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It was rare for Dream to decide to slow down and enjoy the small things in life ever since the Apple Incident.
He’d tried once or twice before when he first met Blue and Cross, the people he held dearest. They were both mortals and he’d figured they’d leave him in the blink of an eye if he weren’t careful. He didn’t want to wake up one day to find that they were no longer by his side. He didn’t want to miss out on the chance to tell them goodbye.
But standing still was the closest he could get to dying by his own hand.
His breaks never lasted.
He liked to think that it was because his brother never rested either. Nightmare didn’t have anyone that he considered worth slowing down for by his side. He wasn’t surrounded by people who would stay if he chose to do it. And he had a hunger for power that pushed him to keep going endlessly and consume everything on his path.
It was Dream’s job to keep him in check. So it was with a heavy soul that he had to follow his example and never rest. He had to keep up with him. He couldn’t lose. It was for the greater good. It was for everyone else’s sake.
He couldn’t think of his wants and needs for as long as the Multiverse remained under attack.
Still, once every blue moon he came across a sight that made him wanna pause if only for one minute. Breath in the peace that surrounded him. It didn’t truly count as him taking a break, he never allowed those moments of respite to last long enough for the tiredness he’d accumulated from years of fighting nonstop to catch up with him. He couldn’t afford for his mind to turn all sluggish and slow.
However, whenever he saw a beautiful flower field with a lone tree standing in the middle of it, he gave into his longing for a home he never truly had, and he sat down in the shade the branches provided him.
Sometimes he managed to pretend that his brother, the real one, was there right next to him, reading one of his massive books he’d gotten from who-knows-where.
He missed him.
He never lingered on those somber feelings of nostalgia and grief, but, if he was to be honest with himself for once, he could admit that they never left him.
It was on one of those rare occasions that he met Color for the first time.
The mortal sat next to him right as he was about to leave. He figured the other must have wanted to request something, so he politely remained seated right where he was. Instead, Color just pulled the camera he was carrying tied around his neck, up to his face and started scrolling through the pictures he must have taken that day. He didn’t say a word beyond an initial casual greeting, seemingly too engrossed with whatever he was doing to strike up a conversation.
Dream had found his behavior extremely confusing.
He wasn’t used to being ignored. Ever since he was a child, everyone always gravitated to him. He was a guiding light for mortals. A symbol of hope. A good omen. And in exchange for him blessing their lives with warmth and positivity, they offered him endless amounts of attention, admiration, and love.
That was the social contract everyone instinctively agreed to follow.
Everyone but his brother, his brother’s lackeys, and Color it seemed.
Dream wasn’t peeved about it, he rarely allowed himself to feel anger or even just frustration, but his interest was piqued by the lack of reaction. So he’d been the one to break the ice: “Hey there. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Dream, the Guardian of Positivity”. He kept his introduction brief. He never needed to sing his own praises, others did that for him more than enough.
Color glanced over for just a moment, though the hold that the little snapshots of that world he’d managed to immortalize in his device had on him was too strong for him to look away for long. “I think I heard about you” he answered, already looking away. “I’m Color”.
Dream had a feeling that the conversation would have died there had it been for Color.
He wasn’t much of a talker, that was for sure.
He reminded Dream a bit of his brother’s henchmen. They were a silent bunch too. He had actually never heard either Horror or Dust say a single word, and the only times Killer decided to speak were used to taunt him and his friends for their weakness and all of their perceived inadequacies. He still wanted to help them. Buried deep down, there must have still been some good in them, and he wanted to see that light flourish. He wanted to watch them become the best versions of themselves. But it was hard to do when they refused to listen and refused to take any helping hand.
Color didn’t look like he needed saving, but something about him was still reminiscent of a caged bird desperately trying to spread its wings.
“Oh, where did you hear about me?” he prodded lightly, mostly trying to keep the conversation going. Maybe if he managed to dig a bit deeper he’d be able to figure out what demons the other was hiding. He was happy to help after all!
“Mainly from Frisk”. After Dream let out a confused sound, Color decided to be merciful and clarify: “Core. They prefer going by Frisk”. As embarrassing as it was to admit, even after centuries of knowing the small gray child, Dream had never known that. They’d always been ‘Core’ to him. That was the name everyone else used when talking about them, and he didn’t spend enough time with them to think about asking them if that was alright by them. “I also heard a bit from Killer” Color added after a moment with a nonchalance that didn’t fit that kind of giant plot twist.
Unlike with Core - Frisk, he had met Killer plenty of times. Mostly on the battlefield, almost always as an enemy. He had, nonetheless, extended his help to him countless times. He was fully aware of how cruel his brother could be and knew that working for him could lead to nothing but suffering and misery. He fed off of that kind of negativity after all…
Regardless, he was surprised to learn that someone had managed to peacefully coexist with his brother’s right hand long enough to have a conversation with him. He was even more surprised that Killer brought him up, he kinda always thought that the other didn’t think about him at all any time he left his line of sight. He didn’t seem like the type to remember anything he felt to be inconsequential to him, and Dream had unfortunately never managed to get through to him.
“What did Killer say?” he asked maybe a tad too quickly and eagerly.
Color hummed thoughtfully. “If I remember correctly, he said you once told him that you believed there was some good left in him?”.
Dream remembered that conversation.
He’d stumbled across Killer when they were both alone once before. The other had been… distressed perhaps? His recollection of the events was a bit spotty. He helped so many people every day that he couldn’t be blamed for not remembering what he said to most of them. He thought he recalled trying to reassure his brother’s right hand that he didn’t have to be stuck where he was forever, that he’d be there if he needed an escape, that as long as hope and a desire for improvement burned within him, he’d always find an ally in Dream. Maybe he’d used different words, maybe his words hadn’t been quite as flowery, but it had been something along those lines.
He’d had similar talks one-on-one with all of Nightmare’s lackeys. They never led to anything, however. None of them ever reached out beyond it.
“I do” he still confirmed confidently, ignoring the seeds of doubt already gnawing at him. Dwelling on those too long would lead him nowhere. “Do you?”.
Color shrugged. “I mean, not really. I think Killer is empty on most days. I think sometimes, all he knows is violence. Sometimes all he knows is how to hurt others. I also know that he takes pride in his work. I know, to an extent, he will most likely always enjoy it. That’s what he was conditioned to do after all” he spoke so matter-of-factly. It was disappointing for Dream. Despite having been able to get close enough to his brother’s right hand, he had such a bleak view of the future. He was about to say as much, to tell him that there was hope for everyone still, Killer included, when Color continued his small rant. “And That’s why I’m helping him. Not because I want to reach for some ‘real him’ buried somewhere that doesn’t exist, but because I can see that he’s stuck in a difficult position. He needs help and he asked me to save him, so I simply will”.
Dream found himself stumped.
He’d be the first to admit that he never considered that to be an option.
Maybe it was because his brother too had begged him to save him once upon a time, before he turned into what he was now, and because, back then, he also promised that he would, only to regret it in the years that followed. There was nothing redeemable left in Nightmare. He’d never give up on him because he promised he wouldn’t, but he knew now that it was a completely pointless venture. It was a task he’d be stuck on forever.
Deep down, he resented that promise for it. He resented his twin for tricking him into thinking that there was still something worth saving there.
And maybe he was afraid of repeating the same mistakes. Or maybe he was just too old and wise to waste his time on a lost cause and yet too foolish and naive to realize that trying to help his brother’s followers was just that. Nothing but an endless goose chase.
He admired Color’s determination, but he no longer had the energy to wait around for someone who was never gonna change. He knew it would lead to nothing but pain.
However, as he could see the fire in Color’s eye, he thought the nicest thing he could do was to let him down gently. “He won’t change for you” he whispered. “They never do”.
Color didn’t have the bitter realization he was expecting him to have. He just scoffed and rolled his eye. “I don’t expect him to. I know that, if he changes in any way, it will always only be for himself. I won’t mind if he uses me as an excuse, but that’s the truth”. Dream wanted to intervene and tell him that even that didn’t seem likely. Not if Color was right about Killer being devoid of any goodness. Hope was required for any positive change. Then again, he supposed that Color hadn’t specified what kind of change he was talking about. “But he doesn’t owe me that. He doesn’t owe anyone that. He’s been other people’s easily moldable piece of clay for far too long. I’d be happy to discover who he is beyond that. I’ll be happy to meet any mask he introduces me to. And I will never mind it if there’s nothing hidden underneath them. I don’t care about that. I just want him safe and as happy as he can manage to be”.
Dream smiled and nodded politely. If Color wasn’t yet willing to listen to the truth, there wasn’t much more he could do for him. He couldn’t help someone so unwilling to receive any.
His last attempt at chatting with Color came in the form of a single question: “Is that what altruism is to you? Helping someone not because they deserved it, but because they asked?”.
He thought it to be such a simple non-offensive question, but it earned him a heated glare. “Everyone deserves help. Them not fitting your criteria for a ‘good’ person doesn’t mean they don’t. I think the very basis of altruism is understanding that”.
Ultimately, talking with Color that day didn’t lead to anything. They were an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Ideologically opposed on everything that mattered.
Dream admired Color’s hard work from afar. He kept an eye on him, though he rarely if ever stepped in to offer him his aid. He knew his assistance wouldn’t have been appreciated. It felt as if theirs was a missed friendship. They were in similar lines of work, and they had the same burning passion for helping others. And yet, in the end, that bond just wasn’t meant to be.