the Pastel Goth and the Parkour Geek (Homestuck)

1. Meeting a new friend?

((a/n that picture is basically what Dave's hair looks like))

My name is DAVE STRIDER.
I am 16 years old and about to be a sophomore in high school.
I am interested in a variety of things, such as; dead things preserved in different ways, photography, art, and music.
My style is in the ALTERNATE category. I am a pastel goth and there are people who pick on me because of it, but I mostly just shrug it off.
I hide my eyes behind shades every day, and I prefer not to show any emotion if I can avoid it.
I live with my brother Ambrose, but if I call him that he'll kill me. He prefers BRO.
He is also my guardian.
He isn't TOO involved with my life, or is more respectful of a lot of my privacy, and thus is probably not aware of my style of choice.
Either that or he doesn't care.
He hasn't commented on my pale blue and pale pink undercut with the pale blonde peeking through yet.
Or the fact that I wear upside down crosses in my ears.

Okay, on second thought, he probably just doesn't give a shit.

We live in the heat of Houston, smack dab in the middle of the ever judgemental Texas. We weren't born there though.
Well, I was.
Bro was born in Russia, where our mom originated from. Our dad was Texan though.
Bro got to live in Russia for like 6 years before he moved to Texas with mom, before I even came to be.
I was born in Texas, where I was then raised some of my life.
But because a big portion of our family was in Russia, a lot of the time was spent over there. Bro and I never minded the cold all that much though.

We both have somewhat of a Russian accent that shows if we're emotional, but in most cases the Texan accent overpowers it (our Russian accent can still be noticed if you pay close attention, but shhh, don't tell anyone!).
There are moments, when we get overstressed or such, when our accents get very clear and heavy, as well as MASHED INTO ONE HUGE FREAKIN' ABOMONATION! Anyone listening at the time will be in for a huge fucking treat.
Go ahead, laugh your asses off picturing it.
I can wait for you to finish.

...
Done?
Good.
Let's continue.
Where was I?
Oh yeah, I was just about to start the actual story.

At the present moment of our lives, Bro had just finished loading our things into the big truck, of which I was waiting in the passenger seat of.
He didn't allow me to help him, and for a damn good reason.
I am athletically inept, you could say. I'll be explaining that in a later part.
But yeah, I'm uncoordinated. Drop things, trip over nothing, bump into shit, that kind of stuff.
Let's take an example of how bad I am at that stuff. If I throw something, it tends to leave my hand when I pull my arm back, sending it the other direction.

Yeahhh...

Well, back to me. Like I said, I was seated in the front of the truck, in the passenger seat.
My knees were pulled up to my chest, my feet were on the dashboard, and I was playing games on my phone.
We were moving from Houston, to Washington.

Why?

Bullies and judgemental shits is why. They were even at Bro's job as a chef, insulting me to him, telling him that they were sorry for how I was, that I was just in a phase and that it would pass soon.

...
Well, excuuuuuuse ME for being a goddamn bisexual pastel goth, but it's not like it affects your personal fucking lives!
Ughhh.

Well, either way, Bro got sick of them and their attitudes, and decided that we move somewhere with less judgement.
Yup, up north to Washington.
I didn't mind leaving Houston in the rearview mirror though.
It's not like I had any friends left. They all ditched at the revelation of my sexuality.

I glanced over without moving my head as Bro entered and sat in the driver's seat, buckling up.
I put down my feet to buckle up as well, before I put them back up.