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Sapnap and Dream had dueled countless times.
Each duel would start and end the same way. It would begin with a playful taunt, the light cruelties that could only be exchanged between friends. Then with cocky grins and relentless bravado, they’d draw their swords and fall into their own familiar rhythm . The swords would find their places, steel meeting steel in a perfectly rehearsed dance; a song sung between two warriors who felt the most comfortable in the heat of battle.
In the end, like every other fight, Sapnap would always fall. Then Dream would smile and extend a hand, both of them laughing as Sapnap wiped the dust from his legs. It was a shame really. When it came to strength there was no doubt that Sapnap far surpassed Dream. But there was something Dream had; an ability to think ahead, to plan every step and thrust of his sword with purpose. He didn’t get caught up in the moment, didn’t allow fits of passion or emotion trip him up like Sapnap did. Where Dream was ice, Sapnap was fire. Always blazing, never thinking. It was always his downfall.
They were dueling again today, and this time was no different.
Sapnap is still a fire, Sapnap is forever blazing, forever burning. He can’t control it, he can’t think. All he sees is the sword in his hands and the mask of a man he once considered a friend. (There's other things too: The smiles of the two men he loved, a kingdom he’d die to protect, a small room made of obsidian. But those lurk in the back of his mind, just out of grasp.) It’s like this, as it always is, that he burns too hot. Sapnap moves too hastily, too violently. He can’t brace himself for the low thrust of Dream's sword. But he doesn’t care, there’s an itch to hurt, to kill. He leaves himself completely open, an open flame flickering in the cold wind- (The lovers reach, hands outstretched, Sapnap remembers the feel of their hands on his. Just barely. He imagines them guiding the sword with him. Three hands on the hilt.) With all his might and all his fire, his blade swings in an arc towards Dreams neck-
He misses.
The sword, thrown off by his momentum, embeds itself in Dreams shoulder. The blade slices muscle, but gets caught; the angle all wrong. Dream hisses in pain, blood pouring from the wound. Sapnap savors the sound, grasping the handle of the sword. His hands shake from where they grip the leather- why were they shaking?
Sapnap looks down and- oh .
Just like that, the flame is snuffed out.
“See Sapnap, it’s - it’s just like old times-“ Dream teases, just as he always would. The familiarity tugs at Sapnap, it’s almost comforting. Or it would be- if he didn’t currently have a sword in his stomach. Sapnap wishes he could retort, wishes he could find the words. But there’s nothing. Not anymore.
Sapnap uses the last of his strength to pull his sword back. Part of him wants to turn it around, to drive it into Dreams back. But he couldn’t if he wanted to (and he didn’t, not really.) His fingers weren’t really cooperating, so he let it go, the metal hitting the earth with a dull thud. Having exerted what little energy he had left he lurches forward. With one arm, Dream embraces Sapnap, holding him upright. With the other, he clutched the handle of the sword.
“-I never lost back then either.”
Sapnap’s knees buckle. Dream helps him to the ground, hand firmly grasping on Sapnaps arm. As their knees hit the earth Sapnap sinks into Dreams touch, head finding its place on his shoulder. (The one he hadn’t just sliced open.) Dream rubs his back; slow, comforting motions as he pulls the sword from Sapnaps stomach. Sapnap groans, low and pitiful. Dream clings to him tighter, his other hand, now slick with blood, cups gently at the back of his neck.
It's nice to hug Dream again. Sapnap thinks, mind dizzy with pain. It’s been much too long.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Dream comforts, Sapnap hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. It’s embarrassing in a way, he never was one to cry. His pride never allowed for it. Not that it mattered now, pride was nothing when you were dead.
Sapnap considers it, being dead. Being nothing. Or maybe he would be something, or half of something; like ghostbur. That’s almost worse. The thought alone makes him cry more, he couldn’t be bothered to hold back. It would be over soon, and he had a lifetime of tears to make up for.
“Hey- hey man. You don’t have to be upset,” Dream soothes, voice somehow steady. He was good that way, good at not showing how he felt. Still- he leans forward, pressing his face into Sapnaps hair. “It was always bound to happen this way.” His voice quivers, just barely. A crack in the ice.
Something wet drips down onto Sapnaps scalp.
There’s a sick sense of relief in this, knowing he’s worth Dreams tears. It’s a pitiful thing. The way he ached for Dreams attention, even in the end. He clung to it, the tiniest wisps of validation. It warmed his chest where the fire once was, the place between his ribs that were now filled with smoke. The ash seemed clogged his throat-
It was so hard to breathe.
“Although, I have to admit-“ Dream sounds so far away as Sapnap looks up at him. He doesn’t recall being moved to the ground. But he doesn’t mind, it’s more comfortable here with his head resting on dreams lap. “I was kinda hoping you’d win” Dream says in this almost-laugh. There's something behind it, something Sapnap can’t discern. Still- Dream smiles down at him, brushing the hair from his forehead. The blood from his fingers smearing across his skin. “If it were anyone, I would’ve… I would’ve liked it to have been you.”
Selfish , Sapnap thinks, to wish your death upon the hands of a friend. Just so your mind could rest easy.
Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.
“Fuck...you” Sapnap croaks, tongue heavy with the taste of iron. The words lack heat. His eyes, blurry with tears, find the wound on Dreams shoulder. The skin seeps red; gash wide and jagged. It was close- So close to what could’ve been a deadly hit.
Sapnap knows deep down that this was the only way. He never could have done it. Not really. Not to him.
It was never meant to be. A sick part of his mind taunts. And it’s right, after all-
Sapnap never could win.
“You did good sap. You can-you can go now.” Dream gentles. It’s quiet but firm. A dismissal from duty. Sapnap thinks of the wars , the days spent by Dream’s side, days spent following his orders. He was happy then, happy to be his warrior- his soldier.
You can go now.
He was his soldier. So let this be his final command.
He gives in. He leans back and doesn’t fight when the blood fills his throat. He doesn’t fight the void as it creeps in around him. He doesn’t see Dream, doesn’t see anything anymore. He hears Dreams voice- echoing somewhere in the darkness, he thinks he can hear him smiling through the words.. He was glad- glad he could make him smile one last time.
“Meet me at the community house okay?” He says, barely a whisper. But it rings loud and clear in the abyss. A final cry from the world he used to know.
Then, just like that. Sapnap isn’t there anymore. Now he’s laying in the grass, head in Dreams lap. George is there, fishing quietly on the dock.
‘We should duel later.’ Dream says. But it doesn’t quite sound like him. Sapnap wants to, he aches for it. But he's so very sleepy. There’s a song playing somewhere on a disc, soft and familiar with it’s lilting tune. The music draws him closer to sleep. The exhaustion pulls on him, his vision fading as he watches two fish swim along the edge of the golden water, the waves now glowing red like fire in the sunset.
The last thing he sees are those two fish. He can’t seem to remember their names.
Sapnap shuts his eyes as the sun vanishes beyond the trees. The last bits of fire flickering into darkness. Someone squeezes his hand as he drifts off. He thinks of Karl (And maybe someone else- he hopes.) who is probably waiting for him to come home.
I’ll have to meet him-
Meet him where?
I’ll- I’ll meet him at the community house. That’s right.
I’ll see him soon.