This. This is a story. It's not just a fanfiction from the Homestuck community. This is a story about self acceptance and figuring out that just because you're different doesn't mean that you're broken. If you have the time to sit and read 48 thousand words, then read this because I, myself, have never been so moved by a story before. Please give this author the praise that they deserve.
I could write endless versions of this conversation, and have even written one recently, but I decided to have a bit of fun for the week of johndave, do a confession of a slightly different kind, and revisit an old AU in the process.
Your name is Dave Strider, and you’ve been able to sing a rainbow for six years now.
You’ve known John Egbert for two. It feels like much long- like forever, honestly. You can’t remember a time before he was in your life, the time that existed before you spoke to John daily, though you remember when it was only shades of grey meeting on a screen and blurring into one mass of quick-fire sass and barely disguised affection.
Now, though- Now you know what John sounds like. The way he snorts and then collapses into giggles or stuttered guffaws. The way he pauses after a joke, when if you strain you can hear him wheezing little laughs to himself, muffled like he’s covered the microphone to disguise it. The way his voice sounds like sunshine and even when he’s upset he still manages to make you groan with bad jokes and worse pranks.
It’s been a revelation in the best and worst ways, and you’ve come to realise three simple truths about John Egbert.
One, that he will be your cause of death, and that one day Bro is going to bust in to find you collapsed on the floor from the traumatic force of John’s lame humour.
Two, that this boy is your best friend in all the world, the person you want to meet more than any other, and that your attempts to sketch him from his descriptions are not enough of an outlet for your building need to see him.
And three:
If John Egbert isn’t part of your rainbow, you don’t know if you’ll ever recover.
It takes a long time for you to figure out how to approach it. You’ve been terrified of broaching the topic, honestly. Hey dude, I’ve got a fucked up soulmate thing going on which is going to take way more time to explain than any rainbow should.
How do you even begin to explain it? That not only have you already got two single coloured soulmates, but they’re both... related to you, and you definitely, absolutely, do not love them like that. That you want John to be your soulmate but you’re not even sure if that means the same thing to you as everyone else- you just know he’s important, and you want the world to validate that, to make him just as big a part of your life as you desperately want him to be.
And if he gets his colours from someone else, that’s okay. You’re okay with that.
But- if he gets them from you-
How can you ask him to treat you like his whole world if he’s only a fraction of yours?
You’ve rehearsed it a thousand times. Hey John, so, here’s a crazy idea, what if we were a fate-decreed Thing wouldn’t that be swell? Hey dude I love being a couple of bros but imagine if we were bros who bro’d for our whole lives I mean what a wild concept.
Hey John I think I want to hold your hand and hang out all the time and you live the other side of the country and I don’t even know what you look like but sometimes I lie awake in bed and think about the day I hug you for the first time and how warm and real you’re going to be.
Your finger flinches away from the call button and you slap both your hands over your face and groan. You’ve been sitting here for an hour making excuses when John asks why you haven’t started the call yet. Everything from Rose needs me to get something to a crow just flew in my window can you believe it.
John does not, in fact, seem to believe it. He knows something is up, that much is clear, and the constant digital pencil scribble and eraser rub are making it painfully clear he’s deciding what to do about it.
You have to beat him to the punch.
Can’t spell hue with you, John. Can’t hug without two sets of arms. Can’t ask knock knock without a who’s there.
I’ll be the glamorous assistant in the magician’s act of your life, John.
You can be my backup dancer any time.
Shit, these are awful. You drop your head to the desk and whine, raking your fingers through your hair. Come on, Dave! You can do this. You’ve got this. Just ring that asshole and drop a sweet line about you being a freak of nature who’d like John to be included in the mess of a future life has planned for you.
Do it.
You do not.
Instead, you jump a mile when John calls you first, the rhythmic tone making you scramble for your earphones and shove them in as you fumble to pick up. Soft static greets you, a silence that draws on long enough you’re considering asking if he’s even there, before John clears his throat awkwardly and you hear the low creak of his chair.
“Wow. Is it? I had no idea it would be you when I specifically called you.”
“Shut-” You stop and take a deep breath, remembering this isn’t the time for a sass match. This is the time for action. “Yeah, sorry you were left with the harsh responsibility of pressing that button, I know it must’ve strained your precious piano fingers to breaking point.”
“I’m applying a splint as we speak. Dad will be scandalised when he sees I had to click a whole one time with his precious musical investment.”
“A tragedy, honestly. How will I sleep at night knowing my hesitation brought such wanton destruction down upon your deft digits?”
“I’m not sure you’ll ever sleep again.”
“A worthy punishment.”
You both pause, before John sighs, humming tunelessly like he does sometimes when he’s thinking.
“Hey, Dave?” He’s asking it carefully, you can hear the concern that’s absent from his voice because of how pointedly he’s disguising it. “Why... did you hesitate? You usually jump on calls, even when I’m not ready! Um. Is something up, today?”
Here it is, then. The moment of truth.
“John,” you start, before you can think better of it, and then veer left as something hits you before you can reach your own confession. “Why have we never talked on video?”
You know why you haven’t wanted it on, know what you’re holding out for, but John’s never asked, or pushed, or even questioned why...
John goes very quiet. You can hear him breathing, before he laughs, strained and quiet.
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“I’m asking, so it can’t be that obvious.”
“Well, I-” John stops, swallows. “Oh man, I wasn’t expecting to have this talk this soon.”
Your throat constricts tightly, and you honestly can’t tell if it’s with hope or fear. Everything seems too loud, suddenly, the quiet of the room pressing in from all sides and leaving your pulse pounding in your ears. This wasn’t how it was meant to go, this wasn’t anywhere in what you’d practised. You were the one who was going to explain, the one who always thought about this stuff, not John. He’d never mentioned colours, never mentioned seeing you, he couldn’t think about that stuff, could he?
“What talk is this talk, John?”
“I thought you’d be suspicious but you never actually asked so I guessed I was getting away with it. The video thing.” He mumbles something too quiet for you to hear, then continues, “I’ve thought about asking to see you a load of times, dude. Constantly. I’m pretty sure what would happen if I do, which is weird! Dad keeps telling me I can’t know that for certain but I just... I guess I feel it, or something! Even when we talk sometimes I think I see flashes.”
Oh.
You wheeze softly with the effort of keeping your breathing steady, a maybe turned into a reality you’re rapidly realising you weren’t ready to face. John thinks you’d be his colours, but you don’t know what to do. John thinks you’re his rainbow, but you can’t give him that back-
“I didn’t know how to ask if you feel it too,” John rushes out when you stay silent, “and it’s okay if you don’t! It’s okay! I’ll figure out what to do and maybe I’m wrong and even if that sucks I’m okay with it, just... Just please don’t stop being my friend, whatever happens? I can get over not being your rainbow, I promise, but I don’t want it to mess up you being my best bro because that’s... That’s better than any rainbow, I know it.”
You’re going to pass out. You grab your apple juice and down the whole bottle in three quick glugs, hiccuping as you slam the plastic to the desk and catch your breath.
“John.” Your voice is a little hoarse but you can do this, you have to do this. “I need to talk to you about my colours.”
“Do- Do you already have them?” You’ve never heard him sound so nervous. So crushed. “Shit- I’m sorry! I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, I knew-”
“No, no, no, stop,” you catch him, shaking your head to the screen like he might see. “No, you’ve gotta listen to me, okay? And... please don’t freak out at me. Please?”
“I’m not going to freak out any more than I already am.”
Well, at least he’s honest.
“I... I already have some colours,” you hazard. You hear his pause, and push on before he can interrupt, “just orange and violet. Um. I started seeing violet after I met Rose, and- Orange is my cousin, Dirk.”
“That isn’t how colours work,” John tells you after a moment, and you snort out an ugly laugh.
“I know, John. Oh, I fucking know.” Of course he thinks you’re wrong, everyone does, everyone’s always questioning you like you don’t know yourself better than they do. Something ugly tightens in your chest. “Sorry. You think I’m your rainbow or whatever but then it turns out I have janky-ass broken colours or something! Guess that’s not what you wanted to hear. Sorry,” you say again, rubbing at your eyes when you feel an all too familiar sting in your nose.
John doesn’t say anything for what feels like way too long, the seconds dragging by as another hiccup creeps out of you. Fuck, you’re not going to cry over this, you’re not. It was one big anticlimax and you feel stupid, but you’re sitting hear tearing up anyway, hating yourself every moment of it.
You knew you wouldn’t be enough. You knew.
“Sorry.” You’re reaching for the mouse to end the call, because being alone would be better than listening to his strained breathing. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“Dave, wait-”
Against your better judgement, you do.
“You have... Orange, and violet?” John takes a breath when you mumble a vague agreement. “Okay. I’m sorry, Dave, I’ve never heard of that happening, but if it’s happened to you it must be real.”
The words hit you first. Not if you say it happened, if you think it happened. Just... if it’s happened.
John believes you.
“You think I’m- You think it’s true?”
“Why would you lie about something like that? It’s important. There’s some things you don’t joke about- even I wouldn’t joke!” It’s a promise, earnest and sweet. “Just because I didn’t know about it doesn’t mean it’s not the truth! And I trust you, Dave. I trust you.”
You’re going to cry but it doesn’t hurt anymore, and you splutter before trying to keep it in, keep it cool. You’re totally in control. You’ve got this.
“And it’s... okay? I mean, I ain’t sure how many colours I can give but it won’t be everything, so I know it’d be kinda unfair, but I-”
“You want me to be your rainbow?” John asks in awe, before catching himself, correcting- “part of your rainbow?”
“No shit, Egbert. That was what I was going to talk to you about up until you stole my thunder and copped to it first.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Eloquent.”
“Hey, not all of us have a million words waiting to go at all times! I should’ve known something was really up, you haven’t used a stupid metaphor all night.”
“Well-”
“That was not an invitation to start now!”
He’s wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. You hate that you’re smiling even as you feel so watery. You hate that after the admittance you’ve been losing sleep over, John’s already got a smile back on your face.
You never want this to end.
“I want you to be part of my rainbow,” you tell him, and the words feel good and light, and the fact he might understand the part of means more than you can say. “And I wouldn’t mind being part of yours.”
John’s grinning, you can hear it, and someday you’re going to find out what it looks like, find out what colour it shines.
“Can’t spell hue without you,” John hums, and you’re so happy his terrible pick up line doesn’t even get the groan it deserves.
The song starts off very mellow with a instrumental country vibe with Gene Chrisman (on drums), Reggie Young (on guitar), Mike Leech (on bass), & Hubert (on flute) comes in, then all of a sudden the rhythm changes and gets aggressive on a powerful riff with the horn section (Garnett Brown & Tony Studd on trombone, Ernie Royal & Marvin Stamm on trumpet / flugelhorn, and Art Clarke & Seldon Powell on saxophone) and string arrangements by Bob James. At the two minute they break it down to the mellow vibe again but only for a few second before it gets funky once again and rides out. Other musicians playing the song Bobby Emmons (on organ), Bobby Wood (on piano), violins played by Lewis Eley, Paul Gershman, Gene Orloff, Matthew Raimondi, Sylvan Shulman, & Avram Weiss; and on cello is Charles McCracken & George Ricci.
#the odyssey
#art
#ao3
#star wars
