Ms. Lalonde sipped from her wine glass, quietly staring at Dave from across the table. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Dave knew she was asking how his day went, but he didn't really want to go into any more detail than he had to.

Rose kicked Dave from under the table. "Mmf!" he covered his mouth to keep from yelling. Rose crossed her arms, "Dave, you know very well what she means. Just answer her."

Dave often wondered how the two of them could ever be related sometimes, what with Rose's proper behaviour and manners and his complete and utter lack thereof. He sighed, pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose. It had become somewhat of a habit for Dave. He never realized when he'd start to do it, unless Rose or Jade pointed it out first. "It was fine. Community service, what else is there? Do you really even have to ask?"

"Don't be rude," Rose commented, sighing as well. She was really beginning to get stressed over how her brother had been acting over the past few years. It finally caught up with him when he's been taken to do community service. Just as well, Rose thought to herself, maybe this will straighten him out.

Dave saw the look on Rose's face. He knew what she was thinking about. He always knew.

"Well, I can see dinner's over," Ms. Lalonde said. "Rose, help me with the dishes."

Dave slumped back in his chair. Of course she wouldn't ask him. She probably thought he'd break them. She had the right to think like that, though. After all, it was him who lit his school gym on fire. He pretty much figured his mom wouldn't trust him with much for a long while.

"So," Ms. Lalonde started, bringing the blond haired boy out of his thoughts. "You're going back to the hospital same time tomorrow, right?"

Rose looked at him as she washed the remaining dishes. He stood up, shoving the chair under the table and giving his family a glare, "Yes, of course, but you already knew that."

Dave's patience was practically nonexistent. He really didn't want to go back to Skaia the next day and suffer through the idiot nurse that told him not to talk to anyone. But, there was always that one guy—the one with the glasses. For some reason, since Dave came home that night, the dark haired teen had been swimming in his mind. He wondered why.

He sauntered over to his room. There was a ton of memories from his bro still lingering. Sweet swords, weird pony books, unfinished and finished puppets—the most famous being lil' Cal and of course, his shades. Dave kept those guys in a special case, even though they were cracked and broken, they were very important to Dave and possibly the best memory he had of his brother.

He remembered the days he and his bro had the same sunglasses, until he upgraded to more smooth ones. He thought about when he found them at that garage sale with Jade. She thought they were adorable, so he bought them, but he claimed he was only wearing them for ironic purposes.

He looked at the portable turntables he bought at yet another yard sale. Those things were fuckin' badass, man. Dave loved messing around on them, pulling out some fresh new beats. He used to play at the local coffee house with some of his pals, until the simple things like that no longer interested him. Those were the days drugs were all he could think about.

Dave hadn't done any remotely hard drugs for a while now, but that wasn't his own will. Rose, Jade and even his mother had made it their priorities to regularly check his clothes and drawers to make sure he wasn't hiding anything. They even went out of their way to occasionally tag along or follow him when he went out. That was the first time he experienced withdrawal. He couldn't manage to get away from anyone long enough to satisfy his needs, so he'd never been able to get his fix. He remembered how nauseous he felt, how much he'd sweat. It was the worst feeling in the world, but Jade and Rose took care of him. They stuck with him threw the shaking, vomiting, restlessness and they even stuck with him when he'd gotten a nasty case of the runs. That, he was not proud about.

He jumped onto his bed and grabbed his favourite pillow. It had a broken record design on it, much like the one on his favourite t-shirt. He didn't like to wear that shirt much anymore though, seeing as it was permanently stained with his brother's blood. He cursed Jack Noir's name and curled up into a ball on his bed.

"Dave," his mom knocked on his door. "The phone's for you."

Dave knew who it was. She always called him after supper, to make sure he was doing okay, even if she had just left him only an hour ago. He stumbled over and opened the door to grab the phone from her, "Hey, Jade, what's up?"

"Hey, Dave! I was just calling to check up on you," she said, but Dave knew she was lying. What she really wanted to say was: "I'm just calling to make sure you're still sober."

"I'm fine, Jade, you know I am. I'm not doing drugs, I'm not going wild, I'm just sitting on my bed staring at the ugly salmon color of the walls."

Dave could visualize her frowning on the other end, "Okay… Goodnight, Dave."

He hung up and threw the phone into a pile of colourful puppets in the corner of his room and flopped back onto his bed. He knew he'd regret being rude to Jade, but at the time he didn't care. He really wondered why his life was the way it was. Wasn't it good before? Why did he have to mess it up?

He sat up and pulled his shirt off his lightly tanned skin and threw it onto the floor. He looked to his left and slowly made his way over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

His bedroom and Rose's bedroom were connected by the bathroom they shared. There were two sinks and the moment they moved into their house, the divided up the space. Rose's side was full of purples and pinks and always smelled like blueberries or cherries. It was far cleaner than his side too—almost too clean.

He brushed his teeth for a while. He almost lost track of time it was so long. Dave liked the feeling of the bristle on his gums. It hurt sometimes when he'd been brushing for two long, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Dave thought he sounded weird for thinking such things though and tried to limit the time he spent on his teeth, but it never really worked.

He pulled his jeans off, leaving himself in just his boxers. He flicked the light off and he slipped into his bed, sighing in comfort and smiling as if that horrible version of himself never existed and he was a child once more, just eager to fall asleep so he could start over.

Dave Strider really wished he could start over.