Dirk Strider was just a dropout from college who just posted comics with no specific purpose online. He lived alone in an apartment in Texas, and claimed that he was cool because of his irony, and only had his smuppets and Lil' Cal with him for company. His folks were all the way in Denver, and he had no intent of contacting them. He just didn't care. This was his life, and he liked it that way.
But everything changed when he came. Everything changed that night.
It was a regular night. Moths lazily floated about peoples' homes and electrocuted themselves going into lamps, and then dropping dead. Dirk's radio was turned on to the max, his AC running. He had his shades and cap on, and had thrown on his gray boxers. That was all he had on. This type of attire was what lounge clothes were in his terms. He was just browsing, scrolling along the blog. His eyes glazed over the screen behind his shades. The sharp noise of the doorbell rang, and he heard the hurried footsteps of someone running from his door.
"Who the hell would be out at this kind of night?" he mutters to himself as he gets up with a grunt and goes over to the door. "Seriously, what the shit?"
He rubs his eyes, blinking the colored spots away from his sight. He opens the door. Nobody was there.
"Ha, ha, you all are so damn funny," he says through gritted teeth, closing the door. He stops mid-swing when he hears the wail of a baby. He looks downwards and sees a baby boy. He takes a closer look and sees that the small child had pale blonde, almost white hair, and equally pale skin. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open in hunger. He looked about two months old. He was wrapped in a red blanket as a note was clenched in his hand. Dirk kneels down, taking it and opening it.
"I'm so sorry," It was written in a hurried, rushed manner. "Please, take care of him. His name is David, and he is your brother. He's all you have left."
All he has left? His folks were dead? Well. Dirk takes a quick look at the squirming baby. A sense of brotherly pride rushed over him. He got to take care of David Strider. His brother.
"David, huh?" Dirk mutters softly as he lifts the baby up and takes him inside. The little boy opened his eyes. Red eyes. "Well, not in my house, lil' buddy. You're Dave. Dave Strider. And I'm your brother. Your bro."
The infant was silent for a while.
"Bo?" He finally inquired after a few moments of hesitation.
Dirk thought for a while before cracking into a grin.
"Yeah. Your Bo."