You're surprised when you get a text from an unknown number telling you to come talk to Dave. You texted the number back asking who it was. You received a short answer.
"Bro"
And that was all you needed. You asked your dad if you could hurry over to Dave's and speculated the entire drive. You'd been worried about him, he hadn't texted you in weeks after all. It was unusual. Usually he was the first to text you in the morning with a flaming bright wall of red letters. Maybe it was because you'd been an ass to him… You shake the thought from your head, but it stays firmly planted in your cranium and you suddenly dread confronting Dave.
You shift uneasily in the backseat of your dad's car and before you know it you pull up outside of Dave's apartment. You suddenly find yourself sucking in a breath around your protruding front teeth and stepping out of the sedan. Your father tells you to call him when you finish with your business, saying he will be there promptly afterwards to pick you up. You thank him for the ride, worrying slightly on your bottom lip.
You don't know what to expect when you nervously knock on the door. Before your knuckles can make contact a second time the door is swinging open to a lean man in a white shirt and ridiculous sunglasses. You only have a moment to ponder why Dave thinks he's so cool before you're practically being pulled inside. You're pushed in and barely catch yourself as you stumble backwards. Your mouth opens in protest but Bro just shakes his head, effectively shutting you up. You're looking at him expectantly and you can tell he's hesitating.
"What's up?" you feel the words escape your lips and they're surprisingly business-like. You like this no-bullshit voice. He seems a little annoyed that you even asks, then just smooths out his white tee. You practically have to hold back laughter at how lame he is.
"Dave. He hasn't said a word to me in a week. Hasn't left the house in even longer. That and he seems to have mutilated the shit out of his arms." At the first parts you almost roll your eyes. You knew all of that. But at the last part you feel your gaze harden and lock onto Bro.
"Wait, are you serious?" you fumble with your words and feel your eyebrows knit together in thought.
"Why would I call your doofy ass here to fix this if I wasn't fucking serious." It's not a question and the tone of his voice makes you flinch.
"But.. What do you want m-me to do?" you curse yourself at the stutter and the helplessness of your voice. His lip twitches in what you guess is irritation.
"I don't fucking know, you're the kid's best friend. I'm sure you'll figure something out when you see him." He turns away like you don't have any more questions and points to a door down the hall. "Have at it."
You glance to the door for a moment, and then back to him with uncertain eyes. You finally build up the courage to move, though, and head towards the door. You try to make your posture and steps confidant for show, but when you turn to see if Bro is watching you any more, he's gone. You sigh and turn towards the door. It is an obstacle now. You bring your hand to the crafted wood and knock. You can hear a small shift from inside and wait a moment. He doesn't come to the door and you're a little worried. Your next knock is slightly frantic and you're biting your lip again. Louder shuffling. With a huff, your fingers clasp the door knob and open it to the bright room.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you see. His room is a mess, worse than usual. Clothes are layered thickly in piles and wires branch around the floor. But what really makes your eyes pop is Dave. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at you with the eyes of a cornered animal. His mouth is open and you can almost see the splits in his lips from here. His hands have a vice grip on his sheets and his knuckles are white from the force. You take a moment to think of what to say and can't come up with much.
"What the fuck is going on, Dave?" Your voice is surprisingly steady. "What the hell is going on with you?"
His face is immediately drenched with horror. You take it that he wasn't alerted to your visit. He looks… Horrible. He's deathly pale and looks sickly. You want to run over to him but only manage a step inside, a strange smell in the air.
"J-John.." he stutters on your name and you feel your heart clench at the roughness of his voice. "Why are you-?" his voice trails off with a rasp and he still has that look plastered onto his face.
"Dave." Your voice shudders a little and your eyes are darting over him frantically. "What's going on? Why are you closing yourself in like this? We haven't spoken in a few weeks! Why won't you answer my messages?" you shut off the flowing valve of questions and look at him expectantly. You're hurt. You're hurt by him ignoring you. You're hurt by the neglect he's obviously been showing himself. You're hurt by the fact that you let it get this bad.
He's your friend. Friends are supposed to be there for each other aren't they? Why couldn't you be there for him? Why did it take his asshole brother asking you to get you to come visit and see what was up? You can feel the stinging in the corner of your eyes and wipe them hurriedly with the back of your arm. He's staring at you, his face uncharacteristically twisted with emotion. You can't help it; you run to him. You almost trip on the power cords layering the floor, but finally get to him and pull him into the tightest embrace you dare. His shoulders dig into your forearms and you want to punch him. You want to hurt him for not eating. You want to punch yourself for not being there to make him.
Your face is buried in his neck and you sniffle against his skin and damp hair. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders hesitantly react and move his arms up and around you. You gives you a small squeeze and you want to cry because he's just so damn weak. You hold him tighter and murmur something almost intelligible to him.
"I'm sorry…" you can feel his body tighten against your arms and you would shake your head if it wasn't in the crook of his shoulder. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on.." He stiffens up even more, despite your gentle hold. You finally let your arms fall away and pull back. His arms slide off of your back and he looks up at you with strangely open red eyes. You give him time to reply, not pressuring him, and instead pulling up his desk chair so you can sit facing him. It's a minute or two before his gruff voice finally sounds.
"It's.. Nothing.." you squint at him and furrow your eyebrows.
"Dave, this isn't nothing. You haven't talked to anyone in weeks and you look like you haven't eaten in days." You reach your hand out to give him a reassuring pat on the knee but he flinches away and you pull your hand back awkwardly. "I promise you can tell me anything, even if it's my fault." He seems to tense slightly at that, but you disregard it.
"John, seriously, I'm fine. It's just a phase." He seems to be speaking a little easier at least. "Don't worry about me."
"Dave. Don't you dare fucking lie to me. If it's because I was an asshole to you, then I'm sorry. I'll be less of a douche, but you can't do this to yourself!" he's giving you a questioning look now as if he's pondering you.
"How could this ever be your fault, John? And there's nothing for you to even be at fault for, so you can tell Bro that I'm fine and go on your merry Egbert way." His voice is short and choppy and the look of shock has faded.
"Dave, don't even deny it. I know something's up. It's my job as your best friend to take care of you." You stress the words and lean forward expectantly. You tried getting a glimpse of his arms that you'd heard about, but a baggy long sleeve shirt put an end to that.
"John, I'm seriously fine. You don't have to worry about m-" he's cut off by you.
"Take off your shirt, Dave." Your voice is demanding and his face tints pink and goes right back to the look of shock.
"What? Wh-"
"Take it off. Now." You try to sound menacing, you need to see what he'd done. He hesitates for a long time, then stands and looks down at you as if asking why. You just nod and lean back a little. He grips the bottom of his shirt and looks at you again before biting his lips and pulling it over his head. Your eyes want to immediately go to his arms, but they stop. They roam over his torso and you want to vomit at the sight.
He's literally covered in lacerations. Your mouth hangs open and one thought passes through your head.
Holy shit.