Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you are staring at your phone blankly after Rose – your temporary therapist-in-training – called you and told you that you can't attend her sessions anymore, then hung up.
There is something wrong. Rose never said the word 'sorry' twice in a sentence. And she sounded like she was on the verge of crying. You know that Rose Lalonde rarely cried, even if she never told you. Something about the way she handles her movements implies so.
A sigh escapes from you.
You, Kanaya Maryam, has fallen for – of all people – your therapist. Admiration has always been a difficult emotion for you to contain since you can remember. Surely she has noticed all your gazing and body language, which is the reason why she doesn't want to see you anymore. You have scared her off. Why would she like you back, anyway?
You grip the part above your chest as it threatens to consume you with grief.
Melancholy. Always melancholy. You wonder if this feeling would ever pass. Maybe if you hadn't seen her flier one day, this wouldn't happen. What were you even thinking about that time? 'Oh hey, maybe I need therapy! Therapy is good! Surely it will cure me!'
It sure as hell didn't. How were you to know that Rose Lalonde would capture your interest? The sound of her three syllable name leaving nothing but butterflies whenever you say or think of it. If only the two of you hadn't been placed in such a small space, maybe your heart wouldn't be hammering when you see her.
But enough about you, something is bothering Rose. If you could provide any form of help at all – even if she now despised you for harboring feelings for her – you would still do it. Why was she crying though?
You tried calling her, but she is not answering her phone. Maybe you should talk to her in person?
But you don't even know where Rose stays at. Her location is something of a privacy to her, and you are frustrated by this lack of information. How can you send secret love letters to her like the stalker your few friends claim you to be?
Speaking of friends...
You dial his number, and he picks up on the third ring.
“What.”
“Good evening to you too, Karkat.”
You heard him sigh over the receiver. “Is this about that Rose chick again? I swear, Kanaya, my ears are going to fall off my face soon from hearing you ramble about your goddamn therapist crush.”
“Well,” you bit your lip guiltily, “tonight is different. I presume something is wrong and I was wondering if you might-”
“Just tell her, Maryam.”
“Um... tell her what?” you ask.
“That you're King Kong and you're gonna kidnap her. For fuck's sake, just tell her what you feel! You wanna get inside her pants or something, right?”
You blush. “You know it's not like that because I respect a person's-”
“Yeah, yeah. You're the motherfucking epitome of respect and love. I just want you to tell her so you wouldn't be sad anymore, you know? Okay? Good night, Kanaya.”
“But I don't even know where-” Karkat had hung up “-she is,” you finished with a sigh
* * *
You don't know why, but you've found yourself walking outside in the cold, in the hopes of finding her. You are actually “winging it”, as others would say. You are not entirely sure your attempt at searching will be fruitful.
