Crossmare Valentine Special

Part 15

Dream was tired.

So, so very tired.

Day after day he slaved, researching and making potions. Sometimes he would just sit down next to Nightmares sleeping form and just talk to him. There was nothing specific he talked about, and he knew that Nightmare couldn't hear him, but it made him feel better. He would just talk about his day, how hard he worked, the kind of food he ate that day. Other times, he would just sit down with food and eat next to his brother, the dining room holding too many bad memories for him to handle.

Every morning, one of Nightmares Followers would deliver a message to Dream from his brother. Sometimes it was just a jab, like "Hey, I can eat steak non-stop and not get sick! I bet you wish that you could do that!" and "How's it going? I have no one to talk to all day, it's super lonely man." Dream would spread word around the Followers to give a response, but sometimes the Follower of which received the ability to see him that night did not get the message, so it was difficult to talk to his brother.

But Nightmare was safe, and it gave Dream an eternity to find a cure.

And he was going to find it.

After the first month, Dream managed to convince plenty of alchemists and scientists to work with him to try and find a potion, devoting the basement to a work room. There was around fifty people working in total, others not willing to be in the same building as someone with the curse, and others simply not interested in the project. This allowed for more ideas for cures to be created, and they were created at a much faster pace than just Dream working.

But nothing worked.

Time and time again, cure after cure failed to work. Some of them did not have any reactions, others just made Nightmare jolt in his sleep. But, in the end, nothing was working. Dream, however, was determined, and wouldn't give into failure.

His workmates thought differently on this matter, though.

A woman monster of yellow skin approached him before sunfall one fateful day, a pile of papers clutched closely to her chest.

"Dream," Her voice was ever so soft, nervous, Dream should have seen it coming, "This won't work."

"What won't work?" He asked, looking up from his notes, "You mean your partner? I know she's distracting, I can move your desk to work with someone else."

"This project. It's hopeless."

Dream paused, unsure of how to respond before she spoke again.

"I ran over the probability of ever finding a cure that will work, based off of the numbers. It's less than one percent," She explained, adjusting her glasses, "So... um, pretty much, we're shooting for a goal that'll never be hit. Even with time, materials, and power on our side, it only increases barely, not even by a tenth."

"Y-You must've done your math wrong," Dream said, standing up in a hurry, "There's a way, there's always a way! We just have to stay hopeful! Nightmare will get better, there's always a cure to potions. I-"

"Dream."

He ignored her.

"-Know there has to be a cure. I mean, Nightmare is immortal, and his soul is really strong, he can fight through it! We just aren't looking hard en-"

"Dream."

She rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head.

"There's no hope," She spoke softly, "You won't be able to save your brother. Grow up, this isn't a fairytale. The best thing you can do for him, right now, is to let him go."

SMACK!

He didn't mean it.

But he did.

He didn't even know.

Dreams hand stung from the impact, shaking violently. His mind was in a hurricane of emotions, anger, grief, pain, different types of horrible emotions whirling around into one mass storm of pain. Everything she said just... made him so angry, he just... wanted to take it out.

But he didn't mean to take it out on her.

The poor woman was holding her now red cheek, staring at the Prince before her in shock and disbelief. Her papers had fell to the ground below them, scattering about the cold wooden floor. She took a step back, the creak of her weight against the floor the only sound the two made.

Neither of them knew how to respond to this.

And so, when she took another step backwards, he didn't move to stop her. Nothing made sense anymore. He thought she was his friend, why would she do this to him? Why would she say those things?

Before he knew it, the door to upstairs was slammed closed, and once again Dream stood alone in the light.

All alone.

~~~~~~

The Prince of Light didn't sleep that night.

He couldn't care less about his job at this point, candles were lit around him, cascading light down onto the papers on his desk he was working at. He promised Nightmare he would find a cure, and he would. He didn't care about the pain, the struggle, he would do this.

For his brother, it was worth it.

The papers of which the female dropped were in the bin next to the desk, ignored. Those numbers were lies. He didn't want to look at them, didn't need to, and wouldn't.

He hadn't noticed the other scientist standing in front of his desk until the male cleared his throat, Dream looking up at the human with tired eye sockets.

"Sir Dream."

He held out a single piece of paper which Dream grasped in his hand, skimming through the paper.

"Why did you give me a list of names?" The skeleton asked.

"It's a list of people quitting."

He glanced up, his hand holding the paper wrinkling it a little.

"Pardon?"

"You have unrealistic expectations of us, and quite frankly," The Doctor paused, turning around, "I would have quit anyway. I cannot work for childish fantasies."

The Prince of Light watched as the Doctor left, the hand holding the piece of paper, full of at least twenty names, shaking violently. And when the footsteps in the hallway faded....

He screamed.