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Language:
English
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Published:
2013-02-09
Words:
820
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
3
Kudos:
13
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240

To The Grave

Summary:

There had always been an unspoken word in the Strider household, and when Dave never got the chance to say it, he breaks down. One-shot.

Notes:

Hey!! Sadstuck. Go.

This is my first fic, so I really hope you all enjoy! Tell me what you like, dislike, etc. No editing was done, I just sort of let my mind go to it, so I hope there aren't too many typos.
I might be doing more writing soon, but for now here's a short little one-shot I couldn't get out of my head!
The emotion is pretty personal to me, so I'd like to think this came out pretty well. Let's see how it goes!

Work Text:

His breath hitched and heart twitched

The air sank away and there was nothing to grab onto, his hands constantly clenching and unclenching. And he felt cold, so very, very cold. Something near him fell to the ground. He vaguely remembered that he may have been holding something a few minutes ago. Maybe it broke.

He could hear sobbing coming from somewhere, but that didn't matter, because his whole world fell dark just a few moments later.

_._._._

The air was cold and his heart stung. Someone was yelling, the voice vaguely familiar, sounding sad, worried, anxious. He was being shaken. He blinked his eyes a few times, which apparently calmed the voice, which grew quiet. Suddenly there were arms wrapped around him, and there was sobbing. So much sobbing. He blinked again. The world was blinding: his glasses must have fallen off. A blurry, blue figure in front of him was toying with something in his hands.

“Dave.. I'm so.. so sorry.”

He couldn't understand why he was sorry. From what he could tell he hadn't done anything wrong. He remembered this voice. He wanted to tell him it was all right, but his mouth wouldn't move. There was sobbing again and he rolled over, eyesight full of carpet. There were warm, comforting arms around him again and he buried his head in the sleeves, shifting when he realized that the arm quickly became sopping wet. He felt someone rubbing his back, and another voice asked the first something. He couldn't comprehend what they were saying.

“Dave, would you like to come sit on the couch with us? That cannot be comfortable”

He felt himself rise and fall onto something soft, his head burying into sun-colored cloth. Some third, broken voice muttered a few things. It sounded pathetic, and cracked between words. It sounded like it was covered in something, something heavy that prevented it from rising and caused it to trip.

Gentle arms wrapped around him and pulled his head into the chest of their owner, who began to rock back and forth, speaking softly and petting his hair.

Sometime later he must have grown tired of wading through his haze, and he passed into darkness again.

_._._._

When he woke up there were sounds in the apartment that he couldn't quite recognize at first. Footsteps. Why would he be able to hear footsteps.

And it all came rushing back.

He curled into a ball, stomach turning and heart feeling like it was going to be ripped from his chest.

“Dave? Do you want something to eat?”

He mutters something about not being hungry and is soon caught in a hug.

“I know, I know. It'll be okay. I know what it's like. It'll.. be okay..”

And suddenly there was shaking. Whether it came from the brunette girl next to him or from him he couldn't tell. Maybe it was both of them.

“I..”
“You what?”
“I never..”

His voice choked on itself and he grew silent. The girl ran her arm up and down his back, his voice returning, just barely.

“I never got to tell him.. how much I love him”

His voice broke again, and the arms around him squeezed tightly around him.

_._._._

His feet drugged through the tall, late-summer grass. The air was warm, but was crisp and came in gentle breezes. A few leaves were stuck to the ground at the bases of their parents, pressed into the soil or the trunks by the shifting wind. This used to be his favorite time of year.

A large, flat stone was in front of him. The ground was disturbed, but several new grass sprouts and dandelions stuck out of it.

He craned his neck downwards, unable to work up the strength to move much more.

“Bro...”

His voice caught, as if something had a hold of his throat.

“Bro, I.. I know you said that nothing is worth crying over, but.. I can't. I can't be strong. I just can't.”

A larger gust of wind shook a few more leaves out of their branches, which tumbled across the ground and the stone.

“I.. I just wanted to say..”

His eyes hurt. He couldn't believe it. This just wasn't a thing that was here right now. This past month hadn't happened. He would come home in a few hours and Bro would be sitting at his tables, mixing a new beat. He would go to grab lunch and be met by a new group of puppets in the microwave. The third stair would fall through. A sword would land in front of him, the note attached demanding his presence on the roof. That was the thing he wished he could believe right now.

“I love you, Bro. I love you.. so much. But I guess..

I guess some secrets go with you to the grave.”