Your name is Dave Strider, you are twenty-six years old, and today is a lot more important than you had thought it would be.
The air is dead as you stare at one another, not a single breath taken in. You would like to say that this situation is what's stealing your breath, but it's been so much more than that. It's been evenings petting the hair of a boy than isn't yours, it's been jokes about something so dear to you, it's been halfhearted chestbumps that tease you so, it's been dates you have no choice but to support. It's been lonely nights when your only friends are colored text on a foggy screen and a half-empty bottle of alcohol. It's been an eternity without your breath, that damned John Egbert.
And you feel as if this will only solidify that.
"Dave, I didn't know-"
"Of course you didn't," you murmur, standing and brushing imaginary dust off your trousers. "That was kind of the point." And now you're walking away, because although you don't know much, and you often think you are the biggest dumbass you've ever known, you know you need to get out of here, and fast. You wish it didn't happen this way, but you know exactly what he's going to say, and your sanity simply cannot take it simply sitting around.
"Dave, wait!" he exclaims, hurrying after you as you walk away, and you have to admit, it's actually kind of a nice feeling - having him chase you. But it's not the way you want it to be regardless. He's not in love with you, he feels bad for you, and that's all you've always known it could be. And you turn around, wanting nothing more than to yell this at him, to tell him to just fucking stop and let you leave, but you can't, not when he's looking up with those beautiful, blue eyes. Those eyes that tell stories of vast oceans and lovely, peaceful nights - those eyes that hold so much joy in them while at once causing so much to all around him. You can't do that to those eyes.
"I'm not really used to this so, I don't know what to say, haha..." and he's laughing, while grabbing onto your arms to flatten them at your side. And it hurts, because he knows how upset you are, even though you don't look a bit like it. "Just take a deep breath, okay?" and you do, and for once it feels like you're breathing, and that almost hurts more, because every time you've felt like this, it's gone so soon, so fucking soon and you can't handle not being able to breathe again after this. You need to hold him and have him as yours but no, that wouldn't make him happy, you'd never even think of suggesting something that would do that.
"See, there ya go," he's smiling, and fuck he's so adorable, you can't do this, you can't, you're resisting every urge in your body to force your lips against his and dig your nails into his waist and just sob as you kiss him so fucking passionately. But exactly that, you're resisting, that's all there is to it. Because there's no other option.
He takes a deep breath (so easily, how does he do that?), squeezing your arms again comfortingly. "So... how long has it been exactly?"
"We are not fucking discussing this," you stare down at him, serious.
"Dave, no, this is serious, come on. How long?"
No shit, it's serious. You know that more than anyone. And it's building and building and you are not fucking ready for this, not ready. You want to tell him it's just a passing crush, you'll get over it, but you can't lie to him, but you can't very well say thateither...
"Just a little homocrush, no big deal, it'll slide on through," you force out, nodding and avoiding eye contact. God, with anyone else this would be so fucking easy but with him you feel like such a shit liar.
He frowns, and you can tell he's seen right through it, those black eyebrows knitting together. "Tell the truth."
And you're boiling, a heat of frustration fuming and festering inside you and the burning of your lungs simply will not leave! You can't do this, you can't, you can't, you simply can't and he's pestering you, trying to get an answer out and you know that if it weren't with him this would help, if you were in love with anyone else and he was getting you to talk it would help, if you didn't know it was all so hopeless it would help, but that's not the way it is so it is only killing you.
"Fourteen."
"Huh?"
"Fourteen fuckingyears, John. That's how long it's been. Fourteen years of my life wasted on some... piece of bullshit that doesn't even fucking matter!" You're tearing away from him, and the heat is getting worse, stinging throughout you. "Ya happy?"
Your teeth are bared and your red eyes wide, but the heat leaves you empty and cold when you look down at him and his eyes are shaking. Not in fear, but in remorse. In a pity and a shame that he hurt you somehow. And that's why you never wanted to tell him - even though he often saw through you, you never wanted him to worry or think you weaker than he already saw you.
And now that all meant nothing.
Bags forgotten in the guest room, you leave, like the coward you always knew you were.
tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 8:45 PM
TT: Dave?
TG: yeah what
TT: I wasn't expecting you to message back, aren't you driving?
TG: yeah so doesnt matter
TG: i cant be tamed jesus
TT: Yes, clearly.
TT: But I didn't pester you to reprimand you for your driving habits.
TG: what for then
TT: It's about John.
turntechGodhead ceased pestering tentacleTherapist
gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead[TG] at 9:04 PM
GG: hey dave!
TG: yo
GG: i heard about what happened :((
turntechGodhead ceased pestering gardenGnostic
tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 3:07 PM
TT: Are you home now?
TG: yeah
TT: Okay, no more avoiding me then.
TT: Let us unravel all your worries from days and years prior.
TG: sounds riveting but really i have a fucking job
TT: You left without letting John know if you are still friends.
TG: what
TT: He thinks you don't want to be because of your display.
TG: no shit fuck no i figure thats his call
TG: i mean damn come on awkward as shit
TT: I am aware of how your mind built up and believed he would react.
TT: But he's not just your best friend.
TT: You're his too.
TT: Talk to him.
tentacleTherapist ceased pestering turntechGodhead