Work Text:
Dream’s mask has been the reason for much gossip through the years.
The people around him liked to wonder what exactly he hides behind the smooth ceramic, and why he hides it. The only people alive who know how he looks without it are his two best friends and his dear General, and they all have swore to never tell a soul about it.
And that is exactly why Dream now looks at the white mask with heavy eyes. The beady eyes stare back at him, unfeeling and judgemental enough to almost prompt the man to harshly censoring it. But he’s not insane yet, despite being alone with his thoughts and the elements for a month now, and the mask will provide him no answers.
The mask was a gift given by someone the blond shall never remember enough to know, and it has been with him since he first opened his eyes. His memories of the past are foggy, he can’t remember his parents or his village, but he remembers the smooth ceramic. He remembers drawing the eyes and the smile. He remembers Sapnap’s excited exclamations and George’s curious questions. He remembers it protecting him from the world, and the world from him.
It is the most peculiar thing, really. Not once he had to change it or even replace it, the mask practically molding itself to his growing features. There are no holes in it, yet he can see perfectly. All those years, and it still hasn’t broken once, and any cracks that appear on it are repaired without intervention from external forces. All three—later four with Wilbur—had shrugged it off as it being an enchanted item.
Looking at it now, Dream feels the end of this particular hole might be lower down.
No matter, right now he has a decision to make.
Anxiety harshly stings his insides at the mere thought of parting with it.
However, it’s too risky to just wander with it. One glance from the wrong person and he’s doomed. Only four people in the world know his face, the entirety of L’manburg knows his mask, plus the various villages he has visited before. It’s a no thinker.
The sound of footsteps brings him out of his thoughts. In a rush, he packs his things in the makeshift leather bag he made earlier. His hand hovers over the mask, bitter bile rising to his throat as his mind rushes through possibilities.
It’s the voice of his dear General that makes the decision for him.
His body answers to Wilbur’s voice much like a fox answers to a wolf’s growl. He runs and he hides. It’s hard to climb a tree with a heavy bag and too much anxiety, but he manages to perch himself on one of the lower branches just in time for General Wilbur Soot to come by his now vacant camp.
The blond watches in shaky silence as the other man gets near.
It’s been an entire month without seeing the man but in his dreams—and nightmares. The mind can be a cruel thing, bringing to the surface memories of the happy past he can’t have anymore and delusions of the future he won’t have. Not a day has gone without imagining curly brown hair, shared laughter and warm looks. Images of Wilbur haunted the blond as much as his past best friends, maybe even more.
He figured it was because Wilbur didn’t give chase right away as Sapnap and George, and so he concluded that seeing the General again would bring forth emotions his rationality couldn’t name.
Instead, his heart does its usual somersaults, as if the current situation matters not.
Wilbur looks as good as always. His curly hair pokes out of his beanie, asking to be played with, and even pressed together in a tight line, his lips look delicious. The uniform is flattering, very much so, and gives the man an air of certainty, like all of Dream’s problems will be solved as long as he is with Wilbur. The sword on his hip glints under the setting sun, bringing memories of friendly sparing and tired post-training napping.
God, he wants to go to the General so badly.
Instead he holds his breath as the brunet notices his mask, laying innocently at the middle of that clearing.
General Wilbur lowers himself on one knee, grabbing the mask tenderly. Were he anyone else, Dream certainly wouldn’t notice the shaking of the man’s hands from where he’s crouching, but he is, in fact, Dream and his vision is definitely not in the limits of humanity.
“Dream...?” Wilbur wonders out loud, and it takes everything out of the blond not to answer to his General. “He left it behind…? No way, he loves this thing.”
Gentle hands caress the ceramic mask, warm brown eyes getting distant, most likely lost in memories green eyes have been desperately trying not to look at.
“Dream?” Wilbur calls out this time, looking around, sitting down on the harsh grass. “You must be close by, right?”
I am, Wil, I am right here.
“I… I hope you can hear me, right now, because I have something to ask… I know you couldn’t possibly have committed that crime, it’s not your thing. You’re not a traitor.”
Oh, Wilbur, your faith only makes my heart jump.
“The others… they’re confused, and if you’re angry at them… well, it’s fine, I am too. They should know better. They should know you better.”
Oh, believe me, anger is definitely one of the things I feel right now.
“I may not be in the position, but I have a favor to ask. President Jschlatt is planning something, and I know that he has something to do with your situation, but I can’t do much right now, I need proof to bring him and his corrupt puppet show down. While I do that… and, believe me, it hurts to say this, but… don’t even come near L’manburg, under any circumstances. It’s too dangerous for you there.”
“Close your eyes.” It’s a stupid idea, the stupidest he has even had.
“Dream?” The other man’s head snap to his direction, eyes searching in the thick vegetation.
“Close your eyes, General.” But he can’t help himself.
Wilbur hesitates for a second, probably sharing Dream's fear of it all being a trap, but closes his eyes. Dream gets down from the branch with a soft tud, putting his bag down so he can swiftly approach the one his heart sings for. A few steps and he’s kneeling in front of Wilbur, eyes committing the view of this beloved man to mind.
He leans in.
Dream is not the “hopeless romantic” type. He has never expected his first kiss with Wilbur to be much like a fairytale. Probably something casual, like talking to each other and one of them just kisses the other, or maybe an accident, Tommy and Tubbo shoving them together.
He for sure didn’t expect it to happen on what is probably the day he’ll see his dear General for the last time.
The lips against his are warm and hungry. Wilbur kisses him with desperate enthusiasm, bringing Dream so close to his body the blond has no other choice but to sit on his lap. Dream answers in kind, hands grabbing curly hair and pulling. Their feelings are raw, they kiss like they’ve been holding back from doing so since the beginnings of time, and like they will never get the chance to do it again until the end of time.
They separate with heavy hearts and heavy breathing. Wilbur keeps his eyes closed for a few more seconds. Before he can open them, Dream covers them with his hand.
“Don’t.” He whispers, still a bit breathless. “Don’t look at me. If I look at your eyes, I won’t be able to go.”
“Good thing, probably… If I look at you, I might just go with you.”
“You can’t! L’manburg needs you, General.”
“So do you.”
Dream can’t resist, he brings their lips together to another intense kiss. The feeling of Wilbur’s body pressed against his is intoxicating and he’s almost getting drunk on the other man’s warmth. All he wants is to make himself small enough to be swallowed by the other’s embrace, away from everything and everyone. They break apart just as breathless as before.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know. But still.” The General smiles, confirming that Dream covering half of his face is a great decision, since that smile alone almost crumbled whatever resolve he managed to build this last month.
He needs to change the subject.
“So, the President is behind this?”
“Yes. He has a glint in his eyes that can’t mean good things, and he was really passionate in his speech about hunting you down. That’s why I am asking you, Dream, to not step foot in L’manburg until it’s safe.”
“What if you need me?”
“Oh, always.” Dream snorts at the goofy grin he gets, muttering about stupid Generals. Wilbur’s smile falls. “Right now, I need you to be safe. Jschlatt will not hold back if he ever gets wind of where you are, so go far away, where no one can recognize you. Once it’s safe, I’ll go looking for you.”
“I feel like a coward.”
“If you return, you’ll be stupid.”
Silence falls on them, broken only by the rustling of the trees. Nighttime is coming, and they need to move soon if they don’t want to encounter any monsters, or get caught by the group that definitely has followed Wilbur in his journey to find the “criminal”.
“I have something for you. It’s in my breast pocket, I’d get it, but… well…” Wilbur smiles cheekily, hands squeezing Dream’s waist.
Shaking his head, the blond shoves a hand inside the General’s coat. Once his fingers hit something hard, he pulls it out. It’s a dagger, small enough for him to be able to carry it everywhere. The hilt is of gold and steel, and the sheath of leather is simple but well made.
“It was supposed to be some sort of courting gift.”
“Courting…? How old are you, a hundred years?”
“I was going to confess. I had it all planned… our first date… our first kiss...”
“Oh, Wilbur.” And if these tender words sound a little shaky, then it’s their secret to share. “I love it. Thank you, I’ll keep it with me at all times.”
“... can I look at you?”
“Wilbur…”
“Please, can I be selfish just this once? One last look at your pretty eyes so I can build a dream on and will myself through what’s to come, that’s all I ask.”
“... aren’t you a poet?”
With a sigh, Dream moves his hand so it’s now resting on Wilbur’s cheek. His breath hitches as brown eyes pierce directly into his. Brown eyes he has missed so much this last month. They’re deep and filled with so many emotions the blond is almost overwhelmed. Some part of him still can’t believe someone—much less Wilbur— can look at him like that.
Yet here he is, the proud General Soot of L’manburg, staring lovingly —lovingly!— at him like he’s something precious.
“God, I will miss you.” Wilbur’s kiss is not as passionate as the previous ones, but slower and dragged out. Savouring. “Definitely gonna miss this.”
“Idiot.” Dream smiles. “The faster you deal with Jschlatt, the faster I come back and once I’m back, we’ll see to that date… so you better get off of your ass and start marching, General.”
That said, he gets up, going against every impulse telling him to go back to Wilbur’s arms. Just in time too, as they can hear Tommy yelling something in the distance. Sapnap’s voice answers Tommy’s screeches—people who think Dream’s eyes are inhuman clearly don’t know of Tommy’s lungs—and it feels like Dream just swallowed a rock.
He gives his General one last longing look.
He turns.
He runs.
Leaving behind his mask.
And his everything.