Dream still wasn't back yet. It was long dark by now, the dishes from dinner on the sink, his plate left untouched in the fridge, wrapped in foil and depressingly intact. Eret is sitting at the bench, Punz is off doing something and Sapnap is asleep. I'm curled up on the couch, watching the front door like a caged up tiger waiting for my release.
"Where'd he go?" I ask.
Eret shrugs half-heartedly. "He talked about having some maintenance in one of the fishing villages, but I'm not sure."
There's a pause, and I just keep staring at that fucking door.
"If I ran out the door right now, would you actually chase me down?"
Eret sets down the book he was reading, and I can feel the disapproval radiating from behind his glasses. "Why are you asking me that?"
"Would you though?"
"Do I need to get Punz?"
"Eret, if I ran, would you stop me?"
"Stop Ro."
"Answer the question." We're both staring at each other now, thinly veiled animosity and silent pleading. "Would you? Would you drag me back here even though all I want is to go back home, would you keep me being held hostage here? Would you chose Dream over what I want? Would you Eret?"
"I'm getting Punz."
"You're ridiculous." I shake my head, laughing to myself. "You're the actual traitor, and I'm the one that gets punished for it. You kept saying sorry Eret, and I believed you, except you betray me at every chance you get, all for Dream."
"Ro-"
"No, tell me Eret, I'd love to know why I deserve to be locked up here like Dream's fucking prized possession, like I'm not an actual person with fucking feelings."
"Where is this coming from?"
"Where is it coming from?!" My eyes widen almost comically, and I stare at him in disbelief. "Oh I don't know Eret, maybe I'm at the end of my fucking rope."
"Does this have something to do with you and Punz?"
"No Eret, it has something to do with me being a human being who wants her own personal agency."
"If it does, I'm going to have to tell Dream."
"Fuck you." I scowl.
"What is it then?"
I stand up abruptly. "You're so pathetic. You choose him, and his need to own me, like I'm some fucking prize that he can win, like I'm his fucking toy that he can't share, over how I feel Eret. Every single time, it's always him, Dream over me. Stop pretending like you care about me. You don't."
"I do." Eret says quietly.
"Then show it Eret, because I'm getting sick of this nice little act you put on, this game we play where we pretend like you haven't done the things you've done, and that we're all okay."
"The things I've done?" He repeats. "You don't need to bring that up, that's unnecessary."
"This isn't about L'manburg Eret!" I say frustratedly, and I want to punch him in the face. "This is about the fact that you're helping Dream hold me hostage, you lied to my face about my family being alive because he told you too, you're siding with him at every turn even though he's not in the fucking right and you know it."
"I don't-"
"Listen to me Eret! Can you just fucking listen?" I'm practically pleading, yelling over the top of what he tries to say. "I don't want this. I want to go home. I want my family."
"I-"
"Say no Eret." I say, much more quietly. "Go on, tell me that I can't, tell me about how you're going to make sure I'm kept fucking captive here so I can't get any of those things, tell me about how it's because Dream said so. I mean what? Are you his bitch or something? Why do you do everything he says like an obedient fucking dog?"
"Rosemary." Eret voice shakes, and I want to laugh.
"Eret." I mimic, smiling mockingly. "What? It's true."
"What is going on with you?"
I roll my eyes, opening up my arms in a sarcastic display. "Going on with me? This is me Eret, in case you haven't realised, I'm a little fucked up now. Thank you for that by the way."
"I- I didn't-"
"Well, it was mainly Dream, you know that whole mastermind, god complex, control issue he has, but you certainly played your part Eret." I cackle. "Oh, you played that role enthusiastically."
"Stop." He whispers.
"Why?" I look at him expectantly, but I don't get a response, just a frozen figure sitting on a stool. "You didn't, not when I asked you to stop manipulating me for Dream, or when I asked you to fucking stop holding me captive. Both times actually."
I continue on in his silence. "Why do you deserve to be listened too, when you've made it abundantly clear, I mean all of you have, that I don't. That my feelings aren't worthwhile or valuable, that I shouldn't be considered. You all seem to be okay with making decisions for me, so why should I now listen to you?"
"I do care about you, I do love you, and I'm sorry. I know I was wrong-"
"Eret I do not know how to make it clearer to you that I literally don't care. Like at all. Your words don't mean anything, you know that right? You have given me no reason to believe you. You're not sorry. If you were actually sorry, if you actually cared about me, if you actually loved me, you'd let me go. Stop saying shit that means nothing, I'm tired of hearing it."
I turn, walking towards my bedroom. "Goodnight Eret."
I get ready for bed, brushing my teeth and washing my face. I'm in my pyjamas already, so I just slide into bed, staring at the far wall. I feel like this place is making me go even crazier, like the very walls are closing in, my prison growing smaller and smaller, and my instincts fighting like a feral animal to be let out.
I wonder about Tommy, Wilbur and Niki, all alone, out in the middle of god knows where, nobody left to help them, no home, nothing. I never thought I'd miss Tommy's annoying habit of constantly updating me on his day, or Wilbur's habit of lecturing me about things, but I'd give anything for Tommy to tell me about the snail he found on his walk home, or to hear Wilbur's voice drone on about safety or something stupid. Niki of course, is perfect, so I just miss her.
I would have thought it'd hurt, Eret choosing Dream over me like that, time and time again, after everything we'd gone through together, the times in L'manburg before Dream, and war, and the whole awful mess of today. But it doesn't, not the way it should. There's no fire, not anger, none of the sharp gripping pain that accompanies heartbreak, it's just the dull, depressing exhaustion of expected betrayal. It's not disappointment, because I knew a long time ago, that I just wasn't worth him protecting.
That's okay. I can protect myself. I will protect myself.
The thump from the living room shakes me out of my reflection, and I shoot up. I heard Eret go to bed a while ago, so it's probably not him. I can hear the person stumbling around, quiet thuds muffled by the walls between.
I creep out of my room, the living room light is on and I have to squint against the violently bright light. By the time I make it down the hallway, I realise who it is.
"Dream?"
He's covered in fucking blood.
Like a lot of blood. A disturbing amount of blood.
"Rosie!" He grins upon seeing me, giant grin on face, way too loud and oddly slurred. He almost trips over his own feet trying to come near me, and I can smell the stench of alcohol radiating off him.
"Are you drunk right now?" I look him up and down, the blood smeared on his forehead and chin, splashed over his white shirt and all over the mask that's sitting on top of his forehead. It doesn't look like its his.
That could be good or bad. I don't know yet.
"Maybe." He says, still grinning.
"Who's blood it that?"
"It's not mine."
"What the fuck did you do?" I hiss, crossing my arms.
"Some fucking villagers tried to overthrow me!" He explains, in outrage. "They actually thought they could do it." He's laughing now, almost smiling at the apparent memory.
"I dealt with them, and then I went to the bar. Pretty good day."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." I snap. "You executed some villagers who were probably rightfully trying to overthrow you, okay, but then you went and got drunk? You're lucky they didn't kill you when your guard was down."
He scoffs. "They couldn't if they tried, nobody fucking can."
I roll my eyes. "Okay buddy, I'm sure they can't."
"They've all tried." The unsettling grin spreads back over his face. "And they fail every single time."
"That's great Dream." I respond tiredly. "Go to bed before you wake the entire house up."
"You wanna come with me?" He garbles, eyes half lidded.
"Absolutely not." I say, eyeing up the red stains on his shirt. "You need to shower before you go to sleep too, do not sleep in some random strangers blood."
I barely make it back to my room before a hear a giant crash, right near my door. When I walk out, Dream is sprawled out on the floor before his room, the door wide open.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't get in my room." He says, still lying on the ground.
"Get up." I sigh, trying to tug his arm, but I just flops limply down by his side with a groan. "Dream, I'm serious, get the fuck up."
I grip the back of his shirt, pulling back with all my weight, but it barely shifts him, he just makes an incomprehensible noise, face down on the floor.
I grab his ankle, awkwardly dragging him through the doorway, he's really fucking heavy, but I manage to get him all the way inside. I drop his leg with a huff, trying to stretch out my lower back, which I think I've probably just strained from the effort it fucking required just to get him in his room.
"C'mon." I nudge him with my foot. "Get up."
"No." He whines. "It's comfy."
"You are covered in blood, you need to take a shower."
"Don't care."
"You should, that's disgusting." I look down at him with my hands on my hips. "I'm going to get Punz, isn't he on shift?"
"No I told him to go to bed, I got it."
"You absolutely do not have it." I arch an eyebrow. "I bet if I ran now you'd probably pass out halfway there."
"I'd catch you." He mumbles. "I can't let you go."
"I think if you tried hard enough you'd find that you can." I mutter to myself, kicking him a little harder in his side.
"Ow Rosie." He complains. "That hurt."
"Dream get the fuck up."
He groans in response, and I'm faced with the reality that he's not going to be able to move on his own volition, and leaving him here would probably lead to him either choking on vomit in his sleep or contracting some blood born disease from his soaked clothes.
"Okay." I massage my temples, trying to work out the dull headache I'm getting from realising the work I'm going to have to do. "Give me a second."
I head into the bathroom and grab a washcloth and a towel, and sit down next to Dream on the floor. After some effort, I manage to roll him onto his back. I fill a bowl with water, setting it down next to us, and then half pull, half rip his shirt off him.
Given the fact that he is not cooperating with me at all, it's a miracle I got it off.
"Why did you have to get drunk?" I lament, wringing out the cloth, and rolling up my sleeves.
"Shit day." Dream grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.
"It can't have been that bad." I pull one of his arms into my lap, scrubbing off the dried blood, that's caked on his skin, trailed up his forearms and in between the grooves of his fingernails.
"George hasn't talked to me in days." He says quietly. "I went to see him at his new place but he told me to leave him alone."
I frown. "Why?"
"I don't fucking know." Dream slurs out, trying to gesture with the hand I'm currently trying to clean. "I got him in power and he wants to treat me like this? He owes me."
"There's probably your first hint." I say dryly, grabbing his other arm. "You need to start understanding healthy relationships."
He grunts in response, watching as I wring out the cloth in the bowl, and then resume my furious scrubbing, turning the skin an angry pink.
"How many?"
"What?"
"How many people did you kill?"
He shrugs half heartedly. "Fucking- uh I don't know, like seven."
"You got attacked by seven people?"
"It was three."
I stop, looking at him. "Really?"
"What?"
"Why are four other people dead?"
"I needed to send a message."
"I think drinking all their alcohol drenched in the blood of three people would have been more than enough."
"Well I wanted it to be effective."
"I am not even going to begin to explain to you how dumb that sounds." I say, dropping his arm and tugging him onto his side.
He absentmindedly fiddles with the leg of my flannel pyjama pants, while I clean off his neck.
"These are my pants." He grumbles, and I have to take a deep breath in to prevent myself from wrapping this cloth around his throat and strangling him right here on the floor, and in this state, I'd probably back myself with a chance.
"Good for you."
"Are you done? I'm tired." He complains in a sleepy voice, rubbing his eye.
"N- Dream." I huff in exasperation, grabbing his head to pull it into my lap. "It's in your hair, seriously?"
The blood has congealed, thick dried clumps tangled in his hair, that's going to be a pain to get out.
"Okay Dream." I say, in the same soft, gentle tone I use with particularly difficult children when I worked at the medical centre in L'manburg. "We're going into the bathroom, okay?"
He groans loudly in annoyance, but staggers to his feet, draping himself over me. I half support, half carry him to the bathroom, where he collapses down next to the wall. I go and grab a chair from the table in his room, setting it up in front of the sink and guide him into it.
I tilt his head back, letting the tap soak his hair, and then lathering my hands with shampoo, massaging it into his scalp. The white bubbles turn a pale pink, diluted red streaks running down the sink. He keeps his eyes closed, face entirely at peace while I wash out his hair.
It's so nauseatingly domestic, so stiflingly normal, that it feels wrong for us to be doing it.
I guess that's a testimony to the state of us.
I finish washing all the blood off, towel drying his hair, and then leaving him in the bathroom with a clean white singlet and pair of grey shorts to get changed in. I leave the bloody mask on the table, because I've had enough dealing with blood for one night, and throw his old shirt in the bin, before sitting cross legged on his bed, waiting for him to come out.
Eventually he does, tossing his pants on top of a random chest, then flopping on the bed next to me. He lays his head on my lap, tracing circles onto my knee with his finger. I don't move.
"I miss you." He admits suddenly, so quietly I barely catch it.
"I see you everyday Dream." I say, even though I know exactly what he means, what he's trying to say.
Fuck.
I hate moments when he's like this. When he's so wonderfully, beautifully normal, like we're a boring, loving couple lying in bed together. Like there isn't years of hatred behind us, and the ugly scars of war, like there isn't invisible wounds that sting in the dead of night, like there isn't layers of grief and betrayal and hurt burying everything down so deeply, like we aren't the most eternally fucked up people in the world, in the most eternally fucked up relationship we could be in.
Because when he's like this, just Dream, not the leader of the Greater SMP, not the scary monster behind the white mask, not the horrible deformed figure in my nightmares. He's just the man I fell in love with, in what feels like centuries ago.
Like fungus on a window, Dream's still infecting my brain. Contaminating my thoughts, and my feelings, and everything I have with left over notions of love still lingering when we were both different people.
I don't know if Dream was ever truly different, but there was at least truth the the person I loved, back then. Not now, not unless he's drunk, or tiny glimmers in unguarded moments that pass before he has a chance to realise, and I have a chance to hold onto it.
I want him back so badly it fucking hurts.
And I hate that even more.
"I miss you so much." His murmurs snap me out of my own head, as he tilts his head up to lock his eyes with mine, and I can sense smell of apples and detergent and still the faintest hint of smoke, and I want to cry.
I won't. But I want to.
I want to cry for everything that I've lost.
My Mum, my Dad, my old family and that life, Jack, Dream, us.
And L'manburg. I lost L'manburg. I lost what it truly was, back when Fundy was Wilbur's son and Eret was the best builder we'd ever had. Back when Tommy and Tubbo would run rings around me, shallow walls, a beat out van, a messy family bubbling with life.
"Hey." Dream's voice is so gentle, and it just makes it all the more painful, because he sounds like he used to and for a stupid, naive second, I had hoped it was him again. "You still here?"
I nod, pressing my lips together furiously. He's gone, he's gone and I will never get him back, and the longer I pretend, the longer I play stupid little dances with him is the longer I'm going to prolong the inevitable wave of awful realisation that's going to crash over me.
But he had been right, on the night on the couch. It is nice to pretend.
"I can't sleep anymore." His voice is tinier than I've ever heard, and he's so fucking human that it hurts, not the monster under the bed that I can twist into the demon in my mind. It's confronting, and wrong, and jarring to the core. "I- I haven't since you left, the first time."
I remember his nightmares, the desperate way he clung onto me in his sleep, beads of sweat plastering stands of hair to his creased forehead, the occasional nights he would bolt upright, eyes hollowed with dread, lit alight by terror. I remember the quiet whimpers, and the pleading in the dead of the night, and the way he sounded so scared my heart would break.
I didn't know that they came back.
"I'm sorry." I whisper. I don't know if I'm lying or not.
"I need you." He breathes, and I can feel him trembling, just the smallest bit. "I can't live without you."
"You have to." I draw circles on his cheek with the pad of my thumb, and it feels so unusually familiar to have his face in my hands, like this, quiet houses and dark rooms, moonlight streaming in through the windows and coating the peaks of his face is a pale glow, sinking the valleys in deep shadows.
I don't mention that I don't know whether I would be able to either. I don't want it to be like that, if I had my choice I'd severe the ties I have with him, leave behind this complicated, tangled mess and go and live my life how I want to, but life doesn't work that way. The reality is, I've never considered a life where Dream wasn't in it. Whether he's playing the villain or the love of my life, he's always been there, somehow, somewhere. I don't know what it would be like if I didn't have him.
"I can't." His voice breaks, and I think my heart does too. "I love you so much, I need you Rosie. I need you."
"You don't." I brush my thumb over the bridge of his nose. "You think you do, because you're too scared to face the world without me, but I promise you will be fine, you will be."
He shakes his head, wide eyes and skin even paler in the cold washed light of the moon. "I cut everything off, I cut everyone off so that I would be untouchable, but still- still you- I couldn't let go. I can't. And I lie, and I pretend, but you're my weakness Rosie, you're my weakness."
"That's not love." I say kindly, trailing my touch just under the bags of his eyes, right on the edge of sharp bone. "Dream, that's not love. You're scared, you see me as a flaw, and you don't want anybody to use that against you."
I cock my head, brushing his barely damp hair off his temples. "You need to let me go, so we can both be happy."
"You are the best thing about my life." My hand freezes. "You're not- you're not a flaw Rosie, I love you, and I love every single part of loving you, I want to protect you. I'm scared of you getting hurt, or something tearing us apart. It's not you."
"That's-"
"You love me too."
Whatever I was going to say dies on my lips.
"Please don't lie to me." He pleads, tears welling up in his eyes. "Don't lie."
"I can't in the way you want me to." I whisper. "I'll never be able to."
"I just want you to be safe."
"I need to live. I love you, despite everything, I still do, but I have to live my life. I need my family, and my home, and I need to live. You're not letting me do that."
"We could work it out."
"We tried. Maybe- maybe later on, when I've really healed from everything, but right now it's all too fresh, and I'm still so hurt. I'm still hurting Dream, and I can't do it. I can't love you."
"But you do." His voice cracks slightly, and it hurts even more.
"But I can't. I need to look after myself." I gently try and ease him off my lap, but he grips onto my arms tightly.
"Don't leave." He begs. "Please."
"Dream-"
"Please don't. Don't leave me."
I brush a stray little tear that falls past his eyelashes, sighing. He's still needled into my heart, an infestation or simply a part of me right down to my core. I don't know. I don't think it matters at this point.
"Okay."
I'm just as weak as I always was. I should have left him, bloodied and passed out right on his fucking doorstep, I should be praying that he chokes on his own vomit in his sleep, but I'm not. I still care, still love, still stupid and naive and pathetic.
I can't stop it, and it will destroy me. This love will destroy me.
I let him lean against my shoulder, cocoon himself around me, solid arm slung over my waist, cotton bedsheets and body warmth, and everything that reminds me of before Schlatt, and before Fundy, before the end of the war.
How is it that a war seems so simple in comparison to now?
I let him fall asleep curled into me, silent and still, dreamless sleep and peace for the first time in over a year, but I don't fall asleep in his bed, I don't close my eyes and give in to the piece of me that's still clinging onto to the facades of the past.
Tonight, I loved him too much to leave.
Which is exactly why I have to.
I wrap myself in a jumper, putting on tracksuit pants, changing my shirt and slipping on runners. I fill a backpack with on the med packs I have, sliding one of the daggers I took tip toeing out of Dream's room into the waistband. I shove toiletries and a water bottle in my pack, along with another change of clothes and underwear. I can hear my heart thumping in my head, and yeah, I didn't plan this well enough at all, and I feel like a deer being hunted, one tiny little disturbance from snapping and bolting.
I walk silently to Sapnap's room, pushing the door open. Sapnap's dead to the world, curled up in his bed.
"Sapnap." I whisper, nudging him. He doesn't move.
"Sapnap." I shove him even harder, which finally wakes him up.
"WH-" I clap a hand over his mouth.
"Sh it's me. You need to be quiet." He nods, and I take my hand off.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to go Sapnap, I need to get out of here."
"Okay." He sits up, clutching at his sleep mussed hair. "Uh okay, give me a sec, I've been working on a plan-"
"I'm leaving now." I interrupt. "I came to say goodbye."
"Let me get dressed." He goes to stand up, but I push him back down.
"No, no you can't come with me, I don't want you to get in trouble with Dream. I don't want anyone too. And- he needs someone, he needs you there with him, you're his best friend."
"I was, you know it's not the same anymore."
"He's still going to need someone, and mainly I don't want him to take his anger out on you when he finds out I'm gone."
He looks at me knowingly.
"I know. I know, just- a lot's happened, and I have a lot of feelings and I can't stay here, I just can't."
"You don't owe him love."
"I don't, I just love him. And it's tearing me apart."
He wraps his arms around my neck, and I bury my face in his shoulder.
"Thank you." I whisper. "Thank you for everything."
"Make sure you find Wilbur and Tommy, stay safe."
"I will." He pulls back, grabbing my face in his hands.
"I love you, don't forget that."
I smile sadly. "I won't, I promise. I love you too."
It's not a goodbye, and certainly not forever, it's just an acknowledgement that things are going to be messed up for a while. We'll find each other again. Soon.
I creep into the living room, reaching the front door, and adrenaline is buzzing like electricity in my veins, running up my arms like a live wire, my fingers shaking, arms jumping with twitching anxiety. I'm turning the lock, when footsteps force my heart nearly straight out of my throat.
I whip around, frozen in fear, heart pounding so heavily in my chest, I feel light-headed.
It's Punz.
Oh god.
Oh fuck.
We're both silent, still statutes with wide eyes, locked on the other.
This is it. I'm fucked. He's going to grab me, and then I'm going to be on lock down for the rest of my fucking life, and Dream is never even going to let me out of the house again. Ever. I'm going to die, in this house, trapped here.
He's right in front of me, eyes darting down to the back pack, and the fact that I'm fully dressed, before flicking to the front door. Then he leans in and kisses me.
His hands cup my cheek gently, lips pressed against mine for a mere second before he pulls back.
"I'm sorry." He breathes out. "That was me being selfish."
I'm left gobsmacked, lips parted open, still completely frozen, eyes flickering from his earnest ones, to the lips that I can still feel on mine, the warm, rough hand on my cheek.
"Good luck Rosie." He says quietly, before simply turning around and walking out of the room.
It takes a couple seconds to sink in, and then I slip out the door, right into the dead of night, feet flying though grasses and tree roots and shrubs.
Punz let me go.
And I set myself free.
---------
A/N Well, there you have it. Rosie choosing herself, like a bad bitch in the end.
I would love to talk to you guys about all the character stuff in this chapter, because this one took a lot of planning and editing and re drafting to properly get all the character nuances conveyed in the way that I wanted it, but I am very tired and it's all going to come out as incomprehensible gibberish, however I would love to hear your thoughts if you have any!!
Look at me update at my usual consistency, don't say I don't love you all.
I hope you guys enjoyed,
Oopsies x