Addict.

DAVE STORY

Content warning: This fanfic contains themes of self-harm and depression, reader discretion is advised.

Dave Strider had always been the cool kid. With his shades, ironic T-shirts, and effortless swagger, he seemed untouchable. But beneath the surface, Dave was struggling with a darkness that threatened to consume him.

It started with little things. Dave would stay up all night, unable to quiet the steady stream of thoughts racing through his head. He would skip meals, claiming he wasn't hungry, but really it was because he didn't have the energy to eat. And then, one day, he found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a razor blade in his hand.

He didn't know why he did it. It was like something inside of him had snapped, and the only way to feel anything was to inflict pain on himself. At first, it was just a few shallow cuts, but soon Dave found himself cutting deeper and deeper, until he was carving intricate patterns into his skin.

It became a ritual. Every night, Dave would retreat to the bathroom, lock the door, and cut himself until he couldn't feel anything else. It was the only time he felt alive.

But the cuts didn't heal. They left angry red scars that crisscrossed his arms and legs, a constant reminder of the pain he was trying to escape. Dave tried to hide them, wearing long sleeves and pants even in the hottest weather, but it was impossible to keep them completely hidden.

It wasn't just the self-harm that was consuming him, though. Dave was also struggling with a crushing sense of depression. He felt like he was drowning, like he was trapped in a never-ending cycle of sadness and pain. He didn't know how to escape it.

It was a weird sort of limbo, where he went through the motions of his life, but felt like he was just a ghost, drifting aimlessly through his days. He tried to talk to his friends about it, but they didn't really get it. They saw him as the cool kid, the one who had everything figured out. They didn't know how lost he really was.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Dave had been having a particularly bad day. He had skipped class, spent hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling, and had cut himself more times than he could count. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and just wanted to disappear.

He was lying on his bed, staring blankly at his phone, when he heard a knock on his door.

"Dave, it's me," a voice called out. It was Rose, his best friend and, arguably, the only person who really understood him.

Dave didn't answer. He just lay there, hoping she would go away.

"Dave, I know you're in there," Rose said, her voice soft and gentle. "Can I come in?"

Dave didn't move, but he didn't say no either. He heard the door open and felt the bed dip as Rose sat down beside him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Rose spoke up again.

"I know things have been really hard for you lately," she said. "And I know you don't want to talk about it. But I want you to know that I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here."

Dave felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell Rose everything

, but he didn't know where to start. He had been keeping so much inside for so long that it felt like an impossible task to put it all into words.

Rose's kindness touched him in a way he couldn't describe. He had been feeling so alone and isolated, like nobody could understand what he was going through. But her words made him feel like he wasn't alone after all.

"Thank you," Dave managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate that more than you know."

Rose gave him a gentle smile. "Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here to listen."

Dave took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe it was time to finally open up about what had been weighing on him for so long. He didn't know if he was ready to share everything, but he knew that he didn't have to face it alone.

"Okay," he said, finally meeting Rose's gaze. "I'll try."