Chapter Text
Karkat saw someone move in the corner of his eye and internally sighed. He silently prayed whoever it was would just move on without talking to him, and stooped to pick up another box. It seemed like he hadn't checked his calendar that morning and had missed his warning that today was national ‘don’t bother showing up to work today, just let Karkat do all your work for you!’ day. Two of his co-workers had called off sick, leaving him and one other worker pretty much by themselves for the entire day. It was finally nearing late enough that barely anyone was in the store, and he'd thought he was finally free from annoying customers.
No one spoke to him as he very determinedly made himself busy stocking cans of soup on the shelf, so maybe he was in the clear and wouldn't have to regret having this shit job more than he already did. He spent the next ten minutes in a monotonous cycle of grab new box from cart, take can out, stack can on shelf with the label facing forward, and repeat. The only noise was the radio that constantly played in the store so visiting customers wouldn't be consumed by the soul-sucking silence, though none of the songs were good enough to be worth listening to even if he could properly hear them over the shitty speakers.
Finally, he emptied the last box, sighed with relief, and leaned against the end of the aisle. How did he even run on this little energy? When he got home he'd have to eat the unhealthiest thing in his kitchen and fall asleep on the couch while watching Netflix to make up for this shitty day. Yeah… he’d take a shower, put on his loosest pajama pants and fuzzy sweater, take a spoon to a tub of ice cream if he wanted. He could treat his damn self.
“Um, excuse me, Vantas,” someone said to his right, pulling him out of his short and imaginary reprieve. It was his co-worker, a tall man with straight, shoulder-length black hair and body odor that couldn't be escaped unless you left the fucking building.
“Yes?” Karkat asked, crossing his arms but not moving otherwise.
“I thought you had been working here quite awhile, before I even joined this working team,” his co-worker continued.
“Don't fucking remind me,” Karkat muttered.
“Language, Vantas. Just because there are no customers in the store doesn't mean you shouldn't be professional,” his co-worker put his hands on his hips, a pretty amusing sight on a muscled, 6’3’’ man.
“Make me, Equius. You're not the boss. Our boss couldn't even bother to fucking show up today with everyone just taking a goddamn vacation, that's how little anyone gives a fuck about being professional around here,” Karkat snapped, throwing up his hands and straightening up.
“I understand you are upset with the lack of help around today, but I would ask you remember that Nepeta is not out of her own choice. She is visiting a family member out of state to help them through a loss, and you should appreciate that she is kind enough to take time off for others. Besides, if you continue this conduct, I could report you to our manager. Purposefully doing your job wrong and cursing while the store is open is surely something I should be reporting.”
“Okay, first, fuck off,” Karkat started, pointing a threatening finger at him. He wasn't actually afraid of Equius’s threats, the guy knew Karkat was one of the few who did any fucking work around here, and the store couldn't afford to lose him. Speaking of, “second, what do you mean purposefully doing my job wrong?”
Equius motioned down the aisle Karkat had just finished stocking. “That's what I came to ask you about. You stocked the cans backwards.”
Karkat flipped around and looked back at the aisle. Every single can he had just stocked was turned around so the label was facing inwards, hiding what the contents of the cans were. He swore so loudly Equius flinched beside him and whispered, “Vantas, please.”
Karkat spun back around, seething. “I stocked those correctly the first time, some fucking customer must think they're the funniest motherfucker to walk the earth! Giving more work to the minimum wage retail worker, what a great fucking joke!”
“Vantas, heaven's sake,” Equius almost whined, “No one appreciates this language. Besides, I just said there are no customers in the store right now.”
“I- wait, there isn't?” Karkat frowned. Or, frowned more than he already was. “I just saw one ten minutes ago.”
Equius tilted his head in confusion. “I've been by the door for the past hour and no one's come in.”
“What the fuck?” Karkat glanced back down the aisle. He had seen someone, hadn't he? He heard Equius sigh and return to wherever the fuck he was working. “I guess I'll just fix the cans my-fucking-self,” Karkat muttered. He spun the nearest can and started his way all the way back to where he started.
When he'd finally finished straightening out all the cans, spinning around the ones on the bottom shelf last, he stood and cracked his back. That was it, he was getting two gallons of ice cream. He didn't care if he couldn't possibly eat that much, no way could he stay sane if he didn't get some kind of compensation for this.
“Karkat,” Equius called from the other end of the soup aisle, “I thought you were fixing these.”
Karkat turned to face Equius, and groaned. All the cans in the first half of the aisle were turned around again. He longed to bang his head on the metal shelves. “Okay, what the fuck. Is this a prank? Is this you trying to prank me right now? Did Terezi or Vriska put you up to this?”
“Of course not, I don't have time for foolishness.” Equius returned to his own work and Karkat stomped over the first the cans again, suppressing the urge to smash one of the cans over someone's head. His own head, maybe. Whatever the fuck.
When all the cans were facing the right direction again, he faced the whole soup aisle and narrowed his eyes. “Well? You wanna try it again, asshole?”
There was silence. Then, suddenly, there was a heavy hand on his shoulder and he yelped, flinging up his hands for self-defense. Equius stood back and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture.
“Um, Vantas, it seems you could use a break for the sake of your mental health,” Equius said slowly, obviously concerned. “I saw some customers heading in, so perhaps you should take the cash register.”
Karkat rubbed his face with his hands. “You know what, fine, good idea. You deal with the fucking devil soup aisle, I'll deal with idiots who can't count their change in less than a fucking millennium.” He shoved past Equius before he could respond and around the counter to stand behind the only register they had in the damn store. Over the next few minutes a couple walked in, bought some cigarettes and candy bars like this was a damn gas station, and left.
With a long sigh that almost felt like his soul leaving his body, he thumped his head down on the cold counter and folded his arms. He was going insane and wanted to go home.
“Wow dude, you okay?” Someone asked above him. Oh right, customers were a thing.
“I make minimum wage and I've been working since 8am, what the fuck is okay?” He said, not even looking up. Oh look at that, he couldn't even summon the energy to give a fuck about being professional. Maybe he'd get lucky and be fired.
“Well shit, man, that sucks,” the stranger said.
There was silence. Well, except for the constant drone of whatever shit was on the radio. After way too long of the stranger not moving and Karkat smushing his face into the cold counter, Karkat looked up at him. It wasn't like a customer would just go away or anything.
Karkat felt a spike of fear when his eyes landed on him and just barely stopped himself from jumping back. He didn’t know why, because the customer wasn’t intimidating-looking in the slightest. He looked around 17 or 18 years old at most, and was leaning against the conveyer belt, twirling one of the dividers in his hand like a baton. He was also rather short, though probably taller than Karkat who was 5’1’’, but he certainly looked like the kind of guy who had to balance on stacks of books to get something from the cupboard rather than ask for help. The stranger was wearing a simple red t-shirt and some jeans, though the intense color contrasted weirdly with his incredibly pale skin. The weirdest thing was the pair of reflective shades that took up a large portion of his face even though it wasn’t bright at all.
Despite the fact the stranger really shouldn’t scare him, a weird chill went down Karkat’s spine with every random detail he took in. Everything about him just seemed so… wrong? The guy's hair was such a bright shade of blonde, but the second he noted that some voice in his head said, 'no, that's not right’. He was spinning the divider-baton with a surprising amount of dexterity, 'but that's not possible’. His face, what could be seen of it, was completely blank and unreadable, 'but how can it be?’. It was like everything about this guy was Karkat going through a math problem he had learned how to solve years ago, and is remembering the different steps but not how to put them together. Yes, pale skin, shades, and blonde hair added together made this guy, but somehow that isn't quite the right answer yet.
He found himself fighting to stay still as his fight or flight reflex went fucking crazy.
The guy tossed the divider into the air and it landed perfectly on the conveyer where it had been before. “Was it part of your cashier training to learn how to stare at customers?” He asked.
Karkat glared. “No, but it's my policy to kick your ass out of my checkout line if you're not buying anything.”
“Wow, okay,” the guy raised his hand in front of his chest in mock offense. “I'm just being a good samaritan and giving the poor overworked cashier some company.”
“Didn't ask for it. Buy or get out.” Karkat pushed away from the counter and crossed his arms, staring down the unsettling stranger right in his sunglasses.
“Kay.” The guy stuck his hands in his pockets and walked backwards into the aisles.
Karkat sighed in relief and sagged against the back of the little cubicle. Jesus, what was that about? He rubbed his arms a little, willing that weird chill to go away. That was just a normal dude, why was he so freaked out? Ugh. Even so, he stick one hand in his pocket to fiddle with his phone, a nervous habit that meant he always had 911 at the ready.
After a long while without the guy returning, Karkat glanced out the window. Outside, the town was as quiet as it ever was. The sun had set and they were only about 45 minutes from finally reaching closing time. He really couldn't wait to be done with this. Maybe if he quit he could get a job at a fast food place.
The door swung open and someone bustled in. Wow, about fucking time there was some actual customers in the store. How did this place even stay in business?
The stranger, a young woman in a big lavender overcoat, walked over. “Sorry I'm here so late; I didn't interrupt your closing, I hope?”
Karkat managed to fake a smile. “Nope, we don't close til 9, miss.”
“Oh good, damn buses and state lines-” she kept talking as she wandered off to the back of the store. It was pretty common to find hassled travellers running in to grab some bare nutrition before going on their way again, and Karkat welcomed the normality.
It took her only about three minutes to find what she needed and Karkat mechanically scanned the doritos, duct tape, hair pins, and pizza rolls. The woman was gone as quickly as she came, purple coat swishing behind her.
Again Karkat was left with nothing to do. He considered going back and trading jobs with Equius again, or cleaning, or anything else productive, but felt sinking exhaustion at the idea of doing anything. Instead he played around on his phone until five minutes to close, hoping his boss wouldn't bother checking the cameras.
It was about then he realized he never saw the unsettling guy come back. He should probably go find him and kick him out of the store so they could close. He followed the way he remembered him disappearing, and walked the aisles until he found him.
God damn it. God, fucking- “God dammit how the fuck did I know you'd be here?” Karkat facepalmed and sighed heavily at the scene before him. He was again in the soup aisle, only now he found all the cans taken off the shelf and stacked neatly two inches in front of where they should be. He found the creepy stranger about halfway down the aisle, a can of chicken noodle in his hand and a frown of concentration as he carefully stacked it above his own head on an ever-growing tower.
“I don't know, you're psychic? Oh man, we're Sybil all up in here, Seeing all my moves before they happen. How can I hope to compete?” he replied, completely monotone while he took another can off the shelf and added it to the tower.
“What in the fuck do you think you're doing here, you shitwaffle?” Karkat snapped, stomping over and snatching a can of tomato soup from the man's hand.
“Who would even make a waffle out of shit?”
“Your mom!” Karkat waved the can, “Get the fuck out of my store before I call the cops!”
“Heh. Good luck with that.” With that, the guy just stuck his hands in his pockets and waltzed out the front doors.
Karkat eventually found Equius, explained that he had found the customer messing with the soup and kicked him out, then decided to just go home and leave the cleanup to Equius. It was a pretty shitty thing to do, and he'd feel bad about it later, but right now all he could think about was eating ice cream right out of container like a heartbroken woman in a TV sitcom. Speaking of, he grabbed a box of strawberry out of the freezer and had Equius ring him up quick, then he was out the door.
He had never felt as free as he did when the night air hit him and he was washed over with the distant sounds of city life. The parking lot outside was small, since they were a very small grocery store that didn't get nearly enough customers to fill the tiny lot they did have. The only car there was Equius's truck, since Karkat lived in an apartment building just a few blocks down.
He took a deep breath of fresh air, letting it completely fill his lungs, then let it all out in woosh, washing away the day's troubles. Clutching his box of ice cream, he swung around and strode down the sidewalk to his apartment building.
He went through a mental checklist as his feet clicked on the stone. He'd decided to give himself the rest of the night off to deal with the stress, but tomorrow he would have to play a bit of catch up. He wasn't in college as of now, and he wasn't quite sure why. He just felt… too busy for it. He was sure he'd go next year, but he needed a job that he could juggle school with better. In the meantime, he'd taken up several small jobs aside from the store, most of which he'd accidentally been neglecting through lack of energy. Nepeta had paid him to take care of her plants while she was away-which reminded him, he would have to text her to see how that deal with her cousin and the funeral went- and if he didn't follow through on that, they'd die. Then he'd feel awful cause he killed his friend's plants AND stole her money. Terezi had made him promise to help her with her criminology class by being the subject of some 'social experiment’ on Monday, too. It sounded suspicious as hell, but it meant he'd have to find the energy to wash more clothes than just his work outfit this weekend. God, what else did he have to do?
“Oh hey dude, fancy meeting you out here,” a voice said, and Karkat froze in place.
“Are you fucking stalking me?” He whirled around, hand going for his phone. “Don't tell me you're gonna fucking mug me, I don't have anything but ice cream on me anyway.”
The unsettling stranger held up his hands to show he didn't have any weapons. “No way, man, just wanted to have a friendly bro chat and walk you home. We're getting downright fraternal, chilling in the middle of the night.”
“I'm going to fucking die.” Karkat meant to facepalm, but was still holding the ice cream in his other hand and ended up smacking himself in the face with the frozen solid container. The man snickered.
“I mean, I'm not going to kill you, really,” the guy said, sticking his hands in his pockets again. His shades reflected the streetlight in a glare that made Karkat blink. “Whatever happened to friendly chats between strangers? Sharing your woes to an open ear at the bus stop? Drunkenly rambling about your life's problems to the barkeep?”
“Giving all your personal information to a creepy customer who rearranged your soup aisle then followed you into the dark?” Karkat suggested sarcastically. “Go the fuck away, I'm not letting you follow me home.”
The guy shrugged. “I mean, I'm coming home with you anyway. Kinda have to.”
Karkat felt a trickle of dread go through his whole body, leaving his blood cold. Holy shit he really was about to be kidnapped and killed and this is so not how he wanted to go-
“I'm calling the police.” He risked pulling out his phone and quickly dialling the three numbers.
“All that'll happen is you'll be dragged off to a mental ward, man, don't bother,” the stranger shrugged again.
Karkat couldn't help but freeze before hitting call. “...Why would that be?” He asked slowly. Oh god why wasn’t he running yet?
The stranger smirked. “Cause you're shouting at thin air.”
Karkat frowned even more deeply in confusion. The guy was showing no signs of explaining what he meant, still looking very relaxed in the low light of the streetlamp. Except… he was maybe five feet from Karkat now, and maybe it was just the lighting but…
He didn't look… real?
'He’s not right,’ a little part of Karkat's brain told him, 'he's wrong, he's wrong’. Karkat took a shaky breath. “What do you mean?”
The stranger stepped forward, further into the light and closer to Karkat, holding out a hand for a shake. With a jolt of fear, Karkat saw he was right. He could just barely see the light going through the man and hitting the sidewalk, creating no shadow and not hindered by him at all.
“I'm Dave Strider,” the stranger said, “and I'm dead.”
Karkat turned and ran down the street at full speed.