Dreaming of a new life

maybe its best to look back

\Onceler Pov/

Onceler woke up to the sound of someone knocking at his front door. No doubt some bright eyed child here to see the crumbled reality of a failed man. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time someone had come to mock him.

"Get out!" He yelled, his bitter voice reverberating throughout the whole household. "I don't take visitors!"

The incessant knocking finally had stopped. However, Onceler couldn't hear the familiar creak of the front patio wood when someone walks (or runs in fear) away. Almost as if the person at his door proceeded to sit down and wait for him to answer. What an inconvenience. He was in no mood to host guests, and his home was in a state in despair so far it could take medication. Why anyone would want to stay in this cesspit of a building was completely beyond him. Yet, deep within him, something urged him to answer the door anyway.

Onceler finally stretched and got out of bed, his back aching from the barely held together bed. He meandered over to the front door and placed his ear against the door, listening if anyone was on the other side of the door. When he heard nothing, he pulled the door open to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone outside. Instead, he felt someone land at his feet.

"Can I... help you?" Onceler tilted his head, taking in the stranger before him.

The first thing that jumped out at him was his torn green hoodie, with an orange jumpsuit underneath. He had dirty blonde hair and fair skin, with freckles dotted around his cheeks. What was most noticeable about him, however, was his cracked mask on the side of his head. Whoever this mysterious person was, it was obvious that they'd been through a lot.

"Look, uh... is this house... free?" The stranger got up and dusted himself off.

"I live here." Wow, really Onceler? They never would've guessed. "Do you need somewhere to stay?"

Onceler could watch the stranger weigh his decisions, crossing his arms. Finally, it appeared he had come to a decision.

"Yes. Yes, please".

\Dream pov/

Dream felt almost remorseful for the trouble he's causing his generous host. It was obvious that he was going through some hard times, yet here he was, leeching off his kindness. The house was barely furnished, the only thing he had seen was the barebones kitchen a few metres away.

"Tea?" Onceler called out from the kitchen, pouring a glass of water for himself.

"Is it uh.. The water from...?" Dream warily replied

"The outside? Heavens no! I still have a bit left of my personal supply."

"Oh, then, yes, sure."

Dream sat alone in silence for a few minutes, waiting for his host to return with a drink. He finally returned with two porcelain cups filled with warm tea, his host's cup both chipped and cracked.

His host broke the silence. "So, I'm Onceler. And you are?"

"I'm Dream."

"Ah. Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Dream! And how exactly did you find your way here?"

Dream paused for a moment before speaking, hesitating to tell this practical stranger his life story. Onceler may be nice, but he of all people should know not to judge others based on first meeting. There's always something they hide, even from the people you think they trusted. Despite this, Dream began to speak anyway.

"Well, it all started with two music disks..."

Hours passed as Dream retold his endless exploits. The community house, The discs, L'manburg. Dream could barely stop himself as he continued to tell his tale, slowly getting more and more reminiscent of his old life. Fighting against L'manburg, then Pogtopia, hiding after Schlatt gave him the book. It all came out like there were no tomorrow.

Then, it was time to tell his time in prison.The long days, and longer nights. The only thing keeping him sane was the diary he had, the only thing he used to pass the time. He remembered his visits from Quackity, and shuddered. Even he didn't deserve to be treated how he was there, and he was the main cause of so many problems in his old world.

"...and I kept running. Until, well, I ended up here." Dream concluded, and took a breath. It wasn't often that you get to vent everything in your life to someone. It was... relieving, almost, to be able to recall all the things that happen to you, when you live in a world where taking the time to reflect could get you hurt, or killed. "And what about you, Onceler? A lone cabin in the middle of wasteland, how'd you swing the place?"

For just a moment, Oncelers face convulsed into a shade of remorse Dream hadn't seen before. Only for a moment, though. It was covered over with an innocent smile and friendly gesture. "Oh, it's just been like this when I got here." He was obviously lying, but Dream was too engrossed in his own tale to notice it.

\Onceler Pov/

He was lying again, and he hated it. Despite the fantastical nature of Dreams' story, Onceler knew it to be true, and when given the opportunity to finally tell the truth in his life, he decided to throw it away for his own insecurities. For a moment he looked outside of the cracks of the window, looking at the world he had forged through capital gluttony, and looked at Dream. But he didn't see a guest here to stay for a while, before he moved on. No, no, like any true capitalist, Onceler saw an opportunity.