The metal was cold, freezing in comparison to the hot blood pumping out around it. I drew a ragged breath, even more blood gurgling up. There was so much; dripping from my shaking fingers, soaking my clothes, dribbling out my mouth. The taste was appalling, enough so to make me gag. The muscles that weren't torn clenched feebly, and squeezed around the sword lodged in my abdomen. I couldn't help but cry out. As I fell backwards, my mind drifted, and the black splotches that had been floating in the corners of my sight swelled and merged…

John Egbert woke with a start. Dave's head slid from his chest, but he just rolled over with a snort and clung to John's leg.

John didn't register any of that. He was too busy patting at his stomach, searching for any sign of blood. All he found was a cold sweat suctioning his shirt to his body. But then, he couldn't really be sure that it was him who had been stabbed… It had felt like him… He breathed deep, taking in the warm May breeze. The air was slightly salty; the Puget Sound roared just off the cliff that was several yards away. In the opposite direction was Jade playing some sort of game with Becquerel that involved fetching and tackling. Rose watched from a tall pine tree not far from the romping duo.

"Trippy dream…" John mumbled, running an admittedly shaking hand through his hair. Several clumps of grass were loosened from his locks at the action.

The dream had been so vivid, and though the entire experience had likely been over in under a minute, it had felt like forever. Parts were amazing. John remembers flying. Flying, for gosh sake.

But parts were horrendous. It was… He couldn't even come up with words. And Dave… Dave! John shuddered. He couldn't remember, but it had been awful. He hadn't been there, where ever there was.

He reached down, fingers running through the momentarily messy head of hair resting on his lap. Dave unconsciously leaned into the touch. This particular Sunday (God, this morning felt like ages ago…) had felt special to John, mostly due to Dave. Dave would never admit it (and John would never admit that he knew), but he kinda had body image issues. His skin was pale, and he was on the thin side (though John saw nothing wrong with that, he'd gladly give over his soft belly), and John knew Dave thought about these things constantly.

But this morning Dave had been in one of the most exuberant moods, happy and playful in a way that he rarely was. It was the joy that perhaps urged him to forgo his ever-present long-sleeved tee for a soft cotton beater. Today was a rare occasion that John was more covered than Dave.

It was impossible to deny that he wasn't enjoying the way Dave's barely there muscles rippled as he stretched and blinked his chocolate eyes up at John.

But then, he didn't have to.

A/N: Okay, so I don't really write that much and this probably isn't very good. There's also kinda no point to it… It was loosely inspired by Alexandra Douglass' art for the month of May in the Homestuck 2012 calender (Titled 'Together'). The whole Sburb-Was-A-Dream thing has probably been done a metric fuckton of times before but I've never come across any of it so shoosh.

Also, I kinda didn't catch up in Homestuck? It's just a little hard to escape spoilers. I kinda feel pathetic relying on stuff that might not be true because I run away if anything vaguely like a spoiler is revealed to me. But uh. I just couldn't not write it, when everything was coming out of my pencil so beautifully (at least I like to think so). So I apologize if I fucked stuff up. Don't tell me if I did