Chapter 3

[Isn't it unfair that I still love you?]

He loved him. He had loved him as he had never loved anyone, because no one had ever given him such attention, no one had ever given him such love.

He had loved him for his sweetness, his kindness. He had loved him for his looks, his words, his touch. He had loved him like many people, because Dream was loved by all, Dream was not like him.

[ Dream... wasn't like him ]

He hated it. He had hated him like he had never hated anyone, because no one had ever inflicted such suffering on him.

He had hated him for his ignorance, his naivety. He hated him for his innocent smiles, his lack of reaction, his lack of protection. He had hated him for being so different, so perfect, so luminous, so superior to him.

[Dream was superior to him]

[He always was.]

The bullying was nothing compared to his brother's ignorance. The beatings were superficial compared to the blindness of his twin. Why couldn't he see anything? Why didn't he protect him? Did he mean so little to him that his brother, his only family, the person he loved, whom he adulated, whom he admired the most, did nothing about him, did not help him?

He hated it.

[He wanted him to disappear.]

The black apples, his apples, had been a delicious revenge, a delicate attention that had allowed him to quench his vengeance, had allowed him to pay for all his swellings that had so many times mistreated him. He made them suffer as he had suffered, he gave them back his pain a hundredfold, he ... oh yes, yes, he tortured them, and he loved it. Because those Dreamtale Beings were just evil, lying, hypocritical monsters...

[Exactly like Dream]

But he couldn't have killed his brother. He couldn't do it. Was it a manifestation of his love, a part of him that continued to hope, that continued to feel kindness towards his twin?

Oh, no, no, not at all.

Death was only too sweet for Dream. He wanted to destroy it, to destroy it mentally, to show him that the world was not just a happy fairy tale, a beautiful story where everything ends well.

But he had failed. With each attempt, Dream came back stronger, smiled again, gave him love and attention. Dream's keeper was up to his role: he was always optimistic, always believing that positive thinking was the best solution.

Nightmare had gone into a frenzy. He had tried everything. He'd broken his bones, he'd sequestered him, he'd tortured him. The real problem was that he was unable to feel his twin's emotions, as if he had enough control over them that no one could read them. Unless Nightmare was simply unable to feel the positive emotions? The same with nightmares: he couldn't give them to Dream, just as Dream couldn't give him dreams.

And this situation dragged on, dragged on to the point where Nightmare wanted to end it all. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take it anymore.

"DON'T TELL ME YOU UNDERSTAND ME! DON'T GIVE ME ANY MORE OF YOUR BULLSHIT! DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU TRUST ME, THAT YOU LOVE ME, THAT YOU WANT WHAT'S BEST FOR ME! YOU'RE A LIAR! »

Dream hadn't said anything back. Dream looked down. Dream... accepted his words, agreed with his words.

[ Dream lied to him ]

Nightmare knew that. He knew that it was all just talk. But to face the fact, to take the truth so abruptly...

That hurt.

Really badly.

He came home that day devastated, paid no attention to his henchmen, locked himself in his room and never came out. Because he would have been unable to face anyone with such a livid face, because he would have been unable to explain his swollen eyes, his tear marks on his cheeks.

Because Dream destroyed it.

[ But Dream wasn't the only one that mattered. ]

Nightmare had first been surprised when Horror knocked on his door, calling him in a voice that sounded worried. He had ignored him, but when the other one insisted he went into a dark rage, opened the door to hit him ... and fell on his henchman holding a meal tray. A meal for him.

Days had followed without any comment from any of his subordinates, without any of them noting the sadness that emanated from him. They acted as usual, bickering like children and annoying the nightmare master. But Nightmare had felt this change, this sweetness and tenderness emanating from them.

The Bad Sanses weren't afraid of him.

When he fell back to Dream, he thought he'd fainted. Failing when he saw his twin who no longer tried to resonate with him, who had given up the idea of bringing him back to the right side. But once again, the Bad Sanses had been there, he had supported and protected him, personally taking care of the guardian of dreams.

When Cross betrayed them to the Star Sanses, Nightmare thought he'd gone mad. His rage had driven him to destroy part of his castle, to massacre everything he could get his hands on, to hurt his subordinates. But they didn't blame him.

They understood his suffering. Nightmare had guilt. He didn't want to hurt them...

That is why he had not hit Cross on his return, although he was not sure he could trust him. Except that the swordsman had swept away his doubts with a wave of his hand: "Dream has told me your story. This is unfair. Everything that's happened to you is unfair. "

Nightmare had frozen.

So... he wasn't the only one who thought so?

Did anyone else know it was unfair?

He thought he'd cracked, but he stuck it out. He was the master of negativity! He couldn't let anyone get at his feelings, discover his weaknesses! Let alone a traitor who had a friendly relationship with his brother!

But Nightmare was weak. Yes, he was weak, he couldn't hide from it. He couldn't keep lying to himself: he was happy that he was finally getting attention, genuine attention, real affection. No lies, no tricks, no pretences.

We loved him for who he was.

[ Dreams don't count anymore ]

[ Dream was just a remnant from the past, a mere obstacle, a meaningless enemy like Ink ]

[ Dreams don't mean anything to him anymore ]

At least, Nightmare thought he'd gotten used to the idea. He thought he'd gotten used to the daily routine.

Until you feel these emotions. Violent negative emotions, emotions he couldn't define the source of. Negative emotions that he could not enjoy, that he could not draw power from.

These negative emotions were not normal.

And Nightmare had this strange feeling. This feeling that these emotions had always been there without him being able to feel them, feels that he could locate them. He had this feeling that they were very familiar to him and that intrigued him, intrigued him but also worried him.

Apprehension was taking hold of him.

And then there was the fight.

[He mocked Dream as usual]

He left him face to face with Cross, knowing that they were friends, knowing that Dream would never dare to make any trouble for him. ]

...wrong?

He was petrified. Petrified of a terror he had never felt, as if all the negativity in the world had gathered at a specific point to implode, to drive him mad.

[ Cross was down ]

[ Cross was wounded ]

He thought he was hallucinating, like everyone else at the scene. His gaze went from Cross, unconscious, to Dream, his face devoid of emotion. A face as inexpressive as Ink's when he wasn't drinking his bottles.

[He didn't recognize his twin.]

The atmosphere had become icy, the tension more stifling than ever. Nightmare... Nightmare was terrified, unable to move, unable to help Cross, unable to attack Dream.

A terrifying realization hit him, slammed him in the face. He felt faint before the horror of the situation, before this truth that could not exist, this truth that should have been impossible: these abnormal emotions that he had been feeling all this time ... these negative emotions that disgusted him, that had been there since he was a child, that he had never been able to define correctly ...

[ Emotionally from Dream ]

[ Dream... has been giving off negative emotions forever ]

Nightmare would've probably thrown up with his stomach turned over by this revelation. Anger, pain, resentment, terror, TERROR!

[ Dream beaming ]

Nightmare froze. He did not react when his henchmen rushed at Cross. He didn't react when he saw Cross moaning in pain, half-conscious, on the brink of death. He doesn't react when it was Ink who healed him.

Because he didn't understand. It couldn't be real. It couldn't have really happened.

Dream was the keeper of positivity. Dream was naive, far too innocent and kind, far too locked up in its bubble of gaiety. Dream was...

- "YOU'RE A LIAR" -

Dream was...

- "LIAR"...

Dream was... !

[ Dream was a liar ]

[ Chuckles ]

Nightmare became livid. His eye lit up.

He teleported before the stunned eyes of his companions.

He teleported to Dream, to that unknown house he'd never been able to visit.

[Because he could only teleport to places where he felt negativity]

The show left him speechless. His only eye clung to his brother's feverish body, to his body hanging in the void that was painfully crumbling, cracked everywhere, broken in places, close to turning to dust. Then he captured the presence of Shattered, this pale copy, this failed imitation of his twin, this imitation that was almost similar to him except that he was only a scum, a demented being.

And he lives it. He felt it.

This piece washed up in the rubble. That negative sense of insanity.

[ Black apples ]

The horror took him by the guts.

[ S ]

He drew out his tentacles, propelled them against Shattered to smash him against the wall, strike him with a gaping wound, make him suffer, MAKE him PAY! THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE, HOW COULD HE DARE? HOW DARE HE TOUCH HIS BROTHER?!

He only caught up with Dream through his sharp reflexes, his body trembling with a rage, a hatred that he struggled to maintain, to control. He perceived his brother's gaze, perceived his terror and pain, perceived his little positivity being swallowed up, drowned by negativity.

And he saw his brother sink, close his eyes, pass out.

His brother at death's door.

" SHATTERED! »

This house, this whole universe trembled brutally, wavering in the face of this scream. Dream's counterpart shuddered, barely recovering from the wound inflicted by Nightmare.

The nightmare master went mad with rage. He squeezed his twin against him, his palms trembling against this frail body, his throat tied in the face of such fragility. His vision became blurred, obstructed by tears of anguish, tears of panic that slid down his cheek as he gazed at Shattered without a pupil.

It's a beautiful day, isn't it?

His aura eluded him, he lost control, lost mastery of his whole being.

[ Birds singing, flowers blooming ]

The space sank into darkness, negativity took over the place completely. Shattered stood up, one hand on his bloody wound, his vital points half removed.

On days like this...

Their eyes met. Their eyes lit up.

[ Monsters like you ]

"ARE LIVING A REAL NIGHTMARE"

Nightmare brandishes his tentacles, shoots them straight at his enemy. Shattered smiled, dodged one with a simple step to the side, teleported himself to dodge the other two. The nightmare bent down, dodged a tentacle in turn, and teleported into the heavens, Dream still in his arms. He made a Gaster Blaster appear and leaned on it, firing a straight beam at his opponent.

Shattered contra the blow by protecting himself with bones, projected his tentacles towards Nightmare but missed him, only managing to destroy his Gaster Blaster in a violent explosion. The blast threw Nightmare to the ground. He landed brutally on his feet, grimaced as he felt a pain go through his legs, took a look at Dream to check his condition and then turned back to Shattered.

He turned his soul blue, pinned it to the ground and impaled it on bones. The shattered dream weighed heavily, managed at the last moment to thwart this bad trick, but was wounded in the arm. In a burst of rage he disappeared in a flash, only to find himself behind Nightmare, whom he attacked with a sharp bone. The nightmare also attacked Nightmare with a bone, retaliated, tried to slice him off without being able to reach him.

Shattered ricana, immobilized Nightmare with blue bones before putting him to play with his own Gasters Blasters.

The nightmare master gritted his teeth. He had no choice but to throw Dream to the side before the rays hit him, reducing the place where he was standing to ashes and dangerously diminishing his life points.

Shattered pinned him to the ground, crushed his face with his foot, brandished his tentacles which he was going to take pleasure in driving into the wounded body of the master of nightmares, which he was going to take pleasure in driving into the soul of his enemy.

But he got paint in his face. The surprise interrupted him, he lowered his guard for half a second, long enough to allow Nightmare to push him back, to project him several meters back.

Shattered wiped himself off the handle, looked up, grunted an insult at the sight of Ink standing between him and Nightmare, the brush drawn and the face filled with rage. He prepared to attack the Creator, but his instincts screamed for him to move.

TO MOVE FAST!

He threw himself to the side, squealed in amazement as bluish threads burst against the ground where he stood, dangerously familiar bluish threads.

The broken dream turned its head, shivering with anguish at the sight of Error.

The situation was turning to his disadvantage. Three to one... It was, uh... It was, uh...

[ Scoffs ]

Shattered clenched his fists.

He teleported, disappearing for good from this universe.

Nightmare coughed, the body aching but not enough to stop him from getting up. He saw Ink's confused gaze... And both of them suddenly turned pale, turning simultaneously to Dream lying on the ground.

Dream whose soul had split.