Your name is John Egbert and you are noticing how tired you have grown.
It has been almost a week since you found that first box. The first box, anyway...
You recall the day you found it...
You stare at the note for who knows how much longer and you feel the wall you had put up earlier crumble at the edges. It's getting to you. It's getting to you. You have to get out. You slam your locker closed, forgetting the things that you needed to exchange and run down the hall for the second time that day. You hear the laughs of your peers as you run by.
"You up to it, Egbert?" you hear one of them call, "You got the balls to do what needs doing?"
You feel the crawling forcing their way out of your eyelids as you run out the front entrance of the school and into the damp and chilly air. You run and run and run, not caring that you have missed the bus, not caring that it was raining again. Just not caring anymore. But you care about this more than anything even though you know you shouldn't.
You finally stop running when you are about a mile away from your house and your breathing is coming to you in short gasps. Your throat is nearly sealed and you can feel the panic rise in you as you try to steady yourself. You set your backpack on the water logged sidewalk and hastily retrieve your inhaler. You begin to breathe again, slowly but surely, you begin to breathe. You stand there for a moment, in the rain, with your bag on the ground and you let the rain fall. Oh boy, do you let it fall. Your arms are finally noticing the icy rain that assaults you every chance it gets and there is an almost welcome sting as it splatters over your exposed flesh. You lift your face up to the sky and let the rain pound you and beat you and you know you have it coming. You know you deserve it. You feel the warmth of your tears streak from your eyes and mix with the cold tears that the sky cries and you can't feel their warmth anymore. You can't even feel the warmth of your tears anymore. Since when were you denied even that comfort?
Eventually, you can't handle your own weight anymore and you fall to the ground, your head resting against your bag. You just lay there, not caring if anyone sees you, not caring that the icy rain is soaking you to your core, not caring that the numbness is brings to you makes you feel better. You sit there and you think. You think and you think and you think and you think and, god, you wish you would just stop. You think about your dad and how he never seems to stop baking, never stopping, never stopping. And how you can't seem to catch a break on anything anymore.
You wish things would go back to the way they were a year ago. Where warmth was all you felt.
With rain and tear stained clothes, you stand up and brush the muddied gravel from your back as much as you can and pick up your bag from the sidewalk. You look back over your shoulder, back over to where you came running from and then look ahead to the place you didn't want to go. You want more than anything at that moment to just stay there. To be able to just sit there, in the rain, with nothing but yourself and your thoughts. But you know that you can't and you walk toward the place you are supposed to call "home."
The walk back to your house is a long one and you begin to feel an ache in your legs when you take the last few steps down the driveway, up the porch and through the front door. When you enter, you see your dad's raincoat on the coatrack and your stomach drops a little. You do not want to have to talk to him right now. You take off your shirt, which is dripping with water, and wring it out outside as best as you can. You come back in and remove your shoes, placing them beside your father's and placing your backpack next to those. You walk into the living room and hope that he's not there.
For once, your luck plays out. You can smell cake coming from the kitchen and you hurry upstairs before he gets the chance to come out and talk to you. You head straight for the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You know you probably don't have to worry about your dad walking in on you just to ask why you weren't home on time, but you don't want to risk it. You strip as quickly as you can, the cold water against your skin isn't as comforting as it was a half an hour ago, and hop in the scalding hot temperature of your shower. You stay there until the water runs cold.
That was last Monday.
It's been over a week since that first day and the whole situation has done nothing but get worse. You continually try to avoid all the battering of their insults and threats, but your thick skin is wearing thin. If you even had thick skin to begin with.
The next day seemed to be worse...
You walk onto campus with a stiff upper lip and a lowered chin. You sense that there are people around you, but you are looking at the ground where you can't even see people's feet because they are giving you a lot of space. More space than you are comfortable with. You adjust the strap on your backpack to try to cover up your nerves; it doesn't help at all. You continue down the hall, feeling the piercing eyes and dodging the "misplaced" feet. You reach your locker and you pray to whatever power is listening that there isn't something out of the ordinary in there. You open the door and of course there would be another box.
You grab the note first...
Egbert,
It's not nice to throw away a gift.
Love, V 3
You curse silently to yourself as you grab the box from its place and throw it in the trash again, not caring to open it because you know it will do nothing but make you feel worse about yourself. Once it makes a satisfying thud against the walls of the bin, you head back over to your locker and pretend that nothing's wrong. But of course you know that everything is.
The second day had gone by as slowly as the first had. Maybe even worse. The harassments that you suffered had been ramped up to yelling and more vicious shoving. You couldn't keep that up for long and you knew it.
But what were you going to do?
So here you are, pressing forward, trying to make sense of it all. Your dad, your classmates, the "presents"...
Him.
Ah yes, Him. He hadn't come to school for three days since the weekend. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. But he was there Thursday. And in those three days, you had time to think about how you were going to broach the subject. That gave you a bigger headache than anything...
You close your locker and hear a noise coming from somewhere down the hall. It sounds like a stack of books or something hit the ground. A silent, "SHIT," follows it. You instinctively turn your head and who you see makes your eyes widen, makes your breathing catch, makes your palms sweat slightly.
He is back.
You automatically turn your attention back to your locker. You are panicking slightly because you don't know what to do. You harden your resolve. This needs to be done and you are going to do it whether you want to or not.
You grab the books you need for your next class and slam the locker shut. You start walking toward where He is still picking up his books. He looks up for just a moment and sees you striding toward him. He finishes picking his books up quickly and has them stuffed in his bag in a flash, no doubt trying to avoid you. He begins walking away, but you won't have any of that.
"Karkat!" you shout down the hall after him. He freezes in place, his chance for a subtle escape gone. He turns around slowly and waits for you to approach, a defeated look on his face. You attempt to keep yours placid as you take the last few steps toward him, "We need to talk," you finish.
"Oh, you think?"he whispers harshly at you. You cringe inwardly at his harsh tone, but you remember almost instantly that this is how he always speaks. To anyone.
"Hey, man, don't be like that. I don't need this right now," you shift your weight subtly.
"Oh and you think that I do?" he looks around for a moment to see if anyone is watching. You know automatically that there is and when he realizes this, he grabs your arm to pull you to a deserted classroom. You follow him without prompting, knowing that this isn't the time to goof off with your-
"Okay, what the fuck?" he asks as he turns on you when the door closes. You throw him an accused look, "Oh, don't give me that look!"
"So what look should I give you then? Hm?" you ask, growing slightly angry, "Do you have any idea how hard I've had it these past few days? Do you?"
"No," his resolve cracks slightly and he glances down at his toes, "No, man. Look, it's just... you popped something pretty big on me Friday and I just can't ignore it. I can't just pretend it didn't happen."
"I'm not asking you to do that, Karkat! I just want-" you search for what to say, "I just want us to still be friends, man." He looks you in the eyes for a moment. Neither of you move. You just stand there and listen to your classmates outside pass by the room unawares.
"I don't know what to do," Karkat says, rubbing the back of his neck and turning away from you, "It's like, I don't even know how to act around you anymore. And it's not like..."
"What?"
"It's not like..." he hesitates, "It's not like I'm going to be around that much longer anyway..."
That takes you by surprise, worrying you slightly, "What does that even mean?"
"I was gone the last few days, right?"
You grow slightly suspicious, "I just thought you were avoiding me," you state, turning your head down slightly.
"Yeah, I can see that... but I wasn't actually skipping. Me and my family were checking out the house we're going to be living in. My dad got transferred and we're moving this weekend..." he trailed off. We sat there in silence for a moment.
"Wow," you say after a few seconds; it had felt like years, "Where are you going?"
"Texas," you sit in uncomfortable silence for another moment.
"That's... really far away..." you look down at your hands.
"Yeah, it is," you look up when you feel his eyes on you. You see him looking at you, like you had predicted, but his eyes are sad. It almost looks like he's about to cry, but you know for a fact that Karkat Vantas wouldn't let another human see tears run down his face.
"I don't blame you," you say.
"What?" he asks you in sincere confusion.
"I don't blame you for what those assholes are doing to me."
The look in his eyes tells you that you're on the same page, "Well why not? I was kind of the one who was shouting all over the place. I fucked up big time and it's- it's..." he couldn't finish, "Man, I just don't want those asshats out there fucking you up."
"Karkat, this isn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine for not talking to you in private about it."
"Oh, no. You are not blaming yourself for this, John."
"Why not? Those people out there seem to think that I'm a freak and a moron..."
"John, look. You know what? It's their fault. Theirs. Not yours. Not mine. Granted, I reacted really bad. But they're the ones who are treating you like something the cat dragged in, right?" he looks at you for confirmation. You nod at him because you can see the frustration burning there. It doesn't stop.
"Alright!"
"Are you sure you get it."
"Yes, I'm sure!"
"Cause I don't believe you."
"Karkat!"
He keeps staring at you, but it's not laced with frustration anymore. He almost looks... relieved? "Fine, I believe you," he states. He then surprises you as he walks over and wraps his arm around your waist. His shorter stature allows you to embrace him around his shoulders, his face pressed into his chest. You cherish the hug while it lasts and when he finally pulls away, your eyes are pricking with more tears. He looks up at you and his eyes are misty as well.
"You'll always be my best bro," he says, placing his hands on your shoulders, "nothing's gonna change it. I just wish that I could stay here and help with-"
"Karkat," you interrupt, you can tell that this irritates him, "I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine, I promise. I've got and iron resolve."
He gives you a half laugh, "That's bullshit and both of us know it."
You don't reply as both of you exit the room.
That conversation hadn't gone how you had expected it to go, but then again, you were planning on him being a complete jackass like he typically is, so it was a nice surprise when he didn't start yelling. You feel that it probably went as well as it possibly could have and that's reassuring.
You hear a loud beep coming from the laptop sitting at the foot of your bed. You silently shake yourself out of your stupor and lift your head off the pillow. Reaching sleepily for the computer, you rub the sleep out of your eye and let out a long yawn. Once you have the laptop on and sitting in front of you, you open up the Pesterchum app that is flashing on your desktop and see that Jade is pestering you.
gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 20:36
GG: john!
GG: hey john!
EB: hey jade!
EB: what's going on?
GG: i just wanted to check in and see how everything is going
GG: i know you had a bad day yesterday :(
EB: im doing better actually
GG: really?
GG: thats great!
GG: hey
GG: have you ever tried randomly pestering someone?
EB: you can do that?
GG: ...
GG: ill take that as a no...
GG: well anyway!
GG: i did and i met this really cool guy and i thought that he reminded me of you
GG: so i think you should become friends! :)
EB: uh jade?
EB: are you sure he's safe?
GG: what do you mean?
EB: well you met the guy on the internet
EB: that doesn't sound all that reliable to me...
GG: oh! i see what you mean.
GG: i skyped with him a while ago
GG: i think hes a pretty cool dude though and weve grown to be pretty good friends
GG: i just think you should meet him so that maybe we can all be friends! :)
EB: well...
EB: okay... i guess
EB: whats his name?
GG: his name is dave strider and his chumhandle is turntechGodhead.
EB: alright
EB: ill talk to him
GG: yay!
GG: ive actually got to go
GG: ill talk to you later john!
gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:04
EB: bye jade
ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 21:05
ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 21:11
EB: so
EB: how's it going over there?
TG: so i guess youre john then?
EB: wow
EB: yeah
EB: i guess jade told me about you?
TG: more like wont shut up about you
TG: the amount of words that come out of that girl's mouth about you is unreal
TG: like if i randomly picked words from what she's talked about
TG: wed get some pretty sick raps up in here
TG: so sick
EB: i dont doubt it
TG: so like
TG: youre jades brother and stuff
EB: cousing actually
EB: but its not hard to mistake
EB: she pretty much is a sister to me
TG: i hope its the good kind of sister
TG: cause trust me
TG: the bad kind sucks
TG: like not even ironic
EB: alright?
EB: you have a sister then?
TG: yeah
TG: but she gets pretty annoying sometimes
TG: wont even listen to my raps
EB: you rap?
TG: yeah, bro
TG: did you not just hear me go on a tangent about jades words being turned into a work of art?
EB: i do remember now
TG: yeah you do
EB: ...
TG: you wanna hear one?
EB: uh sure I guess
Dave then proceeds to throw together line after line after line of some "sick" rap he had written a while ago about orange soda not actually being that ironic. You patiently wait for him to finish.
EB: wow
EB: that WAS pretty sick
TG: i know
TG: you cant get more ironic than that
TG: there is just no way
EB: haha
EB: yeah i dont think i could ever do something like that
TG: thats just because youre not a strider
EB: haha i guess :B
TG: damn it
TG: bro wants to strife again
TG: fuck it
TG: hate to cut this short egbert
TG: but i got to go kick some supervising ass
EB: ?
TG: later
turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 22:08
EB: you fight with your bro?
EB: okay then
ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:08
You stare at the screen for a few more moments, trying to grasp exactly what just happened. You look at the clock on your computer and see that it reads 10:10. You haven't been able to stay up this late since last Friday. You look back at your computer screen. Dave Strider, huh?
You close your laptop and set it on your bedside table. You turn out the lights and think about your life. You can't help but glance at the backpack which contains the notes. All of them. Every single one.
A/N: Hey all!
I just wanted to thank everyone so much for all the follows/favorites/reviews, they make me feel good inside ^.^
But on another note, every grammatical error is put in here on purpose. I absolutely hated doing it, but it seemed to make sense for the specific characters -.- I repeat that the level of enjoyment is very low.
Also, I feel bad for taking so long on these chapters (school, am I right?), so I'm trying to make them significantly longer, which is good for me since I stink at giving my chapters any real substance. I thank you all for driving me to this point.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one and I'll try to move quickly and efficiently with the updates! 3
-AJ3