"Are you asleep?" Rose murmurs.

"No," Dave replies, finally mustering the strength to speak. He allows himself to take her hand in his and rest his cheek against her head but nothing more. She doesn't need to know about his fears—hell, maybe he's worrying for nothing. It's not like he has proof.

And, god, how he doesn't want proof. Some theories are better left unconfirmed.

So he sinks deeper into their makeshift nest, pulling his legs up on the couch and tucking them beneath him. It seems like Rose is the one falling asleep now, her breathing slow and rhythmic against his neck. He focuses on this pattern, in and out, in and out, in and out until he feels his own eyelids begin to droop. The anxiety in the pit of his stomach is threatening him with terrible visions, trying to scare him awake, but he eventually succumbs to the exhaustion and all is black once more.

Clack, clack, tap, clack clackity clack.

Dave opens his eyes, this time to a comfortable feeling of warmth. Rose has pulled her laptop from the copy table and is resting it on one knee, periodically switching tabs on her browser and typing new addresses. Sleep is beckoning him again, making his vision swim, and he begins to drift off again.

Begins to drift off, that is, until a certain logo catches his eye and he snaps awake once more, terror seizing him.

"Rose!"

"Good morning," she says again.

"Fuck," says Dave, horrified. "Fuck, I—I didn't mean to—"

"It's quite alright, Dave," Rose replies evenly, her lips twitching, threatening to spread into a smile. "I understand." She flicks the open tab back to the college website and Dave shrinks back.

"I…didn't mean to leave it open."

"Out of all the things you're apologizing for, that's the one you chose?" she teases. "Not, 'I'm sorry I took your computer without asking'?"

"I'm sorry I took your computer without asking," he says mechanically. "I—it's not important, you can close it."

"On the contrary, it seems very important. You wouldn't have used my laptop otherwise."

Dave sinks back into the cushions, pulling the blanket closer. He tries not to shiver. "It's not important," he says again, though his conviction is less than convincing.

"It's alright, Dave. This is your life. You have a say in it, too."

"I guess." He shifts, uncomfortable. He feels ungrateful for looking at other schools after Rose went to the trouble of finding him a program at hers. A shitty program, maybe, just an aside for any hapless art students finding themselves in the wrong area of academia but—

Dave shakes his head. No. No. Shut up!

"Dave?"

He's roused from his self-deprecating inner dialogue to find Rose looking at him, a rather concerned expression her face.

"Dave, do you want to go to this school?"

Unable to answer, he just looks away. He can't say it.

"You can go to this school, Dave, but you have to tell me you want it. I won't know unless you're clear."

Dave's heart beats a tempo against his chest as the war within him rages. Tell her! Shut up! Tell her! It's insufferable and chaotic and everything is happening all at once. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to work out which voice of reason to listen to.

"Dave."

He gives a yelp as he feels fingertips slide across the skin of his stomach, resting against his scar. At once, the arguing ceases and he's able to breathe again. He inhales shakily and says, "Yeah. I want to go."

Rose gives him a warm smile—a genuine smile—and gives him a little hug. "That's my birdie." She closes the laptop and sets it on the coffee table, returning to rest her head against his shoulder. "You're going to have fun there, Dave. Your brother thinks so, too."

Bro thinks so? Dave almost wants to ask, but he's still nervous when it comes to his brother and so he says nothing. If Bro thinks it looks good, maybe he was right when he selected it as his top choice. Maybe his doppelganger had wanted to go for something similar, too, before he'd picked up on music. Music and law. What the fuck?

No, don't think about him.

"You do feel a little cool, Dave. Do you want to sleep in my bed for a while? I can give you extra blankets."

"I'm scared," Dave blurts out. For a moment, he's shocked at his own admission.

"It's alright, Dave. I'll help you with anything you don't understand."

"No, I—" Dave stops himself. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks, chickie. I'll make you proud."

"I know you will."

"…Yeah."