Chapter Text
Throughout it all, I couldn't help but wonder about Schlatt’s tale of the unicorn. After I had left Fenborne, I did some research into tales surrounding the mythical beast and found a few interesting pieces of note, particularly ones to do with curses like that I had heard in the town. The idea of a unicorn cursing whomever kills it is an unexpectedly new piece of media popularised in the early 2000’s, but its exact origins are unknown. The general idea behind it is that someone kills the unicorn intentionally and brings a curse upon the community they come from, but it begs a simple question; Why did Schlatt cite this to be the curse causing the town’s problems?
Louisiana has never been particularly well known for creature myths, and what ones that there are typically involve swamp creatures and ghostly apparitions, but this one involving the unicorn is intriguing to me specifically because it seems so… unexpected. A typically European myth in an isolated southern-USA town, and by all accounts, other than evidence of a physical unicorn being killed, it appears to have held true.
.
In the end, Dream didn't need to tell anyone.
Someone was trawling the shallow waters around Dulac, exploring new areas in the hope of finding an untapped crab den or crawfish swarm when the net had gotten stuck. The trawl net was stuck and something had been unearthed from the hidden depths. Through the silt and the heavy algae marking the box’s sides, the man who had pulled it out thought it was only junk, but brought it to shore to show his friend, fishing for catfish with a pogey on the line. Welded shut, they used a screwdriver to pry a damaged side of the box apart.
Forensics showed that she had already been dead, shot possibly, which lined up with the blood found by the family in the front yard after Smith had gone missing. It seemed like a rush job, like White hadn't intended to dispose of the body in that way, or create one at all, but still the job was done. After the five years buried in water, all that was left of her were her bones and the clothes she had been wearing – jeans, light-up sneakers, and a ‘My Little Pony’ t-shirt. White, contrary to what misinformation Sapnap had told George, was indeed already dead.
Dream read the newspaper article with interest, seeing how George had praised it and how he had managed to manipulate certain things, and even after his confession to Sapnap and Eret, as one last parting act of kindness, they kept their mouths shut. There was no further mention of Dream’s involvement with White, not in police statements, George’s story, or the initial news articles when the body had been found.
He drew back from the laptop, the steaming cup of coffee held in both of his dirty hands, and he finally looked up at George and nodded with an impressed expression and nod.
“Yeah,” he said, “I think you got it.”
“I sure hope so,” George laughed slightly, and Dream stood up from the dining room table to go wash his hands, “it’s been a rough day. My editor was really riding me to include more, but there was only so much I could do, you know?”
“Did he not like the footage?”
“He loved the ones of you, not so much me turning the camera off though. I told him it was to do with your treatment in the interrogation room, and you talked about your family so you didn't want it on camera.”
Dream nodded, finished rinsing his hands, and George passed over the towel so that he could dry them. George’s home wasn't as humid as Dream’s house out on the water, and so his hair wasn't as chaotic as it was before, although it did seem longer, but his skin was just as tanned as before. The fishery on the lake near to George’s house had been looking for people, and George thanked whatever god made him read that edition of the paper, including the job adverts, before it went out to the public. The sun had set outside now, and even with the more urban noise which shook the room in comparison to the nightly insect orchestra on the bayou, Dream hadn't mentioned missing home once. George found it within him to ask.
“Do you miss it?”
Dream chuckled slightly, almost awkward, and he leant his hip against the counter as his eyes moved across the room. Their silence was unbroken, not even by the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional car outside, but then Dream spoke again.
“I do,” Dream said, “I miss it a lot, but sometimes… Sometimes I think of the insomnia, the nights where my only company was my email address and whoever messaged me, and… and my time out on the dock wondering what went wrong, and I don't miss all of it. Sure there’s the house, the different places in town, and Ranboo and everyone else. It was my home you know? But it seemed like a lot of things out there wanted to unhome me.”
Dream leaned against the counter too, his faded jeans and colour-of-swamp-water Polo shirt looked awful in the synthetic light and before he could respond George was already flicking the switch off. They were submerged in darkness now, only illuminated by the streetlights outside and the leftover light from the living room, but to George it was worth it for the way Dream’s eyes almost glowed in the dark.
They stood together in silence. George didn't speak before Dream continued.
“I miss how it was before, that place I can never get back. I miss just being a dumb sixteen-year-old who walked barefoot on the boardwalk and got sunburn on my shoulders, and I miss hanging out with Sapnap, and honestly, I miss living in ignorance. It was so much easier when I knew nothing, when I thought I was as old as any other adult. I look at the other kids in that town, at Tommy and Tubbo, at anyone, and I just… I don't know what to think.”
“It’s delicate.”
“It is. I wonder what’ll happen. I hope, for their sake, it gets better.”
“Well,” George said, looking at the window and the streetlight outside it, “The kid’s been found. In Dulac, too. Might take the spotlight off for a bit.”
“And thank god for that,” Dream sighed, “Maybe I’ll sleep better now. No more fear about everything going on. Sapnap really saved my skin by keeping quiet, but it’s not like any of us would gain anything from speaking up.”
“I meant it, like, the box wasn't in Fenborne. Everyone thought White brought her back home before killing her properly. Maybe the infamy will wear off, a bit.”
“And he was from New Orleans.”
“That’s true. He just happened to appear in town and mess things up.”
They stood together in silence, and Dream went to pick up his cup of coffee from the table again. Wordlessly, George moved into the hallway, and then into the bedroom at the end of the hall. There was a moment where George undressed, and he could hear Dream shut the lid of the laptop before he moved to follow George into the bedroom.
“You’re in there already?” Dream asked when he came in, but George just pulled the covers over his head instead of responding. Dream chuckled, putting his coffee on the bedside table and pulling off the jeans, shirt, before getting into bed too.
They were quiet for about a second before George spoke up again.
“Is this better?”
“What?”
“Just… this. Being away from it all. You mentioned missing Fenborne, and everyone, well, basically everyone you’ve ever known, and I feel sort of bad after asking you if you wanted you to come with me.”
“But I said yes?”
“You did.”
Dream huffed out a laugh, turning over in the bed so that he could put a hand on George’s stomach.
“I think it’ll get better over there,” Dream said as he closed his eyes, “I got a letter from Tubbo, an actual hand-written one.”
“You didn't say.”
“I am now. It came earlier. Anyway, he was talking about how he and Tommy were thinking about getting some of the land off the side of the cemetery, about how they were expanding their shop. He also said that the ‘Old Star’ has got better business now. I think people want to see what it’s all about down there.”
“Huh,” George said, putting his hand over Dream’s, “It’s only about an hour and a half from there to New Orleans, right?”
“Maybe a bit more, but not much.”
“I guess people are getting over their fear of the unknown then. I don't think my work will have anything to do with it.”
“Don't sell yourself short. Maybe a few people took a trip, who knows?”
George watched Dream’s face, the serenity and stillness of it as he closed his eyes, and he thought about how Dream left it all behind. Everything he owned, aside from some of what little furniture he had, fitted easily into George’s car when they’d left early on that Monday morning. While George hadn't been sad to go, his heart still twinged when he watched Dream and Ranboo hug their goodbyes. They’d known each other for years, and the tears on Ranboo’s unmasked face proved it, but Dream still managed to smile at George through the tears. Maybe Ranboo would be looking to get out of there, too. Maybe the fishery that hired Dream was looking for boat repairs or something.
“What are you thinking about?” Dream asked with a smile when he opened his eyes again “the next deadline, the terrible coffee, the loud neighbours?”
“You,” George said, but before Dream’s smile could get too wide, he amended it. “And Ranboo.”
“Huh?”
“Ranboo. I mean… we have a spare bedroom?”
“You think he’ll want to move out here?”
“Or, or he could visit?”
“You want to adopt him,” Dream said, and George saw his cheek move as he smiled.
He blew out a breath, “What? No, it’s just… He was nice.”
Through the gloom Dream’s face turned slightly to the side, “Uh-huh.”
“Shut up, he was! It’s just… Fenborne…”
“I think I get you,” Dream interrupted him, “It feels pretty dead, huh?”
“Yeah. I didn't want to say it, but yeah.”
“I get you. Maybe we’ll invite him, I’ll mention a vacancy at the engineering shop near my work, and, well, it’ll be good to see him again.”
“See, that’s what I meant to say.”
“Why, do you miss him?”
“No,” George stated, looking at him, “I was worried you would.”
Dream took a sip of his coffee from earlier and put it back onto the bedside table, and he turned back to George.
“Yeah, I do. Maybe we should invite him up, see if everything back there is good.”
“Maybe.”
Dream looked at him, a slight smile on his face.
“Maybe.”
George’s eyes smiled behind the sheet. His mouth was invisible.
“Maybe.”