Love and war (A DreamSMP story)

Memories (Chapter 1)

George didn't like being involved in the war.

War was a scary thing.

He would much rather be building a pretty garden, decorated with daises and roses and all different kinds of beautiful flowers. Flowers of many colors, shapes, sizes, and textures. Most blooming with love and care that told a story of love and solidarity.

Instead he was standing outside a jail cell, staring at Dream.

Dream.

"Why did you do it?"

Dreams Pov

Well, why did he do it? He didn't have an answer. 

He  didn't mean to? That wouldn't work. That was an excuse, one that they both knew wasn't true. Dream had meant every word he had said to Tommy, every single sickening word that pierced the boy's skin and made him squirm. The words that made Tommy lie awake at night wondering why. Why he had screwed up so badly. Why he had failed. He thought he was a failure.

But the real failure was Dream.

"I didn't have a choice."

"You did."

Dream looked up.

He did? Of course he did. Nobody forced him to do it. Nobody told him, "Hey, Tommy deserves cruelty, something you can't take back." Nobody forced him to take a 16 year old boy and mentally destroy him day after day, use him as a pawn, and end up here. He thought back to their last encounter,

"Tubbo, what will I be without you?!"

"Yourself, Tommy"

(I apologize if that's not the correct line)

Yourself. That was it. The one thing Dream had been fighting against all along. He had done everything he could, just to make sure that Tommy would be alone. And yet, Tubbo had tried to help him. Tubbo was foolish, but that's what Dream expected from a kid thrown into power too early. Dream had done everything he could. 

And he still lost.

"..."

"Answer me Dream."

"..."

"Please."

Dream just looked down in shame. No, shame wasn't the right word. Disgust. He was disgusted with himself. But could he change the past? No. But the past seemed to haunt him, as if the sweet smelling grass still wafted past him and dewdrops still swiped at his feet as the flower petals danced through the air...

"Oh Dreeaaamm!"

He was running

He wasn't scared, he was laughing. He was happy. He wasn't worried about war, in fact, he was worried about how close the ravine was. He was so sidetracked, he tripped over a rock and fell into the soft, damp grass.

Shoot.

He scrambled back up, only to get knocked down again by George. He was laughing hard, and they both giggled as they laid in the grass. 

"I got youuu"

"I know I know, you win this time"

This time.

There was no other time after that. The war had begun. The memory was almost sickening. It was sweet like honey and then bitter like blood. It left an irony taste in his mouth, like he had just bit down too hard on his tongue. If only he could go back. I suppose every memory is like that. Sweet at times, and bitter at others.

They say ignorance is bliss.

He blinked at the sound of a heavy metal door closing.

George had left.

George's Pov

The hard dirt trail he used to walk home shone brightly at night. It made George smile, as if he hadn't just been in a cold, dark prison where Dream had ignored him. Maybe the boy hadn't had an answer, maybe he had done it for the fun of it.

And that's what scared George.

Maybe one day Tommy would tell the others how he felt. What Dream had done. Maybe even why he'd done it. George wasn't the type of person to push him. If Tommy needed time, then time is what he would get. George hoped Tommy was doing alright, as he had been staying with Techno for the past week and half. George knew Techno would protect him, he just hoped it would be enough.

War was a scary thing. But there's only so much you can do when it shows up at your front door, seeping through the cracks in your walls and oozing from the floorboards.

War is a scary thing.

But sometimes it's the only option left.

(678 Words)