Chapter Text
After hearing the strings that Ensnared you to a certain puppet snap so hard you thought you felt blood pour out your ears, you also got to have a feathered version of your brother, who was nearly bisected and had an actual limb of his amputated, bleed to death in your arms and well you know Fuck this shit.
You had finished your task of starting the scratch on the Beat Mesa before that fucking Hard-shelled clown went Rabid Dog on your ass and wrecked your shit (killed your brother.) So now, your new objective is to keep the Brother Death Toll (which is a thing now) to a god damn minimum.
You know, for reasons beyond you, a few aspects and rules about The Game. Like how you know you had to scratch that giant floating record, or How you knew your brother would be associated with Time.
But now, the true implications of your brother's Aspect in this game leaves you feeling sick.
How many times has your brother died by now? How many ways has he died? The accumulation of the numbers these questions could have as answers sits in the pit of your stomach like swallowed lead. (it's still too much for you.)
(Feeling.)
You've been flying on your rocket board through a few gates when you spot him.
Unfortunately, seeing Another Dave, who was currently messing around with some heavy game machinery on your old apartment roof, does nothing to quell the gross anguish you felt watching the winged Dave die.
(Winged. like an angel. Like it was some sick joke with a punchline that he was going to die no matter what-)
It actually brings the feeling back full force.
He hears you coming, the board's motor reaching his ears. He turns towards you with a flinch, but tries to relax as he shouts up at you.
"Bro!? Where have you- What the hell happened to you?? Don't tell me you actually got your ass kicked out there by some shitty ass imp-"
He might have been expecting you to land after hearing you, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting to get his smack-talk get cut short with your chest to his face, your arms trapping him.
he freezes in your embrace, but you couldn't give a flying fuck. This cathartic relief washes over you (you can feel) seeing him moving. Hearing him ramble like an idiot. to be alive and breathing and not hear a wet gurgle surround his voice.
You don't know if he is just in shock or is just humoring this sudden bout of brotherly affection, (It never happens. Let it happen.) but you're grateful for it nonetheless.
His stiff form does squirm eventually, a hesitant attempt to escape your grasp. (Before this, you think you heard a faint, tinny "D'awww." coming from a speaker in his shades. but your brain dismisses it as unimportant noise.)
"Uh, Bro? what the hell is even happening? " He asks.
You can already guess he's thinking this is some sort of ironic joke just from hearing the word 'Happen' being said. Everything had to be a joke between you two. Jokes are funny. Jokes are dismissive of anything serious. if things were not played for Laughs, then…
(you were not allowed. you didn't, couldn't allow it.)
You don't blame him if he did.
Dave takes a quick whiff of you and that drives him to push back a little harder.
"Dude, ugh no seriously bro, you are getting this sticky yellow shit all over me it's rank af, wtf even is this-" Hearing this does make you let go and step back.
you look down on yourself, arms still raised, post-hug. Even though it is bright acid yellow, the censored nature of it's hue does nothing to keep the knowledge that you are currently drenched in your brother's blood at bay. You look up to a shadow to your left and realize some of it got on your shades as well.
The next steps you take backward are swayed with a stumble to it, much to your chagrin. It nearly drives you back into smothering your emotions to death like you had been before 'The Cut.' (It is the only way you know how to defend yourself.)
You raise your hand to your chest. You feel the small disk hidden beneath your shirt.
Your face continued to stay stoic and expressionless as you snag the cord around your neck with your fingers, pulling it forward, your words still lost and scrambled to voice what happened properly.
you see his eyes go wide for a second before his brow scrunches up behind his shades, mouth turning downwards, understanding the implication.
"Well fuck. And I thought throwing myself out the window would be the end of the Dead Dave death parade. Future me better get his shit together."
You internally balk.
You don't dare give any type of thought to what came out of his mouth just now.
Just. no. Your New Task starts right the fuck now.