Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re alone in the house when you hear it.

Rose is out, on another date with Kanaya. Dave’s at a movie night sleepover with his buddies John and Karkat. Roxy’s working a shift down at the Eightball Bar, downtown, and won’t be back until gone two am.

So you’re all on your own, in the big empty house that your parents’ money bought. You think about dicking around on the internet, maybe calling Jane, until you remember that she's at work and won't be able to answer you.

So, fuck it, you decide you might as well spend some time with the cats. You end up with Mutie sat on your lap in the upstairs living room, watching terrible Westerns. You’re halfway through Wild Wild West when you hear it.

The sound of water moving, coming from the bathroom. You groan, gently extract Mutie from your lap (and his claws from your knees) and go to check it out.

“Dave, if you left the water running, I swear--” you mutter to yourself, and then stop dead in the doorway.

In the water, floating face up, is what looks like a dead body. Thank fuck you have good control over your bladder, because you nearly fucking wet yourself at the sight.

The body’s eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling, and you jump backwards when they blink, slowly, as though sleepwalking. Holy shit. Holy shit, that is an alive person in your tub. You walk forward, slowly and gently, because this doesn’t seem like the real life and it doesn’t seem like fantasy. It seems like some kind of crazy dream you’ve started to have because Mutie’s fur was laced with cocaine or something.

“Hey there, buddy, you one of Dave’s friends?” you ask, slowly, keeping your voice as even as you can manage. “Or Rosie, maybe. Roxy, even. Buddy. Do you read me?” 

He doesn’t respond, but just floats there, in your bathtub, still staring up at the ceiling. 

Your mystery boy is fully dressed, wearing a long-sleeved purple top that matches the deep violet streak in the middle of his Malfoy-blonde hair. He’s even wearing some blue-striped converses, and just staring, staring up at the ceiling. You come to the conclusion that he’s not gonna respond, and sigh.  Whoever’s friend he is, you can’t leave him to drown, so you say a small mental ‘fuck it’ and scoop him out of the water gently, one arm under his knees and one arm under his shoulders. It doesn’t take too much to lift him up - he’s a skinny little fucker - and you get to the door and look back to make sure you haven't left anything.

The water that surrounded him has vanished, the tub now as dry as bone.

* * * 

Whatever Twilight Zone shit is going on, you know your first aid, and before you let yourself freak the fuck out over this fully, you sort out the dude. You judge him to be around Dave's height, even if he's skinnier, so you stick him on the couch and pad him with towels to warm him up, and go to Dave's room. You get him a change of clothes, and try to calm your breathing. 

You try to get him to change himself, but he's still in that weird, wide-eyed state, so you take off his wet shoes, socks, top, and jeans (although you preserve his modesty, because god knows if it was you in this situation you'd kill anyone who so much as touched your boxers) and exchange them for a clean top and jeans. You walk down to the laundry room and sling the wet things in the basket, because those you can deal with later. Right now, you need to find out what the hell is going on.

When you get back, he's still lolling there, face blank as a sheet. You sit down on the chair next to the couch.

"So, dude. Mind telling me your name?" You pat his face. "Hey. Buddy. I'm talking to you."

He opens his mouth, and a weird little crooning sound escapes, soft and lilting. No words, just a melody.

Great. Just great. Creepy random dude not only appeared from a magical bathtub, but doesn't talk. You sigh and pat his wet hair.

"Take your time." You switch the TV back on, and sit, waiting for him to respond. It's an hour later when you realise he's fallen asleep, Mutie peering up at him with big, curious eyes.

Well, shit. 

Now you can freak out.

"What the actual fuck. What the fuck?" You spring up. "A bathtub? Really? A magical bathtub, that's what we apparently have, that spits out Draco lookalikes at the drop of a hat. And of fucking course I'm alone in the house."

As soon as you say that, you regret reminding yourself that you're alone in the house with a mysterious, unconscious stranger, and the Bathtub of Lovecraftian Properties. You immediately pull out your phone and call Dave. He doesn't pick up. You swear, and ring him again. This time, he picks up, and he's pissed.

"Hey, dude, what the hell--" 

"Get your ass back home now."

"What? No. Dude, it's movie night and--"

"Bring it here. Dave, I swear, get your ass home now."

He tries to speak, and you cut him off again.

"If the next word out of your mouth isn't yes, then I'm selling your turntables to the nearest kid. We have a Code Red here, Dave."

He stays silent, and sighs.

"It better be real fucking important, Dirk, or I'm burning your computer." He hangs up before you can say anything more.

Next to you, mystery kid is shivering, so you gingerly sit on the towels and lean him against you. He's pretty cold, actually. You don't want Dave coming home to a body, not after all that shit he went through before, and so you start gently rubbing the guy's arms. You need to get this kid warm so he doesn't die of hypothermia.

He opens his eyes again, and looks right at you. He's got quite long lashes, which somehow make the slow blinking even worse.

"Kid. Kid, tell me your name."

He just stares, unfocused now, and closes his eyes, slumping back against you. You want to scream in frustration, but instead you work on warming him up, rubbing his feet with a towel to make sure they don't go too cold. Eventually, his body temperature starts to rise again and you move him away from you. He's not really responsive, but you can tell he's breathing. 

Mutie, peering up at you still, seems a little spooked. The hair on his back is going up, just slightly, and as you reach out to pet him, he lets out a tiny mew, the sort a kitten would. He doesn't let you pick him up until you move back to the chair, and even then he's obviously jittery. Jesus, if this is a horror movie, you'd be the first person to die.

* * *

Dave enters the house alone, pissed and ready to take it out on you.

"Kankri Vantas. That's who drove me home, you piece of --"

And then he sees the kid on the sofa, and your unshaded eyes. Your sunglasses lay on top of the TV.

"Who's that?" he asks, slowly.

"I don't know. Hear me out, Dave, but he just..." You want to word this right, but there's no book of etiquette on how to say shit like this, so you just opt for the truth, no fancy phrasing whatsoever.

"He appeared in our bathtub."

Dave steps back, and looks at you like you're nuts - head tilted back, putting space between you and him.

"That shit doesn't make any sense. What do you mean, he appeared in our bath tub?"

You can tell this is going to be a long day, so you instead wake up the kid. He lets out a gentle crooning sound, and looks around.

"Are those my fucking clothes, Dirk? Is this a prank? Is that a one-night-stand, because it better not be, or I'm making a bonfire with all of your shit." He watches as you poke the dude in the shoulder.

"Look at me. Hey, look at me."

Creepy Dude just stares blankly ahead, and Dave stares at him, stepping closer as if fascinated. 

"Oh, we're so fucked." He waves a hand in front of the guy's face, to no response. "Is he blind?"

"Nope." You move a finger side to side in front of Sleepy McCreepy's face, and watch his pupils wearily follow it. "Look at that. He can see it. He's just not responding to it."

"And you said he appeared in the bathtub?" Dave looks towards the bathroom. "Dude, if I die, avenge me."

"What--"

He's gone, running down the hallway to the bathroom, and yelps in surprise. 

"Dave!" You spring upwards, and you're halfway across the room when he calls back.

"I'm okay. There's just like...this old scarf thing in the bathtub?" 

"What? No there's not. There's no scarf thing."

"Uh, yeah, there is." He comes out carrying it. It's blue and grey, and kind of tatty. It reminds you of Roxy's one, but you don't have time for theorising as your mystery guest rises from the sofa, eyes fixed on the scarf.

"So...this wasn't here when he appeared?" Dave asks, quietly, as the guy starts walking towards him, slow as a zombie. You shake your head, watching him walk towards your baby brother, and start calculating the distance between here and your room, where you keep your katana.

Dave holds it out, at arm's length, and the guy takes it with a soft, childish smile. He wraps it around him, pulling it up to his nose and sniffing it. You see the flash of a name label on it, and reach out, fascinated, to take hold of the end. The guy pays you no attention.

"Ari--Eni--" You squint, and then make out the name, reading it aloud.

"Eridan Ampora."

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it does seem like you and Dirk are pretty irresponsible with this whole thing, because as far as you’re aware people usually call the cops in these situations. They don’t continue watching movies and testing out how far someone is responsive after said someone allegedly showed up in your bathtub and then made all the water disappear.

The trouble is, your parents are kind of rich, and your...well, your technical dad is kinda famous in all the wrong parts of the internet. If this kinda shit surfaces in the house he and your mom bought for you guys, after you rang Dirk that one time when sparring on the roof went wrong, shit’s gonna go down. Bro likes to keep out of the spotlight unless he’s in charge of where it goes.

That’s the unspoken thing between you and Dirk as you take turns saying the guy’s name. He doesn’t respond, just sits there in your clothes with his scarf wrapped firmly around him, but he can definitely see what’s going on around him. It’s weirdly creepy, and then you hit on the bright idea of introducing yourself.

“Dude, hey. I’m Dave, this is Dirk.”

He blinks at each of you in turn, following your finger as you point it at your brother.

“What the shit, Dave?” Dirk asks, almost amused. You point at yourself.

“Dave.”

His eyes almost flicker slightly.

“Dirk.” You point.

“Eridan.” 

You point at him, and then nearly jump out of your chair when he slowly nods, as if confused.

“Did you see that?” you ask Dirk, in a whisper-shout. Dirk sighs heavily.

“Yeah, your Me-Tarzan-You-Jane shit actually worked, but dude. He still only understands that that’s his name, right? Didn’t see him nodding when you were gesturing around at me like your fingers are guns and you just robbed a bank.”

Eridan’s hair is starting to curl as it’s dried, into fluffy blonde ringlets. You wonder why he’s got that streak of purple, but you’re not exactly expecting him to answer if you asked.Instead, you reach over and prod it with a finger.

He lets you, but Dirk’s frowning at you.

“That’s not cool, Dave. You’d be mad if it was you and someone poked your shades.”

He’s got a point, but you still feel a little like doing it again. 

“So, what’s the plan, man? Does he just, I don’t know, live here now?” 

Your big brother sighs. “Well, until I can figure out what sort of Twilight Zone fuckery this is, I think he can stay in the spare room near your room. I mean, unless you want to go all Stranger Things on this and have him sleep in a pillow fort in the basement, in which case that still isn’t happening because the basement’s mine.”

“It’s not yours,” you point out. “You just keep your shit there.”

“”My point still stands. He can stay in the spare bedroom and we at least have his name.”

“Have you ever heard of anyone called Ampora, though? And are they even going to believe how he turned up here? Everyone’s going to think we kidnapped him, Dirk. If we can’t go to the police, is your idea any better?”

“No, it’s not. I’m not really looking for his folks, Dave. I want to find out who he is. I’ll get on it tomorrow.” Dirk turns. “Eridan?”

It doesn’t work. Eridan has gone back to how he was, and you both groan and turn away.

“You know,” Dirk says, conversationally, “he could just be ignoring us and we’d never even know.”

“Or he could be ignoring you,” you snipe back, pulling your phone out and pulling up Discord to chat to Karkat and John.

“Hey, Dave. Don’t do that when we’re talking.” Dirk tries to say more, but you stand up and walk off to your room.

You find the drawers where you keep your clothes have wet handprints on, and have been left open, so you shut them and continue to chat to your friends. You apologise - explain that your brother needed some help with something and you’re sorry you had to leave. John says no problem, and Karkat tells you to eat a bag of dicks. 

Sigh.

turntechGodhead: kitkat can you cool it for like five seconds

carcinoGeneticist: NO I WILL NOT ‘COOL IT’, YOU DOUBLE CROSSING RAIN CHECKING PIECE OF GARBAGE.

turntechGodhead: it was unavoidable dude

carcinoGeneticist: I WILL PISS ALL OVER YOUR MINECRAFT HOUSE

Which, you guess, is as close to an ‘it’s okay’ you’ll get from Karkat tonight, seeing as it was his night to pick movies and he wanted you all to watch the ‘CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE THAT IS 27 DRESSES’. You do kind of feel like you’d have enjoyed hanging out with him instead of dealing with Straight Outta Lovecraft in the living room, but at the same time, man you dodged a bullet there. To you, all rom-coms blend together, and Karkat’s grimly convinced he can get you and John to enjoy them as much as he does, which is just doomed to fail, frankly.

Karkat, John, and you have all been best friends since you were thirteen. You and John, already friends, were fascinated to hear Karkat screaming at his friend, Gamzee Makara, in what was actual pure unadulterated rage, none of that fake shit that Hollywood tried to sell. You can’t even remember what he was saying, but you do remember that it lasted ten minutes, because you timed it.

Karkat was not pleased that you timed it, and called you a ‘WASTE OF THE TIME IT TOOK YOUR PARENTS TO PROCREATE AND FOR YOUR MOTHER TO GESTATE LONG ENOUGH TO SPIT YOU OUT OF HER DOWNSTAIRS INTO THIS ALREADY-SUFFERING WORLD’. It was the best insult you’d ever gotten, and John actually had to hold you up, you laughed so hard, which made matters worse with Karkat.

You and John agreed that night that the little ball of rage who you’d met was most definitely worth making friends with. Every time you tried, you failed, until you struck on the subject of movies. Karkat, bless his angry little heart, loved movies. You had wildly different tastes, but when you got into arguments after that, it was generally well-meaning ones. It did mean that you spent a lot more time around his tall, unnerving juggalo friend than you would have liked, but now you’ve been best friends for four years. You know each other pretty well.

Recently, you and Karkat hang out a bit more than you and John do. It’s not that you don’t want to or try to hang out with John, but tonight was the first time in a while that he hasn’t been busy. You tried to invite him with you and Karkat the other week, and Karkat seemed upset he wasn’t there, but you didn’t know how to bring that up without seeming like an asshole.

John’s kinda been weird for a while, now, though. He and Karkat disagreed over something, but refused to talk about it with you. It’s been about six months and John’s starting to pull away. You wish that John actually would talk about things, sometimes, but one of the reasons you guys made friends in the first place was that you both bottled shit up and thought it was cool. A lot of the things you said, you now cringe at, but you still would consider John to be a good friend.

But how do you even begin to talk about something like that? Or, indeed, something like Bathy McBath Face? You don’t know if you should tell John, who’s essentially like Steve Rogers about this. Because you know for a fact that he’d tell the police immediately, or worse, his dad.

“Man.” You sigh, and then go to private message with Karkat.

turntechGodhead: hey so can i talk to you 

carcinoGeneticist: IF YOU GO ALL WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN ON ME ABOUT JOHN AGAIN 

carcinoGeneticist: I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU TALK TO HIM

turntechGodhead: ffs kitkat

turntechGodhead: just because i want to discuss something with you about john 

carcinoGeneticist: TONIGHT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD AND YOU BAILED

carcinoGeneticist: I WAS HOSTING SO HE WENT HOME 

turntechGodhead: what

carcinoGeneticist: IT’S NOT THAT WE AREN’T FRIENDS BUT HE DOESN’T WANT TO HANG OUT WITH JUST ME 

carcinoGeneticist: IF YOU’RE NOT THERE AS A BUFFER HE FEELS WEIRD 

turntechGodhead: you know what 

turntechGodhead: its been like six months and you still havent told me what you guys fought over 

carcinoGeneticist: BECAUSE IT’S STUPID AND I DON’T WANT TO 

turntechGodhead: but why 

carcinoGeneticist: I’M NOT TELLING YOU AND IF YOU ASK AGAIN I’LL GO OFFLINE, DIPSHIT.

turntechGodhead: dont make me be problem sleuth over this 

turntechGodhead: or ask your brother 

carcinoGeneticist: OH YEAH, HOW WAS YOUR RIDE HOME?

turntechGodhead: how you havent killed him yet and buried him beneath the patio is a mystery to me

carcinoGeneticist: HE’D LECTURE ME FOREVER AS A GHOST 

turntechGodhead: good point well made

carcinoGeneticist: ANYWAY I BETTER GO CLEAN UP THE MESS

carcinoGeneticist: IT BETTER HAVE BEEN A REALLY FUCKING GOOD REASON TO BAIL, STRIDER.

turntechGodhead: it was trust me

He doesn’t reply, and you spend a small amount of time agonising over that. Karkat is reasonably pissed at you, and you’re a little bit pissed that John bailed the second you went home. Thirteen year old John Egbert would have denounced that kind of thing. He would have said that best buds stick together.

But he’s not sticking with either of you, and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why.

Chapter Text

After Dave fucks off to his room, leaving you alone with Eridan, you move to sit next to him on the sofa.

“So, that’s my little brother. I reckon you’re probably near his age, but who the hell knows.”

Eridan still doesn’t even look like he’s heard you. Well, this is pointless. You eventually leave him to it, focusing instead on what’s playing on the TV. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was never your favourite, although for some reason, Roxy and Jane love it. They insist it’s not Howard Keel who does it for them, but you have your suspicions. It could be the music, but the fact that the plot’s pretty dubious anyway kind of makes it eh for you.

Millie, who’s the size of a goddamn toothpick, starts singing about when you fall in love and you scoff. Eridan does look at you hazily, then, like he’s confused, and you gesture at the TV.

“See, this is bullshit. She met him, what, that morning? He went into town and got a wife, and she’s mad because he’s treating her like a housekeeper, but instead of sticking to her guns about that, she’s saying it’s all to do with being in love. Why’s it always love in these things? Why can they never be like, I like you, you’re hot, we should bone?”

You don’t expect a reply, but you get one. Kind of.

Because he begins humming ‘Bless Your Beautiful Hide’, and then actually fucking looks at you.

“Yes?” you hazard, and he nods, and begins humming it again.

Well, fuck. You think you kind of understand him.

“See, in that one,” you start, “he’s clear about what he wants, at least. He’s saying that he wants a wife who’s like that. He’s not on about love. She’s got some wild expectations for someone who does chores for a living. I mean, you gotta have some kind of escape from that sort of thing, but really, something that don’t really happen that quickly? Seriously. She’s supposed to be a sensible character.”

Eridan’s still humming that song, and you doubt he comprehends much of what you’ve been saying. You guess you’re not going to get any sense out of him. He does, however, actually seem to be watching this movie – at least when they’re singing. You decide to just take that as a good sign.

However, when the movie ends, he’s still humming it. And now that you’ve been listening to it, you’re picking up some little things that weird you out. There’s almost like a slight reverberation coming from him every time, like a bit of an echo whenever he’s humming. Maybe you’re just imagining it, though. You sure to fuck hope so. This kid turning up like he did has maxed out your daily dose of weird.

As the ads come on, you stand up, and gesture for him to follow you. He doesn’t seem to know what you mean, so you pick up his wrist and tug at his arm until he stands, almost unsure, but letting you lead him along the corridor past the bathroom, past Dave’s room, and along to the big cream spare bedroom with the single bed. Your mom was the one who picked it out and decorated it, but you guys so rarely have guests who aren’t content to stay in your rooms when they do visit that it’s been used precisely once, at New Year’s when Dave and Rose had a party with all their friends and the friends’ plus ones. You can’t even remember which of them crashed here, actually.

Eridan looks around, confused, and you lead him to the bed, letting go the moment he sits down.

“Dude, until we find out who you are, you gotta have somewhere to sleep, okay? So here’s as good a place as any. This can be your room, okay?”

He doesn’t understand, so you sigh, and gesture around. “Eridan.”

He shakes his head, slowly, with a strange look on his face. Well, fuck, you’ve got nothing at this point. You walk away, and go to close the door, only to find he’s followed you.

“No, dude. This is your room for the minute. C’mon.” You try to close the door, and something like panic flits across his face, and he catches hold of the doorknob, preventing you. Well, shit. You sigh, letting him follow you out.

“I promise I’m trying to be nice here, my dude. You’ve got to sleep somewhere.”

He doesn’t seem to listen, following you as you walk to the stairs. Obviously, his mood’s lightened, because he’s humming again.

You reckon that by the end of the day, you’re going to get real tired of ‘Bless Your Beautiful Hide’.

He ends up sitting with you in the basement, with his scarf still wrapped around the lower half of his face. You’re not hungry, but you do keep a little fridge and snack cupboard down here for when you have to work overnight on something, so you get out a cola and some chips, and set it down in front of him, opening the bottle for him first.

Then you set to work on your computer. You say work. You’re actually editing the entire My Secret Unicorn series for Jane’s Christmas present. It’s ridiculously easy to parody. Twilight the Secret Unicorn is now working for the mafia, and Lauren is his cover story. The actual series makes your brain hurt, and honestly, Mafia Twilight is a big improvement to the whole thing. Jane’s gonna fuckin’ love it.

Eventually, you decide your creative juices need Cheetos as much as Eridan does, but you look over to find the bottle and the chip packet both empty. Eridan is looking very wide eyed, and as soon as you look at him, begins humming again.

“That was quick,” you say, and check the time. You’ve been down here about two hours. Shit. You guess it wasn’t that quick, actually. You should also probably give the kid some water, and not just sugary pop, or he’ll dehydrate. You save the document, stand up, and start walking up the stairs. You know instinctively that Eridan’s already playing duckling behind you.

The giant kitchen is empty, and you get him a glass of water. He drinks it as soon as you hand it over, and you lean against the counter.

“So, you can eat and drink. That’s…useful.”

He looks at you, and then again. Jesus. There were so many songs in that movie. Why is that one the one he’s latched onto? He seems pretty happy, but it’s kind of like having a kid in front of you who’s in love with Let It Go. You can appreciate that they like it, but it’s getting real old, real fast.  You sigh, and start walking upstairs.

He'll probably follow you if you try going to your room, so instead, you stop by there and pick up your laptop and the sleeping bag from under your bed while he watched you with confusion. You then head up to the spare room where he’ll be staying, and set up a little camp for yourself at the foot of the bed.

“Go on.” You point at the bed, and he sits down on it. You sigh. Close enough, you guess. At least he’s not humming.

You'd judge it to be about an hour before you hear the front door open downstairs, and someone walking around. A car with a soft engine that you know to be Kanaya’s buzzes out of the drive softly. Rose is back, then. And that brings you to a big problem.

Dave experienced the weird shit, kind of, and he does believe you, but you don’t really know how to tell Rose. The moment where you might have told her has passed, and now you have a situation that’s kind of…weird. Even just as to why you have a teenager following you around, that’s weird. You get the feeling that the truth wouldn’t be taken well.

But you could tell Roxy, which means it would be unfair to leave Rose out of it. You sigh heavily, and look over to see Eridan asleep on top of the covers, his scarf in his hands like it’s a damn comfort blanket.

The trouble is, someone loved this kid enough at one point to sew his name into his scarf. Whatever magic bullshit has happened to him, it can’t have been good. You’re not going to pretend like magic stuff’s always good. If magic was good, well, it wouldn’t have dumped him in your care. You’re possibly the worst person to look after anyone, least of all yourself.

Still, you get up as soon as you hear the door to Rose’s room close, and lift the blanket at the end of the bed over Eridan. He murmurs, and clutches his scarf closer, and you try not to think too much on what could have happened to him.

Because he’s real. Whether he’ll still be real in the morning is anyone’s guess, but right now, there’s a kid here who needs someone, and even if you are the worst sort of person who has no business taking care of anybody, you’ll be damned if you just stand by.

Chapter Text

You swear silently as you log off the computer. Fuck this. Fuck this, you never wanted to be doing this. You never wanted to be lying to Dave, of all people, no more than you wanted to be arguing with John.

It’s his fault, this whole thing. He was the one who started it, but that sounds so playground even in your own head that it echoes back in a mocking voice. You’re seventeen, not seven. How come you’re still clinging to this ideal of who started what? You’ve got equally dirty hands in this thing.

You’ve both settled into this norm of acting fine around Dave, even though you know the sunglasses doofus isn’t dumb enough to think everything’s fine and dandy. But you can’t ever forgive John for what he did and for what he said he’d do, and he can’t find it in his heart to think he might be wrong. You’re glad he left when he did. You’re glad he had to cycle home, too.

The door opens and you groan.

“Karkat, dinner will be in fifteen minutes. Please wash your hands and be at the table promptly.” Your big brother looks down his nose at you. God, if that isn’t the cherry on top of the fuck you cake.

“You know, I’m tempted to just sit here naked one day so you learn to fucking knock.”

“That would be unsanitary for your chair,” he says primly, eyes narrowed. “Also, if you did that, I might become disinclined to give your friends lifts home.”

“You fucking offered. No one asked.”

“It’s polite,” he snaps back at you. You reach your leg out and kick the door shut in his face, hearing a very gratifying squawk.

He slams it back open.

“Karkat Vantas, that was rude and unnecessary and offensive!” he screeches. You pretend not to hear him, and sniff the air.

“Smells like something’s burning. Is it….is it the one fuck I don’t give? Or is it your cooking?”

He practically growls as he slinks back to the kitchen. It’s not like you’re even hungry, after all, and Kankri’s cooking is abysmally bland. He overcooks potatoes until they’re just round lumps of almost mash, and serves them with watery gravy and unidentifiable meat. You don’t plan on turning up.

Someone knocks at the door five minutes later, and you sigh. Always with the bothering you and the not fucking off.

“Yes?” you ask, and your dad opens the door.

“Kankri says you’re being a pest. Do you plan on coming to supper?”

“No. He’s being insufferable.”

“Karkat, don’t insult your brother in front of me, or I’ll make you help out at the bake sale this Sunday.” Your father is harsh but fair, to be quite honest. You groan and stand up.

“His cooking sucks, I’m not eating it, and he’s honestly been a total dick already tonight. What’s bitten his ass, anyway?”

“I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think he’s fallen out with someone. He keeps checking his phone and jumps every time the house phone goes.” Your father sighs. “It would have been so much easier if he’d learnt how this works when he was a teenager.”

“He only barely hung around with Porrim anyway.” You raise your eyebrows. “Do I have to eat?”

“You don’t have to eat, but you do have to join us at the table. I’m not having you refuse the family meal, Karkat.”

The bake sale looms unspoken behind him as he looks at you. Fuck.

Kankri is noticeably jumpy as you sit down to not-eat. His plate has what might be peas, the horrifying potatoes, and what you think might be beef. His phone is visible in his pocket.

Your father leads grace, and you mutter along with it, Kankri saying it with his eyes shut. You’re never quite sure if he’s real or posing with that one, but you don’t want to fall out with him again. As soon as his eyes open, he gives you a smug look, too quickly for your father to catch, and begins cutting into his meat.

You sip at your Pepsi and your father clears his throat.

“So, boys. Anything new for discussion?”

Kankri, for once, shakes his head, and looks back down at his plate. You shrug.

“Well, I have some exciting news for both of you. The shelter were asking if we would take on a cat, as I work closely with them anyway, and tomorrow, he’ll be dropped off here.” He beams at the two of you. “I wanted to tell you together, but—”

“A cat?” you chorus, together. Kankri is blanching, but you’re genuinely kind of interested.

“Yes, although it won’t be a kitten. They’ve had some trouble fostering one of their older cats – he doesn’t get on with young children, and likes relative peace and quiet. Miss Leijon says that she thinks this would be the perfect environment for him. As long as you two don’t spook him, he should be perfectly happy here.”

“Well, he might be, but father, the fur will get everywhere!” Kankri looks genuinely put out. “The fur! Oh, and if he’s got fleas from the shelter—”

“He hasn’t, Kankri, so you don’t need to worry. All the Safe Haven cats are checked and cared for, you know that, or we wouldn’t affiliate with them.” Your father smiles a small, soppy smile. “Don’t you want to get to know him before you pass judgement?”

“Hell yes.” You try not to grin. “Have you got any pictures?”

Your dad fumbles with his phone, and produces a picture of the ugliest black cat you’ve ever seen. He’s got an eye scarred so badly it’s almost shut, tattered ears, and a look on his face that tells you exactly how much he hates the world and specifically, whoever was taking the picture.

You fall in love instantly with this goddamn cat.

His name is Jack. Your father is absolutely smitten with him already, and shows you excitedly the small scratch on his hand where Jack swiped at him.

“I spooked him, though. I think it was an accident.”

You’re not so sure, but Kankri is already manically talking about how you all better be up to date on your tetanus shots, because he’s almost certain you’ll need to be if the cat bites you. Your dad, you’re quick to notice, seems extra enthused about getting a pet for a man who had to rescue a hamster from the innards of a computer when you were about ten. Maybe it’s just something about Jack, though. Jack’s kind of got the vibe of having a personality not even a mother could love that makes you want to be his best friend.

Kankri tries to passive aggressively stab a potato, but they’re so overcooked it just sort of…gently mushes to pieces. He picks up his phone instead, and begins texting very quickly. Huh.

“Porrim’s not going to care,” you say, and he goes a bit pink.

“Why do you assume that my social circle consists of Porrim and Porrim only?” he snarks, and goes back to typing rapidly. Probably telling all his friends on Reddit how unfair his life is, where his dad gets a new pet and his sibling wants privacy. Shock. Horror. Gasps all round from the fruity rumpus asshole factory that is the unadulterated internet.

Still, you’re pumped, and as soon as dinner’s over, you let your dad show you all the cool stuff he picked up for Jack at the pet store. A little grey collar with fish on it, some catnip toys, and a very luxurious looking cat bed you’d bet your last buck he’s never going to use. Fuck yeah. You’re getting a cat.

Chapter Text

Your date might have you on seventh heaven, but it doesn’t affect your keen sense of observation. When you get in, no one is waiting up, which is genuinely strange, but you don’t really pay much attention to it, instead going to the window to watch Kanaya’s tiny jade-green car zip away, smiling softly as you watch her leave.

So, the next morning, you walk downstairs, fully expecting one of your brothers to be eating the last of the cereal. Dirk in particular is known to be guilty of this, but instead the box is half full.

“Curioser and curiouser,” you muse aloud, helping yourself to a bowl of Cookie Crisp. Perhaps Dirk pulled an all-night stint, but Dave—oh, wait. No, you forgot. Dave is over at Karkat’s house for a movie night. Although you think that might be awkward, given how strange John has been acting. At one point, he stopped messaging you, and though he’s resumed doing so now, it’s very hesitant and almost forced.

You won’t lie, it makes you sad. John and Dave might be best friends, but honestly, John, Jade, yourself, and your brother have made up one of the best friendship groups you’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of. You used to have Harry Potter marathons as children, and now that you’re approaching adulthood, you’d hoped something along the lines of John being godfather to the many cats you plan to adopt with Kanaya someday. But it looks like it’s not to be, sadly.

You think you have an inkling what happened, but you know that sometimes it’s best not to kick certain nests of wasps (or spiders, as that may be). Upsetting the applecart wouldn’t be helpful to anyone.

All this makes for very sad morning musing, though, so you clear your mind and concentrate on your breakfast. A good breakfast is a very important start to the day, and you might as well make hay while the sun shines, or rather, steal the Cookie Crisp in Dave’s absence.

Thusly, you are thoroughly surprised when a yawning Dave makes his way into the kitchen in his pyjamas, stumbling across to the counter.

“Mornin’, Rose,” he mumbles at you, grabbing two bowls and pouring the remainder of the Cookie Crisp into each.

“David.” You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you were home.”

Something flashes across his face – regret, maybe – and he shrugs, pouring milk on top of the cereal and sticking a spoon in each.

“Maybe I’m an illusion.”

“Illusions tend not to finish off the last of Cookie Crisp. Yet again, might I add.”

He grins. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“That particular worm better be restocked before tomorrow. Take some money out of housekeeping and go shopping, would you? Dirk’s probably low on Cheetos again anyway.” You smile sweetly and he groans.

“Rose. C’mon. Don’t assign me chores before I’ve even eaten, that’s just gross.”

“It’s not even a big shop, David. I’ll write up what we need and you can go get it this afternoon?” you suggest, and he ignores you, heading out with the two bowls. One must be for Dirk, you suppose, because even Dave isn’t stupid enough to eat the last of the Cookie Crisp without letting Dirk have some as well. That’s how wi-fi passwords get changed in this house.

The sleepover must not have gone so well, however, if he’s back. Perhaps you had better message John at some point today, but that’s still a can of worms, so you can wait. You carefully pour the remaining milk away and stack your bowl and spoon in the empty dishwasher, and walk through to the downstairs living room.

Roxy’s cat is curled up on the sofa. Well, one of them, anyway, and it looks like she fed them when she got in. Still, he perks up when you come in and mews at you, so you lean over the back of the sofa and scratch him behind the ear.

“Is your mom asleep?” you coo, softly, and he just purrs at you. Roxy’s cats are identical, and while Dirk says he can tell them apart, you’ve always just treated them as the Same Cat, with the side effect that they all adore you and you sometimes get chased by a tidal wave of identical cats.

Does five cats count as a tidal wave? Maybe. Maybe they do. Anyway, the cat yawns, stretching its feet out and flexing its little toe beans. You’re not soft for very many things, but the toe beans of cats is definitely on the list.

He twitches and perks up again, ears twitching. Huh. Strange. You find yourself straining to listen to whatever it is he can hear, and hear Dirk talking upstairs. You can’t quite hear Dave’s response, but you stroke the cat.

“It’s just Dirk, little one.” You pick up the cat, and he cuddles up to you. You don’t know what it is about Roxy’s cats, but they love attention, and go limp if you pick them up. You carry him upstairs to your room, passing by the spare bedroom, where you can hear Dirk talking.

Weird. You pause, but you’re not that interested in why he’s in there instead of his room, so you walk away and to your own room, where you deposit the cat on your bed. He purrs at you again, and goes to sleep.

Your sleeping laptop beeps at you, and you sigh. You were hoping to get some knitting done, but it would seem it’s not to be. Fate has other plans for you, and so does Discord.

arachnidsGrip: Heyyyyyyyy Rosie Posie!

You grimace. Discord’s plans for you aren’t very welcome, after all. A small part of you had hoped it would be Kanaya, but this is what you might term an unpleasant surprise if you were feeling petty.

tentacleTherapist: Vriska.

tentacleTherapist: May I ask what this dubious pleasure is due to?

arachnidsGrip: A little 8irdie told me you and Maryam had a d8 last night!!!!!!!!

tentacleTherapist: That’s correct.

arachnidsGrip: Soooooooo?

tentacleTherapist: It was a date.

arachnidsGrip: Ugh, never mind, you’re so 8oring.

arachnidsGrip: Hurry up and tell me why Davey ran off last night!

tentacleTherapist: I’m not quite sure I follow.

arachnidsGrip: He ran out of that sleepover like his ass was on fire and I want to know whyyyyyyyy!

arachnidsGrip: I thought you’d know, at least, given you guys live together.

tentacleTherapist: Siblings tend to live in the same household. It’s not something I’d term surprising.

arachnidsGrip: Why did he leave?

arachnidsGrip: He left John all alone with that cra88y asshole, you know, so John went home.

arachnidsGrip: I don’t 8lame him.

tentacleTherapist: You seem to have picked an inefficient way of getting your fill of gossip, I’m afraid.

tentacleTherapist: Perhaps watching some telenovelas would help sate your need for drama. I’d recommend Jane the Virgin if you’re feeling particularly desperate.

arachnidsGrip: Uuuuuuuugh.

arachnidsGrip: You’re so 8oring, you do know that?

tentacleTherapist: Oh dear. That’s poor news for you if I’m your source of entertainment.

tentacleTherapist: Although, I did hear something interesting.

arachnidsGrip: So you're NOT 8oring. Tell me!!!!!!!!

arachnidsGrip: Tell meeeeeeee!

tentacleTherapist: Only if you promise not to tell anyone else, alright?

arachnidsGrip: I knew I could count on you!

arachnidsGrip: Spill the 8eans!

tentacleTherapist: Okay.

tentacleTherapist: I heard you should mind your own business and keep your nose out of everyone else’s.

You immediately block her, because she’s sure to kick off after that. Well, it might have been a bit mean, but you honestly can’t deal with Vriska this early in the morning and you certainly don’t see why John values her friendship. You might be biased, given how often she upsets your girlfriend, but you genuinely don’t like her all that much. It might have been mean, but you can’t deny that you felt deep satisfaction doing that.

However.

Why did Dave come home, if it wasn’t something at the sleepover? He was excited for it; you know he was, because he talked about it so offhandedly for the past week. Just casually mentioned it, talked about all the terrible films they were going to watch. He was. You’re sure of it.

What the hell could have brought him back home? Unwittingly, Vriska has gotten under your skin, and however much you feel satisfied at blocking her, what she’s said is still niggling at you. Like it’s a splinter, but in your brain.

Chapter Text

You didn’t sleep well last night.

You don’t know exactly what happened, but you don’t usually dream. You haven’t for a while, anyway, and it was jarring to wake up having flashes of your first dream in months. And it’s hopeful for you to have called it a dream, anyway. In the dream, you were swimming in a lake – the lake near their house, where they were waiting for you  – and though you dived deep, you suddenly felt like it was much deeper.

You remember falling through the water like there was no resistance, and seeing something. Something that scared you shitless.

You got the feeling that you weren’t yourself, either. It was weird. Unfortunately, the more you tried to remember the stupid nightmare, it slipped away, and simply left you with the image of water and a feeling of deep unease, like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have.

Setting up with your laptop, you looked over to Eridan, who was still curled up on the bed. He, at least, seemed to be sleeping pretty peacefully.

“Dude.” Dave was outside, knocking on the door. “Dude, I’m getting breakfast. Want me to bring anything up?”

“Just grab Will Byers here something to eat, aight? I’m not…” You wince as a fresh wave of leftover fear hits you. “I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” You hear Dave pad away, and you groan. Your back’s stiff, your eyes are actually a bit sore, and you feel as though you haven’t slept at all. What the hell.

Well, if Dave’s grabbing breakfast for him, you might as well wake Eridan up. You tap his shoulder and he flails, momentarily, looking around blearily before his eyes land on you, and he pulls himself upwards.

“Yeah, yeah. Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” You stretch. “At least someone slept well, out of the two of us.”

He gets a weird look on his face, and opens his mouth. A weird song pours out of it, that seems to wrap you up and make you feel safe. It’s almost got an undertone you can hear, a feeling of reassurance, but the feeling of your eyes fluttering like you want to drop asleep there and then makes you panic.

What the fuck.

You manage to slap your hand over his mouth and he looks up with wide, surprised eyes.

“Did you—No, okay? I don’t want…what the fuck, dude.” You shudder. “What the actual fuck? Are you even human?”

He doesn’t seem to understand, and there’s that feeling again, that unease that you woke up with. Stranger Things Electric Boogaloo here just legitimately tried to sing you a lullaby that nearly knocked you out. That’s not incredibly reassuring. If you’d been the sort of person who ever really felt like that when you fell asleep, you would have been out cold in seconds.

And this person is in your house, with your siblings. You try to calm the cold panic that’s crawling its way through your veins, and shake your head.

“No. Don’t do that. Ever again.” You take your hand off his mouth. “Not ever again, you hear? Or I’m taking you right to the police.”

He doesn’t understand that last bit, you can tell, but as soon as you say ‘no,’ he obediently shuts his trap, looking guilty.

“Yeah. You look like that, buddy. Friends don’t sedate friends, okay? That’s what anyone would classify as a dick move—”

The door opens, and Dave’s standing there, two bowls of cereal in hand.

“What’s a dick move?” he asks, handing the bowl and a spoon over to Eridan, who looks delighted immediately.

How the fuck do you put this gently? You rub the bridge of your nose, and take your glasses off.

“Dave, just don’t say you’re tired, okay?”

“Why? I’m constantly tired. All the time.”

You whip around, but Eridan is happily spooning cereal into his mouth, completely unconcerned. You narrow your eyes and turn back around.

“He just tried to put me to sleep with…weird singing.”

“A lullaby?” Dave asks, arching his eyebrow. You roll your eyes at him.

“You do realise you look exactly like Rose when you do that?” You ignore his immediate look of disgust. “Listen, he can literally…sing you to sleep. Kind of like a siren, or some shit, I guess, but he was gonna sedate me just because I said I was tired. That’s a dick move, right?”

“I mean…” Dave looks slightly weirded out, but walks around you to pat Eridan on the shoulder. “It’s a kind thought, dude. But it’s a dick move.”

“Don’t pat his fucking shoulder, Dave. He just tried to Goblin King the fuck out of me!” You try not to raise your voice – you’re pretty sure that Rose doesn’t know you’re in here, and at the moment, you have no brilliant plan cooked up to explain the apparently magical teenager eating cereal on the spare bed.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dave sits down, taking a spoonful of cereal. “Also, we’re out of Cookie Crisp. Rose wants you to pick up more later.”

“Dave, he follows me everywhere. I’m not taking him out of the house.” You put your shades back on. “I’ll arrange a delivery for her Highness, though. Is it just cereal?”

“She thought you might be out of Cheetos,” he adds, and pulls out his phone. “Hey, does he really follow you everywhere?” He grins, and starts whistling ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. Eridan perks up and listens.

“Shut the fuck up, li’l bro.” You reach over and muss up his hair, and he makes a face.

“Leave it alone, dickhead. Also, Rose wants to know why I’m home already.”

“Tell her you missed her.” You sigh. “I’m not ready to tell her about this right now. It’s kind of delicate, so can you stall for me for a bit?”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dave waves his spoon. “Are you gonna make it worth my while, though?”

“I won’t change the wi-fi password, how about that?” You open up your laptop and start checking your Facebook. Some progress pics on Horuss’ new robotics project, the same e-girl style selfies from Damara (although she’s the only girl who does that sort of thing with completely dead eyes), and a long rant on something to do with cats from Kankri Vantas. Something about how actually, cats are feral creatures, and cultivating them is actually detrimental. You’re too tired to actually argue, but not too tired to be a little shit, so you tag Roxy in it, and leave it at that. She’ll go ape shit, once she’s awake.

Nothing much else pops up except a couple of cat memes Roxy’s shared around 1AM, so you leave it at that. Your Facebook doesn’t have an awful lot of people on it; you went through and pruned all the assholes off it after high school, although there were some you left there because they entertain you. Kankri, for instance, is great to argue with all on his own. You do kind of miss the posts that you used to see praising Avatar and how it’s actually a masterpiece that barely anyone recognises for the smashing film it is. The LARP stuff that used to make you smile when you saw it has been gone for a while, and you don’t want to miss it. But since that night three months ago, when you fucked up, you’ve blocked him on all social media.

It’s a bittersweet memory, that night. You and Jake had gone to see Alita, and he was so happy about it. Part of your anger over the whole thing is that you probably ruined his enjoyment of that film, and he’d been so excited when it was announced.

It was when you were coming out of the cinema. You took his hand, and squeezed it. He squeezed back.

And then you leant over, summoning up all your courage, and kissing his cheek. You expected, well, surprise that you’d done it, but you didn’t expect him to shove you so hard you fell over. In front of the whole crowd of people.

He helped you up, awkwardly, and then dragged you off by the hand around the corner.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at, Strider?” he hissed, his eyes wide and horrified. You bit down your first reaction, and tried to keep a neutral face.

“Well, I thought that was obvious. Do you want me to spell it out for you—”

“I’m—Is that why you asked me to the movies? God. God, really? The movies? Of all the clichés?”

“I literally said it was a date, English. And you did your stupid little finger guns at me. I said, it’s a date.”

“I thought you meant it in the way people normally say it! Like, that’s a thing we’re doing!” His face was turning red, and he covered it with his hands. “Oh, God. All those people –”

“You know, they probably thought more of you shoving me over like I’d tried to mug you, to be honest.” You shoved your hands in your pockets. “Next time, I’ll make sure to tell whoever I’m stupid enough to fall for that I like them. In a gay way. So they don’t push me over in front of the entire cinema.”

“Dirk, you know that’s not what I meant—”

“I don’t care what you meant, English. I care that you decided it was okay to hold my hand and go on a date with me, and treat like I’m someone special. Because at the end of the day, I’m not. Not to you. And I swear right now, I hope this happens to you. I hope someone breaks your heart into a million pieces, because it’s all you deserve.” You look at him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you treating me like a piece of shit, but would it kill you just to think about the people around you?”

“Coming from you, that’s rich! Didn’t you consider how I’d feel?” He holds his hands up, pleadingly. “Everyone saw you kiss me!”

“Don’t worry. It’ll never happen again.” You started to walk away.

He tried to follow you. You didn’t care. He didn’t give up for a long while – about an hour and a half where you walked ahead and he followed you, calling your name out - but when he did, it felt kind of like your heart breaking all over again. You had feelings for him, and he couldn’t understand that, apparently. You could have taken it better, but all you can see when you recall it are the shocked murmurs when you fell to the ground.

You tried to promise you’d never shed a tear over him. You broke it three days later when you hit Roxy’s liquor stash, and she found you making yourself a Sex on the Beach, sobbing your heart out. She looked after you until you sobered up, and didn’t ask what it was about, thank God. But hell. Jake English is out of your life, and you’re trying to deal with it. Maybe one day, he’ll just be a faint memory as you’re living your perfect life as an eternal bachelor with some sort of robotic pet and the sweetest pad in existence.

You shut your computer down, and try not to think on it any more than you are doing. Jake English doesn’t matter right now, and the kid who’s currently humming ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ while your baby brother’s trying not to laugh? Unfortunately, he does.

Chapter Text

“I told you the cat was a bad idea,” Kankri says, petulantly. You give him the bird as soon as you’ve finished putting a plaster on your hand.

As you suspected, this cat is a fucking bastard. You love him, but he doesn’t love you yet, so when you went to pet him, he immediately savaged you and made this low noise that could either have been a growl or completely feral laughter.

You hear Kankri storm off, and decide to go after him for once. This argument isn’t over – he refused to come near Jack, and your dad is besottedly taking pictures of the hissing demon that decided that cat towers are underrated and the space beneath the kitchen sink is really where it’s at. You’re pissed that Kankri isn’t even trying.

However, you hear him talking quietly when you get to the door of his bedroom.

“I can’t believe that he’d go ahead and get a cat – especially a cat like that – without talking to me about it properly. I live in this house too, and it was already all arranged by the time he even brought it up! And the type of cat – it’s awful.” He stops, listening, and harrumphs. “No! It’s not just a cat. It’s not about the cat, it’s about the principal of the thing.”

God, he’s self-righteous. You wonder who he’s talking to.

“How can you make this better, then?” he whines, and then goes silent. You put your eye to the crack in the door and see him flush red.

“That…That would make it better. When do you think you’ll be visiting?” The soft tone to his voice vanishes and he starts to look irritated. “Oh, don’t be such a narcissist. I’m simply—"

He pauses, listening, and seems flustered. “No. No, come.”

Your brother turns the brightest shade of red you’ve ever seen him turn. “Yes, of course I do,” he whispers, in a shy tone. What the fuck. What the fuck is going on? Has he got a girlfriend? Oh, God, he has. Your brother has a girlfriend. You feel like you’ve stumbled on a private moment, and sneak away.

What the fuck? You would have said that if your brother managed to wangle a girlfriend, he’d be preaching how you shouldn’t have judged him for not getting one all this time. There’s no reason for Kankri to hide a girlfriend, right?

Although, to be honest, if he’d said he had a girlfriend who lives out of town, like this one obviously does, you’d have told him he was making shit up. You hate it when you can see reasonable motives behind your brother’s actions. Kankri isn’t allowed to be reasonable when he’s always preaching at you about what you should and shouldn’t do.

Damn, though. From what you just saw, your brother is fucking whipped.

You tiptoe back to your room, and start to feel slightly blue about the whole thing. Fucking Kankri has a girlfriend. And you don’t have a single relationship to your name. Hell, everyone around here seems to be having a relationship, although you heard about a certain Strider having a catastrophic date at the movies. It’s not a gigantic town, and news travels fast. Pretty much your entire social circle is aware of it, and you had the dubious delight of seeing Dirk and Jake go past your house. Dirk was walking ahead looking like a statue, and Jake was running behind him. It was a complete fucking travesty, the likes of which you hope to never witness again.

Anyway, back to your point. Kankri has a relationship, and for reasons you prefer not to discuss, you don’t. Kankri has a relationship, and, more to the point, has managed to do what you’re currently struggling with – getting over feelings for someone who it’s impossible to pursue something with. The last thing you knew, he was still using every opportunity he had to make a nuisance of himself around Latula Pyrope, who’s been dating Mituna Captor since they were thirteen. He’d had feelings for her for an annoyingly long while, and always voiced his opinion in awkward ways about it.

For example, at first, he’d come home and whine that being an unpaid carer in your teens for your other half was simply going to put stress on the relationship. You were ten and just called him a windbag, but your father was very strict on the matter, and told him that if he was going to act like that over it, he’d just end up losing the respect of those around him. In retrospect, your brother was a douchebag using Mituna’s needs to find a fault. He’s not as bad now, you think.

After a while, and some different tactics of complaining about the relationship, he settled into pining, which was somehow worse. He’d listen to sad songs, and say that nobody understood the way he saw things. You, at this point, were twelve, and pointed out that it was mostly because he was being a freakin’ drama queen, and sometimes, he could be wrong. He didn’t take it well, but then you were kind of picking on him to wind him up.

He then threw himself into helping your dad with church matters. Maybe he was hoping that it would make him seem like a better person – that going every Sunday with your father and helping organise things, just like Dad did, would make him seem like a good church-going guy. Instead, it just seemed to give him another outlet, and he mellowed, somewhat, although he was still insufferable. He wasn’t over Latula, but he had other things in his life. He helped out with the needlepoint group, and because he seemed like a polite, respectful young man (even though he was a total pain in the ass at home) he actually seemed to do well, and the older people loved him.

There are areas in which your brother doesn’t completely suck. He does some good things, too – if the people at church say they need a hand, he generally gives it.

Grocery shopping? He’ll make sure to go himself, and make them a cup of tea when he gets back. Two old ladies fell out? He can either patch it up or deftly ensure they aren’t seated near each other at any picnics.

Not being a dick at home? Impossible. You breathed a sigh of relief when he went off to college. This has been his second year, and when he goes back, he’ll be a Junior. Oh, when he goes back you will weep tears of pure, unadulterated joy, the like of which could be bottled and sold for their purity and joy…ness. You hate when your brother comes home for the holidays, it’s true, but that’s only because he’s such an asshole.

It occurs to you then and there that college might have been where he met this girl. Right. You didn’t consider that – they do say there are a lot of weird people around when you go to college. He seems pretty happy, anyway. God. You can’t actually believe your brother has managed to achieve that sort of happiness before you. Well, you can, because these days you’d pity anyone who wanted to date you, but the idea of Kankri getting into a stable relationship before you did makes you feel even more pathetic.

Chapter Text

Your phone rings an hour after you block Vriska, and after seeing the caller ID, you reluctantly pick up.

“John. An unexpected pleasure, as always.”

“Uh, hey Rose.” He seems uncomfortable, and you feel almost irritated that he’s doing what you know him to be doing. John has never been good at subtle, after all, and you know what he’s going to say. You wait.

“Listen, I just, you know, wanted to ask how you’re doing? We haven’t talked much recently.”

“That is quite true. I’m doing well, and you?”

You hate the small talk. But you bear with it, because he’s your friend, no matter what, even though right now you feel the irritation building.

“I’m, uh, well. I’m good. Vriska…Vriska’s good too.”

You wait, silently.

“Actually, that’s what I’m kind of calling about,” he says, at last, and you feel your mouth twitch. You want to purse your lips, but instead, you wait.

“Vriska, uh. She said you blocked her on Discord? And I wanted to, you know, ring and check what all that was about.”

“John, I severely doubt that Vriska did not tell you the entirety of our conversation, and I also severely doubt that you aren’t going to request I unblock her.”

“Well, would you?” he asks, almost hopefully. You sigh heavily.

“No, John, I won’t. She asked me for details on Dave, which is frankly crass, and she also tried to pretend as though she cared about anything other than her own motives. I’m very disappointed to see that she appears to be rubbing off on you, seeing as all you’ve done so far is the exact same thing.” You examine your nails as you talk. “Vriska is your friend, John, and whilst I respect that, even if I’m not entirely enamoured of it, I’m not obligated to make friends with her myself. I have my own reasons for not wanting to. Can’t you respect that?”

“Can’t you give her a chance?” John asks. You sigh.

“John, Vriska has had so many second chances that she might as well be the patron saint of the concept. I’m not willing to make friends with her. That’s that.”

“She wants to be friends with you!” he says, frustrated. “She wanted to make friends with you. She thinks you’re fun!”

“Quite the opposite. She called me boring and then tried to worm information out of me about my family, which isn’t even my information to give. And I’ll give you some information of my own, John – before you started hanging out with Vriska, you respected people’s wishes more.” You know you shouldn’t have gone that far the moment you say it, but oddly, you feel no regret. Not right now, anyway.

“Rose, what the hell?” John snaps. “I respect people’s wishes just fine. You’re just being…you’re being rude, okay?”

“Why do you want me to be Vriska’s friend, if I’m so rude?” you ask him, mildly.

“Well—” He huffs. “I just—Could you unblock Vriska?”

“Again, I’m afraid I’m not going to do that. If that was the only reason you called me, I’d prefer to hang up.”

“No. No, I also wanted to – you know what, forget it. If you didn’t tell Vriska, you’re not going to tell me, are you?” He hangs up without even a goodbye, and you feel the anger building.

John has no right to hang up on you like that. You should have been the one hanging up, given that he was entirely in the wrong, and besides which, he should respect your choice not to be friends with your girlfriend’s ex. He’s such an idiot sometimes, but it’s usually close to the ‘lovable’ end of the spectrum, not the ‘raving’ end. You actually feel like if you saw him, you’d happily punch him.

You storm out of your room, throwing your hands up just in time to catch Dirk sneaking out of the spare room with Dave and someone you don’t know in tow, like they’re the fucking Scooby Gang.

“Oh, shit—” Dave mutters, and Dirk clears his throat and steps forward.

“Hey. Rosie. What’s up?”

“I am having a bad day,” you snarl, and Dirk takes a step back, knocking into the mysterious stranger, who, now that you think about it, somehow looks familiar. You peer at him.

“Uh. Rose. I, um…” Dirk pushes the other guy behind him slightly. “I arranged a delivery. It’s coming later, so. Uh. Cookie Crisp incoming?”

“Who’s that?” you ask, almost sharply.

“Why are you having a bad day?” he counters. You don’t want to open up about that particular can of worms, so you ignore his question.

“Is this a friend of yours, Dirk?”

“Uh. Yeah. This is, uh, a friend of mine.” He coughs. “He’s got nowhere to stay for a bit, so we’re just going to give him a place to crash for a little bit. Cool? Cool.”

Something’s fishy, but you don’t really want to chase it too much. You’re too angry over John, so you turn to Dave, who’s trying to sneak away towards his room.

“Dave. Would you kindly message John and tell him why you ran out last night?”

Dirk coughs, and waves a hand. “I asked him. I wanted to, uh, make sure everything was ready for when the new guy got here, but I needed to work on something. It was a last minute thing.”

“He practically arrived out of nowhere,” Dave adds, and Dirk turns to him, just for a minute, frowning. Behind them, the blonde with the purple streak seems to be staring at you in pure fascination. You roll your eyes.

“Well, maybe teach him to take a picture, because right now, he’s making me uncomfortable. And tell John not to ring me again unless he’s dying.”

You’re not meaning to be dramatic, exactly, but Dave frowns at you, and so does Dirk. Almost in unison, they turn to look at you.

“Rosie, did something happen between you and John?” Dirk asks, softly. You glare at him.

“You could say that, and it wouldn’t have if Dave had just let John know what was going on. Instead, his bitchy new best friend invaded my private messages, tried to get information out of me, and was incredibly rude. I don’t care if she’s his new bosom buddy, she’s still my girlfriend’s ex, and if he tries to get me to make nice with her one more time, we will fall out for good. For the love of God, Dave, does he somehow not get that?”

“Oh. Shit. I’ll have a chat with him, okay?” Dave puts a hand on your shoulder, and you feel some of the irritation seep away. “That’s not cool. I don’t know if he…y’know, knows about all that, but I’ll make sure he understands, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, somewhat calmer. Dirk shoos the blonde boy back into the spare room, following him afterwards. Dave pats your shoulder.

“Listen. John never really went through that jerk phase like we did. He’s probably just getting it out of his system.” He grins at you. “And hey, I bet you handled it like a pro.”

“I was indeed the Tony Hawk of Blocking Vriska Serket,” you admit, and he whistles.

“Blocking, damn. Rose, you’re a stone cold badass.” You know he’s making fun of you, and just shove him lightly. You can’t help the slight smile that comes to your face.

“No, really, Tony Hawk, teach me your sick moves. Tell me how to block people. Teach me your ways.”

“Well, first, go downstairs.” He nods, and you smile sweetly at him. “And then, wait for the delivery of groceries, given that you presumably told Dirk to get it rather than walk your lazy behind down to the shops.”

He stands very still for a moment, and then mutters under his breath, walking downstairs. In your pocket, your phone jingles insistently with another call. You check the caller ID.

John. Again.

You decline the call, because, honestly, why wouldn’t you, and try to stave off any further irritation. The phone jingles, and you check again, fully prepared to decline with the fury of a thousand suns – but it’s Kanaya.

Your heart lifts, and you answer the phone.

“Hello, Kanaya,” you say, softly. You’re always soft when it comes to Kanaya. She mellows you out, and makes you want to wrap her up and make everything sunshine and light for her.

“Rose!” she says, delighted, as though it were you calling her, and not the other way around. You smile to yourself.

“To what do I owe this unequivocal pleasure?” you ask. You almost hear her flushing.

“Well, I wanted to make sure that you slept well last night, really. And I wanted to know how your day was going, and to ask, if it’s not too impolite, if you’d like to go to the beach this afternoon. And pick shells.”

You want to laugh. She’s so sweet, and you love her. If it’s not too impolite? You’re girlfriends. It’s not impolite for her to ask you on a date.

“I’d love to, my dearest. It’d be most welcome after some unpleasantness I’ve dealt with today.” You get the urge to kiss her, even though she’s not here. What you’d give to have her here, so that you could gently kiss her, all over her face, until she was bright red and staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that seem to hold all the love in the universe.

“Oh? What happened?”

“Nothing that will seem important when I see you, I’m sure,” you assure her, and hear her squeak. She’s still not used to being flirted with, after two and a half years of dating. It’s adorable, and your heart melts every single time.

“Rose, you do that on purpose,” she accuses you, and you can’t help but laugh this time.

“Oh, but dear heart, even if I do, I still mean every word. What time did you want to come pick me up?”

She stutters for a moment, and then sighs, affectionately. “I was thinking that four might be ideal, but it’s really up to you.”

“Four sounds perfect,” you say. “I love you, Kanaya.”

“I love you too, Rose. Very much.” She hangs up, and you smile.

Okay. The world seems like a much better place, now that you have a date, and you got to tease your girlfriend ever so slightly. You’ll also get to smooch her later, which puts the whole situation with John very much on the back burner, and will help you forget the fact that you have a new, ever so slightly creepy houseguest.

You could have sworn you’ve seen him somewhere before, but you can’t think where. You don’t think you’ve met him – you would have remembered a boy who looked like the love child of scene and Draco Malfoy – but you could swear that face is one you know from somewhere.

Weird.

Chapter Text

You wake up to arguing downstairs.

Your sister and your mother are having an argument, and from what you can make out, it’s something about Rufioh (your sister’s ex) and a car. You briefly worry that your sister has finally decided she can’t take it any more and run him over in the family car, before you get more of the conversation.

Damara has done a full ‘Before He Cheats’ on Rufioh’s car, and Mr Nitram isn’t happy at all, according to your mother. His son’s car was bought with his money, and the only other car they have is the one that’s more of a Tavros-accomodating van. At this point, Damara begins screaming about how it was either Rufioh or the car she hit with a baseball bat and that Mr Nitram, who never liked her any way, was goddamn lucky she totalled the vehicle and not his cheating bastard of a son.

You sigh. You’re kind of hungry, but you’d rather not go down to the kitchen. Your mother will try and get you on side, and your sister will swear at you for knowing what’s happened. You’ve been in that boat before, and you’re happy to stay on shore, really.

You briefly contemplate talking to Tavros, but decide against it. He’ll probably be shaken up as it is, and both of you tend to retreat in cases like this. He’s scared shitless of your sister, anyway, who is furious at everyone most of the time.

You sigh. You’re trapped here, until such time as Damara and your mother decide to stop arguing. Fantastic. Your computer pings and you shudder, seeing who sent the message. Seriously, he has the worst timing.

centaursTesticle: D--> We need to talk.

apocalypseArisen: 0h g0d why is y0ur disc0rd name s0 gr0ss

apocalypseArisen: leave me al0ne zahhak

centaursTesticle: D--> Your sister has been e%ceedingly inappropriate again. You need to talk to her.

apocalypseArisen: y0u kn0w full fucking well shes a law unt0 herself

centaursTesticle: D--> There is no need for foul language.

apocalypseArisen: listen dude shes her 0wn pers0n

apocalypseArisen: d0nt b0ther me with this

apocalypseArisen: anyway she w0uldnt have d0ne this if rufi0h hadnt cheated 0n her with y0ur br0ther

centaursTesticle: D--> Aradia, that does not e%cuse property damage.

apocalypseArisen: what d0 y0u want me t0 d0

apocalypseArisen: make her ap0l0gise t0 the bastard that cheated 0n her

apocalypseArisen: hell n0 im n0t s0ulless

centaursTesticle: D--> Aradia, please. The language.

apocalypseArisen: ugh

apocalypseArisen: listen im saying this t0 be nice

apocalypseArisen: but cheats stay cheats s0

apocalypseArisen: if the same thing l00ks t0 be happening d0nt let y0ur br0ther fl0under in a dead relati0nship, alright?

apocalypseArisen: ive n0t f0rgiven him f0r dating my sisters b0yfriend but i kn0w hes a g00d pers0n at heart

apocalypseArisen: rufi0h nitram isnt what he seems

apocalypseArisen: m0stly because its easy t0 see him as perfect when hes just far fr0m it

apocalypseArisen: ive seen it happen bef0re

apocalypseArisen: hed rather cheat 0n s0me0ne than break up with them pr0perly

centaursTesticle: D--> I don’t like what you’re implying.

centaursTesticle: D--> Your sister has never been a g00d person.

apocalypseArisen: she was 0nce

apocalypseArisen: but even if shes a bad pers0n that d0esnt mean she deserves being cheated 0n

apocalypseArisen: she deserved a pr0per break up

centaursTesticle: D--> Rufioh did not deserve a totalled car.

apocalypseArisen: maybe y0ull think differently in a c0uple 0f m0nths

centaursTesticle: D--> Are you refusing to talk to your sister about this?

apocalypseArisen: yes

apocalypseArisen: im n0t getting inv0lved and im frankly ann0yed that y0u think id p0ke my n0se int0 this

apocalypseArisen: its their business n0t 0urs and the s00ner y0u realise that the better

centaursTesticle: D--> I find your behaviour entirely una%eptable

apocalypseArisen: thats sad f0r y0u then

apocalypseArisen: because y0u d0nt get t0 tell me what t0 d0

apocalypseArisen: if y0u want s0me0ne with n0 m0rals t0 stick their n0se where it d0esnt bel0ng i hear vriska is g00d at that

apocalypseArisen: 0r y0u c0uld c0me talk t0 my sister y0urself

centaursTesticle: D--> Why would I talk to someone who has violent intent towards my brother and his partner?

centaursTesticle: D--> That would be f001ish.

apocalypseArisen: well th0se are y0ur 0pti0ns

centaursTesticle: D--> Why must you be so difficult about this?

apocalypseArisen: because y0ure trying t0 make me d0 s0mething I d0nt want t0 d0 after ive repeatedly said n0

apocalypseArisen: h0ly shit is that s0 difficult t0 understand

apocalypseArisen: its intensely unc0mf0rtable

centaursTesticle: D--> Why is it uncomfortable?

apocalypseArisen: im muting y0u

Blocking him isn’t something you’d be comfortable doing, but it plays on your mind. You’re not sure if it would be unfair or not to block him, but at least now you won’t get notified however much he decides to message you.

Equius Zahhak has difficulty with shit he doesn’t understand. You understand things quite easily, including understanding the fact that understanding is hard for him. Understand?

Oh, forget it. Basically Equius isn’t good at seeing things as wrong if they’re important to him. Cheating would usually be immoral, but seeing as his brother is in love with your sister’s ex, he has justified it by casting your sister as the villain. Today, she hasn’t done herself any favours by smashing up that car. You stand by what you said though – it’s Rufioh who’s in the wrong, and someone who cheats will usually do it again.

You check the time. It’s one o clock – you guess if you had gone to the kitchen, it would have been lunch. You’ve no idea why you’ve been sleeping later and later, but you’d probably guess that all these weird little naps you’ve been taking might have slightly fucked up your sleep schedule. You do remember a weird dream you had today, though. You were swimming, and a giant octopus was cuddling you close and singing to you. Also, you weren’t you.

For some reason, you almost think you know who you were, but then the feeling slips away from you. Forget it. Today already sucks.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Damara flings the door to your room open, flings herself onto the bed next to you, and burst into angry tears.

Well, hell. You didn’t expect that. You scoot back until your back is touching the head of the bed, and she looks up with her nose dribbling snot.

“Bastard!” she screams, pounding her fists on the mattress. “Cheating filthy horse-defiling bastard!” You clear your throat, and reach over, holding your arm out. You’re not sure what to do, but maybe if she came to your room, she wants comfort.

“He…he sucks, Damara,” you say, gently, and she burst into fresh tears.

“Stupid car. Stupid, stupid car.”

“Yep.”

She starts whimpering sad little words as she’s crying. She’s still furious, you know, but you start to make out more of why she might have done it.

Damara and Rufioh used to drive that car into the nearest parking lot and make out, but yesterday, she was coming out of the old fashioned diner where she works a few shifts every week, and what did she see in the parking lot?

Rufioh and Horuss.

“Using our moves on that stupid shit. Bastard. Bastard scum.” She sits up and looks at you, fiercely. “Bastard.”

Okay, yeah, you can see why she smashed his car. Fuck. You give her a very gentle hug, and while she doesn’t hug you back, she does endure it. Which is better than what she usually does (i.e. pushing you away), so you take it that it’s okay.

“You know…” you start. She looks down at you.

“I think Rufioh’s shit,” you say, in a rush. “He should have broken up with you properly, if he was going to do this. If he met someone else. You deserved as much.”

Damara sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She looks distraught, and you’re suddenly oddly proud of her destroying Rufioh’s stupid car. Sure, it’s property damage, but maybe Carrie Underwood is right. Maybe next time Rufioh will think twice before cheating on anyone. And hey, you probably would break something if you were upset enough.

“Not worth it,” she says, finally, pushing your arms away. “Never was.”

“That’s the spirit,” you say, encouragingly, as she stands up and slopes away. You’d believe she believed that, if you hadn’t heard her say those words a week ago. And a week before that.

It’s going to be a long time before Damara moves past this, you think.

Chapter Text

Your talk with John didn’t exactly go according to plan.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s acting super butthurt, like you’ve done something wrong. It wouldn’t be so bad, but every time you ask him about it, he just says to forget it, and changes the subject. That, you at least knew.

But Rose was right to be frustrated. You’re frustrated, after an hour-long conversation with him where you pointed out exactly how awkward it was that he was asking Rose to make nice with her girlfriend’s ex.

The old John would have understood and not been a dick about it, you know that much, but all he kept going on about was that Rose wouldn’t pick up his calls or unblock Vriska. No matter how you tried to word it, he didn’t get it. He refused to understand, and now you just feel drained, so you muted him and decided to scroll through Tumblr instead, because it’s relatively mindless and relaxing, and you can do it on your phone. Dirk and Eridan are still in the spare room, presumably while Eridan levitates on the ceiling.

You might have told Rose that John was just going through a jerk phase, but honestly, if he has a problem, he could just tell you. He could just say, hey Dave, here’s my problem, let’s talk it out because we’re seventeen and mature enough to do so.

But at the same time, you know it’s hard for him to say stuff like that, especially to you. You get that. You really do.

God, this is a mess. It’s not that you don’t get that John can act like this, but for the first time, you’re not excusing it because he’s your friend. Because now, he’s managed to upset Rose, and that shit isn’t something you would have thought he would do. You, John, Jade, and Rose have been friends for a very long time, even before you moved in with your siblings. When you were back in Texas, you used to talk with them all the time, and when you moved in with everyone else, John was your best friend. He was always there for you, whether you needed a movie marathon to take your mind off of how you’d ended up here, or whether you wanted to go out riding on your bikes. You remember when your world used to just be the two of you, because you were best friends. He came with you when Dirk taught you how to swim, even though you didn’t want him there. He took you to the ice cream shop when it was summer, and showed you everything he liked best about the place where you were going to be living.

He helped make it your home. You can’t shake the fact that you guys were closer before, but honestly, the second he started hanging out with Vriska Serket, things changed. You know that she’s done some bad shit in the past, and you definitely know all about how Tavros ended up in that wheelchair, because you were there for that. There’s also how she fell out with Terezi.

Terezi was your crush when you were thirteen, and while you’ve moved past it, she’s still one of your favourite ladies in the entire world. She’s funny, straight-talking, and has a good sense of right or wrong. If you’re being honest, you’ve deliberately not opened up to her about this thing because you know how she’d see it. She’d tell you how it is, whether you wanted to or not.

See, Terezi and Vriska used to be super close, right up until Aradia’s ‘accident’, which Terezi told you about because Karkat point blank refused to go into it. When Terezi tried to call Vriska out on what happened, she wouldn’t listen, and so Terezi cut her off. Vriska then turned around and started treating her disability like it was the sole thing about her, doing everything that Terezi didn’t like people doing. Opening doors for her, treating her like she would break. All the things she’d stopped people from doing beforehand.

Vriska Serket was bad news. John might not see it yet, but when he did, you sure as hell weren’t going to be picking up the pieces. He was treating everyone except Vriska like garbage, including Karkat.

Your best friend has turned into a jerk, and he’s hurting your other best bro. Karkat is your mutual buddy, the person you and John agreed to be friends with. You had to try so damn hard – so damn hard – to be friends with him, and John’s just, what, throwing that all away? For what, Spiderbitch’s friendship?

God.

You’d vent about it to Terezi if it was anyone else. Or maybe even to Dirk, or Rose, if she hadn’t already been on the wrong end of this whole mess. You’ve never seen your sister so ruffled – Rose is Goth Girl Chill personified, she never loses her cool like that. Never. But then, you’re not dumb, and you know that Kanaya and Vriska have something of a…history.

You don’t really know a lot about that, though. You didn’t want to know at the time, and you certainly don’t want to ask Terezi about it, although you know she knows. She always does.

Sighing, you stand up, and leave a note on the table just to say that you’re going out. You’re not sure where, and you’re not sure when you’ll be back, but you decide to go for a walk anyway. You kind of just want to walk around, with no-one about to stress you out.

That’s the beauty of being free to do your own thing, you guess. In Texas, things were a lot different. You were definitely an indoors kid, and even though you were okay to do your own thing, you had to kind of stay in the apartment. When you were at school, you’d keep to yourself out of habit. You never got to go for walks by yourself as a kid, and your neighbours definitely thought it was weird that you never went to church or anything. One time, a really nice old lady asked if you wanted to come to church with her, but Bro was dead set against it. You don’t really think she meant any harm by it, but he told her not to try and educate his kid.

But he never let you walk out on your own in Texas. You know why now, but then, it was just the way things were. Dirk was the one who took you on your first walk around town, and out to the woods.

“Sometimes, you might just want to be on your own,” he said, when you were looking around. “That’s fine.”

Years later, it’s still fine, and you’ve developed a habit now of wandering off whenever you need space. You’re not stupid, though. You know that recently you’ve been walking a hell of a lot more than you usually would.

Today, your meandering takes you up to the big graveyard, where you find someone sitting underneath the big tree in the middle of the headstones. Aradia Megido looks worn out, her knees drawn up to her chest as she sits, staring out over the wide expanse of the dead and buried.

She doesn’t react when you walk up awkwardly to stand in front of her, but after about a minute and a half, you decide to sit down. You…kind of know each other, though you wouldn’t say that you were friends. You’re more people who’ve been lab partners, who have friends in common.

“Wanna talk about it?” you offer, and she shrugs.

“Do you?”

“Not really. You come here to get away from it, though?”

She nods, and wraps her arms around her knees.

“I just feel so exhausted. I just…I wish that people would stop dragging me into stuff that isn’t anything to do with me, you know?” She seems really tired as she says it. “And I’m so tired. All the time. Ever since this kicked off I’ve been sleeping later and later.”

Damnit. You wish you could listen to her problems, but you feel like if you did, you’d just take on more stress, and be as stressed as her. Instead, you draw your own knees up, copying the position she’s sat in.

“So why the graveyard?” you ask, slowly.

“Well, the dead are good listeners,” she jokes, but in a way that makes you think that Aradia Megido really does come here and tell the dead what’s going on in her life.

“I came here just because I was walking past, to be honest. And it’s quiet.”

“I like the quiet here, too.” She sighs, gustily. “The quiet is much, much better.”

You kind of feel like you should ask, but again, you’ve got your own stress. You make a noise of agreement, and then find your eye drawn to the giant scar on her knee.

Aradia, as far as you’re aware, has never tried to cover it up. It’s a sharp scar, made by something that cut deep. It’s a memento of the accident. The one that wasn’t an accident. She catches you looking, and doesn’t quite meet your eye.

“John’s not a bad person, you know. And Vriska isn’t the same person who pushed me. I’m not saying she isn’t a bad person, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think she knew what would happen.”

Sometimes, you’d swear that Aradia’s a mind reader. But you shrug.

“Who said it was about John?” you ask her, and she gives you a Look. Nobody needed to say it was about John, you guess. Nothing stays a secret in this town for long, and it’s certainly no secret that while John has been avoiding you and Karkat, he hasn’t been avoiding Vriska.

“Do you think…do you think he’s been hanging out with her instead?” you say, finally.

It’s.

Well.

You didn’t want to think of it like that, but sat here, under a willow tree with arguably the creepiest girl you know, it feels like you can’t hide from it anymore. You wanted to see it as John being busy, as John hanging with Vriska when he wasn’t busy because he’s allowed to have other friends. You didn’t want it to look like you were jealous of Vriska, because you’re not.

Aradia looks at you for a full minute, the silence of the graveyard surrounding the two of you, before she nods.

“Yes, I do. He’s been hanging out with her most times I see him. He used to hang with you all the time. But recently, he and Vriska have been isolating themselves to spend time with each other.” She looks sympathetically at you. “I’m sorry, Dave. It’s not a good situation for any of us.”

You turn away as your eyes smart. A thousand memories are flashing through your head – you and John running along the beach as you fired water guns at each other, John helping teach you to swim, watching crappy Nic Cage movies with him, passing notes in class when you were bored or feeling weird that you weren’t in Texas. Him buying you a new pair of shades for your first birthday here.

The same ones you’re wearing now.

You feel the feeling of needing to cry clogging up your chest, but even as you fight it, tears are leaking down your face. You wish you were alone, but as soon as you look over, you see that Aradia has turned her back. Like she somehow knows this is a private moment. Like she’s pretending…not to notice.

You let it happen. You let yourself break down, with no one around you but her and the gravestones.

Later, she turns back around, handing you a tissue from her bag. You wipe at your face, and cough.

“So, I’ve lost my best friend. What bullshit happened to you?”

She looks very sadly down at the ground, and starts gently ripping at the grass with her fingers. “My sister totalled her ex’s car, and Equius started messaging me trying to get me to talk to her about it. Like it was somehow her fault that he cheated on her. It’s not, but…” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone’s acting like it’s her fault. Like because she wears short skirts and swears, or because she changed while they were dating, she deserved it. It’s not her fault that he couldn’t keep it in his pants.” She balls up her fists. “And then Equius won’t leave me alone about it, like I’m somehow involved in it, like I should be sticking my nose in. Like I should be encouraging her to bake apple pie, or wear gingham, or—”

“Wait, what? Equius Zahhak?” You frown. “Why’s he buggin’ you over this? It isn’t your fault.”

She slumps, ever so slightly. “I don’t know. I keep muting him, and he just keeps bugging me whenever I unmute him. I might leave him on muted this time, but…I don’t know. He probably thinks he can reprogram me to agree with him if he messages me enough times. But I can’t take it anymore. I even left my phone at home.”

Fuck. That’s…you’re pretty sure that crosses several boundaries. She looks exhausted by the whole thing, and honestly, you think she might be more tired out from this harassment thing Equius seems to think it’s okay to do than from the whole mess with Damara. You do kind of know that Rufioh cheated on Damara with your brother’s friend Horuss, but you hadn’t heard about the car. But why does Equius think it’s Aradia’s job to fix it?

You don’t ask her that. Instead, you pat her hand.

“It’s not your duty or whatever to be nice to a dick like that. If he’s being that awful, and you don’t want to block him, just leave him to stew, okay?”

“I plan to.” She looks down. “But I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit in the first place. I shouldn’t have to need to mute him, or leave my phone at home. It’s…” She rips up a bit more grass. “I shouldn’t have to.”

She’s got a damn point.

“You shouldn’t,” you say, and she looks almost relieved that you agree with her. “Can’t you, I don’t know, talk to your mom about it?”

She shakes her head. “She’s got enough on her plate sorting out Damara’s thing. I don’t want her having to deal with Equius’ dad as well as Tavros’. At least Tavros’ is nice about this whole thing and isn’t trying to make Mom pay for the repairs. Mr Zahhak would probably start an argument with my mom over this.”

“That’s bullshit. You should be able to talk to your mom about this.”

“I can’t. She’s stressed enough as it is.” She leans back against the tree. “I can’t add to that.”

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself at the altar of Equius Zahhak.” You pat her shoulder awkwardly. “Listen, I know we’re not, like, best friends, or even friend-friends, but I’ve got my wallet and you don’t have your phone. How about I take you out for the most platonic ice-cream in town?”

“Deal,” she agrees, immediately.

You kind of feel like you’ve done something good, as the two of you stand up and leave the cemetery, Aradia leading the way. Like the universe is rewarding you for realising that your best friend is distancing himself from you.

But it’s not enough.

It’s not going to be enough, not if you lose John like this.

Chapter Text

You’ve been hiding in the spare room for a while now.

You kind of want to go down to the kitchen, but you don’t want to run into Rose. Something you and your youngest sister have in common is that when you’re upset, you need your space. That was true, even when she was a toddler – she’d take herself off to the corner and talk with the cat. It was cute at the time.

You wonder what Eridan does when he’s upset. Maybe he eats people? But when you look over, the blonde kid just seems to be vaguely staring out of the window, while he’s sat on the bed.

He looks around, catching you watching him, and looks back pointedly to the outside. You groan.

“What, you want to go outside? Not happening. If you try to put me to sleep with your weird Sarah Sanderson singing, you definitely lose your walkies privileges.”

He looks blankly at you for a minute, but you can almost see the moment his brain registers that you’ve said no. He looks almost angry, and picks up the pillow, throwing it at you.

Well, damn, that’s a lot brattier than what you’re used to from him. You catch it, and wing it back at his face, and he squawks when it makes direct impact. You didn’t grow up with three siblings for nothing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t pick a fight you can’t finish.”

He puts the pillow down, eyes narrowed. Well, you dealt with Rose’s tantrums, and Dave’s, come to think of it, but if you’re right and this dude is about Dave’s age, he should be well past tantrums by now. Maybe it isn’t fair to keep him cooped up, but if he hadn’t tried to put you to sleep earlier, you’d probably take him for a walk.

Although.

To be honest, you could take him to the diner, seeing as Jane has a shift today. You doubt even Eridan could ruffle Jane’s feathers, and you know he eats and drinks, and it’s not as if you don’t have the money to treat him to some pie. So you stand, and beckon him.

“C’mon, then. I’ll take you somewhere nice, and you stop being a miserable little—” You finish that sentence before you swear, but he’s following you already, eyes wide and bright as he clings onto his scarf with both hands. He’s wearing another shirt of Dave’s (which you practically had to take out of your brother’s hands), so at least he’s not wearing entirely the same outfit as yesterday.

(You can’t confirm the same of yourself.)

The two of you sneak downstairs, you with your handy dandy wallet and housekeys, Eridan with his handy dandy scarf, and walk out of the front door. Your creepy little horror movie antagonist seems beside himself with delight, probably because he got his own way, and even though he’s sticking close to you, he’s looking around at the open space like he’s going to start crying. The two of you walk down the drive, and you start walking into town. You turn to him as you walk out of your driveway.

“Meteor Bay’s pretty open-minded, but folks here’ll still be unhappy if you start doing any magical singing shit. Keep that on the down-low, okay?”

He doesn’t seem to get it, just follows you as you keep walking, leading him through the classy neighbourhood where your house is and out of the big houses towards pretty picket fences. It’s a pretty warm day, but the diner isn’t too far away.

Eridan doesn’t speak a word the entire time you’re walking, so you decide to check your phone. You’ve got a couple of messages from Horuss ranting about Damara, but it’s probably nothing, so you leave it. You told Horuss at the time that it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with Rufioh, but Horuss is as stubborn as a horse when it comes to doing what he wants. You don’t know where he gets it from, because his dad is real hard-headed about being logical and doing the right thing, but kids don’t always take after their parents.

Anyway, he’s a good kid when he’s not being this stubborn, so you make a mental note to get back to him later as you reach the diner, which just from the outside is overly colourful. It’s been decorated by the owner, a cheerful lady with a big sweet tooth who you’ve met a couple of times. You push the door open, and shoo Eridan inside.

He doesn’t say anything, true to form, but he does look around, wide-eyed. You don’t blame him – the Cotton Candy Cherub is the sort of place that’s impossible to ignore, with bright colours everywhere, and giant paintings of candy taking up most of the wall alongside a few obligatory celebrity portraits. Marilyn Monroe blows a kiss to the world from the left wall, sandwiched between pictures of lollipops and funnel cake.

Jane spots you from behind the counter, and runs up, pad in hand.

“Dirk! It’s been ages since you’ve visited me at work!” She turns her well-meaning attention to Eridan, who stares at her with eyes as wide as he gave the rest of the diner. “And who is this? My, I nearly thought it was Dave for a minute!”

“Only if he skipped meals for a month. Jane, this is Eridan. He’s not much of a talker,” you add, before she attempts to talk to him again.

Eridan waves at her, which you didn’t expect, and she gives him a giant sunny smile.

“A very polite young man, too! So, today I can recommend the peach pie, as Ms Paint made it personally. I made the apple one, but I’m not sure it came out quite right.” She looks worried. “I don’t quite know what happened with it.”

“Slice of each?” you offer, and she beams in relief, leading the two of you to a booth, where Eridan immediately slots himself into the corner. You raise an eyebrow at him as soon as she heads back to the counter.

“So, you like her, huh? I guess that’s good.”

He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you, and you follow his gaze to a booth at the back, with a giant picture of John Travolta above it, lined with pink and blue fairy lights. You wince.

“Eesh, yeah. Jane’s been trying to get her boss to get rid of it for a while, but her boss says it give the place a bit of authenticity.”

“Crow.”

You think that’s what he says, anyway, but you’re too busy being spooked. Goddamn it, this kid is creepier than…than that godawful puppet of your dad’s. You open your mouth to say something in return, but Jane’s hurrying back already.

“Sorry, Dirk, I forgot to take your drink orders!” she pants, looking flustered. Huh, you guess she did. That’s kind of unlike her, but in light of Bathtub Boy speaking, you overlook it.

“Fanta for me, Coke for the kid. It’s okay, Jane. Don’t worry about it. I was just telling Eridan about you trying to get rid of Danny Zuko over there.”

She slumps. “It’s a pretty one-sided effort. Roxy loves it, did you know? She keeps encouraging Callie to keep it up there. I can’t think of any customer who’d see that and wouldn’t lose their appetite.”

You snort, and Eridan does as well. Jane smiles at you both, and scuttles back to the counter, probably to get you your drinks.

“What’s ‘crow’?” you ask Eridan, who just points at the giant picture of John Travolta, like that answers anything. Welp. You guess that’s all you’re getting for now.

“I don’t want to have to do this!” someone hisses from across from you, and your attention is taken by a guy who looks like every sleazy mobster from a mafia film rolled into one. He’s dressed entirely in black, and in front of him is Ms Paint, Jane’s co-worker, who’s dressed in blue and looking sympathetically at him.

“It’s okay, Jack. No one wants to be the bearer of bad news.”

“I’m having a hard enough time already, and we had to get a permit just to go to that end of town. A permit, from Snow—” He clears his throat. “From the dame. I gotta do it today. Today. And you know what I hear, as soon as I come into town? I hear that the eldest one smashed up someone’s car.”

“Oh dear,” she says, patting his hand. “But, I mean...” She seems to be searching for the right words, and he groans.

“Listen, darlin’, if Snow don’t kill me, Hana will. She told me to watch his back when we moved over to Derse. Now look what happened. A deal didn’t go through, and he’s gone. He’s gone, and I can’t fix that.” He looks like he’s about to flip his shit, but Ms Paint, who’s got the patience of a saint, is already moving to the other side of the table to sit next to him, putting an arm around him.

“Jack, I know you would have done everything you could. You’re mourning too.”

Your Fanta is placed in front of you, and you try not to jump as Jane hands Eridan his Coke with two straws, and looks over nervously at the guy sat with Ms Paint.

“I’ll, um, be right back with your pie,” she tells you. You can tell that Mob Guy is making her jumpy, but you don’t really want to ask her about it. The less you know about it, the better, although you can see Ms Paint kissing his cheek and wiping his tears with a napkin like he’s a kid. You wonder who died, but you doubt it’s anyone you know.

Chapter Text

The turmoil of the day seems to be washed away by the sound of the waves as you and Kanaya walk together along the beach, side by side. You keep your hands in your pockets, while Kanaya occasionally bends down to pick up shells and turn them over, but the two of you walk up and down in silence, until the words start to press at your throat, burning coldly at the back of your tongue.

Once upon a time, you would have asked before opening up to Kanaya, but now, you let the words flow out of you. She listens. She always listens. And you listen to her, when the time is right.

“Kanaya, I don’t know what to do about John.” You stop, and take your coat off, spreading it on the sand. “I don’t know what I should do in this situation, or if I’m even supposed to be doing anything at all when he’s clearly more invested in this friendship with Vriska.”

Kanaya goes still, and sits down next to you, on the very edge of your coat. You know Vriska is a sore subject, but when you pause, she looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

“I blocked her on Discord, and John rang me to ask her to unblock her. He wants to make the two of us be friends, just because of this strange friendship with her he’s been leaning into. And when I don’t agree, he acts like I’m the one at fault, even though I’m just…feeling. I used to be able to talk to him about anything, and now all I can think is that I’m losing him.” You look down at your feet. “We used to be close, Kanaya. What is it about Vriska that...” You trail off, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“Rose, do you feel like he’s replacing you with Vriska?” Kanaya puts her hand on top of yours.

You swallow.

“A little. Maybe. But it’s not about that, it’s…” You sigh. “Maybe I’m being too clingy, but I always imagined that John would always be my friend. We’ve known each other forever,Kanaya, but all it took was him meeting Vriska and suddenly they’re best friends? He hardly even talks to me anymore. He hardly even talks to Dave anymore, and they were so close.”

“Vriska can be quite bewitching,” Kanaya says, softly. She seems distant as she says it, and her hand on top of yours doesn’t seem as warm. “She knows how to make people like her. Good people. Nice people. And she likes them, but she…oh, Rose. I don’t know if she’s a better person now, but back then, she did some things that were truly reprehensible. She wouldn’t hear a word against her actions, either, but if she was happy with you, she could make you feel like the best person in the world.” She seems almost lost in memories. You have to remind yourself for a minute that she is her with you, and not years away, and even then, you don’t quite believe it.

So you wait for her, wait for her to blink slowly and look at you. Her eyes are filled with such love when she does turn, and the gentle adoration makes colour climb in your cheeks. You almost forget what you’re talking about, and who you’re discussing.

“Rose, I won’t tell you that you’re better than her, because that would be unkind to both of you.” she says, suddenly. “But you’re not her. And she’s not you. I won’t compare you, because there could be no comparison, and if John truly has put aside your friendship, then he’s a fool. A kind fool, a fool with good intentions, but a fool nonetheless. You’re the person I love most in the world, my darling, and to me, you are worth a million of Vriska. There is only one Rose Lalonde, and I am blessed that you are such a part of my life.” She looks at you, and then moves forward to press her lips softly against yours.

The gentle kiss is blissful, and you cup her cheek gently with your hand as you kiss back, leaning forward as her arm wraps around your waist and carefully tugs you closer until you’re pressed flush against her. All you can think, in that moment, is how much you love her.

It’s a little while before the two of you are walking again, and your smile has stayed on your lips. Your lipstick, however, has smudged across Kanaya’s lips, and it makes you smile even more to see it.

“So…” You raise an eyebrow at her. “Did you know that you’re incredibly poetic when you speak like that?”

She flushes, and looks down. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“I am saying it, though. You’re so wonderful with your words, Kanaya.” You take her hand, and the two of you keep walking up the beach.

Kanaya is wonderful, words or no. You feel a sense of warmth, a deep-seated happiness at her being here by your side. You treasure every second as the two of you walk along the beach.

You return home sometime later, with pockets full of seashells. (And maybe a light bruise on your neck, hidden by your hair.)

“Would you like to stay over?” you ask Kanaya, softly. She looks tempted, but regretfully shakes her head.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get to work on a commission.” She kisses your cheek softly. “But, my darling, if I could, I would. And…you could stay over tomorrow, if you would like?”

“I would very much like, Kanaya.” You resist the urge to pepper her face with kisses. She’s so sweet, and most of the time she doesn’t even realise how she fills your heart with light just by being herself.

“I’ll pick you up at midday?” she offers, and you nod, biting your lip to stop the grin from spreading across your face.

“I’ll see you then, my love,” you tell her. She hesitates, and swiftly kisses your cheek before turning and heading to her car.

You love her.

You go upstairs once her car is out of sight, and sit on your bed. You're feeling so much better from seeing Kanaya, and you settle down to start knitting. You have several pairs of needles - all of them with different projects, scattered about - and this particular one is a long mint-green scarf for Kanaya.  You've made her several during the time that you've been dating, but by now it's tradition for you to give her a cozy scarf at Christmas. Your Christmases are strange celebrations, because none of your family are particular religious. Last year, you made the biggest gingerbread house that you could, took it out back, set it on fire, and roasted marshmallows over it. It was Dave's idea, but you were all immediately up for it.

(Sometimes you worry about your family.)

You tracked down the softest wool you could for Kanaya's scarf this year, and it's a delight to work with. It's so easy to knit, and the gentle clacking of your own needles sends you into a state similar to meditation. All you have to think about is knitting the next stitch - not John, not Vriska, not even about what that whole situation might bring about. You forget about everything, and just keep knitting. Any thoughts that rise up are pushed down.

You don't want to deal with this. Not yet.

Chapter Text

The first present Rose ever gave you was a scarf.

It was made of bright green wool, which apparently was supposed to be like ghost goo. You hadn’t expected to receive more than a Christmas card, given that most people gave each other cards even if they were friends.

“This is so nice!” you told her, and she almost smiled.

“Well. I’m glad that my present is such a hit.” She handed you a card. “Here, this is for you as well.”

“Oh! I have one for you, too!”

You swapped cards in relative silence, and Rose opened hers slowly, looking it over with apparent surprise. She carefully tucked it away in her bag once she’d read it.

“Thank you, John.”

You wrapped your new scarf around your neck and beamed at her, holding your hand out. She almost took it, but hesitated.

“Come on! We can have a snowball fight with the others.” You waited, and she eventually took it.

Rose was shy, when she was younger, and a couple of times, when she stayed over at your house, she seemed surprised at how normal everything was. She’d often stay put in your room, and say nothing at dinner, but eventually you got her to talk whenever she visited.

Her big brother, Dirk, was very similar, although he was thirteen, and therefore impossibly old to you at the age of eight. Roxy, her big sister, was very talkative, and she seemed like the complete opposite of Rose.

You remember when you first learned that she had a twin brother, who lived in Texas, because she was quite quiet about it. In fact, it was Jade who ended up telling you excitedly about Rose being a twin.

“They’re not alike at all!” she’d said, in front of Rose, who’d raised an eyebrow and gone back to reading Northern Lights.

“Wait, if he’s your twin, why doesn’t he live with you?” you’d asked, confused.

Rose looked up, and turned the page. “Because my father doesn’t,” she said, simply.

Rose rarely talked about her dad, and treated your father very politely, as though she wasn’t sure how else to treat him. It kind of made you wonder how often she got to see her dad, although you didn’t ask her immediately. It was an awkward thing to bring up.

However, you did notice that Roxy and Dirk didn’t mention him either, and eventually, you started to wonder about her brother, and when you asked Rose, she virtually introduced the two of you.

Even though Dave quickly became your best friend, Rose and you stayed close. And you were there for her when things went bad. When Dirk left, she was distraught, and became more withdrawn for the entire year. But even when she wasn’t really talking to you, refusing to open up, you didn’t stop being friends. She still sat with you at lunch, and listened to you and Jade talking.

You wanted to ask why Dirk had moved out, but the few times you tried, Rose didn’t want to talk. You caught her crying in the library, though, and you sat down next to her and waited.

“Dirk isn’t coming back,” she hiccupped. “Mom asked him if he’s coming for Christmas, and he said he wouldn’t. He’s changed his name, too. Not legally. He changed it all over, though. I heard people calling—calling him Strider. That’s Dad’s name! Why would he do that?”

“Why’s he not coming back?” you asked, reaching over to take her hand. She sniffled.

“Because Mom won’t stop acting like she always does. She always…I’ve looked it up. She’s not meant to be like that. Moms and dads aren’t supposed to be like mine.” She looked up at you with red eyes. “Your dad is so nice, John. You’re never going to know what it’s like. I…Dirk and Roxy are the ones I rely on, and Dirk’s gone. He’s moved out and he doesn’t care about me.”

“Of course he cares about you!” You flung your arms around her, hugging her tight. “He’s your brother, and I know that he loves you, Rose. I do!”

“Then why did he leave?” she wailed, and clung to you. You didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t stop hugging her until she stopped crying and pulled back. The bell for class had rung, but neither of you moved for a moment.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” she told you, in a tiny voice. “Dirk cleared out his room, and Roxy’s not great at remembering when we run out of groceries.”

You took her hand again, and squeezed it. “I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind if you stayed over tonight.”

“I’ll need my clothes for tomorrow, though,” she said, as though it was an obstacle.

“We’ll ask Roxy to get them for you,” you assured her, not letting go of her hand. She didn’t let go either.

That night, she opened up to you about her family. About how her mother hadn’t ever really been a great mother, about how Dirk got the groceries and acted like more of a parent than either her mom or dad did. About how her mother and she always fought, about her mom drinking. About how she and her siblings relied on each other.

About how Dave lived with her dad, and she didn’t know which of her parents counted as worse. Mom, with her poor parenting skills, non-existent household skills, and drinking problem, or her father, who insisted on living in Texas and maintaining no contact. About how Dirk had sat her down and told her that their parents had done a Parent Trap and taken a twin each when their marriage broke up.

It was a lot to process, and all you could see was how Rose was hurting.

“I love Dave. But he feels so distant to me. You’re supposed to grow up with your twin, John, and my parents just acted like we were…like it was fair to treat either of us like that. I want Dave to be here, and I don’t want to live with my mom anymore. I…wish she was a real mom. I wish my father acted like a real dad. He didn’t want me, and even if Mom did, she doesn’t act like she does now.” She’d huddled up next to you in the blanket fort you’d made by bringing the dining room chairs up while she waited. You hugged her close.

“You deserve good parents, Rose.”

She’d sniffled, again. You weren’t used to seeing her cry, so you hugged her again.

“John…what’s it like to have your dad?” she asked, after a little while.

“It’s…good, I guess? He’s my dad. He plays games with me, and even if he likes clowns and baking, he’s still my dad. He tells me he’s proud of me, and takes me to the beach.” You frowned. “This one time, he put a cake outside my room on my birthday, and I stepped right in the middle of it.”

She giggled a little. “Really?”

“Yeah! He’s great at pranks. And sometimes we watch old movies together, and I dunno, he’s just my dad, and I love him.”

Rose’s smile had fallen from her face, and she looked up at you with big, wet eyes.

“John?” She’d looked so small, you remember that so clearly. “I don’t…I don’t know if I love my mom.”

It had shocked you, then. You hadn’t known what to say, or do, but she’d hugged you tightly, like you were a life raft. Looking back on it, you probably were.

Knowing what you know now, after years of little hints and reveals (mostly from Dave, when he was working through things), you’re not shocked anymore. The Strider-Lalonde siblings had parents who didn’t really try, who made a mess of things. Dave has a scar on his ribs from his dad, and all four of them have various insecurities that stem from the parenting they received. You haven’t seen Roxanne Lalonde since she allowed Dirk to become the legal guardian of his siblings, and you never met ‘Bro’. You’re glad, in a way.

You feel like your friendship with Rose at the minute, however, is like a burning plane, spiralling down with no way to land safely. Rose was angry with you, all because you want her to make friends with Vriska. Vriska, who is just as hurt as Rose ever was.

No one would think of you and Vriska Serket as two people who would ever be friends. You know that, because everyone who knows you’re friends with her has reacted with shock, or gotten a concerned look in their eye. But they don’t know the friendship that the two of you have.

You made friends with Vriska when you were both sat in the ice cream parlour, and you saw her trying not to cry over her giant ice cream. You took yours over to her little booth, and ended up asking her why she was crying.

“This is my favourite flavour,” she’d told you, “and I don’t have anyone to eat it with because all those losers in our class hate me.”

You’d swallowed, but hadn’t moved.

“So do you want some help with that?” you’d asked, tentatively.

Vriska was like Rose, like Dave, and like nobody else. She loved fun – she still explored all the places that were covered in ‘DANGER’ signs – and she would talk about everything while not really talking about anything. To you, Vriska Serket seems to be made of broken glass, but somehow, that’s just how she is, and you don’t have the urge to whip out the superglue unless she asks you.

She’d never seen a Nicolas Cage movie before the two of you started hanging out, but she’s got one hell of a memory, and now you and she can quote Con Air back and forth at each other until the sun dips out of the sky. She pushes you – sometimes unnecessarily – but she was the first person you opened up to about the Secret. The Big-Fucking-Secret Secret.

And she didn’t care. Well, she did, but not in the way you were afraid she would. She promised to keep your secret, and then insisted that the two of you sit down and watch City of Angels while she painted your toenails the same cerulean blue as her fingernails.

“Who would you pick? Seth, or Poe?” she’d asked, like it was a normal day, and you hadn’t put your life in her hands.

“If I had to, I’d pick Seth.” You’d given her a wobbly smile, and she’d winked at you.

You wish that just once, everyone could see Vriska in the same light that you do.

Chapter Text

Sitting with Aradia is very strange and very good, all at the same time. She, as it turns out, likes Cookie Dough, whereas you’re more of a Baked Alaska fellow. When you order, she raises an eyebrow.

“I would have figured you were more of a vanilla guy, myself,” she says, and you wish you had a drink to spit out.

“Really?” you ask instead, deadpan, and she almost giggles – you see her lips twitch – but instead, she heads to the booth, without replying.

Now, you’re both sat down, and she’s opening up to you about her weird thing with Zahhak. Except, as it turns out, it’s more his weird thing with her.

“Do you remember when I was dating Sollux?” she asks. You do, in fact, remember that. They’re one of the few people you’ve ever seen who managed to actually remain friends after they split. You nod.

“Well, Equius didn’t like that. He’s never liked Sollux, I think. The two of them have some weird history of Equius trying to have competitions with him. Sollux never starts shit, but he does win, which I think Equius doesn’t like. And…well, our siblings knew each other, so we’ve always kind of hung out. Me and Equius, I mean. Not by choice, though.”

She sighs, and you think she’s struggling to find a way to say it that isn’t terrible.

“He kissed me, after my accident,” she says, suddenly. “He said he’d always liked me. I think he thought it would make me like him, but I was still dating Sollux. And I felt so awful. I feel like I should have moved, but instead I just…stood there. Like a sheep.”

“Shit,” you say, genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry, Aradia.”

She looks down. “I knew he liked me. I guess I just thought that if he didn’t want to respect the fact it wasn’t mutual, he’d at least respect the fact I was in a relationship. But…he didn’t. And he thought because I didn’t push him away, it meant I liked him back. And then I had to tell him over text that I was just uncomfortable…” She runs a hand through her mess of hair. “And I haven’t known where we stand since. It’s so weird. But when he kissed me, I think he thought he was better than Sollux.”

You take a spoonful of ice cream, and swallow, before speaking.

“The way I see it, if Captor isn’t the type to kiss a girl who’s in a relationship just because he likes her, I’d say he’s definitely better than Zahhak.” You shake your head. “I mean, come on, does he seriously think he can do that? Dude’s messed up.”

“I think he thought it was the right thing, in a way. He’s not a bad person overall. He just…I don’t know. I think he regrets it, but he’s…he…” She gives up, and starts eating her ice cream, hunting the little chunks of cookie.

“Did you guys not talk about it in person?” you ask, slowly.

“No. I freeze up whenever I see him. And…I told Sollux, but…” She looks torn. “I just felt so guilty. Because if I say it like…like I do, it sounds like I’m trying to start a witch hunt. Equius isn’t a bad person. At the time, we were having this really…good conversation. And I think he blamed Sollux somehow for me getting hurt, and I don’t think he was thinking straight.”

“Wait, wasn’t it just you, ‘Rezi, and Spiderbitch in the warehouse?” you object, and she nods.

“Equius thinks girls need protecting. Blame his dad for that. Mr Zahhak’s super traditional, he thinks women shouldn’t be sentenced to death. He’s also…kinda…you know. He and Equius both hate Damara.” She waves her hands, like she’s trying to catch the words she needs. “Equius thinks that as it was a dangerous place, Sollux should have gone with me. He was in a weird place after I got hurt like that, but he’s never apologised for kissing me. It’s so messed up.”

She’s getting scrambled, so you reach over and pat her hand. She looks grateful, and you take another mouthful of ice cream.

“So, you think he’s a good person?” you ask. She looks conflicted.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think he’s a bad person. I just think he’s wrong about things. I don’t know for sure that he’s a good person, but I couldn’t say he was a bad person. I think he’s just…the person he is. He’s protective of Nepeta, too, to the same degree, so I know it wasn’t just about me. But Nepeta doesn’t appreciate that attitude either.” She carves a large chunk out of the middle of her ice cream. “But Sollux thinks he’s awful. So do other people.”

“My brother doesn’t mind him.” You raise your eyebrows. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Dirk would mind if he knew about Zahhak playing Georgie-Porgie with you, but he’s said before he’s a good kid. I think they watch My Little Pony together.”

“Georgie-Porgie?” Her lips do that little laughter-twitch again. “Really?”

“Kissed the girl, didn’t he?” You shake your head. “Man, oh man, me and my classical references go over your head, don’t we?”

“Sailing over,” she confirms. “You want to know something messed up?”

“Shoot.”

“I’m madder over the fact that he treats Damara like she was the one in the wrong than I am about him kissing me,” she says, nibbling her lip slightly.

“Really?” Your own lips twitch. “Are you serious?”

This girl has put up with Equius Zahhak, who used to sweat so much in gym he looked like he’d been swimming, who sniffed whenever you rambled. She’s put up with him putting his feelings before hers. She’s put up with him treating her like fine china, which must be pretty fucking annoying. But her sister being treated like some kind of Mary Magdalene is what tips her over the edge?

“Man, Megido, you’re really something,” you say, eventually. And you mean it, every word. You don’t know why Equius Zahhak thinks she’s fragile, or needs protecting by him, because she is practically carved from diamond, and there’s something about her that makes you want to ask her to be your friend. Like you’re five again, on the playground: will you play with me?

“I am,” she confirms, and you grin, without trying to stop it.

“So, when you said you knew he liked you…” you ask, once you stop smiling.

“Oh, he used to put poetry in my locker. And he always asked me if I was doing anything on Valentine’s Day. And…just so many other things. I did try, you know. I asked him to stop with the poetry. And I wanted to bring it up. I just…found it hard. How do you tell someone that you know they have feelings for you and that you don’t like them back? At thirteen? Nowadays, I’d probably just say that, but it’s harder when you’re younger, you know?”

“Oh yeah. Seventeen is so old.” You raise an eyebrow. “Poetry? Really?”

“He’s actually a good poet. It’s just embarrassing to see handwriting you know pretending to be a secret admirer.” She shakes her head. “That’s in the past now, though. But that’s why it got so awkward. And now we talk like that.”

“Man, it’s like you’re divorced or something. And you two didn’t even date.” You’re trying to keep it light enough that she can keep talking, but you’re a bit worried that you sound like you’re not taking her seriously. Luckily, she actually laughs this time.

“I guess it is. And neither of us got the dignity in the split.”

“That’s the spirit.” You pat her hand again. “Besides, maybe you can take a page out of your sister’s book and total his car.”

She can’t stop laughing this time for a good minute, and she’s wheezing for air. You like her laugh – it’s very genuine.

“Dave, if I do that, everyone will assume me and my family are criminals. Criminals, Dave.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Like we’re in a car-smashing mob or something.”

“Man, you in the mob? I can picture that.” Your ice cream is melting slightly, but you keep talking. “You’d be the boss, and Damara would be the muscle. Oh, wait, no, your mom would be the boss, and you’d be like the sweet one who was kind of the second-in-command.”

“Our secret weapon would be Dad and the packet of cigarettes he went out for,” she adds on.

“You’d have to get Kanaya in on this business to make you suits.”

“Ooh, would I suit a suit?” she asks, delighted. “I like the idea of a suit. But maybe with a skirt?”

“Do you ever wear anything else? I swear I’ve never seen you in anything but long old lady skirts. No offence meant.”

“They’re romantic,” she says, and then her lips twitch again at the way your face stays still. “Nah, I just like them. I do wear trousers if I’m off exploring or climbing, though.”

You wonder, just for a second, if she was wearing trousers when the accident happened. Probably. You wonder if she goes exploring nearly as much these days.

“Where do you even get stuff like that?” you ask. She shrugs.

“Goth shops, online, secondhand…I don’t often need to replace them, they’re kind of made to last.” She’s nearly finished her tub of ice cream, holding it at an angle and scraping. “I mean, if I’m in the mob, they have to be, right?”

Yeah, right. As if this girl could ever be part of the mob. You grin, and get to finishing off your own tub.

Chapter Text

You leave the diner with a stomach full of pie and a bad feeling about the mob guy. Jane waved as you left, but she was so nervous around the guy that you caught the bug and couldn’t help glancing at him even as he was leaving.

He was still crying, but fuck, he was still a scary fucking guy. You think today is going to be a bad day for business if he stays in town

Eridan, on the other hand, is fully fucking happy as always, and seems to be looking around like it’s the best day ever. For someone who’s as old as your brother, he’s weirdly childlike. It kind of reminds you of that one guy whose little brother is friends with Karkat. You swear that whole family is hopped up on weed and more, but Karkat’s friend couldn’t be more chill. Except for that one time when Dave pushed it way too far and you had to step in real fast.

Maybe whatever happened with Eridan did something to his brain. He’s responding more than he did yesterday, though, so you’re turning that little mystery over in your brain. It’s almost like he’s coming off of medication or something, like something’s coming out of his system.

But what? What could be in his system, and why?

You’re interrupted in your thoughts, however, as Eridan steps in front of you, walking along like he’s never been happier. You guess that’s not a problem, as it stands. The singing might be, but maybe the way he’s acting is as normal for him as it is for Makara Junior.

You are also interrupted by the sight of Damara Megido storming towards you, hair loose and around her shoulders. She seems upset, to say the least.

“You’d think he’d have expected something like that after calling me a crazy bitch!” She points a finger at you. “What the hell did he think I was going to do, huh? Get over him as soon as he said I should? He’s not even worth the effort.”

You wish that she didn’t know that you understand everything she’s saying. She glances at Eridan briefly before catching your hands in hers.

“I’m going crazy. I’m going to be the psychopath he keeps telling everyone I am. And I’m not ready for that.”

“Fuck’s sakes, Damara.” You’re getting the feeling she has some bad news for you.

See, while she may be the girl who posts weird photos on your Facebook, she’s also your friend. It’s not what you’d call a healthy friendship. Or really a proper friendship.

You’d liken it to the sort of friendship survivors from the Titanic might have had. You were both in the fledgeling anime club that Rufioh started up, even though you were a year older than her. If you hadn’t immediately sussed out that most people like Rufioh, you might have been tempted to let yourself like him. You’ve got a weakness for boys like that. Guys who have a sort of sunshine to them. It can attract you like nothing else.

But Damara, who was shy, and nervous, back then, still had a determination to her that made you think it was an idea not to fuck around with whatever mess that would turn out to be. Plus, once you saw the way things were going with her and Rufioh, you really didn’t want to be anywhere near that. Just little things triggered your danger senses – the way Rufioh would make little suggestions and the way Damara was desperate to lean into them. The way Rufioh would seem scared by how easily she would.

It’s old history. But whenever anything has gone wrong, you’ve been there to listen, because fuck knows most other people take one look at the pair of them and know where they want to place the blame. The social butterfly/golden boy? Or the girl with the weird mother who dresses like she was designed by a shonen manga?

Plus, Damara explains better in a language you only bothered to learn because you were a giant nerd. Most people wouldn’t listen to her. They’ll gloss over the fact Rufioh had someone waiting in the wings before breaking up with her. They don’t listen, and you do. And she knows it.

However, because Damara didn’t break up with Rufioh, she occasionally has Bad Times. Times where she posts long rants, or confronts him, or does something that would get anyone into hot water. Last time, it was a commissioned virus to his laptop that she paid the Captor kid to send. It completely fucked it.

“ What did you do?” you ask, as Eridan looks at Damara with wide eyes from next to you.

“ He deserved it. ”

“Not what I said. What did you do to Rufioh, Damara?”

“ I did to his stupid car what he did to my heart. I battered it until it was useless. Just like him.” She almost looks pleased, unless you know her, really know her.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes, Damara. Come on.” You raise your arm, and she comes to lean against you.

“ Cute kid, by the way. He your boy toy or something? Help you get over English?”

“We’re looking after him. He turned up unexpectedly. And I don’t need help getting over English.” You look down at her as you walk along. You almost look like the stereotypical bad kids, you guess – the tall, stubbly guy in sunglasses strolling along with a girl under his arm. “You smashed his car. I think that’s crossing a line.”

“ It’s not my fault! He broke up with me.”

“ His breaking up with you was shitty, but you shouldn’t keep doing this, Damara. It just keeps the anger about it fresh. Every time you do this, you come find me, and then we have a chat, watch something at my place, but it’s not even been three weeks since you got that kid to total his laptop. What are you aiming for? What’s the end goal?”

“ He has nothing left.” Her gaze slips back to Eridan. “ And if you want to preach, you can stand behind Aradia, my mother, the Zahhaks, and all those other nosy fucks who think my business is theirs.”

“Have you never heard that living well is the best revenge? You’re just making yourself unhappy. Again. We always have this talk and you never do anything differently. Do you want to be doing this again? And again? All your life?”

She looks down, and doesn’t answer.

“Fuck it. You’re right. You’ve got other people telling you the same thing, and if you don’t listen to them, you won’t listen to me. Why would you when I’ve barely got my own shit together?” You keep walking. “At least you talk to Rufioh.”

“ I scream at him.”

“Well, you used to scream at him when you were dating. Your communication was shit anyway.” You shrug.

“ Yours sucks more than a hopeful woman thinking she’ll be in movies some day.”

“Wow, way to keep it clean in front of the kid. He’s, like, seventeen.” Eridan barely reacts to that, though, and if he understood that, you’ll drink your screen cleaner.

“ Who cares? When I was his age, I was innocent. It doesn’t last.”

“ You weren’t innocent when you were his age, Damara. I saw your DVD collection. Hell, you never closed your browser tabs either.” And you’re scarred for life.

Eventually, bickering, you make it back home and set up in the upstairs living room with some golden oldies of 90’s anime and a big bowl of popcorn. Damara snuggles up on one side of you, and Eridan sits bolt upright on your other side while the first episode starts to play. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, and you’re getting drawn into the story when something clicks in your brain and you sit bolt upright, dislodging Damara, who starts cussing you out before you grab her shoulders.

“Damara, have you checked your phone?” you ask her, urgently. Behind you, Eridan is watching the two of you sleepily. Damara shrugs.

“ Just Mom doing her usual freak out. Why?”

“ Can you ring her? Like, right the fuck now? I can drive you home, I just need to get my keys, okay?”

She looks almost scared, and you let go of her, while she fumbles for her phone. It’s been turned on silent, by the looks of things, but there’s missed calls flashing up as she opens it and starts calling her mother.

It’s a short conversation, with Damara asking why and saying I’m busy until all the colour drains out of her face and tears spring to her eyes.

“ I have to go home. Please, Dirk. Can you take me home?” she asks, in a small tone that you haven’t heard from her mouth in years. You nod, curtly, and look at Eridan worriedly. You’ll probably need to bring him with you, right? Fuck. Yes, you will.

Your brain was turning things over again, and you remembered Mob Guy mentioning a car. And you remembered that Hana is Damara’s mom’s name, although you just know her as Ms Megido. And you thought he said Hannah when he was first talking, but how many women are going to be called Hannah or Hana and also have an oldest child that smashed up a car today in a town like Meteor Bay? Especially if you haven’t heard about it?

Which means that there’s a pretty large chance that the guy who’s dead is Damara’s dad.

Chapter Text

Today went from bad to good to worse.

You don’t remember much about your father. You remember a man in a suit, you remember him picking you up from kindergarten and holding you in his arms on the way home. But you barely remember that.

Your mother let you know in not too many words that what he was up to wasn’t technically legal. He lived in another city, and she would always keep an eye on anything kicking off in the news from there. She’d also tell you off whenever you got into trouble, and say that she didn’t want you to end up like your father. You suspect she’s given up on saying as much to Damara.

But there is a man in your kitchen, with a shifty look and a scar across his eye, telling you that your father is dead. Shot dead. You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, but you do know that the whole thing is slightly surreal and you’re not sure that this feeling is a good one. You feel like you’d like to reverse time to before you came home, back to when you and Dave were sat in the ice cream shop, before you got the text asking you to come home. The man in front of you is like a caricature from a parody mob movie. You can’t stop looking at him.

Damara, on the other hand, has run upstairs and slammed the door to her room. You should probably go talk to her – she remembers your father way better than you do – but you’re trying to process this for yourself.

“I can’t stay, Hana. The dame let me come here to tell you, but I can’t stay for too long or she’s allowed to have my guts for garters.”

Your mother is stood by the open window with an ashtray, frozen in time. You think you will remember her like she currently is for the rest of your life, as she stands there. Carved from stone, with only the smoke waving out of the cigarette she holds indicating that she isn’t a statue. She doesn’t seem to hear or see anything.

You cautiously sit down at the table, opposite the guy, and study him. He seems jittery and sad, and angry.

“Dammit, Hana, please! Speak to me!” He slaps the table, making you jump. “Please!”

Your mother doesn’t move, eyes on something in the distance. You wonder what it is, but continue to look at the man in front of you, who finally turns his eyes to you.

“Are you the younger one?” he asks.

“Aradia.” You offer him your hand, and he takes it, gingerly shaking it. You think he probably has no idea what to do now. Now that he’s given your mother the bad news, now that she’s ignoring him.

“Who’s the dame who says you have to leave?” you ask him. He flinches.

“Old friend. She says I’m not allowed in the city, but I had to come to tell your mother and you girls, you see? It’s allowed under the circumstances.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. If it’d help any, I’d let your ma shoot the messenger.”

“It wouldn’t. I bet you have people who care about you.”

His face softens. There’s someone, you know, just from the way his eyes become warm, even for a second. From that expression, you’d put your money on a lover.

A small part of your brain wants to ask you what the hell the point is in psychoanalyzing this man when he’s here to tell you that your father is dead. Your father.

“Desmond is gone. No sense in having you gone as well.” Your mother finally turns around. “It was always going to end this way. I was a fool to hope that it wouldn’t. At least I held no hope of his returning.”

“Hana, you know he missed you guys.” The guy stands up, and walks halfway over to your mother, who holds her hands up.

“Don’t. Don’t try to touch me, Jack. He knew what he was doing when he went off to make a widow of me. He chose that life over being a husband, being a father, because it was more important to him to make dirty money in that dirty little town. At least you didn’t start out with a family. We weren’t worth enough to him.”

“He’d been at it when you met, Hana. A family ain’t a magical cure all! He thought he was doing the right thing for you. For you and your girls.” Jack doesn’t get closer to your mother, but he does keep talking. “He used to miss you all the time.”

“Not enough to get out of that life. Look at me. I managed it!” Your mother draws herself up to her full height. “I made a new life here. I offered him that same chance, and he took it. But it wasn’t enough. I know it wasn’t enough. It was never as easy as Derse was. So don’t you stand in my house, Jack, and preach to me about my husband, because I know him. I know him, and I know what got him killed.” She narrows her eyes. “If you don’t wise up, it might even get you killed.”

“Mom!” You spring up from your chair. She almost looks as though she regrets her words, but comes to stand by you.

“I think you should leave, Jack. Like you say, there are people in this town that want you out of it. Leave me and my daughters to grieve.”

He curses under his breath, but picks up his coat from the back of the chair and storms out of your kitchen. You turns around to your mother and you see her eyes glittering with tears. You want to say something; tell her that Jack must be grieving too, that he’s taken some risk you’re not fully aware of in coming to tell you, but it’s futile. One thing you well know about your mother is whatever you want to tell her, she will already know.

And what you know is that despite everything she says, she’s always been in love with your father. There’s a photo of him in her wallet, and she only ever sleeps on one side of the double bed in her room. She’s been missing him for years. You open your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off.

“Aradia, go upstairs, please.” She hugs you tightly. “Make sure your sister is okay.”

And so, you do. You leave your mother downstairs wiping her eyes furiously, and go up to Damara’s room instead.

You rarely go in here. Usually, it’s Damara who comes to your room when upset, and when you were younger she wisely kept you out. Whether that was to do with all of the weird stuff she has in here, or the company she kept in here, you’re not quite sure, but you push the door open gently.

Your sister is huddled on the bed, a blanket wrapped around her as she cries. You’re not sure how best to approach this, so you move to just sit next to her, and find her wrapping her arms around you and holding you close.

“He was...a good father.” She looks you in the eyes. “He loved us so much. He did.”

You feel something like a weight sinking into you. “I wish I remembered,” you say. “I remember him taking me home, and holding me. I can’t remember him.”

“He used to let me choose horses,” Damara says, unexpectedly. “Horses to put money on. And I picked names. Pretty names.”

“Hold on. He let you bet on horses?” You sit up a little. “Damara, Dad used to let you bet on horses?”

“Horuss must never know,” she says, seriously, and the two of you burst into weak laughter. It’s the kind of laughter that only just keeps tears at bay. The kind of laughter that’s a stopgap between more tears.

“He was kind,” she says, when the two of you manage to stop. “Kind. He put band-aids on your knees. Didn’t know how you got scraped, but always put the plasters on.”

You want to remember something like that. You know you were very accident prone as a kid, because you always wanted to explore – whether where you were exploring was safe or not. The idea of your father having no clue how you got hurt but helping you anyway makes your heart long for what Damara has. You wish you had more memories with him than the few that have managed to survive his absence. You wish you remembered him more than you do.

Damara wraps her arms tighter around you, and you finally start to sniffle. Sniffling turns into stinging eyes, and before you know it, you’re leaning against your big sister as you cry for the loss of your father. A father you barely knew, but who still loved you. Who loved you, loved Damara, loved your mother, but still put himself in enough danger that it killed him.

You don’t know what time it is when you wake up, but you and Damara must have fallen asleep like that. You shiver as your eyes snap open.

You know what your father looks like now. You had a horrible, horrible dream.

You were somewhere with tall trees, overlooking a lake. You think you must have been about five, and you were about to step into the lake when a hand grabbed your wrist and the features you’ve been straining to remember flashed up as your father pulled you back on shore.

“Aradia, girl. You can’t go there. It’s too deep.”

You went to hug him, but shots rang out, and he fell into the lake. You jumped in after him, as old as you are now, but instead of your father, you saw a boy floating with a scarf tangled around his neck. He seemed to be glowing under the water, and even though you looked around everywhere, your father was gone, and the boy was there.

A boy, you realise now that you're awake, that you recognise. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, but you have no idea why all of a sudden you would be dreaming about Eridan Ampora.

Chapter Text

Your brother is twitchy all throughout breakfast, and he keeps looking at your dad like he wants to say something. Eventually, he clears his throat.

“Father, I want to invite a friend to dinner on Sunday,” he says, in a rush. “After the bake sale.”

Oooh. You immediately pretend to be super interested in the last few floating Fruit Loops, while your dad looks puzzled.

“Porrim can come round any time she likes, Kankri,” he says. Kankri goes red.

“Porrim is not my only friend! Why do you and Karkat--” He stops himself. “Never mind. It’s not Porrim.”

Now your dad’s paying attention properly, and you really hope he asks what the girl’s name is. Not that you want your brother to be embarrassed, but you kinda do. Even if he did get a significant other before you did.

“Well, who is this friend, then?”

“A friend I met at college. Sort of. It’s complicated.” Kankri picks up his slightly-burnt toast. “He- They’re in town for a couple of days with...” He takes a deep breath. “He’s coming back to town for a couple of days, and he was wanting to hang out. So I was hoping he could come to dinner.”

Both you and your father look at each other. The way Kankri is asking, there’s no mistaking why he’s asking, but aside from Latula, there’s never been any inclination towards anyone else. You clear your throat, and your dad reaches over to pat Kankri’s hand.

“Of course he can come to dinner, Kankri. It’ll be my turn to cook – do you know what he likes to eat?”

“He’s not got any...preferences, I think? Oh...but he does like salmon.” Kankri looks between the two of you, relief clear on his face, and you realise he might have actually been pretty worried over it. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Not only is he in a relationship first, but he just got out of a boat you didn’t even realise you were sharing with him.

You want to scream to the heavens. It would be so easy right now to say something. Say, hey, while we’re at it, guys, I’m also not heterosexual! But this is a moment that Kankri is having. You feel like there’s some unspoken rule that you can’t come out at the same time as your sibling. That it would be a really bad idea to rock the boat. You could cry . Kankri, for all you look down your stupid nose at him, has managed to do what you can’t in one fell swoop. He’s got a boyfriend, and he’s come out to your dad.

You guys are heavily involved in the church. Your father has the opinion of everyone being one of God’s children, and he’s never said anything against the LGBT+ community. Kanaya is openly a lesbian and your father has never treated her differently. But somehow, you’ve always been afraid to come out to your dad, because coming out to your dad also means you have to talk about the thing. The reason why John’s so angry at you. The reason why everything is messed up. It’s all because of you.

Why is it so easy for Kankri, and why is it not easy for you? You almost can’t hear the two of them chatting away about plans for Sunday, which inanely enough includes who’s bringing what to the bake sale and how to make sure that old Mrs Dooley doesn’t bring the same thing as Mrs Harley. You want to grab Kankri and make him tell you why it’s so easy for him.

Which.

It’s a pretty terrible idea, but you catch his elbow as he’s helping clear the table.

“Kankri, can we...talk?”

He seems guarded, and you gesture towards where your room is.

“Karkat, can it wait?” he asks, sighing a little. You shake your head, because no, it can’t, and he puts down the dishes and steers you by the shoulders into your room.

“Is this about what I said at breakfast?” he asks, sternly. You sit down on your bed, heavily.

“Kind of. Not really. Yes, really. Fuck! This isn’t supposed to be this hard! How was it so easy for you? How do you just come out and say something like that to Dad? It’s never been that easy!”

He looks kind of taken aback, and you try to explain.

“It wasn’t that easy for me, Kankri! It didn’t go easy at all with me. I messed everything up by doing what you just did, and you’re you, and you managed to just...casually ask Dad if you can bring your boyfriend to dinner? What the hell?”

For once, Kankri keeps his mouth shut about your language, and instead sits next to you.

“Karkat. I know I’m not the best big brother in the world, but are you trying to...come out to me?” he asks, confused. “Why didn’t you say anything at the table?”

“Because you did! That’s not a situation that exactly opens up the floor for me to jump on the fucking bandwagon like a spotlight-grabbing asshole and mess things up again, it’s very specifically your time!” You sink your head into your hands. “How the hell did you even get a boyfriend anyway?”

“He liked me first, and I told him we had to take things slow. As friends. We’ve been on a few dates, and we communicated, which I’m beginning to think you have a serious issue with, Karkat.”

“No shit.” You look up at Kankri, who seems actually concerned. “I...I just want to talk about it. With someone who isn’t going to be mad at me.”

“Well...” Kankri puts a hand on your shoulder. “Who was mad at you?”

“John.”

Kankri genuinely looks shocked, and you try to explain.

“He’s...He’s not mad that I’m bi, not really. But the way I feel? It’s ruined everything. And it’s stupid, because I know that it’s not me being bi, but where it went all wrong, I feel like I can never come out again. But I’ll have to. Over, and over, and over. And I’ll have to deal with assholes who’ll think I’m not gay enough, or straight enough, or that it’s just some phase. Like, you have to be this old to be properly bisexual! If you’re seventeen, it’s just a dumb phase!” You throw your hands in the air. “And I know that the last person to be an asshole is Dad, but I would have thought the same of John. He’s – He was one of my best friends, and now he hates me. He hates me, Kankri.”

“What happened?” Kankri asks. His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“I told John that I...You’ve gotta promise me that none of this leaves this fucking room, Kankri. Don’t even tell your dumb boyfriend.”

“I promise.” He wrinkles his nose. “Although he’s not dumb. I mean, he might seem a little...strange, but he’s actually rather smart--”

“Kankri!”

“Not the point. Go on, Karkat.”

“Well, John asked me first, okay? He’d been acting weird whenever me and Dave hung out by our own, and then he was acting weird when we were together. And then he just...asked me if I liked Dave. And I didn’t want to lie to him, Kankri. I didn’t want to stand there and say no, when I...I do, I like Dave.” You look down at the floor. “But I’ve not done anything about it because I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. And it would. So instead I started coming out to John right after admitting I like Dave, and he just...lost it. He said I’d ruined everything, that I was pushing him out, and I was being selfish. As if I don’t already know that! Why the fuck does he think I’m not telling Dave?”

“John said all that?” Kankri looks at you, and then awkwardly wraps his arms around you. It’s a very clunky, awkward hug.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you.”

“Why?” You don’t push him away, but you don’t hug him back either, and he puts his chin on top of your head.

“Because he shouldn’t have said those things to you. At all. And he shouldn’t be acting like this, and no matter what he said when the two of you argued, it is not your fault. Feelings happen, Karkat. It’s what we do with them that matters, and even if the other person doesn’t return them, it’s your actions that matter. Having feelings for Dave isn’t something to feel guilty over.”

“If it means I’ve been pushing John away, it is.” You half-lean into the awkward hug.

“But have you?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know how to act around Strider, or what even to say when he asks me why John’s acting like that. I don’t know what to say to John. I don’t know why I keep somehow thinking there’s a happily ever after to this, when in all likelihood I’m going to go off to college, graduate, and flip burgers all my life and make awkward no-eye-contact with Dave Strider and his 2.5 kids with whatever perfect person he ends up with!”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying that far into the future, Karkat.” Kankri lets you go. “ButI can certainly say that if you never know, it’ll torment you. I kept my feelings about Latula a secret for years, until I finally decided to face up to myself and tell her.”

You...didn’t know that. He sighs as you look up at him.

“Father was right. The way I acted was inexcusable, especially not if I tried to excuse it with my feelings for her. So one day, I went up to her, and I told her that I had feelings for her, but also that I accepted she was in a relationship. I didn’t know that I’d accepted it until I started talking, but she was kind enough to hear me out. She said that she thought I had feelings for a very different person. This sort of image I had on a pedestal. And then she smiled, and she said she hoped getting it out in the open had helped. And in a way, it had. It helped me get over her, focus on things that I liked, rather than things that would impress her. Honesty is a very good policy.” He frowns. “And even if John said all that, it’s very out of character. I doubt he’s being honest, but neither are you. Even if you get rejected, you should tell Dave.”

“What? No! Kankri, did you not hear what I said? It’ll ruin our friendship.”

“If it does, it’s not a friendship worth having. You’ll have to tell him at some point, anyway, or it’ll ruin it regardless.” Kankri raises his eyebrows. “I’m not friends with Latula anymore for the same reason. And with you, little brother, it’s worse. I was overly friendly. You’re going to be overly prickly to Dave with no reason behind it.”

“Oh, fuck you!” You start pushing him. “That’s it, Kankri. Get out of my room. Go preach somewhere else.”

“Fine.” He seems almost unphased as he walks out the door, and you resist the urge to throw a pillow at him as he leaves, but only because you’ll have to walk across the room to get it.

You can’t do that. You absolutely cannot look Dave Fucking Strider in the face and tell him that when you look at him, you want to kiss him. That you want to hold his hand, ask him out on Valentine’s Day, and give him flowers. That every crappy romance novel you’ve ever read starts coming to life when you think about him.

Because what will happen is that he’ll feel uncomfortable turning you down, and then the two of you will never speak again. And you can’t handle that. And you hate that there’s a little part of you that wants to believe he’d like you back. Especially when you were there for all those years when he and John made those dumb ‘no homo’ jokes. You just used to let Kanaya smack them for it, when she was around, but it made you feel like you were gross whenever they said it. It wasn’t like you could talk to Gamzee about it, either, because the dumbass fucking hates Dave.

So you just kind of sat there. And said nothing.

Like you’re doing now.

Goddamnit, you hate it when Kankri’s right.

Chapter Text

Your dreams that night are weird, again.

You sleep at the foot of the bed, while Eridan dozes off, and as you fall asleep you can hear Eridan humming to himself. You almost get up to tell him to quit it, but you can’t be bothered after everything that’s happened.

And so, you dream.

In your dreams, you are by that lake, and you watch as a kid sits on the little pier, scowling at the water. You think that’s Eridan, because the scarf is wrapped around his neck, but he’s younger. Maybe twelve or so? You walk over slowly and sit next to him, but he doesn’t see you.

A tall, older man is walking towards the two of you, slowly and stiffly, from the direction of the house that you can just about see in the distance. He looks regretful, and when Eridan notices him, he buries his nose into his scarf and turns away.

“Danny,” the man calls, but Eridan doesn’t move. You look at him, because that’s not cool, the old man isn’t walking too well, but when you do, you see the kid’s eyes are full of tears. You almost wrap your arm around him, but you have a feeling that would stop you from seeing this all.

“Danny.” The old man sits next to Eridan. “Now, is there any reason I keep finding you down here?”

His voice is gentle, with an Irish lilt, and Eridan doesn’t reply. The old man sighs, also looking down at the water.

“Danny, I’m sorry that your mother acted like she did. Uprooting one like that isn’t what I’d have expected a daughter of mine to do.”

“I don’t care about that,” Eridan snaps, and the old man raises his eyebrows slightly.

“Well, Danny, I do. I care that she took you from your brother and your pa. Fair enough if she and your pa were having a bad time, but she shouldn’t have stopped you from seeing them.” The old man wraps an arm around Eridan. “If you don’t care, at least know that I do.”

Eridan’s breath hitches, and he shakes his head.

“But w-why’d she leave?” he asks, in a tiny broken voice. “W-why’d she leave me w-with you if I’m so important?”

Pain crosses the old man’s face and he shakes his head.

“Well, I don’t rightly know, Danny. Sarah...” He seems to be weighing something up. “I think she knew that we’d take care of you no matter what, and that we could. And that we love you almost as much as she does, because mothers love their children, Danny. Don’t you forget that. They love their little boys and girls more than anything in the world, even before they know they will.” He hugs him tight, and Eridan trembles, before breaking into big, noisy tears.

You want to hug him, too. You know the old man’s lying. Parents don’t always love their children more than anything – more than themselves, more than drink, more than a good time. Sometimes, they’re like Damara’s mom, who hugged her fiercely when she got home, and who loves her no matter what she does even if she’s mad about it. And then sometimes, they’re like your mother, who isn’t evil, isn’t really abusive, even, but is enough to make you refuse contact with her and take your siblings out of her reach as soon as you could. Sometimes they’re even like your dad.

But Eridan’s mother sounds more like your mom, because Eridan is speaking with a full-fledged American accent, and if you’re as smart as you think you are, it means she took him to Ireland and left him with what you’re assuming to be his grandfather. The way he’s talking about loving children makes you think he’s got some experience in that, but you also think he wants to reassure a scared little kid.

He’s been dumped. Away from the family he knows, and with someone who you’re guessing he barely knows at all.

“Cro w-wasn’t speakin’ to me,” he snuffles, eventually. “He w-wouldn’t look at me for goin’ w-with Ma.”

“Well, your brother...I’m sure he’ll understand in time.” The old man tries to smile. “He loves you too, Danny. He always has. I remember when you boys came over here for the first time, and you were just walking. He was looking out for you at every step, really he was! You were so nervous, and he held your hand all the time. And oh, he told me off once because I left the door open to my shed. You know what he said?”

Eridan looks up at him.

“You gotta be more careful of Eridan, Grandda. That’s what he said. Then he picked you up and carted you off back inside! And then the next day, I put a lock on my shed. He’s always looked out for you, and I’m sure you’re hurtin’, missing each other.” He lets go of Eridan. “And now I have to look out for you, Eridan, so I don’t get your brother telling me off again.” He winks, and offers his hand to Eridan. “Come on. Your Nana’s waiting. She’s been cooking for you, so we best not keep her too long.”

Eridan takes his hand, and you fall through the pier into the water, sinking down. You almost feel relaxed, but your mind is whirling with everything that you just saw. But more than that, you’re almost certain you’ve seen Eridan before, although you can’t think of where.

But fuck, that poor kid.

You see something glowing below you, and something moves through the water, moving towards you, and you wake up, sweating, breathing heavily. Eridan is asleep, still, peacefully, and you grab your laptop and open it up, writing down everything you can remember and then looking it over.

Cro. That’s what he called his brother, and come to think of it, that’s what he said earlier in the diner when you took him there so you could see Jane. You’re not sure what in a diner of all places could have triggered that, but there is something that you’re very aware of.

The Eridan you saw – the sulky, hurting teenager – is very different from the Eridan now. You want to know what has happened in the meantime to turn that into this, but you’re not even sure this is a mystery you want to unravel. You’re definitely getting the heebie jeebies about it, too, because as much as you’re a stalwart believer in science, reason, and robotics, those three things do have their own little culture of superstitions and the unexplained. Things where certain things will work, inexplicably. Computers that only work if they have the good luck charm near them. The moment where a robot comes to life and learns habits you sure as hell didn’t program in.

And this is a situation that’s full of the unexplained. This kid appeared in your bathtub, out of nowhere, and not only that, but he apparently got from Ireland to here. Via bathtub. And that weird lake gives you chills every time you think about it.

You want to remind yourself that Eridan is just a kid, really. A kid around the same age as your little brother, who had a really shitty thing happen to him. But Eridan is strange, and the weirdness doesn’t exactly stop with him. You save the document, and run a hand through your hair, before there’s a knock on your door.

“Yo, big bro...” It creaks open, and Roxy slips inside, and goes to sit on the bed, before shrieking very slightly and jumping up. Eridan somehow sleeps through it, but Roxy turns to you.

“Dirk, what the fuck--”

“I just woke up.” You look at her hazily, and turn the little lamp on that’s sat on the dresser. “Fuck, Roxy, why didn’t you see him?”

“I just woke up! Who is that, Dirk? Why is there a kid in the bed?”

You sigh. “Long story short, he’s crashing with us for a bit. His name’s Eridan.”

“Dirk, what the heck?” She seems to be calming down somewhat, especially when she sees your little sleep-camp at the end of the bed. “Have you been sleeping there?”

“Yeah. I’d get as good sleep anywhere else, Roxy. How’d you know I was in here?”

“Computer lights were in here, and you weren’t anywhere else. I had to come find you. I had the weirdest dream.” She sits down in front of you. “I was like, sinking down in a lake, and this huge white tentacle wrapped around me. Except, I think it was like...looking after me?” She sighs. “It sort of pulled me in, and patted me, and I felt like it was all going to be alright. And then the water started glowing. Except, I wasn’t really me, if you get what I mean. I didn’t feel like I was me.”

You slowly turn to look at Eridan.

“And then I woke up,” Roxy continues blithely, “and it was so weird, and I felt a bit terrified, to be honest. Reminded me of all those books Rose used to read, those horror ones she used to leave in the bathroom. And it’s not like I can wake Rose or Davey up about it, but I thought you might be awake somewhere, so I came to find you.”

“Roxy, I think.” You stop yourself. “I think we need to talk. Except, you gotta believe me and not think I’m crazy.”

* * *

Once you finish, you wait for Roxy to say something, say anything, but she’s looking at Eridan instead. Not at you.

“Well.” She bites her lip. “I wanna say I don’t believe you. But honestly, Dirk, you’ve never lied to me about jack. And I do think you’re nuts, but not because of this. Did his mom seriously just...abandon him, though?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what I’ve dreamed of. But the lake thing, it keeps popping up. Water. It’s important somehow.”

“That thing I saw is important too, then.” Roxy looks at you. “God, I must be sleep deprived if I’m accepting this, but shit. You know, we have someone at the bar, who like, passed a couple of years ago. I thought you’d think I was crazy if I told you this. But he still comes in for his drinks every Friday, and sometimes I talk to him. He’s like any other customer, but once he has that drink, he’s gone.”

You don’t say anything, and she ruffles a hand through her hair.

“I just mean...sometimes things aren’t so cut and dry. Sometimes you don’t have to believe in shit to have it happen. That’s like, I don’t know, not believing in climate change, I guess? It’s still happening whether you believe it or not. And maybe this is happening for a reason. But Jesus, that poor kid.” She shakes his head. “Maybe he’ll remember soon. You said he was improving.”

“Slowly. I still don’t know why here.”

“Why anywhere?” She looks at Eridan. “He’s just a kid, really.”

“Doesn’t stop bad shit from happening to you,” you say, softly. Roxy looks a bit conflicted.

“Mom sent me an email, speaking of which,” she says, quietly. “Wanted to let us know she’s all okay. I don’t think she expects a reply.”

“The woman is always okay. Well. Okayish.” You put your laptop down. “It’s us that isn’t. She’s always been okay.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if she had been okay?” Roxy looks at you. “Like, really okay?”

“Better,” you say, immediately. “It would have been better for all of us. I...” You sigh. “I don’t think we should dwell on it, though. It’ll just make what we have seem worse.”

“What we have is pretty damn good,” Roxy agrees. “Even if we’re living through a Lovecraft novel right now.”

“Well, what’s life without spice?” You pick the laptop up again, quickly noting down what Roxy said about her own dream. “Especially weird, dream-sharing spice.”

“Peaceful?” Roxy suggests, almost without a grin, before she laughs. “I’m kidding. Life’s never peaceful, Dirky. You just have to live it in the best way possible.”

You look over at Eridan, who’s still sleeping. Life certainly isn’t peaceful right now, but it’s the life you’ve got, and you’re willing to keep giving him a place to be. Roxy catches you looking.

“Must remind you of things,” she says, softly.

“Things?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Davey,” she says. “When he first came here. When you got him from Dad.”

You guess that it kinda does. Not this current thing, but that dream that you had does stir up an awful lot of your own memories. Memories of Dave trying to keep himself closed off from everyone, memories of him crying because he didn’t understand why everything had happened how it had, memories of feeling like the worst brother in the world.

You wonder how Eridan’s brother feels right now. You move over, and Roxy immediately comes to sit next to you.

“You know, when he first got here, I didn’t know what to do.” She looks down at the floor. “How to treat him, what to say to him. I had to treat him like a stranger even though he’s the only little brother I have. And I was so relieved that I could turn to you, that I could rely on you to swoop in and do everything he needed. But I don’t really think that was fair on any of us.” She smiles. “And now it’s like he’s always been here, and I love him, but sometimes I think I relied on you way too much.”

You open your mouth, and she holds up her hands.

“I know, I know. You can’t change the past. But sometimes I really wish that I’d just tried a little harder and not taken the easy way out, because it was better for Rose and Davey to rely on you than it was for me. I could have helped you more, and I’m sorry. So, I’ve decided. I’m gonna help you with Sleeping Beauty.”

“What? Roxy. Rox. No way.”

“Dirk, you need rest too,” she says, sternly. “I got this. I know tons of places the kid’ll love, and keeping him cooped up like this is doing no good. I’ve got tomorrow off anyway, and besides, I’ll just do it without your permission if you don’t give it.”

You know her well enough that you know she means it, and groan.

“Fine.”

“Great.” She leans against you. “Love you, big bro.”

“Love you too, Rox.”

Chapter Text

You wake up to Jack standing on your kidneys and doing that weird, you-wanna-go meow he does.

"Alright, jeez, I'm up already." You turn and he meows at you again.

Well, it's not really a meow so much as it is the bastard child of a meow and a low growl, but he jumps off when you move again, and stalks over to the door. It's clear that what he's wanting is food, and that he's wanting it now. You groan and throw the comfy, cozy blanket off of you.

You ended up bingeing on Netflix yesterday, rather than doing anything about your problem. Your stupid, sunglasses-wearing, smirking problem. In fact, you're pretty sure that you can keep watching Jane the Virgin and never have to face your problem, so long as you don't actually look at Dave for the rest of your life.

Jack meows again, and you head into the kitchen to feed him. Why is it, you want to ask the universe, that the guy who makes you actually want to be open about your sexuality, is not only a living shitpost but also your best friend? You would say one of your best friends, but John's being...well, like that , and Gamzee and you kind of stopped hanging out a year or so ago. You still talk, but you feel less close to him than you do to Dave.

It'd still be a whole thing with Gamzee if you and Dave did end up starting to date, though. Gamzee and Dave do not get along. But at the same time, that's another excuse, because if Gamzee cares less about you these days, you shouldn't give two shits about him. Even though you wish him all the best, he did kind of pull a massive 'fuck you Karkat' by fucking off like that, and you had to field those visits from his brother wanting to know where he is, while you actually didn't know.

God, your friend group is so fucked.

You put down some wet food for Jack, and go to curl up on the sofa, trying not to think on the whole thing.

Your friendship with Dave is so fucking important to you, and you've already lost John. John, Dave, and you were a trio that you never wanted to mess up, that for all your bitching and griping you actually loved like nothing else in this world. It was special, and you were the one that messed the whole thing up.

Well, maybe not just you, but you feel like you kickstarted the whole fucking thing. God.

But you still, somehow, have survived the end of that with Dave's friendship still intact. Somehow, you still have Strider's friendship, and you feel like it's stupid of you to turn around and say that you want more. That it's reckless, and greedy, and way too much. Despite what you said yesterday, and despite how you feel, you want to believe that it would be so much easier just to hide under the covers, push your feelings away, and let it go.

And yet, there is that part of you. The part that's begging with you, telling you not to do this, the part that wants a chance to do this properly. The part that knows that hiding never works, that even when you do, it all comes crashing down around you despite your best efforts. So, why don't you ever change your approach? If it'll fuck up anyway, can't you just do the thing anyway?

You groan and sink into the sofa cushions just as your dad wanders through.

"Well, you look like your Saturday is going great, son." He peers through into the kitchen. "Do we have coffee?"

"Yeah. We're running low, though." You sigh. "Dad, you know dating?"

"No, Karkat. You and Kankri were immaculate conceptions." He sighs. "Yes, I'm aware of the concept."

Fuck, now you just want to abandon the conversation and go back to bingeing Jane the Virgin. How will you know if Jane will stay with Michael like she should, otherwise? Still, you take another deep breath.

"Why is it so fucking complicated all of the time? Why can't it be easy?" You try not to make eye contact. "And why does everyone have an opinion on it?"

"Well, we're social creatures by nature. We live almost on top of each other, as it is. Helping with the church has taught me that no matter what, people will always have their own opinion of you. No matter how much you try to please them or explain yourself, there's always someone who thinks they know better." He sits down next to you, and you move your feet so he can. "Karkat, everyone is going to have their opinion, whether they say it or not. And sometimes, when they do say it, it can hurt you. You just have to be prepared for it."

"But why can't they just...Not?" You look down. "I mean, not, you know, not share their opinion, but why does everyone have to jump in with what they think instead of leaving it alone?"

"Because they think they should." Your dad frowns. "Is this about something in particular? I don't want to press you, but I'm a little in the dark."

You look down and huff. "John and I fell out."

"Ah. I see. Well, it's tricky, in that case." Your dad sighs. "When I was younger, I remember that one of my friends and I fell out over a difference of opinion. And to me, what was more upsetting was that my friend seemed to think winning the fight was more important than our friendship. He kept pushing his side of the argument, and it seemed like he didn't want to listen to me. From his point of view, though, he thought I wasn't listening to him, and he thought that acting like he was doing was justified. I stopped speaking to him for about three years, until he landed in the hospital after an accident."

"Three years?" You look up at your dad. "What were you arguing about?"

"Well, back in those days, things weren't as open as they are now. He found it easier to blindly believe that certain groups of people were bad just because he was told that it was so, but I've always thought forgiveness is one of the most important human qualities." He sighs. "But he wasn't a forgiving man. However, when he needed me, I forgave him. It took me a while, but when he rang me from the hospital, I drove to see him. I drove him home when he was released, too. We weren't ever quite friends again, but I think that has a lot to do with his outlook on life."

You know your dad is compassionate, but you're stunned for a moment as you look at him. You're starting to suspect he might actually be some sort of reborn saint.

"Well, what did you argue with John about?" your father asks.

You freeze up. You feel like you're not going to say it, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I have a crush on Dave."

Your father blinks, surprised, and you can see him trying to carefully word it properly. Finally, he pats you on the shoulder, and clears his throat.

"I'll be honest, I didn't think that was coming."

"I'm sorry. I swear if I knew Kankri was going to come out, I would have told you sooner so you had some practice. Or made it easier. Or something. Or just, you know, said something." You feel you have to explain, because he looks like he's still finding what to say. "It's not that I don't trust you, Dad. I just feel so scared, all the time, and I only told John. And Kankri, yesterday."

"How...Well, when did you know?"

"I guess when everyone started talking about dating?" You screw your nose up. "Like, ages back. Before I was friends with John and Dave. And, you know, people were saying they liked so-and-so, but I-- you know, I had a couple of crushes. Not just girls." You cross your arms, sort of defensively. "Sorry."

"Years?" your father says, weakly.

"And then I had a crush on Terezi, so then I kind of ignored it. Because I thought it didn't matter. But after that fucked itself over, I ended up crushing on John for a little bit. And I kind of hated him for it." It's like you can't stop talking. "That cleared up really easily, though. And like a year later I started having, you know, feelings for Dave fucking Strider."

"Years," your dad repeats. "Karkat. I had to give you the sex talk once. You could have told me I needed to keep talking."

"No way." You hold your hand up. "Dad, I love you, but you're terrible at giving sex talks. Please don't make me go through that again."

"It traumatised me both times." He shakes his head. "I just...I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't tell me."

"I'm sorry I didn't," you say, honestly. "And I'm sorry we both came out at once."

"Well, in fairness, Kankri tends to be quite private anyway," your father says, before frowning. "But how did this make you and John fall out? Surely he has nothing against...what would you label it as?"

"Bisexuality. No, he just thinks I'm going to ruin our friendship and push him away, and he's been acting like a dick ever since." You look down. "Like when he left movie night. And how he won't speak to me or meet up unless Dave is there, and even then it's so awkward, because I feel like he's judging me. Every time I look at Dave, I think he's going to be upset."

"Ruin?" Your father looks confused, and shakes his head. "That doesn't seem like a particular nice thing to say when someone comes out."

"It wasn't." You feel as though for the first time, you can feel the slightest bit of anger pushing through the wall of blame. "It was a really shitty thing to do."

It keeps pushing, and your fists clenched. Your dad's right. You came out to John, and you trusted him, and all that asshole could do was talk about how you were ruining things. You really did trust him, but you sure as shit don't now. Your dad sees your expression and puts a calm hand on your shoulder.

"Have you talked about it since?" he asks.

"No, we haven't." You grit your teeth. "And I don't want to talk with him, either. John Egbert can officially go fuck himself."

The little bit of anger pushes through the wall, and although you still feel that guilt, that blame, that fear, it's no longer as strong as your anger is becoming. You take a deep breath, and hug your dad.

"Thanks for listening, Dad."

He hugs you back, warm and comforting.

"Anytime."

When you go back to your room, you sit down on your bed, trying to process the feelings swirling through your mind. You know well enough that any message you send will just open up an argument. You know also that a screaming argument in person wouldn't help anything, and you also know that whatever John knows these days, Vriska probably knows as well. It's not worth the hassle to fall out with him.

You're so angry though. So very, very angry. And you think it's time that you let people know why, if they ever want to know. You're done being so fucking worried about people's opinions, and you're damned if you'll let that same fear rule you.

Now you just have to figure out how to confess to one Dave Strider, and to hell with the consequences.

Chapter Text

Morning rolls around, and brings your sister back to the spare room, flinging the door open.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" she says, cheerfully. "Hey, little dude! I'm gonna be looking after you today!"

You expect him to cling to you, but instead, Eridan is staring at Roxy with wide, sparkly eyes. You don't think he's been this impressed since you showed him Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. To be fair, Roxy, with her various bits of pink clothing and wide smile, can be quite dazzling. You're well aware that after meeting you and your other siblings, she must be the cheerful pea in a stoic pod. Still, you place a hand on his shoulder and clear your throat.

"Alright, some ground rules. No weird singing for you. Roxy, you keep a close eye on him."

"We're going to the beach," Roxy says, rolling her eyes at you. "Listen, Dirky, you can relax. He's not going to try anything with me, are you, Eri?" She pinches his cheeks. "Gosh, he's cute though."

She tweaks his little purple streak and he looks up at her with that same awestruck expression.

"I'm Roxy, Eri. I'm this grump's baby sister. I bet he's been all serious while you've been hanging out, right?" She pats his arm. "C'mon, it's time for breakfast. We can steal Dave's Lucky Charms."

And woosh, she's gone, dragging Eridan with her to the kitchen. You'd guess that he doesn't mind though - in fact, he seems almost happy to be tugged away. You hope that says more about Roxy than it does about you.

You didn't really have anything planned for today except babysitting, so you're kind of at a loss as to what you should do. Usually on a day like today, when the weather is nice, you'd probably have gone drone-testing with Horuss, but you're not sure after yesterday that it's so appropriate. He's probably going to be still ranting about Damara (he can hold a grudge like no one's business) and you don't think knowing what you know that you could sit there and listen to him.

It's been a while since you just went on a walk, though. You actually can't remember when the last time you just walked out of the house and into the woods was. You...think the last time was about a week before the thing with English. You go into your room, grabbing your keys and your phone just in case Roxy needs you, and head down the stairs and out of the door.

Man, it's been a while.

How long have you spent just avoiding doing anything that didn't involve hanging around Jane or fixing up your robotics and coding? You've isolated yourself again, although to be honest, you don't have that many people to isolate yourself from. There's Jane, Roxy, Rose, Dave, Horuss, Damara...and Jake. That's kind of your social circle, and it obviously got smaller. You sometimes wish you talked to more people, but it's a little difficult. People have an unfortunate habit of being humans, and there's so many human habits that you can't stand. Plus, they always think that you're someone else.

Unfortunately, your habit of holding yourself back is seen as cool aloofness, and people tend to think that if they just throw enough friendship your way, you'll eventually open up and talk to them about your feelings and things like that. You've never been great at handling that kind of thing, because it was something you had to learn. You weren't taught how to handle a crush, or how to say you were proud of someone, or how to be open about how you felt. You have a bad habit yourself of assuming people will just know the way you're feeling. It's not something that makes for a friendship that goes beyond surface level.

You head towards the woods by the house, following the little trail you used to take when you were showing Dave the woods. Sometimes, he brought John, and once or twice, Karkat came too. That didn't always go so well, given that Karkat isn't the most patient kid, but you reckon he was trying. It was nice to see. Eventually, you stepped back, and let them do whatever thirteen year old boys do in the woods.

You still go for walks yourself, though. With robotics, that's your way of not having to think about anything. Like anime, it's a way to immerse yourself in something and not have to think about everything that's going on. Out here, there's nothing to distract you from your own thoughts, and you have to confront them.

So.

Eridan.

You've been treating that whole mess as it comes, sorting through it bit by bit and gathering data, but you're pretty weirded out by it. Something clearly sent him to you, the person least qualified to deal with anything of the sort, and now your dreams are giving you information about him. You're not sure what you're meant to do, but if watching animated shows about destiny and fate have taught you anything, they've taught you that you need to be doing something.

You're torn between treating him like you treated Dave, and treating him like a Tasmanian devil that wandered into your house by accident. But you've got to figure out how to treat him, because there's no denying that he's here now.

Maybe you should just treat him like you did Dave. Holding him at arm's length is only going to keep him there, and what good will that do anyone? It certainly won't benefit you if you're worrying over it all the time, and it won't benefit any of your siblings if they feel they have to treat him a certain way because you're doing so. You know that in this situation, they'll follow your lead, because while they can make up their own minds, they love you, and don't like arguing with you. It means you always have to consider the way you tread.

Which, in a roundabout way, brings you to the matter of Jake. You push your way past some bushes, and there it is. The rock. The one halfway up the trail with a view of Meteor Bay in the distance.

Roxy, as far as you know, has stopped talking to Jake, which wasn't something you wanted to happen. You didn't want her to cut off her friendship, but you also didn't want to tell her to make nice with him.

You sit down on the rock and look out over your town. From here, you can look at the houses, not thinking about the people who live in them. From here, they don't look like a soul lives in them, but just like...houses.

You used to bring Jake up here.

You try not to think about all the expectations you placed on him. Maybe it wasn't fair to think the world of him when he was just one guy, and maybe it wasn't fair not to talk it out. You know that if someone hit on you and then threw away the friendship because you didn't feel the same way, you'd be pissed as hell, but it's been about three months and you blocked him on everything. You're also not the best at apologising.

You also don't want to. It still hurts too much.

"Nice day, huh?" a scratchy voice you vaguely recognise says from behind you, and a red cloaked figure sits down beside you.

Oh.

You guess that John and Karkat weren't the only people that Dave brought up here, seeing as you thought you guys were the only ones who knew how to get here. You try not to think about what Terezi Pyrope being here means with regards to her and Dave, but you nod your head, before remembering.

"Yeah. Nice day."

"What are you doing in my swamp, Dirk?" she asks, pulling her hood down. "Fort Scourge doesn't allow just anyone."

"Are you even allowed out here on your own?" you ask, drily. Terezi cackles.

"Your senses are rusty if you think I'm alone." She whistles, and a big cream Labrador whuffles its way out of the bushes, wearing a red jacket that looks to have a smaller version of her hood. "Pyralspite, sit."

The dog comes to sit in front of her, waiting obediently and watching her. You wait a little while, but she doesn't say anything, just tilts her head to one side like she's listening for something. A moment or two passes before you speak.

"So, my rock is now Fort Scourge?" you ask. "I've not been gone that long."

"No, your rock is still your rock, kind of." She sighs. "But you've been gone long enough."

"And...how long has Fort Scourge been around?"

"Well, I changed locations a bit. I had to rebuild after Mindfang decided to go and hang out with Egblegh." She sticks her tongue out. "I had to get Aradia to help me, but it's been managed. So, what's new with you?"

You always did like Terezi. She was quite blunt, and although you think this dog is not the same as the other dog she had, which you think might have had an equally long and LARP-esque name, you sigh.

"I seem to be turning to teenagers for advice more and more these days. And I came here to be alone."

"Ooh, angsty." She reaches out in the direction of the dog, which moves so it can be patted. "I came here to be alone too, so if you want to go ahead and fight the blind teenager, be my guest." She grins that little evil grin she has.

"No, actually. I think I can stand to share my space with you."

She grins, rolling her eyes. She has a weird trick of arching her eyebrows up as she does so, and tilting her head back too. You see it a lot when she hangs out with your brother.

"So..." Terezi stretches the word out. "What's up with you? I heard someone stomping around and thought you might be Dave. Maybe even Egghead."

"I told you, I came here to think." You don't think you can tell Terezi about Eridan, so instead you decide to open the other can of worms. "A thing happened."

"Wanna talk about this thing?" she offers. "Then you have to listen to mine, though."

"Sure. It's a fair trade." You keep petting Pyralspite.

"Deal." She holds her hand out, and you grasp it and shake it. She snickers.

"God, you still wear those gloves?"

"Yes, yes I do." You sigh, letting go of her hand. "So. I tried to kiss Jake three months ago."

"Jake-Jake? Harley's cousin Jake? Jake, who probably only has a thing for that one girl from the Avatar movie?" She winces. "Yeesh."

"Jake," you confirm. "And he pushed me over in front of a crowd. We haven't really spoken since, and now I realise why there are so many big budget movies about why falling for your best friend is such an angsty thing. Especially if you don't really have that many other friends."

"Don't you have other friends?"

"Horuss, Damara, and Jane," you tell her. She winces again.

"Really?"

"And Jane's hard to talk to because she's also friends with Jake." You look down at the ground. "And usually I'd come up here to think, but me and Jake used to come up here all the time and spar."

"Well, if that's how you flirt, Strider, you've got a long way to go before you get a boyfriend." She keeps patting her dog. "Sparring? Really?"

"I guess it was safe." You sigh. "I wanted to flirt without. You know. Actually flirting."

"It never works, dumbass." She sighs too. "All that happens is you send signals without being clear, and then by the time you figure out you should be actually flirting, you don't know how to start. I mean, look at me and Dave. Or me and Karkat. Neither of whom, let me tell you, know how to flirt. They both were doing it their way, and then when I actually flirted with them..." She sighed. "Well, Dave handled it slightly better than Karkat."

"Yeah, I need to know all about that." You roll your eyes. "But I get what you mean. It's just...harder, for me. I don't have many friends and I didn't want to lose Jake, but then he said yes to a date and then...I pushed him away anyway."

"Well, he's not the only guy in the world, Dirk." Terezi continues petting her dog. "You can't feel like the world's going to end because one guy doesn't like you back."

"I should...probably apologise." Your shoulders slump.

"Yeah, you should. I mean, he should, too. But don't act like him not liking you back means you can't be friends." She claps her hands. "Okay, my turn!"

You sit up. "Yeah. Sure. Hit me with that angst, oh friend-of-my-brother."

"Well, I too fell out with someone!" she says, cheerily. "And I moved our fort to a place she doesn't know about."

Huh. You wait, and Terezi fills in the silence happily.

"See, me and Vriska...we've been best friends forever, but recently she's been being so weird. She's acting like if she does something nice to someone, they can't be upset about the other things she did, and she got all mad with Aradia because she was saying she'd get her a super nice gift so they can be friends again, even though it's been years. Aradia doesn't want to be friends again, and I understand that. These days, she doesn't really talk to me, either. Probably because I stayed friends with Vriska."

You untangle it a bit in your head.

"So...Vriska tried to get Aradia to be friends with her again?"

"Yeah, exactly. But Aradia doesn't want to, and you can't make someone be friends if they don't want to. And then Vriska went weird about Aradia not wanting her to be friends, so she was trying to figure out the best present for her. So, I told her she can't do that, and then she was saying that she could, because it would show she still wanted to be friends, and she said that it worked on me." Terezi shakes her head. "She'd never figured out that I stuck around because we're friends forever. She just thought she bought me back with that...That stupid CD. Rich kids for you, I guess. And then she said it worked with Eridan, too. Like she was teaching me something."

Your brain stops for a bit, and quietly, you ask, "Eridan?"

"Yeah. Oh, you won't know him, I guess. It was before Dave and me were friends. Vriska used to be friends with this other rich kid we knew, and they were just the worst together. But then she'd get bored with him, and they'd argue, and she'd offer him something to come back and be friends with her. I mean, he always said yes, but any idiot could see that Eridan just didn't like being abandoned." She actually looks upset. "And then I realised Vriska thought she'd bought me back. That she could do that. And she's so smart! How can she be so dumb?"

"Maybe she doesn't know any better," you say, trying not to sound too dazed. Terezi sighs.

"Well, now she will. I can do just fine without her, even if she's hanging around John like a bad smell these days. Never realised that someone who thinks Con Air is a good movie would be a good replacement for me, though."

You're still struggling with what to say, when Pyralspite trots off back behind the bushes. Terezi follows this time.

"Arrivederci, Strider," she says, marching away as though she hasn't just poured her heart out.

You want to think on that situation. Maybe tell her it'll be okay. But you're still stuck on the fact that Terezi - your brother's friend/ex - knows Eridan. That Eridan used to live here, according to her, and that even weirder, he used to be friends with Vriska.

You groan to yourself, and start walking home. Looks like you just can't get away from this after all.

Chapter Text

Dirk comes in and immediately retreats to his Batcave, just as you’re searching for your Lucky Charms. Someone’s definitely been stealing them, and also picking out the rainbows, which points to it being one of your sisters this time around. Probably Rose as revenge for the Cookie Crisp.

Karkat hasn’t messaged you this morning, which for him is weird because he tends to send you some sort of message, but you’re not going to jump off the handle about that. Instead, you send Aradia a short text, and check the messages that Terezi sent you at 3am last night when she was awake.

(You’ve stopped asking her why she’s up.)

The cats are milling about, pretending that they haven’t been fed, but a big pink sign in the kitchen tells you otherwise. You double check it, and it’s signed and dated (in pink gel pen, so it’s absolutely genuine), so you pat them all on the head.

“Sorry, my little bros. Roxy says she’s fed you.” You try to walk past, but they start weaving around your legs. Goddamnit.

turntechGodhead: tz help the cats trapped me in the kitchen again

gallowsCalibrator: TH1S S33MS L1K3 4 YOU PROBL3M

turntechGodhead: im serious they wont let me move out of the kitchen

turntechGodhead: their demands are simple

turntechGodhead: more food

gallowsCalibrator: TH4T S33MS F41R TO M3

turntechGodhead: nah man the vet said weve got to watch how much were feeding them because of how many cats we have

turntechGodhead: besides im too cool for peer pressure

gallowsCalibrator: TH3N P3R1SH

turntechGodhead: goddamnit terezi

 The cats mew pathetically at you and you try to harden your heart. It’s not your fault that you didn’t grow up with cats, and therefore are possibly the biggest sucker in the household. It’s also not your fault that every last one of these adorable bastards are fully aware of this. You may or may not be the reason that the sign became a thing.

You eventually move past the cats, who follow you, making little piteous noises. You’re the heartless asshole. It’s you.

With the cats following you, you make your way up to your room and sit down in your computer chair. Only one of the cats is still following you, but it jumps on your bed and starts snuggling into your pillow, so you ignore it, opening up your PC to start checking on everything. The news is pretty empty, which isn’t surprising, but you’re more caught up in trying not to message John. Recently, you’ve been messaging him and Karkat in your group chat every day, but you had a look yesterday when you got home and really, he’s not exactly been responsive. He’s not been ignoring you, but it’s not been like it usually is for some time, like you thought.

So this morning, you don’t try to start a conversation. Instead, you boot up Youtube and start watching Good Mythical Morning as you eat your cereal. This is your morning television, as you try to ignore the fact that one of your best friends has stopped being one of your best friends. It’s not so easy, though, because the thing you fucking forgot is that Rhett and Link are best friends. It’s hard to forget the problem when you see them interacting. Still, eventually you get caught up in the videos, and have it playing in the background as you respond to Terezi again.

turntechGodhead: i escaped the horde

turntechGodhead: why did you abandon me terezi

gallowsCalibrator: 1 COULDN’T H4V3 S4V3D YOU

turntechGodhead: a cowards excuse

gallowsCalibrator: 1’M 4LSO FUCK1NG BUSY

gallowsCalibrator: 1 H4D TO MOV3 TH3 H1D3OUT 4ND 1’M ST1LL NOT QU1T3 F1N1SH3D S3CUR1NG 3V3RYTH1NG

turntechGodhead: oh

turntechGodhead: shit my bad

gallowsCalibrator: TH3 R41NPROOF1NG N33D3D R3PL4C1NG 4CCORD1NG TO L4TUL4 WH1CH 3XPL41NS SOM3 SH1T

gallowsCalibrator: VR1SK4 WOULD H4V3 B33N TOO L4ZY TO NOT1C3 4ND MY 3Y3S 4R3 FUCK3D

turntechGodhead: how are you doing it by yourself though

turntechGodhead: remember you cant do everything by yourself even though youre kickass

gallowsCalibrator: OH

gallowsCalibrator: W3LL 1 C4NT T4K3 4 GOOD PHOTO OF 1T SO 1 W4S GO1NG TO SP3ND TH3 D4Y H3R3 JUST FOR M3NT4L H34LTH PURPOS3S

gallowsCalibrator: 4ND TH3N M3 4ND TUL4 4R3 GO1NG TO F1X 1T TOG3TH3R

turntechGodhead: sorry if i came off as an asshole before

gallowsCalibrator: N4H

gallowsCalibrator: 1 DO K1ND4 N33D TO B3 C4R3FUL

gallowsCalibrator: 1 C4N DO STUFF BUT

turntechGodhead: its okay forget i mentioned it

turntechGodhead: and if you need some help fixing up your fort im here

gallowsCalibrator: TH4T M34NS 4 LOT TO M3 D4V3

gallowsCalibrator: 1T JUST K1ND4 SUCKS W1TH VR1SK4 4T TH3 MOM3NT

You can relate. You know Terezi and Vriska started falling out after Aradia’s accident, but things have just spiralled, and Terezi wasn’t exactly open about a lot of it. You can’t blame her for that, though.

turntechGodhead: yeah i get it

gallowsCalibrator: 4 LOT OF TH3 STUFF 1 L1K3 H4S M3MOR13S OF H3R WR4PP3D UP 1N 1T

gallowsCalibrator: W3’V3 4LW4YS DON3 3V3RYTH1NG TOG3TH3R BUT HON3STLY 1T 4LL F33LS SO DULL NOW

gallowsCalibrator: L1K3 3V3RYTH1NG 1 L1K3 DO3SN’T M4TT3R W1THOUT HER

turntechGodhead: aw geez

turntechGodhead: listen terezi

turntechGodhead: you can still like what you like but im kinda thinking over similar things and i guess something that comes up is do you actually like that stuff anymore or did you just keep liking it because you could like it together?

turntechGodhead: im not saying that youre not allowed to like all that stuff but you might need time to remember why you like it outside of sharing it as a hobby with vriska

gallowsCalibrator: Y34H

gallowsCalibrator: 1 KNOW

gallowsCalibrator: 1 JUST DON’T WANT TO CH4NG3 3NT1R3LY JUST B3C4US3 1 LOS3 MY B3ST FR13ND

turntechGodhead: sometimes you have to let yourself change

turntechGodhead: change is okay sometimes and sometimes you cant control whether you change or not and fighting it is just gonna make you miserable

turntechGodhead: i know i sound like rose right now but i swear im trying to help

gallowsCalibrator: NO 1 G3T 1T

gallowsCalibrator: 1T’S JUST TH3R3’S SO MUCH 1’M GONN4 M1SS

gallowsCalibrator: TH4T’S K1ND OF WHY 1’M OUT H3R3 TOD4Y

turntechGodhead: man, im sorry

turntechGodhead: that sucks and it must suck to go through

gallowsCalibrator: NO SH1T

gallowsCalibrator: 1 M34N 1 SHOULD H4V3 KNOWN TH4T 1T WOULD 3ND UP L1K3 TH1S 4FT3R TH3 W4Y TH1NGS W3NT W1TH H3R 4ND K4N4Y4

turntechGodhead: wanting someone to treat you nicely isnt a bad thing

gallowsCalibrator: W3’R3 K1ND4 P4ST TH4T NOW THOUGH

turntechGodhead: true

gallowsCalibrator: 1’LL C4TCH YOU L4T3R COOLK1D

With that, she’s gone, leaving you as reflective as she must be. Terezi is a trooper, you know that much – she’s tried not to let anything stop her. But you know this thing with Vriska has shaken her up, and even if she acts like it doesn’t bother her in public, when the two of you talk, she’s always honest about how much it actually does bother her. Just because she’s not upset about it so openly doesn’t mean she’s not upset.

And you really can relate to what she said about hobbies. You used to be really into watching horrible movies with John, but over the years, you’ve come to realise that the ‘with John’ part is the bit you actually like – throwing popcorn at him and cracking dumb jokes. You don’t actually have as strong an opinion on Nic Cage as you seem. It’s just fun to wind John up. There’s films you’d never have seen if John weren’t so hyped for their release.

Sometimes it’s less about what you’re doing, and more about who you’re with. And Terezi knows that better than anyone. Sometimes, you get the feeling that Terezi is the smartest person you know, even when she tries not to face up to something. You wonder if she knew all along what Vriska was like, but really, you don’t even have to wonder. Terezi must have liked her anyway.

And she did like her. You’ve never seen Terezi like someone so much, put up with so much. Not even for you. Not that she didn’t tell Vriska how it was, but she never stopped being her friend until everything happened. It’s taken her a long time to get to this point.

You wonder how long it’s taken you to get to your own point. Terezi, as usual, is far ahead of you. How long has this been coming? How long has your friendship with John been headed in this direction?

You groan. This isn’t helping anything, and your Discord beeps at you again. You open it, expecting Terezi.

But it’s not.

carcinoGeneticist: CAN SOMEBODY LET ME IN?

carcinoGeneticist: I’M IN YOUR DRIVEWAY.

Chapter Text

Dave opens the door, and gestures for you to come in.

"What brings you to my house on this fine day, Kitkat?" he asks. You almost want to tell him, right then and there. To tell him everything, like this is some shittily directed romcom, and you're the shitty director deciding that now is the moment. That now is the moment, the big reveal.

Instead, you walk past him and kick off your shoes.

"We're long overdue a fucking discussion." You look him right in the eyes. "You wanted to know what the hell was going on, right? I'm here to tell you."

Even if he hates you.

Even if it bombs.

He settles both of you in the living room with a bowl of Doritos, and you clear your throat.

"John and me had an argument."

"Well, that much I could guess." Dave offers you the bowl, but you wave it away.

"It wasn't an argument when it started. I...Dave, I've been keeping this under wraps ever since I figured it out, okay? But I wanted to tell John. I wanted to tell John first. Which as it turns out was the stupidest idea I've ever had." You look down at the floor. "But I'm bi."

He sits up, just slightly.

"You...told him that?"

"Yeah. I...Listen, I don't expect anything from you, alright? I'm not a douchebag." You try not to look at him. "But he figured some stuff out, and he got really angry at me. He said I was going to ruin everything."

Dave opens his mouth, and you hold a hand up.

"I like you."

He freezes.

"Dave, I like you, and he knew that. He started freaking out about it, acting like it was going to mean we were going to push him away. Like the three of us wouldn't be friends just because I have a crush on you, and I haven't told you because I didn't want to and he didn't want me to. About him being upset, I mean. But say what you will about John, he can't hide his feelings for shit and the minute I told him, I lost him." You try to fight back the stinging feeling in your eyes. "And it fucking terrified me."

Dave's still speechless. Funny, given that years ago, you would have paid good money for the ability to do that. Now, you just want him to talk, so you keep talking.

"He seemed scared, too. Angry. Like I'd done something terrible to him, and I just...I know I haven't, now. I talked with Kankri, and my dad. I came out to them too. But it's not been fair keeping it secret from you when John's been acting like such an ass--"

He's holding your hand.

It's quick, out of nowhere, and unexpected enough to make you turn bright red. He drops it like a hot potato.

"You're not kidding," he says, quietly. You stand up.

"Of course I'm not kidding? What, did you think I was joking?"

"Maybe! Why would you like me?" Yours isn't the only red face in the room as he looks up at you. You throw your hands in the air.

"Well, it's certainly not because I think this is going to have any kind of fucking success rate! I mean, it's you! You talk, and you don't ever stop talking, but you're funny, Strider, and you actually care no matter how much you pretend you're above everything because irony or some shit, and you're really clever about it, and you really think about things, and it's not like I planned this! And you do things without realising it, like when you finish laughing. You run your hand through your hair, did you know? And you don't hold back. I like you. For all those reasons and so many more, and it was driving me nuts. Is driving me nuts." You try not to look directly at him.

"You really like me," he says, stunned. "You actually, really, like me."

"Yeah." You look down at your own feet. "But that's not really the issue here, is it?"

"I think maybe it kind of should be." He stands up, too, and takes his shades off, hanging them off his shirt. "Kitkat, I think maybe we should talk about that first."

"I don't want to. Not yet." It sounds childish even to you, and you swear he almost grins.

"Karkat."

"Dave." You mirror his tone, before turning around. "Listen. I just want to sort things out between you and John. I didn't want to ruin your friendship."

"John was the one who did that all on his own." He steps closer to you. "I promise you. I know why, now, but you didn't ruin shit."

"I know. But now you can fix it." You sigh. "It's just a matter of telling John I finally told you, and that you told me you don't feel the same way, and..."

"Not that simple."

You can feel your cheeks flaring, but you try to ignore it.

"What do you mean, not that simple? Of course it's that simple. John got all messed up about me liking you, so the instant I start trying to get over my crush because you rejected me, you guys can start untwisting his panties and get things back to normal."

"Karkat, bro. You're my friend too. Even if I did do that, it wouldn't feel right. I mean, you came out to John and his reaction was to tantrum about it and treat you like that? I just figured you'd insulted his new best buddy."

Ah. That.

"I may also have done that. Afterwards, when we were trying to hang out again," you confess. "She's...not a good person."

"Well, that's kind of between her and John." Dave takes you by the shoulders. "But Karkat, I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for a friendship that John threw away. You and me? We're friends too. You're as good a friend to me as John, and..." He trails off. "Well, not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

He bites his lip, before very gently leaning in and kissing your cheek.

Dave Strider just kissed your cheek.

Dave Strider just kissed you.

You stand there, frozen, and he sighs heavily.

"I. Might kind of like you. You know, myself."

"Oh, s-smooth, Strider," you manage.

"Hey, it's not nearly as smooth as demanding entry to my house, dumping bombshells, and trying to move on from how you like me," he retorts. "Karkat, I think John knew, somehow. Whether it was signals or whatever that he picked up on, he knew I liked you. But that's not important. What's important is that if you asked me out on a date, right here, right now, I'd say yes."

You try to formulate the words, but your tongue seems almost to be stuck to the roof of your mouth. He watches for a minute, and then sighs.

"Or, you know, that if I asked you on a date, you'd probably be really chill with that, too. Or, if I asked you to date me. Fuck it. Karkat, are we dating?"

"You're rambling." But you can't say it with quite the snap you want. "Yes, then. I, uh. Guess we're dating."

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool."

He's decidedly uncool, and you're decidedly swooned by it. You lean up and kiss his cheek, ever so gently.

"Cool," you say, softly.

He doesn't hate you. He likes you back. Dave Strider, your crush (your boyfriend, fuck) likes you back. Your brain isn't sure how to handle it, but as he sits you down again and asks you if you want to watch anything, you decide you don't have to handle it.

You just have to ride the wave.

Chapter Text

Amanda Palmer and Brian Viglione are plastered upon your wall, staring at you from behind iron gates as you stare back.

You have always loved this poster, or at least, since you got it. You liked the open, angry lyrics, and you’ve seen them play. It was a magical night you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

But you are here. In your room. You are not at a concert, crying as Amanda Palmer plays her amazing music. You are here, and your father is dead. Your sister is playing loud angry music in her room, your mother is in pieces, and you are feeling almost cold.

You remember this feeling.

This is the feeling you get when emotions get too much. When you can’t handle everything rising within you, and you find yourself flat and cold. As Sollux would say, sarcastically, the life of the party.

It might seem a bit harsh, coming from him. He is, after all, supposed to be a close friend of yours. But you know what he means, and back then, he was so scared for you, only for you to robotically tell him that you were fine. You were fine. You had to be fine.

The doctors said it was a form of shock, and that in time, it would ease. They were right. A month or so later, you were sat in your room, reading quietly, and tears started dropping on the pages. You hadn’t even realised you’d started to cry. The sadness and anger had finally broken past the dam your mind had put up, and it had been too much. You’d skipped school, crying under your bedsheets like a kid.

You don’t know when the floodgates will break this time.

You envy Damara, right now. Damara has never had to wait to feel. She feels all the time – strongly, perhaps too strongly – but you fear times like this, when you just shut down. You hate this, deep down, but mostly, you feel normal. You shouldn’t feel normal at a time like this, but you woke up feeling numb and exactly like you had before.

Instead of dwelling on it, you find yourself sat with a notebook and a tab open on your phone, pulling up a website on the meaning of dreams.

You write down the dates on the page, and what you can remember under each of them, alongside what the website says it means. A struggle, or confrontation. It seems wrong, somehow, but you write it down anyway and then put the notebook by your bed. You’re still reeling from the memory of the dream you had, of the image of your father pulling you out of the water and then dying in front of you. You’re confused as to why you’d then dream of Eridan Ampora, but something in you, something that’s certain it’s right, is telling you that it’s important, so you write down every bit of last night’s dream.  

Vriska used to say you were freaky.

She used to ask what you were writing down, if you had a Ouija board, if you were a witch. You don’t view yourself as a witch, not really. You’re just someone who believes in many different things. You have an omamori sent to you every year by your grandmother, and thanks to her instructions, you burn the old ones every New Year’s Day in the yard. You also have your tarot cards, of course. You never disclosed any of this to Vriska, because one look at her would tell anybody that she would never understand. You knew she was basing the witch stuff off of what your mom does, and anything else she’d known would have just made it worse.

In History, you two mostly came at the top of the class. Especially when Eridan left. You both knew your stuff, and eventually, her low opinion of you gave way to a grudging respect for a rival. Slowly, you two became sort of friends. You’d get in her way when she tried to bully Tavros, and then she’d tell you to go summon a ghost or something, but in your own way, you at least got along somewhat. You’d already been friends with Terezi, anyway, and once the pair of them found out that you and Tavros also played Dungeons and Dragons, things had improved massively. You’d had a club, for a little while.

For a little while, things had been wonderful.

You even remember your characters. The Guild of Scourge, due to Vriska’s insistence. Terezi had been an amazing Dungeon Master, creating dungeons that you all barely survived and loved. Vriska’s drow rogue had thrown herself recklessly all over the place, but your tiefling cleric had always been there to catch her, and Tavros’ firbolg druid had been such a good support for you both. It had been exhilarating to play together, fighting together, earning treasure and a name for yourselves. You’d never seen it coming to an end.

How long had it been since you’d even touched your handbooks? How long since you’d seen your dice? You’re not sure. You hadn’t been able to think of starting again since your accident. It didn’t seem possible to start playing again without playing with Vriska, and it wasn’t possible to play with Vriska either, so instead, you’d put your books on the shelf and your dice in their bag in front of them. Your character sheet had been neatly tucked into your copy of the Player’s Handbook, and you’d felt so much regret for your character, who of course hadn’t done anything wrong.

You look over at the bookshelf. They were still there, gathering dust. Tavros had asked you a few times if you wanted to play again, but you didn’t quite feel right about it, so you always refused – but you’d never quite managed to throw them away either.

You walk over, and gently take out the Player’s Handbook. It’s been a while since you’ve seen it, but the memories come flooding back. You reach for the notebook next to it, with all the notes that you’d made on the sessions. Even though you remember, you flip to the notes on the last session you’d ever played.

You’d been heading for a cave system, following a trail that you’d been finding since the first session. Vriska’s rogue had been wrestling with the idea that it might be a cult of Lolth, in which case, she might have to abandon her teammates, while you and Tavros were nervous about heading underground, where drow who weren’t as friendly as Vriska’s character were known to live. You’d managed to fight off a bunch of giant spiders, and then a cave full of giant bats, and you’d finally come to a cave where you could rest and started talking with each other.

Spinneret hadn’t opened up, but instead talked about how caves like these almost made her homesick, and you’d all been looking forward to actually finding the cult and recovering the jewel that they’d stolen. You feel very sad for your younger self, who had no idea what was going to happen. You can remember the excitement you had for the next session. You can remember how excited Tavros was, and how he was asking you questions all the while you were walking him to the parking lot.

Do you think there will be driders?

Do you think Terezi will throw Lolth at us?

Oh man, those giant spiders were tough!

He’d been so happy.

You sit for a while with your old character sheet, looking down at it. It strikes you that getting out your old Dungeons and Dragons stuff is a weird thing to do the morning after you learn that your father has been shot, but hey, weird is kind of your thing.

Clairvoyance had been so precious to you at the time. You’d enjoyed every second you played as her. You don’t think you could play as her again, but you do think you might be ready to play D & D again.

You dust off the handbooks, bringing them out, poring over rules you’d forgotten. You manage to get a decent way through the Player’s Handbook before your mother knocks at the door.

“Aradia?”

“Come in, Mom.”

She comes in, and you can see she’s surprised.

“I…” She moves to sit down on the bed. “I checked on Damara.”

“I can hear the music.”

“Yes. She’s not taking the news so well.”

“I might not be either.” You keep your book open. “I think it’s happening again. I woke up this morning and couldn’t feel anything.”

She looks at you critically for a moment, and sighs.

“I told you last time. You are grieving.”

“I don’t feel like I’m grieving.” You turn a page, reading through the cleric’s introduction. “I don’t feel like much of anything. It’s like someone’s turned the volume down on everything.”

“That can be how grief works.” Your mother seems quieter, somehow. “I feel angry, Aradia. I am angry with your father still, after all these years. I knew of the risk, but that it happened makes me so angry.”

“Have you heard him?”

It would seem an odd question to anyone else. But your family deals in the odd and the strange.

“No. I think he knows how I feel. He would be a bigger fool than I thought if he did not.” She seems to be looking at you sadly. “Why are you reading those again?”

Your mother knows you too well.

“I thought I might start playing again.”

“I see.” She stands up, walking over to sit down next to you. The silence stretches between you for a minute. It’s a strange, quiet silence. Like a lake.

“I think it’s been long enough. I’ll never play with Vriska again, but I just keep remembering how much I enjoyed it.” You look up at her. “And Tavros asked me to play, after my accident. But I always said no. I miss playing with him.”

“It isn’t because he has no one else to play with?”

“Mom, would I do that to him?” You decide, privately, you don’t want to play another cleric. You turn the page. “Tavros deserves better than that. I genuinely want to play again.”

“It was bad, what happened.”

She’s pushing. You let her.

“What happened between you and your friends. I know you were hurt.”

“I was hurt, Mom. It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy D & D again, does it?” You try to smile, but it’s not that great of a smile, and she reaches across, rubbing her thumb gently across your cheek. It means I love you. You would cry, if today was a normal day.

“You were hurt.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “But it was not the fault of this game. I know that much, Aradia. I am just worried that memories of the game would hurt too.”

“They do, a little. It’s just…if I keep being hurt, I’ll stay hurt, and I’ll never be able to play again. And I want to play.”

“I understand.” She picks up your old character sheet. “So, is this your…player?”

“Character. No, that’s from Terezi’s campaign. I’ll have to make a new one from scratch. I don’t want to play her anymore.”

“What will you do with this?”

“I don’t know.” You finally put the book down. “I never wanted to burn it, or bury it, or destroy her. I just…can't be her anymore.”

She unfolds it, and then hands it back to you.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You play again. I trust you to know what’s best for yourself. But keep yourself safe this time, Aradia. You got off lightly.”

She’s right. You could have died if you’d fallen wrong. You lean over and hug her.

“I got it, Mom.”

“Okay,” she says, again, hugging you back, before letting go and standing up, brushing down her skirt. “Come down for lunch in an hour. I want to make sure you eat.”

You both remember the days where that was hard. Where you didn’t care enough.

“I promise, Mom.”

That seems to satisfy her, and she leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. You pick the book back up and keep reading.

Atta girl.

The whisper of the words is so faint you almost don’t hear it.

“Mom?” you call. She doesn’t respond. You must have just misheard something. You go back to reading about how to level up a druid, a little unsettled.

You’re hearing things. Right?

Chapter Text

The kid, as far as you can tell, isn't necessarily a bad kid.

You sit down on the beach, and he immediately starts looking for shells, bringing you back nice ones.

"Aw, thanks," you say, the first couple of times. When you have a pile beside you, you just smile every time he adds a new one to the heap, but you get the idea that something else is going on in his head. So you wait.

Eventually, he takes nearly all of them (except a few nice ones, which might actually be for you) and starts arranging them in the sand. In white and pink, he works hard, placing each of them down until he has half a picture of what just looks like wiggly lines to you, and then he's off again, collecting up shells with a certain determination. The wiggly lines grow while you watch, bemused.

You'd kind of hoped that this kid would be able to take your mind off of the absolute shitshow going on in your social circle, but it would appear he is far more occupied with whatever the fuck this is. He's humming happily, though, so at least he's enjoying it. You, on the other hand, are thinking about the last chat you and Janey had.

She's been really torn up lately, with everything that's happened. You guess that she thought in this scenario that Jake would come talk to her about it, but if anything, he's been talking to her less, holing himself up to do whatever it is he does when he goes through a rough patch. You've tried not to say anything that would give away that he does, occasionally, talk to you. But Jane's hurt. Badly. You'd have to be an idiot not to see that she has a major thing for Jake.

You honestly don't see the appeal. Your best friend and your brother are both head over heels for your other best friend, who's just...a dork who likes guns and terrible movies. And of course, Jane has the added factor of feeling like she's betraying Dirk for even having these feelings, so she's been overly bright and cheerful around him, as if that hides how she feels. But then she'll come and talk to you about it, and in the worst moments, snap at you because it's all too much for her.

You needed a break from thinking about it, but you haven't got one yet.

Eridan is almost done with whatever it is on the beach, which is looking like a donut with tentacles the more he works on it, and you give him a cheerful wave while your mind goes back to trying to untangle the situation. You've tried inviting Jake to social functions, but it never works. He fails to show because he gets so wrapped up in whatever he's doing to make himself feel better and loses track of time. Jane and you hang out sometimes, but between work and wanting to be alone, your hangout times are happening less and less often. Plus, you don't want to put them both in a room in case the two of them get together and it fucks everything over further.

Dirk will come to you when he's ready. You know your brother pretty well by now, after all.

But you're tired. You're tired of gluing everyone back together, of picking up every tiny piece only for it to all fall apart again.

"Eridan, how you doing?" you yell across the beach, after about twenty minutes of trying to work through a scenario in which you could hang out with Jake and try and talk about the elephant in the room.

"Done," Eridan shouts back, startling you.

Fuck. Kid can speak sometimes, huh. You walk back over to him after picking up your shells, and check out the tentacle donut.

Yeah, it's a donut with tentacles alright. You pat him on the shoulder.

"Good job, kid. It looks pretty cool."

He seems more alert than before, and turns to smile at you. It might be your imagination, but you definitely feel like he's more awake, which is a weird thought for you to be having, but hey. You smile back.

"Do you wanna go get some ice cream? I'm friends with one of the girls who works there." It's at the top of the beach, a little ways away, and no matter the weather tends to stay open. Eridan looks interested, so you start tugging him away from his weird shell sculpture. The image of white tentacles flashes into your head, briefly, from your dream last night, and you slow down just slightly as you look back at it.

It must be something to do with him. You're sure of it.

"Hey, Eri, you mind if I just take a picture of that real quick?"

He shrugs, so you dig your phone out of your pocket and move until you can take a decent picture of the Tentacle Donut, snapping a few just in case. You take his arm again once you're done.

"Aight, thanks." You smile. "Come on. Let's go get ourselves some ice cream."

Meulin isn't working today, but Chixie is, and she waves cautiously to you. You brighten up.

"Oh, neat! Hey Chix!"

"Hi, Roxy." Her voice is as quiet as always, and you march Eridan over to the counter.

"I'd like one Cotton Candy sundae and...one Honeycomb Surprise." You grin at her. "How's it going, haven't seen you around in a while."

"I've been busy." Chixie gives you kind of half a smile. "Saving up for a new microphone."

"Aw, nice! I keep tellin' ya, you've got a voice that should be somewhere nicer than our karaoke nights. Oh, Chixie, this is Eridan. He's, uh, a family friend."

She gives him a wave, and takes your money.

"Sit down, I'll bring them right over. Meulin was supposed to be coming in today, but we swapped shifts because she had to help Nepeta with something. Something about a convention?"

Shit, she's right. Meulin always helps her little sis out when convention season starts rolling around, and summer is the height of it. You could smack your own forehead, but instead, you sit opposite Eridan, who's frowning for some reason.

"Everything okay, buddy?"

He nods, and you smile at him.

"Chixie and Meulin both work here. Meulin I know from school, and Chixie comes to the karaoke nights at my work sometimes. She's got an amazing voice, seriously." You wait, but it doesn't appear you're going to get another word out of him, so you carry on talking. "The ice cream here is seriously good. I ordered you the Honeycomb Surprise, and I'm having a Cotton Candy, so if you don't like yours we can switch."

"You're lucky to have gotten here when you did," Chixie calls over. "We're nearly out of honeycomb ice cream."

"You know you're my babe, Chixie, always and forever!" you call back. You turn back to Eridan. "Anyhow, it's what me and my sibs used to do when we came here. We'd all order what looked good, and just switch if we weren't sure. Rose likes the blackberry stuff the best, but they don't often have it in, and, I dunno, there's just something about sharing ice cream that gets your serotonin going, isn't there?" You're well aware that you're yammering on at this point, but his frown is gone, and he's almost smiling.

"Yeah, exactly. Ice cream in summer, nothing like it. Although sometimes this place is a bit empty, earlier in the morning. Best time to come, really, before the Karen Armada descends."

You pretend not to hear Chixie snorting. She's told you plenty of horror stories about what it's like working here when entitled parents and their kids come through and act like they own the place. Man, you're glad that you work at a place with bouncers.

She brings your sundaes over and Eridan's eyes go a little wide at the ice cream, and he immediately picks up a spoon and starts digging in. You do the same. Cotton Candy has been your favourite sundae on the menu since you discovered it by chance. You get halfway through before looking up to see Eridan has almost finished his ice cream.

"Damn, son!" You offer him a high five, and he gently paps your hand with his. "Want some of mine?"

He shakes his head, and you continue finishing off yours as he starts chasing the little dribbles of ice cream left with a spoon. You guess even eldritch teenagers can still be kids at heart.

It's almost relaxing, actually. You both eat in silence, and you feel content. Probably because all this kid is counting on you for is to provide him with ice cream. You feel your shoulders relax as you eat your last spoonful of ice cream.

A small idea pops up in your mind, however, and you file it away for later. It could be a way to hack the whole situation, and make it work for you - even if it is a cheap tactic that belongs to only the trashiest of plots. You reach across and ruffle Eridan's hair.

"You know, Eridan, I believe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

He looks at you, confused, but you give him a bright, wonderful, Ro-Lal grin. You're the master of solving problems. It's you.

Chapter Text

Towards the end of the two of you watching Just Like Heaven, Karkat is asleep and leaning on your shoulder. You’ve always liked the face he makes when he’s asleep – maybe because he looks so relaxed, for once, or maybe because you had a big massive crush on him – so you find yourself smiling softly down at him.

Man.

Karkat continues to surprise you over and over. He’s not ever been someone to do the expected, and he’s never been someone that bored you. Not that predictable people are bad, but even when Karkat’s angry at you, it fascinates you how he just is. You feel bad, though, that he felt he had to act like that. You know Karkat very well by this point. As much as he pushes others, his self-worth has always been low, despite the best efforts of everyone around him. He thought that you and John came first.

You’re still not sure how you feel about what’s happened, too. Ask you a few years ago who came first, who you’d rescue from a burning building, and you’d have picked John every time. But your priorities seem to have shifted quite a bit. Maybe that’s why John’s so scared. Still, he’s been a jackass. You would have hung out like you always do, you’re pretty sure of that. What was he scared of, that the two of you would make him third wheel? That you’d make out in front of him? The hell was he so scared of that he had to treat Karkat (your Karkat) like that?

You know you’ll just run in circles down this path, though. John’s always been one of those people who sticks in one place. He’s the All-American Boy, and he doesn’t like change. He hates change. Hell, if a menu changes at a place he won’t know what to eat. When Terezi became a dubious part of your little Karkat-John-Dave group, he also didn’t like it so much, and to this day he seems antsy around her. Not that he was wrong on the front that that changed things, given that both you and Karkat liked her at the time.

Karkat gives a little snore, and you gently move, laying him down on the couch and heading to the closet to grab a blanket. Thanks to the girls, you have about a hundred of these things. Most of them are hand knitted, too, from whenever one of them got bored. You grab one with little crochet stars on it, which looks comfy, and a big stripy one for yourself, and head back, tucking Karkat up under the stars one. His hands grab a corner in his sleep and he mutters something nonsensical and snores again, mouth open and drooling.

God, he’s adorable and you’re going to actually die from it.

You put the other blanket over his feet for now, and go into the hallway to call his house. You kinda hope his brother doesn’t pick up – it being this late guarantees you’ll get some sort of lecture on how late it is and how you’re disturbing them.

Thankfully, it’s Karkat’s dad who picks up, and you clear your throat, trying to keep your Strider cool. Focus, Dave, try not to be a dork just because this man’s son is the cutest thing alive.

“Hello, this is Silas Vantas—”

“Hi, Mr Vantas?” You clear your throat again. “It’s. Um. It’s me, Dave.”

“Oh, hello Dave!” He sounds happy to hear from you. “Is everything alright? How are you?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, everything’s, um, fine. Listen, uh, Karkat fell asleep watching a movie, so I was gonna ask if he could stay the night. He’s, um, on the couch.” You’re inwardly cursing yourself. This is perhaps the most uncool conversation you’ve ever had. Well, actually, second, if you count your terrible confession to your boyfriend that also happened today.

“Oh! Well, thanks for calling us. It’s fine…” Karkat’s dad trails off. “Actually, if you could make sure he wakes up early, that would be really helpful. We’ve got a bake sale tomorrow at the church, and we need all hands on deck.”

“Oh.” You feel a little dazed for a minute. Of course Karkat has real life stuff to attend to other than being your boyfriend. Duh. Unfortunately, your dumb brain has other plans, and before you can stop the words leaping out of your mouth, they’re out.

“You want me to come help? I can drop him off at the church anyway.”

Mr Vantas sounds delighted. “I’d love for you to! We’ve had a bigger turn out than I’ve expected. Karkat can tell you which of the ladies need to be separated. Thank you, Dave.”

“Y-Yeah. Okay, bye.”

Ah, geez. You hang up and walk back over to the sofa. So now you’re going to a church on top of everything else, which is probably going to feel weird now that you have a boyfriend. You’re pretty sure your local church doesn’t actually care about that, because Karkat’s dad is a very chill individual, but a little knot of worry sits in your stomach. What if the other people there aren’t?

It sits in your stomach as you pull the blanket off Karkat’s feet and head to the other sofa, where you can still see him. Karkat’s face is still peaceful, still relaxed, and it’s a pretty nice moment, in the dark and the quiet, lit up by the light of the television. You can almost ignore the light dusting of fear your brain is giving this anxiety soup.

The trouble is, you used to live in Texas, in an area that wasn’t kind, with a guy who was openly not into the whole religious thing, which bothered some of your well-meaning neighbours. Occasionally, they’d have a problem with the fact that a kid stayed home on a Sunday, and try to talk to him about it. You’re not saying all of Texas is like that, but you were definitely in one of the areas that had strict ideas. One woman even offered to take you with her kids to church on Sundays, an idea that didn’t exactly go down well for whatever reason. All you heard was Bro telling her to get the fuck out of his doorway.

You don’t exactly think she should have got yelled at.

Anyway, you (as a result) kind of have a complicated relationship with churches. Karkat’s explained to you a few times that his church is pretty lax, and that his dad is one of the people who helps organise everything. Kind of like a deputy priest. He’ll do Easter Egg hunts, carol practice, he’ll help out with the kids when needed, and he throws himself into every activity. Not exactly to pass on his beliefs, but because he believes it’s important for there to be a community that people can rely on.

You’ve never actually…helped out at one of these events. You’ll go to the ones that aren’t actually inside the church, like the Easter Egg hunt out at the nearby park, or you’ll drop by and see Karkat if they’re doing something and you think he could use some time off. But you’ve never, well, gone inside the church.

It’s not like you’re frightened of bursting into flames. It’s just that Bro was very against it. He never told you why, either, but you’re pretty sure it had something to do with the idea of signing a kid up to a belief. Ironic, that. You clutch your blanket closer to you. Belief isn’t so much of a choice as it seems. Belief is what you find in a moment of crisis. You were sure that you believed only in Bro, but when the time came, you relied on Dirk. You didn’t even know him, but you relied on him for whatever reason.

Maybe you’re overthinking this, though. You turn over and try not to let it bother you.

Chapter Text

You wake up midway through Sunday to an empty house, aside from Eridan, who is sleeping in, snoring happily. You’ve managed not to have any creepy dreams, and so you come into the room and pull out your phone.

Sunday, 10 AM. God knows where Roxy is, or Rose, and you think maybe Dave’s with Karkat. You vaguely remember seeing them last night as you came in.

So, mystery time. Who is Eridan, and why do people know him? If he used to live here, that puts paid to your theory that he’s an otherworldly creature, but at the same time, he popped out of your bathtub, which also isn’t a normal human thing.

You scroll through your phone, checking texts. One from Roxy, saying she’s leaving now but you were asleep, one from Dave saying he’s taking Karkat over to the church. Rose hasn’t texted you, but then Rose tends to either text very precisely or not at all. You text Roxy back, letting her know you’re up and about, and debate texting Damara. Knowing her, you should probably check in, but for now it feels like you’d be intruding.

Instead, you start mulling over Eridan again. Roxy is right. You’re flashing back heavily to when Dave essentially landed on your doorstep, and it’s bringing up all sorts of worrying mother-hen tendencies. The kid has no clothes, aside from the ones in the wash. He doesn’t have a single thing to call his own. Hell, you don’t even know what he likes.

You should, however, probably take him out shopping tomorrow before the clothes-sharing becomes an actual, real problem. Dave has a decent amount of clothes for a teenage boy, but if you continue sharing them between him and Eridan there’s going to be a problem in the laundry department. Plus, it’s not like Eridan can borrow yours.

A memory rises to the surface of the last time you took a stranded teen out shopping for clothes, and you feel your face set like stone. You had to, of course. Dave had a few things with him, but most were in a weird condition, with a couple that were irreversibly bloodstained. You’d tried to get him to talk about, which you’d both hated, and in the end you’d given up and hauled his ass to the local store.

He’d barely said anything, face blank in the way it always was back then. Muscles clenched. Fight or flight.

Did he like this? He wouldn't respond.

You’d barely kept your temper, but you were hyper aware of how much you looked like your dad, so you’d kept it in check, picking out red, white, black. Colours he already wore. You’d picked out boxers, socks, pants, and shirts, rinse and repeat, until you had a decent wardrobe for the kid. You remember the deep seated frustration that despite your best efforts to distance yourself from both parents, here you were, cleaning up after their mess and stepping in when they should have. When none of this should have happened in the first place.

Still, if you didn’t step up, you knew what would happen, and where your siblings could end up. It would have been messy.

Dave hadn’t said anything, not even when you were home and the clothes were in bags on his bed. He’d worn them, but he didn’t seem connected to them at all. He just looked out of place, until you had enough and went into his room, shutting the door behind you. He’d jumped up, immediately, holding that same stance.

You hated that.

“Listen, kid.” You remember saying it, to this day. “I’m not going to fight you. I know I’m not good at this. But I’m not a mind-reader either. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but if you want something you’ve got to find a way to tell me.”

He’d stared you down, and you’d left. A note had been shoved under your door the next day.

‘The clothes are fine.’

He’d scribbled it in red pen. And you’d begun a system.

‘Do you actually like them, though?’

‘You’re worrying too much.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Isn’t there anywhere you like to shop?’

‘I don’t know.’

And that had been the problem. Dave just...didn’t know what he liked. The internet had been available, but he didn’t shop with Bro, or get his own clothes. Clothes just...happened. You’d turned it over in your head, and the notes had progressed.

‘Dave, what do you like?’

‘My webcomic. I like making that.’ He’d written the url down and you’d been suitably horrified and amused.

‘What if I got you a shirt like that?’

‘What.’

‘I could get you a shirt with your characters on. Like, printed, ordered. Boom.’

‘Okay, seriously, what the FUCK.’

You’d done so, and you even think he still has the fucking thing somewhere. It was one of the first times you saw him laugh when he opened it, absolutely hysterical with laughter while Rose raised her eyebrows at you and then skittered off upstairs. That had been another obstacle at the time. Shirts couldn’t mend everything, especially not their estranged nature. Talking over the internet was one thing, but meeting in person and living together all in the same breath had been another. Rose was sarcastic, aloof, and defensive, while Dave was quiet and loud in bursts. Neither had really known what to do, and you and Roxy sure as hell didn’t.

Still, these days you wouldn’t know they’d been separate for so long.

Maybe that was why Eridan had turned up in your bathtub. Maybe it was going, hey Dirk, you did this before, and even though it was a lot for you to handle, we thought you should do it again!

In which case, fuck the universe. This isn’t your goddamn hobby.

“If I had a cent for every time this shit had happened, I’d have two cents,” you mutter under your breath, walking into your own room and grabbing a pen and notepad. You start writing, crossing things out, and trying to think if there’s anything you’ve forgotten. It’s a messy little web by the end of it, and you tear it out, starting again by writing down the major points.

One, Eridan apparently used to live around here, so you need to look into that.

Two, he needs clothes.

Three, he’s eating now so you need to rework the food bill. Not that it’s a big issue, because you are pretty good when it comes to finances (plus you have some income yourself) but an extra mouth costs more.

Four, house meeting. Roxy knows, but Rose doesn’t, as far as you know. Plus it’d be nice to get everyone up to speed.

Five, if he’s human, what is so weird about him?

But Terezi definitely knew him. There was no mistaking it, and Eridan isn’t exactly a common name. You try to think of more things that need to be addressed. When Dave arrived, you were scrambling all over the place trying to make sure everyone’s ass was covered and all that crap, but now, you at least have some prior experience. What else does he need?

Six, who is Crow?

Eridan finally wakes up around half eleven, and wanders downstairs to the kitchen and just, shakes out Lucky Charms into a bowl. You’re relieved enough to see him doing normal shit that you don’t even tell him those are Dave’s, but you do write down Seven, Replace Lucky Charms and Get Eridan His Own Cereal.

“So. It’s Sunday. I’ve got fuck all to do.” You look at Eridan. “Is there anything you want to do?”

He doesn’t respond, which, you know, is to be expected. But you forge ahead anyway.

“We’re going out shopping tomorrow, by the way. We’ll get you some clothes and shit.”

Now he looks more concerned, head turning towards you. He gestures at his own clothes, and you shake your head.

“Those are Dave’s. Seriously, we’re going tomorrow, picking up some clothes, and cereal.” You again stop yourself from pointing out that’s Dave’s.

His face scrunches up, but he doesn’t fuss or anything, so you figure he’s making his peace with it. You try to think what the two of you can even do today. It’s not like he has any stuff to entertain him, and you...certainly aren’t sure what would even be a good idea. Still, you’ve got to do something. You go back to thinking, punctuated by the occasional crunch of Eridan making his way through the Lucky Charms.

What are you even supposed to do to entertain a possibly eldritch teenager? Everything you can think of is an idea you immediately disregard as stupid. Well, fuck, guess the two of you are doing chores today. Yay.

“Okay, change of plans, Eridan.” You rap on the table sharply. “We’re going shopping today.”

He looks alarmed.

“Dude, we have nothing else to do, nowhere to be, and if we keep going like this, you’ll have no clothes to wear. Laundry in this house might happen, but it sure as hell doesn’t happen enough for you and Dave to keep sharing. Finish your breakfast, and we’ll take my car.”

He gives you a wide-eyed look, but you’re set on the idea now, and flip over a page to write a shopping list. Clothes, Lucky Charms, whatever cereal Eridan likes, apple juice for Dave because it’s apparently the only liquid he’ll drink...Probably some shampoo and conditioner, because while the girls have their own that they like, you and Dave tend to get into serious hot water for just grabbing the nearest thing and going with it. Rose likes stuff that’s gently spiced, Roxy likes candy or fruity stuff, and so there’s usually a generic type you and Dave use. But Eridan probably needs his own shit if he’s crashing here.

Although, to be clear, he’s not yet been back in the bathtub. You should probably make the kid have a shower.

Eridan places his bowl on the table and waits, and you start walking towards the door with him scurrying after him. You tear out your impromptu shopping list and shove it into your back pocket.

“Right, so, same ground rules as last time. No singing, creepy or otherwise.” You open the door for him. “It’s Sunday, so it’s probably going to be pretty quiet, but..” You realise you don’t know where you’re going with the sentence and instead move out, locking the door behind you and texting your siblings that you’ve left the house and you’re going to the shops.

The store is bright, as per fucking usual, and there’s a few employees here and there. You make a beeline for the clothing aisle, Eridan in tow, where you start digging for Dave’s size among the tees.

Plain grey, black, and white all go in the trolley initially, until Eridan deliberately picks up the white and hands it back.

“What?” you say, almost stupidly, until you realise that he’s pushing it against your chest.

He doesn’t want it. At all. You try to put it back in, and he shoves it back out with such force that despite your clear difference in strength, you stagger back a step.

“Okay then, Mr Tight Pants, you don’t have to have it.” You wait a moment, and let the thought process. He doesn’t actually want it. He might know what he likes.

You stand back, and he looks at you with those big, almost nervous eyes again. The kid’s jumpier than usual today, and you’re not sure why, but he almost seems more alert. Definitely like he’s coming off something, whatever that is. Still, you clear your throat.

“If you want a say in what you get, you pick it out. Don’t throw any tantrums if you don’t step forward.” Words you could have said years ago come pouring out. “Feel free to pick whatever you want, so long as it’s not stupid expensive, and don’t get more than you need. But I’m not going to stop you from picking your own clothes. They’re going to be yours.”

It’s clunky, as a speech. But you wish you could have said it to Dave all those years ago, rather than Eridan, whose eyes light up slightly as he looks first at you and then at the aisle. He heads right for the dress shirts, picking up some black ones and even a purple one that’s there for whatever reason. You guess the store decided to try out something other than white, black, and navy for men. Still, watching him rush around and picking things out makes you wish that this had been Dave, right at the start of things. That Dave could have had this reaction instead of feeling like everything was a test.

Dave eventually phased out at least half of the clothes you got for him on that first trip, going for more graphic tees and stupid stuff that showed off the things he liked, getting more comfortable in the clothes he wore. Everything you’d bought him, he told you later he was grateful for when he could appreciate it, but that at the time he had no idea what the protocol was or why you’d brought him with you instead of bringing it in and expecting him to wear it. Things weren’t preferred or disliked in Bro’s house, they just were.

At least, according to Dave.

He’d said even then, he’d hated the strifing and constant puppets and weird shit that Bro had pulled on him daily, but that him disliking it would never have not made it so. He’d fallen into a strange apathy. The idea that what he said and did could actually influence things had been a fairly new idea at the time, and barely existed outside of the internet until he’d phoned you.

You guess what you mean is that it’s sad your kid brother didn’t know how to pick his own clothes.

Eventually, Eridan exhausts his options, although he’s chosen a decent chunk of things, and you guys wheel the trolley through to the rest of the store. Eridan chooses Lucky Charms (because of course) and you put a second box in the trolley for Dave. Eridan swoops in on something that calls itself ‘Honey and Almond Repairing Shampoo’, which you guess okay, that’s fine, whatever floats his boat, and you pick up a bunch of juice for Dave. In fact, you tick off everything on the list surprisingly quickly.

You are also pretty sure that Eridan thinks your taste in conditioner is bad, because the look he gave you when you went for your regular brand of Generic Ass Conditioner was definitely one you’d describe as ‘are you shitting me’. You still put it in the trolley.

Despite him putting it back once.

Eridan also seemed keenly interested in everything around you. Some snacks, he seemed to want, whereas others, he acted like he’d never seen them before. You take the opportunity to load up on Doritos a bit, and Eridan gently and reverentially picked up a pack of chocolate covered pretzels, along with some goldfish crackers (original and rainbow, if you please.)

It’s an entirely different experience to shopping with Dave that first time, and it’s strange. Eridan is interested, and while things are new he seems to want to experience them. It juxtaposes sharply exactly how bad things must have been for your little brother, and you find that alongside your curiosity in Eridan, there’s a heavy sadness as your brain flickers back to those memories. You almost wish you could rewind and let Dave know everything was okay, that he was allowed to be happy and safe now.

You at least hope that in his own way, your younger brother is happy now.

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone, I'm back!

I'm aware this isn't a chapter and I'm also aware that things were drawing together in the story. Don't worry, we're getting there, and I'm working out some things with it. Damara ended up being more difficult to write than expected, but then, why shouldn't she be? That's just what she's like.

Anyway, what happened was that I moved. I moved! I'm now in my own place for the first time in my life, and it's heaven and terrifying all at once. I've been slowly unpacking boxes and sorting things out, but I've also been keeping my hobbies in storage until I had everything under control. I have a disability that requires a carer, and I briefly lost that and had to appeal it, so that took up a good chunk of my time, but we're back to normal broadcasting now.

I'll be updating all my fics as often as I possibly can, and I'm really looking forward to continuing these stories!

Chapter Text

To your surprise, you’re not as uncomfortable as you thought you’d be.

For a start, the bake sale is being held outside in the sunshine, rather than inside the church, and the hustle and bustle of organising everyone has taken your mind off of things for the most part. Elderly ladies are being escorted by slightly younger women, and Karkat’s giving you a running commentary that you don’t quite get but enjoy.

“That’s Mrs Gladding, she wanted everyone to be in charge of one type of cake, and that’s her daughter Emma.” He nods towards an elderly woman who looks the picture of innocence, followed by a harassed-looking woman carrying an overly large cake. “And over there is Emma’s husband Sandy, with the kids.”

“So…”

“Emma’s alright, but Mrs Gladding’s going to try and move the cakes around without checking to see where we’ve put the price tags.” Karkat rolls his eyes. “I mean, some of the others do the same, but Mrs Gladding is our worst fucking offender.”

You nod, slowly.

“She’s also one of the top dogs,” he adds.

There’s a few old ladies he’s pointed out who are the ‘top dogs’, and you watch as Mrs Gladding sweeps across to join the others, taking their hands and smiling broadly. Emma makes her way over to a table and sets down the extravagant cake, looking almost defeated.

“I’m gonna get Emma something to drink,” Karkat mutters. “Her mother always makes her carry everything.”

You follow him as he goes to one of the coolers and fishes out a bottle of ice tea, and you both walk over to Emma, who is trying to place a small tin of butterfly cakes without knocking anything else out of the way.

“Karkat!” You can tell she’s plastering on a smile, but it doesn’t seem personal.

“I brought you a drink,” he says, a little gruffly, and she takes it with a more genuine smile this time.

“Thanks. Mom’s been so excited about this, and of course, with Dylan…” She looks over to her husband, who’s holding a wailing toddler while a little girl in a frilly dress tugs at his sleeve. You couldn’t for the life of you tell which kid’s supposed to be Dylan.

“Well, we’ve got to head back, but stop by our table if you need a rest,” Karkat says, and she looks relieved.

“Emma!” You hear her mother call, insistent.

“Gotta go.” Emma smiled at the two of you. “You’re such a sweet boy, you know that, Karkat?” She holds up the drink like evidence, and then hurries off.

“She used to be my babysitter in the church group,” Karkat says, almost offhandedly. “But her mom runs her ragged.”

“I can see that.” You feel sorry for Emma as she’s drawn into the circle of old ladies who all start fussing around her. “Why is that, though?”

“Oh, her sister’s the favourite and moved away. Mrs Gladding’s convinced she can’t do anything without Emma now, but…” Karkat rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Sandy’s Mrs Sanderson’s son.”

“Wait, so his name isn’t actually Sandy?”

“It’s Sandy by choice. He’s named after his dad, so he always says it was Sandy or Junior, and Sandy’s way less embarrassing.”

You glance across at Sandy, who is patiently sitting with his children on the grass by now with a book. It’s almost picturesque, but compared with how Emma is clearly undergoing interrogation by the Geriatric Inquisition, you’re not so sure.

“Oh, and you see that girl over there?” Karkat points to a girl with long hair, sat with a bunch of kids. “She’s in charge of the rugrats here. If any of the kids give you trouble, take them over to her. Her name’s Bronya.”

“She’s in charge of them?”

“She’s planning to become an elementary teacher, so she helps out every chance she can for the experience.” Karkat seems to think for a minute as he sets out a plate of large cookies from the unsorted pile of cakes and treats that sit on the table next to you. “There’s one kid, Wanshi? She’s probably going to try and sneak off at some point.”

“Sneak off…” You look at the group. “Which one’s that?”

Karkat peers at the group and then around. “Well, her parents are over there – see that couple talking to Mrs Sanderson?”

“Yeah.”

“So, Wanshi’s already made her escape.” Karkat puts some money in the cookie tin on your table and picks up one of the cookies. “Luckily for me, she’s predictable.”

* * *

You find yourself inside the church, out of the sun and wandering through the relatively empty building, following Karkat as he heads towards one of the pews with a purpose.

Sitting on the floor of it, curled up with a Warrior Cats book, is a little girl who can’t be more than eleven. Her eyes flick back and forth and she looks excessively grumpy, even though she’s reading.

“Wanshi?” Karkat says, quietly.

“Reading,” she says.

“I know you’re reading, but why aren’t you out with Bronya?”

“Because it’s boring. I want to read.”

Karkat draws back from her and takes you to the side so Wanshi can’t hear you. He looks both frustrated and sympathetic.

“She’s...Okay, Wanshi is a big fan of Nepeta, okay?” He waits for you to nod, and continues. “She was really looking forward to going to a convention this summer, and Nepeta and Meulin were willing to take her if her parents were okay with it, but her parents think she’s too young and told her she couldn’t go. She was pretty devastated.”

A puzzle piece clicks into place. Karkat actually cares about this kid, and not in a general way. He and Nepeta are, after all, kind of friends, and you’re sure that Nepeta probably told him that.

“Wanshi was really looking forward to it,” he says, again.

“Well...she could always come sit under our table if she wants to read, right? Then we know where she is and she’s outside, and she doesn’t have to be bored.”

Karkat seems to consider it, but he still looks worried.

He looks cute when he’s thinking, you realise, and try not to focus on that too much.

“Bronya might not like it,” he says, finally.

“Well, Bronya let her wander off,” you counter. “Besides, the kid’s having to hide in a church reading Warrior Cats, the least we can do is make sure she’s hydrated and shit.”

“Dave!” he hisses, smacking you in the arm.

“What?”

“If I don’t get to swear in church, you don’t,” he says, grimly.

You frown, about to correct him, before realising that since you stepped inside the building, Karkat actually hasn’t sworn once. It’s weird, and you’re not altogether sure you like it. He notices your face and reaches out to squeeze your hand, interlocking your fingers briefly.

You both turn a bit red.

“Is Dave your boyfriend?” a little voice asks, in an interested tone.

“Wanshi!” Karkat hisses, quietly, but you look around to see her looking at you, full of curiosity.

“Yes, Karkat’s my boyfriend,” you tell her. She smiles, and then looks at Karkat, who’s looking at you with an expression that’s half happiness, half infuriated frustration.

“Is that a cookie?”

“Yes!” Karkat holds it out. “It’s a cookie, and Dave is my boyfriend.”

“Wait, it’s for me?” Wanshi asks, innocently, and you get a sneaking suspicion that this isn’t the first time that Karkat has brought her a cookie to lure her out.

“Hey, babe? How often does she hide here during a bake sale?” you ask, just as innocently.

“Pretty much every time, why?” Karkat asks.

“And other events?”

“Under tables, mostly. Wanshi, do you want to come sit at our table today?” Karkat asks her. She nods, but looks at you with slightly narrowed eyes. You’re pretty sure you just rumbled a scheme, and you’re pretty sure that Karkat has been continuously scammed by this kid.

“Hey, Karkat, can you grab Wanshi a drink?” you ask, like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “I can walk her to our table.”

“Yeah, sure, if you’re okay by yourself.”

“I’m a big boy,” you tell him. “But I’ll be alright, don’t sweat it.”

You wait until he walks away, and Wanshi immediately grabs onto your sleeve with her free hand, the other clutching her Warrior Cats book like it’s a salvation.

“Am I in trouble?” she asks you, frantically.

“Why would you be in trouble?” you ask her, trying to keep a straight face.

“You know!” She tugs your sleeve again. “You know I hide in here so Karkat comes and finds me!”

“Oh, I thought you hid in here for the cookies you get,” you say, as though you’re thinking aloud. “I musta been wrong.”

“I—” She turns red. “Are...are you going to tell him?”

You finally laugh, shaking your head. “No, I’m not going to tell him, Wanshi. I think it’s hilarious. Besides, it means at least one cookie gets sold, right?”

“Right…” She still looks a bit uncertain, and you offer her your pinkie.

“Listen, I promise I won’t tell him, okay? But you should tell Nepeta when she gets back.”

She links her pinkie with yours, and then takes your hand with a trust you hadn’t expected.

“You’re not allowed to tell him, then,” she says, confidently. “Because then you’d break your promise.”

“It’s a deal," you agree, still trying not to laugh.

Chapter Text

The next day, it's Sunday. Your family isn't exactly a churchgoing one, and you don't exactly have a lot to do, so you decided to maybe have a go at creating a new character.

It's a lot to let go of the cleric entirely, to know that you can never play her again. For a while, it's like she was in stasis, or waiting like a doll to be picked up again, but you carefully fold the sheet and pull a box out from under your bed. She was always really meant to be in this box, anyway.

The box is full of keychains, folded notes, and photos of you, Terezi, Vriska, and Tavros. Once you became a group of friends , it was a short-lived paradise, and you remember it all so vividly. Back then, you know you were a lot more energetic, and in reality you were a different person.

That's who the cleric really belongs to. The person you were, not the person you are.

You fold the character sheet gently, and place it carefully into the box among the notes in Vriska's handwriting, among the little keychains you'd all gotten from the machine outside the supermarket while you were picking up snacks. You kind of feel sorry for those happy kids who didn't know what hit them, even Vriska, because you know how desperately you and Tavros both needed to find people you belonged with, and the way Vriska and Terezi sought you out makes you think that they needed that too. You can't exactly forgive Vriska after what happened, but you do feel sorry for that version of her you used to know.

You don't know her now, and you don't think she can ever know you, either.

Putting the lid back on the box, you look up at the poster on your wall, looking at the direct stares of the Dresden Dolls. You're not a stranger to moving on from things, but you also know that sometimes, it takes time to do things, and this last puzzle piece has been a long time coming. You're finally ready to play again, even though a slight part of you is worried that Tavros will never want to play with you again.

But even if he doesn't, there's a lot of people to play Dungeons and Dragons with.

You take the Player's Handbook off your bedside table where you left it last night, and sit on your bed, flipping through your options. You've never been a bard, and being a druid was always more Tavros' thing. And, quite frankly, you're done being a healer. You flip forward and have a second look at one of the things that caught your eye before.

"Eldritch Knight." You say it out loud, thinking it over. Well, it's not the worst idea, and fighters are a pretty solid if not very exciting class. You could really experiment a bit with the idea of a fighter. You pull out one of your current notebooks from your bag, and start drafting ideas of a backstory, losing yourself in the work, not minding your surroundings even when the angry music starts up again from below you. Under your pen, you find the idea of a character coming to life.

A dwarf this time around, you think, because while tieflings are fun to play you find the idea of a hardy, world-weary dwarf fighter somewhat tempting. Her backstory sits in draft form a few hours later, and you immediately feel a smile grow on your face. You almost want to tell Tavros, but the wall of awkwardness between you that's sprung up around Dungeons and Dragons makes you a little hesitant to do so. But here she is , with a name plucked straight from the online guide you're also referencing, and if you put in a little work she'd be ready to play. With a character sheet drawn up, and if you had a campaign to play in, you could throw yourself into playing this character.

You almost want to say hello . But really, it's hello again.

This is a side of yourself you've sorely missed, a side that you packed away with all the other pieces of your friendship with Terezi and Vriska. You want to cry, almost, but instead you place the notebook and handbook on your bedside table and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that everything's okay. That you just made a character for the first time in ages, and you don't have to cry, you just have to let yourself be happy.

You don't need certain people to enjoy your hobby, and you didn't need to pick it up again until you were ready, but you also can love it again. You're capable of that, and you've just proved it.

The loud music from below thumps relentlessly, and you wince. Has it been that loud this entire time? You seriously hope not, or you're going to have a headache, but then you hear loud banging on what you assume is Damara's door from your mother yelling at her with each thump. You don't listen, but feel elated, and decide that you can probably tell Rose even if you can't tell Tavros. You quickly pull her up on Discord.

apocalypseArisen: hey r0se guess what

apocalypseArisen: actually im just g0ing t0 tell y0u

apocalypseArisen: i started planning 0ut a new dunge0ns and drag0ns character

tentacleTherapist: Are you preparing for a campaign?

apocalypseArisen: actually this is the first time since everything happened with vriska and all that stuff that ive even g0ne near my b00ks

tentacleTherapist: Then that's an excellent step. I must commend you on it.

tentacleTherapist: I must remind you, however, I'm not a licensed therapist.

apocalypseArisen: i kn0w

apocalypseArisen: th0ugh if y0u were id get equius t0 talk t0 y0u and n0t me

tentacleTherapist: Do you need to bitch at me about him?

It's a genuine question, which you appreciate, because you and Rose have a little system set up so that if you say yes, she'll let you vent, and if you say no, she won't ask more questions.

apocalypseArisen: 0nly a bit because hes still blaming damara f0r everything when he sh0uld be keeping an eye 0n rufi0h

apocalypseArisen: well actually its n0t my business anym0re and its n0t his either s0 he needs t0 st0p messaging me ab0ut it but thats 0ld news

tentacleTherapist: So, a minor bitching was required.

apocalypseArisen: yes a min0r bitching

apocalypseArisen: but im pretty excited because its been s0 l0ng since i c0uld bear t0 even l00k at my 0ld stuff and n0w im kind 0f desperate t0 j0in a new campaign t0 use my new character

tentacleTherapist: Well, I'm free Monday, I'd quite like to come have a look over your books if you'd have me. I'd like to see this character that has you so happy and excited.

tentacleTherapist: I never quite got into the game the same way that you and the others did, but I'm intrigued enough that I wouldn't mind having a look and seeing if a class would suit me.

tentacleTherapist: Plus, recently I've been watching a lot of videos on Youtube and I'm afraid I might have fallen victim to watching the wonderful ways of Matt Mercer.

apocalypseArisen: r0se i think y0ud be a terrifying gm and wed die a l0t but i mean that as a compliment

tentacleTherapist: I intend to take it as one.

Chapter Text

Of all people you were prepared to see when you came home from church with your family, it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination going to be Cronus Ampora.

He's not smoking, for once, and you're at least...grateful for that, you suppose, because you can't fucking stand the cigarette smoke smell that used to exude from him when he actually used to be here, but as his eyes land on Kankri and light up, you realise exactly what's happening and your stomach drops like an anchor.

"Fuck me sideways," you say, under your breath. Dave's insisted on walking you home, and he frowns, not seeming to understand what's going on. You wait for him to recognise who it is, but then it catches up to you - Dave never met Eridan or his family, and he definitely never met the John Travolta wannabe that's standing on your doorstep. You instead look at your dad, who looks like nothing's wrong, and at Kankri, who's got the shyest smile on his face.

Great, your dad knows nothing and your brother's acting like a Regency debutante. Just fucking great.

"Great to see you, Kanny," Cronus says, by way of greeting. "Sorry I didn't bring any flowers." There's a slight hint of how he used to pronounce that letter, but it's faded with time. You don't really want to know what's going on, but you watch it anyway like some sort of horrific car crash.

"So...that's Kankri's boyfriend? I guess I should have guessed he'd be the bad boy type." Dave looks like he's hiding a smile, but then looks at you. "Hey, Karkat. Is something wrong?"

You squeeze his hand, but you can't find the words. Luckily or unluckily, Kankri gets there before you, clearing his throat nervously and adjusting the hem of his sweater like doing that will magically give him a way out of this situation.

"Father, Karkat...I'm sure you both remember Cronus Ampora?"

"Ampora?" Dave says, eyes going wide. Okay, scratch that, maybe he does know Eridan. You guess people still bitch about the guy, and this is a small town.

"Woah, who's this?" Cronus asks, frowning.

"This is Dave. My boyfriend." You step in front of Dave a bit, not being able to help it. Cronus wasn't exactly the nicest guy the last time you saw him, and you definitely have not warmed up to him.

To put it bluntly, he was an asshole and he was even an asshole to his younger brother, but for some reason he's acting way more laid back.

"Hey, don't sweat it." He smiles at you. "I know I haven't been here in a while, but..."

"Cronus and I ended up at the same university." Kankri shoots you a look. "I think we ought to go inside. We shouldn't keep a guest outside."

Your father turns to Dave. "Ah, yes. Would you like to join us as well, David? I should like to thank you for your help today. Wanshi's parents told me you kept her out of trouble all day."

"I couldn't have done it without Karkat," Dave says, with a smile, and you try to fight the warm fuzzies and fail. Still, eventually, you all make it inside of the house, leaving you, Dave, and Cronus in the living room while Kankri and your dad sort dinner in the kitchen.

Seriously. Fuck you sideways.

"So..." Cronus clears his throat. "It's good to be back."

"Sure." You fix him with narrowed eyes, and he laughs.

"Yep, you haven't changed a bit. That's the Karkat Vantas I remember, sure enough. You know, you really don't need to be--"

"Don't tell me that." You glare at him this time. "I remember how you used to be too, I'm just not going to say all that shit in front of Kankri."

"Kid. You don't have to tell me I was an asshole. I know."

Now, that's unexpected. It takes all the wind out of your rapidly planned subtle threats, leaving you without much of anything to say. Dave looks between the two of you, uncertain, and Cronus looks to him with a bit of sympathy.

"Truth is, kid, when Karkat here last saw me, I wasn't the nicest person to him, his brother, or my own kid brother." His voice softens a little on that last part. "In fact, people really didn't like me or Eridan, and I wasn't the nicest guy around even if I thought I was. I was a dick, and if I'd come back here the same guy, Karkat would probably be justified in whatever he's doing."

You feel a little bit like he's being condescending, but he carries on.

"But I know that Vantas here loves a good romantic story, so here goes. I'm not proud that it took me going to university to actually feel I could come out of my shell, but that's indeed what it took. I'm not one for labels, and I've always tried to be someone else, but at university, when you're away from family, it's easier to be yourself. Without my parents around, it was a lot easier to be...more chill, more relaxed."

"What he's trying to say is his parents are assholes." You look at Dave, and see he's relaxing. Shit, you made him uncomfortable with your hatred of Cronus Ampora.

"So...you and Kankri..."

"Well, we kinda happened over study sessions and coffee. He was the only guy I knew from before who went to the same uni, and I was so happy to see him that we ended up kind of...starting all over again. And he helped me with a lot of shit, and we've been good friends, and then something even better. He's smart, thoughtful, and I really like him. I already know that if I ever broke his heart I'd be headed straight to hell."

Cronus looks at you as he says this, and then sighs.

"Believe me. The whole...Eridan thing, it was a lot for all of us."

"You mean him going to Ireland?" you say, quietly. It had been a big thing for everyone to process - Eridan's mother had split the siblings up, whisking her youngest back to her own family, and leaving Cronus and his father behind like the scraps of her divorce.

Cronus' face darkens a moment.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, kid," he says, unexpectedly, before standing up and going into the kitchen, wiping a tear from his eye.

Well, that was weird.

However, what's weirder is the discussion that then happens in the kitchen, and your father dropping one of the plates straight onto the kitchen floor. It shatters into bits and Cronus yelps as a bit catches him (on the ankle, you find out later, when Kankri is doing first aid and apologising over and over) and eventually, dinner preparations are forgotten. Dave is asked gently by your father to head home, again with the offer of a lift from Kankri, and he accepts, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he leaves.

Things are officially weird, but you found yourself sat down with your father next to you, and Cronus looking like he'd rather throw up than talk.

"Karkat, I figured that Kankri might have...talked about it, but he thought that it wasn't his place to tell you. Maybe he's right, because I only ever gave him the run down, so that's...kinda on me. But fuck. Fuck."

Your dad doesn't tell him off for swearing and you're confused as all hell, but Cronus gets to the point pretty quickly.

"Eridan's been missin' for about four years."

You stare at him.

"No." You say it slowly. "No, he went back home with your mom, that's not--"

"Karkat, I'm sorry. Da's been in therapy since it happened, and Mom's been livin' with her new husband for the last three. I've got a little half-sister from her, but she doesn't want to see me or Da ever again. She dumped Eridan on her parents, our grandparents, the second that she got to Ireland, and then she left." Cronus swallows. "I'm not...I don't know what happened too much, but there's a lake near their house that Eridan loved, and they've...looked there a couple of times, but nothin'. Danny's..."

He broke off.

Your head is swirling, and your dad suddenly holds you close. You find you're howling with tears at this news, for a guy you wrote off as an asshole, a guy who was always uptight, dorky, but above everything a little hopeful and your friend . You see the thirteen-year-old Eridan dead in your mind's eye, and through your tears you see Cronus, as still as a statue.

"I'm-- I'm s-sorry I w-was s-s-s-such a dick to you!" you howl, and he comes to your other side and gives you a fierce hug as well, which you allow.

"Don't you fuckin' say sorry to me, Karkat, you were one of his best friends." Cronus sounds like he's made of stone, too. "I'm sorry, there was just no way to tell you before now. He's...it's going to be a couple more years until they make the decision, but I just..."

You finally gain control of yourself, and Cronus lets go abruptly, shuffling away from you on the sofa. You're still reeling, still trying not to think of the idea of Eridan drowning.

"They didn't find his body." Cronus says it tightly. "Not in the lake, not in the woods. I know it's stupid, but part of me..."

"It's usual when someone you love goes missing. Some people never stop hoping for..." Your father hesitates. "For their safety," he amends. "There are people in our own church who have lost people, and while some people think that hope is something they shouldn't have, I think that as long as it is not harming the person, wishing for the safety of the person you love isn't so terrible a thing."

Cronus smiles, tired and red-eyed. "Thanks, Mr Vantas. I forgot you're like that."

"I'm sorry to hear about how your mother acted, too. I'm sure it took a great toll on her to hear it."

"I don't think...I don't think I want to think about how she feels these days." Cronus looks down. "I can't blame her for this, but I can blame her for takin' him out of spite in the first place. She didn't love either of us. She just wanted to be the perfect rich man's wife, and we sure as shit suffered because of her."

You try to remember Eridan's mother, but all you can remember is the idea of a distant woman with blond hair and a cold voice. You're honestly on Cronus' side as you say this.

"Plus, she was never really...stable." Cronus slumps. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner."

"You didn't," you and your dad say, in unison, before your dad pats Cronus on the back, reaching over you to do so.

"Never feel that your feelings need to take a back seat, Cronus. I appreciate you having the strength to tell us this, even if the evening went in a different direction, but the best laid plans..."

"Of mice and men." Cronus finishes the sentence a little, and then smiles. "Do you think I could be allowed in Kankri's room? I'm kind of...tired out."

You dad agrees, and you watch as Cronus walks down the hallway, and your dad pulls you into another hug.

You hadn't even realised you were shaking.

Chapter Text

“My sister saw Dave and Karkat at church yesterday,” Vriska says, her tone lighter than usual.

You look up from the Player’s Handbook she’s been having you study to make sure you have the rules right. Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t ever really your thing, and you’re not sure how this is going to work, but she’s insisting it will be fun and that she knows a couple of people, so you’re trying your best.

But now, your focus is gone.

“She did?” you ask, lightly.

“Yeah. She said that they were helping out at the bake sale, but have you ever known Dave Strider to go to church?” She snorts, and then rolls her eyes. “Like, imagine, Dave Strider being as much of a choirboy as Karkat Vantas.”

You know that she knows that Karkat’s family is with the church to some degree, but you don’t bring it up. The idea of Karkat as a choirboy isn’t as hilarious as she makes it sound, but what could make Dave want to go to church? You don’t have to wait long for Vriska to solve that mystery for you.

“You know, she said it looked like they were holding hands just before she left.” She hesitates, which is rare for her, but your mind screeches to a halt.

She does keep talking, while you stare at her, book forgotten.

“Well, she said it looked like that, but it was kind of far away. I mean, they didn’t tell you anything yet, right? God, isn’t it going to be so weird for Terezi if they date?” Her voice is light as she continues, but she’s waiting for you to respond.

“They actually…”

“It’s church gossip from my sister, not the local news.”

But you both know that’s not true. Aranea’s not a gossip as much as she is practically a reporter, and her word (lengthy and boring as it must have been) can usually be trusted, unless it comes to Damara or Porrim. You swallow, hard.

“I mean, even if they’re fucking dating, it’s not like you didn’t see this coming, right?” Vriska asks, gently. “You told me Karkat liked Dave.”

“I didn’t want him to!” you burst out. “I didn’t want anything to change, I wanted them both right where they were!”

Vriska’s gaze softens and she stands up, crossing over to the bed where you’re sitting, and wrapping her arm around your shoulders, giving you an awkward hug. You know she’s not as used to this as you are, but you can sense that she’s trying her best here. You feel bad, because for a moment you wish you had Karkat and Dave on either side.

“People suck,” Vriska says, roughly. “You know, they just...I mean, Karkat was being an asshole anyway, right?”

You don’t say anything, but you do lean into her. She’s not really built for hugs, and it’s a bit awkward, but you do feel better by a small margin. You’d really, honestly tried to mend bridges with Karkat, and you’d tried to get along a little bit more. You’d tried to help Rose be friends with Vriska, only to be rejected, and even though you know what you’re asking, you were hoping she’d do it for your friendship at least. Building a new friendship group in a town like this is almost impossible, but Vriska’s been talking to someone recently she assures you you’d like.

“He’s the best,” she’s told you, tossing her hair. “He’s like, a year or two above us but he’s interested in joining a tabletop game, and I think he’d be good for you, pry you out of that comfort zone.”

You sit up.

“Hey, Vriska, is that friend of yours free?” you ask.

“Oh, him? Probably not. He’s always at these wild parties this time of night anyway. You know, last time, one of the church girls came and dragged him out? It was such a scene, and he said it was just after he’d dumped this clingy whiner.” She laughs a little, looking down at you. “Like I said, wild. I asked him if he knew Damara, and he just rolled his eyes. He won’t tell me.”

You try to digest this information, and then sigh.

“So, he’s really into the idea of a tabletop game with us?”

“Yeah, us and this friend he said he’d bring. She’s pretty uppity, but he says she’s into all that kind of thing. You’re actually going to play with us then?”

“I think it’d be a start. I mean, clearly, my friends aren’t what they used to be if they don’t even tell me this kind of st-- shit.” You correct yourself last minute, but Vriska is already giddy.

“Oh, man! That’s a full party, baby! I can’t wait to help build your character, and oh my god, you’re going to love it. You’re going to love it, I swear!” She hops off the bed and does a little dance that involves punching the air and wiggling her hips. This more excitable side of Vriska is probably your favourite side of her.

“I mean, I can borrow dice, right?” you ask, but she shakes her head.

“No, my precious little padawan, you are going to come with your favourite Game Master and we’re going to buy you your very first set of dice so when Lynera and Lanque come to the table, we’re ready for them! Oh, my god, yes. This is going to be so fucking good!” She does the little hip wiggle again.

“Lynera?”

“Oh, that’s his friend. He says she can be a bit of a bitch, but she’s alright, and honestly, that’s the kind of energy I want in my life. Like, if you’re going to be a bitch, at least own up to it from the start?”

You feel a little more worried now about having said yes, but Vriska is too busy sweeping around the room in delight, and you kind of feel like it would be mean to stop her now. Besides, she’ll be there, and you know you can count on her.

“It’ll be so much fun, seriously. Lanque is so seriously cool, and I’m sure Lynera will be too, and you’re going to have so much fun with this game! I promise that I’ll make it fun for you!” She turns around, looking at you earnestly. “I’m serious. I’ve been planning my next campaign ever since the last one ended, and there’s been tons of expansions since then. I’ve got NPCs, quests...I’m a really good Game Master. I mean, Pyrope is alright…”

She begins rifling through her desk, pulling out different things. V riska’s desk is organised her way, a calculated mess. She has a drawer full of dice, and random things from all her different hobbies, but it never takes her too long to find anything.

“But she doesn’t push her players to be the best. Back when we were playing with Megido and Nitram, it was stop and smell the fucking roses all the fucking time. Like, I want to get to the caves before I reach the age of eighty? Too bad, because Nitram wants to help out the CR4 whatever-it-was when we should have just put the damn thing out of its misery. Seriously, Terezi’s setup is great, but she was way too soft with those two. I mean, I’ll ease you into your first campaign, but they were playing long before that, and it wasn’t fair to me to make me wait around for my arc.”

You get a nervous feeling in your stomach. You’re not entirely sure about whether what she’s saying makes sense, so instead, you scoot back, picking up the book again. Stopping to smell the roses is what you used to be about, and when you played games with your friends (though, again, not Dungeons and Dragons) you did like to side quest a lot. But it sounds like Vriska isn’t into that at all.

You make a mental note to avoid any potential side questing. You don’t really want to upset Vriska when it’s her campaign, and she’s being nice enough to teach you how to play, after all. Plus, if you’re being honest with yourself, she’s kind of your only solid friend right now (discounting Jade, who’s nice to everyone. )

It doesn’t quite hurt, but it doesn’t feel right. Still, you squash that feeling as much as you can. It’s her campaign to run, not yours.

Chapter Text

Yesterday was full of ups and downs, and while you’ve been trying to message Karkat, he’s been offline for a while. You know better than to invade his personal space, but you’re still worried about him, and end up pushing the scrambled eggs Roxy makes you around your plate.

“Hey, Dave, if you’re not going to eat…” she starts, before shaking her head. “Is everything okay?”

You adore your big sister more than she knows, but you just sigh. Dirk’s in charge of Eridan today, but he’s been a bit out of it, skipping breakfast and working on something downstairs. He also wrote ‘House Meeting, 5pm’ in big letters on the whiteboard in the kitchen, so you’re guessing he’s got something to say.

“Yeah, it’s just Karkat,” you say.

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, in that ‘tell-me-more’ voice. You almost don’t, knowing she’ll leave it, but you end up opening up.

“Well, uh, we’re dating, sort of, but it’s really new, and then something weird happened last night at his house and I had to leave, and now he’s not answering his phone?” You run a hand through your hair, taking your sunglasses off and wincing in the sunlight. “I dunno, Rox, I just…I don’t want this to go wrong, but I’m worried.”

She looks at you for a moment, then crosses over to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You’ve no idea how Roxy turned out like this, but according to Dirk, she’s like the best moments of your mother, who thanks to the bullshit your parents pulled, you’ve never properly met. Rose said that was for the best, but sometimes, when Roxy acts like this, you wonder, because…

Well, to be quite honest, you’re sure it would have been better than ‘Bro’. Someone like your mother would surely have been better than someone like him.

Roxy snaps you back to the present.

“Lil’ dude, you good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just…”

You find you’ve hunched up slightly, and she bites her lip for a moment before taking the plate.

“Hey, don’t worry about this, Davey. You want to talk?”

You hate that you’re easier to read, now, although logically you know it’s progress. You used to be a shut book, because that’s how you were raised, and to the people outside your family, you still are, sort of. They know how to make you laugh, and they know some bits and pieces, but you try to keep your emotions off your face even now, but your older siblings especially know you very well, because they’ve been around both parents, something you’ll never be.

Roxy knows why you’re reacting like this, and she leads you gently into the living room, sitting you down. She’s not your therapist, by any means, but you do sometimes want to cling to her, and yet you’re seventeen and still feel awkward sometimes.

“I…” You feel stuck, like the words are glued to your throat. “I just...I don’t want this to go wrong, I just don’t. I really care about him, and I just…”

“I get it.” It’s quiet, and she’s not as bubbly. “Me and Dirk, we both do. It’s all about that fucking sword over our heads, right? But even if something happens, it will never, ever be that bad, because we’ve got each other. We always will.”

She’s speaking vaguely, but you understand each other. You couldn’t bear to lose Karkat, because you value those closest to you fiercely. But after everything that happened, you can’t trust that things will go right all the time. You can’t put all of your eggs in one basket just yet, and while you’re so sure Karkat knows this, you’re trying to trust as much as possible, and yet now, not even a full weekend after you guys have been official, something’s happening.

You don’t have all the memories of a relationship to guide you. You have a friendship that was feeling strain before, and you’ve been on a rollercoaster.

“I mean...Dave, you just have to make sure that you’re aware of the sword, but don’t forge it. Does that make sense? It’s early.” She looks at you. “Don’t...expect it so much it happens.”

You look down at your knees.

“What was it like?” you ask.

“What was what like?”

“When they were together?”

Her eyes hold some kind of emotion you can’t really decipher, but she shakes her head. “I mean, I can’t really remember much. I remember this one time though, we were playing outside and they were screaming inside, really yelling, and I was scared. They weren’t good for each other or for us.”

“Well, I know you guys don’t always want to tell me what she was like, but…”

“No, we don’t.” Roxy sighed. “But there were times she wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t a great mom, but sometimes she’d get all excited and she’d sit us down to watch a Disney movie, and she’d sing all the songs with Rose and me, or she’d actually help with our hair in the morning, but she’d always act like that was her all the time. And she’d call us her mini mes, and say she looked like our big sister, and sometimes she’d have us call her our sister if she took us out with her, but that was pretty rare after a while.”

Most of this, you know, but you stay silent anyway.

“It’s a lot, all of this. But we’re dealing with it. We might always be dealing with it, but it’s only part of us, okay?” She hugs you.

“I just...feel left out, sometimes,” you admit. “I’m sorry, I know you guys do what you can, but I just can’t stop it.”

She hugs you tighter, and you hug her back, clutching her a little too hard. You continue talking after you let go.

“I just...my life is different now, and I want it to be different, but…”

It hangs there, the same worry you all share, but she just ruffles your hair.

“Listen, if you worry too much, you’ll just suffer more. Your brain worries to prepare for shit, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she continues. “Well, there’s over-preparing and over-worrying. It’s better to just fucking enjoy yourself, and it’s also a great way to stick it to those fuckers. You deserve so much better than that, we all fuckin’ do.”

“So…” You wait, but she’s just sat there, looking a little drained.

“Sisterly advice?” she asks. “Fuck ‘em. I know you want to know more about Mom, but she was always just as bad as he was. Make your own family, so long as you don’t kick your best big sister out of the picture.”

“I mean, I thought we were doing that anyway. Like, collectively.”

“Oh, we are, but that’s another thing. This shit is about you.” She prods your arm. “Jesus, though, karaoke last night was fuckin’ brutal.”

“Wait, Rox, are you hungover?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Nah, I didn’t drink, I just got in pretty late,” she says, waving her hand. “Chixie’s been having these issues lately so I needed to be her sober friend when she went to this club she’s been having fun at recently. I got in pretty late, though, don’t tell Dirk.”

“What issues?”

“Ah, shit.” She rubs her eyes. “Just this dude who’s been pushy. He’s kind of friends with the club owner, but he’s giving her some creepy vibes, so she’s been using the buddy system because he’s not been too nice to her. But, unless you want to drive a city over, it’s kind of...the only good place for karaoke.”

“Does he work there or something?” you ask.

“Nope.” She pops the end of the word. “I tried to talk to the bar staff, but they were really apologetic. Asshole managers. She should still be able to enjoy herself, like.”

“That fucking sucks.” You know about asshole managers thanks to your friends, though your own manager down at the record shop is pretty nice.

“Apparently, last week, he tried to say he’d get her banned because she didn’t want him to buy her a drink. Said she was assuming shit and harassing him, but he’s just being a tool. Anyways, enough about that, but yeah, I’m not hung over.”

“You should go to bed,” you say, sternly.

She laughs. “Aw, Davey…”

“Please? You’re exhausted, right?”

She relents, getting up, but gives you one last hug before she leaves.

“It’s your sword, okay?” she says, before she goes. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Chapter Text

When Rose arrives, it’s in her usual style of elegance. She’s dressed up somewhat for the occasion in a velvety black dress that makes you think of Hollywood, and thanks to a last minute message from you, she has flowers for your mother that she places on the table wordlessly. Your mother turns around and gives her a tired smile, before turning back to the photo album she’s been flipping through all morning.

According to her, there will still be a funeral, though you don’t yet know if you’re attending, so she’s trying to pick the best photo of your father. You still feel unsure on how to approach this, and Damara left the house sometime in the morning, leaving it too quiet and too still.

“So, you have the books?” Rose asks, as you both make your way up to the attic.

“Yes, and I know I want to be a player this time around, but we need people to join in. I think last time the group was too small.”

There’s so much more you could say more, but you don’t, and Rose just nods.

“Luckily, I already have something of an idea for a campaign, and I think it would be good to focus on roleplay a little. Combat-heavy can be fun, but character development is more up my street. So all I need to do is familiarise myself with the rules, so long as you don’t mind something of a study session.”

“Not at all.” You open the door to your room, letting Rose step in.

She looks around, eyes travelling over the walls quickly.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she says, before sitting down on your bed. More like perching, really, and you pull out the books, handing over the Player’s Handbook for her to look through, feeling that old excitement flicker inside of you.

“Did you talk to Kanaya?” you ask, unable to stop yourself.

“Have you talked to Tavros?” she counters.

There it is. You look down, giving away your answer.

“Things ended on...kind of a bad note, and I think maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me right now. I mean, his brother is my sister’s ex, but my sister is his brother’s ex.” You emphasise the last word. “And then there’s the whole Equius thing.”

Rose makes a sympathetic expression.

“I don’t really want to do a campaign without him, but I don’t know if I can really talk about things with him yet.” The words keep being dragged out by her silence. Rose has always been good at that, but then she rarely judges you, so you keep going. “There’s just been so much going on, and I know he’d have wanted to know about it, but it almost feels like I can’t talk to him after I didn’t. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe you just need a fresh start.” Rose turns a page, keeping her eyes on the book. “If things really are difficult between you, then there’s no shame in having your own space. But I would say that the two of you had a very strong friendship.”

You swallow. That’s something you don’t think you could ever move past – you and Tavros have been friends for years, and you can’t deny that the way things are between you right now hurts, and also feels like it’s your fault. Even if the rational side of you wants to say it isn’t, that it just happened , you still feel guilty and torn up about it.

“Aradia?” Rose says, her voice concerned.

“I’m sorry, I just…” You look down into your lap. “I really just wish I could let him know what’s going on, but I can’t. Coming out of nowhere now would make me a really awful person, wouldn’t it?”

She stands up, and gives you an awkward, one armed hug.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” She sits on the floor, still holding the book. “You know, friendships can be hard sometimes.”

“Scarring, even,” you joke, and she laughs, before opening the book up again.

“Which of these were you thinking of going for?”

After a long discussion about how exactly some things work, and party balances, and ground rules, all while Rose takes extensive notes, she frowns and looks at her phone.

“I don’t want to stop here,” she says. “Do you think your mother would mind if I stayed over? I’ll ring Roxy and let her know.”

“I can go check.” You check the time on your phone, and your eyebrows shoot up at how late it’s gotten already. “Hey, we skipped lunch. Want to order something in, if Mom’s chill?”

“Absolutely.” Rose’s eyes light up. “I’m starving.”

“You should have said something!” You laugh a little, and head towards the stairs. “Back in a minute, alright?”

As you walk down the stairs, you start mentally checking over whether you have pyjamas for Rose. You’re kind of the same size, although you’re a bit taller than her, so she can just borrow something from you. You know there’s a sleeping bag, and you’re sure your mom can help out, and just as you walk to the top of the last flight, you hear a sigh gust past you.

You turn around to look, but there’s nothing there.

Weird , you think, but keep heading downstairs.

“Mom?” you call out.

“Kitchen,” she calls back, where you can hear a knife chopping quickly.

“Is it okay if Rose stays over?”

She pauses, before putting the knife down and turning around. She looks so tired, you realise. You rarely see your mother like this, and you take a step back in shock.

“Aradia?” she asks, in a quiet voice, puzzled by your reaction. You take a few steps forward instead, until you’re in the kitchen and able to give her a gentle hug, avoiding her apron.

“I was just making dinner, actually, but…” She scoops the chopped onion into a tupperware, detaching from your hug and shoving it into the fridge, throwing her apron over a chair. “Your sister hasn’t come home yet, and I don’t know where she is. She won’t pick up her phone after the first time, and then she just told me to stop calling her. I wish I did know where she was, I’d have…” Her fist clenches and then she just sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Chick.”

The baby name makes a lump form in your throat. You have always been chick , or baby bird , while Damara has always been lamb, or lambkin . Your mother said it was your father who called her that, because she was so small as a baby, and then when she cried, it was like a little bleat. You’d tried to tease her about it, but Damara…

You wait for your mother to say something, anything, but eventually you clear your throat.

“Me and Rose were thinking we could order in?”

“Oh, that would be lovely.” Your mother almost sags with relief. “Could you get me my usual while you do?”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry, Mom, she’ll come home.”

Lambkin.

The word is more of a feeling, one so strong that you gasp, and your mother’s eyes go wide as you both stare at each other.

“What was--”

You’re cut off as your mother looks from side to side, before bursting into tears and wrapping her arms around you, holding you close, so tight you almost can’t breathe, before drawing back.

“I heard… I thought I heard…” She hiccups, and you’re struck by how like Damara she looks. You’ve always noticed it, but right now, you’re seeing right into Damara’s future. You step back, and quietly get some tissues, handing them over.

“Aradia, will you ring your sister?” she asks, after a moment. “I just need her to get home safely.”

As you open your mother to do so, there’s a knock on the door, and your mother rushes over, only for someone you haven’t seen in years to be stood there, with what you’re damn sure is the same motorbike jacket he was wearing the last time you saw him. Leaning on his shoulder is your sister, completely and utterly drunk.

“Thank fuck you still live here,” Cronus Ampora says, tightly. “I’m sorry, Mrs Megido--”

“Damara!” Your mother rushes to take her from him, while your sister tries to slap her away.

“You brought her home.” You look at him. He looks older, sure, but he’s not really changed that much.

“Hey, Aradia. Long time no see.” He looks grim. “What happened this time? I found her in this sketchy shithole.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Well, there’s a guy who drinks there who owns the mechanic shop, I meant to go see him about this noise my machine’s been making. He said if I buy him a beer, he’ll look at it, so I went to the bar, and there was your sister.” He gestures to her, as your mother walks her upstairs.

“We were about to order takeaway?” you offer, awkwardly. He laughs a little, but shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m...staying with a friend. I think I need to go back there before too long, but I had to hand my bike over to the guy there and walk back with her. She’s, uh, thrown up a bit, but I think your mom’s got this.”

You hope Rose hasn’t been waiting too long, but you’re a bit flummoxed to see this guy again. Cronus left town a while back, and while he’s a high school friend of your sister, you can’t help but wonder why he’s back. Literally nothing was left behind for the Amporas.

“So...um…” He hesitates, and you suddenly remember the dream of Eridan, floating in the lake. The dream where your father pulled you away.

This is weirder than weird. You stare at him, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“I think...you guys got this covered?” he says, after a minute. You blink at him for a minute, before snapping back to reality.

“Oh. Yes.” You clear your throat. “Yes, we have.”

“Good. I’ll, um. See if there’s a bus or anything.”

“Not often, this late.” You give him a sympathetic look.

“Well, guess I’m walking. Catch you around, maybe?” He gives you this strange look, something between regret and relief, and turns around, walking down the street, but you don’t end up closing the door until he’s half the street away.

Chapter Text

You sit nervously in the little coffee shop that Vriska dragged you into. You don’t even really like coffee, but you have your fruit cooler and you’re sipping it while Vriska pretends to be bored. For you, the effect doesn’t work, as you saw how long it took her to get ready, but you instead scan the shop, looking around for anyone who’s even remotely like the people she told you about.

You’re nervous about meeting people outside your own friend group, it has to be said, but Vriska’s been insisting it’s fine. That she’ll handle the talking, and you can just sit there with your discount Berry Blast, or ‘whatever’. You felt guilty when she said that, but also a little relieved.

As you’re mulling over whether to go get a muffin from the counter, two people walk in, one heading confidently towards you and the other trailing in his wake, arms folded. You look up to see a confident, almost preppy guy sit down at your table, and the girl he’s with hesitates before sitting down at the spare chair.

“Lanque, hey,” Vriska says, breezily. “This is my friend, the one I told you about?”

His eyebrows raise, and he offers a hand for you to shake. You blink for a minute before putting your cooler down and doing so. The girl next to him snorts.

“What are you, fifteen?” She leans back in her chair, and Vriska’s eyes harden for a minute, her mouth opening, but Lanque gets there first.

“Lynera, if you want to vent your frustration, I suggest you do it elsewhere.” He smiles at you. “Vriska tells me you’re both still in high school?”

Lynera’s cheeks flush, and you look between them for a minute before taking your hand back.

“Uh, yeah. We’re in the same class...um...Lanque?”

“So, summer holidays. Lucky you. Poor Lynera’s cloistered away in the library, and I’m doing every shift I’m given at the moment.”

“I’m getting us drinks,” Lynera says abruptly, standing up and heading over to the counter, while Lanque rolls his eyes.

“Sorry about that. She’ll warm up to you in time, but she can be a bit thorny.” He smiles, like it’s funny, and Vriska does too. It makes you feel awkward, but you don’t smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry, you gave us the heads up about her being a bit bitchy,” Vriska says, breezily. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I look forward to seeing the sort of campaign I’ll be in. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to stretch my legs in a campaign, but then, that’s just how things go some time. It was really unfortunate, actually, but my last campaign fell apart over a disagreement. I’ve been looking for a new one ever since, so I was rather happy that you were looking for players.”

“For sure. I mean, same thing here, you know?” Vriska rolls her eyes.

You look at her, but you remain silent, sipping your cooler. As you watch, Lynera checks her phone, and for a moment her face looks openly upset, before she stomps back over with two drinks.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, despite yourself.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She rolls her eyes, like you’re being weird.

“Lynera just has resting bitch face,” Lanque says, giving her a friendly smile.

Vriska snorts, and Lynera looks hurt, but then she turns to you.

“Yeah. I just have one of those faces.”

You almost wonder if you made a mistake, but after a few minutes of Lanque and Vriska talking about the campaign, Lynera pulls out her phone, swiping down on it multiple times before typing away. Clearly she’s upset about something, but maybe you shouldn’t have asked so early into meeting her.

After a little while, she shoves her phone into the bag.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces, and Lanque rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like you have to ask permission,” he grumbles, waving a hand. She shoots him a look, and stomps off.

“What’s that all about?” Vriska asks, suddenly curious.

“Oh, she’s just being Lynera.” He leans forward. “Now, tell me more about this drow city you’ve been building up. It sounds awesome.”

“No spoilers!” Vriska grins at him. “But it is.”

Once everyone’s swapped contact info and you’ve all been unceremoniously been dumped into a group chat, you and Vriska start walking back to her house.

“God, that was the best! Isn’t Lanque cool?”

You’re grateful she doesn’t wait for your reply before she skips ahead with excitement.

“I can’t believe he actually wants to play in my campaign,” she admits. “I mean, I know I’m good, but he’s pretty cool, you know? Plus, a lot of people would just think I’m a stupid kid.”

“What about Lynera?” you ask.

“Boring, basic, bitchy.” She counts to three on her fingers as she talks. “But hey, if she’s willing to play…”

“She seems kinda mean.”

Vriska wrinkles her nose up at you, and you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have said that. However, she slings her arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, listen, Egbert. Lynera wants to play, you want to play, so maybe try to get along with her? I’m sure that she’s not that bad deep down, and it’s not like she’ll be on her phone or in the bathroom at sessions. Plus, from what Lanque told me, she’s just having a rough time at the minute.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Just to go easy on her because of some personal shit. It’s no big deal, but just try your chirpy little best, okay? I mean, it’s not like she was even that rude.”

You don’t know if you agree with that, but Vriska is so excited you’d feel bad if you argued the point with her. You get that feeling a lot, honestly, where Vriska is happy and you find you don’t want to burst her bubble, but then you’re not sure where to go from there.

In all honesty, while Vriska’s gushing about how ‘cool’ Lanque is, you’re not sure you feel the same way. He was kind of rude to Lynera, even if she was rude to you, and there’s just something that makes you feel like he doesn’t really care about her. And even if you’ve just met her, it was obvious from the way she was acting that she was upset, even if Vriska and Lanque both blew her off.

But then again, you’ve just met her, and Lanque clearly knows her better, so if you said anything you’d feel like you were overstepping. You keep following Vriska, thinking it over.

Things really have gotten so much harder recently. This sort of stuff would be so much easier if you had Dave and Karkat to lean on, but the two of them, Karkat in particular, kind of made that impossible. Plus, Karkat hates Vriska, and so does Rose, who you tried to reach out to only to be shut down. You’re still feeling the sting of that interaction, though you’ve tried to put it out of your mind for the sake of the meetup. Rose has been one of your closest friends since you can remember, but ever since you and Vriska started hanging out, she’s shut herself off from you.

Vriska leads you inside the house, and you both stop when you hear arguing. Her mother and sister are fighting about something, and Vriska hurriedly pushes you up the stairs, both of you rushing to the bedroom.

“Vriska? Are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m busy, Mom!” she yells back, and then slams her bedroom door.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, gingerly.

“Aranea wants to move out and go somewhere,” she says, in an offhand manner. “Says she wants to go move to the city with Meenah. Mom says she doesn’t have a job there, and Aranea says she’s twenty one, blah blah, rinse and repeat. I think Mom just doesn’t want to be stuck here without Aranea helping out.”

“What about you?”

“Do I look like I care about it?” she snaps, suddenly. “Geez, what’s with you? You’ve been in this mood all day, and you barely even talked to the cool people I found for us to play with! I mean, seriously, I go to all that trouble and you weren’t even doing anything besides asking Lynera if she was upset out of fucking nowhere.” She turns her back on you. “But whatever.”

You feel a sharp stab of guilt at the way she’s echoing all your own feelings. She’s right – you barely spoke to Lanque, and you were out of line with Lynera.

“Vriska…”

“I just...I want this campaign to work out,” she says, turning back around to you. “So, you know, if you could maybe not do that again, that would be great, thanks.”

“I just...I thought she seemed upset.”

“Yeah, maybe, but she’s a big girl! She can handle it! Besides, you two only just met. She probably doesn’t want you all up in her business. Anyway, let’s just...forget about it and talk character. I mean, you were thinking of being a paladin, right?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d help me.”

The frown starts to melt off her face. “Of course I’ll help you! What else are friends for?”

Well, at least you have one friend in this town.

Chapter Text

Between yourself and Aradia, you’ve figured out that it would be best for you to be the Dungeon Master, as while you have loved looking at all the different classes, you could see that Aradia needed more space for her love of the game. Besides which, you’re good at creating stories and thinking up good twists and turns. You’re already thinking up a good one as it is.

Aradia loaned you her copy of the Big Three – the Player’s Handbook, The Monster Manual, and the Dungeon Master’s Guide – before you left. She mentioned that it was a good idea to try and match the CR rating to the player level for encounters, and that playtesting was also a good idea. You’ve been noting it all down, and started pulling together an idea of the sort of campaign you’d like to run.

Your group so far is looking like it might be Aradia and Kanaya, but not Tavros. Things between him and Aradia are clearly still unresolved, and with their families in the mess they are, you can’t lay any blame at Aradia’s door for hesitating to take the first step. However, you wonder if your older sister might be interested, as much of a leap as that might be, and you’d certainly be happy to extend an offer to Jade, too.

“Roxy, Jade, Aradia, Kanaya…” You count off on your fingers as you walk down the sidewalk. It’s a good number, and you think they’ve all got enough free time at the moment to oblige you. Kanaya knows enough about the game already from previous interactions, Jade picks up rules easily, and Roxy is older than you and into anything that involves wizards. It feels a little like you’re holding auditions in your head without performers, but you want a group that gets along well. More than anything, Aradia needs a calm, relaxed group that won’t turn on its head.

But then, you’re not a licensed therapist.

You sigh a little, and try to think back to your idea for the game. The tavern meeting might be tried, tested, and true, but you want something a little different, and Aradia’s descriptions of the Feywilds had caught at your imagination a little too strongly for you to want to let go. You’re just concocting a reasonable explanation in your head when you spot your sister up ahead, helping carry things out of a car while chatting away to Meulin Leijon.

“Roxy?”

“Rosie! Come give us a hand, Mew just got back from Spritewest! Well, Nepeta did, but come on!”

You make your way over, and Nepeta barrels past you, taking a bag out of the car and zipping back inside the house. You hadn’t even noticed you’d wandered near to their place. Meulin’s boyfriend Kurloz leans against the car, staring off into the distance. Aside from your sister, all three look exhausted.

“How can I help?” you ask.

“Well, if you go with Mew to pick up dinner for people, that’ll be fine. Where were you during the family meeting, Rosie? We were going to have one with you, but you’d gone off.” She spins around to Meulin, and signs quickly to her, hands moving fast.

“Aradia’s house.” You don’t feel like expanding, but Meulin smiles at you, clearly ready to go, and Roxy waves you off.

“Okay, okay. Kurloz, can you help me with this one?” she asks, as you walk away with Meulin.

Meulin types out into her phone for a minute, and you read the text that pops up. You don’t sign like your sister does, although you’re trying to learn more.

(^•ω•^) THANK YOU FOR COMING WITH ME!

You type back immediately, smiling to yourself.

No problem. What are we trying to get, anyway? I don’t actually know where we’re going.

Her eyes light up, and she types again. You mentally scold yourself for not picking up as much as Roxy has, but a message pings in quickly.

(=^ω^=) WE’VE BEEN CRAVING DONUTS FROM CHERUB’S SINCE WE LEFT. THEY DO THOSE GREAT LATE NIGHT DONUTS AND COOKIE DOUGH AND JUST EVERYTHING! BUT ALSO WE WERE THINKING MAYBE PIZZA IF YOU AND ROXY WERE DOWN FOR THAT. BUT ALSO MOSTLY DONUTS!

Do donuts count as dinner?

(=^-ω-^=) THEY DO WHEN YOU MADE AS MUCH BANK AS NEPETA DID AT SPRITEWEST. I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF HER, YOU HAVE NO IDEA! SHE GOT TO MEET UP WITH SOME OF HER FANS FROM THE KICKSTARTER SHE DID TOO. SHE’S A BIT WORRIED ABOUT STOCK THOUGH. SHE SOLD MORE THAN SHE THOUGHT.

How was the rest of the convention?

(=^•^=) WE DRESSED UP ALL DAYS AND GOT TO GO TO THE RAVE AND TOOK SHIFTS! KURLOZ BOUGHT ME SOME CUTE STUFF AND WE ATE SO MUCH TAKEAWAY FOOD BUT I DON’T WANT TO COOK TONIGHT AND NEITHER DO THEY. YOUR SIS IS AWESOME THOUGH! I TEXTED HER FOR HELP AND SHE JUST CAME TO OUR RESCUE!

You smile, and follow her to the donut shop, placing your order together. You’re pleased to see they have Wild Berries back in stock (you love blackberry, it’s your favourite) and you walk out with a full box in your arms before heading to the pizza place and ordering a delivery to Nepeta’s house. Meulin shows you the notes on her phone with what everyone wants, and you end up placing an order for a Hawaiian as well, handing over the cash.

(Yes, you like pineapple on pizza. You’re aware this makes you some kind of demon.)

When you arrive back, the boxes are miraculously unpacked from the car, and Meulin skips inside with the donuts, while Nepeta hooks her arm into yours.

“So, did anything happen while I was away?”

You think for a moment, but Roxy interrupts you.

“Big things! Karkat and Dave started dating a couple of days ago.” She grins. “I mean, it’s very recent--”

“They did?!” Nepeta’s mouth drops open. “They really did?”

“Vriska’s up to her usual nonsense,” you add in. “Although are they actually dating?”

“Yeah.” Roxy winks. “He told me about it pretty seriously, and you know that things have been weird for a while--”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Nepeta bounces, and leads you both inside. “C’mon, you gotta tell me everything I missed! What else happened?”

It feels for a moment then like the planets have aligned and shown you the way to a happy, well-rounded party.

“Aradia’s getting back into Dungeons and Dragons, and I’ll be running the campaign. I know you’re busy, but if I left a spot open for you, would you want to join in when you’re free?” you ask, calmly.

Nepeta’s eyes go wide.

“Seriously?” she asks, quietly.

“Yes. She said she felt ready. Although I don’t mind if you say no, I know that she and Equius aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

Nepeta pauses, and frowns, as if thinking it over, before shaking her head.

“I’m not going to say no to something like that just because Equius thinks I shouldn’t. Or would think I shouldn’t. He’s like a Christian mom from the 80’s thanks to Vriska’s game.” She rolls her eyes, and then looks at you. “When are you starting it? I’ve got another con soon, but I’m pretty sure I could roll up a character at least.”

“I was thinking once I have all my players, but I think it would be good to ask Kanaya, Jade, and Roxy too.”

“Sweet!” Roxy grins at you. “Yeah, I’m down for that.”

“That sounds like a pretty good party.” Nepeta adjusts the cat ears on top of her head before sitting down on the sofa. “I mean, I’ve been wanting to get into a tabletop game for a bit, but I heard bad things about a couple of them in town. Apparently there’s a couple of people that Meulin knows who’ve been kicked out of a lot of games for bullying other players, and I didn’t want to join one of their games.”

“Oh, really?” Roxy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I don’t know who it is, but they’re really mean to new players, and it got really bad in one of their old campaigns. Meulin heard some of it, and it was just...really bad.” Nepeta straightens up in her seat. “But if you’re our DM, Rose, I think it would be a lot of fun! You seem like you’d be pretty story focused!”

“I also don’t tolerate bullshit, so you don’t have to worry about that.” You reach over and pat her on the hand. Nepeta is one of those people that you would absolutely call a cinnamon roll, and the idea of these people making her feel unwelcome in any way makes you want to make this a great experience for her as well.

“Well, I’m down, Nep’s down, and Aradia’s down. Now, let’s forget about that for a minute. I’m starving, and there are donuts.” Roxy bounces up, heading into the kitchen. Nepeta looks at you.

“Did you hear anything else recently?” she asks, quietly.

You hesitate, but decide not to tell her what Aradia told you about Equius, instead opting to shake your head. She nods, and Roxy shouts both of you from the kitchen.

“Kids! Come get your donuts before there aren’t any!”

“Coming!” you call back.

Chapter Text

After Roxy and Rose miss the family meeting, it was called off. One of the rules you have about these things is that people can’t be left out of them, so it’s with frustration you take to one of your fucked-up codes to bash it until morning.

To your surprise, Eridan is bringing you snacks, and drinks, and everything else. He glares darkly at you if he comes back and finds them untouched, so against your better judgement, you drink the water he brings you and eat the sandwiches. Eventually, you pick up that there were notes with each plate in Roxy’s handwriting, along with a brief apology, and it clicks. You feel bad for worrying her, but it’s also pretty sweet to see your odd guest being her errand boy.

You’re still thinking on this when Dave slopes down to talk to you.

“Eridan’s real,” he says, quietly.

“Well, no shit,” you say, scrunching your nose up at the screen. You’re yanked round by the back of your chair to face him, as he looks towards the door and then back at you. He’s clearly freaked out.

“Dave?” you ask, slowly.

“He’s real, he’s got a brother, and I don’t know what’s up with him, but I had to leave Karkat’s while they were talking about him, and I really, really don’t know what’s up with that. He’s real, he used to be here, apparently. How the hell do we have the ‘he appeared in our bathtub’ talk?”

“He’s fucking real?!” You lower your voice immediately. “What do you mean he has a brother?”

“Who, by the way, looks like an extra in Grease and is dating Karkat’s brother, so fuck my entire life and happiness, you know?” Dave almost laughs before throwing himself into a bean bag. “No one is ever going to buy that he just appeared in our bath tub. No one.”

“Hey, Dave, take a breath.” You stand up, ignoring the complaints of your stiff muscles, and sit next to him, waiting, and taking your glasses off. He looks at you after that, and you can see he’s genuinely scared.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he whispers, after a moment. “I just...Why couldn’t he have been some random kid?”

You pause for a moment, and then smile at your brother, feeling a little dead inside. “Well, at least he wasn’t dead when we found him in the bathtub.”

Dave stares at you for a moment, then breaks into weak laughter.

“You asshole, that doesn’t help anything,” he sputters, and you shake your head.

“I’m a lot less in jail for it. But, listen, Dave, if he used to be here, that means I can start searching for him. Things might be complicated here, but if he has a family member, we can set about fixing things, sort of. Although the singing might be a problem.”

“Shit. Yeah, here’s your missing brother, only now he’s creepy.”

You hesitate, feeling a little unfair, and shake your head.

“He’s not...creepy, so much. I’m trying to figure out what he is, but he’s far more human than we thought. I mean, if he’s here…”

“They thought he was in Ireland.” Dave frowns. “I mean, I could try and ask Karkat more, but it seemed pretty serious. Something’s wrong, I know it is.”

“I don’t have all the answers.” You put your glasses back on, breathing out steadily. “I think we’re going to have to rubber duck it from the very beginning, but we don’t even have all the facts. If it doesn’t make sense, how are you supposed to make it work?” You’re rambling now. “I mean, the kid turned up here, in our bath tub, and we’ve done our best because going to the police just wasn’t an option. I’m starting to think it should have been, but that’s not something we can fix now. He’s supposed to have been in Ireland, and not only is he clearly not, but he doesn’t speak most of the time. He acts like he’s waking up half the time, but then he’s perfectly stable the rest of it.”

“And the singing,” Dave reminds you.

“Yeah, the singing, and all the weird shit. This isn’t my area of expertise, this is Rosie’s.”

“She hates you calling her that,” Dave says, grinning.

“And you hate her calling you David. The point is, I’m not good with stuff I can’t make sense of. That’s her stuff, and I guess yours when you want it to be, but…”

“Listen, I like Eridan well enough, I just can’t see any way of this going well now that he’s real.” Dave slumps, and looks up at you. “I don’t want anything to go wrong. I don’t want you to get in trouble, and I don’t want…”

“I don’t want that either, dude. It’s fucked up, and we’re doing our best to sort it. But I’m sure that Eridan won’t want us in that sort of trouble.” You can hope so, anyway.

*  *  *

It’s only after you’ve convinced Dave to go get some rest that you realise you’ve been down here for a while, and head back upstairs. Roxy’s sat with Eridan, the two of them working on a jigsaw puzzle like a pair of grandmas, and when Eridan sees you, he waves. Roxy looks up and sighs.

“Rosie stayed with Nepeta last night, by the way. She got in a little while ago.”

“Great, did you guys talk?” you ask, immediately.

“Eridan was with you when she got in, and she’s got something she’s working on. She said family meeting can happen tomorrow, though, and if you think you can tell me you got any sleep, you’re wrong.” She points to the stairs, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit. Get up there, now.” There’s a fondness in her voice, at least. “I’ll take care of the kids.”

You want to argue back, but you know it’s somewhat pointless. Roxy, of all people – except maybe one idiot you never want to see again – knows exactly how you throw yourself into your work when you want to avoid the world. She’s known you all her life, after all.

“Fine, but check on Dave. Make sure he drinks actual water.”

She snorts, but you’re already heading to your room, feeling the weight of the hours you’ve worked on your shoulders and eyelids. Not moving for so long makes you ache, and you don’t so much get into your bed as flop onto it.

You fall asleep, drifting into sweet unconsciousness, and for once, you don’t dream.

Chapter Text

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you are most likely in shock.

You’ve grown up in this town, and perhaps one of your more annoying habits is that you pay attention to people. It’s a bad habit more than anything else, but ever since you were young, you’ve found it to almost be relaxing. You wouldn’t engage, but you’d watch people everywhere you went, and try and glean what you could about them from the snapshots of their life that they unknowingly presented to you. Cafes, libraries, bus rides – everything gave you a chance to learn more about people and how they were so different, yet so similar. You could tell when a smiling family was genuine, or a recently divorced couple trying to make things easier for their child. You’d watch first dates crash and burn. You’d hear a woman prattle on about how her children aren’t doing anything right, and how they’re raising their children wrong, and now she was desperately trying to assure herself that she was right, and being right was worth whatever argument they’d had. If you didn’t so much as smile, the world would open up like a flower and show you everyone’s secrets.

School was a good place for it as well. There weren’t many people you didn’t know about, and even for a small school yours was full of strange people. You’d paid attention to all of them when you were younger, and you were good at remembering faces, and still are.

“Eridan Ampora,” you say, as you sit down, slowly. Dirk looks as though he’s been carved out of stone, Dave looks guilty, and Roxy looks as though she’s trying extremely hard to stay cheerful.

“Well, yes,” she says, while Eridan stares at you.

“Did one of you tranquillise him? And why is he even here?” You look between your siblings. “Is something going on I should have been aware of sooner?”

“You have been very busy lately, Rosie,” Roxy says, gently. “We really did want to tell you, but it’s a bit...well, Dirk should tell you.”

“Oh, thanks for that, Roxy. Really.” Dirk looks a little sour, but he sighs after a moment. “Rose, I’m just going to come out and say that this is going to sound like a lie. So I want to say that I’m not going to be offended if you don’t believe me, but Eridan turned up in our bathtub, and I don’t think he’s entirely human.”

“He’s human.” You narrow your eyes at your two older siblings. You can deal with Dave later. “In fact, I went to school with him for a number of years. I can’t believe you wouldn’t have remembered.”

“You went to school with him?” Dave asks, notes of horror in his voice.

“He was significantly more annoying and less...whatever this is, but yes.” Your brain catches up with your ears. “The bath? He turned up in our bath? Did he break in or something?”

“No.” Dirk shakes his head. “Look, Rose, you’re the one who reads all the Lovecraftian shit. Something is going on, and I know it sounds insane, but will you at least trust me when I say he turned up unconscious and I didn’t kidnap him?”

You do, unfortunately, trust your older brother. Mostly because he wouldn’t go out of his way to deal with another human being if he didn’t have to, so you doubt he would ever go out of his way to resort to kidnapping your old classmate.

“If you went to school with him, then…” Dave looks sick. “Then you know him, too.”

“Yes, that is rather implied.” You shoot him a sharp look. “I still can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me about this. Or that you’d wait until we had to have a family meeting. Besides, you never answered my question about whether or not he’s been tranquillised.”

“He’s just kind of like that, honest.” Roxy holds up her hand. “And I don’t think any of us would spend money on that sort of stuff. We’ve got hobbies to waste money on.”

Unfortunately, this is again true. You want to swear, but you hold it in, forcing yourself to smile politely at Eridan.

“I’m sorry, this must be a bit of a shock for you. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Rose. We used to despise each other at school.”

He tilts his head, looking at you, as though he’s trying hard, but shakes his head after a moment. He looks a little out of it, and you look between your siblings.

“There’s...a bit more to it, actually,” Dirk says, slowly, as though he’s trying not to scare you off. You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, then, you’d better get started.”

It takes a while to get through everything, and when you’ve been thoroughly caught up, you feel a strange sense of danger and excitement.

“It’s certainly a tangle,” you say, carefully. “In my opinion, though, we need to find out more before we take any steps forward.”

“Steps forward?” Dave echoes.

“Well, you can’t expect us to keep him here forever, or to let his family continue to believe he’s missing, if they indeed do, but a little while longer won’t hurt either. And I’m not saying that from a place of malice, but from a place of concern. You said that there’s been some strange goings on since he got here, correct?”

“Yes, but--”

You hold a hand up, and you can feel your siblings looking at you.

“There’s always been strange theories for the unexplained and the supernatural, and I think we need to call a spade a spade. This, right here? This is supernatural bullshit. Luckily, with most things, you can use most older stories as a sort of…reference sheet for a diagnosis.”

Dirk raises his eyebrows as he looks at you. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“Oh, I’m saving the breakdown for later,” you say, casually. “Right now, I need to catch you up to speed, but I’ll need to do some research first. I’m not sure where this falls on the supernatural scale, but it is something I’ll need to look into. For now, we need to monitor him.”

“What do I tell Karkat?” Dave asks.

“For now, nothing.” You hesitate. “He and Kanaya were close when he went to our school, but...I remember he left, just before you came. We were all quite young, so I could try asking her more about it and see if she remembers anything, but I won’t tell her anything either. I don’t think it would be wise.”

“What are you thinking?” Dirk asks you, looking at you as though he’s liable to take a screwdriver to your head to see what’s going on in there. You compose yourself, giving him an arch look.

“I’m thinking that this could be something quite bad.”

“Rose.”

“Yes?” you respond, before you all turn to see Eridan staring at you, a flicker of annoyance on his face. It’s an emotion you’ve seen there before.

“Rose,” he repeats, looking at you.

“Oh, shit,” Dave says, half impressed, as you and Eridan look at each other, both of you falling silent.