i really loved breaking your heart
WHO: Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas
WHERE: Their shitty one bedroom apartment.
WHAT: motherfucking SOBRIETY.
[The tour was awesome - Gamzee can't even really deny that. If there was a chart of awesome shows they've done, Gamzee's sure this tour would top it. The problem is - when you're on the road, and when you're in a band full of the laziest motherfuckers known to man, it's hard to score. Or rather, Gamzee forgets to. And eventually he runs out and then eventually he sobers up and then things start to get fucking sour. It's fine on the road, because there's the alcohol to sort of dumb it down. He's got weed and sometimes there's coke, but mostly it's just a barely soothing halo of light covering the aching underneath.
When the tour ends, he's been clean for exactly thirteen days. Gamzee thinks, motherfucking unlucky number right there, and he is so fucking irritable. His skins stopped crawling exactly two days ago, but that also means his heads clear. It means a lot of things; but mostly what it means is that when he slams the door closed to their apartment and he dumps his bag in the hall, Gamzee is baiting for blood.
His hands are twitching with the anticipation and he motherfucking hopes Karkat is home, because hasn't he missed that tiny, insignificant motherfucker? Hasn't he missed his motherfucking best friend who texted every day to make sure he was still taking all that toxic shit?
He goes to the kitchen first, because he's been on tour and a motherfucker has to got to eat. And maybe Karkat will have heard the door slamming, but he'll definitely here the cupboards in the kitchen being barely left on their hinges.]
WHERE: Their shitty one bedroom apartment.
WHAT: motherfucking SOBRIETY.
[The tour was awesome - Gamzee can't even really deny that. If there was a chart of awesome shows they've done, Gamzee's sure this tour would top it. The problem is - when you're on the road, and when you're in a band full of the laziest motherfuckers known to man, it's hard to score. Or rather, Gamzee forgets to. And eventually he runs out and then eventually he sobers up and then things start to get fucking sour. It's fine on the road, because there's the alcohol to sort of dumb it down. He's got weed and sometimes there's coke, but mostly it's just a barely soothing halo of light covering the aching underneath.
When the tour ends, he's been clean for exactly thirteen days. Gamzee thinks, motherfucking unlucky number right there, and he is so fucking irritable. His skins stopped crawling exactly two days ago, but that also means his heads clear. It means a lot of things; but mostly what it means is that when he slams the door closed to their apartment and he dumps his bag in the hall, Gamzee is baiting for blood.
His hands are twitching with the anticipation and he motherfucking hopes Karkat is home, because hasn't he missed that tiny, insignificant motherfucker? Hasn't he missed his motherfucking best friend who texted every day to make sure he was still taking all that toxic shit?
He goes to the kitchen first, because he's been on tour and a motherfucker has to got to eat. And maybe Karkat will have heard the door slamming, but he'll definitely here the cupboards in the kitchen being barely left on their hinges.]