Musickind

A Homestuck Fanfiction

DaveJohn / JohnDave

Chapter Nine

You are John Egbert and you are a newlywed spending your honeymoon with your wonderful wife, Rose Lalonde, who refused to change her last name. However, the two of you agreed that Rose Egbert did not exactly have flair and elegance. The two of you aren't doing anything too fancy. You rented a small cottage (yeah, didn't know you could do that, did ya?) in the countryside, something Rose had been dreaming of for a while now.

"John," she says, waking you out of your stupor and placing a hand gently on your chest. "Did you make the proper plans for our meals?"

Silence for a couple of moments. Then. You sit up very suddenly, startling Rose and making her jump slightly. Food! Wow, you are dumb. So dumb. You do a facepalm x2 combo.

"Oh, gosh, Rose, I'm so sorry!" you say, ruffling your hair with your hands and making a strange, animal-like sound. "I was so excited about leaving that I totally forgot!"

"This is why I insisted you let me know your plans," she says, giving you sigh and a gentle smile. How did someone as dumb as you end up with someone as beautiful and intellectual as her? Then again, she must have loved you very much to have put up with the gap in intelligence. She knows she could do so much better. Her reason for liking you was that you were "procellous and unpredictable and charming," all of which were her ideal traits in a man, you suppose.

"We can try hunting!" you suggest, but she laughs in reply, a hand over her mouth. She is such a lady.

"John, dear, you couldn't hurt an ant even if your life depended on it," Rose pulls the covers up around the two of you and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. It's a good thing her lipstick doesn't stain. "But if you do, I will not be complicit. It is not hunting season yet in this part of the weald."

"Hey! I've taken down imps before!" you retort, acting slightly offended. She arches an eyebrow and smirks. "Fine, I'll go see if the owner has any emergency food stocked," so you take her hand, fingers intertwined, and lead her into the kitchen.

Luckily for the two of you, there were canned foods stocked up. She cooks them up as best as she could, but canned food can only taste so good. It was late when the two of you arrived, so by the time you finished washing the dishes, there was nothing left to do outside.

"The sun has set," Rose points out. "Its lurid glare has moved on to younger timezones." Indeed it has, so you decide to go take a shower before slipping into a hopefully exciting night.

You finish bathing and contemplating the meaning of life, returning to the bedroom, only to find Rose with her legs to her chest and her head in her arms. You run over and wrap an arm around her, startling her. She almost elbows you in the face out of surprise.

"John!" she says, a bit out of breath and perspiring a little. "When did you finish?"

You know the situation all too well. Rose is having another one of her post-grimdark episodes. You've encountered this a few times before, but as of late, they have been getting progressively worse and worse.

"Rose, why didn't you call me?" you say, eyebrows knitted into a furrow.

"John, please, I can handle it," she says, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"Rose, don't try to prove anything," you say, voice almost breaking. The crack in your tone causes her to look up at you. You can't stand that pained look in her eyes. "Let me help you!"

"Stop it, John. It will only make the parting that much harder for the both of us," Rose replies, head down again.

"I know, we've already talked about this," you say, turning her to face you, perhaps a bit too aggressively. "I already knew from the start what I was getting myself into. But I trusted you and loved you. I love you so much, so please, let me help you."

Once again, she raises her head to look at you, studying your fierce gaze. At least, you hope it's fierce. You're not entirely sure you've covered up your fear completely or not. However, you know all is well when her lips curve into a smile and she wraps her arms around you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"John, you raised me from perdition," she whispered, touching your cheek. "If only for a short while. Of course I can trust you. You've always had my trust."

After giving her a few kisses on her cheeks, nose, and lips, she lowers herself onto the bed and beckons you to follow suit. You comply, and the two of you lie side by side, listening to the sounds of each others' breathing for a while.

"Rose, do you think about death often?" you ask, turning on your side so you can see her more clearly, without craning your neck. You run a hand through her hair, which feels, as usual, like silk. Gently, you take out her headband, which she has fulfilled in her promise to wear brighter colors of. "Do you fear it?"

"Since engaging thanatopsis more intentionally as of late, I have become more contemplative overall," she replied, turning ever so slightly in your direction and closing her eyes in consideration. "It is knowing what the future holds that frightens me. Not my future, but yours. A touch of weltschmerz, that is all. I am not nyctophobic."

"I've always admired your selflessness," you say, smiling. "And bravery."

"John, this condition of mine has rankled me for many years now," she said, pulling the sheets up again. "I've developed an immunity of sorts to it. I will not let it beat or scare me."

"What are you going to do?" you ask, drawing her in closer. Her skin was cool; you have always called her your personal air conditioner, albeit a bit ironically.

"Nothing," she replied simply. "It is metempirical. I will do my best to prolong it, but we have already discussed what shall be done."

"I'm just sorry I can't do more," you say. "I admit, I am a little scared myself."

"John, you are no milquetoast," she replied, smiling and chuckling lightly. You aren't sure what that means, but you hope it was a compliment. She tilted her head to one side with a faint glimmer in her eyes and she knows she has overestimated your intelligence once again. "You are the bravest and goofiest person I know. I have an almost unnatural appetence for you, my dear."

You laugh and take her face in your hands, kissing her on the lips. Little did you know, the next few years would bring on more episodes just like this. You would come home to find Rose curled up in a corner or on the bed, and you would spend countless hours just sitting with her tightly wound in your arms in an embrace. Other times, she would start to speak gibberish (Eldritch, she called it) without realizing it until she saw your confused expression. She would always eventually come through. Always.

Until one day, you woke up and she was not in bed with you. Instead, in her place, was a written note in her familiar, perfect lavender cursive. It was the final farewell.

Both you and she had no family, having lost your father and her mother during the Sburb session. There was no one to share your pain, your suffering. No one to notice that Rose had disappeared. So you held on to that grief by yourself. You fulfilled your promise and moved on, but never forgetting. How could you possibly forget? If you love something, you never forget.

"And that's that," you say, turning to Dave. He's staring down at the black and white keys, not really knowing where else to look. Slowly and awkwardly, he places a hand on your shoulder.

"Shit, man, I'm sorry," he says, unable to meet your gaze. You suppose that is a good thing, because you don't think you could have held his anyway.

"No, it's okay," you say, resting your elbow on the piano and your chin in your palm. "I knew what I was getting myself into. She didn't want to get married, because she didn't want me to end up alone. She knew the grimdarkness was going to get her one day. We just didn't know it would be so soon. But I was persistent and wouldn't accept no for an answer."

"You must have loved her a lot, huh?" asks Dave, breathing out slowly.

"I still do," you say. He looks away slightly, and you think you might have said something wrong, but you decide to keep quiet. You don't want to accidentally say anything else that may hurt him.

"Egbert," he says after a bit of contemplation. He turns to you with a serious look on his face. "I need to tell you something too."