A/N- so this is the story by the (almost) same title, only this is the extended version, rather than the one shot. I'll probably delete the original after I finish this, unless people ask me not to. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Gamzee Makara was a bit of an oddball. He liked to wear face paint, which made him look like a clown, and was a bit unsettled if he didn't have the familiar weight on his skin. He drank Faygo, though was saddened by the dwindling number of readily available flavors the local stores carried. He had just moved into a small town, and was a bit of a loaner. Not by choice, either; but simply because he'd yet to be introduced to anyone, and they tended to stay away from weirdoes in clown make-up. And so instead he went to the abandoned meadow and simply stared at the sky, watching the clouds rolled by as he lay on his back trying to focus on the future, and getting no where with it.

This is where he met arguably the most important person in his life: Tavros Nitram. The wind was blowing light summer breeze over the green, thick grass, when he heard the protesting voice of a young man. He sat up, and looked over to find three linebacker-sized boys rolling around in the wheelchair that obviously belonged to the boy they were currently tormenting. He was a boy small of stature, with a mohawk of dark brown hair, and pouting brown eyes. His skin looked Hispanic in tone, and he was lying with no legs on the floor, as the three jerks laughed and called him any name one could think of.

Gamzee hated people being mean to others, especially those who couldn't protect themselves. He only wanted to see people happy, it's why he wore the make-up, because clowns by definition made things cheery. He stood and walked toward the group.

Tavros Nitram was a bit of an outcast. He had never really had any friends, only his elder sister, Terezi, who had changed her last name to their mother's maiden of Pyrope after their father had walked out on them when she was eighteen, leaving her to raise him all alone since their mother had died in a car wreck. The same one that had left Tavros paralyzed from his mid-thighs down. His sister was blind, but claimed to smell colors, and seemed to be able to, considering she often made comments one would need the gift of vision to know about. She worked at the local mental hospital, in the trauma area. In fact, nearly everyone in this town did, since it had started up as a place for the doctors to live. The nut house had been what made this town more than an empty field.

This afternoon after school was out, before he could wheel himself home, he was interrupted by three boys: Tom, Chuck, and George, three boys who seemed to think that tormenting Tavros was the great American pastime, and did so at every opportunity. They had taken him to the empty field right outside of town, but outside enough that no one would be there, or hear anything done there, and kicked him out of his chair. They were rolling around in it, and likely messing up the very delicate adjustments made so that it fit him right, while he sat on the floor, trying to look as strong as a cripple could.

He heard the soft crunching of feet walking on fresh grass behind him, and turned to see something much scarier than the idiots in front of him: a tall, lanky boy with shaggy black hair, and pale skin. At least his arms were pale; he couldn't see his face through the heavy, Halloween style clown make-up covering it. Tavros was terrified of clowns. He had watched the movie "It" When he was a child, and it had wrecked his shit. Now there was a scary looking clown walking toward him, with a dazed expression. He nearly wet himself, until the boy leaned down and smiled at him. A smile full of care, without the least bit of malice.

"Are you all up and motherfuckin okay, bro?" He asked, tilting his head in question, his violet eyes like that of an infant. They were blank, but full of good intention.

"I suppose. They'll get tired of it eventually, so it's fine." Tavros said, smiling nervously.

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure shit like that shouldn't be treated like that. And you probably wanna get home, motherfucker. I'll go get it for you. Just chill here, and slam a Faygo." Gamzee said, handing him the bottle he had brought with him, but never actually opened. Of course, Tavros had a stomach that was to sensitive for carbonated beverages, but he was more focused on the complete stranger sticking up for him. The complete stranger that he normally would have crossed the street to avoid crossing paths with, and told his sister about, to call the cops under any normal circumstances.

He started biting his fingernails in a nervous habit, resulting in him quickly running out of fingernail, and gnawing on his lip instead, working the red flesh between his teeth in a steady rhythm of anxiety.

"I really motherfuckin suggest you all up and give my bro his wicked wheelchair back." Gamzee said, his tone much darker than when he had spoken to Tavros.

"And are you gonna make us, you fuckin weirdo?" The largest boy asked, his short cropped blonde hair making him look more military-esk than his conduct showed.

"Actually, I motherfuckin am. I hate people who bully others, and I'm not gonna sit by and watch while you pick on a guy who can't walk, because you're too scared to fight anyone whose fully functional." Gamzee growled, cracking his neck to either side.

"You do realize there's three of us and one of you? Are you slow or something?" he asked.

"Yo, Tom; you think maybe this guy isn't the kind to fuck with? He looks like he's off his rocker, if you know what I'm sayin'" another boy, slightly smaller, but apparently owning the single brain cell they all shared. His brown hair was long, and held in a ponytail at the base of his neck.

Gamzee stood silently, as they turned to talk it out with each other. When Tom turned around, he simply grabbed the chair and wheeled it over to Tavros, helping into it before the others even noticed.

"Uhh… thanks, I guess. My name is Tavros." The cripple said, offering his hand and a nervous smile.

"Gamzee Makara. Nice to meet you, motherfucker." He took the hand, shaking it enthusiastically. Then heard the three boys walking up to him, and frowned at the fear in Tavros' eyes.

"I wasn't done with that, asshole." Tom said, and when Gamzee turned around, he saw the other boy with a knife.

"Please, don't! You can have the chair!" Tavros said, desperately, not wanting this kind stranger to get stabbed for him. His heart was beating fast, and his mind wasn't computing what was happening fast enough.

"No. They can't." Gamzee said, clenching his fists, and making knuckles crack as well.

"It's my chair!"

"But I just all up and got it back for you. It would be motherfuckin pointless to let them take it again." The tone was different than just a moment ago. It was darker. Not just angry, but homicidal. The kind of voice that one expected a serial killer to have; one that sent chills down your spine and the hair up your neck.

"So you wanna fight for the kid, when you just learned his name?" the pony-tail kid said, the other, an African American boy who seemed to want no part of it once the knife was pulled.

"That's your problem. You think that everything revolves around you. No one deserves to be treated like this. No one deserves to have everyone laugh at them, and hurt them because they can't get over the fact that they themselves are ignorant fucks. And that's why I'm gonna make sure none of you ever do it again. You've made me mad, motherfuckers." His smile was that of a mad man, and his eyes were void of intelligence, but wide open, shining with insanity. Tavros scooted himself away, scared all over again of the stranger named Gamzee.

"GAMZEE MAKARA!" A voice rang out, and Gamzee looked up. There was a short, but angry looking man in his late twenties walking toward the scene. " GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CALL THE COPS, AND CONSIDER YOURSELVES LUCKY."

"Who the hell are you?"

"The person who's going to call the police if you don't get out of here now." The adult said, his voice turning to a more normal tone now that he was up close. It was quite soothing when it wasn't shouting.

"K-Karkat? What are you doing here?" Gamzee snapped out of his momentary lapse in sanity as soon as the pale elder grabbed him roughly by the ear. Tavros flinched, wondering if they were brothers or something.

"We'll talk about this at home. Come on, kid, we'll make sure you get back alright." Karkat said, motioning for Tavros to follow him, before Gamzee finally escaped his grip and started pushing the chair. He was confused, but was frankly too scared of the both of them to ask questions.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, bro. I just got a little angry back there. I hate people like them." Gamzee said, and Tavros wanted to shout "A little?" but didn't do so.

"And trust me, he'll be getting it when he gets home. I've got the longest fucking lecture planned out for this one." Karkat said, walking in front of both of them, his arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed to the point where his ability to get around was almost as miraculous as Tavros' blind sister.

"Well, I'm sure he was just trying to scare them, so there wouldn't be a real confrontation. He was helping me, and I'd feel terrible if he got into trouble on my account." Tavros said, making himself as small as he could in his chair, leaning forward and craning his head down.

"Don't worry, Tavbro. Karkat's lectures aren't that bad." Gamzee assured him, a happy smile once again planted on his face.

They walked back to town with a chorus of Karat's yelling, Gamzee's laughing and Tavros' confusion. Tavros had no idea what was going on, only that he seemed to have made a new friend, who would be starting sophomore classes with him in a few days. He thought that Gamzee looked older than sixteen, and Karkat explained that he had fallen back in middle school, and had to repeat two grades; or rather, the same grade twice.

"What has you home so late, Tav? Did you finally get laid?" Terezi asked as the boy rolled into their small home.

"No, Sis. Just uhh… some guys messing with me. It's fine." He said, just wanting to go to his room and think. It was something he was in desperate need of.

"Then why do you smell like you're in love?" She asked, handing him a plate with his favorite food on it: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Because you can't actually smell something like that. But, uh, thanks for the food." He mumbled, placing the plate in his lap, and storming off to his room as best he could with his quiet demeanor and unmoving legs.

Terezi smiled with knowing. She most certainly could smell love. She had smelled it on herself once. Love and heartbreak were unfortunately familiar.

A/N- so the next chapter is just going to be flashbacks, but very plot important ones, so I hope you continue reading and enjoy!