Intermissions (homestuck)

pleasantries are primitive

Your name was Karkat Vantas and it was now that you were feeling exceptionally dumbfounded if not incredibly astonished. Yes, you had screwed up and now was no big exception. At least this time it seemed you were going to have an awful hard time weaseling yourself out of this certain dilemma. You sighed deeply, exhaling a visible puff of vapor into the frosty Manhattan air while you adjusted the loose strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder. You looked down once more at the scrap of paper with the hastily scribbled address written across it that you desperately clutched your quivering hand.

Gog, it was like the frozen fucking tundra out here! Well what had you expected? It was the middle of November in as far north as you cared to journey in the U.S. of A. and you stood out in the glacial frigid night in no more than skinny jeans and a hoodie that couldn’t keep you from trembling in your red hightops.  That only reminded you of how screwed you were right now. And why was that?

You glance back up from the address and allowed your copper yet crimson flecked eyes to skim the shabby apartment complex before you. You honestly weren’t entirely sure what to make of the unpleasant brick that seemed to be an aspiring disaster rutted with a dingy fire escape and pathetic barred windows on the three story building. Well. No place like home.

You bit now on your lip to keep it from shivering while the thoughts flooded your mind about the cause of such a sudden change of location. You supposed you should have seen it coming though; your short-tempered and drunken father finally becoming more than just unmercifully violent. You were sickened by the thought and closed your eyes momentarily, wishing the disconcerting notions from your mind. After a deep breath you were ready to forget about leaving home in Harlem and scrapping the precious saved money from the shoebox under your mattress that you’d earned doing odd jobs and what not only to realize that you would only have enough to float you for a couple months. 

So what had you done? Escaped to the other side of Manhattan and found a cheap room after research at an internet café where you could at least reside for a while. Until your dad cooled off or until your older brother found you and brutally dragged you back “home”. It would never be home and never had been since your mother had died.  But you inhaled a shaky breath to calm yourself; to push the tears that threatened in your eyes while bring the back of your hand from your hoodie pocket to wipe across your runny nose.

You shoved your hands down back deep into your jeans pockets and headed for the paint chipped door, head down and converse clad feet shuffling on the marshy street. You irritably remembered that it had been a downpour of a slushy mixture of ice and rain earlier as you huddled deep in your uncomfortable seat on the bus after taking a metro and walking a few blocks. It made the temperature and voyage even more formidable. Yet you still attempted not to slip as you reluctantly treaded up the steps and knocked hesitantly on that same dull colored door with a white boney knuckled fist. You couldn’t really distinguish the exact color in the dim orange streetlight but all those thoughts left you as the alarming sounds of someone approaching the door on the other side jolted you from your thoughts.

You stared baffled as the door cracked open a bit to reveal a skeptical looking figure behind the opening in the door that was restrained by a rusty chain on the inside. “What the fuck do you want?”  The balding man grunted while narrowing his cloudy eyes at you. Well you actually wondered if he could actually see you to begin with and after waving a tentative hand in his field of vision your studious notion was confirmed. Still you hastily replied through chattering teeth. “I called earlier.” You drew a breath and resisted a devious sneeze before continuing. “About a sharing a loft on the third floor.” You bit your lip again and vehemently tried to keep the torrent of curses from escaping your chapped lips as he seemed to mull it over before without warning slamming the door in your face.