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The sky was a swirl of warm, soft hues — oranges, pinks, yellows, purples, and blues. They all spiraled towards the bottom of the horizon, where the sun was slowly settling down for its rest.
The same shades seemed to reflect in Ink's eyelights, ever-changing in shape and color. Yellow and pink were the most prominent. Happiness, is what yellow means. Dream knew that for sure. Pink, well, he had an idea of. Adoration, perhaps? Amazement? Something positive, though, from the look of wonder on Ink's face. That was certain. The shapes in his sockets resembled four-pointed stars — that was Dream's favorite. Among... a couple others.
Ink sighed, settling down, the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his weight. Their head tilted up, a hand outstretched, beckoning Dream to do the same. The taller skeleton took it, settling down with the same crunch.
"This is... beautiful, Ink," Dream starts, voice soft and melodic.
It was, truly; the sunset coated a lovely golden shine to everything surrounding. All different shades of red, yellow, and orange. Birds streaked across the sky, their silhouettes dark against clouds that drifted like fleeting feathers. Surrounding them was boundless nature; a field of barley in front, and a quiet forest curling behind and slightly to their sides. Little buzzing lights lazily hung in the air; concentrated near the forest, and a few over the field.
"But, why did you bring me here?"
Ink lets out a snort at the question. "What, I need a reason to want to spend time with you now, Sunshine?" They bantered, a light jab meeting Dream's side from his elbow. He scoffed, rolling his golden eyelights, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"No... I suppose not." He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, making a ‘tsk’ sound.
Ink's sockets crinkle upwards into a slanted semi-circle, playful, looking up at Dream's. They flickered back to the vast field.
"This AU reminds me of you." Ink answered, in seriousness this time. His eyelights turned to swirls of green and pink. Then, shifted, to purple and a deep blue—Dream wasn't too sure what those colors meant yet. Before he could try and discern his body language, Ink spoke again.
"I've noticed you've been a little... down, since your last encounter with your—um, with Nightmare." He quickly corrected himself before the word 'brother' slipped his mouth. The bottom of Dream's eyelights lifted at the attempt to be — careful? He'd started doing that lately, when he hadn't really cared much before. Strange, but... appreciated.
Nonetheless, the amusement was gone as soon as it had come, and thoughts of Nightmare resurfaced like bubbling acid. He shuddered. His lunch began to slowly claw up his throat.
His gaze shifted to anywhere but Ink. All that was offered was a quiet 'mmh'. To Dream's surprise, a prying question didn't follow suit.
"But..." Ink shuffled closer to Dream. "I stumbled across this place the other day —it's a new one! Not too sure on what the plot is yet, something fantasy, I think? But it does have some interesting looking characters!" He grins, reaching a gloved hand into a pocket of his pants to fish out his sketchbook. Dream blinked — of course, he was used to this, but he couldn't help but let out a giggle, still. His unease subsided. The sight of Ink pulling out things from his pockets that should be much too large to fit in them was quite silly. Useful, in combat, though.
He licked the tip of his index distal, using it to flip through the pages. He kept it sheltered away from Dream's eyes until he reached the right one.
"And, the scenery — well, I just had to stop for a quick sketch!" They smiled, showing the illustration to Dream.
Like always, Ink's work was simply breathtaking. Each pencil stroke, even the quick and hasty ones, managed to show so much life and movement. It was a rare treat when he trusted to show Dream. He was quite... shy, about his art, though he didn't have a lick of an idea as to why.
"Stars! That's — that's gorgeous." Dream exclaimed, leaning closer and craning his neck ever so slightly. Just to catch a glimpse more.
Ink had already pulled it back to his lap, peering between his sketch and up at the field. Then, he shrugged. "It's not really my best," he replied bluntly, "but thanks, Dreamy." He chuckled, eyelights a mixture of cyan and orange. Dream caught a bit of blush that dusted their cheekbones as he glanced away, but it quickly disappeared. Embarrassment, he was guessing.
"Oh, don't be so modest. You're quite the artist." He insisted, sincerity in his voice. His eyelights flickered over his friend's form. It was kind of cute, how hesitant he was, to accept compliments on their art. It was just as equally frustrating, however. Ink stole a quick glimpse up at him, shifting his weight, and clearing his throat.
"Anyway, anyway!" He blurted, changing topic. "It reminded me of you. I thought maybe it'd cheer you up, a little. You get sloppy when you're sad." Ink teased, referring to a fight they had with Nightmare and his little gang a couple days past.
Dream cringed as he thought back to it, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. It was true. His mind had been elsewhere after... a bad encounter between him and his twin. It made it unbearable to face him again. He let out a long sigh. "I know. I…I apologize. I was not... at my best."
Ink hummed nonchalantly, then gave a playful smile. "We still won, thanks to me." He chuckled, leaning against Dream's side. He welcomed the physical touch, despite Ink's jab. He shook his head.
"Right, right... I suppose you did do most of the heavy-lifting." Sarcasm led his tone, but it melted into something genuine. "Thank you, for that. I appreciate it."
Ink gave a simple nod. "You better get back on track, though. I won't pick up your slack forever, you know." He winked. He nestled the side of his skull on Dream's shoulder — he had to fight back the honey-colored blush that threatened to tint his face. He could feel his aura shining, positivity reaching out far into the trees like roots. He lifted a hand to fiddle with the fabric of his pelerine. It made it easy to tuck Nightmare into a far corner in the back of his skull.
"Pft, I will." 'Though, I don't know how true that last part is,' he wanted to add. He held his tongue.
He flinched, remembering Kiwi, his hummingbird. His eyelights darted for her small green-blue form among the leaves and bushes. He let out a short breath of relief to see her nestled in a flower, somehow still scraping by the chills of fall, comfortable and asleep. Good, he thought. He was glad she was enjoying herself as well. He relaxed back into the tree trunk they were leaning against.
When Dream looked back to the other skeleton, he was staring at something scribbled on his scarf, adorned with a few doodles to the side. He raised a curious browbone as Ink suddenly jumped to his feet. Dream briefly missed the shared contact, but quickly straightened up. Ink grabbed a small paintbrush from the upper part of the sash that held his vials.
"Y'know what would make this scene even prettier?" Ink asked, seeing the confusion on Dream's face. He tilted his skull, then leapt a little ways back, summoning his ink. Smooth, thick black liquid, that flew and bent at their will. Dream watched, as the skeleton skillfully swished the paintbrush through it. He gave a small 'hmm?' in reply to his question.
It was like he could see the gears ticking in Ink's skull; he was so detail-oriented, for someone with such a short attention span. Or, well, he supposed his terrible memory better explained that. Shapes of butterflies, turning from black to shimmering gold and green, fluttered from his ink and took flight. A few made their way to Dream, landing on the top of his head. The touch elicited a few giggles. He slowly stood — careful not to scare off the ones already on him — reaching out cupped hands to a few more. They gravitated towards him, all the while Ink stood a foot or two away, watching. Dream didn't notice the stupid grin on Ink's face, or how he inched closer. He was too occupied with the blotchy butterflies tickling his face.
Ink gave the brush a swipe on his pants, leaving a stain of green and yellow. He wiggled it back in place, along with a pencil and an eraser on his satchel. Then a hand dove into his pockets once more. When back out, their hand revealed a long, wooden flute; Dream stepped closer, intrigued. Upon closer look, it seemed to be hand-made, carefully crafted from a fine, dark wood. Cocus, perhaps? Definitely not boxwood — the color was too dark.
"Is… this a flute?" Dream asked, gingerly reaching out gloved fingers to trace along the grain.
Ink nodded. "Yeah! Aster helped me make it, a while back. He's real good at making things by hand." He beamed, a sense of pride exuding from their face as he talked about his father. Dream chuckled, then furrowed a browbone.
"You've never told me you play the flute."
Ink rose a hand to his chin, rubbing it as he thought. "Really? I could've sworn I did... huh!" He tapped his skull. "Oops!"
The taller rolled his eyelights, a small smile on his face. He looked back to Ink expectantly. They took the hint. He raised the instrument to his mouth, placed his fingers in the right spots, then began to play. Dream recognized the tune almost immediately; how could he not? It was one of his favorite songs... Fairy Fountain. He couldn't help but beam a wide smile, his soul swelling in his ribcage, a strange flutter batting at his 'insides'. To be known? To be remembered, by someone whose memory was as good as a goldfish's? That did something to him.
He had to remind himself to take his next breath.
Ink began swaying as he played; a cute, unintentional habit, Dream thought. Compliments sat on the tip of his tongue, but he held them there; he didn't want to interrupt them. Not ever, truly. It didn't matter what song Ink played, he could sit and watch him do this for a while. Forever, even — if only time allowed. But it wouldn't. So, he drank in the moment as much as he could. He allowed his eyelights to fixate on Ink, as much as they wanted, while he was in such an immersed state. Surely they wouldn't take notice.
Ink pulled the flute away once the tune was over — but, then, it continued. The music was lighter, airy, as if the wind had picked it up and stored it in its memory. Dream gasped as he spun around, as if trying to see the tune that wrapped around them.
"Amazing, right?" Ink suddenly piped up, moving closer to Dream, just a few inches apart now. The taller snapped out of the momentary trance, facing back to his friend. He nodded.
"It's simply astonishing," He breathed. "I've never seen — or, well, heard — something like this before."
"I'm pretty sure this AU is real fantasy-heavy. Like, you know," Ink waved a hand for emphasis, "Fairies, elves, things like that. So the rules are a little different here."
"I see." Dream acknowledged. Ink must have forgotten he mentioned the fantasy part already.
His typically playful, cunning smile was something different now. Something softer. Something... warmer. Anticipation sparked up Dream's spine and hung in the air.
Ink cleared his throat, an eyelight cyan, the other a blue-leaning green — almost the same color, but not quite. They offered out a hand. "Wanna dance, Sunshine?"
Dream stifled a laugh, letting his hand rest in Ink's. "Dance? I didn't take you for a dancer. At least, not to music like this." He teased, eliciting a tint to Ink's face that Dream adored. He rolled his mismatched eyelights.
"There's lots of things about me that you don't know."
The way Ink looked up at him, through his sockets, not the direction of his head — his tone of voice with that statement — made Dream utterly lightheaded. He fought back the warmth that so desperately wanted to show on his face, once again. He gave an uneasy smile.
Then, the space between their bodies closed, as Ink pulled him with his other hand to his waist. Dream let out a startled gasp. He had no time to hesitate, decline, or really even react. It was markedly easy to fall into rhythm with one another, though, with Ink taking the lead. Perhaps another untold perk of this AU. Their footsteps led them closer to the barley, whirling up the leaves beneath them as they let the twirl guide them. Dream had never known Ink to be such a sure-footed dancer. There was so much he yearned to discover about them.
His sockets fluttered closed. A breath in; the way Ink's hand wrapped around his waist. A breath out; the way their fingers intertwined with their free hands. A breath in; the euphoria of being. A breath out; the butterflies that spun around with the whistling wind. The sweet smell of autumn leaves and wheat under the setting sun. He opened his sockets to look down at Ink, his own closed, smile wide.
It couldn't be held back any longer. A golden flush furled into his face, sparkling freckles becoming visible — Ink was looking up at him now. One eyelight green, one yellow. Oh stars. Dream's 'stomach' churned in the most delightfully pleasant way.
Oh, stars.
"Um — ah!" Dream yelped.
They were knocked down onto the ground; the taller had tripped over the other's foot when he lost focus. Ink snorted, shaking his head as a string of laughter rattled their ribcage. They fell limbs entangled, Ink lop-sidedly on top of Dream.
"Didn't expect mister elegance and grace to be such a clutz!" Ink teased. Dream huffed, a grin on his face, as he reached to tackle Ink.
"Well, maybe there's a lot to me that you don't know!" Dream snickered as they rolled around in the barley.
Ink's own laugh — his stupid, high-pitched, clicky laugh — stirred Dream's onwards. Dust and pollen bellowed up and into the air as they tussled around, the glowing lights quickly zipping away to avoid being crushed.
Eventually they came to a stop, Dream's arm reaching to wrap around the smaller's back. They ended up in a similar position to where they started. Once their laughter died down, Ink rested his chin atop Dream's chest, gently poking his sternum. Their eyelights met — breathe. He needed to breathe. Breath in; Breath out.
"Happy looks good on you, Dream-boat. Fits you." Ink murmured softly, tilting his head. Stars. Did he realize what he was doing? How they made Dream feel? All the little ways to fly right under his guard? It sure felt like it.
"I, I, um... thank you?" Dream sputtered — he didn't mean for it to come out like a question at the end. It seemed to evoke an amused snort from Ink, though. And, for a split second before he rolled off of him, he could have sworn there was a pink hue to their cheeks.
The wind still carried the tune, but it was slowly getting softer, quieter, to Dream's disappointment. He sat up, watching as Ink rolled around in the dry wheat they had unintentionally flattened earlier. An amused breath aired from his nasal cavity. The smell of it seemed even sweeter, now. He leaned over to lay next to him.
"I think it looks even better on you." He murmured in some dialect of very, very old Spanish. He was far too shy to say something like that in a way Ink would understand.
Ink gave him a confused look, then smirked. "What'd'ya say?"
"Ooh, hmm, nothing." He gave a cheeky riposte. He focused up, towards the darkening sky. Stars were making their way out now, twinkling against the dark blues and purples. He sighed in content. It was rare he got to see things like this. Do things like this. Before he met Ink, anyway.
He shuffled closer to Dream, giving him a poke to the side of his arm. "C'mon, that's no fair! You know I don't speak that." He pouted, batting his eyesockets, giving his best puppy-dog eyes. Dream snorted softly, shaking his head.
"I just said… thank you. For doing this for me. You're a really good friend, I... hope you know."
Ink seemed to tense. He stared at Dream for a few, agonizingly long moments. Then he cracked a chuckle, looking up at the sky.
"You're a real sap, Dreamy." He joked, stretching his arms upwards. They formed a square with his index fingers and thumbs. He tilted his head, closing an eye and sticking the tip of his rainbow tongue out.
"Mmhm," Dream scoffed, seeing through Ink's deflective move. He positioned his arms to cross beneath his skull, resting it on them. "But I mean every word. You are."
Silence hung in the air, growing a little thick. Dream briefly worried if he had said something that upset Ink. He turned to look at him—almost jumping out of his bones to be met back with the other's eyelights. Ink seemed to have a similar reaction, jolting to look back up.
"Um..." Ink squeezed the back of their neck. His ribcage rose, then fell, even though he didn't need to breathe. Dream gave a soft stare. Giving room.
Finally, Ink met his gaze once more. An eyelight pink, in the shape of a swirl. The other green, a simple circle. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a crooked, small grin.
"You're a good friend, too."
Dream hums; light, affectionate. Against his better judgement, he let his mind drift.
Friend.
Was that, truly, all that Ink saw him as?
More importantly… why did a lump form in his throat at that possibility?
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