Chapter Text
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you’re hanging out with your friends at a local fair.
Yeah, you’re like twenty-seven years old and at a fair. Who cares? It’s not like you’re here by yourself, that’d be fucking weird.
You walk with your three friends, Sollux, Terezi, and Kanaya, and basically bullshit around at the rigged games and eat junk food. You constantly have to redirect Terezi because this place is unfamiliar for her and there’s a bunch of snot nosed kids running around with reckless abandon.
“Karkles, just let them run me down! Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I also have Osteogenesis imperfecta,” Terezi gripes and points to her eyes as she mentions her disability.
“It’s not that, and we both know that. You just want one of these bastard kids to run into you so you can scare the shit out of them,” You remind her, unable to forget the last time you were at one of these events with her.
“Maybe these parents should just watch their fucking kids so we don’t have to babysit the blind chick,” Sollux comments, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t ask to be babysat,” Terezi sticks her tongue out at him, or in the vague direction of him, “you’re being so sour, Mr. Appleberry Blast.”
You look back at Kanaya, who is actually not even with your group anymore. What the hell?
“Hey dipshits, we lost Kanaya,” You report to them, stopping the group.
“Shit, when did we last see KN?”
“I’ve never seen Kanaya!”
“Not the fucking time, Terezi,” you roll your eyes and scan the crowd, “I think we last saw her at the fortune telling hut?”
“Let’s go then,” Sollux decides for the group and strolls away.
You and Terezi follow suit, but you see something out of the corner of your eye… You ignore the thing you saw, gotta find Kanaya. She’s all of your rides home, but also because she’s your friend and it’d be shitty of you not to find her.
–––
Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re alone at a local fair.
Well, you’re not completely alone because your sister, Rose, is working her own booth here. It’s actually more like a hut, but that’s not important. What is important is that you’ve spotted something you like, or rather someone you like.
Yeah, you’re only twenty-three – twenty-four this December – and this guy looks like he’s about to hit thirty but he’s cute… so why not?
It’s hot out tonight, pushing 70 degrees fahrenheit, but you still choose to wear a jacket and some lightweight cloth gloves. You cut the thumbs off of these gloves so you can use your phone since you don’t trust the gloves that are advertised as touch screen compatible.
You lean against your cane, even though the ground is too soft and you can feel it sinking into the earth. Leaning over on your good leg, you tug the end of your cane out of the dirt and begin walking in the direction of the eye candy you found.
You stay a couple yards away, of course. You don’t want to be sussed out immediately. Anyways, you loosely follow this guy and his small group of friends.
Damn, he’s kind of man handlin’ that girl– You spot her white and red walking cane –nevermind, she’s jus’ blind. A fellow member of the disabled club. You think and laugh under your breath.
You notice that one of the group members, a very tall and elegant woman, pauses in front of your sister's witch hut and calls her friends back over. The guy you’re tailing is very animated and loud, but you can’t make out what he’s saying – only that whatever he’s saying, he’s saying it like he’s some Karen trying to communicate with a deaf person. Very loud and very exaggerated.
You like it.
The other guy, almost as tall as the woman but real lanky, makes a few comments about whatever the woman said to them and seems dismissive about the whole shebang. The blind chick’s laughter is piercing and so loud you can clearly hear it, it’s as if you’re right next to her.
The elegant woman seems disappointed, but nods her head and rejoins the group as they walk away from your sister’s hut. Just before the group is out of sight the blind girl looks in your direction and grins at you, waving her fingers. Or at least you think that was directed at you? No, wait, she literally can’t see you… or could she? Maybe you should stop assuming that all blind people are completely unable to see. You have sight problems too. Not blind though, just light sensitive – among other things.
You snap yourself out of your thoughts and follow in the direction the small party went. At some point the same tall woman you saw with the group walks right past you, without her friends. Ha, she’s probably going back to Rose’s booth.
You follow the group, staying in the shadows. Okay, well, the whole shindig is saturated in bright neon lights and lanterns – so you just stay out of their way. You know what you’re doing is weird, but this guy and his friends are pretty interesting… you just like watching people.
You lost a few good friends after your accident, so you kind of stay away from directly socializing with others. Yeah, maybe you’re still a little bitter about being ditched simply because your leg got fucked but you don’t want to take anymore chances at friendship after that shit.
You notice that the three friends have stopped, and you being lost in thought has accidentally gotten you closer to them than you wanted. You backtrack and walk behind a nearby food truck, coming out the other side and spotting a light pole. You hobble over to the pole and casually sag against it, taking your body’s weight off of your damaged leg.
Fuck, your leg is killing you. You shrug off your knapsack and rifle through it, holding your cane between your arm and side. Plucking out your wallet, you throw the bag back over your shoulder and ready your cane. You limp to the front of the food truck and order a water, giving the man running the truck five dollars. You put your wallet back into your bag and retrieve your Norco from your jacket's inner pocket, downing two of the pills when the man hands you a bottle of water.
After popping the two pills, the group walks past you and the dude you're observing looks right at you.
–––
“Hey, did you guys see that dude earlier? The one with a cane?” you ask your friends after locating Kanaya.
“Yeah, why?” from Sollux.
“Nope!” Terezi cackles, you roll your eyes.
“Was he particularly young?” Kanaya asks.
“Yeah, him,” you respond to Kanaya, ignoring the other two responses, “what the hell’s up with that?”
“Karkat!” Terezi mockingly gasps and grins, “don’t you know how rude it is to question a person's disability? For shame!”
“Yeah, KK, that’s fucked up,” Sollux joins in, snickering and giving Terezi a fist bump.
“Fucking whatever!” you grumble before leaning close to your group and lowering your voice, “but haven’t any of you noticed that he’s kind of fucking following us?”
“That’s ridiculous, Karkat,” Kanaya scoffs, “this is a small fair, you’re bound to see the same people multiple times throughout the event. You’re being paranoid.”
“Nah, you’ve totally got a stalker,” Sollux goads and takes out his phone.
“Do you need a restraining order, Karkat? I can get you one,” Terezi smiles from ear to ear, clearly teasing you as well.
“Okay, fine! I’m being paranoid! Shut the hell up now,” you huff and exaggerate with your hands, almost bitch slapping a small child.
“I can’t take any of you anywhere,” Kanaya shakes her head and lets out a dramatic sigh.
“Can we go grab some drinks? I’m wilting away over here,” Sollux complains, scrolling through his phone.
“There are no alcoholic beverages here, Sollux. The event was designed for persons of eighteen years or younger,” Kanaya states, dodging a rambunctious kid.
“Boring!” Terezi sings out, picking her cane off the ground to gesture with it, “why are we even here if we aren’t going to get drunk?”
“I don’t think Kanaya wants to be the designated driver again, selfish bastards,” you voice, frowning at your friends.
“KK, she’s literally driving us home after this, she’s already our designated driver,” Sollux snarks at you while pocketing his phone.
“That’s not what designated driver means, dummy!” Terezi pipes up and smacks him in the leg with her cane, “a designated driver is someone who stays sober so they can drive all of their shit faced friends home, but none of us are wasted so that makes Kanaya our ride for the night!”
“Fuck, I’ve been saying the wrong thing my whole life? Why didn't any of you assholes tell me?” Sollux lours.
“Because witnessing you being a giant moron is a great fucking form of entertainment,” you provoke him and smirk.
Sollux smacks the back of your head and you jab him in the side before Kanaya can separate you two. All of you know that the insults and acts of violence you and Sollux throw at each other are all in good fun, but it can get a bit intense sometimes.
–––
Seeing the four friends mess around and laugh makes you feel bittersweet. You’ll catch up with them later, whether or not that’ll be tonight. You walk lamely towards Rose’s fortune telling booth, your leg is still sore but it’s not in damn near excruciating pain anymore.
“You’re going to drop dead if you continue to miss use your Norco, David,” Rose claims as you enter the hut.
“I’ll believe you when it happens, Rosaline,” you reply and lean onto your cane as you stand in front of her small table.
“You believe me when I inform you about your victims whereabouts,” she tuts as she shuffles a deck of cards, larger than the standard kind.
“I hate it when you call ‘em that,” you argue and limp over to the table, taking a seat with a sigh of relief, “I’m not a fuckin’ stalker.”
“Yes, I know. You’re just a “people watcher”, even though people watchers don’t follow others around – they sit in a public area and take in the sight of how many unique people there are in the world,” she gives you a pointed look as she finishes shuffling the cards, handing them to you after she deems the shuffle sufficient, “would you mix these up for me?”
“Why? You literally jus’ did that,” you raise your eyebrows over your shades, taking the cards anyways.
“I’m giving you a quick reading, the cards need your energy for it to be accurate,” Rose explains to you as if it’s common knowledge, which it really isn’t unless you’re a freaky goth witch.
“Sure, whatever,” you shuffle the cards like a dealer at a casino would, minus the wash because you doubt Rose would appreciate you rubbing her cards all over the table.
“Really? The first time I give you a tarot reading and you shuffle the cards like a we’re about to play Texas Hold’em.” she scoffs and leans back into her seat, watching you violate her cards.
“I don’t think a player can shuffle the deck and still play that game,” you state and finish up, handing the cards back to her, “I’m pretty sure that’d be cheatin’, so your analogy is kind of shit.”
She doesn’t respond as she takes the deck and divides it into three separate piles, setting each pile in front of her. She picks up one pile and spreads the cards between two hands, holding it out to you.
“Pick one,” Rose requests.
You shrug and pluck one out. She takes it and sets it face down on the table, placing the first pile in the middle of the table. You both repeat the process two more times.
“I love this part,” Rose confesses as she gazes down at the three lone cards on the table, “are you ready?”
“What is this even gonna tell me about? My love life?” you laugh under your breath.
“Possibly, but this is a simple future reading; however, we should do a love reading sometime, brother dearest,” she suggests, probably serious, and smiles, “let’s begin.”
She flips over the card to her right, it’s upside down for you but right side up for her, “The Wheel of Fortune,” she utters and you snort.
She flips over the middle card, upside down for you and right side up for her again, “The Lovers,” she smirks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.
Last card, upside down for you, “Eight of Cups.”
“Okaaay,” you give her a look and gesture at the cards with your hand, “what does all this shit mean?”
“Well, The Wheel of Fortune upright means change and inevitable fate is in your future,” Rose smiles again, “looks like your life is going to be shaken up a bit.”
“Hm, doubt it. What about the others?” you ask, dismissing her previous statement.
“Oh, yes, The Lovers upright means you should have new relationships in your future – usually romantic,” she smirks and you roll your eyes.
“Uh-huh, just tell me the last one. I got shit to do,” you check the time on a watch that isn’t on your wrist, just to annoy your sister.
“Of course, how could I take time away from your “people watching”? My most sincere apologies,” Rose snarks before clearing her throat, “The Eight of Cups reversed, your future will have avoidance, fear of change, and fear of loss in it.”
“Yikes,” you drawl flippantly and plant your cane on the ground for leverage to stand up, “wanna give me some real future stuff? I lost my mark by comin’ over here.”
“Fine,” Rose gripes, collecting the cards and putting them away before turning back to you, “your prey will be at a nearby pub in thirty minutes. The bar is called The Cellar and it’s located on Court Avenue, about a fifteen minute walk.”
“Y’know, the more you keep insultin’ my hobby the less I’ll believe in your witchcraft,” you insist, talking over your shoulder as you walk out of her hut.
“Don’t drink!” she shouts the reminder.
The Norco has pretty much fully kicked in by now, so your gait looks as if you’re less of a cripple and more of a dude who pulled a muscle. You’ll still rely on your cane though, using your leg while you can’t feel pain is just asking for more pain later. More pain means more Norco, and if you’re being honest… that wasn’t the first time Rose warned you about abusing your painkillers by saying you’ll drop dead, you’re not a true believer in that shit but you still heed her words when she says stuff like that.
Looks like Rose was right, it was only a fifteen minute walk. You struggle a bit walking up the steps since it’s made out of shitty concrete and comically uneven, it’s as if it was created with the purpose of making drunks dive head first into the sidewalk.
The door shuts loudly behind you and you wince at the slam. After walking over to a small booth in the back and sitting down, facing the rest of the pub, a short woman moseys up to you.
“What’ll it be?” she chirps, looking way too happy.
“Jus’ a water, please,” you request, setting your cane onto the rest of the seat in the booth.
“Alrighty! Would you like the veterans discount?” she asks, jotting down your simple order on a small notepad.
“Uhm, no? I’m not a veteran,” you deadpan.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I just thought- y’know, uhm, nevermind! Again, so sorry,” she apologies in earnest.
You wave it off, mumbling out that it’s okay. She scampers away, bringing back a glass of water several minutes later before rushing away again.
You sit, and sip, and wait.
–––
“Come the fuck on, douchecanoe, let’s just go to this bar,” you’re in the car and arguing with Sollux again. He wants to go to a whole ass nightclub almost an hour away, and none of you are having it. You’re the only one arguing with him about it, but you know that Terezi and Kanaya feel the same way.
“Yeah, Sollux! We can just get shitfaced and kicked out of the bar, it’s exactly as fun as clubbing!” Terezi pipes up from behind, finally.
“I would rather watch over you all in a contained drinking establishment than have to go searching for you every ten minutes in a dark club,” Kanaya adds from the driver's seat, turning onto Court Avenue.
“See? You’re outnumbered, this shitty and unnecessary vote goes to the three of us!” you announce, taking the piss out of him.
Kanaya parks in front of the modest pub, the one with the most cliche name ever. “The Cellar”, what kind of shit is this? You think to yourself and roll your eyes, stepping out of the passenger seat of the car.
The few steps leading up to the door are crumbling apart and slanted to the side. You and your friends tread carefully up the steps.
“Those steps were made as a reason to see some drunk assholes trip and eat asphalt,” you comment, earning a snort from Sollux and a shushing from Kanaya.
Sitting at the bar, each of you order a drink. You order a Black Russian, Sollux asks for a Negroni, and Terezi requests a Whiskey sour.
“Do you have any tea?” Kanaya asks the bartender.
“No, sorry,” he answers before adding, “we have juice, though. Is that okay?”
“If you don’t have any cranberry juice in stock then I’ll be fine with water and lemon,” she voices, adding a quiet thank you when the barman returns with a round glass filled with cranberry juice.
“We’re all paying for our own drinks, right?” Sollux questions your group.
“I’d put you in an asylum if you thought I’d pay for the amount of liver killers you two chucklefucks are gonna drink,” you remark and down some of your drink, taunting him and Terezi.
“At least we can hold our own, lightweight!” Terezi cackles and turns to Sollux for a high five, which he gives.
“What the fuck ever,” you retort, knocking back the rest of your beverage to hide the smile creeping onto your face.
Sollux drains the rest of his drink in retaliation.
“I can hear you guys guzzling down your drinks. Is this a challenge? Can I join?” Terezi squeals and feels around for her drink.
“Two o’clock, Tez,” you tell her, “and we are not having a drinking contest, that’s so mind numbingly childish.”
“KK, you’re just scared of losing your lunch halfway through,” Sollux mocks before asking the bartender for another Negroni.
“No, I’m not! I just don’t want to die from a hangover in the morning,” you offer as an excuse, wiping the condensation off of your empty glass.
“Fine! Sollux, I hereby challenge you to a duel of booze!” Terezi declares, pointing a finger at him.
“You are so going down, TZ,” Sollux prematurely brags, “can I get a round of shots for me and the soon-to-be sore loser?”
Terezi punches him in the arm and the bartender huffs out a laugh.
“What’s your poison?” the barman asks as he retrieves several shot glasses.
Terezi and Sollux share a look before shouting “double wide!” simultaneously. The worker makes six, giving three to both Terezi and Sollux.
“Kanaya, would you do us the honor?” Terezi grins as she spaces her three shots a few inches apart from each other.
“Of course,” Kanaya turns to watch the pair, “five, four, three… two…”
The competitors hover a hand next to their respective glasses.
“One!” She announces with a clap of her hands.
The pair snatch up one glass after another. Terezi finishes first. You let out a whoop when she downed her last shot.
“Congratulations, Terezi,” Kanaya affirms with a smile, going back to sipping on her juice.
“Ha!” Terezi barks and slaps a hand on Sollux’s back, “better luck next time!”
“You suck, TZ,” Sollux groans, wincing at the slap.
“Who’s the sore loser now?” she taunts, sticking her tongue out.
You order another Black Russian, smiling at your friends.
You catch a familiar face in the corner of your eye and glance over. Same dude from the fair… is he wearing sunglasses? Inside, in the middle of the night? What the fuck? You lean close to your friends and lower your voice.
“Guys, fucking look,” you try to subtly nod your head back to gesture at the guy in the booth, “same dude from the fair.”
“God damn, will you give it a rest? I was joking when I said you had a stalker,” Sollux hisses lowly at you, but you can see him glance at the man from behind his tinted glasses.
“I know you were joking, shit for brains,” you snap quietly at him, frowning.
Kanaya lets out a soft sigh, “Karkat, maybe he’s just here for a drink like us? The water here is less expensive than it is at the fair, he’s probably thirsty and didn’t want to spend over five dollars for a drink,” she insists with a whisper.
“The more you guys talk about him the more I want to talk to him,” Terezi voices, getting up from her bar stool, “which is exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Wait, Terezi, what the fuck-” you try to stop her but she smacks your hand away and holds her cane towards you as a threat. You hold your hands up in surrender and let her walk to the booth.
–––
The blind friend of the group gets up from her seat and… is making her way over to you. Fuck, you’ve been made. You grab the curve of your cane and hold it tightly, ready to get the fuck out at a moments notice.
Her cane knocks against the other entrance of the booth.
“This seat taken?” she asks.
“Naw,” you answer, allowing your southern twang to seep into your voice.
She takes a seat across from you, holding the top of her cane as it sits between her legs.
“You’re from Texas,” she doesn’t ask.
“Yeah,” you reply simply.
“What’s your name?”
“Dave,” you don’t ask for her name.
“What are you doing here in New York?” more fucking questions, ugh.
“Family,” you answer her, again.
“So, going sober tonight?” Why is she interrogating you?
“Aren’t you blind?” you decide to ask back.
“Yeah, but I can’t smell any liquor on your breath,” she mentions, rolling her cane between two hands, “so, going straight tonight?”
“Gotta get home somehow,” not a total lie, but you don’t like that she’s grilling you. You take a sip of your water, shifting in your seat.
“Are you an alcoholic?”
“You jus’ downed three shots and I’m drinkin’ water,” you snap lowly, “kind of a dumb question.”
“I know, but who comes to a bar for only a glass of water?” she smiles at you before adding, “You’re not an alcoholic, you’re a drug addict.”
“Pardon?” you grunt, clenching your jaw.
“I could hear the pill bottle in your coat pocket when you shifted in your seat a moment ago. Normally people don’t keep their pills in their pockets, they’ll store them in a bag when they go out in public. You’re not drinking because you’ll suffer the side effects, and that’s because you abuse your medication,” she analyzes you.
“What if my medication jus’ can’t be used with alcohol? Y’know, like most kinds’a drugs?” you’re starting to get pissed now.
“Maybe, but you’re physically disabled. You’re probably in a lot of pain, which is why you keep the painkillers in your coat,” she states and leans her elbow on the table, propping her head up with a hand.
“How do you even-”
“My friend, shouty over there, keeps going on and on about you using a cane,” she jabs a thumb over in the direction of the bar, mentioning the guy you’ve been acting as a shadow for, “and he was wondering, and to be frank I’m also curious now, about why you’re a cripple.”
That’s it, you’re out.
You grab your cane and use the table to get up, muttering “Thanks for the conversation, be seein’ you,” and hustle out the door.
–––
When the guy suddenly gets up and rushes out the bar, you glare at Terezi.
“Jesus, what did you say to him?”
“Well he’s from Texas and his name is Dave,” she doesn’t answer your question as she plops back into her seat at the bar.
“Okay? That doesn’t answer my question,” you urge.
“Well, first I asked what he was doing here in New York.”
“And?” Sollux also urges.
“He said “family”. Then I asked why he wasn’t having any booze, he said he had to get home somehow. Then I asked if he was an alcoholic.”
“Terezi, no,” Kanaya whines and puts her head in her hands.
You facepalm, Sollux laughs.
“That’s when he started to get irritated,” Terezi grins, clearly passing way over the line of being tipsy, “you should’ve heard how mad his southern timbre sounded when I figured out he’s actually abusing his painkillers.”
Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of their sockets, that’s how wide your eyes are right now. AKA: you’re kind of fucking shocked.
“Is that why he left?” Sollux basically asks for you, being that you’re too shocked to ask that yourself.
“Oh, no, of course not. He left when I told him about how Karkat over here was wondering why he has a cane and I asked why he’s disabled.”
“Terezi! Holy fuck! Why!?” you holler, red filling your cheeks with embarrassment and anger.
Sollux is now doubled over, holding his stomach as he laughs.
“Why are you so mad, Karkles? I got you so much information on your stalker!” Terezi hoots out a laugh.
You’re about to blow up when Kanaya places a hand on your shoulder.
“I think that’s enough mischief for tonight, let’s get you all home,” Kanaya doesn’t suggest.
You feel bad for the guy.