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The phone buzzed, a long and irritating noise that could have sent him into a frenzy if it hadn't been doing that for the past few hours. He looked at it and sighed, running a hand through his tangle of red curly hair. There were bits of dirt that clung to his hands but a part of him could care less about how he looked at the moment. Night had fallen, the street lights illuminating the streets with warm yellow glow, and it was time for him to go home. At least, that was the usual routine of the life of Fundy Fernmis. Yet as he looked across the empty flower shop, he couldn't help but sink lower into his already uncomfortable seat. Home didn't sound inviting. Not to him, at least. Home meant packing up for the day. Home meant facing the problems he'd left behind during the morning. Home meant Dream.
He reached for his phone, eyes barely grazing the 100+ messages that had been sent his way. He clicked it off, heart burning with the want to turn it on. He wanted so desperately to read through the messages, to see Dream groveling and apologizing, that he hadn’t meant what he had said. He took a shaky sigh, placing the phone back onto the counter with a loud smack. His head was hazy with ache and heartbreak. His eyes stung with freshly sprung tears that cascaded past his cheeks. With nothing but the flowers as his company, he hugged his knees closer to his chest, sobbing away all the misery he had bottled for the entire day. The picture-perfect smile that he had so carefully crafted fell away, now that there was no one to see him fall apart.
It had begun as a simple fight, an offhand comment that Fundy had mostly disguised as a joke. He had been lonely the past couple of days, with Dream hiding himself within his office without so much as sleeping a wink in their bed. How was he to know that Dream would take it to heart?
‘“You never spend any time with me anymore…” Fundy looked down at his soggy bowl of cereal, his spoon posed to his mouth though he didn’t take a bite. He watched as his husband paced the room, already in that awful blue uniform that Fundy’s grown to despise. “Am I boring you?”
He could feel his fiance’s gaze on him, a burning itch that he’d once equate to love. Fundy picked at the counter, his heart heavy in his chest though he forced a smile on his face as he turned to his loving and beloved fiance. “Haha… kidding. I get it. Work’s been rough on you…”
“Have you ever thought…” He froze. He’d never heard that tone from Dream. He looked into Dream’s eye. The black eyepatch that covered his right eye was a reminder of a past that his fiance had refused to divulge. “Whether or not we were actually even made for each other?”
“What…?” He bit his bottom cheek, the air tense despite the warm glow of rising sunlight that poured into the small apartment they called home. Fundy’s ears pressed to the top of his head as his tail curled around his waist. “What do you mean? Dream, I一”
“Right… I forgot. You have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t you?” Dream’s eye began to flood with tears. He wondered if he’d ever seen Dream look so desperate and conflicted. His fiance staggered back, gasping as he held a hand to his face. “You moved on. You get to live your life as if nothing ever happened, while I’m tormented everytime I look into the mirror.”
“Dream, where is this coming from?” Fundy gripped the counter, his legs trembling as he stood from his seat. He’d always been a clumsy person, his arms and feet never functioning the way they’re supposed to. Dream’s mother - Puffy - had told him it was because he had been declawed, though he couldn’t remember when… Fundy snapped out of his thoughts, slowly stumbling his way towards his fiance who didn’t make a move to back off. “I don’t understand, what do you一”
“That’s the problem!” He flinched, nearly falling onto the floor if his hand hadn’t caught itself on the counter. Fundy was shaking, his fiance’s pain was obvious yet he didn’t know what he could do to soothe it. Dream was pulling at the tips of his hair, his teeth clenched so tightly that Fundy feared they’d break. Fundy could do nothing but lower his gaze, terrified of what he’d see if he so much as looked up into that forest green eye that he’d once fallen in love with. “You have no idea what I’ve had to go through. It was so hard, so fucking hard. You were there, of course you were. But you don’t even remember, do you? You don’t know my pain. I thought over time you would… but you’re not the Fundy I knew. You’re not the Fundy I thought I’d spent my last moments with… back in that old farmhouse… Forget it. I don’t… I don’t even know anymore.”
“Dream…” His head was aching, he settled back into his seat. The world spun around him as he tried to focus on his breathing. Dream was still staring at him, almost as if he was waiting for a response. He hugged himself, feeling nauseous as his mind roared to bring out memories that he had long forgotten. He wasn’t sure if he needed to see them anyway. What was the point in going through them when all he ever remembered were fuzzy memories and people with no faces? “I’m sorry… I know work has been stressful and you didn’t need me to add more to your problems. I… I’m really sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean. How can I help you? How can I一”
“You can’t.” Dream smiled at him, a smile so sad and broken that Fundy wondered if the man who stood before him was the same man who had so lovingly proposed to him all those years ago. He let his fiance stagger back, hand pressed to his chest. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
His fiance stumbled towards the front door, a part of him wishing they hadn’t rented an apartment that was open plan. Dream’s sad gaze met him from across the room, a hand already on the handle. Although he knew that Dream was going to come back - he always came back - Fundy couldn’t help but feel as if this was a final goodbye. “If I were to be true… did I ever really even love you? Or did I simply need you more than you ever needed me?”
He sniffed, wiping his hand with the sleeve of his shirt. The words scarred him. Fundy knew he couldn’t bring himself to go home, home to a man who probably didn’t even love him. He wondered if it was too late to take the bus, to call Eret and ask if he could stay with them for a few days. Fundy shook his head, driving away the thoughts of escape that circulated his mind. He wouldn’t want to bother Eret with his misery, they’d already done so much for him in the past few years. With a heavy heart, he reached down towards one of the cabinets, pulling out an old sleeping bag that he had stuffed inside a long, long time ago. It reeked of dust and small termites.
Fundy would sleep at the shop for the night, for as long as he needed to. He sat up from his seat, leaning down to pat the sleeping bag clean. He’d have to sleep behind the counter and on the wooden floor, but he didn’t mind. Fundy would rather be uncomfortable than go home to Dream.
As he ran a hand through the dirty cloth, his ears perked up at the soft sound of windchimes. He could have sworn that he had locked the door… He peeked from behind the counter, eyes blinking as he took in the two men that had entered the shop. His heart panged, but he wasn’t sure why. The first man, the one closer to the door, wore a yellow sweater, black pants, and a bright red beanie on top of messy, curly brown hair. He was tall and his dark brown eyes seemed to stare right into Fundy’s soul, he shuddered, turning to the first man’s companion. The second man, a much shorter man - perhaps even shorter than Fundy, wore a blue shirt, blue jeans, and white goggles that hid his eyes. Despite the goggles, he could tell the man was staring at him.
“I’m sorry… The shop’s closed for today. Please come back tomorrow.” Fundy gave them the best smile that he could muster, feeling more like a grimace as he prayed that they wouldn’t notice the obvious tear stains on his cheeks. He resumed his task, patting away at the sleeping bag as he waited for the telltale sign of windchimes once more. After a few minutes of silence, he looked up once again, nearly shrieking as Goggles stood right in front of the counter. Fundy hadn’t even heard his footsteps… His heart raced, a hand snaking towards the front drawer. He swallowed down his fear, “Uhm… The shop’s closed. Please come again tomorrow.”
“Fundy…” He tilted his head at that, confusion replacing his terror as he slowly forced himself to stand. Goggles looked down at the musty and tattered sleeping bag, his nose crinkling in distaste before settling his gaze back on Fundy. “Don’t you… Don’t you remember us?”
“I’m sorry, are you customers of mine? Are you here to complain because if so I can try to replace whatever bouquet or flower you may have bought…” He trailed off, noticing the lack of flower or bouquet in the two strangers’ hands. “I’m really sorry I don’t remember you, but I一”
“Fundy.” Beanie spoke up, a hand resting on the inside of his pocket as he approached his disgruntled partner who looked as if he was on the verge of tears. The man held Goggles closely, rubbing a comforting hand up and down the man’s arm. “I know you might be upset with us.”
The man frowned, placing a scarred hand on the counter. Fundy couldn’t help but shudder, his fingers latching onto the handle of the front drawer. Neither of them seemed to notice as they stared at him, almost as if they were waiting. His ears pressed back, eyes skittering away as he hoped for them to leave him be. He yelped as he felt a hand grasp his cheek, swatting it away as a low growl ripped through his throat. A look of hurt flashed across Beanie’s eyes, “Fundy. You’re upset but you can’t pretend to not know us.” His eyes narrowed, the drawer inching open. “We went to see you after all these years… Didn’t you miss us? Didn’t you miss your dads?”
His ears rang with static, his heart hammering in his chest as those words reached him. He felt himself baring his teeth, blood boiling with fury at the thought… at the horrible thought… Neither of the men flinched, Goggles even giving him a soft smile as though he had expected the reaction. Fundy wished he could reach forward and claw that wretched smile away, force them to leave his shop screaming… He took a deep breath. He was not about to ruin his perfect reputation for two men who think they could prank him. “My parents are dead. You probably didn’t expect that, huh?” Goggles raised a brow, seemingly unimpressed with the statement… that or he was confused. Beanie looked stricken, a hand placed to his chest as if Fundy had struck an arrow to his heart. “Leave. Now. I’m not going to entertain whatever STUPID prank you一”
“You don’t remember…” The words were low, whispered. Goggles took a step back, tears dripping past his cheeks. Fundy scowled at the callous display. Did these two take him for a fool? He knew his parents… at least he knew they were dead. “My baby doesn’t remember me.”
“George, it’s alright!” Beanie wrapped an arm around Goggles - George, apparently - letting the man sob into his sweater. “He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember us, but we can remedy that. We can fix this. That’s why we came here. We’re here to bring Fundy home, remember?”
“It’s still hard to process, Wilbur!” George screamed into Beanie’s - Wilbur’s - chest, his loud sobs plucked at Fundy’s heartstrings despite the terror he felt at Wilbur’s words. The two cried like parents who’d been told that their child had died. “I want him back, Wil. I want him back.”
Fundy could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, his fear overtaking him. He wiped at his eyes with the shirt of his sleeve, a soft whine seeping past his lips. Seeing these two strangers cry - weird and cruel as they were - made him upset. He sniffled, willing his tears to stop.
“You always did get upset when we cried…” Wilbur’s calm voice soothed his phantom pain. A choked sob caught in his throat, and through the blur of brewing tears in his eyes, he noticed a hand reaching for him. “It’s alright, Fundy. We’re here now… We’ll help you remember一”
The man grabbed his wrist. Panic coursed through his veins as the grip tightened, screeching as he pulled out the gun he’d kept inside the drawer with his free hand. “GET AWAY FROM ME! TOUCH ME AGAIN AND I’LL PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER! I-I MEAN IT!”
Both of the men froze, the painful grip on his wrist loosening as Wilbur flinched, eyes narrowed as he regarded Fundy with what he could only describe as betrayal and bafflement. His partner, George, had gone completely still. A hand was pressed to his chest, fingers clutching at his blue shirt. He looked at Fundy, his face pale as though Fundy had already shot him. George was trembling, harsh sobs growing louder as he fell to his knees on the tiled floor with a loud thump.
“Wil… WIL!” George shrieked, a gut wrenching scream that rang in Fundy’s sensitive ears. His grip on the trigger wavered, his hands shaking as Wilbur boldly approached him, the barrel of the gun pressing into the man’s sweater. He hadn’t let go of Fundy’s hand, fingers tracing the bumps of his wrists as the man’s free hand reached to hold the gun. He shivered, throat impossibly dry as the man’s eyes flicked down towards the gun. George stared up from the floor, his teeth clenched and his hands curled into fists. “Wilbur… for the love of the gods, that better not be一”
“My fiance’s a cop. Do you understand what that means? It means you can’t fucking do shit to me.” His voice shook, gaze darting to his phone on the counter. Of all the fucking times to turn it off… Wilbur tightened his grip on the gun. “I fucking mean it! Y-you’ll go to jail for-for… life!”
“My little champion…” His nose scrunched up at the nickname, disgust rising from his chest. Despite hearing it for the first time… He jumped back as Wilbur leaned closer, an amused smile on his face. “I can tell the difference between a real gun and one that is made out of plastic.”
A shiver ran down his spine. He took a sharp breath, focusing on his phone. He needed to call Dream, no matter the fight, he had to… he had to call Dream. His eyes shuttered close, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Then, without hesitation, he slammed the plastic gun on the man’s face.
Without daring to look back, Fundy grabbed his phone and raced towards the greenhouse. All the while cursing himself for not installing a back entrance. It didn't seem important at the time. He flung the glass doors open, skittering inside the greenhouse as loud footsteps followed after him.
His hands shakily pressed against the phone button, willing it to open as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the greenhouse. The couple looked human enough. There were no hybrid traits visible on the pair, so perhaps Fundy’s fox hybrid traits would have an advantage over them.
His chest felt heavy, breath coming out in shallow breaths as he glanced around. He could nearly feel the phantom hand that was reaching for his back… He ran deeper into the greenhouse, begging for the phone in his hand to open. He needed to call Dream. He had to talk to Dream.
As his phone took its time to open, he hid himself among the shrubbery, holding back a sob as he heard the glass door slam open. He held his phone closer to his chest, praying to any god that could hear him that he would get out of the situation alive. He couldn't die here. He didn't want to die here. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home to Dream and cry into his sweater and beg him to stay. He didn't want to die.
"Fundy, baby it's alright! We aren't going to harm you, please come out and we can talk about this." Wilbur had followed him, but Fundy was sure that George had too, though he couldn't tell since the man was much quieter than his partner. He could hear footsteps along the ground, the man stalking further into the greenhouse as Fundy stayed where he was. He dared not move or flee into the front of the shop, not until he was sure that he was safe enough to leave. "Where are you my little champion? Remember that nickname? You hated it when you were younger... Honestly, you'd probably hate it even more now if you... Please come out, Funds. You're safe with us, I promise."
He refrained from retorting, holding down his urge to growl as the phone buzzed beneath his fingertips. As he curled deeper between what he could only assume were the large berry bushes that he had planted, he turned down the light of the phone before calling his fiance, begging against the universe that Dream hadn’t had a change of heart. The phone rang once before he heard a click, Dream’s panicked voice breaking through the silence, loud enough for Fundy to wince as he pressed the phone against his ear. “Fundy?! FUNDY! Oh my gods, I need you to get home immediately. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said this morning… Just get home right一”
“D-Dream…” He could hear his fiance take a sharp breath, the thud of footsteps and the screech of cars in the distance nearly masking the fear in that one gesture. Fundy pulled his knees closer to his chest, eyes darting through the darkness. Wilbur hadn’t found him yet. “Please… two assholes came into the store and they’re… they’re being weird I… Dream… Dream, I’m scared. I’m stuck in the greenhouse and they’re looking for me. Dream I… Dream, I don’t want to die.”
“Oh fuck… Fundy, if you can, I need you to get out of there immediately. I’m on my way. Just hold on, okay? Fuck I… I should have told you. I should have told you.” Fundy pressed a hand to his mouth, holding back the sobs that threatened to slip past. He didn’t understand, but Dream did. Dream knew but Fundy couldn’t bring himself to demand for an explanation. He just wanted to see his fiance. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep and go on with his life the moment he woke up again in the morning… “Babe… Fundy… You’ll get out of this alive. I promise一”
“Fundy!” He screamed, a hand had clamped down on his shoulder. Fundy looked up, that red beanie catching his eye. “There you are, son. Calm down. You’re safe. You’re perfectly safe.”
He scowled, the soothing words doing nothing to calm him. He screeched, a loud and high whine that sent even his own ears ringing. Wilbur flinched, hands reaching back to cusp his beanie. Fundy wasted no time in running past him, the light from the front of the shop guiding him.
“Fundy! Fundy! What was that?! Are you hurt?!” Dream called out but Fundy focused all his efforts into getting out alive. He couldn’t hear Wilbur chasing after him, and he had to assume George was still somewhere in the greenhouse. He needed to get out. For Dream. For himself.
As he entered the front of the shop, a warm sliver of relief flooded his chest. It was a long run back home, but he was sure those lunatics wouldn’t chase him down the street. With the phone held tightly in his hand, he made a quick break for the door that led to his freedom and safety
He felt an arm wrap around his waist, the world spun as he collided against the floor in his attempts to run away. The phone had fallen from his hand, Dream's frantic cries fueling him desperately as he tried to fend off the shorter man who had tackled him from the side. The man's moves were frantic, messy yet somehow precise as he manhandled Fundy to keep still. Out of desperation, he began to paw at the man's hands, cursing his faceless and nameless parents for ever thinking it was a good idea to declaw him. Fundy tried to lunge, mouth opening wide as his teeth tried to gain purchase on the man's wrist. As if expecting it, the man moved his hand away, choosing to tangle his fingers into Fundy's hair before slamming his head onto the ground. He yelped, momentarily stunned as stars began to blink within his vision. The man's hand - the one he had tried to bite - appeared in front of him. He could feel the man's rough palm against his cheek, his dazed and delirious mind focusing on the faded scars on the man's wrist. They looked like bite marks... Ones that a young child made. Fundy shuddered at the thought of what had become of that poor kid.
"It's okay, Fundy. It's okay! Everything will be alright." The man was patting his cheek, the other hand reaching up to scratch behind his ears. "You're scared. You're confused. You don't remember who you are, but it's alright. Your dads are here now. We're going to make your remember, you'd like that wouldn't you? You want to remember, hm?"
From the corner of his eye, he could see George reach for something to the right. He turned his head to the left, gaze fixing on his phone which had skidded underneath the counter. Dream’s screeching could be heard, his proclamations of threats (towards George and Wilbur) and pleas for Fundy to speak broke his heart. He reached out a hand, wishing he could crawl towards his phone, but George kept a tight grip on him. The man would look down at him each time he moved, patting his cheek before shushing him, saying reassuring words as if they weren’t about to kill him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He wasn’t going home… not tonight… not ever.
He’d never see Dream again.
Their fight replayed over and over in his mind, wondering about ‘what-ifs.’
But deep down Fundy knew that if he could do it over again, he’d only wish that he had properly said his goodbye.
He struggled in the man’s unrelenting hold, crawling forward despite the protests that reached his ears. Hands gripped the back of his shirt, pulling him back as he desperately tried to lunge forward.
He had to say it.
He needed to.
“Dream…” Even with the tears falling past his cheeks, he forced a smile to his face. “I love you.”
‘FUNDY!’
A flower pot smashed against his head.
He went to sleep.