You've Convinced Me

Chapter 7: A Different Kind of Insanity

They were curious, the lot of them.

Dream figured that Nightmare had never told anyone about his past, with how defensive he had been about it.

Dream never did before, either. A secret kept like a precious jewel, something to bring to the grave.

So they must have been shocked when they found out Dream was now dripping negativity. They probably thought Nightmare had always been that way, and Dream was simply his opposite. So much so that one or the other would be impossible.

If only they knew.

He would get not-so subtle stares, or they would be blatantly observing, eyelights set on him. They weren't bothering him, other than making him a little uncomfortable, so he let them be.

There was a call for restocking of supplies, Nightmare summoned the three misfits, and there was a discussion. He knew what it meant, Nightmare was going to plunder supplies from whichever unfortunate world.

Dream wasn't included of course, and he didn't even know what he was doing there anymore. He would try to stop Nightmare, but he didn't think he would be able to. And thinking about it now, would stopping Nightmare from getting food only be choosing one over the other? It wasn't like Nightmare could ask nicely... nor did he have a proper job... and nobody could go without food.

Who was he to decide who lived or died...?

It was impossible to leave this world on his own, so he was stuck here. He would ask to be able to leave, but Nightmare hadn't seemed willing to talk, and had often been away.

Any conversations with anyone else were few and far between as well.

He had received his own room, the guest room he had cleaned on the first day of his release. A simple room with a single bed was all he needed. He spent the most of his time in there, and if he weren't, he would be out cleaning. Cleaning up more places, and his own messes, that is, the sludge issue. It was quite viscous, so it didn't drip too much, instead it mostly stuck to him. The real issue was his puking, and it was horrid.

Yet another inconvenience to put on a list. It was already enough that he would be bathed in the sludge everytime he awoke. There was nothing redeeming about being this sick. It was possibly the most uncomfortable thing, and he didn't know how Nightmare dealt with it daily. At this point his clothes were just as black as Nightmare's and there was only disappointment left in him to give. Endless scrubbing did nothing, as his gloves had proved.

He had to remove his cape entirely to prevent it from becoming another casualty. He hadn't wanted to, but it was for the best. It had been tucked nicely under his pillow, and he couldn't help but raise the pillow to look at it again. Good. Nice and yellow.

The sound of the voices outside the door finally died down, leaving the silence behind. Did they leave him alone at last? He decided to wait for a prolonged silence before making any moves.

Dream peeked through the small opening of the door, before pulling it open wider. He stepped out, trying to make as little noise as possible, just in case.

Seemed like hoping to be left alone was wishful thinking. Far in the distance and sitting there on the ground and leaning against the unlit fireplace was Dust, the one Dream was most wary of, the most aloof of the three. He was in the main room, the one that had been destroyed and had all furniture removed. Nobody else was there.

Dust seemed unaware of Dream, instead muttering to himself. Dream was a little worried, there was only negativity in the air. He felt sick again, but approached slowly.

And soon enough as expected, he had given himself another spot to clean. Such an action did not go unnoticed of course, with Dust's attention immediately on him as he wiped the remains from his face. He froze as he noticed Dust's gaze.