Your name is Dave Strider, and you're lying awake at 2:18 a.m. The horrible thoughts that have been plaguing you for months are back, as usual, and you stare at the dimly lit ceiling. The shadows dance across it from the lights outside your apartment windows, and you can faintly hear police sirens. The normality of all this chills you, as when you were playi-
No. You're not fucking thinking about that right now. The others might, but you're not going to let it get to you again. The weeks after it was all over, you used to sit on the roof by yourself, reflecting on all the shit that had happened to you. And John.
John. He was... broken. Something inside him just snapped, and he doesn't seem like the same kid who used to prank you every freaking day of the week and ruffle your hair and call you the 'cool kid'. You miss it.
You miss everything that used to be, before it was all ruined.
When you were all spat back out, you wanted John to move in with you. He wasn't himself, he was sort of lost or something and it made you feel like dying every time you saw his face, his face with his bright blue eyes and streaked with tears.
Bro wouldn't allow it.
"I don't need any more shit going on. I have stuff to do, dude. I get that you're all upset and depressed or whatever but I don't need that bouncing ball of glee fucking up my life. Okay?"
John moved to an apartment on the floor below you, which was good enough. You would take him to the roof once in a while and point to the stars, just to let him know that everything was normal; everything was okay.
But it wasn't, and you all knew it.
You sit up in bed and grab your phone which is lying by your bed on the floor. No messages. John is probably asleep or something, but you feel so fucking alone right now and Bro is no help. For some reason, after everything, he doesn't want to be involved. He stays out of the house as much as possible, and when you try to talk to him about anything he just ignores you. It makes you want to curl up in a corner away from all the smuppet ass crowding your stupid-as-fuck apartment and Bro's constant absence and just scream. Scream because nobody in the whole entire world would understand what you all went through, what you'd seen and the thoughts that are blackening your not-so-innocent mind right now are one of the main things that drive you insane.
But just as you're about to break down and cry, completely unironically, you hear a sound in the kitchen. Standing up, you push the covers off your half naked body and stand up, pulling the door open slightly and peering into the darkness of your flat.
There's a small shape, a person, standing in your kitchen. Too small to be Bro, and the only other person who knows where you live is-
"John," you whisper into the gloom.
"D-Dave, I-" he says, and runs to you. Your arms are already open to catch him in a hug, and he buries his face in your shoulder.
"What happened, John?" you ask him, smoothing his messy hair. He looks up at you, his eyes cloudy with fear.
He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "I... I dreamt about them, Dave! Everyone was... everyone was dea-" John gasps, and starts to cry. You hug him a little bit tighter, then take his hand and lead him to your room, weaving through the various death traps strewn throughout the living room. He sits down on your bed and you sit next to him. He's still sobbing his eyes out, so you sit there watching the tears course down his dimly lit face until he stops crying.
"So, what happened?" you ask gently. He doesn't respond for a few moments, and when he looks up into your face from behind his glasses, his face is full of pain. It makes you want to cry, and that's saying something as you're a fucking Strider. Striders don't cry, but evidently Egberts do.
"It w-was the dream... the one I... the one I always have. Oh, Dave it was so horrible..." he murmurs, putting his head in his hands. You understand what he's talking about. Sometimes he talks about this one dream he always has, the one where-
"Everyone always dies," John says. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and this time you find there are stupid baby tears in your eyes and John reaches over and pulls you close to his body and you cry into his shoulder for the first time, cry because everyone died and there was nothing you could do to stop it and it was so unfair.
"Why did this happen to us, John?" you ask him. You feel him shake his head.
He replies, "I don't know, I don't know but I wish it hadn't."
"C'mere." you say, and tug on his hand and pull him into the bed with you. He squeezes up in your relatively tiny bed, with you against the wall on the far side. He rests his head on your shoulder, his unruly hair tickling your face. You put your hand on his head, and shoosh him until his eyes begin to close.
"Everyone... gone," he whispers. "Dead. So many..."
You pull the covers around his skinny body, and kiss his face. His eyes flutter open, and he stares at you.
"You've never done that before." he says, his voice quiet.
You don't say anything, just press your lips to his and kiss his face and neck and head until he falls asleep in your arms.
(wow sorry)