A/N so this is kind of a vent chapter, and i'm sorry if anything doesn't make sense, but it's still kind of important to the story i think?

yeah. fluffy little sandwich kids.

He rides with you on the public bus to make sure you make it home safe. You insist on him coming up to meet your mother, whom you know is probably freaking out, despite how many times you texted her to remind her that you were okay and coming home in the morning. She's smothering you a little, and it's weird how of all times, she chooses your last month to smother you. But then, she couldn't before, could she?

You aren't the least bit anxious about him meeting her. In fact, you're a little excited. This isn't really a "bring your lover over to meet the parents" thing, since he never really did ask you out. He crashed the second he got you out of your chair and into the guest bed (which was the bottom bunk of his bed). Still, though, you just really want them to meet. You do, however, think you would be more nervous if he had come in full makeup, because your mother is terrified of clowns.

You get off at the stop just outside your apartment building. Gamzee pushes you to the elevator and, once at your floor, down the open hall to your door. The entire time he's asking you questions about the place, questions like, "How long have you lived here," "Do you know many of the neighbors," "Do many children play in the park," and other questions such as those. You answer each softly with a smile on your face.

The jiggling of your key in the lock alerts your mother that you're finally home, and she yanks the door open before Gamzee's managed to insist enough for you to let him get it for you. The two of you are frozen in your spots, eyes wide for only the tiny moment before your mother is hanging on you.

"Tavros! Gosh, I was so worried! I mean, I know you told me where you were, and that's fine, but goodness, I was so, so worried…"

"Moooom," you groan. Then, just to make sure she doesn't bring it up, you hiss in her ear, "Don't, um, bring up the thing."

The woman immediately jerks back and trains her eyes on Gamzee. "And who is this…?" she asks politely, giving a soft but wary smile.

You take a deep breath. "Mom, this is, um, Gamzee Makara. He owns the, uh, circus."

Gamzee smiles a wide toothy smile and bows slightly at the waist, offering a hand to shake. "It sure is a pleasure to be meetin ya, sis," he greets. "I figure since it's up and getting on my mind I ought to get the askin on. Would big momma be opposed to me getting my date on with this noble brother here?"

And that's how it starts. His hand comes down on top of your head and rubs your Mohawk gently, still grinning at your mother, who casts a surprised and anxious glance at you before stuttering an affirmative response.

Your first official date is a picnic in a park. It's raining, so the two of you sit under the large weeping willow that acts as the central landmark in the park. Every so often a drop drips on you or him and he has half a mind to throw the picnic blanket over the machinery you're riding around in. You refuse because, well, the amount of rust that could accumulate on metal from just that small amount of rain in thirty days won't cause it to fall apart. It is sweet that he's thinking about it, though, and you laugh, accepting another piece of pie. Thirty-two days remain.

Two more dates that any normal person would say went disastrously wrong pass before you two kiss for the first time. You get the feeling that at first he's just caught up in the moment, seeing as he somehow managed to turn a bar fight into a big 20's style party, with dancing and laughing and the antagonists too scared of Gamzee's anger to start trouble. It's the first time you've seen him so angry, but when the party gets going and he gets all excited, he kisses you, and you don't worry too much. His lips are broken a little from the chapping that happens without the greasepaint, but you prefer the taste of blood to that vile oil stuff anyway. You mentally promise to get him chapstick later before you are kissing him back. Twenty-seven days remain.

The first time you meet his brother is a little awkward. You met him before, the day you and Gamzee met, but this time, it's official, and it's formal. Gamzee's dressed like he normally is, raggedy baggedy pants, torn-up chucks, and this time, his shirt is just black. Kurloz, his brother, is dressed in a long turtleneck which hangs on his frame in a way that shows off his lithe muscles, and black leggings, no shoes. His hair is a mess of curls atop his head and spilling down to about the base of his neck. You take the time to notice the small kinks at the ends of Gamzee's sleek, layered black hair, where they curl up near his eyes and around his ears and along his jaw. You then realize you're staring at Gamzee, blush, hold out a hand to the man with the stitched mouth, and blush some more under the lanky magician's knowing smile. You come out of it feeling like you've just met God—or Satan. Twenty-four days remain.

You quickly feel like maybe things are moving too slowly. Something crosses your mind that you never thought you'd want, but you've fallen for the guy, and well, you aren't going to live forever.

You've got eighteen days left until you're gone for good when you work up the nerve to tell him you want to have sex.