Do You Feel Us Falling? (Dave Strider x Reader)

Chapter 23

Dave's POV

After three weeks of losing (Y/N), I had finally arrived at my new home. You'd think this would be a life changing experience, but it wasn't really. I didn't care anymore. (Y/N) is gone; nothing else really matters.

I carried a stack of boxes in from Dirk's extremely packed truck and set them inside the door. The apartment was a bit dusty, and only made the gloom worse.

I decided to explore a bit. Dirk had said it was bigger than our apartment- he had taken a tour virtually with the sales lady over Skype.

The door opened into a living room that had a nice open concept into the kitchen. In front of me was a longish hallway, but had a door on each wall and an extra on the right. The left was a decently sized bedroom that smelled like cat piss. The next was another bedroom, but this one didn't smell. This one had a window that faced the north end of the city. The first door on the right wall had a bathroom with a double sink, but was painted yellow. Finally, the last door opened into another this bedroom. This one was the most unique. The white carpet was soft beneath your feet, and the walls were painted (f/c- black is fine guys ;)). In the corner was a large, wooden art desk that reminded me painfully of her. I declared it as (Y/N)'s, and told Dirk that it would be the guest bedroom, due to the fact that it also had an attached bathroom. He agreed, taking the one that smelled like cat piss, and claimed that he couldn't smell anything. Pish.

"So, how is (Y/N) doing?" Dirk asked me as we ate Chinese takeout on the tiled kitchen floor.

"I- uh..." I shoved my fork in the box and set the white container on the tile. "I kinda messed up," I confessed. I hadn't told Dirk yet, but he knew something had happened.

He waited for me to continue.

"Somehow she found out about that..." I didn't want to bring it up, but I swallowed my fear. "About my issues two years ago and we fought and I kinda said goodbye. Her phone was deactivated."

"I know, Dave."

I looked up at him. He had taken off of his shades, and his orange eyes were bloodshot.

"I wanted to hear it from you, though. We no longer pay for her phone," he added more quietly.

I nodded, acknowledging him.

"You know, you'll be going to school next Monday," Dirk said, changing the subject.

"I don't wanna go," I growled.

Dirk shook his head. "You have to. I can't homeschool you, and I don't have enough money to buy you a damn tutor, so you have to. It's for your own good; for your future."

I had five days. Five days to get my shit together and haul my shitty emotionless facade to a new school.

(Y/N) would've looked on the bright side of things. She would've put a smile on my face for me.

I stood up, put the leftovers on the laminate counter, and made my way to my room. My boxes were stacked against the right wall where I had left them and my mattress was in the far left corner.

I rummaged through the box labeled DAVE'S ROOM, pulling out bed sheets, pillows, and blankets. I made my bed and then threw the empty box out of my room.

My turntables were next. I unloaded the separate pieces and then screwed them together, putting them under the windows.

Next, I sorted all of my clothes into their rightful places: shirts on hangers in the closet, shoes on the floor of the closet, and everything else folded in piles. We had sold out old furniture so we didn't have to move it, which meant I didn't have  any dressers at the moment.  I decided to do the rest later, and relax for a moment.

I flopped onto my mattress and pulled my phone out of my pocket. A painful reminder of (Y/N) greeted me; she was still my background. (Y/N) was sticking her tongue out at the camera, a playful look of anger flashing in her (e/c) eyes. Her (h/l) (h/c) framed the sides of her soft, beautiful face.

I miss her. A lot.

I stood up, threw my phone back down on the bed and made my way back to the boxes. I pried open the flaps of another box with DAVE'S ROOM written on it and pulled out what I was looking for. I went and asked Dirk for nails and a hammer, then brought them back to my room. Next, I moved my turntables
to the wall my bed was on and hammered a nail into the wall.

I gently picked up (Y/N)'s painting and hung it on the nail above my turntables. I stood there, admiring her craftsmanship. Tears threatened to spill. I had to take my shades off and wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

Strider's weren't supposed to cry.

But I wasn't ashamed.