I tired and therefore nobody can judge me.
For the next several days, Tavros' life was a difficult one. He awoke the morning after Vriska had left to the sound of soft knocking on his front door. There was the shifting of weight and fabric brushing against skin and Tavros had felt his heart leap straight into his throat. He was still groggy and his fear suddenly prominent, not from his girlfriend's warning but because nobody ever visited him and there was a very strong sense of anxiety still clouding his mind. Later he'd figure it was left over from some dream he couldn't remember but at the time he'd held his breath and stayed completely still until whoever was at his front door had moved along without a word. Afterwards he'd sighed with relief and then proceeded to lay in bed and go over everything that had happened to him within the last forty eight hours. Not that he'd had much of a choice about not moving. No wheel chair...
A solution for that particular problem came while he was staring rather moodily at his bedroom wall. He was propped up in bed by this point, letting what was left of his legs dangle off the side and tapping them restlessly. He'd thrown off his clothes earlier once awareness had hit him and he'd realized he was still dressed in that Peter Pan costume, musty smelling now and itching against his skin uncomfortably. So yeah...naked...feeling gross...kind of hungry...really thirsty...it fucking sucked. To say he was glaring daggers at the rather innocent wall was an understatement. He was just considering going through the humiliation of trying to drag himself around when his gaze landed at his computer. On its table. Next to his bed. Where there used to be a rolling chair. Right there.
Just to left of the door to his bedroom was a closet. It wasn't terribly large, but it was the only one in the entire apartment so it stored most of his extra bedding and cleaning supplies. It was also where he'd stuck said rolling chair not long after his accident.
A few minutes and a bit of carpet burn later, Tavros had managed to fetch it, pushing it into a corner so he could clamber onto the chair without it rolling all over the place. Then he grabbed his broom, now turned paddle, and off he went.
Again, this wasn't an easy life. For days he stuttered around his apartment, movements awkward as he tried to maneuver his makeshift wheelchair through doorways and spaces not meant to accommodate the handicapped. This was his home, and though he'd grown used to the tight fit of it all, his newest impediment certainly didn't make things easier on him. Several times he fell, reaching too far or simply over balancing himself. Each time he pushed the chair upright and hauled his useless body back into it.
The knocks on his door were quickly becoming a fairly constant thing. Once in the morning, two or three times in the afternoon and then once more right after the sun had fallen. Tavros never even considered opening that door, just sitting quietly until it was gone and then going to see if they had maybe left his belongings on the front step. No such luck.
Things changed the third day. It was nearing early evening, and the teen had been curled up (or as curled as he could get himself) on his couch, book in hand, when the knocking came again. He didn't even look up. That was, until he heard a voice.
"Hey fuckass, we know you're in there so just open the goddamn door already!"
The voice was gravely and slightly unpleasant but only because of the volume at which it was used. Whoever that was needed to calm the hell down, geez.
Oh yeah, Tavros should probably calm down too. His head had snapped up fast enough to give him whiplash and large, doe eyes stared hard at his door. Who even was that out there? He'd certainly never met anyone with that voice, he would have remembered them.
More pounding. "Oh for fuck's sake! If you don't open this piece of shit door within the next three goddamn seconds I'll rip it off it's fucking hinges."
A small, strangled sound came from Tavros' throat, covering up a second voice that spoke to the first. The teen was too busy trying to scramble into his chair to notice in the first place. Shaky fingers had just grabbed the back of it when the front door rattled and holY SHIT HE DIDNT LOCK THE DOOR.
There was the sound of metal against plaster as handle met wall and in stalked a dark, unruly looking stranger. Well...two actually, but the second one didn't stalk exactly. Just kind of ambled.
"There you are!" the first one growled.
Tavros snapped his jaw shut and attempted to vault himself into the computer chair as the stranger moved closer, hands curled into tight fists. Unfortunately for Tavros, the traitorous chair skid sideways with his weight, throwing him unceremoniously to the floor, managing to strike the edge of the coffee table on his way down. He groaned, clutching at his shoulder and deciding it was time for plan B.
"P-please, just l-l-leave me alone! I sw-swear I-I-I didn't know! I didn't I didn't!"
The whole performance gave the shorter of the strangers pause, his dark eyes narrowing slightly and then rolling heavenward as he sighed.
"Jegus Christ dude, we're just here to drop off your wheelchair! What are you even doing freaking out like that, dumbass?"
"Hey, take it easy on him Karbro, little motherfucker's scared." The second stranger approached, hands stuffed in his jean pockets and shoulders set in a comfortable slouch. Tavros couldn't even see his face from this angle, he was too tall and the handicapped teen too occupied with pushing himself up, back to the couch, eyes still wide.
Karbro (what the fuck kind of name was that, really?) made a scoffing noise but backed off anyways, leaning away and crossing his arms over his chest. Now that Tavros was really looking, he didn't seem that intimidating actually. He was dressed in a huge, grey sweater that completely swamped his small frame and dark jeans. Compactly built, it looked like he could possibly be sporting a six pack under that monstrosity of fabric, but all covered up as he was he kind of just looked...adorable. Like a big, soft plush toy. If plush toys could make a sailor blush with their language and the devil himself back down from that glare.
The second stranger moved fluidly into the space Karbro had just exited, an easy, lazy smile splitting his lips rather widely. It would have been comforting if his features weren't covered in face paint. Like...a gallon of it. All sickly whites and dark grays, creating a haphazard semblance of a clown. Underneath said monstrosity, the stranger looked to be quite handsome with a wide face, slightly flattened nose and deep, deep eyes. Was that color purple or blue? Tavros couldn't tell from this distance.
"Take it motherfucking easy man, we ain't here to try and get your scare on or nothing. Just wanted to bring back your four wheeled device and shit," stranger number two drawled, his voice a mixture between deep trembling and something higher pitched, smooth as silk.
Four wheeled device?
"M-my wheelchair?" Tavros asked rather uncertainly, still plastered to the side of the couch and gaze flickering from one intruder to the next.
If at all possible, the taller one's smile grew, eyes at half mast and oddly captivating. "Sure thing, bro. Got it right out in the motherfucking hallway. Look like you could up and use that miracle too."
So where these the...drug addicts (that's what Eridan had called them, right?) that lived in the house where the party had been thrown? Well...he could believe that he supposed.
Tavros bit his bottom lip before stuttering out a short thank you.
"Don't fucking thank us, you jackass." That would be Karbro again. "Gamzee here has been coming over every damn day trying to give you that piece of shit back and you never open the fucking door. I actually had to haul my ass all the way out here, against my better wishes thank you, to help out my poor excuse for a best fucking friend complete a simple goddamn task that even a three year old could get done. So no, don't thank us. You owe me food, drink and full use of both your bathroom and your television for the next three hours."
Um?
"Aw shit Karkat, you can't just up and do that to a motherfucker."
What?
"The hell I can't!"
Hold on a s...
"Bro we got all that shit back at home. You already scared the little motherfucker, can't be getting all up in his business now."
Wait!
"I will only repeat myself once more Gamzee. To hell I can't! This fucking douche here owes me. If he'd just opened the goddamn door the past fifty times you knocked I wouldn't have had to be here in the first place! But look, here I am, like a fucking sap trying to appease my sorry fucking excuse for a friend."
"Stop!"
Two pairs of eyes turned to face Tavros, one pair an unreadable shade of royal purple, the other a smoldering burgundy brown.
Shit, was that out loud?
"I mean, um, c-could you not, uh, fight y-you know, in my, um, in my apartment..."
Oh fuck they were both still smiling at him he made them mad didn't he wasn't trying to he really wasn't he just wanted them out of his house and out of his space and oh god he could feel tears welling and they were so going to call him out if he started crying right now, even Vriska always did and he could feel them god oh god what was...
Gamzee broke into another warm smile, affectionate and odd. "Sure thing little dude. Me and Karkat here got shit to do anyways. We'll come hang with you tomorrow, okay?" With that he grabbed Karbro(kat?)'s wrist and began to pull the suddenly not mute teen after him. The shorter seemed to be arguing to the point of his face turning bright red, but Gamzee simply chuckled and shut Tavros' apartment door behind them.
And took his wheelchair with them.
What?
Fuck.