Insanity (Homestuck AU)

Chapter 1

Saturday morning. Another day. I rubbed at my tired eyes and sat up in bed, already feeling the strings of hunger pull at me. A few rays of light ran across the room from the half open blinds to my left. I slowly slid out of my white and red blanket and let my feet touch the carpeted floor. I yawned and stretched my arms out behind me. Today was job searching day.

I got dressed in my usual attire, a red T shirt, a leather jacket, and jeans with the cuffs rolled up.

I left the comfort of my room and went out to the kitchen. As I walked passed the living room I saw my father in his old recliner. He appeared to be stitching some sort of puppet together. I raised an eyebrow to myself before shaking my head and continuing on towards the kitchen. My father was always up to something strange. It was rather interesting actually. He's not like most people. Never has been.

I ate my cereal and left the dishes in the sink. I know that I should wash them, the whole kitchen is clean and Bro will be annoyed at me if he sees the dirty bowl.

Yes, another thing that is strange about my father. He often prefers me to call him Bro. Even tho he is my father. It is either Bro, or Sir. I choose to stick to Sir when it comes to being around other people, I hate it enough that people already ask a lot of questions about us. Seeing how we're strange and very different from most people, everyone's always questioning Bro and I about something. Why we always wear sunglasses. Why my father doesn't work your average job. Why we chose to live in the peachy "hello neighbor" neighborhood when we are supposedly the "greaser" type.

Yeah, I hang with greasers. All of my friends are. Except for one. But I guess all the preps and stuck up little house moms find it strange that we chose to live here. The grown ups arnt to weird about it. But the kids my age are. Those fucking jocks are constantly bugging at me, asking me why I'm living in their territory. As if I give a damn about territory.

I don't even consider myself a greaser, really. I'm just a guy who just so happens to have most of my friends bein greasers. And yeah, I wear the same damn leather jacket that my friends all have. But I see the jackets more of like a friendship thing. Not so much a gang thing.

I leave the kitchen and go to retrieve my shoes.

My hands were busy tying my black Chuck Taylor's as my father stood above me with his usual stoic expression, newspaper in hand like always.

I had just turned 15 a few days ago. I was happy, I would finally be able to get a job and buy things that I wanted. It was another step closer to adulthood. My father has been struggling with money lately, apparently he had been "let go from employment". My father never did tell me what it was that he did to make a living. Every time I asked he told me it was unimportant, that I didn't need to worry about it. So I didn't. I decided that along with my new found job and money, I would help pay for the necessities that we needed. I know my father needs help, even if he says he doesn't want or need it.

"be home before dark." my father said sternly. I looked up to my father, not surprised to see the pointy sunglasses of his perched on his face. "Yes, sir."

I walked out the front door and down the three steps of my wrap around porch. We had a nice suburban home. Most of the houses were bigger and more put together than ours, of course, but my father told me not to let that intimidate me. And I didn't. It was quiet usually, up until 12:00. That's when all the neighborhood kids came out to play. It was now almost 1 o clock, so when I began to head towards town I wasn't the least bit surprised to see my friend John outside his house with his father. He was the one and only friend I had that wasn't a greaser. He wasn't a jock or a square either. He was just plain old John Egbert. Their house was one of the largest, three stories high. A white fence on the left. A park in garage to the right.