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Dream isn’t cruel. He doesn’t think he can be, given everything that’s happened. With all the time he’d spent learning to be soft, to love and be loved, wouldn’t he be incapable of cruelty? Without guilt, no less? Well… Dream supposes he never really learned softness again. It was simply handed to him after he died afraid, alone, and in pain. More often than not, Dream finds himself doubting that he can’t be… cruel anymore. He feels as though he revels in pain a bit too much. Smiles a little too wide when someone supposed to be his friend collapses in the snow.
Techno didn’t need to make the deals he did. He didn’t need to bring Dream back, didn’t need to go through all that. It was Techno’s choice. It’s his fault . He deserves this.
(“You deserve this,” Quackity spits as Dream lays on the floor, bleeding, broken, and sobbing.)
Dream doesn’t know how many hours of Techno’s coughing it took him to finally get up. Long enough for Phil’s panicked words to become louder than Techno’s coughs. Long enough that Dream knows there isn’t a white towel left in the house that hasn’t been stained red.
With a shuddering breath, Dream sits up in bed. The room is cold, so cold, but Dream can’t act like he wasn’t the one who asked for it to be this way. If he’s cold, he can never be hot, simple as that. Dream tugs his blanket around his shoulders tightly, gripping it with a shaking hand. He doesn’t grab his walker- it would make him let go of his blanket- so he travels with his shoulder dragging across the blank walls of his room. Opening the door feels like emerging from someplace that isn’t his room, nor has it ever been. He swallows thickly.
The house is brightly lit. It’s pitch dark outside, but that could mean anything in the frigid cold of the arctic. Dream’s feet are bare, falling across each squeaky floorboard with a general unease. Techno’s coughing is louder than before, and the weak, nasty, traitorous thing in Dream’s chest squeezes tighter at the feeling of it.
He lingers in the doorway. Memories, old and new, fight to dictate how he lives. Drills and rules and pain and fear are the strongest, telling Dream to wait until he has permission. Telling him to be quiet and polite and maybe Phil won’t hit him or beat him to make things better. Another smaller voice cries for kindness. Softness. Sobs when it tells Dream that Technoblade is his friend, and there was a time, not long ago, when he ran into his friend’s arms and comforted them when they were hurting. Dream knows that can’t be the case, though. For so long, since he was brought back to this cruel world, ripped from his limbo where he was loved and free of hurt, Dream had been choosing vile, violent silence. He had been choosing isolation, snapping sharp words at whoever got too close.
It was too late for softness, and a part inside him cries.
Dream doesn’t look at Phil when he speaks up, partially because that’s what he’s been taught to do and partly because he feels like he should be ashamed. He is ashamed. It took far too long for him to realize his thoughts had morphed into Quackity’s voice and that he let this go on for far too long. His battered and scarred legs shake.
“I can- I can help, I think,” Dream says reluctantly. He knows Phil turns to look at him, but Dream can’t will himself to look anywhere near either of them. Techno coughs as Dream steps into the room, but there’s a distinct finality to it. One last hack that sounds more like it’s ripping out Techno’s throat before he finally settles into bed, falling silent with wheezy breaths. Dream bites his lip until blood bursts into his mouth, quickly taking over every sensation with the metallic taste. He hears Phil sigh before getting up. His chair drags across the floor roughly, making Dream flinch, keeping his eyes down even as Phil passes by and disappears.
Carefully, Dream walks over to the side of Techno’s bed. Techno is sleeping, thankfully, which makes it a little easier for Dream to sit down beside him. A sense of looseness and comfort Dream had been missing for so long blooms in his chest as he lays down, only souring his mood even further.
It isn’t hard to see that Techno is doing… terrible. Dream is surprised to discover the black skin traveling up Techno’s left arm and the flaking skin on his hands, revealing dark, frail bones. Dream glances at Techno’s face. The skin is pale with a few bloodstains, contrasted by deep dark circles. Dream sniffs, quickly glancing over his shoulder, before awkwardly laying down next to Techno. He doesn’t really know what Techno did to revive him, doesn’t know how it worked or what kind of deal Techno made, but he knows that whatever is happening to Techno… It hurts less when they are close.
Dream tells himself the only reason he’s out here is that he couldn’t stand the sound of Techno’s coughing anymore. It was annoying, not painful. It did not make his chest ache in a way it never has before. It isn’t because of the shame he feels for his cruelty. It isn’t because he so desperately doesn’t want to be like those who hurt him. Techno’s coughing was just interrupting his non-existent rest, alone in his room, staring out the window wishing for a body that worked and a world that was kind. It’s not because he feels better when Techno is around, too. It isn’t because he longs for the company of the man who took away every ounce of happiness Dream had found for himself in death.
Techno rolls over in his sleep, throwing an arm around Dream and pulling him close. It makes Dream tense. All of his bones lock together as something vile and scared and lonely wells up in his throat, threatening to spill over in a tense whimper as his limbs ache to squirm away. He doesn’t, though, for one reason or another. He doesn’t really know why, and that thought settles somewhere in him like a brick. He pushes the feeling away, instead deciding to close his eyes and try to rest.
The next thing Dream knows, he wakes up, surrounded by warmth and soft blankets. His head is clear from ache, and his limbs no longer shudder with the effect of torture Dream barely remembers. He feels… well-rested. Good. Somehow, feeling good feels awful . Why with Techno, who left him to die, who left him to hope hopelessly in prison, does Dream feel… well? More than well, even. This is the best he’s felt since he was revived. Hot, angry tears prick at Dream’s eyes. Why here? Why now? Why with Technoblade , of all fucking people?
The arm slung around Dreams waist tightens ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make him flinch. Dream turns onto his side, facing Techno’s pale face. The hand beside Techno’s face twitches ever so slightly, bringing Dream’s attention to the boney fingers. It isn’t hard to tell that they’re the bones of a wither skeleton and that they’re eating away at Techno’s body. Dream knows Techno isn’t stupid enough to let himself get bit or inhale too much wither dust, so he knows this is from his resurrection.
Sudden, thick, viscous guilt crashes through every tentative wall Dream put up.
This is what Techno did to bring him back to life. Handed over his body, his strength, his fucking legacy for Dream, and how does Dream respond?
Guilt. Guilt for the anger, the cruelty. Guilt for every unspoken thought and every hour spent resenting. That’s what Dream feels. Guilt. Thick tears well up in Dream’s eyes, and he can’t help the loud, raw sob ripped from his weak lips. The sound makes Techno wake up immediately, eyes already full of concern as he reaches out to Dream.
“Dream?” He asks. “What’s wrong? Did somethin’ happen?”
Gently, Techno wipes away a tear, and it makes Dream want to vomit. He pushes Techno’s hand away, struggling to untangle himself from Techno’s hold and the blankets wrapped around them. He staggers up, hands over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Techno sits up behind him, calling out, saying something, but everything is muffled. Dream’s vision is blurred by tears, and his hearing feels like it’s filtered through cotton. He nearly falls down the porch stairs, already feeling the cold of the arctic nip at his exposed skin.
He trips on the last step and falls to his knees in the snow. Dream freezes for a second, feeling the sensations of cold and freezing and pain. His legs, no matter how broken and weak and scarred, can feel the cold and cry out against it. His burned, bare feet are numb.
Dream puts his head down, resting it in the snow. His tears feel hot as he sobs over all he’s lost and all he has that he doesn’t want. Dream feels bitter and guilty, and angry that there’s nothing he can do anymore. He’s angry at Techno for caring so much when Dream has never before felt such a need to be loved.
The front door swings open behind Dream. The snow has made him go deaf, but he soon feels a warm hand on his shoulder and knows it’s Techno’s. Something large and warm and soft is draped over his shoulders, enveloping Dream in a warmth he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve. Techno drags him up, holding his cold and useless body, and carries him inside.
Dream’s frozen fingers grip onto Techno’s shirt tightly. He can’t feel the fabric beneath his skin, but he can feel the slow, steady heartbeat from Techno’s chest, seeping into his own and soothing the quiet panic gripping his heart. Dream hides his face in the soft, fluffy fur of the cape one of them was wearing and breathes. For the first time in his life, he lives with comfort, free of ache and weight and effort.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I’m not gonna let you freeze ,” Techno chuckles.
“Not… for the… this . I’m-- I’m sorry .”
Techno sighs. He squeezes Dream tightly before setting him down on Techno’s bed, still curled up and shivering.
“You don’t gotta be sorry,” Techno says. “This is my doin’, and I’ll take responsibility where it’s needed.”
Dream sniffs, taking the edges of the cape draped around him and pulling it closer. His limbs shake as Techno stokes the fire, snorting softly as he works.
“I liked it when you hurt,” Dream says. Techno freezes, and Dream is thankful Techno’s back is to him. “I liked it. I thought you deserved it.”
“ Thought ?” Techno echos.
Dream nods, even though Techno can’t see him. “Then I couldn’t tell my voice from Quackity’s.”
The statement makes Dream’s chest hurt, and he can’t tell if it’s from himself or Techno. Techno turns around to look at him, tail swaying gently with his ears drooped.
“Dream…” he starts. Dream knows what Techno is trying to say, even if he doesn’t believe it himself. Dream hasn’t been good, hasn’t been deserving. He knows that Techno knows.
“I’m not good at trying to, like... comfort people,” Techno tries.
“Then don’t.” Dream drops his head to his hands, burying his face in the warmth of the cape. “Please don’t.”
Techno sighs, and Dream hates how he can still practically see how Techno softens at his plea. Techno dusts his hands off before moving to sit down next to Dream. His frame dwarfs that of his friend, even hunched and tired.
“Alright,” Techno says softly. “Alright. We’ll do something else, then. Say, where’s your walker?”
“Room,” Dream croaks out because my room feels too comfortable. Too close. Too much like home and shaky memories of what home used to be to him.
Techno retries it, parking it diligently next to the bed. Dream can hear Techno begin to cough as soon as he leaves the room, but it’s gone as soon as he’s back by Dream’s side. It makes his eyes sting. Dream scrubs his face with his cape, trying to reset himself. Trying to settle his breath and get rid of the threat of tears. He doesn’t think he’s been able to calm down since he was resurrected. Techno squeezes his shoulder comfortingly, slowly sliding his hand to guide Dream’s head away from his hands to look up at Techno.
“You’re okay,” Techno says with a soft drawl. His head flops to the side. “I get it too. Turns out a fresh soul bond makes you pretty emotionally raw. Wasn’t really prepared for that part when I signed up for this.”
Dream huffs, halfway between a laugh and suppressed tears.
“You look tired, Dream,” Techno says.
“I am,” he admits gently. Dream is tired. He’s tired of crying and running and being angry and bitter and feeling emotions too big for his broken body. He’s tired of living, and he’s tired of yearning for death. He’s tired of sleepless nights left alone with nothing but the cold and his thoughts, and he’s tired of his own actions that get him there.
Techno hums, and he smiles. “Let’s take a nap, then.”
Before Dream can protest in any kind of way, Techno crawls into the bed, grabbing at blankets and pulling them up and around the two. He lays his head down with almost comedic energy, looking into Dream’s eyes with a smile.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Dream huffs, tilting his chin down, so his smile is hidden.
“Yeah, yeah.” Techno slings his arm back around Dream’s waist, pulling him closer so Dream can hide his face in his chest. Somehow, this hold was easier to settle into than the night before. Maybe he is cruel and unkind, but his fingers gain their feeling back against Techno’s skin, and he thinks maybe with enough time, he can learn to let go of that anger. Techno has handed him all the love and care in the world. He just needs to learn how to hold onto it.