That moment of silence is the most nerve-wracking thing. He isn't sure how to read it, doesn't want to think too much on it - he spends it staring past Bro, his eyes hopefully obscured enough by the shades that Bro doesn't notice him staring at the ground like a loser.

The thing with Bro Strider is that if you've fucked up, he doesn't let you know immediately. He lets it sink in, gradually, through a period of time. He lets the shame slowly drown and suffocate you.

And Dave, now eighteen years old, finds, painfully, that his ascendance into adulthood has done nothing to make that idea less terrifying. That the thought of letting his brother down still hurts as much as it ever did.