"What is this?" Kanaya asks. You hear a rattling sound from her direction.

You're pretty preoccupied with your studying, what with the midterms being two days away. So your eyes stay glued to the array of textbooks spread across your bed as you let out a noncommittal "Hm?"

"This." The rattling grows louder, and her voice gains a steel edge. Man, she sounds pissed. Then, the rattling becomes horrifyingly familiar, and you realize a moment too late that she's found your bottle of pain meds and you're totally fucked.

She's now standing between your two beds, shaking the orange bottle with one hand. You make a grab for them; she moves out of the way. Damn it.

"Just some pills, jeez," you groan, deciding it's best to keep the lie simple. You tap your left shoulder. "For this."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why is the bottle not labeled? Prescription drugs are always labeled."

Shit.

"So maybe they're not prescribed, per say," you hedge. This is ridiculous. "And what's it to you, anyway! They won't kill me!"

"Give it time." With a very casual flick of her wrist, she sends the pills sailing through the open window. You don't even hear them land.

"What the fuck!" You brace your hands against the sill and look down, to no avail. "Are you insane?"

"No, but clearly you are." She crosses her arms. "Do you know what those can do to you? Heart failure, difficulty breathing, hostility."

"Oh, I'm feeling hostile, alright," you spit, whirling on her. "God, you're like a cross between an infomercial and the mother of a troubled teen."

She takes a deep breath, like she wants to calm down before she continues. "I have every reason to be concerned."

"No, actually, you don't! You're just my roommate, in a couple of years we'll forget about each other and I'll probably never see you again―"

She has this really weird look on her face, so you break off and the two of you stand in loaded silence, until she turns and closes the bathroom door behind her, and you forget about your studying and leave the room entirely.

You tell yourself that's a totally normal thing that roommates do, having shout-matches and then walking out. It's easier. You don't really want to think about it, about anything, so you wrestle your way into the bushes outside the building and try to find the pills. No luck, as per usual. What a waste. You had to fork over a lot of cash for that bottle, since the local stoner-slash-dealer Gamzee is on a business scholarship for a reason. Stupid hustling asshole.

Two cigarettes later, you're calmer and less likely to punch a hole in the wall. Man, you are so fed up with Kanaya's bullshit. It's so frustrating. And it's alien, too, having someone that even cares a little bit about you, at least enough to worry. So maybe you're going about this wrong. In any case, she's getting on your last nerve and you don't know how much more you can take.

You can always apply for a roommate change, but the thought makes you sick to your stomach. That's bitchy even by your standards. There's pretty much nothing to do but go inside at this point. It's already dark out, you were too stupid to bring a jacket, and the early December air is absolutely freezing. You think it will snow in a few days.

Kanaya gives you a healthy serving of the silent treatment when you return, shivering violently in your t-shirt, teeth chattering. Crawling around in the dirt probably wasn't your smartest move. When the clacking of your molars becomes too loud for her to ignore, she sighs heavily and moves over to her desk. She looks pointedly from you to her now-vacant bed. A moment later, you realize: she is giving you permission.

This is a great day for mankind.

You have no idea what she does to make her sheets smell so good or why her bed is always warmer than yours, but you don't really care. You take advantage of the situation promptly. She rolls her eyes from her chair, which is fine with you, because her bed is way better than any other spot in the room. You imagine you'll stay put until she kicks you out.

It occurs to you that this might be her way of apologizing. If it is, you completely accept, even if she's going to bitch at you when she notices that you didn't take off your shoes before climbing into her bed. Oh well. You're not going anywhere any time soon. You don't even care about your studies anymore, or about eating, or showering. You're tired, as usual. Maybe it's about time you go to sleep.

Mm. Sleep.

/~|~\

"Please wake up."

You mumble some curse words in Kanaya's general direction. She shakes your shoulder lightly, but hell if you're budging. You will stay right here. This is where you'll stay, snug in her sheets, warm for once and rested and relaxed...

"Your sister is on the phone."

You go utterly still. That's the last thing you expected to hear. You sit up and hold out your hand, wordlessly demanding your cell phone. She seems confused as she gives you the device.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bathtub, gathering your thoughts before speaking. God, you don't want to do this. You don't even know how she got your number. You can always hang up, but she'll get a hold of you eventually. She only lives a few hours away. With a deep breath, you put the phone to your ear and say very flatly, "What do you want?"

"I'm glad to hear from you, too," Aranea says dryly.

"I'm waiting."

She sighs, like this is some huge fucking inconvenience to her. Yeah, right. Her life is picture-perfect. She's eight years your senior, already graduated from college with a degree in English Literature. Last you heard, she's the youngest English professor in the last who-knows-how-many years, teaching at some big-shot university you would never hope to get into.

And no, you don't hate her for being successful. You hate her because she fucking left you with your bitch of a mother. When Aranea got a scholarship to an all-girls boarding school in France, you never thought she would abandon you (six years old, at the time) in your hell-hole of a home. At least when she was around, it was bearable. She was probably the smartest person you knew and way smarter than your mother, and clever enough to keep your mom from remembering how to properly abuse her children. Though you hate to admit it, you needed Aranea.

Not anymore.

"I'm coming to town for an English workshop at your school," she explains. "I thought we could catch up."

You laugh, and you can practically hear her wincing. She hasn't seen you since you were a kid. Maybe she's built up some image of you as a mini-her, all upright and mannered and gentle. Nope. You're just a mega-bitch. Then again, it probably runs in the family.

"What's there to catch up on?" You make sure she can hear how hard your voice is. You would hate for her to think you aren't a bitter, angry person with enough emotional baggage to fill the cargo hull of a 747.

"Vriska, please. We haven't seen each other in-"

"Thirteen years, yeah. I know."

Silence.

Then, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Who's hurt?" You are. "Not me."

She tries again. "I couldn't say no, not to a full scholarship to a school like that. It wasn't because I didn't care about you-"

"Well, to a six-year-old, that's exactly how it came across. Whoops."

"I'm sorry."

You don't know why, but your eye is stinging like you might cry or something, which you will not allow. Even if you have to take off your glasses and press your fist into your eye and swallow three times before speaking. "Yeah, well, everyone's sorry. Doesn't mean shit and you know it."

She doesn't respond. You almost hang up, but stop when she says, "I'll be there tomorrow morning."

"Fuck you-"

The line goes dead, yet you keep up an impressive stream of swears. God, you hate her. Hate hate hate. If she shows up tomorrow you might just punch her, and you don't even care if she calls the cops, you'll sit in a jail cell overnight if you have to. You're on the verge of screaming out loud when there's a light knock on the door.

"Vriska?"

Ugh. "Leave me alone."

You would tack on a "please," but that might make her think you give a shit about her feelings at this point.

"Not until you tell me what she said."

"Fuck off."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me."

"Fine!" Your voice is way above normal speaking level, but hell if you care. "You want to know? My stupid bitch of a sister is coming back and I hate her guts and if I get really, really lucky, she'll get hit by a bus on the way here!"

Kanaya lapses into a stunned silence, and you guess it's a good thing there are no windows in this bathroom because you would likely throw yourself out of one given the opportunity.

"I imagine you don't want to talk about it," Kanaya says. It's the greatest thing you've heard all day. "I'm going out with Rose soon. But I'm not leaving until you promise not to do anything I wouldn't approve of."

"What do you approve of?"

"Sleep. And yes, you can sleep in my bed. Just this once."

Tempting. "Okay, jeez."

You sit on the rim of the tub while she gets ready, watching a spider scuttle across the floor until you hear her leave. You stand in front of the mirror and pull aside the strap of your tank top. One of your fingers runs along the place where the metal shoulder meets your skin, over the bolts and then down the length of the prosthetic, bumping along the miniscule screws in your fingers.

You drag the eye-patch out of the way. It's weird, because you can see your left eye in your reflection but you can't see out of it. You don't really need the eye-patch. There's nothing but a white-ish scar running from the top of your iris to the bottom. Considering the fact that you're completely blind in that eye, the visible damage is startlingly small.

That doesn't mean you don't hate the tiny scar more than you should.

Aranea is going to ask. She's going to want to know how this happened. She's not going to get an answer from you, but she's smart. She'll figure it out. She always does.

/~|~\

Your name is Aradia Megido, and you are simply the best of friends.

You rub Feferi's shoulder and hold the phone to your ear. It's ringing. Finally, Eridan's voice says, "Hello?"

"I am calling purely to give you a message," you inform him, in your most no-nonsense tone. "Because Feferi is too distraught to speak to you. However, you should be pleased to know she is not pregnant."

He literally drops the phone. You hear it hit the floor, and then his scramble to pick it up again. "Really? Cod, thank you, and tell her I'm sorry-"

You hang up.

"Thanks," Feferi says. She is sprawled on the floor, an expression of intense relief on her face. "I don't think I could have spoken to him."

"It's fine if you're angry with him."

"But that's the thing." She chews on her lip. "I'm not furious with him. I should be, but I'm not. What's wrong with me?"

"Sh, there's nothing wrong with you." Except maybe there is. You know you're angry enough with Eridan for the both of you, and it will take quite a bit of your will not to attack him on sight.

"Maybe you're right. I mean, it's not like this is all Eridan's fault. I was there too, you know."

True. You have honestly not thought about Feferi's consensual involvement in all of this, but the fact is they both made a mistake. Not that you would say that out loud. You decide instead to keep running your fingers through her hair. It's easier to put the blame on Eridan, anyway.

/~|~\

Your name is John Egbert and you're pretty much an idiot.

You fidget madly with your pen while you wait for English to start. Vriska is going to walk in any minute now, and you're freaking out. You totally blew it with her. After a few hours working together on a project, you really got to know her better, which is good. Kissing her was good, too. Slamming the door in her face probably wasn't good.

The door opens. You suck in a breath, then let it out when you see that it's just Equius. Then it's Jade and Rose. Every time the knob turns your heart stops, and when, at last, the class is starting, you realize Vriska isn't even coming today. You're safe for another day.

At the end of the incredibly long class, you catch up to Kanaya on her way out. "Hey, you're Vriska's roommate, right? Has she said anything, er, bad about me?"

She fixes you with a sharp look. "No. Should she have reason to?"

"No!" You are really floundering here. "No, it's just that when she came over the other day, I kissed her and I think I messed everything up and that's why she's not here-"

You see something flash over her face for a split second. Hurt? Surprise? You aren't sure.

"She hasn't said anything," she says, regaining her cool. "And she went out with her sister today. Goodbye."

"Bye." As she walks away, you try to figure out what you said to ruin that conversation, but you come up blank.

Ugh. Women.

I'M SO

FREAKING

SORRY

THIS UPDATE SHOULD HAVE COME SO MUCH SOONER AND I AM TERRIBLE

PLEASE THREATEN ME IN REVIEWS NEXT TIME THERE ARE 10+ DAYS BETWEEN CHAPTERS

SO

SORRY