Title: Activation Key
Author: CapriciouslyDoomed
Rating: T+
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1, 720
Warnings: Major Character Death [Later chapters], Minor Character Death [Later chapters].

Due Date:

Noun | 1. The date on which something falls due, esp. the payment of a bill or the expected birth of a baby.

Noun | 2. The day or year of which a person's death is likely to occur.

Synonyms: maturity, date of death

You sleep in, and no one seems to notice. Either that, or they just don't bother to wake you. No one knocks on your door, or barges in – demanding that you get your ass up. Hell, they don't even approach you about eating. Giving you your space and all of that bullshit.

So you decide to take advantage of the silence. Stretching your arms up from under the sheets of your bed, you yawn before looking at the digital clock on your dresser. Exactly 1:17 in the afternoon. You end up staying there for a good half hour, before moving to lay on the floor. Well, not really lay as much as search for the video game you promised to give back to Sollux a week ago. After the first few days he told you to just forget about it - it was a pretty shitty game anyway - but you still feel like an asshole. Giving up, you let your arm drop to the floor. Your room's a fucking mess so it's not like you really should have expected to find the damn thing.

Brushing the dust off your pajamas as you stand up, there's no point in going back to bed since you're already up. Not like you'd be able to sleep anyway.

When you drag your feet into the kitchen, no one makes a movement to greet you. Not your dad, not your older brother. The latter of which is surprising, because he always has something to say. You can just barely hear the grunt of a 'good morning' when you leave the room with a box of cereal.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and today is your thirteenth birthday.

You are officially a teenager.

A part of you wants to deny it, but there isn't any real point. The calendar sitting on your bed tells you that this is unavoidable.

Any minute now your dad will come in, asking if you're sure about your decision - which you definitely are. Because thirteen years of waiting for this day has been absolute hell.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and today you will be given the date of your death.

The idea that anyone could predict your death seems like complete bullshit, so you have no idea why you're so... excited? No. Only a fucking idiot would be excited to find out when they'll die. Anticipation. That's what you're feeling. Anticipation to get this over with so you can get on with your life.

Apparently the anticipation does nothing for your hunger, though, because when your dad walks in you have one hand stuffed down the box of cereal and the other chewing with your mouth open. Freezing, you look up at him, and he simply sighs before showing you the envelope. The speed in which you snatch it from his fucking shameful. Dear God, you need to get a hold of yourself. Especially at a time like this.

"Do you want me to go?"

You shrug, not tearing your eyes off of the envelope that now rests in your hand. A small red seal is printed on the upper left corner, reading Crocker Corporations. "So how does this work anyway?"

"Inside you'll have two certificates." You dad sits beside you, and the bed creaks. "Your birth certificate, and your death certificate."

"Not that. How do they know?"

Now it's his turn to shrug.

"How the hell are we supposed to know that this is reliable? What, does the head of Crocker Corp have some employee who can just see into the future any time they want? Did they build a fucking time machine?"

"Language."

Rolling your eyes, you continue. "Dad! This is important. You have no fucking clue where this information is coming from. For all we know, they could have some huge goddamn conspiracy that's bringing doom to us all. And you're worried about my language?"

"You're beginning to sound like Sollux. Now would you like to look inside or not?"

Grumbling under your breath, you rip it open. Just as promised, inside are two carefully folded certificates. The first one you immediately recognize as your birth certificate. Setting it aside, you unfold the second one to find...

Another birth certificate.

Wait, no. It's not a birth certificate. A heading at the top of the page reads Death Certificate of Karkat Vantas in an unusual font. Then why the hell are you reading your birth date? Your eyes scan over the page repeatedly, while the phrase 'what the fuck' runs through your head again and again and again. Your dad seems to notice something is wrong, because he quickly looks at the date before taking the page and leaving the room. It isn't long before you hear him speaking harshly with someone on the other end of the phone. From what you can hear, he's calling one of CrockerCorp's offices to find out if there was a mistake or something.

Fuck.

Okay... Just... Breathe. In and out. Slowly. Shit. What in the ever-loving fuck is going on? Are they trying to say that you're already dead? That all along you've been some rotting corpse? Or a ghost? Fuck, you don't even believe in ghosts, but right now the idea is seeming more and more appealing than the thought of being dead. Or a supposed-to-be-dead human? Does this even happen? Thinking about it, you probably would have heard something on the news by now.

Without paying much attention, you're suddenly on your feet pacing. Fuck, you need to stop flipping shit. All it is is a piece of paper with some numbers on it. That's it. Nothing's changed from ten minutes ago. Okay, you're half tempted to call bullshit on that one. But only half, so you let yourself fall into the false sense of security. At least for today.

A few hours pass, and your father still hasn't returned from his constant stream of phone calls. At one point Kankri enters on his behalf, informing you that he'll be making lunch and wondering if you had any 'requests'. You give your response with a straight face:

"Something that won't fuck up my digestive system enough to kill me."

He makes you soup.

"It's the middle of summer."

"It's for the soul, Karkat. It says so right on the label."

Grudgingly, you take the bowl and thank him - if not to just get him the hell out of your room already.

This is such fucking bullshit. You're sitting in your bedroom with a bowl of soup and no idea what to do. Are you supposed to just carry on with your life as normal? That's probably what you'd do if you hadn't decided to find out.

... Yeah.

So you stand up, abandoning the soup which has been placed on your dresser, and with shaking hands empty your backpack onto your bed. Wrinkled papers and old books from last year fall out in a perfect state of messiness, and immediately you begin to fill the bag. You're almost in a mindless state, throwing in any object that catches your eye while walking around your room. Some shirts, a couple of video games, your clock, the box of cereal you'd been eating from earlier. When you finally zip it up, the bag is pretty heavy, but nothing that isn't manageable.

The next thing you do is get changed into actual clothes. Zipping up the grey hoodie halfway, you throw up the hood and force on your sneakers without untying them. Which actually turns out to be a shitty idea because the next thing you know you're hopping around on one foot, and with each jump you can hear the cereal crunching. Fuck.

Ten minutes later and you're leaving the house. When your brother asks where you're going, you simply say "out". Over the years you've learned that the best way to converse with him is with short answers.

You walk around for about half an hour before finding anything remotely interesting. But what you do find is a forest.

Hundreds of trees clustered together, with patches of long grass here and there. The first instinct is to walk along and mind your own business, but what else are you going to do? Go home? Deal with your dad and all of this CrockerCorp bullshit? No. It's your goddamn birthday and you're going to do what you want. So you climb over a long log and begin to push aside the overgrown grass. There aren't any paths, so you can only guess that you won't have to run into anyone. The thought pleases you enough to smirk and continue on, because really the last thing you want is to fly off the handle because of some idiots you run into.

The farther to go, the more you notice just how isolated everything is. Moss seems to take over most of the rocks and fallen over trees. Insects buzz in your ears, and you're regretting not bringing some sort of spray. The most noticeable thing though, is that it's all very... colourful. Disgustingly colourful to the point where you aren't sure what to look at next. Pink wildflowers catch your eye, while a spider's web is shining from the sunlight. It's all so distracting that you forget that yes, you are walking. You're walking right into a tree.

Cursing loudly, you drop to your knees while clutching the side of your head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was so fucking stupid, you quickly look around to check that no one saw before remembering you're alone. Completely, totally, and utterly alone.

Shit.

Author's Note: I've had this idea in my head for a while, but I'm still not sure if I'll be continuing it. If I do, the next chapter will definitely be longer.

Any reviews are appreciated.