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nosferwatu · 4 months

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(for @mure-sauvage)

The problem, Hob has recently discovered, is that Dream’s one talent is writing great fucking ballads.

It’s bad already to miss your best friend with all the power conceded to a broken heart, but hearing Dream’s soft, deep voice on the radio is too much. It’s torture, it’s sweet opium to avoid missing Dream for one fucking second.

A memory, Dream languidly removing the cigarette from his lips, all his movements slow and sloppy -yet calculated- from alcohol: “I imagine your internal monologue to be very fascinating, Hob Gadling.”

My internal monologue is swearing, Dream. It’s in shambles. Hope you’re happy.

Who the fuck says something so idiotic to their best friend?

The something idiotic —their usual pub, Dream melancholic after a bad day in the studio, he later hugged Hob goodbye—: "Your mind is incredible. You are the only constant in a life too fixed on a single course that doesn’t make me want to sleep forever."

The something idiotic —with Hob in Dream’s uselessly large flat, the cats staring at him as if they knew already about his pathetic crush—: "How are you so good at living? Sometimes I think you must be crazy, to keep up so well with whatever the world throws at you."

Dream said so many things to him, about him, most strange and incomprehensible but bursting with feeling, Hob fails to remember them all. It's a tragedy, considering that after he confessed and was rejected, badly, he won't have any more of their syrupy slow conversations to fill the gaps in his memory.

Small mercies: just after the Debacle, the Ruination, the Utmost Stupidity by one Hob Gadling, after 'Dream, why did we never go on that date when we first met?', Dream started his big world tour, the one which earned him endless sleepless nights of pure anxiety since its inception.

Hob supposedly has all the time to get over Dream, yet the fucker can’t leave him alone to lick his wounds.

Dream released 'Endless' out of the blue. It shook the world and earned him a bunch of sold out shows, plus an endless crowd of tik tok youngsters devoting their life to make sad edits with the song bridge. You can't go around anywhere without hearing Dream's voice crooning about an endless loneliness taking over his life.

The trick is all in the bridge: it transforms the song from a simple Dream-like ballad about the lack of meaning of life without a true purpose, to the first track of his 'Greatest Hits' compilation that will be released thirty years from now. The song stops in its moping tracks and the listener hears a soft click of a door opening, and Dream's even softer exhale, and a murmur, and then Dream's voice, impossibly relieved:

but it's you, oh it's you... after my endless nights of watching...

The relief, the surprise and hope and desperate longing transmitted by Dream's voice is a knife to Hob's poor, beaten up heart.

Tonight the situation is worse than usual. Rose, who is Hob's friend more than Dream's, though Hob doesn't want Dream to be left alone in the friend-divorce, sent him a text of.... encouragement: "Don't do it."

Cryptic. Hob typically does. He won't, however, submit himself to the tragedy of watching Dream in his first live at a famous talkshow that is coincidentally Hob's favourite. Hob is a businessman, but he'd love trying out the celebrity shtick just to be invited to sit on that plush couch and answer questions about himself.

Dream is supposed to perform 'Endless' in less than ten minutes. The radio Hob turned on to distract himself is also playing 'Endless', in three different stations. Everything about today is designed to remind Hob of the day Dream answered: "We didn't go out on a date because neither of us wanted to. I thank my sister every day for having you as my friend."

[-12349 heart damage. Hob left in puddle of self-loathing, critical condition.]

Now, Hob remembers Dream calling him: "A wonderful mess of contradictions." It was early in their friendship, when Hob was still with one foot in the less than legal world and Dream’s career was just starting to exit the indie sphere. Many things have changed since that first night at the pub —Death had a deal for Hob, and no one refuses her—, but if anything the contradictions have increased in number. That's why, against everyone's better judgement, Hob turns on the telly just in time to see Dream strut on stage wearing the emo-yet-sparkly version of his signature long, luxurious black coat.

His other distinct traits are the aggressively emo eyeliner and a dark cloud of hair that goes everywhere, but thankfully not falling in front of his eyes like it did on the cover of his debut album —hilarious, Dream was way too young to be left in charge of his styling.

God, Hob misses making fun of Dream’s awful photoshoots. Like that album Dream performed only wearing a weird bug mask that made his eyes look enormous. The memes were effervescent.

Tonight there’d be nothing to make fun of: the outfit is stylish, the makeup makes Dream’s stare more piercing than usual, his lips look very kissable and pink. The set replicates the porch of a small house with a white door, golden light coming from the windows to cast Dream’s sharp angular face in soft curves.

He sings… like his heart has been reduced to shards and everything he’s ever known has been taken away from him one too many times. So, like a typical Dream Thursday.

Hob can’t look away. He’s alone in his big ass flat bought with dirty money from a past only Dream and a handful of people know, a bottle of wine pitifully keeps him company, and he’s watching his best friend perform a song about falling in love with someone who isn’t him.

Hob does fuck up. Rose will have his head with the thousandth ‘Told you so’ of their friendship.

He can’t understand why Dream acts so heartbroken. He’s hugging the microphone stand like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s always been thin, but this Dream looks unreal, a whisper of smoke, a vision in the corner of one’s eye ready to disappear.

Hob can’t know why Dream acts so sad. They haven’t spoken in months, ever since Dream started touring and didn’t even tell Hob goodbye.

The Dream on the screen reaches the part just before climax of the song with unshed tears in his eyes. He opens the door of fake house after knocking on it, golden light hides part of his expression. He says, in the lull before the music starts again for the famous bridge: “I imagine your internal monologue to be very fascinating, darling. No, I haven’t drunk too much. I promise.”

The pre recorded track produces a distorted voice coming from inside the house, asking what’s he doing here, and Dream shrugs. Brings the microphone to his lips.

“It’s just you, oh it’s you, after my endless nights of watching…”

He sings, as if he didn’t just plagiarise his conversation with Hob, the most romantic song of the year and maybe of the decade.

“What feels like tears and memories, all we have, I wish there could be more… more conversations, more times I found you already sitting there… saying you were waiting for me… to let go, to let it be.”

Hob feels hot and cold all over. It’s the thrill of a possibly deadly job awaiting him, the deep gulf of terror in front of a new challenge, the unquenchable, desperate, stubborn hope that his daydreams were actually right for once in his life.

He always thought Dream was the only person in his life to genuinely need him. Not the healthiest sentiment, but a desperate, true one. Who will go to the pub with Dream every week, if not him? Who will accept his random hugs once every blue moon without asking questions? Who will not even blink when Dream says something idiotic like: ‘I have loved every moment spent with you. I haven’t drunk too much, I promise’ ?

Hob was right. Dream and him are best friends, maybe something more.

The screen of his phone lights up with a message from Dream’s producer and co-songwriter, Lucienne.

Have you watched the performance?

He types, liar to the world till the end: No

There is no use in playing this game.

Hob wonders which of the two best friend started talking in half-riddles, half-threats, and the other simply followed. Maybe some of Dream's speech patterns were inherited from Lucienne. He can't know, he has never seen the two in the same room. Lucienne is like Dream's shadow in Hob's eyes, always following his footsteps, fixing his messes.

Lucienne was the one who told him Dream was already on his way to the first step of his tour. He knows she has no fault in this, but she is currently not on the list of Hob's favourite people. Thankfully, he can be mature.

Hob is an idiot, but he's trying. she writes.

TO WHAT? TO MAKE ME SUFFER?

Keyword being 'maturity'.

To explain.

does he need you as an interpreter?

Well he doesn't have you anymore for that

Hob remains silent and still until Lucienne is not online anymore.

"Fuck, she's good," he has to admit out loud. "That would have been a great lyric."

***

Dream's tour is coming to an end. Everything about it –the crew, the outfit, the bus– has been turned into something worn and familiar, tired and soft at the edges. Dream marvels at the way he has settled into the tour routine without even noticing it, when before the first date the mere thought of leaving home and Hob sent him into a deep-bone, barely hidden panic.

He misses Hob with a strength he didn't know he could possess. Every performance of 'Endless' instead of exorcising the memory of Hob from his mind makes the longing sharper, deeper. Dream hasn't smoked so much since debut, and the stage outfits have been modified to disguise his small but noticeable weight loss. If not for Lucienne, he would have stopped taking care of himself well, because the truth is that Dream needs Hob in a very purposeful way. He wants to have Hob around, he wants to need him.

God, Death was right when she said none of them know how to love in moderation.

'I thank Death every day for being your friend.', he remembers telling Hob. Apparently that was enough to scare him off.

He takes a sip from his water, shakes his head. He needs to focus. The tour is not going to end itself, and this performance will be recorded. Netflix wants to publish a documentary about the tour and the new single, and Dream has to start saying 'yes' to his new major label before they return him back where he came from. (Desire would laugh themselves to death if that happened.)

The documentary is a good compromise. What could possibly go wrong?

***

Hob sees the moment Dream finds his face in the crowd, and also the moment Dream decides he's going to have his first scandal as a big player in the music industry.

The fucker, also known as Dream, also known as Hob's ex-best friend, dressed in a long monstrosity of black plumes and red leather that somehow works, simply stops walking. He sees Hob in the crowd and he stops. walking. The stage is big enough despite the building not being an arena, but Dream... doesn't move from his place. Stares at Hob while he sings. Lets the lights converge on him until the crowd notices that something is going on and screams even louder.

Hob can feel the eyes of the crowd moving from person to person until they realise Dream is looking at Hob, in one of the highest sections. The girls sitting next to Hob on the nosebleed seats (he found the tickets last minute) realise what's going on a moment too late, and Hob has never wanted to disappear more than when one of the girl says: "Dude, Dream has the hots for you?"

Dream ends the song, a b-side from his debut that only a third of the audience knew entirely, and Hob understand in that moment that he is fucked.

"Hob Gadling," Dream says, his deep voice echoing in the theatre. "I wrote this song for you. Did you know that?"

The crowd is partially shell-shocked, partially in hysterics. There is no way Dream can hear or see Hob's answer, so Hob can't do much but hope his presence is answer enough.

Rose was right. She texted him: Whatever you think you should do, don't. please learn to communicate like a normal person, since dream clearly can't., and Hob thought he had it all figured out. He was going to wait for Dream's last performance and then go talk to him backstage. It was a solid plan, however he did not consider the fact that Dream is the type of person who writes ballads for his crushes.

He is the type of person who performs ballads for his crushes. Sometimes on national television.

The first notes of 'Endless' start playing, the crowd goes wild, and Hob understands this is how they'll get together. This is the big anecdote they'll tell their friends for years and years until everyone is sick of it. This is the story Lucienne will include in her best man's speech. There is no escape. People will play 'Endless' at their wedding, and it's already too late for Hob to admit he kind of overplayed the song and now hates it a little. He'll lie to his grave saying 'Endless' is his favourite Dream and all-time song.

(Lie: his favourite Dream song is the opening of the Bug Mask album, performed entirely without lyrics while Dream shows off his talent for performance art. The memes, man, the memes.)

This is how it's going to be. He can only let it happen.

After all, Dream writes great fucking ballads.

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