I lied. I am posting more Homestuck fanfiction on this site...
With The Wrong Crowd
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you're pretty sure this is what parents and teachers always warn you about. Parties where what's in the punch bowl probably isn't punch, and the sweet smelling smoke hanging heavy in the air probably isn't from a smoke machine.
You have no idea what you're doing here.
There's a lanky guy sprawled out on the ratty sofa in polka dotted purple pyjama pants, smoke rising from his lips. His clown-painted face is creepy and relaxed, too relaxed.
You don't know why you said yes when he invited you here. You hardly know Gamzee Makara, outside of school, and he scares you. He's also listened to your poetry, and told you it's good, and rapped with you, and instead of calling you crippled, called your wheelchair a four-wheel miracle device.
So actually, yeah, you do know why you said yes. (read more)
You move to sit near him, because the room is dark and crowded and intimidating.
"Hey, Tavbro," he murmurs. His eyes are lost and glassy, and he's not really forming proper words, just mumbling at you and smiling at you and you can't look away.
"Taaaaaaaavros!"
A chill goes down your spine at the sound of the shrill voice, and then there's a hand on your shoulder and it takes all of your self-control not to jerk away.
Rough hands spin your chair around, and you're looking up into the face of Vriska Serket. She's tiny compared to you, stick thin, but she's all sharp edges and wild hair that makes her look so much bigger. Her eyes are fierce behind her glasses and her blue lips are parted to reveal teeth far too sharp to be human.
You're absolutely terrified.
"What are you doing here, Toreadork?" she drawls, leaning way, way too close to you. Her chest is too close to your face and your cheeks feel warm. "Little fairy babies shouldn't be in scary places like this. Unless you've finally grown a back bone?"
She reaches around behind you, her mouth ghosting along the edge of your jaw, and her hand trailing down your back. Lower, too low for you to feel it, but you know it's there and it makes you shudder.
"Whoa, sister." Gamzee's hands are on your shoulders now and it makes you shudder again, shiver. "Leave Tavbro alone."
Vriska pulls away and laughs, and you kind of wish she was still touching you and not laughing because you don't like that laugh at all.
"You know this clown, pupa? How the hell did thaaaaaaaat happen?"
You can't really answer because you don't really know, and Gamzee's hands are still on your shoulders and Vriska's still too close.
"What do you want with my bro, Vris…" Gamzee's voice is soft and slurred but not friendly like it should be.
"Tav is the baby who dropped out of the D&D club because it was too scaaaaaaaaary for him," Vriska says. She looks at you, smiles at you, showing you her too-sharp teeth.
"Not scary," you protest, mumbling, quieter than Gamzee even. "I just didn't, uh, that is, games should be, about fun, I think. Not, uh, beating everyone."
"Tha's right, bro," Gamzee slurs, falling back onto the couch, the warmth of his hands slipping away and leaving your shoulders cold.
"You know you want to win, pupa," Vriska says. She kneels on your legs, settles in your lap, whispers into your mouth. "Everyone wants to win."
And then she kisses you, and her mouth tastes sweet and sour at the same time. Her teeth clack against yours so hard it hurts, and you can't breathe and you're not sure if you want to. And then she pulls away, and hands you a cup and tells you to drink up. You don't know what it is, or where she got it, but you drink.
...
The next morning your head's pounding and you'd be vomiting if you had anything left to throw up. Your dad keeps asking what's wrong, what happened last night, and you lie. You lie because everything about last night scares you, and you don't know how to tell the truth.
When Gamzee pulls up in front of your house in a purple pick-up, you get in beside him like it's the most normal thing in the world.
He stops on the side of the road where there's nothing but steep slopes leading down to fenced-off riverside. The slope if too steep for your chair, and you tell him no, not to pick you up, not to carry you, that this isn't safe. Or at least you try to, but your words don't come out right or strong, and he just laughs and swoops you up in his arms and calls you his bro.
He's much stronger than someone so thin has any right to be.
He runs down the slope and laughs and hoots and honks while you scream and clench your fists in his shirt. Your face is still buried against his chest as he slips through a tear in the chain link fence.
He sets you down too close to the water and flops down beside you, flat on his back on the rocky shore. Vriska is here, too, leaning back on her elbows and blowing rings of blue smoke. There's another boy, too, with thick black-rimmed glasses and a stripped scarf wound tightly around his neck and a streak of purple in his hair. He's blowing smoke, too, watching Vriska and subtly trying and failing to imitate her.
Vriska is slow, lazy, to notice you. She stubs out her cigarette and slides up alongside you and winds her arms around your neck. She chokes you with her mouth, tasting strange and smoky.
When she pulls back she looks away from you to smirk at the other boy, her body still pressed against yours. She talks about the night before, says things you don't even remember, drawls out the words, watches the purple-haired boy scowl and squirm.
When a bottle of something strong and a smoky stick of something stronger are passed around, you drink and smoke and cough. You watch Gamzee's smile get lazier and Vriska's smile get sharper as they move closer to you, don't even notice when the purple-haired boy leaves.
...
Your father is worried, thinks you're sick, really sick, wants to take you to the doctor, even the hospital. You sleep in too late, vomit too often, have headaches too often.
You lie, and tell him you're fine. You tell him your friends make you feel better, tell him they're just a girl from D&D, a boy who raps with you. He lets you go with them, always lets you go, seems relieved, and proud, never suspicious.
They scare you sometimes, still, always, but you never say no. You let them take you places, and show you things, and share you and share with you.
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you've fallen in with the wrong crowd.
...
They ask you, once, what happened to your legs, and you tell them.
You tell them about the kid, when you were little, who dared you to jump off the cliff near your old house. Who not only made you do it, but made you want to do it.
Vriska laughs and says she likes this kid, that it sounds like her. And sometimes you wonder if it was. You know it wasn't, you would remember a girl who's all sharp angles and wild hair and feral grins. But when you remember the kid's voice, flyyyyyyyy, you think of her.
And you're not sure if this makes you love her more or less.
The thought scares you.
Everything scares you. Even, especially, the two people by your side, touching your arms, your face, making your heart ache.
And you have no idea what to do.
Because they'll leave you, someday, soon, maybe. Because you cough when you smoke and you choke on your alcohol, and you don't talk, usually, because the words never come out right when you do. Because you're broken, and shy, and scared.
You're not cute, or funny, or his bro. You're not handsome, just cowardly, not her pupa.
You're just waiting, always waiting, for them to leave, so you ignore the fear and enjoy the time you have left.
And you try to tell yourself that's brave.
...
Sometimes you're alone with one or the other, and you can't decide if it's easier or scarier.
You rap with Gamzee, and laugh, and watch him paint, and sometimes you hold him when he's too angry, too sad, to be the Gamzee you know. He has other friends. Dave, who raps with you, too, but makes Gamzee angry. And Karkat, who yells at you but makes Gamzee happy in ways you know you can't, which makes you sad.
Vriska plays with you, video games and roleplaying, and teaches you about winning. She wins, always, and then yells at you and kisses you and demands you try again. You wonder where her other friends are, if the boy with the purple streak and the girl with the red glasses count.
But when Gamzee hugs you and laughs with you, you hear Vriska's laughs on your other side. When Vriska grabs you, shakes you, attacks your mouth with hers, you can feel Gamzee's hands ghosting over your back.
When you're with both of them together, you're not sure if it's scarier or righter.
...
You realize you're trapped. Not just because Gamzee's sprawled out on one side of you and Vriska's curled up on the other, and your wheelchair's too far away on the other side of the room. But because you wouldn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, right now. Ever.
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you've fallen in love with the wrong crowd.