Plajus-Chan

Dave’s been incredibly quiet. Usually you can’t get him to shut up, and you would have enjoyed the silence if you weren’t so worried. Dave was a tough, independent kid, but suddenly your parental protectiveness has come back from hibernation. It all started a month ago when you were just lounging in your room, doing updates on the site and sorting some payments out. Usual work stuff. But you had flinched when you heard him yell your name. It couldn’t have been anything serious, so you yelled back, “What?” He didn’t reply. Instead he rushed into your room and you spun your chair around to face him.

TG: hey egbert TG: are you there TG: its kinda serious TG: i guess EB: hey. you all right? TG: fine TG: typical night terror EB: oh. EB: what about? TG: the usual TG: giantass green skeleton trying to kill us with a scoop of flying dog on the side TG: im cool TG: just lookin for a bit of friendly comfort TG: dont tell the girls EB: hehe. your secret is safe with me. how bout a distracting topic? like…. EB: how’s school? TG: pft. fuck school TG: it aint fair man TG: we saved the world and no one knows TG: we have ptsd and we have to go back to school like nothing happened TG: like we played pac man or something

Roxy has a thing for claiming you as her own. Apparently your constant aura of major gay-ness is a big turn on for her. Any time you and your friends get together on campus for lunch or studying, someone is in your lap. Today it’s Roxy. You’re helping her with math. Jane is lounging in the grass reading a few feet away. Today’s lesson is solving equations with substitution. You’re good at math, but you don’t really care about it, and Roxy’s strength is in writing, like her mother. Except that Roxy lacks strength in actually writing correctly. “Do the next one on your own,” you inform her. &ld

You’re living in your father’s house. It’s quiet and doesn’t smell like his baking and you don’t like it. You don’t spend a lot of time there anyway. After your classes, you go to the hospital doing your work, sitting next to your father’s bed. He still hasn’t woken up. He just lies there, his heart monitor sometimes making weird jumps. The doctors say he’s not heading towards death, but he doesn’t seem to want to wake, either. Dave tries to text you a few times. Tries calling. You can’t listen to him, though. Because you really love his voice, and if you listen to him apolog

You and Dave are so casual sometimes. He’s lying on his stomach, playing Mario Kart on his DS.  You’re lying on his back while he’s shirtless because you enjoy tracing the tattoos on his back. Your fingertip outlines every gear and makes circles in the spots of dark shading. You listen to the sound of his kart racing while resting your chin on his spine to look at the half of the yin-yang on the back of his neck. Dave said he and his brother promised to get it when they were sixteen, and he got it even if they weren’t together. You both wonder if his brother kept the same promise. “Shit,” Dave murmurs to