Neckties and the Art of Getting Kicked Out of Galleries
Author's note: I felt like I should say that the narrative point of view often shifts between the third person, and adopting Karkat's point of view in order to bolster effect; there are things that often become easier to describe from the characters perspective. Once again, if you have any critique, helpful suggestions, or any burning questions, feel free to leave a review or send me a message.
Chapter 2
By Theta Waves
Time sure flies when you're terrified.
Sweeps ago, when Karkat sat at home wondering what his life would be like when he was older, standing in front of a lovely door at an alien's apartment, holding a tray of chicken-salad sandwiches, about to sweat through your shirt with nervousness and scared enough to vomit was the furthest scenario from your mind. The sweat problem, though, gave him a new sympathy for Equius.
He had picked up the tray of flavorless-looking sandwiches on the way over. He was walking along the street at a constant low-level panic about the whole Jade-affair when he was gripped by the sudden fear of looking like a fool if he brought nothing to this shin-dig. He ducked into a corner store, and spent eight fruitless minutes looking for a nice tray of vegetables, fruits, and that nice speckled dip. When he caught the tray of chicken salad finger sandwiches with his eye, he paused, stared at it in a thoughtless haze for a long moment, before audibly shrugging out, "Who doesn't like chicken salad?"
And now, he was here, four floors up in a nice apartment building, and contemplating throwing himself, along with his delicious party gift, out the nearest window.
Instead, he stared hopelessly into the metallic lettering on the door of apartment 413, looking for answers in the chrome work.
They held none.
Damn you, human chrome work.
He carefully raised a shaking left hand, and tap tap taps on the door.
Wait, what? Don't tap it, knock or something, idiot.
He tried to steel himself, adopted his trademark rude outrage, and decided to just open the door in a Karkat-like fashion, only to be greeted by the sight of a nice looking elderly couple reading a newspaper together.
He locked eyes with them, and spoke not a word, as words could not describe his mortification, in what was the single most self-defenestration worthy moment in his life
"Wrong uh, -er, wrong door…nice place."
He gave them a little bow, nearly tripped on his feet, and backed out of the room slowly as he softly shut the door. Now that the door was closed, he felt he was perfectly justified in shouting-
"HELL AND HUMAN HORSESHIT!"
To his left, as if on cue, an identical door opened to reveal the pale Rose human leaning on the doorframe, with a very slight curl about the ends of her lips.
"Wrong door, Karkat? We keep telling you that we're in apartment four-fourteen."
"You guys can go to Hell! Four-thirteen is a super significant number, it's only right that you live there! You're only living one apartment over just to mess with me, aren't you?"
"We felt it best not to tempt fate. Won't you come in?"
"Why yes, how kind of you to finally offer after leaving me stranded out here.
He glared at her as he marched past her over the threshold and into the abyss. Now that he was here, the fear of what lay behind the door was replaced by reality, and the speculation of everything that could go wrong.
Rose passed him on the left, swaying in the way she always does past the glass coffee table toward the open doorframe that led to the kitchen. John sat at the perfectly white fabric couch next to Dave as Rose passed, looking up at her with that doofy grin he always had around her. Dave pretended not to notice John's ogling as he half-lied on half the sofa.
The room itself was bright, warm and inviting; Rose's taste in décor always amazed you juxtaposed to her dark interests and tendencies. A rectangle, twenty feet across and nearly as wide. The couch is in the center atop gray-blue carpeting and facing a wall the housed the television. All about said television, lay John's shrine to cinema. You call it that in your mind, it's really just John's admittedly impressive collection of nearly every movie imaginable. And yes, he will tell you, they are all completely necessary. Whether or not they were any good is a different story. Behind the couch a tall window interrupts periwinkle walls that remind you of the sea. The whole room does, strangely enough. The doorframes are all painted white (Rose's idea) and you think it works quite nicely. On the right side of the couch, across the floor, are two empty doorframes: On the left, the kitchen, and on the right, the hallway. Gamzee sits on the back of the couch, looking dazed and staring vacantly toward the window. Terezi stands in front of him, talking with Kanaya whose indecipherable expression is probably due to Terezi's …abrasiveness.
Well, good, you think as you finally breathe out, no Jade as of yet. Maybe she's sick.
"Hey, Karkles!" Terezi grins at you in her Cheshire cat fashion that never ceases to weird you out. "I was starting to think you'd never show up1"
"Oh yeah! Hey, buddy, what's up?" John joins in, looking at you sidelong from the couch, genuinely pleased, "You didn't walk into the wrong apartment again did you?"
"Take that human mouth-carpet of yours, knot it, and swallow it whole, Ebgert."
"We all love you too, Karkat."
"You should tell me where these belong, or else I might not be able to help myself from stuffing your stupid protein chute full with them." You gesture to the sandwiches to be clear. John raises an eyebrow. Probably because why the hell did you bring chicken salad sandwiches, anyway?
"Um… in the fridge, in the kitchen."
"Thanks for the directions, Magellan"
The bits of knowledge you've picked up from human culture further let you understand how shortsighted and tiny-minded their species is, but lets you insult them in a manner they'll understand better. You hope it makes insult hit that much closer to home.
You take off on your new heading toward the kitchen, Rose passing you on your way, and sitting herself down in her proper, mannerly, and utterly precocious way on the couch. Gog, does she have to put on her dumb human airs all the time? The part of you that's always second-guessing asks you how you can tell she's being precocious, and you're just a cultureless slob. That's the part you hate, though.
You walk into the small kitchen and look left toward the refrigerator that you're going to somehow fit a covered tray into, when you notice that it's already being perused by a large, unruly mass of tresses and tresses of jet black hair leaving the person behind them, unidenti—Oh no it's Jade.
She cocks her head as if she's heard something, and turns toward you. This does nothing to disprove your theory that human females have a sensory adaptation that allows them to smell fear. All the females you've asked say no, and then rarely talk to you again, but you know they just keep it secret; yes you're sure of it. You consider setting the tray on the counter and booking it, but before you know it, it's too late, and she's turned right around to meet you. All goofy smiles, and wide, wire-rimmed glasses.
"Karkat? Karkat!" Her light dusting of freckles are pushed up by here genuine grin, just when you though a smile couldn't get any wider. "Oh, Karkat, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" She goes in for a hug, and, in a clever move, you excuse yourself from it due to the tray in the way of the two of you. You could swear disappointment crosses her face.
"Yes, Harley. It is I, Karkat. Now get your pallid hide away from the fridge. My precious cargo," you hold up the tray, "needs to be in that sustenance trunk five minutes ago."
This earns a wrinkling of the nose from her.
"Of course, brave Sir Knight!" She jumps to the side, doffs an imaginary hat, and bows low.
"Keep that up, Harley, my ego could use some stoking." This may or may not be a lie. "Now if you don't mind, there's a blonde headed garbage-pan out there who, I'm very sure, wants to talk with you; which would very conveniently allow me to proceed with the food.
That last bit elicited a frown, and another cock of the head, from her. You try not to meet her gaze.
"I've already been talking to them, and you've only just arrived. I want to talk with you now."
You shrug, unsure of what the right response is if there is one. "Yeah, well…"
She doesn't seem to want to move, so you approach with the tray, only to meet disaster when you're ankle gives just for a moment, and you pitch forward. With the covered tray occupying your hands, you simply catch one glimpse at Jade, who hasn't had time yet to appropriate an expression. Your arms extend and one knee comes up, the other leg flails out from under you. You pre-emptively shut your eyes, brace for impact, direct as many curses at yourself that you can in such a short timeframe, and feel your chin connect with the tile floor before anything else.
"All the sons of all the BITCHES!"
Jade retains her stunned silence, but you hear Gamzee pipe up from the other room.
"All good in there, my best brotherly bro?"
"Just Goddamn peachy! Those worthless wind tunnels you call ears are working it seems!"
You peek open one eye again and—oh hell…
Chicken salad. Everywhere
Goddamn, do you hate chicken salad.
The runway of delicatessen treats runs from the no-longer-airworthy tray at your fingertips to Jade's shoes.
"Karkat?"
You can't help but look up, in a fashion not as adorabloodthirsty as you'd like. "Y-Yes?"
She snickers, because of course she does; "You are such a dork."
Unknowing of what to do or how to respond, you take a knee, and stand. You dust off your slacks only to stain them with chicken salad. For the love of…
"Shut that gaping red speak tube. You had time enough to help me." Why aren't you shouting? This is the most shout-worthy event of the past few days…
"It was a split second, you absolute dweeb!" She looks like she's about to buckle over in laughter.
You just stare at her mouth-agape and dumbfounded at her while she finishes her fit of giggles. Red cheeked and eyes pinned shut by merriment, glasses askew. You feel your shoulders drop; it's a moment of seeing her like this, in her element, which assaults you with the dreaded feels.
She meets your gaze again, finally, with a look you can't quite identify, and you start to feel a bit sick. You look for an out, and drop to your knees, hunch over, and wordlessly begin picking up lumps of cold gray cuisine from the floor.
"Karkat?"
You pretend not to hear. Instead you just feel a second presence on the floor. Risking a look, you can see Jade's joined you in your quest for the floored foodstuffs.
"I'm sorry I laughed at you Karkat."
You aren't looking at her anymore, but you can feel her gaze on the crown of your head. You want to say something, preferably very offensive, but nothing comes to mind.
Karkat, what is with you lately?
Instead, you stand, fists full of gray, lumpy nutrition, walk in a dignified manner toward the sink, and dump the food.
"I wouldn't be." As soon as you finish saying it, you turn your whole body to her, and lean back against the sink with your hands resting on the counter behind you.
She looks shocked with you and now that you mention it, rather pitying. You don't know how this got so melodramatic. You step across the room to her, gently grab her wrist, and pull it toward you from her side. It's loosely holding a chunk of the cursed chicken salad. You look into her eyes before turning her hand over into yours, claiming the squishy food bounty. And then, you can notice the tender, and foreign, look in her eyes, like she's beginning to expect you to kiss her. So you ever so gently bring your left hand to her cheek, and smear her face in chicken salad with your right.
Take that world. Karkat Vantas doesn't take your shit lying down
The look she has following is a mix of livid, and flabbergasted. The delicious deli prize occupying her left cheek and nose erases any hope of it being threatening.
In fact it makes it hilarious.
"Jade, Jade- I…" You struggle to form words in the midst of your laughter. It's rare enough, so it feel alien. "I'm sorry, but—I—I knew that… actually I'm not sorry at all! But I knew that-that your mind was going to arrive in the same course of action!" You fail to feel any regret
"So you plastered my face in this goop first!?"
"Absolutely!" By this point, the laughter is gone, but the memory hangs around. "Besides, you're always telling me to lighten up!"
"Not at my expense! And whenever I tell you to lighten up, you tell me, in no kind words, of all the different ways you'd pay to see me die!"
"Sorry, you've got to pick one or the other."
A smoldering glare is the best she can do as she starts to clean off her face. You feel compassion come back around, and fetch the paper towel roll.
She thanks you for it with a kick in the knee. Talk about ungrateful.
"C'mon Harley, you've got no right to be mad, quit it."
"I'm mad Karkat. No dice."
"Wait, so when Karkat falls into chicken salad wonderland, it's funny, but when Jade's precious little face suffers a bit of good natured salad smacking, it's a war crime?!"
"Yes, you jerk," She stops you as the picks of the last bits and pieces, "and you are a jerk." You aren't fooled; you see the smile on her as she bounces the roll of paper towels off your forehead. You return it during the following moment of understanding between the two of you.
"Are you two done clowning around in here?" Kanaya pokes her head around the doorframe looking un-amused, "Because we're all waiting for you."
Jade answers before you. Kanaya's entrance bade you drop the slight smile. "Yeah, there was just a little accident. Come on, Karkat!" She is once again as cheerful as ever as she practically skips out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with Kanaya's gaze bearing down on you. It cracks into s smile, or a knowing grin. You can never tell with Kanaya…
"It's a winning smile, Karkat. You should use it more often."
"Oh, you want some chicken salad too? There's plenty enough for me to drown you in. Or you can turn right the hell around and glow or whatever somewhere else!"
"Oh, Karkat…" She still wears the smile when she leaves. You can hear conversation in the other room continuing, and you decide that they can wait.
Truth be told, Kanaya's comment had really struck a chord. He had a nice smile? He brushed his jaw as he heard it again in his head. Smile more? Smiling had always just seemed to lie in the realm beyond his identity.
Shake it off, Vantas. Just Kanaya goofing around.
You find your composure, well, as much composure being relative with you, and emerge into the living room. Not much changed, save for the fact that Jade was on the couch, and your re-entrance hadn't caused a stir.
"Looks like we're all packed into the moron squad clown-car."
"Best bro, don't be that way." Gamzee's smile just seemed to enrage you more. "Besides, we're all happy and at our best together."
You just dismiss him with a wave of your hand and sit down on the carpet. Everyone is sitting on or around the couch now and there's little talk for a moment.
Dave, oddly enough, breaks the silence.
"Rose, you said something about going to that new museum?"
"Hmm? Oh yes, well, it's not a museum, David, it's an art gallery, that I have tickets to attend. However, John and I can no longer spare the time. John will be performing on the Piano for the big musical opening downtown. The scheduled pianist canceled."
You thought that idiot John looked extra excited today.
"Ahaa, John's big break! Well, let's all hope you don't get nervous before the show and miss all the wrong notes, eh? I can smell your fear…" Terezi cackles as she leans over the back of the couch at John. The barb is obvious, but apparently effective; he seems very nervous indeed.
"Er- ahh…yeah, haha," he pulls at his collar. "The cake should be done! Karkat, give me a hand?" He leaps up from the couch, and gives you that desperate look that says get me away from Terezi.
You roll your eyes, but stand up. You know that feeling.
"So, the professional pianist thing is starting to pan out, eh? Soon your magic act will be taking off too." You ask while frosting a cake you swore you'd never frost moments ago, wearing the frilly apron you swore you'd never wear.
"Also, why am I frosting your stupid cake?"
"Because you got stupid chicken salad all over my floor, that's why. Now shut up and even out the frosting more."
You lock your death glare of defiance onto his gaze, goop frosting all over one edge of the breaded tall-circle, drop the spreader, flip him off with both hands, and take of the damned silly pink apron. Why does john even like this thing?
With an exasperated sigh he takes over cake duty. "And yeah, hopefully this gig might help me get started on doing piano professionally."
"How come you want to do that so bad? It's not like you guys need the money. Rose could pay for somewhere even better than this with all that money she got from that time we aren't allowed to know about." This is a mysterious subject that gives you both a shudder.
"I know we don't need money, but that's not the point. It's what I love to do, you know? And I want to be recognized; Sure, playing keyboard in the streets is fun, and it gets to people, and there's soul too it. I'll be doing that probably until I die, but at the same time…" he looks like he can't find the words for the feeling, until his jaw sets, "I want to play in a goddamn suit in Carnegie Hall. Once I've done that I'll be finished with the business."
You know what he means. And hell, in your generosity, you gave him a well-deserved supportive shoulder clap.
"It'll work out, idiot."
"Think so Karka—"
The heartfelt broment was interrupted by six loud door knocks in quick succession.
"Who could that be? We're all here, right?" You ask puzzled at John.
John cringes, pulls at his collar, and generally looks as if he knows he's done something very bad.
"Well, you see, we invited someone else at the last minute…"
"Hello?" This call comes from beyond the front door. "Wwould someone let me in? I'm so tired from all this wwalkin."
John seems to shrink in fear from the glower of fury and death you give to him.
"You've baked your last cake, buddy-boy…"