[S] Gamzee: Analyze, Process, Dissect
You can't remember when it started raining; you can hear the soft ping of the small water droplets as they collide with the tin roof of the apartment building. Between the drum role of rain pellets Karkat sniffles beneath you softly, tears streaming from his cherry red face. The heels of his palms are pressed hard against his eyes and his fingers are turned into two tight fists,
"I like you!" He manages with a strangled cry; you're not sure if its the fifth or fourth time he's said it but you're sure that you actually heard it this time. As you watch the smaller boy struggle with his emotions you relay whatever memories you can muster and evaluate them.
You can remember going to get pizza- and running into Karkat.
Buying pie from the old lady in the mall- and seeing Karkat.
Your first day back at college- and Karkat watching you the whole motherfucking time.
Experiencing another episode from withdrawal- and Karkat saving you and nursing you back to health.
You know that you should turn him down and save him from thinking he could ever possibly have a normal, loving, relationship with you. Instead you, without thinking at all, encircle your arms around his tiny waist and place your hands on the small of his back while leaning your face into his. As your nose touches his, Karkat's fist rest slowly to his sides.
[S] Karkat: Realize the sequence of events you've been following since Gamzee returned to college are moving all too fast.
His lips are callous against yours.
The motion was gentle, timid, but yet prying. Gamzee had bent quite a ways down to reach your face with his, he had pulled your midsections close together and when your lips met you kept your eyes open to search his face but, again, his bangs curtained your view. You slowly creep your hands up his back, feeling all of the bones in his spine with blunt fingernails before finally laying them to rest on his broad shoulders. When he kisses you again (this had to be the third time now) you tangle your fingers into his hair and stand on your toes to return the affection. Finally, he pulls away from you, leaving you slightly breathless,
"Gamzee..." You whisper into his neck, you can feel the vibrations of his voice through his body when he begins to speak,
"You shouldn't get close to me, Karkat, you're dealing with something you might not be able to recover from," he breathes in deeply, "like drugs."
Originally you had planned on a smartass remark, unfortunately it seemed to out of place at a moment like this, so you reiterate your thoughts, "It's okay. I've been hurt a lot."
Gamzee says nothing.
"So, we can heal each other- we can start fresh." You'd said this hurriedly, you know it sounds desperate, but that's okay, because for some reason you are. Again Gamzee says nothing, but he reaches down and shoves his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales sharply,
"Someone turned the heat on in this party, or we're becoming one, cause I'm melting into your motherfuckin' body."*
"What-?!" Suddenly your hoisted up over Gamzee's shoulder and thrown onto the bed, it creaks in protest when you land on the mattress and even more so when Gamzee crawls on top of you. You can't possibly imagine what he's thinking and you know your face is flaming because you can feel the scorching heat on your cheeks, "Karkat." Gamzee says softly, his deep voice shaking his body, "Karkat..."
You look up with wide eyes at Gamzee; this is the first time you've ever gotten a proper view of his face, his jaw is clenched and you can see his muscles straining as he grinds his teeth together. His eyes are calm and thoughtful, they tilt downward at the ends and give him a permanently lazy and stoic look. His thick, jet black hair frames his face like a lions mane, it covers your face partially when Gamzee lowers his body onto yours; he's heavy but you embrace the weight and wrap your arms around him. There are so many thoughts clustering your thought process that your head is beginning to ache, you can feel a soft knocking in the left side of your cranium, you decide to focus your being on Gamzee and his long breaths. After a while you began to dance your fingers about his back, the larger male welcomes the tingling feeling it sends through his body and bites your nape almost ghostly.
"Stay with me," he drawls, "let's go somewhere else together." When you say nothing he whispers, "I have a car."
"Okay, where would we go?"
"Georgia Tech."
Your eyes widen a little and you turn your face into the huge mass of Gamzee's messy hair, "We should start packing then."
"No, leave all this shit here. I want a motherfuckin' new life."
You think for a moment, "Well I have to get my stuff..." You wonder if your father will even notice you've moved halfway across the country, "but other than that we should send-,"
"No. I got in anywhere I motherfuckin' applied to."
"Oh, okay, so-,"
"Motherfuckin' tomorrow, we'll hop in the car and go," Gamzee raises off of you, "We're going to fucking drive there? That's like... Forty eight fucking hours Gamzee."
"Nah, I'll have the fucking car transported there, in the motherfucking meantime, let's find out what dorm we wanna motherfucking stay in and shit."
"Okay, do you have a laptop?"
"Yeah," Gamzee moves his body over you and off the bed before disappearing into the hallway; you are left alone in the barren room to think. You're absolutely positive you arrogant, bastard father wouldn't be home for the next few years, Gamzee clearly lived by himself, and you both (you still can't believe Gamzee was as smart as people and he made himself seem) could transfer out of this small ass hellhole with no problems at all. This seemed too easy and have you an empty feeling in your stomach, but you liked this plan; it sort of gave you a rush since you'd never done anything like it before and to put it simply: you feel like a fucking badass.
There were no hurdles on the straight, you decided- looks like you're a yellow jacket now.
"Karkat, there's a flight for tomorrow. Get up so I can drive you back to your motherfuckin' place."
[THE END]
Gamzee's car is sleek with a heavy looking body, it's a Mustang, and seems brand new. He slides his finger across the roof as he travels to the driver's side and when you reach for the door after he unlocks the car you notice heavy titanium decals in the black metallic paint of the handle. Inside it smells like cigarettes- in opposition to weed, surprisingly- and seems clean aside from crumbs and clothes all of over the little bit of space in the back of the car. There is a small juggling club hanging from the rear view mirror, he presses the stop/start button and puts the car in reverse,
"You listen to rap?" You say as he puts the car back in drive and starts out of the parking garage,
"Jazz and rap, motherfuckin' classical too." He yawns. You watch him, slyly, taking eyefuls of Gamzee a glance at a time; in the dim light of the navigation system and street lights in the darkening evening sky his arms seem elongated and lean. As he grips the steering wheel, thick sinews of muscle are revealed,
"What about you?"
You hang your head shamefully before turning to look out your window- you see trees, trees as far as the eye can see,
"I don't really listen to music, I never have fucking time."
Gamzee snorts, and mutters something (about bitchtits?) then presses the volume button on the dashboard. The sound of a steady drumbeat and rhythmic starts of a brass instrument fills your ears, over the instrumental a calm voice "raps", and not about strippers either.
"I like this." You mutter. Gamzee only grins, he turns up the music even more and nods his head before asking, "I make a left here right?" As you guide him your small house Gamzee asks you questions like "what's your favorite color" or "do you have any pets", he nods every time you answer, and you watch him coyly until he pulls into your driveway and waits in the car as you retrieve a duffle bag full of clothes. You return shortly- maybe too quickly.
"Damn, Karkat, you fucking want me bad bro."
"No Gamzee, you fuckass." You glare at him from outside the car until his smile subsides, "What the fuck am I packing? And do you even have money to feed us- let alone for a plane ticket. And you haven't even told me what your issue is." You breathe deeply, "Gamzee I just admitted that I have some strange infatuation for you, and you realize that makes me gay? Right?"
He stares at you, and something gleams in his eyes before he answers, "Karkat my grandfather is a doctor, I inherited my dad's savings, and I have an older motherfucking brother who has some issues. I'm addicted to prescription medication- that's all I can think of for now."
"For now?"
"You know. I always fucking hated insistent people- why does there always have to be a reason and history behind things? Why can't we just let shit happen?"
"That was ignorant, asshole; if we never asked why then the Holocaust would have never been stopped."
"Okay, motherfucker, just trust me for now. I have to get out of here, I'm going crazy. Go get your clothes and a toothbrush, we're staying in one of the rooms in the airport before we head out. And for the rest of this trip don't motherfucking question your actions."
You wonder how he got these plans figured out so quickly as you wander back into your home. There isn't much to pack as you stuff clothing, hairbrushes, your toothbrush and a few colognes into your red suitcase. You take on last glance at your room and try to find happy memories, but you can't. You haul your suitcase behind you and tinker down the staircase, leaving your house key on the counter after lock the bottom lock and closing the door behind you.
You can feel your face contorting into a serious expression- you're leaving your unseen future in the hands of Gamzee.
[THE END]
"Alright," Gamzee forces his voice through a mouthful of food while he crumples the aluminum foil that kept his sausage biscuit warm before tossing it into a nearby trashcan, "let's go."
You follow him towards the gate; Gamzee is literally traveling light, he has a small Nike duffle bag slung across his body. Your own suitcase hits your heels every so often. The airport is mostly empty, like the rest of this state, and the attendant at the gate gives Gamzee a peevish look that he dismisses, you glare at her as you follow his lead. Once the two of you have been situated into your seats, Gamzee pulls a rubber band from his pocket and ties his hair into a half-hearted, messy ponytail. He then leans over and lays his head on your small shoulder,
"Gamzee!" You snap at him, "We're in public!"
"You should sleep too; you didn't get a motherfucking snap of sleep yesterday night."
You stare at your boarding pass, it reads Portland, Oregon to Atlanta Georgia, round trip. Gamzee lifts off you to rummage through his bag; he pulls out a pair of purple headphones and places them onto your head. He picks a song on the black iPod that it's attached to, more rap, and then puts the iPod into your hand. You stare out the window with the music playing into your ear, by the time the plane has taken off you and Gamzee are both fast asleep.
*If you haven't heard The End by Macklemore I suggest you go listen to it- go on, go type it into YouTube.
And the story is officially beginning. Let's move.