Hatsumiyo-momichi

You could never describe the pain you felt when Karkat scrubbed your wound with alcohol. He had made you sit on the toilet’s seat as he worked, a concentrated frown on his face, his small, expert hands working over it and squeezing the area to check for pus. You tried your best to keep quiet and still, but God was it hard, and God did you wish you could just die on the spot. He had helped you into the kitchen after that, and forced you to eat a little after your reply to the question “When did you eat last?” had been a painful, careless shrug. You didn’t feel hungry, but you knew better than to refuse the food. You t

You hate this sort of situation. You hate being in a class in which none of your friends are at. You were lucky enough this year to have most classes with Aradia, and the rest with Nepeta, so you weren't exactly alone in any other class besides Science Class. But it was in this very same class that you usually had to pick a partner to do the experiments with. And you have no friends here. You had to endure two experiments already in which the teacher pronounced the so dreaded words "pick a lab partner" in which you were able to just look around awkwardly, hoping someone else would notice you, and happily wish to pair up with you. You never h

You try to pretend you're not listening to his conversation on the phone as he sits right next to you on the bed. You look away, you look towards the radio that you had put on mute when his phone had vibrated, you try to to focus on the dirt hiding under your chewed up nails; but you're sure that if he tried, he would notice you are actually listening to every word he is saying with your ears perked up as far as they can go, figuratively. You can't help but look his way when he starts to raise his voice just a little, enough for you to begin to worry. He glances your way before looking down to his crossed legs, and he begins to play with the

You stuff your hands inside your pockets just so that he doesn´t see you dig your nails into your palms until your knuckles turn white. You try to look at his face, try to bring yourself to spit out the words you were wishing you could tell him, listening to the obnoxious sound of the kids laughing and screaming and playing all around the school´s playground. You had told him you had to talk to him, told him to follow you to the private corner in the playground near the teachers´ restroom, and he had obeyed without saying anything more than an “okay”. Now he was in front of you, staring at you with his beautiful

Ch 7: Broken Heart He had dates with her almost every weekend. He loved to see her put on her best outfits, see her wear her pretty make-up, see her fix herself just to look good for him. Or at least that´s what he thought was going on. He was with her now, eating Chinese food as they had decided the day before at a pretty restaurant downtown. And God, did she look especially gorgeous tonight. Or at least that´s what he thought. He observed her take a peek at him from across the small table, to which he froze and blushed, to then take out her cell phone and start texting over the table, the light of the small bright screen flashing over her

He held the sheet of paper with the address in one hand, checking it every five steps he took down the quiet street. His friends had told him that the dude was the best there is, practically a genius, and that he would learn right away. He needed art classes, since his art skills were practically non-existent. There wasn´t really a mayor reason for learning the basics of art, though. It just was something that he needed to do for himself, something to pass the summer time, something that might be useful someday when he felt the urge of painting something for someone special. It should be an interesting experience. On his other hand was a sket

His shirt sticked to his back from the heat outside. His fingers where dialing the phone number he had memorized months ago, adding some area codes the lady at the counter was yelling at him to dial each time he lifted his eyes to tell her the phone didn´t work. Gamzee was leaning against the wall, his eyes going from Tavros´ to his hurried fingers clicking the numbers on the old phone. He wished he could help him, but the last time he used that phone he just gave up on it. Tavros´ expression changed in the blink of an eye and Gamzee knew he had finally got it. -Hello?- He spoke into the microphone, his eyes darting to Gamz