Chapter Text
Your name is Karkat Vantas. You were born approximately eighteen years ago, on June 12th, and you lived in the sunny neighborhood of Alternia, where you attended a perfectly normal elementary school. From there, you progressed to an extremely average high school. Now, after being accepted, you're entering a prestigious regular college. Skaia University was founded in the 1880's, and is situated in the middle of a small humdrum town. The locals are nice enough, though they're rarely seen, and the student body is decent enough. You assume it'll be nothing but easy sailing from here. You'll get your degree, then go to law school, where you'll obtain the necessary credentials to become a prosecutor.
Today is move in day, and you're beyond excited to prepare your new space. The room is fairly small, perhaps a little over three meters square, and it features a single bunk bed. The desks are positioned well enough to remain where they are. One is against the southern wall, along which there's a large window and a sink; the other is to the north, sharing a wall with the entry door. On the eastern wall, along with a door to the bathroom, there are two tiny closets. You claim the one closest to the window, and begin to set up your things. You also claim the desk on the southern wall, as well as the dresser beside it.
You decorate the wall on your side with posters of some of your favorite stars. There's Arjun Rampal, Anil Kapoor, the essential Shah Rukh Khan, and some others. Your bed, the lower bunk, is neatly made, sporting a colorful quilt made for you by your mother. A flourishing peace lily goes on the windowsill, and you stock the desk's bookshelf with your textbooks. A desk calendar is neatly set atop a stack of old CD covers, which you've repurposed as a display stand, and all of your pens are held in the built in compartment on your desk lamp's base.
When everything is settled, you bid farewell to your parents. You look around once again.
Dave has moved in already. That much is obvious. His things are stacked in precarious piles all around the room. An electric DJ's turntable sits on top of his dresser, and the drawers hang open. You see little inside. There are some socks, a few red and white baseball shirts, a polo shirt, and two pairs of jeans. Beyond this, it seems he owns little more than the sheets on his bed, his textbooks, and a tattered leather jacket. All of it reeks of a mix of cigarette smoke and alcohol. It's an overpowering smell, and you quickly spray it down with a healthy dose of air freshener. Now, at the very least, the room smells more like French vanilla, with only vague underpinnings of the original stench.
Shortly afterwards, you hear a quiet tapping. It echoes up and down the hallway, until there's a beep from the electronic fob reader outside your door. When the door opens, you get your first look at your new roommate. He's the exact opposite of you in every possible way. He towers above you, standing a solid six feet tall (at least). Your skin is a rich medium brown, and your slightly curled but often messy hair is black; he's the palest person you've ever met, and his neatly groomed hair is a light golden blond. His face is long, his jaw pronounced, and his eyes are hidden behind a pair of reflective black shades.
"I'm guessing you're Dave?" you ask, quirking your brow.
He shrugs. His expression remains the definition of apathy, with his lips forming little more than a straight line of indifference. When he speaks, his voice matches. It's a monotone, and the only sign of humanity is a pronounced southern drawl. "And I'm assumin' you're the one who made my room smell like an old folk's home just finished fuckin' up an ice cream store?"
"Yeah. Hello to you, too, douchebag," you huff. Now, you know exactly one thing about your roommate: he's a raging asshole. "At least I'm not wearing shades inside, like some sort of fucking wannabe cool kid from the 1990's."
Dave pauses. He reaches into the pocket of his tattered black jeans and pulls out something. When he flicks his wrist, it extends into a fairly long white cane. "I sure as hell can't see your face from here, but I can imagine what it looks like. Boy, do I love pulling that one on people." He folds the cane up, stuffs it back into his pocket, and wanders around the room. From time to time, he sweeps one foot out in front of him, presumably feeling for something to trip on.
You, meanwhile, remain frozen in place. Your cheeks burn, though you know no one can see your blush. Your fingers are curled into fists, and your temper is rising. You'd been notified that your roommate had a "unique situation" in an email over the summer, but you'd never been told what it was. You just assumed he had some sort of weird habit, like hoarding tortoise shells or jarring dead things. Maybe he was having personal problems. You would have loved to have known your roommate was blind before you actually moved in, then opened your goddamned mouth.
"So, what? You're Karlos? Carlton?" Dave turns to look at you. He spins his folded cane between his fingers. "You're something Vantas, right?"
"Karkat," you growl. Your blood is boiling, and your heart pounds against your chest.
"Weird name." Dave shrugs. He turns his back to you, feels around on top of his dresser, and pulls down his turntables. He sets them on his desk, then turns his attentions back to you. "Anyhow, yeah. I'll let the cat out of the bag right now. I'm not exactly swimmin' in inky black darkness, but it's a fuckin' nightmare for me to deal with too much shit where it shouldn't be. I'd love if you could maybe notify me if you're moving any furniture, or plan on leaving too much trash on the floor. I'm a hell of a slob, too, but I've gotta keep it organized."
You nod slowly. At this point, you want nothing to do with your roommate. He's already pissed you off and humiliated you, so it's not as if he's one for first impressions.
Yet, he continues talking. By now, a pair of trashy old headphones hang around his neck. "By the way, we're in the same orientation group. It's based on hallway, so we'll be doing a lot of bonding this weekend."
"I can hardly contain my excitement," you grumble, gathering your things. You shove them into your messenger bag, and abscond from your room as quickly as you can.
You retreat to the downstairs lobby, where you settle in on one of the two sofas. You open up your laptop, and continue to work on finishing some old writing.
Eventually, though, you grow tired. Your clock tells you it's roughly 10:00 PM, and you figure you should be trying to return to your dorm. Once again, you gather your things. After placing them in your bag, you return upstairs.
When you open the door to your room, you're immediately accosted by the smell of freshly roasted coffee. It's an odd scent, seeing as you don't have a coffee maker in your room, but you figure Dave simply picked some up from the campus café. If not, he probably found someone else on the hall with one.
"You're going to bed already?" Dave asks. A single brow rises above the rims of his stupid shades.
You don't respond. For now, you'll follow your dad's advice. Responding is only adding fuel to the fire, and you're far too tired for that can of putrid worms tonight. You change, climb into your bed, and swiftly fall asleep.
When you wake up, Dave's bed is empty. He's nowhere to be found, and it's a comforting feeling. You prepare for the day with a bit more pep in your step than you would have had otherwise, and walk down to the dining hall.
There, however, you're greeted by someone unexpectedly throwing an arm over your shoulder. A white cane hits your stomach, and an unmistakable voice greets you. "Howdy, Karkat. I was just coming to wake you up for orientation. But, hey, since you're already here, I might as well show you to John." He doesn't wait for you to answer. Instead, he pulls you along behind him. His cane moves rhythmically. When he steps on his left foot, it moves right; when he steps on his right foot, it swings left. The movements are well-versed and familiar, which makes you think he's done this for a while.
Eventually, you stop in front of a table occupied by a man with tan skin and messy black hair. His almond-shaped eyes are a brilliant sky blue, and his buck-toothed grin is almost contagious. "So this is your roommate, Dave?"
"Yeah. He's an okay dude, I guess." Dave pats you on the back.
You're unsure if you should take his words as a compliment.
John, meanwhile, plows ahead. "Name's John Egbert. I'm Dave's best friend, and maybe his only one." John snickers at this comment. Then, like Dave, he keeps going without any input. "Those are some sick earbuds, by the way."
You pause. You open your mouth to ask him what the fuck he's talking about. Then, his words register with you. "They're hearing aids, you absolute dumbass."
Dave lets forth little more than a snort of laughter. He sits down, taking the spot beside John, and turns to face you. "You're welcome to eat with us, if you want."
"I'll let you two catch up, actually," you grumble, shuffling off to grab your own plate.
Clearly, this is going to be a long year.
By the third day, you've learned little from the inhumane number of icebreakers and various introductory speeches. You've met few people of any interest, save for a couple a few doors down the hall from you.
Rose is Dave's cousin. Her skin is tanner, though still pale, and her hair is a much darker blonde. She has a fuller build than Dave, and is more comparable to you in height and intellect. She sympathizes with your situation, and has offered to discipline Dave whenever he's being a piece of shit. You have a feeling this will be an offer you take her up on more than a few times this year.
Kanaya is Rose's girlfriend. She's about as tall as Dave, and she's slender. Her skin is a flawless dark brown, and she keeps her black hair perfectly styled. You've had a few discussions with her about the nature of the campus, and about how to avoid Dave. Apparently, she's not exactly fond of him, either. She's confided that she believes he's a bit pompous, and that his personality isn't a good match with hers.
Of course, you can't spend all your time with Rose and Kanaya. while you'd find that preferable to staying in your own room, you do have to sleep in your dorm. Every night, when you return, you find Dave sipping a fresh cup of coffee, and tonight is no different. It's something which puzzles you, and you're certain he hasn't left the room. He sticks out like a thumb with a weeping blister. You would have seen him leave, and you would have heard him leave. And, tonight, you finally ask him, "Where the fuck do you keep getting that coffee?"
"From my fridge," he shrugs. He opens his fridge, revealing a canister of ground coffee beans. It's a cheap, generic brand, and you're not entirely sure how he could possibly palate such a thing. Nonetheless, you don't ask. You let him continue speaking. "Don't worry about it."
You nod. Honestly, you wouldn't worry about it if it was something as minor as a cup of tea. That can be easily heated in the microwave. You'd see the teabags in the trash. Instead, you keep seeing nothing but pure coffee grounds. They're tossed in the trash in loose clumps, but you've yet to see any evidence of a filter. While you know of a few people who drink their coffee with the grounds in it, Dave doesn't seem to be one of those people. Beyond that, his coffee isn't black. You've noticed him mixing in milk and sugar, yet you never see any evidence of grounds in his cup. It's a perplexing mystery, and it's one you resolve to solve before the year is over.