Hey guys. Long time no see, right? I really lost inspiration for this, and I'm pretty sure it's been like, a year since I written this. I decided I'd read it. I found the dumb mistakes and messy plot terribly embarrassing, but I am bored today and I thought I might as well give this a second shot.

(mind you, this was half written when I noticed it on my computer, so the end might have a different feel to it.)

Here is goes, you guys. :D

_DAVE_

You ended up being late, and people were already there, drinking and bothering Roxy, Dirk, and Rose about the lack of a DJ. As you climb onto the little stage, Dirk smacks you upside the head and says in his level voice: "Don't be late again. I don't wanna have to take up your shift." Dirk used to be the DJ when he founded the place, and when you were old enough to work, he gave the position to you, promoting himself to full-time Manager.

Giving him a look from behind your shades, you sit at the chair and put the head phones around your neck. No one seemed to notice you up there. You get their attention by a long, bass drop. Their heads turn. You smirk. Starting up the remix you made, Johns head turns. He arches an eyebrow. The smirk grows. The strobe lights swivel to point at the dance floor smoothly, then to you, then back and forth as if inviting people to dance. Which, they do. Your hands fly around the board, dropping beats and making sure the words of the song are clear enough to be heard.

Within 30 minutes, the place is so packed that Rose had to close the club so no one else could get in. The song ends and you automatically start up a recorded one, so you could catch your breath. You don't think you've worked that hard on a song, ever. Hopping off the stage and weaseling through the crowd, you sit at a bar stool, and throw a straw wrapper that had been lying on the red marble counter at John. He rolls his eyes and smiles a little.

"Where'd you hear that song?" he picks the straw wrapper off, throwing it away.

You smile and lean back as far as one can on a bar stool. "Oooh, you see, the person who lives next to me was singing it at like, the top of his lungs, and I heard it and I thought 'wow, what a great song,' and remixed it. So, thank him." You smirk at him and lean forward, putting your elbows on the counter and telling him to get you an apple juice. He does and looks surprised.

"Was… was I really singing that loud?" He winces slightly and leans against the opposite counter and a group of drunk chicks yell for him.

"joooooooohn~! You hoooooooo!"

Oh god please no. It was her. The chick that you had thrown out. She must have snuck back in somehow. Usually when someone's thrown out, they don't come back, or they're not allowed to return. She did. Johns head swivels and he walks to her, asking what beverage she wants like the great and polite bar tender he is, and she leans forward and pulls him into a kiss. You gape. Johns electrifying blue eyes widen and he tries pulling away, but you're already gone. You've returned to your own little niche in the club; the stage. You play a total improve mix that, obviously, you're making on the spot. It was… risky, and not many DJs can do it well. But, you're a Strider, and you can do anything. Screw Tigerblood. It was a remix of 'Radioactive' by ImagineDragons. You're kind of oblivious to how you make it sound angry, or jealous. You made it reflect your emotions. You work equally hard on this one, but you don't go back to the bar after it. You play a mix or 'Toxic' by Briteney Spears and go to your office. A sudden surge of anger sends your arm up to your shades, yanking them off your eyes and sending them flying at the wall. You don't care if they break, as of now. You'll probably care later on.

An angry yell ripping from your lungs, you look at the couch, your red eyes scorching. You remember when you guys kissed on that couch about 24 hours ago. Only 24 hours. Growling, you sparta-kick the couch, knocking it over so that it was laying on its back. You hear someone clear their throat from the doorway behind you. You whip around, seething. It was Rose. You sigh and run a hand through your hair and squeeze your eyes shut, going to sit down on the couch. Which is flipped. You end up on your back sitting upside down, your anger being extinguished quickly. Staring up at the ceiling, you finally speak.

"I don't get it Rose. How does he not get it? I don't know how to make it clearer!" She calmly walks over and sits on the edge of the flipped couch so she doesn't fall with you. Her face is softened, and her voice soothes you, "By 'He', I suppose you mean John?" You nod.

"Dave, if you love him, open up to him. Speak your mind a bit more. Really, I swear you're romantically impaired sometimes." She smirks and gets up, sashaying out of your office, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Maybe you'll go and remix another song on the spot. You need to get this energy out of you. Sliding on your shades (which aren't broken, luckily) and weave through the crowd, you finally make your way to the stage, climbing up and briefly pausing to stare at John, who is busy macking on that Vriska chick. You keep disgust from clouding your features as you silence the remix that was playing. Half the people look, noticing the absence of music. You smirk, forgetting about John for a split second. You send a pounding beat through the crowd, and they nod and scattered 'YEAH's can be heard. You slide in some bass drops and the beginning of the song smoothly comes in. It's C'mon by Panic! At the Disco ft. Fun. It makes you feel kinda optimistic. Your eyes wander to John, who's been staring at you the whole time. Oh. You give him a curious look. You wonder were that girl went. You're attention is pulled to Dirk, who has the girl over his shoulder. He seems to be taking her out of the club. Your brother gives you a thumbs up.

You look back at John, who smiles apologetically. This makes you feel a bit better. Listening to what you're doing, you notice that you don't really like how angry this remix is sounding. It'd be nice if you could spend the rest of the night with John. That's actually what you really wanna do right now. Looking for your brother again, there is a light tap on your shoulder. You turn to see your brother standing there.

"Get your ass off the stage and go home," He means to sound angry, but you know he is doing this to save you. "I'll take your shift."

Quickly finding John, you sit at a stool. "You wanna leave and head back to my place, princess?" You add a charming grin for effect. John grins, making a mock swoon gesture. He tosses his apron over the counter, following you. You let him drive for once, and you settle in the passenger seat. As he pulls out of the lot, driving down the busy road, you notice the silence that over comes the two of you.

"I don't like her, you know." John's voice is small, shattering the silence still. You suddenly find the Jeep's leather seats very interesting. John had a nice car.

"Yeah. I know." It just really pisses me off. I just really piss myself off. Dave adds mentally, glancing at John. The boy driving sighs and eventually pulls into their apartment complex. He parks and takes the keys out. He doesn't leave though. Dave stares blankly. He senses a talk coming.

"What are we, dave? Are we even together?" John sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back. Having gone rigid, Dave is quiet. He deflates when John gives him a tired, confused look.

"We're whatever you want us to be, but if you wanna be boyfriends, it has to be sealed with a kiss," He smiles genuinely for a moment, "A real one, where both of us are aware and participating." His eyes flicker down to John's lips from behind his shades.

"ok."

_JOHN_

"ok." I agreed before I thought about it. I wanted to be with Dave. I wasn't sure I what way, but I wanted to be around. I didn't care which way. I was relieved to know exactly what was going on, now. Kissing someone two times before you're even friends is considered shameful in my family. I am still getting over the culture shock, but it's easier to live in the middles class, now. Thanks to Dave.

He had a nice smile.

Leaning over to Dave, my eyes dart from his mouth to his shaded eyes. He closes the gap and I continue to have the best kiss I have ever experienced. Dave was a pretty great kisser. Before I knew it, though, I was seated in the driver's seat, panting. Dave was in his seat and he were both smiling.

"wow." I breathe. This makes him laugh, and he winks at me, sliding out of my car and shutting the door. watch him, my door still shut. Was he doing what I thought he was doing? He was.

He opens the driver's door for me, reaching for my hand. "Why weren't you this polite to me before?" I joke, smiling.

"Because you were just a snotty rich boy before," there is laughter behind his voice, "Now you're middle-class john. I personally like you better as a middle class person."

"Thanks- I think." I close the driver's door, and Dave keeps my hand intertwined with his. Strangely, I don't mind. Walking in a comfortable silence, Dave takes me to his apartment, opening the door for me (again). His place isn't the neatest, but I wasn't paying attention to that. I first noticed his photographs on the far wall by his DJ-ing stuff (some of which I bought for him). He had amazing pictures of Dirk and Rose and Roxy and even himself. I personally liked that one's of himself the most. "Dave… these are amazing!" I turn to look at him and he is frantically stuffing old pizza boxes into the trash. Deciding not to laugh at his shocked face, I gently untack one, looking at it. It was a selfie, and Dave didn't have his shades on. I wonder if he photoshopped his eyes red. Either way, they were quite stunning. Dave scrambles towards me.

"Hey! Uhm, don't look at those! They're old and really terrible. I haven't focused on photography in forever." He snatches the picture from me and I roll my eyes, my curiosity about Dave's eyes growing.

_DAVE_

I've never really cared about cleanliness until a person like John came over. Shit this was so embarrassing. I bet he won't wanna be with a slob. Maybe I can clean up a little while his back is turned-

Shit he is totally looking at my pictures. FUCK.

"Hey! Uhm, don't look at those- they're really old and terrible. I haven't focused on photography in forever." I take the picture of my eyes from him tucking it into my pocket. He'll probably think I'm weird for having red eyes. I mean, I bet wealthy people would think I'm a freak, so why wouldn't john?

I feel like I'm running in circles trying to impress and keep up this cool image for John. This sucks. Frankly, I give up. I plop down on my futon and glance at John. Ever since I met him I haven't been able to do anything right. I've been a screwy neighbor, friend, co-worker, and boyfriend so far. My voice is tired as I ask,

"I don't mean to offend you, but why don't you go get a rich boyfriend who is more like you?" Because honestly, I am nothing like john. He looks at me, sitting down. He shrugs, suppressing a grin.

"They're all ugly." He replies. My head snaps toward him, giving him and 'are you fucking kidding me' look. He laughs, bumping me.

"Oh, come on, Dave. Loosen up." John smiles.

"I am loose. I'm the loosest guy in Texas. I'm so loose that- that- fuck I can't even thing of a metaphor." I sigh, "I'm usually great at those…" This apparently amuses John, and he chuckles, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers.

"Honestly, Dave, all the rich boy's are boring, and selfish, and bratty. Like I was," He leans against me, staring at the other photos. "You aren't. You're cool, interesting, funny, cute-" he stops, grinning. He looks at me. "Need I go on?" this makes me smile.

"Nah. I get it." We are both quiet for a moment, content with just sitting there.

"Tomorrow, will you show me the other things to do here?" John asks, yawning.

"Sure. Whatever you want." I place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Thanks," He whispers, falling asleep.

Before I know it, I'm out, too.

Wow really sorry for the sudden POV change and stuff there. I kinda grew out of using 'you' all the time. Anyway, I apologize for the wait. If I don't upload fast enough, you can bother me on facebook: John Easybreezy Egbert on Tumblr: . com Skype: (im always up for a rp) Paigetheanon or on Deviantart: rebeliouslaughter . I know this chapter probably wasn't the greatest, but I'll to get this story rolling again. -kelps