Sorry this is so short! A ; But there's only so much I can write in order to not give anything way too quickly! Enjoy nonetheless!


Your breath hitches in your throat and your cheeks are flushed a humiliating shade of crimson. You had imagined you'd have more self-control than this when (or if) the moment arose. But you're on top of him and he's kissing you and you're kissing him and god you just cannot stop. He's making soft mewling noises, noises of submission that thrill you and encourage your hands to snake up his shirt, pushing it up to his chest. His hands are in your hair, tousling it into a shock of golden mess, while both pairs of glasses rest askew in your faces. You let slip a soft sigh between your lips as you feel your heart flip-flop uncomfortably in your chest but god, this is so right. Every passing second of this is so, so, right. And you would kill over and over to get this feeling – this moment – with him again.

"Dave?"

His voice is breathless and mystified, obviously a little shocked at the situation as well. But he doesn't protest to this at all. In fact, he's wriggling against you, creating some sort of friction that makes you gasp softly.

"Daaaave," He's whining now and his voice seems detached from his body, almost as if the voice wasn't his own.

"Dave! Haha, wake up!"

You jolt suddenly the scene melting away and being archived into your consciousness for you to ache over later. Your eyes open, blearily and you realize that you had fallen asleep and Con Air was over, the credits scrolling by on the screen. John is hovering above you, grinning that adorable buck-toothed smile and god, you wish that you could wake up to his face every day. But that won't happen. You've conditioned yourself to believe that that won't happen. But instead of being happy to see John, you're mad. You're upset and exhausted and emotionally drained all of a sudden. Why couldn't he have let you sleep? At least there you were happy and time actually stood still for you. But now your awake and the sand of your dream is slipping through your fingers and you're scrambling for it back, knees in the sand around you and digging, desperate to keep what you can't fucking have.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan loudly, obviously a little irritated. John pawns it off as just grogginess and sits on your legs, straddling you and grinning. He doesn't get what he's doing. He doesn't understand that this is killing you. His touch, his laugh, his smile, it's all ripping you open at the seams and you can't stop bleeding, you can't patch up the wounds of your unrequited affection.

But you can't let him know that no matter what. You can't hurt him by telling him how badly his plucky disposition is driving the sword in deeper. You can't bring up a subject that has been silently deemed as taboo. You don't want to make him uncomfortable and you don't want to drive him away from you. Living in your personal hell with John is better than living in your personal hell alone.

The weight on your legs is suddenly gone and you notice he's crawled off of you and he looks a little upset. Something dark is clouding over his eyes and you wonder if maybe you've already hurt his feelings. But you know you haven't. He's fine. He has to be. He's John.

"You know you're my best bro, right?" John said softly, glancing up to you. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. What's going on? The world is spinning and you're unable to hold the reins to your life anymore. What's John getting at? You remain calm as you nod.

"Yeah, man, we're the chillest fucking bros in the history of forever," You say. John smiles at this, his gaze distant as though recalling a faint memory. You wonder what's on his mind all of a sudden. So you prompt him with a short question.

"What's going on?"

And almost as if this broke John from whatever sudden mood he was in, he jerked and looked up, grinning wide. "Nothing, you doofus! I'm just wanting to remind you that we're the best bros in the world!"

And your world crashes again, your walls cracking just a little more and making you feel a little less protected behind the facade you've built up for so long. But of course you're Dave Strider and you'll be damned if you let your inner-turmoil show.


Your name is John Egbert and you just backed out of telling Dave you loved him.

You feel ashamed that you can't just come out and say it. But you feel like if you don't sometime soon, you'll end up ruining any chances with him and you'll lose him forever. But if you just come out and say it, he might get freaked out! And plus, it's his first evening here and you don't want to make it awkward for him. But at the moment, you had been so sure that this would be okay, that he'd accept it and be happy and kiss you, even! But the memory of the awkward conversation between the two of you a couple of weeks ago kept clicking through your mind like a roll of film and you know you can't just be casual about it. You can't just come out and say 'I love you!' because what if that's too sudden? What if he thinks you're joking this time around? What if he ends up hating you?

No, you're over-thinking things.

But that still doesn't change your direction of verbal communication. You back-pedal a little bit and switch up your words. You look at him, hoping that he didn't notice the seam in your words, that he didn't pick up on the fact that there was more to say (god there was so much more). He doesn't seem deterred and you take that as a victory. He smiles faintly at you, one side of his lip turning up more than the other in an amused smirk and he nods.

"Yeah, Egbert, I get that. You don't need to reassure me."

His sounds sincere and you trust that he is, giving him a grin back and watching that smirk turn up a little bit more. God, those lips. You wished you could just reach out and sweep your own against his, to touch his arms, his hands, his jaw. To relax in his hold and let the emotional burden just bleed out from you. But you can't approach this lightly. Dave means the world to you and if you aren't careful, you'll push him away.

Your name is John Egbert and you don't know, for the life of you, what to do now.