A/N: GOOD NEWS I AM STILL ALIVE, IN CASE ANYONE IS STILL STAYING WITH THIS STORY - which I now doubt. I haven't given up on the story, it's been two months, a lot worse than my usual delays, and I feel horrible over it. Honestly this has been done for a while. Like, at the beginning of November I got done with it. But I really wanted for someone to read it through since I kind of had some sparks in this. So I guess I wasn't distracted until I got done. I own up my mistake, and hopefully you guys forgive me. And I really hope this chapter is good! I've had some ideas, and they're probably going to be experimented in the next chapter.
Until then, I'll still be around. I'll try getting more updates quicker soon, and I'd really appreciate for any thoughts or criticism. If you like it, let me know! And as always, have a good day. -Porcy
Gamzee's bedroom days later returned to its casual clutters. His pants dead flat on his carpet and his shirts on his desk chair. It was morning and the blinds were shield shut. He woke up, eyes burning from lack of sleep, and the bed feeling hard as stone.
He stared at the ceiling with a blank mind; wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and hell, maybe the day before that too. He didn't want to move out of his covers, he was too much in a shameful guilt to wake up. His eyes clenched tight, hoping for some exhaustion to wash over him, but it only made him more awake.
Gamzee pushed the blankets in a careless force. He walked out of his messy room to the bathroom to start the day. And god, when was the last time he stared at the mirror?
His hair was wild and unkempt. He hadn't washed it in perhaps days. His eyes' bags were as near as worse as Karkat's. He sighed, ruffling his long fingers in his hair, leaning his elbow on the counter. What was wrong?
Days had passed ever since Karkat and Gamzee had hung out after a few years; a numbing tumor forming upon his mind. His softly bit his lower lip as he walked out of the bathroom and his eyebrows creased, forgetting to turn off the lights. He would've phoned Karkat to maybe hang out again, but he didn't want to bother Karkat at this time of the morning, and the fact that he was probably still job-hunting or already had a job. Gamzee was a shower of silver and gold, and he didn't have to care about anything. It felt in Gamzee's mind that he wasn't a part of his own life anymore of his common vacancy.
His past was an essence in his thoughts. His twinkling eyes gazing up at the ceiling once again. His cloudy mind remembered of his work schedule and that today was Monday - and that was one of his busiest days. He internally winced at such a beginning, bewildered of how the weekend could be so short-lived. He closes his eyes, nothing could get him out of his drowsy haze.
Alas, more thoughts poured into the evermore fountain of his mind. Gamzee, with his sluggish attitude and downpour state of mind, lazily gets ready for the day.
After all, it doesn't take long anyway.
Gamzee had taken a drive to a cafe, accepting coffee to maybe enlighten his mood and energy. He had to go to work in the next couple hours, might as well. When he entered the cafe, the brewing aroma of coffee and pastries fired up in his nostrils. Small tables of chatter surrounded the store. He took a strangled breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he walked to the large counter.
His eyes darted up to the menu, deciding to keep it plain and simple. "Small latte, please."
The clerk nodded. "That'll be three dollars and thirty-five cents then."
He pulled the money out of his torn wallet and handed it to the clerk. "Nice to see your sunshiny face on this miraculous morning, sis."
The clerk's eyes gave Gamzee a look of question. "Uh, yes, sir."
He frowned hearing the response, but hassled out of the way seeing another person behind him. He moved to one of the tables across the room and waited.
He saw of how long of a line was held even in just the mornings. Each person asking for an extravagant title of coffee and conversations being held in a messy unison. Damn, it's goddamn busy in the morning. Perhaps busier in the world, too. Gamzee was sure of it. He tapped on the polished wood of the table and heard his order from the counter.
"Thanks sis, you have a good day, m'kay?" He took the latte with a smile, getting out a twenty dollar bill and shoving it in the tip jar.
The clerk stared in awe. "You sure about all that money?"
"Positively sure, dear." He gave a friendly wink, and put his wallet in his pocket. "Have a good day."
He walked out of the cafe, surpassing a few people barging in as he was stepping out. The morning sun gleamed on the sidewalk and Gamzee's face. He was pretty sure he had enough time to relax before going to work.
He took an impatient sip of his coffee, and his tongue and mouth rejected the searing liquid at immediate touch. He swallowed the hot beverage down, not having another chance to spit it out, and he could feel the trail of the heat travel down his throat. He found his way to a bench and sat down, watching each car pass by on the road.
I wonder what Karbro's all up and thinking right now . . . He settled his coffee cup down on the empty spot of the bench, deciding that maybe, just maybe, he should wait until he takes another sip.
As minutes passed, the cars started turning foggy. The bright light faded into an obscure white, as Gamzee was starting to daydream. A soft, fuzzy ringing settling in his ear drums.
His eyelids drooped down, his long fingers tapped on the wood; sullen lips upside down, closing his eyes.
"Hey - hey, you asleep man?"
Gamzee's eyes fluttered open. He glanced up at the voice and saw a lanky man like him. He shut his eyes tight, and the colors returned.
"No man," Gamzee groaned. "morning ain't my thing, y'know?"
"Yeah, right back at you."
The man sat down beside Gamzee and got out a pack of cigarettes. He slid one out and loosely stuffed the cigarette between his lips, lighting a flame.
"Tired and shit, motherfucking life dragging me on the floor with my sore damn ankles." He complained, after time taking a second sip and feeling no effect. "Sorry for motherfuckin' preachin' so early in the morning, brother."
"No worries." The man pulled out another cigarette and waved it at him. "Need a smoke?"
"Nahh, I quit a while back."
"That's good news then."
"If that's so, bro."
The man tilted his head, his cigarette tilting with him. "You sound pretty doom and gloom, 'ere, man."
Gamzee paused, and sucked his lower lip. "It's all good."
A long cigarette plopped onto his lap. "Just in case if you need one, you can thank me later."
"Appreciate it."
He put the box of cigarettes back in his pocket. He gave a strong wave, and walked off down the street.
After seconds passed, Gamzee got off the bench and threw the cigarette on the concrete. He grabbed his latte and looked at his clock on his phone. He sighed; it wasn't even noon just yet.
Gamzee looked around his scenery, his face was swallowed whole of the bright sun, remembering of the backwash of the fading star in his disorientated state.
Hunching and in blue, he sauntered on the sidewalk, but just before he picked up the cigarette, and felt more at ease.
Karkat looked down at his attire. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt with matching black jeans. He looked at his partner, a buff, olive-skinned, long-haired man with the same attire as him. He felt as short as a blade of grass. The man stood several inches above him, exceeding to be more than six foot, and his prominence stood gravely in his robust stance. He kept eyeing his companion, and being anxious of how stupid and pathetic he must look beside a man probably made of stone. The building was dark, the air was hot of the lack of air conditioning, Karkat and the man sat down in their seats with their assigned security cameras.
¨You look like the fucking Hulk for this job,¨ Karkat exclaimed, gazing blankly into the main camera. ¨you'll be able to handle this job like you're walking on wriggler island."
¨Quite the intricate simile for such a security job, Vantas."
He rolled his eyes and kept watching. The retail store remained in traditional lock down. They were at the back of the farthest hallway that lead to the security room, it had been about an hour of perhaps worthless watching.
"This a new job for you? I just started - obviously, since you're the fucker that tagged along with me on this."
"Yes. Well, not precisely. I've done a few jobs all around the city like this; but having one with a partner yes."
Karkat nodded, his brows arched as he focused his attention into the scenery. He stopped at a certain camera and peered at it. Those mannequins I swear . . . .
Clothes upon silicon figures was scarce into the room, looking quite ominous in the dark. A rectangular glass case of jewels and brilliant engagement rings was in the center of the room, and Karkat realized of it's burnishing value of anybody. It was a quite nice retail store with expensive embellishments that any riches can endure; and thus being a security guard, this was a risky job. Precise? Karkat quietly smiled as he took his eye off the camera. He looked at his partner, proceeding his way out of the room.
Karkat didn't bat another eye over it and continued on his job, minutes passing on the drawn out night. He switched to the main camera, seeing the man walking in a line, a loud clonk audible in each step. He watched him walk, and couldn't help to feel small of his overpowering stance. His face formed a scowl.
His shoulders slumped, and he glanced at the passageway. His teeth biting onto his lower lip. It'd make sense for Roidhead to be wandering throughout the store as a threatening beast of prey upon anybody breaking in. You never know, really. Perhaps this will make a challenging team, one puny ambitious idiot watching the cameras like a preschool wriggler and a watchdog that takes on the real danger. Screw that man. Why couldn't he be so capable, like a real leader of some sort. Karkat took a heaving grimacing breath, as he felt an odd shadow behind him.
He snickered, thinking it might be Roidhead. He turned around seeing a black silhouette from head to toe, bashing the lights of his eyes.
Karkat's back slammed upon the table, knocking off close-by cameras with his waving arms; the sides of his body aching along with his head and spine. He glimpsed at the intruder, wondering how the hell he got here, and instead got up.
"Hey fuckass!" Karkat shouted, the fury rising inside his heart and through his vocal cords; a light bulb glistening inside his pupils. With his built-up strength, he punched the intruder in the jaw, the man quickly slumping down on the chair like a lingering rag doll. Karkat couldn't help but beam inside.
He gripped the black collar of the intruder, giving a superior smile upon his prey. Until stomping was heard from across the passageway, and in comes the man of significance and strong excellence. His hands clenched the back of the intruder's neck, and Karkat had thought he had broken the sucker's neck by his exasperated gasp. Karkat's grip broke loose as his partner lifted the intruder up in the air.
Karkat's palms formed into motionless fists staring up at the two. His partner was just holding the man up, neck in capture, his dangling body looking pathetic and hopeless. The light bulbs inside Karkat's seething eyes dimming to something more dead.
It's not fair that he couldn't be the one to save himself.
His mouth opened to form words, but nothing came out. He got up and nodded.
"Good job, he probably came here to stop me first since I'm with the equip-" Karkat felt a sharp sliver of a dagger pierce through his stomach. His mouth gaped open.
"Vantas . . . " He still kept the man's neck gripped, but his face was shocked as ever. "Never in my years had I seen this happen thus far . . . "
Karkat's knees sputtered down on the ground. After seconds his blood flowing into a small mess beside him. His mouth was open, but he kept quiet as he continued to bleed.
His partner took out his cellphone with a spastic pace. He called the ambulance and police, and Karkat's vision faded into obscure white, until it all transformed into a pitch black.
The car drove past the highways and streets to the hospital. Gamzee was going through insanity over seeing his best friend. Motherfucker got hurt on the first day - goddammit! If only I could've been there to . . . .
His cellphone rang inside his pocket. Without prohibition, he snatched the phone out of his pocket to read an old name: "Equius". It had been a while that he talked to him. This was odd.
"Yo, what's up now? I'm kinda busy on my plate bro."
"Despite me not enjoying your voice in my ear, I'm sure you've heard the grave news."
"News brother? Yeah, I motherfuckin' do have news ringin' in my ears at the moment. Shit hit me hard . . . " Gamzee's voice ticked down to a more desperate and melancholy tone. "How do you even know?"
"Because I was the one with him at that point in time."
Gamzee's felt an enormous cloud burst through his mind. His voice rung into a ragged crescendo. "Ohh brother?"
"Yes. I did all I could. I didn't know the man wielded a knife. Good news being that he'll be able to survive just fine with the proper treatment."
Gamzee heavily sighed. "How long will he be cooked up in there?"
"Perhaps a week. I'm going to have to work alone this week due to present events."
"Good checkin' up with ya then, I guess."
"I suppose best wishes for Vantas, Makara."
The phone call ended. Gamzee tried focusing on the street but he felt as if his eyesight was blurred by incoming tears. He kept his eyes open to suppress himself, the hospital being only a quick distance away.
When Gamzee got into Karkat's room, he froze; seeing the distressed Karkat lying in his bed looking miserable as ever. With his glance, he then gazed up at him too.
The bags under his eyes that had been inhabiting him for years grew deeper under his sockets. His mildly fit arms looking like a loose part of an ancient plush doll, and Gamzee couldn't help but see the medical equipment that crowded the small hospital room. Gamzee's mouth gaped open. "Bro . . . m-man, shit looks bad."
"Said it'd be fine." Karkat's voice was small and weak. A look of woe and numbing pain smoothing on his face. "I'm so fucking stupid, Gam."
"No, no, it's all motherfucking fine." He approached a chair aside by the white wall and sat in it. "What all motherfuckin' matters now is you seeing the colors of the sky again. Thank the goddamn Messiahs for that, Kar."
"Not really." Karkat sputtered up. "Fuck the world, screw my useless brains out. I'm surprised my depleting brain damage didn't kill me in the first place."
Gamzee's eyes dulled into an aghast glow. "What you just say?"
"Are you brain damaged too?" Karkat scoffed sadly, looking down the sheets that was under him as a fortress. "I can see why you beat me up those years ago . . . "
Gamzee was now stunned. His mind traveled down the speed of light to his banished memory, and over the immediate recall he wanted to dart out of the room. The lanky man slouched down into his seat, resting his head with his hiding hands; a bottle of fury stuffed in his throat.
"Don't ever fucking say that again."
Karkat looked at Gamzee curiously, then sighed. "Sorry."
The room rung in silence besides the residing phone rings, quiet talking, and walking outside. Karkat then heard a quiet sniff, and elongated shuffling, glancing at the clown dropout walking out the door.
"And Karbro-" He said before facing outside of the passageway. "get well soon. Love you best motherfuckin' bro."
Karkat's stare exceeded even after Gamzee left.