wasteland - dreamnotfound

Epilogue

It had been six years since the bomb. 

Six years since everything fell apart, and only one year since Clay and George put it back together.

The world was far from perfect, of course. Despite the duo's hard work over the past twelve months, there was still a haze that blocked the stars at night, still unimaginable amounts of sand, still scorching summers that were far too hot for their liking.

But things were getting better. Across the world, there were people— survivors— everywhere who were turning back the clock, who were trying to fix it— All because of some memories. 

No one was exactly sure what had happened to the president. One day, she was answering questions and even bothering to help create a cure, the next she was gone— Without a trace.

At first, hundreds of people searched for her— But she was nowhere to be found. Eventually, most figured she had died.

So they stopped looking.

Wilbur was put in her place, and he was a wonderful leader— Finding ways to fix what she had long broke and building off of the ruins of what they called a world.

However, Bad was the one who first figured out the cure— He and the others had worked nonstop for eleven months, recipe after recipe and failure after failure.

Sapnap had gone home just after— to settle a few miles off with someone who went by the name of Karl. Neither George nor Clay knew exactly what that was about, as their friend had been quite vague.

The rest of the group had scattered across the country to settle or to continue adventuring. Tommy and Tubbo had started their own business nearby, helping Wilbur in their free time. 

And a month later, the cure was being distributed to all infected it could get to, and finally, finally things were beginning to look up.

And George and Clay were going home. 

After six years, they were finally going to go home. 

"I— Clay! Stop it!" George giggled, pushing away a laughing Clay. The blonde had been poking him nonstop, begging for the two to see the brand new trains that had begun running. 

"Please, George! I want to see them! It's been years since I've seen.. basically anything!" The taller pleads, ignoring George's protests and continuing to poke him.

The smaller groans obnoxiously, rolling his eyes to add to the dramatics. "You're so annoying. Fine, come on, let's go."

"Yes!" Clay cheers, about to pull George in the direction of the station, only to be stopped.

"Remember we have to be careful." The smaller's voice is soft.

Despite so many people helping, there are still a few who continue to follow the old president. Those few are out for blood.

"I know, love." 

George nods, ignoring his blush, and hurries to catch up with Clay.

It started as a small drizzle that was nothing out of the ordinary, a swift moment of a few water droplets before the wasteland would turn back to its normal self, an oven of dry heat. 

Or at least, it should have.

By the time the two had made it to the train tracks, the drizzle hadn't let up. The sky was growing darker with clouds.

"What the hell..?" George hummed softly, looking up at the sky in confusion. Clay smiles, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waits for the trains— With the tracks on either side of them, it feels as if he could be in a movie.

And maybe they were, because just as the two trains passed, the sound filling the air with noise and excitement, the sky opened up to a melody of pouring rain. 

The steam from the trains swirled about as the hiss of their engines and the crash of their wheels on tracks joined the orchestra, and George and Dream were in the middle of it all.

The air cooled drastically, puddles forming on the ground as sunlight peeked through the crying clouds, sending beams of honey golden drops to the water below. The world seemed to be made of pure crystal, the trains' steam swift as it twirled in breezy tendrils about.

"Holy shit— It hasn't rained like this in years, Clay!" George gasped blissfully, reaching out for each raindrop he could see.

Clay, too, was giddy with excitement, gazing up at the open sky and blinking away crystalline raindrops that clung prettily to his eyelashes. 

Sooner rather than later, both boys were soaked through, yet their eyes were bright with joy nonetheless.  

"Things.. Things are going to be okay." George exhaled in disbelief, leaning into the taller.

Clay smiled, wrapping his arms around George's waist. "They are."

~||~

At the cottage— Their home— it didn't take long to unpack all their things— Neither George or Clay had much to unpack, after all.

So they stood, safe and warm in a newly repaired home for themselves, tight in one another's embrace. Clay's hand held George's waist and head, fingers laced in fluffy brown hair, the smaller's arms latched snugly around his torso as their hearts beat in perfect sync. 

The rain tapped delicately on the windows as each soft rumble of thunder or flash of lightning made the little home tremble. 

Across the room was a small chest that was beginning to collect dust— Inside, was their weapons. On a side table lay George's clout glasses and Dream's mask, untouched.

But there was one thing that remained, shining tall and proud as it hung on the wall. 

Technoblade's sword.

It was a memory of those brutal five years, a memory of the one who may have been the real hero.

And although things weren't fixed quite yet, and although they may never be for a long time, that was okay. 

Because in this moment, whilst two once broken hearts began to mend and a world that was once a wasteland began to grow to its former beauty—

They were healing.

~||~

—

Word count: 995

it's over.

 :] 

Have a wonderful day! <3 

-Melli-