Our Little Toys

CHAPTER 38

TW: Violence, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of death, & guns/gun violence

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Nightmare entered Ink's room, well, it was technically Dream's room at the moment. Ink was sleeping in his arms, and Dream was sleeping on his bed, covered in blood and sewn together. He sighed, mentally cursing Killer for never taking care of their wounds. Though by the time he came downstairs the bleeding had already stopped and he was a lot better. Nightmare carefully placed the sleeping Ink back down on his bed, right next to Dream. He hoped he wouldn't be too mad when he woke up, Nightmare was very sure that he wouldn't be all too happy after Ink telling him that he was the reason Dream was still down here. But either way, he had work the next day, and didn't want to have to deal with Ink being clingy in the morning.

He kissed Ink's forehead before exiting the room quietly, leaving the two alone asleep together. Nightmare left, walking back upstairs to his bedroom. He wondered whether or not their activities from the earlier night had any real effect on him. More specifically, he wondered whether or not Ink had gotten pregnant from their activities. He continued wondering about his physical state, and the state of the small life that could be growing inside his small 'lover'.

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Dream slowly and painfully drifted into consciousness. Well, the second he woke up, it was more like he was being ripped back into the waking world. It all just hurt so much, his chest, his arms. He just wanted to fall asleep again, but with how much pain he was in there was no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep. Dream rolled himself on his back, and he carefully pushed his arms together so as to not rip his arms apart any longer. His eyes hesitantly opened when he felt movement at his side. He prayed that he wouldn't see Killer or Nightmare laying at his side, part of him even hoped that Ink wouldn't even be at his side. No matter who he turned to see, he would not be happy.

Dream looked over to see the back of Ink's head. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillows, trying to stop the tears in his eyes from falling. He loved his friend so damn much, but he couldn't look at him anymore. He was scared that if he looked in his eyes that it would be so much more real. He was scared that if he looked in his eyes he wouldn't see his friend, he wouldn't see the man he adored, the man who took care of him through all his mental health crises, the man he would do anything for. No, he would see the man who was broken, who had been frayed at the edges, the man who made it so that he would continue to be tortured.

It wasn't his fault that he was raped, or tortured, not directly anyways. Yes, he may not have known what would happen to him exactly, but he knew. He knew that Dream would be tortured, and hurt after trying to escape, but he didnt care. He thought Ink was selfish, keeping him here for his own personal vendetta. He knew he was also being selfish, hating someone who had done so much for him, but the man at his side wasn't his friend. It was someone else, not the man who sacrificed his entire life for him.

Dream couldn't help but hate him. Like he was some imposter inhabiting his friend's body, forcing him to make these choices. But he knew that if he looked into Ink's eyes then he would know that this was actually just his friend. His friend who had been tortured into a whole new person, it was like every little instinct he had was just gone. Anything that Nightmare said, Ink took as fact, and he hated how suggestable he could be.

But Dream was just too hurt to even consider Ink as a friend right now. It was just that much easier to not think of him as his friend that he's known for as long as he could remember. It was so hard to even think about the idea of someone who took better care of him than his own family throwing everything away and allowing, no, enabling him to be tortured like this.