Chapter Text
In the early mornings, the fairgrounds are way less busy than they are in the evenings, with just an assortment of curious onlookers and idle walkers passing by. As he stands at the edge of it, frozen near the entrance and the sign that advertises ‘entertainment for all ages - wonders, marvels and fright for the night’ in elegant, gold letters, Eddy can’t help feeling embarrassed and out of place. He has no idea why he’s come back, and were he asked, he would stutter through a dishonest explanation that would involve intellectual curiosity and certainly not slender, bony fingers tracing the lines of his palm in the dark.
Eddy shouldn’t be there. He should be at home, in his room, studying for his final exam. He is so close to reaching his goal. But it can’t be helped. It’s like a siren’s call. He has spent two nights away, awake, thinking about it. And now that he’s come all this way…
“Listen mate, either you’re in or you’re out,” a voice calls from the booth to his left, the man eyeing him with impatience written all across his features, “you can’t very much stay there like a leek all day, people are waiting. Entry’s five shillings, cough up.”
At least part of it is a lie. Save from the couple who walked by shortly before Eddy, there is no one else around. Eddy tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, then his jacket, tries to make himself appear taller.
“Here you are,” he says with a reluctant sigh, digging in his pocket for the five shillings he’s had prepared since midnight last night - a siren call, no other way to put it.
The tents, in the light of day, look almost abandoned, much less impressive than in the dark, when the torches and lanterns are lighting the way. Eddy walks with his fingers nervously fumbling around his pocket watch - he should be studying - his eyes darting about, looking for something. Someone.
His footsteps lead him to the fortune teller’s tent, but there is a sign in front of it that says ‘closed for the afternoon - back at 5 pm’. Something catches in Eddy’s chest. He walks on, passes a small enclosure where a couple of llamas graze. The next tent announces a contortionist, but the show doesn’t start for hours. Eddy walks on. It’s strange how the carnival looks more eerie in broad daylight than at nightfall.
‘Doctor Ford’s room or wonders - come see a real mermaid skeleton’
Eddy stops. Frowns.
“Pete give you trouble at the entrance?”
He almost jumps, his heart lurching in his chest, beating in his throat. He swears he was alone just a second ago. Turns his head to the left.
“Oh, it’s you.” He tries his best to keep his voice steady, his face unaffected. He feels his ears burn red, and hopes that his hair hides it well enough.
His smile is all teeth, but in the clear light of day, he doesn’t look that threatening. Not as mysterious as the last time. Eddy tries not to look too much, but notices a spot in his eye. His teeth are sharp. Eddy wants to ask but doesn’t. The smile slowly fades, a hint of something predatory in the way just the right corner of his mouth stays up.
“Hello, Eddy,” he says very softly. Eddy’s throat constricts around his answer. He wants to ask his name, but can’t, for a moment. His head is swimming, his thoughts swirling out of control. He’s heard it before, his name, the last time he was here. He’s sure of it. But it’s hard to focus.
“Good morning…” he can breathe again, like a veil is lifting, “... Brett.”
Brett takes in a sharp breath, like he’s been kicked. His eyes - dark, swirling with something hidden - widen. “Good memory,” he says. Something shivers in his voice. “So, are you a doctor now?”
“Not just yet. One final exam. Soon.”
“Is that so?”
He’s standing entirely too close to Eddy, but there is something almost comforting to it. Like Eddy isn’t dreaming this whole thing. It’s all real, the fairground, the carnival, Brett and his pointed, unnaturally sharp teeth. All real. “You want to go in?” he asks, chin tilted towards the sign on the tent.
“It says ten shillings,” Eddy says.
Brett shrugs. “Does it?” His fingers close around Eddy’s wrist, and Eddy’s attention is drawn to his hands again, the daintiness of it, pretty and pale against the rough tweed of his jacket. “He’s not a real doctor, you know,” he whispers, secret-like, as he pulls Eddy inside the tent. “It’s just a title.”
It’s very dark, inside the tent, only a few lanterns hanging from the ceiling, swaying lightly with a non-existent breeze, creaking. They’re alone, in a maze of cabinets. Brett’s fingers are still around his wrist, and when he lets go, Eddy can feel sharp nails scrape at his skin.
“Welcome,” Brett says in a low voice, directly to Eddy’s right ear, “to doctor Ford’s cabinet of wonders.”
Eddy’s eyes scan the first display - nothing more than shiny rocks, to his disappointment, the hypnotic swirls of a giant ammonite. He turns his face right, looking for bright eyes, for a sharp smile, but he’s alone again.
“Brett?”
Brett’s voice comes from deeper in the tent, from deeper in the darkness. “Come on, come see,” he calls, and Eddy moves forward. A siren…
He passes near jars filled with formaldehyde, frozen parts, difformed under the lantern light, a strange picture of a man seated, enveloped by white glow, two hands near his face, another of a kangaroo that seems suspended in the air. There’s no one else in here. Just him and this man with sharp teeth who moves entirely too silently.
“It’s fake,” Eddy whispers, almost disappointed at the skeleton that hangs in front of them, half a dolphin skeleton clumsily attached to it. Of course it’s fake. “Mermaids don’t exist.”
Brett presses to his side, warm, and Eddy shudders. “Oh? They don’t? Tell me then, doctor Chen, how do you decide if a creature is real or not?” he asks.
“I - I’m not a real doctor either,” Eddy says softly. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever.
Slender fingers twine round his. “I know. And now you’re coming with us, aren’t you?”