Dreamswap Oneshots

Promise (Sweammare)

WARNINGS: Suicide ideation, Suicide attempt, violence, blood.

This takes place way before Nightmare met Cross and Error, perhaps three decades after the Apple Incident took place.

This is obviously not canon.

Enjoy your reading.

***

"Argh!" Nightmare crashed into his hideout with a loud thud, the impact momentarily making his head ring. Through the last shards of the messy portal he managed to create seconds before getting his head slashed, he could hear Dream's voice in the distance, ordering a retreat. Then the last remains of the magical door faded away, leaving his mind to repeat what Dream told him during their usual chase like an alarm.

"For a world without tears, I'm afraid I will need to take your life."

That sentence was all he could focus on. He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing at all, making him almost touch a random bell while he was reaching for the bandages on the counter, bandages he had stolen a few days ago at a pharmacy.

It was the first time Dream had ever told him head on what exactly he wanted to do with him. Perhaps he had implied his demise was his objective before yes, but that did not lift any weight from his words at all.

He wanted him dead.

The only person who ever cared, at least a little, wanted him gone.

He forced back the tears that threatened to come out with a scowl. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't.

That knowledge did make his heart sting though. He recalled how they were inseparable when they were young or how holding hands seemed natural to them, what the hell happened for everything to come crashing down like it did?

Had he done something?

Was he at fault there?

Even if he were, what justified Dream creating an entire fucking multiversal oragnisation meant to chase him down?

Having his childhood... well, he guessed he should refer to him as an ex-childhood best friend? Chasing him around the world like a prey was bad enough, why did he have to drag the entire world with him?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a slight pang of pain on his arm, stronger than the rest of the echoing pain from the battle he just ran away from.

While he was thinking, he had been absently and messily patching himself up. The bandages were loose, barely able to hang on his arm and the blood wasn't exactly stopping either. The reason why it hurt was that once he was 'done', he had been grazing his wound with his hand and one of his nails finally hit a wound, the action earning an immediate reaction from his nervous system.

... What was he doing this for actually?

Was there really a reason for him to try so hard to stay alive?

His daily life always took that miserable shape.

Run, get hurt, heal, run, get hurt, heal, and so on.

He hadn't slept in years. While he did have insomnia back then, he could at least get some sort of rest because his life had been somewhat decent. But now, even the slightest minute of sleep was torturous, atrocious visions plaguing his mind and preventing him from ever feeling rested.

He was so tired of this life, maybe he could just give in and let Dream do what he wanted?

Then again that would require him to get hurt some more before that were to happen. Nightmare prided himself in being someone strong, but there's only so much one can take before truly losing it.