Chapter Text
The sky was blue.
A brilliant, beautiful blue. A color so deep you could fall into it. Dotted with white fluffy clouds softer than cotton candy.
Blue.
Blue
BLUE
He screamed.
Go back, go back! He needed to go back! To where the sky is pink like love, where at night two moons watch over his dreams at night.
He scrambled away from the light like it burned him. He didn't take two steps before he ran in into a curtain divider, ripping it of its hinges.
He couldn't see anything. He's drowning like a fish out of water.
Vaguely, he heard distant voices, but it was muted by the ringing in his ears. Someone was trying to hold him down, so he struggled like a wild beast.
"--sama! Iruma-sama, please!" A familiar voice finally cut through the noise.
Without thinking, Sullivan Iruma latched onto the owner of the voice, holding him like a lifeline in a shipwreck.
"Boss-chi?" another familiar voice called.
'Alice is here, Clara's here. Everything will be fine,' he told himself.
Gently, the curtain was lifted like a veil.
It wasn't Alice.
He looked like Alice, felt like him, smelt like him, sounded like him.
It's not.
Alice didn't have a burn scar that covered half his face.
This must be a nightmare.
When Iruma Babyls woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling, he assumed he'd been kidnapped. It wouldn't be the first time.
Considering he was a magnet for trouble, it's not surprising that he'd been stolen under Opera's watch once or twice. Never for long, though. The longest he had remained in captivity had been close to half an hour.
Surprisingly, he's not bound to the strangely soft bed. So soft he could mistake it for his own back in the mansion.
There's two other people in the room, he could tell by their breathing. They're... sleeping? A bit sloppy, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Quietly, he got up and--
It's Alice. Head hanging low and arms crossed. Draped over his legs is Clara, also sleeping in a pose that looked like it would give her joints morning pains
He relaxed. Maybe this is a new safe house. He looked out the window to gauge where he was in the city, but all he could see under the pale light of twin moons where cliffs and gigantic spikes jutting of the ground.
That's... not right…
He must be dreaming, after all.
Looking back at his two sleeping friends, he had a no good, very bad idea. He silently crossed the room like a cat.
There's only a bit of light coming through the window, but he could tell a few things. Clara had her hair down, and she was wearing a school uniform. It suited her, it looked cute on her.
Alice was also dressed in an outfit he'd never seen before, but it looked good on him, and...
Oh, it's definitely a dream.
His scar's gone.
Iruma couldn't help reaching out and softly touching Alice's unmarred skin, slowly dragging his thumb against his soft cheek. Regretfully, the contact was enough to rouse his made man. Alice's eyes filled with devotion.
"Iruma-sama, er'uoy ekawa!"
What?
Clara startled awake. "Iruma-chi, doog gninrom!" she jumped down from Alice's lap and hugged him.
Was he being pranked right now? No, well, sometimes dreams sounded like gibberish.
"Clara! Pots gnirehtob mih, eh tsuj ekow pu!"
"Azz Azz, er'uoy tsuj a tew kcos! Emoc ereh dna evig su a guh!"
He knew them enough to know they were bickering again, even in his dreams.
The bad idea resurfaced. He'll regret it later, but it's a dream, so why shouldn't he indulge himself?
He extended a hand towards Alice, who took it without a second thought, and dragged both of them towards the bed.
"Ho, revopeels emit!" Clara giggled, claiming the spot at his right like she's used to do it, while Alice settled at his left without much fuzz. It's silly how giddy he felt, but this isn't something he's allowed to do in reality. Even if they're friends, he's their boss. No, just being friends is already more than--
He's thinking too much. He should be enjoying himself now, that's what dreams are for.
This is a good dream.
When he woke up again, he was still in that unfamiliar room, held tightly by his two closest friends.
A cold ball of lead settled in his stomach.
He's not dreaming.