The Death That Follows

Technoblade

TW: Mention of Gore, Slight DNF

Two years ago

Technoblade

"Stupid orphans." I grumbled to myself, sitting down in my wooden chair. They thought they could mess with me because I seem homeless? They got what they deserve.

Only outcasts live at the edge of the SMP, unwanted in any of the territories, living off the thick woods and lakes. When I had first ran from it, the betrayal, my family, the bombs, I found this cave, right under Dead Man's Cliff, where no one dared to go. Except, of course, the orphans. Idiots.

It took a while to dig out a nice place for myself, making a hidden potato farm deep within the mountain, but it was worth it. Everyone needs potatoes.

The inside of my house was alright looking, mainly made of rough wood and stolen wool, but I was never known for my building skills.

It was just a normal day, the birds singing, worms hiding, me thinking of death and destruction, when, late at night when the only light was the torches giving everything an eerie glow, someone fell.

Now, many people fall off Dead Man's Cliff. Either from dropping their phone, or child, and scrambling to grab their precious item, or texting and walking. Not a good combo.

But this was different. There was no screaming, no pleading for someone to save them. There was no sound at all except for a sickening thud. I opened the stone door, pushing past the hanging vines to see what had happened.

"Dream?" I gasped, stunned by what I saw. He was lying on the ground, wearing a light blue hospital gown, and he seemed fine, well, for jumping off a cliff. He had a deep gash running down one side of his head, which was probably going to leave a wicked scar, but not the usual smashed mass of what once was a human.

I rushed to him, pulling his arm out from under him to feel his pulse. He was alive alright, but the thudding was quick and faint. Not a good duo.

Carefully, having no idea how extensive the damage was, I lifted the slightly smaller man into my arms easily, and brought him inside. Dream and I had never been friends, exactly. Partners, associates, the people running the con together that would inevitably betray everyone.

But, seeing him crumpled and barely breathing, triggered some long buried feeling in me. Kindness? Empathy? Flashbacks of the poor orphans? Who knows?

I laid him down on my couch, the stuffing spilling out even farther. I went to the sink in the one roomed, well, room, and took off my shirt, drenching it in water. That's what happens when you have no rags. Or towels. Or change of clothes.

I went back to Dream and wiped the blood off his head and face, leaving his skin flushed red.

Having no medical experience whatsoever, I tended to his wounds as best as I could, hoping he didn't die of some odd disease I gave him from my pretty much unwashed shirt.

"Gogy?" Dream groaned, and I jumped so hard, I would have hit my head on the ceiling. If I actually had a ceiling, and not just a bunch of precariously packed mud.

He had just fallen almost a hundred feet. How the —-- was he alive?

"Dream?" I asked, and his eyes fluttered. He groaned, finally reacting to the pain, and I touched his shoulder gently.

"What is going on?" His words were so slurred I could hardly tell what he was saying.

"Dude, you just fell off a cliff and survived." I said, still stunned that he could actually talk.

"I'm alive?" He asked, squinting up at me, moving a hand to cradle his head.

"Somehow." I said, awkwardly standing in front of him, shirtless.

"I don't remember. . ." He trailed off, and I could almost see the memories flooding behind his eyes.

"Oh —--- ----------- ------- ------ ------ -----." He said, and my eyes went wide. That sounded good.

"What happened?" I asked, and he looked up at me with glazed, unfocused eyes.

"I just ruined my life." He said, right before passing out.

For weeks he just sat on the couch, eyes milky as he stared at my extremely boring dirt walls. I fell into the habit of feeding him when I ate, and getting him what he wanted, though he never actually opened his mouth to ask for anything. I tried, over and over, to get him to tell me what happened, but to no avail. And, after almost a month of him rotting on my couch, I snapped.

"I have been taking care of you for weeks, weeks! You haven't told me anything about what is going on, why you are here, sitting on my couch, instead of with George. If you expect me to keep feeding you like a —- baby bird, you have another thing coming, —- —--." I said, and, for the first time in days, his eyes moved.

"XD happened." He said, and I folded my arms, confused. And then, as if I had broken down a dam, he told me everything. About XD, Dream's fear, what he did to Gogy, how he just wanted to end the voices in his head. But he had failed. And now, all he could hear was his own voice, over and over, repeating every word he had said to George. He talked until his voice gave out, and even past then, even though I could hardly hear the whispered words.

"So, to recap, you proposed to the love of your life, immediately saw a demon in the mirror, got into a car accident, was guilted into crushing George's heart, ran away from everyone, jumped off a cliff, and managed to survive?" I asked, flabbergasted, and he nodded, his head looking much better, if not a bit puffy.

"Yeah." He groaned, his eyes red rimmed from crying. The only times I had seen Dream was when he was angry, or about to blow something up. This was a totally different person. One that needed to be protected, instead of the one doing the destroying.

Carefully, awkwardly, I sat on the other end of the couch and wrapped a tentative arm around my comrade.

"Well, that sucks. But what now?" I asked. Dream could stay here, sure, but I doubted he would be able to keep still.

"I have to get rid of him." He said adamantly, and I looked over to see that his eyes were clearer than I had seen since he fell off the cliff. "I have to find a way back to Gogy, and to my life. I have to find a way to destroy XD, before he destroys me."