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jaywaslost · 2 months ago

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Schrödinger's Paradox

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE @asukamood!!!!!!

In your honor, Dream has been hurt✨️

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Sypnosis: Sometimes he still feels like parts of him are stuck in the statue he became so familiar with. Cemented to the ground, solid, leaving him hollow with a duty too big and a mind that can only take so much.

For the first time in his life, that night, Dream prayed.

Word count: 3.5k

Trigger warnings?: dissociation, brief reference of child neglect

Everyone has a limit.

Every human, monster, and those in between.

There was only so much one could take before they broke. The mind is a weak, weak thing. Ever so capable, yet the ease at which it can be broken down is baffling. One traumatic experience after the other was all it took to leave someone a shell of what they once were, and it wasn’t like that was hard to achieve.

Dream knew that very well.

A person whose life had been planned out from the very beginning, a lamb to the slaughter since his first breath.

For a guardian of positivity, he was far from being optimistic about his predicament. It’s quite difficult to be once you run out of things to use for distractions, 500 years and counting, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt in control.

Maybe it was the day he woke up from his stone prison. Merely a child, trapped in stone by the one he cared for the most. Very few moments left Dream feeling as helpless as he did back then, although there wasn’t anywhere to go once rock bottom was hit.

He remembers worrying about his brother’s whereabouts that day, uncertain and afraid of everything around him. Nothing looked the way he remembered, the land was barren and the village (or what used to be one) was reduced to nothing. The woman who freed him sounded strange, but she was the only other live presence near him.

Dream remembers trying to understand what she said, waiting for his chance to speak and ask where his family had gone- where everyone was, they wouldn’t have abandoned him so suddenly, would they? H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶l̶y̶ u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ y̶e̶t̶.

When his eyes landed on the stump of the tree that once contained his mother’s spirit, time felt like it had frozen.

Between the throb of his aching limbs, the ringing in his head, and the sheer horror at the sight before him, he could no longer concentrate. He didn’t notice the lack of oxygen in his system until black spots had begun to cloud his vision, head heavy and heart aching. The woman yanked on his cape in an attempt to get his attention back,scoffing as he fell without a word. T̶h̶e̶ g̶l̶a̶r̶e̶ s̶h̶e̶ g̶a̶v̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶a̶r̶ t̶o̶o̶ r̶e̶m̶i̶n̶i̶s̶c̶e̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶s̶ f̶o̶r̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶.

She introduced herself as Lanny, a supposed friend of his mother’s, an ‘aunt’ of his. The name felt slightly familiar, but it rang no bells.

It was safe to say she made sure he’d never forget her after that.

As if his confusion and fear weren’t enough, her words stung like knives. She didn’t take long to tell him what he missed, straight to the point, like she always is.

“Your brother is dead.”

Dream refused to believe her at first, in fact, he had laughed at her words. Her glare sharpened as the situation truly sunk in, his mind bringing all the memories from before his ‘coma’ rushing at him.

The villagers chanting, his brother’s screams, the sickening sound of bones shattering, his pleas, he wanted to throw up.

His last words.

“Don’t forget who I used to be”

Don’t forget who I used to be.

Ḏ̴̢̱̩̩̙̜̘̯̣̰͎͖̖͇̂̇̈́̂̈́̈́̊̃̂͒͐̌͝O̸̡͙̤̠͙̻̭̖̲̲̣̖͉̒̃̔͐̏̔Ń̶̡̨̧̹̯͔̼̝͓̻̫̪̜̒̎̅̓͊’̷̛͔͎̼̽́͒̆̀͒̇͐̇̀̕͜͝͠͠Ṱ̴̨̙̝̱́̒̈̈́̄͆̈́ ̴̘̲̘̓͊͝͝F̶̠͈̹͔̫̰̈́̓͋͒̅̀̏̋̆̑̍͝ͅƠ̴̡̮̖̺̟̟̈̈́̀̍̀̔͐̍̐̆̕͜͝R̸̢̛̫̳̬̗̠̣̗̿͝͠Ǵ̷̡̙̩͔͎̼̞̻̫̫̬̜̽̈́̽͌̽͊̀͂̀͆̽̄͝ͅE̷͈̥͉͓͙̞̓̌͊̈͐̾̆̃̾̽̈ͅͅT̵̡̢̬̜͉̣͈̖̟̟̟̻̼̳̿̓̏͗͋͑͌̔͘-̵͖͓̪̹̈́̂̊

He never felt so lost in his life.

Maybe it was the first time he felt another person’s feelings instead of his own.

Emotions are a complicated concept but one he considered himself good at understanding his entire life. T̶h̶a̶t̶ i̶s̶, u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ i̶t̶ a̶c̶t̶u̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶. H̶i̶s̶ i̶g̶n̶o̶r̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ l̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶, h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ d̶e̶s̶e̶r̶v̶e̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶a̶i̶n̶.

It was during the first ‘lesson’ Lanny had given him. The woman didn’t explain her reasoning, nor did she truly teach him anything.

She would attack and he would need to defend himself, a moment of hesitation would simply mean the end.

If it were just physical he could’ve handled it, he wasn’t normal by any means, but being unbelievably disoriented with the new sensations did him no favor.

He paused, he tried to ask for help, clarification, but all he got in return was a mouth full of blood and more bruises.

To put it simply: she was ruthless. By the end, he was sore all over, more disoriented than he was before.

It did him no good, it felt less like training and more like he was getting beaten up everyday as a way for her to take her anger out. She constantly reminded him how he was part of the main reason his mother was forever gone, he couldn’t deny it either. Selfishly, he wanted to believe he did nothing wrong. She was his mother, she was meant to be there, yet she never was.

Part of him understood why Nightmare had decided to cut her, and it made him feel like the worst person alive.

She wasn’t fully alive, she wasn’t capable like they were. They existed only because of that, no more, no less. To carry out a job she was too weak to do alone because of those around them.

She never wanted children.

I̶f̶ a̶ g̶r̶o̶w̶n̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ h̶a̶n̶d̶l̶e̶ i̶t̶, w̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ h̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ s̶i̶x̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶ o̶l̶d̶ c̶h̶i̶l̶d̶r̶e̶n̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶?̶

Maybe that was Lanny’s way of making him repay her, for all the trouble he had put her through, all the problems he caused and never even tried to fix.

Simply paying the price for the pain he caused.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶ c̶h̶i̶l̶d̶. S̶h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶s̶a̶n̶d̶s̶ o̶f̶ y̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ o̶l̶d̶. S̶h̶e̶ k̶n̶e̶w̶ b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.

His body felt like it was on fire, the first day he couldn’t help but cry to himself. It hurt, his chest felt like it was going to burst, but he couldn’t stop.

The tears didn’t stop coming, making everything worse.

Eventually, they stopped. His energy was lower than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to rest. It was unbelievably cold, all alone without anyone near him.

No one to sit by, no one to speak to, no one for comfort.

He had to grow some tolerance to the cold, as Lanny said. If he was going to survive he needed to be able to handle some weather conditions or else he had no chance.

As time passed, he found himself tracing cracks in his bones.

Being a statue for so long doesn’t come without consequence. Stone withers, so did his bones. Tiny parts of his fingers had been chipped off, lengthy cracks down his arms and some even reaching his legs.

Ironically enough, his face, if not counting the damage Lanny did, was untouched.

His clothing and gloves covered all the damage, the pressure they put on his bones helped him ignore the sensation a little more easily. It wasn’t like they’d heal for a long time, but he had no choice there.

Sometimes he still feels like parts of him are stuck in the statue he became so familiar with. Cemented to the ground, solid, leaving him hollow with a duty too big and a mind that can only take so much.

For the first time in his life, that night, Dream prayed.

Never once had things gone easy, but he was desperate for a change.

He had always been the desperate type, though.

Hadn’t he?

The most familiar feeling to him was a sense of hopeless desperation. It was the only part of himself that he could pick out when his own feelings were overcrowded by other people’s in his vicinity.

A need he choked on constantly, a yearning on the tip of his tongue that he never truly got out.

He ignored the way his hands went numb, his knees scraping against the ground, blood seeping from every wound left on him. He wasn’t sure how long it was that he stayed in that position, but in the safety of only his own presence, he poured everything out.

He begged as tears rolled down once more, begged that this would all end soon and that he would go back to how things used to be before.

What he would give to take away all the pain his brother had gone through.

He could handle it, he deserved it, he’s the reason for the way things ended up.

If he was a better sibling, if he tried harder, if he spent more time with him, maybe they would’ve still been at the tree, laughing with eachother.

Maybe their mother would’ve been there.

Maybe the villagers would have been nicer.

Treated them better.

Heartbreak followed him wherever he went. A defining part of him. He had plenty to be heart broken about, didn’t he?

The loss of everything when his life had just begun.

He never got the chance to live, never had his first friendship, never had a home.

He never even got to understand himself before everything crumbled.

It left a gaping hole inside of him, one nothing could fill.

Time passed, Lanny left him alone, but the effects of her actions lasted.

It wasn’t until he came face-to-face with the monster that had taken his brother as a vessel that he understood.

Understood the true impact his actions had.

The reason for her insistence.

The malice in her voice.

The most naive part of him believed his brother was still there. That maybe, just maybe, he could have the final conversation he wanted so badly with the other before everything crumbled, but all he got instead was a sickening sense of grief.

A sense of impending doom.

It took him what felt like an eternity to breathe again, but even then, the air felt unbearably heavier than before.

T̶h̶e̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶n̶ f̶r̶o̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶m̶ w̶a̶s̶ i̶n̶ n̶o̶ w̶a̶y̶ h̶i̶s̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. I̶t̶'s̶ s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶s̶, t̶h̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ i̶n̶ i̶t̶s̶ e̶y̶e̶, i̶t̶ s̶h̶o̶o̶k̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶s̶ c̶o̶r̶e̶.

W̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ h̶e̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ i̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶ f̶a̶l̶l̶ a̶p̶a̶r̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶?̶ H̶i̶s̶ f̶r̶a̶g̶i̶l̶e̶ h̶o̶p̶e̶, u̶n̶a̶n̶s̶w̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ p̶r̶a̶y̶e̶r̶s̶, t̶h̶e̶ w̶e̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ o̶f̶ i̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶ l̶a̶i̶d̶ i̶t̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶.

Fighting the very thing that turned his life upside down left him severely unsettled, that much was to be expected.

What wasn’t though, was the way it left him even more dazed than he had been for years before.

It claimed the name of his brother, but the idea of referring to it by that made him feel worse.

If it were a one time thing, he wouldn’t have been so shaken up, but the frequency of these encounters after Lanny had left him never left a chance to rest.

It didn’t take him long to realize it was hunting him down specifically.

H̶a̶d̶ i̶t̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶?̶

Every interaction left Dream feeling more distant than the last, like he was watching himself in third person. Always present, but not quite there.

With time, it became easier to retaliate, but the grief never left.

Every scar was a reminder of his failures.

Every word imprinted in his head.

Maybe, if he had learned of things earlier, he wouldn’t be fighting a parasite with a familiar face.

One wearing the past so clearly.

The world faded into a haze, it hurt less that way.

The idea of interacting with others whilst he was constantly chased sounded both exhausting and like more trouble than it was worth. Despite that, they never seemed to leave him.

His presence was comforting by nature, even attracting animals to him since he was a child. People would be no different. I̶s̶o̶l̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶, b̶u̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶r̶a̶v̶e̶d̶ i̶t̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶.

It wouldn’t have been such a problem if some of them didn’t become so..obsessive.

They wanted to feel good, he made it easy.

A simple prospect.

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶e̶g̶i̶n̶ t̶o̶ c̶o̶u̶n̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ n̶u̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶ h̶i̶m̶, t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶s̶, e̶v̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶s̶e̶l̶v̶e̶s̶, t̶o̶ g̶e̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ t̶o̶ s̶t̶a̶y̶.

N̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ o̶n̶c̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶e̶r̶s̶p̶e̶c̶t̶i̶v̶e̶ c̶o̶n̶s̶i̶d̶e̶r̶e̶d̶.

He didn’t get a say, he owed them it.

He was their guardian, if he couldn’t provide them the positivity to keep going with their days, who would?

If he wasn’t happy to do so, who would be?

If he wasn’t happy, how were they meant to believe they could ever be?

It didn’t matter what he did, said, wanted, none of it mattered. He had to stay and play the role he was assigned.

If not him, then who?

He didn’t need their comfort the way they needed his, he had time to get over it all.

He didn’t need companions, his presence was bound to catch up and hurt them eventually.

It was never just him.

When it finally did, some accused him of intentionally leading ‘Nightmare’ to them.

Intentionally harming them for everything.

Too selfish to help them, he tried to ‘get rid’ of them.

He didn’t argue, guilt made its presence known, but it had finally given him reason to go.

T̶h̶e̶ a̶c̶h̶e̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ h̶i̶s̶ a̶r̶m̶ h̶a̶d̶ p̶r̶e̶v̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ m̶a̶d̶e̶ h̶i̶m̶ m̶o̶r̶e̶ l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ h̶e̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ h̶e̶'d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ a̶d̶m̶i̶t̶. W̶h̶a̶t̶ a̶ w̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ f̶i̶n̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ r̶e̶s̶u̶l̶t̶s̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ h̶e̶s̶i̶t̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ L̶a̶n̶n̶y̶ w̶a̶r̶n̶e̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ s̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶s̶t̶.

In his daze, he didn’t focus on where he went, portal after portal to go somewhere far from others.

It wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder and spoke that he realized how far he’d gone.

The other was unfamiliar, a face Dream hadn’t encountered before, nor did they seem to recognize who he was.

With a smile on his face, he introduced himself and asked about the place.

His question was answered quickly, but before he could ask their name back, he was getting dragged somewhere by his other arm.

T̶h̶e̶y̶ r̶e̶a̶l̶i̶z̶e̶d̶, d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶?̶

To his surprise, the other’s actions were caused by concern.

He was injured, yes, but it wasn’t easy to tell (with the exception of the arm he was missing as of mere moments ago. It wasn’t like it was bloody, his magic handled that very quickly).

They introduced themselves as Swap, but said to just call them Blue.

Without question, the other began helping to dress his wounds.

Despite protest from Dream, Blue refused to let him leave hurt as he was. He couldn’t do anything about the glaring problem, but he wouldn’t just stand by.

D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ p̶a̶n̶i̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶, t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ o̶f̶ h̶o̶w̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ m̶e̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ r̶e̶p̶a̶y̶ t̶h̶e̶ d̶e̶b̶t̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶.

He came up with an excuse to leave quickly after, which the other had let him do quite easily.

O̶d̶d̶l̶y̶ u̶n̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶e̶d̶.

He retreated to a barren universe, unexpectedly finding Lanny waiting for him.

She ‘replaced’ the arm he lost and disappeared just as quickly as she came. A one time thing, according to her.

An archer is useless without both their arms, he’d be of no use the way he was.

That day was far from his last encounter with Blue, it seemed that every event from that point on pointed him towards the man.

In some weird twist of fate, they had become friends.

Dream had many doubts at first, how was he to know he wasn’t being used once again? Whether it was for things to be done or to feel good, he’d seen it all.

Over and over, Blue proved himself to be truly honest about his reasoning.

No ulterior motives, he didn’t care for what Dream provided, he cared for Dream alone.

It was strange, he refused to believe it for a long time.

The day he decided to take the risk and trust that, a weight was taken off of him.

The other stuck by him, he wanted him for him, he wouldn’t dare burden him.

The same way he used to as a child, he ran off every time he needed to express an emotion that was considered ‘wrong’ of him.

He couldn’t destroy the one friendship he had.

Vulnerability destroyed his mother, his brother, if he were to show it, it was a matter of time before it destroyed him too.

He had to be strong. There was a point to it all, he had to believe it.

If he didn’t, there was no telling how much longer he’d be able to hold on. He’d cling onto the belief, even as his hands went numb and the light died out.

He was never in control, he wouldn’t ever be.

The only decision he ever had to himself was where he let his heart out.

That was the case, at least. Until he was discovered that was.

R̶e̶m̶i̶n̶i̶s̶c̶e̶n̶t̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶ N̶e̶i̶l̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶i̶r̶s̶t̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶, e̶x̶c̶e̶p̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶ s̶o̶ a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶. o̶n̶e̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ m̶a̶n̶y̶ l̶o̶s̶t̶ b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ h̶i̶s̶ i̶n̶a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.

It was a familiar face, Blue had stumbled upon him while he was meant to be on a walk.

Every step he took towards him, Dream moved backwards.

He was discovered at his worst, that was it.

Despite how Blue stopped trying to approach him, Dream’s mind was racing to come up with an excuse for the situation.

He couldn’t speak.

It didn’t feel real.

He wondered, maybe for the 10th time that week, what it all was.

He was playing a game he could never win.

He felt trapped in his own body, watching his movements like a puppet rather than a person. A ghost, watching his life play out until he saw his corpse at the end and realized he was dead the entire time.

He couldn’t run.

He felt insane every time.

He didn’t put a name to this repetitive issue of his. He would need to confront it otherwise, it’d become too real.

C̶a̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ i̶t̶ d̶i̶s̶s̶o̶c̶i̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶s̶, l̶i̶k̶e̶ i̶t̶ d̶i̶s̶c̶r̶e̶d̶i̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ w̶h̶o̶ t̶r̶u̶l̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶ p̶r̶o̶b̶l̶e̶m̶. H̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

They ended up sitting together in silence, Dream trying to calm his racing mind as Blue stood far. He never asked anything, Dream was grateful.

They never spoke about that day again.

H̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ u̶s̶e̶f̶u̶l̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ w̶o̶r̶t̶h̶y̶ o̶f̶ b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶, h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶-̶

H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ d̶o̶ i̶t̶.

H̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ w̶a̶n̶t̶ t̶o̶ b̶e̶ d̶i̶s̶p̶o̶s̶e̶d̶ o̶f̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ y̶e̶t̶.

They were back to normal for a while, Dream was more careful about his decisions.

Never again did he rush somewhere without checking his surroundings a million times for people, not just danger.

It was until Dream himself seeked the other out that either of them talked about anything.

Originally, they wanted to hang out for some time, but their conversation strayed.

The topic? Feelings.

Dream stayed quiet for the majority of it, his responses concerned with other people’s rather than his own. W̶a̶s̶ i̶t̶ b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ f̶e̶a̶r̶?̶ o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶ f̶a̶c̶t̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶r̶d̶l̶y̶ t̶e̶l̶l̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ a̶p̶a̶r̶t̶?̶

Blue switched between asking, talking about things he's seen, and other times about some parts of him he had never shown anyone else.

If it was an attempt to encourage Dream to talk about his own, it was somewhat helpful. It was the most seen he's felt before without saying a word. Funnily enough, they had some very specific shared experiences Dream couldn’t have put into words if he tried.

He was close, very close, to saying more.

Ultimately, he stayed quiet.

If Blue noticed, he let him be.

I̶f̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶, n̶o̶ o̶n̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶. D̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ t̶o̶ p̶r̶e̶t̶e̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ i̶f̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶s̶ o̶w̶n̶ s̶a̶n̶i̶t̶y̶.

About halfway through the conversation, he had started to reflect.

He never wanted to show anything besides happiness around others, motivating them more than he could do for himself.

He spent years trying to bury the part of him that pleaded for another person, to for once be comforted rather than blamed or being the comforter.

It never worked.

Everytime he cried, it felt like he was faking it all. He had his good days, it felt audacious of him to act miserable when he had what may be considered luxury to some. He had many years ahead of him, others were robbed of theirs early. He could get better c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶e̶?̶,, others died miserable.

And yet, it felt as if he told anyone, it would negate all his misery. All the years he spent alone, everything he went through, it wouldn’t sound as bad anymore. It felt like being happy betrayed all the time he spent questioning if he should’ve ever existed to begin with. It felt like it would betray all the guilt he carried for so long, like he never cared.

He didn’t want to get better.

Not saying anything back felt unfair, but the idea of revealing the darkest parts of himself was more terrifying than that.

As a way to compensate, he decided to take off a glove of his.

The one that covered his actual arm, all of the cracks and chips being on full display.

Blue went quiet at the sight, Dream didn’t dare break the silence. The other ended up taking his hand and tracing every crack as gently as he could.

Dream had never known what it felt like to be handled gently before.

The concept was foreign to him.

Another ironic part of him, isn’t it?

For a reason he didn’t know, he wasn’t as terrified as he felt before.

It didn’t mean he would change his mind, but it was comforting.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he wouldn’t be so flawed.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he’d have been okay.

Maybe, in another lifetime, he will be okay.

B̶u̶t̶, n̶o̶t̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ o̶n̶e̶. N̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ o̶n̶e̶.

H̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ t̶o̶o̶ m̶u̶c̶h̶ t̶o̶ d̶o̶.

T̶h̶e̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶ p̶o̶s̶i̶t̶i̶v̶i̶t̶y̶, d̶o̶o̶m̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ a̶ l̶i̶f̶e̶ o̶f̶ m̶i̶s̶e̶r̶y̶ u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ i̶t̶ e̶n̶d̶e̶d̶ a̶n̶d̶ h̶e̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶v̶e̶d̶ i̶t̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ t̶h̶e̶ v̶e̶r̶y̶ b̶e̶g̶i̶n̶n̶i̶n̶g̶.

Maybe, in another life, he wouldn’t have been so conflicting.

Maybe.

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h0n3y-b33z · 1 day ago

Text

Happy birthday to the apple twins and I. As my gift for them, they get a story.

Enjoy.

508 years since is was born.

500 of those years I suffered. I was alone. No one had cared. Abused , alone, a folks story people would tell their children.

Why am I still here? Just to suffer?

"Boss! Open up! We need to eat eventually!" Killer yells through the door to the office, banging his fist on the old wood.

Damnit Kilz not again-

"boooossss plsssss! Murder isn't letting us eat until you do! Birthday rules or som-" Killer pauses, unfortunately remembering the day. It seems his memory is getting better atleast. Two years he wouldn't remember until Christmas.

Killer giggles, tugging the handle to the locked door. "oh bossy~! It's ya birthday!” Killer coos, taking his favorite knife out, running his index finger along the edge.

"don't remind me. Tell everyone I will be downstairs in a moment." The king informs him, rolling off his bed (which is a fake bookshelf that converts into a bed.)

Nightmare yawns, the balls of his feet hitting the floor and sending a static feeling up his legs and his knees locking. Of course... Two tendrils go to massage his knees and femurs.

This is getting ridiculous... Nightmare mutters to himself, the feeling in his legs dying down. This was the third time this week. After a few more minutes the pain is bare able and he stands up and walks to the door.

No need to change when you slept in your clothes.

In the dining room the table was set with all of Nightmare's favorite foods and beverages. Wine, coffee, pie, pancakes, turkey dipped in the most mouth watering sauces and other savory things you would expect to see on Gyftmas. Not a birthday.

Killer groans, reaching out for the jerkey that was just out of reach. The result was Murder slapping his hand. "Damnit bunny just let me eaaaat!" Killer whines, his tears staining the vintage wooden table again. Killer was one of the few who had a seat just for him. Furthest from Nightmare where all the silver tear stains are.

"No kitty... We wait for mare mare." Horror says, brushing the fur on his jacket. He needs to look his Saturday best! Killer glares at Horror, tempted to throw a knife at him. "aint talking to you wolfki" He mutters, using the insult varient of the brute's nickname.

"c0uld y°u st0p." Error mutters, munching on a chocolate wrapper. 'To get all the chocolate goodness' he told Swap. Which was mostly true. Murder sits still, dissociating from the world.

"gods what do yo- oo wine." Nightmare brings everyone out of their brooding as he sits down at the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of vintage Italian wine and pouring a genorous amount into his birthday mug.

"Th€ gh0$ts 4®€ back. B33n 4-4n0¥y1ng m3 n0n $t0p" Error complains. Flicking away another pesky floating ded rat. Error is surrounded by floating objects. Plastic knifes and forks, a spatula and a dirty whisk. Error is glitching out alot.

Nightmare looks at the whisk, eye socket narrowing. "you made cake..?" He questions, growling softly at the batter falling to the flour covered floor. "we maDE CAKE?" Killer pipes up, grinning from eye socket to eye socket.

"ye-yes... T-teeth and Enough made it." Horror murmers, picking up his fork and fiddling with a grape in the salad. Murder looks down, a larger shadow casted on his face. Killer shrugs, reaching for the jerkey. Murder slaps his wrist again. "that vegan s[..]t is in the oven." Murder informs, stopping the recently vegan Killer.

"oh." Killer stands up, grabs his plate and dashes to the kitchen to get his beloved plant based jerkey. Nightmare groans, glaring at the most mentally sane of the grou. "you know I'm not a fan of cake, Murder." Nightmare says, dishing a healthy amount of turkey onto his plate. Once he finished dishing, Horror and Murder started dishing. Killer returns with his jerkey, mouth watering black ooze.

"hey you started dishing without me!" Killer when's and darts to the table to dish his greens. Who know all it took was a vegan teacher to get the dumbass to eat his fruits and vegetables? Although now he won't eat meat and sh[iz] now...

Goddammit Colour... Why did yo give him access to the internet...? Nightmare wonders, chewing on his delicious turkey wing. Horror speaks up "It was Aliza's Idea... She's coming over later to celebrate too." Horror informs him. Nightmare stares at him, disbelief and silent disdain on his face. "your daughter... Wishes to celebrate my birthday?" the king questions, gaining another nod from Horror.

"Dream visit...ed. Brought food. I told him not to work on his birthday. Aliza heard." The brute further explains, mouth full of pie. Nightmare rolls his eyelight. She shouldn't care. He tells himself. "y0u® g1rlfriend l3ft 4 ll3t ter. " Error says, handing a letter with a dusty snake symbol on it. It was the the stamp She made just for him.

She is his equal. His other half. Sure Nightmare is gayer than Icurus, but She is his. He is hers. He smiles softly, opening the envelope. Inside was a letter wishing him, her kraken, happy birthday. Even suggesting a date for the two of them and their little fetaherbaby.

Nightmare smiles, noting that he should write a reply letter later. Possibly arrange a flight to Greece to see his queen. He engulfs the letter in a burning flame of purples and blues. He continues to eat. The food is nice. Just how he likes it...

Maybe my birthday isn't a waste...

"Oh great guardian! Happy birthday!"

Again and again, those were the words he heard today. Seemingly a broken record.

"Great guardian, we need your help!"

That was a sentence he heard almost everyday.

You would think that after the truce Dream would finally be left alone. But nooo. It was great guardian this and great guardian that. It was tiring. He's supposed to be retired!

Dream sighs, getting a snake named Fluffy down from a tree. Lil Fluffy the anaconda slithers into his body, hugging him. Dream knows it is a hug because Fluffy broke his bones once and felt guilty as hell. Dream climbs down, looking down at his recent friend, a 8 year old girl who wears brightly colored hand made punk clothing.

"thank you Lemon Boy!" she says, gently holding her arms out so that Fluffy can slither back to her. Emily is one of the few Dream would want to go out of his way to help. He likes helping her. "no problem little Rockstar! Run off to your parents now, I saw them by the toy bikes." Dream informs, running his hand down Fluffy's scales.

Maybe I should get a snake... He thinks to himself. The companionship would be nice. Maybe he could get a black mumba! Those get to like 10 feet long, I could raise it from a babe! Cold things are nice things. The creature would love Dream's body heat. It's naturally high.

His phone pings. Then another ping. Likely the groupchat again. Wait didn't I mute that-? He thinks to himself, taking out his phone and opening his chats. It was Swap and Lust. His friends. Another ping came when Red and Edge messaged, then another from Cinnimon. All saying happy birthday. Dream smiles at the texts, replying with some difficulty.

The one day I forget my glasses... He sighs and puts his phone away, lazily moving his hand in a circular motion to open a gden glittery portal. He steps through and heads to the lounge, flopping onto the couch with a grunt.

"Someone's had a bad day." Reaper says, sipping his coffee. Dream lifts his head from the couch, looking up at the bringer of Bad deaths. "no s[..]t Sherlock." He says, catching the hot water bottle thrown at him "f[..]k you Watson." Reaper shots back, stretching his 3 pairs of wings.

"Still wondering why you don't want a private birthday party kid." Reaper informs, putting his mug down and grabbing his scythe, his 6 wings merging into 2. Dream shrugs

Dream says, clutching the water bottle.

Reaper chuckles softly. "awe, my baby boy has grown up since I found him." Reaper coos, checking out the baalde to ensure it is fit for reaping. Although it was never on paper, Reaper adopted Dream after finding him in that abandoned AU the kid o me called home.

He looks up at the demi-godling. "want to come with me for work? My gift." Reaper says, summoning the toy scythe he made for Dream when the child guardian asked for one. Dream looks at the scythe and sighs, stnwifng up with a smile. The scythe was nothing to be scared of, made of dead pyrike (frozen wood) and is smaller than Reaper's, but it means the multiverse to Dream "sure."

Atleast Dream can help people cross over to the underworld instead of silly little things he doesn't like.

(done. I the colors of their speech thingies represent the soul traits! Although I didn't have YELLOW for Dream. Hope you liked the insight on my UTMV)

#dreamtale #apple twins #dream sans #nightmare sans #dust sans #killer sans #horror sans #error sans #reaper sans #my birthday #short story

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