The Stage is Set

Chapter 28: The Crying DayDream pt.5

Cry baby - Melanie Martinez

Shattered purrs from outside Dream's bubble. He loves negativity. Always purer than positivity. More truthful. Shattered presses his hands against the force field as he stares down at Dream. "You're one of a kind and no one understands." Dream looks up at Shattered with a sob. Shattered lets his fingers curl against the bubble, enjoying the taste of negativity rolling off of Dream. "But those cry-baby tears keep coming back again."

Hallucination flies back to Dream, crowding him, curling around the aura-based body. He purrs with a malicious undertone, "Someone's turning the handle to that faucet in your eyes." He gestures with his hand to a spot in front of Dream. Dream stares up at his twin. His brother is blurry with tears, and a laugh bubbles out. He doesn't care what he looks like. He doesn't care how crazed he seems He needs to show he's okay, he needs his brother to stay with him this time. "They're pouring out where everyone can see~"

Dream's smile grows pained as he watches his brother's skull crack and cave in. He tries to smile wider at his brother. He feels that hollowness growing in him. The rage and disappointment at himself. How much he wants to rush over. Why isn't he? Why is he doing this to his brother? He's doing nothing. It's fine. His brother will be okay. They will be okay. Ink will arrive and hold his brother close. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be okay. Ink will save him. He'll save them all. He just has to stay strong. He just has to stay out of the way. Why is he being so stupid? He's so stupid. He's an idiot. An airheaded, good-for-nothing crybaby. Dream's smile shakes as his breaths make pitiful sounds from between his teeth. Tears flow faster, collecting as a puddle of magic under his knees. Dream curls in on himself with broken laughter. He's being so stupid.

Think this through.

Ink is going to come. They will be okay. His brother will hold Ink close and they will cry. Dream won't be there, but that's okay. He'll be stuck in a house with a villager for a while. He'll crawl over to their hill. And that's fine. Why wouldn't it? Why would he make a big deal about that? He isn't allowed to complain. Nothing bad happened to him. He has to get over that guilt. He should be happy. He must be happy. He didn't die that day. He's still alive. His brother is alive. His brother is alive, right? Yeah. Despite losing part of his skull, he's still alive. Focus on the good. Focus on the good.

Focus on the good.

Dream holds himself, physically holding himself together. Get it together. He's still alive. You're overreacting. Get up. Face what you did. It is all your fault. You pushed and pushed. You never pulled back. You never stopped. This is all you. Selfish. How could you do that to your brother? To your friends? Look at what they did for you. You're being ungrateful. Look at what the three villagers taught you. How could you blame them? It was your fault for that. Your fault you couldn't say no. You never pushed them away. Never told them that you didn't want the gifts they gave you. It was your fault that you couldn't stop the villagers. You should've noticed the signs. You should've seen it coming. You should've stayed with your brother. How could you do that? Stop crying. You're overreacting. What happened to you doesn't matter. Think back on that and remember. Everything that happened to you and your brother is because of you.

All. Your. Fault.

Now that can't be true. My dear DayDream. Look up at me, listen to me. It was never your fault. You were only a child. You still are my child. Come home to me. Darling, come back home to me. I've been waiting for you to come home for so long.

Love, please come home to me. I've been waiting for you, my lovely DayDream.

Dream's tears stop at the soft voice. It sounds so familiar. Like a parent. Like a distant memory of overalls and strawberries. Of soft plushies and coffee brown scarves. That long brown scarf would hold him close to another body. Whispers of sweet nothings to calm his tears. Soft bone wiping the tears away before kisses on the corners of his sockets. Memories of tea parties with the voice, fresh muffins, and cookies. Cakes and tea. Warm and sweet with sugar and honey. Fresh-cut roses and honeysuckles from the garden, and cucumber sandwiches. Bite-size and crunchy. Of games of tag and hide and seek. Hands picking him up and twirling him around. Of songs with a ukulele and other voices singing along.

It sounds like...