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"You're thinkin' too much."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because you always get this stupid look on your face with your tongue stickin' out a little bit."
I smiled at the tiled floor. He was right about that.
"Now tell me," I looked up when he began pacing by the island in the kitchen, a hand holding Dave's chin as he stopped directly in front of me and plastered a slight scowl onto his face. I furrowed my brows as he continued, "Who are you?"
I pressed my lips together, thinking the question was strange but held some influence that I just was not understanding, "Dirk Strider."
"Nope. Wrong." He began circling around me, and even with Dave's shades, I knew he was staring me down, inspecting me from skin to heart, "I'll ask you again. Who are you?"
I tried a different approoach, "Your brother, your twin."
"Incorrect," He announced, stopping so that he stood before me once again, "Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. You sir, are wrong, so steer your little metal piece back to the railroad that you came from."
Confused, I questioned him, "I don't get it. What am I supposed to say?"
Dave raised an eyebrow at me, then turned away, his steps taking him to the refrigerator. After opening a door of it, he rummaged through. "That's your problem," He said through a mouthful of apple, "You're too worried, thinkin' too much."
I sighed, "I still do not understand what you're getting at."
"Too worried about other people, what they'll say or do. Look at yourself, Dirk. Really look at yourself. Who do you see in the mirror after you take a piss? Who's that guy starin' back at you?" Dave looked down at the apple in his hand, examined the bite he had taken as if he were speaking to it rather than me and bit into the fruit again. He chewed, swallowed and stared me down, "When you're stripped naked, no shades, who's left? When I say 'Dirk,' who is it that comes to the surface?" He stayed silent to eat his apple, and I shifted uncomfortably by the island.
I didn't know what to think or what to say. I felt as if words were powerless now; Dave had rendered me helpless under the crunching of a red fruit and the inquiries of blood relations. By now, I was staring hard at my socked feet as if trying to count the individual threads that made them, and I only looked up when Dave spoke to me directly while he threw the core away.
"Dirk. Look at yourself for me, bro." He stepped closer to me, close enough that our feet hit each other clumsily and our chests nearly hit each other. I could smell the cologne he used, could see his eyes from behind his shades, could feel his nose nearly hit mine.
His arms wrapped around my shoulders. A hand carded through my hair. I relaxed, let his words absorb into me as I fell into him. Breathing softly against his neck, I let my arms reciprocate and gently push up the hem of his shirt. My mind told me not to touch but my heart operated my body now.
"We came from the same womb, dude, I know you. And this isn't you."
"They've changed me." I mumbled, "Since day one."
He urged me gingerly, "Tell me who they are."
"The doctors. The teachers. My so-called friends, Mom, Dad, aunts, uncles, cousins- they've made me become my diseases."
He chuckled lowly, kissed my cheek and my jaw and my neck. I felt his heart thud against my body; I shivered, felt faint and I let myself sink to the floor. Dave followed suit and pulled me closer, his lips right by my ear, "Who are you?"
Back straightened, I answered with a certain firmness, "Dirk Strider."