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He was on his phone again, running a hand through his dark locks, frowning. Occasionally he rubbed his temples and groaned, then backpedaled as he paced around his room. No doubt trying to placate her.
“It was just a joke, babe, really I swear! I didn’t mean-” he said, squeezing his eyes shut as she cut him off yet again. You were sitting in your balcony, listening to one of your mixes, regarding him over the rims of your shades as he continued with his pleading.
“I’m sorry. Really, I am. Please forgive me, babe,” he said, and you felt your heart burn up and go ice cold at the same time, culminating in your stomach, butterflies having a rock concert. You’d treat him better. She stepped all over him like he was some muddy ass doormat in the middle of a thunderstorm outside a warm inn. But you were getting carried away here.
He’d put down his phone, and put his head in his hands.
Your name is Dave Strider, and if it wasn’t obvious enough already, you’re in love with the mopey little goober next door, who just so happens to be your lifelong best bro.
Only he’s not even a goober by your high school’s standards. He isn’t even little anymore, goddamn. He’s John Egbert, star quarterback, captain of the football team, overall nice guy, and you’re Dave Strider, the lanky, weird, quiet guy who always wears the stupid aviators.
There’s a few reasons why you’re not all over him. First off, John’s way out of your league, and it’s not like he isn’t already adamant enough about your no homo best bro status like he pretty much has been since the ten goddamn years you both have been neighbors.
That, and he’s already taken, dating the stupid bitchy head cheerleader Vriska Serket who you were pretty sure was only dating him because he was the quarterback and that was what the head cheerleader was supposed to do if she wanted a shot at prom queen, or something like that. You didn’t pay attention to high school hierarchies, really.
“Hey,” you piped up. “You okay there? You look like a parent who showed up to an MLP convention with your little girl who wanted to take a photo with Applejack or something but encountered nothing but creepy neckbearded fedora-wearers who secretly jack it to Rainbowdash.”
He looked up, startled, but his face settled into an easy grin when he saw you. You couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked.
“Oh, hey, Dave. Yeah, I’m fine I guess. Vriska hung up on me, again, cause I made this joke about spiders that she didn’t like. I thought it was perfectly harmless,” he said, sighing.
“She doesn’t get you, bro,” you said, trying to console him.
“She can’t not get me, Dave. She’s the only one out there who’s ever loved me for who I am, not my body or my status on the bullshit highschool food chain or anything.” he said, lips curving downward.
You fought back the urge to snort, to mask the stab of hurt you had felt when he had said that. You tended to hide your emotions under careful layers of apathy and sarcasm, and like hell were you going to let them show when your best bro was in serious need of cheering up. So you put your feelings aside.
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, dude. If she really likes you like you say she does she’ll come back. Like that proverb. If you love something let it go. If it comes back, it was yours, if it doesn’t, it never really was.” you said, shrugging. God damn, you suddenly understood why there were so many poems about heartbreak.
“Sure, Strider-sensei,” he said, rolling his eyes and smiling at you. “So, you got a date to the Spring Formal next week after the big game?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Nah, Egbabe. I ain’t on the market,” you said, shrugging. “Too busy pining for your tight footballer ass. Besides, I gotta study. Gotta keep these stellar grades up.”
“Of course, Striderp,” he said, laughing. “Tell you what. If Vriska doesn’t come running back, we could go stag together. An evening of fun with my best bro.”
Your heart twisted painfully. This was all you were ever going to get from John, this was all you were going to ever be to him, a bro, and nothing more. Might as well take it. You sighed dramatically.
“Only if you buy me a corsage and get a matching boutonniere,” you joked, tipping your shades and winking at him.
“Of course,” he said, fucking giggling. “And we can do the slow dances too, and we HAVE to spike the punch.”
“Sure, John. Whatever your dorky little heart desires.” you agreed, nodding solemnly.
You’d proceeded to go back and forth with him, making idiot plans to sabotage the aforementioned dance. You could do this. You would live with your giant homocrush and one day, maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky, you’d get over it. But right now, you could cut your heart a little slack, right?
Right.
John was wearing a small little smile on his face, and you’d noticed that his shoulders had relaxed. Your job here was done.
“Anyway, I gotta go,” you continued. “School tomorrow and shit. Finish up that English paper, pack my bag...y’know.” you said, turning to leave.
“Dave, wait!” he called, and you stopped, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Yes?”
“Just, thanks. For all this. I really appreciate you having my back.”
“Ain’t nothing about it, John. Now go get some shuteye.”
---
You were sitting on a bench at the bus stop by the park, taking advantage of good weather on a weekend afternoon, doodling some comics in your sketchbook that you’d probably have to scan and put on your website later. Maybe you’d just take grainy camera shots and work at it on photoshop or something for maximum shittiness.
You were busy contemplating how exactly you would go about giving the masses what they rightfully deserved when none other than Beaver boy came on over and sat down next to you.
You looked up at him, surprised. Didn’t he have a date or something with Spiderbitch?
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Sup, bro.” you replied, looking at him curiously.
He lifted his hands in mock defense. “What, can’t a guy talk to his best bro after encountering him on a park bench?”
“He can’t if he’s supposed to be on a date with his on-and-off cheerleader girlfriend,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him.
He shifted uncomfortably and you almost felt bad for striking a nerve.
“Actually, I’m on my way there now. She’s picking me up from here, and we’re gonna go to the mall. She wants to go dress shopping with me, and get me a matching tie. You know, Spring Formal bullshit,” he said, sighing.
“Sounds like fun,” you replied, dryly.
“Oh yeah, dude. Hours of sitting around in some boutique while sales attendants fawn over me and my girlfriend. I might explode from how excited I am right now.” he said, equally sarcastic.
You snorted and he smiled, giving you his megawatt toothy fucking grin. Man, his smile could light up the whole town, and simultaneously give every deserving puppy within city limits a deserving kiss.
“So, Spring Formal. You got a date yet?” he asked, casually. Why was he asking again?
“Nah, you know me. Not on the market, standing salami stick throbbing for none other than your firm Egbuns, et cetera,” you replied, smirking as you gave him the same answer you always did.
“Oh. So, you’re not going then?” he asked.
“Nope. And you're going with Spiderbitch."
He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Vriska's dramatic arrival in her swanky convertible.
"Speak of the devil," you muttered under your breath.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Hey babe!" she crooned, calling him over.
"Hi darling! Well, that's my ride!" he said, waving cheerily at you, before focusing his attentions on aforementioned darling.
"Have fun," you called, halfheartedly. You were so obviously jealous it hurt, but it's not like he was ever going to pick up on that.
Spiderbitch however, was a different story. The moment John stepped into the car she pulled him in for a kiss, tangling her fingers in his hair, making you feel sick. She pulled away and you focused your attentions on your sketchbook, but not before you caught the smirk on her face right before she drove off.
Smug bitch. She knew, and she was doing this on purpose.
You sighed and shut your sketchbook, afternoon ruined, and headed on home, wondering why John was so bothered about the Spring Formal. It was just a stupid dance and he already had a date. There wasn't much to it.
---
You sat in the bleachers, keeping an eye out for Egbert. He'd asked you to come for his game the first time he played, and then the game after that, and after that, and by now it'd just become a habit.
Rose was sitting next to you, and even though you knew she was only here to check out that other hot cheerleader, (Kanaya? Something like that.) she was currently acting translator.
"So they're all running over the place." you prompted.
"Just keep an eye on whoever has the ball."
"Some dude blew a whistle."
"That's the referee, and it's halftime."
"What's that and where's John going?"
"It's break time, so he's taking a break."
You sighed and twiddled your thumbs. You still had no idea what they were doing, or who was winning, or even the score for that matter. (You could almost hear Rose sigh.) All you knew was that John's team was in blue and the other people were in yellow. Something like that.
You folded your arms and your thoughts drifted to what it would be like if you were here to cheer on your boyfriend instead of your best friend. That was a dangerous road to do down, but you were bored and freezing and let's face it, John's ass in tight pants wasn't as stupidly captivating as his effervescent personality was.
Fuck, you'd kiss him after all his games even though he'd be all sweaty and gross and you'd wear his jersey proudly and you know he rarely goes to the after-parties, and instead spends his time watching Failure to Launch and Spy Kids, breath taken away by Antonio Banderas' charming portrayal of renegade spy turned father, and you'd happily sit through all of them with him, distracting him with kisses and rubbing his sore muscles. You'd love him. You'd love him right.
You were distracted from your train of thought by the shrill whistle that was effectively a picture of a tunnel painted onto a rock face. The game was over. John's team had won, because everyone around you was hooting and cheering and his teammates were carrying him on their shoulders. He pumped a fist into the air and when he caught your eye, he grinned and waved at you almost bashfully, but that didn't stop you from smiling and giving him a tiny wave right on back.
You were walking down to the field when you saw it. Vriska had her hands on her hips and a smug, mean expression on her face as she talked to John. He looked pretty stricken, frowning. You couldn't hear them over the post-game din, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Vriska had just dumped him.
Oh my god, the poor fucker looked like a kindergartener who just got told that their dog got run over. You ran on over to where she'd left him standing listlessly and nudged him out of his reverie gently.
"Hey. Good job back there," you said quietly, feigning ignorance.
"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," he said, not looking at you.
You stood next to him like that for a while, ignoring the crowd until you finally opened your mouth.
"Need a hug?"
He nodded, and you knew it was because if he spoke his voice would crack embarrassingly. You wrapped your arms around him nevertheless, holding him close and then let go very regrettably, after a while justifiable by a friendship and nothing else.
---
It was a week later and John and Vriska were together again, easily becoming one of the most powerful couples in the school. You knew they were still on the rocks though, and tonight was either going to make it or break it.
You didn't want to witness it firsthand.
Instead, you sat in your balcony, re-reading a chapter of your chemistry textbook in the dying light of day. Saying you were busy studying was always such a handy excuse.
"Dave?"
You looked up from your book to see John very handsomely attired in a white dress shirt, blue silk tie and everything, suit jacket in hand. You sighed internally, lovesick.
"Hey. You clean up well, Egbert."
"Thanks. I'm headed to the Spring Formal. Gonna go meet Vriska there."
You looked back down at your book, trying to feign apathy.
"Awesome, use protection," you remarked, not really giving any fucks.
"Are you going?"
"For the third and hopefully final time, no," you said.
"Why not? You could go stag."
"Without my best bro to go stag with? Nah." you dismissed.
He made a face and looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words, but you replied anyway.
"You're tied down. I don't wanna mess with that. Go have fun," you said, truthfully, for once.
He deflated a little and you wanted to go put on a suit right then and there and meet him outside. But you didn't. You knew your place. And you were gonna be the friend he needed right now.
"Okay. I'll see you later," he finally said, relenting.
"Yeah," you replied, noncommittally.
You were John's best friend. Sometimes, John would get caught up in whatever relationship he was in, and he would forget to reply to your texts or say hi to you in the hallways, but that was okay, because he always came back and apologized profusely when it all came crashing down. You didn't care. You didn't mind that you were being discarded like the shittiest present under the tree, only to be picked up again when everything else was either old or broken. Because you loved John first as a friend.
But the more you thought about it, the more disquieting it felt. You were putting someone else's happiness before your own, and that was fucking stupid, especially considering how said someone didn't do the same for you.
You realized you deserved to be happy too, regardless of whether it was him making you feel that way.
You must have sat there for a good twenty minutes, stewing in your own thoughts, when you looked back down at your textbook and realized you couldn't read a damn thing. You shut your textbook and sighed. You had a dance to be at.
---
You entered the gymnasium, much more than fashionably late, feeling awkward in your suit and red dress shirt, worn without a tie. You were too cool for ties. Also, you didn't know how to tie one and were in a rush, but you weren't about to admit that to anyone.
They'd thrown open the buffet, and the DJ was shit, and you found yourself grimacing at his taste, but it was a high school dance and your standards were way too fucking high anyway. Besides, you were a man on a mission.
You were drifting somewhere around the punch bowl when you saw him. Or, he saw you. Or rather, your breaths were collectively taken away.
You felt like a sap but he looked so goddamn happy to see you that it hurt.
You cocked your head to the left, towards the exit, subtly indicating that he should meet you out there. He gave you a nod back, and you made your way out of the gymnasium.
You looked back, and oh god. She was back, and she was in the sexiest blue dress ever, and she was cupping his cheek and touching his shoulder and- he was pushing her away?
He pushed her away. She was scowling at him. Now she was scowling at you. Neither of you gave a fuck, because you were too busy not paying any attention to her.
You stepped out of the gym, taking a deep breath. You were going to do this. You were gonna make this happen.
The sound of the double doors opening has you tense.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," you replied, hazarding a glance at him. He was a little tousled, and the hair that he worked so hard on getting to sit flat was sticking up again.
"I got something to tell you, and it's really fucking important."
"Okay."
"Listen up, clean the water out from your ears, none of your asshattery today, Egbert."
"I'm listening, Dave."
"Hold on to your britches."
He clutched his pants and you wanted to scream.
"What did I just say Egbert."
"Jeez, I'm here!" he replied, laughing.
"Okay good," you finished.
You stood there in silence, trying to find the right words, when you remembered why you were here again.
"I like you," you blurted.
"Duh, I know that." he said. "Why else would you stick around my lame ass?"
"No, not like that! Like. I don't think your ass is lame. Your ass is fucking amazing. Like your personality. Like every other goddamn thing about you. And, like how right now you’re standing out here in the cold listening to your lameass neighbor tell you these stupid things that Vriska probably never did.”
“She didn’t,” he supplied, quietly.
“I guess- I guess what I’m trying to say here is that, yeah. I like you. Embarrassing homogay crush and everything, the whole nine yards. I've liked you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t like me back. Because, I’m your best bro, and that’s, that’s not what I’m supposed to do, and I want to be happy. I want to make you happy. I just. I needed you to know.” you finished lamely.
“Oh, Dave,” he said, sighing, wrapping his arms around you. You did the same, hugging him back like he was your lifeline, the only thing preventing you from dissolving into a puddle of tears and heartbreak. The boutonniere he was wearing was somehow not crushed when he pulled away marginally, hands still on your shoulders, almost around your neck. Your hands were on his waist and it was strangely intimate when he started swaying to the faint strains of music emanating from the gym.
“You’re really dumb, y’know that?”
“Wh- I. Yeah.”
“It’s okay.”
“What?”
“It’s okay that you like me the way you do.”
“Oh. Thanks for bein' nice about it I guess."
“Let me finish, Dave."
“There's more?"
“'Course there's more. It’s okay, you see, because I like you too.”
“The exact same way?”
“The exact same way.”
“Oh.” you say, and fell silent, but it's not because you're not happy, no, the butterflies are most definitely moshing in the pit that is your stomach, you're just, too lost, lost in his eyes, in this moment, in him.
He moved his hands to your shades and you let him prop them up on your head.
“Yeah. For a while now.”
“Why didn’t you leave her then?”
“I was scared. Of her. Of everyone else. That you didn’t like me back. But you do. And I guess that makes a lot of things okay, because I got you to hang on to, now.”
“You mean, you-”
“Yeah. I got you something."
He pulled out a slightly squished corsage from his pocket and you gasped.
"You fucking didn't,"
"I, in fact, fucking did."
"Is this hers?"
"Nah. I told her I forgot to pick them up. Really I wasn't gonna even wear this one, but I bought it just in case you came along."
"You're an ass."
"She was an ass first. Besides, you love me anyway."
You laughed and pulled him close, and when you kissed him and he kissed back the exact same way, you felt it. You felt happy, and you know he did too, especially later when you two went on to spike the punch and get a bunch of freshmen drunk off their asses.