Chapter Text
They were supposed to be wed in spring. Nothing grand, just them amidst the myriads of flowers, congratulated by their close friends and family. It was never meant to be extravagant.
Simple, like how they met, in the changing of the seasons. Dream was a surging wave of determination; a diamond shining through the autumn leaves.
Fundy remembered their first meeting, in the bustling streets where the vendors lingered, promoting the fruits of their hardships. He caught the hand trying to pickpocket his belongings, only for him to willingly give it away.
Fundy wasn’t sure when he fell, but he knew he fell hard. In his desperation, he clung to Dream and it was as if his prayer was answered, when Dream fell with him.
He remembered the words they exchanged, the laughs they shared, the whispers in the night under the stars, promising a better future.
He remembered when he lost them all.
“Fundy, where are you off to in such a hustle so early in the morning?”
The ginger turned. His eyes met that of the jovial old man living just down the path from their quaint abode on the hill; an isolated place, but just the way Dream liked it to be and he couldn’t agree more. He jogged a few more paces before halting in front of his neighbour.
“I am off to pick up some groceries.” He replied, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. “Dream can’t make it today so I stand in.”
“Hear the poor lad caught a nasty cold,” the elder stated before a mischievous glint twinkled in his wise eyes. “You ought to look after your fiance more, especially since spring is almost here.”
As if on cue, Fundy blushed a brilliant shade of scarlet at the thought of their soon-to-be-held wedding; his lips twitched upwards uncontrollably as he scratched the back of his head to hide his flustered reaction.
“Okay, I will. Goodbye, gonna go.” Fundy finished off hastily. His legs fumbled as he brushed past the man who had started laughing, much to his embarrassment. He was not whipped. Definitely not. Fundy tried to convince himself, even when the redness of his cheeks could no longer be accounted for by the chilling winter wind.
“Fundy! Fancy seeing you here,” a middle aged woman smiled; the corner of her eyes wrinkled slightly as she brought out the fresh harvest from her farmhouse. “Dreamie can’t make it today?”
Fundy paused, breaking away from the mesmerising glitter of the golden apples and readjusted his grip on his basket.
“He caught a bad cold.”
“Oh dear, I hope it isn’t too bad,” she sighed as she set down another tray of golden apples before reaching for one that was slightly secured from view. “Here, this one is on the house. The best one of the batch. I hope he gets better soon.”
Receiving the apple with gratitude, Fundy couldn’t help but grin. “If I have known that it is that easy to get free items, I would have pulled the Dream card earlier.”
The remark earned him a round of laugh with the vendor next door joining in. The delightful sounds seemed to warm even the coldest winter air.
Neither bothered to deny the statement though.
It wasn’t exactly a secret that the villagers adored Dream; showering him in small gifts at every turn of the corners, which admittedly was why Dream ended up getting groceries for them most of the time. It was simply more economical that way. It was evident in the way the woman’s eyes softened at the mention of the name and it was in the gentle pat the old man gave to Fundy. They bled kindness, pouring it over the one who deserved the world and by proximity, the overwhelming kindness drenched Fundy who was, for the longest time, still taken back by the warmth.
“And you take care of yourself too,” she advised effortlessly, somehow making the statement more threatening than it was.
“Yes, madam.” Fundy laughed. The warmth in his chest seemed to overflow and the love shot through his veins, drumming in his ears. For a moment, he was overcome by pure, unrestrained joy.
Kindness was easy to give. Love was easier when it came to Dream.
There was a strange man at the side of the road.
He was dressed in black attire foreign to the village, holding onto a dark coloured umbrella that obstructed most of his face. The old man noted; his feet aching from his work in the field as he shoveled another pile of snow out of the walkway.
“Sir, do you need help?” He called out to the stranger.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I am just admiring the scenery.” The smooth, baritone voice resounded through the winter air as the man readjusted his collar in an equally well ordered manner. The air was crisp and the sky was moody that day, likely signalling an impending snowstorm.
“Well, okay then. Make sure to seek shelter by dusk. Demons lurk in the night,” the elderly warned, placing his trusty shovel to the side. “There is a village just down the road. I think there are still some rooms left in the inn. Not many people visited in the winter.”
“I see. Thank you.”
And the stranger was off, venturing further into the woods.
Dream was going to murder him. Fundy thought when he bid hasty farewell with the lads in the bar. He wasn’t going to linger. He swore but a tale spun into two and the rest was history.
The sky was darkening in the horizon and the sprinkles of snow grew a bit harsher. The wind picked up as if reprimanding him. Fundy shivered, pulling his winter cloak closer to his person and readjusted his grip on the goods he secured for the day, hoping that Dream wasn’t in a foul mood. Maybe he could offer him a bouquet as an apology, after he had left him for what was essentially the whole day despite his usual trip taking approximately half a day. Yeah, Fundy was in trouble.
If confronted, Fundy would deny that he rehearsed an apology in his mind a thousand times while attempting to come out with a passable excuse.
As their house appeared into his view, Fundy gulped. His steps steady as he scaled the stairs to their shared house, only to freeze at the sight of an open door. Ah, he was so dead. Taking a deep breath, Fundy mustered up his courage and marched, not unlike a prisoner on death roll, to the door. Nervously, he settled a hand on the handle of their front door.
“I am home, babe! Sorry for taking so long, I was with the lads down at the…” Fundy babbled out, setting down the bag of groceries by the door as he prepared to grovel for forgiveness. Only for him to pause at the sight of the unlit room.
“Dream?” Did he leave? Without closing the door? Panic struck him as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He allowed the door to slide open more as he stepped in fully, ignoring how the wind whipped and nipped at his back. His eyes were immediately drawn to another set of footprints on their wooden floors, unfamiliar and heavy, damp from the snow.
A distant thud alerted him and Fundy snapped out from his trance of horrible and worst scenarios. The noise appeared to be coming from the kitchen. Worry clenched his heart as he felt an uncomfortable drop in his stomach. Cold seized his beings; his fingers numbed. Move. He had to.
“Dream!” He rushed, not caring that his boots left more watermarks on the floor. Upon his exclamation, more noise emitted from the kitchen; muffled slightly by the wooden walls.
“Don’t…”
His eyes widened as he finally reached the centre of the commotion, only for his heart to drop at the sight of Dream; his fiance being held by his throat and a stranger looming over his figure. The former’s face was scarily pale as his fingers dug into the unyielding hands circling his windpipe in defiance. Red flashed, accompanied by the sickening dread pooling inside Fundy.
“What are you doing? Unhand him!” He demanded. Away , he had to get him away from Dream.
In the rush of strength that he didn’t know he possessed, the ginger tackled the man.
“Oh, what do we have here?” The strange male, completely unfazed by the intrusion, had the gall to turn leisurely, blocking Fundy with his spare hand as if it was a game of tag. A blink and Fundy’s world spiralled as he was hauled effortlessly away. His back clashed against the wall; his spine felt the beginning of the crack in the wooden texture while the back of his head throbbed painfully.
He hissed through clenched teeth, blinking back the dark spots as his eyes tried to focus on the assaulter. Black, inky hair framed the crimson eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dark. Fundy couldn’t decide what was more off putting, the prominent horns on the sides of his head, or the hint of sharpened fangs behind the parted lips.
“Don’t you dare…”
Fundy could barely register the whisper of his loved one when a grunt of pain echoed through the small space. He could, however, see the glint of the knife Dream had pulled, which had found its place buried into the side of the intruder. The reaction was immediate. The grip around the neck loosened, allowing a welcomed reprieve for Dream who slumped to the floor while violent coughs hacked through his frame. His instinct kicked in a second later, prompting Dream to clamber away from danger.
“Dream!” Fundy exclaimed, stumbling to his feet even when the lightheadedness threatened to bring him back down. He reached forward, eagerly dragging Dream into his embrace, trying but failing to ignore the growing bruises on his fiance’s neck. The other was still breathing heavily, no doubt that the combination of being sick and strangled was taxing. Fundy circled his arms around Dream protectively with his heart still thumping wildly as he rubbed Dream’s shoulders in an attempt to warm the other.
“Argh,” the man spat out. In one swift motion, he dislodged the knife, letting it fall along with the blood oozing from his wound to the floor. “I have just about enough with you!”
Fear. Fundy admitted that he was afraid, terrified even when the man’s scarlet eyes flashed with the promise of pain, death and everything in between. While the primal feeling seized him, froze his veins and sealed his lips, he found himself braver than he had ever been as he held onto Dream; his body positioned in such a way to shelter the other.
He remembered glaring at the face of the eerie intruder.
He remembered the chill down his spine as his eyes darted to seek an escape route.
He remembered pain blossoming in his skull.
He remembered telling himself to never let go.
“Fundy! Fundy!”
He remembered the call of his loved one as he slipped into darkness.
“Is he dead?”
Fundy heard someone mutter. He sensed the dampness of the dark wood floor of his house, felt the hint of light on his face. More importantly, he groaned at the sharp pain radiating from his temple.
“He lives!” Small gasps followed as he heard a couple of footsteps prattled across the floor.
“What hit me?” Fundy managed through a hiss of pain. His heavy eyelids struggled to open. Pure exhaustion dragged his mind into a never ending abyss. When he managed to peel them open, he was met with brightness. He blinked a few more times and was met face first with a brown haired teen, followed closely by a blonde haired teen. He would be concerned as to why there were two children in his very secured, up-in-the-hill house when his brain wasn’t busy screaming bloody murder at him. Instead, he blinked, hoping that by doing so, it would also refresh his memory as to what had occurred.
“I think you are attacked, sir.” The brunet spoke; a cautious politeness lacing his tone. He reached a hand towards Fundy, which Fundy accepted gratefully. His head spun for a moment but he managed to steady himself with the support of the teen. With a frown, Fundy rubbed his eyes. His mind came to a blank as to what had transpired, for him to lay asleep, unconscious even on the floor.
“By demons.”
The ginger froze. Like a floodgate that had been released in the middle of a rainstorm, his mind raced with flashing imagery. Cold. Snow. Dusk. Home. Stranger. Dream.
Dream.
Fundy spared a quick glance to his surroundings. Panic settled on top of the icy lake that was his heart before the weight of it broke through the fragile front of the ice, sinking deeper.
“Where’s Dream?” His voice was trembling. His eyes torn through the layout of his house; their house, taking in the ruined floor, the damages, the lack of familiarity in a place where he should be most familiar with.
“What are you talking about?” The blonde questioned; his tone easily made it sound as if Fundy was going crazy.
“He had been through a lot, be nice, Tommy.” His companion elbowed the blonde subtly.
“Hey, Tubbo! I was being nice!” ‘Tommy’ argued; his hands crossed over his chest in a display of displeasure. His glance unimpressed but Fundy couldn’t care less.
“Where’s Dream?”
“Who?”
“My fiance.” Fundy’s voice finally broke. Despair sank its teeth into his throat as he choked back a sob. “Where’s my fiance?”
The two teens exchanged nervous glances.
“There is no one else here when we arrived.” The brunet, now known as Tubbo finally said after a pregnant silence. The implication was heavy in the air, sickening even as Fundy digested the words. Rereading it in his head before spitting it back out, praying to whatever God above that it was just a nightmare. Yet, as the sun streamed through the windows of their ruined sanctuary, his prayer left unanswered in the wind. The truth slowly sank in. The ring burned into his finger.
“Look,” Tubbo began. His eyes shone with such empathy that wasn’t supposed to be present in people of his age. “We are from the Demon Slayer Corp. If you need help, you can come with us.”
Fundy didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed their uniforms underneath their colourful haori. Then again, Fundy didn’t realise a lot of things.
He didn’t realise when he had let go.
He didn’t realise that the sight of Dream in his arms would be the last.
He didn’t realise how reliant he was.
He didn’t realise a lot of things.
In the distance, the pink bud of the wildflowers began to sneak past the melting snow. Spring.
