Retold - A Series of Unheard, Ignored & Unseen Stories - Dreamwastaken x Reader

After the Sixteenth

A short, fluff piece while I try to pull myself out of a mental rut. Enjoy.

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What if they won, but had to face life the next day?

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The sun appeared brighter these days, like fog had finally been chased away.

Especially on mornings like these, with barely any clouds and a gentle breeze. I took in a breath, and wished that this moment would last forever.

I adjusted my grip on my cup, one that I made myself with the kiln a few streets down. It was pink, and the bottom was signed by myself and the three people I loved most. And the fact that they were here, all sleeping soundly in the house behind me, brought me immense peace. I turned, walking barefoot along the dark oak porch at my own pace. Slow and calm.

I gently rotated my cup, watching the creamer mix with the tea, turning a lighter shade than before. I stared into it for a moment, etching out my own features in the reflection of the liquid. The bruises scattered along my body had healed a bit, but not enough to be seen as "normal". The ones on my arms were the worst, and the most ugly appearing. Strips of brown and white hair fell forward as I stared into my cup, and I used a hand to use them all back.

It was early, and even though I still had trouble sleeping, I wasn't as much of a wreck as I used to be.

A gentle breeze blew through the air, feeling like a thousand butterfly kisses. I sat down on the edge of the oak porch swing, the one that Dream built with Puffy in our backyard. She had brought the spruce wood from Snowchester, and the boys helped carry it to the front of the house. They really did. Their physical strength had doubled since that day.

It still surprised me. I didn't know about their..well, who cares now? They would never have to use them again as long as I'm here.

Even without using them since that day, the remnants of strength left behind by their usage was noticeable. Tommy played soccer with the other kids and would often kick the ball too hard, it would roll off or bounce off of someone's front door, and I would stand up and rush over to apologize.

I remember I sat him down, explaining that not everyone had his..abilities..and he had to mind his own strength among the human children. Once he had a second to think it over, he accepted it without banter.

Toby accompanies Dream into the forest when he visits the treehouse. My bee boy got into the habit of collecting old branches and trunks, dead ones, and bringing them home. So far, he's carved out a lopsided bee and a realistic looking one for the mantel. I think he was working on a spider for Tommy, but was having trouble with the legs.

Even so, that didn't keep him from trying. The thought made me smile, and I raised my mug up to my lips, sipping at the fresh tea.

Sleep was rare for me, even weeks after that day, but I didn't mind it as much as I used to. Instead of wandering the halls, I took to wandering the backyard and looking up to the sky.

Sometimes I felt that I could see it, but knew it was mind playing tricks on me. A place like that was too high up to be seen from ground below. Perhaps it was never in the sky, but in a realm that appeared as a sky? I would never know, for I knew I never would, or wanted, to go back.

I sipped my tea again.

Once the sun came over the hills, I did this. I would make tea and step onto the porch, watch as each house came to life with its newly waking occupants and wild children. That was one thing I truly appreciated about this location, was the children.

Tommy and Toby were best of friends, but they did develop other friendships with other children, who seemed to truly enjoy hanging out with them. Sometimes they would play in the fields, other times they would play in the remnants of the castle. With my supervision, of course.

Dream would offer to supervise sometimes, like he was worried I would shatter at the mere sight of that man's broken kingdom, the ghostly memories that haunted the stone. The screams, the cries, all of it. He was right at times, and I would stay behind to rest or bake. But others, I reminded him that the best way to go about these things was exposure therapy. And he would give me a smile, because he never wore his mask in the house, and nod.

I sipped again, but this time, I heard the front door open behind me. Looking back, I could see Tommy walking out with a bowl of cereal, wearing his cotton pajamas. His hair was in the same braids from the day before, with pieces of blond hair sticking out from each side. He looked side to side then approached me, barefoot.

"Can I sit?" He asked.

"Of course." I shifted to the left and he sat down to my right. He rested the bowl of cereal in his lap, scooted back, and let his legs dangle off of the edge of the porch swing. I leaned back too, having not realized I was standing at attention all this time. I held my tea to my lips, feeling the blond boy stare at me.

"You didn't like tea the last time I gave you some." I reminded him, resting the mug back in my lap.

"But I want some." He responded, his voice even instead of argumentative.

"Alright, but don't spit it out if you don't like it." I said, taking his bowl of cereal and setting it on the porch. I took it from my lap, cradling it with both hands and held it out to him. "Don't spill, two hands.."

"I know mom, I got it." Tommy mumbled, shaking his head to get the stray hairs out of his eyes. He grasped the cup with both hands and smelled the liquid. His nose cringed, but he took a quick sip anyway. I watched on in anticipation, hoping he didn't burn his mouth or drop the cup. I felt my entire body tense in response.

Tommy pulled the mug back from his lips and closed his eyes with a single nod. "I still don't like it."

I smiled. "I didn't think so." I reached out and he handed the mug back to me, being careful. I sucked in a breath then pushed it back out, my body relaxing. I had to remind myself to breathe at times. Not everything would end in a bad way.

Tommy picked up his bowl of cereal from the ground and cradled it on his lap. He took a hefty spoonful of the cereal and shoved it into his mouth.

"Are you ready for school today?" I asked, making small talk with the boy.

"Yeah. I got a project due today." He responded calmly. There was no extra quips or sarcasm, just a response, like he finally understood how to read a room.

"What on?" I continued and took another sip.

"A personal hero." Tommy continued, staring up into the sky too. I felt my heart sting with an emotional pain I could never fully explain. It took me a second, and I wondered if he sometimes saw him in the sky like I saw the castle. I reached a hand out and placed it over his shoulder. I gave it a squeeze and he turned, smiling to me with his teeth. Like Toby does. Happy.

"I'm okay." The blond whispered, moving the bowl's weight into his right hand while his left turned to hold onto mine.

"I know, but grief can creep up on you." I reminded. "If you want to talk about it, you know I'm all ears."

"I know." Tommy nodded, voice quiet and eyes glued to a rosy colored cloud floating overhead. "You always are."

I smiled. "Always will be. It's what..a mom does, hm?"

Tommy scooted closer to me, leaning his head into my shoulder. I could feel his body relax against mine, truly feeling safe.

"Yeah."