So. . .um. . .it's been a while, huh? This is already on my A03, but I figured it could go here too, since people liked it? Let me know what you link, okay? -Cal
It had been explained to you, every bit of it.
"Don't risk your lives for us. If you die, you'll die justly. Let us save you. Don't let him get any of you." Kanaya explained, gripping Rose's hand.
You wanted to decline, say you'd do anything for him - die a thousand deaths.
"We might not even come back, Strider! It's not worth it! We're not worth it!" he had yelled, pushing you against a wall before walking away.
The next day he had apologized, but reminded you of what he and Maryam had decided.
"Places everyone," Rose said, as if you were to start a show. You wish it were just that, deep inside. Just a show. But, you guess it is, for English, anyway. "It is time to begin."
You smile, thinking about how utterly trivial this all was in the beginning. But the tears wont stop flying down your cheeks.
You had stumbled, tripped over the cracked checkered ground. He took his chance, too. Your eyes locked and the devil took his shot.
It's funny, how time works. A million different timelines, and if you make a tiny mistake, it could erase your only happy ending.
You remember preparing time, getting ready to skip forward a couple seconds to make him miss. Then, something smacks you onto the ground, and the green electricity flies right past you.
You didn't even hear a scream. Just a sharp intake of breath and a thud. You could've narrowly escaped that, and he knew it.
You rise to your feet, eyes widening beneath your shades as you run to your friend, hoisting him off the ground and fleeing the scene. You could hear his rampant breathing, feel his entire body shaking.
You almost laugh, thinking about it. He was your hero, and he wasn't even god-tier. He wouldn't let you be the hero, would he?
"D-Dave. . ." he whispered, lifting a bloodied hand to your face. You screamed at him, telling him not to die, he couldn't die on you.
You feel your cheek, where he had touched it. What comes off is a mixture of his blood and your tears.
"I...I thought...I thought I would hate this..." he said, stopping every couple seconds to release a weak cough. "...Death doesn't...seem so bad..." then he'd started to cry with you.
Your hands are still stained a light, pinkish-red from his tears. Looking at them makes you hiccup into another sob.
His eyes begin to flutter shut, and you shake him, telling him not to leave you. "D-Dave. . ." he whimpered, "I d-don't...I don't...feel like a failure anymore..." he smiled through his tears, and you bury your face in his hair.
His hair smelled like strawberries. You knew he washed it, but he hadn't ever used soap. You always wondered how it smelled that way, and how it was as soft as caterpillar fluff and satin. You grip the air, feeling for the familiar form of the small troll, but he isn't there.
You screamed and cried, gripping his shirt tightly as the warm began to fade and the hands on your face and shoulder had gone limp.
You can't bear to look behind you, because if you do, you'll see the big red stain on the battlefield and imprint it into your heart. John's arms wrap around you, and he tells you it's time to go, to scratch. You nod, slapping a sloppy, fake facade on your face before standing up and following the others. Rose puts a hand on your shoulder to tell you that you did well, and Jade tells you that you're a hero.
But you aren't.
He saved you. Him, with the bark worse than his bite, the caring heart and ever-present scowl. But he died smiling. Smiling up at you and telling you that you were the hero, and that he doesn't feel like he failed anymore.
And, you are glad that you could help him smile one last time.
The light builds behind you, and you look at the others, closing your eyes as the game comes to a close.
-Two Months Later-
You sit in class, doodling in your notebook as the teacher rambles on in a monotonous voice about quadratic equations. The loudspeaker clicks on and you sigh, training your eyes to the small, cream coloured device on the wall.
"Will David Strider please report to the main office? Thank you." says the old woman on the other side, and you stand, mumbling something close to a goodbye to your teacher and waltzing down the hall.
When you arrive, there's a boy standing there. He's got scruffy red hair and freckles, with angry eyes and a scowl. The sweatshirt he's wearing is black, with a light gray cancer sign covering the chest. You quirk an eyebrow, wondering if what you're thinking is true.
He starts to walk towards you, then breaks into a run. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his dark red hair and smile.
It smells like strawberries.