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“Want anything specific?” Punz asked, their hands hovering over his shoulders, not yet touching him. Dream appreciated that. He knew what they were doing, he had agreed to this, but he still didn’t want anyone touching him more than absolutely necessary.

“Just anything that keeps it out of my eyes.” Yeah, that worked. Dream thought of large hands running through his hair, separating the strands, weaving them back together, laughter, old stories about Greek mythology repeated in a deep dry voice, all illuminated by the orange glow of lava. Dream squeezed his eyes shut and pushed those thoughts away. He could deal with that later. He didn’t have to think about the Blade right now. He was out. He was with Punz. Everything was fine. (No, it wasn’t, Techno left him not just once but twice, had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome in the piglin hybrid’s home, had turned him out, despite everything they had gone through)

In a smaller voice, he said, “No braids, either.”

OR

Dream asks Punz to help him out with his hair and they give him a new hairstyle. There is absolutely no angst or anything. Dream is absolutely not traumatized and he is perfectly fine.