Things Not Meant To Be (Karkat X Reader)

Of Peril and Poetry

ROMEO
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray — grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

ROMEO
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. " he lets out a sigh and starts once again.
  "That is the most recognizable love sonnet out there. You will all be doing sonnets that are not from plays, but written by Shakespeare during the time that theatre was made illegal in England. Listen for your name as I will be drawing sticks." He grabs the can in his left hand and pulls the first stick with his right. "Eridan," he continues, "Roxy, and (F/N). You are in group one." Roxy sets you up for a high five and you finish it. You hear other names being called. "Feferi, Karkat, and Sollux. You are group two." This continues on for a while then he lets you work. Eridan goes up and grabs the sonnet from the front of the room. He approaches us cautiously. He is the only troll in the group, he is likely intimidated. You smile warmly, he seems to be put at ease. He hands Roxy the paper and you all begin to decipher sonnet 105.

Karkat's POV

"Sonnet 23:
As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharg'd with burden of mine own love's might.
O let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
   O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
   To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. "

"Okay guys. What the fuck does this mean?" Sollux asked, staring down the paper as though it could answer.
"Hm. Well it is about love... I know that much." She smiles at Sollux, and carefully places her hand near his. It's pretty obvious she likes him. Poor Feferi, standing in the shadow of Aradia, who has already captured Captors bloodpusher.
  "It's more than that FF." He moves his hand away absently and you can almost see her heart fall a little. She looks at you and gives a half smile. You return the look.
  "What do you think Karkat? You are the Shake-spear expert aren't you?"
  "You bet your ass I am. I think it's about someone who is too shy to say how they feel, then deciding that actions speak louder than words. 'let my looks then be my eloquence' They are saying that they plan to use body language to show the other person how they feel instead of saying it. While that is my opinion, it is entirely fucking correct. Need anymore deciphering? Maybe I should make a goddamn codex." Feferi giggles, but Sollux is staring at you. He looks down and whisper reads the poem again. Nodding his head along.
  "Wow KK when you put it like that it's obvious."
  "NO SHIT CAPTOR!"
  "Karkat your voice travels. Keep it down." You turn to see your teacher pointing their correcting pen at you. You whisper your sorry and turn agains to Sollux who looks pretty damn pleased with himself.
   Feferi pulls out a piece of paper and begins to write your names on the top right hand corner of the page. Her loopy hand writing begins to spell out "Sonnet 23" in the center of the top margin. She looks up at you expectantly. Seems you will be needing to make the goddamn codex after all.

*Time skip whist Karkat does all the work in a group project as usual*

  "Okay I've finished looking at your poems, and I have one I would like to read to you all. If you want to take credit for your work you may stand up at the end." You silently wonder who would want to do that. It's embarrassing as hell to have people hear your work.

"Shadows whisper names,
We find out your little games." Oh god no.

"Tragic cries flood the night.
All they see is morning light." Why?!

"Worlds collide, we're invited inside.
Now forced to hide." Was he really reading your work?

"Screams, shouts and a scare.
Living in a nightmare.
Then a hand reaches out;
Not caring what this is all about.
Scared to lead her astray,
But not sure you'll find your own way.
The tunnel is dark, but light at the end.
We face the path to show our friend."

You want to die. That took you 8 minutes to write on the bus this morning and the subject of your writing is sitting a few chairs away from you now. Your face is Crimson and you hide in your sweater. Before your shame spiral could drag you down further, the bell sounds it's sweet relief. You don't even stay long enough to see if (F/N) guessed it was your poem, or that it was about how kind she was being. You gathered your things without looking up and left. One class left before going to the "base on the hill".

A/N thank you for reading this story, as always I appreciate comments and feedback!