#sensitive-g

Once, the dance and routine of people-pleasing and smiling and sweeping gestures gave him joy and satisfaction to complete, but that was when he had a partner to dance with. Even then, it was uncomfortable, but now...

Dream wonders if it’s possible for him to stop, at all.

He is here now, in a grand ballroom of golden chandeliers dripping with glittering crystals. Like the palace, he is decorated in metallic accents and draped in luxurious fabric. Dream radiates a beautiful light that is warm, is priceless and tempting and comforting. No one can bear to look away from him. Dream wishes that they would, just for a second, so he can breathe and stop smiling and stop dancing. His head is hot and he feels dizzy, but if he stops smiling for just a second then everyone will know something is wrong with him. Then he won't be Dream at all. He would be an imposter wearing Dream's face, because the multiverse knows Dream never stops smiling. Everyone rests their hopes on his shoulders, he cannot let them down, or the balance will go with him.

He feels as if he is burning from the inside. Molten and white hot, like glass pulled from a fire. His feet prickle from the shoes he wears, his shoulders and back ache from the stiff and proper posture he's kept for hours. The sound of the orchestra is growing horrid and unpalatable to him, where it once pleased one's mind. These movements just keep going onward, the act never-ending. There's so many people here. But he cannot escape or take a rest to breathe, not while everyone is watching him. This is Dream's event, after all- this is his birthday gala, and Ink insisted that it should be as ostentatiously luxurious and fun as possible. If he does not look like he's having fun, then they'll become concerned and unsure and that's not good.

Dream's legs are shaking now, and he thinks that he is quite sick of dancing. He doesn't recognize his partner, or the beautiful mask they wear. But the way their hands soothe his aches and pains makes him melt more, just a little, and he wishes-

No, he can't. Dream doesn't have time to be worrying about himself. Everyone is relying on him to make the party fun. Dream tries to focus, but he can't. His head is just so stuffy and his face is so warm, and his eyes keep drifting shut. How long has he been dancing? What was he dancing for, anymore? And why would he keep on doing it, even if he didn't want to dance anymore?

He feels the ground leave his feet as he teeters again on that painful wire, swaying slightly from side to side. Why would he dance anymore? Why should he keep on dancing? What happens when he stops?

What happens when Dream is no longer useful to everyone? What happens when he is no longer Dream?

Dream's cheek is touched by a soft glove. Someone is holding the small of his waist, their fingers splayed against his back to keep him from falling to the floor. His legs just seem to have stopped working. Is it over? His soul shivers. Is it finally over, the dance, is it done?

There is something happening, people feel- he feels a wave of concern about the room. Blue is nearby, he is speaking to his dance partner, but he can't quite make out anything. Why is he so tired? When is he not tired? Blue is close by, his friend will take care of him. Afterward, he'll have to repay Blue for the inconvenience, surely, but now... can he stop dancing?

He breathes in, and feels his partner say something muffled to him. Ah, it smells so nice. It smells like... the Tree, when he was young. Dream's head is heavy. His senses are so muddled. It's as if he's viewing everything through a haze- and he thinks that it would be very embarrassing if he fainted again. Especially with everyone watching.

“Rest, now.” 

Dream feels something warm trail down his face. He hopes he hasn’t started crying. That wouldn’t be good for his image at all, and it'd cause undue distress. It would be very unlike him to cry.

He exhales slowly, and the reins on his body begin to slacken.

"Perfect." And he melts a little more into the touch, brought to someone's chest tenderly, the back of his head cradled by a glove. It's so nice to be appreciated. For things to be simple and easy. Dream's soul shivers, as if he were being brought closer to the missing piece of something he's longed for. As if slotting into a puzzle that he belongs to.

Something in the ballroom loudly shatters- and he jolts to awareness, gasping as he fights the instinctive rush of magic. The arms wrapped around him flex. Dream's eyes snap open (when did they shut?) and he tries to move to defend- He catches a glimpse of something dark, and for a moment, wonders- Nightmare?

The soothing voice tuts, and the lights extinguish. No, he thinks, it can't be. People cry out in fear, in surprise, and the combined blast of stimuli makes his head ache severely. There's a muffled laugh that vibrates through his cheek from where it's pressed to that familiar stranger's chest. He can hear Blue loudly saying something, he feels upset, but why is Dream's hearing so muffled? Dream pushes back against them, but they restrain him tightly, and fear kindles in his chest.

"Let me go-!" Dream exclaims, before the glove clamps over his mouth. It's so utterly dark that he cannot see a single thing, except for the bright glow of the dangerous stranger's iris, unobstructed by the curling golden accents of their mask.

"Stop. Struggling." They lowly croon. He feels as if he's suddenly caught by their gaze, and every part of his tired body begs him to stop moving, that it would be so easy, it would be so kind to give in to the darkness and fall off the wire. He tries to ignore the thoughts, but they grow persistent. If he lets himself be captured, if he lets himself be injured or even killed... he would be allowed to cry. Dream would be able to finally rest if he...

He cannot summon his bow or his dagger here, there's too many people. Why can't he find the strength to fight back? He could break this hold, it's just that it's so... It's so nice. It's awfully, wonderfully comforting, to be forced to stop moving. His eyes grow tired and his head heavy again, though his mind races. It's ridiculous that he's thinking this, it's dangerous, he's risking his life and the lives of others! Blue is depending on him, everyone is, he needs to fight back!

Then, he is drenched by a sudden cold. His vision disappears for a second, and he panics, before looking around again as the slight silhouettes of the other dancers are erased entirely.

Where did everyone go? He couldn't sense them at all. It feels like it's just the two of them, suspended in the endless, blind dark. Dream holds onto them tightly, as if he will continue to fall without them. Slowly, the hand over his mouth slips away, ghosting over his chin and brushing over his chin softly.

His soul quickens, and given their small chuckle, he has an inkling they know. Perhaps he could reason with them, if they are non-malicious. His glove carefully rests on their shoulder, and he feels their grip on his waist squeeze- not in warning, but in surprise. Pleasant surprise, if he senses them correctly. Everything is still confusing and muddled.

"Why?" He can't find the rest of his voice or the questions he wants to ask.

They trace his features delicately. That yellow eye, it's so familiar... It softens, curves into a smile that he's worn before. The mask is removed, and he feels them take off his own, revealing two faces near identical.