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You knew he was afraid of heights, but you took him up to the roof anyway.
He stumbled after you as you went up the couple flights of stairs, stammering in his way of his that you've grown to find ironically charming. At first, you did not appreciate the fact you were stuck with this failure of a troll, whose sick fires he dropped felt more like ice cubes that melted into puddles of secondhand embarrassment, for god knows how long in this dreambubble. But as time (which did not apply in this place, but still existed in the sense there were things that were now past them) went on, you could not help but feel a bit comforted by his company. It was better than being alone.
You wouldn't tell him that, though.
You both reach the roof, and even though it's nighttime and not actually a real place, it's still warm out and you still wear your sunglasses.
Tavros's wrist is still in your hand; you had to drag him up here, and you know you'll have to drag him to the railing that outlines the edges of the roof, too. The rails have saved your ass many a time in your past life when Bro would duel you (actually, they weren't duels; more like ass kickings because you never won.)
"Uh, I know I am dead so I can't, really, die again but. Being high up is making me really, uh, uncomfortable."
"We're going to make you comfortable."
There wasn't a lot, but you had gotten some insight to Tavros's history in your time together in this bubble. All you know is that he was shoved off a cliff, and became paralyzed, then got a wheelchair, then a flying rocket car, then robot legs. Maybe if you didn't experience the crazy shit you did in Sburb you would have laughed at this once piecing it all together, but you can't bring yourself to mock it.
Tavros's sincerity was just something you couldn't mock. His genuine interest in things was something that reminded you of John, and rather view him as a tool trying to be cool (which he was, honestly), you grew to appreciate him for what he was anyway. So if he genuinely enjoyed something you showed him that you knew was ridiculous but liked ironically yourself, you were cool with that.
But you couldn't deny he was kind of an awkward loser. Perhaps making him face an obviously big fear of his was too much, but you had to start somewhere if he wanted to be a cool dude like you.
"Come on."
You lead him to a corner of the roof, the rails meeting in a curved point, and push him into the space. He squeaks, and grabs the rails; leaning over a little to look, you can see his face is stretched with worry and anxiety. You don't feel bad, though.
"Get on the bottom rail."
"I am uh, not comfortable. With that." His voice shows he is not lying, though Dave knew he wasn't one to lie.
"I'll make you. And I promise to hold you so you won't fall, baby."
Tavros's face turns into a shade of muddy orange, and you hear him gulp hard before he lifts a shaking leg. You click your tongue at his shitty choice of footwear for this; if he was going to slip and fall to his not-death, the sandals and socks combo would have to be the sole fucking reason. But he manages to stand up on the lowest railing, his body having to bend just a little to grab hold of the top. He looks terrified and damn pathetic.
You take a hold onto his wrists, and you can feel him tremble standing up there. You allow yourself a little secret smile before you lift a leg, stepping on the rail beside Tavros's foot, hoisting yourself up and then placing your other foot on the other railing. You're standing behind him, looking out over the empty city.
You resist the temptation to lean in and take a deep breath and smell his neck, to get even closer to him. It is certainly a homosexual thing to do, and even if you don't care if you are gay or not (you're fucking dead, who gives a shit), you aren't into that touchy feely stuff anyway. Or so you think. But regardless of that, you know you could if you really wanted to; Tavros did not hold you up to any kind of standard. If you stepped out of your cool kid persona (and you have before), he still only saw you, not unusual behavior. Tavros didn't understand that when you were upset, you put up a facade, and didn't give you shit if you held it up or not; he only saw the fact you were upset. Being dead gave you some upsetting things to think about, after all.
He accepted whatever you did no matter what purpose you had behind it.
You pull on his wrists, and you can at first feel resistance before you actually feel the thin fingers slide away reluctantly from the rail. The yanks you give him are rather harsh, and he yelps a little, but soon you are both emulating that scene from Titanic, and you hum the tune into the top of Tavros's mohawk.
"Uhhh, wow. I am really uncomfort--"
"Say 'I'm flying, Dave.'"
"What?"
"Say it."
"I'm, uh, flying, Dave."
You chuckle out, unable to help it with how sincere Tavros had said that line. The fuck you know what else happens in that part, though; you never saw Titanic. You were too busy watching quality cinema like Good Luck Chuck to make time for a shitty movie about a ship hitting an iceberg.
You slide down your arms and wrap them around the troll's waist instead, and you can feel him continue to shake in nervousness; you give him a squeeze.
"Settle down, toots, I got you."
"But what if you, uhh--"
"What if's are stupid. Don't go stupid on me, Tavros. It'll only end in tears."
He goes quiet, and you can feel his trembling subside, slowly but surely. Soon you are both still, looking at the same thing, feeling the same warm breeze.
Slowly, Tavros started to sort of sing, but it sounded more like speaking.
"When there's a, uh, smile in your heart, there's no better time to start. Think of uh, all the joy you'll find when you--"
"What?"
"Uh. Weren't you referencing, Pupa Pan?"
"Peter Pan?"
"Oh, yeah."
"What, no. Titanic."
"Oh... ohhh."
As Tavros slumped against you, you snorted and simply gave him another squeeze. Yes, this was particularly ridiculous, and ridiculously gay and sappy and bullshit. But you didn't care. Tavros's hands slowly came down, and he placed them on the front of your arms looping around his waist.
"Dave, I want you to uh, draw me like one of your highblood girls."
"What?"
"Is that from, Titanic?"
"I never saw Titanic."
"Oh. Then why did you--?"
"Shut up."
And you quiet him with a kiss.
If that happens in Titanic, you have no fucking idea, and you really don't care.