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When he heard a knock on his doors Dream lifted his head from the book he was reading, he found it in some tunnel, it seemed like it was a spy chronicle. He liked those, even if he himself would never go to war. It was too much blood. He didn’t like blood.
“George! Sapnap! Go open the doors!”, he yelled, because he didn’t want to leave his place from the warmth of the fireplace where he nested himself. He had a beautiful view of the forest from there.
Few minutes passed and he heard no move from his friends that made him think that they would open the doors, so with a sigh of irritation he slammed the book onto the table, glaring at the upper floor of the house before he got up and dusted off himself so wrinkles on his clothing would be less visible. He slowly walked over to the doors, straightening his back and cracking it, just as he was about to open the doors he spotted two figures almost appear on the stairs as he opened the doors. Sneaky bastards, of course they didn’t want to have to be the ones to talk to whoever was knocking.
“Who ya yelling at Dream? Got yourself another dog?”, monotone voice was the first thing to meet him and he looked up at his friend. Techno seemed tired as ever, but there was wondering in man’s voice.
Dream just rolled his eyes, with smile on his lips: “Just Gorge and Sapnap, would be better if I got dogs they’d help me hunt.”
With that he moved out and pointed towards the stairs, where the two were perched, looking towards them.
Worried expression fell over Techno’s face as he placed a gentle hand on Dream’s shoulder: “It’s happening again isn’t it? Dream… George and Sapnap are dead. Wilbur killed them all. You gotta pull yourself out of it man.”
“What are you--”, and just like that the bright home he was sitting in became dull and faces of his friends just broke like a glass and disappeared. Only thing that held him upright when his knees gave out was Techno grabbing onto his arm.
Right. They were dead. He knew that. Of course he did. He found them. He remembered that day.
It didn’t hit him at first, when he first handed the TNT to the madman that once almost outsmarted him and all of his people. It didn’t hit him until the shaking of the ground reached the place where he set up his camp. Wilbur had told him to stay away, so he listened, yearning to be on the right side of history, to be remembered as more than a tyrant that wanted to put a stop to the new country that just wanted freedom. When the ground shook the strong fall wind carried the sound of wood and stone falling and breaking he thought nothing of it. Why would he, he expected it after all. It wasn’t until he heard the wind carry the screams that he had realized.
Only people that he wanted to keep safe from the gruesome acts of war, because they didn’t deserve to be dragged in (their different opinions can go to hell), were at the very festival he was hiding from. Suddenly his vision was blocked by George’s tear soaked face and Sapnap’s terrified expression. It seemed so real. It terrified him so much that he was stuck in one place, his body shifted towards the home that they’ve made. One he promised would keep them safe. He would never get there on time. Anything that happened wouldn’t be stopped now, but reason was thrown out of the window as he abandoned his camp without noticing it or packing it up. He knew he would never come back for it. Porcelain mask that was hanging on one of the tree branches held no meaning when he took off. He took off in the direction of the home, because he had to get there. He had to protect them. There was burning in his lungs because there was nothing tactical about his running, not like he was hunting. There was tightness in his throat, burning in his chest because he wasn’t breathing properly.
He fought with George a few days prior. He shouldn’t have, it was a dumb fight. Even though they were on talking terms, it was impossible not to be; they lived together, they hadn't made up by the time Dream left at dawn that day. Ever since the Battle of River, as Tommy dubbed it, Sapnap distanced himself from Dream. They were still close, they were best friends even before they traded roof over their heads for starlit sky, but Dram noticed when Sapnap stopped coming to him when he got hurt, it was George who would do his bandages after the younger got hurt. He noticed the way Sapnap’s goodbye hug that dawn was loose and weak, the warmth it usually left was nowhere to be found. And suddenly there was pain as his foot got tangled in a bush, the material on his jeans tore off when it made contact with the stone that was close by; skin on his knees and hands started stinging when dust entered the scratches. It didn’t hurt as much as most wounds he got, but somehow that small thing made tears gather in his eyes and all he wanted was to be home sipping on mushroom soup Sapnap made while George put small drops of potion of healing on his wounds. Now that was only a memory- he cut off his train of thought, laying a very hard slap over his own face before gathering himself off of the ground and running towards what he hoped was still L’Manburg. When he arrived there he would realize his hopes were as empty as the house in the middle of the lake that should have been home. But before he got there he hoped. He hoped so badly that he almost convinced himself that it was still there. He didn’t know that by the time he reached the first sign of their country, the light in Sapnap’s eyes went out.
He could almost see colourful flags of the festival when he reached the embassy, he almost managed to trick his mind. But as he ran through the tunnel the heart that somehow was barely beating, even though it threatened to burst out of his chest from running, skipped a beat. What once was a country that almost sent them all to their deaths when it was formed, now was a pile of rocks and broken trees covering everything up to the mountain. There was no one in sight from where he stood. There was nothing that indicated life… there was nothing to show that only people in this world that mattered were alive. Without a second thought, only kept on his feet by pure emotions, he ran. He ran even though his legs were hurting, he ran even when he couldn’t make 10 steps without missing a stone and slipping creating more scratches and cuts, he ran until he was at the festival… Or at least at what was a festival before Wilbur happened.
He didn’t see anything, if there was someone alive or dead he didn’t notice them, because they weren’t George and Sapnap. He was calm. For a moment his body was just empty before he spotted the blood on the stones and a scream tore from his lungs: “George!? Sapnap!?”
The rain didn’t help drown his screams as he looked around, looking for them. He just wanted to see a sign that they were alive, that they would run to give him a hug when he came back. There was no sign. Sickening feeling filled his stomach as he fell to his knees, his legs finally giving out. Despite that he dug into the stone, not paying a second thought that he could get his pickaxe and mine instead of digging into it with his bare hands. Rational thinking was thrown out of the window from the moment that he realized that George will no longer make him and Sapnap sit in front of him so he could trim their hair.
“Please-- Please be alive- Please don’t leave me I’m sorry-- I didn’t”, his breath broke his words, but he forced them out because it would be better to choke on his own tears than be alive in the world that no longer held the warmth of his best friends, “think it would hurt you. Please be alive.”
Out in the distance he heard the way that one of the rocks seemed to collapse and many more followed it, making a loud thudding noise in the back of his mind. He didn’t pay it any mind as he continued to dig through the rocks, throwing them away from himself like they were made of magma. His fingers and nails were already bleeding from the force it took to pull off the stone and throw it away, but that didn’t stop him. He tugged at the stone and threw it away with all strength left in him until the young sun started rising and it glared into his eyes, forcing him to finally stop and look up. He didn’t even realize that rain has long ceased. His body, so tired and tortured from all the work he put it through, forced him to sit back on his heels and look towards the sun. It didn’t have the right to look as beautiful as it was.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed long pink hair fighting against the wind, hunter instincts still trying to keep him safe from anything that might hurt him even when he wasn’t paying attention. The owner of the hair stopped in his track, walking away from where Dream was resting. With that there was a steady clank of netherite hitting the stone, mining away and making the rubble smaller. Dream got lost in it, his mind straying away. If he let his mind drift far enough he could hear Sapnap’s laughs that echoed in his memory and George’s grumbling with laughter suppressed under it. But it was just a memory. It wasn’t real.
Unsteadily he pushed himself up, because if he sat down any longer he’d never get up, he’d grip onto the hope that because they weren’t found they were alive. His best friends deserved better than that. With shaky hands he placed an Ender Chest and pulled out his pickaxe, his grip was unsteady and weak, but it was enough as he mined away. Wincing with every hit on the stone he made he dug away and he didn’t stop. He barely noticed the hunger clawing at his stomach and he paid even less mind when the man in blue hoodie joined. Only thing that made noise on that haunted day was noises of pickaxes hitting the stone. It took him several hours until he reached the ground. He was sure that he noticed pieces of clothing, but George never wore white and Sapnap’s arms were always covered with black sleeves, so he climbed out of the hole he made and walked towards a different place. With his mind straying away, focusing on anything that wasn’t THIS and HERE he tripped on a small piece of wood that sent him falling a meter or two down the hill of rocks. The pain he felt from the fall was nothing compared to the gut wrenching feeling he got when the shine of tinted glasses hit his eyes.
“No-- no, no, no please no. Please-”, he sobbed, tears finally breaking through once again, creating tracks in his mud covered face.
He reached for his pickaxe digging as fast as he could, as fast as his body would allow him to because some foolish, childish part of himself told him that they might still be alive, maybe the glasses slipped off of George’s face. George wouldn’t leave him. George promised he won’t ever leave them alone that night they ran from their village. That promise was ingrained into his mind with George, then already an adult, when he was actually taller than both of them standing over them, with their hands tightly held into his own promising that whatever happened he won’t leave them alone. George never lied. He just didn’t. George would never--.
And then he broke the final piece of stone and his world shattered. First thing he saw was George’s ever so pale face staring towards the sky, his eyes had already lost that shine they carried and became matted, some dust collecting on them. Dream always heard people describe someone who passed away as if they were at peace, but George didn’t look like he was at peace with blood that was already dry coming out of his nose and mouth and wound on his nose from when his glasses were knocked off.He shouldn’t’ve looked as young as he did. With only a few wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that Dream knew were the result of various faces the older pulled rather than age. Even if he was older than Dream he was too young to die.
Guilt filled his stomach up and he felt like he would puke what little food he had in his stomach, but as he turned his head away to look at the different side his body almost collapsed.
Sapnap’s corpse wasn’t much further away than George’s, in fact it wasn’t separated from George’s at all. Only thing keeping them away was the beam that was still crushing George’s chest even further. Teen’s entire face was covered with his own blood, there was an entire pool of blood next to his face, matting the polished stone.The boy’s hair was messy, it always was, but this was the wrong kind of messy, it had clots of dried blood, stealing away the glassy appearance it carried. Bandana that was always around the younger’s head was almost completely slipped off, medically white colour nowhere to be found under the deep red. He couldn’t look at his face even if his eyes were close, not haunting or accusing like George’s were, his face had no right looking that blank.
And that’s when he saw it. Between the two of them, just where Sapnap’s body was hunched over, George’s hand was securely holding onto Sapnap’s. It seemed as if George was still comforting the boy, making sure no one took him away with his hand protectively holding onto younger’s. George didn’t like physical fighting, it wasn’t his forte and if it were to come to it Sapnap and Dream were the ones who would keep them safe, but at that moment, moment that seemed as if it was frozen in time, George was the one protecting Sapnap because Dream couldn’t. Because he left them like a coward and doomed them to death.
And his body broke. His knees finally gave out and he fell against the stone, not paying attention to the pain in his spine as he hit it. And he cried. He cried until then silent tears turned to loud sobs that were stealing away his breath and just when he thought he had no strength to sob anymore they turned into pained screams that covered the ghost lands of what once was L’Manburg.