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Dream stared at the empty chair at the other end of the table, missing his mask.
He didn’t know where they’d put it, only that he felt exposed without it. His eyes wandered aimlessly, and his expression was blank, aside from twitches of emotions he was unable to hide. It felt wrong. It didn’t feel like him, and he was feeling more himself than he had for a long time now.
Another thing to go on the list of demands for the Angel. That was who Dream was waiting for, and he’d decided the emperor’s tardiness was a sign of weakness, not superiority. The Angel knew he wanted to talk. He couldn’t just ignore him. Dream wasn’t that irrelevant. Surely not.
Dream traced the blunted blade of his dagger yet again, the one that he’d carried around for the last few days after Fundy nearly stole it. He didn’t let much out of his reach anymore. Not when it felt like something was coming, building in the tension between silences. It was nice to have, anyway. Wilbur wouldn’t let him have any real weapons. He’d tried.
Dream refixed his eyes on the head of the Angel’s ornate chair, mentally scolding himself for getting distracted again. He was frowning now, he could feel it, frustration building at the late avian and himself, for looking this stupid. It didn’t matter. When Angel finally turned up, he’d look prepared.
There was a clock on the wall. Dream wasn’t letting himself look at the clock on the wall. He was just looking at that chair, utterly focused on it, agenda looping in the back of his mind.
He wanted negotiations over his and Techno’s return to Esempi. He wanted a status befitting a prisoner of war, worse conditions be damned, he wasn’t standing for being treated like part of the royal family. He wanted autonomy, he wanted his mask back, he wanted a guard, and he wanted permission to make Wilbur go away.
That last one had to be phrased right, because he didn’t want the Antarctic prince to leave. He just wanted control over when Wilbur decided to bother him. Dream had been very bothered about control recently.
He was also still waiting. Did the Angel make a habit of being late to important meetings? Or was it just a sign of disrespect? Or maybe this was another of his things, treating Dream like a friend, being so unnervingly casual around him.
Dream was scowling by the time he heard the door open. The Angel walked across the room casually, nodding at him as he dismissed the guards to stand by the doors.
“Hey, mate. What’s this about?”
His thumb ran up and down the length of the blade, reciting his list. Dream took his time, knowing he’d hate himself even more if he messed up than if he was slow.
“I need to talk. Regarding mine and my general’s current situation.”
The Angel’s smile hardened a little, and Dream saw his eyes narrow.
“Oh, is that right? Well, talk away, mate. Always happy to listen.”
Philza settled in his own chair, resting his chin on steepled fingers as he examined every part of Dream with affectionate curiosity.
“I-“ Stupid, stupid, he couldn’t hesitate now. “We aren’t being treated as befits prisoners of war. I would like to request to be moved away from your personal family, and given communication with my people. From there, we can discuss beginning negotiations for our return.”
By the time Dream finished, Philza wasn’t smiling at all. Just sitting very still, silent as he listened patiently.
“Well. Interesting requests, certainly. Have you spoken to Techno about this?”
Dream paused. Then plowed on, because he was still entirely within his bounds with this.
“No. He’s my general, not my advisor.”
“I was rather under the impression he was both.”
There was a false politeness in the Angel’s voice, a cool composure with a bite at the end that displayed his displeasure. Dream smoothed over his own expression, and took a deep breath to explain.
“Again, no. I allow him to advise due to his experience, but I rank higher. I would also request, while we’re both here, that all of our personal belongings are returned to us unless they pose a threat, and we are allowed to take visitors as we please.”
“Doesn’t sound much like prisoners to me, mate.” Philza’s tone had changed again, almost jovial as he shrugged. “Sounds like you’re just making demands. What stuff haven’t you got, anyway?”
“My mask.”
He’d gotten the knife back from Wilbur, after a bit of whiny begging he wasn’t overly proud of himself for. He wasn’t doing the same thing for his mask.
“Ah. Yeah, you’re not getting that back. My orders.”
“Can I ask why not? It isn’t designed to harm.”
“Can’t see your face with it.” Philza shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. “Wilbur agrees.”
Dream could feel his own ire building, but forced himself to restrain it, emotion only showing in the slight hiss in his voice.
“I would also request, Angel, that I be allowed to not interact with your sons unless both parties agree to it.”
“They’re good kids really-“
“I do not care who they are.” Dream snapped, then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in to calm himself. “I merely want them to not be in my presence.”
“Ok, relax, mate.” Philza chuckled, holding up his hands as he leaned back. “I’ll talk to them, ok? Tell Wil to lay off a bit. To be honest, I didn’t realise he was still bothering you.”
Dream gritted his teeth, because Philza wasn’t getting it, and the avian was only doing it to wind him up. Like father like fucking son, he supposed.
“That is… acceptable. What about new accommodations?”
“Oh, sorry, mate, but I don’t think we have any other free rooms.”
Philza’s tone was so mocking that Dream looked up, to see the avian grinning like an asshole.
“…right. Of course you don’t.” Dream grudgingly accepted that point as perhaps lost, but promised himself he’d find a compromise. Maybe a lock, on the inside. “Negotiations?”
“Now that is actually a good call, and one I’d rather forgotten. I’ll tell you when I get round to it, how’s that?”
Dream was really starting to understand why Wilbur was like that, if he had this as a father, adopted or not.
Still, he forced himself to retain his composure, breathing heavily with his eyes firmly shut.
“I… would like to be included in the arrangements. If that’s allowed.”
“Depends. How’d you feel about having dinner with us?”
Dream opened one eye, glaring at Philza with nothing short of hatred. Those weren’t exactly normal bargaining chips. But nothing here was normal, and it wasn’t so high a price to pay.
“Fine. I want to send letters.”
“Always could, mate. You just had to ask.”
“Whatever. Sure. Personal possessions?”
“Already told you. Not a chance.”
He had already said. Dream cursed himself silently for forgetting, because that was exactly the sort of unprofessional slip that would give the Angel the upper hand. He decided to style it out, and start on a few compromises.
“Why not?” Dream stared dead at Philza, utterly confident and not a little arrogant. “You have no right to-“
“Ah, mate, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re in another nation. No rules you know, you know?” Philza smiled, and gestured for him to continue. “But yes, continue to reason with me why my judgement call is forbidden.”
Dream hissed under his breath, then shook it off, trying again. Not too much though. He couldn’t let Philza know he actually wanted something.
“It’s my property, and part of my personal style.”
“Look, take it up with Wil if you really are so bothered.” Shrugging, Philza started examining his nails, like he was losing interest in the whole subject. “I’m just agreeing with him. It’s good for you to not be able to hide.”
And that- really pissed him off, for some reason. How dare they try to control him like that? The nerve was astonishing, and the presumptions maddening.
Dream had to bite back the urge to storm out of the room, because that wouldn’t be powerful here, wouldn’t play into his reputation, it would just look like a child throwing a tantrum. Which was how Philza seemed to be treating him anyway, and Dream wasn’t inclined to give him any more ammunition.
“I’m not hiding.”
Dream heard himself snap, regretting it instantly, because so did Philza, looking up with the barest hint of raised eyebrows and a smile.
“Oh? What are you doing then?”
And Dream realised very suddenly what exactly was so unsettling about this castle, and everyone in it. They were smart. Deadly, manipulative, playing it so well he didn’t notice everything around him was a trap until too late. It was like they were all working together.
Or maybe he was paranoid. Maybe this was what a real royal family looked like, intelligent, organised and trusting of each other and their staff. Not a pair of teenagers ruling a nation in their parents’ stead.
Either way, Dream became aware a solid minute later that he’d stopped speaking, very abruptly. Then he noticed a warmth in his hand, and refocused his eyes, where he’d been staring at an empty point between him and Philza.
“Dream? You alright there?”
Mutely, Dream shook his head, trying to think of a single person he trusted like Wilbur trusted Niki.
It was stupid, how distracted he’d suddenly gotten, but something in him had been fraying for a while, and it had suddenly snapped, maybe his mind with it.
Dream felt the warmth grow, just a little bit, and felt something… inside his hand. It made a noise. Quite an unpleasant one. Philza sucked in a sharp breath, then there was the scraping of a chair, and hurried footsteps coming around the table.
“Oh- mate, how did you- shit, ok, we’re done here.”
The Angel’s talons curled around his wrist, and Dream could hear himself making some animalistic, keening noise between a shriek and a snarl. He resisted as much as he was able, but that was nothing at all, because Philza was using his other hand to smooth his hair back, murmuring soothingly.
“Shh, stay calm, mate. You’ve just- I don’t even know how you’ve done that- god, that’s got to hurt, how…”
Dream looked down, chest rising and falling as he gasped, then gasped harder, tears streaming down his cheeks, because he’d managed to bury the dagger pretty deep in his palm, for all he’d thought it was blunt, and the warmth was his blood, oozing out around the blade. How wasn’t that hurting? How had he even done that?
Then he regretted even thinking that, because it was hurting now, and it was all he could do to throw his head back against the chair, panting and shaking and crying violently as Philza eased the dagger out of his palm.
He wasn’t even talking any more, just struggling to breathe, all dignity forgotten in favour of clinging to Philza’s sleeve with the hand that didn’t have a dagger halfway through it. He was crying, heaving sobs making him blink too fast and chest ache, because it wasn’t just his hand that hurt, it was everything that they had here and he didn’t, and it was everything they’d taken from him.
Then he was talking, and Dream felt his stomach flip, because he heard himself apologising, for some stupid reason the thing he was begging the Angel for was forgiveness, and he sounded like a fucking child and he couldn’t make himself stop.
Not when, as Philza finally worked the knife free from his flesh, the avian just pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Dream and pushing his head into his shoulder, just near the crook of the base of his wings.
“It’s ok, mate. I won’t tell Wilbur. You’re gonna be ok.”
So that was what he was saying. Dream could feel a burning heat in his cheeks, all over really, because that was just typical. He was apologising to the Angel and begging him not to tell his son he’d disobeyed the prince’s stupid rules.
Phil carried on just holding him, even as Dream’s heaving gasps finally slowed to soft sobbing, to nothing at all aside shallow breaths, and regret and terror creeping in as he realised he was in the Angel’s arms, getting blood all over his wings and cloak, and neither of them were objecting much.
For a brief, shameful moment, Dream wondered if this could last forever. Who he had been might well be dead by now, his sanity gone the same way. He wondered if he could stay with Philza forever, maybe learn to understand all the parts of Wilbur that made him want to scream, stay in this castle, broken but safe. Somewhere they would keep him, with no strings, no expectations. Just to see how other people lived.
Then it passed, and there was nothing but the last curling tendrils of resentment, and an exhaustion that had been building for a long time now.
“…I think I’m going to take you to Ponk now, mate.”
Philza spoke softly, a gentle trill at the end that made Dream’s throat twist as he nodded, silently.
Slowly, Philza pulled away, and Dream couldn’t help but mourn the loss of contact with the avian, as his talons shifted to his shoulders, examining him with nothing short of pity. Dream sniffed, staring at the floor, trying not to let his shaking hands show. One of them was still bleeding. Still hurting, too.
“Dream? Can you look at me?”
Yes. No. He couldn’t really do anything, but he would anyway, lifting his gaze meekly to meet Philza’s gentle eyes.
“There we go. It’s ok. I just want to go through this, so you know what’s happening. Is that ok?”
Dream nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes. His cheeks were burning, and his eyes were probably red too, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“I’ll open negotiations. You can be there, but only when I allow it.” Philza squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, even as Dream’s eyes widened in a helpless horror. That wasn’t what he’d wanted. “We’ll discuss your and Techno’s return. But you two aren’t going anywhere while you’re here.”
Dream felt like crying again, a pressure in his throat that was pure desperation, because he couldn’t even fight it. There was nothing to fight, when Philza was speaking so calmly, so certainly. And still talking, even as tears slipped down Dream’s cheeks.
“You’re staying where I’ve put you, mate, in your rooms, and you’re going to carry on living in our wing. I will talk to Wilbur about boundaries. And I will consider getting you your mask back. How does that sound?”
That sounded terrible. It sounded like he was getting nothing at all, aside from empty promises and gentle humiliation. Dream found it in himself to suck in enough air to ask a question, just one.
“Can- can I write letters?”
Philza smiled, and nodded, patting his arm.
“Of course. Just call Eret, or Ranboo, and they’ll get it delivered.”
So that was what it sounded like to live in a castle where you trusted everyone. Dream just swallowed, and nodded, numbly. Philza nodded back, smile slipping a little, eyes sad.
“Let’s get your hand fixed up, alright?”
Another nod. He didn’t really care. He felt like he might collapse on the spot, so tired it was itching at his eyes, curdling in his stomach into a sort of despair.
Philza took his hand, guiding him gently out of the room, and down the hallway. Dream spared a look back, wondering if he could have done better. Held it together. Clung on to who he knew he was, instead of crumbling like they wanted him to.
Maybe, maybe not. It didn’t really matter. Philza’s word was law, as he’d said, and Dream didn’t have any power here. That was the last piece, clicking into place like the twisting of a key in a lock. He was helpless, surrounded by people so assured of their own safety and ability it seemed insurmountable.
He walked down the hallway in silence, holding on to Philza’s hand like a lamb, then clinging to his arm, because he was so tired and no one had ever let him walk like this before, leaning on someone who could protect him. He could feel Philza looking at him, but for the first time, it didn’t feel intrusive, or judging. It felt like affection, and protection, and something else Dream didn’t want or know how to name.
Too soon, they were at some sort of clinic, and Philza was guiding him through, and Dream was looking with wide eyes at the same bandana-clad doctor he’d seen before, months ago now.
“Oh- hello, your majesty.”
Ponk dropped into a low bow, which Philza gestured up with a smile, nudging Dream to sit on a bench.
“Could you just take care of his hand? He got a bit scared.”
Philza held out something Dream recognised as a dagger, his dagger, but he didn’t have the energy to even reach for it, just sort of whimpered and shivered slightly on the bench.
Ponk took it, then looked at him critically.
“Anything else?”
“Panic attack, I think.” Philza made a sympathetic expression, shrugging. “I’ll take care of that later.”
“Sounds good.”
Dream clung to the edge of the plank, feet just about resting on the ground as he stared at the stone floor. Ponk crouched in front of him, gloved hands reaching for his wrist.
And that was about where Dream stopped paying attention entirely. It passed him in a blur, the bandages wrapping around his palm, the gentle wiping at his own self-inflicted wound. Ponk worked efficiently, and silently, eyes entirely focused on the work at hand.
It was over in just a few minutes, or maybe less, because the next thing Dream really felt was Philza helping him back to his unsteady feet, nodding to Ponk, who’d gone back to the rack of potions and brewing stands on the other side of the room.
“Thanks, mate. Lifesaver.”
“No problem.”
It was as simple as that. Dream smiled helplessly, tears falling onto the floor. Everyone just did their own job, and trusted those around them to do theirs. What a strange idea.
Philza was leading him somewhere else now, and Dream wondered why had hadn’t just called Ponk to where they were, and if maybe the avian just liked walking.
Hey, he recognised their corridor. Dream’s vice grip on Philza’s hand loosened a bit, his head still a fog of exhaustion and a kind of dull aching.
Philza glanced at him, smiling as he knocked on Wilbur’s door. Dream wasn’t smiling. Dream was feeling something close to dread creeping up, because he wasn’t sure he could handle Wilbur right now.
“Boys?”
A moment of silence. Then the door was pulled open, and Dream was staring at Techno, and suddenly very aware of their three inch height difference.
“Oh. Hi, Dream.”
Philza’s wing brushed his back as he stepped away, and Dream was horribly aware of just how fast he was blinking, how the agony in his chest was only getting worse, how Techno always used to know what he wanted to say whenever he couldn’t speak.
“I- I’m sorry.”
Techno stared at him. Dream stared back, his own voice echoing in his head, distorting until it didn’t sound like anything. Techno looked behind him, presumably at Phil, then back at Dream.
“…yeah, ok.” Techno rolled his eyes, reaching out to adjust Dream’s collar. “You’re forgiven.”
And somehow that didn’t make sense, because thing like this weren’t meant to be easy, but Dream didn’t say anything to ruin it for himself as Techno beckoned him in, giving a professional nod to Phil as he closed the door behind them.
Dream just sort of stood there for a minute, staring at the floor in numb disbelief. Techno was probably going to kill him.
“It’s ok, Dre.” Techno tilted his unprotesting chin up, smiling more than Dream ever really seen him smile before. “I get it. I heard you were negotiating?”
“It- didn’t go well.”
“Hm, well, you seem a lot better. What did you ask for?”
Dream shook his head, hating himself for his own selfishness, letting his gaze drop back to the floor.
“…negotiating our return. And my mask.”
Techno was quiet for a moment. Then shrugged, and patted Dream’s shoulder in a way he’d never done before, eerily similar to how Philza had.
“Well, we’ll see how it goes. Want Wil to deal you in?”
Dream looked up suddenly, remembering whose room they were in. He locked eyes with Wilbur, sitting on the bed, wide eyes locked on him in a kind of fascination, cards spread on the duvet next to him.
Then Wilbur blinked, and grinned, standing up like he’d just been given permission to join their conversation.
“Heya, Dreamie. How’s it going?”
“Not- great.” Dream tried a smile, clinging on to his composure hard enough to hold himself together. “I’ll play. What- are you two doing?”
“Oh- nothing too important.” There was something Wilbur’s eyes, as he looked from his bed, to Techno, back to Dream. Almost desperation, hidden behind false cheer and bright smiles. “We can do something different, if you don’t want to?”
Judging by Techno’s slightly confused glance, Dream was fairly sure it wasn’t just him. Wilbur was being weird.
“You alright, Wil?”
“Yep! Why wouldn’t I be?” There was a definite strain to Wilbur’s voice now, as he skipped back over to his bed, gathering the cards into a pile with trembling hands. “All good!”
Techno and Dream shared a look. Techno was frowning, baffled as he glanced surreptitiously at Wilbur, then back. Dream’s eyes were slightly too wide, uncertain too, but with a kind of understanding dawning on him. Maybe if he just had a nap, it would make more sense. But something was definitely up with Wilbur, and there was an itch in the back of his mind that demanded he figure out what.
“Pri- Prince Wilbur.” Dream started slowly, trying to drag his exhausted mind around to real conversation again. Wilbur looked up instantly, stiffening slightly. “Is… something wrong?”
Dream was still looking at Techno, but could see Wilbur in the corner of his eye, absolutely frozen.
They were all silent for a solid minute, then Wilbur spoke, in a small, strangled voice.
“No… I- I’m fine. Really! I’m fine.”
“You weren’t like this a minute ago, Wil.” Techno wasn’t looking at him either, just sharing perplexed looks with Dream as he tilted his head. “What’s wrong with Dream?”
“Nothing!”
Wilbur sounded high-pitched to the point of becoming singsong, and Dream was frowning now too. He was so, so tired, but he couldn’t resist a puzzle, one that felt so solvable, if he just concentrated.
“Wilbur…” His voice was still a little hoarse, but far more professional than whatever was going on with Wilbur. “Have you ever seen me and Techno in the same room?”
“Yes, of- of course I have, Dreamie, I- I was there when you-“
“That’s- not what I’m asking.” Dream could hear the hesitancy in his own voice, but he was growing in confidence now. “I- I’m asking if you’ve seen us together, not talking to or about you.”
It came out a little aggressive, but Dream knew Wilbur understood. He knew, because the brunette made a whimpery sort of noise, knuckles turning white around the deck of cards he was still clutching.
“…no.”
“Are you jealous?”
And this, this was a truly novel experience, and one Dream couldn’t help but relish. Being fully confident, if exhausted, and hearing Wilbur utterly fail to retort or argue his own case, no trace of his upper hand.
“…yes.” Wilbur sounded on the verge of tears, setting the deck down on his bed, and starting to pick at his sleeves. “Sorry. I- I just- I’ll go. You two can…”
“Hey, no. Wil, you- you can stay.”
Techno hadn’t quite caught up to where Dream was, but still sounded worried, looking at Wilbur fully. Dream could see in the corner of his eye, the prince freezing like a deer in headlights, hands shaking.
“No, no, I- you’re-“
All he needed was a way to speak. Talk to Wilbur, really, properly, tell him he understood. Dream just couldn’t quite find the words.
“We’re fine, Wil. We ain’t asking you to leave.”
Techno was disconcerted by Wilbur’s vulnerability too, Dream could hear it, mind still whirring.
“Oh…” It clicked. Dream smiled, looking up, meeting Wilbur’s terrified eyes. “Oh, Wilbur.”
That made Wilbur blush horribly, it turned out, squeaking some indeterminable phrase as his hand fumbled for his bedpost, leaning heavily on it. But Dream was onto something now, and his fatigue was forgotten as he grinned, eyes flicking across the Antarctic prince.
“I really thought you had it together. But no, you’re scared, aren’t you?” Dream knew he was being mean, knew he was driving Wilbur further into a corner he was already backed into, but it felt so good to get one over on him, just this once, and his self control had abandoned him right alongside his sanity. “You’re lonely too, and you’re scared we don’t need you. Correct?”
Wilbur was an actually impressive shade of red, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to steady his breathing. He nodded, shakily, still clutching his bedpost.
Dream glanced at Techno, flashing him a softer, reassuring smile as he stepped towards the brunette. Techno gave him a worried look, but stepped back slightly. His way of saying he trusted Dream. Trust. Dream just needed to trust that he knew what he was doing, and that he really did understand Wilbur as well as he thought he did.
Wilbur sucked in a hitching gasp as Dream touched him, gently guiding him to sit down, ignoring the thrumming sense of victory in his chest. Not everything was about winning. This was about Wilbur, and maybe some genuine comfort.
“Th- this isn’t very- powerful of me, is it?”
Wilbur laughed, breathless, and Dream scoffed too, just quietly enough to keep this between them.
“Not even slightly. Now you know how I feel.”
“Shit.”
Dream smiled to himself, then carried on, just the right note of arrogance to not attack Wilbur’s pride too much.
“Well, I’m disappointed to say I appear to be stuck with you. For a while, by the sounds of it from your father.”
Wilbur’s breathing calmed a little, still looking straight down, still picking at his cuff like there was no tomorrow. Dream carried on, inwardly rolling his eyes at how little it really took for him to pivot his full attention into making a smug idiot feel better about himself.
“So I’m not going anywhere, despite my best efforts. Nor’s Techno, but he happens to actually like you.”
Which, well, he was fine with. Funny how that had happened. Dream’s own jealousy had turned to acceptance, particularly with how happy Techno seemed around the princes.
He still needed something more. Fairly belittling reassurance might be helpful, but Dream couldn’t shake the feeling that he could do more.
“I- I stabbed myself earlier.” Dream sighed, already bracing himself for Wilbur’s disapproval. But he needed this, and Dream knew Wilbur always seemed to get a kick out of taking care of him in the most aggressive way imaginable. “Ponk bandaged my hand, if you want to look.”
Wilbur sniffed, and for a painful moment, Dream was worried he wouldn’t care. That he’d misunderstood, and the Antarctic prince didn’t really care about him after all.
Then Wilbur held out his hand, still trembling, and Dream grinned in pride and relief, handing over his own bandaged palm.
Wilbur took his hand, fingers curling around it tight enough to hurt, just a little. But Dream didn’t say anything, just let the brunette examine the bandages in sniffling silence, shoulders shaking only slightly.
Eventually, Wilbur sniffed again, and it was almost as haughty as he normally was.
“And- why did you- you hurt yourself, darling?”
It was honestly sort of pathetic, hearing Wilbur try so hard to keep control when his voice was still raw from crying. Techno’s snort matched Dream’s internal chuckling, but he played along, not embarrassing Wilbur any more than he had on his own.
“Not sure. It was an accident, if that helps.”
“Hm.” Wilbur sniffed, sitting up a little, flashing him a slightly watery smile that dissolved into misery. “Acceptable, I- I suppose.”
“Wow.” Techno grunted, sounding genuinely shocked, as much as he ever did. “Nice work, Dre.”
Dream smiled tightly to himself, even if he was glowing on the inside. It felt good, being able to help someone, especially when it was Wilbur.
They were all quiet for a few minutes, giving Wilbur time to fully pull himself together, leaning pretty hard on Dream’s shoulders as he straightened.
“O- ok.” Wilbur smiled, with only a hint of a tremble. “I’m alright. Thanks. You’re- pretty good at that, Dreamie.”
“He’s not normally.” Techno scoffed, coming to sit next to Dream, eyes fixed on Wilbur. “That was… new.”
“Yes, well, I think we’ve all changed recently.” Dream’s voice was clipped, his tone sharp, even as he smiled. “Wilbur?”
“Mhm?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“…yeah. Toms has told me that. And- and Dad. And- yeah. I know.”
“What was that, though?” Techno let his own voice falter, letting in a hint of his own worry. “Wil- are you ok?”
Wilbur sniffed, hard, taking a moment to calm himself before replying. He nodded in the meantime, hand still wrapped around Dream’s.
“All- all good. I just- I get scared. Of- well, as Dreamie said. Of being alone. Or- or people not… needing me…”
Wilbur trailed off into embarrassment, squirming slightly. Dream glanced at Techno, examining his brother’s discomfort and confusion.
“I get it.” Dream squeezed Wilbur’s hand in return, but made no other move towards him. Not that he seemed to need to, when Wilbur still blushed scarlet. “Trust me. I have had- a hell of a day.”
“Yeah, and I’m about to have a hell of a time makin’ you two explain to me what the hell is going on.”
Raising his eyebrows, Dream looked at Wilbur, who smiled back, taking another deep breath, and relaxing a little.
“Well, you see, Tech, that’s a very complicated question.”
“Yep.” Without warning, Wilbur leaned on Dream’s shoulders, just about getting his chin on top of his head to grin over the Esempi Prince at Techno. “You’d only understand if there was something very wrong with you.”
“Then try me, lover boy, or I’ll show you exactly how many things I can make wrong with you.”
Dream laughed, suddenly, ducking his head to cover his mouth, and making Wilbur yelp as his headrest suddenly disappeared.
He’d missed this. Or- this wasn’t something he could miss. It was something new. And nice.
Something he could trust, maybe.