Dave sucks in a breath like he's wounded, bumps straight back against the wall nearest the dresser. He stays there, hands pressed against the wallpaper, and holds that breath for as long as it takes before he can trust himself to speak again. His voice comes out low and reluctant. Miserable.]
It's too nice here.
[Once he starts, it's like the words won't stop. Karkat wanted him to talk, and. Well. Here Dave is, talking.]
I got here and nobody else was here, you know? Nobody I knew. But a bunch of people came to talk to me instantaneously to help me out, and they teleported me to Cherrygrove City even though it wasn't even that cold yet, and so many people have offered to breed Pokémon for me or gave me clothes or food or...someone sent me a birthday package, you know? Even though they barely knew me at all, and a ton of people sent me Christmas presents, like...like being nice is just normal here...
[Bewilderment gives way to something rawer, something that makes his face drawn. Hurt. The recognition of futility; the pain of trying anyway.]
And I can't--I've been trying but I can't, I can't stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can't stop thinking about whatever awful thing's waiting for me in the shadows around the corner--and whatever it is, I'll wake up and be in a dream bubble and Lord Fuckin' English is gonna be there with his green death beam rays or whatever and I'll stare him right in his ugly, ass-murdering face and that'll be it, everything will be over and I never--
[His voice breaks. He makes a noise and covers his mouth with one hand, looks away, wraps his other arm tight around his rib cage like that'll help somehow.
It doesn't.
He slides down the wall until he can curl into his knees, arm still pulled protectively across his chest, temple pressed to the wallpaper. For the first time in over three years, Dave Strider starts to cry, quiet even without the hand clamped over his face. He's all hiccuping breaths and soft sounds, almost voiceless, until he continues.]
All I can think is, what...what was that, why did I...if it was always gonna turn out like this, if I couldn't do anything, wh...
[He has to gulp for air, swipe his fist under his eyes. His voice rises only for this:]
no subject
Dave sucks in a breath like he's wounded, bumps straight back against the wall nearest the dresser. He stays there, hands pressed against the wallpaper, and holds that breath for as long as it takes before he can trust himself to speak again. His voice comes out low and reluctant. Miserable.]
It's too nice here.
[Once he starts, it's like the words won't stop. Karkat wanted him to talk, and. Well. Here Dave is, talking.]
I got here and nobody else was here, you know? Nobody I knew. But a bunch of people came to talk to me instantaneously to help me out, and they teleported me to Cherrygrove City even though it wasn't even that cold yet, and so many people have offered to breed Pokémon for me or gave me clothes or food or...someone sent me a birthday package, you know? Even though they barely knew me at all, and a ton of people sent me Christmas presents, like...like being nice is just normal here...
[Bewilderment gives way to something rawer, something that makes his face drawn. Hurt. The recognition of futility; the pain of trying anyway.]
And I can't--I've been trying but I can't, I can't stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, I can't stop thinking about whatever awful thing's waiting for me in the shadows around the corner--and whatever it is, I'll wake up and be in a dream bubble and Lord Fuckin' English is gonna be there with his green death beam rays or whatever and I'll stare him right in his ugly, ass-murdering face and that'll be it, everything will be over and I never--
[His voice breaks. He makes a noise and covers his mouth with one hand, looks away, wraps his other arm tight around his rib cage like that'll help somehow.
It doesn't.
He slides down the wall until he can curl into his knees, arm still pulled protectively across his chest, temple pressed to the wallpaper. For the first time in over three years, Dave Strider starts to cry, quiet even without the hand clamped over his face. He's all hiccuping breaths and soft sounds, almost voiceless, until he continues.]
All I can think is, what...what was that, why did I...if it was always gonna turn out like this, if I couldn't do anything, wh...
[He has to gulp for air, swipe his fist under his eyes. His voice rises only for this:]
Why was I even there?