lunarescent

He looks absolutely astonished at your response. Although, he quickly recovers. His posture straightens up and he clasps his hands behind his back in a.... very offical manner. He might be involved with some higher ranking demons, you think.

"Very well. How can I serve you, Summoner?"

I mean, not that you can blame him. If you were summoned out of nowhere and there was nobody except for a scrawny looking kid that looked like they just got sent back into 100 buildings, you'd be just as shocked as he were. You're just surprised at all for being able to summon anything.

Even just a renegade.

Agh. Now you have to actually get up. But still! How good is that? You summoned an actual, real life demon. You laugh offhandedly and finally stop living on your lower arms, slowly raising from the floor. This time not rushing! Because we definitely don't want to almost pass out again! Because that would be bad, wouldn't it?

Even then, you still feel the golden skeletons eyes on you as you recover from your little accident. Seems like you haven't failed your entire bloodline after all.

"I can't believe it," you breathe out, barely managing to stand on your two feet. You waver as you stand, arms outstretched beyond to balance yourself. As to further prove your surprise, you place your hands atop of your head. He looks at you curiously, head tilting. "I actually summoned a renegade."

For a moment, his eyes widen— then they close. Politely, he smiles at you and opens his eyes once again.

Your entire mood was trampled when he uttered the words to you:

"I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaken... I'm not a renegade demon."

.

.

...wha???

You gawk wordlessly at him. He's? not?? a renegade??? Then what the heck is he and how is he standing here???? WHY is he standing here?????

He watches you nervously, eyebrows furrowing at your continued silence.

"....What the hell did I summon then??"

He gazes at you rather curiously, how can someone not know what they summoned?

"Summoner, I am a Demon King. And I am at your service for whichever you implore of me.", he says as his head subtly bows down. A curtsy sign of respect.

"..come again?"

"I am a Demon King."

You looked crazed.

"Just one more time", you say, almost in disbelief.

"...I am a Demon Ki—"

"WHAT???"

He flinches. You don't even notice the look of sheer exasperation he's giving you as you're too busy panicking. He observes as you wander around aimlessly, hands on head. You're undeniably stressed, that much he can tell. Especially from the way you're mumbling to yourself as you pace around, heck, you're practically radiating sheer hysteria.

He truly gets to get a good look at you despite your panic that he sees that from your lacklustre eyes were very... lifeless. Like all the vitality had been sucked out of you. If he had to guess, your SOUL would prove to be the same— if not similar. That would certainly explain the dullness of your very character. For your SOUL and spirit alike to be so diminished, you'd have to have gone through a life changing experience. The very thought of it makes his SOUL ache. You're so young, and yet, it looks like you've barely gotten to experience life at all. He also notices that you look sickly. Your general aura emits ailment, the eye-bags, the paleness of your skin, the constant shaking and the way you can't properly control your magic? He truly won't know until he gets a look at your soul.

He doesn't stop examining your features until the action of you picking up the book and worriedly skimming through it snaps him out of his thoughts. You're still panicking.

Ah. Maybe this was his fault... no wonder you're so worried, you couldn't even tell you summoned him at first. The least he could do is try to soothe your mind.

Meanwhile, your mind is racing with thoughts that could put an elderly man into a coma. Holy crap. You're screwed, you're so screwed, no wonder you got sent back to Friday??? Your magic inevitably shit itself and look what happened! You summoned the ONE thing the book told you to NEVER summon! Occasionally, the skeleton hears you mumble to yourself as you read over the book he'd seen you with the first time he saw you. Not only that, but he sees you grasp at your chest, like whatever was going on was hurting you internally.

It's when you notice something is off that you start feeling so.... calm. Like it came out of nowhere that you become suspicious. Theres no way you can just calm down like that. Especially not like this. As in you feel safe, and your shoulders droop. You're speechless. You feel so... Comfortable? You blink. Once. Twice. Your mind isn't racing with thoughts about how bad you messed up anymore. It wasn't until that you finally snapped out of it when the demon king talked to you.

"If you are in need of a moment, I am willing to wait however long for you to take a breather, Summoner." He gently politely speaks, "Or if you wish to return to the ritual, then I will respect your wishes. Whichever decision you come to." He adds. Oh. He must be tired of standing there for so long. You were so occupied with worrying that you completely forgot about his presence... agh. All the more reasons he's going to kill you. If you know one thing about Demon Kings, you know that they're not exactly.... benevolent.

You shake your head, thinking over your next set of actions. Summon the demon.. confirm identity— ah. You haven't even asked its name... the realisation of that settles a deep sensation of guilt in your chest. A frown forms on his face. As soon as you notice the gloomy expression he's wearing, you stutter over your words and try coming up with a semblance of awkward apologies.

Your voice cracks. You cringe and refuse to give eye contact at that mess up. How many of those was that today? You don't know but you're pretty sure you lost count. "Uuh.. Let's— let's continue. I'm sorry." The same feeling of comfort washes over you again randomly. And it's like you didn't have anything to worry about to begin with. He offers you a short smile, nodding curtly. "That's quite okay." It's so strange. How comfortable you feel around this Demon King. You don't know how or why you feel this way, but it's reassuring.

You turn your attention back to the ritual and clear your throat, walking towards him.

"State your identity."

"I am Dream, Guardian of Positivity. To fix your earlier confusion, I will reinstate again that I am a Demon King and I am yours to beckon if you so wish." Once again, he bows with a hand behind his back and one folded neatly at his chest— like he'd done this numerous times before. Like this was rehearsed over and over again.

"You summoned me in hopes for a renegade demon, correct?"

"Uh- Yes, that's correct." Stop that. Stop stumbling over your words. You may be a social reject and stayed inside for months but that does not make you incapable of basic communication. Buck up, buttercup. He nods along. Then, he looks at you curiously. Somewhere in his expression is a hint of concern.

"May I ask why I was summoned? And that my Summoner so happens to be..." Your eyebrow raises? "...Very young." Oh. So THATS what this is about. You giggle at that last question.

"You're amused." He points out.

"Talking about a random 14 year old somehow managing to summon a Demon King, yeah, I'm amused." You glance down at the summoning book in your hands. When you look back up, he's gazing at you with an unreasonable expression.

"...If you think about it, it's kind of funny." Unfortunately, he doesn't find this as hilarious as you do. That's quite obvious from the way he quickly changes the subject.

"You're very young to be performing magic, let alone summoning demons. Why did you attempt at summoning one?" Okay. Now that one's trickier. He catches onto the way you quickly break eye contact.

"Ah.... That one's harder to explain." You nervously mutter. He sighs, and offers you the gentlest smile he can possibly give.

"That's okay, little one. I will not judge you whatsoever." Dream sends off with a kind smile.

It's so strange.

Him being so polite to you. A demon king against a child. Everything you've known about a demon completely crumbles under the influence that this demon himself seems to have. Everything stereotyped in the books of demons, every single one that you've read, down to the last detail that all demons are cruel and heartless creatures,

is squished like a bug under Dreams foot.

He could be tricking you. No, he IS tricking you. The number one rule of summoning a demon is to never trust them. He could be buttering you up, gaining your trust under false pretences so that he could end your life sooner than planned. I mean, it's not like you had much left of a life to live, and that thought seemed to display on your face. Dream cocks his head to the side in innocent curiosity. He can feel your distrust towards him.

"Summoner?" He calls out to you. You must have been quiet for a few seconds.

"Okay... Look. I don't have a ton of plans for you to do.. I just have a bit of a special request."

Dream looks at you with mild curiosity, almost eagerly awaiting your answer. He'd like to know what he is doing here, after all. It seems so interesting to him that the complexities of a humans abilities to summon the highest ranking demons far surpass his expectations; considering he'd believed that only a human blessed with intelligence of a spiritual ability to summon his species could possibly also apply to a sickly 14 year old.

Dream would absolutely like to know why he was even summoned for this humans short life.

"I need some protection..."

..Huh! Okay, definitely not what he had in mind.

Wait. Protection from what??

"Summoner, are you in danger??"

Your eyes that had been staring blankly down at your hands— which were fidgeting rather anxiously— quickly dart to his face, which had been completely encased with worry and concern.

"What?? No!! Well— I mean, yes. But my life isn't in danger!!", is what you nervously blabber out after being asked such a question.

"You are not being hunted down by demons?"

"No, I just need protection from.. Aghh, look. It's hard to explain, but I won't be keeping you around for long. Maybe just for a day or two!! I just need your help with protection."

If the danger isn't demons or anything slightly above your pay grade, what could you possibly need protection from?

And this confusion was already plastered all over Dream's face, his eyes holding a tint of confusion to it.

"Summoner... Why do you need protection?"

...

An embarrassingly long silence fills the air, static screaming louder than the silence barely being spoken.

"..you know... from bullies?", you smile nervously up at him. He only stares at you in response. It was bad the last few times when you couldn't read his expression, but now?

This is just downright horrific. It's bruising your self esteem.

He's just.... staring. Wordlessly. Endlessly. He probably doesn't even know what to say.

And that is assumption is correct, for he is stunned. In all of his millennia of living, not once has he been summoned by an ill looking child seeking protection from... bullies. Okay. Maybe the complexions of a highly intelligent summoner might not apply to that of a 14 year old if they're all summoning Demon Kings to give wedgies to their enemies at school.

You sigh after his prolonged silence.

"Look. I'm not summoning you because I want you to just scare them away. Sorta." His stare at you becomes sharp, agonisingly so. You could almost crumble at the weight of his stare, it's like receiving the asian look from your friend's mother.

"They make my life a living hell. Everywhere I go inside of that place, they follow me, and they antagonise me for it. They've been doing that since..." Since your brother's death. "...Since for as long as I can remember." His almost glaring like stare dies down when he feels the influx of sadness within you and sees the way your attention is torn from him. How your eyes became almost glossy. To him, it's a little too familiar. His gaze turns sympathetic at the torment that your emotions like to torture you with. The way your eyes lost their light with unwanted memories that you'd shoved away into the recesses of the back of your mind a long time ago.

He knows this emotion a little too well. He recognises it, and he hates it. The feeling he knows too well as grief.

"And maybe give them a wedgie."

A mixture of a groan and an exhale, you don't know, but from that noise he emitted alone— you KNOW Dream is exasperated. You meet him with the most shit-eating grin you can muster. So much for a sentimental moment. It's not like he can refuse... you must have blown all of your last resorts to be turning to this, he thinks.

Alright. Fine. Just this once, he'll adhere.

Besides. It's refreshing. Having to scare lives instead of taking them whenever he'd been summoned.

"Very well, Summoner. Whatever your call beckons, I will comply." He dipped his head, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Including the wedgie?" You inquire. He frowns.

"...It was a joke! Jeez!" You huff. "tough crowd." He chuckles at your frustration.

"Okay. Okay, okay..." You quietly console yourself. This is really happening. This is happening and you're not just dreaming. What was the next step? You ponder off into oblivion for a moment, and murmur an "ah." as if it was so obvious. Dream waits patiently in the pentagram, watching the candles flames as they dance across the wick they stand on.

You look at the golden demon king and notice that his attention is elsewhere. Not that you can blame him, in your wholehearted opinion, zoning out into fire is incredibly fun. But still, you need his attention.

"Dream?" He snaps out of oblivion. Now that you've caught his attention, you can continue.

"Are you ready?" You ask. He nods briefly.

Throughout numerous times that you've been to see friends of your family that are also spell-workers, you've had to reveal your SOUL to them a number of times. Often at those times, at the sight of your SOUL,

They were horrified and had to look away.

You can't blame them. The sight of the thing is pretty gnarly, if you do say so yourself. You just hope Dream doesn't do the same thing because then you just won't be able to look at him in the eye. Not once for the probable duration of 2-3 days he'll be here.

You place your hand just outside the barrier of the pentagram as he does the same. You close your eyes, beckoning the call of your SOUL to become physical. Oh boy. Here we go.

His eye sockets widen impossibly, and he steps back just a tad bit. It's annoying, you think. How they do this every time your SOUL appears. It's why you hate these appointments. The look they give you afterwards, like you're some poor thing to be pitied for. Your SOUL, supposed to be pristine and pure, shows a rip in the very centre of it. You think that would be the ONLY thing he'd be shocked at. Haha, you're wrong!

Within the rip escapes black vine-like roots coming out of it. Like the vines are attempting to crawl out and swallow your SOUL whole. The vines themselves shine an iridescent dark green. Dream even swears that they seem a bit... droopy. The ichor of the vines dripping, he thinks. His jaw hangs open, like a fish out of water. The centre of your body, the very core defining your spirit, is.... wrong. Even the colour of your SOUL is dulled. His earlier hypothesis about the lifelessness of your eyes was correct.

He's... never seen anything like this before.

This is the first time he's ever laid his eyes upon something like this.

You hate it. It's the exact look of shock that other people would give you when you had to show them the disease affecting your SOUL. He's looking at you the same way they looked at you with pity, undignified concern and a poor attempt to sympathise with your pain. Pathetic, is the only word you'd use to describe your sorry state of a SOUL. He won't stop staring.

Make him stop staring.

"Are you done?" You snapped frustratingly. His eyesights locks with yours the moment you nastily spoke. You don't care if he is a Demon King and you will reap the consequences for speaking to him in such a manner.

You will not be pitied upon by him, too.

Unfortunately, just like the rest of them, he has the gall to open his mouth and try to offer you the same sad face and sorry excuses of apologies. The book under your hand, just like your rising anger, becomes crinkled and uneven. For though you are the moth drowning in endless waves of water, you will not wait for your last breath to be swindled by the vultures around, dragging you out by the wings in an false effort to make suffering a means to an end quicker than you want to go. In other words, you won't let your pain be taken advantage of, it's unconventional to allow yourself to ravel in front of a being classed higher than the vultures you are used to.

No, he is more of a phoenix.

And yet your hands don't tremble upon his gaze, not because of how embarrassingly it drips with the false pretension of pity, but because you have had enough with the sick sense of underlying condolence. Shame won't be the very thing that eats you whole. You are too used to be swallowed up by the vultures that tear at your fragile being. Shame will not be the thing that you feel at the end of everyday.

You aren't quite sure whether or not this phoenix finds pleasure in preying upon the weak.

But one thing is for sure, you aren't used to the warmth that eminently spreads from its fiery nature. Nor are you used to seeing the concern that falls from his gaze.

It makes you uncomfortable.

You hate their sympathy.

"Let's just get this over with.", is barely hushed under your voice, almost revealing the scared child hiding beneath the false impression you cover up with snark. Unfortunately for you, he sees right through your attempt to be "authoritative".

"Yes... I apologise, deeply. I did not mean to offend you.", is his attempt to hopefully convince you of his regret.

You don't reply. You don't think you can. So, instead, you cover up your fear by placing up a thinly veiled wall of the best possible blankness you can muster. And you nod. Curtly. You refuse to look at his face that you know conveys his remorse. You can feel his golden eye lights on you. It's mildly disturbing.

When you're properly inspecting the summoning book for the next set of instructions, you notice that the page is slightly crumpled. Most likely from earlier when you were getting so distraught at the thought of getting coddled like an impaired toddler. You hastily smooth it over... Pop would have ripped you a new one for even accidentally laying a scratch on these books. It's sacred to him. It is to you, too.

Not to mention, though the summoning book with you holds a great deal of sentimental value to yourself, it means so much more to your Grandfather. Just as you are doing now, he too was performing summoning rituals— taught by his own parents. You remember the way that you were younger, he'd sit you on his lap and tell you stories of your Great-Grandparents that were also amazing mages and spellcasters. It's how he became so great one day and then later on passed that skill down to your parents. He told you that his parents themselves, your Great-Grandparents had made these summoning books. It became family heirlooms once they passed. Into your Pops arms, into your mother's, and now yours.

You also recall the part that they became a little too worn down. So your Pop himself remade it into a sturdier, stronger book. All still with the same rituals and spells. That's why it holds so much meaning to him. And also why he'd turn you into stew if you ever accidentally broke it. He warned you about that when he gave it to you to read for the first time. He was joking, surely?... You hope?.... You shake yourself out of the memory your brain trapped you in. That's right, you still have a binding ritual to do.

You inhale. Here we go.

You chant the words carefully, reading and internally rehearsing the lines off the book. He listens carefully, his eyes moving across the book that lay bare in your hands.

"Dream, Demon King and Guardian of Positivity, your very soul will be bound to mine for you are to solely focus on my safety as it is now your responsibility to keep me out of harms way should anything try to endanger it." Your SOUL happily thrums as it floats in front of your chest. For the first time ever in your life, just as your ancestors have done— you have finally harnessed the energy within your SOUL and channeled your magic to summon a demon, let alone a demon king in this very spot. It feels so natural. The way the words glide off your tongue and you chant the words with ease. Like you were always meant to do it. Never have you ever felt so connected to your parents and bloodline this way— you honestly thought that reading the summoning books in your cubby and grandparents room would be the closest you'd ever get to knowing them like this.

But here you are. You hope that they'd all be proud of you, performing your own first summoning despite the disease that shackles you to it.

"You are prohibited from causing me harm or death for doing so will result in punishment worse than death itself." You allow yourself a well deserved breather after a hot minute. Whooey. this is a hell lot of words. jesus christ, how did your ancestors do this and not pass out??? you think you might understand them less now.

The next set of words make you pause. Is this really fair to him? What you've read of these next lines is that if your death happens and he fails to protect you, just like if he were to cause it a few lines ago, he'd face a death worse than your own. You are going to die anyways. Not due to him or him failing to protect you, but because of your disease. It's already something you've come to long accept. It's inevitable. You won't get better and it will consume you. Your blood won't be on his hands.

So if he doesn't cause it, why should he die, too?

Instead, you chant this.

"If... my death were to happen, you are to be unbound from my SOUL and the rules that come from it and sent home immediately." You don't notice how he freezes up. If he knows anything about these regulations, he knows you weren't supposed to say that. From all the countless times he has been summoned, it has always been the same.

'if i am to die, you will face a death worse for failing to preserve that of which was mine.'

And he for sure knows that this wasn't included in the book, too. You came up with this on the spot instead. Despite your earlier wariness of him, and your tiny spat, you still found it within yourself to save him from dying himself had serious harm come to make its way to you. Even despite then, you had that kindness within yourself even though you are a human and he is a demon. Maybe you really do share the complexities of even the most renowned spell-workers. He doesn't stop the soft smile that graces his features.

"Just as our SOULS are bound, so are our minds— You will hear my thoughts just as I will hear yours." As you're busy chanting, he doesn't miss the way you look so content as you recite the words noted in the book you hold. He can feel it. Such childlike wonder. He chuckles wholeheartedly at it.

"You are to carry out any task and or command that I give you immediately." You gaze down at the summoning book. Grimacing, as your finger trails along a particular line. "unless?..." Your voice wanders off. If you could bend the rules to avoid getting him killed if you died accidentally, maybe you could do it again? it IS your ritual, after all. You are the summoner here. "Unless you are physically incapable of carrying out the commands I give." You hope you won't regret this. You're bending too much for this guy already.

Doing so just might lead you to your early demise.

Much earlier than expected, either way.

When you finally look up from the book that you've been staring at since you've started chanting, is when you also finally see that you notice the small, soft smile that's Dreams giving you.

It's not very often that he has been offered the curtesy of a humans raw kindness.

"You know... From the many times I have been summoned by many that share the same ideals as you, you aren't as predictable as I thought you to be. It's rare to come across generosity you have given me."

From his words alone, you feel a tad bit sheepish. This more or less supposed to be the bare minimum for someone who won't stay longer than a day. Why enforce so many rules onto something that wouldn't be here for anything too mundane?

Oh, but it clicks. There are always loopholes when it comes to a demon, and you're unsure of his true nature when it comes to humans due to their malicious intent to harm their Summoners. Demons have a deep rooted hatred for the ones that put them into that Pentagram in the first place, which is why you are bewildered at this demons desire to spread Positivity rather than the demons who choose to spread harm. You know this since a single page in a Demon Summoning book does not go without a single warning to the Summoner.

'WARNING. A summoned Demon is highly likely to deceive you, endangering your life and those around it. Your Demons job is to protect your life; if given that task.'

Not only that, but the warnings of your parents and Grandparents don't go without saying. You'd listened attentively since it was the safety of your life that they warned you about. If you are to summon a demon, always keep them at arms length. It's how you will keep yourself safe, and alive.

Maybe giving this guy too many chances to end your life already was a terrible idea.

But you know what? It doesn't matter. It's not like you'd be living for long anyway.

"What business would the average 14 year old be doing with a demon, a king no less, that would be considered the opposite of 'generous?' I mean. It's not like you're gonna be here for a while." You look back down to your book. A moment or two of silence, yet again, unsettles you slightly. What is with this guy and being so god damn silent???

You look back up to see his face stretched into a mildly uncomfortable expression. Still harbouring that polite, yet feigned smile on his face. Bone. Whatever it is. Let's just go with face.

"You'd be surprised."

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't they supposed to be playing roblox or something??? Why are kids my age summoning demons??"

"You are the kids your age summoning demons, summoner." It was like a slap to your face. A fair point, but still felt like one either way. AND he just had to refer you as 'Summoner' as a cherry on top.

"Alright. Touché."

He chuckles. Of course he does. He's right, but you won't say that out loud.

Oh, the binding ritual.

.

.

Your mind comes up blank. What were you meant to say next???

Your mouth barely forms coherent words as you skim over the summoning book. Crap. Fuck. Uuuuh.

A skeletal hand points towards the book.

"Line 9. 'To return from whence you came.'"

Oh. Thats right. Damn, skeleton dude really knows his stuff.

"Huh. Thanks."

"You're welcome, little one."

It makes sense. For someone with his status, he'd already have memorised everything a long time ago with all the countless times he'd been summoned.

"When you have completed your duty, you will be released from my SOUL and return to whence you came post haste."

Your hand stretches flat against the barrier. A silent request— an oath of your own. A binding of your imploration. He accepts, and lays his palm flat against yours. All the while he holds a kind smile on his face.

"Your SOUL will be bound to mine until you have accomplished your tasks and been released willingly by my will. As our SOULS our bound, as will our minds—" You place your forehead just before the barrier, your gaze unrelenting towards the golden skeleton in front of you. Dream mirrors your exact action, placing his head just where yours lays. It's a little funny, however. He has to bend down slightly just to be able to reach you. He is really tall. It should be a superpower or something. The way you fought to bite your tongue and avoid laughing at the sight of a skeletal demon king leaning over to reach a teenagers height. Just look at the book and you'll be fine. Look at the book and you won't laugh. just look. look and don't laugh.

You looked at the book. Unbeknownst to you, Dream can feel the overwhelming urge you have not to start cackling out of nowhere. Most likely of the sight of him bending over. How silly of you. He has to give you a tut of his breath and a shake of his head. All the whilst he still held that smile. You only grin at him in response.

You close your eyes. And you know he has, too. As to how you know— you just do.

"Do you accept these terms, Dream?"

"Yes, my summoner."

With the words said, the pentagram glows brighter and brighter and the candles flicker furiously. The moment he agreed is the exact moment the deal sealed your fate. The barrier protecting you falls— and the only thing standing between the both of you was the promise written in the book. Undeniably, you're exhausted. This ritual was already so much strain on your SOUL alone. Any more, and you think it just might explode.

His hand touches yours the second the barrier releases him. It's such a strange feeling. The feeling of bone against hand. Makes you shiver a bit. It also kind of makes you thankful that your brain doesn't care enough to make you process the feeling of your own bone inside your limbs. That would be a sensory nightmare.

["Thats morbid."] You genuinely, actually physically jump. That was like a speaker was directly next to your ear— or actually inside your head. Or something. Whatever it was, it was clear, and crisp, and you did NOT like it. And if theres anything you know, you know you did not willingly conjure that up in your mind. Or maybe you did. You don't know. The human brain is scary. It wasn't even in your voice??? Who the hell does that voice belong to?? Why do you have a narrator in your head now??? DID you actually think that and your brain is just playing tricks on you and your demise is earlier than expected and is actually around the corner?????

A hand waves in front of your face to shake you out of your spiral. When you look at its recipient, he holds a guilty look on his face.

"I was not aware of the possibility of frightening you from the mental link.. I take it from your reaction, this is your first summon?" He words carefully, each and every syllable constructed as to not spook you like as if you were an already spooked animal in a cage.

"...I would not word it like that, but nonetheless, I should have warned you. First words spoken through mental links are always a scare for the first time. I apologise." Right. You forgot about the whole mind thing for a second there. Whoops. The whole time, he's looking at you with a tensed smile.

"It's..." You stare at him. Why does he look so unnerved?

"It's fine." You shake your head, brushing off the stress from your inwards spiral. Theres a dull ache resonating within the deeper parts of your chest. It's bothersome if you put too much mind to it.

You don't really know what to do now.

Now that the ritual is done and dusted and out of the way, you truly have not a lick of what to do next. It's not like you thought about this part because now you have another resident here. In your house. Who will stay for a while until he's done what you've brought him here to do. This isn't very nice host manners. Your mother taught you better than this. Actually your mother can't teach you cause she's dead.

Dream visibly flinches and grimaces.

Maybe you should stop. The lore bombs on this poor guy must not be fun.

"Er.. sor-sorry." You attempt to form more words. "Uh, let's just go upstairs?" This is just sad for you. He can only smile uncomfortably and nod in response. You promptly turn around.

That was pathetic. If Dream heard that, he says nothing about it and follows you up the stairs.

The walk up is awkward. Filled with tension that it could choke the life out of a fully grown man. You don't want to think about that, so you opt for something else instead. Like the leftover lasagna currently sitting in the fridge for dinner! Hurray! How good is that?

...You actually don't like lasagna all that much. Or rather, that specific brand. It tastes like waterlogged cardboard. Still. You might just skip out on dinner tonight, then. Pop won't mind.

Apparently, Dream thought so otherwise.

"You'd starve yourself in distaste for that dish?" He frowns worryingly at you. You can pick up the distinct, almost fleeting words of "humans" and "strange" in your head. They definitely weren't your thoughts.

You can't be blamed here. It tastes like ass.

"Language," he chastises.

"Sorry."

"We can worry about that later, Summoner." Dream gently stops you in your tracks by grappling onto your wrist. Theres most likely a certain expression on your face that is causing his to contort into discomfort. You're sick, that he knows. And you don't seem very willing to talk about that.

He has to be careful about this.

"You're really not going to give your body the nourishment it needs?.."

Theres conflict written all over your face.

You look at his face, and what looks back is pure apprehension looking back at you.

The sight of it is aggravating. Fine. Whatever it takes to stop making him look at you like that.

"Agh! Fine!! I'll have a look." You flail your arms a little. He seems to relent at that, and at the same time release a chuckle. You were very reminiscent of a small child being told to put back the sweets they shoved into their pocket at a grocery store.

"But I'm not promising anything." Dream has to fight back the urge to sigh. You're definitely the persistent type. Maybe it's best for a topic change. Yes, he'd like that.

His eyelights gaze over the house as you pass through it, nothing he's never seen before, but it's a fairly huge home for a small teenager to live in alone.

"This is your abode?"

"Yup. I mean, technically my grandparents."

"Are your grandparents also summoners?"

"Oh yeah. Where'd you think I got this bad boy from?" You flaunt the summoning book to him. It earns you a chuckle.

"And they're not home right now, so you don't have to worry about introductions." Right, because you'd be screwed upon Pops finding out you summoned a Demon King.

"It is a very lovely place." He smiles politely.

You don't know what else to say except for a barely formed thank you. Although persistent in things, he's noticed you are also very awkward in others.

"I stay home a lot. Doesn't really make up for a lot of social interactions."

He nods in understanding, heart swelling for your prolonged absence of companions. For someone your age? It wouldn't have been easy to battle your illness and do it all alone.

"Just let me know if you need anything. Unless it's a helicopter. I can't afford that.", Dream slightly chuckles to your little cheeky remark. He's noticed that you have a very indifferent sense of humour to combat the pain you are constantly met with. His head tilts narrowly to observe your behaviour, and in return, you tilt yours. A little to mock him, a little to also study him as a demonic being; acting very differently in contrast to what you expected to see. Many different kinds of warnings over the years, tellings of death and caution for the event you may ever come to summon a demon for your own safety.

"I may be different to other demons, Summoner, but you can rest assured that no harm will come to you. Not by me, and not by any other being that may have ill intent towards you.", he says warmly. You silently question the sincerity of his words; demons are cunning. But for the moment, he has no reason to truly hurt you in any way or shape. Aside from the fact that demons are extremely resentful to their summoners. You feel the honesty of his words, and a subtle pull from your soul that rest behind your ribcage.

"...Okay, I believe you. But no funny business. Understand?"

His eyelights flicker with contentment. "Yes, I understand, Little Tinea."

A momentary silence, one not filled with an air of pressure, but rather with contemplation.

["Tinea..?"], you question.

Dream slightly steps closer, his presence nowhere near overbearing. More like a presence that you feel fills the silence comfortably.

["Yes, my observations of you made me come to the conclusion that you have a similar sense of self preservation. Just like a little moth, you appear to me as... Gentle, but very ruminative. You hold the samenesses of the moon; you shine a light upon yourself, and the things you hold dear. Very few are faint to finally know you, and the things you would want to share willingly. You, Little Tinea, carry yourself with a sense of passion for discovery."]

He isn't even aware of it, but the boldness of his words shatter your being.

Okay, well, he is now. The shock on your jaw agape face is more than enough to tell him what he said. Essentially a reversed slap to the face. The guilt plastered on his being is more than enough to convey the words that lay dormant on his tongue.

"Forgive me— I apologise!! If I said the wrong thing—" He waves his hands frantically, silenced only when you hold one of yours up.

"No, no. Just. it's been a long night. I'm not exactly ready to kinda hear those words, you know?" Your hand drops back down to your side.

that, and the fact that nobody has had anything remotely kind to say about you. Neither directed to your face or back.

"Y-Yes. I apologise if I've crossed the line." He clasps his hands together. Theres no word to explain how you feel, but the wording "hit by a bus" fits perfectly. But replace the horsepower of a bus with a train instead.

"It's fine. I think." You mumble the last bit to yourself. Just sweep it under the rug and you'll be fine. Probably. Let's find out when you go to sleep tonight with or without the existential dread. The whole time as you've continued walking in complete silence after being pulled apart for everything you are, the Demon King behind you wallows in embarrassment and mortification. You thankfully didn't seem to appear viscerally, but it was still a whoopsie daisy.

That'll be over with in maybe two days time. Let bygones be bygones, or something. And then the conscious of being exposed won't live on in your mind after that!

All is silent. You really don't know what else to say after that, and you just have a nagging feeling in the back of your head that Dream doesn't either.

For the moment, you both walk in silence.

That is, until Dream breaks the silence.

["Do you have any books, Summoner?"] He asks. God, you'll never get used to another voice in your head that isn't your own, but nonetheless, it peaks your interest.

["What kind of books?"] You look back at him. He doesn't mean the summoning books, does he?

To your relief, he shakes his head. You don't like the idea of a Demon King holding access to your Grandparents summoning books unless absolutely necessary. He once again shakes his head politely.

["That is not the case. I like to read in my spare time, theres just something about settling down in a quiet spot and reading a good book."]

Ah. Then, in contemplation, you ponder which book could hold enough significance to cater towards his unknown preference of reading material.

["For reference, I do like to read books of knowledge, some may be dictionaries or Encyclopaedias Of Science or even Animals. Many do peak my interest of your mortal world, and it is fascinating to see which to the cycle of how it works! But, anything works, really."]

Ooohhh. he's that typa guy.

["What is that supposed to mean, Summoner...?"]

["Don't worry about it. So I might have a few of those kinds of books lying around somewhere, but I don't know the kind of condition they're in, so if it isn't up to general standards then you might have to pick a book from my own little selection."]

His face grows curious in an excited manner; he appears to like learning about you. — ["What books do you like to read, Summoner?"]

["Horror and comedy."]

Silence fills the room. Well, there was always silence in the room, there just seems to be silence between the two of you.

["...I might have a few sci-fi books around."]

Dream's hands happily clasp together in mild appreciation.

["Wonderful! If I may, then I will take a look at them."]

"Whatever tickles your pickle man."

He sighs.

"Please do not say that."

"Tickling the pickling?"

"Summoner."

---------------------------------------------

For a minute, you hope that the world has gone quiet enough for you to be able to quietly recede into confined corners of solitude, retreating back into the space you hoped to have been able to breathe without fear or anticipation of an unprecedented attack; you had a Demon King with you, and you really don't know why.

Earlier fluctuations of power now lay dormant, almost as if there were no sign that your SOUL could bring out the strongest of the strongest. As if there had been no trace of evidence. Your illness prevented you from using basic human skills to light small fires with your magic. Small feats are more than enough to exhaust you of all your energy that you so graciously try to save to get through the day.

So, as soon as your head hits your pillow, you release a muffled sigh of exhaustion and fatigue. Today was too much on your already feeble body, taking all energy you could muster. Summoning a Demon sure was more than enough to deplete any ordinary mortal being of any strength, but god, you feel like you just got hit by a moving truck and then some.

And you really thought that would be the end of it, but noooo. ahaha. No rest for your weary mind, for the demon by your side sticks out like a sore thumb.

"I apologise if my presence causes you fatigue...?" he very nervously says.

You sigh under your breath, and turn your head with all of the strength you can possibly hold together. Talking feels too much of an effort right now. Your illness tugs uncomfortably at the surface of your SOUL.

"Ah... Then there is no need to talk, my Summoner. I understand." he offers a smile, a gently gleeful expression is all you need to accept that you can just turn in for the night. Lesser problems of the world buzz in the back of your head, proving no such situation will happen with him around. You won't question the uncomfortably obvious fact that he will stay around to watch you sleep.

Yes. That's it. You will let the background noise fade into nothingness, as you will for yourself eventually. You will fade into benevolent silence as your life nears its shortened completion. But, for now, you hope fate will be kind enough to let you sleep comfortably.

...You hope that maybe your brother will visit in your dreams.

CHAPTER 3 UAYYY !!!! see i know i said it would take a while for chapter 3 to release and left you guys hanging for hhhmmmmm..... 6... months.. OH AND THIS FIC HAS ITS OWN TAG NOW!!!! YIPPEE!!!

You fail to remember the last time the environment around has been so quiet. Getting used to the bustling habitat of each region you traveled to, accompanying Gingerbrave, came as easy.

Now, left without the lively setting, everything feels astray. It feels otherworldly, even. But the worst part of it all is the stranger Pure Vanilla Cookie has morphed into.

Change can be a good thing, and you kept an open mind to those who reverted to different opinions. Yet this? No, this entire situation regarding your dearest is a case you cannot bring yourself to accept.

You never thought you would see Pure Vanilla Cookie's eyes modify themselves into such a dull state. The sparkle that was average to spot in his eyes seemed to fizzle out, but you swear you see the flicker of one when his stare lies onto you.

At the current moment, you stand before him as he sits on the edge of the bed in his gifted headquarters, residing inside of the unnerving tower.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie! You have to snap out of it. Our friends are in danger, we have to rescue them!" You try your earnest to get through to him, but all you receive is his eyes piercing into your own.

All of the warmth that used to trail after Pure Vanilla Cookie seems to have left. Uselessness strikes your dough, and motivation is not given from your emotionless lover. What else is there to do to convince him?

Pacing around the room, you attempt to think of another way to persuade Pure Vanilla Cookie back into his common traits.

You are unaware of why you were to be left at his side, now thinking about it. Shadow Milk Cookie did not afflict you with the same treatment he gave the others. As of right now, you've been permitted to stay beside Truthless Recluse for an unknown reason.

Expressing gratitude for your handling differing from your allies comes as hard. The fact that they can easily crumble from a tearing of the feeble cards they've been transformed into does not come as heartwarming.

Now, you put yourself before the silent cookie. You would hate to guilt trip your partner, you truly would—but it seems to be your last option.

"What if it were me? Would you turn me away, too? Leave me to be stuck as a tarot card?" You give your best to sound disheartened.

Truthless Recluse narrows his eyes at you, the grip he holds around his staff tightening. That counts as a reaction, much to your favor. Though would it do much in the long run?

He fails to see reason in why his heart feels heavy. Oh, but it is not with remorse. The gloomy cookie feels angered. How dare you suggest such an event could ever happen? He refuses to allow you to be turned into a small card, put inside of a bag and shrouded in complete darkness.

Yet he allows the misery to fall upon his other companions. Why must you be a discrepancy? He should've pushed you away long ago, yet he decided to complete the exact opposite.

Truthless Recluse feels ridiculous, causing to add onto his frustrations.

He stands up, towering over you with his absurd height. Pure Vanilla Cookie is one to be feared with his current body language, but you still stand in your place.

"You will not," he asserted, like a king to his pawns. Pure Vanilla's frown appears more prominent. You did not expect your short speech to cause such a reaction, coming off as wordless for a few seconds into your staring contest with him.

Then, you feel upset yourself. His single words, the few ones he's ever spoken to you, are hard to digest. Truthless Recluse can say that, but not hold to that same promise for your comrades?

Your hands clench into fist, standing with your chest puffed before the intimidating cookie.

"I don’t understand you. I never thought I would say this, but you are becoming insufferable!" Part of him feels hurt by that, and again, he falls short in knowing why.

"If you are so resistant to helping, then I will do it myself. You can stay here for as long as you'd like. I’m leaving." With that said and done, you turn on your heel, walking towards the exit of the room that you grow sick of.

But then, your feet prevent you from progressing. In fact, you do not seem to be touching the ground any longer, lifted a few feet above ground. Your hands remain fixed at your side, entirely incapable of moving.

That being said, you are unable to avert your stare towards the obvious culprit. Though there seemed to be no reason to worry, as the said perpetrator of your rigidness whirls you around to face him.

You were about to give him a mouthful, but Truthless Recluse reaches words before you have the chance.

"Stay."

"What?"

"You are not going anywhere."

"Pure Vanilla Cookie, release me," you shout, yet, as anticipated, his lips are shut thin. You become weary of his orders. He declines to hear you out, so why would you give ear to him?

But you soon realize, there is not much of a choice for you here. The look in his eyes signal that, and the fact that the strength difference between the both of you is quite measurable.

With the power of his staff, Truthless Recluse hovers you over his given bed, plopping you down onto the cushioning afterwards.

Quick to straighten yourself up, you look in his direction. There is irritance noticed in your stare, though it is miniscule. It goes difficult to stay mad at him, because at the end of the day, he remains your husband. Even within this form he takes.

Truthless Recluse takes a seat right next to you, your legs pressing together. Despite the harsh tone his talk is spoken with, there's little to no hesitation in his decision to be near you. Perhaps Pure Vanilla Cookie is not as far away as you would believe, judging off of that noticeable trait.

"So you disapprove of helping out our friends, but you also disapprove of me rescuing them?" You question, because you want him to know the absurdity of his own actions. Nothing appears to add up.

"Just say you want me here. That deep down inside, you still love me," you taunt him, more so to get back at him for his pettiness. Guilt tripping and persuasion are clear to have no affect on him. Taunting is not guaranteed to work either, but you can give it a shot.

Unbeknownst to you, your little tease did gain a reaction from the apathetic cookie.

Truthless Recluse dislikes the emotions that you, and you alone, are able to make him feel. Your simple words send him into strange mindsets, ones that he believed he would abandon after becoming a deceiver.

Liars are not known to have such close relationships, so he came prepared to dump his old friends. But you? Ditching you is easier said than done.

Maybe he can come to face the truth he has avoided. The reality is, you are no mere friend. Your title to him is far greater than that, which is why he is reluctant to allow your departure. Back then, he was more proud to call you his lover. Even though now, he would concede it, you are still his beloved. He loves you, and he hates that.

Why must you make his conversion so difficult?

It is as if Pure Vanilla Cookie reset. Again, he keeps as quiet, like prior, to any words you say.

But, you took note of his dramatic response to your attempt to flee. In this case, may it be that your actions cause more feedback than your conversation? There's one way to find out.

Scooting even closer to him, you gaze into his eyes. What a beautiful man he is, even with his drastic transformation.

Lowering your palm, you place it atop his own. You begin to hold his hand, a heartfelt gesture that was common between you pair, but will he return it this time around?

To your shock, and his own, he does. A sweet man can never truly be erased, it seems. That sprouts a smile on your face. But, why end it at holding hands? What else can grow to make him act out?

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his cheek. He appears as unmoving now, but with how short the distance is, you can see the twitch in his face.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie," you whisper. "I love you."

He is no longer Pure Vanilla Cookie, he mentally asserts. Your love is in vain, as the cookie you once knew is shoved deep down and far removed.

Nevertheless, he accepts your affection all the same. That aspect is the most bothersome for him. He ought to silence you with your foolish declarations, but he falters in doing so.

Gaining his attention yet again, your face shifts to be placed right in front of his own. Truthless Recluse finds his mind to wander to how attractive you are, but he soon cuts those thoughts short for himself. He no longer believes in such facts, he would say.

Though if he deems himself a liar, that might be a lie.

"Truthless Recluse," you spoke in a gentle tone. "I love you."

Oh. That surprises him. He reckoned you would never utter his new label, but you have, which indicates you are directly addressing him, and he's lost on how to process it. All he can comprehend is the warmth radiating in his dough, as if he's back in the oven in which he was baked.

As your prior statement of admiration came with a complimentary kiss, the next remark shall have the same acclamantory.

You angle yourself closer, your lips coming into contact with Truthless Recluse's cold ones, meeting in a delicate kiss. As frigid as he is, you will be glad to share your heat to him.

Just as happy as he is to embrace it. Truthless Recluse finds himself returning your affection, leaning in to push your mouths closer. His eyes closed, he rediscovers how enjoyable affection can be.

His grip on his staff almost slips from how weakly he holds it. Truthless Recluse finds that possessing you in his arms is far more preferable, yet he refrains, as you already pulled away, much to his disappointment.

With a satisfied sigh, you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I don’t think we should keep the others waiting," you spoke amidst the silence. "Perhaps we should go check up on them?" You wonder if your mounds of endearment caused to change his point of view. If not, then luck has long left you.

Witches, now Truthless Recluse is sure he has been tricked yet again. How can he let you get away with your foolery so easily? You are such an infuriating cookie, and he despises that his feeble heart wants more of that. He would tear it out if he could.

Though he comes to terms with it quite quickly. That is just your personality, and well, Shadow Milk Cookie does plenty for his own indulgences. Would it hurt for him to take a cookie in for his own appeasement?

"No," he concedes. You have a dumfounded expression. This cookie proved to be tough to crack, and that tends to be a good factor. But now, it shrivels in appearing as a perk.

"...Huh?"

"You, too, shall reside in this tower. Alongside me." He has got to be joking. Although he carries the title of a liar, even you can tell there is no deception in his tone.

"I'll... I'll give you another kiss if you grant my farewell?" Truthfully, that came to wilt his spirit. In spite of that, his silence as a response shows he has abstained.

Your husband developing a possessive trait catches you off guard. There's a chance those few kisses became disastrous in the end, as you see his eyes linger onto your lips rather than your own stare.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

·˖✮ ✮‧˖