𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦?! | 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟕. 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

You broke off a square, the crisp snap feeding your ears before the bittersweet treat fed your tastebuds. You sank into the couch cushions. Eighty five percent cacao–you cast a satisfied eye over the pile of bars to your side like a ruler surveying the wealth of their kingdom in stacks of luminous gold ingots.

"With my YouTube money, I can afford the good stuff." Clay materialized, holding the popcorn bowl.

You swiftly leaned forward, inserting the slab into his mouth. "Thank you. I'm very grateful." He made to speak before realizing his faculties were very limited at this time. It came out as an indignant mmf, and you laughed at the sight–if he was a schoolboy with soap jammed between his lips, you were the nun punishing him for his slander.

He set down the bowl none too gently. It rattled on the table, and with his hands freed, he finally removed the chocolate bar. Glaring, he lifted a speck of foil off his tongue. Oops. You probably should have peeled it first.

"Yes, I bet you're so grateful. Ready?"

"Wow, Dream, you're not gonna ask us?" Bad teased.

"I guess [Name] is the only one who matters to you..." Sapnap sighed.

Though quarantined and unable to meet in-person, you and the Dream Team were all gathered to celebrate the spookiest holiday through the joined forces of Netflix Party and Discord. Clay and Bad had pushed for The Nightmare before Christmas, but George and Sapnap were staunch advocates for Stranger Things. You were the deciding vote–Clay had once let slip that he scared easily, and you were going to capitalize on that knowledge in full. But as you voiced your support for the latter, you had forgotten to account for how you also had nerves with the strength of a soggy paper towel, a fact that was quickly reintroducing itself to your memory.

You screamed and Clay shouted as onscreen, a white-coat was torn down in a bloody splash by some unseen creature. Mixed in the digital chorus were George's, Sapnap's, and Bad's screeches, surprisingly high.

To your side, your viewing companion jostled your shoulder. "You chose this! It all came down to you! [Name], why would you do this to yourself?! And to me?!"

Patches poked her head out from behind the table, dressed in her pumpkin finery. She was the most festive of all of you, you thought, with you being too lazy to pull together a last-minute costume and Clay apparently dressing as a "responsible human." This consisted of him idly plugging his limited-time Halloween merch inside of his house, to nobody in particular. In other words, he was just as lazy as you and a cog in the consumerist system, to boot.

You tucked your knees to your chest, waiting for the next jumpscare. You and Clay, everyone else's virtual presence. Antfrost was away celebrating with his boyfriend. His boyfriend. Lights off for the true horror experience, the two of you were snuggled up on the couch under the same blanket. Wasn't this something couples did? You crossed your legs and scooted to the side to give him more space, muffling your thoughts with another handful of popcorn.

Your shoulders leapt as George's infernal scream pierced through your reverie. You thought that it was only a matter of time before instead of simply watching horror, he was hired to destroy fellow viewers' eardrums onscreen. Although to be fair, that was already how he made his income.

"George, what the honk?!"

Bad laughed. "Why're you screaming already? And you picked this," he groused. "We could've been watching cute elves and Halloween creatures, but nooo..."

You stared, transfixed, as the lights flashed menacingly and the wall undulated. Though you knew what was going to happen next, you couldn't look away. The Demogorgon's slimy figure began to emerge from the plaster wall, a demon birthed from another dimension, and you felt the climbing of your heart rate and your dread. You hugged yourself for comfort. Next to you, Clay's face was contorted and pale. His body was completely rigid. Then, he lunged forward and tapped the pause button.

The call erupted into protests.

"Why'd you pause it?!"

"It was just getting good!"

Personally, you were flooded with relief. Clay had taken the bullet for you; now any second now, the social shaming would–

"–Ooh, is wittle Dream scared?"

–Yep, there it was.

"I'm not scared!" He retorted. "It's–uh–it's late. It's November 1st where you are, isn't it, George? Let's sing him Happy Birthday."

"Dream, it's been November 1st in England for 4 hours now."

"You're scared, aren't you?"

"I'm not scared! It's just a movie. A dumb, dumb movie."

"You're totally scared."

You watched the proceedings with a little guilt and another square of chocolate.

"George, get out the cake I ordered you." Clay left his seat to turn on the lights. "Sapnap, let's sing, count us in!"

"Guys, wait!" His chair creaked and you heard him strike a match. You smiled, imagining a solitary George, now 24, also smiling in front of a frosted lump with a candle that was probably blue.

You joined in on the virtual cacophony. Clay was half a beat behind, and you were convinced the five of you had all managed to pick a unique key. With audio lag, this possibly took the rare prize of the worst rendition of "Happy Birthday" that you'd ever participated in.

The focal point of this terrible chorus and a retiring guy by nature, you felt a flood of sympathy for George.

"Thanks, everyone. That was... good."

"Make a wish!" Someone started clapping, and the call bubbled with celebratory voices.

From the Birthday Boy, you heard a gush of air–slowly at first, and then in a more persistent stream as you imagined the flame thousands of miles away, resisting its extinguishment.

"But don't tell us," Bad cautioned. "Otherwise, that's bad luck and it won't–" Just then, the apartment lights flickered and Bad's voice distorted, plummeting a full octave. The lights gave out with a hum. Now in the dark, the audio glitched into incomprehensible buzzes for a terrifying moment before Discord cut out.

There was a beat of stunned silence as you and Clay processed your new situation.

"Bad luck."

You stared straight in front of you. "This is a horror movie. We're gonna die."

"Yep."

(1060 words)

A/N: a short chapter to precede more chapters in not-too-long now! 

it would've been lots of fun to have gotten this chapter out... around the time these events were actually happening... oops

thank you so much for all your patience! procrastination-guilt turned into more procrastination turned into a mini crisis in which i realized i had only the vaguest plans for how i wanted the rest of the story to go–think that's getting figured out, though.

looking forward to writing more directed and inspired chapters. hope y'all are having festive and safe times this season.