Dream stood by the cliff in Overtale, the breeze blowing past him and leaving the traces of cold against his bones.
Dream couldn't grasp what thoughts kept rushing through his head. The struggle and the strain- the pain of having to remember the things he didn't want to remember.
Dream's hands fidgeted, tugging at the edges of his yellow gloves and tugging on the rough fabric. It felt suffocating, standing alone and wondering what to do with himself while waiting like a sitting duck.
His ribs felt like they were closing in- the ribs puncturing his non-existent lungs. It was hard to breathe, like blood painfully pooling within.
It felt suffocating, having to know if Ink agreed to this stupid proposition that he'd end up going back to that god-forsaken AU.
He heard the portal sound behind him- Ink stepping out and walking over to Dream excitedly. "So, what did you wanna talk about?" Ink asked, then pausing when he saw the look on Dream's face.
It was never of concern, only a blank slate of someone soaking in what to immitate next.
"... Nightmare has invited us to Dreamtale." Dream managed to get out, reaching into his pocket and handing the scroll to Ink with a grim look in his eyes. "You know damn well what that means." Dream let the paper crinkle against Ink's chest- staring deep into his eyes like the shorter did back at him.
Ink caught the scroll before it fell, staring at the slightly cracked purple seal.
"I don't, Dream. So enlighten me." Ink kept the smile up, pealing off the seal and letting it crumble in his grip. Ink's eyes never left Dream's, that all-knowing look but he never said he knew.
Dream stayed silent.
"Nightmare apparently wants a truce. Killer found me in Outertale and gave me another piece of paper." He dug in his other pocket, pulling out the wrinkled piece and holding it up in front of Ink's face. "Killer said he found it in Horrortale, and that they got five more in the stupid castle my brother took over."
"Five more?" Ink asked, skeptical of their intentions. Ink opened the scroll, reading through the contents. "It looks legit, has big NM's signature at the bottom and another of them wax seals." Ink scratched the back of his skull, turning it over to the back incase he missed something important.
"I'm fine with it." Ink scrunched up the paper and tossed it to the side, listening to the crinkle sounds of the paper bouncing and rolling against the grass.
Dream wasn't so happy with Ink's answer, but he knew that Ink was prioritizing the AU restoration over anything. His feelings wouldn't hold much weight...
"I'm not going." Dream managed to get out. "It'll be too much for me as I am now, and I must prioritize spreading positivity like how you prioritize your AU's." Dream waved his hand dismissively, letting Ink take the scrap of paper from his hand and examine it per usual.
"Perhaps you should go under mental training." Ink suggested, putting the paper securely in his pocket so he could rejoin it with the other scraps afterward.
"Mental..." Dream paused, biting back his tongue. Ink was right, sure, but damn this skeleton was starting to really get in his head.
Dream just let out a sigh. He turned on his heels (literally) and plopped both his hands onto Ink's shoulders and bent his knees to be at his level. "Whatever. Just go there to Nightmare's with whoever you wanna go with. Do what you want, but in the end I know all you want are those pieces of paper." Dream then let go, walking off through the forrest pathway and leaving Ink there at the ledge alone.
Ink didn't say much, but eventually went through the portal while ringing someone on the watch.
Dream heard the portal close, and looked forward, tensing at the sight of a skeleton a few meters in front of him.
Purple shirt and pants. That crown...!
Dream's breath hitched and caught in his throat, taking a step back and nearly tripping on a tree root.
The fast blinking of his sockets that didn't help his panic, his back being pressed against a tree as he kept his sockets shut to compose himself. His hands grasped at the fabric of his coat, breath catching in his throat and feeling unobtainable.
Dream let himself sink into the ground below. The leaves crunched under him, the reminder autum was ever present across the multiverse. Dream had to wonder if autum was always this cold, however.
It felt suffocating, and that suffocation made him feel like he was dying. He felt like he was drowning, gurgling and choking on liquids he didn't know he had in his boney body.
A cough here, a gasp there.
It took thirty minutes to calm down, and it was quickened when Dream heard footsteps approaching- the leaves that crunched being an indicator.
He opened a portal, falling through and landing on the plush mattress on his bed. He nearly socked his jaw on the bed frame... but he could care less at this point.
The bed embraced him- providing that secure comfort that allowed him to let out all his sadness in the form of choked sobs and wrecked breaths.
Dream's eye lights drifted around the room- a colorful wall with paint splattered all over. Was it Ink? No, it was him.
Ink gave him painting lessons once, before he became even further diluted and even more so washed out. It was back when he was freshly introduced to the multiverse, able to see the colorful sights of Ink's Doodlesphere.
His poor brother, his dear Night!-
Dream reached out towards a torn painting, one he had broken in his rage. He couldn't even remember his own brother's face. How could he even call himself such a familiar title? All he can see instead is that black goop that took over him.
He stumbled, rolling off the bed and letting out a groan between his broken sobs. Dream crawled over to the most recent one. One from a week ago.
"... Goddamn it... FUCK!" Dream yelled, taking off his crown and throwing it across the room. It made a loud clatter- the crown leaving a slight dent in the wall of his closet.
"Night... Oh, Night... Forgive me, I beg of you!" Dream cried m, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears. His world was cruel, despite it being beautiful.
"Night...!" His tears wetted to canvas, ones that might dry and fade once after a few hours.
The repeat of his brother's name echoed through the room, the only thing other than his sobs and sniffles. Mourning something long gone, it was a trivial matter.
All Dream could remember was a blotched out face.
Did he have purple eyes? Or red?
Were they always that haunting green?
Dream didn't know, his fingers shredding the canvas as his cries strangled him like a tight leash on a dog's collar.
His poor, sweet Night. His Night. Oh, how he missed his Night.
He hoped his Night would miss him too, and not be the same one staring at him with that blank stare. The same stare of indifference that haunted his dreams- and shook him to his soul.