Work Text:
Hallelujah
Bro Strider would like to say that he died in the most ironically badass way ever, but sadly, that was not the case this time. He died, being too cocky. A strife gone bad one would say, but not Bro. He had spent so many years training Dave to be prepared. He didn’t want the world to chew his Lil Man up and spit him out. So, he did what any responsible guardian would do. He beat his brother to a bloody pulp with his swords. He spent countless hours up on the roof of their shitty apartment, training Dave until the teen was exhausted and sore, sometimes needing stitches for the cuts Bro had left on him.
The final Strider Strife was not expected to be the last, but that’s what happens during accidents. No one could expect them.
No one expected Dave to roll forward.
No one expected Dave to drive his katana upwards.
No one had expected that dull katana, that damn hand me down, to go straight through Bro’s chest.
No one had expected the blood, the pain…the tears.
“Striders don’t cry Lil Man.” Bro rasped, falling to his right side, trying to adjust. He knew he should keep the katana in, not remove it, but the wheezing coming from his lungs, and the difficulty he had breathing alerted him to the punctured lung he was sporting.
Dave shook his head, applying pressure around the blade or trying to. It was difficult while Bro was laying on his side. Dave had been at the perfect angle, sliding between ribs four and five, straight through his lung. “Not cryin Bro, jus’ sweatin’. Outta my eyes man.” Dave hissed, his voice hiccupped on a sob. His hands came away with blood on them. A lot of blood. He was scared. He had stabbed Bro, in the chest! What was he gonna do without- No! Bro was going to be just fine! Dave silently assured himself, trying to urge Bro up. “Come on Bro, maybe we could stuff one of your felt spawns of hell into the wound to stop the bleeding, then stitch you up!”
Bro just chuckled, even that hurt. “Nah Lil Man, let’s just…stay up here for a bit. Won’t be long.” Bro hummed softly, trying to adjust himself. If he was gonna die. He would die comfortable.
Dave looked so…panicked. His stoic expression faltered as he watched his Best Bro, his Bro, lose his Texan tan. His normal caramel colored skin, was ashen, the blood loss getting the best of him.
Dave slowly lowered himself to kneel beside Bro, making a face as his knees rested in a puddle of warm blood. He gently placed one shaking hand onto Bro’s shoulder, going to stay with him. “Please Bro…Please…”
“Sorry Lil’ Man. I can’t feel my legs no more.” Bro said gruffly, His head listing backwards. He was seeing spots at this point, and it was getting harder to breathe. Damn punctured lung.
“Dave. Man, this is it lil’ dude. I ain’t gonna get all sappy, but there is some money hidden in my room…keep your ass afloat for a while.” He said softly, noticing Dave starting to shake his head quickly. Bro chose to ignore this though. He was starting to gasp for breath, his chest constricted tight. He looked up at Dave, pushing his triangular shades up, to they rested on his forehead, exposing his citrus colored eyes. “Dave. You’re a pain in my ass…but, youre my pain in the ass.” He choked out, his body trembling. He was fighting to take breaths, suffocating. If he hadn’t been so weak, he would be clawing at his throat.
Dave sobbed softly, hating that he was crying, but hating more that Bro wouldn’t be here with him anymore. He bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around Bro, holding the larger man, holding him through the shaking and jerking, silent gasping convulsed Bro’s throat, while full blown sobs wracked Dave’s body.
It didn’t take long for Bro to stop moving, laying unresponsive on the tarmac of the roof. Dave slowly laid him down, removing the katana from his chest, throwing it away from himself. He curled up against Bro’s chest, praying this was all a prank, a joke. The hours passed, and it slowly dawned on Dave that this wasn’t a joke. Bro really was dead.
Dave was all alone…