Continue to be the cynical, angry teenager that has found another note in your locker.
You are still Karkat Vantas and in your hands is another note, assumably a "love poem"- if it could even be called that. You know quite a bit about romanticism, what with all the romcoms you watch and lovey-dovey novels you read. This attempt at impression is almost degrading, like whoever is writing them either has no time for or is mocking you. The other thing that annoys you is that you have absolutely no idea who is doing this. You asked all your friends, even your half-illiterate ones. You even had Gamzee read the first one and he had shrugged and agreed with you that it was incredibly idiotic. He had been real quiet after that, though.
You open the less-crumpled-than-before paper and start reading.
I see you every day
Watching from afar
But not really too far away
Actually Im pretty close
Fuck
I sound like a stalker
Lets try this again
You are amazin in every way
Except for socially unacceptable ways
Which you aren't
But yeah
Uh
I hope this makes you happy, bro
Because its all I really know
This time you barfed in your mouth a little. You're sure of it. Whoever this asshole is needs to stop. It's embarrassing. It doesn't even seem like they're trying, yet it sounds like theyre trying too hard at the same time. It's pathetic and annoying and you wish you could curse the secret admirer out. You growl and shove the paper down into your pocket carelessly, walking out to the bench you and Gamzee like to sit on during the mornings before school. It doesn't take long for you to notice him sitting there, his elbows bent behind him and over the back of the bench. You imagine for a moment what it would feel like to have them around you for once, but you quickly shake the thought off. His black backpack, covered in silver permanent marker, sits to the right of him. He likes to put it there to save your spot.
"Hey, you're a little late today, motherfucker," he says cheerily as you move his backpack off of the bench, sitting down. You look over to him and blink a few times, willing the blood not to rush to your face. You try not to think about it too much out of pure embarrassment, but Gamzee is quite the looker. His cheekbones and jaw are slightly pointed and angled, and his curly hair sweeps over his face, curling upward and ending where his neck meets his shoulders. He has deep brown, almost black eyes with purple flecks branching out from his pupils. You think he looks the best with a tiny bit of stubble on his face, but it takes along time for that to happen on him- you are both still in high school.
"Yeah, I found another note in my locker. It's worse than the last one," you reply, rolling your eyes. You dig your hand into your pocket- it's harder to get things out of your skinny jeans' pockets when you're sitting down- and hand his the now balled up piece of crummy lined paper. He waits for a second before taking it, seeming a bit reluctant.
You watch him unfurl it and scan quickly over the lines, looking up to you. "...Yeah," he says, putting it back in your hand, "That's, uh… Pretty motherfuckin' lame."
"Ugh, yeah. I know. Whoever this asshole is, he needs to stop. Gog, it's like it's a joke or some shit. If I find them I will beat them to pieces and then beat the fucking pieces," you rant, putting the paper back in your pocket. "It's not like it's going to woo me anyway. I already have a cru-" you stop yourself. That was too close. Unfortunately for you, however, Gamzee knows you far too well and smirks.
"Oh no, motherfucker. I know what you were gonna up and say," he teases, narrowing his eyes. "You got a crush on somebody."
"No, you fuckass, I don't…. I mean, I, not really, kind- Fuck!" you trip over your words, feeling your cheeks darken. "Fine, yes, I do."
Gamzee grins. "Ha, I fuckin' knew it. Can ya tell me who it is?"
You blush even more and take on a worried expression. Fuck, you really backed yourself into a corner this time, Vantas. "No! Like I would trust you, fucktard…"
Gamzee leans in way too close to you and waggles his eyebrows. "Aw come on bro, you can up and let me know who's got ya heart all up and flutterin'."
You think how easy it would be just to lean forward and kiss him and you lean back quickly. "Gamzee, come the fuck on. I'm not fucking telling you."
Gamzee pouts. "Aight, fine bro. I'll ease up," he replies.
You calm down a bit and return to your normal position, going on with average morningly conversation. The bell rings eventually and you have to leave, but not before the usual hug he gives you, which like normal makes you blush like crazy and shove him off.
For the rest of the day you don't pay attention in class. All you can think about is missing your chance to kiss Gamzee earlier this morning and who the fuck is giving you these goddamned poems.
Looks like you're going to have to snoop around.
