Chapter Text
Dave painfully pinched at his sides, messing with the loose fabric over his torso. He could feel each of the bruises that he left on Dave’s skin. The pale skin that Dave had hated. Dave hated everything about himself.
He stood in front of his mirror, staring at his unkempt greasy blonde hair and the shades that covered his disgusting demon eyes. He could see every scar on his face. He ran his hand over his scar that graced his lip, then the one that had split his left nostril apart. It was no surprise on why he had breathed weirdly with the dent in his nose. Some people found it disgusting but it had taken its time and healed about a year ago. The skin probably wouldn’t grow back together though. At least that’s what he said.
Dave always listened to him. He had too. Worse things would happen if he didn’t. So he continued to listen and just let whatever happened, happen. He didn't know what would happen if he didn’t listen. It was one time. Last night.
He didn’t listen to him that night. That night that he regretted. that he hated with a burning passion that seemed to fizzle out at even the small mention of what he had done. The fresh memories of the acts he had done. It wasn’t the first time that he had done that with him but it seemed to worsen. The memory of the pain he felt. The memory of him . It made him sick.
Dave moved to the bathroom quickly, hunching over the toilet as the contents of his stomach unfurled into it. He sat there, breathing heavily. It wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the first time this year. It wasn’t the first time this month. It wasn’t the first time this week. It wasn’t the first time today . It had been so often that he experienced this feeling that his throat barely burned. His fingers were scarred from the acid that ran down them at times.
He quickly flushed down the contents and washed his hands as well as his face to get rid of the vile substance before heading back to his room. He quickly changed, putting on a pair of jeans that hugged his legs comfortably as well as a sweatshirt that was slightly big on him. He took a deep breath and looked at his pinky, the red string that tied around it. He almost felt as if it didn’t matter if the string was there or not. He knew that it was supposed to be there, supposed to lead him to his destiny but all he heard was bullshit after bullshit.
The whole world believed in soulmates, everyone did. With the strings tied around their pinkies how could they not? Everyone had to find someone because no matter what if you have a string on your finger, there is someone meant to be found on the other side of that string one day. Then that’s what people believed. They believed that everyone is meant to find someone.
Everyone except for Dave. He knew there was no one who was truly meant for himself. It was obvious. He was a tall lanky boy that was oh so skinny because of how he was denied food for so long. He hated his household but he couldn’t leave, he wasn’t old enough to. He was still in high school, still stupid and naive and impressionable. He hated being around his family but hated being alone. He hated being on his own because it made him feel not wanted. Though, he knew he wasn’t wanted by his family. He knew that Bro never truly loved him. All bro did was use him for his own personal gain. Fight him and beat him until Dave couldn’t walk. Do that to him while Dave begged him to stop, crying as he eventually just gave up and accepted it.
Dirk never had that done to him. He never had to endure Bro’s antics. He didn’t have to deal with Bro inside of him. Dirk never had to deal with getting beaten. He was the subject of Bro’s fights at one point until he got strong enough and fought him off. Now… Dave was subjected to them, so much worse than when Bro always fought them both. Dave wasn’t strong like Dirk. He wasn’t able to fight like Dirk. He wasn’t able to get away like Dirk.
The weather had become colder each day since the start of November. It had even snowed a bit the other day. Dave wasn’t used to the cold but it gave him an excuse to cover up all the gross scars and cuts and bruises that dotted his gross pale skin. Though this also meant that Bro was worse about where he put the marks. Dave didn’t care as long as he could cover them. He would be gone soon enough, able to leave this dreary existence and enter a new life.
He couldn’t wait for that moment.
Dave took another deep breath before carefully heading out of his door. He knew Bro was asleep but he still worried. He passed through the hall of his apartment until he got to the living room where the door was.
“Hey, D.” Dave froze for a moment before relaxing as he realized it was just Dirk.
Dirk Strider was two years older than Dave, being nineteen at the moment. He was tall and slender with spiked hair that stuck out. He had an affinity for orange and wore pointed shades much like Bro’s pair. Dave found it odd that Dirk would want to be anything like Bro but he didn’t really care. He didn’t ask. Dirk almost always carried his katana around with him when in the house. He would never put it down. Dave didn’t blame him. The house was a minefield at all times, neither of them able to escape the torment that had plagued them due to the disgusting sight of their drunken family member beating them senseless. The sight had been ingrained in their minds of the other on the ground, bleeding from every spot on their body. Dave could still see the scar that covered Dirk’s neck, the slit in his throat that was a lesson they had to learn.
Under his shades, Dave’s eyes had dulled over the years, the crimson color turning to a look of death. All he could see was a demon, and bright colors but they had gone. The small bits of blood flowing through his body left him cold. He wasn’t surprised due to the amount of times that he had bled out profusely with no input. The skin on his body was the only thing that kept him warm other than the clothes he wore.
“Hey, Dirk.” Dave’s voice rang out. The sound was dull, absent of life. Somber.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Why?”
“I just…” Dave paused and thought for a moment, “have a feeling that I should.”
“Just be back in at least two hours, probably sooner.” Dirk warned him.
“I know.” Dave turned back to face the door, his hand moving to grab the knob before he was stopped by Dirk’s hand being placed on his shoulder.
“And, lil’ bro?” He said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“Last night… wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s always my fault.” Dave took the handle of the door, leaving the apartment before another word could be said.
He had always blamed the events on himself, telling himself that it was his fault. He wasn’t strong enough to fight off Bro’s attacks, his violations. Dave waited and let Bro do it despite his internal pleas for the pain to stop. He was emotionless, unable to tell others of the pain. Unable to stop his hands from roaming where they shouldn’t. Dirk didn’t know that pain. He would never truly know what happened to Dave. He probably wouldn’t care what happened. He never helped so why did Dave think that he cared at all. Dave knew he didn’t. Dave knew that no one cared for him. He knew that and yet he still clung onto people with the sliver of hope that they may not leave him. The chance that they may figure out what was happening to him and actually help.
He took a deep breath once more before leaving down the stairs to the streets of Texas.
He looked around, seeing all sorts of people. He knew that they were all the same on the inside though. Heartless creatures. All humans were. Dave always had hoped that not everyone was the same. That they may actually be good people on the inside. He wanted to believe that but almost everyone he met was terrible except for one friend.
John Egbert. He was the only person that had ever been genuinely sweet to Dave. The boy’s bubbly personality and buck teeth and the fact that he had actually been there for Dave for two years had made him the only trustworthy person outside of his family. Not even Rose knew the full extent of Dave’s problems. John only knew about the physical fights he had with his brother. John didn’t know about that. Dave would never tell him about it. He couldn’t bear to see John leave him too. It was heartbreaking.
Dave’s feet lightly padded against the ground as he took a breath of the crisp, cold air.
Breathing. Dave felt that was all he could do for now. All he could think to do. He knew he was broken. He knew the moment he realized that he wasn’t trying to live to breathe. He was breathing to live. That’s all it was for. Survival. He thought that maybe if he kept breathing one day he would make it to the point where he was living to breathe. Living for something. Anything. He didn’t want to leave this earth yet in hopes to find that thing to tide him over to stay here until it’s his time. Though maybe it was his time. Maybe the moment he downed a bunch of pills that would be his time. Or maybe when he suffocated to death, leaving nothing behind on this plain. He didn’t want to be tortured. He didn’t want to be beaten and battered until bruises and cuts on pale skin were all that were left. That wasn’t what he wanted. That wasn’t what was right.
Dave felt the tug of his string, pulling him away and he turned with another tug. He wondered what was happening as he was pulled quickly down the path, the streets bustling with people as he unwillingly pushed past them.
Until the pulling stopped and he took a breath, looking at his right hand where his string was tied. He looked down through it until his shade covered eyes met with a pair of dull brown ones.
The two stared at each other for a moment before they had realized what was happening.
Dave looked around, seeing and hearing the claps of people around them. He didn’t know what was truly happening. All he knew is that this person in front of him were now tied together.
Dave didn’t know what to think.
Karkat woke up groggily and stared at his ceiling for a moment. He didn’t feel like getting up. It was only Saturday so truly he didn’t have too.
His thoughts wandered around, thinking about anything other than getting up. He hated mornings. They always made him feel like shit, which could you blame him? His eyes had dark circles under them from the almost all nighter he pulled once again, like he did almost every night. He felt dead sometimes, other times he wished he was dead. Though, that wish never ceased. He just kept on wishing that maybe one morning he wouldn’t open his eyes, he wouldn’t wake up. That would be bliss to him. He wanted to know what life was like after it ended. He wanted to know if heaven or hell existed, though he didn’t believe in that. If he did, he would go to hell. Just like everyone told him that he deserved.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
“Karkat! Get up! It’s time for breakfast!” His brother yelled from down the stairs. Karkat groaned before another yell came from his mother.
He sat up and rubbed his charcoal black colored eyes, yawning softly before another yell came from his mother.
“I’m coming!” He yelled, “geez.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched a bit before grabbing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants and putting them on before going downstairs. He sighed and sat down at the table. Even on Saturdays they ate breakfast together. They did every morning without fail. Karkat hated it but he had to join along with them. He endured the excruciatingly painful mornings of social interaction and dumb questions at the table.
He sat in his usual seat, yawning once more, looking at his brother who sat across from him.
“You’re late again.” Kankri scolded.
“Whatever.”
“Kankri, don’t patronize him.” Kanaya said as she entered the room. Kanaya was Karkat’s sister, his older one at that. She had a need for short black hair and black painted nails with a gothic fashionista style on her makeup. She wore a long red skirt as well as a long sleeved black shirt. She was pretty, and polite. Much unlike Karkat.
The oldest sibling of the three, Kankri, was a bit taller than Karkat, but not as tall as Kanaya. He had ginger hair, much like Karkat’s that was kept neat. He wore his signature red colored turtleneck and black pants. He had his arms crossed and his legs crossed as well.
“He was late, what should I say? Karkat, you also have put no effort into how you dress. Would it kill you to not wear sweatpants and t-shirts for once?”
“I wear sweatshirts and jeans sometimes.” Karkat joked.
“It doesn’t matter what he wears.” Kanaya chimed in.
“Yes it does, we wouldn’t want to besmirch the family name.”
Karkat looked down at the table, his anger starting to fester. He hated when Kankri used big words because he knew that Karkat was dyslexic and would only become confused by them.
“Would you three stop?” Their mother said as she walked in, sighing slightly. She was a tall woman, which is where Kanaya had gotten her height, who looked much like Kanaya, just a bit older and more mature. She was sweet but did have a bit of a temper under that candy deliciousness. She was slightly strict and didn’t like to put up with the three’s insolent arguing that they seemed to always get into.
“Yes ma’am.” All three said before Karkat sighed. He stared at the food on his plate and around the table, poking at it mostly.
He slowly ate the meal provided. He was still trying to recover, trying to force himself to be better. When Kanaya had learned of his problem she did everything in her power to try and help out to get him out of that routine, that rut he seemed to be stuck in. She hated that he did that, starving himself, throwing up everything he could.
Kanaya looked at him as she ate, smiling softly as she saw he was eating at all.
His mother was shocked when she found out, getting him a therapist to help with the addiction. He had gained so much weight over the past eight months as he did his best to resist the feelings to throw up or avoid it all. He was only fifteen, about to turn sixteen over the summer, and he had so many problems that he just couldn’t contain. He honestly hated the fact that his family found out but he could still fake it at school. He wanted to get better. It was difficult but he was trying. That’s all that mattered though. The fact that he was trying and currently doing well on recovering from his disorder. His family praised him, as well as his therapist. That’s why they started doing family breakfast, as a way to make sure that he was getting at least one meal. The other three always tried to help, always trying to make sure that he was okay. Karkat still monitored his weight, still keeping tabs on the numbers and what he ate but he didn’t measure his body parts constantly, wanting all of them to just be smaller like he used to. He cringed at the weight but simply kept his feelings in to please his family.
Karkat sighed as he finished the meal a few minutes after everyone else, looking up at them.
“How is school for everyone?” Their mother suddenly asked.
“Home economics is most definitely going to tank my GPA.” Kankri groaned.
“It is only one class, Kankri. How bad is Mr. Egbert that you cannot pass?” Kanaya chuckled a bit.
“Everyone gets his class but I just don’t see the practical purpose of knowing how to bake a three tiered rainbow cake with fondant on top. I just don’t understand it.” He sighed.
“On another note, I’m doing quite well. A friend has been helping me in my algebra class and I’m starting to understand.” Kanaya said with a small smile.
Karkat only sighed, thinking about how smart his siblings were when he stood there with mostly C’s in all his classes. He never understood a thing he read in English, numbers and letters don’t mix in math, science should be easy to understand but chemical names and formulas didn’t help, then he was just shit at art. He was only a sophomore, Kankri being a senior with Kanaya a junior.
“Karkat, what about you?” His mother said softly.
“Fine.” Was all he responded with as he just stared at the plate, silently pushing bits of food around. Even without seeing it he could tell that his mother, sister and brother were all looking at each other, trying to decipher what to say or talk about. He always made things awkward.
Karkat soon stood and ran upstairs back to his room. He closed the door and locked it, not wanting for his family to come up and start scolding him.
He always hated living in a house where everyone was expected to be close. His mother, sister and brother were all so close to each other then there was him. The outcast lonely member of the family. The one with problems. The mistake. The shortest, youngest with the worst grades and mental issues. He wondered why they didn’t just abandon him already. He didn’t know why he had so many mental problems so early in life. He was only a teen. He couldn’t even drive yet. He didn’t know how to deal with people. He was practically still a kid. Everyone told him he acted immature, to fix his anger. That he was a mistake. Who could love a mentally unstable fifteen year old that had to force food down his own throat at every meal. A gay guy who yelled and argued with anything in sight. People told him that he could argue with a fence post over what color it was painted. He hated that. He hated people.
Karkat stood and put on an oversized sweatshirt, nothing really special. It was like him, not very important to the plot of any story in existence. He decided that maybe a walk to keep his mind off of how much he hated himself. He was clean for a while. He didn’t need anymore scars on his arms, especially with his family being so overprotective of him.
His sister was two years older than him, his brother being three. Kankri had recently turned eighteen, and Kanaya following a few months later, turning seventeen. Karkat’s birthday always came first on June 12, then his brother followed in July then Kanaya’s birthday came in September. They always got the bigger, better celebrations. Most people forgot his birthday, which he didn’t mind. It kept him out of sight. He did cry the night of his fifteenth birthday, his family was too busy with work and jobs so he just sat in his room with a single cupcake. He lit one small candle and made a wish. A wish that he may be able to get better emotionally. He blew out the candle and he remembered throwing out the cupcake. He didn’t want to eat it. Then he just spent the rest of the night in bed watching romcoms to try and make himself feel better. Telling himself it would be okay. He fell asleep like that.
When he woke there was a small gift laying on his desk, a sealed envelope next to it. He opened it only to find a small necklace, the note being from Kanaya. It was an apology to him, saying that she wanted to get it to him on his birthday but couldn’t find the time.
No one was in the house that morning, he was all alone.
Karkat took a deep breath, shaking the memory out of his head before leaving his room and heading out downstairs.
“Where are you headed?” His mother asked as Karkat came through, grabbing his brown boots to put on.
“Just going on a walk for a bit.” He said softly before he got them on and stood. His mother nodded a bit before Karkat left the house.
He looked out at the frost covered ground, seeing his breath in the cold of the November weather. It was the 17th currently. Karkat had always enjoyed the winter. The cold made him feel like he could just succumb to the icy wind. That’s what he wanted in all honesty.
He felt the crisp air against his pale skin, making his face turn slightly red from the feeling as he walked down the path, heading into town. Something in his mind told him where to go, guiding him as he simply kept thinking. He didn’t know the feeling that was making him so anxious. He didn’t know why he felt so odd. He just felt that maybe something was meant to happen
And something did, as the string pulled him back, tugging him along the path. He didn’t know what was happening until it was done and the string tied around his left hand’s pinkie was tied around a stranger’s right.