Never Say Goodbye | FWT

9. break a leg

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?" He asked. He waited and waited for them to notice but the two were clouded in fear. Circling them silently as they spoke in hushed tones. The eldest of the two's eyes began to grow as the younger spoke rushed.

There was silence and all he could hear were the quiet whistles of the wind against the trees. Either reality was playing a sick joke on him, or he's gone. "Where's your brother?" The man asked over the young boy's sobs. It has been far too long. He should've come back by now, but here he was. He was there. If they had only just left the door open...

But the days and weeks were never kind to him. "Please don't cry, it's going to be okay," the father would soothe his son. "I promise, you'll see him again soon." Lies. Lies. Lies. Cause that's all that could be said; broken promises to aid one's grief.

And maybe he assumed it was the end when he made himself a new familiar face. The reckless boy down the road poking at him with a stick, the most he's felt in those long months. "Who are you?" were the words that gave him hope.

Unfortunately for him, the months had dragged out into a year. "What are you talking about? That's impossible," the man questioned, not willing to play in what he thought was a game. But the boy persisted, he too, was unwilling to give up for his new friend. "Leave my family out of your nonsense," he left off, keeping his youngest son arms length away from the door and the stranger that stood before him.

"Leave Dream out of this."

He suddenly woke up. Sweat dampened hair stuck itself to his face. He pushed it away as he moved to rub his eyes, looking up at the ceiling of his room. It was dark. It was cold. And Fundy was sleeping beside him, his hand subconsciously holding his. Not much had changed in the past few days. Except Dream had made quite the compelling argument on why he should be the one to sleep in the other room— seeing as where he woke up, Fundy managed to change his mind.

Sitting up and unwrapping himself from the other's tired limbs was a struggle in itself, but the thirst for water propelled him forward. Slowly tiptoeing down the hall, carefully avoiding the creaks within the floors, which led him to find the familiar glow of the candle in the middle of the table. And, of course, someone slouched in the deepest cushions of the armchair to accompany it.

"I'm worried that I'm going to have slay phantoms for you as well," he commented. Grabbing one of the already bottled waters, he shut the cabinet softly and looked over at the sight. "You need to sleep," he sighed, raking his hair away from his eyes.

The figure hummed in acknowledgement, reaching out their hand. Dream took it, along with taking a rather large gulp of his water. "Says you," he whispered, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. His dad stared up at him through the darkness, a shared thought between the both. "Nightmares?"

Dream was silent. He took another sip.

"You can talk about it you know?" Schlatt said. He pulled Dream over his lap, grunting, "Jesus, sometimes I forget you're not a cranky little eight year old," he remarked causing Dream to laugh.

Dream draped himself over Schlatt, allowing himself to be more comfortable and shift his weight more on the chair rather than his dad. "You're still a cranky old man so I wouldn't say much has changed," he said.

"You're an asshole."

"Always have been," he smirked. "But," he looked at him, "why are you even awake at this hour? You know this can't be healthy and god if Tubbo found out, you know he would drug you to sleep."

Schlatt sighed, staying silent for a moment or two before speaking. "Sometimes the quiet is nice," he said. "It lets me think about things." Dream yawned. "Lets me think about you and Tubs. It lets me think about work and how much I hate it," he laughed quietly. "Which reminds me," he perked up, "when are you collecting your dues?"