A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a long time and finally managed to. For context, this is the more elaborated backstory for a prison!AU version of Dave from a very short lived RP I did a few years ago. As someone who really doesn't enjoy him in canon, I found this an interesting write.

Since it's not mentioned, everyone who is named is in their upper 20s-lower 30s.

Don't own any of the characters, they belong to the makers of Total Drama.

Also there is some description of blood and burn wounds but its not overly detailed. Plus one swear word. So if that stuff bothers you, you've been warned.

On to the one shot!

His hands were starting to crack from all the soap he'd used to scrub away the filth. After every drying he still felt the dirt and scum on his skin, all around him in the air, on every surface.

It was such a shame that the muck he'd so feared had seeped into more than just his fingertips and palms and knuckles.

She'd kept him feeling clean longer than anyone ever had. The air had always been crisp and kind around her, not so heavy and dirty and...disgusting as it was now.

His breath was sharp as he finally stepped away from the sink, staring down at his hands; the lighter skin of his palms was red, agitated from his efforts to wash away the last of her touch; so vile it had been to even be near her after what she'd done.

"I'm sorry, Dave, I was going to tell you sooner-"

"Were you really? Or were you just gonna wait til I caught you?!" The blankets looked rumpled and messy. Her hair did too.

"Hey, man, let's not wake the neighbors-"

"I couldn't care less about their opinion or yours, Keith!"

"Dave wait-"

"Don't touch me!"

He sighed, curling his fingers in until they formed twin fists. The dull sting on the surface of his skin was nothing compared to the pain that had followed the slamming door and the shouting and the burning sensation from where she'd taken his arm and tried to coax him into listening as if she wasn't the one who'd lied and cheated how could she do this to him after everything!-

He left the bathroom light on as he walked stiffly out into the rest of his small apartment, the cramped space built for one and priced for four. The floor was spotless, as was just about every surface that was able to be touched. His steps were careful, planned, but lacking purpose.

He managed to guide his feet to the tiny couch where he placed himself on the plastic-wrapped cushions with a crinkle and felt himself lose his breath when he spotted a pair of her shoes by the door. He'd been so blinded by anger last night that he didn't notice they were still there from when she'd been over the last time, just a couple days before.

"I'm going home, I can't stay in here with you right now-" Her bare feet hit the floor uncharacteristically hard. Her hand clenched the doorknob while the other kept her coat haphazardly wrapped around her shoulders.

"What did I do this time? Why won't you talk to me anymore, Sky? And it's raining out there! You wouldn't make it two blocks-"

"It's not you...it's me." The door shut, the only remaining noise being the raindrops hitting the window.

She'd always said that when she appeared less than fine. As if it would fix anything, like that was an excuse for acting distant and cold and god he hated the cold.

He stared at the purple sneakers, neatly aligned with each other, the laces tucked into the shoes. If only everything in his life were so tidy...

...

...perhaps they could be.

"...maybe I'll give them back," he decided quietly.

It was incredible how quickly a simple task could make a terrible day even worse.

He'd bagged the shoes carefully, making sure not to touch them by way of disposable gloves he always had available in his pocket or in a box on the countertop.

Walking to her place didn't take long when his legs moved at their top speed. He'd had his car repossessed last week and couldn't be bothered to take his bike when it really wasn't that far away.

She lived in a small house that he'd hoped to move into with her before things had been destroyed between them. It was more than enough room for two people...wait, she only had one car, the purple sedan with the automatic trunk and extra cup holders, she'd looked so gorgeous whenever she pulled up to his place sat behind the wheel-

You're kidding, he thought as he approached the front door and leered at the second car parked in the driveway. That's his car.

His hand was so tight around the bag strap it felt like his finger bones would snap any second, his still raw skin rubbing against the plastic. He used his elbow to press the doorbell-he'd run his blue coat through the wash later-and waited for her to come to the door.

He heard muffled voices on the other side after a few minutes of painful silence. He only caught the last few bits of conversation.

"Should I tell him to get lost?-"

"Just ask what he wants-"

"Alright-"

The door finally opened. He had to look up, and-

"Hey, um, what's up?" Keith asked with tension in his broad, athletic shoulders, as if anticipating an awkward conversation. He glanced down at the bag in his hand.

He took a sharp breath in and almost felt like gagging, it was so gross inhaling the same particles as him- "Sky left these at my place," he said with his teeth clenched. "Shoes."

"Oh, okay. I can, um, take those for you-" Keith reached over to take the bag, his effort thwarted with a jerk of an arm.

"Don't you dare come near me," he suddenly threatened, taking a step back. "I didn't come here to hand these off to you. You shouldn't even be here." He felt his hands shaking. "I want to talk to Sky and give them to her myself." The longer he stood there the harder it felt to breathe. His hands burned even more. He might have started to bleed onto the bags from the tearing of the fragile skin on his fingers but for once he didn't notice right away.

Keith frowned slowly. He actually stepped towards him and leaned down so their faces were closer. "She doesn't want to see you right now, Dave," he said flatly.

Not this shit again he thought angrily. "I don't care if she doesn't want to see me, I need to return these shoes and you're in my way," he growled. "And you don't have the right to speak for her."

Keith sighed dramatically. "Look, dude, I know what happened last night probably didn't look great, but... it was inevitable."

Inevitable.

It was inevitable that he would feel himself tear apart from the inside, losing the one thing, the one person that had made him feel warm and clean and that the world maybe wasn't out to eat him alive?

No, no that couldn't have been inevitable.

He pushed past Keith and made it past the threshold for a few moments. "Sky?!" he called out as he evaded Keith's much stronger arms. "I know you're here, I just wanna talk to you!" His voice was strained from partl physical exhaustion from the walk over and part emotional turmoil that was boiling inside him with every word.

"Don't worry, he'll be leaving shortly," Keith called out as well.

He glared at Keith before pressing on into the house. Only when he thought he'd found her did he feel the scorch of Keith's hands wrenching him back towards the door. "Let go of me!" he protested fiercely, struggling until he heard a second, familiar set of footsteps.

She looked tired, clearly didn't go into work that day, and hadn't done her normal feel-better workout she'd picked up while they'd been dating. Her feet were bare and she stood up straight. "...you're bleeding, Dave," was the first thing she found herself saying, her voice quiet and concerned.

His hand did feel sticky and warm, but for once he didn't rush to find the sink or a bandage because the overwhelming urge to burst into anger or tears or something was eclipsing his normal paranoid instincts. He instead tossed the bag at her feet, some of his blood coating the handles and drizzling down the side slowly towards the floor. "I don't care," he replied in a low voice, his bleeding hand curled into a fist.

"I'm sorry Sky, I tried to keep him out but he slipped by-" Keith started to apologize as he kept Dave mostly immobile.

Sky put a hand up, causing him to shut it. "Let him go," she requested. "I think you should leave for a little while, Keith. I...I need to talk to Dave alone."

Keith hesitated briefly before letting go of him, walking out of the room entirely.

The silence could have shattered a knife. He waited for her to explain herself-

"Look...I've thought this for awhile and…we aren't good for each other anymore, Dave...I didn't want things to end so badly between us but you weren't answering the phone last night and Keith showed up and, I don't know-" Sky spoke honestly and ended up covering her eyes with her hands. "I didn't think you'd come over so abruptly."

"Why, why didn't you say anything? Why him? I didn't do anything wrong, and if I did you never said a word about it, I can't know what you're thinking if you don't talk to me," he replied quickly and with confused anger, stepping towards her.

She took a step back. "I want to talk to you but you never listen!" she raised her voice. "I tried to explain last night before you ran off-"

He stared at her, losing the ability to breathe for a few moments. She was really so oblivious to the sheer impact that night had on him. He managed to inhale the dirty air between them before shakily replying, "...did you really think I would stick around after finding you in bed with Keith?! Are you really that stupid? I used to think you were the smartest person ever but I must've been wrong because wow." The smell of blood was starting to actually hit his nostrils and he wanted to vomit but couldn't; his stomach churned but there was nothing there, because how could he have eaten after seeing that?

"...at least he cares about me more than invisible particles in the air," Sky said with a shutter. "At least he can keep a steady job and pay his bills on time and can make me laugh." Inhale and exhale. "You've only been getting worse, Dave, and I couldn't let you take me down with you." Her eyes appeared to be watering.

He was speechless. So that was it? Sure, he hadn't held a firm job for a few months and the electricity had shut off a few times at his place but- that really mattered to her? Suddenly the past two years of being together meant nothing?

"When did you stop loving me?" he had to ask. "At what point did you start stringing me along and pretending that I still mattered to you?" He knew there had been a shift with her after he lost his last big job but their communication had never been very good-

"I never said that, I never stopped loving you-" she tried to clarify.

"No, no people who love each other don't start sleeping with their friends!"

Sky sniffled and frowned. "Don't act like this is all my fault because it's not. I wouldn't have done what I did if you'd ever been present instead of giving everything else attention and care but me, 'cause I'm not just another object you can wrap in plastic and handle with rubber gloves."

He took in what she said and slowly smiled a strange smile that was more a grimace than anything. "You're right. I can't disinfect you. It's far too late for that," he said with an eerily calm tone as he stared into her soul. "You'll never be clean again, after what you've done." His memories with her warped and turned in his head. Every touch, every kiss, every night in the same bed…just more and more reason to believe it.

And she'd never get the chance to take her words back.

He wouldn't let her.

He wouldn't let her hurt him or anyone else ever again.

He left before he really exploded because it felt like it would happen any moment now, leaving the bloodied shoe bag on the floor and Sky breathing quickly. Keith was quick to return to her side, and he heard him comforting her as she'd begun breaking down crying.

So she cries in front of him, he thought as he took in the sharp and chilled air outside, only seeing red.

That's cute.

She really should have asked for the key back.

He found it in the drawer where he kept any and all keys to anything a few days later, after many hours of tears and shaking and drinking too much of the wrong liquids for his mental state. He hadn't left the apartment during that time, he had nowhere to be and no one to see. A few text messages he ignored, that was all.

All he had left now was time to think, and think, and…

the longer he thought the longer he found himself holding the dull kitchen knives in his cupboard...no, too messy, he'd be scrubbing himself for days...and stumbling upon the container of extra gasoline leftover from the last time he'd been to the gas station in the building's garage, and some matches, and...no, wait, he was smarter than that. He couldn't just torch the place.

He didn't have enough juice. He'd have to think inside the house.

All real, rational and moral thought he could ever hope to have was gone, replaced with his anger and paranoia and resentment and everything you don't want someone with access to your home to feel towards you.

What else was he supposed to do? Move forward? Get a job? A therapist, maybe? Their offices always smelled funny to him, like expired air freshener. Vile.

He didn't need one anyway. There was nothing wrong with him. He was normal. It was everyone else that had a problem.

He made sure to wash his hands over and over again before he left, reopening the tears and cuts and cracks on his palms. A pad, disinfectant, and some gauze would have to do, there were too many little spots to bandage. A pair of gloves would secure them for the day to come.

He waited til the darkness came. He chose to bike this time, the canister secured on the back. It was a dry and cloudless night.

That would be fixed momentarily.

Boiling killed bacteria, after all.

The bike was the wrong call.

The air was choking him for real this time.

This had gone so very wrong but so very right.

She'd been alone in the house, sleeping the night away, when the front door had been opened.

And the oven had been turned on.

And the gas stove.

And the scented candles she kept in the bathroom were lit and tipped over.

The smell of a gas station hit before the smoke did. He dropped a match a second too early but managed to get out before he could realize his hair had caught fire, and his sleeves, and his leg, oh no that's not good-

By the time the flames had reached his skin he'd pitched over knees first onto the front lawn, soon after he'd thrown a final match onto the tiny porch in front of the door and the gas container for good measure. He could see the flames curling around the window frames and smoke billowing inside where he knew her bedroom was. A hissing sound soon emanated from the kitchen and a loud bang went off, shattering the nearby windows and-

Ringing in his ears. The beeping of the smoke alarms going off. The pain of the burns and the cuts from the glass slowly eating away at his coat that he could barely take off in his current state. He tried using it to combat the fire on his head but he was too late to save most of his hair and definitely too late to avoid the burning of the skin on his arms and leg or the ashes creeping under his clothes.

Barely making it home, he blacked out as soon as he stepped into his apartment, leaving his bike in a position to get stolen.

The only thing to wake him was the sirens.

He had never felt so ugly. His previously warm brown skin on his arm looked blanched and blackened and all the wrong colors where fire had graced it. It pulsed with pain in a concentric circle around a spot of numbness, of nothing. He felt nothing on his right bicep, his left forearm or his left calf but felt everything around it. The flecks of ash still present had left smaller burns all over where fabric had not been. His head radiated intense heat, but not nearly as bad as on his limbs. He could barely change his clothes without gasping from touching the barren spots, let alone even attempt to dress them so they weren't so exposed.

The loud knocking on his door as he was scrubbing his skin of the ash that had stuck to it after removing his coat could barely compete with the ringing in his ear. He only acknowledged it after running his arm under water didn't stop the pain and probably would make treatment worse, he didn't know. There were tears in his eyes that still stung from the smoke and his throat felt incredibly dry. He coughed every so often and he was waiting for that damned knocking to stop!

"Sir, we have reason to believe that-oh my," the cop at the door, a shorter but strong woman standing beside her partner with a shocked look on her face. She yelled behind her at the backup vehicle. "Get me an ambulance stat!"

He hacked for a moment, his chest aching as he leaned on the doorframe heavily. "Somethin' wrong-"*cough*"-officer?" he asked dryly.

The first officer's partner spoke up, much more energetic. "You're gonna be brought in for questioning about a house fire that happened three days ago!" Too loud, too loud. "Not arresting you yet, we gotta get ya spruced up first." She gave him an up and down, recoiling severely. "Yup, might need the burn center for that," she said with a nod.

Burn center? Arrested?

...maybe the pain and the coughing and the ringing will go away...

"...sure," he replied to the officer.

They waited for the ambulance to arrive and take him in. He'd collapsed shortly beforehand, as the officer had been talking about her time on some reality show thing in her youth.

His last look at the outside world was the opposite side of his apartment complex through bleary eyes, watching a couple enjoy a drink together on their balcony, holding hands.

I hope they sanitize.

It took several months to even begin scratching the surface of rehabilitation. The news caught the story and ran a quick three minute segment on the tragedy, only scraping the surface until he was well enough to submit to questioning.

"Arson suspected in Toronto house fire case that left one dead and the prime suspect severely injured. More on the story at 10."

White walls turned to wood walls turned to hard concrete and bars as time blurred and stretched. His arrival in his new long term residence left him with no control of his environment, surrounded by the types of people he'd always avoided, and would continue to, because they never washed a day in their lives; one of them even left her mark on his arm with her teeth. In short, it was a rough beginning for this new stage of his life...

But in the end, Dave regretted nothing.

He'd boiled away the bacteria.

That was all he'd ever hoped to do.

That's that! Please leave a review if you have any feelings about it. I haven't written a real and true one-shot in a long time so feedback would be real swell. Also lemme know if I should change the rating because I'm not super sure about it atm.

Laters *jetpacks away*