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dino-cattivo · 4 months

Text

And the Epiloge

~2023~

Rose was excited as she walked next to her friend towards her house. Their peace was slow as Lydia already had a baby belly. Rose still had a hard time wrapping her head around it, Lydia being pregnant. And with hectors child no less. Rose couldn’t wait to see him again.

She was almost giddy as they stepped inside and Lydia called out to her husband. “Hector, look who's here.”

But they stopped in their tracks as they saw who else was in here with him. Morpheus. She hadn’t expected this. But then he was the king of dreams, so if anyone was able to visit others Dreams it was him.

But something was wrong, Hector didn’t look right. But it could also just be Morpheus. The man had that effect on people. His words were often harsh, but she had to remember that his actions were often not. After all, it was thanks to him, she had found Jed and had gotten him away from the abusive home he was kept in. Even though she still couldn’t get the sight of the convulsing body out of his mind as the man begged for forgiveness trapped in his own nightmares.

But for now Morpheus deserved the benefit of the doubt. It wouldn’t be right to judge just because he was not social.

“Lyta, you remember I told you about Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams?”

“What do you want?” Lydia had no trouble judging, and seeing her husband in some distress made her quite hostile.

“He wants us to leave.” hearing the resignation in Hectors voice broke Rose’s heart. They had just been reunited. This should be a happy occasion not one for tears.

“Why?”

“Because a ghost cannot escape his fate by hiding in The Dreaming. Nor can a living human being escape her grief here. Do you not see the damage your presence has done to this realm? I cannot allow you to stay.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Hector in a final attempt to keep the happiness he had found here.

Morpheus stopped at the words, clearly thinking, before he slowly shook his head.

“You belong with the dead. You must go to the place appointed for you. You, staying, it would cause irreparable damage to the Dreaming, destroy it even. Is your happiness really worth all that it would take, the lives it would destroy. All the millions it would cost their live?”

Oh. Rose had not thought of it that way, and clearly the others hadn’t as well. They had been happy. They hadn’t thought about the consequences it would have. Maybe even to the people around them like Baby and Ken.

“Can I at least say goodbye,” Hectors voice shock as he had to hold back his tears.

“Naturally. Take your time,” Morpheus included his head as he stepped away to the doors Rose had just walked through and was looking into the green surrounding them giving them at least some privacy.

Yes, he was often harsh, but who wouldn’t be if you were forced to make such harsh decision in order to save the majority. And even if this harshness, he offered some kindness, some privacy for their last moments together.

Something Lyda couldn’t see in her grief.

“No. I'm not losing you again.“

“I love you so much.”

“You're not going anywhere. Get out of our house!“

Morpheus didn’t react to her words even though he must have heard them.

“Lyta--“

“You should choose to spend your remainingtime more wisely,” that was all the reprintment he gave as Morpheus threw a look over his shoulder before returning to stare outside.

“Tell... Tell the baby I love it. That it is my wonder, and it made me the happiest man.“

With these words hectors form started to fate glowing softly in a warm light as his features relaxed. It started at his fingers and feet, they started to dissolve into golden feathers that turned black once they hit the ground.

“No. Please!”

“Dream, please, stop!” She knew it had to be done, that it would save many, but she couldn’t help crying out seeing her friend vanish like this.

“No! Hector!”

Lydia sunk to the ground crying.

“Your husband died a long time ago. He was a ghost and this is a dream.”

To her surprise Morpheus stepped forward and sunk down, but instead of trying to comfort Lydia as Rose had thought, his fingers went to the pile of feathers Hector had left behind.

Pulling back his hand, she saw some feathers softly cradled in his loose fist. But then they moved and Rose realized that it wasn’t just feathers. It was a bird, a tiny thing, looking almost like a hatchling. And then she saw his face as he looked at the bird with a soft caring expression almost lost in it. His finger careful traced over the bid, helping sort the feathers out so the poor thing didn’t look like a ball of fluff anymore.

“You monster,” Lydia screamed at Morpheus her fist hitting his legs as he was not fast enough to step back. Instantly the kindness dropped from his face as it hardened, became sharp and cold. His voice was deep and cutting as he spoke.

“The baby is yours… for now.”

“ What do you mean?“

“The child was conceived in The Dreaming. It is mine. And one day, I will come for it.”

“What?” No he couldn’t do that. It was not right. Lydia had just lost her husband, she couldn’t lose the baby to. And why? Because Morpheus was angry at her words?

“No, you won't. You'll do nothing–”

Smack!

Everything stopped as they looked at the book that after hitting Morpheus in the back of his head had dropped the floor.

Turning she saw a man standing in the door, quite ordinary looking, with brown longish hair and a leather jacket on. Someone you passed on the street every day. The man’s brown were furred.

“Lucienne will be angry at you for throwing one of her books,” to her surprise, Morpheus didn’t scream or unleash his power at the fool who had dared to throw a book at him. He just sighed before sinking down and picking up the book, straightening it out one-handed.

“And she will forgive me when I tell her what a git you are.” The man was either without fear or an absolute fool. Either way Rose was in awe.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Dream. An absolute bloody fool.”

“I’m hardly any of that things. Don’t meddle with things that are not of your concern.”

“Oh now it is not of my concern? That is not what you said last week when you tried to figure out why Merv was angry at you and you practically begged my for help.”

“I did not. Return to the castle at once.”

“I will not because seriously Dream! Her child. You come here and threaten to take her child!”

“ it is my right! He belongs in the Dreaming.”

“Well yes. After a very long and hopefully fulfilling life when time comes to end his mortal lifespan! AS in 80 or 90 years if he is lucky. Not like next week. Oh, don’t look at me like that you know exactly like you made it sound.”

Was Morpheus… pouting? Was the king of Dream honest to god being scold like a child and his reaction was to look as he couldn’t believe the whole word was turning against him.

“She called me a monster,” his voice was small, and the other's face instantly softened as he stepped closer arms open before stopping himself clearly wanting to offer comfort but unsure if it was welcome.

“And I will have a very firm talk with her about that believe me. But just because you are angry doesn’t mean you can hurt them back. That will only lead to more anger until there is no way out of the circle anymore.”

“I hate being the bigger person.”

“I know, everyone does, but someone has to do it.”

And with this he wiggled his arms, finally getting Morpheus to get close enough to wrap into a hug. Morpheus stayed stiff, but Rose could see how at least some tension left his frame.

“So like I said, we are going to take your child one day when he dies because he has kinda claim on the Dreaming. Like a prince or something. I’m still relatively new to this stuff, so don’t ask me how it works or something. But we will not take him by force, alright.”

His face was warm and his voice soft, and Rose couldn’t stop the relieved tears leaving her eyes. The baby would be alright, more so. Especially if this mystery man would also be there when it was time for the baby to go to the Dreaming.

“Now I will get this lump back to the castle, I think we all had enough emotions for today and I need to cuddle someone until they stop their self loathing. We will return with Hector once he has enough coordination to no longer smack against things.”

“What, Hector?”

“Dream?! You didn’t tell them? Natural you didn’t you stupid idiot. What would you do without me. This is exactly why I said I was coming with you.”

“But it is your day of.”

“Yeah and? Dreaming ending events kinda top my time off to catch up on reading. Which I have told you already. Do I have to get Edward involved in this, so he gives you a stern talk? Because believe me, I won’t hesitate.”

He continued nagging Morpheus or Dream as he called him, but dispute that he never let go of the other man, his eyes staying soft and full of love. They would be alright, Rose was sure of that.

For now, she had to take care of her friend who was still in shock from losing her loved ones only to find out they were not really gone.

Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name.

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt.

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared.

“Fսck.”

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him.

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace.

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him.

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth.

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own.

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance.

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it.

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone.

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone.

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done.

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked.

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them.

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch.

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived.

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself.

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room.

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end.

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee.

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day.

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life.

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart.

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them.

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned.

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob.

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight.

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head.

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this.

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value.

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out.

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his.

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job.

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet.

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face.

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed.

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this.

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it.

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises.

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon.

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately.

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist.

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know.

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep.

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it.

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery.

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully.

“So what so you want kid?”

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

“The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

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dino-cattivo · 4 months

Text

Number 5 almost done.

“Hob, you are a terrible liar and I don’t understand how no one has ever figured out you are immortal with how incapable you are of lying,” which was rude because Hob was a great liar. At least as long as he didn’t care for the other person. Once he did though the guilt ate him alive and made him unable to really convince the other.

“My friend. Well, I guess we are not friends anymore. He is out there. He doesn’t know I didn’t know.” Okay that didn’t make much sense, but Hob’s head was a mess had been ever since he had found out Georgie had used him.

“So you need to tell him and apologize. I can understand that. But how.”

Hob just fidgeted. “Okay whatever it is better spit it out, so I can wrack you, because this,” he pointed at Hob, “shows me you yourself believe it is not a good idea.”

“The Corinthian knows how to find him.”

“The Corinthian! THE CORINTHIAN!” Edward exploded, and a nurse poked her head in checking that the patient was still alright, but he just waved her off. They were getting used to them and their occasional fights knowing that was just how the two showed their affection for each other.

“You mean the crazy lunatic who gave you a stone with the intention of turning you into a bloodthirsty monster. Knowing if your friend found out about it, he would try to kill you?! That Corinthian?!”

Hob just nodded, making Edward curse. “How the hell did you survive this long? No, wait, forget that. I was stupid. How the hell did you walk on this planet without getting completely destroyed multiple times? You are supposed to run from the dangerous thing intending to cut you open? Not follow it.”

Hob just shrugged. Edward just cursed louder.

“Is there anything, and I mean anything, I can say to stop you from being an absolute fucking idiot?”

“I have to do it.”

“What you have to do is eat a freaking whole meal, don’t think I didn’t notice you dropping pounds like a lady before a beach vocation. Only you, my dear sir, are not gaining back twitch the amount.”

Okay, that was unfair. Hob was trying. He was just not starving and when he forced himself everything just came up later.

“Okay. If I can’t stop you from being an absolute idiot, I can at least attempt to minimize danger. You will call me every day to tell me you are still alive. If you do something or change location you tell me. This way I can at least send someone after you when this ultimately blows up in your face.”

Hob just nodded in agreement. Having someone that made sure he made it back in one piece and didn’t end up imprisoned somewhere was good. He wished he could have been that someone for his stranger, but the man had not trusted him enough for it. And he had been right. Hob had messed up too much for it.

Finding the Corinthian was easier, but also much harder than he had anticipated. The man was hiding pretty well, properly from Hob’s stranger, which would tear him apart just like he had the rest of the people responsible for his imprisonment. But once he realized who was following after him, he started dropping hints, a trail for Hob to follow, using things he did when flirting with Hob. It made his skin crawl remembering the events especially when it was combined with a bunch of corpses, but it helped Hob find him so he soldier on no matter how much he wanted to run in the other direction.

All while this was going on, he didn’t dream, hadn’t dreamt since the moment the stranger had disappeared in a cloud of sand. Not even nightmares, which would be a blessing, but it left him empty. He didn’t exactly know, but he assumed beside being able to offer immortality, his stranger was also responsible for sleeping or dreaming with the nightmares eh gave everyone. And not having a single dream felt like being thrown out and having the door slapped in his face. The last tender connection between them gone.

Which was why he soldiered on searching for the Corinthian.

And then he found him.

Entering the beautiful restaurant, Hob heard faint romantic music playing. It was not a place he would expect Corinthian to be, not with the trail of corpses he had followed here, but then it also suited the man and his flirting and constant pushing. he should have expected it in a way that, Corinthian would use Hob following him as chance to make advances.

But it had never archived anything beside making Hob uncomfortable just like it now, and he really wished they were in the sewers or anywhere else. Then he saw the first corpse, eyesockets empty.

Stepping inside, he saw more and more people, slumped over furniture or discarded on the floor like broken toys. The Corinthian had eaten well. Hob wanted to stab a knife inside his chest and twist.

“There you are my dear. I have been waiting.”

Turning he saw the Corinthian sitting suggestively on a table, clothes bloody while he cleaned up his knife. And Hob just froze. He had imagined how things would go, what he would say, hos he would attack the other and get revenge for his stranger after beating the location out of the Corinthian.

But now face to face he couldn’t do anything as his limbs began to tremble, and all consuming fear filled his veins.

“Me sweet Hob, you came all the way here just for me. I’m honored.”

Hob’s shock his head trying to get rid of the constant scream of run, hide, fear that were making his thoughts sluggish. He was here for a reason.

The gun felt heavy in his hand but despite his shaking his aim was truth as he pointed at it at the Corinthian.

“Where is he!”

It was the wrong thing to say as before he could pull the trigger he found himself on his back, breath pushed from his lungs and Corinthian kneeling on him holding him down. The pleased face had turned into one of rage.

“It is always him. That is all everyone ever cares about! Like he is so special. He is a nothing, was nothing and would have stayed that way if you hadn’t given him back his Ruby, but killed him like you were supposed to!”

“Shouldn’t have given it to me then,” Hob pressed out between gritted teeth.

“Oh but then how would you have known the rush of pure power, the ability to do anything. I bet you liked it. Did he have to fight you for you to give it up?”

Hob laughed bitterly. “Please, I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten foot pole if I had to.”

“That's interesting. A human able to resist the pull of power. The more I learn about you the more I want you.” Hob flinched at that desperately trying to wiggle free but hew was thoroughly pinned to the floor.

“Let me go!”

He sounded desperate, but he didn’t care as panic filled him. It could be hours before Edward noticed something was off and sent someone here. Hours of being alone with him unable to do anything to defend himself.

“But since you searching for him, I guess him finding out you had his Ruby didn’t go well? I supposed so. I may have let some things slit, told him the one with his Ruby was so interesting and so good and obedient.” That bastard! No wonder the stranger had lost it when he saw Hob with the stone. He must believe Hob had been working with Corinthian, knowing what the other was up to.

“And delicious too.” With these words Corinthian pulled his glasses of smiling down at Hob with all three months and Hob shivered.

Hob tried to free himself even more desperately. But there was pain in his abdomen and looking down he saw the knife sticking out of it. He felt sick.

How stupid he was handing himself to the monster with no way to escape and no one able to stop him because what could mere humans do against a being like this. God, he had seen what he did to his victims. What would happen if he cut Hob’s eyes out and ate them? Would they regrow? Heal like every other wound only to be eaten again?

There was nothing stopping the Corinthian from doing so over and over again until Hob screamed for death. But even then… would he? Would his stranger be kind enough to grant him that wish or would he be left at the other’s mercy for eternal suffering just being cut open over and over again?

Lips against his, teeth biting him until he tasted blood, retaliating but being powerless against the tongue shoved in his mouth deeper and deeper until he felt like he was choking. Tears run down his cheek as he struggled weakly, but the fight slowly leaving him as he grew weaker.

When he was finally released he took in a deep and desperate breath, as the Corinthian stoke his cheek lovingly.

“Yeah that's it, deep breaths. Can’t have you pass out before the fun really starts, right?”

Hob shook his head as he would love to be unconscious right about now, but he was present as the knife cut off his shirt, uncaring about the flesh that was hurt in the progress. Corinthian leaned forward and lapped the blood from his skin making him twitch, but with the floor on his back, the others weigh on his hips and his wrists pinned by one hand. Despite how skinny the Corinthian was Hob, with all his fighting strength couldn’t do anything.

He was helpless.

Unable to stop the knife from stabbing into his chest, drawing up more blood for his tormentor to enjoy. Never before had he wished he wouldn’t heal that the wound would stay but felling the others fingers in his chest, touching things no one was supposed to touch and having an itch as he healed wrong with something stopping the flesh knitting back together made him sick. He threw up.

Not that much came up as despise Edwards nagging he had let food become a second priority.

“Ah darling, don’t cry. It makes me want to tease you even more,” the tears were licked of his face and he couldn’t stop the terrified scream. But there was no one here to help him, to stop Corinthian from taking and taking and taking.

And he was good at it. Never going too far, never risking Hob passing out as his body couldn’t handle the healing anymore.

His skin was itching all over, and he felt desperately tired wanting to do nothing more than curl up and sleep, hoping all of this had only been a nightmare but knowing he didn’t have those anymore.

Would his stranger ever find out what had happened to him? Would he come at some point to finally punish Hob only to find him completely destroyed? Would he even care?

But it was far from over. The Corinthian’s hand wandered deeper and played with the hem of his trousers before Hob could hear the zipper. Fingers warm with Hob’s own blood touched his skin. He closed his eyes just crying, terrified not wanting this. Whatever he had done, how much mistakes he had made and how much he deserved to suffer for them this was too much. He just wanted things to stop.

“Corinthian.”

The dark voice coming from the entrance froze them both. Hob couldn’t see him, not with the tables in the way, but he recognized the voice. His stranger had found him. Or rather, the Corinthian.

He should apologize and beg for forgiveness and saving. But he couldn’t, throat suddenly tight as he feared what would happen if the man didn’t show mercy.

Heavy steps drew closer and the Corinthian got up, the other's threatening presence more important than Hob. Which was understandable, at this point Hob was nothing more than a crying and shivering mess while even he could feel the power rolling off the other men.

“Dream. I would say good to see you, but that is a lie. Coming to ruin my fun? And just when things were about to get good. You really know how to piss a guy of.”

“Corinthian,” The voice was cold, and Hob was desperately glad he had never been on the other end of it. The man's fury had been hared to bear, but this would have broken him long ago. “Stop this. You are meant to serve the humans. Not destroy them.”

“They had it coming. They are nothing but foolish creatures one worse than the other. You should thank me for doing your dirty work.”

An agitated huff.

“You should hate them. They imprisoned you. The one you trusted betrayed you.”

“Gadling is of no matter to this,” what? The man had trusted him? And Hob had gone and messed it up.

“Well I wouldn’t say he is entirely uninvolved in this, isn’t that right?”

The Corinthian looked down smiling at Hob just as his stranger, Dream, rounded the last table and came to a sudden stop.

“Hob,” he couldn’t read the other's eyed, couldn’t do anything else beside letting out a heavy sob, knowing how he must look. With this the man would have lost any last respect he may hold for Hob once. He wanted to roll together and hide, but he didn’t fell like he could, pain making him limb as his flesh tried to heal itself in a final attempt, keeping him immobilized before he made things worse by moving.

“What are-”

Dream’s eyes burned, his form, changed, edges fraying and turning into dark smoke as he stepped towards the Corinthian, the men’s escape attempt cut short by dark thorns wrapping around his legs and pinning him in place.

“— are you doing.”

The Corinthian laughed, but it was high. He was panicking. “What can I say. I couldn’t resist, he is truly delicious. Screaming so sweet. Since you didn’t want him and threw him away, I felt it would be a waste to not have a try.”

“After all he has done for you, you just-” Corinthians laugh stopped him as the man nearly toppled over. “Oh, that’s my best work yet.” He dropped of into giggles as Dream suddenly went stiff. “Oh poor Dream only realizing it now.”

Hob felt a hand in his hair as he was suddenly dragged up, letting in a pained cry as his body protested the movement, wounds reopening and fresh blood dripping down. He whimpered and only stayed upward because of the arm that went around his throat even if it was followed by the sharp tip of a knife against the fragile skin.

“He is immortal, but do you really want him to go through any more pain? Could prove to be the final straw, and he will beg your sister for her gift.” Sister? Who? Hob was confused thoughts, sluggish from blood loss and exhaustion. He just knew that Corinthians final attempt to safe himself was stupid. Dream didn’t care for him, Hob had made sure of that. The man didn’t care for Hob and would have no trouble hurting Corinthian even if he had to hurt Hob to do so.

But it was okay. Hob could heal. If only the Corinthian was gone he could lay here and rest. He didn’t think about what would happen to him if someone saw him in this state. He could deal with the aftermath once he woke up again.

But instead of determination or indifference Dream looked absolutely furious but didn’t come any closer towards them.

“Let him go!” His voice was commanding but even then he didn’t step closer. Did he hate Hob so much he didn’t even want to get close to him? Or was it because he was dirty, falling for Corinthians schemes.

He would fall forward and finally end this, and maybe be at least of some help to Dream if he could, but Corinthians grip was firm. But Dream didn’t need his help as suddenly he was free colliding with the ground painfully whimpering as his arms got crushed under him. Tilting his head and looking up, he saw Dream lifting the Corinthian with one hand on his throat, the nightmare struggling but unable to free himself.

“You were supposed to be my greatest achievement, but instead you have become the greatest disappointment. I should never have created you.”

Corinthians protest fell silent as the man suddenly screamed in pain and fear, his form distorting and twisting until he was gone, only a small skull left in Dreams hands. The man let it drop to the floor carelessly before a heavy boot came down destroying it.

Hob flinched at the loud sound, but it felt like he could finally breathe again. He was gone, he would never be able to touch him again. He was safe. Or as safe as he could be wounded and helpless.

But Dream didn’t just leave like Hob had thought he would. No he sunk down on the ground next to Hob and Hob closed his eyes preparing for whatever would come. He would deserve it.

He wasn’t prepared for the soft hand carefully hands, straightening him out as if he was as fragile, until he leaned propped up against the others side. He sacked against the other side craving the touch, the support the feeling of being safe. His eyes were falling closed.

NO!

He had no right. Not after hurting Dream, not before he explained.

“Sorry,” his words were broken and rattling in his chest as his own blood filled his lungs. Dream tried to shush him, but once the words had started breaking free there was no stopping them anymore.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t know. Would have stopped them. Sorry. Weak. I’m too weak. Burden to you. Should leave me. Just wanted, say sorry.” The words were a mess, and he hoped that Dream at least understand some of it, the part where he was sorry, that was the most important one. He didn’t want the other to continue living thinking hob had betrayed him.

“It’s alright,” no it was not, but it was nice for Dream to say it, to pretend for Hob’s comfort.

Soft fingers brushed the sweaty hair out of Hob’s face and looking at the other's face he wasn’t angry anymore, his eyes were soft but also so unbelievable sad. Hob didn’t want him to be sad. He reached out wanting to wipe the look away, his uncoordinated fingers missing and hitting the other’s shoulder, and he frowned at them, feeling betrayed. But Dream was really a good person. The best person, really.

He softly grasped Hob’s fingers and guided them to his cheek before turning and pressing a soft kiss against his palm.

“I’s alright now. You are safe.”

Yeah, for now he was. he didn’t believe anything could get to him with Dream standing guard over him. But for how long? How long before the others pity was outsized by his anger about Hob’s betrayal?

“Sorry. Don’t leave,” he hiccuped as more tears streamed down his face.

“I’m not leaving.” He clearly struggled with himself, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed without listening to your explanation. I put you in a terrible position:”

Hob shock his head. The other had no reason to apologize. It was Hob’s fault after all.

“Not angry. Anymore?” He asked softly, not daring to believe he was so lucky and so easily forgiven. But Dream just smiled softly and nodded. “I’m not angry at you anymore and from the start said anger should have been directed at the Corinthian not you.”

Hob couldn’t help the big smile at that. He had done it. The whole plan had gone off the rail but in the end he had managed to get the other’s forgiveness.

“Tired,” he was only able to get out before his eyes fell closed, and his body finally demanded the rest it so desperately needed. He could hear Dream's worried voice calling his name as he drifted away.

~*~

He came to as the last dregs of his dream faded away like snow in the sun, already being forgotten. But he couldstill recall fractions of calm and safety, green surrounding him, sun warming his skin and birds singing. It had been a beautiful dream.

But the last drags of peace drifted away as the slight ache in his body returned and made him recall the events before he fell unconscious, the pain the terror. He had to focus on the good, on the forgiveness he had gotten before he fell into despair and got lost in the darkness of his own mind.

Still, he didn’t want to open his eyes and see if he was still there, laying between the corpse in a pool of his own blood. But not being there would be even worse. Could be a police station as he was taken in for being a serial killer at best, could be the lab of someone trying to become immortal themselves at worse. No, he really just wanted to lay here on the soft ground for a few more moments and pretend everything was okay, that it was Edwards sofa and the last 30 years didn’t happen.

“Hob,” the voice had him upright in under a second, and he winced as pain caught up with him, and he curled into himself. The Corinthian must have left some real damage if it was still not fully healed yet. Although, he guessed he hadn’t given his body much to work with. His ability needed power, which meant food. Since he had let that fall short, it was no wonder he lacked the strength to put himself fully together in one go.

It must be the gnawing hunger that had woken him in a demand of his body to give it what it so desperately needed to make him whole again. Blinking, he found he was in a dimly lit room, the blinds behind him on the sloping roof only letting in faint light. The next thing he noticed was that the room was small or well not small, just crowded by boxes, furniture and nic nac on every flat surface including the floor. The space felt lived in, but in a messy kind of way, like the person who owned it couldn’t be bothered to clean up as long as they could still make the trip to the bathroom. Hob had lived like this once or twice when he felt depressed during his long life.

But the black leather sofa under him felt comfortable and there was an indent where someone must have been sitting regularly. The blanket pooled around his middle was soft, with a small hole at the side from constant use. It was a home.

Which was why the presence standing in the middle of it seemed so out of place. Dream with his black coat and not a hair out of place just didn’t fit in, seemed like an intruder.

Which brought him to the next observation. Dream was here, just standing there looking at Hob with concern. He hadn’t just left Hob to his fate and disappeared but taken him here wherever here was.

“Hi,” well Hob would blame his lightheadedness and the fact that he was still recovering on what he just said instead of thanking the other man for saving him

“You should lay down, your wounds, they are closing, but you are still recovering.” Hob hummed looking down surprised by the bandages wrapped neatly around his torso and arm. It was not like he could die, so he wondered why someone bothered. Maybe they didn’t want the sofa to get dirty? In regent years the family had just let him bleed until he was healed.

He cringed at remembering them thinking that must have been the first warning sign something was not okay. Edward would never have let him just bleed without at least trying to help in some way. But for Hob it had just been normal. He also often didn’t have the energy to bandage himself and rather cleaned up later, so he had not thought about it.

What surprised him even more that Dream knew how to bandage someone, with his power he didn’t think the man would know. Lifting the edge of the blanket he saw that just like his shirt the bloody pants were gone, and the skin was clean, a bit of heat rose in his cheek thinking Dream must have bathed him. But unlike his naked chest he wore pants, they were too small for him but at least he was somewhere covered.

“Do you have food,” yes Hob continued with just being an absolute delight to be around. Why didn’t he just tell the other to just go and not bother with him? That would be just as effective. But the hunger was gnawing at him and started to consume all his thoughts. The stark reminder of his past on the street, starving added some extra emotional tool which in turn caused his body to go into overdrive trying to heal him to prepare for a danger situation. Only there was no energy which only increased his panic.

It was a bloody mess.

But luckily Dream didn't look offended merely unsure? His head turned seconds before there was the distinctive sound of keys in the door.

“I have returned, and I brought takeout, hope you boys have behaved in my absence.” Hob stared at the brown haired women trying to place her, but his eyes drifted to the back with takeout containers she placed on the cabinet next to the door as she pulled off her white coat and hung it on the otherwise empty coat hanger.

“Oh my you're awake. I seriously doubted you would wake up given the state he brought you in.” Hob’s eyes flickered up to her face and he finally recognized it.

“Constantine,” the words left him in a shocked exhalation as he started at her with wide eyes. But it was her. The hairstyle was different, but her features were the same. How? She should be dead… just like Hob.

First he felt scared, since he was too weak to fight her off now, but then Dream had spoken about her during their meeting in 1889, and they seemed on good terms. Obviously since he must have given into her request and must have given her the same gift he possessed.

Betrayal filled his chest and he desperately tried to push it down. He had no right to feel betrayed. Dream had never said it was just him, it was just Hob assuming. For all he knew Dream could have someone else keeping him company every day of the year, and he still would have no right to complain. Because he was nothing special, didn’t mean anything to Dream since the man couldn’t even be bothered to spend a few hours with him before losing interest.

Hob owned the man everything, had gotten the ultimate gift, it would be greedy to want more, just because he had not been able to keep his stupid heart in check and wanted more. Wanted everything.

Still he wondered what made her so special and so much better than Hob that he had sought her out after she had tried to capture them, gave her the gift and trusted her enough to continue seeking her out. Why was Hob not worthy of it when he would have given everything for the other if he had just asked.

“Oh my.” at her shocked voice he realized there were tears running down his cheek and he whipped at his eyes desperately, trying to regain what little dignity he had left. But the tears only got stronger as he sobbed. Constantine stepped back, hands in a clear, not my problem gesture. Or maybe it was a not my fault. Hard to say as Hob was busy blaming himself for having too many expectations.

Dream sank down in front of the sofa looking up at Hob and that was just wrong, a being like him shouldn’t kneel least of all in front of Hob.

“Hob, it’s alright. You're safe. The Corinthian is no longer a threat.”

Oh he thought, yeah better let him believe it was Hob remembering his ordeal instead of the embarrassing truth of him being a jealous idiot who didn’t have his emotions under control. And it wouldn’t have worked if it wasn’t for the sudden voice that startled him since there should be no one else in the room with them.

“Mh, Boss? I think the lady is the issue? He started crying the moment he recognized her.”

Looking around, he saw a black bird sitting on a shelf. He had thought it was a stuffed one, but apparently it was pretty much alive and able to talk. Which he would pay more attention to if he wasn’t to busy trying to come up with an excuse why he flipped when seeing her that didn’t reveal what a terrible being he was.

“Ah I understand,” Fuck! “You don’t have to worry, she is not the same lady Constantine you remember. She is… an ally. There is no danger coming from her.”

He must think he expected to be attacked by her again, much better than the truth. Better be a coward than a jealous fool.

But if she wasn’t the original Lady Constantine, then who? A relative? Could be the genes must have been strong for her to look so similar, but it was not unheard of. Which made him breathe in relief. There was still the option of Dream having hundredths or thousands of other people, but it was much easier to endure as long as there was no proof, and he could pretend he was the only one.

His stomach growled, and he ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Okay I dunno what my ancestor did to you but if I give you some food will you stop crying?”

Hob nodded, because yes that was a fair deal. Or well he was so desperate for food eh would really agree to anything as long as it meant getting at least something in his belly.

When she pulled a container out of the back and handed it over with a plastic fork he didn’t think twice about possible poisoning, but just started shoving the food into his mouth only realizing halfway through what he was even eating. Chinese, greasy but good.

Only once the whole thing was empty did he look up, seeing the other occupants of the room stare at him.

“Holy shit. Are you starved,” the bird said, and Hob really didn’t like how it continued to point out all his faults. He was a bit on the thin side lately, but didn’t look starved, yet.

Pulling on his earlobe, he softly explained, “healing takes energy. When I don’t have enough energy, I don’t heal.” Revealing his weakness like this was stupid, but then, Dream didn’t need something like that if he really wanted to destroy Hob. The bird seemed to belong with Dream and Constantine hadn’t done anything even though hob was laying on her sofa, so she should be safe.

To his surprise, her eyes just flickered to the bandages before pushing another carton with food towards him. He didn’t ask any question as he also inhaled this one and the one after, finally feeling full again.

He wanted to thank Constantine for the food but with a full stomach the exhaustion was back in full swing, and he nearly fell off the sofa when he just tipped forward eyes closing, scaring everyone as Dream was barely able to catch him before he smacked into the floor. Not that this would have woken him, as he was too exhausted.

~*~

Waking up the next time, it was just Constantine with him, poking at his stomach. It made him uncomfortable to see her so fascinated with how his skin had healed. What if she now that she knew about his ability wanted the same and demanded it from Dream?

“Oh you're awake. I didn’t believe it, but your wounds are mostly gone now. Hungry?” He nodded and watched her as she got some more take out from a fridge. This time he was a lot slower, but he still finished everything she put in front of him. He needed it.

Looking around he was disappointed there was no Dream, he really had hoped they could talk, clear up things some more now that Hob was more coherent. But it seemed that now that Hob was recovering, the man had lost interest again and left.

“He will come back later. Important stuff to do in his kingdom.”

He was a king? It fit the man, he always gave of a noble aura. What surprised him more was that he would be coming back.

“Why?”

It made her laugh and Hob was confused. Was it obvious? Did he want Hob to pay him back for saving him? Hob didn’t know if he cared about human money if he had a whole kingdom, but he still had some savings stashed away he could give him.

Constantine’s laugh cut off abruptly. “You really don’t know. Shit. I know he is not good with emotions but still.” Hob could just look at her in confusion.

“He cares. About you.” A liar. Hob shock his head in denial, not wanting the hope burning in his chest to get any kindling, or he would suffer when it was suffocated.

“Don’t be stupid. You should have seen him when he came here, holding you in his arms. He was worried, demand I drop everything and take care of you. He didn’t leave your side, until you woke up. I thought he was about to cry when your wounds started healing and the bleeding stopped.”

It couldn’t be. But there was nothing stopping the flame now roaring in his chest, demanding he sought out Dream right now and hug him, maybe even kiss him. But he couldn’t no matter how much he wanted to. But it felt good, even if she was being over the top, knowing the man cared about him even a little bit.

There was a rushing of wind and looking up he saw the sand only instead of taking from him, it now made Dream appear. Hob couldn’t help the big smile on his face

“Hob. You are awake.” Hob nodded.

“Well boys, I will leave you to it then. I actually have work to do beside babysitting. Don’t burn the place down while I’m away.”

And with this she was off to do god knows what. It felt a bit awkward without her, just them in a room. Hob didn’t know what to say. Should he apologize again for his actions, thank Dream now. He didn’t know.

And for once it was Dream who broke the ice and reached out first.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. Wounds almost gone, a few more good meals, and I’m back at my old self. Thank you, for taking care of me.”

“It was the least I could do after what my creation did,” his face twisted and Hob could see anger burning in his eyes. Despite Corinthian being gone, the man still wanted to take revenge. It should scare him but instant it pleased Hob.

“He is gone now, and I’m still here, that's all that matters.”

Dream just hummed and sunk into the sofa next to Hob in an unusual human display.

“That you are, and I’m lucky for that.”

Hob snorted. “You are the lucky one? I believe that's me. I can not believe that after all I did you are still giving me the time of day.”

Dream winced. “You did nothing wrong. I saw it in your Dreams. You were used, turned against me without your knowledge and made to suffer all because of our connection. From the start, you were part of the Corinthians plan to hurt me. And I let him succeed by lashing out.”

Hob gasped at him.

“Forgive me, I have been a terrible friend. Only lately after… I have started realizing that perhaps my way of thinking has been too harsh. That I have turned away from humanity. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, not now and not in 1889 when you told me something I was not ready to hear yet. Because you were right. I was lonely.”

“It is not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is me. I let them use me. I made it way too easy for them. God, I killed so many, and I can’t say who deserved it and who was innocent. You were right, calling me rotten. I have become someone who I can’t stand. Most days, I can’t even look in the mirror anymore. I don’t know right from wrong and question all my decisions.”

He had started crying again, and how shameful was that. It felt like all he did nowadays was cry. He really didn’t understand why Dream even bothered with him anymore, the way he was now. There must be many others out there that were better than Hob, more entertaining and less broken.

Dream seemed thoughtful before slowly holding out his hand for Hob to take. It was far from the hug Hob so desperately wanted, but it was something, and he griped the hand like a lifeline.

“Hob you are good.”

A wet chuckle.

“You sound like Edward. Shit! I need to call him. he must be worried sick.”

Hob was about to jump up and search for a phone, so he could contact his friend before he did anything stupid like not finishing his physical therapy, so he could have a fighting chance of one day walking again. Dream stopped him slowly pulling him back down on the sofa.

“You should rest.”

“I can't, he must be worried.”

“This Edward… seem important to you.” A strange question for Dream but Hob just nodded frazzled ignoring the intense gaze at that.

“He is my friend. Well, actually he is more. He always stood by me and believed in me no matter what I did and how I pushed him away.” The wind outside was picking up and Hob craned his neck wondering if it would rain soon, the thunder in the distance sure made it sound like it.

“I… He,” Hob had a hard time putting things into word. After Georgie and the fuck-up that had been, he didn’t want to overstep again and end up hurt, but there was only one way to describe how he felt about Edward. “He is my brother in anything but blood. He is family. I love him.”

Speaking it out loud didn’t make everything fall apart suddenly, and a bit of a weight fell off his shoulder. he had feared putting the label on it, admitting to it would break things apart, but it was fine.

Surprisingly no rain came, the wind even disappeared, and clear moonlight fell through the blinds the sky suddenly clear It was weird, but as a true Londoner he was used to the sudden change in weather.

Still he was restless and only after finding Constantine landline and calling Edward did he calm down. The man cried in his ear, having already feared the worst when he sent someone to check on him, and they found the police turning the restaurant into a crime scene. He had searched for Hob fearing someone had taken him but found no clue. No wonder since the restaurant had been in Europe, and now he was back in London, and he sure hadn’t taken a plane with his wounds.

He assumed Dream had used the sand to transport him. He had to reassure Edward he was fine multiple times and that he made up with his old friend and was staying with him to recover before Edward calmed down a bit. Still, Hob had to promise to visit him soon, so the man could make sure he was really alright. There had been more promises of daily calls.

When it came to Edward wanting to send money Hob put his foot down. He had enough stashes of cash all over London and didn’t need the others' money. In the end he compromised and told Edward that a Constantine was paying for his food while he stayed and gave a rough address based on what he could see through the blinds.

Edward would have her name and everything else there was to know about her soon including her bank account and would be sending cash there. It made Hob feel less bad about eating all the food and Edward was basically vibrating being able to financially supporting Hob even if it was in a roundabout way.

Hanging up and turning he saw Dream smiling at him, the soft smile that made Hobs knees weak and made him want to lean in and beg for the others lips on his. An impulse that was pushed down again. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.

“You are close. You remind me of me and my sister.”

Hob nodded remembering something. “Corinthian. He mentioned your sister.”

“Yes Death. We are close, she always wants what's best for me.”

Death… Dream. Their names were unusual. But Dreams name reflected his power which means…

“Death. She is the one who gave me my immortality?”

“It seems I must once more ask for your forgiveness, as I have failed to explain things properly. Death my sister, is holding back her gift from you keeping you in the land of the living,” Okay Hob had never seen death as much of a gift, but he assumed for some it must be.

“So why did you meet up with me when it was your sister giving me immortality?”

“It was,” okay now he looked uncomfortable. It was surprising how human Dream had become after his imprisonment, how easy it was now to read him. “A wager. I didn’t believe you would continue to want to live after 100 years of the filth on earth. But you surprised me over and over again. It was entertaining in a way, and then I had gotten so used to meeting you I couldn’t stop anymore.”

He looked defeated, head hanging, like he expected Hob to be angry. But Hob just laughed. Laugh and laugh until his ribs hurt, and he had to hold his side. “What?”

“Sorry, it is just. That is just something that happens to me. Two cosmic beings bickering and me ensign up with immortality.” He smiled brightly at Dream who still didn’t get the comedy of the situation but relaxed, and Hob couldn’t help but bump their shoulders together, still riding his high.

When Dream froze up he quickly pulled back not wanting to make the other uncomfortable, but after a moment Dream himself leaned sideways and their shoulders touched. It felt special, like a cat sitting on your lap and demanding pets. Like being chosen, and Hob’s heart swelled as he just basked in the other’s presence.

After that, it really only took some more meals before Hob was back on his feet. Meals Joanna as he learned was more than happy to provide after finding Edwards generous donation in her account.

But then the time came to say goodbye. Leaving Joanna was easy, they got along well enough, but they weren’t especially close, and they had exchanged numbers, so she could call him if she needed to drunkenly complain about something. But saying goodbye to Dream was harder.

He stood there under the streetlamp ready to wave down a taxi to the airport, not wanting to say goodbye.

“So that's it. I guess, see you in 2089? Or is it 2123 now?”

God, how had he managed to survive 100 years without seeing his stranger? Even 66 years without Dream seemed too long. If he could, he would not be apart from the other for a single second.

Dream cleared his throat, another human gesture he had recently picked up.

“I was wanting to talk to you about that.”

Please don’t let him want to break contact with Hob. Please. Hob didn’t know how he would manage if he had no meeting he could look forward to. Last time he ended up on a killing spree and out of control.

A heavy hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and the frown on Dream's face showed his episode had not gone unnoticed.

“You are human,” that was true, yes. “And it has come to my attention that I lack such humanity and understanding towards my emotions. Which was one of the main causes for my predicament, as my pride forbid me from asking for help. I was hoping that perhaps you would be willing-”

“Yes” Hob didn’t let him finish even though it was rude. The, mere thought of being allowed to be of use to the other excited him.

Dream looked at him in surprise, as if he had expected Hob to deny him. As if he could do something so cruel. Dream deserved the world, and if he only asked, Hob would do anything in his power to give it to him.

Suddenly hob got nervous as an idea popped in his head.

“I don’t trust myself. I’m afraid, constantly, thinking the moment I slack I will do something bad, end up sliding into old ways. I was thinking-” he didn’t really know how to ask, how to describe what he needed.

“Would you need my advice in a situation where you are unsure if your decision is morally acceptable.” Hob nodded eagerly at that glad the other understood his wish.

“It would be a pleasure.”

Hob couldn’t help but smile as a taxi came to stop beside him. he didn’t have much luggage beside a small backpack, so he just held out his hand for Dream to take, squeezed it as he slowly leaned in, giving the other enough time to pull away and hugged him briefly.

Stepping back he was surprised as Dream didn’t let him go, his eyes deep and concerted before he leaned in and let his lips brush over Hpob’s forehead.

“I will see you in your dreams, Hob Galding.”

Hob knew that with Dream that was meant more literally than you would expect, and he was already giddy with the prospect of seeing the other again. He smiled like a fool as he got into the car not even the driver rolling his eyes and muttering bloody romantics could bring down his moot.

Something Edward noticed the moment he stepped inside the facility in Spain, and Hob ended up pushing Edwards wheelchair around the park while they talked like schoolgirls giggling and whispering. It felt good freeing. Especially when Edward revealed he made good progress and would soon be able to change to crutches. He would always have a limb, but he would one day be able to walk around with just a cane and be able to return to a normal life.

A few days later when Hob closed his eyes falling asleep on the bed next to Edward, much to the nurse's annoyance he instantly knew it was no normal dream. He recognized the place even though he could not recall ever been there. The wide open fields, the green and the clean air. It was beautiful, and he leaned down his fingers brushing over the grass in joy.

“Hello Hob.”

He spun around big smile on his face. “Dream.” He couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward and hugging the man. He had missed him so badly the past couple of days.

“I have missed you my friend.”

“I also have longed for your company.”

It made Hobs heart swell. As they started walking side by side through the fields, their hands occasionally bruising but no one pulling their own away until their fingers ended up intertwined. Hob was happy, could have laughed and cried in pure joy.

“I have called upon you for a reason. But it is not that I just want to make use of you,” Hob sobered up instantly looking worriedly over at Dream who was clearly struggling with what to say.

“Dream if there is anything I can do to help I’m more than happy to do so.”

“What do you know about Dream Vortexes.”

“What is a dream vortex?”