"Bro?" you asked quietly, barely more than a whisper.

The man before you looked you up and down, face expressionless, and took a sip of some orange soda.

"Don't just fucking ignore me!" you shouted, frustrated.

Then, he finally spoke. "Why are you here?" You scrambled for words before he moved past you and took a seat on the hospital bed. "Answer me."

"B-because...I don't know...I didn't know you would be here so I just-"

"Then get out."

You stood still and silence floated around you. Part of you was ready to abscond right out of there but you took a deep breath. You were an adult now. He didn't scare you anymore. "No."

He scoffed. "What a little rebel. You gonna hold your breath too?"

You gritted your teeth.

"I remember what you said."

Bro stared at you blankly.

"When you got stabbed. You apologized."

Bro looked away from you, fixing his eyes on the window despite the curtains being drawn.

"I wanted to say that I don't forgive you. I can't. I never will."

You turned around and put your hand on the door frame as you started to leave the room. When you heard him speak again. "I meant it, ya know." You froze. "I'm sorry."

You ignored him and walked straight out of the apartment and started your flight home.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" You began to rant to yourself. "I can't believe him. As if he can just show up out of fuckin no where an expect me to forgive him? After all he fuckin did to me? I still...I still jump when Jane's dad fusses..I just can't deal with fuckin parental figures anymore! They so much as raise their fucking voice but half of a goddamned decibel and I'm nearly into tears. It ain't fuckin fair." You continued on and on for a while, flying over the scenery. You wish you could admire it but the tears were coming almost full force.

"Even now! Even now I'm pissed at myself for fucking crying and why? Why? Because of his bullshit "Striders don't cry" fucking nonsense." You reached into your pocket and pulled out the sticky note. You ripped it up into tiny pieces and let it fall through the air behind you and you found your way back to home.

You walked right past Karkat and John who were deep in concentration in a guitar hero battle. You heard Karkat let out a trail of fancy cuss words as you locked yourself in your room.

As much as you hated it, you found yourself lying on your back staring at your ceiling. The only thing on your mind was him.

You recalled the way, when you were younger and still in school, you had been called to the office for being covered in cuts and bruises. You had lied. No one had ever told you to lie, but you knew how serious the strife session would be if they called Bro down to the school.

You hated that you constantly tried to make it okay. You tried to tell yourself it practice, he was training you, preparing you for the game. But you knew that couldn't be true. He had no way of predicting the game. He wasn't helping you - he was just an asshole.

At the same time, you could recall him tossing you a juice box and cracking open a pizza box and popping in some blockbuster movie. You always loved those nights. Sometimes you'd fall asleep and wake up in your bed under the covers. Other times he'd wake you and fuss at you for missing the best parts and you'd rewatch a couple scenes and laugh all night.

There was one memory that always stuck out to you. You couldn't have been more than six years old. You remember sitting at the hardly ever used dinner table early in the morning. A colorful, pointed hat sat upon your head.

Bro had his back to you at the stove when you heard him yelp and you jumped. He gripped at his hand for a moment before he grabbed the pan and pulled it over to the garbage can. He scraped off a burnt pancake and basically threw the pan into the sink. The water hit the hear a puff of steam flew up. Bro gripped the edge of the counter and hung his head down.

The room grew silent except for the sizzle of the pan. As that faded out it was replaced by something you never heard before. It sounded like sniffling, but that can't be right, because it was coming from Bro.

You hopped out of your chair and padded over to him. You started to reach for his shirt but pulled back. You gave him a tiny punch in the side. "Dad, Striders don't cry! Remember?"

You heard him take a big breath before turning to face you. His cheeks were red when he squatted down in front of you. " That's right lil man." He stared at you for a moment before he dropped his head. "But hey, don't call me dad, aight?"

You tilted your head to the side. "Why not? Ain't you my dad?"

Bro stood back up and put you back in your chair. He crossed his arms and couldn't look at you as he spoke. "Kid, I...man, I didn't wanna do this on your birthday, but you're old enough to know. I ain't your dad. I don't know whose kid you are. I-I just found you. Took ya in. I thought we could be like brothers ya know?"

"Brothers?" you asked, your interest piqued.

"Yeah, ya know, bros."

You didn't really understand what he was saying. But from you'd gathered at school, parents sucked and they didn't do the cool things bro did. You smiled and held out a little fist. "Bros!"

You watched his mouth slowly crack almost into a smile and he reached his fust for yours. "Bro-"

You quickly flattened your hand against his, "Turkey!"

You could practically feel him roll his eyes under his shades as he grabbed you in a headlock and rubbed his fist against your head. "You little shit!"

You giggled but it eventually hurt. That afternoon was the first time you strifed and the first time you were completely terrified of him.

Your name is Bro Strider and boy did you fuck up.

You knew it was a horrible idea to take in this kid but you went through all the trouble of getting him back into the system you might as well adopt him and see it through.

You named him Dave. You didn't have any reason or rhyme to it, it was just the first name to come to your head. The kid had nothing on him. No paperwork or prints or anything. Granted, he couldn't have been more than a year old when you found him. You never understood how he had survived until years later when he had a hand in bringing about the apocalypse.

He grew up like other kids for the most part. You were distant. You didn't know how to interact with other people especially not this tiny fucking baby. You always thought he was so cool though. You loved to strapping him into his carseat and turning up some beats. Most kids would dance and laugh to music but not Dave. He'd bob his head, maybe swing his legs, face blank like yours as the road stretched on front of you.

You cherished those days. You wished they'd never ended.

Eventually, however, they did.

He started school and before you knew it he'd put in headphones before you were even in the car.

You knew that was your fault though.

The first day that kid held a sword in his hands you knew he'd be great. He could kickass with a little work. And you pushed him. Hard.

You knew that wasn't the whole story though. You enjoyed watching him fall and standing over him. You liked to win and you always did with him. You didn't care of he went to school beat up. It was his fault for not fighting harder. Besides, that's how you were raised too.

If you want to survive in this world, you have to be tough and Striders never cry. That's what you've been telling the kid since the start. If you don't have a thick skin, you'll never make it.

But that was then.

Dave was all grown up.

He had saved the world, become a hero, while you did, what, sat in a hospital bed recovering? For how long? Pathetic, just pathetic. You should've been out there helping him and fighting along side him.

Now, though, he doesn't seem to want anything to do with you, rightfully so.

That was all you could think about back then, how angry you were at yourself for hurting him. While we played that game you had gone off on your own. It started off as a way to clear your head but mostly you were trying to help him in anyway you knew how.

So you fought and fought and fought, and ultimately lost. You thought that apology would be your last words but you were given another chance. A way to make things right.

You knew you could never erase the past or correct the you had done, and you knew he didn't owe you any forgiveness, but you were a Strider dammit and you were going to do everything you could to change the future.