Dave walked out of his room stretching his arms to only to immediately notice one thing missing that he least expected to be missing, Karkat. There was a paper towel with bread crumbs on it, and his blanket was on the pile of the belongings he brought with him. What does someone like him have to do as a day job? He decided to put it in the back of his head until later, then got ready for the rest of his day. As he was showering, it suddenly hit him that Karkat couldn't have cleaned up because the bathroom was through his room, and he would've been woken up.
As Dave glanced over Karkat's pile of supplies, he decided that since Karkat was now living in his apartment, he has the right to know what's being brought into his property, right? As Dave rifled through Karkat's pile of seemingly junk, he started noticing a lot of pictures. They were pictures of people, a fashion diva, an animal lover and some beefcake, a stoner, paraplegic, and a few others, and there was one that he seemed closer to than others, some blind girl. Were these his friends? Why am I looking after him if he had so many friends that he was close to? Did something happen? Is that kid a runaway?
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Karkat's POV
"Uhh, I think you can find those down in the bathroom section, section two, aisle three." What ever gets me away from him faster. "You should be able to find them by that wall."
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"I'm sorry sir, I'll do my best to come to work better prepared in the future. I am very thankful for this leniency."
"You should be Vantas, you need to clean up before you come to work in the future, we have had several customers complaining about you. If you're not fixed up by next week, then I suppose we might have to remove you from the currect workforce."
"Understood entirely, sir."
"Good, now get out of here, take the rest of the day off so you can focus on getting your situation together."
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"There you are, where the hell did you go first thing in the mourning?"
"I was at my job, which I now wonder if you have ever had. It's the middle of the day and you're still in your fucking bedroom."
"I'll have you know this is my job, it's a pretty sweet set-up, to be honest, I can remix old famous tracks and DJ them at nightclubs every week for big money, wait, damn, you have a job? Where do you work?"
"It's none of your business where I work."
"Well if it's none of my business *where* you work, why aren't you working? You stink to much 'cause you didn't bother using my shower in the mourning?"
"No, well, there was a problem there with the management so they sent me home early."
"You got fired?"
"No, I'm not pitiful like you, I'm able to hold onto an actual job for more than a week, they just need me to work slightly harder at being presentable."
"So you do stink too much, and they're going to fire you if you don't shower."
"I never said that."
"But you implied it."
"Shut the fuck up, is there anything you need me to do since I'm home early?"
"You could,,, take a shower because you stink."
"Fine, It'll give me time away from you at least." As Karkat walked over to his stuff to get clothes, he saw that most of his belongings had been shuffled around. "Did you really fucking snoop through my stuff within twenty-four hours of me moving in with you?"
"Hey, you're a refugee under my roof, and from what I can tell, a runaway refugee. I wouldn't be working at wherever the hell you are working if it means showing your face, huh?"
"I'm not a refugee, and where did you get the idea that I'm a runaway?"
"You have some pretty non-essential supples and a lot of pictures of people you seemed pretty close with."
"How the fuck do you get runaway refugee from- Alright, why do you think I ran away from wherever I'm supposed come from."
"Because no friends that close would refuse someone who needed help. If you could afford someone finding you, you'd go to one of your friends when you got kicked out by your parents, not live on the street until some lordly angel swoops down and picks up your ass. They must not have been as close as you looked if you'd reject you."
This hurt. Why did he have to get so invasive already? He's hardly an angel, and hardly understands why I'm on the street. "Get you shit straight." Karkat was starting to cry. "They were the best friends I've ever met, if I had the choice, I'd go to any of them immediately instead of waiting for whatever you are to help me at all! I didn't run away, but I also didn't have to choice to even talk to them before I had to leave!" He started scooping up whatever clothes he could find, which hurt even more than usual, because one of his friends used to pick out everything he wore. She even modified his sweaters so they could both be happy.
"Why are you making such a big deal about this? I doubt you were forced to leave in a hurry onto the streets if you didn't have to run away. If you don't even have any way to contact them, by mail or phone, they're not your friends in my books."
Karkat stopped moving for a moment as he processed what was being said, then he dashed through the bedroom to the bathroom screeching, "They don't exist in this universe anymore!" at the top of his lungs before locking and bracing himself onto the interior of the bathroom door.
That fucker has lungs.... This universe anymore? Either he's crazy, or he's being dramatic about them not being his friends.
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He's wrong. He's complely wrong. They were his friends.... Are his friends. Karkat cried into the shower stream while contemplating whether he should become a runaway, a runaway from the prick that is supposedly helping him, that acts like he is the reason he is still alive, a runaway from the person who refuses to accept the circumstances.
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Authour's Note: Sorry about the wait, between me sort of not planning on this being a long thing, me forgetting about it, and running out of ideas in the middle of this chapter, I ended up finishing this slightly more abruptly than I otherwise would have liked. Hopefully as school starts I'll have more downtime to get inspired. Thank you for the support, you are all lovely, and I never would have expected any demand for something that started out as a midnight entry into a journal.
