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The smooth purr of your car subsides as you remove the key, and wrap a hand around the handle to open the door. The smell of Chinese pretty much overwhelmed any other scent in your car, so you were pleased as fresh air rushed in after you step outside.
But then again...who even are you??
Oh, that's right. Your name is John Egbert, and you just arrived home with dinner for your roommate / best bro.
You pick up the bag containing the Chinese, and then you take a step back to close the door, turn, and head inside. Today, you came home early, and the sky was only just beginning to turn a little amber as the 6:00 p.m. sun started to fall.
You exited the parking lot and you were entering the apartment complex you and your roommate resided in. Frankly, your apartment was a little small, but cozy, and just enough for you too get used to. You had to cut back on furniture though, leaving you and Dave with mostly the essentials. Couch. Table. Bed. Desk. Chairs. Stuff like that. But, you weren't complaining about it, nope. Dave's presence pretty much kept your mind off things. The dork really did get your attention rather frequently, but 90% of the time, you weren't mad about it. You just...couldn't be. He was just too funny, with his "coolkid" shenanigans and "sick beats" that were full of metaphors. Kind of gross sometimes when he wants them to be, but you're used to it.
You enter the elevator, and watch the doors close behind you after pressing the button for the top floor.
It was a brief wait, and the sound of casual elevator music was soothing...you guess.
But by the time the elevator doors reopened, you did a speedwalk out, down the hall until arrived at your door. You retrieve your keys from your pocket, and shove it adeptly in the keyhole. You twist until the click, then you open the door. A blast of heat greets your face, but you were expecting that, and you decide to simply drag in, get your key, close the door.
The expanse of your apartment lies in front of you. The living room just on the right to the front door, a cough facing the TV pressed against the wall with a coffee table slipped in between. Veering off to the opposing side a few chairs that surrounded a medium-sized table, and also the narrow entrance too the kitchen just behind it. Everything sat upon a beige carpet, littered with useless trash such as water bottles and wrappers from previous meals. Most of the garbage was crowding around the trash can, as though the person who threw their residue away missed multiple times, and you knew who that was.
Many yards just in front of the door, was a slim corridor the contained the doors to your respective rooms, and a bathroom you shared.
The lights were unused, and the entire vicinity seemed uninhabited, untouched. However, you knew full well that there was in fact a person occupying the space somewhere just beyond your eyesight.
"Hey, I'm home!" The apartment is silent until your voice rings out. You place the bag of Chinese on the floor for a moment, as you remove your shoes, and the thin blue jacket you were wearing. You ball it up and keep it clutched in your hand, making a mental note to toss it on your bed in a moment. "Dave, I got food!"
You don't get a reply, much to your confusion. Instead you received a duplicate of the dead silence you heard prior, and you move forward after picking the bag up again and placing it on the coffee table.
"Dave! Come on, I even bought Chinese, so get your dorky butt over here." You complain, and again, you don't get a response. With you usually being used to a familiar Strider coming to, or already in the living room when you arrive, you are little more than slightly confused. Especially since you said you had brought Chinese--that was like ringing a dinner bell in his face. Odd.
A frown is present on your face, and you head into the hallway until you reach your roommate's room, the door already swung open and revealing the room inside, so you lean into the doorway and peer within. But after your gaze flickers here and there, you find the room unoccupied. Where is he? You were sure he said he wasn't going anywhere today...
"Dave?"
You back away, closing the door at you go. A frown forms in your face, but you guess Dave probably ended up leaving despite what he told you. Well, then. You were going to eat the Chinese alone, and if you left Dave any leftovers or not despite him lying to you would be decided later. You shrug simply, and pause to go into your room so you can throw the jacket you were still holding back on your bed for future us--
"..Oh."
There he was. The moment you stepped over the threshold to your room, you saw him---sprawled out on the front your mattress, and facing the end of the bed. His arms were crossed and his head lied on top of them, but with his shades, you weren't sure if he noticed you, or if he was actually asleep on your bed.
You exhale, a silence blossoming before you finally shake off the trance and go forth until you reach the foot of your mattress. Upon closer inspection, you notice his hair was much more ruffled than usual; the myriad of blonde locks curling upward or too the side here and there. It's not very obvious, but it did reck his style if you were someone who paid attention to details. Still, it was nothing significant. His aviators, however, had gone completely askew since his arm had pushed it up slightly to uncover most of his cheek. He was dressed in...a black tank top, you think? Yeah. Odd though, he didn't really wear those much ever since he moved in with you. Shorts of the same color were present as well, though they seemed to fail at their role of being pants. The hem was pulled down slightly on the side of his hip to reveal crimson boxers underneath.
You kneel in front of him with caution. Was he actually asleep?
....Well, only one way too find out. You extend a hand slowly, gripping the rims of his shades and slowly, slowly--hey! Slowly, Egbert. For God's sake, just because he twitched doesn't mean it's a signal for you too recoil so sudden.
Fortunately for you he doesn't move after that, and you successfully remove the shades then set them aside, whilst climbing onto the bed yourself. It makes him stir but otherwise doesn't wake him. Good.
His face, now revealed to you looked so peaceful. Turns out he was asleep, you find--what with his eyes closed, and his jaws slack enough to leave his lips parted. His upper cheeks were slim, pale, and dotted with ginger freckles that were so faint you at first questioned their very existence. But you were able too see them after leaning a little closer whilst blinking skeptically. Afterward, your lips quirk upward slightly and a giggle dare attempts to escape from you.
You never knew a Strider could have freckles, because they seemed so...'uncool' for him, but your doubts had been casted aside as you catch yourself almost poking one of the ethereal dots. You force yourself to tear your gaze away from them, but soon another thought pops up in your mind.
Rarely did you ever even see even glimpses of Dave's eyes before those aviators blocked them. You never really got to see the actual thing, the color, and depth, without him either turning away, closing his eyes, or slapping his shades on before you even knew it.
You grin. Despite you just dying to leave him be at ease on your bed your curiosity beat you to your actions.
You put your hand on his shoulder--which also had freckles, holy shit--and shook him.
"Hey, Dave. Daave, wake up," you coo in a soft voice, the smile never leaving your face.
It only takes a small amount of shaking to finally get a groan out of him. You retract your hand as his body shifts, and he unfolds his arms and uses them to prop himself up. Dave cracks an eye open, before closing it abruptly with a hiss. "Dave?" Concern embarks your tone, and at long last, he finally responds.
"Oh hey, Egbert. That you?" His voice is soft, and after a moment his eyes begin to reopen but his eyebrows are knitting themselves together. You finally guess he's just getting used to the light. After all you did just take his aviators off, and you have a feeling that he rarely removes them himself so he must feel like a vampire when it came to being exposed to the natural illumination the sun gave off without the protection of the darkened lenses.
You meet his gaze once again, and your breath hitches in your throat.
Red.
They were red.
You never knew human eyes could be so vibrant, they were so stunning-- you could easily compare his optics to shining rubies. As his eyes widen to their natural length, you also realize they were average sized, but almond shaped, and that only proves to be a perfect fit. You felt your heart thump on your chest for a moment, and your grin had only faded as you lose control over the muscles in your face as your jaw drops.
"What?" His voice interrupts the enchantment his eyes cast on you, and you struggle to find words.
"They're beautiful." You end up blurting. Fuck.
The blonde's face looked mostly emotionless, but his eyes...His eyes. They began to narrow slightly, and the way they glinted--you could just tell he was flustered, confused, and you never saw emotion so evident on him. Did he learn to channel all of his feelings in his eyes or something? Is that how he kept his facade up, all those years?
It takes a bit longer for you to control your jaw and close your mouth, but you manage and can't help but let a smile take over.
"They're beautiful." You repeat, and this time, you actually said it while thinking.
Dave blinks, that look of skepticism returning, and he quirks an eyebrow. "Ooookay?"
You don't respond, you just wait. Dave's suspicion obviously grows, and you feel amusement bubble in your stomach. He still hadn't realized his shades were off? Dummy.
"John, okay. First of all, what the fuck are you gushing on about, you sound and look as lovestruck as some highschool girl who just saw her crush stride on b--" You cut him off by placing both hands on the sides of his face.
"Dave, shut up. You never gave me a chance to even answer."
Dave's face goes lax in your grip, and he releases an incoherent, mumbled response that you don't really care about.
"Your eyes."
"Mmph?"
"Dave, your eyes."
It takes a moment for it to finally click in him, and when it does, his gaze seems to spark alight with realization, and he immediately moves his head back and jerks out of your grasp with a long sigh. "Oh my god, John. That was low, stealing a guy's aviators while he's sleeping only to satisfy the bottomless chasm of your curiosity? Rude."
Well, frick, he practically read your mind there.
You sigh. "Or maybe you could avoid falling asleep in my room in the first place. Then you won't have any consequences. Anyone who goes anywhere beyond that threshold gets un-shaded. No exceptions." You get an eye roll and a chortle-sounding noise from the blonde.
"What were you doing in my room, anyway?" Dave raises an eyebrow.
"Nope, sorry, Egbert. My lips are sealed until my shades somehow find themselves back on my face."
"If you want your shades back, then get out of my room!"
"If you want answers you'll give me my shades right here and now, John. Chop chop."
Fine, okay! Here are your hipster shades already, now tell me why!" You say as you pick up the shades once more, and shove them on his face, earning a grunt from Dave.
After you retract your hands, and he lifts his own almost painfully slowly, and positions his aviators a little more snuggly. To your slight disappointment, his eyes were now covered once more.
"Okay, you fulfilled your end of the deal, so. Your answer; I was bored."
".....What?"
"Bored, John. Know what bored even means, right? Judging by your flustered expression, I am assuming you don't. Let's go get the dictionary, then you'll know what ghastly disease I recently suffered from."
It's your turn to roll your eyes now, and you decide to release his face and stand. His head tilts upward to look at you, as you get off the bed and take a step back.
"Dave, stop being dumb. I do know what it means." You mumble. "Now, if you don't straighten up the attitude, then I'm eating all the Chinese I got." You see Dave's eyebrow raise slightly and the corner of his mouth lengthens, all in a fleeting moment. Any normal person would probably chalk that up as some kind of twitch, but despite how evasive he is about his emotions, you've got two good years of experience and you're rather adept at catching those tiny details. It's something you are kind of proud of, for whatever reason. But right now, you know you've caught his attention somehow, so you guess poor lil' Strider's hungry. You guess you can show a little empathy, because being hungry always sucks. "Whoa there, no need for all that. I'll be a good boy, I promise." He purrs, and you release an amused chortle.
You turn around triumphantly, striding across the room toward the door, and you only stop when you hear a faint "hold up" behind you, and you pause and turn just in time to see Dave sliding off the bed, lifting himself up to his feet, and then moving toward you. He stopped only when he's about two yards away from you.
A silence grows between you two and you decide to speak up. "Sooooo.....What is it?"
"....Nothing really. It's just the shade stuff, yeah..is it possible for you to make sure you keep your lips pursed about that subject? Rather not have people get too intimidated, you know, and start screaming that 'I'm the spawn of the devil or something.'" He quoted with his fingers, and halfway through saying all that, the volume in his voice lowered gradually until it was nothing but a murmur. You study his posture for a moment; his head was tilted more to the left, and his shoulders were slightly....sagged. Overall, even a passerby who doesn't even know Dave might be able to tell just how...submissive he seems. The coolkid facade seemed to all but vanish, and the shades did little to improvise.
All you can do is blink in awe. Dave...he never looked so...expressive. Vulnerable. He never showed this side to you. But then again, you did just discover a secret he managed to keep from you for two years, and so far he's been handling the scenario calmly. Almost impressively calmly. Dave tilts his head slightly toward you again, and now he seemed....troubled. Concerned, even. The thought that people would think or start screaming such things...has that actually happened? The thought makes your blood boil for a second. Even if he didn't want the eyes he had, it wasn't his fault he was born with them.
You slowly grin, knowing full well you wouldn't tell anyone for the world.
So you take a sheepish step forward, one arm extended as you turn to embrace the Strider in a one-armed hug. He doesn't seem to do anything other than turn his head to look at you.
"Dude, you don't have to worry. I promise to keep quiet about it, but only..." You shift slightly, and you raise a hand to grip one of the arms of his shades, and you lift it to reveal the same scarlet red eyes, just as stunning as before. You lift your arm a bit more until the lenses of Dave's shades balance and rest just above his forehead after you lift them high enough and let go. You find those shockingly bright eyes again and your smile widens, because hell, you'd be lying if you said they weren't beautiful.
"..if you agree to take your shades off in the apartment. When we're alone, of course. I don't want you to hide your eyes because you think I'll suddenly start yelling that you're a demon or some BS like that." You add, and Dave is silent, eyes searching your face for a moment before he exhales slowly, and you have a feeling he might have held his breath. But after a moment, you catch a glint of confusion in his gaze.
"...Why? I figured you'd tell me to glue my shades to my face whenever I'm around you, maybe even kick me out or only be disgusted. Figured you'd think these," he gestured vaguely toward his eyes. "Were hideous. Lot of people did."
Your jaw almost drops again. "Oh my fucking god, Dave. I'm your best bro, why the hell would I judge you for your eyes? It's not even something you can control, so the people who thought your eyes are hideous are giant, douchey dicks, Dave. They are the most douchiest of dicks a douchey dick could get." You almost want to be mad at him for even suggesting you would do any of those things.
"Plus, your eyes aren't hideous. They're shiny fucking rubies and they are so beautiful and exotic, and--" you cut yourself off(frankly you were happy since you were really starting to ramble there)when you feel an arm slide over your shoulders, and Dave, holy Jesus he's leaning into you, and is that his other arm sneaking around your back?
Within moments you are enwrapped in a hug. A gentle one, since he's not applying more than practically five pounds of his weight on you but he still manages to get close enough for your chin to hook over his hunching shoulder, as well as his own chin over yours.
Surprisingly, you enjoy it. His touch is warm, yet featherlike, and you find yourself staring down a his back. Your arms are jelly and just hanging loosely by your sides, but eventually, you manage to piece yourself together, wrap your arms around his upper back and return the hug.
"...Fuck, dude." Dave murmurs with a voice is so soft, while it wavers with unusual emotion. You give off a soft hum, and you can feel the occasional touch of his chest on yours whenever he inhales. You two hold for a few precious moments, until he pulls about a foot away and lets his arms drop from you while wearing the faintest yet biggest of grins you didn't know he could ever make. "Don't know what to say, I--"
"Shoosh," you muse, gently patting the skin on his shoulder with the palm of your hand. "No words, only Chinese now."
--
It's easy to get Dave's butt on the couch and also have a bowl filled with Chinese rice and sweet 'n sour chicken in his lap, but it's infuriatingly difficult to keep him to stay put now. Why? Well, that's because after he saw the DVD in one of your hands when you entered the living room, he blinked slowly, put his bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch and got to his feet before attempting to make a beeline around the couch. You had to keep a vice-like grip on the back collar or his shirt while also listening to him protest and grumble, and grumble, and grumble. That's how.
And you were giving him so much in one night. First the Chinese, then the promise of keeping his 'secret', then you were about to let him watch one of your awesome movies from your favorite collection. However the insufferable prick you kept a hold on blatantly drawled on about how 'outdated' they were and noting aloud all the possible things that could make the movie a little less intolerable, but you flipped him off, because his thoughts about the movie were dumb, and he was even more dumb.
You still have your grip on the back of his shirt like a dog owner managing his pooch as you bent down slightly in front of the TV. Dave doesn't put up much of a fight, from the way he tugs feebly from you. Since two of your fingers are still hooked around the DVD, you rely on your pinkie and ring finger to push the button on the DVD player and turn it on, as well as make it spit out the disc tray so you can pop in the movie.
You grin as you get those tasks done, then cautiously drop the DVD on the tray, straighten it, and then nudge the tray. The machine takes the hint and obediently sucks in the tray holding the disc. The player begins to make a near-inaudible whirr that purrs to life, and you back off and let it do it's thing.
Dave Stridork then, melodramatically sighs and puts a hand to his forehead before murmuring; "Oh, woe is me."
Douche.
--
You get to the couch, and you also drag Dave with you, so he unceremoniously drops himself onto the cushions that bounce up in reflex. You slowly release your grip on him, but he isn't looking at you. He seems more distracted than vexed, those scarlet eyes just slowly drinking in every single detail in the room.
When you remove your hand, he either doesn't notice, doesn't care, or finally decides to shut up and cooperate. You grin triumphantly on thought number three.
Hell to the yes, the movie starts playing after a moment, and after the brief, yet epic and action-packed intro, you are already sucked into the world of Nicholas Cage. Who gives a fuck about what Dave's doing anymore? Not you, and that's who.
It isn't until halfway around the movie when Dave actually moves. You think he's about to get up, so you turn your attention to him, hand ready to lash out and keep him down. But turns out, he was only pulling his legs up on the cushions, criss-crossing them and leaning back into the couch. He seemed so at ease, as his eyes begin to close...
Wait. What the fuck!
"Dave!" You hiss under your breath, reluctantly turning away from the movie. Dave responds with a grunt that you sounds more like a "what".
You reach over and poke him roughly in the shoulder, but he simply shrugs you off, and quite literally. "How the fuck are you falling asleep? Come on look, this is the best part!" You whisper urgently.
"I would rather not have my eyes suffer any longer Egbert. Each scene is a another form of torture that's even more horrifying then the one prior, and fuck if I'm not going to help myself." That insufferable little--
"Daave!"
"Jooohn."
"Your an asshole with horrible taste."
"I would reply with something lame like 'I know' or 'so do you', but that's your thing so I'll just keep quiet."
Your name is John Egbert and that was the last straw.
You don't know what just happened or what you're doing but Dave is suddenly lying down on his back horizontally and you're hovering just above him on your hands and knees, and he's looking at you as though you just grew a second head.
At first you're flustered by your own impulsive actions, but then an idea cunningly sneaks into your brain, and you find yourself letting a malicious grin spread widely across your face.
"John, wha--" His breath hitches as you sit up abruptly on your knees and use your now free hands to tug the hem of his shirt up and expose a pale, lean stomach.
He barely gets a chance to take another breath before his laughter suddenly breaks the idle atmosphere, and he starts to squirm uncontrollably under you, who is now tickling his sides mercilessly.
You can't help but laugh as well after a mere moment, mostly because the sight of Dave grinning almost ear-ear and having his eyes squeezed shut and just the thought of him actually being ticklish is just hilarious.
At least you can tell him afterward that him being ticklish could be counted as "ironic", at least in your book.
Suddenly you are jerked out of your thoughts when you feel hands on your sides, fingers sliding under your own t-shirt, and within a mere moment, your laughing increases in volume. Goddammit, he's retaliating.
You stop and pause your offense in favor of defending your assaulted sides, but to no avail, and that proves to make it worse for you. Dave is using the arm of the chair to prop him up a little more, and with him no longer the victim you are at his mercy. Little by little, your defenses crumble and you attempt to make it stop by sliding away from him, pushing to your side of the couch. But he follows. Mayday, mayday fuckdammit! Dave's no longer laughing but his grin remains, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes when he pushes you down and duplicates your position earlier by hovering over you.
The movie is long forgotten, and you attempt to yell for him to stop between laughing but you just can't stop.
Fortunately for you after a good ten seconds, he lets up, and your giggling subsides as you struggle to catch your breath. Both of you are grinning widely and panting and you would be lying if you said that wasn't funny. The image of Dave laughing like there was no tomorrow reappears in your mind and makes another soft giggle escape from your parted lips.
Dave then suddenly collapses on you, his face veered off to the side of your head and mushing into the cushion while his body crashes onto yours. The air is knocked out of you again for a moment.
"Dave, you ass, get off..!"
"Nah."
You sigh, but you're too exhausted to shove him off by this point, and well...this isn't so bad, you suppose. Your body gets used to the weight, and it's still fairly easy to breathe. Your head is simply resting on the armrest and Dave's breath tickles your throat, though it isn't that much of a deal for you either.
You guess this position isn't so bad. You don't want to have to deal with Dave's stubbornness anymore, so you don't protest. Instead, you scoot backward to prop yourself up a little more on the armrest and turn your head to the TV screen.
The movie is still playing.
You grin silently, deciding to just go back to watching it. Dave doesn't move while the movie plays, and you subconsciously hope he doesn't. But by the time the screen goes black and the credits roll in, you realize that he probably fell asleep by this point, so you decide to stay put. Eventually, you find that your own eyelids begin to droop and you smile absentmindedly, tilting your head downward but only to have your cheek be pressed against soft, platinum blonde hair.
Instead of not moving so you don't wake Dave, you don't move because truthfully, you don't want to. It just feels...right.
A faint smile plays on your lips, but soon enough your eyes close and you find yourself drifting off.