Chapter Text
Dream legs it down the alleyway, bag gripped tightly in his hand. His cheeks are already red and angry from the bitter cold wind and his feet numb inside his shoes. He can hear rasped shouts from behind him, and forces his legs to move faster.
The end of the alleyway is fast approaching, and Dream knows what's around the corner. He can hear the shouts get closer and closer, and Dream's lungs scream in protest as the air seemingly gets colder and his fingers grip the bag tighter. He's tense, and he knows he'll be a lot faster if he took a second to loosen up...but they have a plan.
"Get back here you BASTARD!"
Just as Dream reaches the end, he turns a sharp left, narrowly avoiding the young boy in a bright purple hoodie and black jeans. Suddenly, he hears a shout from behind him, and the boy in the purple hoodie is on the floor along side the beefy man who had previously been chasing Dream.
Dream passes an older boy in a white hoodie, with black stripes on the sleeves. They smile to each other knowingly, and suddenly the boy in the white hoodie is running to the two bodies on the floor.
"Did you just push over a kid?" He demands. Dream has no time to listen to the argument that follows. He bolts it down the street, taking a right, skimming cars as he recklessly runs across the street. His destination is soon in sight as he spots the old forest up ahead, behind all the run down homes that litter the streets.
An iron fence decorated in neon yellow warning signs blocks off the forest. It's been that way for years, and not one of them listens to it. Nobody goes into the forest anyway. Only them. It's their safe space. A space away from the abuse and anger.
Dream clambers over the fence with skill that has been mastered over the years. The forest isn't too hidden, but as he walks deeper and deeper, it becomes harder for any member of the public to spot them.
He takes his time, wondering down the path they pathed together, the route Dream knows better than any other. It's mostly quiet; birds are chirping happily, leaves crunch beneath his feet, and in the far, far distance he can hear cars passing by. He hides his hands in the sleeves of his neon green hoodie in an attempt to warm them up. His chest still heaves and he can see his breath.
He can see their den only a mere ten meters away. He smiles to himself, recognising the log structure they built years ago, decorated with their old t-shirts as bunting, and stolen candles that are more water than wax. It's a typical den, with logs leant against either side of a low hanging branch, each tied at the top with worn down string and flimsy sticks. Faded fabrics are woven between some of the sticks, and the inside is decorated with battery powered fairly lights that ran out months ago, as well as slightly moulded pillows.
Dream throws himself inside the den and admires the sturdy structure, before laying down on the most comfortable pillow, and placing the bag beside him. There are seven pillows in total. All stolen.
He must doze off for a moment, because he is awoken suddenly when he hears laughs heading his way. He can't help but smile back to himself.
"He looked like he was going to cry," a younger sounding voice bragged.
"Yeah, with anger maybe."
"Took you guys long enough!" Dream shouts from the floor.
Purpled is the first to leap into the den, landing on Dream's stomach and laughing when his older brother groans in pain.
"You should've seen it, an old lady across the street started yelling at him and even hit him with her walking stick. It was hilarious."
Punz slid into the den, laying next to both his younger brothers, head resting on one of the more intricately designed pillows.
"I wish I could have seen it, but I was busy getting away."
"What did you grab anyway?" Punz asks, opening the bag he lays next to.
"The usual," Dream says, grabbing the bags out of his hands, and pulling out three coke cans, a music magazine and an array of sweets. "I couldn't find the magazine we usually get, so I hope this'll do."
Punz just shrugs. "Entertainment is entertainment. Sam will be mad when he finds out though."
"Sam won't be mad," Purpled pipes up, "not unless that bitch reports us as missing...I bet she won't even notice we're gone."
Purpled, unfortunately, is right. The siblings are currently staying with a lady called Mrs Brown (how unique). She refuses to let the boys call her by her first name (Mandy...again, how unique). She pretends to be strict and orderly to anyone outside of closed doors, but within those four cold walls, she's neglectful, thoughtless and only fostering for the money. She wears a mask when Sam checks up on them, decorating and cleaning the house, pulling Dream into a suffocating hug, praising Purpled at any given moment and even ruffling Punz's hair from time to time. None of the boys have the guts to say anything to Sam. Mrs Brown certainly isn't the worst foster they had ever had. Dream remembers the times they were all separated, Purpled only being five, Punz nine and Dream himself eight. He remembers feeling cold and alone, worrying relentlessly about his family. It wasn't the first nor last time either.
He knows it's never Sam's fault they end up in difficult situations. Sam is just there to do as he is told by his bosses.
Dream feels Purpled press closer to him. Their brotherly telepathy must be working as Punz slings an arm around both of them as he rolls onto his stomach. None of them like thinking about the past. Dream worries for the day Punz turns eighteen in only six short months. Purpled has only just turned thirteen and Dream himself is sixteen...it wont be long before Punz is thrown out of the system, followed closely by Dream and Purpled is alone by himself. Perhaps that is why they do what they do; steal, fight, runaway...perhaps it's because they are all in denial about the future, and this is their protest to stay together.
After all, nobody wants to adopt three teenagers.