When it gets cold...

The prison was cold. Very cold. He wanted to spit and yell because, goddamn it, he was shackled in a little box against a real fucking lava wall, why the fuck did it feel like Antarctica? The black obsidian with bright purple veins, like the abyss itself, was soaking up all the heat, barely letting it into the little box that was called his cell. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was wrong. It wasn't meant to be. Obsidian wasn't supposed to make a fucking freezer out of a cell. What was wrong? What did they miscalculate? Was it because the obsidian became crying? Was it because the place was smeared with his blood and chunks of unevenly cut skin? Or had Sam added something without his knowledge when they were building? Dream didn't know. And he didn't have the energy to think about it. He sat, frightened, shivering, and weak pathetic as close to the lava as he could and it still didn't save him from the cold creeping into his fractured bones. Perhaps the cold had nothing to do with it. Perhaps it was the effects of the torture of Quackity, who had been so kindly invited by Sam every day for nearly six months now. He barely had the strength to crawl to the chest he was hiding behind when Quackity came. It never helped anyway. Sometimes even that little he couldn't do, just waiting for him on the floor, unable to move in any way. Quackity didn't care where he was. On the floor, behind the chest, on the sink, almost in the lava - he got him everywhere and made him regret that he had been born at all. It was easier at first. Quackity didn't really know how to punch and cut hesitantly, fearing to kill. He wasn't as sadistic then as he is now and usually his visits ended with nothing more than bruises on his neck in the shape of his palms, several long wounds, and bruises from his blows. Then he even left a healing potion behind, come to think of it. But time passed and there was less and less of the compassion and insecurity that had saved his life at first. He stopped being given healing potions, his bones began to be broken and his fingernails pulled out. Quackity stepped on his palms, grinned at him as he twisted the blades in his body, almost laughed as he slowly sliced the skin off him in whole layers. Dream doesn't know how many times he's died. The only things that bring him back to life are the totems that Quackity literally shoves down his throat to keep him from dying. And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts... He yells, he cries and begs for mercy, he rips his throat out and makes it worse, but no one can help him. Dream knows this as his own name. Not Sam, whose hand started it all, not Quackity, who will never wake up to pity, and no one else. Not the guards, not the people of SMP. He is pathetic, he is broken, he has no dignity left, and no one is going to change anything about the situation. For six months it hasn't changed. Why should it now? He's a tyrant, he's a monster, he's someone who doesn't deserve to live. That's why no one cares about his cries. That's why no one will help him. That's why no one will even remember him, and he'll be left to tear his throat out, to choke back tears, and rot alive in that cold box. Dream looks at his hands. They have scars on them, and his left one is still bleeding. He wonders what it would take to die from blood loss. He looks at the wall. If he breaks his head... will the world count it as death? Or will he be reborn here again? It's cold. If he throws himself into the lava? Bite off his tongue? Tries to suffocate in the sink? Can he hang himself in here? Dream is willing to do anything. He's afraid to live. None of those are working. The world refuses to see this as death and he still has his third life. Why can't he just freeze to death? Dream tries to crawl closer to the lava and feels himself begin to cry at the slightest movement. It hurts too much. He tries to hug himself to keep warm, but he can't do that either. It hurts too much. He wants to call for Sam, to start begging him to do something, to sob, to scream, anything! But it will be useless. The guard doesn't care about him any more than anyone else does. Besides, he can't even hoarse. It still hurts too much. What keeps him alive? What can he do to finally be allowed to die? They all want him to give them the knowledge from the resurrection book. But that's the one thing he can't give them. He can't. No. Never. And it's not that he knows it will end badly, no. It's that he's afraid. He'll be killed after he talks about what's in the book. But how long will his death last? Quackity likes to torture him - Dream has seen it. He's used to it, has developed a taste for it, and his eyes always shine with some feverish-excited gleam when he comes to his cell, leaning on his axe. If he dies without giving up the knowledge, it will be final. It will be a good thing. The right thing. If he tells, he will be brought back. Without end. He will suffer forever. He will be tortured forever. He will rot and return to a life he does not want, rejects, fears. Dream wants to die. Only how to do it? He knows he is broken. Outwardly, inwardly, mentally, and physically. His body is distorted, his mind is failing, his hands are hurting himself. Dream tears his hair. He bites his palms. He presses his eyes so hard that black circles appear, and his head begins to howl sirens of pain. The world still doesn't want to accept his death. Dream wants to peel his skin off. Everything, just to not feel Quackity's touch and what he leaves of himself as a memory. He digs his bleeding fingers into his forearms and scratches even though he has no fingernails. Not anymore - they haven't grown back yet. He bites his flesh until the pain drowns out the phantom sensation of the blades on his skin and until his mouth fills with blood. Sam yells at him. He smacks him across the face, digs his clawed fingers hard into his cheeks, forces him to unclench his jaw, and forcefully pours a healing potion down his throat. Dream chokes. Coughs. The world refuses to take him for dead. It's cold. At moments like this, he misses the warmth of living more than ever. But he never remembers his friends. He misses the warmth of Patches. He remembers how sweetly she purred when he held her in his arms, finding her in the cold streets in the rain. He misses the feel of the rolling muscles under Spirit's skin and her warm breath as he brushed her mane. He remembers striders in the Nether, chickens, rabbits, cows, sheep, and even little hoglins. Animals are better than people. They are understanding and if they accept you as a friend, they won't betray you again. Dream wants a dog. It would be so nice to feel a warm body under his side, to run his fingers through his fur trying to smooth it, to scratch between someone's ears and see that they are happy to see them, wagging their tail cheerfully. They are understanding and if they accept you as a friend, they won't betray you again. He remembers how Patches died. He remembers how Sapnap came one day with his Spirit's skin, saying he'd run into mobs. And the tears come in a new wave and are impossible to hold back, they just keep pouring so hard and he feels like he's going to cry his soul out of his body at this rate. Animals are better than humans. That's for sure. But he knows he will never see them again. Not here. Not when he's trapped in this tomb-cold box. The food dispenser only gives out spoiled potatoes. Poisonous. He can't eat much anymore, but even so, he gets sick of the crumbs he tries to swallow when his stomach starts to go crazy. Could it be possible to starve to death? The world doesn't think so. Quackity likes to shove poison potatoes down his throat and watch him choke and wheeze and spit when he does. Says he likes it when Dream cries. That he would do anything to see it as often as possible. Dream tries not to cry, but he can't make it, and he snaps just a few seconds later as his guest cuts off his arm and shoves the totem through his teeth again for him to be reborn when he dies. He is sickened by the taste of metal on his tongue. Ender, help me. Somebody, please help. He sees Quackity grinning. He says something. Dream can't hear it. It hurts too much to listen. It's too cold. Then he hits him. Takes him by the hair and slams his face hard against the wall. Once, twice, thrice. He can't see anything because of the blood that floods his eyes and he feels the metal on his tongue again, but now it's not a totem. Quackity asks something. Dream cries and the tears mix with the blood as he realizes he still can't listen. He is beaten until he loses consciousness. Then a healing potion is infused and more blows are given. He screams while his throat is restored by the potion, then wheezes then falls silent. Quackity is still not pleased. Dream thinks he's in a glacier. But everything around him is red, Ender, everything is so red! Blood is everywhere: on his body, on Quackity, on the walls, and in his eyes. And there is so much of it, why is there so much of it?! Quackity yells and knocks his teeth out. He kicks him in the stomach, cuts his skin, burns him. Dream screams even though he's half-dead and has absolutely no strength. Sam comes in. They yell together, but Dream doesn't understand who at whom. At him? At each other? He can't bring himself to listen. Quackity pulls out a pair of scissors and another totem. Dream whimpers. Sam walks away, and metal is shoved in his mouth again. The totem cracks and brings him back to life as Quackity stabs the scissors into his chest with all his might. About where his tortured heart beats frighteningly. He doesn't have the strength to scream. He wheezes and cries. And he is still cold. The next day, Quackity speaks first, and then he begins to beat. He wants Dream to write a letter to Technoblade, who still has a favor to pay him. And then something else breaks down in his head because Dream is laughing. Laughter bursts from within and he suffocates. He knows it's not normal, but it's so funny, he just can't get his lips to stop parting in a crazed smile. Everyone has abandoned him, everyone has forgotten him. Technoblade won't lift a finger to repay this favor and will just ignore him. Is Quackity so naive that he doesn't realize this? He ignored it the first time, so he'll do it again, and then again and again until Dream himself gets tired of reminding him of it and chooses to simply forget about that favor. For his smile, Quackity picks up the scissors again. He puts them to his eye and Dream can't stop. He freezes in fear and cries again. Quackity is pleased. The letter looks like some scribbles and there are bloodstains from his bleeding fingers, making it completely unreadable. His guest only snorts and immediately tosses the paper into the lava when he's done. He says he can handle it just fine without it. Quackity finishes surprisingly quickly that day. He leaves him in a pool of his own blood and gives him no totems or potions. Dream prays to die of blood loss. He falls asleep like that, basking in the cooling blood, and the next day he is awakened by the pounding mechanism of the bridge, telling him that Quackity is back. He has no strength to turn toward the wall of lava and remains lying motionless, trying to force himself to hold back the tears of terror that were already appearing in his eyes. Except it's not Quackity. He hears someone's voice, but he can't tell whose. Sam is talking to someone. A guard? The mechanisms clatter louder - the bridge is closer. Someone screams again. Someone is terrified and furious at the same time. The bridge is going away fast. Or does he imagine it is? The cell is cold and quiet again. The tears do begin to flow, and Dream shrinks a little, wasting what little strength he has left in such a minuscule action. He waits for Quackity to start, but instead, someone sits down behind him and gently touches his shoulders, trying to flip him over onto his back. "Dream." The stranger's low voice rings with tension "Dream. Please don't tell me you're dead in here." And he should be glad it's not Quackity, that it's someone else, but all he does is start sobbing harder. Somebody saw what was happening to him and they still don't care. Nobody cares about him. Never been. He chokes again in tears and is shaken by a small shiver that he has no control over. Oh, Ender, it's so cold in here. "No, Dream, let's not do that, you..." his voice sounds lost as if its owner doesn't know what to do "You know I'm not good at comforting anyone." He only cries harder and stretches out his hand, clinging with bloody fingers to the rough obsidian and trying to crawl to his corner. Let me die. Please. The guest is silent, watching his pathetic attempts and the half hour it takes for him to crawl to his chest, which is literally a few feet away from him, saying nothing. Dream curls up in a corner, almost completely covered by the chest, and notices that a trail of blood followed him as he crawled. He doesn't care about that, but the guest is clearly disturbed. Dream doesn't want to know who has come to see him. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the chest. He doesn't have the strength to hold it steady again. It is still quiet in the cell. The guest awkwardly takes a seat beside him. Wherever you sit in this little box it will feel like you're close by. "Dream?" The words are tentative and quiet. It's as if he's afraid to scare him. He doesn't want to admit that he's become the kind of man who shudders at the sound of other people's voices "Do you hear me? It's Technoblade." He hears the tearing of the fabric and shrinks fearfully, wincing and trying to suppress a whimper. The sound meant that Quackitiy wanted to choke him. "Hush, hush..." the piglin says quickly and seems to dip something into the sink water "I won't hurt you. I promise. Just... let me... at least wipe..." Technoblade sounds like he's trying to choose his words carefully "your face... or your hands... or what you're more comfortable with..." Nothing is comfortable for Dream, but he's silent and the piglin gets a little closer. Then he whimpers and huddles closer to the corner, feeling someone else's presence so close. Technoblade freezes and makes no further attempt to move. Quackity doesn't come the next day. Sam arrives - tosses a healing potion at him without lowering the netherite partition and leaves just as quickly. Dream mentally screams in despair. He could have tried to die of blood loss if he had had a little more time. The next day no one comes, and Technoblade makes another attempt to approach. Dream whimpers again. Piglin doesn't give up and for the next few days behaves to him like he's trying to tame a wild animal. And Dream doesn't understand how it happened, but a week later he's already sitting practically shoulder to shoulder with him, and Technoblade gently runs the wet torn sleeve of his shirt over his face, washing away the stale blood and still continuing to say nothing. Quackity still doesn't come. This is strange. "Dream." says the piglin after a few more days "I wanted to ask you to write it down... or tell me everything you know about the prison. We'll... we're gonna get you out of here." "No." He cuts sharply but it still comes quiet and hoarse. "Don't be ridiculous, Dream. I want to return the favor - I'll get you out of here." Technoblade almost whispers, and for some reason, the tears come back to his eyes. "Favor?" he pauses for a long moment, but doesn't really know what for "You can repay it in another way." The piglin's outstretched, pointed ears flinch slightly and lift up, showing that their owner is listening. "Kill." It gets quiet. Dream knows that asking Technoblade to kill someone is a small thing. So he's not surprised when he's not even going to object. "Who?" he merely asks after a few more moments of silence. "Me." Piglin remains motionless and is silent again. "You know I can't do that." Dream wants to cry again. Of course, his words are ignored. Technoblade will return the favor in a way that's convenient to him, and he doesn't care if it's not what Dream wants. For the next few days, they are silent. Dream sits in front of one of the walls and looks at the obsidian. It's still terribly cold in the cell. He feels like he's freezing. He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself. Technoblade in the other corner is silent, seemingly asleep. He sighs and bangs his head hard against the wall. The pain habitually begins to ring in his head. It seems as if his head is getting heavier as he lifts it up, only to hit it again with force. He does it again. And again. And again. The blood starts to flow down his face and Dream thinks there isn't much time left. Maybe this time it will finally work. "Dream! What are you doing?!" He's yanked sharply by the shoulders and pulled away from the wall, shaking him sensibly "What the fuck?!" He doesn't answer. Piglin, with noticeable horror in his eyes, starts wiping his forehead and tries to stop the blood. The next day, Techno tries to pull him away from the lava he was throwing himself into. After some more time, he has to stop Dream from hurting himself by holding his arms. Piglin curses. Then he yells, despite the way Dream whines fearfully at his screams. Then he realizes the futility of his actions and just starts holding him close to him. At first, he holds him under his side, covering his shoulders with his cloak. Somehow it gets warmer. The fur inside feels very soft and the cold is finally no longer such a problem. But he still dreams about Quackity, and he's still scared to live. When Techno falls asleep, Dream slips closer to the lava, but the piglin quickly realizes what he was trying to do and quickly nips it in the bud. Now instead of being at his side, Technoblade sits his small and weak body on his lap, cradling him with his strong arms and still covering him with his cloak on top. He wouldn't let him get up, and even in his sleep, he wouldn't let go, clinging to him in a way that even Quackity probably wouldn't have wrestled him out of. Not out of the piglin's grip. And Dream makes a discovery. Technoblade is warm. No, not like that. He's Warm. Piglin is like a living, walking furnace and... Ender, he doesn't feel cold. He doesn't feel it! He instinctively tries to snuggle closer, curling up as a little lump on his broad chest and warming himself. Techno says nothing, letting him, gently stroking his shoulders. The warmth finally dampens his thoughts, and Dream tries to keep this state as long as possible. He hardly ever lets go of the piglin's body, and if he has to pull away, he comes back very quickly, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose in his neck. He doesn't care how it looks. He's warm and that's enough. Techno still doesn't say anything to him. At least not about this. "Dream. I still need to know about the prison." Why? Why can't he just forget about it? Why does he need it so badly? He just wants peace of mind. The thought comes suddenly. Dream again spends what little strength he has left to lift his head and look into Technoblade's face. "Did someone else get locked in?" he asks, and forces himself to keep his head straight as best he can. The piglin's face darkens, and Dream thinks he's right. He wants to cry again. He would want to get angry, he would want to yell and be offended. He could hit Techno and crawl back to his corner without speaking to him again. But he's weak. Ender, he's so weak. All he has the strength to do is to snuggle back into his neck and squeeze his eyes shut, trying not to cry. It's pathetic. Techno strains as if he wants to say something, but Dream won't let him. "Chest. Buried on a mountain cliff. Where we were standing." He sobs and can barely hold back the small shudder "You know where. That's where all the blueprints are buried." He's waiting for Techno to push him away - he did what the Piglin wanted, after all. He gave him the information, which means he doesn't need Dream anymore. And now he's going to stop pretending that everything's okay, that they're friends - he's going to kick him off, hurt him, and walk away. They all do that at the end. And then it will get cold again. And there will be a lot of thoughts. Techno doesn't do that. He's probably waiting for the moment to hurt harder. But he's still grateful that he's letting him warm up a little more. Dream doesn't know how much time passes. A lot, it seems. In that time, they have time to test what happens if they use the ritual from the book of resurrection on the living. (Dream puts his name in, hoping it will work backwards and he will finally die. It doesn't work.) They summon the whole God and he gives them one wish. "Kill..." Techno barely has time to interrupt him, shouting out the first thing that comes into his head in terror. This is how a bell appears in their cell. Then a dog appears from somewhere in the cell. Dream doesn't know where from, but he is happy. Maybe it's just his hallucination, but even if it is, it's enough of a trick of his mind to make him feel as happy as he's ever felt. He runs his fingers through its fur and cries again. He just can't stop. The dog licks his hands, wags his tail cheerfully, trustingly props up his belly. Dream asks himself if he can die of happiness. Because it would be great. He falls asleep in Techno's arms, feeling his warmth and the way he covers him with his cloak as if shutting him off from the world. Only to be abruptly ripped from his arms the next day, painfully gripped by someone else's stiff fingers. Dream starts whimpering and crying at Quackity's touch even faster than he realizes it's him. The awakened Techno somehow snarls angrily and rushes toward him, trying to bring Dream back, but he is stopped by the sword that Quackity is pointing frowningly at him. "Don't you dare." He hisses angrily and grips his fingers harder. Dream chokes on his pathetic sounds. His mind fails. He comes back. The dream is over, now it will be like before. The screams, the tears, the thoughts. And pain. Dream is afraid. He breaks down again, he stops hearing and it's still noisy around him. He gets shaken up. He doesn't know what they want him to do. Then they hit him in the chest, knocking out all the air and he goes limp. They hit him in the stomach. He tries to shrink, but he can't do it. A heavy shoe sinks into his palm - Dream howls and sobs, muffling the crunch. Quackity kicks his foot in the face and blood fills his mouth astonishingly fast. He sees the scissors in his hands and begins to tremble. And then everything is so loud, everything is so fast, and Dream doesn't know what's going on. Quackity and Technoblade are circling the cell, as if ready to attack each other. But only one of them has a weapon. They shout, and Techno laughs for some reason, even if it sounds a little far-fetched. And then the piglin just... disappears? Quackity is furious. On that day, Dream was closest to his goal of dying. Quackity doesn't do it for his own pleasure this time, no. He is taking his anger out on him, and he is ruthless. Dream prays that he will go too far and finally kill him. That doesn't happen. And everything around him is red again. Then Sam comes in and kills the dog. Dream tries to lunge at him. He's ready to bite, to tear, to do anything. But his movements are so... slow. Weak. Sam just laughs. It's cold again. Again the world refuses to take him for dead. Crying again. How many tears are left in him? The next few days pass quietly. No one comes and it seems to him that everyone is dead. Has he been abandoned? Left behind? Or are they just letting him go crazy with his own thoughts? Everything seems strange. And then he dreams that for some reason Techno comes for him. Somehow pulls him out of jail. Grabs him in his arms and protects him from the guards and the whole server. It seems to him that the piglin is coming for him. Isn't he forgotten? The blueprints were for someone else, weren't they? Why does he want to cry again? Techno promises to protect him. Tucks into the top of his head, which is probably covered in blood, and takes him home. He showers him with light, almost weightless kisses. Dream doesn't want to die in this dream. He is no longer cold.