His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he ran. His head was spinning with a whirlwind of thoughts. Out of all of them, out of any feeling of sorrow or guilt or panic, one rose above the rest; he had to make sure his brother was going to be okay.
He was about halfway down the hallway, about twenty or so feet from the apartment he shared with his little brother. He looked down at the body in his arms; Dave's body. He let out a bittersweet sigh of relief when Dave coughed a little. It meant he was still alive, still breathing, but even the cough sounded irrefutably weak. He swallowed harshly and tore his eyes from his brother, locking them on the door to their apartment. He had to focus, every moment counted. He trained his ears to focus on Dave's breathing, those raspy, labored breaths. No matter how focused he was on Dave, he could still hear the squeak of his shoes on the tile of the hallway.
Wait, why are my shoes squeaking? It wasn't even raining outside. He thought to himself. He looked down for a moment, and then wished he hadn't. Dave was dripping blood. It trailed down the hall behind them, along with bloody footprints from Bro accidentally stepping in the trail.
"Shit!" The older Strider said aloud before he started running faster. He wanted to flash-step, he wanted to have been home already taking care of Dave's wound, but he didn't want to end up hurting him worse.
When he made it to the door, he sent a silent thank-you to whatever deity that may exist that Dave didn't lock the door when he went up to meet him on the roof. He practically crashed through the door, not hesitating a moment to take Dave into the bathroom and sit him up on the toilet.
"Dave? Can you hear me?" He asked cautiously as he got into the cabinet under the sink and got out the first aid kit, the one that anyone would say is overly stocked, but they don't know why you need all of it.
He looks up just in time to see Dave nod. He grimaces when he notices how pale he is. He starts digging faster, throwing the kit and opening it as soon as he finds it. He gets out everything he needs; gauze, medical thread for stitches, bandage wrap, scissors, all of it.
He took the supplies and knelt beside his brother, taking the scissors and cutting off his shirt.
"Can you talk to me little man?" He questioned as he started to clean around the wound. It was deep, and ran downward from his right shoulder. It was still bleeding, but not as much as he thought it was.
"Bro, I'm f-fine..." Dave replied quietly.
"Liar." Bro said as he took off his pointed shades and sterilized the needle, preparing to stitch the wound.
"I'm not lying. I can handle a little pain, and it isn't even that bad."
"Dave, look at me." He told him as he carefully removed his aviators.
He watched as Dave slowly opened his eyes and met his gaze. He could see the tears welling up in his brother's eyes. He smirked slightly and ruffled his hair.
"Man, it's okay. You're hurt and we both know it, you don't need to try and pretend you aren't." He said as he turned back to taking care of the wound.
Soon it had been stitched up, the bleeding having almost completely stopped by the time it was bandaged. He made quick work of the clean up before taking Dave to his room and tucking him in, deciding to make him some food then letting him sleep.
He was sitting on the counter, waiting for some chicken nuggets to heat up in the microwave when he thought back to what happened.
It started out as a normal strife. He had Dave meet him on the roof like always. He didn't know that Dave was mad at him when he invited him up there.
The two were sparring when Dave started yelling at him. Yelling that this was all bullshit. All the fighting, the living situation- you two could be living somewhere so much better, the fact that everything about everything is messed up, even if it's just for the irony of it. He screamed about how he never got to be a normal kid, all the while erratically slashing his sword about.
Then Dave started to insult him. Telling him he was a shitty brother, that everything he does is stupid, no wonder he's single.
It hurt knowing he felt that way. It hurt more than it should have. It made him angry. Dave was an ungrateful little prick. He gave up so much to take care of him, to prepare him for the world, to make sure he didn't live the life you did, and he was unappreciative, faultfinding, and inconsiderate. It made him go into a blind fury, and when he realized what he did it scared him. Dave's agonized cries drew him out of his rage. He stared at Dave in horror before dropping his sword and kneeling beside him. His brother's shirt was getting soaked in blood and it was all his fault. Without hesitation he picked him up and rushed him downstairs.
He was in a panic. He was terrified and guilty and disgusted with himself and his actions. He was sorry; so damn sorry. He had been apologizing under his breath the whole way there and he hadn't noticed. He didn't think Dave noticed either...
The beeping of the microwave startled him, ripping him from his thoughts and hurdling him back into reality. He took the food out and went back to his younger brother's room. He grabbed a bottle of apple juice he knew was hidden in his closet, put them both in Dave's lap, and sat on the edge of his bed. Neither of them said a word the whole time. When Dave finished the food, Bro took the trash and stood up.
"Get some rest." He told him as he left the room.
He kept watch over him the rest of the night. At first, he would just check up on him, make sure he's still alive and breathing. By the end of the night, that's all that was on his mind. Check up on Dave, make sure he's alive. He didn't sleep at all.
What Dave had said earlier was eating him alive. So much so that he spent most of the night cleaning. He picked up all the smuppets and put them into boxes, the stored the boxes under the futon in the living room. He took all the swords out of the fridge and mounted them on the wall, not stopping no matter how many times his hand would slip and drop one or a sword would fall and cut him. Anything that wasn't part of a normal household was boxed up and stored away; save all the weaponry, which got mounted on the walls. When he stopped and looked around he decided that wasn't good enough. He proceeded to take every blade, every throwing star, every dangerous or harmful item off the walls and locked them in the attic, along with any of the comics he made or any poster he deemed pornographic. He even put Li'l Cal up there, even though it hurt to.
When he was done, he went and sat in Dave's room, on the floor next to his bed. He sat there listening to his steady breathing before he started repeating apologies like it was a mantra. He told himself that this was stupid, especially since he had told Dave not to show any emotion, trained him that way, but he only did that so that he wouldn't get hurt when he was older. Now that he's hurt, now that Dave was hurt because of him, he didn't care.
This continued for a while. He didn't notice when he started crying, or when the sun came up, or when he had worked his throat raw from the continuous apologies and the choked sobbing. However, he did notice when Dave got up and left the room, obviously still half asleep and needing to use the bathroom. He did notice when his little brother came back in the room a couple minutes later and gave him the most baffled look he had ever seen in his life. He definitely noticed when Dave noticed that he was crying. There was no way he couldn't notice when the boy knelt beside him and wiped his tears away.
"Bro, why are you crying? I've never seen you cry." Dave asked curiously.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a horrible brother, I'm sorry."
"What? No. Shut up. You're awesome. The coolest guy around. Everyone stares in jealousy when you walk the streets. Saying 'man, that guy is so cool.' and when they see me with you they're like 'that guy is so lucky to have a brother as cool as him.'"
"I'm sorry..."
"Is this because of what I said yesterday? I didn't mean that, I really didn't. I was mad because John was dissing you and your puppets again, and Rose was trying to get in my head and psycho-analyze me again. Plus none of my pictures I took would turn out. I was frustrated and took it out on you and then made you mad. I didn't mean anything that I said, and I know that you didn't mean to hurt me like that. It's okay, so shut up and stop apologizing."
"Get back in bed, I'll go make you some food." He said as he stood up.
"Only if you promise to put everything back the way it was."
He looked down at Dave, who was smirking up at him. He let out a small chuckle and ruffled his brother's hair.
"Sure thing, little man."