You are now Dave, yet again, and you are flipping some shit as well.

For a few minutes, you sort of amble around the small occupied part of the asteroid, once again engrossed in the depths of your mind, searching frantically for a course of action to act upon. Sure, you've experienced this before, but it wasn't the same. Also, it was about five years ago. Since then, he's told you everything, and you're not really sure what you did to get it out of him then. And then what do you do? On Skype, you really just sit there and take it, but you aren't on Skype. You're here. You suppose that once again, you'll just have to wing it.

After this "revelation," you begin to actually search. It must be your ironically lucky day, because you find John the first place you look. Laying across his small bed, in his smaller room, limbs in all directions, staring at the ceiling.

After closing the door quietly, you do the Strider thing; stride. Right over to the side of the bed he seems to have mistaken for that place where gymnastics people stretch before a game or whatever. You don't know shit about sports.

You stand there like the coolest idiot ever for about a full minute.

"Um-"

"Dude we need to talk." It's out. Was that so hard? In hindsight, not really. The buildup sucked, but it came out of your mouth effortlessly.

He doesn't say anything, but he does respond in a way. He scoots over and gives you this look. You won't pretend you know what it means. If you were a look reader, which you aren't, you'd probably say it said, "I know." but you aren't, and you aren't about to be that presumptuous either.

You aren't quite sure what to do, so you just sort of kick your shoes off, and sit crisscross next to him on the bed, and keep talking.

"You've been avoiding me." You aren't sure if that's a statement, or a question. All you get back is a grunt, as he sits up, and gets into crisscross as well. You don't know what the grunt means, which fits, because what the hell does anything else mean either?

"Why?" John's eyes sort of widen, only a little, and he goes slightly stiff. He isn't saying anything, but he isn't really holding it back either. You can practically see the resolve around him.

"I." yeah John? You what? You don't voice these thoughts of course. That is not how you get someone to say shit. Especially Egderp. You just wait. Like you always have, and have always been rewarded for.

Feeling somewhat restless, you hesitantly reach over and put a hand on his shoulder. He does this weird, half flinch thing, but you look past it; he's been through some shit in the past. Regardless of what people may presume, you actually DO like physical contact. Not in some creepy sexual way, or anything, you just like it. You assume John does too. He seems like that kind of person.

"Don't freak out or anything. I just really don't wanna deal with that, and I don't want things to change, and I don't need things to be meddled with. I don't mean that you're meddlesome, but I don't really know how you're gonna react to this, and it's way nothing like anything I've said before" He's rambling again. He did this a lot over the two years spent on Skype, trying to say things he didn't want to think about. And you already knew it'd be different. How the hell would Ethan, or Nick or any of those other bastards be able to spit in his face and put on their cigarettes on his stomach when last anyone had heard of them, they'd been left for dead on Earth?

"John. You know I can't just not do shit. After everything you've been though, anything that fucks your brain this much needs to be dealt with." Anything serious enough to even register to him in not to be blown off.

Another pair of those eyes that are possibly saying they know.

"I'm in love with Karkat." You would have said something along the lines of 'no shit' or 'yeah, so?' You don't though, because you need him to keep talking. Or rather, he needs to keep talking, and it's your duty as bro to make sure he does.

"And he doesn't love me," You roll your eyes. All of this is stuff you know. Thank the gods(not really. Fuck them. Assholes. Thank John, he gave you them) for your wonderful shades, "in fact, quite the opposite. He hates me."

Oh hell no. This is not going where you think it is. No. Fuck no. HELL. FUCKING. NO. You knew he used feel black for John, but that's the point. Used to. God fucking damn it.