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Dream stood at the edge of the tree line. An overgrown clearing stretched out in front of him. Weeds rose up waist high and it was apparent that no one had been in this particular area for a long long time. Dream, himself, hadn’t set foot in this clearing since the night he made the grave marker and placed it at the base of the birch tree.
The birch tree was no longer in the center of the clearing. Dream strode forward, finding the splintered stump. He dropped to a knee, reaching out to brush a hand over where he remembered placing the marker. He felt the marker and his heart soared even though he supposed the marker was no longer necessary since he’d revived Wilbur. He was just happy to be in a place that the rest of the server seemed to have forgotten.
This could be his own little place, safe from those that surely will be out for his head. Dream tipped his head back and closed his eyes. A breeze swept through the clearing kissing Dream’s skin and causing the weeds to brush against his armored legs. He sensed peace and calm. No threats to be detected.
“Perfect” He muttered to himself. He stood and wondered around the clearing, taking note of his surroundings. He paused when he came across a makeshift camp that had been built at the edge of the clearing on the opposite side. He tilted his head and knelt again, observing. The camp was old, possibly months old, almost like someone had taken temporary shelter here. It would work well, Dream hummed to himself pushing himself up again. He would just need to gather a few things and make some adjustments and the temporary camp would be perfect for him to lay low in.
The sun was starting to dip low on the horizon. Dream found a small secluded pool of water and for the first time since his imprisonment, had a nice long, proper bath. He slipped from his netherite armor, keeping it and his weapons close at hand as he eased himself into the small pool. He washed his hair first, using soap he’d found at the makeshift camp, before soaping up the rest of his body. He pointedly ignored the jagged crisscrossing scars that now decorated his body. His mouth twisted in a frown as he fought the memory of Quackity stepping into his cell for those weeks.
He never wanted to go through that again. He won’t. His fist clenched around the soap and he was started when it slipped from his grasp and plopped into the water. He blinked at the ripples for a few moments before diving to retrieve the soap and finished his bath. He washed his armor as well, cleaning the netherite that Punz had given him fondly and with great care.
He would have to figure out how to reward Punz. He really went above and beyond for him, more than anyone else had. Punz is the only one who hadn’t turned their back on him. The only one who would also see his vision of the future. He was smiling when he returned to the clearing. He hung his armor up near to the makeshift camp for it to dry and he set about making a small fire to cook the couple of fish he managed to catch on his way back.
He ate his supper, watching the stars twinkle in the sky and the moon as it rose above the trees. He appreciated it more now that he ever did before. Being stuck in that prison for nearly a year changed his perception on a lot of the small joys that he failed to enjoy before. Nature was one of those things. His senses were still calm and he found himself relaxed more than he can remember being in a long time.
He settled down on top of a bed of leaves and wool that he’d found and started up at the sky. The calmness and general fond memories of the clearing helped to lull him into a light sleep.
It was some where in the neighborhood of early dawn when Dream was roused from this light doze. He blinked his eyes open and groaned quietly. He sat up and looked around. The clearing was still calm and nothing was out of place. Everything was like it was when he’d went to sleep. His senses were still calm, still no threat in the area.
He chalked it up to him being so used to not getting much rest in the prison and settled back down to doze off again. A twig snapped, closer. Dream was instantly alert. He shot up, hand closing around the hilt of his sword as he moved to crouch. He reached out with his senses but all he got back was calmness. There was no threat.
Could it have been an animal? Bushes started to swoosh at the far end of the clearing. No it couldn’t be. Dream’s hand had a white knuckled gripped on the hilt of his sword as he tensed.
A muttered curse and someone was stepping into the clearing. Dark brown boots, a trench coat, and curly brown hair. Even before the figure stepped into the fading moonlight, the tension was bleeding from Dream’s frame as he knew exactly who had just joined him.
It was the person the he’d shared many a nights in this clearing with.
“Hello Wilbur” Dream greeted, letting his sword fall from his hand. His voice caused the other to jolt slightly but he quickly perked up.
“Dream!” Wilbur exclaimed with a smile as he waded through the weeds to join Dream in the makeshift camp area, “I was hoping to find you here.”
“Oh?” Dream arched a brow with a slight quirk of his lips. He tilted his head up, “Did you now?”
Wilbur nodded once, slipping his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.
Silence enveloped the two. It wasn’t anything new, not here and certainly not between them. It was comfortable and familiar and Dream basked in it. He’d missed this, them. He stared, unblinkingly at Wilbur as the other swept his gaze slowly around the clearing.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” Dream asked, his voice soft.
Wilbur sighed softly and eased himself down to rest near Dream. “I came here not long after I was revived,” Wilbur explained, “It was all so much at one time and I needed an area that was familiar and safe.” He waved his hand toward where Dream was sitting, “I stayed here for a bit while I got used to the world again and I figured out what I wanted to do.” Wilbur turned his head and Dream’s breath hitched at the intensity of his stare. His next words sparked a fire in Dream’s blood, “I found the grave you set up for me. You were the only one to think...to even give me a final resting place.”
“Someone had to.” Dream responded, shrugging, “It seemed like the right thing to do after...” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah” Wilbur huffed out a laugh that held no humor what so ever. He ducked his head, hiding behind his curls, saying, “I’m glad it was here.”
“Me too.”
They sat in silence once more as the moon started to dip behind the trees and the sky started to lighten with the coming day. Dream yawned and stretched. His shirt lifted to expose his skin.
Wilbur’s sharp intake of breath caused him to flinch. Dark eyes were staring, intensely and Wilbur’s lips were pulled down in a concerned frown. Dream tensed automatically as Wilbur reached out wordlessly. Warm fingers dipped below his shirt and Dream’s breath stuttered as the shirt was slowly lifted - almost as if Wilbur didn’t want to startle him - and his scars exposed to Wilbur’s eyes.
“These scars,” Wilbur commented, gaze jumping from one to the other to another after, “I don’t remember these scars.” Questioning dark eyes snapped up to meet pained green. “Did Tommy do this to you?”
Dream shook his head in the negative. A lump suddenly formed in the back of his throat, cutting off any of the words he wanted to say.
A gentle touch make him jump slightly as Wilbur slowly and with a care that warmed Dream’s heart, traced the jagged ugly things. Wilbur didn’t push any further, as if he sensed Dream’s turmoil.
Dream remembers a time where their roles were reversed and it was Dream gently tracing a scar - the scare that came from the final control room - that freshly decorated Wilbur’s skin.
“Prison” Dream gritted out, tipping his head back and slipping his eyes closed against the memories. Words spilled from his lips, “After I revived you, Quackity started to show up because he wanted to book. I don’t know how he found out about it or why he wanted it but he did. He started to come every single day and he started to torture me, trying to break me and get me to give up the book. Sam just let him waltz right into my cell and torture me for hours.”
His voice was shaking and panic was starting to tighten his chest. He felt Wilbur shift closer to him and blinked away the blur in his vision to watch as Wilbur hovered over him. To watch Wilbur slowly lean down, nice and slow, and start to plant soft kisses all along the scars.
“Let go Dream,” Wilbur whispered again his skin, “Let go. I’m here. I have you.”
And Dream did. For the first time since his imprisonment and escape, Dream let the tears flow freely. He let the anger and anguish and budding doubt that he was ever going to be free again slip free and fall to the earth below.
Wilbur held him, muttering soothing words and pressing soft kisses to the scars and he exposed them. Dream let himself be rid of the shirt and let shift him in the pile of leaves.
The tears eventually stopped and Dream tangled his fingers in Wilbur’s curls. Wilbur practically purred in contentment as he settled next to Dream and pulled him close.
As the sun peaked over the horizon, Dream started to doze off again with Wilbur beside him, muttering soft nothings in his ear as his fingers glided over the scars of the past in the clearing that meant so much to be both of them.