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“Don’t go, or you’re gonna die.”
That’s the first thing out of your mouth as soon as you see yourself standing there, pestering your best friend who went and offed himself because he’s a huge moron who should know better, but he usually doesn’t and that’s what happens when you’re not around to take care of him.
But anyway.
“What kind of gullible stooge do you think I am?” It’s him. And you wish it were John speaking to you, instead of yourself reading off his text. You wish you could hear him. And you snap off the first thing that comes into your head, bashing the goddamn troll who told him to do this in the first place.
And then, “If future you is real, then why don’t you let me talk to him?”
If you… If you’re real?
Something twinges painfully, knowing that John doesn’t believe you. And okay, maybe it’s pretty far-fetched, but you’re the Knight of Time. This kind of shit is normal for you. And you know he has more than just rocks rattling around in his head. He can keep up with this.
“If our friendship means anything, you’ll listen to me and past Dave.” You wait, and then you finally see that blue text on your screen. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed it until now. This stupid banter back and forth. His dumb sound effects. You missed him.
After a verbal workaround, you finally get him to do what you want, telling him that you’re going to stick around and help out. Help all of them. Help him.
Because he’s your best friend. And he’s already died on you once. You’re not going to let it happen again.
Dying is your business. You’re the one who runs around behind the scenes and lets the others take the stage. Because you know that you’re not the hero of this story. Not current you, future you, or even past you who now has the chance to do things right. John’s the hero, and you exist to help him fly higher. You exist to help him shine. And you can’t do that if he’s fucking dead.
That’s why you’ve come back.
For him.
Caw, caw, motherfuckers.
~~~~~~~
“Hey no offense, but do you think I could talk to the real Dave for a second?”
“God dammit, I am the real Dave. You know, the one who saved your life. I’m more real actually ‘cause I’ve been through some heavy shit already, hopping around on red hot gears and i-beams for, like, a year, and grinding shit out for your ungrateful ass. Here, look, check out this code from the future, not that you deserve it. You’re fucking welcome.”
It’s not the first time that you’re glad to be on the other side of a computer screen. It makes it a lot easier to keep your cool. You’re not sure if you’d be more or less upset if you could see him. This way, at least you can come off as royally pissed instead of really fucking crushed.
He backpedals, making excuses and explaining and trying to soothe your feelings like the sweet, though idiotic, guy he is, but the damage is done. You understand, now.
No matter what you do, you’ll never be the real Dave. You’ll never be his Dave. Instead, you’ll always be “orange Dave.” The one with huge wings and a wispy tail for legs and a shitty sword run right through your middle.
Maybe you were trying to fool yourself. Maybe you thought that, if you just tried hard enough, sacrificed yourself enough, told him enough, were there and helpful and the best friend you could possibly be…then maybe it would be enough.
You make the most embarrassing cooing noise in the back of your throat. You wish it didn’t sound so fucking sad.
~~~~~~~
You shouldn’t be here. You know that.
But you’re one wing short and dripping tangerine everywhere you go, and you try to tell yourself that it makes sense because this stop is somehow on the way to Jadesprite.
It’s incredibly out of your way. But you? You have all the time in the world.
All the time in the world, but you can’t spend it with the person who matters the most.
Fucking irony, huh?
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, you appearing before him like this. You hope you’re not scaring him or something. You wish you could have seen him in person earlier. Wish he could have seen you in all your lava-hopping, turntable-spinning glory. But this will have to do.
His eyes go wide behind his glasses, and you decide that the God Tier hood looks good on him. It belongs there, fluttering in the breeze. The breeze he creates with his awesome hero powers.
You? You wield a sword that’s flecked with your own blood, likely from the gaping hole in your middle. You’re broken. Wounded. Probably dying, if that’s a thing that sprites do. But you’re doomed, and you know you’ll end up dead soon enough. You’ll make dying a thing that sprites do.
But that’s enough of the pity party. Why focus on yourself when he’s right here in front of you?
Finally, finally, here.
“Dave?”
God, his voice is wonderful. Even coated with worry like it is, you can’t get enough. And he called you Dave. Almost like…almost like you’re his Dave.
You fly toward him, more because you’re a sprite and less because you have wings, because you only have one, now, and what good can that even be?
You realize that, had you met him just a bit earlier, you couldn’t have done what you’re about to do. You would have been hampered with a sword hilt. But like this…you can be close to him. You can float mere inches away, staring down at him as he blinks up at you, blue eyes pulling you in until you’d rather drown in them than pull free.
Where else would you rather be?
Your sprite tail winds around him, and you hope it’s not cold or uncomfortable, since you really have no idea what you feel like, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away.
“Dave?”
There it is again, and no, your breath is definitely not hitching in your chest. Your eyes are definitely not clouding over behind your shades.
It’s just that…he’s perfect.
And it kills you that he isn’t yours. That you aren’t his.
But maybe he’ll let you pretend. And maybe you can give him a few ideas of his own. Because you can think of at least one other Dave who would love to be on the receiving end.
Moving slowly, you let your sword drop to the ground. You’ll pick it up later. And now your arms are free. Free to wrap around his shoulders. Free to hold him like you hadn’t known you wanted to until you saw him. How could you do anything else?
“John.” Your voice is dry and worn, which isn’t surprising. You’ve just come from fighting Jack, from watching your brother die, from barely saving your own neck in the hope that you could still do something. Still be useful.
His forehead is warm against yours, and your eyes are closed to make sure he can’t see them. That’s not your place. That’s his Dave’s place. To be the first. But…
You press your lips to the crown of his head, and your remaining wing flutters behind you for a moment before settling. This is just what you wanted. What you needed.
Except that John’s arms are winding gently around your torso, above the bandages so he doesn’t injure you further, and no…this is what you needed.
He’s perfect.
But he’s not yours. And he never will be.
A strange noise bubbles up in your throat, and if anyone asks, you’re going to say it’s because you’re dying and you can’t help it.
He whispers your name again, and you shudder, helpless in his arms, your mask in shreds.
“You can do this, John. I believe in you.”
And then you’re pushing him away before he can reply, leaving him with a sad smile as you pick up your sword again. That’s the most emotion he’s ever seen on your face, but you hope it won’t stay that way. You hope past you is smart enough to make this happen. You believe in him, too.
You flash out, stepping through time as easily as John bends the wind, and then you can’t see him anymore.
You’re aching and sore. You’re tired. And your heart is threatening to burst straight out of your chest. But you’re still smiling. Because even if he’s not your John to have, he’s still yours to protect. And that’s what you’re going to do.
Besides, you get the feeling that you’ll see your John soon enough.
And you know exactly what you’ll want to do.