Chapter Text
‘Defile’ sounds a bit overexaggerated, but Cal would probably define it as that, he always talked about how Roxanne was too much, but he was even worse. What you are currently doing consists of what a regular person would call ‘tidying up’ the house instead. Puppets? Either to the attic you go, if not, put it inside a box and leave it in some corner.
Don't get you wrong. You like puppets, you actually do — that is your thing. Cal may have been biased about it, but you don't think that specific aspect of you was based on his own. Puppets are neat, ok? But you have a feeling neither of the Daves are anywhere fond of them as much as you are, and they'd have good reasons not to.
Why are you doing that?
You don't exactly know how to approach them and say, “Hey, I kinda don't want you leaving.” Which in itself is only half true. They'd be far better off elsewhere, you are well aware of that. But even so, you do want them close, in a way, you want to. Try. To fix things. So now you're ridding your home of things that might trigger them, in hopes they at least don't want to leave right away. You want time to think about what to say.
It needs to be good.
Right after you take down the last of your posters and fold it, you hear a pair of footsteps and a whirring sound, you quickly abscond back into the attic. It is crowdier than it was earlier, but you still move your way through it with ease.
“Did a tidying tornado pass here while I wasn't looking or what?” You catch a glimpse of the Orange one — seriously, get cooler names — talking, in a chair with small wheels while the Other Dave pushes him around. “I would ask who did that, but that's dumb.”
You barely feel any bad for listening in on them, but you probably should get that checked. You're supposed to be ‘trying’ here.
“But why?” Tall Dave says, you can't see the look on his face, he's staring down.
“I don't know, maybe he isn't down with the puppets that much anymore.”
“Yeah.”
You do like sewing some of those puppets, that's how you make most of your money selling them. But you don't care enough to show yourself only to correct them on that. That would only be futile.
They mess around for a bit, it seems like one will go out to get food, obviously not the one with unmoving legs, that is, who tells the other he wants to stick inside. You register Red Dave hesitating for a brief moment before he makes it out the door.
You think of going out to the roof, spying on the kids isn't really good parenting behavior, is it? You wouldn't know. But you're trying to, that's the whole point! A voice that sounds an awful lot like Rox screams into your head. You groan quietly.
Your phone vibrates, you pull it out of your pocket and check for the notifications, you are surprised that it's from some old messaging app. It's Roxanne. — Speaking of. — and the messages date from some minutes ago and just now. You open the chat.
— die
that sounded awful
i meant as in short for dietrich you get it
whats your kids names
answer me dietrich.
— .Why
— i shouldn't need a reason to ask this
last time we talked we didnt even have the kids yet
im just curious what you named yours
— .Dave
— ok and the other?
— They are both Dave
Before you say something, no, I did not name them both the same thing. They are literally the same kid
— oh!! i get it
same happened to my rosie
now i have two lovely daughters
— ?Really
— the game has a weird way of working in its way i suppose
“Hey.” Before you move yourself to leave, putting aside your phone, the Dave left near the futon says, a little loud. “I know you're around, I feel it.” There is little to no doubt he is talking to you.
Normally, you would stay where you are, observe where he would go with no answer. But instead, you appear quickly next to the futon, still a good distance away from the Dave.
He doesn't flinch, or tries very hard not to. You stare him down, and he doesn't break eye contact either.
“...Can we talk?” No. Is what you could've said, and left him there to fend for himself. What does the kid even want with you? But you realize that, in a way, this is a good opportunity to grasp a manner to talk to them without setting off fight or flight mode. “No swords.”
You consider that phrase for a moment. “Mine's at the roof.” You cross your arms, he looks perplexed for a bit. Was it you leaving your sword there what did it for him? Or is the mere act of you opening your mouth that foreign to him.
“Sure.” You watch him flail around, trying to get from the chair to the futon with his useless legs. Not. Useless. You gotta stop that. You wish you could just turn that specific line of thoughts off, it just talks bullshit in your ear and serves you nothing now.
“Need. Help?” You sound like a babbling infant, you nearly forgot how awkward you are at any kind of talking.
Dave stares at you for barely a second. “I- don't think so.”
Ok. You wouldn't want your help either if you were him. But really? You could easily flash step him into that thing in a second, but something tells you he wouldn't appreciate that. He gets the job done in a good minute, he just sits there and stares right at nothing, not at you. You prop down the futon too. Now, that did startle him.
You say nothing. You aren't sure yet if you have anything that doesn't sound stupid, or just borderline desperate to throw at him. Some minutes passed, he could probably tell you the exact amount. You know he's good with that. He clears his throat.
“We fought together, before you-.” He pretends to cough, “Remember? Orange bird Dave.”
So you were right. “Figured.” He shrinks away from you, you should start measuring what you say more carefully. “You were. Good. Out there.” He was a big help then, you didn't question why or how he was there, because you just had one goal in your mind.
“We didn't win, though.” He looks away. “You died.”
“I know.”
“…” He takes some good seconds to come up with something else to say. “Dave wants to leave.” If this were a comedy, your shades would've cracked at that. “It hurts, you know? Staying here and shit.” You do know, but hearing it from his own mouth feels like a sword stabbing through your torso, and you are well familiar with the feeling. “I can't tell if you care, or if you're even listening to me right now, but it's hard staying here when you're just being… you.”
…
“I do.” You try not to look at him, but you can feel that he is. “Care, I mean.” You prepare yourself to talk, which was never your strong suit, but you are willing to take this bullet. “I am not here to make excuses.” You can view the words gathering in your head and starting to make some sense. “I know what I did, and that it was wrong, I knew it.”
“So?” You finally look at Dave, and he looks so much more desperate than you feel. He was the one that looked like he could hide his feelings more out of the two of them, but now it's just all over the room.
“I thought. It was worth it.” You let your mouth do its thing with barely any work of your brain, “Talking with your heart.” as Rox would say. “To prepare you for the game.” You don't mention Lil Cal, it feels wrong to, in a way that is rooted in you.
“I guess it worked.” He says, with no humor, just bite, but the way his lips wobble gives away what he is truly feeling. It's filthy. You are filthy. You are just. Really, really horrible.
“I can. Help you. Find a new place to live.” That would be a bad move in your trying to fix things campaign, if they leave they'll just never look at you ever again because then they won't have to. But if they in no way plan on staying, You can force them. you don't want to force them to.
“That's the thing. I don't want to leave.” You pause. And proceed to have a stare off with the teen. You didn't expect that. Is the kid dumb? Why would he not want that. “Bro?” He pauses, and you're not sure whether you want to hear what comes next. “Do you regret- anything?”
You sigh inwardly heavily. You try looking away, but the light hitting his face makes it easy to see through his orange shades, and staring at you are those eyes, you want to say they remind you of Roxanne, but he has your eye color. At least, in one eye. Something along the lines of your heart clenches, as stupid as it may sound, this kid wants to kill you with looks.
It would be a lie to say you don't regret anything, but saying you regret everything feels backhanded, not genuine. ‘Most things’ is what you could have settled for saying. You regret raising him the way you did, for the most part. But. “I don't regret picking you up out of that crater.”
Dave, them both, deserved better than having you as their guardian. But you are a selfish man. You wouldn't want any other kid to be yours. And you still don't.
You hear a sniffle, Dave covers his mouth with his hands quickly, but you can still see through his shades. Big fat tears keep building up in his eyes, but they just won't fall. Fuck. You don't know exactly what you are trying to do, but your hand just keeps moving towards his face, he pulls his own from his mouth, and you are about to cradle? His face in your hand? That is so. Putrid. You don't think so.
But before you make contact, the front door slams against the wall, Older Dave stands there, holding some bags that probably have food inside. He stares at you, then at Dave, and you can see the full-body flinch he has, Dave's waterworks chose now to fall. This probably doesn't look like a good scene to him, at all.
Dave's sword is in his hand in a flash, but he doesn't move an inch. You step away from the other one and hold your hands up. ‘No sword’. You try to convey.
“Dude.” Dave on the futon says, voice shaky. “Put that away.”
You take that as your invitation to leave.
Now, back on the roof, you stare up at the night sky. There are no stars to see.
You can't put a finger on what you need to do to make this work, exactly, but you think you have a faint idea, after that. You need to be true. No sketchy plan, no ulterior motives, no fight. You don't recall the last time you were vulnerable like this.
Maybe when you and Roxanne were little. Before you decided to put anything that wouldn't be of use in you surviving aside. Maybe before Dave learned how to walk and talk, you had to be with him almost all the time, he'd try to hug you. Then stare at you with his big red eyes when you wouldn't allow it.
You think that's how you felt back there. Like Dave needed you. You know that is not true. They are almost the same age you were when you became their guardian, they can handle themselves now. But. If they'd let you. You could try to take care of them. The right way.
At least one of them wants to stay.
You need to talk to the other one too, but he seems less likely to want to be around you at all. You catch a glimpse of your katana still sprawled on the ground.
You get an idea.