𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧

— aristocrats —

— tip your hats —

— and break your mothers' hearts —

i might have a discord server 👉👈

Sapnap was passed out on the pavement. He looked oddly similar to a boy Skeppy knew in College after he'd gotten shitfaced drunk and just dropped on the kitchen floor. That had been a really weird day. So had this.

Bad had worry carved into his face, mouth pulled into a frown and eyebrows knitted together. Concern was evident by every small part of his body language; the quick fidgets, the eyes scrunching closed, the shuffling of feet like he didn't know how to stay in one place. Skeppy laced his fingers with the brunette's and tried to give him a reassuring look. It helped more than Bad cared to admit, he squeezed Skeppy's hand and mustered an amused half-smile. Skeppy's heart decided that then was a good time to explode.

Bad kicked his feet aimlessly. "What do we do now?" It was a vulnerable question. His voice was raw, fear and hurt lacing the edges. Skeppy didn't know; that was the awful truth. He didn't. What do they do now? He wasn't sure Bad had the energy to do anything other than stand with him, but what did he know about Bad now?

"I..." he paused, rethinking his answer. Bad stared at him with his wide, achingly hopeful eyes, and Skeppy couldn't help but melt a little. "I think we can still do something."

"Like what?" Bad prodded, needing the reassurance of a plan that Skeppy didn't have yet. The chaos from other streets made the air seem cluttered, but it gave Skeppy the chance to mull their options over. He had just barely grasped at an idea when so,wine touched down on the pavement behind them—

Dream.

Skeppy looked at him with disbelief. His best friend. The number one hero. Who left him right after Bad did, when he needed him most. He laughed without mirth, steeling his face to be totally cold and emotionless. Dream didn't deserve his hurt; especially after if what Good said was true.

Dream stared at him like he was in disbelief he still existed. Bad stared at Dream like he wasn't sure to punch him or hug him. Skeppy was staring at the ground, pointedly not even glancing at the blonde's direction. He was too focused on a plan to worry about the drama Dream had started; they had a job to finish, then they could sort out whatever they fuck happened.

Bad spoke first, voice sharp and dripping with acid. Him angry was the last thing you wanted to see. "Where's George." The statement was meant to be a question, but he said it with a note of finalization, so Dream felt odd even responding.

"He's still in the tower." Bad knew what tower he meant instantly; Skeppy just assumed it was the Hero Council's one where he worked. Used to. He didn't know if they would hire him after he was helping villains, nor did he actually care.

With a grim frown pulling on Bad's features, he walked up to the ex-hero. Dream raised his hands like a surrender. Bad punched him, no claws, no powers, just his fist and Dream not making a move to stop him. He probably could've if he wanted to— but he didn't. He knew he deserved the anger, the distrust. Bad shook with either anger or tears; his back was turned and Skeppy couldn't tell. Blood had stained his shirt, the tear in his jackets showing the slashed skin. Skeppy forced his eyes away.

"Ouch." Both Skeppy and Bad glared at him until he couldn't look at them any longer, glowering angrily. Dream cleared his throat and rubbed at the purple bruise forming on his face. "So... I have a plan, and if it works (a.k.a. we win), we can talk?" If he had been more sure of whatever the hell he was pulling out of his hat, Skeppy might've been more on board.