The homeless man's home
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In which you realize Dream 
has been colorblind all along
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   The house was rather small, but it only made it that much more comfortable to be in. It had a total of five rooms, the first one being the living room you woke up in. The next one was a bedroom, consisting of nothing but a king-sized bed, a closet, and another green carpet to give the room a little color. There was a bathroom right next to it, and both of the rooms didn't have any windows either. Everything was lit up by candles or lamps. It gave it a cozy vibe, but you couldn't help but miss the daylight. You asked Dream about the lack of windows, to which he just shrugged it off, saying he didn't like the idea of someone lurking through them.

   Next up, was the kitchen at the other end of the living room. And by a kitchen, you meant a room with a sink, a stove, and a shelf with ingredients. There also was a chest with what you guessed to be food in it. "Is this the place you've lived all this time?" You asked. Dream was thinking about what to answer, much to your confusion. It wasn't a very hard question. 

   "Nah. It's just a place I use whenever I'm in the area. My real house is nowhere near here."

   "Well, where is your real house?"

   "You don't have to worry about it," He smiled, taking your hand. He dragged you out into the hallway before you could question it.

   The hallway was unnecessarily long and dark. In contrast to any of the other rooms, there almost weren't any candles, paintings, or carpets. It was just two dark wooden walls, a stone floor, and a high roof. Dream took you to the end of it where you found a huge metal door.

   There wasn't any more to the house, so you guessed that was the exit. Still, you couldn't help but ask what was behind it, just to be sure. You had your brows raised at the three locks on it. Why would someone need three locks?

   "Well, it's the way out," Dream answered with a shrug. He noticed what you were looking at and squeezed your hand. "I have many enemies, (Y/n). The locks are to keep them out, not lock you in."

   "Yeah" You nodded, wondering why this place felt familiar. Why you felt as if you've been in this exact spot before. "Of course."

   Dream smiled and began to walk back, but you kept standing your ground. He turned around, looking at you with that beautiful pair of emerald-green eyes. "What's the matter?"

   What was the matter? That was an extremely good question, and you would love to have the answer to it. But the problem was you didn't know. You didn't know why you felt so weird, so paranoid, but you did. You felt as if something was wrong, something was missing. But you didn't know what. "Can we go outside?" you then heard yourself ask. "Uh, I think I need some fresh air."

   Dream ran a hand through his hair and let his hands rest on the back of his head. "I'd love to do that with you sometime (Y/n), but it's the middle of the night right now. We wouldn't be able to see a thing. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's raining."

   You mouthed an 'oh'. You had no idea it was that late at night. After all, you weren't able to see the outside world at all. You wanted to follow Dream back to the living room. In fact, you almost got surprised when your legs refused to move. It was like they had been glued to the ground, not wanting to leave this very spot. It was only when Dream took your hand in his and pulled you away, that they started to work properly again.

   "Well, that was pretty much it. It's nothing much, but I figured you'd like it that way" Dream said, the tour coming to an end.

   You found yourself walking toward the painting with you and Dream on it, happily running on a sunflower field, laughing. The sun was at its highest, matching all of the yellow flowers surrounding the two of you. You examined it closely. "I do like it. It's just like the house we used to live in."

   "Exactly" Dream hummed, suddenly behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on the top of your head. "Do you remember when we painted that? We nearly spent a whole week on it"

   He said that as if he actually thought you had the capability to answer a question when he was this close to you. Your cheeks burned so much you were afraid he could feel the heat, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid it'd simply hop out of your chest.

   "I practically did it all. You're so bad at drawing." You managed to say in between flustered breaths. You were glad he couldn't see your face.

   You felt his shoulder rise and fall in a laughing manner. "What?! I did all the coloring! And the hands! You always said you hated drawing hands."

   "And you did a really bad job!" Now you laughed as well. "You're not supposed to have six fingers, Dream!"

   "Oh please, you can barely see it."

   "And what about these sunflowers?" You continued to mock him by pointing at the flowers in the right corner. "Why are their petals green?"

   "I probably ran out of yellow! You can't even tell the difference!"

   "Did George tell you that?"

   "Haha, (Y/n). Very funny." Dream rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. He turned you around, expecting you to laugh as well, but he was met with a confused expression.

   George. The name had rolled off your tongue before you had thought twice about it. As if your mind had spoken on command.

   You knew a person called George. Well, obviously. But then why was your mind so blurry when your mind said his name out loud? It was like it struggled to put a face on him.

   Dream noticed and was quick to change the subject. "Are you hungry? I can make you some food if you'd like?"

   You blinked the weird thoughts away and smiled at him. "No, not really. But thanks for the offer." You raised a hand to scratch the back of your neck like you always did whenever you tried to hide a blush. You noticed something was missing on your back. "Hey, have you seen my quiver? All of my arrows?"

   You made a hand movement to open your inventory, only to see it was empty. Everything was gone. Including your bow.

   Your eyes widened in realization. There was only one explanation to this. You looked at Dream who looked as if you had just punched him in the stomach. "Oh god, I died. I died. But how, I don't even remember dying!?"

   You were panicking. That meant you only had one life left. Next time, you'd be away for good. You'd never wake up again. It would all be over.

   But Dream was quick to calm you down. He took your hands, stopping them from pulling your hair out. "Hey, relax. You didn't die, I just hid all of your things away. It's in the closet, in the bedroom. You can have it whenever you want."

   You narrowed your eyes, but you still held his hand. You didn't want to let go of the waves of warmth his touch sent through your body. "Why would you do that? How were you even able to? The only one who can open my inventory is myself."

   He shook his head calmly. He let go of your left hand, and placed both of his hands on your right. He fiddled with it, forcing your index and middle finger up. Then he made them draw a circle in the air, and your inventory appeared in mid-air. "See? It's that easy."

   You gaped, switching your gaze at the see-through screen in front of you and Dream himself. How come you had never known about this? If you had known it was this easy to steal, you would've become a professional thief by now. "And you did that while I was sleeping? See you in court, Dream."

   He huffed. "I only did it, because I didn't know how you'd react when you woke up. I don't know if you remember, but before I took you here, you weren't in a very good state of mind."

   You did remember. Well, you did, but you also didn't. His words made a bell ring and you knew it was the truth. In fact, it was almost like you could feel all of the pain and hatred you had once felt. You didn't know who that hatred had been directed toward, but you knew you never wanted to feel it again.

   "Thanks for taking me here." You just said, trying to get forget the memories that had just appeared in your mind. "Thanks for helping me out."

   Dream smiled a little bit too happily. "I knew you'd thank me."

   His voice was calm, but it had a hint of pride. You were just about to question it when Dream let out a yawn. You laughed. "Are you tired?"

  He shook his head no, but another yawn betrayed him. You sat down on the couch and placed a pillow in your lap, gesturing for him to lay down.

   He hesitated a bit. Quite a while actually, but eventually he laid down, head resting on the pillow. You played with his unbelievably soft hair.

   Dream was a little stiff at first. But after a few minutes of you humming and making small braids in his hair, you felt his body relax. You thought he had already fallen asleep when he spoke your name.

   "(Y/n)?"

   You hummed in response.

   But Dream didn't actually have anything to ask you. He just needed confirmation that you were still there. That all of this, the two of you finally being back together, wasn't just a dream.

   It was so surreal. He's spent the last few months being your old friend in disguise. It had been hard not to tell you the truth, but now he had finally found a way to actually tell it, without it threatening his power. He could have you all to himself, keep you safe and sound without anyone interfering. It was almost too good to be true.

   Dream quickly came up with something to say, so the situation wouldn't get weird. "You're staying here, right?"

   You looked down at him, only to meet his green eyes in an intense stare. You furrowed your brows and smiled. "Well of course. Where else would I go?"

   Now he smiled too. But not in a relieved kind of way. "Guess your right. You're not as cool as I am to have multiple houses."

   You giggled and smacked his head. Then you turned serious. "I'd love to see your real home one day, you know."

   "You're my real home, (Y/n). Always has been."

   "Now you're just being cheesy."

   "I'm being honest."

   "You're honesty is cheesy." You suppressed a wide grin. You remembered how you would always say that to him when you were younger, whenever he would shower you with compliments, or say something that made your cheeks burn. You had always acted like you didn't like it, but that had been a lie. You loved it. 

   You didn't answer him. You were afraid you'd be too flustered not to stutter. Therefore, you just rolled your head back and looked up at the ceiling, hand still curled up in Dreams hair.

   He had taken the words right out of your mouth. You had felt as if you had been homeless for the last five years, but now that you had got reunited with him at last, it felt as if you were home. You didn't care if you lived under a literal rock or in a whole-ass mansion, as long as you were with him.

   Okay, now you were being cheesy.

   But as wholesome as this whole moment was, your mind couldn't help but ruin it.

   The last five years, it repeated. That was a very long time. And so why was your mind so damn blurry when thinking about them? What had you been doing all that time?

   "(Y/n)!"

   You rose a brow. "What is it now? Dream, you're supposed to get some rest-"

   You stopped mid-sentence when looking at Dream's sleeping figure. His eyelids were sealed shut and he had a peaceful look on his face. He looked so innocent - something he only looked like when he was fast asleep.

   Confused for dear life, you looked around the living room. No one was there.

   You held your breath and listened closely to any other unfamiliar sounds. You leaned over Dream in a protective manner, all of your senses sharpened. He had said that he had many enemies. What if one of them had broken into his house? What if you were being watched right now?

   Dream had put your bow and arrows in a closet, and your inventory was empty. You had nothing to defend yourself with.

   But as your heart and mind kept racing, the house continued being quiet. You sat there for the next fifteen minutes, but nothing happened.

   You closed your eyes and shook it off. You were probably just being paranoid.

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Ha-hey! According to Wattpad-statistics, only a small percentage of you lovely people who read my story, actually follow me, so if you do enjoy this book, consider to-*dies*

Oh my god, I hate writing fluff. WHERE'S THE ACTION. WHERE'S THE ANGST.