Disclaimer: Homestuck, not mine. You all know the drill.

Chapter Warnings: None, though it's a bit Davecentric.


A Discovery

The next several days spent with John went about as well as one could expect, considering the company at hand.

The day after the party, Jade had resumed fussing over John excessively, as was now her usual order of business whenever the twins got a chance to visit each other. The two had grown far closer since discovering their shared genetics (as had Dave and Rose), which seemed to make perfect sense, especially given the circumstances. They had all needed somebody else to lean on during the cataclysmic events of the Game, and spending three years trapped alone with their newfound twin seemed to give them each the perfect (if necessary) bonding opportunity. However, back at home, Jade now seemed to be the one most intent on ignoring John's current condition. Dave sympathized, as he understood this to be a defense mechanism; nobody wants to see a sibling in pain, and so Jade was dealing with it the only way she currently knew how. She was playing along.

Due to Jade's mothering over-attention, it was currently very hard to find John alone at any given point in time. (Thinking of time as linear was something that Dave was still readjusting to even now, and it made him a bit uncomfortable, so he tried not to think about it too much.) Luckily, today seemed to be one of Harley's "nap attack" days, and as she slept peacefully on the sofa, Dave noted that her brother had disappeared from the living room that he had been haunting (with Jade's rapt attention) for the past several days.

Wondering what the young nerd could be doing to keep himself occupied without the help of his friends and figuring that it had to be more entertaining than sitting here and watching Jade nap while Rose knitted quietly in a corner (like a grandmother, as he often told her), Dave wandered towards John's room to investigate. Seeing as how the door was still open a crack, it couldn't be anything private. Peering inside though, he was unsure quite what to make of what he saw.

John was sitting quietly at his desktop, an open Pesterchum window flashing blankly on the monitor. (What the hell?) It made no sense for John to have Pesterchum open, considering that the only people he regularly used it to talk to were all sitting in his house.

Dave leaned himself against the wall to avoid bumping the door, deciding not to enter or alert John to his presence just yet. After John typed in a few smooth keys commands, a bittersweet smile flickered across his face just as a sad, understanding grimace crossed Dave's. He recognized that set of keyboard commands, for he had typed them himself more times than he could count over the last year. John was opening his Pesterlog's history. The brunette clearly missed the trolls, they all did, and now rereading their old conversations was the closest that any of them would be able to get. Their timelines had been disconnected for good after the game had ended. A flash of teal and red crossed Dave's mind before he could stop them, and his frown deepened slightly.

Refocusing on what was happening on the desktop but unable to make out words at this distance, (not that he would want to, considering how personal some of these chat logs could be,) Dave lowered his shades slightly and expected to see that characteristic pale cerulean complimenting John's own deeper hue. It would explain why John wanted some time alone.

He was therefore surprised – and more than a little confused – when instead of any form of blue, the mass of text John had opened was a terribly familiar shade of ashen grey. Dave stepped away from the door and the obviously personal moment, trying to get his swirling thoughts together.

The smile – the actual, authentic smile – that had graced John's face as he read the grey text had sent an unknown stab of emotion through Dave's chest. The brunette had looked so damn fond in that moment, so sad and wistful while also managing to look happier than Dave had seen him in months, despite the fact that the majority of the text was probably cursing the humans' very existence. Despite those implications alone, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind that smile, a deeper layer that other people (himself included) were probably not supposed to see. Dave swallowed thickly, unsure of how much he had just intruded on John's personal life, and left wondering why the thought bothered him so much.

Returning downstairs quietly and leaving John to his own devices, Dave took back his seat on the couch, his brain refusing to relinquish one strand in particular; a strand which hurt in a way he couldn't explain. At least now he had a hint of what was going on.

That fond, achingly sad smile was the first genuine thing that Dave had seen from John since the game had ended.


Author's Note: I've been prompted to continue this, so I will!

I apologize for the short chapter(s), I'm trying to write a decent amount every day so I can update somewhat consistently. (Also, if I get too OOC with the characters, feel free to let me know so I can... well, stop doing that.)