Chapter Text
"This is the place?"
A nondescript gray car pulled up in front of the dusty old farmhouse with an air of finality.
"Yup. What do you think of it, Karkat?"
The shutters creaked in the wind that stirred acres of neglected, knee-high grass.
"It looks...lonely."
And so did the grieving father and son, because they were. Loneliness hung between them; it surrounded them like a cold, heavy fog.
Karkat clung tightly to the small plastic tank on his lap, staring intently at the hermit crab that was dozing inside. "I miss Mom," he whispered softly to the little crustacean.
His father smiled sadly, pretending not to have overheard. He swung open the driver's side door and stepped out onto the loose, sandy dirt, then looked back over his shoulder at his son. "You coming, Karkat?"
Karkat didn't look up. He kept his red eyes firmly on the hermit crab. "Can I bring Ceegie in with me?"
Mr. Vantas smiled for what felt like the first time in months. "Of course. This'll be his new home too, after all. I figured you brought him in the car today because you wanted to show him around our new house."
Karkat nodded without saying anything. He carefully picked up Ceegie's terrarium with one arm and opened his door with the other. A sudden gust of wind blew straight into his face, and he shivered.
"It's a good thing it's so cloudy today," his dad remarked, trying to sound cheerful and not quite succeeding, "because I forgot to bring your sunscreen."
Karkat closed the passenger door with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, and the crappy little sedan rattled slightly. "Jesus Christ, Dad." He rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to get skin cancer and die? Seriously, though, why don't you keep a bottle in the glove compartment or something?"
Mr. Vantas sighed. "Sorry, little crab. C'mon, you'll be fine."
The porch creaked so loudly under their feet that it startled Karkat slightly. When the key got stuck in the lock for a moment, the rusty tumblers refusing to yield, he started to feel apprehensive for reasons he couldn't quite identify. But then the door swung open with a long soft squeak, and the cool, dusty dimness inside was sweet relief to his sun-sensitive eyes.
The old farmhouse had two floors and an attic. There were five rooms downstairs and four upstairs. Not a single one of them was a bathroom.
"It's a real fixer-upper," Mr. Vantas said. He had the air of someone eager for a new challenge, but secretly he was just very tired.
"No shit," Karkat replied, as he fished a pencil stub out of his jacket pocket, set it down on the kitchen's checkered linoleum, and watched it roll away.