There are still times - okay, let's be honest here, those times happen pretty goddamn frequently - where Dave doesn't know what the fuck he thinks he's doing. Where he's hanging out in Gamzee's place, listening to the troll babble on about something, or watching him smear paints all over the walls, and he just thinks that he's way the fuck out of his league. What does he know about taking care of somebody else? He can barely take care of his own goddamn self.
But, then again, there's moments like this, where he walks in to find Gamzee just totally absorbed in laying down some sick beats, so much so that Dave can just lean casually against the wall by the door and watch him for a while, that he thinks...maybe he's doing something right here. The way Gamzee moves around the table is smoother, more organic than the way he moves anywhere else, and Dave thinks that's maybe a good thing. He thinks that maybe Gamzee feels the music the way he does - the way it seems to fill him up, getting into all those empty corners, the ones that are full of sharp emotions that hurt too much to touch any other way, the way the beat pulses against his skin and makes him feel in a way that nothing else can.
And the troll is good, he has to admit. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but that's not so bad. It's a style, one that's all Gamzee, and Dave has to admit that there's something about it that just makes you want to move.
Might be about time to introduce Gamzee to the clubs.
He waits for a pause, a brief lapse in the beat as it winds down, then clears his throat carefully.
No worries! This can be a slow log - mostly I just miss playing with you.
But, then again, there's moments like this, where he walks in to find Gamzee just totally absorbed in laying down some sick beats, so much so that Dave can just lean casually against the wall by the door and watch him for a while, that he thinks...maybe he's doing something right here. The way Gamzee moves around the table is smoother, more organic than the way he moves anywhere else, and Dave thinks that's maybe a good thing. He thinks that maybe Gamzee feels the music the way he does - the way it seems to fill him up, getting into all those empty corners, the ones that are full of sharp emotions that hurt too much to touch any other way, the way the beat pulses against his skin and makes him feel in a way that nothing else can.
And the troll is good, he has to admit. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but that's not so bad. It's a style, one that's all Gamzee, and Dave has to admit that there's something about it that just makes you want to move.
Might be about time to introduce Gamzee to the clubs.
He waits for a pause, a brief lapse in the beat as it winds down, then clears his throat carefully.
"Not bad, bro. Not bad at all."