Chapter Text

Cold

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dream.” Quackity said as he steps back from the bars of his obsidian cell. “Look at me.”

Slowly, a bleeding and hurt Dream, lying on the cold, obsidian floor, raised his head and focused on his face, obeying him to prevent more trouble.

Quackity, with a taunting smile, waved goodbye while holding his enchanted axe. The bars swiftly closed and scared Dream, making him flinch. “Bye-bye, Dream.” He said as he walks backwards towards the platform for him to travel through the lava. “Bye-bye!”

Just a few more seconds, he thought to himself. Every part of his body was in great pain; but instead, he’ll always do what Quackity says.

After what seemed to be a long period of time, Quackity reached the outside of his cell and stepped off the platform. With his eyes blurry from tears, he could barely see him talking with Awesamdude, the warden.

The lava slowly fell, and so did Dream’s expression and his head. He let his body slump unto the floor and attempted to rest. His breathing was not steady. It was shaking endlessly and so was his hands.

With his eyes almost closing, tears formed without reason and flowed from his cheeks.

His arms was in immense pain that he thought it was torn off. His legs were numb as he was forced to stand just a while ago.

Aside from the smell of the heating lava, he smelled blood coming from a wound from his cheek. Quackity accidentally slashed him with his sword; but Quackity insisted that it was fitting.

The blood dripped down from his cheek— mixed with the tears his eyes had made.

It’s so cold.

The cell was surrounded by lava, but he felt so cold.

He wanted to go to George and to Sapnap and fell their embrace warming him up. He wanted to see their bright faces. He wanted to talk to them and breakdown without any guilt.

But Dream couldn’t.

He was tired— worn off from today’s torture. Not just that, he was tired of himself, of what he had become.

Dream knew that he wasn’t supposed to be like this. He could’ve been a friend to everyone in the SMP, but that’s just pondering.

‘You’re here now’, he thought. ‘You’re imprisoned. There’s nothing you could do.’

He’d always dream about getting out of the prison and going back to the start. With his friends.

Exploring the world together, building structures without end, having fun.

Oh, how he missed those times.

Then all of a sudden, he saw Quackity’s axe.

Did he never leave?

With all his might, he carried his weight and sat up against the wall facing the lava. Dream panicked as he saw his demented smile growing larger.

He breathed heavily, knowing that he’s about to get hurt again. Whimpers and short screams escaped his lips as he closed his eyes and covered his head.

Dream pushed himself with his legs against the impenetrable obsidian wall behind him. Even though he couldn’t move anymore, he still pushed himself.

He wanted to get out. Dream wanted it to stop.

Dream felt Quackity walking closer to him, it frightened him so much that he scream more and more louder.

He felt Quackity raise his axe and prepared to hit him. Breathing heavily, he gritted his teeth as hard as he could.

He anticipated the hit, but nothing landed. His eyes slowly opened as he unraveled his arms from his head to see nothing.

Raising his head and slowly scanning the cell, he saw no trace of Quackity at all.

Nonetheless, his tears kept falling. His body still hurt. Yet his mind was blank.

Now he couldn’t think of anything else but him.

In a white void, he stood alone.

He was covered in netherite armor. He held his trusty sword on his right and a shield on his left. His hair was too messy and it was also long.

And in front of him was Dream.

It was the old Dream, the brighter Dream.

He wasn’t wearing any armor nor was he holding anything. His jacket was still vivid and his hair was fixed.

The young Dream, with terrified eyes, looked up and down to his future self.

He felt disgust.

Future Dream sighed and with his tired eyes, stared at what he once was.

Innocent and sane, while he was corrupted and hell-bent.

“What did you do…” The young Dream asks him as he raised his hand to touch him, yet he retracted it. “…why are you like this…?”

The broken Dream looked down. He couldn’t say anything. He stayed silent.

The young Dream knew that he did something wrong. Silence spoke for him. “…Why?”

The worn-off Dream raised his gaze. “…because I was selfish. I was so selfish.”

His past self closed his hands into fists as he felt rage and disgust to himself.

Without hesitation, the Scarred Dream knelt down in defeat. He dropped his sword and his shield and cried out. He screamed.

Yet his past couldn’t do the same.

He was angry at what he has become. Slowly, he stepped back and turned to walk away.

“Don’t go. You’re the only person I could turn to.” Dream begged as he cried more.

But the young Dream walked away, slowly disappearing from his sight.

The bright room shifted into a black abyss.

He was alone, once again.

Dream opened his eyes to see flowing lava popping before him.

He felt his wounds’ pains and it scared him when he came back to his senses. As he was laying on the ground with his stomach on the ground and his hands still covering his head, he sniffled and whimpered.

It’s so cold.

Slowly, Dream drifted off to sleep.

His mind rested, and so did his body.

Yet he will wake up again, feeling pain in his physical state, feeling lonely in his mental state, and feeling unloved and unwanted in his emotional state.

He'll wake up to feel agony. Everyday, he'll be awoken to feel torment.

To feel cold.

Like he always did.