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Fit is not one to talk about his nightmares, ever. At most, he would talk about his dreams– of which are very rare. Or, they were rare, but that was before he met Ramón. Before he met Pac.
The majority of his dreams have consisted of those two. Most of the time, it's doing mundane tasks like him and Ramón exploring, or him and Pac on a Rebellion mission.
Fit can't count the number of good dreams he's had about his family, even if he counted with his hands and toes. However, he can count the few times he has had nightmares.
The first one was after Ramón had lost his first life. He had laid down, expecting to meet the familiar emptiness of sleep, but instead found himself back on that airship.
Although, unlike what had actually happened, he was in front of Ramón. In front of his boy, who was bleeding out. Whos shell was cracked open, yolk spilling out. Fit couldn't move, his legs were stuck in place no matter how hard he attempted to move, like he was stuck in an invisible prison.
Ramón had cried out to him – dad, the boy had begged, help me – and logically, Fit would've recognized the fact his boy doesn't have a mouth, or even speak.
Fit didn't have another nightmare for awhile after that. The next one had been months later, in Purgatory.
It was right after Bad, Tubbo, and Pac had murdered him. (In his mind, he crosses out the Pac part. That man had no reason to be in that list when he didn't touch anything on Fit.)
It had been exactly like the actual scene, but Pac was looking down at him and grinning. Fit woke up feeling disgusted, having to wash his mouth out a few times to get the taste of bile rising out.
The last, and most recent time, Fit has a nightmare, is a few days before March First.
Truly, he wakes up in a panic. He can't process what day it is, nonetheless the time. Although, it must be around midnight, going off how dark the sky is, and how barely anyone is on.
He doesn't want to think about the nightmare.
He doesn't want to think about how Pac had been bleeding out, yelling Fits name, begging for Fitchi, save me, please, before Fits vision got blurry and he woke up. The man had looked terrible - not fully a lie, but Pac is never terrible looking - and a wreck, and Fit couldn't move. He attempted to move his sword, to protect Pac with his own life from this invisible force.
Nothing worked.
Fit chokes on his breath, trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake Ramón. He checks his communicator, desperate - please, Pac - but sees no sign of the man he wishes he could see. Save.
Deep down, he knows it was a dream. Pac had no business on 2b2t, and Fit would be damned if he let the man go to that wasteland.
The only other person online is Mike. His name is half pink, and seems to be glowing, but Fit brushes it off.
The two's relationship is complicated, truly. Since Mike had been found in that ice chamber months ago, he had been on edge around Fit. Fit knows it wasn't intentional, and he would never blame the man for how he acted. However, he does hate the Federation for making someone he holds dearly to his chest so fucked up.
So fucked up to the point the other doesn't want to be around him.
That's a half-lie. He remembers Mike chatting with him after an eye soldier attack, the man ushering Fit away from Pac so he wouldn't see his outfit.
Fit can think of very few other times recently. He saw Mike briefly at the Carnaval event.. other than that, hardly anything.
Surely Mike wouldn't mind a visit. An unprompted one from a very shaky, half in tears, war veteran.
-
When he warps to Mike's ranch, it feels like hearing all the noises makes everything worse. He can hardly hear it, though, so it's fine.
Mike turns around at the sound of the warp, stopping what he was doing on the crafting bench.
If Fit were more coherent, less sob-y, he would've taken notice of the light pink eye that lights up upon seeing him.
“Fitch?” Mike - no, not Mike. What's the goddess's name? - Mine questions.
“Mike?” Fit whispers, and he wants to hit himself with how pathetic he sounds. His voice breaks, and he probably looks exhausted.
His legs almost give out, but he catches himself on the waystone before he hits the ground. He feels tears ripping at his eyes, desperate to show themselves– but Fit tells himself, you are strong. Don't cry over a stupid nightmare. I thought you were smarter. You're bothering Mike.
“Fit.” Mine says, and she says more but her voice is hardly coherent to Fits ears and he cam see her mouth opening but he can't make anything out and–
Two hands land on his face, gently holding his jaw. He knows those hands, they're Mikes. On very few occasions, he has held Mike's hand, and the touch is imprinted in his mind.
“Fitch.” Mine whispers, and their foreheads are pressed together. Fit feels something wet drip down his face and he feels somehow worse. Mine and Mike should kick him out at this point, maybe he should die because of how pathetic he is. Crying over a nightmare.
Mine gently traces his jaw, one of her hands squeezing Fits. She asks something in Portuguese, but Fit can't make it out. He should know what it is, but he doesn't have his translator and he's mid panic attack.
“Fitch. Oi. O que aconteceu com você, loser?” Mike questions, and Fit knows it's Mike now because the eye isn't glowing pink anymore and the voice is more familiar. (What's happened to you, loser?)
Fit chokes up, mouth opening like he wants to speak but physically can't. His body is restricting his speech and he hates it. He wants to tell Mike how sorry he is, how much he's scared of losing Pac, how he wishes Pac was here, how pathetic he is himself—
Mike mumbles something, and his hands grab Fits shoulders. He snaps his fingers, pressing it to Fits forehead after.
“Focus.” Mike says, “What happened.”
Fit just sobs. He can't say anything, it's impossible to. He feels globs of tears going down his cheeks, pathetic, and he knows he's fucked up. Only Pac and Ramón have seen him cry, and that was just small tears. Other than that one time there was really bad thunder and Fit sobbed.
Mike grumbles, and pulls Fit into a hug. Fit gasps, arms curling around Mike instinctively and pulling him as close as possible.
“Meu cunhado,” Mike muttered, “O Ramón está bem?” (My brother in law, is Ramón okay?)
Fit shakily nods, fingers digging into Mikes shirt. His grip hardly loosens at Mikes hiss of pain, and he manages to sob out a I'm sorry at the action.
He's sorry for hurting Mike. For letting Dream-Pac get hurt. For letting everything happen.
Mike huffs, “Cale a boca, puta.”
The other laughs, it's wet and Fit knows he sounds horrid.
Fit, by some miracle, or by a goddess, probably- manages to calm down. His heart rate slows, no longer feeling like he's hooked up to all his worst fears at once. His grip loosens. He doesn't know how long he stood there, but Mikes legs are shaking, and the sun is coming up.
“I'm sorry,” Fit whispers into Mikes hair.
Mike hisses something about Fit ruining his hair, but just shrugs.
“Você está vivo neste momento?” Mike asks, puking back and looking Fit in the eyes. (Are you alive now?)
Fit nods, wiping his eyes. The Brazilian seems to not believe it, but luckily doesn't press.
“Chá?” (Tea?)
Fit shakes his head, “no, but thank you.”
Mike hums, going to return to his crafting bench but pausing.
“Mine quer que eu te leve para casa.” (Mine wants me to bring you home.)
Fit breathlessly chuckles, “There's no need. Again, I'm sorry for coming here so suddenly. My apologies, friend.”
Mike glares, adjusting his hair as he lays his hand onto the waystone. “casa.”
Fit rolls his eyes when he sees Mike disappear with a puff of purple particles, following him suit.
He teleports to the shitshack, wiping his eyes before seeing Mike hanging halfway out the door. He raises an eyebrow, but enters. Luckily, Ramón did not wake up yet. Good, his baby needs his beauty sleep.
Mike seems to get impatient of the two seconds of Fit staring at Ramón, since he elbows him in the side and glares.
“Okay, okay..” Fit muttered, sitting on his bed. “you can leave now. Thank you. Uh- obrigado. Obrigado, Mike.” (thank you. Thank you, Mike.)
Mike is still for a moment, before his eye glows pink again.
“Dormir!” Mine says softly, smiling when she sees Fit lay down. (Sleep!)
Fit doesn't want to be alone, he realizes. Ramón is right there, though, and he's bothered Mike and Mine enough for a year in a single night.
Mine sits on the end of the bed, Fits mouth opening in protest, but she shakes her head. “Não. Dormir.”
Fit sighs, but nods, burying his head in his pillow.
-
Mine presses a gentle kiss to Fits forehead, a ‘WHY’ coming from Mike, along with a huff of that its Pacs job to do that.
Mine tucks Fit in more, kisses Ramón's forehead, and slowly closes the door.
She hopes two of her boys will have a good night.