Pandemonium | Dream SMP

86. Shouldn't you be happy?

"Well...that was pretty easy," Wilbur observes, crouched beside the body of Schlatt. There's no joy or excitement behind his words. No sparkle to his brown eyes. He couldn't have looked less enthusiastic by the current circumstances if he tried.

It should make me angry. Make me want to pierce him on the end of my trident. How dare he be so indifferent to Schlatt's death. This is what this whole war was about, after all.

And yet, I'm not angry.

I don't know what I feel.

Sick, maybe? There's a twisting pit in my stomach. A lump in my throat. My breathing...when was the last time I took a breath?

A loud bang shakes the ground and smoke erupts around our feet.

In a split second all has gone from quiet to chaotic. The only sensation I'm aware of is the arms of Techno across my stomach, keeping me upright. Even when Schlatt disappears amongst the smoke my eyes remain glued to the spot where he lays.

"Drop her," a voice growls, so close that it makes me jump, blinking rapidly. My lungs shudder as I take in a breath.

What's happening?

Techno drops me and I slump into a different pair of arms. They immediately wrap me up, pull me close, and then my stomach flops as purple particles flood my vision.

I blink and I'm no longer surrounded by smoke and noise, but along the coast, the dark sea lapping quietly at my feet.

"We need to move," Punz instructs. Sapnap is balanced between him and Karl, leaning heavily on them for support.

"Let's use Pogtopia. They won't be returning to it now they have L'Manburg back," Dream says, already shifting to hoist me up, intending to place an arm beneath my knees.

I pull away, my world spinning. This is too much. Too fast. Pogtopia? L'Manburg? I don't understand why any of that matters right now? Did they not see Schlatt die just now?

"No, I can't—" I press my palms to Dream's chest and try to put some distance between us, "Schlatt is still back there. I have to get him. I need— he needs a proper burial. I owe him—"

"Ares, he's dead. You owe him nothing anymore," Dream's voice is soft yet commanding. I don't like it.

"And what if it's what I want?" I challenge, turning on the man with a glare. My eyes feel wet, and my chest is tightening with every word I grit out, like a corkscrew about to pop. But instead of champagne, I'll be spilling tears.

Dream is quiet for a moment, as if analysing me. Then he turns his mask to Punz and nods, signalling them to move first. Soon enough I'm left alone on the beach with just Dream, water seeping into my boots and smoke billowing on the horizon. If I walked a little further down the coast I could probably see Niki's bakery.

"Dream, I can't just...leave him up there," I whisper, bumping my head to his chest. My eyes are overflowing, hot rivers streaking down my smudged cheeks. It feels strange to cry again after so long. It's so warm and suffocating.

My hand comes up to grip my chest, bunching the fabric of my dirty shirt. A hiccup pushes past my lips. And then another. It hurts. It hurts so much.

"I kn—know you hate him, but— but you could at least pretend to...to care," I say between breaths. "I know he's dead. I know there's a hundred other things we should be worrying about. But—"

I feel hands rest themselves on my elbows. They travel up my arms, soothing in their administrations. It has me bite my tongue in an attempt to hide an ugly sob.