Reset

by leelynnresika95

Summary:

Dave Strider has lost everything. Pre-Sburb, he was mute. During the Beta Session, he was given a voice. Now he has nothing. No voice, no friends, no Bro. All he has are the strings attached to his old life that he had left when he entered the session. Not only that, but then he adopts a orphaned kid a few years later after he lost everything.
But what do you do when you can't simply go back to the way things were and pick up where you left off?

Notes:

Post Scratch AU where no one is dead, but no one can remember their connections to one another.
Inspired by a prompt I saw but I don't remember what exactly anymore...
This is kinda trash because I wrote it a while back and never got around to editing so sorry if it isn't the best!

Chapter 1: Recap

Eight years was a long time. It was a long time to go without any friends. Without anyone who knew your life story. Of course, you could always try to tell someone else, get close to someone else, but it wasn’t possible. You couldn’t tell anyone anyways. It was too hard, and you had no voice. And people were too judgmental to believe such a story even if you did.

Yes. A story. A story that still haunted you even after five years of peace and normalcy. It had been five years since you had played that stupid game. That horrible, treacherous, stupidstupidstupid game. That game that took your friends away from you. That game that took your older brother from you, your father figure. That game that took back that beautiful voice you had gotten to call your own. Everyone and everything that had been important in your life; gone.

And yet you remember. You remember everything.

You were the Knight of Time.

You remember every death.

You remember every person.

You remember everything in your silence.

And you’re the only one who remembers after the game ended.

Faced with a choice, you chose to reset the game. You had scratched the disc. The alternative was letting everyone who was still alive die. So you made The Scratch. You didn’t know that things wouldn’t be the same after you reset everything. That your friends wouldn’t exist. That you still wouldn’t have Bro.

What’s more, you got thrown back to what you were without the game. No voice. You had always been mute. You had been born without the right cords in your throat for you to be able to make any vocal sounds. In the game, your friends never knew this. The game had miraculously fixed you. But of course everything had to be too good to be true.

The game had left you broken, when you thought everything would be fine after you fixed it.

But now you know otherwise. And you wish. For what? That you could’ve died along with them? No. You want your family back.

But you can’t have them.

You used to be the Knight of Time.

Now all you can do is watch the clocks tick down the rest of your lonely life without your loved ones beside you.

Chapter 2: Reboot

Summary:

Dave picked up his old life, it's eight years after the game. And now things get interesting.

Notes:

Okay, quite a bit longer than the first chapter, but still not edited, really. D: Sorry if there's mistakes!

Your name is Dave Strider. You are turning 22 in a few weeks.

You have a steady job as a bartender/DJ at the biggest club in Houston, Texas. Everyone loves you, even though they’ve never heard you talk. Even more, you have already starred in seven movies since you were 14, all action ones with you doing your own kickass stunts.

But what no one knows is that you have no voice. They have a voice actor for you, a pretty chill dude with a sweet and totally badass voice, so you just mouth the words with your eyes hidden behind your trademark sunglasses, and voila, you’re a character in another movie. But only your agent and coworkers know this.

They’re safe as houses.

Not even the hounds of the ever-present paparazzi has figured out the most personal fucked up shit about you yet. Your private life is like another dimension that no one can touch. Your personal shit is your no-no zone.

You have the perfect life going for you. You’re rich, handsome, famous, and could have anyone and anything you ever wanted. But you’re not satisfied. The paparazzi always ask why you’re still living in your hometown. Why not Hollywood, or Beverly Hills or any other stereotypical shithole for richy rich assholes. You never tell them, not just because you can’t, but because if you did, you’d say you just don’t want it. You don’t need it. You just tell them where they can shove it.

The apartment you live in is enough. It’s for eating, hygiene, and making music; everything you’d deem as basic day-to-day necessities.

You rarely sleep there. Shit, with this chronic insomnia that has plagued you once again since you were returned to normal life? Naw. And besides, sleeping scares you. Without pills or alcohol or some kind of help to put you down, you dream. And when you dream, you remember. You don’t want to remember anymore. So you wander.

The barista at the nearest coffee shop knows your usual order and always has it ready within minutes of you entering and sitting down. She smiles as she sets it down in front of you, and you nod in her direction, giving her that sort of smile you have reserved for only her

Nice girl, potentially interesting to chat with. She doesn’t pity you. And she doesn’t care that you’re famous. You would consider her a friend, but you don’t. You finish your coffee, leave a ten on the table, give a slight wave to which she gives you a smile back for, and you head back out into the brisk, hot air. Even in the early morning hours after getting off of your night shift, the temperature in Houston is at its lowest of a warm 75 degrees.

The sun is coming up as you head towards a quieter part of the city. The early morning people are starting to file out onto sidewalks, joggers are passing you by. You comtemplate working out sometime today, but the remember you have more songs to compose before your next show. Boss wanted a few new songs to your set.

A few people double glance at you, but then shake it off. You imagine their brief thoughts: Holy shit—that can’t be the famous D. Strider. He’s too famous to be dressed like that in casual, dilapidated clothes, and look so worn out. He was a man of action. That dude looked nothing like the movie star/DJ who never got tired.

Walking further and further into the more deserted part of the town, you watched the sun rise. The rays of light painted the sky in red and orange, a fiery sight to be seen. It was going to be another blistering day in Texas.

But out of nowhere, that all changed.

A sudden buzz of sound filled the air. A static clung to your skin, vibrating the world around you. You look up in time to see a streak of fire falling in the sky. A meteor.

You’ve seen them before. You know what they mean. You can only hope you’re still right. So you break into a run.

Not away from where the meteor was headed.

No. You run towards it.

You sprint as fast as you can. It’d been so long since you had flashstepped, you didn’t think you could do it at the moment anyway.

The meteor crashed into a field just outside the city limits. It wasn’t too big of a meteor, but it made a crater as big as a football field. You skidded to a stop when you saw and felt the impact. The shock wave after it hit set off car alarms and sat you on your ass, hard. After a few minutes of getting your wits about you, you’re up and running again like a bat out of hell.

You come upon the crater, smoke and debris still falling. Covering your mouth with the kerchief around your neck, you stumble down the slope towards the center.

You’re not as shocked as you thought you would be at what you find.

A small figure lies in the middle of the crater. A tiny, sleeping form curled around a familiar puppet. You’re shocked, and yet, not really.

Hey little man, you think, gazing upon the baby from behind your sunglasses. His skin is fair, Albino, actually. Soft wisps of blonde hair, slightly lighter than yours, grace his head. Not believing your eyes, you reach out and gently run your hand over the sleeping baby’s form.

Reacting to the touch of warmth, the baby shifted and let out a little coo, his eyes beginning to open. His eyes wide open, orange irises stare back at you. You gently pick him up in your hands and hold him close. He uncurls his tiny hand and reaches towards your face, probably trying to grab your sunglasses. You remove them to place them on the top of your head.

Well, fuck, you think as it dawns on you who you’re holding.

His orange eyes stare back into your red ones as if he knows what you just thought, and you feel a shift in the universe. Now the shock hits your system like a jack-knife to your brainstem. It’s such a jolt that you wonder or a second if you’re high—no, you don’t do that shit, wrecks your system—then you realize:

You won’t be alone any longer. After eight years, he had finally come back.

Welcome back, Bro.

Chapter 3: Begin

Summary:

Dave gets Dirk settled in and goes back to work.

Notes:

This just seems like it's a filler chapter but I guess it isn't...?

The little guy had cried when you had almost forgotten to grab the puppet, so you snugged both the kid and the puppet under your flannel over shirt and quickly got out of the crater in time to escape the sirens and news cameras arriving at the scene.

Dirk, as you remembered was the little dude’s name, nuzzled your chest and cooed again, falling back asleep against you as you walked past the growing crowds and all the way back to your apartment. No one questioned you, no one stopped you.

Unlocking and opening the door one-handed, you realize that you have no place to put Dirk. Ah, shit.

You end up shuffling things off your bed in your unused bedroom and collapse there, keeping Dirk in the crook of your arm with his puppet. Cute little fucker.

And for once, in a long time, you fall asleep to the steady breathing of another human being.

--

Of course you knew that raising a kid by yourself at 22 would be hard.

But if Bro had raised you by himself, then you could make it through raising a kid, too. You didn’t turn out half bad, even. You were family after all, and like he had always reminded you, never back down from a challenge. Backing down was for the weaker types.

And it’s not like raising Dirk was going to be too difficult.

And yet, that’s where you find out that raising a baby by yourself is not all what it’s cracked up to be. Babies are fussy. Not to mention Dirk was a very fussy baby.

Boy, did he have a set of lungs and damn him if he didn’t use them. Not that you slept anyways, so the every-three-hour-interval feedings weren’t a big deal. You had that covered. Insomnia came in handy.

But what wore you down was not knowing what to try next when he started fussing again.

You had read all the books, looked at all the techniques and read up on all the websites. But nothing took enough to calm the little man down for more than a few hours, tops. Not knowing what to do to calm Dirk was so hard on you.

But one time, just for the heck of it, you plopped the little guy in the kitchen sink, time for his bath anyways, and filled it up a quarter of the way with warm water.


Automatically, the kid quit his screeching.

All the fussiness, poof, gone.

Having never fully placed him in the water due to your parental reading, you had no fucking clue this would do the trick.

Warm water.

This makes you realize the reason behind all the cold showers you used to have to suffer through when you used it after Bro.

The asshole.

Who knew? Warm water, that puppet, and music were the revolutionary tricks to routinely pacify the kid. How very interesting. You began to use these to your advantage.


But you always had a problem looming in the back of your mind, waiting to present itself. What was worse than when those things didn’t work was the constant fear you
have of not being able to comfort him vocally and that it would alter him in some way. In the following weeks after finding Dirk, you had never said a word to him. You hoped he would grow to know that wasn’t the norm for others, but you were doing the best you could. Dirk would always get the best.

So you always had something making noise for Dirk.

You had even caved and bought the typical learning baby videos, the ones with the alphabet, and animals, and shit. But when those weren’t playing, the television or a radio was on, or you had him in a bouncer by your turntables while you mixed something new for your job.

You had taken your first long term leave from your jobs to get things situated with Dirk on board with you now. Questions were asked via email, but you never really explained things besides saying that you had a new situation you had to have some time off to accommodate for. With a compromise of frequently checking in, you were given the time off for however long was needed.

A few weeks into having Dirk around, you realize you should probably brush up on your best way of communication with most people: sign language. If you were going to be raising this kid, you might as well teach him your language. Otherwise things would be very hard together.

You begin mixing in child sign language videos and even start making the movements to words on the radio and television to go along. Dirk always watches you aptly while hugging his puppet, intrigued by your hands making such intricate movements, eye riveted like he had to get every detail as if they were the key to surviving the supposed zombie apocalypse beggars on the street raved about. He soon starts mimicking your movements and making sounds along with them.

After months of this, you know the pride that’s felt by every first-time parent as your kid crawls, stands, tries to walk, and mumbles his first word and actual hand gesture that corresponded: “Dada.”

You have never felt so rewarded. Hell, you almost shit yourself.

Except you didn’t because a Strider doesn’t do that, not even for ironic purposes.

--

You send an email to your boss that you’re coming back to work. Lenient as always, he welcomes you back without any issues. Considering you have about four albums’ worth of new mixes up your sleeve, he shouldn’t be complaining.

One slight problem, though. You don’t have anyone to drop Dirk off with.

Not knowing any other way around it or any alternatives, you bring Dirk along to work. Unbuckling Dirk from his car seat, you buckle him into the carrier with his puppet.


You stride towards the employee back door, nodding at the bouncer that guards the door against sneaky fan girls trying to get to the dressing rooms. Striders have reason behind their quirks; no one gives a shit, you’re revered as a motherfucking god here.

The bouncer nods back, gives an inquisitive look at the baby carrier, then opens the door for you without commenting.

Your eyes narrow behind your sunglasses and you squint uncharacteristically in the darkness of the corridor. You hadn’t worn them much around the apartment for comforting reasons for Dirk, so you were out of your groove, but you keep your trademark poker face on easily.

You head on in, going straight towards your boss’s office. He’s your only trusted person on this planet that you’d leave your kid alone with. You’re hoping he sees this and is willing to look after Dirk while you work your shift.

“Oh, hey, Dave, my man! Long time no see, so glad you’re back, you have no idea what has been going on since you went on leave—“ Your boss stops mid-sentence, his voice dropping off as you enter the room smoothly, maneuvering the baby carrier into the nearest seat and sitting in the chair closest to it. You look up from your kid into your boss’s face after assuring yourself he’s still fast asleep.

You don’t need words to know that your boss has no clue what to do right now. So you start to explain with your hands, he knew ASL, telling him that you have a kid now, no mother to pass him off to, and you were wondering if he’d be willing to watch him for an hour or two at a time during your shift.

Shit’s simple enough.

Your boss has known you since you were fourteen, helped you through those last four years in school as an orphaned kid to help make you who you were today. He had helped to ease your pain of losing everyone, though he wouldn’t ever know the whole story. And now, after years of being independent, you needed his help again.

He sighed, got to his feet from his desk chair, and ambled around to stand near you and your child. Pushing back the cover on the baby carrier, your boss gazed down upon Dirk. Dave’s kid, went through your boss’s mind. Definitely his; no doubting the resemblance in facial structure and features. Pulling the cover back down, your boss looked up into your sunglasses, and smiled.

“Got yourself a deal. I wouldn’t be babysitting just any kid, though. Be thankful it’s yours, Strider. I’d only do this for you.”

You flash him one of your rare grins and bumps fists with your longtime friend. You hand him a slip of paper stating some details just in case Dirk gets fussy when he wakes up like the doting parent heading off for some late-night shenanigans.

As you check on your son one last time before going to your shift, in a sudden urge of publically uncharacteristic (and unironic) emotional tenderness, you kiss your sleeping baby on the forehead and tuck the puppet closer to him before walking out the office door.

Chapter 4: Rhyme and Reason

Summary:

Introducing new characters and moving the plot line along. Finally.

Notes:

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. So sorry it has taken me way longer than I had said to update this. Writer's block is just loving me and won't go away for very long after I push it away like a clingy boyfriend. Enjoy this, don't complain if it's grammatically incorrect or things because I wrote this in rush before I went to work!
It's pretty short, but the next chapter should be up shortly after (not two weeks later) and should be better -_-''

The music is blasting, sicknasty new beats of yours blurring out of the speakers like there’s no tomorrow. With the turntables under your fingertips, you are on top of the world.

Your mind is focused on your music so closely that you almost don’t notice your boss slip into the dance room to stand near the doorway to the offices and dressing rooms. He watches you, his hands full of a squirming kid. Dirk is in his arms, quickly looking around.

You suspect he’s out here with him due to asking for “Dada”, and of course your boss had no trouble figuring out that was you.

Twisting around enough to view the stage, Dirk’s eyes light on you, your headphones half on, hands a blur on the turntable as you whip out beats.

You’re almost done for your session now, so when Dirk reaches out his hand towards you from across the crowd, you smile slightly to yourself and finish the set with a new flourish.

After exiting the stage, you slide through the crowd, eager to have Dirk in your arms again.

Man, are you turning into a sap for this kid or what? You reach your boss, and Dirk is all but falling out of his hands to get to you, small, grabby hands extended. Scooping him up into your arms, you let yourself give a small smile to reassure Dirk, who then reaches up for your shades. You instead curl his tiny fingers around your own to distract him.

You can tell some of the crowd has noticed you in the back despite the next performer being on stage now.

On a whim, you balance Dirk on your hip (which is something you are amazed you can do since you don’t really have hips to balance him on) and sauntered towards the back door, moving out of the crowd.

--

“Ouch! Watch where you are throwing, G, you are going to end up breaking another glass or two,” a silky but slightly perturbed voice imparted from across the bar. Having thrown a bottle towards the waitress for her to catch, Gamzee Makara just giggled and went back to whipping up more drinks for his customers.

The bar was bustling as always. Well, not that it wasn’t expected, considering who ran it. Gamzee was a thriller at the bar, if someone came there for a drink, you got a show included, free of exspense. He’d bounce around, flip and twirl bottles and do little dances and juggle things to make customers entertained.

All the while, nothing spilled. He was practically famous for it, the club was such a hit with the city’s night crowds.

But one thing was for sure, boy, could he rake in the money when it came to tips. It was not unusual for a hundred dollar bill or two to wind up in his pocket by the end of the night.

He could talk a lot, too. Gamzee put pride into telling his customers adventures and jokes and stories that popped off the top of his head. He was good at it; he never had anyone not coming back for more. And with more regulars came more people hearing about the bartender. And when more people came in for a drink, more tips filled his pockets.

Heck, he didn’t even need to do anything on the side to make up for any money lost in the tending. But he did it anyways. It was a fun time, a shock to the system at the end of a gun.

Oh, yes, the drug deals in the big city could be substantially life-threatening. But when there was dope to be smoked and people needed an upper on the side, how could he resist?

Kanaya, the waitress Gamzee threw bottles at, also had her tricks to bring in business and put money in her pockets…bra, panties, shoes, you name it. If a drink took too long to get to your table, Kanaya took care of you. It’s a club, is it not?

Even not being a performer or a dancer, she could shimmy and shake it like the rest of the entertainment and wasn’t afraid to show it. Her motto was ‘it pays to be a woman’, and she meant it in the most literal sense of the phrase. Even if she didn’t charge you for a lap dance or a show, customers made up for it in way of tips.

Not to mention how exotic she was compared to everyone else. She was a troll, a newer race that had been introduced and mingled with the humans, along with Gamzee.

Grey skin, predatory smiles, flashing yellow eyes, candy corn colored horns of different shapes and sizes. Trolls brought in business to stores alone just for humans to gawk and stare at the fabulous new beings the human race had only begun to know of a decade ago.

And despite the job description and otherwise demoralizing circumstances and extents they both had to go through to have a place in the new world, it was quite a step higher than the original plan the humans had had for them.

Chapter 5: Motherly Fits and Bets

Summary:

Gamzee and Kanaya have an ongoing bet. Dave gets a new babysitter for Dirk, and Gamzee gets pancakes.

Notes:

Here it is, guys! I get love and hugs? Yes? No? Okay.
And now I'm alone, it's late and I reeeeeeally want pancakes. Sigh.

Gamzee and Kanaya had a long time bet running between them. Since being hired at the club, they had hit it off as friendly rivals, competeing for the most tips at the end of the night.

 
After a long night of working the crowds and bending over backwards (sometimes literally) to please customers, Gamzee and Kanaya were on their way out from the locker room after changing back into their street clothes from the gaudy and flashy costumes.

"You really do need to sharpen your act, I believe I caught the most big spenders in tonight's run, sugar," said Kanaya breathily, raising a delicate eyebrow in Gamzee's direction as he opened the door for her into the back hallway.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that guessin' there, you may be motherfucking hot stuff out there on the floor but without me, your customers wouldn't be chillin' in your company, chica!" Gamzee's eyes flashed. "I could just make you drop all the drinks; you ain't a born juggler like me. Your flattery shit don't do no good unless drinks go all 'round!"

Kanaya huffed at him, feigning hurt feelings. "Are you trying to suggest that my looks alone couldn't possibly be a reason for the large tips I earn? How dare you!" She teasingly smacked him across the arm. Well, maybe a little harder than a teasing hit. She hoped he might bruise from it.

Gamzee just giggled crazily and skipped like a mad man to their cars. "Hurry up, let's see who got the most dope--I mean dough!"

Kanaya snickered. "Yes, we both already know you have got the 'dope', mister big dealer."

She unlocked her car's passenger side door and went around to her own and got in. Gamzee joined her and together they unloaded their stashes of that night's cash into two separate piles on the dash. The employees parked in a secluded area not far from the backdoor where one of the bouncers stood.

"-and that makes $438." Kanaya said in finality after pulling two last dollars that had still been in her bra. "Well, shit, girl, I don't know if I can beat that tonight." Gamzee finished counting his stack of bills. "Mine is.....$470! Motherfucking yes! Now let's get out of here and get me some pancakes, you are buyin' me some fucking tasty-ass pancakes!" Gamzee howled in laughter at the dark cloud pout Kanaya had on her face.

"That is twice this week I have had to buy you food. At least it isn't that strange drink you always stock up on. What is that called? Fang-o? Isn't that a movie sight?"

"Naw, motherfucker, Faygo. F-A-Y-G-O!"

"Well there is something you can actually take enough time to spell. How the, excuse my French, hell was 'p sht yel h' supposed to translate easily into 'pink shirt, yellow hat' when I was taking out drinks to that isolated table?"

"Not that hard to figure out if your mind is up to the lingo, bro."

"I am not a 'bro'."

 

"Whatever ya' say, sister!"

Kanaya grumbled incoherently before looking up towards the backdoor to the club. A peculiar thing caught her eye. Was that...?

Dave Strider, the famous DJ that had been on leave for the past two months, was carrying a baby carriage to his car. And a puppet, but nevermind that.

Kanaya, maternal instincts now locked onto the carrier and not letting up, suddenly shot out of the car, leaving Gamzee with a question mark literally hanging over his head.


Figures, he only had pancakes on his mind.

"Dave?" Kanaya approached the DJ as he finished securing the carrier in his car. "Dave, honey, I know you're into ironic things, but why do you have a baby carrier-" She saw movement in the carrier, and lo and behold, a little baby, no more than a year old at the most peeped out from behind a Rainbowdash blanket.

Before Dave could make any effort to gesture and explain, Dirk giggled and smiled up at Kanaya and she was a goner. Scooping him up she started cooing at him while his wide eyes checked out the strange new being holding him.

Dave started motioning about him to Kanaya, explaining things as easily as he could.

"Uh huh, okay, yes, I see the dilemma, easy enough. That does it, i'm his babysitter and that is that." Kanaya cooed at Dirk again. He seemed rather fascinated and kept trying to reach for her horns.

Wait what did you just say? Dave signed after a moment's thoughts.

"What do you mean what did I just say? You heard me loud and clear, Mister Strider. This little one will be under my care when you have your 'jam sessions' or whatever it is called. Boss has paperwork, and even though I've got waitressing, I can trade with Trisha. It'll give me a break from that lunatic over there in my car, also." She motioned in the general direction of Gamzee, who waved enthusiastically in their direction.

Handing Dave his baby back, Kanaya politely smiled and started back towards her car. "Don't worry, Mama Kanaya 'has your back', as I believe they say nowadays. Now I must go escort the unwanted passenger in my car out for some pancakes at this ungodly hour and spend a considerable amount of my tips on him, too."

Dave didn't know what had hit him. but one thing was for damn sure, he had a babysitter, a good one too, and things were looking up for Dirk being brought up in the club scene. On the drive home, Dave kept glancing back at Dirk all snuggled up in his carrier, Lil Cal, the creepy but sort of cute puppet, held close.

You got me this far, Bro, now let's see if I can make your past life up to you by doing the same, he thought.

Chapter 6: Tradition

Summary:

The club employees have a thing for sunglasses because of Dave. Hence the welcome present for Dirk.ouo
Also a few new characters are introduced!

Notes:

ahhh oh jeez so sorry it took so long bluh bluh crap here you go, sorry if it isn't quality enough ;A;

'Hey little dude get your ass up,' you sign to Dirk when you pull off his blanket from his new twin-sized bed and he opens his eyes in a glaring squint at you. Dirk huffs and stretches like a cat. Well, more like a kitten, he's still a toddler. He gets up out of his bed and goes to his dresser like a big boy, proudly grabbing his own clothes and took off his My Little Pony night shirt, which he had had a tantrum about in the store to get it.

So what, your kid wanted a girl's shirt. It was ironic, and you were all about irony, so you let him have it.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a white shirt with 'My Dad Says I'm Cool' on it, Dirk starts towards the door to go get breakfast, even though it's a normal family's dinner time. You hold back a smile and grab him by the pantsloop; his shirt was backwards. You flip him around and twist the shirt for him to get it the right way and tickle him, which always annoys Dirk because it breaks his poker face. Dirk is a major giggler, really high pitched and cute.

"Bro! Stop iiiit! Gah-" Dirk struggled against you and squirmed, giggling his little head off. By the time you released him he was flushed in the face and had quite the grin. You smiled at him from behind your sunglasses and signed 'breakfast time, shorty', pushed the sunglasses onto the top of your head, and followed him to the small kitchen of your apartment, watching his little legs move. "What's for breakfast?" Dirk asked, his wide orange eyes looking up at you from under wild and spiked bangs.

You rummage through the kitchen, finding pancake mix and blueberries. 'The breakfast of striders: blueberry pancakes, little man' you say and flash step to turn on the stove and begin mixing the batter.

"Hey! Can I mix it?" Dirk asks you, and you set him up on the counter with the bowl on his lap, a big spoon in hand.

Bustling about the room, you smirk to yourself. You are the best housewife. It is you. You even have a frilly apron that says 'Kiss the Cook' on it. Dirk thinks nothing of it, but Rose would have a giggle-snort fit if she ever saw you like this-

Wait. Who's Rose? You stop in the middle of prep. You must've paused for too long, because Dirk has also stopped and is starnig at you with a question mark on his face.


"You okay..?" You shake your head and sigh. Tousling Dirk's hair against his protest, you sign to him 'nothing' and get back to making breakfast.

 

Thinking back you try to recall that name you had thought of. What name?

You don't remember.

--

Finished with breakfast, and after cleaning up after both of you, you pull on some shoes and a jacket. 'Come on, dude, work time,' you sign to Dirk, who was fidgeting with his hair  to spike it back up after you had flattened the cowlick he would always get. "Okay, but can I touch the board this time, Bro? Pleeeease?"



'Maybe when we get back home after my session, I'll let you try out my own turntables,' you tell him, helping him into a sweatshirt. Kneeling down, you looked into his orange eyes and gave him a reassuring half smile. 'I'll even teach you something sweet, okay?' You ruffle his hair and open the door, welcoming the brisk, cooler Texan night air as you  both walk (well, Dirk toddled) to your car.

 
"Wait!" About to strap Dirk into his booster seat, he suddenly bolted out of the car and ran back towards the apartment as fast as his little legs could carry him. Once at the door he glanced back at you. 'What's wrong?' you sign quickly, a worried expression on your face. You haven't put your sunglasses back on yet, you try not to wear them around Dirk unless at work.


 
"I almost forgot Lil' Cal!" That puppet. Always the puppet. Everywhere he went, Dirk had to bring the puppet. Cal. You could never figure out exactly why the kid loved it so much, but hey, whatever made Dirk happy made you happy. Mostly. The puppet was kind of creepy.

Nah. Lil' Cal was actually pretty cool. In a sense.


 
Dirk ran back out, ran back, shut the door, then ran towards the car again with the puppet tagging along in his arms. "Phew! That was a close one, Bro!" Dirk exclaimed as he wiggled back up into his booster seat for you to strap him in. You raise an eyebrow, 'Was that really necessary?'


 
Dirk gives an incregilous look. "Lil' Cal is cool. He can come to work, too, right, Bro?"



'Sure, he can, just don't lose him like last time. You never know what shenanigans he'd get into without you watching him.' You tighten his seatbelt and tug to make sure it's secure then flash step around to the driver door and get in. Looking in the review mirror, you sign 'your responsibility.'


 
You drive to the club, your own beats filling the car interior on the way there. Pulling into the parking lot, you get out and help Dirk with his seatbelt. The kid was always getting into the oddest tangles with the seatbelt. "It really isn't my fault, Bro! It just somehow happens!" Dirk complains as you untangle him and pull him from the seat.


 
The kid grabs Cal, and you flash step to the other side to grab his coloring books and crayons. Little dudes all about art now. Pretty cool, considering he's only seven, but the kid has mad skills, maybe even better than yours one day. Just maybe.


 
Stepping back over to Dirk's side, you lean down slightly to grab his hand and he skips along beside you as you kick the car door closed and begin walking to the employee back door of the club. Stepping inside, the new bouncer, a troll with cracked shades that went by the name Equius, nodded at you to get your attention. "Boss wants to see you in his... office for a second before you.... begin your... session." His english is a bit broken, but bouncers don't really need to speak much. You nod and glance at Dirk from behind your shades that you had just slipped on before entering the club. You follow the troll to the office, skipping kid in tow.


 
Equius opens the office door and steps aside for you. A bit formal, the dude. But you walk inside, pulling Dirk along and suddenly you notice how almost every employee is standing in the small room, except for a select few who are probably running the club right now. You run through your mind and try to figure out what occasion it could be for them to all be here waiting for you.


 
Because they were waiting for you, weren't they?


 
Apparently not, because Kanaya comes up and tells you to sit down and you pull Dirk onto your knee, suddenly realizing everyone is smiling at Dirk, not you.


 
You see, this club's employees have a thing for facial accesories. Yours happens to be sunglasses. Equius had his cracked ones, lunatic bartender Makara had his facepaint, Kanaya work tons of glitter makeup to look flashy, and so on and so forth. You know what's going on, and smugly smirk behind Dirk's head as your boss addresses Dirk.


 
Dirk's orange eyes go wide as he sees that he's the center of attention. He huddles back against you slightly, he's a shy kid to be honest.


 
"Dirk Strider, you've been coming here a lot with Dave, hmm?" Dirk nods. Boss looks over at you so you turn Dirk around so you can explain whats going on. 'You see how i wear these shades lil dude' Dirk nods 'Well you're gonna get a surprise'


 
You both turn back around to find Kanaya holding something behind her back. "Well, to be honest, this is a bit cheesy and late, but since you've become Dave's family, we all felt like welcoming you to ours, Dirk. You're part of the club's family now, so we all thought you deserved proper recognition."


 
She brought her hands around to reveal a pair of shades. But not just any kind of shades. These were pointy anime shades. Shades with an uncanny resembalance to the ones your own Bro had once worn.


 
If it weren't for the shades you wore, everyone would have been aware of yourr tears, burning white hot in your eyes, just waiting to spill over and makes tracks down your face to let everyone know.


 
Thankfully Dirk jumps off your lap to run to Kanaya so he can try on his new eyewear. You take the moment to step away from the group as they oooh and ahh over Dirk to  get some fresh air outside, alone.


 
Outside the backdoor of the club, you can breathe again, but with breathing easy comes the chest racking sobs you had held in while inside. God, do you miss him. You miss him looming over you as you did stuff, waiting for the right to spring into a strife, or making sure you didn't hurt yourself, or checking your homework, or making sure you ate your veggies like a good little dude. You miss his rare snide remarks, the way he smirked when he knew he was going to kick your ass because you made the wrong move and took the trap opening he made for you. You missed his smuppets strewn around the old small apartment you'd shared. You missed everything you'd known before now. But most of all you missed how even after a rough day, a more-than-usually painful strife, or anything bad, Bro would bandage you up, bring you hot cocoa or apple juice, kiss you on the forehead, and later when you got too old for affectionate forehead kisses, ruffle your white blonde hair, and say with his slight southern twang, "You did good, kid. You did just fine."


 
But now you've got your own kid to raise. Spitting image of your Bro. Almost. Just almost.


 
Getting a hold of yourself, you wipe your eyes and any trace of emotion from your face and place your sunglasses back on youe eyes. Now, the only way anyone can know is if you removed your glasses, and everyone knows that shit just doesnt happen.


 
You walk back inside to the club to fake smirks at faces you don't know, and look to the future in front of you, trying your best to forget the past.


 
But, thinking back, you're not sure if you are truly remembering it all.



Twenty-nine, and memory-loss is already setting. Getting older fucking sucks.

Notes:

I FINISHED THIS STUPID CHAPTER AT 1 AM OKAY MY SPELLING AND GRAMMAR AND PRETENSE MISTAKES

JUST

GOMEN

Chapter 7: New Beats

Summary:

Dave gets a call from the principle's office, and Dirk finds a friend.

Notes:

In this fic, Dirk and the three other kids go to the same school.

"Bro, wake up, you're gonna make me late. Again." Dirk's persistent voice bringing you from the dead. Dead sleep, that is. You had been up all night mixing with your headset on, so consumed by the beats that you barely made it to the futon before collapsing and zonking out. The head phones were laying on the ground by the futon. At least they weren't damaged, those things cost almost a third of your paycheck. But it was worth it, the club headset was becoming shit and you don't mix with shitty headsets.

'Sorry kiddo I'm up I'm up just give me a second and we'll be out the door like a greased cat on linoleum' to which Dirk chuckled and backed off so you could get up fully and pull on a shirt. Aches and pains were accentuated today, probably due to collapsing on the futon, you really have to quit that. But would you truly? Nah. The tables were three rooms away from your bedroom and comfy bed, and the futon always ends up looking more inviting than the distance you have to trek.


 
'Got all your shit packed lil man' you ask Dirk as he shoves an orange in his bag. Dirk nods and shows you a smirk. He learned that look from you.


 
You both put on your sunglasses, you with your Ben Stiller aviators, and Dirk with his anime shades. Wiping both your faces of expression, you slide your feet in shoes, grab your wallet and car keys, and head out the door into the blindingly hot and bright white Texan morning.


 
'Fucking apples, it's not even nine' you say, and Dirk glances at you as you hop in the car. "It's supposed to get as hot as Satan's balls from here, Bro." Your mouth presses into a white line. You must be wimping out, because this heat was killing you today.


 
Driving, you two don't talk much, unless it's Dirk who does the talking. Considering your hands are occupied, you can't very well contribute to the conversation besides head movements and shrugging. Neither of you mind, and more often than not the drives are just made in companiable silence. Not just because you still need to get your radio fixed. You remember his face, stupid buck teeth blue eyes and black hair, nose all scrunched up as he laughed adorkably and scolded you to do so--


 
You swerve and grit your teeth. "Shit, Bro! What was that?" Dirk is looking at you from behind his shades with a wide eyed grimace. You glance at him and quirk an eyebrow as if to shake it off as 'just checking if you're awake'. Dirk did seem a bit distracted this morning, but then again, you can't say much since you're clamping down nervous jitters at the moment from the shock of a few moments earlier. You can tell Dirk rolled his eyes behind his shades and went back to looking out the window. Ten year olds can be a bit unamused, sometimes, apparently.


 
But the truth is, you don't know. Who the hell were you thinking about? You don't know anyone who looked like that. And as you wrack your brain, you can't find a name or remember anything else. If, that is, you are trying to remember someone.


 
Your mind's just playing tricks on you, you tell yourself.


--


Suddenly the phone is ringing, the shrill sounds cutting through your brain fog. Shit, you must have fallen asleep at the mixing table again. You slowly get up and amble over to the phone, sliding your socked feet across the carpet, way too groggy from just waking up to make more effort than that.


You answer the phone. Considering how you have no voice, you're glad that Dirk made a machine for you. You can type what you want to say on the keyboard he had hooked up, and the machine would speak to the phone in a voice that could be similar to what yours would sound like if you had one. (It was actually Dirk's voice recorded and pitched deeper, but it worked out marvelously).



"Hello?" You type and listen for the other person on the phone to respond.


"Hello, is this Dirk Strider's guardian I am speaking to?" It was a man's voice on the other end, a bit gravelly and superficial, with an unfamiliar posh accent.


"Yes, this is, who am I speaking to and why?"


"This is Dirk's principal, and well, there seems to have been a situation involving Dirk, and I would greatly appreciate you coming down to speak with me. Dirk is sitting outside of my office."


You grimace and wonder what the kid could've gotten into. "Okay, I'll be there in a few. Thanks for the call." 


The principal's response was curt. "Thank you, sir, see you soon."


You hang up and roll your eyes. Could the guy sound any more like a douche? God, honestly he sounded like such a tool. You hoped Dirk hadn't set a prank, not that that would be something Dirk would normally do, but you don't tag him as a prankster, much.



Not like John was, god he had the worst prank ideas and most of them he pulled on you. Sometimes he'd pull his newest prank on Jade, or Rose, but they always got a bit touchy when he did that, so he opted for you more often than not--

 

The hell? Where is this coming from? You rub your temples as a headache sets in. You walk to the bathroom to wash your face. Rubbing a hand over your face, you feel grooves your tables had made. Just great.



Drying off your face, you throw the towel onto the futon and head towards the door. You slip on your shoes and glasses and grab your keys. You get into your car yawning and drive like a granny down the street to get to Dirk's school. You're still not fully awake, and this headache is making you as grumpy as a........something that won't make sense in the long run. Jeez, you can't even think of bad comparisons right now.


You pull into the school parking lot and get out and start heading to the principal's office. Getting inside, you see Dirk as he looks up from where he's seated across the room. He has no shades on. Studying a second longer, you notice the slight bruising beginning on his cheek and the redness on his hands and a bleeding knuckle. Interesting. Dirk gets up and tells the secretary you're here and she dials a button to tell the principal. The principal peeks his head out of his office and motions you two inside.


"Please, have a seat, Mr. Strider," he says as he shakes your hand. The principal is a gruff man, polished and prissy in a very nice business suit more appropriate for a high-paying office job rather than on a principal of a middle school. Tch. Lame. He also happens to wear the worst smelling cologne, because you feel your headache send out a sharp spike of pain as you inhale.


After an awkward pause of him waiting for you to speak, Dirk gets the memo and translates for you as you sign. "So what's the deal here with my kid?" Dirk says, his orange eyes watching you out of his peripheral vision. The principal settles back against his chair, sighing. "Well, your kid was caught in the middle of a fight with another student. We don't take very kindly to violence on our premisis, you see." The principal heaved a heavy sigh, as if he was disappointed at Dirk's behavior.


"So, due to the circumstances and regulatory code, I must suspend Dirk for a week. He'll be missing class, but I've sent an email regarding homework with instructions to be ready by tomorrow moring to be picked up. Bit of a sad thing for one of our brightest students to miss school due to bad choices."



"What about the other kid? What's the whole story?" you have Dirk ask as you subtly rub at a temple.


"Well, I'm afraid neither would tell me the whole truth of why a fight broke out in these halls, which is why I'm wondering if you could figure it out so perhaps our school could do a better job at making our students behave. But rest assured, the other kid has been dealt with accordingly as well." What. A. Prick. Just the way the guy said things was offensive. Jeesh.


"Alright, I'll pick that up tomorrow for him, and deal with this," a pause as you motion at Dirk in between your sign language, "when we get home. Thank you for notifying me."


The principal got up to shake your hand again. "Thank you for coming in." And that was all he said before he p much shooed yours and Dirk's asses out of his office to make a phone call. You nod at the secretary as you grab Dirk by the shoulders in front of you and steer him outside to the car. The sunlight makes you wince as you step out into it, but you persevere.



The drive home is completely silent, and not the companiable type. The silence is smothering, so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw and have to switch out blades twice before even making a dent, that's how silent it is.



Both of you hop out of the car after you park in front of your apartment, and you unlock the door. As Dirk tries to slide past you to go hide in his room, you grab him by the arm firmly and stop him. His orange eyes bore into you as you gesture about. 'well are you going to tell me what shit went down at school that got you into a fight, or what'


Dirk's nose wrinkles, and he sighs before marching to the futon to curl up in a ball. You follow him and sit down beside him, shoving the towel from earlier off the side. You recognize what Dirk's doing. He's preparing himself to tell you what happened. You know not to push him to answer you before he's ready, so you abstain from poking his ticklish side. Instead you just sit there with him, waiting.



After about ten minutes, you hear a small sniffle. "They were picking on the new kid."


You frown slightly and settle back against the futon, sliding off your glasses to rub the bridge of your nose. Your headache was finally going away.


Dirk slowly sat up, but curled his arms around his legs, favoring his cheek to rest his chin on his knees. "He has an accent, and he's pretty awkward, but that shouldn't constitute as grounds for bullying, right? I mean, I thought he was cool, and he ended up sitting next to me and we talked about stuff." He pulled his legs tighter to his chest. "So I tried to talk them down from picking on him. But they wouldn't. And t-they..."


He lifts his head and looks over at you, his wide eyes reflecting with a sadness no kid his age should know. "They beat him up, Bro. And I got so angry. Really angry. I couldn't hide it. So I tackled the leader bully and started hitting him. Hitting him really hard. I've never done that before, Bro. Ever."



get up to get an icepack for his cheek and knuckles, some medicine and bandaids for the cuts, and a mug of chocolate milk. You used to always give him chocolate milk after something bad went down. Like the time he was four and took a topple down some stairs because he hadn't let you tie his shoes. 'warned you about the stairs bro', you'd told him.



 After you tend to his wounds, you sit down again and rub his back gently. He hiccups and rubs at his eyes. He glances at you, and then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out.....his shades. One of the arms of the framing was broken off. No wonder the kid hadn't been wearing his shades. You ruffle his hair and grab the glasses and the arm piece. 'we'll get that fixed tomorrow kid no worries'



You get up to make the call, but pause and glance back at Dirk. 'you did good kid' you tell him. 'you're not in trouble and i'm actually really proud of you'



Dirk rubs his nose and sniffles. 'also why don't you contact that new kid and have him come over tomorrow after he gets out of school' you add. 'we can pick him up when i go pick up your homework'



Dirk nods and gives you a genuine smile. "Thanks, Bro. You're the coolest."



You spend the rest of your night slaving away over your mixing tables, and Dirk spends his watching a soap opera he'd gotten into at random. When he nods off on the futon, you let him have it. He's getting too heavy to carry, anyways. Little shit's been eating a lot lately. So, instead, you lift his head to place a pillow there and cover him with a blanket. Then you shuffle down the hall to your room and collapse on your under-used bed and fall immediately into a fitful sleep that you had desperately needed.

Notes:

Exciting, i know, right
so sorry about how late this chapter is being posted but i had major writers block on how to get some of this chapter from inside my head onto the screen

i wont bother promising the next chapter at a specific time, but youll get your new chapter probably in a week or two, like this one....ill just say thats my pace on this.

And thank you for the 1000 hits right before i posted this, it was nice to see that^^

Chapter 8: Forgotten Nightmares

Summary:

Dave is having dreams. He doesn't want to sleep anymore because of them; they're a bit unsettling. Dirk's start of his first day of suspension.

Notes:

so sorry it took so long to update this, and i feel worse since it's so short of an update, but i promise this weekend ill sit down for like five hours and update this again with a longer chapter, love you guys, dont hate me adsfghggfgd

You're walking along the street, the night settling in around you quickly, street lamps lit up. You pull your jacket and red scarf snug around you as you set your pace at brisk.


For some reason, you walk faster. The wind blows past you and you suddenly notice a shadowy figure just ahead of you on the sidewalk.


Not knowing a reason why, you begin to pick up your pace. The figure does, too.


You fast walk, not caring how weird you look. You're not a creepy-ass stalker. You just suddenly have a major urge to catch up with the stranger figure ahead of you.


The figure speeds up some more. Your heart hammers as you start to jog. It seems as though the faster you move, the farther away the person is getting.


Getting frantic, you sprint as fast as you can to try to reach the figure. Fingers fully extended, arm outstretched as far as it can go. Your fingers brush the person's back, but finds no purchase. You stop, out of breath. You're spent. You come to a rest under a street lamp's light, gasping. You're so frustrated, you want to scream and cry. Maybe punch something.


You look up and see the figure has also stopped. He's standing just outside of the next lamp's light. His face is almost cast in shadow, but you catch the glint of sapphire blue eyes, and teeth that bite a lip to try to hide chuckling and a grin.


Then he vanishes, and you are left there with nothing.

 

--

 

You wake up in a sweat,thrash about, and knock something off your nightstand. It was the alarm clock. It clatters to the ground, making a loud noise. Dirk is in your doorway in a second, having learned to flashstep a long time ago. He was a quick learner.


"What fell?" he questions, rubbing at his eyes, which have large dark circles underneath, like he hadn't been to bed yet. It was four in the morning.

'just my clock why are you still up' you motion tiredly.

Dirk's mouth thins slightly. "No reason, Not going to school this week, anyways. I'll be in my room, Bro." He shuffles off, looking a bit disappointed and bored.


You nod and collapse back on your bed to try to remember the dream that had awoken you so violently. You can only remember a color. A brilliant blue. The rest of anything you try to remember unsettles you, so you stop thinking about it. You don't want to go back to sleep in fear of dreaming agian. Yes, you're afraid, grown men can be afraid. Even if it's unironic fear. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and shit, or whatever that chick sings on the radio at the grocery outlet.


Instead of going back to sleep or just laying there in bed, you decided to get up, work some more on your latest performance, quietly, that is, and then make breakfast for yourself and Dirk.

 

--

 

It's 8:00am by the time Dirk wanders out of his batcave again to the smell of food cooking. Not nuked food, that is. You normally just do leftovers, but Dirk wasn't looking too cheerful. And besides, you used to experiment and make really awesome food for  you and your own Bro. Taht sent a pang to your heart to remember, but you fought through the depressing thought to continue your cooking.


'sit your ass down' you half-ass motion, not looking up from the skillet you're meticulously flipping bacon in.


Finishing up with the bacon, you serve it on the plates that are also piled with pancakes, which has Nutella on the table waiting for it beside Dirk's place. Nutella's the shit, okay.

 

Making a spectacle of placing the plates on the table in a grand entrance, you plop down and dig in. You had decided to make your   apartment-famous spice pancakes, and man, have you missed eating these. You might just take up cooking again for the meals since you seem to have the bills under control and no one recognizes you right now. Your movies are being made on the DL, having been years since the last release. This newest one was different, though. It was still abstract like SB&HJ, but not so hard to decipher because of having no fucking clue what was going on, but rather that the underlying meaning of it was.....well, just for your mind to know, and others to ponder for how ever long.


Dirk is quiet as he eats. At one point, you notice his eyes droop, and you have to touch his shoulder to make sure he doesn't doing a hilarious faceplant into his pancakes, which are slathered with Nutella.


'whats going on lil man' you inquire once he's looking at you. 'what made you stay up so late last night'

 

Dirk clears his throat and shoves a bite of pancake into his mouth. Avoiding your eyes, he mumbles, "Friend. Chatting."

 

'is this friend you were chatting to the same one you defended yesterday'

He nods. "Uh, he's still allowed to come over after school, right?"

 

A corner of your mouth quirks. Dirk seems to have perked up a bit at the talk of his friend. 'duh we have to go pick him up in a few hours remember'

 

"Right, thanks, Bro." Dirk doesn't try to hide his smile.


'no problem dude' you ruffle his hair. It's wild without the gel to train it into it's usual daily style. 'upstairs in fifteen kid'

 

Dirk nods, full-out grinning now. Strifes are always a highlight to this kid's life. It's odd but also strangely gratifying. You wash your dishes and flashstep out of the room. Today was finally starting to be a good one.

Chapter 9: Downward Spiral

Summary:

The next adventure in Dirk's first day of school suspension. His friend comes over. Dave is having issues.

You're drying your hair after showering off the sweat and grime from fighting, and you glance at the clock.half hour until you got to go pick up Dirk's friend from school.

 

You hang the towel around your neck and saunter out of the bathroom, in just your jeans. You forgot a shirt, but whatever. Not like you've got ugly man titties or a beer gut. Nope. You've got the body of a twenty year old. Nice and toned.

 

Grabbing a bottle of apple juice on your way back to your room, yes you still drink that shit, its good shit, you hear odd clanging noises coming from Dirk's room. Curious, you peep through the cracked door. Technological pieces are strewn everywhere. Screws and wires and pieces of metal litter the floor.

 

You check around to try to determine where all these parts came from. You spot the decrepit car parts and spare pieces you'd had lying around at work from fixing cars as a side job. Fixing cars was nice, just not something you'd do for a living. You volunteered at the automechanics to keep your mind off things.

 

It was also a great workout.

 

You open the door wider to find Dirk in the center of all the pieces, a piece laying across his lap as he worked on taking out screws and removing wires.

 

You knock on the door frame, startling Dirk out of his concentration on whatever the hell he's doing. 'whats up'

 

"Uh, I was just borrowing these parts, I can put them back if it's necessary, i'm just experimenting. I mean. I, um." Dirk stumbles over his words a bit, which is unusual.

 

You shake your head and smirk. 'no worries not using that shit again have at it'

 

And with that, you pushed off the door frame, on which you'd been leaning, and walked to your room, grabbed a shirt, and pulled it on. You weren't bothered by Dirk tearing apart electronics and taking old car parts to experiment with. A hobby is a hobby, and when you're a kid, hobbies are wonderful things to do.

 

It's better than him getting into drugs or shit that can fuck you up for life.

 

You alternately listen to Dirk tinker away and make a grocery list for tomorrow. Soon, it's time to go pick up Dirk's friend, so you knock on his door and point at his clock. He jumps up eagerly and flashsteps over to his shoes.

You grab your wallet and keys, slip on your sunglasses, and open the door. Dirk fast walks out to the car and jiggles the doorhandle impatiently. You both get in and are on your way. Dirk is uncharacteristically vibrating in the passenger seat. You're happy to see him in such a good mood.

--

 

As you pull up to the school, you try to scope for the kid. Following Dirk's eyes, you catch a glimpse of black hair. Dirk hops out and flashsteps over to a boy, with black hair, tan shorts on, a green button down shirt open over a white tshirt, and hiking boots.

 

As they near the car, you double take. The boy has a slight overbite, and suddenly you're remembering a boy who wore a goofy smile, had black, wildly flippy hair, and glasses. This boy wore glasses, square framed. Just like the other had.

 

John? You mouth, but when you look at his eyes as they meet yours, they are not blue. They're green. You try your best to hide your sudden rush of disappointment as the boys get into the car.

"Bro, this is Jake. Jake, this is my Bro."

 

Jake shook your hand awkwardly as you tried for a fist bump. "Good day to you, Mr. Strider!"

 

You wince and nod, and then say to Dirk 'tell him its either Dave or Bro'

 

Dirk tells Jake so, and Jake smiles goofily and says, "Good day to you, Dave!"

 

Wow. What a polite fellow.

 

He seems to remind you of someone. It's on the tip of your tongue. It'll come to you sometime.

 

--

 

The three of you tromp into the apartment. Dirk and Jake immediately go about the place, Jake occasionally saying things like "golly!" And "whoa!" Then they head to Dirk's room and shut the doors.

 

You follow and stop outside the door. You knock and Dirk opens it. You tell him dinner's at six. He gives you a small smile and continues his adventure with Jake, who has a car part in his hands and is saying "wow!" repeatedly, as if it's really that fascinating.

 

You wander off to your own room and sit down at your computer to check your emails.

 

--

 

It's been 2 days, and you haven't slept. You can't sleep. You don't want to dream. Because when you dream, you have nightmares. You can live without those.

 

You've taken up drinking coffee in the morning. And at night.

 

--

 

Five days have passed, and Dirk is noticing a slight change in you.

 

You now hide behind your sunglasses all the time. Before, it had been because of your eye color and sensitivity to sunlight, and it also added to the famous glitz.

 

Now, you wore them to hide the dark circles.

 

--

 

Day seven. It's been a week. A week without sleep.

 

You've resorted to energy drinks. You rarely eat. You don't really feel hungry, and you forget otherwise.

 

You got involved with remodeling the cars on the car lot where you work sometimes. It keeps your mind off things. You also throw yourself into your music.

 

Dirk is back in school. He and Jake have no trouble from anyone anymore. You're glad about that.

 

It's hard for you to concentrate on things for very long. You always have to be doing something, otherwise you just twitch.

 

--

 

Day fifteen.

 

Half a month has gone by, and you've stopped eating all together. You cling to energy drinks like they're your life. You've been seeing and hearing things no one else seems to. Even Dirk has noticed something's severely wrong.

 

You hear a ticking clock in your head no matter where you go.

 

You freak out and shy away from knitting needles and fiction books.

 

You can't stop looking at the stars.

 

A breeze haunts you, even when the windows are all closed and no fan is on.

 

--

 

Day 18. You snapped at Dirk today. He had made you some food, but you'd shoved it away, and when he pushed it back towards you, you 'yelled' at him, arms and fingers flying around at such a wild and angry speed you see Dirk's face drain a little.

You don't apologize.

 

Striders don't snap at people. You're unpredictable, and clumsy. You throw yourself so much into your car fixing and music making and little things you do that you're being told to take time off.

 

You can't do that, so you work on your own car.

 

You fix your radio, listening to the nagging voice complaining jokingly about how the radio never worked.

 

Then you tear it out.

 

--

 

Day 21.

 

Your bedroom door slams open. Dirk stands in your doorway. He's pissed.

 

"I'm tired of this! You're not yourself, Bro!" Dirk stomps in and stands by your desk where you are seated, staring blankly at him. He yanks off your head phones and slams your laptop closed.

 

"You haven't even been civilized enough to come out of here for more than a second, if at all! You're twitchy, and you aren't eating right, if you even eat. And don't tell me otherwise, I see how skinny you've gotten, I can see your ribs! And those sunglasses hide nothing. You haven't been sleeping for who knows how long." Dirk leveled his eyes with yours. "This is enough, Bro. I'm more than done!"

 

He yells some more, his fists hitting the desk on certain words. Your hearing rings, and your vision blurs slightly.

 

Dirk's almost crying now. "I just....want my Bro back."

 

You try to get up, to hug him, to do anything, but when you stand, you can't find your balance.

 

Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. You feel light headed.

 

You try to do something, anything, but your vision blackens, and next thing you know, you fall. After that, you don't know what happened.

 

--

 

Dirk sits by a hospital bed. The heart beat monitor beeps a steady rhythym, Dave's chest rises and falls periodically.

 

Nothing else moves. It doesn't look like he's waking up anytime soon.

 

Jake comes in and pulls Dirk away and out of the room gently.

 

Dave has another visitor.

 

The visitor walks into the room slowly. He carefully takes the seat Dirk had just vacaded. He's older, with his hair graying in some places already.

 

Timidly, the man reaches out his hand and takes Dave's limp one in his own. It's so quiet, it's almost as if the world is holding its breath for them.

 

"Long time no see, old bud. Wish I could hear one of your raps again."

Notes:

Okay, I suppose I should explain some of this.
I will explain what's going on in a hell of a lot more detail in the next chapter.

Chapter 10: Reflection

Summary:

A history lesson comes into play.

On the other side of the moon, a base held countless numbers of trolls. These trolls were hidden from society, not because of just the acceptance into the new world, but because they were an unstable element to the delicate balance of the world's human/troll community and government. The world below had almost no clue that the number of trolls on the planet was only about a quarter of the whole troll population.

But the characteristic detail about humans is that they were easily intimidated. Humans have to have control. They fact about their nature wasn't exactly complacent with the hope of the planet's inhabitants, but a compromise was successfully accepted and withheld to today.

Unfortunately, in the past, the acclimation of trolls into human culture was rough. Insanely so. Like colored, imigration, and gay rights, trolls were on the extreme end of the scale when they were introduced to the humans.

There were riots, and violence, and hate crimes against the newer species. Young grubs were massacred, troll manners were disrespected, their hives ransacked right after construction. And yet, the trolls held their ground. They tried their best to not fight back, to not succumb to their murderous nature. The highbloods had the hardest time finding a way to fit in and stay sane. Of course, there were always going to be casualties. Trolls are a volatile species, and any thing could set them off. Of course the humans were going to tip the scale and send the trolls onto the defense, violate them enough to bring them to the point of not being able to do anything but fight back. The trolls retaliated, they played the offense in the fight. Every human against troll. The government got so involved, there was a revolt, and war consumed the coutries over the planet.

Then the humans had the nerves to take trolls as slaves.

Highbloods raged across the nations, killing any human that came even close to where they stood. Lowbloods still tried to fight more peacefully, but when a well-known troll's matesprit was killed in cold blood, the lowbloods joined in with the highbloods, working together to make the humans take a step back.

At the point of the world war that made a threat of nuclear warfare, the humans ceased to fight, and the trolls stood their ground, watching in caution. The humans' fallen government made a compromise on the night of the nuclear threat. The new government would be a council, made of eaqual numbers of troll, both high and low blooded, and humans.

The trolls accepted, and the world's turmoil became an underground tension.

It took years, decades, centuries of working at equality, for troll rights, and finally, the present day, trolls took jobs and rode the bus, and lived almost completely peacefully alongside humans.

But the many trolls stuck on the moon base, they were not too happy of the arrangement.

---

Karkat Vantas could feel the tension physically in the air of the base as he wandered through the halls, keeping an eye on his comrades. Many of these trolls were veterans of The War of the Species. After so many years of living up here, the words spoken in hushed whispers in the dead of the night had gotten bolder, louder, and more plainly spoken in the day time.

Karkat knew his fellow trolls spoke of a rebellion. The trolls were uneasy, and irritated. Moirails were even having trouble calming their counterparts. They all pretty much avoided one another in case of a strike out of violence. It was better to be safe than sorry. Or dead.

Karkat walked to the mess hall, grabbed a tray of the usual shitty food served, and sat down at a table to eat and think.

An oliveblood pounced on the seat beside him, and he barely glanced up before settling back to eat another bite.

"Hello, Purrrrrkat! What a convenient time to see you right meow!" Nepeta was probably one of the only trolls who were still in a decent mood.

"What do you want, Nepeta?" Karkat growled.

"Only to speak with you about some impurrtant information," she replied, wiggling a little in her seat, her blue robotic tail twitching behind her.

He glanced up at her. "Well, spit it out then, I don't have all day," he mumbled. "Oh, wait, I forgot we're stuck on this base. Nevermind, I guess I unfortunately do."

Nepeta giggled and placed her chin on her hand. "You've heard the talk, right? What evfuryone is saying?"

He nodded and rolled his eyes.

"Well, beclaws of that, the elders are deciding to do something about it!"

Karkat narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean? Don't tell me they think a second war is necessary, because it sure as fuck isn't."

"No, that would terrible! No, no, they don't mean war. We're finding another planet!"

 

Karkat's jaw dropped. Another planet? But where? He had been teasing the idea in his head for quite some time, but he couldn't seem to find a suitable planet in the night sky so far.

"Actually, they've already found one, but we need to build ships to get everyone there!"

Karkat's jaw dropped further, unbelievably. A new home. That was possible now. That'll shock the system.

Notes:

I feel kinda horrible for such a long delay between chapters :( school has been stressing me out, but here's this note to reassure you that I'm still updating this fic! My updates will probably be at odd times, but hopefully ill start cranking them out again :) thank you for patiently waiting for my chapters, I really appreciate it!