Where they met was unexpected, but the fact that they met at all was really all that mattered.

Admittedly, Gamzee hadn't been in his best state - on the street, hanging under a bus shelter from the passing thunderstorm, smoking blunt, wearing the same clothes he'd been in for the past week and half, smelling like the bum he felt like. It was late, he knew that much. But in actuality it was early morning because his roommate, Karkat, kicked him out at about 3am for coming in late again, higher than a kite, after his repeated warnings not to.

So he forgot to texted his bro that he'd might be coming in late again. It was just hard, didn't Karbro understand that?

Gamzee flickered the dying joint out into the rain, irritation on his face because he could feel the faint pulse of soberness coming back. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and pressed his back against the wall, before sliding down on his ass--resting his aching feet--looking out into the rain blankly.

Because yeah, Karkat should understand of all people. He'd seen, witness Gamzee being broken down for years and being unable to do a damn thing about because he wouldn't allow Karbro to get involved. No matter how much he bled, or felt like breaking, Gamzee just couldn't let it go. Because it was something to be a near drug addict, it was a motherfucking 'nother to have an abusive boyfriend.

Feeling himself twitch - fucking recoil - at the thought, Gamzee shivered against his will, wrapping his arms loosely around himself in a comfort, any comfort. 

Getting over his old lover, if Gamzee can even motherfucking call him that, was the wake up call Gamzee needed in his life. He felt the ache run deep in his bones, feeling older than he had any right to be, the choices he made catching up to him. But what the hell was he suppose to do though? Breaking up didn't stop him from craving weed, didn't stop him from drinking binges, or getting violent without reason.

He was fucked up. Gamzee knew he was nothing but damaged goods and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd just wish Karkat couldn't see him spiral down to this point...

Looking out into the steady thumping of the rain calm blood pressure enough, as he leaned his head back to hit the concrete to look up to the deary sky. It was bright above the dim, gray clouds and the streets were still with the occasional car driving by. Gamzee felt his eyes lids closing on him, the wave of fatigue hitting him like brick. Resting his eyes for a bit won't hurt anybody...

"You're going to get sick, like that."

His eyes shot open at the unexpected voice, turning his head sharply to come face to face with a boy? He wasn't old enough to be called a man yet, but boy didn't quite suit him either as he looked at Gamzee with unapologetic eyes, steady and unafraid. How long did he closed his eyes for? Because he sure as hell would've noticed a guy in a wheelchair coming up beside him.

Shit, what the hell was he suppose to say. He blinked slowly, the crust in his eyes distracting as he went to rub his cheek, feeling the scratchy stubble growing in. "Well, I guess motherfucker. Not like it matters."

"Of course it matters. Getting sick on the street is the, last thing you, or anyone needs." 

The kid was strange, real strange but in a nice way. Other than his wicked wheels he was rolling on, and the pauses in his speech, he seemed like a regular old guy who really shouldn't bother with a shithead like Gamzee but he did and that's what mattered. The clownish man felt a tired grinned stretch over his hollow cheeks. "Didn't know people could still give a fuck for people like me."

"...And what exactly, are people like you?" The boy muttered, still looking at him though this time his eyes downcast'd. Now, Gamzee didn't like that, because for some reason, it didn't feel like pity. It felt like the little motherfucker was hurting because of him and Gamzee would be damn if another person got hurt because he was a fuck up.

"Nothing special, man. I don't need your sympathy, bro. Don't deserve it from a wicked motherfucker like you."

"Why not?" Damn those eyes were sharp, big and brown, but they were harden in some sorta resolve that Gamzee couldn't understand.

He blinked slowly, taken off guard by the question. "You don't know me bro, and I feels kinda uncomfortable maybe that you, well damn, care so much."

The boy smiled wanly, arms resting in his lap as he looked away. "Ss-Sorry. I've been told, a lot, that I, get too personal at times. It's just my nature, I just... hear it- Uh! I mean, feel it when people, hurt. I guess."

"Hear it?" This had the be one of the most inquisitive brothers he'd ever met, but the more the boy near - the quieter the buzz in the back of his was. It was easy ignoring him being sober when he talked it out.

He didn't answer, just fiddled with his fingers nervously, letting the silence of rain humming in the background. Then after a moment, where they just looked at each other, eyes expressive but holding no answer. Then boy spoke up quietly into open air, 

"My name, is Tavros Nitram and, I, can hear the pain of others."

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