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Dream looks so peaceful, sitting there. Ink hasn't known his teammate for long, but every time they see him they can't help thinking he seems so cool.
He's always so calm, like nothing could ever faze him. Ink hasn't seen him appear bothered by anything yet.
Which is why, in the moment, it seems funny to sneak up on him. Ink can't imagine any way for it to go wrong.
Ink stands up suddenly next to him, their face inches away from his.
"Hiiii~" they start to say, but they only get as far as "hhh--" before the (fortunately unnecessary) air is knocked out of them by an elbow to their middle.
They barely have time to process that before a fist slams into their face with a sharp crack that would have sounded painful if they knew what "painful" felt like. Startled, they don't do anything to stop themself from falling to the ground.
They look up, and for a split second, they see Dream with a summoned knife in each hand, his eyelights pale and wild.
Despite the entire situation, they grin. Woah, they think. That's kind of awesome?
And then Dream is kneeling by their side, warm healing magic held to the side of their skull (to absolutely no effect.)
"I-ink?!" he gasps, looking over them with concern. "I-- I didn't know you were-- I'm sorry," he says, stumbling over his words.
Ink laughs, still a little breathless but not really bothered by it.
"You're-- you're good, Dream," they brush it off. They tried to scare him, they were kinda asking for it. And they got what they wanted, really! That was a good reaction. They can just imagine how cool he'd look, obliterating any enemy that sneaks up on him before they even know what hit them--
Dream's shoulders shake, his face twisted up in a quiet sob. His hand is warm and wet on the side of their skull. Why...?
"It's not healing," Dream whispers. He looks absolutely distraught.
Ink realizes that there's black blood pooling around their skull. Oh.
They try to sit up but Dream holds them down, their skull cradled in his hand, gentle but frantic.
"No, you'll make it worse," he says, oblivious to the fact that Ink doesn't do injuries like everyone else. They don't feel it, they'll heal easily-- oh.
"Dream," Ink says, "Dream, I'm fine-- magic's not going to heal that, it's okay, let me do it."
"I've got it," Dream insists. The light in his hand grows brighter, pleasantly hot, and continues to achieve nothing.
"No, no, no why isn't it-- you're okay, you're going to be okay, I'm sorry," Dream says under his breath.
A couple of tears drip off Dream's face. Ink screwed up?? This wasn't supposed to happen?? What do they do???
Ink teleports, falling apart into a black puddle before reforming a few feet away.
"Ink no--!!" Dream cries. He falls forward, catching himself on his hands, hovering over the stain.
Maybe they should have thought that through a little better, too.
"Dream I'm fine," they shout, rushing over to put their hands on his shoulders. Dream looks up near-instantly, grabs their wrists in a crushing grip.
He looks confused and devastated, tears running down his flushed cheekbones. Okay, they feel really bad now.
They didn't mean to do this!! They'll never try to jumpscare him again!!
"I'm fine," they repeat, "just-- let me have my hands?"
Dream's own hands shake as he looks at them, at the dark blood dripping down the side of their skull and into their scarf.
Hesitantly, Dream releases them.
Ink reaches for a vial of paint-- cyan, so they can stay calm instead of also freaking out. They down about a third of it, maybe a little too quickly, then wipe their arm over the side of their skull. The paint smears but they hope they got enough of it off to show him there's no crack.
"See?" they try. "I'm fine."
Dream stares at them.
"...Sorry," they add sheepishly.
Dream takes deep breaths.
"...Are you really okay?" he finally asks, his voice small.
"Yep," Ink says. "Didn't even feel it."
Dream stares at them. He stares at their face and the side of their skull, the bone smooth as if it hadn't been cracked just minutes ago. Ink stands there and lets him look, awkwardly blushing a little under Dream's worried gaze.
Hesitantly, allowing Ink time to move away if they wanted, Dream pulls Ink into his arms. They end up with their face pressed to Dream's chest, close enough to feel how quickly his soul is beating. They want to hug him back but their arms are trapped in Dream's crushing embrace.
"I'm sorry," Dream whispers, with such complete sincerity that Ink kind of feels like a jerk just for hearing it.
"...It's fine," they reply. They're not sure what else to say.
Dream keeps holding on to them. Any other time it would feel so nice, but right now they just feel like they've screwed up. The feeling of shame is familiar, same as all the other times they've said the wrong thing or done something weird, and felt the exact moment everyone else in the room stopped thinking of them as 'cool' or 'normal' or 'worth spending time with.'
Except... Dream doesn't seem to be thinking like that? He's worried about them, holding them? Why...?
Well, he did punch them. Does that somehow shift the blame and cancel out their own mistake? But they didn't actually get hurt, and they did start it, and they still feel bad.
Whatever the reason, Dream doesn't seem mad at them. Unless he's just hiding it until later for some reason.
Ink leans a little closer to Dream. He seems a little more calm now, but still hugs Ink tighter in reply.
...Seems like he still likes them. At least for now, until they do something else to mess this up. They don't want that to happen. They like Dream. They haven't known him for long, but that's still farther than they've gotten with anyone else before.
Lesson learned, then. Do not jumpscare Dream. They'll make sure to write it down.
Somehow, they get the feeling that won't be enough.