Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello :DD

I just started writing recently, and I think a book like this would serve as good practice. It's just a place to dump short songfics and small ideas that I don't really want to expand on too much. There also might be just character studies on Dream and Techno particularly, as I tend to do that a lot. I'll be updating this entirely randomly, and the chapter length is most likely going to average 1k-2k words.

The title of every chapter is just going to be the song it's based off, and I'll put a YouTube link to it in the summary of each. I suggest listening to the songs while you read :DD My music taste is extremely random, but just expect a lot of Vocaloid because of its storylines.

I'll be updating the tags as I go, and I'll also put a short description of what goes on in each chapter. I'll also label it as fluff or angst, but there might be some songfics where I won't be able to identify if it's either.

You can comment songs and I might write something on them sooner or later :DD 

I hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading!

Chapter Text

Dream feels like he shouldn’t be here.

The Antarctic Empire is holding a party of sorts, and it’s a large gathering for a celebration of sorts. There are faces both familiar and unseen, and he watches from the bar in the far corner as old friends mingle with new ones. While it is considerably less formal than past ones, he still feels horribly out of place. Even when he’s dressed to the nines, in a dress shirt and slacks with a black vest over his torso along with a deep green tie and suit jacket, he feels as though he just doesn’t fit in this type of setting. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t know a lot of etiquette at all, or the way he sometimes threatens to trip over his feet with the dress shoes he’s not used to wearing, or the way his hands struggle to grip at things properly with the sleek silk white gloves that cover them. This isn’t the place for him, for his place is out there in the woods climbing on trees and jumping over dangerous pits and letting his laughter fade into the wind as he gambles his life before the jaws of life-threatening danger.

This isn’t the place for him, but it’s the place for someone else that he’s here for.

Dream shifts in place involuntarily, a hand coming up to tug at his collar and loosen his tie. His perfume permeates through the heavy atmosphere, cutting through the stench of alcohol in the packed ballroom. His gloved fingers curl around the neck of a half-full wine glass on the countertop in front of him, swirling the deep red liquid ever so slightly before letting it run down his throat. His eyelids flutter close at the distinct bitter burn of the drink, its signature color seeping into his thoughts in the form of familiar crimson eyes from the visage permanently burned into the back of his mind.

Are you free tonight? Called from you, now

I’m clad in my favorite musk and my sweet secrets

He opens his eyes after a minute when his ears pick up on the sound of light commotion, emeralds sweeping over the expanse of the grand room nervously. He doesn’t care too much about anything else in this party anyway, he honestly would’ve left hours ago if not for this moment. He pays little to no mind to his friends, the pairs on the dance floor, or the feast laid out for them to partake in. He instead scans the growing crowd by the main entrance, bated breath counting down the seconds in anticipation. It would be bothersome if he came here all this way for one person only for him not to arrive. He’s growing impatient already, honestly. Eventually, he catches sight of a familiar head of pink hair approaching from the distance.

Dream audibly gulps, because he’s just absolutely breathtaking.

I’ve been waiting… This weekend night

I’ll make this night my own, with everything I have

Techno is dressed in soft blues and bright reds, layers upon layers of fabric building up a warm and regal attire. The regular gold accessories are traded out for those of silver, silver like the snow and ice that make up his empire and silver like the crown that sits on his head that prove him worthy to rule. His hair is tied into a singular braid running down the expanse of his back, over the long vermilion cape draped over his shoulders. He’s dressed very much like a king, and he accordingly acts like so. Unlike Dream, he is at home. This is the place for him, amongst royalty and grandeur and riches galore of the land he rules with an iron fist. His gait is relaxed yet purposeful, and he carries himself with an air of confidence that immediately makes Dream’s own crumble when Techno starts walking directly in his direction.

My libido is overflowing

Ah, how I love that urge

Techno comes to a stop right in front of Dream, and neither of them bother to hide the fact that they’ve been staring at each other and haven’t stopped. Crimson eyes pierce into his own, and they draw him in like so. This is just a common effect Techno has on him, but it seems that no matter how many times he goes through it he never grows more resistant. His emerald eyes greedily drink in the sight in front of him, drink in the blues of liquor and the reds so reminiscent of the wine he drank just a few minutes ago. Like alcohol, Techno is so very intoxicating, and Dream finds that he doesn’t mind getting drunk on him.

Well then, just watch as my last resort becomes the fast track to success

"Ah… I might be a little drunk."

“Fancy seeing you here.” The pinkette breaks the silence first, as nonchalant as ever. He pulls back one of the stools to sit next to him, much closer than necessary. Their arms brush against each other, searing the contact into their skin. Two can play at that game, Dream thinks.

“I could say the same to you, Techno.” He puts a single arm on the countertop and puts his chin in his hand, drawling almost teasingly as he attempts to get a rise out of the apathetic man. This isn’t new to him at all, having had similar exchanges in the past. “I didn’t take you for much of a party person, you know?”

“There are always exceptions to the rule, Dream.” As always, Techno is unfazed and deadpan.

“Do I just so happen to be one of them?” As always, Dream toes the line whenever he flirts.

“Do you want to be?”

I see through it all

Don’t show me some facade of composure

That stuns Dream into silence. He doesn’t exactly know how to respond, with most people normally brushing him off or groaning in exasperation when he says things like that. He never really could take it well when people took his bait and bit back. He could always just answer genuinely, but that feels like a loss to his pride. Blood rushes to his cheeks as he averts his gaze quickly, suddenly finding the multiple bottles of expensive alcohol on shelves very interesting. He blames Techno’s stupid low chuckle and unwavering composure for how easy it is to get him flustered.

He plays with fire so often, but doesn’t know how to deal with it when it burns him back.

“I believe we should dance.” Dream blurts out before he can regret it, standing up from his seat abruptly and making the legs of his chair squeal as it drags on the ground from the force. He offers the other man his hand, still not sparing him a single glance. He can easily tell when Techno raises an eyebrow at him, the infuriating smirk probably still not wiped from his smug face. Eventually, he hears a sigh and feels a hand slip into his.

“If you say so.” Techno gives in which makes him grin, and so they’re swept away to the dance floor.

I see the true nature of it all

Let me do as I please

Techno is an excellent lead, he discovers. One hand seamlessly fits on the curve of his waist, and his other hand is the perfect size for Dream’s own to rest on. They glide across the room in a flurry of twists and turns, and Dream is grateful he’s taken a substantial amount of social dancing prior to this party. He wouldn’t know what to do if he embarrassed himself in such a formal setting, in front of Techno no less. He doesn’t know much out of the signature basic steps and stunts, but they’re more than enough to ensure he doesn’t crush the other’s toes. His grip on the pinkette’s shoulder is firm as he’s swept away into a freeing dance, their heels clicking on the floor rhythmically in tandem to their synced movements.

The world around them melts into nothingness, much like his initial tension. Dream allows himself to relax, like there isn’t a growing crowd that could be their audience. It’s like he isn’t somewhere he isn’t supposed to be, like he isn’t pretending to be someone he’s not, like he isn’t dancing with someone he wouldn’t normally be allowed to touch, like they aren’t from two different worlds. It’s just so easy to find his place in Techno’s arms, to find a piece of his heart in him, to forget who and where they are when they’re alone like this. Techno’s grip on him tightens as he lowers Dream into a dip, dangling him precariously over the tiled ground and oh.

Somehow what knocks the air out of his lungs isn’t the sudden stunt, rather it’s the way their faces are far too close. The proximity is just short of unbearably tempting, noses just an inch apart and hot breath tangible on his lips.

Come on, hurry, take me along

Close enough that our eyelashes could almost touch

“I didn’t expect you to be good at this.” Dream breathes out tentatively. It’s a light whisper only for them to hear, a zephyr of a secret brushing past their reddened ears to be kept to themselves and shown to no one else. Stray strands of pink hair frame Techno’s face beautifully, showing off his wild vermilion eyes as their gaze runs over the expanse of his face. Dream feels awfully exposed, like his emotions are raw and unfiltered to the world.

“Just because you know me as a brute on the battlefield doesn’t mean I’m as uncouth off it.” Techno scoffs after a few seconds, but Dream knows he’s just as affected if his pink cheeks are any indicator. A catlike smile curls his lips upwards as he finally knows what he has to say next. Techno is no less conspicuous than he is, it seems.

“Maybe I’d know you in other ways if you just let me.”

I’ll steal even your thoughts and figure you out

“Such a sharp tongue.” Techno remarks, which only makes Dream lick his own dry lips in response. Neither of them miss the way the pinkette lingers on the action, a breath catching in his throat ever so slightly to make him choke on his next words. “Would you care to use it on me in other ways instead?”

Despite the desperation laced in Techno’s voice and the inherent plea behind his words, he doesn’t fail in making Dream weak in the knees. Even then, he certainly doesn’t falter when he’s handed the perfect opportunity. “I wouldn’t mind, really.”

“Yeah?” There’s a shuddering breath, looking for reassurance. There’s a hand that drops his in favor of trailing down the side of his face, looking for solidarity. There’s a thumb that leaves a streak of lavender on his heated cheek, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah.” Dream has no qualms with giving exactly what they both want. He has no qualms with wrapping his arms around the other’s neck, with pressing their chests flush together as he leans in to bring them even closer than before. He’s still in the dip, Techno’s hold on him is still the only thing preventing him from crashing onto the floor, but he finds that he doesn’t quite mind. The exertion is nothing in the face of how his beating heart does jumps when Techno speaks up once again. There’s a challenging tone to it.

“Then do it.”

It seems like I’ve said more than I needed to

Please shut these sighing lips…

Dream’s fingers run through Techno’s hair as he places a hand on his nape to guide them closer. He feels Techno cup his face and hold onto his waist just a bit tighter, the warmth permeating through the fabric and making him squirm just a little bit. He tilts his head ever so slightly so that their noses don’t bump into each other, and his eyelids flutter shut as he finally closes the distance between them.

With a kiss.

Chapter Text

Dream watches wars from his throne in the heavens, idly playing with stray strands of his golden hair as laments over how the humans shed their blood, sweat and tears over materialism evanescent. They are so foolish, he thinks as they throw their lives away for fleeting things that barely matter after a few generations pass them by. They are so naïve, he thinks as they stain their hands with atrocities that will haunt them until the end of their days for something they will grow to regret eventually. Although, past the crippling disappointment at the inherent flaws of the creatures made in the gods’ likeness, one particular warrior has caught his attention.

It’s a young man, about the same age as the young god’s physical form. He is an enigma, clad in a roughly polished boar skull mask and draped in regal robes fit more for a king than a soldier. He is an enigma, striking down adversaries with the unparalleled elegance of a trained knight and yet snuffing out the flames of enemy lives with the mercilessness of a bloodthirsty brute. He is of flowing pink hair tied into a loose braid dancing with the wind when he descends upon the battlefield, he is of intimidating silence broken only by meaningful words in low tones and wise origins, he is of overarching blades and masterful swordsmanship and a deadly intelligence yet to be unearthed beyond simple battle strategies.

Someday, the light of love that you set aflame in your eyes will transcend time

And surely destroy one dream of this world that hurries to its ruin

Technoblade is his name, the young god learns as he carves it into history with the telltale vermilion lifeblood that marks his path. Technoblade is his name, the young god learns as whispers of his prowess spread like wildfire across the land far and wide. Technoblade is his name, the young god learns as his visage imprints itself into his intrusive thoughts and his soul burns into the empty space in the heart Dream didn’t know he had.

Technoblade is his name, and he is the warrior who has transcended beyond mortal capabilities and whose skills have become on par with the gods. He has earned praise that he very well deserves, has come to know of a passion that would come to define his unwavering persistence at beating all expectations. He hones himself to an almost unbelievable extent, he pushes past doubts and disbeliefs and everything else in his way. He does not falter; with every strike his sword only gets sharper, with every swing his hand only becomes stronger. He has abandoned all perceptions of a realistic goal, and that has allowed him to go far above that.

Now that you’ve drank every ounce of your hesitation, what do you desire?

On the path of yearning as greedy as this, will there be a transient tomorrow?

And yet, as how all is inevitable, the warrior grows weary of being on the top of the world. He’s reached the peak of what is possible for his very human body and soul, and for the first time in his life he puts his weapon down not out of exhaustion but out of boredom. There is nothing left for him anymore in the art of the blade, there is nothing left to pursue once he has reached perfection. He had worked not for glory nor honor nor riches that came with the aptitude, but for the aptitude itself. And now that he has achieved it, he has nothing else to seek. He hates to admit it, but he doesn’t know where else to go.

A wide, almost manic grin makes its way onto Dream’s face as he finally deems him worthy of the ultimate blessing. It’s about time, he thinks as his hands glow with a power that he had been itching to use as soon as his golden eyes had landed on the renowned warrior. He didn’t want to encroach on Techno’s right to live his life; now that he himself has said he has nothing else to live for, Dream simply couldn’t resist the opportunity. He has waited so long after all.

I want to see you, smiling with the power to destroy even God

Like the ancient magic you showed in my dreams when I was young

The lavish hall of his throne room fills with light, blinding and shining and oh so beautiful. It was a sight he had longed to see for the past few years, a sight he had imagined ever since that fateful day. When the brightness dissipates, he’s left with Techno gracelessly sprawled on the carpeted floor. He stifles a giggle behind his gloved hand, not wanting to wake the warrior whose body has just exerted himself to the limit in the process of his ascension. Instead the young god wraps his body with magic and waves a finger, lifting Techno off the ground and moving him towards the much lusher and more comfortable bed in his soon-to-be personal room a few doors down. Thankfully, he doesn’t stir all throughout the whole ordeal.

Dream gives a soft smile and stretches a little before standing up from his seat. He should go make another throne for his new companion now.

What I hold in these frightened hands of mine is courage made of handpicked flowers

This wish that will awaken the light

Chapter Text

Techno doesn’t exactly have a lot of free time. Between the Potato War and the never-ending climb to the top of the Bedwars leaderboards, all his breaks are used to further his own skills through harsh training. Even when the former had ended and when he had mostly resorted to casual matches for the latter, he still spent his time being productive one way or another. There was always something to learn, always some potential untapped and some skill to master. Most people don’t understand, but they don’t have to. What Techno does with his time is solely for himself, all his endeavors are all for his own satisfaction and sense of fulfillment.

Techno doesn’t exactly have a lot of free time, and he certainly doesn’t spend it watching his rival. But there are first times for everything, right?

Let's get a little bit dirty,

A little bit nasty,

A little bit gross

He doesn’t even know what made him slip into the growing crowd around the large display screens in the Main Hub. On a regular day, he wouldn’t ever be caught dead willingly going into an area with thousands of people all uncomfortably close around him, but then again he had already established that this wasn’t exactly a regular day. Perhaps it had been curiosity, or just boredom. Perhaps it had been his growing sense of loneliness, or the sheer monotony of his routine inevitably getting to him. Either way, he found himself staring up like everyone else and watching Dream on the live feedback of his new manhunt.

Come on, it's never too early,

I need the kick badly,

I'm ready to go

Techno is suddenly stricken with the notion that despite Dream being his so-called rival, he only really knows of him on the battlefield. He knows of Dream intimately, in the swings of his axe and the wall of his shield and the heels of his feet scraping against the ground of the arena as they exchange blow for blow in a close duel. He knows of Dream intimately, in the way his fingers tremble in anticipation before the first strike he always seems to take, in the way his movements speed up when backed up into a corner, in the way his confidence sizzles into impatience only to end up as his downfall. He knows of Dream intimately, of what his manner of fighting implies for his character, of the man behind the overarching elegant strikes of his blade, of his deeply rooted impulsiveness and intellect and fixations on his goals.

Can't help it, guess it's a habit,

Guess it's for fun,

It's just what I do

He knows of Dream, on the equal grounds they’ve been forced onto, on the flat lands of the arena where they can’t place or break blocks and had been given armor and weapons and left to fight. He doesn’t know of Dream in his element, in the environment of manhunts that he had so clearly mastered. He doesn’t know of Dream’s prowess in open terrain, in navigating far jumps and open chasms and tall treetops. He doesn’t know of Dream’s clever traps and exploits, of his countless methods of deception to lose the hunters so desperately trying to keep on his trail. He doesn’t know of Dream with the zephyr running its hands through his golden hair, of Dream with the orange glow of lava illuminating his masked face as he dangles precariously over it, of Dream with the beads of sweat running down his skin as he scales obsidian obelisks to destroy volatile purple crystals that hold the ender dragon’s life force.

Perhaps that’s why he had decided to watch this time, though he would never admit that, not even to himself.

Come on now, don't you get nervous

All the people,

All the people,

Say,

Dream is in the middle of a desert lake, building up to impressive heights. Of course, the hunters are right behind him and swiftly start building up, albeit with a few safety measures because Dream keeps trying to knock them off with either arrows or a fishing rod. The masked man is eerily silent, clearly planning something especially when he just keeps going higher despite having nowhere to go. Techno watches with a raised eyebrow as Dream makes a small platform for himself and sits down to change his boots from sparkling, nearly unscathed diamond to fragile gold. Techno is confused, because absolutely nothing warrants a downgrade in armor protection at this point. Techno becomes even more confused when he throws himself off the edge.

Unbelievable

It'll hit ya before you know it baby,

All the people know,

All the people know,

The crowd around Techno gasps, and it’s not hard to see why. Dream is swiftly plummeting towards the lake, with the hunters behind him having jumped not long after realizing he did. Even Techno finds himself watching a little more attentively as Dream dives into the water and scrambles to get up the netherrack platform at his crude tower’s base. He’s surrounded on all fronts already, with movement-restricting water and countless hostile mobs and he’ll be even more surrounded once the hunters hit the water beneath for safety. Except they don’t.

Techno realizes his plan almost a second too late, only truly registering it when he does a small jump in place and when the golden boots glow with an active enchantment. A sheet of ice spreads out in the water underneath his feet, surrounding him in a protective area of brittle yet deadly freeze.

I am not afraid to cause a scene tonight,

I'll show ya

By now you should know I do it all the time

Bad and Sapnap take the brunt of the fall, crashing into the trap headfirst to become a wisp of dissipating smoke and scattered inventory contents. They don’t even realize what happened, yelling their confusion and frustration over the communications system. The crowd cheers, and Techno can hardly fight the proud smile that takes over his face at the moment of sheer genius. Techno is already thoroughly impressed and rather drawn to his resourcefulness, but it all comes to a head when Dream breathes out a loud, almost hysterical laugh because holy shit.

Techno doesn’t know why he finds it attractive, and why he doesn’t mind finding it attractive.

And it's gonna be dangerous,

If you get in my way,

Cause I never stop,

Till I get my way yeah,

George lands in the water safely just in time but hesitates to take in the scene in front of him, and that single second of an opening is enough for Dream to bury his axe into his skull and make his body pop out of existence too. Dream screams out in triumph as George screams out in despair, backing away to reassess the situation as Ant stands there paralyzed in place. He takes out a piece of pork chop for rejuvenation, ripping into it with sharp canines which makes an unknown feeling bubble up in the pit of Techno’s stomach.

I am on top now,

Killing nonstop yeah,

When I come through like,

Come through like,

Come through like a,

Dream soon charges for Ant, successfully dodging and blocking blows while dealing massive damage. Ant attempts to slip away when his health is low and Dream isn’t far behind, yelling out to him to come back with a crazed tone to his voice that does more to Techno than he’d like to admit. Dream falls behind a bit, and just as Techno is beginning to think Ant might actually get away, the masked man pulls out a crossbow and loads it. He barely takes a moment to aim before letting the bolt fly through the air, hitting the target dead center and making Ant join his allies in respawning. Holy shit. Dream had just done that. Techno barely registers the people around him freaking out because he’s too fixated on the sight of Dream right know, panting after all that exertion.

His mask is cracked a little from the whole ordeal, split down the middle and just barely showing off half of his face. Time slows down for Techno, and he gets the full visage of wild chartreuse eyes almost glowing under the starlight and lips quirked up into an alluring smirk. His hood had fallen to his shoulders sometime during the fight, revealing messy flaxen strands with some plastered to his forehead with sweat. He raised a fingerless-gloved hand and runs it through them, letting slip a breathless laugh that could send chills down anyone’s spine. He looks terrifying. He looks beautiful.

He looks like Techno’s next infatuation.

Ma-ma-machine gun

Chapter Text

Techno grits his teeth at the sight in front of him, hands balled up into fists at his sides. His crimson eyes narrow into the slits of an intense glare, their blood red hue seeping out into the palpable waves of fury rolling off him.

Me being this way

I know you’re enjoying it

They’re in some kind of after party for MCC, but honestly Techno couldn’t give any less of a fuck on what’s going on. It’s not too bothersome, just a humble celebration with food and music and drinks where people lazed around after a long day of the continuous tournament. He doesn’t care so long as he’s left alone and the room isn’t too loud. He does care, however, that Dream is curled up into his best friend’s side in a warm hug. Now, normally this wouldn’t be an issue because nearly everyone knows that both of them are exceedingly clingy and affectionate when it comes to each other. If anything, this should have just been another day for anyone. No, this is an issue because of what Dream is doing, and how he seems to know what he’s doing.

The other glances back only to make eye contact, his calculating gaze lined with emerald piercing into his soul. His mask is only partially on, revealing half of a very attractive face that he doesn’t get to see around a lot.

As if you want me to see

Like tapping on my shoulders, ha ha funny

Dream is pressed up against his best friend in such a way that they slot perfectly together, the masked man leaning down to rest his head against the crook of the other’s neck with his chest pressed flush against his side and his arms wrapping just perfectly around his torso. There’s only one arm wrapped around Dream, but its hand is resting at his slim waist and Techno briefly feels his eye twitch in annoyance when he notices it. He doesn’t even know why he’s still paying attention, but he’s probably watching with poorly concealed anger as Dream takes the other arm and guides it to wrap around him as well. Except it isn’t that simple, because of course the masked man makes it so that his best friend’s hand runs down his lithe frame tantalizingly slow before ending up at his waist as well. It’s teasing. It’s frustrating. It’s downright maddening.

Not to mention, the little shit has the audacity to fucking smirk at him throughout the whole ordeal.

I thought I was special

I almost took it the wrong way

Techno rolls his eyes in response and starts to walk out of the room without much prerequisite. No one here would try to stop him, or even miss him if he left anyway. There’s no point staying here longer for a something that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth anyway, and he really needs to get out before he starts developing a grudge against Dream’s best friend. Techno is pretty sure he isn’t doing anything on purpose, so he’s not to blame. He’s successfully made it out of the building and the prying eyes of the crowd, but he’s pulled back abruptly halfway through navigating the extensive gardens on the way to the front gate.

He looks back to see fingers curling around his wrist, searing small flames into the exposed skin as a thumb traces circles on it. It’s almost scary how he doesn’t entirely mind.

I was thinking and now my head is spinning

Why are you doing this to me?

“What was that?” Techno’s gaze drifts upward to look at Dream, to take in the lazy smirk on his face as his mask is now nowhere to be found. Oh god, he’s not ready to have this conversation like this. He burns the visage of constellations on tan skin, bright emerald eyes, rosy cheeks and flaxen strands framing a sharp jawline into the back of his eyelids before swallowing the dry lump in his throat as he tries to formulate a coherent response.

“What was what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Techno does know, and he also knows that they both know, and yet he decides to play dumb. He doesn’t really know why, but he can chalk it up to not wanting to feel so raw and vulnerable in face of scrutinizing. He isn’t used to feelings, isn’t used to love and the love Dream just seems to invoke in him. It’s all too new, all too clumsy and embarrassing.

There is nothing between us, so what is this?

Why do you keep getting on my nerves?

“I don’t, actually.” Techno attempts to wave him off, but Dream just raises an eyebrow and tilts his head. It’s cute. Far too cute, honestly.

“So you don’t know that you’re jealous?”

“What is there to be jealous of?”

“Exactly.” Dream steps closer, and suddenly all the world is just him. He’s all up in his space, the night air between them replaced by a lime hoodie and the emptiness his hands are used to have suddenly been filled by Dream’s slipping his hand there to intertwine their fingers. “There’s nothing to be jealous of when you already have my heart.”

“Oh.” Techno responds, ever so eloquent. It makes Dream giggle, which appropriately makes his heart seize up. Goddamn, he was such a simp.

A little jealousy

Not me but another person

Your eyes stare deeply at him

“Don’t worry, it’s cute.” The blonde wipes an imaginary tear from his eye before his demeanor changes from day to night. A catlike smirk curls his lips upwards, and suddenly a hand is on Techno’s shoulder and a knee makes its way between his legs and Dream’s voice reduces to a mere whisper in his ear that sends a shiver down his spine. “It’s cute that you’re territorial, possessive, even, for someone that isn’t yours… yet.”

“Shut up.” Techno growls lowly then suddenly pulls him in closer, relishing the surprised squeak it earns him before muffling all teasing remarks with a rough kiss.

Jealousy

Not me but another person

Just stop talking about him, stop it

Chapter Text

Techno hates the rain. He wishes it didn’t exist.

Well, not really. The rain is, logically speaking, very valuable for the environment. Priceless, even. It’s especially important right now when their earth is, you know, slowly dying out because of the inherent stupidity of humanity. Rain is simply just part of the water cycle which is also very important, and he doubts he would be here right now if not for the eventual effect of rainfall on the earth creating the first forms of life. Well, he also doesn’t recall asking to be created, but that’s not the point. The point is that he doesn’t really hate the rain and doesn’t really think it’s stupid because he actually has a functioning brain, mind you. How else would he excel at so many classes? Or better yet, how else would he be so good at Minecraft?

It’s a relief that the umbrella that’s heading towards you is a small one

This situation is unexpected, right when our shoulders touched

He’s just not a fan of rain like this, of downpour creating splashing puddles and slippery sidewalks on a day when all he just wants to do is get home after a long eight hours at school. Not to imply that he’s clumsy and would otherwise have trouble navigating the wet streets, of course. Nope, totally not. It’s only because he doesn’t like just how gloomier his mood becomes after years of associating rain with sadness, thanks to movies. Really, that sort of consistent cinematic decision was just some sort of test drive for mass psychological conditioning at that point. Give it a few more years and maybe the government will start doing the same. Or maybe not. He hopes not, he still wants to get better at Minecraft and being under mind control doesn’t exactly leave him with a lot of leeway to practice that. Ah, shit, he keeps going off track. Where was he? Right, going home. In the rain. Ugh.

‘Where can I find a place to walk in?’

Even when I’m talking to myself, my steps keep slowing down

I can’t stop, I can’t stop this feeling

Despite all his complaining, Techno does eventually pull out an umbrella to prepare for the walk. One way or another, he’s going home and he’d prefer it sooner rather than later. Even if it means walking in the rain… getting his shoes wet… getting his clothes soaked despite the umbrella’s best attempts… getting his hair all weird from the amount of humidity in the air… Ugh.

He’s so very rudely interrupted from lamenting his fate when someone abruptly crashes through the main doors of the school, frantically running then coming to a halt right next to him. Techno is a human being, and is therefore curious so of course he looks next to him to see who it is.

Oh, it’s Dream. Supposedly his rival of sorts according to the rest of their peers, but really they’re just amicable friends that come head to head when it comes to grades. Sure, maybe some friendly competition here and there, but nowhere near what the rumors imply. That’s why when Dream waves and begins to walk towards him, he just waves back. He swears it’s not just because he wants to spend time with him, nope. He’s just being a good friend by waiting for Dream. 

I can even hear your breathing sound since we’re this close

I wish time would stop like this yeah

“Hey, Techno!” Dream greets with a smile. Techno turns away, of course. He’s just awkward, it’s not because he feels butterflies flutter in his stomach when that smile is directed towards him. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Do you mind if I…?” Dream trails off and gestures towards the umbrella with one hand, and Techno takes just one glance at him to find that he doesn’t have anything on him aside from his own bag. He rolls his eyes in fond exasperation and just shrugs. Of course he forgot his umbrella, he was probably rushing out in the first place because he thought he could make it home before it got too heavy.  

“Sure. C’mere.” He holds his umbrella so that it goes over both of them, letting Dream adjust accordingly and oh.

I really hate the rain, but today I came to like it a bit

No, don’t stop just yet

The rain can soak my left shoulder a little bit more

Dream’s side is pressed flush against him, and the warmth is just about to make him dizzy. Their arms are squished together uncomfortably, and Techno instinctively moves to wrap an arm around Dream to remedy that. What’s worse is that the other doesn’t even attempt to push him off, instead snuggling even closer to him beyond what Techno thought was physically possible. What’s even worse than worse is that Techno finds that he doesn’t particularly mind the proximity right now, instead it seems like he actually likes it. Oh god, what has he become?

“Shall we go?” Dream breathes out in a whisper and giggles, and oh god Techno can feel it more than hear it. He feels the rumble of Dream’s chest as he speaks and laughs, and it’s just short of maddening.

The love song inside the rain

Love song, love song, yeah

We make our own island

Techno only nods numbly, swallowing the lump in his throat and guiding them as they walk out of school premises. Their houses are just a few blocks away from each other, but Dream points towards the other direction and Techno just follows him. The walk is just ten minutes long, but their steps are so slow and they take their time. The rain is supposed to make them gloomy and cold, but Techno only feels joy and warmth in his heart the longer they spend under it.

Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all.

Like this, love this love this love this rain

Under the rain that falls upon us, all day

Chapter Text

Techno is seven years old when he first meets his best friend.

He is merely a young child, running through the open clearing just at the outskirts of his home village. The gentle breath of zephyr ruffles his clothes as his feet take him through the fields with reckless abandon. Blades of grass tickle his ankles as they brush them past, and small giggles are elicited out of him until he reaches the foot of a towering elm tree. Having nothing better to do than wait for his brothers who weren’t even sure to come, he of course decides to scale the trunk with little difficulty. Years of practiced movement take him to a branch higher up in the air, and it’s enough for him to be able to see the village from there. His legs dangle precariously over the ground that seems so far away, but he doesn’t fret when he has the sight of the clear skies and plentiful clouds hanging over a vast expanse of land to keep him occupied.

This was a calming place for him. Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely loves his family, but sometimes he just needed time away from the chaos. He isn’t so keen on thriving in such a distracting environment, but thankfully they’re lenient at giving him the space he needs. Over here, running through the clearings, he was unreachable in how he sped through the grass like it was nothing. Up here, sitting on the branch of a tree, he was unreachable in how he hides within its thick patches of leaves. And so, he’s left with nothing but his thoughts and his five senses to occupy himself with.

In the distance, he spots someone lying down on a bed of flowers. They look so peaceful there, surrounded by a splash of color and a myriad of different aromas. Techno can only imagine how relaxing that must be, how the world must melt around them when in presence of nature at its purest form. He wishes he could join, if only to take himself to a more beautiful world for just a moment. And so, he goes down the tree and walks towards them. Life is just so simple as a child, as things are only a matter of yes or no and your ability to accomplish tasks.

He introduces himself with a mixture of hesitance and fervor, words fumbling out of his mouth in a much more uncouth fashion than he originally had in mind. He never was really good with speaking, with saying things out loud and pouring out his thoughts into sound for the rest of the world to hear. This was just one of the many incidents that would push him deeper into his shell, would make him swallow what he had to say lest he make another mistake, would make him keep everything to himself and himself only. Briefly, he wonders if he had messed up his first impression when the stranger simply smiles at him in gentle reassurance and patiently waits for him to correct himself.

Techno learns that the person’s name is Dream and that they’re both the same age. He learns that Dream is warm and accommodating, that his friendliness knows no bounds and that his smile rivals that of the sun. He learns that Dream is funny and clever, that his quips rival Techno’s own sarcasm and that conversation between them just flows as seamless as a stream of water. He learns that Dream is vibrant and expressive, that his hands flail around frantically when he tries to get his point across and that his emerald eyes shine brighter than a thousand gemstones in the light.

Dream had just recently moved into the village with his family, only managing to fully settle in not even a week before. He had come from a more rural place, and his parents found better job opportunities here than there. When Techno asks if he misses his hometown, he simply shrugs and waves it off while saying that he doesn’t exactly mind. He speaks of the allure of adventure, of the thrill of unpredictability and the way adrenaline gives such a euphoric feeling of triumph. Even Techno finds himself swayed by his sentiments, nodding along as his new friend spins stories of valiant endeavors and arduous travels with a fervor so alike a child’s passion.

They spend their time there on the flowerbeds of the clearing, talking about everything and nothing as the time passes them by. Techno doesn’t quite know how the day went by so quick, but Dream tells him that it’s because they’re having so much fun. He instantly agrees with it because it’s true, after all. He hears his father call for him from a few tens of meters away, and he doesn’t hesitate in grabbing his new friend by the wrist and urging him towards his family to introduce them to each other. Vibrant blues melt into the pinks and oranges of the setting sun on the horizon, and it marks the end of their first day together.

There would be many more after that, of course.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a quick trip.

As all angels are at some point of their immortal lives, Dream is curious about the world outside the pearly gates of paradise. He is especially curious about the quaint little creatures full of free will and contradictions known as humans. He wants to know what made them tick, what made them the way they are. As fellow creatures created in the gods’ image, he is strangely drawn to their antics even in the midst of his daily life.

It’s not that he doesn’t like heaven, for it is truly wonderful in its own right. Towers of marble reaching out into the boundless sky and bountiful gardens are still breathtaking every time he strolled the streets of the divine city. Statues of ivory marking the sides of the path and silken drapes are still pleasant to the touch every time his fingertips run over them gently. It’s all perfect, but perfection could only be appreciated in scarcity. So where everything is flawless, Dream finds himself entertained by the little flaws. On earth, he finds joy in the varying blemishes of apples plucked from the same tree, in the wrinkles of people’s clothing, in the slight discrepancies between the pastries from one bakery. There is beauty in the reachable, in the attainability of that which is natural that makes its ethereality so much more impressive. There is beauty in the flaws, and humans are so very full of them. So much so that he loves to look at them in his free time, so much so that no one bats an eye when he comes barreling out the gates and down into the mortal realm.

Except maybe he should’ve listened to his best friend a bit more, so he wouldn’t be lying on the gravel path with his knees scraped and bleeding when he is supposed to go back for the night. Nearly a century of existence, and his carelessness is still as prevalent as ever. It’s as clear as day that he’s still young and inexperienced. Regardless of the slight sting and dirtied white garments, he isn’t exactly fazed by them. It’s just a few scratches, really, it would be easy to treat and heal for a creature like him. He isn’t exactly fazed by anything until he hears rapidly nearing footsteps. Worn leather shoes crunch against the terrain until they come to a halt just in front of him. Interest piqued, he looks up to see who approached him.

He’s stunning. absolutely gorgeous. The first thing that catches Dream’s eye is the stranger’s own, and at that moment his fate is sealed. It’s almost pathetic, how easily an angel surrounded by the grandest of sights for decades is entranced by a mere human’s soul piercing yet gentle gaze. It’s even more pathetic how he notices the way pink hair falls perfectly over crimson eyes and frame the side of his face, and how they draw his attention to a sculpted jawline then down to defined collarbones ever so slightly peeking out of his sheer grey embroidered dress shirt with a deep black vest over it. The stranger leans over a little to stretch a gloved hand out for Dream to take. With a barely audible gulp, he complies and puts his own shaky hand in his.

The contact burns, but not as much as the cold metal of a gold ring engraved with small diamonds.

“Are you alright?” the stranger asks him once he’s pulled up to his feet. He looks even more incredible up close, where their faces are easily just a few inches apart and his lips are just one more temptation away. “That looks rather nasty. we should patch you up before it gets infected. Thankfully for us, I always bring around some first aid.”

Dream nods numbly, and before long he’s sat down on a worn down log where none of its splinters could dig into his skin deeper than the thorns of desire snaking their way around his heart. It’s so funny. The sun is setting, but it seems brighter than ever when its rays of light kiss the stranger’s skin the way Dream himself wants to. He’s only holding him to disinfect his wounds, yet it feels like something more despite the way the engagement ring digs into his flesh when the grip tightens. He handles the injured area so delicately, yet every graze of his fingertips sends jolts rushing up his spine. It’s just so funny, so unbelievably hilarious how Dream’s world seems to shift entirely around this man he just met.

“My name is Techno. What’s yours?” That snaps him out of his thoughts. Techno, huh? What a pretty name. Pretty coming from a pretty boy’s lips. Pretty rolling off the tip of Dream’s tongue, the sound drifting off into the chilly haze of dusk. Everything about him is just so pretty, from his eyes and his face to the name it was given. Dream may have just said he isn’t fazed by perfection, but he discovers he just hasn’t actually seen it until now.

“I’m Dream.” is all he manages to say, words held lest they spill unwelcome adoration.

“Where are you from?” Techno is trying to make small talk, and who is Dream to deny him?

“That’s rather boring, I’m sure everyone has heard of it already.” He waves it off nonchalantly, and the other man gives a low chuckle.

“Rather mysterious, aren’t you?”

“It’s more of I’d just like to know more about you instead.”

“I’m sure I’m as interesting as your hometown that apparently everyone knows.”

“You’d be just like everyone my age were it not for your ring.” Well, his physical age at the very least. Pretty boys or not, he doesn’t exactly want to spill his identity to people he’s just met. “Is there a story behind it?”

“Arranged marriage. Yes, there's a story behind it, but it's a rather long one.” Techno hums in acknowledgement as he finishes dressing the abrasions before standing up to prepare to leave. “Well, Dream, those should heal up in no time. I hope that our next meeting wouldn’t come at the cost of a few scrapes.” His tone is lighthearted and Dream mutters his gratitude as he turns and starts walking away.

This is the best conclusion by far. They would never see each other again, never to be tempted by the tendrils of forbidden love creeping up on them. Dream would go back to his heavenly duties, and Techno would return to his normal everyday life. Dream would keep his purity and chastity, and Techno would get married and have a hopefully peaceful honeymoon. It was, logically speaking, the best course of action.

Yet despite the voice of reason in his head ringing clear, he still finds it in himself to entertain his innermost fantasies. He still finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from Techno’s retreating back. He can’t tell if the devil is whispering into his ear or if his heart was truly stolen but whatever it was, it was doing a great job of making his very being itch for more. He wanted more. Desire creeps under his skin and seeps into his core the further apart they are. It’s almost unbearable. He didn’t feel divine, as if around Techno he stopped being an angel of the gods and was simply Dream; yes, the very same Dream that craved all of Techno, that wanted him to be his, that wanted to hold him close and never let go.

His best friend always told him to shoot his shot when given the chance, so he did.

Dream runs up and reaches out for Techno’s shoulder, scrunching up the probably expensive intricate fabric as he pulls him back; his other hand coming up to cup his cheek and guide him into a sudden kiss. His eyelids close shut at the invigorating feeling; it’s not gentle but it isn’t rough either, not with how soft his untainted skin feels against Techno’s own. Oh, how he melts into the gesture like ice cream on a hot summer day when the butterflies in his stomach flutter up his throat in the form of a needy whine. He swallows up the surprised squeak elicited from Techno’s parted lips, drowning the muffled sound when he tilts his head to slot their mouths together as deep as physically possible. It’s electrifying to get a taste of forbidden love, to taste Techno on his tongue when he swipes it against his lower lip greedily as if to wipe away his sin.

The contact burns, but not as much as the sting of rejection when he’s being pushed away.

Chapter Text

Techno is five years old when he first meets Dream. His family had just moved to this town, and they were introducing themselves to the neighbors. Techno peeks out from behind his father, crimson eyes wide and curious at the mention of someone his age. At the neighbor’s side is another kid that looks roughly the same height as him, with messy blonde hair and equally messy clothes. He beams at the sight of him and runs over, babbling and quickly declaring them to be friends forever before even introducing himself. Techno looks up to his father as if to ask for permission, and he only smiles gently and urges him to go play with his new friend.

A flower blooms splendidly, in this dream-place even the wind is sweet

If I am with you, wherever it is, my heart flutters as it enters a picture

Techno is ten years old when he first dips his toes into the world of art. He and Dream had grown closer in those years together, soon becoming attached at the hip. Formalities are dropped and walls are broken, and soon Techno familiarizes himself with referring to Dream as his best friend. As a result, he’s quickly dragged into whatever shenanigans the other seems to come up with. He doesn’t exactly mind; in fact, he finds it rather entertaining most of the time. Right now, the blonde is interested in the painting classes the older kids seem to be taking, and wants to try it out for himself. Techno protests that they could be disturbing them but then Dream pulls him by the wrist, eyes twinkling in excitement and he just couldn’t bring himself to dull the shine in those bright emeralds.

I’m drunk on you, leaning on the faraway scent

Leaving behind time, I’m looking at you

When the white moon rises, I see you reflected on it

Techno is thirteen years old when he first finds his own medium of art. The strokes of paint on empty canvas never appealed to him like it did to Dream, never came to him as easily as it had to his creative friend. His colors were never right, his grip was always a little shaky, his creations were always a bit lopsided or off-center. Instead, he finds his heart in the art of writing, in the art of words on paper creating imagery as vivid as paintings, in the art of pouring out his sentiments to be immortalized in sheets of hard work and passion. Instead, he finds his passion in the strokes of ink on empty paper, in the words that flow out of his mouth to make coherent stories in hand-bound leather books. And so, they remain this way, with Dream the painter and Techno the writer and both of them equally artistic best friends. Dream brings to life what Techno’s words cannot, and Techno writes the stories that Dream’s work cannot. They fill the gaps in each other’s skills, they bring what is missing to create whole masterpieces. Just like that, they fit together perfectly.

Days and nights are all you

Without any space in between, you fill me up

All sounds of life seem like you

Techno is sixteen years old when he first gets his muse. He had been going through a tough time, plagued by one of the biggest ruts of writer’s block he’s ever experienced. The words don’t flow quite right, the dialogue is coming off awkward, everything just feels so off. He turns to his best friend, about to rant to him in frustration before freezing in place. Dream looks positively ethereal as he works on his painting, the sunlight peeking out from the leaves of the tree they’re under bathing him in a golden glow. It falls on his freckled cheeks, it falls on his messy hair, it falls on his fluttering eyelids and reflects off his bright eyes in such a way that seems almost deliberate, that seems almost like nature himself is gracing him with beauty. Before long, Techno picks up his pen and writes of gentle golds and shimmering emeralds and constellations on skin, the words flowing as easily as a river in the summer. He doesn’t think he’s ever struggled to write anything, after that.

Paint it on a little thicker, this night spreads deeply

So that I can't escape, I close my eyes and look for you inside me

Techno is nineteen years old when he first comes across that book of myths in the local library. Of course, he brings it to Dream so they can look over it together. It’s always been this way, always been the two of them doing things together and never one without the other. They open the book, and are promptly enamored by the pictures and words it shows them. It speaks of creatures and places and people, all mind boggling and otherworldly and surreal. It speaks of mischievous pixies, malicious demons, faraway wonders and more. It speaks of a beautiful paradise that never really stays in one place, always moving and hiding from prying eyes. At Dream’s awe and curiosity, Techno really should’ve known what was coming next.

I’m drunk, a little bit too drunk

I want to fall in this dream

As you approached, you are ingrained in me

Techno is twenty years old when he first leaves his town to depart on a journey. Of course Dream wanted to search for that supposed paradise, as he had always been attracted to beauty and artistry and everything in between. Of course Dream wanted to bring Techno with him, as they had always been attached at the hip from the very start. Their families don’t even bat an eye when they mention travelling together, instead wishing them safety and satisfaction. Techno gives a sheepish smile and promises souvenirs, and Dream promises stories and paintings of the paradise when they come upon it.

The night asks how I’m doing

The red camellia that resembles you gets jealous

Techno is twenty years and one month old when he first shares a bed with his best friend. The inn had been full except for one room with a single bed, and they were both too tired to even care. Except maybe Techno should’ve cared a little more, seeing as he’s lying wide awake in the middle of the night. He really can’t sleep with the situation he’s faced with right now, and he has to deal with its consequences in the following morning. It’s in the way Dream’s body presses against him, a constant heat at his side that he just wants to keep there forever. It’s in the way their limbs slot together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle never to be taken apart. It’s in the way the moonlight frames Dream’s face, illuminating his peaceful features and tracing them in the way he wants his fingers to as well. Techno likes the way gold looks on Dream, but discovers that silver is equally as stunning too.

Your sweet lips dazzle and shine

Calling the waves to rise in my sleeping heart

Techno is twenty years and four months old when he first goes on a canoe ride. It’s for leisure, really, they have little to gain in terms of travel distance by slowly rowing a small boat at night with only the city’s lanterns to guide their path. But when Dream is awed by the night and the gentle waves and the quiet ambience, Techno is never one to defy him. He rows the boat without much complaint, listening to Dream’s endless rambles about the colors and the landscapes and the scenery of the world around them. Dream marvels at the blossoms falling around them and the gentle artificial light making the water twinkle, running his hands through the surface and watching it ripple under his touch. Techno is fixated on his best friend like always, and Dream has to pull him out of his train of thought by pointing out that they’ve gone far away enough from the cities to be able to see the clear night skies. The stars are beautiful tonight, but never as beautiful as the constellations on Dream’s skin.

Even unripe peaches taste sweet

Under the scattering flower petals, following the tip of your silk clothes

Techno is twenty years and eight months old when he first discovers that the paradise they’ve been searching for might not even exist. Months of doubt had settled into their bones by that point, and the offhand comment from a passerby had been the breaking point of it all. Dream is easily frustrated, easily discouraged and disheartened at every mention of the possibility of all this being useless. Techno can only pull him into a reassuring hug in an attempt to calm his shaking frame and trembling hands and leaking tears. Dream is beautiful, Techno discovers, even when consumed by the flames of anguish. However he doesn’t exactly want to see him in distress all the time, so he wipes the evidence of crying from flushed cheeks and mutters hushed reassurances to calm him down. It works just a bit, and Techno is beginning to see his sunlight again in the midst of the raging storm. I promised, he says and it curbs that which thunders tempest. I promised I would stay with you, no matter what.

Holding you close, I know the sound of your breath

You’re blowing over to me in this dream-like imagination

Techno is twenty years and ten months old when he first notices that he doesn’t care so much if their search ends up futile. Sure, he went on this long journey and all, but he doesn’t really think it’s a completely useless endeavor. He still gained knowledge along the way, still experienced new things and made fond memories to be kept tucked away and never forgotten. If anything, he’s just indifferent to the prospect of the paradise not existing in the first place. He only really cares at how upset it would make Dream. He isn’t really here to search for any kind of beauty, considering he already has his muse. Techno sometimes wonders why Dream searches for beauty so much when he’s already the embodiment of such.

Days and nights are all you

Even my swaying heart

Your thick scent bewitches me

Techno is twenty years and eleven months old when he first realizes he’s in love. In hindsight, it should’ve really been obvious. Nothing else could explain how his hands itch to hold his, how his arms ache without the familiar warmth settled in them, how his legs immediately tangle with his when they find themselves lying in bed in a lazy embrace. Nothing else could explain the warm feeling in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach, the way his gaze could never seem to leave Dream. He had always been enamored, always been soft and always been in love. He tests the way it feels on his tongue, he tests the way I love Dream feels in soft-spoken words and rushed whispers. It feels right, of course. It feels comforting and wonderful and just so very right. Had it always been this simple, or was it just a thing when it came to the two of them? Techno can’t really tell, but he doesn’t exactly mind.

I fly, I fly with you inside the fantasy spread in this dream

You’re getting closer, blossoming in my heart once again

Techno is twenty-one years old when he finally spills the sentiments he had held so dear. It isn’t anything special, it’s just them waking up in the morning and starting to get ready for the day ahead of them. It isn’t explosive, or groundbreaking, or earth-shattering like everyone else had described. It comes easily, it comes naturally, just as everything in their relationship so far had. His words flow just as seamlessly as every time he had written about Dream, his affections coming out as effortlessly as the words on his paper every time he ever so much thinks of his best friend. Everything was just so easy, so natural, in becoming friends, in being attached at the hip, in travelling together, in falling in love. It only makes sense that it also comes easily and naturally when Dream slips his arms around his neck and presses his lips to his, and when he kisses back with an equal amount of fervor and tenderness.

This is far better than what paradise could ever be.

I know only you

The place I’ve been looking for is none other than you

When I open my eyes again, you are ingrained in me

Chapter Text

Dream doesn’t know when the stench of cheap alcohol, the sound of rough guitar riffs and sight of the barely lit stage started becoming home. Maybe it was when he was twelve years old, attention drawn to the neon signs of nightclubs and the muffled music coming from inside that was audible even from the inside of his family’s car as they pass it by. Maybe it was when he was sixteen years old, picking up an electric guitar for the first time and finally turning the incessant abstract nonsense in his head into lyrics that speak of teenage angst and invasive doubtful thoughts. Maybe it was when he was he was eighteen years old, coughing through the burn in his throat after his first swig of… something at a college party. Regardless, he was now twenty-one years old and at peace with the heavy metal ringing in his ears and the constant chatter from the tables around him, leaning back in his seat as he absentmindedly runs his fingertips over the neck of his own instrument.

C'mon, now we're makin' good progress

You writing a good song? We gonna get mobilizing?

He glances to his side through half-lidded eyes, taking in the visage of his partner despite having known each other for years at this point. It's not like he ever got tired of looking at his face, anyway. He had met Techno at around the same time he started this whole journey, back when the only time he really had to himself was staying late in his classroom after school ended. It was their little secret, it always was and always will be. Dream hid his more intense and personal songs in the last pages of school notebooks, sometimes afraid of the poison dripping off his mouth and staining the sheets with the greens of envy and the reds of rage and the blacks of despair. Techno lost his frustrations in the dull ache of fingers frantically sliding across strings and the gritty feedback of old speakers, letting his rough edges show in the way that the elegance of fencing and violin playing never truly allowed. It was always just them, behind locked doors and thick walls exploring music until the sun started to hide behind the horizon and painted the blue sky orange.

"You have a reputation, but you're not all that popular, so things are a bit tough, huh?"

It isn’t entirely clear what pushed them both to be so close. It could’ve been Dream’s desire for escapism or Techno’s need for a break from the expectations imposed on him, but either way they’ve grown to be the closest of friends. Well, ‘friends’ is a rather broad term, really. They’re certainly something more, something more primal and raw and beyond the general boundaries of a reasonable platonic relationship, but they haven’t put a name to it yet. It’s not like anyone knew, anyway, so there was no need to slap a label on what they were. So long as it’s just them, so long as it’s something between them, it doesn’t necessarily matter what it is.

Dream sighs out abruptly, the memories running through his mind and images flashing at the back of his eyelids making him far more nostalgic than he had mentally prepared himself to be. His hand reaches out for the half-full glass of alcohol sitting at the table, about to take a sip but then it’s unceremoniously plucked out of his fingers. His eyes snap open, glaring at a pair of crimson ones as a complaint builds up in his throat.

Say what you mean, anonymous icon

Won't show who you really are, live-action icon

“I hate to see pretty lips drunk on budget beer.” Techno drawls nonchalantly, before putting the rim to his lips and tipping his head back to empty the glass himself. Dream doesn’t hide how he stares at the expanse of his neck as he gulps it down, doesn’t hide how his gaze rakes over defined collarbones in the low lighting.

“I wouldn’t look in the mirror if I were you, then.” Dream rolls his eyes and bites back, the back and forth banter somehow even more familiar to him than the way taut strings dig into his fingers.

Grow up and lose the self-consciousness, boy

“You flirt back.” Techno sets the glass down and puts his arm around the back of the chair Dream is leaning back on, putting his face close enough for the other to feel his hot breath on the tip of his ear. “I like it.”

“Only with the ones that are worth it.” Dream shifts in his seat, turning to the side so that he’s facing Techno completely, reveling at the view just before his eyes. Techno is lucky he’s hot, otherwise Dream would find the situation a lot more annoying and bothersome.

I'm gonna level with you, no matter how clever or sly you are

That makeup's gonna fade away after ten years

“You’re really going to do this, Dream?” Techno mutters under his breath, but even through the loud music Dream is able to hear it. It’s almost like the world around them melts into nothing whenever they’re like this, and neither of them can find it in them to mind. “Right when we’re about to be called up there?”

“You started it, Tech. It’s only right if you finish it.” Dream lifts a hand to tug at Techno’s collar, pulling him closer so that their noses are touching and their lips are just a temptation away. It would be so easy, really, for him to close the distance and reclaim Techno as his. However, he doesn’t really feel like moving so he’ll have to leave that to Techno.

“Perhaps.” Techno whispers, a hand coming up to rest at the back of Dream’s neck and guide him.

We ain't dying

Neither of us are!

Alcohol is somehow sweeter when he’s tasting it from Techno’s mouth, somehow more dizzying and intoxicating when he’s licking it off his tongue. His fingers are running through long pink hair, pulling at it ever so slightly to elicit a groan from Techno. Dream smiles into the kiss, canines peeking out to nip teasingly at swollen lips. Like all things when it comes to Techno, it’s comforting, it’s natural, and it feels like home. Forever seems to have passed by the time they finally part, cheeks flushed and breaths heavy and slow in tandem with the closing notes of the songs playing from the speakers. Techno looks at him through lidded eyes and whispers just one last thing as he looks at the stage.

“That’s our cue.”

Roki-roki-rockin'-rock'n'roll

The strumming of the electric guitar

Don't stop! Don't stop!

Dream wheezes out a laugh and shoves him off lightheartedly, shaking his head at the grin on the other’s face as he picks up his guitar and starts walking towards the stairs. He puts the guitar strap over himself, smoothing out the creases of his hoodie while he waits for the other to finally catch up to him. While the host is introducing them, he fixes Techno’s collar and tucks stray strands of hair behind his ear with a fond smile. Familiar nervous excitement courses through his veins and thrums beneath the surface of his skin just seconds before the first notes to their first song for the night, and he loves how it just never gets old.

And if he and Techno share knowing looks while performing songs that speak of love, then that’s for only them to know.

C'mon, now, let me see you

Let it all out

Roki-roki-rockin'-rock'n'roll

Chapter Text

“Blood God.”

“Nightmare.”

Even the breeze seems to quiet down at the tense moment. They’re on a rooftop in the middle of the night, with only the distant streetlights of the city below and the faraway twinkles of the stars above to illuminate them. Still, despite the low lighting and the masks covering their faces, familiar features don’t escape alert eyes. Even though it had been a while, the remnants of love aren’t so quick to become fleeting memories. They're still as potent as ever, still as vivid and fervid as if they had never even been dulled in the first place.

“You don’t have to call me that. You know full well who I am.” The one in the green hoodie speaks out first, a hand coming up to fiddle with the porcelain smiling mask covering his entire face. The air is thick with unbridled tension, and he almost wishes he never confronted him.

“Then extend that sentiment to me. I would like to think I’m not that forgettable.” The one in the regal clothing scoffs and flips his loose braid over his shoulder, quickly unclasping the straps that hold the boar skull mask upright. Stray strands of pink hair frame crimson eyes and pale skin, gaze sharp and unreadable as it focuses on the other man.

“Touché, Techno, touché.” Dream laughs softly as he finally pulls off his mask and reveals his face to his world. It’s the same messy flaxen hair, the same wild chartreuse eyes that Techno had fallen in love with long ago. That Techno is still in love with, even. “How long has it been?”

“Well, Dream, we graduated from UA three years ago. And I haven’t heard from you since then.” There’s something bitter in Techno’s timbre, something unsavory and distasteful like a lump in his throat that is tough to swallow.

“It feels like it’s been forever. Did you miss me, at least?” Dream asks, even if he knows the answer. He doesn’t know what else to do with himself, doesn’t know how to explain what he’s been up to even if he’s sure the other is smart enough to figure it out.

“Would it really have hurt to leave a message?” Techno’s voice is strained, laced with underlying tones of pain and saudade. It’s indicative of how he’s been without Dream, of dreary days and sleepless nights spent in endless worry and panic. It’s indicative of pangs of hurt and twinges of torment, of the dull ache of emptiness settling in his heart.

“Sorry, sorry. It isn’t that simple. You know how it is.”

Silence befalls them, and none of them are sure what exactly to do about it. Like always, Dream is the first one to do something about it. He walks up to where Techno is sitting at the edge of the rooftop and sits down next to him. The pinkette still doesn’t move, just follows his movement with his eyes and turns to the side to face him properly. Slowly, tentatively, his hand comes up between them to settle on the blonde’s own. His thumb runs over the callused skin gently; it’s like he’s feeling, searching for the tangible and undeniable proof that Dream’s here right now. It’s a familiar sensation, and one they had both longed for in the past few years.

“So.” Dream starts, attempting to fill the awkward and empty air with something, anything. “How are things going, mister top hero?”

“In terms of fighting crime? Not too bothersome.” Techno waves that off, nonchalant. It’s like it’s nothing special, nothing impressive. “In terms of press and media? Hell.” He deadpans, voice monotone which makes Dream giggle. It’s so contagious that it brings a smile to Techno’s face, too.

“I mean, I can’t exactly blame them. It’s almost baffling just how much you’ve done in just three years, fresh out of high school too.” Dream intertwines their fingers and squeezes a bit, making eye contact with a soft smile and an honest statement. “I’m proud of you, you know?”

Techno doesn’t respond for a while, eyes fixated on the visage of the face of his dreams that he hadn’t seen for so long. Dream almost thinks he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, until he speaks up in a quiet whisper. “What made you do this, Dream?”

Ah. Well, that was bound to come up eventually. It’s inevitable, really. “Do what, Techno?”

“What made you join the League of Villains?” A sharp inhale punctuates how his breath hitches as a lump begins to form in his throat. Dream has always known that Techno already knows, but it’s still something entirely different to hear it coming from the man himself. It feels like a confirmation, like things are being set in stone. He doesn’t like to face reality a lot, not when the world outside his and Techno’s little bubble seems so cruel.

“I think you, out of all people, would understand that best.” Dream’s free hand comes up to cup one side of Techno’s face, to tangle his fingers into his hair and graze at the long scar running across the expanse of his cheek up to the bridge of his nose.

It was from way too long ago, but while the physical pain faded, the emotional impact never truly went away. The sour memories were burned into the back of their minds, evidence of worse times like the scars littering their skin. Techno and Dream had always stuck together ever since childhood, under the pretense of safety in numbers. Even then, they were still targets. It never made a difference, but at least they had each other. Name calling, mocking remarks, being avoided, getting hit… it was all too familiar. Too many times they had lamented, too many times they had shed blood and tears and sweat to the point where it didn’t feel like there was a difference between them anymore. And to think it was all because of how their quirks were viewed.

Society wonders why people become villains. They wonder, as they categorize quirks into the two spectrums of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and immediately apply those labels to the people behind the powers. They wonder, as they shun people for things they were born with and couldn’t control. They wonder, as they are quick to make assumptions and call people monsters. They wonder, as they push and push and push until those people become outcasts. They wonder, as the only ones that welcome those people with open arms and give them a place to call home are those also seen as ‘bad’. Society wonders why people become villains when they were the ones to push them into that predefined mold in the first place.

“Of course I do.” Techno’s intense stare softens and turns wistful. “I don’t really blame you. It’s the same for me too, honestly. I try not to let it get to me.”

“They’re still on about it?” Dream whispers, disbelieving. In fact, he takes his hand away from Techno’s face to pull out his phone to check the Internet, the forums, anything. Sure enough, it was all right there. Just the search results under ‘Blood God’ are already heated, controversy stirring as two sides seem to argue about the nature of his power. All this, despite all the good that the hero has already done.

“Yeah. There’s some… unsavory articles. I’d rather not look at it, so I don’t.” Techno winces as he glances at the bright screen and sees familiar words. Dangerous. Savage. Uncontrollable. So much more, and way too much.

“Yeah... My quirk surely wouldn’t be well received at all.” Dream turns his device off, and turns to face Techno once again. He raises his free arm up, as if asking for permission. The pinkette nods, and he wastes no time in pulling him close in a warm embrace. Techno buries his face into Dream’s shoulder, and if he can feel how the cloth there dampens with stray tears, then he doesn’t mention it.

“Why are you here then?” Techno pipes up with a voice threatening to break, desperate for some kind of change in topic. “I would like to think one of the top villains isn’t daft enough to approach pro heroes unarmed without expecting to be arrested.”

“Well, you don’t look like you’re gonna arrest me.” Dream smiles as Techno only tightens the hug when he wraps an arm around his waist. He sighs, pleased at the proximity and contact. Some things just won’t ever change, huh?

“That’s true.” The hero chuckles, and the villain can feel it more than hear it with the vibrations against his shoulder. “But still, you must have some reason for being here. I don’t think you’d just randomly show up after years of making us think you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Well, you see…” Dream pulls away from the hug, making Techno look at him in confusion. He laughs nervously, fingers immediately fiddling with the string of his hoodie when he can’t trace patterns into the other’s palm. “I have a proposition of sorts.”

“And what does it entail, exactly?” Techno’s eyebrows raise in interest. Well, it’s now or never, really.

“Right here, right now, I put the offer out.” Dream pulls out a piece of paper from his hoodie pocket, and places it into Techno’s palm. “I don't want to chase you down; I know you see it.”

“You run with me and I can cut you free out of the drudgery and walls you keep in.” Techno glances down while Dream is talking, and sees a string of numbers crudely written down. There’s too many for it to be a phone number, so he quickly realizes it must be the coordinates to some kind of location. There’s a date and time on there as well, marking it to be exactly one month from now.

“So trade that typical for something colorful.” Dream abruptly stands from his seat, making Techno look at him in alarm with how he just stands precariously over a daunting fall. And yet, at the apparent danger, the blonde’s smile only seems to widen. “And if it's crazy, live a little crazy.”

“You can play it sensible, a king of conventional or you can risk it all and see...” A gloved hand is outstretched, and Techno takes it out of curiosity only for Dream to quickly pull him to his feet and drag him to another side of the roof. The villain cackles with glee as the hero sputters his protests and worries while they’re still running across the edge of the building.

“Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play?” Dream finally comes to a stop and gestures at one of the big screens taking up the side of an adjacent building which is playing the news. The reporter is talking about some kind of controversy regarding the Blood God again, showing screenshots of the online forums they had seen just a few minutes ago. Techno doesn’t know if this was cleverly timed or something, but it really punctuates what the other is trying to say. “'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride! It'll take you to the other side.”

“'Cause you can do like you do, or you can do like me.” Dream points to himself, points to all his freedom and happiness, points to the absence of shackles binding him down and the lack of demons hovering over his shoulder and telling him the animosity and hostility they’ve heard ever since they came into this world. “Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key!”

“Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly. It'll take you to the other side.” The villain offers a hand for him to shake, grinning with a glint in his eyes.

The hero pushes it away, shaking his head. He finally breaks his silence with a scoff. “Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in. Well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen.”

“So thanks, but no. I think I'm good to go. 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in.” Techno steps off the edge, and starts walking towards the safer center part of the rooftop. He sighs in relief, his heart finally calming down now that he isn’t in immediate threat of falling to his death. He ignores Dream’s disappointed sigh, not surprised when footsteps quickly follow behind him.

“Now I admire you, and that whole show you do.” The hero stops in his tracks, looking back to level the villain with a fond look. He puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Techno’s proud, really, he’s more proud than could ever be expressed in words. In a way, he almost envies Dream’s passion and conviction and determination to see his goals to their very ends. In a way, he almost envies how Dream has so much he's willing to lose while he's too scared to even fathom a fate like that. “You're onto something, really it's something.”

“But I live among the swells, and we don't pick up peanut shells.” Unfortunately, Techno doesn’t have that kind of dedication. He’d much rather work with the system than against it, if only to save him the trouble and pain of fighting the current. And yet, they really are just two sides of the same coin; they have the same drive, the same motivations, the same dreams with only different ways of going about it. And since that is the case, Techno would much rather use the cards society had dealt him and leave it to Dream to fold his hand and play a different game. “I'll have to leave that up to you.”

“Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play?” Techno takes his hand off Dream’s shoulder and raises it to point towards the billboard on the rooftop they’re on. It’s a poster with the Blood God on it, along with several other heroes facing similar discrimination. It’s littered with praise, good sentiments, lists of their contributions to society, and so much more positivity. It’s an advocate towards change, an advocate for equality and the greater good. It’s the very same thing they’re both fighting for, the same open-minded point of view they’re trying to convey. It’s another coincidence that is somehow relevant to what they’re talking about, but none of them question it. “'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride. I don't need to see the other side.”

“So go and do like you do, I'm good to do like me.” Techno points to himself, points to all his glory and prowess, points to the shattered bits of the shackles binding him down and the presence of angels hovering over his shoulder and telling him the comfort and acceptance they’ve needed to hear ever since they came into this world. “Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key!”

“Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine? I don't need to see the other side.” The hero turns his back on the villain and goes towards the door of the staircase, ready to leave the premises.

The villain is quick to follow, putting his hand on the hero’s and pushing it off the doorknob. “Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays…” Dream trails off, and Techno speaks up before he spins them into another long debate again.

“If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town. Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns.” Techno barks out a humorless laugh and narrows his eyes at Dream. They’re both full aware of the general distaste of heroes for villains and vice versa, and the Blood God wouldn’t be well received in the League of Villains anyway.

“But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little...” Dream pleads, almost desperately. It’s like he thinks proximity makes him more convincing, but really it’s probably just him impassioned and trying just one more time to get the other on his side. Techno freezes in place, unsure of what to do when the other pins him to the door with no real intent to hurt him. His hands twitch at his side, wanting to do… something. Hug him? Pull him close? Push him away? Run down the stairs? He doesn’t really know at this point; he just wants to take some form of action.

“Just let me give you the freedom to dream, and it'll wake you up and cure your aching.” Of course, before hero and villain, before the mess that is society, they’re still… something. Close friends, lovers maybe, regardless it’s something unlabeled that has them knowing each other best. It’s no surprise that Dream is aware of just how hard it is for Techno, that he’s aware of the sheer pressure that is close to breaking him every single minute, that he’s aware of just how difficult it is to keep up appearances and pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s no surprise that Dream is aware that Techno’s slowly but surely deteriorating, that he’s slowly losing himself day by day to the world is so very cruel and simply hates them so. “Take your walls and start 'em breaking!”

“Now that's a deal that seems worth taking!” Oh god, when had Dream come so close? When had his hands came up to grip at Techno’s shoulders, when had his chest pressed itself flush against the other’s, when had his face hovered just one temptation away from his own? Techno feels blood rise to his cheeks, and it seems that Dream had finally realized their position in his silence because soon there’s a matching blush on his freckled skin too.

It feels almost natural, really, for their lips to close the distance and meet in between. Techno’s arms wrap around the other’s waist as he pulls him in closer, his eyelids fluttering shut just as how butterflies flutter in his stomach. The blonde tilts his head to the side, angling it so that they can kiss even deeper and dear god it suddenly feels like three years had gone by for much longer. Dream’s tongue is just as soft as it was three years ago, and Techno’s canines are just as sharp as well. When they finally pull apart, panting slightly for air, Dream whispers one last thing against Techno’s now swollen and bitten lips.

“… But I guess I'll leave that up to you.”

Chapter Text

“Why do we continue to battle, my King?”

Wooden pieces click against each other, a sound familiar to both of them after so many hours spent like this.

“It is essential. As the ruler, I need to show my prowess and excellence at every craft.”

“I say you’ve done well already. You’ve gotten so far, improved so much when just a week ago you didn’t even know how to play.”

“It’s not enough. You are the world champion at gungi, Dream, and until I defeat you I cannot rest.”

“You don’t need to be the greatest at everything. You’re already much physically stronger than I am.”

“That isn’t everything, you know. Not anymore, at least. I’ve learned there’s much more to strength than the physical aspects of it.”

“Is that so? What changed your mind, then?”

“You.” It comes without hesitation. “You’ve taught me the strength of the mind, the strength of resolve and determination.”

“You’re being silly. I doubt I’ve done that much.”

“Don’t undermine yourself. You’re the best in the world in an intellectual board game, you’ve pioneered so many of its maneuvers and techniques and done it all while blind.”

“Ah, still. I’m weak, you know? I won’t be able to hold my own in a fight.”

“That you may be.” A hand comes up to hold a gungi piece in his callused palm, and the moment is spent in thoughtful contemplation. “But so long as we fight within the bounds of your domain, you are untouchable. Just as how I am on the battlefield. The potentials of different kinds of strengths and how they may best each other… it’s something you’ve taught me that I can never forget.”

“You flatter me, my King.”

“I only say the truth, Dream.”

“Yes, yes. If you say so.”

-

“Why didn’t you ask for help!? Here, and here… You’re covered in blood!” Fingers run over tanned skin, feeling for more wounds on its surface.

“I… I’m sorry. It was so early. I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“You’re a special guest here, Dream. I can’t allow any harm to come to you until I’ve defeated you.”

“…”

“Wh… Why are you crying? Are you alright? Are there more injuries I should be aware of?”

“I’m fine. I apologize. It’s just that…” A droplet falls to the ground. “No one’s ever been so kind to me. You’re the first one. Thank you.”

“I don’t think you should thank me.” A heartbeat of nothingness, then a silent admission comes in a whisper. “I’m not the kind of person who deserves that.”

“Nonsense. Everyone deserves to be thanked when they’ve done something nice, yes?”

“I wouldn’t call this nice. I just said I’m only keeping you alive to eventually defeat you.”

“And yet you’re freaking out over nonlethal injuries?”

“… I wouldn’t allow any harm to come to you lest it endanger your ability to play.”

“So long as I still have my sense of mind, my King, I assure you that I’ll be able to play.”

“You are a stubborn fool.”

“Well, it’s what has gotten me this far, after all. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t so persistent against all odds.”

“… That is true.” A hand reaching out to grab at a wrist, tugging slightly. “Come with me. We need to get you patched up.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

-

“You’re smarter than you look, Dream.”

“Ah… is that supposed to be a compliment, my King?” Lips curl into a smile. “I’ll take it, thank you.”

“You’re smarter than you look.” He continues regardless. “I doubt you’re daft enough to not hear of the whispers and rumors circulating around the castle.”

“Well, that is…”

“You know I am a terrible king, Dream. You know I am merciless and unjust and cruel.” Crimson eyes bore into milky emerald ones. “Why do you insist on being amicable?”

“You’re not your title.” Small hands reach out blindly, barely avoiding hitting the other square in the face. “You’re you. And the you I’ve known is nothing like what the rumors say. You’re not so one-dimensional.”

“…”

“You are like a game of gungi. Thousands of patterns, layers of complexity, and so much to love. There’s so much for me to learn, so much for me to decipher, so much for me to hold dear.” Thumbs gently rub at reddening cheeks. “You’re not a good person, but it doesn’t mean you’re an entirely bad one either. You’ve treated me well and I will do the same to you, my King.”

“…”

“My King? Are you alright?”

“… Techno.”

“What?”

“T… Techno.” A hand comes up to brush at flaxen locks, and a face leans into the touch. “My name. Call me that if you are to separate me from my title.”

“Ah…”

“Dream?” A sharp inhale, a tentative breath taken hitches in his throat. “Would you like to continue playing?”

“Yes, yes. Of course, Techno.”

Matching smiles shine brighter than moonlight evanescent.

-

“What’s wrong? Why do you cry?”

“Am I… am I allowed? To be so happy?”

“…”

“Can so many wonderful things happen to someone like me?”

“I’m hardly wonderful, Dream.”

“That’s not true. You’ve done more for me than anyone ever could.”

“You deserve better. You deserve someone better, someone that isn’t me.”

“You’re already the best! Nothing will ever change the fact that you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

“…”

“I don’t… I couldn’t care less about who you are, or what you’ve done, or… or… Whatever! I just know that to me, you’re no Blood God or tyrannical king or ruthless murderer... You’re Techno, and the Techno I know is the one that saves me from danger and nurses me back to health and keeps me company and… T… Techno? You haven’t said a word in a while… Are you still there?”

“… I suppose I should tell you the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I… have been poisoned, and I have little time. The assassins have gotten to me.”

“Techno…” A small, disbelieving gasp fills the tense air.

“Dream, I wanted… to spend my final moments playing against you.”

“…”

“But this poison is contagious. If you stay near me too long, you will also…”

Words trail off, and yet a smile only graces one’s face.

“1-5-1, king.”

“What are you…?”

“That’s checkmate, Techno.”

“You…” A tear slips down unwillingly, staining the wooden board with liquid gratitude. “You countered my reversal?”

“Indeed I did. That reversal is my technique in the first place, I would be a fool not to know its weakness." A giggle echoes off the walls of the room, and just like that the light is back in his life. "Shall we play another round?”

“… yes. If you say so, Dream.”

-

“4-4-1, pawn.”

“6-5-1, knight.”

“2-7-2, new spy. Dream, are you still there?”

“Yes, I sure am. I’m not going anywhere. 4-5-1, lieutenant general.”

“That’s checkmate.” Pieces click as they are moved around, and the board is reset. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes… Right here. Let’s play another match. The loser goes first.”

“Dream…”

“Yes, yes? What is it?”

“It appears I never defeated you a single time.” A watery chuckle, but not one entirely bitter.

“What are you saying? We’ve just gotten started.”

“… That’s right. 1-5-1, marshal.”

“9-5-1, marshal.”

“Dream, are you still there?”

“Yes, of course. It’s your turn, Techno.”

“I’m a little tired… I need to take a short nap. Will… you hold my hand?”

“…”

“Dream? Dream, are you there?”

Silence greets him. Frantically reaching out in the dark, he finds respite in the pair of hands that clasp over his own. They calm down, heartbeats slowing down together to beat as one.

“I can hear you. I understand. Like this?” A gentle squeeze shoots warmth up from his fingertips to his core then his entire being.

“Yeah… I’ll wake up shortly. Will you stay by my side until then?”

“I’ve never left your side, and this time will be no different. I’ll always be here.”

"Dream..."

“Yes, yes? What is it?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Will you call me…”

“Yes?”

“… by my name… one last time?”

“Good night, Techno…”

“…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be joining you soon.”

Chapter Text

Dream is no fool, really. He isn’t sure when it started, but he knows Techno doesn’t love him anymore.

It would be more surprising if he didn’t notice it. In hindsight, it really is glaringly obvious especially to someone as observant as him. It only got worse when he finally figured out what was going on, when every little sign had been painted over with the scarlets of danger in a way that was impossible to ignore. It feels like a match had lit ages ago and he only remembered it when all that was left of everything were a bunch of ashes crumbling in his palms. It feels like something he’s always known deep down, like a truth that’s had time to simmer in the back of his mind until it was too late to realize that he’s already burning. He’s quite possibly the first and only person to know of this, though with how things are going, other people will eventually catch on if Techno isn’t careful.

Ah, it's really troublesome

A world of warped reality

And he’s fine with it. Dream doesn’t particularly care about who Techno has in his heart, so long as it doesn’t affect their relationship at all. Or, rather, the remnants of it at the very least. Whatever it is between them, whether it be infatuation or lust or attachment, so long as it isn’t severed then everything will be okay eventually. This isn’t him in denial or petulant refusal, it’s just how he is. Some might say otherwise, might accuse him of hiding his feelings and bottling up his jealousy and despair, but he thinks he knows himself much better than anyone else ever will. He thinks he understands his own wants and needs much better than anyone else ever will, especially when they’re so unorthodox in the first place. He’s perfectly fine with his place in Techno’s life, with the comfort of physical affection and the throes of carnal ecstasy even when they lie of love and passion. He’s perfectly fine with how Techno isn’t his, with how he looks faraway into the distance like he’s longing for something, for someone else.

With my slender finger on your large back

You don't have to become mine

It doesn’t change anything, or at least that’s what Dream tells himself. Techno’s callused hand is still in his, though he squeezes just a little more as if to pretend that Dream’s fingers are less slender and small. Techno’s gaze is still fixated on him, though he glances away every so often as if to look for someone that isn’t there. Techno’s sentiments are still as sweet as ever, though he words them vague and ambiguous as if to address someone that isn’t Dream. There is some change, slow and gradual and borderline imperceptible but it’s still very much there. The bridge between them is slowly deteriorating, the wood slowly decaying and the ropes turning to dust. It’s something inevitable, something sure to come sooner or later. Even then, Dream doesn’t mind at all. Not anymore, at least.

Lust? Envy? That can't be right

I won't be like that child

He doesn’t know if he loves Techno too much or not enough for him to be so indifferent to this turn of events. Perhaps he has an attachment and he’s not ready to let go yet, or he’s never had one in the first place and that’s why he isn’t fazed when the string between them is on the verge of snapping. Maybe his heart is too fond for Techno and that’s why he’s deluding himself into thinking this is alright, or it was never with him in the first place so he doesn’t feel anything when he inevitably leaves. There’s a possibility that intangible things just don’t hold as much weight to him as the tangible ones do, and that’s why he doesn’t care as long as the physical parts of their relationship are still there. He doesn’t know where he stands when it comes to this, he only really knows that he doesn’t entirely care what the ending is.

I understand those types of things

So don't look at me like that!

Dream supposes he’s been like this from the beginning. His emotions have always been muted, just barely there to remind him that he isn’t some unfeeling monster. He doesn’t form bonds or friendships the same way everyone else does, and he can’t say that he loves people beyond lip service for the sake of normalcy. If he had the courage to admit it out loud, he would say that he only really dated Techno in the first place because he’s a decent person and he doesn’t think anything bad could come out of it. In a way, he was right in his decision. Techno had been nothing but kind to him, and the physical affection was always comforting to him anyway. Their time together had never been too strained or unhealthy, and in a way they both helped each other grow to be better people. He would even say that Techno had found his way into his heart one way or another, if simply as someone to protect and take care of. It may be nowhere near the concept of romantic love that people seem to be so intrigued with, but it was definitely some kind of fondness.

Well, he can’t exactly call Techno out for not loving him anymore when he himself is not entirely sure if he’s loved him in the first place.  

I don't need anything like love, I can't stand it

Keep untying it as much as you need to

So when Techno pulls Dream into his lap that night, he doesn’t say a word. When Techno’s hot breath against Dream’s ear reeks of sweet nothings and the telltale aroma of alcohol, he simply listens. When Techno stumbles on his words drunkenly and ends up spilling compliments that don’t even apply to him, he smiles and thanks him as if they’re nothing different. When Techno’s hands on Dream’s waist ends up a little too high and he has to correct his grip, he squirms a little to help him. He’s fine with this, he tells himself.

Close your eyes and stop your breath

Even if it's someone else's dream, keep dreaming it

So when Techno cups Dream’s cheek and speaks of the beautiful amber eyes that he knows he doesn’t have, he doesn’t say a word. When Techno runs his fingers through Dream’s flaxen hair and calls them a wonderful shade of dark brown, he just leans into the touch. When Techno pulls Dream close and kisses gently at the freckles on his cheeks thinking they’re part of a long scar he’s never gotten, he just giggles breathlessly and lets him. When Techno closes the distance between them and nips at Dream’s lips expecting them to be plumper than they actually are, he just whines and lets himself be pushed down onto the soft mattress. This is all that he needs, he says to himself.

Go ahead and dwell on your loneliness

You’ve turned away but I won’t blame you

So when Techno whispers a name that isn’t Dream’s against his lips, he doesn’t say a word. He just closes his eyes and wraps his arms around his lover and lets himself play pretend as well.

Touch me more, fool me completely

Never wake up from this dream again, okay?

Chapter Text

Techno hadn’t always been this cold and calculated.

There was a time, long ago, when he was just fresh out of the hospital after years of being bedridden. There was a time when his long pink hair was tied up in a meticulous braid, when square thick-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. There was a time when he stumbled over his two feet constantly, clumsy and weak from misuse. There was a time when he fumbled with his words every time he spoke, not entirely quite sure what to say and how to word it. There was a time, long ago, when he was nowhere near the person he is right now.

Of course, Dream had been the one to change all that. Dream had been the one to pull him in by the arm, to take him out of his shell and encourage him along the way. Dream had been the one to smile at him kindly and be patient with him as he tries to figure things out. Dream had been the one to raise his spirits and show him that he was worth something. Dream had been his first friend, his beloved companion, his light in the darkness.

Dream had also been the one to save his life. Dream had been the one to come swooping in, axe in hand as he slashes down the strange creatures that had been chasing him.

Later, Techno learns that he was just attacked by a witch. Dream is a magical, able to harness magical powers to protect those in danger. Kyubey, part of a white catlike alien race, grants one wish in exchange for the service of slaying witches that hunt and kill humans in order to feed on them. Dream is one of the magicals in charge of their city, patrolling it every night and making sure that there are no witches lurking nearby. Dream is so selfless and kind, so heroic and caring that Techno just wants to follow in his footsteps. He isn’t quite sure what to wish for yet, so he just tags along on nightly patrols because it’s never quite too early to learn about something he was sure to do anyway. Those nights spent walking alone with Dream and learning the intimacies of a world that only they seem to know are times he holds close to his heart, wishing for them to never change.

Except it doesn’t last forever. Of course, if there are strong magicals like Dream, then there have to be equally strong witches. The magicals of the city face their biggest obstacle yet, an amalgamation of dozens of witches known as a Walpurgisnacht. They end up as nothing but prey to its onslaught, and Techno finds himself sobbing over Dream’s dying body surrounded by the desolate wasteland of their city in ruins. By all means, it should’ve been the end for them. There was nothing left to rebuild, and the destruction was far too much to fix. Well, that’s how it would’ve gone if Kyubey wasn’t there right next to one of the last remaining survivors.

It only made sense that Techno’s wish would be to relive meeting him for the first time again, and this time he would be the one to protect him instead.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the first time.

He’s sent back in time, and doesn’t waste time in seeking Dream out in order to join him as a magical this time. Albeit his confusion, the other accepts the proposal. There’s a sense of satisfaction that courses through Techno when he can consider them to be equals. All he’s ever wanted at this point was to be able to protect Dream, to be able to repay him for all he had done for him. Now that he has the power and opportunity to do so, he basks in the happiness it brings him when he successfully saves Dream several times over. He could do this forever, really. He could go on late night patrols with Dream all the time, like a secret only for the two of them to know. It becomes like an inside joke to them, in cryptic remarks and hushed giggles and playful teasing that makes Techno want to freeze time so that the moment lasts forever.

Things are never that simple, however, because of course Walpurgisnacht brings them defeat once again.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the fourth time.

Magicals become witches. Holy shit, magicals become witches.

Kyubey rambles on and on about the energy and entropy of the universe, but by that point Techno doesn’t care anymore. He’s more focused on the fact that once they make a contract, their souls are ripped out of their bodies and become these little gems that hold their magic. He’s more focused on the fact that their soul gems darken not just from excessive use of magic, but also turbulent emotions and distress. He’s more focused on the fact that when a soul gem has grown dark enough, the grief takes them over and they become witches.

How many witches have they slain, not knowing they had once been magicals just like them? How many times had they harvested their corpses, taking grief seeds as a reward for their victories? How many times have they used grief seeds to suck the darkness out of their soul gems, without realizing that those had also been soul gems once? How many more witches will they continue to slay, in order to prevent themselves from meeting that fate as well?

The knowledge of such brings Techno such despair that nearly leads him to becoming a witch himself, if not for his desire to protect Dream until the very end.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the tenth time.

“It looks like it’s over for both of us.” Dream laughs humorlessly beside him, staring up at the smoke-covered sky.

“Do you have any grief seeds?” Techno asks weakly, just barely able to see Dream shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “I see.”

Techno never did get to tell the other magicals about the truth of witches. No, he never needed to in the first place. They had all seen it themselves, when another magical by the name of Wilbur had left his darkened soul gem untreated which led to him transforming into a witch right in front of them. His soul gem was dark for a reason, having depleted too much of his magic fighting witches with them. They were just fresh out of a tough fight, and they never stood a chance against a newly born and bloodthirsty witch. Techno and Dream had ended up as the only survivors, and yet they were forced to face the Walpurgisnacht anyway because it was inevitable. Of course, they lost.

“Don’t you just want to become monsters, and destroy everything in the world?” Techno mutters bitterly, his anger having festered in him for long enough. “Don’t you just want us to succumb to our fates, to become witches and fall into the arms of the eternal darkness that welcomes us so kindly?”

Dream doesn’t say anything, simply looking at him sadly. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel shameful, not when he’s finally ready to admit how he scorns the world like so. He rambles, on and on until his every breath feels like it’s going to be his last.

“We’ll destroy, and destroy and destroy everything until it’s all gone.” He chokes out. “No more good things, but no more bad things either. No happiness, no sadness, nothing. Leave nothing left so that we won’t get hurt anymore. Don’t you think that sounds nice?”

“I’m sorry, I lied.” Dream’s words come in a whisper, and he turns to face him but it’s too late. A grief seed is already being pushed onto Techno’s crimson soul gem, and he can only stare in silent horror at how the darkness is being sucked away to make way for the light as Dream smiles softly. “I have Wilbur’s grief seed. I couldn’t just… leave him there. Not even after all that. It’s still him, you know?”

“You can’t…” Techno feels a rush of energy surge into his body, and the first thing he does with it is sit up so he can pull Dream’s limp body close to him and look at him in the eye. “Why did you give it to me? Why, Dream, why? You know I would’ve wanted you to take it! I would’ve wanted you to live, over me! You’re far more important!”

“Because I wanted to ask you to do something I can’t.” Dream shushes him, bringing up his hand to cup at Techno’s cheek and rub circles onto the flushed skin with his thumb. “You’ve said you can go back to the past, right, Techno? You’ve said you can change history so that this all won’t have happened, right?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, that’s the plan. That has always been his plan.

“Could you save my stupid self…” Dream’s voice breaks. “… before I get tricked by Kyubey?”

“I promise.” Techno says, resolute. It’s a promise he doesn’t intend to break, not now, not ever. “I’ll definitely save you. No matter how many times I have to repeat all of this, I’ll protect you.”

“I’m glad…” Dream trails off before suddenly shrieking and squirming like he’s in pain, and his now dull emerald soul gem pulses angrily with inky swirls of despair. Techno doesn’t know what to do. Even now, with his magic at top capacity, he’s still so helpless. He still can’t protect Dream.

“Could I… ask you for one more thing?” Dream croaks out, barely audible. But Techno always listens, always pays attention to him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. It’s cowardly, I know.”

“It’s not.” A tear slips out of Techno’s eye and lands on Dream’s skin. In a way, he already knows what’s being asked of him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.”

“I don’t want to become a witch. A lot of horrible things have happened, but there are still so many things in this world I hold dear to me.” Dream holds out his other palm, presenting to Techno his pitifully cloudy soul gem. There are tears running down his cheeks too, but he still smiles so brightly. “So, please…”

Techno sobs out loud as he brings his blade down on Dream’s soul gem, shattering it to pieces.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the fifteenth time.

His eyes fly open, looking around wildly to find that he’s in his hospital bed. He needs to take this more seriously. He doesn’t want to be bothered with glasses, so he ditches them and uses magic on his eyes to heal his vision. He doesn’t have time to waste, so he just leaves his hair down instead of braiding it. That would’ve been a few extra minutes wasted, and he needs those minutes to destroy all the witches in the area so that Dream wouldn’t have the reason to make a contract out of necessity.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the twenty-seventh time.

It takes ages for him to become strong enough to take down the witches by himself, but of course Walpurgisnacht is a whole different breed. He barely even lasts a minute before he’s slammed into the side of a building to render him immobile, just barely conscious enough to use his magic to turn back time. He has to try again.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the thirty-ninth time.

He lasts a little longer in the final battle this time, though it’s not even enough to do more than slightly dent the Walpurgisnacht. He needs much stronger weapons, much faster reflexes, much better aim. He survives just a bit longer each time, but he can tell it’ll still be a long way to go until he even stands a decent chance.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the fifty-second time.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s relived these same six weeks. The timelines are all blurring together in his head, the only thing keeping them constant is the desire to protect Dream and the need to take down all the witches before he stumbles upon them.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the sixty-fourth time.

He goes after Kyubey. After all, he’s the root of the problem, isn’t he? But then again, there’s an entire species of them out there, and if he leaves Dream alone for even a few minutes there’s the chance he’ll get approached for a contract. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the seventy-eighth time.

He notices he starts to care less and less about the other magicals in the area. Whatever. As long as Dream’s safe, then they don’t matter. He’ll do anything to protect him, even at the expense of others.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the eighty-sixth time.

He’s tried being nice. Dream won’t listen, still wanting to be able to help one way or another. It’s something Techno both loves and loathes, because it’s what got them here and it’s what’s keeping them here. He has to resort to more drastic measures.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the ninety-third time.

He’s cold and harsh to Dream now, to the point where the other flinches at him and runs away to avoid him. Techno ignores the pang of hurt in his heart. Anything to keep Dream safe, even this.

Tick, tock, turn the cogs for the hundredth time.

Nothing he does ever works.

Techno watches on sadly as Dream makes his wish once again, except this time it’s to finally end things. Failure is such a familiar taste on the tip of his tongue, and he can’t help but be bitter about it. There’s nothing else he can do. All those years of time loops, all that pain and suffering he had endured, and all those times he had watched Dream die right in front of his very times were all pointless. Everything he had done, up to this point… it was all for naught. There was no going back this time.

‘I wish to eliminate all witches before they are born.’ Dream had said. ‘In the past, present, and future. Under my own power, I will take the burden of the world’s despair.’

For him to accomplish that, he had to ascend to a higher state of being. He ceased to exist, and became nothing more than a mere concept. A corporeal being… or a god, as some would say. It makes sense. A human, or a magical even, wouldn’t have been able to take on all the despair of the world constantly. Dream was now simply a law of the universe. It’s something so utterly selfless that Techno can’t bring himself to scorn it. He can’t find it in himself to defile Dream’s wish, to go against that sacrifice even though his own desires have been ruthlessly trampled in the process.

At least, not for long.

The devil loved god, and god loved the world. God sacrificed himself to save the world, but the devil sacrificed the world to save god.

Chapter Text

“On the stage that overflows with stardust, a magnificent flower of love shall bloom!”

The switches are flicked on, and the show begins. The stage is set, and beams of light dance on the pale yellow cobblestone imitation that makes up the floor. A man stands at the foot of an obsidian tower, clad in a deep green military jacket and dark brown pants disappearing into black combat boots. A hand with fingerless gloves come up to secure the clasps of his porcelain smiley face mask, and he wields a dark axe with a surprisingly thick blade end.

“Student of the 99th cohort, Dream!” He swings his weapon, and it roughly cuts through the smoke beginning to surround him. He puffs his chest out, bellowing his declaration with all his might. “You will all gaze upon my Starlight!”

“The glow of the moon and the love of the stars…” A deep voice rumbles from above, and the spotlights follow it. Dream’s emerald gaze does the same, and his eyes widen as he catches sight of pink hair jostled by gentle zephyrs and a flowing velvet crimson cape.

“The brilliance of the heavens… I shall gather it all to deliver that glory to your heart.” The man continues as he descends from the sky on a platform depicting flowing lava, and he jumps down onto his own stage with all the grace and elegance in the world. He adjusts the boar skull mask perched on the upper half of his face, hiding his crimson eyes behind the hollow eye sockets. A golden glow is cast upon him and the maroon bricks of his towering fortress, and he puts a hand on his weapon’s hilt as he walks slowly near the open edge right above Dream.

“Student of the 99th cohort, Technoblade.” He unsheathes his sword and raises it, the blue metal glinting in the stage lights. A smirk makes its way to his face, showing off his canines as sharp as his blade. “I bring my radiance to you tonight!”

“Techno…!” Dream gasps and smiles, before he comes to a realization. He steels his expression even though no one can see it behind the mask, and his grip on his weapon tightens. He doesn’t think he’s quite ready for this, not yet. He’s not sure if he can do this.

“Well then, we will now begin the third day of the audition…” The host announces loudly to an empty stadium, to rows of seats occupied by nothing but air. There’s no one to witness their battle, no one to gaze upon their performance. “For this Revue of Pride.”

The lights dim and the hum of machinery fills the silence as the stage pieces are being moved around and the actors are repositioned. Piano notes drift throughout the space as a single torch is suddenly lit ablaze right in the middle of them, just barely illuminating their faces. Dream and Techno stand across each other on the level battlefields made of grass, and both of them raise their weapons in front of closed eyes.

“I should be able to see...” Dream starts the song, his voice gentle and hopeful.

“No, you should not see…” Techno chimes in, his tone firm and resolute.

“The view from the top of that tower…” They both sing in tandem, walking forward in sync and reaching out their hands only to pass each other and switch positions. As they drag on the final note, anticipation builds for their nonexistent audience. A beat is spared, and a breath is taken.

“What lies in your heart?” Dream strikes first, turning around swiftly to swing his axe only for it to meet Techno’s vigilant blade. He keeps going forward, never relenting. “What do your twinkling eyes seek?”

“I still can't reach that star…” Dream keeps up with his lines, backing Techno into a corner and yet he cannot make him yield. The other strikes back with equal fervor, pushing him back until they both stand at the center again. “But for the sake of that promise, I'll keep on charging ahead!”

“Dream.” Techno interrupts, never moving his blade to attack even as Dream pushes against their locked weapons insistently. He clearly has questions, but Dream doesn’t know if he wants to answer them. “What brings you to this Revue?”

“Why?” He parrots, almost incredulously. “Why else but to become a star, to shine as how you have and stand beside you as an equal!”

“Equal?” Techno asks in a whisper. “Don’t make me laugh. ‘Pluck only a tiny star, and you will obtain but a tiny measure of happiness. Pluck a great star, and you will reap a reward equally as great.’”

“Those lines… they’re from Starlight!” Of course Dream recognizes it. It’s the play they do every year in their festival, the play that had inspired him to become a stage actor in the first place. It’s the play where he wants to be the Flora to Techno’s Claire, where he wants to be the lead role alongside him. Why Techno is quoting it now is beyond him, but it is a play and it belongs here on the stage.

“It is an exchange…” The other seethes, accusatory. “And what have you offered?”

Dream cries out as Techno grazes his shoulder in the midst of a strong strike. The blade carries on in an arc that he barely dodges, and the torch’s flame takes death in his place. Techno’s sword extinguished their only light, and they’re bathed in darkness once again as the stage is readjusted. Dream looks around him blindly, trying to navigate around the moving platforms. Suddenly, a path of lights begins to turn on and he looks up to where it’s leading.

“The call of the goddesses, the heavenly throne…” Techno sings out on top of his fortress as the stage moves around him to make a staircase leading to the bottom. Red smoke fizzes out from behind him as spotlights find him once again. “The star soaring down is but one.”

“Come climb up here, if you have the resolve.” He taunts, and Dream grits his teeth as he assesses the environment quickly.

“Try to tear me down, show me your fury!” Dream quickly runs up the staircases at the side while Techno continues belting out his lines.

“Do not be at the mercy of the beast that lies within you.” Techno meets Dream in the middle, effortlessly parrying his offense. Their weapons clash, sparks flying through the air as they partake in the dance of blades. It’s one that they’re familiar with, one that they’ve done countless of times before in practice but never quite in the actual auditions.

“I have no need for those who lack willpower.” Techno’s strength is unyielding, and it shows in how he pushes Dream so far back that he trips on his feet and falls down. “I want you to show you are fighting with your pride on the line!”

Dream lands slightly painfully on the bottom steps, and he’s about to run back up when the ground shakes from under his feet and the staircases separate from the main body. The platforms are moving again, and Dream tries to run along them to get to Techno. He doesn’t even notice he hasn’t spoken in a while, too focused on the Revue.

“On the stage, there is a place for only one star.” Techno speaks up, but Dream only half listens to his words. He’s trying to end the fight now, to close the distance between them while he still has the stamina and the drive to do so. “Seek it, starve for it, thirst for it, struggle for and seize it.”

“Tell me, Dream.” Techno turns to face him, looking down on him from his pedestal up above. “Do you know that our rivalry is one-sided?”

“What…?” Dream falters in his steps. “But we’re…?”

“The two best in the class, yes. But my opponent is not you.” Techno turns his back on him, and Dream pauses in place. He doesn’t want an unworthy victory, doesn’t want to take his foe down when he’s defenseless. Even the platforms cease their incessant movement, like they’re waiting to hear what he’s going to say. “My goal is not you. My goal is to become the top star, to shine the brightest on this stage. My goal is to surpass all adversaries and go beyond expectations.”

“If your goal is me, then you will get nowhere.” The other continues, and he finds himself listening. His words are earnest and sincere, with none of the flair of an actor or the jubilance of a façade. “Your blade is dull and your steps are shadows, your gaze is low and your dance is stiff. Aim for the stars, Dream, and show me the true extent of your light!”

“But you are a star!” Dream chokes out, cheeks burning ever so slightly at the admission. Even Techno quiets down, and though he can’t see his expression, Dream can tell he’s contemplative. “You are a star, and I promised to myself to tear you down from the heavens. I promised to myself to take your spot and see what it’s like to shine like so.”

“Then let that be as far as you wish.” Techno mutters, barely audible. Dream strains to hear him, wanting to take all his words into his hands and tuck them away in his chest. “The star you grasp for…”

“He offered everything. He cut everything away.” The platforms are moving once again, but this time they’re in Dream’s favor. They rearrange themselves to form a single grand staircase leading up to Techno. “He possessed it: the noble determination to challenge a star!”

“Yes. That is why I will…” Techno turns to face him again, raising his sword as he takes a deep and audible breath.

“Ever higher, ever more glorious…” The steps all light up one by one, leading up to Techno. Flames erupt from behind him, like igniting the blaze of his passion. He belts out the notes, somehow even more powerful than Dream has ever heard him sound before. “I will illuminate the horizon!”

“A single step forward is a step closer to my dream.” Techno jumps down onto him, and Dream barely meets his incoming attack in time. His knees bend and buckle as he struggles to push the other off, but even as when he succeeds, Techno just comes back. “For that is pride!”

They circle around each other, jumping up and down stairs to make their move. Dream parries more than he jabs, struggling to keep his breath steady and his mind levelheaded. When he stumbles forward, Techno catches him in his arms for a moment that feels like forever. The other’s hand comes up to graze at the exposed area of his cheeks on the side of his mask, fingers tangling into his flaxen hair gently. Dream freezes in place as Techno leans in a little, his hot breath palpable on the porcelain surface. He closes his eyes in anticipation only to snap them open once again as he feels himself fall, having been pushed away when his guard was let down.

“Going higher, shining brighter towards unreachable heights…” Techno runs along the railings, weapon poised and arms outstretched for one final strike. He jumps after Dream and gravity brings them together once again. “For that is my pride!”

A resounding crack echoes throughout the stage as Dream’s mask is sliced in half through the middle and falls to the floor to break into a thousand tiny pieces. Cracked, shattering, fragmented like the splintering ends of his hopes and dreams. He doesn’t even feel it when Techno pulls him into his chest and shields him from the impact of hitting the floor. There’s nothing left for him on this stage anymore. He’s lost.

“Position Zero.” A sword pierces the tape marking the very center of the stage, and the curtains fall as the lights dim. There is a boy with flowing pink hair standing triumphant at the center spotlight, right in front of the darkness where a boy on his knees is holding the remnants of his mask in defeat. “This is Technoblade.”

Chapter Text

You fall in love with someone, confess that love, and become a couple. You spend your days together, get to know each other more, become even closer and so on… until you eventually get married and your lives become intertwined with each other. Everyone would say that’s a wonderful thing… but they’re wrong!

Even among sweethearts, there’s a distinct power relationship! A side that obeys and a side that’s obeyed, a side that’s devoted and a side receiving devotion, a winner and a loser. If you’re trying to live a noble life, then you shouldn’t be the loser! You must take your pride and fight for it to the very end, you must hold it close to your chest and defend it from any and all attacks! Should the world burn around you, should the earth shift and the waters drown everything in their path, you must still see to it that the flickering embers of your honor and dignity will be the last ones to ever be extinguished!

Love is war, and the person who falls in love loses! Conceding your pride is a sign of weakness!

… well, at least, that’s what these two idiots think.

With a sweet kiss and one, two, three

You look away from me, it’s so unfair

Minecraft Academy! It’s a prestigious school with an ancient and honorable origin, founded as a facility to educate children of the upper class. The focus on nobility and aristocracy has died down as time passed into modernity, but many talented and smart students born into wealthy and distinguished families attend the school to shoulder the future. Naturally, in a school so full of extraordinary people, the ones who lead them are by no means to be referred to as “ordinary”!

Dream, the vice president of the student council at Minecraft Academy. His family’s total assets amount to nearly two trillion dollars. They’re one of the top four financial conglomerates in the land, with easily over a thousand subsidiaries that are all incredibly successful. Befitting his superior lineage, he’s a talented young man who has attained splendid achievements in various fields. These include but are not limited to: martial arts, sports, programming, and much more. He is a true prodigy, and the young man he supports is…

Technoblade, the president of the student council at Minecraft Academy. He’s wise and intelligent, strong and silent. A man of unparalleled wisdom and intellect, of a sharp mind and an eye for strategy and battles of wit. He constantly takes first place in national examinations, cementing his status as a genius among geniuses. In contrast to the multitalented Dream, he focuses nearly all his efforts on studying to a fearsome degree. Along with his exemplary behavior, that made him the perfect candidate to be chosen for student council president despite being relatively new to the school. He bears the weight of the solid gold aiguillette passed down through two hundred years of presidents on his shoulders!

My heart’s beginning to simmer

You’re just toying with me

“It’s Valentine’s Day, huh?” Casual conversation fills the air as does the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the only sound echoing through the student council room being Dream’s soft spoken words and the splash of hot liquid against the side of the cup he’s pouring it into.

“That it is.” Techno holds out both hands to receive the offered drink, muttering his thanks and letting the bitter notes spread through his tongue as he takes a sip. It leaves a pleasant, numbing burn in his mouth that keeps him more alert in doing his work.

“People have been buying a lot of chocolate lately, and some are even put in special boxes.” Dream sits across the table, carefully taking half the stack of papers that Techno is going through so that he can help. He takes a sip from his own cup of coffee before he continues making small talk. “I was wondering what it’s about, so I went ahead bought a few.”

“Well, it’s just a cultural thing. Valentine’s Day is that kind of day, after all.” Techno barely looks up from his work, eyes scanning the reports he’s been handed and taking note of the overall status of the school. “Do you not know about this?”

Dream gives a nervous laugh and his fingers fiddle with each other from beyond the other’s view. “Well, you know how it is. It’s just me being sheltered and all. I never really got to learn about it that much.”

“That’s quite alright.” Techno gives him a small reassuring smile.

“Oh yeah, come to think of it, I bought a box with me to school today.” Dream exclaims then promptly gets up to go to his back and rummage around it. He visibly perks up when he finds the heart-shaped box, fingers curling around it gingerly so as not to damage it. “President, if you’d like, you can have−”

I shouldn’t go after you

I know, but I can’t help it

Dream pales and freezes in place as he reads what’s written on the little tag attached to it that he’s never quite gotten around to removing. He curses his family lineage not for the first time, as his ignorance regarding commoner topics has proved to his detriment once again. Give this to someone you love! The offending little piece of paper says. The best chocolates to gift your special someone on the fateful day of love! That… that sounds like…

Like a confession! Like he’s admitting defeat!

He’s the heir to a large financial powerhouse, and so he’s forced to plan on the spot as he’s faced with a turn of events he didn’t see coming due to his limited knowledge on the workings of the world outside his own. But because he’s the heir to a large financial powerhouse, his pride wouldn’t allow him to be the one to confess. He can’t show weakness, not when both his and his family’s reputations are on the line. Even when both he and Techno are so very clearly in love with each other, there’s no way he’ll be the one to crack and give in first.

“What were you saying, vice president? I got quite distracted there.”

Once I take one step forward, there’s no going back

Casting off my mask

That’s a lie. This young man has been watching Dream’s mannerisms closely ever since he got up from his chair. When he peeks out from the top of the paper he’s holding, he can clearly tell when the other has found what he’s looking for. He hides a smile under the guise of a cough, lying in wait with teeth bared like a predator that had finally caught its prey.

Techno was the one who planted that idea into Dream’s brain in the first place, after all. Casually mentioning the day in relation to chocolates in the weeks leading up to it, pulling a few favors to have other people whisper about it in the hallways, asking his brother Wilbur to go through the convoluted plan of making his club sell boxes of chocolates and just to advertise it with an original song that would be played at least once every single day… He had intended for the notion of buying Valentine’s chocolates to worm its way into Dream’s mind, and knowing his generous nature, he was sure to offer some to Techno before being entirely sure about the real meaning behind the gesture on this specific day.

And Dream had fallen directly into the trap! Techno had him reeled in, hook, line and sinker. He had planned meticulously for this opportunity, carrying out everything weeks in advance so that his opponent would have never been able to see his attack coming. It was excessive, but necessary for someone so observant like Dream. But he was never one to back down, never one to lose so easily. He wouldn’t be caught dead in defeat if he had anything to do about it. There’s a reason this war has been ongoing for such a long time, you know.

“As I was saying.” Dream composes himself for a moment before finally taking the box out of his bag and walking back to his seat. He puts it down on the table in between them, emerald eyes glinting in the sunlight from the window as he makes direct eye contact with Techno to show his resolve. “You can have some, if you’d like.”

And so it begins. The sophisticated romantic battle of the brains, with the pride of these two geniuses on the line!

A naughty word turns this game into something serious

Dream had no choice but to act nonchalant. The choice is clear: he just had to smooth it over. He needs to play with the cards he was given rather than fold and throw the entire game. He couldn’t run from the situation, as he was likely to get flustered while thinking up an elaborate story to get out of the rut. And if that were to happen…

“W-well, I forgot it at home, so…” Dream would fiddle with his fingers, looking down at the floor and refusing to meet Techno’s eyes.

“Is that so?” Techno would ask, stepping forwards and caging Dream in by pinning him to the wall. He would speak in a low, almost mocking tone that would make his heart skip a beat or two. “You looked so excited, there was no way you just forgot about it. In fact, I would say you wanted to give it to me but chickened out at the last moment. Is that how it is?”

“I… Th-that is… Uhm…” Dream would squeak it out, stumbling over his words as he scrambles to find an excuse while half of his mind is on their apparent proximity. A hand would come up to tilt his jaw upwards, forcing his burning face to be shown to a crimson gaze.

“Oh, vice president, I’ve never seen you this flustered before.” Techno would smirk, sharp canines showing and a tongue peeking out to lick over his own dry lips. “It’s cute.”

And that was simply unacceptable! There’s no escape route on the path that Dream conquers! Techno would be the one to cave in, would be the one to make a run for it. He has to be!

Daddy, daddy, do

I want your everything

Techno’s eyes narrow as he sits in contemplation. After indicating the intent to give it to him, Dream had assigned him the choice of whether he take the gift or not. Well played. He had left it all up to him to make the decision, therefore not having to think of what to do and only having to respond to it. Techno was handed the reins, and he was the one to pick which direction they would be heading towards. He could choose to accept, but that would be simply admitting defeat. He could choose to refuse, but then all of his preliminary arrangements up until now would be meaningless. Besides…

He really wanted to be given those chocolates. Not for the chocolates, but for the confession itself. He wanted Dream to say out loud that he loved him so that he could accept already.

He could be the one to confess, but that was just too much. Dream was already so unreachable, so far ahead in terms of social status and proficiency and eloquence and everything. Techno only has his intellect and his few hobbies, he has nothing to offer Dream when he declares his love. As such, he had to make sure Dream was also interested in him and willing enough to take the loss and confess first. It would help reassure him, at least, that his feelings were returned and not just accepted out of pity.

If you deceive me, that’s okay

Make me shiver more

This battle of thoughts seemed to be like a chess problem, like a complicated system of strategies laid out that they both have to work around. It’s nothing unfamiliar, and the more they do this, the more they get to know what makes the other person tick. Techno cornered Dream, who searched for a way out in order to turn it around. The brains of these two prodigies raced two steps ahead, clashing viciously with each other as wheels turned faster than any ordinary mind! Dream strengthened his defense, while Techno tried to break through! They both constructed their own theories leading to an ideal conclusion, and the one who accomplished the plan first would be the winner!

Charm me, and only me

What lies behind that smile?

“Oh, sweet, you guys got chocolate? Let me try!”

Both Dream and Techno gawk as their secretary shamelessly walks up to them and opens up the box to take a piece out and pop it into his mouth. Tommy gives a pleased hum as the chocolate melts on his tongue, unaware of the storm brewing within the other two occupants of the room. Techno looks about seconds away from murdering his own brother, and Dream looks like he’s going to let him do it as well. Familial bonds and close friendships be damned; this boy was no more than cattle that assumed human form, than a prideless parasite who lives by feeding off others, than a simpleton whose nutrients never makes their way to his head, than a repulsive creature.

“That was fucking pog! Hey, Blade, Big D, you doing alright? You’re looking a little constipated there.” Tommy looks confused and oh so oblivious to Techno’s murderous aura and Dream’s glare of hatred. The wonders of ignorance have saved him once again, but there’s no telling what happens next time he pulls something like this.

Wild card theory: Plans are never absolute. There’s always the threat of outside interference, of singular points of chaos waiting to tangle up the strings so carefully laid out. In this case, a wild card is an entity so full of unpredictability that you won’t be able to see it coming nor will you be able to foresee how it affects the situation at hand. In this case, the entity is Tommy, and he has just completely shattered all pre-established factors with a careless interruption. He is the sudden snowstorm that plagues the desolate wastelands of battlefields, forcing both sides to retreat lest they be caught up in nature’s wrath.

Result of today’s battle: Tommy’s victory, as he got free chocolate.

Embraced by love, I want to burn bright

Chapter Text

Fate could be an interesting thing, Techno decided. He’s not quite sure if he believes in it, with just how broad the concept is. It gives him rather… mixed feelings. The notion of a predefined destiny isn’t as pleasant as it sounds, but at the same time there’s something so pleasing about calling it “meant to be”. Fate is the sentiment that your life is planned out for you before you even begin to live it, it’s the cruel inevitability of where you end up and yet the warm reassurance that there will always be something waiting at the end of the line for you. It is the sentiment that the universe has a plan for you, it’s the way you’re controlled by puppet strings held in corporeal hands and yet the simple joy of letting them take you wherever.

He’s not quite sure if he believes in it, but Dream had always been an exception, after all.

I’m sure it’ll be hard to believe everything I say from now on

But ever since the day I met you, strange things kept happening

Techno remembers towering wooden mansions and the grandeur of extravagant ballrooms, remembers elegant outfits and expensive alcohol. He remembers ruling empires of ice and lands unknown. He remembers the way another hand squeezes his own as he pulls it towards the dance floor, remembers the way messy flaxen bangs frame a freckled face in a dip that leaves them both dangling precariously over the floor for a few tense moments. He remembers the way all that is crimson had enamored him so, remembers the way he handed a sharpened dagger to an emerald-eyed butler and demanded for more scarlets and carmines to paint the dark walls.

Whenever I had sad thoughts, you kept sighing

When I walked next to you, my shoelaces kept getting untied

Techno remembers distant childhoods spent running through fields that he had never seen before, remembers quaint villages and quiet nights surrounded by nature. He remembers the beauty of art and writing and the promise of a journey. He remembers the way dark ink stains parchments to be immortalized in leather bounds and bindings, remembers the way words on paper create pictures as vivid as colorful paintings. He remembers the way golds and silvers trace a familiar face exactly how his own fingers want to, remembers the way the constellations pale in comparison to that who is sitting right in front of him on the canoe ride under the night sky.

Did we lose our memories?

In our past or in our future or maybe a different world?

Techno remembers the crimson rivers staining the earth and the Greek fire of desolate wastelands, remembers fingers tipped in gold curling around his weapon’s handle and the familiar weight of victory on his back as he descends onto the battlefields. He remembers the blessings of Olympus and the soft touch that bestows them upon him. He remembers the way viscous ichor drips down his trembling hands, remembers the way gods bleed onto blades of grass with dewdrops made of stars like the heavens weep for them. He remembers the way divinity never really leaves even those that choose to be human, remembers the way it feels to be transcend the mortal plane and become equal to a god.

I don’t know if something happened

But I do know one thing

Techno remembers the clang of blades locked in a flurry of strikes and the hum of machinery as stage set pieces move around to change scenery, remembers the weight of demon’s horns and a crown on his head and the shimmer of pristine white angel’s wings in the moonlight from the windows of the throne room. He remembers the allure of the stage and the thrill of secrecy. He remembers the way two voices echo throughout the empty stage in both song and argument, the way tears well up from behind his mask the same way another cries over the remnants of his. He remembers the way the cold barrel of a gun leaves an imprint on his left temple, remembers the way his eyes burn into his memory the sight of tanned holy skin tainted with merlot bites of a forbidden love.

You’re gonna love me, I’m gonna become your everything

You’ll know once a little time passes, you’re gonna, you’re gonna, yeah

Techno remembers the simplicity of school life and the giddy sensation of puppy love, remembers the pouring rain bringing two hearts together and the preservation of pride that was so very important to him. He remembers humble households and sleepless nights spent studying endlessly. He remembers the way raindrops splash into puddles on sidewalks and dampen his exposed right size, remembers the way a shiver that runs up his spine not at the cold air but at the proximity of sharing a single umbrella. He remembers the way he plans meticulously over the course of several months just to get what he wants, remembers the way he’s thwarted every time in a thrilling battle of the wits as they both try to coerce confessions out of each other in the solitude of the student council room.

Love me, we must we must we must love

You’re gonna love me, we must we must we must love

Techno remembers, and remembers, and remembers and it doesn’t stop coming. He closes his eyes for the night to escape the present and yet he’s only confronted with his past and future and everything in between. Those memories aren’t his, not from this timeline at least. Those memories aren’t his, they aren’t from him but instead different versions of him through several instances of space and time. Those memories aren’t his, at least not alone when Dream is so prominent in them. Those memories aren’t just his, they’re theirs.

Techno remembers, and he knows Dream does as well. He can see it in his striking emerald eyes and in how his blade falters when they’re supposed to be fighting, he can see it in the woodland mansion map snuck into his inventory with notes of sweet nothings and in how he lets himself in on quiet winter nights to curl up into Techno’s chest.  He can see it in the way he never dares to betray him, always remaining transparent in what he wants and in all he deals they make. He can see it in the way they fall into the familiar dance of death and destruction and they burn the remnants of L’manburg to bedrock, falling into the old habits of merciless gods and ruthless murderers and a love language written in blood.

He can see it in the way he pulls Dream in for a chaste kiss at the end of the taxing battle and find himself being kissed back with equal fervor, and at that point the universe just clicks like everything is just right again.

Tell me why you're so familiar the moment our eyes met

Maybe we were enchanted and we lost our memories a long time ago

Chapter Text

The hum of chatter dies down in the audience as nothing but silence and light fills the air. A gentle glow is cast upon the expansive stage, illuminating a lone boy sitting in front of a grand piano. His pressed black suit creases ever so slightly as he straightens in his seat, chest expanding as he takes a deep, shaky breath. Soft flaxen hair both frames his face and hides it from the crowd, tucking away sharp emeralds beneath waves of gold and hooded eyelids. He lifts his hands over the instrument in anticipation, opens his mouth, and sings.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

His voice came out more stable than he had expected, smooth and soothing and full of emotions he couldn’t express in simple words. For a moment, the last syllable is all that resonates before he breaks the pause with the lull of the piano. His nimble fingers dance across the keys, playing a simple melody pleasant to the ears and warm to the heart. There’s a simple beauty in the masterful movements of his hands, in how it shows hours of practice poured into achieving perfection, in how it weaves a collection of notes so harmonious that it puts minds at ease.

Now in its place is something new

I hear it when I look at you

Dream lets his muscle memory take over as he thinks back to long ago, to how exactly he ended up in this kind of situation. He can’t help letting his thoughts run as free as the zephyrs carrying his song, because music itself is so intrinsically ingrained into his life. There’s a bittersweet note to the memories, something not quite of simple nostalgia and yet not entirely of distaste either.

He grips the handle of his suitcase even tighter, sweat pooling in his palm as he looks up to drink in the sight of the towering school buildings. Now that he’s here, he feels so out of place faced with the impressive display of grandeur in the form of pristine cream walls and lengthy glass windows standing tall and proud. He passes by the large metal gates, on the wide stone path cutting through the bountiful garden bringing a splash of color to the stark monochrome of the old architecture. Despite getting the invitation, he doesn’t feel like he belongs. He feels like he should be elsewhere, and not unsure and hunched in on himself amongst peers with perfect posture, poise and pride in their steps. He feels like he should be elsewhere, and not in his simple hoodie and pants amidst the few people around him that have pressed formal clothing without the hint of a crease on them. He feels like he should be elsewhere, and not gripping onto the worn guitar case holding the old inherited instrument when he can clearly see the shine of new, expensive models everywhere.

He didn’t feel like he belonged in an elite music school. Even now, some part of him still feels that way. Despite that, Dream doesn’t back down. He takes another deep breath and swallows down the incessant lump of self-doubt building itself in his mouth and threatening to bubble out as sentiments of regret. He’s glad he’s here, if only for one person…

With simple songs, I wanted more

Perfection is so quick to bore

The sound of the violin joins his song as seamlessly as its owner had worked his way into his heart. The notes are dragged out, tentative and hesitant but beautiful all the same. It’s like a careful approach, a plea for permission to intertwine their music at their core and bring them together. The stage is a little brighter now, as another spotlight is cast on the newcomer. The offer is accepted, and the violin trails off into a natural pause in the song. Long pink hair is rustled by a small, fleeting breeze as Techno walks up to take his place next to Dream.

You are my beautiful, by far

Our flaws are who we really are

Even the strokes of his bow against the strings are elegant and delicate, reflecting his true expertise in his craft. Every little movement is deliberate, from the way his finger slides across the neck of his instrument effortlessly to the way he sways in time to the music as if to keep himself on beat. His eyes remain closed, tucking away burning rubies into the mere flicker of a fiery ardor. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the elation that lights up his very being, he keeps it all under control. It’s a clear display of what years of training can bring you, of what planes you can ascend and what expectations you can exceed with that amount of time and dedication. It’s a clear display of Techno’s fervid passion and determination, despite how it gets buried under his façade of apathy.

I used to hear a simple song

That was until you came along

It was the guitar that brought Dream here, yes, but it ended up being the piano that brought him and Techno together. It ended up being the piano that had drawn them to the music room time and time again on lazy afternoons, it ended up being the dissonant chords of Dream’s solo practice that had urged at Techno to finally burst through the door and offer to teach him. It ended up being the piano that had truly pulled at Dream’s heartstrings like a lyre, in the soft whispers of advice in one’s ear and the electrifying touch of another’s fingers guiding one’s own through the keys and the triumphant smiles that were exchanged in the four walls of a room that they had now deemed as theirs.

You took my broken melody

And now, I hear a symphony

It ended up being Techno that coerced Dream out of his shell, that gave him bursts of confidence and countless reassurances as he tried to settle into a world that he was new to. It ended up being Techno that held his hand and intertwined their fingers, that always made sure Dream was always there and within his grasp lest he stumble once again and find himself on the ground. It ended up being Techno that found the empty space in Dream’s heart, that filled it to the brim with music and love and everything he could ever ask for and so much more.

Techno won’t ever truly know the magnitude of how much he’s done for Dream, not through words at least. That’s why Dream pours his everything into his music, that’s why he cuts his heart open and bleeds out his sentiments onto blank sheet music in hopes of speaking in the language that both of them know by heart. That’s why Dream plays so beautifully, because it ended up being Techno that had pushed him to this standard. A beautiful piece for a beautiful man, a beautiful song for a beautiful muse.

Naturally, it also ended up being Techno that brought Dream to his feet in the darkness of the backstage at the end of their duet to truly bring them together in a chaste kiss.

And now, I hear

A symphony

Chapter Text

Techno wakes up to the gentle sunlight warming up his skin and casting the room in a golden glow, memories of tear-filled nights washed away by slumber and tender affection. Everything is far too bright, he decides, so he closes his eyes for a minute as his brain wakes up along with the rest of his body. His apartment is silent apart from the buzz of the busying streets of the city and his own soft sighs, devoid of the sobs from a time past that had filled the air until it was suffocating. He’s still blinking away bleariness, eyes adjusting to the world around him when the lump of blankets on his left side shifts and reveals none other than Dream. Hair messy and shirt wrinkled from turning and tossing around, Dream rubs his eyes and groans at the light before reaching out blindly for the blankets. Amused, Techno ruffles his hair to wake him up.

Adding the smiling emoticon because you’re trying to cover your sadness

If you’re okay, then why are your texts so short?

Woah oh oh oh, woah oh oh oh

“Dream.” Techno croaks out, with a dry throat and a voice distorted by the remnants of sleep and the consequences of tears. “Good morning.” His heart flutters as Dream musters a small smile, shy and tentative before he moves so close that his hot breath is palpable on Techno’s exposed neck. Both of them can feel the small shiver running up his spine, and Dream lets out a breathless little laugh that only serves to quicken Techno’s rapidly beating heart. His fingers twitch by his side as he aches to do something, anything in response to the love that fills his hollow soul and threatens to spill over in a mess of sentiments.

Those superficial wounds will heal in just a few days

Your silence is more like your loneliness is crying out

No oh oh oh, no oh oh oh

“G’mornin, Techno.” Dream whispers before he leaves a trail of soft kisses up Techno’s neck all the way to just below his lips, and he feels as though his entire body is burning with a flame so fervid that it threatens to consume him whole. All this time of being together, and yet he’s no less flustered from the countless gestures of affection that Dream never seems to run out of. Techno’s heart skips a beat when Dream finally closes the distance and kisses him, soft and sweet despite their dry lips and lasting longer than it really should for so early in the morning. But who cares, really? Not them, not in the privacy of Techno’s bedroom and tangled up in the silken sheets as they bathe in the golds of the rising sun. Dream pulls away and giggles before sitting up and stretching out his limbs a little, lean muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. Techno’s heartbeat is pounding loudly in his ears and he feels as though he’s going to burst if he sits in silence and his tender feelings, so he opens his mouth to say the first thing that comes to mind.

You’re not alone, this I can promise

“You hogged the blankets again last night.” When Dream laughs at that, Techno can’t help but laugh too. Nevertheless, he takes the bait because he always does, because that’s how they always end up in lighthearted banter. It’s something so familiar, so irreplaceable in their day to day life even as their label had changed from friends to best friends to lovers.

“Does it even matter? We cuddle.” As if to prove his point, Dream leans back on the headboard and gestures for him to come closer. Techno is never one to deny him, so he finds his way onto his lap and presses his torso against Dream’s. Both of them let out a content sigh at the warmth, fingers quick to trail across exposed skin and play with messy strands of hair.

“Of course it does. it’s still cold.” Techno rolls his eyes, and Dream doesn’t have to see it to know that he does. It’s the kind of thing that comes from years of knowing each other, of love-struck observations and careful attention to details brought only by affections. It’s the kind of thing that only comes from being in love, almost painfully so.

“Why, am I not hot enough for you?” Techno sighs in exasperation and pushes himself off Dream as he laughs at his own joke, though he can’t deny the chuckle that bubbles up his throat. It was just too easy for Dream to make him smile, to wipe away his blues and paint him with yellows.

Lowering my voice a little

Feet stepping a little closer

Until I am face to face with you

“You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I would’ve kicked you off a long time ago.” Techno grumbles, moving to unravel the blankets from his leg. When he notices the silence, he looks back to Dream to see what he’s doing. He doesn’t expect the fond look he’s being given, the twinkle in emerald eyes as they meet crimson and the tiny grin that decorates a freckled face when he doesn’t look away. It’s a look so unbearably soft, so unbelievably tender that Techno doesn’t know how to respond to it. “What?”

“I’m happy you’re feeling better now, love.” Dream shifts closer and brings a hand up to cup his face, thumb running along dried tear tracks in a gesture so reminiscent of last night. It had only been a few hours, and yet it feels so long ago with how bright his world is once again. Techno doesn’t even remember what he had been so stricken about, only sweet nothings and grounding touches were the memories that had chosen to linger in his simple mind. He mirrors with a smile of his own and leans into Dream’s hand, pressing a kiss onto his palm.

“It’s all thanks to you, you know.”

Ears listening a little more attentively

Hugging a little more sincerely

I will realize those beautiful dreams with you

Chapter Text

Life is dull for Dream, terribly boring in almost all aspects.

In here, within the four walls of a cramped room and the blanket of darkness that covers it, he laments his fate. There is but barely enough living space for one person, filled with old furniture and dust and countless crafts. There is but one window right above his head, and even light seems scarce with how branches obstruct the sun’s beaming smile. He has explored the world of this room a thousand times over, having long known the grooves by the headboard of the bed and the blemishes of paint on the desk and the creak of the floorboards by the door.

Oh, how he longs for the embrace of something other than the suffocating night. How he longs for times long past, for the golds like sunlight to wash over his hair and the greens like grass to tickle his feet. How he longs for the world outside of his prison, how he longs for the fresh air amidst the cloud of dust, how he longs for the sensation of ocean waters crashing against him like a distant memory.

However, he cannot. He doesn’t have the energy to even dream of doing what he so wishes, doesn’t even have the energy to dwell on wishful thinking. His legs cannot move to take him to lands unknown, his arms cannot lift themselves to reach out to the light, and his lips cannot fall open to let slip what he truly wants to say.

The door creaks open slowly, and it brightens up the alert eyes that had been staring at it for hours in anticipation. A familiar face stumbles into the room, haphazardly dropping all belongings on the floor before crashing onto the bed.

Long pink hair falls on bed covers like red seawaters as Techno lies there unmoving, knuckles white as he grips at the sheets with trembling fists. His clothes are tousled, his hair tangled, and his arms stained with the coals of one of the town’s many factories. Every day was just like this, just as cruel in both work and pay, just as merciless in both necessity and leisure. Every day was just like this, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to watch.

Techno twitches a bit, slowly tilting his head upwards with a tired gaze. He whispers out into the empty air, voice hoarse. “… I’m tired.”

I know. Dream thinks, trying to muster as much strength as he could to convey just as much. As always, it’s futile. As always, he can’t do anything.

“I’m so tired, but I don’t have the time to rest.” Techno heaves out an exasperated sigh before forcing himself to get up. He shrugs off his uniform carelessly and tosses it onto a chair before walking to the small closet, taking out a new pair of clothes and wiping down the soot on his arms.

Dream stares in horror, frantically trying to communicate. He would instantly force him to lie back down, if he could. I wish you did.

“It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” Techno walks over to sit across from Dream, bangs falling over crimson eyes when he refuses to acknowledge him. “I just need to work harder.”

Please don’t. Dream almost pleads, almost begs. He can’t, even if he wanted to. Please lie back down and rest.

Despite the exhaustion in his frame and the fatigue in his movements, Techno still chooses to work on his creations. He’s a craftsman by heart; though society forces him to take time out of his day and reluctantly work an unfulfilling and underpaying job to live, his passion for the art will never be quelled. He just tries to make ends meet, between long hours at his job and the even longer hours that craftsmanship demands for decent results. Even with all that, he does wonderfully at what he puts his heart to.

It would be honorable… if it weren’t so damaging.

Nimble, trained fingers handled the wooden parts with care, feeling for their size and texture before picking one out to add onto an ongoing project. The blade at the side is picked up, and Techno begins cautiously shaving off the excess and slotting it into the missing area to test for its fit. After a few minutes, a lithe arm is finally attached to a flawlessly made ballerina figurine. A small smile makes its way onto his perpetually weary face as he leans back to open a drawer, pulling out old paints that are halfway dried. All it takes is a drop of water and the swipe of a brush to bring the colors back to life again, to paint with light strokes on the delicate statuette.

And yet, even with Techno’s masterful ministrations, it’s clear his health is deteriorating at the rate his works are improving. Previously soft skin had been littered with small scars and wounds that never seem to close, with all the blade mishaps that are slowly becoming more and more common. Previously sharp vision had been clouded, with all the times he squints to perceive things even barely a meter a way. Previously sharp memory and careful demeanor had been lost to time, with all the forgetfulness and clumsiness as prevalent as ever in hindering his progress and making him work more to compensate. It is a painful cycle; it is an inevitable loop. Dream wants so badly to do something, to maybe hold him close, to maybe tell him it’ll be okay, to maybe help him by shouldering half of his workload.

However, Dream cannot do as he wishes. His mouth is forced shut, his hands are fixed in position, and his feet are glued in place. He’s powerless, far too powerless. He wants to do so much more, and yet nothing can make the impossible come true. So, like every other time, he just watches sadly as Techno slowly works himself to death while trying to accomplish his life’s goal.

After all, Dream is simply another porcelain doll sitting atop Techno’s desk.

Chapter Text

[PATROL SEQUENCE INITIATED. UNITS DEPLOYED FOR SURVEILLANCE. REPEAT, PATROL SEQUENCE INITIATED. UNITS DEPLOYED FOR SURVEILLANCE.]

That wakes him up.

His vision struggles to adjust fully to the world around him, the bleak and monochrome grays and silvers of his surroundings stretching on for miles in the narrow hallway ahead of him. He’s long stopped taking track of how long he’s been here; the construct known as time was quick to fade in face of long days with barely any distinction among them. The distant, automated robotic voice repeats the redundant scheduled announcement falls over the hum of functioning engines. The hiss of steam being blown out the exhaust pipes, the squeak of unoiled parts trying to function as they had before, the groan of the reservoirs under the strain of several gallons of liquid… all come together to form the cacophony of sounds that makes up the machine’s melody.

He, too, was a part of that symphony.

He knows exactly how he ended up here. There was no internal turmoil, no questioning his fate, no wondering where things went wrong. He was no human plagued with the philosophy of existence, as he had already been programmed to be able to identify the cause to an effect. His databank has every memory stored perfectly, as clear as the skies on a sunny day and yet this particular one transcended that amount of clarity somehow.

Perhaps, once upon a time, there was purpose to his creation. There was reasoning behind the oil that ran through his bodice like blood to a human, there was reasoning behind the metal base that held him upright like a skeleton to a human. However, all things faded to the test of time even with a timeless creature like him. Be used and succumb to wear, be unused and succumb to rust; cruel is the life of the machine. It had taken him so long to realize the fallacy in his thinking. He hadn’t seen it when his own creator looked at him with distaste and called him scrap metal, nor when he was thrown behind the iron bars of his dingy, cramped cell. No, it was when he landed roughly on the floor from the force of impact. A lone, rusted screw that had already been loosened from natural movement escaped his body and rolled along the cobblestone. As he watched it come to an eventual stop, he finally knew.

Even something as miniscule as a screw had a purpose: to support something much greater than life itself and hold it together. But for he who had been locked away, for he who was deemed a failed piece of technology and was simply waiting for reassembly to be the predecessor to what he couldn’t be… what purpose was left?

Unused joints creak dreadfully as his body struggles to catch up to the commands his central system gave. It had been so, so long since he stood upright like this. He was degrading by the second, the force of his body almost making his knee pistons buckle and send him back to the hard stone that would dent him even further. Thankfully, he manages to stabilize himself before he breaks out of his flimsy restraints and runs one now free hand over the mossy walls. Temptation seeps through the crevices of his damaged self, and in that moment he decides to go against his own hardwired programming. As he takes a deep breath in preparation, the rust encasing his body begins to crack and peel away. Miserable is the shedding of copper snakeskin, but lying beneath the torturous wrapping... is him.

And he is Techno. A corroded screw, tumbling along the ground. No purpose, no reason, nothing to support.

Even then, he still finds reprieve in the glimmers of hope in the form of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the walls. If he could just... perhaps? He trails over the crumbling brick, searching, feeling for signs of weakness. The sensors in his fingers linger over one such spot, and he braces himself as he lets the familiar tendrils of his own energy running down the wires from his core to his outstretched hand. He may have internalized his current worthlessness, but then again machines were initially made with certain capabilities in mind. Just like this one.

There was no ringing in his ears when the explosion happened. There was no shielding his eyes with his arms, no protecting his vitals by curling in on himself, no retreating to the far corner to avoid the brunt of the blast. Techno is a fighter robot made to withstand his own power, after all. Even as spare shrapnel hits and bounces off the metal plates of his skin, even as debris flies everywhere to barely obstruct his vision, he remains unfazed and instead stares at the dark clouds and faraway city lights.

This tower was tall, frighteningly so. He could barely see the bottom, and it wasn’t just because of the fog of dust from the shaking of the now unstable ceiling. Briefly, he wonders if he should stop himself. It would certainly not be an easy feat. When… if he even survived the fall, the ground was littered with patrolling guards anyway. He had no idea how near or far safety was, nor did he know which direction he should go in. He had barely left his prison, even when he was still free.

“Lofty are those that build their tower, foolish are those that climb after.” they say. He had done neither, so what was he?

[ROGUE UNIT DETECTED. INITIATING TERMINATION PROTOCOL ACCORDING TO REGULATION.]

He grits his teeth and swiftly twists around, wasting no time in firing a few warning blasts. He never really liked hurting the guards, they were fellow machines after all even when not as sentient as him. All he could do was aim at their feet, forcing the floor to give out and leaving the ground to swallow them whole. He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell in the impending reflection of his morality, so he analyzes something else instead.

Airspeed velocity: Dangerous.

Impact on landing: Immense.

Effects on structural integrity: Unknown.

Chance of survival: Minimal.

[RESUMING TERMINATION PROTOCOL.]

It would certainly be foolish to even consider attempting this. Alas, fate had not blessed him with a sharper intellect.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he calls out to no one, pretending the incessant squeak of an unoiled gear was a reply. “I’ll be leaving you with the Techno you know!” He glances at the rusted screw, smiles, and leaps.

One second, he’s suspended in mid-air. The next, he’s hurtling towards the ground and accelerating at an alarming rate. A chuckle bubbles out of nervous lips, tentative and unsure before dissolving into full blown laughter. As he had thought, his programming wasn’t meant to withstand stress of this magnitude. He ignores the way his predictive functions scream, ignores the literal sirens in his head wailing for safety. He instead relishes the likeness of an adrenaline rush in the form of his systems vigorously pumping fuel to all parts of his body to give him the power to do something, anything to get himself out of this situation. He felt animated, he felt tangible and mortal and it was only accentuated by the impending threat of his demise. How ironic that death would make him feel alive.

His glee may have been imagined, but gravity’s surefire grip on him was not.

He is a machine, yes, but he cannot predict everything. He certainly does not predict how his body withstands the impact, how he barely escapes with the sliver of a life after a brush with his untimely demise. It is nothing short of a miracle. He certainly is not unscathed, if the awful crunch of him hitting the solid concrete was anything to go by. He sustained structural damage heavier than ever before, but he was alive. He was still functioning, albeit just barely. He doesn’t know if his internalized worthlessness caused him to underestimate himself, or if his systems truly surprised him.

He also doesn’t know if he should thank them for holding on, or if he should resent them.

Before Techno can come to a decision, he notices another robot in a similar state of disrepair far off into the distance. They looked to be of similar models, like brothers, he realized. The large label reading “SBI” marking the other’s hunched and likely broken back was a clear indication of such. He notices the broken legs, likely from doing the same thing he had just done.

He also notices the encroaching pursuers coming from the entrance of the tower, likely to search for he who had just jumped. Techno could still walk. He could still move, and that was enough. That was more than enough, he thinks as he drags himself over to the other.

Before he knew it, a smile had made its way onto his face. The sight that was made to tease, torture and destroy him merely filled him with simple joy. It would be so easy to mistake this happiness for sadism, for a cruel and perverse penchant for morbidity that hadn’t quite been diluted when it was passed down from their human counterparts. And yet, it was not that at all. It was something else entirely, filling his systems with the distinct sweetness of serotonin and relief. The meaning behind his creation… he’s found it. The fallacy he had held onto for so long turned out it was true.

Techno may just be a corroded screw, but at least he’s found something to hold together. Because that’s what you do for family, right?

Chapter Text

The young god is born of the universe’s will, is breathed into with the life of swirling nebulae and is cradled by the loving hold of a thousand stars. By then, there had been no world as humankind had knew it; by then, there had only been the universe, and the universe’s precious child, and the beginnings of worlds created in his image. The most radiant of suns were painted in the golds of his hair, the most precious of emeralds were cast in the glow of his eyes, and thus everything had but a fraction of who he was.

The young god is powerful, and he seeks to do something with the magic flowing through his veins. His hands reach out for some semblance of meaning in his dull existence, and his fingers itch to tenderly caress something of his painstaking creation. He knows only solitude, knows only himself as everything had been crafted in his wake. He knows only the pitiful recreations of him, knows only the part of himself reflected in everything as the universe knows it. He knows only that, and he laments only that.

The young god is wistful, and he longs so very much for something other than what he had known. And thus, humans were made. Humans were shaped in the very palm of his hand, and so very alike him yet at the same time not. They are created in his image, though are nowhere near as flawless. They are virtuous, though nowhere near as impeccable. They are volatile, they are foolish, and they are so very unique that the young god could spend the rest of his days just watching over them in amusement.

Very interesting, humans are. Very unpredictable, humans prove themselves to be as time went on.

The young god is inexperienced, and he what he cannot comprehend the most are the cumbersome things that humans call ‘emotions’. He does not see the appeal in the way sorrow’s tears blur one’s vision, nor in the way joy’s smiles ache over time. He does not see the appeal in the way rage and love cloud judgment, nor in the way grief and despair inflict pain, nor in the way pride and arrogance withhold truths. He had not what the humans had created of their own volition, what they had given a name to and categorized based on vague characteristics. He does not understand the complexities of character, the complicated social cues, the guesswork needed to gauge another’s thoughts.

And thus, when a human approaches his land with wavy brown hair, golden eyes, and a forced smile, he thinks nothing of it. And thus, when the human mutters false niceties and fiddles with the sheathed sword at his waist, he chalks it up to another form of greeting that humans have come up with. And thus, when the human whisks away some of his citizens to further away, he shrugs it off as just a mere indulgence in the unknown.

For what is a young god but unknowing of human desires, of the monstrosities of his creation?

If there’s one thing humans have that the young god does not, it is the penchant for evil. They can be brutal, they can be ruthless, they can be downright cruel. They are self-interested, self-motivated, and selfish. Humans want what they do not have, reach for what they cannot achieve, and long for unattainable dreams. Their greed knows no bounds, and neither do the severity of their actions should they be uncaring enough about the consequences.

They declare his land as their own, and they rain arrows upon those who dare defy that as though their word is worth anything. They declare his property as their own, and they sink swords into those who dare raise their voice as though they are the only ones that can speak. They take, and take, and take with no regard for what little is left.

War never seems to succumb to the test of time, the young god discovers. It will always force a victory, always force death and destruction until no more devastation can be brought upon the barren wastelands.

The young god loathes what his precious creations do against each other. The young god loathes what he must do to stop them from hurting each other.

“I will not let anyone interfere with my own eternal stage!” He declares as he raises his sword above his head threateningly above the cowering children, holding his stance as he sees the purple particles of the nearby portal swirling restlessly. It is but an act, after all. However, there is one thing his act cannot hide.

He smiles, for it had been the first time in a while that the humans have banded together to protect each other and not to fight each other. He smiles, even as he is being pushed away from the child now being cradled in warm arms. He smiles, even as he is taken away from his most precious creations. “Change brings about tragedy!”

Later, in the confines of a prison cell, before the glow of a wall of flowing lava, the young god weeps. His tears seep into the obsidian lining the surface of the floor.

“I want to protect all the precious things in this world…”

Chapter Text

In the shade of the towering trees and hidden away from the human gaze, sits two lovers whispering in hushed conversations to only be heard by the passing breeze. 

"Would it be so cruel as to ask for a minute of your time?" Dream whines loudly, crawling into the other's lap. "My lips are quite lonely." 

Techno remains unfazed, voice monotone as he replies. "You have eons of it already. Allow me this." 

Dream pouts. "And what is it so captivating that draws you away from me?" 

"This plotline..." Techno gestures to the book held in one hand, running calloused fingertips along the written words with a delicate touch so uncharacteristic of a violent god. "It's quite poetic. I'm rather intrigued." 

"And how poetic would it be for you to kiss me?" Dream only drawls on, leaning ever so tantalizingly closer. He commands attention, he pries Techno's eyes off stories on paper so they linger upon emerald eyes and golden bangs and freckles cheeks instead. "To feel the embrace of your fleeting lips, to melt into the warmth of your touch, to taste our sins on the tip of your tongue?" 

"Cease this nonsense." He scoffs and gently pushes him away, averting his gaze. His cheeks flush, if only slightly. "I am not worthy." 

The other only rolls his eyes. "And who are you to tell the gods who their gaze should fall upon?" 

"You are no god." He looks up at the heavens, looks up at their distant home that only was. The skies seem to rumble in both distaste and agreement, clouds darkening and sparking with thunder so long as his eyes are on where they shouldn't be. "Not anymore." 

The other smiles, a little painful and a little wistful. "And it's all for you, is it not?"

"Yeah." He remembers trials and tribulations, remembers tears and passionate declarations, remembers sentences to exile. He remembers, and chooses to forget. "It is."

Chapter Text

“...and for my very special grandson… I want you to have this sealed envelope. No, no, don't open it yet... have patience. Now, listen close... There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life... and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my boy, you'll be ready for this gift. Now, let grandpa rest.”

The words play like a broken record on loop in Techno’s mind over the monotonous white noise of typing coworkers and shuffling papers. It’s the same tune every single day. The memory flashes in his mind over the monochrome neutral grays of his office cubicle. It’s the same sight every single day. The muscles in his back scream out in pain as he stretches in his cushioned seat. It’s the same feeling every single day. He sighs and slumps down onto his desk once again, not quite because of the usual boredom or restlessness but more from exhaustion.

This damn job is making him so, so tired. He needs a break, an escape of some kind.

This isn’t the first time these thoughts have plagued his mind. This isn’t the first time he’s wanted to just run away and forget about everything. This isn’t the first time he’s wanted to start anew. This isn’t the first time he’s looked at the world in distaste, longing for simplicity and serenity amongst a fast paced society. This isn’t the first time he’s pulled back the desk drawer, staring longingly at the gift bestowed unto him with tendrils of temptation crawling at the edges of his heart.

This is, however, the first time he acts on his desire. He grabs the envelope and carefully opens it, not wanting to rip or tear anything from his beloved grandfather.

“Dear Techno,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: my farm. It’s located in Essempee, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. i know you’ll honor the family name, my boy. Good luck.

Love, grandpa.”

A farm… Techno didn’t expect that. He didn’t even know his grandfather owned a farm, he must’ve moved out before he was born. He didn’t know a single thing about agriculture nor botany. He has no experience in taking care of a single plant, much less an entire field of them. He studied accounting and was subject to the corporate scheme the moment he graduated college. Farming was often filled with arduous physical labor, and while he wasn’t the weakest, he definitely wasn’t the most physically fit to work for hours under the sun after a year of desk jobs. He never did that well in physical education classes in school, and he barely even works out anymore.

All his senses were telling him this was a very irrational idea. He can’t just throw away years of education for something so uncertain. He can’t just sacrifice stability for what could be just a few moments of glee. He can’t just go against what he’s worked for his entire life just because of prolonged fatigue. But maybe, just maybe… he didn’t need to be so rational all the time.

A farm is definitely not what he expected, but it might just be exactly what he needs.

-

A year later, as he carries a large basket of this spring’s first harvest of plump strawberries towards the shipping bin, he passes by a green motorcycle and someone working on its tires. When a freckled face framed by flaxen hair looks at him with an emerald gaze and flashes a bright smile, he smiles back wholeheartedly.

A farm is definitely exactly what he needed.

Chapter Text

Dream wouldn’t trade this moment for anything, not even the world.

He wouldn’t trade the first rays of the morning sun caressing his face as he gets up earlier than he would like, yawning as he stumbles out of his apartment on his way to the shopping street. He wouldn’t trade the roses’ thorns pricking him into being fully awake, hissing as he remembers to put his gloves on so he can tend to their display for the day. He wouldn’t trade the telltale tinkling of the small wind chime at their front door as the prerequisite to his best friend’s arrival, chuckling as he goes up to greet him and pat down the stray strands of pink hair sticking out.

He would forever cherish growing up with Techno and starting their quaint little flower shop together.

Dream usually handles the customers and the flora, happily chatting away with the regulars and going on tangents when asked for suggestions. Techno usually handles the order listings and the finances, keeping an eye on all the money and goods that go in and out of their business. Their time together is characterized by echoes of laughter, lighthearted banter, and fond smiles tucked away in flower petals and lingering touches.

Something about the way it all feels so right makes his chest tighten as warmth blossoms in his heart.

Our time together so covered in patchwork, shall we soon put an end to it?

Cutting this thread to shreds, it'll scatter about in multiple colors

This day had been a slower one. There aren’t any big holidays approaching, so their recent customers usually just asked for the odd birthday gifts or anniversary bouquets. On days like these, Dream will whine incessantly at Techno that they should leave early and go grab dinner before crashing at his apartment for a video game night. On days like these, Techno will roll his eyes and begrudgingly give in after a few minutes only to end up having the most fun when he absolutely destroys Dream no matter what game they play. On days like these, they end up falling asleep on the couch just slightly past midnight and going to work together the next day.

Except, to Dream’s surprise, Techno is the one to clock out early this time.

“Oh!” He blinks and stands up from his seat at the counter, trying to make sure he’s actually seeing things correctly. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah.” The other slings his tote bag strap over his shoulder, locking the storage room door behind him and pocketing the key. “You can go ahead too. I doubt there’ll be anyone going in last minute.”

“Damn, I can’t remember the last time you left early.” Dream sits back down and spins around on his chair as he ponders. Maybe he could ask him if he wants to hang out, like usual. “What, you have a date or something?”

It was an offhand remark, one made in simple jest. With things like these, Techno would just shake his head and laugh it off. And yet, right now, there’s a distinctly incriminating silence punctuated by the beginnings of a blush on pale cheeks that speaks more than enough volumes.

“Techno…” He doesn’t know what to say beyond the heavy realization that he has to swallow.

“Uh.” He stammers, clearly flustered. “It’s just−”

“I’m…” There’s a pause, a shaky breath, and a pained smile. “I’m proud of you. Holy shit, man. Wow. That’s awesome!”

“Yeah?” Techno whispers tentatively.

“Yeah.” Dream hates that his sentiments are at least partially genuine. “Have fun.”

Perhaps he’s a good friend. Perhaps he’s a little masochistic.

“Tell me how it goes.”

“I will.”

Dream’s next words die in his mouth, and rejection tastes of bittersweet honey-tipped petals.

Hey, you see, those words from back then, that wasted time we piled up together…

And just by tearing this thread to shreds, it's uneven, it's laughable, huh?

He comes home to an empty apartment far too early. There are no echoes of laughter, no lighthearted banter and no fond smiles. There are no leftovers from eating out in the fridge, no telltale 8bit video game soundtracks and no blankets being fought over in the dead of night. It is just him and an unused dishwasher with him being too lazy to cook, it is just him and an untouched console piling up dust in his living room, it is just him and an uncontested blanket that somehow feels colder when it’s not being taken away from him.

When had it began? When had his routine shifted from one of company to one of solitude? When had his best friend started being out of his reach?

He rolls over in bed and catches a glimpse of his desk, looking away as the sight is too painful to bear. Fuck. He had forgotten about that. He had forgotten about the array of pictures he put on display, marking nearly every milestone in his life with Techno. It encompasses everything, from clumsy mud stained children with scraped up knees and mischievous grins to newly graduated college students celebrating their business’ opening day. Techno rooted himself into every part of his life and refuses to leave quietly.

Dream coughs as his chest tightens once again, painfully this time.

Tick tack, tick tack, draw a circle

Ding dong, ding dong, let’s play a game

He’s grown used to waking up alone with only sunlight greeting him, even before everything recently. Today, too, seems to give him something new though.

There’s a petal on his pillow, relatively small and unassuming. He probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he had gotten up a few moments earlier. Even if he did, he could’ve just assumed that he took it home with him unknowingly after work. It shouldn’t have meant anything. And yet, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him to take a closer look.

It is shaped like an oval with a pointed tip, primarily a light pink with some green at the top part. It doesn’t have much discernable fragrance to it, not even giving off a single hint when he brings it up to his face and sniffs at it. It is paper thin and fragile, threatening to fall apart in his hands at the slightest bit of rough movement. The most recognizable part of it is the deep red streaks that mark the entire expanse of its front.

So it’s an alstroemeria, or a Peruvian lily as some may call it. It is commonly associated with devotion and friendship because of the particular manner its leaves grow, as they go upside down and twirl out from the stem much like the twists, turns and growth of friendships. The pink ones represent budding romance, gentle feelings and playfulness, and they are often dubbed as the perfect flowers to give when friendships turn to something more akin to love.

It hits a little too close to home, and the implications of such make for a terrifying revelation that he doesn’t want to think about. And yet, when he feels the rash building on the roof of his mouth and the tickle of pointed petal ends at the back of his throat, he’s forced to face it head on.

Of course. Of fucking course he has the Hanahaki disease. Of course a plant decides to grow in his lungs just because he loves his best friend that doesn’t love him back.

Tick tack, tick tack, connecting and releasing

Ding dong, ding dong, I’ll see you later

“Damn.” Techno whistles when he steps inside Dream’s apartment for the first time in a long while, only here because his date couldn’t make it. “Stop overworking yourself, man.”

“Huh?” He blinks and looks around, trying to look for what he’s talking about. “How?”

“Look at all these.” The other walks over and picks up an all too familiar petal off one end of the couch, showing it to him. “They’re everywhere. Have you been bringing work back home or something? Is that why you’ve been pretty tired lately?”

“Ah, that.” Dream freezes in place, suddenly more alert now than he’s ever been before. Fuck, fuck, fuck he forgot to clean up. He thinks he can see more of them on the floor, and he hastily kicks them under the couch. He hopes he doesn’t come off as too nervous. “Yeah, I guess. My bad.”

“You better get some rest.”

“I’ll try.”

“If anything’s bothering you, just tell me.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious. If you don’t take care of yourself, I will.” Techno puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes ever so slightly. He thinks he can feel the roots tightening around his lungs at that. “We’re best friends for a reason.”

“I know.” Dream looks away, swallowing down the incoming wave of petals.

He knows that all too well, already. He knows that’s all they’ll ever be.

The frayed thread whispers

Dream thinks he’s properly cleaned up everything now, giving the storage room one last quick scan. The new supply of flowers has been sorted and put away, with all the unusable, wilted, or dead parts collected and put into the trash bag that he’s about to tie shut. The buds that spill from his lips, too, have been picked up with the intention to be thrown away and forgotten. He hopes his unrequited feelings could be as easily crushed beneath his feet like the physical manifestations of them are.

Techno bursts into the room suddenly, walking over. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He startles, but is too late to keep the contents secret from prying eyes. “Wait−”

“Again?” The other raises an eyebrow, squinting to inspect the bag in the dim lighting. “There’s been a lot more of these recently, don’t you think?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“No, really. It used to take a month to fill one of these bags up. Now it’s taking just a little over a week. Do you think we should switch suppliers?”

“It’s fine.” Dream waves it off, averting his gaze in hopes that his voice doesn’t come out shaky. “It might just be a bad batch.”

Techno only looks at him incredulously. “For weeks on end?”

“A few bad batches, then.” He looks back at him, if only to make himself feel confident. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll handle it myself if this keeps going.”

A tense silence fills the air for a few moments, before a sigh is breathed out in defeat. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be going now, don’t forget to lock up.”

Dream doesn’t hear the faraway footsteps and the loud creak of the back door over his rushing heartbeat pounding in his ears. If anything, he’s just glad that Techno never noticed the blood staining some of the small pink buds.

You, I'd really rather you just stop existing

If it continues unchanged like this…

The worst part of the Hanahaki disease isn’t the constant reminder of his unrequited feelings, nor the way he feels like he can’t breathe, nor the taste of blood that has found its home in his mouth. It’s the fact that it’s debilitating enough that Dream ends up missing work, making Techno run to his apartment in concern.

“Didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself?” The other scolds lightheartedly as he brushes flaxen bangs from his sweating face in an action that feels all too tender. Fuck. He feels buds threatening to bloom right out of his mouth.

“Yeah.” He coughs, wincing as the sharp tips graze his throat. “I am.”

“You look worse than you did last time.”

“Fuck you.”

“Do you feel sick?” Techno puts a cold, damp towel on his forehead, and he’s so gentle that it hurts. “You’ve been coughing a lot.”

“… a bit.” Dream closes his eyes when black spots begin to flood his vision. “It might just be my allergies, or some passing cold.”

“Take a sick day off. In the meanwhile, drink these and rest.” The other sets down what smells like a bowl of soup on his bedside table, and he opens his eyes and looks over to see that there’s some medicine and a glass of water there as well. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

“It’s fine.” He sits up slowly, taking care not to let the towel on his forehead fall off. “I’ll be fine. You need to run the shop today; we have a bunch of orders waiting to be picked up.”

“Alright.” Techno gets up to grab his phone and set it next to him before going to the door to leave. “Call me if you need anything.”

Dream nods. He doesn’t need anything more, though. He just needs him to love him back.

Then I’m sure, I’m sure it’s no big deal

It'll just get a little trivial

Dream is beginning to regret going back to work and insisting he’s fine. All the echoes of laughter, lighthearted banter, and fond smiles tucked away in flower petals and lingering touches are beginning to get to him. It hurts even more when they’re not for him.

When a newcomer walks in and Techno smiles in a way he’s never seen before, he knows he has to walk away. He lost before he even knew he was fighting. When introductions are made, he gives the best smile he can muster and the warmest welcome he can give. Everything else tastes like ash and petals and blood at the tip of his tongue.

He locks himself in the bathroom with the premise of a flimsy excuse that he doesn’t even remember making. He crumples to the floor and starts beating his fists against his constricted chest as it tightens painfully and elicits a strangled gasp out of him. He’s coughing and heaving as silently as he can help it, stifling down any pained noises as blood begins to trail down his chin. He chokes out the massive lump in his throat, barely able to breathe through the mass. He starts ripping it out of his mouth himself just so he can breathe again, throwing it to the side as he rushes to the toilet when the nausea makes his vision swim.

When he comes back to, one of his hands feel something moist and soft. He looks over to see a gorgeous full alstroemeria flower, complete with sharp green tips, red steaks and six petals held up by a thin stem with upside down leaves. It’s the most beautiful Peruvian lily he’s ever seen, bigger than any individual flower from every batch they’ve gotten before and looking fresh and untouched despite the way it came into being. No matter how much he rips and tears at the petals and the buds and the flowers, they always come out pristine. No matter how much he rips and tears at his lingering feelings and his love, they always remain perdurable. Dream hates that he can never get rid of Techno.

With a bloodied flower in his hand and the muffled sounds of loving whispers from outside the door, he simply cries.

Hey, can I, can I throw it all away?

If it continues unnoticed like that…

Techno begins to lock up for the day and smiles to himself. Things had been going well, recently. Business is booming, his family is doing as well as ever, and he’s got himself a special someone. He’s happier now than he’s ever been. He couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, except for one thing.

Dream had been a lot more distant, and he gets sick more often these days as well. He spaces out a lot more, and has even refused some of Techno’s invitations to hang out when he used to be the one to initiate all the time. To say he’s worried would be a massive understatement. He thinks he’s hiding something, but he doesn’t want to pry. Just because they’re best friends doesn’t mean they don’t have secrets, but still. He just hopes he would take care of himself and let others take care of him as well, and perhaps it would start with opening up about what’s bothering him.

So when he walks into the storage room and finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by several pink identical pink flowers looking as though he’s about to start another bouquet, he can’t resist the urge to ask a question.

“Hey, what’s that for?” He comes up to him and sits on the space beside him, careful not to trample any of the flowers under his weight. They had pink petals and red streaks, and they looked so paper thin and fragile. He would hate to destroy them, even accidentally.

The other doesn’t look up from his work, only humming noncommittally and reaching over for a pair of floral scissors to trim away at some unruly leaves. “Hm?”

“We don’t have that in our list of orders.” Techno ponders for a moment, trying to remember any requests like these. There had been some just asking for a single type of flower just so they can have their favorites, but none of the recent ones mentioned anything pink. “You making that for someone?”

“I… no?” Dream’s eyes look wide, like a deer caught in headlights. He stifles the urge to chuckle, not wanting to scare him away no matter how fond he knows it will come out as.

“Hey, chill out.” He reassures, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m fine with it. What are the meaning of those again?”

“I’m really not making them for anyone.” The other man answers far too quick for his liking. He looks like he’s ready to get up and start running at any second now, like prey cornered by a predator. “Just doing it to calm myself down. It gives my hands something to do.”

“Alright.” He decides not to press. He doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for both of them. “Only one type of flower though?”

“Yeah.” The other nods, and that’s that.

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and he realizes how much he misses this silent sort of company. He thinks he’ll stay around for a bit longer to pass over some tools or flowers that are out of reach, and maybe he can even walk him back to his apartment when he’s done. Maybe he can invite him in, and they’ll spend the night playing video games all over again like nothing had ever changed. Maybe he can get back the best friend he knew all these years. Or maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. He hands over some pruning shears when the other gestures for them, and inhales sharply when the blonde’s shaky grip struggle to cut the stem like he’s lost all his grip strength.

Despite everything, Techno finds himself wanting to ask just one question. He doesn’t mean to pry, really, he’s just a little curious.

“Why’d you pick this kind of flower?”

Dream just gives him what looks like a pained smile, riddled with swirling emotions that he can’t read.

“I didn’t.”

Maybe I'll keep on loving you

I wonder if it'll hurt, just a little...