Sleepy Buddies [REWRITE] //Dreambur

Chapter 6- Manhunt

Dream dumped more gasoline on the fire, feeling the flames whoosh and watching the colors brighten. The warmth soaked through his clothing and brushed against his skin, making him stumble back. Before that night, Dream never understood why people said fire could soak through clothing. That's what water, the exact opposite of fire, did. But the more time he spent in front of this burning warehouse, the more he understood. He could feel the weight of its warmth, the way it bypassed fabric and heated him from the outside in.

"You're right, this is beautiful," Dream muttered from behind his mask, dropping the empty gasoline can on the ground. He heard a growingly familiar chuckle from behind him and the heavy weight of a hand fell on his shoulder.

"See, I was right," Wilbur said smugly. His voice rang through the air, battling only with the crackling of the fire. Dream couldn't help but smile, Wilbur's voice and mannerisms were so odd, yet they managed to be comforting and sweet.

"Wow, someone's cocky," Dream teased, nudging him. Wilbur snickered and leaned on his shoulder, his eyes glued to the fire. Dream risked a look to the side and was rewarded with bright eyes perfectly reflecting the flames. They danced in Wilbur's pupils, making him look ethereal and unreal. He flushed a little and looked ahead of him again, extremely grateful for his mask.

"Something you will come to learn is that I am usually wrong, but never about arson."

"Okay chill dirty crime boy, save some bravado for the rest of us."

Wilbur chuckled lightly, throwing his arm over both of Dream's shoulders now. Dream leaned into him, finding his warmth more comforting than the flames. Wilbur was steady and confident whereas the fire was untamed and free. Wilbur would protect and the fire would attack. It was a complex balancing act and Dream was caught off guard by it. It was poetic in a sense, and a small puzzle piece of Wilbur fell into place. The whole thing was nearly complete, but something was missing. Something important.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

Dream hummed and shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

"Well it's obviously something, you're being somewhat quiet." Dream elbowed him and Wilbur doubled over, wheezing and laughing. "Okay that- that was deserved. But honestly, what is going on behind that mask?"

Wilbur's other hand reached over, his fingers hooking the chin of the mask but not moving. He looked to Dream for permission and his heart stuttered guiltily at the kindness of it. He managed a nod and Wilbur's face lit up as he pulled the cardboard off his face.

"There you are," he cheered, making Dream laugh. "So, what's going on in that weird brain if yours?"

"Just wondering if we were gonna light anything else on fire, that's all," Dream lied. Well, half lied. He loved the rush of lighting the match, knowing the destruction at his fingertips could be catastrophic. The way the gasoline smelled, sharp and thick in the nighttime air. He adored the fire itself, the curl of each individual flame finding new fuel.

"Would you want to stop now? It's probably been a while since you've slept."

"It has, but not a chance."

Wilbur gave him a surprised look that made Dream feel like something was rushing through him. The fire lit up in his glasses when it wasn't dancing in his eyes and it illuminated every dip and curve in his face and neck. Dream wanted to trace his jawline with a light finger and drag it down his neck.

There was a beat of silence, neither really knowing what to say. Dream was content to just stare at Wilbur and memorize his face, but Wilbur never stayed still or silent.