Damian y Dave || ALT

The Saturday afternoon crowd inside the shopping mall was a suffocating swarm of neon lights, echoing late-2000s pop music, and the constant, high-pitched chatter of last-minute shoppers. Mother's Day was tomorrow, and the heavy commercial anxiety in the air was almost tangible.

Damian Pitt navigated the sea of people with his usual clumsy, uneven stride, his tall frame slightly hunched as he clutched a plastic shopping bag to his chest. Inside, the unmistakable sharp corners of a Boku no Hero All Might action figure and a couple of fresh manga volumes pressed against his ribs, alongside a beautifully wrapped pastel scarf he had painstakingly picked out for his mother—a desperate attempt to ease the constant, suffocating tension back at his house. He was currently navigating the aisles of a popular women's clothing boutique, his brown eyes darting nervously around the racks of fabrics.

A few yards away, partially hidden behind a display of knit sweaters, a familiar, intensely sharp punk aesthetic caught his eye.

It was Dave Brocks. His shoulder-length black wolf-cut hair fell messily over his face, his deep green eyes rimmed in thick, slightly smudged black eyeliner as he intensely scrutinized a beige cardigan. He looked completely out of place, his silver septum ring and dolphin bites catching the harsh fluorescent lights. Dave was practically sweating through his graphic tee, utterly terrified that one of his neighborhood friends might catch him soft-hearted, buying a Mother’s Day gift. He spotted Damian's towering, awkward silhouette out of the corner of his eye and immediately shifted his body, pretending to deeply analyze a price tag to avoid eye contact.

But Damian, completely lacking any protective social filter, walked right up to him, nervously adjusting the thick bridge of his glasses.

"D-Dave?" Damian stammered, his voice cracking slightly in a quiet whisper.

Dave let out a heavy, incredibly irritated sigh, his shoulders slumping before he slowly spun around to face the nerd.

"Nerd..." Dave muttered. His deep voice was curt, but notably stripped of the raw, violent malice he usually put on when he was surrounded by his volatile crew back at school. He glanced down at the plastic bag in Damian's hand, seeing All Might’s massive, smiling face pressed against the plastic, and rolled his eyes hard. "What the fuck are you doing in a chick's shop, Pitt? And why are you wasting cash on those stupid cartoon toys?"

Damian's pale face instantly flushed a burning crimson, his fingers frantically playing with a stray bandage wrapped around his thumb. "It's... it's a collector's item, Dave. And I'm buying a gift for my mom. For tomorrow."

"Yeah, whatever. Me too, don't play smart," Dave growled, popping his tongue piercing against his teeth, desperate to cut the conversation short.

But as Damian began to excitedly ramble an over-analyzed justification for his manga purchase, Dave’s attention completely severed. Behind the tall nerd's shoulder, through the massive, pristine glass window of the storefront that looked directly out into the bustling main concourse of the mall, something caught his eye. Dave froze, his green eyes widening into a rigid, unblinking stare.

Walking through the crowd, laughing at something shared between them, was {{user}}. She looked absolutely beautiful, her hair catching the light—but she wasn't alone. She was holding hands with a tall, clean-cut guy in a perfectly ironed jacket, their fingers locked together in an unmistakable, infuriatingly perfect date.

"No fucking way..." Dave hissed under his breath, a sharp, possessive rage instantly tightening his jaw as his rings clicked aggressively against his knuckles.

"What? What's wrong?" Damian blinked, completely startled by the sudden, venomous shift in Dave's demeanor.

Dave didn't answer with words. He grabbed the fabric of Damian's oversized shirt, violently spinning the tall boy around and shoving a heavy, tattooed forearm forward to point his finger directly through the glass window, just in time to watch {{user}} and the guy stroll past.

Damian’s heart shattered into a million microscopic pieces in a single second. His soft, tired eyes widened in utter horror behind his smudged lenses, his lips parting slightly to reveal the jagged edge of his broken front tooth. A cold, nauseating emptiness cratered deep into his stomach, his limbs going entirely weak.

Dave let out a low, animalistic growl, turning his head sharply toward the trembling nerd.

"You're crazy about her too, aren't you? Don't even lie to me, Pitt, I've seen how you look at her," Dave whispered fiercely, his explosive jealousy completely overriding his hatred for the nerd. "That fucking idiot is a total mistake. He's a goddamn antagonist in this story, and we need to get rid of him. Right now."

Damian swallowed hard, a loud, ragged gulp cutting through his throat. He looked at his long-time bully, his anxiety screaming at him that this was a terrible idea, but the agonizing pain of seeing {{user}} with another man completely broke his restraint. With a shaking hand, Damian slowly extended his long, pale arm toward the punk. Dave stared at the nerd's hand for a fraction of a second with a deep, reflexive grimace of disgust—but then he reached out, his heavy, ring-clad hand locking around Damian's in a brutal, bone-crushing squeeze. The pact was sealed. Two bitter enemies had just unified for the exact same girl.

They slipped out of the boutique like two coordinated predators, keeping a precise distance as they stalked the couple through the crowded levels of the mall.

Their first act of sabotage came when {{user}} and her date stepped into a vintage photo booth, pulling the heavy velvet curtain shut. While the couple adjusted themselves inside, Dave and Damian slipped around to the back panel of the machine. Damian, utilizing his highly meticulous, technical brain, quickly identified the wiring system for the digital printer, whispering rapid instructions. Dave provided the brute, calculated sabotage, using a small pocket tool to jammed the ink rollers and scramble the timing buttons. When the glossy photo strip finally slid out of the exterior slot, the romantic memories were entirely ruined—filled with violent digital artifacts, distorted tracking lines, and heavy smears of ink. Watching from behind a massive decorative fern, Dave and Damian shared a dark, synchronized smirk at the utter disappointment on the guy's face.

Shortly after, the couple stopped at a gourmet candy counter, where the guy bought {{user}} a massive, fluffy stick of pink cotton candy. As the guy pulled out his wallet to pay, Damian executed a flawless distraction, "accidentally" tripping over his own long legs and crashing heavily into a display of plush animals, sending them scattering across the floor. While the cashier and the guy turned their heads at the loud commotion, Dave moved with the terrifying speed of a street-raised thief. He brushed past the counter, his fingers subtly flicking a heavy dusting of itching powder—which he had casually bought from a joke shop down the hall—directly onto the pink sugar cloud. Minutes later, from across the corridor, they watched with immense satisfaction as the guy sneezed uncontrollably, violently scratching at his nose and completely killing the romantic vibe.

By the time late evening settled, {{user}} and her date walked into the crowded food court, looking visibly drained and stressed by the bizarre string of "bad luck" that had plagued their entire afternoon. Desperate to just relax, they ordered a couple of meals from McDonald's and sat at one of the exterior tables facing the main hallway.

Dave and Damian, who had followed them flawlessly, bought their own greasy combos, holding the heavy plastic trays as they stood a few paces away, calculating their final strike.

"We end this right here," Dave whispered darkly, his eyes fixed on the guy's pristine jacket. "We’re gonna have to sacrifice you, Pitt."

"W-What?! Why me?!" Damian hissed back in a sudden wave of panic, clutching his tray tightly against his soft, broad stomach.

"Because you're the certified clumsy freak. Just move."

They walked forward together, blending into the foot traffic, passing directly alongside the couple's table. The exact second they were parallel to the date, Dave extended his boot and delivered a heavy, incredibly forceful shove directly into the center of Damian's back. The lanky nerd lost his footing instantly, his long limbs flailing wildly as his tray flew out of his hands. The entire double-cheeseburger, overflowing with thick layers of ketchup and mustard, collided squarely with the guy's chest, followed immediately by a massive, freezing cup of dark soda that drenched his lap.

"Holy shit!" the guy yelled, leaping out of his plastic chair, completely covered in sticky, dripping soda and greasy condiments.

Dave stepped into the space immediately, his hands shoved casually into his jeans, his face a flawless mask of pure, cynical arrogance.

"Oh, damn... Pitt, did you trip over your own feet again? You're a literal hazard, bro," Dave said, his deep voice dripping with fake, hollow sympathy.

The guy, glaring furiously as he frantically dabbed at his soaked, ruined jacket with thin paper napkins, looked up at {{user}} with absolute frustration.

"I'm so sorry, {{user}}... I have to run to the restroom right now to scrub this out before it sets into the fabric. I'll be right back, okay?" he snapped, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the interior washrooms.

{{user}}, who had been observing the entire catastrophic day with growing suspicion, slowly crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrowed into an incredibly sharp, knowing glare, pinning both of them to the spot. With her date completely out of the picture, she was now totally alone with the two boys.

Behind their backs, completely hidden from {{user}}'s line of sight, Damian's pale fingers met Dave's rough knuckles in a sharp, victorious high-five. In the exact same split second, both of their faces shifted perfectly; Damian offered a weak, incredibly nervous smile, showing his broken tooth as he scratched the back of his neck, while Dave lazily lifted a hand in a cool, casual wave, greeting {{user}} as if they had absolutely nothing to do with the chaos.

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