towerofanimus | Don't Wake Me Up

Entry tags:

Don't Wake Me Up

Characters: Dave Strider and John Egbert
Setting: John's Room; 2-14
Format: Either; Ideekay
Summary: Dave and John both died during Hide n' Seek. Dave isn't willing to really talk it out with anyone, but John. And really, he's more worried about the other then whatever trauma that lingers from his own death.
Warnings: Dave's terrible no filter mouth, mention of death, hide n seek gone terribly wrong, teenagers with too many sad feels most likely, paranoia is a terrible mistress

For the first few seconds, he had panicked when he awoken and his whole body was paralyzed. The panic webbed away quickly, and he laid there to gather his thoughts. He wasn't sure why he couldn't move, and it kind of scared him, but he was sure that this place wouldn't have brought him back just to paralyze him and let him lie there to rot away again. And sure enough, he soon was able to move. He'd have to harass people later about what's up with that.

When he glanced and saw the bear, it took every ounce of him not to scream and not to try and destroy it right on the get go. It didn't move and just sat harmlessly there. Shit...he doesn't think he'll get used to that. On the upside, it isn't skinning him. The thought makes him shudder as the memory comes back to him full force. He'll never get used to dying, as much as he pretends. Especially when dying used to just be slit throats or stabs. This was different. He was left to die. Alone. And while he had people on the line to talk to him while he bled into darkness, it was kind of unsettling. To lie and know that you were by yourself and no one was around but some disembodied voices on the other side of the line. Also being skinned? Not pleasant.

Then he remembered that other people played. Not just him. But he remembered John played. And oh fuck. Did John even survive? He doesn't know. He knows John was alive before he died. He kept watch of that. But it blanked on him pretty much on the results of this game. He got to his feet, not caring to change out of slightly rumpled clothes and was sprinting out to John's room. If he was lucky, John would still be there. If not, he'd just go on the world's biggest wild goose chase for that stupid derp. "John? ...Egbert? You there?" Oh, do you have roommates? Too bad. Worried broships are more important.

That sure is Dave Strider barging into your room like no one's business.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Upon waking in his bedroom, still paralyzed oh my god but definitely alive, John decided that he didn't want to wake up right now. He-- he wanted to close his eyes, turn away from the curtains, kill the alarm clock, sleep until noon-- he wanted to go home. And that was what he did. Every time he woke up, he kept lying still until he went back under again, because wherever he was in dreams was better than being here.

So when a voice he didn't recognize as Dave's came ringing through the room, John's reply was groggy and hidden under several layers of blankets that weren't his. "No, he'nnot, go away."

Wow, okay. That was so rude, John. You don't even know. He ran his skinny sorry ass and you're being a wimp and hiding in your sheets. And he can't even be angry because he feels bad that you're like this. He just walks over to the bed, hands shoved into pockets and trying to be and sound as nonchalant as possible. He thinks he's doing a pretty good job.

"Egbert, as much as I'd like to agree with your methods of coping and the hopes that it might actually work, 'M pretty sure that this isn't going to actually help you in the long run. So how 'bout we get our little blue clothed butt out of those sheets and get some talking done instead. That sounds better then wasting your life away in this bed, don't you think?" He swears if you say no, he's tossing you out of bed. He seriously will. "Also, I'm extremely offended that you won't even come out of the sheets to greet your best bro. You don't know how many pages of heartbreaking emo poetry is going to fill up my diary tonight."

Yeah, okay, rude, whatever. He's seen a lot of rude from you, Dave Strider, you should be accepting of his rudeness and not even comment on it, you hypocritical fuck. But now that Dave is actually walking over to him and has started talking, John grumbles some more and reluctantly turns over in bed, blinking at the foggy Dave-shaped object for at least five seconds before remembering that he doesn't have his glasses on. (Oh, that was considerate, they respawned him in comfort.) He threw an arm out to the nearby table, begging for there to be his lamp or something there but there was not, only his glasses. He pushed them on and slowly, slowly, moved the blankets down so he could sit up in bed.

"Yeah, okay, talk to me about it... go on, you stupid psychologist. Ask me how it makes me feeeeeeeel." He looked up at Dave and leaned his head on one hand, pouting; but now that he's got the sleep out of his system, that sure is a little squished grin on his face right now. Only a little one. "Hi, best bro. I'm out. Hope my greeting is up to your expectations. Please don't deprive the tower of next month's paper rations too, I already screwed everyone over for this month."

That's because you decided it was a good idea to be best friends with an insufferable prick who tries too hard to be cool and impressive. You should have thought that out before deciding that the kid behind that bright red text was gonna be your biffle forever. Dave doesn't move though, still standing next to the bed.

He replies, voice not giving away anything as usual. "Hey, Lalonde is the one in charge of the psychoanalyzing. Unfortunately, the Strider version of her is a bitch who doesn't care much for it and I know jack shit about Lalonde me. So you're stuck with Strider and his sad excuse for a feelings jam." Dave doesn't return the grin. God, could it kill him to drop the coolkid act during this time? Well, no, he's sure if he does, he'll be a mess. No one wants to see that. "I don't know dude. I'm pretty bad ass when it comes to poetry. But let's be serious for a bit." His eyes linger around the room. Oh gross, John has a bear too. "You died," he states.

Look, he had bright blue text and Jade had bright green text, Dave totally just matched the set at the time. And look how well that turned out, eh? Eh? Try to get a present for you, end up destroying the world and making you become a time god of a fucked-up session? John Egbert is the best friend on the planet, man, you should be grateful for all he's done for you.

Mention of Rose Strider catches John's attention. "...Wait, there's a Strider version of her?" Despite himself, John couldn't help but grin at the revelation. "Wow, that's harsh. As if regular Rose wasn't bad enough, she has to be even more intolerable. I pity the Dave who has to deal with her!" Aww, look, he was even smiling there for a moment... but then Dave decided to bring back the heavy questions, and it was quickly (too quickly) wiped off his face.

"...Yeah."

He'd be more grateful, but the fucked up session is something that he thinks he might have preferred to live without. As much as he liked the immortality...dying sucks man.

"Well...yeah. She's not so bad though," he admits. Rose Strider was hard to pin down honestly. There was a lot of things wrong with her, and to some extent he legitimately thought how someone could end up worst then himself. But he wasn't going to think about it too much right now. There was plenty of time to think about it in the future.

"How'd it happen?" Because Dave didn't know how to sugarcoat a question like that. He could make the most outrageous metaphor, but it still would just wind down to that one question, and he wasn't in the mood to play his own games. "I'll swap stories if that helps any."

Huh, Strider thinks she's alright! Maybe he'll make an attempt to seek out this Rose Strider in the future; she sounds like lively company. "Yeah. 'Not so bad' in the same way you are, then?" John shrugs. You are awful and insufferable and just totally standoffish in every kind of way, Dave, sorry. But you're stuck with him now, hooray!

...And yeah, he's suddenly a lot more quiet. He doesn't exactly want to just crawl up and go back to bed anymore, because Dave interacting with him has pretty much solidified that he's stuck in this nightmare for the long haul -- or at least the rest of the day. So he repositions himself on the bed and starts to explain about his time in the master bedroom. "Well, I hid in a bedroom, under the biggest bed in the house. A little later two other people came in the same hiding spot as me, a boy and girl. Romeo and Molly. They were actually pretty nice, though Romeo kept trying to remind everyone to keep their spirits up or something, it was a little weird. We were found by a bear -- it killed Molly but not Romeo and I, so we kind of had to... sit there with her next to us... yeah. We had spiders for a bit, but they backed off before they really bit us or anything. But then another bear found us, and the spiders came back... and they were... biting. And we couldn't move. And... uh... yeah."

Oh look, the other side of the room. Suddenly it is really interesting and John feels compelled to stare at it, instead of, y'know, Dave.

Dave would have mentioned that she was worst off then he was, but he thought it wasn't in good taste. He was still trying to figure her out.

"Oh. Misery likes company huh?" He let's out a shaky laugh. As much as he hates the thought that John died. That John died and he couldn't do anything about it suddenly bothered him. Suddenly, no amount of training through their session could get him to do anything about what happened to them. "Sounded comfier then where I chose. Probably should have thought about the fact we'd be hiding for hours. Guess I didn't think that through very well." Oh god, he's rambling about something as dumb as hiding spots. He has to keep his hands in his pockets because he's afraid he might give away that this was bothering him more then he was letting off. This wasn't something Dave wanted John to deal with. Dying over and over? That wasn't John's job. That was his.

"I..." He hesitates. Would John even want to hear what happened with him? Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he can avoid talking about himself dying again. He's done it once. Twice. Okay, more times then he should have, but another time won't make a difference right?

"Yeah, I guess it does." And of course, the good humor that was present before is now all but gone. They've moved on to other topics now, topics that... well, somehow don't seem appropriate for a really stupid joke. Clearly there is something very, very wrong. Fortunately for Dave, John isn't even looking at him -- he's still totally enraptured by the wall, the ceiling, another bed, or actually anything that isn't Dave. So if he's slipping up on the cool kid front, John didn't see it.

"Where were you hiding? A little cabinet or something?" Dave was a pretty thin little guy, he probably thought that he could make it in with all the pipes and cleaning products. Yeah, not happening. He barely made it under the largest bed available, even if there were two other people sitting in the same place... the amount of times he hit his head, and then hid in the shadows from the bears, was too high to count.

He's glad for that, honestly. He didn't want John to stare at him. Shades or not, it's hard to keep yourself standing when you have too vivid images of what happened during that game in your mind. The paranoia of all the strange oddities around you while you hid in a musty cabinet and being too scared to see what was causing it.

"Cabinet under the sink. Might have hit my head against that shit once or twice. Seriously, my cramps were getting cramps at some point. On the upside, everything smelled like pine and freshly done laundry," he drawled out. Looks like he's going to to keep pretending things are alright.

"I knew it." And, yes, there was an undertone of a laugh to John's words, just for that once sentence; because he had known it. That was totally the kind of place Dave would try and hide. Everyone knows that if you can fit under the sink, it's the best hide-and-seek location there is... except not so much, taking into account the events of the previous night. "I was breathing dust. Trying not to sneeze for... god, I don't even know how long it lasted. But trying not to sneeze for that long? Has to be some form of torture on its own."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess I was kind of fucked though. That stupid bear didn't want to leave the kitchen. I bet it knew I was there, and was just taking its time just so I can think over how fucked I was." He shrugged a bit. Like it was no big deal. Pretty sure he's never playing hide n' seek again though. "You should get a badge of honor. 'Did not give into the evil claws of sneezing.' Or something. Lucky for me, I had no sneezing problems of any sort."

Seemed like a good idea at the time. Right. It always seems like a good idea at the time. "Jeez, that's nasty... I didn't even see them coming, it was so dark in my room." That didn't improve the situation when the bears did find them, because both times, it took him a moment to realize that there's a little stuffed advocate of Hell standing on the other side of the room... looking right at him... "Yeah, I should be a martyr, Dave, I'm telling you. I always knew it was those damn dust bunnies, were gonna do me in one day." Wow... bad jokes... these are so much easier than actually talking about it, he wants to keep doing this.

Honestly, playing hide n' seek in general seemed like a terrible idea. He isn't sure why he let himself get convinced into such stupid crap, but guess he can't complain about it now. "I heard it opening things like cabinets and pantries. It was only a matter of time it would check the one I'm in. Of course the bear that found me had to be psychotic. I'm telling you dude, me and squishy adorable plush-like anything don't get along. It's about time I gave up trying to befriend them."

He laughs, a little shakily. "This...isn't that funny honestly? Like, these dumb jokes aren't helping and we're not even really talking about what happened. We're just dancing on its shores because we're too afraid to get a little wet or ruin our cute lil' dresses. But they're already ruined."

"I think they were all psychotic, Dave." And that was simply all there was to say on the matter.

And now he looks back over; Dave's nervous laughter, of course, prompted it. He had never struck John as the type who would do that, but lo, here it is. John rolled his eyes and pushed up his glasses again, as if this was enough to serve as an answer. He didn't want to face up to it... but, then, he didn't want to face up to anything in Sburb, either. And he did it anyway. Maybe... maybe it would help just to think of this tower as another level of Sburb, with no goal and infinite lives. It was certainly messed-up enough to give that damn game a run for its money. This... this tower just has to be another thing to beat.

"Yeah, you're right." John wrung his hands underneath the blanket. "Uh, I... heard some of your posts, on the network... what happened there?"

"Touche," he replied before going quiet.

Dave didn't actually really want to talk about it. He never talked about SBURB aside from that he'd be in the game longer then all three of them put together. But he avoided the subject because there was a lot of things he also did wrong in that time period. Things he didn't want to admit because admitting that you've potentially killed your friends or yourself or did something irreversibly stupid was just something you couldn't fix.

"Oh...yeah. People were talking to me since I got to lie in my blood for a little while." He's glancing up at the ceiling now. "I didn't want to give away someone's hiding spot. I mean, that's fucked up, why would I do that? So it dragged me out of the cabinet." He swallows, although his mouth is pretty dry. He continues, and he's pretty sure his voice cracked. "Skinned me alive then decided that wasn't enough and stabbed me a few times. I guess after that, it got bored, so it left me on the floor. I'm surprised it didn't salt me like a slug. At least go the full ten yards, right?" And he tried to make it sound light and casual, but it just sounded pretty sad, even to him.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Don't Wake Me Up

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject