Silent

{27}

THE GRIND MAY PAUSE BUT IT DOESN'T STOP

//

Wilbur's POV, earlier :)

"SHUT UP, TOMMY. You're staying here and you're going to keep Y/N safe! That's an order."

Wilbur's voice seemed desperate to get the point across to the young teen as quickly as possible, but Wilbur himself regretted yelling almost instantly after doing so.

Tommy hated it when Wilbur yelled at him. It reminded him all too much of his young childhood, and Wilbur made an effort to keep his voice down when he could remember too, but he was too frustrated - too scared to think straight.

He glanced at Y/N as he turned his body to face the door, watching her expression shift from worried to momentary shock before molding back into it's usual semi-scrutinizing narrowed look.

He grasped the handle of the door, pulling it harshly as he stepped forwards, not caring if the door swung too wide or slammed too harshly behind him.

He ran down the short flight of steps into the street and made a beeline for the gates of L'manburg, his brown hair tossed by the wind and obscuring the corners of his vision.

As he passed the hotdog van, his breath vanished at the familiar green tone that stood meters away from him.

It was Dream.

He looked like he was interrogating Wilbur's son, Fundy, and didn't look to be having any luck.

"Dream!" Wilbur shouted, catching the maniac off guard.

Dream dropped his hold on Fundy and turned towards Wilbur, his gloved fists curling tightly.

"Wilbur."

A deadly silence washed over the two, venom clear in their gazes as they each wished the other unimaginable horrors in their own minds.

The hatred was mutual, but that didn't do anything but fuel them more.

Wilbur shrugged his coat onto his shoulders properly, watching with an amused grin as Dream flinched and reached for his sword, readying himself for an attack.

"What the hell are you doing in my country, Green boy?" Wilbur was grinning, but his tone was anything but cheerful. It dripped with sarcasm like spoiled honey out of a crevice.

Dream responded with a chaste scoff, his white mask glinting in the afternoon sun.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I'm not here for chitchat, you British fuck." He spat, and Wilbur held back a growl.

"You're doing an awful lot of it then." Taunting the guy with the sword was probably the stupidest thing Wilbur could have done there, but in the moment he felt too angry to form thoughts before words.

"Okay fuck boy. Where's Y/N. I know you have her." Dream unsheathed and raised his sword threateningly, but Wilbur stood unfazed.

"I have no clue, Dream."

Again, taunting the guy with the sword was a bad idea.

What was wrong with him today?

Dream clearly didn't take it like a joke, as he lunged forwards at Wilbur with alarming speed, barreling towards the brunette like a canon.

Wilbur dived the left, rolling from his shoulder and landing next to a patch of poppy's and nearly bashing into the hotdog van if he hadn't been able to stop himself.

Dream quickly changed gears and pointed his sword at Wilbur again.

"I don't know what sick and twisted experiments you've been doing on her but I'm not going to let you hurt her!" He growled as he lunged again, and Wilbur barely had time to duck his head and swerve away from the sword.

Experiments? What was he talking about? If sleep and health potions counted as experiments, maybe, but Wilbur would never harm Y/N.

Wilbur ducked again as Dream sliced the diamond blade through the air, an almost dance-like step fell between them as Dream continued to try to land a hit, with Wilbur moving just outside of his swords range each time.

Wasn't Dream supposed to be a god at PvP? This was like fighting Tubbo. It was just repetitive swings with no technical skill or anything.

"Dream?" Wilbur swerved the right once more as he spoke, but cut himself short as he focused on Dream's mask.

It looked odd.

Nothing looked particularly different, but it gave him an odd feeling staring at the white material.

Wilbur opened his mouth to question the crazy sword man when he heard Fundy's voice cut through the air.

"Wilbur!! Catch!!!" Wilbur ducked underneath Dream's swing and popped back up just in time to grab the grip of an iron sword Fundy had thrown to him.

Wilbur brought the sword up and around, slicing at Dream's abdomen with a wide arch.

The masked fighter staggered backwards to dodge the swing, with little to no grace in doing so, and growled under his breath.

He was heaving like he'd just run a marathon and not a two minute battle.

In fact he looked about ready to collapse.

Wilbur found himself hesitating, the oddity if the situation blinding his thoughts.

"...Dream?" He prodded, but the man refused him an answer, simply standing at the ready and nearly choking on his own air.

The brunette lowered his sword slightly, feeling disgusted.

"What the fuck happened to you?"