Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a simple existence, the way they float. Together forever and always, tied together in a way that meant they couldn’t break apart from the others even if they were to eternally hate them. There’s not much there, though, not much to hate. Being intertwined so tightly, they may as well be one being rather than three seperate ones.

Except they had defining traits, ways they tore their conciousness from the others’ on days where it felt as if they’d faded into one.

Dream likes—no, he loves—the stars, the planets, the galaxies. The vast expanse of the universe and beyond, ensuring that he was something small, insignificant, that his actions were not the end all be all of anything other than his own fate. He finds it comforting, though Sapnap vehemently disagrees. George only scoffs everytime his visage wanders off among the stars, bathing himself in their bright presences, the way they swallowed the nothingness around them, paraded themselves about in the space they took up. He aspires to be a star.

The other two have always told him that’s a silly wish.

Sapnap is enraptured with smaller, albeit still rather large, things. Suns, their eventual supernovas, the way they’re all heading on a collision course that couldn’t be averted even with the mightiest of wills. It’s all fascinating, and he’s forced the others to watch more than one explosion of a sun, a star. The way it dims before glowing brighter than anything he’d ever seen before, spitting it’s image onto the rest of the universe for years to come, even as it ceases to exist.

George, however, never found anything he was interested in. It was lonely, despite his company, to be floating forevermore, doomed to never truly be a part of anything, forced to watch everything as it shrivels up and dies, pushed to the sidelines as worlds are destroyed, as millions of years of progress is destroyed in a mere second. He doesn’t understand how Dream finds comfort in it, how Sapnap is so infatuated by the dying of stars, of the map of their suffering as they leave. He only wishes for someplace to call home, a place where he felt he belonged.

And one day, he’s granted that wish.

Unbeknownst to Sapnap and Dream, of course, who went about their existence for a few moments before realizing the lack of a familiar third presence.

And they panic, running through the universe, pushing and pushing through planets and stars and asteroids and everything else they could possibly encounter before they’re drawn to an abrupt halt.

A blue planet, with a rather small sun, though most definitely not the smallest they’ve seen, and a mini system a mere few planets behind it. At first, Dream gravitates toward that mini system, taking in the tens of moons circling a red—no it’s more like orange—planet, but Sapnap snaps his attention back on the blue planet.

George is there. Both of them can sense it, but they don’t know how he’d gotten there. They’d always sat on the sidelines after all, how had George managed to push his way onto the court? Dream feels the want well up inside his gut, to join George, to see what was so captivating about the blue planet, but he gets the distinct feeling that he won’t be able to come back. Once he enters, there’s no more staying content on the sidelines.

But somehow, him and Sapnap both come to the same conclusion, and Dream’s quite pleased that they did. He doesn’t know if he wants an existence where he isn’t by Sapnap’s side—or George’s, for that matter, but he felt as if he could live without George, if it came down to it.

But being by Sapnap’s side was as essential to him as breathing.

And perhaps Sapnap knew it, and perhaps he agreed, and perhaps they still never spoke about it. It wasn’t Dream’s choice to make, and it’s not like they don’t have an eternity to decide what they’d like to do about it.

But instead of keeping that eternity, they descend. It’s quick and it’s painful, but overall it’s rather odd.

There’s a weight on Dream’s feet when he walks, his own weight, where before he’d only floated. He misses the weightless feeling almost immediately, but when he glances to his side and sees Sapnap, in all his glory and radiating so much warmth that Dream feels it from where he’s standing, he can’t help but feel his chest blossom with happiness. It’s a feeling he’s grown nearly immune to, with how much happiness was scattered around the universe for him to find and stuff into his pocket like a small treasure. But perhaps it’s the physicality of the moment, the feeling of the earth pulling him down to it, the expanding of his chest as he breathes, that makes the emotion all the different.

Sapnap meets his gaze, and for a moment they don’t worry about where George is. He takes in every inch, every centimeter of Dream’s face, making a map in his mind of every line, every color every freckle, each strand of hair. He’s certain Dream’s doing the same.

But Sapnap snaps out of it first. “Where’s George?”

Dream blinks at the abruptness of it, conjuring up his mind from where it was sat, simply cherishing every little bit of Sapnap. “I, uh…”

Sapnap scratches the back of his neck as he chuckles, glancing around to take in their surroundings. “This place is… a lot bigger than it looked.”

Dream shrugs, still trying to get his mind fully caught up. “Yeah.”

Sapnap raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course I am.” Dream scoffs, mentally punching himself—he needs to get a grip. “He’s probably around here somewhere, we should just start looking.”

“Split up?”

Dream doesn’t want to agree, not when it means leaving Sapnap’s side for more than a few seconds, but he tries to think about it logically—if they split up, they’d cover more ground, find George quicker. “Sure.”

And so, they do. Sapnap immediately turns to his right, and Dream contemplates a moment before taking a tentative step forward. It’s weird, but not unbearably so, and as he takes a few more steps he gets used to it. He still feels as if his shoulders are being dragged down to the dirt, though, like someone’s hanging off of them.

And then he’s shoving through leaves, blowing his hair out of his eyes, gingerly picking leaves out of his hair. It goes on for what feels like an eternity, though the sun’s only moved a little closer to the top of the sky by the time Dream checks. He groans, lets his eyes fall shut a moment and collapses to sit on the ground. It’s leagues more comfortable than standing up, he finds, and he doesn’t really want to walk anymore.

Luckily, not a few seconds later, Sapnap’s voice rings clear through the forest. “Dream! I found him! Where are you?”

Dream sighs before standing and cups his hands around his mouth. “Over here!” Dream yells, carefully making his way towards where he’d heard Sapnap’s voice come from.

They meet halfway, perhaps a bit quicker than Dream would’ve guessed. He takes a moment to observe George’s appearance.

It’s not surprising, aside from a couple off-white… sticks? poking shyly out of his fluffed up hair—Dream notes to ask what they are, why they’re there. Dark hair, dark eyes, a seemingly perpetually smiling face.

Wait, he’s smiling.

George, George is smiling.

Dream lets his face be consumed with a huge grin, bounces on his feet a few times. “George!”

George laughs and shakes his head. “Dream!”

Sapnap scoffs at them, but he’s smiling too. “George you said you had a… house?” He says the word slowly, as if not certain he’s using it correctly.

“Yeah, it’s back where I was before someone interrupted my much needed sleep,” George says, turning and gesturing for them to follow him. “C’mon.”

Dream follows excitedly, walking backwards so he can face the shorter two, easily keeping up with their pace. “So, what’re we gonna do after you show us your home?”

“Well, I’m gonna go back to sleep, you two can do whatever you want,” George chuckles a bit, but Dream can see the slight annoyance behind it.

“Sleep? Why?” Dream inquires, eyes flicking about the wilderness.

“Well, I kinda need—”

“Ow!” Dream winces, rubbing the back of his head as he glares at the thick tree branch that’d chosen to single handedly ruin his day. He turns around, walking forward, ignoring both the burn in his cheeks and the burn of gazes on his back.

“Anyway,” George says, in a horrible attempt to stifle his laughter.

Sapnap bursts out just seconds before George, and their progress halts. Dream pouts at them, but really stifles laughter of his own.

“You’re making fun of me,” he jokes, still pouting. “George!”

“What?” George manages, between giggles and gasps for breath.

“Yeah, George,” Sapnap says, laughter gone, but amusement still hidden just under the surface. He smacks the back of George’s head. “You’re so rude.”

“You were laughing too!” George fights to slap him back, only managing a few swipes in the empty air between them.

“Did not,” Sapnap insists, still obviously forcing his laughter down.

“Did too,” George fires back.

“Did—”

“Okay, okay, calm down, you’re both idiots,” Dream interrupts, in between chuckles of his own. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

George glares at Sapnap for a moment before huffing and pushing in front of Dream. “Yeah, whatever.”

Dream rolls his eyes once George is safely in front of him, and he watches as Sapnap’s shoulders shake with held back chuckles. They continue.

The rest of the walk is uneventful; Dream tears a leaf down, earning him a scolding from George. He crushes it between his fingers nonetheless, still ignoring the way George is very clearly annoyed. There’s so much green, and he finds it beautiful, sure, but he had to do something and if that something ended up being tearing down a single leaf, so what?

George’s house is a little thing, built of wood and stone; it’s by no means pretty, but it is functional. Though, Dream doesn’t know how he expects all three of them to sleep inside of it, now that the door’s open and they’re looking in.

Plus, he only has one bed.

“You’ve only got one—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got the wool to make more. Don’t worry, you won’t have to share a bed with me…” George scoffs, tossing the chest open and grabbing a few things. “You may have to share with Sapnap though.” He’s grinning when he turns back to them with one, rather than two, beds. He sets it down on the other side of the room.

Dream shakes his head. “I can sleep on the floor. Surely that’s too small to—”

“No, I’ll sleep on the floor,” Sapnap interjects. “And we can get another bed tomorrow.”

“Sapnap.”

“Dream.”

George rolls his eyes. “Just share the bed for fuck’s sake. It’s not that difficult.”

Dream twists his hands together. “We won’t be able to fit both of us on it.”

Sapnap shrugs. “We could make it work.”

“Or you and George could—”

“No. I need my rest and it will not be interrupted by that one’s stupidity,” George says, turning and laying down swiftly. “Make up your minds before the monsters start spawning.”

“The what?” Sapnap reels back, but George’s… already asleep. Dream wishes he had that talent, being able to fall asleep in mere moments.

Dream shrugs. “Sharing a bed can’t be too bad, right?”

—

Oh how wrong he was.

It wasn’t bad because of Sapnap. No, it was bad because Dream wants so strongly to wrap his arms around his best friend, hold him close, but with how he’s huddled against the wall, he obviously doesn’t want to be touched. And so Dream curls up on the edge of the bed, back-to-back with Sapnap.

Except he can’t sleep when he feels like any second he could bash his head against the hardwood flooring of George’s little home if he so much as shifted wrong. He stares at the back of George’s head, only slightly annoyed with his choice to join Sapnap in coming here.

Dream carefully moves, standing beside the bed for a moment to check that Sapnap’s still asleep before leaving the house. He sifts through George’s chest first of course, snatching up an iron sword and moving it in his grip as he opens and shuts the door. George mentioned monsters earlier, after all, and Dream isn’t stupid.

The forest is plain, but enthralling despite. It hums with the constant, incessant presence of life. Bugs fly in the air in front of him, land on his arms for a few moments before flying off. Wolves prowl in the forest surrounding him, and he watches as a group of them takes down a sheep, swift as blinking. They never once turn to him, as if they aren’t bothered by him invading their space.

He’s glad. He doesn’t have to kill them, that way. Best for the both of them.

At that thought, as if hearing it, one of them jerks its head towards him. It licks its tongue over its bloodied lips, squinting at him for a moment before turning back to its meal, unfazed. None of the others so much as glance his way after that, and he watches as they prowl onwards after their snack.

They leave behind a puff of wool, and he inspects it for a long while before picking it up, amazed at the spotlessness of it. Not a speck of dirt, dust, blood, or even wolf fur tainted its fibers. He stuffs it in his inventory, making a mental reminder to grab some more wool if he gets the chance—he is not risking sharing a bed with Sapnap again.

Wings whistle through the air somewhere above him, and he immediately snaps his eyes to the sky, ready to attack. The beings—because what are they?—continue flying, as if surveiling the area, their piercing eyes darting about. Their skin stretches across the bones of their wings so hollowly that you can see the stars shine through it. Their scaly undersides are so pale that Dream isn’t quite convinced they’re not just exposed bone. Bright green eyes stab through the dark night sky, searching endlessly, for ever and ever.

What a wretched existence to live. Doomed to search for those to kill, but only allowed to prey on a select few. Dream’s certain they’re a small race, one that’s most definitely had to resort to unkindly means to keep itself afloat. He shudders, rolling his shoulders and focusing back on the path ahead of him.

He reacts not a second after turning, though his mind hasn’t quite caught up, when a green-skinned beast a bit shorter than him is nearly right in front of him. It’s remarkably human, with a similar stature, despite its difference in gait. Its face could almost be human, if the eyes weren’t pitch back, the skin green and stretched thin over the bones and muscles as if hanging on for dear life.

When his sword cracks the skin of its chest rather than slicing it, he feels his gut clench a bit. Dead.

Undead?

Well, now it’s dead.

It falls limp against his sword, no dramatics, no blood, no screeches, just death and its stench permiating the air, now that Dream’s let it free from the being’s chest, the rot it contains. His gut churns hollowly again, and he heavily debates throwing the sword away, getting a new one, not dealing with the stench it must carry with it.

All of the animals that hadn’t fled already skitter away, while the bugs do the exact opposite. Dream pushes the body off of his sword and re-sheaths it, watching with mild disgust as the bugs start their work on the already half-decayed body. The sword, he notes, has no residue of any sort on it, spotless as when he grabbed it.

He continues his walk.

What ‘monsters’ they were, dying from a single hit. It wasn’t his best work, sure, he could’ve reacted faster, but with how George spoke of them, it’d seemed like they were a genuine threat to their lives. Dream nearly laughs out loud at the thought, but the still silence of the world around him kills the sound before it can even think of breaking the air.

The grass crunches softly under his boots and he savors the soft sound, knowing it’ll become something comforting, something familiar in the future. It isn’t now, but it will be and that’s enough for him to focus intently on it.

When an abrupt rattling in the distance cuts down the silence, he freezes, slowly grabbing his sword. He doesn’t pull it out, knowing it’ll make a sound if he does, but his hand grips the handle tight as he can. From the sounds of it, the monster—because, it has to be a monster, no animal made that sound—is walking, well, stumbling closer and closer to him.

What he doesn’t expect is when it breaches the shrubbery concealing it, it immediately lets an arrow fly. Dream ducks quickly, narrowly avoiding the sharp metal whizzing through the air; it hits a tree behind him with a dull thud, burying itself into the bark.

By the time he rights himself again, draws his sword, another arrow is close to being let loose. Thinking it’d simply fly past him from where it’s aimed, Dream doesn’t pay it any mind, surging forward and raising his sword. But just as he gets close enough to attack the thing, it lets the arrow loose.

It hits Dream’s forearm, digs into the flesh and muscle.

Dream still moves, despite it, jaggedly swinging the sword, dispersing the bones across the forest, knocking the bow to the ground.

He puts the sword away, pointedly not looking at his arm even as he feels the pain swell, fall like a wave upon the rest of his arm. He breaks the arrow, roughly pulls the sharp arrowhead from his arm, tosses everything aside. Foolish, he was so foolish. Reckless. Ignorant; he should’ve been paying attention.

He digs his fingers into the wound, feeling the pulse of his own skin, his muscle, under his hand. He doesn’t react, only shoves his hand further and further until he feels the hardness of bone.

And it hurts. It hurts.

But somehow it’s more grounding than it is painful.

He feels the blood slide itself under his fingernails, staining the raw skin there as he clenches his hand tighter and tighter.

He’s really here, he’s really able to die, able to be hurt. He’s really chosen to live out his days on this planet with George and Sapnap instead of floating throughout the vast universe, content and happy.

He rips more of his own skin open, exposing more raw skin, more muscle, making more blood drip down his arm, down his hand. The red shines beautifully against the lively green grass, the light of the stars dancing in it.

Dream smiles.

He chose right.

Chapter Text

The breeze blowing off of the ocean is salty, staining their lips with its taste. The water laps at the sand, a steady push and pull, something constant and grounding. It eases some part of Dream’s mind, while setting another part of him on edge. He watches as Sapnap and George mess around in the shallow shore, splashing each other and shrieking when the saltwater gets into their eyes.

He only watches, perhaps because it’s a peaceful moment and if he joins, it may be ruined. Perhaps because even just the idea of being splashed with water makes him wince. Either way, he sits silently, knees drawn up to his chest, simply observing.

“Dream!” George shrieks as Sapnap very clearly gets the upperhand in their little water fight. “Help me!”

“That’s cheating!” Sapnap protests, not in the slightest letting up the pressure.

Dream smiles, shaking his head fondly at the two. “You got yourself into this George.”

“Yeah, George,” Sapnap agrees, attempting to dunk George’s head under the water, despite the unlikeliness of the move being successful in such shallow water. The surface of the water reaches to about knee high on them, not nearly high enough to reliably pull off a move like that.

And Sapnap doesn’t pull it off; George shoves him off while scoffing, “Fine. Not like I need your help, anyway.”

Dream laughs under his breath, shaking his head again as he rests his chin on his knees. “Of course not,” he teases, eyes squinting with his smile.

George turns to glare at him, and Sapnap thinks fast, taking the opportunity to tackle him into the water. George’s screeches send Dream into a laughing fit, and his eyes are blurry as he watches George jerk back into a standing position, glaring at the water as if it’d personally offended him.

He stalks off, sitting not close to, but not far away from Dream.

Sapnap shakes his hair off like a dog as he moves towards them with a pout. “George,” he draws out the name until George snaps back at him.

“What?”

“Don’t just give up,” Sapnap attempts to goad him on, earning him a huff and an upturned nose.

“I’m not giving up,” George plainly states.

“Well, then why’d you stop?” Sapnap borderline whines, his patience drawing shorter.

Dream’s already slowly moving farther away from the two by the time Sapnap turns on him. He acts like he doesn’t notice; he is not rough housing with Sapnap in the water. He won’t even entertain the idea enough to feel repulsion.

“Dream,” Sapnap pouts. “Please, George won’t play with me.”

Dream closes his eyes and turns away, attempting to burn that pleading look from his memory; he is not giving in. “No. Can’t we just—”

“But—Dream,” Sapnap whines again, this time moving closer as well. Dream tries his hardest to ignore the strong hands that wrap around his arm, fully capable of forcing him to move if they wanted, but instead only gently grasping his elbow. Sapnap tugs on his arm lightly.

“Sapnap,” Dream sighs in a similar tone, almost mocking but not quite. A tone they know all too well.

A tone that indicates he’s close to giving in.

He can hear Sapnap’s dramatic pout. “Dream, please,” he begs again.

“Why?” Dream grits out, ignoring the huffs of laughter to the side of him. He’ll kill George after he’s done dealing with Sapnap.

“Because I want you to,” Sapnap explains, much too sure of himself. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Dream raises an eyebrow, squints his eyes open hesitantly. “You promise?”

Sapnap nods, and when Dream hesitates to instantly shoot down the idea, his smile grows wider and wider until it’s as blinding as the sun. “C’mon!”

“I didn’t agree yet, I just—” He’s cut off by Sapnap pulling him up to stand and over to where the waves embrace the shore, their light foam gathering and dissipating into the sand.

It’s breathtaking, viewing the water up close, the way it seems to thrum with energy as it pushes and pulls itself in a battle with the unyielding shore. The sand under the water is denser, tried by these battles and strengthened by them. He’s close enough that when the water darts out another attack, it laps at his ankles. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s not at all as calming as simply watching from farther away.

Perhaps Sapnap at his side makes it a bit more bearable. But that’s neither here nor there.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Sapnap asks, reaching down to cup his hands in the water, watching as it runs through the small gaps between his fingers, as it drips down his arms.

Dream’s thoughts briefly flash to a few nights prior, to rubies shining amongst emerald grass, but he shakes them away and offers Sapnap a small smile and a shrug. “Maybe a bit.”

Sapnap grins back at him, and it’s peaceful for a moment.

Though, only a moment. Sapnap quickly moves on the offensive, trying to splash Dream as much as possible. The thought of walking around in damp clothes fuels Dream to swiftly dodge those attempts—though, it isn’t that difficult when Sapnap isn’t really trying, at least not like he had with George—and he moves to splash Sapnap. It isn’t a good attempt, and falls short a whole foot before even reaching Sapnap’s outstretched arms, but it’s fun. It isn’t about being perfect; none of them had even interacted with a beach before this, for fuck’s sake, how would they be good at this, much less perfect?

Dream still hears that single, needling thought that tells him he needs to get better at this, needs to learn all the tricks, all the secrets. That he needs to learn how to navigate the water perfectly, move about it with practiced ease.

But it’s easy to push down when Sapnap’s random jagged splashes distract him. He laughs as he splashes water right into Sapnap’s smiling mouth.

Sapnap spits it out dramatically. “Hey! That’s foul play!” he accuses, but his eyes still crinkle a bit at the edges with his joy.

Then Dream’s being charged at. In hindsight, he should’ve expected it; Sapnap had done the exact same to George, after all. He doesn’t realize they’re fairly deep into the water until then, when he tries to move, to dodge, and it’s like walking in slow motion, with just his legs underwater. The blow is expected, but still leaves him slightly winded as they fall into the water together, leaving a huge splash in their wake.

Sapnap quickly lets up the pressure, allowing them to swim to the surface.

“Ugh, I’m all wet,” Dream groans, reaching up to gently wring some of the water out of his hair.

Sapnap grins, punching a fist into the air triumphantly. “I win again! You guys suck at this,” he laughs out.

Dream waits until he’s looking over for George’s approval to pounce. He watches as George smirks, noticing his plan mere seconds before it’s enacted.

They end up sprawled half in the water half out, with the side of Sapnap’s face buried in the sand.

“Hey! That’s not allowed!” Sapnap protests, through what must be a mouthful of sand, not really trying to push Dream off of him.

“Oh, so it’s fine when you do it, but not when I do, huh?” Dream inquires, maneuvering to disentangle them and help Sapnap to his feet outside of the water.

“I did it into the water, not onto the sand, you idiot.”

“Same difference.”

“Is not!”

“Shut up Sapnap.” George rolls his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you,” Sapnap crosses his arms, turns to Dream. “Well, I won anyway.”

“If you say so,” Dream teases.

Sapnap only huffs. “I do say so.”

Dream only shakes his head as he settles down onto the grass next to George. “You definitely won against George.”

George scoffs but doesn’t comment.

Sapnap moves to sit next to Dream, close enough for Dream to be able to feel his radiant warmth, but not close enough that their knees touch. It’s comforting, his two best friends at his sides, simply sitting and watching as the sun dances across the water, its reflection sparkling on the peaks of light blue waves. Dream could sit there forever, in the peaceful and calm atmosphere.

Unfortunately, though, the sun starts dipping closer and closer to the horizon. It’s halfway covered by water when George finally stands up and dusts himself off.

“We should probably get going,” George points out, glancing expectantly at the other two, who haven’t moved even an inch.

Dream sighs but stands. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Sapnap follows suit, no words said.

They push their way through the woods, holding up low hanging branches and flicking thin vines out of their way. It’s not long before they arrive at George’s house again, lonely as ever in its small clearing.

Sapnap groans. “Weren’t we gonna build another house?”

Dream pauses. “Shit, we forgot.”

George laughs. “You mean, you guys forgot.”

“Well, you could’ve reminded us!” Sapnap huffs.

George only shrugs with a grin.

Dream rolls his eyes. “Good thing we collected the supplies to make another bed, then.”

The house is just as cramped as before, with George digging around in his chest for the materials while Dream and Sapnap wait, fidgeting, at the firmly closed door. The moon quickly appears, bringing its stars with it into the dark night sky. It’s as beautiful as the first day Dream saw them, twinkling and dancing about the sky.

But, eventually, another bed is laid out, leaving only a little bit of floor to walk around on, and they all lay down, with George snuffing out the lamp he’d made earlier that day. Easier than torches, and not difficult to make, he’d explained. Dream mostly loves the intricate way the metal wraps and folds itself around the flame, acting like both a cage to contain and arms to cradle the light so very gently.

It looks extremely lonely without its flame, and Dream decides to not think about it any longer, feeling his mind make connections where none should be formed–things it may symbolize. He shakes his head, moves to lay on his back, staring emptily at the ceiling.

He listens intently as George’s breaths even out, then Sapnap’s. As eyes fall shut and the rest of the world sleeps while he stares, hollowly, at nothing. Him and the monsters, the only notable things up and prowling still at such a late hour.

Perhaps they weren’t so different.

His hand drifts to his arm, where mere days ago his fingers had dug in, had felt about his own muscle and bone. Now, the skin doesn’t have a single mark, the only evidence of the event being his memory.

And can memory even be trusted?

Dream shudders and turns to his side, curling in on himself as he glances over at the black waves splayed across a blindingly white pillow. He conjures up the slightly fuzzy images of Sapnap from earlier that day; him grinning, laughing, staring up at the sky, brushing the tips of his fingers against the soft bark of an oak tree. It’s enough to quell his thoughts, even if he still can’t sleep.

—

Maybe Dream steals the axe from George, and maybe he takes his frustration out on the birch and oak trees that surround his house. Maybe he also cleaves off more than one creeper head, being much too high alert for them to sneak up on him.

He’s come to the conclusion that he’s different, thst he doesn’t need sleep, not like George and Sapnap do. Maybe he’s wrong, but it’s the only logical conclusion he could come up with.

He dumps his inventory into the chest, a stack and a half of oak and half a stack of birch. Along with six gunpowder, two arrows, and five rotten flesh. It’s probably trash, but maybe George has some use and would not be pleased with him if he just threw them out.

He must do it too loudly, because Sapnap groans and rubs some of the sleep out of his eyes.

“What’re you doing up so early?”

Dream freezes, gently closes the chest. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep, Pandas.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Sapnap points out, eyes clearer as he crosses his arms.

“Oh.” Dream had hoped he’d be tired enough to just go back to sleep. “I, uh, got the materials for a house.” Or two, or three, or four, but he doesn’t say that.

Sapnap yawns, stretching before standing up. “Really? Nice. Wanna go make it before George wakes up?”

Dream nods. “Preferably.”

They both know they’ll get distracted with George trying to show them everything about this world. It’s truly enrapturing how much life this world can sustain, the diversity of animals and plants. Dream doesn’t doubt they’d get caught up in discovering it all, if given the chance.

Once they’ve got the materials—what a waste of time, putting them in the chest was—they wander. It’s silent, comfortable, but Dream’s sure to be aware of their surroundings, watching for any zombie or skeleton that’d hid itself under the shade of a tree. Once they’ve wandered for a few minutes, though, he lets himself rest a bit.

“So, how do you like this place so far?” Dream asks lighty.

Sapnap shrugs. “It’s nice, and I like spending time with you and George.”

Dream narrows his eyes at him, noticing the slight tension in his words, but doesn’t push. “Me too! It’s been fun.”

He neglects to mention his trouble sleeping, not to mention the odd thoughts that’ve creeped their way into his mind, like a snake slowly moving to constrict the throat of its prey. Dream shakes his head, putting on a smile when Sapnap glances at him.

Sapnap opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the whish of an arrow right by his shoulder.

And Dream fails. He fails at protecting Sapnap, he fails at killing the skeleton before Sapnap gets hit.

He’s only lucky it’s not somewhere fatal.

But he knows there won’t be a single bit of evidence that this happened in an hour’s time.

“Here,” Dream hands him an apple, “this should help. I’ll remove the arrow.”

“What?” Sapnap jerks his arm away from him. “Why would you remove it? I’ll bleed out!”

Dream sighs. “Just—trust me, Pandas.”

Sapnap glances from Dream to his arm a few times before finally loosening up. “Okay, but if you’re wrong and I do bleed out, I’m going to kill you.”

Dream laughs, but they both know it’s forced. He doesn’t say anything—hell, he doesn’t even breathe—as he gently pries the arrow from Sapnap’s arm, careful to not make the wound any bigger than it needs to be.

Dream taps the hand still holding the apple, Sapnap having not moved to take even a single bite. “Eat it.”

Sapnap scoffs but takes a bite. “How would this even help?”

Dream shrugs. He doesn’t understand how it works, only knows that it does. Thankfully, Sapnap seems to trust him, or not care, enough that he continues eating the apple.

It’s worrying, to sit and wait, watch as the blood flows, hoping Sapnap will heal.

“How do you know all this anyway, Dream?”

“Huh?” Dream glances up from the wound to meet Sapnap’s eyes.

“I asked how you know all this shit.”

Dream shrugs. “I figured it out.”

“Yeah, but how?” Sapnap pries, leaning in. “I won’t tell George,” he whispers, as if it’s some sort of grand secret.

Dream scoffs. “It’s unimportant.”

“Sure,” Sapnap concedes, but still sounds unconvinced. “Okay, when will it start to heal then, genius.”

The blood flow has lessened significantly, and it looks as if the skin is stitching itself together as they speak. Dream grabs a piece of gauze from his inventory—George had forced him to carry safety supplies, despite his complaints about how they took up way too much space for what they were worth—and wets it with some rubbing alcohol. He gently grasps the wrist of Sapnap’s hurt arm before moving to rub off some of the dried blood running down his arm.

He finds it funny how similar their injuries were, the only difference being that Sapnap’s was on his bicep where Dream’s had been on his forearm. But they were on the same arm, their left, and left similar residue.

“Woah, that’s… weird,” Sapnap mumbles, eyes trained on what used to be his injury.

Dream nods. “If I hadn’t removed the arrow, your skin would’ve healed around it, making it that much more painful to remove later. The healing process would also be much longer,” he explains while grabbing some of the bandages from his inventory. “Tell me if I wrap it too tight, yeah?”

“Okay,” Sapnap agrees, watching curiously as Dream wraps what now looks like merely a deep cut.

“It won’t fully heal for a little while, but for now this should do. Just, leave the building to me, okay?”

Sapnap nods, moving his arm around once Dream finishes the bandage. “Thanks, by the way.”

Dream frowns. “What for?”

Sapnap blinks slowly at him. “What for?”

Dream glances away. “You’d do it for me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you,” Sapnap scoffs.

“I guess.”

They continue their trek, as if nothing had happened. Silence thrums between them, occasionally interrupted by the rustling of a bush or the chirping of a bird.

It takes forever for them to find a good place. It’s a stunning lake, water clear as glass with sparkling sand and gravel lining its shores. It only takes an hour for him to build a bridge across it, and they plan to make a house in the middle of it, but take a minute to rest.

“Sorry for not being able to help,” Sapnap chuckles. “It’s boring just watching you do stuff.”

Dream shrugs. “Best that you don’t reopen the wound.” He knows firsthand how that feels, having brushed off his injury far too quickly, and he’d bargain that it hurt even worse than the initial wound. Though, since Sapnap’s injury ended up being significantly smaller, maybe it wouldn’t hurt nearly as much.

Dream’s thoughts are interrupted by the rumble of Sapnap’s stomach. He chuckles a bit. “You hungry? We can head back for now.”

“But, that’ll take forever.”

“I know the way back, so it won’t. Plus George’s probably worrying about us right about now,” Dream tacks on, hoping to convince Sapnap.

Sapnap worries his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks. “… I guess you’re right.”

And maybe it feels like they’ve accomplished nothing, and maybe Dream bounces on his feet with his excess energy because of it. But they’d enjoyed the day, the sun, the outdoors, and he tries to convince himself that’s enough.

Even though they’re going to go back to the same cramped cabin later that night. Even though Dream’s going to not fall asleep, no matter how hard he tries.

He shakes his head, standing and offering a hand to Sapnap, who takes it and stands with ease.

With the direct route, it only takes a few minutes to get back to George’s house—and oh, how much time they wasted that morning—though they have to cut and shove their way through significantly more branches and vines in the process. It’s not long before they meet up with George, who smacks them over the head multiple times, saying they should’ve told him they were leaving.

“Sorry, sorry!” Dream ducks out of the way of another smack. “Give us a break.”

“No! I thought you guys died, or…” left. It goes unsaid, but the silent whisper of the word is akin to a blow to the chest, and Dream’s breath catches.

“I’m sorry, George,” he says, much more earnestly this time. Perhaps George senses that, because he calms down, but still points an accusing finger at the both of them.

“Just don’t do it again. We have to stick together,” George says, sternly; Dream nods in agreement.

Sapnap mock salutes him. “Aye aye, cap.”

It earns him another smack.