"Ugh...damnit..." Dirk grumbled as he dug beneath his bed. He was supposed to have his room clean before his dad, Bro as he called him, got home, they had a movie premeir and the afterparty was at the apartment this time. Dirk had decided shoving everything under his bed was the best way to go about it, until his shoe got mixed it and he had go plundering back under for it. "Ow..." He hit his head on the springs above him before he found his shoe. He grabbed it and as he was about to resurface, he saw a box. He yanked the box out with him
He tugged his shoe on before opening the small box. It looked like a music box on the outside, but the inside was hollowed out and filled with shiny, round marbles of different colors and sizes. He picked a few up, rolling them around the palm of his hand. There was a peice of paper tapped to the underside of the lid. Scribbled in bad hand writing it said "John Egbert." That name sounded familiar but he couldn't pick out from where.
The door to his room opened with a light knock. "Yo, you ready?" His Bro stood in the doorway and glanced around his room, "Shoved it under the bed?" Dirk gave him a cheeky smile and the older boy smiled back, gesturing his head out the door. "C'mon, we ain't got a whole lot of time."
Dirk stood up and picked up the box, "Hey, who's John Egbert? Why are his marbles under my bed?"
His Bro looked a little confused and asked to see the box. When it exchanged hands, the older looked down at it, picking through some of the shiny balls and a smile crossed his lips. "Oh...fuck man, I didn't know I still had this."
"So, what the hell is it?"
"I'll tell you on the way, let's go." He sat the box down on a dresser and two headed out.
"Look, John I didn't fuckin' mean any-" Dirk's dad, Dave Strider, was a mere 10 years old. He was cornered in a mostly unused bathroom not long after the bell to head home rang.
A slightly taller boy with black hair stood over him, "Oh yeah? So what did you mean by it then?"
"I-I was just lettin' you know there's other actors than Nic Cage! L-like..."
"Like?"
"Man, I don't know! There are hundreds of actors, just broaden your fuckin' horazins, ya know?" Dave stuttered, squirming under John's gaze.
John reached down and grabbed him by the shirt collar, tossing him into the closet bathroom stall. He locked it behind them. Dave looked up from where he sat on the floor, "Are you gonna rape me...?" He asked, genuine fear in his eyes.
John smirked, "Don't flatter yourself." He picked Dave up by the arm, bending him over the toilet. Dave spewed out some appologies but it was useless before his head was submerged in the lukewarm water. He blew some bubbles from his nose, his hands smacking on the side of the toilet, trying to break free. John held tight to his hair, holding him down for a minute or two before letting him up.
Dave gasped for air as John whispered in his ear, "Check yourself, sixth grader." He shoved his head back down into the water. He dunked him in a few times before pulling him out and tossing him next to the toilet. Dave sputtered and coughed as he watched the older boy head out of the room and heard the door shut behind him.
"You got bullied?" Dirk asked, looking up at the man he admired as being nothing but strong and smart, trying to picture him with his head shoved inside a toilet.
The older Strider nodded, "Yeah man, but trust me, it get's so much fuckin' better."
Dave dragged himself through the door to his apartment building, his hair soaked and his shirt wrinkled. He flopped down on the couch and shook his head, trying to dry himself off like a dog. He pulled his sunglasses off, wiping the lenses with his shirt. His older brother, Bro (ironically, he called his brother the same thing his son would later refer to him as, but then again, irony was a normal thing for this family) appeared in the kitchen.
The man dropped onto the couch next his younger brother, tossing a juicebox at him. "That John kid get you again?"
Dave grunted.
"Can I kick his ass?"
Another grunt, but Dave waved the offer off. Bro sighed as he clicked on the television for Dave, grabbed his keys, and headed to the door. "Hey, where you goin?" Dave asked, looking up at the sound of the door opening.
"Gonna get a pizza."
"Stuffed crust with garlic dipping sauce?"
Bro smiled and headed out the door.
"BRO, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?" Dave asked, yanking open the door to the apartment. One eye swollen shut, his bottom lip busted and his favorite shirt hung from his torso in tatters.
Bro had, in all honesty, been hiding behind the TV and waiting for him to get home for a surprise strife attack. When he heard the anger in his brother's voice and saw the way he looked, he dropped the sword and emerged from his hiding place, "Oh, whoa, little man, what the hell happened t-"
"YOU FUCKING HAPPENED!" Dave yelled and now Bro could see light tears coming from his eyes. "What did you do to John?" His voice lowered and he just wanted an answer.
Bro looked confused, "I didn't do anything to that kid...uh...just took something from him. Ya know, teach that fucker a lesson." Bro came closer, rubbing a finger across Dave's chin to wipe some blood away.
Dave swatted at his hand, "Well, you didn't teach him jack-shit."
"He did this?"
Dave scoffed, "No, the fuckin' tooth fairy did it."
"Dave, I-"
"I don't care, Bro...I just don't fuckin' care." Dave threw his arms up as he stomped off to his room.
Dirk sat in silence, staring as his feet as they drove their beatup truck through the hot Texas sun. He glanced up at his dad, but he didn't seem upset by the story. It sounded like a pretty bad thing to happen to him, why was he so content about it? He didn't continue the story, but Dirk got the idea far more happened that what he was letting on.
The two got out at a large theater, Bro smiled at the photographers (never one to wave off paperatzi) and a few asked for pictures of the two boys together. Bro was always happy to pull his son close to him for a picture, but Dirk could barely fake any happiness at the moment, the story he was told just kept repeating in his head.
He sat through the movie, another ridiculous title, another strange storyline his dad probably thought of at three in the morning, and the entire soundtrack consisted of his own 'ill beats,' occasionally featuring Dirk himself rapping. Even through those parts, he couldn't keep his mind on the movie. There was a certain smile that crossed Bro's face when he finished the story, a smile that said there was way more to it, but Dirk would never find out. Bro talked about his brother fairly often, they seemed to get along rather well. Extremely well. Dirk had come across quite a few photos of the two boys goofing off, strifing, and more than a few where the older and taken some candid photos of the younger falling asleep on his lap. They always looked happy, well, as happy as they could look while still being ironic as fuck.
Maybe that really was where the story ended? They fought for a few days and then it was suddenly over? All better, no worries, back to being bestbros? Who was Dirk to claim there had to be way more to the story?
There was way, way more to the story.
Dave had opted from telling his son the rest because, frankly, it just wasn't something he was ready to let him know about him. His son knew how much he looked up to his older brother, hell the kid was named after the guy, if that's not a sign of admiration, what is?
The thing was, Dave had more than just admiration for his brother. Infacuation was a much closer term.
Dave laid on his bed on his stomach, his arms folded beneath his broken face. A loud band screamed their angst through his room. So loudly it blocked the sound of his bedroom door clicking open.
Bro reached over and turned the stereo down, "Little bro, can we talk for a minute?"
"No. Just go away." Dave grumbled, tossing a pillow at the man. Bro ducked from it, letting it crash into the hallway behind him. He shut the door before he took a seat on the end of Dave's bed.
"Now, you know this ain't what I was plannin' to happen." Bro started, but when he saw Dave roll over, his eye big and bruised, his lips trembling from pain and not to mention holding back tears, he was cut off. "I just wanted to say I was sorry."
Dave laid on his back, his covers pulled up to his chin outlined his arms that were folded over his chest in frustration, "Why should I forgive you?"
Bro smiled lightly, reaching under Dave's bed he pulled out a box. It resembled a music box, but the inside was filled with marbles instead of gears. A peice of paper informed them it belonged to John. "This is what I took from him." Dave stared at them, picking through the small spheres. "Remember a few years ago, when the two of you were in elementary school and he would win everyones marbles on the playground?" Dave a slight nod and his mouth even twitched up into a smile at the site of one of theme. It was red and black with a simulated white crack wraping around the middle of it. That was his favorite before he lost it. "I know it ain't much, I wanted to take something important but I knew he'd call the cops if his phone or some shit went missing." He shrugged, "This was all I could manage...I thought he wouldn't care too much." He reached another hand out, thumbing across Dave's swollen lip before wiping at a tear. "I'm really sorry he flipped ou-"
Dave lunged across the box, spilling the marbles across the floor, and wrapped his arms around his older brother. He tucked his face into his neck, sobbing into the collar of his shirt. Bro moved his hand to the back of Dave's head, rubbing his hair absentmindedly as he pulled him into his lap.
Dave pulled back, sniffling and blinked his good eye a few times, "Bro...that guy gave me a swirly because I told him there were other actors than Nic Cage...he would've beat me up if you had stolen a dead moth from his room."
Bro gave a little chuckle as he leaned their foreheads together, noses brushing. "So you forgive me, you little shit?"
"As long as you promise to actually kick his ass this time." Dave smiled and Bro would've liked to believe he was kidding, but he most certainly wasn't. Not that he cared. He'd been planning out to beat up that guy for months.
They stayed that way, Dave curled up in his brother's lap, Bro petting his hair, for a few more minutes before Bro closed up the distance between their lips. He was light because he knew Dave was sore. His tongue licked over the cuts on the younger boys bottom lip.
Dave's eye (because one physically couldn't) flew open wide. He stared back, trying to see his brother's eyes through his shades. That wasn't the first time they had kissed. Their lips had connected on many occasions, but this was the first he had felt any tongue. Dave had forced himself to think they were brotherly kisses, they didn't mean anything more than that.
After all, they always came at times that brotherly kisses would be appropriate. Late at night when he tucked him in, before Bro headed off on a business trip and left him alone with a distance relative, when Dave was upset and that was the only way to shut him up. They had always been light and quick, the only love that passed between their lips was that of two brothers. It felt different now and it confused Dave. He had always wanted it to mean more but had come to terms that it never would. He never pushed his luck with it, he had settled for the relationship they already had.
Dave pulled back, blinking a few times. Bro tilted his head down, almost as if he was ashamed, "Dave..." Dave reached up before he could finish what he was saying, removing the pointed glasses from his face. Bro gave him a light smile as Dave's small hands cupped his face and reconnected their lips. They didn't stay like that for long, just long enough for Dave to know that Bro would always try to protect, even if he didn't do a very good job of, long enough for Bro to know that Dave was the most important thing in his life, and long enough for the two of them to realize that this relationship they were nurturing was something no one could ever know about.