Author's Note: Ppppppppllllllllooooooootttttttt... So much plot. o_o I had a great amount of fun writing this chapter. It gave me a lot of good practice writing a way I normally wouldn't, too, and for that I'm glad. And I did quite enjoy coming up with a backstory for Porrim, not to mention Sollux's speech impediments were immense fun to write and that whole last paragraph in the dream with Karkat wasn't added until I'd almost finished, but I'm really happy with the way it turned out. Speaking of Sollux's speech impediments, the "I" rule is that any "I" sound as in "lie" or "in" got stretched, but "I" sounds that were actually long E sounds, like in "earlier," didn't. And my innocent little Karkat baby... Sollux corrupted him within ten minutes of having met him. XD
Again, blame school for the abnormally long wait. And also I got in a fight with my best friend and it left me feeling like absolute shit for like three days and I didn't do anything then except cry to my boyfriend about what a shitty friend I am, which in turn made me cry harder because I was just using him then as a backboard for all my shitty emotional problems and it was making me feel like a bad girlfriend, too, and it just wasn't a good couple of days that could have easily been avoided but I'm glad happened because I think they needed to. Anyway, now her and I are all better again I think and my incredible boyfriend only ever rarely gets mad at me so him and I are definitely good and I got a huge morale boost from one of my guy friends today because he was just being a great friend and saying super sweet things about how I needed to smile and I got trapped in a bus seat with him today and he spent the whole bus ride talking to me and actually listening to me and letting me cry against him and I just really needed that. So life's better again and I'm getting back into the horrible groove of school and it's all just so exhausting and okay, let's move on with the story because I'm sure all this boring shit about me is just that; boring and uninteresting and you're just here for SolKat.
GUYS MY FRIEND DREW A FANART (ironically, the same friend I was talking about having fought with last paragraph). If you wanna go see it, check tumblr tag "SolKat (Broken Thoughts) art" and maybe follow me (professor-snap) if you want. That tag's where I'll put all of my fanart for this story. My other friend is drawing me a thing and somebody else just offered to draw me a thing and so much yes, I'm gonna cry, I'm so happy. All I want is for this story to be one of those that can make people happy (wow this is not the chapter to write that on. Or maybe it is? I guess I mean in an overall sense) and for people to be making me fanart means that's a dream I'm very gradually getting closer to achieving and thank you all for sticking with me and reviewing and stuff and I hope more than anything that this story from nowhere brought even a little bit of joy to you at some point because all I really wanna do is make people happy. :) You're all wonderful, amazing people, and I thank you so much for letting me be a part of your life. Cheesy as fuck ranting over with, now let's really move on.
Chapter Sixteen my friends, read on.
I returned to the kitchen minutes later. Hiding evidence of my most recent tears was no easy feat. Sollux stood in front of the stove, watching two pans and occasionally nudging their contents with a spatula. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, stretching up on my tip-toes to rest my head on his shoulder. He smiled softly and let his head fall gently against mine. No words were said; none were needed. It was nice to just hold him, because so often, he was the one holding me, and now it seemed like he needed the comfort of being held more than I did.
I watched him cook for a bit longer before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and walking slowly to the dining room table. Soon, I sat with my head against the table, exhaustion from a poor nights' sleep catching up with me. Within seconds, the sharp clank of the aluminum spatula against the cast iron pans faded and I drifted silently into a hazy doze.
"Alright, say 'Mississippi!'" you demand.
"Why-y should I-I?" he replies, prolonging his "I" sounds in the strange way that he does. "Mi-ith'i-ith'i-ippi-i," he murmurs softly to himself.
You laugh. "That sounds so weird when you say it."
"Shut up, wi-ill you! I-It'th' not my-y fault my-y mouth doeth'n't work the way that i-it should!"
"Leave him alone already! Can you not see that you're upsetting him?" A young girl speaks from behind you. You turn your head and see none other than the same leadership volunteer, teacher's pet, and Far More Sophisticated Than Is Necessary straight-A student you've been going to school with since fourth grade, miss Kanaya Maryam. Even now it's easy to see that she's trying too hard to break free of her sister's shadow. Porrim Maryam, her older sister of two years, is the perfect student; clean track record, no detentions, no tardies or absences, always does her homework, gets Valedictorian every year since fourth grade, not to mention she does volunteer community service on the weekends and runs for Student Body President (and wins) whenever the opportunity arises. She's easily the "better" sister of the two, according to the adults.
Personally, you can't see what Kanaya has to be worried about. Sure, she isn't as good as her sister at some things. She only ever gets second place in top grades at the end of the year, even in the two years her sister went to a different school, and sometimes she can't finish her assignments on time. She's been seen in detention on occasion, and she's also been known to disrupt the rare class period by bursting in five minutes after the bell rings. But nobody's perfect, and this eleven year old cambodian girl is no exception.
"I'm not upsetting anybody Kanaya, mind your own business," you shoot sharply at her, turning back to the boy.
"Yeah, mi-ind your own buth'i-ineth'," he adds.
You snicker and bury your face against your shoulder. "It sounds funny when you say business, too." It's kind of adorable, you think sheepishly. Wait, where did that come from?
"Th'top i-it!"
"I'm not making fun of you, you know."
He raises an eyebrow at you, cocking his head slightly. "Li-ike hell you aren't."
"Hey, you shouldn't say things like 'hell.' It's isn't nice. But yeah, I'm not laughing at you. I think the way you talk is pretty cool, actually."
"I-I don't thi-ink that could have been a more blatant li-ie i-if you'd th'ai-id outri-ight, 'I-I'm ly-ying, by-y the way.'"
"But I'm not! I like the way you talk."
"That'th' alth'o a li-ie. I-I know becauth'e i-it'th' not poth'i-ible to li-ike th'omething, or someone, that th'oundth' thi-ith' th'tupi-id."
"That's not true," you murmur shyly. "I think your... what's it called, lithp? I think it's really awesome."
"I-It'th' not pronounth'ed 'li-ith'p, dumbath',' i-it'th' pronounth'ed... fuck. I-It i-ith' 'li-ith'p,' but you pronounth'e i-it wi-ith an eth' th'ound. I-I can't not li-ith'p i-it, and whoever the hell came up wi-ith that word wath' a th'i-ick, twi-ith'ted bath'tard."
"Seriously, you shouldn't curse. And 'eth?' The heck is an 'eth?' Eth. Eth. Oh, ess! I get it. So it's a 'lisp' then?"
"Yeah, that'th' it. I-It'th' not cool or funny, i-it'th' really annoying and i-it fuckth' up what I-I th'ay th'o bad that people have trouble underth'tanding me. I-I'm taking th'peech therapy to get i-it under control, but I-I've been i-in i-it for a couple years and i-it doeth'n't th'eem to be helping at all."
"No, it's totally cool. I'd love to have a lisp. I guess I can just pretend to have one, like juth't th'tart lith'ping becauth'e I can."
"Don't do that, i-it'th' not funny! KN, can you tell hi-im to shut up?" You look at him in confusion until you realize that KN is short for Kanaya. What's with the two-letter shorthand? you wonder.
Looking back, you watch her cross her arms and close her eyes, turning her head in a snobbish manner and stating, "I'm sorry, I can't do that. I'm minding my own buth'i-ineth', remember?" You nearly snort in laughter, because for once, her contemptuous scorn isn't directed at you.
"God, you're uth'eleth'," he mutters.
"Don't call her useless!" you snap immediately, whipping back around and glaring at him. "She works harder than anybody and people still ignore her sometimes 'cause of Porrim, 'cause adults are mean and horrible and they don't stop to think about what their kids need. I'm here complementing the way you talk and you're cursing and calling people useless, what if I called you useless because of your stupid speech impediments? You wouldn't like it, would you? So how about you shut the frick up and leave her alone? And speaking of leaving people alone, I don't think I really wanna talk to you anymore, 'cause you're just as mean as all those idiots who forget about Kanaya."
He stares at you as if you'd just done the most ultimately unexpected thing. Dangit, now he's not gonna wanna be my friend. The frick was I thinking? you ask yourself harshly. "...You really noticed all that?" Kanaya's soft voice comes from behind you again. You turn to her and feel this ridiculous blush rising on your cheeks.
"Well... yeah. I mean, i-it's not like it's obvious or anything! I just... I notice — noticed — a lot of things that other people don't think about because... nobody liked me in fourth grade. Or fifth. B-But I have friends now, so it doesn't matter." She smiles quietly at you and walks closer, until she's mere inches away.
"I think it is wonderful that you notice things like that, but I am highly embarrassed to say that I don't even know your name," she admits, a similar blush rising in her own cheeks.
"Oh, I'm uh... I'm Karkat. Vantas."
"Karkat?" the lisping twelve year old cuts in with a giggle. "The fuck ki-ind of name i-ith' that?"
You growl under your breath and sneer at him. "My kind of name, you... you... you ass!"
"Oh, look who fi-inally came out of hi-ith' cocooned li-ittle comfort zone," he teases, grinning at you with a face full of metal. Sun glints off his braces as he adds, "Come on, try-y i-it agai-in. Th'wear."
You can almost taste the smug superiority rolling off of him in waves. "Why would I do that? I'm not gonna use that kind of language just 'cause you tell me to."
"Fi-ine," he shrugs, taking a step towards you. You don't think anything of it until he gets just as close as Kanaya is. "I-In that cath'e, I-I'll juth't have to make you!" With that, he grins wildly and shoves you back roughly into the empty hallway.
"Hey, what the fffffrick!" you shout, hopping back to avoid another push. The empty school campus is so ominous; it's just the three of you in the sixth graders' hall. All the teachers are in the lounge or office doing teacher things and now you're here getting pushed around by some kid you don't even know because you didn't want to walk home yet.
All because you wanted to make at least one friend in this town that had all-but forgotten you.
All because you wouldn't swear at him.
It only takes that one thought for your whole mind-set to change, and in that change, you get the idiotic idea to simply do what he tells you to.
Just as he reaches out to push you again, you manage to stop his hands with yours and knock them away before moving yours to his chest and pushing him back so hard he falls on his butt — you mean, ass. "What the fuck is your problem, you piece of shit?!" Holy damn that felt good, you notice. "What in the hell are you fucking shoving me around for, asshole? Is it fucking fun pushing me?"
"Hey, there you go. Now you're th'tarting to fucking get i-it," he tells you from the concrete with a self-satisfied smirk, propping himself up on his elbows.
You know a few cuss words. Nowhere near enough to maintain the level of cussing you're planning on attaining without beginning to sound repetitive, though. You figure this gives you a perfect opportunity to create some cuss words of your own. "Listen, fuckass, next time you wanna be an assbiting fuckpod, kindly leave me out of it, 'cause the last fucking thing I need is some douchebag fuckhole—"
"God, could you stop that?!" Kanaya's normally calm, collected voice bursts out with a fury you wouldn't have expected in a hundred years. "It's bad enough I had to watch you two hitting each other, now you're swearing and you both sound so patronizing and... eugh, just shut up!"
"KN—"
"Why are you calling me that?"
"I-It'th' eath'ier than 'Kanay-ya,'" he offers, shrugging. She growls softly under her breath. The kid stands up and walks over to you again, this time in a much less threatening way. "Name'th' Th'ollukth', by-y the way," he says calmly. "That'th' wi-ith an eth' and an ekth'. And KN, we weren't hi-itting each other." Out of nowhere, Sollux's fist pulls back then flies into the side of your head, knocking you brutally to the ground.
The last thing you hear before you pass out completely is, "That wath' me hi-itting hi-im."
The first conversation I ever had with Kanaya played through my mind while I slept. It also happened to be the first time I met Sollux, who was a skinny, lispy little fuck even back then with a problem making any "I" sound and an undiagnosed emotional disorder. Kanaya was a sweet, soft-spoken girl with medium-brown hair and a desperate desire for acceptance, both from her peers and her parents. Her parents were good folk, really, save for the fact that they revered their older daughter as a perfect child and Kanaya was always the afterthought.
In my opinion, Porrim was a wannabe rebel, stuck-up feminist until her senior year, when she finally caught on and chilled the fuck out. That was the year she got her piercings and, due to her long-standing personal friendship with the superintendent, got away with wearing ridiculously low v-neck dresses and midriff shirts when other girls got stopped for a bra strap showing. That was the year she decided she was the hottest shit on the planet, stopped giving a single shit about her grades, and began going to parties with the popular kids. That was the year not-so-false rumors of her flings with members of the football team, as well as the cheerleaders, quickly flooded the campus. She took them all in her stride, even proving some true when pressured. That was the year I lost any grudging respect I'd built for her.
Kanaya, on the other hand, took her sister's lapse in give-a-fuck as an opportunity to finally beat her. By the end of her sophomore year, the younger Maryam had surpassed her sister at the top of her class, and Porrim almost didn't get to walk, much less graduate with Salutatorian or Valedictorian. Kanaya, on the other hand, worked even harder throughout the next few years and graduated at the top of her class with honors and a satiny Valedictorian sash to complete the look. We went to a pool party later as our first act as non-students, and I found the exact same sash hung from the ceiling, my clothes tied to it and me left nearly naked. She always told me Vriska talked her into that one, but I always got the feeling it was her idea all along.
A gentle thud on the table broke me out of my sleepy daze. Looking up, I found before me a plate containing two pancakes, a few strips of bacon, and of course, a couple of eggs, easy over. Beside the plate rested a fork and knife atop a napkin, and more towards the center of the table was a large creamer cup filled with my favorite cherry syrup. Rather than sitting across from me, Sollux dragged a chair around and took a seat directly next to me. I saw it as the perfect chance to thank him for cooking for me, and did so with a gentle kiss on the cheek. I quickly tucked into my meal and finished just before he did.
When Sollux finished his meal, I took his plate and put them both in the sink, rinsing off the syrup and ketchup so it wouldn't become a thick, sticky, syrupy mess. Looking back, I saw my boyfriend playing my game as Allessia on Dark Alliance. I leaped onto the couch and quickly joined in as Ysuran. "Swap," I murmured. He nodded and we switched controllers so smoothly our characters didn't even stop walking. Forcing myself to focus on the game kept my mind off of other things — off of Kanaya. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the mind-numbing monotony of playing through a game I'd completed so many times I lost count.
At some point, I felt my eyelids drooping and realized I was still tired. When we were in an empty passageway, I paused the game. Sollux looked at me quizzically and I blinked back, murmuring quietly, "I'm so tired. I think I need a nap." His eyebrow furrowed and without hesitation he stood and picked me up, same way he picked me up when he was taking me to the hospital months ago. It was almost enough to make me smile. Rather, I growled, "That doesn't mean I can't walk, fuckass."
He silenced any further protests with a kiss pressed to my forehead and replied, "Shut up and let me carry you." Soon enough, he was setting me lightly on his bed, tucking me in like a fucking seven year old. It was oddly reassuring. I'm not sure why, but as he started to leave, I reached out and grabbed his arm. I think it was that I couldn't bear the thought of being alone.
"Please stay," I whispered. He nodded, and I pushed myself towards the inside of the bed as he lay on top of the blanket, curled beside me.
Nothing was said for a while. It was just me thinking, and looking at him, and admiring everything about him. What if it had been him last night? I wondered. What if I'd made Kanaya stay here and he left in some blind rage and drove to Feferi's. He would have had to go the same way. He would have had to go through the intersection of 63rd and Portland Avenue. That would have been at the same time she drove through. Trevor would have hit him, and our rusted old piece-of-shit pickup wouldn't stand even half as much of a chance against Trevor's massive-ass truck. It would have torn ours in half like a knife through butter. It would have made Sollux into mincemeat. Trevor probably wouldn't have even stopped. He would have counted it as another point for his revenge against me, somewhere in his alcohol flooded brain, he would have made the connection from Captor to Vantas and he would have reveled in the fact that he'd broken me down further.
"Hey. Are you okay?" Sollux voice sounded quietly in my ear. I wasn't sure why he was asking until his thumb brushed against my cheek. I must have been crying, I thought numbly. Again.
"No." He nudged himself forward and kissed me, so softly it was like he wasn't even there.
"I'm th'orry."
"What are you sorry about?"
"Everything. The world'th' a th'orry plath'e." I wanted to think about his words, wanted to find the deeper meaning, but I was too tired to think anymore.
Instead, I curled up next to him, me in my pajamas and him in jeans and a tee-shirt, and said the only thing that came to mind; "I love you." Shit. I closed my eyes and forced myself not to make excuses for that. I wasn't sure why I said it. I wasn't sure I felt it. But that warmth that I only ever felt with him had to be something, and our relationship wasn't one where you had to be dating for six-plus months before you could tell if you'd be compatible with each other. We'd known each other for years. We were both so fucked up. And we both didn't care. The only thing the two of us had cared about in our friendship was each other, now doubly so with dating. We knew we worked well together. As friends, as lovers — even when it was still weird to think of us as such. I'd felt so strongly for him for so long without return, it still sounded unreal to call him my boyfriend, sounded impossible that I'd achieved something so incredible. Does that mean it's too early to tell him I love him? If I'm not even entirely comfortable with calling him my boyfriend, does that mean it's weird for me to tell him that? How am even I thinking this? My brain is fucking Jello, I'm too tired for this shit. I tried to shake the thought. I didn't want to keep figuring out different ways or reasons for me to have fucked up again.
A deep kiss shook me out of my self-inflicted micro-terror, making my eyes shoot open in surprise. I'd been expecting maybe a conciliatory hug and the ever-worrysome, "I think it'th' too early to be th'aying that." Fear was a great manipulator in relationships. You could spend years with nothing but hugs and kisses and still say you're in a happy relationship because saying anything else would upset your partner and you were too afraid to initiate romance beyond that which had already been done. Saying "I love you" was generally considered one of the more major milestones in any relationship. It was generally something that affected your attitude towards each other a hundredfold, even in the smallest way.
It was generally something you didn't say to someone for the first time less than twenty-four hours after a good friend of yours died.
And yet, here we were, me with a tentative, hopeful smile and a more violent blush than I'd ever endured and him with one almost half as bright and a grin nearly twice as wide. My smile grew to rival his when he whispered, "I love you, too, KK." I couldn't think of anything to say in reply, so I just kissed him back.
"I didn't mean to say that," I murmured, my lips still pressed against his. My eyes remained wide open, unblinking and boring into his.
"I had a feeling you didn't. You do mean it though, right?"
"Yeah," I answered, nervousness making my stomach churn. "I do. I really do. I love you a lot. Sometimes you do something or you say something and I just get this warm feeling and everything's good for a bit, and I don't feel bad about smiling then. Like the stars aligned just right and they made time slow down and everything gets really okay for a while. Everything gets... better. All because of you, and this great warm feeling you give me when you do certain things. It doesn't even have to be anything fancy. Just mundane little things; like watching you cook earlier, or when you came and sat by me on the couch this morning. Or the way you looked at me... y-yesterday. After you asked if I could help you with your meds. Just little things."
My voice had gotten more quiet when I brought up yesterday. I couldn't believe that it was just yesterday that we'd — that I'd sucked him off. And while I was busy, while my mouth was full of him, Kanaya was probably being rushed into the back of an ambulance. The perversity of that thought paired with the anxiety I'd gotten telling Sollux I loved him was making me feel sick. I shook my head and forced myself to think of something else; Sollux's medication was first to come to mind.
"Speaking of your meds," I began, looking at him expectantly.
"I took them this morning." There was a slight exasperation to his tone, but also a deep running affection.
"Good." I closed my eyes and rolled over so that I faced the wall. Then I scooted back until I was lying flush against him. He kissed the back of my neck and wrapped an arm loosely around my stomach.
"I love you, KK," he whispered into my ear. "I love you th'o much and I wanted to th'ay that a long time ago but I had to let you th'ay it firth't becauth'e I didn't want to freak you out or anything and—"
"Shut up. I know how you are." He kissed my neck again and I snuggled closer to him. "I'm gonna take a nap."
"Alright. I'll th'tay here with you, okay?"
"Mm-hmm." He held me close and nuzzled his face into my neck. That was the last thing I felt before sleep overcame me.
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