Disclaimer: so very not mine.
Author's Notes: ...NO I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO ME EITHER.
Dedications: To Evil-Pixie-Dust, because she is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, and to eiznek-lee-relle for betaing this for me! It does involve pesterchum, so if you'd rather read it with proper text and things like that, you miiiiiiight want to take a gander at it over on AO3
Chapter 1 - On the Road
EB: ha, yeah. i'm going to go now, though. dad's saying something about shopping again, ugh.
TG: if he gets anymore cooking supplies send the cakes my way im fucking hungry
TG: bro cant always be trusted to restock the fridge with anything other than shitty swords and smuppet ass
TG: im being serious man if he makes cake send it to me
EB: man, I hope he doesn't. too many baked goods. too little time.
TG: fight the evils of the batterwitch bro
TG: you can do it
EB: alright, alright, dave, I'll talk to you later.
TG: see you egbert
- - ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:57 - -
That is the last thing you heard from John.
Later was apparently a month ago, and by this point, you're about to climb the walls of your small apartment in frustration. A month of radio silence from John isn't something that occurs naturally, John doesn't shut up and he definitely doesn't leave you alone. (And no, you haven't been messaging him almost every day since then, shut up, it isn't you who initiates all of the conversations between you two.)
Oh man, you're going to ignore your own internal narration right there. Shit's just embarrassing. You just… You wonder what happened to the kid. You're worried, if you really want to get technical about it, which you don't. It's just not like him.
You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, biting it bloody as you stare at your screen. You wouldn't admit to watching Pesterchum for John to show up, but that's what you're doing. Hell, that's all you're doing. You're not even working on a new Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comic. You flex your fingers on the keyboard, wondering if maybe this time he'll answer when you pester him.
The console dings.
You'll deny it to your dying day, but you start at the sudden noise, check the name with your heart pounding high in your throat and-
-It's Rose.
You are almost disappointed. Not enough to not answer, but still. It stings a little.
- - tentacleTherapist[TT] began pesteringturntechGodhead [TG] at 19:12 - -
TT: Dave, I see that you are online yet again. Thankfully not during school hours for once.
TG: not now lalonde I really dont need this
TG: wait no maybe you can...
TG: rose i need a favor
TT: Well, this is unusual. Normally, your attempts at coercion tend to involve a greater amount of subtlety.
TG: not right now okay
TG: johns not answering anything ive been doing i dont know whats wrong
TT: ...Yes, his silence has me worried as well. It is unlike him to not answer when he is pestered for this length of time.
TT: What is your plan of action?
TG: i was hoping youd have one to be honest...
TG: wait
TG: do you know what his phone number is
TT: ...Not yet. But I shall in a few minutes.
TG: alright
You tap your fingers anxiously on the keyboard, your toes curling and flexing inside your sneakers. What if something has happened to him? What if he's… You take a deep breath. No, Egbert can't be dead. There's no way he's just... gone. You'd know, right?
The thought catches up with you a second later, and you barely resist the urge to slam your forehead into your palm. (You do roll your eyes at yourself anyway, despite the painful twist the idea drags through you.) God, what the hell idea was that? That was the dumbest thing. He lives in Washington, you live in Texas, there isn't some kind of freaky soul-bond between the two of you. You wouldn't feelit or some shit like that.
Nothing from Rose yet. Leaning back in the chair, you stare intently up at the ceiling through your shades, focusing on the minute details of the textured surface tinted dark.
What are you going to do if it is something serious? You're in Texas. You're a three, possibly four day drive from him -not like you could make the drive on your own anyway. Are you just going to have to sit here and wait? You decide as you're biting your nails that it depends on what the issue is, and what the hell is taking Rose so long?
Almost in answer to your thoughts, your Pesterchum dings an alert.
TT: You are in luck, Strider. Through means I am not going to elaborate on here, I have obtained his phone number.
TG: id ask but right now i dont actually care
TG: give me the number
You scramble for your phone while Rose is writing; you can't disregard the tremors in your hands, not when you have to pick your phone up at least three times before you have a steady hold on it.
"Shit," you murmur shakily, dragging a hand through your hair. "Shit shit shit."
TT: Calm down, David. I can feel your panic all the way over here.
TG: fuck you lalonde just give me the damn number already
TG: dude seriously wtf you waiting for
TG: lalonde
TG: hey pay attention fucknuts come on
TG: no seriously you flighty broad what the fuck are you doing thats taking so long
TG: rose
TG: rose seriously
TT: My apologies. Here it is.
You add the number to your contacts, go to dial it...
And nothing. God, your hands are shaking way too fucking much for this. He's your friend, isn't he? Haven't heard from him in a month (which is still fucking weird) but you and John are tight. Very tight. Tight enough for it to not be all that strange for you, a person he's never actually met before, to call him up to make sure he's okay, right?
Right, totally. Not strange at all.
You take a deep breath.
Calling: JOHN EGBERT (dudebro4lyfe or some shit like that)
…
…
…
Fuck how many times is this damn thing going to ring before John picks up? You resist the urge to start pacing because you're cool, damn it, pacing isn't allowed.
(You pace anyway. No one's around to see you lose even the slightest bit of your cool, except maybe Li'l Cal, but he's a bro, he understands.)
It goes to voicemail.
That doesn't make you feel any better, the twisting pounding of your heart making you dizzy with nerves. You shake your head, press the call button again because damn it, he is not going to evade you for any longer than he already has. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri—click. Your heart leaps into your throat, strangling you.
"Hello?" Someone says hesitantly. You swallow heavily, once, twice before you are able to speak to him, because damn it you know without a doubt that this is John.
"Hey, Egbert."
There's a pause. Then, shakily, disbelievingly, John asks, "…Dave? Is… Is that you?"
You laugh, a corner of your mouth quirking up. "Yeah dude, who the hell else would it be? You got some other ladies on the side? I thought we agreed that we were a solo thing."
A weird noise, something like the mix of a laugh and a relieved sob, comes from down the line. "You… You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you. How the hell did you get this number?"
"Shenanigans," you snort, like it's obvious.
"Of course. Can't be anything else like the marvelous Dave Strider getting worried about little ol' John Egbert, right?"
"Yeah, speaking of which, dude, where the fuck have you been? Pesterchum is so silent without your raging manboner for Nic Cage's face."
A beat of silence. For an instant you wonder if you've gone too far, but then you hear John clear his throat awkwardly. "Well, about that. Ahahah... Um. Well. This... aaaugh, this is going to sound so weird, Dave, I swear."
You snort. "Let me be the judge of that. Now what's up? Why haven't I seen you online for an entire month?"
A soft coo and a muttered "I knew you cared" comes from the other end and you roll your eyes at John. But then he goes silent again, coughs, swallows, and Christ, his breath is shaking; you can hear it through the phone. "...Dave, I can't get online because I can't see."
"What, like you broke your glasses? Come on dude, isn't your dad wallowing in the monies? A month is a little long to-"
"No, no ..." And he swallows again. Only this time, you think you hear him sniffle. Is he... crying? Man, that thought is more terrifying than it should be. "No, Dave, I can't see anything.
"I went blind."
There is a terrible moment where you expect him to laugh and tell you that he is joking, oh man has he got you good, gullible as always huh Dave, but no, no no, there's only his breathing and yours and eventually it has to break; you have to say, "...really?"
It comes off harsh and disbelieving and you wince, but there's no taking it back now. John makes a noise again (shit he's sobbing, fuck damn it what are you supposed to do at times like this), voice watery as he replies, "Trust me, Dave, I wish I was pranking you too."
"... what the hell happened, man? Last time I checked, you could still see."
"A-Apparently we got into a car crash. Someone just..." and you clench the phone so tightly that you hear it creak in your hand as John takes a shaky breath on the other side of the phone, "Just... ran into us. When I woke up again, I couldn't see." He sniffs, makes a pathetic whimpering sound that was supposed to be a laugh. "Still can't, I guess. That was about a month ago. You were the last person I talked to before … this."
You tap your fingers against your leg. Shit, you should have called him before this. You are his best bro for crying out loud. Forget the distance, the second two days passed, you should have been up there with him, ninja-ed all up into his hospital room.
"Cut that out, Dave."
"Cut what out, dude?" you ask dryly, the too-tight too-casual tone of your voice belying how tightly your hands are twisted into the rough denim of your jeans.
John snorts. "The worrying, you mother hen. I'm fine, okay? I've been out of the hospital for over three weeks now!"
You tap your toes, turn, avoid Li'l Cal's curious gaze. "How's your dad doing?"
"…Uh, well. He… The car…. He didn't…." John's voice, which had started to clear up, thickens and you can almost hear the idiot choking back more tears. You close your eyes in sympathy, your entire being aching to be over in Washington with him. You are useless to him here.
"…Sorry to hear it, bro."
He inhales shakily, whispers, "Yeah, yeah, I… I am too," and fuck his voice is so pitiful. You wrap your free arm around yourself tightly, your existence narrowed down to the point of contact between your ear and your phone.
"Lemme know if there's anything I can do, okay?"
"Of course."
Something occurs to you. "Wait wait, your Dad is… gone, and you are… where exactly?"
"At home," he answers, voice watery.
Your eyes narrow. "…Is anyone there with you?"
"…No?"
"What the fuck do you mean no? You're blind and alone in that house?"
"W-Well, not exactly?" John replies carefully. "I mean, my uncle checks in on me, and he's the one who footed the hospital bill, and he brings groceries by sometimes so I can eat? He takes care of me-"
Because leaving a blind guy alone in a house by himself when he's just lost his dad is so considerate.
"-so I've been fine, really."
You sigh and narrow your eyes. "That's pretty fucking neglectful, dude. This guy seems sketchy as shit. He should be there with you, you know, checking up on you and the like."
"… he's busy?" John offers weakly.
"Yeah don't even. Bro pays more attention than this dude does, and Bro's not even always here." There's a slight shuffling noise behind you, but hey, you figure that's probably Li'l Cal making himself more comfortable. "Do I… Is there anything I can do?"
John sighs. "I don't know. I… I'll let you know if I think of anything?"
You nod even though he can't see you (haa, oh man, that's not going to be cool to think anymore). "You'd better."
Silence reigns for a long few seconds, both of you just listening almost desperately to the other breathe. But eventually, John inhales shakily. "I gotta go, Dave, okay? I have to make my way back to the bedroom. I'll take the phone with me, so feel free to call later, alright?"
"Yeah, I will."
"Alright then." Another pause, and you lower the phone, thinking that he must have hung up, but no, the screen still says you are connected. You raise it up in time to hear him whisper, "I really wish you were here, Dave."
You swallow hard, the sudden lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "Same, Egbert."
"…"
"…"
"…Alright, I should go. I'll… I'll talk you later."
"Yeah. I'll call you later." The line goes dead and you slowly lower the phone from your ear.
Blind.
He hasn't been online because he's been blinded. And he's all alone (which is such bullshit, family protects family, Bro's taught him that much, John's uncle is shit) in a huge house that probably reeks of his now-deceased Dad, and absolutely no one is looking out for him. What you wouldn't give to be in Washington right now. But you're not. You sigh heavily, the breath shuddering out from you, and open your eyes.
Bro is right in front of you.
You startle backwards, just barely restraining your shriek. You're almost certain that the flinch was the only thing that gave away your surprise. Seeing straight through your poker face, he chuckles, standing up straight. "What's up, little dude?" he asks.
Shrug. "Eh, you know, not much, just a friend in distress etcetera etcetera. Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about."
"We all know how much worry makes me wrinkle, and you do keep bitching about the smell of my anti-aging creams." Bro claps you on the shoulder before his expression and body language somehow sobers. "Now really, what's going on?"
There's a brief, insane moment where you debate not telling him, but it's brief and definitely insane. "I… John and his dad got in a car accident about a month ago."
"About the time I actually started seeing you around the apartment! I just thought you and your internet girlfriend had a fight or something."
"Dude, you know that I talk mostly to Egbert."
He snorts, and you mentally face-palm because fuck you walked right into whatever he's about to say. "Yeah, exactly what I said."
"Whatever. Point is, John's dad died in the accident, and John isn't able to see for some reason. And his shit family is just throwing money at him without paying attention to anything he actually fucking needs, and he's all alone in Washington and I've never hated being in the infernal furnace that is Texas more." You take a deep breath. You know that you've busted out some rhymes that have taken up more time than that, so why the hell are you so out of breath?
Bro's hand ruffles your hair. You fuss at it until it is back in its proper place, swallow hard. There is a long moment where Bro is just standing next to you, not doing anything (and hell, it's almost kind of nice, even if it is weirding you out a bit) but then he slaps you on the back. "Well, tough luck, kid. Looks like I can expect you around even less than usual."
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, like you're one to talk. I don't know, Bro, it just… he shouldn't be alone." He really shouldn't. Egbert is a menace to himself on the best of days, and you can't stand the idea of him being alone and blind, because it's John, he probably can't navigate and he's just going to get hurt. Someone should be there for him. You should be there for him.
You bite the inside of your lip as a crazy idea occurs to you.
"What is it, little dude? That's your thinking-of-serious-shit face."
Maybe, just maybe… "Bro, how difficult would it be for us to move up to Washington and … look after him?"
…
Holy shit, you just made Bro's eyes widen. You mentally mark this day down as one of the rare days where you have broken his nigh-on impenetrable poker face.
Wetting your lips (because he's silent, just watching you, and that means you have to back it up), you explain, "Egbert's helpless in a house that reminds him of his dead dad, his uncle is neglecting him, and he's like family to me. Come on, Bro. Family looks out for family. Above everything else."
He scoffs, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I'm sure he's juuust like family to you." But he hasn't said no yet, you notice. He just looks like he's trying to make a decision. You're waiting on tenterhooks for a few minutes before he nods to himself and slaps you on the shoulder. "Alright, little dude, get ready for bed."
You wish you knew what that meant, but the rest of your attempts to talk to him either end up with Bro flash-stepping away or in strife with the two of you flinging assorted weaponry at each other. You suppose that's close enough to getting ready for bed and give up in disgust.
'Well, I gave it a shot,' you think as you flip your covers up over your head, disgruntled.
Sleep does not come easily that night. Your mind is full of the thought of John, alone in the dark, and you toss and turn until finally, you slip over the edge of unconsciousness.
Bro's face right in yours is the first thing you see in the morning. Immediately, you grab your shades, growling out, "Alright what do you want, Bro?"
"What, no good morning? Shit man, I've taught you better than that."
You roll your eyes. "Good morning, you ass, now tell me what you want."
He sits back, crossing his arms. "Pay attention, little dude. What's different this morning?"
"Noth-"
It's about that point when you notice that your room is fucking bare. The bed is pretty much the only thing left untouched in the entire place.
"-ing?" You rub at your face and blame your sudden wakefulness for how slow you are at realizing what's going on. "…Bro, I don't get it."
Bro sighs, shakes his head. "Yeah, thought as much. Come on and get in the car, we're going to Washington."
Your heart pounds loud in your throat, and you stare wide-eyed at your bro. "…Really?"
"Your lady-friend needs us, doesn't he?" Bro barely waits for you to get out of your bed before he strips all the covers off, folding them swiftly. "You said it yourself. Family doesn't leave family hanging. We're the closest thing that he's got, considering that he really doesn't have anyone other than his dumbass uncle." He scoffs under his breath, and you're sure that he's rolling his eyes behind his shades - he has that particular twist to his mouth. "That guy needs to be schooled on proper parenting. Now, get in the car, little dude. It's going to be a long few days."
Throat tight, you nod. "Hey, Bro?" you offer once you're fairly certain that your voice won't crack.
He pauses, halfway out of the room already.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Three days later, you have seen more of Kansas and Wyoming and every other intervening state than you ever wanted to. Endless rolling hills of wheat and hills and mysteriously invisible sheep (seriously, for a state that is reputed to have so many sheep, you don't see a fucking one. At that point, you and Bro are so bored that you start speculating about the existence of dragons in Wyoming because there is no other fucking explanation for the lack of sheep) and you're so tired of hills and driving and scrunching your growing, awkward body into the backseat to sleep.
Bro pulls into a gas station near Seattle in the golden light of sunset, stretches as he fills up the tank again. Leaning back, you prop your feet up on the dash, flex your toes absently. Something taps at the window, and you absently open the door to talk to Bro.
"Do you even know exactly where he lives?" he asks, head tilted down enough that you can see the molten orange of his irises. "I kinda don't want to be kipping out in the back of the car again."
Huh, you can't believe you forgot about that. "Lemme ask Rose."
You pull out your phone as Bro hums an agreement and goes to finish up paying for gas.
- - turntechGodhead[TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:48 - -
TG: lalonde
TG: lalonde come on answer
TG: come on surely wizard fanfiction isnt keeping you that occupied
TG: unless it is
TG: which really isnt something i wanted to think about especially since youre my cousin
TG: rose seriously what the hell
TG: cmon surely you can spare some time from your gay wizard porn and mom-hunting to give a dude an address
TG: are you really that engrossed
TG: i swear you are worse than a cat chasing an errant moth around the house you just cannot give up
TT: Strider, what in the world are you doing?
TG: what can't a guy want an address without being questioned anymore
TT: Whose address are we talking about here?
TG: johns
TT: Then no, this is not going to slip by without questioning.
TG: dude i am not up for another conversation about dicks okay
TT: Interesting that you bring up phalluses without prior prompting. I barely have to think at all about the implications of that.
TG: rose
TT: Very well, let me consult my sources.
By this point, Bro has finished with gas and is tapping intricate beats on the steering wheel, but he sighs in relief and starts driving once you relay the address to him. "Fucking finally," he groans, rubbing one hand behind his shades. "Can't wait to sleep on a real couch."
You tilt your head in agreement and keep pestering Rose.
TT: Now, David, what in the world are you doing? The last I heard from you was three days ago when you asked for John's number.
TT: And now you're asking for his house address? It all seems rather suspicious. And worrying.
TT: David, where are you?
TG: definitely not in washington thats for surebr / TT: ...
TG: ...
TT: I knew it. What's going on with John?
TG: nothing i want to talk about right now
TG: i barely even know myself okay ill let you know when i figure it out
TG: right now i am about as lost as a wee baby lamb who fell off the side of a cliff into an endless labrynthine abyss
TG: i am bleating for help but no one is coming in to save me
TG: and it just keeps getting darker and colder and eventually i will die down here
TG: lost and confused and totally alone
TG: the only way i could be more confused is if i wasnt as awesome as i am
TT: I see. Bro's with you, then.
TG: dude of course
TG: i still dont have that whole 'license' thing and he probably wouldnt have let me drive on my own
TG: this drives been fucking murderous though
TG: if i see another cornstalk anytime between now and the inevitable implosion of the world due to the combined shenanigans of this countrys opinionated asshats it will be too fucking soon
TG: fucking corn
TG: dont read into that
TT: Too late, David my dear.
You let the corner of your mouth twitch up as the car shudders alarmingly to a stop. Bro only shrugs when you shoot him a questioning look.
"What, it's an old car. We're here, so go on and tell your girl that we made it while I unload the car."
"That stopped being funny when we were still up to our armpits in cornstalks," you grouse, but god, stretching your legs out feels so good that you almost forgive him. He waves a hand in your periphery, sauntering towards the trunk of the car. Taking a deep breath, you look towards the door.
The house is … larger than what you're used to living in. The slime-pogo that John's told you about so many times makes you smile to yourself –and you blithely (nervously) ignore the fact that you're stalling. When you start wondering what kind of tree is in the front yard, you give up and make your way to the front door, hands clenched carefully in your pockets.
(It seems like an interminably long distance. The front landing stretches on forever, taking more steps than it should to cross.)
It's just John.
It's just John.
It's just (hah, yes, because John-anything is just John) your best friend. Your friend, your compatriot your… John.
You can be there for him. You have to be, because no one else is anymore, and he'd do it for you, you're sure. Taking a deep breath to steady the sudden thud-thud of your heart, you knock on the door. The wait is interminable, but you eventually hear the soft thuds of someone walking, and by the sound of it, someone pretty unsteady on their feet. You shift your weight, slouch just that bit more, and-
-The door opens.
A dark-haired boy stands on the other side.
He's smaller than you expect; that's the first thing that strikes you. That and the fact that he's still wearing his glasses and he's staring sightlessly at something over your right shoulder. His hair is irreparably tousled, and his glasses are askew - and that confuses you for a second before you remember that the force of habit is strong and difficult to resist. One hand is fisted tightly, nervously, in the front pocket of his blue hoodie. (Your heart, currently racing, calms a little bit, because he's not seriously injured other than his blindness. You had been so worried that maybe he just hadn't mentioned anything else.)
"Hello?" he asks, confused, and you realize that you still haven't spoken yet, which is... probably freaking him out a little.
"Christ, Egbert, you that surprised about your best bro being here?" you joke, throat tight.
The incredulous expression on his face makes your eyes prick and you're stupidly grateful that Bro is getting shit from the car right now because otherwise, you'd never hear the end of it. "...Dave?" he whispers.
"Well duh. Unless you have other best bros that you've failed to mention. Shit man, now I feel like a re-gifted package from someone else that you accepted to be nice but never intended to pull back out of the closet. Way to go, Egbert, way to make a bro feel apprecia-huurk!"
John throws himself at you, a little too far to the right, ruining the smooth flow of your words. He is small and shaking and in your arms, and you pet his head softly, holding him back just as tightly as he's holding on to you.
"Why are you here?" he asks, voice muffled by your chest.
You're about to answer, but you're interrupted by the rap of knuckles against the back of your head. "Family doesn't desert family," Bro answers him, patting John's shoulder, making the dark-haired boy look up, startled and wide-eyed. "We're about the next best thing, so suck it up and deal."
"W-was that-?" John asks as Bro flash-steps past him. There's a loud crash as he drops all the shit he was holding and John winces, half-turning to hear him better. "Are- Is he okay?"
You look past him, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, he's fine. Just setting everything up in typical Strider fashion."
"Loud and obnoxious?"
"More like suave as shit and you know it."
John's mouth twitches into a smile that starts small and just gets larger. "Sure, let's go with that." He hasn't moved outside the circle of your arms -not like you're about to bring it up because jesus shit, it is so good to see him and know that he's alright; his fingers are curled into the hem of your shirt. "Suave. I c-can't-."
"Why are there buckets of water all around this place?" Bro yells and John's smile turns embarrassed.
"Hehe, well, I didn't want anyone sneaking up on me, and I couldn't exactly put them up on top of doors? So putting them everywhere sorta made sense, I guess."
Bro shrugs, picks them up and moves them. "Not gonna need them anymore, but wise thinking. C'mon, little dude, help me turn this place into an appropriate Strider abode."
You side-eye John for a second before grabbing him by the elbow and tugging him in the direction of the stairs. "Sit down while we work, okay?"
Reluctantly, he lets go of your shirt and fumbles around until he sits heavily on the bottom step, legs curled up to his chest. You barely resist the urge to pet his head as he cocks his head towards the living room, listening to the mess your brother is probably making. Sighing, you slouch off to help him.
In a whirlwind of a few hours, minus a break for pizza, you and Bro are moved in. Bro has set up his typical nest around the couch. You're helping John into bed, taking off his glasses, checking to make sure that his shirt is on the right way, giving in and stroking his hair. With a relieved sigh, John sinks into the bed, locks of dark hair spilling messily against his pillow. Hesitantly, he pats the side of the bed as you turn off his lamp (you don't bother telling him that he's a few inches off). You sit, still touching him on his shoulder so he knows where you are.
"I… I didn't think you'd show up." His hands twist in the bedsheets, and he smiles blindly up at you. "I just… thank you."
Your throat is thick with things you want to say –you're welcome, of course I came for you, what the hell else was I supposed to do- but you just hum slightly, nod. The backs of your fingers brush down his cheek, making his eyes close, and you think just maybe, maybe he's content. "Anytime," you finally utter. And then you stand, suddenly uncomfortable. "Alright, sleep. We've been up too long already."
Hurrying to the door, you try to escape before the words in you just billow out in ways you don't want them to. You're stopped by John's voice, soft and lost.
"I'm glad you're here, Dave."
You take a deep breath and smile at him in the darkness of the room, hand fisted tightly around the door frame. He can't see and you can't see, and this is almost like even footing or as close as you're going to get. "Yeah," you sigh, breath-soft. "Me too."
"G'night, Strider."
"…Night, Egbert."
The door swings shut behind you. You clench your shaking hands –he's okay, he's fine, not dead, not hurt, calm down already- and let out a heavy breath.
"Me too."
.end chapter 1.
I have no idea what happened, okay, it was like I blinked and suddenly, there was Homestuck fic.
Reviews, as always, are appreciated and responded to! (If you have any suggestions about characterization as well, I'll gladly take it. I know my character voices are still a little shaky.)