"Why do I keep coming here?"
Brian blinked, and blinked again. "Um, because you've been sleeping?" he suggested, leaning his back against the tall tree.
Tim shot him a look. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out," he said. "I mean, why here, of all places? And why with you?" he gestured to the forest surrounding them, and then to his friend.
He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Memories, probably. That's part of dreams, isn't it? I don't know, I'm not a sleep expert," he glanced around at the wildlife. "Maybe you should ask Jeff," he chuckled.
There was no fire anymore. There was no ash. In fact, the trees, once dead and bare, were now lush with bright green leaves that seemed to glow in the bright sun.
Tim sighed and stared at his feet. Small bugs marched along the dirt, disregarding him. He was silent for a moment. "I don't like it."
"What?"
He looked up to see his friend's horrified face, pale and shaken. "Being here. With you. Too many bad memories. It's kinda hard to move on when you're reliving it every night."
Eyes wide, Brian spoke shakily, "So want to forget about me?"
Tim began to shake his head, but stopped himself. "Maybe. I don't know. It would probably make things easier," he admitted. "I wish I didn't have to, but what else can I do?"
For a moment, nothing. Then, Brian crossed his arms and frowned. "No. If you forget about me, then what did I die for?"
Tim did not hesitate with his retort. "Hoodie died for the Operator. He was a Proxy. You're just here to drive me insane with guilt."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not real," Brian spoke. The normally jovial man now glared daggers. "And I'm trying to help you."
Tim coughed for a moment, taken aback. "Help me? How is this helping? You think constant nightmares are going to fix this?" He coughed again. "All you're doing is making this harder. I'm just trying to survive, to do my job. If you want to help, then leave me alone!"
Just then, to the surprise of both of them, Brian fell backwards through the tree with a sudden crack! Tim instantly ran over to the heap his friend lay in, and knelt down.
Dazed, Brian sat himself upright. He instinctively began to brush the dirt off his beloved hoodie, only to find he was not covered in soil, but flames. He froze, and looked up to the forest. Tim did the same.
Everything was on fire.
With his bare hands, Brian picked up what was once part of the tree he leaned on. Charred and black, with flickering gold. Only seconds ago it had been living flora.
Tim coughed again, exhaling black smoke. "Are you okay?" he asked, though he felt silly saying it. Of course he was, and of course he wasn't.
Brian flicked away the glowing black chunk. "Tim. Masky. You've never been fine on your own. Ever. I know you better than anyone. You need someone to stop you from ruining yourself. And if you can't trust anyone else, you're stuck with the dead guy." He smiled softly, as if to lessen the blow.
Still on the ground, flames easily licked at them both. "I suppose," he sighed, "but this really doesn't seem like what normal people do when their best friend dies."
"But you're not normal," Brian smiled. Tim frowned at him. "Alright," Brian threw his hands up into the smoky air, "Don't think of me as Brian. Or Hoodie. Let's say I'm, um... an abstract representation of, uh, your past sins, and by us staying friends... um, I guess that symbolizes how you've come to terms with what happened. Or something."
Despite the sadness and hellfire, Tim laughed. "That sounds like something right out of the Marble Hornets script. But somehow still with less forced symbolism."
Brian swore under his breath, swatting away a nearby flame. "I was trying to sound smart. Thanks for making me feel bad." But he too was smiling.
Nearby, another tree collapsed. How they didn't notice the forest fire start was a mystery. "Fine," Tim gave in. "I guess these dreams are alright. It's not like I can get any more broken, right?"
The sky darkened, the sun completely shrouded by thick smoke. Somewhere far away, the wildlife they had seen earlier was screaming. Loud.
"Thank you. I promise you won't regret it," Brian lied.
