The Pages Between Us (Karkat Vantas x Reader)

Chapter Three

You groaned as you let yourself fall on the bed. This week was tiring, and it was just the first week of senior year. Rolling around, you fished out your phone from inside your bag. Your (favorite food) keychain got stuck on something and, as you pulled everything out, found the notebook that was given to you by Karkat Vantas.

"Oh, shit, I totally forgot," you pick up the notebook, somewhat creased from being neglected for four days. Opening it to the first page, you found a phone number scrawled down in neat and cute penmanship, which for some reason came to you as a surprise. Neat and cute was pretty much his opposite.

You picked up your phone and registered his phone number in the phone contacts, making sure to add an angry face after his name, which you purposefully spelled out as SOUR-KAT. Not a wordplay you were proud of, but you did think it was accurate.

Should you call him?

Maybe you should text him first.

But what if he doesn't respond to random texts?

You groaned out in frustration of your inability to handle socializing with the opposite race and sex. Wait, Carc is a guy, right? He could tell you what to do. (You could totally ask Dave since he's a guy, but you'll just end up punching him out of annoyance or something.) Carc usually gives great advice, albeit in his own strange and verbose way.

YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK YOU SHOULD DO, said Carci once, when you asked for his help on your geometry homework, DOUSE THAT FUCKING SCHOOL IN GASOLINE AND SET IT ON FUCKING FIRE. IF SCHOOLS BURN DOWN COMPLETELY, ALL THE STUDENTS WHO ATTEND THERE AUTOMATICALLY GRADUATE. THAT'S AN EPIC FUCKING WIN.

BY THE WAY, THE RIGHT ANSWER FOR NUMBER TWO IS FOURTEEN. WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT SOLUTION?

Hmm, yeah. Very verbose.

After several minutes of contemplation, you decide to tap on the phone call icon to the right of Carci's chum handle. You surprise him with these every now and then, at an unpredictable interval, in an attempt to trick him into revealing himself to you.

carcinoGeneticist (CG) is online.
carcinoGeneticist (CG) missed your call.
CG: HA! BITCH, YOU *THOUGHT*.
YH: Hehe hey Carc.
YH: It was worth a try.
CG: STOP FUCKING SCAMMING ME INTO GIVING YOU MY IDENTITY, SMARTASS.

You frowned and rolled over so you were lying on your stomach and leaning on your elbows. Realizing that this position was uncomfortable on your elbows, you took a pillow and rested on it.

YH: This is unfair! You know who I am!
YH: Why can't I know you?
CG: BECAUSE.
CG: THERE'S NO REASON. JUST BECAUSE.
YH: Come ooon, Caaaarc.
YH: Are you some creepo who stalks people online and befriends unsuspecting people?
YH: Did you bribe Achlys into convincing me that you're a normal high school dude?

You pause, mind racing with possibilities. The image of a pimply middle-aged man locking himself in a dark, computer-lit room popped up in your head. You shudder at the thought.

CG: WHAT? NO.
CG: ACHLYS IS YOUR MOIRAIL, ISN'T SHE?
CG: MOIRAILSHIP IS BASICALLY THE HIGHEST HONOR IN THE HIERARCHY OF TROLL RELATIONSHIPS. IT'S AKIN TO THE FAMILY THING YOU HUMANS HAVE.
CG: ACHLYS WOULD EAT HOOFBEAST SHIT SLUDGED TOGETHER WITH THE COLLECTIVE COITUS SUBSTANCES OF BOTH HUMAN AND TROLL SPECIES, BEFORE SHE COULD EVEN DARE TO LIE TO YOU.

Your eyebrows raised up at the imaginative example given to you by Carc. Original as always. It makes you question his sanity every now and then.

YH: Jeez, okay, I'll believe you. Tone it down a little.
CG: OH MY GOG. FUCKING FINALLY.
YH: IF you show me your silhouette.
YH: Oh, and Achlys needs to be in the picture.
CG: ARE YOU *FUCKING* SERIOUS.
YH: Yeah, I'm fucking serious.
CG: UGH.
CG: FINE.
CG: I'LL SEND ONE SOON.

You blink, surprised. You didn't expect him to agree so quickly.

CG: ANYWAYS, WHAT'S UP?
YH: Well, I wanted to ask for advice, actually.
CG: YOU'VE COME TO THE RIGHT GUY.
CG: SO WHAT DO YOU NEED ADVICE ABOUT?
YH: There's this guy.
CG: DO YOU LIKE HIM?
CG: (YH), YOU GOTTA BE MORE SPECIFIC THAN THAT.
YH: I'm not even finished yet, dumbass.

You rolled your eyes at him.

YH: So this guy is in my class, and apparently he's always been since we were freshmen.
YH: And we ended up getting paired in this project.
YH: He gave me his number so we could talk, but...
CG: YEAH??
YH: I know we need to do the project and stuff, but I'm shy about calling him. We don't even know each other that much.
YH: And it's probably gonna get real awkward.
CG: I THINK YOU SHOULD CALL HIM.
YH: Really?
YH: On what grounds?

Several minutes of silence stretched on after that.

YH: Uh... Carc?
CG: WELL.
CG: DUH.
CG: ON THE GROUNDS THAT YOU OBVIOUSLY NEED TO DO THIS PROJECT YOU HAVE WITH HIM.
CG: *DUH*.
YH: Don't "duh" me! I knew that.
YH: Guess I gotta call him now.
YH: I'll be back soon, if I don't die from embarrassment.
CG: I GOTTA GO TOO.
CG: I GOT HOMEWORK AND STUFF.
CG: I'M EXPECTING A PHONE CALL TOO.
YH: Oh.
YH: Hope your call doesn't go weird like mine probably will.
CG: I HOPE SO TOO.

"(Naaame)!" You hear Dave call out from downstairs. "DIIIRK BROUUUGHT AAAPPLE JUUUICE! DOOO YOUUU WAAANT SOOOME?" You roll your eyes and call out in reply.

"Stooop taaalking liiike thiiiis, dork!" You shout, sliding off your bed. You leave your phone on your study table and make sure you lock your bedroom door behind you (your cousins have a habit of borrowing your stuff when you're occupied). "Dirk, did you seriously not buy anything other than apple juice?"

Dirk looks at you with an are-you-fucking-serious look before sharing a disapproving gaze with Dave. "No. Pfft, other than apple juice..."

In the middle of a heated debate on whether apple juice is truly the nectar of the gods, you missed several pesters from your favorite person to talk to: the pester that will be a start to knowing Carci's identity.

carcinoGeneticist (CG) sent an image.

CG: TALK TO YOU LATER, (YH).

carcinoGeneticist (CG) is offline.