Chapter Text
Dirk is 21, and you're 12 when you discover all that must be known about Dirk Strider.
It's March.
When the weather is strange, carrying the remnants of a winter's chill, yet hints at the coming warmth because spring is fast approaching.
When the weather is hormonal, as a woman entering her third trimester, the days fluctuating between a gradually warm and gentle breeze and chill and frosty mornings.
Today, it's the latter.
The sky is grey and gloomy, and rain showers block the sun's orange rays, forcing your twin sister and you to cancel your weekend plans.
Your small group of friends—which included your twin sister Rose, Jade, and John—had planned on seeing the latest in the ‘Quick and Fierce’ series at the local movie theatre within the local shopping center. Watching this movie was mandatory, especially considering that the last film ended on a major cliffhanger, the main male lead actor drove himself and his daughter down the side of a cruise ship to avoid a trap set up by the secret organization that has rebuilt itself within the C.I.A.
What can you say?
You're a sucker for obnoxiously bad and hilariously ironic films filled with a gazillion of unnecessary explosions and awkward camera angles.
Unlike John, whose taste in terrible films is on a spectrum and swings like a pendulum between nonsensical gibberish and painfully innate, it feels like you're rummaging through a stack of needles for a singular piece of hay whenever he asks your opinion.
Your lack of praise for his taste in atrocious movies doesn't stop him from inviting you to watch them, nor does it stop you from going to John's home to view them and bickering throughout the film's duration.
But back to the canceled plans of the day and enough about Egbert.
Additionally, Rose planned on introducing you all to some of her online wizardry and witchcraft friends.
She wanted John, Jade, and you to meet a girl named Kanaya—you have a ten-dollar bet with John that Can-ay-yah is a fake name—who attends the rival school of your junior high sports teams.
For the past few weeks, Rose has been waxing lyrical poetry about this girl and how she couldn't wait to introduce you all. She was delightful and a 'vision of modern elegance and complexity,' as Rose paraphrased it when Jade pestered her about what about Kanaya captured her attention and made her excited to introduce you all.
John had asked a similar question, and while you and John were confused by Rose's answer, Jade seemed more than enthusiastic about the now-canceled hangout after Rose's reply.
You couldn't help but find your twin's recent behavior increasingly… odd.
It mirrored Roxy's nonstop gushing about Dirk and made you have thoughts, especially right now, as you notice her downcast demeanor from across the kitchen table.
Rose's usual bright but flat expression had faded, replaced by a distant look. Her shoulders slumped as she picked at her breakfast absentmindedly, barely touching her meal.
Damn.
You ponder again for the millionth time what makes this new “friend” of Rose's so great to have your sister this upset over the change in plans due to unfortunate circumstances.
You know your twin despises last-minute changes regarding plans, but never have you witnessed her like this before.
It's not like you all won't be able to get together anytime soon, as everyone agreed to a rain check for next weekend.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden appearance of a stack of sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate chip pancakes and a cup of freshly store-bought AJ in front of you.
"Here's your order of homemade pancakes and apple juice, Davie!" Roxy chirps in an enthusiastic tone of voice that doesn't reflect the current state of the weather and hour.
It's 8:00 am on a Saturday.
Every Saturday, Roxy wakes up at the crack of dawn to fix the two of you breakfast.
"Thanks, sis," you say appreciatively, grabbing the fork and shoving as much food into your face hole as possible.
Since you were able to start forming memories, Roxy took on the role of caretaker in your bustling household.
With your mom working long shifts and odd hours as a Data Scientist and Radio Astronomer, it fell to Roxy to ensure Rose, and you were well-fed and cared for, for the most part throughout your early childhoods.
She'd assist in schoolwork, give bath nights, and wake you both up so she could walk you to and from elementary school before heading off to her respective school or club.
While your mother is now more present in the household throughout the week, Roxy continues some routines out of habit.
You hold no ill will or bitterness toward your mom for her being absent for a large chunk of your young adolescence. You can't imagine what it's like to financially support three children and go through two divorces while trying to obtain an educational degree and reach your career goals, and you've yet to hit your mid-30s.
Roxy used to tell Rose repeatedly and you as tots that your mother loved you all and was sad that she had to work long and odd hours. She needed to be gone to provide, and other people needed her too, as her work was necessary, and Roxy, you, and Rose's fathers were dirtbags.
And Roxy wasn't wrong. The glimpses you've seen of your mother's work are so phenomenal that you can see why everyone is always so impressed with her findings.
You can't vouch for the dad part because apparently, Rose and your father skipped town as soon as the divorce was finalized, all before your 1st birthday, and Roxy nor Mom breathed a mention of her father.
That's life sometimes, you suppose.
Yet, you can't help but wish your mom was home more often.
None of you have spent more than 35 hours with her this week, which is more than usual when she's working on a massive project, but still.
You know this arrangement isn't healthy or normal, as John reminds you repeatedly, but what is "normal," anyway?
Faintly, you recall the screaming match between Roxy and your mom during her first year of high school.
You hardly ever seen your sister as furious as she was that day. The entire neighborhood probably heard her shouts about how your mother didn't care for them and only cared about her work. A half-filled bottle of liquid that you now know to be vodka in her hands that suspiciously looked like the alcohol your mother kept locked up in her liquor cabinet.
You remember Rose squeezing your hand as you two hid in the hallway, tears running down both your faces as your mom and Roxy argued back and forth.
You remember the sounds of loud sobbing, a bottle shattering, fast shuffling, whimpers, and the soft promise to spend more time at home.
You guessed it was kept because your mom is home more now than before. You're basing this off that Roxy and your mom haven't gotten into another argument since then.
Well… you haven't seen them get into one since then.
However, you can still feel the disappointment roll off your shoulders and see Rose pursue her lips whenever Roxy tells you both that your mother had to leave early, or she couldn't make it to dinner on time.
This information may seem disrespectful to others, but sometimes, you can't help but view your mother as a distant relative you haven't seen for a long time because, outside of her achievements and work, you hardly know anything about her as a person.
Speaking of someone you haven't seen in a while.
It's been nearly a month since the last time you saw Dirk.
Ever since his and Roxy's budding relationship, Dirk would visit the Lalonde residence three or four times a week.
However, his presence has been strangely absent, and Roxy rarely mentions his name these days.
Before, she couldn't stop talking about him.
She would ramble on and on about Dirk and spend more time with him than her other friends.
Now, she rarely spoke of hanging out with him. It's almost as if the past year with Dirk's occupancy was non-existent.
If there weren't a few remnants hanging around the home—the violent-striped scarf he gifted Roxy this past holiday season continues to collect dust on the rack in the hallway since it was last used —you're positive you would've written him as some strange, chiseled, well-defined muscle nerd that you imagined as you grew older and more senile with age.
On top of this new development, you've noticed that Roxy's been more emotional than usual.
There are moments when, in the middle of a task, it seems as if a wave of sadness has washed over her, accompanied by a deep sigh of resignation. Her smile reaching her eyes less and less as dark circles become more apparent—a sign of lack of sleep.
For the last couple of nights, you can hear the faint sound of weeping from beneath the crack of her door and floorboard as you walk to the bathroom.
The first night you heard it, you paused in your stroll to make sure you heard right, but you suspect that Roxy may have known or felt a familiar presence outside her door as the weeping turned to muffled sniffles before silence.
You quietly crept on your merry way to the bathroom and back to your room because you were fearful of her slamming her door open and spotting you.
The night before last, Rose had snuck up behind you while you were drawing a comic that you started not too long ago and uploaded to a random forum to inquire about the sudden decrease in alcohol in your mother's liquor cabinet.
"Why would I know anything about that?" You asked her befuddled.
As you're aware, your mother's liquor cabinet always remains locked when she's not at home.
She has a special key made for it that's hard to replicate, as well as a security system pin pad that was installed in Roxy's first year of high school.
You have no clue where your mother hides the key or the bypass code, and you are not interested in knowing since you are literally 12 years old.
The look that Rose gave you can only be described as exasperated and miffed.
"I a-sum-ed," she pronounced, emphasizing each syllable, which was totally unnecessary. "That I wasn't the only one to have noticed a particular change within our home and was concerned by the recent turn of events; however, sadly, I appear to be mistaken, so I'll leave you to your devices as I ponder how to prepare for a possible shitstorm, as you like to say, that may arise from it."
She then turned on her heels, storming out of your room and slamming the door in clear annoyance before you could make sense of what she said.
Ugh.
Why does Rose have to be so damn passive-aggressive?
Thank the stars that you're not like that—you're absolutely like that, but in a more avoidant, repress everything until you blow up kind of way.
You were confused by Rose's words at the time. Yet right now, as you're sipping on your cup of AJ, you wonder if she was referring to Dirk's absence and Roxy's change in demeanor.
She totes as balls were referencing them.
Hurry the hell up and catch up with the program, Dave.
As you place your cup down, you suspect Dirk may have hurt your eldest sister, which would explain his sudden disappearance from your life and her new attitude.
Crap.
You pray for that not to be the case.
Your sister Roxy is the most sincere and genuine gal known in these parts. Her kindness and compassion shine through in everything she does, earning her the local reputation as the ultimate sweetheart among friends, parents, and acquaintances.
Anyone who hurts her is the literal embodiment of trash in your eyes.
If Dirk ever did something to break Roxy's heart, not only would you never forgive the guy, but it would mortal-kombat-finish-him-style tear your heart out, considering how close the two of you had gotten as of late compared to your initial meeting.
Your brow furrows as you start paying closer attention to your elder sister.
You watch as she absentmindedly wipes down the already spotless countertop, her movements slow and deliberate. Her usually bright eyes are clouded, and a slight tremor tugs at the edge of her lips, making it appear she is deep in thought.
Concerned, you debate whether to ask Roxy how she's been lately, but Rose beats you to the punch.
"So, Roxy," Rose began, "Were you ever able to decide upon the thesis for your research paper for your environmental science course that you complained about earlier this week?"
Roxy's posture and demeanor changed instantly at the mention of her name and question.
In an instant, she sat up straighter, her eyes brightening, her lips curving into a genuine – Scratch that - smile. Her demeanor starkly contrasts her distant and contemplative expression just seconds ago.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, setting aside the rag to give her full attention. "Why, yes, Ro," she replied cheerfully. I'm almost done with it, in fact."
Your twin nods across the table from you. "That's good," she replied between bites of her omelet. "I was curious about how it was coming along and how you were fairing mentally, considering that you appeared extremely overwhelmed this past Monday."
A soft look spread across Roxy's face.
"Aww, thanks for checking in, Rosie." She chuckled softly. "Yes, I was stressed about that uber-dumb paper, but thankfully, I received a bit of help and was able to brainstorm some great ideas. No need to worry. I've got that paper in the bag like a man with little to no experience being promoted over a hardworking mother of five who's been at the company for too long."
You don't know if there's such a thing as twin-telepathy, transference, or whatever weird esp. communication that forms between two siblings that developed from separate fertilized eggs, but you are goddamn positive that you heard a – Got Her – escape from Rose without her ever opening her mouth.
"I'm assuming Dirk already had a plethora of environmental projects and studies backed up on a hard drive to assist you on your assignment?" Rose inquired, an amused tone hanging off the edge of her voice.
A flinch.
While she may have tried to hide it, Roxy was unable to mask a notable flinch. This action raised both Rose's and your eyebrows, making Rose even more curious and wanting to dig deeper into whatever Roxy was keeping hidden from the two of you.
Roxy shifted in place.
"Um, no," she replied vaguely, her tone hesitant. "Dirk's been busy with work, so I got help from Janey instead."
"Ah, my mistake," Rose remarked, her voice apologetic. Faker. "I assumed that Dirk was of some assistance as he's usually the one you go to when you need aid with coursework."
Damn, Rose, could you be even more fuckingobvious in your line of questioning?
Roxy's smile falters slightly, "That's, uh, true, " she began. "But...not this time."
"Did something happen between Dirk and you?" Rose replied, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
Come on now.
Be more subtle, Rose.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
Then and there, Roxy's smile faltered slightly, her eyes flickering with discomfort. She shifted in place, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.
"W-what makes you say that?" Roxy started; her expression momentarily guarded before she once again forced a smile.
"Well," Rose set her fork down, leaning forward slightly. "You two were once the epitome of inseparability, and now Dirk's just...gone. He used to visit us almost daily. His presence was as regular as clockwork, if I do say. Yet, as of late, his visits have become conspicuously infrequent. The energy of the household seems…. Altered. No texts, no visits. I can't help but wonder what might have caused such a noticeable change in his routine."
Silence.
Complete and utter deafening silence.
The type of absence of sound that made one want to claw at their skin and rip their hair out.
Roxy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked directly at Rose.
"I appreciate your curiosity," Roxy began carefully, her voice measured – Uh oh - "but I'd rather not talk about it right now."
Rose's brow furrowed slightly at Roxy's response. "And why may that be? – Rose, shut up! – Do you not trust us?"
If you could describe your older sister's expression, it would be a mix of frustration and patience: "Trust has nothing to do with it, Rose." Roxy said.
Despite the smile plastered on her face, the corners of Roxy's mouth twitched with what you can only interpret as annoyance, betraying her true feelings.
Abort mission, Rose.
Abort, abort, abort.
You make an absolute show of clearing your throat a bit louder than necessary to draw your younger sister's gaze, but Rose either doesn't catch on to your warning signal or decides to ignore you as she presses on.
"If trust isn't in the equation, Rox', then what is-"
"Rose."
Roxy's face was a storm of frustration.
"I need you to understand something," she said sternly. "You need to respect people's boundaries – oh shit - Sometimes, things are personal, and it's not fair to push for answers when someone isn't ready to share. I know you care, and I appreciate that, but you need to quit when you're ahead sometimes."
Rose blinked, taken aback by Roxy's serious demeanor. It's rare for your older sister to display anger or raise her voice at the two of you.
You debate, sneaking out of the room and quietly going upstairs to your bedroom, considering all the tension in the air. However, you're afraid of drawing attention to yourself, so you remain seated.
Flushed with embarrassment, Rose tries to save face. "I-I," Rose floundered. "I didn't mean to pry. I was concerned, is all. It's not like you t- "
"Rose," Rox continued, not allowing your twin to finish her sentence. "I'm the adult in this house, especially when our mom is absent. -Not the adult card. Yup, she's pissed -Which means that you must listen to me. Remember, everyone has their way of dealing with things. Give them space, and they'll open up when they're ready.
Rose's eyes become downcast.
She lowers her head to hide her face in mortification at receiving a lecture so early in the morning. "Okay, I'll try to be more mindful."
With a forced smile still plastered on, Roxy replies with a quick "good" and " thank you" before she abruptly storms out of the room, leaving her forgotten breakfast on the counter. Her footsteps are heavy and quick, reverberating through the house.
At the breakfast table, the once-comfortable atmosphere was now thick with awkwardness and discomfort. Rose sat rigidly in place, her posture stiff, and her eyes fixed on her plate, avoiding eye contact. Her fork moved mechanically, and she picked at her food without much enthusiasm.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, casting furtive glances at Rose and then quickly looking away.
Eventually, you're the one to break the heavy fog that hung over the table.
"Nice job," you remark. You try to keep the irritation in your voice at bay, but it's useless. "I hope it was worth it, seeing as your probing pushed Roxy to storm off."
Your twin snapped her head up at your chastising, the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed. "At least I try to do something and be involved while you sit there, silent and passive. You never communicate your thoughts or voice your opinion. It's like you don't even care about the well-being of others outside of yourself."
Oh.
Fucccckkkkkk off!
Your shoulders stiffen in defensiveness. "At least I respect people's boundaries," you hiss through your clenched jaw. "At least I don't try to play ‘therapist,’ pushing and probing people until they're uncomfortable, and I don't help just to make myself feel better or to look like a saint. Sometimes, it seems that you only get involved out of self-satisfaction, not because you genuinely care."
Rose's face went pale, her eyes widening in shock and hurt.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air as she found herself at a loss for words.
She then abruptly pushed her chair back, the screech of the wooden legs against the floor echoing. With a sharp breath, Rose stood up, her movements quick and tense. Gripping the remnants of her meal, she walked past you, not making eye contact. She left to head up to what you guess is her room as well, and the sudden bang of a door reverberated through the house.
Shit.
You're a goddamn asshole.
You remain sitting at the table. Everything that transpired within the last half hour hanging in the air, the impact settling heavily on you like a shitload of bricks.
You stare at your half-eaten breakfast, the guilt gnawing at you as you replay the harshness of your tone in his mind.
If you weren't so absorbed in your thoughts, you would hear the rain from outside beating on the house room change from gentle pitter patters to a full-blown thunderstorm.
What a shitty start to a Saturday morning.
"'ey, that's some impressive mixing you're doing there, kid."
A soft afternoon glow filters through the curtains, lighting your room's unique mix of furniture and decor.
On one side of the room, a well-worn desk is cluttered with art supplies, drawings, and your latest entomology collection that you've still yet to decide where to mount it on your littered baby blue walls, filled with ironic movie posters and other dead or dried insect collections. A sketchpad lays wide open for anyone who dares to pry, alongside various paint tubes, brushes, and colored pencils. Across the room, a bookshelf crammed with graphic novels, whose side is littered with random graphic stickers, stands tall in the right corner, near the red and cozy bean bag chair. To the far left, your closet door is propped open by your tripod camera stand, showcasing the mountain cluster-fuck of clothes, jackets, shoes, you-name-it that you have jammed pack in there, stuffed like a wild turkey on Thanksgiving.
The room is alive with the rhythmic pulse of music.
At the center, surrounded by a maze of wires connecting to a set of speakers, you sit hunched over your DJ board, experimenting with the controls to create new sick and twisted beats as your fingers deftly move across them.
You're in a state of complete and total concentration. You are disgustingly engrossed in the mixtures of scratches and trembles that escape from the enormous, over-ear headphones on your head as your fingertips dance over the aux and equalizer with practiced ease.
You're so absorbed in the flami'yo hot beats that you were cooking up that you failed to hear the gentle knock or familiar annoying creak of your bedroom door, letting you know of additional presence in your room.
It's not until you hear the sound of a throat softly clearing and a rigid-chill but warm voice with a slight southern twang that you've come to know far too well now speak up from behind you that you snap out of your zone.
You look up to turn towards him, a bit surprised but pleased, and turn the volume down on the mixer.
"Sup, bro! I didn't hear you come in. If you keep creeping up on folks, we might need to start attaching a bell to you like a cat. I don't want your face plastered on the Channel 5 news station for causing old ladies' hearts to give out from your natural sleuth abilities."
Dirk's eyes light up with what you assume to be mirth. "Oh, nooo, we wouldn't want that," he smirked. "I'm too delicate and pretty to go to the big house. All the big bad boys in there would eat me alive and make sure to leave just enough for desserts."
For some reason, Dirk's jokingly playful statement warms your face, and an uncomfortable weight settles in the pit of your stomach.
You attempt to shrug it off with a snort and a roll of your eyes hidden behind your shades.
"Please," you answer. "No one wants your skinny chicken-legged body. What meal?! You can barely be described as an appetizer with how lean those muscles are, bro. You might want to cut back on the bench presses and dietary supplements before a gust of wind blows you away."
One thing you appreciated about Dirk's blossoming relationship with you since the racing competition is that you now have someone with whom you can engage in playful banter.
You valued the playful banter you shared with him more than you could describe.
With most people, you felt the need to be cautious, afraid your jokes might be misunderstood or your teasing taken too seriously. You can't engage in lighthearted teasing with your sisters or Jade, and John had his boundaries -respect - But with Dirk, it was different.
It's as if you had an unspoken understanding of one another.
A mutual trust that allowed the two of you to exchange jests and quips without fear of offending each other.
You've yet to experience this level of comfort and ease with someone else, making these moments of banter all the more valuable and memorable.
Instead of replying to your bait, Dirk comes closer, wrapping an arm loosely around your neck in an affectionate headlock that causes your headphones to topple over and plummet to the floor. You squirm, twisting in every direction, but Dirk easily maintains his grip with his muscular triceps. Your attempts to break free are a failure as his gentle hold on you remains everchanging. All you can do is flail as a deep and loud rumble escapes from his chest and pounds in your ear.
"Come on, man! Let me go!" you protest, half-laughing, half-serious.
You'd never allow yourself to be manhandled like this by anyone else. You try to maintain an image of yourself to your loved ones and peers, but for some reason, you note, Dirk has been able to chip away at particular parts of your exterior the last couple of months, and you've found yourself easing up when it comes to your specific quirks and boundaries.
You hope this recent change in attitude isn't noticeable, as you'll never hear the end of it from your twin and friends, who've been trying to get you to "loosen up" for the longest time now.
"Not until you admit I'm pretty and the most undeniably handsome guy you know in the tri-state area," Dirk teases, his tone full of playful authority.
"Gross, dude!" You shout, still laughing.
The lighthearted tussle between you lasts a couple more seconds before you decide to cave in and concede to Dirk's request.
Satisfied, Dirk releases you, but not before reaching out to ruffle your hair vigorously.
You swat at his hand, but it's too late—your hair is now even more tousled than before.
"Dude, that's not cool! Watch the hair!" you protest, trying to smooth it down with your hands.
Dirk could care less about your dramatics based on his chuckles – dickhead.
"Ya look like a rock star," he says, flashing a grin.
You roll your eyes at his words but can't repress the smile that's taken over your face.
"Rockstars are so yesterday. Catch up with the program, bro. It's all about indie artists these days."
"Yeah? Keep telling yourself that, little man," Dirk replies, smirking. He then shifts his focus past you and raises his left hand to point at your DJ mixing board. "What are you working on?"
Your attention is brought back to the task you were doing before Dirk had so rudely interrupted you earlier.
You grab your headphones off the floor and put them back on your head before returning to your DJ board.
"Nothin' much," you reply causally. "I'm creating a simple mix."
That's a bald-faced lie.
It wasn't a simple mix.
It was a special mix... for John, whose birthday was still a few months away, but you'd gotten a head start as this mix had to be perfect.
John was your best friend.
And as someone who adorned the medal of honor as your best of besties, he deserved the grandest of the finest material, especially manifested from your masterful palms.
You adored John.
His silly antics and goofy charm never failed to brighten your day, whether it was his hilarious impressions that left you in stitches or his mischievous pranks.
This week, he managed to swap out Jade's morning hot cocoa with chai. God. The pranking chaos that unfolded between the two from there afterward throughout the week was beautiful and glorious in its mayhem. Jade gained the upper hand when she managed to swap out all John's furniture with identical inflatable replicas with the assistance and permission of dear old Mr. Egbert. Oh. The betrayal on John's face was brilliant, and the pout he adorned was adorable.
Moments such as those made you wonder how lucky you are to have him in your life. John's ability to find joy in the most minor things since the two of you were snotty brats and his infectious laughter served as an everyday reminder of why you can't help but love the guy.
Not that kind of love, though.
No, no, no, no. Your feelings for John are exclusively platonic. No more platonic than two dudes being bros can be in every shape and form.
You're not gay.
Or, in legal terms, "homosexual," as your sex education teacher described when she taught your class, the different kinds of attraction that can arise between people.
You briefly recall the few hisses and whispers your classmates shared during the lecture as if the word itself was taboo, and they were afraid of being overheard mentioning it.
Unlike your classmates, you didn't see what the big deal was about being attracted to the same gender as yourself. Being gay sounded pretty coolio if you do say yourself.
What's wrong with two bros being more than bros?
But you're not gay.
Or bisexual.
Or any of the other terms your teacher had projected on the screen.
Nope.
You were 100 percent het-ero-sexual.
You've had crushes on girls since you were in third grade- Jade being one of them, as Rose liked to tease you about now and again.
John was strictly a friend.
A friend.
Nothing more and nothing else.
Your totally-not-gay panic thoughts come to a halt when you note a shadow falling over you.
Dirk lets out an appreciative whistle when he gets a good look at your DJ mixer. "Old school, huh? You've got some taste."
He carefully reaches over your shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing your arm as he adjusts and fiddles with the pan dial. There's a faint smell casting from him that you can't help but notice now as he's up in your personal space, and you're not fighting for your life now.
"I used to be really into electronic music back in high school," he said. I did a lot of experimenting not only with DJ boards but also with a couple of turntables. Back in my old hometown, word got around, and eventually, a few of my classmates came up to me requesting if I'd play at their birthday celebrations or backyard pool parties."
You try to concentrate on Dirk's words, but you're distracted by the scent radiating off him and washing over you in waves.
The scent is sweet with a bit of spice.
You're having trouble identifying it, but you can feel it at the tip of your tongue as you lean your head and turn your head slightly so as not to raise suspicions—suspicions? What do you have to be suspicious of? You're not doing anything wrong—and take a soft inhale of whatever cologne or soap is clinging to Dirk's skin.
It's cinnamon.
The smell emitting from Dirk was cinnamon.
"- I'd be happy to walk you through it." Dirk finishes, his breath hovering just beside your ear.
You jolt in your seat in response to the proximity that feels weirdly intimate and as if you were caught doing something inappropriate. But you weren't doing anything improper. What's the harm of a few sniffs of musk shared between men?
"W-what?" You stumble, glancing up at him. Shit. You hope your shades are aiding in concealing the ocean wave of embarrassment and mortification that has swallowed you whole. "Can you repeat that, bro?"
As you stare up at Dirk, his face remains flat, but a single eyebrow raised behind his shades tells you all you need to know. He's confused by your jumpiness and stumbling over your words.
Maybe you wouldn't be so jumpy if he knew a thing or two about personal space, especially when he looks like he walked right off the page of a men's illustration catalog.
A warning sign should hover above him, as being near the man could instill early body insecurity in any kid.
There's a notable pause between the two of you, during which you pray to a god you don't believe in Dirk shrugs off your jumpiness as weird teen behavior he can no longer relate to.
It appears he chooses to go that route as he makes a subtle shrug of his shoulders and begins to repeat what you missed earlier – Thank fuck.
"I said, I'd be happy to walk you through a few tricks to grasp the sounds from this mixing board better." He said this and then returned his focus to fiddling with the controls.
"Seriously?" You asked, surprised.
Dirk nods his head in confirmation. "Of course. I can help you out with this. I've spent a lot of time mixing tracks, and I'd love to teach you a thing or two about creating sounds."
A mixture of emotions arises within you that are hard to decipher based on Dirk's words. Some part of you felt offended because, excuse me, does he think you're an amateur and that you have no skills? Prick. Then, there's a part of you filled with curiosity and excitement at the possibilities of what Dirk can teach you and learn more about the guy. Lastly, there's a part of you that's… flattered? Honored? Pleased at Dirk's willingness to show you the ropes, no questions asked, and it has nothing to do with his relationship with your sister?
Huh.
You wonder if Rose would have something to say about your recent attachment to Dirk.
She may have concerns about it, stating that attaching oneself to any male role model that comes across due to the absence of one in your childhood can sometimes lead to adverse outcomes if boundaries are not set.
Eh.
Let's not think about it too hard.
"Sure, bro." You reply. "That would be awesome."
You watch as Dirk's shoulders fall in what you can assume is relief.
He nods, and a smirk appears on his face. "Alright then. Let's start with the basics, and I'll show you some techniques to blend the sounds smoothly and add depth to your tracks."
With that, Dirk pulls up your desk chair beside you, ready to share his expertise and passion for music.
The two of you lose track of time.
It's not until Roxy comes knocking at your door and whining about how Dirk could be so cruel and abandon her when they were in the middle of baking for Jane's housewarming party that the two of you notice that the sun has started to set.
"Ah, shit. My bad, Ro'" Dirk chuckled. "Didn't meant to leave ya' all alone with the baked goods."
As Dirk and Roxy engaged in playful bickering, you couldn't help but marvel at how the warm light emitting from your blinds accentuated Dirk's features, making him appear almost majestically beautiful.
That memory was three months ago; you reminisce as you sit hunched over your DJ mix board with the soft glow of LED lights casting a colorful haze over your face.
Your fingers move absentmindedly over the controls, hovering but never touching, as you've finally laid the last beat of your masterpiece and blended tracks to the mix you created for John's birthday, which is less than a month away.
There's the familiar spark of joy and relief that fills you every time you complete a task that's of the utmost importance, but this time, you note that something is missing.
Every so often, you glance at your door, lying shut, hoping, just hoping, that maybe you'll hear the familiar sound of leather rap at your door and catch a glimpse of light brown with streaks of golden blonde hair.
Damn, you miss Dirk.
Now that you've finished the music piece that the two of you used to spend hours on, the absence of his presence in your life is a heavy, palpable void.
There was a small part of you that held onto the hope that whatever was going on between Roxy and him would resolve soon so you could show off the final version of the mix you created to him; yet, sadly, this appeared not to be the case as another week has passed seeing hide nor hair from him around the Lalonde household.
Roxy continues to be tight-lipped about Dirk and agitated about something whenever you catch a glimpse of her from your peripheral vision.
You briefly wish you and the dude had exchanged numbers so you could show off your work to him, thank him for the advice despite giving him a hard time, and say a final goodbye.
A light chuckle escapes your lips as you recall the debate between you two on whether classic vinyl scratching vinyl or modern digital mixing was better.
You miss the way he'd playfully tease you about your perfectionism and how you'd playfully nudge his shoulder when he got too lost in the details when teaching. His weird, infectious laughter, insightful suggestions, and energy are all things you can't shake no matter how hard you try.
Dirk became such a significant part of your stereotypical everyday life that you can't help but miss the presence he left behind.
You sigh.
There's no point in moping.
You must accept that he's no longer part of your life now that he and Roxy have fallen out.
Like a comet streaking across the night sky, Dirk's presence in your life was brief, but he left an undeniable mark you'll recall faintly long after his departure.
Not one to sit and mull over your emotions too long, you decide to head downstairs and rummage in the freezer for any frozen treats, as sweets have always been a delightful distraction.
As you step into the dimly lit hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, the sudden, sharp ring of the house phone pierces the silence, echoing off the walls and making you stop in your tracks.
You dismiss the house phone's rings as likely a scam or a business call for your mother – which you are never to answer -but when it rings a third time as you make your way downstairs, peculiarity makes you reconsider, as it's not often that your household receives calls – the house phone was more for formality sakes - and you realize that the persistence ringing might be of actual importance.
As you trudge back upstairs along the hardwood stairs, the sharp trill of the phone ringing a fourth time is interrupted as you pick it up.
"Hello?"
When you answer, there's a brief pause before a familiar voice responds, slightly hesitant. "Hey, Dave. It's Dirk. Long time no talk."
You nearly drop the phone in shock at the voice on the other end.
"D… D-Dirk?"
"Yeah. It's me, kid," He replies.
Holy Shit.
You can't believe that you're talking to Dirk right now.
It's been almost two months since you've heard his voice.
You've almost forgotten how deep, low, and smooth it is.
There's an awkward silence, filled only by the distant hum of cars passing as you struggle to find the right words. Your mind races to update Dirk on everything that's happened since his sudden disappearance. Hey, man! What perfect timing! I just finished that musical piece we were working on a while back. Sounds absolutely phenomenal, bro. So phenomenal, in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if, in the next few minutes, V-Trak randomly appeared and started banging on the front door with a record deal freshly printed, with a bullet-pointed pen, for me to sign. Yeah. You recall it, right? I hope you remember despite your sudden absence as of late. What's up with that, by the way? Did you hurt my sister or something? Are there other things in your life that are more pressing that you couldn't let a guy know you'd be gone for a while? Not cool, dude. Where did you go? Why did you leave without saying anything?
"So, um, what's up?" Dirk finally asks, trying to sound casual, but you can hear the strain in his voice.
Dirk's question ends up breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts.
"I've been good, just...busy with school and life, you know?" You say, voice slightly faltering
Play it cool, Dave.
You bite the inner part of your cheek as you hold back from wanting to ask Dirk the endless questions rushing to the forefront of your mind.
You fear that if you do, you'll be pushing too hard as Rose did to Rox' and your nosiness might result in him rushing off the phone, ending the fragile reconnection.
The fact of not hearing from him again terrifies you.
You don't understand why you're so scared.
"So, what's new with you?" You ask, opting for a safer topic, hoping to keep him on the line longer.
"Not much. I'm just trying to keep up with everything," Dirk replies, his voice a bit more relaxed now. A faint rustling can be heard across the other line. "I actually called because I wanted to know…" He trails off.
Confusion settles in at the sudden trailing off.
"Because you wanted to know?" You repeat, almost tentatively, as you press the phone closer to your ear.
It was at that moment that Roxy decided to step out of her room near the end of the hallway and spot you talking on the landline.
You hear the obnoxious sound of clearing of the throat. "I wanted to know if Roxy's there?"
Dirk's voice comes out breathless and tense.
Roxy walks up and places a hand on your shoulder, head tilted, curious to know who you're talking to on the phone.
"Who is it, Dave?" she asks softly, perhaps to avoid intruding on a private conversation.
Quickly, you place a hand over the mouth speaker to not let Dirk know that there are two people across the line and that the other person was the exact one he was asking for was literally 2 feet away.
"It's Dirk." You respond with a flat voice and little emotion.
Roxy tenses, the hand on your shoulder flinches, startled by the reveal of Dirk calling as you are conversing with him.
"He's asking about your whereabouts."
Roxy panics.
Immediately, she takes a few steps back and begins to wave her arms frantically above her chest in a crossing motion.
"Tell him I'm not here," She whispers harshly.
You pause for a moment, taking everything in before you nod to Rox in confirmation and remove your hand from the mouthpiece.
"Sorry, bro, She's not here." You reply, praying your voice sounds as calm as it was earlier.
"She's not there?" Dirk repeats.
"Yeeeppp." You remark, with a pop at the end. "She went out to grab a couple of groceries for the house not too long ago. I don't know when she'll be back."
There is silence on the other end, which causes the hair on your arms to stand on end before you hear a quiet sigh.
"Look. Dave." Dirk starts. He sounds strained, as if he's pinching the bridge of his nose and not breathing correctly. "I need a favor from you. When Roxy returns, can you ask her to call me back? I know she's avoiding my calls and messages, maybe even has my number blocked, but it was never my intention to – I didn't mean to lead – Fuck. I never know what to say regarding these types of situations."
Woah.
You never imagined you'd ever hear Dirk sound so desperate and painful.
"Just… Just tell Roxy I care about her more than she probably knows. She means so much to me, and our friendship is incredibly important. But... I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt her nor for her to find out that way, but I had assumed she already – Never mind. That's not important. Simply, I'm sorry that it had to be this way, and I hope this doesn't change anything between us. I still want her in my life, more than anything."
Your confusion deepens as you try to sift through Dirk's vague apology and piece together the underlying meaning of what he could be apologizing for. He did hurt your sister, but it doesn't sound like it was intentional, nor was it your stereotypical fight between friends.
What could it be?
"Yeah, dude," You agree, a slight pause following her words. "No problem. I can make sure to let her know."
Dirk inhales sharply, "Thanks, little man. I appreciate it."
You both utter soft goodbyes to one another before you hear the familiar click of the sound of the call ending on the other line.
You place the phone back on its receiver and stare at it for some time.
Standing beside you, Roxy shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet, her hands wringing in excessive nervousness.
"What did he say?" She hisses in restlessness at your quietness.
You repeat the words Dirk spoke to you on the phone call back to her.
The following silence is thick and heavy, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, you hear the small sounds of hiccups from behind you. You look up and come face to face with tears trickling down your older sister's face. Her face flushes red as her throat constricts, her mouth pinched, and her breathing labored.
For a moment, it appears as if she wants to say something, anything, desperately, but nothing comes out. Instead, she turns away from you and rushes back to her room, forgetting what she originally came out for as her mind is preoccupied with something else.
Damn.
You shouldn't have to be dealing with any of this bullcrap.
You're only 12 years old, for Pete's sake.
Nighttime doesn't fare any better as you are jolted awake in the middle of the night by a muffled, distressing sound.
As you groggily sit up and rub your eyes, you realize the painful noises are outside your bedroom. The quiet of the house amplifies the sound of loud retching and sobbing. Your heart sinks as you recognize the sound of your sister's wails.
You quickly get out of bed and open the door to make your way to the bathroom, your feet moving almost instinctively on the cold floor.
The door is wide open, the harsh light from the bathroom spilling into the dark hallway, casting long shadows.
When you make it to the entrance of the bathroom doorway, you see her, your sister, hunched over the toilet, hair a tangled mess, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state tugs at your heartstrings.
Christ, of all the nights, Rose decided to have her annual sleepover at Jade's.
You spot the empty bottles of your mother's favorite alcohol on the counter and at her feet and can't help but watch the toll that the alcohol has taken on her, her body trembling with each heave.
"I'm so sorry," Roxy cries out, her voice hoarse and broken.
Her cries end up snapping you out of your trance and rushing to her side. "Hey, hey, it's okay," you say, trying to soothe her as you kneel beside her. You got to be shitting. What the hell, Rox?! You gently pull her hair back and out of her face.
She glances at you with bloodshot eyes, her expression a mix of embarrassment and relief.
"Ohhh, Dave," she whines, her voice hoarse and broken. "D…did I w-wake you up?"
"Shh, don't worry about that now," you reply, your tone firm. You grab a washcloth, wet it with cool water, and gently dab her forehead and cheeks.
Roxy looks up at you while you attempt to wipe the residue of vomit off her face, eyes red and swollen. She then takes a shuddering breath.
"I'm such a jerk," she slurs, her words thick with emotion and alcohol. "I... I'm hurting Dirk, and it's not fair to him. B-But I can't…. I can't."
At the mention of Dirk's name, you become frustrated. You're sick of the nonsense. Hear you are, at some fuck-ass time before the crack of the dawn, cleaning your sister's vomit as she spirals for some godforsaken-fuckin-rat's-ass reason over some lean but muscular dweeb who wears the dumbest pairs of shades created by humanity.
"Hey," you say, your voice hardened. "What's going on between Dirk and you?"
Roxy swallows hard, making pathetic attempts to knock your hands away from her face. "D-Stri and I are fine..." she slurs. "We're golly-good and alllllll that hunky-dory nonsense… we… we're so good that –"
"Cut the bullshit, Rox'" Man, you hope she doesn't remember you cursing at her in the morning. "It's clear as the sky is blue that something happened between Dirk and you, considering his phone call to the house earlier today and your strange behavior lately. Rose and I can barely mention the guy before you start acting like a chicken with his head cut off. He hasn't been around in two months, so I apologize for not believing the whole ‘we're all Gucci’ bs routine you're trying to sell. Which, by the way, no one is buying tickets for."
You don't realize the whole time your voice is raised as Roxy stares at you wide-eyed, in shock at your choice of words towards her as you've never spoken like that to her before.
But can anyone blame you? Try getting woken up out of your sleep in the middle of the night to take care of your drunk sibling crying about some guy.
There's a brief pause before Roxy hiccups drunkenly as she attempts to elaborate.
"Davey," she begins. Dirk...…. I messed up so bad. We had this stupid fight, or I got ridiculously angry at him and said things I didn't mean. He did nothing wrong. I couldn't handle finding out. Yet now… If I think about it, it was so obvious! I…. I feel so dumb. I don't understand how he would want anything to do with me after I caused such a fuss."
Okay, that was a lot of information and a whole lot of nothing. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that Roxy is finally opening up to someone about what's been bothering her these past weeks.
"Why don't you apologize?" you inquire as you attempt to lift her and guide her back to her room. Shit, you need to start lifting, too, because this is not as easy as it looks in the movies.
Roxy stumbles a bit at you, pulling her, but she manages not to tumble over, dragging you down with her back to the tiled floor beneath. She shakes her head vehemently, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But what if he doesn't forgive me? What if I've lost him for good?"
You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. Wow, are you really about to give your older sister advice? Who's the adult and the child again in this scenario?
"Based on his call from earlier, I can't imagine that happening. Also, how can you say that when you haven't even tried? Apologize, show him that you mean it. But first, let's get you through tonight, yeah?" You remark.
Roxy nods slowly, her sobs gradually subsiding. The two of you waddle like a horde of Antarctic penguins past the bathroom door and into the hallway. Eventually, you reach her bedroom and guide her to her bed.
She makes little to no protests as you tuck her into bed, making sure she's on her side and has a glass of water at her bedside.
Before leaving, you sit with her for a while, holding her hand and reassuring her that she's not alone.
As she drifts off, a million thoughts run through your mind, none of them bringing you peace of mind.
All you hope for tomorrow is some sense of normalcy back in your life because there is no way you are about to play therapist for your older sister.
That's Rose's job.
The next day, nothing extraordinary happens that hints at the night before. You cleaned up what little remained of Roxy's "escapades" last night and hid the bottles in the garage away from sight. Roxy walks around with her head down, tired but composed, as if trying to mask the remnants of last night's drunken emotional turmoil.
The two of you make small talk about mundane topics: plans for the day, a funny video you saw online, and the latest reality gossip. There's an unspoken agreement between you two to avoid the topic of last night, the emotional rawness still too close for comfort.
The house remains quiet for much of the day until Rose returns from her night at Harley's household. Immediately, Rose knows something's amiss when she walks through the doors, but you do not falter under her endless poking and probing for answers.
You know that eventually, a conversation will need to be had, especially if Roxy's drunken nights continue, but for now, you're content to let her have her space and reflect on the words you exchanged last night.
That's if she remembers the conversation at all.
Days pass, John's birthday comes and goes, and as you expected, the dork was in absolute hysterics when he received your present for him, especially when he heard the addition of his favorite Matthew McConaughey and Nic Cage lines. What kind of bro would you be if you didn't add your best friend's questionable taste in films to his birthday mix?
John was so joyful with your gift-giving skills; the dude even wrapped his arms around in a friendly-platonic-fashion that made your stomach do summersaults that you were recently becoming familiar with. The award for best bro gift giver this year goes to - who else? - but Dave Lalonde. Yeah. That's right. However, John's appreciation of your present did not stop him from sneakily placing a Cake Me sign on the back of your hoodie. You realize John's prank too late when your hair and clothes become a chaotic mess of blue and yellow frosting.
What a little shithead.
Some days after John's party, Rose and you end up tagging along with Roxy to a pool party hosted by a new gal-pal she made a few weeks ago at college who lived in the town next over.
Roxy described her as a cool, radical, chill, adventurous chick, always seeking new thrills. Apparently, the hostess had a younger sister, and she didn't want her little sib feeling left out of the shenanigans while their parents were away on their anniversary; that's why the hostess extended the invitation for guests to bring their siblings as well – example a and b, your twin and you.
The sun is high, casting a warm, golden light over the backyard, not a cloud in sight. Laughter and water splashing fill the air as a few guests dive into the crystal-clear pool or lounge on the deck, sipping on cold drinks and chatting. The aroma of barbecue wafts from the grill, adding to the festive atmosphere.
As you sit at the pool's edge, soaking in the lively energy, for some strange reason you can't fathom, you feel like someone is standing behind you, watching you. You suddenly are cast in darkness as a looming shadow hovers over you.
When you make an effort to turn to make eye contact with the creep that's blocking your tanning session – that's a lie. You can't tan for shit. The amount of sunscreen you must put on to not be sunburned must be studied - you do a double take as you come face to face with someone you haven't seen in ages.
"How have you been, little man?" Dirk asks, standing with a drink in hand.
You try to calm the nervous excitement building up inside you when you recognize Dirk's face, not wanting to ruin your cool guy image, but you're positive that the grin that's taken over your face is a dead giveaway of your true feelings.
"Am I dreaming, or is that really you, bro?" you say, your grin widening.
Dirk's lips twitch on the left side at your question. "Yeah, it's me, kid. Don't wet your pants."
"Disgusting, dude. What's wrong with you?"
Dirk snorts in amusement before settling next to you, taking a sip from his drink. The two of you sit there for a moment, enjoying the sun and water nipping at your feet, before he turns to you with an easygoing grin.
"So, how are you liking the pool?" he asks, starting the conversation on a simple note.
As Dirk talks to you, you can't help but notice his sun-kissed blonde hair is tousled and damp, the telltale signs of a recent swim, and how his tan skin glistens under the harsh beams of the sun's light. Lean muscles are on full display as he's cladded in stylish black-and-orange swim trunks, embodying the perfect summer vitality and attractiveness image.
You feel a large lump form in the back of your throat.
You lean back and attempt to avoid as much eye contact as possible. "It's been good," you reply. "Just soaking up the sun and relaxing. How about you?"
"Not afraid of burning, huh?" He ignores your question and engages in light teasing, reaching out to lightly pinch at your shoulder. "We don't want anything happening to our little princess, do we?"
You smack his hands away in playful annoyance. "Pffttt. If anything, you're the princess; all you like to do is stand, look pretty, and bark orders."
Dirk snorts at your comeback. "Oh, yeah? And what does that make you? A knight in shining armor?"
You can't stop that laughter from erupting out of your chest. "Knight and shining armor!" you exclaim. "Hold on. Let me fill out my two weeks' notice because nowhere did my application contract say that I'll oversee an anime-nerd-loving primadonna."
The two of you engage in some playful fighting at the pool's end before you both pause to take in the atmosphere around you: the splashing of the pool, harmonious chitchat and laughter, and the repetitive thumping of the bass from the loudspeaker.
While making eye contact beneath your shades, you can no longer stop the words from tumbling out. "I've missed you, man," you say breathless.
The pool party is in full swing, but you can only notice the person sitting across from you. It's been ages since you've seen him, yet as you talk and laugh, it feels like no time has passed at all. The comfort of being together again is palpable. The routine is so familiar and so right that you wonder how you managed without it for so long.
Immediately, Dirk makes an odd face at your confession that's hard to decipher.
He shifts in his spot as if uncomfortably aware of the proximity between you two and debating whether or not to add some distance.
You can't imagine why he may feel uncomfortable by your closeness or words.
It's not like anything new is shared between the two of you.
…Right?
Crap.
Did you lose some major cool points by dumping your affection on him?
While you have a mini-panic episode in your head, Dirk reaches a lone hand to scratch at the back of his head. "I've missed ya too, lil' man," he finally replies, voice a little on edge.
You catch the faint sign of redness spreading across Dirk's cheeks to which you realize that your confession of sentimentality has left him flustered.
You feel the faint sensation of warmth tickle your cheeks, and you quickly turn your head to observe the other partygoers and a few kids as they mingle.
The calm atmosphere shared between you is soon interrupted by the familiar call of your name.
"Dave!" Roxy calls out, her arm waving as she walks towards you.
Besides her stood your twin sister Rose in her black and purple skirted one-piece swimsuit and a muscular but husky man with a darker complexion than Dirk's that you didn't recognize.
As the three of them stopped in front of you, you felt your whole-body tense because – shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. You don't know how your sister will react to being in Dirk's presence after so long.
"Dave," she says, a playful smile on her face, her eyes sparking with the excitement of the day, "When do you plan to eat? The food is amazingggg, you have to try it."
She held a half-eaten hot dog in her hand as she gushed about the food. You glance over at the buffet table behind them, laden with all sorts of delicious-looking dishes, and feel the slight rumbling of your stomach at the mention of food.
Before you can answer, your sister's attention shifts next to you, her gaze directed to Dirk.
"You should definitely try the food too, D-Stri!" she exclaims cheerfully. "It's incredible. We can't have you getting even more lean on us, can we?
Dirk shakes his head at Roxy in a light-hearted fashion. "God forbid if I don't want to stuff my face right before a swim, Roxx. S'okay. I'm alright with sipping on this bubbly orange pop for now."
Your eyes widen in surprise. Dirk and Roxy are chatting civilly. Here they are, close together, their body language relaxed, friendly, and engaging in polite conversation. Based on their interactions, no one would guess that these two people had a major falling out not too long ago. You assume that your older sister did recall your words from that night and decided to reach out when she was more level-headed.
You attempt to gain your twins' attention, but Rose's eyes remain glued to a girl around the same age across the pool wearing oversized glasses, long braids, and a yellow headband tied around the edges of her hair.
Come on, Rose. Does she know that girl from somewhere or something?
You're trying to engage in a twin telepathic conversation with her.
At that point, the strange man in a tacky faded green-and-white plaid shirt and green swim trunks made himself known.
"Now Dirk," He said. Oh, wow. Now, there's an accent you don't hear too often. "Miss Roxy here is correct. Caffeine is not a good source of consumption. You need more fatty foods and proteins in your diet if you want me to stop being able to lift you like a stack of books in a library."
From your peripheral, you see Dirk's expression become flat at the man's reprimand, his response a slight 'hmph' sound in reply to the man's criticism of Dirk's eating habits.
Roxy chuckles in amusement. "Thank you, Jakey," she smiles. "I appreciate your input. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've reminded Dirkie here that he needs to eat when he gets absorbed in one of his little projects."
Jake, or Jakey as your sister called him, threw a brilliant smile her way, showing off his pristine teeth with a gap in the middle.
His smile reminded you of John a little, except John's two front teeth were bucktooth, and he wore braces to correct the alignment of his teeth.
"Of course, Roxy," he beamed. "Let me know if this guy is ever giving you too much trouble. I'm positive that I can rally him up and rough him up a bit to help him get his act together anytime and anywhere."
Jake then walks over and places a large hand on Dirk's left shoulder. I
f you weren't paying close attention to the events unfolding before you, you would've missed how Dirk's hand flexes uneasily around the half-empty red cup of soda in his grip.
Roxy bellows out a laugh that nearly sounds forced by its sheer forcefulness. "Ohhh, I'm sure you can, Jake." As her laughter dies down, your eldest sister turns her attention back to you. "Come on, now. Why don't we all take a break and grab some food? The burgers and hot dogs are ready, and there are plenty of snacks and drinks, too!"
At this moment, your sister Rose decided to make her opinion and presence known again, her eyes finally torn away from the deep-bronzed girl from across the waters.
"You know," she began, her voice calm and measured. "I wouldn't mind taking a break and grabbing something to eat. This sun is quite intense, and the body and mind need sustenance and a chance to recover."
Roxy enthusiastically agrees with Rose. "Exactly!" she shouts, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "Now, let's find a table to sit at and indulge in some delicious grub!"
With that, Roxy turns around and heads towards the shaded picnic area, Rose trailing behind.
"Come, Dirk," Jake declares merrily, smacking Dirk casually across the back. "Let's not keep the ladies waiting for too long and not miss out on an excellent meal prepared for us."
Jake quickly notices you and inclines his head in recognition and courtesy before he, too, decides to tag along and follow your sisters to the buffet area.
The atmosphere shifts to a relaxed and quiet vibe before Dirk heaves a heavy sigh from his chest. He turns his gaze straight up at the sky as if asking the sky, "Why me?" before he, too, finally decides to get up, never once making eye contact with you.
"Let's go, little man." He says, weary. "We don't want to miss out on this real mean barbeque that was prepared."
"Uh," you utter, broken out of your stupor. "Um, yeah. Yes. I'm right behind you, man. Sure."
With that, you follow alongside Dirk and head towards the table, secretly grateful for the suggestion as you were starving. The smell of grilled burgers, hot dogs, and ribs hits your nose as you and everyone gather around the table and begin to load your plates with delicious food.
The sun shines brightly overhead, and the atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and splashing water. Everyone is having a great time, eating burgers, diving into the pool, and lounging on floats. After a while, Roxy speaks up again, eyes twinkling with mirth as she suggests a round of water volleyball. The teams are set, Roxy and Jake on one side and Dirk and you on the other end – Rose decided to sit the game out – making it the perfect setting for some friendly competition.
You and Dirk dive, splash, and jump, giving it your all with every hit and volley. There are moments of brilliant coordination and epic saves, punctuated by cheers and high-fives. Yet, despite your best efforts, Roxy and Jake seem to have a slight edge, making them admirable foes. Roxy makes a perfect spike in a pivotal moment, and the ball hits the water with a splash, sealing their victory. She and Jake whoop and holler in victory, grinning from ear to ear as they splash about the pool's deep end.
Despite the loss, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The game was exhilarating and fun. Your positive Dirk feels the same as he shakes his head with amused resignation at the other two antics. And that's another thing you can't help but note: since earlier, Dirk's been acting a bit off. While Dirk's usually calm and collected, he seems unusually quiet and flustered today.
He's more reserved than usual. During the game, he stayed on the fringe, and every time Jake got near him, he got visibly flustered, missing shots and avoiding his gaze.
There's a gnawing thought scratching at the back of your head that you cannot reach.
Later, when alone with your older sister, as you both take a break from the pool and sit in the lounge chair, watching Dirk and Jake engage in conversation across the cool water, curiosity gets the better of you.
"Hey, have you noticed Dirk acting strange today?" you ask quietly, glancing over at Dirk, who appears to be nervously chatting with Jake if the consistent biting of his lip is a tell.
Roxy follows your gaze, her expression unreadable. "Yeah, I noticed," her tone flat. "He's been acting like that around Jakey there all day."
"What's up with that?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
Roxy chuckles softly, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "He's got a crush on him."
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.
Dirk likes Jake?
Dirk likes Jake!
You hesitate, looking around to make sure no one else is listening. "Dirk's gay?"
Roxy nods, her expression sincere. "Yes," she states. "Dirk likes men, and he has a huge mega-fat-ultra gay crush on Jake. He's had one for a while now. He told me weeks back, or rather I found out when – well, it doesn't matter. Jake doesn't know, and Dirk hasn't confessed to him yet."
You blink in surprise, the information taking a moment to sink in. "Really? I had no idea."
Roxy smiles, her eyes soft with empathy. "Yeah, he doesn't like to label himself or make it a big deal, but I think he's starting to feel more comfortable with himself."
You watch as a range of emotions flash across Roxy's face. She then shakes her head and lets out an exhale.
"I'm going to head to the restroom really quick," she states. "Be right back. Don't let anyone steal my chair, Dave."
Roxy leaves and makes haste to the screen door of the household to find the restroom inside.
"Well, that makes a ton of sense now," Rose announces her presence, startling you from behind.
"Fuck! Shit! Goddamnit Rose!" You shout at her. "You can't be sneaking up on a guy like that! Almost gave me an early heart attack!"
Rose ignores your dramatics and instead focuses on the two men on the other side of the pool. She makes a soft hmm in reflection before she, too, voices that she'll be heading inside to change out of her swimsuit and back into her normal clothes.
You're left alone in the backyard to watch Dirk and Jake converse across the pool, feeling a heavy weight sit on your stomach.
Dirk has a crush on Jake.
Dirk likes men.
Dirk is gay.
You don't know why, but this revelation shakes you to your core.
Not in disgust, but something else. Something you're afraid to confront.
As you watch the two men chat, your chest tightens, and your breathing deepens. Anxiety floods your system as this news has unlocked a door you were not yet ready to open.
There's a moment when Jake appears to say something funny, and you see Dirk's face light up with a radiant smile. There's a softness in his expression as he looks at Jake, a mixture of admiration and happiness.
You can't help but be reminded how pretty you find Dirk.
You're 12 years old when you discover that Dirk Strider is gay.