Ignore the title. I have no idea what to call this, but it has been Untitled Part 74 since it started, and it will stay that way. If I make a sequel, you had better bet it'll be called Untitled Part 74 Part 2 u^u

Anyway

Graphic descriptions of violence? Fundy being overworked and treated like sh*t? Graphic descriptions of what I think MC zombies should look like? Guilt and depression and panic attacks? Pog

Seriously though, there are several TWs for this one-shot, such as the following: Anxiety, depression, overexertion, going without eating, VERY graphic violence (there is a warning before the paragraph though so you can skip it), blood, bruising, broken bones, being taken for granted, fighting, panicking, cursing, also Fundy is indeed trans in this but it's not part of the story very much, it's merely mentioned

There is. Absolutely no timeline for when this is happening. But Dream never participated in the Manburg - Pogtopia war okay, he and some other characters looked at the drama and just absolutely left alright,

Also! Lots of headcanons, so if something isn't exactly completely the same as it is in canon, then just. Please don't question it (I may or may not have invented a dark oak forest that surrounds one side of L'Manburg haha)

As usual, Fundy had fucked up.

He didn't even know what he had done that time, but Tommy and Tubbo were staring at him with mutual expressions of vague disappointment, making him want to slink away in shame. He settled for wilting slightly, his shoulders slumping and his gaze flickering to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, trying not to yawn. When was the last time he had slept? He was always so busy with paperwork and... everything else. What was everything else again? His eyes stung like dry paper and he blinked several times, trying to clear his vision.

Tommy slipped him a glare, and Fundy nearly flinched. Nearly. He had grown accustomed to the burning stares, the way that people avoided him whenever they could. All he could feel was numb at this point, and he met Tommy's gaze with a kind of exhausted pleading. "I'll fix it if you want me to, really. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Tubbo said, his voice slicing into Fundy like a set of knives. Fundy willingly let nerves flood into his chest, almost grateful for the rush of adrenaline turning his cheeks red. Tubbo drummed his fingers on his polished chair, folding one leg over the other and giving Fundy a scathing stare. "All you've done for the past few days is ignore your work. You're an even bigger slacker than you were when you started. I don't understand why you always have to do this, Fundy."

Fundy bowed his head, accepting the words that were thrown at him. He just nodded.

Over the past couple of days, over the past week even, Tubbo and Tommy had scolded him more and more for his mistakes. Fundy didn't care. He knew he deserved it. But he just didn't know how he kept making mistakes. He didn't even remember what he had done, he didn't remember what he was supposed to do. He hadn't slept in... was it weeks? His stomach ached horribly, Fundy had mostly given up eating after the first few days of puking it all back up. He didn't care anymore. Was he supposed to care? He was too tired to care.

His amber eyes, dulled and worn, stared up at the president of L'manburg. He had heard Tubbo's eyes described as though someone had taken the sky and made it into candy, sweet and open, but all Fundy could see were closed doors, icy eyes made for icier stares. He rubbed at his neck, remembering through a kind of haze that he had several bruises on his throat after he had slipped while trying to run to the office, but he knew that Tubbo didn't care. He hadn't noticed the way that Fundy's eyes had dulled to a dark brown, the way that more and more often he just... didn't talk.

Tubbo scoffed. "Just go. Go anywhere. I don't care. But don't come back unless you're ready to actually carry your weight." His blue eyes flicked to the doorway, and Fundy took that as his cue to leave.

He stood up and nodded at his boss. "Thank you."

"No, no," Tubbo muttered, already pulling another set of paperwork from a stack. "Just get."

---

Fundy decided to take a walk. There was no way that he could fuck up a walk, right?

He pulled his boots on, his eyes flickering over the mail he had gotten that day. It was mostly just business letters and the occasional scam-- nobody ever sent letters to him anymore, unless they were asking for something-- which was fine! Fundy was there to help. That was what he was good at. If he was good at anything. 

A walk. A walk will do me good. 

Sighing, he pushed his hat over his messy curls and shoved the mail to the side with his foot, stepping outside. 

The sky had darkened to a blooming kind of purple, evening stars peeking over the edges of white clouds as though shy. The sun was already gone, abandoning the sky to the indigo sea of twilight, and the moon shone like a beacon of light. Deep, somewhere in the remnants of his fuzzy mind, Fundy barely registered that mobs would probably be spawning soon. That he was walking into a dark oak forest with no weapons and no armour, with a collection of fewer than three hours of sleep over the past two weeks, and his head more full with dust bunnies than actual thoughts.

He stepped lazily through the trees, barely avoiding the hefty trunks in his fogged-up state. Pressing a hand to his head, he winced as a sharp ripple of pain tore through his mind, and he swallowed back the urge to let out a faint cry. How pathetic was he? He had survived worse. He could survive worse.

Twilight had ripened, fog enveloping the dark forest like some kind of mystical mist. How long had he been walking, again? Should he be heading back to his house? He knew that he probably should, but another, more persistent voice in his mind told him to keep walking. Maybe if he walked long enough, they would notice that he was gone. Fundy almost chuckled to himself at that; wouldn't that be funny? Tubbo, Tommy, anyone in L'Manburg actually caring that he was gone?

There was no way, no way at all. Simply impossible. It had been all his fault that everything had happened, though Fundy wasn't exactly sure how it was. He had been told that so often, seen the expressions on Ranboo and Puffy's faces too many times, heard the whispers and the rumours over and over again, and his heart thrummed with the painful certainty that time and time again, it was him that was the problem. He that always got everything wrong. He that deserved the ridicule and the taunting, sharp laughter, the obvious disgust and these dark feelings.

He leaned against a tree, somehow already panting for breath. Fundy blinked several times, trying to clear his head. Why am I like this?

Scorn, hatred, rage. Emotions he knew well. Not from experience, but from seeing them carved deep into someone else's expression. Especially when they were looking at him. 

Fundy had learned to look for the little things. He knew how to gauge someone's emotions well enough. Navigating his way through life as a mistake hadn't been easy, but he thought he handled it pretty well, considering he always managed to get everything wrong.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and fumbled for a handhold on the bark of a tree, trying to keep himself from collapsing. Shudders travelled up and down his back, the damp cold of the forest slicing right through his jacket, right through his binder. He closed his eyes, letting the waves of cold wash over him.

Fundy opened his eyes again. The world was blurred at the edges, which probably wasn't good. He swayed several times, back and forth, like a tree branch in the wind, then shook himself and kept walking. He knew that the others hated him. He knew that they had needed a scapegoat for everything that had happened, and why not him? He had been at the centre of each conflict, after all. He didn't mind. He thought of himself as the problem anyway.

He obviously couldn't tell them that, though. He would just be fishing for pity, and where would that get him? He'd be manipulating them. Fundy would be just as bad as Schlatt if he did that.

At that thought, a shudder of fear ran through Fundy's chest and his heart rate jumped, causing him to gasp and clutch at his chest. He bunched the grey fabric of his shirt in a fist, coughing hard and almost doubling over at the fear.

He didn't want to be manipulative. He didn't want to be that person. What could he say? How could he be honest? How could he make sure they didn't feel guilty? They shouldn't feel guilty. They haven't done anything. I've done everything.

He shook the thought from his mind and kept walking, nausea scraping out a heavy pit in his stomach. 

Fundy didn't even notice when the first arrow struck right through his chest, ripping the first hole in his jacket. He did notice the feeling of hot blood weeping through his shirt and looked down, tilting his head to a curious angle. The pain struck him right after, the splintered arrow shaft sticking crookedly out of his black jacket, bloodstains blossoming through the light grey shirt. His mouth opened and then closed.

Oh, I'm bleeding, was the last thought Fundy had before he fainted.

Bad was walking through the forest.

He hummed as he walked, glancing around for any sign of mobs that usually spawned in the forest even during the daytime. In his hands, he was holding a woven basket overflowing with plump red berries, tart and sweet and perfectly ripe in summer, which was when they appeared underneath the dark oak trees.

A low moaning came from nearby and he turned swiftly, pulling a sword out to greet the zombie when it came.

Shambling through the undergrowth, a figure with no eyes and a gummy mouth emerged. Its hands were outstretched, and the once-sun-tanned skin was covered in glistening bruises. Instead of eyes, the empty sockets were filled with black ooze, the tar-like substance weeping from the empty holes and dripping lazily like tears down its cheeks. The mouth smiled as it saw Bad, filled with a few tiny fangs and blackened gums.

Bad narrowed his eyes at it and ran his sword through the zombie, watching its body stumble as it took the full brunt of his sword. It wasn't a very fast zombie, stumbling over loose ground and rotting hands moving slowly to grasp Bad's neck. He dodged and gave it a quick blow to the back. Black blood spilt from the wound and covered his sword, sticky and dark.

Wiping off his sword with a sound of disgust, he shook his hands off in case any of the zombie blood had gotten on them. When he glanced down at the zombie's decaying body, he noticed something curious.

Smudges of red blood were smeared across the still-twitching fingers, tiny streaks of blood dripping from the zombie's mouth as it groaned. Bad felt a small clench of worry in his chest, realizing that the zombie had killed-- or at least hurt-- someone recently.

He looked around, putting the sword away and picking up the basket of berries again. Cautiously, he moved around the forest ground, padding over damp ground and under the dark undergrowth.

A few minutes later, he found the broken body of a boy.

It was, in full honesty, probably the worst sight he had ever seen. (Warning! Graphic violence! Skip the next paragraph :])

The boy was lying in a puddle of his own blood, completely still, eyes only half-closed and blood trailing little red footprints out of his mouth. His black jacket was ripped at the seams and oozing with congealed blood, as though it had been used as a towel to mop up after a particularly messy murder. His shirt had probably been grey at one point, but now it was completely red, and gaping holes had been ripped through the thin fabric, exposing deep wounds that dug into his chest, caked with mud and framed with blooming bruises the colour of vomit.

(Okay you're good now. Summary: Fundy hurt. Bleed much)

Bad screamed, immediately dropping the basket of berries he had been collecting.

"Holy muffins, what the-- Skeppy! Skeppy, get over here right now!" His voice was muffled, as he had clapped a hand over his mouth so he didn't suddenly puke. Nausea had slapped him across the face and he was fighting the urge to vomit in the nearby bushes, trying to decide if he should run, start immediately crying, faint, or get help.

The minutes stretched out as Bad waited for Skeppy, too afraid to get any closer to the body and too nervous to run away. His hands tugged at his jacket, tight fists grabbing handfuls of fabric and squeezing hard. "Oh, oh, oh," Bad mumbled, his face paling. "Oh, God. Oh, God."

He didn't know if he should run away or check for a sign of life. He didn't think he could go near the body without puking, and he was already doing a not-great job at keeping his stomach from betraying him. Bad's gut roiled when he took a tentative step forward and accidentally stepped into the puddle of blood, which was less of a liquid and more of dark, oozing slime. He made a choked noise and quickly took a step back, tripping over a twig and landing on the ground, his hands scratching on the harsh surface of forest dirt.

Should he wait? Should he go? He had no idea what to do.

Luckily, Skeppy made the decision for him when he saw the body.

Skeppy had discarded his basket the moment he heard Bad calling, and as soon as he saw the gruesome sight laid out before him he froze. Slowly, he lifted the cyan mask off of his head, openly gaping at the blood-soaked boy.

"Shit," the diamond golem cursed, finally able to speak, and Bad was unable to correct him. His full attention was focused on the bloody fox boy in front of him, his chest heaving up and down with the amount of effort it took not to suddenly pass out. Skeppy crouched down next to the boy and put his fingers on the boy's throat, trying to find a pulse and blinking fast.

Bad was almost afraid to ask if the boy was alive. "Is he--" his voice was broken, snapped in half and weakly trailing off as Skeppy hesitated. Unable to form a coherent sentence, Bad let out a soft sob. "Oh my God."

Skeppy swallowed hard. "He's alive, but just barely." He lifted his hand from the boy's body, and Bad saw that it was already stained with scarlet blood.

The demon really thought he would pass out then, but instead more sobs filled his throat, and he collapsed to the ground, weeping. Skeppy was at his side in an instant, tracing comforting circles on his back and trying to act brave, but Bad could tell that his breathing was ragged and uneven. Adrenaline still ran through his veins, freezing cold and burning hot at the same time. "We have to get him help," he suddenly gasped, breaking through his tears.

A helpless expression crossed Skeppy's face. "I'm all for it, but how do we--"

Bad was already summoning his screen and shakily typing a message to the one person he knew would help. Skeppy buried his face in Bad's shoulder, still running his hands softly over the demon's shoulders, trying to get Bad's breathing to even out. Bad thanked him, appreciating the thought, but he didn't think that he would be able to stop hyperventilating anytime soon.

Dream, there's a boy lying here in a puddle of his own blood, I think he's going to die, what do I do, just come and help PLEASE

The message board flashed with a quick reply, Dream fast to respond as Bad had known he would be.

Where

In the woods outside L'Manburg, Bad replied, trying not to look at the mess of blood and ripped clothes in front of him. He swallowed. Come quickly, he begged.

Dream didn't bother with a long response-- thank God, thank God he wasted no time-- I'm there. keep him breathing

Bad closed the screen with a trembling hand and pulled Skeppy closer, wrapping him in a tight embrace and bursting out into another bout of sobs, his chest heaving up and down. "It's okay," Skeppy mumbled in a shell-shocked voice, gripping Bad's hand in his own, his eyes wide and expression almost numb out of pure shock. "It'll be okay."

Shaking his head, Bad tried to find comfort in the warmth of Skeppy's hug, his eyes filling with hot, salty tears even as he tried to smear them away. "H-how can you lie, how can you just-- just like that?!" he sobbed, his voice shaking so bad the words were almost unintelligible. "He's going to die and it's going to be our fault and we couldn't help him what if he dies because of me--"

Skeppy pressed a hand over Bad's mouth, muffling his voice. "Shh," he said quietly, lifting his hand from Bad's mouth when he thought that he wasn't going to immediately start blaming himself again. "Shh, it won't be your fault even if he does die. And Dream is coming. He'll be able to help, you know he will."

Bad gasped for air and was almost unable to find it. His chest felt too tight. And all of a sudden, it was too much. His mind smeared along the edges like a watercolour painting, his heart rate jumping several paces as numbness spread like a freezing-cold shock through his arms and chest.

He didn't register when he slumped into Skeppy's arms as his vision blurred to nothing, but he vaguely registered the sight of an ender pearl landing just a few spaces away from where he knelt.

Fundy awoke because his body decided not to kid itself. He wasn't going to die, what was the point of staying unconscious?

Blinding pain shot through him when he tried to move. But at least he could see. His mind felt a little clearer than when he had... when he had what? What had he done exactly? He tried to remember and winced as streaks of agonizing lightning struck through his memory. He coughed, hard and loud, and a trickle of blood slipped from his lips and onto... white covers? White sheets?

He quickly realized that he wasn't wearing his usual clothes. His grey shirt and jacket had been taken and replaced with light blue pyjamas, soft and comfortable, but swiftly making Fundy want to curl up and hide as he saw that his binder was gone. Someone had-- someone had what? Taken his fucking binder off? He shuddered. 

What had happened? All his thoughts seemed to have evaporated, falling through his fingers like waterlogged sand. Finally, he caught on a single memory, trying to gauge what had happened in the events that followed it.

Now get, Tubbo had said.

Tubbo had told him to go, hadn't he? And he had simply gone. Oh, god.

They were going to hate him. He needed to get back. He was going to be late. He was already pathetic and didn't turn in paperwork, what would they say when he was late to the meeting, too?

Panic shot through Fundy and he tried to sit up, but exhaustion and agony pulled him back down to the bed. Thoughts spiked like lightning through his head, which was suddenly much too clear, letting pain and terror wash through him like tidal waves at a beach. He choked out a futile sob, his hands and ears twitching. Every bit of him felt like shit. His head lolled to the side and he looked around him, seeing only whitewashed walls and a floral-patterned chair next to him. Where the hell was he?

A white door was in one corner. The walls looked as though they had been scrubbed with bleach, the faint scent of antiseptic only making Fundy's head blurrier. The floor was tiled, and there were several potted plants scattered around the room, though Fundy couldn't tell if they were fake or not. There was a single window, but it was shuttered, letting bars of pale morning light cascade over his face. 

Did someone... kidnap me? He shook the thought off with a huff of amusement. What kidnapper would have any use for him? He might have to explain to them that nobody liked him, so they wouldn't be able to get any ransom out of him. 

He lifted his hands gingerly, and white spots shone in his vision as shudders of pain burst up his wrists and arms. He gasped and whimpered at the pain, his chest heaving with the effort it took not to burst into tears. 

Blinking rapidly, Fundy turned his head to the side. No rope or handcuffs on his wrists, but bruises blossomed up and down his wrists and hands, turning his pale skin to an almost dark purple. 

Fundy let out a defeated sigh. Even blinking hurt. There was no way he was getting out of here. He turned his attention back to the door just as it peeked open, and a hidden face looked back at him.

A lopsided smile and eyes that were both disguised and too clear gazed into the room. 

Fundy choked back the urge to immediately flee, finding himself seized with terror. Dream. Dream was here.

And probably going to kill him.

He tried to get up, tried to run or something, but his legs and chest betrayed him, and as soon as he sat up, pain bloomed across his ribs. He let out a whine, the sound coming out scratchy and loud, too loud, and Dream's masked face snapped towards him. A soft gasp came from hidden lips, and Dream almost ran towards Fundy, kneeling by the bedside.

"Holy shit, you're awake," Dream sighed, and something like relief was spilt throughout his voice.

Fundy didn't know what to think. Had he died? Was this some really weird fever dream?

Sure, he had never actually met Dream before, but he had definitely heard the stories. About how Dream was ruthless, cold and cruel, calculating. How he'd run anyone through with his sword, Nightmare, without a second thought.

But the stories didn't match up with the boy in front of him, not the one who had almost tripped over his own two feet coming in the door, who had sounded oddly... relieved? To see Fundy?

Warm, hazelnut-brown curls flopped around the white mask, shoulder-length and slightly curly, tied messily up in a loose half-bun. Clover was threaded through his hair, and he wore an obviously well-loved lime green hoodie, ripped white jeans tucked into beige boots. He was substantially taller than Fundy but moved in a way that suggested he was still a playful child, a bounce in his step, a spark in the way he talked.

Was this really Dream? Fundy blinked up at him, confused.

"--Dream?" he mumbled, his voice feeling cracked and dry. "What...?"

The brunette didn't seem to hear Fundy, approaching the beside with an almost reverent expression. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in amazement. "I can't believe it," he murmured, kneeling next to the bed. "I thought you were dead, Fundy. Or, I thought you were gonna die, anyway."

Fundy frowned. "How do you know my name?"

Dream shrugged with one shoulder, curls coiling like shining liquid on his shoulder. "I keep an eye on everyone in the SMP. You more than most, actually. You, ah..." He coughed, a strange, almost embarrassed note entering his voice. "You're an interesting person. In the centre of a lot of conflicts. I watched you during the wars, you know. Spying for L'Manburg, a spy that nobody knew about? Genius, really. You did a great job." He hesitated. "Wilbur shouldn't have blamed you as he did."

At his father's name, Fundy winced, then immediately regretted it as spasms of pain rippled through his chest. He wheezed out a soft cry of pain, his hand flying to his chest, and Dream froze. "Oh, are you okay? Do you need another blanket, maybe, can I get you something to eat? You've been living off the IV for two days now, you must be starving, jeez."

"Two..." Fundy's voice trailed off, his heart pounding in his chest. He still wasn't sure if he should be running, but Dream hadn't immediately tried to murder him, and that was a definite plus. "How-- how long have I been--" his voice broke, turning scratchy and dry, making him cough.

Dream pulled a bottle of water out of nowhere and handed it to Fundy. "Here, drink." He saw Fundy's immediate hesitation to take it and laughed softly, pushing it towards the injured boy. "It's not poisoned, don't worry. I'm not a scary fiction monster, ooh, woooh, boo!" He sprang towards Fundy, hands curling into playful imitations of claws, and Fundy shrieked-- first with fear, and then with laughter.

The two dissolved into giggles. Fundy's laugh sounded coarse, at least to him, but Dream obviously couldn't judge; he sounded like a dying goose. It was the first time he'd laughed in months.

Fundy realized that he was laughing and the sound died in his throat. This was Dream, the one who everyone flinched at when he spoke, who made people shudder when they were talking about him. Fundy saw the anger and the fear in Tubbo's eyes when he talked about Dream-- and he knew it was genuine. He swallowed, his gaze flickering downward again.

Dream stopped laughing too, looking a bit hurt at Fundy's scared expression, but he shrugged again and put the bottle of water on the nearby table. "If you want it, it's there, 'kay?"

"Yeah." Fundy pulled the blanket up further over himself.

Dream reached over, smoothing Fundy's hair down, but froze when Fundy flinched back, fear immediately visible in his amber eyes. Dream quickly pulled his hand back, drawing away with a curious look of guilt. "Sorry, I guess you don't want me to. Um. Yeah, okay." He cleared his throat, his voice going gentler than Fundy had ever heard it.

"Bad and Skeppy found you in the woods. They contacted me and I've been taking care of you, for three days. The first day I didn't have you on any kind of medical equipment, I bandaged you up and watched you all night, but you took a sharp downward curve the next day. I've had you on IV for painkillers, food, and hydration ever since. Is it okay if I check your pulse, Fundy? I don't want to startle you at all."

Fundy's breath caught in his throat at Dream's low, comforting tone. It was gentle and soothing, certainly more gentle than Fundy knew he deserved. Nobody had ever talked to him with such a soft, kind tone before. Not even Wilbur, especially not any of his uncles, or Tubbo or Ranboo or anyone. He fought back the urge to latch onto Dream and sob into his chest, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Y-yeah, I guess," Fundy replied, the words feeling small.

Dream nodded and softly reached towards Fundy's throat, feeling for a pulse. His hand was warm, littered in the odd scars and calloused in places, but the touch was gentler than Fundy knew to believe.

"Your pulse is good," he said after a few moments, pulling his hand back. "Your body temperature is stable now. When we found you, you were so dehydrated your brain was barely working, and you kept fading in and out. You don't look like you've eaten anything in a week. You're exhausted and overworked, not to mention anaemic." He gave Fundy a look. "What the fuck is your life like?"

Fundy swallowed and shook his head. Should he be talking to Dream? He didn't know... but something in the soft way he spoke, the gentle way he moved, said that Fundy should trust him, that he could trust him. "I've been working for Tubbo, recently," he said softly, then panic dug cold claws of fear over him once again and he fought to sit upright, mouth dropping open.

It had been three days? Oh, God.

The meeting.

He was late. Oh God, he was going to be late, he wasn't going to be able to cover up for his mistakes this time. He was going to mess everything up, he had to get there, he had to go. A bolt of panic shot through his chest, adding to the pain already snapping at his heart, and he let out a terrified gasp. His thoughts blurred again, becoming stacatto and unreadable, terror mixing with guilt and blinding anxiety.

"Dream, let me up," he begged, trying to push him away with little success. He let out a loud sob, his voice splintering when he spoke. "Please, I have to go."

Startled, Dream laid a hand over Fundy, easily stopping him from getting up. "Your ribs are shattered, Fundy. You won't be able to walk anywhere for a while. At least, not without help, and I'm not going to help you when you obviously need rest."

"I have to go," Fundy babbled, the words spilling out of his mouth as tears had started to spill out of his eyes. "I have to go, there's a meeting today, I'm late already, oh my God--" He began to hyperventilate, terror overwhelming every other sense. "Oh my God, Tubbo's going to murder me." He started to cry.

Dream was apparently frozen from shock. Then his expression turned to anger, every muscle in his body going rigid. When he spoke, his words were carefully placed but knife-sharp. "Tubbo's been doing this to you? You've been overworking yourself for ages, going without sleep and food and water, because of what Tubbo wants?" His voice was dangerously soft.

Fundy sobbed openly, clinging to Dream's shirt. "They already hate me, what if I just fuck everything up all over again," he wept, his entire body trembling. "I can't do this, I have to do this, why can't I do this?!"

The server admin laid a hand on Fundy's back, tracing small circles over his shirt, trying to get him to calm down. "Hey, shh, I'll take care of it, I promise. I won't let Tubbo do anything to you. What's he done? How did he do this to you?" He hesitated, perhaps seeing how Fundy was in no state to listen, let alone answer. "Funds, shh, shh. You're okay. You're okay here, see? They're not here. You don't have to go. You don't have to do anything."

"No, no, I have to go," he cried, shaking his head over and over again. "I have to, I have to."

Dream pulled him into a hug, running his hands comfortingly through Fundy's hair. "No, you don't," he replied softly, but the words did little. "Hey, I told you I'll take care of it. Don't worry. Just stay here, okay? I have to leave, but I'll put Bad here to keep an eye on you." He bent down, gently smearing the tears away from Fundy's distressed expression.

Fundy tried to get up and nearly crumpled in half, his ribs feeling as though they were breaking all over again. He cried out in agony, nearly doubling over as pain shot through his chest and lungs, and Dream quickly helped him lay back down. "Stay here, please," Dream said, smoothing Fundy's hair out. "Shh, shh."

Taking deep gulping breaths, Fundy somehow managed to get his heart rate down to a reasonable level. He blinked the tears away, sniffling, his ears pressed back flat against his head. Dream wiped the remainder of the tear lines away from his cheeks, giving him an oddly gentle smile.

"You doing better?"

Fundy opened his mouth, found that he was unable to speak, and nodded. Dream's grin turned relieved. "Good. I've got to go if you're okay, but I'll be back, alright?"

Fundy gazed at Dream, obviously distressed, as the other boy began to leave the room.

"You're... going?" Fundy mumbled, reaching out and grabbing onto Dream's shirt sleeve. "Already?"

Dream gave him a gentle smile. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Bad will be here in the meantime. He's the one who found you, you know? He's awesome. Don't worry."

"At least take me with you," Fundy pleaded, tugging Dream back to his side. "Where are you going?"

During the last few minutes, Dream's mask had slipped enough that Fundy could see a slip of pale skin, exposing half of his mouth and a few freckles splashed along his lower cheek, so Fundy could see when Dream frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea," he murmured, tugging Fundy into another hug. Fundy buried his face in Dream's chest and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and thinking for-- what, the first time in weeks? His mind was blissfully clear, oh, but he had missed being able to think properly.

"You should stay," Dream said again, but Fundy was already committed.

Fundy shook his head again. "If you're going to talk to Tubbo, I'd like to come, too." He looked up and smiled softly, for what felt like the first time in months. He still felt the hot streaks of tearstains down the side of his cheeks, but panic and adrenaline had left his mind, leaving him with what felt like actual, coherent thought. He took a deep breath. "Actually, this isn't a question. I have a right to go where I want, don't I?" he tried to lift his head in an aloof, confident way, but pain struck his neck and he sucked in a sharp gasp, his hand flying to his bandaged throat.

Dream's frown deepened, his fingers drumming on the metal table next to Fundy. "I really don't think this is a good idea, Funds..."

"I don't care," Fundy insisted, his voice scratchy. He sounded whiney and pouting, his eyes filled with defiance. "I want to go."

The frown melted into a fond smile, one that Dream slipped easily into as though he had smiled at Fundy many times before. Dream reached out a gentle hand, briefly cupping Fundy's cheek in his hand, then letting it fall to his side again. An ender pearl appeared in his hand, shining with purple and black, and Dream took Fundy's arm in his other hand. "Stick right close by me, alright?"

Fundy barely had time to reply before Dream scooped him up in his arms, eliciting a well-earned shriek from the fox boy, trying to flail around, but Dream held him tight. A bright grin had appeared on Dream's face, slightly teasing and more than slightly pleased with himself. "I thought you wanted to come," he laughed. "This is so you don't accidentally break your ribs any more than they actually are."

"I don't-- I don't like it," Fundy protested grumpily, a bit breathless if he was being completely honest. He could hear Dream's heartbeat, the server admin's chest pressed up close against the side of his torso. Dream's arms were tight but not claustrophobically so, gentle while still being firm, and Fundy wasn't jostled at all when Dream walked carefully out of the room, shouldering the door open. They walked down a narrow hallway, Fundy still pouting to be let down, and Dream wheezing heartlessly at Fundy's embarrassment.

Dream pushed open a pair of glass doors and the two walked out into the open sunlight.

It struck Fundy all at once, the warm golden light pooling and soaking into him, warmth suddenly overwhelming him as though he had just drunk the most fulfilling cup of hot cocoa in the world. He gasped slightly, squinting in the sudden light, and couldn't hold back a gentle smile as the beauty of a new day crashed over him.

"Surprised to see the sun again?" Dream teased, looking down at Fundy's awestruck expression.

Fundy shook his head, lost for words. "I guess... I guess I was so busy with work I never got to see the sky so whole like this. There were always buildings in the way, or I was distracted with work or..." his words trailed off, his brown eyes sparkling into a million different shades of gold and amber. Dream grinned happily at Fundy's amazement. "It's so beautiful. Wouldn't you know, I used to go on picnics all the time in the surrounding forests. I'd seek out dark oak forests and find the clearing in the middle, or all these open flower fields, and I was so happy there. I'd take berries and some milk and a pumpkin pie and I'd sit there and I'd just... I'd just be. I'd just exist there, at that moment, and I felt so happy with everything. I still have collections of maps of all of those places, all of these beautiful clearings."

How had he gone from being so perfectly happy, so perfectly happy with himself, with how he lived, to... this? He felt suddenly too aware of himself, of every time his ear twitched, every breath that scraped painfully in his chest. What had he done to himself? Why had he fallen so far, so fast?

Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes and his smile slipped. Dream looked down at him, concern flashing through his expression. "Hey, you alright?"

Fundy sniffled, trying to rearrange his smile. "I just... I don't know. I guess I miss life before, um, before everything." I miss life before everybody hated me.

"You want to tell me what that everything is?" Dream murmured, a gentle smile on the small slip of mouth that Fundy could see. Fundy flinched and Dream gave him a patient nod. "We don't have to go right this instant, it's okay. You make a good point-- it's sunny today, I don't want to waste it." He squeezed Fundy gently. "You wanna talk?"

"I..." Fundy didn't know what to say. There was still the faint panic in the back of his head telling him to get to the meeting, to apologize to Tubbo and promise that he could do better, that he would do better, but... as much as terror still gripped his chest, he found that he didn't really want to anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that, no, he didn't want to apologize. He wanted them to apologize. He wanted to tell Dream why they should apologize.

He finally nodded a yes.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

While telling the story, Fundy was nestled up in Dream's arms, since he apparently couldn't be trusted to move around. This basically meant that they were more cuddling than Dream trying to keep his ribs aligned, but Fundy wasn't complaining. He could feel Dream's heartbeat behind him, a steady pulse that was more like the rhythm of a song than anything else. Dream's head was on his shoulder, his arms looped lazily around the fox's shoulders, his mask now half-off and fully revealing his mouth and nose.

They had gone back into the house for some water since it was summer and one could get easily dehydrated (especially for someone who hasn't drunk much water in two weeks, Dream was quick to remind Fundy), and it had morphed into snacks, which morphed into a snack basket to carry them, and now they were basically having a picnic. A red-and-white checkered blanket was spread out underneath them, a few bottles of water scattered around on it, and a picnic basket, ripe red apples and pieces of bread peeking out from under the wicker-woven top.

Fundy was finishing up the tale, munching on one of the apples as he did so. He kept trying to wave his hands-- he was a very visual speaker-- but as they were still covered in bruises, he kept accidentally flinching.

"And you know, I guess I knew somewhere in my mind that I hadn't done much-- well, really anything-- wrong. I mean, I was on L'Manburg's side from the beginning, right? Well, as a spy, and nobody knew I guess, but still. And then they were still treating me like a traitor. I just don't... I don't understand it, not really."

He sighed, taking the last bite of the apple. "And then right around a few months ago was when I stopped really taking care of myself. I'd go without sleep for days, weeks at a time, and I'd barely eat anything unless when I really, really had to. I didn't drink much, either. I don't know why, maybe the stress got to me. And maybe I thought someone would notice, someone would..." He paused. "Someone would care."

Dream nodded, his hand reaching for Fundy's and squeezing it gently (holding hands should be called hand hugs, fight me). "Someone should have cared," he said gently. "Did nobody notice?"

Fundy hesitated for a moment, leaning back against Dream's chest. His tail flopped to the side. "Um, well, I think Niki might have... noticed... something? She always did see how everyone was feeling. She never really... asked, though." He shook his head. "I mean, they might all have noticed, but not cared, you know?"

"And Tubbo?" Dream asked.

"Tubbo just hates me, Dream," Fundy chuckled softly. "In his and Tommy's eyes at least, I'm just a lazy employee who's always late and never talks. I've seen the way he looks at me, and I think he's either, um, scared of me? Yeah, it's weird, but he's either scared of me or he just plain hates me. Did you know he always hides his kid from me?"

Dream frowned. "He has a kid?"

Fundy nodded, shrugging in a way that tried to be casually disinterested. He tipped his head back, surveying the sky. "Mm. Michael. With Ranboo, wouldn't you know? But I've only ever seen the kid once, and never again. It's like they're scared that having a neglected childhood is contagious or something," he laughed, somewhat bitterly. "But yeah. I used to have so many friends, and now they're all... all... just gone. Just like poof!" He made an explosion with his hands and winced as pain lanced through his wrists. "Ow."

Pulling Fundy's arm gently back to rest in his lap, Dream gave him a soft smile. "Well, I'm here now. I can be your friend." He draped his arms around Fundy's shoulders again, resting his head on Fundy's shoulder.

"Better one than none, I guess," Fundy laughed. He threw the apple core at the ground.

"Litterer," Dream sang, tugging the word out slowly. He gave Fundy a pat on the head. "Go pick it up please."

Fundy rolled his eyes at the admin, shrugging with one shoulder. "It will literally despawn when we go far enough away, Dream," he reminded him, then sighed and struggled to bend over and pick it back up.

He tossed it up and down in his hand, glancing around at the clearing before his eyes landed in L'Manburg's direction, his expression turning sour. "Well, I guess we should go."

Dream gave him another of his gentle, concerned expressions, frowning gently. Or what Fundy thought were his gentle and concerned expressions-- he couldn't really see much of Dream's face, not really. "You really don't need to go if you don't want to, Funds," he said. "I don't want to see you hurt again."

"Thanks, but I really do need to come," Fundy said, leaning back against Dream's chest and taking a deep breath. "You know that I do."

"I do," Dream admitted, tucking a chocolate-warm curl behind his ear, a smile curving at his lips. "I knew you would say that. Still, never hurts to check, right? We should probably just tell Bad where we're going. Anything that you need, like a sword or a shield? I have your clothes in the house, sorry for... um, for changing you. I didn't know you might be sensitive about that kind of thing until it was too late. I would have asked sooner, but-- I didn't know when was the right time."

Fundy winced at that; there was no denying that he was downright uncomfortable without his binder. He had kept looking down at his chest as he talked, feeling self-conscious without it when he was pressed so closely to someone else. He nodded. "Yeah, I'd really like my binder back, please. I don't think I need a sword or anything, though."

"Sorry to say, your binder is pretty much ripped to shreds," Dream said apologetically. "There are so many holes ripped in it-- I tried to fix it, but it just wouldn't... well. Yeah. Um, but I think Bad has some binding tape-- sometimes we have to visit places where he'd get shit for being a demon, so he has to bind his wings to hide them. I'm sure he'd let you use it."

(A/N! Please don't get anything weird from Dream taking bloodstained clothes off of Fundy. I wouldn't have written it in at all, but there's really no way around having to undress someone to put bandages on them, and most of Fundy's injuries were on his chest and arms. Plus, it would have just been unrealistic to assume that Fundy, a trans boy, would have been perfectly comfortable with someone undressing him, even to save his life, which is why I included them talking about this. However, I can assure you that Dream did do it respectfully and there are no blushy 'oh my gosh he's undressed and asleep' moments, that's creepy as hell. It was medical care, Fundy would have died, don't make it fucking weird)

Fundy gave Dream a small smile, grateful for the apology. It still wasn't fine, not really, but the apology helped, and he supposed it would have been downright unhealthy to wear a binder for three days straight, especially with broken ribs. "Binding tape'll work, thanks."

Dream waved off the thank you, standing up and helping Fundy to do the same. "Don't thank me, an apology is the least I could do."

"Oh?" Fundy wobbled on his feet slightly, grimacing at how unsteady he was.

"Yeah. After all, I'm about to show you just how awesome I am by shouting at your boss." Dream grinned back at Fundy, reaching out a hand to steady the other boy. "You ready?"

Fundy took a deep breath and nodded, looking in the direction of L'Manburg. "I'd better be."

---

Back at L'Manburg...

Tubbo ran a hand through his hair, chewing at his lip anxiously.

He glanced around his office, a deep frown creasing his lips, his leg bobbing up and down as he looked every which way for Fundy, who had been supposed to bring him paperwork that day, or at least come to work. "God, where is he?" he muttered, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"Where's who?"

Tommy peeked his head through the front door, his messy hair flopping in his eyes as it always did. Tubbo made a dismissive motion, twitching irritably. "Fundy! He was supposed to be here today, but I guess he decided against it," he snapped. "Honestly. I can't believe him."

Shrugging, Tommy shouldered the door the rest of the way open and sat on Tubbo's desk, thumbing through the stack of paperwork already on the table. "Isn't it a weight off your mind, Tubbo? I mean, you've got all this to do already. And I can't help thinking there's been somethin' off about him lately." He frowned.

"Something off about him? What, do you mean more than usual?" Tubbo snorted. "He's been skipping over things for weeks now. He can't seem to do anything lately." He pulled the papers away from Tommy's grasp, sighing.

Tommy gave Tubbo a knowing look. "You sure you're alright? You haven't really been outside much for the past few weeks, either. Don't think I haven't noticed, I'm your best friend and it's kind of my job to notice such things." He paused, seeing Tubbo's scowl. "Ranboo and I built you a giant glass bee enclosure, with flowers and everything," he said gently. "Two weeks ago, don't you remember? You haven't visited it once. I know something's wrong, don't try to hide it from me."

Tubbo wilted slightly. "I know, I know I haven't been doing anything well lately, I'm sorry--"

"Don't even try to apologize," Tommy warned him playfully, putting a finger to Tubbo's lips and grinning. "It's not your fault, bee boy. You've been buried under all this work that's been popping up lately, huh?"

"I guess," Tubbo murmured.

Tommy paused for a moment and then reached over and promptly shoved the stack of papers off of the desk.

Tubbo gasped, leaping up from his chair as papers went everywhere. "Tommy!"

White paper with type saying 'sign here and 'deliver' flew into the air, then cascaded back down, slicing through the air like curved blades. Tommy laughed and jumped up from the desk, landing in the middle of the paper rain, twirling in a loop and snatching one of the papers out of the air. He put it on his head and gave Tubbo a silly, lopsided smile, then took a childish bow until his head almost brushed the floor.

"Come now Tubbo, I can tell when you need a laugh," Tommy smiled. "I'll make you smile when you need it." He kicked aside a few papers, walking to Tubbo, and brushed a document off of the president's shoulder.

Tubbo couldn't hold back a slight giggle. When Tommy wanted to make someone smile, he usually succeeded, and he was absolutely relentless in his methods. The two friends grinned at each other.

Tommy crumpled up a paper and threw it out of the window. He turned to face Tubbo, dusting his hands off with a self-satisfied smile. "Now why don't we find that troublemaker Fundy, hm?"

"Alright, alright," Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Let's go." He shot a smile over his shoulder at Tommy as he stepped outside of the room, pushing the door open.

Fundy's house was small, dug into the side of a hill on the outskirts of L'Manburg so only the door was visible. A doorway was made of dark logs, the door made completely of glass, and a few circular windows popping up along the sides of the hill. By all means, it looked quaint and small, but Tubbo knew from experience there were several layers and tunnels that dug deep into the earth, each room containing a different set of Fundy's (probably stolen) treasures.

Tubbo knocked on the door, tapping his foot impatiently against the dirt floor. When no answer came, he sighed and knocked harder, frowning.

Tommy glanced over at Tubbo. "Think he's not home?"

"Where else would he be?" Tubbo asked in reply, his frown deepening into a confused scowl. "I don't get why he's not answering. Is he sleeping? Honestly." He grumbled a few curses and hammered angrily on the door.

Still no answer.

Tubbo growled and threw his shoulder against the door. The glass made a loud, brittle sound and Tubbo froze just as cracks began to spiderweb into an impact mark. He winced, retreating from the glass door and tracing the shatter marks. "Owch."

"Coward." Tommy took a running start and knocked the door clean off its hinges. It landed on Fundy's foyer and shattered into a million sharp pieces, flying every which way. Tubbo gasped, then glared at Tommy.

"This is his property," Tubbo protested, but his guilt didn't stop him from stepping over the shards of glass and gingerly walking into the hallway beyond.

Tommy shrugged easily. "Meh, who cares? There's sand everywhere, he can probably just make more glass, y'know?"

Tubbo rolled his eyes and began searching.

Fundy's house was built in curved, arching hallways connecting to narrow tunnels which only the fox himself could crawl through. The walls were made of a soft, malleable stone, a bit rough in texture but easy to mine out. Tubbo brushed his hands against the pale walls and they came away covered in white chalk.

"Fundy!" Tubbo called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Tommy glanced around. "His boots are gone, Tubbo," he noticed, bending down next to the foyer. "I don't think he's here. Look, his jacket is gone, too."

Tubbo dropped his arms to his side, grimacing. "You think he's taken a walk or something? Why would he do that?" He picked up a pillow that was on the ground and flipped it over in his hand, seeing with a twist of disgust that there were deep claw marks torn into the soft fabric.

"His brains have been addled, I think, for a while now, Tubbo."

"Doesn't-- make-- any-- sense--" Tubbo threw the pillow at the ground and kicked it irritably. "God, I can't believe him. See anything that might help us find out where he is?"

Tommy hummed thoughtfully, taking lazy steps towards the hallway. He ducked into a room and whistled, slipping inside. None of the rooms had doors-- some of them had gates instead, but most were just left as carved-out arches.

"Woah, rich much? I didn't know he had so much stuff," Tommy commented, peeking his head out of the room to raise an eyebrow at Tubbo. "C'mon, look at this."

Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Most of this stuff he's stolen. Nobody can ever pick out what's theirs, specifically, though, so he just gets away with it. What's that room labelled?" He looked up to see 'honey and berries' written on a sign hung on a crooked wire that dangled from the ceiling.

He walked inside and was immediately met with a wet squelching sound. He lifted his boots up in disgust and saw streams of golden honey dripping off of his soles. "What? Tommy, what'd you do?" He glanced around, seeing more than a few shattered bottles of honey and redberry jam scattered across the floor.

Tommy was admiring a nearby beehive. Next to him was a table filled with sketchbooks, the paper packed with squeezed-in charcoal drawings of what looked like blueprints. Tubbo stopped to flip through the pages, realizing that they were a series of prototype beehouses-- each one more practical and elegantly designed than the last.

Tubbo's gaze lingered especially long on a birch wood design, the beehouse shaped like an acorn and filled with twelve layers of hexagonal honeycomb. Circular holes made it easy for the bees to come in and out, and on the top and bottom of each layer was a doorway to the next level. The 'cap', or the lid, came off easily with a handle that doubled as a hook to hang on nearby trees.

He was jolted from his thoughts when he heard someone calling his name.

Tubbo glanced over at Tommy, who was now picking up and examining a bottle of berry jam. He grabbed Tommy by the elbow and dragged him away, towards the door, ignoring the worrying amount of indignant curses Tommy managed to yell in less than a minute.

"Yes?" Tubbo called once they were out in the sunshine. He dusted off his pant legs, trying to look as though he had not been snooping through his employee's house, no thank you. Tommy was less concerned with appearances, glancing around for the reason why he had been dragged outside.

Across the street, Niki looked in their direction and nearly slumped in relief. She ran over to them, her seashell-pink hair falling in disorganized chaos around her worried expression, and nearly ended up collapsing against Tubbo. "Oh-- thank goodness you're here-- didn't know what to do, I r-really didn't," she cried, mopping disarranged curls out of her eyes.

"Woah, hey," Tubbo said, trying to calm her down. "What's wrong?" Tommy glanced at him anxiously, and he met the other boy's eyes, each of them thinking the same thing-- this couldn't be a coincidence.

Tommy scowled. "What did Fundy do this time? Did he run off just to throw a wildly mean prank?" He looked around the street as though Fundy might just fall off of a roof.

Niki shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. "Is-- is Fundy gone?" she asked, worry spilling through her words once more. "No, it's not, um, I mean to say--" She stopped and swallowed, apparently trying to gather herself before speaking. "I found blood," she blurted, tears welling up in her eyes. "In the forest. A whole b-bunch of it. It's everywhere, you have to see, please help--" She cut herself off with a sob.

Tubbo froze.

Tommy was the one to act quicker, grasping Niki by the arm and helping her up. He looked at her. "Was there a person going along with it?" he asked cautiously as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

She shook her head again, smearing at her teary eyes and sniffling. "I haven't seen Ranboo all day, though, so I got-- r-really worried--"

Ranboo?

No. No, he couldn't be--

Instantly, Fundy was forgotten.

Tubbo's eyes widened fractionally at the idea that Ranboo could-- that he could be-- he shoved the thought out of his mind, feeling sick. Trying to calm himself down, he took a deep, shuddering breath, then opened his eyes. He put on the mask he had so many times before; one of a leader, someone who actually knew what they were doing, not just a scared child.

"Okay, okay, let's go... let's go see what's going on," Tubbo said, trying to sound comforting and firm, though his voice shook as he spoke. He glanced between Niki and Tommy. "Show me where you found the blood."

---

Fundy shrieked as the ender pearl landed on top of a shop roof, his foot slipping and nearly tipping the two over onto the street below. He clung onto Dream, somehow managing to become a koala in barely a single second, and Dream almost stumbled and fell into the street as Fundy had just done.

He finally managed to grab onto a protruding brick on a chimney and stop them from plummeting. Fundy made a strangled noise as he looked down at the steep drop, realizing that a fall that far added to his present injuries would probably kill him. His grip on Dream tightened, and the admin slowly dragged the two of them onto the middle of the roof and away from the side of the shop.

"Woo," Dream said, voice shaken, and Fundy couldn't help but agree. He gave Fundy a wide-eyed glance. "I promise I'm usually better at figuring out where to land."

Fundy winced. "You better be," he grumbled, but there was no real malice in his voice. He sat-- maybe collapsed was a better word-- into a criss-cross position, his mouth screwed up into a pained frown. "That was... something," he mumbled, rubbing his ribs and making a soft groan.

"Yeah, ouch. Sorry. You okay?" Dream knelt down next to Fundy, putting a hand on his knee.

Before they had pearled away from his house, Dream gave Fundy what was left of his clothes. Fundy's shirt and pants had been torn beyond repair, but luckily his jacket and hat were okay-- they had just needed a quick wash to get the, er, blood out, Dream had explained. Fundy was wearing them now, the comforting feel of the worn fabric giving him slight confidence.

Luckily, Bad had been more than willing to help Fundy out with the binding tape, and he had even been able to sympathize slightly. Although it wasn't exactly the same, it was still the closest similarity Fundy had ever found, and it made him much more comfortable talking to the demon.

"It doesn't hurt that much," Fundy responded, giving Dream a slight swat. 

Dream quirked an eyebrow at the other boy. "That's not the type of 'okay' I meant, and you know it." 

Fundy's grin slipped off his face for an instant. He glanced down at the ground, then looked back up and gave Dream a slight smile. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Dream glanced at Fundy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, then, if you're sure. Let's make a battle plan." He sat down on the roof, cross-legged, and gestured for Fundy to join him. Fundy obliged, with a slight hiss of pain as he sat down, and Dream pulled him closer until their sides were pressed together. Fundy let his head flop on Dream's shoulder, watching the vaguely blurring sunset cast L'Manburg's cityscape into fractured silhouettes. 

"Why do we need a battle plan?" Fundy asked, rather tiredly. "Can't we just talk to them?" 

Dream shrugged and Fundy had to readjust his position draped around Dream's shoulders. "I suppose we could, but I don't think it's a good idea to not have, at least, a rough plan. Don't you think? That way, if anything unexpected happens, we still have an idea about what to do." He smiled down at Fundy, tucking a stray ginger curl behind the fox's ear. 

Fundy hummed a response, his gaze still fixated on the dark shadows of L'Manburg's buildings. "I guess." He glanced up at Dream, amber eyes sparkling. "Go on then, big plan guy. Any ideas?"

They found Tubbo on the edge of L'Manburg, nearly in the forest that surrounded one side of it. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were wide, his entire body tense with obvious stress rippling through his expression. 

Fundy approached him gingerly, his ears twitching back uncomfortably. He still didn't like being around Tubbo, but now he knew the sense of unease was more than just anxiety over maybe not having finished the paperwork on the exact date it was due. He curled his hands into fists, tugging at the sleeves that draped over his pale, shaking hands, his chest already rising and falling more rapidly. 

Dream gave him a comforting smile, then fell into step a few paces behind him. They had decided it was probably better to have Fundy be in front, doing the talking. Dream was there in case something went awry-- and because Fundy didn't know if he could do this by himself, not really. 

Tubbo's eyes flicked over to Fundy, noticing him for the first time even though he had been standing there for a good half minute. 

Having Tubbo's eyes on him again sent a fresh wave of panic through Fundy. He seized hold of his thoughts, trying to drag himself back to a state of consciousness that wasn't just 'fight or flight'. He tried to smile, and thought he might be doing...  a decent job? He wasn't sure. 

"Fundy, thank goodness you're finally here," Tubbo exclaimed, sounding stressed. He was standing next to Tommy and Niki, both of whom were chattering anxiously, but quickly fell silent when they noticed him. 

A spark of hope flared to life in Fundy's chest. Had they, against all odds, actually missed him?

Tubbo continued, running a hand through his mop of hair. "I can't find Ranboo, and Niki found a great deal of blood in the forest, I sure don't know where the hell you've been but I don't really care anymore. Heaven knows I need all hands on deck right now, the disappearance didn't help things, it's good that you're here now. I'm still going to tell you off later, of course," he said with amusement, as though inviting Fundy to share in the joke-- what joke?-- and he glanced around, worry settling in his blue eyes again. "Not now, though. Right now I'm too worried."

The spark was instantly smothered.

Fundy felt his expression shutter, the hope shining in his eye immediately go dim. He took a step back, closer to Dream, almost bristling. He still hadn't said a word, too scared that if he opened his mouth, he would cry. That if he said a word, it would come out as a sob. 

Tubbo, completely oblivious, kept speaking. "Can you get on it? Good? Go--..."

His voice stopped short when he saw the figure standing next to his employee.

Dream wasn't standing too threateningly, his arms crossed over his hoodie and his head tilted to a jaunty angle as if daring Tubbo to make the first move. But he made an impact all the same. Maybe to someone who didn't know him that well, Dream's stance would look calm, even amused, but despite only knowing him for a day, Fundy could still sense waves of discomfort rolling off of Dream. Even with the mask, Fundy could that his body was thrumming with tension.

Tubbo just gaped at him, apparently unsure just what to say. "I-I-- you--"

Tommy, on the other hand, made no such show of surprise. His eyes narrowed in barely concealed hatred and he took a step forward, almost unconsciously. "You," he snarled, his hands clenching into fists.

"Me," Dream agreed with a touch more amusement than was necessary. Tommy growled.

"You-- just up and left-- you swore to Will that you wouldn't betray us a second time, you swore it--!"

Self-consciously, Fundy cleared his throat, trying to draw their attention back to the matter at hand.

Tubbo's eyes flickered back to Fundy, growing horror mixing with a slowly dawning comprehension on his face. "Fundy, explain yourself. Just what are you doing with Dream?"

"Nothing much," Fundy shrugged, marvelling at how calm he was able to keep his tone. He found that after years of learning to disguise self-hatred, you became an expert in all things hiding emotions. "He just saved my life."

He smiled at Tubbo's shocked face, tiny, sharp canines peeking out over his lips, watching with satisfaction as the reality of the situation crashed over Tubbo like a wave at a beach.

Tommy somehow tore his gaze away from Dream and stared in confusion at Fundy. "Whatcha mean, Its?" he asked slowly. "Dunno what you're talkin' about. Maybe you've had a few too many shots, picked up some bad habits from ol' Schlatt--"

"DON'T," Fundy barked, much louder than he had intended. He clapped a hand over his mouth as hot tears stung his eyes, his echo bouncing off the looming walls of the dark oak forest. "Don't... compare me to him," Fundy mumbled. "You know I don't like it."

"Alright, so enlighten us," Tommy said with more than a little impatience. "What are you doing here after being missing for three days straight, and what are you doing with him?"

He nodded viciously in Dream's direction. Fundy took a step back, feeling anxiety close cold talons around his chest.

Behind him, he felt Dream tensing. Fundy looked back at Dream to see his fingers twitching towards a large, intimidatingly sharp axe-- not close enough to pose an immediate threat, but enough to make the surrounding people nervous. His face-- what little Fundy could see of it-- was stormy and pale.

Fundy froze, then sighed, brushing a strand of ginger hair away from his face. His voice was quiet when he spoke-- as if apologizing for his earlier outburst. "I'll explain everything, just, please--"

Eyes fixed on Dream, Tommy drew his sword. 

Dream made a soft noise of warning, his hand closing around the hilt of his own weapon. Fundy felt adrenaline spiking along his arms and legs, his heart rate erratically loud. No, n-no, no, no, his thoughts stammered. No, no, we're supposed to talk, we're not--

He rounded on the person whom he knew would listen to him. "Dream, don't, please," he appealed, his voice fragile from the pressure that crackled through the scene. 

Tommy froze. Dream stopped moving, maybe stopped breathing, almost looking past Fundy, still glaring daggers at the two other boys. Fundy swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. "No fighting. Please."

A long, tense moment passed, Fundy's hand laid softly over the one Dream had on his axe. 

"...yeah." Dream let out a slow breath and took his hand off the axe handle.

Tommy's eyes widened as if shocked, but at a short look from Tubbo, he shoved his sword back in the scabbard. "Alright, then," he muttered, turning away angrily. 

Fundy gave Dream a small, shaky smile. "Thanks."

Tubbo's eyes flickered to the axe hanging by Dream's side and he swallowed as if considering how much damage it could do. As if he thought that fighting really might be a way out of this.

Finally, his gaze drifted back to Fundy, brow crinkling. "You obviously want something. Well, have out with it. What d'you want? Take it-- it's not like we can stop you, not with Dream as your guard dog," he spat angrily.

Behind Fundy, Dream bristled angrily.

"I'm nobody's guard dog," he snapped, clear fury rippling through his voice. "I'm helping Fundy because he deserves it, unlike you, you--" He cut himself off, shoulders shaking.

"What?" taunted Tubbo, a scowl written in the lines over his freckled nose. "Finish the sentence, why don't you?"

Fundy was almost sure he might have to jump in front of Dream to stop the taller boy from lopping off Tubbo's head then and there.

"I don't... want... anything," Fundy almost pleaded, turning back to Tubbo with worry in his eyes.

The pressure was starting to get to him, all the different expectations pressing in on him from all sides. His vision began to swim and he realized he had started crying. Brushing the tears away angrily, he scowled at the ground.

"I just want to say something, God, it's not as if I'm here to steal the community house." His laugh was bitter and cold.

"We didn't know that," mumbled Niki, unhelpfully.

Frustration boiled in Fundy until it almost bubbled over, his options slowly shutting themselves down as pressure oozed out of him like steam from a kettle. "I-I just want to be listened to," he said, rather desperately. He backed up another step. A little further back and he would walk right into Dream.

He fumbled anxiously with his hands and flinched when pain jolted through his bandaged wrists. "And-- and I've finally found someone who will listen. And guess what, you guys are nowhere on the fucking list." His laugh turned into something like a sob.

"Fundy--" Tubbo started, lifting a hand, and Fundy cut him off with a growl.

"You don't get to apologize anymore. Every day I've tried to do my best, and you shut me down and insulted me and-- and I don't even know, it's just sickening and disgusting the amount of times you had to notice me, to notice how damn overworked I've been, and you decided to close your eyes."

"What's going on here?"

The voice came from Fundy's left. He turned first, then immediately froze.

Tubbo let out a sob, his expression somewhere between relief and anger. He flung himself at Ranboo, wrapping the Enderman in a tight squeeze. "You idiot!" he cried. "I thought you had died!" 

Ranboo's expression went slightly alarmed, probably from the startling combination of Tubbo's tears and the fact that he had been dive-bombed in a hug. He awkwardly patted Tubbo's back, then looked around. "No? I was... sleeping?" 

Fundy's mind had apparently decided to stop working. He didn't know whether to cry, laugh, or just cease existing, but his limbs seemed to be frozen in place, as though he were an old children's toy that had been thrown out, the gears slowly creaking to a halt. 

He tried opening his mouth as if to push a sound out of it, but his eyes immediately started to fill with tears, forcing him to stay quiet. He watched as Tubbo scolded Ranboo, as Tommy tore his attention away from Dream to go give Tubbo a comforting pat, only sparing Fundy one more glance. 

Of course, they wouldn't care about me. Of course, no matter how much I cry, no matter how much I scream, they don't see it. I don't matter. 

"Tubbo?" he whispered, reaching out a hand as though making an offering, although it sent shivers of pain up and down his arm. His entire body felt as though in agony. His eyes blurred with tears, the edges smearing and running like rain down a waterlogged windowpane. 

The president of L'Manburg didn't give him a single glance. 

He had much more important stuff to attend to, anyway. 

Not like Fundy. 

Fundy let out a soft sob and whirled on his heel, shoving past Tubbo and Ranboo and dashing into the forest, where he might not be safe, but he knew they couldn't follow. 

---

(You see here, the author wanted desperately to cause pain and suffering for Tubbo, but I held myself back, which is why there is no more graphic gore in this fanfiction. Congrats you're almost through this fucking how-to-cry tutorial)

Dream considered himself fairly observant. Which was why, after a short while, he had gathered that Tubbo only noticed Fundy when Fundy was not there. 

That was to say, Tubbo only talked about Fundy when he could complain that he was missing. 

This time, though, Tubbo noticed it when Fundy left. It was kind of a given, as Fundy had pushed him furiously to the side, but it was still much too late. 

Dream made a furious noise behind the mask, watching Tubbo and Ranboo's startled expressions as Fundy vanished into the forest. They didn't get to be surprised. Everything that they had done had led up to this very moment. 

"Fundy?" Tubbo called, staring into the forest with a stupidly surprised look. "What--" He made a move as if to go after Fundy, but Dream had no intention of letting them close to him, ever again. 

He drew his sword faster than he thought was possible and swung it at Tubbo, only stopping a few centimetres away from killing him. It landed right on the front of Tubbo's neck, like a gentle bird, just enough so that he could feel the cold blade on his neck. 

Tubbo froze, his eyes darting towards Dream. Ranboo let out a curse, and Tommy said a word that Dream didn't think he should even know existed. 

He squeezed the handle of his sword tighter, every muscle in his body taut with fury. His shoulders were shaking with anger, disbelief mixing with rage as he realized to just what extent Tubbo's disregard for Fundy had gone. 

Dream had watched Tubbo hurt Fundy all over again, maybe without meaning to-- but did that matter?-- then completely disregard him, only to feel regret just now? No. They didn't have the right. 

"Let go of him, Dream," Ranboo said, as though it were a warning. "I don't know what happened, but it wasn't his fault." 

That almost made Dream laugh. He decided to ignore Ranboo for the moment. 

"Dream...?" Tubbo said slowly, trying to inch back. "...what are you doing?" 

"I'm forcing you to stay here, and not go after him," Dream replied, amazed at how even his voice was, even when red blurred at the corners of his vision. "Because, you see," his voice went to a lethal whisper, "there is no way in hell I am letting you near Fundy ever again. There are so many things wrong with what just happened, and if you can't see that they're all your fault, then there is absolutely no hope for you." 

Tommy's hand inched toward his own sword hilt, but Dream sent him a cold glare and he stopped moving, his face flashing with desperation and anger. 

Tubbo laughed nervously, loud and high. "I was going to go apologize! Apologies are good, right?" He gave Dream a weak smile, but he was unimpressed. 

Dream let out a low laugh, deciding to humour them for a moment or two. "Yes, yes, apologies are good." Tubbo relaxed noticeably, and then Dream continued, making sure to push the blade a little further against his neck. "But not when they're too late, Tubbo. You've gotta make sure they're at just the right time, and there were several right times here, I'm sure, and you let them fly right past you." He watched with satisfaction as a thin crimson line appeared on Tubbo's neck. 

Tommy's face went through several strong emotions, then finally landed on a beautiful mixture of terror and panic. "You're going to kill us. He's going to kill us," he said, almost announcing it, his voice loud and frightened. "You're fucking crazy."

"I'm not gonna kill you," Dream said calmly, perhaps with a touch more amusement than what was needed. "Just a warning." 

He dropped the sword and strolled closer to Tubbo, seizing hold of his shoulder and squeezing it until he was sure bruises would appear the next day. A choked, terrified sound fell from Tubbo's lips as Dream bent down slightly, trying to get on eye level with him. This had the added benefit of letting Dream be condescending. 

He grinned, though he knew Tubbo couldn't see it. "I'm letting you know that if I ever see you approach Fundy unprompted, if you ever hurt him again, if you even dare to talk about him as though he never tried his fucking hardest, I will not hesitate to run my sword right through your chest and leave you for dead in the forest-- as you did to him, three and a half days ago." 

Dream released Tubbo's shoulder, sheathing his sword. He cast one more glare around at the group, then quickly set off in search of Fundy. 

There was a question begging to be asked. 

Dream found Fundy curled up and shaking under a tall dark oak tree. He almost mistook the ginger boy for an actual fox, as there was a thick patch of berry bushes around him, hiding pretty much everything except for his set of ginger ears. 

Fundy looked up, sniffling, and saw Dream. The weak smile that crossed his face almost broke Dream's heart. He didn't want Fundy to think he had to pretend he was alright. 

"Hey..." Dream murmured, wading through the berry bushes and crouching down next to Fundy. "That went terribly. I'm sorry you had to see that." 

Smearing away tears, Fundy let out a bark of laughter. "That was on me. I shouldn't have come-- I knew they wouldn't care about me anyway." Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, his shoulders and chest quaking with sobs. 

Dream paused before slowly reaching out a hand, his fingers barely grazing Fundy's shoulder. "Want a hug?" 

Fundy hesitated, then shook his head, falling silent again. Dream just nodded, pulling back his hand and letting himself fall into a sitting position next to Fundy. They sat there for a while, Dream's head tipped back to gaze up as clouds moved across the sky. The trees mostly blocked the sky, but he could catch a few snippets of blue here and there. 

Slowly, Dream could sense Fundy's breathing calming down. The sobs eventually faded off into deep, shaking breaths, and after a while, he leaned tiredly against Dream's shoulder. Pressed up against Fundy's side as he now was, Dream could feel Fundy's heartbeat, still jumping every couple of seconds as if scared. 

"Tubbo's fucking awful for doing that," Dream murmured after a few minutes. "I can't-- I can't believe him." He let out a slow sigh. 

Fundy hummed a noncommital reply, his ears twitching back. "And that was the worst possible moment for Ranboo to show up. I guess, um, the universe just loves fucking me over," he mumbled, a small laugh making his pulse hiccup. 

Dream shook his head. "No, none of that is the universe," he said. He glanced over at Fundy. He could still see tearstains streaking down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy from crying. "It was their fault, plain and simple, and I told them as much. You told them as much. You were amazing." He felt Fundy shift, hugging his knees to his chest. 

"...thanks," Fundy whispered, his voice splintering. "And... um... thanks for being there. You're also pretty amazing." 

"That kind of brings me around to the question I wanted to ask you." Dream hesitated, almost scared to say anything. 

Fundy looked at him, tilting his head in confusion. "Oh? What's wrong?" He tensed, and Dream could almost see the thoughts running through his head in fright-- was this all a joke? Did he do this just for laughs?

Dream took a deep breath and let it out. He reached up, shifting his already-crooked mask to the side, then pulling it off his face entirely. For the first time now, Fundy could see Dream's expression fully, and Dream knew what he was thinking. Shock, probably, but also fear, too. What was so important Dream had to take his mask off? 

Leaning forward, Dream let all of his sincerity show. "Fundy, I don't want you to go back and live in L'Manburg anymore. I-- I'd like it-- I'd really like it if you maybe-- um-- came back to my house and, uh, l-lived with me." 

His breath rattled in his chest and he barreled on, not waiting for Fundy's face to change into an expression of obvious pity. Why would he just leave? There was no way. But Dream had started, and he couldn't stop now. "I don't-- think it's... good... for you to live here-- uh, that is, L'Manburg--" Of course 'here' means L'Manburg, you idiot, what are you saying? "--anymore. You don't have to say yes, it-- it's just a suggestion, a-and you're probably--" 

Fundy's gasp was small, tearful, and light as sunshine. Dream stopped talking, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, his head bowed and arms looped around his knees. "...sorry," he finished in a pained whisper. "I didn't mean to--"

The hug that Dream was wrapped in was tight and sudden, leaving him breathless. He looked down at Fundy, startled, and saw that tears were running down the fox's cheeks again. "Dream, I swear to god, stop apologizing." Fundy's voice was muffled since his face was buried in Dream's hoodie.

"Um, okay," Dream said, his voice having gone up several octaves in shock. He tugged Fundy closer into the hug, and it was slightly awkward since both of them were sitting own and Dream's mask was pressed painfully against his shoulder, but he couldn't care less. 

Fundy looked up, wiping away tears. His smile was shaky, but his eyes had regained that tiny little spark, a laugh bubbling in his throat. "That is the best fucking idea I have heard in ages. Let's get away from here and never come back." 

Dream's world seemed to shift visibly around him, and suddenly he was seeing things in a brand new way, as though the light had changed, the sun had risen despite it being the middle of the day, and he was flooded with a warmth that he couldn't quite explain yet he wanted to stay forever. He grinned back at Fundy, his own eyes sparkling in warm delight. 

"Alright then, let's have ourselves our own little adventure."

---

(Alright, here's your token happy couple, enjoy and be glad I'm not putting any more angst in this thing)

Back at Dream's house, Bad unscrewed a bottle of soda and wondered how long it would be before the two came back. 

He was sitting on the kitchen counter as he often did, legs and tail swinging vaguely back and forth and occasionally thumping against the cabinet he was situated on. A song was stuck in his head, and he didn't know the lyrics, but it was cheerful enough that he bounced along to it as he sipped his soda. 

Skeppy sat at the nearby kitchen table, reading a book. 

Bad smiled at his boyfriend, watching as the light shone through the window and flooded the other boy with a warm glow. "When d'you think they'll be back?" he asked, making his voice soft on purpose, not wanting to disturb the gentle evening. 

"Hmm, who knows," Skeppy replied, tossing his head back and forth as his eyes scanned the page. "Did Dream even explain what they were doing?" 

Shaking his head, Bad slipped off the counter and padded over to Skeppy, his wings rustling quietly. "No, he didn't. Just that it was important." He sat on the table, glancing at the book Skeppy was reading. (Okay but Bad never sits on an actual chair unless he absolutely has to, he just does, it just makes sense) 

Skeppy looked up at Bad, smiling. He closed his book, lounging back in his chair and stretching his arms up above his head. "If it's important, then they probably won't be back until late tonight. And so we probably have the whole house to ourselves. You know what that means--" 

"Movie!" Bad cheered, his tail thumping happily against the tabletop. "Your turn to pick, I think. But no horror movies, remember, it just scares both of us." He grinned, taking another sip of his soda. 

"No horror movies," Skeppy agreed, an affectionate grin crossing his face. He stood up, then held out a hand as if to help Bad off the table. Bad rolled his eyes but took it anyway, slipping down from the counter and making sure not to spill his drink (it had ice cubes, nobody wants to spill ice cubes). 

Looking over at Skeppy, bathed in the beautiful light of the golden hour, Bad decided he really, really wanted to smother him in lots of little kisses. His boyfriend was so pretty, so kind, and though they teased a lot, it was rare for them to have an actual fight. 

"I love you," Bad murmured, unable to keep the simple fondness from his voice, "so much." He laughed happily, love fizzing little sparks in his chest. 

Skeppy glanced over and gave Bad a brilliant smile. "Love you too, sunshine," he grinned, lifting Bad's hand to his lips and kissing it gently. 

As always, a bright blush settled on Bad's cheeks at how Skeppy always managed to overdo the displays of affection. His thoughts began to turn into flustered stammering, but before he could go into a full state of embarrassed panic, he squeezed Skeppy's hand and tugged him towards the living room. 

A nest of pillows was promptly arranged on the floor, and an old movie selected, which both had watched around a thousand times before. Bad yawned, then sighed happily, letting his head drop into Skeppy's lap. Skeppy obliged to run his hands through Bad's hair, playing with the white-and-black curls as the two watched the movie. 

The night bloomed into soft blues and quiet indigoes, the moon a wavering, golden crescent surrounded by her pillow of stars. Bad yawned again, then several more times, and began to doze. 

The movie ended, yet neither of them moved. Skeppy's breathing turned soft and even, the two cuddled up on the couch. It wasn't even a very comfy couch, it's just hard to care when it's late at night and you're snuggled up with your boyfriend. 

And the stars came and went, and the moon rose and fell, and Fundy and Dream opened the door that night to find the couple curled up together on the not-quite-comfy couch, the credits of an old movie playing, and an empty soda bottle on the table next to them.