𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟙𝟘| ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕊𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕𝕤

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death, knives, a kind-of panic attack, bad memories, generally angst, swears 

George looked away when Dream nodded. He wasn't sure he wanted to believe it. Honestly? He didn't think he would ever see Dream again, much less talk to him, or shoot a guy in the face with his help. Funny how fate twists that way. 

 "Sooo... You're Dream, the top hero, super powerful, and gay for George?" Sapnap commented, casually scooping all the money the four men had lost before they, y'know, died and all that jazz. Both the hero and villain turned scarlet at him, Dream choking on his drink (but not denying it) and George suddenly finding his cards very interesting. 

 "Uh— Sapnap was it? I, uh, yeah, that's me." He seemed to have forgotten how to speak English. Sapnap gave George a knowing look, along with a wink, while George flipped him off. "You... You two work for Necro-Sin?" 

 "Mention that name one more time and you die." Sapnap had a knife at his throat faster than anyone could keep up with, the tip a hair away from drawing blood. Dream stiffened, but didn't panic, just politely guided his hand away. 

 "Noted." 

"Why are you here?" 

 "I... have a proposition for you." Sapnap scoffed, flicking a chip at him that he caught immediately. George tilted his head. 

 "Like what?" 

 ﹥ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩ ⋆ ♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙ˊˎ﹤ 

"Good morning Darryl." 

 "... Morning, Zak." They left it at that for a little while. Darryl was debating what to say, what would soften it a little, what wouldn't be such a punch to the gut. He wasn't finding the words to say. Zak, on the other hand, was letting himself sink into the silence, letting it pull him like a giant, star-speckled hand, so deep in that he didn't need to think anymore. His eyes were closed, but he was more awake than ever. Darryl sighed. 

 "I am a villain. I won't deny it, there's no point. And, yes, I was that person singing." Zak hummed to the lullaby again, thrumming his fingers on the desk off-beat. "I work for a group of them. You've fought against them a couple times, it's been on the news. I- I can't tell you anything more. Sorry." He finished awkwardly, heartbeat in his ears louder than anything else.

 "Have you ever heard of a hero called Philza?" Zak commented abruptly. Darryl furrowed his eyebrow, wracking his brain to remember. He didn't. Zak continued like he already knew. "He worked in the really dangerous neighbourhood by Sietlett Street. Longest to be a hero and not get hurt. Almost died last month."A frown tugged at Darryl's mouth. Zak played with a pencil, twirling it between his fingers. "He survived, obviously. Another hero named Innit also got hurt last month. That guy's only 16. Was in the hospital for days. Do you know who did that?" 

 He could guess. But he didn't want to. 

 "Villains. Which group?" His voice was devoid of warmth, hard like a brick wall. Zak broke the pencil. "Guess, Darryl. Guess." 

 "... It was them." Zak laughed mirthlessly, sounding like it was echoing in an abandoned church, a hollow and empty sound. Darryl looked at his hands. They had a sheen from nervous sweat, and a couple of bandages, but they still didn't look evil. They didn't look like they hurt anyone... but they could. And most likely would. 

"You mean, the people you work for now? Yes. That leader, the one with the pig head, he used to be a hero. Used to be Innit's hero. That 'angel', with the wings? A government worker. Fucking— Georgenotfound?! He was a police officer! I worked with him before he went rogue! Before I met you again!" Darryl's heart hit the ground like a dropped ice cream cone, melting all over the pavement. He couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything to say even if he could, couldn't stop his chest from collapsing in on itself like a folding chair. "And now you went rogue too! And you work for the same guy who almost killed A6d! What am I supposed to do, Darryl? What am I supposed to think?" He broke off, yelling so loud the phone was crackling. It slipped through Darryl's fingers, Zak's voice still audible from the small speaker. 

Each breath was a struggle. His throat felt as if he had swallowed one of his throwing knives. His entire body shook like a leaf just barely holding on to a branch. Darryl tried to pick up the phone again, vision so blurred it looked like he was seeing through a foggy pane of glass, hand missing twice before he felt the screen. Zak was still rambling, less angry than sad- no, not sad, miserable. Each word sounded as if he was forcing it out, just to get it off his chest. "Zak..."

"You know what, no. No, Darryl, I shouldn't even be talking to you. I should be calling the police. But I'm not going to. Because, even if I don't want to admit it, I still like you." A heartbreaking warmth flooded Darryl. He liked him. And he wasn't going to tell the police. The sky came crashing down when Zak didn't stop there. "I still like you. Even though you're a villain. Even though you've changed sides and are never coming back. What happened? What kind of fucked up world is this? Oh, who cares. Goodbye, Darryl. May I never see you again." 

And then the line went dark.