𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦?! | 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟑𝟎. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝?

He was next to you when you woke up, already awake and typing on a laptop. Seeing you, he shut it and slid it to the side.

"'Morning."

"It's–" your hand scrambled for the phone–"4pm."

"It's always morning somewhere," he grinned.

"And the sun will never set on your cheesiness."

You had him there, and the ensuing silence confirmed it.

He cleared his throat. "So. How are you feeling?"

You blinked–he'd never asked you like that before. But then, things were different now, and your heart overflowed with warmth.

"Fine–better than fine." A giddy flush entered your cheeks. You could feel liquid sunlight rising and filling you to your fingertips.

"Yeah." He laughed, taking your hand. "Me too."

His hand was warm and dry and dwarfed yours, all long fingers and feather-thin bones. This hand was yours, you realized–to hold, for as long as you knew; maybe the rest of your life. Late afternoon rays threaded between the blinds, and the mattress was so soft underneath you and Clay was by your side. The feeling took away your words and beaded at your lash line, and you sat with each other for a few moments: you, him, and your shared happiness.

Once again, he broke the silence. "[Name], will you forgive me?"

You twisted around and stared. "I already did. If I hadn't, do you think I would've–? Forget it. Don't let it hurt you anymore, okay?"

He coughed. "Yeah. Let's play Minecraft."

[Username] has made the advancement [Free the End].

The Ender Dragon exploded in shower of magenta rays as Clay's avatar bounced over the cratered moonscape in celebration. A true gentleman, he'd let you deal the last hit and take the advancement. You moved to close the computer.

"[Name], jump in the portal!"

"What? I already know what the end credits look like."

"Just do it."

You did.

On the familiar dirt backdrop, teal and green words scrolled up at you.

I see the player you mean.

[Name]?

Where did that come from? You hadn't given Mojang your real name. This was why the world needed data privacy, you thought.

Yes. Take care. She has reached a higher level now. She can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. She thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. She played well. She did not give up.

She is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how she chooses to imagine many things, when she is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

But misinterpreted, they can hurt people.

You frowned. "Clay, it doesn't go like this. Is this an Easter egg?"

Arms wrapped around you from behind. "An Easter egg custom-created by yours truly," he said, and you could hear his grin in every word.

"You're mine?"