Dreaming of Demons (Dream x oc)

[47] Nightmares

I let Dream take the extra bedroom upstairs, the one Karl used to have before he let me take ownership of his bamboo house. It wasn't a surprise when Dream slept for the rest of the day. It made me wonder how long it had been since the last time he had truly slept.

The exhaustion from the battle earlier that day had settled in my body quickly, and I took a few naps here and there. I expected people to come knocking on my door, asking about Dream and what had happened, but the house stayed quiet throughout the day. Before I knew it, the sun had set, and the moon took its place in the sky.

But I couldn't seem to get any more sleep. I tossed and turned, staring at the dark ceiling above me. Finally after squeezing my eyes shut for the twentieth time, I drifted off into the dark.

The darkness quickly swallowed me into a nightmare. It was the Dreamon again, his voice circling around me, coming from all directions. I was in a forest, and there was movement all around me. The rustling of bushes. The sounds of footsteps. I couldn't tell where the Dreamon was and I was too scared to try running off. I didn't want to run right into him. But I didn't even need to move as the sound of footsteps rushed up behind me and it was already too late.

I jolted awake, my bedsheets gripped tightly in my hand, my heart beating so hard it almost hurt.

I took a minute or two to calm myself, glancing around the room to find it as quiet as ever. I was fine, I was okay. I just needed to clear my head. Get a glass of water or something. Anything other than sitting here in my bed.

I swept the covers away from my legs and got up. Treading softly out of my room, I entered the kitchen, spotting Dream's mask on the counter.

I froze, cold fear washing over me. My gaze darted around to look for him in the shadows huddling in my house, but...my brain caught up and I pressed myself back against the wall, breathing steadily. The Dreamon wasn't here. He was gone. I was the one who had fixed that, so why had I freaked out so much?

I reached forward to flip the mask over, feeling a little better once I did so. Something thumped upstairs, and I glanced up to the ceiling quizzically. Was Dream awake?

Another sound, but this time it was different, like a cry.

I moved quietly, listening for more sounds as I put a foot on the first step of the staircase. The stairwell was dark and I could barely make out the bedroom door at the top. But another desperate sound from the room floated down, and that was enough to move me up the stairs.

The door was cracked open just a sliver and I suddenly felt out of place, standing at the top of the stairs. I probably shouldn't be doing this. I should just leave him alone, give him space.

But now I could clearly hear how quick he was breathing, fear evident in the way it sounded.

"Please, stop." His voice was muffled, full of pain. "Stop, stop, stop..."

Over and over, he repeated the same word, his breathing only catching faster and faster. I could hear him moving, the bedsheets shifting as he most likely tossed and turned.

I pushed the door open, barely registering the creak it made. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him curled up in the bed. His hands were clutching his head, his eyes squeezed shut, and his face pulled into an intense expression of pain. He was still muttering the words, pleading, trying to fight something I could not see.

I rushed over to him, kneeling beside his bed. There was an overturned cup on the floor near the bedside table. That must have been the thump I heard earlier.

I put a hand on top of one of Dream's hands. His skin was hot, and his hair was disheveled, some of the strands sticking to his forehead. He was still wearing his hoodie, and I could only imagine how warm he was in heavy clothes like that, even with his covers kicked off.