Work Text:
Dream carefully opens the door to the fridge, the light softly illuminating the dark kitchen room. Moonlight spills through the broken windows, the mess around the house almost visible because of it. The mess he cannot even bear to clean up because if he does, it means accepting what he might lose forever.
And he refuses to.
Not yet , he thinks, not just yet .
He puts the volume of his phone on full, and plays a badly recorded song of someone playing the piano. He hums along to it, he hums along to himself. It was a little song that he and Fundy had made up together. Fundy had always been the one better at melodies. Soft, alluring, calming. A music filled with memories, memories that are happy, memories of them moving in this place together on the very first day. Memories of a time when his life was filled with hugs and kisses and laughter, of the scent of early morning coffees and the sight of ginger hair.
He can almost imagine it, can almost see him in his mind’s eye. The man of his dreams enters the kitchen with a smirk, asks him what he’s doing. And Dream will answer, having fun , and he’ll reply, may I join? And he would laugh and reach out to him, and they would hold each other’s hands. And they would dance to their little made up song.
He begins swaying to it, an almost bittersweet smile on his lips. He wishes he had a partner, like he did before, like in his mind’s eye, gliding across the kitchen floor with him. A person to be with, in times like this; a person to have fun with just like before. He closes his eyes and imagines it to be just like that. He closes his eyes and blocks out the world. Here, right now, Fundy is with him, just like old times. Just like before. Just like it should be.
Because once upon a time, Fundy and him made a promise to each other, to always be together. Through the thick and the thin, through love and heartbreak. They promised each other that they would stay by each other’s sides.
What a lie that has been.
To his surprise, he feels himself being lightly pushed and pulled. He feels the ghost of a touch on his waist, and his hands. Helping him in the dance he was doing. Guiding him through it.
He does not open his eyes. Heck, he does not even try to speak. He fears what might happen if he does. He’s scared that if he does, the magic spell will be broken and he will be faced with the reality that he’s all alone.That Fundy isn’t here and has never been.
When the song finishes, he feels the ghost move away, and when he opens his eyes, he thinks he can see a figure leaving through the doorway. But before he can follow and see -
The phone rings.