Archive of Our Own

Quackity watches the sunset alone. It's part of his routine to be out under the darkening sky, watching the warm oranges be shot through with reds, coloring it a rich violet that eventually turns to deep blue, swallowing the remaining rays of the sun to make room for the brightness of the moon and sparkling stars. It leaves him with a sense of satisfaction, to rise with the sun, work hard throughout the day, and every night watch as the sun sinks back down while he takes a walk.

To the prison.

As the colors soften and fall away, he admires the unique masterpiece painted before his eyes and on display for one night only, until he has to enter somewhere that only knows the cold beauty of glittering obsidian and shrieks of fear.

Quackity appreciates that he can watch the sunset and the sunrise every day. Because the prisoner he is visiting cannot.

That's the most satisfying part.

By the time Quackity arrives, nighttime has properly begun. Sam greets him at the prison entrance, and the two of them chat idly about Las Nevadas business as they go through the process of entering the prison. Signing waivers, securing his things in a locker, going through each security check, passageway, and moving floor.

Taking the weapons that Sam hands him.

Once he makes it to the main holding cell, something like anticipation but less jittery curls in his gut. In front of them, blocking the cell from view, is a thick wall of cascading lava. The heat radiating off it is so intense he can smell it, but Quackity has grown used to the feeling. Sam presses a button on the wall, and they both wait for the lava to recede. Quackity can hear the clicks that indicate the draining has started, but it will take several moments to actually finish.

“You ready?” Sam asks.

Quackity gives a small smirk. “Always am.”

The lava finally reveals the prisoner waiting for him on the other side. His matted hair hangs down to his shoulders, the simple clothes Sam gave him are long tattered and stained, and his skin is as white as the mask he once wore to cover his face.

Sam flicks a lever, and the moving bridge carries Quackity across the searing orange sea, coming to a stop when it meets the edge of the obsidian box. Stepping off, Quackity listens as the bridge makes its return journey. He feels the heat increase along his back as the lava falls back into place, and he knows when it’s completely returned because the barrier in front of him, separating him and the prisoner, drops.

“Hello Dream.”

He moves further into the cell, going towards a spot on the wall he knows has the perfect grooves for him to wedge the hooks he brought with him in. Dream mirrors his movements, keeping as much space between them as he can for now. “How are we feeling today, hm? Feeling cooperative?” He pulls out an axe, a wicked one made of netherite with jagged edges. He twirls it casually in his hand by the handle as he looks Dream over. “Or are we feeling like picking which toy we want to play with?” He hangs the axe up on its hook, then does the same to its twin sword. It’s not until he pulls out a pair of freshly sharpened shears that Dream speaks.

“We don’t have to do this, Quackity. I’m never giving you the book, and you’re never gonna stop trying to get it. Where does that leave us? Nowhere. We both lose.”

Quackity chuckles lightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” He selects the sword, plucking it from the wall and meandering his way over to Dream as he talks. “Because at the end of the day, you’re stuck in here, while I get to come and go as I please. I’m free, and you’re trapped, forever. Or at least, until I get bored of you and decide to just kill you. This one ok for today?” He holds up the sword in question, but instead of waiting for an answer he immediately brings it down on Dream’s arm.

Dream shrieks, clutching his injured arm and scrambling to get away from Quackity, but there’s nowhere to go. He ends up on the ground, scrunched against a wall. Usually there's more build up before he gets really aggressive, liking to start slow so when things escalate, Dream is more likely to give in, but Quackity is feeling impatient today. “Feel like giving me the book yet?” Quackity strikes Dream’s other arm, gaining another cry of pain. “How about now?” Quackity takes the tip of the sword and hovers it over Dream’s stomach, slowly pushing until it just pierces the soft flesh there, twisting it back and forth instead of driving it further in. Dream lets out an ungodly noise, something between a strangled cry and a pained gasp. That’s a new one he hasn’t heard yet. “Give me the book, Dream.”

“S- stop, stop, please!” Dream sobs.

“You have the power to make this stop whenever you want, Dream. Just hand over the Revive Book.”

When Dream doesn’t respond, Quackity sneers, yanking the sword out and grinding his heel into the wound left behind. Dream wails, his pleas quickly filling the room, but there’s no one besides Quackity to hear him.

“Stop! Help! He- help, stop!”

Quackity laughs, head thrown back with the force of it. “Who are you calling to for help, Dream?” There was a point in time when Dream would call for Sam, but he stopped quickly after realizing the Warden would be of no help to him. “You’re all alone. It’s just you and me in here.”

Quackity pulls his boot away, watching as Dream curls up on his side, clutching his stomach with both of his bleeding arms. A low groan of pain escapes him. It didn’t take long for Dream to lose his careful control over his reactions.

“Hm, how much blood are you losing there, Dream?”

Dream’s eyes snap open, realizing what Quackity means. “N- no, I’m fine, re- really,” he forces out while failing in his attempts to prop himself up. “It’s not- that much.”

Quackity kicks his exposed back. Dream collapses with a gasp, then groans again, a long, drawn out sound that Quackity realizes is him moaning the word “no.”

“Liar.” Quackity reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bottle of bright red liquid and removing the stopper with a pop. “Tsk tsk, we can’t have you bleeding out Dream, now can we? Not yet, at least.”

Quackity bends down, kneeling beside Dream. “Wait, wait!” Dream holds out a frantic hand, speaking between pained breaths. “W- wait. Just- listen. Listen to me.” Quackity pauses.

“I’m listening, Dream.”

Dream tries to sit up, grunting at the effort. He gives up when he’s half slouched against the wall, his neck surely aching from the odd angle it’s at while the rest of his body from the chest down is still curled awkwardly on the ground. Quackity holds back a laugh as he watches.

“What if- we made a deal. Instead of giving you the book and- making you have to go through the process of learning it, I could be your personal Revive Book. Whenever you want to use it, on whomever you want, I have to revive them. No questions asked. And if I hesitate or don’t listen even once, you kill me.”

Quackity cocks his head, pretending to consider the idea. “So…you would follow me around, and I would order you to revive people? And you have to do it, no matter what?”

Dream starts to nod quickly before wincing at the movement. “Yes, exactly.”

Quackity rests a finger on his chin, humming mockingly in thought before shooting Dream an exaggerated pout. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” Then he grabs Dream by the throat, slamming his body weight into him to keep his head pinned against the wall.

Dream gasps, futilely grasping at Quackity’s hold with his blood slicked hands. “You think I’m going to let you go free?  You’re more out of your mind than I thought.” He leans in close enough for Dream to feel his breath as he speaks his next words, slowly and quietly. “You are never getting out of here.” 

He pulls away, bringing his other hand to Dream’s face and pressing the health potion against his mouth. Dream struggles, trying to twist away to keep the liquid from sliding past his lips, but Quackity holds him in place, putting a knee on his chest to keep him pinned while he forces Dream’s mouth open, pouring the potion down his throat. He quickly covers Dream’s mouth, watching to make sure he swallows before releasing him, rising to his feet. Stepping back, he pockets the now empty bottle and wipes Dream’s blood and spit off on his pants while Dream hacks and coughs. Sitting up, Dream shoves a hand down his own throat, trying to make himself throw up but it’s no use. The potion has already taken effect, and Quackity watches as Dream’s wounds close themselves back up, leaving nothing but thin scars behind.

“Well Dream,” Quackity picks his sword back up, advancing until he’s once again standing over Dream. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.” Dream watches helplessly as he approaches, letting out a final, barely audible “please” before he brings the sword down across Dream’s chest.

Sapnap watches the sunset with dread, Karl clutching his hand tightly beside him. George isn’t here but he’s just inside, refusing to wait with them but standing by with freshly brewed potions and scraps of cloth stacked next to cold water. Sapnap watches as the colors bleed into each other and can’t help but wish that he had even a drop of his own to show. His pain remains invisible, untraceable. He’s lucky Karl and George haven’t written him off as insane. 

He tries to breathe through the quickening of his pulse as darkness creeps closer. Once, he would have appreciated this moment, slowing down to admire the way the stars slowly peek out behind the colorful display. But now, all Sapnap can see with each new star that appears is another grain of sand falling through the hourglass of time he has remaining. 

He feels Karl nudge his shoulder, causing him to turn. “We should probably head in now,” Karl says softly, carefully. Karl and George have both been painfully careful with him lately.

“Just a little longer.” Sapnap faces the darkening sky again. “I want to finish watching the sunset.” 

In truth, Sapnap doesn’t want to watch the sunset. But as much as he’s grown to hate it, he hates what comes afterwards more. He doesn’t want to go inside and face what is waiting for him, ever. Even though he would have to face it no matter where he was. Delaying going inside is a false way for him to put off the inevitable, a lie he tells himself to conjure false comforts in the moment. He doesn’t know if it's his death grip on him or the patheticness of his request that keeps Karl still.

Together, they silently watch the sky until no trace of the sun is left, and the stars are clear amidst the darkness. The moment nighttime has officially set in, the door behind them opens. 

“Sapnap.” 

He turns at the sound of George calling him. When their eyes meet, Sapnap sighs, relinquishing his grip on Karl and rising, Karl right behind him. 

George moves to the side, holding the door open for them. Sapnap heads into the bedroom before he can hear it shut.

The fireplace is lit, casting a dim glow over the room. To the left of it is Sapnap’s bed, waiting for him with clean sheets and soft blankets. The side-table against the wall has various items on it that Sapnap had seen Karl bring in earlier, and George’s chair is pushed back underneath the window to allow George easy access to them. In a corner stands a full water basin with misshapen chunks of ice floating inside, a basket of soft scraps of cloth next to it. 

Sapnap strips off his outer layers until he’s down to a thin t-shirt and shorts, before crawling into his bed. He’s just settled against the propped up pillows when Karl enters, moving to sit in a chair beside him. Their hands immediately find each other again. George follows closely behind, shutting the door gently before taking his place at Sapnap’s other side.

“You ready?” George asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Sapnap says with a half smile. Karl squeezes his hand lightly.

George picks up the book from the nightstand and passes it to Karl before turning to stare sternly out the window, pretending he isn’t watching Sapnap out of the corner of his eye. Karl takes the book, opening it and bracing it against the bed as he begins to read aloud.

The soothing sound of Karl's voice fills the room, regaling them with a tale from his collection while they wait. Sapnap closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in the lives of villagers working to solve a murder. It’s a nice distraction.

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupts on his arm. Sapnap jerks at the sensation, releasing Karl’s hand to clutch at the spot and gasping in surprise, stopping Karl mid-sentence. George’s head whips around.

“Sapnap?” Karl asks worriedly, putting his book down. “Has it-”

He’s cut off again when Sapnap cries out at the same pain being mirrored on his other arm. Most of the time, Sapnap gets a warning of sorts, with little twinges of pain preceding the more intense, all-consuming agony that befalls him every night. But it seems that this will be one of the times where it’s a sudden burst of pain out of nowhere instead of a steady lead up.

“Sapnap.” It’s George’s voice. “Are you with us? Tell us what’s happening, what can we do-”

Whatever George says next, Sapnap doesn’t hear it over the roaring that starts in his ears as a piercing pain erupts in his stomach. He sits up fully, only to curl in on himself, hunching forward over his stomach like he can shield it from what’s happening. His arms, that are still bent awkwardly from the earlier ache, are trapped against his stomach, pressing into the spot. He presses down harder as the feeling changes from a sharp, concentrated point to something deeper and wider, like someone clawing at his guts from the inside and trying to rip them out of the way so they can crawl out. Sapnap realizes he’s making loud, panicked noises, ones he’s never heard come out of his own mouth before, and distantly thinks they’re fortunate to have no one else living in Kinoko who can hear him.

“Sapnap, let me see, please, Sapnap-” He looks up to see George lightly tugging at his shoulder, trying to get him to uncurl himself so George can check his stomach, even though they all already know there will be nothing there. Sapnap just groans in response, resisting George’s gentle efforts to move him and curling tighter into himself instead.

“Fuck- holy fucking- oh Prime."  Sapnap squeezes down harder on his stomach, shutting his eyes against the onslaught of pain. He feels someone’s hand fight its way in between his knees and arms, and he knows without looking that it’s Karl, letting him seek out Sapnap’s hand with his own to interlock them. Sapnap holds on for dear life.

As suddenly as the pain appeared, it vanishes, only to return tenfold. Sapnap screams, clamping down on Karl’s hand so hard he hears Karl yelp. His stomach is burning, it’s everything he was feeling before but amplified and worse and Sapnap thinks how anything would be better than this, that he would take what he was feeling moments ago over whatever the fuck this is.

“What can I do?” George asks frantically. “Tell me how to help, whatever it is you need. Let me help you.”

Sapnap can barely manage to shake his head, and he definitely can’t speak. There’s nothing George can do for him. He doesn’t even know how to help himself, how can he ask something of George if he doesn’t know what will fix this?

He rides out the waves of pain while keeping everything as tightly compressed as he can. His stomach, his arms, his hands, his eyes, all of them being pressed down or clung to or shut tight. It’s the only thing he can do to brace himself, to carry himself through it while he waits to get to the other side.

Sapnap doesn’t know how long it takes for the pain to ease up. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been seconds, he has no idea. He does know that the relief allows him to breathe properly again. 

He slowly counts to ten in his head before he loosens his hold on Karl, making sure it really is gone this time. “Sapnap?” Karl asks. “Are you- is it over?”

Slowly straightening up, Sapnap opens his eyes to face him, and is confused when he finds that his vision is blurry. Karl pulls his hoodie sleeve over his hand and brings it up to Sapnap’s face, gently wiping away his tears. “I’m ok,” Sapnap says softly, his voice hoarse and cracking over the syllables like dead leaves. “It’s gone for now.”

“Do you want to lie down?”

Sapnap’s head swivels to face George, whose eyes are an angry red around the edges. Sapnap nods, and George reaches forward to adjust the stack of pillows before helping to carefully lower Sapnap so he’s comfortably propped against them again. Karl massages the back of Sapnap’s hand while George moves to the water basin in the corner of the room, dunking a soft scrap of cloth into it and wringing it out before folding it neatly in half to bring to Sapnap. He swipes Sapnap’s sweaty bangs out of the way, wiping his face down gently with one side of the cloth before flipping it over to rest on his forehead. He mutters a “thank you” and George nods jerkily before moving to stand next to Sapnap’s hip.

“Can I check?” George asks, hands hovering over the hem of Sapnap’s shirt. When Sapnap gives him the go ahead, George pushes the shirt up Sapnap’s torso to expose the part of his stomach he had been clutching. Sure enough, the skin there is unmarred, bereft of any signs of damage. “I still don’t understand,” George mutters, making eye contact with Sapnap and he knows they’re thinking the same thing. What would usually be the answer to this is impossible now. “There’s no pattern to it. You feel different things, in different places, it comes and goes for no reason-”

“It always happens at night,” Karl chimes in. “And even though it lasts for different amounts of time, it’s always over before morning.”

“Ok, but what does that really tell us?” George collapses into his chair. “Sapnap isn’t allergic to the night, like, it just doesn’t make any fucking sense. This has been going on for almost two weeks now. What are we supposed to do? Is there anything we can do? Are we doomed to-” George cuts himself off with a sharp intake of breath. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok George,” Sapnap reassures, waiting until George meets his eyes before continuing. “None of us know what the fuck is going on. It’s frustrating.”

George huffs. “Yeah, more for you than anyone else.” 

Sapnap doesn’t answer, instead sinking further into the pillows, letting his eyes drift shut. 

But the night isn’t done with him yet. Sapnap’s eyes fly open with a curse as his chest explodes in pain, making him flinch so hard that Karl loses his grip on him and George has to lunge forward to keep him from tumbling off the side of the bed.

This is how the three of them spend their nights now; Sapnap lying helpless in bed, reacting to pain that isn’t there while Karl and George can do nothing but watch. They’re all equally at a loss over what to do or where to turn for help. All they can do is brace one another against the night, battling invisible enemies they’re not even sure are there.

Karl has always been obsessed with soulmates. Since he first heard of their existence, he’s learned all he could about them, reading everything from first hand accounts to research studies to old legends. He's enamored with the idea, and though lots of people don't believe in it, Karl firmly does. 

Not everyone has a soulmate, but those who do are bound together by their very souls. These bonds can grow in strength or weaken over time, depending on the relationship between those who are bonded. A relationship that is healthy and flourishing strengthens the bond, sometimes coming with additional abilities such as telepathic communication or the ability to summon your soulmate to your side. These cases are few and far between though, and every first hand account Karl could find had a different ability gained. A relationship that begins to deteriorate, through things such as bitterness, hatred, or distance, can also weaken and even, in some cases, break bonds. 

The one thing that seems to be consistent across all existing bonds, however, is the sharing of physical pain. All known soulmates reported the same thing; if their soulmate experienced pain that was severe enough to cause damage, they would feel that pain as if it was being inflicted on them. A pinch or pulled muscle wouldn’t be felt, but a fall from a decent height or the glancing blow of a sword would be enough to carry through the bond.

This is what Karl believes is happening to Sapnap.

All the signs are there. The pain that comes from nowhere, the resemblance of what Sapnap’s feeling to an injury, based on how he describes them to feel like wounds. As for the question of “why now,” Karl knows that soulmates aren’t usually aware of each other until later in life. Even though the bond is always there, you may not feel things strongly right away. It can start off as a small twinge or slight brush of something on the edge of your consciousness until you meet or properly bond. 

Karl had always secretly hoped he and Sapnap would turn out to be soulmates. He distantly recalls wishing for two soulmates once, something else he knew was possible, but now the only soulmate he wanted was Sapnap. Karl had wanted one all his life, and after meeting Sapnap, he knew that if he could pick anyone in the world to be bonded to, he would pick him.

That's why this theory is killing him. He doesn’t want to look into it, or even voice it aloud, because that might make it true. But he can't deny that after witnessing it with his own eyes, it was the first possibility to come to mind. He has to bring it up to George. But when he does, George shuts him down immediately.

“If Sapnap had a soulmate, I would know about it,” George said firmly, putting an end to the conversation. He walked away, no longer interested in what Karl had to say.

It caught Karl off guard. He had expected resistance from George, but he thought George would be averse to the concept of soulmates as a whole, not the possibility of Sapnap’s soulmate. After shaking off the shock, Karl chases after him, trying to get George to take him seriously. But George refused to entertain the idea and insisted Karl look for a different solution, because this wasn’t it.

Which led them here; doing tests to try and help Sapnap combat the pain while Karl works on finding what’s causing it. He does research and devises the experiments, then has George help conduct them while he takes notes of any changes. His goal is for the tests to help ease the pain, but so far they’ve all ended with Karl returning to the drawing board. He tries to use the experiments and his observations to determine why this is happening to Sapnap, attempting to forget his soulmate theory and search beyond that.

Tonight, Karl wants to test golden apples. He’s tried regen and healing potions already, including having Sapnap take them ahead of the pain and during it, but they had no effect. So Karl has turned to golden apples, preparing them a few different ways for Sapnap to try. He ground some into a paste to spread over the areas Sapnap says hurt, turned some into juice mixed with glistering melons, and of course had a whole, untampered with one to eat raw. He had considered making a serum with one, to inject directly into Sapnap’s body, but there were too many unknowns with how that would affect Sapnap long term and he decided against it.

Sapnap sits propped up in bed, cushioned by pillows. George is by his side, cool compress on standby. Karl sits at the desk they had dragged in for him and pulls out his journal, quill at the ready.

“Sapnap,” Karl calls his attention from where he’s been staring unseeingly out the window. “As soon as you feel something, eat the golden apple.”

“All of it?”

“All of it,” Karl confirms. “If nothing changes in five minutes, we’ll try the paste. The drink will be last. Questions?” Karl looks at Sapnap, and then George. They both shake their heads. “Alright.” He claps his hands together. “Let’s see what happens.”

Sapnap picks up the golden apple, staring down at it as he slowly rotates glossy fruit in his hand. It’s quiet as they wait, the last remaining light of the day fading away outside. Soon the only sources of light are the fireplace George had lit earlier, and the candles next to Karl.

Eventually, Sapnap lifts the fruit to his mouth and takes a bite. 

“It started?” Karl asks.

Sapnap nods, taking another slow bite.

Karl starts scribbling in his journal, noting the time and what’s happening. “Where?”

“My ribs, kind of near the center of my chest.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Um, it was sharp? For like a second, but now it’s less, more dull. Like I was punched, or maybe kicked?”

“Does it feel like it’s decreased? When exactly did-”

“Karl,” George cuts him off. “Let Sapnap finish eating.”

“Right,” Karl says, putting his quill down. “Sorry.”

“Wow, Karl, trying to get me to talk with my mouth full?” Sapnap teases, smiling at him cheekily. Karl couldn’t have resisted smiling back if he wanted to. “Unfortunately for you, I was raised to have manners."

George snorts. “Sure you were. And I was raised in the Nether.”

Sapnap just smiles around his next bite.

Karl and George watch Sapnap eat. Karl knows they’re both watching how the veins in his neck become more strained, his grip on the sheets tighter. It normally starts like this. Pain manageable enough for Sapnap to stamp it down, try and maintain some semblance of control. Then it escalates, morphs into something so intense it has Sapnap screaming, thrashing and flinching away from invisible forces that want to hurt him. 

Sapnap finishes the apple. Karl writes down the time, noting to check on how Sapnap is feeling in five minutes.

“Sapnap.”

Karl’s head whips up to see George bracing Sapnap against the pillows. 

“I’m fine.” Sapnap attempts to wave George off, but he can’t hide his next flinch, his shoulder jerking backwards. 

Karl chews on his bottom lip. He wants to wait the full five minutes before they move on to the next test. What if the apple needs time to set in?

Sapnap has broken out into a sweat. George grabs one of the cold, damp cloths, gently draping it over Sapnap’s forehead. Sapnap jerks again, and George presses down on the cool compress, keeping it in place. 

“Where does it hurt, Sapnap?”

“My- uh, shoulder. And arm.” Sapnap’s voice is strained.

“How much does it hurt?”

“Um, a lot.” Sapnap lets out a groan. “Prime, I feel like my arm is gonna fall off.”

“Ok, do you feel-”

Sapnap yelps, drawing his hand to his chest where he cradles it with his other hand.

“...Sapnap?” 

“My- my fingers, they just- it feels weird."

Karl frowns. “Weird how?”

“I dunno, like-” the hand Sapnap is cradling spasms. “What the fuck is that! What-” Sapnap full body flinches this time, moving from holding his own hand to clutching his arm again. 

"Karl." George is staring at him, frigid steel in his gaze.

“Right.” He guesses they aren’t waiting the full five minutes. “George, grab the paste. Spread as much as you want over the areas where Sapnap is hurting.”

George doesn’t bother responding, just starts moving to do as told. He picks up the bowl with the paste, scooping a generous amount onto his fingers and murmuring to Sapnap gently to let his arm go so George can apply it. Sapnap tries to hold still, but his arm still jerks a few times, getting some of the paste onto the bed sheets. When George rolls the sleeve of Sapnap’s t-shirt up to get his shoulder too, Sapnap cries out in pain, yanking away from George’s touch. George practically leaps back, fumbling with the bowl and barely managing to not drop it. He presses himself against the wall opposite Sapnap, eyes wide and knuckles white where they grip the dish.

“Sapnap?!” Karl shoots up from his chair. “Sapnap, what happened? Was it the paste?”

“N-no, it was- fuck, was from inside, not- not George-”

Sapnap has talked about this before. About how sometimes, the sudden bursts of pain feel like they’re coming from inside him, right underneath his skin, instead of from the outside onto him. 

“It burns- it’s like-” Sapnap gasps. “I don’t know, it just hurts, fuck-"

“George, give him the drink.” Karl’s instructions seem to snap George out of whatever daze he was in. He rushes back to Sapnap’s side, grabbing the bottle and struggling to hold Sapnap in place while bringing the drink to his lips.

“A little help?” George grits out, and Karl stops his writing mid-sentence, dropping his quill and hurrying to help restrain Sapnap with one arm, his other coming up to support his head so George can tilt the liquid easily into his mouth.

“Swallow, Sapnap, you gotta swallow,” George urges, not quite succeeding in keeping the panic out of his voice.

Sapnap obeys, gasping once the liquid is down. His entire body is stiff and trembling, his hair plastered to his forehead and the scrap of cloth discarded somewhere on the floor in the various scuffles. George looks to Karl. “I don’t think it’s working.”

Karl turns away, unable to meet George’s eyes. He retrieves his journal and quill, then moves his chair to sit beside Sapnap’s bed, settling down to wait the rest of the evening out. With one hand, he continues recording the events of the evening. The other is clutched in Sapnap’s, letting him hold on as tight as he needs to while he rides out the waves of pain, his occasional grunts and curses filling the air.

George switches between swapping out the cool compress and physically helping to brace Sapnap until the agony subsides, leaving an exhausted Sapnap to immediately pass out as soon as his body gains relief. George falls asleep not long after, slumped over in his chair on the other side of Sapnap’s bed, his head and arms resting on the bed next to Sapnap’s legs.

Karl finishes his notes, and then just watches. He watches as the sun creeps over the horizon, its first few rays slowly traveling over George and Sapnap’s sleeping forms. They both look so peaceful, as if nothing could trouble them with what looks to be a beautiful, sunny day on the rise.

Another failure. Even though it was to be expected, Karl still struggles to swallow against the lump in his throat. He’ll just have to try again. Try harder. Search his books more for some miracle answer, as he feels around blindly for something, anything, that can save Sapnap from this hell. Save them all.

George remembers the day he found out they were soulmates. It was years before Kinoko, before he'd met Karl, before they had chosen this place to settle down in, building a community house to share resources and memories between friends. It had been an unassuming sunny day, running around like normal with Sapnap and Dream. George had climbed a tree- he wasn't sure why anymore, maybe just because he'd felt like it- and Dream had been yelling at him to get down while failing to fight back his wide grin. Sapnap was a few feet away, cackling at the way Dream was waving his arms around in a pathetic show of preparing to catch George, and he only goaded George into climbing higher.

He remembers hearing the snapping of too thin branches beneath him. The feeling of his stomach dropping out of his body when there was nothing but air under him, scrambling to grab any of the branches ripping at his arms as he fell, and failing. He briefly recognizes the sound of Sapnap and Dream's panicked yelling before he hits the ground.

George yelps in pain, clutching the arm he landed on while trying to break his fall. But he looks up when he hears twin pained gasps, eyes flying to Dream and Sapnap instantly. Dream is next to George, clearly having made an attempt to get to him. But instead of closing the minimal distance left between them, Dream was on the ground too, also clutching his arm and examining it, his brow furrowed. George looks to Sapnap, who is still several feet away from them but in a similar position, bent over and clutching the same arm they are while looking between them, bewildered.

“Dream?” George looks to him for answers. “What…are you ok?”

Dream’s gaze snaps back to George, shaking his head as he crawls over to George’s side. “Sorry George, I didn’t catch you.”

“It’s ok, just…what’s wrong with your arm?”

“Don’t worry about it, I think I hurt it without realizing when I tried to get to you. Are you ok though?”

“I’m fine, but I think I broke my arm,” George says, wincing when he tries to move it to help Dream better support it. 

“Sapnap,” Dream turns to call him over to help, but the rest of his request dies on his tongue when he sees that Sapnap is still staring at the two of them.

“Sapnap? What’s wrong?” George’s voice seems to register because Sapnap blinks rapidly, before slowly moving over to join them on the ground.

“Where did you hurt your arm, George?”

“Uh, here.” George points to the part of his left arm that Dream is currently supporting.

“And Dream, where did your arm hurt?”

Dream pauses. “It- the same spot. On my left arm.”

Sapnap nods, and George watches understanding pass over Dream’s features.

“What?” George glances between them, clearly missing something. “What is it?”

“When you fell,” Sapnap begins as he moves to help Dream in bringing George to his feet without jostling his arm too much, “I saw it happen, almost in slow motion. Like, when you know something bad is about to happen from afar, and you can’t do anything but watch?”

George nods in understanding.

“So, I saw that at the same moment you hit the ground, Dream grabbed his arm and fell over too. And,” Sapnap’s left arm that is currently wrapped around George’s back flexes at the memory, “my arm hurt too. In the same spot.”

“...what does that mean?”

“It means,” Dream says, starting to lead George away from the offending tree so he and Sapnap can begin patching him up, “the three of us are soulmates.”

From that moment forward, George’s view of the world had changed. For one, soulmates were real, and he just so happened to have two in the form of both his best friends. But now that they knew their own injuries had consequences for all of them, they took to being more careful. No more carefree, reckless stunts from George (or at least unreasonable ones). They each invested in good sets of armor, and while the roughhousing and adventuring didn’t end, there was an added layer of caution from all of them with the knowledge that when one of them gets hurt, all of them suffer. 

Learning they were soulmates didn’t change much beyond that. George, Sapnap, and Dream were best friends, always had been and always would be, and knowing their souls were bonded didn’t really change what they already knew about each other. It was a fact they’d always known. The sky was blue, gravity made things fall, George, Dream, and Sapnap were soulmates. They loved each other unendingly, were closer than any of their other friends, closer than brothers, and as long as they had each other they were content.

One day, their adventures had led them to the area that would one day be known as the Greater SMP. The three of them decided to put a hold on their adventures for a little bit in favor of briefly settling down with a few of their friends. In addition to the houses and farms they each built for themselves, they constructed a communal house to share resources with one another, and every day was filled with laughter, smiles, and new memories under the warmth of the sun. Things were good. They never thought peace would be something they wanted, but this serene chapter of their lives must be what peace felt like.

Then Tommy arrives, bringing a myriad of conflicts with him. It’s not until Wilbur shows up, taking the mildly inconvenient and incredibly annoying antics they were used to from Tommy and turning them into something of much greater consequence, that Dream pulls both George and Sapnap aside to discuss hiding their soul bond.

It's not like they had been flaunting it before, but it's not something they go out of their way to conceal either. The friends they had been close with in the early days of the SMP surely knew, but none of them posed a threat. Callahan has long since vanished, Alyssa had already set off on her own, and Bad, as much as the gossip he is, would never cause harm to them. However, Wilbur and Tommy were often pitting themselves against the three of them, especially Dream, in conflicts. This brought about reasonable concern on Dream's part that, if knowledge about their soul bond got around, it could be used against them. So although it was something they were proud of, George and Sapnap agreed to keep it a secret.

None of them ever go anywhere without full armor after that, even George who was lazy at best and forgetful at worst. All three of them were proficient, if not excellent in battle, but there was extra emphasis put on maintaining their combat skills. Their bond was surprisingly easy to hide, especially in the chaos of skirmishes where no one notices when you let a wince slip that isn’t from one of your own injuries.

Something they didn’t prepare for was the distance that started growing between them. Dream had been steadily closing himself off from most everyone, but now he was even shutting George and Sapnap out too, keeping his thoughts, feelings, even trivial details of his day to day, under lock and key. As Dream retreated further, so did Sapnap and George, but it was odd being without their third. They were able to find new companions in Karl and Quackity, but George still found himself wandering around alone more often than not, eventually preferring to lose himself amongst the trees in the forests. That’s where he meets a new friend, someone other-wordly and with the power to give George whatever he wanted, as long as he convinced him to. George got lost in him for a while too.

He should’ve expected their soul bond to break. All three of them were hiding from one another in their own way, they barely counted as friends at that point. Funnily enough, the way they discovered their bond had been severed was similar to how they found they were bonded in the first place; George falling.

Word had reached him of Dream’s imprisonment. George felt more alert than he had in months, taking off in the direction of the prison without a moment's hesitation. He had to see for himself, had to get to Dream and hope that wherever Dream was, Sapnap wasn’t too far, like it used to be.

He had spotted Sapnap just as he was coming to the top of a hill, and of course, in classic clumsy George fashion, he had tripped on his way down, hurting his leg. 

And Sapnap hadn’t felt a thing.

So whatever was happening to Sapnap now, it couldn’t be the soulmate bond. It had been broken for months now. And that meant there was nothing George could do to help him.

He tries to be helpful in any way he can. Karl has been focused on finding a cause and a cure, so George has taken on the role of caretaker, his days now filled with tending to both Sapnap’s and Karl’s needs. While Karl is busy researching in his library and coming up with new wild experiments for them, George keeps things stocked and ready for them. He washes and changes the bedsheets, fills up the water basin, cuts chunks of ice to keep the water cold, chops wood for the fireplace, prepares food and brings some to Karl when he forgets to eat, runs odd errands that Karl can't be bothered to get dragged away from his work to do himself. And on the days Sapnap doesn't join Karl in his library and stays behind to rest instead, George stays with him, watching over him while he sleeps. 

Today is one of the rare days Sapnap tags along with George as he goes about doing his various errands. They’ve gone to the Nether to retrieve the list of items Karl gave them, mostly ingredients for potions and his “experiments.” George has spent most of the trip trying to pretend he isn’t sneaking glances at Sapnap, analyzing his every move while trying to remain casual.

They’ve successfully made their way into a fortress without injury, but instead of helping George collect nether wart, Sapnap keeps walking further in.

“Where are you going? Get over here and help me, we need practically all of this.”

“Karl said he needed more blaze rods, right? I can grab some while you do that,” Sapnap calls over his shoulder as he disappears around a corner.

George freezes at the words, then drops his bag in favor of running after Sapnap, pulling out his axe. “Wait, I’m coming too!”

George rounds the corner in time to hear Sapnap reply, “Relax, I got this. We’ll be done in half the time if we split up.” When George catches up to him, Sapnap gives him a sharp look. “I know what I’m doing, I can handle this myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” George pulls his shield from his back, readying his axe. 

“George. You don’t need to-”

Whatever Sapnap was about to say is cut off by the appearance of the first wave of blazes. Both of their focuses shift to fighting the floating creatures, hacking at them until they vanish with a final eruption of flames, leaving a golden rod behind to bring back with them. Things go smoothly, with only two blazes appearing and each of them focusing on one. But the second wave brings three blazes, and Sapnap immediately draws the attention of two of them leaving George to pick off one on his own. It’s a strategy they’ve used for years since, out of the two of them, Sapnap is the better fighter.

But things are different now. Sapnap is out of practice, and the weeks of nonsensical pain and bedrest have taken its toll. George can hardly focus on his own battle, too worried about watching Sapnap’s instead. 

He has a few close calls where he just manages to raise his shield in time to avoid a flying ball of flame to the face, but despite his sloppy performance he rids of his blaze quickly before turning to aid Sapnap. And thank Prime he does, because he’s just in time to catch one of the blazes aiming a fireball at Sapnap’s unprotected back.

“Sapnap!” George cries, lunging towards him and knocking him out of the way so George’s shield can take the hit instead. Sapnap was mid-swing, so George’s shove causes him to lose balance, yelping in surprise as he catches himself on the fence beside him.

“What the fuck, George!”

“Whoops!” George calls back as he lands the final hit to the blaze, watching it disappear in a burst of flames. Sapnap has re-oriented himself, and joins George in taking down the last blaze before turning a stern look on him.

“Why did you do that? I had that handled.”

George shrugs. “I took down my blaze and thought I’d help you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, ‘cause shoving me helped so much,” Sapnap snaps before visibly reeling himself in, inhaling deeply as he straightens then relaxes his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is, I was fine,” Sapnap continues in a much more leveled voice. “You didn’t need to worry about me. Everything was under control.”

“I know,” George lies, strapping his shield onto his back. “I guess I just got a little over excited. It’s been a while since we’ve fought together, y’know?” George nudges Sapnap lightly. “I miss our adventures sometimes.”

Sapnap gives him a half smile, but his eyes say he doesn’t believe George’s bullshit. He begins collecting the fallen blaze rods in silence. George leaves him to it, retrieving his bag and finishing his own task of gathering the nether wart.

They walk back in silence, but once they cross through the portal back into the Overworld, Sapnap takes George’s bag from him and tosses it over his shoulder with his own. George takes the attempt at normalcy for what it is, acting like he doesn’t see the thin layer of sweat creeping over Sapnap’s forehead.

Later that night, George gazes down at Sapnap’s unconscious form after he had passed out from the pain. It's not the first time Sapnap has blacked out. They had even tried sedating him once to see if that would help, if being unconscious really did allow him to escape the agony, but the pain was just as intense and the dreams that resulted from it, the horrors Sapnap’s mind conjured up to compliment the sensations, were not worth it.

Karl supports Sapnap’s head while George rearranges the pillows, then slowly lowers him back down until he's lying flat and comfortable without being jostled awake. Before settling down, George gets up to swap out the cloth on Sapnap’s forehead. It was the only thing George could think of to do when Sapnap started going through this, to provide a cool compress. It's what Dream used to do for him when he got headaches, or for Sapnap when he got sick. Sapnap said the feeling was soothing, and gave him something else to focus on, a sensation to center himself. So George kept doing it.

When George sits back down, he glances at Karl. His eye bags and the defeat etched into every line of his body is mirrored on George. He's been so focused on Sapnap, they both have, that he hasn't really checked on Karl much. He knows he hasn't been the most patient with him. Part of it is George's guilt and frustration with himself over his inability to help his best friend leaking into his every action and coloring his voice bitter. Or maybe it's just hard being by Sapnap’s side again and seeing his other one isn't occupied by Dream.

Usually once Sapnap falls asleep George isn't far behind, but he's wired tonight for some reason and decides it’s as good of a time as any to talk to Karl.

“It’s weird that this is our life now.”

At the sound of George’s voice, Karl’s head jerks up. “Yeah.” Karl clears his throat. “I never would’ve thought something like this would happen here. To us.”

George shrugs. “How could you have known? Who thinks that they’ll spend every day preparing for a threat they can’t even see?” George chuckles darkly. “It’s surreal. I think we’ve spent more time together these past few weeks than we have since we founded Kinoko.”

Karl laughs brokenly. “Yeah, we really have.” He glances down at Sapnap, running a thumb over the back of his hand in soothing motions. George would guess it’s more to comfort himself than it is to comfort a sleeping Sapnap. “Is it weird I’ve been enjoying spending time with him again? Not this, obviously,” he gestures to the bedroom that’s undergone various adjustments to fit their needs, “but when he joins me in the library or…even quiet moments like this, when I can just watch him exist. Watch both of you exist, unbothered, untroubled, painless…” he trails off, his voice dipping in volume. “I was missing him so much, but he was right here and I didn’t even realize.”

George doesn’t say it, but he understands Karl completely. They've all been growing apart, and the thing that brings them together is this? It’s fucked, but it’s the truth.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Karl whispers, a confession. “I- I’m just making this up as I go, I can’t find anything in my library about what’s happening to him, and I-” he clears his throat again. “I don’t think I can help him.”

"Karl,” George says softly, waiting until Karl meets his eyes. “You're doing a good job. You haven’t given up on him, and we both haven’t given up on you. You're doing the best you can. That's all anyone can do."

Karl gives him a weak smile, but it’s the first genuine one George has seen from him since that first night Sapnap had laid in bed, fighting to get away from invisible forces that wanted to hurt him.

Karl releases Sapnap’s hand and reaches over to take George’s. “It’s been really nice to see you again too, George. You have no idea.” George’s heart tightens at the emotion in Karl’s voice. “Thank you for all your help. With everything.”

George squeezes Karl’s hand, an imitation of what he watches Karl and Sapnap do, and hopes he can translate all that he’s feeling through the gesture. How grateful he is to not be bearing this burden alone, but to have Karl to share it with. That there are two sets of sunken eyes and sagging shoulders guarding Sapnap. Even though they’ve been absent from each other’s lives, when they were thrown back together they found that they were still a team, their friendship waiting for them right where they left it.

To say Sapnap was frustrated would be an understatement. It’s been almost a month of this stupid routine. Waiting for sunset, playing along with whatever Karl and George wanted to do to make him feel better, resting during the day when he can, repeat. It’s driving him up a wall. 

He’s of absolutely no help. He tried helping Karl with his research, but he didn’t know what Karl’s standard for useful information was, and asking him every other minute was only slowing him down. He does a better job simply keeping Karl company. He helps George sometimes, but running errands with him isn’t exactly fun, even if it does get Sapnap out of Kinoko. Besides, he gets the impression that George values the tasks he’s given and the alone time that comes with them, and Sapnap, as much as he wouldn’t trade George away for the world, needs his space from him sometimes. The way George looks at him doesn’t help his feeling of uselessness, and his overbearing babysitting makes it hard to hold onto any scrap of normalcy. He can’t blame George though. Sapnap would be the same, if not worse, if their roles were reversed. 

So he blows off steam in the dojo. His frustration, helplessness, annoyance, all of it is channeled into his training. Between being basically bedridden half the time and stress shrinking his normal appetite, Sapnap needs the workout. Karl and George don’t fully approve of it, Karl especially, his argument being that Sapnap should be resting, not overly exerting himself. George is just wary of Sapnap pushing himself too hard. But if he doesn’t do this, Sapnap might well lose his goddamn mind before the invisible pain even has a chance to take him out.

He starts with the same warm ups he’s used for as long as he can remember, letting his body wake up as his mind quiets. It’s easy to slip into this kind of routine, the movements so familiar he could do them in his sleep. In this element, it doesn’t matter if he has the answers or not, if he’s stuck or unable to help. Here, all that matters is doing the exercises correctly, and if he messes up he can work to fix it. Here, he is in complete control of his body.

After being fully warmed up, Sapnap picks up his sword, tossing it back and forth just to enjoy the feeling of the well worn grip in his hands. Then he’s throwing himself into his exercises, going through different movements while paying attention to his balance, footwork, precision, and form. It’s a lot to keep track of at once, but after years of sword work it’s second nature, like perfecting your technique as a musician. The sword is his instrument, and he’s training the muscle memory of his body to hone his sound to perfection.

It’s mindless. It should be mindless, something that he knows so thoroughly he doesn’t have to think about it in the midst of battle. But in the training room, it allows him to turn his brain off and feel more connected to his body and to the ground beneath his feet than he has since everything started.

As he comes to a stop, panting from the exertion and heat thrumming under his skin, his thoughts roar back to life without the focus on his movements to quell them. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the emptiness of this place, of his own labored breathing being the only sound he can hear, of the unoccupied spaces beside him-

He shoves the thoughts away, going to the rack against one of the walls to trade his netherite sword for a wooden one. He moves on to facing off with a dummy, practicing different swings and angles against his inanimate opponent.

He tries not to think about how much better practice he’d be getting with a proper sparring partner. How once, Sapnap always had people around him who were willing- eager, even- to train with him. How he used to hear the cheers of two people he loved so much he wanted to choose to bind himself to them, shouting encouragement for and against him as they watched him spar with one of his best friends.

His swings started to grow more forceful, each hit to the dummy being driven by the force of something he came here not to think about. Petty wars that had no real winners. Nations built and burnt to the grown and built again. Abandoned countries. New kingdoms. The people that were left behind.

The old friends he’ll probably never see again. Hit. His best friend locked in a prison. Hit. His other best friend spending days on end asleep in bed or missing. Hit. His fiances that both went missing in their own ways. Hit. The bare skin where his engagement rings should be. Hit. The sight of both the people he’s in love with spewing hate at each other, tearing his already crumbling world apart. Hit. This empty dojo where he was supposed to train Kinoko's nonexistent army, hit, and now their last and only line of defence is disadvantaged and weakened, hit, but thankfully only one man has shown any interest in harming Kinoko, hit, and Sapnap already vowed to kill him on sight, hit, but he still can't fix anything, hit, not his best friends, hit, not his fiances, hit, not his kingdom, hit, not even his own fucking body- 

He hits the dummy a little too hard, sending it flying into the far wall. The head breaks off on impact, rolling across the floor back towards Sapnap where it stops a few inches away from his feet. He stares down into its blank face, breathing heavily, sweat rolling down his back.

“Don't look at me like that,” he mutters, before retrieving his sword and leaving without a glance behind him. 

“You turned everyone against each other.”

Snip.

“You isolated and tormented a kid for your own enjoyment.”

Snip.

“You flattened an entire country by building a machine to bomb it until it was nothing."

Snip.

Quackity lists the things Dream has done, using his shears to split patches of his skin open for each one. He had already beaten Dream senseless using a mix of his axe and his own fists, and now Dream lies helpless on the ground, no strength left in him to shove Quackity away as he clips away at Dream’s skin.

“You wanted all the power for yourself and didn’t want anyone to make their own nations.”

Snip.

“You gave a madman stacks of explosives so he could blow up the country we just fought to save.”

Snip.

“You were gonna kill Tubbo over a couple of discs."

Snip.

“You did kill Tommy, in this very cell.”

Stab.

The thought of the last one infuriates Quackity so much he forgoes clipping at Dream’s arm and just drives the blades of the shears downwards, stabbing him. Dream shrieks, a fresh round of sobs pouring out of him. 

“Please,” Dream chokes out, fighting to speak through his own blood clogging his throat, “stop.”

“No, Dream, I don’t think I will stop.” Quackity grabs one of Dream’s wrists, bringing his hand up so he can see the back of it. His face grows, if possible, paler, as he realizes what Quackity has planned for him next. “You deserve to be punished for every horrible thing you’ve done. Right?” When Dream doesn’t answer, Quackity releases Dream’s hand and grips a fistful of his hair by the roots, lifting his head up a few inches before slamming it back against the ground. Dream lets out a low groan. "Right?"

“Y- yes sir,” Dream strains to say, his voice shaking.

“There you go,” Quackity says condescendingly, slamming Dream’s head one more time just because he can. Hey, he had a stressful day.

He takes up Dream’s hand again, positioning the shears above it. “You’re a control freak.”

“Yes sir.”

Quackity closes the blades over the back of Dream’s hand, blood blooming between them.

“You’re a manipulator.”

“Yes sir.”

Quackity moves to another patch of skin, pinching it with the shears to split it open.

“You’re a murderer.”

“Y-” Dream chokes again, devolving into a coughing fit. One of his coughs lands some of his blood on Quackity’s cheek. He just waits patiently for Dream to be done hacking, before dropping his hand to wipe the blood off and flick it onto Dream’s face, making him flinch. When Quackity picks Dream’s hand back up, clearly still waiting for him, Dream finishes his sentence. “Yes, sir.” 

Snip.

“You’re pathetic.” Quackity waits again, but Dream’s mouth stays shut. Quackity gives him a warning look. If Dream thinks he can stall his punishments by not speaking, he’s sorely mistaken.

“I said. You’re. Pathetic.” Quackity’s tone is calm, even. When Dream still won’t respond, Quackity uses his grip on Dream’s hand to bend his wrist backwards, making Dream gasp at the movement of his shredded skin. He keeps going until he hears Dream’s wrist pop, then adjusts his grip so his fingers can dig into the tears on the back of Dream’s hand.

“I said,” Quackity repeats, raising his voice and leaning in close so he can be heard over the sounds of pain Dream is making, "you're pathetic." Spit flies from the force of Quackity’s words, spattering across Dream’s face in shining, glistening droplets. It could almost be mistaken for his own sweat.

“Yes-” Dream gives a pained gasp, “sir.”

Quackity leans back, releasing the pressure on Dream’s hand only to turn it back over and add another cut to the steadily growing collection. He has to swipe some of the blood away to find a new spot, looking for thin white scars amidst the dark red mess. This was Quackity’s favorite spot on Dream to use the shears, meaning the backs of both of his hands are covered in them.

They keep going, Quackity calling Dream every name he can think of that fits his character, forcing Dream to agree with each one before he’s sliced open again. By the time Quackity is finished with him, his entire hand, wrist, and arm up to his elbow is painted red.

Quackity sits back, wiping the shears off on the leg of Dream’s pants. Using his shirt would just add to the mess instead of cleaning the blades. As soon as Dream has been released from Quackity’s grip, he goes limp, passing out instantly.

Quackity checks to make sure Dream is still breathing. His breaths are concerningly shallow, but he’s alive enough for Quackity’s standards. He rises to his feet, stretching his aching muscles. It’s the good kind of sore, like after a workout or completing a strenuous task that leaves you with a sense of pride. Beating on Dream has quickly become Quackity’s favorite, most efficient way to blow off steam. If something frustrates him during the day, or doesn’t go right, or he’s reminded too harshly of things he’d rather not think about, he stays calm, knowing he can take it all out on Dream come nightfall. He doesn’t have to lie there and just take it anymore. That’s Dream’s job now.

He pulls a splash potion of healing from his pocket, tossing it at Dream’s unconscious form. He’d started using those instead of the ones you have to swallow, tired of fighting Dream over drinking them. As he watches Dream’s wounds seal themselves, leaving barely perceptible scraps of white skin amongst the already drying blood, he laughs silently to himself over the pitiful picture Dream makes, collapsed on the ground, covered in his own blood. It’s quite the opposite of what Dream used to be. Someone with power, someone who made others bleed instead of himself, someone who easily terrified those who came across him, including Quackity.

He can't find it in himself to feel bad for Dream. He's never been able to. Dream has been not so subtly cruel, deceitful, and merciless towards those who got in his way since Quackity met him. He has no patience for those kinds of people now, never wants someone like that running around lose again. Quackity finally has a country that is safe, and he intends to keep it that way.

On his way out, Quackity lingers for a bit, having a few issues he needs to discuss with Sam. Some of the lights in the hotel have been acting up, and a few people got stuck in the elevator and had to be rescued. Quackity shows him some pictures he took of the wiring to see if Sam can spot what’s wrong, and Sam promises to come in during the day to fix it.

It’s very late when Quackity exits the portal that puts him back on the outside of the prison. Much later than it normally is when he leaves. He blames that for why he doesn’t notice the figure standing right on the edge of the entrance.

"Quackity?" 

He jumps at the sound of his name, reflexively shoving his hands in his pockets. They're still tinged red with Dream's blood. He looks up, meeting a familiar pair of white goggles.

"George? What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to speak with Sam about something. We're business partners," Quackity says easily. He stays under the shadow of the structure that acts as the prison’s entrance, hoping that that plus the darkness outside provides good enough coverage to keep George from noticing the state of his appearance. Can George smell the blood from where he’s standing?

George raises an eyebrow. "In the middle of the night?"

"It was an emergency, it couldn't wait."

George hums, but doesn’t comment beyond that.

Quackity gestures to the door with his head. “Were you....going in?”

“Oh no, no, just....passing by.”

Interesting. He makes a mental note to warn Sam.

“Well then,” Quackity smiles awkwardly, giving George a wide berth as he slowly walks out of the entryway, “I’d better go. Lots to do, running a country by myself and all.”

“Mm, yeah.” George is clearly done listening to him, so Quackity leaves him to his staredown with the prison or whatever the fuck he’s doing.

During the walk home, he has a lot of time to mull over the things that seeing George brings up. He wonders how the three of them are doing in their kingdom. Are they happier without him? He knows Karl certainly is, even going as far as to pretend he doesn’t know Quackity to keep him out of his life, and George had never once come to see him or try to find out what had become of his friend.

But Sapnap had. Sapnap had left a distressed, screaming Karl to chase after Quackity, to beg him to stay and figure things out. That was all Quackity wanted, was for his fiances to want him again, but he couldn’t stomach another second in that wretched kingdom, the one his lovers abandoned him for. He didn’t want to go back and hear Karl, sweet, beautiful, kind Karl, accuse him of murder and scream about how much he hates him in the same voice he used to use to tell Quackity he loved him endlessly, the same voice that promised to tie the two of them together forever one day.

Quackity tugs on the chain that always rests hidden beneath his clothes, pulling it free to fiddle with the set of gold bands that hang from it. None of his citizens know this, but he had originally built Las Nevadas with his fiances in mind. They were the reason he had included a wedding hall, wanting to surprise them with the perfect place for their special day. He wanted to give them a country that was beautiful and successful, that would never bore them, and most importantly, was safe. Somewhere he could protect not only himself, but the people close to him as well. They had seen so much pain and loss in their time here, and Quackity wanted to shield them from that, to give them the happily ever after they deserved. 

Hearing Karl say Quackity tried to kill him was a slap to the face. It was taking everything Quackity had done for him, everything that Karl had never seen because he abandoned Quackity instead, throwing it on the ground, and trampling it beneath his feet.

Quackity gripped his rings tightly, the warm metal digging into his palm.

It didn’t matter anymore. They had clearly moved on, and so did Quackity. He had done it. He had opened Las Nevadas, ahead of schedule even. He had a group of hardworking, loyal citizens, and more tourists pouring in every day to fill their collective pockets. Quackity was successful. Quackity was powerful. Quackity had everything he needed, everything that had ever been forcibly taken from him, and he had achieved it all himself.

That night, he crawls into a cold bed and tries not to think about how it used to feel to fall asleep with the warmth of two bodies beside him.

Karl wasn't getting answers. He's read up on every disease, illness, curse, condition, you name it, and none of them fit what was happening to Sapnap. 

His experiments aren’t working. Nothing has come close to easing the pain for him. He’s tried giving Sapnap healing and regen potions ahead of the pain, during the pain, and right when it starts. He’s tried potions with various effects, hoping they would be strong enough to distract from or override Sapnap’s pain receptors, even resorting to brewing his own batch of suspicious stew (Sapnap was sick for days after that one). He’s tried keeping him warm to imitate daylight, tried bringing him to the Nether where there is no day or night, he’s even tried nerve numbing, which some strange guy in a blue jumpsuit who he found nonchalantly passing through Kinoko agreed to be the practice subject for. He’s tried everything he could think of, with no success.

He’s back to his original theory of soulmates. He’s afraid he's wasting all this time being hung up on the subject, but he literally has nowhere else to turn. He can’t keep making shit up, rolling the dice and hoping he scores big. He feels like he's combed over every inch of this library. Twice. Plus, George’s insistence against the idea only proves Karl’s point more, that Sapnap’s soulbond could have solidified recently and that’s why none of them know about it. But until he has proof, or anything of substance that can actually help them, Karl decides to keep this to himself for the time being.

He switches tactics, starting to look for ways to examine one’s soul. He knows it must be possible from all the studies he’s read with detailed analyses and descriptions of soulbonds. Some of them couldn’t have been conducted without there being a way to check, a way to see . Karl is determined to find what that is. He’ll practice on himself first, not knowing enough about the consequences when souls are involved to be willing to risk Sapnap.

Like most days, Sapnap is chilling in the library with Karl, adding that extra comfort of human contact to keep him grounded and from getting too lost in his work. He’s currently browsing the shelves, having instructions from Karl to find a new story for them to start reading together at night. They’re about to be finished with their current one.

“What about this one?” Sapnap asks, walking over to Karl’s desk holding out a book entitled The Masquerade. 

Karl considers it for a moment, before replying, “Hm, that one's sad. Pick another one."

Sapnap pretends to pout, going to return the book to its original place while Karl giggles quietly. What Sapnap doesn't know is that that is an abridged, edited version of another book Karl has in a secret library hidden downstairs. The masquerade detailed inside really did take place, and Karl had traveled back in time to witness it. That was one of the times Karl had run into a Sapnap look alike, someone from another time that looked and sounded like his Sapnap and was drawn to Karl the same way Karl was drawn to him, but ultimately wasn’t the Sapnap he knew. It's one of the reasons Karl had suspected (hoped) they could be soulmates in the first place, with how often he meets Sapnap throughout time.

The problem with The Masquerade was the Sapnap there had died, and Karl really didn’t want to read that one aloud right now.

Karl does find time to sneak downstairs to look at the original though, perusing those books for help as well, even though he's studied them enough times to have memorized every word. He can’t afford to miss anything that might help Sapnap.

Sapnap…is really important to him. He and George are Karl’s best friends, the people he’s closest with, but Sapnap is special. Just being around him makes Karl feel lighter. One smile or glancing touch from him and Karl’s body will warm all over, like Sapnap was a hearth and Karl the fire he was holding. He had been hesitant to give Sapnap affection even as it was shown to him, the ever present pair of golden rings on his finger seeming to glare directly into Karl's eyes every time he saw him. Karl had also caught Sapnap looking at them sadly, something akin to grief on his face as he slowly rotated the bands back and forth. He wondered if Sapnap had lost someone special to him. Perhaps he’d become a widower. Not wanting to make him sad, Karl never asked about it. One day, he noticed Sapnap had stopped wearing them. Karl couldn’t say why. Maybe he had moved on. Maybe he had lost them. Either way, Karl was happy to make Sapnap happy while he was here, and to return any of the affection he was gifted.

Sapnap deserves to be happy.

And Karl will do everything in his power to make sure he is.

He smells the food before he sees it, cooked meat and melted butter drifting through the open library door. Sure enough, George comes breezing in, carrying two steaming plates.

“Hey Karl, I brought you and the hooligan some lunch.”

Sapnap’s head pops out from behind the shelves at his voice. “Do I smell steak?”

“Yeah,” George confirms as he sets a plate down on a clear spot on Karl’s desk, handing the other one to Sapnap when he wanders over. “Steak and potatoes.”

“Thank you George,” Karl says, watching as Sapnap takes a seat at a small table, George leaning on the edge of it opposite him.

“Woah, what made you go all out?” Sapnap asks, already digging into his food.

“It’s already mid-afternoon and I figured you two idiots had skipped breakfast and lunch, so I made you something filling.”

Sapnap’s eyes snap up. “Mid-afternoon? Shit, I wanted to take a nap.”

“You’ve still got time, there’s no rush,” George points out, but it’s too late. Sapnap is already shoveling down the rest of his meal before standing up, signaling he’s ready to go.

Sapnap gives Karl an easy smile. “Enjoy your meal Karl, see you soon.” He stops to ruffle Karl’s hair fondly before leaving, George following him out with a wave.

Karl is just starting to wonder if he has time to sneak downstairs when the desk beneath him disappears. He suddenly finds himself standing, looking out over a body of water. He stumbles a few steps, slight vertigo setting in as his body and mind catches up to the fact he’s just been teleported. Through time. His first coherent thought is that he’s lucky it didn’t happen while Sapnap and George were still there.

He’s been afraid of this. He has no control over when he’s pulled away somewhere, or when in time he ends up, and he’s been pleading with mysterious forces that have yet to show themselves to him that it wouldn’t be while Sapnap needs him.

This time he’s ended up in the future, exploring an underwater city with a crew of fishermen. They were led around by the last remaining citizen there who, unfortunately, turned out to be a tad bit bloodthirsty, and killed their entire group. He doesn’t recognize Sapnap amongst them, though. He’s grateful, knowing he couldn't handle being faced with a Sapnap variation he can't save, especially not now. On the other hand, it would also tear him apart to come across a Sapnap from a different time that he's able to help while he's powerless to aid his Sapnap. He doesn't know which scenario would be worse.

Just as Karl’s vision goes dark, he’s abruptly transported once again, only this time to a specific realm, one he’s been to many times. The Inbetween.

It’s a realm Karl is brought to after every one of his trips through time. As far as he can tell, the giant castle made entirely of gleaming white stone and marble is the only thing here, floating on an island in the middle of nowhere. There are patches of grass within and surrounding the building, with pristine birch trees standing rigidly throughout, but besides that there are no other signs of life.

Blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness, Karl tries to get his bearings. He always seems to end up in a different part of the castle every time he’s here. The entire place is blinding white, which is unhelped by the sun’s glow being permanently present in this place. It’s always the final edge of sunrise here, soft pinks and oranges tingeing the edges of the bright blue of daytime. 

He’s been dropped into one of the many blank, white hallways that seem to go on forever when Karl tries to explore them, turning corner after corner and climbing staircase after staircase only to never reach the end.

Remembering his explorations of this place gives Karl an idea. Maybe he can use this trip to his advantage. He’s seen bookshelves here before, tucked away in a room he didn’t dare enter in the past. A castle this huge is bound to have a library, and where better to look for a way to achieve the near impossible task of seeing someone’s soul than in a magical dimension?

“Hello!” Karl shouts, his voice echoing off the sleek marble walls. “Can you direct me to the library, please? I need to help my friend!” He knows there’s someone- or something- here. It’s talked to him sometimes, through books purposefully left in his way or messages relayed to him in his mind. It’s always freaky when that happens, because it’s delivered in his own inner voice, though he knows it’s not coming from himself. 

He gets no response. No book, no telepathic message, only silence. 

He starts walking, hoping to come across some rooms or branching off corridors, and he's not disappointed. He finds a bedroom, plain except for a neatly made, unused bed with gray sheets, and some sparse white furniture. It's not what he's looking for, but he decides to go through to the opposite entrance, hoping it will spit him out somewhere other than this same hallway. 

As he's passing through, he notices a book on the floor. Picking it up, he opens it to find a singular sentence. 

Don't stray from the path.

He quickly drops the book, letting it fall from his hands and hitting the floor with a soft thud. He hurries out of the room, ignoring the new book that is waiting for him at the exit. They’ve been through this before. Karl tries to go elsewhere in the castle or on the grounds, and the Inbetween warns him to stay on the path outlined for him. 

He keeps going, ignoring book after book, eventually getting a whole row of them along the wall that Karl breezes by. He’s in a new part of the castle he’s never seen before, spiral staircases and huge, grand rooms that are similar to ones he’s been in before, but furnished differently. Progress. He’s getting somewhere.

But the Inbetween has other plans, the sky flickering right before the hall Karl is in goes dark, a harsh version of his inner voice filling his head. 

Don't stray from the path.

The light comes back, and Karl rushes forward to…do what? He stops, shaking his head vigorously. Right. He needs to find the library.

He’s only resumed his search for a few moments when the sky flickers again, the light in the castle flickering with it. The voice returns, only louder this time and accompanied by the screeching sound of metal scraping against glass, filling Karl’s mind and making him flinch, clutching the sides of his head.

Don't stray from the path.

Karl gasps as the sound leaves him, relieved to have the silence back. He looks around, regaining his bearings. He’s in the Inbetween still. Still? Did he just come from a trip in time? Where did he go? He can’t remember what he was doing before this.

He glances behind him, seeing a clearly outlined path. Maybe he’s supposed to go there. That’s what the awful voice said, right? But then why is he facing away from it? And why did the voice hurt him?

He turns his back on the path again, taking a faltering step forward, but he’s met with resistance. It feels like he’s trying to walk through molasses, his mind instructing him to move but his legs unable to obey, moving at a snail's pace no matter how urgently Karl tells them to speed up. He needs to go. He doesn’t know where, he just knows it’s important, and he needs to get there fast.

Then the voice is back, the intruder using Karl’s inner voice to disguise its own, rapidly repeating itself as the lights start strobing all around him, the screeching filling his ears.

Don'tstrayfromthepath don'tstrayfromthepath don'tstrayfromthepath don't-

Karl screams, clapping his hands over his ears as if that will do anything to drown out the horrible noise. Tears bead in the corner of his eyes from the pain. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he doesn’t know what to do about it, doesn’t know how to make it stop or go away, just like how he doesn’t know how to make Sapnap’s pain go away-

The thought pierces through the fog of confusion, a lighthouse in the storm. Gathering his remaining strength, Karl pushes past the discomfort in his mind and shouts as loud as he can. “I need to find the library! Please! I just want to help my friend!” The noise doesn’t let up, the sound of roaring wind joining the chaos instead. 

“Please!” he calls out, making one last attempt. “Help me help my friend! If there’s anyone out there- if you can hear me- please, he’s in trouble! I have to save him!”

Karl winces, squeezing his eyes shut against the continued onslaught of pain. He can’t do this, can’t use anything in his arsenal to help Sapnap. He can’t save his best friend, he can’t save the people he meets in his travels, he can’t save anyone. He can’t even save himself from this place he still has no understanding of.

He doesn’t realize he’s been whispering “please” over and over until the noise quiets down, the screeching turning to a low hum and the wind reduced to a far off breeze, whistling sweetly in the distance. Karl cautiously opens one eye, the other flying open when he sees what’s in front of him.

Everything around him is calm, the lights back to normal. And there, standing facing him, is…himself. Same fluffy brown curls, same light brown eyes, dressed in the same white and gray that his normally colorful hoodie is always reduced to when he’s brought here.

The Karl in front of him doesn’t speak, nor change his expression from blankly neutral. He simply offers a hand, and Karl sees no other choice but to take it. 

The moment their palms meet, Karl is back in his own library, surrounded by the tales of his travels through time. There’s no more noise in his head, no more searing white making him squint. He looks down, and color has been restored to his clothes.

He’s returned home. Empty handed.

He sinks to the floor, head in his hands. A wasted trip. He doesn’t know when he'll get another chance, or if he even wants another chance. These trips are traumatic for him. This one ended with everyone dying, including himself, and he was only saved because the Inbetween always pulls him when he's done or if he's been severely hurt. At least he didn’t have to watch Sapnap die.

Karl pushes himself to his feet. He doesn’t have time to sit and cry about it, he needs to figure out how long he was gone for. Sometimes he’s taken away for days, sometimes for a few minutes. There’s no way to tell until he gets back. He hurries upstairs, sighing in relief when he finds everything untouched. His food has long gone cold, but no one has removed it and thus come looking for him. It’s safe to assume it’s still the same day.

He collapses into his desk chair. He knows he has to go back downstairs and record every detail he can remember about the underwater city, and update his own personal journals where he’s been keeping track of his own thoughts and everything he learns about the Inbetween. But he just…needs a moment to himself first.

He doesn’t know what any of the things he just experienced means. He doesn’t know if he ever will. He knows he’s no closer to helping Sapnap than he was when he left, and he knows he can’t keep doing this forever, stumbling around in the dark hoping he’ll bump into a solution. 

And yet, in the face of all his failures, he tries not to lose hope. Karl may not be Sapnap’s soulmate, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still try to be worthy of that role, should he have been lucky enough to have it.

The first time it happened, Sapnap thought he was dying.

It started off as an odd twinge in his gut that made him pause mid step on the open streets of Kinoko, having spent a late night pacing around the yin and yang pond. He was mulling over the events of the previous night, turning it over and over in his head in an attempt to figure out what had gone wrong. He’d finally seen Quackity again after months of no contact, had convinced him to come check out Kinoko and see Karl, and it had somehow ended with Karl and Quackity yelling hateful things at one another. Quackity wound up walking away, leaving Sapnap to stare after his retreating form alone and at a loss over what he just witnessed. He had watched his two fiances- if they even still counted as that- rip each other apart, and he had no idea what to do about it. He’d even finally taken off his stupid rings, feeling unfit to wear them and no longer able to catch sight of them without feeling his stomach turn.

Then he was overtaken by weird sensations all over his body, a quick to dull ache like that of receiving a bruise. He shreds his armor, pulling up his sleeves, his pant legs, the hem of his shirt, looking everywhere and finding nothing. His immediate thought was that it could be his soulmates, before remembering he no longer had any.

Trying not to panic, he attempts to make it back to his house, feeling much too exposed out alone in the middle of the night, even in his own kingdom. But he doesn’t make it far before he stumbles to a stop, clutching at his chest and breathing harshly through the discomfort there. Then his legs fall out from under him, sending him to the ground with a shout as pain lances through them. In between aching gasps, he calls out for help in his empty kingdom, afraid of what was happening to him and thinking that this could be it. His body has decided to turn on him, maybe from stress, or pushing himself too much, or for some unrelated ailment he has no knowledge of. Maybe this is how he dies, alone in the middle of the night. The last thing he hears before he blacks out is the distant call of his name, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s real or only in his head.

When he woke next, he was surprised to find himself in his own bed, and even more surprised to see the concerned faces of Karl and George leaning over him. They explained how Karl heard him shouting, and came running to help only to find him passed out on the ground. He had roused George, and together they managed to get Sapnap home and tucked into bed, but he was still making pained noises in his sleep for a bit. Sapnap was relieved to learn he hadn’t in fact died and woken up somewhere else where absent minded librarians and reclusive best friends suddenly reappear by your bedside, but he never got rid of that looming sense of dread, that this was only the beginning of something far worse to come.

Now, Sapnap is back to his original theory. That whatever this is, it is meant to kill him. He's come close a few times already. And they still don't know what's wrong with him.

It's been steadily worsening, and George and Karl know it too, even if they won’t admit it out loud. They've become increasingly desperate. Karl barely leaves his library, spending even more time there than before Sapnap…fell ill. George does all of his chores in half the time, and spends a good chunk of his newly acquired free time in the library helping Karl. He's even set up a bed in there for Sapnap to nap in so George can still keep an eye on him while he works. Sapnap lets himself be directed around, going wherever George tells him or resting when Karl instructs him to. He's got no fight left in him, no will to keep trying. There's no point. For he is surely going to die. 

Leaning on the door frame, Sapnap watches Karl for a moment, taking his time admiring his features from where he’s sitting at his desk, a book open in front of him. Wild curls, pinched eyebrows frowning over soft, focused brown eyes, the slight flush on his nose from rubbing over it absentmindedly while he thinks, his bottom lip folded inward where it’s caught underneath his teeth. Sapnap thinks that, if he were a painter, he would silently capture Karl’s form on canvas to preserve it for those who didn’t have the privilege of seeing it firsthand. Even when he’s low on sleep, wound tight with stress, and worry etched over every part of his body, he’s still achingly beautiful. Sapnap’s heart breaks a little more just looking at him, and the eye bags he knows he had a part in darkening.

He knocks lightly on the propped open door of the library. Karl’s head jolts up, a soft smile that doesn’t quite fill his face appearing when he lays eyes on Sapnap.

“You got a minute?”

“Sure.” Karl carefully marks his place before closing his book. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you would join me for lunch.” Faint surprise flits over Karl’s face as he turns to glance outside, no doubt just realizing the time. Karl often gets so absorbed in what he’s doing, he doesn’t realize time is passing around him and he forgets to do things such as eat unless Sapnap or George remind him.

Karl sighs. “Sapnap, you know I usually work while I eat. You’re welcome to hang out in here as usual, but-”

“I know, I know, but I just want to steal you for 30 minutes tops!”

Karl gives him a look that says he’s going to protest.

“Ok, 20 minutes. C’mon, I prepared something good! 20 minutes is all I’m asking for. Please?” Sapnap makes wide, pleading eyes at Karl.

Karl cracks, unable to help giggling at Sapnap’s expression and shameless begging. “Alright, fine.”

“Yes!” Sapnap makes a show of jumping excitedly before grabbing Karl’s hand as soon as he’s stood up, dragging him outside towards the cherry tree that sits right by his library. Karl gasps at the sight of what Sapnap has set up for them. A blanket has been laid out underneath the tree, facing the pond. In the center sits a picnic basket, open and ready for use.

“Do you like it?” Sapnap asks, suddenly nervous when Karl just stands there, dumbfounded. But his worries are quickly washed away with the affectionate look Karl gives him before moving to wrap his arms around Sapnap in a grateful hug.

“I love it.”

“Good,” Sapnap says, tightening his hold on Karl before he breaks the embrace, sitting down to start unpacking the basket. Cookies, apples, and sandwiches, one of which is already cut into little triangles that he places in front of Karl when he sits. Sapnap pulls out a small knife and begins cutting the apples into slices, smiling and nodding along as Karl slowly grows more and more chatty. He comments on everything, from the way the sun looks filtered through the pink leaves of the tree to the food he’s eating to the book he was reading when Sapnap got him. Sapnap occasionally interjects, but he mostly stays quiet, really just wanting to bask in the sound of Karl’s voice.

“This is really nice, Sapnap. Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course.” Sapnap smiles softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can I ask why you decided to do this?” Karl gestures at the scene around them. “Or was it a fun spur-of-the-moment thing?”

“I just…wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me these past months.” 

Karl tilts his head, his unruly curls falling slightly into his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know, I know. Still, I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you and all you’re doing for me. You’ve done so much work to try and help me, and I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for that.” He reaches forward, taking Karl’s hand and holding it between his own. “Ever since I met you, you've been wonderful. I don’t say it enough. You- my life is better simply because you’re in it.”

Karl turns his hand over, slipping his fingers in between Sapnap’s like he has hundreds of times before. He locks eyes with Sapnap, his eyes shining wetly but still fiercely determined. “You know I won't stop until I've helped you. I’m going to figure this out, I promise.”

Sapnap forces a smile, hoping it looks believable enough. “I know, Karl. I know.”

After twenty minutes exactly, he returns Karl to his desk. In a moment of bravery, he plants a quick kiss on Karl’s cheek, and is rewarded by seeing his face go completely red and smile bright enough to blind the sun. As Sapnap cleans up the remnants of their picnic, he tries not to overthink what comes next. Sapnap, guiltily, had used Karl as a warm-up of sorts, to ease him into these goodbyes. This next one was going to be so much harder.

He finds George in the house he and Karl share but are rarely ever in these days. He’s sitting on the balcony with his feet dangling loosely over the edge, facing away from Kinoko and gazing out at the hills and trees that stretch towards the horizon.

“George!” he calls up to him. George glances down, peering at him through his goggles. “Got some time to kill?” he asks, holding up a pair of fishing rods.

George makes an incredulous face. “You want to go fishing?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Try and get some name tags. Like old times.” 

George thinks it over for a moment, then moves to stand up. “Alright, sure.”

Sapnap grins.

He takes George to a river they used to frequent back when they were both living with Sam. He thought about bringing him to the community house, but there's too much history there, both bittersweet and painful. He wants this to be something for just him and George, not the two of them and an audience of ghosts. He doesn't want to fish in Kinoko, either. That's too full of pain now as well. Besides, Kinoko isn't theirs. At least, not in the way Sapnap wants it to be for a moment like this.

They sit side by side, feet dangling over the raised bit of river bank they’ve parked themselves on. The water is mostly still except for where their bobbers bounce happily along the surface, waiting to be caught on something. The sun is warm, but not overbearingly so. By all accounts, it's a perfect day.

“So. Fishing, huh?” George comments without taking his eyes off the water, his goggles now resting on top of his head. “Why the sudden desire to fish for name tags?”

“I dunno. Hey, remember when you broke the door to your room, and Sam wasn’t home so you were trapped?”

George snorts. “Yeah, and you wouldn’t help me.”

“I didn’t want to touch the wrong thing!” Sapnap protests. “I don’t understand redstone.”

“Yeah, I totally believe that.” Sapnap doesn’t have to look to know George is rolling his eyes. He can hear it in his voice.

“It’s true!”

“You just wanted to keep me trapped.”

“…it was kind of funny.”

“I knew it!” Sapnap starts cackling, owning up to the admission as George continues ranting. “Laugh all you want, but who was the one who saved you from that creeper when you decided running into a pitch black cave for no reason was a good idea? I’m clearly the better friend, and I deserve to be treated as such.”

Sapnap remembers that day. He had run into the cave on impulse, confident he could find iron for them inside. He hadn’t realized that a creeper was already lurking in the shadows, and having spotted him, had started to follow. “You did not save me from that creeper! You got a couple hits with your bow, but it would’ve blown up if I didn’t kill it from behind.”

“But you wouldn’t have known it was there if I didn’t warn you. And I definitely weakened it for you.”

Sapnap leans back, letting nonchalant confidence leak into his tone. “We don’t have to pretend. You can just admit I’m the better fighter, George.”

“Are not!” George whacks the back of his hand against Sapnap’s arm. “I’ve sniped your ass so many times.”

“Uh, who was the first to disarm who? The first ever?"

“Just because you’re sometimes better at sword combat than me doesn’t make you the best. I could beat you in archery with my eyes closed.”

“Excuse you, but I’m a great archer. My accuracy is flawless.”

“Since when? I’ve seen enough missed shots from you to convince anyone you can’t be trusted with a bow.”

“And what about the times I have landed my shots?”

Sapnap waggles his eyebrows. George shoves him.

Sapnap laughs, a full, head-throw-back-shoulders-shaking genuine laugh. George has always had a knack for pulling the joy out of him, seeking it out where it hides in dark corners and leading it center stage to shine.

“I still remember that first time we sparred,” Sapnap says, voice going soft at the memory. “My stance was all over the place, and your movements were so jerky. You couldn’t have stabbed someone if you wanted to. The second you tried to lunge in any direction your whole body would follow and you’d just topple over! We were afraid to give you a real sword.”

George stiffens, and Sapnap’s words smack him in the face. He hurries to continue. 

“You and I were both definitely nervous, but not about fighting each other. We couldn’t be nervous about that because we knew we’d never hurt one another. That’s why we didn’t hold back, either. We threw everything we had at each other. Which wasn’t much at that point, but still. And when I managed to actually disarm you…I was so proud of myself. It’s still to this day one of my proudest moments. I felt like I was glowing or some shit. And when I looked down at you on the ground, I thought you might look frustrated or disappointed, but you looked just as proud as I was. You- you’ve always wanted me to succeed. Always supported me and my dreams no matter what.” He turns to look at George, only to see he’s already looking at Sapnap, a few tears having made their way down his cheeks. Sapnap swallows. “You’re my best friend, George. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

“You’re my best friend too, idiot,” George says, acting like his voice isn’t trembling slightly.

“I know.” Sapnap grins, returning his gaze to the water so George can wipe his face. “I’ve always known that. You can’t get rid of me Gogy, no matter how hard you try.”

“I never want to be rid of you, Sapnap. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Sapnap opens his mouth to respond when he feels a tug on his line. “Oh, I caught something.” 

“Let me see, let me see,” George demands. He cranks the handle of his fishing rod, watching the line pull tighter and tighter as he reels it in. But as the bobber reappears, he isn’t surprised to see he’s only caught a fish. He didn’t expect to snag a name tag on the first try. Unhooking the fish, he tosses it into the bucket of water between him and George. At least they have tonight’s dinner.

They fish for over an hour, chatting idly about everything and nothing. By the end, they’ve each got at least one name tag. Sapnap tries to get George to take his, but he refuses. “Keep them. Use them for something in the future.”

They walk back to Kinoko in comfortable silence, the bucket of fish swinging between them. When George goes to take it, Sapnap protests.

“I got this. You’re always taking care of me, and you’ve…really looked out for me recently. So thank you. For that.”

George frowns slightly. “Don’t fucking thank me, what do you think this is? We’re best friends. We stick together, no matter what. We don’t leave one another’s side. Not again, not ever.”

“Okay, George,” Sapnap says playfully, drawing out the two words dramatically just to make George shake his head disapprovingly, failing to hide a small smile.

“How about this; you prep the fish for me, and I’ll cook them later.”

Sapnap nods. “Deal.”

“See you at dinner, then.” And with that, George sends him off to go back home and start preparing the fish. As he works, Sapnap goes through his mental checklist. He got to tell Karl how grateful he’s been for the time they got together. He got to tell George what he means to him. He’s been able to thank them and wish them well in his own way, making sure they each had one final happy, painless memory with him before the end. He has no idea how much time he has left, but his gut tells him it isn’t long, and he doesn’t want to wait before the opportunity leaves. Today was a success. But there’s still one more person Sapnap had been holding out hope to see.

Unlike the rest of today, he doesn’t really have a plan as he dons his armor and leaves Kinoko. He still remembers where to find the nicely paved road that led him to Las Nevadas the first time. He remembers everything about that night. Following it, he comes to the same large stone tunnel, only this time there’s a locked gate blocking him from reaching the other end, complete with a check-in booth being managed by a familiar fox hybrid.

“Fundy?”

“Hey, Sapnap.” Fundy’s ears twitch nervously, but his tone stays even and professional. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Sapnap brushes past the awkwardness as best as he can. “Do you work here?”

“Yup. This is my home now. Has been for a while.”

“Cool. Uh, can I go in? I’m in a bit of a hurry, sorry.” Sapnap smiles apologetically. They’re approaching mid-afternoon already. He doesn’t have much time.

“Yeah, of course man. Just gotta pay first.”

Sapnap gives him a confused look. “I…have to pay?”

“Uh, yeah, this is a toll gate.” Fundy laughs awkwardly.

“But I didn’t bring any money, I didn’t know-”

“Well then, I’m sorry Sapnap, but you can’t go in.”

Sapnap bristles. “Fundy, I need to get in there. Can’t you make an exception this once?”

Fundy frowns, crossing his arms. “Nope. The rules apply to everybody.”

“But- this is an emergency!”

Fundy levels him with a glare that clearly says he doesn’t believe Sapnap.

“Look,” Sapnap tries to plead, “just let me through now, and I can pay later! Or even charge me twice next time I come. I just really need to get through, like, now. It has to be today.”

But Fundy isn’t budging. “Nope. You either pay, or I don’t let you through.”

Sapnap narrows his eyes. “Ok fine, then I won’t leave.” And he plops down on the ground.

“What? You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can.” Sapnap leans back on his hands, making a show of relaxing. “I’ll stay here all night if I have to.” Obviously he can’t do that, but Fundy doesn’t know that.

“I- you- what the hell, man!” Fundy throws his hands up in frustration. “Fine. You know what? I’m calling my boss to see exactly how he wants me to deal with you.” He disappears into the back of the booth, leaving Sapnap alone. He isn’t waiting for more than five minutes though before the gates in front of him are opening, and he’s quickly scrambling to his feet.

There stands Quackity, his eyes sparkling as they land on Sapnap. He’s dressed in formal attire, including a white button down that hugs his frame just right, a crimson tie, and suspenders. His dark hair is tucked neatly into his ever present beanie, and the scar over his left eye scrunches up adorably when he smiles.

Like it usually does when Sapnap lays eyes on him, his breath catches.

“Sapnap! What a wonderful surprise!”

Sapnap blinks harshly at the sound of his name. In Quackity’s voice. It’s only been a few months since their last interaction, but it still sends a shock through his system. “Y- yeah, hi. Sorry about just dropping in, I-”

“Oh no, no worries at all,” Quackity assures him, still grinning. “I told you, you’re welcome here anytime. Hey Fundy,” Quackity calls, getting Fundy to poke his head out again, “put Sapnap down as always allowed in, free of charge.”

Fundy’s jaw drops. "What? But- he- why?” he splutters.

“Just put him down, he’s a VIP of mine. C’mon Sapnap, this way.” Quackity waves him over, turning to head through the tunnel. Sapnap quickly follows, leaving behind an angrily muttering Fundy.

“Man, I’m so glad you’re here,” Quackity says earnestly, still smiling as the two of them climb a set of stone steps that bring them back into the daylight. Sapnap shields his eyes instinctively. Between the sun's rays beating down directly onto them and the miles of bright desert sand, it’s a jarring adjustment after the drab tunnel. To their immediate right is an empty looking gas station Sapnap doesn’t recognize, and just ahead of them is a familiar giant white sign bordered in lights, the words “Las Nevadas” written across it in large red lettering.

“No offense, but you look like shit.”

Quackity’s voice snaps Sapnap’s attention back to see him looking Sapnap over critically. Sapnap laughs. “Yeah, I know.”

A slight frown flickers across Quackity’s face, but before Sapnap can question it it's gone, leaving him wondering if it was ever there in the first place.

“You haven’t been here since we opened, right? Shall I give you an updated tour?” Before Sapnap can answer, Quackity is already heading towards the city, a slight spring in his step that Sapnap struggles to keep up with while trying not to lose him amongst the various other passerbyers, none of whom he recognizes. Quackity leads him down the road, stopping in front of the huge fountain that acts as a centerpiece to the whole place. Turning around to face him, Quackity spread his arms wide, a proud smile gracing his face. “Welcome, Sapnap, to the city of Las Nevadas.”

And what a city it was. The outward appearance was the same, the buildings that looked like art pieces seemingly unchanged, but the insides had been upgraded to fully furnished and functioning. Quackity was most excited to drag him into the casino, which was now buzzing with life and every type of game, advert, and bright color you could think of. The wide variety of restaurants were open, smells of all different kinds of food wafting into the air tantalizingly. Even the giant hotel was chalk full of visitors coming and going, people checking in or coming down from their rooms for the first time that day. The city had come alive since the last time Sapnap was here, music spilling into the streets and people bustling this way and that, gawking at the attractions or excitedly chattering about what they wanted to do next. It was quite the opposite of Kinoko’s empty, deserted cobblestone pathways. Can a kingdom be deserted if it was never full?

They eventually end up where they started, Quackity folding his arms and leaning against the edge of the fountain. They’re on the opposite side this time, tall pillars of cascading water at their backs instead of short, lightly bubbling posts. The sound of rushing water blocks out the general noise of the city, almost giving the illusion of privacy, that it’s just the two of them.

Quackity glances around at his city, smiling fondly. “You gotta come here at night sometime. Everything looks so beautiful lit up.” Sapnap flinches. He tries to recover quickly, but Quackity is already frowning.

“What is up with you? You were quiet the whole tour. You ok?”

Sapnap tries to come up with something to say, but he’s never been able to lie to Quackity.

“I’ve…been better. Things haven’t been great recently.” Things haven’t been “great” for a long time, but Sapnap isn’t about to go into that mess.

“What do you mean?” When Sapnap drops his gaze, Quackity’s voice sharpens. “Sapnap, what’s going on?”

Quackity waits quietly while Sapnap gathers his thoughts, but the incessant tapping of his fingers against his arm shows he is holding himself back from grilling Sapnap for answers.

“This is going to sound crazy, but there’s been- for months now, I-” Sapnap breaks off, taking a deep breath. “I get, like, random bursts of pain?” he blurts out. “Sometimes it’s small pinches or stings, and other times it feels like my arm’s being cut off or I’m getting stabbed or something. It’s crazy, I know.”

“But-” Quackity glances over Sapnap again, “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, it’s just…you don’t have any bruises. Or injuries. Unless you’re hiding them?”

Sapnap shakes his head quickly. “Nope, no injuries. That’s what doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing actually happening to me, it just feels like there is. Or my body thinks it is. Or my mind does. I have no idea, honestly.” He pauses, debating explaining further, but fuck it, he’s already told him this much. “Also, the timing is weird? It doesn’t happen just randomly throughout the day, it’s always at the same time, without fail. I could almost prepare for it.” Sapnap laughs, but it rings empty.

“When does it happen?” 

“Every night. Just after sunset.”

Quackity abruptly straightens, hands clutching tightly to his arms. Sapnap freezes, staring at Quackity’s eyes that had only moments ago been soft with concern and curiosity suddenly glaze over with panic, something dark brewing within them. 

“Quackity?” Sapnap’s voice comes out scared, hesitant. Quackity just looks at him for a moment, then he turns on his heel, briskly striding away without a word.

“Quackity!” Sapnap calls to his back, hurrying to chase after him, but Quackity’s stride turns into a jog and then a full on sprint, and Sapnap quickly loses him in the crowd. He stops calling for him, slowing to a halt and catching his breath as he watches groups of strangers continue to move around him like nothing has happened, like Quackity hasn’t once again left him standing alone, completely lost.

As soon as he and Sapnap part ways George takes off, hurrying towards a forest he knew as intimately as his own name. Sapnap had been saying goodbye. George could hear it in his voice, in the memories he recounted like pulling out an old photo album to look through one last time. He brought up sparring, something they never do anymore. He knew it was Sapnap’s way of saying goodbye to not only George, but Dream as well. His last chance to tell George about a moment between the two of them that was important to him, with Dream’s silent but warm presence supporting them. George wasn’t having it. Sapnap isn’t going anywhere, not if George has anything to say about it.

He reaches a familiar clearing, one that hides from everyone else on the server but him. The trees bordering the enclosure have thick trunks that curve inwards, their arms reaching overhead to block out parts of the sky. Slivers of sunlight worm its way through the cracks in their fingers, and a sizable patch of blue still remains at the center of their chokehold. The ground is infested with poppies, their sickly sweet scent clogging the air and reaching behind George’s goggles to tug at his eyelids. But he’s not here to play along with their games. He’s here on business, to make his last desperate attempt to save Sapnap. He had hoped this crisis wouldn’t lead him here, but he was out of time.

George comes to a stop directly in the middle, then cups his hands around his mouth, calling out as loud as he can.

“XD! XD, where are you? I need to talk to you!”

He’s barely finished shouting when a gust of wind hits George square in the face, the poppies bending backwards with their petals reaching for the ground, the leaves on the trees hanging tight to their branches. There, appearing a foot away from George, was a god.

He’s easily double George’s height, even though this is his shrunken down size. A green cloak is draped around his shoulders, clasped around his neck with a loose golden chain. The hood is down, revealing tufts of blonde hair that seem to absorb the sun. Underneath the cloak is a hoodie, jeans, and boots, an outfit that George ignores the familiarity of. Covering his face is a blindingly white porcelain mask, only instead of the smile that most would expect on a mask like that, there is a giant pair of letters. An “X” across where the eyes would be, and a sideways “D” for the mouth, as if his jaw was always unlocked in amusement. When he speaks, his voice sounds as if it’s been multiplied various times, each copy a deeper, more distorted version of the one before it.

“After months of avoiding me, you expect me to just drop everything the second you decide you want to see me? I'm not at your beck and call, George.”

“I’m sorry, XD. I’ve been busy.”

XD scoffs. “With what? You don’t do anything.”

“I’ve been helping my friend, Sapnap.” George keeps his voice even, measured. XD is prone to blow ups, and George has found that staying calm is one of the ways he can retain a sense of control around the deity. “He’s been…struggling, and I had to take care of him. That’s why I came to see you, actually. I wanted to ask if you could help him. Something’s…wrong. With him. If you could take a look at him- see what’s wrong and fix it- that would really really help me.”

XD visibility stiffens. “So you want to ask for a favor. After abandoning me with no warning.”

George stamps down the urge to sigh. He doesn’t have the patience for XD’s whining today. “Look, I’m really sorry. I had no idea something was going to happen to Sapnap, and I’ve had no spare time since.”

XD tilts his head, contemplating. “So…if I help your Sapnap…you’ll spend more time with me?”

George nods hurriedly. “Yes, exactly.”

There’s silence for a moment, then XD shrugs his shoulders. “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Relief floods George faster than he can protest, like a warm drink chasing the chill from his bones. Finally, something he can do to actually help Sapnap. “Thank you XD.” George gives him a genuine, grateful smile. “Sapnap lives in Kinoko Kingdom, he’s got dark hair and-”

“I know who Sapnap is, I’m not stupid.”

George is taken aback, not realizing that him assuming otherwise would be a hit to XD’s pride. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were, I just thought-”

“I know everyone who lives here,” XD cuts in. “Besides, Sapnap’s your soulmate. Of course I know who he is.”

George’s relief instantly drains from him, leaving him to freeze over. “What did you say?”

“I said I know everyone, and you shouldn’t be surprised that I know Sapnap, since he’s your soulmate,” XD says, sounding slightly annoyed at George’s continued confusion.

“You know Sapnap and I are soulmates? How- how did you-”

“Yes, George, I know you two are soulmates, and Dream as well. I saw your bond when I looked at your soul.”

“You what? Looked at my soul? What does that even mean?” George is racing to catch up, his mind spinning in too many directions to see straight. He doesn’t know what the right questions to ask are. He doesn’t know how to navigate this type of conversation. For the first time in a while since his secret excursions with XD, he feels powerless, no shred of control left in his mortal hands.

“Is it really that surprising that I can see your soul? I’m a god, that’s child’s play to me.”

George shakes his head slightly to clear it. They were getting distracted. He needed to stay focused on his goal, and for XD to focus on his request. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, we aren’t soulmates anymore anyways.”

Now XD is the one who sounds confused. “What do you mean you’re not soulmates anymore? Last I checked, you still were. I could check right now if you want.”

Now that really didn’t make any sense. “But- I don’t feel anything Sapnap feels, our bond-”

XD cuts him off with a drawn out “oh,” his tone low and almost amused. “I understand now. Your bond is still there, you just don’t feel it the same way since I claimed your soul.”

George grows impossibly colder, XD’s words washing over him like the ice water he prepares everyday for Sapnap. “You what?"

“I claimed your soul,” XD says simply, as if he was telling George about the weather and not actively bringing his world crashing down around him.

“You claimed my soul? And that- that’s why I can’t feel what Sapnap is feeling?”

“Uh, yeah.”

George is no longer cold. Oh no. He’s burning up, a rage fueled fire spreading to every corner of his body to thaw him. This whole time, Sapnap had been suffering alone because of XD’s actions. He and Karl had been working tirelessly towards goals they weren’t sure how to achieve, doing pointless experiments and wasting hours they couldn’t get back trying to figure out what was wrong, when George had the answer all along. But he had insisted it couldn’t be soulmate related. Because why would it be? George hadn’t felt anything at all.

He hadn’t felt. Anything. At all.

He can feel his face growing more flushed by the second, his breaths getting heavier as he tries to stay calm, tries to stay in control. Eventually, he manages to grit out a single word. 

“Why?” 

“You promised to be my best friend, remember?” XD says, calling back to a day many months ago, one close to their first meeting. “You agreed we were best friends.”

"Doesn’t mean I agreed to have you claim my soul!" George shouts, before forcefully reeling himself back in, taking a harsh, deliberate breath before speaking again. “Undo this right now."

"But- we're best friends."

"My soul already belonged to two people. It wasn’t yours to take. You- you have to fix this." He jabs a finger in XD’s direction.

XD’s head tilts slightly downwards, examining the accusatory way George is pointing at him. "...this is because of that Sapnap, isn't it?" His voice begins steadily rising in volume. "You're ditching me for him. That's what this is about!"

Any semblance of calm George had managed to cling to slips through his fingers as he starts shouting again. "No, this has nothing to do with that and everything to do with you making decisions for me without asking me first!"

"Why do you care about them when you have me?" XD spreads his arms out, his cloak filling in the gaps between them like wings. “They don’t matter anymore. I’m your best friend now. You only need me."

“I’m allowed to have other friends, XD. And best friends aren’t defined by who owns who’s soul!”

“And yet, your soulmates were your best friends.”

George doesn’t have anything to say to that.

“See?” XD sneers. “I know what I’m talking about. And I’m not gonna let you back out on a promise just so you can go running back to those pathetic mortals.”

“This isn’t about them,” George snaps. It’s only partially true, but George needs to get XD away from the topic of Sapnap and Dream. “This is about me, and my soul being messed with without even telling me, nevermind asking me. You can’t- you can’t just do that to someone. You need to fix this right now, release my soul-”

The sky darkens as XD’s shadow grows, his presence going from towering to looming as his voice deepens, booming throughout the clearing. “YOU PROMISED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND FOREVER. YOU PROMISED.”

George has seen this rage before, but never directed at him and it causes him to take a step back. Clearly, he was not getting XD to budge on releasing his soul, at least not today. They were getting distracted from the real issue, the infinitely more important one. So George steels himself, trying not to let the sinking feeling in his chest keep him from following through.

“Ok, fine. Then we’re no longer best friends.” George crosses his arms, turning his gaze away from XD.

The sky immediately returns to the clear blue of afternoon, XD shrinking back to his human size. “What?” His voice is small now, timid.

“You said I abandoned you, right? Well, you’re not being a very good friend right now, so I don’t want to be friends with you anymore. I’ll just go back to leaving you alone.”

“But I want to be a good best friend,” XD says earnestly. “I can be a good best friend to you, George.”

“Well, best friends do things for each other. We can hang out more if you help Sapnap. That is, if you can, of course.”

XD bristles. “Of course I can. I’m a god, I  can do anything.”

“Alright, then do it.”

“And you’ll stay my best friend?”

George knows the underlying question in those words. He knows that if he agrees, he will never get his soul bond back.

But saving his soulmates is more important than keeping them.

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

XD nods, satisfied. “Ok. I will help, because I am a good friend.”

“Yes,” George says gravely. “The best.”

He just starts running. Quackity runs to the prison, needing to hear it from Dream before he can believe it himself. The sinking in his gut tells him it’s useless, that what Sapnap told him was enough. Quackity already knows. How could he not with how much Karl liked to blab on and on about soulmates?

Quackity had been thrilled to see Sapnap again. He had told Sapnap he was welcome in his country whenever he wanted, and he meant it. Just because Quackity and Karl were…no longer on good terms, didn't mean Quackity couldn't be amicable with Sapnap. He appreciated Sapnap’s well meaning attempt to fix things, no matter how naive it was. Even though Quackity had warned him against the idea, he went along with it anyway, having always struggled with telling Sapnap no. Especially when he looked so adorable, a fact Quackity was definitely keeping to himself. 

But no amount of good looks could hide how poorly Sapnap looked today. His face was sunken in, and his shoulders drooped like there were weights attached to his wrists, dragging them down. His steps were heavy and slow, no sign of the grace or speed he usually carried with him from his fancy swordsman footwork. His armor somehow made him look smaller instead of bigger, and he'd definitely lost weight, his muscles less prominent. He'd lost the sunkissed glow to his skin. He'd lost his easy smile. He'd lost the bright, contagious energy that made him Sapnap. 

Quackity didn't know if it was his place to ask, and Sapnap didn't offer up the information, but he eventually cracked, unable to stand the invisible issue clearly hanging over Sapnap’s head. The answer had him regretting ever asking and thanking every higher power he could think of that he did. If it was true, that Quackity was the cause for Sapnap’s suffering…he doesn’t know what he'll do.

So he runs. He runs to the one person who can give him answers.

When Sam greets him, he’s clearly shocked to see him.

“Quackity? What are you doing here?”

Ignoring the question, Quackity pushes past Sam, heading towards the prison entrance. “Sam, I need you to get me to Dream, right now.”

“Wh- what?” Sam hurries after him. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s a personal matter, but it’s very important. C’mon, hurry up!”

Sam rushes forward with his keycard, unlocking the doors. “What’s going on? If there’s an issue with the prisoner, I need to know.”

Quackity grits his teeth. “I told you, this is personal. Don’t worry about it, just get me to Dream.”

Sam keeps pushing, even as he continues to keep pace with Quackity and hurries to get them through each security barrier. There’s no signing of papers, no locking his things safely away, and he wishes he could make getting through each passageway faster instead of having to wait for the system to run its course. 

“As the Warden, I have to know if something is going on, it’s my responsibility to make sure-”

“Oh my- will you shut up, Sam? Just get me to Dream! I need to get there now!”

“I just need to know-”

“There’s nothing wrong, ok? Something- a personal matter of mine has come up, and I need to speak to Dream as soon as possible. Can you go any faster?”

“I’m trying!” Sam shouts. “It takes a second, alright?”

“You can’t do anything to speed this up?”

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

They bicker all the way until they reach the lava surrounding the main cell.

“Quackity, please,” Sam tries one final time. “Tell me what is going on!”

“Lower the lava, Sam.”

“Quackity!”

“Just lower the lava! Everything is fine, ok? Just do your fucking job!”

Sam finally quiets at that, turning and pressing the button to drain the lava so Quackity can cross. They don’t speak while they wait.

When Dream is revealed on the other side, Quackity’s gaze locks onto him instantly before having to look away, forcing himself to focus on the bridge while he crosses instead of trying to burn Dream alive solely using his eyes. He doesn’t take Sam’s weapons with him this time. He won’t be needing them.

By the time he reaches the cell, Quackity is fuming. A combination of seething hatred for Dream, aggravation with Sam, horror at the state Sapnap was in and the rising nausea over the thought that it could be his fault mixing into a sickening cocktail in his stomach. Dream, obviously picking up on his especially sour mood, has backed up to the farthest wall of the cell away from him. The sight of him cowering, for once, does nothing to improve Quackity’s mood.

He takes a few steps into the cell, waiting until the lava is fully back in place to speak. The sharp bite of his fingernails into his own palms is the only thing that keeps him patient.

“He's your soulmate, isn't he?” Quackity spits.

Dream’s eyes grow impossibly wider. “What?” His voice is faint, shaky.

“Sapnap. You and him are soulmates, right? Don’t fucking lie to me.”

He watches Dream swallow. Open his mouth. Close it. Swallow again.

“Tell me!” Quackity yells.

“Yes, he- he was, but-”

“You knew! You knew this whole time that I was hurting him, and you didn't- you- gah!”

Quackity buries his hands in his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He can't hit Dream, can't hurt him now that he knows Sapnap will suffer too.

“Quackity.” Dream's voice is scared, but with more force behind it than it's had in a while, since Quackity broke him down. “What are you talking about? What's going on?

“Why did it have to be you, huh? Why are you Sapnap's soulmate? He's too good for you. He doesn't deserve a piece of shit like you.”

Dream straightens, pulling off of the wall he had backed himself against. “And what, you think he's better off with you? You're even worse than I am! He's too good for you too!”

“You think I don't know that he deserves better than me? You think I don’t live with that fact every day of my life?” Quackity pauses, breathing deeply. “And I am not worse than you, we don't even compare, Dream," he hisses. "We are nothing alike. I will never stoop to your level.”

Dream just scoffs. “It doesn't matter anyway," he says bitterly. “The soulmate bond was broken a while ago.”

Quackity glares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Dream visibly braces himself, as if preparing to voice aloud the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. “We're not soulmates anymore. Our bond broke. We- he's not bound to me anymore.”

Quackity thinks he can't be surprised by the sheer audacity of this man any more, and then he goes and says shit like that. “I thought I told you not to fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!" Dream shouts. "Why would I lie about that? I literally have no reason to.”

“Then how come Sapnap told me he’s been feeling everything you have?”

“...he told you what?”

Quackity crosses his arms. “Yup. Every fucking night. The same time you and I get to have our little chats.”

Any color Dream’s face had regained from his screaming match with Quackity quickly evaporates. “What? No. No, no. What have you done, Quackity? What the fuck have you done?!”

“I don't know!” Quackity tears at his hair again. Don't lash out, don't lash out. "That's what I'm trying to get your sorry ass to tell me!”

Dream is suddenly moving towards Quackity with a sense of urgency. “Is Sapnap ok? Is George ok? Please tell me if they're ok, I'll do anything-”

Quackity takes a step to return some of the distance between him and Dream. He doesn’t want to be close to him if he can’t hit the bastard. “George? Why the fuck are you asking about George? It's Sapnap you should be worried about, dick.”

“Will you shut the fuck up and listen to me for once! Sapnap and George are both my soulmates! All three of us are! Fuck, Quackity!” 

Dream’s words settle over Quackity like a lead jacket. Sapnap and George? “I have- I have to go find George. And Sapnap.” He hurriedly signals to Sam that he’s ready to come back.

“Wait!” A hand lands on Quackity’s arm and he flinches away like he’s been burned, throwing Dream off of him with such force he lands on the ground with a grunt. The noise makes Quackity turn, panicked, but to his relief Dream appears alright and uninjured. 

“Please,” Dream continues, “just tell me if- are they- please.” Dream struggles, trying to figure out what exactly it is he wants to ask.

Quackity looks down at him coldly as the lava begins lowering in front of him. “Sapnap’s fine, Dream. And I'm pretty sure George is too, or Sapnap would have been a lot worse off than how I found him. Prime, what the fuck did either of them do to end up with a shitty soulmate like you?”

He doesn’t spare a single glance to Dream after that, eyes straight ahead as he crosses on the bridge. When he steps off, he shakes for a moment while the lava lowers back into place. As soon as he’s out of sight of Dream, he drops to his knees and throws up. Sam watches, a conflicted look on his face as he debates moving to help Quackity but ultimately decides it’s better to give him space.

Once he’s recovered, Quackity wipes his mouth on his sleeve then folds it over to hide the mess, rolling up his other sleeve to match. Taking a few more heaving breaths, he gets off his knees and makes one more demand of the Warden.

“Sam, I need a horse. Now.”

After his intense and, admittedly, disappointing exchange with Quackity, Sapnap had made the trek back to Kinoko alone, only to find no one waiting for him. He decides to take a nap anyway, both physically and emotionally exhausted from his various excursions and emotional exchanges that day, and wanting to get as much sleep as he could before the evening terrors kept him up.

It doesn’t take long for Sapnap to fall asleep, one moment closing his eyes and the next opening them to a bright blue sky and green grass that stretches onwards in all directions, climbing upwards into a hill a little ways ahead of him. He instantly knows where he is, which day he’s reliving. He knows every detail of this moment by heart.

It’s the day he learned that George and Dream were no longer his soulmates.

Sapnap had felt Dream's injuries as he and what must have been half the server followed Punz, heading towards where Dream was supposedly fighting Tommy and Tubbo. Sapnap didn’t doubt that Dream was still wrapped up in conflicts with the two of them, those three always seeming to go after each other, but he had no idea the severity of what Dream had done until they arrived and Sapnap saw for himself. As much as it broke his heart to do so, Sapnap was the first to step forward to bring Dream to the prison, locking him up somewhere he couldn’t hurt anybody else. 

Throughout the entire ordeal, George was nowhere to be found, which was the standard for him at the time. But Sapnap simply looks to the hilltop.

Sure enough, George appears over the crest of the hill, undoubtedly having felt Dream's injuries himself and hearing about what had been done. He shouts after Sapnap, running towards him and, powerless to change the memory despite it being a dream, Sapnap's warning comes too late. George's foot catches on an uneven patch of ground and he rolls, tumbling down the hill as Sapnap runs to try and stop his descent. Before he reaches him though, George has slammed into a rock, and his shitty iron pants, the ones Sapnap has yet to replace since George lost the netherite pair he got from Dream, splinter and break. When George finally rolls to a stop, Sapnap bracing him against the foot of the hill, George winces, clutching his leg. A thin trickle of blood peeks through a rip in George's clothes. But Sapnap makes no move to help him. He just stares.

“Sapnap?” George asks worriedly at his lack of response. “Sapnap, what’s wrong?” George reaches up and places a hand on Sapnap’s arm, and it startles him out of his daze, eyes ripping away from George's leg to lock onto his mismatched eyes instead, goggles lying somewhere lost in the grass.

“I didn't feel it,” he whispers. 

George's eyebrows pinch together. “What?”

“I didn't feel it. The cut on your leg,” he looks down again, “I didn't feel it.”

And it clicks in Sapnap’s head. The way the closing of the prison's vault doors behind him felt like a piece of him severing. The break he felt when he first laid eyes on a Dream who had backed a pair of defenseless kids into a corner, ready to kill them without reason.

The soul bond had broken.

The scene changes, and Sapnap is suddenly greeted with the sight of cold obsidian walls and the feeling of hot lava against his back. Standing in front of him is Dream, in plain clothes and his hair a little unkempt, but otherwise looking no worse for wear. His green eyes flash challengingly at Sapnap’s presence. Sapnap can’t remember the last time he saw Dream without his mask and armor on.

“Well well, look who finally decided to visit. Took you long enough.”

“Sorry I wasn’t in a rush to visit my evil best friend,” Sapnap retorts, words dripping with sarcasm. Any patience or maturity he thought he was going to hold onto for this conversation has been tossed into the lava to burn.

“Oh right, I’m ‘big-bad-evil Dream.’ You hate me now too?"

“I can’t believe you. You’re seriously trying to throw a pity party for yourself?”

“And I can’t believe you!” Dream shouts, posture suddenly ramrod straight. “After everything I’ve done for you, everything I still do for you-”

“You haven’t done jack shit for me, don’t even try to pull that. How has you disappearing from our lives been you ‘doing stuff’ for me? I don’t even recognize you anymore.” And it’s true. The glint in Dream’s eye used to carry curiosity, mirth, kindness, and ambition all rolled into one. Now it’s just that of a rabid dog, wild and looking for an opening to bite, uncaring of the damage that befalls its victims.

“You don’t recognize me? I  don’t recognize you!” Dream points an accusatory finger at Sapnap. “You turned on me! You turned your weapon on me and locked me up! You fought against me!”

“You were gonna kill Tommy and Tubbo!”

“You don’t understand anything! If you had just let me explain before throwing me in this shithole-”

“No one put you in here but yourself. The Dream I knew would never kill someone, much less a defenseless kid in an unbalanced fight, he had no weapon-"

“Well the feeling’s mutual, then, because the Sapnap I know would never turn on his best friend, or just follow everyone else like a mindless little sheep instead of trusting his soulmate!”

There’s a pause, both of them breathing heavily. It feels weird to hear that word spoken aloud again, much less yelled by Dream. Something sour creeps along Sapnap’s tongue.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we aren’t soulmates anymore.”

Something passes across Dream’s face. Sapnap wishes he could read him as well as he used to so he could put a name to it. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right.” Sapnap moves into Dream’s space, not stopping until their faces are an inch apart from each other. Dream doesn’t flinch.

“George and I figured it out the day you were put in here. We aren’t soulmates anymore, Dream. Our bond is fucking broken. So there’s nothing stopping me from killing you if you ever dare set foot outside of this prison. Try to escape, and I will end you.”

Another thing Sapnap can’t identify flickers over Dream’s face before he narrows his eyes and tilts his head ever so slightly closer to Sapnap, making a point to angle his gaze so he’s properly looking down on him.

“Then there’ll be nothing to stop me from burning Kinoko to the ground the second I get out of here.”

Sapnap scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge?”

“No. It’s a promise.” Sapnap steps back until the heat of the lava overpowers that of Dream’s stare. “If you escape from here, I promise you, I will be the one to kill you.”

Then Dream’s figure starts to blur, going soft and wispy around the edges. 

“Dream?” Sapnap calls out, confused, and then someone steps through where Dream was standing, causing him and the rest of the prison cell to evaporate around Sapnap. He's left in a blank, white hallway that, when he looks around, seems never ending.

“Hello. Sapnap, right?” The voice is distorted, multiple repetitions of the same words echoing around him in time with one another.

“Yeah?” Sapnap squints against the brightness of the room and stranger as the figure begins to sharpen in front of him, revealing a huge, floating figure clad in a deep green cloak that billows around him, its form hidden in the swathes of material. Sprouting from its back is a giant pair of white, feathery wings, feathers ruffling slightly but otherwise remaining still. Its head seems to be a smooth white orb that floats above where its neck would be, with a giant sideways “D” drawn across the bottom half in stark black lines, almost imitating a mouth. Two sets of criss-crossing golden halos encircle the orb, spinning in circles and then coming to a stop as a large, singular eye blinks open where they cross, materializing out of nowhere. Sapnap is vaguely reminded of an ender eye, with its thin black pupil and multitude of green shades. The eye seems to open wider, leaning forwards to inspect him. Sapnap takes a step back on instinct, but it does nothing to move him away from the stranger.

“Hm, not very remarkable. ”

“Wha- what?”

The orb tilts to one side, then the other, considering Sapnap. “Yeah, I don’t see what the fuss was about. I’m not impressed.”

“Who- who are you?” Sapnap manages to stammer out. Is he dying, or is this still a dream?

“You’ve been experiencing pain each night for some time now, right?” the stranger asks, ignoring Sapnap’s question.

“How- how do you know that?”

“Answer the question.”

Sapnap finds himself reflexively reaching for his sword only to realize he’s still in a dream. “Uh, yeah. I have.”

“I have the power to take it away.”

This dream was getting weirder by the second. “You…can help me?”

“Yes. I can stop all your pain.”

For such a delicate, highly charged topic, one that has completely changed Sapnap’s life as he knows it, the stranger speaks about it in a very detached, matter-of-fact way. Sapnap’s not sure what to make of it. “How are you going to make it stop?”

“The pain is coming from your soul. I can protect you from it, but you must do something for me in return.”

Of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch, even in dreams. “What do you want?”

A hand appears from underneath the folds of the figure’s cloak, reaching towards Sapnap to offer the object it’s holding. A simple, leatherbound book.

“What’s that?” Sapnap asks.

“This is the Book of Death. Since I am so graciously protecting your soul, I want you to collect souls for me using this book. Simply write someone’s name on a page, and I will be able to take their soul.”

“...take their soul? You want me to kill people for you?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“No. Absolutely the fuck not.” Who does this stranger think he is? A personal assassin?

“...no?” The stranger sounds almost offended.

“No.”

“You’re denying me?  I come to you, I seek you out and offer you relief from your suffering and power over the dead and you say no?"

Sapnap thinks over the words. “Uh, yeah, that pretty much covers it.” 

“Even at the cost of your own life?! You’d rather go on suffering than make a deal where I can save you?”

“Yes,” Sapnap grits out, starting to grow annoyed. “What aren’t you getting? Are you too stupid to understand a two letter word? I said no. Now fuck off.”

The being scoffs. “I’m done with you anyway.”

Sapanp wakes abruptly with a gasp, shooting up in bed. He looks around his bedroom to make sure he’s actually here, clenching the blanket beneath his hands to make sure it won’t disappear into smoke. Sighing, he relaxes, trying to shake off the strangest dream he’s ever had.

Then he hears the shouting.

Scrambling out of bed, he doesn’t even bother putting shoes on before running to the front door and yanking it open. Karl, who is standing in front of it, startles at the sound and stops mid-sentence, turning quickly. His eyes widen when they land on Sapnap and he moves towards him, saying in a panicked but stern voice, “Sapnap, go back inside.” Karl attempts to shove him back from the door, but he’s shaking so badly that even in Sapnap’s weakened state, he doesn’t succeed in moving him. But Sapnap isn’t paying attention to Karl. His eyes are locked with the mismatched ones that are staring at him from a few feet away, one of them covered by a long scar.

“Quackity?”

"Sapnap, thank fucking prime.” Quackity’s voice shakes slightly, something Sapnap isn’t used to hearing. It’s dripping in relief and what sounds like desperation. “Please, let me-”

"No, we're not letting you do anything," Karl cuts in. “Sapnap, go back inside."

“No wait, please!” Quackity shouts, stepping closer until Karl glares at him, causing him to freeze. “Sapnap, I need to talk to you and George.”

“I won’t let you!” Karl shouts back, now standing directly in between Sapnap and Quackity with his arms spread out to further shield Sapnap. “You’re not allowed to speak to either of them, don’t even come near them. Leave us alone!”

“For fucks sake, Karl! I already told you, I’m not here to fight! It’s very important that I speak with George and Sapnap right now!"

“You’re a liar. Why should I trust anything you say? Now leave, before-"

“Hey!” Sapnap shouts, getting both Karl and Quackity to immediately fall quiet. Sapnap’s breathing had picked up, panic brewing at the sight and sound of them arguing. It was too much like last time, the senseless yelling that led to Sapnap having to watch Quackity walk away. He couldn’t- wouldn’t sit through that again. At least they listened to him this time.

He plants himself between Karl and Quackity, a hand outstretched towards each of them in a placating gesture. “Let’s chill out for a sec, ok? Karl, I know you and Quackity aren’t on good terms right now, but I trust him. I want to talk to him.”

Karl’s face falls. “Sapnap, no. We don’t know what he’s planning, he could hurt you, and I won’t-”

“It’s ok, Karl.” Sapnap moves to stand next to him, lifting a gentle hand to cup the side of his face. “Quackity’s not going to hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

Karl gives him a pained look, his eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t trust him.” His eyes cut to where Quackity is silently watching them, his arms crossed and knuckles white from how hard he’s holding himself.

Sapnap grabs the other side of Karl’s face and turns him to meet Sapnap’s eyes again. “Then trust me.”

Karl stares him down for a few seconds more, but Sapnap sees the moment he relents, shoulders dropping and the fire in his eyes dimming. Karl takes both of Sapnap’s hands by the wrists, moving them from their hold on his face and bringing them around to kiss the backs of them lightly.

“I still don’t trust him. But I trust you.”

Sapnap gives him a soft smile. “Thank you.” He releases Karl’s hands, then steps aside to clear the doorway, gesturing for Quackity to come in. “We can wait inside for George.” 

Quackity cautiously moves forward, and Sapnap can clearly see he’s watching Karl out of the corner of his eye the entire time even as he tries to hide it. Once Quackity passes through the doorway, Karl moves to follow but Quackity holds out a hand to stop him. 

“I need to speak with them alone.”

Karl’s cheeks flush an angry red, and Sapnap cuts in before he can start yelling again. “Quackity, I trust Karl with my life. He can stay if he wants.”

“No Sapnap, you don’t understand. I have to talk to you and George about this alone. You can tell him another time if you want, that’s your choice, but I can’t discuss this with anyone else.”

“...just me and George?”

Quackity nods.

Sapnap sighs. “Ok.”

Karl swallows, then glances to Sapnap one more time before leaving, closing the front door gently behind him. Sapnap shoves down the guilt rising in his stomach and moves to sit at the dining table, watching Quackity pull out a chair to do the same. 

There’s an awkward silence where Quackity fiddles with his hands on the table and Sapnap just watches him. Quackity eventually breaks the silence to ask, “Where’s George?”

Sapnap shrugs. “I’m not sure. He should be here soon though, he won’t be gone long.”

Quackity nods stiffly.

“Can you really not tell me what this is about until he gets here?”

“I…would rather tell you both at the same time. That’s all.” Quackity still won’t look at him, his gaze locked on his own fidgeting hands.

Sapnap swallows past the lump in his throat and takes a leap. “It’s still nice to see you again.”

He’s barely finished the sentence when Quackity is vehemently shaking his head. “No, I’m not…I didn’t come here with anything good to tell you, I- I came here to apologize.”

Sapnap frowns. “What-”

“I’m sorry for running off on you, by the way. Earlier. In Las Nevadas.”

“Oh. It’s ok. I didn’t tell you I was coming by or anything.”

“Still,” Quackity finally looks up at him, “you were a guest in my country, and I abandoned you. So I’m sorry. I just…had something really important to do. Which I’ll explain.”

“...was that what you came to apologize for?” Sapnap tilts his head questioningly. “Because you really didn’t need to, it’s ok.”

“No, no I-”

Quackity is cut off by the door banging open, an out of breath George panting in the doorway.

“Sapnap, I need to-” George stops, his exposed eyes landing on Quackity. “What are you doing here?”

Quackity rises from his seat. “Hi George. I really need to speak with you and Sapnap.” When George doesn’t move, still taking heaving breaths as he stares blankly at Quackity as if still processing the fact that he’s here, in Sapnap’s house, Sapnap pulls out the chair next to him and pats the seat.

“C’mon George. Sit with us.”

George’s gaze snaps over to Sapnap and he finally unfreezes, closing the door and walking stiffly over to take his seat. Quackity slowly sits back down. His hands return to resting on top of the table but this time they’re steady, carefully folded together. When he speaks, it’s slow, deliberate.

“So. I know you’ve both been dealing with…unexplainable pain at night. I’m here to tell you why.”

Sapnap exchanges a confused look with George before explaining in the same careful, hesitant tone that Quackity is using. 

“Quackity, when I told you that, I meant that it was only happening to me. No one else.”

“Yeah,” George chimes in. “I’m completely fine. It’s only Sapnap that has- yeah.”

Now Quackity looks just as confused as they are. “But- aren’t you two soulmates?”

Everything comes to a stop. Sapnap’s nervously bouncing leg, the racing thoughts in his mind, his breathing. He feels more than sees George stiffen, straightening up in his chair.

“How did you know we were soulmates?” George asks cooly, but with no room for argument in his tone.

“Dream told me.”

Sapnap speaks at the same time as George.

“You spoke to Dream?”

“Dream told you?”

Quackity flinches, either from the interested concern in Sapnap’s voice, the disbelief in George’s, or the combined force of the two being thrown at him at once.

“I- yes, I talked to Dream. I went to see him before I came here.”

Now Sapnap is beyond confused. He’s still at a loss over Quackity’s presence in Kinoko, something he never even dared hope would happen again, and now he’s been to visit Dream? And he knows the three of them are soulmates? Something that very few people have known for so long? Sapnap’s head is spinning so much he thinks he may need to lie down again.

George narrows his eyes. “And you got Dream to tell you we were soulmates?”

“Yes, because- well, he’s been- getting hurt. So you’ve been getting hurt.”

Sapnap stares. There’s…just no way. Their soul bond broke long ago. He knows it did. George has been fine this whole time. Besides, Dream is safe in the prison, right? Nothing could get to him, much less hurt him. It’s impossible.

“No.” Sapnap shakes his head. “George isn’t feeling it. You’re lying. Why would you lie about something like that? What’s going on with you, Quackity?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Because! You can’t be right, it- it has to be something else-”

“Sapnap.” George puts a hand on his arm. “He’s telling the truth.”

“George?” Sapnap turns to him, wide-eyed. He can’t accept this. For Quackity to be right would mean that Dream really is in danger, just like Sapnap has been. And despite how they left things, and how pissed Sapnap still is at him, he can’t help the alarm that rises in his throat at the thought of Dream in danger. And that would mean- George wouldn’t-

“How do you know?” he demands.

“I…saw Quackity. Outside the prison.” George stares Quackity down. “It makes sense that he was visiting.”

Sapnap shakes his head. “I still don’t see how this relates to me. That- this isn’t what’s been happening to me.”

“Yes, it is!” Quackity bursts out. “It happens every night, just after sunset, right? And it's intense and painful and-” he chokes off, voice rising the longer he talks. “It's like you're getting hit over and over again, with an axe or a sword or a fist and sometimes you think it's over and then it comes back twice as painful. Right?"

Sapnap’s jaw drops. “How- how could you possibly know that?”

“Because,” Quackity slumps, defeated, his voice returning to its original volume. “I've been doing that to Dream.” 

Sapnap’s vision darkens around the edges. “You- what?”

“I’ve been visiting Dream. Every night.” Quackity speaks plainly now, like he’s already in line for his own execution and no amount of pleading or emotion in his voice will change his fate. “I’ve been torturing him to get him to hand over the Revive Book.”

There’s movement next to him that brings Sapnap back to reality with startling clarity. George has shot out of his chair, lunging across the table towards Quackity.

“Woah!” Sapnap grabs onto George as Quackity leaps back, putting as much distance as he can between himself and a snarling, thrashing George inside the small room.

Sapnap uses his entire body weight to keep George from surging forward, grappling with his arms to try and pin them down from where they’re clawing at the air in Quackity’s direction. “George, calm down!”

“Did you not hear what he just said, Sapnap?” George snaps. “He’s been torturing Dream, he’s the reason you’ve been suffering for months! That we’ve all been suffering! He hurt you! He hurt Dream!"

“I know, George, I know, but please, I need you to chill the fuck out right now. Please.”

George stills in Sapnap’s arms, breathing heavily and still glaring at Quackity like he wants to tear each of his limbs off one by one.

“Quackity, you better leave. Before George or I do something we’ll regret.”

Quackity opens his mouth, then closes it. His eyes are shining with barely held back tears. Sapnap both hurts for him and hates him for it.

Just as Quackity is about to leave, Sapnap calls out to him one more time. “We’ll talk later, ok? When I’m ready.”

Quackity doesn’t turn around, he just nods jerkily, and then he’s gone.

As soon as the door shuts it’s like all of the energy leaves George at once, his body slipping out of Sapnap’s arms and sinking back into his chair, hands covering his face.

“George,” Sapnap says quietly, sitting back down beside him. George’s shoulders just shake in response. Sapnap puts a tentative hand on George’s back, and when he doesn’t move away Sapnap begins to rub up and down in soothing motions. George shudders underneath his ministrations, not letting himself lean into the comfort but unable to deprive himself of it either.

Neither of them speak. For George, he guesses that he’s keeping quiet because if he tries to speak he’ll cry, that the floodgates will open and threaten to drown them both. For Sapnap, it’s because he’s at a loss for what to say, still processing the many shocks he’s just gone through. He’s still soulmates with Dream. Neither of them are soulmates with George. Quackity, someone who used to be his lover, someone he used to deeply care for and, guiltily, still does, has been torturing his also estranged best friend for months and thus torturing Sapnap without realizing, and now…what are they left with? A bunch of people who used to be close but still managed to severely hurt each other despite the distance. Sapnap mourns Dream, mourns George, mourns Quackity, mourns newfound loses and old ones that never stopped hurting him.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been when the silence is interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

George lifts his head, turning toward the sound. “Stay here,” he orders. He gets up, cracking the door before throwing it all the way open to reveal a jittery Karl.

“I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait any longer. It's sunset.”

Sapnap’s head whips around to the nearest window and realizes he's right. The sun is halfway set over the horizon already.

Sapnap watches the sun disappear, and for the first time in almost three months, he doesn’t feel a thing.

Telling Karl doesn’t go poorly, but George thinks it definitely could’ve gone better. As soon as Sapnap is done explaining, Karl stands abruptly from where he’d been sitting across from them.

“I- I’m sorry, I need a minute.” Then he’s out the door, disappearing into the night. Sapnap wants to go after him, but George convinces him to give Karl space. It looked like he needed it. The more Sapnap talked, the paler Karl had gone, and he looked nauseous when he left.

George manages to get Sapnap into bed. He crawls under the covers with him, holding Sapnap while he cries into George’s chest until he falls asleep. George doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep himself, too wound up from the events of the day, but he must have been more exhausted than he realized because he blinks and it’s morning, sunlight streaming through the window.

Sapnap is still held securely in his arms, snoring lightly. When George looks down, he sees his face is a splotchy red from how much he cried last night, but with his slightly parted mouth and relaxed brow, he manages to look as he always does when he’s asleep. At peace.

It’s been a while since George has been here. Not just sleeping properly in a bed, something his back is thanking him for after the nearly three months of passing out hunched over Sapnap’s bed, too tired from the night's events to do anything but fall asleep right where he was and unwilling to leave his post. But sleeping curled up with Sapnap like this? It feels like a lifetime ago, when he, Sapnap, and Dream would spend their nights on the road huddled together in some small, hidden corner, while they rotated who kept watch. That was back during their adventures, before they had decided to park here for a bit.

The thought of Dream brings everything rushing back to him. As soon as XD had left to help Sapnap, George had taken off back to Kinoko. The last thing he expected to see was Quackity in Sapnap’s house, wanting to talk to them both. He supplied the other missing half of the story, the answers George, Karl, and Sapnap had been spending every waking moment, every ounce of their energy, trying to find. George hadn’t even had time to process what he had learned from XD about his soulbond, and then he was immediately hit with the knowledge that both of his soulmates- who he could no longer reach- were being straight up tortured.

But knowing didn’t do anything in the end. He had agreed for XD to keep possession of his soul and his time in exchange for saving Sapnap, when all they really needed was Quackity. And George was still useless, still disconnected from the people he loves most, still powerless to save his friends or himself.

What was he even supposed to do now? This was the first night in months that Sapnap hadn’t had to endure agonizing pain while George and Karl watched helplessly. It’s the first day in months that George is free to do whatever he wants. No gathering materials for Karl, no making the trek to colder regions to cut chunks of ice for the water basin, no washing and changing sweat soaked bed sheets. No more chores. George should be grateful, but all he can feel is a weight in his stomach growing heavier and heavier. While the three of them had been holed up in Kinoko, Dream had been locked in the prison going through that same pain. Alone. Using what he had witnessed from Sapnap, his imagination runs wild picturing the things that could have been done to him. How did he endure it all with no one to tend to his wounds? No one to lean on? No one to even attempt to intervene? George’s grip on Sapnap tightens, pulling him closer.

The day he and Sapnap had been led to believe their soul bond had broken was…beyond devastating. There wasn’t a word strong enough to describe the way George had felt when they realized. It was like his chest was caving in and being cut open at the same time. Like his heartbeat was speeding up but his breathing was slowing to a stop. Like everything he had ever believed about the world, everything he thought he understood about not only life but himself, had been ripped away from him, leaving him defenseless. Lost. Exposed. A fish thrown into a sea of sharks and told to swim.

He had stopped caring about, well, most things. He stopped wearing armor. He stopped training or any semblance of keeping up his combat skills. He started being more reckless with himself, uncaring if he found himself in dangerous situations or drawn further into the interest of a temperamental, apathetic god. Because what was the point anymore? Why bother taking any of these precautions, why work so hard to protect himself, when it no longer mattered to the two people he was doing it for?

But he was still tied to them. All this time, he had been wishing he could help Sapnap, had seen his best friend in pain and knew he should’ve been suffering with him. And he was right. He should’ve been. But his foolishness had robbed him of the ability to support Sapnap in a way exclusive to him and Dream. To truly understand what he was going through, more intimately than anyone else could. George wasn’t a part of that now. He couldn’t do that for Sapnap anymore, or Dream. He had been severed from them, locked in a glass box doomed only to watch and never touch. He might as well have lost his soulmates. Nothing has changed. It should comfort him to know that his soulbond hasn’t broken and that Sapnap and Dream still have each other, but it stings to know that he is an outsider now, a part of the rest of the world that is separate from the two of them, instead of all three of them being separate from the world together.

He tries not to dwell on it. There’s nothing he can do about it now anyway. Even though he can’t feel it, he’s still connected to them, and has been throughout all that time spent alone, away from them. He was still technically their soulmate. That has to count for something.

George’s thoughts are interrupted when he feels Sapnap stirring against him. Reaching up, he gently brushes the hair out of Sapnap’s eyes, then leaves his hand there, lightly combing through the dark strands in an attempt to make the transition from asleep to awake less jarring. 

"George?" Sapnap says groggily.

"Morning Sapnap." He keeps petting his hair. "Sleep ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Well enough."

Sapnap scoots back, only going far enough to be able to look around the room before meeting George's eyes.

"Karl?"

George just shakes his head. Sighing, Sapnap relaxes back into the mattress, watching George watch him.

“How are you feeling?”

Sapnap huffs. “Not great. Hurt. Stupid. Sad.” He pauses, then adds in a quieter voice, “Heartbroken.”

George pulls him into a hug, his arms wound tight around Sapnap as if he could force all the heartache and upset out of him.

“How about you?” Sapnap mumbles into his chest.

“Hmm?”

“How are you feeling after everything?”

“Eh, I’m fine. This wasn’t really about me, anyway.”

He feels Sapnap frown from where his face is squished against him. “Y’know what? We should talk about this,” Sapnap declares as he pushes out of George’s embrace.

“Sapnap, I’m fine, you don’t need to overreact. Besides, you need to rest.”

“I’ve done plenty of resting for two-and-a-half months.” Sapnap sits upright in bed, patting the spot next to him.

George frowns at him from where he’s still laying flat on the mattress. “This is stupid. We don’t need to talk. It's too fucking early.”

“Well I want to talk. It will help me.”

Groaning, George pushes himself into a sitting position, resting against the headboard next to Sapnap.

“So,” Sapnap begins, “Dream and I are still soulmates.”

Just getting right into it, then. George inhales deeply before nodding.

“But we aren’t.”

George nods again.

“It doesn’t make any sense. How can two of us still be soulmates, but not all three of us? I was so sure I felt it break. I don’t know what happened, George. I don’t feel closer to Dream than to you, I swear, especially after-”

“I know, Sapnap.” George cuts him off before he can get too worked up. “It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“I just...I feel like we solved one of our problems, only to get hit with ten million others. Between us, and Karl being so upset, and Quackity-” Sapnap stops, voice catching.

“Do you wanna talk about that?” George asks kindly, but before he’s finished asking Sapnap is vehemently shaking his head.

“No. I don’t- I can’t look at that right now.”

George understands that. There’s a lot of things he can’t bring himself to look at. It’s part of what led them here.

Sapnap takes his hand, linking them together. “We’ll figure out what happened. We’ll fix our soulbond, no matter what. I promise.” He squeezes George’s hand to match the force behind his words.

George’s throat closes up under the intensity of Sapnap’s gaze, but he manages to give him a weak smile. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Sapnap he’s wrong.

“I feel kind of stupid, in hindsight,” Sapnap continues. “I should’ve known what was going on with me, should’ve recognized it. It was just-” He looks down at their joined hands. “It seemed impossible.”

He was right. Shortly after everything started, Sapnap had pulled George aside to be absolutely sure that nothing was going on with him. They had both agreed the random pain that seemingly came from nowhere was reminiscent of their soulbond, but was ultimately not to blame. Their bond was still severed. George was unaffected, and Dream was safely locked inside the prison, or so they thought at the time.

“I'm so sorry Sapnap,” George manages against the brewing guilt in his gut. “I'm so sorry you've been going through this alone without me.”

Sapnap gives him a confused look. “What are you talking about? You have been going through this with me. You and Karl have been by my side the whole time.”

“But not in the way that counts, in the way that I should be able to. You're suffering alone when you should be sharing it with me. And it's my fault that I can’t do that for you. It's all my fault.” Because it is. George was to blame for losing his soulmates, for prolonging both Sapnap and Dream’s suffering just so he could mess around with a god instead of facing his problems or his friends.

Sapnap’s eyes are wide, gazing at George’s steadily dampening ones. “Of course it's not your fault, George. You couldn’t have known-”

“But I've been hiding for a while now. Ignoring everything to make it hurt less. I just wanted to ignore my own pain, but I ended up ignoring yours too.” He’s not talking about the torture anymore, but he’s certain Sapnap knows that.

“It's ok, George. I was ignoring it too.”

This time it’s Sapnap that pulls George into a hug. He feels rotten for crying, for making this conversation about him when it should be about Sapnap. He wasn’t the one who had to lie in bed every night for practically three months just taking every agonizing blow that was given to him. But he and Sapnap are both right. They ignored too much for too long, and it didn’t do anyone any good.

“You were there for me in all the ways that mattered, George,” Sapnap says, somehow speaking both gently and fiercely at the same time. “You went above and beyond taking care of me, and most importantly, you were there. You may not have solved the problem, none of us did in the end, but you didn’t leave me, not for a second. It drove me a little crazy sometimes,” George laughs wetly at that, “but I still appreciate it. Appreciate you. I'm so glad you’re here, George. You don’t even know how happy I am to have you back.”

George clings to Sapnap, silently saying I’m glad I’m here too. I want you in my life. I’m not going anywhere ever again. And though he’ll have to go somewhere soon, it won’t be for too long. He’s not going to disappear again, not going to succumb to easy escapes and silent distance. He’s going to face it head on, his commitment to XD and his re-established presence in Kinoko. And as daunting as it is, as daunting as life can be, he knows they’ll be ok, him and Sapnap. Tragic circumstances are what forcibly brought them back together, but this time, George is never letting go.

Sapnap said he would come to him when he's ready, so Quackity waits. He tries to go about business as usual, his country won't run itself, but it's hard to be confident in your leadership abilities when you know you've fucked up big time.

He finds himself running every decision through his citizens instead of outright instructing them to carry out his vision. He's slower to provide solutions when problems are brought to his attention. He stares at the paperwork on his desk, drafting and redrafting every word he writes. At night, he dreams about being back in the prison, but instead of torturing Dream it's Sapnap on the other end of his blade.

He stops visiting Dream, telling Sam it’s time to focus on other things and that trying to get the Revive Book is a dead end. He stresses that Sam needs to protect Dream from now on, and though he won’t say how, he warns Sam that he will know if anything happens. When Sam protests, confused at Quackity’s sudden change of heart, he tells him that since Dream won’t hand over the book, the original plan of protecting Dream to preserve their ability to bring people back from death is their best bet. He’s not sure Sam fully buys it, but it’s the best Quackity can do without putting Sapnap in danger by telling the truth.

He doesn't watch the sunset anymore. Instead of his evening walk, he shuts himself in a windowless room or occupies himself with a task that takes all of his focus until he's safe from the glaring colors. It’s only fair that he’s no longer able to bask in its beauty, that it should serve as a daily reminder of what he’s done.

Quackity is at the top of the needle, leaning against the balcony as he looks down on the city he’s built. He’s still proud of it, even with how he’s tainted it. Even though he’s never been able to look at it without thinking of the people he originally built it for, none of whom will ever want to step foot here now. He’d already cut ties with Karl and George, but it still stings, no matter how much he thinks he’s not allowed to be hurt. This was his fault. He spent so long being bitter over how they hurt him, and he went and hurt them right back without meaning to. Funny how these things work out.

It was still painful to be back there again. He was expecting Karl’s hatred this time, but that didn’t stop it from searing right through him, leaving singe marks around the hole in his chest. He could feel the chain around his neck grow tighter as he watched Sapnap and Karl together, the rings hidden beneath his shirt growing heavier with each kind word that was reserved for them and them only, while all he got was distrust and disgust and fear. And the worst part is, they were right. They were right to treat him that way. 

“Quackity?”

The voice startles Quackity from his thoughts. He whips around, hand already reaching for a weapon that isn’t there, when he sees it’s Sapnap. He already looks better, the bags under his eyes are lighter and his face is already filling out. His armor still looks awkward on his frame, but he holds himself with more confidence, less defeat in his stance. It’s barely been a week. Quackity was hurting him that much.

Sapnap puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Tubbo said I would find you here, told me to go right up.”

Quackity forces his body to relax, but the tension zipping through every one of his nerves stays. The last time he and Sapnap were standing here on this very balcony, Sapnap had convinced him to follow him back to Kinoko and see Karl. It was the night that Karl, someone who used to love him, accused him of being a murderer. Who looked Quackity in the eyes and said he didn’t recognize him.

Quackity watches as Sapnap cautiously moves to stand next to him, keeping a good couple feet between them. When Quackity is still unable to say anything, Sapnap copies what he found Quackity doing, glancing over at the view the needle provides.

“It’s an amazing view up here,” Sapnap admits.

Quackity nods. “I always wanted you to see this view properly. I wanted you to like this place, to visit more often.” He shakes his head. “But not like this. I never, ever wanted this.”

“Why?” Sapnap doesn’t elaborate, but Quackity knows what he’s asking. He sighs.

“Why would anyone? I wanted the Revive Book,” he says bitterly. “I didn’t want him to hold any power over me, or anyone, ever again. So I tortured him.” He leaves out the part where he started to enjoy it. Sapnap already knows Quackity is a monster, but he can’t bear to have Sapnap look at him like one.

Sapnap sighs, exhausted. “I’m no better.”

That…was not the response Quackity was expecting. “What?”

Sapnap shrugs. “It’s true. I only visited Dream once, and it was to tell him I would kill him if he ever got out.”

Quackity can’t hold back a scoff. “Yeah, like you were gonna kill him. You’re upset that he was being tortured by someone else. I don’t think you have it in you to hurt him, much less kill him. You’re not like that, Sapnap. You’re…good.”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of. And I’m not just upset that someone was torturing him. Obviously I’m upset he was hurt at all, but it hurts me more knowing that it was you, Quackity. I- you mean a lot to me, and you hurt Dream, who is- was- my best friend. And you knew that. You know how hard this was for me. Or you would have, if you had been around.”

Quackity bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. He wasn’t going to rehash that argument with Sapnap. That’s not what this is about. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know what to do,” Sapnap continues. “I…do you know how much I wanted you back in my life? In our lives? I miss you so much, Quackity. I’ve been missing you for so long. And even though things went really badly between you and Karl for some reason that I still don’t understand, I haven’t stopped hoping we would find a way to fix things. And now…I don’t know anymore.”

Quackity is trying so hard not to cry, but Sapnap’s words are breaking him in half. Sapnap wanted him back. And Quackity has ruined any chances of that happening, has irreversibly hurt the one person that was still willing to take a chance on him, the one person Quackity hasn’t been able to shut out from his own heart. Because if Quackity was being fully, brutally honest with himself, he never stopped loving Sapnap and Karl. Never stopped caring about George. But he had locked all of that away, buried it deep inside himself even as they continued to haunt his every move. Sapnap was the only one he had dared to touch, opening the lid just a crack so a sliver of light could escape and warm his whole body. But Quackity had stamped that light out with his own two feet.

“I'm sorry Sapnap.” His voice is scratchy, hollow. “I'm so, so sorry, sorry for all of it, sorry-”

“Stop. Please.” Quackity forcibly swallows the rest of his words. “There’s no use in you apologizing. I know you regret it. But I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

Quackity knew this was a possibility, that he should expect it, but it still makes his heart sink into his stomach. He’s never going to be able to fix this, is he? 

“I just- I want to know,” Sapnap continues. “If hurting Dream didn’t physically hurt me, if I had never found out about this, would you have kept going?”

Quackity’s silence is answer enough.

“What about if I did find out?” Sapnap presses. “What if it didn’t affect me, but I found out and asked you to stop? Would you?”

Quackity wants to say yes, but he takes a moment to really think about it, to think about his headspace a couple weeks ago and if Sapnap would have had any power to change it.

“I don’t know,” he says. It makes bile rise in the back of his throat, but it’s the truth.

Sapnap nods jerkily, and Quackity thinks he sees something shining in the corner of his eye but then he’s turning around, heading towards the exit. But before he reaches it he halts, turning to ask Quackity one more thing.

“Hey, if I needed a favor from you, in…a few days or so, could I…would you help me?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Anything you need. Just send a letter up to my office.” The “if you don’t want to see me” goes unsaid.

Sapnap lingers for a moment, looking like he wants to say something else, but ultimately leaves without another word. The second his footsteps fade away, Quackity dissolves into tears. Big, heaving, uncontrollable sobs. He scrambles back from the balcony so no one will see or hear him, sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest and crying into his own folded arms. He doesn’t want to watch Sapnap disappear from Las Nevadas anyway.

He cries for the pain he caused Sapnap, the pain he caused George and even Karl, cries for how long he put them all through that without knowing. He cries for ever putting them through it in the first place. He was so caught up in his own hurt, so focused on his own quest for power and the security it would bring him so he couldn’t ever be hurt again, that he just created new wounds alongside the old ones he re-opened in the process. He cries over the loss of the people he built this country for, over the two holes in his heart where his lovers, his fiances, should be.

He has a country to run, a million things he should be doing right now, people who are depending on him, but all Quackity can bring himself to do is sit there alone, and weep.

Quackity is always punctual. Since his little visits started, Dream has been able to watch the gold clock that hangs on his cell wall shift towards the same hour each night. The same hour that he knows will bring the fall of the lava that shields him, revealing Quackity waiting on the other side. And each night, without fail, Quackity steps into Dream’s cell, mounts his tools on the wall, and doles out whatever verbal and physical abuse he sees fit that day. 

If nothing else, Dream can expect when the torture will happen, even if there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. 

So it was ten times more alarming the night Quackity showed up early. 

Dream had been laying on his back, watching the steady drip of the crying obsidian above him, when he saw the lava shift out of the corner of his eye. He rises hastily, glancing at the clock to see he still had a couple hours before Quackity was due. Was it someone else? It had been so long since Dream had any variance in his visitors. Quite a few people visited him in his early days in prison, but it seemed most people wanted to forget him and he was left alone for a while. And since Quackity began making his daily visits, well, no one else had seen Dream besides Sam. That was probably by design.

But no. The small flicker of hope that Dream hadn’t been quick enough to squash that someone, anyone, would come see what was happening to him, instantly froze over in cold fear when Quackity’s stony figure was revealed. As the bridge carried him closer, Dream had taken more and more steps back until he was pressed flat against the wall, as far as he could possibly get from the lava and the approaching man. Quackity’s hands were balled into fists, and he was trembling in a way that spelt unadulterated rage.

That was when Dream learned that he, Sapnap, and George were indeed still bound together, and that his soulmates had been being tortured alongside him. 

The possibility that Quackity is messing with him crosses his mind. He could be trying to trick him by using his soulmates against him. But how would Quackity even know he had a soulmate? It’s Dream’s most closely guarded secret. Even Punz doesn’t know. Dream has no choice but to believe him.

After Quackity leaves, Dream doesn’t move from where he had fallen to the ground, slumping against the wall behind him. Food is dropped to him at some point, but he doesn’t move to get it. He doesn’t know how many hours he passes like that, he just knows moving is impossible. It means proceeding after what he’s learned. It means acknowledging that his soulmates have been hurting just as much as he has been. It means accepting that he foolishly believed they were safe. 

A few times, Dream had resented his soulmates. When Quackity would be especially intense some days, or Dream was led to the brink of death only to be forcefully given healing potions to go through it all again, he would resent George and Sapnap for not enduring this pain with him. That he was left to feel this alone, and his one and only way of getting people to know what was happening to him had been taken away. If they were still soul bonded, Sapnap and George would know Dream was in danger, and even with the way they left things, Dream knows they would’ve investigated, would’ve saved him from this brand of pain, at least. 

But in the moment, when Quackity is driving his axe into Dream’s skin over and over again, or worse, when he brings out those damn shears, the one consolation Dream had was that at least Sapnap and George were safe. They were being spared. And that thought was all Dream had to cling to in his darkest moments. 

It was a hit worse than any Quackity had given him to realize he had been wrong.

Those false assurances were all Dream had to keep him going, and they had just been taken away from him. His one lifeline had been meaningless the entire time. In the end, he was holding onto nothing.

Eventually, Dream unfreezes, leaving the panic to come crashing in all at once, threatening to pull him under. The feeling is enough to send him shooting to his feet so quickly his head spins, and he has to lean on the wall for support as he re-orients himself. Dream screams for Quackity, for Sam, for anyone. He's never wanted Quackity to come for him before, but he's desperate. He's not quite sure what for, he knows what's going on, Quackity made it very clear what was happening. But part of Dream still needs to hear it again, needs tangible proof, details, closure, something. Anything.

He shouts himself hoarse, calling for help that won't come.

Eventually he gives up, but his helplessness, his knowledge that there's nothing he can do, had been what pushed him to keep yelling beyond hope of a response, and pushes him still. With nothing else to do to occupy his restless self, he begins to pace.

He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault, for being in here. He’s in a powerless position, and that makes him powerless to help Sapnap and George as well. But Dream didn’t ask for Quackity to show up and torture him every day. Hatred, ugly and vile, surges within him, burning its way up his throat. It’s not like Dream didn’t dislike Quackity, it’s more that every other emotion had made way for the fear that now rises in him at the sight of Quackity, greying everything else out. But with the rage comes some of his old fight back, and for once he wishes Quackity was here so he could deck him across the face, maybe knock some more teeth out of him. 

Admittedly, there’s a little bit of relief in learning that his soul bond isn’t broken after all. As soon as Dream has this thought, guilt crashes into him with full force. He pauses, shaking his head vigorously. It doesn’t matter whether he’s happy or disappointed, the soul bond has remained intact and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He paces.

Dream finally manages to eat. He stares at the clock and watches days pass and, for the first time in a long time, he receives no visits, no pain. He’s not sure how to feel about it. He doesn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but everytime his eyes drift shut he’s met with the memory of his screams from Quackity torturing him, only this time, when his voice bounces back to him off of the obsidian walls, it comes back as George or Sapnap shrieking in pain, and he jolts back to full awareness.

He stops his vigilant watch of the clock. He doesn't think anyone is coming for him anymore, for better or for worse. He's been left here, and he wishes he could rot away but there's no earth beneath him to sink into, and despite everything, he still has a job to do. His goals are a reminder of why he's even here in the first place, waiting out the end. 

Until one day, he’s startled by the sight of the lava lowering, with no idea how much time had passed since it was lowered last. He immediately looks towards the clock, but it's still midday. Quackity is once again breaking routine. 

Scrambling to his feet from where he had been slouched on the floor, he stands uncertainly in the middle of the room. He's torn between wanting to run up to the parting wall of lava and shout for Quackity to tell him what's going on, and wanting to back away as far as possible, remembering the rage in Quackity’s eyes when he saw him last, and the words that had cut him open and left him bleeding without the need for Quackity to raise his axe. 

But when the last of the lava blocking his view of the other side of the cavern falls away, it's not Quackity standing on the other side. It's a figure Dream hasn't seen in months, but no amount of time could erase the bone deep recognition that strikes him.

Sapnap. 

Dream remembers the one time Sapnap visited him. Sapnap had told him they weren't soulmates anymore, and it would have hurt less if Sapnap had simply punched him. It seemed as if everything he was sure of about the world and about himself was brought into question all over again. The exchange had ended with mutual promises to kill one another upon their next meeting.

Now Sapnap has returned, something Dream never expected him to do, and despite the overwhelming relief at laying eyes on him, Dream is frozen where he stands. He can’t bring himself to do anything but watch Sapnap move with the bridge across the lava, inching closer and closer to Dream. 

Dream doesn’t know what to do because he doesn't know what to expect. He’s not sure why Sapnap has decided to visit him or if he can trust him. He knows Sapnap and Quackity have talked recently, as Quackity told him, so he can’t be certain Sapnap isn’t here on his behalf or hasn’t been influenced by him in some way. He ends up just staring as Sapnap approaches. Sapnap returns his gaze, but gives no indication of what his purpose for being here is. Dream is still not used to being unable to read him.

The bridge drops Sapnap off and then retreats, the barrier going with it. The lava settles back into place, and then they're alone. Trapped together, for the moment. Until Sapnap wants to be free, at least.

No one moves. Dream isn't even sure he's breathing properly. Finally, Sapnap speaks.

"Dream."

"Sapnap." 

Dream is surprised when his voice doesn’t shake or crack, instead responding in a tone that mirrors Sapnap’s; even, controlled, and devoid of any emotion or inflection that could hint at what was happening in his head.

Silence stretches between them as they both size each other up. It seems neither of them are eager to make the first move. But after the quiet tension has built for many moments, Dream can’t hold in his most pressing question anymore.

“I-”

"Are you safe? Both of you?" Dream cuts in. Sapnap’s eyes widen slightly, his surprise at Dream’s question being the first discernable emotion he’s presented since appearing behind the lava.

"Ye- yeah. We're both safe. Me and George are fine."

Dream exhales slowly, letting his shoulders droop. 

“But you aren’t, Dream.” Dream looks up sharply. “Or you haven’t been, for a while.”

There’s a pause, Sapnap’s words sinking in. “He told you.”

“Yes.”

“You know?”

“I know. I know what you’ve been through. I felt it.” Sapnap’s hand reflexively raises to rest over his heart at the words. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

It’s Sapnap’s acknowledgement of Dream’s suffering that breaks him. Dream falls, but this time, Sapnap is there to catch him, and Dream clings to him so tightly his fingertips ache. He sobs openly while Sapnap cradles him carefully, like something deserving of care, and Dream takes the permission he's been granted to hold onto his former best friend, fracturing to pieces in his arms.

It occurs to Dream that he should feel a degree of embarrassment or alarm over how vulnerable he's being, at the pathetic picture he's making. But it's been long days of nightmares and worry, and even longer days of pain and torment, and Dream is not strong enough to deny the first kind touch laid against his skin in months. Besides, this is Sapnap, who already knows all of Dream's weaknesses. If he wanted to hurt Dream, he could. And nothing Dream does or reveals here in this moment will change that. So he sinks into the safety that is the arms of his soulmate, and allows himself to let go. The fear, the panic, the pain, he releases all of it. 

When Dream's tears taper off and his breath has evened out, he feels Sapnap's chin move from where it's been pressed into his shoulder.

"Can we sit?" Sapnap’s voice comes out raw, as if he'd been the one that just cried for several minutes while being held. Dream nods against him, forcing himself to release Sapnap. Sapnap sits cross legged on the ground, and Dream hesitantly settles across from him, mirroring his position. When Dream looks up, he notices Sapnap is focused on his arm. Glancing down, Dream sees the giant scar running down the length of his left forearm, left there by Quackity’s sword. 

“I remember that one,” Sapnap says quietly. When Dream lifts his arm, offering up his exposed forearm, Sapnap looks to him again for permission before slowly reaching out, giving Dream ample time to pull back or change his mind. But he lets Sapnap support his arm with one hand while he lightly traces the scar with the fingertips of his other. “I couldn’t lift my sword normally for days,” he murmurs. “And I didn’t even have the physical wound, just the memory of it.”

He turns Dream’s arm over, continuing to examine his skin. He runs careful, attentive touches over every nick, scar, and gash, eventually reaching his wrist and then his hand. Some of those marks Sapnap will remember, was there for or even made himself. Those ones have faded with time, leaving them only noticeable under the sun or up close. But a fair amount of them are new, unfamiliar ones, that have resulted from his time in the prison, and even the time before that when he and Sapnap weren’t really speaking.

“It makes so much sense why I recognized some of what I was feeling. You got stabbed in the stomach, right?”

Dream nods.

“And your ribs were broken?”

“Bruised, I think.”

“And the weird…bites? They were like pinches, almost, but more. Like…I dunno, getting scratched hard enough you start bleeding.” Sapnap continues tracing the marks that cover the backs of Dream’s hands as he speaks, struggling to find the right words. Dream tries not to flinch at Sapnap’s description. “I’m assuming that’s what these are. I could never quite place what it felt like. What- what was that?”

“Shears. He-” Dream clears his throat. “Those are from the shears.”

Sapnap stills. "What do you mean ‘shears’? How- you're saying shears did this?"

Dream swallows harshly. He tries to think of how to answer Sapnap, wondering how to broach this memory in a controlled way that won't result in him spilling every detail of his time stuck in here, but he doesn’t know how to start. He wants someone else to know his story, but he also doesn't want to overwhelm himself or Sapnap as he relives some of the most harrowing moments of his life.

"It's ok," Sapnap reassures when Dream doesn't answer after a long few minutes. "You don't have to tell me right now, or ever. Prime, I never would’ve guessed that’s what that was. That’s absolutely fucked."

His words remind Dream of the other elephant in the room. “So you lied to me.”

Sapnap’s face shifts from pained to confused. “What?”

“During your first visit. When you said we weren’t soulmates anymore.”

Sapnap frowns, his hand twitching slightly where it still rests on top of Dream’s. “Yes, and no.” He goes on to explain how he came to believe they were no longer connected, and that he had only told Dream what he believed himself to be true. When Sapnap reaches the part of figuring out he was indeed still Dream’s soulmate, Dream flips his hand over to interlock his fingers with Sapnap’s. When Sapnap reveals that George is the one who isn’t bound to them anymore, he goes from holding Sapnap’s hand to crushing it. Sapnap doesn’t pull away, just clings back equally as hard.

“We still don’t know why his bond broke, but we’re gonna try to figure it out. I’ll keep you updated on what we find.”

Dream scoffs. “What, so we’re friends again? You gonna visit me every week? Write letters to me every day about what you and George are up to?”

Sapnap looks at Dream critically, hearing the genuine question hiding underneath the bait. Dream fights the urge to turn away from him. “I was planning to visit again, if you’d be ok with that.”

“I- yeah. I’d like that,” Dream says quietly.

Sapnap turns his head away, eyes fixing on the clock instead of Dream. "I'm…not ready to be friends again." Dream nods slowly, accepting the disappointment that settles in his chest. "I'm not ready to forgive you for everything yet, but,” he turns back to face Dream again, his expression severe, “you don't deserve this. No one does. And…” Sapnap closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before opening them again to stare directly into Dream's. “I'm glad we're still soulmates.”

Dream isn't sure if he's allowed to answer that, so he simply offers his remaining hand. Sapnap takes it, and Dream squeezes both of their joined hands firmly but gently, hoping he can pass all his guilt, regret, relief, gratitude, and every other jumbled emotion of his into Sapnap’s waiting palms. 

“No one's gonna hurt you anymore, Dream. And if they do, I'll feel it, and I'll come running. That's a promise.”

They hold onto each other, only the sound of their own breathing and the lava popping and bubbling behind them filling the room. Things may still be broken, but they don’t have to fix it alone. They can work together to heal, to be better, facing the future side by side, the memory of shared wounds between them.