#anywaves

like joining them cus I'm not in any so asking moots who r is it like. Anything at all idk do you guys get what I'm saying

Your name is Dirk Strider and it's been three months since your already jaded heart got broken by a boy with the greenest eyes you've ever gazed in to. It's been hard, that's much is true, and the only reason you haven't broken down and cried for a week is because you've already done that. You did it the moment you broke up with him, via text no less, then shattered your phone against the wall in your heartbroken frustration.

A whole week spent laying in bed, urging yourself to sleep instead of dealing with the ache of your heart and the buzz of your mind telling you that it was your fault, your fault, your fault, and you didn't do anything to fix it, that you ending it and cutting him out of your life was the most cowardly abscond in history ever. You hate yourself, for a whole week and then some, but even then you've been nothing but pragmatic. A week after tears and forced sleep and your brother walking on eggshells to keep you company to the best of his ability, you suck it up and put on your mask and your shades and try to pretend that you were okay. Things will probably get better, and it's never been a good idea to dwell on things anyway.

If Jake didn't want you in his life then that was fine. You kind of understood where he was coming from. Sometimes, you can't even handle yourself. The only reason Dave puts up with your shit is because you've known each other since you were babies, you grew up together, the two of you understand each other without needing to communicate it much. You tell him you're sorry for the week of tears and the random lashing out. He tells you you owe him one. At least things at home are fine, at least home can still stay a safe place.

You delve into your work, you create with your hands, and try to be happy. You try to imagine your life before Jake stepped in and stole your heart and broke it. It's easy because Dave is there and he acts like everything is fine, that you'll be fine, and sometimes  you believe it because the only other option is to acknowledge your sadness and grief and less than savory thoughts.

Roxy talks to you. Not about Jake, thankfully, but about everything else. She's always been good at that, avoiding the topic but letting you know that she was aware of it and that if you were ready to talk she'd be there all ears and no judgment at all. Sometimes you wish you fell in love with her instead. The two of you already got a lot of chemistry, she understands you like no other and when she doesn't she makes the effort to. She makes you talk about the things you don't like talking to, but she never forces you. She always makes you feel that you're worth something, she always makes you feel that there is someone out there who loves you despite all your faults.

Two months in and you're getting better. Honestly you're dealing with it much better than you thought you would. Though you don't get to talk to Jane as often as you used to, she still sends you little snippets of her life through pictures and little stories when she has the time.

Dave, thank god for Dave, the biggest constant in your life. Always punctual and always on time— he always sets time aside for you especially when you ask for it. He's honestly the only person you'd ever ask for help without the shame knife twisting in your gut. Because you know the sacrifices he makes for you, you would do the same.

You meet a guy named Equius. The best friend of Dave's weird cat friend. He likes horses. He likes building robots. He would like to maybe hang out one time to build robots and afternoons later you're constantly over at his place tinkering with metalwork and wires and talking robotics with someone who understands. It's good, it's nice, and the first robot you complete together is a little metallic horse the size of a cat. It doesn't do much, honestly its more like a noisy roomba where the vacuum is in it's hooves, but its kinda cute in a weird way and you two make several more. Equius' apartment turns into a little robot horse rodeo, and you're amused by this and the awkward way Equius tries to explain to his neighbors that nothing illegal is going on.

The cat girl, Nepeta, you thought that maybe she was dating Dave but she's not. She's so different from the type of people Dave usually surrounds himself with so you're a little bit surprise to know that they're honest to god good friends who go on friend dates to the movies or at the mall or just playing with Nepeta's many many cats. You're... Happy that your little brother has someone like her, someone who's emotional baggage wasn't as terrible as yours. He's always all smiles after their friend dates, and he's always so much happier too.

It's weird when you start to feel happiness again. It's also pretty weird to realize that, though you've been enjoying your time with Equius, you kind of forgot what it was like to feel happy. Well, either way, you're glad that emotion is back in your system because you've missed the way a smile feels on your own face.

You and Dave clash swords that night. You sweat up a storm, but when you're both panting for breath at the end of the afternoon you can't help but bust out a wide grin full of teeth and dimples— even as Dave cuts a considerably big chunk of hair when you're caught off guard.

Three months, three months, three months. You feel fine. You're starting to wonder if you ever liked Jake to begin with. You start to wonder that maybe you liked him because he was your closest friend. Maybe you liked him because when you suggested the relationship he had said yes. You're not sure; maybe it was a spur of the moment, maybe you were just so desperate for a relationship that you threw everything into the one you had with Jake. You're not sure, and you're not sure of a lot of things, and it keeps you awake at night.

Three months is when you see Jake again. It's late at night and you were just going down to the 7/11 for a soda when you see him leaning against the door of a relatively expensive looking car.

You want to escape when your eyes lock. You really do. But his eyes are so fucking green even under the poor lights of the moon and the gross yellow street lights, and the awkward smile he gives you accompanied by a wave of his hand is enough to get you to stop. You're frozen even as he approaches you and before you can even begin to convince yourself to run he's in front of you.

"Hey..." he says quietly, nervous like you've never seen him before.

You bite your tongue, but you mange an even quieter "hey" in response.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, kicks the dirt under his shoe, as his mind whirs for the words he wants to say. Jake has always been a man of action with a foot in his mouth. "I suppose a 7/11 parking lot isn't really the best place to be having the conversation that I've been meaning to have with you."

You want to feel angry, but you're not. Okay, maybe you are a little angry, but you're civil enough to keep that in check. You don't say anything in reply.

"Was quite a shock to see you here," he says, filling in the silence as he awkwardly fumbles in his attempt to remain casual. "But I guess I'm glad to see you, else I woulda put this off longer than I already have." It's not that you're giving him the silent treatment, you just don't know what to say. But he takes your silence as consent to continue. He looks around, rubs at the back of his neck. "But this really isn't the nicest place to talk about... things... So if it's alright with you could we catch some lunch tomorrow? The usual place."

You bite your lip. You should say no. Your head nods and you hate yourself a little bit.

"Alright," he says with a relieved sigh. He grabs your arm, scribbles his number on your skin. "I figured you might've deleted me from your contacts," he says and he doesn't sound like he's upset by that at all.

"Oi, English!" a voice calls. You both turn just as Jake writes the last digit. "Let's go already, geeze!" A stranger who looks too snooty to be coming out of a 7/11 walks up to the car, glaring at Jake expectantly.

"It was nice to see you again," Jake grins at you, capping the marker before shoving it in his pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow," he waves as he leaves but turns around once and considers his words before blurting them out. "But, uh, I guess if you get cold feet that's alright too. Just shoot me a text." He gets into the car and it drives away.

You stare at the digits, knowing deep in your heart, that he didn't have to write them down. You still have it memorized anyway.

The next day, at the usual place. You didn't tell Dave. The whole cool kid routine you both have going on is easily disturbed when it comes to each other. Dave's protective of you, you're protective of him. If he knew who you were meeting he would have offered to come along.

You see Jake before he comes in. He's with that guy from yesterday, and another dude you don't know. He exchanges words with them, a little argument with no heat, before the other two leave and he walks up to your table and sits down. He looks out the window, where the other two are looking back, and waves them off like a kid urging his embarrassing parents away. Thankfully they leave but not without giving you a significant look first. You try not to think about what it could mean.

"So uh listen, Dirk," Jake pulls your attention back to him. His dimples are so attractive. "I know that things between us didn't exactly..." he does a weird gesture with his hands. "Go as we had thought."

"Understatement of the year," you tell him, your first words to him in months.

He smiles apologetic. It sates the simmering anger in you for a moment. "I guess," he agrees. "Well, I'm not trying to make excuses, and I really hope you don't take this as one..."

You nod. You'll let him talk all he wants. You deserve to hear what he has to say, and right now you're in control enough of your emotions and you know that you wont take him back instantly if that's what he wants.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he says and twiddles his thumbs. "I was kind of... relieved when you said it was over."

You try not to take it the wrong way. It kind of stings.

He tells you how suffocated he felt and how uncertain of everything too. He tells you that, after the time you've spent apart, he got to know himself better and started to understand why he was feeling the way he was while you two were dating. "I don't have romantic feelings for you," he tells you. "I don't think I ever did."

Internally, you are floundering. "Then why—"

He holds his hand up. You shut your mouth. "I don't think I have a single romantic bone in my body," he tells you. He looks down, as if he could really see his bones, then back up at you with a little wry grin. "Not a sexual one either."

You press your lips together. You're not sure what to say.

"And I guess that's what bothered me. I liked you but it never felt like it was enough considering we were boyfriends," he explains. "It felt like you were giving me so much, and I wasn't really giving anything back."

You nod fiercely. It felt exactly like that.

"It made me feel... Awful. I thought that maybe I should take the next step, that being letting you bed me," he doesn't turn red like you expect him to. You thought that maybe he was shy about the whole sex bit of the relationship, or not ready for it, but that's not his reaction at all. "But then... I didn't think I could do that. I didn't... Uhm, no offence again chum, but the idea of sleeping with anyone sent goosebumbs all over."

Things are starting to make sense. "You're asexual." Its a statement not a question.

"Yeah. I didn't know that was a thing until recently. I am also, apparently, aromantic as well," he tells you and he looks like he's proud for remembering that word.

You want to forgive him. He's genuine, always is and always will be. But there are still some things you have to get off your chest, and you're not gonna run away from problems anymore. "I hated what you did to me," you tell him finally. The first month you'd been making raps about how much you hated him and his guts. Now you can finally filter those feelings to him, but in a way that involved less swearing and irony. "You ignored me instead of talking to me about how you were feeling about everything."

He looks unhappy to admit it but he nods. "I was a coward is what."

Your expression softens considerably. "I was too," you tell him. "But you really made me feel like it was all my fault."

"It wasn't!" he jumps up, both his hands gripping at the table. "I swear to you Dirk, it wasn't your fault. That was all on me, and I'm really sorry!"

"It..." you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose under your shades. "It wasn't just you," you tell him. "I'm sorry too."

He lets out a sigh of relief again and sags against his chair. "If you wanna give me a bruise, I won't stop you," he says. "I think I deserve that."

You raise your fist, he flinches as you throw it towards him. But you stop yourself half an inch before your fist hits his face, and instead you just touch his cheek with your knuckles. "I'm a full grown adult Jake," you say with a soft laugh. "I can solve problems with words."

"But sometimes it feels good to use your fists too."

You can't argue with that, but you're in public and you can't exactly punch him even if you wanted to.

"I do want my friend back though," he tells you after a beat of silence. "I really miss you."

You feel a flutter at your chest. It is relief. "I missed you too."

He leans in, for a hug, and you hug him over the small coffee table and spill some of your coffee everywhere. It's kind of embarrassing, but you miss him. Before he was your boyfriend he was your bestfriend, and you didn't want to lose him.

When you separate finally you move from sitting across him to sitting next to him. You take your coffee, sip, and then smile. "So who were those guys?"

"Oh!" he smiles. "They're my new neighbors! They're a delight, I'm sure you'd get along!"

Honestly, you don't completely forgive him. Not yet. But you've missed him dearly and you suppose the road to forgiveness has never been that easy anyway.

big mood