𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖘𝖒𝖕 | reimagined

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝕰𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖊

Dream sauntered to the center of the room, slicking his hair back from his eyes. He didn't seem even slightly distraught that he was moments away from either killing or being killed by his greatest friend. "Are you sure, Wilbur?" Dream questioned, his voice steady and avoid of any panic or anxiety, yet Wilbur could tell that there was something desperate beneath Dreams exterior. Wilbur tugged his sleeves above his elbows and suddenly broke into a grin, to which Dream reciprocated in some estranged mutual understanding. "You've been craving this haven't you? Revenge." Dream questioned, as the two began to circle each other as if they were  bound together by a pole at their mid's. "You never approved of my success Wilbur, because you fell into the shadows." Dream mocked bitterly.

"I think very few people approve of your success, Dream. Falling into your shadows is greater then falling into your lime light." Wilbur retorted. In response, Dream launched forward to which Wilbur dodged, resulting in a simple switch of sides. "You have to face the truth Dream. You've become the very thing you swore to destroy." Wilbur spoke, a smug look on his face as he watched Dream carefully, like a rabid beast.

"Oh yeah, and whats that?" Dream asked, cocking his head expectantly. Wilbur scoffed in response, amused by Dreams incomprehension of an answer which seemed so blatant to him.

"A fucking dictatorship, Dream." This earned Wilbur the second attack. This time Wilbur responded by stepping a short step to the left and giving Dream a sharp jab between his shoulder blades as he flew by, knocking him to the ground. Dream was quickly back to his feet, throwing a second hit toward Wilbur's head. Wilbur grabbed Dreams fist as it approached, the bones in his hand breaking and sinking into the shape of Dreams hardened knuckles. Wilbur gave a great cry as he threw Dream over his shoulder, yet Dream landed on his feet, twisting Wilbur's arm hideously behind his back. Wilbur groaned before kicking Dream in the kneecap, causing the man to release him. And so they were once again back to circling each other. They didn't speak this time, allowing their breathless, pained gasps speak for them.

This time, Wilbur launched toward dream, who ducked down, tripping Wilbur to the ground. Wilbur fell with a thud before leaping at Dreams crouched form, pinning him to the ground. Wilbur inhaled sharply, as if he was breathing in the bravery to hit Dream who yet bore the face of his greatest friend, although maybe not the soul. Wilbur threw a punch to Dreams nose, blood and cartilage splattering across the marble flooring. Wilbur charged his second hit up, pulling his fist up high, yet hesitated, his attention captured by the mutilated face of a friend. This gave Dream a window to instead tug Wilbur's head into his own, a loud hollow thud following the collision. Dream spun Wilbur around, now pinning him to the ground instead, sending a punch to Wilbur's face alike the one he had received. "Fuck you, Wilbur." Dream croaked hoarsely, a pair of tears born from utter rage trailing down the apples of his cheeks.

For the first time in long, Wilbur could see how distraught Dream really was, of the man he had become, of the horrors he had administered, of the corruption which left him breathless, all blue and purple. Wilbur saw the way the veins shifted under Dreams skin as if they would burst, he saw the way Dreams hands quivered as they reached for the blade he had tucked away in his blazer, he saw the way his eyes reflected the memories of when Wilbur was a young boy alongside himself, promising Dream the world and beyond. And as Dream brought the blade to his throat, Wilbur could see how he bit back the terrible scream hed like to release. "Fuck you, Dream." Wilbur spoke, his lips wavering in and out of a frown.

And then, just as the blade began to sink into Wilbur's throat

Bang

Dream winced, the blade slipping from his fingertips as he pathetically toppled over, howling in pain as blood poured from the fresh bullet wound in his abdomen. Wilbur desperately gasped for air as the adrenaline wore off and the sheer panic could finally settle in. He wiped the sweat from his brow and the blood from his hands before sitting up and looking around him, finding Tubbo laying against the wall with half-lidded eyes and a gun in his lap, a smug smile on his lips as his eyes met Wilbur's. 

Wilbur nodded at Tubbo as a sign of mutual acknowledgement and appreciation before his eyes trailed towards George who was still standing at the door, a completely blank expression on his face as he peered down towards the injured Dream with narrow eyes. George sighed before he looked towards Wilbur, his head tilting ever so slightly and his fingers tapping impatient, nearly neurotic, patterns on his thigh. "You need to leave Wilbur, the medics will be here soon and they wouldn't hesitate to arrest you for treason." George said, before he craned his neck regretfully towards the boys. "And take them with you. A car loaded with supplies will be waiting for you through the back exit." George explained. Wilbur ogled, his mind spinning with the concept of George aiding a traitor like he.

George gazed ahead of himself, his face remaining blank. "Leave now, Wilbur."

------------------------------------------

Tommy's eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling the weight of a damp cloth resting on his forehead and hearing the crackle of a fire beside him. His sight cleared gradually, giving way to what seemed like a small, stout wooden hut which, judging from the tall spruce trees visible within the window pains, seemed to be deep within the forest. Tommy tried to speak, which faltered into a cough and thereafter a pained groan. Suddenly, Tubbo appeared from where Tommy's eyesight did not reach. His head was wrapped in a bandage, and his skin was purple and blue with bruises, yet he seemed healthy and fine, alive. Tommy smiled, relief washing over him, before his mind abruptly moved on to another thought. "Where exactly are we, Tubbo?" Tommy asked, weakly.

Tubbo crouched down beside Tommy, plopping down onto the floor. "We're safe, don't worry." Tubbo started. "The man who greeted us at the door, the one who looked slightly disheveled, not the bitter looking one." Tubbo explained, drifting off slightly. "He bust in right when Dream was about to..." Tubbo paused, the color briefly draining from his face. "Well, you know." He cleared his throat to compose himself once more, and continued his orientation. "He then fought Dream, and then my memory sort of betrays me, but I believe I managed to get my hands on a pistol and shoot Dream. Then he brought us here." Tubbo finished with a casual shrug.

Tommy stayed silent, a skeptical look washing over his face. "And how can you be sure hes to be trusted?" Just as Tubbo was to reply, the door flew open, bringing with it the ice cold air from the outside. Wilbur tumbled in through the door with rosy cheeks and a heavy breath, hugging a stack of firewood to his chest. He quickly closed the door behind him and plucked the hunting hat from his head, placing it on the coat hanger before turning to face the two boys at the fire place. His expression shifted between shock to a warm and pleased smile.

"You're awake, thank god." Wilbur said as he unwrapped the scarf from his neck and tugged the thick winter coat from his torso, before approaching the fireplace. He crouched down in front of the blazing fire, bringing his flushed palms out in front of it to bring the feeling back within them. Wilbur sniffled and turned to face Tommy who lay with heavy eyelids and a steady breath. Wilbur removed the cloth from Tommy's forehead, replacing it with his hand, shifting it around a few times before shaking his head. "No fever, you're a lucky bastard." Wilbur chuckled, returning his hands to the warmth of the fire.

"Why did you save us?" Tommy spoke, his eyes trained on Wilbur, who's back was turned against him. "We're just two, naive young boys, who you have no relation to." Tommy added, watching as Wilbur nodded along as he spoke. Wilbur turned his head toward Tommy, his smile slightly softer, yet baring the same measure of warmth he'd entered the hut with. After a few moments of silence among the three, Wilbur seemed to remember something, muttering a low 'hold on,' as he dug around in his pant pocket, bringing into view

The disks.

A/n:

Sorry this part was so short, Ive never written a fight scene before so it took all of my brain power lmao forgive me.