Hiii, It's just me. The loser admin that updates once in 7 blue moons, you know? Yeah that one.

Thank you all for reviewing and stuff on this, it means a lot to me, seriously! I'm astounded that people like this haha.

And yo-No the character Aradia in this story could have been anyone really. I just like Aradia. So don't worry. She's just here to be a doll. uwu

===Be Dave Strider, Just Dave. Dave Strider. Agent 001, Too cool to copy.

February 24th.

Hell yes.

Hell fucking yes.

How many times has that gone through your head today within 5 minutes?

You're not sure.

Not enough. So let's go once again.

Hell yes.

You approach Aradia at your usual pace, who seems a little bit more hawk eyed for your arrivals lately. However, her brownish orange orbs behind her glasses are locked on your binder in hand.

Her pen placed delicately on her lip stick plastered lips before she used it to point at it.

"Whats that?" She questioned a little bit curtly. Making your roll your eyes and groan slightly.

"The most ironic thing is history that has ever come to this god damned building besides me, myself, and I." You say, rolling your eyes behind your shades for the extra dramatic effect. Sure, she can't see your eyes. But you hoped she could feel it, somehow.

"That doesn't answer the question at all, Dave.." Aradia sighed, leaning back in her chair to glare at you dully. To which you smirk at and roll your shoulders.

"Ah, Sorry deary. Special eyes only." You inform her before stepping away from the desk to count your ever so familiar tiles before taking the stairs.

Sixty-Two tiles.

4 flights of stairs.

You hate stairs.

Whatever. It's good leg warm ups, right? You can hear Bro scoffing at you right now.

After basically sprinting up the stairs, and attempting not to be winded from it. You arrive in the same room. Same room as always.

However.

He's awake, Sitting up in his bed with his blankets stopping barely on his chest. Hospital gown in all it's glory.

Blue orbs are focused completely on you.

"Dave..?" He asks, voice still laced with the after effects of sleep, and it's enough to make you smirk. But you don't. But you do. In your head.

"Yo man, What're you doin' up?" You ask, shuffling into the room and attempting to hide the binder as you flop into the chair by his bed, however you know he's seen it. Not really anywhere to hide a bright ass blue binder.

"I.. That doesn't matter.. Why're you already here?" He mumbles with a yawn before glancing away and back to you.

"It's 9:32, what the hell Dave.." Ah, He was looking at a clock. What a cheater. This game isn't fun.

"I came earlier than normal. I woke up when Dirk got ready for work today." You lie. You lie straight through your teeth. You love coming here early and watching him sleep. Woah. Holy shit. Back that the fuck up. Reverse reverse. That's.. fuck.

He stares at you, okay squints since he is missing his glasses, for several seconds before sighing.

"Isn't Dirk a night DJ?"

Shit.

Abort mission.

Agent 001 has failed.

Holy fuck shit fuckity fuck duck your butt shit.

"You have to prepare you turntables and shit during the day, dude. You can't just go there and expect to be perfection. Hell no. You have to bake it, bake it and keep with it until the oven is just right. And then you throw it in and let that baby sizzle. Sizzle it nice."

"What?"

"I'm not really sure either."

He rolls his eyes and you and gives you grin at this. "So what's the binder, Dave?"

Ah, yeah. Shit.

"It's actually.. Really.. Nerdy."

And close to your heart.

Everything.

You love this binder.

Not as much as the boy in front of you.

But you love this binder.

"What is it?" He asks you again as you place it in your lap dully. Glaring at the binder intently.

You are a Strider.

"A photo album."

A nerdy Strider who makes photo albums.

"What? Really? I want to see." John tells you slowly, scooting slightly over in the hospital bed and patting the new found space beside him.

You gulp down your pride and walk over to the spot. Flop onto the bed, and hand him the glossy blue binder.

It took you hours to work up the nerves to do this. You hope it will be worth it. It takes him a second, before he opens it, and flips the first page of photos. He laughs, pointing at a picture of you and him, clearly a selfie taken by you while giving him the bunny ears. He's smiling his buck toothed smile in it.

A true smile. You miss it.

"I remember this picture! It was our 6th grade end of the year field trip! You took some guy's cotton candy and then rode-"

"The scambler and basically puked everywhere. Yeah let's not talk about that."

"Hahahhaha, But it was so ironic of you!"

"Shut the fuck up, Egdork."

He snorts a little, cute as fuck, before flipping more pages and slowly glancing at you.

"Dave?"

"Yeah man?"

"This is just pictures of you and me.. Where's rose and everyone else?" He asks, blinking at you innocently as you avoid eye contact.

"This is our binder. Just.. Good memories of us, you know?"

It's silent. He's staring at you. Silently. God, thank Bro for teaching you lessons in poker faces because wow. John is a toughie.

"Is it because I'm going to die soon?" He asks you meekly, a frown on his lips. And a iron weight on your heart. Strider over board. May day. Mayday. Ahoy. Avast ye sailors, You need a life jacket for this sea of tears in your soul.

"What? Fuck- No. Dude, no! That's.. fuck.." You groan at him, and lean your head back, frowning to the ceiling. That's not it.

"Then what?"

I love you Egbert.

Why can't you just say it?

I love you John.

Say it.

"It's complicated." You mumbled, crossing your arms and looking back to him, who seems focused on a picture of Halloween.

You were vampire that year, and he was a ghostbuster. Again.

"I don't have as much time as you, so please just tell me.." He says, a choked sob at the end of it.

You can't help it.

Your arms are around him in a choke hold as you clutch him for dear life.

"Because I love you."

"I love you too, dude."

"No John. Like, I'm gay for you." You mutter slowly, and he's quiet. You can't even hear him sob.

You can't hear him do anything for a long while. He's just... silent.. Not even moving.

"I'm not a homosexual, Dave.." He says, pulling away from your grip and staring at you. He looks.. horrified?

"I...I know but.. It's just.."

"I'm not a homosexual.. Dave." He repeats, almost in a angry tone as he .. glares.. at you? What.. is going on here?

"I know!" You tell him, of course you know. Of course you god damned know!

"Please just leave.." He tells you slowly, making you die. You. Are dead. there are no resurrections. This is it. You tried, and failed. Why? Why?

"John I.."

"Dave, Get out.." You don't realize it until you feel the tears hit your hands that you're bawling.

You can't even stop it.

You're crying without sniffling. You're numb.

"Okay.." You say slowly, getting up and walking away. Glancing at him dully. It hurts. To even look at him. He looks... so pissed off? Why? Why?

What did you do?

Why did you do it?

Why?

Why do you have to be such a fuck up?

Why?

"Keep the binder.." You tell him numbly, leaning on the door frame. Still crying like a fucking child. God damn it. And then you choke. You fucking choke.

You want to die.

Why? Why did you tell him?

You choke as he tosses it harshly to the ground, and stares at you.

"I don't want your memories."