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There are a lot of different ways to die of blood loss.
‚Bleeding out can be initiated through a lot of ways. You can choose. Would you rather be Impaled, cut, amputated, ripped apart, poisoned, crushed, mauled, shot, stabbed,…‘
There’s different types of bleeding as well.
‚Both external and internal bleeding are, of course, lethal. Internal bleeding might delay death, though. The anxiety and shock you feel when seeing yourself bleed out will increase the heart rate, making you loose blood even faster. But does it actually matter if the person knows they are dying? It’s really up to the individual what they’d prefer.‘
It can also take quite a different amount of time to pass away.
A few seconds if you rapture a main artery.
‚The quickest single injury to bleed out from is a traumatic severance or rapture of the main artery, the aorta.‘ Hands gently pressing against his chest, his own heart beating steadily underneath.
‚The elastic recoil of the major arteries would be added to the cardiac output, that’s how much blood is being pumped by a heart per minute. The maximum that can be achieved is about 5 liters per minute.
Theoretically speaking, it’s even faster than piercing the heart directly. You would be dead within a heartbeat.‘ his breath stutters.
Up to a couple hours if only less important muscles and veins were damaged.
‚A much slower death would be possible as well. A healthy adult can loose 14% of their blood volume before they’ll show deviations in their vital signs. However if you loose about 2 liters of blood you will die. That’s about 40%. You will most likely start to fall unconscious at around 1.5 liters of blood loss.‘ his mouth runs dry.
The other man had explained it so nonchalantly, unbothered by the gruesome topic. Hauntingly specific details about blood loss in humans spilling from his lips like he was simply asked to recite the alphabet. He treats it like common knowledge.
As if he has seen it all a hundred times over.
For Punz, it takes 5 minutes.
At least that’s what Dream says. Of course it could be anywhere between 3 to 7 minutes but they are not going to keep count. It’s not like you’d be able to tell the difference while you’re bleeding out on the cold floor anyways. At least he hopes so.
„I‘ll take a sword through the stomach“ Punz said. His voice surprisingly quiet as he makes his decision. He isn’t sure why. He‘s never been particularly scared of death and especially now, that he knows he‘ll be revived, there is no reason to fear it.
He really shouldn’t be this shaken up at the thought. It‘s not a permanent thing, he‘ll be back within minutes. He knows it.
Yet, he can’t help the way the blood is rushing in his ears and his heart is beating faster than usual.
„Are you sure? I mean I‘m no doctor but I should be able to pierce the Aorta anyways. And even if I‘d miss, it would still be a faster death than getting impaled through your stomach area.“ If he‘d let himself believe it, he can almost make out concern lacing the others voice. The masked man’s well crafted facade of pack ice, melting and crumbling ever so slightly to show just a crack of worry. It’s kind of cute how Dream can actually seem to care about him sometimes. Well somewhat, considering how he’s suggesting different ways to kill Punz. It’s his way of caring, he supposes.
„On the other hand, I am not going to deny your wish, your Majesty“ Dream bowed mockingly, his heavy green coat swaying with the motion. „If you crave my sword in you, then so be it. Who am I to judge.“ he smirks behind the mask.
„I am actually going to slit your throat.“
„Alright“ Dream raises his hands in defeat, his shoulders shaking with a light chuckle before he spins around grabbing one of the many carefully smitten blades from the table behind him. His hands gliding carefully over the shining metal. The reflection mirroring the man’s smiling mask back at Punz. A few pure white curls poking out underneath the hood, a stark contrast to the dark green cloth. How often must it have been soaked in dark red blood for the others hair to be this white.
Wilbur’s strand has resembled his rebirth. A sign that a once dead man was brought back to life. Tommy has always hidden his. For him it was a mark of shame and defeat, laced with what can only be an incredibly traumatic experience.
Dream doesn’t have a white strand. His entire hair has been drained of it’s once honey gold color, leaving behind a shock of purely white hair. A reminder of how he has been more dead than alive at this point. Sometimes, Punz wonders if the other man is even alive. The way he hides his emotions and features makes him seem more like a ghost than a person. A god that doesn’t fear death, that has died hundreds of times willingly. To prove a point, to win arguments, to gain knowledge no one else has. Still, dying this often must do something to a human.
„Still, I don’t understand why you‘d want to pass this way. Sure, it is not the slowest method but 5 minutes of bleeding out are still 5 minutes.“ The blonde sighs at that. He hasn’t fully died before, but Dream has. He doesn’t know how it feels like to have your last life trickle through your fingers like sand, but Dream has. Punz doesn‘t see the difference between a death that only lasts seconds compared to a death that lasts minutes, but Dream does. It makes Punz falter a little.
He clears his throat, laying as much strength he can muster in his words: „We‘re studying limbos dependent on cause of death, remember? So we can revive the people of the Essempi regardless of how they died and know what exactly they went through between their death and their revival blablabla you get it.“ Dream‘s nod is barely visible, his heavy coat cloaking the slight movement.
„Now, while a rupture to my main artery would probably be less painful, it’s not really a death someone might experience here.“ the other man was inspecting a few different swords now. Flipping them in his hands, making the metal shine in the low light of the torches and lanterns. Punz swallows hard.
A small hum in agreement from the man makes Punz continue: „However, people do get stabbed a lot in this country. With all the wars that have happened and will probably continue to happen for a while, dying to a sword through your stomach is going to be a common death. We should know how it‘s like.“
It‘s the reasonable thing to say. An understandable argument with no faults that raise suspicion.
The truth lays deeper though. He doesn’t want to admit it, he probably couldn’t, even if he tries to. The way his vision begins to swim, bail rising in his throat and the blood rushing in his ears at the thought of death.
It’s unbearable.
He is an assassin. He killed for a living, endangering himself alongside it naturally. One too many times has he ended up with a dagger in his chest or a bullet in his shoulder. Heck, he can’t even count on one hand how often the dynamite went off just a bit too early, leaving Punz to limp away through dust and smoke, marked with burns trailing along his body. Death was never a foreign concept to him yet suddenly, it feels too close.
Too soon.
His throat tight and mouth dry whenever his eyes catch their reflection in Dream’s Sword. Wide and glassy as they stare back at him. Blinking and alive.
A slower death would mean more time to prepare himself for the end. Maybe finding peace in the way he‘ll feel sleepy and sluggish. His emotions fading into the background as the black takes over. Thoughts lazy whispers He just didn’t want it to happen too fast. Death isn’t permanent. Not for Punz. Not anymore. But it’s still a terrifying thing to happen.
„Well then“ Dream’s voice takes the blonde out of his thoughts. The man having spun around and looking at Punz expectingly. „Does your Highness want to choose the object of impalement themselves or shall my judgement be good enough?“ his arms swing widely, gesturing to the table as a mocking invite.
„God, stop talking like that“ he grumbles, stepping past the other to look at the different weapons. There are a lot. Laid out on the table are all sorts of swords and knives. Some made out of diamonds or gold, others made from netherite.
Some having patterns and runes engraved in them, others shining with all variations of different enchantments.
His hands trail over the weapons. Careful fingers ghosting over cold blades. He‘s never been afraid of swords or knives. Morning stars, katanas, crossbows, axes, any weapon for that matter. The blonde has always admired the craftsmanship that shows in them. How much they can do to someone, not just physically.
A sword can say so much without words. If it’s raised it is going to strike or held triumphantly into the sky, a silent cheer of victory, dominance.
A sword can clash against another blade in a fury of anger, desperation, or for fun in a playful sparring match with a friend or brother.
It can be thrown onto the ground in defeat, a beg for mercy.
Punz has never been the one on the other end of the blade, but that is going to change today. He can’t help the tremble of his fingers as they touch the cold metal. He is shaking. The way the material feels so familiar and yet painfully foreign in it’s purpose this time is unnerving. The blonde takes a steadying breath before his arms retreat back to his sides.
His eyes catch on the gems embedded in the leather handle of a netherite longsword. The vibrant stones shining in the low light in a beautiful dark green. He wonders if they’ll look ruined with his blood on them.
They sure are quite impressive.
Must be worth a fortune.
Crystals are pretty.
I like them.
God, I‘m going to die.
„How do you want me to talk to you?“ the assassin blinks back into reality. He can feel Dreams eyes on him, watching him closely. His presence making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. „What?“
„You told me to stop talking like that“ the white haired man steps closer, body heat mingling where he moves to stand close behind the blonde. Hand brushing against Punz’s as he places his next to it on the table. The touch making the assassin loosen the death grip he had on the wood, absently rubbing his still white knuckles. He didn’t even realize he was holding onto it.
„So tell me, how would you like me to talk to you instead?“ the man’s voice is low, a teasing lilt lacing his tone. It helps break Punz’s mind away from his death.
The blonde chuckles but it sounds a bit empty. He turns around to face the other man, cupping his jaw and pulling his hidden face closer. He‘s used to overplaying his anxiety with cockiness, the bold move helps to calm his nerves. Their little game of pushing and pulling a familiar territory he‘s gladly willing to flee himself into, away from the unfamiliar thought of death.
He hums thoughtfully, swiping his thumb over Dreams soft cheek, memorizing every hidden bump and scar underneath his touch. „Is that an offer?“ he hums, tilting his head slightly. He isn’t sure where he and Dream are standing when it comes to their relationship. Their flirting and teasing either being met with snarls or the other playing into it. It was as confusing as it was addictive.
The masked man presses closer, hands placed on the table either sides of Punz, trapping him. The assassin’s breath blows over the porcelain smile, matching the mischievous grin of the man underneath: „Do you want it to be?“
It was tempting, more than that even. Having the other close with a tension so electric that Punz could feel the lightning trying to connect the men. Jumping over the inches of space between them. His piercing blue eyes rake shamelessly over Dream’s body. He was hyper aware of how close they were, the hair on his body rising where the white haired man brushed against his flaming skin. The blonde smirked: „yes.“
He grabbed the man by his waist, digging his fingers into Dreams hips, hard enough to leave bruises, when suddenly the lightning struck. White, dizzying pain shot through his body. The man crying out as he doubled over himself. The suffering returning tenfold, as Dream pulled the sword he had rammed through the assassins back, out again. The bloodied iron clattering to the ground somewhere beside them.
Punz chocked on a mouthful blood, rising up his throat and poisoning his mouth. He didn’t have time to catch his thoughts, wet eyes still glued to the flood of his blood pooling out of his stomach and staining his white hoodie. Dream was talking to him as he lowered the blonde to the ground, but everything was muted. Every noise distant and distorted as if he was drowning underneath heavy waves, swaying him with the motion of the sea. „What the fuck“ he managed to croak out, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears.
„You we’re taking too long.“
The shock was starting to ebb, allowing the pain to spread it‘s vines through his mind. Hooking into every inch and corner, blinding his senses with pure agony. Dream cooed at him, mumbling comforting words and shushing his grunts and groans.
Dream’s hands gently brushed bloodied thumbs over increasingly paling skin, smearing dark red trails in soothing circles. A grounding comfort to keep the assassins mind away from the blinding pain. „You’re actually really fucking attractive when you care like this“ Punz slurs as he keeps his unfocused eyes trained on the other’s porcelain mask. Dream’s hands freeze briefly in their motion.
„You‘re dying of blood loss. Stop fucking flirting.“ the man hissed, taken aback at the assassins blunt words. Punz hums silently. Nothing feels to register really. His thoughts drowning underneath pain and floods of adrenaline. His body trembling where he‘s laying in a pool of blood. His blood. God, he’s bleeding out.
The blonde can feel his own shallow breath ghosting over the white mask. It‘s not quite white anymore. It‘s pinkish, like a rosy smeared tint.
„You‘re blushing“ the blonde grins.
„What?“
But before Punz could elaborate a wet cough shakes his body, more blood dripping from his lips as he curls in on himself, crying out in pain as all of his nerves scream at the movement. Dream immediately moves to hold his shoulder’s back, cautiously keeping the dying man from disrupting the gaping wound even more. Soft shushing accompany desperate gasps for air. „It‘s okay, Punz. Deep breaths okay? Keep breathing. Or don’t, it doesn’t… doesn’t actually matter.“ The joke falls flat where the assassin wrings in agony.
The pain is hot and overwhelming. His heart thumping so quickly in his ribcage it feels inhuman. Whimpers and whines the only thing escaping the blondes lips as he slowly tries to steady his breathing. He can feel his own blood soaking into his clothes even more. His blood. The room is spinning around him, colors fading in and out of existence. The assassin doesn’t know if it‘s a tinnitus that’s ringing in his ears or his own screaming. Is he even screaming? He can’t tell.
„Easy, come on breath with me“ Dream’s voice feels distant but Punz tries to cling to it. It’s hard to follow along, every shaky inhale of air feels like swallowing glass. It reeks of blood, the red liquid dripping from his tongue and staining the air with the heavy taste of iron.
With every heaving breath, the spinning slows down and the ringing grows quieter as the adrenaline begins to take over again.
„Just like that, you’re doing so good, Punz“
„God, you-" can’t just say that stuff to me, is what the blonde wants to joke but the words crumble on his tongue. Speaking seems too exhausting. Not while he’s still trying to catch his breath.
After a few more seconds the worst of the pain has faded back into a muffled throb. Instead the dizziness clouds his mind again. Hiding the pain and anxiety behind a thick layer of fog. The blonde blinks, trying to clear his spotty vision, focusing on the droopy smiley face. The soft rosy tint disrupted by splatters of dark blood.
He wants to hear something other than his ragged breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. He wants to hear Dream, wants to talk to him. Anything to avoid the thought of his death looming over him
„You‘re turning red.“ Punz mumbles, wincing at the way his voice feels like needles in his throat. Even words taste like iron, like death. His death.
„I‘m wearing a mask, Punz. The red is your blood.“ The other responds with half a mind. His attention else where while he‘s trailing his hands underneath the ripped hoodie, along the blondes torso. Careful fingertips ghosting over tracks of blood, painting a picture of the lethal wound. It sends shivers up Punz’s spine. Dream is probably inspecting the damage, guessing how long it’s going to take for death to settle in, draining the last bit of consciousness. Luring the assassin into cold darkness.
„My blood is on your face?“ Punz’s voice is rough as he breaks his train of thought. He needs Dream to talk to him.
„My mask and my face, yes.“
„Huh“ The blonde can see his vision black in and out for a few seconds before his head lolls back. The masked man hisses through gritted teeth as his hands shoot up in an instant to stabilize Punz’s head. Carefully lifting it back upright, their faces once again right in front one another.
There’s blood dripping from the blonde’s nose and mouth clouding all his senses with a sting of iron. The sticky liquid staining his teeth. He gazes back at Dream through half-lidded eyes: „That’s hot.“ The other sighs but Punz can tell he isn’t actually annoyed. The way he stays so close, their body heat mingling, faces still only inches apart. You could almost say he likes the teasing flirts.
Of course he could also just be concerned for the blonde. Staying so close to make sure he can help if things get worse. But if there is one thing Dream isn’t, it’s caring.
He blinks slowly before an idea starts to form in his mind. The pain being pushed to the back as temptation urges him to try to do more. Be it a distraction to keep his mind away from the cold that’s slowly creeping into his bones.
The other man’s wet fingers gliding upwards where they tangle in blonde strands, rubbing soothing patterns along the assassin’s sweaty scalp. He leans into the touch with a content hum. It helps the pounding headache that feels like daggers being hammered into his skull.
He could get used to bleeding out if Dream treats him like this more often. The gentle touches, sharing each others warmth and the way he just let’s Punz say whatever he wants.
The assassin might be a bit delusional from blood loss, but there has to be something about this that makes Dream switch like that. The blonde can hear it in the others slightly quickened breathing and the lack of emotional masking in his voice. It makes him wonder how far he could get this to go.
„Are you ever going to take it off?“ he asks, his voice raspy and cracking, wincing as a wave of pain briefly floods through his body.
The fingers in his hair stop for a moment before they continue drawing their pattern: „My mask?“ Dream asks.
Punz huffs lightly, a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth: „Yes. Although...“ his eyes trail down the other man’s chest before lazily flicking back up. „I wouldn’t mind more than the mask.“ His vision is unfocused, the painted black smiley a blur that only clears after a couple of sluggish blinks.
„You‘re so dumb“ the other mumbles but the blonde can hear him blushing. No need to see his pretty face if his voice carries emotions like a mirror. It’s not normal. Punz knows that very well. Dream is usually really reserved, every thought hidden behind a mask or shining armor, even his words seemingly cloaked from any and all feelings or intentions. But right now? Right now is different. Something about this situation is getting under the other’s skin and Punz is more than willing to use it.
He grins, revealing a set of bloodied teeth before he starts to lean forward. The room spins again and the pain shooting through his body makes him groan but he doesn’t care. This is great.
„Wait, what are you-" Dream shrieks as he holds the assassin up. His hands under Punz’s armpits to keep him from falling over. The two mens faces only inches apart, the tip of the blonde’s bloody nose brushing over the cold material of the smiling mask. He just smiles back, a slight chuckle shaking his body. Or maybe it’s the cold, he doesn’t know. Who cares anyways. All clouded senses focused on the white haired man whose quickened breathing is a fitting match to his own shallow one.
„Come on, Sweetheart. You wouldn’t deny the wish of a dying man, would you?“ He chuckles his forehead leaning against Dream’s mask with a silent bump. He can smell his breath as it blows against the porcelain. God it smells like blood, it drives his senses mad. Bloodlust rushing through him.
„You’re lucky you are already dying or you’d be dead twice over for the shit you’re pulling.“ Despite his words, the man isn’t making a move to bring space between them. Punz’s head still pressed against Dream’s. It makes the blonde chuckle even harder, blinding pain stopping him with a whine.
„Mmh“ he hums. A tired giggle widens his grin even further: „you can kill me again, if that’s what you’re into. I‘d prefer getting choked to death next time, though“
„Oh my god“ The other groans. He’s probably rolling his eyes but that sweet crack in his voice exposes him anyways. He is getting to him, it’s obvious. If he ignores the fact that he’s bleeding out, Punz is honestly having the time of his life.
„You seem like the type of guy that likes it-" the blonde gasps for air as another sharp pain shoots through his body. „rough“ he finishes, lip quivering from exhaustion. Suddenly 5 minutes do feel too short. 5 minutes of having Dream this effected by every small comment and flirt. 5 minutes of seeing a whole other side that is oh so tempting. „Really?“ Dream chuffs amused „what gave you that impression?“ his tone dropping a few octaves.
Oh god, he’s playing into it.
Punz’s eyes open again, wandering slowly to the discarded sword, that had impaled him just a few minutes prior, before they settle back on Dream. „Just a feeling“ he grins. His cold hands move up to cup the masked mans jaw, painting the burning skin with red drops that roll down his exposed throat. The blonde is so cold, only now with the others warm skin on his, it’s apparent how close to death he is.
He wants to feel warm.
„You know, if you want to choke someone…“ he let’s his hands wander down Dream’s throat, placing his trembling thumbs on either sides of the other’s windpipe, the rest of his hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Drops of blood rolling down the exposed skin. „You shouldn’t apply pressure on the windpipe directly.“ he can feel the masked man swallow hard underneath his hands. He leans to the other’s ear, mouth quirking upwards in a snarl.
„It can really fuck up someone’s throat“
Punz can hear Dream’s breathing stutter, his cold fingertips briefly brushing over goosebumps along the other’s neck. No response. That’s fine, he can make the other react. He slowly starts to strengthen his grip on the mans throat, grinning as he can feel him tremble slightly. „Mmh what‘s wrong Dream?“ he hums, fingers playing with white baby hair curling on the back of his neck. „Nothing to say? What‘s gotten into you?“ Punz leans forward, resting his chin on the masked mans shoulder.
„Not a fan of blood?“ he watches as bit of blood drips from his mouth, rolling down Dream‘s neck. It looks so pretty, the dark red contrasting his soft pale skin. His gaze follows the rolling drop, the hair on the mans neck standing up where the liquid leaves it’s trail. Iron clouding his senses as the blonde licks his lips. „It‘s quite the opposite, isn‘t it?“ his words slurred where he whispers them into the others ear. „You got a thing for this, don‘t you?“ A wet chuckle shaking his body as he‘s starting to feel lightheaded. He feels alive and dead at the same time. Skin prickling with both thrumming anxiety and excitement. „You‘re totally crazy Dream.“
„I‘ll break your spine and hurry this whole deal up, if you don’t watch your mouth, Punz.“ The blonde laughs silently at that, pressing further down on Dream’s throat and flashing his teeth in delight as the other man clicks his mouth shut. „You want to break my back? Please do.“ He sighs. His hands trail upwards, tangling into white curls and scratching behind red ears. Burying his face into the crook of the masked man’s neck, he can feel the heat radiating from him. He wants to feel just as warm.
The pain is starting to get the upper hand again. Slowly flowing over his cloudy mind like waves, dragging over his senses like the ocean over the shore. The cold embracing him in a frightening promise of death, ready to pull him under black water.
„You‘re delusional from blood loss. Nothing you’re saying means anything.“ Punz isn’t sure if Dream is actually speaking to him or if he’s just talking to himself. He can’t bother to think about it, instead focusing on the feeling of his migraine dulling ever so slightly at the comforting rumble of the masked man’s voice. „God, I don’t care. I want to make out with you so bad right now.“
„You’re dying, Punz.“
„And you like it“ he coughs, blood dripping onto Dream’s collarbone where the assassin’s face is still nuzzled against.
His vision spinning, black spots dancing in the corner of his eyes. „You like it. You‘re actually nuts. Like really-" his arms retreat back to his side, feeling way too heavy to continue playing with the masked man’s hair. „crazy“ he finishes. Chuckling slightly where his head stays pressed against Dream’s shoulder. The man stays silent, slightly swaying side to side like he’s rocking a child to sleep. Or maybe he isn’t moving and it only feels like it. Punz presses his eyes shut but the darkness keeps on spinning around him.
„You’re completely insane. It’s so hot“ he breathes. Dream chuckles blowing a puff of air over the blonde’s scalp. Carefully lifting Punz’s head off his shoulder, gently tipping his chin upwards. Small black dot-eyes staring into unfocused blue one’s. Punz is swaying, he can only tell by the way the pain grows worse with every slight movement. His body feels heavy like led, staying upright growing harder with every second in this spinning room.
„Insane doesn’t even come close to it“ the white haired man huffs. „You haven’t seen half of me.“ Punz can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. His heart rate tripling at the sound of the man’s voice. The adrenaline that comes with those small comments and flirts is like a drug. It definitely used to be money that made him string along but at this point, Dream is paying him with a different sort of bribe. The gold is just a nice added bonus.
„Is that a promise?“ he asks, mockingly batting his lashes at the man, bloodied teeth shining in an innocent smile. „Because I really want it to be.“ Dream doesn’t react much besides a slight tilt of his mask, sizing him up. Only god knows what he’s thinking. The ruined porcelain hiding every oh so sweet secret about the man.
Punz whines as another stabbing pain shoots through his body, once again reminding him of his lethal wound. „I don’t think there is a side of you I don’t want to see.“ he mumbles, eyes half lidded as they trail over the white haired‘s body.
„And here I was, thinking stabbing you would make you shut up.“ Dream hums, hands cupping the assassins jaw, fingers swiping away trails of half-dried blood.
„That’s not gonna work“ the blonde grins „but I can think of a handful of things that could.“ His hands move upwards, fingers hooking into the collar of the others shirt. His eyes gleam with lust and mischief as he leans forward. He’s already dying, at least he wants to feel good during it.
Dream pulls the assassin‘s hands away from his chest, shaking his head with a sigh: „Punz, you are dying. What are you even trying to get out of this?“ Punz chuckles lowly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards: „I dunno, a kiss?“ The puddle of blood underneath him only a distant sensation as his ears start to ring. „Or maybe I am trying to get you out of your clothes.“
He screams in pain as Dream presses down on his wound, a bile rising in his throat as his mouth fills with blood. „You really gotta learn when to stop talking“ the man sighs. Punz is still trying to catch his breath, blood dripping from his lips down his neck. Ouch. His vision is blurred and spotted, the corner of his eyes barely more than black fog slowly closing in. The white haired‘s hands move back up again, gently scratching his scalp and carefully playing with messy strands. How can he be so sweet and straight up cruel within a few heartbeats? And why is it attractive.
Punz smiles, letting his own fingers trail along Dream’s leg, slowly rising further up before they rest on his inner thigh.
„You can always show me how to shut up“ he grins, licking his lips. The masked man sighs shakingly, pulling the blondes head forward to have a proper look into his eyes. At least that’s what Punz assumes the other is doing. It’s hard to tell with all the spinning and those growing dark spots obscuring his view. „I‘m not going to do anything, Punz. Stop trying.“ The assassin opens his mouth to complain, the pain etching throughout his entire body accompanying his screaming anxiety as reality slowly comes crashing down on him again. But he couldn’t get a word out before the masked man cuts in:
„You are bleeding out. You’re completely out of your mind. I am not gonna do shit.“
„But if I weren’t, you and I would fuck.“ Dreams hands stiffen where they are holding the other’s head. Punz can practically hear the gears turning in his head.
„I‘m going to ignore that you said that and we‘re moving on“ he mumbles bewildered, shaking his head slightly before dipping in a bit closer, the black dot eyes basically staring into Punz’s soul. His now very shallow breaths blowing over the porcelain.
It actually bothers him. The mask covering everything he wants to see. The sloppy smile feeling more and more like a taunt. Dream has shown his face before, he hasn’t always hidden it, Punz knows that. He presumably started wearing it after the first war started, a purely tactical move to cloak his intentions and motives from his enemies. But at this point it’s a part of him rather than a calculated play in battle. The handful of people, that have seen him, describe his face as hard and cold. Piercing Green eyes with a manic glint in them.
Punz doesn’t know how much to believe, most stories told to scare people away, painting everything in black and white. Dream as the evil villain that can’t be considered human anymore and everyone else as the great hero fighting for ’the right thing.' Heck, he can’t count on one hand the amount of times he has heard people whisper about the masked man, swearing under hushed breaths that he is a demon with the horns and tail of a goat. That’s bullshit obviously. They probably like to give the masked man inhumane features to justify their cruel actions and thoughts. As long as Dream isn’t actually human, torture and imprisonment without social interactions is okay. And then they play surprised when the man just gets worse.
It’s pathetic.
But still, even if some of those stories were to be true, the blonde can’t help the flutter in his stomach when imagining glowing emerald eyes staring back at him instead of those dull black dots. The insane flash they supposedly have, only making his heart beat faster with excitement. He would give all of his riches to see underneath this god damn mask.
„Does it ever bother you?“ he grits his teeth, hissing silently as another wave of pain rushes through his body. „Wearing a mask, I mean?“ Dream hums in thought, head tilting to the side. „Having your face covered all the time, it must be frustrating, right? Doesn’t it cover more than a face at this point?“ Punz tries to blink away the fog clouding his eyes. „Doesn’t it not only obscure your view but also possible opportunities as well?“
The other man chuckles a bit: „Is that like your stages of death? First you get horny and then philosophical?“ The question doesn’t register underneath the blaring tinnitus in the blondes ear.
„Like… Isn’t it annoying to see me and not be able to kiss me?“ Punz groans, god dying does suck, Dream was right. He should have guessed that honestly. Dream has never been wrong ever since they started working together. It’s a bit unsettling. Maybe he should have taken up his offer on a quicker and less painful death. Yet, the thought of having less and less time before death will take over is so much worse than the feeling of bleeding out.
„Nevermind“ Dream huffs amused, fingers lightly brushing blonde strands behind Punz’s ear. He grins, leaning into the touch.
„I mean I‘m open for it anytime. If you ever take it off, feel free to just grab and kiss me whenever. I‘m not gonna complain.“ the assassin sighs lazily. He really wants a kiss. „I can totally understand how frustrating it must be, to look at me and wanting to kiss me so hard I can’t remember my own name, but that fucking mask is in the way and all.“
„I think you are projecting, Punz“
„I‘m what?“ he slurs, the ringing coupled with his cloudy mind making it incredibly hard to stay aware. Dream just hums thoughtfully, one hand moving up to open one of his eyes wider. The blonde groans at the blinding light, as he tries to shake the fingers off.
„You are about to fall unconscious.“
What?
The words cutting through the cotton in his mind in an instant. He can feel himself freeze up, anxiety rushing through every part of his body, making him hyper aware of just how painful his wound actually is.
Feeling yourself dying is horrifying. The tinnitus blaring in his ears, a migraine hammering in his skull, the way his thoughts are slow and sloppy, heart rate tripled from anxiety. And the warmth slowly but surely fading from his body.
Death is cold. So cold
That might be the worst part.
Feeling your own body cold and weak. It’s terrifying.
Dream has been killed with a sword before, twice. Right before his arrest. He doesn’t like to talk about that time, but Punz can see how much worse it must have been for the man. Bleeding out, exposed and completely vulnerable surrounded by his enemies with shining netherite weapons trained on him.
He died with his dignity and pride slaughtered, without someone to hold him and play with his hair like he is doing for Punz.
Followed by years of imprisonment without social interactions besides literal torture.
They really haven’t given this man a reason to not become completely crazy. Yet, he gently cradles the blonde’s face with so much care, it should be impossible. Not a single sign of his insanity and past.
„It’s best if you stop going against it now. It will be over soon.“ Dream slowly lowers Punz down to the floor. The assassin can’t fight it, too weak to stay upright without the other man’s support. His hand‘s shoot up, clawing into the green cloak. His grip could easily be shaken off if Dream just moved further, no strength left in his fingers could actually form a resistance. He hopes the gesture is enough.
The masked man stops, still halfway leaning over the dying man, one arm curling around the later‘s back to keep him from falling. It still feels like he is.
„Can I…“ the blonde swallows a mouthful of blood, hands trembling from exhaustion or maybe it’s fear, he can’t be certain. „A kiss?“ he rasps out. Dream looks down at him, black dots with no emotions. Unblinking and unchanging, not saying a word. „Or a hug? Please. It’s so cold.“ His vision is starting to become more blurry than it was before.
The lights are too bright, the blood rushing in his ears is way too loud and god, it’s just too much.
„So so cold“ his voice is barely above a whisper, at least he thinks it is. He might as well be screaming, his vocal chords straining at the effort to talk. Dream freezes, the hand on Punz’s back stiffens slightly. The tilt of the smiling mask hard to notice, barely more than a white blur in the blonde’s unfocused eyes. He doesn’t know what’s running through the other’s head.
Punz is dying, he knows it and he feels it. He doesn’t have long left, everything in him screaming to close his eyes and just let the darkness take over. But he can’t. He doesn’t want to be cold.
A few beats of silence pass, something shifting in the masked man’s posture before he carefully lifts the assassin back up. Punz doesn’t have the strength to hold himself upwards, slumping forward into Dream’s chest. He hums content at the warmth radiating from the white haired’s body, the man’s deep, rhythmic breathing a stark contrast to Punz’s shallow, broken one.
He can feel Dream’s heart where he is pressed against the masked man’s torso, the sound a dull comfort. it’s beating slightly faster than normal, he notes.
„Are you sure?“ the man’s voice rumbles, sending a pleasant shiver down the blonde’s spine. Blood is dripping from the corner of his mouth, staining the other man’s shirt even more. It’s going to be a pain to wash all of that out. „About wanting a kiss?“ Dream sounds almost shy in the way he lowers his voice, whispering it into blonde curls. Punz huffs, flinching ever so slightly at the wave of pain flooding briefly through his body. „Very“ he mumbles, response muffled where his face is buried in the white haired’s chest.
Dream shifts, there’s a metallic click, barely audible beneath the ringing in the assassins ear, before warm hands gently cup his jaw, carefully angling his head upwards. Punz gazes at Dream through half lidded eyes. Instead of a giant white circle staring back at him, a soft blur of a face holds his eye contact. He blinks, trying to clear his vision just enough to recognize any of the man’s features, he had wanted to see so desperately for such a long time, but to no avail. The unmasked man staying cloaked behind a thick layer of fog clouding the blonde’s view.
Dream knows this too, or else he would have never taken off his mask. That bastard.
„I bet you’re really pretty if you weren’t so blurry“ he slurs, flashing bloodied teeth in a grin. The white haired man hums amused, pulling the blonde’s face closer and dipping his own head. „You’re so stupid“ Dreams breath blows over Punz’s face, making the assassin part his lips subconsciously. His pupils blown wide where he waits for the other to close the gap.
They are so close, the assassin can smell the man’s earthy scent, pine and evergreen leafs mingling with the heavy iron sting of blood. It feels like a drug, making him lightheaded.
He can feel his own heartbeat picking up, foggy thoughts spinning in wonky ovals as he’s unable to grasp any. The only thing clear in his mind is that he wants to finally feel the other’s lips on his.
And then Dream leans in, soft lips meet his. A shy touch that sparks a glowing ember in the assassins chest. It feels like dipping your toes to test the water, uncertain but hopeful. Excitement stirring in the blondes stomach at the small notion. And when Dream breaks from their kiss, all he can think about is how he wants more.
A heartbeat of silence filled with slightly quickened breaths and racing thoughts and feelings that dared them for more. It couldn’t have been more than a second before the white haired man strengthens his grip on Punz’s jaw, pulling him in and reconnecting their lips with a newly flared up heat.
Eyes fluttering shut with a plethora of colors exploding behind Punz’s eyelids. Butterflies erupting in his stomach where he pushes further into the kiss. It’s messy and sloppy, soft and gentle at first before gradually getting more intense, a deep sort of hunger fueling their movement.
Teeth clicking where they bump against each other in a desperate attempt to get closer, the assassin‘s hands rising up to slowly drive his fingers through white curls. He feels like he’s been set ablaze. Their kiss, the spark that set the gasoline in flames. Trapping them in a ring of fire.
They pull at each other, clinging to one another like a lifeline as their hearts beat twice as fast.
Dream’s mouth leaves his breathless where the man breaks from their kiss, his thumb swiping salvia and blood from Punz’s bottom lip. „Just so that we‘re on the same page“ he rasps, his voice hoarse „You‘re dying, that’s why I‘m doing this. Don’t get any ide-"
„God, just shut up“ Punz grunts, pulling Dream back in, mouths clashing together with lightning sparking in his heart.