Sighing deeply, Dream rested his head against the door.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he sunk down to the floor. His cape—the flag, the one possession that he refused to ever lose—stuttered a little, bunching up. Even with his eyes closed he could still sense your aura, the bright gold that could have blinded anyone when you first saw him come in.
Your aura had always been light, or had always strived to be. Radiant and pure, he had naturally grown towards you. His accuracy would grow, his HP would spike, his very SOUL would pulse with energy. It was rare to find someone like you.
And yet.
Groaning, Dream dragged himself down the stairs of your cozy home. It glowed with happy memories and good feelings, a perfectly fine home.
He couldn't take that away from you. He just couldn't. That would be cruel.
Ink was leaning on the dining table, eyes flickering from teal to deep crimson to canary yellow. Noticing the guardian's entrance, he gave a half smile. Dream has always seen the artist's aura as muted, as if it didn't live up to its potential. Whenever possible, he'd feed positive feelings into the shell to make him feel better.
He wished he could do that to himself.
"Hey Dream," the artist called, "How'd it go? With (Y/N)?"
Dream exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple with a gloved hand. "Fine. It went... fine. It's fine."
Ink frowned. "That's not a very 'Dream-y' response."
Smiling apologetically, the guardian adjusted his cape nervously. "It went great, actually. They're able to heal themselves at a moment's notice. It's comforting to know that they can mend their wounds..."
He trailed off, fiddling with the edge of his cape. There really wasn't any reason to hold back from one of his best friends. "...Ink, do you ever feel fear?"
The artist blinked before resting his head on his hands. "Meh. There was one time I accidentally drank an dark orange EV." He shuddered. "I had to wait a few days before I could sleep again. Even so, the traces of that feeling was bitter and salty. Fear isn't the best thing. Why?"
Dream put his hands on his table, putting his forehead on the surface. The clock ticked for a moment or two before he was able to work up his confession. "Ink... I'm scared."
He sucked in a breath. "...I'm sorry?"
The guardian turned his head to the artist, pupils watery. "Don't be sorry. It's just... Blueberry. He's hurt. I couldn't do anything. I felt so useless. And now he's in the recovery wing and his brother's going to panic and his brother—his brother—his—"
Dream gasped for air, feeling his SOUL shiver with all of the negative energy. After fumbling with his shirt for a few moments his hands went instinctively to his cape. Clutching it as tightly as he possibly could, he brought the golden fabric up to his face. Inhaling deeply, he caught faint traces of rain and myrrh in the fabric. For some reason, the scent still lingered 100 years after the event. He valued the flag above all other things. It made him feel brave and protected.
Ink nodded slowly, respecting his moment. After Dream had calmed down, he said, "Blue... I'm sure we'll find a way to cure him. That spell can't possibly last forever. Besides, that other (Y/N)—whoever they were—cant be that good at magic."
Dream sighed, still holding the yellow fabric tightly between his fingers. "But what about (Y/N)? If the others get ideas about them, they'll—" He gulped. "They could kill them. Or worse. Ink. You have to understand."
The artist blinked before cocking his head to the side. "Understand what?"
The guardian inhaled deeply, his aura shrinking in on itself for a moment. A beat of silence passed.
"...We can't let (Y/N) come with us."
Ink folding his fingers under his chin, face slightly fallen. It felt like a huge hole had been ripped inside of Dream's chest. He felt something foreign creeping into his mind. "...I see," Ink murmured softly, eyes turning sympathetic. "I understand. I understand how hard this will be on you. And them."
Tears pricked at the corners of Dream's eye sockets. "I-I've never done this before. How... How am I supposed to tell them now?"
"Don't tell them now, tell them later," the artist smiled gently. "Tell them when they're ready—"
"BUT I'M NOT READY!" Dream slammed his hands on the table, curling them into fists. Yellow smoke seeped from his eye sockets as his SOUL ached with the unfamiliar feeling. "I'M NOT READY TO JUST LET THEM GO! WHAT IF I CAN'T SAVE THEM, INK!? WHAT THEN!? WHAT IF I CAN'T SAVE THEM LIKE HOW I COULDN'T SAVE—LIKE I COULDN'T... s-save..."
He collapsed on the table as Ink rushed over. His shell cracked slightly as his essence tried to escape. What felt like hours of silence passed before the protector of the multiverse heard a tiny whisper.
"...Ink, w-what if... what if I can't save them like I couldn't save Nightmare?"
Ink hugged his friend closer, words failing. He tried to find the right words, and they came out as, "Dream, you're doing the best you can. You're thinking of them. This isn't outside of your control. We can help them. Save them before they get too hurt."
Dream sniffed, lifting his head a little. "...OK. I... I can't try my best. I can protect (Y/N). I'll save them."
Ink's mouth curved into a half smile. "You should get some rest. It's been a hell of a day. You deserve some sleep."
The guardian collected himself, trying to stand tall. "Thank you, Ink," he confided, patting his shoulder. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Anytime," the artist called, painting a streak of blue on the wooden floor. "I'll be with Blueberry in the Sanctuary. See you soon?"
Dream smiled, his aura beginning to grow back. "See you soon."
As he disappeared through the paint splash, Dream descended into thought. There was no easy way to break it to you, yet he didn't want to break your heart.
There was only one thing that he could do.
Taking a deep breath, Dream started climbing the stairs.
He needed you to boost his magic. He needed some of your energy to reach out again.
He needed to talk to the Tree of Life.