Stop me now if you've seen anything quite like this before.

I'll update the description and rating and all that stuff as time goes on, as well as put triggers or whatever in the chapters to avoid spoilers as they pop up, if any.

I feel like I should dedicate this to someone. If I did, it'd probably be to my moirail. She's seriously the best damn moirail there ever was.

Disclaimer: Cover art is mine. I don't own Homestuck or the characters, just this plot and writing and such. (Actually, some plot credit goes to my moirail, for she helped me develop it into what it is now.)

You're in the ER for what seemed like the billionth time this year. You don't know why you were getting so sick. In your past couple of visits, a lot of tests were done. They sent you home and told you to come back if your symptoms worsened, or if they called you about the test results. It turns out this time that it would be both. You didn't listen at first when your dad and the doctors talked. It was always stupid boring medical terms and treatment discussion.

"We've been theorizing that because he's been getting sick-"

You zoned out again, fiddling with your hands and trying to ignore your brother, Kankri, who was talking your head off.

"His repeated illnesses-"

"Weakened immune system-"

You catch bits and pieces of what the doctors say, figuring it just had to be more interesting than what Kankri had to say.

"Tests have shown that-"

Wait. More medical stuff. How about no.

"We've come to a conclusion on his diagnoses."

Did they finally get an answer to all your problems?

"Multiple Myeloma."

You were eleven years old, yeah, but that didn't mean you were stupid. You knew what the doctors were saying, you knew what they meant.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you've just been diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma blood cancer. Apparently it's really rare in children, but you seem to be the exception. You're always the exception, what with your albino white haired, red-eyed mutation. Your eyes aren't completely red, more of a reddish brown, but it's still there.

Your father is in tears, which is quite rare for him. You watch him from your seat on the examination table. Kankri sits next to him mutely, a rare state. It sort of unnerves you, but you know this is serious.

"But listen, sir. With the right treatment, he can get better. He can get a bone marrow transplant too, if you so choose, which can definitely speed his recovery, if not pretty much cure him if done correctly. After all, it hasn't spread much. He has high chances of survival," the doctor tells your dad.

You glare at him. You sure don't feel like surviving. As if to proof this, you cough hard, a little blood coming up. This is caused by the pneumonia you've had for the third time this year, your immune system having been quite weakened by your apparent cancer. You didn't want to have this, you were just a kid, you just wanted to get better so you could play with your friends again.

"We can set up a treatment plan, put him in chemotherapy, there's so many options!" the doctor continues to tell your dad, trying to reassure him. You make eye contact with your brother. He looks sad. Maybe even sadder than you.

"I've already lost my wife to cancer, and now I have to lose my son too?!" your dad exclaims. The mention of your mother burns. She died of breast cancer when you were 6. Cancer was stupid. You hated Cancer. You hated yourself.

"Sir, please calm down. I know this is upsetting, but we're catching it in the early stages. He can get better."

Your dad just shakes his head. You don't want to remember this night.

You're silent as they wheel you into a hospital room. They had insisted you sit in a wheelchair. It was stupid. The nurses tell you that everything is going to be okay, but you know that those are just lies. You want to tell them to buzz off as they talk to you in overly cheerful voices, as if you were a two year old. You glare daggers at everyone.

So apparently you're going to be living in this room for a while. Weeks, months, years? Who knows. Not like you care. To be honest, it was good to be away from home, even if that meant you were in a hospital.

As they help you into your bed and attach IVs and such to you, you can't help but notice that there's a curtain in the middle of the room. Perhaps separating you from another patient? Do you have to share this room? It doesn't matter to you, as long as they mind their own business.

The nurses finally finish fiddling around with you, and leave you alone with your dad and whoever was behind that curtain. Your dad takes your hand and kisses your forehead. You sort of swat him away.

"I'll be fine, dad. I can get over this. I'm strong," you grumble. Your father nods, wiping a few tears.

"I'll come by to visit after work, I promise," he tells you. He works as a preacher at the church a few blocks down from your house, and as a teacher when he's not preaching. You nod at him.

"Alright dad. See you then."

He gives your forehead one last kiss before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. About half a minute goes by when suddenly the curtain is flung to the side. You jump, startled, and turn towards the culprit. It's a girl who looks about your age.

"Hello, Karkat!" she greets you, obviously having been listening to your conversation with your dad. "My name is Terezi!" You look her up and down. She looks about medium height for your age group, with you on the shorter side. She has bright reddish-orange hair, or what one might refer to as ginger. She's grinning down at you with a mouth full of gleaming white teeth that may or may not be in need of braces, and she has bright red frames perched on her face, sliding down to reveal dull, sightless blue eyes.

You glare at her. "Yeah, hey. What do you want?"

Normally people would be completely turned off by your more negative attitude, but she sure isn't. If anything, it seems to encourage her.

"I think if we're going to be staying here together, we should get to know each other! What are you here for?" Terezi asks. You growl, because she acts as if it's nothing, as if it isn't serious.

"Why is it any of your fricking business?"

"Well, it's not really. I'm just curious!" she presses on. "I'm here because I have Epithelioid-Celled Intraocular Melanoma," she states perfectly, seemingly having recited the term over and over before. You stare at her in silence, having no idea what that even is. She senses this, obviously.

"It's eye cancer, dummy," Terezi tells you. Her voice kinda falters as she speaks next. "I'm blind because of it..but that's okay! Because my other senses are totally hyped now, so I can pretty much smell and taste my way around!" she gives you a grin that makes you shiver and fill with dread.

"Well you'd better not lick me."

"Whatever, I won't lick you, grumpbutt. So are you going to tell me what you have or not?" she asks you, stepping forward and sniffing you since you won't let her lick you. "Cherries," you hear her say.

"Myeloma," you mumble quietly.

"What was that?" Terezi asks, and you know she's just screwing with you. Still, you spit it out, quite a bit louder this time.

"It's Myeloma, idiot! Multiple Myeloma! Blood cancer!" You hate that you can talk about this lightly, as if it weren't a big deal. It is.

"Oh...well I hope you get better!"

"Yeah, you too..." you offer, not really sure what else you could say in a situation like this.

Terezi invites herself to sit on the edge of your bed, her IV pole moving with her. "So, what's your favorite movie?"

Oh boy. The interrogation begins...as does a strange friendship (could you even call it that yet?) with the girl.

"You'll just laugh at me," you tell her grumpily.

"Aww, c'mon! Mine is 'Brave'!"

You shrug at her. "I don't really have a favorite, but I like stories about love," you finally admit. The two of you continue conversing, sort of bantering on here and there, and you think that you might actually be able to get along with her.

You weren't sure how you were going to survive in this place with Terezi for however long you were supposed to. How long were they expecting you to live anyways? You knew cancer was deadly. You knew you wouldn't quite get a full life because of it, even if you were 'cured'. You knew this. You weren't stupid. You wanted to survive, you wanted to beat this, you really did. You wanted it to be possible. You wanted to fight. You would fight. You promised yourself you would, for your mom on the day they diagnosed you, just a week ago. You were going to fight, and you just had to win. For your mom.

And that's the end of that! Review and tell me what you guys think! New chapter coming in a week or two, I dunno.