OH GOD FIRST FANFICTION
OF ANYTHING
EVER
Ugh
Anyways, so yeah this is just... Weird, don't mind the weirditude (yes, that is indeed a word) that accompanies the story. Originally when I thought of this story it was just supposed be a short kind of one-shot-type thing, but I started typing and it turned into this. It may not be a metric fuck-ton of chapters, so it probably won't be crazy long. But anyways.
Quite obviously this here is called a FANfiction, charries are not mine, they all belong to Hussie.
Warnings; will contain Karkat cursing like he does (later) has a chance of turning into some John and Dave slash, but who knows, I may keep this shit all platonic up in here.
Your dreams were always such a bother. They were always boring or completely nightmarish, and there was truly no in between. There were no happy dreams, you couldn't remember the last time you had a wet-dream and weren't those supposed to be pretty common? No, the majority of your sleep was filled with the same agonizing pain, repeatedly, over and over again in a constant cycle that never seemed to let up.
Your name is Dave Strider, and despite being a full grown man you suffer from night terrors. Rather often, actually, and for a time you thought you'd be able to handle it yourself, you moved away from your bro, you lived alone, but after a week straight of waking up outside staring at the sky you decided that you really needed someone around. Someone who could shake you back into reality and get you back inside before you get sick again.
None of your friends knew about this little problem of yours, and part of you didn't want them to know. You were too cool to suffer from child problems, night terrors were for kids. You checked, it wasn't normal for adults, and the only thing not normal about you was how cool you thought you were.
No. Correction. How cool you ARE.
Admittedly it wasn't the only thing not normal about you, but your friends didn't have to know that.
Your bro suggested you move back in with him, at least until the night terrors stopped, but that was far from an option, you were determined to stay away, you figured you were perfectly capable of maintaining a functional life-style on your own. Or, mostly on your own, you devised a plan to find someone who'll be around that won't tell all your damn friends about it.
So you'll sacrifice a little of your cool and get a roommate. Someone who didn't know or hang out with your friends, someone who wouldn't tell them jack shit about your nightly activities. And, if you could find one, someone who's busy too often to be around the apartment. Now you'd have to find a new apartment, seeing as your current one only has one bedroom, but if they're splitting the rent that shit is manageable.
Finding that perfect roomie was going to be the problem, you knew; because there were going to be people who you wouldn't like right off the bat, but the surprising turnover with that post on Craigslist says that you have a chance of finding someone in there worthy of your time and living space. And after a few days of talking to people and sitting through all the 'oh fuck no's and all the 'does that even occur in nature's you run across someone who, quite simply, has potential.
After an hour of talking to him (a whole forty-five minutes longer than most of the other candidates) you think he may do the trick. His name's John, he's a first year intern at the hospital in town, which means he works a lot of hours, so he'll be away often, he's got a bitchin' movie collection (bitchin' being used rather lightly, too much Cage for your liking) and he's already expressed that he doesn't mind that you play your music loud. He's perfect, on paper, but he hasn't answered the final question.
"Okay so, I like you," You say and the other smiles, like he's happy to hear it, "but before we start up the moving van, you gotta be cool with..." You pause to search for the words. His smile seems to falter ever so slightly, and despite that fact his teeth are still sticking out. He's kind of a goofy looking dude, now that you think about it. "Dealing with me. If I, like, wake up in the middle of the night." You give a smooth wave of your hand, like it's not a big deal, even though this is basically the clincher on this deal whether he says yes or no.
He seems to think it over for few minutes, and you figure he's probably trying to decipher what you mean by 'deal with'. "Well there's a number of things I could deal with, but depending on my ability really kind of depends on what I'll be dealing with." Spot on observation, Strider. He stares at you, and if not for the shades you wore he'd be making eye contact. You only stare back. You're not elaborating any further and he seems to take a while to gather this fact up, before humming to himself.
"I think I can deal with whatever it is I'll have to deal with." He says, shrugging like he's unsure. But it's good enough, the guy's a doctor he's got to get some sort of kick out of helping people.
You smile, and it feels strange compared to your normal poker face. "Alright, cool." Your tone doesn't reflect your expression, which shortly returns to it's normal poker face. "I think we may get along, yet, Egbert."
SO YA
That was... My first attempt at writing Homestuck fanfiction... So... Tell me what you think... I guess c:
And I'm not entirely sure why I made John a doctor. Just go with it.
~B