Rolling up to Gamzee's flat alone was one of that scariest things Tavros had ever had to do, and it took all he had to knock on the door, but when Gamzee answered all his anxiety seemed to melt away. He looked up at the stunned clown and smiled, feeling the expression and the joy behind it build up in his heart. "Gamzee!"
Gamzee dropped to his knees and lurched forward to bury his head in Tavros' shirt, smiling and nuzzling like an affectionate kitten. "Mirthful miracles, what a thrill it is to see you alive and smiling my way!"
"I uh, I missed you," Tavros said, sheepishly hugging Gamzee's head, feeling affection swell in his chest. "I should have come… sooner."
"Don't you sweat it, my dear brother," Gamzee replied, standing. "Let me just push you and this glorious chair down these little baby stairs, cool?"
Tavros looked nervously at the small flight. There were only seven steps, but his stomach turned uneasily until suddenly, he felt an extra weight on the back of his chair. "Um, Gamzee?"
"Yeah, bro?"
"What are you doing on my, uh, why are you on the back of my wheelchair?"
Gamzee grinned. "Hitching a motherfucking ride."
Before Tavros could protest Gamzee pushed off the wall and they sped down all seven steps in a flash. Tavros covered his eyes and sucked in a breath, prepared to scream, but was surprised into silence when Gamzee hopped off, just quick enough to plant his feet on the last step. The stopped suddenly, but smoothly. "O-oh," He breathed.
"Hang tight now, alright?" Gamzee said, rolling Tavros right by the couch. "I've got a something to all up and bring to you, man."
Tavros waited patiently and when Gamzee returned with a small, colorful cage, his face lit up. "Rufioh!" He pulled the rat from the bed of shredded paper and cuddled him close. "I, he's just, uh, h-how did you find him?"
"The little bro all up and escaped from your pocket and hit in the motherfucking school. When the motherfuckers at the hospital told me to find a fresh zone to chill went back for him."
Though Gamzee's tone was casually drugged as always, Tavros saw a touch of unease in the way he held his face. "They made you leave?"
"I was too motherfucking worried for your life, my brother," He said seriously. "My control up and left my soul, motherfucker. My mojo was bad, not good for a zone of healing, but you're okay now, so I am too."
Tavros felt his throat close up again. "B-but I'm… I'm not okay. I'm stuck, and… my legs, I mean, I c-can't even… do anything." He said the last words very softly, and a tear escaped his eye, but Gamzee brushed it away. Tavros looked up at him.
"Come on brother," He murmured gently. "I've got a potion that'll all up and cure your blues I'm sure."
The potion turned out to be a case of old disney movies on VHS. They spent the day with a giant bowl of popcorn and a VCR. When Gamzee slung an arm around his shoulders, Tavros was relieved. Their friendship was unharmed and with Gamzee, buttery snacks, and hours upon hours of disney magic, he really began to feel better. As was the usual at their sleepovers, Tavros and Gamzee shared covers in the juggalo's massive bed. Gamzee helped Tavros up then crawled in beside him with a dopey smile. Tavros' returning smile was timid, but real, and he laid back against Gamzee while he pulled out his phone to wish Simon goodnight. It was around midnight, and Tavros knew that the man was still working the diner at that time, but he dialed anyway, intending to leave a voicemail. Hearing an energized "hello?" Came as a big surprise, and when Gamzee regestered the stunned expression on his face, he recived a comforting pat, helping him to shake of the initial shock or hearing his father's voice so upbeat and happy at such an hour. When he hung up, Gamzee asked him if something was wrong, but he bruished it off. There shouldn't have been anything so suspicious about his father beeing in a good mood. Trying not to think to hard on it, Tavros pulled the covers up to his chin and went to sleep. When he woke the next morning he was extremely warm, and when he opened his eyes he saw the faygo logo of Gamzee's tee shirt mere inches from his face. A strong pair of arms held him in a tight embrace, and when he breathed in, the smell of baked goods and face paint filled his nose. He blushed at being held so close, but he neither protested, nor attempted to wake his sleeping friend.
He didn't really mind being held, in fact, it felt amazing, but he didn't quite know how to handle it. It was only when he remembered his promise to return to school that he panicked, urgently prodding Gamzee's ribs. The ticklish Juggalo snickered in his sleep and shifted a big, but Tavros had to repeatedly pat his face to actually wake him. When Gamzee did open his eyes Tavros almost gasped, realizing just how close they really were. He could see every one of Gamzee's features, face clean on all paint, in stunning clarity. Gamzee's indigo eyes seemed to capture him, getting slowly larger, no, closer, until Tavros just couldn't take his frantically beating heart. "Uh…" He stammered, backing up a little. "U-uh, I um, have… I mean my Dad, or, I p-promised to uh, go to… school today."
Gamzee blinked out of his fog and glanced groggily around. "Breakfast," He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Stretching, he rolled out of bed, then came around to help Tavros into his chair. While Gamzee cooked, Tavros struggled into fresh clothes, pulling from the stash he kept in Gamzee's closet. He was always leaving his stuff around, but Gamzee didn't seem to mind so neither of them ever bothered to correct the issue.
After dressing, Tavros entered the kitchen to find Gamzee, an apron over his pajamas, eating from a steaming pie tin with one hand, while wrapping a bundle of brownies in the other. Gamzee, was ambidextrous. "Is uh that… are those… um, brownies for me?"
"You bet," Gamzee drawled through his mouthful. The pie was clearly still very hot, it was a wonder the clown didn't burn his tongue, but the stoned expression on his face told Tavros that whatever was in that pie made it totally worth the pain. "Happy motherfucking breakfast time, my brother."
More enthusiastic than he had thought himself able, Tavros rolled into the kitchen to accept the warm bundle, inhaling that mouth watering aroma of warm, moist chocolate baked to perfection, completely from scratch. He snuck one out without disturbing the rest, and took a large bite. His teeth sank through as if it were warm butter and the treat crumbled, melting on his tongue and filling him with its warmth. "They're so good…" He murmured with a sheepish smile.
Simon at times worried that Gamzee would accidentally feed Tavros something with that special stardust in it, but Tavros trusted that Gamzee always double checked which batches were drugged, or blessed as he liked to call them. He always let Tavros decide which version he wanted to eat. Gamzee smiled down at him. "Want a lift to the old zone of learning, motherfucker?"
Tavros nodded and allowed Gamzee to pile him into the car. On account of their lazy start, they arrived at the high school about two hours late, landing him in second period. Gamzee sent him off with a tight hug, promising to care for Rufioh and keep him out of Bozo's reach. They said goodbye, then Tavros was alone. What he hadn't thought of, through the stabbing fear, was how he was going to get up the stairs that led to the front door. He wound up having to circle all the way around the school twice, all by himself, until he finally found the only handicap entrance. It was steep and hard to roll on, he was fighting gravity the whole way up, but he managed, his arms a little sore as he continued down the mercifully flat, and empty halls. As he pushed himself along, he couldn't help but be weary of the eerie silence. There no noise. No voices, and no footsteps, not even his own. His well oiled chair glided along soundlessly.
When he got to class he gulped, reaching for the door handle that was so much higher up to him, with a violent tremor in his hand. The click of the handle and the creak of the hinges shattered the silence in the most nerve wracking way, followed by a series of murmurs and gasps, conversation bubbling throughout the class, nothing above a whisper. Tavros felt his stomach twist, and his head went dizzy. Every eye was on him. "Mr. Nitram," The teacher said, looking with interest at his chair. "I see you're… Back in class, then?"
Tavros nodded weakly, receiving a stern look. There was no sympathy in the man's eyes. "You're late."
Tavros nodded again.
"Well, where is your late slip?"
He felt his gut go cold. "I-I, uh… My, um, it's… I n-never got one?"
The teacher shook his head and moved to pick up the phone. The whole class snickered and continued to murmur while the teacher reported Tavros' presence in the building and his lack of an excuse note. "Mhm," He murmured into the receiver. "Yes. Hm? Oh, has he? That would explain it. Alright. Yes, thank you. Goodbye." He hung up and looked down at Tavros with a irritated look. "Go on, they're asking for you. Office."
Tavros didn't say anything. He accepted his hall pass silently, setting it in his lap as he pushed himself towards the door. When he opened it, it banged noisily against the front of his chair. He hung his head when the class snickered, and he retreated as fast as he could. No one offered to help him.
Tavros didn't realize he was crying until he saw the drops of moisture splattering on his hall pass. He longed for the safety of home, or of Gamzee's reassuring smile. People at school were cold, uncaring, and just plain mean. Tavros hadn't intended to be late, it wasn't his fault that the only existing wheelchair ramp was like a death trap. The day had hardly begun and already he wanted to go home. Miserable, he stopped a curve away from the office to rest his arms, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket. The right side felt so much warmer than the left, and when he dug in deeper, he curled his fingers gently around his bundle of brownies. He pulled out what remained and ate them quickly, taking comfort in their warmth and flavor. With the warm chocolate in his stomach he didn't feel as sick, and his will to move on grew a little stronger. He pushed forward and rounded the corner when suddenly he heard an all too familiar voice. Intending to make a metaphorical run for it, Tavros started to turn, but he had already been seen and the principal, Mrs. Delora, urged him over.
Cowering in his chair, he parked in one of the two desks in the front of the office. The other was occupied by none other than Vriska Serket. When she caught his eye, her own flickered down to his chair than back again. Her expression was frightening, a mixture of what looked like shock, and anger. The look ended as quick as it began, but Tavros felt as if it had caused a layer of frost to settle over him. Involuntarily, he shivered.
After getting over the initial chill and nausea, Tavros noticed that the meeting was already in progress. Mrs. Delora appeared to be repeating herself when she announced that he and Vriska would receive two months detention after their little paintball disaster. Vriska seemed pissed, but not surprised. "To start with, you'll be scrubbing down the stairwell," The principal said. "You're lucky the paint is removable. Are we clear?"
"N-no," Tavros mumbled, voice hardly audible even in the relatively quiet room.
The women looked stunned. "Excuse me?"
Swallowing through the lump in his throat, Tavros stared down at his knees, rubbing them with both hands. He wished he could feel it. "I-I… I can't."
"Is that so?" She challenged. "Why not?"
Lower lip trembling, Tavros awkwardly wheeled away frown the desk, reviling his chair. Vriska was uncharacteristically silent. "My uh, my legs, M-Mrs. Delora."
The principal let out a sound of pity, her face melting into a look of smothering sympathy. "Oh, sweetheart," She cooed, coming around to pat his shoulder apologetically. "I'm so sorry, dear. Let me tell you what, you've never been one to display any real negative behaviors, on account of that, and your injuries, we'll find something a little easier for you to do, okay? Don't cry."
Without another word Tavros backed out of the room, rounding the corner and locking his wheels, just burying his face in his hands. Detention. He was already paralyzed, why punish him more? Because he had been so eager to impress a girl who didn't even like him, he wound up paralyzed and in detention. He was so distraught that when he heard the click of heels, he didn't look up right away, but when they stopped very close, he slowly came out of his crouch.
Vriska's hair was in a tight pony tail, stray waves braided into a golden crown. Her lips navy blue like her eyes, and he expression cold, she looked upset, uncomfortable, and annoyed. She wore a loosely knit sweater over a navy tank top, a pair of dark jeans, and the flashy red heels that had alerted him of her approach. Her beauty left him with a pang of heart ache, and the silence dragged on. "They look fine to me," She finally said, crossing her arms and facing away. She had been staring at his legs with a dark pout. "No blood, no bones, not even a cast."
Neither of them wanted to make eye contact. "They… they're um, there's no cast because I… My legs I mean, aren't uh, broken exactly."
"Then you're faking," She accused, looking both appalled, and if he wasn't mistaken, relieved. "You should be scrubbing stairs!"
"… I can't."
"Why the hell not?"
Tavros clenched his jaw tight, fighting against the stinging in his eyes. "My legs aren't broken, I'm… P-paralyzed."
Her eyes widened, glowing behind her glasses, and her blue lips parted in a silent gasp. The expression should have made him feel better. She wasn't laughing, the news was upsetting to her, but it instead just made him angry. His hands shook and he wanted to badly to scream, but when he spoke his voice was broken and small. He only wanted to know one thing. "Why?"
For once, Vriska spoke to him very softly. "Why what, Tavros?"
"Why did you push me?"
Like a switch had been flipped, Vriska went from gentle to furious. "Don't ask such stupid questions!" She shrieked. "I didn't push anyone, you clumsy moron! You fell!"
"Well, can I ask why you kissed me?" He demanded, voice increasing in both volume, and strength. "You don't love me, I'm pretty sure that… that you don't even like me!"
Vriska aggressively slammed both hands on the armrests of Tavros' chair, leaning in with a glowing eyed glare. When her eyes closed, his attention was snatched away by a harsh kiss to the lips, Vriska's mouth rough and angry, burning up on his own. Head spinning, he battled between two great, and conflicting desires. He wanted her, he longed for her, but he was angry, hurt, and the thought of getting tangled in her web again was rejected by his whole being. He gripped her shoulder and pushed her back, his hand not forceful or hostile, but firm despite the tremor in his fingers. "You don't love me," He repeated. His voice was low, and unsteady, hardly above a whisper.
Her eyes narrowed and for a moment, the sound of her breathing trembled, but then any emotion that may have been on her face was replaced with anger, her glare as sharp as a knife, forged by only ice. "I could never love you."
Sharply she straightened her spine and then turned on her heel, disappearing down the empty hall. For a minute Tavros just sat there breathing, his wheels locked and his jaw tight. He already knew she was perfect, and he knew that they could never coexist as one, but though she made him angrier than anyone else ever could, he couldn't help but long to join in her perfection. Because maybe, if he did, just a flicker of the confidence she held would fall on him.
