In the Knight Time (Dave Strider x Reader)

Chapter 5

READER’S POV

 

When you woke up, you were back in the familiarity of your [f/c] bedroom. Which was weird, because you could have sworn that you were in the kitchen the last time you were home. But then again, where were you in between then and now?

 

You get out of bed and walk into the hallway leading to the kitchen. As you pass by Bro’s room, you noticed that he was no longer present. Not that that was abnormal.

 

As you walked across the apartment, you could tell that something rushed had occurred. There was a bunch of stuff thrown about (not in the normal fashion) and it was oddly quiet in the house. Too quiet.

 

"Dave? Bro?" No answer but the hum of the refrigerator. Then, a quiet thump from the back room. Dave's room. Cautiously, you tip-toed your way to his room. You weren't ever supposed to go in there without permission, and never had before - except for that one time you were looking to see what color his eyes were. You stopped at his door. A large red door to be exact, with a newly painted smuppet on the front courtesy of Bro. Though you knew Dave well, and thought of him to be your only close friend, the door that stood before you was menacing. You had been in there before, yes, but only in the dark of night, and that had been for one goal, after which, you promptly left. The decision to intrude was tearing at you. Should you go in? What if he was just chilling with his earbuds in and his music turned up loud? He would hate you for sure. What if something's wrong with him? Maybe he's hurt and can't call for help. You would feel terrible if he was in pain and you had done nothing about it. But the real question was... Why did you care so much?

 

Throwing away all nerves about what may happen, you slowly opened the door to Dave Strider's room. The lights were turned off. Looking around in the darkened room, the decor of the room did not surprise you. The floor was still littered with cords for all his electronics. They were all hooked up to the same outlet, of course. Your eyes followed the cords up to Dave's computer, where the screen was blinking with the notification of a new pesterlog. Probably John or Rose, but you were too polite to look. The blinking screen cast an odd light on the dark room, and you could see a figure in the bed covered with the suits of cards.

"Dave?" You whispered quietly across the room. You walked over to the bed. There he was, in the clothes he was wearing earlier today - and yes, he did still have his shades on - passed out on the bed. You looked over at the clock: 2:15pm. Too early for a nap, you thought. What was he doing asleep so early in the day?