Limitations in Observations / Dreamnotfound

Epilouge

Sapnap's POV

   The city paid for a funeral. A lot more people showed up than you expected. Someone were deceived and assumed it was wrong. Many people believed this wasn't Dream.

   "No one could actually scoop their eyes out."

   I guess I'm the only one who's 100% sure. The casket was open, but you couldn't tell he didn't have eyes. I thought he was just sleeping. When people saw me there it convinced more people.

   "He knew the killer?" Whispers surrounded the church.

   "He was best friends with him." I would turn over occasionally and people would drop it. I think more people were intrigued that there was a serial killer.

   "Dream really deceived us all. I mean he said good morning to me at the local café on Tuesday's." I hear someone defend.

   I still stare at the casket. I'm waiting for my best friend to wake up. I'm waiting for him to tell me he would never do this over a boy. George's funeral was today as well, but he was flown back to England. I hear they had to sculpt his face. The explosion from the gun broke his jaw and teeth. His tongue with no where to go was bloody and hanging out of his mouth. He was unrecognizable. There's a rumor that the police gave his family his jar of eyeballs but I don't even know if that's true.

   Reporters flocked both funerals. I was a common person to come up to once it came around. I never spoke. I was too pissed. I might've said something wrong.

   After awhile many people left. It's not as interesting anymore, and no one thought it right to grieve a killer. No one thought it was right to spit on his grave yet either. There were only a few people in the room as the burial was about to begin.

   "I got your letter and your tape." I act as if he can hear me. "You're fucking stupid. You didn't even tell me." Finally tears start to prick at my eyes, "Maybe we could've done it together." I whisper so no one hears. "I at least could've made it less painful to you." I push my lips together, "I know you didn't want to hurt me too, but this is the worst thing you could've done." A tear falls. "You're right though. I wouldn't have left. I have someone. I'll get through this, but I'll miss you. I always thought you'd be there. I'd always be able to talk to you. I'm angry with you. Next time I see you I'm beating your ass." I wipe my tears. "I'll miss you." Before I can go on I feel arms wrap around me from behind.

   "I'm sorry. It'll be okay." Karl tells me.

   "Thank you." I wipe my tears away and turn to face him. He gives me a small smile.

   The pastor announces that they will now be leaving to bury him. The Paul bearers were volunteers. Most of them didn't believe he did it and still had respect.

   "Goodbye." I tell my best friend as I squeeze his hand for the very last time.

   I turn around and leave with Karl. A building is much harder to get into than the outside and I want to avoid reporters. I'll visit his grave another time but now is not the time. So me and Karl headed to my house.

   "I'm proud of you." Karl said as he snuggled closer to me as we lie on bed.

   "I just went to a funeral." I ignore his compliment.

   "But it was your best friend." He sighed, "Not only that he was- he is someone people are going to talk bad about, and you didn't even know." I blow air out of my nose as a laugh. I get a questionable look, but he doesn't push.

   "Thank you for coming with me." I rub his back as he cuddles closer to me.

   "I'll always be there for you." He shuts his eyes. The funeral was early, so he must be tired.

   "Karl?" He hums, "Do you ever feel like you're not done? Like you didn't help as much as you could?"

   "What's this about?" He lefts his head up and straddles me.

   "I just have a lot on my mind." He cups my cheeks with both of his hands.

   "Focus on the future. Whatever project isn't done I'll help you if you want it finished."

   "What if it can't be finished?" I hold the back of his knees.

   "Then it might be best to forget about it." He smiles at me.

   What if I can't? I ask myself in my head.

    Instead of worrying about it I try and relax. It isn't much of a problem as Karl doesn't let me worry about it.

   A couple days later. We left flowers at Clay's grave. The city didn't pay for anything but the bare minimum. Saying his name, birth date, death date, and that he was a loving brother, son, and friend. It doesn't feel real not seeing him there. His grave was already getting scratched and egged. I wiped off as much as I could with my bare hands. Me and Karl left and I decided he was right.

   I will leave a project unfinished. That is impossible to be finished. Forever unfinished. The project dying with the creator. Dream killed more than he meant to. He was more than a serial killer. He was a dream killer.