𝗵𝗶𝗯𝗶𝘀𝗰𝘂𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ° ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐⁿᵒᵇˡᵃᵈᵉ

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 | 十三

The walk back home was quiet and so much more uneventful than their earlier marathon of running around the neighbourhood.

The silence was awkward, to say the least. The sounds of tired leathered shoes against the pavement was almost overwhelming with how quiet it was.

Techno was hyperaware of how close Dream was walking beside him, his warm shoulder brushing against his with every step they take. His wary instincts were telling him to shove the boy away from him, that the last time he had even walked someone home was--

"I'm sorry." Dream speaks up suddenly, breaking the older's bitter memories of someone he used to know.

"What?" He asks in confusion.

"We knew each other for so long and I didn't even try to stand up for you against the rumors." The blonde mumbles under his breath, picking at the stray threads of his now dirtied lime hoodie. "I wish I could've at least done something."

Techno huffs, "we are not friends. I only talked to you when we were kids because of my brother so don't feel too guilty about it."

Dream hums.

"What about Project Youth?"

Techno almost halts in his tracks but regains his composure quickly.

"What about it?"

Dream glances at him unassuming and somehow he understood what he meant.

"That's... different." Techno shoves his hands on his pockets, posture rigid. "I didn't know it was you."

"Would it have made a difference if it wasn't me?" Dream asks again and Techno clicks his tongue.

"What are you getting at?" He frowns.

Dream smiles softly before walking past him, walking backwards as he stares at the pinkette. "I'm saying that if you don't really want me to talk to you at school, we could always talk in Project Youth like we did before."

"I don't want to talk to you at all." Techno shoves past him with his shoulder, making the younger stumble in his steps before trying to catch up to him again.

"You don't mean that." Dream insists with a patient smile, optimistic as always and Techno hates how he feels his own features soften.

The blonde was right, he doesn't mean it. Knowing Clay as Dream doesn't make any difference; he enjoys their midnight conversations and their friendly banters and wouldn't change it for the world. But what Dream doesn't understand is that this isn't about Techno. He couldn't care less about what they thought of him anymore but if the people at their school knows that the younger is associated with him, they would ostracize him. Not to mention that Dream's mysterious infatuation is probably attending the same school as them, it's impossible that the boy haven't at least heard about the rumors about him, and Techno is kind enough to not want to ruin it for Dream, the one person that could actually tolerate his brash behaviour.

He couldn't imagine someone raising their fist at someone as kind as Dream because of him, he just couldn't. But then again, it is normal to be selfish.

They're not friends, or at least Techno tries to deny it, but he can't just let Dream go, not when he had already felt comfortable enough to even let himself be vulnerable around him.

So he settles for a small, "maybe."

"Maybe?" He nods and Dream tilts his head in confusion.

Dream wouldn't get his reasoning behind his brashness or his hostility but he couldn't care less, because Dream deserves kindness, something that he had selflessly shown Techno from the start. This is just his way of repaying it. (At leadt he thinks so but he knows he's already coming undone; he's becoming too soft.)

Their family bakery is slowly coming to view and they put away the conflicts for later when they're both ready.

Techno tries to button up his shirt properly and tuck his hair neatly behind his ear, combing through pink locks in attempt to look like he did not just got his shit beaten up and ran through a fucking marathon before going inside the establishment.

"Um," Dream fiddles with his fingers. "I'll see you soon. I think."

"Yeah." He hums, hand already on the front door's handle.

Dream offers him an awkward wave before walking away. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He pushes at the door and he could already feel the exhaustion seeping through his bones, the smell of pastries wafting through the air and the warmth of the padded seats comforting his aching limbs.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Wilbur stands up from his chair, alarmed, the pen on his hand dropping to the floor.

"The usual." He replies, collapsing further on the comforts of the padded chairs, sighing in relief.

Wilbur darts his eyes to the window to look at the figure crossing the road. "Who was that?" He asks again.

For some reason, Techno finds himself smiling softly at the ceiling.

"A friend."