Chapter Two
You are suddenly Dave Strider. Only for like a minute though. You have heard what Karkat was saying, but you ran when he started to turn around. You hate emotional moments. Good thing you're a ninja. You want to go back to the bar, but surely that creepy troll is still there. And what would he say if you showed up there by yourself? Something stupid, probably. You suppose you could "borrow" some beer from your Bro. You dash back to your apartment, nothing more than a shadowy blur to anyone watching.
Now you are Karkat again. You are laying on the floor of your respriteblock. Your recuperacoon beckons to you, the warm sopor slime steaming in the cold atmosphere. But you do not want to get in. You want to process what just happened. You always mull things over for far too long. Then again, this could have been one of the worst things ever. Cronus could have done some serious damage to you. Much as you hate it, you're not very big at all. Nearly anyone could overpower you. Thank whatever god there is for that human male. You will certainly call him. Eventually.
For now, though, you will lay on your back and stare at the ceiling. It's moldy and disgusting. Green fuzz is trailing along in ugly blotches all over the place. There's a foot long crack that occasionally drips. You are obviously not doing very well financially. You have no need to attend human school; it would be purely for the social aspect. You work in a bookstore, making what you would call an ok amount of money. However, you spend about 85% of it paying for this dump, 5% on things required for your survival - such as food and clothes, and the rest is blown away to feed your alcohol addiction. You realize this is bad but you kind of don't give a fuck.
A loud bang makes you bolt upright, and your heart picks up its pace for a second. You are accustomed to loud noises, as you live in a city where things are constantly happening. But never this late (or early). It didn't sound like the dropping of something metal or the slamming of a door. Most likely, it was a gunshot.
Although the Alternian settlement on Earth was peaceful, and even welcomed by many, a good portion of the population hates it. There are reports of fights with humans almost daily, and the death rate of both races has been slowly increasing. What you just heard now was mostly likely a gunshot. Who even cares what species died or who did it? You got inside in time and you are safe. The killings rarely occur in broad daylight. Only once can you remember being called alien scum. A soda can was thrown at your head and you were told to go back to hell. You don't think about this memory much.
Since you're already half up now, you decide you'll get in your recuperacoon. You push yourself into a standing position slowly and with much caution. You're still kind of drunk. You pull off your sweater and fold it. It gets placed in its usual location, a chair in the corner. You kick off your sneakers next to the chair, throw your socks in a hamper, and tug off your pants. These also get placed on the chair. All your clothes are the same, so nobody notices when you reuse something anyways. Leaving your stupid crab boxers on, you lumber over to the recuperacoon and get in.
What? Yes, you said crab boxers. They were a gift. Shut up. They're adorable.
You sink down to the bottom of the sopor slime, shutting your eyes. It's been a very long and stressful day. You do not want to think about it anymore, though. You feel relaxed in here, and you drift into oblivion after no more than three minutes. It only feels like moments later that obnoxious beeping penetrates your ears and you groan into the slime. Some gets in your mouth, and you force yourself to sit up and stick your head out, sputtering. Gross. You climb out of your slimy heaven and stumble over to the source of the beeping. You keep the alarm clock on the highest volume on the other side of the room in hopes that it will continue to motivate you to get up.
You don't even need to wake up early, it's exactly nine in the morning. You got plenty of rest, but you feel like shit anyways. Typical. You slam your fist down in the off button, your breathing heavy. The noise stops and you sigh. No matter what time it is, it will always be too early for that damn beeping sound. You look down to find yourself coated in a layer of the thick green slime. This is also typical. And disgusting. You shiver. The stuff gets cold once it's out of the recuperacoon. It needs to be cleaned off, which is a rather annoying process.
The bathroom is in the same condition as the rest of your home. Which is incredibly shitty. You smother a spider with a piece of toilet paper and flush it away. You then remove your slime-soaked adorable crab boxers and enter the shower. It sputters on after a great deal of whining and hissing. The water smells of sulfur. Stupid cheap ass building, you think as you begin scrubbing the sopor off of your body. You don't keep track of how long this takes, but it's probably a while. You wash it out of your hair with some dollar store brand shampoo.
You're nearly done when you realize there is a huge black smudge on your arm. What the fuck? Wait... Oh great, you fucking idiot. You washed off his goddamn phone number. You had actually planned on calling him. Fuck fuck fuck. You sigh. Maybe you'll see him again anyways. After all, he did say he only lives two blocks down.
After the agonizing clean-up, you get on your clothes and get the hell out of your respriteblock. You rarely eat breakfast and today is no exception. You power walk out of your neighborhood and make a left. The bookstore isn't far from your place of living, but you hurry there anyways. It's very cold today, and the sun is hidden behind the gray clouds. With your luck, it'll be storming by the end of the work day.
You reach your destination and get the fuck in there. You can barely feel your hands. You dismiss your coworker, Rose, from her place at the front desk. This store is open twenty-four hours a day. No one knows why. Rose takes one half, you take the other. You both go from ten to ten.
She takes one look at you before standing and shutting her book. "Stop drinking, Karkat." She walks around the counter, brushing past you lightly.
"Says you, miss 'Come-To-Work-Drunk Lalonde." You grunt, replacing her place on the stool behind the desk. You flip open your own book and pretend to read it.
"I stopped, at least. It was barely even a year. You've been at this for, what, three 'sweeps'?" She leans over the table, giving you a disappointed look.
"It doesn't fucking matter, take your tips and get the hell out, Rose."
She sighs, pulling back and dumping the tip jar's contents into a velvet bag. "See you in twelve hours, Karkles."
As she leaves, you jump up and shout, "Don't fucking call me that you bitchy nooklicker!"
"Be quiet, you're in a bookstore!"
You growl, sinking back down onto the stool. You look down at your book and attempt to find your place. This novel is really quite interesting. You're nearly done, and will explain it as soon as you know how it ends. It's a human novel, but somehow it manages to touch on three quadrants. Kismesism is never mentioned in human novels, you notice. They call it weird and even abusive, but you think they're just ignorant. Anyways, you want to finish this book. You pick it up and begin, mumbling some words to yourself every now and then.
A few people come and go over the next few hours, which causes several disruptions of your reading as they check out or get lost in the mountains of books. Your stomach has begun begging for food by the time you have less than ten pages left. Once you complete the book, you'll go buy a cheap sandwich or something. Six pages left now. Someone enters the shop and you almost groan audibly, but you have to be polite to customers. You're on the last page when they place a book on the counter and state they're ready to buy.
Your annoyance gets the better of you, and you glare at them. Then your eyes widen. It's... It's him. It's Strider. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, shutting your book, your thumb still on the last page.
"Uh, I seem to be buying this book." He frowns at you, looking equally confused. "Is that a problem? I could come back later when-"
"No, shut up you ignorant prick. Do you not recognize me?" You ask, not really giving a shit about the whole "be nice to customers" thing anymore.
"Yeah, hi Karkat Vantas. I'd like to purchase this book. I've been coming here once a month to get a new book for like two years." He's getting slightly impatient, his arms crossing as he looks down at you. At least, you think that's what he's doing. Why is he still wearing those glasses? "Vantas, I don't have all day. I have like half an hour before my next class."
You growl and check out his book. It's a science fiction novel, and it's pretty heavy. You tell him that it's twelve dollars and sixty-two cents. He gives you exact change and says thank you, then starts to leave.
"Wait, Strider, where are you going?" You realize this sounds a bit creepy.
"Lunch. Pizza, probably." His hand is on the door.
Now is your chance. You could use a friend. "I'm coming with you." You say, rather than asking if you could.
"Uh, alright, whatever, hurry it up then." He's looking at you funny.
You pull out a piece of paper and quickly scribble "back in twenty minutes" on it. You stand up, still holding your book - you're going to finish it while walking if you have to - and shoo him out. You stick the sign on the door, lock it, and stand beside him.
He shrugs and begins walking down the sidewalk. You walk next to him, the bitter cold biting at your face. You should have worn a jacket today. Strider has on a warm-looking hoodie. Still, he walks with his shoulders hunched over and the hood up. He doesn't talk until you both enter some commercial pizza place. He pulls off his hood and shakes his head, blonde hair floating around. You shiver, the sudden warmth enveloping you.
Both of you go to the counter and order some pizza slices. Dave picks a booth seat, and you slide in across from him. He rests his head in the palm of his hands, looking at you. You have set your book down and you are reading the last page. You are literally on the last senten - "Why'd you wanna follow me here if you didn't have anything to say to me?"
You hold up one finger, and you hear Dave grunt in annoyance. You quickly read the sentence and shut the book. You can talk about it later. You set it to the side. "I've been trying to finish that book for ages." You mutter.
"Congrats on your ability to read." He replies, now tapping his finger on the table. His nails are bitten down and his hands are dry. "So what's up with you? You gonna buy me lunch 'cause I saved you?"
"What? Fuck no. I mean - no. Thanks for that, though." You're looking everywhere except his shades. "I've come to the conclusion that I could use a friend, and since you so graciously offered-"
"I gave you my phone number, meaning for you to text me if you needed to or whatever." He interjects.
You blink a few times. "I accidentally washed it off in the shower this morning, and I don't even have a cellphone."
"Sucks. Got a pesterchum, then?"
"Trollian, but it's the same thing. Here," you write your tag on and napkin and hand it to him. He folds it and puts it in his pocket. "But, seriously, Strider. I don't want to get into details but I have no fucking friends here."
"What about Rose?" He asks.
"That doesn't count at all, I just see her for like ten minutes - wait how the fuck do you know her?"
"She's my cousin." He seems rather disinterested in the conversation. You just say oh, and that's cool. It's awkwardly quiet until the food comes. He immediately starts chowing down. You've avoided getting this for sweeps. It never looked appealing to you. What was so great about cheesey bread?
You watch him eating it for a minute before picking up your slice and carefully sticking it in your mouth. You bite down, chew, and swallow. Whoa, it's actually really good. You hungrily eat the rest of it. It's gone in a matter of seconds. Dave is staring at you, mouth slightly open.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"
"Did... Did you even chew that, dude?" His pizza is only half gone, held up to his face.
"Of course I did, don't be ridiculous. It was just really good." You cross your arms, returning his stare.
"Whatever, man. You're pretty damn weird." He shrugs and continues eating his pizza.
"At least I don't wear sunglasses inside like a tool." You retort. The silence that follows this remark tells you that it was probably not the best thing to say to someone you're trying to befriend.
He finishes his food and checks his watch. "Fuck. Gotta go. Talk to you later, Vantas." He stands. You say that's ok, goodbye. And then you are alone at a booth in a pizza place, feeling pretty fucking sad. Again.