#blazewrites

Dream rolls his eyes, reaching up to fix his glasses. "I haven't read anything."

"You haven't secretly been readin' behind my back?" He asks amused, and when Dream just sends him an annoyed look, explains, "We're starting a new book this week."

Running a hand through his short choppy hair, Dream frowns. "I don't know. Maybe next time."

Techno tries not to let his heart sink. "Well, actually I should rephrase. You are coming with me to book club." He bites back a smile when Dream sputters at him. "We're leaving in 10 minutes, so you better put your shoes on."

"Haha." Dream deadpans, slowly wheeling himself to their bedroom like he's not sure if Techno is serious.

He grabs a blanket off the couch, a heavy fleece one, and drops a few snacks into his bag. His coat is hanging on the back of the door, so he works his arms through it and waits for Dream. A few minutes pass before his friend comes back to the living room. He tries to be subtle when he checks to see if he's wearing his compression socks, but Dream catches him anyway.

"Yes, mom. I have my compression socks on and my insulated slippers. Are you going to check that I don't have my shirt on backwards too?" He rolls over to the door, grabbing his sweater from off the lowered hook and shooting Techno a half-hearted glare. He sucks in a breath before shoving his head through the collar, letting it out once it settles loosely around his neck. He wiggles his arms into the fabric, biting his lip when his left arm gets stuck.

Techno doesn't hide the fact that he's watch, but he doesn't make any moves to help. Dream keeps his eyes on the floor until both his arms are through the sleeves. His arms shake with the effort, but Techno waits at his side until he says, "Are we going yet? Since you're forcing me to go, it's only fair that you push me."

He holds back a smile until he's fully behind Dream, his hands wrapping around the handles of his wheelchair. "I guess, if it's only fair." He pushes them down the hallway, steps into the elevator, and swipes his keycard. The elevator jolts as it takes them to the ground floor, the doors opening with a slight screech when they get to the bottom.

The cool damp air of mid-autumn nips at them when they get outside. Techno drops the folded blanket on Dream's lap before they go further. It stays folded, but Dream tucks his hands into it so he doesn't say anything. It doesn't take long to get to the library, but his fingers twinge from the cold.

Dream reaches out to press the automatic door button, quickly tucking his hand back into the warmth of the blanket. The library is cozily warm, and the back room is a few degrees warmer. A quick glance around reveals they're the last to arrive, but he'd texted the group chat already to let them know.

The closer to the table they get, the more Dream shrinks in on himself. Techno doesn't draw attention to it, but he taps his chilly fingers on the back of Dream's neck as he greets his clubmates. "Hello," he drawls, moving a chair out of the way and maneuvering Dream's wheelchair there instead.

He pulls Dream back a little bit, enough that he can spin around if he needed. And scoots his own chair forward, so he can block Dream from view if he needs him to. He takes his time rooting through his bag, quietly pleased that the club members continue their conversations until they're ready. Dream doesn't lock his wheels, so Techno tucks his foot behind one of them, just in case.

When Dream has the blanket unfolded and covering his lap, Techno plops his book on the table and clicks his teeth. "Thank you for waitin' for us. I was convincing my friend that this wasn't some kind of secret anarchist syndicate, but for some reason he didn't believe me. Isn't that right, Dream?"

His friend cows under the attention, picking at the pilling fleece on the blanket. Techno glances over to his clubmates, right as Niki giggles. "I don't blame you. Techno basically twisted my arm to get me to join. Blink twice if he forced you to be here."

Dream lifts his head a little and blinks twice deliberately. Techno tosses his hand over his eyes, "Nonsense. Dream's here of his own free will. I'd never make him do anything he didn't want to." The rest of the table cracks a smile and he sends them a grateful look before removing his hand from Dream's face.

For the first few minutes, they talk about everything and nothing, just catching up over the past week. Then Niki passes out the new books while Puffy collects the old ones. She hands everyone the thin hardback, handing Dream his with the same gesture as everyone else.

The confusion is clear on his face as he pulls the front cover back and flips through the pages. "A cookbook?" He asks, voice rasping. He twists around and grabs his water bottle from behind him.

Niki nods, "Yeah! I thought it could be fun if we all read through each recipe and tried one we liked. Then next week we can discuss what we all made." She glances around to the other members, "If that's okay with all of you."

There's head nodding around the table, and the gentle crack of fresh book spines as they open. Techno adjusts his reading glasses and flips through the first couple recipes. The book is mostly vegan recipes and he can tell a lot of them are noted with a couple substitutions. He peeks at Dream through the corner of his eyes.

His friend is taking in each page carefully, trailing his fingers over the cooking instructions. Techno watches him frown, then move on to the next page. A few people are already discussing which ones they'd like to make, and he makes an effort to remember which ones. If he doesn't write it down, he'll forget, but his pen and paper stay in his bag.

Beside him, Dream is getting frustrated. Techno can tell by the way his foot wiggles on the footrest and his fingers curl around the corners of the book. He yawns loudly and makes a show of pushing his glasses back up. It catches Dream's attention, pulling him out of his spiral enough he closes the book and rests it on the table.

Dream's sweater is bunched up around his back and a tuft of hair stick out straight on the top of his head. Techno aches to reach out and fix them for him, but he keeps his hands on the table. He yawns again, a real one this time, and smirks as Dream catches it. The conversation around the table starts to peter out, until Niki calls the meeting to an end and people start to leave.

They wait a moment for everyone else to clear out, then Techno stands with a grunt. Dream snorts, "What are you an 85 year old man?"

Techno won't admit it, but he loves the little moments of sass that breathe through Dream's angst. "It's past this old man's bedtime." He says, tucking his and Dream's book into his bag and taking his position behind Dream.

The elevator is even more rickety as they go up, doors rattling as they open. Techno flicks on the lights as they step into their apartment, reaching down to tug his shoes off as he steps inside. Dream reaches down and locks his wheels, standing shakily and walking over to the couch.

He flops down on his back, his legs dangling off the side. He holds his hands out in front of him, flexing his fingers as much as he can. They uncurl from their fists, but the effort makes his whole arm tremble and he quickly drops them to his chest. Techno stands at his side, grabbing one of his wrists and helping him through his therapy exercises.

As he stretches his wrist, Dream hisses. Techno eases, gently rubbing his thumb over the scarred skin of his arm. Dream tugs his hand out of Techno's grasp. "Ugh," he groans, "I won't be able to make any of the recipes because they all call for chopped vegetables."

Techno bites his lip to stop himself from saying 'If you just ask, I'll help you.' He knows that not what Dream wants. He's trying to figure out what to say, when Dream's hands fly up to cover his face. Behind his hands a quiet broken sob bubbles past his lips.

Dropping to his knee, Techno wraps his hand around Dream's wrists. "You don't have to—"

Dream's watery green eyes are piercing as he interjects, "I want to."

Techno softly tugs the frail wrists away from Dream's face. He leans in, collecting a stray tear that leaks from the corner of Dream's eye. "Alright, nerd. We'll figure out how to get your homework done by next week."

The teasing is enough to ease Dream's shaky breathing and have him pushing at Techno's chest. Techno lets him, internally pleased when Dream keeps his hands there. They're cool and he places his own on top to warm them. Dream's eyes slip shut and he whispers a pained, "I'm tired."

I know, he wants to say. He wants to reassure him of the improvements he's already made. He wants to reach deep inside him and take his pain away. Instead, he runs his fingers through Dream's hair and says, "Then let's go to bed, nerd."

He lifts Dream easily, a familiar routine that neither of them are brave enough to talk about. He sets Dream on his bed, carefully removing his shoes and peeling off his compression socks. Dream's sweater and shirt are next, replaced quickly by one of Techno's well worn sleep shirts. Dream's eyes are drooping as Techno tucks him into bed, fluffing the pillow behind his head and flattening the blankets around his legs.

He walks back out to the entranceway, wheeling Dream's wheelchair back to the bedroom and parking it at the side of the bed. Then he changes into his own pajamas and carefully sinks into the mattress next to Dream.

Dream's curled fingers find his hand, wrapping around his pinky. "Night, Tech."

There was a yesterday - you are pretty sure. There's a hoodie hanging off the railing of your porch. An unfinished plate on your kitchen table makes you queasy. 

Something tells you you shouldn't eat it.

Old blood has dried on the soaked soil out back. It's probably yours.

You climb the creaky stairs leading up to the attic. There's a hole in your roof. You're pretty sure it's because you never got to finish working on it, though doubt still trails cold fingers down your spine.

You don't care. You're tired.

You lie face-flat on your mattress and just breathe. It reeks of old sweat.

Rolling onto your back, you expect to find something there. There's nothing, though shadows of the dimly lit room cling onto its corners like ghasts. You blink. You don't like blinking.

There was a yesterday, you can now say for certain, though your internal clock says otherwise and the crooked calendar on your wall stays unmarked. You tell yourself you’ll get to that later.

You won't.

It's morning. Or at least, that's what you think you got a glimpse of, before it all flashes to darkness again. You peer out of the opposite window, looking for the young moon, hoping to confirm your suspicions. You find nothing.

Sleep is already luring you in. A couple of minutes, you say.

It takes everything you have not to return to slumber. The noises outside beckon and roar, encouraging you to. You know better.

You don't look behind you once you step outside. Your stride is brisk, as you set out for the distant barn lights. How long has it been since you last fed your pigs? Has any time passed at all?

You leave the remaining carrots in a sturdy, dry barrel. As you whip around to leave, one pair of eyes is still leering at you from the animal pen. You don't notice.

Stepping into the chilly night air once more, something compels you to stare into the blank nothingness.

The memories of a place where you’ve spent the previous day call back to you. 

You're pretty sure, now more than ever, that it's staring right back. You can't see it.

You hesitate. The wind roars once more and something by the house is squealing. You don't turn to check. Foolishly and naively, you finally break the words from your lips.

“Clan build?” You decide to question what you saw yesterday, addressing the air. Your hands give out a slight tremble on your sides. 

When you speak, you're whispering. Your words are drowned out by the background noise. There's no need to be any louder.

For a few seconds, nothing is answering. And then, nothing answers.