lucybox | slams hands on table best friends

slams hands on table best friends

[ dave strider ends up choosing cinematography to study because, fuck, why not? it's almost graduation when he finally decides, and it's sort of at random. it's not that he doesn't like video-taping shit (he does) or that he isn't into special effects and sound stuff (he is) but there's a lot of shit dave is into and he wasn't sure how to translate that to college. he loves music; he loves dance; he's really into the film shit and his shitty comics, but he definitely can't do art because the shitty comic quality isn't shitty on accident. but he consults with his siblings and he thinks about it hard and he makes a decision.

and god, it was easier to be excited about that decision before memories and past lives and powers came into play, but it's still kind of cool. dirk hated college but dave likes the idea of it. he likes the routine normality that it seems to suggest, the way he feels kind of grown up and like a half-competent adult when he packs up his shit and heads off to university. it's still in the city so it's not like he's really gone, but it's enough of a distance to allow him to pretend.

these days, somewhat to his surprise, dave wants to pretend. rose doesn't remember a thing about anything going on and his parents probably never will, and it's strange and too much like playing pretend every day to live there. he can't tell them about anything. he can't even tell roxy, because he doesn't want to mention most of the things he knows to anyone. even the tiny things are seeming more and more dangerous, because then it's just a chain of memories, all the way down the line, and eventually they'll all remember the shit he doesn't say, but -

but. well. he can, for now, pretend to be an ordinary kid at college. he has a schedule? he has a mini fridge. he has a room, and he's carefully pinned up a few posters and sorted all his things. he's mindlessly listening to music with his earbuds in when the door opens, and he tracks the movement even behind his shades and sits up. ]

Yo - [ he's absolutely never met the guy who just waltzed into his (their) room but dave absolutely knows him. he reflexively reaches up to adjust his shades. okay. shit. that's john egbert - or...someone? maybe his name is different? but it's john, egderp, the dork who really likes mc...whatever and hates cake and who gave dave these shades, once upon a time, and he's here and really a real live person and ok dave maybe stop staring you're being weird.

shit he's in kindergarten again? how the fuck did you make someone your best friend back then. did you just go up and say "mine" and call dibs? does someone else have dibs???? can dave fight them for dibs -

STILL STARING, DAVE ]

Uh, [ internal screaming ] I'm Dave. Sup.

[ an attempt was made. i guess. ]

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Even if she doesn't, hangin' out with Rose is...mostly relaxing.

[ not being able to tell her shit? kills dave slowly. but he always finds spending time with his sister...necessary. maybe not easy, maybe harder than it used to be, but it is a vital component of his life.

dave glances back at the door as they leave. yeah. both names on the door. he is an idiot. ]

But I am pretty much down to spend time with you and the girls in any combination in any way.

Mostly. [He's leading the way, not at all bothered by everything around them and even waving to a few people they pass in the halls on their way out.] Once school starts, I think it would be fun. I'll even keep the whole memories thing out of the conversation unless one of them brings it up first.

[He will probably fail at that.] ...now that this is all out there, I want to know. Do you want to make things like how they were in your old life? Or are we starting from scratch even knowing we knew each other?

[ it feels suddenly like a test. dave has to remind himself that tests should not make it hard to breathe, because they're not like the tests bro used to set. he has to remind himself bro isn't the guy with the cap and the traps and tricks; bro can only ever be dirk, who has never lifted a hand to dave in his entire goddamn life. ]

Whatever you want. [ wait, no, that sounds pathetic even if it's honest. ] I mean, I figured we'd get to know one another. You're not the same exact guy [ and dave has some differences even if he thinks they lessen day by day ] and I'm not goin' to "remember" the life you've lived in this world 'till now. I kinda have to get to know it from you, dude.

[He's not obligated to be Dave Strider's best friend just because he was in an old lifetime. At the same time, he can't help but wonder if these two people who grew up separately and didn't meet until the age of 18 will form the same way that two people who met at 13 and, what, hopscotched the universe, did.

He knows the only one putting expectations here is himself, but that's the funny thing about friendships that cross several universes. Even not knowing Dave or what Dave's really like, even not knowing about Texas and Rose and SBAHJ and strifes and music, Dave is still someone he instinctively knows he'd stick close to and he'd listen to and would fight for. If he fucked up their friendship somehow in this universe, he's not sure how he could fix it. But that's a line of thought for another time and another place and something he shouldn't worry about. Instead, he figures he agrees with that.]

Anything you want to know, you can ask. I don't really have anything to hide from you, I think, so I don't mind questions if you don't mind my answers. I may not be the exact same guy, but apparently I am similar enough that you could pick up those similarities right away. [Weirdly, he seems to remember someone trying to say that he was pre-destined to marry Rose so that they could repopulate a universe and how weird that got. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to deal with something pre-determined, hence the question and giving Dave his own choice.]

I'll let you know if anythin' comes up. But I don't have to figure it all out at once. [ if there isn't a time limit, if john isn't going to run away or disappear, then it's okay if it takes months or a year or a decade or eternity. dave's pretty sure eventually he'll be conditionally immortal or something. if there's one thing he has in spades, or will have in spades, it's going to be time. he has no idea what he can or can't expect here, but "a chance" was maybe the only thing he wanted, so.

like. that works? ]

And you can ask whatever, too? I mean...my life was pretty normal up 'till the age of seventeen. [ this time around. ] But I'm sure there's anecdotes in there somewhere to entertain.

No, you don't. But we might not be roommates next year? [Like. That's a possibility but he's not sure if they should even be thinking that far ahead either. John's content to stay and has no intention of leaving for at least four years. That's something, isn't it? They'll make it work.]

I don't know what normal is anymore, considering what's happened today. [But hm.] Tell me about your comic then. [Nice and easy. They can do that as they trek across campus, music building in sight.]

[ okay, ow, although obviously they don't have to make rooming plans now on day one dave is like "but what if we are, though, and sign up together???" but also: john met him today, and he just met john. today.

dial it back, strider.

he opens the door to the wing they are leaving, so they can go...towards the music one, as they are doing. ]

SBaHJ? Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. I mean it's...mostly dumb jokes, I guess, but also bad mspaint stuff. You know. I warned you about the stairs, bro.

[One day at a time, Dave. He's still overwhelmed by a lot of this even if he's not saying so just yet. Off they go and Dave explains the fine art of SBaHJ and he laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head.]

We...used to quote that to each other, didn't we? You, me and the girls. I can't believe you started it again on this end of things. [The joke was enough to help him remember little pieces, at least.] I guess I will have to look at it myself when we get back. I was already planning on googling it at least. [He doesn't seem to care about mentioning that.

At least the music building is closer than they anticipate and John walks in, leading the way like he's been here before. In truth, when he toured the campus he absolutely hung out in the music building. He knows where to go from here.] Dumb jokes are still funny jokes, you know? "Irony" and stuff.

Like you understand irony at all. [ a pause. ] Well, maybe you do here, or whatever, but not in the sense I've usually used it, maybe.

[ since dave's "irony" is not really ironic in the way one would like. use...the word normally...generally...he's an idiot, okay. ]

But as long as you find it funny. Site's easy to find, I can send you a link if you want, too, to save you from the dubious tender care of google.

I think I understand irony just fine. [So no, he sure does not. There's a raise of his eyebrows as he nods though, entering a room with Dave trailing behind him and walking past a multitude of instruments up to a grand piano.]

Sure. You have my handle now, just tweet me and I'll look whenever I check my twitter again. [He slides himself onto the piano bench with ease, spinning to look back at him then.] I still can't believe you actually have time--[What the fuck is he saying.] You know what. Never mind. I do.

[He flexes his fingers a bit, staring at his hands instead.] How do you want to start?

[ john keeps looking at his hands, and dave wonders if john's got a traumatic piano backstory and he just fucked up taking him here.

he slides onto the bench next to john. ]

Depends. Want to play me somethin'? Or do you want me to play you somethin'? I can do somethin' I remember or somethin' I wrote here, or whatever you want. Or you can do...whatever you're gonna do.

[Nothing as traumatic as being doused in chemical waste, it's okay. He actually perks up a bit when Dave joins him and stops looking at his hands, tilting his head just slightly.]

Yes and yes. [Hm.] You should play something you wrote here so that I can match the sound and see how we can mix them together. Okay?

You got it, palhoncho.

[ pulls off a homestuck bandcamp song because why the hell not.

on a piano dave can do a little less than he can on like. a keyboard. with mixing equipment. but he's trying. ]

[It's fine. This is fine because John's watching Dave in profile for the longest time, eyes flickering between his face and his fingers on the keys before his own hands come up, playing the same notes on the opposite end of the scale in harmony with what's being played. It's only the last few notes, letting Dave do most of the legwork before the song finishes and he continues staring at the keys.]

I'm not really sure what I thought you were going to do, but it wasn't that. [And given his expression that's not a bad thing at all.] You actually know how to play. [He can pinpoint a few places Dave could tighten up and he can tell this isn't a strength, but it's enough and it's what John focuses on even as his index finger causes a key to dip over and over again.] That shouldn't be too hard to match at all.

Edited (html why.) 2017-05-11 03:41 (UTC)

My mom's a piano teacher. [ it's been a while since he played straight, because usually he likes to mess around with music, add effects, work with gelling different instrumental tracks into something new - but he had the lessons, even if he put more time into dance. ] I didn't play before, but I mixed still. I can do a few different instruments, though I gotta say I mix better, and this is about the best I do with other ones. Rose refuses to let me touch her violin.

[ he can't play that so well. the corner of his mouth tilts upwards, but he keeps his gaze on the keys, and it's probably possible sitting sideways to actually see his eyes through the gap of the shades. ]

You play - past, present, future tense - better than I do, bro.

[A nod. That makes sense at least. Even given how he's been sort of digging his heels in over the subject, music is something he appreciates on all levels. His fingers continue pressing on the keys idly though it's not without reason. There's the beginnings of a tune there as he reacquaints himself with the keys, starting out slower.]

I don't think I've ever thought of mixing. It never really occurred to me to remake music in different ways. [He kind of likes the way he can at least see behind the shades. Somehow it makes Dave seem more real and not just some elaborate hoax. He's embarrassed to admit he hadn't been quite sure even up to this moment but went along with it because it made sense. But the more information he receives and the more he learns about this Dave Strider, the better.]

I keep telling you it's been a while since I've played. [And even so, he's steadily sliding into a song as he speaks.] But I guess some things make sense. [And from there he goes quiet again, focusing solely on playing until he finishes. His eyes are on the keys the whole time, watching his hands fly on their own accord and finally settle in the middle despite not saying anything in the aftermath.

So yes. Present-tense John can absolutely play, too.]

You haven't told me why yet, though. [ it's a question without being a question, exactly. and rest assured, john, dave is a real dude. with real-person flaws. his eyelashes are way too light? his hands have weird callouses from a sword, even though he'd never held one until a few months back. probably he needs to get a trim for his hair, which curls at the ends and which he could maybe also stand to brush. he's at least the kind of guy who takes care of his clothes, but his sneakers have doodles of terrible art on the edges, like he got bored and took a sharpie to them at some point, because he definitely did.

see? real.

john stops playing, and after a second, waiting to see what he'll say, dave starts up again, far more hesitant because it's a half-remembered tune, and the one he remembers best was a remix. how did the original go...? ]

[And he doesn't say anything again, instead he's watching Dave just as carefully as before. It's easy to memorize the person sitting next to him and see how they could have fit together in a past life, but at the same time it's still something like starting a new adventure.

He doesn't think beyond that. This is definitely how his life is going to go now, and even as Dave is slowly plunking at the keys John's hands move in again to pick up the slack, guiding along and filling in the blanks of this song.

He remembers this song. He's never played it before but he remembers and it's easy and familiar. His shoulders relax and he's content this way enough that he can at least explain.]

My dad taught me to play. And it was weird to keep playing without him. [No other reason. It was just something that felt off about it.] So I switched after a while.

Do you mind playin' now? [ with john filling in the song properly, dave shifts to a more backup role, able to follow along with less hesitance now that someone is carrying the melody better.

he wonders how much like john's dad from before his dad in this life is. he wonders if john's dad died, again, or if he left (can't be much like him if he left), but dave thinks maybe there are things you don't ask.

asking if john minds what they're doing, however, feels relevant and maybe okay. he stops watching his hands on the keyboard and looks over and watches john, intent. ]

[He doesn't mind when Dave pulls away and he's fine carrying the tune on his own, easily remembering a time in a house that isn't his current one where he played this same song. It was his thirteenth birthday then, wasn't it?

Dave is allowed to watch him because John knows he's starting to do the same the longer they're together. It's less weird now that he understands.]

No. [It's second nature. It's music and it does make him happy even if he's ignored it for so long. He finishes it out and he turns to face Dave again, quirking an eyebrow.] Not so much, no. It's another thing that carried over, that's all. But I wonder if he taught me in that lifetime, too. Stupid. [He shifts on the bench, sitting sideways so that he can face Dave properly.] So what do you think? We could probably create something cool?

Everythin' I make is cool, obviously, so yes. [ another of those statements that sounds asshole-confident, said in a very slightly joking monotone. ] I think we could make somethin'. Lots of different things, really? What used to happen was just getting sent tracks, I think, from all of you, and doin' whatever. But you're, like, right here.

[ obviously. but it's said like that's kind of amazing, shut up, ]

So it can be more, you know, interactive than just one side and then the other?

How could I forget. [They're falling in a rhythm at least, and it's only belatedly he realizes the phrasing could have been better and he even goes as far as smacking his palm against his face.] Aw jeez that's not what I meant. I mean it is, but not that kind of forgetting. But that sounds like something I would do, so I can believe that.

[...that's cute, Dave.] I'm right here. We could co-write something together without having to wait for timezones and stuff to sync up. Hearing things in real time to make a good song. Think anybody in the dorm will get mad if we bring a keyboard back to the room?

I mean, even if they get mad, fuck them? [ #best way to make friends, but he's biased and only cares about the one friend currently. ] I think as long as we don't drag a drumset back we should be solid, maybe.

[ that would be pushing it. ]

Have you ever tried to move a drum set? Shit's heavy. And anyway I don't really want to get kicked out in our first week but we can probably also borrow some strings. I can't do violin like Rose but I can kind of figure out guitar enough. [John tried to be cool once. It didn't work out.] Whatever you want, I'll match. It's more interesting than homework.

[Never mind that school hasn't started yet.]

I could probably put some of it in my 'dex.

[ IT'S CONVENIENT when you aren't fucking flinging stuff from it on accident. ]

Keyboards, then. This'll make stealin' them easier, just watch.

[ dave don't - okay yeah he's just going to put a keyboard in his sylladex. ]

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