The World Below [DNF]

Chapter 27: New year, new me

Dream POV

Dream crashed right after he stepped inside the apartment, he didn't even manage to get to the sofa. He collapsed with his back against the front door and removed the mask. Everything about his current situation felt wrong. It was to be expected that he'd meet someone that he'd recognize, but not his entire former friend group! 

And then to top it all off, the person that he'd grieved for five years, turning out to be alive. 

This was the reason that he didn't want to come back, it stirred up so many emotions. They'd all stayed in touch, Sapnap and Karl seemed to be a couple and they all appeared to be involved in something that Dream was sent to destroy. Then there was George. Dream drove his head against the door in frustration. George was involved as well. His head was a mess. He'd no idea on how to proceed.

The fight had not really gone as planned. His arm was going to take a good while to return to its former shape, but it appeared as though that the knife hadn't hit any major nerves or caused anything that would be a problem in the long run. He moved his fingers and tried lifting his arm to make sure that all his functions remained.

It wasn't as if he hadn't been stabbed before, it was to be expected when you worked in this field. However, it hurt just as bad every time. The thing that made it worse was the phycological factor connected to it. The pain in itself wasn't unbearable, but every time Dream would recall the moment when the blade pierced through his arm, the pain would feel ten times worse. It felt as if it was still stuck in his skin and every movement made it cut deeper into his arm.

Yeah, the mental part of it all was the worst. The intrusive thoughts were much more difficult to handle than the actual pain.

He groaned when he forced himself off the ground. Every muscle existing protested but it wasn't like he could continue sitting on the floor for the entire night. He stumbled into the bathroom, removed the fingerless gloves and gripped the sink to keep himself steady. The knuckles were a colorful contrast against the white sink. They were definitely bruised from the fight. He remembered how his fist flashed with pain as it had collied with that awful pig mask. He honestly couldn't even tell if the mask was the only thing that broke. All the small bones in his hands tended to break from time to time when he got involved in fights.

 After all this time, Dream thought that he knew better than to just straight up hit someone with his fist. The odds of hurting your opponent were about as high as the odds of you accidently hurting yourself. Especially if you threw the punch incorrectly and even more if your chosen target was a mask made out of thick fucking bones.

He did a quick examination of his hand and concluded that it, thankfully, seemed to just be bruised. With great agony, he managed to remove his shirt. Some colorful bruises decorated his torso, but again, nothing major. 

The most obvious injury was his stitched-up arm. He carefully unraveled the bandage to study the cut. George had done a good job. It could've been done by a professional. The skin around the wound was irritated, which was to be expected, but it looked fine otherwise. It would probably cause a faint scar, but Dream couldn't care less. He had tons of scars. 

One of the more noticeable ones, was the scar that covered the left side of his face. It was gift from another knife fight. The blade had fortunately missed his eye, but the scar ran just underneath his eyes, down his cheek and over his lips. 

He couldn't help but wonder if George still would find him beautiful. He knew that the "old" George wouldn't have care. However, this current version wasn't the same person that Dream once knew. 

He sighed. It was a superficial thought and completely irrelevant. Dream wasn't 'Clay' anymore and it wasn't like George would ever see his face again. They were both different people now, whose paths were bound to part once again in a few months.

Dream ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The one person that he thought he'd lost was back again. 

Well, at least partially. 

But there's no way that it would end well.

It was late but Dream felt the need to take a shower and wash away the blood and sweat from the fight. 

The shower didn't disappoint in mediocracy. The hot water ran out after about three minutes. He missed his own shower already and just by the look of it, he knew that the bed wouldn't be that impressive either.

He kept the same pants but switched to a shirt that was actually intact. It was close to 2 am, but despite being completely drained of energy, sleeping seemed impossible. There wasn't much else to do except mindlessly scroll through the TV-channels. That creepy smiley-mask laid on coffee table in front of him. 

Why would Wilbur choose that awful design? 

Dave, or rather, Techno had worn a mask as well. It didn't seem practical, but he guessed that it served the purpose of creating a character. To create a persona that made it possible to distance yourself from your actions. 

Much like Dream had done when he stopped going by his legal name. It was a self-defense mechanism to stop himself from being pulled down by the bad things he had to do during his missions. Because it wasn't 'him' that did all of this, it was 'Dream'. 

As silly as it might sound, but that was how he survived. That's how he was able to handle a job that often included hurting others. It had also been a way to move on from his past, which was rather ironic now. 'Dream' became his shield, his mental mask against the world, because Clay would never have been able to handle this.

He guessed that it was the reason why his old friends went by so weird names now. Of course, it also protected their identity. But maybe he wasn't the only one who needed that mental wall against reality. He wondered if George still went by his name or if he'd done the same as the rest of them and created a new persona. 

Something in his mind caused him to remember the knife at his ankle. 

George's knife. 

He unstrapped it and pulled it out of the holster to study it. Call him a lovesick fool, but everything made his mind trail back to the resurrected brunette.

The walls were already in bad shape, so Dream stood up and threw the knife at one of them. It landed nearly exactly where he wanted. Then it hit him that a similar knife had been the one to dig into Techno's arm and stopping him from sending Dream straight to the afterlife. Now when he knew how difficult it was to throw a knife, it was impressive to think that someone managed to aim so precise. He was convinced that it only existed one person that could've done it. Dream went to retrieve the knife and felt himself smiling slightly. At least one part of George remained the same.

A loud bang caused Dream to jump. He put the knife away and reached for the mask out of reflex. The front door broke the second he'd managed to put the mask back on.

Sapnap walked in, followed by four masked men.

"Sorry to disturb you, Dreamy-boy, but you're gonna have to come with me." Sapnap said, sounding nearly apologetic.

Dream was in no shape to take down five armed men. Also, hurting his old friend would be something that not even his 'Dream'-persona could stop from leading to his downfall. This was a really shitty situation was his final conclusion.

"Sorry again, Dreamy-boy." Was the last thing he remembered before a cloth with assumable chloroform was covering his airways. He gave it one chance at fighting back, but it was of no use, so he accepted the darkness.