Your name is Dave Strider, and you're what they call a 'strange boy'.
Your name is Dave Strider and you're what they call a 'strange boy'.
You have two parents but you pretend they don't exist.
You have a brother, who you call Bro.
He isn't your real brother, but he's more family than your parents. You met him when you were really tiny, back when people said things like "Imaginary friends" and "He'll grow out of it."
You fight with him a lot, not out of spite or anger, but because he's training you. He's really important to you, but you'll never tell him to his face because that's definitely cool or ironic. He's all about that shit.
Your parents are stupid and think you'll stop hanging out with him if they say he's not real. They probably think that they're smarter than you, but you guess that's just a parent thing. They think you're just lonely.
You're not lonely.
You have friends.
Your friends are John, Jade, and Rose. You met them all back when people said things like "Maybe he's just bored?" and "He's just a freak."
They don't think you're a freak, though to be honest you suppose you all are pretty weird. John's a complete dork who's unironically obsessed with stupid movies, Nic Cage, and pranking. He's a nice guy, almost a Gary Stu when you think about it, but he's cool. Jade lives alone on an island, raised by her dog named Bec. She plays bass and it's pretty bad ass, and you recently learned that she's a furry, which is cool. She's always trying to cheer you up when you get upset about stuff and you think that's awesome. Finally, there's Rose, who's actually pretty freaky some times. You love her like a sister, but she's always psychoanalyzing you and it creeps you out sometimes. Also she reads a lot of weird gay wizard porn. Regardless, she's really smart and nice in her own way and her sarcasm is pretty funny some times.
Of course, you have other friends. Some of them, like Karkat and Sollux, live nearby. You hang out with them occasionally. They're a bunch of assholes but that's just how they show affection, you guess. You met them online when you started using a chat program called Pesterchum, back when people began saying things like "Psychosis" and "Mental institute".
For a while you were in a good place. You were making sick beats, and everyone was happy. You constantly talk to them, even during school because who needs that.
Well... you did.
Now you don't talk to anyone.
You don't know why it happened. You were walking down the street, having a sweet convo with your best bro. John was visiting from Washington for the summer and you were both hanging out around town. You had asked Bro to buzz the fuck off while you visited because John absolutely was NOT interested in watching you strife. He agreed, after a rough fight, and went visit his boyfriend somewhere across town. John and you had went to the movies to watch some shitty action movie then eat some gross fast food. Afterwords, you were taking him for a tour around your little land of destitution and concrete. Suddenly, his face went all scared looking and your phone rang. Your mom wanted you both to come home because a storm was coming. You told her "yeah, whatever, sure, calm your tits" and started walking home. John looked sick the whole way, and wouldn't answer when you asked him what was wrong. When you opened the door, your mother was sitting at the kitchen table, her face tearstreaked. Your father sat opposite, holding her hand supportively. His face was grim, and it only got worse when they looked up and saw you.
"Hey guys, why the long faces? John and I were just-"
"Dave, enough."
You blinked at your father in surprise. "Enough what?"
"Enough of John. Enough of John and Jade and Rose and ENOUGH OF 'BRO'." His voice rose desperately. "We've told you, son, they aren't real, you need to wake up from this dream you've let yourself get stuck in."
You wanted to yell at him, you wanted to run. Yeah, they had told you that over and over again.
"You're lying. You're just trying to keep me away from them!"
"Please, Davey, we love you just-"
"SHUT UP THEY'RE REAL JUST SHUT UP"
"DAVID WALKERS"
"DAVE STRIDER. I'M DAVE STRIDER."
You father just watched you, a lost look in his eyes. Your mother wept, her whole body shaking. You stood for a single silent moment. John was gone, he probably went upstairs to get away from the arguing.
You followed him.
John was sitting on your bed when you got up the stairs. He didn't turn towards you when you shut your door. His shoulders were shaking.
"John...?"
You heard him sniffle and sat next to him on the bed hurriedly. "John, bro, what's up? I'm sorry about our fighting, my parents are freaks, huh?"
John finally looked at you, a deep, sad look in his eyes.
"Dave, I'm sorry."
You were speechless. John had no reason to apologize, he didn't do anything wrong.
"Dave... I don't want to lose you."
What was this asshole saying? Lose him? What the hell did that even mean?!
"I... I don't want you to miss us."
You almost asked him what he the fuck he was talking about when the door slammed open and two men came in. They both grabbed you by an arm each and pinned you to your floor. You screamed for John, asking why the hell he wasn't helpung you, where was he?! You could see your parents standing behind the two strangers. Traitors. You felt a pinch in your arm. You felt your eyes get heavy.
You felt yourself beging crying.
"Dude, man up, crying ain't cool.
You'll be fine, lil bro."
That was a week ago. Since then, you haven't said a word to anybody. Nobody comes to visit you, there are no colors to your walls, nor voices to keep you company. The only people who see you are the doctors that check on you and make you eat and give you water and pills. John won't come see you, and it makes you upset. Sometimes you think you hear Bro calling your name, but then you turn and he's not there.
You hate everything.
You just want them back.
You didn't mean it, whatever you did to make them mad at you, you didn't.
You cry, because no one can see you.
Your name is Dave Strider, you are 17 years old and for once they don't call you a 'strange boy', and you hate it.