Dreaming of Demons (Dream x oc)

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The golden morning sun made me squint when I opened my eyes—or eye. The right side of my face was sore and almost heavy, with something obscuring my vision. I lifted a hand to my face, my fingers touching a thick bandage covering my eye. At least the horrible pain had gone away. Those healing potions made quick work.

I pushed myself to sit up in my bed. The ponytail I had worn yesterday was loose and the strands that fell into my sight were crusted with blood. My clothes were also dirty and I could spot trails of dried blood on the fabric. My mouth twitched in disgust. I needed to shower.

I pulled out my hair band and tried to brush through the snarls with my fingers. That didn't really work too well, so I stood up and moved into the bathroom. My gaze flickered up to the mirror, immediately pinning on my reflection.

I definitely looked worse for wear. My hair was stringy and my dirty clothes looked terrible. A small butterfly bandage held the cut above my eyebrow together, and of course, the big white patch over my right eye was hard to miss.

It didn't hurt though, so maybe that was a good thing. I leaned closer to the mirror. The grey-blue color of my good eye stared back at me somberly. My fingers picked at the corner of the bandage. I was almost scared to see what my other eye looked like.

Something moved from outside the bathroom, and I glanced over to see Dream.

"Hey." He cracked a small smile as he looked over me.

"Hey," I said back, my gaze falling to the floor. I suddenly felt self-conscious about my face.

"Thanks for—you know..." I gestured to the bandage on my eye, shrugging, "Fixing me."

The corners of his lips turned up into a gentle smile and he moved further into the bathroom. "Of course. Is it still hurting?"

I looked up at the mirror again, finding Dream's gaze in the glass. "No, it's just...sore I guess. I don't know if that means we can take the bandage off yet."

"Let me see," He said softly, putting a hand to my jaw as I turned my head to face him.

With furrowed brows, he picked at the bandage, tugging at the corner until he could peel it away, ripping it away entirely. I winced as it tugged at my skin.

"Can you open your eye?" He asked, gaze darting over my face.

Carefully, I opened my eye, blinking a couple times. The muscles around my eye felt almost strained, like a headache was about to surface. But I could still see out of it. If anything, my eyesight may have only gotten a little blurry, yet surprisingly, it wasn't as noticeable. I gazed up at him, waiting for any confirmation that everything looked okay otherwise.

His brows knitted even further, and he leaned closer. "What the..."

He was really, really close. Close enough that I could see a ring of hazel in the middle of his forest-green eyes.

But I was getting distracted. "What?" I asked.

That short question drew his attention to my lips. But in the next second, his gaze was back on mine as he pulled back, his expression bordering on caution. "It doesn't hurt?"

My eyes widened just a fraction. Why would he ask that again? Was something wrong? "No?" I answered, confusion seeping in. Was it supposed to be hurting?

I turned my head to look at the mirror and his hand slowly fell away from my jaw as he let me stare.

I immediately leaned in closer, my hand drifting up to my face, but only hovering near it.

My eye was a different color.

I ignored the fading bruises circling my eye and the way a tinge of red tainted the white part of it. The iris was the only thing that held my attention. Instead of grey, it was now an earthy brown—well, most of it. Looking closer, I found there was still a patch of grey. The blow I had received to the face must have been enough trauma to alter the color of my iris.