[A/N: Hi! Wow, I never thought I would actually get around to doing this, haha. Well, it's my first real fanfiction so forgive me for formatting errors, etc. Reviews would make me happy as a clam!

As stated, this is sadstuck. There isn't a happy ending. It's also a oneshot. Enjoy! ]

He slipped through your fingers like sand. You couldn't save him from the carelessness of himself. Though, you can't blame him either. It was an accident. All an accident.

That doesn't change the fact that you watched him take his last dying breath.

Your name is John Egbert and your best friend is dead. If you hadn't been there yourself, you might not believe it. But as slender fingers graze the smooth wood of his coffin, there's no denying that he's gone.

You'll never hear his voice again. Never see those rare smiles he seemed to save especially for you. He'll never be there to soothe you after a night terror. Never laugh together. Never again share a sweet moment, holding your hand in his. Never again would his soft lips grace your skin. You loved everything about him, and now, everything is gone. Dave Strider is gone forever.

A choked sob echoes through the vacant sanctuary, followed by a soft murmur.

"You idiot."

Tears crash onto the firm surface of a closed casket, your fists slamming down on it.

"No! You can't be gone. Please! We were going to move away; I was going to teach you to play the piano. Dave!" You cry, voice pleading desperately. "Come back!" Striders couldn't just die. You practically feel his blood on your hands.

There was just so much of it.

So much red. You could've painted the walls with it as the swords slashed through the unsuspecting young man, swords that had been launched from his sylladex. They pierced his body as though it were paper, tearing his skin open mercilessly.

You swore time stopped for just a moment, and his red eyes met yours one last time. The image haunts you. The indiscriminate gaze that seemed to beg forgiveness.

It's unclear whether he died of a vital organ being damaged or blood loss. It isn't of much importance to you either way.

Though others have left the funeral home, yourself, Jade, and Rose remain. The girls are only here because you are, and while you feel a pang of guilt, you cannot bring yourself to leave.

Rose is at your side, rubbing comforting circles in your back.

"I'm so sorry, John. Nothing more could have been done."

She knew you loved him before anyone else, and she knows how it hurts. Rose was your shoulder to cry on when your father nearly passed away. And you were hers when the same happened to her mother. As her petite arms wrap around you, the tears fall freely, embracing her as your shoulders quiver with silent sobs.

Jade can't bring herself to near the coffin that holds the boy she considered family. Dave was like a big brother, protecting her from the cruelty of the world.

He protected all of you.

And you failed to protect him.

Since his death, something has been nagging at your mind. Just several weeks before his demise- three and a half, but who's counting?- , the two of you hand been laying together in his bed, your fingers combing through his soft blonde hair as you smiled at him.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"If something happens to me," he says, his voice smooth and even, "don't ever blame yourself. After all. I'm probably just another doomed Dave. It's bad enough I even let myself get close to you. It's only going to hurt you more when I do die." He says uneasily.

"Dave, shut up." You object, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you close. "You're going to be fine."

"No, I won't."

The rest of the night continued in silence, both of you knowing he was right. Though neither of you was prepared to lose the other.

Rose lets go of you , as you rest your head on the casket, hand running across the smooth wooden surface.

"Can I have a minute alone?" Your voice is barely audible, though each of the girls nod, Rose guiding Jade out of the room bathed in the colourful light of the stained glass windows.

Once again, you're alone with Dave. Though there is no joy. No intimacy. Nothing. Only the emptiness of death and mourning.

"Dave?" You pause, as though waiting for an answer that will never come. "You would hate this music. It's so sad, and it doesn't even sound good. You could've mixed something better. The service was lame. There should've been acrobats and fireworks." A sad smile finds your features. "It sucks that you're gone. I feel kinda like I'm going to start crying again any second." It's an honest confession as you feel the sensation in your throat that forbids you from speaking. "I hope I'll see you in heaven soon. I love you, Dave."

As if on cue, a firm hand is placed on your shoulder.

"I wanted to give you somethin'."

You recognise the solemn voice of your boyfriend's older brother even before you look up.

"Dave was gonna give it to you." His name makes you inwardly cringe. "But I guess it's kinda late for that."

Slowly, you nod. It must be especially difficult for Bro. Every time he enters his apartment, and his little brother's room is just as he left it, newly developed photos being hung proudly over a makeshift darkroom, the floor littered with wires and the sleeves of records. Bed unmade, trash can full to the brim with rejected lyrics and half empty bottles of apple juice.

Almost like Dave had never left. That room stands still in time, and the elder Strider permits only you to enter. Because it's what he would have wanted. After all, Dave always did let you mess with his stuff.

"Consider yourself lucky, babe." His voice resounds through your mind, as the image of his smile accompanies it. "Anybody else would get the shit slapped out of 'em for messin' with my stuff."

"We'll don't I feel privileged!" You responded with a grin as you put down the cd collection you had been rummaging through. "What's this one?" It was obviously something he burned onto the disc, marked only with a large, cryptic 'j'.

"Songs that make me think about you." He makes a curve with his finger, forming the shape of the letter in the air. Red eyes look at you over his glasses and you nearly melt under his gaze. "Mostly cheesy love songs and shit I listen to when you ain't around."

"You sap!" You accuse, putting the disc in its rightful case, before joining him on his bed, arms wrapping around his neck.

"You love it."

"Mmm, never said I didn't!" Your grin only widens as you respond and Dave leans down to kiss your cheek.

Abruptly, you're brought back to the present as Bro hands you the very disc, along with a small, velvet box.

"John." He says. Your arms ache as you look them over wistfully.

"Yeah?"

"He was going to ask you to marry him." Suddenly, the tears are falling again as you bury your face in the older male's shirt, clutching him tightly as he reluctantly returns your embrace.

"I would've said yes." You mutter, holding back a choked sob.

"Take it." The black box is placed in your hand as he pulls away, forcing you to wrap your fingers around it. It feels like lead. "And stop cryin'. You know my little bro wouldn't want that."

Before you know it, he's gone. And you're left only with the body of the man who would have been your fiancé, and not even the permission to shed another tear.