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Fundy liked to dance and Dream liked to fight and they mixed the arts together perfectly.
They were partners in crime that danced and dodged and weaved between warriors and lashed out at sovereignty. They were quick and cunning, knowing the limits they could hit but even then sometimes they messed up.
It wasn’t supposed to be a big fight, they were just messing around and carelessly crossed a border. Dream didn’t think it was that big of a deal but soon they were confronted and attacked by a border patrol.
Dream pulled out his weapon and immediately jumped into battle, Fundy right behind him.
Dream mumbled a song as he twisted around an opponent, he had been practicing the tango to do with Fundy, he knocked their sword out of their hands. They scrambled back and ran off, Dream didn’t think much of it and continued fighting.
Fundy got knocked down once but he jumped right back up so Dream assumed he was fine. They were starting to get the upper hand against the group when more people were racing up to the group.
Dream realized that person who ran just went to get back up and that he and Fundy were outnumbered.
Upon realizing that they were at a big disadvantage and they started to retreat, running back over the border and into the forest.
They had gotten a decent distance away when Fundy started to lag behind. Dream stopped, looking back, “Fundy! Come on!”
Fundy leaned against a tree, head low, his shoulders shaking.
“Fundy?”
Then he sank to his knees.
Panic gripped Dream's chest and he rushed forwards. He kneeled next to Fundy and realized with horror that dark crimson was splattering his shirt and there was a gaping gash along Fundy’s side.
“Shit shit shit,” Dream pulled at Fundy’s jacket, trying to get a better look at the wound. It was deep and grotesque, stretching along the hybrid's body, dirt and dust getting in the wound would cause
infection.
Dream pulled off his hoodie, bunched it up, and pressed it against the gash. Fundy yelped, back arching, Dream flinched as he kept pressing down. Fundy’s chest was heaving and Dream’s hands were stained and sticky as he shakily pulled out his communicator and sent an urgent message to George and Sapnap, sending his location as well.
He looked back at Fundy, who was staring at him with glassy eyes. Dream leaned forwards, one hand cupping the back of Fundy’s head and the other against his uninjured side.
Fundy smiled, blood showing against his teeth, “That was kind of stupid, got carried away-” He coughed, flinching as it pulled at the wound.
“You’ll be fine, just hold on for a bit, George and Sapnap are coming.” Dream was trying to convince himself of that too.
“Dream I wanted to tell you-”
“No no no no no,” Dream shook his head, “none of that last word crap, you’re gonna be fine.” His porcelain, usually cold, mask was burned into his face. He was going to suffocate.
He couldn’t lose Fundy, he couldn’t lose Fundy.
“Let me tell you-”
“Please don’t talk about it-” Dream couldn’t stop himself from shaking, “please I can’t lose you- I can’t breath- I can’t even think about losing you.” Shoulders hunched and head bowed Dream could feel
hot tears fall down his face, leaving trails of crackling fire.
Fundy didn’t speak but tentatively reached forwards and grabbed the edge of the mask, pausing he waited for a sign to stop, when he didn’t get one he pushed the mask up farther then pulled it off fully.
He looked at Dream, eyes flooded and foggy, face red and streaked with tears, overlapping scars on his skin and he smiled, forcing himself to stay awake.
“You’re so beautiful.” A few tears fell, he was tired. “Were you always this beautiful?”
He didn’t know if Dream answered, everything started to blur together. More voices, they sounded familiar, someone was poking at his wound, someone was screaming- was that him? Everything hurt, he
tried to move, tried to get away but was held down. Something burned, he lashed out, there was pressure against his ribs. He was being lifted up, a familiar voice murmured reassurances and, after fighting
for so long, Fundy finally let go.
Fundy pried his eyes open, trying to figure out where he was when he realized he was warm, everything was warm. He was laying on something warm, there was a heavy warm figure next to him, and a warm smell drifted from a table nearby.
He looked over and saw Dream, pressed against his side, one of his arms wrapped around Fundy’s chest. On the desk next to him was a bowl of stew and little cup with what Fundy assumed was a healing elixir.
He laid his cheek on top of Dream’s head and closed his eyes, still tired, Dream was right.
Everything was fine.