Chapter Text
Your name is Dave Strider, and you know the moment you answer your phone something is wrong.
"John- Jesus Christ slow down I can't understand you." But the voice on the other end of the line is choked and sobbing and you're already in motion, cramming your Chuck Taylors on with your left hand, your cell gripped tightly in your right. Karkat's sitting upright on the couch, where he'd been slumped two minutes ago, Xbox controller discarded. His eyes are following you, mouth drawn into a thin line, and you ignore him in favor of shrugging into a jacket halfway, unwilling to take the phone from your ear even just to pull on the second sleeve. "John, breathe- you have to calm down, breathe, okay? Where are you man, I'm on my way."
At this Karkat stands, and he's grabbed your keys. Karkat has always had a soft spot for your roommate, even if he denies it. You spare him a nod, and hold your breath when John's voice hitches a little, and you make out a distressed, "Dave- Dave, please. I don't. I'm- it h-hurts, it- "
Your body is numbing, vision tunneling, and the only anchor you have is the phone in your hand. "John where are you."
"I'm- I don't know, I- they dragged me to this, alley, I think, I don't know- "
You think your chest might explode in an anger so violent it should surprise you, but it doesn't really. No one touches John. "Where were you before? Do you remember where you were?"
There's a pause, you hear him pant, like he's trying to get his hysterics under control. That's it, buddy. Karkat leads the way out, bypassing the elevator for the stairs, guessing correctly that the elevator would take too fucking long and standing still, even just for a minute in the elevator car, is just not an option right now.
Pounding down four flights of stairs, you prompt John with the question again, and he finally responds, sounding a little more sure of himself. "I was walking home from class. I stopped at that, um- convenience store? With the three dollar DVDs?"
Immediately flashing in the front of your mind in perfect detail was the text he sent you almost a full two hours ago: Free willy or boondock saints?? :) and you're about to be sick. But you know exactly which store that is, and you pile into your old pickup and snap directions at Karkat, who starts the engine and tears out of the parking lot with gratifying speed.
You should have picked him up from fucking class.
"Okay, we're a few minutes away, Karkat's driving like a man on a fucking mission. You said an alley, right?"
"I... I think so, I... I'll try to- "
"You stay the fuck still Egbert, don't you fucking dare move." You have no idea how badly he's hurt, you have no idea if he's somewhere safe, but the last thing you want is your best friend crawling through the city streets in the middle of the fucking night.
Karkat runs a red light and you're abruptly really glad he's there. After a few turns he knows which store it is, and when he pulls into the parking lot, you jump out of the truck before he has a chance to slow down or park.
"We're here, we're looking." There's no answer but labored breathing and you grit your teeth. Karkat has a flashlight app on his phone, and the two of you take to the dark streets. You've never been an overly cautious person, something like walking home alone in the dark has never bothered you much to begin with, and especially not after the Game. Everyday dangers sort of lose their edge when you've lived through the end of the world.
You never considered something like this could happen. Not to John.
Karkat hasn't said a word since you answered your phone- and that in itself speaks volumes for how worried he is since normally he doesn't shut the fuck up- when suddenly he shouts and sprints forward just as John mutters from the phone "Is that you?" and you were already flying after Karkat on pure reflex, matching his speed because fighting together in a war that spanned the whole universe left its marks on all of you, but John's fearful voice in your ear has you moving even faster toward the crumpled form on the corner.
John is struggling to push himself upright, impossibly blue eyes locked on your face, already spilling tears. His clothing is torn, his face is cut and bruised, he's cradling one wrist, but his eyes are on you and he sobs, "Dave."
You drop to your knees beside him hard, and his hands are shaking as they grip your sleeves.
"What the fuck happened." It was Karkat who asked, and you send him a sharp look, because it's cold and John's shivering and you just want to get him home. But something in his face makes you hold your tongue.
He looks like he's being forced to watch something precious burn.
John's only answer is to sob a little harder, a feat you didn't even think was possible, and you decide fuck this after all, and make to scoop him up.
He cries out, flinching away from you, and you jerk your hands off him, though he keeps his grip on your shirt, injured wrist be damned. Karkat takes John's chin, forcing his face around. With a pang you notice his glasses are cracked.
He doesn't repeat the question, and you just sit with John more or less in your lap, putting your arms back around him carefully when he curls into your chest. When he finally speaks, its quietly, against your neck, but you catch every word.
"There...there were four of them. I tried to- but there were four of them. They kicked me around and." John's voice was starting to sound a little detached, like he was describing a story he'd seen in the paper instead of what had just happened to him. Suddenly it feels like you've swallowed dry ice. And you know what's coming without knowing how, and you tighten your grip on him like he's about to disappear.
"They held me down. Took turns. It hurt. It hurt. Oh, god, oh god, Dave." He's crying silently into your shoulder, letting go of your shirt to wrap his arms around himself, and that's as far as he can go. "Dave. Dave, it hurt."
With a quiet beep, Karkat's flashlight app dies.
And you sit there, with the best thing that ever happened to you sobbing, broken in your arms.