Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Warm hues from a late afternoon sky, with equally warm wind blowing through the verdant trees. Faraway always had a liking for trees; they were just about everywhere, planted in a planned or haphazard manner, depending on where you looked. It was one of the benefits of a small, sleepy town— the nearby city hardly had any trees for their folks. And for better, or for worse, even a place like this had trees, maybe for good reason.

“So, what brings you here again, Henry?”

It was a simple enough question, with most places having an easy answer to provide. A mall would bring answers of shopping or hanging out, a highschool (from whence he came) only had education in mind, and the church he soon found himself going to only had matters of faith concerned. No-brainers, most of them. The answers hardly required thought.

But, a cemetery… only brought answers he was loath to say. It might’ve been easier if he was visiting anyone.

“Oh, just the usual… stuff.” His eyes narrowed near-instinctively, almost in shame at his own response. Hesitancy attempting nonchalance, and not a great attempt at that. It was clear his companion could sense this; he could feel that well enough from the kind smile they put on.

Hero shifted nervously in his seat— the preacher was giving him an awfully sympathetic look. It was an effort to calm him down, though it did much more to unnerve him instead. The wind blew loose leaves his way, breaking the mood and giving him something else to devote his mind to. He blinked slowly as he looked around, happy for the respite. The other man chuckled at the sight.

“Nervous?” he asked.

Hero shrugged, resting his palms on his lap. He mouthed a tentative “Maybe.” In the strictest sense, he was, he had been for quite some time. It was like the night before a big exam, or the moments before an important presentation, that snippet of anxiety, of fear. In small doses, it worked well as a push, or as some motivator, to do his very best in whatever task he found himself doing. But that was a long time ago, when it still shelled out in small doses, much unlike the three years worth that peppered him in a constant barrage. “You know how it is.” he added after another moment of thought.

“I think I do,” The preacher was frank in his delivery, sincere. “the anxiety part at least. We all have our own shares of it.”

“But…?” Hero was quick on the draw to ask. He had the faintest feeling there was a hitch in the statement, some condition to it. And evidently, the preacher knew well enough to pick up on this question.

“The causes of this anxiety,” said he, “I’m not you to say I know them. There’s always some cause, but it all differs by the person.”

“Keeps us unique.” Hero quipped.

“... in a morbid way.” the man nodded. “And this is your way of venting them.” Something about the matter-of-fact tone caught Hero’s attention.

“You have your walks,” he hummed, “I have this.”

The preacher remained unmoved. “Naturally.”

“Nothing weird about it, I hope.”

“I wouldn’t say so, I just find that most people flock to close friends, or family members, when they need to vent.” The corners of his lips rose in amusement as he went on. “Not so much to members of the clergy.”

“You haven’t turned me down yet.” Not one instance in all the years he’d visited.

Silence hardly had time to fall before the response came. “The Lord is not one to turn people down. Those who work in His name can't do any less.”

“So my mom says.”

“And the Good Book too,” the man added, “if you know where to look. But, you know you don’t need me to intercede, right?”

Hero thought long and hard for a moment. “I really think you do.” he managed to say, soft as it might’ve been.

“Why so?”

“I’m not sure he’ll listen to me.”

“You’d have to do a great many things for that to happen.” he tapped his thigh in rhythmic percussion, the smile waning from his face for a moment. “Not very good things, I might add.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “That’s not the crux of the matter, I hope?”

Silence, Hero had nothing to say on the matter. He kept his lips pressed together, held taut in a thin line.

The preacher nodded, accepting of the hesitancy. “I’ve noticed you don’t go farther than this spot.” his hand knocked against the wood bench they both sat on, just a few paces from the church’s backdoor. “You’ve always wanted to talk here, but only ever right here.” he said in emphasis to the very spot they sat on.

“It’s peaceful here.” A truth, but maybe not one the preacher sought.

“So is the church proper.” he rebounded, leaving poor Hero with no other retort. “It’s an awfully morbid place to talk, even as often as I’ve been here before.” The man crossed his arms. “It's tricky, being surrounded by death, the reminder of it at least.”

“I don’t have the bravery to look it in the eye.” Hero admitted, eyes planted on the ground beneath him. “But I want to be here.”

“That’s bravery enough.” The preacher seemed keen on lifting his spirits. “It’s a start. You’ll find more of it in the long run.”

“I hope so.”

“Enough to finally peruse the back I bet.” And visit him, Hero could almost hear him adding.

“You think he’ll like it?” He thought of asking the question at least once. It tugged his mind on more than one occasion.

“You’re his friend. I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t.”

Hero winced, but said nothing further.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” The smile was completely gone from his face, replaced with something more solemn, apologetic even. “I know condolences don’t mean much by this point but, I wish I knew him better.”

“Yeah.” Hero looked behind him, eyes scanning for the granite headstone. He sighed as he found it obscured, behind vegetation, and all the other gravestones. “I think you would’ve liked him.”

“The others said as much.”

“Others?” A thinly veiled feint, Hero knew exactly who the others were.

“Your brother and his merry band.” Described like some Robin Hood figure, nestled with some of the preacher’s usual jest. “They come here quite often.”

“Good to know.” Hero mumbled.

“It’d be nice to see you join them one of these days.”

“We'll see.”

“Oh believe me,” the preacher said with remarkable pep. “I think you'll have a nice time with them.”

Hero fought the urge to shake his head, it was an unlikely outcome, but he responded all the same.

“Hard to say.” An honest answer. He wasn't always so honest.

Clear sidewalks, clean roadways, the streets of Faraway always served well for walking. They were great in any weather, rain or shine, hot or cold. Hero wasn't much of a walker himself, but he could see the benefits.

Golden hour had set in as he made his way out of the church, and on to the streets ahead. He always had a curious feeling whenever he found himself outside in those hours, always giving him something to look and marvel at. Something about the warm hue gave the town an unfamiliar edge.

Bright highlights and harsh shadow reigned, as brief as their reign might've been. It was part of the sun's final efforts to give the town some light, before it ultimately slipped over the horizon, as it always had since the beginning of days. Hero found himself resonating with that somehow; it made the impending dusk all the more imposing.

Dusk was the start of many things, darkness being the most prominent of these. It meant a decline, a deterioration, from all the brightness of the day. You'd scarce believe anything was lit up at all, much less so that it was so bright mere hours before. It could happen all so quickly, and it often did just that.

And as the years went by, the faster it all seemed to go. Days were getting shorter, and the nights seemed to stretch longer, and further into time. One of these days, he'd find himself with one hell of a long night, where the sun would be just a far off memory. That day seemed closer than he ever dreamed it to be.

It was hard to shake away the thought, try as he might. It was almost a constant now really. It far preceded his present woes, but it no doubt amplified them to unbearable degrees. He tried to bear it once, with whatever grit he could muster, but it didn’t work as well as he hoped, the grit he banked so hard on being sanded down by the very thought it tried to destroy. Hero had little else to give but a groan. He rubbed his temples ruefully, hissing a silent exhale as his hands jiggled the front doorknob.

“Oh! You're home early.” came a voice from inside. Hero wasn't surprised in the slightest. His mother was always quick on the draw with greetings. She had some sharp senses to recognize his entry from the get go— the door only open a crack thus far— but that was one of her charms, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

A gentle tug was all it took to pull the door open. He waved before entering with a shrug; she was justified in her surprise. He hardly went home before dark these days.

She cocked her head to one side as a thoughtful frown settled on her face. “Is everything alright with Mari, mijo?” As little as Hero talked about it, just about everyone who knew him realized where he usually went this time of day.

He thought for a moment before mumbling a quick “It's okay.” Not that he knew for sure. For once, he didn't go there, his meeting with the preacher giving him a few things to think about. He couldn’t say it didn't make him feel any less bad, shirking his usual routine as he did, but it was a good enough reason for him to abstain.

From the way she raised a curious brow at him, his words didn't seem to convince his mother much. "Did she not want to talk to you?"

Hero found himself instinctively shaking his head. “No no, nothing like that. I just didn't go.” He looked away, almost ashamed of admitting it.

“Hmm.” the staccato indicating surprise more than contemplation. “That's a first.”

She wasn't wrong by any means— it was the barefaced truth— but it didn't make it sting any less. Hero fought hard to suppress a wince, eyes down in shame once more. Mercifully, she seemed to sense this, and turned her attention elsewhere, to save him perhaps from extra damage. It wasn't long before she came up with a golden idea.

She beckoned him, wooden spoon in hand. "Why don't you help me with the cooking, like we used to." She turned back to prepare the ingredients, body language making it quite clear that she expected him to agree. “Come on.”

Hero knew very well that there was no denying her any requests, so he complied, though not unwillingly. Cooking ought to take his mind off things, not that he could see any better alternatives at the moment.

He had a good idea of what she wanted to make at least, if any of the ingredients scattered about were any indication. No specific dish came to concrete thought, but his hands worked all the same, mechanically in speed, but fluid and finessed in practice. They jumped between tasks, making no distinction between them. If there was any restriction to his movements, it was only ever in relation to the cooking sequence.

Mari used to joke about him being tired carrying those Michelin star hands wherever he went. Some pun that was. It'd be the first amusing thing he thought of today, the only thing that gave him any semblance of a smile thus far. With those hands, he was set to make the best cup noodles ever seen in med school.

It was a funny joke once, but it dropped his smile, more than anything, nowadays. He quickly straightened his expression to one of deep concentration instead though— better that than the sour look his face had only moments before. He was in the middle of dicing some vegetables when his mother spoke up again.

“You got all the things you needed from school, no?”

He hummed to the affirmative, it was all she really needed to know. The less said about school bureaucracy, the better. Watching his teachers type down a recommendation letter was a far more tedious task than he expected, much more so when his request letter was received days in advance. His mother didn’t raise a complainer, that’s for sure; the less he said on the matter, the better.

“Then it’s all settled?”

“More or less.” he managed before quickly dodging a slice that would’ve surely nicked his finger. “I passed the test after all.”

“And there you were, saying you were scared.” She cooed playfully.

Hero shrugged, he was scared. Awards didn’t mean much in a test setting. They only surrounded him like a hung jury, forever indecisive on whether he was actually a genius, or just some lucky guy.

His mother insisted on hanging them up in his room, hooking them onto every corner of his side of the bedroom, with some even on a proper shelf, built together by his father. Kel used to use them for target practice once, for an old slingshot that disappeared long ago. He didn’t do much of that nowadays though, not that his brother did much with him in general these days.

“Your dad and I always believed in you.” His mother chuckled with some amusement. “I remember Kel being so happy when the good news came.”

It was like she could read his mind with that latter statement. But it was that same statement he found hard to believe. If Kel was ever happy when he was around, it would’ve been in spite of him than because of him. But that’s how it ended up, he was bound to taste the fruits of his labor one of these days, the fruits of his choices, however bitter they ended up to be.

And as it turned out, Hero had a bad taste in his mouth.

“You look surprised.” He looked back to see his mother eyeing him intently, though her eyes looked more sympathetic than steely.

“Surprised at passing.” He mumbled, in poor hopes that the unclear pronunciation would absolve him of the lie.

“At passing.” she repeated. Amused, but unbelieving all the same. She took a moment to settle herself, her hand still busy with the cooking, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

He arched an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“Well I was just thinking…” Hero found himself holding his breath, a mother doing some mentionable thinking was never a good sign. He must've had a funny look on his face, if the amused smirk on her face was any indication. “about your college plans, silly."” she added in an effort to placate him. “You'll be away from home.”

“I guess I will be.”

“For longer than usual.”

“Mamá—”

“Only joking, Hero.” was her quick response. “But I would like it if you stayed home more often. I'll miss you, you know.” she added with frank candor. “Your father and Kel will too.”

A curious development, Hero never had his lip twitch before.

“That boy will have to grow up faster than he thinks.”

And another, this really wasn't his day.

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“No.” He said quickly, beating the reflex by a hair's breadth. “I haven't.”

“It's sad, no? You used to be so close.” She paused for a chuckle. "Joined by the hip like your father used to say."

Hero simply nodded.

“Ahh, but you are men now. Moving a little apart is normal.”

“I guess so.”

“But don't forget family, mijo. We're meant to stick together.”

So the hope was, Hero certainly liked to think so, as poor of an example he might be.

“Talk to him one of these days. Promise me that, please.”

“And where is Kel?” he asked with a shrug.

“Well,” her eyes turned playful for a second, “you'll just have to find him, no?”

Chapter Text

Kel liked the hangout spot. It was a dependable little place for many things. With a big lake in front for all sorts of varied watersports, the options only increasing as certain friendships grew; and thick evergreen trees on all sides, excellent shade for picnics, and the odd nap or two after a long day of exploring. A real MVP among the various venues seen in the sleepy town.

“Are you ready?!”

Kel beamed as his throat burned with the announcement. Usually one for active participation, it wasn't often he got to play the part of referee. He raised an arm up in preparation, watching carefully as the two athletes under his temporary authority tensed their muscles, and braced for the start.

“Ready to lose, big guy?” one said to the other.

A playful snort. “Ready as ever!”

They were determined as usual, Kel thought to himself, a useful attribute for just about anyone. As capable as they both were, he had his money on the first athlete. Sorry Jay, he’d be a fool not to bank on Cris’ prowess. The boy’s chances were slim, but his competitive spirit ought to make for some entertaining commentary at least.

“Get set!” He could see Cris drop down to a sprinter’s start. It was an odd thing to witness the first time ‘round— a long time ago now— it was an unusual start for a lap race in the lake, but the action quickly justified itself then, as it likely would do again.

“Go!” Hardly a moment went by before the simultaneous splash of water commenced the race proper. Cris tucked her arms in on her dive, body piercing the lake like a bullet. It was just enough for her to fly by her equally athletic opponent, who strained admirably against the foam of water she left in her wake.

Kel cheered the two on, chuckling all the while. He had a pretty good idea of how the race would end up, but still it kept his rapturous attention. Each rematch still entertained him to no end, the show of athletic prowess rivaling that of proper Olympic programs. Or maybe not, but they sure were more entertaining at least.

While he kept one eye on the race, his other eye meanwhile went scanned the grounds around the lake. He hoped the festivities didn’t wake the other two up. Basil and Aubrey found a nice tree to nap under, the grass under them covered by the picnic blanket they set down a few hours before. The flower boy was right, a potluck was just what they needed that afternoon— and he was pretty stuffed himself— but it did result in some Thanksgiving-esque drowsiness, a few months too early, he might add.

The two swimmers, meanwhile, were making some incredible progress across the lake, the race a lot more toe-to-toe than Kel first anticipated. It was surprising how much speed Jay accrued with inefficient strokes, using his strength as a crutch for any deficiencies in finesse. Only a few more seconds remained before both contenders reached the end, with both stepping up their game massively. Both yelled out in victory as Kel called for time, scattered whoops continuing as they pulled themselves out of the water. The two both grinned from ear to ear, each in the belief that they won.

“Better luck next time!” Cris said, smirking as she stretched her arms up above her head.

“Say what? I totally won this time!” Jay snapped back, a similar grin spreading across his face.

They looked to Kel for confirmation, expectantly confident of the teen’s support for their own claims. But the thing was… Kel wasn’t so sure himself. His subsequent head scratch was evidence enough, not to mention the increasingly sheepish look on his face.

“Oh come on!” The two groaned near-simultaneously. It was a close race, maybe too close. Where was Basil’s camera when he needed it? That would’ve solved things nicely. But the problem was easily solved in other ways.

“Let’s call it a tie.”

That wasn’t one of them.

“No way!” cried one “I touched the edge first!”

“No, I did!” cried the other.

A back and forth of similar retorts, it was hard to keep up, much less figure out who was saying what things. For once Kel stepped back; of all the things to bicker about, this was probably harmless. It was nostalgic, in a way. He looked back to the napping duo, he’d bet Aubrey would get a kick out of seeing them argue.

Or maybe not, their personal history of arguing wasn’t all amicable, he was sad to say.

It took a few minutes, but it wasn’t too long before the athletes were on good terms again, promising yet another rematch to each other. It would be the thousandth one since they started a few years back— an exaggeration, naturally, but it certainly felt like it. It was all in good fun at least, and Kel for one never looked to put a stop to them.

A cold chill blew through the air, and it gave Kel a wonderful feeling. It was a good break from the hot sun that ravaged the landscape hours earlier. The courteous thing even dried the sweat off his back, it was like an air condition back there. The risk of a cold was ever present, but Kel lived for those short term gains. He was fit enough, and dry enough, to take those risks. For some others, it wouldn’t be so simple.

“You two are soaked!” Kel remarked, oddly enough, almost like he was surprised. Cris was quick to capitalize on this with a response.

“You don’t say!” she quipped.

“Go figure.” Jay added.

Kel smirked amidst the irritation. “You’ll get sick. How ‘bout that, wiseass?”

“Ahh, I’m strong as an ox!” The girl feigned a flex as she winked at Jay. “Not so sure about this guy though. I’ll be dry soon enough.”

The older teen took the jab with a chuckle, rearing up for one of his own. “Dry? But I thought mermaids liked the wet.”

Kel couldn’t help but laugh along, even amidst a faux pout forming on Cris’ face. She puffed her cheeks in mock anger, turning her nose up at him for effect. “I could always go home to change, if you want.”

“You mean down there?” Jay broke into guffaws of laughter as he pointed off to the lake.

“Shut up, Jay.” An amused smile graced her lips as she said it.

“Whatever you say.”

A few more barbs were thrown both ways before they finally decided on calling it a day. Kel’s advice was sound enough. It was always sad to part ways, but tomorrow was another day, another day of many more for doing things in tandem with friends. It wasn’t before a small amount of cleanup, a few of the used food containers belonging to the soaked pair, but they soon reduced it to Kel’s contributions, as well as the blanket they set it all on, still currently occupied from the looks of things.

Kel looked after the other two as they continued to nap. They slept upright, backs supporting each other; their sides rested on the tree they set the blanket under. It seemed like a terrible position at first, but the way they mumbled peacefully suggested otherwise. It was awfully quaint, you’d think they were talking to each other, bonding somehow in slumber, but Kel knew that was little more than wishful thinking, the stuff of fantasy works he imagined, though not very good ones perhaps.

He hummed to himself as he continued to watch. As disruptive as a force he was, something even he’d admit to, he loathed the prospects of having to wake them up. He supposed he’d have to wait until they did that on their own.

In the meantime, he found the nearby pier a well enough haunt for the time being. Grabbing a few small pebbles in one hand, he took a comfortable seat by the edge, feet dangling above the water.

One by one, he tossed each stone into the lake. Each hit the water with a satisfying splosh, before leaving a foaming geyser in their wake. It only lasted a moment, but many stones made for many repeats. A few lucky throws ended up skipping across, twice or thrice along the smooth surface of the lake. The ripples they formed crested and fell in time with each other, until they finally clashed with chaotic results.

“You're messing up the water.”

Kel turned to the voice, only to find Cris staring at him with a quizzical expression.

He raised an eyebrow. “You're still here?”

"Never left." she admitted with a shrug. “So what's up?”

“The sky?”

She snorted. “Only Basil can use that dorky catchphrase.”

“I thought I was the dork.”

“Not that kind of dork.” Cris dropped down to a squat. “You'll lose those sports hands if you do.”

“And get what? Garden hands?” Kel chuckled. “Not a bad switch.”

Cris huffed. “You really are a dork.”

“Friendly Neighborhood Dork.” Kel liked the sound of that.

“I'm serious though.”

“About me being a dork?”

She paused. “Well, yeah. But I'm talking about this.” With a finger, she traced the space around him, and the stones he piled next to him.

He shrugged. “You should try it sometime.”

“No one in their right mind throws rocks into a lake without being in some thinking mood.”

“Thinking mood?”

“You're not depressed, are you?”

“Hell no!” Kel was quick to say. “I'm just—”

“Thinking?” Cris drawled with a flourish. “You're thinking, Kel.”

“You make it sound like I'm going crazy.”

“Nah, but it's enough to get me worried.”

“I'm touched.” Kel hummed in deadpan humor, stuck halfway between gratitude and sarcasm.

“Why don't you tell me about it?”

“It's not anything big.”

“Nothing to lose by saying it then.” Not something Kel could argue with, unfortunately. He groaned.

“My mom's just been talking to me…”

The girl put her hands on her hips. “You're not in trouble, are you?”

“... about Hero.” he finished, drawing out the last word for emphasis.

“What for?”

“He's going off to college soon.” Kel hummed at the memory. “She wants us to talk.”

“Make up?”

Kel chuckled. “What's there to make up for?”

Cris stared back.

He frowned. “No.” Still, she remained undisturbed.

“And what did you say to her?”

He tossed one more stone in the water. “That I was gonna think about it.” It skipped once before plopping with a splash.

“Figures.” She grabbed a handful of the pebbles, punting them into the lake like a softball.

Kel arched an eyebrow as they rained down like artillery fire, each one coming down with explosive turbulence. “Doing some thinking yourself, huh?”

“Maybe.” she muttered, almost quietly to herself. She seemed to crouch into herself for a moment there, like she was plumbing the depths of her mind for something. Kel could only chuckle, and wonder what it might’ve been.

But soon after, a rustle from behind made them both turn back. One of the nappers was stirring awake. Basil rubbed his bleary eyes as he squinted all around, only stopping to notice his position, and the two people watching his awakening. His cheeks flushed a healthy red as he abruptly scrambled to his feet, taking some care not to disturb the girl that leaned on him just moments ago.

Cris hummed as she watched the boy, expression brighter than it was mere moments ago. A crisp staccato sounded from her fingers not long after, and she waved him over.

“What are you doing?” Kel asked.

“Helping you.” she said with a wink. Basil took a tepid seat next to them in the meantime.

“W-what's up?” the boy mumbled.

“I was just wondering,” she began with a sanguine drawl, “where Hero usually is this time of day.”

Chapter Text

Night was falling quickly. The streetlights finally flickered on as visibility dropped to unbearable degrees. Even then, gaps of darkness remained, tucked between the cones of light that tried to extinguish it. It was there that inky black holes seemed to fester, looming chasms where all manner of things liked to hide.

Basil couldn’t help but stare at them, eyes narrowing at the spots. Shadows seemed to take a life of their own in there, the flickering sodium lights doing little to stop them. Part of him wondered if those lights ever worked to their full potential, or if the dull orange light they made in his own lifetime was simply an end-of-life quirk— something he'd likely never get the answer to.

But that said, he was glad for a few things at least. Foreboding air aside, the warmth of his own home was enough to make up for the chilling aura outside. He could stare out the window all he wanted, and the phantoms of the night could stare back all with their usual foreboding, he felt safe regardless.

And besides, Polly was just a few steps away; it was hard to feel in danger with her around. At the moment, she busied herself with making a quaint little meal, a nice dinner for three. It might be the only time her warm composure waned, a slight nervousness gladly taking its place. Maybe it was the secret to her good cooking, a healthy excess of care and caution, but Basil never dared to ask.

“I'm sure she'll like it.” he remarked instead. Her eyes still trained on the work she busied herself with, Polly couldn't quite turn to face him.

“I'll be glad if she does.” she managed at least.

Basil hid a chuckle, modesty always did precede her. She seemed to trump even him when it came to compliment aversion, from the embarrassment of receiving one at least. He always wondered how others could accept them so nonchalantly.

Though, that being said, more often than not, they were all exceptional people to boot. It seemed just about most people he knew were of that sort.

“You know I do, Polly.” A new voice; Basil looked back to face them.

“You're awake.” He remarked with some surprise. It was only a few minutes previously that he spied his grandmother on the couch, in a peaceful slumber. He was glad to see her but, if he had to be frank, she was better off asleep.

She was always one for the opposite though. “It's better that way, while I still have some life in me,” She grumbled a cough away as she said so.

“You would have more of it if you slept.” Polly chimed in, her attention now fully broken from her previous task.

“Sure, I’ll last a little longer. It'll be all in bed though, dear.” she sassed back.

He raised a hand in protest. “Grandma—”

“It's the barefaced truth, Basil. Nothing we can do about that.” She turned to her stalwart nurse. “So, what's for dinner, Polly?”

Basil kept his mouth shut. It seemed nothing more was to be said on the matter. His grandmother just had this look that commanded respect, if not outright compliance, a look she gave just then. An incredible ability, one she used with great skill, in conjunction with her strong spirit. The fact that she was chosen over anyone else to raise Basil for all these years was proof enough of that.

But abilities aside, Basil and Polly were easy to convince as is, the shrinking violets they were. They dared not cross her, as genial as she always was with them. And so, they were onto the next stage of the day. Basil couldn't say he was loath to move forward.

“I'm glad you stopped by for dinner.” The nurse had a rather pleased smile on her face as she spoke. “But you have a sleepover planned at Kel's, no?”

Basil nodded. “Mrs. Rodriguez steams a good ham, but nothing beats your cooking.”

A hint of pink flushed her cheeks, an amused smirk completing the look. “You flatterer, you.”

“He's right, you know.” the older woman added with pleasant candor.

The smile was growing on her face, making her look more like a giddy schoolgirl. “You're being too kind, ma'am.” the formality an oddity amidst her expression. Basil took extra bites from his meal in rapid succession to prove their point, his grandmother trying as well, to a smaller degree.

“Oh, I can't go against all that.” Polly had to admit. "Thank you."

Dulcet tones, “Anytime, dear.” Basil loved to hear it.

“You know just how to cheer me up.”

His grandmother winked before responding. “And whenever you need some of that, you know where to find me.”

The two shared a mirthful chuckle. It was a little in-joke, a collective acknowledgement of current affairs. They were to be lifelong companions, however long that'd end up being. It was an optimistic way of looking at things, he supposed. They were all in sore lack of that as of late.

He scraped away the last remnants of his meal, the last of the group to finish. Polly went off to clean up the dishes, carrying them all off on her own despite protests from her two carees. His grandmother leaned forwards in the meantime, starting up some conversation in the long interim. It was a cliche “how was your day?”, but it was as good a start as any.

“Pretty good.” Good, Basil never thought he'd ever say that again as the unfettered truth. Even she seemed to sense the surprise, smiling almost in sympathy as much as it was in happiness.

“As it should be.” A matter-of-fact tone, for a matter-of-fact woman.

“They liked Polly's cooking too.” he added, memories of the recent picnic still fresh in his mind.

“And yours as well, don't you forget that.”

He waved a hand in disregard. “They don't need to know that.”

“And what?” she winked teasingly, “Else they'd call on you more?”

A ruddy flush graced the boy, from embarrassment at the assertion more than anything. It was demonstrably false, or so he liked to think. He shook his head vigorously.

To her credit, she nodded to save him from further embarrassment. “They'll never stop loving it, if that's what you're worried about.”

“One worry out of many.” he admitted with surprising frankness.

She hummed. “At least you're honest.”

“That's what matters, right?”

“For just about everything, friendships most especially.” She glanced at him keenly. “How do yours fare?”

“As good as it can be.” Basil chirped.

She chuckled. “Optimistic.”

“But things can always be better.” he conceded, not in a perfectionist sense, but more in the spirit of self awareness.

“Kel and Aubrey are faring well, I hope?”

He nodded again. “Cris and Jay too.”

“Which leaves a few more, as you've mentioned before.”

The older two, what's Basil to do with them? But serendipity always finds ways, he supposed.

“Yeah, but I think that's solving itself.”

She raised a curious brow. Understable enough, he was quite surprised himself when Kel divulged his intentions, even more so when Aubrey piped in with her own agreements. He was sad to see them set off without him, but there was benefit to staying behind, spending some time with his grandmother. He said as much, and more, to her as they continued conversing.

“The rendezvous with them later ought to bring some interesting news then.”

“I hope it brings good news.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“I’m counting on it… on them.”

She placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “And they'll deliver. Lord knows you always solve things in the end.”

Basil huffed, near-mirthlessly. “Not without a few speedbumps.”

“Well, the beauty of speedbumps is that it never stops you completely. It only ever slows you down.”

“And if I wanted to drive over them without a care, and speed things up?”

“Then, my dear,” she warned, “you'll be in deep trouble. There's never a need to rush.”

Basil sighed. Somehow, he found that very hard to believe.

Chapter Text

The sun finally slipped over the horizon, leaving the group to squint their eyes keenly as they walked the streets of Faraway. Cris and Aubrey led the charge, their enthusiasm far eclipsing anyone else's.

Kel for one stuck to the back— not that there was anyone else to trail ahead of besides the two girls in front of him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he found himself asking as they turned onto Sunny's street.

“You didn't even need to ask.” one of his companions replied. Of all the people he— or, in all actuality, Cris— ran the suggestion through, he didn't expect Aubrey to be the most enthusiastic of the bunch to the idea. “It's been waaay too long.” the girl added with a wry smile.

It was a fair enough assertion, Kel only ever found himself stopping by the Suzuki household on very rare occasions, often just to fetch his brother. Truthfully, that old routine made Cris' earlier queries for Hero's location a tad redundant. He always knew well enough the places his brother would frequent; that was never the issue.

It was whether he wanted to be there himself, now that was the factor he mulled over. More often than not, it was a no, but he'd be damned to cross Aubrey's wishes now.

“I've always wanted to meet Mari.” Cris hummed to herself, thoughtfully making it just loud enough to reach his ears as well. Kel suppressed a smile, the girl was similar to Aubrey, in the way that they always knew how to move someone to an action.

In any case, they were only a few houses away now, it'd be a waste of all their time to turn back now. They'd best hurry up, the sun won't be up for very long now.

Kel couldn't help but shiver a little; the dusk darkness always lent a foreboding air to the sleepy town. Muted indigos and purples stained the air. Kel felt a chill run through his nerves, coating his skin in goosebumps. Something about the lack of open streetlights just made the landscape feel colder, more detached somehow.

He used to have good memories of walking to Sunny's house at this time of day. In his younger years, he'd even wait for pitch black darkness before coaxing his old friend out of the house. He'd always have a ladder in hand, for Sunny to engage in a cunning escape. And they'd explore under the cover of darkness, though Hobbeez was always their regular haunt. Good days, but old days.

A lot of time had passed since those days, and not very well for him. He didn't think it'd be Hero he'd have to coax out of there in the following years.

He could still remember the first bad experience, the start of this unfortunate cycle. It didn't start with his brother, oddly enough.

He managed a mirthless chuckle, he wondered what Basil would think about the memory that swirled in his mind. Maybe it was a good thing the boy deferred from joining them today, Kel knew from firsthand experience that Basil didn't mix well with bad memories— certainly not a mental image he looked back on with any fondness.

Kel's own house was just up ahead; he braced for an inevitable bark as they approached. As brief as their pass-through was going to be, Hector— the good boy he was— had a keen sense for his scent, enough to track him like a bloodhound he wagered, and alert the neighborhood to his presence. He shuffled slower and slower as they soon walked in full view of the front lawn.

To his relief, Hector was no bloodhound, and it was awfully late for a romp. Kel could just about see his snout poking out of the doghouse, asleep from the looks of things. It wasn’t something he saw very often this time of day.

“Poor thing.” He hummed to himself.

“Says you.” Cris chuckled back, face scrunched in mock indignation.

Kel played along. “Can’t blame a dog for practicing their tackle.” the image of their first meeting still burned into his mind.

“Makes me wonder what other tricks he knows.”

The two shared amused glances at each other, both leaning back to see the good boy one last time before the thick trees separating each lot obscured their sightline completely. Once it did, they snapped upright, with one stomp on the ground, like some soldier. Cris even feigned a salute, to raucous laughter.

“Something keeping you two?” Aubrey piped up to ask. The two looked ahead to see her far ahead of them, feet practically on the Suzuki’s front porch. An impromptu race commenced, with Kel proclaiming victory soon after. Cris, as the loser, was prompted to ring the doorbell in their stead.

A doorbell, one of the few things Kel never thought would give him nostalgia. But it did, each house had a different bell installed, and this house was no different. The distinctive ring was archived in his brain, like it was important information. Maybe the tickle in his head was that archive being pulled open, exposing the stimulus to the world after a long hibernation.

The door pulled open a crack, Kel knew the eyes that peered through them. They scrunched a moment before the door opened further. “Do I know you?” Sunny’s mother seemed to frown for a moment as she stared at Cris. Kel felt bad for the girl, but the rules were the rules. It didn’t take long for the older woman to see the others that stood by, crying an abrupt “oh!”

“Hey Mrs. S!”

“Hi, ma’am.” Aubrey added, popping her head out from behind the other two.

Sunny’s mother managed a smile, pushing aside stray locks of hair that blocked her view. “What a surprise!” She patted down her skirt, smoothing out wrinkles to the best of her ability. “What brings you kids here? Oh, it doesn't matter, come in!”

Kel pushed on ahead, with Aubrey following suit soon after. Mrs. Suzuki looked to the remaining member still outside. “You can come in too, you must be one of their friends.”

She conversed a moment with the girls, bantering with them even. Cris' clothes dripped all the while, a fact she was quick to hide, or at least attempted to hide. Sunny's mother smirked at the effort.

“I’ll be fine.” the younger girl said, arms up even before the older woman got a word out. “I can change out of them later.”

“And catch a cold in the meantime? Not on my watch.” Aubrey grinned in amusement as the woman held her hips, like she was Cris’ mother instead of Sunny or Mari’s. “You can come with me. I’m sure one of Mari’s old dresses should fit you nicely.”

Cris flushed for a moment before blubbering out a timid retort. “I can’t make you do that for me, ma’am.” Both Aubrey and Kel suppressed chuckles at her sudden formality.

“Oh please! Mari doesn’t use half of them much now. It’d be a waste to leave them to the moths.”

The bowed girl grinned. “Tempting offer.”

Mrs. Suzuki grinned back. “You’re absolutely right, Aubrey. You know…” she leaned in for a not-so-subtle whisper. “you could join her in trying some of them out, if your friend here'll agree.”

It was a smart move, Kel had to admit. Aubrey had a thinly veiled interest in all the accessories Mari graced. He remembered her sneaking a use from one of Mari’s perfumes, overapplying it to noxious results. You could smell her from the next block over, a joke he liked to crack every so often in the immediate weeks since that day. The ploy seemed to work, and the three girls pattered into the other room, and presumably to the adjacent storage room beyond. He had a moment to himself, the room vacated of all people besides him.

It was a lovely room. The warm lights inside were a nice comfort, a pleasant change from the darkness outside. And the living room was just as Kel remembered it to be. He took a moment to look around, to see them properly for once. His last visits saw him rush through, in some attempt to be in and out with his brother as quickly as possible. It didn’t leave him much room to reminisce, and hardly enough time to remember.

A few pictures lined the walls, helping him a little in that task. Most of them didn’t have him in it— they were Suzuki family photos after all— but just seeing them, Sunny, Mari, it made him feel something, something he didn’t know what to call. It was with that feeling in his heart that he soon gazed up to the large photo hung on the back wall, the clear centerpiece.

He’d seen it many times before, and could arguably see it even with his eyes closed. It was one of those stereotypical young family photos, seen in just about every household. Two parents and their young children: the difference from many other such pictures was that he knew the children very well. He’d only met the Suzuki siblings years past the photo's date, but they were easily recognizable, even the little infant Sunny managed a trademark stoic look behind the pacifier he sucked on. And Mari was little changed from the cheery toddler that posed next to her baby brother— the Mari he remembered, at least.

A few muffled steps sounded ahead, just to his left. It took a few more seconds before the steps’ source could be identified. It seemed that Sunny’s mother left the two to play runway on their own. Kel could hear the steps getting closer, before they stopped just shy of his position.

“I like this photo.” she said after a pause, mumbling it quietly to him.

“I like it too.” It was a poor attempt at pep, but Kel tried it all the same. “It’s nice.”

“I remember how fussy Mari was getting with the pose.” She managed an amused smile. “She didn’t like our original plan.”

“Oh?” Fussy was never a word he associated with Mari. “What was it?“

“Sora wanted to hold her, the same way I was carrying little Sunny here.” A smile was growing on her face. “Oh Mari didn't like that. She said she wanted to drop down low, and lie next to her brother.” She chuckled. “I remember the photographer trying to talk her out of it. The photographer! Didn’t work though.”

“And you got this.” Kel said as he scanned the posing again. “Not bad at all.”

“Mari really fought for it...” she trailed off. “She was so excited.”

Kel could feel a frown tugging the edge of his lips. “Where is she, by the way?”

“Scouting her college with her father.” she rolled her eyes. “He insisted, wanted to make sure it was right for her.”

Kel hummed. “College huh.”

“She’s Henry’s age after all.”

He could only nod, shrugging in agreement, though he snapped back to attention when he remembered the purpose of his visit. “My bro isn’t here then?”

A chuckle. “I’m surprised he isn’t. I didn’t tell him about her trip.” Whether that was any indication of something good, or bad, Kel didn’t know. “He usually comes by often.”

“Yeah.”

“And you were hoping to find him here?”

Another nod. “Yep.”

“How adorable.”

Kel raised an eyebrow at this. “Adorable?”

“I almost forgot how close you two are. I stand by what I said.”

Were, but it was a nice thought.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” her face settled into a small frown. She seemed genuinely worried he would.

“Aubs and Cris are still busy, aren’t they?”

It succeeded in bringing a smile back to her face. “And you’ll wait for them.”

He nodded.

“What a gentleman.”

“I owe them that much.”

“Look at you.” She let out a low whistle. “Being all grown up.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got a ways to go.”

“Said like your favorite brother?”

“Maybe.” It went both ways. They had a long way to go, that’s for sure.

That said, he hoped dearly for the girls to finish. Lord knows he wasn’t going to miss dinner.

Chapter Text

Kel was late, that was all Hero seemed to have in his mind. Even as he scooped the last of his food into his mouth, after a long interim of portioning them into smaller and smaller pieces, that was the thought that looped near-endlessly.

He wasn’t restless as much as he was surprised; Kel was late for a good many things, but meals were the exception. Hell, it might be the only time his brother ever argued for punctuality all on his own. Whatever was keeping him either incapacitated him— an option he certainly hoped wasn’t the case— or entranced him so greatly that dinnertime was a mere footnote in his mind. He was the only one missing; even his own father was here, home from a long day at work. In his exhaustion, the older man ate without a word, though a charming wink here and there helped relieve the others of any worry.

But a distant bark soon brought his attention to the front door. Hector could sense someone passing by. The subsequent ring of the doorbell narrowed the options down considerably. It’s about time, he mused, maybe Kel will find some pittance of warmth left in his meal.

He got up himself to answer the door, so it was to some surprise that Basil was on the other end. The flower boy held a timid hand up in greeting. The confusion wore off quickly as he remembered their plans for a sleepover, and he pulled the door open to let him in.

A sleepover, he found some amusement in the word. Fifteen was a remarkably old age to continue calling it a sleepover, but he supposed they wanted to feel younger for a little while longer. He could agree with that sentiment, though he was little more than eighteen himself.

His mother invited the newcomer to dine a while, but the boy declined. “Had some at home.” he heard the boy say. He hadn’t stopped by that old house in a while— a good three years now from rough calculations. He wondered what changed in his absence.

Of course, he didn't have to think for very long. The boy's grandmother, it didn’t take much thought to recall her, or her ailment from the last few years. It didn’t help that the topic was one of the first to surface on his mother’s queries to the boy. He seemed to squirm as he answered, though it was propped up by a steely edge, uncharacteristic scaffolding for his reluctant responses. Hero fought the urge to wince.

But soon, yet another noise by the front door gained his attention, bringing it away from the slow conversation that continued on. He didn't even need to move, the door opening as it did. In walked the boy he was waiting for, and another companion besides.

Of all of them, it was surprising that Aubrey moved in for the greetings, even quicker than his brother, who stood back and waited his turn instead. At least they moved in for the meal with gusto; the quicker Kel ate, the quicker Hero could move in to talking to him, in private of course.

That said, he couldn't help but watch them. He'd finished his own meal long ago, and the bedroom was no place to be. And besides, it'd been a good long while since he really looked at them.

The first thing that struck him was how old they looked, startlingly older than he remembered. The joys and ills of puberty, his mother used to say: growth at the cost of mutation.

But it seemed to go only so far as appearance with them. Kel remained a plucky fellow, and Aubrey an irritated foil to him. Basil stayed a nervous boy, maybe more so than in previous years, but it was a trademark, for better or for worse.

Other differences did come to view, naturally. There was a level of mellow amiability that wasn't there before, not like the raw sort of camaraderie they all once had. Maybe it was the increased maturity they surely gained in the last few years. Maybe that was making all the difference.

Aubrey seemed almost unnaturally happy, even for her standards. He wasn't the only one to see this, even the other two boys glanced briefly in her direction- Kel with an amused grin and Basil... with something else, something Hero could relate to.

Basil was finally at that age, he supposed.

But all good things come to an end, dinnertime giving way to evening chatter, and giving him the job of dishwasher. His mother was merciful enough to join him in the task, but a meal for five took more than a moment to clean. It all worked to benefit him though, Kel was nowhere to be seen on the ground floor. It was likely he went up to the bedrooms to gather his own pillows. It was almost perfect timing. After the dishes were nice and tidy on the drying rack, Hero set off.

Up the stairs and through the door, and there he was. His brother looked back, a curious look on his face. Hero swallowed back the lump in his throat, this was harder than he thought.

His question came out in a whisper. “Can we talk for a while?”

“A truce then?” Kel wasn't sure he was hearing it right. Tame as the words might’ve been, this wasn't anything he expected— not from his brother at least, and even if he did, not this soon. He made a point to cross his arms, to make some of his befuddlement known.

“You make it sound so reluctant.” His brother managed an amused smirk. Kel settled down onto his bed as he continued to watch the older boy. “Not such a bad thing to ask, I think.”

He pressed down on his lips, sealing them from undue emotion. Only his eyes spoke of the keen disagreement he held for the statement. Hero's suggestion was something that should've been in place long ago. It was a good thing precisely for that reason. It was supposed to be natural, between friends, between family, between brothers. To assert it like some newfound idea was an insult.

But he held his tongue; a tepid shrug was the extent of his response. Hero nodded like he understood.

“But why now?” the question slipped, past mental restraint and tight lips. “What got into you today to ask?”, untactful, but blunt.

“College,” Hero deemed a pause necessary, “you know how it is. Paperwork's all good now.”

“Like it wasn't a sure hit before.” Kel found a smirk creasing his face, the indignant amusement getting to him.

“You can never be too sure.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“I thought it'd be a good idea.” Hero looked away. “Talking and hanging out like this, I mean.”

“Nice of ya to think so.” Kel didn't buy it one bit. His mother advised him just about the exact same thing. He wondered why that'd be so hard to admit.

“Just trying to be a good brother.”

“And you are.” hardly of your own will though, he wanted to add. He huffed instead. “So you want to start hanging out again?”

“You and I? Yeah.”

“With Basil and Aubrey?”

A shrug. “Never hurts.”

“And Cris and Jay?”

A pause. “Well I was hoping—”

He snickered teasingly. Miffed as he was, there was some amusement to be gained. “Kel Rodriguez is a package deal, big bro. You can't get me without the other pieces.”

“Main products work fine on their own.”

“But they’re always better with the add-ons." he completed, hands on his hips. He leaned back til he lay flat on his bed. “You can't escape them.”

“From the number of times you have sleepovers here, I'd know that fact well enough.” For once, his brother had a warmer smile on his face.

“You think you can keep up with them?”

The challenge seemed to breathe some life back into him. “I know them well enough to hold my own.”

“What are your plans then for tomorrow?” Kel asked.

“The usual.” Kel knew enough to sidestep the vagueness.

“Make it a group trip, and you have a deal.”

A flash of surprise sparked in his brother’s eyes. Barely another moment went by before he responded. “I'm not bringing all of you to—”

“Oh please,” Kel harnessed some uncharacteristic dismissal, “where do you think we were this afternoon?”

“Ah well—” the words seemed to die in his mouth. “Well, I… how was she?”

How painfully typical, Kel affixed a serious gaze on his brother. “Out of the house, dorm-hunting with her old man. She'll be home tomorrow, maybe tonight.” He lingered a moment in silence for effect. “We’re stopping by her place once she does.”

Hero narrowed his eyes. “You'll overwhelm her.”

“I think she'll be glad to see us.”

A worried look soon creased Hero's face. “I don’t know about that.”

“You never know until you try.” Kel replied, ignoring the insinuation.

“That's what worries me. We don't have room to try.”

Kel shrugged. “You're trying with me.”

“That's not the same.”

Kel huffed, shooting up and springing to his feet. “Mari's our friend too, it's not so different.”

Hero stifled a groan. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“You always do.”

“For good reason.”

Kel winced at his words. He could feel a tug on his body, to the door behind his brother. He could almost grab the sensation like some tangible thing. Though his frown remained, his attention lingered elsewhere. It wasn't a good thing, the memory he contended with just then. He could hardly remember the full details, but he could remember how it made him feel, how Hero made him feel.

I’m doing my best to get Mari back on her feet.

I can’t let you get in the way of that.

If I can’t help her…

…I know you can’t.

Kel winced as a sharp pain shot from the edge of his tongue. He suckled on the wound to dull the sensation, tasting metal with every effort. He swallowed as the lump on his throat grew.

“It's where we have to start, Hero.” he managed before pausing, quickly amending the statement. “It's where I want us to start.”

“Fine, but don't trouble her.” The stifled sigh said more than any of the words could do on their own. Kel couldn’t take any of that lying down.

“When have I ever?”, normally a teasing remark. Kel certainly didn’t mean it that way now.

“Kel—”

“Have it your way, Hero.” It was hard to forget. “Let’s both focus on Mari.”

Chapter Text

Morning already, it’s startling how quickly the evening can pass. With the early morning sun bearing down on him, Hero wondered how he got himself into these situations. They were off to the Suzuki household, with him leading the charge. It was like one of those old follow-the-leader games they used to play, but he couldn’t help but sigh, amidst the pleasant memory that ran through his head.

Playing the lead used to be fun— the control he had in leading a whole group of people used to fill him with a sense of pride— but somehow, control seemed the smallest thing in his hands now, even as he walked in front of his group. He wasn’t here by choice, not immediate choice at least. The masses didn’t often dictate the destination in those old games. Frankly, it negated the need for a leader at all.

But the thought would more than likely just irk him further the longer he mulled it over. He chose to focus on his steps instead, falling into a rhythmic thump, each impact reverberating in his head. It might be the last thing he could control, the speed and rhythm of his steps, but it was increasingly harder to concentrate on that, when sounds of the riff-raff behind him filled the air instead. It wasn’t the kindest word, but the cacophony of footsteps, banter, and the occasional bursts of laughter was a combination best separated. It was the unhappy middle ground of quiet and white noise, distracting him more and more, when the ends of that spectrum did much the opposite.

They all seemed happy at least, maybe that was the consolation he was looking for. It was a chaotic kind of happiness, but it was happiness nonetheless. He buried his hands in his pockets as he let the thought linger in his mind. Their walk wasn’t going to last any longer than a minute; he had to flush the thought out somehow, and wring it out like a wet towel, til it had nothing left to give him.

Soon enough, they arrived. Across the walkway and up the porch steps he went. He leaned one foot back on the last step as he rang the doorbell. The electrical buzz that emerged, clinical as it was, almost made him feel warm. The body was odd like that, and though there was surely some rational explanation for it, he still resonated strongly with the supernatural, or the ephemeral reasons. There was just something special about it.

His reverie broke soon enough, the door opened up to Mr. Suzuki. He seemed to start at the company. It only took a few moments though before he gained enough wits to let the group in, and a few more moments to gather any words to speak.

“When did this happen?” he quipped with a chuckle, finding some mirth in the display. He exchanged a wink with Kel as the boy entered. Even Aubrey smirked in amusement. Hero shrugged, he didn’t quite know how this happened himself.

The man seemed to be in good spirits, the hiss of a nearby percolator only deepening his contented smile. He waved the group to enter further into the house, leading them to the adjacent couch, and slipping into the kitchen as soon as they settled themselves down. “Wasn’t expecting visitors this early.” his voice echoed from the nearby room, “I’ve only got coffee to give you kids.”

Hero blinked through bleary eyes. “I’ll take one.” He didn’t get much sleep last night, spending most of it in thought, distracting thought he might add. He just hoped the dark lines didn’t show on his eyelids.

“I think you need a nap.” Hero supposed the exhaustion did show. “But here.” The man gave him a half-cup of the stuff. “That ought to keep you from keeling over til then.” He exaggerated a sniff from his own mug, face visibly lighting up at the smell.

Hero wasn’t always one for coffee, but even he could agree that the smell had something to it, something good. The scent lined the insides of his nose, lingering mercifully as he daydreamt of rustic spaces. He brought the mug up to his lips, bitterness meeting him as his tongue touched the drink. His senses jolted awake. Whether it was the taste, or the caffeine, that worked to that end, he didn’t know.

“Something keeping you up these days?” Mari’s father asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Hero huffed. “There’s always something.”

“Is that the disgruntled old man in you talking?” The man leaned back, gripping the counter to support his weight. “Those are my lines you’re stealing, you know.” he muttered with a low chuckle.

“College’ll be one hell of a new thing.”

“Oh, I can see that. It’s always a little tricky to start new things.” He took another sip as he continued. “But I find that it’s not too bad in hindsight.”

“In comparison to other things I’m guessing.”

He nodded. “Not a fact I’ll ever sugarcoat. People have to get used to the challenge.” His gaze turned to the boy. “For me, it was work, and my family. It takes a good man to be good at just one of those things. It’d take a great man to balance both.”

“I’d say you're one of them.”

He chuckled. “I’m very good at trying.”

“Trying matters, right?”

“Well, right below results, it’s the only thing that matters.” His eyes turned serious for a moment, “When things go south, it might be the only thing you have.”

“We all work with what we got.”

“And that’s why I’m glad for the company.” He paused. “How long have you been stopping by the house now, without my asking?”

Hero managed a smile. “Almost all my life if you count the good times.”

“Heh, figures. It was usually Mari’s asking anyway.” He grinned slightly as a thought came to him. “You’re not still salty over me watching you like a hawk, are you?”

“It made talking to Mari pretty awkward, I must say.”

“For good reason, you two were far too young for any of that nonsense.”

He raised a curious brow. “Were?”

“It’s been a good few years now, Henry. You’re practically adults now.” He looked off wistfully, through the small window in the kitchen, off to the peace of his backyard. “I can’t do much about that.” He drummed his fingers on the counter as he looked back at Hero. “You’ve been good to her too, so no complaints there.”

“She needs people by her side.”

“And you’ve been wonderful in that role.”

Hero shrugged as he downed the rest of his drink. “I’m only trying.”

It brought a hearty laugh out of him, uncharacteristic as it might’ve been. “Good man. The company you brought with you ought to cheer her up a little more.”

“She’s still upstairs then?”

“No doubt. Excited to see them I hope.”

“Or nervous.”

The man sighed. “No argument there, but you never know.” He leaned forwards on the counter as he continued speaking. “Maybe you can shake some pep into her. She’s always glad to see you.”

“I hope so."

“To which part?” An arched eyebrow completed his look. “You shouldn’t worry about that too much.”

“Hard to say.”

“Giving it a go never hurts.” He remarked. “It might even solve things.”

Hero gently placed his mug down into the sink. “You may be right.” He could hear the continued sounds of teenaged banter from the other room, and the immediately recognizable sound of Mrs. Suzuki joining in on the conversation. They were occupied at least, a small consolation. It might be easier to coax Mari if people didn’t swarm her the second she appeared.

“I think she needs you, Henry.” Hero could just about hear the sigh as he stepped off into the other room.

He smiled mirthlessly. “No pressure.”

He was thankful the kitchen had an exit that led to the stairs. He could slip upstairs unseen by the rest of his group. He left the relative warmth of the kitchen, and walked to the dark chill of the room ahead.

For the summer, this place kept remarkably cool. One could hardly tell the season outside from here. Summer or winter, spring or autumn, it was all the same here. Autumnal shocks hit him even amidst summer decorations, as did the memories, horrible memories.

But this wasn’t the first time Hero felt such a thing, and neither was it the first time he’d been here after those memories were made. In the archives of his mind, he often tried to forget and suppress; but try as he might to close those memories by force, they always seemed to push back with equal fervor. After many a struggle with them, Hero finally had an idea. It was a trick of sorts, to navigate these thoughts.

He imagined for himself a key, fashioning it bejeweled and encrusted with gold, like an ancient artifact. He saw it take form in his mind; he could feel himself grabbing it like a solid object. It was with this implement, this contrived creation, that he latched the recollections shut. It wasn't the first time he used a key for that purpose.

It wouldn't be the last, either.

His shoes muffled over carpeted steps, a nice addition from just a few years back, softening the impact with every step. It was a clever addition, if not a little sad. He navigated deftly to the hallway above, his instincts taking hold once he got there. He'd been there enough times to make a beeline for the only important room there.

Fast as he was, Hero wasn't without courtesy. He knocked a few times, each rapt staccato louder than the last. He could hear some shuffling from inside. He hummed, acknowledgement was all he was ever afforded in these situations.

Mari came into quick view as he opened the door. She sat by her vanity, eyes squarely on herself as she gazed at the mirror. Her hands worked all the while, smoothing out the kinks in her hair with a brush. Her eyes shifted ever so slightly, the reflected gaze locking onto him. They widened surprisingly quickly soon afterwards.

She tried to bolt upright, the vanity seat pushing back with a low squeal as she did so, but it was little more than a slow stumble. Her hands gripped the table for support as she regained her footing. It wasn’t long before she took long strides towards him.

“Hero!” She evidently tried to say it with more pep than she currently possessed. Even when she thrusted her arms over him, it was he who secured her in the embrace.

“I hear you went dorm-hunting,” said he, voice straining under the sudden load, “how was it?”

“Exhausting.” She stirred slowly under his grasp, a sweet look forming on her face despite the obvious lethargy. “You're here early.”

Hero managed a chuckle as he walked her back to the vanity seat. “I am.”

The murmurs of the floor below echoed in from the open door. Her expression shifted. He tried to discern it to no avail.

“And not alone.” she noted, finally settling back down on the seat.

“Your dad still keeps a close eye.” A nervous feint.

A bewildered look crept up her face. She didn’t look all that much like the Mari he knew in that state. “My parents don't make that much noise.” It was only then that a smile melted in; it was hard to hide the increasingly loud commotion. She knew Kel as well as he did, for better or for worse.

“Nothing I can do when they insist.” He almost sighed in resignation.

“Of course.”, usually a phrase of sarcastic disbelief, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise. “The three of them?” she asked, the thought hitting her just moments before.

“Kel, Basil, Aubrey.” Almost in monotone. “They were here yesterday.”

“So I’ve heard.” She blinked slowly through puffy eyes. “They’re being awfully nice.”

“Remains to be seen.” He paced around her thoughtfully. “It’s been years.”

“But still they’re here, to meet me.”

“That’s the idea.”

She raised a brow. “Your idea?”

“…” Hero winced. There wasn’t much to say. “They insisted.”

“Insisted... figures.” She seemed disappointed.

“In your heart of hearts, Mari,” the words scratched against his dry throat. For the sake of a point, he thought.

She flinched. The words died in his mouth.

“I’m just tired, Hero.” Her eyes shimmered in the soft daylight, but the bags underneath were even darker than usual.

Another few steps, and he was close enough to wipe the budding tears from the corners of her eyes. “Not much luck sleeping last night?” said he, hands gentle in their work.

“Just the usual.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose ruefully, in some hopes that the friction would stimulate her mind into working. It wasn’t the first time Hero fell witness to that quirk. Perhaps frequency could turn even the most serious of events into something almost casual, the repetition blunting the impact.

“Is it always the same things?” he asked, dipping his toes in the dreaded role of a therapist.

Her brows furrowed, like he asked some ridiculous question. “Is there anything else to see?”

“There’s always something else to see.” and in the vein of some psychology book he read once, he said, “Our heads make all sorts of things up.”

Her face soured near-immediately. “But mine aren’t… f-fake.” her voice trembling on the last word. “I wish they weren’t.”

“You know I wish they weren’t either.” Even years removed from all the memories, all the wishes from those days continued to seep forward til these present moments.

“You don’t have them either, do you?” For once her eyes dominated the atmosphere, her gaze almost steely amidst all the sympathy. Once again Hero balked, mind and tongue barely in leagues with each other.

Her eyes softened at his nonresponse, the slight sheen of dampening eyes seen even in the dimness of her room. “Hero…” she said, trailing off as soon as she began.

“We’re all trying, Mari.” He buried his hands in his pockets. “I want to try, at least.”

She had an eye on the door. “With them, I’m guessing.”

He shrugged. “Makes me feel… normal. I can’t argue with that feeling.”

“That feeling’s three years overdue.” Something about it made him wince, did the truth ever go by without a sting? Not these days, it seemed.

“Even longer for you, I’d bet.” he smiled weakly as that poor excuse of a quip left his mouth.

To his surprise, she managed a mirthless laugh. “Maybe.” She looked away. “Feeling it now… shouldn’t hurt, right?”

He nodded back tepidly. “Who knows. We just need to keep our fingers crossed.”

“Doesn’t that scare you, Hero?” She looked terribly lost. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

He squeezed her hand, pulling her up to standing height in a locked embrace, “When are we ever?” He managed a warm smile. She couldn’t see this, nuzzled against his chest as she was.

Mari tried to nod instead, her lips drawn tighter together than they were before. “Good god.” she whispered. The door was right up ahead. He could almost feel her stomach drop.

Chapter Text

Lub-dub

Lub-dub

Lub-dub

Disjointed as Basil's own sense of time was these days, he knew Hero was up there for far too long, more than his mind could take at least. The wait was unbearable, his fingers tapped faster and faster with every dragged-out moment. Time found it fit to use the beat of his heart to torture him, the sound echoing in his ears slowly, growing louder with his restlessness.

Lub-dub

Lub-dub

Lub…

Lub…

Louder and louder. It was unbearable.

Lub-dub

But to his relief, another sound soon came to his ears.

“So, she was coming down after all.” he thought silently to himself. That was the only thing two pairs of footsteps meant, surely, plodding down the stairs in a slow rhythm.

Basil was half-tempted to come up there himself— give them a piece of his mind, as timid as it'd inevitably turn out— before he heard them descending, but the mind worked in odd ways sometimes. Consistency never seemed to be its forte. Whatever made the human brain so wonderful in speed, made it a terrible scourge on focus. It could hardly figure out what it wanted him to feel.

As far as Basil was concerned, until that moment, he was restless, almost irritated at the lengths of time he’d been made to wait thus far. That’s how he felt, that’s how it was, rightfully informed by the circumstances. But the feeling seemed to dissipate— no, it did dissipate, at a far faster pace than its gradual appearance. People often described this sudden change as jarring, likening it almost to being struck by a whip. And it was.

Mari hardly graced past the doorway before she got buried, in the kindest sense, by no less than two of her old friends. It was only lucky that Aubrey got to her first, providing some cushioning from the tight bear hug that proceeded. Kel was always relentless when it came to those, Basil could assert to that fact himself.

Basil couldn't quite describe the new feeling that struck him. Relief was the closest guess his mind could reckon, but it wasn’t quite that either. It wasn’t joy either.

Now that didn’t sit right with him.

Hero meanwhile leaned his body by the doorway, resigning himself to watching the whole display. He winced with every silent groan that came from Mari’s mouth, his hand raised up in a futile attempt for attention-gathering. His heart was in the right place, but the gesture did very little.

It was under Aubrey’s protests that the bear hug loosened to tolerable degrees. And reasonably— with the exception of the ever-oblivious Kel— everyone involved, and all those in witness, breathed a slow exhale of relief. To hug her again would be terribly rude, Basil thought, so he settled for a slow nod. He cocked his head to one side as he smiled at her.

She blinked a few times before breaking eye contact. That didn’t sit right with him either. He wondered if he did something wrong.

But with that, the reunion could begin. They shuffled off to the great couch in the middle of the room, Aubrey and Mari, with Hero in close tow. The girl’s parents stood nearby, attempting some conversation with Kel.

And Basil, he stood right where he was, with only his eyes following the group. And he watched.

It was all so different. It felt different. The thought was enough to make him huff.

Hell, they were all different, in their own ways now, anomalous from how they used to be. It was always going to be that way, events occurring as they did in years past. It kept things from being too much like old times.

He winced. Did anything sit right with him these days?

But it was an attempt, and an earnest attempt at that, but it was a poor one all the same. Maybe his expectations were nothing more than wistful fantasies. Maybe he was just being cruel. Or maybe it was the unfettered truth.

Whichever the case, maybe seeing it all through wouldn’t hurt.

“She really came down.” He found himself muttering aloud for the first time. A few minutes had passed since that awkward reunion. Thankfully, they were all too occupied to remember, with well-wishes and peppy conversation. In Mari’s case, most of which came from the younger girl that once stuck to her like a loyal pet.

Aubrey looked simply thrilled. Basil could find some solace in that.

“I'm surprised she did.” said Kel in response to his absent-minded remark. With Mari’s parents off to other tasks, he was sidelined as well for the time being. He crossed his arms over each other as he watched. “She usually doesn't.”

That was something of a first. “She stays upstairs all day?"

A dry chuckle. “There, or the piano room, if you're lucky.” Kel sighed. “Haven't been there in a while. “

Basil only managed a surprised hum for a moment there. He wondered if there was merit to asking. “Why so?" But the question came out in time.

“Bad memories.” Kel paused for a moment, plumbing his mind for the right response. “She likes playing the waltz.” He had a deepening frown by the end of the sentence.

Basil couldn’t blame him, even he could still hear the rhythm, the swing. One-two-three, one-two-three, in uneven time.

One measure would sway him one way,

He swallowed to soothe a quickly drying throat.

“Nonstop?” he asked.

Kel nodded. “All the time, if she plays.”

It was an awful dichotomy. The room used to echo in wonderful harmony once. The gang would gather round as they played, the two of them; Mari, and Sunny. Basil remembered chuckling once as they shuffled nervously at the attention, and at the camera he pointed their way.

It was quite hard to snap a decent photo then, red faces and halted performances tinting the environment. Sunny would flinch after every mistaken note, and the small wrinkles in Mari’s focused expression would crease deeper into her forehead. Photogenic was more a misnomer in those cases.

It was only after they settled in, and played like no one was watching, that things seemed to click. And so did his camera, funnily enough, when he finally got the chance.

It was a good centerpiece to the album; he ought to take another look at it sometime. The picture was nostalgic, no doubt about it, but thinking back, remembering— it really wasn't the same anymore. After everything, even if it stayed the same, Basil was loath to indulge in it like some chocolate. How could he? It could be awfully bitter sometimes.

“What got her coming down, I wonder?” he mumbled, not to anyone in particular.

“Hero.” Kel replied matter-of-factly, dryly, even.

Basil shrugged. “Maybe? You might be right.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong.” Something akin to a harrumph erupted from Kel as he said it. “Who knows?”

A low hum was all Basil could give. While his mind searched for a better response, his eyes scanned once more. There was at least a liveliness that came with this impromptu reunion. There was some amount of comfort there, odd as it may have been. Even Hero seemed to pep up; some phantom of his younger self glowed somewhere beneath the older teen that sat in his place.

“God, I hope it isn't college.” Basil found himself saying, his mind settling on comedy to lighten the mood. And from his companion, the hiss of a suppressed wheeze gave him all the feedback he needed, and a hint of a smile rose on his own face in response.

“Wouldn't be surprised if it was.”

“Mari coming down sure didn’t surprise you.” Basil deadpanned.

“Ohh, don't give me that. Like it doesn't confuse the heck outta you too.”

“It’s a joke.” said Basil, placating while his eye still lay on the girl in question. “But you have to admit, she really is trying.”

He could almost get lost in the flow of conversation.

“What are the dorms like, Mari?” he could hear Aubrey ask, the girl almost bouncing as the question left her.

“It was nice.”

“I bet you’ll meet all sorts of fun roommates!”

A pause, not anything Basil expected. “Maybe.” and nothing more.

There was timidness to the girl, he of all people could sense that much. A soft voice, with reduced expressions, and limbs tucked back, wrapping around her like coils on a light bulb— not a very bright bulb, unfortunately.

She was a roaring hearth once, boundless and full of life, but glowing embers was all Basil could see now, red charcoals almost fighting to stay aglow. They were both warm, in their own ways.

Each to their own, for good or ill.

“It doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

He hummed as the words left Kel’s lips. Kel was no mind reader, but after all Basil thought and pondered to himself, it really did feel like it.

“How do you figure?” he found himself asking. A small, indignant look crossed Kel as he said so.

“In your heart of hearts,” the look persisted even as he paused for effect, “is it?”

It wasn’t much of a thought to ponder. It had no room for deliberation besides. Basil shook his head. It only made Kel chuckle in response, mirthless as it was.

“Hurts to remember, huh?”

A sad smile. “Hurts to have a frame of reference.”

Kel managed a wistful grin to match. “Why’d you think the old timers always moan about the old days? We had it good back then!” He feigned, voice raised to whiny candor.

“I’m surprised they remember anything.” Basil added.

Kel mimed looking around in faux nervousness, his voice coming down to a whisper as he went on. “Don’t let your grandma hear that! I bet she doesn’t appreciate that slander.”

“Ahh, leave her out of this.”

“All in good fun. I know she likes a good ribbing.”

A sigh, mostly of frustration. Kel seemed to sympathize amidst his wide smile

“It never hurts, Basil.”

“But it never helps either.” He countered.

“It doesn’t need to.” Remarkably frank phrasing, despite the frown that captured Kel’s expression for a moment. “Not all the time.”

“And if I want to help as much as I can?”

“Then you’ll lose your mind.” Kel smiled reassuringly in contrast to the warning that escaped his lips. “You’ve got a good heart, it’s in the right place, but it’d be pretty bad if you drained your batteries all in one go.”

“You want me to take a break then.” Indignance oozed from his words.

“Yes.”

“I’ve got six months of that under my belt.”

“A dark room’s not much of a break.” Kel huffed. “You didn’t even enjoy it.”

“Not that I wanted to.”

“I know.”

“Bed’s not what it used to be.” He added, to twist the knife in some more. But whether it was on Kel, or on himself, was a mystery even to him.

“Don’t need to say it twice.” Kel shrugged.

“I just want to make up for lost time, you know.”

“Basil.” The boy in question shivered as a shock ran up his spine. It wasn’t often Kel’s voice turned stern. It was like one of those Hollywood transformations, but only for the briefest moment. “You’re not gonna die at sixteen. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Anything can happen, Kel.”

“Oh, I don’t like where this is going.”

Basil shook his head. “I won’t go there, if that’s what you mean.”

“You better not. Let’s leave it at one accident.”

They were on the same wavelength, with the same memories. It hurt to remember.

“Sunny didn’t—”

“I know.”

“It’s a shame, Kel.” It was as close as Basil dared say on the matter. “All we’re left with are the memories.”

“At least we have them.” Kel’s gaze tracked a line all around the room, back to the portraits and pictures that lined the walls and shelves. “There’re a few worth remembering.”

“You mentioned the storage room yesterday.” Basil mumbled, almost tangentially. “Is there something worth remembering there?”

Trinkets and knick-knacks, the stuff of lesser interest in most houses. He was sure there was some of the sort in there. But maybe to call them lesser interests was a stretch, even sentimental value is inherent value, or so it’s said. Maybe Kel felt the same.

“I sure hope so.” he replied.

Hope, a sweet song heard amidst the strongest gales: Basil read that somewhere before. He’d like some of that for himself. “Well then, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

*Click!*

Alongside the taut snap of the chain, the bulb flickering on was the only sound that echoed in the storage room Basil and Kel found themselves inside of. It had the usual musk of other such rooms, the dusty combination scent of boxes upon cardboard boxes. He would’ve gagged long ago if it wasn’t such a nostalgic smell. His friend had no such pretenses.

Kel retched, lurching forward for a moment as he contorted his face in abject aversion to the smell. “Smells like the library.” he managed before wincing again.

“Who told you to mess with the file cabinets?” Basil countered, the sight of his friend trapped in similar straits looming fresh in his mind. “It’s not too bad.”

“Says you.” Indignation was a stronger emotion than disgust it seemed. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Leave that talk to me and Cris. You bookworms are built different.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

He shook his head. “I said different, not bad.”

Basil hummed with some surprise. “That’s mature coming from you.”

“I’m not twelve, Basil.”

“You sure act like it sometimes.” He teased, a rarity for him these days.

“Hey!” Kel turned his chin up in mock offense, some flecks of it real perhaps. “Nice of you to say.” he mumbled in an attempt at sarcasm, his own form of rarity.

“You're taking it like a champ at least.”

“Not trying to make fun of me again, are you?” The smirk on his face did much to dispel the pointed tone of his words. “It’d break my heart if you were.”

“Nothing breaks your heart, Kel.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“That’s a given.” He chuckled, finally squatting down to peruse the room’s contents. He ran his fingers over white paper cut-outs that served as impromptu labels on the myriad of cardboard boxes. They were neatly smoothed over with tape, acting like some discount laminate film, it gave the cluttered room some semblance of organization. It was enough to make perusal less of a headache, Basil supposed.

He stood on his tip-toes as he reached for a box stacked up on the top. It couldn’t have been more than seven feet off the ground, maybe even less. He let out a small grunt as his fingers clipped the sides, just short of getting a grip on it. It was like his stature was teasing him. From this day on, he’d make sure to curse it. Maybe he’d grow out of spite.

His friend made no attempts to hide a snort as he watched the display. A self-satisfied hum emerged from him as he positioned himself just behind Basil, and pulled the box effortlessly from its perch.

“How’s life down there, Basil?” he said, another giggle bubbling up as he set the box down.

“Just peachy.” Basil knelt down, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, small plants are pretty resilient.”

“Said like your favorite flower?” asked Kel. “Last time I checked, sunflowers are pretty big.”

“And the cactus I have back home is a tiny little thing. Not a great comparison.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Basil smirked. “Is this what winning an argument feels like?”

“Hard to say, it used to be draws galore with Aubrey back in the day.” A twitch of his eye said more about the recollection than any words he could muster. “I pity the man who marries her.” He pulled a few old toys out of the box as he winced further at the memories.

A Spaceboy action figure, a building block set, and a bag of marbles. Basil thumbed through the items as he mulled over all the new memories that spilled over. “You know, way back when, I always pegged you for that role.” Before certain revelations came to light after, of course.

“Oh, god forbid.” came the instinctual response. “You didn’t read something like that in one of your books, did you?”

“Old married couples, they call them.” Basil recalled as he pulled a few plushies out from their cardboard home. “Act married before they’re actually married. Readers eat that stuff up.”

“You included?”

Basil shrugged. “No comment.”

“Poor you.” Kel carried on with faux sympathy. “You don’t fight with anyone.”

Basil set the knick-knacks down in a neat pile. “Whoever said I wanted that for myself?”

“And what do you want?” Kel stood up as he pulled another box from the stack, prompting a clean-up of the previous items.

Basil didn’t answer for a few moments, body feigning busyness with the item sorting. He used the silence to poke his brain once more, and maybe look for some satisfactory response.

But Kel wasn’t one for waiting, and an odd expression crossed his face besides. He snapped his fingers as a thought hit him. “Oh man! Don’t tell me—” A mischievous look soon took hold. “No wonder you brought it up!”

“Don’t tell you what?” Basil couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“Ahh, why spoil it by saying it out loud myself?” His companion looked ahead, shifting his gaze back and forth between the distant wall, and Basil’s concerned eyes. “But hey, if Jay can do it, so can you.”

Basil didn’t have much in common with Jay, not in stature, nor in interests. But there was one thing, if the assertion was what Basil thought it was. It was enough to transfix Basil in a wide-eyed pose. “Ohh! Come on!” he soon began, his voice wavering like it used to in years past.

“No shame to you, man. It happens.” Kel shrugged nonchalantly.

“Says the man who thinks girls are gross.”

“And where am I now?” Kel almost looked embarrassed. “And not all girls. Mom isn’t gross.”

An arched eyebrow. “And Aubrey?”

“Nope.”

And a playful smile. “Cris?”

“Well,” a sheepish smile seemed to infect Kel’s expression, “she’s definitely not gross.”

Basil smiled along with him. “I didn’t think much of it at first, you know.”

“Things work out like that.” Kel remarked frankly. “Heck, even I didn’t think it would.”

“Makes a whole lot of sense though. I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

“We’re friends first and foremost, Cris and I. People kinda stop looking past that sometimes.”

Basil nodded. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, that’s certainly what he first thought. He remembered the initial befuddlement— that sensation of being utterly blind. Kel didn’t seem so good at hiding developments like that before. But the feeling didn’t last long; soon, he was just thrilled.

“You’re moving up in the world, Kel.” The statement brought a chuckle out of his friend.

“Feels weird,” Kel had to admit, “but it feels nice too.” He looked off wistfully into the distance, past the dark corners of the storage room. “Makes me wonder what he’d think of all this, ya know?”

Basil knew he didn’t need to ask further, a muted pout prominent on his face, but still he pressed on. “Who? Sunny?”

Kel nodded. “Imagine what he’d say about all this, if he got to… you know.”

“It wouldn’t be so different from us I bet.” Basil huffed, Sunny always loved looking at certain photos in his album.

“How do you figure?”

He shrugged. “Benefits of being a best friend, I guess.” He hummed as he sifted through the next box set in front of him, finding most of the contents to be junk.

“Lucky you.”

“Dunno, I was too close, I think.” He pulled his lips in a taut line. “Just made things harder when it all happened.”

“There were good sides to it, no? It helped somehow.”

He sighed. “Maybe, but it hurt more than it ever helped.”

Another box, another set of items. Kel returned the other boxes as Basil dug in the new one. Some of them were familiar, picture books they once brought to school. The solar system and the food pyramid, topics that intrigued Sunny more than it did him.

“The illustrations made them less boring.” Kel added as soon as he caught sight of them. “Pluto looked cool at least.”

“That’s like saying the Moon’s cool.”

“But it is!”

“I like Earth a lot better.” Basil said with an exaggerated pout growing on his face.

Kel made a face. “Now that’s boring.”

Basil shook his head. He didn’t counter with any words, but he was satisfied with his opinion. He’d take a planet that people and all sorts of wonderful things can live on over any oversized gas giant, and over any glorified moon besides.

Sifting through the next few, he realized these were more personal selections: pet rock strategies for Sunny, and tofu recipes for his dutiful sister.

Now those were dearer books to him.

He had far better interest in them, partaking in both pursuits himself. They had good taste, in different aspects of life. He thumbed through a few pages of the cookbook, chuckling to himself as it hailed the dishes as some elixirs of life— panacea and alleged cure for all sorts of things. And he thought he was obsessed with tofu.

Kel kept any comments to himself, though his face made it quite clear he didn’t see the appeal of the soy product. Basil hoped to rectify that someday, maybe when his cooking was up to chops. Either that, or he could send a few puppy-dog eyes Polly’s way and have her try a hand at it. Whichever. There was just one more book inside, lying at the very bottom. The dim lights made it hard to see the cover, so he leaned over and peered overhead.

He just about managed to stifle a sigh. ‘Duets for Piano and Violin’. He’d seen it almost a thousand times, in a summer long past.

“You know, I wish it happened.” Basil mumbled to himself. It was supposed to be a wonderful day, for all of them.

“Who didn’t?” Kel shot back, almost stunned that it needed to be said.

Basil shrugged. “Dunno. I just have the weirdest feeling sometimes.”

“About what?”

“Lots of things. But I guess it’s just that… of all days, things really had to go south right smack on recital day.” He handed the book to Kel as he thought about it further. His friend opened it up, flipping slowly through the pages as he continued. “Some cosmic timing, huh.”

Kel winced as the memories bubbled to the surface. Basil could almost see the specific recollections bubbling in the boy’s eyes, his attention keenly on Kel’s pained reactions. Sometimes, he wished he never told Kel all that he saw that day. Maybe the boy was better not knowing. The sirens, the stretcher, and the very last time he saw Sunny, before he was wheeled into the emergency room. All those senses burned their way to permanence in his mind, and on Kel's.

And for that, he was very sorry.

But Kel's reactions were only natural, the whole thing was just horrible. The starkness of it, the contrast of the excitement they all felt just minutes before, to the panic that engulfed them soon after.

“Do you still see it, Basil?” asked Kel.

A question that hardly required thought to answer. He nodded. Kel could already see a great deal from secondhand information, what more if it was firsthand?

He could still see it clearly, all of it. The way he saw it, the way his brain took it all in. Countless bruises mottled Sunny’s fair skin. His left arm had bent at an irregular angle, a prominent bump poking at its side: a compound fracture. His legs were largely unscathed, though a bit scratched up. He could still remember the worst injury, no doubt the one inflicted on his face.

Sunny’s jet black hair, stained red, had splayed over his pale face, concealing most of the damage; but that didn’t stop him from seeing something sticking out of his right eye. The dark wood of the object was stained even darker by the blood bubbling from the puncture. He never did figure out what it was, some part of him was glad for that. It shielded him from any more gruesome pictures in his mind.

The creased furrow of his brow, running over the hardening lines of his face, told Kel more than any words of response. “I’m glad I didn’t have to see it.” he said.

“It was awful.” Basil managed, his words sounding more terse than he hoped.

“So you’ve said.” Kel attempted a sympathetic smile, thumb halfway through the book still in his hands. He looked back at the pages and sighed, his eyes seemed to linger on it for a moment, before snapping the book shut completely. “I kinda wish I was there for ya, as much as I’m glad for… not seeing it.”

“I forced myself into that ambulance. That’s on me, Kel.”

“I could’ve too.”

“But you didn’t. And that’s fine.” He shifted his weight to ease the burden on his legs, humming to himself as he did so.

Silence, Basil was beginning to think this was all he was going to be left with by the end of all this. But Kel had other plans.

“You don’t regret coming here, do you?”

He shook his head. “It can’t be helped.” He stood up, stacking some of the boxes he could still reach. “I’ll take anything to reminisce.”

“We can’t go back.” Kel helped along with the ones higher up. “I wish we could.”

Basil huffed mirthlessly. “The what-ifs, aren’t they just great?”

“Nothing but the best.” Kel huffed. He dusted off his hands as he tidied himself up. Basil opened his mouth for a good-natured retort, before he paused, noticing the last book still in Kel’s hands.

“You’re keeping that?” he asked. Kel wasn’t one to own, much less play, any of the instruments the book taught for.

“For now. Like a memento, sort of.” Kel slipped the book under his arm as he brushed himself off. “Helps keep me grounded, I think.”

“Grounded, huh?”

The siren…

It rang endlessly in his ears.

The white halls…

On and on, with no end in sight.

Dead on arrival…

Was there any other way?

“You have something in mind?” Kel asked.

Basil blinked slowly, the visions still playing crisp and clear. “I… don’t know.”

Was there really no other way?

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

A cold sweat.

Hero could feel the dampness on his shirt. Even his hair and pillow were equally cursed with the blight. An unfortunate event, really; unless some goblin made some mischief with a rain cloud right above him, this was all his own body’s doing.

When he was finally lucid enough to move, he mopped his brow with the back of his forehead, wincing in delayed regret soon after. As the beads of sweat rolled down to his arms, he started to feel increasingly sorry for the misfortune he subjected his hand to. The longing for a dry towel only grew.

He rolled onto his side to shield his vision from the sunlight streaming into the room. Even the full-faced vista of tacky medals was a better alternative to staring at the sun. It was better than burning his eyes in some unhappy accident at least.

“Man.” He muttered aloud in a groan. He wondered what got him all clammy this morning. A myriad of answers floated about in his head, but in truth, it couldn’t have been anything other than a dream. It was likely a bad one— a no-brainer statement, but was the only thing he could say for sure.

Nightmares were usually memorable, painfully so more often than not. He was only afraid of very few things, that more than likely made up the crux of that unfortunate dream. It begged the question, of course, of what he dreamed about this time, but as far as he could tell, he was drawing blanks every step of the way.

He had a few ideas though on what it might’ve been— and one in specific trumping all others. Maybe that key was still latching things shut after all, maybe that was a good thing, but it just made him feel all the more sorry for Mari.

That was a fact he was never going to live down.

When common sense finally returned to him, it dawned rather quickly that he had to rouse himself off the bed, preferably sometime this morning. He was half-tempted to roll off the side of his bed, like some lazy Ferris Bueller type. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea, and he was just about ready to pratfall before a muffled call to breakfast stole his attention, and shook his bravado some. The act didn’t feel so straightforward anymore, maybe his body was worth more than it seemed.

His legs swiveled out as he prepared to rise properly from his mattress. He could at least laugh at the thought of his former intentions, a dry heave of a chuckle rocking his body for just a moment.

It was only then that he noticed the time. Half past nine wasn’t bad by any means, but he did miss the chance for an early morning jog. With faint heart and noodly legs, he really needed it. If his continued lack of athleticism was any fault at all, college would only serve to break it further into a possible weakness.

Now that was something he couldn’t abide by.

He took a moment to chuckle at the thought, thanking the heavens for his rather chipper mood. Forgetting wasn’t all bad perhaps, but not everyone could say the same. It only meant he had places to be.

Lord knows she would need him.

He’d ditch breakfast if he could, but his mother was more than happy to keep him off that track. So down the stairs he went. Surely he’d find some way to sideskirt.

He wasn’t two minutes down there before he raised a few eyebrows. To see him swallow instead of chew, it was only natural to startle in such a way. There was no doubt his remarkably quick descent to the dinner table didn’t do him any favors either— but to his credit, he didn’t gag or choke once, an achievement all on its own. Wouldn’t Kel be proud of the sight.

Or maybe not. It was with that thought that he sighed. There was no trace of Kel all morning.

But he had other things to think about. Haste was his first priority, and his last bite of breakfast was the starter gun to his flight from the house. Of course, he had enough courtesy to bid his parents a hearty farewell. He loved them all the same after all; it never gave him pleasure to gain their ire, in any case. Like him, they had other, better things to focus on.

A girl!, he remembered his mother exclaiming some months back. God bless the ultrasound, he’d never seen her so happy. It wouldn’t be long now before the scheduled hospital date came to pass.

Until then, he figured he'd have to skirt around any possible egg shells— he read somewhere that anger wasn’t good for fetal development. But that said, the news didn’t change his parents substantially, amidst all the excitement. His mother was still the feisty, but lovable mother she always was; and ever the go-getter, his father had begun a new woodworking project. If a crib could be cobbled together DIY, he supposed the Sears catalog could go to hell.

His mind settled as he stepped onto the sidewalk, and paced the Faraway streets, his ever-present friend. He wasn’t going to be on them for long, he was only going next door.

The doorbell buzzed with a satisfying hum; he leaned back on his heels as he waited. The door opened a crack, and as usual, Mari’s mother peeked her head through the new opening before pulling it back fully to welcome him properly.

It didn’t say much, of course, about how Mari herself might currently be feeling, but her mother was her usual bright self, at least. Though, with muted eyebags and a reserved expression, she was a little tired-looking, but that came with age— if he could say that with any due respect— and circumstance. She was pushing into her fifties now, and that came with some changes, but Lord knows she wasn’t chipper for a while, for very different reasons. None of the others were either, him included.

Light conversation popped up as he was led inside. Ever the host, she offered a few pieces of desert, home-made as it soon turned out. He took some gratefully, if not just for politeness’ sake. It was to be sparse consolation, he sighed.

“She’s not here?” He arched an eyebrow, creasing the rest of his face in a worried expression.

“She’s not alone, if that’s what you're worried about.”

He managed a chuckle, what was it with mothers and telepathy sometimes? From further elaboration, it seemed Aubrey saw it fit to drag the poor girl out to some escapade. “Any idea where they went?” he asked.

“They’re all grown now, I really don’t need to know.” Mari’s mother waved a hand faux-dismissively. “But when you hear shopping, you have a fairly good idea of where they’ll go.”

“The Plaza then?”

A knowing smile brought some life to her eyes. “They haven't been on a girl's day out in years, try the next town over.” She hardly stifled a chuckle at the surprise that struck him just then.

“Her dad brought them over?”

She chuckled with some amusement. “He’s still knocked out upstairs.”

“Greyhound then?”

She nodded. “It's not the first time they've ever taken a bus.”

“Last time would’ve been three years ago.” he mumbled off-handedly.

“Who’s counting?”

“Seems I am.”

“People don’t forget how to ride a bus, Hero. They’ll be fine.”

He shrugged. “You can’t help but be worried, you know.”

“I’m not.”

“Too much faith in Mari, I’m guessing.”

“And you have too little.” she countered. “I’m glad for your help with her, but she’s as independent as they come.”

“With Aubrey, I don’t doubt that one bit.”

Another chuckle from the woman. “Not just that, but it always helps. She’s not my baby girl anymore.”

“We’re not all that different.”

She huffed mirthfully to herself. “Well, maybe not you, Henry ‘Hero’ Rodriguez with a new gold medal.”

“Some knight’s name that is.” He snorted.

“Because you are,” she looked at him knowingly, “at least to her.”

He managed a wry smile at her words. “That’s the ideal.”

“Of course. But,” she looked away, eyes pulled wistfully in the middle distance, “she really does think the world of you, Hero. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“That’s not some kind of warning, I hope.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you mean.” She muttered with a low chuckle. “Just be yourself. You’ve never done any harm that way.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Everyone has things they aren’t proud of.”

“Of course.” It wasn’t a matter of pride, though, not one bit of it. On and on time went, and so did that sentiment grow. He wondered if Mari thought much the same.

Or if he did. But maybe it was far too late for that.

Chapter Text

Saturdays, one of those days you’d be overjoyed to hear after a long week at school. The start of the weekend, and all the things planned for those days. The realization was a fond memory to most. Little wonder, school was a great equalizer sometimes.

And they’d treasure those days. By any simple mathematics, two days was far fewer than five, and it was never long before the weekday, and school’s cruel embrace, came knocking on the door.

But in summer’s respite, those old classic breaks, when every day feels like a weekend, the feeling tends to wane, replaced with another. These summers always last forever, don’t they? The cause of a cliched symptom.

Lazy summer days— they pass in the blink of an eye. So it’s often said.

And so they did, day after day. They breezed past June and tagged July. And August was barely a blip.It passed on and on, until the weekend, until Saturday, the last Saturday of the summer. The back-to-school season, so to speak. It was nothing more than a two week tagline on most stores, but the morale drop done in those two weeks was nothing short of staggering. Basil always wondered how schoolchildren coped.

Hell, he wondered how he coped.

There’s no better end like things looping back in a circle, he supposed. There was something poetic almost, about the resurgence of fear. The misconception was gone. Temperatures were down, and the leaves weren’t so green anymore. Like school days of old, the start of the weekend was to be the start of weekday anxiety. The end of respite, the end of summer.

“It’s your worry, as usual.”

Basil couldn’t help but smile at the sentence. After all this time, it was only right that old Dr. Galen could read his mind with no fore-input. More than two years now since the start of their sessions, a godawful amount of time.

“As long as the weekday exists,” said he, trailing off purposefully. The good doctor knew the rest.

“It can’t be helped, Basil.”

“Oh I know it can’t.” He chuckled. “You know, it gets me curious more than worried sometimes.”

“The anxiety’s wearing out, I see?”

“Maybe.” He scootched along his seat to find some settled comfort.

“I doubt school would change much of your good fortune so far.”

He shrugged, propping his head up with one arm. “We never know.”

“And that’s why we try to be active participants. It’s a shame to leave things to fate.”

“Fate always finds a way.”

“You’re right, it seldom doesn’t.” Dr. Galen nodded with some sympathy, tapping his notebook all the while. “There’s a few instances of that that come to mind, I assume.”

“There always is.”

“Do you mind if we talk about them?”

He shrugged. “Where would you like to start?”

The therapist smiled in turn. “Where would you want to start?”

Basil looked off to the middle distance, ephemerally past his bedroom walls. The good doctor followed his gaze. They shared a knowing look.

“I didn’t see her this morning when I came in.”

There wasn’t much to say, it was certainly a sore topic. “She’s not doing great.”

Dr. Galen looked sadly away. “Arteriosclerosis, I hear.”

“So her doctors say.” Such a complicated word, for such simple and evident symptoms. “She’s still out and about sometimes, though.” If he could call the limping ‘out and about’, at least. The less they all acknowledged the nearby wheelchair, maybe the later she could stave off dependency on it..

“That’s good to hear, I suppose. She’s a lovely woman.”

Said just about everyone who’d met her. Basil could smile at that, at least.

“I’d hate to see her leave.”

One hell of a euphemism, Basil stifled a wince. He nodded in agreement all the same. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”

“It ought not to.”

“But we never know.”

“That’s always the rub.” The pen and notebook were off to the side now; Dr. Galen seemed to stare right through him with all his attention. “But that’s where hope comes in.”

“It’s just for peace of mind.”

“Peace of mind does wonders to stave the jitters off.” He smiled wryly. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’d rather have my grandma.”

“And I get that. I know it’s hard to keep thoughts of the future out of your head. But she’s still here, in the present moment. We can’t let the future spoil our enjoyment of the present.”

The future. It felt like some mystical far-off land once. It made for easy putting off.

But the future could come all too quickly now.

“We don’t have much time left, you know?”

“That’s not something we can say for sure, Basil.”

He glared for a moment. “I think we can be honest with each other.”

The therapist frowned. “I know it means a great deal to you Basil.” He looked a lot more determined than hurt though. “Cherish those moments, then. All those moments with her. Let there be no regrets.”

Basil chuckled mirthlessly. “You know there always will be.”

“We can’t do much about that, I’m sad to say, but the effort should be a consolation.”

“... when she…” the boy added near-instictively, trailing off soon after.

“Yes.” was the therapist’s solemn answer.

Another dry laugh. “I don’t think I could take it, you know?” With the very thought of it, he could feel himself shuddering.

Dr. Galen didn’t look much better, his stoic demeanor soured by a tight grimace. “I pray you do.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” He remarked. “You’re a religious man, then?”

“There’s solace to be found there, I think.”

“So Aubrey says too.”

“And she may be right.”

“As you’d be too by default.”

“Naturally.” he muttered in jest, bringing enough levity for the two of them to share a brief chuckle. “It never hurts though, to have some faith.”

“In Him?” Emphasis just enough to imply that alleged divinity.

“In other things, if you so wish.” The good doctor managed a warm grin. “Faith in good winning over the bad, faith in things turning out right.”

“More like wishful thinking, the way I’m hearing it.”

“There’s always room for realism, but you have to admit that humans work far better as optimists.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“And so it’ll be.”

Basil arched an eyebrow. “And if it doesn’t turn out the way you imagine it to be?”

He huffed. “Then God help us all.”

Chapter Text

The clip-clip of gardening shears, what a rhythmic sound. In the silence of a still, summer day; only birdsong gave it any accompaniment. A sound as sharp as the tool making it, preceding the duller snap of stems and roots it rent in twain.

Kel very much loved that sound. Like some auditory stim, it scratched an itch that plagued him deep in his mind.

The tool was in Basil’s hands, maybe that’s where the rhythm came from. The way they seemed to glide from nook to nook, pruning imperfections he could only dream of spotting, there was a flow there. In less experienced hands, the musicality he so loved about it would be gone— in anyone else’s hands, at least.

Basil seemed the only man for the job, the only one good at it.

Kel was never one for paying attention though. Absolutes like 'only' just served to highlight the depths of his ignorance, he supposed. He broadened his gaze some, widened his view. Basil’s grandmother was a gardener once, wasn’t she? A damn fine one too from what he could remember.

The very bush Basil tended to wouldn’t have survived without her intervention. Six months without their usual gardener; she made sure they lived to see the day he came back. In his old visits, he’d often see her there, outside, a trowel and watering can in each hand. She always had a determined expression to complete the look.

Not so much of that now, he was sad to say. She wasn’t much for the outside these days, or so her doctors insist. It was with some dogged stubbornness though that she defied this mandate time and time again. A quick glance was all it took to spy her, watching them as usual, from an easy chair on the porch side.

Every so often, he’d catch both grandmother and grandson exchanging looks, flitting glances here and there. They needed the assurance perhaps, that the other was still there. Basil’s blue eyes had a sparkle to them, as damp things often did. Something about that squeezed at him, right in the chest, panging almost.

Maybe he needed to say something, to stop them from breaking down inevitably. There would come a point where the emotion was too much, surely.

Or, maybe it was to stop himself from doing much the same.

He didn’t have much in mind; he asked about the plants. He’d laugh if it wasn’t terribly awkward to do so.

Basil beamed at the question though, maybe that’s all that mattered. Setting his shears to the side, he seemed more than willing to talk his ears off.

For once, that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Well, these here are roses. They grew into this big great bush here.” The boy almost patted it like an animal. “You can’t tell though; most species don’t bloom in the fall.”

Fall. Only a few days now until the resumption of school. Close enough to call it that, he supposed.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen it bloom, actually.” he confessed.

Basil took his words in stride. “You don’t look at them long enough for that I think.”

“Fair enough.”

“It’ll bloom come springtime though, maybe earlier.” It wasn’t often to see the boy with a sly look on his face. “Early enough for some Valentine’s gifting even.”

It brought a smile to Kel’s face. “Cris isn’t the flower type of gal.”

“Never hurts.”

“Sign me up. I’m sappy enough.”

“Girls eat that trait up.” Basil shrugged for a moment. “I’m sure she will.”

Wouldn’t that be a sight? Kel thought about it for a moment. It’d sure make his status with her feel a lot more official, whatever that ultimately meant. He said as much to his friend, who managed a soft chuckle.

“I’m sure that’s how it’ll go.” Basil flecked bits of dirt from his gloves as he brought himself to his feet. “If you feel strongly about it, you can always give her some of these.” Flowers of the warmest orange, that’s what the shoot was eventually going to be, at least. Kel knew that much.

“Marigolds?” he said, only mildly concerned that he was wrong.

“Good eye.” Kel could breathe a sigh of relief. “Pretty hard for me to tell myself.” No blossoms flowered then. Basil hummed. “All the more reason to look forward to spring, I guess.”

“I’ll set the date.” He couldn’t help but quip.

“Happiness and Optimism, that’s what the books tell me those blooms mean, at least. It’ll be worth the wait.”

“Sure. I’m feeling optimistic.” A feign, but it ought to keep his friend in good spirits.

“Never hurts to look forward to something.” A chipper answer at least. That’s all that mattered.

“Sure is. You’ve got a few things to look forward to, I bet.” He brought a hand up to stall any preemptive replies. “Besides the plants blooming, I mean.”

“Some new books are coming up this quarter.” The boy shrugged ruefully though. “But that stuff only really matters to me.”

Kel for one itched to rectify that souring mood. “As long as you like it, that’s all you need, no?”

“I like sharing, Kel.” He rolled his eyes. “Or at least I try to.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

A faux worried chuckle. “I sure hope not.”

“As long as it makes you happy.”

“You know it does.”

“Then it’s all coming up roses now for you.” It seemed like the best of news.

But maybe it wasn’t, Basil frowned for just a moment before regaining his composure. “Not exactly. But… we’ll see.”

“We gotta keep our hopes up in any case.”

“So my therapist says.”

The bespectacled man that showed up every Saturday; smart man, that guy. He never had the pleasure of a conversation with him.

Maybe that was a good thing, he might’ve charged for his time.

“He's right.”

“He usually is.” On that they could agree on.

Kel picked the garden shears up off the ground. “You've got us at least.” He handed the tool to Basil. “You've got nothing to worry about.”

His friend nodded, though a mirthless huff erupted all the same. “I know.” He motioned for him to follow. “I'd feel a lot better if you did one thing though.”

A request for once. “Let's hear it.”

The two paced a few feet away from the old rose bush, to a large potted plant right by the house's corner.

“Nice plant.” Kel remarked preemptively.

“Cattail,” said Basil.

Plant tangents, a Basil staple. It only really meant one thing. “What does it mean?” He asked rather pointedly.

They exchanged knowing looks. Basil didn't look surprised in the least. “Peace. Think of it like an olive branch.”

“I don't fight people, Basil.” A sudden, steely gaze quickly shook his bravado though. “Not this time at least.” he amended.

“He's leaving for college soon. You might as well seal any cracks.”

“He cracks them himself.” Kel spat venom, his brow furrowed for just a moment. “Hard to fix that.”

“Kel.”

“I've tried a few times before.”

“And the two of you are civil now.”

“Civil, but we're supposed to be brothers, Basil.”

“You still are.”

“Doesn't feel like it. He's just so distant from all of us.”

“Did he ever say anything about it?”

“He wants to help Mari.” That's what he said the first time.

“I think we all do.”

“Only Mari.” He hardly spared the effort to suppress the deep grimace forming on his face. “Do we… even matter?”

His friend was at a loss for words. It gave him the window to talk further at least.

“I want to ask him, you know? But, I think it'll hurt him.”

“But you can't leave it in limbo forever.” Basil managed to say in a whisper.

“What can I do?”

“Talk to him, I guess, while you still have the time.”

“Just like that?”

“It never hurts to try again.”

“And if it doesn't work again?”

Basil sighed. “You try again.”

He managed a chuckle. “I wish I had your optimism.”

His friend chuckled in turn, a lot more mirthlessly than he did. "I really don't."

Chapter Text

“Back again.”

Hero huffed dryly, it seems he was.

A shadow lingered overhead, to cloak the preacher in darkness. The late morning sun did its damndest to shine through all that stained glass. Flanked by evergreen trees as it was, full illumination was a hard bargain.

But still, the man's warm spirit shone through, brighter even than the sun.

“There's no service today. I'm sure you know that.” The preacher flashed one of his usual smiles. “So, what can I do for you today?”

Hero merely looked on, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“I suppose you want to talk. Back there then?” He pointed off to the door in the rear. “As usual?”

The very thought of it, wherever that door led, Hero could feel a shiver in his fingers, an electric tingle shooting to the tips.

“Maybe some other place this time.” Some distance was all he needed, or so he hoped. He had a bad feeling about it.

“As you wish.” Almost like some servant. It only made Hero feel all the worse for it. “We always have this main room.” The preacher feigned a sniff. “Awfully stuffy though, if the Lord would allow me that one comment.”

“I suppose He would.” Hero replied with the start of an amused huff.

“You wouldn't mind a suggestion from me then, I hope?”

“Of course not.” The man never asked for much, in any case.

“I'm sure you've seen me on a few walks in the past. I find them calming, whenever I'm in a stressed fit.” Hero had the oddest feeling that he was looking right through him. “I think you need it.”

“So do you, I assume?”

It brought a chuckle on the preacher's lips. “The sermon's not until tomorrow. I can always walk then. But, I think this is important.”

“I'm flattered that you think so.” He felt a rueful smile tugging his cheeks just then.

“The Lord always finds something in us to love. That makes us all important, I think.”

“How awfully kind of Him.”

“Kind or not, I'd like to see this matter through.” He tilted his head to one side with his next words. “So, shall we?”

Was there anything left to be said about Faraway streets? For many years, these streets were all he knew. The town was a peaceful mix of all sounds, natural or otherwise. The preacher was humming for one, and the clatter of their shoes on the hot pavement was rapt percussion.

It didn’t seem like either of them had any destination in mind. For most, the destination made the moments in between matter, all that traveling and transit. And for a small town, Faraway had a few prime locales.

The Plaza, oddly enough, was somewhat of a tourist destination, courtesy of Hobbeez and their unique tastes in merchandise. The Park was much the same as well— that ancient thing called all sorts of busybodies to flock inside its cast iron perimeter. And there were others still, no doubt, but those didn’t matter to him.

He mused, did any of them matter to him?

“So, tell me about it.”

Hero hummed, so this was how conversation would go.

“There’s always something.” he said, though maybe that didn’t quite answer the prompt as well as the preacher would like.

“At the age you find yourself now, I’m not surprised.” Though he walked one or two paces behind the man, Hero could almost see the wistful look in his eyes, the way he tilted his head gently to one side. “I was your age once.”

An intriguing thought. He wondered what that was like, surely their experiences were far from similar. It was that question that soon left his lips.

“It was an interesting stage of my life I think.” His footsteps helped mask the moment of silence soon thereafter. “I went to seminary though, naturally, so much of the… tumult, was more about my religion.”

“You’ve had doubts?”

“I’m not immune from them. It was a big step, my college so to speak.”

“Was it hard?”

“It rarely isn’t.” He turned to look, though he continued to walk. “We just do our best to move through them.” He chuckled. “Of course, I didn’t experience things exactly as you do now.”

“Naturally.”

“But I find myself looking back on it all with a surprising amount of fondness.”

“Because you survived.” Almost a quip, but Hero meant every word.

The preacher took it in stride. “That’s a given. After all of it, you tend to look back and see that it wasn’t all bad.” He paused, to think further perhaps. “It made me who I am after all.”

It was an odd way of putting it. “You make it sound like you lost bits of yourself in the process.” That was all he could say, to put his thoughts into words.

Cursory glances made it clear that they were walking by the park. They hardly slowed down though, merely flanking the venue. They went on, and on did the preacher talk.

“We always do,” said he. “That’s the human experience. But we try to keep the good parts of us, the parts we like.”

“I’d like that a lot.” A frank confession, somewhat expected perhaps. Like some Ship of Theseus, he loathed to find out where the old Hero ended, and the new Hero began.

Did he change at all?

How different was he?

Every bit of introspection.

Each and every time he ever looked in a mirror.

He could never tell.

“I’ve felt like I’ve lost myself already.” An even franker confession. No filters in his mouth to conceal his words, no mental block to stop it. He’d wince in embarrassment if he could.

The preacher looked on, hardly phased from the look of things. It was a small wonder he didn’t trip, eyes and attention fully planted on him as they were. “It’s fine time for some rediscovery then.” Rediscover himself, like some ancient relic. The word seemed awfully misplaced. “You knew yourself once, no?”

“That’s what we all say.”

“There’s some truth to it. We’re the only ones that can truly see the things in our minds. Your old self, as you might call it, you’ll find it there, locked away I wager.”

“Like an old drawer.” Hero found himself humming.

“Just waiting to be unlatched, yes.”

“To let out whatever’s inside.” A morbid thought struck him just then. “Pandora’s Box.”

An odd look, more amused than worried, but both present in force. “You’re no evil spirit, Henry.”

“Any speck of evil makes the whole thing evil, no?”

“But that’s human nature, that tendency for ill.” A scholarly glow seemed to abound in him. “Humans aren’t without good though. Don’t underestimate that.”

“It’s hard not to think of the former.”

“For yourself?”

He winced. “Is it selfish to?”

“Nonsense. It’s natural to. It’s why we talk so much about forgiveness.” He smiled rather wryly. “We’re all scared sometimes.”

“Amen.” Sincere for the first time in his life, if not for the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“I’ve seen the good in you, Henry. All that care you have for the Suzuki girl.”

A sheepish smile, curving down a little to a grimace. It didn’t feel right either way. “You know how it is, how she is, I mean.”

“I still remember the funeral.” Him leading it as he did. The preacher was nothing more than a blob in his memory of the event, but here he was now, recalling things as he was.

“Couldn’t stand to see it.”

“The procession?”

“To see her that way, I mean.”

“And you took it upon yourself to fix it.” The man gave an encouraging smile. “With every fiber of your being.”

Those early days.

Dark rooms.

Locked doors.

Those damned stairs.

“I just had to, you know?”

“For her sake?”

The day she finally let him in.

Dark eyes.

A locked soul.

It was all still there, trapped in the archives of his mind.

“I made a promise.” He said, almost in a whisper.

“To whom?” The inevitable question.

Splinters.

Falls.

Sirens.

Granite.

He merely frowned.

A knowing smile. “Maybe you need to pay him a visit after all.”

“Before I go?”

“A promise is a promise.” He could feel a lump in his throat grow at the words. “You have to settle accounts sometime.”

Settle accounts, little more than a euphemism for repayment.

Was it even possible?

Chapter Text

Footsteps on hot concrete, the earthy musk of autumn winds. Hero was no stranger to them. It was all awfully nostalgic. It made him remember all sorts of things.

He remembered many things, the myriad of memories in his eighteen years of existence. But still so many stuck out, deep in his mind. He could feel them pricking him, stabbing like needles.

The preacher wasn’t far ahead, and he followed not far behind.

But what were memories if not slips of paper, filled with words? And was remembering anything more than reading these slips?

He could just about see the church steeple, peeking over the evergreen trees. A minute’s walk, and he’d be by the building proper.

“Nervous?” the preacher asked, as he did long ago.

People often talk about pits forming in their stomachs. To him, it was more like a bad case of indigestion. It felt corrosive almost. He nodded to the question.

“The last time I was there…” he trailed off, “the last time I was really there, was the funeral.” Little under three years now. Bit of a disgrace to return now, after so long.

“Wouldn’t be long now til you’re there again.”

“So it seems.”

“Not as enthused as you initially thought you were, I’m guessing?”

A grimace, he wasn’t as good at masking tone as he thought. “I’m not sure I was ever enthused.”

“So you say.” The man hummed. “But it was your choice at the end of the day.”

“Oh, I wasn’t guilted at all.” Sarcasm was a poor alternative to sincerity, but still he quipped bitterly.

“Whatever are you guilty for?”

It was like reading those slips of paper all over again. Hero only managed a dry huff. He was remembering many things.

“A topic for another day, Father.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’ll save the Lord some grief.” And a good many more, he supposed.

The preacher chuckled, almost emptily. “It really doesn’t. It’ll only eat you up.”

Eat him up, he says.

“And the Lord knows everything, like it or not.”

Now that scared him far more.

He could almost feel the slips of paper swirling all around, loose from all their precious slots. They were in those spots for a reason.

“I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“Lord knows it isn't.”

“But any obstacle can be climbed, even fear.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Like that old Psalm?”

“This is no Valley of the Shadows, but you're right, He'll be with you.”

“He's with all of us, is He not?”

“It's what the book tells us.”

The Lord will be with you, or so the adage says.

Some good that did Sunny.

He remembered the mad scramble to the hospital, the long ride there. They were packed in like sardines, him, Mari, the EMTs…, Basil.

Everything's going to be okay, he could still remember the boy saying, over and over again. It was no reassurance. There wasn't to be any.

The preacher stepped up to the church doors, opening them with a grunted effort. Hero followed him inside.

No sooner did the back doors open did the flower boy run after the gurney. Mari would've done the same, but her legs were of no help. They gave out from under her.

Down the aisle did the two walk, the church was deceptively long.

Between the crowd of doctors, he could just about see the red, in bright fluorescents for the first time. Near unrecognizable.

Was that a piano he was hearing? The church's was starkly empty.

The long wait in that blindingly white hall, the occasional sob. Mari was a stricken mess, rivers of dark mascara streamed down her cheeks.

A single string harmony. Shadows seemed to move next to the piano. Lighting misdirection.

Mere lighting misdirection.

Or was it?

A doctor came soon enough. They all desperately hoped for good news.

The back doors opened to the cemetery beyond.

There wasn't any.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” the preacher asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I don't want to impose.”

He let out an amused huff. “That's the last thing you'll ever do. You want privacy then?”

Hero nodded. “I think it's better that way.” He felt rather sorry. “No offense.”

“None taken.” The man arced one hand to the yard ahead. “Carry on.”

And on he went, past fences and gravestones. It was like the funeral all over again.

That was a sight he loathed to remember.

Dry leaves crunched under his feet. Brown and flaky, they were no more alive than the people that lay here.

No more alive than him.

“All this trouble.” He began, forcing up the frown that threatened to form. “No one could've expected it, not even you.”

The last time he saw him, he was being lowered in.

“You weren't alive then either, of course.”

Tinkered and done up with makeup as he was then, it was almost a mercy.

The breeze fluttered, it felt like someone passing by.

And little cracks and crunches skirted by; more leaves seemed trampled underfoot.

His mouth formed a swear, settling on “Jesus.” soon after. “What am I doing?”

Standing awkwardly in front of a granite headstone, with hardly the courtesy to step any closer than five feet away.

He dared not move one more step.

“Look at what happened to Mari.” A bitter lament, a rueful frown.

She was a hermit in those early days, with pillows stacked up much like a squatter's hut. And that was when she let him in.

He felt like a burglar almost, in some foreign space— some hostile space even.

“She kept looking for you.”

Like the young boy was some lost sheep. She was the Good Shepherd, and she was desperate.

“For weeks…” the lie lumped uncomfortably in his throat, “... months.” Maybe years. If he could find some skill in concealment, so could she.

It was a sad day when she finally resigned herself. It was the happiest, and saddest, he'd seen her in a long time.

What was the word, unstable? Bipolar almost.

His shoulders were unbearably heavy.

He had to hold her down.

Why were his shoulders so cold?

“This whole thing… destroyed her, you know?”

Only the winds could hear him now.

“I'm sorry.” was all he had to say.

But so the winds did hear. So it seemed.

The whine of the wisps. “No you aren't.”

Something leapt up to jolt him, through his chest, and down to the soles of his feet.

The shadows were awfully long, but it's just the afternoon.

Just the afternoon.

A stupified stare. “Who—” A frantic search, eyes darting all around.

And so the winds answered. “Forgotten me already, Henry?” Louder, and clearer than before.

It was getting rigidly cold. Where was the light going?

Where did the sun go?

“You aren't real!” Hero almost screamed under hoarse and lacking breath.

“Am I?” Was that a threat?

A terrible squeeze, forcing every drop of blood out of his heart, every gasp of air out of his lungs. His legs weren't so firm anymore.

The headstone seemed to glow, a bright gold streaming where the granite met dirt.

No.

It was dark now, darker than the world around it.

And the darkness seemed to spread.

Faster and faster.

Trailing him, beelining.

In the mad dash to step back, Hero was a stumble away from falling underfoot.

And he did.

But his heel caught him, back foot scraping against the ground.

The more he backed up, the more the darkness seemed to pool around.

The more he breathed, the more the air got sucked, clean out.

Spots darted to and fro. He was suffocating.

No.

Wrong again.

He was dying.

Again the leaves crunched.

Again the dirt scraped under his feet.

The wind howled like white noise.

And he had to leave.

Leave.

LEAVE!

Now!

Chapter Text

Bus stations were often crowded places, with commuters running to and fro, back and forth, from the lobbies to the terminals, and back again. With the people came a terrible cacophony of noise; engines and clacking of shoes, shouts of imminent leaving and questions for directions, the works.

How they usually were, Basil hated going to such places. He always had a headache by the end of his forays. Of course, most people just passed by, lingering there only as long as they needed to. That, he could understand, but he could hardly fathom why anyone would want to stay there though.

One guard he spoke to did. He was odd to say the least. Though he called the man over for inquiries, newfound fascination soon took hold, and so did proper conversation.

“What brings you here anyways?” The guard asked after a hearty chuckle.

“I'm here to meet friends, the usual. I could ask the same to you.” Basil countered.

“It's a job. I'd be a terrible worker if I wasn't here.”

Something about the sincerity brought an amused huff out of him. “True.”

“But that's not what you're asking, no?”

“I don't think I've ever seen you here before.”

“I haven't seen you here before.” The man quipped sarcastically. He cleared his throat for a moment as his face turned serious. “I'm a temp, I work all over the place.”

“Not in bus stations all the time, I hope.”

“Why do you say that?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You stay sane in conditions like these?”

“Yeah.” with a laissez-faire shrug, like it was child’s play. If the noise headache didn't take up more of his attention, Basil would almost be astonished. The guard found some humor in it. “It's not too bad.”

Basil winced at the near-migraine. “So you say.”

“Best to keep your mind off of it, you know.”

The clash and clang. It sounded much like industrial work.

Each ring would ring twice, echoing like some shrill banshee beneath his skull.

“You make it sound easy.”

The man shook his head. “It isn't, but thinking about stuff you like helps a ton.” He arced his head, using it like a discreet pointer, towards all the commuters in sight. “I like looking at all that hustle. It's nice seeing people go places.”

“People tell me it's rude to stare.” Basil mouthed sardonically.

“You'll be surprised at all the things commuters don't notice.”

“What's got you so fascinated anyways?” asked Basil.

“The moving, I've said that already, no?” The man shrugged. “It's part of living well, moving and exploring places. We all do it.”

Basil managed a chuckle. “Not everyone.”

“Oh, but they will. We all need it.”

“Homes and cities would like to disagree.”

“Houses change. Inside and out. Cities grow.” He crossed his arms, and leaned on his back foot. “Nothing stays the same, not even you.”

“You don't know that.”

“Do I need to? When the people we know change, we change with them, just by knowing this new them.”

“Speaking from experience I'm guessing?” Insights like that often found their roots there.

“Like you wouldn't believe.” If Basil didn't know any better, that was a mirthless huff he just heard. “I'd guess those friends you're meeting here have their share of changes too.”

“Some.” Terse, but accurate, to some degree.

“Not enough to stop being your friend anymore, of course. But you know what I mean.”

He did, a nod was enough to suffice for an answer, surely.

“You've reconciled those changes. Could you ask for anything more?”

Basil couldn't give more than a curious glance. “You wax philosophy a good deal for a guard, you know that?”

“You don't need a degree to be a smartass. That's what I've always told myself.”

The two shared a laugh.

“True. But why here?” Once again he levied a curious gaze at the man. “So many other places that could use an ethic like that.”

He smiled in turn, sympathetically almost. “Can any other place show me the beauty of all this? People, moving in tandem, getting places. People, once moving in one direction, suddenly breaking off and taking other routes. Can they show it as quickly and as often as a place like this at least?”

Basil thought for a moment. Of all the mulling that soon took place, this seemed best to say. “You haven't moved enough to see them, I guess.”

The man huffed, amused. “Touché.” There was a sparkle of pride in his gaze. “Maybe you have a point there.”

“I have my moments.”

“Your friends must love you.” If it was sarcasm, it was a poor job at it.

“They wouldn't be my friends if they didn't.”

A chuckle. “I'll leave you to it then.” He tapped the face of his watch. “Time's a-wastin.”

“You've got places to be.” Declarative more than curious.

“Always.” His feet soon moved to leave. Somehow, Basil was sad to see him go.

“Will we ever meet again?” It was enough to get him to turn around.

The man chuckled one final time. “You never know.”

If there was anything he could glean from the man, it'd be the fact that his word was true. The right terminal number, the right time, the right second almost.

“Knowing them,” he could recall him saying, “they'll get delayed a good hour or so.”

Lo and behold, he could just about see the old Greyhound pulling up from afar. He could imagine the way it chugged down the highway, coughing smoke every now and then, finally limping off the exit that led to this side road.

He could almost see his friends inside, napping no doubt from the delayed trip.

They were precisely an hour late.

The squeal of the tires surely woke them up, though. Evidently, it took more than aging drum brakes to slow a heavy bus; at least not in any reasonable amount of time.

Basil winced as the door opened with a sudden hiss. It wasn't long though before his gaze darted to and fro, scanning each passenger that disembarked. They were taking an awfully long time to show themselves. He let the impatience drive him, he'd find them quicker that way.

And they did show themselves, eventually. It couldn't have been longer than a minute, but it sure felt a lot longer to him.

He put a happy face on though, the last thing they needed to see was him upset. It was little more than mild annoyance, of course, but sour faces were deceptively easy to misconstrue.

He was glad to see them, if that was worth saying. The instinctive curl-up of his lips was evidence enough of that. He mimed holding a sign, like in films he'd seen in years past. The two clearly found the humor in it, but Aubrey was the first to laugh.

“Missed me?” She asked, clearly in jest. But he nodded all the same; he did.

“It's sweet of you to see us home.” Mari smiled sweetly, but stiffly, as she said so. Basil was yet to acclimate to the formality, but he shot her a reassuring grin.

“Anytime, Mari.”

Aubrey stifled a snort, skipping over to him, the other girl not far behind. “I bet you were just excited to see us.”

“I guess I am.” He shrugged. “I'm here to walk you two home too, if you want.”

“We'll go the same direction, even if I said no. But I'd like that a lot, don't we, Mari?”

A small smile. “Sure.”

And they were off. Side by side. It was a longer walk than a routine trip to the Plaza, or one of Basil's usual commutes to a friend's house, but it didn't bother them one bit. Walking stimulated the mind; he read that somewhere.

He didn't know where, though.

It was interesting to see the differences in their gaits. Basil considered his own to be rather plain and normal, but who didn't? Mari's was more smooth and refined, likely to ease any strain on her bad leg. And Aubrey's was a bouncy skip. The spring in her step never did fade, did it? There was a youthful energy to it.

And the way she's grab onto him, and onto Mari, as she sped up, not quite dragging them to keep up. There was something rather endearing to it. Daresay, it was adorable.

Who knew autumn days could be so hot, Basil for one felt stuffy under the collar.

Sunny would get a kick out of this, surely. Silent as he was, he was just as much a teaser as his sister was.

But then again, Basil knew enough.

April in the rain, some core memory that was. In some ways, he was both grateful and troubled he could remember it at all. Those red ears.

And now here he was, a touch away from much the same.

It was the same thought that ran around his mind, that still ran around his mind, past the walk, past dropping the girls off at their homes. He was on his own now, and on he walked.

From Aubrey's street, he looped back around to Sunny's. The smell of apple pie made it clear he was past Cris’ house, and soon, Kel and Sunny's house.

What he didn't expect to see was Kel himself. Just out of his yard.

Lord, he looked like he needed a walk too.

“Is something wrong?” It never hurt to ask.

His friend looked more rueful than usual. He managed a tired stare. “It's Hero.”

“Why? What's up with him?”

Chapter Text

The low hum of a car engine, it was time for them to leave. The summer had come and gone; the weekend did too. Monday was a dream away, awfully close for comfort.

It was a wonder how many of them got up so early for this; Kel thought so at least. Besides the required two, and their parents, Basil and Aubrey showed up too, with Cris and Jay in tow. You’d almost think this was the last time they’d ever see Mari and Hero. He’d laugh if the lot of them wouldn’t get upset at him.

“You do good out there champ!” he could hear his father say. “Be the best doctor you can be!”

His brother managed a small smile, a little lopsided if he was to be honest. “Med Student, dad.” He had some pep to him at least.

“When are you gonna be back, Mari?” Aubrey piped in soon after, skipping over to the older girl standing awkwardly by the car. Mr and Mrs Suzuki hardly cleared away before she went in for a hug.

“Three months I figure.” Mari patted Aubrey’s back in between breaths. The girl was squeezing awfully tight— a hand from his playbook in all honesty, but he wasn’t one to charge for royalties.

Aubrey groaned. “That’s so loooong!” She whined, like the petulant child she used to be, or still was, if Kel was entitled to that one put-down. She noticed his snicker though, and glowered accordingly, like some beast.

It worked though, he was intimidated into silence, but not before one last gesture. He stuck his tongue out; it was enough to get even Mari to smile, amused, amidst her own tight situation.

“Stay safe, you two.” That was the crux of what Mari’s father had to say. Her mother meanwhile went in for a kiss.

“She better be safe.” She said instead, though her words found themselves striking Hero right in the heart.

“Yes, ma’am.” Like the boy scout he was.

Kel hummed, maybe his fears were unfounded.

“You think he’ll be alright?”

A quiet voice, discreet. It was only right for Basil to say it that way though.

“Looks like it?”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Basil waved the other two farewell in the interim, faux smile hiding the worry. His eyes creased to betray that facade well enough.

“He's good at pretending.” Between the timid smile and clasped hands, Kel could just about see the real man underneath, the Hero he saw last night.

Basil hummed. “Will it hold, I wonder?”

“The what?”

“The facade.” Cold and distant, that word. Kel could feel the chill zapping up his spine. He recovered enough wits for a response.

“He’ll function at least.” God-willing.

Basil chuckled mirthlessly. “The last time I said the same about myself, I was comatose in bed.”

“No you weren’t.”

“No better word to describe it…” he paused “being stuck like that.”

“You don’t think he’ll go that way, do you?”

A heavy shrug. “I have reason to be worried.”

Kel snorted. “You think I don’t?”

“You told me about last night. I know you're scared.”

“So I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t often Basil grimaced, with steel in his eyes. “So you told me.”

Last night, it felt so familiar. It was like that day all over again, that day three years ago. That brotherly argument they had. The ignoring, the terseness.

Of course, it wasn't all the same. They didn't argue this time. Maybe that was a blessing.

But the way his brother just went to bed, zoned far beyond his wits. It didn't sit right with him.

It was Kel’s turn to frown. “Deja vu.”

“Secondhand deja vu for me.” Basil crossed his arms, putting on a brave face, clearly. No amount of therapy could rid a man of a thousand yard stare, not even someone like him.

Some desperate part of him hoped to the high heavens that it was all a fluke, some coincidence.

“Fingers crossed then?” said Kel. Fingers crossed, like some twisted inside joke.

Basil had a rueful frown of his own. “We'll see about that.” Only time could tell, he supposed.

It was finally time for the last goodbyes. Aubrey was the first to hug, now everyone was, all except the two of them.

“It's time for them to go.” Basil stepped forward to bid them leave.

“Seems like it.” Kel did much the same.

It was a good thing Hero knew how to drive. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Mari took shotgun. It was all too easy to wave through the window, but she rolled it down.

Maybe that said something, maybe it didn’t. Kel sure didn’t know.

The car soon revved to a gentle speed. Aubrey took off after them, pacing slowly with them, to see them for a few moments more. The rest of them followed suit.

“Excited much?” Kel muttered under his breath as he kept pace.

Basil, meanwhile, was out of breath, but still he managed a response. “Three months is a long time.”

“We spent a summer together, didn’t we?”

A huff. “Sometimes, a summer just isn’t enough.”

Kel chuckled dryly. “When is it ever?”

The car wasn't going to be in sight for very long now. Sad as it was, all of them were keenly aware of this.

All they could do was wave, until the sedan was little more than a speck on the horizon.

The end of summer, and the start of many other things.

Whether they were good or bad, well, they just had to find out for themselves.

“Our last day.” Kel could hardly believe it himself. “What now?”

“We do what we love, I guess.” Basil didn't sound so sure. “School will make that awful hard to do.”

“Gardening then? For you.”

The boy shook his head. “Dunno, I might just take grandma out for a walk.” A newer addition to his schedule, understandable though.

Of course, it was enough to pique Aubrey's interest. “Can I join?” was almost inevitable.

Kel turned his nose up in faux indignance. “You never seem interested when I'm going places.”

“That's because you're mean.” She snapped back, half-and-half, in jest and sincerity.

“You're welcome to come along, Aubrey.”

Kel stifled a chuckle, Basil was never going to say no to her, was he? He feigned a shrug and bid the two leave. Leave them to their fun, he supposed.

“Where are you headed?” asked Basil, he seemed rather sheepish leaving the rest of them out of his routine.

“I don't want to crowd. And besides,” he pointed off to Cris and Jay, “someone's gotta babysit those two.” He was glad the two in question were trading barbs with each other, too busy to notice his statement.

Aubrey laughed; Basil shook his head, though he chuckled to himself all the same. Kel bid them their final leave. He watched as they walked off.

It was the best feeling though, knowing that he'll see them later.

Later. So much to do.

But so little time.

Chapter Text

“Hey Sunny.”

The rustling of the leaves, the sounds of chirping birds, layers upon layers of all manner of noise. It filled in for the silence, for all that dead space.

“It’s just me.”

Dead, maybe that was too unkind.

Aubrey tugged at a few strands of her hair, pulling them behind her ears as she knelt down before a stately headstone. She propped one arm over her knees for stability, while the other went to brush off loose debris— from herself, and from her surroundings.

“I thought I’d stop by to check up.”

Loose pebbles scattered like dust, off the granite to the dirt below. Leaves crunched as they were cast aside, away from the words that mattered.

“The nights are colder in his absence.” She read them aloud as they came into view, chuckling with a huff. “We used to talk all the time at night. I’m sure you remember.”

It was a miracle she ever could, really. Her mother could be a hawk sometimes, watching that front door with piercing eyes. But she always managed to slip out under the cover of darkness.

“Dunno why I chose the swings.”

She’d go there, and talk on and on about all sorts of things. He’d always be there, sitting on the other swing seat. He didn’t talk much, he never did, but he never let that get in the way. It was startling, now that she thought about it. Any other person, and it’d be like talking to a brick wall, or the air itself.

“I always kinda felt like you were hanging on every word. Dunno why. You never needed to say anything.” She smiled. “I knew you were listening.”

She’d kick her feet gently, stimming the movement to soothe the jitter in her nerves. The swings would slowly arc to and fro, forwards and backwards. Something about the wind blowing against her hair, and billowing up through the openings of her blouse, helped to this end further.

“I wish I didn’t talk so much though. Maybe you wanted to say something.” It was awfully easy to sigh these days, Aubrey was no different. “I’m not sure I’ll ever know that now.”

He never said anything in the end. Often, he’d swing along, trying his damndest to match her arc. They’d move up and down in tandem for a while, before one of them inevitably fell out of sync. Then they’d try again.

But there was one time— the very first encounter they had there she recalled, after they became friends— he deviated from the subsequent norm, not that she knew at the time. Aubrey let the memory play out, and she smiled.

“You remember that day?” The question slipped out, to some embarrassment. A hot flush overtook her ears for a moment, but it faded quickly.

She could remember it clearly. She remembered crying alone to herself, there on the right side swing. Whiskey and arguments didn’t go well together; it wasn’t the first time she ‘escaped’. She could hardly see, with all those tears blurring her vision. She spared no effort to hide the sobbing, who was there to hear? She was alone.

“I don’t know how the heck you found me.”

Well, she thought she was alone; she just about jumped when she felt a hand land on her shoulder. That’s when she saw him— his outline, at least. There was no mistaking him; she didn’t know him for very long then, but his mannerisms were memorable, so to speak.

She remembered him sitting down on the adjacent seat, the start of a pattern to come. And she talked, spilled even, for God knows how long. She didn’t know why; the words just fell out. By the end of it, all she could do was grip the chains that held the seat up.

“You stood up, and walked around.” It was like she was back in the park, her eyes panned from left to right, until it met the gravestone once again.

She didn’t know what moved Sunny to lean in front of her. Even now, she couldn’t understand why he stretched his arms out, and wrapped them around her. She could only remember burying her face in the folds of his shirt.

“That was too much, wasn’t it?” she sniffled, “God,” blinking away the dampness in her eyes. “This really messed us up, you know?” She tapped the headstone gingerly. “The funeral really got to me.” But by some act of God, she wasn’t the worst off of the five that remained.

“But, I think things are looking up. Me and the boys have been hanging out with Mari again. She’s a little quieter than I remember, but she’s the same old Mari, you know?”

“I gotta bring her here one of these days. She oughta see you from time to time, especially now that she'll be busy with college.” She chuckled. “God, that makes me feel old. I was in grade school when we all met. I’m a few years off from graduating myself now. Basil’s been helping me study though, so maybe I shouldn’t be too proud.”

It was surprising, really. Basil was six months behind on lessons for a while there, but that was some time ago. He was no slouch, learning all of that back in time to pass final exams.

“Heh, I bet you woulda passed too.” Sunny was pretty smart as well. Highschool was a different beast for sure, but Aubrey didn’t let that stop her from believing in him.

“I hope I’m doing things right though. Hard to figure out what that is sometimes. But hey, Kel’s still a pain in the ass, Basil’s still a cute little dork (he’d agree with that, surely), and Hero and Mari are around again.” Sunshine and rainbows, Basil would say. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Maybe the next time I visit, I’ll bring her along. Until then, maybe you’ll see each other in your dreams.” She looked over the headstone, smiling at the white plant that still flanked it from behind. “Basil tells me he does.” She wrung her hands as she slowly brought herself up, standing back on to her feet. “I wish I did.”

She clasped her hands together, muttering a silent prayer. This was the church’s annex, so to speak, it’d be rude not to. Only an inky blackness met her as she squeezed her eyes shut; for all the preacher’s descriptions, no corporeal deity took form in the shadows. She supposed there was never any need to see anything, as long as she felt listened to.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

She hummed, wondering why Kel of all people would be looking for her. There was no mistaking that voice, or candor. She took a moment to whisper an amen before opening her eyes again. “You make it sound like I’m hiding.”

“Yeah yeah, I know where you went.” Kel settled his hands on his hips. “It still kinda feels like you want to throw me off though.”

“It’d be great if I could, but you always find me.” She smirked as another quip came to mind. “And I thought I was the bloodhound.”

Kel was amused— that she could figure out fairly quickly. “I figured once you got home from the walk, there’d only be two places you’d go to, and I already checked Basil’s place.”

“You know me so well.” she deadpanned, taking a few steps in his direction.

“I’d be a crappy friend if I didn’t.”

“You can’t know everything.”

Kel shrugged. “But I try to, for people.”

“Sure you do— C- in the final exams— yeah.”

“Hey! I passed!”

“You know more about school gossip than math.”

“But I don’t like maaath!” He drawled with a whine.

“You think I do? At least I studied.”

“Says you!” It was Kel’s turn to chuckle. “You got a C+!”

“It’s higher.” she shook her head faux dismissively, a growing smirk on her face.

Kel’s expression was stuck between sober amusement and instinctive annoyance. Something about it made Aubrey laugh even harder. It wasn’t often she got to turn the tables on his pestering.

“You really want Sunny to see this?” Kel finally said after a moment passed.

“He’d like it. It’s… normal.”

He raised an amused brow. “You have anything I can steal then? You can chase me around once I swipe it. Now that’s normal.”

“Only the clothes on my back. You won’t steal that huh.”

“How bout the bow on your—” He blinked for a moment. “Huh, that’s new.”

“You like it? Mari gave it to me this morning, before she left.” Aubrey fiddled with the cloth absent-mindedly as she spoke. It was a teal ribbon, usually used for tying hair back into a ponytail. Mari tweaked it to be attached to a headband of the same color before handing it off. She turned around to face the gravestone. “I bet you like it, Sunny.”

Kel scoffed. “Trying to show off to him now, are ya?”

“Don’t see why not, Mari used to wear this. Might as well let him see something of hers before we bring her here properly.”

“I dunno… I’m pretty dumb, but I don’t think that’s how that works, Aubrey.”

She brought a hand over her mouth to suppress a snort. “Least you’re being honest.”

“I’m being serious too but, I mean, I guess Sunny won’t mind any of Mari’s stuff on you.”

“That’s right.”

“She didn’t give you any perfume, did she?”

“Oh come on!” She flushed a bright pink. “You’re not still harping on me for that huh? I was eleven!”

Kel laughed. “If it’s funny, yeah! Gotta give Sunny some nostalgia, no?”

“Don’t push your luck, Kel.”

“Whatever you say.” He moved forward, skirting around Aubrey to reach the gravestone ahead.

“I thought you were here for me.” Aubrey muttered in jest, kneeling down beside him as he struck up quiet conversation with the granite stone.

“Yeah, but I gotta run something Sunny’s way first.” He thumbed the inside of his pocket as he said so.

“You got something?”

“You could say that.” Kel stood up, prompting the girl to do the same. He took a few steps back before motioning for her to exit with him. “Let’s call it a gift, if you’d see it like that.”

They rounded the bend to the main avenue of the cemetery— little more than a clear path really, almost like an aisle to the church gates. Kel walked in silence, plodding forward until they reached the church’s rear entrance. Aubrey heard the rustle of paper as he pulled something out of his pocket.

A letter, Aubrey had written a few in the past, and recognized it rather quickly. The stationery had hints of yellow on its fringes; it smelled the part too, even against the crisp, autumn breeze.

“Where’d you find it?”

“Their old music book.” Kel frowned, brows hardening for just a moment. “I’ve kept it with me for a while now.” He tilted the letter onto her hands, blank side up. “Flip it over.” She soon did, though some part of her wished she didn’t.

A pink sticker, cut into the shape of a heart, the words To Aubrey written on it in familiar scrawl.

She grimaced. “No…”

Kel carried on, wincing with every new word. “I thought you should have the honor of opening it. I never opened it.”

“Kel, this is— ”

“I know what it is, Aubrey.” Kel tried to smile, succeeding in some small capacity. “I can see the heart.”

She rubbed her thumb against the adhesive, each small detachment snapping with exaggerated staccato. “What do I do with this?”

Kel shrugged. “That’s not for me to say. But,” He shuffled restlessly back and forth, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I’m guessing Sunny wanted to give that to you. It’s yours now, do what you like with it.” He turned back to the door, turning the knob gently and pushing it into the church proper. “I think it’s out of my hands, Aubrey.”

“You left it in mine.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe it’s not.”

A mirthless chuckle, muffled almost from the increasing distance. The door clicked behind him gently. It left Aubrey with her thoughts, and a neatly folded envelope. Was there any right thing to do with it?

“Oh…” she hummed solemnly to herself, “Sunny…”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sunny! What do you think I should do?”

The boy looked her way, tilting his head rather quizzically at the question. The trademark cowlicks on his head bounced as he did so. Aubrey chuckled at his nonchalance.

“Kel’s been badgering me all week to go to Hobbeez to read some comics.” She could still remember the whine in Kel’s voice as he pleaded. That was all well and good. “But Basil’s been thinking of inviting me over to buy some gardening supplies.” Sunny hummed along with her as she mulled the two choices over. “It’s a real pickle huh? Dunno what to pick.”

The boy sat back as she paced around him. She never was good at thinking without a good walk. Sunny’s eyes darted back and forth as she ducked in and out of his vision. The poor guy— any more, and he’d keel over dizzy.

“On the one hand,” she mimed, holding the thought in one palm, Sunny nodded as she did so, “Spaceboy’s got this new arc coming up. You know how we’re both excited for that.” He bobbed his head even harder at the thought. “But Fixit’s garden sounds nice too! Basil always seems to find the most interesting things there. It’d be nice to find some of that stuff with him every now and then.” Sunny seemed to think about it for a moment; a soft expression crossed him soon after.

Aubrey smiled. “Glad to know you agree.” But still she hummed thoughtfully, finger pressed against puffed cheeks. “They’re both good choices though.” She had to admit that at least.

Spaceboy was one hell of a lure, but Basil was a far more palatable choice of companion. All Kel would do is annoy her; she could almost hear the bickering they were sure to find themselves in. She sure couldn’t be in two places at once.

Her gaze went back to her silent friend. “What do you think, Sunny?” She looked at him with expectant eyes. A second opinion never hurt anyone— that’s what her father always told her at least— and she couldn’t get a better second opinion than Sunny’s.

The boy in question seemed to freeze at her question though; she was no stranger to the paralysis of choice herself. Only his eyes moved, slowly moving back and forth, from left to right. She could practically see him weighing the two options in real time, flitting from one to the other. He frowned after a long mull-over; she could tell then that he was especially displeased.

“Can’t decide either huh.” She couldn’t blame him even if she wanted to. “Sorry.” There weren’t many things that could make him frown; Aubrey couldn’t help but feel responsible somehow.

A few seconds more though, and the frown loosened up. Sunny’s eyes shot up as he brought an index finger up in thought, a glorious eureka thought. Plunging one hand into his deceptively deep pockets, his fingers emerged with a coin in tow.

“We flip for it?” A novel idea. She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.” Sunny played with the quarter as she decided which choices to set on which sides of the coin.

With a percussive ping, the quarter shot up, spinning rapidly on its way up. It seemed to hover for a moment as it hit its crest, the spin faltering for just a moment. Both pairs of eyes followed it down as it fell. There was a satisfying clap as it landed cleanly back on Sunny's palm. He flourished it onto the back of his other hand. One proud ta-da moment later, and they had their answer.

“Hobbeez…” She snorted with some contempt. The silvery bust of George Washington seemed to wink mockingly at her as she narrowed her eyes at the results. “Ahh booh.”

Sunny's shoulders rose in a slow shrug. If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn he smiled for just a moment.

For all she knew, maybe he did. The Suzuki siblings were jokers both. Whichever the case, the coin spoke clear enough.

“Can't back out of it now, can I?” She mused just as much to Sunny as she did to herself. Maybe Kel wouldn't be too bad. Sunny seemed to think so; he shot her two thumbs up.

She chuckled. “Maybe if I brought you along, he'll annoy you instead.”

Another novel thought. The frozen look on Sunny's face made that clear enough. Aubrey could almost see a light bulb click on top of his head.

She was rather proud of herself for coming up with the idea. “Pretty smart, huh.” Sunny nodded, to her delight. “That'll show Kel.” The surprise on his face ought to be some consolation. “We better get going. We'll be late for it if we wait too long.”

One determined nod, and another thumbs up. Sunny seemed pumped for it.

“That's the spirit!” A manic grin tugged the side of her cheeks. She grabbed the boy's hand and tugged once. “We gotta run for it!”

Two pairs of sneakers squealed down Faraway streets that day. It was a glorious feeling, the sense of speed, the wind in her hair.

It was a nostalgic feeling more than anything. A long time ago now, almost three years.

Wasn't the best fact to wake up too though.

Aubrey didn't see the Faraway streets now, only the ceiling of her house. But peppered with holes as it was, she could at least see the sky. That was enough for a dry giggle at least.

More than any other emotion, she was confused first and foremost. Was that the first time she properly dreamed about her old friend? Maybe so, not that she wanted to think about it any harder than she already was.

She'd muster tears if she could, but the bafflement skewed her thoughts elsewhere. There was some happiness there too, as far as she could tell. The dream made it feel… realreal, more real at least.

Sensation came back to her as her mind settled. The autumn chill wasn't doing her any favors. She could bear the cold— to a point. She looked over to the rest of her room, scanning each corner for her jacket— or so she called it. It was a raincoat in truth, hued a flashy pink. Her father bought it for her years ago; it was a bit too small for her now. But still she wore it every now and then, for old times sake. It was warm, and that's all that mattered.

She found it soon enough. It was folded neatly by her cracked desk, there by her bedside. Something in her cursed the fact she didn't look that way first, but the rest of her just reached out, and pulled it tightly to her chest. She cuddled it for a brief moment, like some stuffed toy, until she felt an odd, hard corner in it. She dug into the pockets and felt the paper, and sighed.

“Please be another dream.” A weak plea, but an emphatic plea all the same.

Inhale.

Her eyes closed, and so did darkness close over her.

Hold.

She figured that moment to pinch herself. The pain was brief, but some hope glimmered.

Exhale.

Her eyes opened, and the letter was still there. The pink heart on its front, it stared at her mockingly.

A pang of guilt. She squeezed her eyes shut, again. “No no, not mockingly. The heart is nice!” It stared at her nicely.

Such a nice sticker. Why couldn't she tear the nice, nice sticker off? There was more to the letter than just the envelope with its nice, nice, nice sticker. She swore under her breath. “What am I doing?” Maybe the nice sticker will stay on just a bit longer.

In the meantime, she slipped her jacket on, and placed the letter gently by her bedside. Maybe if she looked away long enough, it’d disappear. She coasted off her bed, landing gently on her feet. After a short pace around, she slowed, kneeling down before her bunny’s pen. Bun-bun looked happy at least, if not a little hungry. It’s a good thing she always kept some food pellets nearby. She sat back, contented, as the bunny skipped excitedly around the feed bowl.

“At least someone’s got what they need.” She managed a wry smile as she looked off to the adjacent wall, at the great poster that stuck proudly above her bed. She got it that day— when they all traipsed off to the novelty shop— with Sunny’s money. Embarrassed as she was, he insisted. Maybe she stared at it too hard— the shopkeeper at Hobbeez was one hell of a designer, displaying the thing like some collector’s item. Whatever the case, here it was now.

Her eyes drifted back to the letter, then to the poster, then back to the letter in the span of three seconds. “Maybe…” she trailed off, “no.” Kind acts didn't always mean that . She thought about it further. “Maybe?” Sunny was always nice to her, but he was nicer the closer they all came to the recital.

Somehow, she wondered if he was going to give her the letter then. Even to her, that seemed just about right.

She could almost hear it now. Aubrey, I have to tell you something…

Aubrey…

Aubrey………………………

Aubrey………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Aubrey?”

Her eyes shot up. That was a different voice. Familiar, but different.

“We’re gonna be late, Aubrey!”

Good thing there was a window nearby. “Basil?” The rust in the window hinge prevented her from opening it further. She relented, and squeezed her head through the narrow gap.

She could just about see him, hands on his hips, a flower tucked in his hair as usual. “I’ve been ringing your doorbell for a while now.” He fiddled with his hands timidly. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

She fought hard to keep a straight face. If he only knew they cut the power ages ago. The girl shook her head quickly and motioned for him to wait. She descended the ladder to the floor below, kicking away a few bottles strewn around, contents leaking into the smelly carpet. Of course, her mother was a smart woman; on balance, that stuff was always better than electricity. Aubrey rolled her eyes as she dodged a few more bottles. It was the last thing she wanted on her jacket. She kicked a few out of sight as she opened the front door.

Basil flinched as the door pulled open with a terrifying creak. He almost stuttered with his apology. Aubrey couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“Sorry.”

But Basil recovered quickly, and held his hands up just as fast. “No no! That’s okay. I should be the one apologizing.” He frowned with some shame. “There’s probably a better way of getting ahold of you.”

She managed a sympathetic smile. “Nothing wrong with this.” The smile widened as he seemed to loosen up. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Basil had the starts of a chuckle, but he reneged, concern taking over instead. “It’s Monday, Aubrey.”

Monday?

Oh.

“Monday!” She poked her temples with both pointer fingers, plunged into the depths of some eureka moment, like some discount Archimedes. “Yes, Monday!”

Basil had an amused smile on his face. “The bus’ll be here in five minutes. We need to get going.”

“You waited for me,” the thought scattered, unfiltered, from her mouth, “what a gentleman.”

“My grandma knows all about them.” He bowed his head. “And besides, I can’t leave without my moral support.”

She smiled. “The best moral support!”

Basil hummed, much like Sunny used to. Those two best friends were often of the same mind after all. “Of course.”

“We better run then,” She grabbed one of his hands. She liked where this was going, “or we’ll be late, right?”

With small nods, and determined looks, two pairs of sneakers bounded down Faraway streets once again.

For good this time, surely.

Chapter Text

September was never one for rain. Showers came every now and then— to the greenery’s delight no doubt— but it was a scourge on all the rest. The thick haze was nigh unbearable; it was a miracle anyone got around in those straits, and the cold could be deathly frigid, even for autumn days. But today, Aubrey could breathe a sigh of relief: today wasn't one of those days.

She didn't know about Basil, but it was safe to say she was thanking her lucky stars, and the Lord to no small measure. She remembered the last time she got caught outside in a rainstorm; she was a dripping mess all day. The memory of the frigid temperatures made her shiver now as much as she did then. But, to her credit, she sprinted over to Basil as fast as she could when she spotted him. At least he had an umbrella.

Basil still had one now, but rain wasn't the pressing issue he faced. This early into the season, autumn was just a name, all bark and no bite. The sun always did what it did best. She was lucky for the umbrella once more; she'd be scorched otherwise.

It was a mild surprise that Basil spoke just then. “Still no canopy.” He was clearly musing to himself. She followed his gaze up— and just as she expected, the sun burned right down her retinas. She found herself in an odd conundrum, her eyes were wet as the ocean, but felt dry as a desert. It had to be felt to be believed, and she felt it in spades. It only struck her then what he meant; that canopy sure would've saved her a flashful of pain. She'd chuckle if the tears wouldn't make it a sob.

It was a good thing that Basil didn't notice. His head was still deep in his thoughts, and his eyes scanned other directions. If he did see her in that state, she'd wager he'd panic some. She could almost see it now.

When his blue eyes finally did turn to look at her, it was only for a smile. She recovered quicker than she expected. Something about his simple glee, it made her feel a gentle warmth. Or maybe it was the heatstroke setting in.

She giggled quietly to herself, it really wasn't.

“So much for five minutes.” She tapped her foot impatiently as the time ticked past Basil's estimate. She never expected any different from the bus service, but the heat was getting to her.

“Man.” Basil said in a lower hush than usual.

“I was hoping you'd be right.”

“It's their estimate, I'm just the messenger.” He seemed to hum with a scholarly flair. “You can hate the message...”

“For lying.” She chuckled, carrying Basil's thought forward, “but you can't hate the messenger.” She gave a cheeky smile. “I'll never hate you, Basil.”

“It'll be the end of the world if you did.”

“Don't be dramatic.”

“Pigs will fly.” He suggested, playing along.

“Doesn't sound so bad.”

Basil shuddered despite himself. “You hating me does.”

“Fair enough.” Aubrey didn't like the look on his face. “How are you holding up?”

“Hm?”

“You look tired.” She'd seen it all morning. Basil's pale complexion wasn't all that good at hiding eyebags.

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to catch himself just before any words came out. Another moment passed before he finally said anything. “I've been up since five.”

She sighed, figures. “You were thinking of lying for a sec there.”

He didn't even flinch. “Bad habit.”

“I'm worried even when you say you're fine.” Her eyes turned pleading for a moment. “I know when you aren't.”

There was a glimmer of agreement in his eyes, but Basil shook his head. “No one's that psychic.”

Now that caught her attention. She raised a curious brow. “You believe in psychics?”

“You don't need powers to know someone like the back of your hand.”

“You don't think I do?”

He chuckled. “Even I don't know everything about you.”

Now that was a thought. Aubrey fell silent, any words she had died quickly in her mouth.

He continued on. “You can tell me anything. Don't hesitate to.”

Silence prevailed. She held off on answering. There was no way she was leaving him in the lurch though, without so much as acknowledgment, so she nodded, whatever that ultimately meant to him.

To some surprise, all he did was huff. She followed his gaze as the bus finally rolled around the corner. “I feel the same way.” He arced his arm down and pulled his umbrella shut, depriving them both of its shade. But that was hardly the issue. “We all have things we're scared to say.”

“We'll have each other's backs.” It seemed reassuring enough, if not just the unfettered truth. It was enough for a light smile, at least. He always had a nice smile.

“I'm counting on it.”

“That's the spirit!” She couldn't help but grin widely; she was regaining some dignity as the boy's best moral support. “Keep that pep up!”

The bus screeched to a halt in front of them. They gagged as thick dust kicked up and coated their thighs. A frantic pat-down later, and they hopped on board. It seems they were the first passengers of the day.

“It'll be hard to lose that pep with you around.”

She smiled at the compliment. “I'm a good hype woman.”

“The best!” Basil whirled around to face her, mimicking her candor as well as he could, down to an admirable reconstruction of her trademark v-smile.

A balmy heat swept her cheeks at the sight. For the first time, Basil seemed to cackle. “Now that's an Aubrey I don't see.” He retreated to the rear bus seats, in some misplaced anticipation of a violent reaction, but the giddy smile never did leave him.

She managed an indignant snort as she followed him back there. The driver paid them no mind at least. They settled back for the inevitable wait for other passengers. Basil still looked rather pleased with himself as she sat down beside him, the cheeky little thing. She fanned herself frantically to cool her cheeks.

She had only whispers to say, thoughts for her ears alone. “That was…” she faltered a moment as the words clicked together. Her face still flushed amidst everything, embarrassed to no end, but still she completed the thought, “cute.”

Chapter Text

“Wait, I don't get it.”

Aubrey scratched her head ruefully. Something about all of these shapes was getting on her nerves. Geometry was a tough nut to crack in years past— she thought the worst of it had passed— but, to her horror, trigonometry was just around the corner. She wondered what in the sweet hell she could do with the numbers given.

She groaned. That spinster of a math teacher; she wanted to spread her misery to anyone with the misfortune of talking to her. Math sets of the first day, orientation wasn't a word in her dictionary. It was more like an awful crash course, with a keen emphasis on the crashing.

She toiled admirably, if not a little messily. All her calculations splayed themselves out on the table. Most were covered in harsh scribbles; she hatched out the faultier inputs in dark lead streaks. It was some sight, a worrying one more than anything. If the teacher was as much a pedant in solution clarity as she was in basic manners, Aubrey would net herself a cool F right from the get go in any test.

She flopped over her work eventually, defeated in more ways than one. Her face planted itself firmly across the main answer sheet, miraculously still on top of the steep pile of solution notes she accrued over the hour of furious brain-work. Her hair splayed over the rest. It was a good thing Basil pulled some items out of the way. The last thing she needed was all her hard work swept away by a torrent of orange juice.

Footsteps marked where and when the boy moved. It was all she could count on in her faceplanted state. They dulled away for a moment— no doubt when he deposited the pitcher and cups back in his kitchen— but they soon came back in full force a short time later.

She shifted her head far enough to see a brief flash in the corner of her vision, followed by the crisp action of a shutter. It was only a moment later, and between hearing the electronic whine of rollers in the interim, that she clued in to the camera Basil held in his hands.

She rolled her head further to face him properly, cheeks puffed in a wide pout. “Basiiiiil.”

A smile tugged the corners of the boy's lips as he extracted the finished photo. He set it aside, by the corner of his— considerably neater— share of the table. “I couldn't resist.” he said with a timid smile on his face.

The pout deflated, she never could stay mad at him for long. “It's not my best look.”

He shrugged, eyes shifting for a moment to the photo. “Doesn't matter, you're always photogenic.” There was an odd sparkle in his eyes as he watched the film develop, little by little, the image getting clearer with every passing second. She stood up to sneak a view.

“It doesn't even have my face in it.” She narrowed her eyes at the teal ribbon that posed in its place, stealing the limelight as the rest of her features lay hidden under her jet black hair.

“Wouldn't be the first time.” She watched as he chuckled to himself. “Remember that one time you lost to Kel at cards?”

“He had the dumbest hand.” Her face twisted in a mix of scorn and amusement. “He tried to bluff me into thinking he had an unbeatable set.”

“You saw through it.”

She laughed along with him as they shared the memory. “He's got an awful poker face.”

“But you gotta admit…”

“I had the worse hand, I know.” She could still remember the whoop Kel made as he slammed his cards down, beaming in total victory. Irksome as it was, he outplayed her.

“Too bad Kel stole that photo.” He frowned in faux disappointment. “I had a special place in my album for that one.”

“That cad.” Nothing she could do about it though. She could only hope he didn't look at it too often. God forbid he'd find more reasons to gloat.

Sensing perhaps her distress, Basil shook the new photo with some glee. “Chin up. I've got this one safe and sound. This one isn't going anywhere else.”

Somehow, that didn't make her feel all that much better. “Wooh.” was all she could muster, besides some warmth in her ears. It wasn't the most flattering look for her after all.

“You look just fine. You'll laugh about it in time.”

She managed a chuckle. “You think so?”

“I'll let you pen the description.” He gave her an earnest thumbs up. “You might as well choose how we remember it.”

She'd seen him scribble those notes down in years past. It always added some charm to the photos on display. “Sounds nice. I'll take you up on that offer.”

He nodded heartily at her response. A rosy flush accompanied his smile. “I'm glad for it! I think it's a golden opportunity.” The photo was just about done setting. He picked it up, bringing it closer to his eyes. “Time to start thinking of a quirky description I guess.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

He shrugged. “I might be hyping it up more than I should, but I think it's important to have them in. Adds to the message I think.”

“Message?” It's the first she ever heard of the thought.

“Anything we write down is a message. Some are just a lot more polished. Books, poems…” he spared a moment to thought, “photo descriptions, letters. I think they're all worth reading, so we might as well make them worth reading.”

“You've put a lot of thought to it.”

Basil hummed rather flatly. “I think about it a lot. People can be a lot more talkative on paper, so it's nice to see what they write down.”

“Talkative huh?”

“More or less.”

He picked the damndest words sometimes. She wondered if Basil could read her mind.

“With letters?”

He nodded. “Personal correspondence, I wouldn't be surprised.”

Too bad the letter was all the way back home.

“Go figure.” she sighed.

Well well.

That was a thought.

Chapter Text

“Fuck… again?!”

Aubrey hardly suppressed the swear as she pushed desperately on her front door. She jiggled the knob all the while; decrepit as the door was, the lock held form. She wondered how it did. It was all like some horrible joke, some pathetic attempt at irony.

Of course, the wood was weak and the hinges were loose. It'd fall like a house of cards with a firm kick. It was a tempting decision, she considered it for a moment, but replacement costs, and the inevitable beating she'd get, were effective deterrents.

“Didn't need to go home anyway.” She grumbled, this time under her breath. She tapped the door with the toe of her shoe, ruefully longing for it to crumple in on itself. Sarcasm oozed out of her mouth as she tapped a few more times for good measure. “Not that I needed to get anything.” The letter sat by her desk, along with the rest of her stuff. At least Bun-bun had enough food to last the day.

In time her toes started to hurt; maybe that was the Lord telling her to stop. She sighed, tomorrow was another day, patience never killed anyone. With one final kick, she left, though ‘stormed off’ was a close second description. She stepped off to the streets ahead, huffing all the while.

As to her destination, she figured she'd prefer boarding the night with the least complications. That green roof was always a godsend. The swagger in her stride was waning though, and she stepped lightly as she walked across their garage-turned-front garden. A swift knock later, and she was in.

Polly was the most surprised of the bunch. She stepped back with some surprise as she opened the door. “Back so soon?”

She seemed to be in a light daze from the looks of things. Aubrey couldn't blame her, she only left for home a little under half an hour before.

“Long story.” She bowed apologetically, looking over the poor nurse to see a vacated living room. “Can I stay for the night?”

“Of course!” Expected tiredness aside, Polly replied with startling pep. “They all retired to their rooms, but you’re welcome to use the couch to your liking.” She rubbed her eyes a little as she carried on into the kitchen. “I’ll fix us both a midnight snack while you’re still up.”

“You don’t need to.” She said with a timid chuckle. “Not for me at least.”

“Don’t say that, I’m always happy to cook up a nice meal for anyone.” Polly pulled open the fridge as she said so. “I always make too much, even when I’m cooking all for myself.”

“What are you thinking of making?”

“I found a nice cooking tip on the Net. What do you think about a nice PB&J sandwich?”

“PB&J?” Cooking tip?

“Never thought of buttering the toast before assembling the sandwich. The cholesterol will kill us one day, but not today.” Remarkably laissez-faire for a nurse. She set condiment jars on the counter as she searched above for the bread. “I better thank whoever Papa Chip is. He runs a good website.”

First cookbooks, and now the internet, no wonder Hero liked the guy so much. Aubrey wondered where that book went though. Yet another mystery to think about, best pondered on some other day. “Do you want any assistance?” Her mind went to other matters first.

Polly smiled. “I’ll be glad for it.” She tapped the space next to her, but quickly resumed her work. Aubrey filed in just as she spoke again. “How do you like your crusts?”

“Intact?”

A chuckle. “You’ll be surprised how picky people can be.”

She shrugged. “Seems like a waste of good crust.”

The two shared approving nods of each other, somehow like they were both surprised.

Polly scraped on the filling. “I didn't know you had a sleepover tonight.” Aubrey could see the glint in her eyes as the thought came to her.

Surely there was no way she truly believed that. Aubrey was almost afraid to clarify. She cleared her throat silently. “You know, I was-”

“I'm just being nice, Aubrey.”

The girl started as Polly spoke. She shrugged, go figure, she expected no less. But the nurse wasn't done speaking.

“Basil always tells me when you're staying the night.” She bared a wistful smile. “It's the most excited I ever see him be.”

“That right?”

Polly assembled the bread together, pressing them into their ideal state, cleaved together like the old marriage metaphors always said. She cut them diagonally into triangles, smiling as she finally responded to the question. “Never gets old.”

Somehow, Aubrey could see that. Basil was no stranger to gushing about his flowers. But it was an odd thought too, knowing she was the erstwhile subject of such things. He'll surely be surprised to see her once he wakes up.

“What's on your mind?“

She turned to look. Polly seemed rather pleased with her work, already halfway into one sumptuous portion.

“Just funny thinking that you're the only one here who knows I've stayed over.” She scratched her head rather sheepishly. “They'll get a jump once they wake up.”

“I bet they will.”

“If Basil's as excited as you say…” Aubrey trailed off, leaving the thought to the silence.

“He'll jump out of his skin when he sees you.” Polly chuckled. “You know how he is with surprises.”

“Kel snuck up and scared him on Halloween once.” She took her first bite of the sandwich and managed the rest through full cheeks. “Kel was in a pumpkin suit, but Basil damn near hightailed it down the street.” The shock was simply too much, Aubrey almost felt bad for the boy, if it wasn't so funny to witness.

“You'll give him a heart attack one of these days.” said Polly, her face a mix of faux and genuine concern.

“I'll try not to.”

“We'll see. It'll be a nice surprise for him I think, once he wakes up.” She slowly chewed on the rest of her own sandwich, thoughtfully somehow.

“Something on your mind?”

“That's hard to explain.”

“What's it about?”

Polly stirred, squeezing the bread morsel she still had between her fingers. “Well, it's about Basil, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I did say hard to explain. He's in his grandmother's room, if that's any place to start.”

Aubrey dropped her sandwich in her newfound confusion. It landed with a dry plap. “You mean right now?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he was asleep.”

“I'm fairly sure he is.” She frowned only slightly to her distant look, lost in the weeds as it was. “It might be easier to show you.” She rose, and beckoned her to do the same.

They approached the room with lighter and lighter steps, until it was no more than a patter on soft carpet, near inaudible. The only challenge left was the door, and Polly handled it deftly, to much deserved credit. It hinged open without as much as a groan, a feat thought impossible, but it was made manifest for once in a sapphire-blue moon. And speaking of which, only moonlight illuminated the space, the two dared not open a light, even in the hallway they just left.

“I see.” Aubrey said that much, almost wordlessly. Faint light bounced just enough to line one side of Basil's silhouette. He was slumped back on a cozy armchair, head leaned precariously close to the end of the backing, though not far enough to give him any unforeseen whiplash anytime soon.

So, he sat by her bedside, watching his beloved grandmother. Like a deathly loyal soldier, standing in attention, in vigil… no no, not in vigil. There was time for that yet— not any welcomed time, at least.

“He does this…” Polly trailed off, “often.”

Oftentimes, Aubrey would wonder.

This wasn't one of those times.

“How often?”

“Often.”

Safe to chalk it up to all the time then.

“Oh.” The more she looked, the sadder the view became. It never took long for details to pop in, nevermind after her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even in his unconsciousness, one of Basil's hands squeezed one of his grandmother's.

“How is she?” She never did stop to ask, not in a while at least.

“Peppy, most times.”

“When isn't she?”

That got a chuckle out of the nurse, hollow as it was. “When we talk health. She's crabby then.”

“She's a fighter.”

“And that's a good thing.” The two looked on, eyes latching onto the old woman's chest, watchful of its gradual rises and falls. “But, you can't really fight heart disease. Not at her age.”

“She's not that old.”

Polly didn't bat an eye. “She's seventy-five.” Her voice dropped down to a murmur at the number, like she feared the woman would hear her through the fog of sleep. “She's doing well though, all things considered.”

Aubrey piped up quietly. “Things are looking up?” A valid question for once.

“I'm optimistic. But,” She sighed. “I don't think Basil is. I can't blame him though.”

“He's scared.” Aubrey knew she'd be scared too.

“I understand that. It's what I signed up for. It's tough going though, I wonder sometimes if I'm doing something wrong.”

“Why do you say that?”

Polly frowned, stepping back into the hallway for a moment. “You know how he is, he's not all that open with me.” She shifted from foot to foot. “I wish he was. I just want to help as much as I can.” Aubrey just watched as she moved back in, gingerly tucking her arms under Basil.

“You're moving him?”

She turned for just a moment. “To his bed. I think it's for the best.”

Aubrey stepped back, giving way for Polly, and her unconscious caree. This wasn't the time to offer help; she didn't know how to lift a person up in any case. Kel did most of the work the last time a thing like that happened, sad to say.

The trip was a short one, thankfully. Polly's steps were heavier, but that was to be expected. But Basil hardly made more than a whisper. He slept far deeper than she ever thought.

“Pull back the covers, Aubrey.” A swift order. She dared not disobey.

And, as gingerly as she picked him up, she set him down with as much care, if not more. Polly could breathe a sigh of relief, silently, of course. Basil's undisturbed slumber was a point of great victory. He looked unbelievably peaceful.

“That's settled.” The nurse said it to herself more than to anyone else. She wrung her hands, easing each joint with a soft pop. Aubrey took her lead in leaving the room. She watched as the older woman left ahead, presumably to clean up, and turn in for the night, and so was she.

But, routine as it was to retire to the couch. An odd weight seemed to pull her down, pull her back. She was no more than five steps from the floor, but the number now only seemed to grow. Ten steps, twelve steps, fifteen. She stopped short of bumping into the side table behind her. Basil slept noiselessly to her right. She felt lighter then.

Next to Basil, now that seemed just about right.

A quiet night, in a quiet room. Amidst the still, keen eyes peered through the darkness. Only moonlight aided this practice. If Aubrey could see herself, she'd be verily stunned. Her eyes almost glowed, a faint halo circling her irises, like some feline hunter.

Her prey? It was nothing of the sort, but her gaze glistened all the same. Under the pale light, blonde hair was an alluring sight, mesmerizing even. The dichotomy stuck out like a swollen thumb; it was like seeing a bright, lively house turn chipped and wasted. All that gold vibrance, once seen in neat locks, gone; and, in its place, a pervasive gray.

But, perhaps, every house lost its luster in the cover of night, when all the lights are laid down low. If the thought had any truth to it, it'd be the only thing that gave her any sort of comfort. That was all good for thoughts, but as for sights were concerned, there was enough comfort to last her a lifetime, or so she hoped.

Blonde hair, almost a pale blue in the dull moonlight. She chuckled, a flower still lay tucked within his neat locks, tousled only by the tumult of sleep. It was one of those pink lovelies that he often cultivated. As much as the thought of plant manufacture for the express purpose of wearing them disturbed her, she had to admit, it was a sound fashion choice. Au naturel and all that nonsense, sure, but in simpler terms, it just looked nice.

But hair was just hair, what mattered most was what lay underneath, and it mattered much to her indeed.

He didn't look the least bit bothered at least. There was something sad perhaps when that's the first thought in her head, but she was thankful all the same. Unbothered was good under any straits. Hell, if she looked hard enough, she could just about see the trappings of a smile. She smiled too.

Basil's chest rose and fell without so much as a whimper. It was a startling thing, really, he was as silent as a mouse.

His hand still curled in on itself, holding tight on nothing at all. It was nothing short of a miracle that Polly managed to pull his grip open enough for extraction. A few of his fingers twitched every so often, wondering desperately where their quarry went. There was a peacefulness there at least; Basil didn't seem to mind one bit.

That rise and fall again, up and down. Something in her wondered what he dreamed about tonight. From the look of things, it was anything but bad; confused— maybe a little ruffled— but not bad. That was some relief; it was hard to forget what bad looked like.

But today wasn't one of those days she had to remember.

Chapter Text

In the beginning, there was darkness. The world was a formless void. The skies above, and the seas below, a shapeless wasteland. Not a trace of life could be seen, not a trace of thought, of mind, of dreams. Perhaps there was a trace of them once, a long time ago, or so it seemed, so it felt. Basil sure hoped there was.

But darkness was but a phase. White noise abounded, and with it came a sheen of light, a blinding sheen, shining through where shadows and phantoms lurked. The light filled his eyes, and the buzz filled his ear. It wasn't to be a buzz for very long.

“Basil.”

A voice.

“Basil?”

Calling for him.

He turned— or felt himself turn, at least— confused, maybe a little bothered. But he wasn't scared; he was anything but. He knew the voice as much as it knew him.

It was a voice not often heard: fact of the matter was, he heard it more often now than he ever did before. But it didn't warn his heart any less.

“I hope to god this is a good dream, Sunny.” His voice echoed, the ends of it waning into the void. “I never know with you.”

For a dark expanse, it slowly seemed to brim with life. The white noise was almost gone now, and the voice seemed to grow louder and louder. It chuckled at his dry attempt at sarcasm, the way his old friend used to, in the rare moments he ever did. Never a more whimsical tune it was; now it bounced across the shadows like echoes.

It made him chuckle too.

He used to wonder what he’d ever do without his friend. Those thoughts went away whenever he showed up, as they did just then.

They rushed back whenever he left, and Basil knew whenever he was going to. After three years, one often learned to sense the inklings, and listen to them, that gut feeling. The laughter was fading.

Maybe he could lead with a parting word, something nice, something like “Leaving so soon?”. Something humorous, maybe, if he was used to it.

All he could really muster was “Please stay.”

It worked for a moment— it seemed to really slow there for a second, the leaving. But a moment more, and it was gone; he was gone, again.

Not much he could do about that.

But as darkness turned to light, night turned to day. Sleep was no more; the void was no more. As the first streams of dawn penetrated his vision, Basil thought of his old friend, for the start of this new sunny day. He remembered the pale skin, the lanky frame— he remembered the onyx hair most of all, his onyx eyes. He could almost see it now.

He opened his eyes…

and closed then with a start.

Onyx hair, in the corners of his vision. He pulled back the sheets from over him.

Long, onyx hair.

Long?

Onyx?

He searched for a bow, and found it in the form of a new teal headband.

He was moments from pulling himself out of the bed, but he stopped himself short. Maybe it was best to let her sleep.

Poor thing, she found an odd spot to rest her weary head— obliquely against his pillow, while the rest of her sat on the floor on his bedside. He'd change that, if he could.

He laid there another five minutes before a thought crossed him. He tucked his legs in, shimmying ever backwards until his back lay comfortably against the headrest. It was only then he pushed the blanket off himself, and stood up as slow as he could— his bed springs were awfully creaky. It'd be a shame if they went now.

And they didn't, he stepped off and over Aubrey's head with an air of victory. He landed rather hard on his heels, but the full-body jolt hardly rattled his spirit. He took a few achy steps away and examined the situation from a better angle. It wouldn't do for her to lie so obtusely any longer; it seemed there was still work to be done. He'd done it before, surely the process will bid him better results than in times past.

Now, Basil wasn't a strong man— nor did he ever claim to be one— but the job called for strength, any and every bit of that stuff he had. Polly was another option, an option he was loath to employ, but an option nonetheless. Maybe not today, that nurse helped him more times than he could count. Surely he could help himself for a change.

He took a brave step forward, before any other second guessing could take place. He was only wasting time in any case. He always read that heaving and grunting helped with manual labor— they always said something about noise suppression and how it suppressed strength— too bad he couldn't take that lesson to heart then. He'd just make a fool out of himself, and no doubt wake Aubrey up.

It wouldn't be the worst thing. She'd surely get a laugh out of it at least. A consoling thought, but worst case scenarios were never ideal.

But all things considered, she was remarkably light— as far as fifteen year olds went. He had to piggyback Cris once on a Field Day escapade, and then Kel— one of course was notably heavier than the other, but both were heavier still than the girl he carried now, bridal-style over ruffled sheets. He'd dig his heels into the flooring if he could, to find some semblance of balance. Alas, the wood and carpeting held fast, and he had to think fast.

He buckled forward, landing rather harshly on his knees. He groaned, but took quick advantage of the paltry impact softening it provided to set the girl down gently. Aubrey curled up to a more comfortable position as soon as he did, unbothered, like she was never moved in the first place.

He smiled; success. Surely someone out there was proud of the feat. Too bad his greatest hype woman was still asleep.

Maybe Polly'd be proud. No doubt he was a fine chip off her block— he sure didn't remember retiring to his room that evening. He'd have to thank her again soon; she did too much for him, beyond her call of duty, beyond her paycheck to be frank. Caring for one was no walk in the park; putting up with two was something else entirely.

He shook the thought away, the mental image of the good doctor swaying him far more than he expected. He could almost see it rebuking him, like intrusive thoughts were a crime as heinous as cycling indoors. Of all things, he didn't have the slightest clue why that stood as the angel on his shoulder. Preacher and Aubrey had the Good Lord, he had this.

But the man taught him good things, made him remember good things at least, illuminating lost skills like some torch. Appreciation, cherishing: simple, but integral, powerful. He was learning, wasn't that something.

The morning rays streamed inwards, bouncing off the thin slats of his bedroom window and sheening into a soft haze. An interesting sight, the clock read 6:24; he was rather surprised the sun was up at all. Another one of those horrid sleep cycles he supposed, always concluding with some futile wakeful mourn for all the lost hours, less an obligation and more a lifestyle by that point. He blinked through bleary eyes, but the sound of a boiling teapot soon came to the forefront, and sharpened his senses.

Up already, and no doubt cooking a meal for four, if not more. Polly, what would he do without her? He very nearly followed the scent of pancakes without hesitation, but he stopped a moment to look, to ensure himself it was alright to leave— an illogical thought, of course, paranoid even, but he was loath to part so soon, loath to part with her at least.

She slept snugly on his bed, peacefully, quietly. Her teal headband held fast amidst the tousling. It was a good look even in sleep. His face held a wide smile at the sight, and a healthy flush besides. He allowed himself a moment of it before fanning it down with all his might. It was neither the time nor place for it; and he had no place or claim.

He'd best leave the matter alone. Saints preserve he dredge things best left buried. His heart wouldn't handle it.

Strings left untied, ribbons left unbowed; it wasn't a stretch to say he hated them. All that's left are the pieces, and he was no handyman.

But the day brought better and brighter things, he didn't have to worry for very long. And it brought breakfast, as early as it was. Polly wouldn't mind surely. He'd be remiss not to indulge.

He treaded lightly on his heels, taking careful note of where he was sure the flooring creaked and stepping elsewhere. He plead a silent prayer to whatever force inhabited his door— the last thing he needed was the hinges screaming bloody murder. He was almost too happy when he stepped into the hallways without as much as a sound. Polly was almost too happy to see him in turn as he emerged from the back room. She wasn't alone.

“You're up early.”

He groaned, some breakfast this was going to be.

And some sight this was.

“You're one to talk, Kel.”

Chapter Text

April 29th, three years ago, a long time ago now. Aubrey could see it all so clearly: the rain, the calming wind, the puddles that dotted the landscape, scattered most especially over the concrete sidewalks. She skipped over them deftly, body swaying from one side to the other as she hopped. Her umbrella was rather top heavy, and only served to make this effect all the stronger. But anything was better than getting any more wet than she already was. That’s what she thought at least. Kel was one of a different mind, an entirely different mind.

“Hey! Stop that, Kel!”

She dodged out of the way as a splash of ditch water sprayed her way, stopping briefly only at intervals to protest further. The boy was relentless, and jumped with palpable amusement at her annoyance. She even arced her umbrella down to shield herself better from the onslaught. Nevermind a few raindrops on her head, mud on her new raincoat was the bigger war crime.

“C’mon, Aubrey! Scared of a little water?”

She huffed as another wave scattered, hitting against her umbrella with a dull thwap. “You’ll get my raincoat all dirty!”

“It’s a raincoat! Never heard of a ‘dry coat’ before now have ya?” The boy ducked in and out of view, weaving and strafing, eyes scanning for any holes in her defense.

“Oh quit it!” She whirled around just in time to block yet another attack. “Shoo!” With a flourish, she twisted the umbrella, shooting hails of droplets back Kel’s way.

He met the challenge head on, crossing his arms over his face, grinning with relish at the reversal. “All right! That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Good grief.”

Another splash of water. “Take that!”

“Kel!”

“And that!”

She had to admit, it was fun, in some stupid, demented way. Her eyes darted around, and her arms moved in turn, blocking attacks much like a knight would. Some Spaceboy antics if she ever saw one. They had a good few minutes of action, and pulled off a remarkable amount of evasive maneuvers in the confined space of Kel’s front yard, but the rain had other plans. She protected herself against another one of Kel’s attacks, but soon snapped her umbrella upwards. Droplets fell in a heavy barrage— it was one hell of a sudden downpour.

She sighed with some relief as her umbrella held up amidst the deluge. Kel meanwhile seemed content to face the torrent face first, his hoodie mottling darker and darker as the water seeped in.

“What can I say? I like the taste.”

“Of the rainwater?”

“Yup.”

“That’s gross.”

He frowned and stuck his tongue out at her. “Says you.”

“Still gross.”

“It comes from the sky, Aubrey.” He flashed her two thumbs up. “Agua fresca and all that jazz!.”

“Is that a fruit punch or something?”

“Close.” He shrugged.

She smirked in turn; she was mostly confident in the thought that he didn’t know either.

The patter of approaching footsteps was enough to halt their conversation, at least for the time being. Kel turned on a dime, much faster than she did, responding to the newcomers before she could even turn.

“Hey Sunny!” He arced his arms up in a gregarious wave. “Hey Basil! What took you guys so long?!”

The onyx haired boy shrugged silently, his friend flanking him doing all of the talking for him. Basil rubbed his head sheepishly, propping his umbrella up between his arm and torso in the meantime. “Sorry… We got carried away playing this game…”

Pet Rocks, a nice memory.

“Basil, Basil!” She rocked up and down in excitement, or so she remembered. “Take a picture of my new raincoat!”

The boy obliged; he fumbled a moment as he set up the perfect shot. The camera looked too big for his small body then, unwieldy almost. Behind that shy smile was no small speck of frustration at the mechanism. No matter, she could hold a smile up for a long while. Basil’s skills and speed improved with time. A moment longer, and she heard the click of the shutter, nevermind the sheen of the flash.

In retrospect, it was to be one of her favorite photos.

She spun on her heels until her eyes met the quiet boy. “Do you like it, Sunny? It’s my favorite color, pink!” And, for once, she didn’t bother with Kel’s naysaying.

She could’ve sworn she saw a smile on Sunny’s face. The image came and went, and a dull light took its place, bit by bit, until she could see nothing left. The white was blinding.

How do you like the picture, Aubrey?

It rained an awful lot in April.

I love it! It’s so cute!

Basil still had that photo, a few pages into his album.

Heh, thanks. I try my best.

Basil always did put his all in these sorts of things.

Hm? What is it, Sunny?

She could just about remember the interruption; it gnawed into her, settled deep in the back of her head. Sunny came up to them, settling patiently by Basil’s flank. The blonde-haired boy perked his ears up in turn.

She didn’t want to bother them. She left their side and went over to Kel. And that’s where the recollection stopped. Some small part of her wondered what the two best friends spoke of, the busybody in her maybe, but she never looked at them then, or heard anything to speak of. It was a gap in her memory.

It made her all the more curious.

But…

She woke with a start.

There was one thing she knew.

And of all people, Kel was the one to make light of it.

I’m guessing Sunny wanted to give that to you.

Somehow.

It’s yours now, do what you like with it.

She wondered what Sunny would think of the whole thing. She pulled herself up off the bed, looking around with a curious air about her, keenly aware of her position.

“I hope I didn’t cause Basil too much trouble.” she mused, sighing more than once. She ambled onto her feet, a small smile creasing her features.

She wondered what Sunny would think of that. Maybe he wouldn’t mind; maybe it didn’t matter to him.

But if there was anything she knew, one thing did matter.

At least to her.

“Locked doors be damned.” she swore, silently, but loud enough to goad her, to pump her up.

Chapter Text

“You don't sound surprised.”

“I'm not. I know better.”

“You haven't grown tired of me yet I hope?”

Basil chuckled. “I don't I will, Kel.” No doubt he'd considered thinking the whole thing through to completion before.

Leaving explanations to the wind never felt so liberating before.

But it never hurts to ask.

“What brings you here?”

His friend snickered. “Was just about to wonder when you'd ask.”

It took more than that to throw him off. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

He nodded back. “Breakfast.”

“Good breakfast.” He just about noticed the stacked plate Kel had for personal consumption. He could only smile.

“No question about that.” He paused a moment to allow Kel a few bites in between. “Nothing good to eat back home?”

Kel tapped his fork rhythmically on the plate as he spoke, muffled as his voice was with his full mouth. “Leftover curry in the fridge, but that's no way to start the day.”

“You've got an oven.”

A chuckle. “That's an idea. Maybe later, if I want fourths.”

Basil managed an amused scoff. “Fourths.”

“Might as well have seconds and thirds here. I don't wanna leave so soon. Gotta make up for some lost time now, don't we?”

“Maybe, I haven't seen much of you all week.”

“I've been around.”

“Around where I ain't.”

“Slang.” Kel remarked with some mirth.

“Point stands.”

“I'm just busy. House can be a mess sometimes nowadays. All that hustle and bustle, you know what I mean.”

“Cris tells me as much— all that ruckus from next door.”

“Pretty wild for just three people huh.”

“Four if you count the—”

Kel scoffed. “Not like she's screaming from the womb. What, you think my mom's making enough noise for two?”

“Your words, not mine.”

The scoff settled into a groan. “Cute.” but he perked up for the next bit. “But it'll be four soon enough.”

“Is today the big day?”

“Maybe this week? Or the next one, if we're unlucky.”

“Excited much?”

“Just quoting.”

“Always nice to have something new happen.”

“Never gets old.” Kel quipped, scraping foretold second helpings onto his plate. “I bet you know all about that.”

He raised a curious brow. “Me?”

“You.”

“You know who you're talking to right?”

“Everyone gets to have new stuff happen to them,” Kel looked on sympathetically, “even you Basil.”

“So you say.”

He shrugged. “Polly says it too, if you'll believe me.”

“Says what?”

He smirked. “How's Aubrey sleeping?”

“And how do you know that?”

“She snuck a peek ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.”

Polly soon chimed in. “I was mortified to see her like that—”

The tan boy chimed in, voice muffled from all the food in his mouth. “But you didn't move her.”

“Be polite, Kel.”

“Oh, but he's right, Basil.” The nurse hemmed and hawed as she tended to the kitchen cleanup, but she spared energy all the same for the response.

“That may be but, I think that was still a little rude.”

Polly shrugged, eyes grateful, but heart increasingly set on the work that still lay ahead of her, those damned dishes.

Kel swallowed, clearing his throat with an exaggerated harrumph. “Is Aubrey alright?”

“Please don't change the subject, Kel.” Basil rested his palms flat on his hips as he said it. “But yes, she's fine.”

“You didn't just leave her like that either, did you?”

There wasn't much he could do to hide his indignance. “No.”

“Good.”

“It's only right, Kel.”

“Didn't say it wasn't.” The boy spared a moment to drink from a cup. “So, you wanna keep sparring, or do you want to eat?” He chuckled. “You haven't even sat down yet, ya know.”

“Alluring conversations get me all fired up.”

“Lord do I know it.” His friend had no shortage of quips this morning it seemed. “Well… while the food's hot, right?”

“If you don't vacuum it up first.”

“You kidding? You could feed all my relatives with this amount!”

“And you eat enough for half of them.”

“Hey!”

“Don't try to deny it now.” He could just about feel the smirk creasing his features.

“I'll wait for Sally to come along, then we'll talk about confirming that statement.”

“They've settled on a name?”

He scoffed. “About as soon as they found out it was a girl.”

“You think she'll outclass you in the eating department?”

“If she's anything like my tia, sure.”

“Something to look forward to.”

“I guess.” Kel shrugged. “Another thing to add to the pile.”

The tone was rather glum, Basil pulled his lips into a thin line. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It makes me think— and you know how much I don’t like thinking.” They boy managed with some jest.

“That right?”

“That do be right.”

“Honest?”

“Pfft, when am I not?”

“I can name a few instances…”

His friend raised an understandably curious brow. “...but?”

“But I won’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“That right?”

“It do be right.”

Kel huffed a low wheeze. “Stealing jokes isn’t good friend behavior.”

“Cheers you up at least.”

“Cheering up? Me?” He smirked in faux indignance. “I don’t need cheering up. I’ve got all I need in life— family, friends— and hell! I’ve got good food!”

“There’s always something, Kel.”

“No doubt about it.” He hummed. “No need to rain on my parade though. My problems’ll find some way to do that on its own.”

“How grim, and even the good stuff makes you think. ”

“If that's sarcasm, that's not very nice, but,” he sighed ruefully, “that's just how it is. Might as well keep your mind off it.”

“That right?”

“It's not like it'll go away.”

“Not unless we fix it.”

“That's not a sure thing.”

“Doesn't mean we can't try.”

“Hmm.” A low hum. “Optimism.”

“Mythical, unknowable optimism.”

“I'm being serious, Basil.”

“For once.”

“Yeah yeah, for once.”

“You're being honest now, good.”

“Maybe I'll be a lot more honest if you stop sassing me.”

Basil felt a genuine giggle well up from within. “Looking forward to it. You ought to tell me the real reason you got all those weights in your room.”

“They're for fitness.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Jay's been teasing me for years now about my noodle arms.”

“You sure he isn't teasing you for anything else?”

Kel smiled back. “He can't use that for ammo anymore, if I'm right on what you're thinking about.”

“So you admit it then?”

“No comment.”

Basil groaned. “You can't cop out on me like this.”

“Hey, you can lay off my business. You've got your own to worry about.”

“Hmph, not this again.”

“Right.”

“When will you lay off my business?”

“Whenever it suits me.” Kel scratched his head quizzically as he went on. “I mean, what's stopping you.”

“We're not going there, Kel.”

“Hmm, bummer.”

“But…”

“Something up?”

Basil tarried a moment as he pulled his wits together, finally sitting down ok a chair as he did so. “You ever notice anything about Aubrey?”

“Mhm?”

“She seems… different.”

“What makes you say that?” Kel leaned in, face a mix of amusement and intrigue. Basil narrowed his eyes, but said nothing of it.

“Beats me, chalk it up to gut feeling I guess.”

“You sure it's not just you that's looking at things differently?”

“How will I know?” He shook his head dismissively. “But if you think you can segue this into something else—”

“Basil.”

“I don't suppose you had anything to do with it, did you?”

“Not much I could do even if I wanted to.” A plausible explanation. Nothing more than a feint, surely.

“Can't shake that feeling, Kel.”

“I'm not asking you to believe me, but I think I have a point, no?” He smiled amidst the scrutiny. “We can talk about it one of these days, consider it and all that.”

“Do we really need to?”

“Need to? Nah. We don't lose anything talking about it though.”

“Just because we can doesn't mean we should.”

Kel shook his head, brows furrowed with some concern. “Hell's this? A mystery box? This is just talking, you know. It's love, Basil, not some creepy ghost out to haunt you.”

Basil crossed his arms in turn. “You never know.”

“Assuming never goes well.”

“It's not assuming, it's caution.”

“Whatever for?”

Stories of old.

“How much time do you have?”

“We're finally talking then?”

What is it, Sunny?

“If you'll have me.”

Did you want to see the photo?

“You know I always will.”

Do I sense a little… crush?

The thought was cut with an abrupt creak, not anywhere near him, but faintly in the distance, down the hallway. The pad of footsteps caught his ears, and his eyes, leading them slowly to the hall doorway.

“Finally awake?” Kel asked, leaning towards him in sly fashion.

“Maybe,” he whispered back.

A second longer, and the first wisps of a teal headband appeared before them, just moments ahead of their host. Aubrey leaned around the doorway, stopping with a mild start when she spotted them.

“Kel? Why the hell are you up?”

“Look who’s talking.” They boy countered deftly as he sat back, relaxed. “And why are ya targeting me?” He arced his head to one side, where Basil sat.

“Because you don’t live here.”

“And you do?”

She groaned, pouting. “Ugh, whatever. I’m not in the mood.” She puffed her cheeks, looking away with a huff.

“When are you ever in the mood?” Kel shot back, but she didn’t spare any more to sass him back.

Maybe there was space for proper greeting, Basil certainly thought so. “Good morning.” he called out in a meek hush. She waved with a smirk, resting in that look for a moment before looking away. It seemed she was making her way to the door.

“Got some place to be?”

“Nowhere you’d be interested in, Kel.”

The athlete chuckled. “You can’t lead with that and expect me not to prick my ears.”

Even with her back turned to him, Basil could sense the eyeroll. “I doubt it.” Her hand was on the knob by the time he found something to say.

“Won’t you stay for breakfast?”

“Yeah, aren’t you hungry?” Basil rolled his eyes, Kel was on his sixth portion now.

She smiled, but shook her head. “Later.” And she was off.

Basil hummed, maybe she left something at her place.

“You thinking of following her?”

“No.”

“You're not the least bit curious?”

“Kel, no.”

The boy shrugged. “Your funeral.” Basil wondered when he’d lay off.

“You're not helping.”

“You’d be surprised.”

His brows creased up with some surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Kel never did get back to that thought.

Chapter Text

“Right, let's figure this out.”

Frankly, she didn't know why she expected things to be any different from last night.

She jiggled the doorknob a few more times, a little softer each subsequent effort. Hardly anything like the way she manhandled it just the night before. Of course, like in those tired old tabletop RPGs, she'd have to find another way around the locked door.

A spare key was out of the question; the truth of the matter was, they didn't have one. She didn't need to turn over the nonexistent welcome mat to know that for a fact.

Was there a window open? Maybe one that preferably didn't slice her open the minute she crawled through. Broken glass was nothing to scoff at. She tried to brave it once— and the gash she got: she was sure the pharmacist still believed her lie. A playground accident she said then, hell of an accident. She skirted around the perimeter of her house as the memory played out to completion; she rubbed her arm, tingles of the old scratch prickling the skin in waves.

Filthy as it was, there was a window that was sure not to kill her on contact. There was some bad news though. Un-ideally enough, it was the attic window— 10 feet off the ground, the one with the rusted hinges.

“Wonder how I'll reach it.” she mused aloud, placing her hands on her hips in no small display of quiet perturbance.

“You think a ladder will help?”

She flinched, quickly ducking her head away from the new voice. Another moment, and she turned to find Kel staring her in the face.

She had no words. A frown tugged at her lips, and she obliged the feeling.

Kel wasn't the least bit amused, but a small smile did find its way onto his face— a kindly, sympathetic smile. “I'm trying to be helpful.”

The frown hardly dropped. “You followed me to my house.”

“I know where you live, Aubrey. But sure, I did tail ya.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” He stepped off to the side, coming to a stop on her right flank. He looked up at the offending window. “You're locked out, yeah?”

“And what if I am?” For all she knew, he was there long enough to see her struggling against the door. There was little point to lying.

“Like I said, I have a ladder.”

Useful as that might be, her mind went to doubting. She couldn't help but say “What's the catch?”

His response didn't do much to balm her worries.

“That can wait. You want the ladder or not?” He shrugged. “Hell, I won't ask for much of anything.”

“You'll do that for me?

Kel scoffed at the statement. “When've I ever asked anything from you?”

She smirked in turn. “Just means I don't want you to start now.”

“If you really think I will, you don't know me very well.” He motioned for her to follow him as he walked away.” One of these days, you ought to be nicer to me.”

“If you gave me less things to worry about, hell, I'd marry you.”

Kel chuckled. “Well, too bad for you, I'm taken. Besides, that's no way to talk to a friend.”

“Friends don't give each other problems…” She countered.

“They give each other existential crises instead.”

“Lord knows you do.”

“You're not second guessing our friendship now, are you?”

“Only when it suits me.”

“And when's that?”

“When you give me existential crises.”she deadpanned.

“Don't make a mountain out of that molehill now, then you'll start calling a little push physical harassment.”

“Not unless the pusher isn't you.”

“Oh lay off man.” He turned his head away in mock insult. “Just because I gave you that letter doesn't mean I ruined things for you. Is that what this is all about?”

“You don't give a girl something like that and expect things to be all hunky dory.”

“Did you even read the damn thing?”

She frowned, and shook her head. Silence reigned for a few seconds, undercut by the rhythmic back and forth of their footsteps.

“Figures, but…” his pace slowed to a crawl. Aubrey slowed in turn, she peered over in an attempt to read his expression, “why don't you?”

“Well, I…” Aubrey fumbled with her words for a moment, mind dangling on every thread to continue her train of thought. “You know how it is.”

“With the letter?” Kel goaded, with a gentleness she'd never seen before.

She could see it, fully formed there in the back of her head, the letter. Every prominent crease, down to the worn, yellow-tinged patina on its fringes.

She stared at it enough for each element, each feature to burn itself into her brain.

She remembered the heart, that dainty pink thing stuck on the front.

“Maybe I'm just nervous.” she said, finally. Kel turned around, his pace slowing entirely to a stop. She fought the urge to avert her gaze at the newfound attention, sparing effort instead to lock eyes with the boy. Basil always did tell her that sincerity was often found in the eyes. Maybe Kel saw it then in her own steely gaze.

He huffed, shaking his head ever so slightly, mostly to himself she'd wager. “I think we all know what the letter's all about, Aubrey.”

She chuckled mirthlessly in turn. “That's what makes me so nervous.” She motioned ahead, taking the lead on their short journey.

“You don't need to be.” Kel smiled like it was some great reassurance.

“You make it sound so easy.” She quipped; she hadn't much else to say.

“Never said it was.”

Aubrey couldn't help but shrug. She could use that nonchalance— even a small fraction of the stuff. Maybe it'd help with all the madness. But she stuffed the thought away, for some other free moment of retrospection perhaps. They weren't far now from Kel's house; they'd turned onto his street some time ago.

Kel was quick to mollify Hector's excited barks, and tarried a moment to roughhouse with the old dog. He motioned her to the adjacent garage, a quiet Hector in tow, at least for now. The ladder was rather easy to find, its sheer size making that task all the simpler. Kel gingerly set about lifting it at a gentle angle; the imposing lattice set off without as much as a creak. She couldn’t help but quip, her eyes lit up at the sight.

“Wonder where you learned how to do that?”

Kel seemed to take it rather well. He chuckled, a wide smirk creasing the corners of his lips— impressive, given the heavy ladder he was carrying. “Long story.” The strain lay mainly in his voice it seemed; the rest of his body hardly shook. He skirted around her, taking care to avoid Hector too. “It’d be great if you helped me though.”

“You look like you can handle yourself.”

Kel managed a harrumph.

“Let’s be quick then.” she added, like it was any mercy. He nodded.

“I’d hightail it if I could.” A pained lament if she’d ever heard one. They took it one step at a time, quick steps, but steady steps. Hector was sad to see them leave, moreover when Kel motioned him to stay where he was, finding enough leeway with his fingers to ensure the good boy got the message. Aubrey waved him goodbye, at least for now.

The sun peeked over the trees by the time they returned to her house; morning was coming fast. Another hour or two before the school bus came putting around the corner— that was more than enough time. Kel set the ladder down with a careful flourish. “There we go.” He turned around, arcing his arms towards the thing with some ta-da flair.

Aubrey narrowed her eyes with some suspicion. “Is this the part where you give me the catch?”

“I might as well, if you want it so much.” He chuckled with amusement. He started on the ascent, hands now on the first few rungs. “I guess this means I get to be a guest.”

She shook her head, mostly in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” but he was halfway up the ladder now. A few more rungs, and he’d be right by the attic window.

He fiddled about with the window as he spoke. “Do I look not-serious to you?” He poked and prodded, only pausing to note something of dear importance. “Hold the ladder base by the way. I don't feel like dying today.”

She nodded, obliging with swift action. “You sure about that, Kel?”

“With the dying, of course.” The finicking didn't stop one bit. “I’m guessing you mean the other thing?” He paused, groaning. “There's gunk in the hinges. It's not rust. You gotta get this looked at or something—”

“Nevermind the gunk. Are you sure?”

“We've gone this far,” and with one hand gripped on the window for support, Kel turned his head to face her, “we've been friends this long. If you're scared about something, take it from me, don't be.”

“Doesn't make me feel any better.”

Kel turned around quickly, back to his work, but Aubrey could just about see the indignant look on his face. “I'm the one standing ten feet off the ground. Hell, you think this makes me feel good?” The window finally nudged open with a stubborn whine. “I stand by what I said though. And besides…” he clambered in through the narrow gap, poking his head out once he was safely inside. “I'm in now.”

“I don't believe this.” She'd laugh, if she could. After securing the ladder with a huff, she climbed up after him.

The climb was a short one.

Chapter Text

“So, this is your room?”

Aubrey had barely just peeked her head over the windowsill, but even from her limited point of view, she could see Kel walking all around, ducking in and out like a ship over the horizon. A firm tug was all it took for her to lift herself over and through the fairly narrow gap in the now-open window. She stretched her arms ahead, lamenting with an abrupt groan as she used them to cushion her face against the frontal fall required for entry. With a huff, she dusted off her skirt, standing up amidst the ache in her joints.

“This is my house, isn't it?” she managed some dry wit, to Kel's visible amusement. “Yeah this is my room.”

“Not gonna lie, I was expecting it to be all… pink.”

“I don't think Fix-it has enough paint to paint it all pink.”

“So you've thought about it.”

She sighed. “I've thought about a lot of things, Kel.”

“Patchworking I'm guessing.”He looked up with a frown. “Don't think I haven't noticed the hole in the roof.”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe you're not so dense after all.”

“I'm dumb, Aubrey. Dense is a whole ‘nother can of worms.”

“I think you underestimate yourself.”

His eyes lit up. “Is that sincerity I hear?”

“Sorry, won't do it again.”

“No no, go on.” He had one of his old, wide grins on. “I like flattery.”

“Don't test your luck with me. I don't have enough time for that.”

He scoffed. “Rude. But I appreciate it, the compliment I mean. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh that's nothing. Anytime, Kel.” She managed a rueful sigh as she arranged a few wayside items. “Sorry for the mess by the way. Wasn't expecting any ‘guests’.”

“Doesn't bother me at all.”

“That right?”

“Uhuh.”

There was little she could do to hide the strain in her voice. “Good to hear.”

The room echoed with the sound of Kel's footsteps. He took keen pleasure in the exploration. “It's fine, believe me.”

“I pray you don't look downstairs.”

“I'll have to won't I? We have to go to school sometime. Not unless you want to take the ladder down…and leave the house still locked from the inside.”

“Fair point.”

“I have my moments.”

Something about it made her chuckle. She shook her head dismissively at the whole thing. “This wasn't the way I hoped to tell you about the state of my house.”

Kel shrugged, brows raised in silent disbelief. “I have the sneaking feeling that you never thought of telling me, or anyone else about this.” A mirthless smile soon creased his features. “I don't blame you one bit.”

“Sorry for the trouble.”

“Nothing I didn't put me through myself. I invited myself in, in any case.”

“Why'd you have to follow me?”

He threw his hands up in defense. “I was curious.”

“There’s a saying about curiosity, you know.” She placed a stern hand on her hip. “Is my company really any better than Basil's?”

“There's a case for it. But,” he put a thoughtful expression on before answering, “if I'm guessing things right, Basil had better things to do. His grandma woke up; you know how he is with her.”

She answered amidst her souring face. “You don't have to tell me twice.” Basil never had the heart to tell her, but she could tell his grandmother was getting worse. “I hate seeing it.”

“So do I, but not much we can do about it. I hate saying that more than anything.” He groaned ruefully. “Gets me all nostalgic for old times; we didn’t really have to worry about that then, no?”

“Only because we didn’t have that to worry about, but I get that, yeah.” She tarried a moment to shuffle some fresh feed into her pet bunny’s bowl. “We’ve got the memories at least.”

Kel chuckled with an empty huff. “That’s what Basil told me too.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“Oh no, I believe him, and you. But…” he trailed off, eyes set to scanning the room. He held off speaking, eyes now locked on an item of note, “the memories can be… hard.”

There by her bedside, with the damned heart tacked on front. “It gets the best of us.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“Sunny wrote it; isn’t that enough to convince you?”

“Sunny can write whatever he damn pleases, doesn’t mean I have any right to read it.”

A stern look crossed Kel’s face. “He wrote it for you.” To Aubrey, he mouthed with solemn silence. “And, hear me out, for one second.” He thumbed the letter carefully, rotating it every which way as he spoke. “Where I found this… if my reckoning is right— don’t you think these might be his last words to you?” He raised a finger, silencing her inevitable retorts. “Not like he knew he was gonna… go, but you know… last. He wanted to give this to you.”

Aubrey blinked away the haze; she could feel the heaviness in her eyes. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“And will we ever?” came his retort, “We can’t just knock and ask him ourselves.” He looked away, into the middle distance. “And we can’t introspect our way out of this— I do it, and I’m sure you do it too. There’s no way of finding out now.” He sighed.

Aubrey, meanwhile, held her head low. “And that gives us a green flag to just… go ahead with whatever we want?”

Kel had a wry smile on, just enough to counter the grimace that remained. “Fall back on that card all you want, Aubrey, but the question isn’t on if Sunny wanted you to read it, is it?” He stretched his arm, the one with the letter in hand, out to her. “I have a feeling the question’s more about whether you want to read it.”

She turned to glare, and stared hard, her gaze now sharp as steel. But Kel remained unfazed.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. You know I’m right.”

Aubrey shook her head, taking the letter with a small nod soon after. “Your confidence worries me.”

“Your lack of faith worries me.” He countered. “Go on, it won’t bite you.”

“Kel.”

“A letter that doesn’t get read; that’s a sad letter, isn’t it? Like an action figure left in its packaging. What’s the point?”

“It’s to preserve its value.”

He raised a brow. “You’re not planning on selling that in a flea market, are you?”

She stared.

He stared back. “No. The value’s in reading it. It’s not a trophy, Aubrey.”

“Said like your favorite brother?”

“Don’t even start.” A stern look, and she spoke no more.

A deep silence loomed over them. The letter was in her hands now; she handled it like it was made of china. A deep melancholy— it was with this mood that she sat on that ruffled mattress she called her bed. She held the letter up where the light illuminated it best.

“Last words, huh?” Her eyes flitted up from the pink heart to meet Kel’s. He stood idly by, his wayward eyes locked with hers upon the attention.

“It will be, if it reaches you.” said he.

She closed her eyes, brow clenched in a premature wince. She let the sound of snapping adhesive guide her hands; the sticker broke away with surprising neatness. Step 1.

She opened her eyes, a paper slip lay within, white as the day it was slipped into the envelope. Maybe it was with too much care that she tugged on the exposed fold, pulling the rest of the slip up and out of its housing. She unfurled it. Step 2.

And for Step 3, she squinted at all the neat loops. She shifted the letter away, blinking back a few tears. Even that was all too much for her.

Dear Aubrey,

The dreaded words— or, maybe, in some twisted manner, the words she'd been waiting for all this time.

I don’t really know how to start. This is my first time doing something like this, so I’m sorry if it sounds weird.

Something about it brought a chuckle out of her, choked up as it was. She read on.

I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now. It makes me nervous to say, but I think it's important.

How long have we been friends for now? It seems like a lifetime ago now when we first met. I didn't know then that the girl Mari and the others comforted that day would be one of my closest friends.

Aubrey smiled mirthlessly. “You know, sometimes, I think he sold himself short.”

“Sunny?”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely.” For once in a blue moon, these two were in agreement.

We had a lot of good times. I will always cherish those moments. You were always there to make my day so bright and happy. Now, whenever I look at you, I start to feel something. It's strange, but it feels nice.

I know it must be a surprise to read, but I think I like you Aubrey. I think I like like you.

Like like, “Remember when we used to talk like that?”

“We were all twelve once.”

“Twelve.” Aubrey swore under her breath. Twelve was no age to die.

I like everything about you. You're just so kind, and amazing. I don't think I'll ever have the courage to say it to you face to face, but I think you're the prettiest girl I know. I always have butterflies in my stomach whenever I look at you.

A violent heat seemed to take hold of her cheeks— to say nothing of the scarlet brilliance of the visible flush that spread all across her face. Kel couldn't help but laugh, to her great consternation.

“Oh, laugh all you want…” she trailed off, silence overtaking her once more. Hell, she could almost hear the amused chuckle emanating from the letter. Maybe Sunny knew very well what he was doing from the start.

Sometimes, I think you're so amazing, that I can't even compare. I'm quiet, plain. I don't know why you're so good to me. I'm worried I won't be good enough for you. You deserve so much more.

She blinked as the tears returned. “Don't ever say that.”she whispered, pleaded even. “Don't say that about yourself. That's not true.”

But, this feeling has grown too strong for me to ignore. I thought it would be good to let you know. Being around you makes me happy, and I hope I can make you happy too.

I guess what I'm saying is, I cherish all my friends, but I will cherish you the most. I like you, Aubrey. I hope you will accept my feelings.

“With love,” her voice faltered, “your forever friend, Sunny.”

Chapter Text

Faraway Park was a pool of darkness. It was the dead of night. The bustle of nature aside, there was hardly a sound around, nothing more than a peep. Too bad for Kel— no white noise today. Nothing to distract him from his purpose, his reason for being there.

His eyes scanned ahead; from his vantage point atop the monkey bars, there was much to see, or could be seen. The fact mattered very little; there wasn't much there he cared to see at least. But still he sat, and watched. A single, lone street lamp illuminated the area, right by the entrance.

His eyes lit up at the faintest inklings of blue hair came to view.

“I'm glad you came.” He said, rather prematurely on balance, but he was hard pressed to be mistaken now.

Cris, there she was— hair tied back, a thick, oversized sweater adoring her slim figure. She approached, hands clasped tight behind her back. She looked curious more than anything.

“I'm sorry to call you on such short notice.” He rubbed the back of his head rather apologetically.

The girl managed a light giggle at the apologetic look on his face. “Don't worry, I've been inconvenienced worse than this.” she said in turn, rather flatly in contrast.

Kel hopped down from his high ground, his landing kicking up loose playground sand with a sharp crunch. He paced over to her, meeting her right where sand made way to the wide expanse of grass beyond.

“You wanted to talk, yeah?” Cris added between the bouts of silence. She crossed her arms. “Some spot you picked.”

“Anything wrong with it?”

“Kinda feels like a shady deal you have to admit.”

“I'm not a shady kind of guy.” He said rather matter-of-factly.

“That remains to be seen, but…” she pressed a thoughtful finger against her cheek, “that stuff aside, I'll shimmy a guess. Is this about Basil?”

“Close, Aubrey.”

“Go together like fish and the sea, they do. You can't really say I'm wrong.”

“I said close didn't I?” In a moment of absent mind, Kel found himself thrusting his hands into nonexistent pockets. “But I get you.”

Cris set her hands on her hips with exaggerated flair, “What about Aubrey then?” acting not unlike the girl in question. Kel smirked at the similarities.

“She got a letter.”

“From Basil?”

“No.”

“Dear God, ” she quipped with dry wit, “someone else?”

“Of course.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

A sensible barrage of questions, it brought a small smile to Kel's face. “Maybe if you'll let me explain, you won't need to ask so many questions.”

Cris turned her nose up in faux contempt. “Kel, it's not like you to shut down a good time.”

He chuckled. “Good time or not, I think this is important.”

“Lay it on me then.”

“Sunny wrote the letter.”

She snapped to rapt attention. “Who in the what now?”

“I did say important.”

“Bullshit, Kel. Bombshell much?”

He narrowed his eyes for the briefest of moments. “He didn't write it now, if that's what you're so worked up about. Hell, it'd be great if he rose from the dead to pull that stunt off.” He rubbed his nose with a thoughtful air about him. “He wrote it years ago. I just found it some weeks back.”

“I'd skip the dense question but, love letter?”

“Love letter.”

“Shit.” She cleared her throat with a grunt, in some overt attempt to undercut the swear she blurted out mere moments before. “Any idea when he wrote it?”

“Hell if I know. There was a date inscribed, but I don't think it'll help us.”

“Why not?”

“It was in darker ink than the rest of the letter.” He huffed with some amusement. “Aubrey noticed that little tidbit.”

“Written after the fact then?”

“Seems like it.”

“And the date was?”

“October 26, '96. About three years ago now. Aubrey darn near broke down when she read that.” He paused for effect. “The 26th was the day of the recital.”

Cris grimaced. “The day he died.” It was less a question, more a statement in need of confirmation. Kel nodded rather quickly to tick that box.

“I hate hearing it as much as you do.”

“I can't imagine how Aubrey feels.”

“I think we know plenty well. Honestly, I'm sure we both get the gist, as much as we say we don't.”

“Sure.” She remarked flatly. “And where do you think that leaves her?”

“Between a rock and a hard place.”

She smiled, the briefest hints of concern gracing her features. “Question is, what's that rock? And what's that hard place?”

“I couldn't help but watch, you know, Aubrey's face as she read the letter.”

“As you do.” Cris mumbled dryly.

“I'm not saying it for the heck of it.” he trailed off, another set of chuckles bewitching him for just a moment. “You know, you'd think you'd be wistful when you read something like… that.”

“And she wasn't?”

“I've seen wistfulness, longing before. Hell, I know longing.” He shook his head. “That wasn't longing. It was more like… conflict?” He knew that too.

“Conflict.” Cris seemed to mull the word over, the expanse of her mind swimming clearly between the sparkling sheen of her emerald-green eyes. Kel lingered a moment in witness to that ephemeral beauty. For a moment, there wasn't a thought in his mind. “People always use that word to blow things outta proportion sometimes, no?” she said, popping the bubble and breaking that moment.

Kel was one to agree with that statement, but, “Not this time,” said he. For once, the word seemed just about right to describe what he saw.

Cris pulled her lips into a thin line. “Rock and a hard place.” That phrase— chains of thought now linked and latched in her mind, visibly, from the look she gave him.

“Rock and a hard place.”

“Begs the question,” she looked at him, something about it made him shrink away, just a smidge inwards, “what’s she mulling over? I’m sure you can answer that much.”

“What would Sunny think?”

Kel sighed. “I think that’s easy enough. She wants to feel happy about Sunny liking her…”

I want to help Basil as much as I can, she said once.

“You abandoned Basil, Kel.” came another recollection, stinging and sore as it was to his psyche.

“...but she likes Basil too much for the feeling to sit right with her.” Kel found a sad smile rearing up his cheeks; those weren’t his words. Seems Cris knew the rub. The sad smile soon turned to a wry grin.

“I had a feeling your girl-senses triggered a long time back on this one.”

“Girl senses? The hell kinda superhero you think I am? You overestimate me,” she rolled her eyes in the meantime, “but I’ve always had an inkling.”

“Oh yeah?”

She chuckled with a mock scoff. “The only ones who don’t get an inkling are those two from each other.”

Kel nodded; the movement was all he needed to soundboard his agreement.

“You ever let her in on that little theory of yours?”

“God no! That’d just make things harder, no? They way they are, that won’t work.”

“Too stubborn?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Too loyal more like. They both think they’re doing Sunny a favor, doing right by him, or something.” He threw both hands up in sheer bafflement, a resting amused smile settling on his face. “I like the sentiment but, I don’t think the dead care.” Watching them squirm around each other— Kel was horrified to say the least. “They act like he’s still around to care.”

“Playing by 1996 rules I guess.” Cris mumbled off-handedly. Kel found some wisdom in it.

“Problem is, 1996 was a long time ago.” He paced around the monkey bars, weaving around the standing metal posts every so often. But wherever he went, Cris’ eyes seemed to follow, like a hawk on distant prey. “They have to move on.”

“Like you’ve moved on.”

Kel frowned, that wasn’t a question.

“You know what I mean, Cris.”

“I know.” She looked at him, warmly, her soft gaze melting the steel in his displeasure. “But, you’re just as stubborn as they are.”

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t now, would I?”

The girl shrugged. “It’s part of them as much as it’s part of you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t."

“What's your game plan then?” she asked.

Kel almost grimaced at the inevitability. “That's where you come in.” Grand as his words were, he didn’t have much in terms of a plan.

“I'm touched.” she deadpanned, a small, growing smirk undercutting the irksome feeling. “Is this your idea of girl power?”

“It takes one to know one. And besides, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

It seemed only right. It takes a friend to save a friend.

“It won’t be easy. But we have time,”

You excited for the recital, Sunny?

“...don’t we?”

Kel sighed. “Maybe?”

Time, so much time.

They had time once.

So Sunny though once, he was sure.

Things had to be different this time.

Far different.

Chapter Text

Mari remembered the first time she stepped into this campus— three, four years past now, when all she worried about was the field trip bus running late. It was little more than a blip in her memory, and she hadn’t perhaps the clearest image after all this time, but familiar buildings helped set the stage.

She stepped out, pacing the school's expansive courtyard. It stretched into the far reaches, decorated to the high heavens. Center fountains stood in intervals, with clean benches lining their perimeters. The polished stone pathways were worn, but grand all the same. The whole thing was dressed to the nines, odd as it was to say about an inanimate venue.

Behind her lay the lecture hall, crowded and communal. There was only ever one hall, at least for her department, the one she toured in time past, and the one she waded out of only minutes prior. Crowded was sadly an understatement, 500 seats could fill remarkably quickly; and the less said about the heat the better, it was unbearable.

Paint peeled off the aging walls in thin strips, the floors creaked with every footstep— she wondered where all the tuition money went. Maybe if she paid her fair share, there’d at least be a water fountain, but that was wishful thinking at best. The allure of a scholarship was too high in any case, and those fountains outside didn’t pay for themselves.

Flanking the courtyard on either side was yet another set of stately buildings. Whatever discomforts lay inside, the exterior made up for in style, maybe to match the courtyard, or maybe still to compensate. Her department was the grandest of the set, for better or worse.

It must’ve been a minute of walking before she took her eyes off the grandeur. She’d seen it all before, but she was never loath to see them again. Another minute, and she finally hit the end of the road— at least, when it stopped catering to foot traffic. From here, steps led down to a loading bay. Sidings, bus stops, the works. And from there, a long avenue to the outside world— the freeways and the bustle of city proper. Wistful as her gaze was, she wouldn’t be seeing the end of that road for another while, not until the winter at least. She hooked right, entering a paltry sideroad instead.

Tarmac quickly made way to cobbled stone; the rough transition was immediate. It was one of those off-limit detours, at least on paper, where tourists and starry-eyed college hopefuls never thought to look. It was almost too perfect for her. She made the stride on her bad knee, stepping squarely on the oblique side of a pebble; it wasn’t the best idea, she soon learned. Only reflexes saved her face from a bad scrape, but she groaned at the inevitable dull ache that followed. Anything for a shortcut, she supposed. She hobbled on, with some extra care this time.

Mishap aside, the route saved her many minutes of extra walking. In a campus as large as this one, every mile shaved was a mile in her backburner, best saved for some other strenuous day. The long, winding road cut through where straight asphalt built around. It was no wonder students her age opted for cars. She was no custodian— and Lord knows she wasn’t planning on it— but the privileges of one wasn't always a bad thing. At least she could see the end of the path, and with it her destination, just within her sight.

In the distance, past all the trees that now stood on either side, lay the Med Quarter, or so they all liked to call it. The pervasive stench of cadavers made for tough neighbors— or, in their case, no neighbors at all. Though the buildings still shined with that Ivy prestige all campuses strove for, the trees were there for a reason.

She skipped over rocks and fallen twigs— not pleasantly, she might say— a mix of flowers and formaldehyde invading her senses. It wouldn't be long now before she reached the other end. Laboratories met her as she emerged, feet hitting pavement one more. The windows were wide open; she could tell they were venting something. She couldn’t see a trace of that something, but the acrid tickle in her nose was indication enough. She gave them as wide a berth as she could; her destination lay just past them.

She was in the outskirts, or, as much of the outskirts as she could be. Past the arboretums and mock pharmacies lay the final row of buildings, no more than five stories tall. They made up for their height in width; they were a complex all on their own. The parking lines felt odd amidst all the greenery; the bike racks seemed nothing more than tacky lawn decor, but they were filled all the same.

The Med Quarter dormitories, or, as she knew them, Hero's dorm. Scattered fluorescents cut through the narrow slats they called windows; one of them was his, lit too from the look of things.

For all the cars and bikes, the halls were remarkably empty. It took a moment of ginger snooping before she knew that for sure, but one could never be too careful. College or not, a girl sneaking in the dead of night was never a good look. Down the carpeted floors and to the left, she had the right number, surely. He gave her a key; the lock clicked with crisp action. Good.

The first thing she noticed was the relative darkness of the room, save for a soft glow that bounced from one side of the room, source just out of sight. No roommates, no bustle, she had a curious feeling she knew what lay on the obscured end. She shut the door as silently as she opened it, holding up one hand to feel across the wall on her right; the last thing she needed was a bad fall.

Her fingers slipped over where the wall met the corner, and she gripped the other end as she slowly peeked left. Just as she thought, the hazy flicker of a desk lamp met her squarely on the other side. Lord knows how long it stayed on. It shone like some spotlight; most of its harsh rays casted down on a familiar silhouette.

“Working too hard again?” Mounds of textbooks all around; some open, some closed. Sheets upon sheets of notes were stacked on one side, mercifully uncrumpled by the heaping presence of their hapless creator. It was a wonder he managed to find any spare real estate to rest his head at all.

But there was room for a second guess— on closer inspection, one notebook emerged as a casualty. He was blessedly out of his teenage acne phase, else he‘d strike oil on the waxy pages. The letters were etched out in clean loops— the letters she could see at least. She could almost hear the scritch-scritch of his pen as he wrote it all down, working, toiling. Too bad for one little detail: one rough streak, the mark of slipping unconsciousness; he must’ve been writing till it took hold.

Advanced study, from the look of things. Those book topics had no place in the first semester, much less the first month of the course, and yet here he was, pouring through them in the first week. It's what made him so brilliant, but…

“This is no way to live.” She sighed quietly to herself, running a hand over his ruffled hair. First aid and temporary subsistence was more an EMT's job than a doctor's, but there were more books on those than any other. “Sweet Lord.” There was hardly enough space for all of it.

Are you sure?

She could still remember asking him that very question. Summer of '98, preceding the choice of a lifetime, a choice that ultimately begged for some more questions.

She never got around to them; she wasn't starting now.

I think it's the right thing to do, Mari.

Was it up to anyone to say what was right? It was one hell of an emphatic line; Hero never did emphatic lines.

She wondered whatever the hell he meant.

But he slept soundly, if not a little heavily, in both the literal and figurative sense— nothing bothering him tonight, for once. Exhaustion was a mean beast, but to sleep from it was like the sleep of the dead, the sleep of dreams.

She wondered what he dreamed about tonight.

There was no way she was lifting him up. He had to stay right where he nodded off, for better or worse. He looked tranquil, if that'd make her feel any better. Her eyes turned to the room once more. A perfectly clean bed lay by the windowside, just next to them.

“Couldn’t even get to it.” Poor guy. And as usual, there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. Somehow, he managed to make dorm pillows puff like their five-star counterparts. If she didn’t know any better— this not being her own bed notwithstanding— she’d be happy to flop onto it. On days like these, anyone could use a nice bed. She settled for pacing instead.

The moon was beautiful this time of night, shining like some distant star on occasion. It did its best to illuminate the room. She was sad to say it failed terribly, but whatever light did shine in rested on a humble table, right by the bed’s top corner, eye-catching to say the least. A few knick-knacks aside, one thing did make her smile.

Summer days, the starts of it at least, caught in a single moment. It must’ve been right around June… ‘96? They had a full frame camera on-hand for once— her father’s if she could remember that much. The image held up nicely. It had all of them.

All six of them.

They were all smiling.

Hero and herself, Kel, Aubrey and Basil, all in a mass of colorful shirts. But somehow, it was a black shirt that made her smile the most.

The wearer, he was smiling too.

It was the day before they all went to the beach, a wild day of planning and excitement. She remembered how much Hero worried about their supplies, and their route, like he was their designated driver. Aubrey and Basil packed silently; Kel, not so much. All she had to worry about was her side of the preparations.

And somewhere, amidst all the hustle, they managed one, peaceful snapshot.

She missed those days.

“Why can’t we go back?” She gripped the frame tighter as she said it.

“I wish we could.”

A soft stir, with the gentle rustle of paper underhand. His voice was hoarse, but no less kind as before.

“But we can’t, Mari.”

Chapter Text

Mari wasn't always one for late night escapades— cramming and exhaustion often got in the way of that— and the hustle of the day was more than enough for her most times, but when she was for a nice escapade, there was always one thing she found herself doing. She’d stare up at the sky, and just gaze at all the stars above. A habit from walking down Faraway streets, she did much the same here. Away from all the crowded highways and all; there was little light pollution to get in the way of the sky, and all its majesty— yet another blessing afforded to her from this outskirt university. The moon was beautiful this time of night, and she discovered stars she’d never seen before.

It helped, in its own little way— awfully good at distracting the mind in any case. It helped her; maybe it’ll help him too.

They walked the dim streets, the two of them. By some miracle, she coaxed him outside. It was almost a ritual these days. Late afternoon, evening, after all the lectures and assignments— right about then, over this past week or so. Ritual or not, it had to count for something. It got Hero out of his cramped dorm more often than his own will often did. There was no shame in saying the practice chalked more up to her insistence more than anything. Hero never seemed to mind, though he didn’t seem to mind much of anything these days.

There wasn’t another soul in sight, and hardly a sound, besides their own. Pattering footsteps and soft dialogue was the sort of thing that oft got hidden under the daytime bustle. There wasn’t much of that now, no white noise to drown it out. Still, it was a wonder how much louder things could be in the dead of night. Even the sound of her breathing was enough to unnerve. It felt illegal almost, like it disturbed people’s evenings. Maybe it disturbed no one but her, but she’d never know that for certain.

Two pairs of footsteps, but only one voice echoed amidst the stillness— if only Mari could say it was uncommon. Quiet nights used to call for pleasant conversations. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, friend to friend— conversations she cherished.

“Rough week?” Her voice seemed to go on and on; she shrank in when the volume seemed too loud.

And even then, she spoke to the wind more than she did to her own boyfriend; that's how it ended up at least. Even the howl of the breeze was better than stark nonresponse.

A shrug, she was no stranger to them. She grimaced for a number of reasons, none of them good. For a moment there, her knee stiffened up. She slowed half a step behind Hero.

“Work got to you I guess?” She went on, stepping ahead in time with her query.

Mari managed a surprised hum when Hero slowed his pace to accommodate. He even managed a weak smile. She caught the warmth of it. She turned to him with one of her own.

“You shouldn't overwork yourself.” Her pace slowed a moment, just enough for him to catch up. “You have a nice smile, you know? It'd be a waste to lose it.”

Ask and you shall receive, or so the saying went. A sheepish smile— or close enough to one. He delivered. It salved a few stiff nerves in her neck.

She took his hands and squeezed. “That's the spirit.” It was in a rather reassuring tone, directed more to herself than anyone else. “We’re only a week in. We can’t die now.”

He shook his head. “Can't stop now.”

Mari hummed, he always was a persistent one. “Stop what, Hero?”

An odd sound emerged from his lips, lasting no longer than a second. He paused a second longer before speaking once more. “Learning, I guess.”

His eyes looked elsewhere, and her eyes followed, but there was nothing more than trees and dense brush, nothing else of importance at least. She shrugged, maybe he was just spacing out.

“That's what all of this is for, you know, college.” She spun on her heels, walking backwards to face him. Surely she could pull that feat off for more than a few seconds, she could feel the burn on her knees in any case.

He sighed. “It's slow going.”

An odd statement. Inklings of a chuckle escaped her lips, her mind far too slow to stop it. “You can’t mean that.” she managed before settling herself back into timid silence.

Hero's brow creased, but only for a moment. “You know what I mean.”

“They're only getting started, Hero,” she huffed, “believe me, there's no rush.”

“Never hurts to get ahead.”

“Yes, but-”

“I just want to perfect it, Mari.”

She merely frowned; she knew the feeling. Hero carried on.

“I want to help save people.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Not for another few years.”

“Few.” He almost spat as he said it, like it was some venom. He looked around apologetically, like he was repentant for his supposed blasphemy. It was hard to suppress a sorrowful grimace at the display.

“It hurts to see you like this, you know.”

“So you’ve said.” He traded the frown for some attempt at his old, charming smile. “And I always tell you not to worry.” It was a bit of a failure.

“It never makes me worry any less.”

She could almost see him deflate. His face fell. “Any way I could actually make you worry less?” His pleading eyes only stayed with her for a moment, before breaking off again to some unseen landscape.

“Slow down, Hero.”

“Oh, I-” He slowed his pace to an unbearable crawl. She overtook him rather quickly.

It was her turn to slow down, right down to his pace. They walked in sync for a moment, step by step. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” asked Hero.

She stopped, “Slow down, put the books down, sleep at a reasonable time for once,” Her lips pressed down into a thin line, but her eyes settled softly. “You haven’t done that in a very long time.”

Hero shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“What’s stopping you?”

He looked off again, and broke eye contact. “I-” he trailed off.

“Your mother?”

He raised an eyebrow in offense. “No?”

“It’s not the prestige, is it?”

“You know me better than that.”

She paused, digging her heels into the ground. He stopped abruptly in turn. “Then what is it?”

“Saving people— helping people, Mari.”

“It’s a good thing, Hero, but you can’t kill yourself over it.”

“I can’t stand seeing people suffer.”

An acrid tickle rode up her nose once more, but they were nowhere near the laboratories.

Hero wrung his hands ruefully. “I don’t like seeing them die.”

“No one does.”

“Me especially.” he remarked in turn. “That’s no excuse.” It was only then he resumed his pace. Another five steps, and Mari followed suit. “You understand me, yeah?”

She nodded, not before clasping her hand together behind her back. “It’s another ten years before you swear that oath, but—”

“But?”

“I completely understand.”

For a moment there, Mari thought she saw relief flash through his eyes. It seemed to ripple from top to bottom. It was almost relaxing, if not for that clinical stench still ravaging her senses.

“It’s… daunting.” said he.

“Hence the training.”

“Doesn’t scare me any less.” The corners of his mouth creased as he frowned. “I don’t like repeats.”

Her ears perked up at the word. She arced her gaze to face him. “Deja vu?”

Hero huffed. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“There was nothing we could do…” she trailed off, “nothing you could...”

“There’s always something, Mari.”

After a lengthy pause, she could only shrug, near-uncomfortable at Hero’s lingering gaze. He looked so expectant, so curious, with a real zest for answers. She didn’t have much of that. So, still she walked, still she wavered in silence, and still she grimaced; the smell was overpowering her now. Chemicals that burned up, she could just about recognize it. What seemed like formaldehyde mere moments ago— a strong alcoholic sting took its place, ethyl, the stuff all hospital staff seemed to bathe in.

“They did all they could, you know?”

Hero chuckled, mirthless as it was. “I wasn’t talking about them now, was I?”

“We’re steamrolled as is.” She slipped her hands deep into warm pockets. “Don’t add gasoline to that fire.”

Hero seemed to think long and hard. “Gasoline’s not the least of it.” he said.

Words for the ages, Mari didn’t quite know what to think about that. All she could do was walk.

Chapter Text

Mari had a keen ear on the rhythmic thumping of her footsteps. On the walk back, it was all that filled her senses, all that rattled in her ears. They walked in sync, the two of them, so much so that there seemed to only be one audible patter of footsteps.

One, two, three. One, two, three. Over and over. Hero kept in time with her awkward limp. He paid no mind to it, mind clearly elsewhere.

One, two, three. One, two, three. But she could hear something else, hiding amidst all that. It was almost natural her mind would turn to it, she could admit that much.

The further they walked, the further she seemed to slip.

Deeper and deeper.

“And…”

The flourish of a left hand.

Was there a musical style more sublime than the simple waltz?

Intricacy in 3/4 time, somehow, from all that simplicity.

A simple backbone,

…for the right hand to come in.

It was grand, divine even.

Something to pour all your wits into, and all your focus.

Then came the accompaniment.

A great string section; sweet, dulcet tones.

The left hand kept time, as it always did.

And the right hand followed in turn, joining in the syncopation.

It was an interesting tune, striking in its features.

Something quite other from the waltzes heard in galas of old.

The piano, that stayed much the same.

But the strings, they were of just a single instrument.

No other of its kind to play with it.

No other to sing along.

Nothing but the piano.

Still in its one-two-three, one-two-three.

Lone.

Outside.

Pitiful.

Wretched.

“Wrong!”

A flurry of notes, discordant. A mighty jolt. The violin screeched in turn.

“That’s the wrong note, Sunny!” Mari gripped the edge of her seat as she peered over her shoulder where Sunny stood. He looked much like a deer in headlights, eyes agape for the briefest of moments as they caught her gaze. “We have to get this right by now. The recital's only a few weeks away.”

The boy ran his fingers across the length of his violin, rubbing them ruefully. Mari meanwhile ran hers across the length of her thighs, smoothing out the creases in her skirt, till the hemlines were as straight as arrows.

She poised herself before the keys and played a few preparatory notes. “Come on now. Let's do it one more time.” Practice makes perfect, after all. “From the top.”

Sunny stared a moment, before blinking once and nodding. He held the bow aloft, and looked back at her, for her cue.

“You better do it right this time.” She hummed under her breath, flexing the ends of her fingers as her left hand began once more.

Just a few more rounds, she thought. She'd sacrificed much to get to this point, but the sweat of all those months would soon bear fruit. Her command of the keys was nothing short of perfect. Yes, perfect.

Timing, impeccable; her fingers moved almost on their own.

She was never one for boasting, but this, she can forgive herself for.

Less pride, more confidence, she thought. Things were going well.

It was all going right.

So far…

… so good.

It was that familiar feeling, when everything just works out.

It was just so damned perfect.

They were doing so well.

She never heard it then.

She couldn’t.

The little whimpers…

…warbling the strings oh so softly.

That silent boy, her dear baby brother.

Maybe he was a little too silent.

Too forgiving.

Too blasé.

Too…

Maybe not.

The boy trained his eyes on the floor. The bow, once held high, fell to his side.

“Why did you stop, Sunny? We’re not done yet.”

He turned his face away.

“Hey c’mon.”

His foot shifted one way.

“We gotta get this done.”

Mari could see the whites of his knuckles, the way they turned white, at least.

She shifted in her seat. “From the top, yeah?”

Sunny raised his head a moment. It jerked one way, as if to gesture, before abruptly stopping mid-arc. His eyes trained down just as quickly.

“Hey!” Mari rose quickly at the sight, wobbling somewhat on her bad leg as she started.

But she was too late. The padded carpet masked his hurried footfalls out of the room.

“Sunny, come back!”

She remembered running, pushing back her piano stool with an abrupt creak.

She remembered stumbling, foot caught on one of the wooden legs.

Hell, she stumbled now.

Reverie gone, she reached out, grabbing Hero’s shoulder for support.

“Easy now,” he said with some surprise. “Don’t forget about your knee.”

She hobbled a moment before regaining function of both her legs, without as much as a response.

Hero pointed off to the distance, down the road to that familiar building up ahead, familiar to the two of them at least. “We’re almost back.”

She hummed softly to herself, “Hmm, so it seems.” but not without a sigh.

There was still so much to remember.

Chapter Text

The first rays of dawn. Soon everything would be aglow with light, shining through the little gaps in the trees, enough light to finally light the way. It was an important thing, no doubt, to know the way, to have any idea of all what lies ahead.

A comfort, one of many.

Insect buzzing and birdsong—the air was alive with the sound of nature's sweet music. It filled the ears with merciful white noise.

It kept the mind busy, and the thoughts at bay.

A hand, to hold, and squeeze. A sympathetic hand. It squeezed back.

“Something on your mind, Hero?”

“Nothing.” Hero replied.

Mari's hand squeezed once more on his. “There's always something on your mind.”

There was the smallest semblance of a smile on his face. “And on yours.” A wry smile was a smile like any other.

“Not much we can do about that.”

He shrugged. “Looks that way.”

“Oh?” She turned with interest. “But?”

Hero let the moment breathe, walking slowly amidst the sharp crunch of leaves underfoot, where pavement met the cobbled path that led up towards his dorm room.

“I have my hopes.” he replied, entering the space and bounding up the steps, Mari in tow. She didn’t lay her eyes off him for even a second. Her voice bounced all around the narrow hallway they emerged into.

“Good hopes?” The question almost made him chuckle. Hopes could only ever be good, couldn't they?

“Good hopes.” he said matter-of-factly, with some finality, and that low tone that came with all forms of appeasement. He was good at it once, but not now it seemed. He looked back to narrowed eyes, creased with some mixture of emotion. The displeasure, he saw first. That came with the territory. He saw that from a mile away, as much as he was loath to say it.

Now the worry, that was something else entirely. He hoped he didn’t have to see that, but he did. He didn’t like that one bit. Not one for any outward signs of unease, he was content with keeping his mouth shut, pressing his lips down till they made a thin line.

“Take care of yourself, Hero.” Mari ultimately managed to say in hushed tones, spelling out rather clearly all the things her eyes first alluded to.

The lock on his door clicked open, and he pushed into the room. “I’ll be fine,” he nodded cooly and turned back, adding, “and that’s my line.” He made a binding promise to her father after all. “Stay safe now.”

“You know me,” Mari seemed almost incredulous at the thought, “I’ll survive.” She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, waving through the gap in the door as he finally set out shutting it, with a small smile on her face even, to reassure no doubt.

“I hope so.” Hero muttered under his breath. Smile or not, the worry wasn't likely to leave his mind.

Would she be alright, he wondered; he had to make sure of it, but that was easier said than done. He could save that for some other day perhaps; there were other matters to attend to.

He walked over to his humble desk, still cluttered from the mess of the previous night: books, worksheets, and the like. Hell, there was a conspicuous gap amidst all the chaos, molded around his then-prostrate figure, sleeping as he was then. He hummed disapprovingly at the new creases and folds that that brought about, and he set a gentle hand to smoothing as many of them as possible. There were still a few in that pile he wanted to dive back into, as much as Mari would object to it. In a field as robust as medicine, it didn’t kill to be thorough.

Hero shivered for a moment, the sensation pricking him from the core-out. The autumn weather finally got to him perhaps, someway, somehow, in the comforts of his room, lit underhead by a hazy fluorescent desk lamp.

”Thorough?”

A phantom of his psyche, Hero paid no mind to it, looked away almost. There were other things to set the mind to surely, distractions. He found one in arranging all the books by subject, then by color, and then, by difficulty. Stacking and restacking them in various ways, along with their corresponding notes and worksheets. Biology was over Botany, which was under Zoology, which found itself neatly over English, which thankfully outranked French by a large margin.

Up and down they went, up and down.

Up and down.

There was a startling silence that bore down on him, and on his work, silence that revealed the timid buzz of the bulb that illuminated overhead, emphasizing the little flickers, the little hums. His eyes wearied under them for far too long— at least the sun was coming up. The blinds did much to hide that though; he rubbed the space between his eyes as he set his sights on them.

“Here comes the sun…” he hummed to himself. He pulled the blinds open, and there it was, that constant yellow ball just peeking up from the distant horizon. It half-blinded him truthfully, but that was hardly enough to dull the genuine relief at seeing all that light. It bathed the room in a warm, orange glow. Only a few, deep shadows remained, where the rays couldn't quite reach. It stuck out in the oddest places.

All the beds were empty, it was the first thing all that light seemed to show him, his own bed, naturally, as well as the others. His roommates were gone all evening, clubbing, drinking and the like. That's all he gathered in the few weeks he'd known them, all the connection he had with these people, but it mattered little, it bothered him little. He kept to his own, his bed was all he cared about, and his possessions, but not much else.

And of his possessions...

A glint just off his cone of vision caught his attention, sheening off the worn frame of a photo. Of his possessions, he cared about this most of all. It wasn't very long ago that Mari stared down the familiar image cast to print; he found himself staring too.

Funnily enough, he could never quite recall who took the photo. It certainly wasn't Basil, who took a comfortable spot in the photo near the center, nor was it anyone else in the group, else they wouldn't have been complete. In the end, perhaps the specifics mattered little too. What mattered was that they were all together, complete.

”Complete…”

“Complete.” Picking up the photo with one hand, he brought it up to the light. “And that's that.”

“Where'd all that go?”

Hero hummed quietly to himself, that was no doubt a question that lingered on many minds, and certainly not just his.

“Why did it have to be so?”

Hero shivered; the hairs on his neck stood stiffly on their heads, prickling his skin with goosebumps. Just the dimmest flash of heat glowed within him, though it extinguished itself with little fanfare. He hung his head, rubbing the space between his eyes once more with his free hand.

“Don't make me remember.” He managed in a breathy hush.

”Forget?” The phantom erupted in guttural laughter. ”You haven't even started on forgetting.”

“Then why?” Hero looked up with renewed fire. “Why are you here? What's the point of all this?”

Another burst of laughter, more chilling than the last. The shadows seemed even darker than they were before. ”To keep you aware of one thing, of course.”

“And that is?”

Hero could feel eyes on him. He shifted disconcertingly at the ever encroaching darkness.

”I think you know it already.”

His hand gripped tighter on the picture frame, the wood audibly creaking under the pressure. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling once, very slowly.

”It's your fault, Henry Rodriguez.”

Hero conjured sights of neutral, white noise, in some anxious effort to ease himself. The effort was in vain.

”It will always be your fault.”

His palm cried out against the ever stronger squeeze.

”You know what you did.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

Something seemed to give way, Hero flinched as he felt a shooting pain spread across his right hand. His head went light for just a moment at the sight of the red, the blood. Flecks of it dripped where splinters stuck into his palm like needles, where it dyed the wood a terrible new color.

Hero just hated the sight of it; he had half a mind to rake the debris out by force, but the optics, as well as the foresight of much pain, stayed his hand— the other hand at least. And so he gritted through the discomfort, through the little bits of pain.

It was all he could do.

Chapter Text

“You ever wonder about the future?” It seemed an interesting way to start up some conversation.

“Why do you ask?” Hero seemed receptive enough.

“Cuz I’ve been thinking about it.” Mari arced her head back and forth, facing the boy on one side, then away on the other.

His eyes followed her on each cycle. “And?”

“Dunno.” she swallowed to soothe her parched throat, taking the moment to press her lips together thoughtfully. “I’m always just thinking.”

“Is there something in the future that's catching your eye?”

“You know what they say about the future, with all the little things that can change, the possibilities.”

“College and the like, yeah?”

She nodded, and watched as an exaggerated world-weary stare formed on Hero's face.

“Those extra classes are doing a number huh?” He squeezed her hand in the meantime, firm and gentle in equal measure. “Like those cram schools they have back in the Old Country.”

“Pfft,” Mari brought a hand over her mouth to muffle the involuntary snorts of laughter, “you say it like some jaded immigrant.”

“Runs in the blood.”

She raised an indignant brow. “Yeah? And I'm the Empress of Japan.”

Hero had one of those charming smiles on. “You may very well be.”

“You charmer you, I'm the one with the lines here.” But the snark did little to stop the faint flush on her cheeks.

“You give what you take. It's the nice, Christian thing to do.”

“You can get all the maxims you want from the pastor.” She mumbled off-handedly.

“It's a Hero original, if you'll believe it.”

“I'll believe it. You haven't lied to me yet.”

His eyes visibly raised. “I'm sure I've told a few white lies. You don't count white lies? It's in the name, you know.”

“It means more to me that you're honest about the white lies.”

“Good absolves bad?”

“If not good, what else?”

“Hmm, Philosophy.” Hero remarked in a low whistle.

“Philosophy.”

“It'd be better if there wasn't bad to begin with.” He reasoned, always one to slide in interesting thought to a discussion. It made her smile with amusement.

“In a perfect world, sure. Nothing is perfect.”

Mari heard a funny noise and turned to the source, it seemed Hero was quick to stifle a surprised chuckle. “It's interesting that you say that.” he managed after a moment of rest.

She'd be lying is she said she was pleased. “And why's that?”

“All that work you do with Sunny, you know. ‘Nothing is perfect.’ huh?”

“We'll be performing in front of a couple dozen people, it better be close to perfect.”

Hero chuckled. “You're not worried about the recital, are you?”

“It's a big day.” She said with a shrug.

“Bad case of the nerves then?”

“Well, ahh, I wouldn't say nerves…” Nerves implied insecurity, that certainly wasn't the case.

“You two are doing just fine.”

She eyed him with a tentative frown. “Fine won't cut it on the concert hall.”

Hero had one of those charming smiles on. “I trust my hearing.”

She managed a scoff in the meantime. “I can't say I trust mine.”

“Well let me do the trusting.” he replied in quick fashion. “Leave the playing and performing to yourself and Sunny.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not.” Mari turned with some surprise. “But easy or not, I think that's the right course of action.”

“You think about that often?”

Hero shook his head with a chuckle. “Not really.” She liked it when he smiled like that, mouth agape, pearly whites sheening off the distant sun.

She replied with a smile of her own. “You had me fooled.”

“There’s no fooling you, Mari.”

“You’ll be surprised.” she remarked tacitly.

He shrugged, palms up and head cocked to one side. “There’s always a surprise.”

“Life’s better with them.” Mari obliged the statement with a thought of her own.

Hero put on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe.” he said, the air dimming around him.

Maybe. The ensuing silence gnawed at her sides.

“Not being pessimistic now, are you?” She could say just about anything to break the cold quiet.

“Who knows.” Hero broke a reassuring smile, though his eyes narrowed, the corners creasing. Perhaps he wasn't sure himself. Something about it stood out; it stood out to her at least, for a very long time, longer than she thought.

Much longer, it seemed.

Mari squinted, vision fuzzy and stretched, though it cleared little by little with every blink. She hardly gave her eyes the chance to fully recover before sitting up, the color blobs that remained out of focus would go away in time, or so she thought. It mattered little in the moment, for a quick, cursory look around the room, detail wasn't of the essence.

Somehow, her gut feeling was proven correct, that being the total abandonment of the room, at least until free period, whatever time that was for her roommates. For the moment, that mattered even less. She had the room all to herself; her department had the rare honor of having a free day scheduled.

She sighed in spite of herself. She didn’t feel so free, though she stuffed that thought to the backburners of her mind. There were better uses of her time.

Springing quickly to her feet, she strode the short distance from her bed to the adjacent kitchen, if she could call it that. A sink and a microwave, two overhead cupboards, and a few drawers in complementary counters— and not to mention state of the art technology, a minifridge. They were rolling in the pinnacle of cooking necessaries it seemed, tragically underused. Besides the microwave, the counters held little more than drying bowls and plates, as well as a small stack of letters that came in the mail that week.

She gave the fridge a quick tug in the meantime, milk and cereal was a welcome staple to ease her panging stomach. Even in a foreign space like this, breakfast traditions held an odd sort of sway. Like she often would at home, she picked at lone Fruity Pebbles with the convex end of her spoon, mind a blank void, at least for the moment. There was peace in the mundane. Peace was nice; she enjoyed some of it while scanning the cereal box’s nutrition table for the umpteenth time. In time, she pulled her attention away long enough to finish her meal.

She made simple work of the dishes, taking care to rinse them thoroughly. Hands all nice and dry once all was said and done, she turned her attention to the letter stack. It was taller than it was the previous morning, and oh-so tempting to reduce. She leafed through a few of them on a cover by cover basis, most especially the few envelopes of private correspondence that didn’t concern her. Of the ones she did open— club flyers, department notices, notes of schedule alteration, and the like— there was one that stood out. There was nothing quite like having your name in pretty script to draw the eye after all.

“Oh! Aubrey!” Mari thumbed the envelope in some effort to unstick the adhesive. “She wrote!” There was no mistaking the handwriting— distinct, loopy, cursive. The date crawled on the top edge read the previous week, the usual evidence of inefficient postage. Somewhat quietly to herself, she yearned for the instant correspondence afforded by telephone or cell, but the quaint novelty of letters did their charms on her. She read on.

Hey, Mari! This is Aubrey writing! I hope you won't get upset with me for writing so informally, but I really wanted to write to you. You can tell me off later.

Mari chuckled at the amateurish sketch Aubrey drew at the end of the sentence, the poor girl all prostrate with exaggerated flair.

But anyway, how's college going? It's not too hard I hope. Basil keeps telling me horror stories about them from the books he's been reading, but books are just books, so I hope you'll write back and tell me all about it!

Things are going great back home! I've been hanging out at Kel's place a lot more these past few weeks because of all the fuss about the new baby. It's a girl! They named her Sally! Kel sent Hero a photo of her I hear, so I'm sure he's seen it in the mail by now. You have to see it, she's so cute!

Mari hummed approvingly, yet another endeavor to check into on this free day.

I have to tell you though, I didn't know Kel was good with kids, relatively speaking. Call it brotherly instincts or something, but Sally always seems to drift off to sleep whenever he's holding her (Yeah! He's been holding her safely! Crazy, I know!) I guess I never knew how small a newborn could be.

They were small alright. Somewhere in the depths of her memory, Mari could still remember how tiny Sunny was, even to the hands of a four year old. The vivid recollection was mostly gone, but a vague sensation remained. It was a sobering thought.

It's funny you know, a lot has happened since the two of you rode off to college. I couldn't help but feel you were missing out on some of the goings on around here, so I hope this catches you up a little. Lord knows there isn't much happening to me. Kinda boring actually.

Another small doodle, this time of a deflated face, expression blank.

I can't wait for you to come back in December. Letters are great, but talking is a whole lot better.

-Aubrey

PS!
Folks are setting up a funfair on the other end of town! I'll get Basil to take lots of photos to show you! Hope I don't overstuff your mailbox.

Alright bye!

It was a wonder that a postscript existed at all, the sequential decreasing letter size with every line said much to that end. Mari folded the letter back into its envelope with a smile. Aubrey, may that girl never change; her cheerfulness could light up a dim room.

She could certainly use some of it.

Sha sat back on her seat, nudging it back as she pushed her legs underneath the table and felt the pull on her calves. She held this position for a minute or so while she slowly watched the sun rise higher and higher from the little box view the window afforded her.

She sighed, much of the day still lay ahead. There was still so much left to do.

Chapter Text

“Ahh! Shit.”

Hero fought the reactive urge to clench his fist, reining in the little spasms and ticks that came with slow, enduring pain. From his own count, somewhere between eight to ten shards of wood cut into his palm, all fairly small all things considered, but the damage was dole en masse, and so was the sting. Half the wounds drew blood, dripping down from vibrant dots that pooled where wood met skin. Those picture frames and their wood, it was a wonder none of the glass did the same, mercifully, perhaps. He was terribly sorry for it, as mad as he was for the injury. The past always found a way to hurt him, always bothering him, always making him remember.

He sighed, not that he ever forgot.

His hand shook and twitched, back and forth with the cycling sting. The adrenaline hardly numbed the sensation, but it emboldened him instead to try to remedy the issue, like some twisted Dutch Courage. With his free hand, he rummaged the depths of his bedside table, pulling the drawer out and digging in. A lab kit he bought had some tweezers, often used for delicate tasks. Surely it'd feel right at home with an operation like this.

“Ow!” That was one, the first; that one always hurt the most. The blood dripped a little free-er than it did previously, dispersing slowly as it mixed with the sweat that beaded out. The mixture ran in streams down to the center of his palm. If he had a hand to spare, he'd be quick with tissues or cotton, or whatever else was in sight to blot the blood.

In an odd way, it reminded him of years passed. He was no stranger to bumps and scratches, on himself, and on others, his younger friends most especially. They had the rowdy disposition he lacked, and the increased penchant for injury. Scraped elbows and skinned knees, or the somewhat more terrible gashes across their forearms when they'd fall down mid-sprint. Kel was his first patient, his first practice; Basil and Aubrey were frequent seconds. But, despite his infrequence getting into such mishaps, Hero remembered the days he'd tend to Sunny.

“Tch!” The second stung much the same. The shard exited without much fanfare, save for a muffled groan. Sunny emoted much the same, one of the few occasions he did so. Pain so often did override the reservations of mind. That made every little grimace stick out, coming from someone who had little more than a stone look on his face most days. Once, one hot summer day, Sunny had the misfortune of skidding his knee on the rough tarmac just outside the park. Save for nosebleeds, that was the most blood he’d seen up to then, for just about most who witnessed the display. It was the first time he saw Sunny cry.

Sometimes, he hoped it’d be the last time.

He remembered running back to his house, pulling out his trusty first aid kit from a tidy corner in his room. He bounded back with equal speed. The box unlatched with a crisp snap; it was a sound he could replay endlessly in his mind. Gauze and some antiseptic, doled from a travel-sized vial. It was the first time he heard Sunny hiss too, as he blotted the wound with Betadine. The dull orange stain that spread all around was disconcerting, even to those in the know of how antiseptics worked. It didn’t look at all natural on human skin. The way it mixed with the vibrant red of the direct wound hardly inspired confidence.

He still had that kit with him, stocked and restocked with new items over the years since that day. Different brands, packagings, vials, but they functioned much the same way. He didn’t have the luxury of two hands to work his first aid sorcery, but one hand had to suffice. He grimaced and hissed just the same.

“Fuck.” The expletive exited in a quiet hush, habit brought on from observant, devout parents. This shard pulled skin as it came out, the same way it did when hair was pulled on. This one bled more than the others; he promptly dropped the tweezer in his off-hand and rummaged for cotton balls. The lights dabs on the opened wound mercifully stung less. He was glad no one was there to witness this process, save for him naturally. Something about the presence of others paralyzed him some; it seemed like unnecessary pressure, their eyes beading down on whatever task was set to him, or he set to himself. Mari’d be worried, at least in this case. She was worried before, older sister tendencies and whatnot, even to him.

He remembered her getting to Sunny before he did. She’d injured her leg by then, but she outran him somehow, paces ahead of him by some grace of God, ahead enough to assure him and comfort him, maybe even steel the boy’s nerve for the remedy. She held Sunny's hand from the moment the cotton swabbed his wound, patting it gently as gauze was rolled over his knee. She took him up in her arms, piggyback with his arms flung over her shoulders. Sunny was still crying by then, but Mari didn’t mind. Hero could tell by the sanguine look about her that she was set on soothing the boy’s woes as they walked homebound.

She was a good sister… she’d still be. It was all his fault, really.

He pulled the rest of the shards soon, in quick succession, with little fanfare. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could clear his head. Maybe some breakfast, easy start to the day supposedly, had this mishap not occurred; maybe some exercise or a bath, whatever else there was that could be done. This whole thing’s got him acting unwise— it’d be more unwise still to carry on this task longer than necessary.

So you say… With the new voice in earshot, Hero sighed. And here he was hoping for a peaceful morning. The pause was unbearable, like it sucked the light out of the world, and its sounds besides. Here you are though, drawing it out ad nauseam. Surely you can admit to that, amid the many else left unsaid.

“So it seems.” Hero had little else to say. He busied himself with mending and patching the little bits of red that remained.

SO IT IS, the voice snarled, and with it came the cold. The sun shone bright in his face, and it was cold.

“So YOU say.” The loud creaks of dispensing tape punctuated his words, as well as the ticks where tape met skin. He grumbled with the weary mumblings of a madman. “I’m not scared of you. You’re not real.”

And yet here I am. Hero flinched as the voice cackled; each guffaw sent ripples through him. Disperse me then, you stalwart paladin of little faith. The shadows in his room seemed to bubble right at the corners of his vision, teeming with… something.

Something? He never did see anything, save for the inching darkness. Natural phenomenon, he always said. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, taking respite in a deep breath. He opened them to little change.

Such power you possess, it mocked, calm down, Hero, you’re looking a little pale there.

Hero shut his eyes once more. “I’d calm down if you left me alone.”

Tch, the usual condescending tisk-tisk, you’re alone already.

He braced himself for the verbal tirade, but there wasn’t any. He was surprised more than anything. That phantom, it had more to say than he was ever comfortable hearing, but now, nothing. The silence remained, that unnatural absence of noise, even white noise was preferable. But there was nothing, nothing for him at least. Even sound itself seemed to leave him alone, again, naturally.

Maybe some semblance of the phantom’s words did come to pass, or will. A matter or when and where perhaps, maybe, maybe not. No one knew for sure, and for all he knew personally, the world would all come to an end, come crashing down all around him. But that mattered little.

It seemed not much mattered to him these days.

Chapter Text

Dear Aubrey,

I was glad to receive your letter today, late as it might’ve been. There’s been some horrible postage backup I suppose, you mailed a week or so back from the date. I hope you don’t get upset with me either. But in all seriousness, don’t sweat it Aub. I couldn’t get mad at you for anything.

I’ve been doing well at college so far. I’ve got a few tests under my belt now, midterms you know. They’re tiring, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s not too different from high school, just a different schedule, and a heavier workload. It’s nothing you can’t handle either, I know you’re worried and all. It’ll be okay, believe me, and it won’t be for another few years on your end.

It’s good hearing that you’re all getting along back home. Music to my ears really, I couldn’t hope for more. We’ve been through a lot together, we can get through a lot more that way, if you don’t mind me getting sentimental for a second there. I’ve known you a long time now, and you’re one of the brightest people I know. I love the way you’re sharing it with the others, keep it up! You better not be feuding with Kel again when I come back in a few months’ time though, or you might actually get some tongue-wagging your way from me. He may get under your skin, and that’s a given, but take the high road, it’ll give you less grief.

Keep yourself safe now while I’m gone. Faraway might look all peaceful, but you and Kel always seem to find yourselves in the middle of some trouble. Think of Basil! Poor thing, keep him close. And stay together, the three of you, I can’t wait to see you all again in the winter.

Your doting older sister,
Mari

P.S.
And send Mrs. Rodriguez my regards too! That was great news you sent me! I’m missing out on too much!

“Hmm, I’ve never seen you mail a letter off-campus before.”

Mari snubbed the statement with a blank look as she handed her letter over. The post office clerk was always a chatty one, disposition borne from a deathly lack of continuous work. She seemed to sit idly by for most of her employment hours, the serious postage and mailing machinations occurring in the rooms behind her through a few closed doors. That said, the clerk spun on her wheeled office chair, pushing away from her desk, depositing the letter somewhere just off Mari’s vision.

The girl didn’t seem to mind her silence at all, continuing after a beat. “Well, students don’t mail all that often now that I think about it. It’s all staff, and that old dean they’ve got in Education. The rest of ‘em complain, you know?” She carried on without a care, chuckling to herself as she pushed her way back to her desk. “Like hello? E-mails exist!” she exclaimed with a droll, nasal twang.

Mari grinned sheepishly in spite of herself; she’d never seen anyone quite so air-headed. She tried in vain to hide the expression on her face. The clerk didn’t seem to mind, and even joined in with a giggle of her own.

“I know, right? Crazy!” She arranged a few loose documents on the desk as she spoke. “People can get really stuck in the past, don’tcha think?”

“We can.” came the bemused response, Mari could give her that much.

“Old fashioned squares, all of them!” The clerk huffed, cheeks puffed out like an upset cat. “Can’t get their heads out of the 1800s. Don’t they know it’s 1999?!”

‘99… time certainly flies, Mari could still remember the latter bits of the decade prior; it was almost striking to think she’d spent more time in this decade now.

“Hell!” The clerk was finished in the slightest. “New year’s up in what? Two months??” She was certainly passionate.

Maybe a bit too passionate.

“New era.” Mari said simply.

“New Millenium, you mean. Can’t wait for it!” Something seemed to sparkle in the girl’s eyes, almost like fireworks. Fitting. “It’ll prove those naysayers wrong!”

“Naysayers?”

“Doomsday mongers,” the clerk waved her hand with palpable contempt, like the idea itself was made being in front of her, “I don’t listen to their nonsense. Technical mumbo-jumbo.”

“It’s the in thing to do, I guess.”

“The in isn’t always good.” Mari didn’t quite expect the tisk-tisk. “You gotta pick and choose your nonsense, ya know?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Alright now, take care.” The clerk made another, albeit much friendlier, handwave. “Come back anytime for a chat!”

Somehow, Mari didn’t think she’d do that anytime soon, but she bid her much the same, and left.

It was hard to shake the restlessness, the little twitch deep inside that kept inaction and relaxation a deeply uncomfortable gamble, the twitch that goaded her to walk the unknown, aimlessly as it was more commonly referred to. Something about the little burn pulling at the back of her calves helped scratch that itch, and quelled that twitch.

1999… it’s been a long time now. She was far removed from the stark freedom of her childhood, not so much in a time sense, but she felt the barriers all the same. She was eighteen now, no longer some child to be taken care of. Adult was once a foreign word, one used for people much different than she was; in many ways, that foreign concept had come to pass on her. She didn’t feel all that similar to what she once was.

The wind was kind to her today; the lullaby of the leaves soothed her to a faux-fugue state, uncaring of direction or distance, so long as there was path to traverse along the vast landscape of the campus grounds. But still, her mind worked, soothed as it was. It worked.

1999… not long from now, a new year would come, another year to her list, another drag.

How long was she to be in this campus? Another eight weeks till the next lengthy break, another three years and a half till her undergraduate degree. So much time, almost too much time, time that flew by almost too quickly.

1999… Aubrey was fifteen now. Basil was, and Kel too. If they were, Sunny’d be too, if he were around to see it, the age she was when he passed. She was always older than him, but now, the gap would grow ever wider. That didn’t sit right, not at all.

She wrung her hands; autumn winds balmed them. Despite that, they were frigid to the touch, no matter how much she rubbed them against each other. She walked on in spite of it, there was little she could really do about it.

1999… three years now. Some days, it all still feels like a bad nightmare, her worst nightmare. It was no dream. No dream. She could only wish it was a dream.

The chill spread, from her hand and along her arms, and from there to the core, and she shivered.

1999… it couldn’t have been that long, had it? But three years… that was almost too much, and it was.

Even her legs felt the chill; they radiated down like icicles in her veins. It was almost hard to walk.

1999… it would be 2000 very soon.

A missed beat in her step, breaking the constant pace she’d kept up to that point.

1999… it all went by so fast.

One jolt hit her right in the knee, the bad one. She winced as she struggled to find her balance.

1999… no.

It was only a matter of time, she tripped forward, arms already splayed out to ease her fall.

Sunny, why couldn’t he be here?

She couldn’t help but gasp as her palms to the brunt of the blow, then her arms in some dark one-two motion.

It was all so unfair.

She rolled to one side to spread the weight out, knocking the wind out of her as she ended up on her back a scraped mess.

It was all her fault.

She felt the pain first, then the slow, steady flow of blood. She could almost smell the iron in the air. She gasped few breaths of air as she regained her bearings, trying to take control of her ringing head, and the unbearable chill on her veins.

“Are you alright?” she could just about hear that, and see where the source was as a shadow was soon cast over her. An outstretched hand, which she gratefully took. “Do you want me to call anyone?”

She smiled at the good samaritan before shaking her head. “I… just need to see someone.”

Maybe Hero could help her make sense of all this.

Chapter Text

A cold, empty feeling: Hero didn’t know how to describe it. He felt as if he was floating through air, like the world itself was spinning around him. Where was he? And why was it so dark? The space beyond his physical figure was almost pitch black, though in some odd twist of the natural laws, his body was lit from all directions, so much so that there was hardly a shadow on his person.

He tried screaming; not a sound escaped his lips, nor could he hear the echoes it should’ve made around the space of his head. It was the feeling of near total deafness, near, but not total. Hero didn’t have much here, just himself, his mind perhaps, his body, and his voice, though only through his thoughts. Many of the same questions surfaced again and again. Where was he? And why was it so dark? It was so dark, almost painfully dark, but not for long.

A space seemed to open, not bigger than a few feet around in radius, a circle of… something, anything, something he could finally see. Actual ground where his feet seemed to naturally draw like a duck to water; where else was its home but the ground, he supposed. Somehow, it was almost too natural, too smooth, almost robotic; the irony wasn’t lost on Hero. His arms moved too, his head, his torso, everything, not that he ever fought against the movement. There was something soothing almost, about just moving, without so much as a thought.

It was then the space just beyond him began to shift, background elements to some twisted creation. Familiar trees, familiar fences, even the ground he found himself on; he could swear he knew every crack and crevice of it. And then, red, a lot of red, more than he’d ever seen before. What was this? Hero felt the slow, creeping flow of blood on his fingers, running from the tips down to the base of his knuckles. A large red splotch made manifest right where his hands seemed to be.

Then the splotch seemed to grow, spread. Its color slowly shifted as it did, from the vibrant scarlet, to a starkly contrasting dull peach. The splotch was now a bump, the simple stain now something quite other. The bump seemed to grow on two fronts, each forking in different directions; another moment longer, and it was just about recognizable as a knee, growing more to legs, then a lower half, to something now resembling a human, and not just any human.

Once more it seems he was transported back to years passed, when he tended to Sunny’s wound, back when he felt unabashedly useful, when everything was still alright.

He remembered comforting the younger boy with a few confident words, at least in the way he said it. It propped up the real work that the boy’s sister was doing to that end, played easy second fiddle to it. There was no beating Mari’s sway on him, no beating the way her voice seemed to weave around the wall of discomfort and pain that seemed to block Hero’s own words of platitude, no beating the way it seemed to worm right into Sunny’s heart, striking deep like a marksman’s arrow. He was never envious of it, far from it. He was glad there was someone that could always reach the boy when all seemed dire, someone to ease him. But despite this, he was sad to say there was no easing the boy’s quick, rapid movements away from the cotton fluff he held on one hand, saturated with dark colored antiseptic, away from the sharp sting it brought. Every so often, the pain would strike a nerve, and Sunny would kick with a reflexive jerk.

“Just a little more, Sunny.” Hero remembered pleading as he dodged the involuntary onslaught. Sunny didn’t seem to listen, preoccupied as he was. He felt rather sorry for the boy. Frankly, he was more sorry than he let on. “I know this hurts,” he swabbed the wound once more, “but trust me, it’ll all be over soon.”

Sunny mumbled to himself, it was the most Hero ever got from him, understandably so, given how bad the wound was, how much skin was torn off, and how much that most certainly hurt. It was almost a blessing Sunny’s knee bore the brunt of the fall, and not his head. Otherwise, they were in for something else entirely.

Hero couldn’t help but sigh, he knew better than to say that. He should’ve known better. He didn’t know any better that day, that night.

“There there, little brother.” Mari brought a hand up to dry any stray tears falling down Sunny’s cheeks. “There there.” There was always something about the way she spoke that entranced all who listened, him included, Sunny as well; he looked up just as quickly as he did. “Just follow the sound of my voice.” She pulled back, splaying her fingers flat, as if there was some invisible table just under her diaphragm. “Breathe in…” She raised them up, till they lay level to her collarbone. Hero could feel himself breathing much the same; he noticed Sunny did too. Mari’s fingers trembled a moment as she glanced down at the sickly color on Sunny’s knee— blood and Betadine; horrible combination. “... breathe out.” she managed, pushing her hands down back to where they started. This cycle seemed to go on forever; it didn’t seem to matter where in the tending process he was. Even when the gauze was finally in place, Mari carried on.

“Breathe in…”

Hero another steady breath in, for the umpteenth time. His vision was beginning to fail him. Despite the breath, his head was hazing over, in some asphyxiated blur, like he was drowning. Black spots danced all around as Sunny collapsed once more from human to torso, to knee, to splotch.

“Hold…”

Hold? Hero almost balked at the new instruction, though it audibly remained uttered in Mari’s distinct sanguine drawl. He hadn’t much of a choice; that natural force he once praised now suffocated him in compliance to the directive. He couldn’t do so much as exhale, or draw in any more precious ounces of air. In the blur, he could feel his legs sinking into the ground; he could feel himself sinking deeper into a heavy kneel. He held that too, that position, until his ankles sprained and shot signals back to his brain.

“... and…”

Hero couldn’t take much more, he needed to move, he needed to run, hell, he needed air most of all. Black spots became bands, that showered across the landscape like static, arcing back and forth like a television dialed between channels.

Why was it so cold? And why was it so dark? His vision finally swan and spun, like terrible vertigo. He was sinking, deeper and deeper. Into coldness, into darkness. The relative safety of something bubbled just off the distance, like light at the end of a distant tunnel, or the surface of a bottomless lake. Hero had to fight, focus, move.

“Breathe out!” It was godsend, some color returned in a flash, and along it, strength. Hero staggered up, throwing his body forward like an oversized plushie, dull and unmoving as it was. One foot in front of the other, it wasn’t running at all; it was slow and ambling, but it felt like the fastest he’d moved in a lifetime. Speed lines seemed to fly by, something just kept getting bigger, closer. He was finally on the cusp of it; it was within reach.

He dove forward, legs stumbling from the exertion, landing squarely on his arms, then his chest. His vision blurred once more as he gasped, breathless, into the light.

Into the red.

Did he strike his head? He brought a frantic hand up to confirm. His head was damp, but with sweat, not with blood. Why was there so much red? Hero hadn’t the clear vision to investigate. He could only fear the worst.

What didn’t help was the rest of his senses, or rather, what they sensed. Hero’s nose burned with vigor at the acrid stench brewing in the space around him; it reminded him of freshly milled metalwork, sharp and not at all fresh in the common sense. His hands meanwhile, they felt oddly warm, suspiciously warm. For a liquid, it had an odd texture, like it was the slightest bit thicker in consistency than water. He had little doubt in his mind that this was blood, newly shed.

His tongue could feel the stark dryness of his mouth, like it often was when the life drained out of him, physically or mentally. He hadn’t quite felt like this in a while. Half effects were common enough, but he could swear on his life he only felt this way just once.

And his ears… well, they heard nothing.

Perhaps Hero thought he was back to tending Sunny’s wound again, the cycle repeating much the same as Mari’s latter instructions. He didn’t think that soon enough; his vision was clearing.

Hero opened his mouth to scream, but not a sound emerged, like it did before. He had seen enough. He thought he’d scrubbed that from his mind and cast it to the depths, it seems not. But here it was, again.

And again.

Hero could feel his throat tighten with every flash, every glance.

And again.

Countless bruises, peppering fair skin with terrible shades of black and blue.

And again.

A deep, bubbling red, lurking and matting underneath jet black hair.

And again.

Limbs, bent beyond comprehension, protruding bumps where bumps shouldn’t be.

And again.

A shard of wood, lodged deep into a socket where an eye once sat. It stained a terrible black.

And again.

And the other eye, vacant, hazy, but somehow staring.

And again.

Right at him.

And again.

And again.

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And again.

And again!

“Hero!”

He bolted upright, staring wildly at the source of that demonic screech. With hardly a moment to gain his bearings, he pulled his arms in, like some shield.

“Hero!”

He mumbled quietly to himself, maybe if he disappeared, the noise would go away. He squeezed his eyes shut, uncomfortably so.

“Hero?”

The voice was familiar, but he wasn’t going to be fooled again. He settled into a gentle sway, stimming the nerves that brewed underneath his skin.

“Hey…” Hero shuddered as he felt a touch on his shoulder. It was cold for the briefest of moments, like solid ice, but it slowly warmed. He liked the warm.

“Please listen to me.” The touch seemed to balm him all over. “Just… follow the sound of my voice.” Hero braced himself, eased himself.

“Breathe in…” and he did.

“Breathe out…” and that was that.

“Breathe in…” once more.

“Breathe out…” and finally, done.

Hero looked up, past the shield of his arms, and found a weak smile creasing his face. “Mari.”

She didn’t quite look so happy; she looked down, her face an incomprehensible mess. “I’m… so sorry.” She slinked back, gritting as silent tears flowed.

“Don’t be,” he pleaded, that eternal plea, “please, don’t be.”

It always hurt to see her cry.

Chapter Text

“You know, I should be the one comforting you, right?”

“Oh, nonsense! Help comes to those who need it.”

“My thoughts exactly; I want to help you too.”

A chuckle. “You already do that, more than I can ever pay back.”

“So you say.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Just hard to believe.”

“Not so much I hope, you’ve been with me all my life.” A pause. “And in the three years that mattered.”

“...”

“Exactly three years now, that’s hard to believe.”

“Almost. Almost three years. It’s the 23rd, Mari.”

Unbearable silence, prolonged, restless, then a bemused laugh; bemused, but mirthless.

“I had a feeling you had the precise date in your head.”

“Day of the recital, that’s what it was supposed to be.”

“What a mess I’ve made of things.”

“You?” The pause seemed to last longer than it really did. “No.”

“You don’t seriously still believe that, do you?”

“...”

“Hero?”

Two rapt knocks on Kel's door, Aubrey waited patiently on the other end. She never quite imagined she would ever get to see a baby so close up. It'd been some time since she'd last seen the little thing, back in that quaint old maternity ward; school days kept her away another week or so. By some stroke of luck, she managed a clear schedule, at least for the weekend, giving her some leeway to pay a visit to the Rodriguez house, and a chance to watch and marvel the little bundle of life Mrs. Rodriguez held in her arms. The door opened, and Aubrey found them just ahead, lounging casually on the center couch. The baby was wrapped under a thin blanket, though her arms peeked out and over the fabric.

“Is she asleep?” Aubrey asked, peering over at them from the porch.

Kel was none too pleased about being snubbed, seeing as he'd been the one to open the door, Aubrey could tell as much. “Oh noooo,” he drawled flatly, “she's been waiting for you all week.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Kel.” she quipped back, smirking somewhat at the perturbed look on his face.

“Be nice, mijo.” Mrs. Rodriguez rocked the baby as she said so. She turned her attention to the girl. “She's nice and awake, Aubrey. Come in and take a peek.” She nodded at Kel, and he pulled the door further open, but not without a faux formal bow. Aubrey paid this no mind and strode in. She skirted around the side of the couch to where Mrs. Rodriguez sat. The baby was awake alright, though her little eyes were hardly open, and more concerned with the cloth mitts she wore on her hands than the newcomer's presence before her.

“Try not to startle her,” the older woman warned kindly, “she’s still getting used to lights and noises.”

“Kel ought to desensitize her quickly enough.” Aubrey suppressed a grin as she said so; Kel merely frowned indignantly. She looked back at the baby. “Sally, right?” Mrs. Rodriguez nodded. “Woah…”

Aubrey was always in the firm belief that although bunnies were the cutest thing this world had to offer— at least, in her own humble view of the world— only babies came close. There was something eternally endearing about their fat, stubby limbs, and how they didn’t quite have command of its functions; or their little wide-eyed stares, unabashed innocence sparkling within. Most of all, she was endeared to how tiny they were, tinier than she'd ever come to expect. That was more due to their age, she supposed; little Sally was hardly a few weeks out of the womb.

“Little bigger than the last time I saw her.” Aubrey remarked, if that was any indication of how small Sally was at birth.

“That’s babies for you, they grow.” Mrs. Rodriguez winked, smiling as she continued rocking Sally gently, back and forth in a slow arc.

In times like these, Kel always seemed to find some area of protest. “Hey, I’m growing.” He plopped down on the space next to his mother, noticeably dampening his usual energy as he approached his little sister.

The older woman hummed in agreement. “Yes, you’re a big brother now.”

He crossed his arms with a wry grin. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“You’re a big manly man now, are you?” Aubrey raised a brow in amusement. “You talk to Jay too much.”

“You kidding? He still thinks I have little noodle limbs.” Kel huffed with non-serious flair. “And besides, Jay’s buff; you’re not. I’ll listen to him over you on stuff like that.”

“Okay then, noodle arms.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m a girl, I don’t need to be manly.”

“And I don’t need a girl telling me what’s manly or not.”

“Come on now, you two.” Mrs. Rodriguez was soft, but stern. “At least not in front of the baby.” she added with a sly grin. She paused to coo at Sally for a moment before glancing back. “It can’t be helped, your bickering. Give her a good example now.” She pointed at Aubrey first, then Kel. “Big sister, big brother. Remember that.”

Aubrey and Kel stared at each other for a moment, blankly at first, but Aubrey could read the agreement in Kel’s eyes; they shrugged near-simultaneously.

“Good.” And that was that as far as Mrs. Rodriguez was concerned. Sally hardly made a sound as she cuddled in her grasp, wriggling her little arms and marveling at the multicolored pattern of her blanket. “It’s good you caught her while she was awake.”

“I’ve never seen anyone sleep so much.” Kel remarked. “And I’ve looked in the mirror.”

Aubrey smirked. “Honest.”

“It’s true.”

“I know; honest.”

Kel rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Aubrey shrugged. “Well, she’s awake now.”

“Not for long.” Mrs. Rodriguez said candidly. “Go on and shake her hand while you can, get her to notice you. Just be gentle.”

Those little stubs where mitts covered Sally’s hands, Aubrey beheld them with an amused smile. She touched one hand carefully, just enough for the tot to turn her head to face her, she looked scared for just a moment, to some small concern on her end, but settled down to a perturbed stare, watching as Aubrey took her hand completely in hers. Aubrey squeezed gently for good measure; it seemed to work. Sally’s expression softened.

Kel had a rather self-satisfied look on his face. “I think she’s warming up to you.”

“You think so?”

“She usually bawls her eyes out whenever I give that a go, so yeah, I think so.”

“You’ll get it next time, Big Brother.”

Kel had a smirk on, mirroring her own. “I won’t take that lying down, Big Sister. You just got lucky this time.”

“No kidding,” she hummed, “Basil’s tutor sessions really came in clutch.”

Kel interjected before any more could be said; he had just about enough of that. “No extra homework, yadda yadda. It’s not fair, I tell ya.” He bemoaned his misfortune as he pointed off to a stray corner in the room, where his backpack lay, visibly bulging with excess sheets. “Basil’s gotta teach me too.”

Another bemused look crossed Aubrey as she replied. “Well, you don’t ask him to, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Forgot to.”

“Pfft, fair enough.” she snorted. “It’d just be extra work on him.”

“Don’t hog him now, give him some time for himself.”

Aubrey shrugged, but not without some indignance, most of which she directed Kel’s way. “I am. He’s not with me right now, is he?”

“I’ve got eyes, clearly not.” Kel leaned until he rested on his side, arm set under his head lazily. “You didn’t stash him somewhere in your house, no?”

“That’s kidnapping, Kel.”

“Some people call that a sleepover.” He replied. “Where is he then?”

Aubrey looked over to the side, eyes breaking away from Kel. “Well… you’ll know it when you see it.”

“I had a feeling.” Kel buried his hands deep into his down jacket. Aubrey could just about see the faint wisps of his breath in the October air.

“Not that it could be anything else.” Aubrey walked forward a few steps, just quick enough for the leaves to snap underfoot with a crisp crackle, but slow enough to prolong the sound. There was something quite therapeutic about it, one of the many perks autumn afforded her. But after those few steps, she slowed, hesitant, just short of the turn to a familiar sight.

“It's never easier, huh.” Kel mumbled to himself, but Aubrey heard it much the same.

“Seems not.”

“Wasn't he here yesterday?”

Aubrey nodded. “I don't think keeping score matters to him.”

“I didn't say anything about keeping score now, did I?” Kel walked the same steps she did, and soon stood right by her once more. “Just curious, that's all.”

“You know how it is. It's October.”

“Three years,” Kel managed a low whistle, “time flies.”

“Not fast enough, from the looks of things. Not nearly enough time to forget.”

Kel pulled his arms out of his pockets, only to cross them. “Is that what we're really concerning ourselves with? Not like the future's staring us in the face or anything.”

“Memories are memories, you can't just tape over them.”

Kel shrugged. “Brain does it all the time; this isn't our problem. Unless, you're holding on to them.”

Aubrey looked away. “The memories are painful, but I think it'd hurt more to throw them away so quickly.”

Kel raised a brow. “All this talk about forgetting…”

“It's what I want, but…” She peered over once more, down the familiar row, till she could she the top of Basil's head. “It doesn't feel right.”

Kel smiled to reassure. “I don't think Sunny'll mind.”

Aubrey chuckled mirthlessly. “I don't think he knows that.” She pointed off at Basil. “Not that we know that for sure either.”

“Then talk to him. Speak your mind.” Kel took another few steps forward. He looked back. “I know you've got a lot on your mind.” They were close enough now for Basil to take notice; he waved at them after a brief startle, shifting one of his feet to the side to balance himself. He still squatted by Sunny’s headstone upon their approach.

“Basil.” said Aubrey. She crouched down next to him. “Here again.”

His eyes flitted quickly to the side, on her, then back forward. “Yes.” He paused for a moment. “Where’d you come from?”

“My house.” came Kel’s voice, just behind them.

Basil hummed. “You went to see the baby?” Aubrey nodded. “Shame I didn’t get to see her.”

“Don’t say that.” Basil wasn’t in the maternity ward that day; he was in a different wing altogether. “The timing didn’t line up then. And you’re busy here. There’s always next time.”

“I sure hope so.” Some relief came as Basil managed a smile, though his eyes never left the granite in front of him. “I’ll tell him all about it once I do.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It really is a shame, you know.”

“You can say that about a lot of things.” Aubrey replied. “But what can we do? Not much.”

“Can’t be helped.”

“No, it certainly can’t.”

Basil chuckled with genuine amusement. “That’s my line, you know?”

“Let’s talk about it sometime.”

He patted down stray debris off his lap. “I know we will. I’ll take you up on it, just not now.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Chapter Text

Hobbeez, Aubrey enjoyed the sharp clink of the shop door as she pushed it open. The indoor air conditioning sent shivers up her spine, riding up like a bolt of lightning. She paused right where she stood, a step or two past the scuffed welcome mat. She shuffled to the side as her friends walked in ahead of her. Mari beckoned her in; Aubrey could see her gesture from the corner of her vision. Hardly a moment in, and the older girl was already at work— Aubrey hoped she’d never change.

“What do you think about this, Aubrey?” The girl pointed off to a trinket on the adjacent shelf on her approach. She picked it up, and admired the object she held outstretched in her hand, aloft like some trophy.

Aubrey hummed as she thought to herself. “Kel has a slinky already, no? Hmmm,” She brought a finger up to her lips; her eyes arced left and right, following Mari’s hand as it played with the trinket.

Mari chuckled. “The more the merrier, but you’re right. Let's look around and see if we can find anything else. That's what this store is about.”

“We’re in Hobbeez, there's always something to find.”

“And that's what makes it so exciting!” Mari always did have considerable pep in these matters. “If we're gifting something, I think we should choose well, make it perfect, you know?”

“And you think we'll find it here?” Aubrey thought it best to inquire.

Mari nodded, crouching to inspect a few shelves right below. “I find all my best presents here. And besides,” she glanced, briefly, at her, “you and Kel go here all the time.”

“Maybe a little too much.”

Mari saw the fun in it. “A tiring thought, no?” she teased.

“That’s what I’m saying. You ever wonder why Kel’s always short on allowance?” Aubrey placed her hands on her hips, and stared back with a deadpan expression.

The amused smile Mari had on only seemed to grow. “Oh dear. He's a very good customer then.”

“Always tries to skimp me out of my own cash.” Aubrey muttered under her breath. “Too bad for him, I don’t budge.”

“Have you ever considered telling Hero about that?”

“And get him what? A lecture?” Aubrey shook her head. “Kel can do what he wants with his own money. I always keep mine safe from his grubby little fingers.”

Mari raised a curious brow. “Even so, it’s not the best use for it.”

Aubrey shook her head. “12.50 doesn't dent a college fund much. He bought a few comics for himself; Spaceboy, and a few others.”

Mari finished perusing the bottom, and soon set her sights on the top shelves. “I’m surprised you know the amount, down to the cent.”

Aubrey scoffed, “They don’t hide the price tags here; it's not too hard to do the mental math.” but not without a suppressed giggle. “You can’t ask for a loan without mentioning some sort of amount after all.”

“Poor him.” Mari remarked.

“Poor me.” She barked back in a hush.

“I’m sure you’ll find it in you to let that slide.”

“Forgiveness, useful skill.”

“Sure is.” She peeked past the side of the shelf. “You think the boys found anything interesting?” A quaint attempt at changing the subject, Aubrey didn’t mind it one bit. In any case, the boys were just on the other side of the store, eyeing some new game that came out that quarter.

“What do you think they’ll find? That’s your goal,” she shrugged, “our goal, I guess. Bit too early for this, don’t you think?”

Mari shrugged herself. “Never hurts to be early, right?”

“A month is a bit overkill.”

Mari continued to scope ahead as she responded. “A month is 30 days of careful examination. Pedro shuffles his stock every few days.”

Aubrey popped in from behind, miming her little head bobs as she spoke just behind Mari’s ears. “I’m surprised you know shopkeep by name.”

“Well, Sunny needs presents too every now and then. I gotta get those right too. I can’t help it if Pedro’s walking advice. Talk to anyone enough and you'll get their name eventually.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I try my best.”

Aubrey found a smile creeping up, Mari certainly did that, and more besides. The girl continued to pace the area, snooping high and low for any new merchandise.

“You thinking of giving him one after the recital is done?”

“For Sunny you mean?”

“Yeah! Sounds like a fun thing to sweeten the occasion.” Aubrey put on one of her signature v-smiles, and clasped her hands behind her back, shifting her balance from one leg to the other as she swayed from side to side.

Mari thumbed the bottom of her chin, rubbing it slowly. “I didn’t think about that. Good idea!” She smiled. “Thanks, Aubrey! I'll think of something!”

Aubrey found herself giggling under her breath. “Let me guess…” Mari clued in rather quickly.

“We’re here already, aren't we? Might as well give it a nice rundown.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m not hard to predict.”

Aubrey shrugged. “I like that about you. Don’t ever change.”

“I don’t think I ever will.” Mari lingered a moment before turning back, eyes all glistening. Aubrey could tell she meant every word.

“Let’s go then?” she said, pointing off to another shelf, to another corner. And Mari smiled.

“Let’s.”

Idle days at Hobbeez, that was a long time ago. Aubrey busied herself with other things these days; it was another one of those days. Faraway mornings were mercifully pleasant, even in her side of town. Lovely greens all around, trees and all that forestry. She’d seen it all before, but staring at the swaying leaves was always a good way to pass the time. The sidewalk was hot underfoot— at least the welcome mat was cool. She could see the mailman right at the corner of her vision, walking in from the left, from the intersection where Basil’s house would be. He stared with a rather blank expression as he approached.

“You’re an eager beaver.” he said with surprising pep, if not a little sardonically.

“What can I say,” she said back, “I like mail.”

The man thumbed through the mail in his bag. “A lot more mail from what I’m used to.” He pulled out a few envelopes. “Usually just one of these a month.” Aubrey found some amusement from his palpable astonishment.

“It’s regular, that’s what counts.”

“I guess so.” He had his eyes trained on one in particular. “Is it enough?”

It was one of those rare moments, when the air around her just seemed to freeze instantaneously. The words, “Enough to get by.” slipped past any barrier she had in place.

The mailman looked almost sorry for the question. Only the sound of paper rustled between them. “I won’t pry,” he said after a moment of awkward silence.

“I guess you know a check when you see one.”

“You get a sense for it.”

Aubrey shrugged. “We make it work, if that answers the question better.”

“We do, or we don’t. I get the feeling.” He handed the slips over. “You’ve got a penpal, huh?”

“Old friend, yeah.” There was something satisfying about reading the familiar scrawl on the envelope.

“Moved out?”

“College.”

“Oh.” He paused a moment, humming. “She’ll be back for the holidays then?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“R&R sure is great this time of year.”

“Amen to that.”

Somehow, the man pulled a light chuckle out of his stern face. “Not everyone gets a break, but we keep going.”

“That’s the only thing we can do. We go on.”

“You wax poetic for a girl your age.”

“And you wax poetic for a mailman.” Aubrey flinched somewhat at the bite in her words. She glanced up apologetically, but thankfully, he didn’t seem the least bit upset.

“Jobs don’t tell you squat about people. We can be a lot better, or worse, than our appearance suggests.”

“Seems about right.”

The man nodded with some approval. He fastened his bag securely shut as he responded. “I don’t usually give advice, but well, I guess that’s advice.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, I guess.” He peered off in the distance. “I still have a few things to deliver.”

“I won’t keep you any longer. It’s not like I won’t see you again.”

“Take care of yourself then.”

“You too.” Aubrey was almost sad to see him walk away.

Dear Aubrey,

How are things at home? Did you guys have a nice Christmas celebration back in Faraway High? I know I did! We had a wonderful Christmas Party here! They gathered us all in that great big gymnasium court I keep telling you about, with the three floors of bleacher space. All the railings were decorated with Christmas lights; I’d never seen it that festive before. It was the only thing that lit the space up, they flipped all the court lights shut for the mood, if you’ll believe it.

You might find this a little boring, but we had a Secret Santa game setup. We took turns walking to one of those false Christmas trees to stuff our presents under. I gave a nice cozy blanket; here's to hoping the guy likes it. I found the one meant for me, and guess what, it’s a knitted sweater! Hero told me he got a coffee mug, with a cute little print of a stethoscope on it! There was dancing and music, the works! I didn’t do too much of that, but it was fun! I wish you were here to see it. It was too early to celebrate the Millenium, but that just means I get to celebrate it back in good old Faraway. I can’t wait! This New Years will be great; I’ll be coming home after the weekend, so sit tight!

And as always, I know you’ve been writing good news to me all month, but don’t ever hesitate to write any worries in. Remember that I’m always happy to lend an ear (maybe my eyes too, in this case). I’ll always be your caring, older sister.

Love,

Mari

Don’t ever change, Mari.

Chapter Text

The end of a productive day, the clink of the shop bell said as much. Aubrey had skipped ahead; she held the door open for her. “You found all you needed to find, Mari?” she asked.

Mari couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like I’m on some treasure hunt, like some archaeologist.” The plastic bags she lugged on each arm, filled with a variety of knick-knacks, however, said something much to the contrary.

Aubrey didn't look at all convinced. “It’s a lot of presents, just saying.” She paused, but only for a moment. “But I know, ‘the more the merrier’.” To her credit, that cadence and tone was nothing short of a masterful imitation of Mari’s own voice. “It shows them we care!”

“Those are some wise words,” Mari quipped with a lengthy drawl, “I wonder who told you that?”

Aubrey had one of those incredulous smirks on; Mari could glean as much from a mere glance. “If you feel so strongly about it, why don’t you let me help you with those bags.” With her hands on her hips, and with that wide pout of hers, she made for the cutest imposing figure Mari had ever seen.

“I feel so strongly about it, I want to do it myself.” Mari puffed herself up with a faux-prideful air about her. “I think I still got it in me, Aubs.”

“Well watch your knee at least.” Aubrey now trailed behind a step or two as she leaned forward to observe the current state of Maria's bum limb, skipping along the sidewalk as they went along. It was a rather impromptu exercise at composure; it'd been years since anyone had paid sharp attention to her creaky knee, much less stared at it like Aubrey was.

“I always do, you know.” Mari made a poor attempt to rub her head sheepishly, burdened by the bags as she was. Little by little, she slowly shifted her weight off the poor knee, giving the unfortunate impression of a pained hobble. “It doesn’t look all that great from where you’re standing, but I’m managing.”

The effort didn’t do much to placate Aubrey from the look of things. The girl eyed her softly, but not without some stern trappings. “Managing doesn’t sound great.”

“That’s what we all do.”

“Only if we let it. I like helping people, Mari. Let me help you sometime.” Aubrey stopped, lagged behind. It was only then Mari noticed where they were. Was she home already? She made a startled hum at the sudden rustle of one of her plastic bags, and at the speed at which Aubrey had taken it off her hands. “I know how uncomfortable it is to carry a lot of things; let people take a load off every now and then, let me take a load off every now and then, at least on the walk up to your door.”

“Short trip like that?” Little more than ten steps down concrete pathing. “Seems like a waste of your time.”

Aubrey smiled. “You need to knock on the door, don’t you?”

Mari couldn’t help but retort. “You could do that. Now we’re both carrying something.”

Aubrey shrugged. “It’s your house.”

“Well, it is.” Mari did her best to hide her reaction, a near-instant eye roll. “How kind of you.”

“Anytime, Mari.”

*knock*

*knock knock*

December 18, 1999

*knock knock!*

The daily grind, the regular walks, across the campus and through the woodworks. It never gets old, the sights and smells, the spice of outdoor life and the acrid kick of formaldehyde, the contrasting properties of both, and the short ascend up to that long corridor. Perhaps the one thing she loathed was the tireless wait, flanked on either side with the dim ambiance of flickering fluorescents, lighting the space up much like an old television. Mari could almost feel a warm glow, if the winter chill didn’t nap in through the little cracks and crevices; she scowled fiercely at the offending window, at how it rattled. No effort in shutting it would keep the cold out.

*knock knock!*

She knocked again, surely she’d get tired of it one of these days. But, like the journey, it wasn’t quite old yet to her. It’d only been a measly three months; it’d take more than that to wring the life out of her. She was better than that; there was more in her than that small thing could ever wrench. Mari Suzuki, that’s who she was, girl prodigy, trusted friend. It felt rather vain to say, but the world had no shortage of vanity; she was hardly a drop in that vast ocean.

*knock knock knock!*

Well, maybe she tired of waiting just a little. The rough numbness radiating from her knuckles poured fuel to the embers set alight just moments ago. It shot to her hands, redoubling her efforts in gaining the attention of whoever was inside the room; it shot furthermore down to her legs, sowing the seeds of restless movement. The carpet underfoot masked much of the riff-raff, but the door remained as stubborn as ever, and it groaned in protest.

“For the last time, I don’t want what you’re selling!”

A lump quickly formed in her throat; the door wasn’t the only thing to protest. She quickly yelled back, “It’s Mari! Let me in!” and gave the door a few more knocks for good measure.

“Just wait a damned minute, Jesus! On my way!”

She backed up a few steps and stood in wait— quiet wait this time. Something about getting a proper response dulled the nerves that once shifted her from side to side, near instantaneously. Nothing wrong about being a polite girl after all, delayed until the present moment or not. She could hear the muffled beat of oncoming footsteps, and the unlatching of quite a few locks. It opened to a slim man, one of Hero’s oft-absent roommates; he stared at her through squinted eyes. “Hero gave you a key, didn’t he?” He idly scratched the skin underneath one strap of his ruffled tank top. He mumbled a quick “uhuh” when Mari held her key aloft, confirming the query. She pushed it back into one of her pockets, and looked back up with a soft, inquisitive gaze.

“I can’t unlock a door chain now, can I? The key did just fine on the door lock.” She remembered her self-satisfied smirk on the door’s unlock, and the desperate pushing on the door she did when she finally noticed that infernal chain. “Sorry for the fuss.”

“Yeah yeah, say less.” His grip on the door tightened as he groaned to himself. “I’ve got a real pounding headache.”

“From all those parties?”

“The booze you mean.” He waved one hand dismissively. “I know what you’re trying to say, cut the niceties. Yes it’s the booze.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Whatever, forgiven, whatever. Just… come in.” He spun on his heels and hobbled back inside. “You’re here for Hero, not to jaw with me. I’m going back to bed.” His voice ultimately got weaker and weaker, fading as he disappeared into the room.

“Sure, thanks?” With nothing much else to say, she obliged, shutting the door quietly behind her. “Well, Hero?” She peered past the familiar wall to her right; the desk was empty, mercifully enough for the man she was looking for. All the books and sheets were stacked neatly on one corner, but the lamp was on, shining down on a lone ceramic mug. There was a dark, ringed stain on it, remnants of recent escapades into sleeplessness. Any more abuse of that stuff, and Hero would be needing a doctor; Mari saw the irony in it. She picked the mug up briefly; it was lighter than she thought it’d be.

“I’ve gotten a lot of use out of that mug, if you’ll believe it.” Mari turned to face the source of the voice. For once, Hero was on his bed, sitting on it at least. There was unmistakable fatigue glazed over his eyes, but he looked noticeably fresher. That was good, she supposed.

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

“Just means I’m determined.”

“You’ve had that mug barely a week. Hero, it means you’re pushing your body, maybe a little too much.” She cleared a space right next to him, fluffing up the mattress space she soon sat on.

“I’m a busy bee.”

“My darling busy bee, but there’s no harm in lightening up.”

Hero stood up by the end of her response; he paced over to the other end of the room, where the kitchen side lay. “I’ll lighten up when there’s nothing left to learn.” He picked a clean glass from the drying pile and poured himself some water.

“We’re always learning something. I doubt we’ll ever get rid of that.”

“My point exactly.” He beckoned her over, some small semblance of amusement crossing him over the exchange. “The search is endless.”

“So much to search for, so little time.” Mari quipped; she put a soft hand on his shoulder. “But what for?”

“I’ve heard this before.”

“I’m sounding a lot like a broken record, but we’ve only been here three months.”

“Mari…”

“We’re not far in, Hero.”

He brought a stern hand up to silence, and squeezed his eyes shut with a suppressed groan. “This conversation, again.”

“We never really finished it.”

He set the glass down with a subdued clink. “There are just some things, Mari— and you know those things— that we don’t really need to talk about. What’s the point? It just dredges things up.” He massaged the back of his left hand with his right thumb; he hunched forward, eyes gently closed and unmoving.

“We’ll be back in Faraway soon.”

“Monday.” He said, in ever increasing hushed tones.

“On Monday, yes. We’ll be back. We’ll never get away from this; we’ll never forget.”

“Remembering and forgetting’s one thing, you can’t help that. Talking’s a choice.”

“Silence isn’t always the answer.”

“It’s better than speaking, and saying something you end up regretting.”

“You could say that about all action.”

“But the warning is all the same.”

“Warning or not, we have to face it anyhow.”

“Face the music,” he said, a tired huff escaping his lips, “and exit stage right with dignity.”

She nodded. “If possible.”

“There’s no dignity in it.” He paced back the other way, towards a small list of travel items, evidently the few he thought of bringing along with him on the journey. “None for me at least.” he added with a resigned chuckle.

“I don’t think so.” Maybe there was some hope there, there always was hope, right? She opened her mouth once more to speak, but Hero beat her to the punch.

“I think you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Can’t you at least pretend to be excited to return for the holidays?”

The two seemed to stare at each other forever, not a harsh stare by any means, but a lingering one. Hero spoke after the lengthy pause, softly. “Dunno, it’ll feel… different, being idle again after these past few months.”

“Many people would say the break’s a good thing, gets the mind off studies and all.”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to rid from your head, sure.” He pressed his lips down on each other until the right thought seemed to come to mind. “There’s dread there, I think.”

“I’ll ask why, if that’s alright with you.”

Another dry laugh. “You’re welcome to it, not that I have anything concrete.”

“When do we ever? Whatever it is, promise me,” She squeezed her grip on his shoulder, and stared deep into his eyes, piercing through them almost, “let me stand with you for once. If you’re trying to protect me from something, no. We’ve seen it, we remember it, the same things. I understand, Hero.”

“Heh.”

“Hero?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Chapter Text

December 19, 1999

“You think she'll be alright?”

“I think so.”

“You sure?”

Clinics were always uneasy places, with their white hallways, and the bright lights. The smell of powerful antiseptic pushed through every crack like a thick fog; it’d sooner kill him than it did the bacteria. Clinics, hospitals, they were places of healing, sure, but they could be places of numb dread. It was a wonder at all that doctors could keep their heads in places like these, even the doctor he pleaded to, with no small measure of skepticism.

“I understand the worry, but yes, I believe she's on the road to recovery. You saw the signs and rushed her over. The response time tells you the most about the outcome; the quicker the better, for heart attacks most especially.” With some humorous timing, the man attempted to bury his hands into his pockets; he would have succeeded if not for his scrubs. “You can go up and see her, you know? Just as soon as she's transferred over to a room.”

“She’ll be confined then?”

“For the day, maybe overnight till tomorrow. If I’ve learned anything in my time on the clock, it's that we observe before saying anything for sure. It's the prudent thing to do.”

“Because lives are on the line.”

“It’s a costly thing to wager.”

Basil huffed mirthlessly, when was it ever? He turned to face the doctor. “But, you can't afford to go slow either.”

“The mad struggle of healthcare— in most fields I think— speed and accuracy; nipping problems at the bud, or waiting for wiser counsel before even touching the shears. It’s why the training takes so long; the skill needs to be taught to some exacting degree.”

“Until it’s second nature.”

“More than that, it has to be in your very fiber, it has to be part of you.”

“That’s tough going. I suppose that’s how all training goes.”

“In some fields more than others, but yes.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. “In this case, I don’t think you need to worry. Your grandmother isn't in any dire straits. We can afford to observe.” There was sober relief in the statement, on Basil most especially, but some lingering thoughts remained.

“What needs to be done, after she gets home?”

The doctor hummed, but only for a moment, the answer was plain and concise, as if he had it in mind all his life. “Different medication, or a different dosage of the existing stuff, maybe a few extra supplements. But the truth is, that’s maintenance, not a cure.”

Basil sighed, there wasn't much else he could do. “I thought as much.” He looked on; his eyes never really left the doctor.

“I can't say I have an answer, son. I’m sorry to say but, we can't deprive ourselves of loss.”

“This isn't the first.” Basil crossed his arms, and spoke with some surprising candor. “It’s hard to resign yourself to a repeat.”

“It’s not resignation to acknowledge the inevitable.”

“That doesn't make the acceptance any less of a pain. It doesn't sting less.”

“Nor is it meant to.” The doctor rubbed his palms over each other, clasping them in various different angles. He seemed to think long and hard before speaking, this time in a slower, almost fatherly tone. “I find that… company, makes all the difference. Someone to talk to, commune with, make sense of it all with.”

“By that, you mean friends?”

“It’s a good start, but frankly it can be anyone, so long as you trust them. That’s the beauty of us humans, of most of us at least, empathy and sympathy, our ability to connect to just about anyone, because of all the little similarities we all have. I can wax poetic about it all day.”

“It’s not often I see a doctor that waxes poetic.” Basil certainly found the humor in it; it turned the corners of his dour frown up with amusement.

“Psychology was my undergraduate course if you'll believe it. That’s the factor I think. Psych always seems to lead people down one of two paths, to the shy and introspective, or to the cold and calculated. Both have their place, but I’m glad to be among the former than the latter.”

“Anyone with a beating heart would, I think.”

The doctor shook his head. “It’s just another duality. Like any medicine, psychology and psychiatry need to be efficient and effective.”

“Another balance.”

“As it should be.”

“Is there ever an end to it?”

“Maybe, when our world comes to an end.”

“That’s a pessimistic take.”

“The longer you live, I find that you tend to find more reasons to be optimistic about balance.”

“Then I hope to live to ripe old age, maybe I'll see it then.”

“You’re welcome to it; it's your life.”

There was an eerie peace around, something about the soft ambience of the morning shift, the general lack of people; Basil chalked it up to the latter.

“Small town hospitals, quiet places.” he remarked rather pointedly.

“In Faraway at least. You wouldn't want to go to a big city hospital this time of day.”

God, why was this happening?

Basil could hardly flush the memories from the back of his mind. It crept up, like the vermin it was. His throat tightened as he remembered the sight, down to every last detail.

The jet black hair, dyed a velvet red.

The fair skin, mottled in a thousand different places with bruises.

And that was the least of it.

“No, I really don’t.”

“You speak from experience, I can tell.” Basil merely nodded at the notion. “I won't pry.” Basil chuckled at this.

“Seems like everyone is telling me that nowadays.”

“At least they're polite.”

“Polite or not, it grates on the ears after that many repeats.”

“You can tell them as much.” He turned to the sound of clattering footsteps.

“I wish I could.” said Basil. He joined in on the curiosity. Soon, the steps had a face to associate them with, two faces.

“Friends of yours?” the doctor was quick to ask.

“Good friends.”

“Then I'll take my leave.” He smiled at Basil. “I wouldn't make them wait if I were you.”

Basil chuckled for just a moment. “Good idea.” The expression slipped off soon enough. Aubrey almost shoved past the doctor to reach him; he didn’t like the look on her face, dreaded the look almost. The last time she wore that look was a good three years back, in a place much like this. She had the same questions too.

“Aubrey, Cris.” he mumbled.

Tears pooled in the corners of Aubrey’s eyes, like the last time. “How is she?” Basil started with a yelp as her arms wrapped themselves around him.

“I… she,” Basil could hardly string a sentence in situations like these. There was an overpowering warmth about, from Aubrey, as well as within him. It soothed the stray nerves; he found a small smile on his face. “she'll be alright. She's resting, for now.”

“Oh thank God!” She squeezed even tighter than before. “I really thought that she… she was…”

“Not today it isn’t.” There was something about it, there was a peace of sorts, in the embrace. Basil could smell floral wisps. “I’m glad you came,” Past the obstruction of a teal ribbon, he could see Cris, she smiled with some reassurance, “the both of you.”

“We came as soon as we heard.” Cris said. “Kel too, but we took off faster than he could.” She chuckled at the thought.

“I didn't want you to sit here alone. I couldn't bear the thought of it.” Aubrey whispered softly into his ear, asking, “Are… you alright?” It wasn’t a question he could ever answer for sure.

“Knowing my grandmother’s alright, I guess. The definition’s never the same when it comes to us, isn’t it?” Basil was almost disappointed when Aubrey slowly loosened her grip on him, but some sense took ahold of him, and he cast an arm over to some nearby seats, beckoning the both of them to sit; he resigned to it himself, resting his head right where the bench met the wall. “The wait’s just horrible though; they’re thinking of letting her stay the day here.”

Terrible thing, silence, but for lack of conversation, it was only inevitable. It came like a thick fog, settling in to muck everything up, paralyzing even the slightest of movements. It was like that day; a pit opened up in his heart that day.

Dead on arrival, what a horrible phrase.

He couldn't believe it then— hell, he could hardly believe it now. These memories, they were always a special kind of torture. Basil could feel each beat of his heart; his pulse throbbed behind his ears. Composure was a fickle thing, and he fought to keep it.

But, he wasn't alone in the hospital that day.

“We'll stay here as long as you want.”

“You don't have to do all that, Cris, but I appreciate it.”

“Anything to keep you sane,” the girl quipped, “I know how dull it gets when things aren't going wrong.”

Basil cracked a wry smile, morbid humor was a blessing in rare circumstances like these, the differences at least. For all the similarities, he could at find some hope that things would get better today. It was like that old saying, he heard it once said in church. It struck him, really.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted…

It went on and on.

… a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up…

Aubrey had sat right next to him; she didn't say a word, but she tried her best to be some sort of comfort. She rested one hand on his; frankly it was effective comfort.

… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…

The warmth of her hand could thaw even the coldest of hearts; it set his ablaze. Oh Sunny. What was Basil to do? All the memories, good and bad. It was hard to keep one without throwing others. What would he think about all this? It was all so deeply hard to admit, not to Sunny, not to himself, not to anyone at all.

He really did love her.

He grabbed her hand and held on. He’d allow himself this, at least for the moment.

“What’s the news?”

“Basil’s grandma will be alright; he gave me the runthrough as soon as I got here. They just about got her transferred to a room.” Cris spun on her heels and began walking back inside. “Glad for you to join us.” she quipped.

“Traffic, Cris. Me and my dad got here as fast as we could. I dunno how the hell you and Aubrey teleported yourselves here.”

The girl chuckled. “Worry makes you do the weirdest things.”

“Pfft, don’t you mean love?”

“They come hand in hand. And besides, the both of us are here, aren’t we?”

“Ahh, we love Basil.”

“He’s been through a lot, we have to give him all we can.”

“True that.” Kel kept in pace with the blue-haired girl, round a corner to another hallway. The rooms were up the stairs, weren’t they? “I thought we were on our way to the rooms.”

“Detour, I think it’s worth seeing.” Two familiar figures sat just up ahead, on one of those long, metal benches. Kel could just about get what she meant.

“I suppose he didn’t all that much sleep this morning.”

“Seems about right.” He managed a peaceful slumber on that bench, somehow. Aubrey too. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.” Cris muttered with some jest. They held their hands even then; Aubrey’s head lay on his shoulder.

“Should we wake them up?” Endearing as it was, it was the ER they were sitting next to. Kel mulled the thought over even as he said it. But Cris shook her head.

“Eventually, but, maybe we should give them their rest.”

“You mean their moment.”

Another laugh. “Well, whatever you call it. I’ll leave them to it.” It was one of the rare times they looked quite so… content.

With a wry grin, Kel obliged.

Chapter Text

8:50 in the morning, the church was aflutter with movement; it wasn’t much longer before the service began. The people of Faraway especially treasured this long tradition, and even now people walked in, young and old, alone or with their families, until the church was filled to capacity. They’d dressed rather finely for the occasion, as they often did, with enough pressed suits and dainty dresses between them all to run a charity ball; some dressed closer to normal folk, clean, but most especially humble. Aubrey found herself somewhere in between, though fashion mattered little when you find yourself shuffled tightly between fellow members of the congregation.

The pastor soon walked up the little stage to the pulpit. There was always a shocking lack of fanfare to this; solemnity was never in short supply in these parts. But they all seemed to brace for the coming sermon all the same. The man had a tendency to speak far longer than the timetables suggested— it was a wonder they never adjusted the tables to match— but there was time enough for that, he motioned for the congregation to stand.

Morning prayers, the standard affair. Aubrey shut her eyes, her head bowed down. The pastor's voice echoed through the hall; it seemed to reach her from all angles, but she paid little heed to it. She had her mind to herself; she knew what she wanted to pray about.

“Dear Lord…” she began.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Aubrey’s eyes remained how they were, closed, but she knew the voice very well. “I think you say that every time you find me.”

“Sunday, past nine in the morning,” she could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. The voice seemed right up against her ear now, “and some very prayable worries. I almost forgot they had these in hospitals.”

“What’s it to you? Let me pray in peace.”

“If I said I wanted to pray too, would you believe me?”

“Depends,” she tightened her grip, and brought her head down till it touched the top of her knuckles, “I’d like to finish this first.”

“Go ahead.”

She prayed only for one thing, it wasn’t supposed to take this long, but still it swirled around, repeating itself over and over again, all in her own voice. Hospitals were always a cold place, and only dire straits ever brought people to this corner of the building, to the small parish all institutions built as some sort of courtesy.

“Poor Basil, him and his grandmother both.” It took another moment or two for her to realize she said that aloud. Kel's knowing him clued her in. “Tough deal in life, you know?” she continued in a stammer.

“Not as bad as the deal you've been handed.” It was an offhanded remark, but it made Aubrey open her eyes with a start. She could feel the steel in her gaze as it locked on Kel. Her temper quickly drained; Kel looked rightly spooked, made an instinctual flinch backwards even. The embarrassment hit her rather quickly soon after.

“Sorry, I shouldn't… do that.” No manner of eye aversion seemed to help, everything seemed to look on disapprovingly at her, down to the decorative Jesus at the far end of the room. She felt herself sink deeper into the faux plush seat she sat on. After another moment of restless silence, Kel spoke up.

“You don't need to feel bad about it.”

“Can't help it if I am,” she replied, “force of habit.”

“Which part, the Medusa stare or the instant regret?”

“The instant regret.” she said with a scoff. “I'm starting to think I shouldn't be so sorry.”

“Rapid changes of heart aren't good for you, Aubrey.”

“And sarcasm isn't good for you, Kel.” She rolled her eyes. “You'll get a nice big goose egg on your forehead for it one of these days.”

Kel chuckled. “There will be no violence in the house of God.” he bellowed, voice artificially deep, emulating some deity.

“Hmm, can’t use his name in vain now, can you? You should know better.”

“Well I’m glad you do.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “At least you can keep me in check.”

“Don’t I usually?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Kel’s face settled into a soft frown. “Were you always a goody-two-shoes church girl?”

Aubrey narrowed her eyes briefly. “Is that a genuine question?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my dad walked me there every Sunday; he’s the one I always went with. It was nice to be with a group like that, doing things together with them.”

“Like with us?”

“Kinda, they were like a… another family, you know?” There was something to be said about it, all the shared hymns, the shared focus, the shared values. “A better family, I guess. I read something about that before, Basil was all fascinated with it and just had to show me.” She giggled at the memory. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

“From one of his books I’m guessing?”

Another wistful smile. “One of the many; there were shelves everywhere! Dozens of books in them.”

“Maybe hundreds.”

“Some collection,” she hummed, “they were both wonderful readers, Basil and his grandma.”

“You raise someone for the better part of ten years, I think the two of you would end up finding something in common, no?”

“All the more reason to pray then. Thoughts like that, you know, give you all sorts of pressure to do something.” Crossing her arms, Aubrey cradled her elbows with each hand. “A connection like that, sharing so much with someone, I think you'd feel it a lot more when that person's gone, doing the things that you used to do together.”

“Those are the cards; it's hard to stack the deck any other way. It’s the price of connection— you remember. It's how I felt when Sunny died, I’m sure I’ve told you this before…” he trailed off, eyes staring into space, unfocused. “I used to have dreams, nice dreams, early on in the weeks after the funeral. My mind was rerunning some very happy memories, of Sunny.” His eyes snapped to attention and turned towards her. “Then I’d wake up, and I’d remember.” He tarried a moment to gather himself; Aubrey could see the thoughts swimming in the darks of his eyes. “Pray as long as you need.”

She bowed her head, with a crooked, wry smile forming on her face. “It’s funny, really.”

Kel had one of those quizzical looks. “Oh what is?”

“This talk about prayer— it’s sad more than funny now that I really think about it— I remember some terrible ironies.”

“Ironies?”

“You hardly ever get what you ask for, no?”

“What do you want to pray for, Aubrey?” The voice of her father rang loud and clear into her ears, even in a whisper. “It’s hard to choose sometimes, it gets me all lost.” He mumbled with some whimsical charm.

She very nearly broke a smile— but there was nothing a firm press down on her lips couldn't do to help with that. “You can pray for all of them, whatever’s in your head.”

“That would take a long while, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, church isn’t over.” The pastor still spoke from the pulpit, leading the rest of the congregation in one, lengthy prayer. Though she didn’t pay a close ear to the contents, all the familiar words were pouring in: guidance, protection, forgiveness, and all the like. She knew it all well, and she was well on her way to repeating herself for the umpteenth time if she prayed to that effect now. Her mind was her own, and so she prayed.

The recital was coming up, just barely six days to go. Sunny and Mari, they had worked and worked for weeks, months, almost a whole year for the occasion. Many a sacrifice in time, effort, and no small amount of sanity surely, all for one, enormous payoff this Saturday, in some lone concert hall. She already had a dress set aside for the grand affair, far prettier than the tidy thing she had even now for church. She hoped, no, prayed, for it all to go well.

“Lord, please make the recital a success.” She could almost imagine the standing ovation, a rousing success indeed. She hoped she could always remember it. “They can play such beautiful music.” Carried by the mood, she said it all aloud, but her voice got lost in the chorus, in the mix of all the hopes and dreams of every speaking soul there, in the flow with that final word.

“Amen.”

“And then there was one.” Kel buried his hands in his pockets. “You do know that wasn’t on you, right?”

“I know that much,” she scoffed, “doesn’t make me feel much better knowing that in any case.”

“Any way to make peace with the whole thing, I’d take that in a heartbeat if I were you.”

“At all costs I bet.” Aubrey mumbled in offhand disregard, she shook her head. “I think I hear this every few weeks.”

“This isn’t ride-or-die; you’re not throwing anything away.” He looked proper crossed for a second before a glimmer of amusement washed over his face. “Heh, now this is Cris’ words, not mine, but, it’s just a lot of walking right up to the issue, and slapping it right where it hurts.”

“Classy lady.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, but the point’s there. We’ve got a lot of life left to live,” he balked a moment as that mouthful of a sentence left him, “we do our part to cope, but we don’t stay there; we’re not supposed to.”

“Tell that to Basil.”

Kel shook his head. “Bad timing. There’s a time for it but, bad timing.” He glanced at her from the corner of his vision; Aubrey could feel it as soon as his gaze hit.

“Do you have any ideas?” A tentative plea. Aubrey was never one to take advice from Kel of all people, but she could hardly afford to do the wrong thing. The wrong thing would surely be disastrous; it could very well destroy Basil. The thought horrified her more than anything.

Kel could see right through her, like he always did these days; it was never hard to tell when he’d flash that sympathetic look again, brows down and furrowed, hand all clasped gently behind him. “I wish I had one, Aubrey.” he began, deep folds now creasing the corners of his mouth. “But, I’ll think of something. Let me pray on it.” He was back to his old self, jovial, playful.

At least, for the moment.

Chapter Text

Kel always liked the slow rumble cars made as they rolled their way down smooth asphalt. It was the sort of thing that could rock him right to sleep, especially after a long day at some event— school, maybe some fun outing at the beach. The hospital didn't quite have the same sheen, but the return was no different. Good or ill, they ran down the same long, straight path to his corner of the suburbs.

The car stopped soon enough, a smidge premature. His father turned over to him, and motioned over to the door. Kel bared a bemused grin; there was hardly any need for that. His door popped open with a muffled *poomph*, and he hopped out.

“Coordination, how sweet.”

Kel smiled, even from the back seat of a car, Cris never failed to dish out some sass. “Never hurts to be prepared.” he replied, on beat with his steps.

“Prepared eh?” She had one of her curious smiles on, taking some time to prop her arms aloft, comfortably behind her head.

He pulled her door open. “Surprised?”

“Amused.”

“You're always amused.” He remarked; he held a hand out to her. She grabbed on.

“Only when it concerns you, believe me.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

The smallest hint of pink peppered her cheeks. Kel couldn't help but stare. “The usual, eyes only for you and all that.” But, she maintained much of her bravado, prominently in the way she punched his arm with no shortage of embarrassment.

Kel scratched his head sheepishly. “It's sweet, whatever it is.”

She huffed. “As long as you like it I guess.”

He shrugged. “What's not to like?” He walked on ahead, arcing one arm over in a beckoning motion.

“Dunno with you.” One of the usual confusing responses. Kel never cloaked to get them, or like them for that matter. He simply rolled his eyes, armed with the certainty that Cris couldn't see the expression.

“At least we're home.” he said instead. “Something good to end the day with.”

Some silence came to reign in the short interim as they walked the dozen or so steps up Cris’ driveway. “Say that to Aubrey.” The girl made no attempts at sugarcoating the matter. “Maybe I should’ve tried harder to convince her to join us on the way back.”

With a wry smile, Kel chuckled mirthlessly. “You know her, once she gets an idea in her head, it’s hard to put her on any other track.”

“A lot like you then?”

“Well, if you say it that way…” he trailed off with a snort. “Guess it’s no wonder we fought so often.” They ascended the steps, and Cris rang the doorbell; the electric buzz was always a comfort.

“Birds of a feather, I guess.”

“Is this why I can’t shake her off even after all these years?” Kel mused aloud.

“I think that’s her line, Kel.”

He huffed. “Maybe.”

“It’s about time the two of you came home.”

Kel never knew how his mother did it, how she could sense anyone who so much as touched the front door. He’d barely opened the door a crack, and his father was behind him, nowhere near the door. “How did you figure it was us?” he queried as he pushed ahead into the space.

“Strangers don’t park in our driveway, mijo.” she chided; Kel could hear the pleasant sizzle of a well-worn skillet in the adjacent room. That’s where his mother was, which made the conversation all the more astonishing. Her voice certainly did echo throughout the house in the best of days, he supposed.

“I guess not. Is that dinner I’m smelling?” Whatever it was, he was liking it very much.

Even from here, he could hear the disapproving tisk-tisks from the other room. He braced himself for any unfortunate reaction. “Fried rice, and a few others; it’s almost done. You should be lucky I started a little later, else your food would have been cold.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.” Kel deadpanned with a chuckle. He poked his head into the kitchen, taking a bigger, better whiff of that nice, savory scent in the air. “I’m sorry I was out for so long, if that helps.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get thirds later.” She turned with a smile. “I think it’s working, Kelsey. I know where you and your father were, that’s fine. How did it go?”

Kel paced the room, settling on the space next to his mother. “Went well, Basil’s grandma will be alright.”

“And Basil?”

“He’ll be alright as long as his grandma is. I think he’s just relieved.”

“Living with someone his grandmother’s age, one can’t help but worry. It’s the same with children; I know how much I was worried when I was looking after you and your brother— Sally too. The love makes you think of all sorts of things.”

“Bad things?”

“You can only be worried about the bad things, no?” She deftly tossed the rice in her skillet, mixing it evenly with the added ingredients. “It makes you scared sometimes.”

“Any way we can help things like that?”

She seemed to think long and hard; she bit down on her lower lip. “We find things that cheer them up, comfort them; I think you’ve had that idea before.”

“The little things.”

“Does wonders, you’ll be surprised.” A pause, she pulled a large bowl out in the interim. It was a fine time to pour her hard work into the final vessel. “You did remember to take the girls home with you, yes?”

He rolled his eyes. “Have some faith, Cris is safely home.”

“And Aubrey?”

“Declined, said she wanted to stay there the night.”

Work complete, she turned over to him. “Is Basil still there?” she asked, her eyes creased with some worry.

He nodded. “Polly stopped by. When Basil turned her down, she went into her bag and pulled some pillows out.” He huffed mirthlessly soon after. “Nurses and their contingency plans.”

“Hospitals aren’t very comfortable places.”

“I don’t think Basil cares about that.”

“He ought to, he can’t be around if he’s sick. And with Aubrey sticking with him like that, he should think of her too.”

“I’ll tell him that then.”

“When you can, but I know where he’s coming from. Be gentle with him.” She handed him the bowl. Heavy thing, Kel was rather surprised when the full weight of it landed on his hands and braced arms. She motioned him to the doorway, back into the main dining space. He obliged.

“When am I not?” he said, replying with a knowing grin. “I’m not mean.”

She broke out into a light giggle. “Nice or not, he’ll need extra care. He was always a kind, sensitive boy, takes things to heart.”

“The things he’s seen…” Kel trailed off. “Can’t say I’d like to be in his shoes.”

“You can imagine at least, that’s all that matters. See things where he’s at.”

“It’s hard when he doesn’t tell you too much.”

“Give it time.”

“Three years isn’t enough time?”

Kel’s mother tarried a response; she walked on ahead of him. “You don’t count that sort of thing.”

“I do, I want him to be happy.”

“Then give it time.”

“I was wondering when the food would get here.” Kel’s father brought his fingers together with palpable delight on his face.

“Afraid I was gonna eat it all?” Kel barked back playfully, flourishing the bowl of freshly fried rice in his hands.

The older man had a grin even wider than before. “No,” mischievous amusement deep in his voice, “because I know your mother was looking at you real hard to not do that.”

The woman huffed, bemused. “And I’m carrying the rest of the meal besides.”

“But rice is rice!” Kel cried.

“And carne is carne. Rice is awfully sad without sides.”

“We can all agree it won’t do to have one without the other.” Kel’s father beckoned the two of them as he stood up. “I’m sure the two of you are as hungry as I am.” Like the gentleman he was, he readily gave a helping hand to his wife, if not only to speed up the dinner setup. “Best place to talk is the dinner table.”

Kel did his best to suppress a laugh. The dinner table was the best place to eat. He could see the way his father eyed the dishes; it was the same look he himself gave, admittedly. “Talk about what?” he queried, gingerly setting the bowl down on the table as he did so.

“Plans! Lots of plans! It's the holidays, you know?”

“They gave you the week off?”

“I'm free on Christmas. Should be enough.”

“For the presents?”

“If you have any for me.” Kel’s father grinned, but shook his head. “The picture.”

“Uhuh.”

His mother was none too pleased at his disregard for it. “It’s good for the occasion, nice family photo.”

“Something to put on the living room wall, you know?” His father added.

“Like the ones the Suzukis have?” Parents, the little children below, it was nice.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Kel shrugged. “I hear that a lot.” He thought about it for a moment before grimacing. “With the suits and everything?”

“I know a good rental place in the city.”

Stuffy little things, Kel could never get behind them, or into them, rather. It was hard to mask the displeasure. His parents found some amusement in it.

“I’ll be driving you there, don’t worry about it, champ! Hero’ll be there to keep you company too! He’ll be needing a suit too.”

“Oh good, I bet he’ll love it. Nice surprise for him.”

“After meeting Sally, I think he’ll love it. It’ll make him warm and fuzzy for the holiday season.”

And just on cue, like she was listening, the girl in question began to bawl her eyes out, or so the sound would suggest. It echoed down the hallway from the floor above. His mother looked simply exhausted.

“You know, I thought she finally went to sleep.” she said, voice going hoarse for just a moment.

“Oh, that’s the trouble sometimes.” Kel’s father smiled knowingly, sympathetically. “I could go to her if you want.”

“Or me.” Kel piped in.

His mother regarded him with renewed vigor. “She’ll bawl till Christmas if I sent you up. I don’t want any surprises like that.”

He scoffed. “Not much of a surprise if you know that’s gonna happen.”

His father laughed affirmatively. “That’s true!”

“Hmph! I’ll leave you two to your jokes. I’ll feel a lot better once Henry comes home.”

“I bet.” Kel hummed under his breath. Hero did cheer his mother up, as golden boys often did. His brother meant to drive home; Kel wondered what he was doing now. He brought a thoughtful finger up to his cheek, mind withdrawing from the lively conversation in front of him.

Maybe dinner, he thought. Who could live without that?

“We didn’t forget anything, did we?” The car boot slammed down with a crisp *poompf*. Hero blinked against the new distraction of the red brake lights shining right at him. He peered in through the rear window, at every bag and every box; that seemed like everything. All that was left was himself, and his companion.

Frankly, they were the most important cargo there, if he’d allow himself that crude moniker.

“I think so.” Mari had little space in her for much fanfare, or pep. The night was young; and the journey had yet to begin. She walked around to the passenger’s side, glancing back at him. “Bit late to drive, don’t you think?”

“The roads are clearer this time of day.”

“Or night.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Or night.” Pacing the few steps to the driver’s door, he replied. “I think it’d be good to surprise them.”

“Not if you pass out on the wheel, that is.”

“You can trust me that I won’t.” The door popped open with a satisfying click. To some surprise, it was Mari’s door.

“I wouldn’t be riding shotgun if I wasn’t.” She gestured through the tinted side windows. “Ready when you are.” came her voice, muffled from within.

The close of a door, the turn of the ignition.

And the car roared to life.

Chapter Text

Another school morning, the sun just about peeked over the trees. It was good to be outside, Hero certainly thought so. He took in the scenery, just as soon as he closed his front door with a gentle tug. There was a lasting beauty in the greenery around him, at how the sunlight danced and bounced around them; it seemed to sparkle in the autumn wind. He crouched down and gave his shoelaces a knowing pull to secure them— Lord knows that always saved him a world of hassle in the proceeding hours. It never hurt to be thorough.

The bus was sure to come in the next fifteen minutes or so, Hero had time enough to peer into the nearby doghouse. He regarded the pup with a warm smile, Hector still lounged contentedly on the little mattress within. Some extra rest was a good thing he supposed, Kel was sure to emerge any moment, and from there, an endless game of catch, or one of the myriad of tricks he taught the talented little tyke. It'd be wise to leave Hector well enough alone for now, the poor thing. Even the pup seemed rather grateful for the gesture, barking a little farewell yip as Hero slowly shifted away. The streets awaited him.

Hero watched as the intermittent car passed by; this early in the morning, there weren't many of them on the road in these parts. Most sped as fast as the suburban limits allowed— hauled ass to their little corner of the world— but some ambled on at a leisurely pace. He always could tell which of them had the income to disregard silly things like punctuality; unfortunately for him, he wasn't one of the fortunate ones. He drummed the side of his thighs with his fingers on either side.

It was restlessness, of course; on balance, it was a great motivator. The many trophies perched atop the cobbled shelf in his room was great testament to that, but some days remained where he hoped he might curb this neurotic tendency. The fact his eyes itched for any glimpse of that yellow school bus was evidence to that, very other, truth.

But on this little mad trip of his, eyes still scanning the horizon for any trace of the old reliable bus, he found something else to take his mind off that, at least for the time being; anything that could make his heart flutter would certainly do that and more.

“Mari,” he remarked with a quaint wave, “Sunny.”

They waved back.

The barrage of snow against the windshield, Hero could never get the sound of all that whirring out of his ears. At this speed, like white noise, the sound peppered his senses, obscuring most other stimuli. All he could do was keep his eyes ahead, firm, alert. Miles of road stretched on ahead; he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he trundled onwards.

The sun was hardly over the horizon, but that was a comfort more than a hindrance. At least there was some light out now; it was miles better than peering down the length of the car’s headlight beam. It illuminated hardly an arm's length ahead, he dared not go much faster than the measly 30 he pulled for the past few dozen miles. There was little need for squinting now.

Hero wondered how long his hands gripped the wheel now. Miles upon miles of interstate highway lay behind him; all that was left was the long stretch of semi-rural road, the last road home. Often did it turn, but even more often did it stick straight ahead. The occasion tree would pass the periphery, but the grove of evergreen was yet to appear. He wondered how long he had left to go.

He peered up for a moment at the image in his rearview mirror; he found it in him to indulge in a smile, for the briefest of moments. Mari curled up in the back seats, blanket tightly draped over her; she occasionally tugged it ever closer even in her unconsciousness. She’d crawled back there sometime in between all the hectic driving, between the last interchange and that perilous expressway. Mari always had a knack for getting places, whether she intended for it or not. There wasn’t much to be done about the latter, but the former was always a sight to see. She had a rare kind of drive— nothing but the best.

There wasn’t much Sunny could do to stop her, Mari skipped ahead, bum knee be damned, and after all that talk from the doctor all those years ago, and all the continued talk from her mother, Hero admired her persistence. Her saving grace was the distance, or the general lack of it; there was great benefit to living right next door, and to her it was this. She was at his side in no time, and another moment later, so was Sunny. Indeed it was the younger boy who flailed a moment at the sudden stop, and overshot several steps ahead before skidding on his heels to a tepid stop. A rapid flush soon rose in the boy’s face, and he made a sheepish attempt at hiding it. Hero fought the inevitable grin, but let it settle into something kinder, sweeter, sympathetic he ultimately supposed.

“Are you alright, Sunny?” Mari was a big sister first and foremost, though her amusement shone through all the way. The boy nodded; she took it upon herself to look him over very briefly, just to be sure. “You could’ve tumbled, you know?”

“It’s not your fault, but it never hurts to be more careful.” he added, like some addendum to a government notice. “I might be good at patching wounds, but we’d all be better off if I didn’t have to patch things in the first place.”

“That meaning no unnecessary injuries, of course.” There was a certain nicety in Mari’s flavor of straightforwardness, made manifest in moments like these. “Kel fills that space plenty, doesn’t he?” It was a question more for Hero, than her doting little brother, but both boys nodded just the same.

“It’s a good thing he's damage resistant.” Hero mumbled off-handedly, under his breath. His quip didn’t go unnoticed.

“That’s Kel for you. It’s a quirk.”

“Good quirk.” he remarked. “I can't have it any other way.”

They settled into an idle stance. Hero could often tell when the bus was coming over, hear it rumbling from a mile away, but he heard nothing so far. He crossed his arms, and Mari attended to her brother; the two siblings fidgeted rather impatiently. Sunny raised himself up on his tiptoes, then down till his heels were back on the ground, repeating the motion every few seconds. Mari was simpler in her impatience; she tapped her foot to the beat of some imaginary drum. Her eyes never left the road, still scanning for that old bus.

“I’m surprised you guys still have energy.” There was only so much observation he could do without a word of remark. “I could hear you two practicing all night.” Hero could listen to it forever, to all that sweet music. It floated into his room like a siren’s song, softly echoing from the house next door, stopping often, but never for too long. It was near flawless.

Mari flushed a moment in embarrassment. “You could hear all that? I hope I didn’t keep you up.”

He shook his head. In truth, the tune lulled him to a peaceful sleep. “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve seen my dad enough times with dark circles in his eyes to feel just a little guilty.” She managed a chuckle. “He tells me he stays up to enjoy the music.”

Hero smirked. “How nice. It’s lovely music.”

“Well, let's hope the audience likes it.”

“After all that practice, I think they will.”

She rubbed the back of her head, and adjusted a few loose strands of hair that got in the way. “There's still a few rough spots. It could be better.”

“That’s what the practice is for. You'll iron it out before the week is through.”

“We’ll need to work a little harder for that, just a few more rounds, I think.” Mari placed her hands on her hips, straightening her back with renewed confidence. “We’ll get it, right Sunny?” Hero followed her gaze back to the onyx-haired boy. Sunny blinked with palpable exhaustion. Despite all the hopped-up energy the siblings possessed, the limits of the human body was always going to catch up to them somehow.

“Maybe after some rest.” Hero remarked, though the advice meant little in the wake of a new school week. “At this stage of things, from what I can tell and hear, it shouldn't take much to get things all perfect.”

“Yeah!” Hero always liked it when Mari was peppy. “Some rest!”

A nice, long rest.

The snow never let up, still it barraged the car, swirling around in loose sheets of white. Even as the rough, semi-rural road turned into fresher suburban asphalt, the weather was just as hostile, just as protesting as it was when he pulled out of that dorm driveway. He gripped the wheel ever tighter, till his knuckles were as white as the snowdrifts outside.

He sighed, if only that was the one thing that swirled his mind.

Hero saw it in his eyes that day, the trepidation, the exhaustion. It was hard to get the image out of his head now, even as he stared over into the horizon, past all that white, where the harsh reds of the sunrise slowly shifted into a lighter, much more comfortable yellow. He didn’t feel it then, but he certainly felt it now, as the image slowly burned its way in, the absolute drain. Did Sunny always feel that way? How long had he felt that way?

“Sunny was so… tired.” His voice was hoarse, empty. The long drive was finally getting to him. It took precious seconds for him to notice he was mumbling to himself. But soon the journey would be at its end, Hero thought he could finally see the evergreens. In no time at all, he’d be in the suburbs, right where that bus would pass by on lively school mornings. Like on that day…

Five days till the recital, when all their worries were of school, or that ever impending event. Five days from then, and those worries now all seemed so trivial.

A gentle noise turned his head, his attention, from the road briefly to the back seats. Mari made a large effort to conceal the yawn that soon escaped her mouth. From the rear view mirror, he stared back at her with a knowing look; it never escaped his notice that she stirred minutes before. She had heard all his little musings. The road still lay ahead; Hero called back from behind the wheel.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked. He could see rows upon rows of evergreens now.

But Mari shook her head. “No.”

There was time yet, he supposed.

Chapter Text

After a long night of endless rumbling, the car finally found some well needed rest. The only thing replacing it now was the sound of Hero's voice.

“Here we are, back again.” Mari listened in, her ears working harder than her half-open eyes. She could just about see Hero stretching his right arm over his head, and gingerly rolling down the driver side windows with his left hand. “You miss it yet?” he continued, voice rather hoarse. He let out the smallest bit of laughter, almost forcefully amused at his own joke. Mari looked around— Othermart’s parking lot— unusual place for a question like that. She held her tongue on that matter though, the answer always came in due time.

“You don’t sound like you've missed it at all.” she replied instead, shifting over to the center and resting herself between the two front seats.

“I do, I’m just tired.” He leaned back and glanced at her with a bleary side-eye. “I’d have been dumb to sleep behind the wheel; I haven't slept a wink yet.” He blinked twice: two, agonizingly slow times. But she took the display with some stride.

“Just a little less sleep than you usually do then?”

Hero's eyes sharpened for just a moment, a rare event. Rare enough to quiet her for the moment. “A lot less than you think.” he said. “You think I burn candles at both ends? I don’t.”

Mari shrugged, and leaned her head over to his side. “But you do leave the fluorescents open while you sleep on the desk. That just damages the bulb, you know?”

“So I’ve heard.” he said, looking away.

“My dad's given me enough lectures on it to burn that fact into my head. He always grumbles about having to buy new ones.” “In this economy?” Those were his words, which she recalled rather fondly.

“I’m surprised he's worried about a thing like that. Shouldn't be a sweat for someone like him.”

She crossed her arms stiffly. “He’s a dad, doesn't matter what tax bracket he’s in. There's just some things not worth going to Fix-it over.”

Hero peered out the open windows again, eyes scanning about again. “Look, if it's my sleep schedule you're talking about, just say so.”

“I have, but still I find you slumped over the desk.”

“We have our share of oddities, and tight-lippedness.” With a contented huff, Hero opened the driver side door, and stretched his left leg out till his heel was flat on the cracked concrete outside. “You know I do; you have them too.”

“We'll have to talk eventually— properly, I mean.” She watched as he brought an arm out to help extricate himself from the cramped driver's seat.

“I will if you will,” he replied with a groan, “all in its time, Mari”

“Whatever time that is.”

“Whenever I'm ready,” he peered back inside with great intensity, “whenever you're ready.”

“Whenever those two meet.” She concluded, both to herself and aloud. “And that leads us…”

“Here.” Hero arced one hand out at the surrounding landscape. “We need to keep busy somehow.”

“Othermart.” she exclaimed with faux wonder, almost to the point of matter-of-factness. It was the sort of thing she grew accustomed to over the years. It was funnier, unabashed displays of ironic enthusiasm. It never displaced her genuine feelings for long, but it helped lighten the mood.

“I see you’re excited.” Hero took to the sarcasm rather wonderfully— either that, or he was too tired to care. Whatever the case, he beckoned Mari to exit the car, with the usual waves and come-hither gestures. He fiddled with his watch soon after in the interim, but he'd pop his head back up to look at her every few seconds. Evidently, he wasn’t keen on venturing on without her. As often as he was her source of extra bravado, she was just as often his, or so the thought went. “Come on.” he added, after a few seconds of patient staring.

Faraway Plaza was one of those old magical places; foreign, but remarkably homey in spite of it. A third space she heard people call it once, the same way they used to refer— or still refer to, perhaps— the park. A place where people could meet up, intentionally or incidentally. More often than not though, people came here for a purpose. There were only a few choices; it wouldn’t be hard to guess.

“Is this shopping or eating?” she asked, it seemed an illuminating enough question for her purposes. Both made equal sense given the circumstances.

Hero only had plain answers. “Shopping,” and with little fanfare to the response.

“This early in the morning?”

“A fine time for it, no?” They paced the length of the parking lot, slowly closing in on the plaza with every step.

“We have to count our luck sometime; it’s a wonder they’re open.” Mari could hear the fountain now, the endless stream of water that spouted off the top splishing onto the little pool below. From there, Hero hooked a sharp right.

“Almost there.” The man muttered to himself, though it was hardly inaudible.

“Fix-it then?” There was something charming in the dilapidated exterior of that old, reliable tool shop. “You need something?”

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“You know, the pretty pink ones I can put into a bouquet.”

“How quaint.” Mari felt an amused smirk tugging at her lips; she indulged in it. “What for?” She could just about hear a low hum come out of Hero's mouth. He entered the store wordlessly, pacing in like he was window shopping, arms clasped behind him as he walked on.

“I think my mother would like it. She hasn’t seen me for three months; I think it’ll cheer her up.”

“I think turning up home would cheer her up plenty.”

He shrugged. “What? A man can’t buy his mother flowers?”

“I'm just saying…” Mari said it in a quieter voice, as fitting for such meek suggestions. Flowers were only extra flair for things like that.

“You say it like I won't come home. The flowers'll be a surprise.” He walked at a brisk pace, quickly past all the usual tools and hardware. They were almost at the back room but the time Mari found something to answer with.

“She won't expect you this early in the morning either.” she said.

Hero managed a chuckle. “Wouldn't that just sweeten the deal.”

The big shutter door was open at least, letting in the little bit of sunlight there was in a warm, orange haze. Mari could see all the rows of flower boxes, the peripheral sacks of loam and fertilizer, all silhouetted against the snow-covered evergreens. The room has some lights; not all of them were lit though, just a skeleton crew lit on the very corners of the space. Frankly, the rising sun was doing a better job by this point. But what mattered more was the contents of the room, she supposed, no matter how poorly illuminated it was.

Sun or not, lights or not,it was still rather hard to see. She could discern nothing more than the general shape of the flowers, nevermind the colors. It was all shadows for the most part; the shelves cast very long ones, and we're so dark, they were shadows themselves. One of the shadows seemed different though; it moved slowly, but surely, like it was a living thing. Mari figured perhaps it was. She recognized the silhouette, the ribbon that formed a tall ‘v’ on its head.

“Hey, isn't that…” Hero trailed off for a moment before letting out a short hum.

“Better walk up and find out.” she replied. The clack of their footwear echoed around on their approach. The figure seemed surprisingly unaware of their presence, if their continued perusal of the various flowers was any indication. But soon, they were close enough for any doubts to fade away.

“Aubrey.” Hero remarked, almost in deliberate effort at a greeting. The girl yelped with a start, visibly tensing up in surprise.

“Oh! Hero, Mari!” The girl skipped over as quickly as she could— so quickly, she forgot the flowerpot she still had in her hands. “You're back!”

Mari flashed her a small smile. “Not a moment too soon thanks to this guy.” She elbowed Hero playfully. “Trooper drove all night.”

“Hmm, I can tell.” the younger girl skirted over to him, standing on his tiptoes to examine him at eye level. “How are you feeling?”

“How'd you expect.” He rubbed his bleary eyes once more, to some small amusement from the two girls.

Aubrey finally took notice of her hands and scurried back to the shelves in a hurry. “Felt strongly about coming in early?” she chimed on her way back.

“Surprises are nice, aren't they?”

Mari huffed silently to herself, watching the conversation with a keen eye.

Aubrey meanwhile raised a curious brow, amused as it was. “You weren't trying to surprise me, were you?”

He shrugged. “Partially.”

“Along with everyone else?”

“We didn't think we'd run into you here.” Mari walked over to where Aubrey stood. “Flowers too?” She admired the species the younger girl had her eyes on, a tiny little thing with white petals that drooped down into a bell shape. Aubrey seemed rather pleased with it too.

“There's always new flowers for the new season. Basil would get all excited to see the new wares, the new seeds or sprouts he could buy.” The girl crouched to Mari’s eye level to watch the little flower. “The habit’s rubbed off on me I guess.”

The sun seemed to shine through the petals, making it glow a little on the inside. “Such a nice flower.” Mari said in a lower tone, almost to herself.

“Snowdrops, Basil had them planted in his garden two years ago. ‘Thought I might pretty up his bedroom with one.”

“I’m sure he'll like that very much.”

“I hope it cheers him up, Snowdrops stand for new beginnings, hope, like all the other white, winter flowers.”

“Winter turns into spring after all.”

“And a new calendar year.” Hero added.

“Basil said as much.”

Mari hummed. “You don’t think so?”

“It’s hard to be optimistic sometimes.” Flowerpot in hand, Aubrey looked just about ready to leave. In lieu of walking away, and perhaps to be polite, she took continued interest in the flower for as long as Hero took to find his choice bouquet. It didn’t take long before the three of them walked in tandem towards the front room.

“We’re all still here at the end of the day, we can make things better that way.” Mari turned her head to face Hero. “Isn’t that right, Hero?”

The man paused a moment; only his eyes moved. He nodded silently.

“I hope you have better luck than I have.” There was a glimmer of hope shining in the young girl’s eyes, though she had a pursed frown on. They were nearing the open shutter doors now, but Mari could hardly take her eyes off her— they were worried eyes, after all.

“Why, did something happen?”

Chapter Text

“Where are you calling from, Aub? Back again?”

Presumptive questions, she couldn't expect any less from him. “Sounds like you already have some sort of idea of the answer.” Sass, an apt strategy. The response would be swift; she could already hear an audible scoff.

“Good lord, you've already been there the past two days before now.” There was a short pause; Kel seemed to think long and hard for a moment. “Anything new?” he asked. If he was looking for the most efficient question, he had struck some fine gold; the impatience was searingly palpable.

“She’ll be coming home tomorrow.” There wasn't much else she could say to dispel the sentiment he held. Perhaps the only other thing she could say was. “I know.” the palest kind of solidarity.

“That's good, but I was talking about Basil.”

She sighed, Basil was plenty impatient too— understandably so, and drained, sapped of priceless vigor.

“Still… trying to keep an even keel, upset he can't talk to her too much anymore.”

“Why can’t she?”

“She's tired, a lot more so these days.” She swallowed tensely, knocking up against that lump in her throat. “You can't help but look on and worry.”

“I'd stop looking.” There was a terrible sort of resignation in his voice. “What can you do?”

“For her, or for—”

“What do you want to do, Aubrey?”

“Lots of things.”

“Start somewhere.”

The air about had a gentle warmth, Mari could hear the roar of the fire as she lounged about on a nearby easy-chair. She hardly fought the unseen force that sunk her deeper and deeper into the cushions like some sort of quicksand. Her mother stood by, tending to the hearth by throwing in a few more sticks of firewood. “How are you liking home again, dear?” she asked, voice even warmer than the flames she kept alive.

Mari hummed, her tongue seemed stuck, unable to say much of anything for a good while. She shrugged. “Dunno, it’s weird how much three months does to the status quo.”

“A lot from what you're telling me.”

“Does it really sound that bad when I say it?”

“Not at all, I agree.” Her mother had one of her cheeky, knowing smiles on. “Not enough for you to forget where home is, I hope?”

Even she broke a chuckle. “Well, I haven't been gone for too long.”

“Then what's with the glum face? It's the holidays; aren't you excited for the occasion?”

“I’ve just got a lot of things on my mind.”

“Like?”

“Well…” Mari floundered a moment as she tried to balance herself; it was a particular challenge to keep steady over the plush cushions, especially when in deep thought. “Aubrey was telling me about Basil’s grandmother, I’m sure you've heard…”

“Worrisome news, yes I have.”

“It’s not the happiest holiday season.”

“That’s why we count our blessings.”

Blessings, Mari found precious few of them in a very long while. She arched a cautious eyebrow. “And if we don't?” She followed as her mother's gaze rose upwards.

“It keeps us sane— might be the only thing keeping us sane sometimes.” There was a familiar wistfulness in her eyes; Mari often saw it in her own. Such a lovely portrait.

It was an awful shame, really.

“You want a what?” One of those old sayings you'd hear at least once in your life. Aubrey was no stranger to them.

“Hey, what’d I say wrong?” There was no better remedy than to be resolute. “Nothing wrong with a little surprise.”

“And what kind of surprise would that be?” The line crackled; every high inflection came out in a hiss. Aubrey pulled her head back from the receiver in a flinch. For a moment there, her ears rang louder than the telephone.

“Something to help keep his mind off things, you know? It's winter break; there isn't much keeping him occupied from… things.”

Kel didn't seem convinced; calling was starting to feel like a bad idea. “C’mon now, you know Basil better than that. He's done pretty good for himself.”

“Everyone has their limits.”

“Don't tell me you're expecting him to… you know.”

“Break?” The word seemed terribly taboo, a thought too horrible to consider. She barely held on to her composure as she said it. “No. I'm just… afraid.” She knew Kel couldn't see her face, but she hid it all the same, obscuring it with her free hand as she clenched the receiver with the other.

“You know how I feel about it, Aub.” Even Kel audibly paused before saying those words. He wasn't often deliberate with his words.

“And you know how I feel about that.”

“I've put a lot of thought into it.” The line hissed, but Aubrey knew enough to discern the fits of laughter on the other end. “I usually don't with everything else.”

A smile grew on her face, but enough placid ire remained that she groaned with knowing displeasure; she tried to suppress it to no avail. “You always seem to get honest whenever you want me to do something.”

“I think it'd be right to, ‘cause I think you'd be doing right if you hear me out. I don't have it in me to lie about things like that.”

“I hope it's right.”

“I think it is.”

“So you've said. I'd just hate to be wrong.”

“It's only as wrong as the way you go about doing it.”

“Messing up is messing up.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” She could hear Kel's bemused inflection with every word. It settled down in time, lower, calmer. “Just go with your gut, ya can't go wrong with it.” He paused, and continued pointedly. “You know better.”

Know better now, he meant; that was the long and short of it. “So do you.”

“Leave myself to me.” he said, a curious turn of phrase. “I'll leave you to you. That's your problem… for better or worse.”

She shrugged to herself. “We'll have to see about that.”

“Nah, not see. That's a bit too offhand for me. We might as well make things work.”

“God help us.”

“Hmph,” the staccato hum was always a factor in these sorts of things she supposed, “leave it to Him then,” he remarked flatly. “We try our best.”

“That’s about as good as we can do it.”

“Make the most of it then.” Aubrey could almost see him crossing his arms. “I'll see what I can do on my end of things. Mom's keeping me and Hero busy, but I'll get to it soon Enough. That fine with you?”

“That's all I ask.” For once, Aubrey felt total relief.

“You ever visit him from time to time?” The portrait stood tall, hung securely on the wall. The image had faded over the years, but the memories never did.

“Sometimes, when I can.” Mari's mother had a distant look in her eyes, like she could see through walls, like she was staring straight at the little granite stone that marked where Sunny was put to rest. “To be honest, part of me never wanted to make a habit of it, but it's hard to look away on church days, when you're nearest to it.” Without so much as a glance back, she asked, “And you?”

Mari shook her head, ruefully as some might say. “Not since the funeral.” November 3rd, 1996; she remembered it down to the day. “I feel like I ought to have by now.”

“I can't tell you what you ought to and ought not to do. It's a choice you'll have to make. I know it's hard to dredge up the memories.”

“We have to do it sometime.”

“When you feel ready for it.”

“Do you think I'll ever feel ready?” It was always a matter of feelings, she supposed, every human action, every choice they make— every choice she'd ever made.

“Asking that question's a good start, just the once.” She seemed almost like a wise man of old, imparting wisdom in indirect form. “Do that any more and you'll get stuck in a loop, going ‘round and ‘round and never coming undone again.”

“Interesting analogy.”

“The truth leads often to the strangest things. Find it and cherish it.”

“If I can.”

“Don't worry, dear. I know you can.” Faith; it's been in short supply all year. Mari just hoped she could live up to them.

Chapter Text

Walking, it used to be such a calming pastime. Light strolls and such, they amalgamated to what felt like balls and chains, dragging and scraping with every step. Considering where they walked to, Hero wondered what idea Mari had in mind; it didn't seem to bode all that well for her, or for him. It brought out all the worst things, the badness.

What was she thinking? Mari, it only brought him back to older, altogether different times. He could almost see it now…

Mari…

Hero had known her for a very long time, ever since she moved into town with her folks. The usual new neighbor introduction scheme, with all the family in tow; that's when they first met. It was almost a lifetime ago— not quite their whole lives perhaps, but pretty damned close to it. After all that time, there was almost something second nature about seeing her, being with her. She always seemed to be there, and that was a given, somehow. A few sturdy knocks on her door, or vice versa on her end, that's all he ever needed.

Maybe he was excited more than anything, that he struck gold in timing his present social call. The recital was just days away, maybe he could catch them mid-practice today. Frankly, he could be nothing but excited; this close to the big day, only a few halting performance hiccups remained, the concert hall wasn’t far off now. He could imagine the performance all he wanted, but in the meantime, he buried his hands into his pockets; the autumn air was finally getting to him. The chill had a tendency to numb his precious digits, leaving dull fizzles of electricity in the place of any sensation. A terrible thing really, thus the precaution. But a warm house lay just ahead, never far off, his own and Mari's. Both were just as open to him, but the latter was where the action was.

From where he was, he could hear the music, like he usually could when it floated up into his room on sweltering, summer nights.

He could still hear the music now, sometimes. Maybe the church piano was doing some terrible sorcery to him; it sounded over the din, over the ever-present ringing of the steeple bell. He never understood the need for it, all that ringing. “It's Tuesday for crissakes!” he'd say, if he could. But there he was, any word like that out of him, and it'd be blasphemy.

But blasphemy aside, that wasn't what he was here for at all. He knew he'd be back here some day, he had to come back. It was a curious force that burned within him, tugged at him regardless of time or place. It seemed to tug stronger the closer he got to the old church, the same way it would in his dreams— he’d dream about it every so often, somehow, and it’d always go through the same motions, the same routine and pattern.

He was back the next day, taking the short walk from his house to their neighboring one. It was almost painfully easy, so easy that it hardly took much thought; it never did. He made the usual few, sturdy knocks, loud enough to shake the door frame, and soft enough to be marginally polite. It really was the polite thing to do, excessively so perhaps— the Suzuki’s often left their door unlocked, rather blasé all things considered, but he never questioned the thought before. He never had to take those matters in his hands in any case, there was always someone to open the door.

Mrs. Suzuki was always glad to see him; even after all the years he’d paid them visits, she never grew tired of his little mug sheepishly beaming back at her. Mari took after her in that regard, he supposed; he thanked the star truthfully. Good thing, that. The older woman would lead him in and they’d walk inside in tandem, to wherever Mari was in that house of theirs. It was the piano room more often than not, but Hero never complained. The music only grew louder.

The door creaked open, as quickly as he could push it, which wasn’t very fast. It was there, without all the muffling and furnishings that shielded the excess noise, that Hero’s ears truly rang. Preacher was a dabbling musician, a fair player, but hardly consistent, as the man would admit himself. It was a lovely, OMORI brand grand piano, Hero always figured it was similar enough to Mari’s own instrument. The girl in question looked amused enough at the playing; her hands mimed along to the simple tune. It was no waltz, but her hands followed along well enough.

Her eyes seemed transfixed at the piano, locked in and unfocused all at the same time, but her hands followed all the same, as she listened. The notes echoed one by one, pulsing from the stage to where they stood near the main doorway. The piano hushed for the briefest of moments when the preacher looked back at them, but he played on soon enough.

When every note is an instrument, even a simple piece becomes a symphony; Mari was always rather optimistic about the beauty of music. She felt it too, lived it. When she wasn't humming little melodies to herself, she was on the piano, playing all sorts of things. The recital ultimately catered to her tastes in genre, to the waltz. Hands fitted from one section to another, the left hand in that reliable back and forth 1-2-3, and the right hand on the melody. The room would echo; Hero adored the soft ring to it. He knew Mari loved it just as much, even when it was serious practice.

They were practicing at the end of the day, the two siblings. There'd often be a violin in chorus with the ever-present piano. Sunny needed to be there, really; it took two to duet. With the piece they went with, the piano wouldn't be at its best without the violin, nor would the violin be close to its full potential without the piano. One played second fiddle to the other— quite literally too, as it turned out. The younger boy would flank his sister, shuffling around ever so slightly as he held his instrument aloft, playing, concentrating very hard on each and every note. The strain bared a rare nerve in his forehead, coiling just a bit more as he squeezed his eyes shut; passion, Hero thought, in keen anticipation, for that great big day.

For that important event, growing closer with every passing day.

It was an eerie thing, the sound of a piano’s last whimper, that last echo before total silence. The young preacher finally alighted from his spot by the piano, folding his hands together and knitting his brows at them. He looked at Mari first; his expression seemed to soften, and he smiled after a moment’s gaze; then he looked at him. “Henry.” he said, and no more. There wasn't much conversation to be had, apart from any surprise on the preacher’s end on their return from college, banal topics and the like. It wasn't what they came here for— the man seemed to notice this, they were terribly predictable people after all. The church was one of those places, where the doors were open, and the custodians kind. Solace and tranquility.

Tranquility and safe harbor.

Safe harbor and respite.

It was time for Hero to go, he had seen everything. The night was young; there was still much to do, but not here, not now. When the din of evening life finally died down, looking at a clock was almost redundant, it was time to retreat, back to that land of rest and dreams. In any case, there wasn't much left to see, the two were packing up for the long sleep— needed sleep, really. It was the end of the school week, and what of the hours of practice besides; frankly, they needed all the rest they could get. Tomorrow was a big day.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

T̸̗̔ỏ̵̡m̶̞͘o̶͔͆ɿ̸̦̃ɿ̴͎̀o̷̰̒ẅ̷͖.̴̲͂

T̴͎̜̦͓̠̓͂̏̐͝o̵̠͇͎͉͙͆̓̿̏̓m̷̬͈̻͓͎̅͗̆͛̔ǭ̴̪̯̰̃͋͆̕͜ɿ̴̮̻͍̟̬͋̽̒̅͝ɿ̸̨̨̜͍̭́͋̂͒̈́ő̷̫̦̪̬͍̀̋͛͘w̴̨̢̺̖̳̾́́̌̀.̶̬̫̹̣͖͆̈́̀̇̒

A day of music, music he didn’t want to hear again.

But he did.

*ɔ̸͇̽ɿ̷̅ͅɒ̶̨̈́ɔ̵̨̍ʞ̸̹̇!̴̗͑*

Again.

“W̵͔̒ʜ̸̫̉ɒ̸̝̈́Ɉ̸̲̇ ̵̥̀w̴̗͂ɒ̵͔͌ƨ̶̗̚ ̵͔̆Ɉ̵̥͐ʜ̶̬̌ɒ̷̬͌Ɉ̵̡͝ ̶̨̒ǹ̵̬ő̵̺ȋ̷͈ƨ̶̝̉ɘ̶̖̆?̴̖̂”

And again.

“W̶̻͐ʜ̷̻̅ɒ̴̃ͅɈ̵̨̿ ̴̞̌Ɉ̸̞͑ʜ̸̮̕ɘ̷͔͗–̸̡̓”

And again.

“Ƨ̶̻͐ῦ̴̠ǹ̷ͅn̵̺͘γ̷̼̃,̵͇͊ ̶͈̊w̵̤̏ʜ̶̤̀γ̸͎̏’̶̧̒b̸͓̊ ̷̦͊γ̸̤̒o̷͝ͅυ̴̦̊ ̷̭̎ḅ̴̑ò̴̦ ̶̹͌Ɉ̴̳͝ʜ̴̤̇ɒ̷̻̎Ɉ̸̗͛!̶͈̀?̷̛̬”

He was sick of it all.

“I̵̳͖͊̈̊͜ ̴̳̭̤͛̍̕ɔ̵͔̥̜̐̃̃ɒ̵̮̹͉̎͛̐n̴̳̰̅̇̎ͅ’̴̨̹̝͊͋̒Ɉ̶̢̧̯̀́̌ ̵̖͍̰̾̌̑d̴̫̫̓̎̋͜ɘ̵̙͕̯̾̉̊l̴͍̹͉̑̋̍i̷̼̘͎̇͒́ɘ̷̛̺͙̟͆͗v̸̦͈͉́̈́͗ɘ̶̡͍̝͌̔̅ ̵̛͕̺̰̊͠γ̴̡̛͎̫̈͊ơ̵̟̻̩͂́υ̶̹̞͖̏͆̽’̴̪̣̺͛̑̆b̷̨̪̯͆̂̂ ̴̨͈̦͊̄̀Ɉ̸͕͉͇̀͘̚ʜ̵̙̞̼̍̍͋ɿ̵̢̨͉̈́͗͝õ̶͔̣͌́ͅw̷̡̲͇̉̀͘ ̷̬͙̠̎́̈́ɒ̴̧̰̹̐̌̿l̴̹͓̝̅͑͆l̸͕̰͍̔̓̍ ̶͈̙̲͊̀͆o̵̰̣̟͊̑̍υ̴̢̯̲̌͛̕ɿ̶̛̜̤̽͑͜ ̴̺̘͔̆́̚ẅ̷͍̞̱́̊̎o̶͓͉̟͊͂̽ɿ̶̝̝̘̄̒͆ʞ̴̧̗͎͒́̀ ̶͈͎̉͋̅ͅɒ̸̟͍̝͐̔̎ẅ̴̖̥̪́͐̚ɒ̸̩̤̙̊͒͐γ̶̗͈͎̂͌̅!̶̨̙̗̈́̎̿!̷̨̦̩̐̈́̓!̶̰̦̽̽͂ͅ”

There would be an end.

It had to stop.

Some way.

Somehow.

“....October 26, 1996. The nights are colder in his absence.” And it was cold; winter nights often were, and it was especially so. Had he not donned gloves, he would've felt the silent tingle of frostbite long ago. Even so, still he made futile attempts to rub his palms against each other, like the act would give him any more warmth. It was so cold, it threatened to consume him whole; he wasn’t going to let it.

Mari stood next to him, silently gazing upon what looked to be a dormant plant. He'd never seen it before. Was it always there? “Egret orchid.” she said simply. There was something oddly, deeply familiar about it.

He rubbed his palms ruefully, the gloves weren’t doing him much good for instant comfort. “How can you tell?”

“Flowers arrangement classes I took, mom too.” She knelt down next to it and gingerly held the stem in one hand. “Sunny's casket was full of them.” She paused. “This one was Basil's.”

It was fitting, perhaps; Hero should have figured as much. Frankly, he should’ve remembered that— one of the few things he ought to have remembered. He watched as Mari stood herself back up, knees trembling at the sudden burst of effort. “Do you go here often?” he found himself asking. He always thought he had a good eye on where she usually went, but he wasn’t so sure now.

“About as often as you have, as far as I can tell.” She shrugged. “...which isn’t much. I should change that.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” A common word of comfort— or so it should be. He wasn’t so sure about that either. The longer he stood there, and stared…

“All the better; I hope it helps with something. It’s all I can really do.”

The darkness swirled something fierce sometimes; at this time of night, not to mention everything else, shadows had a way of peering deep inside. The terrible nip and sting of the cold didn’t help matters.

“... make up for lost time, I guess.” Mari added, trying in vain to connect the thought like it was some rushed run-on. Hero could see her breath as she spoke, a thick cloud of dense condensation. He wondered how she could endure all this chill.

“But–”

“It’s late for that, I know. Don’t need to say it to my face.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh please, Hero.”

“Oh please what?” He narrowed his eyes, watching, staring for any flash of emotion. The look in her eyes felt much the same to his own, steely gaze— both of them, plumbing the other for their true feelings. The silence was deafening, like it had a gaze of its own, pushing and prodding them to fight back, and speak.

The chill got to him from all sides, all angles: snowflakes from above, the icy breeze to his flank, and the crush of fallen snow by his feet, digging their way through the gap of his pant-hem, nipping his ankles like little shocks of electricity. Mari threw chill of her own; though a softness carried through, she hardly looked amused.

“Is this another… talk?” he asked.

“I don’t mean it to be, but…”

Something about that answer, and the lengthy trail-off, got a chuckle out of him. “Is that the honest truth?”

“There is no other type of truth, isn’t there?” she said dryly.

“H̴̠͕͑̈́ɘ̴̱͔̔̅γ̵̝͉͐͐!̵̧̹͗̾ ̸̰̬̄͗⅃̵̨̍͊͜ȏ̸̞͇̈́ȯ̸̟͝ͅʞ̸̢̞͛̓ ̴̤̤̈́̐ɒ̶̱͔̀̅Ɉ̶̫̙̇̕ ̷͔̪̎̃m̴̗̭̓̊ɘ̵̞̝̌͗ ̸̨̪̆͝w̸̦̲̓̇ʜ̵̙̻͛̈́ɘ̸͎͎̑̃n̶̜̏͜͠ ̵͎̬̅̚I̷̙̙̍̂’̷͎̫̄̓m̸̞̉͘͜ ̵͍̜̑͝ƨ̶̘͔̈́̔q̴̦̲̾̌ɘ̷̨̬̿͂ɒ̸̭̼͊͘ʞ̷̡̘̓͝i̷͍̘͒̃n̵̖͕͌̕ϱ̶̡̳̃͠ ̷̙̓̅͜Ɉ̸̳̿̓ͅố̶̖̪ ̷̨̣̽͂γ̶̗̭̀͆ò̶̢̬̎ύ̵͓̲̀!̸͖̪̾͆ ̵̢̖͂͋T̵̪̙̕͝ʜ̶̤̠͆͝i̷̼͔͊͑ƨ̶͇͛̇͜ ̸̰̦͘͝i̸̦̻͒̀ƨ̷̭̬̀͠ ̴͎͒͜͠ḭ̴͎̐̾m̷͔̓͌͜q̷̜͈̾͘ó̵͙̠͂ɿ̷̫̹̈́̚Ɉ̶͙̪͛̐ɒ̷̖̄͛ͅn̵̝̾̇ͅɈ̷͉͇̂̎!̶̞̄̄͜”

It was that again, that terrible squeeze. Pain radiating from within, he didn’t like it— dreaded it really. Breathe, Hero; it was all he kept his mind to; that, and keeping an even keel. Falling over would be… unideal.

“A̸̤̯̍͒ɿ̴̟̬̈́̃ɘ̶͉̮̓̇ ̴͇̤̃͛γ̵͓̈́̃ͅo̴̥̠͋̓υ̵̝̬̎̿ ̴̢̈́͑͜l̸͓̼̂̕ḯ̶̫͎̅ƨ̶̨͔̂̐Ɉ̵͚͎̋̂ɘ̴͙̺̀͛ņ̷̬̋̆i̴̛͓̳͐n̸͈͓͆͛ϱ̵̖͉̑̏ ̵̼̖̋̇Ɉ̷͚̟̋́o̴̖͉͐̓ ̶̘̥́̔m̷̢̼̂́ɘ̸̲̯͛͒,̸͈̱̌͂ ̴̛̼̤͑Ƨ̸̩̩̎̀υ̷̩̩͑̾n̶͕̬̆͌n̵̢̰͊̈́γ̵͎͈̈͂?̵̡̞͛̽”

Breathe, just breathe. The shadows, they were everywhere. From the periphery in, it crawled closer and closer. “I try not to think about it, Mari.” he finally managed.

“But we have to, don’t we? At least, I have to.”

“W̵̨̟͑͛ʜ̸̙̐̅ͅɘ̷̫͈̌͒ɿ̶̢̹̏̌ɘ̴͎͈͂̉ ̸̲̰̽̈́ɒ̸̢̹̀͌ɿ̸̮̹̉͌ɘ̸̢͖̽̒ ̵̞͚̊̎γ̷̼͚̓͝ô̶̞͖̍υ̸͚͍̉̈́ ̵̮̰͑̅ϱ̴̧̯̓̍o̸̟̪̽̾i̵͈͔̋̆n̸̥̫̈́̈́ϱ̴̖̭͑͝?̴̝͇̀̕!̵̧̮̓̈ ̸̢̬̃̏I̸̠͉̊̈́’̸͚̳̋͝m̷̻̬̆̕ ̸̧͚̓̍n̸̙̲͛̉ő̴̥̭̚Ɉ̸͖̗̌͗ ̵͈̱̓̈́b̷̤͇̀͘ö̴̮͇́n̸̘̲̄̉ɘ̷̺̦̌̓ ̵̻͕̀̅Ɉ̶̭͕͂̽ɒ̵̯̱͐͠l̸̬̫͊͝ʞ̴̢̜̀͊i̶̧̝̐̊n̷̡̤͊̓ϱ̸̫̤̓̀ ̸̹̞̀́w̵͚̣͗̓i̶͔͛͂͜Ɉ̴̙̩͋̒ʜ̵̛̏͜ͅ ̷̯͈̃̃γ̷̢͖̐̌o̵̲̺͂͠ΰ̵͇̪͝ ̴͈̤͒̈γ̷͚͙̈͝ɘ̸̢̇͐͜Ɉ̷͓̲͐́!̸͖̞͛̊”

Hero could feel the snow beneath him shifting, coiling underfoot, like the ground itself was moving. He braced his legs to keep them from buckling. “It’s not your burden to bear. I thought we were in this together.”

Mari smiled almost sadly at the thought; her face had the faintest glimmer of vivacity.

“Ɔ̸͍̙͑́o̸̦̱͆̈́m̶̢̜͋̕ɘ̶̣͂̈́ͅ ̸̲͇̀̈́d̴̡͔͒́ɒ̴̮̻̅̿ɔ̷̧̥̒́ʞ̴̹̤͌͐ ̴̛͙͍́ʜ̷̖̣͋̕ɘ̷͓̠̏́ɿ̸͔̻͋̌ɘ̸̡͕̉͒,̸͚̮̓͝ ̸̢̖̈́͝w̶̤͉͆͆ɒ̶̦̜͆̕į̵̭̂̀Ɉ̸̤̍̎͜!̴̡̺̇̏!̸̞̘̈́͠”

“You don’t seriously believe…” he trailed off. He’d forgotten many things in his life, but he never forgot that day. “There’s no-” he stuttered again. “How much do you remember?”

Á̶̩̘̈ṇ̴̈́̌ͅb̸͈̝͆́ ̵̼͙͂͋Ɉ̸̦̲̒̿ʜ̸̮̬͌͆ɘ̶̞̣̐̚ ̶̤̻̓̏d̵̙̲̂͘o̷̗͕͑̍γ̴̳̪̂͝ ̷̡̯͝͠w̷̧̦̄́ɘ̴̭͈̀̕n̶̗͕̈͒Ɉ̴̞̝̇̓ ̶̞̥͐̃b̸̦̞́̈́ǫ̷̛̠̐w̴̳͖̍̿n̸̞̪͆̃

Ⴇ̵̧̂o̶̰͆w̴̪̏n̸̰̆

Ⴇ̵̢̞̻̍̔̃o̵̮̘̘͐̋̂w̵̨̡̙͂̀͘n̴̞̱͕̓̽̈́

Ⴇ̷͓̙̬̥͔́̓̎́͝o̷͙̯̞͉̔͗̃̒͆͜w̸͇̥̩̥̗͋̉̓̈́͝n̸̢̢̘̙̈̈́͌̽͑͜

Ⴇ̸̢̤̫̫̮̭͇̌̏̃̊̐̾̐o̴̥͙͇͓̲̝͔̍̈̄͊̈̀̇w̵̯͙̞͍̭͇̆͋̌́̉̚͘ͅn̸͎̹̬̬̦͎͒̽͑̇̍͠͠ͅ

Ⴇ̴͈̩͎̭̭̲͇̤̤̌͊́̐͒̀͌̔͘o̶̢͈͕͙̬̫͓̟͆̈́͑̄̅̋̃́͜͠w̴͚̫̯̦̩̭̟̩̌̂̓̇͒̾̚̕͜͠n̵̡͔̲̦̗̹̹̰̰̂́̂̉͛͝͝͝͝

Ⴇ̴̡͎̗̗͉̹̝̬̩͖͇̆̌̿̇́͌͋̈́͊́̚̚o̶̡͙̙̻͇̟̙̞̞̺͕̾̅̇͒̆́͐͆̌̒͝͠w̴͕͎͉̞̙̠̟̺͇͔̟͕̒̾̓́̉̈̒̆̒͗͋ṇ̷̢̛̺͙̦̭̥̦̘̫̱͂̂̀͗͗̑́͆͘͘

Ⴇ̷̢̳̙̙̝͎͇̻͉͎̻̝̈́̇͒̔̇̿́͐̏̋͂̎͛̑̕͜ͅő̸̡͙̤͕̲̭͓̘͖̱̹͇͎͔͈͆̂̆̽̐̉̆̃͊̈́̚̕̕ẁ̷̼͍̼̤͎̺̲̻̥̙͎͕̰̖̪́͆͆́͌̋͑̔͊́̎́͘͘ͅn̷̡̠̟͙̘̰̞͇̮̜̝̩͍̣͔̓̐͂̓̇͑̓̐̔̈́̃̇̏̂͠ͅ

“I remember enough.”

Hero shook his head, ruefully, with a terrible look on his face. “I… I dunno about that.” The cold was finally getting to him; he couldn’t take much more. “I better go.”

“Wha-... Where to?” Something in Mari’s face seemed to pale, aghast for a moment, softening her expression soon enough.

“Home, if that’s alright.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Hero hardly heard the question as he slowly backed up, his heels taking the brunt of his weight, soon the church would be a distant memory. He needed to be elsewhere; he’d be better off elsewhere. Someplace slower, where things didn’t move quite so fast.

Yes, wouldn’t that be nice?

Nice.

Very nice.

“Hero?”

For now.

A quick little break.

Just a smidge.

“Hey… I mean-”

“A rest, Mari. Just a rest.”

“Ẃ̵͉͔̬͖͆̋͂͘ͅḣ̴̹̬͖͈͍̈́̀̿̀å̵͉̤̮̭̹̀͒̈́̈͂†̴̮̞͇̲̲̅͒͋̌͝,̶̱̰̤͓̈́̓̊̊͜͠ ̷̛̩͕̻̭͔̅̆̈́͝ñ̸̮̤͕̯̝͋̅̓͑͛ð̷̙̠̟̙̱́̀̓͘̚…̴̙͕͖̫̪̄̄̎̚͝ ̵̨̥̥̹͖̆̀̽̃̆ñ̷̨̤̜̱̥̓͒̈́͝͠Ö̶͍̹̺͉͓͒̌͊͊̕!̵̢͙͚͙̩̿̎̂̕͘”

“ñ̵̥͕̹̹͉̐̽̓͋̕ð̴̳͖͈͇̞͆̃̊͐̚ñ̶͚͎̺̩́͊̎̈͌͜ð̶̞̥̪̫̖̓͛̒̚͝ñ̷̨̡͉̥͇̿̎͂̉̅ð̶̮̤̺̠̪͆̒̇̕͠ṇ̵̝̜̟̭̃̆̓̒͗̕ð̷̰̥͎͖̖̎̏͐̚͝ṋ̴͉̭̲͖̃̓̍̓͗̚ð̸̨͎̰̜̯͛͆̄͑̌ñ̴̡̲̰̗͈̃͋͊̕͘ð̸͓̬͙̰̖͛̓̕͠͝ñ̸͚͈̞̘̙̾͗̆̀́ð̷͈̤͇̟̐͊̐̇͛ͅñ̴̨͈̮͉̪͛͆̒̕͝ð̴̟̠̲͇͎̄̽̾͊͠ñ̵̤̖̫̳̦̐̈́̂̀͝ð̴̙͔͔̦̓̋̓͒̈́͜ñ̶̮͇̯͙͍́̿̓̉̌ð̵̨̠̝̩̬͊͊̑͆͘ñ̶̨̢̘̙̱̆̈̋͋͐ð̴̢̢̗͖̙̅̏̓̾̎ñ̶͙̖͍̫̳̆̓̑̄̚ð̸̰͍̙̹͍̾̎͗̚̚ñ̵̛̫̦̯̪͔͑̈̍͠ñ̶̬͎̹̳̈̀̃͑͘ͅð̴̨̲̞̝̭̍̋̓̔̊ñ̵͖̙̣͈͉̊͑̓̌̔ð̴̧̹̭̫̞̌̀̐̒͋”

“§̶̛̘̖̫̖̖̈̀̒̆µ̴̧̛͓̻͖̱̀̈̓̑ñ̶̨̗̠̞̟̅̈̐̄͐ñ̴͎̳̖̩̥̉̏̈́͒̚¥̷̘̪̺̠̟̍̈̂̒͝,̷̲̻̲͎͎͑̈́́͝ ̶̢̼̺̣͑̀̐̅͝ͅẁ̴̱̫̦̜̑̃̒̆͜å̷̢̻̤̻͖̋̄̓̎͋k̴̮̺͎̞͊̅͂́͜͝ê̶̱̤͈̙̜̍̏́͑̓ ̶̛̥̼̟͙̘̆̃͒̐µ̵̠̖͇̞̗́͗̐́̊þ̵̛̥̩̼̪̬͑̍̍̕.̸̹͉̤̞̥͊̆̌̄̔ ̴͎̮̗̊͑̈́͊͜͜͝þ̴̡͙̼̫̭͒̈́̅̅͠l̴̰̗͙͍̰̊̀̄̔̚ê̴̗̬͚̫̑̃̌͒͌ͅå̵̗̝̖̤͔͛̋̈́̂̎§̸͎͍̪̲̓̓̐͐̿ͅê̸̪̰̰͓̤͗̎̎͛̒ ̶͎̞̣͈̼̈́̇͊͠w̵͎̫̥̬͂̉̈́̓͊ͅå̷̘͖̩̝̲̏̆̓̄̈́k̵̡̗͔͔͈͒̉̓͘͘ê̵͉̹͔͉͒̀̒̆͛ͅ ̴̡̬̟͍̤̓͂̊̈́͠µ̸̣͇̠̣̠̓͋͋̀͝þ̸̣̘͇̝͇̑̔͊̾͝!̴͇̹̱͗̽̎̓̚ͅͅ”

“W̷̙͍͚̥̍̈́͛̈̋ͅÄ̷̢̨̡̛̠̘̑͒̀̕Ķ̶̳̖͇̺͛͌́̐͆È̴͇̯̟̤̽̑̄͆͜͝ ̵̛̠̫͔̲̰̄̏̀̕Ú̴̫͎͙̪͕̉̋́͘͝þ̷̙̼͎̙̑͌̉̈́̇͜”

Chapter Text

A worn, yellowed letter, with a now-crinkled pink sticker holding it all together. Aubrey could hear it rustling under her grasp. “When did you say this was written again?” she remembered asking.

“Can’t say really,” Kel rubbed the back of his head in his usual sheepish way. He went on, “the date he wanted to send it was easy enough though, no?”

She sighed. “There’s no chance of figuring out that other thing then?”

“Does it matter?”

“Sure it does, timing matters.”

One smooth motion was all it took to pull the letter out and fold it open; she couldn't help but read it one more time.

“He still wrote a date after the fact,” said Kel. “Whatever the timing was, he was thinking about it till the day he went.” It wasn't the most comforting thought. Aubrey hummed in response.

Many weeks had passed since that conversation, back when the leaves were just starting to turn orange. But things weren't much different from then to where she found herself now, lounging idly in bed on a frightfully cold Thursday morning. Only her eyes peeked over her blanket, which she secured firmly around her, leaving no gaps for the draft to seep in. “That ought to do it.” she said, quietly to herself.

A meager brunch was all that stood in the way of her disagreeable stomach, and the pangs. Some time in bed would do her good— something to pass the time. Just a little more, and dinner would be in the works, and Polly always made more than she ought to. Maybe an hour longer, that was just about enough time.

Sleep was taking much longer than she would've liked, and looking around wasn't much of an option— there wasn’t anything to look at, nothing of note. Roof, wall, Bunbun’s cage, side table, and the bucket in the corner; shifting gaze every few seconds, it was getting awfully dull. The window Kel once pushed into— remarkable for a second-story window— was shut tight today, naturally, though the wind found other avenues. It whistled through the hole in her ceiling; she responded in kind, though she never did get the basics of melodic whistling.

Back to looking around, it was a shame really, all that darting back and forth; she could hardly look at the one thing that mattered most to her. Neatly slotted in her desk drawer, it lay just out of sight, and out of reach. It sat much closer once, but she resolved to keep it where it was hard to roll and snatch at a moment’s notice. Better that than to pain over every new crease on the worn stationery. As a remedy, she closed her eyes, and there it appeared, warbled for lack of clarity, but there. Each word jumped out of their pages, and played their way into the pits of her ears, all in his voice.

Sometimes, she wondered why he never said anything sooner; it was a stupid thought, really, and she corrected herself just as quickly as the muse first came to her. Quiet boy like that, the letter really was a leap of bravery. Even as the intended recipient, it was hard to shake the feeling that reading it was almost wrong, the feeling of being no more than a common burglar, trespassing where she ought not to be. Surely Sunny couldn’t have felt the same way after all these years, had he lived, or otherwise. Aubrey was looking around again; she was looking up.

“Why couldn’t you just smite me as soon as I broke the seal?” Under the blanket, she puffed a signature wide pout, flushing under the warmth. “It'd make things a lot easier for me.” Appeal to emotion was a strategy, wasn't it? She went on.

“I hope you're smiling up there, happy.” Self satisfied with the thought for only a moment, she quickly added, with some lay deadpan. “The peaceful kind of happiness, not amused-with-Aubrey's-misfortune kind of happiness.” Sunny wasn't much for that though, bless his heart.

There was some idle conversation to be had, one sided as it might've been. In temporary lieu of kneeling by that stately granite headstone, staring straight up through the little sky hole was a welcome, albeit lazy, alternative. There she remained even as the buffet of the winds slowly drained to a whisper, quiet enough that the ambiance of the rustling trees came to the forefront; the sound of all the rest followed close behind.

The sound of birds was a definite surprise. Traveling so soon after all that chaos outside, with feathers all covered in snow— they were purposeful little creatures, with places to be. She could hear their scattered coo’s, and the abrupt flutter of their wings as they shot skyward. A gray smudge appeared on her window where one curious pigeon landed, no doubt seeking some refuge from the idle snowfall that continued outside. It sat for just a moment, absentmindedly tapping on the glass in a brief forage for food, before flying off.

Aubrey found a small smile creeping up her face. There was no stopping that little bird from going where it needed to go. Maybe it was fine time for her to do the same.

The door shot open with a definitive thump, Hero hardly noticed the cold air that quickly blew around him. He clattered down the steps to the sidewalk, muttering all the way, “She forgot. How could she forget?” There was a lump growing in his throat, and he swallowed in vain to curb the increasing discomfort. Walking away like this didn’t feel right, it was a shame, really. He used to like walking, putting one foot in front of the other, like some automaton. It came so naturally to him that he didn't have to pay much mind to it; it was once a blessing to have that freedom to dwell on other things, like thoughts— musing. He liked musing. This was hardly musing though.

Mari was somewhere off behind him, back inside; somehow, he could still hear her confused inquiries, calling out for him to come back. The crunch of his boots against the ground sounded much like a ticking clock, getting louder with each step away; he wondered for a moment if the cries were even real, or if they were just a figment of his imagination. She was out of sight, and he was out of the door— that was out of earshot, surely, some echo in his head after all.

A quick break, that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Looking down, walking off, it was an odd feeling. The weather was a bane, and the snow did his feet no good, making them feel equal parts heavy and light: the former from lifting them up, and the latter, remarkably, in dragging them across, up and not quite over, the loose snowfall. He wasn’t halfway across the block yet, the intersection still loomed ahead, but his legs burned. Where he’d go from there, he wondered to himself if he’d figure that out before he arrived.

Remembering and forgetting, and who remembered this and forgot that— that wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on, or the great big mountain he wanted to discuss. There was no point in it, no point at all.

Aubrey dressed up as best she could, layering up to beat back the winter chill. Even so, she could see every puff of breath billowing up as she descended the ladder to the ground floor of her home. The television crackled and hummed in the other room: her mother must've paid the bill for once; she could see her sitting in her usual spot, watching noiselessly, without a care in the world. Frankly, there wasn't much more she was good for besides staring down the television and locking the front door at night. Aubrey left her to her devices more often than not, so long as she did her the same, which she unwittingly often did. The girl grabbed a few things on the kitchen counter before leaving, the few clean things in the counter at least, her jacket and a flashlight should she return home late. She took a cursory look around, gingerly poking her head outside, before exiting.

It wasn't as bad outside as she thought, there were some snowflakes around, but nothing so bad as to stop her from traveling. The streets had been cleared of snow that morning, but the new cold front ensured a new layer settled by the time she got out. There weren't too many cars and people around besides herself, none she cared about anyways— with one exception, walking in from the right: Hero.

Of all the people she expected to be out and about in this kind of weather, Hero wasn't even on that list. He trudged on through, slowly, carefully. His mind was evidently elsewhere, and distracted him most terribly. Whatever it was, it was no good, if the morose look he wore was any indication. That, or the way his brows knitted tightly together with every step through the loose snow. He payed no heed to Aubrey's presence, even as he drew closer and closer.

To that end, she endeavored to make herself at least a tad more visible. She was already halfway through her lawn by then, so she sprinted ahead, only stopping right where the cobbled path met the sidewalk.

She leaned forward to wave at him, asking “Hey, are you alright?” It wasn't often she got to say things like that to him. She put on a nice smile, something Mari would sport in times like these. If anything was going to make Hero talk, that would, surely.

“Could be worse,” he said, never faltering in his step, adding, “I assume you're not asking about the snow?” Behind the deadpan delivery, he looked almost worried. Aubrey suppressed a frown at the sight, and hardened the plaster smile on her face. He could only be worried about one thing— walking back from that particular direction.

She leaned back up and spun on her heels, snow crunching underfoot, to face him. “Had a nice talk?” she confirmed in an off-handed yes.

Hero frowned, knitting his brows together once more. He'd opened his mouth to speak, but held his tongue until something more, evidently, appropriate came out. “As nice as it can be for a…” he trailed off, “a headstone. It doesn't feel real.” He seemed to slip down into a world of his own for a brief moment, zoning off as his gaze slowly shifted down to his shoes. Then came a blink, then two, till the vigor shot back up in his eyes. “Sorry, I'm just… thinking.”

It was hard seeing Hero like that, Aubrey was quick to placate. “No no, I know the feeling. Kept me from going the first few times, I didn't know what to say, or if anyone was even listening. I was worried about it for a long time. I dunno.” She shook her head, embarrassed for rambling on as she did, and took a few steps back so she could see Hero in full. “But you get used to it, you kinda have to.”

A mirthless smile slowly formed on Hero's face. It was never good when one of those appeared. “That's easy to say, isn't it? It's not easy to do.” He paused to steady himself. “I was there, I can't… convince myself to see anything else.”

“Basil said the same thing.”

“He wasn't supposed to see that. I should've stopped him from looking. I should've...” his gaze hardened, then softened quickly, “protected him.”

“You can't carry that burden alone, Hero. It's not your fault. You had Mari to worry about, Basil told me about that too. I saw you two at the hospital, when it was all…”

“Over?” Hero flinched as soon as the words left his lips. “No! No, no– not…”

“When that doctor walked up, wasn't it… over?”

“Sometimes I just want to forget, but the details just stick,” Hero muttered in a low tone, “and burn in.” He shook his head and took a few tentative steps past Aubrey. “And when it burns, it stays.”

“You sound sure about that.”

“I am. What's a man to do?”

“Enjoy the happiness you do get, whatever that is.”

He raised a curious brow, that was a good sign, wasn't it? “You follow that advice?” he asked.

“I do.”

He shook his head dismissively. “Where are you going today?” he asked, perhaps to move on to better topics, maybe better places.

“Basil's place, wanna come with?” she asked tentatively.

And Hero smiled, just a small smile, just this once. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

“Hi, Hero!”

October 26th, 1996: it was a very long time ago now, upwards of three years, and counting. After all the time that's passed, when the scourge of its passing wreaked havoc upon the careful details of all that happened then. when everything turned into a veritable blur, devoid of all color and feeling, Hero wondered time and time again why certain things stuck around; they camped deep into his subconscious almost.

“What are you doing here, Hero? I thought you were still out of the neighborhood until later.”

He remembered spinning around, looking for the source of the unexpected noise. Basil always had a rooted curiosity; he never felt shy asking questions in spite of his social reservations.

It was only a few hours to the recital then, he recalled, though the flower boy stood there in casual wear, his usual collared shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts. Hero couldn't quite explain why the detail stood out to him— like he was one to talk, in casual wear himself when it all happened.

Of course, he wasn't quite on the same course now as he was then. Snapping out of his reverie briefly, Hero quickly looked around to regain his bearings. The familiar green roof of Basil's house loomed overhead, though it found itself covered from all angles in thick layers of snow. He kept his head to the ground and walked on.

It was supposed to be a quick visit, his little trip to Mari’s house. A final ten minute opportunity to see the pair in action before the recital proper. All it took was a brief walk, and he liked walking.

His mind shifted back to the present. The girl in front of him was chipper as always; Aubrey swung her arms in tandem with the little skips she made over the loose snowfall. With an attitude like that, she was always a blessed bright spot, even in the dark days following the recital. He saw her often on the pews, sitting quietly and paying rapt attention to the preacher; and later still, he heard often from Kel the details of her many visits to Basil’s house. Sometimes, he wondered what she prayed about, whenever her head was solemnly bowed down. What were the hopes and dreams of a girl her age, in a time like this? He didn’t dare ask.

Aubrey bounded up Basil’s porch steps and gave two sharp knocks on the door; it opened as soon as he caught up to her. Hero wasn’t too familiar with the woman who answered, Mrs. Mendel’s nurse if he remembered right. Her name was Polly, wasn’t it? “You’re here early.” she remarked to the two of them, though her eyes laid squarely on Aubrey.

“Early bird gets the worm.” Aubrey quipped. She chuckled in jest as she peeked inside.

Polly noticed her gaze and responded in kind. “No worms yet, I’m afraid. Won’t be for another hour.” The smile on her face evened out as she remarked with no small measure of regret, “Wow, that didn’t sound right at all.” It seemed all three of them found the humor in it; even Hero found himself suppressing a snort.

“I’ve heard worse.” Aubrey said in a flat deadpan. She sniffed the air that wafted from inside the house; Hero could smell it too. “What’s cookin’, Polly?” they both asked in tandem— Aubrey, understandably; Hero, in spite of himself.

“Oh, you noticed!” Polly brought a quick hand up to rub the underside of her chin, “though then again, why wouldn’t you…” she mused aloud, interjecting her previous train of thought. She backed up to allow them space to enter as she continued. “I’m trying something new here. I thought it was an awful shame that we hardly use the crock-pot, so I’m fixing that now with a few pounds of beef slowly melting in it.” She rubbed her hands with some definite pride. “You know, to spice things up for a change. I can’t use the Christmas ham just yet.” she added with an amused chuckle.

Christmas, Hero managed a surprised hum, that was only in a few days now. Good thing he had all his presents all ready for giving. He wondered if it was going to be a quiet Christmas this year; it was better to keep his fingers crossed in any case.

After the cursory look-around, Aubrey had a rather confused look on her face. “Where’s Basil?” she asked, almost like a detective asking some major inquiry. “Is he in the back with his grandma?”

Polly smiled and shook her head. “Oh no, he went out for a walk.”

“Where to?”

Polly once more made use of her hand to tap, this time the side of her cheek. “I think he went to his friend Mari’s house for a visit.”

“Mari?” It was Hero turn to speak, and wonder silently to himself. “In this cold?”

Basil was never one for the winter, those cold months when all the plants would curl up for their long rest. It was always a rather harsh period, he thought, when even the winds cut like a thousand little knives. It hurt to look around as the drifts swirled around him. For mild weather, as those meteorologists would dryly declare, there was hardly anything mild about it.

But, the risked damage to his eyes was not without reason. Basil could just about see Kel’s house in the distance, and, if his vision wasn’t failing him in this instance,there too was the man himself. His old friend’s unruly brown hair cast a prominent silhouette in that sea of white; if it was anything other than Kel, he’d be rightly embarrassed. The silhouette, thankfully, spoke to his great relief.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be back at home?” The boy bared a small, toothy grin. Kel was quick to lower his head to shield it somewhat from the sting of snowflakes; he squinted to steady his vision.

Basil didn’t quite know how to answer, walking sounded like such a good idea when he stepped out. The air was crisp to be sure, but the snowfall wasn’t letting up. He nodded his head all the same; frankly, it was harder to falter and wither away from the choice— and walk back home after the effort it took getting there— than to double down and run with it, as grating as it was to admit. “It should be alright.” he said.

His friend looked on with some surprise. “You’ve been worried in the past whenever I’d drag you around.” With a brief hum, he added, “anything new?”

Basil shrugged. “Just feeling more secure today.” He balled up one fist and drove it into his outstretched other in some rudimentary show of resolve. Despite all his hesitancy before, this new offhanded confidence was no coincidence, Basil thought long and hard about this matter before he even stepped foot outside his door. “Polly has the home front covered.” he mumbled, in the style of all the adventurous novels he enjoyed on lazy summer days.

“And your grandma?”

Basil pressed his lips down tightly in a small frown. “Asleep, for now. She’s still recovering after all.”

Kel shook his head sympathetically. “You need rest too, you know?”

“And I will, the week isn't over yet. And we have another week besides.”

“Sounds like something I'd say,” his friend remarked, “but wordier.”

It was Basil's turn to grin. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“A friend would say it's not bad at all.” said Kel. “Luckily for you, I'm a friend.”

“Procrastinating just delays things, doesn't it?”

“Sometimes for good reason.”

“But avoiding things now would be a waste, after all we've been through.” He took a few steps forward, deep in thought.

“Definitely seems like it.” Kel nodded as he stuck his hands into his jacket pockets.

Basil's grin slowly gave way to a hearty chuckle. “Why are you sounding so unsure for? You're the one who called me here.”

“Dunno, I'm just wrapping my head around some stuff. I can't help but see how we were way back when.”

“You mean the way I was?” Basil brought a hand up to wave away the thick cloud of Kel's subsequent, lengthy sigh.

“I remember walking to your house, and sitting there sometimes, alone. It sticks with you, you know?” Kel's eyes seemed to grow sharp for a moment, before softening back.

“You had company,” Basil began to say, “grandma, Aubrey.”

“You think Aubrey paid me any attention?” Kel scoffed mirthlessly. “She was always sitting by your bedroom door,” he shrugged, “or the bathroom door if you ran there.”

“I'm not proud of it, if that's what you're getting at.”

“Proud of what?”

“Hiding.” Basil spit the word out like the venom it was. “I made a mess of things doing that.” Aubrey had told him all about it, how worried she was— how worried everyone else was. “Just one little thing like that…” he trailed off.

“You’re changing the subject,” Kel shrugged defeatedly. “...which I’ll ignore, for now. What I really want to say is that it wasn’t your fault, or anyone else's. It's just the cards we're dealt. We do what we can with them, good or bad.”

Basil found some amusement in his words. “You were never good at cards,” he remarked.

“Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?” There Kel was again, with that determined grin on his face. Basil could scarcely believe he was looking all morose mere minutes before. “Come on,” he arced his head to the streets ahead, “I didn't call you here just to stand around.”

Basil rolled his eyes at his friend's gumption. “Couldn't you be satisfied with digging through their broom closet?”

“I could drag you there again if you really want me to.” Kel quipped dryly. “Besides, we're going for the treehouse. You get that mixed up or something?”

“I’m just asking.”

Kel looked surprised. “What for? We helped build the thing, and we own most of the stuff in it.” He pointed off to the distance with his right hand— to the house just next door really, naturally. “We’re just walking down memory lane.”

“I doubt it'll feel the same as it did back then.”

Kel simply laughed knowingly, and soon, he did too. It was a moment they shared, being on similar wavelengths for the briefest instance. “You ever get used to that feeling yet?” he asked.

Chapter Text

Kel couldn't help but shiver as he walked. Though the winds had died down since their onslaught a few hours ago, the snowfall was only getting thicker, falling in so steady a stream that it was a veritable haze. It was an odd feeling to see the familiar sight of Sunny's backyard from a different point of view— a higher point of view perhaps— than the last time he was there, first from his own height growth over the years, and then the boost that came with trudging over extra inches of compacted snow. The two stopped just short of the tree's base and, with an air of silent awe, looked up at the structure they worked so hard to build.

Basil spoke first, wide-eyed, though he wore a serious look on the rest his face. “I don't think I've ever seen the treehouse under so much snow before.”

“We never saw the treehouse in winter, you mean.” Kel said. He leaned his head to the side in Basil's direction as he spoke, and added in a low whisper, regretfully. “Sunny died in the autumn.”

“And after all that work in the summer…” Basil trailed off; he crossed his arms and stared thoughtfully up and down their old handiwork, no doubt deep in his now-usual pensive moods. “We hardly used it two months.”

“We're coming back to it now, aren't we?” Kel had one hand on the ladder; he gave it a firm tug to ensure it wouldn't snap under his weight. “That should count for something.”

Basil frowned; he seemed to think hard for a moment before shaking his head dismissively at whatever thought occupied him. “It’s a little late for visiting to give us any brownie points now, no?”

“Only if you think it’s too late.” The rope ladder swung gently under Kel's feet as he effortlessly pulled himself up, rung by rung. “You know, the last time I was here was the day of the recital. It’s not like I don’t know what's bugging you; it bugs me too.” Some silence followed before Basil fashioned a response.

“I never knew that.”

“It was just a normal hangout.” Kel continued in the ensuing silence, stopping only for a brief moment to reach up towards the treehouse’s entrance doorknob. “Nothing I needed to announce to you guys,” he said in a groan. “I didn’t stay too long either, had to run off to that barbershop to get my hair done… and to get changed for the recital.”

“Stuck pretty hard in your memory?” Basil asked.

“Is that a suggestion?” Kel said with some jest. He turned the knob, and the door opened with a satisfying click. “I couldn't tell you what I remembered if it didn’t.” He pressed the matter no further, nor did he have any need to. He spent the next few moments staring inside the treehouse; everything seemed to be in the same places they were all those years ago, it was frankly startling how many entrenched memories came to the forefront in that single moment, like his brain scanned each and every object that lay within those thin, wooden walls, and since pulled all of them out at once for reference.

“It’s whatever you like it to be,” Basil rebuffed, mind still evidently fixed on the last thing Kel said. “How is it looking up there?”

Kel smiled, though he knew Basil couldn't see it; frankly, he couldn't help himself. “It’s just like I remember it.” With one more concerted effort, he finally pulled himself aloft. He paced over to the broad window just next to the door and poked his head over the little decorative flowers that adorned the windowsill. “I’d like it if you went up here; but if you wanna freeze down there, be my guest.”

Even from up here, Kel could hear Basil grumbling quietly to himself, one of the rare times he did. “You could just ask, you know? Save the sarcasm for Aubrey.”

“And torture her with my cruel cruel words? I couldn't do that to her.” Kel could only scoff mockingly. “You want me to do that to her?”

“Better if you didn’t do it at all.”

“Now that’s what I want to hear.” Kel hunched over the treehouse entrance, peering down so he could watch Basil ascend the ladder, which he did so quickly, quick enough that Kel pulled back just as soon as he looked over. He misjudged the amount of speed he needed, overestimated, and fell quite badly on his backside.

Witnessing the display, Basil deadpanned, “Hmm, that's not good,” without the slightest hint of irony. The juxtaposition of the flat remark with the usual, expected, unsaid, but very much implied barb of “serves you right” was enough to make Kel burst with incredulous laughter.

“Where do you come up with these dumb lines?” Kel managed on his first reprieve from the laughter. It didn’t take long for him to pick himself up, and rightly dust himself off. After three years of neglect, and the recent snowfall that blew through the window— an intentional, unfortunately unclosable gap in the woodwork, left the floor in a shabby state, where dust and snow mixed in what could only be described as a gray powder, and in the spots nearest to the window, gray slush where the snow melted. “It’s not those books you read setting a bad example for you, is it?”

“Hey! I wouldn't say that.” Basil mumbled the latter end rather timidly, though it was easy to tell by reading his face how irked he truly was. “Sunny's read most of the books I recommended. You wouldn't accuse him of that, would you?”

It was a low blow, Kel crossed his arms and he felt his features harden. “Sunny's different. Don’t bring the dead into this.” His words had their intended effect, and the irked creases on Basil’s face began to soften.

“I shouldn't have said that.” his friend soon admitted, in a softer voice this time. His eyes nervously fitted between all the mementos that were scattered across the room. “That ought to teach me to hold my temper.” he added in a mumble.

“Let’s just forget about it. We're not here for that. We're here to…” his gaze went skyward as he thought of the right word, “to… to reminisce. We sat around, we played cards, enjoyed the company. There's something here to remember that by.”

“It won't cheer us up for very long.” thought Basil aloud. In his hands were a few books he left up there, propped up by the wall right next to the window. The faux-leather hardcovers were mottled with faded stains, and a quick flip through the pages revealed some mold damage. Sunny must've been reading through them, true to Basil’s word, but he never did finish the books.

“But it'll cheer us up.” Kel said in spite of this. “It’s kinda surprising, but that's what I’m thinking. I mean, look at this.” Wedged on the other end of the windowsill between the decorative plants, the poor little thing, was Aubrey's old stuffed toy. “It’s uhh… m- p-... s-... Sir Eggplant. Yeah, him!” Kel tried his damndest in recalling, but that didn’t sound like the right name either. Basil seemed to recognize it immediately though.

“Oh!” he said. After sparing a moment to set down his precious books, Basil walked over and marveled the find. “Mr. Plantegg! Aubrey was wondering where you went.” He apologized for the subsequent rough handling that occurred in his attempt to clear it of most of its dust. He apologized to the stuffed toy.

“You’re not gonna try compensating it with a fancy dinner, are you?” Kel jested once more.

“Kel, sarcasm.” Basil merely narrowed his eyes at him. “No harm in making it look nice again. Aubrey’ll like this back, you know?”

“She’s not twelve anymore, Basil. You sure?”

Basil looked incredulous at Kel's disbelief. “I’m sure,” he said. “I don’t go to your house and throw your mixtapes into the trash, do I?”

“We wouldn't be friends for much longer if you did.” Kel replied dryly.

Basil nodded knowingly. “We can't just throw things away just because they're old. I’d like to keep Aubrey's friendship, thank you very much.” he continued to busy himself with the stuffed toy. “That's what I mean.”

Kel could only chuckle to himself, friendship indeed. Thoughtfulness was certainly a reason, but definitely not the only reason for such. “Seems to me that Aubrey could make you do a good many things.”

“For a good reason, sure I would. Wouldn't you?”

“And you'd do anything I ask… for a good reason too?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhuh.”

“I mean it.” Basil couldn't get any more emphatic than that; there was humor there that Kel heartily laughed to, though the more he laughed, the more visibly miffed Basil looked. “Aubrey's Aubrey,” the boy finally said, “she's a good friend and I owe her a lot.” He looked wistfully away, out the window and into the middle distance. “She introduced me to you guys, and I don't know where I'd be if she didn't.”

“I think you would've been alright.”

“You can't say that for sure.” Basil chided. “Besides, Aubrey was my first, really good friend.”

“You never forget your first.”

Basil frowned. “Sounds dirty when you say it.”

A small interim of silence allowed Kel the opportunity to mull over his thoughts. “Is it dirty to say that Sunny was my first really good friend?”

“No, it wouldn't.”

“It's a special thing, Basil. It sticks with you for as long as you live.”

Basil seemed to really consider this piece of advice; he smiled. “Yeah, it's… special.” His eyes scanned around once more while he remained locked in that reverie. Everything just looked so beautiful, so caught up and frozen in one period in time.

Kel remembered lazing about, lying flat on his back with his legs elevated above him, resting on the great table in center of the room. Sunny was there too, thought they interacted little that day, recital day.

It was in this mood that Kel responded with some glee. “That's the spirit, keep it up.” He could hardly notice the smile that was now slowly slipping from Basil's face, till it was no longer a smile at all, and closer to a curious, thoughtful frown. “What is it,” he finally said upon noticing the sour look on Basil's face.

“This doesn't belong here.” And Basil was right; large, heavy, and extremely unwieldy, Kel could only wonder how the toy box got there.

Chapter Text

Aubrey lounged lazily on Basil's couch; there wasn't much more in her mind apart from a deep sense of idleness. Basil was going to take a little longer to come home it seemed— she certainly didn't expect it; she was quite surprised herself, and Hero seemed more surprised still. It was a shame, he was rather happy before the topic came up, and now he was in one of his thoughtful moods again. From where she sat, she could see him nursing a cup of tea— another shame, for she was certain it had lost all of its warmth by now, and turned room temperature and flat in taste. Basil's grandmother would certainly object to his handling of the drink, but she wasn't in the room to witness, “not for another few minutes of procedure,” Polly informed her some time ago. Old age was a rough sort of adventure, wasn't it?

Aubrey could wait, there wasn't much else to do but wait. She'd been to this house more times than she could count; any novelty it had for itself was long gone, a comfortable lack of novelty, but comfortable could be awfully dull. The people that lived in it were the ultimate draw, and all three were occupied with themselves. If it was any consolation, Mari's house wasn't too far off; Basil was sure to return before the roast was done cooking. Even an hour since her entrance, some time still remained till they could finally dine. Her stomach grumbled at the mere thought of it; the acrid tickle of restless gastric acid left a bad taste in her mouth.

With an irksome feeling like that, Aubrey wasn't pleased one bit. She gazed rather longingly at the kitchen, first to the tardy slow cooker that held the ultimate prize of their dinner, and then to the pantry shelves above, stocked with non-perishables and other minor foodstuffs. She was always free to take and eat, so she was always told, but she never did. Something about not being hungry and politely thanking them for the effort anyway— Basil's grandmother often chided her regardless for her wanton modesty on things like that. Hero would chide her too, given the chance, even more so if he knew how peckish she was at the moment, though she knew the older boy was never much good at being stern. Chiding or not, for once, she would have welcomed it. It was a good excuse for conversation, she supposed. It was as good a reason as any to break him from his mood.

She hopped to her feet and made quick strides to the other end of the room, and, stepping into the kitchen detachment, she set herself to work, getting a cup for herself, igniting the stovetop, and reboiling the sad potful of tea that remained. A few minutes of interim afforded her the leeway to search up among the foodstuffs; a reliable box of saltine crackers always sat by the shelf's edge in easy reach. She set it down before her companion with a tinny ring, startling him— that was hardly her intention, but it did well enough to get his attention. Once he sufficiently recovered, Hero mumbled a quick “Yes?”

“Are you thinking about something again?” Aubrey asked, tempering her curiosity with a fair amount of courtesy.

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a look on your face,” brows knitted, with eyes locked on something they clearly have little interest in, she'd seen it before, “I know that face.” she said.

“You know what face?” Hero swirled his cup of tea with his off-hand, though his eyes never dropped to supervise the action; instead, they gazed curiously at Aubrey.

“Your down face,” said Aubrey.

“Down?” Hero sipped the tea gingerly, drinking it more readily upon realizing it wasn't hot. He was one of those sorts that ended a sip with a satisfied sigh, and he did so despite himself, and the circumstances.

“You don’t know someone for several years without picking up a few things.” That was the bare truth as far as she was concerned. Basil, Hero, and even Sunny, were strongly taken by thoughtful looks, a slow-blinking, focused sort of look. It took a keener eye to match that look with the worry that creased Hero’s face with extra wrinkles. Worry could make a man grow up in a heartbeat— the lines on Hero’s face added some ten years to his eighteen, soon to be nineteen.

Setting his now-empty cup to one side, Hero found it in him to humor her. “You read minds?” he said, putting on an exaggerated play of blind naivete.

Aubrey scoffed. “I sure wish I could.” She rubbed circles over her lap and leaned forward on her chair. “That’s why I’m asking. It'll save me time,” arcing her index finger between the two of them, she continued, “save us both time.”

Hero gave a wry smile. “You make it sound so serious.”

“Maybe,” she paused for some time; wording was the essence of any good sentence, and she was loath to charge through in wanton disregard, not today at least, “but whatever it is, I want to hear you out, let you talk about it.” If there was anything she was good at, it was the rare skill of pleading a case— her case more often than not. “How about it?” Aubrey grinned with equal mix sympathy and accomplishment. Hero had a familiar glimmer back in his eyes. She never quite knew what he felt in those moments, but it could only be good.

Hero shrugged. “You drive a hard bargain but, there's not much to talk about.”

“There's always something, Hero.”

“Problems come and go. An old one goes away and another comes in.” Hero grabbed the teapot, and raised it aloft to pour himself another cupful. “There is always something; there's nothing too special about them.”

Boys and melodrama, Aubrey thought melodrama was a girl's forte once. She could only do so much to keep herself from grinning in disbelief. “Do they need to be special?” she asked. Perhaps Hero read the same books Basil did, those fancy, purply tales. The two certainly thought the same things, though Basil was never quite as verbose, and never as cagey.

“We can't make everything special now, can we? It'd fly in the face of the word ‘special’.”

“I'm not talking about everything.” Aubrey's voice had her usual pep, though slowly but surely, she found a measure of cool collection. “We've never had a talk like this before, I'm sure we could talk about something important.”

Hero raised his eyebrows. “Like?”

“Well,” It was just a thought, but Aubrey had something in mind. She crossed her arms as she said it, “Sunny, I guess. You were walking back from the church earlier, weren't you?” She was hardly mid-sentence when Hero’s face began to crease into a deep frown. It wasn't entirely unexpected, he was bound to frown sooner or later, but it was the most serious Aubrey had ever seen him. She was getting somewhere at least, though that feeling was measured by a nagging inkling of understandable worry.

“I can’t come back after all this time and not visit,” he said after a pause, “can I?” By his tone, Aubrey could tell the question was rhetorical. “It doesn't get easier, if that's what you were gonna ask next.”

“That’s not everyone’s first question whenever they ask about it, is it?”

“It is, funnily enough.” Hero’s frown loosened to a pursed scrunch on his lips. “Does it surprise you?”

“I’m more surprised you talk to people about it.” Aubrey took a few sips from her own cup to parch her drying throat. “Therapist?” she asked soon after.

Hero shook his head. “Nothing like that, just something with the guidance counselors.”

“The career guys?”

“They have psychology degrees; they're qualified for that sort of thing.”

“I talked to one once,” Aubrey grinned with some bemusement, “she just gave me a journal to vent it all out.”

“Our middle school isn't exactly Harvard now, is it?”

Hands on her hips, Aubrey couldn't help but chastise, “You don’t go to Harvard, Hero.”

“I don’t.”

“Did you talk much to this counselor?”

“A few times. I gave vague details.” Hero shrugged his shoulders, propping his arms up on his elbows and pivoting his palms down like an open book. “They don’t need the nitty gritty of things.”

Aubrey sat back, sliding down as her posture slouched. “They usually do, to get a feel for what's bugging you.” It was an awful waste to tell just half of any story. “They're professionals, like you said.” She set herself up soon after, pushing on both arms of her chair till her gaze was level with Hero’s. He seemed to shrink under the increased scrutiny.

“Professionals or not, I don’t think any explanation would cut it— to make them understand, I mean.”

Aubrey leaned forward, mirroring his pose with arms propped aloft. “What worries you the most about it?” she asked.

Hero thought long and hard, that Aubrey could tell quite clearly. He hummed and hawed before settling on a response. “I don’t like the way things just stick in my head. People tell you to keep memories…” he trailed off for a few seconds before resuming, “you’d think you could just forget the bad ones.”

“The brain doesn't always work the way we want it. It has a mind of its own.”

“That’s ironic in more ways than one.” Hero mumbled the beginnings of a medical explanation before backing off, some tangent on the function of the brain, and something else she couldn't quite understand. “A-anyways,” Hero paused for a moment to gather himself; Aubrey hadn’t seen him this flustered in a while, “I can’t say I like it.” What was it with men and understatement, she wondered.

Aubrey rested her head on her propped-up hands, leaning forward and lower down; her eyes looked up now to gaze into his. “Tell me all about it,” It was something Mari always said to calm her down; there was no harm in trying it out on Hero, surely. She went on. “I know I wasn't there to see anything, but… Sunny was my friend too. You helped me when I had my share of problems; let me give some of that back, Hero.”

“You don’t need to do that for me.” Hero said in a low hum.

“Does it need to be a need? I’m not hung up on stuff like that.” Their cups were running low; Aubrey made the preemptive decision to pour out the remainder of the tea, splitting it between the both of them. She didn’t like resorting to desperation, but she gave a pleading stare.

Hero crossed his arms, and looked off where her gaze couldn't reach him. “It’s a long story,” he almost seemed sorry for rebuffing her efforts, “it isn’t… pretty.” Aubrey recognized the look in his eyes, a look she saw long ago. The last person she saw wearing it withdrew into his room for six months in despair; that, she couldn't abide by. There was no rebuffing her now.

“Try me,” said Aubrey. She only hoped to God it would work.

Chapter Text

It was a squat wooden box, lined with faux cast iron— stamped aluminum if the books were to be believed. Basil always thought it looked like a treasure chest; it had the side handles of one, and even a keyhole on the front end.

“How do you think it got up here?” It was all Kel could ask; he scratched his chin as he said it. Frankly, Basil thought much the same way; his friend just beat him to the punch. The box caught their attention both it seemed. Kel crouched on his approach, settling down with one knee to the ground. Basil followed just behind him, and kneeled down to Kel's right.

Basil dragged one finger along the boxtop. “There's a television up here,” he said in a pointed retort to Kel's question. “How'd you get that up here?” Holding his finger up to the light, Basil could see the unmistakable stain of dust and grime; he wondered how long the box stayed up there, how many years it languished up there.

“Slowly, whilst grinning.” Kel quipped with uncharacteristic fancy. “You don't think I brought the toy box up here too, do you?” After a lifetime of mischief, it was a natural Kel question, practically expected.

“I didn't say toy box,” Basil said with a chuckle. “Just the TV, Kel, and it was rhetorical.”

Kel raised his eyebrows. “Re- what?”

Basil shook his head and shrugged. “It got up here somehow.” Frankly, it was easier to carry on, far easier than explaining the concept of rhetorical sentences to Kel of all people.

But, Kel was never one to get caught up in things like that. “You'll never know my ways.” He said instead, finding the humor in the situation, though it was with notable impatience that he blew over the boxtop to speed up the dusting process. Fortunately, Basil ducked back when he did, before he fell victim to the ensuing cloud. Kel meanwhile, “A magician never—” he wasn't so lucky; he hacked and coughed as the cloud of dust plumed as a testament to his judgement, “a magician never reveals— Kah!— his secrets— Koff! Koff!”

It was hardly a moment since Basil darted back. “What magic trick do you call that?” he asked in an innocent drawl, trying his hardest to keep a straight face as his friend continued to sputter. He was never much of an overt tease, but the temptation was never too far off from enticing him otherwise. Kel was too preoccupied to offer any response, however.

“Kah!— ahh— Tchoo!” On and on, Kel rubbed his watery eyes with the hem of his shirtsleeve. There couldn’t be any less than a few years of dust over the box, and Kel inhaled a mummy’s worth of the stuff, though Basil didn’t dare quip that aloud. But, with most of the dust up in the air, he certainly felt freer to touch the box as he pleased. The hatch top was normally a breeze to open, but a quick tug-up revealed otherwise. Basil jiggled it a few times before setting himself back down; his finger tracked left from the rightmost corner of the lid till he stopped right at the center, tapping it squarely on the keyhole. Kel recovered just enough to say, “it’s locked?”

“Seems like it.” Basil gave it another tug just to be sure. “Where’d the key go?” he muttered under his breath. The toybox wasn’t usually locked— silly putty and slinkies weren’t very valuable things to steal. Sunny kept all his miscellaneous trinkets in it; the same trinkets they found elsewhere. “We found Sunny’s toys in the storage closet, didn’t we?” Basil asked tentatively. They couldn't be in the box now.

There was a long silence that followed while Kel thought of an answer. “We did,” said he, and the thought sat in both of their minds for another few moments more, but it was only natural that Kel made his mind known first, “weird. I wonder where the key went.”

“You wanna look around?” said Basil.

Kel shrugged. “It's a good start.”

The church doors shut with a definitive thump; Mari could still hear them with surprising clarity where she stood. The sound echoed about the hall, bouncing back endlessly in a cacophonous deluge. She remembered it spilling out to the rear graveyard through the open back door. All that noise still rang in Mari’s ears, popping the pent up pressure in them. “What the hell’s going on?” was all she could say, and it wasn't about the sound at all. Hero walking off like that… what was it all about?

Trying to make sense of things so quickly was an awful pain, and a tricky thing to do. Something about remembering, about that day, that’s what he spoke about. Mari felt a sharp gaze pierce through her, the silent dread of it, in every nerve. Not satisfied with chill, the feeling manifested into something more akin to pins and needles, prodding and stabbing her. Hero was nervous just like this, wasn't he?

“This is some mess, isn't it?” Mari looked back, turning only as far as she dared. Only granite stared back. “I always hoped you were watching, but just this once, I hope you weren't.” Sunny adored all of them, the group. “I don't want your heart to break.” She didn’t have to worry about catastrophes like the group breaking apart, or this complication with herself, with Hero. Hell, it was her job and Hero’s to ensure things sailed smoothly between the six of them. She shook her head with a sigh; at this rate, it very well was too late to say things like that. Perhaps Sunny's heart broke long ago. She couldn't bear the thought of it.

The door leading back into the church remained open; Hero didn't make any attempt to close it upon his flight from the graveyard. All Mari needed to do was weave between the gap. There, between the preacher and the pews, she felt a curious sort of stillness in the air, a deep, almost trance-like sort of silence; it was quiet enough that the flicker of candlelight was the loudest noise within the room. Mari could hardly parse herself walking towards an empty pew; she hardly remembered taking a comfortable seat. Hell, she didn’t remember when she started praying, eyes closed with her hands clenched desperately together; but, somehow, she had the clearest sense of what she prayed about, what she discussed and pleaded to that silent void.

Amen, isn’t that what people say after a long moment of contemplation, weary and white-knuckled in their efforts to please and placate? Mari certainly thought so, it was the only way all this work could be justified; she kept her mind to it even when the windows started to rattle something fierce, rising from the dull hum of the previous silence. Through the black of her closed eyes, she could see the candlelight bleeding through, wavering; they stood out prominently despite the harsh glare of the church’s capable electric lighting. Mari could feel it best of all, the candles could be warm when the bulbs couldn’t. She felt, at least for the moment, perfectly safe from the ills of the outside world; that wouldn't last for much longer. She would have to leave soon. But until then, she would keep going on with this little contemplation, till that last amen. It wasn't only to that faceless God she was talking to, and there was a lot to discuss.

Snow was starting to fall again; the strong winds stirred it around till a wall of white was all anyone could see. The weather, Mari could expect; the din onslaught went on too long for her to ignore, but this… it was something else. She blinked to clear her vision; hardly a moment went by since she opened the church doors, and barely a crack at that, before the winds made good on the opportunity, going by so fast that they blew out the candles. If the forecasts were to be believed, this was only going to get stronger; she had to push through. Mari still had much on her mind— so soon after her little contemplation just moments ago— but she made her leave soon enough, and not without a quick apology to the preacher for inviting the cold in. It was a good thing he didn't seem to mind, and he bid her goodbye as he set about relighting the flames. Mari could hear him striking a match up as the doors closed behind her. Soon enough, she longed for their glow as the frigid air washed over her in full.

She took her first few steps out, trudging through all the white. Frankly, everything was white— the wind was blowing so hard, it seemed to stick snow to just about anything it could hit, even to the trunks of trees. It was the start of a blizzard, and a pretty bad one at that. There was no life around, save for Mari herself; the birds flew to better horizons, or hid, like everything else that roamed the ground. Cars, that once sped through with reckless endeavor, were nowhere to be seen. They couldn't hope to speed through the stacking layers of snow that built up over the past hour. It was a predicament for sure: if they couldn't brave the wind and snow, could she? There was only one way to test that hypothesis.

Mari slowly walked along the matted snow-hedge where once a sidewalk stood, kicking snow loose with every step. Every so often, she could catch glimpses of the concrete underneath if she scraped her boots down hard enough, though that made for harder traversal. She left trails of breath behind her; they plumed back like the exhaust of a steam train. And the tracks she left in the snow, if only she could see what was left of them behind her; they disappeared as soon as she stepped away, like they were never there.

In time, Mari was able to reach the first houses of the street; she could just about see their colorful, albeit rather plain roofs. Their windows were all shut tight, and rightly so. It was thanks to it that they braved the inclement weather, faring better than most houses of their size. Using their hazy silhouette as a guide, Mari ventured on; so long as the roofs lined up neatly to her left, there was little chance of getting lost in the white. There was some spring left in her step, though it wavered and weakened little by little.

But soon, the roofs to her left disappeared rather quickly, and the snow she stepped on crunched ever-deeper, gradually, till they sank some 6 inches from what she had grown begrudgingly accustomed to. Even with the limited visibility, she could tell the space opened up considerably around her. The intersection, that's what it was. Mari didn't think she'd reach it so soon; her feet dragged with every step, she half expected to have slowed to a crawl by now. But, she had some energy left to use on a decision.

On her left was the road that led back to her house; if she could brave the snow and winds for longer, she would be in the conforms of familiarity. But just ahead of her, across the intersection, was the green roof of Basil's house. It was closer.

“...”

Maybe it wasn't much of a decision after all.

It had to be here somewhere. Where was it? Again and again Basil scoured the same places, turning over the same items over and over. The treehouse wasn't a large area to search, but he was turning up blanks.

“Basil?”

Kel's voice echoed from the other end, where the door and window were; his friend prowled around where old pillows and the paper flowers he and Aubrey made sat for the better part of three years. Basil was too preoccupied with mulling over the spaces he was to examine for the hundredth time; he gave nothing more than a brief harrumph. The snow was beating down on them, finding the opportunity to blast sideways through the always-open window. It matted the space inside with a terrible mix of white and gray— where the snow mixed with the thick layer of dust inside, three years in the making.

“It’s important.”

With the weather ever-worsening, Basil had to work harder and faster. In time, he’ll have to go, along with Kel, and escape the frigid cold. “Why’s that?” He didn’t look up from his renewed vigor; there was little time to waste. The sooner he could find the key, the sooner they could descend the ladder back to safety.

“Dunno how to break it to you, but it’s bad.” Kel’s voice was steady, but it was marked with evident twinges of worry, moderated worry, but still worry. Kel wasn’t often worried.

“What’s the matter?” Basil turned to find Kel by the door; it was open a crack, and Kel’s eyes peeked through the gap. He was unfazed by the barrage of snow against his face, nor the roaring wind that followed it. He simply sat, and stared.

“The ladder’s broken, Basil.” The words came out in a startling monotone, clinically, even. Kel seemed to lose himself for a moment as the thought crept in, and then out of him. “Half of it’s detached and it’s flying in the wind. We’re trapped up here.”

Chapter Text

“C’mon kids, dinner is ready!” That was Polly's voice, wasn't it? Hero hummed to himself; it’s funny how the briefest of words could snap him from his reverie. He could see the movement of Aubrey's eyes, briefly to his right towards the voice, then quickly back at him.

“So, how about it, Hero?” she said. Emphatic words; he considered them carefully.

He stared down at his cup, half-full of tea, and he stirred it, though his gaze slowly rose up.

“You sound very sure of yourself,” he said, looking across the table where Aubrey sat; she poured herself the last of the tea, and their eyes met as she carried on with her newfound bravado.

“I am sure of myself.” She spoke with a confident air around her. “I don’t like yapping without a reason for it.”

“And you think there is reason for it?”

Aubrey replied only moments later. “I do.”

Hero couldn't help but marvel silently; he always knew Aubrey had bravado, but he'd never seen this kind of bravado, the kind that saw her act older than even he was. He felt the most curious feeling, a novel kind of incredulity. For all his life he'd been the older brother— and Aubrey said time and time again herself how much he was one to her; seeing the roles reversed for once in his life certainly wasn't on his Christmas list this year.

But, they soon had to turn their attention to the newcomers: Polly, and Basil’s grandmother. That was the face Hero remembered at least, he hadn’t seen her in… how long now? The last time couldn't have been much later than Sunny's funeral. She dressed up simply, he recalled, in a well-worn black dress. It was her steady hands that held Basil up by the end of it.

He could still hear the boy scream as the casket was carried away. It echoed in moments like these. Seeing her was like seeing that November morning again, but he was sad to say that the woman that he saw now was a far cry from that firm figure that cared for Basil in years past.

She was paler… frailer, if he could be allowed the cruel poetry to describe it. One hand clung to life on a cane, and the other clamped on Polly’s steadier ones.

What happened to her?

“Let's take this on the road.” Aubrey said, perhaps sensing the growing trepidation within him. She stood up in rapt preparation and picked up the kettle to make space on the table. He watched as she walked over to the kitchen and set the kettle down next to the sink— and just in time too. She was in the right position to quickly silence the alarm clock Polly used as a makeshift timer. The roast was finally, truly done.

From the look on Polly’s face, it was like music to her ears. “Good! I timed it just right.” Her face lit up in pleasant surprise.

Though Aubrey's hands moved to motion him hither, he needed no such prompting. He stood up and followed her to greet the two newcomers properly, and to one of them in particular. “It’s good to see you, ma’am.” he said reverently and offered his hand. “I’d like to walk you over to the table if you'd like, let Polly get a hold of the roast.”

“That's kind of you, Henry.” Basil's grandmother replied, voice slow and hoarse, but still rich with the firmness of her youth. Though her hand shook reflexively upon letting go of Polly, she stretched it out, palms up, for him to gently take into his.

A hobbling gait, it wasn't anything he remembered her having, but it made for careful going.

Aubrey looked on, eyes wide in almost childlike curiosity. Hero could feel her gaze burning through the back of his head. He managed a crooked grin before the old woman noticed the discomfort.

“How are you feeling tonight?” he asked, in some effort at polite conversation.

“Like I'm seventy-five, which I am.” she said with a wry smile on her face. “They've finally found a way to balance me out.”

“This is a first then?”

“Well, you know the age old saying, ‘Act your age.’ ?” She tapped her cane rhythmically. “I've never been a firm believer of it.” she settled back with a coy smile.

Hero did much the same, and he snorted silently to himself. “You always had a vigorous spirit”

“Oh yes, I spent many years feeling fifty-eight, and I enjoyed fifty-eight.” She tapped her cane once more with a final thud. “But my body can't do fifty-eight anymore. It's time to close that chapter of my life.”

“But something can be done to help with that, no?” Hero could hear Polly’s approach, his eyes flitted her direction for a moment before they went back to their former posts on Basil's grandmother.

“I hope I didn't make you two wait too long.” Polly said, in unwitting interruption. Roast in hand, she set it down on the table before them.

Basil's grandmother smiled again and shook her head. Her gaze fell first on Polly, and then on him, lingering just long enough for him to notice. “Not at all, dear.” she said, focusing now on adjusting her spot on the dinner table. “The food looks dee-licious.”

And on she went, making idle conversation. She made peace with her lot in life. Hero could only marvel; he couldn't say he made peace with his own.

The sound of Aubrey's voice aroused him from the thought. She beckoned him over again; hands over the running sink, she did so with a nod of her head.

“You think Basil will be home soon?” she said on his approach.

Hero leaned back on an adjacent counter. “If he's with Kel, as you've said, I don't doubt he'll be here soon enough.”

“Why's that?”

The sound of running water peppered all throughout their little exchange. “They won't be late.” he said as matter-of-factly as he could. He let out an amused chuckle. “And allow the food to get cold?”

Aubrey shook her head in exasperation, shaking off the excess water before reaching for the towel, and stepped aside as they swapped places. He looked at her briefly before sliding his hands under the spout. “Hey,” she began in a low whisper, just as the water splashed his skin, “I know I said this before, but I want to make it clear. You can always talk to me, alright?”

“I know, Aubrey.”

“I'll hold you to it.” she replied in half-jest.

He didn't say much himself. Time was of no essence; he let the moment breathe, have a life of its own. Soon enough, he couldn’t tell how long he idled, rubbing circles over his palms, but it was long enough to witness the slow morph of Aubrey’s countenance. He found his gaze drifting back to her in intervals, and he watched as her eyes slowly narrowed and her features hardened.

Frankly, she looked… hurt.

“Hero.” she said, again. Though he desperately tried to avert his gaze from the growing glint in her eyes, the stern look on her face pulled him back in, simply demanding his attention; he did so obediently enough. It didn't take long for him to get acquainted to that look on her eyes… or perhaps, reacquainted.

Damn you, Mari, just this once. Aubrey looked up to her in more ways than one. There was no winning this.

There was no way he was winning this.

He sighed, resigning so soon was not on his Christmas list either. But, have valid alternatives he did not.

Maybe it was a good thing…

Or maybe not.

There was only one way to confirm that particular hypothesis. He could feel the tickle of that ever-familiar lump in his throat, but on he went.

“We were all excited when the day finally came for the two of them to play their song.” There wasn't much to it, the prelude, their little duet. But he could remember every note, every line. He could feel the recollection wash over him, and for once, looked to Aubrey for some semblance of assurance. “Weren't we?”

Aubrey stood wordlessly for a moment, almost surprised that he spoke. “I sure was.” she said after another pause to settle her thoughts. “We all got ready, dressing ourselves up.”

Fancy outfits and fancier hair, at least that was the crux of their preparations on their end. Nothing close to the months of hard work Mari and Sunny had to do. Hero didn’t know how long the two of them sat in the ensuing relative silence. Was he starting right? Was that what Aubrey wanted to know, this… narrative? Even now, as Hero continued to stare in silent unease, the girl stared back with rapt attention and great expectancy.

“You were with us for the afternoon, so this goes without saying… the salon and haircut part you can remember I’m sure.” he continued. It was an upscale salon they went to, upscale enough that he could count his total visits on just one hand, all of them on the eve of some special event. He remembered sitting idly by, watching his mother go first to save them the wait after their own haircuts. He mumbled the recollection aloud.

“You didn’t need a haircut.” Aubrey remarked, almost annoyed at the thought. “I don’t know what you do to your hair to make it so… unfussy.”

“Your hair shaped up just fine if I’m remembering it right.” Trivial as it was, Hero found some sympathy for her plight.

Aubrey frowned. “You don’t know that. You left before they finished.” What she left unsaid— something he was keenly aware of— was the fact that he only ever saw her styled hair properly much, much later. By then, her jet black curls were more windswept than wavy, and they fell into great disrepair by the end.

But he was getting ahead of himself. “Let’s call it instinct.” he said in placid response to her question.

“Is that what you feed your hair, instinct?”

“I wish I could.”

“You would if you could.”

“I would.”

“Doesn’t explain why you left early.” Aubrey mumbled in a flatter tone. “You’re usually all responsible and patient with our shenanigans.”

“Our?” Hero raised a curious eyebrow.

“Me and Kel.” said Aubrey, almost begrudgingly.

Hero let out an amused scoff. “You two were never too much to handle.”

Aubrey turned away in mock offense. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“If it does, sure.” He shrugged. “I didn’t leave because of you to begin with.”

“Well, why then?” Aubrey crossed her arms. A stern look creasing her features, Hero knew the look.

He clasped his hands together and said, “I have my reasons.” For the purposes of getting past, and indeed over, a topic, hand-wavey answers trumped frankness any day, or so he thought. It wasn’t long before he questioned that so-called fact of life, as Aubrey narrowed her eyes at him, looking even sterner than before.

“I thought we were talking openly with each other tonight.” she said.

“Aren’t we?”

Aubrey retorted in a huff. “You were with Mari that afternoon.” Her face was an unreadable mix, like she couldn’t decide herself what face to put on. Confusion, sympathy… Hero could see disappointment. “There’s no point saying otherwise.” she continued, voice gentler than it was just moments ago.

“It wasn’t a lie.” said Hero, meekly.

“It's not about lying or it being a lie. I said open. There's nothing wrong with wanting to see Mari; it's not something you hide though.”

“What are you doing here Basil?”

“I wanted to see Sunny and Mari. Don't you want to see them before the recital later?”

But memories did little to settle the matter at hand— not even the best of them could, and these ones most certainly couldn't. From them, Hero could hear a low rumble. It was a paltry noise at first, one he could tune out in accordance to his wishes, but not for long.

“Mari?”

“It's… it's hard, Aubrey.”

“What's hard?”

The noise wasn't letting up. If anything, it was growing, louder, stronger. He wrung his hands till they hissed in protest.

“I don't think it matters why
I was there, only that I was there.”

“Sunny?”

He shut the faucet, and the water ceased to flow. All the better, he could hardly hear it over the rumble now.

“Are you in there?”

“What happened in there, Hero?” Aubrey's words were soft and muddled. “Did you… did you see—” her voice sank beneath the deluge, that fragment the last of what he heard before the rumble took center stage, stealing the limelight, and indeed everything else.

No matter, he knew perfectly well how the rest of the question must've gone. Anything else, and he wasn't Henry Rodriguez, he could bet that much. He stood with bated breath as the query finally left Aubrey's lips in full.

“Yes.”

He dared not close his eyes. Like a waking dream, it came to the forefront with every blink, step by step, one after the other.

And Aubrey, she shut hers. Chin up and head back, she fought the tears. A few slipped past the corners, though she made quick efforts to wipe them clear. His chest squeezed at the sight, and had he not regretted the conversation from the start, perhaps this was where he would turn against himself.

This, though not the first reason, was one of many. Far from a hypothetical, it was never one in his mind. There was no peace to be found even in his cursory absence of a retelling. Just the thought of Sunny's ultimate fate…

Aubrey seemed to start for a moment. His eyes scanned her once more for context, but her own eyes remained shut. An extended pause ensued, broken when Aubrey herself visibly spoke. And then, she spun on her heels and pulled away. It was startling to see her move so quickly, and more startling still to see her stride towards the door. Was it a knock then, and in this weather? He could only watch on as she pulled the door in with audible effort, sliding back as the wind and snow pushed in with a rush. Through all that white, he could see a dark figure— and he could tell Aubrey could too. The girl backed a step in astonishment. He could almost see the figure looking at Aubrey, then straight at him. Their face was covered in shadow, but Hero felt an odd sense of familiarity. “Mari?” he said quickly, before his brain even began to realize what a foolish presumption that was.

He squeezed his eyes shut. In his embarrassment, he did the one thing he tried so hard to avoid. He could see it all now, the harsh rays of the afternoon sun streaming on, casting everything it touched in a blinding bloom, from the windows above, to the glistening wood flooring.

Sunny came down with a tremendous crash.

“Mari?” Aubrey's voice rang loud and clear. Hero almost jumped out of his skin. The sudden clarity was too much, he fought the urge to pinch himself. He was going stark raving mad, and noone could tell.

But if he had clarity, Aubrey had it most of all, and with the benefit of a clear view— and because the figure took steps forward into the indoor light, she muttered a startled “oh!” In the end, despite all the embarrassment he felt, his presumption was correct after all. Mari hesitated to pull down the popped-up collars of her thick coat, but she pulled it far enough to confirm her identity. Even with his limited view, Hero could see her teeth chattering.

“Come in.” he said, whilst leaning over from his spot by the counter to beckon her inside. Aubrey did the same, moving back to give Mari space, and flushing at the fact she didn’t say it herself.

Mari shuffled in as quickly as she could, and quite bashfully shook off the snow that clung to her clothes. From the quiet exchange she shared with Aubrey, it was clear she was apologizing for the mess. To her credit, Aubrey did her best to reassure her— it was rather amusing, really, it wasn’t even her house.

“What brings you here, Mari?” Aubrey asked. She helped as Mari took her coat off, placing it on a nearby hat rack. “Is Basil with you?” she looked around in vain before shutting the door.

“Nevermind why she is here.” Basil's grandmother chimed with some pep. “Come in for dinner, the more the merrier.”

Mari made a confused chuckle. “What about Basil?”

“You weren't with him?” Aubrey seemed stunned to near-silence.

“I got caught out in the storm.” Her eyes lay fixed on Aubrey's worried expression, though she went on, “and with the cold, I thought a visit would be a good idea… ” she trailed off, and her face soured quickly thereafter. “Why? Where is he?”

Chapter Text

“How'd they get in? My parents are out of town for the day.”

“I don't think that's the question we need to be asking.” Hero interjected, tersely, despite himself. Mari crossed her arms, frowning, though she nodded her head in agreement. Aubrey squirmed nervously next to her; it was hard to ignore the growing tension.

“That's not helping, Hero.” the girl finally said, though her voice was low, meek, careful.

“We can figure out the other stuff later, that's all I'm saying.” He explained in a lower hush. “All of us are worried here.”

“They must've gotten snowed in.” said Mari.

“They’ve been there a couple of hours; it didn’t snow again till about an hour ago. And you waded though just fine.” Hero countered. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I've got a bad feeling…” he added, but he trailed off.

“I’m sure there’s some way to find out if they’re alright.” said Aubrey, in a louder voice this time. She wore a determined look on her face and bounded across the room, past Polly and Basil's grandmother. “We can’t just twiddle our thumbs and think.”

The two older women looked on; their ears were sharp enough to catch on to the brewing situation. They, prudently perhaps, held their tongue, and watched as Aubrey pounced on the wall phone. She dialed quickly, evidently knowing it by heart— Hero too; he quickly recognized it as Mari’s house number.

It rang and rang, Aubrey curled her fingers around the telephone cord, and tapped her foot impatiently as the moment dragged on.

“Any luck?” Mari asked after a few more lengthy seconds, but it was clear from Aubrey's souring expression that she didn't have any luck at all.

“Maybe the lines are down.” Hero suggested. In blizzards like these, he wouldn't be surprised.

“Nope, it's ringing.” Aubrey sucked air in through gritted teeth. She tapped the receiver against the wall, gently surprisingly enough, though it was clear she was holding back from slamming it.

Even Mari could sense it. “Any more, and that'll break, Aub.” she warned.

“The sooner Basil picks up, the sooner I'll stop.” Aubrey replied with a grimace as she mouthed a silent swear. And still it rang, on and on; the longer it went on, the tighter she gripped the receiver.

Hero’s voice grew stern. “But he isn't picking up.”

“Shut up!” Aubrey stared daggers at him as she snarled with uncharacteristic venom. “This is Basil we're talking about. What are you, giving up?”

“Hey now…”

“Mari, please.” Aubrey’s voice was softer, but her eyes remained sharp as ever. The other girl shrank away, her face a mix of fear and astonishment.

Hero frowned. Aubrey was, thankfully, gentler with Mari, but no less stubborn. Indignant as he was, he dared not say another word— not another spark to that powder keg. It wasn't until Basil's grandmother cut through that the ensuing silence was broken.

“Henry is right, dear.”

The trio turned in surprise. Banal as the words themselves were, it'd been a long while since they heard a stern tone out of the old woman.

“But- ” said Aubrey, meeker this time, the receiver still held aloft, mid-blow.

“It's rung long enough. Any sensible folk would've picked up by now.”

A pensive silence loomed over the two girls. Hero spoke up. “What are you suggesting?” he said in the interim. “They're not at Mari's?”

Basil's grandmother glanced her caretaker's way for a moment before proceeding. “Polly told me all about their little outing.”

“Then…”

“If they're not in the house, then they're… well…” she shook her head mirthlessly.

Hero shook his head too; a quick glance out the window revealed the high snowdrifts, and the howl of the wind, muffled as it was by the sturdy walls that protected them. If they weren't inside Mari's house, the two boys could only be one place else: that wasn't a good thought at all.

Aubrey caught on next, and it wasn't long before she piped up again. “What are we waiting for? Let's go!”

“Patience, Aubrey,” Hero chided, “We have to think this through.” he added in placation, though frankly it was a funny way of placating someone. Amidst his own request for patience, Hero was already halfway across the room, soon to busy himself with layering up for the terrible blizzard outside.

“Says you.” Aubrey ran after him, hopping up to the coat rack to snatch her own gear. She dressed up faster than he did, and the excess layers cooked her in the relative warmth of Basil's house— not that she noticed, or cared.

“I’m coming too.” said Mari. Fresh from the blizzard herself, she needn't put on any more layers. In less than a minute, the three went from feuding by the telephone, to halfway out the door.

“I'd much rather you two didn't go.” The wind made short work of Hero’s voice, but the two girls heard it just fine. “You don't need to risk yourself like that.” and he did his best to shoo the girls back inside.

“And you do?” Aubrey crossed her arms, walking over till she was just an arm's length away from him. Hero yelped as she pulled him in too; he had one hand on the door handle and it shut behind him as he jolted forward. “What are you so worried about us for?”

“It's a blizzard outside.” he protested.

“Like I didn't know that before.” Aubrey said in retort. “Back me up here, Mari.”

Their eyes were on her now: Aubrey's with rapt expectation, and Hero's desperately hoping she'd say otherwise. His eyes met hers; they screamed Are you sure about this? as loud as a look could scream.

Mari’s eyes stared back calmly. “I've got the spare keys.” she said.

“Which you can always hand to me.”

“Which I won't.” Mari replied, sterner this time.

“Mari.”

“We're all going and that's final.”

Far from the meek girl that backed down from Aubrey's steely gaze, Mari was forceful this time, definite. Hero frowned again; her tone was much like her father's when angry, and he wasn't a very kind man when he was. Mari matched the voice with her own stony expression, though it softened quickly as she composed herself. Nevetheless, it brought sour memories to the forefront.

Hero opened his mouth to protest, but a new voice cut through before any more nonsense could be said.

“Are you kids sure this is a good idea?”

Of all the voices already in play, Polly’s was the last Hero expected, but her words rang true. It was a rhetorical question of course, it really wasn't a good idea at all. It was madness to trek even short distances under hazardous conditions like that.

Faced with the true prospects of their plan, the trio stood silent for a minute, the tension and ire evaporating just enough for rough camaraderie to set in. They eyed each other, goading for one of them to speak, until Basil's grandmother broke the silence again. She sighed and said, “No.” in their stead. “But what can we do? Their minds are made up, and it won't be changed for your sake, or mine.”

It was a cutting remark, but they hadn’t the words to contest the conclusion. A bashful air grew amongst the three.

“When you say it like that…” Hero began, though he trailed off soon after. A new development caught his eye; he watched with silent fascination, and perhaps a twinge of worry, as the old woman slowly rose from her seat, gripping her seat white-knuckled until she could pull herself up. Polly rushed to assist, but half the work had been done by then.

She was up on her feet when the next bit came. “Nevermind what it sounds like,” she continued hoarsely, “it's the truth, no?”

Hero could feel her eyes bearing down on him sternly, but she followed the look up with a weak smile. His nonresponse was telling enough, perhaps, and she went on.

“Look, I can't very well hold you down, or stop you in any way like that. You'll be off, all three of you.” She peered over his shoulder, “Don't think I've forgotten about you girls.” They straightened up in surprise, which brought a welcome smile to her lips.

But soon, her voice grew serious again. “All I'm asking is for you to promise me one thing.” and they all craned in, ears perked.

“I know you'll do all you can for Kel and Basil, but please, keep yourselves safe.” Perhaps not the easiest of requests, given their hare-brained idea of braving a blizzard. “That’s the plan, I know, but keep it to heart.”

To this, Hero had an unsteady smile on. “Don't worry, we will. We wouldn’t be any help to them otherwise,” he added. The witticism was perhaps not the best fit for the situation, but Basil's grandmother was kind enough to let it slide.

“That's all I ask.”

The snow continued to pour in. It was freezing as is, but it was getting colder still. Kel shivered as he worked— both of them did, busying themselves with shoring up protection against the plunging temperature. They were lucky the treehouse was furnished with a large carpet; it made for an excellent curtain. They hoisted it up to the open window and tried their damndest to keep it there. Kel never knew how heavy a carpet could be; Basil too, they groaned as they worked.

Unfortunately, despite the many other mementos in the treehouse with them, none of them were any good for bracing the carpet much better than they did on their own. And so they’ve been standing, arms outstretched and feet teetering up on old furniture for much longer than they would’ve liked. To distract themselves from the strain, they carried on with candid conversation. Basil, for one, briefly wondered aloud whose idea it originally was to even lug a toybox up those rope rungs, though he ultimately gave the thought a rest.

“I have to ask,” Kel said, though his voice was hopelessly dulled by the buffet of the wind, “what were you hoping to find up here?” He shuffled his feet to ease the cramp in his calves.

Afflicted as he was too with strain, Basil found the strength to retort, “What do you mean? You invited me up here. You tell me.” Covering up the only source of light cast an artificial darkness across the room, but Kel could make out the confused, but amused grin growing on his friend’s face just the same.

“That’s no way to answer a question.” he mumbled dryly. He turned his nose up with a faux huff. “I mean… you’re right, but…”

“But?”

“I’m curious!” he replied with renewed vigor. If he had the hands to spare, he’d throw them up for effect. “I know we all have stuff up here we remember. I want to know what you remember the most.”

“What I remember most from the toybox, you mean.”

Kel didn’t miss a beat. “Well, you were gunning to get the toy box open for a second there. Hell of a hunt.”

Basil snapped back. “You were sniffing the ground right with me. We were on a hunt.”

“Hey, it's fun to get caught up on a good thing.” Kel chuckled in reply. “But, my point stands. Everything that used to be in that box, we've already found, so…”

“So?”

“What else could it be?”

The room fell silent, wind aside, as Basil looked away to think. With the sound he made, Kel almost thought he was tearing up, but the nervous smile said otherwise.

“To be honest, I dunno,” he said. “Maybe I was just getting my hopes up.”

Hell of a lead, though Kel. It was worth a push; Basil didn’t often get riled up like that.

He had a hunch on where it was all going— whether it was any good was yet to be seen.

Chapter Text

Basil didn’t like the look on Kel’s face; he’d known him long enough. He knew the look, the manic smirk of some mischievous detective willing to do anything for a tempting lead.

“Hopes up for what?” asked Kel, the obvious line of questioning given all that was said. And while Basil thought long and hard, the wind saw it fit to take over. The carpet made a poor seal over the window, and the chill slipped through the gaps.

Hey Sunny! I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.

Maybe the cold was getting to him, but Basil was sure he could hear something through the din, floating around, echoing in his head like the words of a long forgotten dream. But it was no dream. He could feel the winter chill sparking up from the soles of his feet, and he winced as it struck the center of his chest, squeezing his heart like a vice. His voice came out in a low, but resolute whisper.

“Just something I've been thinking about for a while now.”

Kel cocked his head over to the mementos scattered across the room. “And you figured it must be up here, somewhere in this big pile of stuff? In the toybox?”

“It couldn’t be anywhere else… maybe his room, but besides that, nowhere else.”

“His room?” The words of a question, but the tone and Kel’s face said otherwise. “After all that searching in their storage room, and here… hmm. You put a lot of thought into this.” He smiled knowingly.

Basil acknowledged the look with a nod. “Thought I’d find it by now.” he said glumly.

“No rush, I don’t think Sunny’ll be needing it back anytime soon.”

Oh? You have something there?

Now and then, Basil could hear his own voice— his old voice— light and airy, whispering like the wind that carried it. He was peppier then; and, annoying as it was to remember, he poked and prodded Sunny just as curiously as Kel was prodding him now. His memory supplemented what he heard and saw next: the shuffling of paper that followed, and the wide-eyed stare that Sunny gave him.

Nothing. Sunny quickly whipped his hands behind his back, but there was a little *thunk!* as a ballpen rolled to a stop just past where his body could hide it.

Writing something?

“You're thinking about it now, aren't you?” asked Kel.

“Yes I am.” Two different questions, but their answers were one and the same, Sunny's and his.

“Is it something I know about already?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Not unless I talk in my sleep."

“Try me.”

One couldn't imagine how relieved the trio were when the lock opened; the metallic *Tchik!* that followed was music to their ears. They practically collapsed as soon as they pushed through the front door, their strength sapping as soon as they were inside. They all muttered words of thanks— not for the warmth, for it wasn't any warmer, but for the protection from the wind. It couldn't very well follow them inside, so long as they closed the door, which they promptly did. With what remained of their strength, and after shaking off the snow that matted onto their clothes, they scattered about the living room: Mari to the fireplace, and Aubrey to the center couches for a brief respite.

"Jesus." she said, quietly to herself as she fell in a heap over one arm of the couch, draped over like an old coat for some time, but she was up as soon as she could feel her toes again. Mari meanwhile struck a shaky match, and soon they had a modest flame licking around the firewood.

"Shit."

The two girls turned to the source of the expletive. It was Hero; he stood by the sliding glass doors that led to the treehouse. Pale moonlight streamed through, illuminating the contour of his face. Even then she could see the way it tensed up with every slow blink of his eyes, an astonishing mix of fear and fury. It was the snow he was snarling at, that enough was clear, how it piled up against the door and stuck to it most terribly. It was going to be a great effort to pull the door open, and he called her over for assistance.

They heaved and heaved, the snow keeping its stubborn hold till the bitter end. And to the end they took it, till it finally shuttered open in grating protest. In one final act of revenge, the snow avalanched over their shoes. Aubrey swore in turn. The incoming draft extinguished their warmth from the fireplace and Mari grumbled with an expletive of her own. All three of them got their two cents in.

“I dunno,” Basil said again, like some catchphrase, “It doesn't seem right to bring it up. It’s been too long.”

“That should make it easier to talk about, no?”

“It’s something of his, that's what I’m worried about. I don't want want to air his dirty laundry.”

“Sunny? Dirty laundry?” Kel said in high-pitched incredulity.

“Private stuff, you know. It just seems… invasive.”

“Couldn't be any worse than what we've done already, rummaging through all his stuff.” Kel chuffed, amused. “And you say it like you have it.”

“Well, I know it.”

“That's not the same.”

“But it feels the same.” A reflexive grimace tugged his cheeks now. “I promised him, you know.”

“Not to tell another soul?”

Sunny had beckoned him closer, and there it was, not quite finished. He rolled the pen back to its proper place at the center of the table; everything else was scattered in the periphery: an envelope, some tape, a pair of scissors, and a sheet of pink sticker paper; he'd drawn a pattern on it to cut out later: a perfect heart.

Basil nodded.

The sun had finally slipped over the horizon; until then, they had welcomed its residual glow, grateful for the rays that slipped in through the cracks— even with the horrible wind that followed it. And with it gone, so did any semblance of warmth. The only heat they felt now was the burn in their muscles, the strain in their arms and legs. There comes a point in any exertion where any pretense of stability is lost, tossed aside like the liability it really is. When energy becomes a dear resource, all bets are off.

The two held on for dear life. They were still as statues holding up that carpet; let go now, and they weren't sure they had the flexibility to drop down and lift it up again. They were good as dead if that ever came to pass, frozen solid.

Stiff as they already were, that'd make them a different kind of stiff.

Kel spoke first, teeth chattering as the temperature continued to plunge. "On the bright side, we're in this together, working as a team. Imagine if I came here alone, I'd be a goner!"

"I... can't tell if that's supposed to be optimistic."

"If you're doing some of that thinking again, I'm gonna tell you now, your brain will fall out if you do any more of that."

"It's not my brain I'm worried about." The carpet rustled as Basil shifted his weight from foot to foot. He had his elbows gripped onto the walls for support for God knows how long, and still they jittered and shook. Not a single joint in his body was spared from this fate; they ached in protest. "Everyone must be so worried." He sharply drew a breath in. "Grandma..."

"Chin up! We'll get out of this. I... I'm sure we will. They must've sent someone."

"I just hope they find us quick enough."

Hero was the first to venture once more into the cold; Aubrey was just a step behind. Snow shifted and crunched with each step. It seemed an endless trudge through a sea of white, but this was nothing compared to the journey thus far. Across the backyard and through a clearing in the trees was the treehouse: slow going, but they got there. The boys were still okay, or so Aubrey hoped. Only one way to find out.

She felt around, grasping through the fog. One step forward with each swipe, she soon scratched her fingertips against the tree bark. "I can't see the ladder! Hero, anything?"

"I built it myself... rope and wood... it's supposed to be right here. Must be flapping around with all this wind."

They redoubled their efforts, searching high and low, even around the tree itself. A ladder as conspicuous as that wasn't supposed to be hard to find; fog be damned, they had their noses right where it used to be.

Aubrey stamped her foot, grumbling. Hard resistance and a sharp pain shot where her boot went through the snow. As Aubrey recoiled, and before he could even get a glimpse of what she struck, Hero's face flashed with recognition.

"You can't be serious." he said with a groan. Another second and he was on his knees, digging at the spot Aubrey was happy to vacate. With a determined "Ahah!" he shot to his feet, but the rush was short-lived. He caught Aubrey's eye and two simply stared; the boys were in more trouble than they first thought.

"J-Just a l-little more, man. I-I think I can hear them outside."

Kel's voice shook, but it was just as strong as it usually was. It kicked clouds of condensation out of his mouth, and he shook his head to clear it all. Basil nodded along, though he only got half of it. The wind was far too strong, and his ears were far too weak. His mind filled in the gaps, but not for much longer he feared.

"S-Still with me, Basil?"

He attempted another nod and mumbled in affirmative, numb all over and much too stiff to even shrug. He was sure Kel was saying more than that— he was moving his mouth— but there were no sounds that followed. It took another minute of staring blankly at his friend before it was clear to him that his senses were shot.

That wouldn't do at all, he thought. He blinked out the little spots in his vision, shook the pins and needles in his limbs.

He exhaled clouds of his own. They rose, wisping up and out of the room, slipping though the gaps in their carpet seal.

Frankly, it wasn't a very good seal at all. It was blowing like a sail, ballooning really. They'd braced the sides with their bodies, and their backs bore the brunt of the inbound wind.

Numb as it was, his back hurt.

He squeezed his eyes shut; his head squeezed too, like he was wearing a circlet a size too small.

Kel was faring better he hoped.

He couldn't tell.

Just needed a think, really, his head. Food for thought, or something. Liven things up.

Throat too dry to make conversation, maybe he could think to himself, so he sat and had a thought.

It wasn't a very long thought.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?!" cried Kel. Basil was sharp as tacks for just a moment, straightening up just in time for the carpet— missing one guiding hand— to whip across his right side with a terrifying crack. Basil rolled from the impact; Kel flinched as he knocked into his leg. His friend was halfway through a reproachful caution when his own grip failed.

The carpet flew across the room; Basil didn't remember much more after that.

Chapter Text

"Broken?" that was all Mari could say. She was sitting by the fireplace, contented with her handiwork, before Hero and Aubrey stumbled back inside. Bolting to her feet, she assisted them, pulling in some seats, and, setting them by the fire, insisted they sit. They obliged. It was Hero mainly that relayed the account of their brief excursion; Aubrey remained tight-lipped even as he said the last of his piece, a question.

"Nothing we can do about fixing it now. Do you have another ladder in here somewhere we can use?"

She shook her head. "Stepladders, but it won't get you high enough." The house had little in the way of repair tools. Her father had little use for them, never the handy type; the closest he ever got was changing a few lightbulbs here and there, thus the stepladders, but nothing more. He was otherwise too swamped by work for pursuits like that.

"Shit... alright." Mari didn't like the look on Hero's face; it was the look he gave her in the cemetery, a gloomy steel that bore a hole through her chest. She grimaced in turn. That, he didn't seem to notice, and he went on. "Wait here. I'll get ours."

Venturing out again, braving the frost and gale: that was his idea. It was the only viable one they had, loath though Mari was to admit it. And lives were still on the line; leaving the boys to freeze any longer was a terrible thought. She didn't have much of a rebuttal with that little detail hanging over them, and Aubrey had nothing to say besides. With no protests, Hero's idea stood, and he was off. She said the usual warnings before he left, but God knows she'll have to say it again soon enough. He tried to put on some smile of reassurance, but it rang hollow at best.

"I'll be back before you know it."

"You better be." Hero pulled the door open and the wind roared as it rushed in, whipping around him as he bid a hasty goodbye. A stark silence fell as the door closed behind him. The wind was gone as fast as it appeared, but Mari still shivered in the chill it left in its wake.

Beckoning her softly from the other end of the room was the fire she was so proud of, a paltry consolation perhaps. Mari tarried a moment to steady her breathing before she turned away from the front door; Aubrey hadn't moved an inch from her perch by the fireplace. Indeed, the only thing she could hear from her was the rythmn of slow breathing. Four seconds inhale, four seconds exhale, chest rising and falling in and endless loop. There were telltale hard lines, of furrowed brows and gritted teeth; far from the facade of calm collection she hoped to show, this was something Aubrey was forcing on herself, mindfully away from the natural urge to hyperventilate.

"Hey, hey." Mari said on her approach, taking on that motherly tone she used so often in years past. She took a spot on Aubrey's left and put a hand on her lap. "Everything will be alright. Hero will be back with the ladder, and we'll get Kel and Basil down, I promise."

As smooth as the words came out, she knew she was out of practice. Her vocabulary hadn't aged in all those years; maybe she was being woefully out of touch with her now-older target audience. And maybe she was right, there was not a word out of Aubrey. The hard lines on the girl's face creased deeper as she looked away.

"I mean it, just a little bit longer now before we see their smiles again— after we defrost them, of course."

Aubrey stared ahead, expression unchanged from before; Mari swallowed the lump in her throat. She took to rubbing circles on Aubrey's lap; with it she gave a small smile. A minute more of this, and nothing; Aubrey wouldn't even look at her. Maybe she was overstepping, maybe not, Aubrey wasn't likely to tell her the way things were at the moment. With a final squeeze, she lifted her hand.

"No." Aubrey's hand slapped down on Mari's, forcing it back on her lap and rousing Mari from the forlorn stupor she found herself in. Aubrey's hands were cold as ice, even after all that time by the fire, and shivered as such. "Sorry."

"What for?"

"For that," she squeezed Mari's hand back, "and for being so pushy earlier. The thought of sitting pretty and doing nothing, while B-... while they were in danger, or worse: it just didn't sit right with me." Mari knew now it wasn't disdain at all that wracked Aubrey's mind, as she feared, but frustration and embarrassment. "I thought if I could hurry us up, we'd be up there in no time and they'd be safe. Some good that did us."

"It got us here in the end, that's what matters. I felt the same way, and I'm sure Hero did too. He was out the door so quick I could hardly catch up."

Aubrey frowned and looked away. "I guess I'll have to apologize to him too. He's been a big help."

"You too." Mari couldn't help but smile reassuringly, though a voice in her head railed against it, and surfaced fears that the smile rang as hollow as Hero's. She did her beat to swat the thought down like the pest it was.

"Help how? I was just loud and a bother. I want to do all I can for them but... I'm not doing anything useful." Aubrey leaned forward, and her eyes twinkled in the flickering glow of the fire.

"Nonsense, you had just the spirit we needed. Our best..." Mari leaned and turned to meet her gaze, "moral support?"

There it was, finally: Aubrey had a smile on, just barely. "Did Basil tell you about that?"

"No more than a few times, but he beamed every time he brought it up."

"Oh." Maybe it was just the fire's glow again, but there was a ruddy warmth on Aubrey's cheeks. There were wavering bits of a wider smile, though she could only frown by the end of it. "He said all that?"

"He believes in you. Take some of it to heart."

"Maybe. I'm just scared, you know?"

"They'll be alright."

"We have to be sure. After... what happened, I want to keep things as they are. Us." She squeezed Mari's hand again. "I missed you, you know?" It'd been half a year since she got reaquainted with her now-teal ribboned friend, and Aubrey got used to saying that in all manner of ways.

"I know that now. I missed you too."

There was a great big groan at the other end of the room; it was Hero, pushing on the other side with all his might. The door flew open— all well and good— but ladder in tow, he needed their help for the rest. Snatching coats and blankets on the way, the two bounded across; Mari kept the door open while Aubrey and Hero worked the ladder through. The roles were just the same once they got to the sliding glass doors, and into the breach they went once more.

After the relative calm of the fireplace, it was hard to get used to all the noise again; it was that, more than the cold, that bothered Mari most. It hardly gave space for thought. Hauling the ladder slowed the lifting two to a crawl, and, by the end of it, Mari lifted her fair share too. They pushed on, into the backyard and through the trees.

"Basil!" cried Aubrey once they got to the base of the treehouse, finally free of her ladder load. She cupped her hands around her mouth and said the name over and over. "Kel!" too, she added every so often. Her voice was hopelessly dulled by the storm, but she kept at it. The ladder was heaved and hoisted until it rested against the tree. The snow braced it on either side, but that was no guarantee of safety.

"I'll hold it." said Hero, and he nodded for them to go without him. It was a disorienting climb, but they were up soon enough, Aubrey, and then Mari. It was Kel they saw first.

"H-Hey..." He blinked slowly, staring, first at Mari, and then at Aubrey. "I k-knew you... you'd..." He made an effort to stand, raising his arms, but his legs didn't follow.

"Not another word, Kel. Let's get you wrapped up." Mari wrapped her own coat around him; it was too small, and he couldn't slip his arms through the sleeves, so he wore it more like a shawl, around his neck and upper chest. He could hardly stand on his own and she held him up to keep his legs from buckling.

Despite her words, Kel spoke anyway, though they were little more than fragments by then. "Mmh," He pointed off to a dark mound on the other end of the treehouse. "There." he managed.

Golden hair stuck out from one end of the mound. That, and his words, were all Aubrey needed to know. It was Basil, pale and shivering. He was wrapped around what looked to be the treehouse carpet; Aubrey unrolled it, heaving, and the boy was free. He lay limp and unmoving.

"Basil? Hey... Basil, wake up." Aubrey said, slowly at first. She pulled him into a tight embrace, pulling just strong enough to get him in a sat-up position. "Basil please." and she shook him, "wake up!" louder and louder.

Wake up! Please...

Mari looked away.

"Let's get you down." she said, instead, to Kel; anything to keep herself present, and occupied. But Kel resisted every step with the last of his strength, shaking his head as soon as she stopped to look. He dropped to his knees, pulling her down with him, and tried fruitlessly to shake her off. She complied, and he pointed across the room.

"Him first." It was far too soon to see something like that again, but Mari steeled herself to look. Aubrey gripped Basil by the armpits in her attempts to lift him. The leverage and her strength wasn't enough, so all her pulling did little to get him off the ground.

Mari put a steady hand on Kel's shoulder. "Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Alright. Hang in there now." and he smiled weakly.

The girls got to work lifting Basil, with Mari on one end, and Aubrey on the other. In the end, it was just like their efforts with the ladder, and they got him to the door. Getting him down— that took a thought.

To get him down, Aubrey descended first, rung by rung, holding his legs, while Mari stayed up, and gently lowered him by the arms. It was slow work, but it had to be. One misstep was enough to send them falling to grave injury. It was just as well that Hero split the load with Aubrey once they were low enough to reach.

"W-Will he be okay?" It was the most Kel had spoken in a while. Far from his usual bravado, his voice shook, and Mari suspected it wasn't just from the cold.

"We'll have to warm him up slowly, but he'll be right as rain once that's all done." It was her own hopes, of course, and it was a touch optimistic. Kel was older now, and she didn't need to mince words. "But we won't know for sure until then." she cautioned.

Down below, Hero and Aubrey had a brief exchange. The distance and the wind made it impossible to make out the words, but they tugged Basil, gently, back and forth between themselves. Mari wondered why they wouldn't just carry him together.

"Aubrey always had to fight." she muttered to herself.

"Only because it's Basil they're arguing about." Kel was right next to her, having made a slow but sure crawl over to where she was, by the door overlooking the yard below.

"You shouldn't be talking, you know?"

"I'm wrapped up, I'm feeling better."

They stayed there a while, waiting for the other two to be done with their discussion.

"What makes you say that, the Basil thing?"

"Aubrey's always been... nostalgic. I think you know what I mean."

After... what happened, I want to keep things as they are.

"I know that now."

But the two below had their dispute resolved, and they disappeared together with Basil in tow; they compromised it seemed. She and Kel halted their conversation and lay in wait. It didn't take long for them to come back. A similar plan was hatched for Kel's descent; it went quicker, for he could move under his own power. A little more and they would be safe by the fire again; Mari could hardly wait.

Hero and Aubrey hadn't bothered to close the glass doors, but they were all too cold to care, what mattered was that they shut it as soon as all were inside. Mari released a breath she didn't know she was holding.

But, there was still work to be done, and people to tend to. Basil was safe in Aubrey's arms, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

Chapter Text

The living room was a hub of activity, with the sound of footsteps pattering everywhere; these four walls hadn't seen anything of its kind in a long while. Mari disappeared into the kitchen, and Kel curled by the fire with a blanket around him. The only one who wasn't moving was Basil, still unconscious: for how long, Hero didn't know.

Aubrey was rather still too, if only because Basil lay limp in her arms— a good thing really, for he hadn't gone stiff yet. It was a miracle they got him out when they did. All he could do now was give him a once-over, assess his condition and how he was holding up.

A breathing check was unnecessary, thankfully; Aubrey'd already checked for that as soon as Basil was brought in. With that basic necessity accounted for, "Arm." he said instead, and Aubrey lifted Basil's up to him. Pressing his fingers onto his wrist, he found a steady, but slow pulse. Hypothermia was certain— he was out there in the elements long enough— but it was the mild sort from what he could tell, though unconsciousness was a rare symptom, odd.

"Is he alright?" asked Kel. It was the first he'd spoken since he entered the house.

"I don't know yet." No thanks to you. he thought, and wanted to add, but he held his tongue.

He checked the skin again. Though it was still cold to the touch, it had decent give, suppleness. That was a good sign, but if he wanted to be certain, he needed more than firelight to see things properly. He went to turn the electric lights on before conducting any further examination.

Returning to the couches, he examined the color and found it a rather pale pallor, but crucially, not grey as he'd feared. No frostbite then, just a bad nipping from the cold. Gradual rewarming, and plenty of rest would do him some good— Basil was a stellar patient, already doing the latter, and he entrusted the former to Aubrey.

Basil was safe, for now. Free from that task, there were some new questions bothering him. With Basil tentatively on the mend, he had one more patient to triage, and they had the answers he needed. He crouched on his approach.

"You're looking better." he said, a tempered steel lacing his tongue. He was relieved, of course, to see his brother well— he did a poor job of it these days, but he was still his older brother— however, the sight of the unconscious blond did more to shape the words in his mouth than his brotherly instincts.

Kel mumbled a quick reply. "Fire'll do that." It was a tarter response than he was used to, shorter too. Perhaps Kel had some venom of his own. Hero nodded for silence as he began his examination. As with Basil, he checked his vitals, and for external injury, but he knew from the start Kel was much better off than Basil: he was conscious for a start; that was telling enough on its own. After all he had to do to get them down from the treehouse, Hero wasn't much in the mood for sarcasm.

"You were outside for the biggest snowstorm of the year, out much longer than you needed to be."

"The ladder broke, what do you want us to do, jump?"

"It was irresponsible to go up there in the first place." Prevention was worth more than a thousand cures; he chided Kel about it more than enough times; he was frankly surprised it didn't stick. "How'd you even get there? The house was locked before we got here."

"They hopped the fence." It was another voice, Aubrey's.

"What?"

"Probably," she prefaced, "up and over, like we used to, going on grand adventures." she'd wrapped Basil in a blanket in the time since he'd last checked on them, stroking the boy's hair gently with a small, wistful smile on her face. "Kel was always the fastest one over."

Kel chimed in. "What can I say, I'm a good climber. Funnily enough, you were the slowest."

"Basil'd be the slowest if he played along." she mumbled under her breath, a pout puffing her cheeks.

It was a comforting memory, perhaps, but with it the two drifted further from the crux of the conversation. They went on, trading barbs for a while. Through all of it Hero held his tongue; it wasn't his place to butt in, at least not yet.

"It's not his kind of fun, fine by me, but I got him to give it a go this time. He was... decently fast."

The tale went on with lively descriptions, detailed enough to form a rudimentary image in Hero's mind: the two boys clambering over the fence, snow pelting around them; that and more. He wasn't up the treehouse during their rescue, but an active imagination was more than enough to draw a new mental picture.

"It was your idea I hear, visiting the treehouse." he said finally, frowning. It wasn't enough for Kel to risk his own safety; he had to drag Basil along with him. The way he was when they found him— any later, and it could've all spiraled out of their control.

Kel glared at him from the corners of his eyes. "Basil said yes." he said, like it did anything to absolve him of responsibility.

"I didn't say anything about Basil."

"Don't need to say anything, I know where you're going with this. What's so wrong with a little exploration?"

"Exploration? What're you exploring? You know what's up there. Nothing's moved since..." Hero pressed his lips shut; the fire crackled between the silence. Basil's limp body, he didn't need a mental picture for that, nor did the other thing that popped into view.

"Since... " It wasn't a question; Kel folded his hands together and looked away, brows furrowed as his features hardened. "We were just trying to get some o'that back, going through memory lane. You wouldn't believe what we found," he said, chuckling, in a short aside to Aubrey, "You remember that stuffed toy you used to have?"

"Mr. Plantegg, he's up there?" The girl sat up abruptly, as far up as she could— Basil's limp body still keeping her from doing anything too animated. "I didn't notice. Shame, I would've gotten it down."

"There's always next time, we'll come back up for it."

Next time? Kel wasn't being serious, surely. "You could've died, you know? And you're thinking about going back?" said Hero. He narrowed his eyes at his brother, who merely stared at the fire. "Again, irresponsible."

"Sure, but you can be less mean about it."

"Well, I can't." he said, and it wasn't just to be contrarian. "Look. Look at Basil." he growled, and put words to his thoughts. "It's bad enough you're risking yourself, you had to be... stupid enough to endanger someone else!"

"Stupid...stupid huh?" Kel's gaze was sharper still.

"I expected better."

"Better, like I should've known this, I should've known that, I should open up my third fucking eye! Like I should've guessed the ladder would die on me and Basil."

"No, it's like I was saying-"

"You aren't saying anything! You think I wanted to get Basil hurt? No! Who did you think rolled Basil up in that carpet? I'm not blind, I could see what was happening to him, and I feel horrible!" An explosion of emotion; any words he had in store died in his mouth. "But fine, hindsight! I keep getting into stupid messes because I'm stupid, and people get hurt. It's my fault! There, happy?!" Kel threw the blanket off his back, inching closer to him with every sentence. "But what gives you the right..." he said with a quiet hiss, face pressed right against his with only an inch of separation. "After all this time, what makes you think you can just walk back in to tell me off? Why do you care now?" Hero's vision blurred as black eyes bore holes into his. It was the angriest he'd ever seen him.

He held on for a minute, periphery pulsing and swirling as he locked gaze with Kel's; his brother's eyes glistened with tears in the firelight, and the hard lines melted as his lips loosened their taut grip. He could almost handle the stern look, he knew well enough that Kel couldn't hold it for very long, but that look that followed since-shattered bravado was rarer still. Hero promptly fled from it, eyes off searching for friendlier faces.

He found the couches again; Aubrey's face was hardly the reprieve he needed— her eyes were softer, kinder perhaps, but she shook her head. She couldn't, or more likely, wouldn't, help him. Fine by him, what did she know anyway? He could only return to Kel after that.

Steeling up for his next words, he said, "I'm your brother," but he was losing him by the second, "it's my job to look after you," Kel shook his head with every word, "so if I sound mad, it's just because I'm worried about you." It wasn't what he wanted at all; Kel looked sorry, but he shrank away bit by bit, pushing away his bangs to rub his forehead ruefully, still shaking his damned head.

"No, no. Not doing a good job of that. Shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have..." Kel said it in a low mutter. Hero, or himself; it wasn't clear at all who it was meant for, "I..." His eyes, locked to the floor until then, now stood transfixed at a spot just past Hero: Mari, who tried in vain to flee back into the kitchen.

"Wh...What is this?"

"Nothing." said Kel. His lips trembled as he curled them up forcefully, to unconvincing effect. "Where were you?"

"Kitchen, telephone..." she shook her head, "Nevermind that. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

Walking past Kel— past him for that matter— to retrieve the boy's blanket from the floor, "Cold'll do that," she said, wrapping it around Kel again. "I'll get the beds ready for us upstairs?" Hero had the strangest feeling he was being ignored.

"Maybe I should stay down here, can't leave Basil here."

"Can't leave me here either, you mean." said Aubrey. Poor thing, she was still tethered.

"Both. Going up without you two, it's not right. We can have a sleepover down here, next to the fire, like old times. Mari?" He stared expectantly, for once in wait for permission.

Maybe he could get a word in, Hero thought. "We could still bunk upstairs. Basil'll need a proper bed to rest-"

"I'll get the futons." said Mari. "We'll manage."

"Who's the doctor here?"

"Nevermind that, and you're not one yet," she rose to leave, "come on, Kel, let's get things ready."

"Ma-"

"Hero please." It was that look again; she had the gall to pair it with a demure smile. A throat lump-forming pest; he kept his mouth shut. "Now, the treehouse, tell me all about it..." she said to Kel, this time as they made their way to the stairs in the next room. Every so often, his brother would turn back and peek a glance; Hero didn't know why. Their voices waned to a slow silence.

Chapter Text

It was a strange feeling that stirred in Basil's chest: subtle heat and acid in equal measure, like some mischievous heartburn. The former would be a relief if not for the latter; they balanced each other in that sick way. It kept him on his toes, heightening his senses, and there was plenty to sense.

Balmy wind whistled around him, tickling his ears as the ambiance of forest spilled from all sides. He was in their secret spot, their lakeside hangout, kicking his feet over crystal-blue water; it sparkled as the sun blazed overhead, hot as a summer day. Closing his eyes, he took it all in, all of those feelings inside and out.

The feeling continued to tickle him in all the wrong ways; that, and everything else. None of it was right, of course, not one line. The forest buzzed with life and sound, like it did in lazy, summer afternoons— last he checked, they were deep in December, and though the lake was always a crisp blue, it wasn't always water. It was one of their great winter discoveries long ago, the field of thin ice it turned into, though any plans to skate over it were quickly squashed by more sensible minds. Ruminating these details was revelation enough; the strange feeling had an easy name once he could place it: lucidity. Common in life, it was less so in dreams, and this was a dream, no doubt about it.

Dreams are a funny thing, pictures formed and reformed from an endless cache of fact and fiction, real and unreal, a wealth of possibility and permutation. Basil wondered why then, of all the fantastical things it could be, did it default to the real. Not bent and warped by whim as it should, they seemed as certain as memory: flawed, perhaps, but a startlingly good substitute nonetheless.

Even funnier still, he felt the urge to pinch himself, and he did. That, and realizing that he was in a dream, was usually enough to get him to wake up, but he didn't. If it was any consolation, there wasn't any pain, thankfully; none of it was real enough for his brain to comprehend, perhaps. Robbed of that exit, he took to skipping pebbles across the lake to pass the time; the seconds, minutes, hours were no more real than everything else, but their passage was, or felt so. He kept on it a long while.

Kel's voice echoed in the wind some time later, whistling like his memories did up in the treehouse. "You're getting better at this!" it said in wild excess. It meant the stone-skipping, he figured, but the real Kel said much the same on many occasions. Even when they were helplessly trapped up there in the treehouse, clutching their carpet lifeline on either side. Though lost then in the deluge of other words of encouragement, he was surprised to remember it now so distinctly.

"How so?" he queried back, "Things are staying as they are. I'm the same old Basil." He shrugged, musing aloud to himself. "People keep saying I'm getting better, but what does that mean?" He thumbed over a particularly smooth stone in his hand, playing with its glint in the sunlight. He pitched it into the water, where it impacted with a plop. "I didn't even get the toy box open; going up there was a waste of time."

"It wasn't, you found things." A new voice, one he knew very well, his pier partner's. Wood creaked underfoot as he took his spot beside him.

Basil stifled a sad smile. "They weren't what I had in mind." he said, tossing another stone overboard. The ripples did well to muddle his reflection, and that of his companion. The smudge of his jet-black hair was all he could make out; it was all he could bear to see.

There was a thoughtful pause; Basil languished in the suspense. Even in his dreams was Sunny a boy of few words— and just as well, it was the only Sunny he ever knew.

"Did it make you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Good times."

*Plop!* went another stone; he was sure he'd have run out by now, but it helped dull the silence in the meantime. "Good times?" He had some in recent years, but they were nothing compared to the good of three years ago. He was certainly remembering them now. "I guess so."

"Then it wasn't a waste of time."

Sunny was always an encouraging friend, though he rarely spoke to that effect. He did more with his presence than his mouth; with him there, it always felt like he had your back. That's what set this apparition apart from the real thing, but that was as far as he'd take his complaints; it was good to hear his voice again.

"I had higher hopes." Basil mumbled just to get the thought off his chest, but quietly, in the hopes it wouldn't be heard.

"Good thing you didn't find it." Sunny was back to his usual hush; Basil could hear his cheeks burning. He finally dared a peek and saw the scarlet hues. It was like his friend could read his mind, though he supposed this Sunny would have that luxury.

"I wish I did, it'll make things so much easier."

Sunny did something rarer still; he laughed, very briefly. "It's a tricky problem, no?" He'd know, wouldn't he? It was now a problem they shared. Surely he took some mischievous pleasure out of watching him squirm; Basil just knew he had a self-satisfied smile on. It was karmic justice at its finest; he'd give him that.

Did it make him regret those months of teasing Sunny? Hardly. Good times, it was another one of those.

"Understatement of the century." he conceded. "You'd know. That was brave, writing it."

"You look so worried about it."

"The letter?" Basil'd never seen it finished; he teased, sure, but he felt kind enough to leave Sunny to it. "No," he wasn't worried, "more hopeful, that it'd set me straight, bring me to my senses."

"Oh?"

"Just seems wrong. Knowing how you feel, I can't do that to you."

Sunny's arm crossed over him, quick as a flash, reaching for a stone. "I have no claim," he said, chucking it in with finesse; it skipped a few times before plopping in, "no more than anyone else." He leaned to retrieve a second stone, and had one in hand soon enough, but he didn't move back as expected; his head turned instead to face him.

Black eyes peered through unruly bangs; they lingered on for just a moment.

"I just can't." That was all he could say. "It was supposed to be you... and Aubrey."

"That's her decision to make. And it's too late."

"If she read the letter, she'd think... a certain way, wouldn't she? It'll be like you never left." He could see it now, the rustling, the tears, but there'd be a smile there; he was sure of it.

Sunny paused mid-throw. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"This isn't about me."

"It's your feelings." Sunny countered, winding back for another go. The stone soon went flying through the air. "I can't do anything about mine, but you can."

"That sounds like stealing."

"It's hard to steal something I never owned." said Sunny. It was hard to say much more after that, and they took turns lobbing the rest of the stones into the lake.

Try as he might, Basil couldn't count how long they stayed there on the pier in silence. Sunny went back to his usual unreadable mood, something Basil was all too happy to emulate for himself. Minutes? Hours? Hell, centuries? All he knew was with another *Plop!*, the last stone they had was gone. The silence had gone on for so long that it was Sunny that spoke first.

"You're... stubborn. What you're doing is sabotage; you know that, right?"

"It's for the best."

"For you? Aubrey?"

"Both."

"And if she had feelings?" Sunny prodded.

"She couldn't possibly." He flushed at the thought, but it was little more than that, a thought.

"There's only one way to be sure."

Basil scoffed. "That's laying it on thick. I'll have to do some consulting first."

Stone-faced at first, Sunny soon had a knowing glint in his eyes. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "He won't be as talkative as I have been. But, if you're sure..." He scootched back and lay on the pier, arms over his head.

"I'm sure." said Basil, and he followed suit, staring into the sky above. Pillows of clouds rolled across that sea of blue; the sun was somewhere behind all that, flickering little indications through the gaps. "That's that." He said his piece.

"I guess so." And Sunny said his.

Dreams were always an odd thing; you think you'd know everything about them by now, but perhaps like the life they emulate, they find ways to surprise with their web of contradictions. Fickle, but familiar: Basil wouldn't have it any other way. He watched as the cloudscapes cleared away and the sun blazed full force; it was a terrible scatter of white, he could only squint in return. That was the end of it; vision blurring and the sound fading from his ears, he braced for the jolt of waking up.

Blinding white made way to the warm glow of fluorescent lights, and from another source, just outside his view. He was lying in the living room of Mari's house, safely rescued from the looks of things. "Good." he muttered quietly to himself. So it really was a dream; seeing Sunny like that— for a moment, he feared he was actually dead. Tense muscles in his neck loosened in relief, though it ached with a dull throb, making him groan. It was only when he rolled to his left side, turning to find that the other light source was the fireplace, that he found why his neck hurt as such.

Two great bumps obscured his view; knees of course from the lap his head was on.

He rolled back and looked up properly this time. He couldn't help but stare at Aubrey's sleeping face; this was his second time now sleeping in her arms like this, if Kel's accounts of the first time were to be believed— back in that old, harrowing moment just after his grandmother was first hospitalized. Two years had passed since then; distracted by the chaos of the moment, he could only be flustered in retrospect. Too much was happening then.

Sadly for him, there wasn't much going on these days; he could be flustered right out of the gate. He could feel the heat, and it wasn't from the fireplace. Maybe it was all his stirring in the moments following this realization, but Aubrey's eyelids began to flutter. Panicking, Basil froze and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey, you're finally awake. Had a good nap?" Basil opened his eyes to find Aubrey smiling at him, a soft gaze blessing her countenance.

He lingered for just a moment more on her lap. "I did, thanks to you." he said before sitting up straight. "I should stop waking up like this."

"You don't like it?" He could hear the pout in her voice; he turned to sit properly and leaned forward, hands propped on his lap.

"That's twice now I've fainted. If I stopped doing that, I might like this more."

"I'll hold you to that," she stifled a giggle as she went on, "but in all seriousness, I'm glad you're alright. I wouldn't know what I'd do if you weren't."

"Thanks for looking for me."

"Heh, why wouldn't I? We have to stick together, you know? Hero and Mari too."

"And Kel."

"Of course," she mumbled in a sanguine drawl, "but you two stuck together all evening— stuck up in the treehouse, I mean. It took the three of us to get both of you down."

"I'll have to thank them too," said Basil, quietly to himself; they must've had a great deal of grief lugging him dead-weight in that weather, "and apologize for all the trouble."

"You'll get the chance to do that." Aubrey looked around before getting onto her feet. "They must be in the kitchen." And how her stomach grumbled— mad at Aubrey, and perhaps mad at him too for keeping her so occupied.

"You haven't eaten any dinner?"

"I thought it might wake you up. I mean, I would've liked you to wake up, but waking you up myself might've stopped you from getting better..." she went on for a few more seconds, mumbling rapid explanation, before her stomach grumbled once more, silencing the both of them.

"I don't mind either way." he said, chuckling. "I should be the one making excuses." he followed suit, standing.

Aubrey tried and failed to hide an embarrassed smile. "Oh, alright then." and they made their way to the kitchen. "I hope you found what you were looking for," she said, "you know, in the treehouse. Kel said something about it, I dunno."

"I think I did." said Basil as he beamed at her.

Chapter Text

Basil was awake. Hero was certain he'd be asleep for a little while longer, but in he went through the kitchen door, Aubrey in tow. Mari quite excitedly beckoned him to the table, and he obliged, and quickly too. Evidently, the nap gave him a boon of energy, and then some, for no sooner had the boy taken a seat did he start a rapid-fire speech. In the jumble of words, there were words of thanks for the rescue, and apologies too, for the trouble— or so he said— all in the same breath.

Frankly, it was a head-scratching combination; the thanks he could get— the apology, not so much. Kel was more to blame for the predicament they found themselves in. Indeed, Kel was the first to rise, walking over and sheepishly admitting as much to Basil with his usual smile. Basil went on, however, and said so much so quickly Hero feared he might faint from lack of oxygen. It took Aubrey squeezing his shoulders from behind, gently of course, to stop that outpouring. He was plenty embarrassed by the end of it, apologizing again, though he realized the irony of it mid-sentence once Aubrey cracked an amused giggle.

They were there for more than apologies, if the grumbling of their stomachs was any indication. It was just as well; he already had a quick vegetable soup prepared. It was a paltry alternative to what Polly had simmering in her pressure cooker, but it kept the pangs at bay all the same. He'd had his fill, and so did Mari and Kel, but there was enough left over to satisfy the hungry duo: a remarkable show of restraint by his brother, admittedly, though it proved short-lived. Kel roared to life snatching seconds once they scooped their portions.

Aubrey, to her credit, didn't let him take any more than she allowed, and wolfed down in pace with him. There were a few photo finish moments when they'd reach for the ladle at the same time, and one would take it just a hair before the other would. It made for a puzzling competition of sorts; the two always found something to spar with.

In stark contrast sat Basil, who ate contentedly, but more importantly, silently. He followed the action with just his eyes, pointing them at Kel for one moment, then Aubrey, and back again. Every so often, Aubrey would catch his gaze, and he'd look away, smiling, and stuff himself with soup. It wasn't the first time Hero'd seen something like it; he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

Unfortunately for the competing two, their match ended in a stalemate: they'd run out of soup to compete with. And so they went to talking— again, like old times. Hero couldn't help but watch, as he did in their last meal together. Basil soon joined them, and eventually, even Mari.

They were really back, weren't they? Chatting away like nothing ever happened, blissful in their willing ignorance. Their voices circled around him, but never at him; in this dance of anecdotes and inside jokes he had little place, or no place at all.

Choice words bubbled up his throat like acid, he was their friend too, wasn't he? But, wisely, he kept his mouth shut, gritting his teeth together like some shield. He brought it on himself after staying away for all that time, pushing them away. Open his mouth now, and all they'll get is venom. His anger cooled from the begrudging hesitation.

If anything, he was supposed to be surprised they weren't any colder, though he hadn't the space in his heart to feel that gratitude. Crossed and locked arms was all he could manage; he leaned back helplessly on his seat as they spared him the odd look. Mari's looked the kindest, but he knew from the sharp glint in her eyes that she was still upset with him.

In time, idle chatter made way for something with a little more focus; Kel took center stage narrating the things he did that day. Hero rolled his eyes; those events recounted were precisely the cause of all their trouble today, but if there was something Kel was good at, it was making light of a terrible day. He listened on.

Mari's house: so they did hop the fence; Basil looked away as Kel described their trespassing with rather colorful language— how they scaled the fence, and how they scaled the ladder up to the treehouse.

The treehouse... was he forgetting something?

It was a long car ride home. Not a word was said since the hospital, not from him nor his parents, not even from his brother. Kel had kicked off his shoes and curled into a ball, hugging his knees while resting his head against the window. He couldn't blame him, who could say anything after all that?

Kel took to the left window; he took to the right, eyes following the arc of the power lines, down and up from pole to pole. Faint stars dotted the landscape, peeking every so often through the trees. Who knew how long he stared out the window; he could sooner form a coherent thought than come up with an estimate, and he could hardly manage the thought. His mind was too distracted for that, buzzing with white noise, thoughts pushing together like the wrong pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Maybe it was just as well; as long as he couldn't think, he couldn't remember.

And as long as he couldn't remember, he was sane.

The endless trees outside made way to picket fences; the car slowed from its steady rumble. The big city was far behind them now, and so was the hospital, but the thoughts remained, and the white noise grew louder still to keep them at bay. That old adage, out of sight, out of mind, wasn't ringing true at all.

Bits and pieces came through, of course, he couldn't block it all. The pungent waft of rubbing alcohol tickled the back of his nose, and he squinted from nonexistent fluorescent lights. But more than that, a lingering image cursed the back of his head, forming clearest of the bunch through the haze.

Mari face: he couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling. She was in bad shape from the start; the terrible news that followed only made things worse. The scratches on his shoulders, the dull ache on his back; he held Mari close through all that. They could barely tear her away from him; but, when it came time to leave, it wasn't him they could barely tear her away from. There she was by those double doors that led to the emergency room; he called out to her, but she didn't look back.

Her parents had come rushing in by then, so she wasn't alone, but all that meant was they had to see him too, the broken thing that used to be their son.

Familiar houses and yards lined his side of the street before long, identical rows with only roof color to tell them apart. The orange roof was theirs, and that's where the car slowed to an idle roll. The hiss of the brakes made way to the dull thump of four doors opening at once.

He was back, just one house away from where the ambulance picked them up hours before. Skirting around the rear end of the car, he stood to face that end of the street.

Sunny house, and the hospital, they had shattered remains both.

"I think you should go inside, Hero. It's been a long day." that was his mother speaking. Kel and his father had long gone up the driveway and into the house by then. It was just the two of them there. She waited patiently for an answer.

Going back home, if Mari's parents were to see all that, what would they think?

Mari... she's suffered enough.

"Could I go for a walk? I... really need to clear my head." he wasn't used to lying; there may've been some truth to it, but it certainly wasn't one of his main reasons for walking.

His mother didn't seem to notice and nodded like she understood. "Take as much time as you need, dear." she said, and bid him tentative leave. "Come home as soon as you can."

He drew away slowly at first, carefully listening for the clatter of her footsteps down the walkway, and up the porch to the door; it shut with a dull *poomph*, that's when he picked up the pace. Going back so soon left a bad taste in his mouth; even his legs lagged behind him, but he pushed them hard enough to manage a tepid jog. The quicker he could get this over with, the better.

Mari's house door: they left it open in their rush. It was terribly dark inside, he could hardly see a thing— the sun was still up when they first left, so there weren't any lights on then, nor were there any on now. The haze of the streetlamps brought life to the pollen and dust that swirled around him; he was seeing things. Wispy figures fluttered like apparitions, behind him first, then past him through the open door.

The figures went on; he followed for a moment, only to stop and linger soon after. The living room wasn't just dark, it was cold too, as autumn nights often were. The ambiance of life behind him hushed as soon as he stepped inside, and he could hear nothing else apart from his own breathing. In the fireplace, where there would be a cozy ember crackling, there was nothing; and where the wind would buffet against the glass backdoor, again, nothing. He'd found himself alone in this house before, but it never felt so... dead until now.

He knew where the figures were going. Through the living room and past the arch on the far end, they were in the hallway, where it all happened. He followed the trail of their wispy tails, but they were gone once he entered the room proper. He tried searching for them, looking around for any trace, to no avail. Without them, he was truly alone.

"You're never alone, Hero."

His shoulders felt awfully cold all at once, and that voice...

He was remembering.

Hero did his best to ignore the voice, though he peered over each shoulder, patting them with each glance to goad some warmth back in. He could feel eyes on him, watching, waiting for some opportune moment.

"Why didn't you save me, Hero?"

Everything that lay by the foot of the stairs had to go, for everyone's sake. But where? He stumbled from room to room, voice following him wherever he went, looking for something— anything— where it could just be dumped and forgotten. He found one in time.

"You're making a grave mistake."

"It's the only way anyone will find peace."

"Do you really believe that?"

He really did, though he never said another word back. He pushed the box with a great heave; its contents must never see the light of day, and so it’d stay, so long as no one ever found the key.

This key: it glistened in the moonlight. It was good to know it was safe. Whatever force that compelled him to hide it there proved reliable in the end. Somewhere close to Mari's heart, he thought then; it was still true now. Still, she'd come here every so often to practice, to reminisce, to play the piano, to the tune of that waltz they all knew so well.

"You want to play a tune?"

"So I did forget about you for a long time, I'm sorry. Will you ever leave me alone?"

"I can't say, but I know he won't."

The door creaked behind him, unlatching with a sharp tick. He slipped the key back in its spot inside the piano, quicker than he would've liked, but it gave him time to turn around and feign ignorance.

It was Kel that opened the door. "I thought I'd find you here." he said through bleary eyes.

"You were looking for me?"

"You disappeared after dinner. I was wondering where you went. But you had that look on your face, " he took a few steps closer, "all quiet and thinking."

"Why'd you think I'd be here?"

"Dunno, just had a gut feeling. We're brothers, you get a sense for that sorta thing. I like to think I know you best."

"Maybe, you can't know everything, but..."

"Close enough." Kel, poor thing. If only he knew as much as he thought he did.

"If you say so."

Soon enough, Kel wouldn't have to know. Hero just had to wait, bide his time for a better day.

Just a little longer.