Bro was not a happy little camper right at that moment. He'd not meant to have a fight with Dave. He didn't even want Dave to know he'd had a fight with anyone. But what did he expect? If he expected Dave not to want to see him before he and Dirk went home, he was stupid. But he'd not counted on having a fucking bruise on his cheek, either. There'd be no hiding the fact Bro had been hit.

But it didn't stop him from trying though, and he'd put a very large amount of concealer on his face to try and hide it. Whether or not it worked, he wasn't sure. He'd not had a mirror, and he'd been in a hurry because Dave was so pissed that he didn't want to just make it worse by taking his time. There was also some weird powdery shit that had gotten onto his clothes that he didn't know the name of. So his shirt was stained tan in spots

Maybe the fact he was wearing makeup was pretty obvious, when you really got down to it. But he was oblivious. He had too damn much on his mind to really care. Makeup was supposed to be goddamn magical, okay? If chicks could do it, he could hide a fucking bruise. He was Bro Strider, and he could do anything.

Except face his son with a bruise on his face.

He stopped in front of the hospital wing door, pausing for far longer than he probably should've. He was nervous, because god. It seemed like every time he and Dave's relationship was getting better, something screwed it up. He'd came here for Dave, he'd not meant to start a fight. Why'd everything keep going to shit? He was getting tired of it.

With a shake of his head, he pushed the door open and headed to Dave's bed.