Chapter Text
A week ago. It’s been a week since it happened. When Dave had finally snapped after the last time they’d clashed swords on the roof. He hadn’t expected to, he hadn’t wanted to, showing weakness, hesitating, it was everything he’d been trained against. Being so genuine for even a moment opened him up for mockery. He hadn’t wanted to start crying but the sword had slipped out of his hands, slick as if covered in slippery blood, and he’d dropped to his knees. Bro had stopped too, pausing amidst his blurring movement to watch him drop. Dave had wanted to wait - wait till he was older, till he had his own house, till he’d met his friends in real life, till he could be free from any punishment or consequence. But at that moment, he couldn’t think of doing anything else. But cry. Bro had stopped. Completely. Just blankly staring as his sword disappeared. No comfort immediately made available. After all, Dave had been so careful to never show him a scene like this in the past that he was more stunned than anything. Hesitant, shining with the weakness in him that he’d taught Dave to never show, he’d crouched next to him and waited.
“What’s up?”
The simple, almost sincere question made Dave want to vomit. Where did he start? How do you unpack everything that he was crying about? It wasn’t even that he’d lost - of course he was going to lose, he always did, his big amazing brother was far too skilled to be bested by the lowly likes of him - but the fact that they’d fought at all. That he’d had to fight him again and again on the roof and feel the shame of the defeat in a battle he’d never been allowed to refuse. That he’d never found food in the fridge and had to live off of his own supplies. That he’d lived in fear of the puppets everywhere and the fact there could be a boobytrap at any step he took. That Bro always kept him prepared for anything but the only thing he’d ever had to fear was his own guardian. Dave hadn’t meant to tell him that he knew it was awful, to show that he was so deeply hurt by it, to open up about how he’d traumatised him, he didn’t want to show any of that to his Bro ever - not until he could be certain he was safe to do so and that the fucker would even listen. But he couldn’t help it as he cried, tears sliding down his glasses and splashing against the hilt of the sword, the setting sun tinting the droplets red like blood. He said it. He said it all. He didn’t make sense but fuck if he cared. It was half cursing anyway. Just a constant stream of cursing and crying and accusing and then finishing off with the question.
“Now what?”
“Just- fucking- I can’t live knowing I’m the one with the shitty parent so now what? I lived through all that shit and now what? What do I do now, I can’t leave you and I can’t live like this anymore and I can’t escape and I can’t do jackshit about anything.”
Bro listened to his whole rant, his eyes masked by his stupid anime glasses, unmoving. At the end of his whole speech, he sucked in his lip ever so slightly, unnoticeable to most eyes, and his hat cast downwards in the smallest of motions. His walls were up once again now that Dave’s were let down. But when he opened his mouth to speak, it was neutral, curious.
“Do you hate me for that?”
Dave stared at him, shocked and then angry. It felt like he was just ignoring it all. Like he was just brushing it all off as if it was nothing. He wanted to scream at him. He wanted to say he hated him and he wanted it to hurt. But to the impenetrable defences of Bro, that wouldn’t matter since he never cared about anything enough for it to hurt. Even then… he didn’t know whether to just lie and say yes. Or admit to what he hated about himself - the fact that he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not entirely.
“...Yes. No. Fucking- bitch, I do both ok? You’re an asshole and when I realised it I had nothing else I could call you but you’re also my brother and I hate that. Why did you have to be so- why did I have to get the brother that’s a bitch? I can’t even- I wish I could hate you so much, you know that? I wish that I could just hate you for being bad or that you could be better so I could feel like I can love you. But neither is happening huh? So it’s just-”
Dave let out a cry of frustration and leant back onto the ground of the roof.
“It’s all useless. I don’t know why I even told you.”
Silence.
He didn’t know what he was meant to expect other than that. Maybe a scoff. An insult. Being told he was the thing that was useless for not being able to keep up - that he should just adapt if he knew what was good for him. Maybe worse things even. Maybe being thrown off the roof even - he knew his brother was strong enough to. Or maybe he’d just be ignored, with Bro stalking off to just disappear into his room and maybe he’d get bombarded with smuppet butts to say “so what” to his face.
But none of that happened.
Bro sat on the surface of the roof and laid down next to him, not moving even as Dave flinched away.
“Ok.”
His voice was thoughtful, deep and neutral but acknowledging. Despite the short reply… it didn’t feel mocking either. Dave thought it’d end like that but after a beat, Bro made a noise, like he was struggling to speak and say something else. Eventually, he sighed slowly through his nose.
“What if I try. To do that. Be better.”
Dave scoffed.
“As if you’d do that, fucker.”
Bro sounded exasperated in response, half-snapping as his dark tinted shades turned to him.
“Then the fuck do I do, Dave? Say sorry? Would you even accept it if I did?”
Dave shrank away from his words. Bro cursed softly, readjusting his shades as he turned onto his back, looking up at the sky. In the silence, Dave dared to quietly, gently say, afraid of if Bro would hear him but still hoping he would anyway.
“That could be a start.”
Bro didn’t answer for a long while. They both just lay there under the turning sky and watched it revolve around them, ignoring their small existences. But as Dave finally got up first, he heard.
“Sorry. Shoulda been a better bro.”
And then he left his older brother to stay under the stars.
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Bro spent a lot of time thinking about that day in his room in the following week. He wasn’t sure where to start in changing. Who could he even go to - he’d royally fucked up so badly he didn’t even want to share his sob story with anyone. Dave had retreated even further into his room since that day. It seemed he was afraid of what would happen to him now he’d spoken so much. It had been hard enough to talk to him much before - not that, Bro now realised, he’d ever properly tried in the past - but it was even harder now. Mindlessly tapping away at his computer, Bro hunched in his chair and updated and reworked small details of his websites. How he lasted so long like this, he didn’t even know. At least expenses weren’t too tight when he didn’t have to worry about anything other than what he needed - shit. Wait.
Pausing in his typing, he mentally went through the list of needs he would write whenever he bought things for the house. He’d always decided that Dave needed to stay on his toes so the kid could handle a little less than normal, money was tight after all. But that bar for normal… how low was it now? How much did he actually buy to take care of the kid every week? Calculating it all and comparing it with his own expenses, he let out a deep sigh of frustration. That was the truth huh. He barely got anything for the kid weekly. And he was so used to that spending habit, how was he meant to factor extra things into his groceries every week now? Glancing up at his websites again, he rested his cheek against his hand, feeling his fingers slide behind his shades like a claw gripping at his face. Maybe he could do an extra gig…
“...Hey Bro?”
Bro didn’t move even as he registered the call, hesitant and faltering slightly. Without looking away from the screen, he answered in a flat tone, loud enough for him to hear in the other room.
“What.”
“...You busy?”
From the voice, it sounded like Dave was being ironic. Or trying to mask his true meaning with irony. A pathetic attempt really, so to show him how it’s done, Bro answered sarcastically.
“Yeah I’m up to my asscheeks with puppet ass orders, gonna be at it all evening.”
“Oh.”
He hadn’t expected the kid’s answer to be so disheartened. Looking at the doorway, Bro waited for him to speak again - had his sarcasm not come across? Shit, he hissed at himself, he hadn’t done much to indicate he wasn’t serious at all. A shaky laugh came from the other room, forced, and an ironic answer replied.
“Yeah, I’m busy too, my comic’s been needing a lot of retouches recently. Gotta keep at it...”
Bro waited again. Dave didn’t say anything else. Without moving his mask, he got up from his seat and walked to the door. Puppets lined the walls and tripped over his feet as he slowly walked towards the glowing light of Dave’s room. Silently, he waited at the door, peering in. Dave looked like a crumpled ball of paper, sitting on his chair with his limbs folded all around him. Shit.
Tapping on the wall to make his presence known, Bro watched as Dave looked up with a startled shock, instantly jumping out of his chair and landing painfully on the floor. Fear filled his face as he looked up, briefly as it was quickly replaced with a neutral apprehension but it was still there. Bro used to revel in that fear, the feeling of knowing he was the powerful one here. Now, he realised just how fucked up that idea was. He couldn’t stop the feeling of pride that surged within him, at how Dave had instantly gotten to his feet, the feeling of disappointment that he even noticed the fear, at how it had flashed so clearly on his face. He couldn’t stop any of it and half of him didn’t want to but the other half was starting to feel so disgusted with himself. But he wasn’t here for himself. He was here, he was meant to be here, for Dave.
Moving with only a small jerk and a short look to the side, Bro shook his head gently and then looked around at the room, fixing his glasses’ gaze to the window and the view outside of it. Dave didn’t relax but he retracted his strife specibus - carefully watching him the entire time. Waiting until he had watched him do nothing for a minute or two, Bro breathed in his silence and the disgusting power he held over the kid, before saying.
“...I could use a break. Do you want to take one too?”
It was an invitation. He didn’t know how to word things any other way than this vague bullshit. He could see Dave restraining himself from gaping at him and waited. The kid’s jaw clenched.
“Nah.”
There was something hiding in that scoffing reply. But he wasn’t going to show it, was he.
“I got a lot to finish up, can’t slack off on my godly duties can I?”
It was hesitant with short pauses, faltering as if he wanted to answer differently. Maybe he was still angry with him. Maybe it was too soon to try that. Bro stopped himself from sighing. Whenever he met with Dave face to face, he knew how every little action would indicate his words for him, it used to be imperially empowering - that any little thing he did could affect how Dave would act. But he didn’t want to use that power right now. It was… too soon.
“Sick raps and compelling storylines don’t just make themselves, you know.”
Dave walked over to the computer and seated himself at the chair, clicking onto a website and then getting absorbed in its screen. His meaning was clear so Bro moved away from the door, walking back to his own room. There, he sighed deeply. Fuck.
He could feel himself getting angry - pissed off that he’d tried but it wasn’t working. What else did he want from him? He was trying to make time for him now, that should surely count for something right? What was the kid even thinking of doing, he sounded like he had been trying to ask for some time anyway! Storming throughout his mind, clouded anger nearly misted his sharp shades before he took them off and rubbed at his eyes, the amber irises looking up at his ceiling. He’d say Dave was ungrateful but who could really blame him? His thoughts went back to his shopping list…
If Dave was still angry, he couldn’t help that much, could he? What use was it to blame the kid for reacting to his own fuck ups. He sighed again. His vision blurred after rubbing his eyes so much but still, he fixed them onto the screen. Fuck whatever he was feeling right now, he said he’d try right? He’s just gonna have to keep at it and hope it works eventually. If it didn’t… he could at least do better to make life for the kid more bearable until he could move out. Surely a shitty brother like him could do that much at least, right? Tapping away at his computer, he breathed out slowly through his nose again, feeling a thought escape with the air.
What if him being there was what made things unbearable? Or rather, him not being there?
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