Chapter Text
Hob calls work, still holding the bottle of wine, telling them that he needs to take a leave of absence citing a family emergency. He then swiftly returns to bed, placing the bottle back on his bedside table. He lies on his side, eyes fixed on the blurry bottle. Tears clouding his vision.
He tries rather unsuccessfully not to think about Dream. Every time he does think about the other man he's torn between crying and raging. Hob plays the fight on a loop in his brain. How could he think that he would be able to stop Dream. Did Hob seriously think telling Dream that he loved him in a fit of rage was going to be enough? But Dream loved him too. He had told Hob as much. ‘Dream loves me’ he thinks ruefully and the bastard still left to go to hell.
Hob spends the rest of the day in bed staring at the bottle of wine mocking him from his bedside table. The idea of smashing it to pieces is still very tempting, but he can't. It's the only proof of Dream, and his love in some twisted way. He thinks of the time they spent together, and then of Dream’s siblings. He wonders if he has entered Despair’s realm, he's been there before at the hands of Dream. The night he left Hob in the rain in 1889 and the day he spent waiting in 1989. Those days don't compare to this though.
The next day is spent in a similar fashion. And the day after. The next is spent raiding the cupboard he keeps his alcohol in. He can't bear to drink the wine he was given. It's probably gone bad by now, left to sit opened and will be left undrunk until the end of time. Hob is drunk by midday sitting on his sofa staring angrily at the shelves holding his records and books. If Hob was being dramatic he would say that he never wished to see any of it again, but he holds Rubber Soul in his hands thinking about the evening they spent listening to it and then puts it on the coffee table to take a long sip of his drink.
“Bastard.” he says to nothing in particular and finishes his almost empty glass with one big gulp. The day drags on slowly and his vision becomes kaleidoscopic. He thinks he can hear mumbling as the afternoon draws into evening.
“Oh Dreamy is an idiot.” he can hear the voice say and he can’t disagree.
“Yes he is.” he sighs. Good god Dream has driven him crazy. He’s talking to voices.
“You’re not crazy.” the voice replies. “Just… a tad delirious.” Delirious. Doesn't Dream have a sister…?
“Yes! It's me!” Delirium exclaimed excitedly “it's been soooo long since we've seen each other. Or since I've seen you. You never see me but I'm always there.” she sings the last part, suddenly there is a pop of colour like someone has thrown coloured dust. A woman stands in the middle of his living room in what can only be described as an explosion of Vivienne Westwood.
“Hi.” she says, giving him a wave. Hob rubs his eyes. He still isn't used to things just appearing out of nowhere.
“Hello”
“Wow. No wonder Dream likes this place, it's very homey.” she says flinging herself onto the sofa and somewhat on top of Hob. “much cozier than Dreamy’s castle. I haven't been there in ages but it's all so grey. I hate grey, it's boring. Do you hate grey?”
“Sometimes. But a grey sky is nice sometimes. Especially after rain because you can see rainbows.” Why can't he stop himself from talking? Probably because he’s drunk he tells himself.
“I hadn't thought of that! Oh I love rainbows.” she sighs and Hob can tell she loves rainbows by the coloured streaks in her messy hair. “There should be more rainbows with different colours. Like pink or aquamarine. But not grey rainbows. Definitely not grey rainbows.” She begins humming to herself and Hob can't take his eyes off of her. She is the antithesis of Dream, talkative, bubbly and so bright. Not that Dream can't be bright. The small smiles that he had started to show were blindingly bright to Hob.
“I’m going to find my brother. Do you want to help me?” she then asks
“Dream’s in hell.” Hob replies forlornly.
“Not that brother, silly. Destruction. I miss him. Do you know how it feels to realllllyyyyy miss someone?”
“Yes.”
“Is it Dream you miss?”
“Yes.” There are so many people that Hob misses, but he thinks this may be worse because all those other people are dead. Dream isn't dead, he's just a head strong bastard.
“Even though he can be a bit stupid and that his house is grey?”
“Even though his house is grey.” he says with a smile. He understands why Dream loves this sister so much. Hob bets she can make him smile too.
“Sooo, do you want to help me? I bet you're really good at finding lost things. You found Dream’s smile and I thought that was lost forever.” Her heterochromic eyes staring into his eyes with determination “I asked Despair and Desire and they both said ‘no Delirium I have stuff to do and the Prodigal doesn't want to be found’. They didn't even care that I had made a list. Do you want to see my list?”
“Sure.” because what else has Hob got to lose? From one of the many pockets in her pinstriped coat she pulls an envelope and shoves it into Hob’s hands. The words scribbled rather childlike swim on the envelope, not managing to stay still long enough for him to read. “Looks like you've done your research.”
“Yep!” she says proudly popping her p.
“Can I think about it and let you know in the morning?” he's too drunk to be making decisions right now.
“Ok. But can I stay here? It's just so nice.” Once again what has Hob got to lose by agreeing to let Dream’s sister stay the night.
“Of course you can. There is a guest room you can use.” and with that she gets up and walks down the hallway.