DAVE: STOP BEING YOURSELF.

You can't stop being yourself, because you are the most excellent person ever, Bro Strider.

Well, most excellent might be an exaggeration. You certainly aren't feeling too excellent right now. You currently have a cold. Perhaps it's the stress of re-connecting with your parents and shipping Dave off to them or perhaps it's because you stuck your head inside the freezer for twenty minutes because it was so damn hot. You are not sure which one was the cause. Neither one really seemed to be a good choice, so you don't ponder the matter too much.

You are right now cuddled the fuck up in as many blankets as you could find and staring at the ceiling with a look of concentration on your face.

You've had to cancel all of your gigs and stay in, which you've never liked to do but has become a necessity due to the amount of snot coming out of your nose. It's gross. Being sick is gross.

You're about to roll over and pass out when the phone rings. It's painfully tempting to ignore it, but maybe it's important. Maybe it's the president. Maybe it's your ex-girlfriend calling to say she'll return your really nice headphones. Maybe it's Dave.

One of those possibilities is the correct caller.

"You sound kind of sick, man. You okay?"

You sniffle as quietly as possible.

"I'm alright. Nothing serious. How are you, kid? Have m- our parents tried to kill you and serve your meat at a fancy dinner party yet?"

You hope Dave didn't notice that you almost slipped and called them your parents. It's hard, recognizing that they belong to him too, and vice versa. For so long, it's just been you two that to admit that Dave has other family is strange.

"Nah. You know...they're acting nice. Your-our- Dad. Dad seems alright."

You can tell he's struggling too. It's a transition for you both and the words don't feel quite right yet. You wonder if they ever will, and then wonder if you want them to.

"He's better than Mom usually."

That's all there really is to say on the matter of your father.

The phone line goes quiet but it doesn't feel awkward. It feels like home: like sitting at the table eating cereal for dinner and throwing ninja stars at the walls. It feels like he's sitting on the end of the bed, smirking at your weakness now that you're sick, and carefully handing you a mug of something unknown but tasty. You feel a little better.

"They put me up in your room. I didn't know you drew so much."

You feel surprise. You would have guessed that they cleaned out your room eons ago to make way for another kitchen or something else just as strange and wealthy. Apparently not.

"Yeah. You get more from me than the Strider good looks, you know. I was a really artsy kid. All my shit's still there?"

"Looks like it."

It's quiet again, but now you're thinking. Why wouldn't they clean out your room, or at least get rid of some of your stuff?

"Hey, Bro?"

"Yeah?"

"Lil' Cal has taken over the entire bed. I have no clue where I'm sleeping tonight."

In Strider speak, that means "Thanks for sending Cal along with me. That means a lot."

"Just shove him off. He's a bed hog anyway."

Translation: I just wanted you to feel like things were normal, even when they aren't.

You hear a bell ring off in the distance and Dave gives a quiet sigh.

"Dinner time I guess. Time to face the music."

"Good luck."

"I'll probably need it."

"Heh. You will. Bye."

"Later."

You hang up to the sound of Dave swearing as he tries to hang up his phone. When he gets back, you remind yourself, you need to get him a new one.

BRO: CONTEMPLATE SERIOUS MATTERS

You don't really want to, but you need to.

First off, there's what Dave said about your parents. They're being nice? You guess you shouldn't be surprised. They're probably just trying to convince Dave that you are just crazy and they never did anything wrong. You don't think Dave would believe them but the doubt makes you feel even sicker than before, if that was possible. What's their game, anyway? You are suspicious but you put it aside for a more troubling thought.

Dave also said that your room appeared to be untouched. That really gets to you. Your parents aren't lazy, by any means, so if they wanted to clear that room out they certainly would have done it. They also have never been too emotional (probably where you get it from) so the idea that they would leave your room as it is for sentimental reasons is a strange one.

But no other options are likely.

Unless this is a ploy for irony's sake. Hate son, keep his room as it is once he leaves.

But they were never into irony like you were, and it's not like it could be a stab at you. You didn't even know about it until Dave told you. Maybe they kept it in case Dave ever came by, like he is now? Twenty years is a long time to wait though, and for two of those years you didn't have Dave.

The sentimentality is the only logical reason, even if it is strange. Dave's trip seems like it's going to turn the things you assumed about your past over and bring new things to light.

You swallow and then make a face. Sore throats are a bitch, especially when added on top of a cold.

You sigh and curl deeper into your blanket nest. This is turning out to be more stressful than you thought it would be.

Still- it was nice to hear Dave's voice.

You roll your eyes at the thought. If this is what it's like now, what are you going to be like when he's off to college? You'll probably become one of those weird clingy guardians like you know Egbert will be. You'll call every day- no, every hour . You smirk at the scenario in your head and wish that Dave was here to share it with. You then sigh at the non-irony of wishing Dave was here so you could tell him about the image of you calling him all the time when he's gone.

Growing up is hard, you decide, and not just for the person growing up. It's hard, maybe harder, to be the one watching your charge grow up and realize that you have to let them go.

You roll over and prepare to fall asleep, like you did earlier, but this time around sleep takes its sweet time coming to you. You finally fall asleep with your throat aching just as much as your heart.