Dreaming of Demons (Dream x oc)

[10] Oranges

Dream was writing in some sort of notebook, sitting at his desk as I entered the cell. I set the tray on the ground, the action having become a kind of habit already.

I briefly wondered if we would have another conversation about morals or something. I wasn't sure if I was ready to hear another one of his twisted ideas.

Dream didn't acknowledge my presence, but as I stood there watching, he flipped a page in his notebook. He scribbled something down and lifted the notebook off the desktop, turning in his chair to show me the open page.

I raised my brows. "You want me to read that?"

He remained still, so I tentatively stepped closer and leaned in to read the short sentence of hastily stroked words.

I can't speak.

I glanced up at him, straightening up.

"You can't speak?" I repeated. "Why? What happened?"

He pulled the notebook back to the desk and put his pen on the paper to write, freezing up as soon as he did so. After a second or two he wrote something down, his strokes slower, more tense than before. He showed me the page.

Don't want to.

I nodded slowly after I read his words. "Okay..." My gaze averted to the walls of the cell, my arms folding in front of me. Was this how our conversation was going to go for today? I wasn't against the idea, but what was the matter with just talking?

The silence was heavy as I looked around for something to talk about. The bright color of the orange caught my eye and I remembered why I had brought it.

"Oh! Do you like oranges? I brought you one."

I stepped back to the tray and picked up the orange, tossing it in the air as I turned back around. "I guess this isn't technically a full orange. I don't know what the mini ones are called, but you can have it if you want it."

Dream watched me for a second and then turned to write. Instead of holding the notebook up after, he slid it across the desk, angling the page towards me.

I walked over to the desk, hovering next to him as my eyes scanned the words.

I think they're tangerines. And yes I would like some.

A small smile turned my lips. "Cool. I'll peel it real quick."

I peeled the orange, pausing to figure out where to get rid of the peelings when I realized I could throw them in the lava. As soon as the orange was split, a citrus aroma filled the cell. I handed half of the orange to Dream and he carefully accepted it, setting the few slices aside. He tapped the notebook page to show me the new words he had written.

You like oranges?

"Oh, I love oranges. They're my favorite fruit." I popped a small slice in my mouth and relished the sweet, tangy flavor. It had been a while since I had eaten an orange and these ones were perfect deliciousness.

I picked off a few of the stringy, white stuff from my orange slices and tossed them into the lava. I glanced at Dream as he sat, the gaze of his mask glued to his open notebook. The orange slices sat untouched at the corner of his desk and his leg bounced continuously.

"What's your favorite fruit?" I asked, trying to fill the room with some sort of conversation, even though he could only answer silently.

He lifted his pen to write, and after a moment I was able to read the new words.

I like strawberries.

I tilted my head. "Ooh strawberries are a close second for me."

He suddenly pulled back the notebook to quickly add something else.

But oranges are good too.

This time, a small scribble clouded at the end of the sentence. It looked like he had crossed out a sideways smiley face. I glanced at him, wondering briefly why he would want to cross a simple thing out. I guess he didn't really need it because his mask was always smiling for him.

My arms folded over themselves. "Well maybe I could convince Sam to let me bring strawberries next time."

His head snapped up and he studied me for a moment. Almost hesitantly, his gaze returned to his notebook, and the pen barely rested above the page in his hand. From where I stood, I could see his fingers tighten around the pen before flipping it in his hand quickly and writing some words down once more. The notebook scuffed on the desk as he pushed it towards me carefully.

You should leave.

I glanced at him, but he wouldn't look at me. Had I said something wrong?

I looked over my shoulder at the bright lava. "Okay...If you really want me to, I'll leave."

I stepped back tentatively, expecting him to reply somewhat. He stayed frozen, just staring at the page with his written words. I began to reach for my communicator when I paused. His hand was curled around the pen tightly. Something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" My voice was cautious.

Dream stood up abruptly, sending the wooden chair teetering across the floor and the chain on his ankle rattling. He snapped the notebook shut, and I stepped away from him quickly. All the terrible things I had heard about him surged to the front of my mind. He wasn't going to hurt me was he? My brain struggled to rewind and find the one thing that had made him angry, but I didn't want to waste anymore time here.

I called Sam, my gaze pinned on Dream as he continued to stand with his back facing me, clutching the notebook in his hand. I half expected him to whip around and somehow attack me before Sam could pull me back, but both of us stayed unmoving, only the tension in the cell shifting and growing.

Why was Sam taking so long? I was beginning to question the reliability of his system when I popped into the stasis chamber. Sam greeted me with concern lining his brow.

His gaze darted over me. "You okay? You sounded worried in there."

I blinked, my shoulders relaxing. The air was much cooler here than in the cell.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine." I nodded.

I had just overreacted, instantly jumping to a conclusion I had only ever been told about. But Dream was still the one locked up in the most secure cell. He was obviously capable of a few things. So maybe I had gotten too comfortable like Sam had warned me about.

Even then, I couldn't understand why Dream's mood had shifted so quickly. He had somehow become nervous—or defensive. Would he possibly be hiding something? That didn't make sense. All we had talked about was fruit. And he technically didn't 'talk'. Would our conversation have triggered something?

Still, there was something off. Something going on with him that I didn't know about.

I glanced at Sam as he scanned his keycard and pushed a button. He didn't seem at all concerned about Dream's wellbeing—as if this was a normal occurrence. So if there really was a problem, why hadn't anyone noticed by now?