Helium By Tbhyourelame (a continuation from heat waves)

Brotherhood

Purple and blue lights wash over wooden floors, where colorful bowling balls slip and roll until colliding with pins. Neon strips outline the separation of lanes. Beneath the seventies-style synth that floats from ceiling speakers, glowing screens and bright banners capture families' scores, upcoming events, and Dream's desperation to even the board with a perfect strike.

Ten-pins crash in far corners of the wide alley. The slick bottom of shoes clack lightly on the polished ground.

Dream stares down the green sphere as it glides on the wood, and to his horror, curves left. His head tilts in disappointment as it misses the mark entirely, and drops into the gutter.

"There we go!" Sapnap calls from behind him, and he groans. "You sure you don't want the bumpers on?"

Dream hovers by the dispenser as he waits for the ball to return. "Can the next one be our try-hard game?"

"No way. You can't keep saying that every time you screw up."

They'd arrived at the buzzing alley to seriously settle days of competitive banter, but wound up doing the opposite. The first hoard of rounds are marked by a series of red fouls—Sapnap and Dream kept sneaking shoes over the boundary line during each other's turns, cackling at the loud alarms and shoving each other away. Quickly after, the games delved into inventing the most ridiculous methods possible to hit even a singular pin.

In their real games, Sapnap has been winning with little mercy.

Dream's second try leaves his fingers with grace, light glinting off the shiny surface, and barrels into three pins before disappearing behind the lane.

"This shouldn't count," he argues feebly, for what may be the third time in the past hour.

Sapnap huffs. "You're such a baby."

Dream sulks back to their table, and eyes the greasy pizza and fries dwindling before them. "Stop calling me that."

He aimlessly bats away balled up napkins on the cluttered surface.

Lounging in the plastic swivel-chair, Sapnap grins up at him with a dixie cup pressed to his lips. "Since I'm destroying you, I think I can call you whatever I want."

Dream spares a glance up at the bright-colored scoreboard, where several large X's stand next to the name 'shitnap,' while he has close to none.

He lowers himself into the chair opposite while Sapnap presses on the controller screen. "When did you get so good at bowling? I crushed you last time we were here."

He makes an empty-grabbing motion towards the soda pitcher.

Sapnap nudges the container towards him. "That was like, five years ago." He smiles again, wickedly. "People change."

Dream narrows his eyes at him. "Why are you so—" He looks at the scoreboard again. "Oh my god, can you stop changing my name, please?"

Sapnap giggles with indifference.

"It's your turn," Dream complains. "Go already."

Sapnap gracefully exits his seat, grabs his sparkly, pink bowling-ball off of the rack, and approaches their lane.

Dream leans towards the table's monitor and hastily deletes 'parrot boy' from the scoreboard.

Moments later, he hears a crash, and his eyes leap past Sapnap's shoulders to see four pins fall into the dark backdrop. The white fabric of Sapnap's t-shirt glows blue under the faint blacklights. When he tosses Dream a smile, his teeth are illuminated too.

As he comes back to retrieve his ball, the music overhead dies, then repeats again.

"Did we really have to come on retro night?" Sapnap asks, heaving the rounded, pink beauty to his chest.