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[ dirk's clothes are different too, when connor spots him. the polo is gone, replaced with a black tank top, and every goddamn scar, even the ones at his collarbones and upper chest, are visible. there's a ton of them, of course, but he doesn't seem put out by them.

she's got her hand on dirk's arm when connor approaches, and she arches an eyebrow when he touches dirk's shoulder. to dirk's credit he doesn't jump, but he looks back at connor and... things don't tie together, for a moment.

something's wrong, but he can't place it. his head tilts one way, then the other, then like everything's slotted into place, he speaks. ]

This is Ginger. Ginger, this is Connor.

[ he's not smiling, but when does he ever? ginger squeezes his arm and continues on for him, a pleasure. now, dirk, you're not leaving me for a younger model, are you? her tone is teasing and dirk's ears burn even hotter. ]

Don't be silly, darlin'.

[I'm dating his brother, actually is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't say it. That's not true and... Connor doesn't mind lying, but that? That's a statement with too many lies in it. None of it's true.]

We're just friends. I look after his kid brother sometimes, you know? [That's the worst way to put "I platonically daddy his young brother" but oh well! Can't take it back now.] And him, when he's being stubborn.

[Connor's hand moves for Dirk's shoulder to gently ruffle his hair. He would never do that outside of this dream, but he's trying to sell the fact that they're friends and he's not a guy who patched Dirk up in his own bathroom a few hours after making out with his brother. Normally, he'd try to break out of a dream as quickly as possible but here? Here, he wants to know more.]

[ i didn't know dirk had a kid brother, she says, almost reproachfully, and dirk swallows. the timelines don't match up, but dreams are nebulous enough that it slips by him. ]

New occurrence. Keeping him on the down low. You know how it gets out here.

[ she seems contemplative, and looks at connor while he ruffles dirk's hair. she smiles though, and rests her arm on dirk's other shoulder to lean close.

dirk could use some friends, anyway. all he does is hang around here and fight. it's good to see someone looking after him. ]

Babe, I'm not that bad--

[ you came in here tonight reeking of blood, don't play the innocent card with me.

dirk doesn't seem to notice that he called her babe, either. ]

Oh, this is that Ginger?

[Dirk has never once mentioned a Ginger, but Connor can put pieces together quickly enough to stay in the flow of the conversation. He's unusually perceptive when he wants to be, and this is interesting to him. Sometimes he feels like the only reason that Dave is willing to put up with the tiny trail of breadcrumbs that Connor leaves for him is the fact that Dirk is even worse about it.]

Dirk, you can't just tell a girl a name and leave out the important information!

[Connor gently shoves at Dirk's shoulder, trying to do his best offended queen impersonation. He's actually putting a lot of effort into modulating his voice, which brings out his accent. It's not exactly that it's not present normally, but it's easier to tell he's very East Coast when he's actually putting tone back into his voice.]

Don't gang up on me, here.

[ she laughs, tugging at a strand of his hair in a way that makes him go even redder when paired with connor's reproach. something about this dirk is surprisingly cute, because he's going with all this shit like it's normal. ]

I never remember what I tell people, don't blame me.

[ but his lips have ticked up a tiny bit at the corners and he grabs his beer to take a drink of it and set it back down. ]

We've been dating... what, a year? Sure, a year. I'm bad with time. Always have been.

[ something is picking at the back of his mind, but he can't place it yet. ]

[Do you forget stuff a lot? Is that why you wrote it down?]

Time's made-up bullshit, you're forgiven.

[Connor waves a hand around. His nails are usually more understated, mostly for work reasons, but here they're glittery. To match the rest of his outfit, obviously. The vulnerability Connor has on display isn't a secret exactly. He simply doesn't draw attention to it most of the time. Telling people things is for other people who don't treat themselves like a puzzle that needs to be solved.]

You should probably stop getting into so many fights though.

Feels like it, anyway. Thanks for your magnanimous decision.

[ the sparkle catches his eye but he seems used to glitz because he just lets his eyes travel across his hands and back to the conversation at hand (so to speak). if he notices anything he doesn't comment, though he does laugh, a low and rough thing that sounds like he doesn't do it often. ]

The fights find me, and I just can't back down. I'm not going to die until way later, there's nothing wrong with a little strifing. Got me where I am now.

[ sure, fifteen years is 'way later' to a twenty year old. he sounds so cavalier about dying, though, which makes ginger click her tongue disapprovingly.

he's always talking like he knows exactly when it's going to happen, despite telling everyone he can't tell time. ]

[Dave said something about that, something about Dirk dying when he was 13. And something about the way Ginger phrases it collides with the way Dirk had just been there when Dave called him. Huh. That's not a power he's run into before—well. He has. He has a limited scope version of the same thing, a rough assurance that things could go a certain way, but it's not quite the same he doesn't think. He doesn't know, he can only guess. Asking about that would break the illusion though.

Well. He's actually about to break it anyway. He's definitely about to break it.]

You'd be surprised. I'm supposed to be dead too but it's my birthday again next month.

[ the thing about dirk is this: he senses when things are off, but he also had a sense for when the world was going to end. he knew, down to the second, when the meteors would fall, and he knew, down to the second, when he was going to die. it's the only time-related thing he was ever good at. but he still did everything he could. he's had a discussion with dave about the 'training' that dirk put blindly him through already, but they haven't touched on the events leading up to dirk's death.

maybe they never will.

that's that and this is this, though.

this is a discrepancy and it breaks through as soon as connor says what he has to say. a tension rises in his shoulders because all at once he remembers who connor is and where he's from instead of a nebulous 'of course i know that guy' vibe. he looks to connor, lips tipping into a one-pixel frown, but he doesn't say anything for a long moment.

when he does, his voice is quiet. ]

I hadn't even thought about having another birthday.

[ that's not all that's bothering him, of course: this is an intensely private dream, and the fact that connor is here to see it, that dirk confirmed it's what's supposed to be going on in that stage of his life, briefly makes bile rise in his throat.

he pushes it down, though. he doubts that connor will refrain from mentioning it later, but he's focusing on now. ]

I know. This is the fourth birthday after I killed myself and it still doesn't feel real.

[Tim asked him about his birthday, once. He didn't ask again after Connor went quiet, horrorstricken at the idea of time passing. When you live your entire life wanting to die, the idea of living another year seems arduous. That was back when he didn't have his shit together, when he hadn't yet summoned up a desire to live. Just the sickening realization that he couldn't die. The Storyteller would just keep bringing him back again and again and again.]

I think it's time to wake up, Dirk.

[The gentle suggestion is paired with the music in the bar abruptly changing.]

I knew for so long when I'd die. I planned my entire life around it. I never made any long-term plans because I wasn't supposed to be alive past thirty-five. Back home, I stay dead. I could tell by the way Dave looked at me when he saw me. How he talked.

[ he doesn't know what to do with living, now. he always had a purpose, an end goal, and now? the expanse of more time than he deserves is spread before him and he has no idea what's going to happen.

connor speaking again pulls him out of his worries though, and his brow furrows. just a little. ]

... Yeah.

[ it takes a strong emotion to wake up from the normal dreams while the nightmares take synchrony; this isn't a nightmare so all it really takes is the feeling of helplessness over the passage of time paired with connor's words to get him to finally wake, sweating and briefly disoriented.

... ah, fuck. connor's probably going to want to talk about this.

he's going to stare at the ceiling and hope he's safe from that eventuality, but he's not hopeful. ]

[Connor nearly falls out of the tree when he wakes. Mountain Goats is still playing on his end and he sits with it until it finishes before getting out of the tree and going to his own apartment briefly. When he does eventually bang on the door of Dirk's apartment, it's about 45 minutes later and dressed exactly as he was in the dream. His hair's just braided and thrown over his shoulder though.]

Open the fuck up, asshole! We're gonna have an awful conversation right now!

[ for those 45 minutes, dirk lays on the floor motionless and stares up at the ceiling. he only blinks when absolutely necessary.

then connor bangs on his door and he groans, covering his face with a hand and not even getting up for a while longer.

then he finally stands and puts on his cracked glasses to go to the door. he should open it. he should have a conversation.

he opens the door.

he sees what connor is wearing. ]

No.

[ he shuts the door again and the click of the lock is very audible.

then he goes to lay on the couch and die a little more each moment that passes. ]

Joke's on you, I was a teenage delinquent.

[It's mostly mumbled under his breath as he fishes around in his messenger bag for a set of lockpicks. Technically speaking, he wasn't actually a teenage delinquent. He was simply a depressed teenager that everyone assumed was a delinquent who liked watching lockpicking videos on YouTube while lying in bed, too depressed to actually function. The point here is really that Connor takes five minutes to pick the lock and then simply lets himself into Dirk's apartment. Once he's shut the door behind him, Connor calls out into the apartment.]

Really wasn't joking about having an awful conversation! We can start with Ginger, fun afterlife talk, or the inescapable weirdness of having a birthday. I'll even let you ask me awful personal questions and I try not to immediately refuse to answer them.

[ dirk just fucking lays there while connor breaks in. he doesn't move to stop him, just fucking lays there miserably. when connor calls out into the apartment dirk lifts one hand over the back of the couch to flip him off where he can see it.

he doesn't do anything else for a long moment.

when he speaks, it has a rough edge to it. not angry, but slightly shaken. ]

Or we could not ask each other any questions and avoid the awful conversation entirely. I like the sound of that one.

[Cpnnor crosses the apartment to the couch and leans over Dirk, braid swinging slightly in the air.]

If I don't have this conversation with you, I'm gonna go have it with Dave so that's your choice.

[Sometimes, very vaguely, Connor misses the days when he was too depressed to care about other people too deeply? Like, that super wasn't healthy but it feels very weird to be on this end of "hey we should probably talk about the awful shit that happened." Is this what Tim went through every time he tried to ask if Connor was okay? Oh god. If he ever gets back home, he owes Tim an apology for being such a shithead.]

[ oh, he sure as fuck doesn't want that. ]

Fine.

[ he finally sits up so there's room on the couch for connor to sit if he wants to and he pinches the bridge of his nose. ]

Dealer's choice. Which do you want to talk about first.

[Sitting down on the couch, Connor makes sure to give leaving room for Jesus between them a valid attempt.]

Is Ginger her queen name or...?

[He couldn't figure out a way to ask if Dirk was dating a trans woman in a tactful way without breaking the dream and it helps answer the question he's pretty sure would be rude to ask. Which is "okay, so like. would you bang me?" because this is... 100% that situation where a friend's brother is super hot and you're lowkey trying to get with them.]

[ of course we're starting with that. he takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly before he finally nods. the gap there is long, but at least connor gets his answer. ]

Antonio out of the club. We used to walk home with me looking like a beat up sack of shit with Ginger all dolled up. Then after a shower Antonio would come back out for the rest of the night.

[ so like, the answer is yes. despite him trying to hide it, he would indeed fuck connor. ]

Ah, okay. This [He picks up a handful of his skirt and then lets it drop again.] is different, for the record. I decline to participate in the construct of gender.

[His gender is "I want to cause a sexuality crisis."]

'cause I know you're not gonna ask and you probably don't care.

I don't know much shit about gender in any direction. Even in the club most people didn't talk about much. Being in Texas in the early nineties does that to people. Lot of the times I was fighting was right outside the club on the sidewalk. People get real bold around the time last call starts in the local bars.

[ okay, but like, that probably explains a lot about dirk in that he, a gay man, grew up in texas in the middle of the aids crisis. of course he hates being gay. ]

I don't ask many questions as a whole. It's not personal.

[History???? History???? Thinking about the passage of time? No. Connor hates that shit. Still, he's gay and he knows enough about history to know... yeah. Growing up gay just after the Reagan era? Oof.]

Yeah. I still regularly got called a fag in 2015 and we've got gay marriage.

[He starts fiddling with a stray strand of his hair. There's the kick of a drum from somewhere and Connor breathes out shakily.

he was, he was
lying in the back of my beat-up car
half groaning, half crying, but he was my star
the music played softly, with nothing to come
the remix of memories, the loop of the—

Connor didn't come out, when he was alive. Half of that was fear of his father and half of it was seeing the shit that Miguel had to deal with as an out teen and fearing that too. There were already so many problems with being Connor Murphy. He didn't want to add another one. He couldn't add another one.]

Somewhere between the second and third birthday after I died, I stopped caring what other people think. I learned how to braid my hair. I started figuring out what I like to wear. [He shrugs.] I'm not, like, saying it's easy. I'm saying it fucking sucks, actually, but I dunno. I'm happier, I guess.

Two steps forward, one step back.

[ he watches connor quietly for a moment, just taking in his features and the lay of his expression. he's made himself think about his own childhood now, from the foster fathers that called him a faggot to the jesus camp when he was thirteen that almost broke him.

he pushes that thought aside and comes back to the moment at hand with a breath that just barely shakes.

he listens when connor speaks, examining his face again in an intense way that's mitigated only a little by the glasses he's wearing. one of the points is broken off. it looks stupid.

he keeps them on.

he leans back further into the cushions then, tongue running over his teeth. ]

Once, an old lady told us when we were walking home that we were going to die of the queer disease and I laughed and told her I was going to die at thirty-five anyway. I never really... Cared what anyone else thought, it was more I fell deep into what I thought.

[ there's a pause and he considers not asking, but he ends up doing it anyway. ]

Did you ever find a purpose? A direction? After dying.

Yeah, I killed myself so... I'm still here? No, I guess that's not really...

[He's still playing with his hair absently, a nervous habit he picked up after spending too much time with Lup. His nails are standard pale pink with white tips here, not in the space of the dream.]

I had a farm. I made a lot of baskets. I raised a dragon. It's like... I thought my whole purpose in life was to die, that the world would be better off without me in it. Then I did it a couple more times, because I thought it would finally stick, but eventually, I realized I could do whatever I wanted. So I started doing all the shit I thought wasn't worth it when I wasn't going to make it to 19.

[ he nods anyway though, to that. it's all he's doing right now, after all. the basic 'here i am, alive.' he's also having kind of an existential crisis about it. it's hard dying and coming back.

he still has no idea how many dead daves are lost to the universe.

but what connor says makes sense even if dirk is having trouble really grasping it as anything past a hypothetical. he doesn't blanch at the comment about the dragon anymore, having got over it since last time.

he rubs his thumb over the back of his glove a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. ]

Most things felt like they weren't worth it, before. Nothing seemed important except what I had to do to keep going. Not having something to grasp onto is... [ scary, he doesn't say. he just shakes his head. ]

It's not good.

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cw more internalized homophobia it keeps happening

cw: it's casual suicide mentions time

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cw: homophobia and homophobic slurs

cw more homophobia and slurs

cw: suicide talk

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