Chapter Text
Reds and oranges, the colors of the setting sky, Dream would have to get used to not seeing them anymore. In this city the buildings truly touched the clouds, blocking out so much of the beauty of the day changing. At least the more suburban area Dream moved from had very little light pollution, he was able to make out the brighter stars in the twilight hours of night, dotting it with an expanse of freckles. He liked glancing over the spots, each one gave the sky another element of personification. Between the day and night, clearly the sky was a whole person.
With a half-heartened sigh, Dream popped a stock mint into his mouth and unlocked the hotel door, the outside already felt freezing against his back. The leather of his jacket and the thick denim of his jeans did little in breaking the cold seeping into his skin. He shut the door behind himself with his foot, unhooking his backpack from his shoulder and carelessly throwing it onto the queen bed in the center of the room. Dream rove his eyes over his surroundings distractedly, noting the unseemly carpet design and the yellowed lighting.
Tugging at his jacket, his thoughts wandered to the sky again, the city's endless man-made monuments and blazing neon markers and signs made it impossible to appreciate it's pretty features. The way it beckons so sweet-like, the dangerous line to cross. Man is bound to Earth, to forever admire space from afar, and to try to take flight is selfish of Man. Yet here Dream is, wishing he could learn to fly a plane if to touch the atmosphere. Instead, he dug out his toothbrush and padded into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
He figured he wouldn't get a lot of sleep like usual. Dream would lay in the many beds he's been in the last few days, hand reaching and brushing the place next to him on the mattress. It's been a couple of years since he last saw her, yet he still longingly stared at the passenger seat in his couped-up McLaren as if hoping to have someone appear next to him. He sighed at the mirror, dragging himself from his thoughts by splashing water onto his face. Locating the towel, he skimmed over his features. Dream looks bad.
Eye bags and dark circles, hair unruly and unkempt, clothes wrinkly and loose on his frame. Dream almost didn't recognize himself, if it wasn't for the fact that he's now used to seeing himself in this state that is. How long has it been since he saw a smile on his face? His ragged appearance reminded Dream of some of the homeless that wandered his hometown. In a way, he's just like them.
Homeless in every sense of the word, no family or place to stay, he's lost and alone and constantly thinking, "what's next?"
If he's learned one thing is that when he starts pondering the meaning of his existence it's time for bed. Blinking, he realizes it's late, Dream throws the hand towel onto the bathroom counter and rubs his jaw. Padding back out of the bright space, he finds he was in there for over twenty minutes. Grunting and mumbling obscenities to himself under his breath, he stripped to his underclothes and unceremoniously fell onto the cheap mattress.
...
Too soon was his phone alarm going off next to his head on the nightstand, Dream forgetting to plug it in the night before. With a groan, he stood on shaky legs and turned it off with more force than he intended. Glancing at the battery, he grudgingly plugged it in and decided to leave it. There's no point in bringing a dead phone with him, especially when there'll be no one attempting to contact him. Dream groggily pawed at his eyes and tried to locate where he threw his clothes. Once he was grabbing his keys he realized he would want his phone to play music in his car.
Resigned, he grabbed it again and left the small motel room, giving himself a quick pat down at the door to make sure he had everything. Once in the parking lot, Dream found himself giving his super car a once over. Not a scratch or dent marred the paint, the rims still in perfect condition. Clearly the rumors about the city turned out to be true.
People here really did care more about cars than anything else.
Trash littered the parking lot, no longer under the guise of night to hide the many marked walls around the motel. The only kind of vandalism in sight was on the couple-stories high building itself. Judging from the amount of other vehicles scattered around the lot, Dream knew that there must've been a lot of people around, yet the many sports and non-sports parked and aimlessly driving around the building showed no sign of damage. In Dream's hometown, he was used to waking up to find windows smashed in or shipped paint on his old McLaren.
He could really get used to this place.
Dream lifted his eyes to admire the sky for a second, the few clouds and swatches of blue peaking from tall buildings and reflective glass from the downtown area. He already missed the sky. Soon enough he was back to lightly jogging towards the low racer and climbing in, plugging his phone into the jack and picking a playlist. Tapping his steering wheel in time to the song, Dream thought critically of his new home. There were positives and negatives.
Here he could fit in more with people, everyone's love of cars and racing clicked better with Dream, but that didn't guarantee his ability to make friends. He's always been a bit of a loner, people didn't approach him and he didn't approach them. It was a wonder he got that far with her.
Dream shook his head, stopping his thoughts to redirect them. This time he'll try, he'll make friends, he'll be successful. Not to mention that money he can earn from racing. All he has to do is make sure he gets his spoiled McLaren outfitted as best as he can currently afford. It may not be much this time around, but Dream's previous work on the supercar should be enough to make some sparks.
Just in time for his song to end, he was pulling into the autobody garage, colorful spray paint art decorating the walls and the doors barely peaking from the ceiling. The entrance wide and gaping, pulling inside the roof seemed two stories away, confirmed by the stairs and catwalk by the side of the space. If he squinted, he could make out an "Employee's Only" sign posted on a door leading into a different part of the building. A man with a ugly green polo and bucket hat straightened from his position over a Mustang's engine, turning his head at the purring newcomer vehicle and letting out a low whistle in appreciation.
Climbing out, Dream was met with the man offering a kind smile, "Welcome! You must be new around here," he said, voice warm.
Dream nodded and held out a hand, "Dream, my name is Dream."
The man, Philza, took it, "Nice to meet you, I'm Philza. How can I help you?"
"I was just looking to outfit my baby as much as I can right now, gonna enter her in a few of your famous routes."
"We can do that, let's take a look at her," Philza opened the hood and glanced over his shoulder, "Wilbur!" Dream followed his eyes farther into the shop where a tall man in a beanie was polishing the top of a Nissan. Wilbur looked up and hurried over, abandoning his task for later.
"Yea?"
Philza returned to the sport's engine, eyebrows raising, "Get my good toolbox, we got some work to do." Wilbur nodded to himself and started towards the back wall, sparing a little smile towards Dream as he went. "Take a seat, Dream, she's in good hands. I'll call you over when I'm done."
Dream glanced around to find a sitting area under the cat walk, a filled trophy case and a small wall TV decorating the space. He padded over and sat, immediately turning his attention to the TV, which was currently on a news channel. The newcomer could hardly focus on it, but could make out that the new head of the police was making a speech on how he and his task force was going to crack down on night racing, ending it one for all.
Dream snorted to himself, thinking how they were in for a treat. Him and his McLaren are going to give them a run for their money.