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“Get. Your coat.” He wishes the snap was someone else, he wishes it wasn’t hissed into the mirror, but there’s simply nobody else to look out for him.
Doing a degree overseas wasn’t the fucking way, Dream decides as he turns on his heel and makes for the wardrobe. Say what you want about the student accommodations, at least they have a sink and mirror in the little bedroom. He reaches for the wardrobe, stops, and creeps over to the window to peek out. The notebook propped up against it remains, and he swallows the anxiety about it down.
Outside, there’s the little group of people he recognises. Niki is holding a bottle of something that flickers pink when it catches the light, laughing away with Fundy and two other people he doesn’t recognise. He wants to cancel on them, but he knows that Niki will be upset. She won’t be mad, she’s far too understanding, but she’ll be upset that he’s isolating himself again. It’s year fucking two, you’d think he’d have gotten his shit together by now, but no. The meds aren’t working. Maybe they will one day. Means he can drink, at least.
He turns from the window with a sigh, pockets his phone, and drags out a windbreaker for the spring night. Locks up his room. Heads downstairs.
He wants to back out all the way up to walking out the door, but when Niki looks over at him and lights up like a Christmas tree, he thinks maybe it isn’t that bad.
“Dream!” She half-cheers, not quite running over to him, “You’re coming?”
He opens his arms as she closes the gap and she bumps into him, gives him a quick hug. Her hair and cheeks are cold even through the jacket, but she seems cheerful enough. Behind her, Fundy lifts his bottle in greeting- Dream can’t see what it is from here, but Niki is drinking the sour cherry schnapps she favors. Straight? Oh, Niki.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he tells her honestly as he draws back, and he does not like the light frown that creases her forehead.
“Dream, no. I wouldn’t be disappointed. You couldn’t disappoint me.”
He stares at the ground. She takes his hand to drag him toward the little group.
“I’m just worried about you. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself, you’re going to pop. Have fun with us for a little bit, it’s okay to let go.”
She squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go, even as they meet Fundy. He’s drinking Dark Fruits.
“That’s the most tweenage thing I’ve ever seen you do, and I’ve seen you print ‘COCK’ in the middle of a test code presentation.” Dream nods at the bottle, and Fundy barks a little laugh.
“You can make fun of me for being a lightweight, but I spend less money than you do on nights out.”
“Fair.” Dream nods at him, turns to the people he doesn’t recognise. One of them, a taller guy with pink hair braided back, eyes him dubiously. It’s the same shade of bubblegum that Niki’s hair is, and they almost look like siblings when Dream looks between them. Pink guy’s eyes flick from his face to the spot that Niki is holding his hand. Oh, Jesus Christ. Is this an overprotective family member? Are they jealous? He’s sure he’s gonna find out.
The other guy is beaming brightly at him. He looks at first glance like the epitome of nerd, with glasses and the most basic haircut and the big smile, but Dream can see from the build of his shoulders that he’s not the usual wheedly little stick he associates with someone.. Uh… like him, really. Someone that sits inside and studies all day. Maybe he should go back to the gym, actually.
“Dream, this is Techno,” Niki gestures to pink guy, who nods, “And this is Charlie.”
Charlie offers a hand out brightly, chirruping a greeting. He’s so fucking bright, what is up with that? The name hits a second later-
“Wait- like, Quackity’s Charlie?” Dream asks.
“That’s me!” Charlie replies, shaking Dream’s hand and not noticing the flicker of a cringe he gives, “You’ve heard of me.”
“Oh, dude, Quackity talks about you all the time.” Dream shakes his head, it’s only a slight exaggeration, “His right hand man, all that.”
“Aw,” Charlie seems genuinely touched, “Shame he couldn’t come out tonight.”
“Law degrees.” Niki says with faux disgust, and Charlie nods. Techno scoffs.
“No real loss.”
“Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you have to be mean, Techno.” Niki scolds, “We love Quackity.”
“He’s annoying.”
“If you actually talked to him instead of arguing all the time, I think you’d change your mind.” Niki shakes her head, “Anyway! Are you ready to go?”
“Does anyone happen to have a bottle of anything I can get on before we go to the places where everything is loud?” Dream asks, to a snort of amusement from Techno. In seconds, Fundy is offering out a fresh bottle of Dark Fruits, Charlie is holding one of the little ‘shot’ bottles of something acid green, and Techno has a small bottle of Smirnoff Ice waiting in his hand. Niki clutches her schnapps closer. She is not willing to share, and Dream does not blame her.
“Thanks,” Dream says, and takes Charlie’s offer because it’s quicker to get down. And since Dream is taking one, Charlie hands them all the fruity little bottles. Techno gets raspberry, Niki gets cherry, Fundy gets orange, and Charlie joins Dream with the acid green apple flavor.
It’s not like it’s fucking, forty proof, but it still does burn a little on the way down in an artificial kind of way. Dream pulls a face, and that makes Techno laugh.
Dream grins at him, a little exasperated around the edge, but- hold on.
“Wait,” he says, “You’re in my literature class.”
“Was wonderin’ when you’d recognise me, yeah.” Techno replies, arms folded, “Knew you didn’t pay attention.”
“I pay attention!” Dream replies, indignant. Techno offers him the Smirnoff again, and he takes it, “Thanks. Anyway- I pay attention to the class, not the people.”
“Yeah, sure. You got an opener for that?” He gestures at the bottle, and Dream fiddles with his keys until he can flick the lid off. He scrabbles for it as it hits the ground, picks it up and looks around for a bin. None in sight. He pockets it.
“I got it.”
“Right. Let’s go- Niki, you’re in the lead.”
Niki loops an arm through Dream’s in place of holding his hand, and begins the journey into town.
“Is Wilbur coming?” Dream asks as they plod through.
“Yeah, meeting us there,” It’s Techno to answer. Dream’s head tilts.
“Oh, God. Oh God, you’re his brother.” The realisation, the memory of the name hits, and Techno laughs, like he can’t quite stop it before it barks out. It cuts off quickly, but Dream finds that he quite likes it.
“S’that what he’s been tellin’ you? I mean- yeah, I guess, that’s pretty close- he’s not my brother, but I guess family isn’t always blood. He’s as close as it’s gonna get.”
(Dream peels the edge of his left sleeve up and exhales that nothing has changed with the mark. Not Charlie. Good.)
Pacing the roads and talking about Wilbur reminds Dream that he’s not as alone as he thinks, sometimes. He thinks of Wilbur and Quackity and thinks of the nights spent up in the Peak District, thinks of Wilbur crying, the three of them huddled together in a comforting hug.
His mind is a little muffled by the shot and the drink he’s chasing it with, but he’s not even touching tipsy. It’s more like when he’s having a bad focus day and hasn’t had caffeine. Still, they turn up outside the… bar? Club? Somewhere in between? That Niki is taking them to and they spy Wilbur immediately, pressed against the wall with a cigarette in hand. They’re trying to convince him to quit. It’s going.
“Wilbur!” Niki calls, waves, and Wilbur drops from the conversation with the girl next to him to turn and beam at them. He stabs the mostly-finished cigarette into the box and comes half-sprinting over. Niki is the first to receive a massive hug, and Dream is second, the two of them wiggling back and forward for a bit. He pulls back to turn for Charlie, and Techno huffs about being last with no actual dedication behind it. Fundy, Dream knows, is not a big fan of hugs, but he does shoulder bump Wilbur when he’s done hugging the rest of them.
“How much have you had?” Techno asks Wilbur, who shrugs.
“A couple of cocktails. I don’t know, I’ve spent nothing.”
“Must be nice, being hot.” Techno rolls his eyes, and Wilbur giggles. Niki leans over to whap his arm gently,
“I think it’s more that Wilbur looks easy. You look more like you’ll stab someone.”
“And I pride myself on that fact, thank you. ”
“I know!” Niki beams, sliding the empty schnapps bottle in a nearby bin, “That’s why I said it!”
Dream finds he’s missed this, as they head in and order. He’s often too anxious and run down to come out with his friends, and when he’s holed up at home, it’s easy to forget how much he’s cared for. It’s hard to forget he’s wanted when Wilbur slides in next to him and leans in to speak in his ear,
“There’s a guy at the bar getting weird with me,” it’s too loud to whisper in here, but it’s still quiet. Immediately, Dream’s looping an arm around Wilbur’s waist. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence, the request, Dream is already pulling him into his side and shoots the bar in general a sour look. Wilbur takes to it happily- it’s not the first time they’ve had to pull this- and leans against his shoulder. Toward the bar, they can see Techno pulling something similar with Niki, curling an arm around her shoulders and glaring at the guy that was leering at her. They all know Niki can handle herself, but it doesn’t hurt to put out an aura of intimidation.
Tonight, it’s bad, apparently. The guy after Niki refuses to back off, even after she slaps him, even after the group slips into the night air so Wilbur can smoke.
“If he comes back,” Techno says quietly to Niki, “I don’t wanna overstep. I don’t think you’re incapable-”
“Techno,” Gently, “It’s okay, I know you don’t.”
“I wanna lay him out.”
“I won’t stop you, just don’t get in trouble.”
It’s all the permission Techno needs. He doesn’t give a shit about the law or social etiquette, but he does care about Niki and doesn’t want to do anything drastic without her go-ahead.
Anyway. Fifteen minutes later, and Techno is hovering over a groaning, now-damp man laid out on the ground with a blackening eye and a busted lip, and Wilbur is trying to hide behind Dream- fucking hilarious, given Wilbur is taller than him- as Dream glares at the guy from the bar chatting shit about stealing his man or fucking whatever. Techno whips around, swiping blood from the little split on his lip- guy got one hit in and it wasn’t even a good one- and strides over.
“This guy botherin’ you?” He asks Dream and Wilbur. Dream finally pulls his eyes from the guy to look to Techno, and shakes his head.
“I don’t think so. I think he’s going back inside.”
Bar guy looks like he’s about to argue, but looks over to where someone is peeling the other dude off the floor, looks to Niki, who’s shrugging back into her coat beside Charlie and Fundy, looks to Techno, who’s still bleeding.
“Fuck you,” bar guy manages, and slips back into the bar. Wilbur groans a warbling thanks, tosses the cigarette so he can wrap his arms around Dream’s shoulders.
“Forgot how much of a pain goin’ out was,” Dream shakes his head, “Are we done here?”
“Mhm, probably,” Niki looks at the sleeve of her jacket, wrinkles her nose, “That guy spilled something on me. I hope it doesn’t stain.”
“I’ll wash it for you,” Techno offers, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten a rough stain out.”
“There’s blood on your shirt,” Niki replies. Techno shrugs.
“Like I said. Rough stain.”
“Dream,” Wilbur says, quiet, in Dream’s ear, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
As Niki and Techno chatter, Dream turns to him. There’s a softness and a concern in Wilbur that there rarely is, but he tends to go tender when he’s drunk. Dream takes his hand.
“‘Course,” he says, “You okay?”
Wilbur shrugs.
“Rough night. You know how it can be.”
“I know,” Dream assures. It’s not a surprise when Wilbur kisses him. It rarely is, and he doesn’t mind, just huffs with amusement about it. It’s one of the really strange things he’s still getting used to with Wilbur, even knowing him a year and a half. He has a tendency to scramble boundaries and expectations, and though he’d never do anything without permission, some things just don’t mean what they’re expected to. They’ve made jokes that it’s how Dream shows emotional support, anyway.
They trudge back up to the street the majority of them live on. Dream still lives in the on-campus accommodation usually reserved for the first years, so he has a little further to go, waves his friends off as they head home. Wilbur trails him, a little like a lost puppy, at his back until Dream turns and offers his hand.
He’s not that drunk. Not really. He’s been worse, though Wilbur, being a lightweight, is fairly gone when they get in. Dream at least helps him with his laces and lets him shuffle out of the skinny jeans, lets him steal a pair of sweatpants he knows he’ll never get back.
It’s not the first time he’s had Wilbur collapse in his bed, won’t be the last. Every time he slips and begins to think that he’s unimportant, unloved, something stumbles around to remind him again that he is needed, wanted, adored.
Wilbur shuffles to press his forehead to Dream’s arm. The bed is narrow, and they don’t cuddle, but he always finds it easier to sleep when some part of them is touching. Dream finds he’s fairly similar, falling away to the rhythm of Wilbur’s breathing and the echo sensation of his own heartbeat.