An electric current is running down Dave's spine, but he can't find it in him to move and release it. He wants to get up and pace, to go for a walk, do anything that isn't just sit here and stare.
But he can't.
Rose reaches over and smoothes his fringe. "It is alright, Dave. Just take a deep breath."
Dave can't breathe. His lungs won't work. He tries but nothing happens. Nothing at all.
"Come on, Dave. Relax. I am not forcing you into this, I promise. Just relax." Her hand drifts south, moving to touch the newfound mark on his stomach as if a peace offering.
The moment Rose's fingers light on his scar, brushing gently over the fabric, Dave snaps back into overdrive and springs to his feet.
"No. No. No."
"Dave, relax. Just think about this calmly."
"No, Rose, I can't. I can't do this. It's-it's so much money. I don't have any money, Rose, I'm a fucking hobo!" He rakes his fingers through his hair, bewildered. "I can't. Where would the money-Jesus fuck, I haven't even gone to high school! Even if you could get me in, I would flunk out of there first day, guaranteed!"
"Dave, calm down. I can teach you anything you didn't learn in high school, should you require it. There are shockingly few fundamentals you learn there, however; I have a feeling that it is maturity that makes college what it is, rather than legitimate education levels. You are smart. You are an adult. There is every chance that you could do alright, perhaps even thrive."
"This is fucking absurd! Do you know how goddamn ridiculous this is? It's a fucking sitcom plot, not my life!" He's shaking all over and he's quickly losing to the overwhelming panic.
"Sit down, Dave. Just listen to me. You aren't committed to anything yet, alright? It won't hurt you to just listen."
But it does hurt. It hurts to think of what he could have done, what should have been rightfully his to do. All the things he could have gone for, all the classes he could have taken, experiences above trying to make ends meet while living in back alley corners. In any other situation, it would've been okay, because in any other situation he wouldn't be Dave Strider, birdboy extraordinaire; he'd just be Dave. Dave the musician. Dave the photographer. Dave the taxidermist. It really didn't fucking matter, because any of those things would be better than Dave the hobo.
Dave is Dave the hobo, though, and he's got no money or clothes or education or shelter. He has pair of shades and a cell phone. He has clothes that will deteriorate faster than should be acceptable and about fifteen cents in his back pocket.
Dave is street scum.
His adrenaline rush now all burnt out, Dave sits down exactly where he was standing a moment prior. The grass is wet with evening dew, but he scarcely notices.
"I can't," he says, looking at Rose and feeling lost. "I can't."
"You can," she replies gently. "We have it taken care of, Dave. All you have to do is accept. We can make this happen."
"No." Dave buries his face in his hands. "I can't. I can't. I don't-I can't."
"You can. We can use Strider's records and the money I have gotten from my book."
"Rose, no, you can't, that's your-"
"Yes. It is my money and I will use it however I see fit. I do believe that an education for my big brother is vastly more important than literally any other thing I could purchase with it."
"Rose, it's...it's so much. You don't...you don't even know me."
"I know you, Dave. We still have catching up to do, but you are you and you are still my brother. No matter what colour you are now." Her lips twitch slightly.
"I...I have nowhere to live."
"You can stay in residence."
"I don't have clothes."
"I promise to provide you with all of the essentials. John will also help pay your way, Dave."
Dave chokes. "What. No. Why. Why the fuck would John chip in, I'm a fucking asshole to him."
"Yes," Rose agrees. "But he likes you."
"No he doesn't," Dave says automatically.
"Yes, he does. He wants to be your friend."
"And what, he's trying to buy that by sending me off to some school?" Dave narrows his eyes.
"No," Rose says, a faint strained annoyance in her voice. "He is trying to help give you the life you deserve because he is a good man and he happens to think you are friends."
Dave shifts, guilty. "...Sorry."
"Don't apologize to me, apologize to him," Rose says stiffly. "Your brother can send us the records. He is offering to help cover expenses as well, bu-"
"No! Bro can't pay!" Dave shouts. "He absolutely is not allowed to have any part in this, under any circumstance. Don't take any fucking money from him!"
Rose raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't comment. "I thought you may say that, so I politely declined. Between John and myself, we are rather well equipped at handling this, anyway."
The fight now thoroughly out of Dave, he just nods. "...Alright. And I don't have to do this?"
"No. It is your choice."
He stares hard at the grass at his feet, plucking a few stray blades. "Where would I even go."
"Well," Rose says mildly. "I do believe that my university has a rather reputable photography program, if you are interested."
This does interest Dave. He tries not to betray his thoughts, but he thinks Rose picks up on them anyway. He hasn't touched a camera in a very, very long time, but he had always liked to think that he had a knack for the art. He looks down at his hands, imagining the satisfying weight of a decent piece of photo equipment in them. Setting up a shot. Taking a thousand to make sure he got it right. Finishing touches. His fingers twitch slightly as he plays with imaginary dials and buttons in his mind.
No.
Dave shakes his head, dispelling the seductive thoughts. Fuck, he'd been out of civilization for how many years? Even if he was decent before, cameras would have changed a hell of a lot. Sometimes he saw them in stores, fancy and costing more than he had seen since the days of Bro's sound systems.
Sometimes even more.
At this, Dave is a little disheartened. He couldn't accept. The cost of schooling alone was steep; adding on things like camera equipment would be ridiculous.
"The school provides the majority of what you use. You rent pieces out and return them much like in a library," Rose says, as though reading his thoughts.
"Jesus Christ, how did you-"
"It's written all over your face, Dave. Unlike your counterpart, you've slipped over the years." Rose stands up and approaches, kneeling in front of him a short distance away. "It is okay to want this, you know." She brushes his cheek and he shudders.
When Dave finds his voice, it comes out as little more than a hoarse whisper. "It's not okay. I can't-I can't ask you to do something like that, chickie. It's so much."
"I think you deserve it."
"I'm...scared."
"Hush." Rose strokes his hair and he finds himself relaxing. "I know it is a lot to take in. Just consider it, hm? We can talk about this again when you are feeling up to it."
Dave nods slightly and Rose wraps her arms around him.
"Good boy." This time it's Rose's turn to press a kiss into the top of his head, and he lets out a tiny coo in response. "There. Nice and calm, that's a good little bird."
Dave nods again. "Yeah. Alright. Just...later."
"Of course. Come back inside now, Dave, it's getting cold. I will make you a warm drink," Rose soothes.
"I'm always warm," he says absently, still feeling a little charmed. He wonders where Rose learned to manipulate so well, so efficiently. He follows her, dazed, back into the house, and as she calls him to the kitchen, he finds he doesn't really care.
School with Rose.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
