHEESE.

grimAuxiliatrix: And Have You Any Idea As How You're Both Going To Pay Rent And Other Necessary Fees?

carcinoGeneticist: STILL WORKING ON THAT. I MEAN, I CAN WORK. I AM WORKING. AND FROM MY UNDERSTANDING HE HAS SOME INHERITANCE FUND, OR SOME SHIT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH IS IN IT, BUT HE PROMISED THAT HE'D GO TO THE BANK WITH ME SO WE CAN CHECK AND SEE HOW EXACTLY WE'RE DOING THIS THING. FROM WHAT HE'S SAYING IT SOUNDS LIKE HE HAS A PRETTY NICE CHUNK, THOUGH. SO I WAS THINKING THAT, LIKE, MY PAYCHECK COULD GO TOWARD FOOD AND TRAVEL AND SHIT, AND HIS BANK ACCOUNT COULD PAY THE RENT.

grimAuxiliatrix: I Suppose That Would Be For The Best. Especially Considering Recent Developments. And, Speaking Of Such, How Has He Been Doing?

carcinoGeneticist: OKAY, I GUESS. I MEAN, HE STOPPED SCREAMING AT THE WALLS A FEW DAYS AGO. THAT'S A PLUS. I THINK.

carcinoGeneticist: HE STILL SOMETIMES TURNS LIKE SOMEONE'S CALLED HIM, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T. AND SOMETIMES HE'LL MUTTER TO HIMSELF, OR AVOID CERTAIN PARTS OF THE APARTMENT. OR HIDE HIS STUFF SO "THEY" DON'T FIND IT. BUT IT'S BECOMING LESS FREQUENT. I ONLY HAD TO DRAG HIM OUT FROM BEHIND THE CURTAINS TWICE LAST NIGHT. AND HE DIDN'T EVEN PUT UP THAT MUCH OF A STRUGGLE.

grimAuxiliatrix: A Slow And Steady Process, Then.

carcinoGeneticist: YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE HALF OF IT. BUT IT'S GETTING BETTER. I HAVE TO TAKE HIM IN TO GO OVER THE DOSAGE AND ALL THAT SHIT SOMETIME THIS WEEK. HIS DOCTOR WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE'S TAKING TO IT WELL AND IT WON'T JUST, LIKE, BUILD UP RESISTANCE IN HIS BODY, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK. THE SIDE EFFECTS ARE WEARING OFF, THOUGH.

grimAuxiliatrix: Side Effects? Such As… ?

carcinoGeneticist: SLEEPING FOR A LONG TIME. TWITCHING. MOODINESS. I DON'T KNOW, NORMAL SIDE EFFECTS THAT COME ALONG WHENEVER SOMEONES PUT ON A NEW MEDICATION? I DIDN'T READ THE LABEL OF THE BOTTLE AND MEMORIZE EVERY FUCKING WARNING ON THAT THING.

carcinoGeneticist: MAYBE BEFORE MY NEXT TEST I'LL USE IT TO FUCKING STUDY FROM, THOUGH. SEEMS LIKE A GOOD SOURCE OF SHOWY VOCABULARY I COULD USE TO IMPRESS THE FUCKWADS IN MY CLASS. THEY'D PROBABLY GAPE LIKE FISH OUT OF WATER AND ASK ME FOR MY AUTOGRAPH OR SOMETHING. EVEN IF I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I'M SAYING AND JUST ACT LIKE I DO.

grimAuxiliatrix: Well, Regardless, It Is Good That You're There For Him, Karkat. He Needs A Friend. Especially A Friend Who Can, And Has, Helped Him As Much As You Have.

carcinoGeneticist: I FIGURED, WHY WOULD I FUCKING GIVE UP AND THROW IN THE TOWEL NOW, AFTER EVERYTHING ELSE I'VE ALREADY DONE? IT WOULD'VE BEEN FUCKING STUPID. SO I MIGHT AS WELL JUST CONTINUE. FUCK IT.

grimAuxiliatrix: If That Is How You See It, I Suppose It Works. I Wish You Luck On Your Apartment Hunting, Though. I Will Keep An Eye Out For Any Promising Spaces For Rent On My Routes To Work, Class, And Other Destinations.

carcinoGeneticist:YEAH, THANKS. I APPRECIATE IT. NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE A GROWN MAN TUGGING AT MY SLEEVE AND POINTING TO THE TELEVISION FOR SOME REASON. I HAVE A FEELING IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG NIGHT.

grimAuxiliatrix: Goodnight, Karkat.

carcinoGeneticist: BYE, KANAYA.

- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] -

I shut my laptop with a louder-than-necessary crack and sigh, turning toward Gamzee and placing the machine on the nicked coffee table between our couch and the television, which was currently advertising some specials the local CVS or something must've cooked up. It looked like one of those sappy, over-personalized pharmacy-type commercials, anyway.

"We have to go tomorrow."

Oh. So that's why he was pointing to the television. He was reminding me about his doctor's appointment.

I… guess that was good of him. It proved he was clear-headed enough to remember important shit, though. Which was good.

"I know. I'm taking you." I sighed, leaning against the cushions of the couch and running my hands through my hair – tugging loosely at my scalp. A habit I had tried so many times to curb, but was never successful.

He nodded, growing quiet again as he stared into his bowl of macaroni. Which was empty, now. It was good, though. I was glad that he was able to sit still long enough to eat without getting up and pacing, or just falling asleep face-first into the food like he had been for the last few days.

But it's not like I could get angry with the bastard. It wasn't his fault the medication took a while to settle in with.

So it was really all I could do to clean him off, let him sleep it off or walk it off, and try again whenever he was somewhat coherent again. Meals had become long processes, and I hoped that tomorrow's appointment would help clear some things up. Or at least make this routine a bit easier.

But whatever. I guess dealing with Gamzee's fucked-up head was a good distraction from my own shitty thoughts. Especially with the ones I had been having as of late. At least taking care of him had given me something to do, and something to plan for. I didn't have much time to mope and feel sorry for myself, which I often did during times like these. I was either working, or getting ready for work. Those were my two modes. The two settings I had been programmed for as of late.

Sometimes, though, I just wondered if she thought of me as much as I thought of her.