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Dream must’ve been staring at the door for ten minutes before he finally sucked it up and knocked. It wasn’t unusual for him to show up at Techno’s base at odd times, although usually he had the sense to message in advance and wait for a reply. Not today, though. As he waited for a response—hell, he’d settle for a sign of life from the house, gods knew if Techno was asleep he’d be standing there forever—he ran over the plan in his head one more time. He was just dropping by to say hello to his old friend, check out what he was up to post-Doomsday, ask normal questions before bringing up his… problem?
The more he mulled it over, the more he thought that perhaps it was a better question for Puffy. She always seemed willing to help, versus Technoblade and his apathetic exterior that he only ever opened up for Phil. He was about to turn and leave when he heard a ladder creaking, and he stepped back as the door suddenly swung open.
Dream blinked a few times as he was met with a very different Technoblade to the one he’d spoken to a week ago, the one who’d aided in wanton destruction and had a knack for mindless grinding being replaced by a Techno in a white sweater with an emerald hanging from his ear and a pair of wire glasses on his nose. It didn’t set aside the fact that he had a crossbow aimed between his eyes, though, and a dangerous glare pointed at him.
He laughed nervously, immediately throwing up his hands in defense. “Woah woah woah, it’s just me, dude, no need for the crossbow—” he sputtered, taking a step back.
Dream’s reassurance did nothing. In fact, Techno seemed to grip the crossbow tighter. “What’re you doin’ here, Dream?” he asked, more ordering a reply out of him than anything friendly.
Dream held back from making any sort of noise to showcase his disappointment. Nobody trusted him anymore, did they? He swallowed. “I’m just—just making my rounds around the server,” he lied, “Checking in on what everyone’s doing, making sure no one’s starting trouble up again.”
Seemingly satisfied with that, Techno slowly lowered his crossbow. “You should’ve sent me a message,” he huffed, “Can never know these days what somebody’s up to.”
“Ha, guess so, huh?” Dream let his hands drop to his sides, pulling at the hem of his cloak. He wasn’t expecting this level of hostility, but he supposed he should have known better than to show up uninvited. “Um, can I come in?”
Techno squinted at him, readjusting his glasses. “As long as you don’t go snoopin’ around, I don’t see why not.”
Dream’s eyes lit up, not that Techno would be able to see with his mask on. “Of course not!”
He stepped inside, and he supposed he’d never get used to how homely Techno’s cabin was, how it didn’t fit its residents in the least. Techno, former patron to a god of blood and violence, and Phil, who married none other than Death herself, living in a comfortable cottage in the middle of the arctic. Stranger still to him were the handful of dogs apparently let inside, lazing about on the floor. Dream leaned down to pat one on the head, taking note of the name tag on the collar, Em.
“So,” he started, walking towards the table in the kitchen area and running his hands over its surface—a new fixture since his last appearance here. “Um, what’re your plans moving forward?”
Techno shrugged, walking to the fireplace and sitting in one of the chairs by it. “Nothin’ you need to know about.”
Dream had never really taken the time to notice what was in here, and now that he did he wished he had the liberty of being able to settle down. A small kitchen with just enough working space for one person, adjacent to a living area with a couch and a coffee table, and in the back an array of chests next to a bookshelf, with the fireplace having two chairs on its sides. He leaned back against the table, watching as Techno urged one of his dogs closer to scratch its head.
“Out of curiosity, what was with the hoard of dogs?”
Techno looked up at him as if he was planning to slaughter them all. “Just useful to have, is all,” he replied coldly.
Dream sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jeez, can’t I ask my friend questions without being sized up like—like I’m going to use this against you?
“Like, nobody on the server likes me. Like, nobody, not even my friends. Sapnap went off on his own ages ago, George hasn't looked at me the same since the whole kingship shit, I'm pretty sure Sam wants my head, gods know what Callahan’s doing.” He pulled a chair out from the table to sit down, sitting on it backwards so he’d still be facing Techno as he spoke—no, rambled. “What'd I even do to deserve the cold shoulder from everyone?”
Techno snorted. If he was shocked by the sudden dump of information, he didn’t show it. “Dream, you’ve killed more people and caused more destruction than anyone else on the server.”
“So?!” he spat, “I didn’t start half of the shit they pin on me, but I sure as hell ended all of it.”
Techno shrugged, scratching behind his dog’s ears. “Yeah, they like pinning the blame on anyone but themselves.”
He deflated. “I think them all calling me a villain got me a while back, it’s fucking with my head.”
Techno quirked an eyebrow. “What am I now, your therapist?” Nonetheless, he motioned for him to go on.
Dream steadied his breathing. He never thought he’d open up to Technoblade of all people, but it wasn’t like he had many choices with all his other friends gone. “Everyone’s watching me. All the time. I can't do anything without people thinking it’s with some ulterior motive, and it’s just been really getting to me lately.”
“I think I get that,” Techno interjected. “People not seeing you for you, but just what you do.”
He leaned forward onto the back of the chair. “How do you even deal with that?”
“‘S why I moved, got away from all that stuff.” Techno tilted his head at him, his hair falling over his eyes. “Though, I s’pose it’s hard for someone like you to just ‘get away,’ I guess.”
Dream nodded along, his leg starting to bounce. “Y’know, back when L’manberg first started taking off, I abandoned my base and I just slept in a new spot every night. I started sleeping with my mask on and a sword under my blanket. Then with one eye open. Then I just—stopped sleeping.” He rubbed the back of his neck as a conveniently timed headache started to form. “I, uh, I don’t think I’ve slept for more than thirty minutes at a time in months. It’s hard to rest when, uh, yeah.”
Techno stared at him with wide eyes. “That’s not good, Dream.”
He shrugged. “You’d be paranoid too if everyone you knew was out to get you.”
Techno’s stare only widened, jaw dropping in tandem. If Dream focused, he swore he saw a flash of understanding in his eyes. He was half-tempted to laugh, to dispel whatever pure horror was going on in Techno’s head, to assure him that this was just his norm, but it seemed his friend had other ideas. Techno stood from his chair and walked over to the kitchen, flicking the stove on under a kettle. He craned his neck to try and watch; as Techno walked with a plate and a glass, he readjusted himself to be sitting properly.
“Y’know, Dream, sometimes I forget how big of an idiot you are,” Techno stated, putting a plate with a piece of bread and a glass of water in front of him. Dream stared at the food, dumbfounded, as Techno continued. “Not sleepin’ is doing you any favors. I get that you don’t have a house to sleep in—”
“I have a house—”
“—but you’ve still gotta sleep.” Techno sat down and gestured towards the food again. “I put some tea on, and you’re gonna stay here for the night at least. Now eat.”
Dream shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’ve got anything important to do now—”
“I just can’t, Techno, okay?” he hissed, quickly standing from the table. “I—I just can’t.”
“Why not?” Techno stood and walked around the table, cautiously placing his hands on Dream’s shoulders.
Part of Dream was tempted to just spew every thought he’d had in the last six months, how every time he slept he woke up screaming or crying or both, how if he stopped moving he felt like he’d lose more than he already had. He just shook his head and brushed Techno off.
“Dream?”
“I’m fine,” he spat, “I—yeah, no, I’m fine.”
Techno pulled back, turning away as the kettle started whistling. “Will you at least stay for tea?”
He half-heartedly nodded, sitting back down in the chair. He’d gotten this far, he might as well stay. There was a peaceful silence as Techno put everything together, and he pretended he didn’t notice that Techno filled his mug with more milk than water or dropped in mass amounts of sugar. When the mug was placed in front of him, he held back a snort at the distinctly bitter smell.
“Haha, very funny.” He leaned back in his chair, scrunching his nose at Techno’s shit-eating grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t know drinkin’ green tea was cannibalism to you.”
He doubled over wheezing, doing his best to keep himself from slamming his hands into the table, opting to hit at his thighs instead. “Techno, what the hell?!”
Dream took a moment to compose himself, doing his best to suppress resurgent giggles when he looked between his mug and Techno’s. He’d even given him a green terracotta mug— terracotta, of all materials.
“C’mon, Dream, drink it before it goes cold.”
His heart suddenly dropped. Oh, yeah. He had to—
As if reading his mind, Technoblade said, “Bruh, I’ve literally already seen your face. Just drink the damn tea.”
He sighed, slowly reaching to undo the complicated buckles that kept his mask in place and letting it drop onto his lap. He couldn’t help a relieved laugh at seeing the back of it in his hands.
“I—I can’t remember the last time I took this off.”
Techno shrugged, pointedly focused on his cup of tea and not his face. “Interestin’, you don’t take it off to sleep or—wait, right.”
Dream gently placed his mask face-up on the table. He hadn’t gotten a proper look at it in ages, but its appearance didn’t surprise him. The surface was grungy with dirt, splattered with faded blood stains, and had various cracks and scratches from general abuse. He could still see the slash directly down the middle from when it’d been split in half by none other than his company.
When was the last time he’d seen his own face?
He decided that was a can of worms he’d open later. Right now, he was drinking tea with a friend he hadn’t sat down and spoken to on anything other than neutral terms in gods knew how long.
They didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to be said, he supposed; only tea and company to enjoy. The longer he sat, the more his skin crawled, the more he glanced towards the window and the darkening sky, and he thought he really ought to leave soon. He rhythmically tapped his fingers against the mug: pointer finger, middle, ring, pinky, then reverse, in time with the clock ticking. It was almost enough to distract him from the growing urge to run.
He tensed as he heard crunches in the snow outside, the door opening downstairs, and someone sorting through chests. He quickly placed down the mug and reached for his mask, only for Techno to reach out and stop him from getting much farther.
“‘S just Phil, Dream,” he said, “Phil’s stoppin’ by for something, and then he’ll be on his way.”
Dream reluctantly pulled his hand back into his own space, but left his mug on the table. Techno had long finished his tea, but Dream could barely stomach a few sips before his gut started to twist and he felt like if he tried to drink any more he’d retch.
“Let’s get you settled in for the night, hm?”
Dream shivered. “I really appreciate the gesture, Techno, but—”
Techno grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet. “Your comin’ with me to the spare room, and I’m puttin’ a dog in your room to make sure you sleep.”
“Damn, okay.” Dream grabbed his mask just as he was dragged up the stairs.
Techno brought him to a small room with little more than a bed, a matching wardrobe and dresser set, and a mirror on the wall. It was small, but it was safe, having the same atmosphere to it as the rest of the cabin. He cautiously stepped towards the bed, before turning to look back at Techno.
“Are you really sure about this?”
Techno nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, gotta find a dog who isn’t too energetic for ya,” he replied, before abruptly turning and closing the door.
Dream scanned the room again. He had a feeling this room had never been intended for use, if the build up of dust on every surface was any hint. Still, it was a room and a bed, and if he was going to be forced to crash anywhere, well. This was fine.
He walked over to the mirror, and blinked at the sight of himself. Well, he sure had a face; whether or not it was his was questionable. His eyes didn’t shine, his nose looked a little sharper than how he remembered it, his lips were thin and cracked and barely had any color. Whatever freckles he once had were faded from lack of sunlight. The only thing that had stayed the same was his scar, a slash diagonally across his face from when Techno had beat him all those months ago.
A morbid reminder of better times.
It didn’t take him long to fall asleep. He kicked off his boots and haphazardly discarded his gear and dropped directly onto the bed, sinking into the mattress. Just laying back on a bed felt like heaven. Before he knew it, his eyes had drifted shut and he was asleep.
For once, he didn’t dream.
When Technoblade opened the door, his voices murmured a choir of aww’ s. He would admit, it was quite peaceful to see Dream asleep. He looked like he’d barely made it onto the mattress before passing out, with his arms and legs splayed across the duvet. He smiled, letting go of FossilNet’s collar and letting them trot into the room, the dog immediately jumping onto the bed and sniffing at Dream’s hair. He was tempted to try and maneuver Dream under the covers, but if he really hadn’t slept well in months, he didn’t want to ruin the other’s rest. He closed the door as quietly as he could on his way out.
He found himself back in the kitchen, with Philza putting away what Techno had forgotten he left out. He picked up his and Dream’s mugs on his way to join him in the kitchen, pouring Dream’s half-drinken tea into the sink and turning on the faucet.
“Hullo,” he greeted, reaching for a rag.
Phil hummed a response, reaching for a mug of his own and a few things to make his nightly tea. “What’s with the company?”
Techno shrugged. “He showed up and started rambling, and I figured why not? Guy’s stressed enough, he deserves a place to crash.”
He could feel Phil’s side-eye through the back of his head. “Y’know, it’s not exactly wise to have two war criminals—”
“Three war criminals,” he corrected, gesturing at Phil, “You’re one now too.”
Phil sighed. “Three war criminals all in the same house.”
He snorted, setting the green mug onto the drying rack. “It’s only for the night, Phil. Besides, who’s got the nerve to fight all three of us after we, y’know, blew up a country?”
The kettle’s whistling was quickly muffled as the stove was flicked off. “I’m just worried about you, Techno. Having him around is dangerous.”
He switched off the sink and set the other cup onto the drying rack. “What’s he gonna do? Kill us? You should’a heard him earlier, Phil, he sounded…” He wasn’t sure what described it best. Exhausted, exasperated? Done with it all? “…haunted.”
He turned around to face Phil, who’s eyes were alight with curiosity. “Haunted, you say?”
He leaned his hands against the sink as he nodded. “I dunno how else to describe the way he was talkin’ to me. Like, he acted like how—how you-know-who used to act when he came around, except nobody’s comin’.”
Philza took a sip of his tea—smelled like chamomile, a good choice for late nights. “Well, as long as you don’t make keeping him around a regular thing, mate, I guess it’s fine.”
Techno grinned. “What, and give the homeless man a home? That’d take away half of his identity!”
Phil nearly spat out his tea, throwing a hand over his mouth as he cackled.
“Like, c’mon Phil, he’s got two things goin’ for him and one of them is his homelessness, and the other is his color, and only one of those things can be changed.”
Phil wheezed, sputtering out something that was barely cohesive as Techno closed his eyes in content.
“But for real Phil,” he continued, “I don’t know if worried is the right word for this, but Dream seems a little off lately.”
Phil breathed out, putting a hand on his chest as he composed himself. “How so?”
Techno shrugged. “Just the way he was speakin’, I s’pose. He said something about bein’ paranoid?” He threw his hands up in defense. “I dunno, I’m just paraphrasing, but—”
“But what?”
He cast a glance towards the stairs. You’d be paranoid too if everyone you knew was out to get you. He understood that on a deeper level than he cared to admit. He was once paranoid enough to run away, and if the almighty Blade could be afraid enough to run, he couldn’t imagine what Dream was going through. “I think I understand him, is all.”
Phil hummed, taking a sip of his tea. “Well, don’t understand him too well. I don’t want him coming around a lot, he’s trouble.”
He nodded, turning back to the sink. There were a few other dirty dishes that he ought to clean, and then he still had a few rounds of animals to feed before he could go to bed.
His voices were a quiet hum of Rivals pog? , Technosoft , Dadza , and requests to check in on either his new neighbor or the animals. He supposed he could also check in on Dream again before he went to bed, to make sure the dog hadn’t woken him up or anything.
He didn’t think he really understood Dream, not to the level Philza was assuming, but he understood his situation. He wondered how Dream could run for so long without tripping; even if it was his specialty, everyone messed up, everyone made mistakes. Techno had plenty of scars from the times he’d tripped, so to speak. Maybe not on this server, but on others where he’d been beaten—a few times by Dream himself.
“Hey Phil?” he asked, placing a plate on the drying rack, “Between you and me, d’you think Dream’s been acting a little—”
“We’re not talking about him anymore,” Phil snapped, “Him being here is a temporary arrangement, for our safety. Gods know what would happen to you if people thought you were sheltering or helping him.”
Techno sighed, shutting off the faucet. “Well. I owe the guy a favor, and this sure as hell ain’t it, so I’m gonna have to help him eventually.”
“I know, I know, just… Be careful, okay?”
A smile pulled at his lips, and the voices started their Dadza! chant. “Of course, do you know who you’re talkin’ to? Technoblade never dies.”
He walked towards the door and grabbed his cloak, casting a quick glance to the clock. He should’ve fed the dogs hours ago, but sometimes someone needed a shoulder to lean on. He just hoped this didn’t come back to bite him later.
By the time Techno woke up that morning, Dream was gone, and in his place was a hastily scribbled note:
Technoblade,
Thank you for your hospitality and for hearing me out.
I’m going to do something soon that no one is going to like me for, and I’m asking you, as a friend, to stay out of it. You’re pretty good at that.
If you ever need me, you have my communicator code.
- Dream
He did a quick sweep of his chests, and found nothing out of place. At least he was a decent house guest. He slipped the note into his hidden barrel in the attic before going about his daily rounds.