Chapter Text
♡ ‧₊˚ ‧₊°✧ ୨୧ A i r t a g ୨୧ ✧°₊‧ ˚₊‧ ♡
Dave is seventeen when you and your dad drive to Texas to pick him up.
You should’ve seen the signs. Should’ve asked more questions when he seemed distant. You were his best friend and you didn’t know the scale of how bad his homelife was until he messaged you that they were taking his Bro in for questioning after the arrest.
The arrest.
You remember how cold it made you feel, an ugly knot forming in your stomach that made your shoulders raise unconsciously. You had spoken to your dad and he’d taken the reins of the situation. Asked for time off work, off school, and then it was agony. Weeks, then months of trials, witness reports, the pictures of Dave’s body displayed for all to see with scars and bruises. Hospital records on the boards of evidence bare for all to see, painting the most fucked up picture and it had happened while Dave talked about games and music and how his Bro was busting his balls with training.
Your friend had been physically and sexually abused by his brother since he was thirteen. Four years, a majority of your friendship, your friend had been dealing with a man who was supposed to love and protect him and had instead used him for his sick pleasure. Living with constant fear, not knowing when his next meal would come, having to do anything to placate his mood swings and keep himself safe. Bro himself, without his shades or grey cap, chained up and in an orange jumpsuit, had been unapologetic in his confession, eyes cold and distant without a shred of guilt. He hadn’t even flinched when he saw the pictures of the man he killed in a fit of jealousy to keep Dave all to himself.
When you all drove away from Houston, never to return, your friend a shell of his former self, you made yourself a promise. You’d be there for him. You’d care for him. Rose was already beside herself with guilt and Jade had threatened to travel to DC just to make sure he was okay. But you’d be his support, his rock, something your dad had said was commendable and made him proud of you. You don’t stay with him and make sure he eats, or gets up, or showers even to be commendable. If you’re honest with yourself, you stay and do those things out of guilt.
You didn’t pay attention. Sometimes you reread the message logs and you see little things here and there that should have been obvious. Bro’s cameras, phone tracking, online stalking, the stupid smuppets, pictures (oh god the pictures), harassment, expensive gifts to keep Dave quiet, just so much. Your friend had to go through it all alone and you wouldn’t let that happen again.
The first few years Dave was silent. He didn’t talk, didn’t do much. You had to help him do things sometimes and, as uncomfortable as it made you, you’d hear him cry at night, clinging to something he kept tightly to himself. You never did find out what it was because he managed to hide it all the time and you figured it was a stuffed animal. Probably the only thing that brought him comfort and it made him embarrassed. Rose did visit and they spoke for a long time but you saw Dave do much better after. Years passed and slowly Dave started coming out of his shell, enough that you both decided to apply for college.
You remember his smile, bright and sunny when he got his acceptance later for the Seattle Film School which you also joined because hey! You also like movies! And maybe you could keep an eye out for Dave because Rose said it could become a cycle of bad partners if you guys didn’t pay attention and, honestly, Dave has gone through enough to have someone hurt him like that again! And sure it’s a little weird to find out he’s bisexual because you can’t quite understand it, but it’s fine! You’ll support your bro no matter what!
So when you find the little piece of plastic tucked and hidden into his backpack, you feel that ugly knot from before come back with a vengeance.
"Dave... is this an airtag?" You ask, face already turning into a scowl.
"Huh. I guess it is." Dave replies, taking it from your hand and turning it over his palm. "Probably a leftover from Bro. But I passed everything I had through one of those big ass magnets so this thing's probably busted."
You don’t want to call your friend a liar, but you know for a fact Dave didn’t bring that much from his apartment. Whatever fit into a backpack and some trashbags like clothes, some of his dead specimens, and his laptop. Which means someone else has put this in there to track his every move.
"Dave... I don't think it's your brother’s." You try to counter, already starting to feel yourself getting defensive.
He crosses his arms and makes a face at you, the one he makes when he's about to make you feel kind of stupid because he's just a little more street smart than you are. But not by much!
"You're going to tell me this is from Gamzee aren't you?" He says, tone long suffering.
Gamzee Fucking Makara.
During this new semester, you’d been invited by Dave to a fancy frat party that he wanted to go network in. You hadn’t wanted to go but it turns out 90% of the film industry is networking. So after some promises of helping with your math homework (you do not understand Abstract Algebra and Dave does it like it’s nothing) you’d both dressed up and headed to the big mansion with its own damn postal code. Dave, of course, took to it like a fish and you sort of awkwardly stayed to the side. You should’ve said something. You should’ve stayed closer to him. But for once he was having fun without you and you looked away, literally, for a couple of minutes.
You’d come back excitedly to tell Dave you’d scored a date with a hot chick, Vriska, when you’d frozen in place at who he was talking to.
Gamzee Makara didn’t go to college. Instead he hung out around several colleges and tended to deal with all kinds of shit like weed, meth, crack, that kind of stuff. He didn’t care much for norms, he was a veritable asshole, and he wore an ankle monitor. The rumor mill said he’d killed someone and due to his family’s criminal influence they’d managed to lessen it down to some kind of community service while the house arrest was kind of loosey-goosey.
And he and Dave had been talking. Laughing. The asshole even offered him the disgusting Faygo he tended to favor and Dave had made a face after he’d sipped the red solo cup it had been offered in. Alarm bells had gone off and you’d tried to pull Dave away but even you could see it. Dave liked Gamzee. Like-liked him. And to your horror, they’d exchanged numbers and had been speaking since.
"Well, duh? Look, you’re my best friend and friends tell each other the truth. That guy is weird as fuck! He’s high all the time, he has that creepy smile, he stares at you every time you’re both side by side, and he dresses like a clown! Who willingly dresses like that? A weirdo that’s who!”
Dave sighs again with that stupid smirk-smile of his when he’s making fun of you. You glare harder. "John, I swear, it's fine. We’re just friends. I'll get rid of it with the degausser magnet, okay? Will that help? Will that soothe your poor, Egbertian, old biddy worries?"
You huff and cross your arms. "I’m being serious, Dave. There’s something about him that rubs me wrong even without the very obvious red flags! I mean, you can try to convince me or whatever, but this is a real airtag! It means he knows where you live!”
There’s that long suffering sigh again and he takes the little piece of plastic, going to his room and coming back with a weird looking box with a long triangle. He shows you both and passes the long, thin triangle over it.
“There. Now it’s useless. Problem solved.”
You give a sigh that doesn’t 100% soothe you but for some reason you kind of do feel better. “Alright. I’m going to buy a Ring camera anyway. Just in case!”
Dave snorts and rolls his eyes, languidly walking back towards his room. "I think you're over reacting, but if that's what you want."
“It is what I want!” You yell after him and grumble to yourself as you go online and start purchasing several cameras. You’re not going to let Dave get hurt by some stupid, killer clown.
♡ ‧₊˚ ‧₊°✧ ୨୧ P i c t u r e s ୨୧ ✧°₊‧ ˚₊‧ ♡
For a couple of weeks, things settle down. Not a lot, but they feel settled. You install the Ring cameras outside the shitty, little house you and Dave are renting close to campus and it calms your nerves slightly. Dave watches you the whole time, riffing and teasing you about your old lady nerves and you remind him you’re not the one with a weird clown guy crush.
You’ve tried to convince him time and time again that Gamzee is not a good person, that hanging out with him is a terrible idea but he always tells you the same thing.
"I'm a big boy, John. I can take care of myself."
You don't doubt that he can! But even as beefy and stocky as you are and as tall and lean as Dave is, Gamzee dwarves the both of you. Every time you hear about him it’s the worst rumors and theories, and every time you have the unfortunate pleasure to bask in his stupid, clownie presence you’re more convinced this guy is going to hurt Dave. But nothing happens after the airtag and slowly, you start to relax.
Until you find the picture.
A test is coming up and sometimes you and Dave tend to buy one book (or he found it online) and you both share it. When you look in his bookshelf, a little thing filled with all manner of photography, film, and graphic design references, you find the book you need and pull it out. Besides it is an old book Dave brought with him, one that’s actually a photo album he keeps private, and right besides that a slip of paper slides out and falls to the floor.
The first thing you see is the back.
dave
XX/XX/2026
cute
You don’t recognize the writing. Dave writes surprisingly neat and it’s very easy to recognize how he writes. But what makes your heart go up your throat is the back, where the picture is. It’s Dave, without his shades, in his pajamas. Asleep. Even in the picture, the room is dark and the only thing making it possible to see his features is the bright light of the camera’s flash. You recognize the sheets up to his chest, the one’s draped messily right now over his bed.
This is a picture of Dave, taken while he was asleep, right on his bed. Someone was in Dave’s fucking room!!
Speaking of, your friend walks in, raises a brow and crosses his arms. “Something you like in here, Egbert? Or are we gonna get in bed and cuddle?”
“Someone was in here!” You say, going towards him and showing him the picture. The surprise in his posture he can’t hide and it only throws you into Alert Mode. “Someone came in and took a picture of you, in bed! Asleep!I”
You can’t help the high tone in your voice. You look around his window but it’s locked and there’s a layer of dust there that hasn’t been disturbed at all.
“Well this is embarrassing.” He says, cheeks flushing and you turn to him, squinting.
“What do you mean?”
He gives a sigh and goes to get his camera, laying down on the bed and holding it close to his face. A quick flash later, he heads towards you and shows you the little screen. The picture looks exactly the same.
“Was trying to get some selfies for an assignment. A sort of self-portrait thing where we showed ourselves vulnerable. I really liked it so I was gonna add it to my album and. Welp. You found it.”
“Oh.” The fight fizzles out of you. Especially because Dave looks embarrassed as hell.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. Just.” You lamely show him the book. “Wanted to get this so I could study…”
“You sure found it.” Dave’s accent twangs and it only does that when you catch him unaware.
You both stand there awkwardly for a couple of seconds until you decide you can’t stand the silence anymore. “Welp! I found it! Ha ha! Gonna head off and study!”
“Sounds good.”
“Yup!”
You practically bolt out of his room, face beet red. That was so fucking awkward. You really need to calm down. It’ll be fine. Dave’s a smart guy and you’re probably worrying for nothing. Thank fuck the picture wasn’t some creepy stalker thing!
♡ ‧₊˚ ‧₊°✧ ୨୧ S o c i a l M e d i a ୨୧ ✧°₊‧ ˚₊‧ ♡
A couple of weeks later, you get the worst news of your life.
Dave is now dating Gamzee.
You have a gentleman’s disagreement. Which means you both yell at each other for a couple of hours. Dave insists it’s not so bad. You insist the guy is a juggalo and an addict on house arrest. Dave counters that he’s actually very sweet, attentive, and has a wicked sense of humor. You remind him he’s a fucking clown with a record! Dave asks you if you’re afraid of clowns and you tell him this has nothing to do with the situation at hand (you are, but again, doesn't matter!). There’s more yelling back and forth until you both get tuckered out and end up besides each other playing on a shitty Wii U Dave got for 30 bucks at a pawn shop.
“I’m just worried for you, Dave.” You finally admit, your green hat guy falling off the road with you cursing.
Dave’s dumb baby girl does a stunt, over where you fell, and he takes the lead. “I know man, but you gotta put some trust in me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not trying to make you feel like shit or nothing. Just. He’s very kind. I know he doesn’t seem that way, but he is. It feels like I can relax around him.”
You make a face as you try to rush and get first place, getting some of the little blocks and hissing in delight at the red shells you get. “I know, I know. Sorry. I don’t mean to be a nag but I mean. What with what happened with–”
“Don’t push it.” His tone comes out snapped and you know you’re getting to the delicate spot where it’s not wise to keep pushing.
You both keep playing a little longer and you manage to get Dave and a respectable third place. He groans and leans back as you fist pump with a cheery yes! But he does look at you for a little bit and sighs.
“Would you feel better if I tell you where I’m going?”
“Yes. Please? I just want to know you’re safe.”
“Okay, mom.” Dave jokes and you snort, pushing him and telling him to knock it off.
It’s so stupid but it does make you feel better.
He sends you updates when he goes on dates with Gamzee, Slowly his social media goes from very artsy and douchy posts with dumb “philosophy” quotes that he knows people suck up, to pictures of him and Gamzee at parties, events, and even one where you weren’t able to go to a premier of his but Gamzee was able to.
Your dad makes it Dave’s premier. You know Dave is especially fond of your dad because, well, he’s really dadly and Dave really needed that. He even brought Dave a bouquet of flowers and Dave is smiling for real in the picture. It makes your heart swell with your own pride and you send a quick message congratulating him again on his first successful student film festival! He’s going to be famous one day, you can tell!
You see the picture of your dad, Dave, and there's some surprisingly handsome guy with him. Maybe Dave gave up on Gamzee! Cause the tall guy with him has his arm around his waist and looks so much more put together than Gamzee ever has.
You apologize profusely the next day by making your dad’s famous brownies and all is forgiven. But he’d also known weeks in advance that you had something from your own projects due that day that you couldn’t skip.
“By the way, who’s the guy in the picture with you and dad? Is he someone you’re putting the moves on? He’d be waaaaaay better than Gamzee!”
Dave chokes on a brownie and then laughs out loud after. “John, that is Gamzee.”
You stare at him. He stares back. You grab your phone and stare at the guy in the post. Dave eats a brownie. Slowly, you see it. And then you really gawk.
“That’s Gamzee!?” You squawk and Dave chuckles around a mouthful of brownie.
“I’m not about to date someone who isn’t handsome, dumbass. How could you not see it under the paint? Bone structure, man.”
“I thought he was like Deadpool!”
“You what!?”
“You know! Like, deformed or something and that’s why he did the whole clown thing!”
“John how the fuck is he going to be like Deadpool!? His skin is fucking smooth! So, what, you think girls also wear weird, freaky, makeup masks that hide their faces!?”
“It’s not the same, Dave!”
“How is it not the same!? I don’t know shit about makeup but girls wear full face makeup like Gamzee does!” He squints at you, you can tell, even with the stupid douchebag shades you gave him, “Are you trying to tell me you think Rose is disfigured under her full goth makeup!”
“Shut up, Dave!”
He won’t stop teasing you and you’ve gone every shade of red there is. But he’s laughing. You still remember the ugly, blank look he had without his shades, sitting unmoving for hours on end. You thought you’d lost your friend and he’s here, right now, teasing you and making fun of you and you guess Gamzee isn’t too bad.
You’ll respect him and support him even if you still hate his stupid, clown boyfriend.
A few days later, while you’re watching some movies just for the fun of it and not one of the many assessment assignments you got (film is harder than you thought…), Dave comes into the living room and sits beside you, glaring at his phone.
He looks a little more spiffy than usual. Nice shirt, tights pants, sneakers (has he always had those), and even with some cologne on. You can smell it pretty easily. But that’s not what catches your attention. It’s how his brows are furrowed.
"What's up man?" You ask, trying to be a good, supportive friend.
"Gamzee's with his stupid, little friend." He says and you're surprised at how annoyed he sounds.
"You mean Karkat?" You chuckle. You'd met the guy once. He was super funny, shouty as hell! You'd have preferred Dave date that guy if he really had to date someone. "He's a funny guy! And I think him and Gamzee have been friends for a while."
You turn back to the movie and lower the volume a little because sure enough, you hear him sigh. "We were supposed to go on a date."
His shades are obscuring his expression but you can tell he's a little sad. Wait.
You beam. "Dave... are you jealous?"
He clicks his teeth and keeps scrolling. His leg is jumping as he keeps looking over his Instagram feed, something irritable in his posture. Then he smiles, relaxes.
"Pfft. He's a dumbass." It comes out fond.
You look over, peering over his shoulder. The entirety of his notification feed is
terminallyCapricious has liked your post!
And it keeps going over, and over, and over again.
You look at Dave with concern and he peers over at you with a huff. "John. C’mon, don't start."
"It's weird!" You burst out. You can't stop yourself! The whole of his feed is just Gamzee liking and reposting everything Dave’s posted. "He's liked all your Instagram posts–Dave please tell me you're not–"
You stop. Rose told you not to say it. She made you PROMISE you wouldn't. But you say it anyway. He has to hear it. "This isn't like Bro is it?" You hiss out in a stage whisper.
The temperature of the room goes cold. His eyes peer over his shades and for once, you feel... you feel something. Something that makes you anxious.
"Are you saying I'm like Bro?" Comes the question, ice-cold calm.
"What–No! I mean like, are you dating Gamzee because he–Y'know, he reminds you of Bro! It's like cycles of abuse and stuff!"
He sits up from where he was sprawled on the sofa and glares at you.
"You've been talking to fucking Rose haven't you?" He accuses and you sputter.
"No. I mean, yeah I talk to her all the time, duh! But she said sometimes abuse victims–"
"The fuck you call me!?" He snaps and your mouth slams shut. Shit. Rose did tell you not to call him that!
"Dave. Please. I just don't want you to get hurt again."
He gives a deep sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Just. Give me some slack, yeah? I know you’re worried and everything but this isn’t a big deal. Ain't I an attention whore? He just did it to cheer me up, John."
You've never heard of someone liking every single post of someone and bombarding them to cheer them up. You need to ask Rose more questions. You kind of make up but you're just. So fucking worried for him. It feels like Dave is diving headfirst to something dangerous and this time instead of not knowing, you’re just standing on the side watching him hurtling towards it. You told yourself you’d protect him and you feel kind of stupid and useless.
You don't know what to do or how to help but you're not gonna let this asshole harm Dave if you can help it.
♡ ‧₊˚ ‧₊°✧ ୨୧ L o v e B o m b i n g ୨୧ ✧°₊‧ ˚₊‧ ♡
The conversation with Rose is lengthy. She says she’ll keep a sharp eye on Dave and his social media as well and she teaches you new words and meanings. Cycles of abuse, adrenaline junkie, PTSD, anxious attachment, people-pleasing, boundaries and so forth. She also sends you some links to websites on what to do for someone when they don’t notice they’re spiraling into an abusive relationship.
She also threatens to travel to Seattle herself to keep a closer look on Dave but you reassure her that it won’t be necessary with everything she’s handed you. You can now see red flags pretty good! Plus, if Rose suddenly appeared on their doorstep you’re sure it would make Dave close right back up and it took years to have him back to being normal. You don’t want that!
You’re ready, you’re good, you are right there! And nothing else happens. Dave is in great spirits. His grades are improving from what he’s showing you, he has an active social life now and has even invited you to these amazing parties where he networks even more. Slowly, people are starting to know who Dave Strider is and you couldn’t be more proud of your friend. In video calls with your dad, he even smiles and gets bashful when he’s praised.
It’s going great really. Even with Gamzee in the mix.
The only thing you don’t like is when he packs a bag for the weekend and lets you know he’ll be staying over with him. You don’t approve at all but he leaves his location on his phone as visible, so you can see he goes to Gamzee's house and stays there until Monday when he comes back for class.
You know exactly what they’re doing when one Monday, after he’s back home, you see a smattering of bites and bruises all over Dave’s chest.
“Holy shit, Dave!”
He turns to you and you see even more bruises and bites. His face does go bright red. “Do you really want to ask?”
Your own face goes red. You actually do not want to ask Dave about his sex life with other guys. You just don’t get why he likes men. Guys like girls and sometimes guys like thinking about how it’d be like to be a girl, but that was normal. You’re still wrapping your head around Dave being bisexual. You shake your head and he snorts, going back to putting some clothes on.
You can’t help staring at some of the old scars that have begun to fade on his back, on his arms. He’d told you that his Bro would train him. You didn’t understand what for, and you still don’t, but if you could have done more you would have. You let it be. At least the wounds are consensual and not like with his brother.
His birthday comes and you have something ready, your dad is coming over to bake him a cake special just for him and–Holy shit. You freeze outside the house at the veritable mountain of delivery boxes. Dave is guiding someone who’s bringing them in on a hand truck dolly and you slowly approach, your gift suddenly seeming small and stupid. When he turns to you, he smirks.
“Gamzee heard I didn’t get that much on the gift department and said he was going to send me everything on my wishlist. Isn’t this amazing?” He says and he seems so pleased.
Gamzee has plans for after his birthday because he doesn’t want to get in between the little celebration you and your dad have for him. Worse, Gamzee also asked Dave to stay with him over winter break. Dave had been staying in the house on his own and now there’s a house sitter, and you feel like your friend is getting further and further away from you.
The party is small but you can tell Dave appreciates and enjoys it. Even with the mountain of expensive gifts he got, he prefers the little, stuffed bunny you got him and your dad’s home cooking, putting up a photo of the three of you on his social media and thanking you both verbally and online.
You have to say something. You have to stop him. You have to–
“You alright, son?” You jolt as your dad peeks into your room and comes in.
“Oh, uh, yeah I’m alright.” You lie.
But of course your dad can tell something isn’t right. He sits besides you and waits patiently. You tell him what’s been happening, about Dave dating some clown guy you’re sure is hurting him and your dad listens to your complaints. When you’re done, he doesn’t tell you it’s stupid. He tells you it’s normal to be worried about Dave. It makes you feel a little better that your dad isn’t just shrugging you off.
A few days later, you wave Dave goodbye as he gets picked up in some black, sleek car, Gamzee in the backseat as the chauffeur gets Dave’s bags. He hugs you tight and promises he’ll keep you posted. You and your dad wave goodbye and then you both finish packing so you can go home for now.
Dave promised your dad he was being safe. That has to count for something. It’ll be alright.
♡ ‧₊˚ ‧₊°✧ ୨୧ H a r r a s s m e n t ୨୧ ✧°₊‧ ˚₊‧ ♡
Winter break goes without a hitch.
Dave doesn’t upload to his social media but he sends you photos and texts you daily so it soothes your nerves. Your dad teases you a little and you go bright red because yeah, Dave’s your friend and you think you’re allowed to feel protective over him! You go back once it’s time to and find Dave there too, saying Gamzee had to go to his dad.
The first week back feels great. Dave yaps about the fancy beach Gamzee took him to and he you tease him about how burnt he is. A couple of days later, you go to see a superhero movie with him and Gamzee is there with his friends. No biggie. At the mall when you go to get a pack of cards, Gamzee works at the dumb CBD shop and Dave of course goes to visit. You go to Mickey D’s and no fucking joke, Gamzee is there eating a whole tray of fries with Karkat.
Then you both go to a cafe and wouldn’t you know, Gamzee is there too. You go to the library to study and surprise, surprise, it’s fucking Gamzee and you’re starting to get pissed off. You go to a park a few days later and now you know he’s fucking with you.
"Heeeeey motherfuckers. What all up and got ya around these parts?" Gamzee asks as you both approach him, another friend of his sitting close to him. You're trying so very hard not to glare and failing spectacularly.
"Hey stranger. Just coming around to hang out. What're you up to?" Dave teases and goes to him. You stay to the side awkwardly as they kiss and you grimace.
They talk a little back and forth, the friend of his interjecting and pushing him all friendly like and Gamzee frowns, for once. He tells him to stop it and you kind of just stand there. The day's a bust, in your opinion, so what the hell. You wave goodbye, even though Dave wants you to stay, and head back to the house. Your shitty car, old but faithful, takes you off and you start to mull things through.
The airtag, the picture, bombarding his feed, the excessive gifts, and now this, appearing everywhere you both go? How can anyone not see how blatant it is!? You're not sure how much longer you can take Dave's fake, nonchalant, cool guy shtick. He has to be nervous and scared. You're freaked out and it's not happening to you! How can he be so nonplussed?
You don't know what to do. An intervention maybe? Ask Jade and Rose to come up to Seattle? You're seriously considering it. Maybe you should talk to your dad instead. Sure Rose knew a lot about psychology and what happened when victims went back to people who could harm them like their past abusers did, but your dad has experience and wisdom a twenty something with a vague grasp of psychology wouldn't.
As you get home, you pick up the mail and look through it, furrowing your brows when you see something out of the ordinary. It's a post office note about something waiting for you in the mail. Not surprising, sometimes your dad sent you big packages and it was safer to leave them in the Post Office for you to pick up. You get back in your shitty car because you're not in the mood to stay home and make your way there.
The lady is as sweet and gentle as she’s been and hands you a heavily wrapped box. It’s the size of a shoe box but the massive amounts of wrapping has made it triple in size. It’s kind of stupid. It can’t be from your dad. He sent things neatly wrapped. You shrug and start tearing it open, pulling back layer after layer and then making a face when inside is just one thing. The color drains from your face and you feel nauseous, cold, and like someone is holding you tight by the throat.
It’s just a letter in an envelope.
From Bro Strider.
You should tear it apart. Throw it. Burn it! But the writing is neat and orderly, almost blocky like someone printed it out instead of writing it and your curiosity gets the best of you.
It's always gotten the best of you.
Opening the envelope, you take another second to hesitate before you read it.
Hey kid,
Of all people I know you're going to think this is the stupidest shit anyone could've written, seeing as you've stayed by Dave's side after all this time. I'm not going to sit here and sugarcoat shit. I fucked him over in more ways than one. But I'm also not gonna sit here and let my mistake harm others because Dave is still my responsibility.
He needs help. Real help. Not just people who are there for him and say they're there for him. I mean antipsychotics and probably fucking electroshock therapy. I ignored every little sign I saw and thought I could handle it on my own if I just did whatever he wanted. But he needs to be institutionalized. You don't know him. Not the real him. What he shows you every day isn't what he is at all–
You stop reading and tear the stupid letter apart with gusto.
You can't believe you even deemed to read it! Of course Dave needs help but he's not crazy like how Bro fucking Strider is! You tear and tear until there’s nothing but tiny pieces left and you jam them into the glove compartment with the parking tickets and other inane bullshit in there and drive home.
That was dumb. That was so dumb. Why in the world did you even open the stupid letter? What good could have possibly come from reading anything Bro Strider wrote? None! That’s what! You blast music on the speakers and make your way home.
It didn't matter. You're not going to think about it.
Except.
Except something is nagging at the back of your mind.
You love Dave as a brother. He’s a lot more fragile than people think and you remember how fragile he was back when he used to live with you and your dad. Sometimes he’d start screaming out of nowhere, just scream and scream and scream, his fingers digging into his arms to make himself bleed. You’d been terrified of those episodes and they’d faded the more time passed between his horrible ordeals and now.
Because if you’re being honest, even as your dad managed to soothe and calm him down, for some reason it nagged in the back of your skull that he wasn’t screaming out of fear.
He was screaming out of anger.
And sometimes, when Gamzee wouldn’t answer he’d go quietly to his room. Once, you’d peeked in and he’d been in the darkness, staring at the screen of the phone unblinking. He’d stayed sitting in a very uncomfortable position, eyes wide as he stared and stared. It’d made you… unsettled but you’d figured it was fine. Dave was practically stuck to his phone after all.
The skull Gamzee bought him is prominently displayed in his room and it always makes you uncomfortable but sometimes he carries it around in his arms when he has music on, the thing wrapped in red and purple ribbon like a beloved toy.
Other times you’ve seen his face turn into an ugly grimace when Karkat gets too close to Gamzee but you know it’s because Dave hasn’t had a partner before and really, it’s expected of him to be a little jealous and insecure!
…right?
You shake your head. You're not gonna let Bro's stupid letter get to you. Dave does need help but not like that. He needs you to be there for him and you’ll message your dad so he can also try and talk some reason into Dave. He’s always listened to your dad better.
You don't know him. Not the real him. The sentences repeat in your head over and over.
The real him.
It makes your stomach contract. It drives something cold down your shoulders, down your belly. It makes your leg bounce and your shoulders tense.
You don’t know him.
When you get back to the house you sit on the couch and rub your face. This is dumb. You’re letting some stupid letter that means nothing get to you. And it really shouldn’t, considering who’s the sender.
You hear a sound and look towards Dave’s room, brow furrowing. Wasn’t he with Gamzee? You check your phone. Yeah his app says he’s still at the park… You get up and head towards the bathroom but before you do, something in Dave’s room catches your attention.
His red room is on.
When you’d both moved in, Dave had taken the room with a walk-in closet and had modified it to be a red room, something he’d done back when he was with Bro, so he could develop his pictures on his own. But the door is open and so is the window. You close that first and peek into the room to see what pictures he’s got developing at the moment.
There's hundreds of pictures. All of them of Gamzee. You come in, heart ramming in your throat and feeling like something sharp and icy is lodged in your spine, shoulders tight as you come closer to see better under the terrifying red light.
Gamzee walking. Gamzee with his friends. Gamzee in class. Gamzee walking alone in the middle of the night. Gamzee sleeping. Over and over and over, sometimes clear shots, sometimes through shrubbery. In the worst ones it's obvious it was through a pane of glass or drapes for privacy. One, especially, makes you freeze.
You recognize the bracelet on the wrist in the picture. Dave kept it from Bro. He'd said it was the only thing he kept to remind himself of what he'd gone through. Keep himself vigilant. It wouldn't be a bad picture if not for the box cutter in Dave's hand covered in blood and a chest just as bloody that says
D A V E
You stumble back and hear something again. In the bathroom? You need to get out. But then you hear cussing and some ugly, wet pop that you don't want to see. Curiosity has always gotten the best of you.
You grab the baseball bat you keep in the hall just in case and slowly open the bathroom door.
The bathroom was the one reason you'd both decided to choose this house, even with the shitty ventilation and the abysmal neighborhood. It was bigger and had a nice claw foot tub. And right now, every part of it was covered in tarp and plastic because there's a veritable bloodbath. Someone in a black hoodie and black pants drops a leg into a black trash bag. The smell of iron is overwhelming and from here you can see bone and flesh curled like raw meat. You stay frozen in place, giving a sharp gasp that makes the guy turn around.
Dave freezes as he stops sawing the other leg off.
You both stay there, unmoving and slowly, Dave’s free, gloved hand raises. “John. I need you to hear me out.”
You don't even have the time to scream as you're hit on the back of the head and everything goes black.