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The first problem, Hob thinks, is that Dream ultimately struggles with balance . Left to his own devices, he is a pendulum swinging back and forth, never managing to settle in a comfortable middle. It is endearing, and frustrating, and heartbreaking, and so very sweet, but Dream simply tries much too hard.
The second problem, is that Hob has had a fucking terrible day.
It starts off wrong when he hits ‘off’ instead of ‘snooze’ on his alarm. By the time he’s realized his mistake he’s forced to skip coffee and breakfast in order to have any hope of getting to work only a little late.
Which means he’s hungry, tired, and developing a caffeine headache during his least favorite class of the week. In general he loves his job as a university professor, but every now and then he got groups like this one- who never did the readings, didn’t participate, and overall made it very clear that they didn’t want to be here, no matter the work Hob put into the lesson plans to try to get them engaged.
By the time he finally makes it to the staff break room, he only manages a single sip of coffee before turning a corner and immediately running into another professor and dumping the hot liquid all over himself. It’s about then that he begins to suspect with growing dread that this is just going to be One Of Those Days.
And unfortunately, he’s right. He spends the work day in a coffee stained shirt, a student after class eats up half his lunch break asking questions that were definitively covered in the syllabus, he hits his knee hard on the edge of his desk, and when he finally gets to his car to go home, he finds the battery dead and ends up spending nearly an hour tracking down someone with jumper cables to give him a jump start.
The door to his flat slams shut behind him as Hob practically throws his messenger bag on the floor. Sighing heavily, he ran his hands through his hair as he made a beeline for the shower. You’d think after six hundred years and many days far worse than this one that he’d be less of a mess. But the truth was, as much as he loved life, he was still human, with a human’s temperament and an absolute disdain for stupid days like this one. Especially when he gets out of the shower and realizes he forgot to grab a towel, the minute warmth and relaxation he’d managed effectively killed when he’s forced to run wet and naked through his cold apartment to fetch one from the linen closet.
So yeah. It’s been a terrible day.
He’s frustrated, and annoyed, and just over this damned day. All he wants is something quick and easy for dinner and maybe a drink before falling into bed to make the day end faster, who cares that it’s barely 6pm.
And that’s when Dream arrives.
In hindsight, Hob should have been expecting him. Dream usually stopped by to visit his lover near the end of the night, sitting with Hob to hear about his day even if just for a little before being drawn back to his duties. They scheduled their longer dates, but Hob was accustomed to Dream popping in whenever he had a chance and knew that Hob was free. His appearance now was not unusual.
But Hob wasn’t thinking about his usual routine. All he was thinking about was his own frustration with everything around him. So instead of a small startle that he brushed off with a laugh, the sudden sound of swirling sand and a deep voice greeting “Hello Hob” had him jumping, his heart racing as his hands flailed and knocked over the beer he had just opened.
That is, apparently, the last straw.
"Jesus, FUCK," Hob slams his hands on the counter, face twisted in anger and he misses the way Dream flinches as he snaps around and shouts, "Would it kill you to use the bloody door? At least then I'd have the option not to open it!"
There is a moment where Hob swears the lights flicker, and Dream’s face darkens like a shadow has passed over him. It is there and gone too fast for him to be certain it wasn’t just his own rage warping his vision.
But then, much more blatantly, Dream… shrinks. Although maybe it's just the way he curls in on himself, averting his eyes and clasping his hands in front of him.
"I sincerely apologize, Hob," there is genuine guilt in Dream's voice, and even through the haze of anger it makes Hob's chest clench. "I will return another time more appropriately." He bows his head and between a blink of an eye is gone from the apartment as quickly as he had arrived.
Hob stalks into the living room, grabs a pillow off the couch and screams into it.
~~~
The next morning, Hob feels… good.
Well, physically he feels good. He has vague memories of a pleasant dream, his body feels loose and well rested, his blankets are warm and comfortable, and he has just enough time before his alarm goes off to get up leisurely. It is, all things considered, a perfect morning.
Which makes him feel, emotionally, like complete and utter shit.
In general, Dream does not interfere with Hob’s sleep. The exceptions being scheduled dream dates, and one instance when Hob had had persistent nightmares for over a week and eventually resorted to begging Dream for a night of dreamless sleep. Most of the time though, Dream has expressed that he thinks it’s important for Hob to experience the Dreaming without his meddling, which Hob understands. If anything, he thinks it makes the times he does spend lucid in the Dreaming more special.
But this morning has the unmistakable impression of Dream’s influence.
When they first reunited, Dream spent every other breath offering Hob things. Boons and answers and powerful trinkets, anything Hob might want in order to make up for his actions in 1889, and for his absence in 1989. It had taken several weeks for Hob to convince him that he was forgiven. That he didn’t need to ‘make up’ for anything, didn’t need to pay Hob back in any way.
This- this perfectly peaceful sleep and soft morning- feels the same. An offering Dream has left at his feet in hopes of forgiveness.
Yeah. Hob feels like shit.
Forcing himself to rise, to disentangle himself from the comfort of his blankets, he makes the decision to deal with one thing at a time. He quickly shoots an email out to the class he has today. He knows he has no hope of focusing on lecturing today, and so he apologizes for canceling at the last minute and attaches a file for a worksheet to complete for the next week. He takes a shower, and in a moment of indulgent self-deprecation, keeps the water icy cold, washing away any lingering comfort from his restful night.
Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of coffee, he sighs and puts his head in his hand. He knows he overreacted, that his words were mean and entirely uncalled for. A small part of him shivers in fear that Dream won’t come back- that his anger with Hob will drive him away just as it did in 1889. But he shakes his head, trying to think logically. Dream has promised him, more than once, to always come back to Hob. Not to mention, Dream’s influence on his sleep the night before suggests that Dream is not gone, but simply waiting for Hob to calm down.
He’s on his second cup of coffee when he looks up and happens to glance at the window. There is, he’s pretty sure, a raven on his windowsill. That raven is, he’s pretty sure, Matthew. They’ve met a handful of times, and he doesn’t think a normal raven could give the impression of glaring quite like this one. Then again, given his luck the past few days, he could very well be about to open his window for a perfectly normal waking world crow.
Approaching the window cautiously, he calls out, “Matthew? That you?”
“No, it’s your mother. Now be a good boy and open the fucking window.”
“Jeez, I was just checking…” Hob grumbled as he unlatched the window, allowing Matthew to glide inside and land on the back of one of his kitchen chairs. “Did… did Dream send you?”
Matthew looks ruffled, “Yes and no. I was just supposed to keep an eye on you from afar, but I have GOT to know what’s going on.”
Hob frowned, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the Dreaming is freaking out. There are these earthquakes popping up all over the place, and when I asked the boss man about it, he just said he ‘wronged Hob Gadling’, which coming from him could mean anything from he broke a teacup to he accidentally started a war. So then he’s all, ‘Matthew’,” he deepened his voice in an impression of Dream, “Go and check on Hob Gadling and bring me news of his emotional state’. Which, I THINK means find out if you’re mad at him? So.” He shrugs as much as a raven is able, “Are you mad at him?”
Hob really doesn’t want to cry in front of Matthew. Still, he can’t keep his voice from cracking with guilt when he answers, “No.” He takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself, “No, of course not! I just… I had a bad day and I overreacted.”
“Oof, we’ve all been there,” Matthew shakes his head sympathetically, “What’d he do to set you off? Cause he feels real bad about it.”
Here, Hob hesitates. Sometimes he feels like Matthew doesn’t really like him, and he has the boyfriend instinct to want, very badly, for Dream’s friends to approve of him. He doesn’t think Matthew will approve of this.
“He… he didn’t really do anything. He, uh, showed up and startled me and I just… y’know… yeah.”
Matthew, expectedly, looks extremely unimpressed, “He ‘showed up’.”
“I mean he, y’know, he did the thing where he just appears, and it always gives me a heart attack but this time I just-”
“Well have you fucking told him that?” Matthew squawks at him, “Jeez, I thought he killed your dog or something the way he was acting. No wonder he didn’t want to check on you himself if he thinks just being here is what made you mad at him!”
“I know!” Hob collapses onto the couch, burying his face in his hands to hide the way his eyes have begun to water, “I feel awful. Could you please, please tell him that? I want to see him so I can apologize properly.”
“Hmf,” Matthew grumbled, looking as annoyed as a raven can, “I’m tempted to let you stew, except for the fact that that would suck for the boss too. Also I’m afraid if I wait too long all those earthquakes are going to turn into a ‘Tremors’ situation.”
Hob let out a sigh of relief, looking up to give Matthew a grateful look, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. But you owe me! I want one of those cakes that’s soaked in rum, got it?”
“Anything,” Hob says without hesitation.
Matthew grumbles a bit more, but looks somewhat sympathetic as he flies back out the window to deliver the message. He knows the raven is right- he’s never told Dream not to do his magic appearing act, he’s always just laughed and greeted him, never gave any indication that Dream should change his arrival. And to be honest, it really didn’t bother Hob. It had just been poor timing the night before, through no fault of Dream’s, and Hob felt awful that his lover got caught in the crossfire of a simple bad day.
So he sits patiently, back straight like a child in the principal's office, mentally rehearsing his apology. Time passes, and he’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly misses the soft knock on his front door. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he stands to answer. He’s halfway to the door before he realizes what is happening, and he sprints the rest of the way.
It feels petty, but he figures Dream has earned a bit of pettiness given Hob’s behavior. Sure enough, when he throws the door open, it is Dream standing before him. He is standing straight and regal, as he always does, but Hob swears he is smaller than usual- shorter, thinner, more delicate. As statuesque as ever, but glass instead of marble.
“Hello Hob.”
Dream’s voice is carefully neutral, and Hob can’t help but wince, “Dream, thank you for coming.” He steps back, gesturing for Dream to enter, which he does after a brief moment of hesitation. As he closes the door, Hob takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to grovel to one of the forces of the universe. It’s not like he’s never gotten into a fight with a partner, he’s certainly had his fair share of screw-ups, but that doesn’t make it feel any better. Not to mention, there’s always the lingering fear of Dream not accepting his apology and simply storming off to a place Hob can’t follow.
Well, there was nothing for it but to try. So with one last steadying breath, Hob turned to face Dream.
“I would like to apologize.”
Hob blinked. His mouth was open, but it was Dream’s voice that rang through the room.
For a long moment they stared at each other in silence, and then Hob shook his head in confusion, “I-... what?”
Dream stiffened, his hands clasped regally in front of him and his eyes on the floor, “I wish. To apologize. For my behavior yesterday. I will do whatever you require of me to make amends.”
There was another pause while Hob gaped, feeling lost, “Wait, you’re not mad at me?”
“For what?” Dream tilted his head in question.
“For- for snapping at you! I yelled at you, for no reason! I should be apologizing to you !” Hob’s arms flailed as he explained, but Dream remained still and stoic.
“Nonsense.” He replied, “You did no wrong.”
And here, Hob frowns, his confusion of the situation shifting into concern. “Yes, I did,” he states slowly, “Dream, the way I acted wasn’t okay.”
“Why? You are within your rights to admonish me when I am at fault.”
“But you weren’t at fault!”
“Obviously I was, to invoke such ire from you.”
“No, no, no,” Hob waved his hands frantically, “That’s exactly my point. I was in the wrong here, because you didn’t do anything and I snapped anyway. And, and I was mean, it’s okay if you’re mad at me for that.”
Dream blinked slowly, expression blank and unchanging at Hob’s words. Hob ran his fingers through his hair, groaning in frustration and dropping down onto the couch, "Oh my God, I've never had to convince a partner to be upset with me before."
"And you do not have to now," Dream frowned, cautiously moving to sit beside him, "You are allowed to express your displeasure with me. I was the one who misstepped. Tell me what I must do for you to accept my apology. Please."
"You don't have anything to apologize for! That's what I'm saying! I need to apologize because I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that-”
“I would not begrudge you taking your frustrations out on me when I am the cause of such frustrations," Dream interrupted. His voice was even and cool, back straight as he sat still and regal. He was far too put together. Especially next to Hob who was literally pulling his hair out.
"No, see, that's-" Hob paused, breathing deeply and trying to at least somewhat compose himself.
"Okay. First of all, you weren't the cause of my frustrations. I'd had a bad day and snapped when I shouldn't have." Dream opens his mouth to argue but Hob cuts him off, "And secondly, even if you were the cause, that doesn't give me the right to be mean. We're in a relationship, that means we talk about these things. You’re allowed to be mad at me when I fuck up.”
Dream stares at him blankly, brows furrowing ever so slightly in confusion, and Hob throws his arms in the air, “Christ, it wasn’t this hard to make you mad when I called you lonely .”
It’s a low blow and Hob knows it, regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, but if nothing else he hopes maybe Dream will finally snap back.
He doesn’t.
Lowering his head in shame, Dream seems to wilt in front of him, “Yes. It is precisely that which has lost me any right to shy from your retribution.”
Hob gaped in blatant horror, “You don’t lose the right to your feelings just because you messed up once-!”
“More than once,” Dream interrupts, his voice hardening, and he forces his eyes up to meet Hob’s gaze, “I have wronged you many times in our acquaintance. You have been kind and generous with me, but I have not forgotten that I have earned your retribution.”
It is perhaps not the best response, but all Hob can do is lean forward, put his head in his hands, and breathe deeply.
It’s not like he didn’t know Dream had some messed up ideas about relationships, but it’s still a lot to take in at once, especially after a day of bracing for something completely different. He was prepared for anger and offense. He was not prepared for this shame.
He realizes that he would take Dream’s pride over this any day.
“Dream,” he speaks slowly, turning back to look at where his lover is still sitting rigid and tense beside him, “I forgave you for that. I forgave you for all of it, a long time ago. There’s… there’s no scoreboard between us.”
He wants, very badly, to take Dream’s hands into his own. But a part of him feels like Dream might shatter if he touches him. Dream’s eyes search his face, and when he speaks, his voice is cold.
"It is not. Just you,” he says, “I have made many mistakes during my existence. I have hurt many people. I am greedy, and arrogant, and do not connect well with others. And I was blind to it, for so long. I know it took me too long to recognize that and to begin making amends, but I am trying to do better now,” Here his eyes drop, shame and sorrow and defeat drawing tears to the corners of his eyes, “I am not doing this right. I know I'm messing this up, and it is unfair of me to ask, but I would gladly give you anything if you would give me another chance."
“I’ll give you as many chances as you need,” Hob replies carefully, “but you don’t need one this time. You aren’t messing anything up. You haven’t done anything wrong. This time I messed up.”
“You did not-“
“Yes, I did,” Hob cut in firmly, "I'm not perfect. You know I'm not. Not every fight or argument is going to be your fault. I'm going to make mistakes too, and I'm not going to let you blame yourself for things that aren't your fault. And I definitely don’t want you to just…. let me hurt you.”
Dream blinks, and while his face remains blank, it’s becoming more obvious how much of an effort it’s taking him to keep it that way.
“Even if I deserve it?”
Despite himself, Hob stands in frustration, “You don’t deserve it!” He snaps.
And here, finally, Dream snaps back, “I have hurt you in the past-“
“That doesn’t mean I’m allowed to hurt you !” Hob interrupts, “Come on , you can be mad at me! You can have feelings when I mess up, and then we’ll work it out and move on, but don’t… don’t just wave it away.” There’s a long pause, and Hob asks, “If I mess up later, would that mean I lose the right to be mad at you?”
Dream snaps his head to meet his gaze, “That’s different.”
“How?”
“ You’re different.”
“ How ?” Hob repeats, insistent.
Dream’s jaw tenses, grinding his teeth together as he looks at Hob with something between sorrow and frustration, “You are a person . You cannot hurt me the way I can- and have - hurt others. The rules are different for me because the consequences are different.” His hands are clenched into fists on his lap, his eyes darting to the side as he grinds out quietly, “I have more than proven that I do not learn when I am given leeway.”
There is a stretch of silence, Dream sitting tense and miserable while Hob stands and tries to find the words that will just make all of this better.
Finally, Hob moves to sit beside Dream again, ducking his head to try to catch Dream’s eye, “Being hurt isn’t a lesson for you to endure. Me being mean to you isn’t going to make you a better person or whatever.”
Dream still won't look at him, so he reaches out to lay a hand on one of his tightly clenched fists, “Dream… what are you afraid of?”
For a long moment, Dream simply stares down at where their hands are touching. Hob can feel the slightest tremor in his fingers as he slowly answers.
"Sometimes…” He falters, inhaling deeply before continuing, “Sometimes terrible things happen to good people." Here, he finally looks up to meet Hob's gaze, everything about him resigned and defeated, "You are a good person. I do not want to be the terrible thing that happens to you."
Hob feels his breath leave him like he’s been gut punched, “You’re not a ‘thing’ . You’re not terrible, either. And I’m not as good as you think I am. I think, somewhere in there, you know that.”
“Hob-”
“I’ve committed atrocities. You know that, because you talked me out of committing them for longer, and that’s just the ones you heard about. I did a lot of things between our meetings, Love. I think I’m just… younger. Maybe I haven’t had the time to make a list as long as yours, but give it time.”
“Yes, you are younger. And already you are learning from your mistakes. I am ancient. My wrongs are ancient. And only now do I seek to be better. How monstrous would it be, then, to dare feel hurt by my punishment when I have so earned it?”
“I wasn’t punishing you! Not then, not now, not ever. Dream, you’re trying, so hard, I see that. We’re both just two bad people trying to be better, and I’ll forgive you your mistakes along the way if you’ll forgive mine. But I need you to see mine, first.”
There, again, he sees the way Dream’s jaw tenses, a slight shift like he’s grinding his teeth together. Hob realizes, in that moment, that the anger is there, tightly leashed and buried under the heavy weight of shame.
Feeling brave, he reaches out to cup Dream’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb along the tense line of his jaw, “Look, I’m not asking you to storm off again. I’d actually really rather you didn’t. I appreciate that you’re trying to change and react better than before, I do , I think it’s amazing. I think you’re amazing. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset with me at all .”
Dream releases a sharp exhale through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. But he also leans a little heavier into Hob’s hand. He is slow to speak, gathering his words as well as the courage to speak them. Eventually though, he admits to Hob softly, “When you… reprimanded me, I was... Frightened. That I had managed to drive you away without even noticing,” his voice wavers and becomes impossibly softer, “That I managed to make you hate me despite my best efforts.” He swallows thickly before visibly steeling himself to continue, “And then. I was irritated, I suppose.” Opening his eyes, he looks at Hob, and there is frustration, and fear, and confusion, “I would have changed my behavior sooner had you but told me that it bothered you.”
“I know. I know you would,” Hob assures, “The truth is, it doesn’t bother me. Not usually. It was just poor timing and catching me in a bad mood.”
Humming, Dream’s expression is still wary, “I will abstain from arriving unannounced from now on.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I would rather,” Dream interrupts, “not risk catching you in a ‘bad mood’ again.” His voice is a little stronger, a little more of the frustration seeping through, more confidence building the more Hob keeps holding him through it.
Hob nods, giving him a self-deprecating smile, “That’s understandable.”
Furrowing his brows, Dream tilts his head, looking at Hob in awe, “You… truly forgive me?”
“Of course,” Hob replies with no hesitation, “I’ll always forgive you. I’m not dating your past, I’m dating you . Who you are now . Who you’re trying to be.”
Dream searches his face for a long minute, confused and suspicious and still handing his heart to Hob all the same. He nods, “I wish you had not shouted at me. And I forgive you for it.”
Hob smiles, his body sagging in relief as he leans forward to press their foreheads together, “Thank you.”
Looking at Dream, Hob gets the feeling he doesn’t truly understand. That he thinks Hob will change his mind or come to his senses, that this is just something else to get his hopes up and his guard down so it hurts more when it crumbles around him. Hob doesn’t think this one conversation will settle Dream into a balance between his pride and shame.
But they’ve got time.
And Hob’s no saint, so he’s certain there will be plenty of opportunities for them to forgive each other.