unravel | dream x reader |

[41]

Ever since her talk with Wilbur, Y/N had been under the constant worry of his wellbeing.

It must've been a week or two since, but by the looks of things, he was only getting worse. She'd heard a couple things from Tommy that he was, in fact, losing his mind, and she had no doubt that he may be right. The guy definitely wasn't in great shape in terms of health - he constantly wore bags under his eyes, his already disoriented hair was even messier (somehow) and he was constantly missing or disappearing from Pogtopia... hell, the guy was even beginning to stink of smoke, a smell she had grown all too familiar with as of recently with a certain President of Manburg. Either way, she was undeniably worried about him, though there wasn't exactly much she could do about it, either.

Whenever she tried, he'd push her away claiming he was 'fine' or 'just thinking'. Thinking of what, was the real question. He was always a guy to have an admirable way with words; to see that he never really seemed to use them anymore was more than abnormal.

It was always just... silence. Eerie silence. Concerning silence.

Still, she figured she'd get some answers eventually, and hopefully some good ones. She was starting to feel a little restless with all the trouble happening lately - from destructive civil wars to chaotic presidential uprisings.

On a good note, she'd spent a lot of time with her brother lately, mostly between or even during shifts as he wasn't seen as a 'public enemy' like Tommy and Wilbur were. Obviously they still had to be somewhat discreet with their meet-ups (especially after the awkward fiasco with Quackity last time) but no one seemed to pay too much mind to them whenever they were noticed, thank god. He'd often catch her up on recent events or plans from back in Pogtopia, or just update her on different things in general such as what he's been up to lately or how he still somehow doesn't have enough potatoes in his farm. It was beyond her how he managed to believe 4 large chests full weren't 'enough' potatoes for his standards, but she'd rather not get into it. Last time, she ended farming with him for 9 hours straight, not a task she'd particularly like to involve herself in for a second time.

As of now, she was off duty-yet again due to her patrol shift having ended for the day, sitting in a field of grass with the pig-hybrid himself just silently resting under the calm atmosphere. The field itself wasn't too far from either Manburg or Pogtopia - sort of in between, really. It was fairly closed off, too, but gave them an undeniably gorgeous view of the 'proud', tall nation ahead of them. She was just thankful she managed to find such a rare spot on one of her patrols securing the borders of the country. Small flowers and leaves tickled at their skin, Techno's crimson cape and mask being untied and left astray, alongside Y/N's cloak. They figured they'd only be in the way of the much-needed cool breeze that passed over them under the scorching sun.

Her gaze was locked upon the flower chain she had begun looping between her fingers, a recent thinking habit of hers. Every time she'd visit this field, or one similar at least since she'd returned, she'd end up in this same exact situation. She had only her long-term thoughts to blame for it, too. By now, the chain she held was as long as her forearm, reaching almost up to her elbow in length. Truthfully, she wasn't really aware she had been looping them today in the first place. Not until she reached her third one, at least.

Techno didn't see it as a problem though, as he was wearing all three finished products upon his figure; one around his crown, one into his braid (she'd only recently braided it for him) and the last around his neck. Despite them inflicting his intimidation factors, she'd go as far to say that he liked them. He sure as hell had no problem wearing them, and showed no distaste when she originally threw them over him as a joke. Sometimes in long conversations, he'd even end up rambling about different flower names, pointing at each one that would be somewhat visible to him from where he lay positioned.