Day 4 - Younger Selves

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Nightmare picked up an old photo, his hand shaking. It was of him and Dream, back when the tree was still standing and life was good.

He doesn't remember who took the photo or why he still had it. It was just sitting on top of a box in the attic, dust coating the top of it.

The photo was in black and white, you could barely see his or Dream's faces, but he knew Dream was smiling.

Dream was always happy around Nightmare. Even if he was trying to kill him.

And Nightmare was happy with Dream.

He was so young. He didn't understand how much he had until he lost it.

Nightmare slammed his fist against his desk, letting out a shaky breath. He was so stupid. If he had just talked to Dream about how he was feeling all those years ago none of this wouldn't have happened.

They would still be together.

They would still be happy.

Now he would never have that.

He would never have that again.

Dream was gone.

When Nightmare was young he thought something was missing inside of him. Like a hole in his heart.

Now there truly was a hole.

He cared about Dream. He didn't know it then. But he did now.

But it's too late.

It's too late to tell Dream that he loved him.

It's too late to tell Dream that he cared about him.

It's too late.

It's far too late.

Dream is gone.

-🖤-💛-🏳️‍🌈-💛-🖤-

This one isn't the greatest and I'm so sorry about that.

Tried something different I guess.

-Fallen

267 Words

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