Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dream sat on the cold and hard obsidian floor of the prison. His shoulders were slumped forward as he lay his hands splayed out in front of him. The lava bubbled and popped directly in his line of vision, a familiar sight and sound that accompanied his laboured breathing. His shoulders shook and hiked up whenever he took a breath, chest aching whenever he let it out. His thin frame shuddered with every breath he puffed out and he closed his eyes pitifully. 

He couldn’t move, having just gained consciousness after one of Quackity’s visits. He didn’t know how long the torture had been going on for, days or weeks (he couldn’t know, not after Sam had stopped giving him a clock after he burned them and he didn’t have any tool to count the days after that-), but it didn’t matter.

What did matter, though, was that Quackity was done. He was done for the- day, hour, minute- whichever it was. Whatever it was, Quackity wasn’t coming back in a while, he thought to himself. Maybe he might be back soon, Dream wasn’t able to count the seconds and minutes he was unconscious for. Hell, he didn’t have any indication for how long he had passed out for. Everything inside his cell looked pathetically the same. 

The lectern was bloodied and beaten as usual, it was where Quackity loved to smash his face against when he was in a particularly pissy mood. His books were scattered around, either soaked in his blood, torn by his own hands or dumped into his tiny little pool and cauldron, left to rot and become useless pieces of debris. 

It kind of reminded him of himself, he mused bitterly. 

Once full of information, pages blank and ready to be filled with knowledge and words and beautiful script—but now left to rot in this hellhole alongside him. Left useless as it was long exhausted of its use and power. Dream wondered aimlessly when knowledge stopped being powerful and began to deteriorate and turn useless just like him. When he couldn’t even hold the information above people anymore while using and abusing them for their efforts. He wondered when he stopped being powerful and when people started to see him for what he was—a useless book. He wondered when people stopped looking at him for the information he held (and he had a lot, he always understood that knowledge was power in the literal sense-) and started to look at him as an infallible human being. 

He wondered when he became as useless as a book that was dunked into water and left to rot and wear out until the ink was indescribable. Maybe that’s something they both shared. So easy to leave behind, so easy to forget once the use was exhausted completely. 

Despite all this, the lava continued to pour and the prison continued to hum with power and electricity and everything to keep him inside and powerless. The prison, the one thing he commissioned (and how poetic was it, to throw the big bad villain into the one thing he created as a failsafe for himself- throw him into the one building he had exerted so much of his efforts and time and materials into and by the people who he had trusted the most, too-), was impenetrable. 

He knew that better than most. 

Sam knew it better than most. 

They both knew the rules better than most—which was why it confused Dream why Quackity kept coming in with weapons when not even Tommy- the kid he had killed and brought back- was given a pardon for the rules. 

Why Quackity? 

Whatever the answer was, it was interrupted by the sounds of the prison coming to life. Redstone whirred as he opened his eyes groggily. He was not expecting Quackity again this early. Maybe this was another strategy of his to get something out of him. Maybe this was a way for him to exhaust Dream of all his use for one final time. 

All these thoughts flew out his head when all he heard on the other side was silence- aside from the loud grinding noises of the redstone making it work to drain the lava. This alone was weird considering Dream could always hear when Quackity and Sam would speak loudly on the other side, talking about his soon demise or any future plans. They were both never quiet when visiting him, always rubbing it in his face that they were present and on the other side, unlike him. 

Everything was quiet…too quiet. As the lava finally drained away, Dream raised his head and glared at the platform across him. He could see the fading shade of Ghostbur and Sam but if he squinted enough, he could see the particles of an invisibility potion. He pushed himself up and against the netherite blocks, a small smirk on his face when he saw an axe appear out of nowhere. He reached forward and grabbed Ghostbur while Sam and Tommy were screaming at each other.

“I’m going to do it, Tommy!” his voice grated on his own ears, sounding so rugged and rough and scratchy of overuse or underuse, he didn’t even know anymore. That was a recurring theme now, it seemed. The man who once knew everything, the deepest of secrets and darkest of fears, couldn’t have it in himself to care about what is happening right now. All he knew was that Ghostbur was there and he was a liability. He was a weakness of Tommy’s that he could exploit. He could use it because what use was he now that he was trapped and useless and powerless. “I’m going to revive him!”

“Don’t you dare, you fucking bastard!” Tommy screamed from the other side, the only thing stopping him from jumping into the lava and slamming the axe into his face was Sam’s tight grip on his shoulder. He could hear the regret, pain and desperation in Tommy’s voice. He either didn’t want to lose Ghostbur or he really didn’t want to see Wilbur again. Whichever it was made for good leverage against the teen (he ignored the uneasy coil in his gut at using him again-). “Don’t you dare! Let him go, Dream!”

“Let me out or I’ll revive him!” Dream screamed back, voice hoarse as he gripped Ghostbur almost desperately. He could feel the specter struggle helplessly against his hold, shouting back at Tommy just as desperately. He could feel the blue liquid that replaced the ghost’s tears drip down and onto his hand. The liquid chilled his hand to the bone, not at all used to the extreme cold temperature when he was faced with the constant flow of lava. He could see Tommy and Sam arguing before Tommy calmed Ghostbur down but everything was a blur to him.

His mind was filled with static as he snarled, seeing the lava slowly drift down. He knew it was the safety procedure going into effect. He hadn’t lied to Tommy when he said he had written the books that detailed the safety precautions. 

He gripped Ghostbur’s sweater tighter and shouted one last declaration to Tommy before he reached up and—snapped the ghost’s neck. The shade’s body dropped close to him and he grunted at the weight. He ignored how Tommy screamed loud and long before cursing Sam out. His shouts became white noise to Dream as he carefully laid Ghostbur down on the ground. He huffed, a bit annoyed at Sam’s stubbornness. 

Either way, he was getting out of here, be it through using Ghostbur as bait or reviving Wilbur. He bared his teeth and took in Ghostbur’s prone form in front of him. 

He already knew the process like the back of his head, and having practiced it on Tommy helped him even more. The process was vague but he understood it, especially more so when he memorized the book like he told Quackity. He just lied when he said he burnt it, not wanting Quackity to try and find it himself. Either way, he always wanted to hold the most power out of everyone there. 

Lying just a little bit wouldn’t change that fact. 

As he prepared the ritual, his cell glowing during the process, he could hear the tiniest of...whispers, of some sort.

Whispers? That never-

He gasped when instead of plunging forward, like a dive into the vast ocean to grab onto Wilbur’s arm and pull him out of the afterlife and into the real world—he was the one being pushed in head first. 

Dream blacked out for a good moment, his breath coming in staggered and shallow as his entire body shook. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t open his eyes to see. Which wasn’t funny considering he could only see through one fucking eye.

He couldn’t do anything substantial and it scared him. 

Was this—was this what it felt like to die? Was this his afterlife? A horrendous limbo for such an ambitious and active man to be reduced to absolute nothingness. 

A shiver ran up his spine as he gasped for air, feeling his already abused lungs constrict and tighten. His chest aching and shaking as every rattling breath he took hurt him. It was like he was breathing in water but he couldn’t feel anything around him. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He didn’t know what was happening or why it was happening. He was so sure that he followed the process of the revival correctly and the same way he did it with Tommy. He was so sure of it.  

Nothing would’ve gone wrong. 

He never made mistakes (now wasn’t that just a lie-).

Despite all his precautions, despite all his worries and his assurances—he was now stuck here in this void of emptiness- left to float all alone and miserable and left to his own thoughts.

What a terrifying limbo, indeed.

It made him think of everything. Made him reflect more than looking at the dumb prison walls of obsidian ever could do to him. It made Dream think of everything he had done so far and all his actions that had affected everyone. It made him realize so many things but at the same time—it made him angrier and spiteful. 

Everything he had done—it was for everyone’s benefit. 

Everything he had strived for was to bring it all to one perfect conclusion- a peaceful home where friends could live together and not suffer. That was all he had wanted and everything L’manberg stood for went against that. 

He wanted a free place where no one needed to feel like they should belong because they already belong everywhere. L’manberg prevented that and when he asked them to stop, they branded him a tyrant—a villain. And in his anger and spite, he had taken up the mantle and showed them no mercy. 

He went at them with all he had, using everything at his disposal. 

That's where it all began. Then slowly, he began to spiral downwards. He started to do more villainous things (something he would’ve been appalled at before everything-), started pushing his luck and started to ruin everything without any care for the consequences. 

He had started to get worse and worse until suddenly he realized he was all on his own. 

When he finally realized this, he was thrown into prison. He was locked away and everyone hated him. Tommy was throwing everything he did to him back in his face, Sapnap promised to kill him if he ever stepped foot outside of the prison and Bad wasn’t the same- he was never the same since whatever got a hold on him and ruined his usual cheery demeanor. If anything, Dream wasn’t the only one who changed after everything that happened. Everyone else did too, now that he thought about it. 

George became less active and more reluctant to start fights, choosing to stand by the sidelines instead of by his side- fight or not. Sapnap became more sensitive, too aware of people’s feelings and more open to misunderstandings. Tommy became too reckless and ruthless (who used to laugh in his presence-), Tubbo having become less complacent and more cruel and chaotic (who shouldn’t have been president-). Bad and Ant had turned into monsters who only seeked to please the Egg and not anymore caring about their own desires or friendships (back when they hung out, together, for one last time-). Punz was more detached and took his profession as mercenary too seriously (the person Dream thought he could trust-). Sam’s mind got taken over by his duties as a Warden, warping his own morals and thought process to be more cold and calculated and cruel (Sam, who would smile and help and watch over everyone and was one of his oldest friends-). Even Quackity, who was once just an ambitious and fun loving man, was warped beyond recognition—capable of horrible feats and lying and misdirection in the most blatant of ways even Dream could never do nor think of (but Dream could never do it anyway-).

He, too, had changed. Turned into a monster of his own making. A man who was not scared of the consequences and doing what he thought was right. The entire time—all he wanted was control. To wrangle everything back into it’s peaceful days but then it slowly descended into utter madness as his fight for control turned into an obsession.  

He had fallen and drowned in the vast sea of villainy and no one had the time to just look at him struggling to stay afloat despite the waves crashing overhead. He blamed it on his mask—but he also blamed it on himself. His incapability to reach out and speak. His twisted version of weakness blinding him and forcing him to keep quiet about his insecurities. His thoughts and insecurities holding him back from really and truly reaching out to his friends and speaking to them about what he wanted. By the time he gathered the courage to speak about it nonchalantly to Punz—he had sounded like a villain who wanted to control everyone and brainwash them into his ‘perfect family’. 

He didn’t need or want a ‘perfect family’. What he wanted was a peaceful community where everyone could live with each other and have fun. He wanted a place where everyone was friends and every stupid little fight they have would just be resolved within days or hours. He just wanted a family where everyone was happy and not divided. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

As Dream continued to float and think of his mistakes and deeds—something in his chest ached and continued to ache as his body lurched forward. Dream choked before he gasped for air, opening his eyes to the light. It took him a few seconds to realize that this light was different from the lava in his prison and it wasn’t at all hot anymore. 

No, instead it was cold. Not—Not chillingly cold like loneliness and emptiness. Not as cold as Ghostbur’s blue tears as they cascaded down his hands as he maneuvered him inside the cell. It was cold but—not so that it bit against his skin like in the Arctic whenever he visited Technoblade. 

It was a comforting cold that wrapped around him. 

He could hear muffled shouts but he doesn’t know if it’s in fear or anger or surprise. He didn’t care because he had a pounding headache.  

His knees buckled below him as he let out a sharp gasp, reaching out for something- anything to clutch onto. 

Before his mind and body could register different other hands grabbing and catching him as he fell, before he could say anything to their muffled voices- seemingly speaking as if they were underwater- he passed out, his head lolling to the side and his body relaxing to the point of being immovable. He’d worry about everything when he wakes up- or if he wakes up. 

Who knows, maybe he’d wake up in his afterlife. 

What he did know was that he had a killer headache and being unconscious soothed that better than anything else at the moment. 

When Dream could feel his entire body waking up, he was expecting a lot of things. He was expecting the cold of the crying obsidian walls, the heat of the lava closing him in, the rough texture of the obsidian digging into his skin through the flimsy and thin fabric of the orange uniform, the agonizing pain of his multiple wounds and gashes and cuts and bruises that couldn’t be healed properly until they were infected and ugly-

He wasn’t expecting warmth. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Dream groaned loudly, and had he been more stable and conscious he would’ve winced at the volume—but he was more focused on his surroundings and, upon opening his eyes, was first greeted to the sight of a puffy blanket splayed over his torso.

Dream blinked slowly, staring, before closing his eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to ease the throbbing headache that was gradually subsiding into an ache, massaging his temples (it didn’t help how he was half-blind—he could barely see shit with one eye). This must be another, scarily realistic and vivid dream. It wasn’t the first time he had dreams of sleeping in something comfortable, something warm, something that felt like he was encased in safe and protective arms reassuring him that it’s alright-

But after rubbing his eyes once the headache was pushed back and allowed his hand to fall on the covers—his brain shut down when he could actually feel the softness, the plush and thick fabric pressing gently against the scarred surface of his hand.

It’s not a dream-

Dream glanced down, clenching the fabric in his hands, breath hitching when he felt it crumple in his grip. His eyes shot up, widening every second as he took in the sight of the room he was in. Not the small, cramped, practically suffocating box of a prison cell made exactly for him. He could feel his eyes strain at how bright and soft and fucking light everything was. Even if it was dark, even if he could see an open window (a window—he had never seen the world outside of the prison for what felt like years-) with a soft beam of the moon’s light passing through it. It wasn’t pure darkness, pure darkness accompanied with the lava on the other end, too hot and too orange and too red (orange just like the uniform he adorned until he got sick of the color, red like the blood that often bloomed on his skin every single day-). The walls were white like quartz, even in the dark with just the moon (the moon-) as the brightest light source in the room.

It’s not a dream-

The room felt too lavish, too expensive for someone like him. The walls were too white instead of the dark obsidian he had unfortunately grown accustomed to looking at every time he opened his eyes—eye. He wasn’t used to such a color anymore (just dark, dark purple until it was only black, and it could’ve stayed black if it wasn’t for the lava, maybe he didn’t have to see anything anymore-). The furniture was designed too well for an ordinary room, not even the hotels in the SMP could afford or create these kinds of furniture that no doubt cost more than a fortune. The carpet itself was large with gold lining the edges, detailed with the most intricate yet simple design; it felt like a crime looking at something so elegant. A lampshade and a vase filled with flowers was displayed beside the bed on a nightstand, the light being dim yet bright enough to give the room a soft glow of gold other than the white moonlight.

It’s not a dream-

Dream felt his breath hitching, scrambling back until he hit the headboard of the bed but paid no attention to the way his back screamed and clawed at him in protest, in pain from freshly carved wounds and subconsciously apologized to whoever owned the room because he could already feel the blood soaking through everything. He hugged himself, feeling his chest constrict and ringing in his ears as the edges of his vision blurred to black every now and then.

He’s not dreaming.

It’s real.

And he’s not in prison-

That thought alone had him spiraling into anxiety, eyes burning with the sudden onslaught of tears that were, ironically enough, feeling familiar that anything else when he used to despise the thought of crying. He brought a shaky hand up to his mouth, covering it, covering his breath until the urge to just suffocate was strong with how his instincts screamed at him to get out, get out while he still can before the Warden comes hunting him down when realizing he escaped-

Dream bit his tongue harshly it could’ve bled before panic could cloud his consciousness and keep him stuck in hallucinations that never failed to make him scream and cry all alone in the dark cell until he passed out from lack of hunger (why did Sam take it away, why would he take it away and then serve him raw potatoes-). Breathing heavily, he rushed to grab the blankets and bunched it up over his knees, clutching the soft fabric rather desperately as if it’s the only chance he could feel such softness instead of the ragged and old piece of cloth given to him as a makeshift bed. He was close to crying, burying his face into it and inhaled the overwhelming yet calming scent of...a cologne of some sort, he couldn’t tell what the scent was but it somehow managed to ease the static that was eager to overrule his ability to think until he was babbling nonsense with no one to hear his cries for help.

He forced himself to calm down, rather experienced with it from how much he had to compose himself in front of Quackity and occasionally Sam (and it failed repeatedly when they bruised and cut and wound and injured and scar and slice and burn and drown-). When he was sure his head wasn’t filled with cotton, he released a shaky exhale, opening his eyes to stare at the dim room once again, mind blanking in confusion.

What… What happened?

Dream nibbled on the split flesh of his bottom lip, ignoring the faint tang of iron (it’s a flavor he had gotten used to other than raw potatoes and water-) as he tried to recall how he landed here and why the hell was he in a room instead of his prison cell. He was…

He was trying to revive Wilbur. Or Ghostbur. 

No, he sighed through his nose in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the faint throb of a headache attempting to surface back. He killed Ghostbur and performed the ritual. He was sure of it.

He was also sure he didn’t miscalculate or make a single mistake that could’ve cost his life.

So what the hell happened?

Dream tried to remember, but whether it was just coming out of a panic attack or having woken up bleary and delirious and puzzled, the headache just kept on coming back as if refusing to let him see what went wrong. But now- he couldn’t be sure of anything when he was in an unfamiliar room that unnervingly made him feel warm (warmth, something that spread through his entire body like a security blanket, instead of the heat that bubbled from the lava that made his skin blaze, made him swim in an attempt to feel warmth but felt the blistering heat, instead of the cold that encased him like a snowstorm that froze him from inside and out until he was burning-).  

He couldn’t even be sure if someone broke him out of prison. And if they did, Dream didn’t have the time to feel grateful when all he could think of right now was how Sam was going to notice and he was going to try and bring him back and take his food away until Quackity came back too-

Dream shot up from the bed, a little too reckless as he yelped when his legs buckled underneath him and had the floor meeting his gaze. He quickly used his arms to brace the majority of the impact, hissing and holding back a whimper. Swallowing, Dream slowly pushed himself up, flinching when his legs (his entire body, really) immediately spiked in protest—which was understandable because his wounds weren’t cleaned or treated properly. Quackity or Sam only threw him a medkit that barely contained anything other than antiseptic and bandages (left Dream no choice but to bite his lip to blood as tears dripped down his face when the liquid burned his skin, even more so with his pathetically weakened body that lacked nutrition and muscle, had to curse in frustration and swallowed down the urge to scream when he continuously messed up his pitiful attempts at wrapping himself up with the bandages and therefore wasted them when they get soaked in his blood-).

He dragged his feet to the window, holding in the urge from throwing himself outside in barely contained hope and excitement—and instantly felt his breath getting punched out of his lungs, eyes widening into the size of saucers as his fingers loosened from gripping his sleeves so tightly he could’ve ripped the fabric. 

Dumbstruck green eyes stared up at the bright yet soft light of the moon, round and full and lighting the entire cloudless sky with the few glimpses of stars scattered on the darkest edges of the night sky. He didn’t realize the window was pushed open until his hand was tentatively on the window sill, grasping it firmly, afraid that this moment would be taken away from him like everything else. 

It was beautiful.

And he felt dirty just looking at the beauty of something so—simple as the night sky and the bright full moon. As if someone like him shouldn’t have the freedom to stare at a sight, at a beauty he might taint it, something he was inadvertently good at.

Dream couldn’t help but just...stare. Just let his eyes take in every single detail of the scenery above him. He couldn’t cry, no matter how much he wanted to even though he would’ve been too ashamed and embarrassed because he—he fucking missed this. 

He missed feeling free, feeling like himself just...just doing something so mundane like staring up at the sky. No punishment involved. No begging, no pleading, no torture, no starvation-

For a moment, he felt like he had no worries in the world. That he wasn’t a villain who ruined everything, caused everyone he cared and treasured pain, broke off all his relationships and distanced himself until he truly forgot what it was like to feel loss until it was too late—that his obsession to control and control and bring back the peace the SMP once had inevitably caused his downfall. He had been so intent on wishing for a time everyone was happy and free. Just a couple of friends hanging out and doing whatever shenanigans could happen in a server that belonged to the infamous Dream.

Dream frowned, he would always wonder...how everything went to hell. 

“Dream?”

In a heartbeat, the man in question froze, heart dropping to his stomach and mouth drying up immediately. His tongue felt heavy like lead, ears beginning to ring as his head screamed at him to run, run away right now, he ruined everything it’s all his fault he didn’t mean it I’m sorry-

Whirling around with his hopes and despair coming true—he was met with the sight of the two people he cherished more than his own life until he pushed them away with his own hands. 

And if was in his right mind, he would’ve taken notice of how George looked different. His longest friend, his best friend. His hair was short, the same cut when they first entered the server Dream had created, no longer long and in disarray from the countless times he slept through everything from stress (until he snapped at Dream, and he couldn’t blame him-). He wasn’t wearing his iconic goggles he refused to take off since the wars started—it looked more like...sunglasses. But fake and goofy-looking. He didn’t even have scars, something everyone in the SMP had to bear for the rest of their lives (something that never failed to make him feel guilty because he was the reason they fought, betrayed, deceived, tortured, mistrust, screamed and blamed him and they weren’t wrong-).

Sapnap seemed to have gotten a haircut as well, his white bandana missing and a flame shirt over a black turtleneck. He had a visible stubble, too, something Dream didn’t expect to see on the youngest of their broken team (his best friend, his brother who he met and protected and laughed and cared for when they were just kids, when he would call him ‘Pandas’ and Sapnap would call him by his real name with fondness and joy before those emotions were replaced with anger and hatred-). Just like George, he didn’t have any scars other than an eyebrow slit, adorning a comfortable hoodie that had...that had the smiling face of Dream’s mask stitched on the front of the fabric. He looked confused and worried. 

Actually- both of them were, George actually tilting his head as he squinted his eyes, regarding him as best as he could in the dim room that only had the moon and a small lamp as a light source, before widening in pure shock. Behind him, Sapnap seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he narrowed his eyes, lips turning down and Dream felt a jolt of fear run over him and suddenly the cool air coming from the open window was less than pleasant like ice freezing him over until he was unable to move at all, rooting him in spot.

They were tensed up, ready for a fight, and all Dream could think of, at the sight of their appearance before looking into their eyes, before they scowled and snarled as if just the very sight of him offended them—was how happy they looked, healthy, bare of any scars that marked Dream’s failure of being an admin and a friend (and a brother-). How they looked like they moved on and started anew.

Without him.

“Who are you?”

And they didn’t want him.

They’re going to bring him back.

They’re going to take him back to the prison alone-

Dream gasped, his chest hammering against his ribcage wildly to the point of pain like a caged bird getting desperate to be free. His breaths stuttered, the air getting stuck in his throat as the ringing in his ears returned tenfold and the headache came back with vigor, static and darkness edging his vision until his entire body couldn’t even function and his lungs were losing their ability to give him air.

Without warning, his knees buckled, limbs suddenly turning limp and numb like his head. His eyes rolled back, vision turning dark immediately as he felt his heart practically stop beating altogether from the amount of panic and fear and guilt that overwhelmed his senses in a span of a few seconds.

Had he been in his right mind, he would’ve noticed the anger that filled Sapnap’s eyes when gazing at the clear color of blood that couldn’t be hidden from his orange prison uniform. Would’ve noticed how George was shocked at his sudden change of appearance, eyes darting from his long and messy dirty blond hair and the scars littered across his sunken face, the milky white film in his right eye so visible in the dim room.

The last thing he saw were arms shooting out towards him, a faint, muffled sound of a thud and a scream.

Tommy clenched his jaw tightly as he gripped at his pants cloth. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the tears as he passed through the nether portal. When he left the prison, he opened his eyes and was met by Ranboo and Tubbo looking at him. When the portal behind him stayed still and didn’t waver for another person, Tubbo turned to him with wide and deep blue eyes. 

Feeling a chill running down his spine, Tommy swallowed thickly and tried to forget about the way Ghostbur had screamed at him, and had asked him why he left him. He couldn’t forget how the sound grated in his ears and reminded him once more that he had fucked up—badly. 

His head rang with static and white noise as he remembered Ghostbur’s face across the lava. How he’d screamed so—desperately. How his tears stained the ground he stood in with blue (the color that made him so happy-). How his face had twisted so wrongly and horribly and Tommy had never felt his chest ache so much. He had never wanted to reach out and comfort a person this much before and he had hurt so many people. He had hurt so many people and even until now, when Dream (the main cause of all their problems and hurt and it will never change because Dream was always at fault- he was the villain, how could he not be at fault-) was in the prison and locked away from everyone forever—he still hurt someone. He had hurt the most innocent person of them all. 

He felt like a worse villain than Dream.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as he looked down on the ground, refusing fervently to meet any of their eyes as he curled his hands into fists. He couldn’t believe he had hurt Ghostbur. He couldn’t believe that Ghostbur was gone. He even realized that this could happen, that maybe using Ghostbur was too dangerous and maybe they should’ve used Tubbo but he was so stubborn and prideful and- look where that brought them. Dream killed Ghostbur and he would no doubt revive Wilbur—his brother in everything but blood while also being his most feared enemy. He didn’t know what kind of life he would live if he knew the very monster of his nightmares started walking amongst the living once more. 

Everything he had worked towards, all the happiness that he had obtained through hardships and battles and dilemmas—all of that would be gone. He had defeated the villain, locked him up so he couldn’t destroy anyone’s dreams and ruin their lives. Had been the hero of everyone’s story after going through so much. He didn’t want to fit into the mold of Technoblade’s stupid hero story but he had been a hero. He had won over Dream, kept Tubbo alive, and threw the big bad villain into the prison to be locked away forever. He was supposed to have his happy ending. He was supposed to have the bright sun shining overhead, bringing joy and laughter. 

He wasn’t supposed to have storm clouds over his head that threaten to shower him with more pain and despair.

It wasn’t fair.

He hated how everything wasn’t fair. He was already beginning with his hotel and he finally had time to spend with Tubbo. They were friends again—that was until he was trapped in the godforsaken prison and died by Dream’s hand. It’s like he couldn’t escape this hell with Dream—the afterlife was nothing compared to all the pain and despair he is feeling just walking amongst the living. Tommy wondered if this was what hell felt like and if he truly died—he couldn’t seem to find a break. He closed his eyes and breathed in shakily, recalling his previous anger at Sam for kicking and dragging him out. He couldn’t understand the Warden. He was on his side in one moment and the next he’s forcing him to sacrifice Ghostbur and being crueler than Dream. 

He let out a shaky breath and looked up at Tubbo and Ranboo. He couldn’t even meet their eyes as all the fight left him and he slumped his shoulders forward. He refused to cry but he just had enough of—of everything. He swallowed thickly as he gripped the lead that kept Friend close to him tightly, his bottom lip trembling as he regarded his friends, “Hey…” he muttered weakly, pitiful.

“Tommy…” Tubbo reached out while Ranboo stood back, rubbing his arm in an attempt at comfort.

“Where’s… Where’s Ghosbur?” Ranboo asked worriedly, hesitant, looking from Tommy to the empty space behind him as if expecting the cheery being to pop up out of nowhere.

Tommy swallowed, breathing in before letting it out. He looked at the two, hating how his voice shook as he delivered the news, “I think- I think Ghostbur is dead.” 

And wasn’t that news? Big news, enough that Tubbo and Ranboo looked and sounded so taken aback. There was silence for a minute as Tommy stewed in his raging thoughts, eyes wide as he suddenly processed this fact. He knew that Ghostbur had been killed. He had seen Dream twist his neck and snap it, despite being a ghost. He heard the terrible scream that cut into silence. 

He had heard and seen everything—yet everything didn’t settle until now. He hadn’t processed it fully—he hadn’t believed it fully. 

Now that he said it outloud—declared it to the world, he felt...empty. He felt useless and nothing could ever comfort him. Even the looks on Tubbo and Ranboo’s faces confirmed what he had said. It was real. He wasn’t imagining it.

“I—I think he’s dead.” Tommy stuttered out again, hoping for a reaction, words—anything. He stepped forward, stumbling in his steps and tugging on the lead as he looked at the two desperately. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, as he clutched onto Tubbo’s body. Tommy gripped his shoulders, shaking him slightly as he uttered one more final time—and it was final, it was true, and nothing can change that- “He’s dead.”

Tubbo cleared his throat, throwing Ranboo a fleeting glance and—and Tommy scowled. He wasn’t crazy, why did the two look at him like he was? He was telling them the truth. He knew Ghostbur was dead—he was gone and dead and why did the two of them look at him like he was crazy?!

“Tommy, we- we know he’s dead.” Tubbo whispered, clearly not understanding what Tommy was trying to say. He shook his head and scowled. He let go of Tubbo’s arms and backed up, almost hysterical in his movement. He scowled when Tubbo and Ranboo exchanged another look. 

“Ghostbur is dead.” Ranboo stated and Tommy was so aware of the way the hybrid had emphasized the word and—he hissed at the taller teen. He narrowed his eyes at the two as he shook his head and stumbled away, moving in no particular direction. 

“You don’t—you don’t understand what I’m trying to say.” Tommy stammered, his voice slurring at how fast he was speaking. He stumbled away from the two, almost face planting into the river when his legs slipped in. He cursed under his breath as he trudged along the water, looking at the two almost desperately. “It’s not- it’s not that he’s dead, he’s going to get Wilbur back.”

“What?” Tubbo’s voice was full of disbelief and Tommy didn’t have to look back to know that his eyes were wide as well. He muttered under his breath as he pulled himself up the river bank, his pants legs soaking wet as he pulled at the lead. Friend somehow managed to match his pace as he continued to walk, eyes unseeing as he panicked internally at the implications of what happened in the prison. He hated everything, he hated that this was happening to him.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘Wilbur is back’?” Ranboo’s voice floated from behind him as he paced. Tommy scowled as he tugged at his hair, relentlessly trying to figure out what he had to do now, “Do you mean the ‘push button and blow everything up’ Wilbur?”

Tommy let out a sharp laugh, “Ha ha, Ranboo. Very funny, you’re apathetic like this because you think- you think Wilbur and I were friends, huh?” 

“No- I- I just don’t understand.” Ranboo responded and Tommy stopped his pacing. He scowled and met Ranboo’s eyes head on. They stared at each other for a solid minute before Ranboo began to shift uncomfortably and averted his eyes. He rubbed his arm nervously while Tommy huffed. “Can you...explain it to us?” 

“When we were in prison, to kill Dream… we—were there.” Tommy swallowed thickly, his throat drying up suddenly as he recalled it all. His eyes glazed over as he recalled flashes of the events that happened just minutes prior. He realized his breathing was irregular when Tubbo placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in concern. He shook his head and continued on, “We were there and then Ghostbur died and… Wilbur revived Ghostbur.”

Tubbo frowned, a bit confused, “I don’t think we understand, Tommy.”

“You don’t- you two don’t understand?” Tommy’s breath hitched as he backed away from them. He shoved his head into his hands as he let out a string of panicked ‘no’s. He sucked in a breath before looking at his two friends, “Wilbur is back, you guys—he’s- oh god there’s only one way to know-”

He turned away from them sharply, rushing towards a set direction as he set his mouth into a determined line. He wasn’t able to walk that fast with Friend trailing behind him so the two were able to catch up to him. He ignored their concerned stares as he continued to walk towards L’manberg like a man on a mission. He was more than aware of how the revival book worked—somewhat. He knew that the person who was revived would appear where they died—it happened to him when he was revived. Instead of appearing anywhere else, he appeared back in the cell where he had died. At least, that was his guess. If he was wrong and Wilbur was dragged into the prison cell with Dream from the afterlife, he would definitely help the Dream escape. 

He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as he continued on his trail. He could hear Ranboo run to catch up to him before he heard his voice, “I thought you and him were friends, Tommy.”

“We are not friends.” Tommy snapped. He knew they were more—brothers even but that all changed when Wilbur went crazy and stopped being a brother. It all stopped when Wilbur started caring about his ideals and his thoughts and stopped caring about Tommy and everyone else around him. He stopped being his brother when he started acting crazy. “We are not fucking friends, Ranboo.”

“I know he did bad stuff,” Ranboo sounded nervous but Tommy didn’t care. How dare he think they were friends? Wilbur was horrible to him and he ruined everyone’s dreams when he first blew up L’manberg. The country he cared about and fought tooth and nail for. Tommy had trusted that Wilbur had changed his mind when they won. He had felt so proud that they got their country. He was so happy that Wilbur was finally seeing things in his view. That he had given L’manberg another chance. 

He was dead wrong. 

“I just thought he was kinda your friend?” Ranboo continued, cutting the blonde.

“No, Wilbur- he was nothing.” Tommy choked out, gritting his teeth as memories flashed by. When they were alone in the ravine they called Pogtopia, when L’manberg blew up, when Tommy died and he met Wilbur again the afterlife. All of those moments were testament to Tommy’s mistake in reading Wilbur. He thought he had changed when he didn’t. “I thought he changed but he never does. He never changes, Ranboo, and now he’s back.”

He continued to march towards L’manberg as the two followed him. He wasn’t able to see them exchange a confused glance from behind him, but he didn't care. He had a goal to reach and he had to prove it to the two. Wilbur was alive. Dream had threatened him—he threatened him and Dream always makes do with his threats. He was never one to bark without a bite. He had threatened death to Tommy and he killed him in cold blood just to revive him again. 

Dream was a loose cannon but Wilbur was a lit explosive. Both dangerous and easily triggered but Wilbur more so. He played by his own rules and that’s what scared Tommy the most.

“If he’s revived-” Tommy began to explain, sparing a glance behind him as he continued to speed walk towards his destination, “-he’s going to be in the place he died.” 

He hoped—he hoped that Wilbur wasn’t in the prison with Dream because who knows what the two would do. He hoped that he was right that reviving someone would drag them back to the place they died. He hoped that Wilbur was not inside the prison. It would be so easy if Wilbur was outside—maybe he could change his mind. Maybe distract him from saving Dream. Maybe he can put Wilbur on some stupid quest or belief that could distract him long enough to think of another plan to kill Dream. 

“Oh god…” Tubbo whispered from behind and Tommy nodded frantically. He could see from the corner of his eye as Tubbo sped up a bit while he tugged at Ranboo to follow him along. 

“Wilbur will be at L’manberg.” Tommy muttered under his breath, focusing back on his path as he hurriedly made his way back to the nation he put his entire heart and soul into. 

“Oh no...” Tubbo groaned, his voice sounding somber as he dragged out the word. Tommy could just imagine him dragging a hand down his face but he shook that thought away.

“You need to come with me, you two.” Tommy spoke hurriedly as he gestured for them to follow him. Had he been standing, he’d be tapping his foot on the ground as he waited for them to catch up to him properly. When the two were at his side he let out a breath, “Okay good, we can- do you have any armor?”

When he was given the armor, he hurriedly strapped it on. He didn’t know what state of mind Wilbur was in when he was revived but it sure as hell wasn’t sane, that’s for sure. Tommy hissed under his breath as his hand caught on a sharp part of the chestplate and he shook it off, ignoring how it bled to the ground. He looked at the two and nodded at them. Tubbo sighed while Ranboo sent him a concerned look. When he was sure he could move properly with the added weight, he turned and started walking to L’manberg again.

“I was—I was in the prison and—why did you tell me the plan would work?” Tommy turned and glared at Tubbo as they walked across the riverbank. With Friend stalling them quite a bit, Tommy decided to shift the conversation to the plan. The horrid plan that got ruined and started this entire thing. 

“I told you the plan would work because I didn’t think you’d pull out the axe in front of Sam.” Tubbo explained slowly as he narrowed his eyes at Tommy. He crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look, “Like, what did you even think when you did it?”

“That’s it, Tubbo! I didn’t think!” Tommy hissed low as he backed up from his friend, the water flowing against his legs as Friend slowly made their way to his side. “I just—I didn’t fucking think—just come with me.”

He turned away from them, intent on hiding how some of his tears spilled down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly. He tugged at Friend’s lead and led them to the shore, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as he did. He hated how weak he felt at that moment. How much adrenaline had coursed through his veins as he saw the stupid face Dream was making. He hated how his knees had shook when he stood before him and how—without thinking of any consequences, he had taken the axe out. He was intent on killing Dream long before he could even have the slightest chance of speaking or reaching out to Tommy. That thought process had led to his downfall and now, here he was—panicking uselessly as he realized that Wilbur could be alive.

“Maybe—maybe he’s different?” Ranboo piped up from behind as they reached the edges of L’manberg. “You know, he spent a lot of time in the afterlife, he might’ve changed?”

“No.” Tommy scowled, sniffling a bit as he looked around the remains of his country. How glass covered the blown up remains to avoid accidents where people would fall in and die. “He’s not different, Ranboo… I’ve been there and I’ve seen him. He’s so much fucking worse.”

As they walked around L’manberg, Tommy couldn’t help but let his eyes wander towards the area that brought the most dread to him—the button room. He shivered at the thought, how the room merely had a single button but it had decided the fate of an entire nation. It wasn’t that intimidating at first but now, if he looked back to it, it felt even more dreadful and cold. So very cold. 

He swallowed and pushed those thoughts away as he chose to ramble instead. “If you didn’t know… What happened was that I held the axe when I thought I could kill Dream, when I would strike first. I didn’t think—I didn’t think I’d do it early, I know you said not to do it early but I saw Dream and it just—I just moved on my own and I just fucking…”

“So, you fucked it up.” Ranboo deadpanned and Tommy whirled around to glare heatedly at the hybrid. He scowled when the taller teen merely raised his hands and shrugged, “What?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t fuck it up. Nevermind.” Tommy huffed, turning back and away from Ranboo. He let his eyes roam the remains of his country—his nation and felt himself tear up again. He scowled and rubbed at his eyes uselessly, “Nevermind, let’s just—where the fuck could he be?”

“Maybe where Phil was trying to revive him?” Ranboo suggested as he kicked at a stray pebble. Tommy turned to him with a raised eyebrow and Ranboo shrugged, “I remember he said that it was the button room—or at least, what was left of it?”

“Maybe he’s not here though...” Tommy whispered to himself as he moved towards the stupidly built shrine. It was so stupid, he didn’t fucking think a revival coul be this gaudy. It looked horrible, even for his taste. He hoped to every being out there that Wilbur was not revived. He hoped that for once, he got a lucky break. “Maybe—maybe- did we do it?”

“Maybe it’s a false alarm?” Tubbo added with a small smile as they made their way up to the shrine that Phil had built. Tommy turned back and smiled a bit at that. Of course, Tubbo knew what to say to make him feel at ease. 

“Maybe Ghostbur just like—kinda just died,” Ranboo added with a shrug and a nervous smile. Tommy snorted at that thought, feeling the recesses of the guilt and shame crawl up and close in on his throat. “Maybe the book doesn’t work or—or it’s just a one time thing, y’know?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s just a one time thing,” Tubbo agreed earnestly, nodding as he eagerly jumped to agree with Ranboo. Tommy snorted at that and pulled himself up onto the platform, tugging at Friend while also giving a hand to Tubbo.

“Maybe it’s just a one time deal…” Ranboo whispered, muttering under his breath as he tried to calm himself as well. Tommy wanted to feel bad for the other but a small part of him was glad he wasn’t the only one who was panicking at this moment. Tubbo—he had been so apathetic for a while, especially after his death (at least, that’s what he heard from Ranboo). It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one on edge. 

Tommy turned around—and almost stumbled back, falling from the height as his eyes were blown wide. His breath stuttered as Tubbo stood beside him, eyes equally as wide as they both stared at the same figure in front of them. They both whispered as they took in how the man looked, “Oh no…”

The man before them had dirty blonde hair that was messed up—almost as if he had just gotten out of bed. His face was clean of any scars but it was littered with tiny little dots—freckles, Tommy realized belatedly. He was wearing a standard white hoodie with—at this, Tubbo reached out almost instinctively towards Ranboo’s hand as it shook. He stepped closer to the hybrid as he whispered comforting words at his slight panic at the sight of the multiple smiley faces that were oh-so reminiscent of a certain villain’s mask that it was almost terrifying. 

While the two had their moment, Tommy let out a string of ‘no’s as he met the bright green eyes of the figure. A bright emerald green almost like the beautiful grass as the sun hit it the right way. How it glowed with a mixture of emotions and recognition. A color that was so hauntingly familiar it made him take a step back as his mind was thrown into a panicked daze. This was worse than anything he had ever imagined. This was even worse than Wilbur being revived. This was just—this was not Tommy Innit’s day at all. 

If the trio just looked a little closer, they’d have realized that this was not the man they knew. If they looked closer at the lack of scars on the man, they’d realize he wasn’t from this world. If they looked a little closer at his body language, they’d realize he was too calm to belong in their war torn world. If they looked just a little bit closer, they’d realize that Dream’s eyes (both of them-) were a brighter green than the usual murky green that belonged to the villain. If they stopped and thought for a minute, they’d realize this was not a war waging tyrant but a confused and displaced man in his pajamas. Gone was the eye-straining orange prison uniform.

But they didn’t look closer because all they could think of was how this man wasn’t in his prison cell.

The man seemed to be in a daze of his own, muttering a question to himself as he looked around and then settled on staring at them with familiarity shining in his eyes. It wasn’t long before his gaze settled on Tommy and he whispered in a familiar (but at the same time unfamiliar-) voice- “Tommy?”

Tommy’s breath hitched and he felt himself spiral internally. He didn’t—he didn’t want this, he didn’t—he couldn’t handle this. He stepped back, clenching his hands into a fist as he drew them close to his chest. He could faintly hear Tubbo and Ranboo taking a step back as well, keeping their own distance from the escaped villain. Tommy didn’t realize that he had opened his mouth until he screamed out a familiar and hated name-

“DREAM?!”

Chapter Text

Dream didn’t know what was going on with him nor did he know where he was exactly. If he looked around and wracked his sleep-addled brain, he’d recognize a more...lifelike version of L’manberg. At least, he thought it was L’manberg based on the familiar flag that hung on the shrine in front of him. A shrine that, upon further inspection, was made out of pure gold. Pure gold. 

He was… He was still dreaming, right?

Who the fuck would make a shrine out of pure gold and—holy shit, were those diamonds and emeralds? Dream squinted at the bright shrine before him, a flash of recognition upon actually looking at it properly. He gasped as he continued to look around him in a daze, the sleepiness ebbing away just slightly, blinking at everything that was presented to him. This was—all of this was too familiar but it was too real to be true. He licked his lips and muttered to himself about his whereabouts, before his eyes caught three people. 

He looked at them, recognizing two of them immediately. The bright blonde hair of Tommy catching the light from the shrine just right and almost blinding him right beside the shorter frame of his brunette friend—Tubbo. He gaped and whispered out his name, unsure if he was just seeing things or if he was even in a dream- “Tommy?”

What were Tommy and Tubbo doing here? They’re supposed to be sleeping in their shared room with Ranboo-

“DREAM?!” Tommy screamed at him, eyes wide in—was that fear and anger? 

Dream took a step back as he looked closer at the two. For a quick second, he wondered why the two were wearing armor and outfits that were similar. No, not even similar but exactly what their minecraft skins were portrayed to wear. His gaze slipped to the side as he tried to figure out who the taller and monochrome male was as he stood-

Wait a fucking second. Was that Ranboo’s minecraft skin? 

He stumbled back a bit, spluttering when Tommy (was it really Tommy? He looked like Tommy but he had too many scars and his eyes burned with anger and-) started moving forward and drew a sword-

Holy shit- where did that sword come from?! 

“You fucking bastard!” Tommy screamed, his voice hitting a high pitch as he immediately positioned the sharp blade under Dream’s neck. Out of habit and instinct (he had been stopped by the cops quite a lot as a kid but none of them ever pointed a goddamn sword at his face, holy shit this was a first-), he raised his hands and backed up a bit with a nervous laugh. He kept his gaze on the sharp blade as Tommy continued to speak to him, gulping when feeling the coldness radiating from the weapon, eyes flickering up to find the young blonde snarling with loathing in his cold blue eyes. “How the fuck did you get out of prison, you fucking villain! Did Wilbur get you out?! Is he alive, too?! Did you use more of your stupid voodoo magic to get out?! Answer me, you sick bastard!”

Dream spluttered, eyes wide as he tried to process Tommy’s words. Before he could fully process everything, his mouth opened and he was already spilling with apologies- “I’m sorry- I, uh- I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t-”

“Stop with your fucking lies, Dream!” Tommy hissed, pushing the sword closer to the man’s throat, the older blonde trying not to yelp when the blade grazed his skin (he was so lucky it didn’t create a scratch-). “I’m fucking done with your manipulation! I’m so sick and tired of your fucking face!”

Dream flinched at the way Tommy had spat out his name (his gut twisted uneasily at the venom in his voice-), swallowing nervously as he tried to seem as non-threatening as possible. His eyes traced Tommy’s face and he swore he could count the amount of small scars that littered the teen’s face. He looked so similar to the loud blonde kid he knew and adored—but there was an edge of danger and power behind him, behind this boy in front of him. While Tommy was not threatening at all, always so loud and child-like—the teen that stood before him was so different. 

He didn’t know how he could tell but he knew that the teen that held a sword to his throat knew exactly how to kill him—in numerous, painful ways. 

Dream snapped out of his mind (there went his attention span, again-) when Tommy, or whoever this teen was who had uncanny looks of the boy, pushed the blade closer. The man panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind- “You have a lot of scars! Where’d you get some of them?”

Let it be known that Dream screamed internally at himself for at least two seconds. 

He could see the way that Tommy (he’d be Tommy for now until he knew what to call the teen ‘cause it would be awkward as hell to call him ‘blonde teen’-) looked at him with the most disgusted and unimpressed face ever. Dream could even hear Tubbo snort from his spot and if he peeked at the two that stayed behind Tommy, he’d see the way Ranboo shifted on the spot. Dream gave a strained and nervous smile as he shrugged half heartedly. Tommy scowled and stepped forward, their noses almost touching as the teen clutched at the sword tightly—tight enough that his knuckles turned white. 

Jesus christ, he never knew Tommy could look so fucking terrifying-

Tommy’s hand shook, eyes so glaringly focused on his own as he gritted out, “How. The. Fuck. Did. You. Leave. The. Prison. Dream?” 

Every word he punctuated with a step forward matched with Dream’s step back to avoid the sharp blade at his throat. Dream laughed nervously as he looked from the blade to Tommy, and then moved to stare helplessly at Tubbo and Ranboo. When he received no help and reaction (rude, he was almost dying over here!), he turned back to Tommy and decided that—fuck it, if he’s going to die either way, might as well try lying his way out, right?

“I don’t know who you are or where I am!” 

Dead wrong, lying made it worse.

“You’re lying.” Ranboo pointed out, his dual toned eyes narrowed in his direction.

He got called out almost immediately, you stupid fuck!

“You recognized Tommy, at least. You said his name.” Tubbo agreed, pointing out the biggest flaw to Dream’s plan of lying.

Who the fuck allowed him to plan on the spot, he was better at Manhunts under pressure but not whatever this was!

“Stop fucking—lying, you coward.” Tommy scowled harder, pushing the blade even closer until he felt it actually nudge his skin and felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

Holy fucking shit, George was fucking right that he couldn’t lie for shit.

“Listen-” Dream tried before letting out a pathetic little ‘meep’ when the sword was shoved even closer to his neck, fear finally dawning to him how he could actually die and maybe he didn’t want that- “Wait, wait, please, just- uhh- let me explain, please? I swear I won’t—I won’t lie this time!”

“And how can we trust you, Dream?” Tommy sneered, looking at him up and down and—ah, wait, this is so familiar. Dream licked his lips as he recalled all the facts that Tommy had spouted, something about manipulation and prison. For a moment, his mind blanked for any answers before he lit up with recognition (even when he wanted nothing more than to pass out because this was too fucking real to be a damn dream-) just as Tommy opened his mouth- “You’re supposed to be-”

“-in prison?” Dream finished for him with a raised eyebrow. Tommy narrowed his eyes and growled, shoving the blade further and nicking a bit of his skin. Not enough to bleed but enough to create a thin pink line that stung. Dream was too prideful to admit he squeaked.

YEAH, ABORT, ABORT, THAT WAS HIS BIGGEST FUCKING MISTAKE. DREAM, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!

Hell, he hadn’t written a will yet, had he? Who was he going to leave his things and money to? He wasn’t trusting Sapnap or George with it, and he couldn’t even fathom leaving it all to Tommy. Listen, he loved the kid like an annoying brother to hell and back but—he’s going to go crazy just thinking of the things the teen would do with his money to spite him. He couldn’t even trust Philza Minecraft with it, the motherfucker was just as chaotic as everyone else in the goddamn mansion (he paid for everyone’s plane tickets plus the fucking mansion to have reunion even if they fought him in disagreement, fuck off). Of course, he could leave it to his family—his oh-so beloved family but he’d have to think about his friends, too. If he didn’t leave anything to them then they’d end up grave robbing him or something. He wouldn’t put it past them to do that. 

He could already imagine the funeral and his casket. Maybe even his gravestone, ‘here lies Clay, the fucking idiot who has no self preservation at all; may god smite him one more time just to give him more braincells’. It’d be laughably perfect. Sapnap would give a eulogy for him, maybe butcher it if he was lazy enough or let Tommy do it. They’d probably put roses on his coffin and make the whole funeral service some kind of party. He knew they’d cry—well, he hoped they would. Then again, if they heard how he died, they’d probably laugh and call him an idiot (cause he was an idiot, what the fuck was he thinking?!).  

Where was he—RIGHT, IMMINENT DEATH. FUCK.

“Wait—wait, don’t get the wrong idea.” Dream chuckled nervously, waving his hands around frantically as he tried to get Tommy’s attention back to him. “All I’m saying is—fuck, uh, how do I explain this?”

Dream paused and bit his bottom lip, thinking as he tapped his foot on the ground. He didn’t know how to explain it to the trio that he really wasn’t part of their world. He knew he couldn’t easily gain their trust, not when he had the face of the villain of this world (he hoped he was right and that all those sci-fi movies about parallel worlds didn’t fail him now because he could fucking die-). He breathed in and closed his eyes, lowering his hands and letting them hang limply at his side. 

Here he goes, better the truth than a lie, right? 

He hoped to god that he wasn’t wrong with his plan this time—this was looking like a life or death situation. 

He cleared his throat and began, his words coming out a little too fast even for himself- “So, I’m technically not your Dream but I’m not really sure if this is a dream or not but I am a bit familiar with this world and how everything works, maybe? I don’t know if I’m really right but I can prove it to you guys if you want and-”

“Okay wait, slow the fuck down, you’re giving me a headache.” Tommy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lowered the sword to his side (Dream breathed a big sigh of relief). He huffed and turned back to Tubbo, giving his friend a look as he gestured to Dream, “Do you believe this guy?”

“I mean, we can always try to fight him and see if he has Dream’s reflexes!” Tubbo piped in with a grin, an axe appearing in his hand and—christ where were all these teens getting their fucking weapons?! Dream just wanted to know before he got a big headache. 

There was a pause as the three looked at him and he processed Tubbo’s words properly. Promptly malfunctioning in the process. “WAIT! Wait, wait, wait, we are not—we are not going to fight!”

“It’s the only way to trust you.” Tommy drawled, raising his eyebrows at Dream.

“The smiley faces on your hoodie do not make things better for you.” Tubbo added with a tilted head, the axe still terrifyingly in his grasp. “I wouldn’t put it past Dream to have a hoodie like that!”

“I am Dream.” Dream huffed, crossing his arms with a pout as he realized the implications of Tubbo’s words. He was not self-centered and narcissistic! The smiley face was just his brand! He swore that was it! He noticed the looks on their faces and backtracked almost immediately, “Wait, I mean—I am Dream, like… people know me as Dream? But uh- I am really called Clay and fuck…”

He groaned, burying his head in his hands as he tried to make sense of what he said. He couldn’t believe himself and his stupid last minute and split second decisions. He swore he made better decisions during Manhunts and he was under more pressure at those times and—okay, maybe he wasn’t under as much pressure as right now, considering his life was actually being threatened. But the point still stands. He should’ve been better at dealing with high stress situations like this, his career on Youtube literally depended on it as it was his main theme for his videos. 

Why couldn’t he stop making bad decisions? Maybe because he was, he didn’t know, in another world where his server was real and therefore roleplaying wasn’t even a thing? Meaning he was technically fucked?

Ranboo seemed to have taken some pity on him right now (god thank the older and more reasonable teen, this was why he was the favorite—he wouldn’t say that to Tommy or Tubbo’s face if he wanted to stay alive, but still-) as he stepped into the conversation and reeled back the two bloodthirsty teens, “Okay, let’s say we trust you.”

“Thank you!”

“I’m not done.” Ranboo added swiftly, cutting his moment of celebration short. Dream quieted down and shrunk a bit under their gazes. He gave a sheepish grin and rubbed the nape of his neck. When he didn’t seem like he’d continue speaking, Ranboo nodded and continued his train of thought, “Let’s say we trust you. What do you have that can prove to us you’re not the Dream we know.”

“Ranboo, are you literally trusting him like that?” Tommy waved his hand around, and Dream was half glad it wasn’t the hand that held the fucking sword. “He might be lying again—he might be gaslighting us again!”

“Technically, if he was really Dream, would he just stick around and not, you know, kill us?” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “Seems like we’re having a semi-decent conversation with him.”

“Yeah, but he could be manipulating us!” Tommy waved his hands around, this time using his sword. Dream yelped and ducked when the blade sliced the air where his head just was. He gulped when he watched Tommy slam the blade to the ground, the tip catching the stones and getting stuck to the ground. Jesus fucking christ he could actually die and it’s not even funny.

“You’d think he’d be smart enough to know we won’t fall for his tricks again.” Ranboo crossed his arms and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, “Plus, what could he gain from pretending to not belong to this world?”

“I don’t know! He’s a fucking villain!” Tommy threw his hands to the air, huffing as he spared a glance at Dream. He, in turn, gave a nervous smile and wave. Tommy blinked, something flashing in his eyes, before he scoffed in annoyance and turned back, “Who the fuck knows what’s going on in his mind!”

And—and oh, they’re talking as if he wasn’t just right there. Dream pressed his lips into a thin line and shifted on his feet. He waited for their conversation—more of an argument really, to end. He rocked on the balls of his feet as he looked around him properly, just now having the time to take in the scenery around him. If he was right and this was the world that he and his friends had created—even started an intense and convoluted storyline in, then he could recognize where he was. If he looked beyond Tubbo and Ranboo, he could see the fragile glass platform that kept everyone safe from falling into the deep and dangerous hole where L’manberg used to stand proudly. Now, because of Dream and Tommy’s lore, it was just a big crater. 

If he looked even beyond that, he could recognize a few notable buildings, even noting the many joke buildings everyone did for fun that had no connection to the lore. So, if he was right (and it was starting to look a lot like it-), then whatever they had placed and done in the SMP, the minecraft server, it had happened here as well. With that in mind, his face twisted into a frown as he remembered all the non-lore stuff they also did around the place. Would those interactions count or was it just the buildings that got added? Would the inhabitants of this world remember more of the fun or were they just stuck playing along to the script that they had made?

Distantly, he wondered if people like Drista and DreamXD existed in this world, both of which were mostly kept outside of lore and for the shits and giggles. At least, Drista was. 

Dream hummed and he turned his gaze downwards, at the rocks that dug into his shoes (his mistake of falling asleep wearing shoes on but he was a little hungover so—he had a good reason now! His feet were safe!). If DreamXD existed because of his involvement in lore, George’s lore but lore all the same—would that mean this world had a god and that god being DreamXD? 

Even if that was the case, this entire scenario was foreign to Dream. He knew what the plot was. He was involved in the writing just as much as everyone else was depending on which storyline they were talking about. He knew what was supposed to happen, Wilbur had briefed him about it. His character (so aptly dubbed as c!Dream by his followers—of course he knew what they were talking about, he saw everything on twitter, he didn’t live under a rock) would kill Ghostbur when he entered the prison cell, traumatize Tommy a bit, and then revive Wilbur just as planned. When Tommy had streamed it, everything went according to plan, all of it happened just as the plot said it would.

Then, what changed here?

He looked around and noted how he was at the shrine that Wilbur appeared in, if he remembered correctly when he watched Tommy’s stream at that time. When Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo found Wilbur, the revived man was supposed to go on and on with his speech and ideals. This felt like that exact scene but instead of Wilbur, it was him. Instead of traumatizing the teens further, he was trying to prove his innocence.

A part of him wondered if this was like those fics he read (and yes, he didn’t just read the ship fics about Dreamnotfound—they get old really quick when the formula got a little too repetitive with stereotypes, and he was always curious how their fans wrote about the SMP as a whole and other ‘characters’ other than him) where some characters switched places with their supposedly ‘irl selves’ (as the authors call them). The problem was, Dream was always portrayed as the villain and the cause of those switches. Maybe because of some evil plot of taking over the world, or maybe it was to highlight just how much worse his character could be if he existed in the real world. He couldn’t blame the authors, really—he made his character evil on purpose, he was the main villain and antagonist of the entire story, backstory or not. 

Now here lies the real problem.

Why in the ever loving fuck was he the one that switched? Usually it was Tommy or Wilbur! Hell, he thought he read one about Eret too! Not that he wanted his friends to face this (fuck no, he’d rather have the sword trained on him rather than his friends), but still. Even worse, the switch usually happened further down the story, somewhere far back in the lore, not as recent as this! What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He’d only ever read about Tommy being coddled by everyone and protected because he wasn’t used to the world. He never read about how to prove anything to them! Especially if it’s him. 

It just now dawned on Dream how fucked he was at the moment. He was the main villain of everyone’s story. No one here was on his side, he had no one to coddle him and tell him it was okay. He had isolated his character and now that he was in his place—he had isolated himself. All familiar faces turned enemies, all friendly banter turned sharp and acidic. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be—facing these caricatures of his closest friends (hell, they were his family in his world) and seeing them absolutely hate him. 

While he could argue that this world didn’t exist, that this was all just a story they made and in reality they really cared for him just as much as he cared for them—it was hard. It was so hard, especially since now he was faced with the reality that this might not be real to him but it was real to someone—to so many people. The story he and his friends (family) had created was real to someone and it made him sick just remembering all the things he made his character do for the sake of drama. For entertainment. For the fans.

Dream swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. There was no need to dwell on these kinds of things right now (god, he overthinks too much-). He was going to get out of this fine and he was going to find a way to prove to the three teens that he didn’t immediately want to kill all of them. He let out his breath and looked up, catching the tail end of the trio’s conversation about what exactly they should do about him.

“-just ask him!” Tubbo threw his hands into the air, running them through his hair as he huffed. His axe had disappeared, and where the fuck did it go? 

Tommy waved his hands around in such a familiar way that it made Dream’s gut churn as the boy turned around and fixed him with a glare, “So?”

“Uh- what?” Dream stuttered out really helpfully. 

Tommy groaned while Tubbo let out a long and deep sigh. Ranboo (and god was this kid helpful as fuck, he’s like the only one out of the three with working braincells-) stepped up and gave the most comforting smile he could muster. It was more nervous and he seemed to grimace than smile but Dream would take it. Ranboo cleared his throat and explained, “We were wondering if you have any way to prove that you’re telling the truth.”

“Oh…” Dream paused, looking at the three. He could easily tell them about his world but it might sound a bit surreal to them. He didn’t even know what to say to make them believe him without sounding absolutely crazy. “I don’t…”

There was a beat of silence before the three sighed in frustration and Dream had to stop himself from blurting out an apology (they probably wouldn’t appreciate it). He shoved his hand into his hoodie pocket but blinked when the trio stiffened. He licked his lips and pulled his hand out, showing them he had nothing and-

-oh god was that his fucking phone?

The existence of the small black box made Dream conflicted as multiple thoughts popped in his head.

On one hand, this was finally a way for him to prove to the trio that he wasn’t from their world. He could show them the videos he had saved and hoped to whatever god out there (DreamXD was probably their god, which didn’t really make sense considering he played DreamXD-) that it worked even in this war-torn world. He wondered if this was what it felt like to have plot armor (he kept jokingly mentioning it to Tommy whenever the kid’s character got what he wanted in the end and still didn’t die) because if that was the case—he’s going to love being the main character, whether that sounded so narcissistic or not.

Bitch, please- anything for survival.

On the other hand, the three saw the object and seemed to tense further. Their eyes moved from the box to him, weapons already in their hands. He could almost feel his soul leave his body just seeing the sharp blades that would no doubt slice through him like butter (or cake- man, he should stop letting Sapnap and George show him those stupid videos where everything was cake). He chuckled and drew his hands close, bringing them to his chest as he fumbled with his phone. As he did, the little box lit up and made the three tense even further as they narrowed their eyes at him. 

“Wait! Wait!” Dream waved his hands and cringed when he realized the phone was facing them. He cleared his throat and shoved the phone back into his pajama pocket (his beloved pocket that practically saved his life, he loved plot armor now). He turned back to the three and gave them a nervous smile, “That—that was how I’m going to explain to you! It has my proof… hopefully.”

Either the other three didn’t hear him mutter the last word or they didn’t care since they calmed down a bit and lowered their weapons. Tommy huffed and brought his hand up and—holy shit where the fuck did his sword disappear to? Did inventories exist? How come he saw nothing? “Alright, fine. Whatever. Show us your proof.”

As if on cue, lightning struck from behind them all of a sudden and thunder rumbled in the dark skies, causing Dream to jump while the teens remained unfazed. He blushed slightly when they gave him a stare and he swiftly averted his gaze. Tubbo blinked before he sighed, moving to grab at Tommy’s arm, “It’s going to rain and I don’t want to get wet.”

“But we have to-“

“We can always go to Snowchester.” Ranboo suggested from the side, moving forward to stand by Dream. In his hands was a netherite sword that glowed with enchantments. Dream looked at the weapon in awe (holy fuck were the animations cooler in real life-) before he backed up when it was waved in front of his face. “We can talk there since it’s pretty close.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Tommy crossed his arms, stomping ahead with Tubbo trailing behind him. He stopped when he was right beside Dream and narrowed his eyes at the man, “You’re on thin fucking ice, you bastard.” He growled, glaring, before tugging a blue sheep back to him (a blue sheep? What the fuck?).

Dream swallowed and raised his hands up. He backed up a bit until his back hit Ranboo and he sent the taller teen an apologetic smile, one that was surprisingly returned, albeit a little awkwardly. 

“Right…”

“Plus, Snowchester has more privacy and if he isn’t really the Dream we know…” Tubbo gave him a side glance as they began walking away from the remains of a once great nation. “Then it’d be safer to keep him away from any of our Dream’s enemies in case they stumble in front of him and try to kill him.”

Dream let out a dry laugh, locking his eyes to the road in front of him with Tommy leading the way.

This was going to be fun (read: no, it was not, and he was going to fucking die). 

When Dream could feel himself waking up, he wanted to shoot up from the bed he knew he was still laying on, to throw the sheets away from his body and scramble to get away from danger and being in an unfamiliar territory.

Instead, he took a moment to recollect his thoughts and emotions, to recall what happened, and tried not to fall into another panic attack.

Dream rolled to his side, clutching the sheets to his chest and buried his face in it, inhaling the calming scent and practically melting at the warmth that enveloped his entire body despite the slight chill he could feel circulating in the air. He opened his eyes, staring at the nightstand beside him and nearly let out a sound of fear knowing that he didn’t dream of feeling warmth, of seeing the night sky and the moon-

Of seeing George and Sapnap.

He clenched his eyes closed, burying further into his pillows and released a shuddering breath. With his head clearing, he tried to think of a plan to escape unnoticed. He was in a different...house. Something he was not familiar with—no doubt a new building that was made while he was rotting in prison (Dream tried not to remember that hellhole, the place of heat and the cold and loneliness and starvation and torture and insanity he wouldn’t even subject any living breathing being to go through the same-).  

“Fuck…” Dream cursed under his breath, pushing himself up to a sitting position when realizing he didn’t get a good look outside that’s not up. If he wasn’t so entranced and distracted by missing the moon, he would’ve stared down at the building, seeing where he could try and escape as best as he could with a weak and pathetic body.

Only to pause when his eyes gazed down at his wrist, seeing his sleeves roll down to reveal clean bandages wrapped around it. He furrowed his eyebrows, grasping the material and tugged it down to his elbow.

Clean, white bandages. No redness seeping through from too much blood that couldn’t be treated properly before getting covered. And immediately, he scrambled and hunched over, lifting the hem of his shirt and felt his eyes bug out. More clean bandages—and it was actually wrapped around his entire torso, something he failed to do alone after every torture session and gave up to focus on his arms and legs (which probably wasn’t a good idea because the deep cuts caused by the shears were too dangerous to be left untreated but Dream, being the stubborn son of a bitch he was—waited to respawn when the blood loss killed him. The wounds stayed after, but at least he didn’t have to lose that much blood until the wound slowly closed up-). Kicking the sheets further, he was going for his legs, to pull them up and see if his legs were patched as well-

But stopped when his head finally registered the—clothes he was wearing in the first place.

He stared at the designs, ignoring how he was wearing the softest, silkiest pair of pink pajamas ever—because he was greeted to the sight of small, blocky pig designs scattered all over the fabric. With… With a crown. Stitched on its head. Several heads, really.

It wasn’t hard to conclude this had to be Techno’s doing. But—why was the piglin version of the retired warrior’s face so—pixelated? The eyes were...odd, too. Black and white, and he couldn’t tell which ones were the pupils (and he was pretty sure the piglin-hybrid had redstone eyes-). What the fuck? He better not be wearing whatever the fuck Techno would wear before going to bed or something (did Techno even sleep?). Not even question where the hell did the anarchist even find such a silky and soft material that couldn’t just be sewn from a sheep’s wool.

Was Techno here, too? But he didn’t—Dream didn’t even cash in on the favor-

Dream paused, his nose twitching, and swiveled back to the nightstand (the only source of light being the lamp and the rising sun from outside the window) to see a bowl of soup on top of a tray, a spoon wrapped in tissue beside it. There was a bit of steam emitting from the bowl, a telltale someone had recently dropped by mere minutes before his body woke up from getting the rest he most definitely (and shouldn’t-) deserve. It...looked like mushroom stew, but there appeared to be little bits of...vegetables? What? Was that even good? He didn’t even know extra ingredients could be added.

A small grumble sounded from his stomach and he winced, placing a hand over it. His eyes moved back to the stew, swallowing back the drool from how delicious the aroma was itself. It… It wouldn’t hurt to try a spoonful, right?

Dream hesitated, hands itching to wrap around the spoon. No, he berated himself, reeling his arm back and hugged himself, fingers digging into his sleeve-covered bandages as if hoping it could rip through, to hold back the urge to fill his stomach with something good, something that could make him feel satisfied after eating. A satisfaction he hadn’t felt for a long time ever since all he was served were raw potatoes.

The soup could be poisoned for all he knew. There’s—there’s no way they’d be that merciful to give him something that looked and smelled appetizing, right? Best they could give him was baked potatoes. Even burnt was fine as long as it wasn’t—raw (anything but the raw potatoes- they turned bad and spoiled and even poisonous he would shove his fingers down his throat to get rid of the taste until his throat fucking burned-).  

Was this a trick? If Techno did get him out, why was George and Sapnap here? Maybe—maybe the others asked Techno to get him out to trick him into false security and send him back inside because there’s no fucking way the Warden would allow it. No—no there’s- there’s no way Quackity would let him get a taste of freedom for even a second and it felt like Dream passed out for longer than he should have-

Fuck- he had to get out of here-

He understood he should pay for all his crimes, be punished for all the hell and pain he put everyone through (because of his twisted morality, his desperation for that taste of peace, of freedom, of happy times and laughter and joy-), but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back or stay in that prison cell—the same fucking prison that broke all hopes and chances of possible redemption and his eagerness to apologize to the people he cherished (he’s so sorry, he’s so fucking sorry, please just listen, hear him out, don’t let his false mask fool you, he was just scared no one understood but he should’ve known it only pushed them away please don’t leave him-) but he couldn’t because no one would listen or try to reach a hand out—all they saw was a tyrant, a villain, someone who claimed the land and had the right to do whatever he wanted with it as if that wasn’t the plan in the first the moment he created said land-

With a choked gasp, Dream scrambled out of the bed, retching the sheets off of his body and instinctively prepared to lunge for the window to jump and run—to hell with the fall damage he was going to take. He knew he was going to respawn in this bed but he’d rather not die or his death message might be seen by the Warden.

But he was, once again and unsurprisingly, negligent of his physical well-being.

Dream yelped, legs immediately flaring up in pain and causing his body to stumble and fall over the floor. He cried out, voice cracked and dry as he felt his eyes burn with tears, sucking in a sharp breath when his body prickled in protest from moving too much and too fast. 

He sniffled, biting his tongue to blood to hold in a whimper. Dream tried to prop himself up with his elbows but that alone had him tear up more, a few traitorous tears cascading down his face. He felt his bottom lip trembling, placing his forehead back on the carpet floor and just...laid there. Pathetic and helpless. He didn’t know the most recent torture session was that bad to the point his whole body shut down but still enough to keep him from actually dying and respawning.

...No, wait, with this amount of pain, he should’ve been dead by now, respawned—why didn’t he die-

Dream was cut off from his thoughts when hearing the sounds of heavy thuds, footsteps getting closer and closer to the door a few feet away from him. And then the door knob was twisting open, and Dream’s breathing got heavier and faster and once it was pushed open—Dream forgoed how much his body protested and screamed as he sat upright and scrambled back, kicking his legs before his back was unfortunately hit against the same damn nightstand, belatedly hearing the tray clatter, but all he could focus on with wide eyes was at an unfamiliar face standing by the door, just as surprised as Dream was but more or less composed.

Short but curly brown hair with matching brown eyes. He was wearing a green hoodie with—with a smile (that looked exactly like his mask-) stitched on the front that fit his physique. It would've made Dream laugh if he wasn’t busy panicking at the sight of a—of a stranger, someone he didn’t know. The man’s eyes only widened a fraction at the sight of him, but only slightly and briefly before returning to its normal, almost half-lidded state behind rectangular-rimmed glasses. Glasses that he was sure he had seen before.

Why did that seem so familiar-

“You know, you shouldn’t even be walkin’ when you’re practically wrapped like a mummy, Dream.” The man mused with a small, barely-there smile, raising an eyebrow as something...fond (fond? Why was he fond-) flitted through his dark orbs, voice smooth and low and-

Monotone.

Dream froze in shock, mind stuttering as he tried to catch up to the new piece of information his brain supplied him. No wonder he seemed so familiar-

“T-Techno?” he whispered, small and quiet as he squeezed himself even further against the hard furniture digging his back, uncaring if it could reopen his wounds with how he was beginning to feel a spike of pain akin to needles poking him everywhere.

The man paused, regarding him with unreadable eyes that gave Dream more proof he was the one and only Blade (because Dream could never read him, could never know whether he got on his good side or his bad side other than bickering with a tinge of fear because he lost to him, lost to the person he saw as a rival yet trusted as an ally but he never responded back when Dream tried to call him for the last time-).  

Then he heard a snort, the brunette stuffing his hands in his hoodie’s pocket as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sure, you can call me that, you nerd.” He huffed a brief chuckle, his smile more genuine and relaxed. It was too genuine and real to be unreadable, something Techno should be good at especially around him, something that terrified Dream because he couldn’t tell if it was false.

But he wasn’t unreadable right now and that was frightening.

Dream blinked, gaping, disbelief and utter confusion filling his head. He—He must be dreaming. There’s no way in hell Technoblade’s voice was coming out of—of that person, a brunette, an actual nerd, who didn’t look like he could even lift a stone pickaxe. Maybe Technoblade had a secret twin? But he—he had some history with Wilbur, Tommy, and Philza, so there’s no way he could have a twin. Or a sibling? The tall piglin-hybrid had long pink hair so iconic with sharp blood-red eyes. Something too unique for the hybrid. If Dream could ever guess the Blade having a sibling, they should look somewhat similar with hair and eye color. Was this another form, perhaps? Technoblade could turn into an actual piglin and his human form with small piglin characteristics, he wouldn't be that surprised if that was the case. But why a form that looked so...fragile. Vulnerable. Didn’t even look like he could fight.

While Dream was busy having a little crisis of getting his bearings together, he failed to notice how the man’s face fell to a smaller smile, this time sad, a small grimace filled with grief, before pushing himself off the door. Only when he saw someone crouching in front of him did Dream snap out of his musings to flinch, peering up the brunette with wide eyes, no doubt his fear obvious (Dream knew he could take him down no problem, if this was Techno or not with such a...normal form, too civilian-like, but he doubted he could lift his own arm without crying out from the pain-).

But instead of doing anything possibly threatening, the man—Technoblade, cocked his head and smiled, offering a hand that had Dream do everything in his power to refrain from flinching again. He wasn’t very successful in that regard, but whether the other noticed or not, he didn’t react whatsoever. He just...kept on smiling, which was a weird thought in of itself considering how the Technoblade Dream knew barely smiled unless it was filled with bloodlust and hunger for bloodshed.

“Need a little help gettin’ back on the bed? I know you’d rather do it yourself, but I’m sure we both know your body’s current state won’t be able to handle it.” Technoblade said rather offhandedly, but even Dream could tell the lingering familiarity of the sentence, as if it was something he was used to saying to him but Dream couldn’t recall anything about this version of Technoblade, nor having a relatively good relationship with the man in the first place.

Dream wanted to say no, his first response to anything with help—but he bit his tongue, pursing his lips when realizing he was right. There’s no way Dream could get up on his own, especially when he just forced himself to get up and crawl back like a cornered animal when he fell off the bed and was literally rendered immobile.

So with a defeated sigh, Dream jerked his head in a semblance of a nod, hesitantly reaching his hand out before gasping when the brunette Technoblade abruptly grabbed his hand before he could retreat and tugged him upwards.

Dream was never going to admit he squeaked in fear when he practically latched onto the other man, subconsciously noting how they were the same in height, before letting out an unconscious sob when his body burned in pain once again, legs ready to bend over if it wasn’t for Technoblade quickly wrapping his arms around his waist as if expecting this to happen. Although he grunted, clearly having a bit of a hard time handling his weight despite how thin Dream had gotten the past couple of months or so.

“Sorry if that startled you, but I thought it’d be better for both of us if I get this over with.” Technoblade answered his unsaid bewilderment, swiftly taking Dream’s arm and shifting him until that arm was looped around the brunette’s shoulder. 

Dream put his entire weight on him, swallowing down a lump in his throat to stop himself from falling into another panic attack from being touched. He licked his dry lips, “It’s—It’s fine. It would’ve taken—long, if you let me get up at my pace.” He tried to reassure, but he wasn’t sure what for and why. Maybe it was a reflex to reason, to butter up to their side since he had done the same to Quackity (in hopes to lessen the pain, to spare him a bit more, to stop it from hurting-).  

Technoblade gave him a look he couldn’t read (ah, the Techno he knew, and it was beginning to unnerve him how they were too similar. Maybe this was another form-) but simply nodded. 

The brunette helped him back to the bed, Dream biting his tongue and refraining from whimpering in pain when he sat on the bed, wincing at how much it hurt all over because of all the moving he had just done prior.

Once he was settled, Technoblade turned to look at him, sitting beside him but not close enough to make him uncomfortable, “I can tell you just woke up. So are you gonna eat that or somethin’?” he motioned to the soup sitting innocently on the nightstand. 

Dream tried not to make a face at the thought of consuming that much food, even if it was soup and was most likely not poisoned (of course, he didn’t let his guard down yet). He was ready to politely decline—but of course his body refused to listen to him and let out a growl anyway. Dream instantly flushed red in embarrassment.

Technoblade blinked at him, glanced down at his stomach that was protectively clutched by the dirty blonde, and simply flashed him an amused smile, “Were you sayin’ somethin’?”

“Shut up…” Dream grumbled, reaching for the bowl and spoon and placed it on his lap with a huff he refused to admit was petulant. If he had any doubts of this lanky brunette being his only ally, well—he was damn well convinced. No one other than Technoblade could be so snarky and teasing around him (Sapnap and George used to-).

He sighed quietly, giving the thick substance inside the bowl an inquisitive look. He held the spoon between his fingers, clenching his jaw when he could barely hold it in his grip (when’s the last time he eats from a bowl filled with soup? Something other than those raw potatoes that made him lose his appetite-).  

“You don’t have to eat everythin’, you know.”

Dream nearly flinched, snapping his head back up to stare at the other male in the room. Technoblade regarded him with a knowing look, and the younger held his gaze for a few seconds before returning to the soup, forcing himself to take a spoonful and muttering a small ‘I know that’ before stuffing it in his mouth.

And then Dream barely had enough time to prepare himself when a loud moan immediately escaped his throat, flushing red just as fast when realizing how little control he had over himself once the soup coated his taste buds (fuck, it was mushroom, creamy and fucking amazing and the bits of vegetables added more flavor he didn’t know was possible-). He let the soup linger on his tongue before swallowing, purposely avoiding the other’s gaze, “S-sorry…” he apologized, cheeks aflame. It was just...so good. It’s been so long since he ate something that had flavor.

He heard a chuckle, the admin reluctantly looking back at the spectacle-wearing man. “It’s fine. I can tell it’s been a while since you’ve eaten anythin’ other than raw potatoes.” Technoblade said dismissively—but Dream froze, mouth going dry right as he took another sip.

No one ever knew Sam started giving him raw potatoes other than Quackity.

“How do you know that,”

Dream almost didn’t recognize his own voice, stiff and cold with an underlying edge of fear, his ears ringing faintly as he stared wide-eyed at the now surprised looking brunette.

Technoblade formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth before clearing his throat, straightening slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a small breather before staring straight at his green eyes, “Okay, look. This is goin’ to sound unbelievable but- here goes nothin’.” He sighed, making Dream more nervous as if he already wasn’t the moment he woke up. “You’re in a different world.”

Dream blinked, was that it? He was expecting something more...worrisome. “Like...a different server?” 

Technoblade blinked at him in return, a look of disbelief on his face as he mouthed the word ‘server’ before scoffing, though it was more to himself than at Dream. “No, Dream. I-“ he huffed, pulling his glasses off and pinched his nose bridge. He looked frustrated and Dream felt uneasy (he didn’t cause that, did he? He did the same to Quackity, though, and earned a burned tongue that made him unable to eat the raw potatoes for a few days-).

“You’re in a different world. A different universe entirely. Like an alternate reality.”

What?

“You’re kidding,” Dream chuckled, a little dry and hoarse from misuse but the sound gradually died down when Technoblade looked serious. He smiled nervously, strained, “You’re… You’re surely Technoblade, right? You- I don’t know how but you got me out and—and somehow brought George and Sapnap along? I don’t know what you’re planning, but if you’re planning to—to send me back to prison-“ 

“No! Fuck, Dream, calm down, you’re panickin’,” 

Dream didn’t notice his breathing picking up in the midst of—he didn’t know, convincing himself or something, but what he did notice was the way large hands grabbed his shoulders firmly, causing full-body flinch and terrified eyes to meet worried browns. “I-“

“Dream, we can’t—you’re not goin’ back to prison.” Technoblade stated somberly, “Because you can’t. You’re not… You’re not in your world. The prison? Your friends? Your families? They don’t exist here.” Technoblade paused, “Well, they do, just- like, a counterpart of the version you know.”

“What… What do you mean?” Dream’s voice was barely a whisper at this point, eyes wide. “What are you trying to say? You’re here, aren’t you?” he chuckled, dry and empty as he clutched the bowl tighter, “If this is your way of fooling me, if the others are telling you to fool me—it won’t work, Techno. This isn’t funny…”

Technoblade pursed his lips, “I’m sure you’ve seen how different I am, Dream. I’m not your...Technoblade. Hell, Technoblade isn’t even my real name.”

Well, he didn’t know that. But what Dream knew was how different he was in looks, too different to even compare but the personality, the voice—it’s all there. Or did Dream already know but he was trying to deny it? “It could be your other form you’ve never shown anyone before. More human, smaller, weaker in physique, and...a nerd.” He added before he could help himself, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth with apologetic eyes when the brunette blinked in disbelief.

“Seriously?” Technoblade deadpanned, clearly unimpressed with his attempts at countering his words. “As much as I’m surprised to hear I have other forms, which is somethin’ I’m dreadin’ to tell the others because of what it’s implyin’—do I even look like I’m lyin’?”

Dream bit his lip, eyes searching all over the brunette’s face and felt ansty when he couldn’t find a hint of deception. He was serious. “If… If I’m really not in my server, in a...different alternate world entirely…” he swallowed past the lump in his throat, “...how?”

Technoblade shrugged, seemingly relieved he was beginning to believe him and motioned to the bowl, reminding Dream he still had to consume something—which he obliged (his stomach was bothering him). Granted, Dream still didn’t believe him but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Do I look like an expert with this kind of shit, Dream?”

He snorted before he could help himself. It wasn’t often he heard the Blade curse, whether this was an alternate world or not (funny enough, it suits him, sounded more natural for someone of his status).  

Technoblade rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his response before snorting himself, sobering up again, “Trust me, we’re all just as confused and in denial but after takin’ a good look at you, there’s no more denyin’ the fact that you’re not...our Dream. The Dream that I know.”

Dream tilted his head, that made him a little curious. If he really was in a different world...well, who was he to hold back from asking questions? “How so?” he inquired, “Do we look different?”

“Surprisingly, not at all.” Technoblade smiled, something akin to relief and amusement in his gaze but Dream bit his tongue from asking him to elaborate (why was he relieved?). “What got us to accept the fact that you’re not our Dream—is how you have scars.” His eyes trailed down to the blonde’s body, his face unreadable but eyes burning, and Dream unconsciously tensed up. “A lot of them. Not just scars, but wounds and bruises that’s only possible to have if you’re bein’ robbed. Which definitely isn’t the case because our Dream never left his room, and this mansion sure as hell is protected as fuck for anyone to break in and destroy things. And you’re... You’re blind.” His voice cracked at that, but he composed himself just as fast that the blonde didn’t comment on it.

Dream averted his gaze, focusing his attention on the soup to finish as best as he could while keeping his ears open, “Did… Did you see…?” he whispered softly, unable to finish the sentence.

Thankfully, this...other Technoblade (as much as he hated to admit it—he was starting to believe him) seemed to have caught on. “We all did. We saw everythin’.” He paused, “Well, maybe not everythin’, but you wore orange prison clothes, somethin’ our Dream wasn’t wearin’ when goin’ to bed nor did he own anythin’ remotely close to that matchin’ pair of color, and your hair is absurdly long like it hasn’t been cut for months.”

Dream scoffed, scooping another spoonful, “Well, it has been months…” he murmured, not exactly sure how long, before sighing, “Alright.” He faced the brunette, placing the bowl back on the tray when he managed to finish most of it. “Say that I believe you and all. If I want to process everything, might as well explain how your world works.”

Technoblade brightened up just slightly, lips twitching to a small smile as his shoulders relaxed (Dream blinked, he didn’t even know the man had been tense, and it’s still...odd to see him smiling so much). “Well, we’re callin’ this the real world. Or a more...tame version, perhaps. I mean it’s still terrible. Irl SMP, I don’t know, ‘s not like both our worlds are exactly great, isn’t it?” 

Dream snorted again, reality always sucked. “Irl SMP?”

“Don’t question it, you nerd. I’m not in the mood to give this shitty world a good nickname.” Technoblade deadpanned, and the admin grinned slightly. He always enjoyed bantering with the Blood God. Good thing some things never changed (even if it’s been months since he last talked to the pinkette-).

“Are you sure I’m the nerd here?”

Technoblade’s eye twitched behind his glasses, scowling faintly with barely any heat behind it, “Shut the fuck up, Dream. Don’t even start.”

The said man snickered, pulling his feet up to the bed and folded them, “Continue.”

Rolling his eyes, Technoblade did as told, “Alright. I’m really guessin’ how your world works in comparison to ours, so all I can say is—we don’t have those three canon lives or anythin’. If we die, we die. That’s it. No respawnin’ or anythin’. Can’t revive people, too. That kind of thing doesn’t and will never exist.”

Dream’s jaw dropped, “Really?! How-“ his voice cracked, mind stuttering when suddenly realizing why he wasn’t able to die and respawn considering all the pain he had experienced upon waking up. “H-how do you-... What?”

All his life, he knew how canon lives were important. Just three canon lives. Lose all, and you’re trapped in the void forever. The only way to get out of it was revival, but only an admin had the ability to do such a thing—Dream being one of the few to have the power to control life and death. Not often did he toy it, but recently he had been playing with it to make a point (he just wanted to get out-).

So to learn that this...this world didn’t have canon lives? Just, what—one?

Technoblade shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. No doubt it wasn’t, probably more than used to knowing just once stab through the heart and they’re dead, but still—what if they get hurt so badly and lose so much blood? Dream swallowed, he decided not to linger on that thought anymore and focused back on the other man when he opened his mouth. 

“Not really ready to go into a deep dive why death here is actually permanent. But just know that it’s best if you don’t try to get yourself hurt.”

Dream inwardly shuddered, nodding his head. Looks like he couldn’t throw himself into lava to silence the flurry of thoughts and overwhelming emotions. That’s...going to be difficult. Fuck (he could barely stand his own thoughts-). 

“Noted.” 

Technoblade paused, staring at him, before snorting and shaking his head as if recalling an inside joke. Dream raised a brow in question but didn’t pry when he didn’t comment about it. “We have lots of technology and all that, blah blah blah, but here’s the difficult part-“ he sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He didn’t look excited for whatever he’s going to say next, and honestly, Dream was feeling the same. “In this world, we… we roleplay in a game called Minecraft. And the…server we roleplay in is...yours. The Dream SMP.” Technoblade met his eyes, “Whatever that happened in your world, Dream—it’s all fake in ours. It’s roleplayin’. An act. In a video game made out of blocks.”

“That’s fucking hard to believe, Techno.” Dream blurted out quickly, chuckling nervously. Or was it out of hysteria because the man wasn’t lying and Dream was hoping to Notch this didn’t mean what he was thinking. “I can believe the fact that I’m in another world, but—but the fact that the Dream SMP, all the shit that happened in my server, is...is all roleplay? Roleplay here? To you?” his voice cracked at the word when the reality of the situation dawned on him but refused to linger.

Technoblade was frowning, but there’s no pity. He was just...sad. Why was he sad? “Dream, listen—I’m not sayin’ that it’s a bad thing or anythin’. This is just an alternate world where...where the Dream SMP is roleplay. All an act. I know it sounds bad when takin’ into account of everythin’ that happened to you, as if sayin’ that all your hardships and struggles were nothin’ but an act to us—but don’t compare it. It doesn’t make you...less. We all understand, okay?”

“We?” Dream choked, fingers clutching the fabric of his pajama pants. “If—if this is really roleplay- does that mean everyone is here? In this...mansion? No one’s—no one’s fighting each other? Like, at all? Is everyone friends and all the bullshit?'' when Technoblade nodded slowly, face grim, Dream bit his tongue to hold himself back from ranting. From crying, because if everything in this world was really roleplay—that meant this world’s Dream was never thrown in prison. This Dream never lost his best friends, he still had George and Sapnap. The wars never happened. All the betrayal, the lying, the deception, the hurt, the punsihments—they weren’t fucking real.

What else? Was—was Wilbur still alive, then? He didn’t go insane and blew up his own country? Scarring everyone who lived and fought, just like Tommy? Was his part in Tommy’s exile also planned? All an act that was agreed on by both parties beforehand? Did that mean-

Did that mean this was a world where everyone’s happy? No wars, no disagreements, just—friends? They got along well? Something Dream had been longing to achieve for his server this whole time before everything went to hell? When he couldn’t get what he wanted and—what, turned into a tyrant? To someone everyone hated? Trapped, isolated, tortured beyond recognition until he was just a shell of the person he once was? Someone who adored parkour, competing in tournaments, and dueling with his favorite sparring partner?

“...Fuck me, huh. That—that’s… Huh. Ha. Haha-“

Dream chuckled, starting off slow, before he was full-blown laughing. Laughing hard and hard until he was hunched over, clutching his stomach as he wheezed. 

Technoblade hesitated, hands reaching out to place themselves on the cackling blonde’s shaking shoulders before squeezing briefly when he heard a sob escaping him. “Dream…?” his voice was tinged with worry, uncertain of what he’s supposed to do, so unlike the Techno Dream knew.

This Techno was—kinder. Gentle. Awkward. Not that different from the Techno he knew but—it was obvious with how the man was treating him, Techno was good friends with his Dream. Close friends, even. Something Dream was terrified of becoming with the Blood God because who knew what would happen if the SMP knew the tyrant was good friends with the one person everyone feared? 

If none of the events happened, would Dream also be friends with the Techno in his world?

...Fuck, he was jealous. A world where everything was roleplay? An act? Outside of their roleplay—they were all friends who laughed for shits and giggles? That’s-

Dream wheezed, this time the sound was wet, and it didn’t take long for him to know he was crying. Ugly tears streamed down his face as his laughter eventually turned into pathetic sobs, bowing his head down so that Technoblade didn’t see his pitiful face messy with tears. He would’ve been appalled at crying in front of someone, even a different version of Technoblade, someone he admired and respected—but at this point, Dream didn’t care.

He wasn’t in prison anymore. He should be happy he wasn’t. He’s far away from Sam, from Quackity. From the pain, the torture, the starvation, the feeling of the small walls practically getting smaller and smaller until he suffocated from hyperventilating. He didn’t have to constantly worry about people hating him. His former best friends, his family—cut their ties with him entirely until he was just the bad guy in their story, in their life. So why wasn’t he happy? 

Why wasn’t he happy he was free from everything, knowing he was in a different world where his enemies were technically his friends?

Dream fell forward, body slack and completely numb until his head bumped against Technoblade’s chest. 

“It’s not fair.”

He wasn’t happy about his freedom knowing that he’s in a world where the SMP were his friends. It’s not. Fucking. Fair.

Dream sobbed, devastated and vulnerable as his walls finally crumbled within his reach. Dream continued to cry, trying to be as quiet as possible knowing he still wasn’t alone, but that plan was thrown out of the window the moment Technoblade lurched forward and dragged him to a hug, letting him bury his face on his shoulders. He felt hands rubbing his back gently, the other cradling his head with care.

“It’s okay, Dream,” Technoblade hushed softly, holding him tightly yet tenderly as if he was someone made out of glass, someone who needed to be cherished at all costs. That thought alone had Dream tearing up more, another ugly sob escaping him as he clenched his eyes. “You can let it all out. None of us will judge you for the decisions you have made in your world. Even if it’s all roleplay to us and our Dream had explained his plans beforehand—we understand. Just know that, okay? We will never understand the pain you felt, you experienced, but we can understand the lengths you went through. You don’t have to wear a mask anymore, Dream. No one hates you here.” He reassured with earnest sincerity, the softest he had ever heard from Technoblade since the tournament, since the duel, since the end of L’manberg. Different world or not. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise.”

And Dream fucking broke.

Chapter Text

The walk to Snowchester wasn’t that long nor did anything too exciting happen. Unless one counted Dream positively screeching at the sight of a creeper and a zombie—both looking absolutely horrifying and monstrous, how fucking exciting (fuck him, he’s not going to survive-). Dream had brushed off the amused snicker that Tubbo tried to hide under his breath or the annoyed and confused look Tommy sent him. What he couldn’t brush off was Ranboo loud snort as he dragged him away before the monsters could eat him alive. At least they were nice enough to kill off those...monsters. Beyond that, they arrived at Snowchester—within Tubbo and Ranboo’s shared little home for the moment (while their absolute monster of a mansion was still being built) without any major injuries and incidents. 

The moment they were inside the warmth of the house (and by fuck was Snowchester cold, especially since he was just wearing a hoodie and joggers and yes they were his pajamas, shut up), Dream had collapsed on one of the couches in the house. As he let himself warm up, his face smushed into the soft cushions. He wondered what kind of logic and physics the world contained. He knew that this world was based off of the game (reminded by the appearance of the monstrous creeper and zombie that he belatedly expected to see as it’s cartoonish caricatures in-game but they weren’t, they were straight out of a fucking horror game, god help him-) that they all played around in. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the other end of the sofa dipped and he looked up to the diamond (and holy shit was it shiny as fuck-) blade that belonged to one Tommy Innit. Dream yelped and scrambled to sit up properly, looking between the blade and the three teens that had dragged him to the house. He licked his lips and smiled at them nervously, giving a small wave. 

“H-Hey…”

“You know, now that he’s under some proper light…” Tubbo muttered, stalking closer and taking his face in his hands. Dream tried not to flinch at the boy’s cold hands and kept still to let the younger inspect him closely with glinting eyes. “He doesn’t have any of his scars.”

“Nope, he’s looking very...baby faced.” Ranboo nodded along, tapping a finger against his chin in thought. “Didn’t he have, like, a long jagged scar across his nose? Something about a duel with Technoblade?”

“Oh yeah, and he had a scar like, over his eye or something.” Tommy squinted, looking back at him as he (thankfully) dropped his sword. “I think—I think he was fucking blind on that eye or something, dunno how he got it since he didn’t have it when we confronted him in the vault.”

“His eyes too.” Tubbo realized as his own eye widened as he dropped Dream’s face from his hands, something akin to wonder on his features. “His eyes are a bright green. Tommy—Tommy what were Dream’s eyes when you last visited him?”

“Uh—something dark green? Kinda like those swamp colors, y’know.” Tommy shrugged helplessly, waving his hands around as he tried to explain. “I don’t know! It’s pretty dark in the fucking prison and the lava kinda changes the lighting!”

“Yeah, but it’s murky green. Is that what you’re saying?” Ranboo stepped up, eyeing Dream’s eye color as well. The said man was beginning to feel like a test subject right now, it was a little uncomfortable—especially when realizing he personally hadn’t shown his face to anyone except his friends (did these three count? They were just...counterparts of the actual teens he knew-). “He has a darker green eye color and even then- one of his eyes is blind?” 

And- oh, they’re back to talking about him like he wasn’t there, facing away from him. Dream sighed, running a hand over his soft and clean face. They were completely right, his face was as smooth as a baby’s. His acne hadn’t acted up in the last few weeks so he didn’t even have scars from that. He looked up at the familiar faces under proper light and almost gasped out loud, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he inspected each of their faces while they argued with one another.

Ranboo had the iconic tear streaked scars that ran from his eyes down to his chin (something the teen kept bragging about having in his fanarts when he fully considered them canon). Other than that, he also noticed a few of the smaller scars that littered his cheeks and face—most likely from previous fights that he had or from explosions that happened when he was nearby. He didn’t have as much as scars, not compared to Tommy or Tubbo, since he was fairly new. Despite being new, he still had a fair amount of scars on his face and arms that made Dream instinctively run his fingers over his smooth and unblemished skin (skin care products were lifesavers-).

Tommy, on the other hand, had a lot more scars than Ranboo. He could pick at the many tiny cuts that criss crossed across his face and smooth skin. He could even see and note the many bruises that had yet to heal. Belatedly, he cringed when he noticed his busted lip and the deep bruise that surrounded Tommy’s right eye. It no doubt came from the stupid plot point where his character beat him to death (and they both were so proud of that scene as well, loving how well it came off during the stream and how genuine they sounded—except now, it was real at least for these people it was and that was no cause for celebration at all-).

Tubbo had a few scars as well but the most prominent one was the dried and burnt skin that covered almost half of his face. Dream actually cringed this time as he observed the way the skin pulled at some areas and how other areas looked so red. He knew where those scars came from and if Technoblade ever heard about it being real here, he’d have a whole fit (he knew how close the two had gotten after a few interactions and Technoblade would have murdered himself if he knew he’d scar Tubbo, of all people).

The ‘Red Festival’, as the fans had dubbed it, was a pretty stressful and mostly improvised scene that made a lot of the participants really tired after doing it—though, still very satisfying to see play out so well. Yet it… it hurt to know it was real here and it actually affected the people that lived here. Now that he had time to think about it, Dream realized that so many of their planned events had happened here. From the War of L’manberg, the Control Room (and god imagine having that happen in real life-), the Pogtopia War, the blowing up of L’manberg-

Doomsday. 

Dream let out a shaky breath as his eyes widened, his hands clutching at the soft cushion of the couch tightly. Exile, Doomsday, The Final Disc Confrontation, Tommy’s Death and Revival—everything he had made his character do to these teens and it was real. It made him think back to his plans, his ideas for his character’s arc and story and how he would grow to be more questionable and mysterious the more crimes he committed. Crimes that affected real people, now that he thought about it. It made him rethink his decisions, of his plans and his ideas. 

Now that he knew they were real—doing it just for the sake of the drama and fan’s approval felt empty and useless. It sounded so stupid and selfish.

Fuck, Dream felt like he was going to throw up knowing he caused this-

He knew he wasn’t the only one who planned all this. He knew he wasn’t the only main writer. He knew that it all started with Wilbur but there was no use putting the blame on different people. He had done his part—they all did their part and this was the outcome. This was what happened when they thought it’d be more fun to add more drama and depth to the story. This was the outcome of their actions—a bunch of traumatized teenagers, a lonely villain, and many more hurt people who were wandering around the world as they carried their scars like trophies. Just thinking about it made him shiver, his chest tightening as he realized just how bad everything in this world was. How divided everyone was and how lonely they must feel. How everyone carried grudges and scars and hurts and they just kept adding more and more.

Scars heal with time but when had they ever gotten the time?

If this was really a dream, this was too real for him to simply brush it off—and it was already real the moment he felt the cool steel of a sword pointed at his neck.

Dream swallowed thickly as he blinked back to reality, eyes focusing towards the trio of teens who were still talking about his scars and his face and—his throat clogged up when another realization dawned on him. His counterpart was blind through one eye. His counterpart suffered through torture and—oh fuck, he made that happen. He allowed it to happen. He and Quackity had-

Dream choked on air when Tommy suddenly turned to him with determined and fiery eyes, “So?”

“What?” the man spluttered, blinking as he tried not to think about what he had forced his counterpart to go through. “I-I’m sorry but- what?”

Tommy let out a sigh, seemingly done with him in general, shaking his head as he glared at Dream, “Your proof? Where is it?”

“Oh.” Dream blinked and looked down. “Oh.”

He fumbled with his pocket, grabbing his phone. He almost dropped it in his haste to turn it on, internally begging that it would work. When it lit up, his entire body relaxed and he stared at his lockscreen (a simple background of the picture he took with everyone meeting up in the mansion-). He swiped upwards and typed in his passcode as he felt the three’s stares dig into his skin. He licked his lips as he scrolled through his apps, looking for his gallery. When he found it, he tapped on it.

“Well?” Tommy snarled, causing Dream to jump from his seat and fumble with his phone. 

He looked up at them and nervously gestured at the space beside him, “Uh, you’ll have to sit with me to see and-”

He yelped when Tubbo grinned and squished into his right side, resting his chin on his shoulder. Tommy scoffed and took his other side, keeping a safe distance from him. Ranboo on the other hand shrugged and moved behind the couch and leaned over the back. Dream chuckled nervously as he picked one of the videos that had Tommy in it. He let it play, putting the phone at a distance from him so the three teens could see what was happening in the video. 

The video he picked wasn’t that old, considering they had just gotten together in the mansion. Actually, it happened a bit after they moved in together because everyone, the teens especially, were eager to start playing around together.

The video started off shaky and completely black as the cameraman (sounding almost like Sapnap but the others couldn’t be sure) laughed and spoke about something that couldn’t be heard. Then, suddenly the camera panned upwards and it brightened. Within the frame of the camera were three people. Dream was there, wearing a half mask that covered his mouth but by the crinkle of his eyes, he was smiling—widely too. Just across from him was what looked like Wilbur (he had the beanie and the hair but he was wearing a sweater and jeans. The teens, excluding Ranboo, didn’t know when they last saw him wearing those-) and right next to him was Tommy. They both had wide grins on their faces and Wilbur had something small in his hand. 

“Go on, Dream! Say it! Say the fucking line!” Tommy taunted, laughing at the end. His voice carried more amusement than anger and resentment. He sounded softer and lighter—as if he didn’t hold the world on his shoulders. 

It made Tommy bristle a bit, reminding him of the long gone days where he used to smile just as brightly. Dream could see Tubbo smile fondly as he watched Tommy in the video. From behind him, Ranboo made a noise of disbelief and shock at the sight of the bright blonde. Dream smiled sadly as he continued to play the video, remembering all the fun they had experienced. It made him feel even sadder for the people that roamed this world—he knew that the last time they all had genuine fun was back before the Revolution even began. By then, a lot of other people appeared and joined and they hadn’t had a break ever since.

“Fine, fine- wait, are you recording this? On my phone?” Dream wheezed, turning to stare at the camera and whoever was behind it. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll thank me later.” Sapnap’s voice piped back, sounding clearer and familiar. 

“Whatever.” Dream scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stared at the two. “I want white flags, white flags outside your base at dawn or you’re dead!”

Dream tried to ignore how Tommy and Tubbo flinched. He tried to ignore how he had used what they had dubbed as their ‘lore voice’ when he said the line. He tried to ignore how Ranboo let out a shaky breath of surprise and fear at the way he spoke. He tried to ignore how this entire thing was just reminding the teens of wounds that had long since healed and closed. He tried to ignore how he was reopening wounds but—he knew this was the perfect video. It showed Tommy and Wilbur acting like brothers, from what he remembered.

“Well, fuck you!” Tommy cackled, flipping Dream off as he went and threw something into a barrel. 

Wilbur laughed loudly and-

-and Tommy flinched, hard. His hands had instinctively wrapped around his torso and Dream stiffened. He internally berated himself for choosing this video—even if it showed a clearly alive Wilbur and Tommy being brothers. He had forgotten Wilbur had used his ‘insane’ laugh in the video. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he glanced at Tommy in concern. The kid’s body posture screamed to run but he kept his eyes glued on the screen. Dream didn’t know if that was good or not but he hoped the teen wouldn’t get even more traumatized. Maybe he’d just grab the famous benchtrio baking disaster video next, to soothe the teen’s hurts.

-he flicked open the lighter and burned whatever was thrown into the barrel. The thing burst into flames, lighting the three faces with an orange light. Dream had pulled down his face mask and grinned at the duo as they let out happy whoops and cheers. 

“SUCK IT, GREEN BOIIIII!” Wilbur cackled madly, ruffling Tommy’s hair—before pulling him away from the barrel when it flared brighter and hotter. He made a face, “Jesus, get away from the fire.”

“Nah, bitch!” Tommy grinned, pushing Wilbur lightly as he got closer to the fire. 

“You’re going—you’re going to give me a heart attack, Tommy.” Wilbur laughed, shaking his head yet did nothing to move away from the boy’s persistence.

“You’re like a brother to me, Wilbur. Of course I’ll give you a heart attack!” Tommy grinned, crossing past the barrel to tackle Dream into a hug. Dream chuckled and hugged the teen tightly, wheezing when Tommy started comparing their height out of nowhere and squeezed him into a hug again.

“Stop it, I’m going to cry.” Wilbur almost whined as he shook his head, sniffing. He straightened, rolling his eyes fondly when Tommy stuck his tongue out in response to his half-dramatics.

“Then cry, coward!” Sapnap shouted from behind the camera before Wilbur turned and sprinted towards him. Sapnap laughed as the camera was jostled, the younger man running as well. Before the video cut out, Dream’s voice was slowly fading away as he shouted towards his best friend.

“Don’t you dare drop my phone, Sapnap!”

When the video ended, Dream fiddled with his phone. He cleared his throat as he looked through more videos. “I-I have one more, if you want?” he asked hesitantly. God, this was not good for his heart, even though he was used to so much pressure.

“Yeah, sure.” Ranboo answered for the two after a few seconds as they were seemingly shaken. “Is it- would it be like the first one?”

“No, no.” Dream shook his head before letting out a small sound when he found it, “It’s about you three, actually.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Tommy grumbled, snapping out of whatever was bothering him at the moment.

Dream glanced at Tubbo, who was silent the entire time, but continued on when the teen nodded at him. He pressed play on the video and leaned back, watching as the three teens messed around in their shared kitchen. He remembered being asked by Ranboo and Tommy to film it with his phone—not everything, obviously, since they had it covered for their video. No, they had asked him to take a video of what he thought would be a blooper or something like that for safekeeping. Something their friends could save in their phones to look back at their bullshit. 

The video started with familiar wheezing, the camera shaking before it was righted and showed the view of a really nice and fancy kitchen. The counter was filled with a bunch of bowls and utensils and some flour and ingredients. To summarize- it was a mess. The camera focused and beyond the incredibly concerning wheezing that came from Dream, who was definitely the cameraman this time that it was a surprise the camera wasn’t shaken too much, and there was screaming and arguing in the background before it was the main focus.

Just right behind the counter was Tommy, his sleeves rolled up with his arms deep into the flour bag. He was screaming at Ranboo who had a bowl in his arm and was holding a spatula that was dripping with some yellow liquid. His mask was skewed with his dirtied glasses pushed up on his head. Since the teen had yet to face reveal, this clip was definitely going to be cut off from the posted product but it was too good to just not record. Ranboo was laughing so freely to the point his eyes crinkled happily-

-and Dream could feel the shock from the three. He knew it wasn’t because of the supposed masked teen’s sudden face reveal. Instead, they were probably shocked at how different Ranboo looked. How human he was. With his brown hair and slightly pale skin. The only thing that was similar between the two was the colored mask and gloves that matched Ranboo’s skin coloring. He knew the enderman hybrid (at least that was what the lore gave, he didn’t know what the other half was) was a bit speechless at how...different he looked. Despite it all, they remained silent, intent on listening to what the video had to give.

-while Tubbo whipped around suddenly with a whole pan filled with batter. He grinned sheepishly at the two. 

“I think we have a problem, bossman-”

“I’ll show you a problem!” Tommy screeched, hands still inside the bag of flour. “This motherfucker double dipped with the fucking icing! Who the fuck does that?!”

“I did—I did not, Tommy!” Ranboo got out in between his laughter, shoulders shaking with his mirth. “You were just being stupid.”

“I was not.” Tommy retorted back, turning to Tubbo as he continued his rant, “This, this, he just- he didn’t even tell me I was slamming my hands into the flour instead of the bowl!”

“You should’ve looked where you were putting your hands at then!” Ranboo retorted, setting the bowl and spatula down. He adjusted the mask back on his face and took off his glasses, rubbing them on his apron before putting them back on. 

“Awe, man, does this mean that scene was just gone?” Tubbo pouted, setting down the tray. He wiped his hands against his apron before patting Ranboo on his back, “Well then, let’s double dip.”

“Fuck you two! I mixed eggs into the fucking flour bag!” Tommy screeched. 

Tubbo snickered, coming over with a glass of water, “Why don’t we add some water to fix that, huh?”

“What- get the fuck away from me, Tubbo!” Tommy screamed, dragging the bag of flour away and spilling a few on the floor.

Dream cackled from behind the camera, sounding as if he was having the time of his life watching the three create mass destruction to the poor kitchen. “Better clean this all up before Philza Minecraft gets your asses!” he called out behind the camera, voice more clearer with how close he was.

“I fear no one!” Tommy announced, throwing his hands into the air and spilling some flour over himself in the process. He didn’t seem fazed whatsoever as the other teens bawled over with Dream dying. “Not even Philza Fucking Minecraft!”

“Niki would be disappointed if you leave the kitchen dirty.”

There was a pause, before-

-oh, Dream blinked when he heard Tubbo sniffle. He turned to the brunette and noticed how his eyes were a bit watery. When Tubbo noticed him staring he shook his head and leaned his chin against his shoulder again. Dream licked his lips and turned back, but not before giving the teen a concerned glance. He was a bit aware of how Niki’s character wanted to start a bakery but he was unsure of how close her character actually was with everyone else.

-the kitchen burst into a noise of complaints and accusations.

“It was Tommy-”

“Tubbo told us that-”

“It was not my fault at all!”

The video ended with Dream’s wheezing as the three teens continued to point fingers at each other in the background. 

Dream coughed, switching his phone off. He thought that the two videos were proof enough. It had each one of them present and if they used logic—they would have never remembered being present to create such a video. Not just that but by the stunned silence between the three, Dream could tell that everything was just processing. 

Tommy was staring at his phone, his face twisted into something in between a grimace and a scowl. Dream didn’t know what the teen had felt during the videos, his emotions seemingly shut down after seeing the first video. On the other hand, Tubbo was eerily quiet at his other side. His face was unreadable as he gripped at the cushion tightly, his long bangs shadowing his eyes for a moment. Ranboo on the other hand was quiet, a bit taken aback at the sight he saw from the videos. Everything was a whirlwind of emotions for the teens and Dream stayed quiet to let them sit through it without any outside interference. They deserved this at the very least. 

Tommy gripped at his pants leg, glaring hatefully at the floor. He hated how affected he was by the videos. He had sworn he had moved on from Wilbur. He had finally seen the motherfucker as the villain he was alongside Dream. He had seen how crazy and stupid and irrational the man was. How he had changed after the elections—how he wasn’t the same big brother Wilbur he was before the whole drug van started to hit off. He hated how he finally let go of his idolization and accepted that his big brother was gone—replaced by a monster who was corrupted by power and only cared about his passion and obsessions. 

He hated how—when he saw Wilbur in the video, he yearned.

He yearned for the big brother he had lost to the war. He yearned for the big brother that he had lost to insanity. He yearned for the good old Wilbur who would guide him through everything and protected him and made him laugh so loud. He yearned despite knowing the man was insane and gone. He yearned even when he knew he couldn’t have what he (the Tommy in the video was so lucky to be so happy—to have no worries and no war-) had. He yearned for the man that was as bright as the sun before he disappeared from the world, taking all it’s warmth and light with him, when a diamond sword forced him to set. He yearned for his warmth even if he was met with the biting cold. He yearned for his light when all he was met with was darkness.

Tommy yearned for Wilbur—the man who used to make him smile and protect him (never the man that led a country or blew it up).

Tubbo, on the other hand, felt hollow and empty. He had been feeling apathetic and lacking—ever since Dream was shoved into the prison. He had felt so empty and lacking and hollow and- it was like a large hole was taken from him and he didn’t know how to fill it up. He had built Snowchester, thinking that maybe—maybe it was because he lost L’manberg, which was a big part of him. He had pulled Ranboo into his schemes and dragged him everywhere, thinking that maybe since Tommy was busy with the hotel and the prison, he just missed his friend. He had built nukes and tested them out, thinking that maybe it was his inner child soldier that was itching to fight (he wanted peace as much as the next person but he had grown up in so much war that it was hard-).

He hated how—when he saw his counterpart, he hoped. 

He hoped for the closeness of his friends and their warmth. He hoped for that same chiding tone that Dream held in the video. He hoped for the warmth touch of the man that everyone saw as a villain. He hoped for the man that would help him with his beehives and give him supplies and flowers. He hoped for the man that rebuilt his home when Tommy had burnt it down. He hoped for the man that would put down a boat and jokingly paddle them everywhere—land or water. He hoped for the man that fell like Icarus. He hoped for the big brother that disappeared when war swept through the lands. He hoped for the big brother that fell deeper and deeper into the role of the villain. He hoped for the big brother that shouted to the world how he didn’t fucking care. He hoped for the man that never was—not since everyone branded him a tyrant and a monster and a villain and everything in between. 

Tubbo hoped for Dream—the big brother that filled the hole in his heart (not the villain that threatened and killed and destroyed-). 

Ranboo was quiet. He was processing everything and he didn’t know what to think. He was shown a world where everyone was friends. Where, despite the cutting words and sharp tone of Tommy’s voice, they were friends. They weren’t just uneasy allies because of a shared connection. They were friends and he wasn’t this paranoid and secretive person, but he was more genuine and open and kinder and—he was everything he couldn’t ever hope to be. He didn’t seem to be the type to make mistakes and ruin everything because of a lack of knowledge of anything and everything. He wasn’t the newcomer who ruined things and forgot and forgot and forgot and—it didn’t seem like he was affected by any memory problems (if a world was capable of having a Dream that wasn’t evil or a Wilbur that wasn’t a psychopath, then they’d be kind enough to have a Ranboo that didn’t forget-).

He hated how—when he saw everything and digested and processed it, he wished.

He wished for a better world, where wars and conflict didn’t separate people. He wished for a world so alike the one he saw. He wished for a big family that weren’t tied to sides and stuck together. He wished for everyone to set everything aside and just see each other as humans and people that were breakable and mortal and so—so fragile. He wished for a world where he could see everyone speak to each other with familiarity and kindness. He wished for a world that wasn’t filled with crossed swords and poisonous words. He wished for people to see each other and be kind and sweet and as family. He wished for a world where people didn’t have to betray each other for power or selfish needs. He wished, so dearly, for a world where he didn’t have to fight himself to survive. He wished for a world where he didn’t have to fear the dark and the voices in his head. He wished for a world where he didn’t have to fear betraying anyone because of his memory loss. 

Ranboo hoped for a family—one that cared and stuck together through thick and thin (not one that was filled with blood and swords and war and loss and every single bad thing-).

Three teens who were in a war-torn world, who were mere children set out to fight and lose and grieve. Three teens who were able to see such a perfect world that wasn’t bathed in blood, that didn’t suffer from wounds and scars and nightmares that haunt them even in the day. Three teens who saw a place with their own selves, who weren’t scarred and broken and grieving and lashing out painfully in the worst ways possible. Three teens who saw themselves who smiled without hidden intentions, who laughed without nervousness and pain, who joked without walking on eggshells. 

Three teens who saw the world and yearned—hoped—wished. 

Three teens who tasted freedom and peace and happiness—even if it was a sliver of it, they wanted more. 

Three teens who turned to look at the man (the monster, the villain, the lost cause-) and saw that world. The world that was so close yet so..untouchable. The world that held the answers to everything but didn’t bring a solution for them. The world that was their Eden but none of them could enter for they were condemned to this hell.

Three teens who looked at the man with no scars, no tears, no fears, no pain, no loss, no grief-

Three teens who broke ever so slowly inside but easily wrapped it up with worn and torn bandages-

Three teens who were clinging on the last thread of yearning, of hope, of wishful thinking. 

Three teens who wanted to reach out and grasp at the shining light—at the angel that sat in their midst and never let go.

Three teens who-

Three teens who resigned themselves to the hell they’ve seen and curled back into their protective walls. 

Three teens who closed themselves off and wore steel faces and determined eyes and set mouths.

Three teens who only now realize that they couldn’t have everything—but if they had this, then they’re going to protect it forever and always and-

Dream swallowed and looked at the three, how their emotions flickered through their faces and how it shut down almost as quickly. He shifted in his spot when Tubbo suddenly stood up and moved away from him, sporting a strained smile. Dream leaned back and tucked his phone into his hoodie pocket when Ranboo appeared beside Tubbo and stared him down. He glanced nervously at Tommy who stayed still and quiet. He didn’t know what to say or do and his throat was slowly drying up and he was internally panicking. 

Did he accidentally trigger them? Did they not believe him? Did he mess up and ruin everything and was he going to die now? Were the videos not enough? Were they—Were they too much? Was it not okay and-

-and he saw how Tubbo’s smile melted into a more reassuring one, as if sensing his panic. He saw how Ranboo slowly relaxed and how shoulders slumped forward instead of hitching high—so high up that it almost hit his ears. He saw how Tommy leaned back and finally let go of his already ripped jeans, grip loosening and slacking. Only then did Dream relax and he could breathe again. He waited for them to say something—anything, really. 

A beat of complete and utter silence and resignation and realizations and-

“So…” Dream looked between the three and tried for a smile that he hoped did not come off as nervous.

“What now?”

After the hug and that...crying session (he didn’t know what came over him to lose himself in that moment—fuck), they took a moment to get their bearings together. Well, it was mostly Dream trying to compose himself while Technoblade was doing his best to look unaffected. But because this was a more...human Techno, he wasn’t as good as his...counterpart, whose face was literally more of a mask than Dream ever had on himself. He was worried and it showed. 

Dream wasn’t going to admit how that thought made him...a little happy. It’s been a while since someone was worried for him instead of being worried whenever his name was being mentioned.

But no way in hell was he going to admit that.

After a day and few hours, here he was on the bed in the morning, like always, eyes stuck to the screen of a laptop Technoblade had given him yesterday after a couple more questions and answers about how this world worked, and how completely different everyone here in the mansion was compared to his own world in the Dream SMP. Of course, he didn’t know what the fuck a laptop was, but he managed to learn how to use it after Technoblade taught him the basics. After a whole day of binging videos, he could say he got the hang of it.

Right, technology was...quite advanced here with those communicator-like gadgets, but you could touch the screen and call and even more intricate things that were added to such a small device. It’s not even functioning because of redstone since the ore itself didn’t even exist in this world.

Notch, what the hell was this world? First there were no such things as canon lives, revival, respawns, server jumping—and now even basic things like potions and swords and redstone inventions were practically unheard of?

But that wasn’t why Dream was clenching on the bed sheets so hard he could rip through it right now.

He was watching a few videos of his other self, of his counterpart, and it took a while for Dream to accept that Technoblade really wasn’t kidding when he said they roleplayed in a fucking video game made out of blocks and rarely anything curved with circles. Well, it took a few hours last night to really accept his new reality.

As much as he wanted to scoff in utter disbelief as he watched himself through the video doing...what was supposed to look like amazing stunts and parkour in the game (those weren’t really hard to do, but he had to remind himself that people here were so...fragile, and like hell would Dream be good at the game if he gave it a go-), he was more focused of the interactions with his counterpart and the Dream Team. An odd fixation he had since Technoblade explained how their internet worked. 

Dream remembered suggesting a manhunt game, too, back in his world—but that was easily forgotten when shit hit the fan in his server and all hell broke loose.

He couldn’t stop himself from feeling jealous.

Dream clenched the fabric in his hands, eyes staring at the screen yet saw nothing except listening to the voices coming from the video once again. It wasn’t the first time he repeated the same videos and clips anymore. He could hear himself just bickering and screaming at George, Sapnap, Bad, and even Ant (god, Bad and Ant-). It’s almost surreal to listen to his own voice saying things he never remembered saying. The multiple times the urge to curse, the panic, and even the anxiety Dream himself could feel when seeing his counterpart faced with something that was supposed to be impossible to escape (he also got used to the game after literally watching every single video from his counterpart’s...uh, channel?).

Yet all he could focus on was the interactions.

They sounded so...happy. And after searching up different compilations and clips for the past day and four hours since waking up, fuck—they were more than happy. They had the friendship Dream had longed for but failed to keep.

Video after video, whether he had seen them already or not, Dream could feel his heart breaking little by little with every interaction. How protective his counterpart sounded when someone tried to debunk his videos and inadvertently insulted the Dream Team’s skills (even he could feel himself bristling when George and Sapnap were called weak-), how the fondness and adoration was clear as day in his voice whenever he expressed how much he cared and loved his friends—Dream was almost blushing in embarrassment whenever he watched such sincere clips of his counterpart, being all...wholesome. Honest. So genuine.

Something Dream couldn’t be and he couldn’t remember when that stopped.

It felt like a crime watching something so...pure. Something Dream wished to have, for a very long time, before he ruined it all with his own hands in the midst of his panic and obsession to keep things the same, to bring back the same peacefulness the server once was before Wilbur brought up his damn drug van.

Dream wondered when he lost himself to the role everyone saw him as, instead of the same man who laughed until he wheezed because he found the littlest shit funny.

He scoffed to himself, leaning back against the headboard and paused the video he was watching (another manhunt against four, but a grand finale? Ender, his counterpart sure didn’t know what a finale was, because he’d been binging all the manhunts so far and it was practically never ending-). He forgot what it’s like to laugh anymore. He forgot what it’s like to just—smile, be happy over something stupid, to mess around with friends. That’s what his server was supposed to be, after all-

A safe, peaceful haven where friends could be happy and do stupid shit.

Dream wanted to seethe, to feel livid with jealousy how this world was just so—happy. So perfect compared to whatever the fuck happened to his own world, to what happened to his friends—everything. He had yet to watch the Dream SMP roleplay, still dumbfounded to know they roleplayed in a fucking video game instead of, like...an act, something theatrical, maybe. Actors existed in this world, right? He assumed that was their roleplay of the Dream SMP.

Not—not a game filled with pixels and all that shit. 

But he couldn’t feel jealous because he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t...his. 

It’s almost cruel, really. Being suddenly dumped in a perfect version of his world (well, perhaps not the whole world itself because...earth, as they call it here instead of overworld, sure was shit. He wasn’t going to an in depth analysis of how stupid humanity was-), as if it was karma biting his ass. And quite literally waking up in a mansion his counterpart had apparently rented (Ender, a mansion this big was around a stack of emeralds-) to hang out with the other SMP members. Characters—whatever the hell you call them. Friends, maybe.

No, they were friends. Good friends. Almost family.

Or maybe they were?

He shouldn’t compare because that was both hurtful to the people here and to the people back in his world, to be compared when both parties were completely different in their own way.

But Dream couldn’t...help it.

He couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if he didn’t take up the mantle of a villain, the tyrant of the Dream SMP, his own server. If he hadn’t spiralled down to his twisted morals, hadn’t pushed everyone away and just—asked for help. Maybe talk. Fucking talk, why couldn’t he just, reach out and be honest instead of being distant and cold until even his closest friends (George, Sapnap, Punz, and Sam-) thought he was going insane with his actions.

All they saw was a stranger, instead of their friend who was losing his sense of self, not bothering to force their way in his walls to grab him still and shake him to snap the fuck out of it-

Dream flinched, nearly shutting the laptop closed when the sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, trying not to visibly sigh in relief when he was just met with Technoblade (not his real name apparently, but the brunette didn’t mind being called as such since everyone else still called each other by their...usernames, or something. Which was completely fine with Dream, because Technoblade was the only familiar and comforting thing he had right now in a strange place-).

Technoblade blinked, holding two cups with straws in his hands, “Sorry if I didn’t knock, but I got Philza to order some coffee and I’m not sure if you have coffee in your world, with limited recipes and all.” He paused, backtracking, “Actually, I just ordered you some chocolate milkshake since I’m not sure you even like coffee. Don’t worry, it tastes good. Sweet as fuck, but hopefully good enough not to cause you diabetes. Not sure if you’re even allowed to consume sweet things.”

Dream tilted his head, why would Technoblade be uncertain if he liked coffee? Dream wouldn’t know if he hadn’t trie—oh. “Does your Dream hate coffee?” he said with a small chuckle. Although he was initially jealous—he couldn’t help but feel oddly...fond of his counterpart. He could see why he got famous and how his server blew up. He was so...charismatic and likeable, it was almost pitiful to compare himself to that perfect Dream. 

Sure, his counterpart was definitely just as weak as every other human in this world. The only thing he was probably good at was the video game that jump-started his fame—but he was definitely a version Dream would’ve loved to be. He was someone people loved, looked up to, admired. He was someone his friends went to for comfort, for reassurance, for guidance—something Dream failed to do.

And, oh—of course he watched the hate. Looked, saw, and read the hate thrown at his counterpart. Dream was dumbfounded at first, shocked at how—cruel people could be. How cruel random strangers were towards just one person. It was almost unfair, how there were definitely more than a hundred strangers who detested his counterpart’s existence for just breathing—but still. It shocked him.

Until it just pissed him off. 

Because so what if the man snapped at a couple of people for sending him death threats he didn’t deserve (fucking death threats! What was this world?! Death threats to someone they didn’t even know personally?!), for being careless and reckless and having his own fun? It’s not like he was—perfect or something. Dream could see how he was trying to choose between appealing to his fans, or indulge and humor himself with the craziest shit with his friends despite the fame.

Was he being biased considering it was literally just an alternate version of himself?

Yes.

So what? He found himself admiring his other self for somehow staying sane and stable after every shit that got thrown at him every single day without rest on the internet. It was fucking ridiculous and completely pointless, the amount of hate he was getting. Undeserved and rather misplaced at times, too. It’s why he felt...fond, for some reason. If Dream hadn’t known anything, if he wasn’t from a different world entirely, he would’ve been just as awed as any other viewer with his counterpart. He was just…real, trying his best and amending any mistakes he had made.

Something he couldn’t do.

Technoblade scoffed, bringing him back to reality, “Dream isn’t the... biggest fan of coffee. Or energy drinks. He’s really missin’ out, though—everyone here drinks coffee like a lifeline while he just says no and drinks, what, fuckin’ milk.”

“...Interesting, I guess.” Was all Dream could really say in response when realizing he wasn’t exactly sure what to say in the first place. He and his counterpart were technically the same person—but that didn’t mean they were mirrored to perfection without delay. Especially the different world, rules, and environment they grew up and were raised in.

The brunette snorted at his words, sitting beside him and handing him his drink (it’s only been two, almost three days since he got here, the first day mostly being him unconscious, but Technoblade had been giving him some decent meal he was able to stomach and Notch was it all delicious-). “How’s your adventure with explorin’ how crappy the internet is?”

“Honestly?” Dream sighed, shifting until he was sitting beside the other man, not touching, and made sure the laptop wasn’t going to fall off his lap as he cupped the surprisingly cold drink. “I’m very much convinced. And also…impressed? With my other self,”

“Oh?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, blowing some steam off his coffee, “You mean you saw all the shit he went through just by playin’ a video game made out of blocks?”

Dream made a face, conflicted whether to laugh or sigh again. “It sounds stupid when you put it that way, actually.” People were apparently mad at a man who’s good at minecraft. A video game. Go figure.

“Touché.” He smirked, taking a sip, prompting Dream to do the same and stared down in surprise once he tasted it. A cold chocolate drink huh? “Gotta give him credit- he handles the fame way better than I do, and I’ve been around for quite a long time. Kind of a veteran, if you know what I mean.” He nudged the blonde slightly with an elbow, his voice still monotone yet gaining a hint of gloating.

That’s another thing that changed overnight. In a way. Dream was very comfortable around his only ally’s counterpart. Not because it was Technoblade but human, but because… actually, he wasn’t sure why that was. After basically bawling like a baby (Dream cringed at the reminder of his breakdown), he felt like he could trust him. Not completely safe or—he felt close to the man, not like that.

But because...Technoblade really was the only person he could rely on right now. It’s sad when knowing he would’ve felt the same way back in his own world, but it’s the truth and no doubt the brunette was aware of it, too.

After all, Technoblade did tell him he and the others knew everything that happened with him, from his relationships, his feelings, to who was really able to help him when everyone else turned away at the very sight of him.

It hurt. It really did. But Dream didn’t have a choice, and honestly—he wasn’t ready to face the other versions of his friends and the people he invited to his world, either. Maybe one day, he could let them in one by one because who knew how long Dream was going to be stuck here and trapping himself in his other self’s room wasn’t healthy knowing he had already been stuck in a certain cell for months. Just maybe not...everyone at once. 

(Because it would bring him back to the day he lost, trapped, cornered like a wild animal they had to bring down, surrounded by people he had sworn to protect within his land with their swords and axes pointed at him as he stripped off the gear and his mask—the only things that had kept him safe despite losing people one by one every single day-)

Dream snorted, “From what I’ve seen, you’re handling it just as fine.” He said softly, sipping the straw gently to savor the sweetness coating his tongue (when was the last time he ate something sweet?). He tried not to down the drink immediately, unsure if that could potentially worsen his recovery process, especially when knowing he wasn’t able to respawn. 

“I wouldn’t say that, but thanks, Dream.” Technoblade said with a grateful smile before his eyes glanced down at the laptop. “So…” his eyes flickered back up to meet green and milky white, “Anythin’ else you’ve learned for today? I’d try to help but I wouldn’t know  what I can help with other than continuously sayin’ that this isn’t your world, welcome to hell, enjoy your stay.” He deadpanned, which earned him a muffled chuckle from the dirty blonde.

“I haven’t seen videos of your...roleplaying yet.” Dream admitted slowly, staring at the white cream inside the cup. He didn’t refuse to watch because it would hurt knowing that all the struggles he went through was merely an act in this world—but because...well, he wasn’t really sure what’s holding him back. “But, um… I watched your potato wars? And-“ he grinned slightly, “I guess there’s a reason why the Technoblade in my world was so obsessed with potatoes.”

Actually, it made more sense. Since it was possible to jump servers that weren’t personally created by an admin and settle for a normal survival world—he could take a good guess that his Techno’s rumors of a great war in the Skyblock server were true after all. And knowing he had a war about potatoes for almost a year-

It was both stupid and adorable how determined he was to be the best and lose the title as number one with humbleness when the pressure proved to be too much. Admirable, really. Sure, it was through a block game when he learned about it—but it didn’t change the fact how both his Techno and this world’s Techno were one in the same when it came to things they were passionate about.

Even when it was about fucking potatoes and they lost too much sleep over it. Notch, no wonder Techno grinded too many resources in a short amount of time...

“Don’t mind me bein’ self-centered at the moment-“ Dream snorted at that, but said nothing to let the brunette continue, “-but what am I like in your world? Like… I’m curious how my minecraft skin translates to your reality. I know I’m still an anarchist and all that, although I barely roleplay at all other than me bein’ a genius at timin’... I’m kiddin’, I just get peer-pressured by chat a lot.”

Another point that made sense as to why Techno was too nervous and anxious whenever he was cornered until he delivered his own amazing speeches better than he could’ve done (his personality and voice made it even better). And the fact his fans, or chat, were equivalent to the actual voices in the Blood God’s head when he watched a few of his old streams that weren’t in the Dream SMP?

Clearing his throat so as to not laugh all of a sudden, Dream hummed, drumming his fingers on the cup in thought, “Not sure if you planned it- but you’re a piglin hybrid, which makes sense considering the...skin you used.” Using their terms was so odd sometimes, he swore. “You have two forms, one is, of course, your piglin form, and the other is a more human version but with pointed ears and sharp teeth.”

Technoblade raised a brow, interested and also seemingly exasperated. He wondered why that was. “Does that mean me havin’ pink hair is canon?”

“Braided and long pink hair that was shortened because of a duel. And yes, that duel was canon.” Dream said with a hint of pride, especially recalling how he watched the duel (it made him giggle in childish glee how ridiculous it looked as a blocky video game as a whole, but still impressive regardless-) and damn, he remembered watching Treasure Planet with Fundy from that playful date—but the animation of their duel was nearly a copy and paste, if a little short.

Technoblade whistled, smirking, “Good to know I still managed to beat your ass in a cool way.”

“Shut up, I can beat your ass right here, right now, and actually win without breaking a sweat. Which is saying something because I could never beat the Techno in my world.” Dream pointed out in a matter-of-factly tone, wiggling his finger at the glasses-wearing man. Technoblade let out a chuckle.

“Listen—I play video games, Dream. I know you can beat me with your hands tied behind your back while I barely work out without gettin’ back complaints.”

“Ender, you sound like an old man.”

“Shut up, Dream.” Technoblade said dryly, huffing in an almost petulant way. Dream tried not to smile too obviously, hiding it by sipping his chocolate drink (this world’s Techno was really...endearing and awkward, huh? Just as understandable why he had so many loyal followers...and perhaps he left them hanging a bit too much-). “Anythin’ else, by the way?”

“You’re very much taller than me, in both forms. Your human form is half a head taller while your piglin form is an entire head, maybe more. And I’m already one of the tallest people on the server.” Dream added, knowing well he was boosting the man’s ego—which he didn’t mind considering he was...well, he couldn’t exactly say fragile (his life was, of course, everyone’s life here was fragile), but more so because he was just as fond of this Techno. Funny how he respected and slightly feared his Techno, but in this world—the pinkette turned brunette was, by all means, just…

Sweet. He was genuinely a nice person that deserved all the praise and fame (Dream may or may not have binged a lot of Technoblade’s videos as well. Listen- he still looked up to the man back in his world-). He couldn’t help but wonder if his stronger counterpart was the same underneath the uncaring, gruff, and bloodthirsty exterior.

And he was right. Technoblade blinked at him owlishly before scoffing, puffing his chest as he pushed his glasses up. And looking closely, there was a hint of pink on his cheeks (Dream hid his smile once again by drinking). “Well… That’s—good to know. Wouldn’t wanna lose my status of bein’ better than my rival.”

…It’s just their height.

Dream rolled his eyes at this, “Come on, you already beat us in the duel. Do you really need to add more salt to the wound? And, to be fair-“ he pointed an accusing finger at him, “-I’m amused we’re the same height right now. So technically, learning that my former rival’s counterpart is the same height as me is gratifying.” It’s kind of hilarious, really.

“Please, the only one feelin’ smug is you. Tell the other me, and he’s just gonna be offended.” Technoblade grumbled under his breath before pausing, shooting him a questioning look, “Former rival?”

The younger man froze, involuntarily biting onto the straw before easing the tension on his jaw (and his shoulders-). Dream hummed softly, quietly, avoiding his gaze, “I know you and my counterpart became friends and all after the duel, but for me… I’m not really sure what me and my Technoblade are. We’re not really...friends? But we’re not enemies, either. Could be neutral, but also allies when needed. I don’t know…”

Dream bit his tongue to hold himself back from blurting out about the favor he tried to call in for the last time before his communicator was taken away from him, trying to think of something else as he finished his drink (although the sweetness was beginning to lessen when nearing the end).  

“Was it because I said I was busy?”

He snapped his head back up in surprise, but Technoblade had his gaze averted this time, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous and guilty fashion. “I wasn’t sure if that happened to your world, but lookin’ at your reaction—guess I fucked that up, too, huh.” 

“Hey- you didn’t do anything wrong, Techno,” Dream was quick to reassure him, eyes wide, “Even if that event happened in both worlds, it happened for different reasons, right? I’m sure my Techno was busy for a good reason, especially when he was already retired at that point in time and… and I don’t think he knew I was in prison, either.”

“That doesn’t exactly ease the guilt I’m feelin’, Dream, but I appreciate the attempt.” Technoblade sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He tilted his head to give him a side-glance, his smile sad and hesitant, “My reason for bein’ busy was because I had somethin’ else planned, so I couldn’t jump in the game. But knowin’ that it happened in your world, that your Techno also happened to have done the same—sure, that’s fine, it’s normal to be busy, but, Dream-“

He pinned the blonde a hard look, nearly a glare, but it wasn’t exactly directed at him. “You were in prison. That was, what- three months ago, now? It doesn’t help how everythin’ that was planned for your character is reality for you—fuck.” Technoblade cut himself off, rubbing a hand over his face. Dream clutched his empty cup, biting his lip to prevent them from quivering. “God, I feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t say that…” the admin whispered weakly, ignoring the way his voice shook, “I’ll—I’ll admit I was hurt, because you really were the only person I could turn to ask for help and you just- dismissed me and all, but- it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for it.” 

It might be his Techno’s fault, but in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bitter. Techno was his only ally, the only person he actually trusted no matter how sad it sounded—to trust an ally he wasn’t even close to being good friends with when looking at their history. 

Dream was ashamed to admit he was scared and felt himself lose his grasp at control that he impulsively turned to Techno one last time before he was unable to use his communicator. And… And the devastation he felt when the response he got was the hybrid being busy, finding something more important than returning the favor—it hurt. It hurt like hell, even more so after going through hell itself for three months straight (and wasn’t it fun to learn he had been stuck in prison for three fucking months?).  

He was pissed, shocked, and hurt. It almost felt like betrayal. It might as well have been when the events after that led up to that was just—torture. Pure, agonizing torture that chipped away his sanity and will to live piece by piece. As if Techno had turned his back on him, leaving him to face his doom, to face Sam, to face Quackity, left him starved, beaten, sliced, burned, drowned, blinded. Felt like a slap to the face when Dream tried to be there and help Techno in the past as best as he could without completely appearing as his ally lest the others used it against them.

Funny, wasn’t it. Maybe Dream still didn’t do enough to be someone who had to be saved, much less be saved by the legendary Technoblade himself.

The said man’s counterpart stared at him, having straightened slightly, mostly still slouching, as he held the coffee cup rather loosely in his hand. For once, after spending a lot of time with him—his expression was unreadable, so similar to his counterpart, when he had been so honest, open, and sincere no matter how awkward he was during their talks together ever since yesterday.

And then Technoblade fell forward until his forehead was resting on his shoulders. Dream flinched in surprise, dropping his empty cup in the process but was too shocked and confused to really give a damn. 

“T-Techno?”

“I’m sorry, Dream.” He murmured quietly, hushed and strained, “God, fuck, I’m so sorry for everythin’ that happened to you. I know I shouldn’t because we’re—we’re not even from the same world but- you’re one of my best friends here. The fact that another alternate version of my best friend was left to suffer torture and isolation when another me could’ve fuckin’ helped-“ he chuckled dryly, devoid of any emotion. Dream couldn’t even see his face to know whether he was smiling self-deprecatingly or frowning in regret. “-honestly, everyone feels like shit, Dream. It’s just a hard pill to swallow. This isn’t somethin’ we can brush off so easily- somethin’ I can brush off easily.”

Dream’s lip trembled, his eyes starting to burn, before he took a deep, shaky breath to compose himself and used a free hand pat his back, managing a weak smile even though he knew the other couldn’t see it with his current position. He wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t his and anyone’s fault for what had happened to him. To them, it was just roleplay, and to Dream—it was his unfortunate reality. His punishment for everything he had done. And it hurt to admit that he probably deserved it, because he did. He really did and he knew that.

He just wished this world’s Techno didn’t have to apologize for something he had no control over. And to the others who were still lounging down stairs, outside the room he was residing in.

If only it was his friends who apologized to him instead. If only he had the ability to apologize, too, before it was already too late.

“Thank you, Techno…” Dream said instead, smiling softly as he continued rubbing the man’s back once he felt the faintest tremors. “I… I hope wherever your Dream is, whether we switched places or not—I hope he’s doing fine so he can return to you and everyone else.”

Technoblade chuckled, suspiciously sounding wet, but he quickly rubbed his face with his arm before reluctantly moving away. He smiled, relaxed with a touch of wistfulness. “Me too, Dream.” He chuckled again, “And if he really did swap places with you, I have no doubt he’s gonna end up tryin’ to fix your broken relationships. He’s stubbornly determined like that.”

Dream blushed slightly, rolling his eyes, “That’s a bit too much to imagine, don’t you think.” 

He shrugged, “Not really. Knowin’ how much he cares- he'll definitely chase after problems and fix ‘em. Honestly, I’m hopin’ he’s doin’ just that. You deserve at least that much.”

”But your Dream might be in so much danger, Techno,” the blonde pointed out worriedly, “If he really is in my place—he’s not going to survive. Everyone sees him—sees me as an enemy, as the bad guy in their lives, their story. And if he woke up in the prison-“

”Then let’s just hope that he doesn’t wake up prison and instead replaced Wilbur. Or Alivebur.” Dream made a face in slight confusion, tilting his head, and Techno scoffed in amusement, “Not sure if you’ve watched the lore and shit but he’s supposed to respawn in the last place he died. So somewhere very far from the prison. Let’s think positive, yeah?”

”But-“

Techno patted his shoulder, leaning against an arm he propped behind him on the bed and took another sip of his coffee, “There’s no doubt both of you actually switched places considerin’ we can’t find any traces of our Dream, and he isn’t the kind of host to leave his guests panickin’.” He tilted his head to give the bewildered admin a reassuring smile. A little hesitant as well, no doubt just as worried for his close friend and rival, but he still tried. “Just hope for the best, Dream.”

Dream softened, looking away to stare at his hands, the scars hidden underneath the bandages. It really was too much of a wishful thinking, but if his counterpart was in his place instead and was stubborn enough to help fix the bridges he had burned—it would mean the world to him. Maybe apologize in his place, to make it easier...or it could be just him being too much of a coward to do it himself, too scared of the possibility of being ignored, of his apology being dismissed as insincere and fake because he was a manipulative villain.

But regardless—if Dream was given a second chance, he wasn’t going to waste his opportunity again. He wasn’t ready to go back just yet, obviously, and who knew how long he was going to be stuck here for, but...

“Yeah…” he muttered, smiling to himself, small and uncertain, but it was there.

“I hope so, too.”

Chapter Text

For the next two days, Dream was just trying to absorb everything about this different world. Perhaps not everything because it’s not like he was going to live here or anything (Notch, he hoped he wasn’t going to get stuck here-), but whatever’s helpful to keep him occupied from breaking down every night and pretending he was doing alright the next day when Techno (he wasn’t sure when he started calling him by his shortened name) knocked on his door to bring him food or keep him company.

He wasn’t exactly sure what’s been going on outside of his room, since he never left, not even to get his own food despite Techno repeatedly telling him he could go down whenever he wanted and no one would be there when he gave them a heads-up—but call Dream a coward. Even if he got to know how different everyone was compared to his world, how they were all generally nice people and didn’t look like they could hurt a fly, he couldn’t—get the memory out of his head, to shake of his body’s reaction when recalling how he couldn’t escape, the realization that he lost and wasn’t able to do a single thing about it.

No matter how awkward Techno was (not closed off, using sarcasm to hide his anxiety and fear and getting betrayed repeatedly-), how exasperated George was (not apathetic, not uncaring, not done with everything Dream had done-), how expressive Sapnap was (not reeking hatred whenever he was around him-), how considerate Wilbur was (not the man who lost his sense of self until he was a madman who took down everything he cared for and became who he hated-), how Tommy was a caring little shit (not the kid he traumatized and manipulated-), how Tubbo was just as chaotic as everyone else (not the kid who was pushed into a role he shouldn’t be given in the first place-), how Philza was really a father figure to everyone but in heavy denial (who didn’t kill his son with by his own hands and cared less about anyone else other than Techno-), how Ranboo (human Ranboo, not an enderman hybrid who could barely breathe whenever Dream’s name was mentioned-) was a fan who got the recognition he deserved, how Niki was an angel as ever (he felt guilty for repeatedly ruining everyone’s lives and took the one place she called home-), how Puffy was so different and kind (not the only parental figure Dream had ever had and broke of any lingering emotions of familial love-), Bad and Skeppy were...canon? He didn’t understand their relationship but it’s nice seeing them so happy (while Bad had lost his mind to serve something or someone else-).

Even if his head processed how this wasn’t his world, that the Dream SMP was all in a game, a roleplay, a storyline created for fun between friends—he couldn’t stop himself from spiralling down memory lane and panic until he couldn’t breathe at the very thought of encountering one or everyone in the same room.

Dream chuckled to himself, tilting his head back until he hit the wall from where he was sitting on the farthest side of the bed, laptop on his lap. When had he become so...pathetic? A fucking coward? He knew no one was going to hurt him, and was incapable of hurting him while he had the highest chance of hurting someone—but the fear stuck and didn’t seem to be going away any time soon. 

Notch, he had been stuck in this room for four days now, or whatever (he kind of lost count). The only companion he had was Techno—and to his shame, he had...grown attached to the man. Most likely because he was really the first person he actually had a normal conversation with since he was thrown in prison for months, and partly because he was his...only ally’s counterpart.

Was it wrong of him to say he almost preferred this Techno? Because he connected with him in a matter of a few days, felt comfortable and—not overly trusting, of course, but he just-

Dream groaned, covering his face with the oversized sleeves of a hoodie (his counterpart’s merch—and he had to admit, it’s so fucking soft to wear-) and slid down against the headboard, not caring how he was practically breaking his back (he did parkour for a reason).

Ender, why was that all he could think about? Oh, it’s not like he couldn’t stop himself from comparing everyone and everything because what else was he supposed to do? Continue to drown in the softest blankets he had ever bundled himself in (it wasn’t a lie, he would always melt when he wrapped himself in it and suffice to say, Techno wouldn’t stop smiling at him with amusement and a raised eyebrow while not saying a thing. He tried not to flush in embarrassment at acting like a child), watch whatever the hell he could find on the internet, mostly just YouTube or whatever, and probably wait until he got sent back to his world and back in the prison because no way in Nether would his counterpart be in his place, trapped and all alone, surrounded by enemies, familiar faces that would only see his face and he could die-

“I need to stop listening to Techno rambling.” Dream groaned to himself, partly because he had been watching too many videos from the said man (he was practically the embodiment of sarcasm, and adding the fact he would play with Ranboo, too, just doubled the sarcasm it hurts his stomach and his head-) and now he was getting influenced. 

Not that he was complaining, because it proved to be a good defense mechanism whenever he woke up in the middle of the night choking on his own breath when he was back in the cell, alone, wrapped in darkness with Quackity standing in front of him, his enchanted netherite axe creating an eerie glow as he walked closer and closer and Dream couldn’t do a damn thing as he was rooted on the floor, body frozen and head blank as his eyes widened helplessly before the weapon was swung at him and his mouth released a silent scream—except blood was spilling out of his mouth instead before a sound could bounce off the obsidian walls and the color red was splattered everywhere and the process was repeated again and again and again and again and again until he was choking and desperate to crawl away but he died and respawned-

“BIG D, HOW ARE YOU DOING?!”

Dream practically slammed his head against the headboard when the door was suddenly slammed open along with a very loud shout, a startled scream escaping his throat and bundled both the laptop and the pillow underneath and clutched them to his chest. His eyes widened until his eyebrows flew over his hairline, jaw dropping in shock when—when seeing Tommy standing proudly on the door frame. 

He didn’t look too different from his Tommy (he looks like a child-), although his hair was more of a darker and dirtier blond, and his physique was thinner, lankier—like that of the teenager he actually was (not the one who had to get stronger to survive in a world where blood could be spilled any time, where you couldn’t trust everyone you see, not even the people you’ve known for a long time when they could’ve changed, where lying was practically second nature to ensure their own survival and safety over someone else-). But he lacked the scars that were scattered all over his counterpart’s body, skin fair and clean and his—his eyes.

Bright cerulean reminiscent of the ocean and the sky, not like the dull blue diamond ore that was as sharp as the sword. Sparkling with life, just like how his smile was wide and how he positively beamed at the sight of him (not glaring with hate even at the mere mention of his name, the pure, utter fear when watching Dream kill someone he no doubt cared about but refused to admit, the blank emptiness as he stared out the lava pool below him-).  

Yet Dream could see the way he softened slightly as if noticing his frightened reaction huddled against the bed, something similar to sadness and...devastation glinting in his eyes, his smile faltering just slightly but remained where it was.

“Tommy! What did I say about bargin’ in like that!”

Dream (and Tommy) flinched at the stern voice that echoed in the hallways with footsteps accompanying the sound, both blondes looking to see Techno standing behind Tommy, chest heaving slightly as if he ran all the way to the room to stop the boy.

Which might be the case, Dream mused, as he watched the teen turn fully to face the brunette with a sheepish grin, clutching the blankets tightly to calm his thundering heart hurting his chest and resisted the urge to throw up (he could still see it, see the day before he got transported to this world, the look on Tommy’s face as he killed Ghostbur right in front of him-).

“Heyyyyy, Techno! Technoblade! The Blade!” Tommy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Techno simply cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed, and the boy wilted slightly like a flower, “Okay- I know, I know. I could’ve fucked shit up and triggered him when my counterpart’s basically a bitch. I got it.”

Techno deadpanned, “And why are you here.” He stated more than asked, which was...admittedly reminiscent of his counterpart.

Tommy didn’t say anything, averting his gaze to the side where Techno wasn’t the focus, humming nervously, “Because… I… wanted... to see Dream?” he confessed sheepishly, tucking his hands in his pockets, shrugging helplessly. Techno sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, causing his glasses to rise up slightly before reaching out to flick the boy’s forehead.

Ignoring the indignant yell from Tommy, he turned to look at Dream, still huddled on the bed but just a little relaxed the moment Techno showed up, “Sorry ‘bout that, Dream. Not sure if you’ve seen the clips but, uhh-“ he vaguely gestured to the blonde who was now staring at him intently. Dream pointedly avoided looking his way and focused on Techno’s face, “-Tommy here is pretty much a big worrywart and could barely stay in one place when told he’s not allowed to visit you until you’re ready for other people seein’ you.”

“Fuck you!” Tommy hissed, his voice significantly lower than prior when glaring up at the man, but the admin wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. But Techno didn’t look his way, keeping his expectant gaze on him, waiting for an answer if he should drag Tommy out or leave him be.

Dream swallowed, trying for a shaky smile, “I-It’s fine. I was just—surprised, is all.” He reassured, waving a hand in dismissal and reluctantly uncurled himself from practically hugging his knees. He tried not show how much guilt was gnawing him, trying not to openly stare at the blonde teen who had everyone on his side while Dream was left alone to fucking rot and he didn’t mean to-

Techno stared at him for a little longer, narrowing his eyes slightly as if making sure he wasn’t lying, wasn’t feeling uncomfortable knowing Tommy was in the room when knowing how the boy’s counterpart didn’t exactly have the best relationship with him (Dream ignored the way his heart warmed at the obvious consideration and concern for him- it wasn’t going to last but he cursed his weak heart for getting attached, especially after the hell he went through-). “Are you really okay with him bein’ here? Because, you know, once you give ‘im the greenlight, he’s gonna be visitin’ you more than me after this.”

Dream blinked, eyes subconsciously flitting towards the said teen in question and nearly flinched when he was met with wide eager eyes, nearly pouting as if desperately wanting him to say yes. He leaned back slightly, surprised and a little uncertain, but the guilt swirling in his gut when he was reminded of his Tommy—he couldn’t… he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“I…” he trailed off, swallowing nervously, desperately pushing the image away of Tommy’s furious face, diamond sword glinting, as protective shadows towered behind him and over Dream- “Yeah, it’s fine, Techno. I don’t mind.” Dream paused, then allowed his lips to form a small, sly smile as he regarded the brunette, “I need a change of scenery, anyway.”

Techno gaped right as Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over and slapping the man’s bicep repeatedly, “Holy shit- Dream just called you boring!”

“Heh?!” was Techno’s incredibly offended response, no malice whatsoever, “Is this what I get for makin’ sure you’re adjustin’ to this world and keepin’ everyone out of your room? Ungrateful. All of you.” He accused rather dramatically, scowling when Tommy continued to cackle. “Stop laughing, I’m hurt, you little-“ Techno quickly sealed his lips, pursing them with a frustrated and exasperated look that did nothing to lessen the boy’s laughing fit.

“Good to know you stopped cussing at me! Dadza would’ve kicked your ass for swearing a minor out!”

“Says the child that swears more than me on a daily basis, even more so in videos.” Techno immediately retorted back with a calm deadpan, and Tommy froze to squawk indignantly, pointing a finger at him.

“YOU SWEAR MORE THAN ME! LIKE, EVERY DAY?! ESPECIALLY AROUND DREAM?!”

Techno waved his hand offhandedly, smirking, “The fans don’t know that, Tommy. And I’m the favorite child. You think anyone’s gonna listen to you?” when Tommy made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, he just patted the boy’s messy nest of hair. “It’s okay, Tommy. We still love you no matter what. Just know you get the short end of the stick most of the time.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?! LISTEN HERE-“

Dream felt himself smile a little wider, chuckling silently like a puff of air, bringing a sleeve up to hide his smile. They acted like how Dream would around Sapnap and George. Like brothers. It’s really cute when recalling how excited his Tommy was when Dream teamed up with Techno against… well, for a fish (against Sapnap-).  

His smile fell off his lips when realizing something, gaze zeroing on the two who were still bickering in front of him and immediately felt regret clench his heart. He—he remembered Techno and Tommy having history. That extended to Wilbur and Phil, too, before the former died by his father’s own hands (adopted or biological?). Dream wasn’t sure if they had been...brothers before everything went downhill. But he had seen the videos. The SBI of this world. 

In this world, they were practically family despite having yet to have an actual reunion with all four of them. Incredibly close. He had seen how Philza got his iconic ‘Dadza’ nickname (how Philza in his world stared at nothing, in a daze, after killing his own son, before falling to his knees and screamed-). How people would assume Wilbur and Tommy were actually brothers with how much they got along and how their dynamic mixed so well, until realizing that they weren’t, in fact, blood-related (the utter betrayal in Tommy’s eyes when he caught on how Wilbur, the same man who helped him build L’manberg, was the traitor who blew up the same country they had built fromt the ground up-).

How Techno was literally the middle child but presumed to be the eldest—which made sense, and quite hilarious, knowing how he was somewhat the sane one despite happily stabbing children for money in mini games in a deadpan tone, but it was obvious how he was fond of Tommy, Wilbur, and Philza (how the hurt was obvious in his eyes when Tommy had gone against his morals, his ideals, right in front of him, and had no choice but to show how he wasn’t one to be trifled with, how the Blood God wouldn’t forgive anyone who openly opposed him, family and friends or not-).

And Dream-

He ruined them. 

He broke them all. It was all his fault. He pushed Wilbur to insanity, and gave him TNT. It was all his fault that Tommy had gone from the young boy who would follow him to create chaos, to the war-hardened teen who had trust issues and soon—trauma, all because of Dream. Philza- he barely talked to the man, but the few times he did, he would always see the way he stared at Techno, when the pinkette wasn’t looking, with something akin to sadness, remorse, and how his eyes glazed over at the mention of Wilbur before composing himself when Ghostbur came by (Dream was the reason he lost a son and Techno lost someone who could’ve been a brother figure in his life other than a friend-). And Techno—he was alone, even if he had Philza. But the price had been paid, what’s done was done, for being misunderstood, for being labeled as the strongest villain right after Dream, and no one would dare approach him unless they had intentions of hurting him or needing his aid. It had him lonelier before retiring to gather his small group, the Syndicate, and stayed away from the mainland.

But it didn’t change the fact that it was Dream’s fault in the first place he broke a family apart. He broke them apart. He wasn’t sure if they had familiar history since they never shared personal stories, but he didn’t have any doubts if they did after watching countless of videos of them being a fucking family and he ruined it all-

“You okay there, big man?” 

Dream snapped out of his thoughts to meet Tommy’s bemused and mildly concerned cerulean, head tilting to the side. Techno was missing (did he leave them alone together-), the door closed behind the teen, and he quickly remembered he was asked a question- “I’m—fine. Sorry.” He said sheepishly, shoving the panic and guilt down before it could filter through, which was something he didn’t want right now.

Tommy simply stared at him, unmoving and gaze practically burning holes on his head. Dream blinked, shifting slightly at the intensity of his stare. He couldn’t even tell what he was thinking, his expression scarily unreadable like a certain man who was like an older brother to him.

“Uhh…” Dream started awkwardly, unconsciously tugging on the strands of his hoodie, “Is there something you want...T-Tommy?” he wanted to bash his head against the nearest surface at the unintentional stutter, hating how small and weak he sounded because he wasn’t sure how to—address this Tommy. Not that there should be a reason for him to feel embarrassed in the first place, but, habits die hard, right?

Tommy said nothing, unblinking, and then- 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry what?” Dream sputtered on reflex, confused and a little baffled, especially when Tommy cringed and averted his gaze, rubbing his arm rather nervously. 

“Okay, that was pretty shit. Um-“ Tommy cleared his throat, turning to look back at the dirty blonde with a look of grim determination on his face, “I know there’s—no reason for me to apologize because you’re not, uh-“ he gestured vaguely at the room, or something, “-from here and all, but…”

Dream froze, eyes wide in shock. Why was he-

“Look- I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For—For being a bitch.” The boy continued before he could have a say in anything, leaving the man a little more than dumbfounded, “I’m shit at this but, like- I’m sorry, for playing a part in ruining your server. I know it’s all—roleplay and shit to us—but, I don’t know. It’s a scary thought, that we might’ve caused everything, you know? Because everything is...real to you.” Tommy shuddered at the last sentence, hugging himself and proceeded to look away again (was it that hard to hold his gaze?), “I just—couldn’t help myself. Because even after being a bastard, being a hero with Cla—Dream as my—as the main villain because we agreed to it, he agreed to it- you’re still someone I admire, you know?”

“Tommy…” Dream breathed out, speechless. He also caught on the little slip, because there’s no way he could miss his own real name being uttered-

But the teen wasn’t finished, “I feel like the biggest moron with how—how my character treated you. The dead remains of your pet being sent to you, being stubborn as fuck to even listen to what you say even in a roleplay- you know what I mean? I feel terrible, Dream. And kinda scared, if I’m being honest? Since—Since it took a while for us to really accept that you’re another Dream who got thrown in prison—fuck! Holy shit, Dream- I’m so fucking sorry for taking your armor away and killing your cat! Fuck!”

Tommy groaned in his hands, burying his face in them and Dream lurched forward, hands itching to grab the blonde and reassure him but held himself back from doing so. He shoved the thought of Tommy retaliating at the touch, like how he reassured and hugged and isolated him during exile before remembering he wasn’t in his world- “Tommy- Tommy, please, it’s—it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for all of that. I—I did all those things in the end, okay? I’m not a good person, Tommy. Especially me, who’s from a world where your roleplay is a reality. I never was the moment I-“ wanted to control everything, to bring the peace back as if I had any right to manipulate and deceive people I saw as my friends, Dream bit his tongue from saying that, “-ruined everything. I was selfish and...pushed everyone away. I caused my own downfall because of my stupid ideals and morals. It’s not… It’s not your fault.”

Tommy made a frustrated sound, frowning at him with a glare but the glare wasn’t exactly directed at him. “Still. I was being mean to you. My character sounds like a bastard than a—fucking hero.”

“But you were acting, like you said, right?” Dream said softly, his smile small even when the urge to claw his throat to fucking breathe (no, no, Dream was the one who’s cruel, the one who took everyone’s peace and life and normalcy away until it came back to bite him in the ass with his only life in Quackity’s hands-) was strong. He clenched the bed sheets underneath him, trying to ground himself to reality, trying to see the boy right now, bright and happy, not the one who teased and mocked and insulted him- “You’re portrayed as the hero, Tommy. The—The main character, if I said that right. You don’t have to feel bad. And, to be fair, I did treat the Tommy in my world like shit. Manipulation and gaslighting and all. That’s—That’s never good, yet I still did it anyway because I was getting desperate.”

"You still stayed anyway! And you weren’t the one who exiled me in the first place!” Tommy tried, and Dream felt his throat clog up.

"Tommy-" his eyes burned but refused to let it show, keeping his cool (trying not to panic into a frenzy when the boy’s voice went louder, loud and screeching until Dream couldn’t help it and wrapped his hand around his laughably fragile throat-), “Even if I didn’t, I took advantage of you! I know you’re not the same Tommy but I did horrible things you can’t understand!” Tommy flinched, eyes wide, but Dream didn’t notice, “I didn’t care for what I did that time, I didn’t regret it at all back then! You’re not the only one too—I neglected my friends until they just looked at me like a stranger! I had power and I used it, I abused it to have my way because everything was falling apart-“

“You have a fucking point! I get it, I can’t understand what you’ve been through!” Tommy cut him off abruptly, clenching his hands beside him and Dream refrained from flinching at the angered look on his face, keeping his eyes narrowed, “But stop thinking it’s all your fucking fault, you selfless bastard! You did a lot of fucked up things in your world, okay, fine, you’re a shitty human being—but stop ignoring how we did just as worse!” he threw his hands, frustration lining his tense posture and Dream froze, his eyes going wide as his initial panic and anger melted away almost instantly.

”Wh-what?”

”Did you not hear anything I said?” the boy scowled, stomping closer towards the bed and Dream leaned back, apprehensive and breath hitching, but that didn’t stop him from poking an aggressive finger at his chest. “Our world is roleplay, Dream. We gave ourselves, our characters, different roles to push the lore—but for you? You and everyone else are real, and—and what, tore each other apart? Wanna guess who made it worse, huh, Dream?”

”Tommy-“ Dream started, trying to stop him but flinched in surprise when the blonde barked out a sharp laugh, dry with no mirth.

”You’re right. I caused more problems than fix it. It doesn’t help how the rest of us knew shit about talking like sensible adults, and if we didn’t try talking it out in our story—then I sure as hell know our counterparts are worse than us if they never tried talking. Or talking to you.” Tommy scowled, “If you think about it—we’re all shitty people, Dream! We pushed you into being the villain, even if our Dream accepted the role and we all made sure he was fine after every lore stream, it’s fucking worse on your end! Why can’t you see how unreasonable we’re being?! Even George and Sapnap left you, right?!”

Dream did a full-body flinch, his breath leaving his lungs as his chest tightened in pain, “Th-that… That’s…” he mumbled uselessly, staring up at Tommy, speechless.

Tommy made a frustrated sound, gesturing wildly, “I’m right, aren’t I?” he huffed, “I didn’t spend a whole day being lectured by everyone why I shouldn’t see you because of how our counterparts treated you, but from what Technoblade implied—you’re still blaming yourself. Maybe you blame us, too, but you always shift the blame back to yourself. We ruined your server, Dream. We broke all your rules- we stole, we griefed, we—fuck, I can’t remember the other rules!” he pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head, pinning the dumbfounded admin with a glare, “We did a lot worse than you ever did! It’s not like you exploded things! You gave Wilbur the TNT but Wilbur was the one who ended up using it anyway! Don’t even get me stared on your friends—they’re bitches who backstabbed you just like what we did to Techno. No one listened. They only hear and see what they want! Just accept that not everything is your fault!”

”I FUCKING CAN’T WHEN EVERYONE ALREADY LEFT BECAUSE OF ME!” Dream snapped, tears burning and blurring his eyes as a pathetic sob left him, and he realized with a choked gasp when his head cleared to see Tommy-

Tommy was crying.

”I made it worse, didn’t I?” the boy mumbled softly, staring at him with sad eyes and Dream clamped his jaw shut, shaking his head and was ready to protest that no, it wasn’t, he was just trying to explain and Dream kept denying everything he heard until he couldn’t keep it in anymore-

“Tommy-“

Before Dream could even form a proper sentence, the boy flung himself at the unprepared admin. His throat closed up, head immediately filled with static at the sudden body contact, and his instincts were screaming at him to push the weight away, to scramble back and get on his knees to plead and beg to lessen the pain—but his mind froze when he heard a sniffle and snapped his gaze down, the haze clearing slightly when seeing Tommy sobbing quietly against his chest. All his frustrations disappeared to focus on him.

Dream hesitated, hands hovering behind the boy’s back, uncertain if he even had the ability or experience to comfort him—but after another sob, quiet and stifled as if he didn’t want him to hear, Dream threw his doubts and gently wrapped his arms around him, awkwardly patting his back.

”Hey, it’s… i-it’s okay…” he whispered softly, biting his lip when Tommy only sobbed and rubbed his face against him, “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—snap. You were just…trying to help.” 

Tommy reluctantly peered at him, sniffling slightly and stubbornly rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, “Fuck you. There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I know everyone else wants to apologize to you, even if you’re not from here and it’s fucking pointless to say sorry to someone who’s not even the same person. God- you’re a fucking idiot sometimes, Dream. You’re different but still the same damn person and it’s infuriating.”

“Look who’s talking,” Dream teased hoarsely, huffing a breathy chuckle when Tommy scowled weakly and slapped his arm with barely any effort. “I’m serious. I’m sorry. And—okay, maybe you’re right, about everything, but I never…” he swallowed past the lump, “I never got to apologize to my Tommy, either, you know? Or to everyone, really.”

Dream sighed, leaning back against the headboard while making sure the boy was still comfortable, subconsciously rubbing gentle circles on his back (he forgot what it’s like to comfort something, to hug them, to feel warmth knowing he got to make them the slightest bit happy-). “You didn’t…deserve any of the shit that happened to you. None of it. You weren’t supposed to experience loss, grief, and hopelessness. I know it’s not real, but... I do want to apologize. I’ve wanted to apologize for a very long time, actually. I was just...scared to admit it, I guess.” He scoffed, tilting his head up to smile bitterly at the ceiling, “But because I was such a coward to be honest, I ended up pushing everyone I love away. I basically isolated myself long before I was thrown in prison. And—blaming everyone won’t change a thing because no one… Yeah, you’re right about that. I doubt anyone would listen to what I say. I can’t blame them completely for that.”

”Everyone’s shit at talking or communication or whatever…” Tommy mumbled on his shirt, hugging closer. “And they’re shit for not talking to you.”

Dream chuckled weakly, “You have a point.” He said softly, “I… I kind of blame them for the events that happened, but in the end, I pushed everyone away. There’s no one to blame but me, Tommy. We’re—we’re all to blame, yeah, we all make mistakes, there’s no denying that, but I… Fuck.” 

Dream leaned hunched forward, burying his face in the teen’s soft blonde locks, biting his tongue to hold in a sob as a few traitorous tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, “I should’ve apologized long ago, Tommy. I should’ve just talked. Instead I used violence. I took the hard way without giving everyone the chance to choose. I didn’t realize until I was locked up that I was all alone in my goals. I—I used people. I used my friends. I thought they were on my side but—but that was just me clinging onto the false hope that what I was doing was right and that’s-“ his voice cracked, clenching his eyes tightly causing more tears to fall, “-that’s a whole new level of fucked up. There’s more things I did, like worse, and I wanna apologize for it but I—I can barely put it into words without taking hours. I was losing it and it’s too late to—to turn back.”

”No one helped you, huh.”

Dream smiled bitterly, “No.” He responded simply, “No one did.”

“You got tortured, too, Dream.” Tommy muttered quietly, voice thick with emotion and Dream stilled, mouth drying up at the reminder. “It sounds fucked up now. It’s...It’s real to you. You really got tortured and left alone in prison. That…” he trailed off, pursing his lips, then hid his face in the admin’s shoulder, tightening his arms around his torso.

He swallowed the lump past his throat, his smile weak and shaky, trying to block those memories away, “Yeah… It’s kind of fucked up in real life and not a video game. That’s… I guess that’s one thing I want to blame everyone for. Being tortured every day isn’t…ideal, for any prisoner or human being.” He paused, pulling away slightly to give Tommy an apologetic look, “And I—I’m sorry for killing and bringing you back to life. And—And killing…Ghostbur, in front of you.”

Tommy shook his head against him, releasing a stuttered breath, “It’s fine, Dream. It’s not like the other me even knows you got tortured and shit. And Wilbur’s alive and being a bitch as always.”

Dream clenched his jaw, tucking the boy underneath his chin at the way his voice turned small, scared. He said nothing in return, just holding the boy in his arms, before- 

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” He choked out, his vision getting blurry once again as he buried his face in his soft blonde locks, hugging him tighter.

Tommy jerked his head for a brief second, a semblance of a nod, and burrowed closer to him. “I know, big D.” He sniffled, arms wound up tightly around the man as if he was scared he was going to disappear.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“So… what now?”

“What now?” Tubbo repeated, looking at Dream with a tilted head. His hair has shifted a bit and Dream blinked at the sudden appearance of goat horns (when the fuck—he must’ve been so out of it to not be fucking aware of the large as fuck horns that curled around his head and over his goat ears-). There was a possibility that some fan headcanons had slipped into the world and how it worked. It made him wonder what else was considered real here. 

“Yeah.” Dream shrugged, shifting nervously at their stares. “I mean, like… I don’t know how this happened or even how I got here…”

“Wait, do you think the Dream we know did this on purpose?” Ranboo suggested, looking between the others.

“It’s possible…” Tubbo hummed. 

“Wait—what was he doing before this?” Dream cut in, sitting at the edge of his seat. He wasn’t fond of getting blamed for this occurrence (memories of the fanfics he read that had his counterpart as the villain flashed before his eyes before he shook them away—he wanted this to be different). “Was he doing a ritual in the prison or-“

“He was reviving Ghostbur…” Tommy whispered and Dream flinched, glancing at the teen in concern. 

“Right…” Dream muttered. He hadn’t actually given a solid ritual or instructions to revive someone, choosing to leave that up to the imagination of the viewers for drama. Because of this, he doesn’t know the exact wording in this world. He didn’t know what other differences there could be between their worlds. “That might be a catalyst or a cause.”

He didn’t mention why he thought that was the cause. He knew what was supposed to happen. He had planned and acted it out with the rest. He had known what was supposed to happen and it was not this. Nothing about this was something he thought could ever happen in his entire life. His entire world has gone off-kilter and he doesn’t know what to do or how to react—if he even reacted well enough at all. He shifted in his seat, hands wiping at his joggers as he tried not to show any outward nervousness. 

Dream didn’t want to break it to them that he lived in a world that viewed every action and event as insignificant. He didn’t want to admit that, if not for this entire thing happening—Dream wouldn’t have cared at all for what was going to happen to this world based on their roleplay. He didn’t want to admit that he had numerous plans—and not just him but every single one of the creators that were a part of this big storyline. He didn’t want to admit to these teens that their lives, their struggles and pains and loss were all considered fun and an act to Dream and his friends. He didn’t want to break it to them, not yet. Maybe slowly, maybe one by one. Maybe if he could find the right words. Maybe if he could get himself to speak. Maybe if he could find it in himself to be sorry.

Because before all of this, Dream SMP was just a passing event that made him and his friend happy and closer to one another. 

(But not now, not anymore—when the very same things that caused them to grow closer were also the very same things that drove everyone here apart-)

“I realized we never really asked…” Tubbo muttered, moving close to Dream as he looked him up and down. Dream startled out of his stupor, looking up at Tubbo, “But what kind of world did you come from?”

“Ah, a world very different from your own.” Dream chuckled nervously, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck, “Just- very different.”

“Like… a server?” Ranboo tilted his head to the side, curious and confused, “But I don’t think any server had the contraption that you had and well… the people in those videos…”

“Wait, servers exist here, too?” Dream muttered with wide eyes, a bit astonished with how the world worked. Every new information that he learned made him more and more eager to learn all about the world that he was thrust into. “But- well, no, that’s not how it works in my world.”

“Then how does it work?” Tubbo blinked down at him, apprehensive and curious.

“Well, I only have one life-”

“What the fuck?” Tommy screeched, “Just one?”

“Don’t you just have one life.” Ranboo teased with a snort. When he got a glare in return, he stopped and stepped back and behind Tubbo. “Nevermind.”

“Right, and well… technology is a really big thing and-” Dream started to explain how his world worked, leaving out the fact that he and his friends planned every single event that took place in their world. He still couldn’t...find the right words to explain to them how that worked and he knew he already broke their hearts and hopes when he showed them the videos. So familiar yet so painstakingly different and impossible.

“There aren’t any creepers or zombies, then?” Tommy asked, tilting his head after the explanation. 

“Uh, no? Those were-” his throat tightened before he said the words and the teens looked at him weirdly. He coughed and gave a shaky smile, waving off their concern, “-those were just, they were just characters in a game for me.”

There was a deep and long silence between them. Tubbo looked at him calculatingly, with apathy behind his eyes. Ranboo shifted on his spot nervously, squinting his eyes at Dream as if he was trying to process what he had said. Tommy scoffed and crossed his arms, his lips pulling up into a slight snarl. 

Before he could get anything out edgewise, Ranboo suddenly spoke up, “If that’s how different your world is to ours, then we should start planning on what to do.” 

“Right!” Tubbo interrupted him, perking up suddenly. “Wait, excuse Ranboo and I-”

“Hah?” Tommy stood up, looking at Tubbo and Ranboo, “Why can’t I join?”

“Well, someone has to make sure Dream doesn’t escape, right?” Tubbo beamed, subtly pushing Ranboo away from the two.

“But—he’s a stick?” Tommy waved at Dream who let out a small ‘hey’ in protest but was subsequently ignored. “And he fucking screamed at a creeper and a zombie—he said they didn’t even exist in his world beyond a game, what makes you think he wants to go out?”

“Make sure he doesn’t break anything then!” Tubbo laughed as he dragged Ranboo a bit further from them as they lingered by the door. Dream blinked when the couch dipped and he glanced at Tommy who huffed with crossed arms. The teen caught him staring and glared heatedly at him before he turned around and leaned back against the couch. 

Dream fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, eyes downcast as he wondered what he was supposed to do. When Tommy remained silent at his side, he let out a sigh and focused on Tubbo and Ranboo. They weren’t really that quiet with their discussion but it wasn’t like it was a secret anyways. Dream frowned and tuned in to their conversation—a bit curious on what exactly they were going to discuss about him. After all, he had probably switched places with the villain everyone knew and hated in this world. 

At least he hoped so.

He didn’t know what he would do if he was faced with such a twisted and wrong version of himself. Even if he essentially knew what pushed his character (and was he even a character anymore?), it sickened him that it was all...real. Even if he knew that the villain was broken and hurt and grieving and lashing out and—even with all these in his mind, he couldn’t bear to stand before him without cracking and shattering into a million pieces as well. He knew he couldn’t stand before the product of his insanity—of his want for more drama, for a deeper story, for a more detailed character without breaking his own heart and realizing that he did this. He caused this and it gripped at his heart and throat and everything was too tight and-

Dream let out a steady breath. He was not going to dwell on that now. Not when he could easily break down. Not when the teens were looking at him as this—imposing figure. Not when he needed to stand and stay strong- not just for himself but for others as well. Breaking down was never the answer or solution to any problem. He could face those emotions later and deal with the fear and the pain and the disappointment-

For now—he was going to focus on Ranboo and Tubbo. He was going to ground himself and listen to what they were saying. 

“-lots of enemies.” Tubbo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t just trust to keep him here when we could have some visitors, he’ll be in danger.”

“We can’t hide him for long, either.” Ranboo agreed with a nod, frowning as he cupped his chin in thought. “He can’t fight, right?”

Dream huffed, pouting slightly at that. He could try.  

“No, he can’t.” Tubbo shook his head. There was a pause, as if he was considering his next words. “Do you think it works on him?”

“The—the life system?” Ranboo raised an eyebrow, taking a peek at Dream. “I mean, why wouldn’t it?”

“Well, he comes from another world right?” Tubbo prompted, waving his hand around. “We’re believing that right?”

“The evidence is solid.” 

Dream licked his lips as he inserted his hand into his hoodie pocket, playing idly with his phone inside. He didn’t want to play around the thing too much—saving it’s battery for any future use. Who knew when would be the next time he’d need his beautiful little plot device. He still internally chuckles at that thought—who knew he’d actually have his phone with him when he was shoved into this crazy world. A world that he still hadn’t come into terms with because—really, it’s a stupid block game where he came from. There weren’t—there weren’t couches (though mods existed but he did not remember adding a mod to the server) and the monsters didn’t look anything like it’s cartoonish counterparts. This world looked so real and lifelike it made his head spin. 

“Then maybe he isn’t affected the same way as we are? I don’t know—but we’re going to be playing it safe.” Tubbo shook his head, “We need to find a better way to protect him.”

“Considering he—well, Dream has a lot of powerful enemies, then yeah.” Ranboo agreed readily and Dream wondered just how powerful the others were if the three of them weren’t enough. He paled a bit at the realization that he had no one on his side aside from these three and even then—even then they weren’t allies (hell, they weren’t even friends but it hurt too much to think about it that way-).  

“Yeah, he could die.” Tubbo mused, his voice reaching a familiar tone—something Dream knew his Tubbo would use when talking lightly about things (how he had used it and went ‘now he can’t breathe’ with Tommy, it always cracked him up—but now it only served to unnerve him).

“Who can we trust to help hide him?” Ranboo turned to Tubbo. 

Tubbo paused and he turned to stare at Dream. Dream blinked and smiled nervously at the teen. When he got a small and sad smile back, Tubbo turned back to Ranboo with a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“Tubbo.”

“I know but—I’m drawing up blanks, boss man.” Tubbo snorted, waving his hand around. Dream noted how his voice dropped a bit lower, as if he didn’t want to talk about this. As if he didn’t want to hand Dream over to anyone.

“Well, let’s go through everyone on the SMP and see if they’re still on good terms with Dream.” Ranboo suggested, taking out a book and quill from—again where the fuck is everything coming from? It looked like they just swipe at the air and it appeared and Jesus Christ Dream was getting another fucking headache from this entire thing. 

He leaned back and sighed, tuning out of their conversation. He knew exactly who held some form of allegiance with his counterpart. He knew and—and he couldn’t find it in himself to tell them about it. Not yet, not now. He couldn’t find the words nor could he find the sincerity deep in his heart. He didn’t want to tell them how insignificant their actions were to him and his friends—how the events that tore them all apart and left them wounded and traumatized only served to bring his friends closer and closer to becoming family. He had enough heartbreaks for today. Even as he turned to the side and looked at Tommy and how he-

How he looked exactly like Tommy. 

He sucked in a surprised breath as he carefully looked over the teen. He knew he looked like Tommy—hell, he was Tommy just from a different world. A world where he wore the skin of whatever Tommy had set in his Minecraft account. A world where he looked exactly like Tommy because the stupid kid made his skin look exactly like him. The only differences was he could pick out from this Tommy was how he had a multitude of scars and bruises and how his hair (which seemed duller here but Dream was sure it was dirty blonde still) was slightly longer and his eyes were...duller (because of exile, an oh-so traitorous part of his brain whispered and he flinched).

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Tommy—Tommy fucking Innit, the kid who would laugh loud enough to wake the whole mansion and play the stupidest of pranks on everyone, was someone that was as quiet and skittish and brutal as the teen that was sitting next to him. He couldn’t believe that this was real but it was and it was his fault. To an extent, everything that happened in this world was his fault. He had played the villain and pushed everything to the limit—portraying himself as the worst human being possible and destroying everything (friendships, hopes, homes, the will to live-) left and right. 

He let out a shaky breath as he lowered his head in shame, realizing just how badly he had treated Tommy in this world. Tommy, who would always check in on him, whether when it was back when they were still talking to each other online or when they started living together and he kept bursting into his room just to see if he was okay. Tommy, who would always laugh at his stupidest of jokes and give him an even stupider joke. Tommy, who would smile so brightly and make anyone in their large mansion laugh and feel better. Tommy, who would pester him to teach him to do fun things like a manhunt or parkour. Tommy, who—despite it all, was like a little brother for him to call on and mess around with. 

Dream bit his lip and pondered for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and scenarios. He wanted to fix all of this but it wasn’t his place to. He wanted to apologize but what was there to apologize for? He wanted to comfort the teen but he didn’t know if any comfort was wanted or needed. He wanted to—and suddenly he was reaching forward with a single word on his lips-

“Hey.”

Tommy didn’t say anything but he did move his head a bit, turning it to his direction. Dream counted that as a win as he dropped his hand down and licked his lips nervously. He had not planned it out at all and he’s going to start spitting out apologies (like he always did—twitter drama always prepared him for the worst and he was always a sensitive person, pouring out the sincerest of apologies left, right, and center-) and hope for the best. 

“Look, Tommy, I- I’m sorry.” His breath hitched in between the sentence but he continued on, hoping that he sounded sincere because Tommy needed this. “I’m sorry that—that you had to go through all of this because you don’t deserve it. You never deserved to be abused and used and- everything that happened shouldn’t have happened.”

Tommy remained quiet but Dream had heard the quiet scoff. He froze and felt his body tighten into a coil of tension and fear and-

The familiar feeling of rejection pooled in his gut, twisting and turning and-

Dream swallowed, and gripped at the cushions. His nails dug into the soft fabric as he looked down and bit his lip, “I know my apology doesn’t hold any weight in your world, and it might be presumptuous of me to say this but I just—I just want to apologize, Tommy.”

For all the grief, all the pain, all the anger and loneliness. He wanted to apologize for knowingly putting him in such situations—for causing so much grief and pain and loss. Dream wanted to gather Tommy into his arms and comfort him and tell him he mattered because Dream knew how hard it was to continue on when everything else told you otherwise. He wanted to tell him that everyone was wrong and how Tommy was better than them. He wanted to soothe his wounds and tell him that he might have been wrong at times but—so had everyone else. No one was completely right and that’s alright—they didn’t have to be right. No one was perfect and no one should be.

“I want to—I want to apologize for the things that happened to you because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve exile-” Tommy flinched but Dream pushed on, “You didn’t deserve all the anger directed at you. You didn’t deserve to fight a war so young.”

“How would you know?” Tommy spat out, a little bit hesitant but for all intents—malicious. “You live in a perfect world where everyone is friends and-”

“-and we all play a stupid game where we make war and loss and everything in between insignificant.” Dream cut in passionately, his voice low as he refused to meet Tommy’s eyes wide in pain and anger and sorrow. 

“What…?”

“I-... R-Remember when I said your world was a game?”

“You-”

“We made this story- this world. Everything that happened here was not coincidence—it was all planned out.” Dream let out before he could overthink and hesitate. He closed his eyes, hands shaking as he admitted it all to Tommy, bared his soul to the teen that was broken and bruised and shattered beyond repair. “We all thought it was a good story—we all agreed that we'd play it out. We didn’t think- we never thought it would be anything beyond that. A story between friends.”

There was silence and Dream felt a shiver up his spine. He hated the silence more than hearing screaming and raging. In the silence, he would stew with his own thoughts and be left wondering where he went wrong. In the silence, Dream would be more aware and attuned to his words and he’d nitpick on himself and his apology.

In the silence, Dream was more vulnerable. 

“I know my apology won’t—mean anything, not from me at least.” Dream sucked in a breath between his teeth because it was the truth. He never went through any of this. He wasn’t the one that ruined Tommy, and everyone else's lives. He wasn’t the big bad villain that needed to apologize. He was just a streamer who made a stupid story with his friends and it went viral, “You deserve a better and more sincere apology from the people who actually hurt you and you don’t even have to forgive them or me. You deserve so much from them and nothing from me but I just—I just...want to apologize.” 

Another beat of silence.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the words that he said during exile. I’m sorry for all the wars that plagued your life. I’m sorry for all the anger and hate and pain you felt. I’m sorry for all the loss you experienced at my hands. I’m sorry for—for putting you through this.” Dream let out a shaky breath, opening his eyes slowly as he let a bitter smile slip into his face, “I’m sorry that you had to lose everything like this. I’m sorry that we chose the more dramatic—that we decided to make everything so horrible for you. All of you.”

Complete and utter silence.

“I know this apology means nothing coming from me. From someone who lives in a world that isn’t as bad as yours. I know that—that I can’t really relate to anything you’ve gone through and this might sound like a pity apology for me to feel better but it’s not. I—we could’ve gone and done so much more. We could’ve chosen a different way of presenting the story, chosen a less dramatic part. Hell, maybe choose a different main character or lighten up and give you all a break for a few months or something.” Dream’s voice trembled as he pushed on. “We could’ve done so many other things but we—we chose to rush things and so many big things happened consecutively and it must’ve been so hard for all of you. I just—I just want to say I’m sorry.”

Dream looked up and into the dull blue eyes of Tommy. Dream noted how the edges of his eyes lacked the normal crinkle of laughter. He noted how his entire body was coiled in tension, as if ready to fight or flee. He noted how Tommy’s hands were gripping his arms and Dream flinched. He leaned away and let out a nervous laugh, waving his hand around as he realized what he had said. He didn’t know whether it was even his place to apologize but he did so and—god, he might’ve made it worse now. He might’ve made everything seem insincere and like a joke and-

“I- look, you don’t have to take my apology and it’s—this isn’t to make me feel good or anything.” Dream muttered out nervously, his hands moving as he couldn’t find it in himself to stay still, “I just—I genuinely feel bad and-”

“Are you a pussy bitch who just keeps apologizing for shit?” Tommy snapped, raising an unamused eyebrow. 

Dream’s shoulders hiked up at the sudden outburst, his eyes wide as he looked at the teen, “I- what?”

“You’ve just rambled on and on about your apology.” Tommy drawled out as he leaned back. His lips twitched up into a small smile as he regarded Dream, relaxing just slightly to reveal amusement in his blue eyes. “Sounds like someone who’s used to apologies.”

Dream flushed, the heat rushing to his cheeks and ears as he spluttered helplessly, “I- no, I’m not—I don’t make a lot of mistakes!”

“Sure, big man.” Tommy snorted, shaking his head as he looked away. He felt a bit of heat rush to his ears as he remembered the apology. A small smile played on his face as he added, “Still doesn’t erase the fact you are good with apologies.”

Dream stopped for a moment, blinking, “Has—has no one apologized to you?”

“Eh, we never really...have the time.” Tommy waved off, staring out the window and at the way the sun shined down at Snowchester. “It’s more of a—just a simple ‘sorry’ then that’s it.”

“Oh…” Dream shifted in his spot as he licked his lips, “I just—if anything, I’m only so good at it because I do apologize… a lot.”

“What’s up with that, anyways.” Tommy turned back when he was sure his face wasn’t blazing red at the first sincere apology he ever got ever since L’manberg gained independence. 

“Oh, well, I’m kinda… well known by a lot of people in my world and some of them are pretty—they’re thorough.” Dream chuckled humorlessly, looking up at the ceiling as he remembered the many death threats sent to his DMs. “They—I just make a lot of mistakes in their eyes and some of them are right in their anger and—I apologize.”

“Well, they’re lucky to have you then.” Tommy muttered, pulling up his legs as he stared at Dream. He was a bit weirded out at the long winded and obviously sincere apology—especially coming from him. The Dream that he knew didn’t apologize. He took what he wanted without question and left no room for arguments (at least, that's what it looked liked). “So lucky to have someone realize their faults and… and apologize so sincerely.”

Dream’s mouth dried at the way Tommy’s voice lowered along with his eyes. He felt his chest tighten in sympathy, lips pursing in thought before saying fuck it in his head and hesitantly reached out. When he rested a hand on Tommy’s head and the teen didn’t flinch, staring down at the floor, Dream smiled at him, soft, “It’s fine if you can’t apologize like me. We all have our own way of apologizing. I just—I just got lucky at being good with words, I guess.” 

“You’re so fucking emotional, that’s what.” Tommy muttered and Dream let out a startled laugh.

“A lot of people say that about me.”

“They’re-”

“Hey!” Tubbo clapped his hands in between the two and Dream jumped away. He blinked at the two limbs before moving his attention to Tubbo’s bright smile and eyes, “So, I think we have a plan.”

Tommy snorted and stretched his legs out, “Very reassuring, this is why you should’ve dragged me along with you.”

“Shut up.” Tubbo beamed, playfully chopping a hand on Tommy’s head. Tommy snorted and rubbed at the spot that Tubbo hit as he muttered a few expletives. “Anyways! We’re not really sure if you are affected by the same logic as our world so we’re going to play it safe. That means no dying for you!”

Dream chuckled nervously as Tubbo pointed at him, “Wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Since you need protection, we found someone who could keep you safe from the… enemies you have here.” Ranboo explained.

Dream pouted as he crossed his arms, “Hey, I’m not porcelain glass. I used to play sports like football, I can hold my own.”

The three stared at him in confusion. Dream blushed and opened his mouth to wave it off but Tommy beat him to it, “You screamed at a zombie.”

His blush darkened and he waved his hands rather frantically in dismissal, “Yeah, well-! I’m… weak… against… horror.” Dream managed to say between chopped words, face aflame in embarrassment.

Tubbo snickered as his voice trailed off. He patted Dream’s head, earning an indignant pout from the man (Tubbo tried not to smile) before continuing with his explanation, “Anyways, we’ll have to bring you to Technoblade-”

“Why that fucker?!” Tommy jumped in suddenly, voice lacking any venom. “He hates my guts and yours, too!”

“But he doesn’t hate Dream.” Ranboo pointed out with crossed arms, “He’s his only ally that didn’t part on bad terms.”

Dream wondered slightly about the favor. How Technoblade waved him off when he asked for his help before being thrown into Pandora’s Vault. He knew that Technoblade did that because they both had their own future plans—he didn’t hold the man in contempt because it was planned. He can’t help but wonder how it went down in this world. If Technoblade really did forgo saving his counterpart out of malice or if it wasn’t intentional. If—perhaps or perchance—Technoblade really was busy in this world. He hoped so or else they’d just be walking into the most dangerous death trap out there. 

“Since we can’t exactly just send Dream out there alone, you and Ranboo are his escorts!” Tubbo declared with a clap of his hands, “Are we clear?”

“Yeah.” Ranboo nodded, “We are.”

“Definitely, very clear, big man.” Tommy rolled his eyes playfully.

“Great! We’ll prepare for the trip and you guys can leave tomorrow. Or the next day, depending on when we can gather enough materials for Dream.”

“I mean, I’m fine with going right now?” Dream offered with a tilt of his head, raising his hand a student in class.

“You’re wearing pajamas.” Tommy deadpanned, giving him a once-over and had the audacity to look even more disappointed. Dream’s face flushed and he groaned, shoving his face into his hands. Tommy and Tubbo exchange a glance before they burst out laughing while Ranboo snickered quietly to the side. The dirty-blonde man peeked between his fingers and glared weakly. It wasn’t long before the taller teen felt a bit bad for the man and tapped on his shoulder.

“I can let you stay in one of the rooms here while we prepare.” Ranboo suggested with a kind smile, “You can rest since it looked like you were about to go to sleep when you got here.”

“Right, thanks.” Dream looked up and smiled at the hybrid.

Tommy hummed as he drew his legs up to his chest, watching as Ranboo led Dream towards a room. He continued to stare at them in silence, considering. It was quiet for a moment before Tubbo patted his shoulders and he jumped, turning to his best friend. Tommy blinked before sighing internally. “Tubbo, what-”

“You okay, boss man?” Tubbo raised an eyebrow. The younger teen raised his eyebrows before shaking his head.

“Yeah, just…” Tommy made an unidentifiable sound as he waved his hand around. Tubbo nodded along to what he said as he patted his shoulder comfortingly. Tommy huffed and buried the lower half of his face into his arms as he watched Ranboo talk to Dream about the room. 

As the sun began to set to mark the third day since Dream's arrival, apparently, Tubbo and Ranboo set off to gather more materials in the mines while Tommy was left in the house as protection—in case someone visited Snowchester and ended up seeing Dream. When the moon rose to the sky, Tommy groaned on the couch. He leaned his head back and threw an arm over his eyes, his mind busy for once in his life as he thought back on the events of the past days. How Dream appeared in the ruins of L'manberg, his apology and the flurry of activity to prepare materials for Dream and their trip to the Arctic.

The entire house descended into silence, Michael (Tommy remembered how loud Dream screeched when he first saw the little zombie piglin and how loud he and Tubbo laughed before Ranboo picked Michael up to reassure a still screaming Dream) was put to sleep before Tubbo and Ranboo left, and Dream was probably sleeping in his room. 

Tommy sighed and stood up, moving to the door that led to Dream’s room and raised a hand to knock. He had thought about it—even more so after Dream’s apology. He thought about apologizing to the blonde for scaring the shit out of him when he first appeared. He didn’t...regret it or anything- the world taught him how to be cautious and paranoid (not like Wilbur—he would never be like Wilbur-) but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad. He could just remember the complete and utter fear in Dream’s eyes at the time—at the time he thought it was fake and played out by the blonde but now—he knew it was genuine fear. He had enough time (two days worth) to think about it and he's finally drawn up enough courage to try.

He sighed and dropped his hand down, leaning his head against the door. He didn’t want to admit it but he was scared to apologize. The last time he tried to do it—the last time he tried to apologize ended with an even bigger rift between him and the person he had hurt. He didn’t want a repeat of that. He didn’t want to ruin whatever he and this Dream had already. The man seemed genuinely nice—unlike most of the people he had met on this server. 

Tommy’s ears perked up and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a sniffle. His head snapped up, panic in his eyes, and immediately wondered if it was Michael. He turned on his heel, ready to bolt to his room, but stopped when the sniffle turned into sobs and—and it didn’t sound like it came from upstairs.  

Slowly and almost mechanically when his mind connected the dots for him, he turned back to the door before gently pressing his ear against the hardwood, careful to not make any noise. The sobbing came from inside the room as it grew in volume, just not loud enough to be heard by anyone else had they not pressed against the door like Tommy did. The boy swallowed thickly, his mouth drying as he realized what was happening-

Dream was crying.  

Tommy stepped back in shock, staring breathlessly at the door. How could—how could a man who lived in a perfect world- how could a man who was so kind and nice and sincere—cry? How could he cry, when the entire time, he looked fine and even cracked a few jokes here and there despite facing a sword—multiple times, even! How could he cry when he looked so strong and sure of himself and-

“You’re so fucking emotional, that’s what.” 

“A lot of people say that about me.”

Oh. 

Oh.

Was that what he meant? Was he really that...emotional? 

Tommy didn’t know how it felt to be in a world that was so different from what he knew. Notch—who knew what Dream was feeling right now, from the fact that Tommy threatened him to the point where he apologized. The man must be terrified out of his guts but put a strong front when faced with the three teens. He must be so confused and sad and-

And Tommy wanted to help. He wanted to reach out and help the man—help the one person who apologized to him even if he didn’t owe him or anyone an apology. He wanted to help the man who had soothed his wounds just a little bit and tell him it’s alright. He wanted to reach out, open the door and burst in. He wanted to hug him and tell him it’s going to be fine and how they’re going to be there with him every step of the way. 

He wanted to help. 

But he wasn’t the Tommy that Dream knew. He wasn’t the bright kid who smiled as easily as he laughed. He wasn’t—he wasn’t the bright eyed teen who was—who was a teen. He wasn’t the kind and sweet boy he saw in the video who easily laughed and joked with everyone (maybe he was—once upon a time—exactly like the Tommy in the video, before all the wars and the loss and the grief, but not anymore).

He didn’t know if Dream wanted the comfort. 

He didn’t know if Dream wanted the comfort from a broken teen. 

He didn’t know if Dream even wanted his presence and not the bright eyed teen that seemed to fit everyone’s mold of a little brother.

He leaned his head against the wood, slowly falling to his knees. His eyes watered a bit but he didn’t cry—he couldn’t cry. He refused to cry. Not like this when the person suffering was not him. Not when the person suffering was just beyond that door. Tommy let out a shaky breath as he clenched his hands into fists. Unbeknownst to him, Dream was leaning his back against the door as he stared into the ceiling, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he felt the tight hold of pain around his heart, sleeve-covered hands reaching up to cover his mouth as another pitiful sob broke free and muffled it (the feeling that he couldn’t go back to his friends, his family—the feeling that he was irrevocably alone in this world with familiar faces but not-so familiar hatred-). 

Tommy pressed his lips into a thin line as his shoulders shook. He wanted to help—he wanted so badly to help but he—he couldn’t. He couldn’t help as he was. He couldn’t be of help at all. He only made everything worse and-

-and he didn’t know how to be as sincere as this Dream. He didn’t know how to comfort a man when he hadn’t ever gotten comfort. He didn’t know how to reassure someone when he had only ever reassured himself. He didn’t know how to reach out to someone when no one reached out to him.  

Tommy didn’t know how to be selfless. 

Some kind of hero he was...

In the dark of the night, a whisper flowed through the air between two people. Two people who were separated by a whole universe. Two people who had a single wall in between them as they shared each other’s pain and anguish and tears. Two people who, in the dark of the night, bared their soul to each other unknowingly. 

A single whisper.

Two simple words that carried the weight of the world. 

“I’m sorry.”

And there was no response.

Chapter Text

Techno remembered the panic and fear that spread through everyone when they heard a loud scream and an even louder thud that echoed through some of the rooms in the mansion.

He, himself, had to kick his blankets off his body and stumble out the door, nearly tripping over his own feet when he practically had to run towards the door with socks on (a stupid bet from a certain homeless motherfucker in a certain game-). He heard the loud sounds from his left, and the only one sleeping in that room was Dream and after his brain registered George’s scream and Sapnap’s yell—at first, he was worried if Dream had eaten too much of those weird chocolates with alcohol inside because they all witnessed firsthand, literally on their first day reunited and celebrating in the mansion, how Dream could barely handle anything strong. And they did it again for a dumb game night because Dream was a competitive little shit.

Like, Jesus- who thought it was a good idea to drink alcohol with children around? Techno was sure a small portion of them never even had a drop of it.

But after his sleep-addled brain cleared up slightly—Dream’s best friends were in his room, voices laced with panic.

And joining everyone else who had woken up from the sudden ruckus—Techno could barely hold himself from openly gaping when seeing a—stranger unconscious on the floor, blood slowly spreading around him and Niki had to hastily grab Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo away from the scene before they could even take a peek.

He remembered his feet automatically dragging him inside the room, staring down at the man with long dirty blonde hair and orange clothes turned to his back once George and Sapnap snapped out of their stupor. He could barely hear anything else when seeing—Dream, cuts and scars all over his face, two very obvious ones over his nose and his right eye. 

He looked fucking awful, and honestly—Techno was positively livid. He wanted to know who did this, wanted to know who the fuck hurt their host, the man responsible for bringing everyone together in the first place, his rival and one of his closest friends-

But then Phil and Bad came forward, like the responsible adults they were, with Sam and Punz following behind them—and fucking god it’s worse than they thought. There was just- blood. Too much blood. Too many wounds and injuries that were barely hidden away by sloppily wrapped bandages soaked in red. Everything was a blur after that. He only snapped out of it after Wilbur shook him by the shoulder gently and only then did Techno realize he had dazed off, mind blank at what he had seen. 

They left the room to leave Phil and the others to tend to...Dream.

After that, everything went to chaos, to say the least.

Not wanting to worry anyone, especially their fans, if this piece of information went out without their notice (even calling an ambulance and calling the cops would raise questions; there could be stalker fans waiting outside right now), they decided to investigate themselves. While Phil and Bad were cleaning up the unconscious man (Sam went out to buy lots of first aid kits in panic but tried to compose himself), neither men telling the others anything of what’s happening, the rest made it their job to look around for anything amiss, something that slipped under their noses while slumbering peacefully right after a chaotic party for the third time not even in a week.

They tried to find clues, anything bad that had happened, maybe a scuffle if someone had replaced Dream with someone else (like that was hard to believe someone would kidnap anyone in the protected as fuck mansion—Dream was surprisingly overprotective when it came to everyone’s safety inside), but they came up with nothing other than the fact that the white hoodie printed with his brand, gray sweatpants, shoes, and even his phone was gone.

They tried locating it, especially with half of them being experienced in that sort of field, yet they came up with nothing. Calling his phone didn’t work, either, when it ended up sending them a pre-recorded message of Dream’s voice.

(It’s like he disappeared completely, but no one had the guts to say it out loud.)

Techno joined in as well, albeit a little...reluctant, because he still couldn’t believe what he saw. He knew he wasn’t the only one—hell, everyone was in the room with the exception of Niki and the minors, and a few left right after because they couldn’t...handle the sight (Punz, Puffy, Eret, Quackity, Fundy-). He couldn’t blame them, honestly. Just seeing some guy practically bleeding all over with Dream’s face (Dream, who brought them closer because of his server, Dream, who handled a lot worse shit with the hate and false accusations thrown at his face before he could prepare himself and had the damn audacity to smile, Dream, who was willing to use millions to rent a damn mansion and buy everyone’s tickets before they protested and argued that he didn’t have to do everything himself-)—yeah, that was too much to stomach. 

Felt like a fucking crime scene and Techno would always wonder if he was stil dreaming. If he was- it’s fucked up, it’s not funny at all, and this wasn’t a damn horror game or a movie. But he was there, he looked down, he saw everything and nothing, the scent of copper circulating in the air, and it’s real.

It had to be a nightmare.

Sapnap and George were the first to see Dream’s state before apparently falling unconscious at the sight of them—and it was clear they were affected the most. Everyone was concerned for the two, knowing full well how extremely close they were with Dream. And if the unconscious man was somehow Dream—well, suffice to say, they just wanted to barge into the room again and make sure their best friend, their brother, was doing alright. Demand and shake out answers from the man about what the hell happened to him.

Not that it was just those two—after nearly half a month of taking a break from all the roleplaying to gather in the mansion, everyone got closer to each other. And by extension—they got closer to Dream. It’s hard not to, after all, when he was the reason they hung out like a large group of friends (unlike other groups that had Techno question if they’re really friends—excuse him, he was being a little cocky). They all grew closer to the man in one way or another, especially when he openly revealed his face the moment they gathered around the mansion’s gates together, greeted to the sight of an unfamiliar man with dirty-blonde hair, kind green eyes, and an almost shy smile as he waved his hand at them. Sapnap was beside him but that was irrelevant.

On that day, Techno would not admit out loud that on everyone’s behalf—they were simping.

So imagine their horror and denial when, after nearly six hours of everyone lounging and pacing and fidgeting in the living room with the kids huddled in one corner distracting themselves from the tense atmosphere—Phil, Bad, and Sam had stepped out of the room that had been cleaned beforehand, and made the conclusion that the still-unconscious man was really Dream.

The whole mansion was loud with yells and shouts overlapping one another.

It took a while for the chaos to calm down and only did so when Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo were clearly disturbed, terrified, and in shock at the revelation—as did everyone, really, but the trio were more so less composed compared to the adults after being worried to death over the man they viewed as their older brother. They quietened down when it was clear they were stressing them out, too.

Everyone demanded, begged Phil what he meant by that—man being Dream. And to their utter disbelief, Bad was the one who hesitantly proposed the thought that yes, he was Dream.

Just not their Dream.

Surprisingly, it was Wilbur who stuttered out, with hope that he was wrong, that—what if that Dream wasn’t even the same person? Not the Dream they knew? A Dream from a different reality entirely?

Everyone was close to calling Wilbur delusional, like his character, which would hurt but Techno could understand where they were coming from (denial, shock, pushing back the horror that brewed in their chests because it wasn’t supposed to be possible-). However, Wilbur continued on, grim and determined, and explained that he was wearing prison clothes, dull orange and rugged and ripped with burn marks on the edges, and no doubt everyone could see the injuries, still fresh and bleeding, that no one except a fucking murderer was capable of doing on an innocent human being.

And Bad, hesitantly, added that there was a deep scar over his right eye, and when checking briefly after making sure the man wasn’t going to be waking up any time soon—Dream was half-blind. One eye was milky white with barely a hint of green, and the other had lost all life and color, dull and empty, even in sleep, no matter how peaceful he looked as he slumbered.

Tommy, their youngest who was sweet and kind and would most definitely follow Dream around like a little puppy whenever the others were busy—mentioned, in a daze, that the man’s character in the Dream SMP, the server they roleplay in, had taken their Dream’s place.

It was silent after that, just everyone lost in their own thoughts and refusal to believe it. This wasn’t—a fucking movie. Because if—if that Dream was really from, what, another world where their actions were real, then that implied too many things no one wanted to say, implied too many things that had happened to that Dream.

Of course, no one wanted to believe it. Who would want to believe that, anyway? It’s impossible. It sounded like a terrible prank and maybe Dream would wake up and tell them so before wheezing. 

Yet no one could deny what they had seen. That was Dream’s face, and his hair was longer. He was bleeding all over, soaking through his prison clothes and on the expensive carpet that had to be replaced when Niki, Bad, and Punz volunteered to clean any evidence of what could’ve looked like a murder in a crime scene. Even when they’d rather turn around and forget seeing anything.

Quackity was the first to leave the common room, walking outside to the backyard in the dead of night. No doubt because if that was really Dream from the Dream SMP—that meant all the torture he had planned with Dream, the lore they did for their characters, were real, and left the haunting feeling that he was the one who did all those things to Dream, someone he considered his friend.

Next was Sam, their resident soft, giant teddy bear who watched over everyone, who had dyed his hair green as a bet a few weeks back because of Dream, and was one of Dream’s oldest and closest friend. He was pale, pure horror etched on his face when recalling what he had done to Dream’s character, and shot out of his seat, storming out towards one of the bathrooms and locked himself for an hour straight. No one tried to get him out.

It was obvious to Techno that everyone was trying to process the real possibility. Everyone recalling what they had done to...to Dream’s counterpart. They shouldn’t believe it, but if it was all real and that was a different Dream completely…

It was safe to say no one had a wink of sleep after that, wishing to sleep to wake up from this dream, but nothing worked. Phil had to coax the kids to sleep, too, when the tension and stress was getting to them (they were all close to Dream, and knowing that this Dream was from a world where the Dream SMP was real-).

Techno… Techno was uneasy with guilt. But he was stubborn not to let his emotions cloud his actions or continue to mull over it when, the next day, he suggested that if there was one person that Dream could talk to and have everything explained to him—it would be Techno.

There was an immediate protest, all wanting to be the one to see Dream—but Phil was the one who silenced everyone and said that, if he remembered correctly, all their characters had something against Dream. Punz, who had been stone-faced the entire time, also reminded how nearly everyone in the room had watched Dream getting stripped of his armor and weapons, and had surrounded him at his weakest, watched him lose his second canon life, watched him die, before he was led to the Pandora’s Vault.

The realization wasn’t pretty.

Those who joined in opposing Dream that day, their characters not as close to Dream in the storyline but close outside of roleplay, stayed quiet, exchanging grim faces. Tommy was pale and staring at nothing. Tubbo had his back turned, not letting anyone see his face other than his trembling shoulders. Ranboo was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and lips pursed as he stared at the floor. Puffy buried her face in her hands, remembering how they agreed her character was canonically Dream’s mother figure and she was there to watch his fall. She practically disowned him and adopted Foolish right after. Quackity had isolated himself in the dining table, huddled in a blanket and didn’t seem to be responding to anything anyone would ask him of. Sam was unresponsive as well, staring outside the pool with the sun casting a warm light; no one knew what he was thinking. Punz had a better stone face than Techno ever had, a faint scowl on his face as he glared at the wall. Wilbur was biting on his fingernail, anxious and guilty considering he was the reason Dream was the villain in the first place. He had pushed him into becoming the villain when he never said anything before shit hit the fan.

But what concerned everyone was George and Sapnap. Because they knew what their characters did and said to Dream. They knew. They watched. They listened. In the SMP, the Dream Team had gone together through thick and thin, stuck like glue, with the idea of the Dream SMP being just a server meant for the Dream Team and, by extension, his friends to hang out in for fun. Before it blew up. Before it gained popularity for the plot. The characters they played. The storyline that grew and grew.

In the game, they cut ties with Dream completely.  

Their history, their relationship, their brotherhood—severed. Gone. Misunderstandings, miscommunication, deceit, distrust, and manipulation. George had felt betrayed and left to live his own life, in his own mushroom cottage, away from everyone and everything. Sapnap promised to kill Dream if he ever escaped prison, no matter what, and left with Karl and Quackity. Neither visited Dream in prison, and neither had interacted together in game, focused on their own lore, their own thing.

The Dream Team no longer existed in the Dream SMP.

And George and Sapnap were devastated.

Techno felt for them. If the unconscious man really was from a world where their roleplay was real, had consequences, everyone had suffered in one way or another—that meant Dream had been continuously tortured for four months straight and no one knew a single damn thing.

And the thought itself was almost too much for Techno to stomach himself.

But the only reason he volunteered to be there when Dream woke up was because...he was really the only ally the masked man had in the server. Not friends, not enemies, just...allies.

Funny. The thought itself hurt Techno just a little bit because he, too, grew close to the man. He could say he enjoyed being rivals with the very competitive man (ignore how Techno was just as competitive when push came to shove- what are you talking about-), especially when they were equal in skill. Plus, he got a lot of clout whenever he bickered with Dream whenever he entered the Discord call and even joined the server to meet up with him. A lot of the time, they just talked. For hours. Talked about whatever shit that came up to keep the conversation going, and honestly it’s rather endearing how much Dream stuttered and stammered when talking about something he was passionate about. He could literally hear him waving his hands as he talked, even though Techno couldn’t see.

And now, other than watching the others cause absolute chaos in the expensive as hell mansion and spending time with the SBI (it felt good to see them all in real life), he could just sit outside in the night with Dream while everyone else were asleep, by the pool, to either stare at the light reflecting the calm waters or engage a conversation to fill up the silence. It became a routine for them. They didn’t have to talk most of the time, just their company was enough.

Knowing that Dream’s counterpart was here instead, knowing that he didn’t have the same connection Dream had because he wasn’t even friends with the Blade in the Dream SMP-

Yeah, it kind of hurts. 

But Techno had to be composed. Even if he probably looked different (because he had a feeling that having pink hair and red eyes were canon...damn), he hoped his voice was somewhat familiar to the other Dream. Who knew what he went through, being tortured for months to no end. It’s hard to believe Dream was mentally stable after all that.

(Not when Quackity had previously showed him a list of what kind of torture Dream’s character had suffered under his hands but was never explicitly mentioned on a lore stream whatsoever with how—graphic yet vague they were, and right now? If their theories were true and this was Dream from another reality, Techno was going to spill the contents out of his stomach-)

He was right.

And it hurt Techno just a little bit more when Dream was staring at him with slight recognition and fear. Backed up against the nightstand like a frightened wild animal that desperately wanted to escape from the cage they were in.

And then—fuck it, it was fucking painful to watch the man breakdown in front of him when finally processing the fact that he was in an alternate world where his reality wasn’t even real (fake, an act, scripted and planned beforehand by the parties involved-). Techno just wanted to hug him, to reassure him that everything’s alright, that no one here would hate or hurt him—but he held himself back from spouting empty promises when he was just a stranger with a familiar voice to the half-blind man.

Techno wasn’t exactly wrong. They were technically strangers. Realistically. The only problem was—he knew what happened in the prison, he couldn’t break him out of it with his Dream in the game, and they were about to plan a lore of breaking the dirty-blonde out months after he had been thrown in prison. After he was tortured endlessly for information. Isolated. Starved. Throwing himself in the lava repeatedly. Who knew what other things he was doing to keep himself from going insane other than wait for Quackity to visit once again, or if Sam was in a bad mood.

God- fuck—it’s all real and Techno fucking hated it. He hated it so much. 

If it wasn’t obvious, even after admitting to the other Dream about what he had done and therefore mirrored what his own counterpart did—he felt like drowning in guilt. Even more so when Dream still hopelessly trusted him despite everything. He just didn’t want to go back to prison, and that’s all he wanted.

Techno exhaled through his nose in frustration, pulling his glasses off to massage his nose bridge. His ears perked up when hearing footsteps climbing up the stairs. Placing his glasses back on, he glanced up to see Sapnap walking towards him. 

When noticing he got his attention, Sapnap tried for a smile, lifting a hand up in greeting. “Hey…” he said in a hushed voice, his hood tugged over his head. He wondered if it was to hide the faint bags underneath his eyes in the dimly lit hallway.

Techno nodded in return, the younger man leaning on the opposite wall in front of him, “Sapnap.”

“How’s…” Sapnap cleared his throat when his voice cracked slightly, gaze lowered to the ground as he tucked his hands in his hoodie’s pocket (he was wearing Dream’s merch again). “How’s Dream? You know- how’s he doing?”

Techno shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing out a small sigh, “He’s havin’ an apology match with Tommy right now, huggin’ it out probably. I swear those two…” he trailed off fondly, huffing a brief chuckle when recalling what he heard while staying outside the room to give them space. 

Sapnap smiled, but it was sad and Techno felt his heart ache slightly for the young man. No doubt he just wanted to see Dream, too. “That’s… That’s good. Hope they clear the whole hero and villain thing they got going on.”

The brunette nodded curtly, lips twitching. “Same.”

Silence. Not awkward or uncomfortable, but just...not wanting to say anything to break it.

Techno let his eyes look over the other. He frowned, noticing the bags underneath his eyes, how he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all for the past few days since Dream had woken up. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t imagine what it’s like for—for Sapnap. To know that his actions in the game, in their story, actually had an effect in the other Dream’s life. Both him and George had created a scar, left a gaping hole, and didn’t bother repairing it because they had other lores to focus on than trying to visit Dream once. Sure, it’s different because outside of the Dream SMP, they were still close friends, Sapnap was even roommates with Dream before the latter thought of renting a mansion, and still spent time together when recording a Manhunt and stuff—but it had to hurt.

Knowing that the other Dream had lost his Sapnap and George. Knowing his counterpart had left Dream, his brother in all but blood, and even went as far as to threaten him, to take his last remaining canon life if he ever escaped.

Because it felt like Sapnap himself had done all those to Dream, even if it was just an act. Even if it wasn’t the same man right now.

That, Techno could relate. He still felt guilty. Felt like he had played a part in ruining Dream’s life further. While he didn’t do as worse as George and Sapnap since it was canon how he and Dream were simply allies—he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he felt partly responsible. For giving him more pain. For leaving him to his doom for the next three months.

Techno grimaced, licking his lips and opening his mouth, “I can… I can ask him if you’re allowed to visit, if you want. You and George, I mean. Or just you.”

Sapnap glanced up, surprised, before smiling and shaking his head gently. “No, it’s… it’s fine. After what you told us, I’m pretty sure Dream’s still...traumatized and—and stuff. My character sounds like a shitty friend, honestly. For not understanding and just… dancing away with his in-game fiances.” He chuckled, bitter and strained.

Techno wanted to open his mouth again, to reassure the raven that he didn’t do anything wrong whatsoever—but bit his tongue when it sounded incredibly hypocritical of him. He did the same, after all. 

But Sapnap wasn’t done- “Did you know Dream cries every night after making sure everyone went to bed?” he said rather offhandedly, gaze averted as he stared at his shoes, tapping on the floor.

Bewildered blinked behind rectangular glasses, regarding the younger man in slight confusion. “I would ask how you know that and wonder if you’ve been stalkin’ him but that might be hypocritical of me to say.”

Sapnap grinned, a little sad but he tried, “Our rooms are beside Dream’s room. I’d be surprised if you didn’t hear it, either.”

He shrugged one shoulder, relaxing against the wall before sighing, tugging his glasses away and absently wiped it clean with his white undershirt, “And why bring this up…?” he trailed off, making a vague hand motion. Sapnap blinked before clearing his throat, rubbing the back of his neck rather nervously.

”…Like Tommy, and everyone else really—I…” he paused, swallowing, and finished quietly, softly, and if it wasn’t for the empty hallway, Techno wouldn’t have heard it, “I want to see him. I’m just afraid I might make things worse, you know? And George—George doesn’t even want to try and see him. It’s complicated-“ 

Sapnap groaned quietly, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration and exhaustion. Techno frowned, tilting his head to glance at the closed door where Dream and Tommy were. He sighed, sliding his glasses back on before crossing his arms, “I think I can find a way to get you two to talk. No, listen.” He raised a hand before the Texan could protest, “The best and fastest way to get Dream to feel comfortable around everyone, without being too persistent, because only god knows how long he’s goin’ to stay—is to tackle the biggest problems first. Sorry to call you and George a problem, but the three of you did have the worst fallout out of everyone in the lore. Even Tommy and Tubbo could talk. Don’t even get me started on Sam and Quackity. They’re practically ready to flee from the damn mansion for fuck’s sake.”

Sapnap pursed his lips, shifting a little uncomfortably but soon nodded slowly. He frowned, “You’re right. We can’t make any progress like this. But—is it a good idea for me to-“ he gestured vaguely, “-talk to him first? I literally promised my character was gonna kill him if he ever escaped prison. If I was Dream- I’d run the hell out of here!”

”Which is why you’re goin’ first.” Techno stated in a voice no one could refute, even Sapnap’s words died in his tongue and huffed petulantly (he still stayed quiet to listen anyway), “You’re playin’ therapist.”

The younger sputtered, “How does one even play therapist to a different version of their best friend?! And maybe I remind you my character, again, is trying to kill his former best friend!”

”How the hell am I supposed to know?” Techno retorted back, scowling without any heat, “I didn’t know we’re tryin’ to actively help Dream’s counterpart but look at me now! It’s hard not to bundle him up until he accepts the help he clearly needs! It’s messed up and confusin’ as fuck but what else can we do? Just leave him outside the sidewalk before realizing Dream’s not actually comin’ back since we inadvertently killed another version of himself and who knows if we ruin the universe for doin’ that?”

Sapnap chuckled dryly, shaking his head, “In retrospect, this is really fucked up. More fucked up if…” his smile faltered slightly, “…if Clay is actually somewhere else, in another world where everyone wants to kill him.” Techno ignored the way his chest clenched at the very thought, uneasy, “You know, it does make me wonder what’s the point of doing all this. Not that I don’t want to help and hug Dream tightly and never let go—but… What if it ends up being pointless? If he returns to his world—then what? Will our progress reset because he might end up in the prison cell again? It’s not like we’re fixing his relationships. We’re hardly mending anything other than feeling like shit because we feel responsible for how he end up in one way or another.”

Techno hated to admit the other had a point. “Let’s just be hopeful, Sapnap.”

”For what?”

“That our Dream’s tryin’ to fix his counterpart’s relationships. Preferably not in prison or anywhere near Sam and Quackity’s counterparts. Not sure how he’s gonna do it but Dream’s persuasive when he wants to be. He’ll find a way.”

Hopefully. Or else Techno’s going to bring the Floridian man back here himself, kill him, bring him back to life, and let everyone else do the same if he ever died in another world instead of old age.

Sapnap made a face, worry flashing in his eyes, “I can’t even imagine if all the Minecraft logic even works or applies to him at all, Techno. The thought of a diamond sword or a netherite axe is already scary to think about in real life instead of a fucking game.”

”He’ll survive.” Techno waved it off dismissively, although even he was just as worried. Of course, he tried not to show it. “Unless this is a prank and Dream’s fuckin’ with us and it’s not even remotely close to bein’ funny. We’re makin’ this Dream go out and see the sun whether he wants it or not. He’s pale as a fuckin’ ghost and needs his vitamin D.”

”With or without his consent?” 

Techno gave him a look, deadpanning, “Okay- you don’t have to make it sound so bad. We’re all gonna play therapist, Sapnap. And makin’ sure Dream doesn’t throw up the food he ate is painful to watch. No matter how tasty it is- he can barely keep down a small glass of soup. Gettin’ him to eat meat is gonna be a struggle for all of us once he’s not hauled up in the bedroom anymore.”

”You have a good point…”

Techno always had a point, but instead, he said nothing in return. And Sapnap said nothing as well, lost in his own thoughts on what to do next while Techno began to make plans on how to get him and Dream to interact without accidentally pushing the dirty-blonde into a panic attack (he wasn’t oblivious to the way Dream had very faint bags underneath his red and swollen eyes that couldn’t be seen unless one was inches away from his face-). Wouldn’t be the first time he indirectly caused the admin distress, it just so happen that Dream had a disturbingly good skill at deflecting his issues. Repeatedly.

But Sapnap was right. What was the point of doing all this helping and trying to talk Dream out of his problems? They weren’t even certain whether their Dream was in another world where his server was real, or if he would even try to actually play a therapist towards everyone’s counterparts because his life was literally at risk just by existing as another version of the big bad villain who was imprisoned. 

Why were they trying to help this Dream? Was it even going to be of any use once he went back to his own world? Everyone still might hate him and that could just break him entirely. Left behind and betrayed, thrown way to rot all alone, and then suddenly waking up to another world where enemies were still friends and family. Where the wars and conflicts didn’t exist. Where everyone still cared for him.

And then he got sent back, and the little moment of freedom, of calmness, of a peace of mind without the constant fear of getting tortured and killed, the interactions he could’ve had—was all taken away from him to face his reality once again. He made bonds with people that weren’t the people he knew and they were going to look at him like a stranger whenever he was reminded of a time he used to get along with another version of that SMP member. Like a small and fleeting Dream where he could smile and relax.

What’s the point when all their persistence with helping the man would be gone in a blink of an eye?

The answer wasn’t that hard, if anyone asked Techno.

Because they all felt responsible whether it was another reality or not. Everyone did. Seeing this Dream, all broken and tired and hopeful and resigned- Techno didn’t care, and no doubt the others would agree with him. They didn’t care if helping the man was pointless. Techno would know because even he couldn’t help himself from being a shoulder Dream could lean on and cry. He didn’t like seeing him…defeated. Self-deprecating. Just hating his own existence because he repeatedly convince himself it’s all his fault for making everything worse when he didn’t have to pick violence.

It’s just that no one said anything, because that would be the final nail in the coffin. No one wanted to say it out loud, because they couldn’t deny the new reality they had to face. 

That they broke this Dream.

And they weren’t sure what to do to fix him.

The expected four day trip to gather materials was cut short when the trio realized that Dream’s stick of a figure couldn’t handle the weight of armor. They ignored how the expectation stemmed from the fact that their Dream wore armor like it was nothing—always seen with the pieces on his body despite its weight. Everyone else always had the time to take off their armor to relax but Dream was always seen with his armor. It cut their preparation time in half as they realized that Dream couldn’t carry anything but a shield. 

“What do you mean open my-” Dream spluttered, shaking his head incredulously. Tommy ignored how the man’s eyes were rimmed with red which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to drop it when glancing over at him. “My what?”

“Your inventory.” Tubbo explained slowly, as if speaking to a child (Dream was not a child, he knew exactly what they were talking about—he just didn’t understand what they were doing!). “You know, this.”

And Dream watched as Tubbo waved his hand over nothing. He let out a sound of confusion as he turned to Tommy and Ranboo for help, “What?”

“Oh, come on- it’s not that hard, Dream.” Tommy snorted, moving forward and bringing up his—inventory, apparently.

Dream blinked and stared at absolutely nothing. 

“Why don’t we step back a bit…” Ranboo chuckled, seeing Dream’s blank stare. “Maybe he—he doesn’t have one?”

“What?” Tommy turned to Ranboo with a raised eyebrow. His hand swiped against thin air and Dream was still confused about what was happening. “You think-”

“It isn’t impossible.” Tubbo muttered, cutting Tommy off and causing the blonde to turn and face him. “We had debated whether or not he was affected by our life system as well. We can’t exactly test it or else he’d just…die.”

There was a somber silence before Dream broke it when he cleared his throat. The three turned to him and he smiled nervously, “Uh, maybe I’ll understand better if you… if you explain what you’re trying to show me?”

Tommy dragged a hand down his face but responded after a sigh, “It’s our inventory. We have slots where we can store our items and stuff so we don’t carry it around with us.”

“Wait, you have-” Dream cut himself off in shock, staring at the three, “How does it work?”

“We just summon it, basically.” Ranboo shrugged, as if he was just talking about the weather. “It’s like, second nature. We can easily navigate through it to the point that we don’t have to think.”

Like in the game, Dream thought dazedly. He blinked as he gathered his bearings once more, tilting his head and he tried to do what the three had done. When nothing came up, he let out a frustrated huff, “It can’t—I can’t see anything. Are you supposed to see each other’s inventory?”

“Somewhat, yeah.” Tubbo nodded before sighing, turning to the other two teens with his arms crossed over his chest. “So, the inventory thing doesn’t work for him and he can’t carry the armor for shit.”

“What can he carry?” Ranboo squinted as he took in Dream’s frame. They looked similar at first glance—lanky and a bit small in some parts—but Ranboo was stronger from days of training and practice. He’d have to be strong to stay alive on the server. And he was way taller than Dream.

“Uh, what can I bring?” Dream offered with a smile, hand scratching his cheek. 

“A sword.”

“An axe.”

“A shield.” 

There were three different answers from the three teens. Dream snorted softly as he watched Tubbo and Tommy turn and stare at Ranboo. The stare wasn’t long enough to make the enderman hybrid (and god knows what his other half was—not even Ranboo would tell him during their little talks about plot) nervous but enough to make him realize he said something weird. 

“What?” Ranboo blinked, looking at the two with a small frown. 

“We all know Dream works better with an axe?” Tommy waved his hand around to prove his point, “He never uses anything else—except his crossbow but we don’t talk about that!”

“Yeah, but a sword is lighter.” Tubbo added with a matter-of-factly tone in his voice, tilting his head to the side. “It could protect him and it’s a basic weapon, he’ll know how to use it. He even mentioned there was this thing called…fencing in his world.”

“Yeah, but, they’re all heavier than a shield.” Ranboo argued back. “Aside from his crossbow and axe, Dream always used a shield.”

“Yeah, but he needs to protect himself and he can’t carry a weapon and a shield.” Tommy argued back with a hint of mocking, no malice but mostly just a little annoyed.

“Maybe we should ask what Dream wants.” Tubbo suggested, turning to Dream who blinked in surprise. He had expected the conversation to go much longer considering the three of them made valid points. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. 

He shifted on his spot under their gazes, “Uh, maybe I should try them out myself?”

“Sure!” Tubbo nodded and moved away, rummaging through a chest for the objects. 

While he did that, Tommy turned to Ranboo and took in the other teen’s build. Ranboo raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry while Tommy smirked. He turned back to Dream and grabbed his arm, tugging him close, “You need a change of clothes.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t know where my counterpart’s base is?” Dream asked with a tilted head. Even he didn’t know where it was. He had made multiple little alcoves for his chests but he was unsure which was used as a home. He didn’t want to drag Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo into a useless hunt only to come up with nothing. Plus, he was pretty much hopeless with navigating the damn world that’s not made out of blocks through a screen he could easily remember like the back of his hand by a pixelated map. “How are we-”

“You and Ranboo have… eh, somewhat the same build.” Tommy shrugged, waving his hand towards the taller hybrid. “He can lend some clothes for the journey!” 

“I think I have some warmer clothes here.” Ranboo nodded, “Most of them are in my home in the Arctic so we can grab those when we get there.” 

“Great, it’s settled.” Tommy grinned, “Now go, shoo. Grab the clothes or whatever.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes and left the two in the living room. Dream hummed and smiled at Tommy, reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully, “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckled softly, eyes warm and amused with the sudden change of attitude from the normally aggressive teen. Not that he was complaining (because it hurt knowing how much he adored Tommy in his world-).

Tommy looked at Dream and...and he felt the need to protect. He had the need to keep him safe and unharmed. He didn’t want to see the blonde uncomfortable in any way. Whatever happened to him last night took a toll on him, his eyes rimmed red and a little swollen, and Tommy wanted to alleviate some of his burdens—if only a little bit. He couldn’t imagine having Dream be a figurehead in his life—someone positive that he could cling to and be assured. If he couldn’t imagine having that Dream, he was sure his counterpart couldn’t imagine being without him. 

He placed a smile on his face, something easy and light, “I’m fine, bossman. It’s the jitters, y’know?”

Dream chuckled and patted his head, “Well, calm down a bit, hm? I’m sure I’ll be fine with you and Ranboo with me.”

Tommy flushed under the praise and let out a laugh, waving his hand around, “Of course! You’re with the big man Innit! Of course you’re going to be safe with me!”

“Sure, whatever you say, big man.” Tubbo chirped in as he dropped the items on the table. Dream could see the shine of a diamond sword and an iron axe underneath the shield that was sprawled on top of it. “So, try ‘em out?”

Dream nodded and hesitantly hovered a hand over the weapons. These items looked so real—it baffled him. They had little details that never appeared when Dream used them in-game (he never liked added texture packs so this was new). Like the curved way the axe seemed to take shape—detailing how it was an axe made for fighting and battles and not just for measly woodwork. It even had a bit of cloth wrapped around it’s hilt, same with the sword, to cater to the owner’s grip. The sword looked newly sharpened and it glowed a bit with enchantments. The shield didn’t have any design at the front and so Dream noted the many chips and scratches the wood had.

He reached out and carefully gripped the sword’s handle, adjusting his grip every now and again. He pulled it from the table and let out a small ‘woah’ at how surprisingly light it was. He balanced it with both his hands and swung it around to test its weight. He blushed when Tubbo and Tommy let out surprised shouts and stepped away from the sharp blade that swung towards their general direction.

“Okay- maybe giving him something that can poke him and other people in a deadly manner is a bad idea.” Tubbo hurriedly rushed out with a laugh, “You don’t—you don’t know how to use that, do you?”

Dream let out a nervous laugh, slowly putting the sword down, “No.” He played video games for a living. Like hell was he skilled enough to use a damn sword.

“Then it’d be more dangerous if you had that,” Tommy laughed nervously and grabbed the sword easily, as if it weighed nothing, and disappeared. “Maybe leave the weapons to us huh, big man?”

Dream watched as Tubbo grabbed the axe and it also disappeared in his grip. He snorted and nodded at the two, “Alright, so the shield?”

“Yeah, stick with the shield, big man.” Tommy nodded hurriedly, grinning as he gestured at the large wooden object. “You’re going to need it.”

“Right.” Dream nodded and took one end of the shield with his hand. He picked it up (Ranboo was right that it was lighter than the sword) and turned it over. At the back, he could see two leather straps that were attached to the shield. He let out a confused sound as he picked at the straps. He had seen people in movies use these kinds of shields but he didn’t really know how to put it on. “Uh-”

“So, I could only find this cloak that he can wear over his own.” Ranboo interrupted, walking into the room with a black hooded cloak in his hands. “It’ll keep most of the cold out of the way before I can grab some actual winter clothes from my house in the Arctic.”

Dream blinked and took the cloak in his hands. Had it been green, it would’ve matched with whatever fanart his fans made of his character. There were just a few of them who drew him with cloaks as most drew him in a hoodie—considering the reactions of the three teens, he’d safely assumed the hoodie part was right when the artists drew his counterpart. He put it on, clasping the ends of the cloak together and watching as it draped over him and touched the floor a bit due to their differing heights.

He smiled up at Ranboo and nodded his head, “Thanks.”

“Here, I’ll help you with the shield!” Tubbo grinned, grabbing the shield and bouncing over to his side. Dream chuckled and pushed the cloak to his back, extending his left arm for Tubbo to maneuver the shield easily. 

When the shield was strapped on (a bit tightly) onto his arm, he watched idly as Tubbo, Tommy and Ranboo burst into discussion and movement. Each one of them was doing something related to the trip. Tubbo was grabbing more supplies for them to use while Tommy busied himself with checking the chests and his inventory. Ranboo, on the other hand, was busy looking through his weapons and tightening his own cloak around himself. It wasn’t long before the three found themselves on the doorstep, ready to depart for the Arctic and into Technoblade’s domain. After some discussion, they decided not to pass through the Nether, not knowing how it will affect Dream in the long run. So they had geared themselves up for a long walk through the Overworld. 

Before they left, Tubbo grabbed Dream’s arms and looked at him with deep blue eyes. He searched his face for anything and Dream blinked, looking back down at the shorter teen. Tubbo smiled a bit before pulling him into a bone crushing hug that forced Dream to move his shield arm away so the teen could hug him easily. He chuckled and patted his head fondly, hugging him back. 

“Take care and don’t die...” Tubbo whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his cloak. “Don’t… don’t leave.”

Dream swallowed when he heard the way Tubbo’s voice broke off in the end. How he sounded—hopeless and... and desperate. It was like he was trying so desperately to keep water cupped between his hands—trying so hard to count the many granules of sand presented to him before time ran out. It was as if he had already lost someone (and he did- he lost an older brother who fixed his home, who helped him with his farm, who would paddle a boat on land just to make him laugh) and he didn’t know if he could lose another. Dream let out a shaky breath, realizing that he was a second chance for Tubbo. A chance to be happy—a second rising of the sun after it sets. 

He ran a hand through Tubbo’s hair, assuring him of his presence. Dream smiled sadly when the teen tightened the hug a little bit. He didn’t know what Tubbo had planned for his story—his backstory but Dream knew he had interacted with the youth a little too much for it to not have any lasting effects in this world. While it served to bring him and the Tubbo he knew closer, it must’ve hurt even more when Tubbo had to separate from his Dream. 

“I won’t...” Dream assured him in a whisper, “I’ll stay alive and you’ll see me again. I just gotta stay safe from, you know. Getting killed.”

Tubbo pressed his face closer to his chest one last time before he pulled away, smiling brightly at him. Smiling wide enough that his eyes crinkled at the edges and almost hid the way his eyes shined with tears. He stepped away and dropped the conversation, fast enough that Dream couldn’t comment on his teary eyes. He waved at them as they departed, shouting after them as if he wished more than his voice carried through the winds and went along with them.

“Don’t die!”

“He’ll be safe, big man!” Tommy called back, grinning.

“Yeah! Trust us!”

“Like anyone would trust you.” Tommy snorted, side-eyeing Ranboo pettily. Ranboo responded with a very mature eye roll and sticking out his tongue. 

Dream snickered and shook his head at the two. Then, they dissolved into comfortable silence, walking through the less inhabited places of the SMP as they tried to avoid any mishaps of meeting anyone that wasn’t on good terms with Dream. While they walked, Dream dove into his memories while Ranboo and Tommy busied themselves with conversation. He tried to remember the little things everyone spoke about their character—the tiny details that made them happy and smile. 

He tried to remember them in lieu of delving back into his dark and sorrow filled mindset of never returning back home. He had already done his share of crying the night before and he didn’t wish to make his appearance look worse by breaking down again. The teens were trying their best for him already and he didn’t—he didn’t want to bring them down by crying and being fragile. Weak and useless. He didn’t want to be too much of a burden than he already was. 

Dream sighed, looking straight ahead as he followed the two teens, gripping his cloak a little tighter.

They continued to walk in relative silence, each one of them occupied by their own thoughts during the walk. Tommy busied himself with killing any animal that was nearby for food. Ranboo, on the other hand, fiddled nervously with his book—noting some things down every now and again. Dream was stuck in between the two, hefting the shield on his arm as he walked.

It wasn’t long before they were halfway to the tundra when night fell. They set up camp with the few materials that Tommy had while Dream sat down by the light—avoiding all the monsters. 

When they finally settled down for the night, Tommy waved them off and dropped down on the bed and slept first, soft snores filling the otherwise silent air with the fire cackling in the center. Dream blinked at the unconscious teen before turning to Ranboo who shifted nervously on his seat. He could tell the other was still a bit uncomfortable around him. It wasn’t hard to guess, not when he knew the lore that his Ranboo planned out for his character. A part of him felt bad for the teen, having so many issues piled on top of one another. First, he had memory problems and didn’t even know what his other half was. Next, he had some trauma type response to smiley faces and—and considering what Dream was wearing, he was surprised the teen wasn’t a panicked mess yet. 

He shifted closer to the teen, fiddling with the edges of the cloak he was given to use. He pressed his lips into a thin line before he pressed his hands flat to the ground. He turned to Ranboo and made sure not to meet his eyes, “Uh… Ranboo.”

“Yeah?” Ranboo asked, tilting his head as he gave him his attention (and god did he love the kid for that—ever since he got here, Ranboo only ever helped him out even if he was suspicious or nervous around him).  

“I just-” Dream cringed, feeling a bit of his courage leave him. He soldiered on and steeled his resolve, there was no use backing out now that he had the teen’s attention, “Look, I want to—I want to apologize to you.”

“For what?” Ranboo blinked, looking surprised as he leaned a bit away from Dream. It was as if Ranboo expected something else from the apology. That thought made Dream’s chest tighten in sympathy. These kids lived in a world where every word could be used against or for them. They lived in a world where apologies meant a person needed something from them—it meant that they were useful for a little while longer.

“For… uhh, everything.” Dream gestured around lamely. He bit his bottom lip and dropped his hand back to the ground, pushing the heel of his palm into the dirt. “I know I realistically and logically didn’t do anything to you, but-”

“You feel responsible?” Ranboo cut in, his voice taking on a somber mood. 

Dream startled and looked at Ranboo in the eyes. It lasted for a quick second before Dream looked away, scared he might make the teen uncomfortable. He pressed his lips into a thin line, there was no doubt that Ranboo knew that feeling better than most. With his gaps in memory and his mysterious second half that caused problems here and there—Ranboo must feel the same way Dream did. 

They both understood that they had no control over what happened—they knew they weren’t at fault from a logical standpoint but they couldn’t help but feel responsible for everything that was done.

“I do.” Dream nodded—the admittance plain and simple. “I feel responsible because I’m the villain. The monster that all of you suffered at the hands of.” He didn’t mention how they feared and hated him. They still did, even after knowing he wasn’t the same Dream.

“You just share his face and name.” Ranboo argued back, a frown etched on his face as he gazed at Dream’s troubled one. “You didn't—you didn’t do anything he did.”

“But I did.” Dream whispered and Ranboo jerked back in shock and disbelief. “I—In my world, it was supposed to be just a story—a little game me and my friends played that blew up and gained popularity. We were just having fun, not thinking about the consequences at all—that maybe there was a whole other world out there where everything we did was real.”

Ranboo stayed quiet and Dream felt sick to his stomach—again. Why did they have to be quiet and let him ramble his apology? It made him overthink—it made him feel as if he was overstepping his boundaries. He breathed in deeply and opened his mouth to continue with his ramble when he noticed Ranboo had raised his hand to stop him. The words died on his throat, snuffed out like a fire in the rain. He looked at Ranboo with wide eyes as he gave back a muted, almost hesitant, smile. 

“It’s fine, Dream.” Ranboo let out, his voice low and a whisper but to Dream it was like a loud scream. The silence around them did not help matters at all and Dream shifted in his spot. “You didn’t do any of those things, right?”

“But I roleplayed-”

“You acted it out with your friends.” Ranboo conceded, waving off whatever Dream was about to say as an argument. “You had their full consent, right? You didn’t actually hurt them, right?”

“I—no, I didn’t.” Dream swallowed thickly, looking down at his dirtied hands (he couldn’t help but imagine the dirt as blood—what if he had done those things…he’d never forgive himself, he knew that-). “I even ask them and check in on them after a particularly heavy lore stream if they’re okay. I didn’t want to accidentally trigger them or anything and I know method acting can be—it can be a bit taxing to one’s mental health.”

Ranboo brushed off the unfamiliar terms and smiled encouragingly at Dream, “That alone makes you so much more different than our Dream. It shows that you care—so much. You don’t have to apologize for something you didn’t do.”

“Then you shouldn’t either.” Dream blurted out, his cheeks flushing a light red at his words. He waved his hands around when Ranboo sent him a long confused yet contemplative look. “I- that is to say, Ranboo- uh, well, your counterpart tells me a lot about his plans and how your—your story is going to go. I help him but he mostly does a lot of the planning so—so while I don’t have the full story, I don’t know your other half if that’s what you’re wondering, but I do know about your struggles and—I’ll stop talking now.”

Dream clamped his mouth shut, ducking his head down as he flushed. The heat had risen to his cheeks when he realized that he spoke about Ranboo’s life and struggles were all a story. He felt so bad for the teen now, speaking to someone who went from apologizing to calling his life as a mere play—like a movie that was meant to be viewed and planned and written and-

Dream jumped when a hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up at Ranboo’s soft smile, “It’s fine, Dream. I- thank you anyways for telling me that, too.” 

Dream mustered up a smile, slow and hesitant as he patted Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder, “Anytime. You’re a good kid, Ranboo.”

When Ranboo smiled, Dream felt like his world lit up and he beamed right back. That night, the two slept a bit easier and as the sun rose to the sky, the two teens escorting Dream began to feel closer to the otherworldly and strange man. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he wore the face of the villain that tormented them all. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he had the same voice as the monster that haunted their nightmares. Suddenly, he was more than just that and the two found themselves caring a little too much for their little guest. 

It was ridiculous, but they couldn’t help themselves.

The next day saw them a little closer to the tundra, white snow blanketing the floor that they walked through. The chill in the air made Dream bundle even more in the cloak and huddle closer to the two teens (both who were very willing to huddle close to the man that was so kind and warm to them as well—not that they were going to ever admit it, Tommy especially-).

A cold wind brushed past the three and pushed Dream’s hood down from his head. He huffed, feeling his hair collect a few of the falling flakes of snow as he tugged at the cloak’s hood. Looking over, Tommy snorted and reached out, ready to playfully pull the hood over his head again when the three heard a loud shout behind them, slightly muffled from the sound of the snowy wind howling against their ears.

Dream startled, turning around to the noise out of habit. And almost immediately- his eyes were blown wide and his hair and face for everyone’s viewing pleasure (he knew the teens had warned him about his face—how everyone knew how he looked in this world after unmasking him before the entire server and it was dangerous for people to recognize him). He felt Tommy tug on his arm warningly as the other two turned around as well, startled by the shout.

All three of their eyes met bright, flaming orange ones. 

Dream felt his entire center of gravity shift, stumbling back as he was met with such a familiar face. His emerald eyes traced the other’s face, from his eyes to his nose to his mouth to his jawline. From his orange eyes (when did they become orange? They were brown—almost amber in their world) and charcoal black hair that was pulled into twin buns. How his outfit was covered by the hard and glinting metal of netherite that glowed with dangerous enchantments. He could feel Tommy’s tight grip on his arm as his breathing turned shallow and quickened at the sight of his best friend. His brother.  

It quickened even more when the surprise, the regret, the pain turned into anger. Hot, searing anger that spread throughout his face—eyebrows knitted together in a sharp frown and lips pulled back into a snarl. His heart hammered against his ribs when he saw Sapnap grab an axe out of thin air, the blade shining with it’s sharp edge of netherite and glowing enchantments.

”Dream.”

He let out a gasp when Tommy tugged at him sharply, almost dragging him back. He ripped his gaze away from Sapnap and turned to see alarm and surprise in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy let out a strangled sound before tugging Dream back even more, standing in front of the dirty blonde man with his shield and sword at the ready. Ranboo was also holding his sword, eyeing Sapnap with wariness and caution.

Dream yelped when Tommy hurried shoved him down, eyes wide with fear as Sapnap started sprinting towards them. The two teens kept themselves in front of Dream, their blades drawn and shields raised as they got ready to defend the blonde man. 

Sapnap raised his axe high, eyes glinting with the intent to kill, as he raced towards the two. Dream felt a flash of fear and his chest tightened, his mind coming up with an image of the sharp edge digging deep into Tommy or Ranboo’s body. He had already put so much on the teen’s shoulders—now he’s going to expect them to risk their lives (lives that he endangered because of the stupid script and drama-) for him in turn. He knew Sapnap was strong—he was a good PvPer in his world, in the game, and there’s no doubt that the Sapnap of this world was a good and dangerous fighter as well. If he used to side with Dream then he must’ve been strong—stronger than these two.

Without thinking, Dream shoved both of the teens aside and brought his shield arm up. He ignored Tommy’s screamed curses as he was shoved to the side and Ranboo’s surprised shout as his long limbs messed up his coordination for a bit. Dream braced himself for the hit-

-the wood splintering was Dream’s only warning before pain shot from his arm up to his shoulder—it shocked him to the point he cried out loudly in pain. He gritted his teeth and glared at Sapnap, pushing his arm forward in a way to shake Sapnap off him for a quick second, and it worked, if only briefly, as the raven stumbled back.

“Tommy, Ranboo—run!” he hissed out through gritted teeth. 

Tommy and Ranboo looked at him incredulously, as if he was the one who was crazy. Dream let out a yell as he pushed Sapnap off of him, staggering to stand up and straighten himself. He shook out his arm while Sapnap started to run at him again with another angry yell. Tommy snapped to attention almost immediately, pushing himself up as he scrambled to stop Sapnap. 

“Wait—fuck! Sapnap you bitch! Fuck off!” Tommy screamed, swinging his sword down against Sapnap’s axe and causing it to dig into the ground instead of against Dream’s raised shield. The teen didn’t know what the fuck Dream was thinking jumping in like that! “Fucking—STOP, STOP IT, LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“Get the fuck away, Tommy!” Sapnap screamed back, eyes alight with anger as he focused on Dream. He raised his axe and sparks flew as their blades met. He pushed Tommy away and watched as the kid stumbled back, turning his attention back to Dream. “I promised I’d kill him if he escaped prison!”

“No, fuck you! Fucking—Ranboo, HELP ME!” Tommy screeched when Sapnap stalked towards Dream who was still recovering from the blow on his shield.

Ranboo startled at his sudden shout but moved forward either way, his sword ready to defend against Sapnap’s hurried and angered strikes. It wasn’t long before he was thrown away by the shield Sapnap used—hitting him square in the chest and leaving him on the ground to catch his breath. Ranboo wheezed slightly, gritting his teeth in pain and surprise.

Dream cursed as he looked between the teens and Sapnap. They were fighting against Sapnap for him—protecting him because he was useless and weak. He could feel his blood pumping through his veins, his head throbbing as he pushed himself to run away from the two teens, grabbing their attention. He needed to take Sapnap away from the two teens and distract him enough. His sudden movements to run away from the fighting three caused Sapnap to shove the two aside and chase after him—his priorities shining through. He swung his blade and chased after Dream, determination and anger in his steps and burning eyes. 

Dream stumbled a bit in the snow, unused to running with barriers and in the cold to boot. He hadn’t ever tried to run injured either. He could feel his shield arm scream at him in pain and he hissed, hurriedly and messily taking the shield off to transfer it to his other arm (it was sloppy and hurriedly done—his frustration grew when he realized the strap was on too tight-). His left hand was numb and his fingers slipped and trembled as he pulled against the shield straps as it tightened against his other and healthier arm. It wasn't as good as when Tubbo had done it but he could work with this. It’s not like he was planning on getting hit either—the shield was more of a defense and safety net for him. 

He could hear Sapnap just at his heels, the axe ready and poised to strike him down at any time. He could hear the panting breaths of his best friend as he was chased down—how they always ended sounding like a snarl or a growl.

Dream gritted his teeth as the snow slowed him down slightly, the cold making his already numb arm hang uselessly. He could hear Tommy and Ranboo try to hold back and stop Sapnap but he knew the other was powerful (he could tell and of course his character wouldn’t ally himself with someone weak—as much as it pained him to think of it that way). It was useless and the two would get hurt. 

Tommy could get hurt and he was on his last life-

Dream closed his eyes, taking a sharp left—skidding to the side to get a better look at the three. He let out a startled shout when the axe blade glanced just right in front of his face and slammed into the earth in front of him, the tip digging down into the ground and snow. Dream shook himself out of his stupor, adrenaline pumping through his veins more than his own blood. It was a last ditch effort but anything to get Tommy and Ranboo away from Sapnap and danger. He backed away from Sapnap and turned, running straight towards the two teens. 

“Tommy, Ranboo!” Dream screamed, unintentionally using his lore voice. In his moment of distraction when Sapnap got a little too close, he wasn’t able to notice how the two teens stiffened at his voice—nor did he notice how Sapnap got angrier and faster. “Get to Techno’s house! He can help!”

“But-”

Dream sped up a bit when Sapnap got a little too close, snarling out a loud- “Now!”

That was enough for the two to snap out of their shock (or fear—he wasn’t sure) and they began running towards the direction they were headed. Dream let out a harsh breath of relief now that he was sure the teens were safe (though he doubted letting Tommy meet Technoblade was safer than fighting Sapnap but he believed in both the teens and Techno to come to an agreement without any more fighting). He just hoped he could last long enough for the two to come back with reinforcements. If—if not, then-

Dream shook his head at the thought. There’s no need dwelling on what if’s. 

He turned back to check on Sapnap but then screamed wordlessly in shock when Sapnap’s hair burst into flames alongside with his blade—looking a little too demonic for Dream’s liking. He sped up as fear clutched his heart tightly and his limbs and skin grew colder and paler by the second. Sapnap let out a scream in rage as he continued to chase after him, the flames licking at Dream’s feet and the edges of his cloak as it flowed in the wind. His body trembled and shook as he ran, the shield being his only defense against Sapnap but even then—would it even be enough against the blade that was obviously lit with flames? 

Well, he was fucked. 

He shoved those thoughts aside as he stalled for time, hoping to any god out there that Tommy and Ranboo understood what he wanted and ran off to get Technoblade. He could feel his legs starting to ache and screaming at him in pain, the cold of the snow nipping at his sneakered shoes and ankles. He hissed at the pain, rolling his left shoulder as he tried to chase away the pain while Sapnap chased him.  

Sapnap wasn’t even talking. He was consumed completely by his anger—the scorching flames a testament to that fact. Somehow, Dream running away from him instead of facing him made him angrier as he let out another strangled yell. He swung his axe around the air, slicing at nothing as his eyes were aflame with anger and determination and regret and-

Dream could feel himself slowing down. He hated to admit it but he wasn’t that fit. He might have participated in sports in his youth but ever since he started Youtube—he stopped working out that much. He had stopped working out and Dream hates himself for it because now it was a life and death situation and he couldn’t help but stumble and trip on his own feet. The only thing keeping him upright was the fact he had adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dodged and weaved against Sapnap’s hits. 

Breathing was like inhaling hot gas—burning his lungs and throat as the pain spread out to his chest and shoulders. Dream hated how the edges of his vision started to blur—black spots appearing and disappearing as he continued to run. His fingers twitched as his legs and knees started to become jelly, unable to support his weight as he continued to run and run and run through the thick snow. 

He panted and yelped when he finally tripped (he had expected this to happen somewhere during the chase and he dreaded every moment of it but fuck-) and he stretched out his hands to soften his fall. When he fell, he fell hard and he didn’t know if he could stand up again. His arms were cut up and numb from the fall and his chest felt heavy and cold. He scrambled a bit further away, feeling the burning heat of Sapnap’s presence behind him. He swore and he turned on his back, pathetically kicking himself away from Sapnap as he raised his axe, the sharp blade glinting as it was poised to slice through the flesh of his chest and dig straight into his ribs and heart—

Dream hated how useless and pathetic and weak he felt at that moment. He hated how—as he looked at the glinting and fiery blade that would decide his fate—he looked up and met Sapnap’s eyes. He could see the complete anguish and pain and hesitation as he prepared the killing blow. Dream just let out a tired puff of air before he closed his eyes, leaning his head back in resignation. 

He was done.

He was down.

He was dead.

The only thing that he regrets, the last thing he thought as he braced himself from the pain of the killing blow—was that he couldn’t apologize. He didn’t even care if he wouldn’t respawn after this—if that mechanic of the world even worked for him. 

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tear sliding down his ice-cold cheek and-

-instead of a killing blow, instead of feeling the blade slice through his body—he heard how metal met metal in a resounding screech that resonated around him, louder than the blood that pumped in his ears.

Dream shakily and weakly opened his eyes to see a beautiful light blue cloak that flapped against the breeze, covering him and the snow in a comforting hug. He saw the bright pink and braided hair that flowed alongside the cloak—connecting to a pink head that usually donned a beautiful glinting crown made of gold and jewels that wasn't there. He could see from the corner of his eyes how the item laid half buried on the snow to his right. The tall figure blocked him from seeing Sapnap as a tanned face, no doubt from many days under the sun, glanced back at him with a smirk.

He was shocked dumb as he whispers only one name that could ever belong to a man like that-

“Techno?”

The man (was he even a man? What happened to that iconic pig skin?) barely looked at him, keeping his narrowed gaze trained on Sapnap before pushing his blade further and drove the angered blaze-hybrid with ease, not even remotely close to looking as if he was struggling. 

Techno returned his gaze over his shoulder, his lazy smirk turning teasing as his blood-red eyes flitted back at Dream’s fallen form on the ground with amusement. “Imagine bein’ saved instead of fightin’ back. You that rusty, Dream?”

Dream let out a puff of breath, not realizing he was holding it in, his chest relaxing alongside his limbs and muscles and—his eyes rolled back-

And darkness took over him.

Chapter Text

“What did I say about givin’ our damn bedridden patient sugar that could potentially fuck up his stomach and recovery, huh?”

Dream internally cringed, shifting on the floor as Techno gave both him and Tommy a stern stare, his voice practically dripping with disapproval. He was standing by the doorframe, arms folded over his chest and he swore he looked so disappointed like Dream had been back in the day whenever his former team caused havoc and bullshittery that gave him a headache and drove him up the damn wall. Tommy was sitting beside him on the carpet floor, pointedly avoiding the brunette’s gaze and rubbed his arm sheepishly.

Another day had passed, and, like Techno had said beforehand—Tommy pretty much glued himself to the older blonde’s side. It was only because of Techno constantly reminding the teen of Dream’s current physical (and possibly mental-) state that he hadn’t tried to actually keep his arms, and perhaps his legs, too, wrapped around the admin for the whole day. Dream would’ve been a little endeared by it if he wasn’t so intimidated that Tommy was actually serious about ‘giving Dream all the hugs in the damn fucking world’ and it’s only because his entire body was wrapped in bandages with wounds and injuries that had yet to heal he restrained himself from doing so.

Tommy…sure was a persistent kid. Quite determined, too.

After an hour or two of apologizing yesterday, they settled down and simply enjoyed each other’s presence. It was embarrassing for Dream to admit how much he…liked the hug? He wasn’t sure, it was different from the few times Techno had hugged him (literally only one time, the fuck was he talking about, and the other day wasn’t even close to hug—Dream was just trying to comfort a…sort of new friend?) but it was just as warm and nice so no one was really going to hear him complaining. And if he tightened his hug just a little bit when Tommy snuggled closer until he was partly laying on top of his chest with no care for his shoes on the bed—well, no one had to know.

Techno had knocked on the door, a fond and knowing smile on his face while Dream exploded red and sent him a glare in return, all the while Tommy seemed to be more than content cuddling against him until he passed out. 

He was grateful it didn’t…trigger his other reflexes. Considering spontaneous touches were a big no in his book—Ender forbid how he’d react to it. Definitely not normally. He wasn’t foolish enough to let himself think he was safe from the aftermath of torture. He most definitely did not like touch at all, and he was probably pretending to be okay with it, but he wondered if he wasn’t as subtle as he thought when neither Techno and Tommy would touch him with enough pressure to feel threatening (to feel as if it was Quackity adding that pressure but instead of a gentle hand giving him a pat on the back it’s the blunt end of a sword, digging into his bruised sides until Dream felt like his breath was taken from him and wheezed in agony when the pressure was too much-). It must be why his body and mind had yet to react so violently, even more so when Tommy would wrap his arms around him with so much care it made Dream forget he was being touched in the first place.

Rather pathetic, if anyone asked Dream. When did he become so weak? 

Nothing much after that other than Techno and Tommy (mostly Tommy) explaining more things about the internet and their world in detail. Or at least, as best as the boy could explain with the occasional stutter and lisp from rambling on and on too fast. Techno would pipe in to replace some words into bigger words—which Tommy didn’t appreciate whatsoever and therefore started yet another bickering match while Dream tried his best to muffle his raspy and quiet laughter behind his hand, watching them trying to one up the other. But obviously, Techno wasn’t really trying. And if there were some occasions he allowed Tommy to win as they both smiled at him with varying degrees of fondness, Dream wasn’t going to snitch.

Tommy knew a few minutes later, unsurprisingly, and proceeded to yell and complain while Techno wondered when this had become his life (he tried to show how much he doted on Tommy and this was what he got in return? Blasphemy, the admin remembered Techno grumbling to him quietly afterwards as Tommy rambled about yet another topic of more video games). Dream almost pitied him. 

Keyword was almost.

It was the most entertainment he ever had and he didn’t regret not defending the boy against his alternate rival. Trying not to wheeze had proved to be a challenge considering he laughed easy—and because laughing too much was going to cause his body more pain and with no faster way of healing when gapples and potions were nonexistent, he really didn’t have a choice in the matter but to swallow down his mirth until he choked.

It happened a few times, actually, and it didn’t work—Techno was immediately there beside him to rub and pat his back in barely concealed worry and Tommy would already be freaking out. 

Dream was starting to have a hard time denying how much he really liked their concern for him. How they were so willing to help him if he even breathed wrong (and he hoped to Ender that wasn’t going to happen when Tommy was around—not that Techno seeing him at his weakest was any better-) and-

And Dream wondered how long this was going to last.

It was inevitable for him to have doubts. Not even inevitable—it was going to happen anyway. Waking up to a not-so perfect world but with a perfect version of the people he had invited to his own server… Barely five days had passed, and Dream wondered when the feeling of jealousy and guilt would eat him alive.

He shouldn’t be here, he knew that, and he also knew this was going to be a reoccurring thought the longer he stayed in his counterpart’s place.

Dream flickered his eyes up, biting his tongue to refrain from openly frowning in case Techno noticed (without his mask, he was too open and vulnerable and he didn’t want to put misplaced worry on the brunette or anyone else-).  

He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the so-called villain of his own server for nothing. He didn’t build his reputation, his behavior, his mask, and his role from ground zero for nothing. 

Dream was getting attached. He felt fondness for Techno to compensate for that empty feeling of yearning to have that kind of friendship with his rival back in his world, someone to spar and bicker even if it left him fuming because he lost another verbal fight. It was only a day and he didn’t want to see this Tommy sad, this Tommy who reminded him of simpler times in the SMP, when he used to see him laugh so bright, filled with life without the world being weighed on his shoulders, and be able to laugh with him. He was a little…fond of his counterpart as well, and had no doubt he was going to continue to feel the same to the others, no matter how much he didn’t want to see anyone else (didn’t want to see Sam and Quackity or George and Sapnap-).  

He wondered how long until he was going to snap. 

Because he could barely carry enough guilt in his own world. What would happen if he had to feel it here, too? He was already feeling it. And he was afraid he might do something he was going to regret-

“You’re thinkin’ too hard.”

Dream yelped, hands shooting up to cover the abused spot on his forehead that had been flicked. He blinked rapidly, eyes finding Techno’s almost exasperated gaze and flushed slightly at being caught lost in his thoughts. “Did you have to do that,” he scowled faintly, bewildered and a little indignant for getting flicked like a child.

Techno merely shrugged, settling back on the bed with his arms supporting him behind, “I’ve noticed for a while, actually.” He cocked his head, eyes half-lidded with a critical glint in them. Dream resisted the urge to shrink back at the stare (human nerd Techno could be intimidating when he wanted to be-). “You kept on driftin’ in and out of our conversations, Dream. Even after I sent Tommy down to hang out with the rest of the brats. I was thinkin’ of scoldin’ you for not refusin’ the chocolates Tommy won’t stop sneakin’  in since he came knockin’ on the door—but you look troubled. No, don’t try to lie your way out of this,” he quickly raised a hand before Dream could utter a word of protest, raising a seemingly unimpressed brow that had the blonde click his jaw shut. “I can literally see it written on your face. That, and I can kinda read our Dream just as easily and there isn’t that much of a difference when it comes to the two of you thinkin’ about things a little too hard. Or overthinkin’ things, really.”

“This is why I wear a mask…” Dream grumbled with a faint scowl, folding his arms and huffing (he was being a little petulant, but come on!). “Okay, fine,” he sighed, losing his brief irate to cast a hesitant glance at the other, inwardly wincing when Techno’s expression already turned to worry real fast yet waited for him to explain. 

“Uhh… I’m just…” he swallowed nervously, mentally berating himself for being anxious. There’s nothing to hide when he was going to go back to his world soon—he wasn’t sure when but whatever he told them wouldn’t change anything in his world (they’re going to forget it anyway, and Dream would have to move on and face his reality again-). “Is there even a point of helping me?” he decided to settle with that, or else he was going to ramble like an idiot again.

Techno blinked, clearly taken aback, “What?” confusion and surprise colored his voice, furrowing his brows at his words.

“I know you think that, too.” Dream murmured quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he not-so discreetly averted his gaze, “I just didn’t want to bring it up. It’s…been bothering me because we both know nothing is going to come out of it, right? I…” he sighed again, suddenly feeling heavy, “I don’t know, Technoblade. I feel like helping me is just a waste of time-“

“Don’t.”

Dream flinched at the single word that felt like a sword cutting through his own, shoulders hunching in surprise and apprehension as he stared wide-eyed at the spectacle-wearing man. To his surprise, Techno was glaring at him, not—not for him and he immediately wondered if he had said something wrong (he wasn’t angry with him, was he? He didn’t mean to, he was just trying to help-). “Techno, I-“

“Don’t-” Techno paused, taking a deep breath, taking his glasses off and heaved a sigh filled with… shit, he didn’t know what he was thinking right now. The brunette met his eyes, and Dream nearly flinched again at how…how upset he looked- “Don’t say that. Don’t say you're a waste of time, Dream. I know what you’re tryin’ to say and—fuck, you’re not wrong.” He groaned, rubbing his face with a hand as he, too, seemed to be avoiding Dream’s gaze. 

The said admin twitched, instinctively reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder but stopped himself at the last second, clenching his hand and instead laced his fingers atop his lap. “Then…” he hesitated, now wondering if he wanted to know what Techno thought about all this. “Then why? I know you and Tommy won’t be the only people I’ll see. But is it even necessary? I could be sent back home in a day, a week, and maybe in a few hours. In a blink of an eye, it’s like I’ve never been here in the first place, you know?”

Techno scoffed, “You think I don’t know that?” he remarked with a hint of bitterness, immediately regretting it when Dream tensed up at his tone and lowered his voice. “Listen- you may be right. Everythin’ we do for you is practically pointless when you’ll be sent back. You don’t have an impact in our world when you’re not the same Dream who was born here. And our impact on you will only make things worse. You’re not…wrong.”

Dream pursed his lips, forcing himself to relax his posture and waited for Techno to gather his bearings together before he continued. He was getting anxious the longer the conversation dragged on. Not because he was looking for a fight or something—never, he’d rather throw himself into lava than ever get into a fight with this Techno. There was no reason to (and if they ever did, it’s most definitely his fault-).

He just—didn’t want to be hopeful. That being here, taking his counterpart’s place, meant something. That he could get what he had longed to have for a long time (that people cared, that they should’ve been more persistent and reached out to him before he sunk further and further into molding himself as the perfect villain in their eyes, that their counterparts could treat and somehow understand him better than his friends could ever do-). He didn’t belong here and he didn’t want a reason to grasp onto that traitorous part of his head whispering sweet words that he should accept the help. To welcome their kindness and warmth.

But then Techno sighed, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling, a hint of a smile on his face. “If you ask me, I don’t particularly care.” He shrugged when Dream sent him a puzzled stare, “For one thing- I’m glad you’re—you know, not in prison anymore. Even if it’s temporary, better here than there, right?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

“And yeah, we all know helpin’ you won’t do you any good once you go back to your world but—we still want to help.” Techno said softly, a lazy and fond smile in place. Dream’s face went warm, looking down to fiddle with his hands (he’s still unused to…well, anything that’s not hostile directed at him). “It sounds bad sayin’ it this way but consider this as your vacation, or somethin’. Even if it’s…uhh, temporary. And it sounds like you’re only takin’ a breather before shit hits the fan again.”

Dream stared, “You’re not…wrong. This sounds worse than a nightmare because I am living in a dream that I’ll wake up eventually and face my reality again.” He agreed easily, snorting when the older gave him a look, “But yeah- you’re not wrong. There’s nothing I can do here—stuck, really. Doing nothing is going to waste everyone’s time when you’re anxiously waiting for your Dream and I’m going to have to leave this room one day and…and face everyone.” He shrugged one shoulder helplessly, his smile a little strained but he tried. “Possibly tomorrow, and even hours later. Honestly I’ll feel bad for basically being a freeloader. I don’t know how your world actually works with different rules and stuff. Can’t risk, uh, ruining your universe or something, even worse if your-” he made quotation gestures, “-fans find out your Dream went missing.”

At this point, Dream should stop expecting things to come and go until it was time for him to go. It’s not like he was going to refuse their hospitality and welcoming arms not because he had no choice—but because he desperately wanted to feel…like himself. He was tired of constantly keeping his guard up even when he knew nothing relatively bad was going to happen to him—physically at least. There had to be a reason why he switched worlds with his counterpart (he was beginning to have an inkling DreamXD had something to do with it- the god was the one who made sure the server stayed alive, he’d have notice where the main admin had gone off to), and while it had him practically pulling his hair out in frustration of why and how, it wasn’t going to lead anywhere if he continued to wonder about his bizarre situation.

And it definitely wasn’t going to be good for the others in the mansion feeling obligated to help him just because their Dream SMP was a world created for fun and for content. Dream could take a good guess they felt partly responsible for his downfall. He hadn’t met anyone but Techno and Tommy but he could see it in their eyes, in the way they held themselves around him and avoided aggravating and startling him in any way possible. Not because he was made of delicate glass, but because…

Well- he was just a more fucked up version of their friend and they didn’t know how to deal with him in fear of hurting or triggering him. It’s considerate of them, really, because he did not want to leave the room and try to see Quackity’s counterpart. Sure, he had already watched a few videos of the younger and could barely contain his incredulity of how—different he was to the same man engaged to his two fiances, but he could tell he was a great actor when push came to shove.

Funny. This world’s Quackity was a complete jokester, someone who loved making people laugh and smile and even pulled both Dream and Techno into his ideas with great results.

But then his Quackity, while he was and could still be all that sans roping him and Techno—he used his acting skills for something else entirely, with more…questionable intentions and goals. He couldn’t find it in himself to call him evil like him, a villain, when he’d only been punishing the said villain of the server. Torture was fucked up, Dream could say that and he’d rather not let anyone experience it ever again—but it’s not like he had allies to help him when he needed them the most. 

He was left to suffer all alone, and Quackity took full advantage of his complete isolation.

Maybe that’s why Dream nearly slammed the laptop shut after hearing him laugh hysterically (he laughed just like that when digging the shears into his thighs, twisting and pushing until blood gushed all over the obsidian floors and Dream thrashed helplessly at the indescribable pain that took a hold of his body until he just wished he died faster-).

Dream knew he just—couldn’t face any of them, not even his…his best friends. He knew, he knew no one was capable of hurting or using him. That uncertainty should be pointed at him, not the weaker, fragile versions of the members of the SMP. He knew but…

The human brain sure worked wonders. The fear that gripped him every time he remembered the day he was defenseless and the many, many days of being useless wasn’t going to go away just because the alternate versions of everyone were better and kinder people who could barely hurt a fly.

He knew their faces. And he only associated them with rage and hate of his existence. The only emotions he saw at best, the faces that haunted his nightmares at worst. He needed more time to collect himself and separate them from their counterparts.

The nightmares he kept on getting after watching hours and videos of everyone in the mansion were quite telling. His mind sure was nice enough to replace all their bright smiles and warm laughter to something else (something darker, something sinister, something to hurt him-).  

Techno hummed, giving him a thoughtful look, “None of us will oppose you if you’re not ready to see everyone else. Not even everyone—could just be one by one.”

Dream made a face, “Are you saying they’re willing to- what, go into hiding so they don’t-“

“Overwhelm you? Yes.” Techno finished for him with a small nod, making a vague gesture with a hesitant smile, making Dream still at the way his posture seemed to drop into something akin to wistfulness. “And I’ll be honest, Dream- we haven’t moved on that our…our friend is not with us at the moment. So I’ll speak for everyone that they’re more than eager to help you in any way possible even if this is somethin’ that’s way out of our expertise, and that it’s logically pointless when you’ll return.”

“Oh.” Was all Dream could say, rather dumbly because he didn’t-

He forgot to consider how everyone in the mansion was taking in on the fact that one of their good friends, the person who brought them together in the first place, was not even on earth anymore. He should’ve known that he wasn’t the only one struggling with this sudden switch of worlds. Neither him and the…IRL SMP (as Techno carelessly called themselves as with no regard for better titles) were strangers, that’s true, mostly at face value—but their history together? Their bonds and friendships? That was all gone the moment Dream took over his counterpart’s place. 

He couldn’t…imagine what they were feeling. Maybe he could to a certain degree (he missed the peaceful times, he missed his friends, he missed his Dream Team-) but they all felt the same for their Dream. They were good friends, all of them, and grew closer within this mansion. And even if he had the same face, the same voice—he could never replace his counterpart, nor could they replace the same people in his SMP even if the majority opposed him. No matter how nice and different they were.

They weren’t his people, and he wasn’t their Dream. Regardless of familiar faces, they were strangers in the end. And while Dream would be more than happy to flee from ever seeing them, he was starting to think it hurt a lot more on seeing someone with their friend’s face expressing obvious fear instead of warmth. Like a stranger was looking at them.

So maybe he wasn’t the only one who barely adapted to the change. The only difference was, they still wanted to help him regardless. Either to fill the void in their chest his counterpart was missing, or because they felt guilty and responsible for how he turned out.

All in all… Fuck.

They were just really good people with their hearts worn on their sleeve for him right now. A tentative yet hopeful attempt at welcoming him to their circle regardless of how much it might hurt knowing he was a fucked up version of their friend and wasn’t able to treat him the same way with familiar camaraderie. And he didn’t want to hurt them without meaning to (because he sure had the experience for it-).  

Dream gritted his teeth, turning his head away and clenched the fabric covering his thighs, “‘m sorry…” he murmured weakly, “I’ve been…mulling over myself that I forgot you guys-“

“It’s fine, Dream.” Techno cut in a little sharply but when stealing a quick glance over him, the brunette was smiling, albeit a little strained. “Compared to us, you have it worse with…bein’ tortured and stuff. There’s obviously more to it and much worse things we could ever think of. Betrayal, lies, deceit, manipulation, illegal trading, blackmail, violence, abuse of power…” he shrugged, smiling wryly. 

“Yeah. Compared to us, you need a goddamn therapist.”

Dream’s response to that was grabbing a pillow and burying his face on it to muffle a long-suffering groan. Techno wasn’t wrong but he should also consider himself and everyone else. Loss was still a loss, and they lost Dream, even if their loss was just temporary (and he hoped to Notch that he was going to go back to his own world-).  

And like nether did Dream deserve to get a therapist. He swore the longer he stayed here the more soft he got. He was going to be weak as fuck when he got back, guard down and a little forgiving. These people were just soft in general and he was getting influenced whether he wanted it or not (he’s not sure if he wanted to complain).  

He heard a snort at his reaction, feeling a hand patting his back and gave himself a mental pat on the back for not flinching and huddling against the wall in a blink of an eye. Dream reluctantly peeked up from the pillow, watching Techno stand up and stretch his arms in the air with a deep sigh before catching his eyes, “I’ll get us some food. It’s way past lunchtime and I don’t want Bad and maybe Phil after my head.” He made a show of shuddering, clearly exaggerated, “I like where it is, honestly. Between my shoulders. Attached to my neck. On my body.”

Dream couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped him, cuddling back to the pillow but rested his chin on top of it to observe the older. “You gonna bring Tommy with you?”

“Think he’ll miss havin’ lunch with you?” Techno scoffed good-naturedly, giving Dream one more pat before making his way to the door. He hung back, holding the doorknob and looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, “Want anythin’?”

The blonde shook his head, his shoulder-length hair tickling his neck in the process and pondered if it’d be weird to ask for a hair tie (he could always cut it… if he didn’t always see shears-). “I think everyone knows I can only stomach soup. As much as I appreciate how you guys would cook or order anything for me—I don’t think I’ll be capable of eating a normal meal any time soon.” He flashed him a sheepish and guilty look, “Sorry about that. Just—don’t waste money on me.”

Techno rolled his eyes but he was smiling, “Reminder that we’re all rich. We’re practically millionaires combined.”

“You use a piece of paper and some scrap minerals as money.” Dream deadpanned, “At least we know how much our ores are worth. Emeralds especially. And we can have them endlessly if we want to. Actually, they don’t really matter as much depending on the server and whether they use currency, so—unlike all of you. Guess this is a downside of technology taking over the entire world, huh.” He stated blandly, earning a sharp and equally amused from the other.

“Yeah. Our world is hopeless and full of shit. But we live in it anyway.” The way Techno said it was full of sarcasm and dismissal, but no one could unsee the hint of exasperated fondness in his eyes.

Dream softened slightly, burying his face in the pillow to hide his expression and sighed loudly (if only he could say the same and feel the same fondness to his own server-). “Get your bedridden guest food, you asshole. I’m starving.”

Techno rolled his eyes again but said nothing other than scoffing with a smile, closing the door behind him and left Dream alone in the room once again with his thoughts as company.

Hearing the older’s footsteps getting further away, Dream lifted his head up, bringing his knees to his chest and pressed the pillow in-between. He glanced at the window, his left vision tracing the little dust particles floating about within the sunray entering the room and giving the place a warm glow. He hummed, taking a glance at the door before mentally shrugging it off—Techno wouldn’t mind if he walked around the room, no matter how much he (and Tommy) fretted over him and his injuries that were still healing at a leisure pace.

Pulling the covers off, Dream gripped onto the nightstand beside the bed as support just in case he might fall over. He winced, biting his lip when uncomfortable spikes pricked all over his legs but he was nothing but determined. He balanced himself, wiggling his toes slightly on the fluffy carpet as he allowed his legs to build their strength back and get used to the sudden weight of supporting his body. When he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, Dream moved his hand to the wall and started taking small steps, hissing when each step not only hurt his legs and feet, but also his upper body for the stretch and tension.

When he reached the windows, he sighed, vaguely feeling a hint of deja vu the first time he woke up in this room and this world, and bent over to rest his elbows on the window sill, resting his cheek on his hand. Dream decided to let his brain shut down while waiting for Techno and Tommy to take in the sight of the mansion’s backyard, his eyes widening when realizing they were way high up, like on a hill or something. He blinked, noticing a beach on the left and what seemed to be the city on the right. It was way past the mansion’s protective walls so he barely saw a thing, but it was just enough to give the admin a…rather peaceful and beautiful view.

A melancholy smile appeared without his permission yet did nothing to stop it, letting his gaze linger a little longer (the large pool below around two stories, a couple of trees and plants and more greens surrounded the place with wooden floors and rocky terrain that looked more like decoration to add how well-made the exterior of the mansion was-) before eventually closing his eyes and took deep and calming breaths, basking in the sun’s warmth as the sounds of birds chirping and accompanied the silence and occasional gusts of wind.

He missed his world. His server. His home.

He missed interacting with the animals and mobs, hostile or not. He missed being surrounded by nature and letting his world welcome his presence, showing their admin its appreciation by letting the wind caress his cheek and have harmless mobs flock him and nudge him for pets. He missed flying on trees and lying on the grass of an open field surrounded by flowers. He missed exploring caves and cheering upon finding ores he needed. He missed the rush of adrenaline and thrill of navigating through the Nether, trading for resources or taking his time to gather more netherite and ingredients for potions. 

He just…missed. A lot of things.

He missed being free. To have no worries in the world as if he wasn’t branded the biggest threat of his own home. To explore the rest of his world over and over again as he greeted the villagers or whitelisted guests as he passed by. To have no reason to hide and laugh freely, running ahead as George and Sapnap complained and tried to catch up to him-

Dream’s thoughts stuttered, eyes snapping open. He slowly raised himself up, eyes lowering to stare at nothing. His lips trembled, oh, Ender, George and Sapnap…

He missed them. Fuck- he missed them so much. 

It wasn’t the first time he recalled their brighter days, their happier memories. Even in prison, in the middle of being mutilated—his thoughts always drifted back to them no matter what. If he had any regrets that might as well have ruined his entire life, it was George and Sapnap. It was the way he distanced himself from them in an attempt to keep them safe the moment he knew the people backing them up were slowly drifting away, looking the other way and changing to place their brief loyalty elsewhere. They no longer followed Dream, and that meant they weren’t going to follow George and Sapnap, to protect them when he couldn’t.

He wondered if he should’ve talked to them instead. They never had problems talking about their insecurities and their safety. Dream was always there for them, a shoulder to lean on and listen to everything they said. He would let George hold his hand, smiling fondly as George stuttered with a flushed face to confess what’s been bothering him because he always had a hard time being open to his own feelings, reluctant to confide in anyone. He would let Sapnap tackle him down to a hug, spilling his fears and anxieties while Dream held him protectively, whispering comforting nothings and running nimble fingers in his ebony locks until the youngest fell asleep.

And Dream would go to George, sit down beside him and rest his head on his shoulder to take a breather as the older leaned his head on top of his in silent support, watching the sunset together with no words needed to be exchanged. Dream would go to Sapnap to unwind, to brawl with him on the dirt and wheeze when Sapnap whined at him for being too skilled and therefore unfair matchmaking. George would eventually get between them and whack the back of their heads for getting caked with dirt and mud before forcing them to clean up, but Dream would double over and bust a lung when Sapnap suddenly threw the shortest of their trio over his shoulder and dump him in the nearest body of water without hesitation.

Communication had never been a problem for them.

Until Dream ruined everything. He always ruined everything. He ruined everything the moment his rules were broken by the very people who he invited, and as he gradually lost his mind at their disobedience and trifled with his world like they had the right to fuck it up and own it, he sought for control, control them until they stood still and listened and fucking stopped-

Because of his paranoia of his best friends, his fucking brothers, being used against him—Dream turned to violence instead of telling them that he was scared for their safety, that he wasn’t sure he could protect them or be there when they needed him the most. 

Dream turned to lying to hide his fears and convince them over and over that everyone should fear their status in the land, their role, and ignored the hesitancy in George and Sapnap’s eyes before they stayed quiet, nodding, following orders instead of following him. 

Dream turned to manipulation to orchestrate the people and let them think what they wished about him instead of trying to convince and placate their fears, move their attention to him instead of his brothers, until he forgot he should be convincing them first before it was too late. 

Dream turned to power and abused it over everyone’s lives and threatened to take their attachments from them, to take what’s precious to them and hang it over their heads until they gave him what he wanted, listened to every. Single. Word. He. Said. 

Instead of relying on others, relying on George and Sapnap that they had his back, that they wouldn’t hesitate to show why they deserved to stand beside him and not behind him. Why their trust on each other was the strongest in the entire server.

Perhaps that’s why when they fell apart, they fell hard and left nothing to pick up the pieces to put them back together. Dream broke them apart, he broke their promises and trust and their brotherhood and they lost their patience. They cut their ties with him, their history with him, until they were nothing but mere strangers who happened to have a past that looked more like an illusion than memories.

He wondered whose fault that was?

Dream straightened abruptly, wiping his face with his sleeves before any tears could fall before taking a deep, shaky breath. His heart was frantic in pain at the memory, suddenly feeling cold despite the sun shining down on him—or perhaps it was cold sweat?

As if on cue, he heard Techno open the door slowly and Dream steeled himself, plastering a small and hopefully composed smile on his face as he turned around to address the brunette with a scoff, “Well, that didn’t take lo-“

His heart promptly stopped beating.

His eyes widened, dilating in shock or fear—he didn’t know. What he did know was that instead of Techno’s curly brown tuft of hair, it was darker and slicked with an undercut underneath a cap. Instead of Techno’s warm eyes behind rectangle glasses, he was met with hesitant and hopeful eyes. Instead of Techno’s ridiculous green hoodie of his rival’s merch, he saw a black hoodie with a white smile. Instead of Techno holding a tray of food, it was Sapnap.

Instead of Techno, he was looking at Sapnap.

Then, Dream saw a small, weak smile on his face-

“Hey, Dream.”

And he felt his entire world crashing onto him.

Tommy looked at Dream and Ranboo—he looked at the way they interacted after that night. He looked at how Ranboo stopped giving him nervous glances and actually participated in the conversations, albeit sparingly. The boo man was still hesitant to socialize with people outside Tubbo and maybe sometimes him. Whatever it was, he was glad that Ranboo was finally opening up to Dream. That meant all three of them saw the familiar stranger as someone they could trust. 

Tommy was not stupid, he could see the way Tubbo looked at Dream longingly. Like he was faced with something he wanted so badly but he couldn’t reach out for it just yet. 

He was not blind, either—he knew that he felt safer with this man despite the face he shared with his nightmares. His aura just screamed comfort and love and safety and it’s been so long since Tommy felt any of that sincerely from a person and he just melts at it. 

He was not shortsighted either, it usually takes much longer for Ranboo to open up to someone like this. The taller man was more reserved of who he let in and trusted—especially when he brought his memory problems into consideration. This was not being reserved of who he trusted. 

Tommy grinned and watched as Dream’s hood fell off from the wind. The snow carefully fell around them in flakes, quickly gathering in Dream’s hair. From over Dream’s head, he could see Ranboo hide his smile with his hand. The boo boy was not hiding anything from him, though. He could see the amusement in the enderman’s eyes as clear as day. Ranboo caught his gaze and glared at him, shaking his head quickly. Tommy snorted and raised an eyebrow. Ranboo wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at Tommy. Their little exchange went unnoticed by their companion, to Ranboo’s stupid luck. 

As Dream reached up and tugged the hood back on, a flash of mischief caused Tommy to want to reach over and pull the hood back down. With a light snicker, Tommy reached out despite the look Dream sent him. It was fun seeing the funny expressions Dream made. Since the man they all knew and hated always wore a mask before the prison, Tommy never saw his face or any expression he made. Even when he lost his mask when he was shoved into the prison, Tommy couldn’t read Dream’s face at all. It was like the villain had all the time to practice the perfect poker face.

And if he wasn’t doing a poker face, he was wearing the sickest smile Tommy ever saw. It made shivers crawl up his spine just thinking about it. Every expression villain Dream made were all sick and twisted and just—wrong. It was all wrong, like it didn’t fit on his face at all. Like he had forced his face muscles to go all wonky and weird and it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t look right.This Dream—this kinder and softer version of the villain and monster of the entire server was different. Every expression he made just fit. Perfectly—like a well crafted sword or a tight shield wrapped to their arm. 

Every expression he made was sincere and soft and real.

It made Tommy feel safer. It comforted Ranboo. It probably made Tubbo smile as bright as the sun. It affected all three of them and it further cemented the fact that this Dream will always be different to the other Dream. Nether, Tommy was sure the other Dream could never match up to be like this Dream. The other Dream could never in his whole life be like the blonde man before him. He could never match the brightness and the kindness this one just naturally had. He could never match the pure comfort and safety this one exuded to everyone around him.

Tommy knew that he was going to protect this Dream even if it costs his life. 

His hand flinched back when he heard a yell, his head snapping to look towards the distance. The sound was vaguely human—it was a shout and not a grunt or a hiss from any of the monsters. He tensed, even Ranboo and Dream did too, at the implications that held. Someone saw them. The thought created a pit of absolute dread in Tommy’s stomach. It fell deep like a pit and it made him sick just standing there. It made him dizzy and blurred his vision for a second. The smallest part of him that still held logic over fear above all forced him to tug at Dream’s sleeve—in warning or in fear, he didn’t know. 

What if it was Sam? Did he finally track them down and was there to drag this Dream to prison? Was it someone else who had a grudge on Dream?

Tubbo had warned them of this development. Had told them constantly to watch Dream and make sure he didn’t reveal his identity. Nothing could’ve stopped Dream from turning around. Nothing could’ve stopped the wind from blowing the man’s hood back down. Nothing could’ve stopped whoever saw them from seeing Dream’s full face. 

Absolutely nothing could’ve warned Tommy about meeting those familiar and flaming amber eyes.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he kept his eyes on the man behind them. He kept his eyes on the man even when Dream stumbled back and Tommy had to shoot his hands out to catch him. He kept his eyes on the man even when he tightened his grip on Dream as he heard the man panic—his breathing coming in quick bursts. 

Tommy knew a lot of feelings. He knew the flaming burst of anger and how it reflected on Sapnap’s eyes. How the man’s face contorted and twisted and how he gripped the handle of the axe that appeared in his hand tightly. How his voice shook and roared when he said his name. He knew the heavy leaded fear that seemed to settle in Ranboo’s bones as he shook in place. How the taller man held his sword tightly despite how much his hands and legs shook. How the taller male seemed to shy away from the burning gaze of Sapnap and wilt like a flower when his voice carried through the air. 

But most of all, he knew the way adrenaline pumped into his blood and forced him to move. To move and protect the man he cared for and felt safe with. He knew the way his blood rushed to his head, how it pumped in his ears and how his vision tunneled. He knew how his body moved without a second thought, tugging Dream back insistently despite the man’s already unbalanced movments. He knew how wide his eyes were and how his arms moved before he could control it and he was already standing and looking ready to fight. 

He knew a lot of things—how could he not, he was forced to grow up by everyone around him after all. He knew a lot of things, like how to fight with a sword and block with a shield. He knew how dangerous Sapnap really was. He knew that he only had one life left (even if Dream had already killed him and taken that away and made everything confusing). He knew that if he actually fought this man, he was not coming out of this alive. Despite knowing all of this, Tommy knew one last thing as well. 

He knew he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep this Dream alive. 

He belatedly realized that Ranboo was at his side—shaking but ready to defend their friend as well. He belatedly realized that Sapnap had started sprinting towards them at high speed, keeping his blazing eyes trained on the man behind them. Tommy knew who Sapnap’s target was, it was a no brainer. He belatedly realized that Sapnap’s axe was raised to kill—raised to chop down and tear at whoever stood in his way to his target. Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, giving Ranboo a side-glance to see him determinedly staring at Sapnap despite how much he shook in his place. 

They were going to survive. For Dream. 

Then, the worst thing possible happened. Tommy felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He was ready to turn around and curse at Dream—tell him to run, to hide, anything. Instead, he was bodily thrown aside. His feet stumbled at the sudden movement and force—forcing his body to hit against Ranboo’s own roughly and before he knew it they were on the floor. He let out loose a string of loud curses as he looked up, desperately, from his and Ranboo’s tangled limbs and at the scene playing in front of him. A scene that made his heart skip a beat and his breath stutter to a stop. A scene that he would have prevented but he didn’t. 

It was like everything was happening in slow motion. He saw the wood splintering before he heard anything. He saw the axe blade hit against the surface and dig deep into the item. He saw the way Dream flinched back and suddenly everything came rushing towards him at once. He heard the wood splinter, the loud cry of pain from Dream and the low growl of frustration from Sapnap. 

Then, as if the world didn’t do him dirty enough, Dream surged forward and threw Sapnap off of him. He pushed the ravenette away, letting the axe dislodge from his shield and forcing Sapnap to stumble back in surprise. Tommy knew better, however. He knew that for a seasoned fighter like Sapnap, that wasn’t enough to stop him. The surprise would wear off and he would be back on his rampage. He would realize it was only a small obstacle and he’d plow through it. 

Then, even fucking worse cause okay world why don’t you, Dream opened his mouth and turned to Tommy and Ranboo to yell at them to fucking run as if he wasn’t the motherfucker who was in danger in the first place. 

The motherfucker had the fucking audacity to disregard both of their incredulous looks—which he shouldn’t by the way! Because he was the one in fucking danger and not both of them! He had the audacity to look away from them and jump into the fight even more by pushing Sapnap further away. Tommy swore if Sapnap did not kill Dream, he would. Fuck his selfless thought of saving this nicer Dream—he’s a suicidal maniac who had zero care about his own life and was a blind little fuck if he thought Tommy and Ranboo could not fight to stay alive. They did not survive this long with multiple wars and threats over their head just for some newbie fuck to come in and think they weren’t capable of fighting one person. 

The exact moment, Sapnap lunged forward once more—Tommy snapped into attention and sprang forward. His reflexes weren’t shit. They couldn’t be shit if he wanted to stay alive from all the psychopaths who wanted to kill him. He prided himself in his reflexes, his abilities to fight back and dodge when he couldn’t. Then, he opened his mouth and used his strongest weapon in his arsenal. 

His words.

He knew, once upon a time, he was berated for using his words to fight. He was ridiculed for it. He was abused and pushed down and underestimated because he preferred his words to his fists. What that person didn’t know was that he could fight with both his words and his fists. He wasn’t a coward nor was he too ruthless. He knew exactly what to say to distract his opponent. It was what made everyone annoyed at his very presence. It was his main weapon to keep himself alive. It was the one thing he had trust in the most—his ability to speak and maneuver people’s attention to himself. 

He took the spotlight just as easily as Dream did. He gained everyone’s attention just as easily as Dream did. He was capable of a lot of things if he put his mind and effort to it. If he wanted to, he was going to make sure Sapnap’s attention was to him and not Dream. 

“Wait—fuck! Sapnap you bitch! Fuck off!” Tommy screeched, the words coming to him easily as he raised his sword and intercepted the hit just in time. He didn’t know how strong Dream was but another hit from Sapnap point blank on the same arm that just blocked a prior hit was not pretty. The axe hit the ground with a satisfying thud but Tommy wasn’t done here. “Fucking—STOP, STOP IT, LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

“Get the fuck away, Tommy!” Sapnap roared, his eyes still blazing with fury and this time it was focused on Tommy. Good. He had his attention now. Even if it was brief and his attention was diverted again to focus on Dream. Tommy cursed under his breath when their blades met and he stumbled back. Sapnap’s raw power alone was staggering—it was terrifying. “I promised I’d kill him if he escaped prison!”

“No, fuck you! Fucking—Ranboo, HELP ME!” Tommy screamed, this time ensuring it was enough to snap his friend out of his daze. He had stumbled too far from Sapnap and the man was now stalking towards Dream. He had to regain his senses again. If meeting Sapnap’s hit with a shield was not pretty, blocking his hit with a sword even worse and Tommy could still feel the vibrations up his arms and shoulders. He wouldn’t be shocked if Dream dislocated his shoulder or something from blocking a hit like that with a shield. The hit was raw—filled with anger and enough power to cleave a person in half. 

When he looked up, he was glad to see Ranboo was at least holding his own against Sapnap even if it was messy and uncoordinated. Tommy cursed and pushed himself up, shaking his arms out to get some feeling back into them. He hated the cold, it just made his arms and legs numb. He wondered how Dream was faring from the fight. The motherfucker better not have the same thoughts of saving them when he needed to be saved himself. 

Tommy flinched in surprise when he turned back only to see Ranboo getting his square in the chest from Sapnap’s shield. He rushed to his downed friend, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder as the enderman wheezed. Sapnap was way too powerful for them both—he had techniques and skills that they couldn’t even imagine to counter. There was a reason he stood by Dream’s side for as long as he had. 

Tommy gritted his teeth and lurched forward, meeting Sapnap’s blade with his own. It was inefficient to be fighting one by one, constantly taking turns whenever one of them was injured or occupied but it was enough. It was enough for now and that was enough. They just needed to buy time, to buy time and get Dream to run somewhere safe. Notch, maybe he could run ahead of them and get Technoblade to help them. That would be so much better, actually. 

It wasn’t long before they were able to fall into a steady rhythm of keeping Sapnap distracted by their attacks. It wasn’t long before they were both fighting him and holding him back. A triumphant and elated grin spread across his face, they were finally getting through it! 

But apparently Dream, the selfless and idiotic fuck that he was, had other thoughts. Tommy let out a yelp when Sapnap barreled past them—pushing both Ranboo and him to the ground in his haste to chase after a running Dream. Tommy let out a frustrated growl while Ranboo groaned in utter defeat and exasperation. If both of them gets out of this alive, they are skinning Dream for being the absolute little shit that he was this entire fucking fight. He was ready to fight the man to keep him alive—even if it meant hitting him hard enough in the head for him to finally see sense. 

Tommy pushed himself off the snowy ground, gritting his teeth as he chased after Sapnap. He could hear Ranboo following him as they continued to scream at Sapnap to stop. The man was a little too close to Dream for their comfort and it made Tommy sick just thinking of what would happen if Sapnap did catch up to Dream. He wasn’t ready to see that. He didn’t want to see this kind Dream on the ground, bleeding from an open wound. He didn’t want to break this nice Dream—he wanted to shield him from the dangers this world faced and ensured he kept his innocence and purity. He was too nice to just—he was too good to lose to the insanity in this world. He didn’t even fucking belong here and did absolutely nothing wrong.

This made Tommy push himself to go faster and reach out to Sapnap, intent on keeping the man from Dream. Then Dream, the deranged motherfucker oh my fucking Notch what the fuck was this fucker thinking right now, took a sharp left, barely dodging the axe blade that slammed by his feet. Despite it all, Dream met their eyes with determination and maybe a bit of insanity—Tommy wouldn’t put it past the man to be absolutely insane right now with all the dodgy and life threatening plays he’s been doing the entire time. 

Then, the motherfucker started running towards them. 

He started sprinting to them. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy whispered in astonishment and absolute deadpan as he stared at the man gunning towards them. 

“Tommy, Ranboo!” Tommy stiffened, his hand shaking as he gripped his sword hilt tighter. His vision tunneled as he stared straight at Dream but—but he was wearing netherite armor and his mask was glinting against the sun in the same way his axe seemed to raise above his head. He could hear the absolute insanity at the tone of his voice as he threatened Tommy about his discs and even used Tubbo against him. Everything came crashing back into him and he stumbled back at the sight. It was terrifying how similar their voices sounded in that singular moment. It was terrifying how a single voice could bring him back to unwanted memories and terrifying nightmares. Then-

“Get to Techno’s house! He can help!”

It snapped Tommy out of it and hopefully it snapped Ranboo out of it as well. He didn’t know much about Ranboo’s deal with Dream and the whole smiley face thing but he knew enough to be aware of what kind of effect the man had on his friend. He knew how that voice had an effect on Ranboo. 

Still, Tommy pushed past those thoughts and snarled at Dream, his face twisting in anger, “But-”

”NOW!”

Tommy startled, instinctively grabbing Ranboo’s arm in shock at the scream. That—the entire time Tommy met this new Dream, he had never spoken like the Dream he knew. The entire time he spent with this Dream, he never heard that tone of voice used against him. It was enough to give him whiplash and snap him out of his thoughts. He swallowed and looked between Ranboo and Dream who was still being chased by an even angrier Sapnap. 

Tommy took a deep breath and decided right then and there. 

He turned and ran towards the direction of Technoblade’s home, dragging Ranboo with him. The teen seemed to catch onto what he was doing and ran along with him, his sword disappearing as he tried to keep up with the blonde. Tommy let out harsh breaths as he pushed himself to go faster and faster. If anything—he had a chance to win against Sapnap. If anything, he would be stronger and better to help keep Sapnap alive. If anything, he was what they needed right now—no matter how much Tommy hated that fact.

“Tommy?” Ranboo whispered a little hysterically, no doubt looking at him worriedly. Tommy had no time to turn back and reassure his friend, he was running on fumes. He needed to get him to stop Sapnap before Dream died. 

“We have to- we need to get Technoblade!” Tommy rushed out harshly. “It’s- it’s the only way to keep Dream alive!”

“Are we sure he would help?” Ranboo hissed worriedly, eyes narrowed in panic and worry.

“I don’t fucking care what he thinks!” Tommy snarled, the anger flowing through his veins giving him the extra boost he needed. He would never forgive himself if he got Dream killed. He was sure his counterpart wouldn’t either. If he had a Dream as nice and comforting as this was then he’d be devastated if he lost him. Nether, he only had this nice Dream for five days and he was ready to kill and die for him at a moment's notice. “We are going to force him to help or so help me I will fucking blow up his house like he blew up L’manberg.”

When Ranboo quieted down and the rest of their journey was done in silence with the exception of ragged and stuttered breathing, Tommy wondered if maybe he had pushed a little too far. He shook his head and continued to run towards Technoblade's house. He swore to Notch that if they were late he was going to skin Sapnap, the motherfucker, alive. He was not going to lose this one good thing. Not anymore. He was done losing everything he cared about to people who didn’t give a flying fuck about him and only acted like they did because he was a child. He scoffed at the thought—he was so tired of hearing that excuse. It degraded all the things he did and made him seem like some naive little shit. 

He was not naive.

He swallowed thickly and pushed himself to run faster, letting go of Ranboo’s wrist despite the teen’s protest. He sprinted faster and faster and didn’t even stop when he scrambled up the slippery steps of Technoblade’s home. He panted as he pounded on the door, eyes ablaze with fury and desperation as he continued to pound. He swore if Technoblade didn’t answer the fucking door soon he was going to chop it down and ransack the entire fucking house and-

“What do you want?” Technoblade threw open the door with a dark growl, eyes narrowed as he levelled his axe against Tommy’s neck. “You dare to come back here after that farce of an apology-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE TECHNOBLADE AND LISTEN TO ME!” Tommy roared, batting the axe away in his anger as he lurched forward and grabbed Technoblade’s collar in his hands. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide and wild as he glared heatedly at Technoblade. The hybrid merely bared his teeth in a snarl, glaring at Tommy with more heat than usual.

“That’s rich comin’ from the brat who didn’t listen to me.” He spat in his face, his voice deep and furious.

“Yeah, well-!”

“Guys, guys…” Ranboo wheezed from the running, rushing to separate the two with wild and panicked eyes. “Can we—can we not make things worse?”

“What do you want?” Technoblade repeated coldly despite his gaze softening when he looked at Ranboo for a brief moment.

Tommy scoffed at the blatant favoritism and crossed his arms as he tapped his foot against the floor, “Hurry the fuck up and explain, Ranboo. I’m not going to sit here and wait for Dream to die.”

“What?” Technoblade looked at Tommy incredulously. Tommy sneered back at him and moved away from the pink haired man, turning his head away from him. It was weird enough for him to come back in a frenzy like this, looking for Technoblade. It was another to beg for Technoblade to save Dream—his self-proclaimed enemy and the very same man he shoved into prison proudly. It just didn’t make sense without meeting this Dream. 

Even so, Tommy felt dread settle in his stomach. What if Technoblade didn’t help them because this wasn’t the Dream he knew. What if they had a spat before this and that was why Technoblade didn’t cash in the favor when Dream was surrounded and shoved into prison. What if Technoblade would turn away and the moment Ranboo and him got back, Dream would be dead?

So many ‘what if’ scenarios floated in his head that it made him dizzy. He stumbled back, his hand reaching out to the railing behind him as he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He ignored the worried glance Ranboo sent him and he waved him away. He breathed heavily, realizing how dangerous this situation really was. If they didn’t get Technoblade on their side, Dream would be dead. He’d be dead and they wouldn’t even know if he could respawn. He’d be dead and another good thing would be taken away from Tommy. He’d be dead and Tubbo would lose someone he so desperately hoped for again. He’d be dead and Ranboo would have no one to trust beyond them three. He would be dead and- and- and-

He stumbled back even more, paling at the thought. 

“-ommy!” 

He snapped up, his eyes meeting Ranboo’s and he let out a shuddering breath, “Ranboo… Ranboo… please, we might—we might be too late.”

“We won’t.” Ranboo whispered, his grip on Tommy’s shoulders (huh, when did the boo boy touch him?) tight. “We won’t- we won’t be late.”

“What are you two talkin’ about?” Technoblade demanded, the frown on his face deep. The sight alone made a bubble of hysterical laughter claw its way out of Tommy’s throat as his eyes blurred with tears. He must’ve looked like an absolute sight, nearly breaking down at the thought of someone dying. Notch, he was getting soft for this self-sacrificing little shit of a man and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Listen-”

Tommy cut Ranboo off, “Dream escaped prison and he’s being chased by Sapnap,” 

Ranboo sent Tommy a look and Technoblade raised an infuriating eyebrow, “And you came to me… to do what, exactly?”

“We came to you to ask for help!” Tommy rushed out, his breath almost leaving him at the words. It made him cringe—the last time he had asked for Technoblade’s help, he had been in exile and he was hiding from Dream. Now, it seemed almost laughable that Tommy was asking for his help again but this time to help Dream. 

“Help you with what?” Technoblade sneered, his face contorting into bitter amusement. Tommy wondered what the man was thinking—maybe he was thinking that this was some sort of sick trick. That maybe this was another ambush waiting to take place. Maybe they were here to lure him into thinking he was saving Dream and then jump him and execute him. He wondered if the man thought it was some sort of bitter irony, that his loyalty and kindness to the one person who had yet to betray him in the entire server was going to be the fall of his entire being. He wondered if Technoblade would turn around and just slam the door closed and be done with it all. “To kill Dream?”

“I need you to save Dream.” Tommy whispered, lowering his gaze to the floor as the words cut through the silence in the air. He could feel Technoblade’s disbelieving gaze on him and Ranboo’s worried one. 

Then, a sharp bark of laughter punctured the air and Tommy snapped his head up to glare at Technoblade. The hybrid had the audacity to throw his head back while he bellowed out his annoying, grating laughter, “You want me to save Dream? And then what? So you can shove him back into the inhumane prison?”

Tommy froze and gritted his teeth, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He shook in his anger and disappointment. Of course, Technoblade wouldn’t help them. He didn’t understand. He would never understand what it felt like to finally have someone to care about and have them so close to being ripped away from his hands. To have someone that was actually sincere in this entire goddamn server who wasn’t affected by everyone’s insanity. To have someone who he wasn’t scared of being betrayed by or being hurt by. To have someone to complete you and understand what you’re going through without being patronizing. 

“You fucking- shut the fuck-”

“Tommy.” Ranboo hissed and held him back. He breathed in and looked at the taller enderman, keeping his gaze firm and determined to communicate his thoughts. Ranboo let out a stuttering sigh before he turned to Technoblade, “Just- he’s telling the truth. Sapnap is about to kill Dream-”

“Are you sure we’re speakin’ about the same person?” Technoblade snapped with a raised eyebrow. It lacked the usual amount of anger and heat compared to when he was talking to Tommy but he didn’t care. He could have favoritism all he wanted.  

“I- we don’t have time to fully explain it.” Ranboo let out, his voice on the brink of exhaustion and exasperation. He was looking at Technoblade pleadingly and Tommy turned his head away.

“What if it’s a trick?” Technoblade scowled, pinning the two with a glare. Tommy knew that they should’ve let Dream be the one to come here and to stay safe. Maybe at least then, they’d lure Sapnap here and Technoblade could fight the fucking bastard himself without the need for this awkward as fuck convincing bullshit. “What if you’re going to ambush me and drag me to the prison yourselves?”

“You really fucking think we have the power to fucking fight you, Technoblade?” Tommy let out hysterically. He was already bordering on hysterics—the longer they stayed here meant Dream was closer to death. They couldn’t do this right now. They couldn’t stall like this too much. Dream was going to fucking die and it’s going to be Tommy’s fault again-

“Listen, let’s make a deal.” Ranboo cut in, stepping between Technoblade and Tommy before either of them could lunge at each other. Sometimes, Tommy had to begrudgingly admit the taller teen had some good instincts. “If it’s a trick, then you have every right to kill us.”

“What the fuck, Ranboo-!”

“Fine.”

Tommy turned to Technoblade with a gaping mouth, looking between the two in shock. He swiveled his head to glare at Ranboo, shoving a finger at the taller teen’s armored chest incredulosuly, “What the fuck are you thinking, Ranboo!”

“Just- shut up.” Ranboo sighed out harshly, weariness and dread already taking over his entire lanky frame. Tommy would get even more mad at the enderman if they didn’t already have high and worrying stakes. He begrudgingly agreed and they ran past Technoblade without looking back, leading him to where they left Dream. 

Internally, Tommy chanted and hoped and prayed to whatever deity out there that Dream was still alive. He needed this—just this. After all the things that were taken from him, L’manberg, his discs, Tubbo, his lives… he hoped that for fucking once that the world would be kind to him and wouldn’t take this away from him. 

He hoped and prayed and wished that Dream was still alive. If not for him but for his counterpart. His counterpart who smiled bright enough to rival the sun. His counterpart who lived through a life with no war and hardships and psychopaths trying to kill him every time he so much as breathed. His counterpart who had Dream—this Dream who was kind and nice and comforting and so fucking safe to be around, and would be absolutely devastated if he was gone and dead. His counterpart whom he was being selfless for because goddammit if he was going to be selfless it might as well be for his fucking counterpart who lived a happy life. A life that Tommy envied the most. A life that Tommy got a little taste of in the form of this Dream. 

This Dream who was on the floor when they weren’t even close enough to intercept Sapnap. This Dream who seemed tired and boneless and accepting of his fucking death as Sapnap raised his axe high in the air. This Dream who was on the brink of death and disappearing and being taken away from him again- again- again- again-

”DREAM!”

The scream that ripped through his throat was raw and loud and so desperate. 

The scream that ripped through the silent snowy air caused his tears to finally fall. 

The scream that ripped through forced him to his knees as he felt the last of his resolve leave his body. 

The scream that ripped through was enough for Technoblade to act. 

Technoblade didn’t know what came over him but seeing the raw pain and fear and desperation appear in Tommy’s face made him move. It made him move faster than anything ever did in his entire life. He quickly grabbed Tommy’s discarded diamond sword that struck the ground and reached into his inventory for his pearl. He didn’t know what pushed him over the edge really.

If it was Tommy’s desperately fearful face and the raw voice that cried out for his enemy’s name in vain. 

If it was Ranboo’s shut down look and how he went stagnant, tears silently streaming down his face as he looked wide-eyed at the scene before him.

Or maybe, it was the sight of his rival—the only person in the entire server to treat him as an equal and never betray him, laying on the ground on his back. His posture was enough to tell he had given up and was accepting the blow of the axe. He was giving up, when he had never backed down from a fight. He was accepting his death, when he would challenge it more times than Techno did and paid for it—but he lived. 

Now he wasn’t. He was on his last canon life and he was going to die.

Maybe that was what forced Technoblade to sprint forward and throw the pearl, uncaring that his crown had fallen off or how his cape flowed in the wind. Not even the pain of the ender pearl breaking and dragging him to stand in front of Sapnap could ever stop him. Nothing could ever stop him from acting out and blocking the hit that was meant for his rival. 

Despite that, one thing made him pause.

The breathy call of his name—the way it was said in such reverence and surprise and relief.  

Involuntarily, he turned to gaze at the fallen figure of his rival and easily quipped back like he was just breathing air as he tried his best to ignore the voices chanting more murder and bloodshed in his head-

“Imagine bein’ saved instead of fightin’ back. You that rusty, Dream?”

Chapter Text

There were many facts in the world that Technoblade had acquainted himself with ever since he familiarized himself with this new server. A few of these were-

One, he believed in anarchy and nothing (not even joining Dream’s server) could ever change his mind.

Two, he believed in treating others how they treat you.

Three, Tommy and Dream had been at odds against each other ever since Tommy joined.

Four, he could never trust anyone fully in this server. And-

Five, he still cared. 

So, when Dream, his rival (dare he say, friend)—passed out on the ground behind him, he startled both Sapnap and himself with his next actions. He slid his sword under the lower arc of the axe and exert enough force to cause the weapon to go flying to their right. With Sapnap disarmed, Technoblade was able to turn around and give Dream his full attention. 

[Technosoft]

[AYYY THE RIVALS! HE CARESSS GUYS]

[There’s something off tho…]

[Yeah no shit, didn’t Tommy hate Dream?]

One thing he wasn’t prepared to see when he saved his rival was said rival collapsing and passing out in the snow. He wondered what exactly was happening behind the closed doors of the prison. It made him feel an ounce of guilt—the thought of his rival being trapped in a glorified obsidian box only to have something done to him to look like he was resigned to death. It had scared him, almost. The thought of the one man who had challenged life, death, and everything in between finally giving up was terrifying. Especially considering how Dream’s determination to stay alive was frightening on it’s own. 

[Should’ve saved him when you had the chance.]

[L]

[L]

[RegretNoBlade!]

[TechnoRegret?]

[TechnoRegret.]

He blinked when he was faced with not just Dream’s fallen and prone form but Ranboo and Tommy fussing and crowding around his rival. Ranboo had carefully and gently cradled Dream’s head on his lap, carding a shaky hand through the short strands of hair, while Tommy was sat near Dream’s waist, clutching his hand tightly as he let out a shaky yet relieved breath as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on Dream’s chest. He was taken aback at the sudden intimacy and closeness the two teens (both, he was sure, suffered greatly at Dream’s hands at one point) towards Dream. 

[Damn, what?]

[Yooo… didn’t Tommy hate Dream?]

[The fuck type of gaslighting…?]

[Wait, ayo… Doesn’t Dream look odd?]

“What is this?” he asked slowly, eyes narrowed as he gripped his sword tightly. He couldn’t discount what Chat was saying. They all knew Dream and Tommy’s very apparent hatred for one another. 

While he had noticed the two hovering and fussing over Dream, he had also noticed something very peculiar. 

The fact that that was not how his rival looked like the last time he saw the man. 

[YOO- WHAT? WHERE’S HIS SCAR?]

[Where’s his mask????]

[Guys, better question yet- WHERE’S HIS LONG LUSCIOUS HAIR???]

[Oh my god- shut the fuck up.]

[No <3]

He hated to say it but Chat was right. Dream lacked any of the scars that littered his face—especially the one that Technoblade remembered the most since he was the one to give it to him. Not just that, but his hair was styled completely different to the way Dream used to have it as well. Every little thing that Technoblade used to nitpick about his rival was gone. Despite it all, he can still begrudgingly say that this was Dream—just not the one he knew. Even his outfit was so out of place if he had truly broken out of prison just recently.

Tommy stiffened at his words and peeked out to glare at him, his grip on Dream’s hand tightening. To his utter surprise, Tommy had shifted so it looked like he was standing in front of Dream, “What do you mean?” he regarded him lowly, clearly protective.

“Tommy, Ranboo—what the fuck is this?” Sapnap’s voice growled from behind. Technoblade easily turned and positioned the blade under Sapnap’s neck, red eyes glaring at him in warning. Sapnap scoffed but stopped his advance, instead turning to inspect Dream with narrowed and critical eyes. “Who is that?”

[The fuck?]

[Wasn’t he on terminator mode like,,, a few seconds ago?]

[Motherfucker tried to kill a man and didn’t know who he was]

[He took a bigger L than Techno]

[L]

[L]

[Imagine killing a stranger, couldn’t be me.]

“Didn’t you attack him indiscriminately just moments ago?” Technoblade drawled. He didn’t have the full story—not yet, but it was easy to tell what had happened before he arrived. Even Chat could agree that it was clear as day what the other hybrid was doing. A continuous attack on Dream that ended with the blonde on the ground and Sapnap poised and ready to kill him. Poised and ready to kill the man he had just asked for the identity of. 

[YEAH DRAG HIM]

[DRAG HIM KING]

“Yeah, well-” Sapnap stuttered as he realized his actions from before. Technoblade could see the embers of anger slowly die down as the hybrid before him calmed down slightly. The adrenaline high he had no doubt experienced was slowly ebbing away as he looked down at the protective teens and the man that was Dream but also…not. “At first—at first I just saw his familiar green eyes and I just- I guess I blacked out in anger?”

“So you recognized him as Dream?” Technoblade confirmed, looking between Sapnap and Dream. He knew of the infamous Dream Team and how close the trio actually were. It wouldn’t be a complete shock if Sapnap did know what Dream looked like behind the mask—even more so if he seemed to recognize his friend despite how different he looked. Younger, perhaps. 

[Time travel pog?]

[Ayo, age regression pog?]

[Okay what the fuck no, not pog]

[Okay but, time travel???]

[I mean, it does happen.]

[You know, with [REDACTED] doing that all the time]

[EW SPOILERS]

[There’s a fucking filter dumbass]

[Still, spoilers]

“Well, yeah? At first, I saw his green eyes and blonde hair. It was Dream.” Sapnap frowned, backing up from the blade and pushing it away. “Even his build and voice was the same. The way he blocked my attack—it was just undeniably Dream.”

“But?” Technoblade prompted, raising an eyebrow at the blaze-hybrid before him. Sapnap pressed his lips together as his brows furrowed, looking at Dream with a complicated expression. 

“But now that I have a clear look at him… It’s not Dream. He doesn’t have the scars on his face nor did he have the long hair he had when trapped in the prison for months.” He admitted as he gestured helplessly at the man that was still in Ranboo and Tommy’s protective hold. “It’s like he…aged back? He looks younger…”

[SEE AGE REGRESSION, I WAS RIGHT]

[NO YOU ARE NOT]

[I'M LIKE [REDACTED], I PREACH THE TRUTH BUT YOU JUST CRUCIFY ME FOR IT]

[Why are we arguing about this?]

[BECAUSE I WAS RIGHT BUT NONE OF YOU BELIEVE ME]

[I REFUSE TO ACCEPT AGE REGRESSION DUMBASS]

Technoblade hummed and turned to regard the two teens in exasperation and suspicion, “Do you know who this is?”

Of course, they did. How could they not.

With the way Tommy held Dream’s hand like it was his lifeline—the way he had screamed not too long ago in despair and desperation. The way Tommy seemed to care about this man the same way he cared about Tubbo (the lingering pain of betrayal made his chest tighten before he brushed it away) and his discs. The way Tommy was ready to fight both him and Sapnap if they ever showed any hostility to the man on the ground. The way that Tommy was not acting the way he should when faced with a Dream doppelganger made him realize they did know. 

[Awe, Tommy soft.]

[Discduo, my beloved]

[What the fuck, he was [REDACTED] by him, remember?]

[Shhhh, this discduo is soft. We don’t talk about the past]

[Don’t talk about the past, my ass.]

With the way Ranboo cradled Dream’s head in his lap without care. The way that he carded his hands through Dream’s hair comfortingly albeit shakily. The way he didn’t seem to be averse to Dream’s presence like he had explained to Phil and him (admittedly, they hadn’t taken it seriously but a small part of him was a bit wary about what he was told—maybe that was why he hadn’t helped Dream when he first called him for the favor). The way he seemed almost confident as he sat there with Dream in his arms was surprising. It was, once again, another reason Technoblade believed the two knew what was going on and who this person was. 

[Oh, damn, this is new.]

[Wait, dude, his hoodie has like a shit ton of smiling faces]

[Won’t he, you know. Do that?]

[I don’t know, I mean, isn’t this a different Dream?]

[Eh, we’ll see]

“He’s Dream.” Tommy scrunched his face as he responded with a steely voice. “I wasn’t lying when I said he was being chased by Sapnap.”

“That is not Dream.” Technoblade scowled, crossing his arms as Sapnap nodded beside him. 

“It is Dream.” Tommy insisted with a scoff.

“Tommy…” Ranboo sighed.

“What? I’m not fucking explaining this shit to them.” Tommy made a face as he scooted closer to Dream. Technoblade could see the way his knees scraped on the icy and hard ground but the teen didn’t seem to care. “I don’t even fucking understand what the fuck happened.”

Ranboo sighed and shifted closer, as if their proximity with each other was enough to forget about the cold snow around them, “I thought you understood already. That was why you were very protective of him.”

“Fuck you, I can still be protective of him without understanding fully.” Tommy let go of Dream’s hand to flip Ranboo off. Then, almost immediately after, he reached back and clutched his hand close. “Just look at him, who wouldn’t want to protect him.”

[He’s right and he knows it]

[TRUTH, HE KNOWS HIS SHIT]

[Who wouldn’t want to protect him, indeed]

Technoblade had to physically stop himself from agreeing with Tommy. Just looking at Dream, he seemed too soft. So protectable, like he didn’t know the dangers and horrors of the world. That type of naivety, combined with his pure looks, made him the perfect candidate to have everyone feel protective of him. Be it as a younger sibling, parental figure or close friend. While he was able to stop himself in time, that courtesy wasn’t extended to Sapnap who was furiously nodding at his side. He just…didn’t belong, and shouldn’t belong at all.

[L]

[Technosoft]

[Sapnap soft]

[Everyone soft for new Dream]

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose (Chat had been so talkative more so than usual and they always were, which was saying something), turning back to Tommy, “I still demand an explanation.”

“Me too.”

“You just almost killed him, I have some reservations about letting you near him.” Technoblade shot back immediately, turning to Sapnap to glare at him effectively, sizing the man up. While he was powerful, he was also equally impulsive. He had gone head to head against Sapnap from time to time and never once did he ally himself with the man despite his closeness to Dream. “Don’t you work for the government? Or fought with them?”

[Drag gim, yass]

[Kick his ass verbally]

[Yeah, decimate him]

Sapnap looked at him incredulously and—that wasn’t fair. He was supposed to be the one looking at him incredulously with his audacity of wanting an explanation when he nearly killed Dream, “I only fought against Dream because I didn’t agree with his ideals. I wasn’t fighting for L’manberg.” 

“Still.” Technoblade waved his hand and made a shooing motion towards the man. “You’re not welcome here.”

Sapnap’s eyes glowed a fierce color, almost akin to lava, as he glared at Technoblade. He stayed firm in his decisions, even when he caught a whiff of smoke and a small fire started by the tips of Sapnap’s hair. He crossed his arms and glared at the man harder, meeting his gaze head on. He opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted.

[FiGHT FIGHT FIGHT]

[WE GOT ROBBED OF A SAPNAP V TECHNO FIGHT]

[YEAHHH, COME ON]

[BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD]

“What the fuck are you two on?” Tommy groaned as he dragged a hand down his face. Technoblade switched his glare to the teen, feeling his annoyance grow as his patient wore thin. The blonde scrunched his nose as he glared right back, “We’re going to explain to both of you, stop being bitches.”

[L]

[Robbed again, smh]

“Don’t you mean I’m explaining it to both of them?” Ranboo let out a resigned sigh, looking at Tommy with his lips pressed into a thin line. Tommy shot a grin at Ranboo before he lost it when he turned back to the other two warriors before them. Ranboo rolled his eyes and regarded the two, “You both need to know the situation.”

“Does he really have to go-”

“Yes.” Ranboo interrupted with a sigh. Technoblade’s eye twitched before he turned away as well, crossing his arms. “Now… uh- who can carry Dream back to Techno’s house-”

“I’ll do it.”

“I can manage.”

The tension thickened as Technoblade and Sapnap exchanged a heated look. They stood their ground as they glared at each other, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. Technoblade tightened his grip on his sword as he thought about Sapnap carrying Dream—the same man who had chased the blonde and almost decapitated him. He could see the way Sapnap gripped his axe tight, until his knuckles were white, and how his eyes glowed even fiercely.

They were at a standstill and Technoblade didn’t want to back down first. 

[YEAH FIGHT]

[But like, I wanna know the storyyy]

[Fight!]

Tommy snorted and stood up suddenly, moving away from the two, “Fucking idiots.”

“Tommy-”

“Whatever. Give me my sword back, Technoblade.” Tommy scowled, reaching out with his palm facing the sky. He raised an eyebrow at Technoblade and the hybrid felt his annoyance peak. If it wasn’t for the passed out man in the snow and how the air was getting colder and the day was getting shorter, he would’ve just up and left them behind without another word. Instead, he sucked in a breath and handed the sword back to Tommy.

“You still have my axe of peace.”

[Dropkick the child]

[No, don’t]

[He hasn’t apologized]

[Didn’t he tho?]

[It was pretty shitty…]

[Idk guys, felt sincere. At least, in his own weird Tommy way.]

[Whatever]

“I tried giving it back, you motherfucker.” Tommy spat back. 

Technoblade sighed and turned away, instead focusing on Dream and Ranboo. He was not about to open that can of worms and spill it everywhere for Sapnap and Ranboo to see. It was an argument for another day—hopefully never if it gets to that point. He wasn’t ready to reopen wounds that he already tended to and wrapped tightly. He wasn’t ready to reopen wounds that were already healed. He wasn’t ready for that and he didn’t think he’ll ever be. Not now, not ever. 

“What if Sapnap carries him and you can lead us to your house, Techno.” Ranboo suggested.

“No.” Technoblade huffed and bent down, easily carrying Dream in his arms (Notch, he barely weighted anything). He sent Sapnap a glare. He didn’t trust that man at all. Especially not when he heard of the Dream Team’s so-called fallout.

He couldn’t imagine falling out of a friendship with someone based on a ‘he said, she said’ situation. If anything, he would’ve confronted the offending party and asked them where it went wrong. Then, he’d listen. He’d listen because if they had a valid excuse for it—an explanation, he would understand. The betrayals, on the other hand, hurt too much for him to confront anyone about. It hurt to the point that he only knew how to lash out and be angry. It hurt to the point he didn’t understand and couldn’t understand why the other side had done it to him. He had made his intentions clear and yet they still pushed for it. 

He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, pushing the thoughts away. There was no time for him to dwell on such useless facts. Hopefully, once this all ended, Tommy would leave and go back to his lovely friend who totally did not exile him and embody the government, Tubbo! That way, everything will finally fit into place and he can continue living in the tundra with Phil and the Syndicate. At least with these people around him, he was sure they wouldn’t betray him.

Not at all. 

[...]

[Who invited feelings today?]

[Man…]

He blinked however, when Tommy stopped him and handed him a golden circlet—his crown. He stared at the object silently, wondering if there was any sort of trap that could be set off from this gesture alone. When he said nothing, Tommy huffed and stood on his tiptoes and practically threw the heavy metal crown on his head. His hair was ruffled by the sudden impact of the object and he glared at Tommy. That hurt.

[L]

[L]

[Technosoft]

[WeaknoBlade]

[Almighty Blood god, taken down by a mere crown]

[Shows the government is shit]

[Technoblade, fallen by a single crown]

[Biggest L you’ve taken so far]

Tommy, as if reading his mind, smirked triumphantly as he marched forward, “No shit, asshole. Should’ve just gotten it from me like a normal functioning human being.”

“I am far from a normal functioning human being.” Technoblade snorted with a roll of his eyes. He noted how Ranboo and Sapnap were lagging back, with the taller teen eyeing the blaze hybrid with caution and wariness. At least there was one other person in this group that didn’t trust the hybrid. He would’ve gone crazy if he was the only one. “That and I am currently occupied with carrying your…”

“Friend.”

“Right, highly doubt that.” Technoblade deadpanned, staring at the back of Tommy’s head. That sentence must’ve struck a chord in the child as he turned around and leveled him with a glare. He merely scoffed and passed the blonde easily, walking a bit faster to avoid the proceeding outburst.

[OOP, the shade]

[How will Tommy continue living with that]

[L to TommyInnit, the child]

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ah, seems like the brat caught up. 

“It means that you throw around that title uselessly only to turn your back and go back to the only person you really care about and that’s Tubbo.” Technoblade stated, keeping his gaze forward. That alone made him miss the clear hurt that flashed through Tommy’s eyes before it settled with annoyance and rage. 

“Now you listen here you entitled fuck-”

“Tommy!”

“-I wasn’t the one who fucking blew up L’manberg two times!” Tommy screeched, his shrill voice echoing in the calm and quiet snowy plains. 

[Oh no.]

[Oop]

[Feelings entered the chat]

[Who allowed this]

“It was a government and for both times, I made it very clear where my intentions lied.” Technoblade frowned, finally turning around to face Tommy and show the brat his unamused face. “If L’manberg didn’t slight me two times then maybe I would’ve just left it alone!”

“Oh you fucking bitch!” Tommy hissed, jabbing a finger at his direction, “If this was because I fucking left you in that confrontation in the Community House and went with Tubbo, then you should’ve fucking known my loyalty lied with my country! It’s the one good thing that ever happened to me on this goddamned server!”

“No, Tommy.” Technoblade growled, his voice lowering as he stopped to face the teen. He was done with this. He was tired of all this talk of betrayal when all he wanted was a peaceful retirement. He was done with L’manberg already—he had run away and built a house to be left alone. He was retired, for Notch’s sake. He didn’t want anything to do with the country but no—they just had to come back and drag him into it when he was done. “This isn’t about your farce of a betrayal anymore. This was because L’manberg—your government tracked me down and tried to kill me after I decided to retire.”

[Point.]

[Should’ve left him alone during his retirement smh]

[Still, god a good fight]

[Yeahhh, that line was so quotable]

[I’ll put it through your teeth!! Chills]

“Well, you probably fucking deserved that.” Tommy snapped, turning away and stomping off before Technoblade could get another word out edgewise. 

Technoblade breathed in and let it out. That was it, his patience has reached the limit. If Tommy hadn’t stomped off, he would’ve reached over and strangled the teen. Then, belatedly, he realized that even if Tommy hadn’t stomped away he still wouldn't be able to hit him with the presence of an unconscious Dream in his arms. He let out a heavy sigh and continued onwards, ignoring the stares from behind his back. He didn’t have the time for that. 

[Sure you don’t]

[Ah yes, repression, my beloved]

[Repression, my beloved]

[L]

[Imagine repressing your feelings, couldn’t be me]

[Big L]

[Imagine actually healthily talking about your feelings, couldn’t be me]

[Okay guys, we all have trauma now shut up]

[Ouch]

[That hurt,,, muffled sobbing]

[Good, fuck you]

[Wow, who hurt you today?]

[Shut up]

[L, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed]

[Someone pissed on their cereal bet.]

[Big L]

[Oh my fucking-]

“Okay, I get it, Chat. Now, shut up.” Technobalde grunted under his breath as he climbed the steps to his home. He could already see the racoon of a brat rummaging through his things inside. He sighed and closed his eyes, counting to ten. He was not going to commit a murder today, definitely not. Nope. 

He pushed the door open and walked inside, leaving it open for Ranboo and Sapnap to come in. He ignored the cold that seeped into his normally warm home and internally lamented the loss of warmth. He sighed and turned to the couch, carefully placing the blonde down and arranging his limbs to fit on the soft cushions. He straightened and turned to Tommy and Ranboo with crossed arms, staring at them as he kept an eye on Sapnap as well. 

“Well?” Technoblade tilted his head as he leaned against the arm of the couch, glancing at the unconscious man. 

“Well…” Ranboo coughed into his fist. “So… how do we do this?”

“Maybe explain from the start?” Sapnap waved his hands around, having kept his axe on the way to the house. When he finished, he reached over and unstrapped his chestplate—something Technoblade didn’t think he would do in this situation. Then again, he didn’t really know Sapnap that much anyways. 

“He’s right.” Technoblade hummed as returned his focus to the shifting enderman hybrid. “The beginning is a pretty good way to start.”

“Oh, uh- it started…” Ranboo sneaked a glance at Tommy who had sat on the ground, pulling his legs up to his chest as he glared at nothing. “It started with Tommy sorta… breaking into the prison.”

“What?” Sapnap’s eyes widened as he gawked. Technoblade can’t even blame him. If this story ended with Tommy breaking Dream out of prison and finding a way to clean him up and disguise him like this—he would be pleasantly surprised. 

“No, no- just- let me finish.” Ranboo cleared his throat, his hands fiddling with his tie incessantly. He shook his head and stuttered to himself before he nodded. Technoblade raised an eyebrow as Ranboo continued, “It started there. Tommy tried to kill Dream but it- it was a flunk. He failed. It ended with Ghostbur stuck in the cell… with the other Dream.”

“Other Dream…” Technoblade muttered to himself, watching the two teens with a critical eye. That wasn’t a mistake. It was like they were putting a barrier between the Dream they knew and this… man on his couch. He peeked another glance at him, noting how soft his features were once more. Too soft to survive in any of the servers. 

[Oohh, other Dream?]

[Man, Ghostbur [REDACTED] was so sad]

[Yeah, shame.]

“Tommy said that… the other Dream,” there it was again, the stutter and pause before calling him by that moniker. As if he was a whole different person that they didn’t want to associate with, “had threatened to kill- wait no, revive Ghostbur. Yeah, and uh- he like, killed him I guess? I don’t know how it works.”

“Okay… how does this relate?” Sapnap gestured between the man on the couch and Ranboo. He had successfully taken and kept his armor in his inventory and was standing in his normal outfit. He had his arms crossed and leaning against the door. Technoblade applauded him for his caution—staying close to the exit in case things went wrong. “Like, right now it’s looking like some weird… disconnected story.”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen, bitchboy.” Tommy spoke, his voice slightly muffled as he had squished his lower face into his arms. His dull blue eyes glared at everyone in the room but the blonde man and Ranboo. 

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, Tommy said that… that if Ghostbur was- if Wilbur was revived, he’d be at L’manberg. Something about the revival book working that way.” Ranboo shrugged, “So we went to L’manberg, to the last place Wilbur was seen and where he died. We- we expected a lot of things. A revived Wilbur, absolutely nothing but—uh- it’s- we found him instead.”

Ranboo gestured to the unconscious blonde and Technoblade frowned, “Wait- what?”

“Yeah, he- he was at Wilbur’s… grave? I don’t know. Instead of Wilbur, we saw him and- and he seemed to recognize Tommy and we all thought he was the other Dream. We all thought he had escaped prison and we were ready to fight.” Ranboo licked his lips before he pressed them into a thin line. He averted his eyes and looked down, moving his hands to fiddle with the edge of his blazer instead of his tie. “We- we demanded answers and we got them.” 

“Which is?” Technoblade drawled with an expectant face.

[Damn, they acting like this dude is a whole different Dream.]

[I mean…]

[No way…]

[Nah,, they gotta- they’re lying]

[Where’s the slash jay]

“He’s Dream.” Ranboo waved his hands around, “But not- he’s not the Dream we know. He’s different. He’s- what did he say?”

“He said he was like a different dimension, I dunno.” Tommy shrugged, explaining very helpfully. “Something about living in a place with people like us but no… wars and stuff.”

“Yeah, that. He—he showed us some proof with his… phone?” Ranboo's face scrunched in confusion, “I don’t- I don’t know but yeah. He showed us videos that had us in it and it, it checked out. We didn’t do those things and we sorta—we sorta just believed it. He couldn’t just… make that up, you know?”

“So you say that he’s from another dimension?” Technoblade deadpanned. His eyes twitched in slight annoyance. He thought he could trust Ranboo but everything that was coming out of his mouth at this moment sounded almost like Tommy was orchestrating everything. It was unbelievable and stupid. 

[SEE IT WASN’T AGE REGRESSION, IDIOT]

[FUCK- I- DAMMIT]

[L]

[SHUT UP]

“Isn’t that- won’t that just be another server?” Sapnap asked, looking between the unconscious man and Ranboo. His eyes sparked and Technoblade had a feeling he was at his wit’s end. He can’t even blame him, he was nearing his wit’s end as well. His annoyance from before was coming back and it was peaking. “That doesn’t make sense- are you even telling the truth.”

“Believe it or not,” Tommy scoffed, “he’s really Dream from a different…reality. A reality where we’re all…friends. It’s weird.”

“That sounds so unbelievable.” Technoblade snorted, straightening from his spot and walking forward. He couldn’t see a world that could exist that wasn’t as tainted as this. There was no way there was a copy of this world where everyone was all friendly with one another—not with everyone’s history with one another. “How am I sure this isn’t a trick? How am I sure that this isn’t some weird prank you have played?”

[IDK sounds too well made for it to come from Tommy]

[L did you just call him stupid?]

[True]

[Sounds believable tho, not as far fetched as what [REDACTED] does on a daily basis]

[That is true, not the weirdest shit we’ve heard]

“It’s not!” Tommy pushed himself to stand up, glaring fiercely at Technoblade. His hands were clenched into fists at his side. Technoblade could see him shaking slightly, in anger or annoyance—he didn’t know. Maybe he was already at his limit but he didn’t care. 

“Your story is so far-fetched!” Sapnap hissed.

“Yeah- well! Why don’t you wait for him to wake the fuck up so he can explain it better to you fuckers!” Tommy screamed, his voice pitching higher as he looked between the two agitated warriors. Then, his face twisted into a malicious and mocking grin (it looked so wrong on his face, so so wrong. Where did the kid emulate that face from?) “Oh wait, nevermind! I forgot you chased him around until he fucking collapsed in exhaustion, Snapmap!”

“Now listen here you little-”

“Tommy?” a new voice groaned, causing everyone to flinch and stiffen. 

[Holy shit]

[Dude…]

[What the fuck]

There was no denying it. That voice—it was so familiar. Technoblade could remember constantly arguing and speaking with Dream and that voice was what he heard in response. He could remember it very clearly and this—this just proved it all. He slowly turned, noting how the blonde—how Dream had pushed himself into a sitting position as he looked at the angry teen. His mouth clicked shut as he looked at familiar bright green eyes that did not belong to that face. 

“Dream!” Tommy screamed, seemingly forgetting his earlier anger as he threw himself towards Dream with open arms. 

[OOP HE’S AWAKE]

[Damn, he does sound the same]

[Yeah!! ccDream!]

[The fuck? What do you mean CC?]

[Is it CC for [REDACTED] cause that fits with the story]

[No, CC as in Copy cat!]

Technoblade closed his eyes and wished to whatever god or deity out there for Chat to shut up for just one day.

[Rude]

No words had been uttered after Sapnap had said his name. 

The room was practically suffocating, the only sounds being his erratic heartbeat and irregular breathing that was steadily getting shorter and shorter the longer Dream kept his eyes trained on the person who had yet to move an inch away from the door.

Dream had the first thought to jump out of the window—but quickly discarded it when reminding himself that he might as well have wished for death to come faster. He was beginning to accept the fact that respawning was really impossible in this world. For one, potions were nonexistent, and his wounds were still healing so fucking slowly even after he had eaten as much as he could (self-healing apparently didn’t translate here, either).  

But then his second thought, that should’ve been the most stupid thing he could ever think of at that moment, was return his gaze back to Sapnap.

Sapnap… He didn’t—he didn’t look any different from when he had first laid his eyes on him the first time around. And instead of the white hoodie with the flame design on the front, he was wearing a monochrome version of the green hoodie Techno would wear.

But what was different, and a very profound one at that—were the bags in his eyes. The way he looked…sad. Expression somehow struck with so much grief it startled him greatly because why— why did he look like that? Sapnap wasn’t—he wasn’t supposed to look at him with longing and misery like he was someone he thought he lost, someone he cherished with his entire heart and entrusted his loyalty to before he was taken from him. He was supposed to be holding out his axe, right now, and stalk towards him with resentment deep in his golden amber eyes lit with furious flames hiding the betrayal and anguish and hurt Dream had caused. He should be snarling, common sense thrown out of the window the moment he landed his gaze on him, the moment he knew that Dream had escaped and he was hiding somewhere else-

And Dream had to run—he had to run and hide and escape and disappear before his last canon life was taken from him and he wouldn’t be able to feel the freedom he pathetically missed, the embrace of his server, his world, his life that wasn’t constantly used and threatened and broken down and orchestrated and ruined-

The moment he saw movement, Dream gasped, the sound more choked than attempting to swallow in air before abruptly collapsing to the ground, his legs and body no longer having the strength to keep him upright. He yelped in surprise, the sudden impact sending a whole world of pain throughout his entire body and he let out a pitiful sob before he could hold it in, scrambling back against the wall just below the window when he noticed Sapnap finally taking a step forward and—all he saw was the same hatred that always appeared with such intensity when looking at him it burned like the lava that licked and melted his skin and he was back and he was trapped and he begged-

“Please-!” he cried out, pushing himself even further against the wall he wondered if his momentarily blackening vision was because he was this close to slamming his head on it so he didn’t have to be conscious to feel the blade slice through him (and not because the pressure was digging into his bandaged back and reopening the wound and gradually began to stain the sweater he was wearing and the wall he attached himself onto-). “I don’t—I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die I don’twannadiepleaseI’llbehaveI’msorry-“

“Dream! Dream- stop, please- you’re hurting yourself!” 

An agonized scream was torn from his throat when his wrists were suddenly seized by a tight hold, a sudden onslaught of tears streaming down his face as he thrashed and started kicking his legs. “No- nonono NO-“ he shrieked in full-blown panic, his vision too blurry to distinguish anything in front of him but darkness and the color of lava and the heat that scorched his body until breathing in the hot air was slowly killing off his lungs- “I didn’t—I didn’t heal- I didn’t fully heal- I can’t- please- I can’t handle another session- I’m—I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die I’m gonna die- please I don’t wanna die- “

“I’m not—I’m not gonna hurt you-!“

An anguished sob broke free, more hoarse and broken words spilling from his lips in pleas. Dream continued to struggle against his hold, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to hunch over himself as if trying to protect himself (even though he knew it turned out pointless over and over again- no one ever gave him mercy or a second chance-). Every single touch made his skin burn and set his blood on fire until he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and clogging his throat, his panic going all over the place until his instincts just wanted to survive and live—no matter how pleasant death sounded-  

“You- you say that all the time!” Dream nearly whined with another sob, more tears streaming down his face before he wheezed, his chest heavy like a sudden weight was placed and his hoarse voice was the result of every torture session he had to stay conscious through if he wanted to live another day. “It hurts- I’m gonna die stop—stopstopstop I’m sorry- “

“Dream- please, listen to me-“

But the words were muffled and felt hands releasing his wrist before moving to clutch his shoulders- and Dream was back in prison, helpless and vulnerable as he huddled back against the wall with Quackity towering over him in a crouch, his grin wide and manic and his grip getting tighter and tighter Dream was sure he could crush the malnourished muscle and bone underneath his gloved fingers. He couldn’t hear any words as he spoke, mouth moving in what were threats and promises of less pain and a little break from their daily sessions but—Dream didn’t believe a single word. 

He couldn’t hand the revival book knowledge to anyone and he knew that even if he did give it to Quackity—the pain wouldn’t go away. Physical or mental, the pain was going to stay, it made a permanent home in his body and his brain like a carved memory he couldn’t forget and he would be left on his own to drown in his thoughts and suffer in silence despite his screams echoing in the small cell-

But then he hiccuped in shock when he was pulled into an embrace, eyes snapping open despite the tears as strong and firm arms were wrapped around him, rendering him immobile and he squirmed. Whimpering in fear with his face wet with tears, Dream was ready to admit defeat, to let Quackity do whatever he wanted until he was satisfied, regardless if he was not successful at getting the information he needed—he wanted to hear the admin scream until his vocal cords were damaged beyond repair, unable to scream as he had his way with more of his blood spilling on the obsidian cell.

Except he felt a face being buried by his neck, something wet damping the bloodied uniform he wore, and-

Quackity would never hug him and cry on his shoulder. Despite all his attempts at bribing him with sweet and promising words it was nearly convincing- he would never hug him to take advantage of how touch-starved he was.

Dream gasped, feeling as if he was sucker punched in the gut as air returned to his lungs. He blinked rapidly, clearing the blurriness in his vision and panted, body trembling like a leaf and heart thudding in his ribcage like a frantic bird in a cage it almost hurt. A confused sound escaped him without permission, his mind slowly but surely registering that he wasn’t in his cell when the walls were too bright and lacking blood, he wasn’t in prison with the sight of lava nowhere to be found, and-

“I’m sorry- I’m so fucking sorry- please, please come back to me-“

His mind and breath stuttered in immediate fear at the sound of Sapnap’s voice, his first instinct telling him to push the blaze-hybrid away—but as his mind cleared past the storm of terror and panic, he heard the obvious sob the followed after the words were uttered and Dream realized they didn’t come from him.

“S-…S-Sapnap?”

Dream couldn’t help but flinch in fear when the body plastered against him tensed up, freezing when he whispered hoarsely, and started tensing up himself when Sapnap instead pressed closer and tightened his arms—but not enough to potentially hurt him or make him uncomfortable. 

He was expecting some kind of response. Something, anything—maybe a reaction. 

What he didn’t expect was another sob, a little louder as Sapnap buried his face in the admin’s neck, seeming to be crying when Dream felt the material (a sweater, he was wearing a blue sweater, not the tattered prison uniform-) getting damp.

“Sorry…” the apology was muffled in the fabric, his head slowly getting clear enough to hear how small and shaky the voice was. Dream twitched, his hands just hanging awkwardly and hesitantly over the other’s back as he continued talking, “I was being too selfish.”

Dream froze, gaping at the unexpected confession. “I don’t… I don’t understand-“ he quickly clamped his mouth shut, suddenly afraid to talk and stayed quiet. He blinked the tears away, taking a shuddering breath to gather his composure and tilted his head up to look around the room, to get familiar and remind himself that he wasn’t in prison (blinding white walls, luxurious furniture with intricate designs, the picture frames of his counterpart and his friends and the rest of the alternate versions in the mansion-).  

“We kind of…knew…that you might react this way seeing me.” Sapnap revealed slowly, the blonde furrowing his brows at the admission before he realized what he was trying to say. “I said no, at first, you know? Technoblade—he offered to help…uhh, arrange a meeting for—for us. To meet. I knew it was a bad idea- pretty sure we all know you meeting the Dream Team is a recipe for disaster-“

“Sapnap…” Dream breathed in shock, but he wasn’t finished.

“-and a really high chance of triggering bad memories just by the sight of my face but after seeing you for the first time I-“ Sapnap sucked in a sharp breath, cutting himself off and pulling away until his hands moved to the admin’s shoulder—Dream could barely hold back the gasp from escaping him. 

Sapnap looked tired. He had bags under his eyes, eyes faintly red as if he had recently cried and—he just looked heartbroken. In complete disarray. The way he was searching all over Dream’s face, making sure that he was here, he was real, even if Dream could already feel his own heart breaking that he wasn’t the same Dream he was no doubt missing to hell and back.

“I don’t fucking care anymore.” Sapnap said sharply, eyes narrowed with a hint of tears, “I don’t care if you’re another version of my brother from another world. I don’t care if my other self was the biggest jerk of a friend you could ever ask for when everything I did in our roleplay is real to you and he didn’t even bother asking for your side of the damn story. You’re still the same person from a different world. You’re still Dream, just pushed to a path no one tried getting you out of and I’m not going to—to stand around and wait and do nothing when I know another version of my best friend since childhood is suffering in another room!”

Dream almost didn’t muffle a sob, his lips trembling as his green eyes traced over the younger’s face, trying not to break down and cry in relief, in agony, of seeing his—his brother’s face again. Fingers itching to reach out and hold his face in his hands and rest their foreheads together and relish the warmth always associated with Sapnap. Even if he wasn’t the same. Even if this Sapnap belonged to a different him because he wasn’t wrong—he could still see Sapnap, the youngest of the Dream Team, passionate and loyal, without the resentment he would always see in those blazing amber eyes the longer he and George followed the unhinged admin.

“Sapnap-“ Dream choked, his vision getting blurry once again and felt the tears spilling over his cheeks once again when just the sound of his name being uttered brought a watery smile on his face. This time, he didn’t hold back the sob, “I’m—I-I’m so sorry-“

A desperate and defeated sound escaped the younger’s throat, a pleading look in his face, “Please don’t—please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong to me.”

Dream laughed, the sound scratchy and wet, shaking his head mutedly, “I know. Fuck- I know . I did nothing wrong to you, but- please-“ he sobbed, making the move first and buried his face in the younger’s chest, biting his lips harshly it would’ve bled to stop himself from wailing, “I’m sorry- I’m so fucking sorry I—I miss you so much- you and George and everyone- I d-didn’t want anyone to fight and start a damn war but they didn’t fucking listen and—fuck, no one was supposed to lose a life wh-when I created the world to protect it and the people inside it but I- Sapnap, I-“

More tears streamed down his face, another ugly sob slipping out as he was reminded of all the terrible things he had done thinking he was doing the right thing, thinking he was able to bring back peace all by himself when he only served to add more fuel to the fire until he was too late- “I did so many fucked up shit, Pandas. I didn’t want to push you and George away- I thought I was protecting you, I thought it was the most logical decision when I knew I was losing everything but I—I didn’t care- even if-“ he choked, the more he talked the more it was getting harder to breathe but he couldn’t stop- 

“Even if it meant losing our friendship until you two resented me and can’t even look at me in the eye-“

“Dream, stop,” Sapnap whispered softly, weakly, his voice trembling just like his hold on him but merely tightened his embrace around the admin as if he was scared of losing him again, scared he was going to disappear for the second time and that—that thought alone somehow hurt Dream more than anything (he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to hurt anyone from this world but he already did the moment he took his counterpart’s place!).  

“I hate this.”

Dream froze, eyes wide and his anxiety beginning to build up at the sudden thought of rejection but Sapnap wasn’t done-

“I hate how you’re suffering like this all alone.” Sapnap snapped, pulling away slightly to stare straight into his widened eyes, glassy with tears and face flushed. “Fuck roleplay and alternate universe or whatever. It’s not—It’s not fair that you have to go through this! You never caused half of the shit in the story in the first place and- yeah, we knew Dream was going to be the villain and all that but—but are you serious?! A world where our roleplay is fucking real and—and everything that happened to you- the torture- we left you a-and-“

“Pandas…” Dream whimpered, the tears continuously cascading down his blotched cheeks and no doubt he was an ugly crier but- fuck, he’s right. It’s not fair, none of it was fucking fair, and Notch—this was all he wanted. He wanted an apology, he wanted reconciliation, he wanted communication, he wanted cooperation. Why didn’t he persist harder? Why didn’t he persist hard enough to get the people on his server to listen to him for a single second without suddenly being called a villain, a tyrant, someone who’s so power-hungry to weave and play the strings however he wanted of his own server?

“Because I was afraid.” 

Sapnap clamped his jaw shut, startled by the sudden confession, yet didn’t say anything when Dream began to spill his fears- “I-I was afraid of pushing them too hard. I didn’t—I didn’t want to seem like the bad guy. I just wanted to talk, to hear their story and hope they could tone down all the chaos and damage but they didn’t listen. They didn’t want to listen and I don’t know why! I tried, Sapnap!” the blonde sobbed, curling his fists on the younger’s front and hitting his chest meekly, his strength leaving him. Useless and pathetic, like he had always been. “I tried to be reasonable. I tried to stay calm and controlled but they—they kept pushing me and then I- I gave them what they wanted. I-I took the role they wished for me to be and I couldn’t go back. Everyone ganging up on me, my belongings taken away, being mocked and used and tortured for the information I have—it hurts. Everything hurts and I— I can’t-“

A pair of emeralds with one a shade whiter and duller than the other met distressed browns, a small hiccup escaping him as his frustrations came pouring out without stopping. 

“I’m so tired, Sapnap. I’m so fucking tired I wanted to hurry up and die in that cell.” Dream confessed hoarsely, his voice giving up on him until it sounded scratchy, dry, exhausted. Falling forward and leaning his forehead against the other’s chest, closing his eyes, defeated until he was limp like a doll without its strings (and wasn’t that what he was? He was just another doll being orchestrated as he controlled everyone else before his use was gone).  

“I didn’t even care anymore, Pandas. I wanted the pain to stop. I got tired of getting hurt. But I—I couldn’t because I’m the admin, I couldn’t just- give up and die so selfishly. And that’s—I find that unfair, you know?” Dream smiled, bitter and devastated, “Tommy- your Tommy told me that I shouldn’t pin all the blame on me and I get that. No one’s perfect, it’s not just a story with bad guys and good guys, heroes and villains, everything black and white—but they never…” he sniffled, his sigh shaky and bordering on a sob, “...They never gave me a second chance. It’s not fucking fair how everyone had a chance to move on—but me? I can’t even ask to die.”

“Don’t just say that,” Sapnap’s voice cracked but didn’t appear to be bothered by it, his eyes searching all over his face as if searching for a lie, before his face crumpled into something heartbroken, hurt written all over his features that Dream wasn’t lying and he wanted to get rid of that expression (but he couldn’t—not when he was the cause in the first place-). “It’s not fair of me to say this but—I’m glad you didn’t. Because I know the other me and the other George will hate themselves knowing you died in prison, Dream.”

Dream bit his tongue from protesting, to shout that he was wrong, “How do you know that?” he bit out harshly, his voice rough from crying too much. “How do you know they won’t be happy knowing that the cause of their problems, the one who drifted the team apart, was dead and left to rot in the prison he commissioned to be made?” 

“I just know it.” He said firmly, confident that he was right (and it was painfully reminiscent of the Sapnap he knew, in happier days when Sapnap would trust his gut to save their asses out of trouble-), “And I can guarantee that my counterpart is gonna break. He’s me, Dream. Even if our worlds are different, even if we grew up differently with different rules—I know me. And I know how much I care about you that I can’t just…brush off your death like that. How do you think I’ll feel knowing one of my in-game fiance has been torturing my brother not by blood for months? Nonstop? That the so-called Warden, one of our closest friends, was allowing the torture to happen and didn’t tell anyone? You’re the villain, sure, you have to be punished and reflect on your actions—but did they even give you the fucking chance? Like you said- they didn’t, did they?”

Dream opened his mouth, unsure why he felt the sudden need to defend them that they were being reasonable and he couldn’t fault them for taking such a cruel and inhumane path of justice, but his tongue refused to move when deep inside…he knew what they did wasn’t out of protectiveness for the other SMP members. It wasn’t to make sure he was contained and needed twenty-four hour surveillance, so he didn’t manipulate or hurt anyone else and drag them down—but to feel as if they were doing something right. That when their actions come to light, they didn’t do anything wrong, that maybe, just maybe it could’ve gone differently, but their reasons made sense. 

Because they were doing it to Dream. The scapegoat. Like it always had been. Always easy to pin the blame on him, on someone who owned the server, the most powerful of them all with the exception of Technoblade.

He stayed quiet, lips sealed shut, and somehow felt small under the knowing and saddened look from the younger man. Sapnap sighed softly, “I know how your cell looks, Dream. It’s nothing like the others.” He started slowly, eyes drifting down and stared at the bandages wrapped around his neck that were covering the scars there that implied so many things. Dream resisted the urge to cover it up with his hands. “Your cell is tightly secured, literally inescapable and specifically made for someone like you. Sam doesn’t even give you decent food on a good day and what even is a good day, huh? Funny how we thought that was a good angsty plot point when Sam came up with it and our Dream agreed—now I feel like throwing up. I can’t—god, fuck, I can’t even imagine how you managed to survive nearly half a year in that scorching cell!”

Sapnap gave him a serious and grim stare, eyes burning with anger or tears, the blonde wasn’t sure, “How they treated you is unfair, Dream. It’s not justice, it's an unforgivable abuse of power and authority! Forget our fucking roleplay and story- you got tortured for months and no knew and bothered to stand up to Sam that they’re not treating you human being who needed help—they’re treating you like a wild animal that needed to be disciplined and punshed at all times! Do you know how messed up that is?!” he nearly screamed, getting frustrated and close to tears once again, “Do you know how that’s what everyone has been thinking about? Even if they don’t say it out loud? Every time Technoblade or Tommy comes down to tell us how you’re doing—that’s all we’re thinking about! That their friend, and my brother, was practically mutilated and dehumanized and neglected and abandoned in another life! Another universe entirely! It’s fucked up, Dream!”

A few tears had spilled over during his ranting, leaving the admin shocked to the core while new waves of tears were already falling from his eyes, dumbfounded as he watched his former best friend’s counterpart hunch over and cry, trying so hard to keep his sobs and sniffles at bay. He bit his lip to stop it from trembling, slowly removing the loosening hands on his shoulder and gently pulled Sapnap to him, tucking his chin atop his head whilst the younger burrowed into his neck, wrapping his own arms around the taller’s torso tightly.

“I’m-“ I’m sorry, was what Dream wanted to say. But somehow, he had a feeling Sapnap wasn’t going to like it, maybe further upsetting him, and took a deep, shaky breath before relaxing entirely, his arms wound around his shoulders, firm and grounding (and maybe he was grounding himself, too). “I’m f-fine now, aren’t I?” he said softly with a faint huff, smiling fondly when Sapnap merely chuckled, the sound a little bit broken but relieved all the same. “Thank you.”

Sapnap stilled slightly before his posture went slack again, getting comfortable in his comforting embrace, “Wh-what for?” he scoffed lightheartedly, sniffling, “All I did was trigger bad memories and start ranting like crazy. I should be more considerate of your well-being—mentally, too.”

“Exactly why I’m thanking you.” Dream murmured, tilting his head to rest his cheek on the brown strands and smiled, recalling the younger’s words and allowed the warmth of everyone’s kindness to blanket him instead of rejecting it. “You and everyone else. For being so considerate and welcoming despite the fact that I’ve yet to step foot outside this room- and to apologize again for bringing everyone unnecessary pain. I want to tell them this, too, but I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for that. No, Sapnap, listen,” he intervened before the other could protest when he felt the slight shifting movement on his neck of a jaw opening, wanting to say his piece before Sapnap could, once again, remind him that he wasn’t at fault whatsoever, “You literally lost a friend and he got replaced with me. I may be the same Dream, just in a different world, but it doesn’t mean none of you are hurting. I want… I want to apologize and thank everyone, including you, for being considerate. For- I don’t know, getting used to me, I guess. Even if none of you owe me anything and shouldn’t feel obligated to.

“It’s…” Sapnap swallowed, sniffling briefly, before flashing him a watery but relieved smile, “It’s really nice to know you’re not exactly as different as our Dream. You’re just…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

“Broken and fucked up?” Dream unhelpfully finished it for him, chuckling silently when he got an unimpressed look and jab at his arm at his response. “Listen, Sapnap-“

“You can keep calling me Pandas, you know.” Sapnap pouted, and the blonde couldn’t stop the fond and wistful smile from forming on his face (ignoring the pinch of longing and grief, the simple times when his Sapnap loved hearing him call him Pandas-).

“This is really shitty timing but-“ Dream raised his hand, his smile strained and shaky as Sapnap’s warm face suddenly went pale with horror, his eyes widening at the sight of crimson blood staining the baby blue sleeve of the sweater he wore. Glancing down, Dream knew he finally noticed the rest of the blood pooling below them, coloring the sweater red around his stomach area and some of it got soaked into Sapnap’s black hoodie. He didn’t notice because the black hid the redness a little too well.

“I think I reopened my injuries while I panicked. And I’m already feeling lightheaded.”

“Dream-!”

The admin would’ve fallen over to the floor if it wasn’t for Sapnap immediately catching him, a small gasp of pain escaping him as his body came into contact with another solid one and cried out in agony at what felt like swords repeatedly stabbing him everywhere around his body. His vision blurred with black spots appearing every now and then, his chest constricting and breathing rapidly picking up pace. Dream panted, lifting a shaky hand behind Sapnap’s back and grimaced at the sight of blood splattered on the palm of his scarred hand.

He blearily blinked up when he was gently pushed away to rest on the wall, limp and suddenly numb as he stared up at Sapnap who was kneeling in front of him, eyes panicked and hands hovering his shoulders hesitantly. He was shaking, terrified, and Dream, wondering if it was because of the slight blood loss, managed to plaster a warm smile at him.

“It’s not that bad, Pandas. The blood is coming from my back because I…” he trailed off, head nodding forward but quickly catching himself after his surroundings flickered black. Dream clenched his eyes tightly, letting out a shaky exhale, “I… I slammed against the… the wall a bit too hard. Could you…?” he tilted his head back, eyelids feeling heavy al of a sudden. “Could you get…Technoblade, maybe? Don’t… Don’t tell…Tommy…”

Tommy was a sweet kid. He wouldn’t want to worry him too much and drive him into a panicked frenzy knowing one of his idol was literally bleeding to death. And the same thing could be really said to everyone else, especially Techno (the poor guy had to deal with his shit since day one- he had to find a way to repay him, and soon-to-be everyone else, one way or another). Even if the older never openly expressed it, Techno couldn’t hide the constant worry in his eyes, in his voice every time he asked if there was something Dream needed, or the way his hands would twitch and react immediately when he winced or coughed dryly after laughing loudly for a few seconds. Wheezing was more painful than before and he didn’t appreciate that.

He did miss laughing. He almost forgot he could laugh as much as he wanted now, at least in his time here. In this friendlier world. If only his body didn’t spasm and scream at him to stop laughing every time he did, though. It’s a bitch to deal with and honestly- he would only worry Techno and Tommy further when they had their hawk-like gazes trained on him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

It’s nice of them, but he hoped he wouldn’t be treated like he was glass.

“Hey- h-hey, Dream, don’t—don’t close your eyes! Fuck- shit- why didn’t I notice before-“ Sapnap cursed under his breath before shooting up, looking very reluctant to leave him alone but he curled his hands into fists and set his lips in a grim line, “I’m gonna get Phil- just, don’t pass out. But don’t focus on anyone else, either. If we—bring more than one other than Phil and Technoblade.”

So that he wouldn’t panic if he saw another familiar face while he was in a rather vulnerable state, no matter how much he hated to admit. Smart.

Dream merely gave him a mock-salute that took a little too much effort than necessary before leaning his head back on the wall with a sigh once Sapnap ran out of the room. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and instead look up at the ceiling, half-blurry and half-destinguishable. At least as best as he could in his current state.

He glanced down, frowning at the amount of blood pooling behind him and staining the floor and carpet that had been replaced when he arrived here. Sighing, he mentally apologized for creating yet another bloody mess. 

When he heard the telltale sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs, Dream decided that he had enough for the entire day (it’s still noon, too, which was unfortunate because he hoped to listen to Tommy ramble more about what he did and showcase ridiculous ideas, or just watch the teen bicker with Techno again-). It felt like he fought in another war but his emotional state was front and center.

Regardless, a small, content smile formed on his lips as he closed his eyes, letting his mind and consciousness drift off.

At least he got to see Sapnap again. 

He missed his little brother so much.

Chapter Text

“Technoblade, is it really a good idea to let them…talk?” was Sam’s slightly hesitant voice breaking the silence in the living room once Punz got him to stop sulking inside his room to get some lunch. 

Phil looked up from where he was cooking in the kitchen with Niki, finding Sam taking a seat on the other couch, looking at Techno who was settling down on one of the dining table chairs (Punz and Quackity were sitting by the table with Techno, Wilbur was taking the loveseat all to himself with his guitar being tweaked again, Fundy and Foolish were practicing more redstone builds for the latter to learn upstairs, Puffy was sitting by the couch finding good songs to play in the background before eventually choosing the Minecraft soundtrack, the children were on the carpet floor with the coffee table moved aside for them to settle on the wide space, and Eret was sunbathing outside by the pool with Jack accompanying him). The spectacle-wearing man gave the greenette a side-glance, shrugging one shoulder before sipping on his coffee. Phil motioned for Niki to continue cutting the vegetables when she gave him a questioning look why he stopped, deciding to listen in to the conversation happening in the common room (or the big ass living room Dream really went his way out finding and affording. Selfless little shit, him and the lot of them).

“In my honest opinion? Not really,” Techno deadpanned, and Phil huffed a silent chuckle when that quick response earned a couple of choked laughter that were either muffled or not. “Compared to Tommy, I doubt Dream’s goin’ to handle seein’ his so-called best friend who threatened to take away his last canon life—kind of a dumb a idea, actually.”

Sam tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing as he brushed a strand of dyed moss hair away from his eyes (it would never not be funny how ridiculous he looked with green hair, but now it was less funny when there could be a chance Sam’s counterpart in the Dream SMP world actually had green hair—more panic for Dream in that case. Great).  

“But…?” 

Techno blinked, then sighed, “But I thought it’d be faster to get him to adapt. That we’re not- you know…” he made a vague gesture with his free hand but didn’t dare continue that train of thought, something akin to hurt flashing in his eyes before eventually grimacing.

“That we’re not the same people he knows, we know.” Ranboo finished for Techno, sitting by the floor with Tommy and Tubbo, completing the Benchtrio as they played whatever the hell the children were playing. He frowned, running a hand through his hair, “Do you think he’ll get any better? None of us are, like, capable of helping a man who literally got tortured endlessly. Not before he got betrayed and stuff.”

Tubbo scrunched his face, lowering the Uno cards he was holding (ah, so they were playing Uno. Phil’s surprised none of them caused a ruckus yet, considering it was the Benchtrio playing a card game against each other), “He’s like a war veteran. Even if he’s Dream, he’s still—not. Dream, I mean. We can’t even take him to an actual therapist because that’ll raise too much suspicion.”

He wasn’t wrong- if there was a chance of both Dreams matching their profile and DNA, no one was certain other people would not notice how the blonde looked like a man who had just returned from war, a war veteran. He had too many scars, and his wounds were too fresh and still too slow from fully healing. Just a single glance at the wounds done on his back alone would make anyone feel sick to the stomach with all the messy and jagged wounds that looked as if a knife was used to tear the skin open, carved carelessly with the clear intention to inflict pain.

(Phil was going to ignore the fact that he knew they were caused by shears. It was well-known in the fandom and the lore that Quackity had used shears at some point-)

“I’d say it’s better he went back than to stay here with familiar faces he doesn’t want to see.” It was surprisingly George who spoke up. Phil looked over to see him sitting on a bean bag not too far from the TV but keeping a distance—which earned the short male confused glances considering he was always stuck to someone and conversing about whatever, but he could understand why.

Puffy didn’t spare him a glance when she said, rather resignedly, “You know you’re basically acting like your counterpart, right, George?” she said bluntly, her tone and choice of words indicating she was bitter but her gaze was sad despite staring blankly at the TV. “You’re avoiding him by sleeping more often or trapping yourself in your room. None of us are dumb, George- but you’re gonna have to confront him sooner or later whether you like it or not. We’re not sure how long he’s staying here—if he even is able to go back to his world and honestly we’d rather he didn’t.” This time, she tilted her head to stare at the Brit, lips pursed, “We can’t just…ignore him forever. And if he does get used to seeing all of us, how would it make him feel knowing that you’re ignoring him just like how your other self keeps on sleeping and never visits him in prison?”

“At least I’m not the one whose character is canonically a parental figure to Dream then disowns him and proceeds to adopt another son without a second thought.” George snapped back in a heartbeat, face set to a scowl before faltering when Puffy had a look of shock and hurt on her face. 

“That’s a low blow, mate.” Phil pointed out tersely, slightly disappointed George was willing to go that far just because he was guilty as shit.

Everyone knew by now that the reason George never tried seeing Dream, even after knowing Sapnap could, was because he recalled the way he treated his friend in the story. Phil had to inwardly wince at that, their fallout was the worst out of everyone in the server. Even worse story-wise. Sapnap’s counterpart was there, too, but they all knew he secretly still couldn’t fully hate Dream. At least, they hoped he didn’t (he was still a different person entirely), especially when they weren’t sure the Dream Team in that world had grown together, which included Sapnap and Dream the most before George was added to complete the iconic trio of the internet.

George basically had the most impact on Dream and their friendship as a whole. Phil couldn’t imagine how hurt Dream was when George and Sapnap thought he hated them.

It was obvious the guilt was eating him alive for saying those exact words to his best friend. His soulmate. His brother. His family. 

And the outcome was leaving Dream to rot in a tiny cell surrounded by obsidian and lava, all his relations cut off except one, with no one to turn to and trust after everything he had risked for the server. Dream was being tortured, inhumane things being done to him every single day while thinking everyone still hated him. He might be thinking that’s why he barely got any visitors, and the thought of the young blonde resigning to his never-ending hell yet continuously kept alive for information only he knew was just…

That was already fucked up. From what he remembered from their lore, it sounded as if Dream wasn’t even allowed to die, and he almost couldn’t stomach the fact that every torture method that was idly written on a piece of paper without a lot of graphic details was a lot more real for their new guest.

Phil didn’t think a dumb and entertaining Minecraft roleplay could sound fucked up when you add reality to it. Suddenly, it didn’t sound like fun and games. Even more so that said roleplay existed in a different world (he squashed down the thought that he made it inadvertently canon Wilbur was his son, or their relations was that of father and son, and he had killed him in another life causing him to lose his memories in the form of a ghost with clueless smiles trying to make people happy. As if he wasn’t an unhinged leader who lost himself for the sake of his country, not the people in it-).

George sighed, face softening and sent the woman an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You were new when you joined the story, and you were already getting into the role of having connections with Dream within the lore.”

Puffy grimaced, pacing the remote down to rub the back of her neck, “Not the best move on my part if you think about it. I wasn’t that close to Dream yet and I jokingly called him my duckling.” 

Definitely not, when the fandom collectively agreed she had adopted Dream as her son in-game, and neither party agreed nor denied the idea. Probably to add more to the angst and shit, but it’s less funny now than before.

“It was cute, though.” Niki added with a smile that was reassuring, and Puffy returned it with her own before sighing.

“You’re not wrong- I thought so, too. Me and Dream were giggling about it when the stream was over. Now?” she groaned, running her fingers through her hair, “It’s gonna be so fucking awkward for me to talk with him, guys. I’m canonically his adoptive mom, but we’re not that far off with age. I didn’t do much lore and stuff with our relationship and history since I did just join not too long after that, so it’s not that…set in stone compared to their world, and- I don’t know, I feel like I’ll just… I’ll just break his heart. Because I’m not even…” Puffy’s voice got quieter and softer the more she talked until she was almost mumbling her words, eyes falling to the ground as a somber silence followed after. 

It wasn’t the first time she had voiced out her worries of the other Dream meeting her or vice versa, but it was the first time in five days since she openly admitted that, if the majority headcanons were true, she wasn’t going to be the same person who shared a familial kind of bond with Dream. 

Phil wondered how much it would actually hurt for Dream. That a parental figure of his wasn’t even close to being one in this world and more of a sibling than a mother (that was assuming Dream didn’t have any other parents in that world, but with Clay always chattering how the fandom liked making him an orphan or had a shitty relationship with parents, Phil wasn’t going to try asking if that headcanon was true-). That it was all an act, for shits and giggles without giving it a lot of thought. The biggest, gaping difference of any relationships Dream would have in this world would just be Puffy and maybe even Foolish.

How would Dream feel knowing that he was practically disowned and neglected by his mother, who was unwilling to listen or side with him to gravitate towards Tommy, a teen she wasn’t even that close to in the lore other than seeing him as a child being used, watched her so-called son fall and surrender to everyone who hated or resented his existence without batting an eye, and adopted another son, Foolish right after without hesitation. And it was all an act because the three of them didn’t have an actual bond akin to that of a family, of a mother and son, in this world. They were merely friends, and they had only gotten closer because of Dream’s little surprise mansion hangout.

Would it hurt him? He knew it was all roleplay in this world, but how much would it hurt him was the question Phil, and surely everyone else, didn’t want to ask. 

Everyone stayed silent, the admission suddenly making everyone unable to break the silence and no one dared to try—even make eye contact. Phil watched them all silently from where he was standing behind the island counter, frowning at the guilt and uncertain looks on their faces. He wanted to say that their feelings were misplaced, that they shouldn’t exactly feel bad for a man they weren’t responsible for in any way whatsoever—but that would be insensitive and hypocritical of him. He’d sound like an arsehole, especially when half of them were extremely close with the Dream they knew, and the other half were already on their way there.

He, too, was rather fond of him. It was already well-known he was like a father-figure of some sorts to nearly everyone in the Dream SMP, and, outside of their roleplay, he had to admit they weren’t off the mark. He wasn’t as close or had a lot of interactions with Dream, more so on the SMP than off-camera, but like everyone else, he got closer during their time being crammed into one building. They hadn’t done a lot of YouTube or streaming content for the past three weeks, more busy trying to make memories they were never going to forget as fellow creators of a literal block game and as friends who managed to find each other because of said block game.

Dream was a little shit like everyone else. At least in Phil’s eyes. But he was just as sweet and caring, maybe a little too much because he didn’t fully plan their little vacation hangout and just booked the mansion online and dropped the bomb on them the next day timidly asking if they would like to come visit or stay for a few days after he was sure their schedules lined up. Like he didn’t think of the possibility of getting rejected and now that was all he could think of because he thought he was too pushy and too much.

He was wrong, of course. While some couldn’t join, like Karl (because of MrBeast), Purpled, Ponk, Slimecicle, Schlatt (he wanted to but declined since his schedule was still busy but would pop in the server every now and then), Alyssa and Callahan (they were really close with Dream and his inner circle of Dream Team, but kindly declined for personal reasons and made up for it by making more appearances in a private Minecraft world they made for everyone to play in without having to stream for lore), Ant (plus his boyfriend), and Skeppy (he had a lot of videos to plan), the rest were quite eager to accept the generous and impulsive offer. Most reprimanded Dream half-heartedly for not telling them sooner so they could help pay the rent, but being the endearing idiot he was, completely forgot and even tried to pay for their tickets.

They managed to get him to not do that. Christ, Dream- man’s willing to pay everything so it’s free for everyone when they packed their bags. He probably had the most income out of all of them combined with his rapid growth of fame, but come on, mate. 

Still, it was funny seeing and hearing how they all sound offended in the Discord call when Dream wanted to pay for everything. Even Sapnap, his roommate, was offended he was never asked to help with the payment despite being made aware of his plans to gather the Dream SMP members together.

Phil moved his glance to his surrogate son, no doubt the others following suit, when he suddenly strummed the strings of his guitar. Wilbur wasn’t looking at anyone, his chocolate gaze simply trained at his little instrument absentmindedly, “You know, if there’s anyone he won’t like seeing the most- it might be me.” He said in a hushed tone, seemingly dejected and regretful, and Phil wanted nothing more than to walk over and lend him a comforting hand.

Techno might’ve read his mind as he placed a hand on the Brit’s shoulder, his frown small but eyes soft with sad understanding, “I’m sure we’ve already talked about how none of this is our fault. He’s from an alternate universe, Wil. Your actions may have been similar but it’s not directly because of you but the other Wilbur. Who, by the way, sounds like an incredibly shitty human bein’ if he actually did all those actions that are only roleplay to us. His actions are his own, and you didn’t have a hand in it. It was planned, and you planned everything with Dream. There’s a difference.”

Wilbur smiled wryly, “True. But it doesn’t really help when, considering the rest of the lore that happened in the SMP with Dream helping me co-write it—I technically pushed Dream into becoming the villain without giving him a choice in the first place, if you’ve forgotten. I almost… No, I did paint him as the villain. And everyone believed it. It’s not roleplay in their world.” His smile faltered to something strained, “Who would want to meet the person that caused their downfall in the first place?”

Techno opened his mouth to say something but eventually closed it, lips pursed into a thin line as a frown formed. 

“I miss Dream…” Quackity’s quiet voice spoke up after the brief silence, eyes unseeing on his phone as he tugged the blanket around him closer and tighter, even if the room wasn’t that cold (it was still in the middle of summer).  

“We all do, Big Q.” Tubbo muttered softly, and he didn’t appear to be paying attention to the game he was playing, same with Ranboo and Tommy. “We all do.”

Quackity made a face, upset, “If Wilbur thinks Dream can’t meet the person who made him the villain, then he shouldn’t ever meet the person who has his tormenter’s face. Ever.” He stressed the word before anyone could try to placate him, hunching over the table as he stopped trying to use his phone entirely (he must have been trying to distract himself, like what everyone else was doing but wouldn’t admit it). “I know all the torture methods I came up with, guys. Even if they’re vague- you know the details of what should be done and what had to be applied. He won’t—he won’t be able to recover. He’s been feeling more safe, sort of, like- no more danger of being surrounded by his enemies, since he’s been here in a really, really different world, and I might—I might ruin everything.”

“You’re not alone in that regard, Quackity.” Sam added sadly, settling on the other end of the couch Puffy was on, leaning back and tilting his head up to absently stare at the ceiling. “Maybe I’m not as bad as you- well, I still sound like a lousy Warden—but I still did a lot of messed up things to Dream. In the…” he trailed off, swallowing nervously and Phil could tell he was trying to remind himself that he didn’t actually do any of those things to Dream in this world (Christ, saying this world and that world was still unbelievable to him), ”In the roleplay. I- I don’t know- beat him up when I feel like it or had a bad day, take away his food privileges until I practically starved him to death and maybe even fed him poisoned or rotten potatoes-“

Sam cut himself off with a frustrated groan, propping himself on his knees and buried his face in his hands, a shaky exhale escaping him. “This is messed up.”

“On so many levels, yes.” Wilbur agreed dryly, releasing a sigh himself-

“TECHNO!”

Phil nearly dropped the plate he was holding to serve the food, snapping his head up to see Sapnap’s wide and panicked eyes, and felt something drop in his stomach. While everyone tensed up, a few already standing up because Sapnap was supposed to be with Dream, only Techno appeared to be decently composed, albeit hiding the immense worry in his eyes as he twisted his body on the chair slightly to look at the Texan (being the first to see Dream, it wasn’t hard to tell Techno grew a little protective of a more broken version of his rival and was unable to do anything to help).

“Did somethin’ happen-“

Sapnap made frantic gestures with his hands cutting off whatever words Techno was going to say further, and honestly he was giving everyone a little more anxiety. “Dream, he- well, he’s fine! I managed to calm him down and fucking god it hurt seeing him cry like that—b-but while he was panicking earlier- he- Techno, he’s bleeding! A lot-!”

At those words, Phil finally noticed the dark stain on the younger’s black Dream hoodie. If Sapnap hadn’t mentioned blood whatsoever, he would’ve easily assumed he spilled something on himself—and now he could feel his stomach churning when the crimson stain was more visible on his sweatpants that were coincidentally hidden underneath the hem of the hoodie, and his hands were smudged red as if he had wiped them away when the sleeves weren’t covering them. 

Nothing more was needed to be said as Techno bolted up from the dining table and already halfway up the stairs. Phil could see the rest already prepared to follow suit, even George, Wilbur, and Quackity despite expressing how much they didn’t want to see Dream and vice versa—which was a bad idea if Dream was still conscious and in such a vulnerable state-

“Guys, hold on- don’t follow them!”

They all froze at his words, looking like deers caught in headlights and had it been any other time, it would’ve made him double over from laughing. Now? Wasn’t really the best time after hearing that their guest was bleeding out. “I’ll go. Sam, prepare the first aid just in case we need it and your help.”

“What’s going on?”

Was the sound of Punz’s confused voice after the door leading to the front yard where the pool was closed shut, no doubt Eret was right behind him and just as confused. They were probably done relaxing sunbathing before it got too hot—but Phil didn’t bother sparing them a glance before he was ascending upon the stairs right behind Sapnap and Techno.

He could already hear Sam hesitantly explaining it to them but if there was anything else said, Phil didn’t hear it when he reached the first floor.

“-the hell do you mean he slammed against the wall?!”

“He didn’t see me when looking at me, Technoblade! Just- fuck, how do you stop the bleeding?!”

“How am I supposed to know-“

Phil entered the room to see Sapnap and Techno bickering (with a lot of panic) on the opposite side of the unconscious blonde man. If it wasn’t for the blood turning Wilbur’s baby blue sweater red, he would’ve thought Dream was just sleeping with how content and peaceful he looked, lacking the pain and discomfort that usually marred his face whenever they changed his bandages while he slept. 

But to his utter relief, Dream didn’t seem to be in any danger of possible blood loss, from what he could tell. He wasn’t that pale, and the puddle of blood was small and the stream seemed to have slowed significantly. It was probably a reopened wound from a hard force being applied too hard. Dream was also breathing fine like he was just asleep, so maybe he didn’t fall unconscious from blood loss at all…

“Boys,” Phil called with a fond and exasperated smile, watching the two stop and whip their heads toward him, both holding onto Dream. “He’s just sleeping. Or he passed out.”

Techno blinked before sighing, staring down at the amount of blood in distaste while Sapnap gaped, uncertain as he shifted closer to Dream. “So it’s… it’s not from, uh- blood loss or… or something like that?” he asked slowly, hesitant, before deflating like a balloon when Phil simply nodded. “Thank god-“ Sapnap leaned his head on the slumbering blonde’s shoulder, grasping his hand tightly before letting go. Dream scrunched his nose at the sudden weight before his face calmed, head tilting to the side and continued to sleep.

“We’re gonna have to replace the bandages, though.”

“I can-“

Phil raised a hand before Techno could finish, giving him a warm smile, “It’s alright, mate. Since Dream’s sleeping right now, I can get Sam to help me.” He inclined his head towards the bed, “You two should carry him to the bed. We’ll be back shortly but try not to jostle him too much to rouse him awake. I’d have to kick Sam out just in case.”

Techno gave him a mock salute before crouching and nudging Sapnap’s head with a finger to get him moving, well aware Sapnap heard what their orders were. Before Phil left the room, he decided to idle by the door, muffling his laughter behind his hand when the two stared at each other sparks could be seen, eyes narrowed, and then Sapnap nodded. Techno frowned, cocking his head towards Dream, and the younger pursed his lips with a grumble. The older rolled his eyes with no heat and mumbled something under his breath before they heaved Dream up, hands on his hand and underneath his knees like a pseudo bridal carry with the blonde in the middle (who surprisingly stayed motionless, head lolling to Sapnap’s shoulder and sighing quietly in his sleep). They carefully laid him on the bed, Sapnap making a face at the blood stains beginning to spread on the very pastel bed sheets that they no doubt had to replace yet again while Techno made sure Dream was in a comfortable position.

…Their Dream was the reason for this non-verbal communication, really. It started off as a dumb joke because the Dream Team did it so effortlessly, but now everyone wanted in and now they just nod or make weird hand gestures that had the older man staring blankly in confusion for a good minute.

Phil was starting to feel old. He didn’t have any kids yet but it felt like he had adopted more than ten. He was pretty sure no one was over twenty-five yet.

Fucking hell.

He loved these annoying little shits. Kristen would’ve loved them more but she decided to stay back (hopefully one day Dream could reach out to her to stay when they do this again. It’s nice).

When he reached the stairs, he took a couple of steps down just enough to grab into the rails and lean forward to see the others lounging around the living room anxiously (only Foolish and Fundy were still missing. Still in their rooms and most likely unaware of the current situation).  

“Sam? Gonna need your help patching Dream up, mate,”

The said man perked up immediately, a new box of medkit in his arms as he strode towards the older man. Once he was close, Sam’s features pinched to worry, nearly fidgeting where he stood. “Is he okay?” he asked slowly, eyes a little desperate and filled with concern.

Phil smiled sadly, Sam was one of Dream’s oldest and closest friends and it must hurt for him to know he wouldn’t be able to help him compared to Techno because he had the face of one of Dream’s main tormenter’s who abused their power against a vulnerable and unarmed prisoner. It might be different for Quackity because he was genuinely good friends with Dream, but for Sam—they had been friends for years. 

Everyone could tell Sam was trying to make it seem like he was bothered and that it was understandable for the other Dream to fear him, but no one was fooled. Sam was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything to lend a hand to another version of his dear friend.

Phil inwardly sighed, he didn't admit how he felt useless. He was the eldest in the Dream SMP, and yes, the majority of the other members were already adults, but they seemed so young to him. It showed the moment they discovered Dream, the person who brought them together in the first place and created bonds from a mere server—was gone and replaced by his counterpart who brought them together in his world…but not for a happy reason.

Phil felt like he failed, somehow.

Plastering a smile on his face and pushing down those intrusive thoughts, Phil gave Sam a pat on the back, “Dream’s fine. He just reopened his wounds but he didn’t pass out from blood loss.” He reassured as best as he could, “Sapnap mentioned he probably helped Dream through a bad panic attack just from seeing him, and it’s most likely he passed out from mental and emotional exhaustion.”

Sam nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but relaxed when hearing that Dream passed a bad relapse. “That’s… That’s good.” He murmured, but it seemed to be directed more to himself than to Phil.

Phil patted his back again before making his way upstairs.

“Come on, let’s get Dream patched up.”

“…Yeah.”

Dream blinked and easily caught Tommy as the teen threw himself at him. He wrapped his arms around the trembling teen as he buried his face in his shoulder, hands clutching the front of his hoodie and held on for dear life. Dream chuckled softly and ran a hand through the teen’s hair comfortingly. He didn’t know what happened after he passed out but he did know one thing.

Adrenaline was a bitch and he hated being in a rush. 

He’s never doing that again, ever. He’d rather die than feel his veins burning as if the world passed in slow motion. The feeling was foreign when he himself was tasked to run and exert effort—he was too used to feeling adrenaline in his veins during a manhunt. It made his head spin and his stomach flips over and over again despite allowing him to focus on his speed, agility and strategy even more. Even with all the good that it gave him, it still made him want to puke his guts out and rip his hair to shreds. 

Those feelings, however, subsided when he felt Tommy squeeze his waist and reminded him of where he was. He blinked and looked down at the blonde teen he was currently petting. He lifted his hand up and gave the teen a sheepish smile, an apology ready on his lips when his attention was taken by a sudden cough. He snapped his head up and pulled Tommy closer, in a sense of protectiveness and wariness. Then, his eyes meet blood red and pink hair and he almost melted in relief. 

“Oh, you managed to-” Dream started before he was abruptly cut off. 

“Fuck that!” Tommy shouted suddenly, pulling away from their hug to stand and tower Dream with his crossed arms. Dream blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden shout from the tenn. When he met the blonde’s eyes, it was almost like they sparked with life—and anger and fire as he stared right back at him. It made his next words die in his throat as he instinctively backed up, his back hitting the couch, “You- you fucking bastard! You self-sacrificial little shit! Why the fuck did you do that, huh? Why did you try and—try and lead Sapnap away!?”

Dream blinked as he noticed how Tommy’s eyes glazed over with tears—whether in anger or something else, Dream doesn’t know. He wondered just a little bit about how different this Tommy really was from his own because right now—right at this moment, he was no different from the bright kid who looked up to him back at home. It made his breath hitch to his throat in realization, he had seen too much of his Tommy in this war torn teen that he forgot this Tommy can take care of himself. Even so, he didn’t regret his choice and he was going to make that clear to Tommy. 

It might’ve been stupid in hindsight—especially after realizing he could’ve easily been killed at that last moment before Technoblade had stepped in. Despite that, he knew that was the best plan he could’ve come up with at the time. When all he understood was that Sapnap was aiming for him and he needed to keep Tommy and Ranboo safe. It might’ve clouded his judgement and forced him to choose a dangerous strategy but he was fine now and that was what matters. He had trusted Tommy and Ranboo and without them he would’ve died (or not, he didn’t know how much effect this world has on him. Not yet.).  

But now, when he was faced with the scrunched up face of Tommy, on the verge of crying if his glazed eyes were any indication, he started to doubt his own strategy. 

Did Tommy not find it okay? Did he mess up somehow? Should he have chosen something else? Should he have taken more time to think about it-

These questions floated endlessly in his mind and it made him dizzy. So, instead of asking his questions, he clamped his mouth shut and let Tommy continue with his tirade. It was only fair to the teen to do that. He’d listen to the blonde and give his own opinion after he listened. That was how healthy communication worked, after all. Not like anyone on this goddamn server knew what healthy communication was like. 

“You- Ranboo and I could’ve handled it fine! We could’ve helped you and- and- you almost fucking died, Dream!” Tommy hissed, his voice going higher and higher as his fear and anger reached its peak. Dream swallowed and licked his lips, watching as Tommy glared heatedly at him with his hands clenched painfully at his side—shaking slightly. “You almost died! I didn’t need protecting, you did! You fucking did and you—you put yourself in danger! Ranboo and I were fine! You didn’t have to fucking protect us, we’re not children!”

Tommy’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the tears finally pushing itself out of his eyes as he sniffed. Dream startled at the sudden admission at the end, sounding more like a plea of desperation than a solid argument. He blinked at the teen before him, hands and shoulders shaking as he let out ragged breaths. For a quick moment, Dream wondered what the other’s thought but he couldn’t find it in himself to look around the room—solely focused on Tommy as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. Then, his mouth opened before he could think-

“You’re not a child.”

“What?” Tommy snapped, head snapping up to meet his eyes properly. “Wha- what did you say?”

“You’re not a child.” Dream repeated, this time louder and bolder. He straightened up and met Tommy’s eyes. He wasn’t lying. Standing in front of him wasn’t a child—no, he never saw the blonde as one. Instead, he saw him as a powerful and capable person. He was sure he even slipped that in when he roleplayed with his Tommy. He never saw Tommy as a child but someone mature and capable because Tommy wouldn’t have gotten to where he was if he was a child. “You… this holds true more for you than my Tommy but- you were never a child. You never got that chance and calling you a child now just… it demeans everything you’ve encountered and paints you as incapable.”

Because wasn’t that the truth. Children were always seen as naive and incapable of their own feats. Children were painted as the peak of immaturity with the need of a helping hand of a mature adult to guide them through what they need to do. Children were portrayed as people who cannot make choices on their own as they were unaware of the consequences said choices had—along with the weight of said choices. Children were not war veterans who had gone through fights and abuse. Children were not capable warriors who could easily slice someone in half without a second thought. 

These were things everyone understood. Older people could be branded as childish for their immature actions and incapability of understanding the weight of their actions. Older people could be called childish for their responses and actions that were akin to a child. They could be called that but they were never children. No one in this goddamn server was a child, whether Dream liked it or not. Tommy especially. 

He was more than just a child anymore. He was a warrior, a fighter, a war veteran (no matter how much Dream hated thinking about it and he was the cause-). He was many things but a child was not something Dream would think of first. Yes, Dream wanted to protect him, but not because Tommy was…incapable or something. He wanted to protect him because he cared. He wanted to protect him because he didn’t want to see him die—not because of some false sense of superiority over him as an adult. 

Tommy was not a child and Dream knew that fact better than most. 

“You’re not incapable.” Dream added, standing up now as he faced Tommy. He ignored the clear way Tommy was trembling and how he had bitten his lips as the tears flowed more freely. He ignored that in favor of meeting Tommy in the eyes and telling him what he needed to hear—something that was delayed for a long time. The one thing he knew Tommy wanted to hear for so long. “You’re not a child but a very capable person who needs everyone to see that. You have experienced a lot of things and shouldn’t be invalidated by that fact. You are strong and capable but despite all of this… I want to protect you. Why?” he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, face serious but eyes soft and fond.

“Because I care.”

With that, Tommy sniffed once before he launched himself at Dream, wrapping his arms around the older blonde’s waist again. Dream smiled fondly and a touch bit sadly as he patted Tommy’s back before moving up to pat his hair. He kept the teen close to him as his shoulders shook, silent sobs wracking through his form. The tiny scene was broken when someone coughed and brought Dream out of it. He looked up and flushed at the stares everyone inside the house gave to him, varying degrees of disbelief, confusion, and warmth (the latter was Ranboo…and Sapnap?). He cleared his throat and gave them a shaky smile. 

“Uh- hey?” Dream chuckled, flinching when his voice sounded a touch too nervous for his liking. He bit his lip and surveyed the room, noting how similar it was to the one that Technoblade had back in his own set-up. He was sure to memorize the entirety of the inside of the house—never one to get rid of his initial adoration for the man (sure, he watched almost every one of Techno’s stream and sometimes rewatched them again and again when he was bored. He was a fanboy at heart, sue him). The tiny differences he can pick out is how much bigger the interior was and how it had furniture like a couch and even had a kitchen.  

What did catch his eye however was the man standing right beside Technoblade, his back to the door. The amber eyes that were once alight with fury and disbelief were now staring at him in shock and uncertainty. Dream swallowed and eyed Sapnap warily, unsure how to feel with the man’s presence. On one hand, he was glad that his friend—his brother in all but blood—actually put his anger aside to come with the teens and Technoblade to find out the truth. On the other hand, he was nervous because he didn’t know how Sapnap would react to him and his story. He also held a bit of fear of the man and his abilities, knowing that if things would go south—he wouldn’t be able to defend himself at all. 

For now, he would be wary of him even if he considered him a brother, “I- um… hi?”

Technoblade raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, seemingly analyzing where he stood with Tommy in his arms, “Are you sure you’re Dream?”

“He did answer to Tommy calling him Dream.” Sapnap mused with a shrug, his eyes darkening with an unknown emotion as he looked at him and Tommy. Dream wondered lightly if that was jealousy or thinly veiled rage—he should’ve been able to read Sapnap like before but right now, he couldn’t even do that (he tried to ignore the pang of hurt that came with that realization—of how different this Sapnap was from his own that he couldn’t even decipher his feelings and expressions).

“Yes, this is Dream.” Ranboo nodded, meeting Technoblade and Sapnap in the eyes before turning away and shuffling closer to Dream. The older blonde gave the dual toned hybrid a soft smile as he shuffled just slightly behind Dream. He moved just a tad bit in front of Ranboo before he turned back to face the other two warriors in the house. “Just not… not the Dream you know.”

“Clearly.” Technoblade drawled, his eyebrow twitching slightly as he stared at Dream. 

“I- uh- if you don’t believe that I came from… another world or however Tommy and Ranboo explained it-”

“Dimension!” Tommy’s voice was muffled as he still pressed his face against Dream’s stomach. Dream chuckled as he continued.

“-right, dimension. If you don’t believe me, then I could show you proof.”

Technoblade hummed as he stared at Dream, observing and analyzing, while Sapnap pressed his lips into a thin line. Dream cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet. He wasn’t sure what exactly Tommy and Ranboo said to the two to explain who he was but it was worth a shot. It was clear from the way the two looked at him with uncertainty and distrust that they didn’t exactly know what was going on.

“I’d like to know more about this… dimension you come from.” Technoblade grunted, crossing his arms as he tilted his head at Dream. He perked up at this, eyes sparkling as he looked at the warrior before him. Right, he could do that. Pretty simple, right?

“Yeah, who knows if you’re just some random dude from a different server.” Sapnap narrowed his eyes at Dream as he pointed at him in suspicion. 

Dream swallowed, feeling just a hint of hurt at the accusation. He shook it off however and placed back his smile, more to assure himself than the other two he was speaking to, “Right, uh- where I come from… Well, there weren’t any wars or at least any wars that I participated in! Uh- you two, same with Tommy and Ranboo, have counterparts that I am friends with. We all just… live in this big house? Mansion? Uh- whatever you can call it and we play games and have fun.” 

The more Dream spoke, the more Technoblade and Sapnap seemed to look at him in disbelief. Dream noticed this and deflated slightly, his shoulders slumping forward as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Right, of course. No one in this entire server was in any good relationship with each other at all. If anything, they’d have only one or two people they trusted with their life at most but never everyone or too many. It would just spell into a disaster and spiral into betrayals and arguments and explosions. Maybe starting with that was not something he should’ve done.

He searched mentally for something to tell the two that would calm them down, or at least seem believable at first glance. Dream licked his lips and glanced at Ranboo and Tommy for a hot second. He had told the two about the specifics of his world and how much influence his world’s roleplay had on this world. He had talked about it already but something in him was still scared to talk about it more. Something in him was still reluctant to speak about the atrocities that happened here were just mere words on a script for him and his friends. Something in him was terrified to break everyone’s reality in this world and ruin that already fragile sense of life they held onto. 

Tommy and Ranboo seemed to notice his hesitance as they moved. Tommy squeezed Dream’s waist tighter before he pulled away from the hug and smiled reassuringly at him with red rimmed eyes. Once he was done, he moved to stand near Ranboo while the dual toned teen reached over and squeezed Dream’s shoulder with a small smile. Dream blinked at the two and smiled before his focus returned to the waiting two. He took a deep breath and let it out as he prepared himself to discuss this. He knew that he only told Ranboo and Tommy because he was sure the two were comfortable with him and not about to call his explanation bullshit. 

He hoped the two would believe it though.

“Well, I mean, it’s not that friendly all the time. We do get arguments here and there but uh- the biggest thing that you need to know about my world is that… It's not like this world, like at all.” Dream breathed in and then out as he prepared himself for this big reveal. When he had told Tommy and Ranboo about it, he had just let the words out without a second thought. Right now, he was having a lot of second thoughts. “We don’t have monsters like creepers and zombies. We don’t- don’t have any weapons like the swords and shields you carry around. Despite that uh- your world is very well known where I’m from.”

“Oh?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow at this, a bit of curiosity peeking out now instead of disbelief. 

“The fuck?” Sapnap whispered under his breath, still in his stage of disbelief as he stared at Dream. 

“It’s like- basically your world is like a game and me and my friends play it almost everyday and we just happen to like, roleplay and sorta script all the events that has happened in your life and I’m really sorry you have to find out this way and I’m also sort of sorry for making everything you experienced so far pretty hard on you all and-”

Dream was cut off by Tommy slapping a hand on the blonde’s mouth, forcing him to blink out of his rant. This caused him to see Technoblade and Sapnap staring at him with apprehension and slight confusion. Dream flushed before shaking his head, taking Tommy’s wrist into his hand and pushing it down. He huffed and glared playfully at the teen who merely shrugged and raised an eyebrow in defiance. Dream sighed and let it drop as he turned his focus back to the two—a bit embarrassed at his sudden information dump. 

“Look-”

“No, nevermind.” Technoblade closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, he looked back up to pin Dream with a stare, “You said you had proof, I’d like to see that.” 

“Oh, right!” Dream scrambled, sticking his hand into his hoodie pocket. The sudden tension in Technoblade and Sapnap’s figures did not go unnoticed to Dream but he brushed it off easily. He was not going to think about that again. Instead, he easily pulled out his phone and turned it on. He cleared his throat a bit before nervously gesturing towards the couch. “Uh, you might need to… sit down, maybe?”

Technoblade and Sapnap exchanged a look before they begrudgingly moved and sat on either side of Dream, leaning just a tad bit closer to see what was shown on screen. They admit that they had never seen the object at all, not in their many travels through different servers at least. It intrigued them, especially Technoblade even if he didn’t want to admit it. While they settled down on either side of Dream, the blonde fumbling with the phone as he clicked to his photos and scrolled through his videos, Tommy and Ranboo stared at the trio with slight jealousy in their eyes, faces scrunched together as they seemingly pouted (they would never admit that they were sulking, no—shut up).

“So not fair.” Tommy mumbled, low enough that the three wouldn’t hear but it seemed to be loud enough for Ranboo. Tommy sighed and just settled himself against the wall, glancing over Sapnap’s head to look at the screen. “I wanted to see too.”

“Same.” Ranboo sighed heavily before he moved away from Tommy’s side, choosing to lean against the wall near Technoblade. Tommy rolled his eyes at the tall hybrid as he leaned just right over Technoblade’s head, somehow managing to get a closer look. 

It wasn’t long before Dream found the video he wanted. At least now he was aware to be careful of the contents of each video and how the viewer might react to it. He didn’t want a repeat of reminding Tommy of the bad things Wilbur has done to him with the video he had shown them. This time, he had chosen a fairly tame video, not a lot of audio but it did have more actions. Dream cleared his throat, gaining back the attention of everyone in the room with him. He smiled at them apologetically as he moved to warn them of what to expect in the video, “Uh, I had asked Wilbur to take the video for this so if you hear him… yeah, that’s why.” 

He ignored the weird looks he was getting and pressed play for the video, turning his phone sideways for a bigger picture. 

The camera was shaky for a moment as muffled talking was heard. Then, it focused and the talking turned to quiet laughter, a familiar snickering that easily caught people’s attention. As the camera focused, the view became clearer. The camera was positioned so it captured the entire living room, a large television mounted on the wall with multiple other devices connecting to it underneath. There were multiple couches and beanbags strewn around but the main focus of the video was the brunette man who was lying on the large couch, feet kicked up on the other arm of the chair. He was occupied with his phone as a pair of orange tinted glasses were pushed up on his head. 

Sapnap swallowed a bit, watching the video intently. That was… George. It was George but at the same time it wasn’t. This man on the couch was wearing a loose grey hoodie with the familiar red and shite stripe on the center. That plus jeans and black socks made Sapnap reel back a bit. He has never seen George wear anything like that, constantly complaining how he and Dream even survive in the heat with multiple layers and thick clothing. If anything, the last time Sapnap saw George, he was wearing his usual blue shirt only paired with a long red cape that had the mushroom aesthetic design with his goggles and a mushroom like hat. 

As he watched George in the video lay down, it sort of reminded him of his friend when he was ready or about to doze off to sleep. However, the one difference was that usually his George would doze off immediately and he’d need to be shaken awake—this George however was different in the sense that he seemed awake. Not even dozing off due to his completely lax position. 

It was silent for a moment and the video seemed to be boring as it constantly showed George sitting on the couch, nothing interesting happening other than Wilbur’s snickers and the camera shaking every now and again. Then, as if summoned by the intense silence, there were two identical shouts that filled the air and reached the microphone of the phone. The shouts were mixed, as if they had screamed at the same time and caused their words to mix and blur together. Despite this, the word was clear as day and it easily caught the attention of the man on the couch. 

“GOGY!” 

Then, quick as lightning—before the man even had the chance to look up from his phone—two blurry figures ran straight for the couch and lunged at it, jumping on top of George. He let out a shrill screech before it was quickly muffled when the two figures crushed him in a hug. The moment was broken, however, when the couch had tipped backwards due to the duo launching towards it and the couch completely fell back. At this point, Wilbur had burst out laughing and the camera shook as he started to walk towards the laughing trio.

“What- you guys are the worst,” George’s voice was strained as he forced his face to frown instead of smile and burst into laughter. 

Sapnap’s heart twinged when he saw that the two figures were his counterpart (if he were to believe that this was another dimension—something that he was coming to realize for every second that he watched the video) and Dream. Both of them had matching and wide grins as they laughed boisterously and he couldn’t help but feel jealous at the closeness of this world’s Dream Team. He was jealous that there didn’t seem to be any rift between them. He was jealous about the fact that, somehow, his counterpart was happily living with his two best friends. He was jealous about the fact that this Dream—the very same Dream that sat beside him at this moment—didn’t have any delusions of power and attachments and actually stayed with his friends through thick and thin. He was jealous about the fact that his counterpart managed to keep the relationship between them three stable and healthy. 

Sapnap was jealous of this beautiful and shining world. 

“You love us, Gogy!” Dream laughed, loud and clear, as he made kissy faces with George. 

The older man easily shoved his face away, “Ew, no! Get away from me!”

This action allowed Sapnap to pounce on George from behind, letting out a loud and cracked shout of- “You love us!”

George let out another screech but this time, he wasn’t able to hold back his laughter. The three fell into a pile of limbs as George tried to fight the other two off while Dream started to wheeze. Wilbur chuckled from behind the camera’s view. The video continued to watch the three wrestle on the ground as laughter and a few jabs were shared with one another. Then, there was a commotion from outside the camera’s view and Wilbur started to curse.

“Oh shit, Phil’s coming.” This sentence caused Dream to curse, Sapnap to finally let go of George and for the three of them to calm down and scramble off the fallen couch.

That caught Technoblade’s attention as he actually paid more attention to the video this time. This was the first time someone he had cared about deeply was mentioned. He knew that this video was more geared towards convincing Sapnap considering it was about the Dream Team—their actions eerily similar to how the trio used to act before their little fallout. Technoblade hummed and focused on the video, noting how it got noticeably shakier after the sentence was uttered. He wondered what kind of influence his friend had in this world. 

“Oh god, oh shit-” Wilbur whispered as the camera shook and blacked out however it was still rolling with audio. Grunting could be heard as the quartet tried to right the couch back to its place. 

In the middle of their efforts however, the voices got closer and four voices, as one, chorused-

“Shit.”

“What the fuck is going on here- oh you little shits-” Phil’s voice sounded in the air, tinged with a bit of annoyance but mostly playfulness. “Get back here you little shits-”

The camera suddenly brightened as the couch fell with a thud. There was laughter as Wilbur and the Dream Team sprinted away, the camera shaking as it followed the taller man around as he ran. While he ran, the microphone caught a few of the cheers that floated around the living room, either cheering on Phil or the other four. Then, the camera cuts to black. 

Dream cleared his throat and gave a shaky smile as he explained, “Uh- Phil caught us in the end though. Nothing bad happened, we just shared a big laugh about it and got banned from using the living room after a while.”

“You got banned from the living room.” Tommy stated with a snort.

“I mean, it wasn’t as bad as your counterpart, Tubbo and Ranboo being banned from both the kitchen and the backyard because of that weird prank war you three started.” Dream easily shot back, his smile easing up slightly. “Anyways, aside from that I also have a video of me and Techno. It’s really short and not a lot of dialogue but it’s fun.”

“Oh?” Technoblade tilted his head in curiosity. By now, Technoblade believed in this whole different dimension thing—no one, not even Dream, could replicate Phil’s voice. Nether, Technoblade was sure no one could make that video with perfect replication of people Technoblade had interacted with even at passing. However, it made a pit form at the bottom of his stomach—stirring with dread. “What is the video about?”

At his words, however, Dream perked up. He turned to Technoblade with a wide and somewhat blinding smile as he began to speak, “Right! You might look a bit different in the video cause well, you don’t have pink hair in this universe. But the video! Right, the video was just me and Techno playing around with fake swords cause we thought it’d be funny!”

“Right…” Technoblade cleared his throat, moving away slightly from the blonde at his excitable nature. 

Dream flushed at the reaction and turned back to his phone, scrolling through the videos quickly as he tried to find the one he was talking about. He should’ve known that some people might not be the same but he was hoping that maybe since his character was quite close to Technoblade, he would be a bit friendlier to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had assumed too quickly. 

Instead of dwelling into these thoughts, he easily pressed the video and started it, turning his phone over to the side again. The video started to play, gaining the attention of everyone around him as he tried to quell his embarrassment.

The video was not shaky as it easily focused on two figures who stood on opposite sides to each other. They were holding two long stick-like objects in their hands. Dream was currently bent over himself as he wheezed his lungs out, the sound seemingly getting caught by the camera’s microphone despite the distance. On the other end, Technoblade was shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose—a small smile was on his face, however.

“REAL LIFE TECHNO VERSUS DREAM DUEL POG?” the familiar voice of Tommy sounded louder than Dream’s wheezing as it seemingly came from behind the camera. 

Just as he said this, Technoblade looked up and stared at the camera in deadpan while Dream tried to lunge forward despite wheezing so hard he seemed like he was going through an asthma attack. Tommy cackled from behind the camera as he continued to egg them on, “GO ON, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!”

Technoblade sighed, resigning himself to this fate, and turned to Dream with a wide grin. He ran forward and hit Dream while he was bent over, aiming for his back. The hit didn’t even phase Dream but it did break the foam sword in half. There was a pause as they all stared at the broken sword before Technoblade let out a long drawn out, “Bruh…” 

Technoblade blinked at the familiar sound that came out of this foreign looking man’s mouth. It… sounded exactly like him. It had almost shocked him that had Dream not mentioned how different they looked. If he paid closer attention, he could see how scrawny and not at all in shape his counterpart looked. He almost looked like a twig. He would probably fall from a strong gust of wind much less carry a sword or a weapon. He wondered just how peaceful this other world is for his counterpart to risk being not in shape. 

This caused a round of laughter as Dream slowly got on his knees and started slamming his fist on the ground, his wheezing laughter reaching new heights. The camera shook as Tommy coughed and laughed, bending over and causing the camera to face the grassy ground. Then, the video suddenly cuts off after a particularly loud coughing fit from Tommy. 

There was a tense silence after that scene. Dream looked up from his phone, turning it off immediately to save the battery and turning to look between the others. Sapnap was silently staring at his hands, eyes narrowed with a frown settled on his face. Beside him, Tommy had looked away with his lips pressed into a thin and seemingly annoyed line. On his other side, Technoblade had easily pushed himself to move to the edge of the couch (Dream tried to ignore the hurt that action brought) while Ranboo was licking his lips as he looked around the house, never once settling into a single object or place to stare at. 

Dream swallowed and wondered if maybe this was too much information at once. He wondered if he had made another mistake and moved to apologize when-

“I want to speak to you.”

“Can we talk?”

Another tense silence as Dream stared between Technoblade and Sapnap. 

Chapter Text

Dream sat in between two glaring warriors who could easily slit his throat if they tried and oh Jesus Christ he can already feel the adrenaline slowly pumping into his veins. He wondered if this had happened before based off of the way Tommy and Ranboo began to look disgruntled by their actions. He licked his lips and looked between them, watching as the tension thickened the longer Technoblade and Sapnap stared at each other.

After a while, Tommy let out a frustrated sigh and waved his hand around which easily caught Technoblade and Sapnap’s attention, “Okay you two, shut up-”

“We didn’t say anything.” Sapnap shot back easily, turning his glare to Tommy.

“-and we can settle this with ‘rock, paper, scissors’!” Tommy continued on, as if he never heard Sapnap’s voice at all. 

“What are we? Children?” Technoblade raised an eyebrow, his tone bordering on a sneer. He leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms. 

“I think it’s fair.” Dream gave a small and hesitant smile. When Technoblade gave him a blank stare he shrunk under it and turned to face Sapnap and Tommy instead. He tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the cold response from his supposed rival/friend. Instead, he focused on the way that Sapnap nodded readily while Tommy smirked at Technoblade.

“Well, big man, looks like it’s settled. Boohoo to you cause Dream here says it’s fine.” Tommy smirked, goading Technoblade on. Dream wondered just how easy it was for Tommy to use his words to dig deep into people. It was baffling considering how powerful those words ended up being. 

“Whatever.” Technoblade huffed through his nose, pushing himself to stand up as he glared down at Sapnap. The raven haired man in turn narrowed his eyes at the taller warrior and pushed himself to stand as well, not one to be upstaged by the other man.

Dream blinked at their competitive air. It wasn’t the first time he had seen the two like this, especially since Sapnap had made it his mission to compete with Technoblade in a lot of things. It was bad when Sapnap teasingly went against Technoblade whenever Dream praised him but it got worse when they finally got together in one building and Sapnap could actually challenge him to stupit stuff. It ranged from normal Minecraft competitions to them challenging each other in a nerf war. 

It was genuinely funny to see, especially when the two got closer because of it. However, now it is different. The competitive air that buzzed between the two was like a blade. The tension was thick as the two glared at each other, none of the usual playfulness or amusement found at all. It made Dream nervous for this little match-up —what if this ended in bloodshed or an injury. It worried him even if the two weren’t his friends or close to him at all (he knew that they were so different from his own friends — he couldn’t exactly call them his friends, not yet).  

Instead of adding a quip, he sat back and watched with wary eyes as the two stared each other down. Technoblade’s nose twitched before he clenched his hand into a fist, raising it as he held his gaze with Sapnap. The raven haired man, in turn, raised his own clenched fist without breaking eye contact at all. Wordlessly, the two began to play the game that would decide which of them got to speak to him first. 

Belatedly, Dream realized that the game was a childish way to decide who got to speak to him first. He could’ve just easily chosen who to speak to first, not like they’ll be hurt by his choice anyways (even if it hurt him). Instead of speaking up, he kept his mouth shut and watched as the two ended the game quickly, with Sapnap somehow getting more points than Technoblade. A part of him was glad that Sapnap had won (even if, admittedly, a part of him expected the raven haired man to lose) because there was something about Technoblade that made him nervous. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if he was to talk to him first. 

Dream swallowed his thoughts and put on a shaky smile, turning his attention towards Sapnap instead. He pushed himself to stand and regarded his best friend from another world, “So… you wanted to talk?”

There was a brief pause as Sapnap seemed to examine him from head to toe, his critical eyes roving over his frame before they moved around the room. He raised an eyebrow before he crossed his arms as if he was expecting something, “Well?”

“What?” Technoblade bit out, his sour mood from losing clear as day as he glared heatedly at Sapnap. 

“I want some privacy.” Sapnap huffed, his eyebrow twitching at Technoblade’s tone. 

“I’m not letting you kick me out of my own home.”

There it was again, the electrifying tension that raised all of Dream’s hairs on end. He shivered and straightened, immediately trying to find a way out of this sort of predicament. He easily reached out to grab Sapnap’s arm, smiling nervously at the man when he had suddenly snapped into attention at the touch, and nodded towards the door, “We can uh- talk outside, if you want.” 

Sapnap looked between Technoblade and Dream before he seemingly decided on something and nodded at the blonde. Dream relaxed, giving a more easy going smile as he gently tugged and led Sapnap towards the main door, aiming to talk to him on his porch. Before they reached out, Dream turned and gave Ranboo and Tommy a warning look—hoping it was enough to keep them from doing something dangerous or stupid. When all he got was a raised eyebrow and an eye roll (respectively), he scoffed a short laugh under his breath and pushed the door open. 

The cold air hit him in the face and he fought back the shiver that almost wracked his frame. Instead, he soldiered on and stood by the porch railings, leaning against them as he turned to face Sapnap. He didn’t know what exactly the warrior would want from him but whatever it was—it had to be important with the privacy he had asked for. While Sapnap seemed to be gearing himself up for this conversation, Dream tilted his head up. His lashes fluttered as he stared at the open sky, the sun almost setting. He could even see a few specks in the sky—birds flying about and around the house stationed in the tundra.

Dream smiled at the sight, being calmed by the presence of something normal (he didn’t know when Minecraft gained crows as a mob but then again, they never had couches either).  

While the duo had gone outside, Tommy, Ranboo and Technoblade were stuck inside the house. Technoblade scowled, moving to sit on his couch. His glare was heated as he narrowed his eyes at the door, as if expecting it to burst into flames with his gaze alone. Ranboo coughed into his hand and noticed, from the corner of his eye, how Tommy was about to open his mouth. His shoulders hiked up until they brushed his ears and he moved, quick and fast, as he slammed a hand over Tommy’s mouth. 

The resounding sound that echoed inside the semi-empty house was deafening and Ranboo flushed. Technoblade raised his eyebrow and turned to face Ranboo, “What?”

“Uh- maybe we’re going to… uh… go out.” Ranboo let out nervously as he managed to keep a struggling Tommy silent. He ignored how the blonde teen was fighting against his hold, practically screaming into his hand and muffling anything that came out. He dragged Tommy towards the ladder, “Yeah, we’re going out into the snow.”

It wasn’t long before the two disappeared down the ladder and, no doubt, leaving the house through the door downstairs to avoid bumping into Dream and Sapnap. Technoblade sighed heavily, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. He tapped his finger against his bicep as he waited for the conversation to finish. 

Back outside, Dream shuffled in his place as Sapnap took a good amount of time to start talking. He was nervous, he’ll admit. He didn’t know exactly what his best friend’s counterpart was thinking. He only knew the bare basics—how Sapnap was affected the hardest by their fallout and how the only thing that came from his prison visit was a threat. A threat that he had almost gone through but with the wrong version of him. The reminder made Dream shiver and he pulled the cloak closer around him. 

He watched as Sapnap took a deep breath and looked up at him. They locked eyes and for a brief moment, Dream noticed how Sapnap hesitated. For the briefest of moments, Sapnap faltered at the sight of his best friend’s eyes—still so bright and green and not filled with emptiness and the same murky green he last saw. For the briefest moment, Sapnap hesitated because he realized this wasn’t the Dream he had grown up with. For the briefest moment, Sapnap was stunned to silence at the clear difference between the Dream that was stuck in the prison, quiet and reserved and manipulative, and this Dream before him, bright and kind and pure.  

It hurt him. 

Instead of focusing on the hurt, however, Sapnap pushed it to the side and faced Dream head on—forcing the words out, “You- I’m not going to apologize for almost killing you.”

Dream stared at him, silent. The parallels were unnerving to Sapnap—how different the two were physically, even then they seemed to share a few traits. The silence was grating on Sapnap’s nerves and it almost reminded him of his visit to his Dream (because this wasn’t his Dream, not the Dream he grew up with as a brother — not the Dream he fell out with and ended up threatening as if they never had any history behind them). It made him shift around nervously as the Dream before him pressed his lips into a thin line, dipping his head down slightly as if waiting for him to continue. 

“I made a promise and that- I was going to stick to it.” Sapnap continued, struggling to find the words. He didn’t want to apologize for doing what he promised—even if it was the wrong person. He was going to stick to his promise. He was not going to apologize for doing his best to kill Dream (his best friend, his brother — a nobody) even if he had hesitated at the very last moment—faced with Dream’s accepting and serene face. “I- I’ll apologize for scaring you, though.”

This time, Dream smiled. It was soft and comforting and forgiving. It made Sapnap’s heart wrench at the sight, “I understand, Sapnap.”

“Huh?” Sapnap let out, blinking in shock. That was the first time he heard that. The first time someone had easily accepted an apology—the first time no one argued and asked for more. So, he ended up sputtering out, “What- I?”

“I understand.” Dream repeated. It was easy and fluid and his expression didn’t change at all. It almost made Sapnap step back in surprise but he stayed still and firm, keeping his gaze locked on Dream as he tried to understand what Dream was saying. He had, admittedly, expected a lot of things in this. For Dream to get mad at him and demand an apology (or maybe that was what he thought the other Dream would do — he was different) or they’d get into an argument about it. Instead, all he was faced with was calm acceptance. “You made that promise. You- you were determined about it. I know.”

“But I- I almost killed you?” Sapnap’s voice started loud and incredulous until it lost its vitriol and he settled with a confused question. He didn’t know what to make of this Dream—this man who was kinder than the cold storm that was his former best friend. “I- I thought you’d be mad about that.”

Dream merely shrugged, as if it was of no consequence (which worried Sapnap because this man could die anytime and he doesn’t seem to care — a familiar sentiment that his former best friend seemed to have carried as well), “Sapnap, you- did you forget what kind of world I live in?”

“Of course not! I know what kind of fucking-” Sapnap let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He swallowed and met Dream’s determined gaze before he averted his eyes and stared at the wooden fence that Dream leaned against. “I know your world is all happy and everyone is friends with each other and none of you have been in wars which means you should be mad that I tried to kill you!”

“Pandas…” Dream looked at him sad eyes now and Sapnap trembled at the endearing name. The nickname that his Dream had called him. This time, he stepped back and pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t understand this Dream and it—it scared him. He prided himself in understanding his Dream. The Dream that had craved for power and violence—the Dream that had left him and George for exactly that. This Dream, who stood in front of him with a determined and kind smile, who was so different from the man Sapnap wished hadn’t gone down a horrible and thorny path. “I- I told you. I live in a world where everything that happened here… that might happen here is just… it’s roleplay for us. Acting. I know what you believe in. I’ve spoken about it with my- your counterpart.”

And oh-

Oh.

It was no wonder that Dream had looked at him like he knew every single part of him. It was no wonder that Dream didn’t seem to find it weird why his supposed best friend had tried to kill him. It was no wonder Dream seemed to take everything around him in stride. 

It was because he knew what everyone believed in. He knew what their desires and feelings were. He knew exactly what plans they had for everything and what they had done. He knew what they were thinking when they did everything. He knew what Dream was thinking when he had gone down his path of insanity and power. This Dream—this man in front of him knew things about them that Sapnap was sure they didn’t even know about themselves yet. It scared him (but a part of him was comforted — he didn’t have to hide anything from this Dream, he didn’t have to explain every single thing he had done. He didn’t have to explain his reactions and feelings and beliefs and have them shot down because they didn’t match with his own).

So, Sapnap let out a breath and finally relaxed, “Right…”

“Did you…” Dream hesitated, his figure releasing any tension and determination from before. Sapnap watched as all the confidence turned to nervousness and uncertainty. “Did you want to talk about anything else?”

A part of him wanted to say no. To say no and leave Dream—to pretend all of this didn’t happen and just leave the tundra. He could just forget about this entire thing happening and continue on living his life. He can just report to Sam that nothing was seen in this area and just leave Dream, Tommy, Ranboo and Technoblade alone. He could just—he could do all those things and then some more. He could do them but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to lose another chance—another best friend. He doesn’t want to see his best friend from afar anymore, he wants to be a part of whatever Dream decided to do—whatever it is he decided to do. 

So, Sapnap steeled himself and looked at Dream in the eyes, “I just… you said everything that happened here, you know it right? Know more than anyone does?”

Dream pressed his lips into a thin line, as if considering his next words. Sapnap couldn’t even blame him for it—knowledge was power and it was something Dream had proved to everyone with his actions and words (all of which had hurt everyone in one way or another). Then, Dream nodded his head sharply and gave a smile, “Yeah. I said that.” 

“So… Do you know why my Dream—your counterpart… Do you know why he did all those things?” Sapnap cringed at his own words and hesitance, hating how he wanted to know the answer but at the same time he didn’t want to know. Dream looked at him with a tilted head, searching for something in his eyes and Sapnap shuffled in his place. He knew he had every chance to ask his Dream. He knew he had every chance to confront his own former best friend and get the answers from him but he was scared and unsure. He was scared because what if the answer was something else—what if the answer was that it was Sapnap’s fault for their fallout and not Dream’s. 

He was scared because by the time he could ask his Dream for any answers, it was well established how much he lied and manipulated everyone. He was scared because he didn’t want to hear what kind of lie his Dream would fabricate—either to make their friendship worsen or bring it back again, effectively bringing back another powerful ally on his side. He was scared because whatever answer that would come from him would either hurt him more or make him lose more trust in his former best friend. 

Now, however, Sapnap was faced with an honest and kind version of his former best friend. Now, he was faced with someone who knew the truth—who knew of Sapnap’s insecurities and pains. Now, he was faced with a chance to finally learn for the first time who was truly at fault. Now, he could face the truth—plain and simple. 

“I do.” Dream whispered, as if the next words he was about to say were fragile. Or maybe it was because he was scared that the answer would hurt him. Sapnap breathed in and kept his gaze locked with him, not backing down. When Dream noticed this, he gave a small and wry smile in return and continued his words, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes.” Sapnap nodded, his resolve firm as he answered. He needed to know. He wanted to know if the many things everyone was saying were true—that Dream had really fallen from grace and become a monster. He wanted to know if his Dream really craved power and control so much to the point that he was willing to throw everyone and anyone under the bus to get what he wanted. “I do. So, please… Tell me.” 

“I don’t know how much influence my world has on yours.” Dream started, slow and hesitant. “I don’t know if unspoken rules and unsaid plot points extend to this world, so… take my words with a grain of salt.”

“But you could be right.” Sapnap pushed, his brows furrowing. He stepped forward, his emotions surged inside of him as he felt himself get closer and closer to the truth, “You could- there’s a chance you are right.”

“There is.”

“Then tell me.” Sapnap begged, his voice desperate as he reached out and gripped Dream’s arms. His grip was not tight nor was it bruising but Dream had still flinched, as if burned by his touch. He swallowed, “Please.”

“Right, I- I wasn’t planning for everything to be overly malicious but it just happened. Kind of like… a snowball effect. You start it and it goes from being small things to getting bigger and bigger until you can’t control it anymore.” Dream explained, speaking of the backstory of his character that he has yet to make public to anyone beyond those in the SMP. “It- it started off with my counterpart wanting to protect you and George, his family… It started off like that but then misunderstandings happened and he did things that he couldn’t ever return from and it just- he just continued to fall. In the end, he only really had one thing to cling to.”

Sapnap felt his mouth dry at the explanation. How his best friend was falling and falling and had no one to catch him from his descent. It wasn’t a descent of madness and power, like everyone had guessed. It wasn’t a descent from being a good person to a monster. It was a person who was so blinded by his desire for unity that he had ended up doing quite a lot of despicable things in the name of said desire. It made him realize that a lot of the things Dream did were mostly for the purpose of uniting everyone under a common enemy—even if he was already in prison, he had to keep the charade up.

“Of course that… that doesn’t excuse all the shit he did to you guys.” Dream sighed, closing his eyes as he rubbed his arm. Sapnap watched as Dream’s face creased with worry and guilt, as if he regretted the things his counterpart did. Maybe he did. Maybe he was rethinking whatever he had planned. Maybe he was rethinking all his actions and regretting them—even if they didn’t have any effect in his world. “It doesn’t excuse his actions no matter what kind of reason he has behind them. Of course it does explain some of it—but still, it just- it’s wrong. He did some… I made him do some pretty messed up stuff that he has to own up to and apologize for.”

Sapnap pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. He hadn’t heard much about what happened to Tommy in exile but he knew, from the way Tommy kept insisting Dream was dangerous during the confrontation that threw Dream into prison, that it was something bad. For it to be reiterated in front of him by his former friend’s counterpart just cemented that fact. He had held onto some hope that maybe Tommy was overreacting—that he had a chance to get back with Dream and find a way to make their friendship work again. He had hoped that maybe there was something there for him to get back with Dream—let them forget about everything. This, however, made him hesitant. 

Dream seemed to have noticed Sapnap’s reaction and raised his hands, waving them around frantically. He gave the ravenette a nervous smile as he continued to speak, “Of- I- Look, Pandas…”

Sapnap flinched at the endearing nickname, head snapping up to stare at Dream, “You…”

Dream flushed at the sudden attention, letting out a nervous laugh, “I- sorry. Is it weird? If it’s weird I can just stop and-”

“No, I-” Sapnap choked a bit, the words dying on his throat. It had been a long time since Sapnap had heard Dream call him Pandas. It had been too long, in his opinion. He swallowed and pushed on, “It’s fine, Dream.”

“Right.”

“What were you… about to say?” Sapnap tried for a smile. He hadn’t meant to divert the conversation to something else entirely. He still wanted to hear what this Dream had to say—if his Dream was really too far gone.

“Right.” Dream cleared his throat and nodded. He paused for a moment as he bit his bottom lip, seemingly thinking for a moment. Sapnap shuffled in his spot, waiting for Dream’s next words. “He did… so many bad things, we’ve established that. Despite that… he really missed you guys.”

“He did?” Sapnap hadn’t expected the words to slip out, his voice cracking at the end. Dream looked at him with a sympathetic look, a small sad smile on his face. Sapnap sniffled, bringing a hand up to his face when he realized his cheeks felt colder. He felt tears and pulled his hand back, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t expected… this. He blinked and shook his head, turning to look back at Dream, “You- you’re sure?”

“Not entirely, like I said… I don’t know how many unsaid things… how much planned but never executed stuff ended up being real here. How many off camera discussions ended up happening for real here.” Dream brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He gave Sapnap a small smile, this time tinged with a bit of nostalgia. “I just know that… if it were me, I’d miss you guys. I’d miss everyone… If my counterpart is anything like me, I know he’d feel the same way too.”

That hit Sapnap hard. It hit hard because no matter how hard he looked at this Dream, he couldn’t stop seeing a younger and kinder version of his best friend. A younger man who wasn’t tainted by war. A kinder man who wasn’t forced to unite people by doing atrocious things. A younger and kinder man who had yet to hurt people and crave for control over the masses. It hit harder than it was supposed to because this Dream before him used to be the Dream he knew, not so long ago (though it felt like decades).  

“He just- I guess everything that happened in this server was because we all just collectively agreed not to communicate with one another and just be a bunch of unreliable narrators.” Dream shrugged, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. The hoodie that, when Sapnap actually paid some attention to, was filled with smiley faces reminiscent of Dream’s mask. A mask that was absent on the blonde in front of him (something he was glad the other didn’t have). “Then it kind of translated into a lot of miscommunication, misunderstandings and just… a lot of problems in general. I think we’ve all… kind of joked about our cha- you guys- uh… just, a lot of emotional constipation.” 

Sapnap snorted, “That sounds like a major understatement.”

Dream chuckled, shaking his head, “I know I just… didn’t want to, uh- offend you?”

“Well, no offense taken.” Sapnap shrugged before giving Dream a small grin. His earlier sadness was washed away by the endearing way Dream tried to fix everything. There was still a lingering feeling of pain but he pushed aside easily—almost naturally. “We’re all just… horrible at talking to people.”

He was right. He couldn’t really remember any time where anyone in the server actually spoke to each other. The many problems that sprouted between people—the conflicts that were never resolved because of pride and the hesitance to speak to each other lingering for too long. He knew there were a lot of things to be said, a lot of apologies that needed to be spoken but were left unsaid. He could see the many relationships that broke apart because of miscommunication. He could see so many allies suffering and breaking apart because of many unsaid words that should’ve been spoken. He had experienced this with his Dream. The words that were never said or the excuses and apologies that were never listened to. 

It hurt him to realize that he was part of the problem but it helped him realize so many things as well. It made him realize that so many people shared sentiments, had differing opinions but never mentioned them. Maybe they did and they fell on deaf ears. Maybe they didn’t and suffered in silence. Maybe they had hopes that were never spoken only to be broken when expectations were not met. 

“Do you… do you think the reason my Dream pushed everyone away was because of that?” Sapnap whispered, feeling dread settle in his bones. He didn’t want to believe he was part of the problem but he was. He had listened to Tommy and believed Quackity when they both spoke badly of Dream—two of his former best friend’s biggest enemies. He had listened to them and refused to listen to Dream himself when he was giving his own explanation. When he looked up to see Dream’s smile turn into a small sad frown.

“I’m sorry, Pandas.”

Sapnap let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he nodded. He clenched his hands into fists as they rested on either side of him. All of this time, he had blamed Dream for everything. He had readily pushed him away at the first chance he got. He had been blinded by his rage and bias and—it made Dream realize he was alone in this world. After all, if his own best friend (brother in everything but blood) believed he was a selfish monster, then who wouldn’t? 

Sapnap jolted when arms wrapped around him, a hand carefully guiding the back of his head so he could rest his chin on the man’s shoulder. He stiffened for a brief moment, feeling the arms tighten around him slightly. Then, he sniffed and relaxed in the hold. He buried his face into Dream’s shoulder and soaked in the warmth of being in the arms of his best friend again, even if it was his counterpart. He reached his arms up and hugged Dream back, clutching at the back of his cloak tightly. If anything, Sapnap didn’t want this moment to end—he wanted to stay in this hold forever. 

More than anything, Sapnap wished that time would turn back and he’d be back in the days when Dream, George and him were best friends. Where they would have fun and jokingly push each other around. Where they would spar with wooden swords and wrap each other’s injury after. Where they would all share a double bed and fight for the blankets. Where they were acting like children and not—not whatever they were acting like at the moment. Where they weren’t a control freak prisoner, a hot headed warrior and an apathetic former king. 

He wanted to go back to the days when they were just Dream, Sapnap and George. 

“I missed this.” Sapnap admitted, his voice muffled as he buried his head further into Dream’s shoulder. Dream hummed and reached his hand up, threading his fingers through his hair. “I really… I really missed this.”

“I know.” Dream whispered and for a brief moment, Sapnap wished this was his Dream and not the kind counterpart. For a brief moment, Sapnap wished he could speak like this to the man without fearing his weaknesses be used against him. “I would too and I’m sure my Sapnap would too if he was in your place.”

Sapnap said nothing, relishing in the warmth that the other man brought. He wasn’t the same build as his Dream but it was close. He wasn’t the same Dream, either, but it was enough. He wasn’t the man he was supposed to reconcile with but it was enough, for now. At most, Sapnap’s resolve to speak to his Dream and try to talk to him about everything was recharged. 

“Are you alright?” Dream asked, pulling back a bit but never letting go.

“Yeah.” Sapnap nodded, his voice low as he met Dream’s eyes. “For now.”

Dream snorted and shook his head, smiling as he reached out and ruffled his hair, “Idiot.”

Sapnap felt himself smile as he let out a chuckle, “Thanks, I needed that.”

“I know.” Dream let out a sigh, his smile softening. “If you didn’t ask to talk to me, I would’ve talked to you myself… Though, admittedly, it would’ve taken much longer.”

“Why?” Sapnap let himself smirk, his tone turning teasing as he looked at Dream, “Were you scared?”

“A bit.” Dream answered honestly, eyes shining with unshed tears. He was glad he got to talk to Sapnap—let him get out the feelings he’s been bottling up. It felt relieving on his end and he was sure it felt amazing on Sapnap’s end, albeit a bit depressing now that it was revealed what his counterpart was bottling up constantly. He was glad that he and Sapnap—this Sapnap, at least—were able to make up and be calm together. “I’m always scared of… I’m scared of rejection, really.”

Sapnap bit his lip, frowning down at him, “You… you are?”

Dream stiffened and forced on a smile. He was not going to have this conversation with Sapnap—not when they had just opened a different can of worms just minutes ago. He let out a calming breath and shook his head, waving his hand, “It’s nothing.”

“Dream-”

“Anyways-” Dream cut in, grinning as tugged at Sapnap’s wrist. He turned towards the front door of the cottage, hiding how his face scrunches up in a grimace for a brief moment. He hoped that Sapnap didn’t notice but knowing him, he probably did. He pushed that thought away and focused on the door and changed the subject, “it’s getting pretty cold here. Let’s go back inside?” 

Before Dream could drag Sapnp inside, the two heard Tommy let out a loud yell. Dream opened his mouth to say something when Sapnap cut in, “Actually- let me go check on those two.”

“Are you sure?” Dream was a bit hesitant, raising an eyebrow at the man. Last time he saw Sapnap and Tommy interacting was when the man was about to kill the teen. 

Sapnap seemed to notice his hesitance and rolled his eyes playfully, “I won’t kill anyone, Dream.”

“Uh-huh…”

Sapnap huffed out a laugh and tugged his wrist away from Dream. He gave Dream a small smile, “Just… give me a bit time to uh… think about everything.”

“Oh, right!” Dream let out a nervous laugh. Of course he didn’t have to think much about their conversation but Sapnap must be a bit conflicted. He stepped away from the ravenette and nodded at him, “Take all the time you need.”

Sapnap hummed and patted Dream’s shoulder, “I will.”

With a parting wave and a smile, Sapnap jumped down the steps and landed on the white snow. He turned and disappeared to the other side of the house and Dream let out a breath. He wanted to reach out to the other man some more, to help him realize that he wasn’t alone in this world. He wanted to do this but he couldn't—not when he had already put so much on Sapnap.

Instead, Dream turned to face the door and the next challenge he had to face. 

He took a deep breath, placing a hand on the handle of the door. He psyched himself up as he internally gave himself a pep talk. This was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. This was Technoblade! His counterpart’s only ally—at least, he thinks he is! Still, he has to be optimistic about this! He’s sure Technoblade holds some fondnes over his counterpart. His counterpart hadn’t betrayed him yet and hadn't done anything that really showed they were on the opposite side. They were fine! He was probably fine!

Everything was going to be fine!

Dream pushed open the door and looked up, a small and nervous smile on his face. He met Technoblade’s eyes and felt his blood run cold—then again that wasn’t the only cold thing in this entire place. After all, Dream was sure if he wanted to, Technoblade would’ve frozen him the moment his gaze rested on his form. A scowl was on his face as he crossed his arms, seemingly sizing him up from his spot. Dread settled in his stomach but Dream pushed it aside, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him. He must’ve imagined it—right! Technoblade didn’t hate him. It must’ve just been the wind… 

“We need to talk.”

He hoped it was just the wind.