Chapter Text
Summer, 2016:
MunchyMC, a brand new server owned by a newly christened BadBoyHalo.
“After the staff revolt, they wiped your name from the system.” Bad had told him. “I think it was a point of embarrassment for them, so they blamed it all on me.” When Dream had frowned at the injustice, Bad put a hand on his shoulder and smiled, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve been itching to change my name for a while.”
“Dream!” Pandas yelled, a white head band fluttering in his hair. It was the same strip of cloth he’d torn from his old onesie to hide Dream’s eyes with. Now it found new purpose in keeping his dark bangs out of his eyes. “Help me choose a new name!”
“Why?” he couldn’t help but feel hesitant. He’d been so optimistic when Pandas had dragged him to McPvP, but look how that turned out.
“It’s a new beginning!” Pandas replied, “We have an opportunity to start all over again!”
I'm not excited, but should I be?
His old blue hoodie had been replaced by a bright green one. Pandas, or Sapnap as they named him, made him a new mask, this time with a simple smiley face on it.
“Couldn’t remake the original,” he’d said smugly, “Some art is not meant to be replicated.”
Dream had fastened it to his face anyway. He appreciated every gift he got from his friends, however few they were, but the mask only served as a reminder. It seemed that even with this new beginning, everything was still the same for him. Always hiding, always hated.
Is this the fate that half of the world has planned for me?
Bad had made him an Admin on Munchy, giving him access to enough commands to “protect himself” if anyone ever came looking for him. It reminded him of his old powers, and when it came time to help Bad build his server, world-editing came naturally to him.
He distinctly remembered Bad admiring his good work and shaking his head, “See, we set up a whole new server with a spawn of Herobrine on our side and we didn’t get a single glitch! Not one accidental nor Player-made! Don’t know what those muffins were on about.”
Summer, 2017:
He first laid eyes on him on one of Munchy’s test worlds. He had watched, enthralled, as the man effortlessly opened panels of floating text, raising and lowering the sun with a flick of his fingers, summoning in mobs with a few lines of code. Once again, it was a painful reminder of the powers he once held.
Bad understood his excitement when he’d come running to him, but the truth was unfortunate. No, he was not a spawn of Herobrine like Dream, but rather, a Developer. The very same as those who ran the Universe and decided that his kin were not fit to live in it. In all rights, he was meant to be his enemy. But he was so unlike the head Developers that had stripped him of his powers and left his kin to be hunted down and perma-killed. Here, he was using his powers for creation, using the source code to build beautiful things the Universe had never seen before.
Perhaps it was that contrast that drew him in.
The allure of his power, the danger he posed to him. Despite the nightmares that plagued his youth, he remembered the thrill of the hunt.
It left him infatuated.
I know I love you, and you love the sea
They called him GeorgeNotFound. He’d wondered where his odd name had come from, but he soon got his answer. When he’d tried to find the man after their brief encounter, he was simply nowhere to be seen. If he did not want to be found, he was not found. His skill for hiding almost rivaled his own.
From the brief glimpses he got of him, he guessed he was a descendent of Alex, with his slim, pale figure and delicate fingers. And if the stories of the most vicious hunters were true, there was no way a spawn of Alex would want to consort with the likes of him.
George was around Bad’s age, a man already. Dream was just a boy, with a silly, boyish crush.
But what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me
Even if he was ignored by GeorgeNotFound, he still wanted to be like him. Perhaps, if he became a Developer too, he’d notice him.
Summer, 2018:
Coding came naturally to him. It was in the nature of his existence to defy natural order, coding was the same thing. His entire purpose was to tinker with the source code, to stretch it to its very limits, to defy it.
In his passion to rediscover himself, he found him again. George, the Developer. He was unchanged, but Dream was. He was a man now, a Developer in his own right. They spoke to each other as equals. Then co-workers. Then friends.
This was the new beginning Dream had desired. He could start all over again. The Players who had come with him to Munchy, Bad and Sapnap and then Callahan, Alyssa, and Punz, they all knew of his heritage. But George didn’t, and he would never know if Dream could help it.
Summer, 2019:
Dream was having...problems, to say the least.
He’d begun streaming his plug-ins for hundreds of people to watch. Hundreds turned to thousands, thousands to ten-thousands, and soon, a million. Perhaps like his forefather, he too had a taste for theatrics.
See the sun go down
It's going on down, and the night is deep
Perhaps his traumatic childhood had a bit more of an impact on him than he’d initially thought. He felt himself being drawn towards speedrunning. Not for the glory of saving the world, not for the challenge of killing the Ender Dragon, but for the chance to hear the blue and green entities. They spoke to him, in the Void at the bottom of the world. He fought through three dimensions just to hear someone tell him that he was not alone, that he was not separate from every other thing; that he was loved. He wanted to believe it so much, that the Universe was kind and only the Players that ran it were cruel. Lulled by their voices, he would eventually drift off to sleep in the arms of the Void.
It was always a disappointment when he woke back up at Spawn, having saved the whole world but not his own soul.
Want a little light
The fear, the adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt. It was the only time he’d felt truly alive. The only time he’d felt wanted.
But who's gonna save a little light for me?
Bad and Sapnap both told him that it wasn’t healthy, especially given his circ*mstances, so he went to find the one person who didn’t know.
George.
The first time they played this little hunting game of theirs, Dream lost. He would never admit it to Bad and Sapnap, but it nearly sent him into a panic attack. It took George curling around him and gently running his hands through his hair for almost twenty minutes to fully bring him back over the edge. If it had been anyone but George, he didn’t think it would have worked.
The minute the imminent threat passed and his chest loosened up, his heart only began pounding for more. It was, after all, just a game this time. Not life or death.
George made a frighteningly good hunter. It was as if he could anticipate his every move, as if he had put himself in his shoes and saw everything from Dream’s perspective. He didn’t think he took part in the hunting parties sent after his kind; despite George’s age, he still should have been too young to participate. Dream simply chalked it up to George knowing him extremely well, and refused to consider any other more chilling alternatives.
The game, Manhunt, grew exceedingly popular. Sapnap joined in, having seen how much more alive Dream seemed after playing the game, and finally, Bad caved as well.
Dream thought that this was it, he’d finally put his past as a spawn of Herobrine far, far behind him.
The head Developers sure loved proving him wrong.
Summer, 2020:
The highly anticipated Nether Update rolled out with a distinct lack of -Removed Herobrine.
Maybe it was an administrative error, a line of code forgotten to be copied over, or maybe the head Developers finally thought that all descendants of Herobrine had been wiped out.
The Universe itself changed very little. Life continued on as it always had. Herobrine had been gone for so long that no one noticed, but Dream, Dream noticed.
His powers had returned.
Powers that were no more than childhood dreams flowed back into his veins. He could raise chunks with no more than a thought and teleport in the blink of an eye. The freedom was exhilarating, leaving him breathless every time he traveled to his test world to finally just… be himself. It was everything he remembered and more . Now combined with his skill as a Developer, he felt like he could do anything.
Rather than confide in Sapnap about the return of his powers, the first thing he did was run to show George. Of course he did, George was all that was on his mind these days. He played his powers off as a breakthrough he’d made, allowing him to edit the source code in-game instead of through plug-ins. He expected George to be elated— and he was at the beginning— but he watched his friend slowly become more and more frustrated.
It was a combination of things.
First and foremost, his code. A Developer was nothing against a descendent of Herobrine who could change the world with a flick of his hand. Dream hadn’t helped either (“FIX YOUR f*ckING CODE!” he’d once cried out in pain, too lost in his own suffering to see the hurt on George’s face).
Then there was the teasing. The flirting, the mocking. They orbited each other like twin suns, pushing and pulling but never getting close enough for a fiery collision. One day, in a rush of confidence, Dream would make a bet with George to show him his face. And in the next, he’d twist the rules of their bet, terrified of what George would think of him if he found out. But his attraction to George never faded, leaving him to orbit at a distance, thousands of flowers and words laid heavy with hidden meanings the only symbol of his eternal love.
Their celestial dance finally came to a head one day, as they were testing Dream’s newest powers on changing into mobs.
“Dream,” George put an exasperated hand to his head, “What you’re doing is impossible, I swear- Stop that!” he yelled when Dream shifted into a horse in the blink of an eye, “Now you’re just showing off!”
Dream was indeed showing off. Sometimes he reminded himself of a flamboyant bird, wooing its partner in displays of gift-giving and talent, hoping perhaps that merit would be enough to make up for his sinful existence (It was enough , Bad and Sapnap had told him time and time again, you are enough). He shifted into a bright green parrot next, a far more fitting form.
“Stop that, Dream, please.” George groaned, burying his face in his hands, “You’re making me so- URGHHHHHHHH!” he screamed in frustration.
Perhaps it was the sheer volume, or the hauntingly familiar note of desperation in his voice, but Dream finally stopped. He shifted back into Player form and wandered over to his friend. After a brief moment of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around his small form.
“I’m sorry.” he murmured, hoping the quietness of his voice could convey his sincerity.
George looked up at him, and Dream flinched at the intensity of the emotion in his face. His mouth curved a sad line and his eyes inscrutable behind his colorblind glasses. Longing. He gazed at him longingly, as if he held something George, too, once knew but could not have. Sympathy welled up in his chest, only to be poisoned by guilt.
“I need to tell you something.” the words fell from his mouth before he could stop himself.
“What, that you love me?” George snapped, pushing him away, “You tell me that everyday, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Wha- That’s not- that wasn’t-” he stuttered, not expecting the conversation to veer so sharply, “That wasn’t meant to be a joke.” he confessed.
George didn’t seem to accept that as an answer. “If you really loved me as much as you claim you do, then why haven’t you shown me your face?” he pressed on, “How can I love someone if I don’t really know who they are?”
His words were like a stab through the heart, but they rang true. “No George, that’s exactly the reason-” his hands flew to his face, resting on the sides of his mask. “If I showed you who I was, then you wouldn’t love me.” he took a deep breath, “But it’s not fair to you.” he gritted out, “I know it’s not fair.” his hands tightened around the edge of his mask, “You deserve to know… and I don’t deserve anything at all.”
He let the mask fall from his face.
We know the fire awaits unbelievers
His white eyes mocked him from the reflection in the dark lenses of George’s glasses. He gave him a sad smile, “See?”
All of the sinners the same
George had curled up on himself, holding his hands close to his chest. “Oh Dream…”
“Sorry.” he said dumbly, squeezing his eyes shut as if that’d hide what he truly was. He felt tears escape, leaving cold streaks down the side of his face.
They only grew colder as the silence stretched on.
Something warm pressed against the cold tracks left behind by his tears. He opened his eyes in surprise to see George smiling back at him. He was cupping his face, holding him gently in his palms.
“You’re such an idiot,” he said, though his tone said everything but that. He reached up to his glasses and pushed them back to rest in his hair. Dream had never questioned why he wore them, the same way George never questioned his mask. Occasionally he caught sight of his eyes darting around beneath their lenses, but never did he see them exposed. Now he knew the reason.
Like a sun rising in the night, another pair of glowing white eyes stared back at him, burning brighter and more powerful than his. His following words were like a song straight out of a dream, “We’re the same, Dream. One and the same.”
He was struck dumb. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? George’s unusual ability to disappear, his talent as a Developer, his skill in thinking from the hunted’s perspective. “You’re a spawn of Hero-”
“Shhh,” George hushed him, stepping closer, “Do not say his name. We were made in his image, but his actions do not govern ours.”
“George-” his hands scrambled for purchase on the fabric of the front of his shirt, desperate to maintain their distance, but also longing to pull him closer.
“You are Dream, right?” George closed the distance, so close that the light from their eyes mingled together. “You chose to be Dream.”
His breath caught in his chest. “Yes-”
“Then I love you.” he said, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, “And I hope you love yourself as much as I do.”
Girl, you and I will die unbelievers
Bound to the tracks of the train.
