Of Dragons and Poets

Son

Cinderella's gone to New York City,
wants to shave her head and disappear.
18 years of never feeling pretty,
Says she's finally thinking clear.

He walks with his hands in his pockets, glancing at you every so often. You understand the he worries for you, he's your elder brother, but it can get a little annoying, being doted over. Fortunately, you love him enough to tolerate it. You tolerate a lot from Kankri, especially when it comes to him taking you to church with him, but you know he only does it because he doesn't trust your father with you (not that anyone else does, but there isn't much you can do).

Your father is less than satisfactory in the sense that, since your mother passed, your sisters (who changed their last names to Leijon, your mother's maiden name) have gone to live with some distant cousins, and you spend more time at the Makara's than is probably healthy for you because he's never not drinking. It's why he's no longer a pastor, it's why you gave up on believing in a higher power, why you and Kankri share a bed even though he's got his own room; your father is not suited to raise a pair of boys and you're both scared of what he'll do if you leave.

"Karkat!" Kankri shouts for you, and it's no wonder why. While you were busy thinking, you missed your turn, and he stopped and let you go a few yards before jolting you out of it. He does that sometimes, because you think a lot and he encourages that. You run back to him, sliding your headphones down to your neck, and stop your music to apologize hurriedly. "Sorry, Kankri, I wasn't -"

"It's alright, Karkat, let's just get home."

You nod and link your arm with his, and he leads you down the street. Your backpack weighs heavily on your shoulders, and your fingers grip his sleeve instinctively - you think you see him smile. You're very close, it isn't unheard of for him to lead you places. You like it, really. It's comforting, you feel like a little kid again.

You come upon the small brick house you live in and slip in quietly - there's no telling if your father's home, and you don't want to be too loud if he's hung over. Kankri steers you into the kitchen, where you know he's now going to make something to eat, as it appears your father is out and it's almost six anyways. Normally, he'll pick the pair of you up, but he left you to make the hour and a half long trek today.

Your dark eyes land on Kankri as he leans against the counter, mocha skin paled by the dim fluorescent light. You gently nudge him away from the stove and he moves to the left for you so you can turn the stove on, set a pot on the burner, and start filling if with water. He starts to tell you about his day, the struggles, his encounters with people, and you end up hugging him and humming as he sighs into your shoulder.

It's been a long day. It's about to get worse.