Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As far as Dream was aware, he was fine. 

Mentally speaking, at least, and as “fine” as one could be after years of living on the run, having barely any contact with people who wouldn’t promise an axe through the neck, not knowing if any given day would be the last. That did tend to mess with one’s head a little. 

Alright, realistically, he probably wouldn’t pass as fine to an observer, but “fine” was relative. To Dream, it meant his mind was keen, his senses sharp, his tongue quick, and if there were any oddities that’d attract weird looks in a more, well, socially-charged environment, that hardly mattered.

In short, as far as Dream was aware, there was nothing wrong with his head. And certainly not his memory.

So, why the hell could he, for the life of him, not remember how he’d gotten into this situation?

The details were fuzzy, but he was pretty certain he’d just been in a… cave or something? Maybe a ravine? Somewhere else, doing… something else. Not on a blackstone floor pinned to the ground, a knee digging into his back to keep him down as tight rope winded around his wrists, with a searing headache and loud ringing in his ears.

At the back of his heavily dazed mind he realized that couldn’t be good.

Pain wracked his body; nothing he hadn’t survived before, sure, but the worrying part was that he couldn’t tell where it’d come from. Did he fall or something? Maybe he really had been in a ravine, maybe he misstepped and plummeted down, hit his head hard enough to forget about it. That’d explain the pounding and swimming vision, too.

But, again, he was pretty sure he’d been alone. And since when did the bottom of ravines have blackstone floors?

There were voices around him, belated realization dawned upon him. They were saying something he couldn’t understand, the ringing obscuring most of the sound. A group, then. Hunters? Yeah, probably, when did Dream ever meet people that weren’t intent on cutting his sweet freedom short, after all? 

He’d been so certain he’d lost his usual pursuers for a while, though. Were these new ones?

That question was answered quickly enough, as the one that’d been keeping Dream down now yanked him onto his feet by his collar, eliciting a quiet gasp from him, and Dream was met with what the face of… some sort of… creeper hybrid. Or something. 

Huh.

Okay, well, that was certainly new. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d met a hybrid hunter, much less that of a hostile mob. Those weren’t the most common, so he’d heard. They didn’t like to go out much. Or so he’d heard.

The hybrid in question was saying something, the look of resentment not unfamiliar, practically confirming his affiliation, and through the thick fog, some words reached Dream’s consciousness:

“...locked… a long time… don’t try…”

Alright, yeah, he could guess the rest.

Once again, nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Dream flickered his eyes away from the hybrid, not bothering to try to listen any more, and instead almost jumped once they landed on the crowd of people surrounding them, all doning similar looks of disgust, weapons at the ready.

He’d expected like four more people, not twenty. 

Twenty people, all wearing netherite armour. 

Even for the ones that set the price for his head this was a bit much . Dream was valued, but he wasn’t that valued. Surely whatever bounty they’d get wouldn’t pay off nearly half of all of this equipment, forget about anything extra. No, yeah, this was definitely overkill.

What the fuck.

A high strung laugh bubbled in his throat. Whether it was from the quickly sharpening nerves or morbid amusement, he couldn’t tell. The mist was passing, his senses were returning, and with it all, adrenaline began rising. He’d been in the clutches of hunters plenty of times before, but never this outnumbered and never this… out of nowhere. Never when he was this unprepared. With no idea what to do. 

This was bad. This was really bad.

“Well, this is a bit much, isn’t it?” he spoke, eyes shooting from one hunter to another, from one corner of the room to a second, taking in all his surroundings. If he talked, maybe he could stall for time. Maybe he’d find a way out of this mess. “Twenty against one. That’s not really fair.”

Where the hell even was he? Definitely not some ravine. From floor to high ceiling there was nothing but blackstone, no way to fall into except the elevator contraption on the side. And the Nether portal on the other. Logic and confusion aside, he could try making a run for that, but something told him he wouldn’t get far with this many eyes and swords on him. But as far as he could see, there was no other way out besides that and the elevator. Damn. Maybe he should wait until they were outside.

“Yeah, feels pretty shit, doesn’t it?” a kid to the side snarled, the only one without any armour. Dream regarded him. Young for a hunter. Too young. He was glaring at Dream with such malice as if Dream had personally wronged him. Killed his grandma, or something. Dream might have used some lethal force in defence once or twice, but he was no murderer, so this was a bit startling. If not unnerving.

Glancing around, he wasn’t the only one. Sure, hunters never looked at him kindly, but never with such... hostility. Hate. As if he’d personally wronged each one of them, somehow. Or, most of them. He had no idea who these people were, but, much to his surprise, he did recognize a few familiar faces. In particular, Bad and Sapnap (while George was nowhere to be seen. Where could they have left him?). Bad’s expression was unreadable, but there was something raw in Sapnap’s, something Dream couldn’t place but it made his skin crawl.

Sapnap had always tended to throw glares his way, but this was different. This felt personal, and Dream had no idea what he could have done to earn it.

He wasn’t used to this.

(Not for the first time he was glad he had a mask.)

“Time to go, Dream,” the hybrid muttered as he yanked on the rope connecting to Dream’s bound wrists, making him stumble forward. “Again, don’t think I won’t break your legs if you try anything.”

That was the one favorable thing about Dream’s predicament—the hunters never attacked with the intent to kill. For the bounty to be claimed, they needed him alive. At least that.

Dream kept his mouth shut as he was led to the elevator. Surprisingly, only a small escort came along; the rest went through the Nether portal. Perhaps to meet up somewhere further along the road? That’d make sense. It couldn’t be easy to travel with such a large party.

He’d never before seen such a large party, actually.

Nor a place this odd.

This whole situation would be much less concerning if he could remember how he’d gotten into it.

Eyes followed him. Dream could always tell. Some turned away in favor of leaving, but some remained. He glanced down from where they were ascending the contraption and met the gaze of another hybrid. Staring up at him from the platform, unblinking. A shiver wracked Dream’s bones, and he looked away.

This really was a strange group. 

~~~

Dream would like to think the places he’d travelled through would all be recognizable enough, but maybe he wasn’t as good at remembering them as he’d thought. How else could he explain being absolutely lost as to where they were?

The road they took was long, winding through multiple biomes, but not a single sight rang a bell. Seriously, how had he gotten here? Did he lose not minutes worth of memories, but a few days?

His level of concern kept rising with each passing moment.

He didn’t get the chance to try and make a break for it, either. With how armed to the tooth these people were, attempting to brute force his way out would only leave him, optimistically, with shattered bones, so that was a no-go. Not once did they turn their eyes from him either, always keeping him in the middle of their little group, even at night. Out of the four of them, only one slept at a time, the others keeping a close watch.

It was obvious they weren’t taking any chances. Dream could respect that, but it wasn’t appreciated, honestly.

There was another thing that bothered Dream. He wasn’t a man of change, and he knew every single inch and thread of whatever he had with him. So, it didn’t take long for him to realize the clothes he was wearing were not his own. That was what perturbed him the most. The way it laid on his body was uncomfortable, not because it didn’t fit, but because it was so unfamiliar. Unsafe. He didn’t know where anything was supposed to be, even if the hunters hadn’t taken away all his things.

He’d almost asked about it.

He’d almost asked quite a few things, actually, but whenever he made eye contact with Sapnap—the only one from the group he knew—the man glared at him with such heat that keeping his mouth shut seemed like the best option. Testing Sapnap’s temper wouldn’t be the best idea in this situation. Any other time he’d find it entertaining. Any other time where getting maimed didn’t feel like a legitimate possibility.

Eventually, they made it to a city. Or country. Or, whatever the hell. It was the weirdest city Dream had ever been to, what with how odd the buildings were and how uneven the roads laid. 

Dream didn’t get a chance to look around much, though, before they brought him to a… prison. A very large, dark, and intimidating prison. Once again, his nerves twisted. He hadn’t expected he’d be taken straight to one, not before meeting whoever had set the bounty on him. He’d been counting on getting to a place with more objects to work with, but. 

They really weren’t taking any chances.

At that point, he was left alone with the creeper hybrid, who dragged him into the facility. He’d expected to see more guards around, what with how big this place was, but they were alone all throughout. In fact, he didn’t see any other prisoners around, either. They passed cells, sure, but they were all collecting dust.

Why wasn’t he being thrown into one of them?

They stopped at some room where the hybrid—the warden?—ordered him to change his clothes into prison-issued ones. And then, he demanded for Dream’s mask.

In hindsight, he should have expected that. Of course they would want to take it away, it made sense, but Dream still couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back, clutching it.

“Can’t I keep it?” he spoke for the first time in a long while, voice raspy. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I can’t really do anything with it.”

“You’re not allowed to have anything I don’t permit,” the man stated. His sharp eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me take it by force.”

And chop off your hand in the process was left unsaid.

Dream’s lips pursed. He’d have to deal with it. For now. He’d faced scarier challenges in the past, this was nothing.

It was fine.

Slowly, he unclasped the mask, and lowered it. The cold air on his exposed skin was nausea-inducing, but he bit it down. Instead, he placed the mask on the small table, trying to ignore the way it was not his mask. He’d known that. Seeing it actually be true didn’t make it any better.

His hand came up to rest over the lower part of his face, looking somewhere to the side, but he quickly yanked it back down. That’d show weakness, and it was never something he could afford, not even in a place like this. He was fine without his mask, fine with people seeing him, just fine.

Besides, he had more important things to focus on.

Namely, the layout of this prison.

Dream had seen his fair share of holding facilities, none that proved to be too much of a bother to slip out of. That was why, at first, he’d only been moderately concerned, and even then it was mostly about the unexpectedness of the situation. But now, as the warden took him deeper and deeper, worry was growing.

This had to be some maximum security prison. For the worst of the worst, the most dangerous. Too many checkpoints, too many locks, too many failsafes. Sure, Dream was wanted in several countries for one reason or the other, but not to this extent. At least, as far as he was aware. Was there something he didn’t know? Had some incident happened that Dream got the blame for? He hadn’t given anyone any new reasons to hunt him in years, after all. And, in Dream’s humble opinion even those reasons were flimsy at best.

Couple this prison up with the overarmed party that had gotten him, and Dream was left more confused than he’d ever been.

This was getting weird.

“So… Are you, like, the warden of this place or something?” he asked at some point. He had to get some information that would make this make sense.

The hybrid stayed silent, only cast him a cold look.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dream chuckled, though was forced to mask it as a cough when the man glowered at him. “Not a lot of guards around, I see. Seems like a security issue.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dream,” he muttered. “I’m enough to keep you locked up.”

“Right,” Dream drawled, still glancing around. “I’ll admit, this is impressive stuff. I feel like it’s a bit much for a guy like me, though.”

“It’s what you deserve. Get used to it.”

That made Dream frown.

“Aren’t I supposed to get, I dunno, a trial?”

The hybrid scoffed. “Sure, Dream. A trial. As if that’d change anything. Don’t get delusional.”

Scratch days, did his memory loss cover weeks? How did he end up in a country where, apparently, trials weren’t a thing? He hadn’t even heard of that, much less had been anywhere close.

Some of the huntees weren’t official, sure, not legally on the run, but, as far as he knew, Dream was, and this prison looked pretty official, too.

As the lava wall of his obsidian cell lowered, cutting off the view of the rest of the prison, anxiety at the bizarreness of the situation had all but overtaken him.

What mess had he gotten himself into?

~~~

 The box he’d gotten locked up in had five things—a clock, a chest full of empty books, a table, a basin, and so much goddamn obsidian. Whenever he tried to rest, its jagged surface dug into his skin with no remorse, leaving him aching all over. Eventually, he managed to curl onto the small table, since at least that was smooth. Whatever minutes of sleep he got did little for the exhaustion, though. Even less for the hunger that grew with each passing moment. He’d been barely fed during the trip, and now it’d been a couple of days and he’d only gotten a few raw potatoes. Pretty sure that wasn’t up to prison code, or whatever, but he didn’t exactly have anyone to complain to.

Famished and beyond tired, even thinking about an escape plan was borderline impossible.

He desperately needed a clearer head.

Just as he was trying to get some shut eye, though, the intercom came alive and startled him out of his daze.

“You have a visitor, Dream,” the warden spoke. He still didn’t know the guy’s name. Once, he tried to ask, but he was only met with another glare and the words it’s not going to work. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Dream slipped down from the table, confusion blooming. A what now? Since when were there people that would want to visit him ?

Or, maybe it was one of his hunters. That’d be good—he could try getting some answers from them. But it could also be someone that came to confirm he really was Dream and not some impostor. They wouldn’t want to waste funds on a fake, after all. Still, they were also bound to have information on this situation. Either way, anyone he could talk with that wouldn’t only scowl at him was welcomed.

He wasn’t the best at holding conversations, he’ll be the first to admit that, but this was just ridiculous.

When the lava lowered, though, and he saw who was making his way to him, Dream was once more thrown for a loop.

It was that other hybrid from back then, the weird one. Now that they were on the same level, he could see how freakishly tall the guy was. Part enderman? Dream had never heard of such a thing being possible, much less encountered one. Uneasiness grew, and he had to stop himself from stepping back. He didn’t know what the man could want from him, but surely it was nothing bad… right?

And even if it was, Dream could take him, he was sure. The hybrid might have height on him, but that could also be used against him. The clock was sturdy enough for a few good hits, and the table could also be used as a way to push back. Lava was right there, after all, it wouldn’t take much to topple someone into it.

...Or maybe Dream was severely overthinking the situation, once again, and finding threats where they didn’t exist. The warden wouldn’t let in anyone that intended to harm a prisoner, after all. That would definitely be against prison code.

Either way, he wouldn’t be the first to make a move. Maybe the guy just wanted to chat. For some reason.

Once the hybrid was inside the cell, the lava wall lowered behind him, leaving them alone. He didn’t step in any further, though, and instead continued to stare at Dream like he did back in that blackstone room.

Dream shifted his weight under the intensity, now much more pronounced with his mask gone, but refused to the one to break contact. Instead, he waited for the other to speak. Which he didn’t.

This was getting a bit awkward.

“Um… hi?” Dream finally spoke up. “You’re, uh… You were with that party, right?”

The hybrid nodded. “Yes.” Then, a small smile. More like a grimace. “Fortunately.”

“‘Fortu—’… Alright?” First words and he was already making no sense. “Well, did you want something?”

The man cocked his head at him, brows furrowing. “That’s my line, Dream.”

Was this guy good in the head?

“I… don’t really know what you mean,” Dream chuckled, surprised. He reached up to scratch at his cheek. “Are you, uh, I don’t know, some… government official? Or something? Sorry, I’m not too good with those, so if I don’t recognize you and I should, my bad.”

Now it was the hybrid’s turn to look confused. He stared at Dream as if he spoke piglish and grew a second head simultaneously.  

“Dream, I’m supposed to be the one with the memory issues,” he said, a tone of lightheartedness to his voice, but also… something else Dream couldn’t quite pinpoint. It made him feel all weird inside, though.

“Well, you should get that checked out, but I guess that makes two of us,” Dream said with a shrug. “Let me tell you, the last few days have been so weird.” He blew a breath, and before he knew it, all the pent up bewilderment was spilling out. “Look, I get getting locked up, not something I’m not familiar with, but I really don’t know why you all had to go that hard. Are you, like, officers or something? What did I do to get some government after me? Whatever it is, it wasn’t me, I swear, I haven’t done anything in years, well, nothing that’d warrant all this.” He gestured around. “Who do you even work for?”

The guy was silent. In fact, it looked as if he’d lost all ability to talk and could only stare. It’d gotten so sharp that Dream once again began considering his options in case a fight broke out. Seriously, couldn’t this dude knock it off for even a second?

Then, his lips parted, and the strangest sound Dream had ever heard left them. Startled, he scrambled back, sputtering:

“Did you just growl at me!?”

That seemed to make something click for the guy. He hummed, once more tilting his head at him.

“You’re not Dream,” he stated.

Well. That was just rude.

“Right. I’m gonna expect a full pardon and a written apology, then. Can’t believe you’d throw an innocent man behind bars like this.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but the other was unphased. He was only regarding him with some glint in his mismatched unblinking eyes.

“You’re Dream, but also not,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’re kind of stealing my shtick here.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, ignoring Dream’s growing agitation.

“Again, kinda, but not really? I saw Bad and Sapnap with you, so they probably got roped into some bigger hunting party, but why that was even needed is beyond me. I’m seriously not that important.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, Dream.”

“What are you asking me, then?” 

“Why do you think you’re here?”

He scowled. Was the guy playing stupid with him?

“Because… there’s a bounty on me?”

“A bounty,” the man repeated. “Why?”

“Some people are oversensitive, what can I say.”

That earned him a half smile. “Upset the wrong people at the wrong place?”

“Something like that. You should know the details better than I do, really.”

“Right,” he murmured and took out a small notebook from his pocket. He flipped through it. “Well, that’s not actually why they’ve put you here.”

“I kinda figured,” Dream sighed. “Tell me then what atrocities have I been accused of.”

The guy stopped on a page and cleared his throat. 

“Murder, attempted murder, assault, theft, arson, bombing, blackmail, multiple war crimes that I don’t have the specifics on, kidnapping—debatable—psychological warfare,” he read out, eyes going down the list. "And there are some other socially unacceptable behaviors though I'm not sure if those count as crimes."

Ah. Well then.

A beat of silence passed. Then, hysterical laughter began bubbling up in his chest, and he brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle it. Not that it did much. His body shook with it, because he didn’t know what else to do. This had to be some sick joke. He knew he had enemies, people that’d stop at nothing to get his head, but this? No, this was way over the line. 

“Yeah, no, that’s—I promise, there’s been—a really bad mixup,” he spoke through the high strung giggles. “I seriously need an actual trial, because this is just ridiculous.”

“What would you plead?”

“Okay, first of all, I have killed a couple of people, but they were hunters. It was purely in self-defence, not intentional! Assault? Once again, hunters. Am I just supposed to stand there and let them maul me? And theft? Okay, sure, what do you expect me to do, get a job? But that’s all. There’s no I’m getting accused for fucking war crimes or whatever the hell.” He shook his head, trying to settle down his racing heart with deep breaths. “You can’t have any actual proof. You can’t.”

“Multiple eye-witnesses.”

“Bullshit.” 

The guy shrugged.

Dream groaned and buried his hands in his hair, shutting his eyes tight. His nerves were too tight, too much energy, he needed to move, so he started to pace around the cell, trying to calm his breathing. He wouldn’t solve anything with a disheveled head. 

The stars must despise him to have sent such a disaster his way. 

He had to… He had to approach it from a different angle. Just like any other puzzle. Any other trap. Breathe, and think. There wasn’t a box he couldn’t get out of.

“Well, if that’s what I’m getting accused for, then yeah, this isn’t overkill,” he chuckled, going back and forth. “But Bad, Sapnap, George, wherever he is, should know I didn’t do all that. They’ve been trailing me for—for months at this point. They should know I couldn’t have—” But why were Bad and Sapnap there, then? At the blackstone room? “When did this happen? Give me a date and time, and I’ll tell you where I was.” And why would he believe you? “Who are even—Who are those so-called eye-witnesses? Can’t I at least talk to whoever’s accusing me?”

“Dream,” the other spoke. “I believe you.”

That made him pause. He stopped in the middle of the cell and cast the guy a suspicious look. What was his game here?

“You do?”

He nodded. “You have no reason to lie to me.”

Dream scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, you’re either very stupid or very naive. Of course I have a reason. I mean, look around.”

“No, Dream, I meant you have no reason to lie to me. Others, sure. Not me.”

Dream stared at him dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry, do I know you or something?”

“You should,” the guy said with a sigh. A frown etched onto his lips, and glanced to the side, muttering, “I hope he didn’t just do something without telling me about it. That’d be annoying.”

“I think one of us is losing our mind, honestly.”

“Or both,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he said, shrugging. “But yeah, my name’s Ranboo. If that helps.”

No, actually, it didn’t. Dream had never met anyone with such a peculiar name.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” the guy,Ranboo, began, clapping his hands once. “The Dream I, we, know did commit all those crimes. You claim you didn’t, and I believe that. Which leaves us with two Dreams. So, there’s either an issue of the mind—” He tapped his temple. “—or something weirder happened. Both are possible.”

“I’m not insane,” Dream groaned, dragging a palm down his face.

“A lot of insane people don’t think they are.”

“Okay, so what are we supposed to do to figure this out?”

“What we always do with puzzles, gather information.” Ranboo’s lips quirked up. “I’d like to think I picked up a few things from you about that.” He patted his notebook.

There was something off about this guy. Dream couldn’t quite name it, though.

“What’s our association, anyway? Are we, like, friends or something?”

This took Ranboo visibly aback. He glanced down to his book, then back at Dream. Inclined his head, humming.

“Or something.”

“Alright then,” Dream murmured. At least not an enemy. “So you’re gonna help me?”

Ranboo nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s great, yeah, thanks,” Dream sent an awkward smile his way. “Never had an ally before. Do you think anyone else would be as charitable?”

Ranboo opened his book again, searching through the pages.

“Mm, best bet would be Technoblade, I suppose,” he mumbled, reading. “Maybe Philza, too. Though I wouldn’t exactly call either of them “charitable”.”

“Wait, Technoblade?” Dream couldn’t keep a grin from stretching across his face. Finally something familiar. “I know him! Great guy, I owe him some coin but I’m sure we’re cool. Closest thing to an ally, I’d say, which is… still pretty far, but hey! You take what you can get.”

Ranboo stared at him with an odd sense of curiosity before he also took out a pen from his pocket and started jotting something down in that book of his.

“You also mentioned you knew Bad, Sapnap and George,” he remarked. “And they were your… hunters, right?”

“Yeah, last time I checked.”

Ranboo nodded and continued writing.

“Mind if I go through some more names?”

“Uh, yeah, go for it.”

“Do you know Philza?”

“Rings a bell, but can’t say for sure.”

“Sam?”

“Who?”

“The warden.”

“Ah, so that’s his name. No, never met before in my life.”

“Tommy?”

“No idea.”

Ranboo quirked his brows at that before making a note.

“I’m guessing that’s someone important, huh?” Dream chuckled, awkward.

“I suppose you could say that. He’s the kid that swore at you when they caught you. Tubbo?”

“Nope.”

“Wilbur?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t know him, but I know of him. Some, I dunno, commander of some country. Or ruler. I’m not too good with those. But yeah.”

Ranboo paused at that. He brought his pen to his lip and tapped against it, his eyes assessing the page.

“Eret?”

“Same thing as Wilbur, pretty sure.”

“Schlatt?”

“I feel like I’ve heard that name before,” Dream murmured, thinking. “Has something to do with Wilbur, I think. I don’t know.”

“But you haven’t heard of Tubbo.”

“I don’t think so?.. What, is he also some ruler?”

“Not really,” Ranboo mumbled. He flipped a page, pen trailing down. “Antfrost?”

“I think he used to be a hunter. I think.”

“Skeppy?”

“Oh, Bad’s friend. I’m not supposed to know that, though.”

Ranboo continued going down this list of names, some familiar, some not. The ones familiar had barely any relationship between each other, so at the end Dream was left more confused than anything. Impatient, he waited for an explanation, but Ranboo only shut his book and pocketed it.

“It’s strange,” he remarked. “Some of it is wrong, but some not. It could just be delusions, but also…” He trailed off.

“I’m guessing I’m supposed to know all these people more than I do,” Dream laughed, sheepish.

“You could say that. It’s—”

The intercom buzzed, cutting him off.

“Time’s up, Ranboo. Please head to the bridge once the lava is lowered.”

“Guess that’s that for now,” Ranboo said, in thought, glancing back at Dream. “I’ll visit again soon. In the meantime, I’ll try to find out what I can.”

Dream’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled a heavy sigh. This was going to give him a headache.

“Yeah, I really just—God, I really have no idea how I got here. It’s so stupid.”

Ranboo appraised him with an odd look.

“You mentioned memory issues. What did you mean?”

“I meant I literally have no idea how you people got me. One moment I was somewhere else, I’m pretty sure, and the next I’m pinned on the ground in some place I’ve never seen before. I must have seriously hit my head or something,” Dream grumbled, rubbing it.

“And the last thing you remember is… What?”

“...It’s fuzzy,” he admitted. “I’m not too sure. Some ravine, I think. I’ve been trying to remember, but… Yeah. Definitely not… Wherever the hell that was.”

“I see. Let me know if that changes.” He paused. Took out his book again, found a page. “Oh, and if someone else comes visit, don’t tell them I was here.”

“What, would that get you in trouble?” Dream chuckled.

“Yes. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

Ranboo smiled. The lava was almost gone by now, the bridge rising up from it. Ranboo stepped onto it, glancing Dream one last glance over his shoulder, and Dream spoke before his mind caught up with his mouth:

“Hey, I—” He bit his lip, steeling himself. “Seriously, Ranboo, you— thank you for helping me. I’d be really lost otherwise,” he ended with a weak laugh.

Ranboo beamed at him—a wrong sort of thing. Off. Just like before.

“Of course, Dream. I always do.”

Hours later, when Dream was staring up at the purple ceiling, replaying the conversation over and over in his head, it finally clicked.

Ranboo’s friendliness was beneficial to Dream, sure, but he didn’t get friendly out of a kind heart. Ranboo was friendly to Dream… because he was Dream. And given all the things he’d been accused of, well.

There was something more to this relationship, and Dream wasn’t sure anymore what to think of his new ally.

Chapter Text

Dream was staring at his hands.

Before the talk with Ranboo, he hadn’t considered paying himself any attention, but now a thought had wormed its way inside and wouldn’t leave. There was a problem in this situation, something that had gone wrong, and it was either on the inside or out. Without figuring out the source, finding the solution would be impossible, and all options should be considered, even if Dream had been fairly certain he was sane.

Now, trailing along his palms and arms, the scars that were all wrong and the angles that were just slightly off, Dream began questioning whether he was truly losing his mind.

It had taken him several turns of the clock to stabilize himself and not have a freakout in the middle of his cell. That wouldn’t have gone over well. He’d rather not have to explain himself to the warden just yet.

Not that he’d have an answer. Not that he could get an answer.

...He really had to get out of this box.

Speaking of explaining himself, the next time Dream got a visitor was only a day later. He hadn’t yet decided how he’d even want to approach this new revelation that these people thought he was someone else. That he probably was someone else. Should he try to convince them otherwise? As insane as that would sound? Should he just play along for now, wait until Ranboo got back to him? Ideally, he’d make them see there’d been a mistake or… something, and he’d try to figure this out somewhere outside of this suffocating cell. Ideally. Not realistically.

So, when the intercom once more came alive with an announcement, Dream was at a loss of what to do. It would be great if Ranboo was already coming back, but that was too optimistic. Too soon, as well. And when the lava wall lowered and Dream saw an unfamiliar figure in the distance, the last of his hopes were squished. Putting aside the strangeness of the situation, having to talk to two different people for two consecutive days was pushing it, in Dream’s opinion.

When his visitor approached closer, something vaguely familiar about him stood out. It took Dream a few moments to find the memory, but he looked like he’d also been part of that overarmed group, the one without any armour. Was that who Ranboo had mentioned? Timmy? Tommy? Something like that. The young one. As he walked over to the cell, he was muttering something under his breath, clenching and unclenching his hands, taking deep breaths. Oh. Was he nervous? That made Dream feel a little better about his own nerves. Ha.

This was going to go great.

Once inside, the lava wall returned, and the two were left staring at each other for what were a few awkward moments. The kid fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, shifting his weight, before abruptly dropping it and puffing out his chest, a look of determination settling on his face. Alright, here we go.

“Hello, Dream,” he spoke, and it was obvious he was trying to sound as confident as he could. Definitely young. Not that Dream himself was particularly old or anything.

“Uh, yeah, hi, Tommy?..” He trailed it off as more of a question, but the kid didn’t react to it, so it was probably right.

“So, how are you—” Tommy crossed his arms, leaning back a bit, a more leisurous pose. “How’s it been? Being locked up in here?”

Ah, mocking. Now that was something Dream was familiar with.

“Alright, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Been through worse.”

No matter the situation, he would not admit to any weakness.

That wasn’t the answer Tommy wanted, as he frowned in response, scoffing.

“Yeah? Real fun, I reckon.” He paused, in thought. “Everyone hates you now, y’know. Now that they know what a bastard you are.”

“That’s… just kinda the status quo for me,” Dream chuckled. “Can’t do much about it.”

“You could have. If you weren’t such a bitch.”

Dream could have said from the get-go he wasn’t the guy Tommy thought he was, but, truth be told, he was curious who Tommy thought he was. Dream hadn’t been truthful—no one really hated him, not really. Disliked? Sure. Thought of him as a nuisance? Definitely. But all of it was mostly business. Nothing personal.

The way Tommy was looking at him was personal, though. The way everyone else at that room did was, too. Except for Ranboo. He looked at him… in a different personal way.

Dream still wasn’t sure what to think of it.

Taking Dream’s silence as refusal to comment, Tommy glanced around the cell. “So what do you even do in here?”

“Not much, really,” he said as Tommy moved from his spot to the clock. He took it off the wall, examined it. “There are some empty books for me to write in. And, y’know, watching the time. Also thinking of ways to get out.”

He couldn’t help but grin at the scowl Tommy threw his way. Yeah, this was familiar.

“You’re never getting out, Dream,” he proclaimed, his hold on the clock tightening. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. “You won’t— It’s inescapable. Sam said so. You’re gonna be in here until you die. ”

“Mm. Yeah, no, not planning on that, sorry.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be agitating this kid so much, but. It was either that, or admitting he probably shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Besides, there was something amusing about his reactions.

“No, Dream, no, I don’t care,” Tommy said as he threw the clock onto the table, jabbing finger at him. “You’re not— You’re a bastard, you’re not getting into my head anymore, I am done. Go plan how to get some bitches instead, bitch.”

Yeah, definitely amusing.

The response was so unexpected that Dream doubled down with laughter, so much so his sides started to hurt. It’d been a long time since anyone shot back at him with anything as remotely weird as this, and honestly, it was both a shame and a blessing. Imagine someone quipping something like that in a middle of a run, he’d be done for.

Oh, this kid was something else, even though what he said made little to no sense at all.

“Yeah, okay, Tommy, sure,” Dream spoke through heaves of breath, trying to straighten himself up as giggles kept bubbling up. “Easy enough.”

Tommy himself was biting into his fist so hard it looked like it had to hurt. Despite his efforts, his lips were still quirking up, and he had to shake his head to bring them down.

“Oh yeah? I don’t believe you. I think you’re a liar, Dream,” he said once he got his hand out of his mouth. He was trying so hard to sound serious. “You’re ugly and you’re a bastard, and girls don’t like that.”

How he could say that with a straight face was beyond Dream.

“Right, and you know all about what girls like, don’t you, Tommy?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Women flock me.”

“Aren’t you, like, thirteen or something?”

“I’m seventeen, you bitch.”

“Really?” Dream looked him up and down, feigning doubt. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re making fun of me and I don’t like it.”

“You’re the one that called me ugly.”

“It’s ‘cause you are!” Tommy exclaimed, gesturing to him. “I mean, if I had to look at that every morning I’d turn evil, too.”

Tommy was creative with his insults, Dream had to admit as that once more threw him into a fit. Watching him, Tommy couldn’t control a small giggle that rose up this time, and though it was a nice sight to see, he quickly enough slapped a hand over his mouth to stop it. Groaning, he shook his head feverishly and leveled Dream with a renowned glare.

“No, we’re not doing this anymore, Dream,” he said, clenching his fists. “I’m not your friend and I never was, so stop— you’re not getting into my head.”

Well, yeah, that was true enough. Dream had no idea who this Tommy character was, and though he already liked him, clearly the sentiment wasn’t shared.

“You’re the one that started it, really,” Dream said with a cough as he was trying to settle down any remaining chuckles.

“It’s in— ins— whatever, I can’t help it, but you’re not supposed to say all that shit,” he scowled. “It messes with my head.”

“Okay, Tommy, I won’t anymore, sorry.”

Tommy stared at him with a frown.

“Really?”

“Yeah? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Upsetting his opponents? Sure, that was fun. But there was no reason to make everyone else dislike him, too. Not that Tommy needed any help in disliking him, by the looks of it. Still.

A perturbed look crossed Tommy’s face, as if deeply unsettled by something, and he took a step forward.

“You— You’re acting odd, Dream, why are you acting odd? Has the prison gotten to you already? Has it made you all wonky in the head?”

Dream huffed, “My head’s fine, Tommy, thanks. And I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You’re being weird.”

“How weird?”

“I don’t know, just… weird.” He looked Dream up and down. “You stand different and you laugh different, it’s freaky.”

Whoever this Dream was that everyone here knew, he had more relationships than Dream ever had in his entire life combined.

Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that, I guess,” Dream said, shrugging. He paused. “I, uh, I don’t expect you to believe me, but I’m actually not… Dream. Well, I mean, I am, just not— not who you think I am.”

Tommy was silent for a beat, assessing him with the most sour expression Dream had ever seen. 

“What the fuck are you on about, man?”

Yeah, this wouldn’t go great.

“Tommy, listen, I have no idea who you are. Or Sam, or— Yeah, no one, really.”

“What, you trying to tell me you lost your memory or some shit?” Tommy scowled, aggression steadily rising in his voice. “As if anyone would ever buy that.”

“No, I’m not— My memory’s fine, and my head’s fine, I’m just not— Ugh,” Dream groaned, throwing his head back. Finding words for this was a challenge. He wasn’t even sure why he was trying. “Something happened, and now I’m here, and your Dream is… not. I don’t know.”

Not the most convincing argument in the world, he’ll be the first to admit that.

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms, “If this is your master plan, it’s fucking stupid. Could have at least waited a week or something to pretend you’ve gone all crazy and shit.”

Dream said nothing. What was there to say? Clearly, Tommy wasn’t in the mood to even consider the possibility, not that he could blame him. Dream wouldn’t consider it too, if he wasn’t currently in it. And yeah, the timing. What a coincidence that the Dream they all knew and seemed to hate would claim he was someone else the moment he got locked up. Yup, not suspicious at all. Goddammit.

“Alright, Tommy, I won’t try to convince you,” Dream sighed. “I get it, I wouldn’t believe it too. So let’s pretend I really am your Dream for now.” He considered Tommy for a moment. “Why did you come here today? If you hate him, me, so much.”

Tommy was still frowning, obviously annoyed, but he let his arms fall. He glanced around the cell and paced over the chest. Opened it, started rummaging through the empty books.

“Dunno. Wanted to see what you’re like now that you’ve lost, maybe,” he mumbled, flipping through the pages. “Maybe make you feel like I did. Remember exile? Oh wait, guess you ‘fucking don’t,’” he said with air quotations. “You’re such a bastard, you know that?”

“Do you only know ‘bastard‘ and ‘bitch’?”

That earned him a book chucked at his head which he dodged easily enough, a light chuckle slipping through his lips. Catching himself, he covered his mouth, raising the other hand in surrender.

“Whoops. Sorry,” he spoke, muffled. “It’s instinctual. ”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Tommy grumbled, throwing the rest of the books back. “Why haven’t you written anything yet? I thought you were a writer or some shit.”

Okay, well, that was news to him.

“What would you want me to write about?”

“I dunno. Maybe about how no one likes you and how you’ll die alone. That’d be funny, I think.”

“...Tommy,” Dream began, hesitant. Tommy looked over to him from the chest, the glare ever-present. “I… I don’t know what happened here—” He gestured between the two of them, “—and I wish I did, but… Whatever it was, I’m sorry, if I’ve hurt you. Which,  I mean, I’m guessing I did, judging by how you look at me,” he chuckled awkwardly, though was quick to mask it as clearing his throat. “So, uh, yeah, I don’t really know what else to say. Which, sorry about that, too.”

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. In hindsight, he’d just claimed he didn’t know Tommy, so apologizing for something he didn’t understand couldn’t in any world come across as genuine, but he couldn’t just say nothing. Even if he knew he hadn’t done anything to Tommy, some version of Dream did, and that was enough. Dream wasn’t one to judge, he was no saint himself, but this was a kid. What could ever justify hurting him?

Something told him it wasn’t the regular fighting-hurt, either.

Tommy was silent for a long while. His face was contorting into all sorts of expressions as if he himself couldn’t decide what to feel. Eventually, he shook his head, and it settled on scorn.

“That doesn’t mean shit, Dream, and you know it. Apologize to me when you’re not pretending to be someone else.”

Yeah, that response wasn’t surprising.

Dream sighed, “Right. Is there anything else I can do to make it better?”

“Knock this act off.”

“Besides that.”

Tommy regarded him. “I’d really like to punch you right now, actually.”

Well, that was… something he could work with.

“Uh, alright. Go for it.”

Tommy looked taken aback. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I can’t really do anything else, so.”

“What’s the catch.”

“There’s no catch, Tommy. I promise not to punch you back,” Dream said with a weak smile. “That’d be kinda counterintuitive.”

“I don’t know what that word means.”

“Wouldn’t make sense for me to hit you.”

Tommy observed him through narrowed eyes before slowly approaching him. Dream didn’t move.

“And you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Of course I won’t, I’m letting you punch me.”

Which was a first for Dream, actually. He prided himself in his dodging abilities, in the way he’d drive anyone up the wall when they couldn’t land a hit on him no matter their efforts. That was his forte, the one thing he was best above everything. Infuriating to others, though. 

Oh, what his hunters wouldn’t do to be given this chance.

“Alright then,” Tommy mumbled, clenching his hand into a fist. “Hope this hurts.”

With that, he swung at Dream, and it took all of his self-control to not move out of the way. He decked him right across his cheek, barely missing his eye and sending him stumbling back from the force. Sharp pain spiked, and he gasped as stars spun.

Yup, definitely not a fan.

“It did,” Dream choked out a laugh, reaching up to touch the hit. It ignited, making him hiss. “You have quite the hook there.”

Tommy was cradling his own bruised hand, but he looked awfully pleased with himself.

“Thanks, Dream. That did make me feel better, actually.” Tommy appraised him. “Can I go again?”

“Whoa, maybe save it for next time,” Dream joked with a giggle, holding his hands up and backing away. “I feel like you’d actually break something.”

“Good. Maybe it’d make you look better.”

“Still. Don’t get too greedy.”

Tommy deflated, huffing, “Fine, you stingy bastard. I think you still owe me, like, five— no, six— no, maybe seven— good punches and maybe three kicks. If you let me kick you in the face I’ll count it as two, I’m generous like that.”

“W-Wait, how— How did we go from one hit to a whole fight?”

“Law of progression.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Dream said, though he couldn’t help but weakly grin. “How about we, uh, put a pin in that? Sleep on it?”

“You’re just a pussy, admit it.”

“I just think we shouldn’t be so rash about breaking my bones.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “And I think you shouldn’t be such a bitch, but here we are.”

“Okay,” he exhaled, quiet. “Still, maybe not today, alright?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna go now, actually,” Tommy said, glancing at the lava. “This place is shit, way too hot. Really dodged a bullet here.”

“Right... What does that mean?”

He rolled his eyes, muttering, “You’re so annoying.”

“Tommy, c’mon. Entertain me for a second here.”

Exhaling an over-dramatic sigh, Tommy turned to fully face him. “Really dodged a bullet having you thrown in here instead of me. Like you would have done. Y’know, if you would have won. Which you didn’t, because you suck. So there, happy?”

Dream grimaced at that. “Ah, yeah, that’s, uh— Definitely wouldn’t have been… good. Uh, sorry about that one, too. I guess.”

Tommy made mocking faces at him before he turned his attention away from Dream and called for Sam to let him out. Soon enough, the lava was lowered, and Tommy stepped onto the bridge. Before he went, though, he turned to Dream one last time, glowering.

“You better knock this stupid shit off the next time I come visit. If you don’t, I won’t come anymore, and then you’ll be all miserable. Which is good, by the way. You should be.”

With that threat ringing in the cell, Dream was left alone.

Chewing on his lip, Dream sunk to the floor next to a wall. Gently, he brushed across his cheekbone, the ache sharpening. That was definitely going to bruise like hell. But if it made Tommy feel better, well. What was a little pain for some peace of mind?

He almost laughed at himself. One conversation with another person, and he was already being undone. If he had friends, they’d make fun of him for sure. But since he didn’t, he had to cover the jeers himself.

The question remained, though—what was he supposed to do now?

Chapter Text

Three walls, a ceiling and a floor.

Some paper, some water, some wood. A clock.

And, of course, lava.

That was all Dream had to work with. Waiting around was never his forte, much less relying on someone else. Not that he thought he could get out of this mess without help. He was self-confident, not stupid. He’d wait for Ranboo, wait until he knew more about this situation, but it didn’t mean he had to wait doing nothing. 

So, Dream traced the walls. The obsidian closest to lava was hot to the touch; he’d almost burnt himself the first time he inspected it. It cooled, however, the farther in he went. The same with the ceiling and floor. 

Meaning, lava only covered the one side. Good to know that, in case something unfortunate happened to the walls, he wouldn’t drown in the stuff.

Then, air. Clearly, Dream hadn’t suffocated yet, and, if his minimal knowledge of human biology could be trusted, living in a fully closed off box for nearly a week meant he should have died by now. 

So, Dream put those books to good use—using lava to light pages up, he searched for a place where the smoke could go. Apparently, there was a sliver of an opening all along the furthest wall by the ceiling, not enough for even a finger to fit through. Still, better than nothing.

Maybe if he lit enough paper, the smoke could be visible from the outside, too. Risky, but potentially useful.

There was also that small latch in the corner of the ceiling, barely as wide as a palm. He hadn’t yet figured out what that was supposed to be for.

The clock was most fun to figure out. A glass face—oh, that was dangerous—and the mechanical parts. Dream needed to craft himself a makeshift screwdriver from a splinter of the table to get it open, but once inside, all the cogs and screws made him giddy. Even if he didn’t use any of it in the end, just playing around with the parts was a great way to get his mind off things (and he needed to get his mind off things).

In short, there wasn't a lot to work with.

Not that it mattered—Dream was not staying here for long.

...Where he would go once he was out was a matter for later. 

By the time Ranboo came back, Dream had measured every dimension of the cell to the inch and left none unexplored. Definitely not built with any leeway, near-perfectly secure, and any other time it’d be exhilarating. It’d been awhile since he’d faced a proper challenge, one that took all of his attention and one that tested just how far his limits were. Any other time, it’d make him feel alive. 

Now, though, it only caused desperation. He clung to all the various ideas, all the scenarios, each more outlandish than the last, all the ways he could break out, what he would do once he did, where he’d go—whatever to keep his focus away from the present.

However, as much as he wanted to be out of this cell and back on the run, the mystery of his predicament was eating him alive. And, truthfully—he glanced at his hands, another spike of anxiety running through him—just getting out of this prison wouldn’t be enough. There was so much wrong here that simply running away wouldn’t solve anything.

And he could deal with dozens of people who despise him, who have memories of a different him, who have relationships that Dream can’t remember. What he couldn’t deal with was this body.

Panic swelled up once more, and he had to shut his eyes and take deep breaths to not let it overcome him. Yeah, he’d much rather focus on all the patterns in the obsidian and the quiet ticking of the clock, even if the minutes stretched into infinity.

God, he really had to stop letting his thoughts wander.

When Ranboo came to visit again, having another person with him brought Dream comfort for the first time in years. Though doubts about Ranboo’s intentions never went away—ever-present at the back of his mind—they were pushed aside in favor of relief. 

Dream couldn’t afford to be picky. And besides, Ranboo was friendly enough. As long as that didn’t change, it’d be fine, for now.

Even if he tended to be a bit… unusual.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Ranboo looked up from his scribbling. “Hm?”

“You didn’t come sooner because you were… not you ?”

“Well, technicalities,” he said, shrugging. “Sometimes I’m just a different Ranboo. It happens.”

Dream stared at him.

Ranboo continued staring at him back.

“...That sounds awfully familiar, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo agreed, lips quirking up. “It’s actually pretty funny.”

“How is it— Ranboo,” Dream groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why am I only hearing about this now ?”

“Didn’t think it was important.”

“How is it not important?”

Ranboo cocked his head at him. “Because I’m still Ranboo. And you’re not Dream. It’s different.”

“But I am Dream.”

“The same body, maybe.”

A wave of unease rolled over him at that, and he barely concealed his recoil. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, dropping his hands. “My name is Dream, and— yeah, I look practically the same, but this is not my fucking body.”

“Oh?” Ranboo glanced back down at his book and noted something down. “You didn’t say that before.”

“Because I hadn’t—” Dream exhaled through his nose, slow and steady. Eyes closed for a beat. “I just hadn’t realized. Didn’t even— why would I even consider that?”

“Makes sense,” Ranboo mumbled, still writing.

“But I’m not crazy. I didn’t just…” He trailed off, frowning. “Wait. Can you even tell if I look like him? Your Dream, I mean?”

“Yes?”

“How? Don’t I wear a mask?”

“Not always,” Ranboo said, shrugging. “Lately more often, though.”

Oh, that was… unnerving.

It explained why neither Ranboo nor Tommy reacted to seeing him uncovered, though. Part of him screeched that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, but the other was relieved that he wouldn’t need to ever make that choice.

But this wasn’t his face, not really. So did it matter, in the end?

“That’s annoying,” he muttered. “But guess that confirms that, then.”

Ranboo stared at him for a beat longer. In thought.

“Did anyone else come to visit you?”

“Ah, yeah, uh, Tommy did. The one you mentioned. Yeah, that was… an experience,” he said, wincing.

“He always is,” Ranboo remarked. “And?”

“Well, I— I mean, I tried telling him I’m not… y’know, but it didn’t go too well.”

He nodded. “I’d imagine not. You two don’t have the best history.”

Dream was silent. There it was again, history. History that wasn’t his, but here, right now, that wasn’t important. It might as well be.

The threat Tommy made rang in his head.

“Why? What did I— What happened between us?”

Might as well start putting the pieces together.

Ranboo hummed and opened up a page in his book. Dream hadn’t yet asked what it was for—there were always more pressing matters at hand. Like when Ranboo started recounting certain events, spanning months that felt like years. Dream listened with morbid curiosity, as if hearing a fairytale, unconnected from the real world and unconnected from him. He heard about a nation—Ranboo couldn’t tell him much about that part—about alliances, about fights, about schemes, about an exile, and about how it all came crashing down.

At the end of it, silence rang with all of this… new information. Ranboo waited for his response, and Dream just continued looking somewhere to the side. Trying to wrap his mind about all of it. Trying to understand how all of it could be tied to his name and to his face.

It couldn’t. It wasn’t.

This was beyond memory.

...Dream wasn’t going insane.

“I didn’t forget about all that,” he finally spoke, still staring at a point in a wall. “I didn’t forget, because it never happened.”

Ranboo shifted his weight. “Dream—”

“No, Ranboo, listen to me,” he cut him off, desperation and a strange sense of anger rising. “It didn’t happen, because I couldn’t have done it. Amnesia doesn’t— It doesn’t make you change your whole personality. Because what you say I did? To all these people? To Tommy, who’s a fucking kid? I would never do that.”

Maybe he wasn’t the most moral person. Maybe he didn’t flinch at blood as much as he should. Maybe he knew how to cut down someone a bit too efficiently.

But that was the world they lived in. Survival of the fittest. Offence was the best defence, and when the attacks never stopped, well. You do what you have to to survive.

What Ranboo described? It wasn’t self-defence. It… Dream had no idea what it was, but it didn’t matter. There must have been a reason—Dream never acted without one—but a reason doesn’t equal an excuse. And Dream wasn’t about to look for one.

“Your Dream isn’t me. It physically can’t be.”

But if it wasn’t memory loss, the alternative was… much more concerning.

“Honestly, I believe that,” Ranboo said with a light chuckle. “You’re similar, but still very unlike him. So, sure, let’s say you’re not from this place.”

Yup, there it was.

“You say that so casually,” Dream laughed weakly. “I doubt anyone else would just… buy that.”

“Probably not, but I don’t care about the specifics. The fact remains you’re not our Dream.”

Dream paused for a moment. Pondering.

“And you’re just… fine with that?”

Ranboo tilted his head at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean— Like you said, I’m not your Dream. You don’t really have any reason to, y’know, be my ally.”

“Sure I do. I’d like to have our Dream back, so I want to help you figure this out for both of ours sake.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Dream admitted with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, that… makes a lot of sense.”

Ranboo beamed back at him, and the way he looked, so unbothered, as if they were discussing what to have for lunch was both comforting and a bit worrying. If all he said about this other Dream was true, then Dream couldn’t help but wonder… why did Ranboo want him back?

The nagging feeling from before was back, about how trustworthy Ranboo really was and about whether Dream wouldn’t be better off on his own, but he pushed it down. For now.

As long as he was friendly, it was a matter for a later time.

Speaking of the other Dream—

“Wait,” Dream started as a thought dawned upon him. “If I’m here, in your Dream’s body, would that mean that...”

“He’s in yours?” Ranboo finished, bringing a hand to his mouth as giggles rose. “Oh, that’s pretty funny. How bad is it?”

“I— Honestly, probably way better than this,” Dream huffed, turning and gesturing around. “At least I didn’t leave in the middle of getting fucking arrested. But, uh— should be fine, right? It’s just basic survival stuff and, well, I guess there are the hunters, but...” He frowned. “God, I wish he doesn’t kill any of them. I like my hunters.”

Ranboo just stared at him for a moment before shrugging.

“He should figure what’s happening, right? If he’s anything like me,” Dream remarked, then grimaced. “Then again, he doesn’t really sound... well.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ranboo said with a dismissing gesture. “Probably.”

He could only hope, really. It would really suck if this situation were to get fixed and he gets back to his life only to find out his wanted status now covered not four but twenty countries. That’d be a bit harder to work with.

“Anyway!” Dream began, spinning on his heel to fully face Ranboo. “That’s for later. One crisis at a time. Current one—this.” He gestured around. “I need to get out.”

Ranboo nodded as he opened his book and scanned through the pages, humming. Finally, he stopped with a sigh. 

“I can’t say whether Dream had any plan in mind for this… If he did, he didn’t tell me. But I don’t think he did.”

“How many prisons has your Dream escaped?”

“None, as far as I know.”

“Then he’s in luck.” Dream grinned. “If anyone can get out of this place, it’s me. I’ll need your help, though.”

Enough was enough.

Chapter Text

It had been a while since Dream had to use his rusty survival skills, and, frankly, it showed.

Cursing under his breath, he reassembled the rabbit trap for the third time-- the first two caught little more than a few stray leaves. He knew how to do it properly, he knew, he’d done it hundreds of times, but, admittedly, that’d been years ago. Right now, he had no more than the general idea of how these things should work, and putting the foggy pieces of memory together was… harder than he thought it’d be.

Oh, hadn’t that been a realization.

Going from having enough supplies to make any king drool to nothing but the clothes on his back and a bag full of chipped tools was, to put it lightly, annoying.

And, well, a bit concerning. Out of everything Dream had expected during the final confrontation, coming to in the depths of some ravine, body aching all over, no one around, had not been on the list.

Dream carefully pulled his hands away as he laid down his pitiful attempt at a trap by a bush. Third time’s the charm, right? He couldn’t afford to dawdle in one place for long. Unfortunately, that was something he had to learn the hard way, and something that he still got a headache from thinking about. 

It just… Nothing made sense. Even after weeks of trying to find out as much as he could. If anything, every new piece of information only added onto the confusion.

Where he was. How he ended up there. Why he didn’t have any of his items. Why posters of his face, listing a hefty reward, were plastered in various towns. Why the only people he’d had ever considered as friends were after it, no real recognition in their eyes, just some… detached hunger. He'd seen it before, but he'd always turned away before it could catch up with him.

Even his goddamn face was not… his own. Not really. He was Dream, that much was certain, all the slopes and angles were definitely his, but his hair was longer, old scars in places where they shouldn’t have been, body more fit for running than fighting (he never ran, sometimes they just had to think that—). Everything was wrong enough to be noticeable but not enough to belong to a stranger.

And that? The absolute unknown? A situation where everyone else had an upper hand over him? Oh, it drove Dream mad. 

To have everything one second and lose it all the next— Though, to be fair, a part of him nagged. That part would have stayed the same, wouldn’t it?

Dream reached up at his throat, a tightness tugging at his nerves from the memory of the last thought he had before waking up in this place.

Maybe it all would have gone as it should have. Or maybe he would have been a beat too slow.

Dream exhaled a shudder and got to climb a nearby tree. Whatever the case would have been, he would have figured it out. They would have figured it out. This, though? Oh, this threw a whole other type of curveball. Not that he wasn't used to dealing with curveballs.

Now, the only problem was figuring out where to even start.

Dream secured himself on a higher branch and fished out a worn-down notebook from his backpack. Whoever it belonged to before (he refused to think of them as himself, even if the handwriting was practically indistinguishable from his own) had kept notes about various topics, though none of them were particularly useful to him. Information about some countries—which to avoid and which were fine—how much certain things cost, remarks about the “hunters” (he still couldn’t get used to the word), and the like. There were some pages that read more like diary entries. Scattered and crossed out thoughts. Dream lingered most on those. They had a weird sense of familiarity to them, faraway and foggy, and left a sour taste in his mouth. He wished they’d been blacked out instead.

The most useful thing about the notebook were the empty pages. He tried to fill them as much as he could with everything he’d learned, to have it all in one place. Maybe then he could think clearer, maybe he could find something he was missing.

So far, he didn’t have much.

One of the first things he’d established was that this couldn’t be a memory issue. If it was, it would have to cover years, and Dream hadn’t looked a day older when he’d found himself in this place. So, that was probably not it. 

His life was just… not his own anymore. Things were different in a way that pure passage of time couldn’t explain. 

It wasn’t as if nothing of his old life remained, though. For one, he still looked like himself, more or less. For two, there were… others. People he knew. The most obvious example—George, Sapnap, and Bad. People that, despite having a long history with, now were nothing more than strangers wearing the faces of his ex-friends. The one time he’d tried to start some sort of conversation ended with him barely escaping with his life. He’d abandoned that idea quickly enough.

Even if they did have any sort of history with him, it was irrelevant. All Dream could do was keep running.

But then there were others, too. In one bar, he’d overheard some farmers discussing whether they should move back north now that General Wilbur had taken over the rule. They were enthusiastic about it; it sounded like Wilbur in this place was very much liked. And very much alive. As far as Dream was aware, he was the only one left with the knowledge of how to reverse death, so either someone else knew, too, or Wilbur, here, never died. Wouldn’t that be something. 

Still, Dream pulled a rueful smile at the memory. No matter what, Wilbur couldn’t stay away from politics, from leading people. Good for him. He supposed. Unless that would get him killed here, too.

Then he’d also heard a couple of pissed-off hunters—apparently that was some sort of profession here—complain that their target was, once again, snatched by “that thrice-damned Punz.” So, still a mercenary. The fact that the Punz of this… world wasn’t some baker but instead very similar to what Dream was familiar with, along with Wilbur and, to some extent, George, Sapnap and Bad implied that, while this wasn’t his life, it wasn’t fully foreign, either. They were still the same people, just with different circumstances.

That got him thinking. And that got him scouting wanted poster stands. Maybe, if luck was on his side, he’d find someone in the same situation as him. Whether that’d do him any good remained to be seen, but, hey, it was a start.

Dream set the notebook aside after noting the day’s findings and pulled the backpack into his lap. From it, he retrieved a couple of folded pieces of paper and smoothed them out. Two familiar faces stared back at him—not the most flattering depictions, he noted, amused—and he went over the information provided for the tenth time. It wasn’t much to work with, but Dream never had much to work with. That never stopped him before, and this time would be no different.

The trap set off and a high-pitched squeak reached him. Not a rabbit-like sound, but it still made Dream grin. 

He’d make it work.

~~~

Tracking down someone who knew they were being tracked was harder than he’d anticipated. 

Sure, Dream had found people that didn’t want to be found before, but they’d been amateurs, running for the first time in their lives, so it never took him too long to uncover their tracks. But someone who’d clearly been doing this their entire life? Well, that was another story entirely.

Multiple sightings in random town order. Paths that led nowhere. Tales so bizarre Dream had to sift through them for hours to get any kind of useful information. Instead of having no trails, there were so many that you didn’t have the faintest idea which to take. How he’d managed to pull that off was beyond Dream.

Luckily, he had the advantage of knowing his target in a way no other hunter did, so recognizing which crumbs to follow and which to leave alone wasn’t as much of an issue. Eventually, he found the right string, and then it became a simple matter of not losing it.

 Dream peered around the corner from his alley, scanning the dark street. Night had fallen and the town was growing quiet, people scurrying to get home. Well, most of them. Some were stumbling their way from bar to bar, boisterous laughter following. And some were moving from shadow to shadow, invisible to anyone with a less keen eye. 

This was the third night Dream was holding his stakeout, observing those ghosts. Anyone else would have given up by that point, moving on to the next town, but Dream was patient. He knew he was still here, hadn’t left yet, and all Dream had to do was wait him out.

Dream would give it a week before admitting he must have missed him.

Fortunately, that wasn’t needed.

When the street was almost fully empty, a tall figure emerged from one of the alleys, pointedly avoiding the dim lanterns’ light. They moved along some buildings before settling on a specific one. Kneeling down, they fumbled with the lock for a few moments until the door clicked open and they slipped inside. 

Dream grinned in self-satisfaction. Not many people would choose to rob a bakery in the middle of the night. Snatching food from street vendors during the day was more common—no one bothered with actually breaking and entering, it was kind-of overkill—but that strategy relied on being able to easily blend in with the crowd. His target, unfortunately, didn’t have that luxury.

Dream crossed the street, slipping into the shadows of a crook in the wall near the bakery, and waited. Soon enough, the figure left, and, after messing with the lock once more, they strode off, a sense of urgency in their step. Dream followed, but not without glancing back at the shop’s windows. The dim light caught the shimmer of coins on the counter, and Dream’s lips twitched in amusement. Not exactly a robbery, then. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

Dream trailed them through several streets, always keeping a safe distance, before they took a sharp turn into a narrow alley, where they descended some mossy stairs and disappeared inside a basement of sorts. 

Tentatively, Dream followed, pausing in front of a simple wooden door. His instincts were ringing alarm bells, but Dream knew this could turn south fast from the beginning. It’s never a good idea to approach anyone nearly as paranoid so out of the blue, but there was no other way of tackling this. Dream could only brace himself and trust his skills wouldn’t fail him (they never did before, this was the same, no different—).

With that thought, he pushed the creaking door open and stepped inside the dim room.

A bolt whizzed past his head and lodged into the wall next to it, making him freeze.

Off to a great start.

“Don’t come any closer,” a hiss sounded from further within, and Dream had to strain his eyes to make out the cloaked figure in the shadows, a crossbow aimed at his chest. Red and green glowed faintly in the dark, and, despite his predicament, Dream couldn’t help but feel some sense of self-accomplishment. He’d been right. 

Obviously.

Dream reached out behind him, slow.

“Don’t move,” Ranboo demanded, lifting the crossbow a bit higher. “I can and I will shoot you.”

“Relax, I’m just closing the door,” Dream spoke, quiet, as he clicked it shut. “Don’t want any unwanted attention.”

Ranboo huffed at that, mirthless. “As opposed to, what, wanted attention? Right.”

Despite his harsh tone, Dream could see the way his hands were trembling. He wasn’t a fighter—not by choice, anyway.

“You knew I was following you,” Dream commented after a pause.

“Yeah, one of the few good qualities I have,” Ranboo said, a tone of bitterness to his voice. “I can tell when someone’s looking at me. Or for me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dream said with a chuckle. “You’re very good at staying hidden. It was a nightmare, tracking you down.”

Ranboo wavered in his stance, exhaling a shuddering breath.

“I try for it to be,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But it’s never enough, is it?”

Now that Dream’s eyes were better adjusted, he could see Ranboo was wearing a mask over the lower half of his face, gloves to hide his mismatched hands, a hood up to do the same for his hair. It must be tiring always having to be aware of your appearance, knowing any slip up could cost you your life. His Ranboo never hid anything. He never needed to.

This world was different in many ways.

“Why can’t you people just leave me alone?” Ranboo spoke again before Dream could respond. His voice had gotten louder, desperation seeping into it. “I haven’t done anything! Please, I just— I just want to have a life, why is that so wrong?”

Yeah, being hunted down purely for existing was not an ideal lifestyle. From Dream’s stay here, he’d already gathered that hostile monster hybrids weren’t exactly loved by the public. The hatred and fear was one thing. Some learned to live with it; all they had to do was keep their head down, stay inside as much as possible and not cause any trouble. The other? That option wasn’t possible for everyone.

For example, to an enderman hybrid.

When Dream had first seen the reward offered for Ranboo’s head (dead or alive), he had to do a double-take. Almost twice as much as his own, and his bounty was already a small fortune.

Initially, Dream was confused why he wasn’t a hotter target. As it turned out, though, most people just… didn’t want to go after an enderman hybrid. Ironically enough, what made Ranboo so desirable for some was also what deterred others. The fear of the unknown, or something. Ha.

“The world’s cruel like that,” Dream said with a shrug. “The only way to survive is to just not be any less.”

“I am not going to be the monster you people think I am,” Ranboo retorted.

“You should be. But I know you’re not.” He paused. “You have the wrong idea, by the way— I’m not here for the reward.”

“Sure you’re not,” Ranboo scowled at him. “Not like you have your own bounty to buy off.”

Okay, well, Dream wasn’t aware he could do that. That’s a weird system.

He focused on another thing, though. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You’re not exactly an underground target, Dream.” Ranboo gestured to a wall with his head. Dream followed. It was covered with various wanted posters, his own among them. “I keep track of everyone that might be a threat.”

Dream smiled under his mask. That made sense.

“Only other targets would be desperate enough to go after someone like you, huh?”

“You tell me.”

“Again, I wouldn’t know,” Dream said, shrugging. “I’m not one of those threats.”

“Uh huh. Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to help you, Ranboo.”

That made Ranboo stagger back a step, his breath hitching. Even from afar, Dream could see the way his eyes blew wide, the shake in his hands strengthening.

“How— How do you—”

Monster hybrids didn’t have names, not to the public. Naturally, wanted posters didn’t either. That’d make them seem on par with humans. And they, humans, couldn’t have that. Obviously. It was the hybrids that were the monsters, not the ones that hunted them for sport.

“I know more than that,” Dream said, reaching into his backpack. He took out his notebook and a pen. “Not everyone’s out to get you, y’know.”

He opened a blank page and started scribbling. While his skills were shaky, it should be legible regardless, which was all he needed. Still, he really should have practised more when he had the chance.

Dream ripped the page out, folded it and slid it along the floor towards Ranboo. “Here.”

Ranboo looked between the note and Dream, refusing to move an inch, much less lower his crossbow. Dream sighed.

“Alright, how ‘bout I take off my weapons, then,” he said, unlatching his axe and other tools one by one. He threw them towards Ranboo as well. “Happy now?”

Ranboo stared at him, before slowly lowering his crossbow and kneeling down to take the paper. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the letters.

His grip on the note tightened, and he cast Dream a sharp look, one full of mistrust and bewilderment, but also something else. Dream pulled a smile. There it was. Curiosity.

“What is this?” he spoke, his voice unstable. “How can you—” He paused to take a breath. “Are… Are you..?”

“No. I just knew someone like you.”

“Like me?” He was barely audible by that point. “There’s— That’s impossible. They’re all… There isn't anyone else around.”

“So, what, I just taught myself? C’mon, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Where?” Ranboo demanded. “Where are they?”

A beat of silence passed.

“I don’t know where he is right now,” Dream said. Only a half-lie, really.

“Of course,” Ranboo muttered. He glanced back to the note. “So, you say you’re not my enemy. You still haven’t said why not.”

“People usually aren’t enemies by default,” Dream remarked.

“With me they are.”

“Fair enough.” He paused. “I’d imagine that’s very tiring.”

Ranboo shifted his weight, eyes flickering somewhere along the ground. “I haven’t really known anything else, so,” he mumbled.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Dream said, taking a small step forward. “I can help get you to safety.”

Ranboo exhaled a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “There’s no such thing as safety for me. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

“Not hard enough, then. Ever tried the End?”

The silence that followed rang with Dream’s words, and, for a few moments, all Ranboo did was stare at him, the outline of his open mouth visible even through the face mask.

“Dream, that’s—” A high-pitched laugh escaped him. “That’s beyond impossible. No one’s been there in— in— I don’t know, a millennium?” He shook his head. “It’s nothing more than a myth by now.”

“Not more of a myth than you are,” Dream said. He gestured at the note in Ranboo’s hand. “Or that language. It all had to come from somewhere.”

“Still— It’s not— It’s not just something you stroll into!” Ranboo threw his hand out. “What, are you trying to say you know a way in or something?”

“I do, actually,” Dream said, a grin tugging at his lips. “But I’d need your help. The End doesn’t reveal itself that easily to outsiders.”

Ranboo was silent. Eyes fixed somewhere to the ground, a distant look in them. Dream didn’t rush him. What he was proposing was ridiculous, and no sane person would actually sign up. That wasn’t something Dream himself was keen on doing, but, after having wracked his head for days, it was the best he could come up with that could maybe convince Ranboo to join his side. 

“You still haven’t told me what’s in it for you,” Ranboo spoke, not looking at him.

Dream hummed. “What I propose is an… allyship of sorts. I help you, you help me. Mutual benefit.”

“What could I possibly have that you’d want?” he asked, disbelieving.

Dream pondered for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much he was willing to say just yet. “For now, all I’d need is to have you by my side. Having an ally can be the difference between life and death, y’know.”

“...But that’s not your end goal.”

“No, it’s not. I can’t tell what that is yet.”

Ranboo sighed. He was quiet for a few seconds, before shaking his head.

“Thanks for the offer, Dream, but I’m good on my own,” he said, straightening. “I’ve survived just fine up until now without anyone’s help, and I don’t really want to take any chances. Especially not when you don’t even…” He trailed off. “And, I mean, seriously, the End? How would I survive long enough to see it?”

“Well, I’d protect you, obviously,” Dream said, squishing any tone of disappointment before it could leak through. It wasn’t surprising, but it wasn’t as if he ever gave up on the first hurdle. “But I understand why you’re hesitant.”

“Yeah, just— It all sounds a bit too good to be true,” Ranboo admitted with a weak chuckle. “Sorry, but I— I just can’t trust you. Nothing personal, but, you know.”

“I get it,” Dream said with a nod. “I probably wouldn’t trust it either. Still, though—” He fished out a couple of small crystal marbles. “If you ever change your mind or need my help, break this.” He rolled one of them towards Ranboo, who took it off the ground, curious. “That’ll tell me where you are.”

Ranboo examined the ball between his lanky fingers. Seeing as how Ranboo lowered his guard, Dream went to pick up his discarded weapons. Silence settled in the room, and Dream kept throwing glances to Ranboo, watching as his eyes darted from the crystal to the side, a distant look in them. 

His world’s Ranboo always loved to overthink. Sometimes, it was frustrating. Sometimes, well.

“These are really expensive, aren’t they?” Ranboo finally said.

“Ah, yeah, well,” Dream dragged as he secured his dagger to his hip. “Believe what you will, but I don’t actually want anything to happen to you, so.”

Nice and steady.

Ranboo hummed, eyes still on the marble. “Were you two friends?”

“Hm?”

“You and… the one like me,” he said with a vague gesture.

Dream paused. “Why do you ask?”

His gaze momentarily flickered to Dream. “I’m just… trying to figure out why you’d want to help me.”

“I already told you. Mutual benefit.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Dream tried to sound casual, focusing on readjusting all the little straps. They didn’t need to be. His hands just couldn’t stay still.

“It just… feels like there’s more to it.”

“Of course there’s more. But, like I said, I can’t tell you about it, not yet.”

“I guess,” Ranboo murmured, shifting on his feet. He looked uncomfortable. “Sorry for asking.”

“No, it’s—” Dream cut himself off, sighing. This was what happened when he didn’t talk to people for a longer while. He had to focus. “You’re fine, Ranboo. I was just surprised. To answer your question, I…” Dream faltered. He hadn’t really considered it before. Huh. “...don’t think so. But I trusted him, in a way. So there’s that.”

“And did he trust you?”

Dream looked at Ranboo. His eyes were curious, nothing but innocent interest, and yet something told Dream a lot would depend on what he answered.

A lie rested on his tongue. A twisted truth. So naturally pulled forward. Make them think what you want. Make them think what you need them to think. They wouldn’t understand. It was all for their own good, anyway—

What did Dream need him to think?

“...I don’t know,” he finally said. It sounded like an admission. “I… I’d hope so, though.”

Ranboo perked up at that, closing his hand over the crystal marble.

Dream turned towards the door, lifting a hand in a wave. “Well, good luck, then.”

“Um,” Ranboo started, stumbling forward a step. “Where— Where are you going to go now?”

Dream couldn’t help grinning. He hadn’t made a mistake.

“I mean, I do have my own hunters to get away from,” he remarked. “So somewhere north, probably. Hard terrain to navigate and all that.” Or so the maps told him. (There were other reasons, too.)

“Ah, yeah, makes sense,” he said with a nod. “I was also planning on heading somewhere up, so, um… I—I’m not accepting anything, I meant what I said, but, uh, I thought we could… for a bit… You know, go together. Until the next town, or something. No strings attached.”

Not what he wanted to get exactly, but close enough. A foot in the door kind of thing.

“No strings attached,” Dream repeated. “Sure, Ranboo. We can do that.”

Nice and steady.

Chapter Text

"What is that, anyway?"

Ranboo paused his scribbling and looked up. “Hm?”

Dream gestured at him from where he was reassembling the clock for the millionth time. He said it helped him think. Ranboo had heard that before. “That book. What’s it for?”

“Oh.” He glanced down at it. “This helps me remember things.”

“Ah yeah, you did say you have, uh, memory issues, or something,” Dream remarked. A cog was spinning between his fingers. He wasn’t paying any attention to it.

“It’s a bit complicated,” Ranboo said, pulling a half-smile. “More like, it can get hard keeping everything in mind.”

Close enough.

“Mhm, I get that,” Dream said with a nod. “I like to write stuff down, too, sometimes.” A pause. Dream had that look in his eye. And so Ranboo waited. 

“How come Sam lets you take it with you?”

“Oh, it’s pretty funny, actually,” Ranboo chuckled. “I have a lot of these memory books since the other me does genuinely forget things. Everyone knows about it, so I just asked Sam to let me have it with me.”

Sometimes, the Other him was inconvenient. Sometimes, not as much.

Dream hummed, in thought. “How thoroughly does he check it?”

The cog was twisting quicker.

“Not at all, actually.”

Dream blew a breathy laugh. “Oh wow, that is… incredibly irresponsible. Here I was thinking he was taking his job seriously.”

“I think he just has a soft-spot for me.” Or, well, something along those lines.

“But I’m guessing he doesn’t know that it’s… Uh, you, who’s coming here.” He pulled a face. “Which I’m still really confused about, by the way. You haven’t really  explained any of it.”

“Mhm. That’s true.”

Dream stared at him, eyes narrowed, as if he’d bitten a lemon and couldn’t decide how to handle it. Ranboo missed that expression—his own Dream had long since figured the bitterness out.

“...So?”

“So what?” Ranboo tilted his head at him.

Dream looked like he wanted to say something, but, in the end, he only huffed out a quiet breath and glanced away, mumbling, ”Okay, nevermind.”

The corner of Ranboo’s lips twitched upward. It was the little details. Maybe a different shade, but still familiar.

His own Dream had the habit of being amusing, too.

“Well, anyway,” Dream said louder than necessary, getting to his feet. “If Sam’s not checking your book, we could totally use that.”

Ranboo nodded. “What are you thinking?”

Dream cast him an odd look. A moment later, he shook it off. The little details.

“You said I— uh, the other me, commissioned this place?..” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I really don’t get what kind of system you guys have here if you can just randomly build fucking prisons,” he grumbled, starting to pace. He had a hard time staying still, it seemed. “But whatever. I should have… plans, then, right? Somewhere?”

“Of the prison?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm, you probably do,” Ranboo said, in thought. The prison was one of the things Dream tended to keep quiet about to him. “I’ve never seen them, though.”

“Still, do you have any idea where they could be? I mean, if they even exist.”

“I can think of a few places.” Though his Dream did have too many bases. Better safe than sorry, he’d say. “Do you want me to bring you them?”

Dream pulled a sheepish smile, wringing his hands. “That’d really help, honestly. I have a few ideas, but— They kinda depend on me knowing how likely they are to kill me. Having plans would, uh, make those odds less depressing.”

“How depressing are they now?”

“...Pretty depressing.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out,” Ranboo started, shrugging. “We’ll just try again.”

Dream paused. All but froze in place, really. On some level, it looked pretty funny.

“I mean, I’d be kinda dead if it doesn’t work out,” he said with a nervous laugh, stammering a bit. “You know?”

“Yeah, I understood.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, though. You have failsafes.”

Ranboo liked the way it was so easy to make this Dream at a loss for words. He fought to suppress a smile at it.

“Uh… Sorry, what?”

“It’s not important,” Ranboo said, looking away from Dream in favor of his book. He started flipping through it with a hum. “I’m not sure how I’d make the map fit without it looking suspicious, honestly.”

“You could just… It has hard covers, so inside them, maybe…” Dream stumbled his way through the sentence, voice growing quieter by the word. His face kept twisting in different directions as he mouthed silent words, until he shook his head as if trying to chase something away, stuttering, “What— What do you mean ‘it’s not important’?”

“Yeah, but how? Do I peel off these pages and jam it in between?” Ranboo wondered, picking at the glued-on corners.

“Ranboo!”

He glanced up. “What?”

Dream was gaping at him. “You can’t just— I mean— What—” With a groan, he dragged a hand down his face. “Gods, you’re lucky I’m mildly terrified of you,” he muttered.

Ranboo couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter at that. Dream didn’t keep many thoughts to himself, did he? 

“Only mildly?” he asked, folding his arms, cocking his head to the side. “Hm. I’ll have to work on that, then.”

“Please don’t,” Dream all but pleaded, voice mildly muffled by his hand. A moment passed, he sighed, and let it drop. “Just— Yeah, you could try that,” he said, quiet. Defeated, almost.

Ranboo looked back down at his book. “Hiding the map between the covers and their pages?”

“Yeah. Like, making these little pockets. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, you’ll figure it out.”

“Alright. That’s assuming I can find the plans.”

Dream side-eyed him. “Can you?”

Ranboo smiled at him. “I can do whatever you want me to do, actually.”

Curiously enough, that earned him a frown. “Uh, sure… But that’s not really what I asked.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes. “Yes, if they exist, I can find them.”

“Good. That’s— Yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

“No, not really,” he said with a wince. “But I also, uh, wouldn’t want to put you in danger ‘cause of this. I’m not sure how Sam would react if he found out. So, I don’t know, maybe I can think of some other way—”

“I’ll bring it,” Ranboo cut him off. “And he won’t find out. You’re underestimating me.”

“I— I’m not— Okay,” he breathed out. It sounded like it was more to himself. “Okay! That’s good. I just—” He paused, shutting his eyes momentarily.  “Really want to do something already.”

Dream could never stay still, in more than one way. It was one of the things that both intrigued and amused Ranboo. He was an open book and yet an enigma at the same time, no matter the version. It was interesting, seeing all the ways the two differed. And all the ways they didn’t.

Still, his smile fell as the lava lowered and he turned to the platform. This one wouldn’t get Ranboo what he wanted.

So, all the little details didn’t matter, in the end.

~~~

The nightmare made the fog worse. It made it come quicker. More abruptly. One step he was still above, the next he was under. The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, but always unwelcomed. Sometimes, he didn’t mind. Sometimes, he did.

This fell into the latter category.

He could tell Dream was looking at him, saying something, but the thick mist made it difficult to react. Out of all the times it could have hit him, this was, quite literally, the worst.

It was like holding on to wet bars. You can try, for awhile, but gravity was unforgiving, and eventually, everything fell victim.

If he lost his grip now, though, it would jeopardize the entire plan. He couldn’t afford to let go, even if his nerves screeched in pain. Then again, there was nothing quite like it to help him focus.

The pounding was annoying, though.

Dream had gotten closer. He snapped his fingers in front of Ranboo’s face, and for a heavenly moment, he could think again.

“What?”

“What do you— Are you okay?” Dream asked. He was doing something with his face. Frowning, maybe.

“Yeah, of course,” Ranboo said, clearing his throat. Moment to moment.

“You sure? ‘Cause you were just… completely out of it for a minute there.”

“Mhm, I do that sometimes.” The words were somewhere outside of him. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

Dream stared at him for a few seconds more before turning away. Ranboo imagined his expression had to be odd. It was difficult to say.

“I said—” Dream started, slow, as he went to the table where the clock was laid. He picked it up, casting Ranboo another glance. It had to be odd. “Are you sure it’s not on yet?”

It took Ranboo a beat to attach sense to the question.

Right, they were… in the middle of something. “...Yes, I’m sure.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m not incompetent, Dream.” 

Dream winced at that. Huh. He hadn’t meant to bite.

Focus .

“I never said you’re— Listen, I just want to be extra careful,” he said with a sigh.

“Uh-huh, I can see,” Ranboo drawled. “There’s careful and there’s paranoid, though.”

“I’m not paranoid if I don’t want to blow up,” Dream huffed. He gestured towards him. “And you’re still here, too! Seriously, when are you gonna leave already?”

That again.

“I don’t think I should, Dream,” Ranboo remarked, crossing his arms. “I can help.”

“Yeah, no way,” Dream dismissed him with a frown. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“If it’s that dangerous, why are you going through with it?”

Dream played with the clock in his hands, looking somewhere to the side. Awkward. Maybe. “It— In theory, it should be fine,” he mumbled. “And everything else I had in mind just, uh… Yeah, not so fine. Just— listen. ” He groaned, throwing his head back. “I don’t exactly have much to work with, alright?”

“I’m not judging, but you’re wasting time with your worrying,” Ranboo said. A deep breath. Slow and steady. “Even if it’s not on yet, it’ll be soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just— Ugh, whatever,” Dream mumbled. He stared at the face of the clock. “Exactly twelve, right?”

“Yes.”

“According to this?” He tapped at the device.

“Yes. I wouldn't mix that up.”

“Okay. Good. Yeah,” Dream said, nodding. “Five till twelve. Okay.” He flipped the clock over and cast Ranboo a look. “You really should get out now. Seriously.”

He kept saying that. Kept wanting to make Ranboo go. Insisting he’d make it work on his own.

Ranboo only hummed. His vision was getting hazy. The sounds muffled.

He wanted to sleep.

Not now. Not yet. He tried focusing on the heat behind him. Anything that he could feel. Maybe he should move closer.

Or maybe he should listen to Dream. Maybe he should go while he still could.

But here was the issue.

He didn’t doubt Dream wanted to get out. He doubted Dream wanted to get out enough. If he did, he wouldn’t be asking Ranboo to leave. He wouldn’t be rambling about “danger” and Ranboo’s “safety”. He’d realize he’d never make it work without him.

That was this plan’s biggest flaw.

Ranboo’s eyes traveled to the chest. Soon, his legs carried him there, too. Where Dream kept the glass shards.

If Dream stayed trapped here, they’d never figure anything out. They’d never undo whatever had been done and Ranboo would be stuck with this Dream. He couldn’t afford that. Not now.

This plan had to work. Ranboo had to make sure it did.

He had to make sure the flaw was taken care of.

Maybe the fog could be turned into something useful.

Ranboo bit the inside of his cheek enough to draw blood. Anything to focus on. A bit longer.

“Dream,” he called. He thought Dream glanced back at him. “Can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what is it?” he asked as he fiddled with the insides of the clock.

“Take my book.” He extended it toward him. A pen, too. “I want you to write something in it.”

Ranboo wasn’t sure when Dream got close enough (could have been an hour or a second), but eventually he took hold of the items. It seemed slow.

“Uh, alright. What do you want me to write?”

“Go to the first page.”

A bit of shuffling.

“Okay… Wait, what language is this?” he asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write what I say.”

The pen clicked on after a beat.

“Go for it.”

“A colon,” he breathed out. “And a closing bracket.”

Half a second of scribbling. “Is that all—”

Ranboo snatched the book back and shut it. “Yes, that’s all.”

Dream blinked owlishly at him.

“Wh— What was the point of that?”

“Not important,” he said as he pocketed it. Never anywhere far.

“Uh, y’know, I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” Dream said with a stilted chuckle. “Can’t you just— tell me something?”

“Mm, don’t feel like it. Are you done already?” Ranboo asked, gesturing to the clock with his head.

Dream had his mouth open mid word for a beat before his shoulders slumped. “I— Yeah, almost.”

“Finish it.”

“I will after you—”

“Finish it now, Dream.”

Not long.

He closed his eyes and waited. Breathe in, breathe out. Tingles were already settling in at his fingertips from the strain. At any moment, he could slip.

“Okay, I have everything, now can you please leave?”

Ranboo tried blinking the haze away. He glanced over to the chest and picked up a long, thin shard. Careful not to cut himself.

“Will this do?” he asked.

“I— Yeah? Ranboo—”

“Where should it go?”

Dream was silent for a couple of beats, staring at him, mouth not fully closed. He probably had that lemon look again.

“It’s… here,” he finally said, slowly, as he tapped on the left lower part of his abdomen. Ranboo followed the movement with his eyes.

“And it won’t kill you?”

“No, it’ll just look messy and hurt like a bitch,” Dream chuckled, awkward. “Unless, y’know, Sam leaves me to bleed out.”

“That wouldn’t be good,” Ranboo remarked, barely above a whisper.

“...Uh-huh.” A pause. “Okay, that’s enough.” He looked up at the intercom. “Sam!”

Last moments.

Now or never.

Ranboo stepped closer and grabbed Dream’s shoulder, making him turn his attention back to him. Before Dream could say anything, though, Ranboo plunged the shard into his body.

A choked gasp caught in Dream’s throat and his hands flew to latch onto Ranboo’s. He didn’t let go. Somewhere at the back of his head he realized his palm was burning. Good. It should be.

“Wh— H— You—” Dream stammered, pained breaths cutting off his words. “Why did you—”

Ranboo leaned in closer. “I’m showing you how to use me.”

He couldn’t tell if Dream said anything else.

A beat later, he was under.

…

These parts weren’t always annoying. Sometimes, it was nice to just watch. Observe. Whisper things. See the influence his words had. 

Sometimes, though, it was frustrating.

He felt more than heard the scream in his lungs. The stumble back, the frantic glances all around, the stream of incoherence. The bewilderment, the horror, the growing panic. Like tasting something with a frozen mouth. Barely there.

Dream had dropped to his knees. Maybe he should have warned him, but Dream would never have agreed. Ranboo had to take the initiative. Dream would thank him later on.

The only worrying part about this was Ranboo’s unpredictability. He could only hope he’d play his part right, but he had no control over it anymore. The recent nightmare should prove to be useful, though. With any luck, it would skewer his judgement like he wanted.

It didn’t take long for Sam to reach the cell after the initial scream, not when Ranboo couldn’t shut up. He tried to speak, he could feel it, but nothing made sense. The panic was borderline too much, and now crippling fear at the sight of Sam added onto it. He watched as Sam knelt next to Dream and inspected the wound, his eyes shooting up at Ranboo a moment later. He demanded to know what had happened. Ranboo took another step back and insisted he didn’t know. 

Sam asked why he was bleeding.

Only then did Ranboo realize his hand was cut open, red oozing out of it. Panic spiked once more, and he struggled to breathe. This didn’t seem real to him. Of course it couldn’t have. When in doubt, cry that it wasn’t happening.

Sam cursed, saying he needed to get Dream to the infirmary immediately. A healing potion wouldn’t be enough. Maybe Ranboo had overdone it. He could barely see anything by the end of it; it was more than possible his aim was off. Well. If it got Dream out of the cell and didn’t kill him, who’s to complain, really?

It took Sam a couple tries to get Dream on his feet. He ordered Ranboo to follow them. Too terrified to say anything anymore, Ranboo forced his shaking legs to move. For a moment, he worried if he wouldn’t faint. That’d be a pain to work with. But he managed to stay up and trail after the two. He kept repeating in his head how this wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. It was just another nightmare. Any second he’d wake up, back at his house. Ranboo let these thoughts flow without a comment. 

Eventually, they reached the infirmary, a small room with only the bare necessities, and Sam got Dream onto the table. Dream had his eyes shut tight, breaths quick and shallow. Sam told Ranboo to stay put and wait while he worked on stopping the blood. Ranboo could only nod, frozen in place.

He was clinging onto his mantra like a lifeline. When you don’t have all the pieces of the picture, it’s easier to make the missing ones up than actually look for them.

As Sam dealt with the wound, he kept throwing glances at Ranboo.

Eventually, he asked what happened, again.

And, again, Ranboo said he didn’t know. His throat was dry. It was painful to speak. But he kept saying he didn’t know anything. Kept insisting he had no idea how he'd even gotten here. Kept claiming this all had to be a nightmare.

Sam, of course, said Ranboo had come here by himself. Had been coming for days. Ranboo denied it, shaking his head, so much his vision swayed. Sam was lying. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been.

Sam fell silent for a moment. Said he’d deal with him later.

He couldn’t make sense of anything and his racing heart didn’t help, either.

You know where to look for an answer.

A shiver ran down his spine. The weight in his jacket’s pocket grew heavier. Ranboo rested his hand over it.

It was just his memory book, right?

Is it?

How could it not be?

He sneaked inside the pocket and took the notebook out. It felt the same. Looked the same. Somehow, it still made him uneasy.

Ranboo glanced at Sam. Still busy with Dream. Biting his lip, he flipped the book open.

The first page greeted him.

For a moment, his breathing stopped.

…

Slowly, Ranboo exhaled. He shut his book, quiet, and pocketed it again.

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath.

Somehow, it worked. In theory, he knew it would, but, with these things, it was never certain. And, honestly, the Other should be grateful. Next time he woke up, he’d be far away from this place. Probably without any memory of it, too.

Ignorance was bliss, so, really, the hate Ranboo kept getting didn’t feel deserved.

“He should be fine,” Sam muttered. Ranboo glanced at him. He was already bandaging the wound. Dream didn’t look conscious anymore. All that blood loss coupled with potions could knock anyone out. “You could have killed him, though. You realize that?”

“I don’t know what happened,” he repeated his previous words. Make them quieter? “I— I blacked out. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I don’t know why I… I don’t know.”

 Sam looked up at him, scowling. “That’s a serious issue then, Ranboo. Has something like this happened before?”

“No, I— I’ve never attacked anyone before,” he murmured. “I think he— He said something, and I freaked out, but I don’t remember why now.”

The frustration was rolling off of Sam in waves. “I’ll have to ask Dream about it, then. When he wakes up.”

Ranboo cast his eyes to the ground, shifting his feet. “I’m really sorry,” he whispered, wringing his hands together. That irritated his cut, though, and he yelped, cradling it.

Sam sighed and beckoned Ranboo to come closer. Slowly, he complied.

“Let me have a look at that,” Sam spoke, taking hold of his injured palm. “Doesn’t look too deep. You should be alright with just some cleaning and bandages.”

Ranboo nodded, but before he could take back his hand Sam already got working on it. He didn’t object, although the alcohol stung.

Silence settled in the room. Ranboo threw the occasional look at Dream. He was a bit ashen, but other than that, he seemed okay. That was a relief. Now that Ranboo had a clearer mind, guilt did gnaw at him a little. He’d definitely been too violent—and without any warning, too. Dream would understand, though. He’d realize quickly enough he’d needed Ranboo there as damage control. To keep Sam from thinking he was planning anything. Take the blame, avert the attention from Dream.

And, if need be, stir any conversation where it needed to go.

“What do you two even talk about?” Sam spoke up after awhile, letting go of his bandaged hand.

Ranboo held it to his chest. “Just… stuff. This and that. I thought I didn’t have to tell you.”

“Well, no, you don’t, but—” Sam was cut off by the loud, prolonged explosion that rang through the entire prison.

Ranboo held in a grin. There it is.

Sam jumped to his feet. “What the hell was that?!”

“I— I don’t know,” Ranboo whispered, keeping his tone afraid. “Did— Did something explode?”

“There’s nothing that can explode,” he snapped. “Not in the prison, anyway.”

Sam quickly looked between Ranboo and Dream. He cursed.

“How are you feeling right now?” he asked as he retrieved some chains from the wall.

“Uh, fine, I think. Mostly.”

“Can I trust that you won’t do anything if I leave you in here for a bit?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I promise, I— I’m good now.”

“Alright,” he said as he secured Dream’s hands together above his head and to the table. “He should be out for awhile longer, but in case he wakes up, do not talk to him.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t.”

Sam locked the chains and pocketed the key. He crossed the room in a couple of strides before stopping in the doorway and looking back at Ranboo.

“Do not go anywhere.”

Ranboo nodded, and Sam was off.

So far, everything was going well.

He waited a bit longer before rounding the table. He knelt next to it by Dream’s head so he would be eye level with him. It would take awhile for Sam to figure out what had happened, so they had time. Still, though, Ranboo prefered not to waste any. 

If whatever Dream had planned next worked out, the next time they’d meet up would be outside. After this, Sam wasn’t going to let Ranboo anywhere near the prison, that much was obvious.

He took hold of Dream’s shoulder and gently shook it.

“Dream?”

No response.

“Dream,” he dragged it out. “Wake up.”

A groan sounded in his throat. Ranboo smiled. Progress.

He shook him harder. “C’mon, wake up.”

Eventually, Dream’s eyes fluttered open and he hissed at the light.

“Welcome back,” Ranboo greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he croaked. He turned his head as much as he could to look at Ranboo, squinting his eyes at him. A moment later, they grew wide. “Ranboo! ”

“What?”

“You stabbed me!”

“Good to hear your memory’s fine.”

“You— Fuck, ” he gasped in pain as he twisted his body too much. “W—Why the hell did you do that?”

“You were going to do it yourself anyway so I thought I’d help out.”

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Ranboo said with a shrug. “Not that I’m asking for forgiveness. It worked out, so.”

“Gods, Ranboo, you can’t just do that,” he snapped. “Isn’t this gonna get you into a lot of trouble?”

That was what Dream was upset about? He couldn’t be serious.

Though, on the other hand, it made sense. If Ranboo himself got locked up, he’d be useless to Dream. That would surely make him annoyed.

“Sam’s not going to do anything to me. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” he said, frowning. His face scrunched up once more. “Fuck, you really didn’t hold back, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to go that deep.”

“It’s fine, but, seriously, why’d you think that was a good idea?”

“It makes the situation look less suspicious,” he explained. “And Sam won’t be as likely to suspect foul play. And you can’t have any attention on yourself. It’s what the other Dream would have done in this case.”

“I’m not him, though, am I?” Dream scowled. “I’m not gonna risk anyone else’s safety in exchange for mine.”

Ranboo was silent for a beat.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” he said, quietly. “It doesn’t matter now. The plan worked. The gas exploded.”

Dream sighed, letting his head roll back. “I wasn't sure if the lava would be enough to set it off.”

“Mhm. You know what you’ll do next?”

“Yeah. Hopefully I won’t take too long to heal. That’d be a nightmare to work around.”

It would be unfortunate if all this effort went to waste.

Sam didn’t come back for awhile. Ranboo waited patiently, the occasional comment filling the silence. Eventually, he picked up approaching footsteps. Dream exhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. Good, the longer he had to gather his thoughts, the better.

Sam entered the room and the tension was instant.

“Something blew the vents to hell,” he hissed, and, for a moment, Ranboo was reminded of Sam’s nature.

“All of them?” he asked.

“No, just one of the systems,” he huffed. “The main cell was connected to it, too. Goddammit.”

“What… does that mean, then?”

“It means until I can get it fixed, all of those areas are unusable,” he growled. “And, to make matters worse, the inside of all of them are blown up, too.”

Ranboo didn’t respond for a few moments. Thinking. “So… The explosion reached the cell as well?”

“Yes, practically nothing besides the walls survived.”

“Do you think…” He paused, casting a glance at Dream. “Someone tried to kill him?”

Sam arched a brow at him. “Besides you, you mean?”

Ranboo winced. “I told you, it wasn’t intentional. This seems like, well, it was.”

Sam sighed, bringing a hand to rub at his temple. “You’re probably right. I’ll have to look more into it, but… it seems like you’re right.”

“What are you going to do with him, then?”

“I have to think about it, but I’ll probably put him in one of the holding cells for now. This was the last thing I needed to deal with right now,” he grumbled, and glared at Ranboo. “And you are to stay away from the prison, got it?”

Ranboo quickly nodded. “Yeah, that’s— Uh-huh, I will.”

Sam held his glower for a beat more before he turned away, muttering to himself.

Well. From here, it was out of Ranboo’s hands.

He could only hope Dream knew how to use his.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing everyone knew from the moment they could walk, was that you should never travel during the night.

Ranboo, being the rebel that he was, chose to ignore that one very simple rule.

It made sense, of course. Dream was just bitter. Why would Ranboo want to risk getting seen by anyone during the day when he could easily slip past everyone’s eyes in the dark, especially when monsters had a… unique aversion to him? Being nocturnal had many benefits for someone as Ranboo, Dream got that.

Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

Still, though, he didn’t argue. They’d do things Ranboo’s way, at least for now. Anything could scare him off at this point, and if it was something as stupid as which better time of day to travel was, Dream would never let himself live it down.

Even if it meant going against his instincts.

Back home (if he could still call it that), monsters were rarely an issue. High walls, bright lands, and glowing armour did wonders against the world’s casual threats. Maybe that was why Dream had never realized the extent to which dark wasn’t that big of an issue. It was almost terrifying, to some degree. How a zombie would hack towards Ranboo, growling and biting, before swerving out of his way as soon as a few meters separated them. Ranboo didn’t even bat an eye at it. Dream would be more fascinated by it if the monsters didn’t swerve his way instead.

At least Ranboo had the decency to look awkward about it.

By the time the sun came up after the first night, Dream was more than ready to drop dead in some hole and sleep for a good twelve hours. His stamina was great—really—but it wasn’t often he had to travel through a goddamn forest when there were mobs around every other tree. Ranboo didn’t say anything despite the obvious discomfort, and Dream didn’t comment either. Not like he couldn’t handle it. Besides, it was a good… outlet.

Huh.

“Maybe we should start looking for shelter,” Ranboo spoke up after several long hours of silence. 

“Yeah, alright,” Dream said with a nod. Now that the birch forest they were traversing was engulfed in soft light, the sun barely peeking through, he could let his nerves relax. “What time do you usually sleep, anyway?”

Ranboo tightened the cloak around him, glancing away. “I… don’t, really,” he murmured.

Dream side-eyed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, well, I do sleep, just not— not a lot.” He cleared his throat. “Here and there. Usually during the night, too. Safer that way.”

“And what do you do during the day, then?” he asked, nonchalant.

Ranboo shrugged. “Nothing, really. I just find a place to hide and wait it out.”

“Huh. That sounds painfully boring.”

“You get used to it,” Ranboo remarked, and Dream could hear the weak smile in his voice. He cast him another glance. Ranboo had yet to take his mask or hood off. Fair enough. “Besides, you can still find plenty of things to do. Oh, I got this the other day—” He shuffled through his pocket and retrieved some sort of padlock. “And I’ve been dying to try it out. People use warded locks the most, which is very weird since they’re actually really easy to pick. If you have enough skeleton keys you can pick practically any lock like that, and all you need to make a skeleton key is just some random key and a good file, and boom. 

“But this one’s a lever tumbler lock—” He tapped on the padlock, and Dream could see the outline of a grin in his mask. “Which can also be easy to pick if there’s only one lever, but this one has five of them, so you actually need to know what you’re doing. There are many different techniques for it but the simplest one makes it so you can’t relock it, which I find really…” Ranboo looked down at Dream, the glimmer in his eyes freezing. “Interesting...” he trailed off. His shoulders hunched and he quickly tore his eyes to the ground, dropping the lock back into his pocket. “Uh, sorry.”

Dream stared at him for a moment longer before also glancing back to the road.

He didn’t know much about locks. He did like to play around with mechanical machines, though. Pick them apart, find out how they tick, and then try to put them back together. Like a puzzle. He wondered if lockpicking was like a puzzle, too.

He almost asked. 

Bitterness bit his tongue, though, so he kept it back.

Ranboo was being careless. He didn’t know Dream, and yet he had just revealed to him, a complete stranger, he had an interest, something he cared about. Dream had thought Ranboo, living the life that he was, would know better than that.

If they’d been anyone else in any other place, Dream would have reprimanded him for such stupid behavior.

As it stood, though, he only quietly filed the information away.

They walked in awkward silence for awhile longer, Dream watching out for any remaining monsters that hadn’t yet retreated to their crevices while Ranboo mumbled something under his breath, too quiet to hear. As much as Dream pretended he was fine, he could tell his vigilance was dropping by the minute, and he was about ready to settle down where they stood. Eventually, though, a small shack peaked through the trees down a hill, and Dream exhaled a relieved sigh. They weren’t far from the nearest town by now, so he’d been hoping to find some remnants of civilization soon.

Luckily for them, it was empty, though nothing much of use remained. Ranboo immediately found a shadowy corner to curl into, out of sight from any window, and started rummaging through his pack. Dream dropped his own on a battered table and stretched his sore muscles. By now, he hadn’t slept for more than a full day, bordering on two, and there was only so much his body could take. Still, though, he got a couple of cloths and a sharpening stone from his bag, determined to get everything done before resting.

“Where are you going?” Ranboo asked as Dream headed for the door.

He gestured at his bloodied weapons. “I need to get these cleaned. There’s a small pond in the back, so I’ll be there if you need me.”

Ranboo nodded and resumed his search, finally retrieving a small paper bag. He took out what looked like some dried berries, but, before he could do anything with them, his eyes found Dream’s, waiting. Dream turned away and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

There was some dry humor in the way Ranboo hid his face from him. 

It felt off.

Dream dropped onto the ground by the water, unlatching his weapons one by one. The murky blood had dried by now, and already Dream could tell he wouldn’t have a fun time scrapping it all off. Still, the sooner he’d get it done, the quicker he’d be able to sleep, and that was enough incentive to get started.

His mind played back Ranboo’s short ramble, and Dream scowled at himself. He should have pushed it. Wasn’t the whole point to keep Ranboo talking, to lower his guard, to open up? Wasn’t the whole point to convince him to stay close? They’d been travelling together for over a day, and, sure, Dream had barely spoken, but it’d been mostly night. He could excuse that. But what excuse was there for letting such a perfect opportunity slip? Dream had such little time to work with, and he was wasting it.

All because of, what?

Because Ranboo spoke of something he enjoyed like it was something to be embarrassed about rather than something to make him vulnerable? Like it was nothing? Like he couldn’t imagine it turning against him, because, surely, no way would someone use something as innocent as a tool to get what they want?

...If he’d wanted, Dream could have created more opportunities before, too, though.

And he didn’t, because of, what?

(Ranboo didn’t show his face and yet Dream could imagine too well how it turned and twisted.)

Ranboo didn’t know Dream. 

...It was about time Dream started treating Ranboo as a stranger as well.

Dream paused with the wet cloth over his axe. For a few seconds, he didn’t move, listening. Nothing but the chirping of early mornings and whistling wind filled the place, but Dream’s body wouldn’t relax. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the weapon and glanced around. Nothing out of the ordinary. A squirrel running up a birch, some bird jumping from one branch to another. Still, he couldn’t shake this uncomfortable tingling at the top of his spine.

Maybe it was just exhaustion. Lack of sleep and fighting could do weird things to the mind.

He resumed his cleaning. With the blood washed away, he moved onto sharpening the blades. A swipe on the stone, pause. Nothing. Another. Any little sound ticked him off and yet none that could signify anything of interest. Another swipe. A shiver racked his body and he snapped up, tugging the crossbow into his hands in less than a second.

Again, nothing. Quiet. Dream didn’t trust it. Cautiously, he side-stepped from his discarded weapons along the shore, eyes flickering all around. He’d always been on guard, even back home, even when he hadn’t needed to be, and this world only dialled it to eleven. Maybe he was being paranoid. But everything was too still. And his nerves were too high-strung. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t alone.

Some rustling came from behind and Dream whipped around, crossbow aimed and ready, only to slump down as he was met with his very frightened companion.

“Sorry!” Ranboo called, hands up. “I— I didn’t mean to sneak up.”

Dream lowered his weapon, the tension slowly seeping away. “It’s fine,” he sighed. “My bad. I’m a bit on edge, sorry,” he said, combing back some stray locks. He should seriously get his act together.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Ranboo remarked with a stilted chuckle. “I really think you should rest, you look exhausted.”

“I feel like it, too,” Dream muttered, straightening. “Did you want something?”

“Uh, I just wanted to ask if you…” He fumbled with his hands, looking somewhere to the side. “...had food to eat.”

“Why? You don’t?”

“No, I do!” Ranboo immediately denied. “I only— I—” He cut himself off, wincing, then dropped his shoulders, turning away with a mumble. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

Dream hummed, not pushing the matter. Instead, he glanced behind him once more, trailing over the pond and further out. The feeling was gone. He wanted to relax, but he could only frown. If he wasn’t as tired, he’d trust his instincts more, but as it stood, it could very well have been his imagination. Or maybe a fox or something. Still, he didn’t like it.

“Is… everything okay?”

Dream looked back at Ranboo. “Yeah, probably. Sorry for the scare.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and Dream could hear the tight smile in his voice. “Are you already done, by the way?”

“No, I just started sharpening them,” Dream said as he went to pick up his weapons.

“I can finish if you’re tired,” Ranboo suggested. Dream looked back at him, odd, and Ranboo quickly grew rigid. “Or— Or not. I just thought I’d offer, since I… Yeah.”

Dream only stared at him, in thought.

Ranboo was clearly wary of Dream. That came as no surprise; it was what anyone would expect, especially in a world like this. But the way Ranboo spoke, the way he asked if Dream had anything to eat, the way he wanted to help—it didn’t come from wariness. No, it was desperation. Desperation to have anything when the alternative was nothing. The sort of desperation that was, well. Familiar. Bittersweet.

Intoxicating.

A stranger. Only a stranger.

It would be so easy to—

A tingle settled somewhere within his bones, and he had to still himself. That was not what he needed to do here. There was no reason (there could be it would help wouldn’t it), and there were much simpler ways to go about the issue with Ranboo. What mattered here was moderation.

There was a fine balance between too much and not enough, and Dream would be the first to admit he didn’t usually care about the line. Not when he drew his own, not when he knew better.

But right now, he couldn’t risk anything. He couldn’t risk too much. Ranboo was on the verge of running away, only something fragile holding him back, and Dream couldn't risk breaking it.

So he’d take a breath, he’d calm the twitching under his skin, and he’d ignore the whispering.

Nice and steady is how he worked, and nice and steady is how he’d continue.

“I’m fine, Ranboo, but thanks,” Dream said, passing him. “You should rest, too. However you do it. I’ll finish in the morning, or, well, night.”

Ranboo nodded, pulling at his hood, and turned to silently follow him. 

Dream cast one final look around before his eyes landed on Ranboo and he almost scoffed. He was being paranoid; if there was anyone around, following or otherwise, Ranboo would know, after all. And he seemed fine, if somewhat tense. That could mostly be attributed to Dream, though, so.

He really had to get some sleep.

Inside, Dream placed his weapons on a table and laid down on the rickety couch next to it, arm under his head, sighing. Even with lumps and bumps, it was far better than the cold ground he usually rested on. Better yet, they should soon reach a town, and maybe then he’ll be able to get an actual bed. Wouldn’t that be the dream.

The thought about the next settlement reminded him of other matters, too, though.

He turned his head to the side to look at where Ranboo was curled up again; he really did like his shadows. From what Dream could tell, he was scribbling something in a notebook, and Dream wanted to huff. Ranboo and his notebooks were inseparable no matter the circumstances, it seemed. There was something… soothing about the consistency, though.

What a joke

Ranboo momentarily flickered his gaze up to Dream, immediately tearing it back down again. The lines in his shoulders were taut. Uncomfortable.

Well. There was that too much, not enough. And it was leaning way too far into the latter.

A stranger. Nothing but a stranger.

“Hey,” he called. Ranboo hummed in question, still keeping his eyes on his book. No more wasting opportunities. “How can you even tell which lock is which? They all look the same to me.”

Ranboo stilled. Slowly, he looked back at Dream, and there was something mixed with confliction there.

“I, uh— I kinda thought you’d know something about it since you’re also in this… field?..” he said with an awkward laugh.

Dream shrugged—or, well, as best as he could in his position. “Eh, I don’t bother. It’s easier to just break things down, y’know.”

“That’s one way to do it,” he remarked, quiet. “But not everything can be easily broken. I— I think.”

“Mhm, that’s true, I guess,” Dream said, stifling a yawn. “That’s why I asked.”

“Ah. Well, uh…” Ranboo started rummaging through his bag. “It’s— about the keyhole, mostly. That’s really the first thing anyone should learn to tell apart if they…” He gestured something vague with one hand, the other still searching. “Yeah. A warded lock has a really distinct one, kinda what first comes to mind when you think of keyholes. And a lever tumbler lock’s is similar but a bit.. smaller? I guess. It’s… hard to describe it,” he finished, a nervous chuckle rising up. He’d fished out two locks, probably the ones in question. “But yeah. There are other types, too, and each has its own keyhole design. But if everything else fails, you can just… try the different picking methods and see which works. Though that’d be a weird way of going about it.”

Dream hummed. “Alright. You mentioned skeleton keys for that one… Uh…”

“Warded lock.”

“That. Is it, like— the only way, or are there other?”

“Yeah, there definitely are, hold on, I think I still have the first tool I made for it...” Ranboo went back into his bag. “It’s kinda useless to me now and I could just throw it out, but it’s nice to sometimes look back on things, y’know? Besides, you never know when you might need this stuff.”

Dream closed his eyes and listened as Ranboo started to ramble, jumping from point to point, spewing out terms that sounded like bird speech to Dream. It only took a few prods here and there to encourage him to continue, and soon enough he was all but chirping about the “delicate art of lockpicking”, or however he put it.

Whether Dream understood any of it or cared to try didn’t matter. The occasional glance told him the taut lines had melted away and Ranboo had settled into a different position, using his hands increasingly more to illustrate an idea. Dream couldn’t help but grin, satisfied.

Honestly, people tended to go overboard. Not that Dream could say he didn’t. He liked to be certain he wouldn’t fail, whether that be a war or getting someone where he wanted them. But sometimes, there was no need to break things.

Especially not when they were already broken.

~~~

If Dream was anything, it was resourceful. It was crucial to be for someone in his situation, where things could go south at any given moment. Knowing how to use whatever hurdles came your way to your advantage could be the difference between victory and defeat, and, after so many years, Dream would say he’d gotten pretty good at it.

That was why, when they’d finally reached a town, he already had a plan on how to make this particular issue work to his advantage.

The sun hadn’t yet risen when they slipped through unsuspecting patrols, staying in the outskirts. Ranboo seemed to have a weird sixth sense of knowing exactly where to go to find an uninhabited place to hide inside. Dream wouldn’t be surprised; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d found out Ranboo had… peculiar abilities. Still, quickly enough, Ranboo was already working on the lock, and a couple of seconds later, the door clicked open. As Dream followed him in, he glanced at the keyhole. Huh. Looked pretty standard. Warded?

Okay, maybe it was a bit interesting.

Once inside, he closed the door behind him and the two did a quick look around the house to confirm that it was, in fact, empty, and, judging by the hefty layer of dust on every surface, for quite a while. That worked well for them.

Ranboo turned to him, playing with the straps of his bag, an awkward look about him, but before he could say anything, Dream lifted a finger again where his mouth was under the mask, effectively shushing him.

“I think we’re being tailed,” he said quietly.

Ranboo tensed, immediately stepping closer to the shadows and glancing through the murky windows. His hold on the straps tightened. “For how long?” he murmured.

“I’m not sure. Awhile.”

Ranboo looked at him. “Is that why you were so… uh, on edge back at the pond?”

“I thought I’d imagined it, sleep deprivation at all, but now I’m sure there’s someone following us.” He paused, tilting his head at Ranboo. “You didn’t feel anything?”

Ranboo winced, shifting on his feet. “No, but… I can’t always— tell that well.”

Well, that was odd.

“Huh. Really? You seemed pretty confident about it last time.”

“Yeah, well, you have a very…” Ranboo glanced somewhere to the ground. “Loud look.”

“And some people, what, don’t?”

“I don’t know, Dream, it’s not something I can experiment with exactly,” he muttered. He let go of the straps in favor of folding his arms. The way his fingers were digging into the material looked borderline painful. “Some people get around it somehow, alright? I don’t know how or why. I don’t know why I can’t even do this properly.”

Dream frowned. Sure, he didn’t know much about this Ranboo, but the fact that he’d managed to stay free for so long all by himself alone spoke volumes of his competency. If a thing here and there didn’t work out, so what? Problems were made to be solved, not sulked about.

Though, to be fair, Ranboo from his own world (not the one that was his... ally) wasn’t exactly known for his expert problem solving.

The alternative was much easier, after all.

“...We’ll get back to that later,” Dream said. “You missed a tail, whatever, I caught it. Now we have to deal with it.”

Ranboo was silent for a bit, hunched into himself, before he nodded. “Who do you think they’re after? You or me?”

“Who’s to say not both,” Dream remarked, moving along the wall to look out into the quickly brightening street. “But it’s probably just one of us. And there’s only one way to find out who.”

Ranboo sighed, dropping his arms. “We have to separate.”

“Yup. Lure them out,” Dream mumbled, scanning the outside. Some stray folk were already up, scurrying about. Nothing out of the ordinary. “If it’s one of mine, I’ll deal with them easily enough. If it’s one of yours, though…”

Ranboo exhaled a shaky breath, momentarily shutting his eyes. “I’ll deal with it, too.”

“Ranboo—”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve always—” He winced, interestingly enough. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Besides, it could be yours, anyway.”

Dream hummed. “Sure, it could, but I actually think this one’s after you.”

Ranboo shifted, uncomfortable. “Why?”

“Because you couldn’t sense them. Meaning they’re aware you’re able to.”

“I told you, it’s not foolproof—”

“And I’m telling you someone knows how to exploit some hole in your skill,” Dream cut him off. “That’s advanced stuff, even by hunter standards. I’m not just leaving you to “deal with it”.”

Ranboo had gotten tense, refusing to look at Dream. His hand twitched. “Alright, fine,” he finally said, his voice forced. “What do you suggest, then?”

“We still lure them out,” Dream shrugged. “I’ll leave, and you’ll hide. If I see someone enter, I’ll corner them. Sounds good?”

“Okay,” Ranboo murmured. A pause. “But you really don’t have to—”

“I said I want to help you, Ranboo. Let me.”

Ranboo closed his eyes and nodded. He looked pained.

As Dream left the house and slunk away, he couldn’t help but idly wonder how Ranboo hadn’t gotten used to the status quo of being hunted by now, if his reaction was anything to go by.

Guess, no matter what world, anxiety was always his closest companion.

If Dream was right, their tail wouldn’t bother following him, so he didn’t worry too much about how he circled back to the house, as long as it was away from people’s eyes. He settled in an alleyway with a dead-end far enough to not be seen but with the house in his sight. It was entirely possible he was wrong and no one was trailing them, but after they’d left the first shack, he’d kept close attention to anything off, and, well.

Paranoia sometimes paid off.

So Dream waited there and watched. At first, he’d thought it would take quite awhile for anything to happen (if anything were to happen at all), so he was a bit surprised when, not even a few minutes later, a cloaked figure stepped from around a building’s corner and with clear purpose strode towards the door. They were so quick to get inside, so unlike the cautiousness Dream had gotten used to when it came to hunters, that Dream all but had to scramble to catch up. 

He’d only seen this hunter once and already he wasn’t fond of them. Even before, he could tell their presence was just… off. Wrong, in some way, and that was coming from Dream. It put him on edge, and now, when he had them within grasp, his nerves tingled, heating with anticipation of relief.

He unlatched his axe once he was close enough and, likewise throwing all caution to the wind, followed the figure in.

Dream managed to catch only a glimpse of some sort of skull in the shadows of the dark cloak as they whipped around before a hissing went off and the room burst into purple smoke, effectively cutting off his vision. The gas invaded his lungs and he started coughing at the irritation, covering his mouth with his free hand in a vain attempt to block some of it. He tried to make out anything in the room, anything he could aim at, but he didn’t get far before the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Dream snapped to the direction, closing the distance in a few strides, and he was met with a broken window, a clear view of the back alley.

The figure was nowhere in sight.

Coward.

...Okay, well. That had certainly been… something.

He could, theoretically, chase after the hunter (his blood was already boiling with adrenaline, demanding action, a fight, anything), but he couldn’t be certain if there weren’t more of them. And his objective here wasn’t to go on a hunt; it was to ensure Ranboo’s safety, so he let it be this time.

Something told him it wouldn’t be the last, anyway.

“Ranboo?” he called, turning back into the room. Another series of coughs tore their way out. He brought a hand up to stifle them. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Dream heard the response from somewhere… above. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh, ‘m fine, just don’t come out yet, there’s fucking—” Another. “—gas everywhere.”

“Oh. Is it poisonous?”

“I sure as hell hope not,” he scowled. “That’d be a shitty way to go. I’ll wait outside for it to clear, alright?”

“Okay.”

Fortunately, the crash hadn’t caught anyone’s attention, from what Dream could tell as he observed the street. People were scurrying about, too engaged in their own lives to worry about anyone else’s. Maybe it wasn’t a rare occurrence. Maybe they just didn’t want to bother. It wasn’t hard to get.

Soon enough, the purple had dissipated from the room, and Dream went back inside. Never before had he encountered something like this. It was a dirty move, though, Dream had to admit, a useful one. If gas was this hunter’s MO or something, he’d have to think about how to counteract it. Otherwise, this would get really frustrating really fast.

He couldn’t exactly hit anything if he was busy tearing his lungs out.

“Alright, I think it’s fine now,” Dream called again.

There was some shuffling above him and a trap door opened, Ranboo climbing down from it. Huh, he hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“Guess that confirms that,” Dream mused, once more heading to the broken window and glancing outside. “They’re an annoying one, though. Fucking gas? Seriously? I guess we can’t fight back if we’re poisoned but that’s shady as hell.”

When Dream was met with silence, he looked over his shoulder at Ranboo who was hunched over a countertop, something in his hands. It looked like a piece of paper. Dream moved a bit closer. He still couldn’t see Ranboo’s expression, not from this angle, but his hands that were holding the note were shaking. Increasingly so. And that was enough to put Dream on edge.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked.

Instead of answering him, Ranboo staggered to the nearest wall and slumped against it, sliding it down. The crushed note laid in his grasp as he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. His whole body was trembling by now, shoulders twitching up with every hitch of breath, on the verge of breaking. 

Everything about the sight made Dream frown.

This couldn’t be good.

“What happened?” Dream asked again, lower this time, as he slowly approached him.

Ranboo mumbled something into his knees, unintelligible.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I thought I’d lost him,” Ranboo wailed, not unlike an injured animal, his voice cracking at the end. He tightened the grip around his legs. “I— I did so much, I tried everything, and I was sure, I was so— I was so sure it would— I was so sure he wouldn’t—” He choked on a sob, and his body wrecked with them.

Dream was quiet. Processing. “You know who this was?”

Ranboo nodded, a sad sort of thing.

“And… he left you a note.”

“He does that,” he whispered. “When he doesn’t intend to or can’t do anything with me. So I would know it’s him and that he’s—” Ranboo didn’t finish, only shook his head. “I can’t, I— I hate it so much!.. I don’t know what—” The rest of the words were more like a dying cry. Unintelligible.

Unsettling.

It wasn’t uncommon for the predators to toy with their food, especially in a world like this, where anyone could be a hunter and anyone the hunted. Dream himself wasn’t unfamiliar with it; he got the sick glee that came with it, he knew it could be hard to resist, especially when you’d gotten a taste, but this just looked… miserable. 

And that, the hopelessness, the desperation, the breaking down, was not something he’d ever seen from this side. Or ever cared to. He belonged at the other end of the sword, always had. Everyone knew that. He got to experience the anger, the lashing out, the curses, the crying and the wailing, but it was always— aimed at him.

So, naturally, Dream wasn’t sure how he should act in this situation.

It felt— odd, the way he could only just… stand there, watching Ranboo unravel. Uncomfortable. As if this was something new. As if he’d never watched people break before his eyes, refusing to let them pick the pieces up. But Dream wasn’t the one swinging this time. Wasn’t the one making the pieces fall.

It was confusing, unnerving, mortifying, reli—

A quiver trembled his body, and he took a steadying breath. It didn’t matter. It was… It was just another situation to work through. And he knew how to do that. Relax, focus, think.

Silently, he approached Ranboo and crouched down next to him. A puzzle, nothing more, nothing less. And puzzles were solved by getting more information.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

Ranboo let out a low whine. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, still muffled by the fabric. “Years? It’s hard to keep track.”

Dream lifted his brows at that. “This one hunter has been after you for years .”

Ranboo nodded.

“...And people call me stubborn. The hell, that’s just insane.”

A wet laugh bubbled up from Ranboo. “Yeah, it’s a bit crazy, I guess.”

Dream huffed. That was putting it lightly.

This made him think, though. If this guy was this dedicated to hunting Ranboo, he’d definitely know a thing or two of how to go about it. And that made him think Ranboo had to be aware of it.

Maybe he hadn’t told him everything about that problem of his.

“Ranboo,” Dream said after a pause. “Besides this one, has any other hunter managed to tail you without you noticing?”

 Ranboo stiffened at that. Slowly, he shook his head.

Dream tutted. “So you knew it had to have been him.”

“I— I didn’t think—”

“No, you did think,” Dream said, scowling. Now Ranboo’s distress made more sense. “You just didn’t want to.”

If Ranboo would rather believe his ability was malfunctioning than admit it had to be the same hunter that’d been tracking him for hell knows how long, then, well. Desperation to turn a blind eye to a problem you couldn’t solve was understandable, but if he didn’t get his act together, it would get him killed one day.

“You don’t get it, Dream!” he cried out, snapping his head up. His tear-stained cheeks were steaming. “I can deal with everything else, I can deal with— with never talking with anyone, with everyone hating me, I can live with it, but what I can’t deal with is— is this—” He made a strangled noise, choking on his words. “I’d never complain and I’d be happy with what I have if he just left me alone!” he all but yelled, eyes finding the note still clenched in his hands. He crushed it with a broken sob and threw his head back into his knees. It looked like it hurt. “Please, I just… I can’t take it anymore, I— I can’t.”

Yeah, this would definitely get him killed one day.

...Well, if nothing else, this made Dream’s job easier. And that was something that was easy to focus on. It’d be a win-win for everyone, really. Well, everyone on Dream’s side.

“Then don’t,” Dream said. For a moment, it sounded distant. He cleared his throat. Focus. “You don’t have to take that.”

Ranboo weakly laughed, mirthless. “Right, why didn’t I think of that.”

“Look at me, Ranboo.”

It took him a few seconds, but, slowly and painfully, he eventually complied.

Dream shifted closer.

“The moment I walked in, this guy ran off,” he started, quiet. “Clearly, he doesn’t wanna fight me. What does that tell you?”

Ranboo was silent for a bit, his face twisting. “It means that he won’t...” he trailed off.

“He won’t go after you as long as I’m with you,” Dream finished it for him, a grin tugging at his lips. “And even if he does, well, I’d hate to be him.”

Ranboo exhaled a pained sigh, shutting his eyes tightly. “But he’s so— He’s so devious, and you never— Gods, you never see him coming, and then it’s too late and it’s all going so bad and—”

“Seriously, Ranboo, there’s nothing I haven’t seen,” Dream shut him up. “Well, the gas was new, I’ll give him that, but he won’t take me off guard anymore. Trust me when I say the only one that should be afraid is him. Not you.”

“But it’s my problem, you shouldn’t be— no one should deal with it other than me,” he finished with a whimper, staring somewhere down.

“Then look at it this way. I’m not doing charity work. I give you protection until you’re in a safe place, and in return you help me with what I need,” Dream repeated his offer from before. Only this time he felt better about his chances.

(This was something he was familiar with.)

“You still haven’t told me what you want from me,” Ranboo whispered. “I don’t know if I can just… accept it like that.”

Dream exhaled a sharp sigh. “You seriously think it’d be any worse than what you’re in now?”

That earned him a wince. Good. See some sense.

“I… I don’t…”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Dream said, enunciating each word. “That’d kinda defeat the whole purpose of protecting you. But how about this—when I tell you what I need you for, if you think it’s not worth what I’m offering in exchange, you can back out of it. No repercussions. How does that sound?”

Ranboo thought about it. Long and hard, probably, judging from the prolonged silence. Dream was growing impatient, but he’d wait. He said what he needed to say, and if Ranboo still didn’t see reason, well. He’d be responsible for his own funeral.

“...Okay,” he finally breathed out, and Dream barely caught it. “Okay, I’ll— Okay.”

Dream couldn’t help smiling, satisfied. “Good. Knew you’d see reason.”

...Wasn’t that hard.

He stood up and extended his hand to Ranboo, who only stared at it for a good several seconds before tentatively accepting it. Dream pulled him to his feet, staggering back only a little bit from Ranboo’s height. Ranboo immediately shoved the crumpled note in his pocket and wrapped his arms around himself, refusing to look at anything in particular. When he was like this, anyone would wonder how he’d manage to survive so long on his own. Dream did too, frankly. But one’s survival instinct was a powerful thing, and, by the looks of it, Ranboo really wanted to live. Good for him.

There was something ironic about the fact that, out of everything that wanted him dead, it was his fellow people, not the monsters people were raised to fear. He didn’t have to be scared of the eyes of zombies and skeletons; there were far more dangerous things looking at him, after all. And really, who could separate them?

Dream blinked. Oh.

“It’s because of the night,” he murmured, staring at Ranboo.

“What?”

That’d be smart.

“If two people are looking at you,” he started, slow. “And you can’t see them. Can you tell which is which?”

Ranboo cast him an odd glance. “Uh, no? I just know someone is.”

“So, theoretically, if ten people were looking at you and your hunter was one of them, you wouldn’t know, right?”

“...No, I guess not.”

“Can you also tell when non-people are looking at you?”

Ranboo scrunched his face up. “Like… what?”

“Like monsters during the night.” Dream hummed. “They only get away from you at a certain distance, right?”

He could almost see the gears turning in Ranboo’s head. When they clicked, his eyes widened, and he buried his face in his hands with a wail. “I’m so stupid. How did I— Oh gods.”

“We all have our moments,” Dream shrugged. “I think we figured out how your hunter tails you so well.”

Ranboo let out another frustrated groan. Dream could sympathize.

“Well, that means no more nightly travels,” he said with a clap. A win-win for everyone indeed. “That’ll definitely throw your hunter off for awhile.”

“I haven’t traveled during the day in so long,” Ranboo mumbled, letting his hands drop. “I don’t— I have no idea how I’ll… I don’t know.”

“You’ll be fine. What we will need to do is get you a new disguise, though. This is just—” Dream gestured at him vaguely. “It looks way too suspicious.”

Ranboo huffed at that. “Everything is suspicious about me if you couldn’t tell. What am I supposed to do, wear a suit?”

That’d definitely mess with Dream’s head. Best not.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said, shrugging.

“You talk about looking suspicious and yet you’re the one with a bright smiley mask,” Ranboo muttered. “You don’t even try to hide you’re not Dream.”

“Ah, yes, but you see, people know me, but they don’t mess with me,” Dream remarked, grinning. “Reputation and image is everything.”

He didn’t need to mention the fact that it wasn’t technically his reputation and he didn’t even know what he did to get it exactly, but, hey, close enough. It worked just as well, if not better. Something about people having a general fear instead of a personal grudge. The latter always caused problems.

“Fine,” Ranboo sighed. “I’m too tired.”

“We can rest here for awhile before we go out,” Dream said. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, rubbing his eye. “But I don’t know if I can rest knowing he’s just… out there,” he whispered, grasping his upper arm in a half-hug. 

Dream was silent, pondering. He wasn’t stupid; he knew insisting nothing would happen to him while he was around Dream wouldn’t get him far, not with how paranoia-wrecked Ranboo was right now. Not to mention his obvious lack of trust in Dream, which, again, was fair. So, instead, he hummed.

“Alright, let’s leave town, then,” he said, shrugging. “Grab something for you on the way and find some place else. Shouldn’t be that far.”

Ranboo exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay, yeah. That’d— That’d make me feel better.”

Despite everything, this situation intrigued Dream. Sure, he’d considered the idea Ranboo also had a—as others called it—regular hunter, but something about this one was anything but regular. Amongst other things, a skull for a mask? Really? And people said Dream’s was eccentric. 

Whoever this guy was, it took him very little to catch Dream’s interest.

And, well. People rarely wanted to catch Dream’s interest.

Chapter Text

There was something interesting about the fact that the holding cells had beds.

Well, that was pushing it. A metal frame with a thin cotton layer wasn’t exactly one’s ideal resting place, but, compared to obsidian and a wooden table, it was more than Dream could have asked for. Still, it made him wonder. The beds looked like they were more for decoration, as if fit for dolls in a child’s playhouse, though still much better than what he’d had before. It was details like these that, alone, didn’t mean much, but when put together, cemented the idea that this prison wasn’t, in fact, officiated by any laws and governments. Just whatever however whoever wanted.

That whoever being Dream, apparently.

And yet he hadn’t been able to organize a proper cell for his future holding.

The lack of his counterpart’s foresight was embarrassing, really.

Well, anyway. Enough about beds; sure, he couldn’t stop thinking about it after weeks of sleeping on a table, and sure, the sensation of metal bars through the pathetic mattress against his back was weirdly overwhelming, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like, the wound in his stomach.

Gods, it still fucking hurt.

When devising his plan, Dream sort of hoped Sam would show some humanity or, heavens forbid, mercy, and would let him have at least a little bit of regeneration potion. Even a sip would have done wonders for his recovery. And he wasn’t technically wrong. Instead of a regeneration potion, though, he got health.

And, well. There was a difference.

Dream exhaled a long sigh as he slowly rose from the bed into a seating position, wincing at the way muscle pulled around the scarred tissue. It’d been a week, and he was still feeling like shit. The wound itself was doing pretty well, but his body? Yeah, no. The magic of health pots. Near-instant closing, double the toll on everything else. While regeneration supplied a person with outside energy for increased healing, the health effect made you work for it. To be fair, it was much cheaper. Much, much cheaper. And Dream had already learned he wasn’t exactly, well, loved by the warden.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Not like he hadn’t been in worse situations.

After several days in his new cell, Dream had gotten ansty again. He knew he had to be patient, knew he couldn’t exert himself lest all his efforts went to waste, but gods he could not sit still. By now, it had to be fine, anyway, right? If he sat around and waited for too long, Sam might throw him back into that oven, and he’d be back at square one. Not exactly great for his plans.

So, after he got his potatoes of the day (he’d never be able to look at another potato again, seriously), Dream decided not to waste any more time. Sam wouldn’t be back for awhile, so he might as well.

He reached down to the folded hem of his prison-issued pants. There, he found the small opening he’d made back in his cell and carefully retracted the wound wires from the clock. He’d worked with worse before, so this should be fine. After unwinding them, he stood up and got over to the barred door. It was almost funny how low security this was compared to his original cell; he could reach the goddamn lock, which could be a huge liability to the place, but, hey, who was he to complain. This only reinforced his idea that perhaps these rooms weren’t really meant for… usage.

Well, all the better for him.

Through the bars, Dream found the keyhole on the other side, though the shape was unfamiliar. Concerning, but not too much. He inserted the wires and started fiddling around, trying to gauge what the inside could look like. This must have been one of those newer designs; if he remembered correctly…

After a few minutes, a click sounded, and Dream pulled a grin. Still got it.

Quietly, he pushed the door open and stepped outside. Looking around, there were a few stories of identical cells, all along the same wall, and heavily reinforced doors on either side of the oddly narrow hall. The detail that caught Dream’s eye, though, was some ways up on the opposite wall—a small platform with an unassuming door. No doubt for the guards to look around. The blueprints were right, then. And if that was the case, then that might just be what Dream needed.

He walked over to the opposite wall, examining it. Blackstone was an unusual material for a building of this scale, but right now, he couldn’t be more thankful for it. While it served great for the whole unnerving atmosphere this prison had going on, it also had a jagged quality to it. Meaning, to anyone with above average rock-climbing abilities, it was possible to work with.

And Dream wouldn’t have stayed a free man for as long as he had if he didn’t possess an odd skill here and there.

Despite the platform being much higher than he’d first thought, and his body still not fully recovered, Dream persevered in his task. Huffing and puffing, he’d take his time finding the right spot, the right angle, and slowly made his way up the wall. If Sam were to walk in at this moment, it’d be quite the hell to explain. It’d also be a bit funny, probably. For anyone besides them.

He didn’t like depending on luck, but he also had to admit, without it, he wouldn’t have gotten this far. Maybe luck was just another skill someone had. Wouldn’t that be a thought.

Finally, after what felt like an hour (and it probably was), Dream got high enough to grip the edge of the platform. He hoisted himself up and over the bars, and allowed himself to lean against the wall for a few short moments to catch his breath. Maybe he should be thanking his other self for ordering blackstone to be used. A weirdly fortunate foresight on his part this time. Huh.

The lock on the guards’ door was a different one from the cell’s. Again, not something he had seen before, but, again, not something he wouldn’t be able to work with. He knelt in front of it, took out his make-shift picks and started fiddling with the inside. Oh yeah, this might take awhile. Definitely less for decoration than the ones below. 

It took Dream at least a good half an hour to figure out the mechanism, and some more to actually get around it. Whatever this was, it felt high-grade. All that to say, Dream couldn’t be blamed for the sense of self-satisfaction when the lock finally clicked.

The sense was quickly replaced by panic, though, when a shrilling siren immediately began ringing from all around.

In hindsight, maybe Dream should have expected there to be a couple of failsafes in a place like this.

If he’d been on a time limit before, this cut it down significantly, so Dream wasted no time in yanking the door open and dashing inside.

And now, for the maze.

With the memorized blueprints in mind, Dream ran through the corridors with some idea of where he was going, taking turns he hoped were right, the shrieking sound not pausing for a moment, only pulsing in rhythm with his own erratic heart. Over the pounding in his ears Dream could barely hear his own footsteps hitting the sleek stone. At a wrong step, a dead end would greet him, and Dream would have to sprint back, cursing at the loss of time. He had no idea how long it’d be before Sam worked out where he was, and how long before he’d find him. Exhausted and weaponless, Dream had to admit, he probably wouldn’t do well against an armed warden. Everyone had weak spots, though, and as seconds ticked by, he let his mind run over the scenario. A jab to the throat, the eyes, Sam was larger, but Dream could be quicker, he could try disarming him, taking something for himself—

His thoughts screeched to a halt once he ran into what looked to be a storage room. Maybe luck really was a skill. With his mind now shrieking at him go go find your things faster stop wasting time, Dream began rummaging through the various boxes and cabinets, throwing things around until he finally hit the jackpot. And, really, he could have cried in relief at the sight of his mask, with cracks that he didn’t recognize and the wrong shade of white, something he couldn’t care less about right now. Immediately, he strapped it on, and let his shoulders slump, exhaling a deep sigh.

Fucking finally.

It’d been much, much too long, and he never again wanted to take it off.

Whoever had seen his face, he’d make them forget it.

With that little issue taken care of, Dream opted to also change back into his clothes. Even if they weren’t his per se, they were still leagues better than these prison ones. That was about all that this storage room had; forget about anything useful such as weapons. Those were probably stored somewhere behind lock and key, but, frankly, Dream had already wasted enough time. He needed to go, now.

On his way out, though, his eye caught on a discarded wooden crate. After pondering for a beat, he went over and wrestled out a loose plank. Better than nothing, at least.

He returned to the hallway and continued navigating through them, the still on-going siren urging him on. The storage room served as a good reference point, and if he was right, and the plans were accurate, his goal shouldn’t be far now, only a few more turns—

As Dream entered a new corridor, though, he was forced to stop in his tracks.

An obstacle in the form of the prison’s warden stood in his path. Already armed with a sword, donning a look in those eyes that would have killed a lesser man. Dream could have sworn he could hear a low hissing mixing in with the shrill ringing.

Something told Dream he wasn’t in for a fun time.

“You shouldn’t have done this, Dream,” Sam spoke, a rumble to his foreboding voice. “Did you honestly expect you could get away?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, eyes darting around the place. Too narrow, no other way besides back or forward. He could try making a break for it, find another path around, but he couldn’t risk Sam following him. Going through Sam could end up with Dream getting stabbed, though. Which was more risky?

“Surrender peacefully, and I won’t make it hurt.”

“Uh-huh,” Dream drawled. “Yeah, no thanks.”

With that, he twirled around and dashed back the way he’d come from. Sam’s loud footsteps echoed behind him, and Dream put as much force into his movements as his body allowed him. He took turns at random, not expecting to lose his pursuer, but at least put some distance between them. A half-baked idea was forming in his head, and for that, he needed a fitting place. 

Kind of like the one he’d just stumbled into.

It appeared to be another storage room, filled with crates and boxes and cabinets, all full with various types of food, despite Dream only seeing potatoes on his plate, interestingly enough. The place wasn’t open, and, more importantly, had no other exit points, just what Dream needed. And so, after a quick look, Dream found a pillar to hide behind. There, he went still, and waited. 

Not long after, quick steps approached the room, slowing by the door. Sam entered, and Dream dared a peek. He had his sword drawn, on guard, as he glanced around, slowly stepping further in.

“You’re making this harder for yourself,” he said. “We can still do this the easy way.”

Silence.

“Okay, hard way it is, then.”

As Sam went on, Dream quietly circled the pillar to remain out of his vision. Soon enough, Dream was behind him, and he gripped his plank tighter. A deep breath later, he stepped away from his spot and approached Sam, his soft footsteps masked by the siren.

Once close enough, Dream lifted the plank and slammed it across the back of his head.

Sam gasped sharply, stumbling forward, and whirled around, a growl growing in his throat. Sturdy motherfucker. Metal hit wood as Dream blocked Sam’s blade, the force behind the blow almost making his weakened knees buckle. Not giving Sam the chance to react first, Dream twisted the board with the sword stuck inside and yanked it out of their hands, sending it flying away. Unfazed, Sam instead retrieved a dagger in a beat, already moving into a second attack. Dream managed to dodge it by a hair’s length, cursing his deteriorated body. He couldn’t let the fight last for long, not when he wasn’t exactly in the best shape. 

Sam was merciless, though, and cut him no slack, delivering blow after blow, making Dream jump around like some sort of frenzied rabbit. Keeping the discarded sword in his peripheral, Dream tried to dance around Sam closer to the weapon. Sam, clearly, wasn’t an idiot, though, and, before Dream could make a break for it, he tried to trip him. Dream’s momentary stumble cost him a second of awareness, and the next beat he was choking on air as the blade pierced through his shoulder. Before he could react, Sam had him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. Another cry of pain stuck in Dream’s throat, black dots flashing in his vision. 

Well, this was going great.

“Don’t expect any more potions,” Sam snarled. “Maybe that’ll teach you something.”

Dream heaved, eyes darting around the place, trying to find anything of value. Anything to prevent him from going back to his cell, effectively ruining all chances of ever escaping. He was good at that, right? Beating the odds? He was good at that, so there had to be something, he’d make there be something—

there, by the hip, jingling

That was just careless, really. And exactly what he'd been banking on.

“Good luck with that,” Dream mumbled.

Not giving Sam a second to respond, Dream latched onto the keys hanging by Sam’s belt and yanked them off, immediately striking Sam’s temple with the metal. Such a hit could easily kill a human, but Sam, the brute that he was, only yelped, releasing Dream and tripping to the side. Dream used Sam’s short state of confusion to break away, dashing towards the exit. He could hear groans behind him, and it’d be only a couple of seconds before Sam was on his heels again, so, once out, Dream took hold of the heavy door and pulled it closed. Sharp agony shot up to his shoulder, making his bite his lip enough to draw blood, but he managed to get the door in place, swiftly moving through the keys with trembling hands. Lady luck was on his side, it seemed, and only a few keys down the lock turned with a click.

With a shaky sigh, Dream stepped back, and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. A loud bang against the metal door made him jump, but that was it. The handle rattled, useless, the sound reassuring Dream he was fine. Sam was yelling something, the words too muffled to clearly make out, and Dream opted to leave him be. Eventually, Sam would find a way out, and he wasn’t about to stick around for that.

This… could have gone worse, but it could have also gone much better.

Case in point, the fucking gash in his shoulder.

Dream trekked through the prison slower now, partly because he didn’t expect Sam to pop out of nowhere, partly because he didn’t want to agitate the wound any further. Sam’s dagger was still poking out of it, but Dream didn’t touch it. He’d prefer to not bleed to death in the middle of this place. Still, though, he needed to treat it, and soon. He could try finding the infirmary, but that was on the other side of the prison, and he was so close to his original goal. His priority right now was getting the hell out, and, really, he’d survived much worse. Compared to some other injuries, this was little more than a scratch.

Yeah. Definitely.

Eventually, he found the room he was looking for. One of the ones that’d gotten blown up from Ranboo’s contraption. Though the ventilation aspect got fucked, the frame itself had remained intact. And it just so happen to be big enough for a person to get through.

After studying the blueprints until he could see them behind closed eyes, Dream concluded there were three ways out of this box: through the portal system, blowing a hole in the wall, or using vents. Only Sam knew the mechanics of the portals, an explosion would be too unpredictable, so that left the last option. Only in his plans, Dream expected him to be injury-free. 

Groaning and cursing, Dream lifted himself into the tight tunnel, its jagged surface digging into his skin. He set his jaw tight, and began crawling, trying to not choke with every pang of pain.

He could already tell this wouldn’t be a fun adventure.

And it wasn’t.

When the cool air finally licked his skin, Dream could have cried from joy. It gave him enough motivation to power through the last part, determination to reach the outside igniting his nerves. His vision was already mildly swaying from the loss of blood, but he paid it no mind. Not long after, moonlight penetrated the darkness he’d been swallowed by for what felt like hours. Dream grit his teeth, and, soon enough, he was falling out of the vents into the lake below.

With a gasp, he broke the surface, gulping down the delicious night breeze. The freezing water was already agitating his nerves, but Dream let himself take the sensation in, if only for a few seconds. The air, the sounds, the cold, the light. He closed his eyes, sighing. 

Oh, he’d missed it.

Dream had been stuck in various holding places for weeks before, but, damn, the feeling of finally being outside again never got old. Especially after the hellhole that’d been his cell. When it came down to it, a numbing lake was leagues better than the flowing lava.

He’d have to save the marvelling for later, though. When he had more time and when he wasn’t bleeding to death, maybe.

Once by the shore, Dream pulled himself out with an alarming amount of effort. If he’d lay down now, he wasn’t sure he’d get up, so, instead, he resisted the pull of gravity and forced his legs to move. To keep his mind away from the pain, he ran over what Ranboo had told him for the umpteeth time. His instructions had been clear enough, but by the sound of it, Dream had quite the journey in front of him. While he definitely wasn’t the worst at navigation, he also wouldn’t trust his skills with his life. Which was, well. An issue, obviously.

He couldn’t afford to get lost, though. For more reasons than one. This wouldn’t be the way he went out. He’d achieved too much, fought too hard, survived for too long to drop dead on the road like some sort of wounded animal. He’d trek on, and he’d find his way, and he’d figure out what the hell was going on.

~~~

Sometimes, Dream surprised even himself. How the hell he managed to not get himself killed in the Nether, unarmed and clinging onto consciousness for dear life, was beyond him. When he all but fell through the portal at the end of the weirdly confusing road, he vowed he’d treat himself somehow for this achievement. Maybe the beasts of the Nether thought he was already almost dead and decided to just let nature do its thing, but, hey, Dream wasn’t complaining. 

And after the scorching heat, the snowy fields that greeted him on the other end were a godsend.

Dream took a moment to blink away the haziness and try to orientate himself. Luckily for him, the area was lit enough to keep monsters at bay and give him some sort of guide. If he squinted, he could barely make out a cabin further down the hill. Since there wasn’t anything else around, it was as good a shot as any.

He dragged himself through the ankle deep snow, cringing at the red he was leaving behind. Though it wasn’t as much, the wound was still bleeding, trickling down his arm in a steady stream. A few drops here and there would be enough for any experienced hunter, but it wasn’t as if Dream had the luxury of covering his tracks right now.

When he was close enough, he noticed there were actually three cabins in the area, though only one of them, the biggest, had a light on. Ranboo hadn’t specified which house exactly Dream should go to, so he would have to take a gamble here. In theory, neither option should end in a disaster, but still. Ranboo had his weird double self thing going on, and Dream didn’t know anything about this Philza character, so he’d prefer to leave that for… later.

With a shaky sigh, Dream pulled himself up the first, the lit one’s, cabin’s steps, stopping in front the door to regain his bearings. His vision swayed dangerously and he gripped the railing for support, momentarily shutting his eyes. Almost there.

He just had to hope Ranboo didn’t screw him over.

Which would make no sense, but, frankly, Dream wasn’t sure what to expect from the guy.

He lifted his unsteady hand, took another deep breath, and knocked.

Some muffled shuffling later, footsteps approached the door, and a second later Dream was squinting at the light spilling from inside.

At the sight of the piglin hybrid, unarmed and mildly surprised, relief flooded him.

“Hey, Techno,” Dream greeted, pulling a shaky smile beneath his mask.

“Dream,” he responded, slow, his dark eyes glancing over Dream’s battered body. Yeah, he probably wasn’t a pretty sight. “Fancy seein’ you here.” A pause. “Weren’t you in prison or something?”

Dream couldn’t help laughing, weak.

“Yeah, about that,” he spoke, clearing his throat. “Remember that— that favor you owe me?” he said, trying not to waver too much. He really was putting a lot of trust into Ranboo’s words, huh.

“Rings a bell,” Techno drawled.

Okay, good. He hadn’t fucked up yet.

“Right, well, I wanna cash it in,” Dream said with a meek chuckle. 

“I’m listenin’.”

“Uh, hide me?”

Chapter Text

Dream stumbled inside the cabin once Techno stepped aside, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. He sunk into the nearest chair with a pained sigh.

“Sorry for the mess,” Dream chuckled, awkward, eyeing the red trail on the wooden planks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Techno said as he approached one of his cabinets, rummaging through it. “My floor’s seen much worse.” He returned to Dream’s side with some bandages and a bottle of water. “I don’t have any health potions on hand at the moment. The expiration time for them is horrible.”

“That’s true.” Dream took the offered items. “And honestly, I’m still beat from the last one, anyway, so.”

“Got into some trouble at the prison?”

“Well, not exactly,” he dragged, wincing once he started pulling the dagger out of his shoulder. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“I’d guess so,” Techno said, looking over Dream again. He huffed, “This is givin' me serious déjà vu vibes.”

“It is?”

Techno stared at him. Dream tried not to fidget. Was he missing something?

“I… Actually, nevermind,” Techno said with a clap. “This is a completely new experience. Yup, definitely. No déjà vu here.”

Dream opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came up. Yeah, he was missing something here for sure, but it probably wouldn’t be smart to keep pushing. Especially if it were something his counterpart was supposed to be aware of.

That… was a whole other issue that Dream wasn’t sure yet how he’d approach in the long run.

If Ranboo made it clear he was on Dream’s side no matter who Dream was, he didn’t know how Techno would react. Or how far this… allyship or whatever extended. Even Ranboo wasn’t too familiar with the details of this Techno and other Dream’s relationship. Maybe it was strictly business—and the only thing keeping Dream out of the freezing night was this mysterious favor Techno apparently owned. And maybe, if he realized Dream wasn’t their Dream, he’d throw him out regardless, because, hey, not his favor to use, right?

As much as Dream wanted to be on edge, should have been on edge, knowing that he couldn’t trust Techno, not really, he couldn’t help but let his nerves cool, shoulders slump, heart calm. Because, gods, this— he’d been here before.

The way Techno was leaning back, arms loosely folded, no weapon by him, a lazy if curious look in his eyes, how he brought bandages without asked, the sound of his quips—it was all so painfully familiar that if Dream focused only on him, he could almost pretend he really was at Techno’s, his Techno’s place, after another bad fight, just glad to have anyone that’d let him inside. Not a friend, or an ally, exactly, but… Someone he didn’t need to protect his back from. And that, in Dream’s world, was already so much.

So, staring at a sight he’d seen many times before, at Technoblade, the royal, the borderline demigod, in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, hair far longer and clothes far too casual, was almost too much for him to comprehend.

For the first time, it really hit him that he wasn’t home.

A strange sort of tightness settled in his chest, and he tore his eyes away from Techno and focused back on his wound. No point in dwelling on such sentiments right now. He grit his teeth, and began peeling away the cloth from his shoulder. There went his-not-his jacket. It looked well-made, too. Damn.

“So,” Techno finally broke the silence. “Not that I’m not thrilled to have you here, but how much trouble should I be expectin’?”

“Ah, well, I don’t think Sam’s gonna be too happy,” Dream chuckled. He poured the water over the wound, using a bit of bandage to dap it away. “Though I did kinda lock him inside a room, so that might take a while.”

“You locked the warden inside his own prison? Nice,” Techno laughed. “Imagine bein’ that bad at your job. Embarrassin’ for him, really.”

Dream pulled a smile at that, further melting into his chair. “Mhm, guess so. But yeah, besides that, I’m… not sure who’ll go after me.”

“Didn’t, like, the entire town gang up on you or somethin’?”

“Uh, well...” Dream trailed off. It had definitely looked like it, ha. “I’ll be out of your way soon, though, so don’t worry about that. Just until I figure out what to do next.”

Techno stared at him, an odd glint in his eyes. “Not to tell you how to live your life or anythin’ but are you sure you wanna use your favor on a sleepover? Don’t you have other places to hide?”

Dream paused in his wrapping, fingers playing with the material. He cleared his throat. “Well, as you’ve pointed out,” he started, slow. “I’m kinda outmatched, and I don’t trust myself enough right now to deal with that on my own.”

“Alright,” Techno dragged, though there was a question implied there.

Dream was silent for a beat. “Do you have anything to drink? My throat’s killing me.”

"Yeah, hold on."

Techno disappeared further into the cabin, the sound of flowing water following soon. Dream sighed, and continued to bandage his wound. He’d have to get this conversation out of the way sooner or later, but that didn’t mean his nerves had to like it. 

In theory, there was no real reason to worry. 

In theory, Dream’s situation shouldn’t have been possible, but alas.

When Techno returned, a steaming cup of tea in his hands, Dream had finished fixing himself up. He accepted the drink with a quiet ‘thanks’ and lifted his mask just enough to take a sip. The hot liquid warmed his frozen insides more than the cabin's low heat, and he leaned back in his seat with a satisfied hum.

“This is really good,” Dream exhaled.

“Thanks, though I think your standards are kinda low,” Techno chuckled as he sunk into a chair by his workbench. Glittery crystals littered the surface, and he started crushing them. “Can’t imagine them servin' star quality food at prison.” Techno paused, glancing at Dream over his shoulder. “Not that I would know, of course.”

“Uh, sure,” Dream mumbled, a small grin pulling at his lips. Now that sounded like a story. “But yeah, no, you’re definitely right. Wanna guess what I’ve been getting for a, what, a month? Raw potatoes, Techno, raw potatoes,” Dream huffed, indignant. “I mean, what am I, some sort of pi—”

 By some unimaginable stroke of luck, his mouth managed to shut itself.

Okay, well, on the bright side, Ranboo was living right outside, but did he really want to explain how he managed to get thrown out in the first ten minutes? Probably not. Hey, he could also always just flee. Start a new life. Who cared, really, he might as well at this point.

Techno was staring at him, a dead look in his eyes. Somehow, miraculously, his lips were twitching up, though. “You gonna finish that, Dream?”

Dream grimaced under his mask. “Y’know, actually, I’m good.”

“Really? I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Dream took another long sip. “No idea where I was going with that. Wild, huh?”

“Truly,” Techno said, dry. A beat dropped. “Potatoes are pretty good, though.”

Dream couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up at that, a strange sort of glee blooming in his chest. Techno, too, snickered, any pretense offence melting away, “Seriously, I don’t know what you’re complainin’ about. That’s a perfectly nutritious meal with absolutely no toxins whatsoever. Totally up to prison code, if you ask me.”

“Pft, right, I’m definitely not gonna suffer from food poisoning or anything,” Dream huffed, rolling his eyes. “Absolutely no laws were broken, I’m sure.”

“Hey, you could always sue ‘em. Can’t see a way that’d backfire.”

Once more, Dream cackled at the image, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m not— Your ideas are great, but I’m not too sure about that one.”

“It would be pretty funny, though.”

“I— Well, I mean— I guess?” Dream giggled. “Would you be my lawyer, then?”

“If you really wanna get back to prison, sure.”

“Oh my god,” Dream exhaled, hanging and shaking his head. “That— Yeah, maybe let’s not.”

Techno laughed, the amused grin not once wavering, and huh.

This Technoblade and this world’s Dream were on… good terms.

Dream would know. He’d been on Techno’s bad side for long enough to know what it looked like. Even more on neutral. It wasn’t this. But that… wasn’t what Dream had been expecting.

Sure, he knew there was some sort of favor involved, so obviously they weren’t opposed to each other, but he’d thought that was it. It had to be it. He’d spent hours staring at the obsidian ceiling, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn’t have, to his counterpart. Or whatever. To all the accusations, to the scowls, to the glares, so personal (Dream avoided personal, too much trouble), until he finally came to the undeniable conclusion—the other Dream was not him. Not by any stretch of the sense. Maybe it was a whole other person that just so happened to share his name, his aesthetic, and look similar. But that was where the similarities ended. And yeah, maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but once the bitterness settled, he couldn’t shake off the distaste. 

And it would have been great and all, if Techno didn’t look at him like that. Like he was Dream. How, then, Tommy could almost immediately tell something was off, but not Techno? How come he was so relaxed, with his back turned to Dream, instead of holding a sword by his throat, demanding to know who he, an impostor, was? Because he wasn’t Dream. Clearly. Right?

Thoughts in their hurry stumbled over each other, and his mind was getting too frenzied to keep track of. He clenched the lukewarm cup, staring at the dark liquid inside.

“I think I’ve had enough potatoes to last me a lifetime, though,” Dream said, his laugh strained. “Do you, uh, think I could have some of your bread or something?”

“Sure, it’s in the cupboard by the stove,” Techno said with a dismissive wave, not looking up from his workbench. 

“Cool, thanks.”

With that, Dream got to his feet and followed where Techno had gone before. After a bit of wandering, he found the kitchen, though before he could enter it, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye, through a not-quite-closed door on his right. A soft green glow, almost swallowed by the darkness of the room. Curiosity spiked, silencing his torn head for a moment, and he glanced over his shoulder, the hallway empty. It should be fine if he only took a peek, right? Besides, it was practically open. That was as much of a permission as anything, really.

Quietly, he pushed the door aside and took a step inside. At first glance, it looked like some sort of storage place, chests lining the walls, but what immediately drew his focus was the pulsating Ender chest in the middle of it.

Holy shit.

He’d only ever seen these things a couple of times during some of his more luxurious heists. Never had he actually used one. To someone like him, constantly on the move and with nothing of significant value, he didn’t need them, but still. It was a sign of importance, a sign the owner was someone to be reckoned with, a sign of prestige. It made perfect sense Techno had one, even if his living situation was on the modest side, so unlike his own Techno’s. No matter the world, Techno was Technoblade.

Any thoughts of you peeked now get out get out now were pushed to the back as Dream approached the mythical box, drawn as if to a magnet. He knelt in front of it, mesmerized by the gentle glow of the Eye of Ender on top. He hovered his hand above it, and, for a moment, he thought he saw the eye follow the movement. A blink later, and it was back in place, staring blankly into nothing. Unnerving, but fascinating.

Slowly, Dream traced a side, the surface surprisingly warm. He stopped by the latch, lip catching between his teeth. The temptation to experience the within was unbearable. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn't, but his fingers were already around the metal, flipping it off. He gripped the edges of the lid, and lifted it up.

A void was staring back at him. Somehow, in the small square, an entire universe swirled, with sparks too grainy to be stars swimming inside. An entire separate dimension, right here, in Techno’s backroom.

Once again, holy shit.

Now, Dream had come this far. It’d be a shame to stop, right?

And so, he let his fingers graze the void’s surface. No reaction. Carefully, he sunk his hand inside. He couldn’t tell where it disappeared, where this universe started, but he could tell that the other side was pure nothing. Not a breeze, not a tingle, and never before had he forgotten the feeling of his own skin.

How anyone managed to create this was absolutely beyond him. To trap part of the End in a box… No human could have done this. There was no way.

If only he had more resources, more time, he’d—

Dream’s thoughts screeched to a halt once he brushed against something inside.

Wait… what?

Once again, Dream had never used an Ender chest before.

So, it was supposed to be empty.

As Dream gripped whatever he’d found and took it out, it became obvious that was clearly not the case.

It was a little, unassuming leather bag. He unwinded the rope and pulled it open, almost spilling out the contents from how much he jumped at the sight.

Precious jewels glimmered in the low light, more than Dream had ever held ten times over. From rubies to emeralds to diamonds to whatever else Dream couldn’t name, it was practically a small fortune. How the hell something so valuable got into Dream’s Ender chest was— was—

With a thundering heart, Dream tied up the bag and reached back into the void. A second later, he was pulling out a whole fucking sword out of there. A netherite, glowing with purple engravings sword. So light in his hand, the handle fitting it perfectly, the edge so sharp it hurt just to look at it. In short, something that definitely shouldn’t have been in Dream’s chest.

Unless, of course, this wasn’t his chest.

Now that he thought about it, the other Dream did commision the prison, didn’t he? A no doubt stupidly expensive project.

“What the fuck,” he whispered, staring at the lavish weapon.

Somehow, he had access to the other Dream’s Ender chest.

...Just who exactly was this Dream?

“Ah, there you are,” a voice came from behind, making Dream jump out of his skin. He leapt to his feet, twirling around, heart in his throat. Techno lifted a brow at him from where he was leaning against the doorframe. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, just…” He gestured vaguely at the chest with the sword. “Wanted to check on my things. Sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Techno said, shrugging. “You’re free to use it. Not like it does anything to my stuff.”

Dream smiled, relaxing with relief. “Thanks.”

Techno hummed, pushing away from the wood. “Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

With that, he disappeared, and Dream exhaled a deep breath.

Okay, that… He should have expected that. Okay.

He had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t in enemy territory. Not yet, anyway.

Dream crouched back to the chest and carefully slid the sword back in. A bit more wandering around revealed the place was nearly at full capacity, with how much metal he brushed against, bags of different materials and sizes, bottles, books, scrolls—a proper treasury. His fingers were inching to explore every single item, see just how rich this version of him was. And yeah, technically, they weren’t his things, so it’d probably be immoral, but, one, the Ender chest did open to him, recognizing him as the rightful owner, and, two, Dream couldn’t care less. He’d definitely steal from himself, no questions asked. 

Besides, that’d be pretty funny.

He’d leave it for another time, though. When Techno wasn’t around, maybe. Instead, he grasped a small sheath and took it out. The delicate handle, adorned with gemstones and complex engravings, felt too precious to hold, and Dream couldn’t help marvelling. The dagger itself, unsurprisingly, was encased in netherite, though without any enchantments. He sheathed the blade and attached to his hip, the weight of a weapon so close by bringing comfort.

Well, at the very least, he wasn’t poor anymore. Silver linings and all that?

~~~

Techno let him stay in a guest bedroom, which was more of a closet, honestly, but, hey, Dream would be the last person to complain. For the first time in weeks, he woke up with a back that didn’t threaten to break. He allowed himself to just lay in bed awhile, staring at the ceiling that finally wasn’t obsidian, and instead a red wood. Taking in the warm cabin’s air. A nice change, if you were to ask him.

When Dream finally left the room, Techno was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t bother Dream too much—after grabbing a snack, he wandered back to the Ender chest where he retrieved a couple of books. If he wanted to find out what had happened, learning more about his counterpart was as good a place to start as any.

Besides, he had to admit, the nagging need to know just what kind of person the other Dream was grated him.

So far, he was at a loss.

Dream curled up on a couch in the living room and dug into the first book, a worn thing, stained with small blotches of ink. Quickly enough, with a surprised laugh, he understood what Tommy had meant—

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but short, fictional stories were not it.

At first, he was mildly amused, flipping through the pages out of sheer curiosity. There was something oddly familiar about the way the letters curved, which words were chosen, how aggressively they were crossed out. Eventually, though, he found himself trying to guess how something would go, grinning whenever he’d get it right. As they progressed, they got more cohesive, covered more genres, and held Dream’s attention tighter. He was going through a particularly intense one, a mystery of sorts, until he turned the page and it was empty. Confused, he went through the rest, all blank.

If the date was the same here as back in Dream’s place, then the last entry was over a year ago.

Huh.

A pang of disappointment hit him. He’d wanted to know how it ended.

The entrance’s door knob rattled, and Techno stepped into the cabin, his coat and boots covered in fresh snow. Dream closed the book, setting it aside.

“Morning,” he greeted. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, had to feed the dogs,” Techno responded, shaking the white from his hair. 

“For… this long?”

“I still have a lot of dogs, Dream, despite Sapnap’s best efforts.”

Dream’s heart picked up at the name. He had no idea what Techno was referring to, but, clearly, Sapnap had played some sort of role in his life, meaning, a connection did exist between the three of them. Although, dogs? What, did he steal them or something? That’d just be weird, even for Sapnap.

Not like he could ask, though. At least, not yet.

“Right,” Dream murmured, watching as Techno finished getting out of his winter clothes. “Well, that’s good! Dogs are great. Though I guess I’m more of a cat person.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Techno said, side-eyeing him, as he took a seat by his work table. This time, a nearly finished curved wooden handle laid on it. “Any progress in your plannin’?”

“Uh, well, actually—”

He was cut off by the handle turning again, immediately setting Dream on edge. He snapped his head to the door, hand already hovering over his dagger, when a man walked in, mildly out a breath, large black wings folding behind him. Dream froze at the sight, gawking.

“Techno, I forgot to ask—” the man began, voice softer than Dream had anticipated, but halted once his eyes landed on Dream.

And so, there were the three of them, all staring at each other in dead silence.

...Should Dream start looking for an exit point?

“Ah,” finally, the man spoke up again, intelligently. “Dream… is here.”

“Oh right, yeah, he is,” Techno said, nodding. A pause. “...I might have forgotten to mention that.”

“You for— Techno,” the man groaned, exasperated. “That’s a pretty important detail, don’t you think?”

“In my defence—” Techno thought for a moment, then a moment more. “Yeah, I got nothin’.”

“That’s just— Okay,” he exhaled. “Well, when— when did he get there? Wasn’t he just in prison?”

“He showed up last night.” Techno shrugged. “Escaped, or somethin’. Dunno, didn’t look into it.”

On the one hand, it was a bit annoying they were talking as if Dream wasn’t right there. On the other, he really didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to say. He’d never seen this guy before in his life, but clearly, the guy knew him. This couldn’t end well.

“Oh gods,” the man muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Techno, people are going to be looking for him, and it won’t take a genius to look here.”

“You worry too much, Phil, it’ll be fine,” Techno said, waving dismissively. Oh, so this was the Philza Ranboo had mentioned? Dream… probably should have connected the dots. “He can hide in that barrel over there.” He gestured at the other side of the room with his head where the item stood. “Believe me, it’s foolproof.”

Dream eyed the barrel in doubt. “I don’t think I’d fit in there.”

“You would if you needed to. Trust me.”

“Dream, mate,” the man, Philza, sighed, turning to him. “It’s nothing personal, really, but—”

“I won’t be a bother,” Dream cut him off as he lifted his palms up. “And I’ll leave soon. It’s just for a short while.”

Philza rubbed his forehead, frowning. An odd look crossed his face, his eyes growing distant. He glanced back at Dream, his expression unreadable. “...Okay, if Techno’s fine with it, then alright. But I don’t want my backyard to become a warzone.”

 “Hey, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Techno, please. ”

“Yeah, no, I got it,” Dream assured, nodding. “It’s just—” He paused, taking a breath. His leg had started bouncing. “There’s, uh, there’s one detail I haven’t… mentioned yet.”

Philza winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s— I don’t know?” Dream chuckled meekly. He looked at Techno. “Remember I mentioned some trouble at the prison?”

“Uh-huh, yeah.”

“Well, I actually suffered a bit of head trauma,” Dream said, touching at the back of it. “I say a bit, but— I think I lost some of my memories.”

Because he wouldn’t be able to pretend for long he knew what anyone was talking about, and there was no way he was trying to convince them he wasn’t their Dream. For more reasons than one.

So yeah, this was the next best thing. He could only hope these guys wouldn’t find any cause to doubt him.

“You— what?” Philza stuttered, taken aback. “You mean, like amnesia?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess?”

Techno leaned back in his chair, humming. “Is it just me, or is memory loss becomin’ a trend? What happened to collectin’ stamps?

“I… don’t think stamps would help me here, Techno,” Dream cringed.

He considered that before nodding. “Fair point.”

“Okay, wait, hold on,” Philza said, shaking his head, hands up. “How bad is it? Is it just, like, a few things here and there or something worse?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” Dream blew a breath. “Hard to say what you forgot, y’know. But, uh, I think it’s… at least a few years?”

“A few years?!” Philza sputtered. “Wow, okay, that’s— that’s definitely worse.” He paused, a frown crossing his face. “Wait, but if it’s that long, and we met less than a year ago…”

“Yeah, sorry, I have no idea who you are,” Dream finally admitted with a stilted chuckle.

A beat dropped.

“Well, this is awkward,” Techno drawled.

“That’s— Holy shit,” Philza exhaled. “As if this situation couldn’t get any fucking weirder.”

The only reason Dream trusted this would work was because, according to Ranboo, Techno and the other Dream had known each other for far longer. If that wasn’t the case, well, that’d definitely be awkward.

“So, yeah, this is kinda why I wanna stay here for a bit,” Dream said. “‘Cause I’m a bit lost on what to do right now.”

“Gods, yeah, I would imagine,” Philza sighed. He grasped at his head, scowling. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself, then? I’m Philza, but Phil’s also fine.” A pause. “This is so fucking weird.”

“Hey, it’s also kinda funny, though,” Techno chuckled. “The great Dream, homeless and now with amnesia, too. Pick a struggle.”

Dream frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure I’m not homeless.”

To his surprise, Techno laughed at him, shaking his head, “Oh, so that he remembers. Okay, Dream, sure, keep insistin’ on that, I’m sure it’ll get you somewhere.”

“What is that supposed to—”

“Alright, keep it for later you two,” Philza cut him off. He sounded exhausted. “You said you got it from a head trauma—did you try any potions?”

“Uh, yeah, Sam gave me a health pot, but it didn’t really do anything.”

“Maybe you need a regen?..” he said, in thought, folding his arms. “I’d say go see a doctor, but you’re—” He glanced Dream up and down with a grimace. “You. Not sure how well that’d go, no offence.”

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone else would believe me,” Dream said with a sigh. “From what I understood, I’m not exactly well-liked.”

“No idea why,” Techno remarked, voice deadpan. “Truly a mystery of the century.”

“Thanks, Techno.”

Philza hummed, leaning back on a wall. “Mhm, you’re right, though. I can’t see many people buying a Dream-lost-his-memories story. That might just upset some of them more, honestly.” He shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’ll come back to you eventually. I’ll see if I can do anything about a regen potion. I can’t remember if I have all the materials right now.”

“I appreciate that, but you really don’t have to,” Dream stressed. That’d be such a huge waste of resources, and Dream was already imposing enough. “I’ll figure it out myself, seriously.” 

“It’s no problem, mate,” Philza said. “Besides, the sooner you recover, the sooner you can be on your way.”

“I guess, but still. Let me at least get the materials myself.”

Philza gave a half-shrug. “Alright, suit yourself.”

With that, he’d be able to stretch out this little endeavour enough so that maybe Philza would forget about it. He wasn’t sure what was the deal with head traumas, but he’d rather not risk raising more questions when no remedy helped.

“Wait, now that I think about it,” Techno spoke up, turning to look at Dream. “How come you remembered the favor? It wasn’t that long ago.”

His heart picked up. Now would be a good time to mention he had next to no idea how amnesia worked, and what a person could or couldn’t remember. Or anything of the matter. But hey, they didn’t necessarily need to know either, right?

“I— It’s very important to me,” Dream blurted. “I don’t know, just— Yeah.”

And that wasn’t even a lie—he had no doubt the favor was very important to the other Dream. It would be to both of them.

“Pft, can’t believe that was more important to you than Phil’s entire existence,” Techno laughed with a shake of his head. He reached out his hand towards Philza. “Phil, I’m so sorry, Phil, I would never do that to you.”

“I know, Techno,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“No, wait, I’m sure that’s not the case,” Dream insisted, already regretting his decisions in life. “That’s not what I— I don’t know how it works, alright? I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t stress, mate, it’s fine,” Philza assured him. Finally, he was looking at him with something of a smile, even if a small one. “I’m not offended.”

“Okay,” Dream breathed, his shoulders slumping. “Okay, cool. Yeah. Sorry.”

Philza opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by soft knocking. Techno and Philza glanced at each other, the latter gesturing to Dream with his head, brows raised, and Techno sighed, standing up. Dream continued sitting there, frozen, unsure of what to do. Neither of them looked particularly alarmed, so it wasn’t a threat, but from the concerned look on Philza’s face, it wasn’t anything good, either.

Meaning, Dream could connect the dots.

His nerves tensed.

Techno opened the door just enough to see outside, blocking the cabin’s view. “Yo.”

“Hey, Techno, sorry to bother,” came an all-too-familiar voice, though gentler than he’d grown accustomed to. “I was wondering if I could borrow some, uh, blaze powder? I just ran out, but I’ll return it to you.”

“Sure,” Techno spoke slowly. “Wait here.”

He left a small gap open and retreated into the room, heading for a cluttered cabinet at the far end. Dream held his breath as he watched him rummage through the various bottles and vials, muttering something about ‘serious déjà vu’ again. Whatever that meant. At least now he had an excuse to ask about it.

“Oh, actually,” Ranboo broke the silence, making Dream flinch, as he pushed the door more open. “I just remembered that… I…” He trailed off, freezing in his spot.

Him and Dream had met stares.

And okay, yeah, that was all it took for Dream to tell this was definitely the other Ranboo.

If the wide eyes, slightly open mouth, hitched breath didn’t make it clear, then the sudden look of terror was a dead giveaway.

Ranboo had… failed to mention to what extent this side of him disliked Dream, it seemed.

The bitterness was back on his tongue.

Out of his peripheral, Dream could see Philza tensing, pushing himself off the wall. He glanced between the two, taunt, before speaking, “Ranboo, hey—“

“What…” Ranboo breathed, barely above a whisper, cutting him off. His fingers around the door tightened, claws digging in. “What is he doing here?”

Well, off to a great start.

Chapter Text

Ranboo didn’t steal. Not by the definition of the word, at least. Sure, people didn’t know he was taking their things, but he always made sure to leave something of equal value behind, usually coins. If not for any other reason than his own conscience. Hey, at least someone had to know he wasn’t a bad person, right? Even if that someone was Ranboo himself. You took what you could get at this point.

Dream, clearly, didn’t have this inhibition.

As Ranboo waited in a narrow alley, away from sight, he watched as Dream traversed the busy open market, swiping an item here and there while the shopkeepers were distracted by customers. If anyone noticed, they kept silent. With how his white mask stood out, no doubt someone did, but reputation, or something. ‘You could use that, too,’ Dream had said. ‘Being feared is not always a bad thing.’

Ranboo puffed out a breath. Some part of him hated that he knew Dream was right. Hated that he knew he always had that when nothing else was left.

The other part of him was comforted. And he hated that, too.

When Dream made his way back, the two wordlessly retreated into a nearby empty shack they’d found before, where Dream dropped his extra sack on the dusty floor. From it, he retrieved a few pieces of clothing, apparently what he’d deemed “less suspicious” than Ranboo’s current outfit. And, alright, maybe the black robes he’d gone with would draw some questioning eyes, but, hey, they’d done their job, which was to keep him in the dark. When it was dark. Now, yeah. Probably not the best idea.

“I had the money for this, you know,” Ranboo said as he pulled on the offered purple cloak. The golden chain connecting the two parts felt out of place on him.

Dream hummed, taking a step back as if to observe him. “Best to save it for what you can’t steal.”

“Like?”

“Services, information.” He shrugged. “No one will care about a couple of missing clothes.”

“Still, it feels wrong,” Ranboo mumbled, exchanging his gloves for the new ones; shorter and fancier, of all things.

Dream was silent. With the mask hiding his face at all times, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. Something told Ranboo that probably was part of the reason for it.

At least it made it easier to look at him.

Eventually, Dream huffed, “We’re not rich enough to afford morals.”

Well—that was definitely a mindset, he’d give Dream that.

Ranboo didn’t respond.

“I also got you this,” Dream said once Ranboo had finished redressing, retrieving a black glossy mask. “What do you think?”

Ranboo took it. The design was simple enough; blank face except for painted-on white upturned eyes and—“Why a cat motif?”

Dream shrugged. “I dunno. You kinda remind me of one.”

Caught by surprise, Ranboo laughed, “Huh. Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“That’s… the mildest comparison I’ve had.”

He couldn’t say he disliked it.

Ranboo regarded the mask with a hum. “Isn’t this decorative, though?” He turned it over and lifted it up to his face. “I can’t exactly see.”

“Well, yeah, not yet, it’s like mine,” Dream said. “I’d need to enchant it. Thought I’d ask if you liked it first.”

Ranboo lowered it. He traced the outline of the ears, over the white eyes, down the sharpened chin. A cat, huh?

“Yeah, I do,” Ranboo murmured. “It’s nice.”

Dream straightened at that, nodding. If Ranboo had to guess, he’d say he looked pretty pleased with himself. Ranboo quirked a small smile at that. 

Dream was… interesting. If that was the right word for it.

Ranboo didn’t know what to think of him yet, frankly.

“And the rest?” Dream asked, gesturing at Ranboo up and down.

There was a dirty mirror hanging further down the hall, and Ranboo went over to inspect himself. Purple and gold had replaced the black he’d gotten so familiar with, the designs more intricate, flashier, more out there. Dream stood next to him, and even through the dust Ranboo could see how similar their styles now looked. Especially with the new mask. He opted not to comment on it.

“How is this going to make me look less suspicious, again?”

“You don’t wanna seem like you have something to hide.”

Ranboo glanced at him, lifting the black mask. Dream laughed with a shake of his head. “Plenty of people hide their faces. Next to me, it’ll look natural, even.”

“Why do you hide your face?” The question was out of Ranboo’s mouth before he realised. He winced, stepping back. “Sorry, I— I didn’t mean to ask that. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Dream said, waving it off. He paused. Slowly, he folded his arms, still staring at his murky reflection. He chuckled, “Huh, I haven’t thought about that in a while. I don’t really remember anymore, I guess.”

And Ranboo would have believed that if he was any more naive. Dream didn’t sound like he was lying, but he didn’t sound like he was telling the truth, either. Somewhere in the middle, somehow.

Dream turned to him, and Ranboo could tell that conversation was over. “There’s the issue with your hair, still. It’s way too recognisable as is.” He pulled off a glove, revealing scarred skin underneath, and reached up to catch a white lock. Ranboo tried not to flinch at the proximity, but just as quickly as Dream did, he let it go. "Yeah, dye should work on that, I think.”

Ranboo exhaled a stuttered breath, still winded from the fleeting second of contact. “You want— You want to dye my hair?”

“Yeah. The hood and the mask will hide most of it, anyway, but it’d be a good extra precaution,” he remarked. “Do you mind?”

“Uh, no, I guess not.” He pulled the coat’s hood over his head. It wasn’t as big as his previous one, and puffs of hair stuck out easily enough. “Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea.”

“Turn to me for a bit.”

Ranboo did, and Dream began adjusting the coat, once again making Ranboo tense. For a stranger, Dream was oddly… hands-on, in more ways than one. It wasn’t as if Ranboo hated contact per se, but more that contact rarely meant anything pleasant for him. Even now, when, rationally, he knew Dream wouldn’t do anything (it’d be the most convoluted attack Ranboo had ever encountered if he did), his nerves still screeched at him to step away, to put some distance between them, just in case. 

Fortunately, Dream didn’t tend to linger long. Enough to make it stick, not enough to cross some sort of line.

It put Ranboo on edge but didn’t tip him over.

Not yet, anyway.

“I think that’s a good size,” Dream said, more to himself. He pointed to his mouth area. “Are you keeping that?”

Ranboo reached up to touch his face mask, a strange sense of anxiety spiking. “Yes, it’s— It actually has a filter for, y’know, gas and such.” He shifted his weight, folding his arms. “My… hunter likes using those a lot.”

He could tell his voice got quieter, despite his efforts to keep it steady.

Before, he’d never talked about him.

He’d come to realize he’d prefer it that way.

“Oh, yeah, that’s smart,” Dream said, nodding. “Guess I’ll have to get one, too. I doubt we’ll be seeing the last of him.”

Ranboo shrugged. “It’s not exactly foolproof, but it still helps.” He paused. “Most of the time.”

Frankly, if he’d wanted to, he could have easily used more… fatal substances, something Ranboo had no way of countering.

His fingers dug into his arms.

Sometimes, Ranboo wished he did.

“You alright?”

Ranboo’s eyes fluttered open at Dream’s voice. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them.

“Sorry, I’m just—” Ranboo shook his head with a shaky exhale. “I don’t really like talking about it.”

“Well, it’s good that you are,” Dream said. He’d gotten closer in the time Ranboo wasn’t looking. “I need to know all I can about this.”

Ranboo hummed, his eyes wandering somewhere along the faded ground. “There really isn’t—” A humorless, dry laugh bubbled up. “There really isn’t much to say, honestly. Just— Same thing over and over. You should know, shouldn’t you, Dream?”

“I guess,” Dream dragged. A beat dropped. “What about him scares you so much?”

Despite flinching, Ranboo bristled, “I’m not scared of him.”

“I’ve met plenty of good liars, Ranboo, and you’re not one of them.”

He wanted to glare at Dream, but he couldn’t bring up his gaze. He never could, not when his skin prickled with discomfort, not when his chest hurt with how hard he tried to keep the rumble at bay, not when Dream’s stare was so heavy. So, instead, he said nothing and only walked away from the mirror, back to where he’d tossed his bag and other pouches. One by one, he clipped them on.

Still, he could feel Dream’s eyes on him. Sometimes, he really, really wished he couldn’t.

“I’m not scared of him,” Ranboo repeated, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m just tired. There’s a difference.”

If he said it enough times, one day it was bound to become true.

That was how it worked, right?

Right?

“Ranboo—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped, throwing a scowl in Dream direction.

Dream lifted his hands up in a placating manner. “I was gonna say you’re trying to put your sheath upside down.”

Ranboo glanced at it. Oh, he was.

A tightness built in his throat and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He couldn’t— He was losing it, and over, what? A few comments? The mere thought of him? When had he gotten so pathetic?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Shame burned at his insides. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m sorry.”

On top of everything, the last thing he needed right now was Dream, the only person who’s ever offered to help, getting annoyed with him so soon. All because Ranboo couldn’t keep his stupid emotions in check.

To his surprise, Dream huffed a laugh, “It’s alright, it takes more than that to offend me. And, hey, I get it.” Ranboo dropped his arms in favor of looking at him. Dream had paced over to his backpack and hauled it up. “The sun’s gonna set soon; we should leave if we wanna find shelter before night.”

After a pause, Ranboo nodded. Dream sounded… nonchalant, and Ranboo let his shoulders drop as tension slowly seeped out of them. Quietly, he sighed. Okay, okay, maybe he was still fine. Maybe Dream wasn’t lying. Regardless, though, he couldn’t afford to act like this. He shouldn’t be helping Dream realize Ranboo was more trouble than he was worth so soon. 

The two left the cabin, with the sun beginning to dip towards the horizon.

~~~

His hair had gotten long.

Though, to be fair, Ranboo had always worn his hair on the longer side, if shoulder-length could be considered long. Less for the style and more because, well, he couldn’t be bothered to keep it short. And, yeah, maybe it looked nice as well. At least, that was what he’d been told, a long while ago.

He gripped the scissors tighter.

Still couldn’t quite let that one go, huh.

Ranboo grabbed a fistful of hair, cold bitterness settling just north of apathy, and brought the blades up to it. Like this, he stared in the mirror for a good few seconds before dropping his hands with a puff of air. Stupid, it was so stupid, and yet he still couldn’t cut it all off. 

The bitterness moved back south and he let the scowl fall.

Instead, distantly, he took hold of the ends of his locks and started clipping away, just above his shoulders. When that was done, and Ranboo had gotten rather fast at it by now, he moved onto the bottle of black dye. Dream had told him to wait until he came back with his mask, but, frankly, Ranboo didn’t want to risk anything. In particular, he didn’t want to risk Dream suggesting he helped Ranboo with the dye. And Ranboo knew himself, he knew he wouldn’t say ‘no’, despite the building anxiety just from the mere thought of someone being so close for so long. 

So, he’d simply remove the option.

Dream would understand. He would.

(He was being a brat again— he didn’t need to explain himself— and that got him really far, huh?)

The one thing Ranboo had failed to think about before smearing his white side in black was how he’d get the dye out.

(At the back of his mind, he remembered he’d actually considered dyeing his hair some years back, when it all got worse. He’d forgotten why he never had. This was probably why.)

Annoyed at himself for this lack of foresight but too far gone to go back, Ranboo decided he’d just have to power through. So, he pulled on his old gloves—he’d rather not risk dirtying Dream’s new and fancy ones, even if they were stolen—and got to work. And by that, he meant heading to the bathroom and pouring a steady stream of water over his head into the sink. The moment it made contact with his scalp it burned, but Ranboo only bit into his lip to keep the whines down and continued on. The faster he got it done, the faster he’d be able to get the water out.

Ranboo was frantically scrubbing at his hair with a towel with more force than necessary when a stare made him jump. He yanked up his face mask and snapped to look at the doorway where Dream was standing, hand raised as if to knock on the wall. He dropped it.

“I lit the furnace,” he said, gesturing back towards the main room with his head. “For quicker drying.”

“Oh.” Ranboo slowly lowered the towel. “Isn’t that risky?”

Dream shrugged. “People mind their business in these parts of a city.”

“Ah. Thank you, then.”

Ranboo wrung the fabric between his hands, nerves spiking. He hoped Dream wouldn’t ask about it and just leave it be. What he would say, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to explain.

After another beat of staring, Dream turned away from him and walked out without another word. Ranboo released a relieved breath.

In the main room, Ranboo settled on the floor with his back turned to the fire and wrapped the towel around his shoulders to keep them from getting wet. The stinging was numbed by now, but he still felt like clawing at his scalp to get every lingering drop out. Luckily, none had gotten on his actual face. That… had always been a more sensitive area.

“Here,” Dream said, handing him the black cat mask. “You can try it on, now.”

Outwardly, it looked the same. When Ranboo flipped it over, though, barely visible glowing symbols littered the inside. None of them made any sense to him.

Idly, he realized this would be an incredibly easy way to curse him if Dream wanted to.

Masks weren’t only for hiding, after all.

He lifted it up to his face.

A surprised laugh bubbled up in his chest. “Oh wow, I can see now.” He turned to look around the room, the sight only vaguely hindered as if looking through a thin veil. “This is actually really cool.”

Dream chuckled, “Yeah, it is. Not to brag or anything, but I came up with that enchantment myself.” He tapped against his own mask. “Looking through two small holes isn’t as convenient as you’d think.”

“I’d guess not.” Ranboo lowered the item, looking up at Dream, quizzed. “I didn’t know you could enchant.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Ranboo.”

“That’s true,” he hummed, glancing down at the mask. “Still, you learned how to enchant but not lock-pick?” He made a face. “Seems kinda weird.”

Dream huffed, crossing his arms. “Not everyone had this sort of lifestyle their entire life, y’know.”

It was an obvious jab, and it did make Ranboo wince, but he also couldn’t help playing with the new straps. “Well, I didn’t either,” he said slowly.

“No?”

He wasn’t sure why he even said anything. Not like it was important. Not like it changed anything.

Again, he was being stupid.

“...Either way, I never had the chance to learn enchanting,” he settled on murmuring instead. “That seems… fancy. Um. You know what I mean.”

For a beat, there was silence.

“Would you like to?” Dream asked, and Ranboo couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or if he just didn’t know what else to say.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Ranboo picked at where the leather connected to the mask. How had Dream constructed that? “Seems like it’d be interesting.”

“Not just interesting, it’s more useful than you’d think,” Dream said as he went over to where Ranboo was huddled and sat on the ground in front of him, legs crossed. “Technically, you can enchant anything you want. It’s just a matter of practicality and actually getting the symbols to stick.”

Ranboo laughed, finding the thought weirdly funny. “Like— anything?”

Dream nodded. “Sure. Living, dead, inanimate, it all works by the same principles, in the end.”

Now, he couldn’t tell anymore if Dream was just messing with him or not. “‘Living’— I’m pretty sure you can’t enchant people, Dream,” he huffed. “I mean— That’d just be ridiculous, right? I’ve never heard of that before.”

He expected Dream to confirm that yes, that’s impossible and that’s not what he meant, but all he got was a strangely piercing stare, one that made him borderline seize up.

Ranboo swallowed, hard. “What? You… You can’t, right?”

“...Are you serious?” Dream asked, and it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded like genuine wonder.

Somehow, that was worse.

A tremble settled somewhere deep within his bones. He didn’t know why the thought was terrifying him so much, but it clung to him like hot metal, like a brand, and he couldn’t shake it off.

Before he could ask anything further, Dream reached out and touched the skin behind Ranboo’s left ear, making him freeze, breath caught in his throat.

“I only noticed it when you were drying your hair,” Dream said, quiet, tracing over the scar there. “What did you think this was?”

Horror, primal and raw, shot through his veins, and he scrambled back in a frenzy, just barely missing the furnace. Gasping for air that was suddenly so thin, he grasped at the scarred skin, as if to confirm the brand really was still there, when he’d spent years convincing himself it wasn’t, and it’d been just a dream, a really bad dream— one that turned into a hellish one as Dream’s words slowly sunk in. But that couldn’t— It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be possible, Dream was making it all up, he was only trying to scare him, to throw him back into that nightmare, to— to—

But Dream doesn’t know about any of that, he can’t know, he can’t

“No, you’re— you’re lying,” Ranboo managed to whimper out. “It can’t be what you're saying it— It can’t—”

“I’ve studied enough enchantments to recognize one when I see it,” Dream said, and it was so matter-of-fact, the simplest thing in the world, that it made Ranboo choke on a sob.

His nails dug into the skin around the scar. Before he knew it, he was clawing at it, desperation to get it off overpowering any of his senses, so much so that he didn’t register any of the stinging or the seeping liquid, he just needed to get it off, off, off—

It was burning him, like it did the first time, way back then, and he was sure if he didn’t get it off, he’d surely burn up along with it.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dream called, his voice only barely registering in Ranboo’s frantic mind. He did, however, notice he couldn’t move his arm anymore. Dream was holding him by his wrist, firm. “It’s okay, it’s inactive.”

Ranboo choked on air for a good several seconds more before Dream’s words registered.

“In… active?”

“Here, look.” Dream released his hand, which dropped uselessly into Ranboo’s lap, in favor of taking the black mask, flipping it to its inside. “See how all these symbols are glowing? That means the enchantment is active. Once it wears off, the glow disappears.” He gestured at Ranboo scar. “And yours isn’t glowing. So it’s inactive, and probably has been for a while by how old it looks.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so you don’t need to worry about it,” Dream said, shrugging. “And you definitely don’t need to claw your fucking ear off.”

Ranboo reached up to the sore area. His fingers came away red.

He winced. That… hadn’t been very smart of him.

“Hold on.” Dream stood up and went to his bag, returning with a piece of white clean cloth. “Here.”

Ranboo took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and pressed the material against the scratched area. He tried to stabilize his breathing, tried to push the terror out, but his heart had trouble calming, still.

“Are you—” Ranboo paused. “Are you sure it’s inactive?”

“Yes, but I can take a closer look at it if you want.”

Ranboo hesitated before nodding. Dream scooched closer until he was next to Ranboo’s side. He took the cloth and used one hand to lift up Ranboo’s hair away from the area, leaning in closer. Ranboo struggled to suppress a shiver at the closeness, especially when Dream began dabbing at any excess blood. Dream didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, the magic’s definitely gone,” he remarked with a hum. “It’s just a harmless scar now.”

“Okay,” Ranboo exhaled, closing his eyes for a second. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Another thought crossed his mind, one that made his anxiety spike.

“But can’t— can’t it be, I don’t know, reactivated or something?”

“No, that’s not how it works. Every enchantment has an expiration date, and there’s nothing you can do afterwards.” Dream still hadn’t let go of him. He sounded lost in thought. “Though, this is… a really crude way of enchanting someone.”

“That so?” Ranboo’s laugh was high and mirthless, more of a stress response than anything. “What, is there a more humane way of enchanting people?”

“Ink.” Was Dream’s simple answer. 

Why did he always sound so nonchalant?

Ranboo licked his dry lips, forcing himself to calm down. Sure, he couldn't be certain Dream was right or wasn't lying, and that'd mean he also could be wrong about the brand being an enchantment, but— Now that the idea rooted itself in, Ranboo couldn't let it go. Not only because what if Dream's right but also because it'd… make sense.

And that thought scared him more than anything.

There was another one that he was dreading to voice, though. A question that grated him from the second Dream dropped this information on him. Regardless of how the prospect terrified him, he had to know.

"Well, what's— what's it for, then?" Ranboo asked, and his voice barely went above a whisper. "The enchantment. What does— did it do?"

He was met with silence.

"Dream?"

A hum resounded in Dream's throat. "...I'm not sure," he said as he finally let go of Ranboo's hair and moved back, giving Ranboo space to breathe. "Enchantments on people are always more difficult to decipher. It isn't my speciality, either, so."

"But could you?" Ranboo was quick to ask, borderline plead, turning to look at him. "If you tried, could you figure it out?"

"If I had the time and resources, probably," Dream said, shrugging. He tilted his head at him. “It would be a lot of work, though.”

Ranboo glanced back down to the ground, jaw tight. He could understand what Dream was saying; it’d be work on top of what Dream was already giving him, something not defined in this odd deal of theirs. It’d be pointless work, too. The enchantment wasn’t active anymore, so it posed no threat. Knowing what it was would only be for settling his anxiety, if not to make it worse. He doubted it, though. Your mind could conjure much more terrifying prospects than what reality was, after all.

And Ranboo had nothing to offer Dream in return, not when he didn’t know what Dream even wanted from him in the first place.

“But if you really wanna know, we could take some detours,” Dream spoke in thought, pulling Ranboo out of his head. Ranboo snapped up at him. “Enchanting people is kinda taboo, so it’s not like any library is gonna have information on it, but I have a few ideas where I could look.”

“Y… Really?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “You’d do that?”

Dream chuckled, “Ranboo, you can always ask for my help if you need something. This deal won’t work if you don’t know you can rely on me, so I’m telling you now, you can. So don’t hesitate to ask, alright?” He shifted a bit closer as if demanding Ranboo’s full attention. “But I want to know that I can trust you in return. Can I?”

That… was an odd request. Or, not what Ranboo had been expecting, at least. He’d thought Dream would ask the same in exchange, help with whatever Dream would come to need. Something clear and to the point. Not prone to any misunderstandings. But trust? Trust was undefined. With help, he’d just need to follow Dream’s directions. With trust? It would be up to Ranboo to decide what exactly trust covered.

Trust took control from Dream and gave it to Ranboo.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Still, slowly, he nodded. Dream leaned back, and Ranboo thought he looked satisfied.

Ranboo would just have to figure out how he felt about it later.

~~~

It didn’t take long for Ranboo to adjust to the way of seeing through his new mask. Besides the somewhat washed out colors and mild haze, it didn’t hinder his sight enough to be of any sort of issue. The one thing that he still wasn’t quite used to was that it was a one-way street. He could see everyone’s faces, but they couldn’t see his, apparently. It was difficult to keep himself from flinching whenever he’d feel eyes gloss over it, even if, rationally, he realized it was just the mask.

Yeah, after hiding away in darkness for so long, traversing a busy city in the middle of the day wasn’t Ranboo’s idea for a fun and relaxing activity, exactly.

Dream staying close helped, though. A bit, at least. He found that, now, around others, he didn’t mind as much when Dream would tug on his sleeve to keep him going when he’d freeze up again. And if Dream’s hold lingered for a second longer than strictly necessary, up until his breathing had fully evened out and he could pretend nothing had happened, well, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it.

Less of the two evils, or something. At those times, he’d take anything he could to ground him.

One of the more effective means was talking; though, more often than not, silence hung between them. Ranboo too awkward to initiate, and Dream… Well, he almost always looked lost in thought. Not surprisingly. Frankly, Ranboo was a bit frightened to find out what was happening in his head.

Still, though, points would come when Ranboo couldn’t handle it anymore.

“What are we doing here, anyway?” he asked, a question he should have voiced probably a while ago. By now, they were in the depths of some flashy city, with busy streets, loud people, leaning buildings, and Ranboo couldn’t have felt more out of place.

“I’m looking for someone,” Dream said, sidestepping a lady rushing past him. She didn’t seem like she saw him. “I’m hoping a club here will have some information on his whereabouts.”

“Oh. Why are you looking for him?”

Dream was silent. He hummed, “We could do with his...” He paused, tilting his head. “Services? Help? I don’t know yet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Dream glanced up at him. A low chuckle sounded in his throat. “No, Ranboo, it’s not.”

“I— Okay?”

He didn’t get an elaboration. He almost asked for it, but in the end just bit his tongue and stayed quiet. Partly because if Dream didn’t want to continue, he wouldn’t, and partly because something else caught his attention, somewhere at the back of his head.

Could have been only his paranoia acting up again, though, so for a while, he said nothing. He waited for the feeling to go away, as they continued navigating the winding streets, waited for it to fade, but instead, it only got stronger. With it, his heartbeat kept climbing. It wasn’t only one, and maybe that was what unnerved him so much. He was used to one. But this was unknown, this was different, and Ranboo had to work to keep himself steady.

He opened his mouth to speak but Dream stopped them in front of some building. Its side was entirely made out of a one-way seeing glass, and Ranboo found himself staring at his reflection next to Dream’s. Dream turned to it, cocking his head, and lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. He huffed, though it sounded more like a giggle. Ranboo stared at him, dumbfounded.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m thinking—” Dream dragged, still looking at himself. Ranboo wondered if the people on the other side were used to passersby using their windows as mirrors. “—about if I should bleach my hair.”

Ranboo couldn’t help laughing in surprise, “What on earth for?”

“Well, you have your black hair and black mask, and I have my white mask, so it just seems intuitive.”

“I— I don’t think it sounds intuitive for anyone other than you if I’m being honest,” Ranboo tittered. “What, do you want us to look like a set or something?”

“I mean, it’d help you to stand out less,” he said, running a hand through his locks again. “And, c’mon, I’d look good with white hair. I’ve always wanted to try it out, actually.”

He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “If you say so, but I still can’t see the point.”

“Sometimes, Ranboo, the point is presentation.”

“I wouldn’t know much about that, honestly.”

“I can tell,” Dream drawled.

Ranboo wanted to quip back, but the feeling that’d momentarily got pushed to the side demanded his focus again, sharper than before. He suppressed a shiver, his mood souring.

“You okay?” Dream asked, looking up at him. How he could tell, Ranboo couldn’t know.

“No, we’re not,” Ranboo murmured. “We’re being followed.”

Dream tensed at that. He didn’t move his head, but Ranboo could tell his eyes flickered away. “How many?”

“Uh, more than one, I’m sure about that.”

“How long?”

“At least the, uh, the last few streets.” He glanced to the side, wringing his hands together. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just… wasn’t certain.”

Dream waved it off. “That’s fine. Still, in the future, tell me whenever you start suspecting something.”

“Mhm, yeah, okay.”

“Can you look around and see if you can find where they are? It’d be suspicious if I started looking around.”

“Yeah, I can try.”

Ranboo couldn’t actually tell from where someone was looking at him with great accuracy. A general direction, more than anything. The only good thing was that they’d by now entered a less populated neighborhood, so Ranboo had to be aware of less gazes. He still wasn’t sure how many people he was searching for, but once he locked eyes with one (or, at least, somewhere to the left), that wasn’t as important.

“By the fountain around the corner on the farthest right,” he said, turning back to Dream.

Dream hummed in acknowledgement. “See that alley over there where this building ends?” he asked, gesturing to its direction with his head. Ranboo followed the line of sight. “When I say, go there and circle back to the Bluebell’s inn we saw at the very start. You remember where that is?”

“I think I do, yes.” Ranboo cast a glance over his shoulder. They hadn’t moved. “What’re you going to do?”

Dream sighed. He sounded exasperated. “I need to lose them. This is what we get for travelling during the day,” he muttered. “It’s annoying how quick they can be.”

“Will you be okay?” The question was out of Ranboo’s mouth before his mind had caught up with it, startling him.

Dream looked up at him, head tilted. “Of course, I always am.”

And Ranboo almost believed that.

By the time Ranboo rounded the corner, the steady buzz of the street got broken up by yells, making him quicken his step. He didn’t want to run, despite his instincts screeching at him to. That could attract attention and, frankly, that was the last thing Ranboo wanted to deal with right now.

Maybe it was the cautiousness, or maybe anxiety, or a mix of both, but Ranboo ended up avoiding the main streets, the ones they’d taken before. Instead, he tried to find his way around through dark crevices and shady alleys, staying out of anyone’s sight as best as he could. It was easy to slip back into hiding when he was alone. He was good at that, and it was familiar, it was safe. Being out in the open on his own was… much too daunting, still.

That, however, led to him getting lost, to no one’s surprise.

He’d may or may not have lied a little bit when he’d said he remembered where that inn was.

When Ranboo stumbled across the same small inner yard for the third time, he had to admit, maybe taking such a detour wasn’t the brightest idea.

Hey, at least he was alone.

...Or, had been.

A shiver crept up his spine, one he’d gotten much too used to, and he whipped around, looking for the source. The place was quiet; the bustling of the city left somewhere to the side. It was an ordinary yard surrounded by connected buildings, and the only life around was the flowers blooming by doors and weeds peeking out through the cracks in the rocky ground. Maybe it was a cat on a windowsill somewhere. Or some curious resident, hidden behind blinds. Whatever it was, Ranboo should be leaving. It didn’t matter, it’d go away once he was gone, and yet. And yet.

Wood creaking disturbed the silence and Ranboo snapped up to the sound, to a balcony some ways to the side, already taking a defensive position, hands on his dual daggers.

He probably should have frozen up more than he had at the sight. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was because, somehow, he’d gotten better at distinguishing eyes, and the surprise factor wasn’t as prominent anymore.

Whatever the case, all he wanted to do was let his knees drop for once when he met stares with that godforsaken skull.

H— The hunter was above him, looking down, some measly wooden railings separating them. How he’d gotten up there or why were questions Ranboo couldn’t be bothered to think about. He couldn’t see the hunter’s hands, hidden in those wide sleeves of his, and, like always, paranoia wrecked him. He knew too well what those hands could do, how they could scare, how they could hurt. Once, Ranboo considered getting similar sleeves himself and saw how he liked it.

He never did, though.

Maybe because some part of him knew that probably was what he wanted.

“Got an outfit change?” the hunter spoke, his voice making Ranboo clench his teeth so hard it ached. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the hunter sounded almost amused. “Your new friend’s idea?”

Ranboo stayed silent. If there was one thing he’d learned by now was that he could not answer him. 

“I like it, looks classy.” He paused. “But I don’t like him, Ranboo.”

Yeah, you wouldn’t, would you?

“He’s a wanted man, y’know. A pretty big deal. You really think it’s the best idea to stick with him?” he asked, tilting his head. “I thought you wanted to avoid attention.”

Ranboo had to bite his tongue to keep himself from responding. He really, really was not getting the point, huh?

Something in the air shifted; maybe it was the wind, or maybe the hunter stood different. Either way, Ranboo couldn’t contain the tremble that settled.

“Ditch him, Ranboo,” the hunter said. It wasn’t a request. “Before someone gets hurt.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” The bitter words were out of Ranboo’s mouth before he could catch them. “Isn’t that what you’re doing here?”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” He stepped closer to the railing. The breeze was fluttering the ripped edges of his cloak. “Ditch him before he gets hurt.”

Ranboo went very, very still. In truth, he should have expected this. This whole twisted cat and mouse game depended on them being just that—a cat and a mouse. Of course his hunter wouldn't be happy if Ranboo went against those rules. Of course he'd try to put them back.

What Ranboo didn't expect was to hesitate. Normally, that'd be enough to make him back off. No way was he putting anyone in danger because of him. He knew his hunter didn't joke around. When he made a threat, he meant it. And maybe somewhere at the back of Ranboo’s mind this was what he'd been waiting for. For a good enough reason to throw this stupid idea out, some sort of confirmation that yeah, this couldn't have worked out. That Ranboo wasn't allowed anyone, that the only way to go on was on his own.

But then he also thought back to Dream and the brand and how he'd promised to decipher it. Just because. Back to his ridiculous idea of white hair and how he almost sounded excited about it all. Back to what Dream had asked of him.

This, he thought with startling realization, was what Dream probably had in mind.

...And, well, Ranboo always kept his word.

“No,” he said. His hold on the daggers tightened and he stood straighter, trying to keep his voice firm. “No, I won’t.”

A heavy silence hung between them.

“You think you can trust him?” the hunter asked, tone low. “You don’t think he has ulterior motives?”

“Of course he does,” Ranboo responded coolly. “But, honestly, I don’t care. If he wants something from me, he can have it. As long as it keeps me away from you.” He exhaled a shuddering breath. “If you want me to ditch him, leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that, Ranboo. You know that.”

And he did. Gods he did. In every paranoia-wrecked night, in every crushed note, in every stifled cry, the inevitability of it all suffocated him. Worse than anything, though, was the thought that this was all that was left for him.

And maybe he’d been ready to accept it. And maybe he was wrong for letting in the tiniest of hope at the prospect that things could change. But, maybe, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive for much longer otherwise.

“Then I’m sorry, but I’m not backing down,” Ranboo said. He could barely hear himself.

“That’s too bad.” A pause. “Well, I guess I should use any opportunity I have, then, huh?”

That was all it took to throw Ranboo’s heart into a frenzy and the next blink he’d whipped around, dashing back the way he’d come from. A thump sounded from behind him, and Ranboo didn’t need to look to tell the hunter had landed from the balcony onto the ground. He couldn’t fight him, he knew; his only saving grace was that he was still faster. With how these narrow alleys and streets winded, though, the risk of running into a dead-end was much too high for comfort. So, instead, despite the screeches in his head, he took a sharp turn into a bustling road. 

Or, what he’d thought to be a road by the sounds. But what opened up before him was a busy open market at its peak. Shouts of goods and prices mixed in with haggling, arguing, laughter, the bright colors of stands and customers, all shapes and sizes, all blended together into one chaotic blur, making Ranboo’s vision swim.

This many people in one place was nothing short of a nightmare for him.

A worse one awaited him behind, though.

So, Ranboo did the only thing he could. He held on tightly to his self-control, stifling the screams of terror, and dove into the crowd.

Bodies pushing against him, their voices so loud and so close, was almost enough for Ranboo to shut down in the first few seconds. Only due to sheer luck did he manage to grasp at the fleeting thought that he should crouch, get rid of that height of his. It was so much, it was too much, and he no doubt had stepped on some feet or ran into some shoulders. He couldn’t even mumble apologies in fear he wouldn’t be able to keep down the distressed warbles that were practically grating his throat.

The horror of being so out in the open for literally everyone to see threatened to overtake his consciousness at any moment.

No one seemed to pay him any mind, though. They pushed past him with their bags and their yells, sparing him nothing more than a passing glance. If only they knew. How long would it take? Seconds? Minutes? More? Would they ever know? Would they ever suspect someone not quite like them was within their midst? Would Ranboo be able to escape if they did?

All those thoughts and more, most incoherent, rampaged through his mind as Ranboo made his way across the square. He couldn’t tell if the hunter was on him anymore. There were far too many eyes, far too fast. Instead, he could only hope this stunt would work. That it’d be worth it. That Ranboo wasn’t going through all this for nothing.

When he’d finally reached the other side, emerging from the loud crowd into the less populated street, he could have fallen to his knees in relief right then and there. He didn’t, though, because he wasn’t yet safe. At the very least, this should have bought him some time to put more distance between them and, hopefully, lose him for the time being.

He still needed… he still needed to find that inn.

Ranboo traversed through the alleys at a quick pace, taking turns at random but away from the market, until he was confident enough he’d lost his pursuer. Only then did he return to his original goal. It was daunting, but he forced himself to go up to passerby and ask for directions. He couldn’t afford to get lost again, not when he knew what this city housed right now. With proper instructions, it didn’t take Ranboo too long to find his way towards the gates they’d entered through before. There, some ways to the side and away from any prying eyes, stood the Bluebell inn.

He’d gotten there first, it seemed.

Ranboo slunk into a gap between the inn and the next building, into the shadows, and leaned against the wall with a sigh. 

He’d stood his ground. He’d stood his ground.

That… wasn’t exactly usual for him. He could tell it took his hunter aback. Hell, it took Ranboo aback. But for once, he didn’t run, metaphorically speaking at least.

And, oh wow, that gave him a high. 

His heart was still thundering, but, little by little, the tension was leaving him now that he was away and with nothing else to do. He let his mind settle as he idly played with his dagger, something to fidget with. It was an old thing; he should sharpen it soon. His other weapons, too. Not that he used them that often. He’d rather avoid a fight than risk anything. Once again, Dream obviously didn’t share the sentiment.

Speaking of.

Someone approaching caught his attention and he looked up to see Dream round the building’s corner, meeting gazes with Ranboo.

“Okay, you’re here, that’s good,” Dream said, stepping closer to him. He sighed, “Sorry, I didn’t expect them to catch up that soon. Took me a while to shake them.”

“That’s alright,” Ranboo mumbled, his focus drawn to something else. Specifically, Dream’s left hand, which he was holding by his chest, clutching some sort of fabric, as red dripped down his arm, partly soaked up by the cloth. His mouth felt dry. “You’re hurt.”

Dream glanced down at his hand as if he’d forgotten about it. “Ah, yeah, a little bit. Managed to misstep somehow,” he chuckled.

“You said you’d be okay,” Ranboo scowled, a low trill mixing in with his words. Why this was irking him so much, he couldn’t tell.

Dream huffed, “And I am. This is nothing, c’mon.”

“It is something,” Ranboo muttered. His fingers twitched and he grabbed Dream’s uninjured arm, pulling him deeper into the alley. Dream didn’t protest but Ranboo could also feel his confused stare, which only made the annoyance grow.

There were a few crates strewn about further in, and Ranboo tugged Dream onto one of them while he took the next one. He took off his backpack and placed it by his feet, the silence oddly tense. Maybe that was his fault. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Give me your hand and water,” Ranboo said, turning his attention back to Dream. “I don’t carry any.”

He could almost imagine Dream rolling his eyes behind that mask. “Ranboo, I’m perfectly capable of—”

“I wasn’t asking,” Ranboo cut him off, dry. “Keep your word next time if you want me to back off.”

Dream was silent. Slowly, he dropped his own bag and took out a water flask from it, passing it to Ranboo. Then, he extended his injured hand to him.

Ranboo took hold of it, careful, and started peeling off the torn glove. It looked like some sort of blade had pierced through it, and Ranboo had to hold in a wince. He’d treated plenty of wounds to know his way around it. The bleeding had slowed by now, and after cleaning it with water, he dapped away any excess liquid. He could feel Dream’s fiery stare as he worked, somewhat of a distraction, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it a habit of snapping at Dream. Especially because of his own issues.

It was when Ranboo took out a small jar of green paste Dream finally looked away from him, perking up. “What’s that?”

“Healing gel. It has a similar effect to a healing potion, just weaker,” Ranboo said as he applied some of it on two pieces of clean cloth. “Doesn’t exhaust the body as much, either.”

“Huh. That’s interesting, never used something like that before.”

Ranboo shrugged. “It’s useful.”

Holding the cloths over the entry and exit wounds, Ranboo began wounding the bandage around the palm. He tried to ignore the nagging at the back of his mind that whispered how odd it was that Dream wasn’t aware of healing gels, such an essential part of any survivalist, especially one on the run. You’d think he didn’t get injured or something, but all the while Ranboo worked on his wound, Dream didn’t as much as twitch. Familiar with pain, then. It was the same nagging that wouldn’t let him let go of the fact Dream couldn’t lockpick, for some reason. Or the fact that all his traps for animals were shabby at best. Or how he knew enchanting, of all things, enough to recognize it from a scar.

And yet, his tracking skills were scary. He relieved creatures of their heads and limbs with practiced ease, as simple as breathing. He strode with the confidence of a man that didn’t fear to face the world, and instead embraced the challenge.

Ranboo would assume he just maybe hadn’t been on the run for that long, then, and had been some sort of… warrior instead. He’d assume that, if he hadn’t seen Dream’s wanted posters littering the streets as early as his own.

It didn’t add up. 

That plus Dream’s strange need for Ranboo should have been enough for warning bells to go off. And they were going off, frankly. But instead of listening to them, Ranboo wanted to dig further. He wanted to understand what exactly was happening here, and what he was getting himself into.

Before that, though, he needed to set some new ground rules.

Might as well use up this surge of boldness.

“Let’s not split up anymore,” Ranboo said as he let go of Dream’s now-bandaged hand.

Dream sighed, pulling it back. “Ranboo, seriously, I just misstepped. I can handle myself perfectly fine.”

“I know, but it’s not just about that.” Ranboo took a moment to gather his thoughts. He cringed, “I realize I haven’t exactly left a, uh, dependable impression, but I promise I’m more stable than I look. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately, but I’m working on it. So I don’t— I don’t want you to think I’m useless or something.”

“I don’t think you are,” Dream said. “You wouldn’t have lasted this long if you were.”

And that was such rational reasoning that Ranboo almost laughed.

“I guess, but— I feel like until I prove it, you’ll treat me like I am.”

He realized that sounded harsh and maybe a bit rude, but Ranboo couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. Fact was, Dream did treat him like some doll, and that only made him feel more miserable about himself.

Dream stared at him in silence. It was unnerving. “Just because I don’t want to involve you in my fights—” he started, slow, “—doesn’t mean I treat you as useless.”

“But you want to get involved in mine,” Ranboo countered. “So why’s that different?”

“You have one. I have three.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t be able to handle him if he was a regular hunter?”

The quiet was telling.

“Dream,” Ranboo said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice and failing miserably. “I don’t care if I deserve it or not. If you want this—” He gestured between them. “—to work, I need you to treat me as your equal. It can’t be some one-way thing.” He took a moment to take a breath. “You asked if you could trust me. Then trust me.”

Dream held his gaze for a moment before glancing away, tapping on his knee with his good fingers. In some odd way, it was almost funny how composed Dream looked, how unbothered, and yet the taunt lines in his shoulders betrayed his distaste of the conversation. It was because of those little things, the small details Ranboo would catch when Dream didn’t think he was looking, that he still wasn’t sure what his opinion of Dream was. There was something more to him, something Dream was trying hard to keep under wraps, and Ranboo didn’t know if he wanted to uncover them.

“Alright,” Dream finally said. His tone was carefully neutral. “I see your point. I still think it’d be better for you to stay on the sidelines, but if you insist.”

That wasn’t what Ranboo was arguing for, but he’d spent enough time with Dream now to know Dream understood that. And that it was the best he was going to get.

“Okay, thank you,” Ranboo said, nodding.

He’d just have to work with what he had.

Chapter Text

Ranboo, Dream decided, was an enigma.

To be fair, it wasn’t the first time he’d thought that about Ranboo, if a different version. But with said version, Dream had long since stopped trying to figure him out. At some point, he realized Ranboo would never let him, for reasons Dream couldn’t bother uncovering. Not that he really needed to figure Ranboo out; their arrangement worked well as it was. Dream didn’t need to understand him to trust him, as strange as that might sound. He was caught up in his own world, same as Dream, and beyond their shared interests, they didn’t cross. They didn’t hang out, didn’t chat just for the hell of it, but they also didn’t question the other. They didn’t question their positions, didn’t question the dynamic they had, because that was all needed agreement to function, and they both knew that.

It was almost elegant, in an odd sort of way, how their relationship worked. A mutual understanding of selfishness, of how they both used the other for their own gain, and that was something Dream could always fall back to. When it came down to it, Dream didn’t trust Ranboo like he would a friend; he trusted him like he would trust a wronged queen to poison her husband, and cry crocodile tears when the medics pronounced him dead.

Safer of the two, and less prone to disappointments.

It wasn’t like Dream expected the same dynamic here, with this Ranboo, not really. If anything, he’d assumed he’d act more like the Ranboo that everyone in his world knew. Apart from Dream, of course. He never felt the need to get to know the guy better, and the other side of Ranboo didn’t seem too keen on it, either.

(Maybe that was why this Ranboo kept taking him aback. Maybe that was why he didn’t quite know how to look at him. And maybe that was why he couldn’t trust him, even if he all but demanded it from Ranboo.)

But, truth was, Dream didn’t know what Ranboo acted like. One moment he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but with Dream, and the next he refused to leave his side. Paraphrasing here, but, well. Dream didn’t know how to take it. Maybe Ranboo himself didn’t know how he felt, and that was what made it so difficult for Dream to gauge him. 

Whatever the case, it made navigating this new relationship a bit more… challenging. There was that too much, not enough aspect again. What was too much attention? Too much consideration? Too much information? When was it not enough?

It was a white puzzle, and Ranboo being as closed off as he was wasn’t making it any easier.

Though, strangely enough, the past few days he seemed even more so. Specifically, following his little spiel. He barely initiated any conversations, and when Dream got him to talk, it never lasted for long. Whether it was Dream’s fault somehow, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t say he liked it.

Even Dream couldn’t stand the awkward silence forever.

“Let’s call it a night,” Dream spoke up, stretching, slowing down at an intersection. Even with the sun dipping towards the horizon, the streets buzzed with people, but no one paid them any mind. The mercies of big cities; no one bothered you as long as you didn’t bother them. “It’s getting late and I’m hungry. This seems like a dead-end, anyway.”

So far, all of the trails Dream had been following turned up cold. Annoying, to say the least.

Ranboo only shrugged. Dream glanced at him, sighing. “Are you hungry?”

“A little bit, I guess.”

“Okay, I suggest we go to a tavern and get something hot to eat for once,” Dream said as he looked around for any places. “I’ve gotten really tired of stale bread.”

Ranboo stared at him for a good second, and though his expression was fully covered, Dream could clearly make out the surprise.

“Y— A tavern? You mean, a very public place with a lot of people?” Ranboo asked, voice incredulous, and, yeah, he definitely wasn’t a fan.

“Ranboo, we’re in a very public place with a lot of people right now.”

“First, that’s different, and second, yeah, thanks for reminding me,” he said, dry.

Dream rolled his eyes. “You’ll never get over your aversion to people if you keep, y’know, avoiding them.”

“My aversion to people is what’s kept me alive, I’ll have you know,” Ranboo muttered, crossing his arms and turning somewhere to the side.

Even if that was true, which it no doubt was, it sure sounded dramatic.

“Alive, but not living,” Dream huffed. “Again, I’m not here to be a decoration, so you don’t need to worry about that right now. C’mon, relax a little. My treat.”

Ranboo was silent, still staring at some point at the ground, tense. It wasn’t like Dream didn’t understand the struggle, but, frankly, he was running out of ideas of what to do with him. A change of scenery, if you could say that, could do him well. Or the opposite. Hey, it’d probably do something.

“If you really don’t like it there, we’ll leave, how ‘bout that?” Dream finally asked.

Ranboo swayed his head for a beat, thinking, before he sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Alright, fine.”

“Great, I think I saw a place around the corner here.”

Luckily, the tavern Dream picked out wasn’t too crowded. It probably was too early for the serious drinkers, which Dream couldn’t feel upset about. When they entered, they attracted a few eyes, but they all quickly went back to their business. Maybe a bit too quickly, and Dream suppressed a chuckle at that. 

Really, Ranboo had nothing to fret about.

The two slid into a booth further inside, and Dream sighed in content as he could finally let his body rest. Ranboo wasn’t as quick to relax; stiff as a board, he kept glancing around, even if there wasn’t anyone near, so on edge it was a wonder how he didn’t cut himself on it.

“So, what do you want?” Dream asked, leaning back in his seat.

Ranboo turned back to him. “Um. I don’t know what they’re selling here?..”

Dream shrugged. “Probably the regular tavern stuff.”

“Right,” Ranboo murmured, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves. He didn’t offer anything else.

“...You’ve never been to a tavern, have you.”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Yeah, I should’ve figured,” Dream chuckled. “Well, uh, I’m guessing there’s mostly meats here. Also probably cheese, eggs, that sort of stuff. Things you’d get a drink or two with.” Dream tilted his head at him, in thought. “What do you drink, anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

“Oh, uh.” Ranboo rummaged through his bag and retrieved the flask Dream had seen a few times. “It’s just crushed berries. Not really a drink, but. Yeah. Best I can do.”

“Huh. So you do need to drink.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, playing with the bottle in his hands. He sounded somewhat uncomfortable. “Just not… as much, I guess.”

“Huh. Would, I dunno—” Dream rolled his wrist, “—juice fit you, then?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Yeah.”

“I’ll get you that, then. And to eat?”

Ranboo hummed, still tugging on the straps of his flask. “Would they have, uh, roasted nuts or something?”

Odd choice, but whatever. “I can definitely ask,” Dream said, nodding, and stood up. “Be right back.”

With that, Dream left the table and headed for the bar. The bartender gave him a lazy look-over before taking his order, no doubt used to unusual clientele by now. Surprisingly, they did have roasted chestnuts—seasonal special, or something—and after asking for some pork for himself and a couple of drinks, paying, Dream returned to his spot. Ranboo had scooched closer to the wall, hands intertwined on the table, tapping on its surface in an erratic manner. Once Dream sat back in front of him, his movements slowed, though.

While it was still far from relaxing around Dream, at least Ranboo associated him with less danger, and, frankly, it was as much as Dream could ask for right now.

“Yeah, they did have chestnuts,” Dream said. “Weird choice for dinner, though.”

Ranboo shrugged. “Haven’t had any in a while.”

“Can’t imagine you’re carrying around an oven, so yeah, I’d guess so.”

Ranboo, again, shrugged.

That seemed to be a default for him these days.

“Do you even eat anything besides berries and fruit? ‘Cause, I swear, that’s all I’ve seen you have.”

Ranboo seemed focused on his hands. “Easier to get.”

“Not much of a hunter?”

He only hummed in response.

Now, Dream wasn’t bad at conversations when he wanted to, but this was just sad.

Groaning, he threw his head back. “Gods, Ranboo, relax a little, would you? I feel like I’m talking to a wall here.”

“Sorry,” Ranboo mumbled. “Not my favorite type of place.”

“No, I mean— in general,” Dream scowled, leaning forwards over the table. “What’s gotten into you?”

As if in response, Ranboo leaned back. “I… I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me,” Dream huffed. “You’ve been acting as if I’m about to jump you, or something. If you have some sort of problem, just say it.”

“I don’t,” Ranboo was quick to deny. “I don’t have a problem with you. It— It’s a personal thing, I’m sorry.”

“‘It’s not you, it’s me’,” Dream mocked before shaking his head. “Well, this personal thing is making it really difficult to talk to you, which, not sure if you’re aware, but is kinda important for this to work.”

Ranboo didn’t respond, his head turned to the side. His shoulders had, somehow, had gotten even more rigid. Dream wasn’t going to get anywhere like this, not when Ranboo was being so difficult. Maybe he should drop the entire thing and go silent, too. See how long it’d take for Ranboo to crack. That at least sounded less annoying, if way more awkward.

Before he could decide on his next move, a barmaid approached their table with their food and drinks. Ranboo seemed relieved for the distraction and got to working on his nuts without another word. Dream let it be, and focused on his own meal. Not the best thing in the world with how dry and under-salted the piece of meat was, but, hey, it was warm and that was all he wanted. At least the mead was nice.

For a while, a silence hung between them, interrupted only by the low rumbling of the tavern and utensils clanking against plates. Dream would glance at the entrance whenever someone entered, just to keep an eye on their surroundings, but everything seemed calm for now. At some point, he realized Ranboo had begun staring at him. He lifted his head up at him, at which Ranboo tensed. His fingers on a chestnut stilled and he was visibly on edge. Before Dream could ask if anything was wrong, he cleared his throat.

“Do you want any?” he asked, pushing his bowl towards Dream a little bit.

Dream almost laughed. Well, peace offerings came in all shapes and sizes, really.

“Sure,” he said, taking one nut and peeling it open. It was barely warm by now. He popped it into his mouth, tasting. “Mm, it’s good.”

“Yeah.”

With a hum, Dream rested his head in his palm and slowly chewed. Waiting. He wouldn’t push, not this time, but Ranboo really needed to get his act together sooner rather than later.

Ranboo was pointedly focused on the nut between his fingers, though he was more fidgeting with it than anything. Eventually, though, he sighed, and Dream perked up.

“I met him,” Ranboo spoke up, hesitant. “My hunter, I mean.”

Dream straightened at that, alert. That he definitely hadn’t been aware of. “When?”

“Back when we separated.” He paused. “Nothing happened, really. We just… talked.”

“Just talked,” Dream repeated, frowning. “Really?”

“Mhm. He did chase me for a bit, but… I think it was more of a scare tactic than anything,” Ranboo murmured with a shrug.

“Uh-huh. Not sure what world you two live in, but I don’t exactly chat with my hunters,” Dream remarked.

“I don’t either,” Ranboo muttered, defensive. “It wasn’t— It wasn’t a chat. He just… said some things.”

“Let me guess, he threatened you or something.”

“He threatened you,” Ranboo retorted. “Specifically.”

A beat dropped. Then, Dream chuckled with a shake of his head, “Huh, what a surprise,” he drawled. “Wonder what I could have done to piss him off.” When Ranboo only continued staring at him, Dream huffed, “Don’t tell me that’s what got you all bothered? Do you think I don’t know some people aren’t gonna like me hanging around you?”

“It’s more than that,” Ranboo said, quiet. “I didn’t… I just didn’t think he’d target you.”

“What did you think? That he’d just ignore me?”

“Well, no, but…” Ranboo trailed off. “It’s different. He… He doesn’t hunt his targets like you’re used to.”

“So you’ve said. You don’t know what I’m used to, though.” Dream folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. “Seriously, Ranboo, I can deal with whatever you throw at me. Have some confidence in me, will you?”

“It’s not that,” Ranboo sighed, slumping down. “I know you’re capable, but if you do get hurt, that’d be my fault. He gave me a chance to back out of that, and I just… didn’t.”

Yeah, this sort of behavior definitely wasn’t something Dream was used to working with.

“Gods, Ranboo,” he groaned, hanging his head. “That’s really not how all this works.” He snapped it back up, scowling. “If I get hurt, that’s on me. Period. End of story. So get those stupid thoughts out of your head and stop complaining so much.”

Ranboo sputtered, taken aback, “Wh— I’m not complaining!”

“Then take what I’m giving you and relax for once.”

Ranboo only crossed his arms and turned to the side, muttering something under his breath. Not for the first time, Dream wondered how old Ranboo actually was. That had never come up, and he wasn’t sure if his species even aged the same way. Never seemed important enough to find out. In this context, though, it could explain some things.

The door opened once more and Dream’s eyes instinctually flickered over, ready to retreat after a second, though he couldn’t help but linger on the odd man that entered. At first glance, he looked human, but his features were far too sharp and off just enough to make Dream doubt it. When he moved to pull down his hood, he revealed blackened hands, something like stars embedded into them, which only confirmed Dream’s suspicions, though he couldn’t tell what exactly this guy was. His stark blue hair, jeweled neck, and flashy long purple cloak gleaming with crystals screamed eccentricity, and not the type that’d be usual for these sorts of places. He looked around as he went further in, ignoring all the stares he was getting, until his eyes landed on Dream.

Immediately, his expression morphed into one of relief, which was quickly replaced by annoyance as he began striding towards him. Now that put Dream on edge, and he straightened in response, letting his hand rest on the dagger strapped to his thigh. He’d really like to avoid a fight here, especially when he didn’t know what he’d be going up against, but if push came to shove, well. The table wasn’t rooted in place, so that’d be the first thing he’d go for, and the dagger would have to do, what with how cramped the space was. The man seemed more of a magic type than melee, though, so he couldn’t risk prolonging anything since he didn’t have any of his regular protection enchantments—

“For gods’ sake, there you are!” the man snapped once he was close enough, and Dream stilled. He sounded… irritated, but not outright hostile. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve been looking for you?”

He was acting familiar with Dream, okay, okay, that was… Yeah, that wasn’t good. He was probably supposed to know who this guy was, then. Never a great situation to be in when you were an imposter. Besides the hunters, Dream hadn’t met anyone who’d know him beyond “oh that’s the guy on the wanted posters”, so he’d begun to think there maybe wasn’t, which, in hindsight, that was kinda stupid.

“Uh, sorry?..” Dream offered, unsure of what else he could say here.

Maybe a fight wasn’t out of the question yet. That seemed like the easier option of getting out of this conversation, frankly.

“‘Sorry’? You’re— No, Dream, sorry’s not gonna cut it here,” he scowled, stopping right next to their table. “If you wanted to bail, you should have told me that, oh, I don’t know, two months ago maybe? Not when there are three fucking days left. That’s just— Honestly, I know you think you can do whatever the hell you want and get away with it, but this is just ridiculous. I have a lot riding on this, too, you know, and I’m almost at my limit here. Seriously, why did you just disappear like that without saying anything?”

Yeah, he had exactly zero idea what this guy was talking about. This should go well.

“Ah, yeah, I kinda got distracted and, uh, forgot about it,” Dream tried, slowly, though even he could tell it sounded more like a question. Safe to say, being put on the spot like this was not something he knew how to deal with well.

The guy stared at him for a good couple of seconds, his face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Dream, that is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard from you, and that’s saying a lot,” he dragged. “You forgot about it? Weren’t you the one that literally begged me to put you together with Techno for almost a year ? How could you just— I really, really don’t understand what the fuck’s going on here.”

Okay, Dream still was beyond confused but the word Techno immediately grabbed his attention. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but what were the chances it could be anyone else that Dream would know and had their name shortened to “Techno”? Definitely slim. Wherever Dream was supposed to be, this man was implying Techno should be, too.

If so, this just shifted from “get out of this conversation as quickly as possible” to “wait, continue talking”.

“Is Technoblade there already?” Dream asked, observing the guy’s reaction.

“Yes, as is almost everyone else, because they can actually set their priorities straight. Do you have any idea how many people were on my back when you didn’t show up to the training matches?” The guy frowned. “You’re lucky your team didn’t vote to kick you out.”

Training matches, teams, alright, Dream was beginning to put a vague picture together. Some sort of competition, maybe?

Had he read about such a thing in that notebook? He couldn’t remember.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been really busy with my, uh, hunters, and such,” Dream said, careful. “Didn’t want to lead them back, y’know.”

He was shooting in the dark here, but if he’d guessed right, whatever event he was supposed to be part of wasn’t on the surface level.

The guy sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You still should have warned me. At least I would’ve had an explanation, and you know, a reassurance. The people don’t like it when the team with the highest bets has problems, which then I have to deal with.”

Some sort of competition with an audience, then, huh? An audience that was primarily favoring his team? Now that… That filled him with a strange sense.

Being on the favored team wasn’t exactly what Dream was known for.

“Right, yeah. I just thought you’d cover for me. Make something up, y’know.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I? So if anyone asks, your grandma died.”

Dream couldn’t help laughing at that, “Wow, you killed my whole grandma just for that?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not gonna be the only funeral in the family if we don’t get a move on,” the guy said, dry. “Now come on, we should still make it if we leave now.”

A slight shift in his peripheral caught Dream’s attention, and only then did he realize he’d gotten so focused on this guy that Ranboo managed to slip from his mind. He’d gotten so still and quiet that it was no wonder, though. Now, however, Dream could see how tense he was, clearly not happy with this new development. In any other situation, Dream would agree. Something told him that, wherever they’d be going, there would be more people that’d know Dream. Not an ideal environment, to say the least. He could bullshit for a while, sure, but it was impossible to tell what he’d have to bullshit about and for how long he’d be able to keep it up. He’d rather avoid places where he’d be at an immediate disadvantage.

Then there was Ranboo’s whole thing. From the sounds of it, this had to be a rather large event, so that on its own could cause problems. On the other hand, it also sounded like this was an underground event, meaning, it wouldn’t be good for business if it was accessible to hunters. All Ranboo would have to do is not draw any attention to himself, and he should be fine. He definitely wouldn’t be happy about it, though.

If this was all Dream had to work with, he’d be finding a way out of this conversation. Not worth the risk. But, of course, there was also Technoblade. Searching for him was a goddamn nightmare with how elusive he was. You had to know the right people, and Dream didn’t know people. If Techno was participating in this event, this might be Dream’s best chance at meeting with him.

He couldn’t let it slip by.

“How far away are we, again?” Dream asked, standing up. Slowly, Ranboo followed suit.

“Two days should be… enough…” the man trailed off, his attention taken by Ranboo. “Sorry, is your, uh, companion coming with?”

“Yeah,” Dream said. “Why, is that a problem?”

“Well, that’d be a bit… unusual for you, but I guess not,” he remarked with a hum, giving Ranboo a once-over. He pulled a polite smile at him. “Hi, I’m Scott, by the way.”

Thank gods Dream finally had a name. That could have gotten him into tricky situations down the line.

“Hi,” Ranboo offered in response.

Scott looked like he was expecting something more, probably a name, too, but Ranboo stayed silent. A couple of awkward moments passed like that until Scott cleared his throat. “Well, shall we go?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and headed for the exit, Dream following. Wordlessly, Ranboo fell a bit behind, shadowing him. The tension was radiating off of him in waves, as was expected. The still busy streets didn’t help, either.

“How come you’ve ended up here of all places, anyway?” Scott asked, looking at Dream over his shoulder. “Not your usual territory.”

“Had some business in the area,” he said with a shrug. He paused, a thought occurring. Not his usual territory, huh? “How did you find me?”

“Got a tip. Luckily for us, you’ve got a recognizable face,” Scott huffed. “Or, well, lack of it.”

Dream hummed in response. Maybe he’d been a bit too much out in the open lately. No wonder his hunters didn’t have a lot of issues finding him. He’d have to rethink his strategy after this was taken care of.

Once silence had fallen between them, Dream felt a slight tug at his sleeve. Getting the hint, he slowed just enough to put some more distance between them and Scott, who seemed preoccupied with navigating through the winding streets to pay them much mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ranboo leaning in closer.

“Where are we going?” he whispered.

That’s a very good question. Dream took a moment to ponder. “A, uh, tournament of sorts,” he said. He was pretty certain about that point by now. “...I’d genuinely forgotten about it.”

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t remember reading anything related in his notes. He’d have to look over them later in case he’d missed something.

“How big is it?”

Dream chuckled. Judging from the fact that Technoblade, of all people, was attending, he had a pretty good guess. “It’s decent, I guess.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“What’s an underground tournament without some danger?”

Ranboo fell quiet. He didn’t move away just yet, though.

“Listen, this is good, alright? Technoblade’s gonna be there, and we actually need him. Just stay by the sidelines and it’ll be fine.”

A beat passed. “I don’t like this.”

Dream sighed. “Yeah, I know you don’t.”

“No, I mean— It doesn’t feel right,” Ranboo murmured. “They got a tip about where you are now? To participate in some dangerous competition, where, y’know, people can die?”

“I’ve done this before and I’ve been fine,” Dream said, and he felt good about that guess, too. Scott was acting way too familiar with him for that not to be the case. “You’re paranoid, Ranboo.”

“One of us has to be,” he muttered. “Just… be careful.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Disregarding everything, this would be Dream’s first real look into what the other him actually did with his life. So far, he didn’t have much to go off on, besides the whole being-hunted part. Whatever notes he had provided little insight, too.

Not that Dream cared that much, anyway.

This lack of information on his counterpart’s life wasn’t surprising. 

Scott, once the irritation faded away, proved to be quite chatty, a stark difference to what Dream had gotten used to lately. Not that Dream complained. The opposite, really; the guy was the first person besides Ranboo he could engage in an actual conversation with. A conversation that Dream took extra care to steer away from him and to whatever Scott had to offer about… anything, really. Any information about this place was good information, even if getting more hints about the event they were heading towards without appearing suspicious was somewhat of a challenge. Still, though, details piled, and eventually, Dream had a decent enough idea about what he was about to be thrown into.

And, honestly? It probably was a good idea Dream didn’t decide to bolt instead.

Not only did the people behind it seem like someone you didn’t want to make enemies of, but the whole event in general sounded exciting. And though it hasn’t been that long since Dream’s last proper “exciting”, it was the type that, well, hadn’t really existed in his place for quite a while. A bit of underground entertainment, pure and simple. It was the sort of thing that, if the circumstances were different, he could imagine being popular back in his own world.

It was always if the circumstances were different, huh?

If the circumstances were different, it wouldn’t be him who would be going to this event. He wouldn’t even be free. That… was a weird thought. It led to another, weirder thought. If circumstances didn’t change but instead switch, that would mean this world’s… Dream was the one who probably wasn’t free. At least, if things went like Dream had expected them to. Internally, he winced. Somehow, he felt like, in this situation, the other Dream drew the short end of the stick, all things considered.

He’d understand, though. If he was anything like Dream (and he was supposed to be, right?), and he knew the why’s, he’d understand.

Yeah, but he doesn’t know the why’s. Who’s to say he hasn’t already fucked everything up?

His fingers dug into his palms. That was why he really didn’t like to think about all these damn circumstances. No matter how much he stressed about it, came up with a million different scenarios of what could be happening over there, lay awake at night as nerves and frustration ate at him, it wouldn’t change anything. No, he had to focus on actually acting . Of moving towards getting back. Having Ranboo was a good start, but he was only as useful as Dream could make him be. It was a question whether he’d be able to bring him to that point in general, if Ranboo’s demeanor was anything to go by.

Issue was, this clearly was a problem not only of this world, but of his own, too. Dream knew where to look for possible solutions only because of his, if limited, knowledge on realms and dimensions. Information that wasn’t easy to come by, and pretty useless aside from satisfying a curiosity. Information that he seriously doubted the other him possessed. Frankly, his main hope was his Ranboo. He was a smart one, so he was bound to figure out what had happened, at least the gist of it. Maybe he’d have some ideas on how to reverse it, too.

Gods, if only he could talk to him.

If only he could talk to Punz, too. Let him know what had happened, that the plan was still on the table, if somewhat delayed. That he didn’t leave by design.

He’d sleep much easier at night if he could have just one minute with them.

Maybe he could look into that, too. Ha, wouldn’t that be an accomplishment. Interdimensional communication. 

Right. If things could ever be that easy for him.

Chapter Text

The day had barely begun and Phil was already tired.

Now, when he said he had nothing personal against Dream, it wasn’t entirely true, which was, by no means, a secret. Sure, they’d worked together, but it was more so for… convenience’s sake. Hey, if a crazed man wanted to blow up a place that you weren’t too fond of either and didn’t ideologically oppose to the idea, why not join in, right?

Right. Besides that, yeah, Phil couldn’t say he was a fan.

That was as much as his dislike went, though. ‘Not a fan.’ ‘Would prefer if the guy stayed off my property.' That sort of thing. While Phil agreed to rid the place of L’manburg, that was pretty much the extent to which he could see eye-to-eye with the guy. But he was also aware of the… odd relationship Dream and Techno had, one Techno rarely discussed. Phil knew there was some sort of favor system going on between the two, though, besides that, he wasn’t sure on what terms they were. At the very least, not negative, he was pretty certain about that.

All that to say, if Techno was allowing Dream to stay over for some amount of time for whatever reason, Phil wasn’t going to oppose that. He wouldn’t be overjoyed, sure, but as long as Dream didn’t try murdering any of them in their sleep, whatever. And if he really had suffered some sort of trauma which made him an amnesiac, well. Maybe it was a good thing for him to stay low around people that wouldn’t immediately go for his head.

But, well. Their little commune consisted of more than just Phil and Techno.

Now, Phil didn’t know what exactly Ranboo’s stance regarding Dream was, but from what he’d gathered, ‘not fond’ would be putting it mildly. The way his fingers were digging into the doorframe, a tremble already taking hold of them, wasn’t a sign of delight, and Phil… wasn’t sure how this one would go.

Once again, the day had barely started.

“What is he doing here?”

A loud beat of silence hung in the air as Phil glanced between Ranboo and Dream, still on the couch, who was deadly silent, his shoulders tense. If Phil only had a notion of Ranboo’s opinion of Dream, then he had no idea what Dream himself thought of Ranboo. Or, had thought? If he didn’t remember Phil, then Ranboo should be the same, right?

Was that a good or a bad thing?

Fuck, this sure was one hell of a mess.

“Oh, you mean Dream?” Techno was the first to break the silence, the feigned apathy not going unnoticed. Phil could feel his pain—awkward situations weren’t Techno’s strong suit. “Well, you know, just chillin’. As one does.”

Ranboo took a shaky breath, his eyes flickering from Dream to Techno. “He— He’s— He’s supposed to be in prison, why is he— why— why— is he here?” 

“I escaped,” Dream spoke up, mildly surprising Phil. With how on edge he looked, Phil had half assumed he’d remain silent and would make him and Techno deal with it. “And Techno owes me one, so I asked him to hide me.”

Phil stared at Dream. There was something about the phrasing that was… off, in some way. Less defensive than he’d expected. Which, well. It made him think.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Techno said with a shrug.

Another heavy beat dropped.

Weakly, Ranboo shook his head, taking a small step back. “That’s— That’s not— that’s not right, he shouldn’t just— be out!..”

“Ranboo, mate,” Phil sighed. “We’re not exactly on the side of the law here. You know, the whole blowing up a country together thing?” If anything, it did make Phil wonder why everyone had gone only after Dream. Thinking about it, why had been imprisoned, anyway? He’d never looked into it. “But if he does any stupid shit, we’ll kick him out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ranboo let go of the door frame, swaying dangerously. For a second, he shut his eyes tightly and exhaled another trembling breath. “I’m— I’m gonna go, actually, I can’t— yeah, I’m going, I’m sorry.”

With that, he turned on his heel and fled down the stairs with a hasty step, a string of mutterings following. 

Well, all things considered, that could have gone worse.

It was too early in the day for this.

Silence hung for a moment before Techno drawled, “Might just be me, but I get the feelin’ he’s gonna go snitch. Might just be me, though.”

Phil cringed. “Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure he is. Poor guy looked fucking freaked.”

As if sparked by something, Dream jumped to his feet, startling Phil. He crossed the room in a few strides and Phil just barely managed to catch the door to prevent him from barging out.

“Dream,” he warned, eyes narrowing. “I meant what I said about kicking you out.”

For a brief second, Dream faltered, but, recovering quickly, he unlatched his lone dagger from his hip and tossed it onto the nearby work table. “I just wanna talk to him, that’s all,” he said as he lifted his hands up. “I won’t do any ‘stupid shit’.”

‘Amicable’ wasn’t a word he would have ever used to describe Dream, so it was bizarre how close his behavior rang to it right now.

Phil exchanged glances with Techno, who, very helpfully, only shrugged. After a short consideration, Phil sighed and let his arm fall, moving aside. Without another word, Dream dashed through the door and down the stairs. If something were to happen, the two wouldn’t be far enough to go unheard, leaving ample time for intervention. For both of their sakes, Phil hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Rubbing his temple in exasperation, Phil closed the door. This sure was a development.

“Do you believe him?” he asked, turning to Techno. He’d moved to one of the windows, lazily glancing outside, though it was difficult to miss the sharp look in his eye.

Techno hummed. “I don’t see why not,” he said. His lips quirked up as he chuckled, “Dream’s a pretty weird dude, but, I gotta say, Phil, I gotta say, fakin’ amnesia? Yeah, that’d be a whole new level of weird.”

Phil moved to stand besides Techno. From here, he could see both Dream and Ranboo out in the snow, though whatever they were talking about was lost to him. The one thing he could tell was that Ranboo did not want to be there. “True. It’d be stupid to try to pull that around others, but here? What could he hope to gain from that?” He huffed out a puff of air. “It’s not like he needs sympathy points with that favor you owe him.”

“Like I said, would be pretty weird.”

It could just be for the sake of consistency if he was planning on using this tactic for… something. Not that his or Techno’s word would mean anything to the rest. Dream himself had also acknowledged that he doubted anyone else would believe him, regardless of anything. But if he’d actually lost a few years’ worth of memory, how was he even aware to what extent he was disliked?

Being in a prison was probably a decent indicator, but still.

There was one other thing that made Phil ponder. “He does act differently, too. Did you notice?”

Techno scratched at his cheek. “Uh huh. Yup. Definitely.”

Phil looked away from the window to narrow his eyes at him. “Techno. Did you notice or not?”

He threw back his head, lightly groaning. “I dunno, man, I don’t keep track of the guy’s personality. I mean, he seemed fine yesterday?”

“Yesterday.”

“Not gonna lie, Phil, I was expectin’ a bit more aggression when you two showed up,” he chuckled. “He’s annoyin’ like that.”

“Mhm, yeah,” Phil mumbled, turning back to the window. The two were still going at it, surprisingly enough. “The memory thing could explain that. People’s personalities tend to depend a lot on what you remember.”

The embodiment of that was floating around somewhere outside. Phil tried not to think about it too much.

“True, true.”

On the surface, it made sense. Trauma-induced amnesia wasn’t something unheard of, and memory loss, in general, seemed to be a bit of a plague around these lands. Phil had to admit, the only reason he was hesitant to immediately accept it was, well, because it was Dream. Nothing the guy did was straightforward, and taking his word for anything was a sure way to get mixed up in something that could later come back to bite you.

And because it was Dream, anything that he’d otherwise brush off if it were anyone else, anything that didn’t quite add up, lodged firmly into his already festering doubts.

“Techno.”

“Yeah?”

“How did he remember where you live?”

He got a side-glance at that. “Y’know, Phil, that’s a fair point. I’m gonna be honest, I’m no expert on amnesia, but I’m not entirely sure it’s supposed to be this selective. Or, I mean, maybe it’s just that important to him.” Techno quirked up an amused smile. “Imagine, amnesia wants to wipe your memory but you just say ‘no’. Imagine.”

“Gods, this is so fucking weird,” Phil sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “On the one hand, it checks out, on the other, shit doesn’t add up.” He narrowed his eyes at Dream’s figure outside. “Bastard’s definitely not telling us something.”

Techno barked out a laugh. “Yup, that’s Dream for you. Pretty sure the guy’s allergic to honesty.”

And maybe that wasn’t a problem, maybe he’d leave them be before it turned into one, but that was the issue: how long would it be before it did?

“People are gonna eventually come here looking for him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” he dragged. “Don’t wanna brag, y’know, but I’m a bit of an expert at hidin’ people, so. Not like they’re gonna attack unprovoked. That’d be crazy.”

“Uh huh, yeah, definitely crazy,” he said, dry. “Just be careful, alright? If you need help with anything, let me know.”

“Will do, but I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Disregarding everything, if Dream wanted to stay over purely because of his memory loss, then the quickest way of getting rid of him was to fix the issue. Regeneration potions seemed like the most obvious starting point, and Phil was already counting in his head what materials he was missing. Sure, Dream said he’d get them himself, but like hell was Phil going to trust that, not with how insistent he was about it.

Another headache was just what he needed right now.

~~~

“Ranboo, wait, hold on!” Dream called out as he sprinted down the cabin’s icy stairs. Ranboo had already fled far enough so Dream had to run after him to catch up.

He silently cursed. He knew Ranboo didn’t always like him (how that was supposed to work was still lost on him), but he hadn’t expected the guy to get this freaked out. Uncomfortable at worst, but not… whatever this panic was. Dream would really need to drill him whenever he was back in his other state because this was just ridiculous.

And now this could end up with him getting found almost immediately, courtesy of the guy that helped him escape in the first place.

Honestly, what the fuck was Dream getting into with him?

Ranboo sharply turned around to face him, still trudging back through the snow. Even from afar, the distress all over his features was obvious.

“Leave me alone, Dream!”

Dream lifted his palms up in what he hoped was a placating manner. “I just wanna talk, alright? Just— give me a minute.”

“No, I don’t— I don’t want to talk, I’m done with that, understand?” he bit back. “I’m done with that, so I’m warning you, stay away from me.”

And in any other situation, he would, because dealing with people who clearly hated him was more trouble than it was worth. Sure, sometimes it was amusing, but often it only left him drained and nerves frazzled. Not to mention it definitely wasn’t his strong suit.

He licked his dry lips. “Yeah, well, that’s gonna be hard, since you don’t seem to wanna stay away from me.”

Ranboo faltered in his step, expression twisting. “I don’t want anything to do with you, I’m not— What’s that even supposed to mean?”

If Dream remembered right, Ranboo had warned him to wait until he sought Dream out and otherwise not involve himself with him. ‘It’ll be a bother,’ he’d said. But since Ranboo was partly at fault for this situation, Dream didn’t feel like listening to him that much.

“Don’t you wanna know how I escaped?” he said, taking a small step closer. “I couldn’t have done it alone, y’know.”

Besides, wouldn’t it be more of a bother if he had to dance around the guy all the time?

A deafening silence settled between them. Ranboo curled his hands into tight fists, his frame so taunt it almost looked painful. A small breeze gusted through the clearing and he shivered, though if the tremble was only from the cold, Dream couldn’t be sure.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Dream, and you know what? I don’t know what— what your problem is with me, but I’m not letting you get into my head again,” he snapped. His voice turned bitter, “I have enough to deal with without you just coming here and— and—” He waved his arms around in a vague gesture. “And making it all worse. What do you even get out of this?”

Dream was silent, his thoughts racing. It was a bit like getting pulled out of the streets to take a test on the economy of Taswell, and he had only a vague notion where that even was on the map. Where was he supposed to go with this? Ranboo thought Dream was trying to ‘get into his head’, okay, sure, why? What was their history here? Why couldn't Ranboo have told him something actually useful about what his deal was? ‘Just avoid me’ were shit instructions when the guy lived next door to where Dream had decided to take refuge. The only thing Dream had to go off on was that he apparently had some sort of extreme memory issues. As if the situation couldn’t get any more inconvenient.

Well. Dream hadn’t ever worked with so little, but there was a first for everything.

“You don’t remember much, right?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence.

Ranboo exhaled a shaky puff of white air. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Listen, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I want to help you with that.”

Perplexed, Ranboo stared at him. Slowly, a frown twisted his face. “Why?”

That was a great question. In truth, Dream had improvised, because what else was he supposed to say? But, thinking about it, he could actually benefit from it. Already, he could tell this state of Ranboo was more truthful than the other one, and, frankly, Dream couldn’t bring himself to trust the guy, not with how cryptic he always was. If they were going to work together, he’d at least want to know what his motives actually were. Something told him he wasn’t going to get it out of that easily.

So, next best thing?

“Honestly, it’s a bit annoying,” Dream said with a sigh. “Can you imagine how hard it is to work with someone who constantly forgets about it?”

That wasn’t even a lie. He would imagine it would be.

Ranboo bristled, “If you think that if I get my memories back I’ll suddenly be on your side, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah, alright, but you’ll at least know why you’re on my side,” he huffed. And tell me in the process, too. “I mean, that’s gotta be driving you insane, right?”

“No, Dream, no, you don’t get it, I would never willingly work with you, so even if I did help you with anything, you probably just— made me do all that somehow. Threats or blackmail, I don’t know, but I’m not on your side.”

Dream thought back to the Ranboo he’d grown familiar with. Yeah, threats would definitely work on him, yup.

This situation was so weird it was almost funny.

“Sure, but that’s the thing, you don’t know,” Dream stressed. “Maybe I’m threatening you, maybe I’m not, but without remembering it you can’t be sure. Wouldn’t you rather know which one is it?”

“Of course I would! But I can’t just— God,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You don’t get it.”

Sure he didn’t, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Dream was more lost than Ranboo, honestly. The least headache-inducing way to go about this would be to convince Ranboo he wasn’t their Dream, but, like with Tommy, he doubted that’d go over well, at least right now. Ranboo would have no reason to believe him because he didn’t trust him, and Dream… wasn’t sure how he was supposed to change that. Getting on people’s good sides wasn’t exactly what he was known for.

“Just think about it, alright?” he said. “You don’t have to decide on anything right now.”

Ranboo was silent. He let his arms drop, eyes wandering along the snow aimlessly. They’d been out for long enough for the chilly air of the tundra to seep into Dream’s bones, making a shiver settle within. Still, he waited, patiently. If Ranboo still decided to go ahead and rat him out, well. It’d throw a wrench into his plans, but when had his plans been wrenchless?

“How do I know you won’t just— do things to me instead?” he asked, sour, glancing up at him.

“What things?”

“I don’t know! Just— things to make it all worse!” He threw his hands in the air. “What if— What if I get stuck and I’m never myself again? How do I know that’s not what you want?”

Dream was getting exhausted by this point. What had his counterpart even done to the guy to warrant this? In all of his recaps, Ranboo had not once mentioned himself, so he’d been under the impression they hadn’t interacted much. Clearly, that couldn’t be the case, not with this level of… animosity. Ranboo had some serious explaining to do once he was out of it. Back into it? Gods knew.

“Look,” he sighed. “We can go on like this for hours. How about you just take some time to cool down, consider it, y’know, the pros and cons, and decide whether you’d wanna risk it. Because I really don’t know what else to say. You’re clearly not gonna believe me if I just say ‘hey, I actually have no idea how I’d even— do things to you, trust me on that’,” he huffed. “So yeah, it’d be a risk! But do you really have any other options?”

Dream had zero idea if he did. All of this was banking on the chance that he didn’t, or, well, not any good ones, at least.

Not that going along with Dream would be a good option, either. Honestly, he’d have no idea where to even start.

But Ranboo didn’t need to know that.

Dream would figure it out… somehow.

…He really should start thinking things through.

Ranboo was scowling at the ground. Whatever war was going on inside his head was tearing him up from the looks of it. Eventually, though, he slowly shook his head and looked up at Dream, taking a step back.

“I don’t want to figure any of this out if it means you get to stay free,” he declared, hushed. “I— I can’t… be okay with that.”

“Ranboo, I can just leave!” Dream stressed. “C’mon, you’re a smart guy. You should see you’d only lose if you went to tell on me. Think about it, I’m not going back to prison whether you snitch or not, but if you don’t, you might actually get something useful from me. Don’t be an idiot.”

Ranboo really, really didn’t like it, that much was almost comically obvious from his expression. But he had to see Dream was right—the only difference Ranboo telling Sam where Dream was would make was in chasing Dream away. Which, well. Dream wouldn’t be surprised if Ranboo was seriously considering that option. But if he was this conflicted about it, it had to mean Dream’s persuasion was getting to him. The key here was making it look like Ranboo would be the only one losing or winning anything here—sure, Dream could leave if he wanted to, but he had no idea where else he could go. Ranboo, irritably, hadn’t told him any of the locations of his counterpart’s bases yet. 

And, yeah, maybe Dream could go back to the way he was always living, on the road without a home, but, right now, he was so without a home that it made his skin crawl. If he were to leave now, without any answers or a way to get back, he’d never be able to rest easy again. Nothing about this was right, and Dream couldn’t pretend, even for a second, that it was.

“...Fine,” Ranboo muttered, catching Dream’s attention. He looked like he’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “As long as you— As long as no one gets hurt and you don’t… do whatever it is that you do, fine. Just— stay away from everyone else, and I won’t tell.”

“More than happy to, trust me,” Dream said with a chuckle. He let his shoulders relax in relief. “I’ve had enough of those people to last me a lifetime.”

The look he got in response to that was weird, but Ranboo didn’t comment. Instead, he rubbed at his eyes, muttering to himself. Dream couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t still go ahead and tell on him, but, at least for now, it should be safe. All he had to do was ensure it stayed that way.

Discreetly, he glanced over to the cabin, where through one of the windows he could see Techno and Phil observing them, chatting among themselves.

“Also,” he spoke up. “For your own sake, keep this between us. I wouldn’t wanna get questioned about things you wouldn’t want people to know.”

Ranboo looked at him through his fingers. Quickly, though, his gaze flickered away. “Yeah, I know,” he said, the bitterness not lost on Dream.

Dream really, really needed to speak properly with him already.

Chapter Text

At Scott’s demand, they travelled quicker than usual, and Dream couldn’t help but wonder if that was safe. Scott cast him a cheeky smile. “As long as you’re with me, no one can follow us.”

No matter how much Dream prodded Scott after that, he refused to budge. Something about Dream being “human”. Which was, honestly, stupid and unfair, but Scott didn’t seem to care.

And he was still nowhere closer to figuring out what Scott himself was.

In the two days that their group trekked through forests and fields, Ranboo had barely said a word, acting as nothing more than a shadow. Dream left him be. If Ranboo didn’t feel like socializing, well, Dream couldn’t fault him for that. He, too, wasn’t too enthusiastic to bring more attention to Ranboo than necessary, even though he doubted Scott would care much either way. Then again, he wasn’t familiar with the guy enough to tell. Better safe than sorry.

Though when they’d find a place to rest or spend the night, be it a cave or a shack or the like, Scott would settle on one side and Ranboo would take the farthest corner, leaving Dream in the middle as if on some kindergarten playground. It was borderline ridiculous, really.

He’d entertained the idea of staying by himself, too, committing to the childish idea of sides. Not like he was unused to it.

In the end, though, he’d always find himself by Ranboo. Chatting up Scott could prove useful in gathering more information and feeling out what he was about to throw himself into. However, with how delicate his and Ranboo’s relationship was still, he couldn’t risk letting him doubt Dream’s priorities. And though Ranboo was difficult to read at times, Dream took the way the taunt lines in his shoulders would lighten some whenever Dream sat beside him as a good sign.

Scott didn’t seem bothered by the favoritism; if anything, he observed the two with thinly veiled curiosity once Dream turned his focus from him to Ranboo. He never pried, and Dream could appreciate that. Ranboo was less appreciative, though, if his palpable discomfort at Scott’s silent attention was anything to go by. Even when Scott would turn to his own devices, it would do little to ease the anxiety that made his whole body tense. Frankly, it was somewhat surprising that he was still sticking around despite the obvious distaste at the situation. Dream couldn’t help but pride himself a bit on that. Whatever he was doing, at least it was in the right direction.

…He should keep going at it.

At one point during their first night at a small cabin, when it had seemed like Ranboo was about to pick through his gloves with how much he was scratching at them, after a beat of pondering, Dream took out his journal. There wasn’t much that he could do about the company, but, at the very least, he could distract Ranboo from it. Dream needed Ranboo to relax when around him, to make him associate Dream with safety and comfort. Keeping him engaged in a time of distress could be a more subtle way to go about it. And ‘subtle’ was what this needed.

“You still want to learn about enchanting?” he asked, keeping his voice low to not disturb whatever… trance Scott was in, some ways away from them, already resting for the night.

Ranboo perked up at that, twisting a bit to face Dream with a nod. Gently, almost absentmindedly, he reached up to touch behind his ear. “Yeah, I think— I’d like that.”

Dream paused for a second, following Ranboo’s movements. “Alright. I’ll warn you, it can get difficult, but the basics are, y’know, the basics, so we can go over that.”

Enchanting wasn’t unlike learning a different language, if the language wasn’t like any other in the world and you had to think outside of the symbols’ meanings. But, again, that usually showed more when the difficulty of the enchantment rose, and there was no need for that yet. Most people were fine with knowing only the basic types, such as enhancing durability, adding sharpness, and the like. Ranboo absorbed all that easily enough. Dream couldn’t say he was surprised; Ranboo had always been on the sharper end of the spectrum, by quite a bit, so him picking up something intellectually challenging without much trouble wasn’t unexpected.

Still, Dream couldn’t help but grin a bit at it. It was rare when he’d get the chance to teach something, and he’d forgotten how enjoyable it was, especially when, clearly, he wasn’t too bad at it.

These small sessions did bring Dream’s attention back to the mystery of Ranboo’s enchantment, though. Deciphering aside, it was… weird, that Ranboo hadn’t been aware of what the brand was. Enchanting people without them realizing it seemed unlikely, but, hey, he’d never tried before. And if it was as old as it looked, Ranboo might have just been too young to realize what it meant. On an observational level, the feat was impressive—not everyone that dabbled in enchantment had the skills to successfully do so on a living person. Well, Dream assumed successfully, given Ranboo’s frenzied reaction. If there hadn’t been any effect, he probably wouldn’t have freaked out as much. 

But, of course, Dream couldn’t just ask about it. That would be a sure way to make Ranboo shut off entirely. No, if Dream wanted to get something out of him, it’d have to be on Ranboo’s terms, even though having only a vague idea of what the effects of the enchantment were would be a huge help in deciphering it.

Again, Dream was no expert in enchanting people, but certain things still transferred over. Specific strokes here and there, the somewhat familiar placing; it pointed towards suppression of sorts. Probably. It was difficult to tell, really, but it was the best Dream could get out of it currently. Which, well, already wasn’t looking good.

Not that he had any illusions about the likely intent.

He didn’t bring it up, though. For one, they weren’t alone, and two, there was no need to freak Ranboo out any more than he already was. Not until he knew for certain, at least, and even then it would… depend on what he’d uncover.

Regardless, Dream didn’t have much time to dwell on it. By the end of their second day of travelling and dealing with rocking hills for the better part of it, Scott led them to a small settlement snuggled in one of the valleys. Weirdly enough, the exterior of the town with its stone walls, the grays and the greens blended in with the surroundings, giving it a sort of natural camouflage. If you squinted, it could almost pass as the rocky landscape around it.

An interesting design choice.

Before they crossed its borders, however, Scott slowed to a stop and turned around to face them, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m afraid this is as far as all of us can go,” he said. “Only me and Dream can go through the participants’ entrance, so you’ll—” He gestured at Ranboo. “—have to use the main one if you want to watch.”

Dream exchanged glances with Ranboo. “Right, uh, could you give us a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of them stepped away from Scott, who, in the meantime, chatted up a patrolling guard. Huh, oddly considerate.

Ranboo was wringing his hands together, on edge, as he spoke up in a hushed tone, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Dream sighed, “Yes, I’m sure. I really don’t care that much about this whole— tournament thing, but I really need to talk to Technoblade, and I don’t know when I’ll get another chance, so. Just— trust me on this, alright?”

Ranboo was silent at that.

“You don’t have to, y’know, be in the audience if you don’t want to,” Dream continued, ignoring the silence. “You can just lay low somewhere until it’s over.”

Slowly, Ranboo shook his head. “No, I’ll— I’ll be there. I don’t think anyone’s going to care.”

“Exactly, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he muttered.

Well, that wasn’t a sentence he heard every day.

It wasn’t the first time Ranboo had expressed a similar notion, and while Dream wasn’t exactly surprised, twinges of discomfort still twisted inside.

Ranboo was the kind of person who’d rather run than fight, and not out of cowardice. He wasn’t the kind to take from others without giving back, and he wasn’t the type to let others take the fall for him. Dream hadn’t spent long with him still, but he could gather as much already. And, in many ways, those traits weren’t unfamiliar to Dream. At some point, they might have been just as true. At some point, he might have expressed worry and care and interest without a second thought, and, at some point, others would have responded in kind.

If Dream was any more rueful, he would have thought Ranboo was lucky that point hadn’t yet passed for him. As it stood, though, Dream only thought he was painfully naive.

The want to both chastise Ranboo and encourage him rendered him silent.

In the end, all he said was, “...I’ll be fine.”

Ranboo stared at him for a second more before he glanced over to where Scott was chattering with the guards and moved so his back would be facing Scott’s direction. Carefully, he reached into one of his smallest pouches and plucked something out, his movements oddly stiff.

“I think you should have this,” he said, and then got quieter. “Just— don’t judge me, okay?”

Curious, Dream let Ranboo drop it into his palm. It was the size of a glass marble, a deep turquoise swirling inside, and Dream huffed in amusement. Although before he’d never lacked them, ender pearls ran for stupidly high in this place, and while Dream had never had an issue with money, here he was, to put it simply, broke. There was always the option to get them from the source, but with his unenchanted steel weapons, he wasn’t a fan of his chances. Not yet, anyway.

Only Ranboo could find an issue with having such a valuable item.

“Why would I judge you for having resources?” he said, twirling the little pearl between his fingers. It had the sheen of glass around it, meant to protect it against accidental use. Not raw, then. Dream didn’t expect it to be. “I’ve been meaning to get some of these myself, so thanks.”

Ranboo nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, no problem.”

After a second of thought, Dream placed the pearl into his jacket’s inner pocket. Best to have these things close and out of sight in case they weren’t allowed. Before he could say anything else, though, Scott called out, “We should hurry up, Dream! The sign-ins are gonna close soon!”

“Yeah, okay,” Dream responded before turning back to Ranboo. "Let's meet up here when this is over, alright?"

"Okay." Ranboo fiddled with his hands before dropping them. "Um…"

“Yeah?"

Ranboo stared in silence for a bit, shoulders taunt before he dropped them. "Nothing, just— good luck. I'll… be cheering you on, I guess," he chuckled, somewhat awkward. "Not— Not 'I guess', uh— you know what I mean."

Dream laughed, oddly endeared, "Thanks, Ranboo. I appreciate it."

For once, it didn't feel like a lie.

Apparently, Scott had organized a guard to escort Ranboo to said main entrance so that there 'wouldn't be any issues'. When Dream stared at him in surprised silence, Scott sent him a half-smile with a shrug.

"Gotta protect our own, right?” he dismissed it with a wave.

What exactly he was referencing, Dream wasn’t sure.

Once they parted ways, Scott took Dream farther along the town’s stone walls until they reached a small rundown hut outside the settlement’s borders, its roof partially fallen in, windows smashed in and moss creeping up the wooden planks. It gave the impression that it’d been built here before the town had been and, for some reason, had been excluded. Luckily, Dream’s mask concealed his confusion as Scott strode towards it and pushed aside the barely hanging door to get in. There, Dream followed Scott through the barren interior, the place clearly ransacked ages ago, until they stopped by an unassuming trapdoor nestled at the very back. Scott pulled it open, revealing a descending staircase before he turned to Dream.

“I hope you haven’t lost your badge again,” he said, dry.

“Uh.” Dream swung his bag over his shoulder and started rummaging through it. Vaguely, he could remember seeing something of the like when he’d first inspected his “new items” and, hopefully, he hadn’t thrown it out. But if he was wrong and he didn’t show Scott the right thing, well.

Back to plan A?

His fingers grazed something flat and circular buried underneath various other stuff. Dream pulled it out, mentally praying it was what Scott was looking for, as there was nothing else similar to a badge inside. Maybe he should have said he’d lost it again. The way Scott phrased it, though, made it sound he’d just kick Dream out if he had, so it’d be a lose-lose situation, anyway. Regardless, the item was out—a palm-sized bronze coin with intricate engravings on top, not alluding to anything in particular but enticing nonetheless. Seeing it, Scott nodded, satisfied, and Dream released a silent breath.

“Good, ‘cause I would have just left you here otherwise,” he said with a huff and started his descent.

“Yeah, that… wouldn’t be good,” Dream mumbled, pocketing his ‘badge’ again, and followed Scott into the dark basement.

In the low light, it was borderline impossible to make out anything as they went down besides muddy walls and strewn about broken furniture, nothing that would indicate any sort of further passage. For a brief second, Dream entertained the idea that this whole thing might have just been a ploy to kidnap and murder him, before he took another step and the room shifted as if through a kaleidoscope, making him experience vertigo. He stumbled back, barely managing to catch himself, and tried to orient himself in the sudden space, the array of lights and sounds, once more grateful for his mask that covered his incredulity.

Between breaths, Dream had found himself on a wide mahogany staircase, leading down to a dazzling circular hall buzzing with people. Colorful lanterns lined the walls and hung from the natural stone ceiling, enveloping the place in a mix of reds, oranges and yellows, reflecting off the shiny wood. Below, people in blue and purple robes scurried about, shouting commands and tending to a few rugged-looking characters here and there before they disappeared behind a large set of doors at the very back.

It was a far cry from the dump they’d been in moments prior. The air was tingling with magic, something akin to sulfur settling on his tongue. While Dream was familiar with illusionary magic, it was more so on a theoretical level and not something he’d ever looked into deeper beyond the basics, so this was, to put it mildly, really impressive.

“Alright, here’s where my special treatment ends,” Scott said as he continued descending the stairs and Dream hurried to catch up. “I’m sure you can take it from here,” he remarked, casting a sly smile over his shoulder. “Oh, just one thing—after last time’s disaster, we finally got some Ender chests—” He gestured towards a row of them lined along the back wall as they reached the base. ”—so make sure you put away all your stuff there before going any further, got it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He’d figured as much.

“I look forward to seeing you in the arena, then,” he said, grinning, before he whisked away to the side, leaving Dream to fend for himself.

Right, well. How hard could this be?

In the end, it all boiled down to observation; just copying what others were doing. Without drawing too many odd looks, he managed to sign in, got a set of green colored leather armor (had to be a good sign, right? sure), and was directed towards the Ender chests with a strict warning to not take anything besides what was given with him. And, for the most part, Dream intended on listening. His weapons, potions, and other equipment? Sure. Keeping just one pearl wouldn’t harm anyone, though. Just as a precaution. And if it would make Ranboo feel better about it, too, well. A little bit of rule-bending would be fine.

Kneeling in front of one of the unoccupied Ender chests, tracing along its shimmering edge, did strike a chord in Dream, though. This was the first time he’d seen one since coming to this place, and, he had to admit, he’d missed it. He’d missed having his weapons near, his books and treasures, everything to make sure he never lacked in any resources, to make sure he’d never be outplayed. The chest before him, though, was only a hollow reminder of that. It was a question whether the Dream of this place had ever before even used an Ender chest, much less piled stuff inside. He didn’t seem like the type.

Why the thought sparked annoyance, he couldn’t tell. Maybe because Dream had worked so, so hard to earn everything that he had, all the blood he spilt, all the fevers he’d had to fight down, all the persevering he’d had to endure to get where he was. Or, had been. In a matter of moments, it’d all been stripped away, leaving Dream with nothing but a cracked mask across his face and blunted blades by his hip. A joke of what he’d once had.

If he’d had to take on the life of his counterpart, why did it have to be the one that had achieved nothing?

Simmering in his irritation, Dream opened the lid, revealing the swirling void inside. He unclasped his weapons and started putting them inside, distracted, until an odd detail jumped out at him—they weren’t going in as far as they should. If this were an empty chest, that is.

Curious, Dream set the rest of his items aside and reached inside. Maybe he’d misjudged his counterpart and he really did have something stored here. That thought, however, was thrown out the moment he grazed against a certain hilt, glazed wood twirling around the handle, attached to an impossibly thin blade, and Dream’s heart jumped to his throat.

He’d recognize that grip anywhere.

But that couldn’t be possible, right? There was no way. This wasn’t Dream’s world, this wasn’t his body, and this wasn’t his Ender chest, so why—

Casting a discreet glance around, his ears pounding, Dream let go of the sword and continued scouring around. He latched onto a bag, its texture more familiar than it should be, and, slowly, he pulled it out. Inside, there were several golden apples, the shine from their ancient enchantment making Dream release an unstable breath.

This was his.

He’d nearly died getting every single one of these apples.

And they were here.

This Ender chest… was his.

Quickly, Dream closed the bag and placed it back inside before anyone could notice. He gripped the edges of the chest, inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. A spout of laughter bubbled up. Whether it was from disbelief, shock or relief, he didn’t know—probably all at once. But he was giggling to himself, unable to keep a grin from his face, and he let his shoulders slump down.

The relief. Oh my god, the relief.

Just then, it hit him how terrified he’d been. That none of what he remembered was real. That he’d conjured up a whole other life and was clinging to it like a madman. That there was no proof of foul play, and therefore, no proof that Dream wasn’t just… losing his mind.

He’d been so, so terrified, that he’d refused to even entertain the idea.

But now it all crashed down and Dream was riding the high.

He’d been right. He wasn’t going insane. He didn’t belong here, he had a whole other life, and this Ender chest before him was undeniable proof.

Dream wasn’t going insane.

And now, he actually had access to his treasury.

Holy shit.

Head still spinning, he reached back inside to finish his scouting, to make sure everything was still in its place. At first look, it appeared to be; all his weapons, his books, his jewels, his scrolls—everything of value. It was when he delved into the smaller, less important items that something felt out of place. Either Dream had somehow managed to misplace his old dagger, or he couldn’t find it. Misplacing it seemed unlikely as he hadn’t used it for a while, and, last time he’d checked, it was still there. But why couldn’t he find it now? Not only that, a couple of his journals were missing, too, something he never took out of his chest.

That… was a bit concerning.

Dream sat back down, frowning. He knew himself better than to lose things like that. While it was entirely unexpected he would still have access to his chest, if he did, he should have access to all of it, not… just a good majority. That wouldn’t make any sense. But what other explanation could there be? It wasn’t like anyone else could access it besides him.

…Unless.

Unless.

With Ender chests, it was all about who it recognized as its owner. If two of the same got mixed up, how would that affect who it opened up to?

It might be an entirely wild idea, something that should be out of the realm of possibility, but if by some chance, Dream and the one currently in his body shared the same Ender chest, it would be… an absolute game-changer.

Now, this definitely got Dream’s heart pounding.

That was just a theory, though. He needed to make sure.

Inside the chest, he found one of his journals and a pen. He ripped out an empty page, set it on the hardcover, and scribbled down a message. This all hinged on the other not only using the chest but also finding the note, so Dream made sure to set it at the most easily-accessible place. The fact that he himself wouldn’t be able to check any time soon didn’t escape him but it was a problem for future him. He’d just have to be actively on the lookout.

Another thought struck Dream, one that he wasn’t sure how he felt about—if the other Dream did have access to his Ender chest and had taken his items, that would mean he was in a place where that was possible. So, not the prison. On the one hand, if the two were able to communicate, they’d have more pieces of the puzzle to work with and, hopefully, undo this mess quicker. On the other, maybe it would have been better if he’d stayed locked up. Who knew what he could get up to if he was free. How much he could sabotage. Again, Dream could only hope either Ranboo or Punz figured out what was happening and kept him under control until this was dealt with.

Regardless, the fact that they potentially shared part of the End dimension was huge. And definitely something Dream would need to consider more once he had the time.

On that note, he finished off putting away the rest of his equipment and closed the chest. If nothing more, this already was more of a development than he could have hoped for, so, with his head buzzing with thoughts, Dream approached the large double doors and pushed through them.

A large open area revealed itself, with the same lanterns and mahogany only now furnished in a way to resemble a lounge. People of all kinds mingled, donning armor of all colors of the rainbow, some grouped together, some by their lonesome. The rest of the participants, then. Immediately, Dream was on edge—he’d need to avoid attention as much as he could so as to not find himself in a conversation that could quickly turn into a confrontation. So, he stayed by the walls as he scouted out the place, trying to find the same color he was donning. Soon enough, he spotted his target farther down the room in one of the emptier lounging spots, by a few sofas away from the general commotion, and so, Dream made his way over.

Besides a few odd looks, no one approached him as he crossed the hall until he was close enough to spot who the rest of his supposed teammates were. Besides Techno, he didn’t recognize the other two, though one looked vaguely familiar. He could only hope they weren’t best friends or something. Or worst enemies. That would probably get awkward pretty fast. All he needed was for Techno to be on his side, though. He should be, judging by how Scott spoke of him, but nervous tingles still ran across Dream’s skin. It should be fine, right? Why would, in any universe, he and Technoblade be opposing each other?

It wouldn’t make any sense.

It just wouldn’t.

Dream would never cross him. That he was certain of.

So, with an exhale, Dream approached the group, catching the attention of one of the guys he didn’t know, a fox hybrid of sort, vaguely reminding him of Fundy. Immediately, he straightened in his seat, cutting off whatever he’d been saying, a glimmer in his eyes. At that, Techno glanced over his shoulder and, spotting Dream, he grinned.

“Yo,” he greeted, sending Dream a lazy wave before he looked back at the two. “See, guys, told you he wouldn’ abandon his best friend.”

That earned a laugh from Dream, his nerves easing, as he stopped by the sofas, crossing his arms. “Obviously not. What, did you doubt me?”

“No, no,” the fox guy was quick to respond. “Just— casual wondering! Anything could have happened and we wouldn’t be able to know, so—” He cleared his throat, sending Dream a polite smile. “I’m Seapeekay, by the way. I don’t think we’ve properly met?”

Oh, thank God. “No, I don’t think so. I’m Dream, though I guessing you already knew that.”

“Yup! Hard not to,” he laughed. “With you being a bit of a celebrity around these parts and all that. It’s a real pleasure to be on your team!”

A bit of a celebrity? Alright, maybe he’d judged his counterpart too soon. “Pleasure’s all mine, but I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity,” he said with a chuckle.

“He said ‘a bit’, calm down, Dream,” Techno drawled, his lips quirking up before he turned to Seapeekay. “He’s just lookin’ for an ego boost, ignore him.”

Dream sputtered, indignant, “What? No, I’m not! You— You’re being rude, Techno.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Well, uh,” Seapeekay spoke up with an unsteady smile. “Regardless, both of you are incredible, and I just hope I’ll be able to pull my weight. It’s very exciting, though!”

“Listen, man, with you and Callahan on our team, no one’s gonna have a chance,” Techno declared, the words making Dream freeze. “I mean, have you seen this guy?” He gestured to the last member of their team with his head, who’d Dream hadn’t yet spared any attention yet now was zeroed in. “The eyes of a killer right there.”

Said guy who’d been dead silent thus far nodded and signed, “Yes and I’ll kill them all, too.”

“Fantastic. That’s the kind of energy I wanna see.”

If they continued speaking, Dream was too distracted to follow along. He hadn’t recognized Callahan at all. To be fair, like Dream, he never showed his full face, but his fashion sense had forever been a staple of his character. Always in his whimsical outfits of browns and reds, an earthy feel to them with the way the patterns would resemble roots and vines, something you'd find in a fairytale about nature spirits. Now, however, while the brown palette remained, it was washed out, leather covering him from top to bottom, not letting any skin show besides the lower half of his face. The upper, startlingly, was covered in a thick blue cloth, shielding his eyes from the world. Not something Dream had ever seen him with. He had a large hood pulled over his head, further casting his face in shadows, and Dream… wasn't sure what to make of all this.

Anyone that he knew could be anyone in this world, and yet it still continued taking him by surprise.

"Do you want to sit down?" Seapeekay's voice brought Dream out of his thoughts. "There's still some time before the start."

"I get the feelin' he just likes to be tall."

Dream glared at Techno half-heartedly and took an empty seat beside him, muttering, "You… are so annoying."

Techno only snickered, taking a sip from his half-empty water glass. Despite the jabs, Dream couldn't help but let himself relax. Techno was… being Techno. He wasn't glaring at Dream, he wasn't questioning who he was, wasn't doing anything Dream worried he would. It was familiar, the tone and the teasing and the exasperation, and if his counterpart managed to be on such terms with Techno, well. Credit where credit's due.

Even if the familiarity left a bittersweet taste on his tongue.

For a multitude of reasons.

While this was Technoblade, there was no doubt about it, Dream's eyes were still drawn to all the ways it wasn't. Like the way his hair was chopped short, no longer flowing freely or in all sorts of braids, the way he was donning fabric more leagues more expensive than it was appropriate for this sort of place, the white silks and red velvet a bizarre clash with the simple green leather armor. Gold adorned him from head to toe, starting with earrings, necklaces and rings, and ending with golden clasps and gilded heels. He made no effort to hide his identity, and, if anything, he flaunted it, to both attract and deter. Besides the differences in appearance, there was also an odd sort of energy about him, one that crackled in the edges of his sharp grin, in the hungry looks he’d occasionally throw at the other participants, and in the red tint of his usually brown eyes, one that bled whenever light hit it right.

In truth, none of this was unfamiliar. Not entirely, at least. There’d been plenty of times when the Technoblade that Dream knew would also flash his power, would stalk potential enemies with glances alone, would buzz with the anticipation of violence. Blood and Technoblade more often than not went hand in hand, and where one showed, the other would soon follow. Dream himself had been witness to that one too many times to count.

Over the recent years, even months, however, that energy had… dulled.

Dream had never looked much into it; never had a reason. Wasn’t his business. If he wanted to redraw to himself and limit his world to a fenced-off piece of land in the middle of freezing nowhere, well, that was his choice, and Dream had other matters to deal with to be bothered to ask. At the end of the day, he knew he could still depend on Techno if push came to shove, and he was satisfied with that. Wherever Techno had decided to turn his life, that was up to him, and all Dream did was occasionally duly wonder.

Still, a strange sense of nostalgia weaved its way in as Dream looked at this Techno, buzzing with blood-tinted energy, something that’d become so rare to see. As if he were back in the past when everything had been so much simpler, and, for a moment, he could almost pretend this was how things should have always been.

Carefree. Excited. Lively.

Seapeekay laughed, glasses clinked against each other, and the lone pearl weighed heavy, hidden in his jacket.

The moment passed and Dream exhaled a slow, silent breath.

He wasn’t here to have fun or get distracted. He shouldn’t have to remind himself of that.

Dream waited until the conversation between the rest of the group got to a natural pause, during which he leaned towards Techno.

“Can I talk to you for a sec? In private, if you don’t mind.”

Techno shrugged, placing his empty glass on the table in front of them. “Alright, but if you ask for money again, I’m cashin’ in your bounty myself.” He paused, in thought. “Actually… Not a bad idea. That might be around what you owe me, anyway.”

That was a horrifying sequence of words. “Uh— Yeah, no, we can talk about that, too, but no, this isn’t— I don’t need any money.”

“If you say so,” he drawled, standing up.

As they left, Dream a step behind, for a second, he’d got the sense Callahan was looking at him, but, glancing back, he was already engaged in a new conversation with Seapeekay.

How Ranboo could deal with always knowing, he couldn’t imagine.

Dream followed Techno to one of the bar sections where, as he quickly learnt, they only served water and various types of juices. Techno got himself another glass as the two took up stools at the farthest end. There were a couple of people at the tables, chatting among themselves in hushed voices, but they seemed too engaged with one another to pay the pair any attention.

“So,” Techo started, taking a sip from his glass. “What’s on your mind?”

Dream contemplated the question for a bit. “How much do I actually owe you again?”

It wouldn’t be a good look to go ask for favors while in debt. What did his counterpart even need the money for?

“Well, probably not as much as your bounty, but if we’re countin’ interest…”

Dream huffed, “Interest ? What, are you a bank?”

Techno gave him a blank stare. “Dream, you’re the one that insists on usin’ me as one.”

“I— Okay, no, wait, I don’t— Obviously, I don’t have that much,” Dream said, incredulous. He couldn’t tell if Techno was being serious or not. If he remembered right, he likely did have that much in his Ender chest, but he had no intentions of spending that money any time soon. “I mean— C’mon, that’s a bit— that’s a bit unreasonable.”

Techno snickered, “Jeez, man, calm down, I’m not gonna beat it out of you. I was mostly kiddin’, anyways.” He swirled the water around, humming. “Besides. It’s kinda useful keepin’ you in debt. Kinda funny, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Dream scowled, tapping against the bar with his finger. “That’s gonna make things pretty awkward.”

With a long sigh, Techno leaned back in his seat. “Alright, Dream. What is it this time?”

For a few beats, Dream only observed him, his laid back posture, the way he held his glass as if just to have something to play with, seemingly unbothered by everything around them, and, for the first time, Dream wondered if he could truly trust him.

Fact of the matter was, he didn’t actually know this Technoblade. It was as if this was all one big game to him, and whether he wouldn’t find Dream as just another toy to play with, he couldn’t know. Not really. The most he could tell was that the two of them weren’t on bad terms. That could mean a million different things, though, and Dream wasn’t sure if he wanted to bet on it being a straightforward allyship. Not until he could be certain of where they stood with each other.

Besides, it would be unfair to Ranboo, too, if he didn’t cover all his bases.

He didn’t necessarily have to lie.

“I’m… on a bit of a trail of something,” he started, slow. “Might be nothing, might not, dunno yet. And I’ve, uh, ran into a bit of a problem. Well, not really a problem, but…” He paused. “Long story short, I need to get to the Nether.”

Techno stared at him, quirked a brow, tilted his head to the side and glanced over Dream’s shoulder, gesturing in the direction. “Well, if you head straight north that way for a good couple of dozen of miles, you’ll get to Haggstrom, which, lucky you, has a couple of portals. There ya go, problem solved.”

“Yeah, no, that’s great, but I kinda need…” He rolled his wrist. “Unrestricted access, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah. And you think I have that?”

“Well, do you?” Dream scrunched up his face. “I kinda figured if someone would, it would be you with your, y’know. But if you don’t—”

“No one has ‘unrestricted access’,” Techno cut him off with a nod, making air quotes. “That’d kinda be breakin’ a lotta laws which I, a good, law-abidin’ citizen, would never do, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But, say, hypothetically,” he continued, ignoring Dream’s dry tone. “If someone were to have, say, private access, well, hypothetically, that’d probably be what you’re lookin’ for.”

“Okay, and, hypothetically…?” Dream gestured vaguely at him.

Techno lifted his hands up, shrugging. “Purely hypothetically, perhaps.”

“Well, uh, is it something that… would be open for others, too?”

He sighed, deeply, and leaned in closer, Dream following suit. “Listen,” he said, voice dropping. “I’d love to help you out, really, wouldn’t rather do anythin’ else, but, not gonna lie, Dream, not gonna lie, you caught me at a really bad time,” he chuckled. “This championship is probably gonna be my last public appearance for a while. Well, entertainment-wise, at least.” A grin pulled at his lips before dropping. “I’ve got… some business to take care of.”

Dream had to admit, that caught his interest. The spark of red in his eye was promising danger, and he hadn’t heard about anything big brewing that could involve Technoblade, so, naturally, his need for information nagged at him to pursue this thread. And maybe, if Dream was anywhere else, he would, but as it stood, he had to stay focused on the task at hand.

He’d find out about it sooner or later, anyway.

“Right, I get that, but I would just, y’know, need to get to this, uh, hypothetical place. I’d manage fine on my own from there.”

“Now, see, that’d be great, however, here’s the thing,” he dragged. “I don’t care about who you piss off on this side,” he said, motioning around. ”But if you use my portal and piss off the people on that side, they’re gonna come for both of our heads. And I’ve just landed some sweet deals with those folk, so can’t have you runnin’ around without a leash and wreckin’ it.”

“Yeah, I understand, but I wouldn’t,” Dream insisted. “Trust me, I don’t want anything to do with the piglins, either. I’d stay entirely out of their way.”

“No, Dream, you don’t get it. You just bein’ there without me is gonna piss them off.”

Dream frowned, “What, why?”

Techno stared at him as if he was speaking gibberish. “Because you’re human?.. Dream, I know you’re not always sharp, but c’mon, man.”

“Oh. I see.”

Had that ever been an issue back in his world? Or had he never cared?

“Yeah, so, can’t really help ya out this time.”

Dream tried to keep the rising frustration at bay. Besides this, he had no other lead, no other ideas on how to get over to the underground dimension. Or, well, no other good ideas. He could always try violating some laws in the place of highest security; that surely wouldn’t backfire immediately. With how limited his connections were, he didn’t know anyone else that could potentially have private access, either. Techno had always been his best bet, and he wasn’t willing to let it go that easily.

“How long would you be busy for?” he asked. “Is it, like, a few weeks sort of thing or months or, what?”

“Slow down there, Dream,” he chuckled. “Even if I had the time, I didn’t say I’d take you.” He finished his drink and set it down with a clink. “What would be in it for me?”

“Well, what do you want?”

Techno shrugged, tracing the rim of the glass. “I’m open to suggestions. What’cha got to offer?”

Dream was silent as he glanced to the side. He drummed his fingers against the dark wood, in thought. Now, this was a delicate question. He’d thought about it before, but with how broke he was, there wasn’t much he could impress Techno with. Even now, when he had access to his Ender chest, he was hesitant to put anything forward. For a few reasons. He didn’t know the extent of Techno’s wealth and what resources he had an abundance of. There was a high chance he could both undershoot with his offer and overshoot. As far as Techno was aware, Dream wasn’t rich by any stretch of the word, and Dream would… prefer to keep it that way, at least for now. Both to keep any sort of suspicion off of him and to let Techno keep his high ground. If there was one thing he was sure both his and this Technoblade shared was the love for being on top. And if Dream ensured Techno was comfortable in their stance with each other, it would only work in his favor.

In this world, Dream didn’t hold all the cards, and that was fine.

He would just have to play the game a little differently.

“What’s this business of yours, anyway?” he asked, turning back to Techno.

With a low hum, Techno gave him a long, assessing look, eyes narrowed. Discreetly, he glanced around, before leaning in and said, voice hushed, “Would love to tell you all about it, Dream, really, but we’re kinda in a public place here. Can’t go around spillin’ state secrets and all that.”

“Right,” he murmured. “But do you think it’d be something I could… assist you with?”

Techno chuckled, “Is that what you’re offerin’?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends.” He shrugged. “I have a pretty wide skillset, y’know.”

“So you do.” Once more, he fell silent, opting to dissect Dream with his eyes alone. Even with the mask hiding Dream’s face, it was as if it didn’t matter to him. Dream tried not to fidget. “Perhaps,” he murmured before he cupped a hand by his mouth to shield it from the side. Dream moved in closer. “Meet me by the Ink Spill inn after the event’s over. Not promisin’ anything, but we can talk there.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Dream said, nodding. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, smiling slightly. “Of course, of course.”

The fact that Techno didn’t shoot him down immediately was a good start. Dream could only hope it wasn’t some sort of ‘taking over the world’ scenario; not because he’d be opposed to participating, necessarily, but more so that it would be too time-consuming. He’d rather not get sidetracked for too long.

Chapter Text

Now, Dream was no stranger to a stage. He’d had his share of attention, of having eyes on him, and he’d learnt what power that could hold. What he was unfamiliar with, though, was the audience. Or, to be more exact, the deafening cheers that followed his team’s announcement. 

Fifth in line, the four of them entered the main circular arena where stands stretched up until the high ceiling, and they were filled to the brim. All teams were met with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and from the sound alone it was possible to tell who the favorites were. Theirs, seemingly, was at the top. Not surprising, considering how popular Techno alone was, and though he wasn’t sure about Seapeekay or Callahan, they handled themselves in front of an audience with practices ease, too, smiling and waving. What did surprise Dream was hearing his own name among the cheers as well. It was obvious from Scott and Seapeekay’s comments that his counterpart wasn’t unknown to this sort of crowd, but he hadn’t really… anticipated in what way.

There was excitement. There was glee. There was everything in the sound of his name that never was. Not anymore, at least.

And, as Dream stood at the center of it, the energy of it all had him momentarily frozen.

He… wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

Instead, his attention was drawn to the center of the stage where the announcer was doing an enthusiastic speech after having welcomed all the teams. Funnily enough, this was the time when Dream learnt the official name of the tournament he’d been dragged into—Emcee Championship. What exactly that referenced, he couldn’t tell, nor did he care that much.

What he did care some about, however, was the prize at the end. The winners would split up a hefty sum, something that would no doubt come in handy later on. But, more importantly than the money, was the ranking system. Each participant would be judged on their performance and then ranked from best to worst, and that was all Dream had to hear. Sure, he’d never participated in this tournament before, hell, he hadn’t participated in anything in years, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t determined to take the top regardless. Who would he be if he didn’t?

And all it took to set that determination in stone was to look at the leaderboards of the previous events.

No way was he going to perform any worse than his counterpart, who’d been consistently taking top five for the past few tournaments.

No way in hell.

The first game that was determined was a parkour-based one. Miraculously, the arena changed between blinks, just as the staircase had, but this time Dream wasn’t sure if this was illusion magic or transportation. In either case, the budget for this event had to be insane.

Discreetly, Dream scanned through the rules hung on the wall in the waiting room as they stood by for their turn. He didn’t want to risk any suspicion this early on and, given how many times he had supposedly participated, he should know how all the games work by heart. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any that would take him too much by surprise. Otherwise, that could get pretty awkward.

“Alright, we’re up against Blue first,” Seapeekay said once they got to the preparation area. From across the arenas below them, you could see the opposing team enter their room, too. “Starting out with a top team, huh?”

“Any volunteers?” Techno chuckled, stretching. “Not gonna lie, guys, I’m a bit rusty on my, ah, huntin’ skills.” He glanced over to Dream, much to his dismay. “Dream?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a shrug, trying to sound unbothered. Technically, he shouldn’t have a reason to be, but, truth be told, he wasn’t thrilled at all. Going first as the hunter while not knowing the terrain would be a huge disadvantage to him, one that could cost him the round. A warm-up would have been nice, but. He wasn’t about to object.

“Good luck!”

As Dream head towards the elevator to bring him down, he caught sight of Callahan to the side doing some quick stretches too. He must have noticed Dream’s glance as he turned to him and grinned, signing “Kick their ass.”

Dream laughed, his spirits lifted a small bit, “Of course.”

Callahan gave him a thumbs up before joining the rest of their team on their platform. With a sigh, Dream began his descent.

While he wasn’t exactly worried, he hadn’t practised parkour and difficult terrain navigation for a while as he’d been too focused on combat training. He didn’t know where he stood in terms of that with the other contestants but he was decently certain he was above average. Or, he hoped. Otherwise, this could go pretty badly. 

The countdown started, Dream took a deep breath, and, the second the barrier lowered, he was out in the arena.

Immediately, all the passages and structures and possibilities overwhelmed him and he had to take a moment to gather his bearings. Time was ticking, though, and with it, the beating of his heart rose as he tried to find his way around to where the opposing players were with little success. They weaved through the terrain far easier than Dream, clearly familiar with the layout and even using tactics to better plan out their routes. Dream hadn’t been on this sort of active hunt for a while, and, even though on some level it was exciting, frustration at his inability to adapt quickly enough ate at him. It compelled him to run faster, climb quicker, determined to not have his very first show of the event be a disaster. He refused to fail.

Seeing an opportunity, Dream managed to cut off one of the players, catching up to them in a few swift strides. Once within reach, he struck against their back, attaching the small crystal that immediately paralysed them. No time to revel in his small achievement, he turned around and headed for the next one. Like this, yeah, he could do it.

Before the time ran out, he’d successfully caught the second, though the third one remained always one step ahead. Realistically, Dream hadn’t done badly, but he still scowled at himself as the elevator rose back up to the waiting room. Two out of three wasn’t good enough. So many seconds wasted was embarrassing. It wasn’t a horrible start, but he needed to step it up, fast.

The groans of disappointment from the audience still rang in his ears. Watching. Judging. Expecting.

If Dream was someone else, he’d find unfairness in how he was perceived based on the standards of another. But Dream was himself, and he only swore that by the end, he’d not only live up to them, but surpass them, too.

If he had a bar to reach, he’d just put it higher.

“Sorry, couldn’t— get to the last one,” he muttered through labored breaths as he rejoined his team where they were already resting on the benches. 

“No worries, man, they were a tough team,” Seapeekay said, smiling up at him. “It’s hard to get straight into it, too.”

“I know, but I’m still annoyed.”

“Considered getting good?”

Dream moved to shove at Callahan, who dodged it with a silent snicker. “Shut up, oh my god.”

“That’s kind of insensitive, you know.”

Dream sputtered, “I didn’t mean it like that —”

“No, no, he’s got a point,” Techno said, nodding, far too happy to join in. “Are you makin’ fun of a man’s disability, Dream?”

“You two are— Oh my god,” Dream groaned, throwing his head back. “Whatever, I don’t care.”

Despite the feigned annoyance, the banter managed to chip away some of Dream’s frustration. It was relieving, knowing they wouldn’t scorn him for not being perfect. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try to be, but that was one less thing to worry about. 

Once again, as they waited for their next turn, Dream observed Callahan, going back to his thoughts about what their relationship was supposed to be here. He was acting… friendly around Dream. Whether that was just how he was or there was something more to it, Dream couldn’t tell. Regardless, at least there was one more person from his past that wasn’t trying to kill him here, too. 

He’d been noticing a bit of a pattern.

The rest of the game went relatively well; with each round, he’d get a better feel for the playing field and when he’d hunted again a few times, they weren’t able to slip past him as easily. The rest of his team performed well, too, with both Seapeekay and Callahan doing better than he’d expected. In the end, they came second, which wasn’t a bad start at all.

The crowd had quickly grown enthusiastic once again.

This might just turn out to be kinda fun.

The next game that was decided on was combat-based, and now Dream was more in his element. This time, he looked down at the battle arena from their waiting room with anticipation, amping himself up. Combat was his area, a skill he prided himself on, and with Techno by his side, too, no one would stand a chance.

Speaking of. 

“Alright, gang, what’s the strategy?” Techno asked as he got his crossbow ready. “We don’t wanna rush mid, but they might, so someone’s gotta defend it.”

It was a brutal system, judging team performance based on who spilt more bloodshed. Dream couldn’t say he was opposed, really. 

“I can do that,” Seapeekay said, lifting his hand. “I’d say I’m pretty decent at defence.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go left, corner ‘em before they get too close.”

“I’ll take right, then,” Dream said, glancing over the arena once more. “There’s some water there, but if I make it over quickly enough, it should be fine.”

Callahan stepped next to Dream with his bow and arrows swung over his shoulder. “I’ll cover you. Anyone that gets too close—” He imitated releasing an arrow. “Impromptu ball removal.”

Dream laughed, “Sure, alright.”

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Once their platform had lowered and the barrier was gone, they all sprinted in their respective directions. A small manmade river was in Dream’s way, littered with jagged rocks jutting out, and he began jumping over them. A flash from up ahead caught his eye and he barely managed to avoid a bolt flying his way. Immediately, an arrow from behind him followed and a strangled gasp sounded from some bushes in front. Dream quickly got to the other side of the river and caught up to the guy with an arrow sticking out of his arm trying to scramble away. He delivered a blow with the blunt end of his axe to the back of his head, knocking him out. For a second, he glanced back at Callahan, who gave him a thumbs-up, and continued pushing forward, the reassurance of backup a pleasant tingle somewhere deep within.

They made quick work of the rest of the opposing team and when they were all down, Seapeekay got the white flag from the pole in the middle and exchanged it with their own, signalling the end of the round.

“Woo! Go team!” Techno cheered from the other end of the platform.

Dream grinned, quietly echoing the sentiment.

The next few rounds went by without a hitch, with minor injuries here and there that could be easily mended during break times. Once, Dream found himself pinned to the ground, gritting his teeth with effort as he tried to keep his opponent from lunging a blade into his chest. Admittedly, Dream had just knocked their friend out after slashing him up some, so while the bloodthirsty reaction wasn’t surprising, he really should have watched his back better. Before the dagger broke skin, though, the guy was thrown off by Techno, who wasted no time smashing his head against the floor, lights out immediately. He stood up, panting, and offered a hand to Dream.

“You good?” he asked, panting, as Dream accepted the help and pulled himself to his feet.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, wiping some excess blood on his pants. “Sorry, I should’ve been more careful. He got the jump on me out of— nowhere.”

“No worries, that’s what you’ve got us for,” Techno said, chuckling. “Just don’t die, man, we need you for the finale.”

Dream laughed, “Not planning to, don’t worry.”

“I’d hope not. That’d be pretty concernin’.”

In the next round, Dream got to repay the favor when Techno got rushed right out the gate, and the two fought off the three opponents back to back, covering each other’s blindspots with almost practised ease, until one got plunged into the river, the second suffered a blow strong enough to leave her laying on the floor, and the third got knocked out from a punch between the eyes. Techno shot him a grin and no more words were needed.

Absentmindedly, Dream wondered how Techno would react if he knew Dream wasn’t Dream.

…He decided he didn’t want to find out.

As Dream had predicted, their team ended up dominating this game, coming in first. A sense of accomplishment swirled inside Dream as he watched his ranking on the leaderboard rise, his and Techno’s names beside each other. As it should be.

For the following few games, they continued going strong. Some Dream fumbled with more than others, such as where he’d only understood the rules when the game was over, but besides a few odd glances and lighthearted jabs, it didn’t affect the outcome much. Their team would consistently place high up, much to the audience’s delight, who’d cheer loud enough for the entire continent to hear whenever they did well. It brought on a certain type of rush Dream wasn’t familiar with, but one he didn’t… hate. It was strange, having people encourage his violence, even get ecstatic about it, as if nothing else mattered and all that existed was the here and the now.

The thrill, the excitement, the fun.

At some point, Dream almost started believing them.

It was during one of the later games that things didn’t go entirely to plan. A typical battle royale sort of beat, with a huge arena in the mock of a town. They’d run into a particularly bloodthirsty team, one out for their heads and nothing less, and a brutal fight in the middle of the street broke out. For a while, they held their own well enough, pushing the others back, until Dream took one wrong move, leaving himself open for a split second, which was all his opponent needed. His sword slashed through Dream’s shoulder, making him choke on air, and he only barely managed to deflect the next strike aimed for his chest. With adrenaline keeping him high on alert and shoving the pain down, Dream continued to clash blades with him, now more desperate to bring him down. Luckily for him, before the fight could drag out for too long, Seapeekay rushed to his backup, flanking the guy, and in a two versus one, he went down quickly enough.

It took a few beats of panting for Dream to register through the ringing in his ears that the street had gone quiet for now. Glancing around, three of their four opponents were on the ground, no sight of the last one around. Both Techno and Callahan were going through their belongings, trying to find good loot, so Dream let his stance drop, sheathing his sword in favor of clutching at his wound, hissing. It’d gone down his entire shoulder and into his arm, blood already forming a small puddle beneath. He could deal with the pain, sure, but blood loss wasn’t something even Dream could easily shake off, so he needed to act fast.

“How bad is it?” Seapeekay asked, worrying his lip between sharp teeth, once he got over to Dream.

“It’s— fine, I just need something to—” He panted, trying to catch his breath. “—stop the bleeding. You have anything?”

He shook his head. “No, I hadn’t found anything.” He turned to the rest of their team still rummaging around. “Any of you got any bandages or something? Dream’s injured.”

 Callahan waved as he got to his feet and jogged over to them, Techno not far behind.

“We gotta get off the streets before more come lookin’,” Techno said, ushering them into one of the nearby decorative houses. “We weren’t exactly bein’ discreet over here.”

“Just give me some bandages and go,” Dream heaved, sliding down the white wall once they were inside, still holding onto his bleeding shoulder. “I’ll— catch up.”

Techno huffed as he rummaged through his bag, “Sure you will. No offence, Dream, but you’re horrible at self-preservation.”

“I don’t need you telling me that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Guys, we might get more company,” Seapeekay spoke up from where he was peering out the window, cutting the argument short. “There’s another team heading this way.”

“Oh great, yup, fantastic even,” Techno dragged, finally pulling out some clean cloth from his loot. “Do you think if we stayed very very quiet, they won’t notice the trail of blood leadin’ here?”

“Then go .”

“I know math can be pretty hard, but that’ll leave you one against four. I’m gonna honest, Dream, I’m gonna be honest. Not great odds.”

“Lead them away? ” Callahan asked. “I’ll help bandage him up.”

“Splitting up here would be stupid,” Dream frowned. “I can fix myself up just fine.”

“Nope, you don’t get a say in this,” Techno said, already unsheathing his sword as he looked outside. “We don’t get any points if you play martyr.”

“I’m not gonna martyr myself, what—”

“If we’re gonna go, we need to go now,” Seapeekay cut him off, audible worry in his voice. “Meet us back ‘round mid when you can, alright?”

Callahan nodded, already crouching beside Dream with the bandages he’d gathered. Before Dream could say anything else, both Techno and Seapeekay bolted out the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Great.

This was just annoying. 

“Sorry, didn’t find any healing gel,” Callahan signed before he started dressing the wound, Dream too irked to argue any further about it. Or maybe the blood loss was getting to his already.

“That’s fine,” Dream muttered. While the pain was searing, his whole side on fire, making it hard to think, it wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with or couldn’t deal with. He threw his head against the wall, groaning. “Gods, this is just so— annoying.”

“What?”

Everything. “I just— I should be better than this! I mean, getting this hurt in a one on one? C’mon,” he scoffed. 

Silently, Callahan snickered as he continued to bandage the injury. Dream threw him a scowl. 

“What?”

He paused to answer, grinning. “You’re baby raging. Just get better, loser.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dream scoffed. “I wouldn’t even need both of my arms to beat you.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t even need to fight you to win,” he signed, sticking his tongue out before he went back to the bandages.

Dream only rolled his eyes. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

The Callahan that he knew, or, had known, had always liked to talk shit, honestly. Whether that was still the case, Dream didn’t know. It’d been a while since he’d seen him around. Or, maybe he was. Just whenever Dream wasn’t.

It wasn’t a train of thought he liked to entertain often.

So he didn’t.

As Callahan tended to his wounds, a small spring to his movements as if the ordeal was more amusing to him than anything, Dream absentmindedly wondered maybe it was a good thing Bad, Sapnap and George didn’t want anything to do with him, nothing other than getting their pay.

It helped keep him focused.

When the line between pretence and indulgence blurred, unfortunate things followed.

“You should have gone with them,” he said, breaking the silence. “Seriously, I can handle myself perfectly fine, and you three together would have better chances at getting more points.”

Callahan swayed his head from side to side as he tied off the bandages. He leaned back, signing, “Maybe, but where’s the team spirit in that?”

Dream huffed, “Team spirit?.. This isn’t about that. It was just a stupid move.”

“Tell me you have no friends without telling me you have no friends.”

“You— Oh my god,” Dream groaned. “That’s not even— It’s a game where the point is to win. Not— friendship, or whatever.”

For the first time today, something akin to a frown etched onto Callahan’s lips. He lifted his hands, dropped them, as if undecided about what he wanted to say. Then, slowly, he signed, “If it were Techno that got injured, would you have left him?”

Now that threw Dream for a loop. An immediate answer was on his tongue, one guided by everything it shouldn’t be, one that he’d rather bleed to death than voice. It was impulsive, it was irrational, and it would never leave. It would give away more than had been asked, and it was not something Dream would ever be willing to risk.

And so Dream bit down hard, swallowed the sting, and shrugged.

“Depends what would have been best for winning.”

For a few seconds, silence stretched between them, and though Dream couldn’t see Callahan’s eyes, he could feel them on him. It made discomfort settle at the base of his skull, a grating sort of thing, but before he could do anything to alleviate it, the moment passed as Callahan nodded, signing, “Makes sense. You two are our best fighters. It’d be bad to lose either.”

“Yeah,” Dream said, trying to shake off the lingering strange feeling. “Guess so.”

Callahan stood up and went over to the window, glancing outside. Then, he turned back to Dream. “Looks clear. You good to go or need to rest more?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet, hissing quietly at the burn. Gods, he really needed some potions. “Let’s— Let’s go try to meet up with them.”

At this point in time, the outside was a bloodbath. A lot of teams were already taken out, leaving the most experienced ones going after each other. Dream had no idea how well Techno and Seapeekay were doing, but he had faith they were fine. Techno on his own was a force to be reckoned with, and Seapeekay’s skills were nothing to be scoffed at either. It left the two of them, Dream with his injury and Callahan who preferred to fight from a distance, slinking through the red-stained streets as they tried to stay out of the line of sight of any potential opponents. Sounds of metal clashing and yells carried through the arena from all sides, giving a clear indication of which directions to steer away from. If they were lucky, they’d pick off one another and leave scraps for their team to finish off. Given they still had a team.

Much to Dream’s relief, after stalking around the middle section for a bit, he caught sight of both Techno and Seapeekay hastily making their way towards, bloodied but not overly injured. From then on, that was the strategy—wait around mid for some poor soul to come stumbling in and take them out without giving them a chance to react. Luckily, Dream managed to avoid any more debilitating hits, keeping more of a defensive position. Although he could deal with it for a while, he needed this game to end as soon as possible. It wasn’t the last one and he couldn’t afford to stretch himself out too thin. Disregarding everything else, he refused to slow down their team in any way.

And when they stood at the end, together, panting and aching all over, the audience above cheering, his wounded shoulder seemed like the least important thing.

Reach the bar, set it higher.

During the break time, a medic tended to his injury, practically stitching it back together. They sure didn’t cheap out on any expenses in this event if they could afford such high-grade healing magic. Duly, Dream wondered how much money was getting passed around in the crowd above, too.

Hopefully, Ranboo was keeping himself away from the excitement of it all.

Eventually, the last game before the finale was chosen. The most intriguing one so far, too, in Dream’s opinion. Individual arenas for each team, full of puzzles, mazes, and monsters, all to guard scattered around gold and the rare diamond. The team that gathered most before time ran out would win. Theirs was currently in second place, and all they needed to do was not fall to secure a spot in the finale. Easy enough, right?

What was unique about this game was that the audience wasn’t able to see everything. Only the middle parts were visible to them, which they could travel between to watch how different teams were doing. However, there were many tunnels leading out, shielded from the outside view. All four of them split up in different directions, Dream taking one leading further underground, leaving all the racket behind.

It was a strange feeling, finally being… alone. Well, as alone as one could be with skeletons and zombies stumbling into you at every other turn, that was besides the point. It was familiar. On his own, with nothing to fall back onto besides himself, no prying eyes to follow his every move, either. Dream couldn’t lie, the excitement of the crowd had begun to grow on him, with their cheers and woos, but the element of perception never went away. Always watching him, expecting something, judging everything. Dream knew a thing or two about being a performer, sure, but never for so many.

He hadn’t realized how tired he was until there were no more eyes on him.

At least for now, he could breathe.

Best to savor it while he could.

Room after room, Dream cleared the obstacles and gathered the golden coins in his pouches. He couldn’t know how well the others were doing but he was determined to bring in as much as possible, to ensure they stayed on top. That was easier said than done, though. Already, this event had been going on for hours, and though they’d had plenty of breaks, it was starting to wear on him. He could feel his senses getting number, his reaction time slowing, and while it wasn’t detrimental, it took a toll on his performance. A wrong step here, a missed swing there, and if these weren’t mindless mobs, Dream would be in deep trouble by now.

Not to mention his aching shoulder. Sure, he could use his arm at least, but the pain still pulsated, hissing every time he pulled on the wound. The blood loss from before wasn’t helping, either. In short, it was fortunate no one could see Dream right now. He’d rather his struggles weren’t showcased to thousands.

All that to say, maybe he shouldn’t have tried taking on a whole room full of monstrous spiders in his state. Not as if he’d ever considered that much.

  Dream hacked at their gnarly bodies with his rusted axe without pause, keeping them an inch away from mauling his. He’d gotten halfway across the room towards the shiny pile of gold, most of the creatures dead by then, when a particularly nasty one bit into his ankle, making him stumble over with a pained gasp. The impact from the ground knocked out the air from his lungs, and the spider took the opportunity to jump on top of him and go for his throat. Though still a bit dazed, Dream managed to grab hold of its head before it could sink into him. Grunting with effort, he threw the creature off, but all that did was agitate it further. With a shrilling hiss, it charged at Dream again, intent to not give him the opportunity to get up.

Dream scrambled to get his discarded blade, but the spider’s screeches came to an abrupt end as an arrow pierced through it, pinning it to the wall behind it. He twisted around to find Callahan standing in the room’s doorway, already nocking in a second arrow. Shooting Dream a grin that screamed ‘ you’re welcome ’, he let it fly into another spider scurrying towards him.

Smug bastard.

With a quiet huff, Dream got to his sword and picked himself up. Now with backup, the two of them made quick work of the rest of the room. Once it went quiet, Dream gathered the coins, though, after a moment of consideration, offered Callahan some, too.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep them. I don’t really care about that.”

“Alright,” Dream said with a shrug. “Thanks for the help, by the way. I had it, but, y’know.”

Silently, Callahan giggled. “Sure you did. No problem.”

Dream chose to ignore that. “Did you find any good spots?”

“I did, actually. Didn’t want to go there myself, though.” He imitated a tremble. “Scary.”

“Is it far?”

“Not really. I can show you? ”

“Yeah, let’s check it out,” Dream said, walking over to his side. “We still have some time left, I think.”

Callahan nodded and beckoned for Dream to follow him. Maybe the coins they already had would have been enough to secure that top place, but Dream wanted to make certain. Sure, his bones were screaming at him to rest, but with how close they were to the end, surely he could push a little more.

Besides, if Callahan was with him, he didn’t have as much to worry about.

They went through the dimly lit hallways for a bit, avoiding any more unnecessary encounters, until Callahan took him to a descending spiral staircase in one of the crevices in the wall, a place where you could blink and you’d miss it. There, it opened up to a vast room shimmering in blue light. There were no other corridors leading out of it or mobs wandering about, just a pool of water in the center, covered with a thick layer of glass.

“Oh, that’s… interesting,” Dream said, curious, as he went over to inspect it closer. 

In the middle of it was a lid, currently closed, and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Along the bottom of the enclosure, lit up by underwater torches, there were several drowned floating around.

Dream cursed under his breath. Of course.

“God, I hate drowned,” he muttered. “They’re so annoying.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Dream continued scanning the pool for the reward until his eyes caught a pouch laying at the bottom a bit to the side, open to reveal its contents. Although it was difficult to make out from under the water, the way light glinted off of the jewels was unmistakable.

“I think they’re guarding diamonds,” he said, his heartbeat rising. “Holy shit, that could seal the deal for us.”

So far, Dream hadn’t encountered any in all of his rooms. Whether he’d been getting unlucky or they were just that rare, he didn’t know, but now that he had them in sight, he wasn’t willing to let it go.

“Probably, but it looks really risky,” Callahan signed, frowning. “I don’t wanna go down there.”

“Honestly, me neither,” Dream chuckled, already pulling off his pouches of gold. “But if we’re doing this, gotta go all out.” He discarded his boots and other heavy equipment he didn’t need before turning to Callahan. “Stay here and guard, alright? I’ll try to make this quick.”

Callahan nodded, signing, “Good luck! Don’t drown, that’d be embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t.”

By the lid, Dream took a moment to calm his nerves. The faster his heart went, the quicker he’d run out of air, which could very well spell his end. He didn’t mind water and could hold his breath for a decent amount of time, but all of that was considering he didn’t stress about it.

It’d be fine. He’d be fine.

Slowly, Dream unscrewed the lid and opened it. The water beneath shimmered in the blue light, giving it an icy appearance. The longer he’d linger, the more daunting it’d appear; he just needed to get it over with. Taking a deep breath, Dream readied himself and plunged.

The freezing tendrils dug into his body the second he was under. The drastic change in temperature momentarily paralyzed him and Dream had to shake himself out of it. Although the pool was lit up more or less, with the low brightness and his mask, visibility wasn’t great, making him rely more on vague shapes. He unsheathed his dagger and began swimming toward the bottom. Ideally, he’d be able to get to the loot without having to confront any of the creatures, but when has a situation ever been ‘ideal’ for him? 

As Dream got close enough, the drowned took notice of him. Gurgling and growling, they pushed off the floor in his direction, decaying hands outstretched. Dream weaved through them as much as he could, avoiding their grasp as he neared the pouch in the middle. Before he could make it, though, a hand latched onto his ankle and Dream swirled around to find a drowned snarling, pulling him closer to the rest. Dream lunged the dagger into its turquoise arm, hacking at it until it broke off, but the couple of seconds were enough for a few more creatures to get to him. One seized him around the neck from behind, crushing, while another swung at him in front, intent on ripping through his flesh. Dream grabbed onto the hands around him, trying to peel them off, as he kicked at the other, smashing through its jaw and head. With his blade, he twisted just enough to plunge it into the drowned’s behind him side, ripping it apart until it’d been weakened enough for Dream to break free. He wasted no more time in diving for the satchel, narrowly avoiding another try at him. Already there was discomfort in his lungs, and it wouldn’t be long before it’d become unbearable. He needed to get this done fast.

As Dream snatched the pouch and secured it to his belt, however, white flashed in his eyes as a searing hot pain erupted in his side. He almost gasped, barely managing to keep his mouth shut and water from rushing inside. A frantic glance around revealed a trident lodged into the floor, red swirling around. He hadn’t noticed there was one in this pool when he’d gone in. And now it had torn through him, murking the water with Dream’s blood. Fuck. Fuck.

Right, he needed to get out now.

His heart pounding in his ears and his side on fire, Dream took off from the bottom towards the surface. His drenched clothes and armor dragged him down as if his own body was against him, as if gravity decided right then and there it was its job to ensure Dream didn’t make it out of this. And still, he ripped through the water, pushing up, leaving behind the wet gurgles of the creatures that wanted nothing more than to make him one of their own. The blue light towards the surface acted as his lifeline, as something he needed to reach and he’d be fine. He’d be okay. He would get out, gather his things, make it back to the main arena, get treated, and everything would work out.

As Dream got to the top and navigated his way to where he’d got in, he brushed against glass.

For a beat, he was confused.

And then, his heart dropped.

The lid was closed.

Dream tried pushing against it, hoping it’d just fallen over somehow, but it didn’t budge, sealed shut. He banged against it, desperation rising, as he looked around the surface until he spotted Callahan a bit away just… standing there, staring at him.

Cold began seeping into his bones, and it had nothing to do with the water.

A second later, he approached Dream and crouched down. From below, Dream could make him out clearly enough, with how transparent the water and glass were. Callahan’s expression was perfectly neutral, not giving anything away, and that perhaps was the worst part. Dream hit the lid once more as if it would knock sense into him, as if it would snap him out of whatever he’d gotten into. But Callahan didn’t react, only observed him, unbothered, uncaring.

Then, he opened his mouth and spoke. No clear sound could reach Dream through the thick glass, but he could read his lips just enough.

“You should have minded your own business.”

Callahan couldn’t speak.

Dream’s heart was in his throat.

…Not Callahan, then.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Dream beat against the glass as if by sheer will alone he could break through it and lunge at that bastard, wrap his hands around his neck and choke the air out of him. Amusement tugged at the corner of his lips at Dream’s increasing rage, and Dream wished for nothing more than to beat it off of him until his eyes rolled into his skull, until he could throw him to the drowned and not have to wait around to see if he’d resurface again. That absolute fucking bastard.

But Dream’s fury at him had nothing on the spreading self-hatred.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been such a fucking moron? He knew, he knew these people were nothing more than strangers— no, worse than strangers. He knew they had nothing to do with the people he was familiar with besides sharing a face and a name. He knew, he constantly reminded himself of that, and yet, when it mattered, he fucked it up.

All this impostor had to do was use the name of a friend Dream had once had and that was it. That was all it fucking took for Dream to lose sight of where he was and who surrounded him.

A scream was building up in his hurting lungs. Gods, he wished to let it out.

A low bong echoed through the room, loud enough to reach even Dream. The impostor glanced in its direction and stood up. That must have been the warning for the timer, and the impostor looked back at Dream, gave a small wave that made him see red and jogged over to the staircase, disappearing shortly after.

That son of a bitch was going to regret ever even considering crossing him.

But Dream wouldn’t be able to pay it back if he died here.

Which was becoming more likely with each passing moment.

At that point, his lungs were screaming at him. He didn’t know how long he’d been under, but he couldn’t hold on for much longer. The lid wouldn’t open as is, so Dream took out his dagger and slid it under it as much as possible, trying to wedge it loose. However, after a particularly harsh pull, the rusted blade broke off, leaving Dream silently cursing. It’d be pointless to continue scratching at it here, so he needed to find something else.

Okay, quick, look around, search, think. There had to be another way out. He pushed himself along the surface, trying to feel for any cracks in the glass, but there were none. The blood loss and lack of oxygen were clouding his mind, making it difficult to orientate himself, but Dream continued swimming, determined to find any flaw, anything that would prevent this pool from becoming his grave.

With his strength slipping and vision growing darker, desperation took hold of him. 

He couldn’t die here. He refused to let himself die. It wasn’t the right time, there was still too much to do, so much to say, to explain— they’d never know what happened, why he did what he did, and all of the hatred and violence would have been for nothing, in the end. 

He had to survive. He had to live. 

As Dream reached the edge of the pool, his fingers grazed against its side. Rocky, but not overly. He dug at it and pieces of it fell away. Alright, okay, this was something, this was— How could he make this work? He couldn’t make a wide enough hole to climb out, he was running on seconds, there was no time, he—

He didn’t need a big enough hole.

With shaking hands, Dream pushed himself to where the glass met the wall and he began clawing at the crumbling rock. He just needed a bit, just enough to get his hand through. Darkness swirled all around, making it almost impossible to see what he was doing, but Dream kept going at it, invigorated, until the tips of his fingers reached the surface in between the glass and the floor. Almost— almost there.

Just then, the lack of air became unbearable and he couldn’t stop his mouth from opening and water from rushing into his lungs. Now choking, moments away from losing consciousness, Dream reached into his inner jacket and yanked out the small pearl. He shoved his hand through the hole, barely holding on, and crushed it against the edge of the glass.

The pull upwards tore his body apart and he immediately fell to his knees and hands, choking out the bloodied water. His mask was getting in the way so he twisted it to the side, letting the outside freely wash over his face. Air had never before tasted this sweet and he gulped it down in between his coughing. Unable to keep himself on his shaking limbs, Dream collapsed onto the cool glass. Gods, he was tired. So, so tired. His mind was numb, his body in pain, his energy drained. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get up. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t. Maybe he could rest, just for a little bit. Would it really matter?

The magic from the pearl hadn’t yet dissipated and Dream watched as the purple swirls weaved through the air, dancing like smoke. It made him think of Ranboo and his worry. His naive, life-saving worry. But he’d been on edge from the very start. He’d expressed concern at how convenient it was that Dream was sought out now. Something about a tip. And he thought about how Ranboo had stressed that his hunter didn’t use the usual means that Dream would be familiar with.

‘You should have minded your own business.'

A weak, mirthless laugh bubbled up in his aching chest.

Oh, he was familiar with the methods, alright.

And perhaps that was what made it so aggravating. The fact that he didn’t see it coming. The fact that it worked so well on him.

On a certain level, Dream had to commend him. He’d brought Dream closest to dying than he’d been in weeks, and while most of the blame laid on Dream for not seeing through it, he could still appreciate it.

On every other level, Dream wanted him dead.

The swirls finally disappeared and Dream clenched his fists.

Yeah, he’d make sure of that.

Slowly, painfully, Dream pulled himself up. The lightheadedness made him sway on his feet as he made his way to where the rest of his stuff was discarded. He clipped everything on, the added weight nearly making his knees buckle again, but he managed to stay upright and stagger to the staircase. Blood was steadily pumping out from his side and Dream grasped tightly at it, trying to lessen the flow at least somewhat. With the blood loss from before in the day, it wouldn’t take him long to lose enough to fall unconscious, so he needed to hurry. Coughs still ripped out of him from the leftover water in his lungs and he’d lean against the wall to get the most of it out before carrying on.

He didn’t remember being this far into the tunnels. Which way had he come from, anyway?

Another prolonged bong carried through the place. Time was nearly over. Dream didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t make it out before that but he’d rather not find out. So, he pushed through the corridors, avoiding any growls and hisses as a zombie would probably be enough to take him at this point. That’d just be pathetic, really, after everything.

C’mon, almost there.

Once he turned a corner, however, pink at the end of the hallway caught his attention and the two locked eyes. At first, a wave of relief washed over him but dread quickly took its place. He didn’t know these people. They were nothing more than the same names and faces, and that was it . Just because someone looked like his friend didn’t mean shit, and they’d probably have no issue with bashing his skull at the first convenient opportunity. Maybe. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. 

Gods, he wished this was his Techno, the one that he could trust, damned be everything else. 

He wished that, the moment Techno got to his side, already opening his mouth to speak, Dream didn’t have to muster up the remainder of his energy to snatch him by the front of his shirt and throw him against the wall, the broken edge of his dagger by his throat. Surprise flashed across Techno’s face but he didn’t make a move to break out, opting to stay still and wait.

Distantly, Dream realized he hadn’t put on his mask again and Techno could see every inch of his anger and desperation, the way his drenched hair stuck to his no doubt ghostly skin, everything raw and on full display.

Distantly, he thought fuck it.

Dream leaned in closer, lips twisting into a snarl, as he hissed, “I don’t want any bullshit anymore. Tell me straight if you’re gonna fuck me over or not.”

Without context, his outburst likely didn’t make much sense. But was anything else besides his state needed?

Techno stared at him for a beat longer before he smiled, hesitant. “Dream, pal. I’ve had you passed on my floor more times than I care to count. If I wanted to screw you over, I would’ve done so by now, don’t ya think?” Carefully, he wrapped his hand around Dream’s wrist. “C’mon, man. You know me better than that.”

Dream narrowed his eyes at him. “No, I don’t know,” he said, another round of coughs tearing through him. They were going to kill him; gods, this was painful. He couldn’t think. He just wanted to rest. Was that too much to ask for? “I don’t know— I don’t know shit in this— in this fucking place.”

 “Okay, well, uh,” Techno mumbled, cringing a bit. “Think about it. Why would I go out lookin’ for you and risk losin’ all my gold instead of cashin’ it in? I know you’re a smart guy, Dream, be reasonable here.”

He might have had a point there. It was difficult to tell. Black dots were in his vision. 

“I guess,” Dream muttered. He lost grip on the dagger and it fell from his grasp onto the floor with a clank. “I guess you’re right.”

His knees buckled beneath him but before he could crash down, Techno caught him. Dream was too tired to resist anymore and let Techno throw one of his arms around his shoulder while he held Dream up by his waist. 

“Alright, if you’re done with that, we’re gonna go back now,” he said and began half walking, half carrying Dream further down the corridor. “Just don’t die on me now, man, that’d be kinda cringe,” he chuckled, awkward.

Dream didn’t respond and instead let his eyes slip shut. They needed too much energy to be open. Vaguely, he could hear Techno speaking something else, but it all came to him through a thick fog, growing more distant by the second, until nothing could reach him anymore, and it was all darkness.

He really wanted to sleep.