A/N: Hey guys, important important thing i have to state. I do writing commissions. If you're interested, send me an ask on my personal tumblr ( ranuncudahlia ), or check out the link for the price page on my profile! I need this money for various reasons, mostly for Christmas presents for my friends, as well as to buy me food and, if I get enough, a chest binder. I'd really appreciate it if you'd guys would think about it, or at least tell your friends. (It's all fairly cheap, too. And hey, you can even do gifts for friends for Christmas of their OTP or somefin!)

Written while roleplaying Dirk with a Roxy on trollplay. She was so fucking adorable like oh my god. (If you ever role-played with a Dirk that agreed with you that he is in fact a mutant vampire and was writing "friendfiction" while watching the Notebook, that was me hi I love you, you were very kawaii)

Anyway, the warnings are all the same as they were in the previous chapter, same plot notes, etc. etc.

10 ANGR ISSS (Part Two)

[+]

The first Tuesday was a horrible day for Dirk. He had mostly bullshitted his way through Monday, but now that the first day of counseling had arrived, he felt helpless once more. No amount of clever wit was able to speed up time to get the damn thing over with, and he hated himself for that.

It didn't help that around every turn, his friends were heckling him from every angle. First hour was the easiest to deal with, a useless class period wasted sitting on the bleachers in Physical Education. For the most part he tinkered around with AR, hoping to at least prevent any more blue screens.

As second period came around, however, Dirk couldn't unravel the knot in his stomach, and while it had been a very long time since he last felt so, he felt like ditching. He felt foolish for wanting to pussy out like that; it wasn't a particularly tough class, after all. It was only a general art education class taken to fill a necessary elective in. However, he soon realized what the problem was as he stood in the doorway, bag dangling from one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. His eyes landed on the two-person desk he was assigned, skimmed over its smooth black surface, and met a bedhead of tawny red, leading to olive skin, a black t-shirt, bright red suspenders, and arms crossed with fingers curled in an ever-present clawing gesture.

Caliborn had his feet kicked up on the table, his chair tilting back at an incredibly precarious angle. He seemed to be having another one of his internal dialogs, if the sneer on his face and subtle movement of his lips was anything to go by. With a sigh, Dirk crossed the room and sat down next to him.

For the first thirty seconds or so, Caliborn seemed to not notice as his eyes remained glued on the teacher, as if daring them to come and speak with him while he was in such a mood. However, just as the bell rang to signal the start of class and he moved to dig a pencil and some paper out of his bag, Caliborn's bright red eyes met Dirk's.

"Well if it isn't Dirk Strider. I assumed you had finally learned that you cannot one-up me, who is so much more superior to you. Especially with how you weren't man enough to show your face in class yesterday."

Dirk sighed and pulled out some paper and pencils as well. He supposed Caliborn could pass as Carmine's much more tan...relative. They had the same hair, and kind of the same eyes if you pretended to not notice Caliborns feminine eyelashes. However, that's as far as it went. Caliborn and his twin sister Calliope had the androgynous thing going on: through what they wore, their voices, and which gender bubble they circled in on tests, it was generally asserted that Caliborn was male and Calliope was female. However, they both could easily pass as the other. Calliope's red curls were cut short, the same length as her brother, which would be considered long for a boy. They both had ridiculous eyelashes, a strong jaw, and a lean but built physique. On the days where the school required they wear class colors (for pep rallies, homecoming, and so forth), the two were nearly identical, the only noticeable difference being eye color.

Of course, there was never any need for someone to figure out which was which. The two were never in the same room with each other and made sure they had entirely different schedules. If they ever crossed paths, it certainly wasn't at school.

"I didn't surrender or any bullshit like that. My older brother made me talk to the school counselor."

Even Caliborn wrinkled his nose at that, before slyly glancing at Dirk out of the corner of his eye. "I bet you had to go because of how ridiculously inferior you are to your peers."

"What ever reasons I had for goi-"

"None of this habbadashary! I know what's true. I know everything."

Dirk rolled his eyes and sketched out a bit, the paper swiftly forming a vague collection of lines that barely passed off as makeshift blueprints for AR. "Whatever you say, man."

Naturally, Caliborn took that as his cue to set off on yet another monolog, his hands moving across his paper as if he weren't looking (which of course he wasn't) while he spoke about yet another one of his games with his sister involving 'complicated rules only "we" understand.' Dirk managed to block out most of it, although none of it was anything new anyway. Several times, Caliborn slapped one of his papers on top of Dirk's, an illegible pile of multi-colored scribbles filling the page. Most of the time Caliborn tried to convince Dirk that clearly Caliborn was the best artist of the two, but it was hard to take him seriously when the closest he had to a self portrait was a few tangled red and green lines.

More than once Caliborn tried to drive his pencil through Dirk's hand. And punch his face. And pull his hair.

While none of this was out of the ordinary for Caliborn, and he had heard far more violent tales of the kind of things Calamity threatened and tried on others, Dirk still wanted class to end early.

[+]

Third and fourth period were thankfully quick, his mind focused on English and Calculus. However, this proved both a blessing and a curse, as lunch quickly rolled around.

As per usual, Dirk grabbed a lunch line burger and paid the two bucks for it, then ate it as he walked to the library. Someone somewhere would probably tell him eating it so quickly while walking was bad for his health, but Dirk didn't care. He had spent years as a kid watching Dave bustle out the door, sandwich in hand as he rushed off to some meeting or interview, and a habit built from so many years of example and experience was hard to break. He tossed the wrapper into the trash can placed by the door and wiped crumbs off his face before hesitantly stepping in, glancing around the library as the doors shut behind him.

Two more steps, slightly more confident, and then he found a sobbing blonde wrapped around his torso.

"Diiiiirkkkk you will nog belieb what happenened!" Roxy moaned dramatically, acting as deadweight when Dirk tried to take a step toward the computers. Nevertheless, he continued to drag her along as her arms slid to grip his waist from behind, her face buried into his shirt, just mere inches above his butt.

"Roxy," he asked, exasperated as he received a sympathetic look from the librarian. "Let go."

Roxy made a sound that was most definitely not an answer.

"Roxy," he murmured warningly. She sighed and let go of his waist, standing up properly as she wrapped her arms around his right arm.

She sniffled as he glanced down at her knees, which as he expected were red from carpet burn. "My favorif fanficton was delebed by the author." He wasn't sure if she had somehow managed to sneak beer into school (again), or if she was only slurring from her crying.

He tutted. "What a shame." Dirk attempted to walk towards the computers, but slowly and surely Roxy began to become deadweight again, dragging her feet and gripping his arm much more tightly.

She nodded and didn't speak until they were halfway to the computer area. Really, they would've been there already, but with each step Roxy became increasingly heavy, latched onto Dirk's arm and holding him back. "It wad the best Warriors fanviction I'b ever seen." Dirk simply grunted and continued to try to lug a fully developed fifteen-year-old girl across the room with one arm.

"Roxy!" A voice called, and Dirk glanced up at them the same moment Roxy let go of his arm, his entire weight suddenly thrown off balance. He stumbled a little as she bounded over, a little cheerily if Dirk might add, to sit in the seat next to the girl who had spoken. With one glance he recognized Calliope, her hands occupied with her tablet. Roxy threw her arms around Calliope, and lay her head on the slightly taller girl's shoulder. Calliope smiled apologetically at Dirk before mumbling soothingly to Roxy, something about fanart and original characters. From the pink bedazzled cell phone laying next to the keyboard and the cat themed backpack laying on the floor, Dirk guessed that this is where Roxy had been before she decided to sneak across the room and launch herself at him.

Dirk sighed and walked past them, sitting down instead at a different table, where Rufus and Holden sat immersed in a game of Yugioh. The usual group sat there, Dahlia boredly sitting there next to Miranda, Dahlia's chin in her hands as she watched. Miranda kept leaning forward and trying to give the two boys tips, while they both just ignored her. The only one missing was Arin, but with how immersed Miranda seemed to be in their game, Dirk didn't bother asking, and instead sat in his usual spot away from the girls and the game. He hastily got AR into his hands and began tinkering away, cashing in on his free time.

However, he only got as far as re-re-re-re-re-rechecking the circuitry for what felt like the 100th time, before thick arms slunk around his neck, almost in a chokehold, but not quite. "Kon'nichiwa, biggu otoko," Dahlia practically hissed in his ear. He rolled his eyes, setting down AR and sighing. He knew just enough basic Japanese from his anime and various trips to google translate to know what she was saying.

"I see you haven't yet given up on talking in what butchered Japanese you learn from your mother."

She scoffed and barely let go of him, letting her hands trail across his shoulders and neck as she moved to sit in the seat next to him. Everyone had already acquired the habit of not looking anywhere near her legs, as she generally sat with them spread. Added to her penchant of wearing "school girl" skirts, and you were just asking for trouble from her. But that was Dahlia, it seemed. She had a habit of messing with people's hormones for the fun of it.

"Nanishiteru?" she asked, gesturing to the parts lying in front of him, her chin in her hands once more, her fingertips slowly drumming across her lips. It probably drove some boys crazy, but it seemed more to Dirk that she was simply fighting off the craving for a cigarette. Nevertheless, unintentionally he crossed his arms across his chest in a subconscious gesture of 'I'm not buying what you're selling.'

"Just a personal project," he said stiffly. While he considered Dahlia a "friend," he didn't bother telling many about AR. It was too tedious to explain to so many. She narrowed her eyes at him, her boredom subtly shifting to curiosity.

"Sore wa himitsudesu ka?" she mumbled, her eyes moving to study the pieces carefully. He didn't understand what she had said, and maybe especially because he didn't understand, he swept AR forward back into his bag, careful not to break anything as he did so."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean, Dahlia."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, gesturing towards him as she spoke. "Is it secret?"

He felt it in the pit of his stomach. Dirk felt the tight knot begin to form, the tightness in his chest that felt as if his heart had stopped beating, instead inflating and filling every gap in his thoracic cavity, his mind going blank and empty with passionate anger. He couldn't place what had caused it, what made his entire self-control shatter into pieces, but he was angry. Without thinking, he stood up in frenzied anger, jostling the table slightly and knocking his chair over, Dahlia flinching and nearly falling out of her chair as she gasped at his sudden violence. Rufus and Holden looked up from their game in surprise, while Miranda stared at him with a smirk on her face. He slung his bag over his shoulder, barely thinking to be careful before heading in a bee line for the nearest door.

He could feel practically the entire library's eyes on him, and yet that only made him more angry. Dirk didn't know why, but he felt like they were judging him. He felt that the entire world knew he was broken, and they were only going to continue to crack vicious, snide quips about him.

He'd rather shoot himself than let that actually happen.

As he stormed through the halls, only partially registering where he was going, he slowly began to cool down. His furious speed-walking quieted to a slouched, steady pace, before finally he just collapsed against some lockers, the hallway otherwise abandoned. He slowly slid down until his legs were sprawled in front of him and his back was at an awkward angle that would hurt if he didn't move soon.

And that was when Dirk decided he didn't care.

He didn't care anymore that he was broken. He didn't care he couldn't fix himself nor AR, or that his cracks were spider-webbing towards his relationships.

He sat there, and simply wallowed in that feeling, because he was uncertain he'd be able to feel anything else if he tried