Closure (Karkat X Reader)

Chapter 1

     I slowly open my e/c eyes to see the sun's rays pouring into my room like liquid light into a crystal glass. Despite the natural beauty, I still didn't set my alarm. Crap. I quickly jump out of my twin bed and into some oversized jeans with an old sweatshirt. Comfortable enough.

     With a makeup lacking face, I sling on my lightweight backpack and run out the door. I check my watch: 9:38. Way too late for a bus. I guess I have to walk, but at least the school's only a few minutes away. They'll cut me some slack. People tend to give you Pity Perks when you have dead parents.

     I put my h/c hair into a loose ponytail and plug in my headphones, turning on some song I've heard all too many times before, but one that never can get old. I walk for about ten minutes until I arrive, and shyly make my way to the front office. An overweight cat-lady with beaded spectacles raises her head up to meet my eyes from behind the desk.

"I am assuming you are Ms. l/n?" I nod.

"I- uh- yes. Sorry, I, uh, forgot to set an alarm..." her hard exterior seems to soften at the mention of my name.

"It's quite alright, Ms. l/n. It's your first day, and you've been through quite a lot."

"Yeah, thanks." I say in a clipped tone. I know she was just trying to help, but talking about my problems to a random divorcee is kind of invasive. I would much prefer to brood over my issues with myself.

"You can just go to class. I'll let your teacher know it's alright. Here's your schedule, sweetie."

"Thanks again, miss..." I look at her nametag. "Jones."

"You're welcome, y/ n. Have a nice day, sweetie." I take the schedule and shiver. There's something about the ever-present kindness from pitiful adults that just sets you off of your comfort zone after a few months. Especially when they keep calling you 'sweetie'.

     I walk out into the hall and make my way to my first class in room #413. A school must be pretty big to have four hundred and thirteen rooms. After a few minutes, I find the classroom, which is English with Ms. Evans. I open the door to see a bunch of kids half asleep, their faces practically crashing into their open books.

"Who can tell me what Harper Lee is trying to convey when- oh, hello, miss l/n. We were expecting you!" She is fairly pretty, with black hipsteresque glasses and dark brown bangs. Her rather short form waltzes over to me and thrusts a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird into my hands.

"You can sit over in the back there with Mr. Vantas, our other new student," I nod, and she smiles. "Would you like to introduce yourself before you take a seat?" My eyes widen slightly. Hadn't the boss told her that I don't want to talk, or is that just not common sense when you hear about a girl who had her father and mother's life drained away before her eyes only a few months before? I guess not. I see the boy in the back snicker, seeing my reaction. If only he knew.

"I... uh... okay, I, uh, guess..." the class giggles at my awkwardness. I face them. "My name is y/ n. I just moved here from [insert where you live], and I... uh... like to draw?" I phrase the last fact as a question.

"So do you like to draw or not?" Some clown shouts with an eagerness for attention.

"Who said that?!" The teacher calls out. The class bursts into a roaring laughter. The guy in the back gives everyone an irritated look, as if he was the only one who could laugh at my awkwardness. Eventually, Ms.Evans manages to calm everyone down, and turns to me.

"Is there anything else you'd like to share, miss y/ n?"

"Umm... no, not really. I'm an emancipated minor, so I guess that's kinda cool, I guess."

"How'd you get that?"

"Do you throw parties?"

"Wanna go out?"

All of the guys' ears perk up at the mention of my independence. I can see how people interpret that as a life of pure freedom, and to them it would mean sex with no consequences, which I would rather not get into. I don't really do relationships anymore. My emotions are too high-maintenance for most people. And plus, relationships for sex aren't really relationships at all.
​​​​​​ I trudge to the back and plop down to 'Mr. Vantas'.

"Y/n" I say, introducing myself.

"Karkat".

"Nice to meet you, Karkat."

"Uhuh." I frown. I could use at least a little bit of friendliness. I look over to see his eyes tracing over the surface of my right arm.
Uh-oh. I rolled it up so I could scratch a bite.

     I was the only survivor of the crash, and besides at the cost of no family, there was a tax of a giant apparent scar tearing through the entire length of my arm. A big red ugly scar. 'Hellspawn', I named it. It lessened my mediocre looks and just had to serve as a painful reminder of the crash every time I look at it. It was even big enough to be given a name. I quickly put my sleeve down to get him to stop staring.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"S'okay," I mumble back. We don't say anything else, so I just rest my head onto my hand and listen to the lecture about a book I'd read many times before.