200 Prompts Challenge

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Ԁıяҡ ṡṭяıԀєя × яєѧԀєя

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Love. It was neither foreign nor familiar for Dirk Strider; he had his fair share of girlfriends and even boyfriends before, but he only felt the emotion with one person: Jake English. Yet, as the vibration of the door that was recently slammed behind the aforementioned black-haired male, it was like everything was lost - like it all went down to a downwards spiral that felt like winter hitting his face like a well-earned slap from someone - someone now called as his ex boyfriend now. Usually, he wouldn't be so annoyed or saddened at a loss, but... he felt like there was an empty space. He had two halves of a heart - one filled in and one half empty.

Dirk didn't dare cry, he wouldn't dare have a tear slip down his cheek; his brother might have heard the commotion, but Dave would never see him neither sob nor cry at the loss of the one person he had loved throughout his life - it was Dirk himself who taught Dave not to show his emotions too much, yet he was on the verge of breaking the rules he had made. Albeit he would think that way, he felt a tear slide down the side of his face, and his lips turned to a scowl at his failure of suppressing his emotions. The blonde-haired male made a beeline for his room, and as he felt the reassuring click behind him as the door was shut, it was a soft, almost choked-out sob that gave his emotions away as he effortlessly had fallen on the bed, eyes closed as the sounds of his own crying betrayed the supposed stoicness of the Striders.

By the other room, Dave was no fool to not know his brother was crying - but he knew how to rectify it; at least, hopefully so, as the one girl he knew that was close to Dirk was the number on his phone. He would probably set them up on a date sooner or later, and more likely than not they would end up... well, again, hopefully so. Dave's thumb was hovering over the green-colored icon, until he gave in and called anyways. After a few rings, a voice had reached his ears.

'Heyo, Dave! Whatcha up to? Any beats I could critique on, 'cause I'm dying for something to do. It's absolutely boring here!'

"Yeah, [Name], I could deffo use your help. You see, Dirk's crying in the other room and..."

'Jake broke up with him, didn't he? I'll be right over - I'm just a few floors down, alright? I'm going to be there once I manage to stop watching YouTube. See you, Strider.'

Dave's mouth betrayed the smallest hint of a geniuine smile, and he tapped on the red icon living happily in his iPhone. "Dirk... I hope she'd help, because if she doesn't, I don't know who will help you from your misery."

After a few rounds of Geometry Dash on his phone, he heard the door open, and a [hair color]-haired girl had strode into their apartment, and Dave mentally chastised himself for using the word 'strode' because, well, yeah, it was their past tense, and he didn't like to be referred to in past tense.

"Where's he?" she asked, like it would be something you'd hear in a casual conversation. It was admittedly rather stupid for her to ask, though, when she already knew the answer to that - what she didn't have an answer to, was the fact that Dirk was apparently crying.

"Other room," Dave said, before he exited his own bedroom and went out of their apartment, off to buy something. Maybe some apple juice. As per usual, since he was addicted to those.

[Name] left the younger Strider's bedroom, and her fingers gingerly hovered over the doorknob, until she got the guts to turn it and push it open. Like earlier, the room was a mess, but what - or, rather, who - was more of a mess than Dirk? He was on his bed, tear streaks still evident on his cheeks and his usually perfectly styled hair was tangled in odd places.