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There is fighting again. Dave can hear it travel up the stairs, pounding relentlessly at his closed bedroom door. Inside, he sits on his bed, his weighted blanket pulled up over his head as he tries to regulate his breathing.
He doesn’t bother skulking around on the stairs to figure out what his parents are fighting about this time; he’s done that in the past as a kid and it never led to anything positive mentally. Besides he knows the reason, it’s the same fucking thing that led to the fight two days ago…and two weeks ago…and a month and a half ago when the accident happened and they received the news.
He wraps the sides of the blanket tighter around him, letting it push him onto the bedspread. That’s enough permission for the memories to push through too.
He hates hospitals, absolutely despises them; everything bad happens in a hospital, everything disgusting originates within those pseudo-pristine white walls. Those buildings are crawling with death and disease more than any graveyard or funeral home ever can hope to achieve. The first time he went into one was when he was barely a year old and his weak immune system had left him nearly dead; from then on he knew sickness isn’t something to take lightly—hell, he nearly died from it, that was some serious shit.
Now, fifteen years later, that distaste for hospitals nor that fear of disease hasn’t disappeared. When he stepped foot into the establishment that holds his brother, it was like he could feel the sickness crawling up his arms. He’d crossed his arms and clenched them so hard his nails bit into his vulnerable skin as he and the rest of his family strode up the stairs to the ER.
Doctors moved out of the way…or they moved forward, insisting they can help, that they can do anything for the great Ved Jha and his family, and Dave had been sick for a totally different reason at that. As soon as they had stepped inside, he had felt the eyes, crawling over him as bad as the diseases; they were judging him, analyzing his worth.
Well, too fucking bad for them, he never has much of that in the way they expect. And he hates them for trying to force something onto him that makes him as extraordinary as the rest of his siblings. Jaydha gets the silver tongue and the political knowledge (and influence), Viola gets the sport's prestige and extroversion.
And Gabriel…
His brother has so much going for him, and Dave never wants to see him lie so still on that damn white hospital bed ever again. When they all piled into the room and he saw Gabriel like that, he came very close to throwing up.
Against the white pillows, Gabriel’s dark hair fanned out, his brown skin stark against the brightness of the room, everything about him was recognizable to the public eye…but to Dave, it was like he was looking at a totally different person.
Scars littered his face, his body was hooked up to tons of wires and monitors. Dave couldn’t even tell if he was breathing if not for the beep beep of the heart monitor telling him his brother was still alive.
His big brother, the cynical artist of their family, always with some dumb philosophical thought, always ready to go somewhere…
“It was a racing accident,” the doctor told them. Gabriel is a pro-racer and a pro-gambler (they all have their unhealthy coping mechanisms for being too remarkable); he’d shown Dave his baby girl, his beautiful car that he used for racing. His pride and his joy. Nothing can get between me and my baby, he bragged with that dumb smirk that made Dave roll his eyes.
The news pictured that same beautiful car upturned and in flames on the television.
Dave hadn’t gone back to see his brother since then. His mother visited nearly every day, her face crumpled and her lip trembling, but Dave refused to set foot in there ever again. He would lose his mind if he did.
His father—the renowned Ved Jha of the business industry—hadn’t stopped by either, but his reason can’t be any more different from Dave’s. Which was the reason for the current fights plaguing the house.
“You don’t even care!” he hears his mother’s scream from below. “He’s your son and you can’t even pay for his damn medical bills! He’s just nineteen!”
“He’s not my son!” his father roars. Dave imagines he’s holding a wine glass or his reading glasses, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep as the life of a workaholic is, and his mouth curled up into a vicious snarl of utter unforgiveness.
He pictures his mother standing across from him, the long dining table separating them with the fancy chandelier hovering above adorned by its pearly lights and gems spotlighting the dysfunction. His mother’s curls fall in disarray all over her flushed face, her dress askew, eyes wild and with dark under bags, one thin finger trembling as she points accusingly at the man who refuses to end this all and pay for his own son’s well-being.
But Ved Jha always has a reason for what he does, doesn’t he? In this case, it’s because of what happened three weeks before the accident. That was a conversation Dave had overheard, pressed up in a crawl space where he could easily hear the stand-off between his father and his brother.
His father, who relied on his hard-earned reputation and his throne made of gilded gold. And his older brother, who saw the world as abstract, painted it in different colors from his mind’s eye, and believed love could be found anywhere with anyone.
That’s what started it all.
Gabriel had come out to their father as gay. His father’s mouth had turned down and Dave, hidden and worried for his brother’s safety, had braced himself for what would soon follow.
And oh follow it did. A terrible, horrible fight that was an accumulation of disagreements between them (his father wished Gabriel to take over the business, while all Gabriel wanted to do was race and paint to his heart’s content), and now this. The tower fell, dissolving into a war between sides while Dave listened wide-eyed with his hand clasped over his mouth, that had ended with Gabriel storming out of the house and his father shouting those dreaded words after him.
No child of mine will taint what I have made for us all!
That same night Gabriel formally moved out of the house (and out of the family, according to their dad)—the last time Dave would see his older brother until the news. Until he stepped foot in that hospital and saw him lying there on a white bed, unmoving, the heart that had led him astray keeping him alive now.
A sudden rush of fury sweeps over him, making him clench his fists, fisting them into the blanket. Why had Gabriel thought it so smart to tell their father he was gay? What could he possibly hope to achieve with that? Now he’s stuck on a hospital bed with minimum hope of survival unless someone pays the due amount of money and who knows how long until Dave’s mother finally wears his father down to pay. Who knows if it will even happen?
Why couldn’t you have pretended? He wants to scream, claw at his hair. He can’t breathe, god, he can’t breathe. Air pulls at him, it's suffocating, the darkness and the memories.
Why couldn’t you have hidden it like how I do about my own feelings, you fucking idiot?
But Gabriel won’t ever do that. He’s an outspoken shit, unlike Dave. He’s not a coward, he’ll face his stuff and walk with his head held high.
Love is a wonderful thing, he’d told Dave during one of their many stargazing moments when they stood outside on the balcony of Gabriel’s room and breathed in the night air. Don’t hide your ability to love because you’re scared of what will come from it, Davey. You’ll miss a lot of great opportunities if you do.
Well, look what happened to you now, Dave thinks savagely. What’s going to save you now? Love?
He wants to hate his brother so badly. For doing all this, for leaving Dave behind when Dave grew to rely on him. But he can’t.
His eyes sting; he feels like all he’s been doing is crying in the night with the sounds of his parents and his own thoughts for company.
He needs to get out, he can’t breathe, the memories are crowding around him. His brother’s smile, his brother’s laugh, his brother leaning against his stupid fucking convertible, his brother…
His brother on a hospital bed with no one to help him.
Struggling to push himself out from under the weighted blanket, Dave gasps out at the fresh air when his head pops up. His head pounds and his hands scrabble to push aside the blanket until he can feel the rest of his body again. The swimming behind his eyes lessen, his thoughts continue to swirl viciously but now he can let their fury out into the room rather than just the darkness under the blanket.
His room looks the same as it does five minutes ago, but for some reason, it’s like Dave is seeing the world differently. He needs to do something, talk to someone who can help. He can’t just mope for his brother when maybe he can help him instead!
If Gabriel believes love can help him, then Dave sure as hell will try his best. He loves his brother too, despite what his father may think.
With that thought sufficiently barricading his anxiety for a short period of time, Dave scrambles out of bed and surveys his room; his bookshelf with all his books ordered neatly; the window cracked open to let in fresh air, a chill whips around the room; his nightstand and dresser. Aha…
His desk where lies his phone and laptop.
Sliding into the computer chair, he thumbs at his phone. There are several texts from Viola, his younger sister. The latest one reads: is mum and dad fighting again? been calling mum and she hasn't responded.
He’s too drained to respond to her. Viola knows just as well as he does of the madness that has taken over their family. She’ll probably get the memo from the lack of response.
Scrolling past her name, he clicks on another contact, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the keypad. Jaydha is well-off and doesn’t live with them anymore, having gotten a successful job and house. She can help, she understands the value of their family, she loves her siblings the way any older sibling does and as the oldest of the four of them, she’s been the responsible one from the start. If anyone can help unstick this mess, it’s her. But…she’s also their father’s favorite. After Gabriel walked out, she became the next option to inherit their father’s business.
(Gabriel is their mother’s favorite, they both share the same love for art and traveling. As for Dave, his aunt was his favorite and vice versa; she was the most normal one in his family. But then she died—cancer. Which just increased his hatred of hospitals.)
Point being, Dave doesn’t know how far her balance is between her brother and her successful lifepath, and at this point, he’s not feeling too confident. But this is the best bet he’s got.
He shoots a quick text giving the bare outline of what’s happened (chances are she probably already knows after watching the news), and a request for help in his humblest tone (which is pretty difficult for someone as awkwardly social as him). He sends it before he can think twice and tosses his phone on his bed, pulling his legs up on the desk chair and resting his cheek on his knees with a drawn-out sigh.
He can still hear the shouts of his parents. It’s become a lullaby for him nowadays—another thing he’s forced to stomach down.
Sighing again, he turns to his laptop, resolving to bring some productivity into his night rather than just listening to his parents fight. He pulls up his emails and clicks through each spam one, deleting it without a second glance.
Bills, bank advertisements, shopping advertisements, book release notifications, credit card stuff he doesn’t even begin to try to understand, and a whole lot more useless things that his finger automatically clicks the delete button for.
The subject line of an email catches his eye just before he clicks delete.
WANT TO WIN ONE MILLION DOLLARS?
Intrigued, Dave moves the cursor and clicks on the email, scanning it quickly. Something about competing in a reality show called Total Drama: the winner gets one million dollars.
One fucking million dollars.
It’s like the answer to the question he’s been asking this past hour sits right in front of him. But why does that name sound so familiar…Total Drama…
A minute later, he remembers. His family friend Noah had brought it up during one of their get-togethers.
It’s insane, he’d told Dave seriously. My buddy Owen likes it, but I sure as hell don’t. The farthest I’ve made is to the merge but even then I know how crazy the challenges can get. The host is a total nutcase, and the people there can be even worse. It’s not even worth it, I’m serious, don’t even think about going on that shitshow.
At the time, Dave brushed it aside, fully intent on not going to any reality show. But now…one million dollars…
Shouldn’t sacrifices be made? Annoying people? Fine, Dave’s handled with just as worse in his boarding schools. Nutcase host? All hosts are nutcases, come on, it can’t be that bad. Besides all of that in the face of one million dollars…he can pay for Gabriel’s surgeries. This is the best way he, Dave, can help his brother.
With renewed vigor, he reads over the email. Auditions are due within this week—tomorrow, in fact!
He has half a mind to ask Viola to audition with him. With his sister and her bright personality by his side, he can tackle any challenges with more ease (plus her athleticism will be a huge help to them), but he sets aside that thought as quickly as he gets it. This is a competitive reality show, he can’t risk getting caught up in bonds and friendships if he is to get that money. Having Viola with him means a chance he’ll think about her more than his current goal, which can lead to both of them getting voted off. He doesn’t want that, if he has to do this, he has to think about it correctly.
This is a pretty big step, his cautious mind warns. It is, he can’t deny. He’s actually considering auditioning for a reality show which he’s heard only negatives about.
But then his eyes track to the small picture hanging above his desk—of Gabriel and him when they were younger, smiling gap-toothed with an innocence that is lost on both of them now. The image of his brother lying so still and probably will be for who knows how long flashes in front of Dave’s eyes again.
Jaydha may help. His father may get eventually worn down by his mother. But they are all possibilities. This, though, has a higher chance of working out. This is purely reliant on Dave and he will make sure he focuses full-on. He’ll be cold, he’ll be vicious, he’ll be like his father when he makes business alliances. He can do it, he has to.
Even if that means living on the island pictured in the email with all its dirt and bugs and other disgusting shit, he can handle it.
He can.
Even though he’s panicking slightly at the thought of it, he will handle it. Like how he’s handled his panic attacks, he can do this too.
Mind firmly set, Dave stands, gives the email one last look, then strides out of his room to the door across the hall. He hasn’t touched this doorknob in months since Gabriel walked out, but now Dave steps into his brother’s old room, steeling himself against the memories seeing Gabriel’s room will bring.
Nothing’s been touched. The bed is still made, the windows are closed, the blinds are shut, the dresser and desk haven’t been messed with. It looks vacant—painfully so. But if Dave focuses, he can envision his brother sitting propped up against the bed’s headboard, smirking at him good-naturedly, waving him over to say something or another that will get Dave’s eyes rolling again because apparently, that’s one of Gabriel’s favorite reactions to get out of him.
Dave’s eyes sting. Rubbing them and turning away from the bed so abruptly he cricks his neck a little, he moves to the closet which looks just as empty if not more than the room. But Dave doesn’t pay mind to the empty clothes hangers, he’s honed in on the boxes on the upper shelf. A video recorder peeks out of the flaps of one of them.
Bingo!
Standing up on his tip-toes, he reaches up and gingerly frees the video recorder from its confines. Now comes the hard part: getting to a quiet place where whoever listening to his audition won’t hear the fighting. Preferably somewhere ordinary, the last thing he wants is for these people and the other contestants to already know where he comes from and treat him differently.
Hm. Maybe an attic? Or a garage…
Oh yeah, he knows the perfect place.
Dave slips out of Gabriel’s room, creeps down the winding staircase, ghosts past the dining room door where the sounds reverberate from, and comes to a stop in front of the last door at the end of the hall.
The knob is cold to the touch. Dave inhales. Now or never.
He opens the door. Flicks the lights on.
One of the most ordinary places his house holds; but to Dave, it’s the most unordinary. One of their garages—his brother’s garage.
The spaces where his cars were sit empty.
Swallowing, Dave winces when his first step on the stairs creaks loudly. But no one comes running to the door, demanding the reason why he’s hanging around his disowned brother’s garage. They’re all preoccupied anyway.
That thought propels him forward down the stairs at a more confident pace.
He sets the video recorder on one of the shelves, angling it so that it faces the work table with all its tools. An ordinary, totally normal view to anyone watching his audition—he hopes they take that into consideration and let him in.
Okay, how to start this thing? He glances around. Maybe coming into the recording seems dramatic enough? The name of the show is Total Drama so maybe the more dramatic and theatric things are, the better.
Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan!
Standing behind one of the shelves, he straightens his shirt, wipes his hands on his pants, breathes out, and walks into the frame. The recording light blinks at him. Dave freezes.
What do I say?
“Hey!” He starts—nothing wrong with a greeting! His brain moves on autopilot from there. “Hi! Dave, me! I’m—ugh!”
Grumbling, he slouches back double-speed behind the shelf. This is already going by splendidly.
He called himself Dave instead of David.
Is he stupid? Pretty sure people introduce themselves in auditions with their full name.
…Does he want to go by Dave in this show? He hates his full name, but it’s what most people in town know him by. Dave is a nickname he’s been experimenting with since attending school, it’s much more casual than David. Plus Gabriel and Viola call him that too.
(There was a time when he’d been proud to be called David. It sounded similar to his father’s name, Ved, and Dave thought maybe his father named him so because of how happy he was. Gabriel and Viola shut that down, saying it’s probably because he can hear his own name in Dave’s. Thanks, Dave had a panicked epiphany at that and now he hates his name. Hell, even Dave sounds similar too.)
But maybe as Dave on this show, he can be someone different too. Someone more normal.
Ugh, this is so annoying, he’s starting to have second thoughts. Is it really going to be worth it? What’s the chance that he’ll get the million anyway? Will all this be for nothing? Maybe he should just let Jaydha deal with the money and hope for the best. It’s not like Gabriel doesn’t have supporters, someone’s bound to pitch in sooner or later.
No! I have to do this!
At the very least for the many times, Dave ignored his brother’s attempts to reach out because of sheer cowardice. This time he can’t back away. He has to try.
Fisting his hands, hitching a smile on, he walks back out and makes sure to look at the blinking light of the recorder as he starts over his audition, fumbling his words though his tone is firm.
“Hi, I’m Dave! I’d like to be on your Total Island Thing Show. The Drama one.” Fuck what’s it called again?
His eyes light up. “Total Drama, that’s what it’s called!”
(Man, he really should have written down what he wanted to say.)
(But Gabriel is a pen-chewer. All his pens are in worse-than-wear conditions that Dave hasn’t ever touched for the sake of his sanity.)
(...Maybe to thank him for all this, Gabriel can stop chewing on his pens. Dave stores that great idea in his mind for the future. Once this whole thing’s done. How bad can it be anyway? Noah was probably trying to freak him out per usual.)
(If he got on this thing, as Dave and not David, then he’s going to keep his eyes on the money. Play it cold, be a fierce competitor, all that stuff. He’s going to make it far (farther than Noah even), keep everyone at arm's length, dammit, and he’s going to get that cash.)
(He’s Dave. Nothing can stop him.)