The walk towards the park john had suggested was quiet and comfortable. The breeze was soft and the sun was still in the sky. Their pace was comfortable, the atmosphere wasn't awkward.

It was nice.

The park came into view and John was beside himself with excitement. "There it is Dave! I haven't been here for years!" he grinned toward Dave who offered a meagre twitch upward of the lips in return. John led him to the swings, and they sat. And they swung. And they talked.

In the café, they talked. John would take an order and casually stroll back to the counter, take out his phone, and answer Dave. Dave would sit there and watch John answer him, so he knew when to check his phone. While they waited for John's shift to end.

And on the swings, they spoke again. Face to face. Without red and blue text and nonsensical usernames in a chat client.

Dave told John he was from Texas. John said he was born there, in Washington. They got to know the basic things, favourite colours, (which were quite obviously blue and red), ages, birthdays, pets or siblings or neither? John had his sister Jade, and two cousins the two of them were rather close too. Dave had Rose.

John didn't ask about Bro. Dave was grateful.

On the swings, their conversation brought up Dave and his swords.

"It's pretty cool I guess. You got anything like that? So if you need to defend yourself or anything your cool?" John hmm'd and swung extra high, Dave was just pushing himself backwards and forwards a few inches. "I have my hammer! It's not really a proper weapon but I'm pretty handy with it!" the adorable thought of John trying to make something himself, or the terrifying thought of John going up against something dangerous with nothing but a DIY tool occupied Dave's mind before John spoke again.

"But your swords sound awesome, Dave! You could be like one of those secret superheroes from the movies! Saving the day with your awesome sword!" he laughed and Dave smirked.

"Nah, I don't see myself saving the day really. I'm no hero." John slowed his swings down quite considerably so he could talk to Dave properly.

"I think you could be! You would be that Knight that the princess swooning over you!" he gave a buck-toothed smile that was honestly one of the cutest thing Dave had ever seen a grown man do, according to John, he was 20, only a year older than Dave.

But the word "princess" made him squirm.

Dave was transferred to different schools three times in his younger days, as he was bullied for being gay. Having all the princesses swooning was not a concept that Dave was too partial too.

John was going to find out eventually, and it wasn't the deepest darkest secret Dave had. So he may as well make a joke with it.

"Honestly, I would prefer a prince." The black haired young man had a confused look, while he figured that out, and then, after a gut wrenching, heart stopping few seconds, the light bulb appeared, and John had gotten it.

Once again, John smiled.

"Okay then! The Prince swoons over you, and your amazing swordsmanship." He laughed and smiled at Dave, a bright dazzling smile, because Johns smiles were just different shades of dazzling, never anything less.

Dave nodded. "Of course. My swordsmanship is the best there is." It took John a second to get it, but he was laughing at Dave's joke a second later. Going a bright red, all the way to his ears.

"I'm afraid you'd have to prove that to the Prince, can you defeat a dragon in a sword fight?" Dave raised an eyebrow, and quickly came up with a response. "No, that asshole isn't worth the Knights time." John smirked at him, and the blonde wasn't sure what to expect.

"But how would you defeat the dragon?" he asked, eyes glimmering even more than they usually do.

"I would have a sass-off with that bitch of course, throw in some rhymes and that dragon has no chance, Prince is saved." Rather proud of himself, Dave pushed himself for a little swing as John replied.

"The Prince is astonished at your mad skills, but isn't sure whether the sass match is lame or cool!" lame? Dave almost pouted that John kind of just called him lame.

"It was so very cool. The Knight continues to be amazingly cool." Eager to reply, John smiled at Dave once again, and replied almost too quickly.

"But you never impressed him with your amazing skills with a sword! Amazing sass or no, not being able to see the Knight take down the dragon with his mighty sword might just be a bit of a turn off man." and suddenly Dave knew exactly where to take the conversation, he would speak as he would have two months ago.

"He has yet to use his sword though. The great mercy he showed by whopping that dragon via sass would be its own kind of turn on." Eyebrows raised on Johns head. Surprised he had come out of his shell.

"To some, sure. But what if this Prince wanted to see some action, hmm?" a light red dusted both their cheeks. Especially after what Dave replied with.

"Then he would have to show the Prince his swordsman skills, but without killing no dragons." John wasn't sure what made him go on, he was blushing a cherry red.

"Oh? And how would he do that?" John was pretty sure he made himself out to be a creep in that moment, and berated himself internally.

"He'd ask if he could prove his skills using his other sword. In a more private setting I'm sure. Can't be swordman-ing in some field or some shit" wind blew and barely reached their faces, as all blood was heading there. They both knew exactly what they had insinuated.

"Well, the Prince would say that if he could win over his heart, then he could show him his sword skills anytime he wanted to." And yet John continued. He wanted to know what Dave would say next.

"Well The Knight will do his very best"

John heart leapt.

The apparently sexual conversation was dropped soon after, yet both Dave and John's hearts raced long afterwards.

They played on the swings, they shared banter on the see-saw (John was heavier than Dave, so he was the butt of many pranks involving john moving the see-saw up and down suddenly with good speed and force. Dave was not amused)

"I'm sorry Dave, but I had to!" John was laughing, tears welling in his eyes and Dave cradled his poor, abused, crotch. He needed that for things. Getting his dick beaten in by a see-saw was not one of those things.

Another groaned; fuck you was his response. He wasn't actually that mad. It just hurt a lot but John's laugh soothed it and made him was to laugh too, because he was pretty sure his face was hilarious, as well as him rolling around shouting obscenities, groaning and asking what he did to deserve this. Before shutting up, because he knew exactly what he'd done to deserve a lot of things, and suddenly he didn't feel like laughing anymore.

John helped him up and apologised one last time before they settled huddled together in a play fort, the sky was darkening and the looming thought of going home hung over Dave. Like a child who was playing outside. He didn't want to go back. But instead of it being homework and bedtime he would go back to, it was the force of the past few months re-assaulting him, grief smashing into him like a ton of bricks.

His falling face was caught be John. Who raised an eyebrow in concern, about to ask if he was alright- The emotion was quickly hidden once again.

They stretched out next to each other in the small wooden play castle. The roof over their heads was covered in mosses and graffiti, apparently "Adam is a Dick" and frankly Dave was surprised kids didn't ask questions about the 99% sexual graffiti teens had scrawled on the fort.

They said nothing. Even when the sound of rain pitter-pattered over their heads, even when some on it dripped through the gaps in the wood, landing on Dave's face like a tear.

It was a few minutes later john spoke up.

"Are you okay? I did whack you pretty hard." He looked up to Dave, who had a few inches on him.

"I'm fine now. Though that was a dick move man." John chuckled softly, amused at the dick pun.

Another upward quirk of the lips from Dave.

"Hey, Dave?" John wasn't looking at Dave. He was looking out into the park from the small window opposite them. Rain battered down, and it was an unspoken agreement that neither of them were leaving the fort until it had stopped.

"Hmm?" he looked to John from the rain, then to the rain again. He was the man who stared at the rain, after all.

"We should go somewhere again. But plan it first. So you don't have to wait two or three hours in a café waiting for me to finish my shift." It was a good suggestion, and Dave liked the idea of seeing John again.

"Sure. Pester me when you're off work." The nod John gave was heard, not seen. The soft "yeah…" was carried to Dave's ears by the wind and it barely reached him, it was so quiet.

The sun had descended, and the rain was letting up, it was with great and rather sickening anxiety than Dave realised he would have to go home soon.

He hoped he stocked up on alcohol. He was going to need it.

But knowing Rose, she probably had raided his apartment while he was gone and drained every single drop.

Probably.

Dave almost physically sighed. And decided to do what he had been all night. Focus on John, as he melted Dave's problems away. Distracted him from nearly everything except the brightest of blue and the darkest of blacks. Everything except bright smiles and buckteeth.

Everything but him.

Dave didn't bother thinking why or how. He just relished in the mere thought of can and is. He could lose himself in John, he didn't know how or why, but he could and would, so he didn't care. It didn't matter, he could figure it out later.

Dave arrived back at his apartment in the middle of the night holding a six-pack of beer he was hoping the thought of John could distract him from.

He opened the door and stepped inside his own personal hell.

The grief and the pain rushes back in what felt like some sort of heart attack. Dave had to stop in the door and compose himself a little. John was wiped near clean of his mind, and his blissful distraction had left him.

Bro's belongings were everywhere. His smuppets, some destroyed, but not all, as their creator and repairer could no longer fix them, were strewn around. Bottles of alcohol and in the bathroom drops of blood from the first few days. Bro's clothes, still clean and pressed, in his wardrobe, except one shirt which was laying on Dave's bed, for when he woke up sobbing in the early hours of the morning.

Oh how the mighty fall. Oh how the cool, stoic and composed crumble under the loss of a loved one. A brother. Who raised him and made him who he is. Who guided him and protected him when he needed him most. Who gave him some of his greatest memories, and because of Dave's stupid, stupid self, he was gone.

And it was all Dave's fault. He would assure you.

His bro's boyfriend, Jake (who looked a little like John, when he thought about it) hadn't spoken to him since the funeral, and Dave wondered briefly if he was still as fucked up as he himself was, and decided yes, he probably was.

He made no attempt to contact him, he couldn't bring himself to face weary green eyes rubbed raw from tears.

No. his Bro probably looks down in disgust at him, but he can't bring himself to stop. The pain was almost blissful. Each agonising emotion, each tear shed or cut made, made him feel like he was paying up for what was his fault. Even though he could never fix the mess he had made. Not even by taking his own life. He could practically feel the spirit of his brother telling him he would punch him from beyond the grave if he tried anything like that.

It was things like that, that had kept him going.

Rose, too. She refused to leave him. Her and Kanaya both. They brought him food and sat with him and didn't question him when he broke down. Only held him.

His bro used to be like that when he was a kid. Even when he was 15 and in his second school, just before he transferred again. He was there, he even hugged Dave. Told him it was okay. The stoic older brother had let Dave cry on his shoulder. And said nothing. Nothing of how uncool crying was. Or how letting the assholes who attended his school get to him was not cool at all. Just reassuring silence, wherein actions communicated everything, and even the smallest thing was a large feat.

Dave didn't make it to his room.

Remembering his brothers embrace, how he promised Dave. Fucking promised him that he would never leave his side. That nothing could take down a Strider, he fell to his knees in the doorway to his room.

It is only now these words are realised to be filthy lies. Yet they are lies so good Dave's heart ached for them to be true. For Bro to yell that there's pizza in the fridge, and be nosy about John.

John.

A sigh of relief shook his entire body. John. John with the blue eyes who didn't ask hard questions. Who made jokes and was his prince that wanted to see action. Who believed he could be a hero. Dave was no hero. And he never would be.