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When Dream was younger, his favorite thing used to be a hug from his mom.
Puffy hadn’t been a captain back then- just a single mom, working at a port to support her son. On weekends when she wasn’t working, she would bring Dream to the port, and they would sit there on the docks together, watching the ships come and go. Puffy would point out all the different parts of the vessels, and Dream would listen in fascination.
“I want to go on a ship like that one day,” he’d say every time, and Puffy would laugh and pull him closer. She always smelled like sea salt, and her strong arms would always grip him in a tight, protective hug.
“Me too, duckling,” she’d say. He hadn’t known how much she’d meant it until much later.
Puffy was busy often, but that didn’t change the fact that for the first ten years of Dream’s life, she was a great mom. She would make him his favorite food- sweet berry pastries- whenever he had a bad day at school. At night, when it was time for bed, she would always tuck him in and give him a kiss and a hug. Her arms would encircle him, and he would feel, just for a moment, like everything would be okay. He’d snuggle into her embrace and let the warmth wash over him, soothing his nerves from the day.
Then, shortly after he’d turned ten, Puffy had bought a boat and made plans to go sailing with a crew. She promised him that she’d be back after a week or two, and when he’d cried, she’d swept him into a tight hug. It had been warm and safe and promising.
It had also been the last hug she would give him for a long, long time.
Things had been okay for the first week after she left. Dream had taken care of the household chores and used the stash of money Puffy had left to buy food for himself. He’d gone to school like normal, and at night, he would tuck himself in with the promise that his mom would come back soon.
But a week passed, and then two weeks, then three, and she still wasn’t back. Dream went to the docks to ask about her, but all he got was a man gruffly telling him that she was still out at sea. “Sailin’ around with her crew,” the man had said. “Dunno when she’ll be back.”
Dream had gone home and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders in an attempt to simulate the feeling of Puffy’s arms around him. It hadn’t worked, and he’d cried himself to sleep that night.
Puffy never did come back. As the months went by, Dream got used to taking care of himself. He made his own food, got a job to support himself when the savings started to run low, and ran the whole house. And yet, some small part of him continued to hope that one day, his mom would come back and hug him like she used to. The blankets just weren’t the same.
---
He still misses her hugs. She’d left him alone for nearly ten years and gotten another child; she’d disowned him and left him to rot in this obsidian cell- but he still misses her. He misses being able to bury his face in her chest, feel her arms around him, smell the salty sea air that always seemed to be lingering around her. When he’d made this server and she’d actually accepted his invite to join, when she’d met up with him in front of Niki’s bakery, when she’d hugged him for the first time in years and apologized for leaving him, he’d thought that everything would be okay again.
It hadn’t. Shortly after, Tommy and Wilbur had started that cursed drug empire, and Dream- Dream was forced to go to war. He was forced to pick up his axe and shield and defend his server. It was supposed to be his home, his safe place to live with his family. It wasn’t supposed to be just land to be fought over. But that’s what it became. The server divided, and its inhabitants fought over and over, spilling blood that stained the wooden paths crimson. His home became a battlefield, and he became a tyrant- a monster.
Most days, lying in the silence of his little cell, he regrets it. He regrets the discs, Spirit, everything. He regrets ever inviting Wilbur and Tommy. He regrets going to war over that stupid drug van. Maybe he should’ve just let them have it.
(But it was his land, his server. His home. It was only right that he defended it.)
More than anything, though, he regrets pushing everyone away. It was supposed to be a brilliant plan- no more attachments meant nothing and no one who could be used against him. He would establish his control again, and no one would be able to use anything else to taunt him again. There would be no more Spirits. No one would ever be able to hurt him. Most importantly, his friends wouldn’t be hurt. Sapnap and George would be safe, and he would be free to regain his server back. It was foolproof.
He hadn’t anticipated the crushing loneliness. He hadn’t anticipated the empty feeling inside him when he realized that he would likely never get a hug from Sapnap again. Punz was still there, but Punz wasn’t nearly as touchy. They were friends, sure, but not close enough for things like hugs. Besides, Punz was his employee first, his friend second. He couldn’t afford to get attached to his mercenary, couldn’t afford to let another person be taken away from him. After all, you couldn’t lose what you never had.
But he regrets it. He regrets it so, so much. At least before, he could talk to Punz, if not touch him. Here, he has no one. He’s surrounded by obsidian and lava and silence, and he’s alone. He used to have Hope, but then Tommy killed her, and now he’s alone again. Alone except for when Sir comes with his pickaxe and his shears to demand the revival book. It makes him wonder if any of this was really worth it.
The prison was supposed to be his master plan, but it doesn’t feel like a master plan anymore. It doesn’t feel like his best idea. It just feels like empty loneliness, a hollow pit in his chest. Despite the lava, it’s always cold, and the chill has long since sucked all the warmth from his body. He doesn’t feel like a human anymore- maybe because he’s not. Sir says that he’s a monster, and Sir is always right.
He’s a monster. A tyrant. And monsters and tyrants aren’t supposed to feel , aren’t supposed to yearn for affection that they don’t deserve.
(So why is he? Why is he still so, so lonely?)
---
Dream had met Sapnap when they were both eleven. He’d been at the market square, buying food for himself, when he’d heard shouting from an alleyway. He’d peeked his head in and saw three boys beating up a fourth. Dream had instantly dropped his basket of bread and eggs and ran to help, because what else was he supposed to do? He might have been an eleven-year-old boy with no mom, but he couldn’t just let someone get hurt.
He’d fought off all three boys himself, biting and scratching at them until they’d ran. Then he’d helped the fourth boy up. The boy was covered in bruises and his nose was crooked and bleeding, but his eyes blazed with the intensity of an inferno.
“Thanks for saving me,” he’d said, and stuck out a hand. “M’ name’s Sapnap.”
Sapnap, Dream had quickly found out, was hotheaded and had a massive temper, but he was also loud and funny and kind, and he gave the very best hugs. They weren’t quite as protective as Puffy’s, but they were warm- the kind of warmth that seeped into your very soul and heated you up from the inside. It was an effect of Sapnap’s blaze blood, but Dream had always liked to think that Sapnap was just naturally warm like that.
They were best friends for years. Dream had eventually moved in with Sapnap and Sapnap’s dads, Bad and Skeppy, after they’d found out that his mom had left him. He and Sapnap shared a room, and whenever there was a thunderstorm- they were both terrified of those- they would curl up together under the covers of Sapnap’s bed and cuddle. Sapnap was always a furnace, even in the dead of winter, and Dream had soaked up every bit of heat his friend had to offer. There was no shortage of that.
When they’d started the Dream SMP together, along with George, Dream had purposefully put the beds near the windows in the Community House so that if a thunderstorm ever came, he’d have an excuse to cuddle with Sapnap. And they would cuddle during every single storm- just like when they were younger. George never joined them, but sometimes he would push his bed closer so that Dream could hold his hand.
Sometimes, when he manages to fall into fitful sleep, he’ll dream- heh- of those times. He’ll dream of being back in the Community House, his back pressed up against Sapnap’s chest, his best friend’s arms wrapped around his waist. When he wakes up, he’ll find his fingers curled like he was holding someone’s hand in his sleep.
God, he misses Sapnap. He misses the warmth of the blaze hybrid’s hugs. The lava is hot, but it’s not really warm. It burns him, makes him feel like he’s on fire, whereas Sapnap’s hugs just made him feel like he was curled up in front of one. But it’s the closest he can get in this cold, cold cell, so sometimes he’ll throw himself in. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyways- and every time, he can pretend, just for a second, that he’s back in Sapnap’s arms.
They haven’t visited him yet, Sapnap and George, unless you count the one time Sapnap came just to threaten him. Dream knows he deserves it, knows that he’s a monster- but he still misses them. He misses them so much that it aches, sometimes. He just wishes that he could feel Sapnap’s arms around him one more time, or George’s fingers interlocked with his own. He wishes that he weren’t so cold and alone in this cell.
(He doesn’t deserve one last hug, he knows. But even a monster can wish.)
---
When Techno had arrived in prison, things had- for the first time in a long, long while- looked up. The cell didn’t seem so lonely and cold anymore with another person there. With Techno’s presence, Sir didn’t come, and Dream’s body could finally start to heal properly.
He and Techno hadn’t talked much at first. They were never really that close- only friendly rivals who sparred every so often, and after Doomsday, they’d mostly gone their separate ways. Techno was never supposed to have been part of the prison plan, but Sir had forced Dream to write the letter, and Techno- poor, clueless Techno- had come, not knowing that it was a trap.
For that, Dream had screamed at his rival until his voice was raw. But at the same time, he’d been secretly glad. Techno was not Sapnap or George or Puffy, but he was another human- well, human enough, anyways- to fill this empty cell. He was not Sir with his weapons and the Warden with his healing potions. He was not there to yell at Dream or hurt him. He was just… Techno. Awkward, snarky, and an asshole, but infinitely better than the other people who had been in Dream’s cell.
And for some reason, even though he and Techno weren’t close like he and Sapnap were, Dream still yearned for that same affection. It was a craving, a burning desire that inflamed at the presence of another person after so many months of being alone in his cold little cell. He wanted warmth- true warmth, not the blazing heat of the lava. He wanted to feel human again.
(He knew he wasn’t human. He was a monster. He’d hurt people. But then, hadn’t Techno done the same? The piglin had been the one to spill the blood of countless people on the paths of L’Manburg while Dream had rained destruction from the sky. Maybe a monster didn’t deserve affection, but two tyrants could surely find some sort of comfort in each other, right?)
Techno had asked him about his scars. “Ya got more than I remember,” he’d said gruffly. “Been sparrin’ with the walls in here?”
Dream had curled his legs up and stared at the obsidian floor, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. “Qu- Sir tortures me,” he’d snapped, hating the way his voice trembled pathetically.
His rival had given him a sharp look. “Did you just say Quackity? He tortures you?”
“Yeah,” Dream mumbled. His scars burned with phantom pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He hated how weak he felt, hated the way his hands were trembling still, hated how much he wanted to press himself up against Techno’s solid, muscular form and just be warm .
“Dream,” Techno had said after a moment. “Nerd.”
Dream had opened his eyes to see Techno holding out his thick red cape with the white fur trim. The piglin hybrid threw it at him, and Dream somehow managed to catch it. “Techno, what?” he’d demanded, his voice thick with shock.
“Put it on,” Techno ordered. “You’re tremblin’, and I don’t like it. I don’t know how you’re cold with this cell bein’ literally bathed in lava, but you clearly are, so put the cape on. I don’t need it.”
There were a million arguments Dream could’ve made, a million things he could’ve said. He could’ve- should’ve- refused. But he was still desperate for something he could never have, and this- this was the closest he was probably ever going to get. So he took the cape and draped it over his shoulders.
It was, unsurprisingly, warm- Techno did live in the freezing cold Arctic, after all. It was also soft and surprisingly fluffy, especially the trim. Dream had instinctively buried his nose into it, and the scent of dog fur and pine trees had hit him like a truck. There was also an undertone of potatoes, except not the moldy potatoes that had been slowly piling up in the corner of his cell- baked potatoes, the ones seasoned with chives. It was almost good enough to make him hungry- almost.
“Bro, why are you smellin’ my cape? That’s kind of cringe,” Techno had teased, though there wasn’t really any mocking to it.
Your cape smells good , Dream wanted to say. Instead he wrinkled his nose and said, “How many potatoes do you have to eat for your cape to smell like potatoes? F*cking moron.”
Techno had snorted, amused, and Dream had felt something warm spark to life in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was Techno or the cape, but the cell didn’t seem quite so cold anymore.
Stuck in the tiny obsidian box together, they’d somehow, inexplicably, grown closer. When Dream woke up screaming Sir’s name three days in, Techno had awkwardly hugged him until he calmed down. The piglin’s arms were far stiffer than Puffy’s, or Sapnap’s, but they were warm and protective and real . It was the first hug Dream had been given in as long as he could remember, and he’d melted into it.
Techno had held him until he wasn’t shaking quite so hard anymore, and then the piglin had pulled back, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I’m goin’ to get you outta here, Dream. Once Phil gets me out, I’ll gather all the resources I need and come back for ya. I’m not lettin’ you rot in here any longer.”
It was a promise. Not like the promise Sapnap had made- no, this one was different. This was not a promise of pain and suffering and broken friendships. This was a promise of safety, of warmth. And even though Dream knew it was foolish to hope, he still dared to let himself that maybe it was a promise of comfort too.
He clung onto that hope as time went by and Techno didn’t push him away. They traded stories, reminisced about the early days of their rivalry. Whenever Dream woke up screaming again, Techno would hug him and whisper that same promise over and over- “We’ll get out of here, nerd. I’ll get ya out.”
Techno still wasn’t Sapnap or Puffy, but he didn’t need to be. He was Techno, and he was warm. His hugs were fierce and protective, like a firm wall shielding Dream from the outside world. Whereas Sir would always grab him by the throat like a mutt and shake him and slam him into the floor, Techno touched him like he was human . Like he was something other than a horrible monster.
(He knew he was still a tyrant, still a monster. But it had to mean something that Techno could touch him, right? It had to mean something that he could still be hugged and touched like any other person.)
He still missed Sapnap and George and Puffy- missed them so much it still ached. But he had Techno now, Techno who wasn’t Sapnap or George or Puffy but who was still warm and wonderful. And when Techno vanished from the cell, pulled back by Phil, he left his cape. It still smelled faintly of potatoes, even months later.
Dream took the cape and hid it under his bed, where it hopefully wouldn’t be found. The next time Sir came and beat him until he was bloody, he took the cape from its hiding spot and hugged it to his chest. It was still warm, just like Techno. He buried his face in the white fur and tried to pretend that he was safe- safe and not trapped in this lonely cell still. Somehow, it worked.
(But that didn’t last. Sir came back the next day, and the day after that, his temper frayed and his weapons sharpened. He grabbed Dream by the neck again, crushed his windpipe, beat him like a dog, tore his last semblance of humanity from his fragile grasp. Sir slashed at him until there was a puddle of blood beneath him, then left him on the floor, the cold from the obsidian seeping into his bones again. He tried to reach for Techno’s cape, but it was just out of reach of his shaking fingers.
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he didn’t deserve warmth. Maybe there was no such thing as comfort for monsters like him after all.)
---
The pickaxe raises, glinting in the light of the lava, and Dream squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for the hit. He can feel his own blood soaking through his torn jumpsuit, pouring out of the gaping wounds Sir had left in his thighs. Sir had taken two of his teeth today as punishment, and he can taste copper in his mouth.
Everything hurts- his legs, his mouth, his whole body. The pain is like fire in his veins, burning him from the inside out. It’s like the lava- hot and scorching and nothing like the warmth of Sapnap’s hugs or Techno’s arms.
(He wants Techno. He wants his snarky, stupid, hopelessly endearing and endlessly warm roommate back. Techno had promised he would return to break Dream out, but maybe he’d forgotten. Or maybe he’d decided that Dream wasn’t worth it after all. Dream wouldn’t be able to blame him for that.)
Dream braces himself for more agony, more excruciating pain ripping through his soul. Instead, he hears a soft whoosh of air. He opens his eyes to see that Sir has lowered the pickaxe, its tip still stained red with his blood.
Sir smiles, his eyes like dark voids. “Actually, I think that’s enough for today. You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, Dreamie?”
He shudders. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Good. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
With that, Sir turns and calls for the Warden. The lava parts, and Sir steps onto the bridge and vanishes behind the curtain of lava, leaving Dream to curl in on himself. His wounds throb, the pain so much, too much. He should be used to this by now, and yet-
You deserve this . That’s what Sir tells him every time. He deserves this, deserves the pain and the suffering. He deserves to be alone in this cold, empty obsidian cell. So why does it still hurt so bad? Why is he still yearning for warmth, for affection? Why is he still so, so lonely?
He slowly pushes himself up, whimpering as the pain doubles. Somehow, he manages to reach under the bed and pull out Techno’s cape. He hugs it to his chest and buries his face into the soft fur trim, but the potatoes and pine trees scent has long since faded.
A sob tears its way from his throat before he can stop it. He clutches the cape closer, trying to absorb what little warmth is left in the red fabric. God, he misses them. He misses Puffy and her sea-salt smell. He misses Sapnap’s warm hugs. He misses Techno’s strong, protective embrace. He doesn’t deserve to miss them, he knows- but that doesn’t make the ache go away.
(He wants them back. He wants his mom back. He wants his best friends back. He wants Techno back. But he won’t get them back- because he’s a monster, and he doesn’t deserve them back. They all hate him anyways, maybe even Techno.
He hugs Techno’s cape even closer, his tears staining the fabric, and drifts off into a world of nightmares and frail, shattered hopes.)
---
Click .
Dream curls up even further, tucking his head in between his knees. His whole body is still throbbing with pain from yesterday- he’d made a mistake, and Sir had punished him for it, and afterwards the Warden had still only given him one potion. He can’t do this again. Then again, maybe this time, it will be too much for his body and he’ll die. That would get rid of his wounds, at least.
But the footsteps are different this time. Dream lifts his head up, trying to squint through the curtain of lava. If it isn’t Sir, and it isn’t the Warden, who could it be? Someone come to visit him? Dream’s heart gives a delicate flutter of hope. Even if it’s Sapnap come to yell at him again, it’s better than Sir coming with his weapons.
The lava parts, revealing the bridge and the person standing on it- Techno, dressed in full netherite armor, his crown glinting atop his head. He’s gripping a sharp netherite sword, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Dream wonders if he’s here to hurt him, just like Sir. But then he remembers Techno’s promise- I’m goin’ to get you outta here .
(But surely Techno hadn’t meant it. After all, who would want to save a monster like him?)
Techno leaps off the bridge, charging into the cell, and Dream instinctively flinches back. His breath stutters as Techno freezes, staring at him. Then, suddenly, the piglin drops to his knees, sword clattering to the obsidian floor, and reaches out. His hand brushes Dream’s cheek, and the touch is so warm, so gentle, so human , that Dream lets out a strangled sob of relief. He leans into Techno’s hand, trying desperately to soak up the warmth.
It’s the first time since Techno left that he’s been touched like a person, not an animal or a beating bag, and it feels so, so good.
Techno’s gaze rakes over his body, over his torn and bloodstained prison suit and his open wounds, and the piglin’s red eyes blaze with enough anger to burn Pandora’s vault. His voice, though, is gentle when he speaks. “Hey, Dream. Can ya hear me? It’s me, Techno.”
“Techno,” Dream tries to say, only it comes out as a pitiful wheeze. He tries to press further into Techno’s hand, fat, embarrassing tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Shh. Don’t waste your energy tryin’ to speak. We’re goin’ to get you outta here, okay? Me and Phil are gonna get you out, and when we get back to the Arctic we’ll fix you up. You can say hi to Steve.”
Dream lets out an involuntary whimper as Techno drops his hand and begins to rummage around for something. The piglin pulls out a corked bottle, filled with a shiny orange-ish liquid, and it hits Dream then- this is real. Techno is really here to get him out.
Sir’s voice echoes in his head- You’re a monster, Dream. You deserve this . And he knows- knows that Sir is right, knows that he deserves to stay in here forever. But Techno is right in front of him, safe and warm and real , and Dream- Dream just wants to be touched like a human again. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but the craving burns in his veins like an inferno. And when Techno reaches for him again, he can’t help it- he leans into the piglin’s arms with another small sob.
Techno easily scoops him up and presses the bottle against his lips. “Drink. It’s fire resistance, just in case.”
The potion burns his parched throat, but he obediently gulps it down. Techno’s hard netherite chestplate presses against his body, and the piglin’s forearms are covered in armor guards, but he’s still somehow warm. His hands are firm and protective where they grip Dream’s own fragile body, his thin arms and scarred legs.
Techno steps onto the bridge and calls, “Phil!” Moments later, the bridge jolts and begins to inch back towards the other side. His whole body shuddering at the sudden motion, Dream turns and buries his face into the soft fur of Techno’s… cape?
“Wait,” he rasps, his voice cracking. “You- you got another one?”
“Yeah, nerd,” Techno replies softly. “I got one made for you too. It’s extra warm, and it’s green. Your color.”
Something sparks to life inside of Dream at those words- a feeling of warmth, of contentment, that he hasn’t felt in a long, long while. He swallows another sob, but this one is of pure, unbridled relief. Techno is going to get him out, and they’re going to go back to the Artic together, where a warm cape will be waiting for him. For the first time since he was put in this awful prison, he’s going to be safe. He’s going to be warm. He’s going to be human .
He keeps his face tucked away as Techno begins to walk, his pace brisk and urgent. Phil is talking in low murmurs, something about healing potions and bandages, but Dream is barely listening. All he can focus on is the warmth of Techno’s body, the firm grip of his hands, the pure surety of his strong, muscled body. Techno is real. He’s safe. And maybe soon, Dream will be too.
(Sir had said that he deserved to be in the prison, that he deserved to be tortured. But if that’s true, why is Techno breaking him out? Why is Techno treating him so gently and softly, like he deserves careful touches and warm hugs just as much as anyone else?
Maybe- maybe Sir was wrong after all. Maybe, even though he’s a monster, he deserves more than cold obsidian and loneliness and pain. Maybe.)
“Warnin’, we’re about to go through the portal,” Techno says a moment later. Dream squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face even further into the fluffy lining of Techno’s cape. He hears the whoosh of the portal, and then-
Sounds. Sounds that he hasn’t heard in so long. Crickets chirping, leaves rustling, the wind blowing through the grass. He tentatively lifts his head up and stares at the night sky, inky black and twinkling with millions of stars. Somehow, his eyes immediately find the same constellations that he used to point out to Sapnap and George on the roof of the Community House so many years ago.
(He still misses them- he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop missing them, doesn’t think he’ll ever stop missing Sapnap’s warm hugs or George’s hand in his. But he has Techno, and Techno’s going to get him away from this cursed prison. They’re going to go hide in the Arctic, where it’s safe, and Dream can steal Techno’s cape and bury himself in the piglin’s warmth forever.)
Techno makes it two steps away from the portal when the alarm bells begin to sound. Cursing, the piglin speeds up from a brisk walk to a run. “Phil!” he yells. “Tell Niki and Ranboo to set off the rest of the withers and get back to the portal!”
“On it!” Phil says, just as a terribly familiar voice booms, “Technoblade! Philza! Stop right there and set the prisoner down!”
Dream’s muscles stiffen at the sound of the Warden’s voice, but Techno’s arms remain wrapped tightly around him, and the piglin’s stride never falters. “Hold on, nerd. This might get a little bumpy, but we’ll make it out.”
Wishing he wasn’t shaking so hard, Dream buries his face back into Techno’s cape and tries to block out the sound of the Warden yelling. He can hear explosions in the distance and more screaming- like someone had set off some TNT, or maybe a few withers. Is that whoosh of air overhead Phil, soaring on those great black wings? He doesn’t know. Everything is so loud all of a sudden, especially compared to the silence of his cell, and all he wants to do is sink into Techno’s embrace and go to sleep. His wounds throb still, but even when he has nightmares, the pain rarely chases him into his sleep.
He hears footsteps chasing, people screaming still, the Warden yelling. He should be terrified- after all, if the Warden catches up, Dream will surely be punished. But Techno’s arms surround him like a thick, warm blanket, and he can feel consciousness slipping from his fingers.
They reach the Nether portal just as Dream loses his grip and falls into the depths of his mind.
---
When he wakes up, there’s something soft underneath him and something else warm draped over his body. His mind is, for once, quiet, and he realizes drowsily that he hadn’t dreamed or had a nightmare- just peaceful sleep.
He forces his eyes open. Above him is a ceiling of white concrete and spruce wood beams. To his left is a window, the curtains drawn to let it only a minimal amount of light, and to his right is a spruce door set into the white concrete wall. A redstone lamp sits on the table next to his… bed? Is this a bed?
Dizzying panic hits him suddenly. This isn’t his little obsidian cell, and it isn’t the hospital ward of the prison either. So where is he? Has Sir taken him here to be punished again? Is this room some kind of trap to make him feel safe when Sir is going to burst in at any moment and beat him?
His breathing quickens, leaving him in short, panicked gasps. He reaches for the blankets to throw them off, but his hands are all wrong- bandages wrapped around his palms, going all the way up to his knuckles. Is this a cruel trick? Is Sir healing him, only to come back and cut open all his scars again?
The door opens. Dream shrieks and presses up against the wall, hyperventilating. His vision is blurred from panic and tears, and all he can see is a figure standing in the doorway, holding something. Sir with his pickaxe. It has to be- who else would it be?
The person- Sir?- rushes forward. “Dream,” they say, and it’s Sir’s voice, malicious and taunting. Dream whimpers and tries to curl up, but Sir is already reaching for him, ready to hurt him again-
A hand rests on his arm, large and warm, and suddenly everything comes crashing back. Dream’s vision begins to clear as his memories return like a tidal wave- the bridge, getting out of the prison, seeing the sky again at last. Techno, crouching in front of him, touching him oh-so gently, carrying him out of the cell with the care of someone cradling a newborn infant. Techno, who got him out.
Dream looks at the person in front of him, and it’s not Sir. It’s Techno, studying him with worried red eyes. Techno’s hand rests on top of his arm, warm, and he instinctively leans into the touch.
“Hey,” Techno whispers. “Ya back with me?”
He nods mutely, not trusting his voice. Techno hums, sounding skeptical, and sits on the mattress with a soft creak . His hand moves from Dream’s arm to his own hand, one thumb tracing gently over the bandages.
“What happened?” Techno asks softly, after a few moments. “So I can make sure it never happens again.”
Dream squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to break down. Sir’s face flashes in his mind, lips twisted into a cruel sneer, and he has to fight the memory off. You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. You’re with Techno .
“I thought-” he whispers, his voice breaking pitifully. “I thought you w-were Sir.”
Anger flashes through Techno’s eyes, but it’s gone quickly, and the piglin begins to rub tiny, soothing circles into his bandaged hand. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, Dream. You’re safe here. If that duck -” Techno spits the word like it’s venom- “ever tries to hurt you again, I will personally rip his head off.”
Dream shudders and leans closer to Techno. “You don’t have to do that. I- I deserved it anyways.”
“What? No, no- Dream, look at me.” Techno waits until he obeys, then settles both hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes.
“You did not deserve that,” the piglin says firmly. “You did not deserve to be kept in isolation, and you did not deserve to be tortured daily. Sure, you did some pretty messed up stuff, but, I mean, we all sorta have. And you were the only person to be punished. But you did not deserve anythin’ that happened to you. You’re not a monster, Dream.”
… What?
Dream’s breath stutters in his chest. “I- I’m not?” he whispers, hardly daring to believe it. Surely he’d hallucinated Techno saying that. Surely no one believes that he’s not a monster.
Techno’s expression softens. “Can I hug you?”
Dazedly, Dream nods, and a second later he’s being pulled against Techno’s chest. Techno’s arms wrap around him, protective, and it’s so warm that he melts instantly, going limp in Techno’s embrace. A sob bursts from his mouth, and before he can stop himself he’s crying fat, salty tears into Techno’s cape.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” Techno murmurs, gently rocking him. “You’re not a monster, Dream, no more than I am. And you definitely didn’t deserve what happened to you back in that cell. But you’re safe now, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt ya anymore.”
Dream buries his face into Techno’s shoulder, trying to focus on the grounding firmness of the piglin’s arms and the lingering potato-and-pine-trees scent. “Th-thank you,” he hiccups. “For coming back for me.”
He feels Techno’s grip on him tighten. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I wasn’t goin’ to leave you there to suffer. You deserve better.”
I deserve better . He isn’t quite sure he believes that yet. But here, in Techno’s arms, he finds that he doesn’t really care. He’s safe, and he’s warm, and that’s all that matters to him right now.
(He’s still a horrible person, he knows. He’s hurt people. He’s done awful, terrible things. But maybe that doesn’t mean he’s not deserving of affection. Maybe that doesn’t mean he can’t still be loved.
Maybe , he thinks as he sinks into the familiar warmth of Techno’s embrace, maybe I do deserve one more hug after all .)