Chapter Text
Lars does not like Dave, not at all. He's annoying, brash, talks too much and too loud; and that's saying a lot because Lars is also all of those things, but he's seeing it from the outside in and he hates it. That sudden and painful self reflection because of Dave is not the worst part.
Dave stole James from Lars. They used to be so close, it was literally them against the world, and then Dave had to ruin everything once they started college.
Between practice, games, and different schedules, Lars hardly ever sees James anymore, and it makes him sad. When he does get the rare opportunity to see him, Dave always tags along, and then Lars becomes the third wheel. Forgotten.
To make things even worse, he's paired up with Dave for a humanities project. He doesn't know what he did that was so bad to get this kind of karma, but he regrets whatever it was because this is gonna suck.
Dave and James are roommates, but James isn't even here so Lars is stuck with fucking Dave all day and night. Go figure.
They got all their books on their topic from the library already and have them all spread out on the floor in front of the couch. Lars sits on one end as far from Dave as he can, "okay, let's get this shit over with."
Dave is surprisingly compliant, picking up a book with no qualms, reads, and takes plenty of notes. It's shocking, but Lars won't let his guard down just because of some out of the blue good behavior. It's sure to come to a screeching halt sooner or later and then Lars will have to resist pulling his hair out.
An hour rolls by and then another, they're moving at an exceptional pace with promise of finishing before too late. Lars stretches, sitting hunched over to read being bad for his back, and then his stomach growls embarrassingly loud.
Dave looks up from his book, shocked, "okay then, time for a break." He dog ears the page he was on and walks to his fridge without another word.
This good behavior is now bizarre. He warms something up in the microwave and Lars just sits there bewildered. Dave must want something out of him, but he hasn't figured out just what it is yet. They're doing equal work, so it can't have anything to do with the project. He even has James glued to his side, and Lars has nothing left to give, so what could it possibly be?
Dave comes back with two plates of pizza. He hands one to Lars, "here. We got this yesterday and then got too full to finish." Despite James and Dave being pretty big guys, their diets still have to be good for football so their intake of junk food has drastically decreased.
"Thanks." Lars can't help but still feel on edge, and he doesn't even know why anymore. Dave has never actually done anything bad to him, not on purpose at least. He didn't "steal" James either. Lars may just be growing from James apart and he takes his anger out on Dave as resentment. Lars knows all of this, yet he can't stop himself from thinking badly of Dave. Maybe it's time he tried to stop.
They sit quietly while they eat. They weren't friends before James, so there isn't much they talk about or even know about each other.
"So," Dave breaks the silence first, "how long have you been friends with James?"
"Since we were little. I think we were like ten or something." Their moms were friends before James's passed away and he'd always come over to avoid playing with dolls or dress up with his sister.
"Cool, cool."
It's quiet again. Dave takes another bite and this small talk might just kill Lars. It just feels very dry, like Dave wants to know everything about James that he doesn't already know and nothing about Lars.
"He talks about you all the time, y'know?"
"Really?" Dave's wording really pisses Lars off, like James is just so distant from him and Dave is the messenger.
"Yeah. He says you're his best friend and that he misses you and shit."
"I'm right fucking here," Lars has to put his pizza down to throw his arms up before he drops it. "Been here the whole fucking time."
Dave has not expressed a single emotion. He's all smooth and Lars can't read him at all.
"He thinks you're mad at him."
"I'm not, I'm mad at you." Lars shuts himself up before any more heated words leave his mouth. He shouldn't have said that.
"I know."
He really shouldn't have said that. Red regret colors his face and he doesn't know what to do now. The silence between them is painful.
"When I first met you guys, I thought you were his girlfriend."
Lars whips his head to look at Dave like that was the dumbest shit he's ever heard, because it was. "Are you fucking serious?"
Dave waves him off, but he's looking at the floor. "Yeah, yeah. I figured it out after you started talking, but I still," he takes a shaky breath. His pizza is gone and he picks up the book he was reading before, opening up to the page he marked. "I still thought you were pretty. Not like a girl, just–pretty."
Lars has a hard time processing that. "Uh, thanks?" Was that a confession? What the hell is he supposed to do with that?
The silence now is deafening and extremely awkward, well, Lars feels awkward. If Dave does then he's not showing it, he's just diligently reading his book.
No sideways glances are spared for a while, neither of them know what to do except work, which they're almost done with for the day. They have a few days to do the project, and Lars would much rather get it done sooner than later, but he really wants to leave now.
He's just about ready to pack up when a flash of lightning seeps through the cheap blinds on the windows and the roll of thunder after shakes the whole apartment. The sudden weather scares the boys, both of them flinching hard at the loud noise and frowning at the roar of rain coming down.
"Great." Now Lars is really stuck here. He would've been fine if Dave didn't say some stupid shit, but he's seriously considering walking home in the downpour.
"You shouldn't go out in that," Dave tries to stop him.
"Oh, what? So you can keep me here all for yourself?" Lars slings his backpack over one shoulder, "fuck no."
Dave puts his book down and stands up, "even if I didn't feel the way I do about you, I wouldn't want you going out in that." He walks in front of Lars, between him and the door, and locks it. "Besides, James would kill me if he found out you went out there."
Lars lets his bag drop, "fuck, I hate hearing you say his name." He storms off to James's room and slams the door, hoping he'd come home to his rescue, but Lars knows he won't.
He's beyond annoyed and was right before, he fucking hates Dave and he won't try to play nice anymore. He just has to rough it these next couple of days and then he'll try his damndest to avoid Dave from now on. If that means he won't hang out with James anymore, then so be it.
He strips out of his day clothes and digs through James's dresser for a shirt and some sweatpants. He hasn't borrowed clothes like this in a while, it almost feels wrong now, but it's an emergency.
The shirt hangs off his shoulder, low at his collar bone, and the sweatpants pool at his feet. James didn't used to be so much bigger than Lars and it hurts. Time is passing way too fast and he can't keep up. James is growing up, but Lars isn't growing with him.
It's not even late, the storm clouds make it look so, but Lars tries to go to sleep in James's bed with tears in his eyes and barely anything in his stomach. He never finished his pizza.