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It was dark, the sun was long set. Any warmth in the air had dried up with the sun, chilly winds racking over Dream's small body. The villagers had lots of tasks he needed to do. They had many today, and the day before, and the day before that, and the days before that.
Dream was tired. Exhausted, maybe, but he was the guardian of the tree and this town, meaning he had to help. Help these people with everything he could while Nighty watched over their mother. He was finally headed home, his steps getting lighter the closer he marched to the tree. Likely because of their Mother's strong energy.
He could not spot his brother as he got closer, probably up in the branches then. Nightmare almost never left their mother, unless Dream was there in his place. But that almost never happened anymore. Dream was needed in the village, and nightmare wasn't as charitable as him. Which was okay! He had another job to do.
Skipping up a few branches, Dream was able to spot the deep purple of his brother’s vest. He was curled up into a nook in their Mother’s wooden body, knees pulled up to his chest as he read. All the weariness of his body from his long day of helping vanished as he skurried over to his twin.
“Brother!” He calls out in excitement, his booted feet tapping against the strong branches of his Mother. His arms were open, no fear of falling off, ready to embrace his other half.
Nightmare simply curls up on himself more, not deigning Dream with a response. That was okay! Nighty was likely tired from a long day of keeping the tree safe. Who knows how many owls might’ve tried to make Mother their new home.
Dream’s pittering comes to a stop as he sits next to his brother, “Night! Nighty!! Guess what?” He scoots closer, almost vibrating with excitement.
Nightmare furrows a brow, continuing to look at his book, “... what?”
“I love you!” Dream smiles, glowing with joy.
The book snaps shut.
Dream tilts his head, “Is everything okay, brother? Was there another owl attack?” he looked off into the trees fearfully.
“No. There wasn't an ‘owl attack’, you baby. Owls don’t attack trees.” Nightmare glares at his brother, his little phalanges pressing hard into his book cover.
Dream frowns, his booted foot scrapping against their Mother's bark, “’m not a baby, I just don’t like owls. And they do too attack trees! You had to fight them off Mom, remember!"
“I didn’t ‘fight them off Mom’,” Nightmare’s glare sharpened, "I shooed them away so you’d stop crying and whining.”
Dream’s face flashed with hurt, “...that wasn’t very nice-”
“Yeah, well, I'm not very nice!” The boy shouted, standing up and glaring down at his brother. His book trembled in his hand, “Maybe it’s time you learned that you idiot!"
The book Nightmare had been reading was raised above his head, and it made a soft thud as it hit Dream’s skull, bouncing down into the grass below.
The two brothers sit in silence for a moment, Nightmare breathing deeply as he stared down at his (perfect-pathecit-sweetheart-loser) twin brother, while Dream sat in confusion.
The book had hurt. It had hurt a lot. The corner had hit his skull, and there was what felt to be a small dent.
Yet it didn’t hurt as much as his soul, burning in his chest, crying out as to why his brother was to throw his book. At him. At his skull.
They’ve fought before, back when they were baby bones. Before the villagers arrived, they never left each other's side, which would lead to constant fights. But they never fought like this. Not so one-sided. Never so painful. Sure, maybe one of them would break a bone, or they’d fall and crack a rib. They'd cry for a while, and wail as their Mother’s energy fixed them up, but never was an attack so visceral. So angry. So… hurtful.
Tears gathered in his sockets, feelings he couldn’t name pulling down at his soul.
His tiny phalanges pressed against the wound as he started off at nothing.
“... Well!” Nightmare shouts, his face screwed up into a mean, mean glare, “What do you have to say about that? Huh?” Dream stays still. His hands still over the dent, “... Stop ignoring me!” Nightmare steps closer to Dream. Dream flinches back.
Nightmare pauses. The rage that had consumed him just moments before seemed to wash away like an ocean washing away debris. He stares down at his brother, then looks down at the grass to his book -one dream had gotten him a few years back, all about the biology of bugs!- and wants to throw up.
He takes a step back, then another, and another until his back is pressed against their Mother as he stares at the curled up body of his brother. His perfect brother, the boy who can do no wrong and is so, so kind. Who helps the villagers even when he doesn't have to. Who pushes through his exhaustion to help everyone around him, Nightmare included.
Nightmare just hurt him, hurt him bad. He had wanted to hurt him. Hurt him worse. Make him cry and beg and weep and-
Nightmare was just as bad as everyone said, wasn’t he…
“Brother…” Dream whispers, snapping Nightmare’s attention back onto him, “I… is something wrong?” he looks up. His golden eyes are filled with tears as he stares up at his brother, confused and dazed, not processing what just happened yet.
“I-...” Nightmare stops. Dream needs to get out. He isn’t safe. He's going to hurt him again. And again. And again. Until Dream is nothing but a pile of dust. Of course those villagers were right! He would destroy his brother, he doesn't- he can’t- not Dream!
“Brother…” Dream questions, finally standing up, his legs shaky, the exhaustion of the day slamming into him again, “Nighty i-”
“Go away!” Nightmare shouts as loud as his little voice can go.
“What?” Dream blinks.
“I said go away. Leave me alone!” He glares at Dream, pointing to the side as he yells.
“But nighty-”
“Fuck off! Leave me alone! I don’t want to be around you!”
Dream blinks. And blinks again. His big eyes wide with hurt. He moves to speak, but Nightmare sharpens his glare.
It’s quiet for a moment, as the two look at each other. Then, Dream looks away. Golden tears fall from his sockets as he climbs down their Mother and lands softly on the grass. He didn’t know what to do, how to help his -sweet, awesome, cool, clever, kind- brother, how to make things better.
So he did what he does best. He listened. And he left.
He trotted back down to the village, tucked himself away in one of the horse stalls, curled up in his cape -a gift given by Nightmare many moons ago- and sobbed.
~~~~~~
Nightmare turned away the moment dream left, climbing into a small hole that Mother had. It was just big enough for the two of them as they curled up and slept, but now it was big enough for Nightmare to stretch out in... He didn't wanna stretch out.
...
Ohhh he was such an awful brother. Dream hated him, he had too! The villagers were right about everything. How could they not have been? They were older, wiser, and there were so many of them ( there were so many of them- )! Of course they would be right!
Nightmare digs his phalanges into his skull, crying softly in the too-big too-empty space where his brother should be. But, instead, his brother was with the villagers. Probably telling them all about what he did. He deserved it. They were probably going to beat him tomorrow. He deserved it. He wouldn’t even run this time! Or hide!
Bad people need punishment; how else will they get better? It’s something that was needed!
He only sobbed harder.
“Aw, dear child, what happened this time?” A voice called out.
Nightmare attempted to breathe in, but his breath got stuck, and he only sobbed harder.
“Shshhshh,” the voice whispered, echoing across the space, ringing in Nightmare’s skull, “it's alright, young one, let it out, let it out.”
“My brother- I- I- hurt-” the sobbing intensified as he curled tighter into himself, “I- I- hu-urt him!” he finally got out, unable to properly breath as his body shook with feelings he didn’t know what to do with.
“Oh my,” the voice slithered onto his clavicle, attempting to console him, “that’s quite serious. What happened?”
“He- he was just say-sayinghghggg- saying h-h-hiii,” Nightmare started, his words choking on his tears, “and- and I just- I- I threw my- I threw my book at him! And he- and I- and he-” his words dissolved back into weeping, and he pushed his face into his knees. Sobs racked through his body as the voice gently spoke to him, meaningless words that slipped through Nightmare’s mind as soon as they arrived, yet comforted his aching spirit.
Time passed and soon his body was too tired to keep crying, worn out from running and hiding, and healing. He leaned against the rough bark and curled into his side, gently reaching for the small creature he knew sat on his shoulder.
“Thank you mister,” Nightmare whispered to the small, black slug that had begun following him around but a few weeks before.
It nuzzled into his hand, leaving a small trail of black slime. It was cold on his bones, “Why of course, sweet child, you dearly needed it.”
“Mh,” Nightmare hummed, looking past the bug and at the other side of the nook, “... will Dream come back?”
“Of course he will return. It was just one fight,” the voice states, kindness in his monotone words, “and besides, he still has stuff here. He would need to grab it at some point.”
“I guess…”
The creature gazed up at him, “Now listen child, fights happen with siblings all the time, it is nothing new.”
“But I hurt him! I really really hurt him! I’m turning into the monster the villagers all know I am!” He shouts, tears welling back up into his eyes, “I already am a monster! Who could hurt Dream?”
“Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear, you are no monster. You are but a child. A child making mistakes. This just happened to be one of them.” It comforted, rubbing its upper tentacles against his skull in an attempt to soothe.
Nightmare blinked, relaxing under the kindness of the thing. He uncurled from his ball and reached up to gently pet the creature, a small phalange running softly against its keel, “Thank-” he sniffled, “thank you…”
“Not a problem at all, dear. You go and get some sleep, alright? I will keep watch for you.”
Nightmare mumbles, “I-I will. Thanks… again,” he pauses, playing with the joints on his fingers as he drifts off, “ ‘n… good night mister…”
“Goodnight, child,” it whispered back, disappearing back into the shadows, “and have sweet yous.”