SUMMARY: "Karkat is someone hiding from memories of past problems and traumas, and finds solace in the unlikeliest of souls and inspiration in the meekest of bodies. The lines between friendship and something more blur as lines between hate and fear collide. Through all of these lines and barriers, walls and unreachable heights, Karkat finds more than a new life."

A/N: I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I'm not extremely far in Homestuck, I'm only into the Troll Acts, but I'm already shipping. God, I don't even know who I ship Karkat with. This ship is blamed on LogicalDreamer and her SolKat fic Primary Colors, which has been sadly discontinued. It will be missed.

As for this story, I have no idea where I'm going with it. This is all from Karkat's perspective at this point, in present-first-person. Yes, that's a thing. The Hunger Games uses this perspective.

Anyway, I haven't really thought out this plot, and its a little bit rushed because I haven't written anything in a while, and its suuper great to be writing again. If you find mistakes, such as tense misplacement's or confusing words/sentences, let me know! I want to improve! This is super rushed and is rather bad, so please don't base all my writing on this ^-^

Karkat is a little OOC (out of character) because he's super reserved for the most part, but don't worry though, 'cause he'll be back to swearing like a sailor soon enough XD I also have an OC in here named Nanda. Don't ask where I got that name. It was four in the morning.

Oh, and his hair is currently blue. Don't judge. Blue hair is awesome.

"Moria" means incident or occurrence.

Blue hair is always going to get you some negative attention, but I guess a nose piercing is a little overboard. Nanda tells me its fine, and that the gold stud looks good, but sometimes I wonder if she's just humoring me.

I stare up at the ceiling of my room, hands behind my head, bored out of my mind. I hear a car pull in the driveway, followed by the slamming of a door and the jangling of a key in a lock.

I sigh and shift my gaze to the large window dominating the wall opposite my door. My room is rather large, as it was originally supposed to be a den on the second floor of the house I share with Nanda.

Under the window is my collection of games and DVD's, numbering somewhere in the thousands. On the adjacent wall is my TV stacked precariously on top of my XBox and PS3. To my right, at the foot of my bed, is where my computer sits along with several black notebooks.

I hear Nanda walk into the kitchen, marked by the creaky door, and turn on the radio. Pink Floyd, I think idly to myself, running my fingers through my newly dyed hair. Its now a dark, icy blue rather than its normal lank black color. What possessed me to choose blue, out of all the other colors, I still have no idea.

I sigh again, rolling over onto my stomach.

"Kat!" Nanda yells up at me. "Come help me with the groceries!" I curse softly and get slowly to my feet. Coming out to stand at the top of the stairs, I can see all of the bags Nanda must have brought in from the car.

I pause with my hand resting on the pine railing, inhaling the smell of new carpet. We've only been in the house for two weeks, almost since the "incident"; cardboard boxes litter the house, making my klutzy nature more like a disorder.

Nands comes to stand at the bottom banister, hand on her jutting hipbone. "Hey there, Sunshine. I'm already in the kitchen so hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah." I grumble as she spins around to go back into the kitchen, fuchsia hair whipping out behind her.

I stomp down the stairs, grabbing two bags full of sushi ingredients as I go. So demanding, that woman. Nanda is already on the floor in front of the cupboard under the sink, stuffing sponges and vinegar next to the pipes.

She looks up at me and smiles, but I don't smile back. Her eyes soften, and I must have looked like a lost puppy or something, standing in the middle of the kitchen, because she makes a quiet "aww" sound in her throat.

I huff a little embarrassedly. "Where do you want these?"

"In the fridge. Move the milk to the door." I nod and set the bags in front of the stainless steel refrigerator. Since we moved in, we've only been out to eat, so our house has been torturously out of food for two weeks. "Oh, and when you're done, the bags on the first step are frozens, so take them downstairs to the big freezer."

"Right." I mumble, sticking a bottle of soy sauce next to the milk. The bags of raw fish and sheets of seaweed are the first editions to the icebox, making my mouth water for tonight's dinner. Cheap Chinese Food and McDonald's were getting tiring. I even kind of miss my mom's god-awful cooking sometimes. It can hardly be called edible, but it reminds me of what life used to be like before last year's moria, and the anniversary of said moria.

"Kat, the frozens." I jerk and realize I had been spacing out.

"Uh, right. Sorry." I grab the bags of ice cream and hamburger patties and walk down the hallway. I open the door under the stairs, but then stop before descending into the basement.

The scent of cleaners and dust waft up to me, causing my limbs to stiffen involuntarily; this scent is nauseatingly familiar.

You'd think this wouldn't surprise me, that this basement smells exactly like the one at my mom's house, but I haven't been into the basement yet. In fact, I've been avoiding it.

My hand unconsciously flits to my left forearm to finger the gauze pad that doesn't quite hide the large, sickly pinks scar standing out out from my pale skin.

Something rubs against my legs, jerking me from my thoughts. Gamzee purs temptingly at my feet, seeming to smile up at me with his cream clown-face markings. The rest of his fur is purplish gray, and its quite a pretty color, but his saggy gold eyes make him look stoned.

I smile a little and crouch down to scratch his velvety ears. "Hey, buddy." Gamzee cocks his whiskered head towards the basement, pausing his purring to growl offhandedly. I let a small giggle escape my lips as he starts licking my fingertips. "Yeah, I don't like it either."

"Kat?" I look up to find that Nanda is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching me with her jade-colored gaze.

Before the incident, I had been rather good at sensing when people were near, but, like my life, those senses had all but disappeared; I hadn't even heard her walk in.

Nanda's eyes are concerned, and I wonder if she had heard my little conversation with the fluffy goofball sitting at my feet.

"You ok, kid?" I chew my tongue, trying not to make eye-contact. Mom hadn't told Nanda much of what happened last year, or this year for that matter, and I know she's miffed about it, but Nanda never really asked either. I'm glad for this, but I can't deny that I hate these "are you ok, kid?" talks. "Kat?"

"I'm fine." I try to lie, but Nanda sees through that in a second. She crosses her arms and shakes her head.

"Kat, I know mom said you don't have to tell me anything, but I can't help you if we can't talk."

"We talk." I mumble half heartedly. Nanda sighs exasperatedly in response.

"Fine, but you can't keep going on like this." I don't respond and continue to scratch Gamzee's ears. "Kat, if you don't want to move back in with mom," I wince. "then you've got to open up." Leave it to Nanda to tell when I'm scared shitless. Don't ask why. I'm not going to tell you.

Gamzee rubs his head into my leg as Nanda comes over to sit next to me; I turn away a little. Gamzee jumps onto my bent knees, settling close to my chest so his furry head tickles my neck and chin.

"Kat, whatever happened a year ago, you need to get over it. You were doing completely fine until last month."

"This isn't about what happened a year ago." I murmur back, still refusing to look at her.

"Then something happened last month, and if we're going to get anywhere, you need to tell me." Ha! As if she'd even want to know.

The smell of the basement finally gets to my head, and I stand abruptly, dropping Gamzee in the process. The goof just rolls over and trots away. "Kat?"

"I'm going to go take a shower." I leave before she can respond and take the stairs three at a time.

"But what about the frozens?"

"Do it yourself!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

Dinner is silent save for the clicking of chopsticks and Gamzee's quiet purring under the table.

I take a bite of California roll and ignore Nanda's constant glances. We haven't spoken a word to each other; Nanda knows better than to provoke me.

"Your hair's bluer." Well, so much for that thought.

"Its just wet." I retort, ending her pry for conversation. She sighs and stabs a tempura carrot rather forcefully.

"You start school in a week. Do you have everything you need?" I nod.

"Yeah."

"Pencils? Paper?"

"Everything's still in my backpack." Still in my backpack since the day I never made it to school, since the day my already fragile life crumbled like a sandcastle in a Tsunami.

"What about charcoal?" My chopsticks pause on their way to my mouth. I had forgot about that.

Nanda finally smiles again, bending over to grab her purse from the couch. She plops it on the coffee table where we're eating at and rummages through the front pockets.

I watch silently as she pulls out a box of willow vine charcoal and sets it next to my plate.

"Thanks." I mumble, tucking the box into my sweatshirt pocket before returning to my food.

"No problem. There's an art store right next to my job." Right. Her job.

"When are you starting that again?" Nanda chews an onigiri thoughtfully.

"The day after tomorrow. You'll be on your own on saturday. You're fine with that, right?" I huff.

"Of course. This isn't the first time I've stayed home alone." And I'm seventeen, almost eighteen to boot.

"I know, but I worry about you, Kat."

"Yeah, yeah." Nanda looks ready to pulverize the remaining onigiri.

I finish the rest of my dinner quickly, dumping my dishes into the sink. I don't return to the table, fearing a restart of our conversation.

"I'm going to bed." Nanda is still sitting in the living room. "But I might watch a movie first."

"Brush your teeth." Is all she responds. I must have really pissed her off or something, because she doesn't even look up when I leave the room to go back upstairs.

So touchy.

My alarm clock says its four in the morning, but I hardly notice. I'm on my fourth romcom of the evening, and I'm not about to stop.

Actually, I can't name a single movie I've watched tonight; I haven't really been paying attention. Instead, I'm leaning against my bed, surrounded by a dozen pillows and blankets, a huge sketch book propped against my raised knee.

By now, my fingers are black and the floor around me is littered with tiny snubs of charcoal sticks, and even a few make-up sponges. I have my blending pencil clamped in my teeth and another dwindling piece of charcoal tucked in between my fingers.

Ok, I know what you're thinking. A romcom-watching artist? Nerd! But I'm not a nerd. Maybe I would be, but that would be under different circumstances, with a different past.

"Kat?" I look up. Nanda has her head poked through my cracked door. Her hair is mussed and she's in her PJ's, but her tired eyes tell me she hasn't slept yet.

I take my blending pencil out of my mouth and set down my charcoal.

"You're still up, Nadna?" It's normal for me to be up late, but Nanda is usually an early sleeper.

Nanda smiles a little guiltily. "You mind if I come in?" I nod, reaching for the remote to pause the romcom still playing on my TV. I stop on John Cusack laying in the middle of an ice rink. I guess I had been watching Serendipity.

Nanda timidly comes into my room and stands awkwardly in the doorway. I'm really not keen on revisiting our argument, so I turn back to my current drawing: some random chick in a dress with a fish on it. Don't ever ask inspiration what it smokes.

"Um, Kat. I want to talk about earlier."

"Get on with it then." She sighs. She seems to be doing that a lot lately.

"I just want to apologize." My charcoal bit stills over the tail of the fish. "I really shouldn't have pushed you like that. I know it's something that really bothers you, so I'll try to be more sensitive about it."

"Has this been keeping you up?" I don't see her expression, but I can hear her shifting her weight from foot to foot a little nervously.

"Mm, a bit. You know I can't stand leaving things unsaid." It's rather troubling trying to draw with your sister standing over you.

"If that's all, you can go to sleep now."

"Are you trying to dismiss me?"

"A little bit." I glance over to see her smiling.

"Fine, I'll get out of your hair. Go to bed soon, though, okay? It's late."

"Right." She quietly leaves, closing the door with a soft snap. I don't really want to turn on the TV again, but it's weird to be sitting alone in the quiet.

As I reach for the remote, I hear a car backfire somewhere close by. Normally I wouldn't give a fuck, but the sound was really close by, so I can't help getting up to look out my window.

It's dark down my street in both directions, save for the few street lamps still working. A couple houses down has their porch light on, illuminating an old green volvo parked in front. There's someone leaning into the hood of the volvo, and I can faintly hear swearing through my window pane.

I watch for a minute, before feeling like a creeper, but as I'm turning back away, the person straightens and turns as well, looking right at me.

Nearly jumping out of my skin, I shoot backwards and tumble to my carpeted floor so I'm no longer visible from the street. My heart beats ferociously against my chest. B-Blue... and red... eyes. How is that possible?

I shimmy along my wall until I'm right next to my window and peak around the corner. The person is still looking in my direction, a complicated expression on his face.

I realize with relief that what I previously believed to be his eyes are really just weird 3D shades, hiding whatever color his eyes actually may be.

He stares at my window for several more seconds, before revolving on his low-heeled boots to refocus his attention on his clearly malfunctioning car.

I don't know shit about cars, so its not like I can go out and help him, but its really weird for me to be watching him, so I do the only thing I can think of: discreetly close the curtains. His gaze had burned right through me. Had he known I was there?

I shake my head and sit back down with my notebook, but I just glim at it for a minute. Then I flip to a new page and get out a fresh stick of charcoal, placing it to the paper to start drawing the strangest pair of shades I've ever seen.

A/N: First: Onigiri are rice balls or triangles wrapped in seaweed. Tempura is a way of frying something, in this case, vegetables.

Two: Glim. It's a word. It means to gaze or stare.

Thank you for reading the first chapter! Please review. I really, really want to improve my writing, and you can help by telling me how bad it is! Honestly, if you hate it, tell me why, and I'll work to improve it!

And yes, Gamzee is a cat. A fluffy, long hair, purple cat. This is a headcannon I will never get rid of now. Thank you random ideas at three o'clock in the morning XD

I promise the story will get better! I feel like I'm losing a lot of readers in the first chapter, so just trust me in that it'll get better. Please just try to keep reading; it would mean so much to me! ^-^

Thank you again for reading!

~Webs