Chapter Text
Things slipped back into a tentative schedule again. As promised, Dream’s mom came by two days later to drop off Patches, and shortly after Bad drove back home to get some more of his things and finalize things with his roommate.
Bad had also tried to double down on his detective work, but as expected everyone was as elusive as ever. L only showed up one other time to make them both a meal, and Dream was still adamant that it was just stress (though he did buy another carbon monoxide test and agreed to at least consider another doctor’s appointment).
Bad would always try to broach the subject, catching Dream’s attention whenever the other man wasn’t busy.
“Has this memory stuff ever happened before?” Bad would ask, trying to make a mental tally in his mind of what Dream’s history of symptoms was.
Dream’s shoulders would always hunch, and something would flash in his eyes before he would shrug and look away. “Nope, first time.”
It was so blatantly clear that Dream was keeping something from him, whether it be actual repeated instances of memory loss or just the fear of said instances. Either way, Bad wished his friend would actually talk to him about it.
The only real “lead” he had was with Taken, who he’d gotten a lot closer to over the past few days.
He would bounce down the stairs between 10 and 10:30pm almost every night without fail and plop himself down on the couch. He and Bad would chat–usually about Bad’s day–as Taken pet Patches before Bad would come over and they would watch a movie together. It had become an expected activity between the two of them, and Bad found himself enjoying the tender moments that they shared.
Bad didn’t want to stress Taken out too much–especially not after seeing how uncomfortable he had gotten the first few times he’d tried to push for information–but it was getting a bit ridiculous.
On the third night after he’d gotten back from his brief trip to his apartment, Bad found himself on the couch next to Taken; one of the Spider-Man movies on the TV and a bowl of popcorn between the two of them. Taken was fully engrossed in the film, and usually Bad would be too, but today it felt a bit harder to concentrate on anything.
“Taken,” Bad asked hesitantly, drawing the other’s attention away from the screen. He seemed to sense that Bad wanted to talk about something important, since he quickly grabbed the remote and turned the volume on the TV down a few notches.
Bad licked his lips anxiously, feeling a lot more awkward now that he was actually about to have the conversation he’d been thinking about. “I know Dream hasn’t really… He’s been really elusive about it, and I’m pretty sure he’s lying, right? But I’ve asked him a few times if this whole memory thing… And I'm guessing that means you and L, right? I asked him if it’s happened before, and he keeps saying no, but he’s always so suspicious about the way he says it. So…”
A chuckle cut him off, and Bad stopped his rambling to look up at Taken, whose shoulders were shaking a little in laughter. “You’re so nervous, Bad!” He said after he’d finished giggling a bit. “I’m… There’s stuff I can’t talk about because I don’t want L to get mad at me, but… I don’t think you’re going to do anything bad.” He huffed a little, leaning further back into the couch. “Plus, I think that if you were going to tell Dream, you would’ve done so by now.”
Bad nodded. “Right,” he mumbled. “I… You guys seem to know more than me, so I figured…”
“We do know what we’re doing. Kinda.” Taken gave him an awkward grin. “I’m mostly just… Here. L is… Mostly who runs things behind the scenes right now.”
“Right now?” Taken hummed, a bit of tension slipping into his shoulders. Bad backpedaled quickly. “You don’t have to explain anything!!” He burst out. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything…”
“I appreciate it,” Taken said, the genuineness in his tone catching Bad off guard a bit. “I know Dream isn’t… He isn’t the kind of guy who wants to think about what's going on. He reacts, then he moves on, and that kinda puts cleanup on everyone else.” His face soured a bit. “There’s more to it than that, of course, but we just don’t want him doing anything rash. There’s barely a chance he’ll actually listen to us– or you, for that matter.”
Bad pursed his lips a bit before nodding. If Taken and L were to be considered ‘guilty’ by Dream, then so would he.
“I will say that this–” Taken gestured vaguely at himself– “has been going on longer than Dream would like to admit. Honestly if it hadn’t been for the notes, he probably wouldn’t even know.”
“Why did you start with the notes?” Bad asked, curiosity heavy in his tone as he leaned forward slightly.
Taken’s face grimaced slightly. “It was kind of a group decision. I was all for it because… Well, who wouldn’t want a bit of independence, right?” He laughed a bit, before grimacing again. “We wanted to see how Dream would react to a line of communication, mostly.”
“How do you think it went?” Bad asked after a small stretch of silence.
Taken looked at him with a deadpan expression. “How do you think?” He asked, a small smile quirking up at the corner of his mouth. “If it went well, do you think you’d even be here?”
Bad laughed. “That’s fair! I’m glad I am though.”
“I’m glad you are too,” Taken said, his voice a lot quieter than it had been before. “L is happy about it too, even if they won’t say anything. It’s nice, though, to have someone else here to help out.”
“Of course,” Bad said kindly. He wasn’t about to let his friends–Dream and now Taken, and L as well to an extent–sink into despair in their home.
The last thing he wanted was to make the tension and stress that was already so palpable worse . Besides, sometimes it really did feel like Dream needed someone to take care of him, though he supposed that’s what L was partially doing by cooking and buying groceries. Even Taken did his part, essentially being the one to take breaks during the evening after Dream worked himself for nearly 10 hours straight.
A thought popped into Bad’s mind, or more like a theory that had been forming since he’d first met Taken.
“You… You don't have to answer this,” Bad started, bringing Taken’s attention back from the movie. “But I wanted to ask: how old are you? I… I figured the same as Dream, right? But I’m…” He trailed off, watching Taken’s(?) face carefully.
He looked at Bad, a calculating expression on his face that stayed there for a few moments before he relaxed slightly. “I don’t really see much… Harm in it or anything.” He shrugged. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to tell exactly, since I don’t exactly have a birthday.”
“You don’t?” Bad said. “Sorry, I don’t really know how… This works.” Whatever ‘this’ was.
“Nope,” Taken said. “I’m… Roughly 17, I think? Somewhere between 16 and 18, but… I can’t say for sure.” There was something in his tone and his body language that screamed insecurity as he spoke.
Bad sat in silence for a bit, digesting the information he’d just gotten. It made sense that Taken was younger, since he acted a lot more juvenile. It wasn’t explicit–honestly if the boy had said he was 20, Bad would have believed him–but it was smaller things: like the way he moved, the way he sat, the way he spoke; they all had an odd jerkiness and an ever-present awkwardness that really only seemed prevalent in teenagers.
He wasn't exactly sure how aging worked for Taken, but that would be a bridge he could cross later.
“Thanks for telling me,” Bad said with a smile. “And thanks for answering my questions; I know there’s not a lot you can or want to say, but I appreciate what you did let me know.”
“Of course,” Taken said, puffing up a bit. Now that Bad knew he was a teenager, he really couldn’t unsee it in the other’s body language. The way he preened under praise and shrank away from the possibility of criticism– it made a lot more sense now.
They sat for a bit, enjoying the cozy atmosphere and muted sounds of the movie, before Taken reached over and turned the volume back up. The rest of the night was uneventful, and Bad picked up the now-empty popcorn bowl once the credits started rolling.
He smiled as Taken whispered a small “thanks” to him as the boy made his way back to his room for the night.