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You don't know how to help Dave. You don't know how to make him understand that he's worth more than the abuse he's endured. You realize that you really don't know much n the grand scheme of it all, and that you're actually really not prepared for this, for helping your friend. But fuck if you're not going to try.
Dave is someone you care about, someone you've spent the last five years of your life with online. He knows so much about you, about your life and your Dad and everything else, but you still really don't know much about him. And you guess you can sort of understand now, or at least- you think? Dave has always been a guy who talk talk talks, but doesn't really say much at all.
You hope it doesn't make you a shitty friend to admit this to yourself, to admit that you actually know very little about Dave. You hope not! But with your guilty admission aside, you're starting to see more about him than you ever have. Maybe it's the whole "being in person" thing, or maybe you're just getting better at reading him, but it's becoming harder and harder to not get upset yourself with what you see.
It's the little tells- the way Dave flinches when you wake him up in the morning (like he's transported back to Bro, back to that fucking bastard, you think he expects you to hurt him too), the way his eyes move rapidly behind his shades whenever he enters a room, like he's looking for an exit in case he needs to run, the way he doesn't like being in the same room as your Dad for more than a few minutes before he excuses himself, usually to the bathroom. The way he apologizes like clockwork for things that aren't even his fault. The way he sometimes wakes up screaming
«I'm sorry» has become your most hated phrase when it comes from Dave's lips, because he should never, ever have to be sorry for just existing.
Your Dad has noticed too; he asks you about Dave's background once, after the girls leave and he's still at your house, and you give him a vague and fuzzy rundown. But he gets it, and you love your dad for that. He understands and he doesn't ask questions-- a surge of sadness grips your throat whenever you think about how great he is now, because it's a reminder to you of what Dave never had. "I've noticed that Dave seems to be a bit uneasy around me at times, is there any specific reason for this?"
After you tell him about Bro (again, vaguely; you don't want to betray Dave's trust by telling him too much) he says that Dave can stay as long as he likes, though he makes it clear to you that he will have to undergo some challenges in the near future to become an emancipated minor. Your Dad worries about the consequences often, he tells you he could be arrested for harboring a 'runaway' even though you both know that Dave shouldn't have to belong in Texas with his Bro anyway, and you tell him that everything will work out.
But you're just a kid, and you don't know what to do. So you settle for what you can.
----
A few weeks after the girls leave, you overhear Dave talking in your room over the phone. You think this is what shatters your built up relative peace. In one moment, you feel everything crashing down around you.
"No- I'm sorry. No. Please."
And you know, with a shiver running down your spine, that he's talking to Bro. You both knew he would call or show up eventually, though you didn't know when.
With your heartbeat in your ears, you lean closer to the door and hold your breath.
"Don't hurt them," Dave pleads. You can hear the shaking in his voice, and you can imaging his hands having trouble holding the phone still. You want, more than anything, to move and go to him, but you can't make your legs budge from their spot by the door.
"Please," Dave repeats, his voice cracking. "I'll do anything."
There's a pause, and your entire body is prickling like you've just been dumped into a vat of ice water
"--Yeah. I-" Dave takes a huge breath, and the next thing he says sounds small, and you think he whimpers. "I'll. I'll come back, okay? Just-"
Bro must be talking, because Dave stops for a second. When he starts back up, he sounds more frantic than he did before. "No. Please I promise. I'll be good, I'll behave this time," your heart feels like it's being seized up by a monster straight out of your chest. "Just don't hurt John or his Dad."
There's another quick pause, to which Dave responds in a whisper (one you have to strain to hear over the erratic beating of your heart). "No. No, I didn't tell anyone."
Oh god you're going to vomit.
You slip into the room after that as quickly as possible, and you watch Dave, with his shades off and his hand shaking with his phone by his ear, look at you with wide, worried eyes. You see his mouth twist downward and he says goodbye to Bro, and he hangs up.
"Don't look at me like that," he says with a warble in his voice. "Please."
You hiccup and bring your fingers to your face, surprised to find that they come back wet. You look back at Dave and his miserable posture and hiccup again.
"You're not going back, Dave. You can't."
"Like hell I can't," he says, sounding bitter. "Just watch me. I'll be outta your hair by dinner."
You notice that Dave's hands are shaking as he says this.
You know he doesn't want to leave.
You don't want him to leave either.
When you don't say anything and instead settle for staring at him, Dave brings his shaking fingers up to his head and runs them through him hair. A nervous habit of his you've picked up. "Bro will buy me a plane ticket and I can--"
His voice cuts off when you step towards him. Your mind is screaming a mantra of Dave Dave Dave Dave Dave, and you're only sure of one thing: you can't let Dave go back to his Bro to be beat and hurt and stepped on. He is the best friend you've ever had, and you don't ever want to see him this afraid and this anxious.
"I said don't fuckin' look at me like that Egbert," Dave snaps, taking a step back to match your step forward.
"Dave--"
"I said--"
"Please--"
"Don't fuckin'--"
"Dave!"
"Stop looking at me!"
You're in front of him now, facing down at him, and your eyesight is blurry through your tears. "Do you want to go back?"
Dave isn't looking at you, his eyes are trained to the carpet, his unflinching gaze growing weaker with your words. He doesn't answer.
"Dave, do you want to go back?"
His fists clench at his sides and he works his jaw; clench, unclench. "D's it matter what I want? No, it doesn't." Dave is breathing shallowly, like his air is coming through a straw. If you weren't so worried about his reaction, you'd lean over to hug him, but you know from experience that he can get pretty spooked by those kinds of things, and you need to talk him out of this fast.
"Of course it matters," you say gently. "I want you to be happy."
He scoffs at that and your heart twists in your chest. His face as he speaks is bitter and full of resentment. "Me? Happy? That's a good joke, better than your usual ones."
"Dave, please, you don't have to try and keep us safe. We'll be fine."
"Y'don't fuckin' get it do you?" Dave spits, his shoulders raising. He backs himself into the wall and keeps his eyes on the ground. His knuckles go white from the pressure of his clenched fists. "Bro is... He's 6 foot 5. He isn't some weak old guy; he's big and strong and he'll do anything to get what he wants, and there ain't nothing I can do about it no how. It's either--"
He stutters. Draws another breath, then continues. "It's either I just give in an', an' go back to the apartment and deal with it like a man or I let-- or I let you get hurt for my fuckups, and then it'll all be my fault." A single tear almost rolls down Dave's cheek, but he scrubs it away swiftly before it has the chance to.
"We can call the cops," you offer weakly.
Dave gives a dry, humorless laugh in response. To you, it sounds like a bark. "Yeah okay. An' then what? He goes to jail for a while and gets out to come after me again? What about you and your dad. If Bro goes to jail, when he gets out, he'll try an' kill you. Please. Just let me go back, don't let me drag you down too."
"No," You say, more confident than you were before. "Dave. You mean the world to me. I don't think-- I don't think I could live knowing you're getting the shit beat out of you while I could've tried to prevent it. I know you don't understand it but we love you. My dad and I love you, and we would risk our lives if it meant you could be safe."
At this, Dave gives a loud, heart wrenching sob and slides down the wall, collapsing into himself, tucking himself down like a foldable lawn chair. "But why? Why do y-you care about me? I don't-"
Dave lets his head fall into his knees and pulls his hair. "You don't know-w what kind of shit he did to me, John. Y-you don't know how many times I wished he coulda' killed me and just ended it. I don't-- I don't want to go back."
You lean down beside him and slowly move your hand to his shoulder. He cries harder than you've ever seen and yanks his hair fiercely . You try and rub soothing circles on his shoulder to help in any way you can.
"I'm-" Dave inhales, but the breath comes in as short bursts of stuttering. "I hate him. I hate being-- I hate being fucked with and I hate him I hate him. I don't want to hurt, every time-- every time he touches me, I just, I-"
"Shhh... It's okay Dave."
He wails again, "It's not okay, nothing is okay! He wants me back and I have to go. I have to go and I just want to die--"
"You're not going back." You assure him again, "My dad will figure something out."
Dave looks like he's going to say something, but his phone rings suddenly. He freezes up in your grasp and you grab it quickly before he does, not trusting him to answer.
You look down at the screen and hold your breath.
BRO: i bought the ticket. your flights in two hours. if i dont see you at the airport at the time your plane is supposed to land, some real bad shits going to happen
BRO: and i dont want to hurt you or your little friend if i dont have to
Deep breath. Come on John, do it for Dave.
YOU: sorry, mr. strider, but dave won't be coming home to you anytime soon.
There isn't a reply for two whole minutes, during which Dave begins rocking back and forth, sobbing that he doesn't want to feel the grip of Bro's hand around his throat anymore and about how rotten beer breath smells going into his mouth. You feel anxiety bubble in your throat but feel that this is necessary, no matter what.
The response brings another pang of terror through you.
BRO: alright. if thats how you want to play this game, faggot, ill play along.
Your heart beats in your throat and you rest your head on Dave's shoulder as he weeps, worried tremendously about the future, but sure that your dad can help. You stand, gently tug Dave up with you, and go to the living room where your dad is watching criminal minds.
He sees the both of you, crying and holding on to each other for support, and shifts his attention to you with worry on his face.
When you show him the messages with rambling words of explanation, his eyebrows pinch together and he frowns.
Your Dad turns off the T.V.
Dave starts apologizing frantically, and you feel dizzy with sadness and grief. This isn't his fault, this isn't--
Your Dad stands, moves over to you, and wraps the both of you in his arms. Dave jolts, still apologizing as if to save himself, but doesn't move otherwise.
Your Dad squeezes his eyes shut and assures the both of you that everything will be alright and that Dave shouldn't apologize. Dave is still worriedly rambling off, saying he's sorry and that he doesn't want you to get hurt and that he's worried for the both of you more than himself because unlike you, he's used to it, which stings to hear regardless.
"We'll get through this together, I promise." Dad says, tightening his hold. You trust your dad, you know he can help.
You know he can make everything okay.
Dave sniffs and wipes his eyes. In this moment, you hope he believes in what you said about him deserving happiness. Out of everyone on the planet, you think Dave deserves to smile the most.