Pandemonium | Dream SMP

74. You really think I was going to let Wilbur blow up the girl I simp for?

"Try a little higher," I prompt, lifting Tubbo's elbow by an inch.

A loud twang echoes through the infirmary, followed by a hollow thunk as the arrow buries itself in the side of the practice barrel. Three more arrows already litter its wood surface, each one growing closer to a painted red circle.

"You're getting better," I encourage, admiring with pride as Tubbo's bandaged face lights up. And I mean it, too. This is only my third visit, but the improvement of Tubbo's physical abilities is obvious. His right arm and eye are still wrapped with cotton, the burns too fresh to risk exposure, and he remains bed-bound. But that hasn't stopped him from exercising his body and mind in any way he can. Today's exercise being the crossbow, a mild surprise considering it was the weapon that put him in this situation to begin with.

"Can you pass me another arrow? I think I can do better."

I lean down and pull another arrow from its quiver, passing it to him. He loads the bow slowly, working carefully with his injured hand and impaired vision. Then he fires again.

"Hey, Tubs, you want to-" Tommy pushes back the curtain but falters when he sees me sitting beside Tubbo's bed. "Oh, you're here," he frowns, glancing away. "Hi."

"Hello," I say softly, giving a small nod. I focus my eyes on my hands, tucked between my knees. I still don't know where I stand with Tommy. And neither does he. Since my first visit, he's become less hostile, but he refuses to hold any kind of conversation with me. The most he does is a greeting out of politeness, then he'll ignore me for the rest of my stay unless spoken to directly.

Tommy clearly wants to spend time with Tubbo, so I stand from my chair and give Tubbo's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "I'll see you next time."

"Aww. Bye. Thanks for keeping me company, Ares."

I smile and nod, leaving the infirmary. As I pass Tommy I give a half-smile, which he simply returns with a tight expression. But despite that he nods in goodbye. It's a small acknowledgement, but it's still progress.

Dream is stood a few feet away, talking with Wilbur. Or maybe annoying is a better word for it. Wilbur has his usual displeased expression, arms folded defensively across his chest. His body posture couldn't make it more obvious that he doesn't want to talk to Dream right now.

I'm noticed by the masked man and he perks up, dropping his conversation immediately to approach me.

"All done?"

"Mhm." I peer around him to give Wilbur a soft smile. "Thanks for letting me come back again."

The man sighs and rubs at his tired eyes. "Yeah, sure, no problem. Not like I could really stop you if I wanted to."

"Maybe so, but it's still appreciated."

"Mmm," he eyes me up thoughtfully, "I hear Mr President isn't doing so hot. Is that true?"

Dream whips his head around and I know he's giving Wilbur a dirty look.

"He...could certainly be doing better," I agree, not wishing to give too much away regarding his personal health. I may be in a neutral stance with Wilbur as of the moment, but never for a second do I forget that Pogtopia is at war with Manburg. At war with Schlatt.

"Alright, enough chit-chat you two," Dream grumbles, ushering me away, deliberately blocking my view of Wilbur.

"That wasn't even a conversation," I muse, an eyebrow raised as I glance up at Dream.

"You don't need to have a conversation with him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."