Élan

The others were really just too human to understand him.

It wasn't their fault, he supposed; but still, he envied and hated them.

Dirk Strider was all too like the robots he built obsessively, and he knew it.

And really, it suited him.

He could understand wires and circuits and work. He understood how to put together scraps and make a damn supercomputer if he wanted.

He understood cause and effect and clear outcomes and logical processes, but they simply weren't applicable to life.

He just had trouble understanding human emotions in general.

They were too unpredictable.

But he still smirked anyway and played along to the subconscious cues he thought he got from his friends, because, well, they were his friends, right?

(except they weren't, not really, because they didn't know the slightest thing about him and no one could ever understand how he thought when even he didn't understand)

Truthfully, he loved them.

He loved them, because they were everything he could never be, no matter how hard he tried.

(you don't understand how lonely I am)

He loved them, because if nothing else, they were there.

It didn't matter that they were always talking about their lives, because they were talking. To him.

And that made him just a little less lonely.

(hey so what are the chances that we'd ever even have met in the first place?)

(yeah, I figured they were astronomical)

So he stuck around and laughed and snarked and told them what they wanted to hear, and he knew them better than they knew themselves, because really—

How could you expect a genius not to notice and use things?

He always tried to make them feel better.

He liked to think he succeeded.

(I bet it was an act of providence or something)

('cause if He's real, God knows I'd never have lived this long without something to live for)

(and you're it)

(all of you)

He was their rock when times got rough and things were too much to handle, because he was calm and reasonable and oh-so-unshakable.

Like a therapist robot, or something.

Here's a good riddle: what's perfectly reliable, stoic, non-judgmental, and the solution to all your problems?

Oh, what, me?

I'd say that's too kind, only...

That's just too cruel.

(you're so perfect)

(you're nothing like me)

Though...that wasn't completely true.

They never intentionally just used him to solve their problems, their own incomprehensible puzzles that drove them mad. They tried to look out for him too.

They just didn't quite know how to, because really.

He was such a strange guy.

(if I didn't know better I'd say it was meant to be)

(like we were all made just to meet each other)

Dirk hated puzzles, actually.

He could make them, but he hated solving them if they weren't his, because there were too many uncertainties, and he couldn't control it.

He liked being in control, because really, nothing was his to control, so he'd be damned if he didn't do a good job managing the few things he could.

So it was a great thing that he could make his own music and make his face completely unreadable and program his robots to be wonderful and obedient without seeming to be (and just that tiny hair less capable than him, but was that really that important?)

Too bad life was a huge puzzle.

He really hated that.

(hickory, dickory, dock)

(the mouse ran up the clock)

He constantly felt the pressure.

Figure it out, smart boy, figure it out.

Why don't you figure out how to stay alive?

Yo, what's the meaning of life?

(he fell and died)

(so sad, no one cried)

What'll it take to make you happy?

What do humans look for?

Whatever it is, figure it out.

Figure it out, Pinocchio, and maybe you can be a real boy.

(your time's runnin' out)

(oi, don't be shocked)

(ha...)

(tick, tock)

Figure it out. Save them, why don't you? They all look to you. You're the best, in their minds. Don't wanna prove 'em wrong, do we?

Oh no, God forbid.

(HE WAS JUST A MACHINE IT SEEMED)

Dirk had to be perfect.

He had to be perfect and human(but not) and everything they'd ever wanted, because...because...

They'd leave him otherwise, wouldn't they?

He didn't want to be lonely, oh no, oh no, no,no, anything but that ANYTHING I CAN'T DO IT AGAIN—

(you're wrong)

(because I am human, after all)

(and though I've tried to change it, I can't)

So he threw himself at the puzzle he saw in each daily decision and carefully contemplated word he wrote and part he modified, because he couldn't bear to connect the wrong pieces, because that would be failing.

(I wanted to be picture perfect)

(bang, baby, and you're down)

Too bad he was impatient; it was his downfall.

He wasn't even really impatient at all.

Just, feelings made him nervous.

So after he'd finally realized that oh wait, guys are way more attractive...

He'd felt that much more desperate to solve the puzzle.

People spend their whole lives searching for that person who's a perfect fit, right?

Well...why wait?

(so I can try my best to...)

(hell, I dunno)

(be happy, or something like that?)

He just couldn't get rid of that feeling, like he was wrong.

He loved Jake, didn't he?

(why are emotions so complicated and unreasonable)

(it's like they have no logical basis)

So why did he get the feeling he was trying way too hard to force all the pieces together?

He loved him, he knew that.

But...was that enough?

He knew they made a great pair.

They got along great. They were chill, and all that jazz, but.

Jake...wasn't all that mature, he had to admit.

And he didn't think too much, which was, well, extremely unattractive to someone who took pride in every perfectly executed plan he came up with and built freakin' AI units in their spare time from the literal dredges of a post-apocalyptic world.

So...was he really in love with his best friend, or was he just in love with the idea of being in love?

(it's just, like, chemicals screwin' with your head as they wish)

(so they kinda don't, I guess)

He cared, but...was he simply jumping at the most appealing (and to be honest) only opportunity for romance?

Because Jake didn't deserve that. He should have better.

And he really, really didn't want to lose their friendship.

He was always rushing into things, he supposed.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to force together pieces of a jigsaw that fit, but not quite (maybe not yet), and that would screw up the entire puzzle.

(ignorance is cruelty)

(and so is innocence)

Dirk simply didn't know what to do, and it was driving him abso-fuckin'-lutely bat-guano insane.

(what, you don't believe me?)

(ha, that's hilarious)

He was brilliant, and collected, and he knew more than anyone really ever should, but it wasn't fair.

No, it wasn't fair, not at all.

(just take a look at life)

But that was just the way it was.

So he held his head high and scoffed at fear and death, because what were such things to him, when he held hearts freely in his, given to him through nothing more than simple love?

Oh, no.

He wasn't their knight in shining armour—that had always been his brother, rash and reckless and not the absolute smartest but beyond genius in his own way and always, always kind (even if it wasn't immediately obvious) to a fault. His brother was the best friend anyone could ever have, but he, he...

He was regal, and glorious, and he'd always be sitting high above (he didn't dare come down), but he'd always be there.

He was righteous, and just, and his people adored him, because he was the prince whom they loved, for he was incredibly, unbelievably perfect.

.

DISCLAIMER: I am unfortunately not legally listed under the name Andrew Hussie. I own nothing expect my horrible twisting of nursery rhymes. But hey, I hope you enjoyed, and constructive criticism is always more than welcome; so please, if you really liked it I'd love to hear from ya. Forgive me if it's a little off; I'm still a bit woozy, got out of surgery earlier today. Have a great day, and thanks for reading!