A/n: so its... been a while? honestly i had a whole other message typed up and accidentally went back a page and lost it. anyways! two years is a little to excessive to apologize for my absence, right? ive been debating even explaining my original intent with the ending, but two years ago little baby kam was planning to have kurloz kill himself at the end of this. but that didn't seem right, especially when i had gotten down to actually thinking about where to go with the story. i had never meant for it to be very long, really. so the original plan didnt seem right, and trying to make it all magically work out seemed forced, so i sat down and tried to think of something better. i thought and thought and thought for so long i ended up abandoning the story and getting caught up in literally everything else.

so, i haven't been caught up on homestuck in... probably over a year now. i watched the final update when it came out bc i felt Obligated to, but other than that, nothing. and as i said before, i havent touched this story in almost two years. i reread what had already been posted, thought about what to do for a couple days, and spent a couple more days writing this in my free time. i tried to make this longer than the last chapter, bc i felt i owed everyone that much. this is 4.1k words compared to last chapters 3.6k. i'll post an epilogue in a couple days, the end of the week at the latest, but it'll be relatively short. i'm gonna end this note before its as long as the chapter.

real quick though: the songs mentioned toward the end of the chapter are pendulum- the island (specifically the madeon remix) and the eden project- man down, in that order. thanks to everyone who has stuck by this! (also i dont remember how to do lines/breaks/whatever on this so it's just gonna be a series of underscores)

They stood backstage at a choir concert, a silent conversation made with their hands. Really, Kurloz and Meulin had known each other for so long, had gotten so close, that many conversations could be had through eye contact alone. Kurloz had studied up on more sign language. Simple conversations turned into slightly-not-as-simple conversations. Progress was progress.

Meulin wore a defeated look. She was part of the concert, but as more of a figure, a decoration. She had a solo, she had sung her solo surprisingly well, doing great until she got tripped up, hitting a few sour notes and getting choked up. Rushing off the stage, the standing ovation at her bravery was muffled static falling on dear ears. It sounded like something akin to a waterfall. She drowned in the applause. Kurloz had been there to support her, the choir director begrudgingly allowing him backstage.

Crutches rested at Kurloz's sides more than they helped support his weight. The cast on his leg would come off in a week and a half. Mituna had just been woken from a medically induced coma just a couple days prior, a collectively held breath released now that he was awake, driving the point home that he was alive. The guilt was eating Kurloz alive though, because Mituna was much different coming out of the coma than he was going in. The doctors had talked about it before he had woken up, motionless body repairing itself in a too quiet hospital room, silent and broken. There was extensive damage from the accident, injuries resulting in brain damage. It was still Mituna, but it was different. Kurloz had visited him; Mituna couldn't remember the accident, and Kurloz couldn't look Mituna in the eye. He wasn't ready to talk about the accident, the secret of Mituna's heroism a heavy burden on his already slumped shoulders. Atlas with the world steadily crumbling while it pressed heavier on his back.

The conversation paused. Kurloz had successfully assured Meulin that she had done great on stage. Tremendous. She was smiling happily, enjoying the feeling of the concert even if she couldn't necessarily participate. Thinking this was the perfect time, Kurloz pulled a small box out of his back pocket and handed it to her. The box held a pair of hearing aids, the eight hundred dollar pair Meulin's mom had told him about, in Meulin's favorite shade of blue. He didn't think she'd want olive green. The look on her face stays hard neutral; he can't tell if she's happy about the gift. She looks up at him, shaking her head and handing the box back.

"I can't accept these." The words seem foreign in her mouth, the pitch skewed from how she used to speak. Kurloz signs back at her, wanting to accommodate her as much as she tries to him.

"Take them, they're for you."

"Kurloz, this is too much. We would have worked up the money for these, you didn't need to do this."

"I wanted to." Meulin pushed the box back toward him, firm in her polite refusal. Kurloz started to sign at her, but she held his hands to stop him.

"Kurloz, I think we should break up." He didn't know how to react, that much was obvious to her. She pulled the ring off her finger, placing it in his hand and curling his fingers around it. "I love you, Kurloz. I just don't think we should be in a relationship right now. Maybe in the future. Maybe after we graduate we can try again. But until then, we can be friends?"

Kurloz nodded stiffly, putting the ring in his front pocket. He nodded again, grabbing up his crutches and leaving. His face stayed blank all the way home.

It hadn't managed to put a kink in his plans, just motivated Kurloz to put them into action sooner. Too many things had happened recently. Too many cracks he couldn't fill in his aching, broken heart. He just needed to wait for his cast to come off. The orchestra concert the week after didn't hold any importance to him. They'd do fine without him there.

He had already been planning to drop out of school. His poor attendance was irredeemable at this point, and he doubted he'd be able to bring his grades back up by the time graduation came around. A whole whopping three college applications had gotten filled out, but he was no longer interested in going. It was hard to think about the future, to work toward some far off goal, when your current life was falling apart around you.

The cast came off. He quit going to school entirely. He went down to his spot on the fountain daily now, earning enough money to set his plan into motion. Gamzee knew, Kurloz knew that much. He knew Gamzee was disappointed. Neither of them said anything. They started hanging out in the living room again, just the two of them, smoking and finding ways to avoid the elephant in the room that threatened their little bit of peace. The school called about Kurloz's absence. Their dad called about the school calling. They ignored both these things, going about life as normally as they could. Gamzee wanted to go back to the way things were before. Kurloz wanted to get away from it all.

Silent nights came and went, dull and lifeless. Color faded and lost its meaning until life was a gray-washed memory of a technicolor dream. Kurloz was perpetually cold even as the weather warmed, hands balled into fists in his sweater to retain heat. The breakup had been hard to deal with at first, made harder by Meulin cutting off contact to have time to herself. He hadn't messaged her much, but he still wanted to talk to her. She was the person closest to him, besides his brother, before shit hit the fan, and he missed late nights of pointless conversations. That was probably the part that hurt the most. He was lonely and numb, but there was no one that he felt he could talk to anymore. His temper had been nonexistent at first, snapping at whoever whenever, but now he didn't speak. He didn't want to. It felt like people had stopped listening long before he stopped speaking.

Sleep evaded him, leaving him to stare into the darkness, numb aside from the ache settled in his chest. His judgment slipped, stumbled, and fell the more he was deprived of sleep. He was thankful that the constant chill of his skin gave him reason to wear long sleeves. He had spent hours pouring over sheet music he still wanted to memorize, anything to keep himself busy during the stillness of the night. One particular night, during hours spent staring into the void and lost in the abyss of his whirling thoughts, he made a decision. His mouth was no longer in use. It had been so long since he spoke, so long since he fed any bland, tasteless, cardboard-and-sandpaper like food into his mouth, that he decided he didn't need it anymore.

Pushing out of bed and padding through the rest of the house, he went to the hall closet and dug through until he came across the buried, long forgotten sewing kit. It only ever got used if someone broke a button off of something. Pulling the kit out, he took it in its entirety back to his room, locking the door behind him.

He set up shop on his bed, needle and spool of black thread sitting in front of him. His laptop sat just beyond that, webcam open and positioned so he could see his face. It took him a minute to realize, really realize that yes, that's what he looks like now. Hair more wild than usual, and in desperate need of a cut, was starting to mat on the back of his neck. Features were starting to turn gaunt, deep bags under his eyes. His eyes were filled with pain and fear. He was a mess. He looked like a cornered animal, and he was starting to feel that way. Looking away from the screen, from his reflection, he threaded the needle. He made sure to put the needle in the middle of the length of thread he was going to use, tying both ends together. The middle school home economics teacher would be proud.

Watching his reflection move carefully, delayed reactions and all, he stitched his lips together. Half way through he realized it was an awful idea, but he had gone too far to stop now. It hurt. Really, it hurt no more than anything else he's been through, but the weird feeling of thread moving against fresh wounds was all but pleasant. He smiled at his pixel duplicate on the screen, admiring his work. Twitching his lips he found that he hadn't pulled the thread all the way taut, leaving him room to open his mouth still, just enough to fit a straw between his lips. He could smoke still. Either way, he was pleased with himself. He managed to fall into a short, fitful sleep afterwards, comprised more of tossing and turning than actual rest.

Gamzee hadn't acknowledged him at first. They'd fallen into a routine; Gamzee would drift around the house while he got ready for whatever he'd planned that day, and Kurloz would just drift. Kurloz's drifting came with more silence and less bustling. He was, however, dressed this morning, nice shirt all buttoned up his thinning frame and hair brushed. It was a ruse; he wanted to avoid the conflict that was sure to come when Gamzee found out what he'd done for as long as he could.

"Doing something new with your makeup?" Gamzee asked. He didn't question whether or not Kurloz was going to go to school anymore. Kurloz nodded. "It looks cool. The contrast gives it more of a skull look. You did good." Kurloz rewards him with a small smile, waving when he leaves.

After a while Kurloz left too, heading to his spot at the outlet mall again. The last time he would, probably. His father had gotten him yet another car, but he stopped caring about what exactly his father did that made him so willing to purchase so many vehicles. Fiddling with the chain around his neck while he drove he ran a finger over the ring hanging off, his thumb having recently gotten very familiar with the olive gem embedded in the metal. Meulin's old ring he had bought her hung off a chain around his neck, only coming off when he showers.

There wasn't much business at the strip mall, and Kurloz hadn't been planning to stay long in the first place. He played for a couple hours before packing back up, surprised that he was able to make the stray few dollars that he did. He put his cello in the car but decided to head back to the outlet mall, going into a small convenience store at the end of the strip. All he bought was a box of straws- bendy straws, because he's frivolous above most things- and made his first purchase in unwavering silence. He smiled on his way back to his car.

The house was empty when he got home. Showering and redressing in a baggy shirt and sweatpants, he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, one hand behind his head and the other toying with the ring. Pensive and thinking, a statue if not for his hand spinning the chain around his neck. He made use off his bendy straws immediately, a half empty glass of water on his nightstand. The door to his room was wide open, his way to let Gamzee know he's home now that he's vocally inept. Despite how his thoughts had been crashing in his skull before, his mind was blessedly empty. At least for now.

Gamzee came home, heavy footsteps falling around the first floor until they pounded up the stairs. He gave a cursory "hey bro" on the way to his room, which Kurloz returned with a wave.

"Do you wanna go with me to get something to eat? We need to go shopping again but I'm too fucking lazy." Gamzee asked from the doorway, leaned against the frame.

Kurloz shook his head, freezing when he saw Gamzee's face fall.

As he entered the room, Gamzee asked, "What the fuck did you do? Did you really stitch that shit into your mouth?"

Kurloz nodded as he sat up. He stared at Gamzee, unflinching gaze challenging him.

"You stupid motherfucker, why the hell did you do that?"

There were few ways to actually answer, since Gamzee blatantly refused to have anything to do with sign language, so Kurloz pulled his phone out. He typed a message, sent it, and wiggled his phone at Gamzee just moments before his phone vibrated in his pocket. "It's not like I'm using it anymore."

"What about when you need to eat? Or drink? You've decided to just never speak again and decided you didn't have to fucking do anything else that you need your mouth for?" Kurloz pointed at his glass of water. "Whatever. You've got other things you need to be able to open your mouth for."

"Well it's not like I go around sucking dick." Gamzee blushed as he read the text, but Kurloz figured it was more out of frustration than embarrassment.

"You know what I fucking meant, you sick bastard. Are you ever going back to school?" Kurloz shook his head. "Why the hell not?"

"School just isn't for me anymore."

"School isn't for most people, but you still have to fucking go." Kurloz shrugged. "You've given up on everything, haven't you? Weak, pitiful motherfucker. No wonder Meulin dumped your ass."

Kurloz flipped him off, not letting it show that the comment managed to wound him. Gamzee stomped out of the room, slamming every door he passed.

It was Sunday when Kurloz left, sliding out of bed at six in the morning. Gamzee slept until noon on Sundays, giving Kurloz plenty of time to put distance between the house and himself. He stuffed some clothes into a backpack, making sure to take his favorite sweater, a black one with skeleton ribs printed on it. Packing everything else he planned to take, which wasn't all that much, he shoved the box of bendy straws in his bag and all the money he had. A couple hundred dollars would last him a while on the road as long as he didn't sleep in a hotel.

The air was still when he got outside, silent, like everything collectively held its breath to see if Kurloz was going to go through with this. His car glistened in the early morning light, condensation covering it in the chilly morning. Everything was heavy and damp, dew and mist waiting to be burned away by the coming heat of the afternoon. Life started back up when Kurloz unlocked the car, the distant sound of wind chimes ringing sweetly, birds' song echoing in the trees. He threw his bag in the back seat before sliding into the driver's seat. Gripping the steering wheel til his knuckles were white, he took a deep breath, committing to his plan the rest of the way. All he had to do now was start the car and drive. He wasn't going to let himself get cold feet.

There wasn't anywhere specific he was heading, he just wanted to be gone. Sure enough, just past noon when he was reaching the state line, his phone erupted in a mess of notifications. He chuckled to himself, pulling off into a gas station a little off the interstate to check his phone. Seven texts from Gamzee; he didn't bother opening them. He parked the car, going inside to buy some bottles of water. His tank was just over a quarter of the way full, he'd make it another couple hours before he really needed gas. He stood in line for the register and smiled sweetly at every baffled look sent his way, up until his phone started ringing in his pocket. He rejected Gamzee's call, composing a text right after.

"I can't talk, dumbass. You call Meulin, too?" Even over text his sarcasm was palpable. Gamzee chose to ignore it.

"Where THE FUCK did you go?"

"I fucking left. I taped a note to my door for a reason." Kurloz could imagine Gamzee pounding back up the stairs to look at the note.

"Are you coming back?"

"Probably not."

"What the fuck, man."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not planning to drop off the face of the earth. Not yet, anyways. I'll make sure to text you since I won't be there to tuck you in every night. :o)"

"Shut the hell up."

After getting through his transaction with a very uncomfortable cashier, Kurloz drove some more. He took pictures as he went, whenever he was able to. He took one as he went over the state line, one of the bumper sticker on the car in front of him while stopped at a red light. More than a few of the scenery he drove through at various points in the day. He had no idea where he was going, just taking any road that would take him farther away from home. Once the sun had gone down and he started to get drowsy he pulled off into a rest stop on the side of the highway, parking his car for the night. He went through his pictures, picking a handful of the ones he liked best and posting them on each of his social media accounts.

"Had a nice first day on the road. I'll keep everyone posted as I go." Kurloz plugged his phone in to the car charger after that, reclining his seat all the way and going to sleep.

Days went on like that. The second time he stopped for gas he decided to grab a map, too. There was no reason for it, but he figured he may as well go see some sights while he was out, even if nothing seemed that appealing. He decided he'd go west for now, try to make it to a beach, then he'd go from there. The next time he stopped he bought a pair of sunglasses, immediately posting a picture of himself wearing them. A few stops after that he had made his way to a truck stop, not realizing until then that he'd ever want to shower as badly as he did then.

True to his word, he kept Gamzee in the loop, aside from posts on the internet. He never told him where he was at specifically, but he'd let him know when he'd cross to another state. People commented on his posts, people sent him messages, but his replies were few and far between. The only other person that got an immediate response was Meulin's sister, Nepeta, because even if he and Meulin were no longer dating, she still felt like his little sister.

The sun was hardly up when he found the beach, debris left over from activity the day before. He took pictures throughout the day, spending the night there. It was packed during the day, the weather hot enough to draw out a multitude of people. He regretted not bringing any shorts, but just rolled up his jeans, changed into a short-sleeved shirt, and walked around the beach without shoes. The sunglasses were a nice touch. That night's post was mostly just pictures of the sun shimmering on the water's surface and a watercolor skyline, along with his feet buried in the sand, and one of himself, looking off to the side, sunglasses on and a bright green straw between his lips. He stared at the stars through the sunroof of the car, glad that the city's lights were far enough away not to obscure too many of them. A smile played on his lips as he drifted off. A notification had popped up after he posted his pictures; Meulin had liked the one he posted of himself.

He spent a while longer driving to nowhere in particular before he decided that he should head home. There wasn't any rush to get there, so he took his sweet time. He stuck to back roads, taking the scenic route as much as he could. When he wasn't taking pictures, he used his phone to play music, connecting it to the radio with an auxiliary cable. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat, head bobbing slightly. Humming along to the lyrics, his phone's vibrating goes unnoticed. Only when it starts ringing, Gamzee calling to get his attention and nothing more, does he acknowledge it. Pulling onto the shoulder of the country road he was driving down, he unlocks his phone. It takes him a few tried to read the message, still caught in the lyrics of the song.

-Turn my back, the urge has gone. Left with no reason, we come undone.

"Are you coming home soon? Meulin wants us to come to her graduation party in a couple weeks." The days had blurred together, to the point that Kurloz had to check the date just to settle himself. Meulin would be graduating in a week. He'd be graduating in a week if he wouldn't have left. If he would have been able to pull his grades back up.

"I'm on my way back, but I'm not in any hurry. I might be there by then."

"You should drop her a motherfucking line. Sis and I are tired of playing messenger." He meant Nepeta. Kurloz ran a hand down his face, sighing dejectedly.

"She doesn't want to talk to me."

"She misses you."

"Then she can send me a message herself. I'm done chasing after her."

Gamzee doesn't message him for the rest of the day. Kurloz makes his nightly post, sans pictures. He was just tired at this point, energy seeming to leak out of his pores. While sleep dodged him, despite his better attempts, he mused that the most active he's ever been on any of his accounts was when he left on this trip. There were no notifications waiting for him when he woke the next morning. He composed a text, sending it to Gamzee, Nepeta, and Meulin.

"I'm coming home."

He had been closer than he'd anticipated when he pulled onto the interstate, only hours away from home now. He could be there tonight; it was practically a straight shot. It was exciting, exhilarating, to find out he was so close. It surprised him, considering he wasn't planning to even look back when he had left.

The excitement had worn off rather quickly, leaving him exhausted. He didn't want to try to take the trip back and accidentally doze off at the wheel; he'd been in enough accidents in this life, thanks. He also knew he'd have visitors once people found out he was home. Or he hoped, at least. Blinking himself awake, he took the next exit, parking under a tree at a rest stop.

Golden light filtered through the leaves, dyeing the car's interior soft green through the sunroof. Kurloz turned the car off, but let his phone keep playing music. He rolled the windows down a crack. It was a nice day out, clouds rolling across an impossibly blue sky, sun shining, the breeze keeping it from being too hot. Everything felt peaceful. Kurloz took a picture of the beams of light through his sunroof, the green hue it painted his passenger seat, a picture of himself, smirking and reflecting his phone screen into his shades. He posted them immediately, captioning them: :o).

A few minutes later, he took another picture of himself, without the sunglasses. He had the seat laid back, holding the phone at arm's length, nearly touching the roof of the car. He was too tired to notice how he'd changed since he'd left; gaunt features covered in pale skin, eyes sunken and glassy. He posted this picture, too, adding lyrics from the song he'd just been listening to as the caption.

"But you'll never know it, 'cos I'm way too proud. Hide behind my ego, block the whole world out. And these words they don't come easy, and they don't come loud, so you'll never know it, screaming man down."

He set an alarm for an hour from then before he set his phone face down on the middle console. Sleep came easily.

An hour later, his alarm blared and went unnoticed.