#ktifmb

Dream is beautiful. It’s something he’s known, of course. He’s beautiful in the way he moves, the way he effortlessly jumps across the roof. He’s beautiful in the way he dodges and weaves when they spar, the way he doesn’t trip over his feet anymore as he brings himself close enough to touch before his fist collides with Techno’s jaw. He’s beautiful in the way he reaches behind his head, the buckles clicking softly as he gently drops the last shield he holds between them.

He smirks as Techno falters for words, though he can see the way his fingers nervously run over the edges of the mask. Techno sits closer, the light from the windows trickling past the gap in the curtains. He wants to reach out and touch, to change the memory in his head with what he’s now trusted with. He’s almost sure that if he does, that Dream will fade into smoke and wisp into nothingness around his fingers. He’s afraid, Techno finds. Deep in his chest where only Phil and Wilbur have reached into to wrap their fingers around his heart, he finds the fear settling deep within his marrow. 

The fear that this won’t last, that he’ll wake up in the morning and all he’ll be left with is the memories of something that never even happened. 

Dream reaches for him first, his hand warm where it settles on his cheek. Techno hesitates just one moment before he leans into the touch. “What,” he says, a bitter laugh dancing on his tongue. “Am I so ugly that you’re speechless?”

“You’re beautiful,” Techno replies immediately, his response an exhale with the need to get the words out of him. Dream stills, then softens in a way that he’s never seen with anyone but Wilbur. Techno holds that memory tight in his hands, slots it in right with Phil’s first laugh and Wilbur kissing him in the greenhouse. He reaches up to cup Dream’s cheek in his own hand, almost shocked that he doesn’t slip out of his fingers immediately. He does twitch back before he leans into the touch. Techno doesn’t let that hurt him more than it should. He’ll take what he can get from Dream. He’ll take whatever Dream gives him and he’ll hoard it selfishly.

“More beautiful than Wilbur?” he asks, and they both know that’s not true.

“No one’s more beautiful than Wilbur,” he replies, and Dream laughs as he agrees. But Techno needs Dream to know it, still. He needs Dream to hear it. “But you’re close,” he says and Dream’s laugh fades into nothingness. 

. . .

When Techno wakes up the next morning, he can still hear Dream’s laugh echoing around in his skull. For a moment, when he closes his eyes, he can still see Dream’s face in his mind. He’s beautiful, in this memory he finds between Phil’s first laugh and Wilbur kissing him in the greenhouse. He’s beautiful and Techno aches with it.

But it is morning now, and he needs to wake up from dreams and memories. He rolls towards his nightstand, reaching for his glasses, when his hand rests on something smooth and large. Technoblade blinks the sleep from his eyes as he rises from his bed, his gaze falling on the mask resting on his nightstand. He hears shuffling behind him, feels a body press close to him, and when he turns, his breath catches in his throat.