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Dave didn’t like school. But what he hated far worse was summer vacation. Usually, Dave only had to deal with his brother after school, which he could often escape by fleeing to his room as soon as he got home. Summer meant two straight months of Bro. If Dave was lucky, Bro would go to parties, stay late, come home drunk, and pass out on the couch. Though sometimes those drunk Bro nights were even worse than sober Bro.
Leaving school on the last day before summer vacation sowed seeds of fear in Dave’s mind. He hated being alone, but walking home faster meant sooner being alone with Bro. He stood in hesitation just outside the school gates.
“What the fuck are you doing, Strider?” A surprisingly welcome voice shouts. The blond whipped around and smiled casually,
“Just taking in the last day of school!”
“Like hell you are,” Karkat snorted, walking up to his friend, “This place is hellhole–and you know it!”
Dave slung his arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders,
“You know me so well.”
Karkat blushed, pushing Dave’s arm away,
“I have to get home. I’ll see you in September?”
“Maybe over the summer? I can’t stand being bottled up all day, everyday,” He chuckled, adjusting his shades.
“We’ll see, don’t push your luck, Strider.”
“Acting all tsundere again I see?”
Karkat rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he trudged away.
The smile faded from Dave’s lips as an unseen one formed on Karkat’s. Unknown to either boy, they would both be missing each other.
Dave pulled his headphones over his ears from around his neck. He loved the song that was on, but he wasn’t listening to the music. Nothing, not even that could distract him from the lingering feeling of dread.
When he finally reached his apartment building, his pace increased, eager to bypass the many questionable people inhabiting it. Head down, he darted into the elevator. Another man was already there, but thankfully, he paid Dave no mind. Silently, Dave expressed his relief.
Once the man left, Dave was alone. His headphones were still on as he fidgeted with his hands anxiously. The next floor up, a tall man stepped on. Dave’s hands went still.
“What’s a kid like you doin’ here alone?”
“Ever heard of coming home from school?” Dave snickered, eyes blown wide behind dark shades.
“Have you ever heard of respecting your elders?” The man growled, taking a step toward him.
Dave didn’t reply as he stared at the electronic display. Couldn’t it reach his floor any faster?
The stranger placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder to which he brushed off cooly as the silver doors slid open.
“Well, this is my floor.”
It wasn’t his floor, he lived on the top one, but he had discreetly pressed a button to avoid spending any longer on the elevator. He resigned to having to climb several flights of stairs, but it was a small price to pay to avoid creeps. There always seemed to be so many...
A dull ache had set into his thighs from the mountainous climb, but Dave soon forgot it when he collapsed on his bed. He slung his bag on the floor and turned up the volume on his headphones. He didn’t know where Bro was, and he didn’t want to think about it. His door was shut, which meant he was the safest he could be in the apartment.
Dave’s eyes drifted shut, allowing him to be consumed by the beat, hoping his heartbeat would mimic that rather than focus on fear. The music drowned out the sound of a door and of footsteps–the telltale sounds of Bro leaving his own room in search of God knows what.
Eyes shooting open at a sharp rise in the song, Dave worried he had heard an exterior noise. He pushed his headphones onto the nightstand and sat up. His ears registered the creak of the fridge door followed by the hollow thud of it shutting. Bro was either grabbing a beer or old takeout–there was no in between with him.
Dave suddenly became conscious of how sweaty he was. The heat of the dawning summer combined with jogging up stairs led to an unwelcome damp shirt. With ears pricked for Bro’s return to his room, Dave peeled his shirt off and tossed it to the ever-growing pile of laundry.
Laundry was always a good excuse to avoid Bro, but it also meant having to do laundry–both his and his brother’s. Besides, he was in no mood to walk down to the laundromat in the unbearable Texas summer heat.
Dave was almost entirely certain the coast was clear, so he made a dash for the bathroom. Luckily, he was correct and found himself unbothered and unquestioned. Reflexively, he locked the door before stripping down with practiced haste.
The water was a little too cold, but it helped cool Dave down. The prickles of sweat faded, replaced by an occasional shiver. Though his muscles tensed, he felt relieved. A cold shower always cleared his mind–at least in the moment.
He spent most of the shower calming his breathing, with the last two minutes being scrubbing himself clean. The last he wanted was to stink, he still had a reputation to uphold, after all.
Finally, he twisted the spray off and wrapped a towel around his waist before softly stepping out. He gathered his discarded clothes and took a deep breath, opening the door.
At first glance, the apartment was still, but a shadow from the living room grabbed his attention. With a natural leisurely pace, Bro stepped into the hallway. His hands were empty, but that brought Dave little comfort. There were simply no obstacles this time.
Dave’s eyes were blown wide with fright as he stared back at his brother. Not being able to make out what he was looking at or his expression made it all the more terrifying.
Flicking his chin up as greeting, Dave turned to his room. He took a step forward, heart pounding in his chest.
“Come here.”
The boy stopped dead in his tracks.
“Come here,” He repeated with the same commanding inflection.
Gingerly, Dave turned back to his brother.
“Sup?” He asked, managing to remain calm.
Bro’s jaw tensed as he, instead, approached Dave. Every step seemed to be Dave’s pulse thrumming against his rib cage. Bro stopped only a few feet away, leaving Dave tilting his head up to meet his obscured gaze.
“You remember the drill, for summer vacation, lil’ man?” Bro asked with his signature straight face that Dave couldn’t shake.
Dave nodded,
“No friends over, no interfering with your work, and anyone I sleep with has to leave that night.” He fought back the urge to say ‘work’ with more sarcasm, but he preferred to not ruin his chances so soon. “They’re pretty much no different than usual.”
“You’re forgetting one.”
“Stay out of sight when you’ve got girls over.”
“Or what ?”
“Or I’ll take their place.”
“Exactly,” Bro nodded, a soft smirk on his lips, “They’ll leave immediately because nothing kills the mood more than a snooping little brother.”
The final rule had been in play for a while, but it had never come to anything. Dave was still uncertain whether or not it was just an ironic joke.
Bro turn to stalk back to the living room when Dave spoke up.
“What about me?”
“Come again?” He glanced over his shoulder at his younger brother.
“What if I bring someone over–like to sleep with?”
“That rule hardly matters, at this rate, you’ll die a virgin,” He scoffed.
“But what if do!” Dave persisted.
Bro shrugged,
“I sure as fuck won’t have a reason to stick around. I’m not gonna watch you fuck some underage chick you think is hot because she shared her lunch money with you.”
Through the scorn, Dave felt the sincerity of his words, yet the hypocrisy was painfully evident. He was too morally righteous to watch a child have sex, yet he was willing to threaten his own brother –also a child–with sex?
It wasn’t even like Bro had never entertained the thought before. It wouldn’t be the first time he had railroaded Dave into illicit activities. How many times had he coerced Dave into shots and hard liquor? Or smoking weed with him? Or when he was really wasted, getting handjobs out of Dave with the promise of leaving him alone after? Bro was by far no model citizen and certainly no saint, let alone possessing the moral boundaries he claimed to have.
Dave’s throat was dry,
“Thanks.”
Bro let out a snicker, but Dave couldn’t see the joke. The joke wasn’t on him, it was him. And Bro knew it.
The boy stood, paralyzed, until his brother was out of sight once more. That was Dave’s cue to return to the seclusion of his bedroom.
The murmur of the TV could be heard through the walls, but it wasn’t anything new to Dave. It was one of the few sounds in the apartment he could allow himself ignore. The acute awareness of Bro’s location could never be neglected though.
Dave would have loved to kill time getting dressed, but all his actions were hurried in his home. Either he rushed getting ready in the morning, or he was late for school. If he skipped or was late to school, Bro was sure to receive a call and Dave would then be guaranteed a punishment.
If he didn’t exercise haste over summer vacation, then Bro would accuse of being lazy, and worse. Dave was known to be very persuasive around the school, but Bro seemed immune to whatever charm his brother possessed. Rarely did their arguments devolve into shouting matches, but when they did, they were one-sided. And not in Dave’s favour.
Once he was dressed–a simple t-shirt and jeans–Dave shuffled into the living room. His retained his casual swagger, but his fingers twitch as he withheld them from balling into nervous fists.
Dave sat upon the futon, casting a sideways glance at Bro in the recliner. His older brother was half-heartedly watching The Office on Netflix; both had already seen the show numerous times over. Dave fished his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled lazily through Instagram. He frequently glanced at the chair out of nervous habit.
The Strider shades were a double-edged sword: the brothers could see everything, but no one could be certain what they were focussed on. While Dave’s ruby eyes flickered between the TV, his phone, and his brother, Bro’s amber eyes stayed trained on Dave.
Bro cleared his throat and Dave immediately flicked to him. He had hoped it was only his eyes, but he was sure his head had turned as well.
Though Dave cursed his unease, Bro relished in it. It was a twistedly pleasant feeling to know someone was always concentrating on your presence. Bro was no professor, but he knew the effects of Dave’s upbringing remained. As a child, Dave was taught to sword fight in daily duels Bro labelled “strifes”. Since he entered high school, Bro had cut the strifes back to a monthly basis; something Dave was beyond thankful for.
“Meet me on the roof in two minutes,” Bro declared, clicking the TV off. He set the remote down and strode off to the stairs.
Dave released his breath, unaware he had been holding it. His stomach churned with unrest as his heart raced. He was frozen with dread as he stood up. His limbs were locked in a mechanical fashion as he staggered to his room to retrieve his sword.
While Bro was distracted, he could flee the apartment, but it was certain that Bro would find him. Disobedience was infinitely worse than failure.
With a heavy heart, Dave trudged up the stairs, his sword dragging behind him and hitting each one with an echoing tink .
Dave pushes open the heavy door, squinting against the flood of light from the sunset’s glow. The horizon was as orange as Bro’s piercing irises that flashed from over his shades.
Following his signature point-and-thumbs-down motion, the strife began. Bro raised his blade as Dave clutched his defensively.
The boy’s knuckles went milk-white from the pressure he was applying. Even if his blocks were weak, they were better then being disarmed.
Bro growled, slicing downward at Dave who effectively parried the blow.
“Strike back, lil’ man,” Bro commanded through gritted teeth. Considering the precision of his strikes, it always surprises Dave by how concentrated his brother was.
While initially waiting for Dave’s arrival, Bro paced the roof. He twirled his sword about carelessly as he thought. He kicked at the sand that piled up intermittently, watching it get whisked away by a breeze. The sand was Dave. Bro kicked at it all he wanted but although it appeared to leave, it would eventually get blown back at him.
Dave had tried to run away after a strife that even Bro would admit was particularly brutal. In a sick twist of fate, Dave’s bruises prevented him from climbing the many flights of stairs separating him from the outside world. The elevator had been out of service for several weeks in that time, which saved Bro losing his brother.
Though Dave felt a rush of adrenaline, Bro was worried sick as he raced after him. When he did find his brother, Dave had collapsed on the stairs in a sobbing heap.
The furious reaction Dave expected never came. Bro placed him softly in his bed and left him alone to rest for several days.
Caught up in the nostalgia of that one connection he felt with Dave, Bro landed a swipe at his brother’s knees that sent him face-first to the ground. Though his sword was instinctively poised to stab down, Bro cast it aside swiftly.
He crouched down next to Dave who had begun to choke on blood and tears. He went to offer his hand, but instead scooped the boy up in his arms. He kicked Dave’s sword over to his own and stomped down the stairs.
Dave buried his face in his brother’s shirt, soaking it with tears and blood. Bro nudged Dave’s head back to inspect him. The boy was largely unharmed, sustaining only a nosebleed, but the sight of his eyes were what hurt Bro the most. They were red and puffy, tears rolling down his face in sheets. They rarely saw each other’s eyes, but he did in this moment because Dave’s shades had skidded across the roof.
Bro shook his head slowly, taking Dave to the bathroom. He set him down on the edge of the tub and passed him a handful of tissues. Bro rummaged around cupboards for rubbing alcohol and then dabbed the disinfectant on the few cuts littering Dave’s arms. Dave didn’t recoil at the sensation, instead focussing on the smell.
The scent of rubbing alcohol is reminiscent of a hospital. It brought the comfort of cleanliness and professionals tasked with care and recovery. Dave didn’t visit hospitals much anymore, it was mostly in his childhood after acting foolishly on the playground.
With the nosebleed diminishing, and the cuts taken care of, Bro lifted Dave off his feet and carried him to his bedroom. Dave’s body seized up at the realization he was entering his brother’s room. Not only was the space was foreign to him from rarely entering, but he had built it up in his head as a place to fear.
Overall, nothing was in the room that was exceptionally unordinary. The room mimicked Dave’s in the same way most boys’ room did. There was a laundry heap and an unmade bed. Though Dave had a decent gaming setup, Bro’s was far more impressive with an expensive desktop that put Dave’s laptop to shame.
Bro sat on his bed and placed Dave next to him. He placed his own shades on the nightstand.
“Are they safe?” Dave asked, his voice a scratchy whisper.
“Are what?”
“My shades…”
“Yeah. I think so,” Bro reassured him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Dave wiped the final tears from his eyes, but refused to meet Bro’s concerned gaze.
“I’m sorry for losing,” The boy continued.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll go get the swords,” Dave offered, sniffling.
“No,” Bro replied firmly, making Dave flinch. He softened his tone, “I’ll get them later. What do you want for dinner, lil’ ma?”
“Whatever you want is fine.”
“Your pick tonight.”
“Pizza?”
“Pizza it is.”
Bro wrapped the blanket around Dave’s shoulders before standing up and strolling out of the room.
Dave could hear the muffled sounds of his brother on the phone, but, for once, he didn’t care. He tuned out his brother’s presence entirely as his vision clouded over and he tipped onto his side. He was so tired…
“Pizza’s here, lil’ man.”
Bro’s calm voice echoed in Dave’s head as he blinked awake. His brother was standing over him, hand gently shaking his shoulder. As Bro left the room, Dave pushed the blanket off himself and stood up. He rubbed his eyes as he followed.
“Where are my shades?” He mumbled, glancing around the apartment as he neared the kitchen where he saw a large pizza box had been placed in the counter.
“Roof,” Bro answered simply, pushing his own shades up his nose.
“I’ll be right back,” Dave told him, barely above a whisper. Bro rarely cared where he went off to, as long as he came home sometime.
“Eat first,” Bro instructed, motioning toward the pizza.
Chewing his lip slightly, Dave nodded. He watched as his brother headed to the living room, a can of beer and a slice of pizza in each hand.
Bro put The Office back on the TV.
Dave sat back down on the futon, nibbling at the pizza. He dared a glance at Bro. Dave could have swore he saw a slight smile on his brother’s lips… but he would never know for sure.