Chapter Text
Morpheus gives Hob his number before he leaves the White Horse, well after midnight that night. By the time he gets in a taxi home, he feels as though he has run a marathon. His chest is tight, his body aches. He is reeling from the shock of leaving Cor and the pleasure of seeing Hob again, reeling from them both in equal measure but in such very different ways, and the result is a feeling of being utterly, completely wrung out.
His flat in Chelsea is quiet when he returns. He breathes a sigh of relief and slides the deadbolt into place behind him. He had half expected Cor to come here looking for him. He said the place had sold, but he would not be surprised if Cor had caught onto the lie. Perhaps he still will show up, begging for Morpheus to come back to him. It wouldn’t be the first time. After his injury, when Jessamy picked him up from A&E and took him back to hers, Cor came calling the same night, shouting through the door, saying he was sorry, that it had been an accident, pleading for Morpheus to come home. Jessamy had to call Matthew to come round and scare him off.
Morpheus doesn’t remember much of that night beyond pain medication and crying into Jessamy’s lap.
He thinks of calling her now, but it is late, and he doesn’t want to worry her. He doesn’t need to cry now, he realizes. He is not heartbroken, not confused, not grieving. When he calls her this time, it will be to apologize. To tell her Cor is out of his life for good. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, he will call Jessamy and Matthew and his siblings. And then he will call Hob Gadling.
He grins to himself. He stands alone in his empty flat. His clothes and his toiletries are all at Cor’s. His furniture and books and trinkets are in storage. The flat is quiet and empty and his, entirely his. He curls up on the window seat, drapes his jacket over himself, and falls asleep. If he dreams, he does not remember what of.
***
Thana is the first to arrive the next morning. She has brought pastries, coffee, tea, and the twins, neither of whom look pleased to be there. But, to be fair, Desdemona never looks happy to be anywhere, and Desiree decided long ago that Morpheus was to be their sworn enemy. None in the family have been able to sway them of this conviction. Thana says Morpheus could put in more of an effort, but he doesn’t see why he should be bothered.
Still, it was good of them to come, and he tells them so.
Desdemona gives him a hug. “Sorry about your boyfriend,” she mumbles into his shoulder. Desiree is glaring at her.
Morpheus pats her back. She is a heavy-set girl, partial to soft sweaters in various shades of pale pink, and she always smells of lilies. There is something about the particular combination of her warmth, her scent, her softness, and the softness of her clothes that he has always found comforting. “It is for the best,” he says.
She sighs balefully at this.
Desiree crosses their arms, leaning their long, graceful body against the wall and looking as bored as humanly possible. “I don’t see why I have to be here,” they say, inspecting hot-red lacquered fingernails that match their blindingly red catsuit.
“Because Dream is our brother and he needs us,” Thana says breezily. Having set breakfast on the kitchen counter, she sweeps over to Morpheus and kisses his cheek. There is a dusting of confectioners’ sugar on her smooth, dark skin that tells him she has already helped herself to a powdered doughnut. He licks his thumb and rubs the sugar away, and she squeals. “Euuuch, mum !”
“Your mum’s not here, is she?” comes a cheerful voice from the doorway, and then Jessamy’s head appears, looking this way and that. Her satin-smooth black hair is held back from her face today by a giant hair clip in the shape of a skeletal hand, and her signature sparkly eye makeup glints in the morning sunlight.
“No, Jessamy, you are quite safe,” Morpheus says.
She brings the rest of her body into the flat, shrugging out of her satin bomber jacket and kicking off her sequined boots. “Good. That lady is intimidating.” She wraps her arms around Morpheus' neck, pulling him in close, and he leans into the embrace. “You okay?” she whispers, so quietly he knows the others don’t hear. “Really?”
“I am. Truly.”
Pulling away, she holds him at arms’ length and grins brightly. “Brill.” She goes to greet Thana and Desdemona, pecking each of them on the cheek, and even Desiree gives her a reluctant kiss. Jessamy has that effect on people. She loves with abandon, and others cannot help but love her in return. Morpheus sometimes envies her that, but then, he has not always been discerning with where he directs his love. Today is evidence of that.
The movers arrive fifteen minutes later—Morpheus having called them first thing, offering a rather sizable bonus for same day service. Those fifteen minutes give everyone time to partake of Thana’s offerings. It is also time enough for Desdemona to read them three thoroughly depressing news stories off her mobile and for Desiree to get in a few jabs at Morpheus, but these are easier to bear with Jessamy and Thana present.
Thana takes charge handily, directing the movers firmly but kindly when they arrive, and also insisting that they stop for refreshments. She remembers where each piece of furniture resides without having to consult Morpheus, and for once, he allows his elder sister mastery of his domain. It is a relief, not to be asked questions, not to be expected to make choices, not to worry he’s made the wrong one. He has to remind himself that Cor is not here. There is no punishment for making the “wrong” choice.
Matthew arrives an hour late, looking dazed. “Oh my god,” he says as he enters the flat. “I got so lost.” Matthew is American. He has lived in London for two years now, and still cannot navigate the underground to save his life. Jessamy strides across the room and smacks him upside the head, to which he simply chuckles and rubs his neck sheepishly. Then he crosses to Morpheus and pulls him in for a tight hug. They don’t embrace often, but it does not feel awkward. It feels safe. Morpheus presses his face into Matthew’s brown curls and lets himself be held. Matthew is tall, broad, athletic. A different kind of strong to Morpheus, and he has taken on the role of Morpheus' protector more often than not, without being asked, simply because he wants to, because he cares.
“Thank you for coming,” Morpheus says.
Matthew squeezes tighter. “I missed you, buddy,” he replies.
“I’m bored,” Desiree says.
Thana rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly. Go on, then. Thanks for coming. You’ve been absolutely no help at all.”
“ Finally . Bye, Dream,” Desiree singsongs as they sling their bag over their shoulder. “Mon, are you coming?”
Desdemona shrugs. “I suppose.” She waves mildly at Morpheus as she follows her twin out the door.
The movers have finished with the furniture by then and have started on the boxes. Jessamy claps her hands excitedly. “Oooh, stuff!” She turns to Morpheus. “Can I start shelving things?”
He chuckles. “Of course.” Jessamy snatches a box cutter and gets to work. She adores things. She collects books, mugs, music boxes, commemorative plates, even buttons. Her flat is a riot of light and color, her shelves packed with odds and ends. Most of the trinkets Morpheus owns are things she has gifted him. He treasures each and every one.
Matthew is inspecting boxes. “Bro,” he says. “Where’s all your clothes?”
Morpheus stiffens. He hadn’t thought of that—the aftermath. He’d only gotten so far as the leaving. There is nothing of his at Cor’s flat that cannot be replaced, but he supposes he should collect it all. It would be wasteful not to. And he does not like the thought of his things, reminders of him , within Cor’s reach. It feels like leaving a piece of himself there, for Cor to do with as he pleases. And Cor has done more than enough of that.
He does not need to say any of this. Matthew simply nods. “I’ll make a run. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Thana says. Pulling out her wallet, she hands Matthew a handful of notes. “Take a taxi, will you? Otherwise we won’t see you again until tomorrow.”
Matthew gives her a piteous look, rather like a scolded puppy, and takes the money. He almost barrels straight into one of the movers on his way out the door, and ends up stumbling past him, his calls of “sorry, sorry, sorry!” echoing down the hall as he departs.
“That boy,” Thana says. “I swear.”
Morpheus feels an odd emptiness at his absence, and Desdemona’s, and even, he thinks, perhaps Desiree’s. He is coming to realize how alone he has felt these last months.
Thana seems to sense this. She comes up beside him and links her arm through his. “Hey, little brother.”
“Sister?”
“What are you feeling?”
He hesitates. He’s not sure. Or perhaps he is sure, but it is all too much. He feels too much. He has always felt everything so acutely. He has always feared it makes him vulnerable. “I feel…guilty,” he says finally. “For pushing all of you away.” He is aware of Jessamy listening from across the room. “And I feel…I feel ashamed.”
Thana rests her chin on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to feel either of those things.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Oh, Dream. You didn’t ask for any of this.”
He feels his throat tighten, feels the prick of tears behind his eyes. “I did, though. I called him. He came back because I called and I…I let him back in.”
“He took advantage of a moment of weakness. That’s what people like him do.”
Jessamy crosses the room to him and laces her fingers through his. “She’s right.”
“But I went back to him,” he insists. He needs this to be his fault, because if it is not, then it is out of his control. And if it is out of his control, how can he stop it from happening again?
“Yeah,” Jessamy says. “You did.”
Morpheus looks at her sharply.
“But,” she continues before he can say anything, “remember what I told you?”
“Healing is not linear.”
She kisses him on the cheek. “Yep. That’s it. You relapsed. And he got his claws back into you, and that was fucking terrible. For you, and for us. But look at you now!” She ruffles his hair. “ You left. On your own! You walked away, and you held onto the things that matter. Mainly me.”
“Oi!”
“And Thana.”
“Thank you.”
Morpheus laughs, sniffles, laughs some more. “I’m finished,” he says. “I’m not going back to him, not ever again.”
“Fucking good,” Thana says.
“But we’d still be here for you even if you did,” Jessamy adds. “You know that, right?”
“Yes,” he says, and if he lets a tear fall now, neither his sister nor his best friend remarks upon it. “And I am very, very grateful.”