relaxfriend | IC Inbox for soulgemmed

Was I the one making this into a big deal.

[He intones the question flatly, but clearly doesn't expect an actual answer to it; or rather, he doesn't want one.

Whatever, it looks like Gary is dropping this, so it's best to leave it at that. He follows, idly looking in neglected corners for anything that might pass for a note.]

Yes.

[And he leaves it at that.

Upon spotting the clothing store he walks in, unable to help the wince that happens upon his features. It wasn't a matter of Gary being so used to wearing finer clothes, it was the fact that literally everything in here was awful. Ugly, glittery, giant letters spelling out something dumb on t-shirts, patchwork jeans because somehow the hobo look became a thing?

Trying his best to ignore the eyesore that was this entire shop he once again begins looking through the clothes wracks for notes, lifting up some shirts laid out. He really didn't care so much about this town's secrets anymore. Perhaps to an extent, as a need for information, but he had much more important things to be thinking about. And if he's going to be taking time away from that he doesn't want to be wasting it on something this dumb.

With a sigh he lifts up another shirt, nearly taken aback by the silvery shine that nearly blinded him when the store's light reflected off of it. He winced even harder than when he entered the store as he lift the shirt up in front of him, a look similar to one you would wear if you smelled something rotten. The silver material was nothing in comparison to the shiny gold sequins spelling out the word "Top Dog" in the front.

Disgusting. What kind of asshole would wear something like this, he wonders, while turning to wherever Dave is at the moment.]

Hey, Dave. You have to try this on. Right now.

Uh.

[Dave briefly looks back over his shoulder, towards the exit of the clothing store. It isn't far. He could take a few steps back and he'd be free.

For a moment, it seems as though he's seriously considering just straight up moonwalking the fuck out of here. Then he says finally:]

I think I'm good with what I've got on.

Dave, don't be such a baby.

[Holds up the shirt more, now walking over to Dave as if he needs to see it closer. Wow it's kind of big.]

Just try it on.

[Yeaaaah, he's just gonna back up one step for every step Gary takes towards him.]

Dude. This ain't what we're here for.

[Okay but what if Gary goes around him and gets between him and the exit. What if he does that while wearing his trademark shitty smirk.]

C'mon. It's way too cool for you not to try. Besides, it's not like we've got a time limit.

[For a moment, Dave forgets that there are repercussions to touching Gary Smith, that doing so would activate a certain power that he absolutely does not want activated. For a moment, all that's on Dave's mind is the way Gary's been laughing at him and making comments at his expense, so infuriatingly goddamn smug, and how he's sure Gary's sudden insistence that he wear that outfit is just more of the same: a joke to be had at his expense.]

I'm not putting that thing on.

[He takes a few steps towards Gary, then extends a hand out towards his shoulder to push him aside so he can leave this store.

All it takes is his fingers lightly brushing against fabric before a memory is pulled forth.]

[There's a face on a mirror - Pokey's face - set to the backdrop of Dave's house. Pokey is saying something, word after word after word all running together. Vitriolic threats pour endlessly from his mouth. "I have never, ever sincerely wanted someone to die as bad as the jerkoff running the website. I mean, I want them to have every internal organ, I mean just all of them, torn out of their body then shoved back down their stupid fat mouths." "You only have a finite amount of space to hide too." "I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna kill you, you piece of shit."

Then the screen of the mirror goes dark, and Dave's voice rings out.

"I didn't haul your ass back to a safe place just to watch you slap a big fat red target on your back the moment you stopped being stone cold cadaver-dead."

When anything is visible again, it's clear that the point of view is now of Dave, standing in the interior of his house.

Words are exchanged; statements escalate into shouts, and suddenly, it's like something snaps inside of Dave Strider. Whatever emotions the memory had been giving off before - frustration, concern - suddenly dissipate, leaving a complete void of any feeling in their wake.

A voice rings out, cold to the point it almost doesn't sound like Dave's; it definitely isn't the voice that Dave uses when he speaks to Gary.

"So basically what this all boils down to is I wasted my time trying to save a guy who didn't actually want to live. That's what you're telling me, right? Should've said something earlier; would've saved us both some time and effort."

The sudden shift in demeanor appears to take Pokey aback. "What? That's not what I meant. That's not what I meant." The expression on his face is one of shock. "I don't want to die. I don't want to. I. I'm being a dumbass. I go out that door, I'm going to get myself killed. I need to stay. For a while at least. Or I'm just going to get myself and a ton of others hurt."

It's a plea, but the only reaction it inspires is a surge of utter loathing that seems to almost drown everything else in the memory out.

When Dave answers Pokey, there isn't an ounce of understanding or sympathy in his voice. "You're so full of shit it's basically a miracle it's not leaking out of your ears. You never once cared about anybody in this place for even an instant. I mean, you've always been too stuck on Mayfield, haven't you. So what's it to you whether anybody here gets hurt or not."

Pokey says something here, but it's inaudible; inaccessible in this memory, as if to evidence just how little the one recalling this memory cared to hear what was being said.

Dave's house bursts into raucous laughter, and the couch Pokey had been sitting on disappears from under him. Then the front door swings open.

"Get out."]

[Even after the memory's ended, Dave doesn't move an inch. He doesn't reel back in shock or remove his hand from Gary's shoulder. He just stands completely still, as if frozen in place, his expression inscrutable with his eyes blocked off by shades.]

[Normally when some idiot is about to touch him and he can't get out of the way in time it's like slow motion. But Dave knew about his power, and so he hadn't actually expected it from him. As usual the shock of going from one place to "another" makes his body stiffen, the ugly shirt falling from his grip. It takes him a moment to get acclimated to what he's seeing...what he's feeling.

The loathing, something he was oh so familiar with didn't catch him off guard, nor the frustration. The concern however was jarring and annoying. But when it simply dissipates into nothing...it's a relief. And it's also not an unfamiliar thing for Gary...he can go from 0-60 and right back down to 0 in an instant. And then the surge of loathing came back and Gary could feel when Dave grinds his teeth together...only to realize a second later that it was himself, out of the memory.

When it's over Gary doesn't move either, except for the subtle shake in his shoulders. These feelings, they were so painfully familiar that it took a moment for Gary to come back...to remember where they were standing. But seeing Pokey's face, being the same dumb idiot who tried so hard to masquerade as someone who cared when he never really did. It was pathetic. It was pathetic and it infuriated Gary that people like that existed. Infuriated that somehow, people loved to praise that type of asshole. The type of asshole who was so pathetic he had to convince himself he was a "good person".

But Dave...for all he spoke highly of Pokey back in the day, he hadn't stood for it. He hadn't bought it. He did something stupid by bothering to help that moron in the first place but he learned. He learned what a disappointment people could be - just like Gary had at an early age.

Gary hadn't realized his breathing picked up from the surge of anger. His gaze shifts to the hand still on his shoulder, to Dave's face, hidden behind shades as always. What a prick. His denial wasn't so strong that he didn't realize he couldn't poker face even if his facial muscles suddenly went numb. But Dave had learned a lesson. And it occurs to Gary that just hearing about it hadn't been enough. He had to see it. Maybe Dave wasn't so hopeless after all.

He reaches for Dave's hand, not worrying about bringing forth another memory as their contact hadn't faded. He squeezes and pulls as if trying to get some clingy creature off of him, and pushes his hand away - nowhere nearly as rough as he could have. Should have. What an idiot. He doesn't move though.]

Pathetic. [His tone is quiet, only the two of them being able to hear. His words drip with disgust.] How could one person be so pathetic.

So disappointing.

[He shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of residual feelings. He looks back at Dave.]

Why do you look so down? You should be relieved you finally booted him out of your life.

[It occurs to Gary that he's still high off the emotions. His mouth shuts as if he had planned to say more but stopped himself, a hand reaching up to run through his hair.]

[Those words should have cut Dave to his very core. They should have stung to hear, and they should have stung a lot. It's only because Dave isn't all quite there yet - because part of him is still acclimating to suddenly being thrown out of that memory and part of him is still stuck in that memory - that he instead regards it coolly, managing a sort of calm he absolutely wouldn't be able to even fake if he'd heard Gary say such words to him under normal circumstances.

Really, it isn't so unexpected, though. The moment he triggered that memory, his heart had dipped, and he'd begun to steel himself for just that reaction; for rejection, for disgust. For Gary to want nothing to do with him anymore.

It's only the reasons behind Gary's disgust that come as a surprise to Dave.]

What makes you think I'm down about that.

[He says it automatically, and though the words roll off of his tongue evenly, he recognizes dimly at the back of his mind that they're probably still revealing of the fact that it had always been Gary, what Gary would do, what Gary would think of him that he'd primarily been concerned with as the memory began to play out.

"Pathetic," huh?

In the end, it was an accurate word to use in describing him.]

[Gary smooths over unseen wrinkles from his clothes, straightening collars that needn't be straightened. It was as if he had to make physical adjustments to get his mind together.

Things were more clear in his head now. And when Dave replies, Gary almost sneers. What kind of a question was that? Why did he have to have these moments of stupidity?]

Well you're down about something. I don't need to see your eyes to know that much. What's wrong with you?

[At that, it's like Dave's mind truly and completely comes back to the present, and before he even realizes he's doing it, he's begun to laugh.

The laughter comes out of him uncontrollably; strange, almost nervous-sounding laughter that Dave recognizes with slight horror. He knows what usually follows this type of laughter, knows that it has a way of transforming into something that most definitely could never be mistaken for laughter.]

I... really fucked up this time, didn't I...?

[The instinct to abscond and to abscond now, before his laughter could get out of control, pounds loudly in his head; but Gary's still standing between him and the exit, and he's just received the worst kind of reminder of what the consequences will be if he tries yet again to force his way past.

"What does it matter at this point," part of him says. It's not like Gary hasn't seen the worst there is to see of him, that he hasn't already ruined everything with this. It's not like seeing anything else would change anything at this point.

What was it that Gary had said not long ago? "It's like you forget how well I know you." Well, perhaps that had been less true than Gary thought it was when he'd said it; his reaction, his complete disgust at seeing that memory just now, that what's wrong with you, was proof of that.

But now it really is the truth, isn't it?

Just do it. Just shove your way past him, that voice in his head insists. But still there's part of him that doesn't want to, and his legs freeze up beneath him as he considers all the other things Gary might be able to see; a part of him that still, even when it thinks everything is already lost anyway, cares too much about what Gary would think of him and doesn't want Gary to see a moment of weakness.]

[Gary Smith was rarely ever confused by a reaction and the few times him was it was maddening. It made he act rash, and harsh, it made him needle at the person he was speaking to until they broke because Gary Smith didn't like being left in the dark. Dave was laughing. And then the laughing changed...and Gary couldn't imagine why.]

If you're talking about the stupid move you made just now, yeah.

[It wasn't even as bad as it could have been. Dave is the one making this so awful.]

You're acting like a lunatic, Dave.

[God, did he, looking back at that memory, actually regret what he did? Was Gary wrong about him? Was he just shittily trying to deflect that implication because it's true? He can't miss having that loser by his side after all of this, can he? No. He had won. Gary had won.]

You aren't answering--

[Dave's words ring in his ears, followed by his own. His reaction to that memory. Dave's reaction to Gary.

"What makes you think I'm down about that?"

"Pathetic."

The realization forces a heavy sigh out of Gary and a roll of his eyes. He drags a hand down his face. What an idiot. What an idiot.]

Why. Are you. So hopeless?

[Hopeless. At one time, when he and Gary had just met and Gary didn't yet know any better, Gary had thought of him as someone with potential. The contrast between then and now - a Gary who knew him and a Gary who didn't - really hurts, and it might have been the last little push needed to finally transition Dave's increasingly hysterical laughter into sobs.

He brings a hand awkwardly to his face, reaching behind the shades to shield his eyes as if, in doing so, he could hide what was happening from Gary. There's a part of him that's immediately resentful; you should have known things would end up like this. No shit Gary didn't actually know you half as well as he thought he did, because if he did, he would've ditched you a longass motherfucking time ago.

That's why he wears the mask, isn't it? Because if people saw the real him - the him who was so goddamn weak, who had failed to live up to every expectation that had ever been thrust upon him - none of them would ever give him the time of day. He's always known that on some level, and so he must have known he couldn't possibly keep this up with Gary; Gary, who was always too perceptive to truly be fooled by any of Dave's acting.

A voice inside him, already trying its best to cover up the hurt - to prevent the hurt by lashing out - says, fuck him. You don't need him anyway. You never did.

Dave needs to say something here. Something harsh and scathing. "I don't give a shit what you think," or "Guess for all your talk you couldn't actually tell jack shit about me, huh."

Instead, what comes out is:]

I lied to you.

[Tears.

There were Tears. Something Gary derived great joy in forcing out of someone. The ultimate reaction aside from blinding rage that he had gotten so deep under someone's skin, had been so right about something, forced them to see something they tried so to deny. It was a testament to his dedication. His ability to overcome others with his superior everything.

It didn't feel like such a thing as he stood here and watched Dave try to desperately hide away what Gary already knew was happening.

That is, until those four words came out of his mouth. An admission. Dave didn't try to run, or come back with something stupid in an attempt to get Gary to be the one to leave. He admitted something. And while Gary was about to tell him to stop blubbering - he was talking about Pokey when he had been so disgusted, now he wants to hear this. He has to hear this. Because Gary always had to force things out of people, even if he already knew what he was forcing. It was power. It was control. And the thought of it caused a swell of pride to course through him.]

Elaborate.

[Dave grits his teeth. He doesn't know why he just said that, and he doesn't understand why he isn't replying to Gary's command for elaboration with an emphatic "fuck you."

This... all of this... has gone way too far beyond what was supposed to happen, and he keeps replaying scenarios in his mind; how did things ever get to this?]

I... [Don't say it. Don't fucking say it. Don't give him shit.] ...didn't ask to come out here with you 'cause I wanted to scope the place out for notes or whatever. I just--

[The part of his mind that had been screaming at him to keep his mouth shut throws a mild tantrum; another part responds scathingly with, "what does it matter, he already knew that part anyway."]

I dunno, I guess I wanted to see you.

[And a part of him shudders in revulsion at how that sounds; at how weak-- no, pathetic it is to express such a sentiment out loud. The part where it was motivated by insecurity - by the fact that ever since Dave had contacted Gary about Dirk, Gary had stopped responding to his texts as regularly as he had before - goes unsaid, and Dave can only hope that he hasn't lost enough of his mind yet that he's even spilling that, even if he's for some reason opted to messily spill the rest of his guts uncontrollably from his mouth.

No such luck, unfortunately.]

I mean, we're supposed to be-- ["Bros" is the word he thinks he probably was trying to say here, but instead his breath hitches in his throat uncomfortably when he reaches it, as if to rebel against the idea. Maybe it was because of what that word had come to be associated with in recent events; of family ties that can't be broken, of two people that were currently at each others' throats for no good fucking reason.] ...tight, but all of a sudden it's like I don't fucking exist or I dunno, you've got a schedule jampacked so tight you can't even be assed to answer a guy and let him know you haven't up and gotten involved in whatever other hostage sitch they're gonna throw at us next or earned yourself a nice little vacation in some place nobody can reach or fuck if I even know with the millions of fucking ways people go missing in this town.

I... [Dave clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again. Then, as if straining himself to decide how he'd wanted to finish that thought or if that thought was even worth trying to finish, seems to settle on deciding to shut it again and keep it shut.]

["I dunno, I guess I wanted to see you."

He knew that already, but something about hearing Dave say it out loud...accompanied by tears...it's as if that's what he had needed. He knew exactly how badly Dave would react to Gary's intentional reduced texts, his "busy" schedule. He knew he wanted to make Dave hurt like...he hurt him? No, he hadn't been hurt. That was stupid. Annoyed, frustrated, slighted...there was something else, something that made him infuriated but he chose not to look too deep into. Instead he made up his mind that he would make Dave hurt. And it worked. He hadn't expected him to start crying at him, or pain at this level. But he did expect it.

He felt that same swell of pride from before. Along with...he doesn't know, happiness? Yeah, this made him happy. Not like when he kicks someone in the balls and brings tears to their eyes. Or when he ruins someone's week - or life even - with a single rumor. This was different, somehow. And he liked it. He really, really, liked it. The odd thing, though, that stood out to Gary more than he'd care for it to...was the thought in his head. He already knew he had Dave wrapped around his fingers. And since Bro arrived while he was incredibly paranoid about it at first nothing really changed. And yet, this right here, Gary feels like he needs. It just always seems like it's not enough. It wasn't enough that Dave attacked a dream of his own brother for him, or that burned every last bridge aside from him, or that even now...he still hasn't walked away from Gary, as if rooted to the ground before him.

It doesn't seem like enough when it should be.

But for now, it proved something that Gary had been worried about for a while. With every little "sign" that Dave could slip from his fingers...this brought Gary back to the reality that was their...whatever it is. Friendship, he guesses.

A small, but noticeable smile creeps to his lips. He debates his next words, if he should let him off this easy. But maybe this is something Dave earned.]

I was talking about Pokey.

[But he doesn't elaborate and instead opts for letting that sink in.]

[For a moment, it's like Dave sees the words leave Gary's lips, but he doesn't actually hear them. That smile on his face doesn't portend anything good, and he expects...

He expects some mocking comment, or some declaration that Gary never wanted to see Dave again, or...

His mouth hangs a little in disbelief, and the sudden rush of conflicting emotions that hits him once he realizes what Gary just said to him is almost dizzying. There's the relief, the elation that comes from realizing that he was wrong; that he wasn't being cast aside, that it was a misunderstanding. Then his face pales in slight horror once he realizes what he's just done - those embarrassing admissions, those tears - for absolutely nothing.

In the end, the only thing he can manage in response is a quiet, awed sound.]

Oh.

Oh.

[Gary echoes with a raise of his brows. How easily he was able to reduce Dave to the point of tears, and then bring him back again with just a single sentence. He felt elated, proud, good.

The smile widens until his lips part, laughter bubbling out before turning into a guffaw.]

You thought I meant you? Didn't I already tell you that you did the right thing, Dave?

[Gary had said that, it's true. Dave still remembers how elated he'd been then. How those were the words he'd wanted to hear most of all, some reaffirmation that he wasn't in the wrong so that he didn't have to keep replaying those events in his mind at night, unable to sleep from the guilt of casting someone out on the streets when to do so was to put them in harm's way.

Dave slept a lot better since then, but still there was a part of him that thought that Gary only said those those words because he didn't really know what happened. He hadn't full understood the circumstances surrounding Dave's severance of that friendship because Dave purposefully didn't touch on all of the circumstances, because Dave had framed it in a way that left out certain parts. He hadn't physically seen, with his own two eyes, the way hateful way in which Dave had treated Pokey; and once he saw those things, he would surely be disgusted.

But... he isn't?]

I...

[Those aren't fears that he can give voice to, so instead he fishes through his mind for some adequate response, trying to not let Gary's laughter get to him even as his face starts to flush in embarrassment.]

Look, your power threw me off, alright?! Not like it's every day you suddenly find yourself getting tossed headfirst back into an old memory you hadn't even thought about in ages.

[The laughter had died down leaving Gary with the same look as before. Though the happiness loses its effect seeing as how it's laced with his usual smugness. Dave was embarrassed. Predictably. And it was great.

He shrugs. And just like that his body language reverts to normal, as if this episode didn't just happen. That doesn't mean he's letting it go, however.]

What a mess you made. All you had to do was ask me to hang out. You know, like normal?

[Nope. Definitely not letting it go.]

[Leave it to Gary Smith to ensure that any relief Dave feels never, ever lasts for long. God, what a douche.

He opens his mouth. He thinks it's probably to say something like "can we just drop this," or even just "shut up." Instead, what comes out is...]

If I did, would you have said yes.

[Never let it be said that Dave Strider's number one enemy is not, in fact, his own mouth.]

[Gary shouldn't be surprised by Dave's ability to dig his own hole deeper and deeper. It's expected. It's just how much? It's like a game, really. How deep will he dig in the next minute? In the next second?

Gary purses his lips as if he's holding back laughter. It's a mock attempt, really. A second later and he bursts into a fit of snickering.]

Why do you ask that? Because I've been a little busy, lately? [His head cants to the side. He offers Dave a look of mock sympathy, as well as his tone.] Aw, you just needed me to check in? How precious.

[For a moment, Dave's mouth moves, but absolutely no sound comes out. He forms shapes, beginnings of different words, but ultimately he abandons every unfinished thought.

What the fuck does he even say to that? He could deny it, but would he be able to deny it convincingly? Signs point to no.]

Whatever, man. Can we just go, I'm pretty sure the store owner's got to have gotten pretty sick of our shit by this point.

[Were there any people in the store staring when he started laughing like a madman earlier? How about when he was crying? God, he dares not even look around him to see.]

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