Work Text:
Time moves endlessly. For millions and billions of years, time doesn’t seem to stop, not even just a second. Time moves so things can progress, so humans can progress, so reality can progress. Clocks tick until they malfunction — until they break, until they shatter.
Dream is editing a manhunt video he promised to be released in two days. In a room where the curtains are shut, the door is slightly opened, the bed not made, and the screen covered with iMovie being the only light source for the dimly lit bedroom. Dream refuses to look at how many hours he has been editing, but by his grumbling stomach and aching fingers, by his dry eyes and chapped lips, he knows he has been editing for a while. And a while means several hours.
Dream declines in taking breaks, even though his fans tell him not to stress almost everyday. He runs with energy drinks soaring through his veins, keeping him up to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep in between editing. It is unhealthy, and Dream is fully aware. But time is made so people can progress, and Dream needs to progress in his editing. And he’ll do it until he malfunction, break, or shatter.
That is until Dream hears footsteps from behind. Pits and pats, muffled by the soft material Dream is yet to predict. It’s far, until a blink, it’s close. As if the footsteps just stopped right behind him, it echoes.
Finally, warmth settles onto his shoulders. A hand that Dream is all too familiar with enters his sight. Fingers rubs circles, caressing above the shoulder blades, engulfing Dream into the touch as silent hums escape his lips.
Thumbs trail over the sharp collarbone, moving in a turtle-like pace, before the two hands under Dream’s neck attach together, displaying the mere fingers which distracts Dream’s ultimate focus to something else.
Against his right ear, there is a light breathing. Inhales calm and exhales collected. Dream tilts his head to the left once he feels a slightly heavier object on his right shoulder, allowing it to stay there as long as it wants to.
“Clay.” It is Sapnap speaking, voice hoarse yet clear against his ears. With Dream’s name, he sings a lullaby, removing all of Dream’s planned progress and then bathes himself in serenity.
“Nick,” Dream replies, his voice choking through the neck stung by energy drinks. Though, still continuing to move carefully, closer.
Dream leans himself back onto his chair. Plush lips brushes over his lukewarm cheek. It stays for seconds, though it feels too fast when a soft ch resonates as the lips detach from the cheek. Dream whines silently, wanting more of that hypnotizing kiss.
“You’ve been editing for a while,” Sapnap mutters, voice descending by each syllable. With a small huff, he continues, “aren’t you tired?”
“I am tired,” Dream admits, eyes shutting when he feels the kiss once more, this time on his jaw.
“Let’s go to sleep, Dream,” Sapnap says, voice incoherent by the jaw his lips stuck to before releasing himself from Dream completely. Lips gone, hands gone, warmth gone. Dream is left cold in the dark room.
As the suggestion directs Dream’s mind into a newer thought, Dream nods slowly, before letting out an inaudible yawn. He quickly saves the editing file to his computer, clicking the mouse with the numbest finger one can have, before powering off his computer completely.
Sapnap chuckles, touch lingering against Dream’s blond strands, bringing the warmth Dream once yearned. “You still have two days, Dream. You don’t have to force yourself to finish the video now, y’know?”
Dream frowns, holding back sadness and disappointment, “I know.”
“And even if you don’t have it done, people will understand.”
Dream sighs, guilt emerging on his chest, “I know. I’m sorry.”
Sapnap hushes him, “there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
This moment is rare — Dream being vulnerable and open and Sapnap comforting him with such a soft manner. Not that Sapnap’s never done it to Dream, but it is often Sapnap that goes to Dream to ask for reassuring words. This makes Dream think that he should care for Sapnap before himself, but over the months of them moving in together, especially after they started dating, Sapnap started noticing more in Dream, and today is one of them. And whenever these things happen, Dream feels as if he is in heaven, in a dream that is too real to happen, because Sapnap is good at calming Dream, too good in fact.
Many people see him as a man of carelessness and self-importance, but it is all just a cover concealing the gold only Dream and close friends can see.
With mumbling words, Sapnap says, “let’s go, Dream.”
A peck on the temple, the remedy for his stress. Sapnap takes Dream’s hand into his, and pulls him up from his seat. Balance is nearly nonexistent, Dream’s kneecaps wobble greatly like stacked cards pushed by the wind. One of his eyes is shut, and the other is creeping to close. Sapnap carefully holds his forearm to avoid him from falling. Dream wants to hold him too, but he physically cannot move his hands nor fingers.
“Jesus, you really are tired,” Sapnap comments, smiling sadly.
It takes two lazy steps for Sapnap and Dream to fall onto the mattress, springing them until it halts. Dream rolls over to the pillow instantly, resting himself on the middle of the bed, eyes shut completely, breaths clear but something is missing.
“Hey,” Sapnap is missing, “don’t sleep yet, I wanna cuddle,” Sapnap pouts as he rests himself beside the drifting Dream, heat emerging from his body.
Now, Dream feels complete.
Dream moves an arm to wrap itself around Sapnap’s shoulder before attempting to rest his hand on Sapnap’s smooth hair and brush his fingers through his gingerly strands. Sadly, his hand is too solid as if it formed into concrete in between the process of editing that video. It pains him how he can’t fully relish this peaceful moment with his boyfriend beside him, hushly begging for cuddles.
A palm cups Dream’s cheeks, and the palm drags Dream’s face down lightly. Dream complies to the touch and melts into it so simply.
“What’s wrong?” Sapnap asks, worry lingering in his voice. Dream isn’t even sure what expression he has on his face to make Sapnap notice the sadness, but Dream brushes it off quickly as he speaks so suddenly.
“...I wanna hold you,” Dream replies, honest but shy.
“But you can’t,” Sapnap guesses, and his guess is a shot to a bullseye. “Is it because your hand is hurting, darling? ”
Dream hums as a yes, which then he rewinds Sapnap’s sentence in his mind only to notice the short nickname. Darling. Dream’s cheeks tingle, fluttering him into rose-red. Sapnap is probably doing his smug smirk right now, silently celebrating that the mere nickname can make Dream flustered.
“Give me your hand,” Sapnap orders, voice cracking from — what Dream guesses — excitement.
Dream smiles from that giggly tone. Though hesitating, he moves his free hand onto his chest. A thumb strokes his index finger, before a whole hand bears the cold digits. Sapnap pulls Dream’s hand softly, touching the back with such delicacy, Dream imagines it may be an angel who’s healing him into enchanting bliss.
When Dream senses the warm air hitting his knuckles, that’s when he truly stops hesitating, trusting Sapnap with whatever he’s about to do next. His decision is correct — feather-like lips kiss knuckles, leaving invisible marks by each peck.
The pecking moves ever-so-slightly. From the peaks to valleys to peaks and to valleys again. The pecking stops at the ring finger, and Sapnap then caresses that finger, smooth by each rub. Dream hums, understanding what Sapnap is indicating, but he stays silent, pondering on that thought.
It is in a heartbeat that Dream can suddenly feel his hands move. It stutters at first, until Sapnap lets go of his hand completely while moving his head to rest on Dream’s chest. Dream drifts his fingers onto Sapnap’s cheeks, trailing from his cheekbones onto his chin.
He grins. Sapnap manages to warm his numb hand with just short kisses. He truly is an angel who fell from the heavens.
Sapnap huffs suddenly, causing Dream to shift closer to Sapnap in concern.
“What’s up?” Dream asks.
“You keep smiling,” Sapnap responses.
Dream’s smile grows bigger, “something wrong with smiling?”
“No. In fact, you should keep going, because your smile is the light in my darkest days,” Sapnap tries.
Dream groans, “you’re such a sap.”
“I am a Sap-nap,” Sapnap reminds him, and Dream laughs at Sapnap’s endearingly stupid pun.
Sapnap is perfect, everything about him is perfect. He may be arrogant, egotistical, impatient at times. But he knows when to stop, he knows when something’s wrong. He knows when to be annoying, he knows when to be worried.
Dream chose a good man, a lovely one, a beautiful one. He’s forever grateful, and he hopes this doesn’t end soon.
Time moves endlessly, and Dream wants to stay here forever like this. His love lies beside him, head on his chest as he listens to the slowing heartbeats, holding each other so tightly as if losing each other means losing everything.