They left for the debate hours ago. Despite the dealing with the whole morning of pleading (and thinly veiled threats from Tommy) me and Niki stayed behind, lounging peacefully by the lake. I've probably had enough of conflict and fighting for the rest of my life.
The late afternoon sun has lost its ferocity, instead basking the rolling green plains with golden warmth, a final rich yellow against the deep shadows cast by the trees. The lake shimmers in its dark depths, mud floor hidden by the masses of cold water that ripple and swirl in hypnotising ways.
It pulls my eyes to it, searching through the water at the fish and rocks that it contains, head resting on Niki's stomach as she dozes off, back flat on the soft earth and velvet grass.
The world is still. And calm. And peaceful. I let myself enjoy a moment suspended in time, a mere trespasser on an ever present force of nature, a mere speck in its eyes. I always have to remind myself that things will end. That I am only here for the tiniest amount of time compared to this earth itself. The infinite, careless world, and the selfish, young being.
The reminder never stings like it used to.
I think I've made peace with the thought a time when I've moved on.
They return just at dusk, when the sun starts to dip below the horizon, withdrawing the last tendrils of glowing heat from the land, disappearing behind the edge of the world and blurry, muted blue sky. It leaves wispy traces of vibrant pink and orange, that seem almost too float in the sky, streaky trails of the day all that is left.
Time passes. Just as it does.
I can tell before they even reach us at the van, the rage that's written all over their features, the hatred that clings onto them, curls their fists into balls, pinches in their cheeks.
"Hey! How'd it go?" Niki asks from beside me.
Wilbur sighs, just as Tommy launches into a tirade. "They're all fucking stupid, the lot of them! They said we were corrupt! Those fucking smug little bastards said we were corrupt! I swear if I ever have a sword near one of them- well you know what I'd do. If I ever see Gogy's stupid fucking face again I'm going to punch it in."
I blink, trying to get my brain to process the avalanche of information that Tommy just dumped onto me. "Tommy- Tommy hey! Calm down. Tell me exactly what happened."
Wilbur rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. "They said we were corrupt because we called the election for ourselves. They said we were against freedom and for violence and control, apparently we're outdated and restrictive and the worst thing possible for this country."
"Corrupt? Are you fucking kidding me!" I say in disbelief.
"They said that we incited the violence that lead to the war." Wilbur concludes, mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Our fault!? Our fucking fault? George knows what happened! He knows what the- he did to me! How is any of that my fucking fault?" I yell, and I can feel the heat rise to my face, and feel my heart pounding in my temples. That's when I notice the cut on Tommy's shoulder, the flap of blue uniform that hangs down, shredded, soaked in blood.
"What happened to your shoulder?" I gasp in horror, running to him and examining it. It's a shallow wound, barely even bleeding anymore. I doubt it'll even scar. What I'm more concerned about is how he got it. It's very fucking clean, like it's from an axe or sword.
"Dream didn't like what I said in the debate." He shrugs, then winces. "George threatened me, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut."
I'm going to burn the Dream SMP to the fucking ground.
Fistful of Tommy's shirt, I wordlessly march to the medical bay, ignoring the loud protests and variety of creative language that leaves his mouth, and sit him down on the hospital bed, pressing bandages into Niki's hands, who followed us along. I snatch up the axe that sits next to my bed and storm out back into the grounds.
"Rose! Rose wait I'm fine! It's just a little scratch, really, I'm ok! I'm sure he didn't even mean it." Tommy's panicked words rise up behind me, but I barely even hear them. I can only hear my own heartbeat thudding loudly in my temple, feel the red hot fire of pure rage light up my veins.
I'm at the courthouse before I know it, knuckles clenched white around the handle of my axe, storming determinedly in the direction of five figures in the distance. I close the distance quickly, and the only thing I can focus on is the desire to bury my axe in Dream's skull.
So much for missing him.
I hate him. I hate him so fucking much. I hate the way he messes with my head, and my heart. The way I can be so sure of my indifference and then he's there and I love him all over again. I hate how much I know he needs me, and how much I crave him. I hate how much I can never rid this love from myself, how his love brands me, how my love seems to cling on like a cancer. I hate him for all the reasons I love him and it hurts so fucking much. I beg for the times where I knew the sweet relief of cold indifference and the soothing blanket of not knowing.
And now he hurt Tommy, so I'm going to fucking kill him.
"Rosa!" Quackity calls excitedly, waving as he notices me. His face falls as I approach, and his eyes widen.
"Rosie?" Dream turns with a smile, mask tilted just above the tip of his nose.
"You fucking piece of shit!" I snarl, pointing the axe at him, loathing painted vividly on every one of my features. "What is your problem?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He asks in confusion. I let out a scoff of derision.
"Tommy. I'm fucking talking about Tommy, you dumb fucking asshole." I spit. "Tommy and the gaping wound you put in his shoulder."
It's Dream's turn to scoff, as he slips the mask down over his chin. He holds his hands out, palms raised defensively, shaking his head. "I barely even cut him, and you know that, otherwise you'd be in L'manburg with him." He steps forward, and I grip my fingers even more tightly around my axe. "He was getting out of control, I had to do something."
"He's a child. You sliced him like he's a pig." I says exasperatedly, almost in disbelief that he's trying to justify what happened.
"He needed to be reigned in." Dream counters, voice fighting to remain level.
"You're the one that's out of control. You didn't need to do anything." I tell him angrily. He laughs, but it's short and mocking, and I can feel the tiny, needlelike shivers of fear trace up my spine. It's like I've been hit in the face with cold water, the shocking realisation that this is exactly how I used to feel around him.
Scared. Powerless. Insignificant.
And I never want to feel those things again.
"I did. I always do, because you and your country can never seem to just play nice and behave." He says, voice laced with barely concealed frustration.
"Rosie, it's ok, it's just a little misunderstanding." George interrupts, before I can even process what Dream just said. I whip my head to him, swinging my axe with me.
"Shut the fuck up George." I snap, right eye twitching as a flare of irritation itches at the back of my neck. "You betrayed me. I thought you were my friend, and then you do this? After everything you did to L'manburg, after everything I forgave you for, you do this?"
"Rosie, I- I never meant for it like that." George pleads, Quackity nodding.
I let out a burst of my own harsh laughter. "Too late George. You did it, and that's what it is." I say simply, avoiding the emotion I know will result in a flood of tears. "I thought you were my friend, hell, I thought both of you were, but I guess I know now."
"Rosie, don't be dramatic, he didn't mean it." Dream says dismissively, as if he wasn't even fucking listening to me.
"Dramatic?" I repeat in stunned outrage. "Don't you ever fucking tell me how to feel. Ever!"
"When have I ever told you how to feel? Huh? When? You know, if I did, this would be a lot fucking easier. You're all over the place and I never know how you fucking feel. One day you miss me and want to hug me and the next you're calling me a piece of shit and pointing an axe at me. Are you ever going to make up you mind?" He snarls cruelly, and I feel as though I've just seen another side of him. A cruel, twisted inhumane side of him. The side that blew up Tubbo's house and L'manburg, and tried to kill all of us.
"Or am I going to have to spend the rest of my life waiting for you too?" He finishes, voice straining in frustration, chest heaving.
I blink, taking in a small breath like I'm trying to breath in the words. The keep bouncing in my skull, like I just absorbed them and never figured out what they meant. I stare at him wide eyed, Sapnap and Eret silent throughout all of this, George and Quackity open mouthed as they flick between the two of us. The words sink in, and the shock and pain hit me too, slamming at full force into my chest. I'm wounded and angry and shocked. I look back at him.
"You want me to make up my mind Dream? Yeah? Ok. We're fucking done. I'm done."
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A/N We're back baby! I adored writing this chapter, it felt like we're getting back to what this book is really about and I loved the anger I got to play out in this scene. I don't have much to say really, except for the fact that this is going to kickstart a new chapter for Dream and Rosie that I'm so excited to explore! (Villain Dream coming soon? Who knows...)
I'll be updating more frequently now. Unfortunately my sister had to spend some time in hospital (she's completely ok now) and some other messed up stuff has been dragging out over the past months but luckily It's all over now, and I'll be able to update at least a couple times a week.
Thank you guys so much for all your love and support,
I truly hope you enjoyed!
Oopsies x