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You don't know what you expected to happen when you released the Tumor. But you know you didn't expect this.
The quest beds stare at you, your symbols inscribed upon them, and before you can stop yourself, you gasp, hands to your mouth.
You never thought -
You never thought you'd have to go through with it. Even knowing that your death was inevitable, coming here and seeing the quest beds makes it different, makes it tangible. There they are, the symbols of your mortality, three feet in front of you.
Dave slides his shades up on top of his head (an act that, though you've only known him through dreams and chats, you feel has a weight to it you're not entirely comfortable with.) He looks at you and smiles a little, and you stare at him wide-eyed, taking in his red gaze, the soft purple bruises under his eyes, the fucking weariness to the whole thing.
Thirteen year old kids are not supposed to look like that.
You manage to shuffle your hands down from your face, and ruminate on the fact that thirteen year old kids aren't supposed to be asked to die, suddenly, and rise again. Thirteen year old kids aren't called to birth universes and steer themselves into megaparsec sized suns and thirteen year old kids aren't supposed to become gods but when was the last time your life was fucking fair?
"I guess I knew this was going to happen eventually," he says softly, and your heart kind of goes oh, Dave.
You squeeze out a smile. "It's weird how it's still hard, even though - I always knew this was a suicide mission. An atonement."
His smile twitches up a little, becomes a bit more sincere. "Is it hard, and no one understands?"
Trust Dave to make jokes while you were watching the seconds tick down to an unimaginable act of destruction, to the moment when everything changes, to your death.
"I warned you man," you mutter. "I told you dog. Quest beds, they're fucking everywhere."
He snorts then. Actually snorts. And it's the most beautiful thing you've heard in a long time.
You're both hovering over your beds, now, watching the final seconds go by, taking in the glow of two universes. You're looking at each other, and there's a longing there you can't really understand.
Part of you thinks - I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to die with Dave Strider. I'm tainted, I'm broken and sullied and he is glorious, standing there unblinking, chin up.
"Where doing it man," he says, holding out his hand.
You take it, and squeeze his calloused fingers tightly. "Where making this happen," you say.
He leans over so your foreheads are touching, and you see that he's crying a little.
You think you are too. The heat all around you turns the wetness to salty tracks down his face in seconds.
You kiss his forehead, smooth down his hair. "Get back on your quest bed properly, Strider. I'm not letting you get away that easily."
He scoots back over the center of his bed, still holding onto your hand like it's the last thing separating him from oblivion and you suppose in a way it probably is.
Three. Two. One.
"See you on the other side," he says.
And then everything is green.