your heart twists & sinks as you stare blankly at the computer, the white light enveloping you in its frigid claws. you want to stop the shaking as your eyes scan the blue words over & over again. breaths come in & out, sharp pauses piercing the hollows of your throat, inhibiting your efforts to gain control. fuck it hurts. god it hurts. you try to breathe calmly ( let his soothing breath heal your wounds ), but every time you look up at those words, you’re reminded of how much of a failure you are –– you couldn’t do this. it’s your fault.your fault your fault.
the sound of your brother’s voice is a pin under your ass, causing you to nearly jump out of your seat like a grasshopper running away from a child’s curious hand. he stands in the doorway, his face a perfect stone to those who didn’t know him. but you’ve learned to detect the slightest furrow of his brow in his seemingly impeccable composure.
he’s worried for you –– not in the condescending, fake way that your bro showed in times like this –– it’s real. just as real as the studio ghibli dvds & cheetos piled up near his chest. normally, you would shoo him away –– let others see only the marble manifestation of cool & composed while the lava emotions brew inside you. but somehow you can trust dirk… because he understands how it feels. to be a strider meant making sacrifices–– sacrificing your well-being for your image of being fucking awesome in every way possible.
you flop on the bed, shaking hand patting the sheets full of fading card suits. somehow, after all these years, you couldn’t let go of these bad boys.
❝ hell yeah, i’m down for that. ‘ you manage a weak smile, a tiny crack in the marble as you pour the cheetos into a bowl you kept beside your bed. how long had it been since you ate ? fuck if you knew. ❝ dunno about you man, but i’m kinda in a ghibli mood. feelin’ all sorts of spirited away, y’know ? ‘ // [src] // @strderstyle
he wasn’t sure why dave was off. his chest twisting at the familiar symptoms that he had experienced occasionally in those quiet days in the middle of the ocean. however, he wasn’t about to INVADE the other’s space. he wasn’t about to be what the other’s guardian had become -- what that version of himself was.
so, dirk would wait until the other gave permission to enter the room -- much like a vampire, the more humorous part of his mind would PIPE up about. shades are shifted upward, settling them on the top of his head.
a sign that the other could talk if he felt like he wanted / needed to.
half smile decorates his features, & he moves forward. tossing the cheetos onto the bed. the bag quietly crinkles, & dirk watches as his brother grabs the cheesy heaven snack & places them in a bowl. as they should be properly displayed.
hand slightly pushes the bowl closer to his brother at the longing look he gives, as he nods once.
❝ spirited away. good choice. i’ll toss it in. not LITERALLY, tossing it would be such a disrespect for miyazaki. under this roof, we do not insult the great power that is miyazaki. least we are cursed by his absolute power. ❞ playful tone bounces around the room, & his eyes linger for a moment.
❝ if you want to talk or whatever, i got a good ear, i’m told. i’m pretty sure if you split up my god tier symbol, it looks like an ear. god, WAIT. am i not the prince of heart, am i the prince of ear ? that’s significantly less cool. ❞
he was rambling -- mostly out of nervous energy, another dose being in hopes to get another chuckle or half smile from his brother as dirk slides the dvd in.
