AUTHOR'S NOTE: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN I AM NOT DEAD! I am so sorry for the long wait, with finals upon us I have had very little time for our two favourite boys, and even when I did this chapter was a bit of a pain to write. Regardless here is the new chapter for your reading pleasure.

Shoutouts to WaterFront3000, Mayazra, green-is-not-a-creative-color, ColbyDanielle, Marzy704 empresspenguinxd, pig27one, wildcat1144,

CroOkedTwiSted, TheMealsonWheels, theInsaneArtist, pig27one and all you other cool cats who have been so awesome and supportive. Anywho, on with the story!

Showers. Gamzee fucking loved showers. They were so hot and delightful, like a liquid hug or something. He also liked his showers to be hot, really hot. He liked the water to be borderline scalding, to the point where his skin was burning, but not to the point of direct pain. He liked the way it brought heat into his usually chilled skin, and how when he tilted his head back it made his scalp tingle.

He finished rinsing the rest of the shampoo from his hair, and then twisted the knobs back into their original position, stopping the water flow. Feelings of longing fell over Gamzee as he forced himself out of the warm, steamy comforts of the shower and into the cold of the outside world.

The bathroom was bigger than the one back at Tavros' apartment; it had a floor made of turquoise tiles that extended halfway up the walls, the upper half of the walls were covered in intentionally streaked light blue paint. A mint green shag rug sat in front of the sink, and the shower curtain depicted tropical fish. Gamzee liked this bathroom: it felt homier than Tavros'.

He quickly grabbed his towel, wrapping it over his head and shoulders like a nun's habit and sat on the rim of the tub, trying to keep the heat close. This was almost ritual for the bard, to sit after a shower and just let his mind wander, meditative almost, and just think until he was practically air dried.

(Author's Note: No lie I totally do this. I will go to my room after taking a shower and just sit in my towel just thinking about life. It really annoys my mom because I should be getting ready for school XD)

Eventually it started getting chilly down south, so the clown came back from his stupor and stood up, wrapping the towel around his hips and shaking the excess water from his black locks.

He leaned over the bathroom sink and wiped the fog from the mirror so that he could see his face. Though condensation still clung to the glass surface, the wobbly image of his reflection became visible. He frowned at his scars, ghosting over them with his fingers. They tingled faintly, as if they could remember the sharpness that birthed them.

Mean. Ugly. Scary.

The Turk shook his head, feeling some of his wet curls slap his cheeks, and opened up one of the tubes of paint that lay on the counter. Tavros had bought him these. After Gamzee had run out of the very last of his paints, and since he didn't have money for new ones, he had stopped showering so that the paint on his face would last. Tavros had caught on and after work one day went and bought Gamzee new tubes of paint.

Gamzee smirked to himself as he uncapped one of the paint tubes. They were from his least favourite brand, but he didn't tell Tavros that, and despite Tavros saying he would be willing to buy him more, Gamzee worked to conserve every bit of the paint his friend had bought him. He began with the white, squirting the cream paint onto his fingers, and spreading it out over his face. He had learned long ago how to apply his mask without a brush, as he didn't always have one to use, and now just preferred to do it this way. He built up the paint on the bridge of his nose, and under his right eye, until there was no trace of the blemishing lines. Afterwards he applied the grey, filling in the blank circles around his eyes and the crescent shape that outlined his mouth. His smile, so that he was always grinning.

He finished off with a dot above each of his brows and the points on either side of his jaw and stepped back to admire his work. This was what he liked people to see, his preferred face. With his biggest priority taken care of, he then started to put his clothes on. From the crumpled pile of clothes on the ground he picked up his boxers and pants, slipping them on with ease. The pants were a lot like the ones he had been wearing when he met Tavros, though these were newer and devoid of custom polka dots.

A week after moving into Tavros' apartment, the handicapped young man insisted that Gamzee needed new clothes. The thought hadn't crossed the bard's mind, as he had spent over a year in the same garments, but his new roommate insisted, and after a trip to Walmart, Gamzee Makara was now the proud owner of seven new shirts, pants, boxers, socks, a new pair of shoes and a jacket. Gamzee of course was unsure of allowing his friend to spend all that money on him, even though they were the cheapest stuff Walmart had to offer, but Tavros was in one of his fretful moods, being ever the worry-wart, and said that his ragged clothing was no longer wearable.

Gamzee looked down at his black jeans, ones that actually fit him. He had wanted to paint them like he had his old ones, but another part of him didn't want to desecrate them.

He cracked the bathroom window and quickly whipped out a joint. He took quick totes, holding his breath just long enough for the drug to affect him before blowing the smoke out the window. He knew that Tavros didn't want him smoking while they were still at his grandpa's house, but Gamzee could feel the shadows scraping at the door.

Better a broken promise than broken bones.

He extinguished the joint and wrapped in toilet paper before throwing it away. He grabbed his shirt, not feeling like putting it on yet, and walked back to Tavros' room. He large feet padded quietly along the hardwood floor as he snuck along. He wasn't sure who all was awake and who wasn't, he tried to be quiet. Zero social skills notwithstanding, he respected the insanely wonderful joys of sleeping to know to keep hush-hush when brothers and sisters be trying to snooze.

Upon returning, he pushed the door open, listening to it creak. After closing the door behind him, the Turk took a moment to look at his still sleeping companion. He had moved since Gamzee had rolled out of bed and left. Tavros was bent like an upside down L, his torso and arms sprawled out while his unmoving legs remained where they had been all night. Only half of his face was visible as he pressed his cheek into the pillow clutched in his arms. He had also twisted himself up in the blankets, in what Gamzee thought of as a bed-burrito.

The Hispanic boy made sounds that were not quite snores, but Gamzee didn't know the proper word for them. They sounded like small sniffs combined with little grunts and the faintest of nasal whines, and whatever they were, the clown found them endearing.

Shnuffles. Gamzee declared that those noises were called shnuffles, and that Tavros was currently shnuffling in his bed-burrito. Gamzee grinned, humming in approval at his addition to the English language. Tavros then made a noise that wasn't shnuffling (this was seriously a thing now) and the Turk saw that his roommate was finally waking up.

Sleepy green eyes opened followed by the smacking of dry lips and the shifting of sleep-stiff limbs. Gamzee stood by the door and watched in silent appreciation as a yawning Tavros uncurled from his fabric cocoon and sat up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Morning Tav," Gamzee greeted. He must have surprised Tavros, because for some reason Gamzee's voice made the mohawked young man jump.

"M-morning," Tavros responded blankly, fiddling with the comforter. Gamzee tilted his head.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no nothing's wrong," Tavros quickly responded. Even through the fog of weed smoke in his head, the bard could sense that this was not Tavros' usual type of nervousness. However, that same fog told him that if Tavros said he was fine, then it was all good, so he said nothing.

It was then that he finally remembered that his shirt was still in his hand, and not on his torso. He slipped the shirt on with ease, his face still intact. Gamzee had long ago mastered the art of putting on clothes without smudging his paint or getting it on his shirt, better than even the most cosmetically learned females.

He was fixing his hair, trying to bring life to the dampened curls, when the last words he wanted to hear came from his roommate's mouth.

"H-hey Gamzee, c-can we um, talk about last night?"

Fuck.

"Whatcha motherfuckin' talking 'bout, Tavbro?" Gamzee asked falsely.

"You know the uh, storm and...stuff."

Gamzee didn't need to see the redness of Tavros' cheeks to realize that he was just as uncomfortable talking about this as the Turk was.

Gamzee sighed.

"Not much to say, bro. I've always hated motherfuckin' thunder. The shit's always had me freakin' out."

"You were hysterical," Tavros said. "It really scared me."

Iron filled his stomach, his skin chilling. No. God no. Not another one. Please not another one!

"You were scared of me?" Gamzee's teetering voice only gave hints of the tsunami hiding beneath it.

"I was more scared for you," Tavros clarified, either oblivious to the dread in Gamzee's voice or ignoring it.

"Panic attacks are one of the worst experiences anyone can have, and I was scared b-because I wasn't sure I could help you."

The iron returned to liquid, and summer came back. Though he did not completely understand them, Tavros' words made him happy.

In three strides he was beside the bed, wrapping his lanky arms around Tavros' frame and squeezing him tight. The surprised squeak Tavros made Gamzee smile.

"Thanks man, you like, the motherfuckin' Panic Whisperer or some shit."

"Uh, th-thanks?"

There was a grumbling in the Turks stomach, and his mind turned to thoughts of a certain kitchen, and the food inside said kitchen.

"Hey come on Tav, let's go eat!"

"Now h-hold on I still need to get dressed!"

"Here I'll help, make it go faster."

That proposal was replied with an undignified squawk and the slaps of benign hands.

Gamzee thought that breakfast went well. He still had no know idea why Tavros was convinced that his grandpa didn't like him, that was silly. He could tell that he was continuing to get on Samanuel's good side all throughout the meal. Clearly the intense serious stare he gave Gamzee as he talked was him taking in every one of his words, and he must have a lot to say about the bard, given how many times he would turn his head to say something to Tavros.

He wished he could understand the man's Spanish, or why everything he said made Tavros blush or look uneasy. The poor guy was probably tired of being constantly told how motherfucking wicked his roommate was. Gamzee felt bad for him.

It wasn't long after breakfast that the overnight guests began to depart. The Leijon sisters and Zahhak brothers all rode home together, and Rufioh once again drove for Tavros and Gamzee.

It had been a week since the visit to the Nitram house, and Gamzee could feel something was off. Tavros was working later and later, saying that he was picking up extra shifts, but what concerned Gamzee was how on edge he was all the time. Anytime he would accidentally brush against him, the Hispanic boy would tense, and rarely did he make eye contact with the bard anymore. Gamzee was trying to figure out what was wrong.

This conundrum was still in his head when he was busking. It was a nice day at the park, a light field of clouds softening the sun's glare as Gamzee and his fellow performers played for the park-goers.

Back to the street where we began

Feeling as good as lovers can, you know

Yeah we're feeling so good

Pickin' up things we shouldn't read

It looks like the end of history as we know

It's just the end of the world

Back to the street where we began

Feeling as good as love, you could, you can

The lovely day had resulted in a lot of people in the park, which meant more tips for Gamzee. He sang with his usual vigour, but it took more effort than it usually did. His mind, usually liberated when making his magic, was bogged down by thoughts of Tavros and his own insecurities.

Into a place where thoughts can bloom

Into a room where it's nine in the afternoon

And we know that it could be

And we know that it should

And you know that you feel it too

'Cause it's nine in the afternoon

And your eyes are the size of the moon

You could 'cause you can so you do

We're feeling so good

Just the way that we do

When it's nine in the afternoon

Your eyes are the size of the moon

You could 'cause you can so you do

We're feeling so good

Though the people watching couldn't see it, Gamzee's smile was as artificial as the one painted on his cheeks. Not even the awesomeness of "Nine in the Afternoon" could help.

He was an excellent actor, as all good clowns were, and knew how to put on a performance, just as any bard was capable of. His act over the past five months had been one of his finest; the only one that surpassed it was the one he had been performing for the past thirteen years.

Back to the street

Down to our feet

Losing the feeling of feeling unique

Do you know what I mean?

Back to the place

Where we used to say

Man it feels good to feel this way

Now I know what I mean

Keeping up the role of friend and roommate to Tavros had been the easiest part, because that part at least was true. He did enjoy living with the handicapped young man, and loved spending time with him, getting to know him, not feeling lonely. The hardest part of the bard's performance was hiding his true intentions. He had always kept parts of himself under lock and key, but when he met Tavros it added yet another thing to stuff into the trunk. So far he had been good, but it was starting to get harder and harder to keep composed, the urge to break character tempting him.

Back to the street, back to the place,

Back to the room where it all began, hey

Back to the room where it all began

'Cause it's nine in the afternoon

Your eyes are the size of the moon

You could 'cause you can so you do

We're feeling so good

Just the way that we do

When it's nine in the afternoon

'"Your eyes are the size of the moon" Like Tavbro,' he thought to himself.

Your eyes are the size of the moon

You could 'cause you can so you do

We're feeling so good

Just the way that we do

When it's nine in the afternoon

The applause from his small audience brought him back to reality. He took a gulp of his Faygo, feeling the liquid lubricate his throat as the people around him dispersed, some of them dropping money into his case.

"Yo Gamz!" The bard looked up.

"Sup Croseph?" Gamzee said as he finished his bottle of Faygo. Cronus Ampora was a walking 50's stereotype that also played guitar in the park. He played more for the chance to flirt than the chance to earn tips, in the case of Gamzee. They had gotten off to a rocky start, Cronus saying that the Turk was moving in on his turf, but after sharing a game of Five Finger Fillet, a joint, and a failed pick up on the part of Cronus, the two were now bros.

"Oh nothing," Cronus replied. "Except I gotta ask you somethin'"

"What's up my leather sportin' bro?"

"My band's got a gig at Ahab's this weekend, but our back-up guitar had to go and violate probation."

"That sucks man."

"I know, right? Well, you think you could fill in for him?"

Gamzee raised an eyebrow.

"Motherfuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, come on man, you got the magic fingers, and we really need this gig."

"What's in it for me?"

"Fifty bucks and free drinks all night."

Gamzee thought about it for a moment.

"Crobro, you got a motherfuckin' deal."

Cronus grinned a toothy smile.

"Alright man," said the greaser, giving the clown a fist bump.

"Hey, message me later so we can work on the details alright?"

"Sure thing, bro."

After Cronus left, Gamzee spent another hour playing and then made the walk back to his and Tavros' apartment. When he got home, with all the excitement of a kid at Christmas, he told Tavros about his gig.

"That's great, Gamzee!" Tavros said.

"Hehe, hell yeah," Gamzee said, feeling chuffed.

"You're gonna be there, right?"

There was a look of doubt on Tavros' face.

"I-I well…"

Gamzee's smile fell slightly. Did Tavros not want to see him play? Why would that be?

"Hey man, if you don't want to up and come, that's fine-"

"I-I never said that!" Tavros quickly interjected. "Of course I'm coming."

Gamzee broke out into a huge grin.

"Alright!" he exclaimed, crushing Tavros into a hug. Tavros' mohawk tickled the side of his face, and he could smell Tavros' shampoo.

He liked it.

"Hey bro, can I motherfuckin' use your computer? I gotta talk to Crobro about some shit."

"S-sure," Tavros stammered. Gamzee went into Tavros room and booted up his computer. It hadn't taken him long to figure out Tavros' password, and he had set up a Pesterchum account, though he rarely used it.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering cassanovasAnchor [CA] at 10:00

TC: sUp CrOsKi? :O)

CA: dude, howv many wversions of my name havwe you made?

TC: I dOnT kNoW mAn, ShIt JuSt MoThErFuCkIn CoMeS tO mE. tHe ArT oF tHe MoThErFuCkIn NiCkNaMe Is A lOnG aNd AnCiEnT oNe PaSsEd DoWn ThRoUgOuT tHe AgEs Of WiTtY jUgGaLo BaRdS~

CA: vwhatevwer man, so you knowv vwhere Ahab's is right?

TC: hElL yEaH

CA: and you're sure you knowv howv to play all the songs in the set?

TC: yEs To ThAt As WeLl My GrEaSy HaIrEd CoMpAdRe

CA: like you can talk mister vwhite face

TC: :O)

CA: so, did your roomie say he vwas comin'?

TC: yEaH

CA: man, vwhen you goin to make a movwe?

TC: …

CA: bro, you'vwe been livin with the guy for almost half a year and you still havwen't nailed him yet, step up your game man!

TC: sHiT cRo It AiN't ThAt MoThErFuCkIn SimPlE

CA: look, all I knowv is that you havwe been pinin for the guy for as long as I'vwe knowvn you, and you havwe been less successful in romantic endeavours than a dead nun

TC: :O(

CA: you should probably movwe fast, 'cause he's kinda a babe in that awkward-cute sorta vway, and you aren't the only one vwho thinks he's hot

TC: tHe FuCk'S tHaT sUpPoSe To MeAn?

CA: just sayin, if you vweren't stakin him out, I'd take a shot at it ;)

TC: :O(

CA: ;)

TC: DoN't EvEn MoThErFuCkIn TrY iT

CA: calm dowvn man, like I said he's yours. Besides, he's a little too virgin for me

TC: sHiT mAn, I dOn'T kNoW wHaT tO mOtHeRfUcKiNg Do. HoW aM i SuPpOsEd To AsK hIm? I dOn'T eVeN kNoW iF hE's InTo DuDeS

CA: gamz, I'vwe seen him vwhen he's come to the park a couple times, and trust me, he digs the D, and nowv vwe gotta get him to vwant your D ;)

TC: hOw ThE fUcK dO i Do ThAt?

CA: just let good old uncle Cronus handle that. his ass vwill be yours in no time

TC: hEhE hE dOeS hAvE a NiCe AsS~

CA: haha, Nitram's got back am I right?

TC: hEhEhE, i LiKe TaV's BuTt AnD i CaNnOt LiE~

CA: this other bro can't deny~

TC: tHaT wHeN tAv RoLlS iN wItH aN iTtY bItTy WaIsT~

CA: and a round thing in his chair you get sprung~

TC: ;O)

CA: ;)

CA: ah crap gotta go, my kid brother's bein a shit and vwants his computer back

CA: remember, I'm gonna help you get this guy, just do vwhat I say

CA: later

cassanovasAnchor [CA] ceased pestering terminallyCapricious [TC} at 10:16

Gamzee sighed, logged out of pesterchum and went back into the living room. Tavros was watching T.V on the couch, a bowl of Goldfish in his arms.

"So what did you and Cronus talk about?" he asked as Gamzee joined him on the couch. The Turk joined his roommate under the blanket that was draped over his lap and grabbed a hand full of Goldfish.

"Just stuff for this weekend," he answered, shovelling the snack into his mouth.

"So everything's good?"

"Yup," Gamzee said as he chewed.

"Everything's going to be motherfuckin great."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: GOD BE PRAISED IT'S FINALLY DONE!

So ends another chapter, and let me tell ya folks, this was a difficult one to do. I decided that I should write from Gamzee's POV, just to spice it up a bit. What do you guys think, do you like reading Gam's POV, or do you think it should it all just be from Tavros' POV?

REVIEWS FAVS AND SUGGESTIONS EQUAL LOVE AND UNICORNS!