Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Come on! You’ll love them!” a girl yells, dragging her friend along by the hand.  

“I—o-okay," the blonde boy sheepishly replies. “B-But w-who—”  

“Some people I met! They’re... they’re friends,” she responds, somewhat hesitantly.  

Her companion raises a sceptical eyebrow at the word ‘friends’ and she doesn’t blame him. For the longest time, it’s just been the two of them, two strays lucky enough to find each other. But today that’s going to change! She’s found her people, and she won’t leave Basil behind.  

“Trust me, Bas,” she says, putting on her best attempt at a reassuring smile. “They’re really nice. They helped me find my shoe!”  

“You l-lost your shoe?” the boy asks.  

“Never mind that!” she yells, practically radiating excitement. “Look! They’re here!”  

Just up ahead of them, a small group waits patiently. Her new friends consist of two pairs of siblings: the annoying, energetic Kel and his charming older brother, Hero, and the cute, quiet Sunny and his incredible older sister, Mari.  

“Hello, Aubrey!” the older girl greets. “Oh, who’s your friend?”  

The blonde boy hesitates, and Aubrey feels a slight tug on her hand. She turns around and is greeted by a nervous wreck. The boy looks like anxiety personified as he tries and fails to stutter some lame excuses. Aubrey sighs, smiles, and mouths ‘it’ll be okay’. It’s a small gesture, but it seems to reassure her companion.  

Satisfied that her friend is comfortable enough to begin introductions, she turns back to face the group in front of her.   

“Hi, Mari! Hey guys! This is—”  

“Basil,” Aubrey deadpans.  

The setting sun illuminates the boy’s blonde hair, highlighting that same stupid flower pin he’s been wearing for years now.  

This is the closest he’s been to her house in a long time, and she does not appreciate the impromptu visit.  

“The hell do you want?” she asks, despite knowing damn well what he wants.  

It’s the photo album. It always is. 

Ever since she rescued the accursed thing from the clutches of this freak, he has not stopped pestering her about it. A part of her almost respects his commitment. Almost. She’s put this sad excuse of a man on his ass more times than she can count by now, and yet, he remains undeterred. Maybe he hopes to win a war of attrition, where his incessant whining and begging eventually gets through to her, and he becomes too pitiful to hit. 

“I—the album—Aubrey plea—” Basil whines, before being cut short by a firm right hook to his face. 

‘Not today,' she thinks, before, quite literally, kicking him while he’s down. 

He whimpers in pain, coughing a couple of times, before wiping his now bloody nose and attempting to rise again. Of course, she doesn’t give him the chance to do so; lightly shoving him, he collapses back down onto the pavement like a tower of cards. It’s a truly pitiful sight, but unfortunately for him, she does not pity him. She knows what kind of person he is: he’s a coward, a traitorous rat, a snake in the grass, a—   

...Actually, those terms might be too generous. She’s never seen a rat or snake that could get floored by a gust of wind. Whatever, he’s the worst, simple as. 

“Take a hint,” she says, without any hint of emotion in her voice. A year ago, she might have felt more passionate about all this, but now? Now, she’s just tired.  Tired of all the excuses, the begging, the whining, Christ, the whining. “Now, will you just piss off already?” 

“N-No,” he mumbles, in some pathetic mimicry of resistance. “Please! I-I just—” 

“Oh, for fu—if you wanted it, if you really wanted it, then you wouldn’t have ruined it in the first place!” she snaps, sick of all his excuses. 

Much to her surprise, Aubrey spots a flash of anger cross Basil’s face, and for a brief moment, she thinks that he’s finally going to fight back. Part of her has been hoping he would for years now. But predictably, nothing happens, the boy bites his tongue, and whatever rage he’d felt fades as fast as it came, a defeated expression taking its place. 

“I’m—” he goes to say. 

“Just—just stop,” she interrupts, not even trying to mask her disgust. “Get out of my sight, you—” 

“Aubrey.” 

Basil’s eyes widen, and the girl feels her blood run cold. She knows that voice, sure, she doesn’t hear it very often, but she could never forget it.  

Steeling her nerves, she turns around to face her trash heap of a house. Sure enough, her mom stands silently in the doorway. The ragged woman doesn’t say a word; she simply gestures indoors before stumbling back into the house.  

Aubrey freezes for a moment, before finally snapping out of her stupor. She hasn’t seen her mom leave that stupid couch for... well, months now. But she still knows better than to keep her waiting. Cursing under her breath, Aubrey clenches her right arm in a vain attempt to keep it from shaking. 

“A-Aubrey?” Basil asks sheepishly. 

‘Oh right...’ 

Aubrey had completely forgotten he was still here. Turning back to face him, she sees the blonde looking up at her with... pity? 

“Get lost, freak,” she scoffs, ignoring the sudden pit in her stomach. 

Basil struggles to rise for a minute, but eventually stumbles back onto his feet, and looks up at her one last time, before staggering off down the street. She watches on until he’s out of sight. He never looks back. 

Letting out a shuddering breath she didn’t know she was holding, Aubrey braces herself, and then enters the house. 

She steps through the door and suddenly she’s thirteen again, a pitiful girl cowering under the gaze of her towering mother. The drunken mess of a woman raises her hand, and Aubrey instinctively flinches... but nothing happens. Opening her eyes, she sees her mother standing there, a blank expression on her face. Without a word, the woman sighs, stumbles across the room, and collapses back down onto her usual spot, glued to the couch once again. 

Aubrey stands in place, as still as a statue, dazed. It was like her mom had remembered she was a parent for five seconds, only to immediately forget again before she even started her ‘scolding’.  

‘Typical...’ 

Aubrey simply groans, takes a second to catch her breath, and then strolls through the cluttered living room, past the useless lump of flesh she calls a mother, and up the rickety ladder to her room. It may be small and uncomfortable, with a leaky roof and no heating (during winter, it’s practically an ice box), but it’s still the cleanest room in the house.

She'd tried keeping the rest of the place as tidy as here for a while, but those efforts were soon abandoned. Turns out that spending entire days ferrying trash out of the house, just for it to be swiftly replaced, is quite demoralising.

Taking a second to pet her rabbit, Bun Bun (she was never good at naming), she makes a beeline for her bed, before collapsing down onto it with a thud... and a crack. 

‘God damn it.’ 

Today has been just peachy, truly the height of her Summer. She spent most of it wandering aimlessly around town because none of her friends were free until tomorrow, then Basil came and bothered her, then her ‘mother’ almost gave her a panic attack, and now her bed's broken. 

‘Fantastic.’ 

Whatever, she’ll get it fixed... eventually. That is to say, after she's fixed the leak in her roof, the lock on the front door, those damn drainpipes again—

Oh! And how could she forget the fifty other issues with this house that she can barely fix but will still have to do on her own because God forbid her mother actually act like a parent!

... 

“GOD FU—ARGH!" Aubrey curses as she slams her fist down onto the side of her bed, cutting it on the splintered wood.  

Great, she can’t even vent her frustrations without getting hurt. 

“Of course,” she grumbles, voice thick with venom, as she examines her hand. It’s just a few scratches, it stings, but she’ll be fine. Well, if you can call any of this fine. 

As the pain fades, her anger returns. Why the hell does she have to do all this crap? Why couldn’t she be born to loving parents or live in a house that isn’t collapsing around her? It’s not fair! She’s sixteen! Her peers’ biggest worries are what they’re going to wear tomorrow, whilst she has to worry about her own roof falling down on her! 

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ she wonders, her eyes involuntarily drifting over to her desk. There lies Basil’s her photo album, right where she left it.  

The desk itself is adorned with a few select photos she keeps separate from the rest. Specifically, photos of Mari... 

‘ Great! Like I didn’t already feel like shit! ’ she mentally curses. 

Like a woman possessed, Aubrey finds herself rising from her shattered bed and making a beeline for the desk. She stands there for a moment, staring at the photo of a very embarrassed Mari. She looks so young, so alive, and so very flustered. Basil, being as inconsiderate as ever, had taken this photo when Mari missed a key on her piano.  

Mari was always a bit of a perfectionist, so she was very embarrassed by the photo. But even in that moment of weakness, she still smiled. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Aubrey says, thinking aloud. “You were happy... we were happy...” 

The longer Aubrey stares at the photo, the more she swears she can still see lingering pen marks on the Polaroid’s surface. She’d cleaned them all to the best of her ability, but Basil had really gone to town with that marker pen. 

‘ That freak. ’ 

Glancing over at another photo, she sees that same lively smile on Mari’s face. 

“...Weren’t we?”  

It’s hard to believe it’s been four years already. Honestly, it still feels like yesterday, she vividly remembers the sirens, the screaming, the crying, and all those other distant echoes that somehow feel more real to her than this very moment. 

“It’s kind of funny,” Aubrey laughs joylessly. “It’s been years, but some days I still feel like I’m dreaming. Like I’ll wake up any second by your side...” 

Another photo, another smile. Aubrey struggles to find it reassuring this time. 

“...And you’ll tell me this was all just some stupid nightmare.” 

This next photo is of the two of them... was her smile always that much wider than Mari’s? 

“But that’s not going to happen... you—you left us... you left me. ”  

Mari is wrapped around Hero in this photo. Aubrey wonders if they ever actually made their relationship official, it was an open secret, but she’s not sure they ever gave it a title.  

Not that it matters, he left her too. 

“Why?” Aubrey sobs. 

‘Why did she leave me? Why did he leave me?’ 

Mari is carrying her brother Sunny on her back in the next polaroid. They both look happy, truly happy. Sunny never smiled much, but when you got to know him, you could tell when he was happy, and he looks very happy here. Still, it was a rare treat when he did smile.  

They used to hang out all the time, but she hasn’t seen him in years now. Mari left her first, but he was the next to go.  

“Why?” Aubrey begs. 

‘Why did you leave me?’ 

The last photo is a group photo. Basil’s birthday party—a painful reminder of who these photos used to belong to. And as if seeing the blonde wasn’t bad enough, her eyes are quickly drawn to an all too-familiar toothy grin. Kel... he still smiles like that, even after everything, it disgusts her just how little he cares. 

“Why?!” Aubrey demands. 

‘ Why did you betray me? Why did you betray Mari? Why don’t you care? Why did you all leave? ’ 

Mari is smiling in all these photos. 

‘ Did you all hate me that much? ’  

“WHY?!” Aubrey roars, as years of misery surface once more. 

But nobody responds. 

For a brief, traitorous moment, part of Aubrey almost understands why Basil scribbled all over these damn photos. Right now, she can barely look at them herself. She quickly banishes the thought, though, barely giving it a second of consideration.  

Catching her breath, Aubrey glares at the photo of Basil’s birthday and she sees herself smile back at her. She promptly turns the photo upside down and makes her way back to her bed. Crashing back down onto it, she does her best to ignore the cracking noise it makes. Staring up at the ceiling, Aubrey can’t help but let her mind wander.  

Mari, Sunny, Hero, Kel, herself and Basil, the six of them used to be like one big family. Major emphasis on used to be... 

‘ ...How stupid, ’ Aubrey thinks to herself. She should really be used to her family failing her by now. Glancing over at the distant photos one last time, she sees that same smiling face watching over her. ‘You're all I have left... and you're not even here. ’ 

Everyone she’s ever cared about has ended up leaving her. She hates them for it, but still...  

‘It would be nice to go back to the old days.' 

And with that thought, Aubrey loses consciousness, finally letting sleep take her. 

‘Something is wrong,' is the first waking thought Aubrey has.  

Rather sadly, it’s because she’s comfortable. Her room has always been the best in the house, but that’s like having the best cell in a prison; it’s not exactly a bragging right.  

The point is, the bed she’s lying on is actually comfortable, and she hasn’t woken up to the smell of mould. Meaning this isn’t her room. 

“Wakey, wakey!” an enthusiastic and weirdly familiar voice suddenly calls out, followed by a series of loud knocks. 

Opening her eyes and blinking a few times confirms her fears. This definitely isn’t her room, first of all, it’s far too clean, secondly, the knocking is coming from a door in front of her, and she lives in an attic. 

‘Where the hell am I?’ 

“Aubrey? Is everything okay?” the voice asks, sounding even more familiar this time. “I’m coming in, okay?” 

Aubrey is far too confused to process anything going on around her, let alone reply, and so it comes as some surprise when the bedroom door gently opens, revealing...  

“Basil?” she mumbles. 

“The one and only,” Basil replies with a chuckle, although his smile quickly fades when he spots Aubrey’s confused expression. “Are you feeling okay?” 

‘Ah, that explains it. This is Basil’s house. I’ve been kidnapped...’ 

... 

‘I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!’ 

Screaming, the terrified delinquent practically launches herself out of bed, before grabbing a nearby alarm clock and flinging at the blonde’s head. The boy screams in response, narrowly dodging the projectile, which then shatters against the wall behind him. 

“WHAT THE—” he yells, before having to dodge yet another random bedside ornament. “AUBREY?!” 

“BITE ME, FREAK!” she screams, desperately searching for something else to throw at him. 

“Aubrey, what the—what's wrong?!” Basil begs, clear, genuine confusion, as well as a slight hint of frustration evident in his tone. 

“SCREW YOU!” Aubrey screams in response, flinging her pillow at the blonde in a pitiful display of resistance. 

She always knew Basil was a freak, a stuttering mess of a person, a traitorous, pathetic rat. But she never thought he’d kidnap her! 

“H-Hey! Just calm down oka—” 

“Calm down?” she repeats, in complete bafflement at the blonde’s audacity. “Calm down?!” she says again, anger now clear in her voice. “Don’t tell me to calm down, freak! YOU JUST KIDNAPPED ME!” 

“What?! Aubrey, what are you talking about?! This is literally your room!” 

“Bullshi—” she goes to argue before stopping and taking a second to look around. 

It’s not her room. It’s not the dingy attic she rots away in every night; it’s clean and comfortable, with a solid roof and no drafts. It’s the exact opposite of her house... but it has her stuff. The limited edition SpaceBoy poster she scrounged up enough spare change to buy, her ever-reliable bat (although noticeably lacking its nails), and even Bun Bun, sat in his cage, cute as ever, staring at her with wide, concerned eyes. 

“I—What?” Aubrey mumbles, her head spinning. 

Basil says something, likely some vague reassurance, but she can’t hear him. Everything suddenly seems distant, her ears are full of static, and a dull white noise rings through her head as her vision blurs. For a moment, Aubrey feels completely detached from everything around her, until suddenly, almost intrusively, something comes back into focus.  

‘The photo album.’ 

The same one that Basil had tarnished all those years ago, a symbol of their friendship and its explosive end, is right there, firmly tucked under his arm. 

‘How?’  

Impulsively, Aubrey lunges forward and grabs the album, pulling it out from under Basil’s arm. The boy doesn’t protest; instead, he just gives her a strange look. Ignoring it, Aubrey opens the book and flicks through its pages. It feels heavier than she remembers, and the photos of Mari are back where she took them from, but otherwise, it’s exactly the same.  

It doesn’t take long for Aubrey to reach the last page, flicking past it she expects to see the same blank page she always— 

‘Huh?!’ 

There’s a new page. 

‘How is there a new page?!’ 

Aubrey blinks, but the page doesn’t fade away. Hesitantly, she reaches her hand out and touches it, feeling the smooth texture of polaroids. They’re real, she can’t deny that, but— 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she mutters. 

She doesn’t stop to truly look at the photos, they’re a blur, an impossibility her mind refuses to process. Aubrey blinks, focusing in on one of the photos. She sees familiar smiling faces looking up at her and promptly flings the album down to the ground. 

“Hey!” Basil protests. “What is wrong with you?! And where... where’d you get that outfit?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, his anger fading as confusion takes its place. 

“I’m dreaming,” Aubrey mumbles, ignoring the blonde's concern. “This is just some messed-up nightmare,” she reasons. 

It has to be a nightmare because that’s the only thing that makes sense right now. Pinching her arm, however, proves otherwise, as does pulling her hair. 

“Hey! Stop that!” Basil yells, visibly alarmed. “You’re hurting yourself.” 

Aubrey stares blankly at the blonde for a moment, before once again lunging at him. Grabbing him by the collar, her wild eyes glare into his own wide ones. 

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands. 

“G-Good question,” he stutters in response. 

“Why am I here? Where is here? Why is there another page in the photo album?!” 

“Another page?” 

“You heard me!” 

Basil stares at her with equal parts worry and sympathy. It makes her feel sick. 

“Is this like one of those ‘wake up not knowing where you are’ things?” he cautiously asks. “Because you’re home, Aubrey, you’re safe, everything is going to be okay.” 

His words have the opposite of the intended effect, as Aubrey feels her eye twitch. 

“Stop talking nonsense! I swear to—” 

“Kids! Is everything okay?” a feminine voice calls out, interrupting Aubrey’s tirade. 

“...Who the hell is that?!” Aubrey whisper-yells. 

“Polly? Aubrey, seriously, what the—” Basil replies with a baffled expression, before sighing and yelling back at the woman. “We’re fine! We’ll be out in a minute!” 

“Well... okay then!” ‘Polly’ replies after a moment. 

Aubrey releases her grasp on Basil, and an awkward silence falls over the room. 

“Okay, what the heck is going on?” the blonde asks. 

“You can say hell,” Aubrey deadpans. 

“Aubrey.” 

“Don’t ‘Aubrey’ me freak!” 

“What is your problem?! ...And why are you dressed like that?” 

“Hey, you don’t shame me, mister ‘same outfit for the past four years’!” 

“First of all, how dare you. Secondly, I WASN’T INSULTING YOU! It’s a good look! It’s just differ—” 

“Creep.” 

“TAKE THE COMPLIMENT!” 

Aubrey raises an eyebrow. Basil’s arguing back, he’s yelling and has only stuttered once this entire conversation. It’s nothing like the blonde she knows... 

“This is weird. I hate this,” she states. 

“Trust me, I’m not having fun either,” Basil deadpans. “Look, is this—is this like, a girl thing? Should I call Mari?” 

“A girl thing? God, Basil, you’re such a—wait... what did you just say?” she asks, doing the mother of all double takes. 

“Should I call Mari?” he asks again. 

'Stunned', is the only word that could describe how Aubrey feels right now. She imagines her face must look ridiculous right now, her mouth must be so agape it appears like her jaw is trying to break free from the rest of her body. 

“Are you a medium?” she asks, with equal parts venom and bafflement, being too confused to be truly offended. 

“No, but I do feel like I’d have more luck talking to a corpse right now,” Basil deadpans. 

“Oh, so you think you’re real funny,” Aubrey mocks, genuine anger beginning to surface again. “Mari’s dead and you think—” 

“WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” Basil yells, his frustrations finally surfacing. “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!!!” 

“I— Mari—” 

“Is coming home from college tomorrow!” Basil interjects exhaustedly. “You know this! You know where you are! Why are you acting like this?! Why are—” he pauses, sighing and taking a deep breath. “Aubrey... what’s wrong?” he asks earnestly. 

A thousand thoughts rush through her mind; she has a million and one questions to ask right now, but she can’t possibly verbalise them. Still, she has a feeling she knows what’s going on, but her theory seems so absurd it can’t possibly be true... but what Basil said... 

‘Mari’s alive? ’ 

“Show me,” is what she eventually settles on saying. 

“What?” 

“Mari.” 

“Aubrey she isn’t home until tomorrow. I literally just told you—” 

“The graveyard. Show me.” 

She’ll believe it when she sees it with her own eyes. 

“Oh... that’s what this is... okay then,” Basil complies, cryptically. “But can we have breakfast first?” 

Her immediate reaction is to tell him to piss off, but her stomach rumbling beats her to it. 

“Guess that’s a yes then,” Basil smirks before turning around and exiting the room. 

‘ I hate this already .’ 

Despite herself, Aubrey follows after him, but stops for a second to look at a framed photo in the hallway. It’s a picture of a younger Basil, his grandmother... and herself. She looks about thirteen, she’s smiling widely, and her hair is bleached blonde, meaning this must have been taken a month or two before she dyed it pink.  

The thing is, she and Basil had already stopped being friends by then, and she would definitely remember taking this photo with him. 

But the smiling faces don’t lie. That’s them, alright. Seemingly friends at a time when she wanted nothing more than to strangle him, smiling together, when she wanted him dead, posing for a photo that she doesn’t remember taking. 

“...What the hell.” 

“Mmm, these are delicious, Polly,” Basil compliments between bites. 

Aubrey can’t bring herself to disagree—these are some damn good pancakes. Polly’s cooking (or is it baking?) is truly impressive. Obviously, it’s nothing compared to what Hero and Mari used to make, but it’s still pretty good. 

“Aw, thank you, Basil,” Polly replies earnestly. “Are you enjoying your food, Aubrey? 

“O-Oh yeah, they’re good... really good, thank you,” Aubrey stutters, caught off guard by the sudden attention. 

It’s just her, Basil, and Polly at the dinner table; she hasn’t dared to ask where Mrs Flower is yet.  

But from what she’s surmised, it seems like Polly is the flower boy’s caretaker, although she acts more like his parent... and hers for that matter... It’s weird, but kind of nice. She still has no idea what’s going on here, but it’s clearly not a dream or a kidnapping. However, that leaves only a handful of explanations, all of which are equally ridiculous, like something straight out of an eighties SpaceBoy issue. Whatever, she’ll know for sure when she sees the graveyard; until then, she won’t completely write off the dream/kidnapping theories. 

“So... you two care to explain all that yelling?” Polly asks. 

‘Asks’, is a generous use of the word—her tone leaves little room to not comply. She sounds like a disappointed parent, and despite herself, Aubrey suddenly feels nervous. Glancing at Basil, he looks similarly hopeless. 

‘Useless,’ she mentally curses. 

“I uh... had a nightmare... a really bad one,” she awkwardly explains. Technically, it’s not a lie—this entire morning has felt like a bad dream. 

“Yeah! She was just freaked and confused,” Basil adds. 

“Yeah, I... I forgot where I was... maybe threw a couple of things too,” Aubrey says, mumbling the last part. 

“She broke an alarm clock!” Basil clarifies, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“You son of a...” Aubrey curses under her breath, glaring at the blonde. 

“Language!” Polly interjects, clearly exhausted. “Look, I’m sorry to hear that, Aubrey, and I’m glad you’re both okay, but you are cleaning up whatever mess you’ve made. Understood?” 

‘ Isn’t that literally your job? ’ Aubrey thinks. “Understood,” is what she actually replies. 

The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence. It’s not quite uncomfortable, but it’s still... strange. But then again, this entire day has been strange so far. Despite all the mounting evidence proving otherwise, Aubrey still can’t help but hold out hope that this is just some strange dream.  

She doesn’t know what she’ll do if it isn’t. 

Faraway town looks the same as ever. That shouldn’t be too surprising though; it’s a small town with a shrinking population, where more shops close than open, and only continues to exist because enough of its residents are too complacent to actually leave.  

Still, with how different things have been today, Aubrey was half expecting to step outside the Flower residence and see an apocalyptic wasteland or a fantasy wonderland or something equally absurd. But no, strolling down the same streets she does every day, it’s clearly just good ol' Faraway. Although, there is one difference she can’t help but notice, and it's how people look at her. Only yesterday, every passerby looked at her like she was the scum of the Earth, most not even bothering to hide their disdain for her mere existence.  

But today? Nothing.  

So far, every person she’s passed hasn’t given her so much as a second glance. No stares or glares, no rolled eyes, no insults muttered under breaths, absolutely nothing. Hell, she’s pretty sure a few people have even smiled at her. It feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. The world itself is uncanny in a way she can’t quite describe. It’s like staring at a painting you’ve owned for years, but then waking up one morning and realising something about it is just off. Maybe there’s a tree where there shouldn’t be, or a house that’s painted a different colour to what you remember, or a former friend who’s acting like your bestie again.  

“We’re here,” Basil states, snapping Aubrey out of her thoughts. He’d insisted on joining her, despite her numerous protests. “You ready?” he asks. 

Before the pair looms Faraway Church, her not-so-safe space for the past four years. Every week she’s passed through these doors seeking closure, she hasn’t found it yet, and she doubts she will today.  

Still, she’s never missed a sermon. 

“Sure,” Aubrey replies dismissively. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

Pushing the heavy wooden door open, the duo enter into a mostly empty nave. It’s deathly quiet, with the aisles being scarcely populated by a handful of silent visitors. It makes sense though, the sermon won’t begin for another few hours yet.  

Standing by the altar are the Preacher and an old woman, both of whom pause their quiet conversation to look up at the newcomers. The lady in particular stares at Aubrey with an indiscernible expression. 

‘Ah, here we go,’ Aubrey internally laments. 

The judging stares, the muttered comments, the blatant disgust and disdain, Aubrey gets it all and a lot more on the streets of Faraway. But it’s somehow worse in the aisles of this Church. Maybe that’s because she’s more vulnerable here, so it feels that much worse, or maybe it’s because the Churchgoers are some of the only people in this town who have the nerve to outright insult her to her face. Either way, she’s hardly surprised this place has remained unchang— 

“Aubrey!” the Preacher greets with a warm smile. “You’re quite early today; the sermon won’t start for another few hours yet.” 

Okay, that’s a bit strange, the Preacher has always been one of the kinder people in this ‘flock’ of his. But he’s usually more nervous than happy to see her. 

“Yeah, I’m just visiting—” she goes to reply, biting her tongue before she can say ‘Mari’.  

Aubrey doesn’t know why she doesn’t say her name. Mari is why she’s here, Mari is who she’s visiting, Mari is the one buried in the yard outside, Mari— 

“Is coming home from college tomorrow! ” 

Snapping out of her brief stupor, she silently gestures in the general direction of the graveyard. The two adults seem to understand as they nod in solemn recognition. 

“It’s good that you’re visiting,” the Preacher says after a moment. “I hope you can find some closure.” 

“Me too," the old lady adds. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” 

Okay, now that is strange. Aubrey could have sworn this same woman was calling her an infidel or something equally damning last week, and now she’s being nice? 

‘ What the hell is going on?! ’ 

“I—uh, thank you...” Aubrey replies awkwardly. 

It’s quiet for a moment, painfully quiet, until Basil suddenly speaks up. 

“Right, well, we really should be going!” he says. 

“Ah, of course,” the Preacher replies. “I’ll leave you to it then, take care you two.” 

“Take care,” the old lady agrees. 

With that, the two adults resume their previous conversation, leaving Aubrey and Basil to face the graveyard. 

... 

Suddenly, the door leading out back feels a lot more intimidating. It’s irrational, she knows this, she’s passed through this same door countless times, she knows what awaits her out there. 

‘Except you don’t. Not today.’ 

“Are you okay?” Basil asks, causing Aubrey to release a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“I’m fine,” she dismisses. “Just shut up and follow me.” 

Basil simply frowns in response, but still follows her as she strolls over to the exit. Taking another deep breath, Aubrey opens the door and is almost immediately stunned by the sudden flash of bright, blinding sunlight. She swears this graveyard is always unusually sunny.  

Shading her eyes with her hand, Aubrey is finally able to take in the sight before her, and as expected, it’s the same graveyard she’s been visiting for the past few years.  

Everything looks exactly the same as when she was last here. It’s almost reassuring.... almost. 

‘Here goes nothing then,' Aubrey thinks, taking yet another deep breath before setting off towards Mari’s grave. Basil follows at a distance, but she pays him no mind. Likewise, the strange caretaker looks up from a grave he was tending to and gives her an odd look, but Aubrey ignores him, too. 

There’s only one thing she’s focused on right now. 

Approaching the grave, Aubrey is hit with a strange mix of emotions; she’s both relieved and upset to see that the tombstone is still there. It’s a confusing feeling. But one thing is certain: she is going to hurt Basil for this. She has no idea how he’s pulled this all off, but this little prank of his is not going unpunished.  

Clenching her fists, Aubrey stares at the gravestone, her anger slowly rising. He kidnapped her, lied to her, and had the audacity to say that Mari was— 

‘Wait...' 

Looking at the grave a bit closer, Aubrey notices it’s in a much poorer state than she recalls, and the text is... different. 

“...W-What?” she mumbles, stumbling backwards. 

The faded moss-covered text reads:

‘HERE LIES SHERRY WILLIAMS. 

MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.’ 

“Mom... but—but how?” she asks aloud, her voice quiet and shaky. Frantically glancing around the graveyard reveals no sign of Mari’s tombstone, meaning Aubrey is definitely in the right spot.  

But Mari isn’t. 

“This—this doesn’t make any sense...” she stutters. “This—you—” 

This should be Mari’s grave, not her Mom’s. Aubrey was at her funeral; she saw them lower her coffin into the ground, not to mention she literally saw her mother alive and ‘well’ yesterday. But if Mari isn’t here then... 

Her mind is a mess, relief, confusion, sadness, glee, anger, and grief all rush through her head at once. It takes all her will to not collapse on the spot, so instead, Aubrey just stands in place, as still as a statue, staring at the tombstone, waiting for the text to change. 

But it never does. 

“Mari’s alive...” Aubrey mumbles in disbelief. 

“...You expected her to be here,” Basil states, his tone unreadable. “Not your mom.” 

“Basil!” Aubrey spits. “What the hell is going on?!” 

“Who are you?” he asks coldly, ignoring her question. 

“What?” she replies, finally turning to face him. 

It’s only now that Aubrey truly sees the boy before her. It’s Basil, that much is certain, but he looks... healthier. He’s taller and less pale, hell, she’d go as far as to say he’s got some muscle on him. A far cry from the scrawny blonde she beat up yesterday. 

“You look like Aubrey. But you’re not her. You know my name, but you don’t know me, and you don’t know Polly. You’re thinner and paler, you style your hair differently, dress differently, carry yourself differently, you’re more aggressive and stand-offish. And you thought Mari was dead...” Basil rambles, confusion and frustration clear in his tone. “So, who are you? And what have you done with the real Aubrey?” 

“L-Listen here, you little—” she stutters, trying and failing to resume her tough girl façade. “I am Aubrey I just—you—you're different too! And that doesn’t—this is just... God damn it... GOD DAMN IT!” 

Basil takes a step back but continues to glare at her. 

“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!” Aubrey screams, practically begging the blonde for an answer. 

... 

There’s a long stretch of silence before Basil speaks up again. 

“How did we meet?” he cautiously asks. 

“You already know how!” she snaps back, absolutely not in the mood for his antics. 

“Humour me.” 

“...I saved your sorry ass from some bullies.” 

“What about our friends? How did you meet them?” 

“They... I lost my shoe... they came and cheered me up,” Aubrey replies, looking down at the ground. “Then I dragged you along to our next hangout.” 

She continues to stare at her feet, refusing to look him in the eye. 

“...What’s your name?” he asks after a minute. 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously. 

“Urgh... it’s Aubrey Williams,” the delinquent groans. 

“Your full name,” the blonde clarifies. 

Aubrey groans and blushes slightly, even under such stressful circumstances, her full name is still a source of embarrassment. After grumbling some more, she eventually looks back up and glares at Basil before answering his stupid question. 

“It’s... it’s Aubergine Williams,” she laments. 

Basil’s stone-cold expression slowly cracks as a small grin forces its way onto his face, and before Aubrey can even comment, he’s already burst out into laughter. 

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LAUGHING RIGHT NOW?!” she roars, her face bright red. 

“Hahaha—oh—hahaha—I-I'm sorry, it’s just—pfft,  HAHAHA!” the blonde cackles. 

“Basil, I swear to God.” 

“Right! Right! I’m sorry, it’s just... you’re definitely her, alright, well, not her, but you are Aubrey,” he replies, stumbling over his words. 

“Mind speaking English?” Aubrey grumbles. 

“See, that’s what I mean. You are Aubrey, but you’re not my Aubrey... which I know sounds insane, but that’s the only explanation I’ve got,” he replies, sounding borderline hysterical. 

“Your Aubrey? The hell is that supposed to—” 

“Oh! I got it! Do you remember SpaceBoy issue one-forty-nine?” Basil asks, preventing her tirade before it even starts. 

“I—yeah? The one where SpaceBoy switches places with his evil double from... from another world... oh... oh, don’t say it.”  

“Mari’s dead where you’re from, right? And—and I’m guessing we’re not friends?” he asks, sounding slightly hurt. 

“Yeah, she is... and no, we’re not...” she replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, you, the you I know, has been crashing at my house for years now, and Mari is coming home from college tomorrow so...” 

“So, this... this isn’t my world,” Aubrey finishes. 

The thought had crossed her mind a few times now, but it seemed so ridiculous that she refused to acknowledge it. But...  

Glancing at her mother’s grave again, the morning’s events rush through her mind. Polly, the Preacher, Basil himself, they all know her, all like her. The town is the same, but the people are different.  

Because this isn’t her world, it’s a world where her mom died, where her friends never abandoned her...

A world where Mari never died.  

“But... how?” Aubrey asks. 

“I—I don’t know,” Basil replies awkwardly. “But we can figure it out... together?” he suggests with a smile. 

Her and Basil? Hanging out again, just like old times?  

It’s a surprisingly tempting offer, but... 

“A-Aubrey I—I can explain!” a blonde boy stutters, panic evident in his wide blue eyes.  

An album lies before the young girl; the polaroids within are blacked out with crude scribbles. Countless memories tarnished by marker ink.  

“Y-You...” she stutters, tears forming in her eyes.  

Mari’s face, her warm, friendly smile that the girl will never see again, crossed out, ruined...  

“A-Aubrey...”  

Ruined by him.  

“How could you? You... you f-freak.”  

“Aubrey, please, I—”  

“...You freak.”  

“I just—”  

“YOU FREAK!”  

Aubrey frowns and clenches her fists. She can’t do this. She just can’t, not now, and definitely not with him. New world be damned, she knows who he really is. 

“Pass.” 

She’ll figure it out on her own—she doesn’t need this creep, she never has. 

“Wait w-what?” Basil stutters, clearly taken off guard by her response. 

“Hard pass... freak,” she says, doubling down with a deadpan expression. 

The delinquent goes to leave, but Basil blocks her way. 

“H-Hey now! Just hear me out!” he protests lamely. 

“Move!” she threatens. 

“No!” the blonde replies. “You’re not going anywhere until we figure out how to get my Aubrey back!” 

Aubrey’s eye twitches at his choice of words. She hates how he says that. ‘His Aubrey', the hell does that even—wait a second. In this world, they’re still close, so close that her counterpart lives with him... 

‘Oh no.’ 

“You keep saying your Aubrey...” the delinquent grumbles. “And I—she, lives with you... please don’t tell me that we’re...” 

“What? Oh! No! No, never!” Basil stutters. “No, I promise it’s not like that at all.” 

“Thank God,” Aubrey replies with a sigh of relief.  

Content with his response, she shoves him aside, preparing to storm off again. But she barely takes another step forward before Basil pipes up again. 

“No, you see, you’re dating Sunny,” the blonde states, a small but unmistakably smug smile plastered on his face. 

Aubrey freezes in place. Basil clearly wanted her attention, and he’s certainly got it now. 

... 

“I’M WHAT?!” 

Chapter Text

“I’M WHAT?!” Aubrey yells, feeling beyond flustered. 

“You’re dating Sunny, or my—the other you is,” Basil replies, tripping over his tongue. “Huh... this is going to get confusing,” he mumbles, scratching his chin. 

Aubrey pays no attention to that last bit, though; the words ‘dating Sunny’ keep repeating through her mind. If she was still twelve, she’d be absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. She’s ashamed to admit it, but as a kid, she was crushing hard on her quiet companion. But she isn’t a kid anymore, and Sunny... 

“I haven’t seen him in years!” Aubrey protests, like arguing with Basil will somehow change reality. Then again, going to bed literally changed her reality, so that might not be a huge leap in logic. 

“Oh come on, I thought you’d be ha—wait what?!” Basil asks, his smug demeanour dropping as he processes her words. “...How—why?!” 

“He—” Aubrey hesitates, struggling to express the flurry of emotions she’s experiencing right now. “He left me.” 

“Oh... like you broke up?” Basil quizzes, sounding almost disappointed. “Damn, I’m really sor—” 

“NO!” she yells, her face bright red. “No, you moron! He—The loser abandoned me, he’s been living in his own little bubble for about... four—yeah, four years now.” 

“Your Sunny... is a shut-in?” 

“Stop phrasing it like that!” Aubrey objects, once again embarrassed by Basil’s use of ‘your’. “But yeah, he’s a hikki-whatchamacallit or something," she adds dismissively, ignoring the sudden pit she feels in her stomach. 

Basil looks conflicted, she can’t quite get a read on his expression, but he seems... hurt, somehow more so than when she was actively belittling him earlier.  

Looks like this Basil is obsessed with Sunny too, hardly surprising, the freak she knows used to fawn over the ground he trod on. If she was crushing hard on Sunny as a kid, then Basil was basically worshipping him. 

‘Some things never change... how pathetic.’ 

“But Sunny—that doesn’t—he wouldn’t just leave us all like that!” the blonde tries to reason, all but confirming her suspicions. 

“Yeah, well, it happened,” Aubrey snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Don’t get too high and mighty about it though, the rest of you weren’t much better,” she adds bitterly. 

“I—He—” Basil struggles to reply, before his eyes suddenly widen. Aubrey can almost picture the lightbulb above his head. “Of course! If Mari died then... oh god, poor Sunny...”  

The delinquent clenches her fists. 

‘... Poor Sunny? Poor Sunny?! ’ she thinks, her anger slowly rising. Poor Sunny, who just ditched her like she was nothing, who hid away in his house for years, who wouldn’t even look her in the eyes at the funeral, who lost his sis—

‘ Oh .’ 

Mari was like a sister to Aubrey, but she was Sunny’s sister. Aubrey was devastated when she died. She felt lost, angry, confused, alone... 

‘Sunny always hated being alone.’ 

Aubrey doesn’t know what expression she’s wearing right now, but it definitely grabs Basil’s attention. He stares at her with wide eyes, seeming almost disgusted. 

“That—that never occurred to you?” he asks, not even trying to hide the disbelief in his voice. “Seriously?” 

“You don’t get to judge me, freak!” Aubrey growls, refusing to answer his question. “Why the hell did you even drop a bombshell like that?!” 

“You were going to find out eventually!” Basil replies defensively. “We don’t know how long you’re going to be here, and we were talking about relationships, so it seemed like a good time to bring it up! If anything, I just saved you a very awkward conversation.” 

She hates that he’s right. The idea of facing Sunny after all these years is daunting already, and the added context certainly doesn’t help. So, it’s definitely better that she knows in advance. 

‘Imagine if he tried to make a move...’ 

Aubrey blushes at the thought. 

‘I’d rather not!' 

Shaking her head, she snaps out of her thoughts and takes a second to process Basil’s words. Once again, he’s unfortunately right; she has no idea how long she’s going to be stuck here. She doesn’t know how to get home or how she even got here in the first place, but she doesn’t want to be stuck with this creep for the foreseeable future. Of that much she is certain. 

Grumbling curses under her breath, Aubrey turns and prepares to storm off again. 

“Where are you even going?” Basil asks, already sounding tired of her antics. 

“I may be stuck here, but I’m not staying with your sorry ass for the rest of the summer!” she yells in response. 

“So what? Who else are you going to crash with? Kel? Sunny?” Basil quizzes, putting on a smug voice for the lattermost option. 

“No! Screw those guys!” Aubrey curses, annoyed by how effective the blonde’s teasing is. “I’ll crash with Kim, Charlie, Angel, hell! I’ll crash with the freaking Maverick! Literally, anyone is better than you!” 

Basil frowns at the mention of Kim, looking at her with an almost sympathetic expression, before quickly switching to a confused look. 

“The who now?” he asks, genuinely confused. 

Suddenly, Aubrey feels very nervous. 

“The Mav—Mikhael, the weird weeb guy? The baker twins’ brother?” she replies, practically begging Basil to understand her. She never thought she’d dread someone not acknowledging the freaking Maverick of all people.  

But then again, she also never thought she’d wake up in a different universe, so she really ought to start expecting the unexpected at this point. 

“Oh!” Basil replies with clear recognition, causing Aubrey to feel a brief surge of relief, which soon fades as he continues. “He still calls himself that in your world?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah... Why—” she replies, hesitant to quiz Basil any further. “Why doesn’t he in this world?” she asks, secretly dreading the answer. 

The blonde scratches his chin, pausing for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. 

“He... insisted everyone call him that for like... a week, I think. Then, Boss, you remember that guy, right?” 

“Sadly, yeah.” 

“Yeah, well, he refused to indulge Mikhael, so then they got in a fight and—” Basil stops, physically cringing as he recalls the event. “Boss beat him up... it was like, really bad. Pretty sure that’s why Boss moved out of town, I think he got expelled or something.” 

They say a tiny butterfly flapping its wings can cause a hurricane weeks later. Aubrey always thought that a load of hyperbolic nonsense. But she recognises Basil’s story. It was how she met Mikhael in the first place: he was getting his ass handed to him by Boss, so she stepped in, saved his hide, and a week later had the fool fully integrated into the Hooligans. But in this world, Mari never died, so Aubrey didn’t take her rage out on Boss, and Mikhael got his ass beat. 

‘If there’s no Maverick... does that mean—’ 

“But... the Hooligans?” she mumbles, thinking aloud. 

“Hooligans?” Basil quizzes, causing Aubrey’s heart to drop. 

‘Goddamn butterfly effect...’ 

“I’m sorry, Aubrey, but you—the other you isn’t really friends with any of the people you mentioned, those... hooligans?” Basil replies, apologetic but clearly confused. 

“Not even Kim?” 

“Uhhh,” the blonde hesitates. “I mean, I think you two were friends for a bit.” 

“You think?!" 

“You—she was vague with the details, okay!” 

Right, so befriending—or rather, rekindling her friendship with Kim is getting added to her ‘alternate universe to-do list’. That girl has had Aubrey’s back for years now, so she doesn’t care if her other self thinks she’s too good for Kim. Delinquents have to stick together. 

“So basically... I’m stuck with you?” Aubrey asks, unenthusiastically. 

“Yep, I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other,” Basil replies, sounding about as thrilled as she is. 

“Brilliant...” she grumbles. “So, now what?” 

The blonde pauses for a moment, and Aubrey can practically see the cogs turning in his head, until he eventually replies. 

“Well, we could look around town, see if anything is different?” he suggests, clearly not having expected to get this far. 

“Sure, screw it, why not?” she replies lamely. 

Honestly, she is curious about this world. Sure, the town looks the same, but she’s in a brand new universe! There has to be something different about it. Well, aside from the obvious... 

“That’s the spirit!” Basil responds with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on then, I think I know where to start,” he adds, setting off back towards the Church. 

Aubrey rolls her eyes but still follows after him, not before taking one last glance at the tombstone though. 

“I’m sorry? World War... Two?” Basil asks. 

Aubrey freezes. 

“Nah, I’m just messing with you!” the blonde laughs. “No, that—that happened here too, unfortunately,” he adds awkwardly. 

“You’re hilarious,” Aubrey deadpans.

“Yeah, sorry, that—that was in poor taste...” 

“...Freak.” 

They’ve been discussing any potential differences between their worlds for a while now, although they’ve both been skirting around certain subjects.  

Still, so far, seemingly everything in this world is the same as her own. Almost every major historical event she can recall, Basil has recognised, and every location they’ve visited is just how she remembers it. Faraway, and the world at large is the same, to put it simply, Aubrey has been transported to another universe, and the only major differences are that Mari didn’t die and her mother did... 

Aubrey is religious, but she’s not exactly a zealot; she’s had her fair share of doubts, with more crises of faith than she’d care to admit. But right now, she’s more certain than ever that God is real—

And that he must absolutely despise her.  

She’s the butt of a cosmic joke, and she’s dreading the punchline. 

‘What did they do differently? What did I—she do differently? ’ Aubrey wonders. 

Mari is alive in this universe, and Aubrey can’t help but ask why. 

It sounds terrible, but honestly, her mother has always been one bottle away from an untimely death, so she isn’t too surprised to learn that one version of her kicked the bucket a few years earlier. Sure, it’s upsetting, but... Okay, no. She is not ready to unpack any of that yet. 

But Mari. Loveable, reliable Mari, the big sister of the group, who smiled until the day she took her own life. 

‘Why is she alive? How is she alive? ’ 

It doesn’t make sense. Did someone notice the signs sooner? Did her parents or Hero talk her down? Was Mari just... happier here? Or— 

‘Oh God...’ 

What if Mari isn’t happier here? What if something just delayed her attempt?! 

Aubrey suddenly feels nauseous. But if her hunch is right, then she will do everything in her power to prevent that from happening. She failed to notice the signs once; she won’t fail again. 

“We’re approaching our next stop soon,” Basil suddenly says, snapping Aubrey out of her thoughts. She sees him hesitate for a moment, before eventually continuing. “Fair warning, this one might be a bit... much.” 

“I doubt it,” Aubrey replies, dismissing his concerns. 

So far, every stop has been the same thing. All the houses are how she remembers them, same for the shops, the park, everything. Although this street does look really famili—

... 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah...” 

It’s her house. Or rather, where it should be. An empty lot stands where the dump she called home once did. 

“How?” she asks. 

“Demolished a couple of years back,” Basil replies, solemnly. “There was nothing to save. You got your belongings and whatever your mom left you, but the house...” 

Aubrey always knew it was crumbling around her, but still, she always thought there would be something left to salvage, that one day, maybe just maybe, someone would actually make this shack into a home. 

Clearly, she was dead wrong. 

“The council ordered it to be torn down. They deemed it a ‘health and safety’ risk... I think you technically own the land though, but I’m not sure. We were kids at the time, and the legal stuff was... messy," Basil explains, clearly uncomfortable recalling the event. 

“I lived there for years... I still live there,” Aubrey states, staring blankly at the empty space before her. 

“...Aubrey I—” 

“It was right there. Everyone could see it.” Her right hand clenches around the hem of her mini-skirt. “And no one cared.” 

“...” 

“ A health and safety risk, ” she laughs joylessly. 

“I’m so sor—” 

“Can it... Let’s—Let’s just go.” 

“Aubrey...” 

“Let’s. Just. Go.” 

“I... Okay. I-I have one last stop... but I think you’ll like this one,” Basil replies, with a weak smile. 

Aubrey doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t object either. She lets Basil take the lead and stares at the empty plot until it’s out of sight. 

“Orange Joe?” Basil asks, snapping his fingers, like this is his ‘gotcha’ moment. 

“Unfortunately... think it got discontinued though, thank God,” Aubrey replies, rolling her eyes. 

The blonde has been listing off random places, objects, people, anything he can think of really, for about twenty minutes now. In his words, he’s ‘narrowing down any possible differences’ between their worlds that they might have missed. But he’s still avoiding anything to do with their—his friends and is clearly just trying to take her mind off of her Mo— her house.  

Her house...  

It’s a nice sentiment, but one that’s wasted on Aubrey. She finds Basil’s distractions far more annoying than engaging. 

“Ah, your Kel must be heartbroken!” he jokes; his laughter dying as soon as it starts, after he notices her scowling face. 

“I thought I told you to stop saying your...” she growls, staring daggers at the flower boy. 

“R-Right... Well! What about the Recycultists?” 

“Oh, for—Basil, will you just shut—wait the what now?!” Aubrey asks, her anger replaced by sheer bewilderment. 

“Hey! There’s a difference!” Basil beams. “That might mean something?” he suggests, cautiously optimistic. 

“I doubt it. What even is a recyclist?” she asks, frowning. “Sounds... dumb.” 

“Recycultist,” the blonde corrects. “And are you familiar with mass psychogenic illness?” he asks, his tone surprisingly casual despite the topic. 

“Uhhh, no.” 

“Well, basically, a bunch of people started worshipping a bin.” 

“...I actually hate this town.” 

The rest of their walk is in silence, but Aubrey isn’t complaining. Besides, she figured out their destination about twenty minutes ago—strolling into the park just confirms her suspicions. They’re going to the old hangout spot. 

“You remember the way, right?” Basil suddenly asks. 

“Yep,” Aubrey replies casually, pushing through shrubbery as she makes her way towards the clearing. 

About a year after forming the Hooligans, she and her gang took the spot for themselves. Her logic was that no one else was using it, and Mari wasn’t around to scold her for going there. 

The older girl had declared the spot off-limits years ago, right after Sunny almost drowned in the lake. A damn shame, the spot was secluded and peaceful, and looking back, a lot of Aubrey’s best memories are from the time she spent there. Of course, it’s still fun hanging out there with her gang, but... it doesn’t feel the same, not really anyway.  

That’s probably just nostalgia talking, though. 

Still, Aubrey can’t help but wonder if this world’s Mari would be okay with them going here. The thought nags at the back of her mind until she can’t ignore it any longer. Sighing, she turns to face Basil. The blonde is glancing at the woods around them, clearly reminiscing. That look in and of itself should confirm her suspicions, but she still decides to go ahead and quiz the flower boy. 

“You guys come here much?” she asks as casually as she can. 

She hates talking to this Basil... or any Basil for that matter. But this one makes her feel especially guilty weird. But unfortunately for Aubrey, he’s her only guide to this world, so if she wants answers, she has to speak to him. 

“Hm? Oh! No, Mari doesn’t like us coming here after... you know,” he replies, solemnly. 

“Sunny?” she guesses, whilst awkwardly dodging around a warning sign, the sight of which seemingly alarms Basil. 

“Uhh... yeah, she’s still super protective of him, especially after everything,” he replies, shuddering slightly. “I think it kind of bothers him some days though,” he adds musingly. 

“He should be grateful,” Aubrey grumbles as they finally enter the clearing. 

“You—you know that’s not fair...” Basil murmurs, his eyes widening as they finally enter the spot. “Wow... It’s as beautiful as I remember.” 

It is. Although, it’s a lot more overgrown than the one in her world. The grass is taller, and wildflowers grow everywhere, but the dock looks just as rickety as the one she remembers though.  

It’s a sight for the eyes, and yet another difference between this world and her own.  

‘So overgrown.’ 

This Mari must have been steadfast in her decision to keep the group out of here. When she meets her, Aubrey will have to be careful to not mention this little trip. 

‘When I meet her...’ 

“H-Hey,” Basil stutters. “I’ve been meaning to ask... how did your—how did Mari—” 

The blonde’s words fall on deaf ears, as Aubrey’s gaze is suddenly transfixed on the strange statue towering over the lake. It’s covered in moss and visibly more weathered than the one back home. Still, it’s nothing special, she’s seen this statue countless times, and yet... looking at it, she can’t help but recall— 

“Come on! You’ll be fine!” Kel yells.  

‘Boys...’ Aubrey internally groans.  

Kel and Hero have been taking turns diving into the lake for what feels like hours now. Somehow, they even managed to rope Sunny into it, much to her annoyance. It was loud enough with two of them splashing around—did they seriously need a third?!  

Then again, Sunny isn’t exactly the loudest...  

Whatever, her point still stands!  

Why can’t the boys just appreciate the quiet! Basil gets it! Why can’t—  

*SPLASH*  

‘That sounded... loud.’  

Looking over at the lake reveals two mortified brothers and noticeably absent Sunny. Aubrey suddenly feels very nervous but tries to ignore it.  

‘He’ll be fine, he just had a messy dive, he’ll be back up any second now!’ she reasons to herself.  

Another second passes.   

Sunny doesn’t rise.  

In the blink of an eye, Mari is gone from her spot beside Aubrey, sprinting across the dock and diving into the depths without any hesitation.  

The spot is deathly quiet.   

No one says a word. Aubrey hasn’t even finished processing what just happened when Mari suddenly and loudly re-emerges from the lake. Splashing and coughing, Mari lifts herself and Sunny up onto the dock.   

The world around Aubrey blurs. People are moving, yelling, and panicking, but all she hears is static. Only one thing is in focus. Sunny. He's cradled in his sister’s arms, completely slack with his eyes closed... he looks like a corpse.   

Aubrey shudders at the thought, her breath suddenly hitching as she notices something. Sunny’s chest is as still as the rest of him.  

He isn’t breathing.  

Her eyes involuntarily drift upwards to Mari. She’s crying... Aubrey has never seen her cry before. The sight is about as demoralising as it gets, and it isn’t long until the young girl feels her own eyes swell with tears.  

But then... Mari smiles.  

Aubrey looks down and sees that Sunny is coughing up water, clearly uncomfortable, but still alive, still breathing.  

The group is upon the siblings in a heartbeat, practically smothering them with worry, concern, and attention. Mari has to politely but firmly tell them all to give them some breathing room.  

The rest of the day is a distant memory, but Aubrey distinctly remembers how relieved she felt.  

‘If I’d lost one of you,’ she had thought at the time. ‘I don’t know what I’d do.’  

“Aubrey?” Basil’s voice calls, practically tearing the delinquent out of her thoughts. “Are you okay?” he asks, cautiously. 

“...Yeah,” she lies. “Just... lost in thought.” 

“I get that,” the blonde chuckles, cupping a wildflower in his hand. “It still feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?” 

“Something like that.” 

“I was so relieved when they surfaced... I don’t know what I’d do if they di—” Basil goes to say, stopping midway as he notices her glare. “Sorry, that was insensitive.” 

Aubrey doesn’t reply; instead, she continues to glare at the lake before her. It’s ridiculous. She comes here all the time in her world, and during all those hangouts and meetings, not once has this lake bothered her.  

So why is it bothering her today?  

Why is that statue, that same one she’s spent countless days lounging near, suddenly a source of dread? 

“Do you still come here in your world?” Basil suddenly asks. 

“Yeah, me and my gang hang out here a lot,” she replies nonchalantly. 

“You’re in a gang?” 

“What about it?” Aubrey asks, almost challenging him to reply. 

“Nothing... I guess,” he replies, unconvincingly. “Are they the Hooligans? The people you mentioned earlier?” 

Aubrey simply rolls her eyes and groans. She doesn’t need his judgement. 

“Yeah, and they’re cool,” she finds herself replying, instinctively defending her friends. “Strange bunch, but they’re reliable, and they were there for me when none of you were,” she adds bitterly. 

Basil doesn’t reply. 

“But whatever,” Aubrey groans. “This was a waste of time. Let’s just go.” 

“Okay... I guess the next stop is...” the blonde pauses, thinking for a second. “Either Sunny or Kel’s place.” 

“...Is there literally nowhere else we can go to first?” she asks, desperate for an out. 

Aubrey is not at all prepared to face any more of her ‘friends’, Basil has been bad enough, but Kel? Sunny?!  

No way. 

At least with Mari and Hero, she’ll have a day to mentally prepare herself or at least try to anyway. But what Basil is suggesting—visiting her ‘boyfriend’? That might actually kill her. 

“You’ll have to meet them eventually,” Basil reasons. “They’re nice, you know th—” 

“No, dumbass, I really don’t know, actually,” Aubrey snaps. “Kel is an obnoxious prick and Sunny... Christ, Basil, I haven’t seen him in years, and you’re saying I’m dating him? WHAT AM I EVEN SUPPOSED TO SAY TO HIM?! I DON’T KNOW HIM!” she stresses, because it’s true, she hasn’t met her—the Sunny from her world in years.  

She doesn’t know what kind of person he is these days, let alone what some random variant of him is like. 

“Hey! Kel’s a nice guy, just... not always the brightest,” Basil replies defensively. “And Sunny... well, he’s great. Sure, he’s quiet, but you’ll never meet a better listener! Plus, he’s compassionate, creative, so talented yet so modest, honestly, he’s just— 

“Perfect?” she guesses, recalling his flower spiel from all those years ago. 

Back when they were all still friends, the blonde had, with surprising detail, explained which flower he thought best represented them all. They were all rather flattering, but none so much as Sunny’s. 

‘Simple, modest, perfect.’ 

She remembers agreeing with his choice of words at the time, although finding the way he said them rather... suspicious. Still, it seemed more accurate than his assessment of her. 

‘Always true to myself... Right.’ 

Even at the time, she never really believed that. Now she just wonders if he ever really knew her. 

“Y-Yeah,” Basil stutters, clearly flustered. “Well, the other you seemed to agree,” he adds, with a poor imitation of a smug grin, clearly trying to deflect his own embarrassment back on her. It’s not very effective. 

“You like him,” she states more than asks. 

The words leave her mouth impulsively and involuntarily, and she watches in real time as Basil’s face turns to an almost cartoonish shade of red. 

“I—YOU—WHAT?!” he yells. “W-WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!” 

“I mean, it was always kind of obvious,” she states awkwardly. “And you didn’t deny it.” 

“I-I—URGH!" he groans in defeat. “Okay... you’re right, I do,” he confesses, caving almost immediately. 

‘Wow. That was easy.’ 

“Present tense?” Aubrey asks smugly, taking pleasure in finally turning the tables on him. 

The flower boy doesn’t even bother replying; instead, he just groans into his hands.  

Aubrey laughs, simply enjoying seeing how flustered the blonde is at first, that is, until a cruel thought worms its way into her head. All day she's dealt with his obnoxious teasing and lame jokes; if the Basil she knew tried this, then she’d have put him in a shallow grave by now. So, all things considered, she’s been remarkably patient today.  

It’s only fair that she gets to knock this flower boy down a peg or two. 

“Y’know...” she starts, smirking slightly. “I’m surprised you’re so cool with the other me dating him.” 

“I—I’m... happy for them,” he replies, unconvincingly. 

“Wow. That’s really mature of you, Basil,” Aubrey replies, tilting her head. “Especially considering she definitely knew.” 

... 

“What?” 

“I mean, I knew,” Aubrey explains. “I figured it out when we were kids, and we’ve barely spoken in the past what? Four years now. So, if I knew then...” 

“I—she—you don’t—” Basil stutters, looking visibly hurt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

For a brief moment, the delinquent hesitates. This is the first time today that this Basil has resembled the one she knows. His smugness, his confidence, and even his smile have all been drained away in an instant. Frankly, he looks pathetic, and that should be hilarious. God knows she’s laughed at that face countless times. But today it just feels... wrong. She doesn’t even know why she’s doing this; she just feels compelled to. 

‘Whatever, Basil’s Basil. This one just hasn’t shown his true colours yet,' she rationalises. ‘If anything, I’ll be doing the other me a favour here.’  

“Oh, but I do, Basil, I really do,” she continues, her tone growing crueller as she continues. “She knew you never stood a chance, because I mean, it’s you.” 

Basil frowns at her, but she remains undeterred. 

“You’re a joke! A pathetic loser! She knew you’d never confront her about it!” Aubrey taunts, her resentment towards the blonde of her world creeping in as she continues. “Because no matter the reality, you’re still a God. Damn. Coward.” 

Basil glares at her, his eye twitching slightly as he clenches his fists. 

“I mean, she stole your crush, and you gave her a room?! Christ, the jokes write themselves!” she laughs. “You make it too eas—” 

“Okay, that’s enough!” Basil snaps, strolling right up to her, till his face is mere inches from her own. “I really don’t know why you’re acting like this! I haven’t done anything to you! I’m trying to help you!” he yells, never once breaking eye contact with her. 

“And I’ve put up with your insults all day, but this? This is where I draw the line!” he adds. “You don’t know anything about, me, or Sunny or anything! And you are nothing, nothing like the Aubrey I know, she is twice the person you’ll ever—”

“Oh yeah! Because she’s just little Miss Perfect!" Aubrey retorts, genuine anger creeping into her voice as she continues. “Yeah, with all her lovely friends and a nice home, how could she ever be anything like rotten old me? Except, oh wait! She is me!” she rants, old frustrations and new jealousies surfacing. 

“That’s—” 

“That’s the truth you delusional moron! She knew Basil—” Aubrey continues, getting up in Basil’s face, and prodding him in the chest. 

“She just.”  

She prods him again. 

“Didn’t.” 

And again. 

“Care.” 

And with a final hard jab to the chest, the blonde, who had been standing as still as a statue through her entire tirade, staggers slightly, before recovering, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with her again. 

“Shut up!” he growls. 

“God, you are so pathetic. Even when you’re angry, you look like you’re gonna cry!” Aubrey mocks, smiling as she goes for the killing blow. “You know why Sunny picked her instead of you?” 

“...”  

“Because I don’t cry like a bitch when things don’t go my way,” she smirks, failing to realise that she wasn’t talking about her counterpart anymore. 

“...I’m going to hit you now,” Basil states with a deadpan expression. 

“PFT!” Aubrey snorts, unable to hold back her laughter. She’s been bullying this freak for years, and he’s never done anything about it, but this Basil is going to throw hands after one day? Fat chance. “Oh yeah? Sure you—ARGH!” 

Staggering backwards, Aubrey is briefly stunned. Blinking a few times, she finally processes the very pissed-off Basil standing before her, with his fist stretched out... It slowly falls back down to his side as a conflicted expression crosses his face, but the damage is already done. She feels the wetness on her lips before the pain, but when it hits, it stings like hell.  

Wiping the blood from her nose, she glares at the blonde, then smiles. 

‘Finally fighting back...’ 

“Alright then... you versus me? That’s how we’re playing? Fine by me! Bring it on, freak!” she roars with a wild grin. 

Today has been an emotional rollercoaster and a very confusing one at that. She’s needed something she can understand for a while now, and if there’s one thing she knows, it’s how to fight. 

“Wait Aubrey, I—” he tries to protest. 

“Oh no!” she interrupts. “You threw the first punch, mister, and I’ve been waiting all day for this. So, I hope you got a good dentist freak, because I’m about to break all your teeth.” 

“...Nice one-liner,” Basil laughs joylessly, shaking his head in a mix of despair and disappointment. “Okay then... fine!” he adds, raising his fists. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Motherfu—” Aubrey curses, stopping to spit a glob of bloody phlegm onto the grass. “Who the hell taught you to fight?!” 

She can barely believe it, but Basil is actually holding his own in this fight. He isn’t exactly kicking her ass, mind you, but he’s got a few solid hits in, and he didn’t go down after the first headbutt, so he’s already doing miles better than she expected.  

Strangely enough, some part of her is almost... relieved that Basil is finally fighting back. Even though this isn’t actually Basil—or well, the Basil she knows anyway. 

‘...Goddamn this multiverse crap is confusing.’ 

Not as confusing as her thoughts right now are, however. She simultaneously wants to beat this prick to a bloody pulp and let him beat her to a bloody pulp.  

She can’t explain or rationalise either of them. Hell, she doesn’t fully know why she’s antagonised this flower boy so much in the first place. 

‘Is that just who I am? Someone who hurts people? ’ 

Well, if she is, then she’s at least going to be good at it, because she is not letting this punk get the last hit in. 

“You did, actually,” Basil replies, casually. 

“Huh,” Aubrey mumbles in surprise. “Guess other me isn’t a complete softie after all.” 

Considering the way the blonde had described her counterpart so far, Aubrey had fairly assumed the girl was a total pushover. But clearly, she underestimated her alternate self, because she taught Basil how to throw a mean punch. 

“She teach you how to dodge, though?” she asks, lunging at Basil once more. 

He blocks the first few hits to his head with his arms but is soon caught in a rhythm of parrying that she’s quick to exploit. After hitting the same spot over and over, she mimes a punch at that same position, then waits for him to block again, before switching focus and kicking him full force in the shin. 

Clearly caught off guard, the blonde’s defence collapses as his arms fall away from his face, providing an opening that Aubrey happily takes.  

Launching her head forward, her skull collides with his, instantly stunning him. From there, it’s a simple pattern of left and right hooks. 

‘Left.' 

‘Right.' 

‘Left.' 

‘Right.' 

‘Lef—Oh shi—'

Falling for the very same trap she exploited earlier. Basil suddenly dodges her swing, catching her completely off balance, before delivering the hardest sucker punch she’s ever had right into her stomach.

Winded, Aubrey stumbles backwards, collapsing down onto the dock, struggling for air as Basil approaches. 

“I—I think—we're done,” he says between pants. “Now let’s—ARGH!” he groans in pain, as the beating he took seemingly catches up with him. 

Aubrey would laugh, but honestly, she isn’t faring much better. She definitely got more hits in, but the punches Basil did manage to land hurt like hell. 

“Go fu—” she tries to reply, before devolving into a coughing fit. 

“Come on, let's just go,” Basil proposes, likewise struggling to breathe, as he reaches out a hand down to her. 

Aubrey stares at it, then stares at him.  

His nose is bloody, and his lip is busted, but he’s looking down at her with regret and pity. 

‘Why... WHY?! ’ 

She beat him to a pulp and he still pitties her?! 

‘...Why?'

The confusion, the pain, the guilt, all these feelings swirl in Aubrey’s mind. She can’t make sense of any of it, and so, like always, she resorts to the easiest solution. Anger. 

Grabbing his hand, in one quick motion, Aubrey pulls herself up, grabs him, and shoves him with all her remaining strength, causing him to tumble backwards right towards the—

The lake... 

‘Oh fu—’ 

“She’s probably never gonna let us back there,” Aubrey muses. “But... I’m not sure, I’d want to go back anyway,” she adds, shuddering as she recalls how pale Sunny was.  

“Yeah... Kel said Mari still isn’t talking to Hero,” Basil responds, solemnly.  

It’s been about a week since Sunny nearly drowned in their hangout spot. Mari forbade any of them from returning, and so far she’s remained adamant about that decision.  

“I hope they can figure it out,” Aubrey frowns, remembering her parents' own failing relationship. “I don’t want them to hate each other,” she sniffles.  

“H-Hey! Don’t cry!” Basil panics. “They’ll be fine, I’m sure of it! They’ll talk it out and we’ll find a new spot, something even bigger and better than the last one!”  

“You... you think so?”  

“I do.”  

“O-Okay... it won’t have a lake though?”  

“Uhhh, probably not... is that a bad thing?”  

“I—” Aubrey pauses, images of a pale Sunny flashing through her mind. “No... No.”  

...  

“Honestly, I’m... I’m kinda glad we’re not going back,” Basil murmurs. “I can’t swim either, and after S-Sunny...” he adds, slowly trailing off.  

“Basil, are you—”  

“Hey, guys!” Kel yells, sprinting over and interrupting their conversation. “How’s it—AH!” he screams, as Aubrey immediately spins around and attempts to hit him.  

“WE WERE HAVING A MOMENT, JERK!”  

Time almost seems to freeze as she watches Basil fall. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, knowing what’s going to happen, but being powerless to stop it. He can’t swim at all, and she’s not much better. If he falls into that lake, she probably won’t be able to pull him out. 

‘You’ll have killed the only person who gives a damn about you.’  

‘No.’ 

No, she won’t allow this. She can’t allow this. 

With what little energy she has left, Aubrey lunges forward once more and just barely grabs the collar of Basil’s shirt. For a brief moment, a second at most, she’s stood there at the end of the dock practically dangling him over the lake. The blonde’s blue eyes are wide with shock and fear.  

His life is literally in her hands... 

Exerting the very last ounce of her strength, she yanks him back onto the dock, screaming as she does so. He collapses down onto the planks with a thud, and she joins him barely a second later. 

Bruised and exhausted, the two teens simply lay there in silence, staring at the sky. The quiet is only disrupted by their collective, strained breathing. 

“I almost killed you...” Aubrey suddenly states. 

“You don’t hit that hard,” Basil jokes lamely. 

She can vividly imagine his forced smile. And if she looked to her left, she could confirm it, but she can’t look at him right now. She just can’t. 

“You can’t swim...” she states after another stretch of silence. 

“I can’t,” he agrees. 

Aubrey feels her stomach drop. 

“So, if you fell in...” she begins, as a thousand intrusive scenarios claw their way into the forefront of her mind. The picture of a pale, unmoving Basil chief among them.

“Well...” he starts, his tone hesitant and uncertain. “You saved me so... thanks? I guess.” 

‘I’m sorry’ dies on Aubrey’s tongue. All she can muster is a weak “We should go.” 

Basil doesn’t argue, and so they rise, groan a bit, then set off from the spot, together. 

“I’m sorry,” Basil apologises out of nowhere. 

They’d been walking down the path out of the spot in silence for about a minute now. Usually, they’d clear it in like twenty seconds, but as it turns out, beating the snot out of each other slows you down a bit. 

“For what?” Aubrey asks, genuinely baffled. 

“For hitting you I—” 

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she interjects. “Don’t apologise when people are pricks to you Basil, Jesus. People will just walk all over you if... if you let them,” she stutters, coming to a sudden and painful realisation. 

‘Oh... that’s why he never fought back.’ 

“Right... still, I shouldn’t have hit you. And it’s not about Sunny, I know it seemed like that, but... you’ve just been acting like such a jerk, and I only want to help you and you just—” Basil rants, before stopping and sighing. “I don’t know what happened between you and me in your world, but I’m not that person... I think it might be best if we both stop treating each other like we would the other us... does that make any sense?” 

“Yeah... yeah it does,” she mumbles in response. “Basil, about earlier, I just—I—” 

‘Just say “I’m sorry” for God’s sake.'  

“I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that,” she adds. “I just have a lot going on right now and it’s—I don’t know... old habits die hard, I guess.” 

“...You always treat the other me like that?” Basil asks. 

Aubrey doesn’t reply; instead, she stares at the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact. 

“I see...” he mumbles. 

‘I’m sorry.’

Silently agreeing to talk this out later, the pair continue the walk without another word, eventually emerging out into the park. 

“So... now what?” Aubrey asks. 

“Well, we either go to Sunny’s place or—Kel?!” Basil suddenly calls out. 

Barely a few feet away, two figures stand, engaged in what seems to be a very one-sided conversation. Both turn around upon hearing Basil’s voice, their eyes widening in shock.  

Aubrey recognises them both immediately. 

“Guys?!” Kel yells excitedly, sprinting over to them. “Woah! You two look terrible... what happened?” he asks, his smile dropping as a concerned expression takes its place. 

The tan teen looks about the same as the one from her world, although his jersey might be a different colour. As for his companion... 

Sunny stands just a little shorter than his friend, still rocking that same haircut he had as a kid, with khaki shorts, a white undershirt, a black jumper that’s probably way too warm for summer, and a black eyepatch covering his right eye. 

‘...Wait what?!' 

As he approaches, he throws a peace sign, then frowns as he sees the state they’re in. 

“Hey,” he greets quietly, tilting his head slightly in concern, before suddenly turning to Aubrey. “You good, babe?” 

... 

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!' 

Chapter Text

“HELLOOOOO? Earth to Aubrey?” an obnoxious voice calls out. 

The girl in question blinks, and the world around her suddenly comes back into focus. As does the annoying tan face mere inches from her own. His hair is the same, his outfit is mostly the same, and his stench... 

‘Christ, there’s got to be at least one universe where Kel showers.’ 

“I think this one’s broken,” Kel jokes, waving his hand in front of her face. “You guys think we can get a refund on—ACK!” the teen chokes, as he receives a firm punch to the face. 

Collapsing down to the ground, Kel lies sprawled out on the grass, his eyes spinning in his head. Aubrey can’t help but smirk at the sight. 

“Ughh... I’m okay,” he mumbles, dazed but still smiling... because of course he is. 

“You good, Aubrey?” Basil asks, his tone indiscernible. “You were just kind of standing there... for like, a while,” he adds nervously. 

“Y-Yeah,” Aubrey replies, briefly surprised by her own stutter. “Just... zoned out there for a bit,” she continues with a shrug. 

“Woah, hey! That’s Sunny’s thing!” Kel yells in mock protest, practically leaping back up onto his feet. “She’s stealing your bit, man!” he laughs, draping an arm over Sunny’s shoulder. 

Aubrey groans at the sight, as does Sunny, who lightly jabs his friend but doesn’t push him off. For a second, she could almost swear there was a hint of a smile tugging at the cyclops' lips. Sadly, it fades as fast as it came, as his eyes—uhhh, eye locks back onto her. 

‘His eye...’ 

A million and one questions are raised by the presence of that eyepatch. But she can’t exactly ask any of them right now. Although she’s almost tempted to continue throttling Basil for neglecting to mention something as important as that. But then again, she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with info on her world either.

That being said, she also has a lot of questions about the... nature of her and Sunny's... relationship. 

“You good, babe?”

‘This world might be the death of me...’ 

Snapping out of her thoughts, she sees that Sunny has escaped Kel’s grasp and is now standing right in front of her. Unsure of how to react, she stays rooted in place, still as a statue, while he slowly reaches out a hand towars her, as if to cup her face.

“You’re hurt,” he states, his one eye full of worry. 

It’s strange hearing his voice. Even after they all stopped being friends, she still grew up around Kel and Basil, they shared classes and rode the same bus to school, and so, she heard their voices mature over time, going from high-pitched and whiney to well... still whiney, but much less shrill. It’s the kind of difference you don’t really notice—a gradual shift over time.  

But when you don’t see someone for four years, said difference becomes a lot more apparent. 

“I’m fine,” she eventually replies, pushing his hand away from her face with a bit more force than intended. Sunny looks somewhat dejected, and Aubrey feels surprised by just how much that stings. “Just uh...” she goes to continue, before realising she doesn't actually have a cover story. 

‘Should I tell them about the fight? What about me? My world? Would they even believe me? Basil barely did... ’ she ponders, internally weighing up her options. ‘Ugh! God damn it! Stupid alternate universe...’ 

Aubrey doesn’t know these people; she barely knows the ones from her world! So how is she supposed to lie to them? They might see right through her! Basil forgot to mention that Sunny is a freaking cyclops, so who’s to say this Kel isn’t the next Einstein? 

...

Okay, she very much doubts that last bit, but the point still stands!

Out of ideas, she turns to look at Basil and silently begs him to save their asses. He meets her gaze with a confused, almost annoyed look that screams ‘WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!’  

She glares back at him and hopes the message of ‘SOMETHING! ANYTHING!’ is understood. If the resigned sigh the blonde lets out in response is any indication, then her message was heard loud and clear. 

“We got in a fight,” Basil states, trying his best to sound nonchalant. Although, that façade soon collapses as all eyes suddenly fall upon him. 

Aubrey feels her own eye twitch. Staring daggers at the blonde, she mouths curses at him, but he simply looks back at her with a silent plea for trust. Not having much choice, she concedes and prays that the blonde can blag as well as he whines. 

“With who?” Kel asks, sounding oddly... protective. 

“Kel...” Basil replies, slightly exasperated. “We fought each other.” 

‘ Oh... okay. ’ 

So, she’s getting thrown under the metaphorical bus here. As annoyed as she is, Aubrey can’t say she isn’t surprised or undeserving of this. 

‘You reap what you sow...’ 

“But... why?” Kel asks, more confused than annoyed. 

 “It’s... it’s been a really long day,” Basil laughs awkwardly. No one else laughs, so he hastily continues. “Neither of us slept very well last night—” 

‘That’s an understatement.’ 

“—So, we were both in a bad mood but decided to hang out anyway,” he continues. “And... don’t tell Mari... but we visited the Hangout spot.” 

“Yeah, I was gonna ask about that,” Kel replies, frowning as he looks past them and towards the shrubbery they emerged from. “You really shouldn’t have—” 

“I know, I know,” Basil interrupts, pouting like a grounded child. “It was my idea, Aubrey didn’t want to go, but I insisted, I thought it would cheer us up... it didn’t. It just brought back bad memories. Aubrey got upset, said some things that made me upset, and it all just kind of escalated from there.” 

“I think I follow,” Kel mutters, giving Sunny a worried glance. The raven-haired teen doesn’t reciprocate and actively avoids his gaze. 

‘At least one of us is,’ Aubrey thinks, not quite getting what Basil’s plan is. He didn’t throw her under the bus, but instead told some gutted version of the day’s events, skipping past all the more... problematic details. 

But why is Kel buying it? It’s hardly an explanation, let alone a justification! And why did he look at Sunny like that? 

‘...Oh.’ 

Sunny almost drowned in that lake, the other her is dating Sunny, Basil ‘insisted’ they go in there, they fought...  

The flower boy has rephrased their fight about Sunny... into a fight about Sunny.  

‘Huh... clever.’   

Who would have thought Basil was such a good liar? 

“Basically, yeah,” Aubrey adds, baffled yet almost impressed by the blonde’s cover story. “I just got... carried away.” 

“But we’re good now,” Basil says, suddenly turning to look at her. “Right?” 

"..."

Are they? She spent all day treating him like crap for no real reason, then almost got him killed. She hates him because of something he didn’t do, but when she looks at him, she can’t help but see that blonde prick from her world.  But this isn’t the Basil she knows. He said as much himself. The boy standing before her, staring at her with pleading eyes, is someone who has swallowed his pride and done everything he can to help her, for no other reason than because she looks like the friend he loves. This Basil cares about his friends, this Basil didn’t tarnish their memories, this Basil can fight and lie, and yet... all Aubrey can ask is why.  

Why isn’t the Basil she knows the same? 

“People will just walk all over you if... if you let them...” 

He could have fought back, but he didn’t. 

‘Why? ’  

This Basil had one day with her and put his foot down. Whilst, his counterpart suffered at her hands for years, and never so much as raised his voice. 

‘Why? ’ 

It just doesn’t make any sense. But she knows she can’t keep punishing this man for the sins of another, she almost killed him, and he’s giving her another chance, so maybe... 

“Yeah... yeah, we’re good.” 

This is the least she can do. 

“Cool, cool,” Kel mumbles, a smile slowly forming on his face. “So~ If we’re all good, then do you guys wanna go grab some Gino’s?” 

‘Moving on already, typical Kel,’ Aubrey thinks, a small frown forming on her face. 

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the distraction—if anything, Kel getting them out of this conversation without question is the best possible outcome it’s just that... 

“You are way too nice to that guy,” Kim remarks, rolling her eyes. “He’s a total weirdo!”  

“You’re the one who said we needed more members,” Aubrey replies dismissively.  

“Yeah! People who aren’t weird!”  

Aubrey stops, turns to face her new friend, and raises her eyebrow.  

“Don’t look at me like that! He literally talks like a cartoon!”  

“He’s enthusiastic,” Aubrey retorts, annoyed that she’s having to put this much energy into this conversation.  

“A bit too enthusiastic...” her friend mumbles, before frowning and giving her a strange look. “Unlike you! We’re trying to start a gang here! Where’s the energy? The drive?!”  

“...”  

“You... you do still want to do this... right?” Kim asks, revealing a surprising amount of vulnerability in her expression.  

Truthfully, Aubrey couldn’t care less. It’s nothing against Kim, it’s just hard to be enthusiastic about anything right now, let alone making a new friend group. She used to think her old one would last forever, that it would be the six of them against the world.  

‘How naive.’  

She never really got along with Kim until about a month ago. But the aspiring delinquent gave Aubrey a chance when all her so-called ‘friends’ left her in the dust, so she wants to make this work, it’s just—

“Difficult...” she mumbles.  

“What?” Kim asks, genuinely confused.  

“Nothing,” she replies, blankly. “But I... I want to do this.”  

“Great! We’re gonna run this town, Aubs! Just you wait!” the delinquent smiles.  

Kim continues to ramble, but it falls on deaf ears as Aubrey suddenly stops in her tracks and stares towards the park. In the distance, she spots Kel playing basketball with a bunch of kids she doesn’t recognise, smiling widely, smiling—

Like nothing happened.

‘It’s barely been a year...’  

How can he smile like that?  How could he move on so fast?  How could he forget her? How—

“Aubs!” Kim suddenly calls out, interrupting her thoughts. She looks concerned, and at that moment, Aubrey realises she’s been clenching her fists.  

“He isn’t worth it,” her friend says, putting an arm around her. “Let’s go... we can go smash some stuff at the junkyard again! You still got that bat?”  

“I... yeah, yeah, I do,” Aubrey mumbles, appreciating the distraction. “I... I actually had an idea...”   

“Do tell!” Kim grins enthusiastically.  

The sight is infectious, and as the two walk away, Aubrey can’t help but smile a little too.  

“You got any nails?”  

Whatever, she shouldn’t be surprised. Kel has no tact; he’s the kind of guy who’d smile at a wake. She shouldn’t be shocked he’s moving past this already. 

‘If anything, you should be thankful, do you really want to stay on this topic all day? ’

“Is it lunch already?” Basil asks, reminding Aubrey that she is, in fact, still mid-conversation and should probably stop having flashbacks. 

‘Stupid park...’ 

This park, hell, this whole town is haunted. Alternate universe or not, Faraway brings back too many memories. 

“By the time we’re there, it will be,” Kel smiles. “Besides, it’s always lunchtime somewhere in the world!” 

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Basil laughs awkwardly. 

Looking over at Sunny, it’s immediately obvious that he’s conflicted, either he doesn’t believe them, or he does but doesn’t like how fast they’ve resolved things. Honestly, it’s hard to tell, her world’s Sunny was always cliff-faced, and this one is no different. 

‘Mari would be able to tell.’

Still, he doesn’t protest the idea of Gino’s, and Aubrey is hungry, so... 

“Yeah, I could go for pizza,” she states nonchalantly. 

“Heck yeah!” Kel replies, before flashing his trademark annoying grin again. “Race you there!” 

“Kel, you dense motherfu—I’m not going to—” 

But he’s already long gone before she can even finish her sentence. 

“...So are you going to—” Basil goes to ask. 

“UGH! Fine!” Aubrey groans, before chasing after the tan moron. 

“What... the... hell...” Aubrey curses between pants. 

“Come on, Aubs, I was going easy on ya!” Kel replies smugly. 

“Prick...” she mumbles in response, before stopping to take a deep breath. “How the hell do you even—” she goes to ask until a sudden coughing fit takes hold of her. 

‘Am I really this out of shape? ’ 

She had just barely managed to keep pace with the brown-haired buffoon, but it was very clear that he really was taking it easy. 

“Rigorous exercise, my dear Aubergine.” 

“I’m amazed your dumbass even knows what that word means... Also, call me that again, and I swear to God I’ll gut you like a—”  

“Rightio! Message received!” Kel responds, raising his hands in mock surrender as he backs away, all the while still smiling. “Of course, you’d have to catch me first~” he teases. 

“Kel, you son of a—” she goes to curse before suddenly noticing a figure behind him. “Wait! Kel, watch where you’re—” 

But it’s too late, Kel backs up and collides with the figure, causing him to jump, and them to curse. Aubrey’s eyes widen in shock as she realises who the tan teen just bumped into. 

“Watch it, nerd!” Kim yells, before stopping and blinking as she processes the people standing before her. “Oh... it’s you clowns.” 

“Hey, Kim,” Aubrey greets as casually as she can. 

She doesn’t know what their relationship is like in this world, but if the way Kim is looking at her is any indication, then it’s clearly not great. 

“Aubrey,” the girl replies, her tone unreadable. “Dumbass,” she adds, turning to glare at Kel. 

“Kimberly,” Kel ‘greets’ in turn. “Funny bumping into you here,” he adds, with the most shit-eating grin Aubrey has ever seen on a man. 

“Yeah, well, watch where you’re walking next time, nerd!” Kim replies, furrowing her brows. 

“Sorry about that,” Aubrey says, deciding to apologise on Kel’s behalf. “Me and the idiot were just—”

“I really don’t care,” the delinquent interrupts with a deadpan expression.  

“Oh...” she mumbles, dejectedly. 

Aubrey can’t help but frown at her ‘friend’s attitude. While she did kind of expect this (Kim was never the type to take crap from anyone, after all), it turns out that it’s a lot less fun being on the receiving end of her snarkiness. 

“Rude,” Kel frowns. 

“Whatever,” Kim replies, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got places to be. Later nerds,” she adds, strolling past them without a second glance. 

“Kim, wait!” Aubrey impulsively yells, the words leaving her mouth before her brain has even finished processing them. 

“Ugh... what do you want, Aubrey?” the candy addict asks, clearly not in the mood for this conversation. 

‘What do I want? ’ 

She doesn’t know this person; she could just let them walk away—they clearly don’t care for her, and it would be so easy... and yet, she doesn’t want to. Aubrey has watched her friends walk out on her so many times now... she can’t let Kim be among them, she just can’t. Not Kim, not her best friend. 

“Did you like... wanna hang out sometime?” she asks sheepishly. 

‘Damnit! Why am I so nervous? ’ 

Kim stares at her, seemingly at a loss for words. Aubrey can’t tell what’s going through her head. There are hints of anger and annoyance in her expression but also surprise and maybe even a hint of joy. Basil said they used to be friends in this world, and though she doesn’t know why exactly her other self cut ties with Kim, Aubrey is determined to mend that friendship while she’s here.

She’s burnt a lot of bridges throughout her life. It would be nice to build one for a change. 

“I—why?” Kim eventually asks. 

“I just... want to?” Aubrey replies awkwardly. 

“That’s—I—you’re...” Kim stutters, clearly struggling to find the right words. She pauses, sighs, and then continues after a second. “Yeah, alright then, why not? ...But not today, I’ve still got shit to do.”  

“I—yeah, that’s—that’s okay.” 

“Alright... well, see you later, nerd... I like the new look, by the way.” 

‘ Makes sense, you helped pick it out .’ 

“Thanks... see you around, Kim.” 

With their conversation concluded, Kim walks away without another word, leaving Aubrey feeling completely lost. She’s used to not feeling ‘cool’, she’s short-tempered and quick to act when she probably shouldn’t. ‘Level-headed’ is not a term that describes her. Still, she’s never felt like that before, so uncomfortable and nervous, it almost reminds her of... Basil. 

‘ So that’s how that feels... damn .’ 

“Awkward...” Kel suddenly states, reminding Aubrey of his presence. 

“Kel. Shut. Up.” She gares at the tan moron with enough intensity to melt solid rock. 

“Jeez! Okay!” he replies, once again holding his hands up in mock surrender, his frown only growing as she continues to glare at him. “I was just saying...” he adds, mumbling dejectedly. 

“Well, don’t,” Aubrey replies bluntly, embarrassed that someone else witnessed that train wreck of a conversation. Whatever, Kel can judge her all he wants; sure, that was quite awkward, but she got what she wanted. She and Kim are going to meet up at... some point, to do... something... 

‘Baby steps, Aubrey, baby steps.’ 

She’ll figure something out... eventually. But if nothing else, the fact that Kim even agreed to this is a good sign, it means whatever happened between them in this world wasn’t that bad. There’s still a friendship to be salvaged here and she’s determined to fix this. It’s either that or be stuck with Kel for the rest of... however long she’s here. 

The sound of approaching footsteps snaps Aubrey out of her thoughts and draws her attention as she turns around to see Basil and Sunny walking toward them. 

‘Great...’ 

“Whew! You guys are fast,” the blonde states with a nervous laugh, his forced smile fading fast as he notices her sour expression. “Is everything okay?” 

“We’re fine,” Aubrey replies. “Let’s just go get some pizza,” she adds before storming off towards Gino’s. 

She doesn’t see it, but as Aubrey walks away her three companions turn to look at each other, concerned expressions plastered on all their faces, although for very different reasons. The moment passes, and so, without a word, the boys follow after her. 

A familiar bell chime rings out as Aubrey opens the door to Gino's. Standing in the doorway for a second, she takes the time to look around the establishment, only to quickly realise that it’s the exact same as the one from her world. Being neither surprised nor disappointed at this point, she finally enters the restaurant and is promptly blasted by the alluring smell of cheese and grease.  

‘ Classic Gino's,’ she thinks, now suddenly feeling a lot hungrier. Making a beeline for her usual spot, she quickly takes a seat and lets out an exhausted sigh. She hadn’t even realised how tired she was until this very second, but she’s also not surprised, between a fight and a race, it’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out yet.  

The bell chimes again as the rest of her ‘friends’ pour into the restaurant. But Aubrey pays them no mind and instead enjoys the brief moment of solitary peace, becoming vaguely aware of a familiar tune coming from the nearby jukebox. 

‘...I think Sunny used to like this song .’ 

Speaking of the devil, the silent boy takes a seat next to her, much to her chagrin, whilst Kel and Basil sit opposite them. 

“You could have waited,” Basil says, with barely restrained frustration. 

“Wanted to get a good seat,” she replies, casually lying.  

In reality, she just wanted some space from these guys, but they don’t need to know that. 

“Well... you did a good job,” the blonde says, with a smile so forced it looks like his facial muscles are threatening to snap. 

"..."

"..."

“...So, are we going to order or what?” Kel asks, breaking the awkward silence. 

“You owe me,” Sunny states bluntly, pointing accusingly at the tan teen. “You buy.” 

Aubrey can’t help but smile at the sight. Kel always had a terrible habit of borrowing money and then never paying people back, so it’s quite satisfying to see him finally get his comeuppance. 

“Aw man, c’mon, Sunny I—” Kel tries to argue, only to be met by a harsh glare from Sunny’s one good eye. “I... okay then,” he concedes with a sigh. “What are you guys ordering?” 

“Margherita,” Basil replies. 

‘ Oh yeah, blondies' a vegetarian... how lame. If Kel’s buying, then I’m getting the most out of this .’ 

“Meat Lovers!” Aubrey declares with a wicked smirk. 

“You’re killing me here, man!” Kel whines. “That’s like, the most expensive one!” 

“Tough.” 

Almost in tears, the jersey-loving giant reluctantly leaves his seat next to Basil and strolls on over to the front counter. Sunny likewise rises from his seat, probably to make sure Kel doesn’t bail on them or mix the orders up. Before going, he gives her a pat on the shoulder, as if trying to reassure her that he'll be back, before finally setting off to join Kel. 

‘I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate thi—’ 

Her thoughts are interrupted by a loud, obnoxious cough, clearly exaggerated, from Basil. 

“So...” he starts. 

“So. When did you get so good at lying?” she asks, smirking slightly. 

“W-What? I—I’m not!” he replies, defensively. 

“Sure, you ain’t.” 

“I mean it! I... I can’t lie, I’m... bad at it.” 

Aubrey can barely believe what she’s hearing. 

“Then what do you call that little display earlier?” she asks, slightly offended by his audacity. “Blagging to dumb and dumber that we fought over freaking Sunny!” 

“...Stretching the truth?” he suggests sheepishly. “I can’t just... lie, there has to be some truth to it.” 

“...” 

“...” 

“You have serious problems, dude.” 

“You’re one to talk...” Basil mutters under his breath. 

“Care to repeat that?” she asks, instinctively clenching her fists. 

“Care to tell me what you’re doing?!” he retorts, glowering at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Insulting Kel, handwaving Sunny, and then just storming off like that! Christ, Aubrey... you know, I thought after the lake you would—” 

“You can’t swim.”   

“I can’t.”  

Aubrey groans and clutches her head as this morning’s events force their way back to the forefront of her mind. She’s briefly surprised by how visceral her reaction is, but she quickly shrugs it off. 

“Aubrey?” Basil asks, clearly hesitant but still concerned. 

“I’m good. I just... Ugh! Look, it’s difficult, okay...” she replies, her voice more aggressive than she intended. 

“What? Is it that hard not to be a total prick?” the blonde asks, hostility returning to his tone. 

“Kind of!” she exclaims, tired of his judging stares. “...You don’t—you just don’t get it, I know you’re not them, but it’s hard to... process that. I look at you, at Kel, at Sunny, and I notice the differences, but I still see the pricks from my world.” 

“But you can’t just—you keep... ugh!” Basil groans, before stopping and taking a second to compose himself. “Aubrey... I think you owe me an explanation of what exactly happened between us in your world.” 

She definitely does, but she also really doesn’t want to talk about this. Aubrey grumbles and tries to avert her eyes, but she can feel Basil’s own boring into her. 

“Fine! You wanna talk about explanations?! How about Sunny? He’s a freaking cyclops! When were you going to mention that?!” she counters, in a lame attempt to delay the inevitable. 

“That’s—I thought... I thought that would have happened in your world, too,” he murmurs with a distant look on his face. “Besides, you saw the photo album earlier!” he argues. “No way you didn’t notice he had one eye!” 

“I... I really didn’t notice,” she admits sheepishly. “I saw another page and I just... blanked it out.” 

It didn’t feel real at the time, and honestly, it still doesn’t. They’re all still friends, she’s dating someone she hasn’t seen in years, her mom is dead, and Mari... 

“Well, I... suppose that makes sense,” Basil murmurs. “So... Sunny still has both eyes in your world then?” 

“I mean, probably? I haven’t seen him in, like, forever, remember?” 

“Oh yeah... it’s just... the recital...” he mumbles. 

“The recital?” she asks, thinking out loud.  

“Did that not happen in your world?” 

“It’s quiet...”  

“Shouldn’t they be ready by now?”  

“Mari? Sunny? Is anyone home? ” 

“...No.” She bites her tongue and tries her best to ignore the sudden pounding in her head. 

“My God...” Basil mumbles. “See? This is all the more reason we need to talk!” he adds, suddenly seeming a lot livelier. “Clearly, there are some... important differences between our worlds, and if you’re stuck here, then we need to get our stories straight. Because I’m guessing you don’t want to let the others in on... this.” 

“I doubt they’d believe me...” 

“Then we have to be on the same page here,” the blonde reaffirms. “You need to tell me what happened in your world.” 

She really doesn’t want to have this conversation; she knows he’s right, but his plan involves opening some old wounds, and she is not ready to tackle some of these memories, especially not with him of all people. 

“Like... right now?” she eventually asks. 

“No. But when we get back home—Oh! Hey guys!” Basil nervously greets. 

Looking over to her right, she sees Kel and Sunny have returned, the latter of whom takes a seat next to her, whilst the former remains standing and just continues to stare, clearly confused, at Basil.  

“Uhhh, hi?” Kel replies, obviously and understandably weirded out. “We weren’t gone that long.” 

“Felt like it,” Aubrey grumbles. “I’m starving.” 

She’s honestly grateful for the return of the dynamic duo here, they’ve unknowingly saved her from that sinking ship of a conversation. Still, she can tell from Basil’s expression that this isn’t over yet. She knows they need to talk... she’s just not looking forward to it. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Kel yells, jumping out of his seat a mere five seconds after sitting down. “Mom wanted you all to know we’re meeting at my place at three tomorrow.” 

“Eh? What for?” Aubrey asks, genuinely lost. 

Suddenly, all eyes are on her, two confused faces and one incredibly nervous one, stare at her expectantly.  

Aubrey has never had stage fright, but she imagines this must be how it feels. 

“What?” she asks, slightly annoyed. 

“The party?” Kel says, sighing as he sees Aubrey’s confused expression. “For my bro and Mari?” 

‘Oh yeah... Mari.’ 

She’s been trying to avoid thinking about her, she knows their meeting is pretty much inevitable now, and that’s exciting... but it’s also terrifying. She’s changed a lot since... since they last met. Aubrey isn’t the person this Mari knows, where her counterpart has relationships and achievements, she has burnt bridges and regrets. 

‘Will she still love me like this? ’

“Oh, right... I just—” Aubrey pauses, struggling to think of an excuse. “I thought it was supposed to be at Sunny’s place,” she lies. 

“Dad wouldn’t like that,” Sunny states, matter-of-factly. 

“Your dad doesn’t like a lot of things...” Kel murmurs in response. 

Aubrey sees a frown tugging at Sunny’s lips, but before he can reply, a shadow falls over their table. Looking up, she sees the one and only Gino himself standing there with their orders. 

“Meat feast?” he asks, tiredly. 

“Yeah,” she replies casually. 

“Oh! Hello Aubrey, how’s my favourite delivery girl doing?” Gino asks, with a surprising amount of enthusiasm and the most genuine smile she’s ever seen on the usually exhausted man. 

“Uhhh,” she stutters, desperately looking over to Basil for help. The blonde simply shrugs and smiles awkwardly.  

‘Real helpful, Bas. ’ 

“I’m good,” she eventually replies. “How are you?” she asks, before mentally face-palming. ‘ How are you??? You’re trying to end this conversation, not drag it out!' 

“I’m... okay, just tired. But hey, that’s just business as usual, I suppose,” he replies with a weak laugh. Looking at his face, specifically the bags under his eyes, she can tell he isn’t lying. “By the way, I’ve got another shift open next weekend if you’re interested?” he offers. 

“Y-Yeah, I can do that,” Aubrey replies, desperately trying to end this conversation. 

“Sweet, sweet... Oh! Your food! Of course!” Gino adds, before placing the meat feast down in front of her. 

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of an employee discount?” Kel asks, with a cheeky grin. 

“No,” Aubrey and Gino reply at the same time. 

Gino hands out the rest of the pizzas, and Aubrey watches on in disgust as Kel absolutely devours his in mere seconds. Her stomach churns at the sight, and for a brief second, she loses her appetite. Thankfully, the moment is short-lived thanks to the alluring aroma of cheap pizza.  

Much to Aubrey’s relief, the other two boys in her company are much more civilised and actually take their time to enjoy the meal. Following their pace, she picks up her first slice and frowns at how it immediately droops, threatening to spill it’s toppings all over the table. Gino’s is delicious, but in her opinion, the pizzas could use another five minutes in the oven.  

‘ Oh well... ’ she thinks, shrugging and taking her first bite. As she chews, she’s graced by the all-too-familiar taste of meat, cheese, and grease. It may not be good for her, but damn does it taste like it is. Droopy pizza aside, Gino’s has always been a guilty pleasure for her... mainly because it’s the only decent restaurant in the hellhole of a town, but whatever. Honestly, it’s hardly surprising her counterpart started working here; it’s practically her second hangout spot back home. 

“You guys see the poster for that new SpaceBoy movie?” Kel asks, eyeing up Basil’s pizza. 

“Ugh, so that’s still a thing here,” Aubrey groans, thinking out loud.  

Hollywood can never just let things die! They’ve always got to milk every property to—why is Kel looking at her like that? 

“Uh, yeah?” the tan teen asks, with a raised eyebrow. “They’re not just going to cancel it,” he adds, frowning slightly as Basil moves his pizza out of Kel’s reach. 

‘Oh shit, I said that out loud! ’ 

“But we all wish they would!” Basil interjects with a forced laugh. 

Aubrey silently thanks the blonde for the save, before making a mental note to be more careful with what she says. She doesn’t trust these people enough to let them in on... whatever she’s going through, and besides, it’s like she told Basil, they likely wouldn’t believe her anyway.  

Before she can question the fact that, by her own logic, she probably trusts this Basil, Sunny suddenly speaks up again. 

“It looks fine,” he argues. 

“Fine isn’t good enough!” Kel protests, thankfully having moved on from her slip-up.  

‘Thank you, Kel’s short attention span. ’ 

“It’s SpaceBoy! He’s an icon, they should treat him with respect!” he continues. 

“I—” Aubrey goes to speak up before stopping herself. She actually agrees with Kel, but she doesn’t want to get dragged into this conversation. They’re not friends, she’s here because she has no choice, she shouldn’t be getting all buddy-buddy with these pricks...  

But then again, that movie does look terrible. 

“I think the casting was lazy,” she states. “They just picked a big name for the lead.” 

“Totally,” Kel agrees. “And the costume design sucks! They all look so cheap!” 

“I’ve been saying this! They didn’t even get the hair right!” 

“The costumes are lazy,” Sunny agrees. 

“I... kind of like them,” Basil says, sheepishly. 

At that point, the table descends into a series of mindless ramblings and debates, as the four of them continue to eat their food and discuss the movie. At some point, the conversation switches focus to the SpaceBoy comics, and Aubrey can’t help but smile a little as she reminisces about those older issues... and old times. 

“You’re not gonna make that,” Basil sighs. “Please come down.” 

“Nah, you’ve got this, Kel!” Aubrey counters with a smirk. “Don’t listen to the fr—flower boy.” 

“Aubrey he’s going to hurt himself!” Basil whines, turning to face her. “There’s no way he can pull that off!” 

“No shit? But it’ll be funny,” she replies with a grin. 

“Aubrey!!!” 

“She’s not wrong,” Sunny adds, still rocking his usual stoic expression. 

“Sunny!!!” Basil cries. 

“He owes me,” the one-eyed teen responds. 

‘I’m starting to see why we’re dating. No. Bad Aubrey.’  

“He paid for the pizzas, though?” 

“More,” Sunny states, a disturbing coldness in his voice. 

“Oh...” Basil mumbles, as the true scale of Kel’s debt dawns on him. 

‘ Note to self, never borrow money from cyclops. ’ 

“What are you guys saying?!” Kel asks, yelling from the top of the weird yellow cat shelter. 

Or at least Aubrey thinks it’s a shelter, honestly, she never really got what it was supposed to be, but Sunny always seemed fond of it, he used to say it looked ‘wise’. Although, in her opinion, it looks like it could use a paint job. The yellow paint is peeling in places, exposing the rusted metal beneath, which seriously detracts from the ‘cute cat’ vibe it’s going for. Then again, it never really had that down anyway, who would’ve guessed a giant metal cat was more imposing than cute to a twelve-year-old? It’s not quite as towering as it seemed back then, but it’s still pretty tall.

So naturally, Kel, idiotic as ever, wants to do a somersault off of it.

She doesn’t even know how they got to this point. One minute they’re discussing SpaceBoy and eating pizza, then the next thing she knows, they’re in the park, watching Kel speedrun a trip to the hospital. 

“We’re saying get down!” Basil yells in response. 

“We?” Sunny asks, his expression unchanging. 

“Sunny, I swear to God.”  

“We’re saying you got this!” Aubrey yells up to Kel, who, in response, flashes his signature grin. 

“Aubrey!” Basil protests, more genuine anger creeping into his voice. “Stop encouraging him! He’s going to break his neck!” 

‘Break his neck...’ 

“D-Don’t... Don’t look...” 

“H-Hero?”  

“MARI!”  

Aubrey falls to the ground and clutches her head; she feels the soft grass on her knees as her headache fades as fast as it came. 

“What. The. Hell.” 

“Aubs?” Sunny asks, crouching down to her level and offering his hand. There’s a clear look of concern on his face—it’s the most expression she’s from him all day. 

“I’m good,” she replies, batting his hand away and rising back onto her feet. “I’m good...” 

She ignores the hurt look on his face and takes a second to catch her breath. This is like the second time this has happened today... 

‘Get a grip, Aubrey.’ 

Why is this happening to her? Mari’s been dead for years, Basil’s fine, she shouldn’t be having such... physical reactions to these things. 

‘Except Mari’s not dead and Basil’s not fine.’  

“Ugh...” she groans, shaking the thought away. 

She can feel Basil and Sunny’s concerned eyes boring into her. She doesn’t need to see their faces to know they pity her. She hates it. 

“Guys, I did it!” Kel suddenly yells, as all eyes turn to focus on him. “...You guys saw that right?” he asks, his smile quickly falling as he realises no one actually saw him do it. “...Right?” 

“Dumbass,” Aubrey grumbles. 

“B-But I... it was cool,” Kel mumbles in response. 

“Kel...” Basil murmurs, before suddenly raising his voice. “What the he—heck were you thinking?!!!” 

Aubrey watches in awe and slight amusement as Basil storms on over and proceeds to absolutely tear into Kel, scolding him like an angry parent. She can’t make out what exactly they’re saying, but the conversation seemingly boils down to a back and forth of ‘What were you thinking?’ and ‘It was cool!’. 

“Aubs,” a quiet voice calls out, drawing her attention away from the argument unfurling before her. 

Turning around she sees Sunny standing there, cliff-faced once again, the only sign of emotion being the concern coming from his one good eye... She’s still not used to the eyepatch. 

“What?” she asks, flatly. 

Sunny doesn’t reply, instead, he gestures behind him, pointing to—

‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.’ 

He’s pointing to their swing set. 

“I-” 

She can’t do this. She just can’t. They haven’t spoken in years, and this isn’t even him. She doesn’t know this Sunny and he doesn’t know her, but those swings... they mean something. They're important. It might sound stupid but... that’s not her seat. 

“I... the sermon will be starting soon,” she says, trying to wriggle her way out of this. 

“Please,” Sunny begs. 

It’s such a simple request, one she could so easily turn down. But his voice... it’s soft, with a hint of concern and maybe even... desperation. She’s been trying to avoid him for obvious reasons , but now standing here face to face... 

‘ ...God damn it. ’ 

“I—okay,” Aubrey relents, before looking up at the sun. She’s still got a few hours of daylight left and the sermon won’t start for a while yet... “But not for long!” she insists. “I’ve still got that sermon.” Churchgoers can sneer all they want; she’s never missed a sermon. 

“Okay.” 

Sighing, Aubrey takes the lead and walks towards the swing set. 

‘Here goes nothing...’ 

Two friends are sat next to each other on a swing set, although neither of them are actually swinging. This is simply a little ritual of theirs, once a week they’ll meet here and just... talk. Neither of them could say how exactly it started, but at the same time, neither wants it to stop.  

“You ever think about the future?” the young girl asks.

“...Yeah,” her quiet companion hesitantly replies. “Sometimes.”  

“Do you... do you think we’ll all still be friends?”  

“I do.”  

“...Thanks, Sunny.”  

Chapter Text

Warm orange hues bathe Faraway Park, as the golden, evening sun hangs high in the sky. Aubrey rocks back and forth on her swing seat, the rusted chains creaking slightly with every slight movement. The young delinquent glances up at the sky and briefly wonders how it’s already so late into the day. To her, it feels like barely an hour has passed since she first awoke in this strange world. They do say time flies when you’re having fun, but 'fun' isn’t exactly the word Aubrey would use to describe today’s events.  

Sure, hanging out at Gino’s was nice—even she isn’t so bitter as to deny that. But seeing her mom’s grave, fighting with Basil, bumping into Kim... Yeah, it's not exactly her idea of fun. 

The cosmic irony of her situation isn’t lost on Aubrey either, as by all accounts, this world should be a dream come true. It’s her every desire made manifest, from the silly pining of an innocent child to the desperate pleas of an aimless teenager, sobbing over a silent slab of rock. This universe has it all, and yet, despite that, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels like a nightmare. 

A feeling that Aubrey can’t help but find ridiculous. How many sleepless nights has she spent, freezing in that dingy attic, wishing things had gone differently? God only knows! Yet now, with everything she’s ever wanted right in the palm of her hands, she can’t... she can’t... 

‘I can’t accept this.’ 

Gripping the chains tighter, Aubrey increases the pace of her swinging. This world is perfect... but she has no place in—it her fight with Basil has shown her that much. This isn’t her life and these aren’t her friends, no matter how much she may want to— 

‘I don’t belong here.’

“Babe?” a concerned voice calls out. 

‘Oh right... Sunny,’ Aubrey thinks, suddenly remembering that she is supposed to be talking to him. ‘This is going to take some getting used to.’ 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Aubrey realises just how tight her grasp on the chains is and promptly loosens them. She sticks her legs out to halt her swinging and winces as her trainers kick up the sand below. Coming to an abrupt stop, she takes a second to mentally curse the sand she can already feel accumulating in her soles, before sighing and finally turning to look up at Sunny.  

He’s pretty tall; even at a glance, that much is obvious. Maybe not quite Kel’s height, but he's definitely not far off either—hardly surprising considering he used to be the tallest of the pre-teens in their group. But aside from the missing eye, he looks... well.  

Not that she didn’t expect him to, it’s just hard to rectify the sight of the teenager before her with the memory of the empty-eyed boy she last saw at Mari’s funeral. He had looked just as lifeless as his sister back then. Like that small spark in his eyes, the only window into his soul had been completely extinguished. If he had cried once during that funeral, then Aubrey never saw his tears. That used to infuriate her once, but now it just concerns her, because staring at this Sunny is like looking at a ghost.

He had been dead to her for years, but now, reflecting on his appearance at the funeral and his subsequent isolation, he’s likely been dead to the rest of the world too.   

‘When they buried Mari, they buried him too...’  

Aubrey shudders at the thought, then realises Sunny is staring at her with an expectant and concerned look, still waiting for her response. 

“Yo,” she replies, attempting to hide her inner turmoil behind a calm demeanour. “It’s been a while.” 

The raven-haired boy raises an eyebrow, and Aubrey immediately realises her mistake. 

“Well, not that long! Just feels like it... when we’re... apart,” she stutters, desperately trying to course-correct the conversation. 

‘Smooth, Aubrey, real smooth.’ 

“Are you... okay?” the boy hesitantly asks, his words oozing with confusion and worry. 

“I’m fine,” she replies dismissively, slightly annoyed that her cover fell apart so quickly. “Just tired,” she adds, recalling the story flower boy conjured up for her. “And you know, Basil was being... well, Basil. So, I’m feeling a bit out of it today.” 

Raven-black brows furrow in response to her words. He doesn’t believe her—that much is obvious. But if Sunny of all people is giving her such an obvious expression, then he really doesn’t believe her. 

“Not buying that?” she half-asks, half-states. 

“Basil lies,” the boy replies, with what Aubrey could almost swear was a hint of resentment. 

“Don’t you mean he ‘stretches the truth’ ?” she jokes in response. 

For a moment, Sunny’s lips seem to be caught between a smile and a frown; he’s obviously both amused and annoyed by her reference, but isn’t sure which feeling to express. 

‘Guess I’m not the only one to hear that rhetoric,’ she thinks to herself, briefly amused by the blonde’s audacity. ‘Stretching the truth... what a joke.’ 

“Something like that,” Sunny eventually replies, his face finally having settled back into his usual neutral expression. Although Aubrey can see an expectant look remains in his one eye. She can tell she’s not escaping this conversation that easily. 

“...You’re not going to drop this, are you?” she asks with a sigh. 

“You’re hurt,” he states again in response, gesturing to her face. 

Aubrey instinctively raises her hand to her lip and, unsurprisingly, it stings like hell when she pokes it. 

‘Yep, definitely busted.’ 

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” she laughs. 

“I did,” he deadpans in response. 

Aubrey doesn’t quite know what to say to that, and so, there’s an awkward stretch of silence for a moment, before eventually Sunny sighs and speaks up again. 

“Why?” he asks, vaguely as ever. 

It’s almost funny—what should be such a simple question is in reality a surprisingly loaded one. Sure, she knows what he’s actually asking—he wants to know why she and Basil really fought. But to answer that, she has to answer several other questions first. Questions she herself doesn’t have answers to. 

Why is she here? 

What is she doing? 

Where does she go next? 

She could tell him, take the risk, and tell him what very little she does know. Tell him that she’s from some other, similar but infinitely more messed-up universe, that she didn’t come here by choice and simply woke up in a bed that isn’t her own, and that she beat up Basil out of... what? Rage? Confusion? A force of habit? 

Even if he somehow believed her, then what? What is she to him but a copy? A fake? A poor replacement? She’s been here a day and almost killed his best friend...  

Why on earth would he ever help her? 

The truth is, once again, Basil has the right idea. It sickens her to her stomach to give him so much credit, especially after hating him for so long. But unfortunately, he is right. Letting Sunny in on this will just make things more complicated. She has to take a page out of the gardener’s book and ‘stretch the truth’. 

“I had a dream,” she starts. “Where things were different... wrong. We weren’t friends, I was still living with Mom, and Mari was...” 

Sunny remains silent. 

“...You left me,” she states, briefly stunned by her own words, but unable to stop the venom from flowing, as whatever mental script she had falls apart. “Left me without a word. You just disappeared into your own little bubble one day and never came back.” 

“...”  

“I needed you and you just—” Aubrey goes to continue, before cutting herself off, realising she’s making the same mistake as earlier. 

“I think it might be best if we both stop treating each other like we would the other us...” 

‘It’s not him... it’s not him,’ Aubrey reminds herself, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“Okay, that’s not fair. Look, I know it was just a stupid dream,” she lies. “But we visited Mom after... then the spot... and Basil, he just... it got out of hand...” 

Looking over at her quiet companion, she’s greeted by that same old neutral expression. She had expected judgement, confusion, or maybe just silence. Instead, Sunny takes a deep breath and says something she wasn’t expecting. 

“...I understand.” 

“Do you?!” Aubrey immediately snaps in response, annoyed by his presumptions, and angered that someone from this perfect world could ever claim to understand her pain. 

“I do,” Sunny replies, undeterred by her outburst. “I dream a lot. Sometimes about...” he pauses for a second, raising an unsteady hand up to touch his eyepatch before continuing. “Other outcomes,” he concludes cryptically, shuddering slightly as the words leave his mouth. 

“...” 

“But I would never leave you,” he states, with heartbreaking conviction. 

Aubrey doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that statement. Because he’s wrong. He’s so wrong, and he doesn’t even know it. A part of her wants to tell him that, to tell him just how off the mark he truly is... but she knows it won’t do anyone any good, not her and definitely not him. 

“I know,” she replies instead, lying between her teeth. “I know...” 

“Good... But you shouldn’t hav—” he goes to add. 

“Beat Basil’s ass?” Aubrey guesses, interrupting him. “I know. It’s like I said, things just... escalated,” she adds lamely. “But it won’t happen again,” she states, this time with much more conviction. 

She means it, too. The Basil of her world might be a useless freak, but this blonde has done nothing but help her. It’s not fair to punish him for his counterpart’s sins. Besides, for as much as she hates him, she doesn’t want him dead... and that goes for any version of him. The lake fight was a mistake, one she will never repeat. 

“...Okay,” Sunny concedes. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Please, Basil doesn’t hit that hard,” she laughs. 

“Aubs,” he whines, with such genuine concern that it physically stings. 

“Just kidding... I’m—I’m fine.” 

It was so easy to hate him when he wasn’t here, because she could just tell herself that he didn’t care, that he never cared, and that his absence only proved as much. If he cared, then he would have been there for her. 

‘But who was there for him?’  

Aubrey frowns. Seeing a version of Sunny that clearly does care is... strange. She doesn’t quite know what to think, let alone say to him. For God’s sake, they’re literally dating in this world! A fact she keeps desperately trying to ignore. But in her defence, how is she supposed to react? The idea of them being friends is a foreign enough concept as it is, but dating him?! There’s a difference between skipping a few steps and tumbling down the freaking staircase, and this is definitely the latter. 

Still, it’s... bittersweet. She did have a massive crush on him as a kid, so it’s not too surprising that it lived on in a world where they grew up together. Although it does all but confirm that he liked her back and that...  

Well, honestly, that just stings. 

Thinking about what could have been is one thing, but seeing living proof of it? Now that is something else entirely. Even if she miraculously winds up back home tomorrow, she doubts she’ll ever forget this place. 

“Like the outfit...” Sunny comments after a moment of silence. 

“O-Oh?” 

“S’pretty,” he mumbles, blushing slightly. 

Aubrey feels her cheeks burn. 

‘Pretty...’ 

When picking her outfit, she was going for more of a ‘badass’ vibe, but she’ll happily take the compliment. 

“I—thanks,” she replies awkwardly. “Just wanted to try something different,” she adds, making a mental note to ask Basil how her counterpart usually dresses. 

Ignoring a couple of confused comments, it’s honestly a miracle she hasn’t been truly called out on this sooner. She doubts the little Miss Perfect of this world dresses like a delinquent. 

“Why contacts?” he asks, his curiosity clearly outweighing his hesitance. 

“Why the eyepatch?” she retorts impulsively. 

“...” 

“...” 

‘SHIT! WRONG QUESTION! WRONG QUESTION!'

“Pirates are cool,” Sunny replies with a shrug. 

“Oh y-yeah! Totally!” she replies awkwardly. “It uh... it suits you anyway,” she adds, this time a lot more earnestly. 

It really does add to the whole ‘silent emo’ vibe he’s got going on, giving a bit more flair to the otherwise basic attire. Honestly, on second glance, he’s actually kind of—

‘ Yeah, no. That’s enough of that,’ Aubrey thinks, ending that train of thought before it can leave the station. 

“And all I had to do was lose an eye,” he deadpans. 

Aubrey almost chokes on her laughter, taken completely off guard by his response. She had almost forgotten about Sunny’s... questionable sense of humour. Looking back, he really could be a sarcastic little shit when he wanted to. 

“A small sacrifice,” Aubrey jokes in turn, before suddenly realising she can actually use this conversation to get some answers about his injury. “...How long has it been now anyway?” she carefully asks. “A few years?” 

“Four,” Sunny replies without hesitation. 

‘Mari died four years ago...’ 

“Time flies,” Aubrey states, unsure of what else to say and trying to hide the sudden pang of anxiety she feels. 

“Yeah... eye really miss depth perception,” Sunny jokes. 

Aubrey can’t help but laugh a little at the terrible pun, and so, feeling a bit more at ease, and thoroughly amused by his nonchalance, she decides to join in. 

“Yeah, no more twenty-twenty vision, huh? Bet you never saw that one coming,” she replies, with a chuckle. 

“Eye don’t think anyone did.” 

“Oh come on! You already made that pun!” she jokingly protests. “We’ve barely started, and you’re already reusing jokes? I thought you had a high eye-Q." 

“Hypocrite. You’re retina me down here.” 

“Please, I’m a visionary. ” 

“I don’t see it.” 

“What eye-ver you say.” 

“Letting me down, Aubs,” Sunny says with a fake pout. “I was violin a good mood too.” 

... 

“Eh?” Aubrey mumbles, raising her eyebrow in confusion. 

“Sorry, that was terrible,” Sunny concedes with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“No, no, I just—I don’t get it?” she replies, genuinely confused by his joke. 

They were making eye puns—where does a violin fit into this? Does this world have some strange slang she’s unfamiliar with? 

Whilst Aubrey continues to ponder, Sunny just stares at her, looking equally confused and maybe even a little offended. He gestures to his eyepatch like that’s supposed to answer her question. Then, when he sees her continued confusion, he sighs in frustration. 

“The accident?” Sunny asks with furrowed eyebrows, only to be met by Aubrey’s vacant expression. “The stairs? ” he continues, clearly trying to jog her memory. A memory she doesn’t have. 

Obviously, this is something her counterpart should know about, so she should probably just drop the questioning and try and pretend to understand what he’s saying. She doesn’t want to blow her cover after all... although, she really can’t help but wonder how stairs could possibly tie into this story. 

“That stupid violin...” Sunny adds mumbling under his breath with a surprising amount of venom. 

...Okay. Now she’s truly lost. 

Truthfully, she had almost forgotten that Sunny even used to play that thing. She hadn’t even thought about the recital until Basil mentioned it earlier. There’s only one thing she remembers about that day... 

“NO! LET ME SEE HER! MARI!”  

Shuddering at the memory, Aubrey suddenly isn’t so sure she likes where this conversation is going. 

“Oh, right!” she replies, feigning remembrance. “It’s that dream, it—it got my brain all messed up. My memories have been a bit... hazy today,” she laughs, internally praying he doesn’t notice how forced it is. 

Sunny simply ‘hmmms’ in response, and silence falls over the park once more.  

But as they say, curiosity killed the cat, and Aubrey can’t let this rest. This Sunny lost his eye, and it had something to do with his violin, meaning it likely had something to do with the recital... and by proxy... Mari. 

It’s one of the most notable differences between this world and her own. If she’s going to be stuck here, then she has to know what happened. 

‘You won't like the answer you seek.’

“Did you maybe want to... talk about it?” Aubrey suggests cautiously. 

That’s what these swings used to be all about, the two of them just... talking. Chatting about whatever was on their minds. 

‘Did he ever really get his chance to talk?’  

Sure, part of this is selfish—Aubrey can admit that much. She’s fuelling her own curiosity under the pretence of being a shoulder to cry on. But at the same time, maybe he does want to talk about it. Hell, maybe he needs to. So who knows, it might do them both some good in the long run. 

“I—” Sunny hesitates. 

“No pressure or anything!” she adds, blushing slightly as she continues. “But I’m here if you need me... hon.”  

‘Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.’  

“I-I just—” the boy stutters, similarly flustered. Sighing, he takes a few seconds to find the right words before eventually continuing. “People treat me differently,” he mumbles, refusing to meet her eyes. 

There’s a vulnerability to his voice, and Aubrey can tell he’s hesitant to share this. A mounting sense of guilt causes her to pause at the realisation. To her, this is just background information, but to him, it’s something much more personal. She briefly considers dropping this conversation entirely before it can go any further, but she ultimately decides against it. Aubrey needs to know what happened here; she’ll just have to be... respectful when approaching the topic. 

“How?” she asks after a second of silence. 

“Like I’m made of glass,” he replies, staring down at the sand below them, his grip on the swing chains tightening. “But... I’m still me, there’s just... less.” 

“You’re not lesser!” she states, once again speaking before thinking. Mentally cursing this habit, she takes a second before continuing. “I mean, you shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.” 

“Thanks,” Sunny replies earnestly. “Meant it literally though,” he adds, pointing to his eyepatch. 

‘He said less, not lesser... dumbass.’ 

“O-Oh...” Aubrey mumbles. “I-I only meant—” 

“S’okay,” Sunny interrupts. “I’m... glad you feel that way. Sometimes I feel like...” 

“Like?” 

“Like Mari doesn’t.” 

You could hear a pin drop from a mile away with how deathly silent the park is right now. 

“She loves you,” Aubrey states. Because it’s true, it has to be. 

“I know,” Sunny replies, a slight hint of annoyance in his tone. “I just—I feel like she learnt the wrong lesson.” 

Aubrey wishes she could see her own face right now. It must be an expression of pure, unfiltered bafflement, because she has no idea what he’s talking about. What could Mari have to learn in the first place? Let alone learn wrong? She was—is perfect, effortlessly graceful, and one of the smartest people Aubrey has ever met... Or at least, the Mari she knew was anyway. 

“I... I don’t follow,” she says after a moment. 

“Never mind,” Sunny sighs. “You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Try me.” 

Dropping this topic would probably be her best bet here, but she just knows this is the missing piece of the puzzle. There’s something wrong with this world. At the surface level, it seems perfect, but then there’s Sunny’s eye and his words, and she knows she’s missing something here, and Mari is at the heart of it. 

“She blames herself,” he replies. “She shouldn’t but...” he goes to continue before suddenly biting his tongue. Aubrey can practically see the gears in his head grinding as, he too, tries to find the right words. 

“Take your time,” she says, in a poor attempt at reassurance. 

“I never blamed her,” he mumbles. “Never. But I look at her and sometimes... the yelling, the stairs, the fall...” 

In a bizarre twist of fate, Aubrey is the one who's speechless for once. It’s surreal hearing him talk this much, and with such vulnerability, too. 

“It still hurts some days... phantom pain, I guess,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s not her fault... but she treats me like I’m this—this helpless thing, but I’m not the one who did—” Sunny pauses and frantically gestures to his eyepatch. “This! ” 

He continues to ramble after that, his volume rising and anger growing, as he continues to go back and forth between clear sympathy and blatant frustration. It’s contrarian and confused, the words of a man who obviously wishes things were different. Words that sadly fall on deaf ears, because Sunny lost her the second he accused Mari. 

“She did that?” Aubrey asks, interrupting his tirade with what could only be described as a whimper. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sunny replies, clearly taken aback by her words. “It wasn’t her fault, not entirely anyway... its just a mess, Aubs,” he mumbles with a sigh. 

It’s deathly quiet for a moment, as Aubrey processes his words. There are still clearly pieces missing in this story, but the overall message is clear. Sunny lost his eye because of Mari, meaning that—

‘Mari hurt Sunny...’  

She feels light-headed, Sunny’s words turning to static in her ears as her vision blurs. If she wasn’t on the brink of collapse, she might find some morbid amusement in the fact that it was easier to accept interdimensional travel than it was this. But that’s because what Sunny is saying is impossible. Mari wouldn’t hurt Sunny, Mari couldn’t hurt Sunny, because if she did, then that would mean she could hurt Aubrey, and if she could hurt her, then she would be no better than—  

“This—this was a mistake...” she mutters, talking to herself more than Sunny. 

“Aubs?” the boy asks, a worried look plastered on his face. 

Aubrey’s mind spirals as a thousand nagging thoughts rush through her brain, all of them contradictory.  

She wants to run away and never look back. She wants to hold him tight and never let go. She wants to hurt them like they hurt her. She wants to keep hanging out and pretend she belongs. She loathes it here. She never wants to leave. She hates them. She loves them. She doesn’t know which thought is more accurate. But if there’s one thing she does know, it’s that she can’t stay here; all she has left of Mari is memories, and she can’t let him tarnish those. She just can’t. 

“I—I should g-go,” Aubrey stutters, abruptly rising from her seat and almost immediately tripping over herself. 

“Aubrey!” Sunny shouts, his voice uncharacteristically loud, before jumping out of his own seat and rushing to her side. 

He tries to help her back up onto her feet, offering her a hand, which she promptly slaps away as she forces herself to stand. 

“Aubrey,” he mumbles, his voice soft and laced with worry. “What’s wrong?” 

It’d be easier to ask what isn’t wrong at this point. 

“You are!” she snaps back, the stress of her situation finally catching up with her. “Everything is! This world! Basil! Kel! All of this! It—it just doesn’t make sense! She wouldn’t! She couldn’t!” 

“She did...” Sunny replies with a pained expression.  

“...”  

“Aubs... please, just tell me what—”  

“It’s that stupid dream,” she lies, vaguely aware of Basil’s eyes boring into her. “It just—it messed my head up and I-I....” 

What else is there to say? It’s a poor excuse, a lie, and one that’s just barely believable. The only reason it might work is because the actual truth is so absurd that no one would ever guess it. Still, if she gives any more detail, any more bullshit, then she’ll just be digging her own grave. 

“I need...” 

Space. She needs space. Somewhere to clear her head. Somewhere that isn’t here. 

“I need to go to the sermon.” 

“Aubs I—” Sunny goes to reply, before stopping himself. He’s hesitating, she can see it in his face. Or at least she could, because it faded as fast as it came, his usual cliff-face expression taking its place after a second.  

There’s nothing but the sound of distant traffic and birdsong in the wind for a moment. 

“I understand,” he eventually replies, his tone truly unreadable. 

Aubrey feels like she should say something, but she can’t find the words. Her head is pounding, and every second she stays here, she can feel her throat tighten more and more. 

‘I need to leave.’  

Mumbling a hasty goodbye, she storms off and makes a beeline to the park’s exit, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as she does, least of all Basil’s. She feels Sunny’s gaze lingering on her as she goes and promptly doubles her pace. 

“I missed you,” she murmurs once she’s certain she’s out of hearing range. 

The walk to the Church is a blur. Admittedly, it’s not that far from the park, but it still concerns her how sudden her arrival feels. One second, she’s stumbling out of her swing seat, the next she’s sat in a pew, hands clasped together in prayer. 

‘Prayer...’ 

Who is she even praying to anyway? Does this world have the same God as hers? Is it just one God across every universe? If so, then they have a sick sense of humour, because why the hell is she here?! What divine intervention dictated that she deserves this? Was it not enough to tease her with everything she’s ever wanted? Does she have to watch as her dreams get dissected, too? 

‘You’ll have everything you want, but it’ll still suck... jeez, thanks God,’ Aubrey thinks, groaning under her breath. 

A couple of churchgoers hear her and promptly turn to gawk. She instinctively goes to look away, expecting the usual judgemental stares, but instead she hesitates for a moment and is greeted by a few concerned glances. Caught completely off guard, she freezes on the spot, unsure of what to say, she offers a small, forced smile and a mumbled apology, which is seemingly enough as the few eyes still lingering on her switch their focus back to the Preacher.  

‘...Christ, this is strange.’ 

If she pulled this crap any other day, she’d be receiving glares for the rest of the sermon. But of course, today isn’t exactly a regular day. 

Seriously though, what on earth was her counterpart up to here? Back home, Aubrey is considered the terror of Faraway, the pink demon, the scum of the Earth. But here? Here, she could probably take the Preacher’s place at the podium and receive a standing ovation. 

Speaking of which, she tries to distract herself from her thoughts and focus on the Preacher’s words, but it’s the same spiel as usual, love thy neighbour, trust in God, blah blah blah. She loses focus almost immediately, she can’t help it; there are so many... feelings, thoughts, and memories, all rushing around her head, colliding with each other and pounding against her skull. 

Basil, Kel, Hero, Sunny, Mari...

Hearing (and seeing) that they’re all still friends in this world was strange enough, but there just had to be all these... contradictions. Her mom’s untimely death, Basil’s confidence, the recital, Sunny’s eye, everything about Mari.  

The story here just isn’t adding up, and yet with every new piece of information she gets, the pile of discrepancies only grows more and more. And the only truly concrete answer she’s gotten so far just... doesn’t make sense. Mari was kind, caring, compassionate, and somehow at merely fifteen years of age, more of a parent to Aubrey than her own mother. She loved them all, but loved Sunny most of all. She would never—

“She did...”  

He sounded so certain yet so sorrowful at the swings. She knows he isn’t lying, she just wishes he was, because it doesn’t make sense! Mari barely ever raised her voice, buy now Aubrey is supposed to believe she plucked out Sunny’s eye?! 

‘He phrased it like it was an accident, but how do you accidentally maim someone? And what the hell does that have to do with his violin? Or stairs?!’  

All evidence points to that God-forsaken recital, that’s when her Mari died and seemingly when this Sunny lost his eye. But how can some stupid ‘concert’ possibly have caused all of this? 

‘Maybe it was stress? ’ Aubrey had always assumed that’s why Mari... left, the way she did. ‘But then how does Sunny fit into this? ’ 

She’s missing something, she knows it, she just doesn’t know what exactly. There are so many discrepancies that it’s hard to keep track of them all. Part of her just wants to write them off as ‘different universe, different events,’ but then why was everything before the recital so similar to her own world’s history? 

Wars, politics, holidays, cultures, and basically all of human history are seemingly the same here—and it’s not like Mari has been made out to be especially malevolent compared to the one she knew. 

‘So then why did Sunny lose his eye? ’ 

The obvious answer is that this world’s Mari is the same person she knew... and that Aubrey just didn’t know her as well as she thought she did. But that is an especially tough pill to swallow, one she is not ready to tackle right now. She’s got enough to worry about as is without the daunting prospect that her idol might be a monster. 

Groaning again, Aubrey buries her face in her palms. Trying to make sense of all this is just giving her another headache. If this is some kind of divine test from God or the universe or whatever omniscient jackass is doing this to her, then she swears, they can go shove it where—

“Are you okay?” a voice suddenly asks, its intrusive presence tearing Aubrey out of her thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sor—oh," she replies, looking up from her hands to see the Preacher standing in front of her pew. Glancing around the Church, she sees that no one else remains but the two of them. 

‘The sermon must have ended...’ 

“I didn’t want to bother you, but you seemed... lost in thought,” he continues. 

Normally, she’d just tell him to back off and then storm out of the Church, but after this morning, she’s kind of sick of arguing with people. Besides, her counterpart seemingly has a good reputation here, so there’s no point in ruining that. It’s nice getting through a sermon without getting a dozen murmured insults thrown her way. 

“Yeah,” she eventually replies. “Yeah, I was just thinking about... stuff.” 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offers. 

‘...Screw it, why not?' 

“I feel like I woke up in the wrong world,” she deadpans. 

“How so?” 

It takes all her willpower not to break down on the spot at that question. Whether that would be a crying or laughing fit, she honestly could not say. 

“Well,” she starts, just barely managing to keep her composure. “Have you ever realised someone might not be who you thought they were?” 

“I... I can’t say I have,” he replies sheepishly. “Not really, anyway.” 

“Figured,” she sighs. “Well, I’ve got to be going,” she adds, rising from her seat and turning to leave. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help,” the Preacher calls out. “But I do hope you’ll still come to the next sermon.” 

Aubrey stops just before the door, tilting her head to look back at him. 

“I haven’t missed one yet,” she replies. 

Then, without another word, she opens the door and steps out into the light. 

“Figured I might find you here,” Basil ‘greets’. 

He’s stood there before her, just barely off the main path, awkwardly shifting in place as he basks in the evening sun. She can’t get a proper read on his expression, but surprisingly, he doesn’t seem too upset. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Aubrey asks, closing the Church door behind her. 

“A while,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Not gonna lie, I was a bit disheartened when you weren’t amongst the crowd.” 

She can’t help but smile a little at the mental image of Basil awkwardly dodging around the exiting Churchgoers. 

“But then Mikhael said you were still in there so—” 

“Mav was here?” 

“Mav? Oh! Yeah, he was here with his siblings,” Basil replies. “Didn’t you see him? I thought you two were friends in your world.” 

‘Damn, I really wasn’t paying attention in there.’ 

“We are... but he usually doesn’t bother going here,” she mumbles. 

“Yeah, well, looks like things are quite different here after all, huh?” he laughs, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“...Look, if you’re going to lecture me—” she goes to reply, hoping to skip to the point. 

“I don’t want to lecture you, I just want to talk,” Basil replies, exhaustedly. “Look, I spoke with Sunny, he said you two were talking about the... accident. So, I think I get why you freaked out—hell, I think anyone in your position would react the same way.” 

“I—”

She doesn’t know what to say. She had fully expected another fight, or at least an argument. But... no, despite all the crap they’ve been through today, Basil still seems to be giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that sooner,” he adds.

“I-It’s fine, I think we’re both overdue for a proper explanation anyway,” she replies, averting her eyes. 

“I think you’re right,” he agrees, nodding his head. “Look, why don’t we talk about all this back at home? Polly is making curry tonight, she’s really good at it,” he adds with a soft smile. 

“Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be...” she grumbles in response, still unnerved by how relaxed he is. “But I thought you were a vegetarian?” 

“Well, you see... it’s auberg—eggplant-based," he replies with a chuckle. 

“...You’re shitting me, right?” 

“Nope!” 

She can tell by his smile that he’s enjoying this; her mild annoyance is his remedy. Revenge is clearly a dish best served with aubergine. 

“I feel like the universe is mocking me,” she laments with a groan. 

“I can see that,” he smirks. 

“You—ugh, whatever, let’s just go,” she groans, marching past him.  

She sets off towards his house, and he follows in tow behind her. The flower boy is silent for the rest of their walk, yet she can practically sense the smug smile on his face. 

“I swear, I cannot trust you two to do anything!” Polly scolds, applying another plaster to a cut on Basil’s arm. 

Aubrey doesn’t even know how he managed to get that injury. Maybe when she flung him back onto the dock? Whatever, as far as Polly’s concerned, they ‘ran into some hooligans’ and that’s why they look like shit. 

‘Real subtle, Basil.’ 

Only the flower boy could lie so blatantly, so well, and yet somehow still insist he’s bad at it. Sure, he stuttered a few times, but people tend to be a bit shaken up after getting in a fight, so Polly was never going to question that. It's kind of frustrating, but honestly, she might need to take a page from his book; she’s nearly blown her cover like ten times today. 

“Sorry, Polly,” Basil mumbles, glancing down at his injured arm. 

“It’s fine, dear,” Polly replies with a sigh. “Just... try to be careful next time, and I mean that for both of you.” 

“Sorry...” Aubrey mumbles, desperately avoiding the caretaker’s piercing gaze. 

Part of her wants to kill Basil for putting her in this situation. However, the more rational part of her knows that this whole thing would be a thousand times worse if Basil told the truth. Polly might genuinely kill her if she knew about their fight; she has that look in her eyes, that kind of ‘I’m a saint until you piss me off ’ look. 

“You can apologise by staying safe,” Polly replies with a frown. “There are some horrible people out there and some fights you can’t win.” 

‘...Tell me something I don’t know.’ 

“Still, I’m glad you’re both okay, but please, just be more careful from now on,” the caretaker continues with a sigh. “Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll call you when it’s done.” 

And with that, Polly turns and leaves, clicking on the radio before entering the kitchen. 

“Evening listeners, you’re listening to 14.3 FM, the DOOMBOX! And this is your host, Nancy Forest speaking! We’ll be starting off the night with a classic summer hit, Good Morning by Jami Lynne!” a voice blasts from the radio, followed shortly after by that same song she heard back at Gino’s. 

‘Huh, I knew that sounded familiar.’ 

The two teens sit in silence for a while, a comfortable distance from each other on the couch. Well, ‘in silence’, if you ignore the music blaring from the radio and the distant sound of Polly working in the kitchen. 

“So—” they both say at the same time. 

“...” 

“...” 

Basil smirks, then breaks into laughter. Aubrey just groans and rolls her eyes, a small grin just barely tugging at her lips. 

“Ugh, guess there’s no more delaying this,” she grumbles. 

“No, I guess there isn’t,” Basil replies solemnly. 

Naturally, having finally agreed to talk, the two teens immediately fall back into silence. 

“So, did you want to go first or—”

“You first,” Aubrey interjects. “I insist.” 

She knows she’ll have to tell her tale eventually, but if she can put it off for a little while longer, then she will happily take that opportunity. Because she’s not sure she can look Basil in the eyes and tell him just how bad she’s treated him. Sure, the Basil she knows is a prick but... the more time she spends here, the harder she’s finding it to justify some of her prior actions. 

“I—okay,” Basil replies hesitantly. Aubrey watches as the flower boy takes a deep breath, clearly trying to compose himself before he eventually continues. “It all started—oh, who am I kidding? You know damn well where all this began,” he sighs. 

“The recital...” she mumbles. 

“The recital,” the blonde agrees, mimicking her words but with a lot more exasperation. “It really did seem like such a good idea at first.” 

“The lemonade stand,” Aubrey murmurs, as old memories come flooding back to the forefront of her mind. “We spent all summer raising money for that violin,” she adds, a soft smile forming on her face. 

In hindsight, it was pretty hard work, especially for a bunch of preteens. But it didn’t feel like it at the time. As they say, everything is fun with friends. 

“We did,” Basil agrees, before suddenly locking eyes with her. “But I would have smashed that damn thing myself if I knew all the trouble it would cause.” 

She doesn’t even know what to say to that. So instead, she remains silent and focused, allowing the blonde to continue his story. 

“I-I don’t know how well you remember Mari,” he continues hesitantly. “But she used to be pretty... intense at times.” 

“Careful,” Aubrey warns with a furrowed brow. 

Exposition be damned, she’s not just gonna sit around and listen to blondie here slander her friend. 

“Clearly not that well then,” Basil mumbles. “She had her own way of doing things—and that was fine! ...When applied to herself.” 

He pauses, clearly struggling to find the right words. Or maybe he has them and simply doesn’t wish to anger her. In hindsight, maybe that earlier warning was a bad idea. 

“Go on,” she says, trying to coax him into continuing. She may not like what he has to say, but she has a feeling it will be important. 

“You’d need to ask Sunny to get the full picture, but... she was a bad teacher,” he says, a pained expression clear on his face. “Sunny couldn’t keep up with their practice sessions, so she got impatient, and he got fed up and... if they had just talked it out,” he laments with a sigh. 

Any arguments Aubrey has die on her tongue, as she recalls just how little she saw the two Suzukis in the lead-up to the recital. They spent hours cooped up in their house, playing that same song over and over. Even at the time, it was clear they were growing more and more stressed with each passing day, but no one expected things to go the way they did. 

“On that day,” Basil continues, with a distant look in his eyes. “I was there.” 

She already knows this. Basil and Sunny were the first two to find Mari after all... 

‘He found her hanging from that tree, and you decided to push him in that same direction? Some friend you are.’

“Sunny... he broke the violin, just flung it from the top of the staircase. Mari was yelling, Sunny was shaking, and I was just... stood there, watching. I didn’t know what to do—I just—” he pauses, taking another deep breath. “They were fighting, shoving each other and—Mari... she blamed herself but... they both fell and—” 

“Sunny lost his eye,” Aubrey finishes blankly. 

“He landed on that stupid violin and—Christ... Aubrey, there was so much b-blood,” Basil stutters, his voice breaking slightly. “The rest of the day was a blur from there... no one even realised Mari’s leg was busted until she suddenly collapsed at the hospital. Gotta love adrenaline, ey?” he adds with a forced laugh. 

“...” 

“He was comatose for three days. She had to use a cane for the rest of the year. And the rest is history...” he concludes solemnly. 

What can she even say to any of that? She wants to deny it, to scream at him for ever suggesting Mari could hurt one of them... but she can’t deny it checks out. It answers basically all of her questions about this reality, whilst also raising a million more about her own. Basil’s story hasn’t so much cleared up her pile of discrepancies as it has scattered them even further.

“In my world...” she mumbles after a long stretch of silence. “The recital—Mari—” 

“Aubrey?” Basil asks with clear concern. 

She can already feel the tears sting in her eyes, but she has to push on. It’s only fair. Basil’s done his part; now, it’s her turn. 

“Mari... she killed herself...” she says, voice breaking mid-sentence as she chokes on her words. “S-She—she hung herself... in the backyard and I-I don’t know why!” she continues, tears forming in her eyes, but not quite falling. “She n-never said goodbye, Basil! Didn't even leave a n-note! She was g-gone... just like that.” 

A few tears flow freely from her eyes now, she sniffles a bit and tries to regain her composure. Looking up, she’s greeted by Basil’s mortified face. 

“Mari—she—that doesn’t—” 

“Don’t!” Aubrey snaps. “ Please. Just... just don’t.” 

“But that doesn’t—that doesn’t make any sense,” he mumbles, a defeated expression on her face. “Aubrey, are you sure Sunny didn’t—” 

“Of course I’m sure!” she yells. “You think I wouldn’t notice if he was missing his eye?!” 

Basil averts his gaze, and Aubrey feels a pang of shame. 

“Look, I get what you’re saying, but that—that didn’t happen in my world,” Aubrey explains, struggling to juggle her anger and understanding. “If it did... well, maybe then I’d have some closure. At least there would be a clear reason why she... did what she did.” 

The flower boy continues to stare at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. His breathing sounds strained, and he’s visibly shaken by her words. Although, Aubrey imagines she doesn’t look much better. This isn’t exactly a fun walk down memory lane, describing the worst day of her life to a man who could never truly understand it.  

“But there wasn’t,” the delinquent continues, sniffling some more. “She just... left.” 

“Was... was I there?” the blonde asks. 

“Basil?” a young girl whimpers.  

The boy before her is sitting on the curb, shaking uncontrollably, with a blanket wrapped around him. He’s mumbling a bunch of nonsensical words and phrases, but all she can make out is ‘Mari’, ‘Sunny’, and ‘something’.  

Upon hearing her voice, his head suddenly shoots up, his wide blue eyes meeting her own, pure terror etched onto his face.  

“Yeah. You and Sunny... you were the ones to find her,” she replies, shuddering at the memory and feeling another pang of guilt. 

He found her hanging there, her empty eyes glaring down at him, the same face he saw every time he opened his album, now pale and lifeless. His prized possession must have been rendered nothing more than a painful reminder. It doesn’t justify what he did, but... 

‘You tortured him for grieving.’

Just like with Sunny, it was so easy to tell herself that Basil didn’t care about Mari. But now there’s living proof of the contrary sitting right in front of her. A Basil who didn’t live through this tragedy yet is still visibly upset by it. 

“And she—” Basil chokes, finally meeting her gaze, a pained look in his eyes. “She... hung herself?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Oh my God...” the blonde mumbles, grabbing his head and clenching his hair a bit too tightly. “I—no, no surely not—” he mumbles. 

His mutterings unsettle the pinkette, giving her the worst kind of Deja Vu, as the memory of a shaking Basil sitting on the curb replays over and over in her mind.  

But even ignoring that nagging memory, something about his response doesn’t sit right with her. She doesn’t know how to explain it, let alone rationalise it, but... it feels like he’s reacting to something else here. 

“You good?” she eventually asks, still not being able to escape the feeling that there’s something off about him. 

‘Off? Seriously? You just told him your friend killed herself! Did you seriously expect him not to freak out?!’ 

“I—” Basil pauses, looking up at her with clear hesitation. She gets the impression he wants to tell her something, but doesn’t know how to. “S-Sorry it’s—that’s just... a lot to take in,” he eventually mumbles in response, eyes fixed on the floor once again. 

“No kidding.” 

Whatever he’d wanted to say, he’d clearly decided against it, which, in all honesty, is probably for the best. Aubrey isn’t sure she could handle him trying to psychoanalyse her friend’s suicide. She’s warming up to this blonde, but that’s still a bridge too far. 

Once again, the two teens fall silent, as the radio blares some song she doesn’t recognise. 

“So... any questions?” Aubrey asks with a weak laugh, all the while internally praying that he doesn’t take her up on that offer. 

“N-No, I think—I think I got the gist,” Basil replies, sounding somewhat queasy. “You?” 

She has a lot of questions, actually. But right now, there’s only one on her mind, one that’s been nagging her ever since their fight at the lake. 

“Why are you helping me?” 

The flower boy is left stunned for a moment; his mouth agape as he tries to muster a response.  

“I... honestly, I really don’t know,” Basil eventually admits. “At first, it was because I thought you were just confused, then because I didn’t know what else to do. But now...” 

He pauses and stares at her, a small frown on his face. 

“I don’t like you,” he states, causing Aubrey to miss a breath. “You’re mean, bitter, and impulsive, and—you've been through some... horrible things, and I know you must be scared, but that doesn’t justify... whatever,” he sighs. “Fact is, you’re not my friend and you clearly don’t want to be, and that’s fine. I was resigned to that, but then at the lake-” 

Aubrey involuntarily shudders at the mention of the hangout spot. For all her rage towards the blonde, she’s truly never wanted him dead. 

“You had me by the shirt, dangling over it... for a second I thought you might drop me,” he continues. “But then I saw your face, and you didn’t look mad, you looked horrified... you had that look to you, one I haven’t seen in years.”

It’s immediately apparent who he’s referring to. 

“Mari...” Aubrey mutters. 

“The one and only,” Basil sighs. “I still remember it—she was just sat there, slumped over Sunny’s broken body, desperately trying to stop the blood from flowing,” he recalls with a distant look in his eyes. “That wasn’t the look of a murderer or a monster, just... an idiot.” 

“Eh?” 

“An idiot, who was stressed and confused and simply went a bit too far,” he explains. “An idiot who maybe, just maybe, deserves a second chance.”  

“...” 

“So, to answer your question, that’s why I’m helping you. Not because I have to, or even because it’s the right thing to do, but because I want to, and because I think you need it,” he concludes with a soft smile. “...And also, because I do still need my friend back,” he adds sheepishly. “So, I don’t suppose you know how you got here in the first place?” 

“I—no...” she replies, struggling to get her thoughts straight. 

“Oh well, we’ll figure it out,” Basil says, with enough confidence that she almost believes him. Almost. 

“...Thank you,” she murmurs, not knowing what else to say. 

“You can thank me by working on your act!” Basil replies, sounding way too similar to his—Caretaker? Pseudo-parent? Whatever Polly is. “I ‘convinced’ Sunny you were just having a rough day, but I don’t think he really bought that. I get why you freaked out, but if you could like... not. Then that’d be great.” 

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Aubrey groans. “It’s just—I haven’t seen him in years and now—urgh, it’s weird, okay! Can you imagine just waking up one morning, and suddenly you’re dating the guy?!” 

Basil remains silent, choosing instead to stare at the floor again, a faint blush present on his cheeks. 

“Right. Clearly asking the wrong person here,” she mumbles, smirking a little at the blonde’s red-faced cry of protest. “So, how should I be acting? Because I don’t know... me.” 

“Well, you—” 

“Kids! Dinners' ready!” Polly calls out, interrupting the blonde. 

The two teens groan together, annoyed that this conversation is getting delayed again.  Whatever, she’ll have her answer by the end of the night either way. Then tomorrow... well, she’ll just cross that bridge when she comes to it. 

“I guess I’ll tell you later,” Basil offers with a shrug. 

“Sure,” Aubrey grumbles. “I need to use the bathroom anyway, where—”

“Just at the back of the house,” the blonde interjects, gesturing in that general direction. 

“Sick,” she replies, rising to her feet and dusting herself off. “I’ll only be a minute.” 

“Okay, don’t take too long though, you don’t want it to go cold. Trust me, Polly makes a great curry,” Basil says, with a small smile. 

“I won’t, don’t worry,” she responds with a smile of her own. 

Their conversation was quite... heavy, but at least she knows where she stands now, so hopefully, things will be a little easier going forward. If nothing else, the prospect of an actual home-cooked meal is quite appealing. Aubrey couldn’t even say the last time she had one—well, aside from this morning’s breakfast anyway. 

‘Damn, you really are moving up in the world, aren’t you, Aubrey? Fresh food, a nice room, a house that doesn’t smell like a dump; what’s next? A jacuzzi? ’ 

She’ll settle for a calm evening. Today has been way too eventful. All she wants now is to just unwind for the night. The weirdness can wait until tomorrow. 

Opening the bathroom door, Aubrey immediately notices that it smells like flowers, which really shouldn’t surprise her at this point. After all, the entire damn house is covered from head to toe in plant life. If she didn’t know any better, she’d simply assume nature had reclaimed this place years ago. But no, this place is just a florist's fantasy. Credit to the Flower family though, they certainly commit to the bit.  

Sighing, she enters the bathroom and goes about her ablutions. 

Groaning at the sight of flower-printed toilet paper, she makes her way over to the sink and turns the tap on. She gives it time to warm up, reasoning that she deserves to enjoy actual hot water for a change. As she waits, she takes a second to look at her reflection in the mirror. The bruises from her fight with Basil earlier are finally starting to form, joining all the other small cuts and scars she’s received over the years.  

The sight makes her chuckle a little. 

‘Not bad Bas.’ 

They shouldn’t have fought... but she’s glad he held his own. If she’s got to be all buddy-buddy with this blonde, then it’s good to know he’s got some bite in him. His counterpart would have curled up and died by now. 

‘Or you would have killed him yourself.’

Shaking the thought away, she looks back down at the sink and starts to wash her hands, enjoying the feeling of the scolding water as it washes away the grease, dirt, and blood—

Jumping back in shock, Aubrey blinks rapidly, only to realise that her hands aren’t bloody, and are in fact, actually quite clean. 

‘I’m genuinely losing it...’ 

Travelling dimensions and reliving trauma clearly isn’t doing her psyche any favours.  

Sighing, she turns the tap and waits a second for the water to cool down. She then cups her hands under the steady stream, allowing the cold water to pool in her palms, before splashing it against her face. She instinctively shivers at the sudden cold shock but quickly recovers as the moment passes. Feeling refreshed, she looks back up at her reflection and... 

‘What??? ’ 

Her reflection looks... different. It’s her, that's for sure, but she’s missing her contacts, her hair is styled in a ponytail, and her face is... softer, lacking any of the injuries from this morning’s brawl. And is that her old hoodie? She hasn’t worn that thing in years! 

“What the hell?” she mumbles, only for her heart to drop as her reflection doesn’t mimic her words. 

Her own face stares back at her in horror before suddenly shifting to an aggressive expression, and shooting an accusing glare at her. Aubrey is speechless, too stunned to even react, but her reflection is not. The doppelgänger opens her mouth and—

“ YOU! ” 

Chapter Text

A rhythmic beeping noise fills the otherwise silent hospital room, as a young girl watches the green line on the screen in front of her move up and down in a steady, repeating pattern. It’ll come as no surprise to anyone that staring at a heart monitor is only marginally more interesting than watching paint dry. The repetitive movement of the line threatens to lull her into a trance, as her mind begins to wander, the unwanted memories of what caused all of this tugging at the back of her brain. Shaking her head, the girl quickly regains her focus and continues to stare at the monitor. It’s incredibly boring, but she can’t peel her eyes away from it for long. After all, it’s the only proof she has that her friend is still alive.

Sure, he’s laid out on the bed right next to her, but he doesn’t look... Well, she doesn’t like looking at him. Not like this. Not with his head wrapped in bandages and bulky plastic tubes sticking into his sickly pale skin, his body as still as a corp—No! No, that’s not what living looks like. Living looks like a green line moving up and down, stuck in that constant cycle, making that same stupid beeping sound, over and over.  

And over.  

And over.  

And over.  

And ŏ̷̬̞̰̒v̸̯̕e̵̛̙͔̻̋—  

Visiting hours will be over soon, and Aubrey knows she should probably visit Mari before she has to go. A part of her was just really hoping Sunny would wake up today. It’s been nearly three days since he was first admitted now—three days of constant confusion and anxiety. Only Basil and Mari seem to have any idea of what’s really going on, and those two haven’t exactly been the most talkative as of late. The former has been completely inconsolable, devolving into a stuttering mess at the mere mention of Sunny’s name. Whilst the latter is on so many painkillers, she can barely form a sentence.  

That day had felt like a nightmare, one minute they were all getting ready for the sibling's recital, and the next minute they were crowded around a stretcher, as Sunny was rushed away into the back of an ambulance. Only Mari was allowed to ride with him, but by the time the rest of them arrived at the hospital, she too, had been admitted. Apparently, her leg had buckled almost as soon as she entered the building. So now both Suzuki’s are stuck in this over-sanitised skyscraper they call a hospital, whilst Aubrey’s just sat here, waiting for something to happen. With no answers, no condolences, and no clear directions on what to do next.  

‘Why is this happening to us?’  

Everything in her life is falling apart around her, and she can’t do anything about it.  

‘This isn’t fair.’  

For once, just once, something in her life was finally going well for her. She had friends, people she would consider family, and now, it’s being ripped away from her, and she can’t do anything about it. Aubrey's brooding is interrupted as she feels a sudden wetness on her hand. Looking down, she sees that, sure enough, some water has dripped down onto it. She looks up at the roof to see if there’s a leak and—

‘Oh.’  

She’s crying. Yeah, that makes more sense.  

But the thing about crying is, once you start, it’s rather hard to stop. So, from there, the dams completely open up and Aubrey begins to sob uncontrollably, curling up on herself and covering her head with her hands. She’s so distracted that she fails to notice the sudden spike in the heart monitor and the slight shuffling of the figure next to her.  

“Sunny p-please...” she begs, her voice shaking with every syllable. “Please wake up... I—”

“Aubrey?” a soft voice mumbles from beside her.  

“AH!” the girl screams. Her shock fades almost instantly as she realises whose voice that was. “Sunny?! Oh, thank—are you okay?!”  

The bandaged boy fidgets on his bed, fighting against the tubes and wrappings that bind him. Much to her horror, his movement becomes more frantic and panicked with every passing second.  

“I can’t—I can’t see...” he whimpers, as the heart monitor starts to beep faster and faster. “I can’t—”  

“C-Calm down, Sunny! I’m gonna go get help, I’ll be right back!” Aubrey yells in response, quickly rushing out the door and down the hallway. “NURSE! NURSE!”  

Her blind rush forward meets a sudden and painful halt as she collides headfirst with someone passing by.  

“S-Sorry I—wait! Basil?!” Aubrey yells, shocked by the presence of the blonde.  

“O-Oh, sorry, Aubrey, I just—” he goes to reply, only to be interrupted by her grabbing his hand. “A-Aubrey?”  

Not wasting another second, she continues her race, dragging the flower boy along with her.  

“Sorry, Basil! But we need to find a doctor, fast!”  

“W-What? Why?!”  

“Because! It’s—”  

“Sunny.” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re gonna get hit, dude,” Aubrey states, looking down at the boy lying on her lap. 

They’re lounging on his bed, relaxing—or well, she’s relaxing anyway. He’s getting heated over some new Spaceboy game they just released. The boy in question simply shakes his head in response and continues to play with his console, completely undeterred. Barely a second later, a stray shot from an enemy hits the boy’s avatar, causing it to explode into a bunch of colourful pixels, as the screen flashes and the words ‘GAME OVER’ slowly fade in. 

“Told you,” she smirks. 

“Don’t backseat game,” Sunny mumbles, clearly salty about his loss. 

“Okay. Well, in that case, I bet you’d do a lot better sat up straight,” she taunts. “Want me to move?” 

“...No,” he murmurs after a second. 

“That’s what I thought,” she says, flashing a mischievous smile and flicking a stray strand of his hair. “You’re cute when you’re pouting, you know.” 

“I nearly had it,” he whines, placing the handheld device down and leaning back into her embrace. 

“I know, Sun,” Aubrey laughs, amused by his sulking. “Maybe next time?” 

“Maybe.” 

‘ Suzuki’s... ’ she mentally sighs. Even after all these years, the two siblings still have a bit of a perfectionist streak. It’s not super obvious, but it does still show sometimes when it comes to things like this. Aubrey does get it though, her boyfriend is shockingly good at games, so not being able to beat the first level of one must sting a little. She’ll be the first to admit it’s a bit silly, but at least he’s passionate about something. 

“You looking forward to seeing the others?” she asks after a stretch of comfortable silence. 

Sunny simply nods his head in response whilst idly fiddling with his console’s joystick. 

Hero and Mari get back from college in a couple of days, so they’re all throwing a massive welcome home ‘party’ for them. Admittedly, it’s going to be more akin to a big family dinner than an actual party, but there’ll be good food and friends, so that’s more than enough in Aubrey’s book. Besides, she hardly ever sees her eldest two friends these days; they’ve been so busy ever since they started college. So she’s glad they’re finally taking a break from studying for a while. 

“It’ll be good to see them, I swear I haven’t heard from either of them in ages,” Aubrey thinks aloud, catching Sunny’s attention. 

The raven-haired boy pauses, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He flicks it open and gestures to his texts. There are a lot of messages from Mari, and whilst he’s replied to all of them, his texts are noticeably shorter than his sister's, and that—well, that actually summarises the two Suzuki’s pretty well, she’d say. 

“Oh. Well... it’s nice that she stays in touch,” Aubrey comments, suddenly feeling slightly jealous of her boyfriend. “Kel says Hero is a nightmare when it comes to answering calls.” 

“Too busy partying,” Sunny deadpans. 

“Ha! Can you imagine Hero on the dancefloor?” she chuckles. “Man, I would pay to see that.” 

“Sis says he’s alright at it,” he muses, a surprisingly contemplative look on his face. 

“Yeah? Well, they do say love is blind,” the pinkette laughs, expecting her boyfriend to join her.  

Instead, he rises from her lap and stares at her with a shockingly serious expression. 

“No,” he states. “Only half,” he adds pointing to his eyepatch. 

“Oh shut up!” she giggles, flicking his forehead. “You and your stupid eye puns.” 

Seriously, if Aubrey didn’t know better, she’d think losing his eye was the best thing that ever happened to him. He managed to find the few advantages of being a cyclops and ran with them; mainly eye puns and several shockingly creative variations of pirate costumes for Halloween. 

“Ow,” Sunny pouts, rubbing his forehead. 

Rolling her eyes, Aubrey leans in and kisses the spot she flicked a moment ago. 

“Better?” she asks, with red cheeks and a smug smile. 

“Y-Yeah,” Sunny stutters in response. 

She genuinely can’t believe they’re here some days. Seeing him laid out on that stretcher four years ago... a part of her was certain he’d never wake up. She’s glad she was wrong. 

They fall back into comfortable silence for a while. Sunny attempts to beat that first level a few more times before eventually quitting after a series of game-overs. 

“Been thinking about changing my hair lately,” Aubrey ponders aloud, quickly gaining the boy’s attention. 

“The colour?” he asks, clearly surprised. 

“No! No...” she replies, sounding much more defensive than she intended. Pink hair isn’t just a gimmick to her, it’s a promise, a symbol of friendship... and it just generally suits her. “Just like, the style or something.” 

“I like the ponytail,” Sunny mumbles. 

“You said that about the braids, too,” Aubrey points out, frowning slightly.  

Seriously, he is zero help when it comes to fashion; every outfit, hairstyle, and accessory gets the Sunny seal of approval with no pushback whatsoever. 

“...I like you,” he replies with a shrug. 

“S-Shut up!” 

Time passes (as it tends to do) and after some idle conversation, Sunny suddenly shoots up from Aubrey’s lap, his one eye wide and worried. 

“Uh... babe?” he asks. 

“Yeah, Sun?” Aubrey replies, snapping out her thoughts. 

Without breaking eye contact, he points to the clock and the wall and—

‘Oh no.’  

She was meant to be home half an hour ago. Polly is going to kill her. 

“Shit!” she curses, the realisation of just how screwed she is dawning on her almost immediately. 

“Yeah,” Sunny agrees, 

“I should probably go.” 

“Probably.” 

“I’m gonna put my shoes on, can you go grab my hoodie?” she asks as she rolls off the bed and onto her feet. 

Sunny nods in response and rises from the bed, so Aubrey grabs her trainers and quickly throws them on, haphazardly tying her laces whilst her boyfriend retrieves her hoodie from his sister’s bed. With Mari away at university, the older Suzuki’s bed has become a dumping ground for... well, a bunch of random stuff. Thankfully, Sunny isn’t a very messy person, so it’s mainly just small things he clearly didn’t know where else to put. 

“You should probably clean that,” the pinkette suggests, catching the yellow hoodie the boy throws over to her. “Mari won’t be thrilled to see her bed like that,” she adds, quickly pushing her head through the jacket and arms through the sleeves. 

“I will,” Sunny mumbles, staring at the collection of plushies, comics, and other assorted knick-knacks. “...Eventually.” 

“She gets home in like, two days!” she reminds him, now slightly exasperated. 

The raven-haired boy simply pouts and points at the clock in response. 

“Jerk,” she grumbles. “You at least gonna see me out then?” 

“Of course,” he replies, whilst slipping on his own shoes. “Let’s go.” 

Exiting his room, Aubrey grabs Sunny’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before they slowly make their way downstairs. She’d prefer to go a little quicker, but Sunny can still be a bit... nervous when going down these steps. Pretty understandable considering the circumstances, even if it is a mild inconvenience.  

‘Ah, well, I’m late anyway.’

They’ve just barely stepped down onto the landing when the door to the living room suddenly opens, and out steps a tall, quiet, and imposing figure... Sunny’s dad. 

“Ah, hello, Mr Suzuki,” Aubrey greets, trying her best to not show how nervous she feels. 

“Hello, Aubrey,” he replies with a cold tone and cliff-faced expression. 

The young pinkette can already feel the sweat forming on her brow. The oldest Suzuki has always been somewhat intimidating, but when she started dating his son, that unease increased tenfold. Aubrey always knew he was protective of his kids—his death glares towards Hero made it abundantly clear that he didn’t like Mari dating. But they had all simply assumed that it was just an ‘overprotective Dad’ thing—and it was! But it wasn’t gender specific; he just doesn’t like his kids dating, period. 

The second she got with Sunny, Aubrey started to notice that she too was getting those same death stares. It’s almost impressive how a silent stare can so effectively unnerve someone. She always feels like her entire being is getting dissected and analysed whenever she’s in his presence, and although it’s a wordless judgement, she feels like she knows the verdict. 

‘Sunny could do better. That’s what he’s thinking.’ It has to be, she can just tell... and part of her fears he might be right. 

The man suddenly turns to his son and the two proceed to have a wordless staring match. Then, after what feels like an eternity, they finally stop and break eye contact, as the older Suzuki grunts in what the pinkette assumes is agreement.  

“Carry on,” he says, giving Aubrey one last glance. “Get home safe,” he adds, before making his way upstairs. 

“Uhhh, will do... thanks?” she replies, utterly baffled. 

She feels a tug on her shoulder and turns around to see Sunny waiting with an expectant look. 

“Let’s go,” he says casually, like that wasn’t the weirdest encounter she’s had all year. 

“Sunny... What the hell was that?!” 

“Oh, Dad just wanted to know where we were going,” he replies, matter-of-factly. 

“What—but he didn’t—how did you—that doesn’t even—” she stutters.  

Her brain is going to short-circuit if she keeps questioning this, and she does not have the time for that. 

“Whatever. You’re right. Let’s just go,” she relents with a sigh, as she makes her way over to the front door. 

Faraway is always pretty in the evening, especially during summer. The warm orange hues, the peaceful atmosphere, what’s not to love? 

Aubrey wishes she could just take her time, leisurely stroll through Faraway, basking in the last of the setting sun’s warmth. But alas, she is very late, meaning Polly will be very pissed, so they don’t really have much time to take in the scenery. Hell, at the rate they’ve been going, this has been more of a jog than a walk, but she can’t complain too much. She is supposed to be in a hurry after all, and she can tell from their surroundings that they’re already nearly at her place; it should be just a couple of houses away now. 

Sure enough, after a little bit more walking, they finally arrive at their destination, the Flower residence, her home for the past couple of years. Covered head to toe (or is it porch to the roof?) in plant life, the cosy little house certainly lives up to its name. 

“We’re here,” Sunny states. 

“No kidding,” Aubrey deadpans, only to smirk as her boyfriend pouts again. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, silly.” 

“Goodbye kiss for luck?” he asks unabashedly. 

‘How bold.’ 

It's funny, it took him years to get to this point. When they first started dating, he’d practically melt at any form of physical contact. They’d hold hands, and she’d see hearts in his eyes; it always made her feel so special. Still, she’s not caving that easily.  

‘Let the boy work for it a little.’ 

“You need luck?” she grins in response. 

“Need? No. Want? Definitely,” he replies, nodding his head repeatedly and enthusiastically. 

‘...Damn it,’ she mentally curses. Looks like she will be caving that easily after all. 

It’s moments like this that make Aubrey glad she can’t see her own face. However, if the burning sensation she feels in her cheeks is any indication, then she must look as flustered as she feels. 

“W-Well, I can’t say no to that,” she stutters, her face blushing a brilliant bright red. 

Slowly approaching him, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and stares deeply into his one eye, with their faces now mere inches apart, she moves in to— 

“Aw, aren’t you two the cutest?” a familiar voice interjects. 

“BASIL?!” Aubrey screams, practically flinging her boyfriend away as she turns to face the blonde standing on the doorstep. “W-What the hell, dude?!” 

“Hello, Aubrey,” he greets, completely ignoring her flustered rage. “Hey, Sunny.” 

“S-Sup,” the raven-haired boy replies, face similarly red. 

“Oh, not much with me, how about yo—oh wait! I believe you were in the middle of something~” the blonde teases with an obnoxiously smug smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but dinner is ready, so if you two are done making out—” 

“BASIL I SWEAR TO GOD!” 

Years of friendship, companionship, a bond so strong she’d almost call it familial, all that history with this blonde prick... and she is this close to throwing it all out the window, because if he says another word, then she is going to throttle his sorry a— 

“He’s right,” Sunny sighs, snapping Aubrey out of her violent thoughts.  

“I know,” she admits with a groan. Turning to face her boyfriend with a tired smile, she reluctantly goes to bid him farewell. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Bye, Auby,” he replies, still visibly blushing. 

He turns to leave, quite literally walking off into the sunset, his form dark, silhouetted against the orange evening sky. It’s quite the sight, yet she can’t help but feel disappointed. They were in the middle of something after all... 

“Hey!” she instinctively calls out. 

Sunny comes to a sudden halt, then slowly but surely turns around to face her once again. He’s clearly confused and maybe even a little concerned. Aubrey freezes, unable to answer the questions he clearly wants to ask. Cursing her impulsiveness, she attempts to psyche herself up, trying and failing to steel her nerves. 

‘You’ve come this far. You’ve got to see it through!' she reasons to herself, before taking a long, deep breath. ‘...Screw it.’ 

Practically lunging forward, she gives the boy a quick peck on the lips, before immediately recoiling in embarrassment, like she’d just been burnt by a stove. 

“For luck,” she states confidently. Well, it’s more of a mimicry of confidence, but hey, who’s keeping track? 

“I—you—pretty—wait no—I mean yes! I—" Sunny stutters, his face beet red. “B-Bye!” he adds, only to sprint away barely a second later. 

‘I can NOT believe I just did that.’ 

Mari would be proud, she’s certain of that, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to lose sleep over this tonight. Barely a minute ago, she was reflecting on how shy he could be, and now she—

‘AAAAA! Damn it! Mari makes this stuff look so easy...’ 

Groaning, she turns back to her house and is greeted by the same smug flower boy standing on the porch, his smirk somehow even wider than before. 

“Not. A. Word,” she warns, her face once again burning a bright brilliant red.  

“What?” Basil asks, with false offence. “My dear Aubergine, I would neve—” 

“Basil!” she growls, clenching her fists whilst her eyes dart around the yard, searching for something to throw at the smug prick. 

“I’m just kidding! What you two have is really sweet it’s—wait, no—h-hold on! Aubrey, what are you doing with that flowerpot?!” 

“Do I even want to ask?” Polly sighs, addressing the two dirt-covered teens sitting in front of her. 

The blonde and pinkette sit on the couch in silence, avoiding eye contact with each other and trying their best to not get soil anywhere. Eventually, Aubrey gets sick of silently staring at the abundance of plant life scattered around the living room, so she decides to speak up first. Unfortunately for her, Basil has the same idea. 

“He did it.”  

“She did it.” 

“What?!” they both simultaneously protest, turning to glare at each other. 

“You tried to pour a flowerpot over my head!” Basil yells. 

“And I failed! You poured it back onto me!” Aubrey retorts. 

“You picked up the soil and threw it at my face!” 

“I...” she pauses, struggling to find a comeback. “Okay, I did do that. But I did also warn you.” 

“That’s not—ugh! This must be how Kel feels,” Basil grumbles under his breath. “What a waste of a perfectly good tulip...” 

Aubrey frowns, feeling a slight pang of guilt at that last comment. Basil does spend a lot of time with his plants; he’s very passionate about his craft, so, ruining one of them was a bit of a dick move on her end... even if he was being annoying. 

“Sorry about that...” she apologises awkwardly, fiddling with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“It’s fine,” he sighs in response. “Sorry for teasing you.” 

“You’re good just—” she pauses, blushing slightly. “Please don’t tell the others about that.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” the blonde smiles. “I promise.” 

‘Thank God.’  

If the others heard about her little stunt, then she’d never hear the end of it, especially from Mari. That woman is a tease-monster; she smells embarrassment like a shark smells blood in the water. It’s all in good taste of course, but it can be a little exhausting, not to mention totally unfair! Seriously, what is she supposed to tease Mari about?! She and Hero have been going strong for like—forever! At this rate, Aubrey will probably end up being their bridesmaid in a few years! 

“So... no hard feelings then?” Basil hesitantly asks, the obvious anxiety in his tone gaining the pinkette’s attention. 

“Of course not,” she replies, almost scoffing at the thought. 

As if she’d ever let their friendship sour over something as stupid as that! Honestly, it’s a little offensive that he thinks she would, and also... somewhat concerning. They’ve lived together for years now, and yet he still thinks she’ll just up and ditch him one day. It’s a telling reaction and a very sad one at that. But before she can ponder the matter any further, an irritated cough interrupts her thoughts and draws both teens' attention back to their caretaker. 

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” the woman sighs. “But you—” she continues, gesturing towards Aubrey. “—are late! And both of you are absolutely filthy! So please, go clean yourselves. I don’t want you tracking mud through the house! Once you’re both ready, then we’ll eat.” 

“I thought dinner was done alre—” 

“It is,” Polly reaffirms. “But I can microwave it if need be.” 

“Thanks, Polly,” the two teens reply. 

“No problem,” the older woman sighs. “Now, seriously, go get clean, you’re getting mud on the couch!” 

Heeding the woman’s words and deciding to not push their luck any further, the two friends quickly make their way over to the bathroom. 

“Bagsy!” Aubrey calls, claiming it first. 

“Boo Aubs. Boo,” Basil deadpans. “Just... don't take too long, please,” he sighs in defeat. 

Entering the bathroom, she makes an immediate beeline for the sink. Plugging it, she turns the tap on and watches as the basin slowly fills with hot water. As she waits, she looks at her reflection in the mirror and immediately notices that her face is absolutely covered in soil. 

‘Great...’ 

Groaning, she turns the tap off and attempts to clean herself to... mixed results. Turns out soil is kind of hard to get out of your hair with only a sink-wash. Still, she does her best and manages to wash off the worst of the dirt. Although she also makes a mental note to get a shower before she goes to bed... or maybe in the morning, depending on how tired she is.  

Drying her face and hair off with a towel, she exits the bathroom and passes it over to Basil. 

“Knock yourself out,” she says whilst strolling over to her room. “I’m gonna go get changed.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you in a minute,” Basil replies, taking the towel and entering the bathroom. 

‘What to wear? ’ Aubrey ponders as she opens the door to her room. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? You can’t beat a good hoodie.’ 

Her room is a small but comfortable one, a far cry from the rotting attic she used to live in. It’s also one of the few rooms in the house that isn’t completely covered in flowers, well, with the exception of a small, potted potted Hoya Kerrii plant sitting by the window. Trinkets, keepsakes, and framed photos litter the desks and drawers around the room, whilst her trusty wooden bat leans against the wardrobe, a reminder of her short-lived softball ‘career’.  

But the highlight of the room is the modest wooden pen in the corner, and more specifically, the little white ball of fluff sat within it. 

“Hello Bunbun!” Aubrey coos, leaning down to pet the rabbit. The bundle of joy squees in response, and it takes all of her willpower to not waste the next hour petting her faithful companion. 

Dragging herself away from the pen, she walks over to her wardrobe, opens it up, and stares blankly at the five identical yellow hoodies hanging there. 

‘Damn... I really need to buy some new clothes.’ 

Dinner is pretty unremarkable, microwaved tofu is... an acquired taste. But despite an interesting texture, Aubrey can honestly say she’s had worse. The three of them make idle talk whilst they eat: Polly scolds the two a little more for making such a mess earlier, Basil talks about some flower Aubrey doesn’t recognise the name of, and she discusses her plans for the summer. Gino’s is probably going to offer her a more permanent position, so if she plays her cards right, then she should be able to make a decent chunk of money over the holiday. 

It’s all idle chatter, very casual and not especially interesting, but she still loves every second of it. Sitting together, eating at the same table, talking about whatever’s on their mind, it’s so... simple but so pleasant. Her old home was nothing like this. The handful of times her family actually bothered to sit and eat together usually ended in a screaming match. That’s why, as a kid, she was always somewhat jealous of Sunny and Kel, the lives they lived, the family they had. Part of her had felt... robbed, like she had gotten the short end of the stick that is life. Obviously, she never held it against them, you can’t exactly help who your family is, but... 

Family isn’t just blood relations; it’s something you make, it’s the people you choose to love and the bonds you form with them. But her parents didn’t want to talk to each other, let alone her. They didn’t want those bonds, that companionship... They weren’t a family, just a bunch of broken people stuck together, rotting under a roof that threatened to give way any day. The sad truth is that there was nothing left to salvage in that house. It’s hardly a surprise that the local council had the place demolished. 

Shuddering slightly, Aubrey tries to shake the thoughts away as she absentmindedly prods a piece of tofu with her fork. At least now, she has what she’s always wanted, as simple and silly as it may sound, a seat at the table, and more importantly, people to share it with. 

Smiling at the thought, the pinkette continues to quietly eat her food, relishing in the cosy atmosphere. 

When dinner’s done and the plates are cleaned, Aubrey crashes down onto the couch, a strange wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting her. She hasn’t even been especially active today, but for some reason, she feels like she could sleep through the rest of the year. 

“I... I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” she says, thinking aloud. 

“Really? It’s quite early, you know,” Polly replies. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m just shattered,” Aubrey yawns in response. 

“Ah, well, okay then. If you’re sure...”  

“I thought we were gonna watch the new Jackson movie tonight?” Basil pouts, sounding genuinely disappointed. 

‘...Oh yeah, I forgot about that.’ 

They’d agreed to watch the newest Jackson movie last week, but their watch session kept getting delayed because either he or she was too busy whenever the other wanted to watch it. A damn shame too, this one promised to be the bloodiest of the nonology... and probably the last one too, because apparently, the film licensing is a complete mess. 

Thinking about it a little more, it’s kind of funny, most people would assume that Basil would be too much of a scaredy cat to ever watch something like that, but he’s actually really weird with what unnerves him. Slasher movies barely phase him, but at the same time, he'll literally jump at his own shadow! 

“Isn’t that rated R?” Polly asks, with clear disapproval and a raised eyebrow. 

Basil stutters some lame excuses, before turning to look at her with a nervous expression that screams ‘ please help ’. 

“Beats me,” Aubrey shrugs. “Well, goodnight you two, I’ll see you in the morning,” she adds quickly as she rises from her seat.  

“H-Hey! Wait a second—”

“Sorry can’t hearyouI’mtootiredbye!” she replies, sprinting out of the room and leaving the blonde to his scolding.  

Normally, she’d help him out, but she is just way too exhausted right now. She barely even manages to make it through the door, before she crashes down onto her bed. Not even bothering to get changed, she just lies there, staring at the ceiling as her consciousness starts to fade. 

“Night Bunbun,” she yawns, relaxing her head into her pillow. 

‘Today was a good day.’ 

“Stupid rickety ladder!” a girl curses under her breath.  

Trying her best to be quiet, she slowly steps down each rung, all whilst balancing a small pile of clothes under her arms. It’s a bit precarious, but eventually, she reaches the ground floor. Stepping off the ladder, she instinctively flinches at the sound of a can being crushed beneath her shoe.  

Cursing again, she makes a beeline for the front door when—  

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” a voice slurs, causing the young girl to freeze on the spot.  

It was only a matter of time before she was caught. She’d been conveniently ‘forgetting’ a lot of stuff lately, leaving things at her friend’s houses whenever she was over, even trusting Bunbun with Basil. She’s pretty sure the blonde figured out what she was doing then, but thankfully, he didn’t question her on it.  

Not that it matters much now, considering the one person she didn’t want to find out about her plan just has.  

“Out,” she replies bluntly, refusing to face the lump of flesh glaring at her from her spot on the couch.  

“Out?” her mother replies with a hollow laugh. “You need a stack of clothes to go out?”  

“I... y-yeah—”  

“Do you think I’m stupid?” the woman snarls.  

‘You don’t want the answer to that question...’ Aubrey thinks to herself.  

“N-No,” she lies.  

With a painful groan, her mother staggers off the sofa and onto her feet. Then, with uneasy steps, the woman staggers over to her daughter, looming over the young teen. Her breath is stale, and her glare harsh. It takes all of Aubrey’s will not to cower on the spot.  

“I’ll ask you one more time,” the woman states. “Where are you going?”  

“I’m—I’m leaving,” she replies with as much confidence as she can muster.  

“You’re... leaving?” the woman repeats with a confused expression.  

“Leaving... here,” Aubrey clarifies, her hands now shaking uncontrollably. “I’m... running away.”  

It sounds silly saying it out loud. How many times at school has she heard some spoilt brat threatening to ‘run away’ because they got their allowance cut? More times than she can count by now. Amongst her peers, running away is a fantasy, a Hail Mary for any supposedly scorned child. But for Aubrey, it’s her chance at a better life, to leave this rotting husk behind, and quite literally move on to greener pastures.  

“Running awa—” her mother pauses, letting out a noise that’s somewhere between a sad laugh and a confused sigh of frustration.  

Taking a step back, and causing Aubrey to let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, the woman pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. Eyes closed, she shakes her head in disbelief before eventually looking back at her daughter.  

“No, you’re not,” she states plainly.  

“I—”  

“No. You’re. Not.”  

Aubrey impulsively moves backwards, as her mother takes a step forward.  

“You—you don’t even want me here!” she tries to reason.  

“Damn right I don’t!” the woman agrees. “But you’re a kid, you run off, and you’re gonna get us both in a lot of shit.”  

“I can’t—I won’t stay here, you—”  

The motion is so sudden it practically steals the breath from her lungs, as in the blink of an eye, her mother's hand is gripped firmly around her chin. Aubrey drops the clothes she was holding and watches in horror as tired, bloodshot eyes glare into her own with unbridled fury.  

“Listen to me, you little shit!” her mother snarls. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, you ruined my life! And I’ll be damned if you’re gonna cause me any more trouble. You wanna run off when you turn eighteen? Feel free! But until then, you’re staying here. I do NOT need CPS breathing down my neck right now.”  

“I—Christ! Where would you even go?!” she continues, visibly annoyed and audibly exasperated. "You'll just end up dead in some ditch...” she mumbles, with what Aubrey could almost swear was a hint of concern. Then again, the tight grip around her chin would argue against that observation.  

“M-My f-friends," Aubrey whimpers, tears starting to form in her eyes.  

They’re the only reason she felt confident enough to pull this stunt, she knows them well enough to be sure they’d have her back going forward. She just needs to reach them first...  

“Your—oh, you mean your creepy boytoy?” the woman scoffs, releasing Aubrey from her grasp in a small display of mercy, as she laughs joylessly. “Apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree...” she mumbles.

“W-What?”  

“Run off with some boy! Great bloody idea!” the woman mocks, a sudden rage returning to her voice. “And when you’re barely in your twenties, raising some parasite that bastard sticks you with, then we’ll see how well YOU handle everything!”  

She’s yelling at Aubrey, but at the same time she... isn’t? It’s like she’s looking through her, thinking of someone else as she spews her venom.  

“T-That’s not—” Aubrey still tries to protest.  

“I’m not arguing with you anymore,” the woman grunts. “Go to your room, now.”  

“N-No I’m not—”  

“I said NOW!”  

The atmosphere is tense; it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Aubrey’s mother glares at her child, and she glares back, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. They stand there, illuminated by the glow of TV static, sharing a silent stare-down. Aubrey knows that if she doesn’t leave now, then she’ll be stuck here forever, and she can’t allow that.  

“You’re going to die,” Aubrey states, voice wavering slightly as she continues to stare up at her mother. She watches as the hate in the woman’s eyes fades for a second, as confusion takes hold.  

“The hell are—are you threatening me, you little shit?!”  

“No,” she replies, trying to stop her voice from wavering. “You’re going to die someday... p-probably soon.”  

“...”  

“And you’re going to be alone,” she continues. “Because—because I won’t be here.”  

“...”  

“I won’t be here when you die,” she adds, volume and rage rising with each addition. “When they find your body, when they bury you, when they—” she pauses to catch her breath, glaring up at her mother. “You’ll never see me again...”  

“...”  

“B-Because... Because... BECAUSE I HATE YO—” she goes to scream, only to be cut short by a sudden stinging pain on her cheek.  

Falling to the ground, Aubrey clutches her cheek, the pain spreading rapidly throughout her body as her tears flow freely, staining her skirt. Looking up, she sees her mother, still standing over her, clearly stunned, staring at her hand. Her expression is indiscernible, not helped by the tears that fog the girl’s vision.  

“Get... the hell... out...” the woman murmurs between heavy shuddering breaths.  

That was all Aubrey needed to hear.  

Looking back, part of her could have sworn there was a pang of regret in those words. But it’s hard to say for sure, and honestly, it doesn’t really matter. She didn’t give her mother any time to change her mind. She just ran. Not even bothering to collect her clothes, she ran out of the house, with tears streaming down her bruised cheek, down the street, and through the pouring rain. She just ran and ran, and didn’t stop until she finally reached the Suzuki household.  

Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, or a morbidly ironic yet inevitable outcome, but sure enough, her mother did die alone... that very same night. She drank one bottle too many and finally croaked. And despite her promise, Aubrey did end up going to the funeral, although, even years later, she couldn’t quite say why.  

After all, it’s not like it did either of them any good.    

Grumbling to herself, Aubrey tosses and turns in her bed, the lingering memory of that nightmare stopping her from going back to sleep. It’s far from the first time she’s dreamt of that day, but it’s been quite a while since the last time. Part of her was foolish enough to think she might have moved on from it, but clearly, that isn’t the case. Sighing, she resigns herself to waking up early, reaching out for her lamp, she—she misses... 

‘Something is wrong.’ 

Her bedside table isn’t there, and now that she thinks about it, her bed feels different, yet familiar in all the wrong ways. Blinking a few times, her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and as her surroundings gradually become more visible, one thing becomes apparent. This isn’t her room.  

Well, technically it is, but it’s her old room, that dusty, rotting attic she wasted way too much of her childhood in. Now, inexplicably waking up here should terrify her—this room holds nothing but bad memories after all. But it doesn’t, because she knows for certain that this has to be a dream. Her old house was demolished years ago, so she can’t possibly be back here!

No, this is just another nightmare, it has to be... Although it does feel quite real... like, unnervingly real.  

‘Okay, Aubrey, deep breaths and—wait, how can I breathe in a dream? Or feel for that matter?! Or... or—okay, this is not helping! ’ she thinks to herself, trying and failing not to panic. ‘Okay, there’s a tried-and-true way to test this! ’ 

Lifting the tattered blanket off herself, she forms a ‘c’ with her thumb and index finger and goes to pinch her left arm, only to hesitate, stopping mere inches away from her forearm. She knows it’s irrational, but... she’s kind of scared of checking now. The answer has to be that this is just some messed up dream, but if it isn’t then... 

‘Screw it,’ she thinks, pinching her arm as hard as she can. The pain is almost instant—it’s a sudden stinging sensation that causes her to instinctively flinch and shake her arm. 

“Motherfu—oh... oh my God,” she murmurs, her face paling as a dreadful realisation dawns on her. 

‘This is real... But that doesn’t make sense! ’  

This place was demolished years ago—she saw it happen! They brought out a freaking wrecking ball to knock it down! You literally cannot destroy something more thoroughly than that! Besides, how would she even have gotten here in the first place? Last she checked, she was sleeping soundly back at the Flower residence. 

‘ Maybe... ’ she thinks, her breath hitching as her panic rises. ‘Maybe, this is a very realistic dream? A vivid dream, perhaps? ’ 

Yeah, vivid dreams! Sunny said he used to have them as a kid, and according to him, they can be barely distinguishable from reality sometimes. He’d described dreaming up entire worlds to her in the past, he said they were intricate yet nonsensical, realistic... but still fake. 

‘That definitely sounds a lot like my current situation.’ 

Settling on that explanation to avoid any further panic, Aubrey slowly rises from her bed and searches around for the light switch. After finally finding it, she clicks it on and immediately grimaces at the harsh, flickering, halogen light. Looking around the room, it’s more or less how she remembers it, albeit a bit worse for wear. 

“Oh! Hello Bunbun!” she coos, having spotted the familiar pen in front of her. Walking over to it, she leans in and strokes the fluffball, much to his chagrin. “You’re looking a little thinner than usual buddy,” Aubrey observes, frowning a little. “Thankfully, this is just a dream, right?” she nervously chuckles, only to be met with a vacant stare from the little rabbit. “Great, even you’re not buying that...” 

Sighing, she steps away from the pen and continues to look around. Most of her stuff is here, with a few exceptions and a couple of strange additions. Namely, the framed picture of herself and her classmate Kimberly. 

“Strange...” 

She doesn’t have much time to ponder on that thought though, as her eyes spy something propped against her bed. Upon closer inspection, it seems to be her trusty softball bat; she can only see the handle from her current position, so moving over to check it out, she immediately does the mother of all double takes upon seeing its full glory. 

“Holy shit!” she curses, picking up the weapon. And she means weapon, the thing is covered in nails, the sharp metal spikes crudely hammered into the wood to create a truly formidable sight. It’s intimidating, slightly alarming, and above all else, incredibly badass. 

She feels the weight of it in her hands and is almost tempted to give the thing a swing, before ultimately deciding against it. As cool as it is, it is also super dangerous—she could kill someone with this thing! Or just get arrested for even carrying it... 

‘I should probably leave you here then,’ she reasons to herself, propping the weapon back up against her bed frame. 

Resuming her search, she spies one last discrepancy. Basil’s photo album is sat there on her desk, with several photos having been removed from it pinned to the board above it. Confused, Aubrey looks over the separate photos and can’t help but smile a little at the sight; it’s been quite a while since she last looked through the older pages of the album.

‘God, we all look so young...’ 

Switching her focus to the main book, she flips it open and glances through the pages, her excitement shrinking and confusion growing with every turn, as she slowly starts to notice a pattern. The first few pages are all missing any pictures with Mari in them, and looking up at the board confirms those are indeed the missing polaroids, but it doesn’t answer why they were separate in the first place. She continues to flick through the pages absentmindedly until the album comes to an abrupt stop. Glancing around reveals no sign of any more missing photos, and upon closer inspection, there’s no text or annotations past this point either. The rest of the album is completely blank. 

‘But last I checked... it was nearly full.’ 

Basil was literally telling her yesterday about how he was going to get a new one soon because it was running out of space, so how on earth can it be so empty? 

‘Dream logic... has to be dream logic.’ 

But dreams are usually based on recent experiences, so what on earth is making her think of this place? Besides, hadn’t she already had a nightmare about this place earlier? And how is she so aware of her environment anyway? 

‘I guess this must be a VERY vivid dream.’ 

Feeling thoroughly unnerved, Aubrey decides she needs to get the hell out of this place. So, steeling her nerves and giving Bunbun a goodbye pat, she strolls over to the exit hatch, opens it up, and climbs down that same old rickety ladder. 

Downstairs is somehow worse than she remembers it being—it’s absolutely filthy and smells like death. Trash bags line the hall and empty cans litter the floor, bringing back a whole heap of unpleasant memories. Not wanting to linger here any longer, nor see that god-forsaken couch, she closes her eyes and makes a blind beeline for the front door, praying she remembers the room layout well enough to not trip herself up, when suddenly—

“The hell are you going?” a familiar voice slurs, causing the pinkette to freeze on the spot. 

“Out,” Aubrey impulsively and bluntly replies, only to immediately clasp her hands over her mouth. Feelings of immense regret and dread set in fast. 

“You need a stack of clothes to go out?”   

Her blood runs cold, she can’t force herself to move, as fear paralyses her, freezing her in place as her hands shake rapidly and involuntarily. But even if she could move, if she could muster the strength to take even a single step forward, she would still never turn and face that couch. She knows that voice, she knows who it belongs to, and she knows where this is going. The memory of that day is clear in her mind, and the nature of this nightmare is becoming similarly apparent. 

‘I’m reliving it again...’ 

Her mother lets out a hollow laugh, and Aubrey’s breath hitches, her panic rising with every passing second as her fight-or-flight instinct screams at her to move. She awaits the inevitable confrontation, the mockery, the yelling, the slap... 

She waits and waits, her hands shaking faster and faster with every haggard breath she takes. Aubrey feels like she’s drowning; her lungs are screaming for air, but the rest of her body is too stunned to assist them. She’s lightheaded and terrified—every second feels like an eternity. She waits and waits... but nothing happens. A second passes, then another and another, until she suddenly hears the sound of a can being picked up, followed by the sound of sloshing liquid and strained gulping. 

‘The hell are you standing there for?! Go! Now!' her subconscious screams, with the rest of her body finally cooperating, she staggers forward and takes several strained, deep breaths. ‘GO!’ 

Heading her own advice, she flings the front door open and sprints out into the street, her breathing still heavy and unstable, as she runs as fast as her legs will carry her. She sprints aimlessly for what feels like hours, with only one thought on her mind the entire time. 

‘My mom’s alive...’ 

Faraway is the same as ever, and that should be a small relief, but instead, it’s just unnerving. If her current situation somehow isn’t a horrific fever dream, then her mother has miraculously come back from the dead, her old house has been ‘restored’, and the rest of the world has simply just kept moving. Like nothing has changed... like her life doesn’t matter. 

Her uneasiness certainly isn’t helped by the fact that people keep giving her strange looks as she walks by. Obviously, she’s no stranger to the occasional glance—she has bright pink hair in small-town Americana for Christ’s sake! Judgy residents are an inevitability. But usually, the stares are few and far between, after all, she’s pretty well known around town, and the last time she checked, she has a fairly decent reputation... 

‘So why are so many people glaring at me?’ 

She’s trying her best to not have a full-on nervous breakdown, and all these stupid passersby really aren’t helping with that! Whatever, she just needs to get back to her home, her real home, and she’ll be able to figure things out from there. 

She’d wisely taken a few minutes to catch her breath on a random bench earlier, taking note of her surroundings and coming up with a very rough plan of action. The conclusion of her planning is that the Flower residence would likely be her best bet right now, largely because she has no idea where else to go. 

‘Polly will know what to do... probably.’ 

Walking a little further up the street, she spots her destination and— 

‘Eh?’ 

This is definitely the right place, but... well, the Flower residence is looking a bit less... floral than usual. The irony of that sentence isn’t lost on her, but neither are the implications. She has a sinking feeling she knows what’s going on here, but it’s so ridiculous she doesn’t even want to think about it, let alone consider it as a legitimate possibility. 

Taking a deep breath, she walks up to the front door, knocks three times, and waits. After a moment, Aubrey hears the sound of footsteps, and a second later, the front door opens to reveal a familiar figure. 

“Oh! Hello?” Polly greets, with a somewhat confused expression. “Can I help you?” 

‘Ouch.’ 

She didn’t even know it was possible for someone to so thoroughly shatter one’s spirits with barely four words. But hearing the closest thing you’ve had for a parental figure for the past few years treat you like a total stranger... yeah, that’ll do it. 

“You don’t recognise me?” Aubrey asks, trying her best to hold back a sob. 

The answer was obvious from Polly’s tone, but her baffled expression only serves to further hammer the point home. 

“I—I’m sorry, but I don’t,” the caretaker replies carefully, fully confirming her worst fears. “Have we met before?” 

‘Okay, Aubrey. Whatever you do next, do not freak the hell out!' 

Whether this is a nightmare or... a nightmare come to life, it doesn’t matter. All that matters now is her next step. There are only a couple of people in town who would believe what’s happening to her right now, those being Kel and—

‘Basil! Of course!’ 

Even if Polly doesn’t recognise her, she seems friendly enough, so if Aubrey plays her cards right, then she can probably get inside and talk to the flower boy about this mess. 

“I’m... Basil’s friend,” Aubrey says, still unnerved by the sheer lack of recognition in the caretaker’s expression. 

“Oh! Really?” Polly replies, seemingly (and strangely) confused by the suggestion. “You must be looking for him then!” she presumes correctly. 

“I—Yes! Yes, I am actually,” the pinkette replies, pleased by how smoothly this is going. “Do you know where he is?” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t,” she apologises.  

‘Ah... Silly me. How dare I try to be optimistic.’ 

“You just missed him, he left a few minutes ago...” Polly adds apologetically. “Maybe you could try looking for him at Fixit? Oh! Or maybe the park, I think he mentioned going there this morning,” she suggests. 

It’s a lead, not much of one admittedly, but it’s still something. 

“Okay, I’ll check there... thanks.” 

“No worries! Say, you should join us for dinner tonight! I always tend to cook too much...” the woman laughs awkwardly. “And I’m sure Basil would appreciate the company.” 

“That... that sounds nice,” Aubrey replies with a small smile, despite feeling incredibly bittersweet about the offer. “I’ll... see you later then?” she asks, hoping the true extent of her desperation isn’t obvious. 

“See you for dinner!” Polly beams. 

Mumbling a hasty goodbye, Aubrey quickly sets off down the road, the implications of that conversation rushing through her mind. 

‘Surely, this has to be a dream! A dream or... a prank! A very, very messed up and elaborate prank!’ she thinks, trying and failing to rationalise this mess to herself. ‘Oh, who am I kidding? This can’t be a prank, but surely it can’t be real... can it? ’ 

Her mom’s alive, and Polly doesn’t know her. That shouldn’t be possible... in her world anyway. Hastily and aggressively shaking the thought away, she continues walking aimlessly. 

‘I need to find Basil.’ He’s the missing piece; if she can find him, she’ll know for sure whether this is a dream or not. He’ll have the answers… he has to. 

And if it turns out this somehow isn’t some hyper-realistic nightmare, then she’ll just... improv, yeah! She’ll just fake it till she makes it! The park is her first stop, it’s not far from here, and she knows the route there like the back of her hand. If the blonde isn’t there, then she’ll check Fixit and— 

“Hey! Aubs!” a voice calls out, snapping Aubrey out of her thoughts. 

Turning to find the source, she’s greeted by a familiar girl wearing a blue hoodie and red glasses. 

“Kim?” she asks, somewhat surprised to see her classmate. 

They’ve shared maths class together for about four years now, but they never really talked much outside of that. Kim used to suggest hanging out more, but Aubrey was always busy, and besides, the wannabe delinquent could be a bit... much at times. Still, she shouldn’t be too surprised; she saw Kim in that photo of the two of them earlier, which didn’t make much sense at the time but is certainly starting to now. 

“Where have you been, girl? We were supposed to meet up an hour ago!” the girl says, looking the pinkette up and down as a confused expression spreads across her face. “Uhhh, you good?” 

“Kim!” Aubrey exclaims, relieved to see someone who actually recognises her. “Everything is wrong!” 

“Uhhh, no kidding,” Kim replies with a sour expression that screams ‘no shit’. Looking Aubrey up and down, the delinquent's confusion only seems to grow, as a small frown forms on her face. “Dude. What are you wearing?” 

“What?” 

“Don’t get me wrong!” she adds, raising her arms in defence. “You look good! I always liked the ponytail, and that hoodie is a classic! But you haven’t worn that thing in like... years! And where are your contacts? And your bat?! Jeez! You’re practically naked, Aubs!” 

“I wear this hoodie all the time...” Aubrey replies, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “Also, I uh, left the bat at home and—wait, contacts?” she quizzes. 

“Yeah, you haven’t got them in,” Kim confirms, having misinterpreted the pinkette’s confusion. “Also fair enough, honestly, I never got how you lug that thing around all the time, it weighs like a tonne!"

All Aubrey has are questions right now, and whilst her classmate’s words simply raise even more of them, they do manage to at least make a couple of things clearer. This drea— ...wherever she is, it’s obvious that she and Kim are close friends here, so it’s probably best if she goes along with whatever the delinquent has planned for the day. 

“Seriously though, you look exhausted,” Kim observes, a hint of concern apparent in her tone. “Are you alright?” 

“Kim, listen to me,” Aubrey starts. “This morning has been... insane! And I feel like I’m losing my God damn mind!” 

“Oh, so it’s one of those days,” the delinquent murmurs, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “I’m guessing your mom...” she trails off, a wary expression clear on her face. 

“I—yeah...” Aubrey replies. “Yeah, that’s it, home... home was stressful today.” 

Her ‘friend’ gives her a sympathetic stare, and Aubrey can’t help but wonder about the exact nature of their... relationship. Kim immediately knew something was up with her home, and she also didn’t seem shocked by the confirmation of that either. It took her years, and the apparent sudden death of her mother, for Aubrey to fully confide in her friends about her home life. Yet here, her classmate, someone she barely talks to these days, seems to completely understand her situation. Aubrey knows she wasn’t the most subtle about her messy living situation, but for Kim to know that... 

‘Just how close are we here?’ 

“Say less, sister. Tell ya what, let’s go meet the others, that’ll cheer you up!” the delinquent proposes with a mischievous grin. 

Aubrey doesn’t even know who the ‘others’ are in this scenario. But, lacking any other clear paths forward, she nods her head in agreement. 

“Y-Yeah,” she replies. “That sounds like a plan.” 

“That’s because it is, dummy,” Kim smirks. “Your plan, that you were late to.” 

“S-Sorry...” 

“You really are out of it today, aren’t you?” the girl thinks aloud. “I mean, you like you’ve seen a ghost!” she adds, laughing awkwardly. 

“Kim...” Aubrey begins, her voice wobbling slightly. “You have no idea.” 

“This feels like a fever dream,” Aubrey states, thinking aloud. 

“Women oft do feel like they’re dreaming when in the presence of—” Mikhael pauses to strike a stupid pose. “THE MAVERICK!” 

‘...God, I cannot imagine the Mikhael back home acting like this.' 

“Y’know, I just remembered something, I’ve got stuff to do. Over there. Far from you,” Kim deadpans, before walking off towards the park entrance. 

“That also tends to happen to women in your presence ey, Mav?” Vance laughs, earning a slight smile from Aubrey and a quiet chuckle from Charlene. 

Angel does not share their amusement and quickly leaps into the defence of Mikhael, causing a three-way argument to break out between the ‘master’, his ‘apprentice’, and Vance. With the lattermost barely contributing, seemingly just entertained by their antics. 

At first, Aubrey had assumed the ‘others’ might simply be her usual friend group, and that Kim had merely joined them at some point in the past of this drea—okay, no. This isn’t a dream; she can’t keep pretending that it is. As insane as it sounds, she’s seemingly wound up in another world, just like the titular character of SpaceBoy issue one-forty-nine. 

‘God, I hope I’m not the evil double...’ she thinks, recalling the comic’s plot. 

Anyway, the ‘others’ turned out to be her gang, the Hooligans... because apparently she runs a gang here. 

‘Well, that’s one point for me not being the evil copy.’ 

Her 'gang' consists of: Angel, Charlene, 'The Maverick', Kim, and her older brother Vance. They’re a strange bunch—very eccentric, especially, Mikhael, but they were also clearly concerned for her when she rocked up looking as pale as a ghost, and honestly, she's beyond grateful for their support. They’re all super weird, but their shenanigans undeniably have some charm to them, and if nothing else, they actually managed to help her unwind a little, and right now, that is all she really needs. This entire day so far has been one massive, prolonged panic attack, so it's nice to have a moment to just sit back, relax and catch her breath. So yeah, these guys are strange, but they're cool in her book... well, except for 'The Maverick', he's still a bit much for her liking. 

Lying down on the grass and tuning out the delinquent’s antics, Aubrey plucks a nearby daisy out from the grass and fiddles with it in her hand, seemingly catching Charlene’s attention. She goes to offer it to the shy behemoth, but a sudden yell interrupts her relaxation. 

“Sis?” Vance mumbles, glancing up at the pinkette with an expectant look. 

‘Guess that’s my cue then,’ she thinks, rising onto her feet. 'I hope they're not expecting me to fight someone...'

“What is going on over there?” Aubrey asks, genuinely baffled by all the commotion. Her companions seem equally confused, and even a bit alarmed, which certainly isn't helping her anxiety.  

Making her way over towards the park entrance with her ‘gang’ in tow, she almost immediately spots the source of the yelling. Kim has her back turned to someone, clearly not in the mood for whatever they’re saying, although her eyes widen with recognition and relief as the pinkette approaches. 

“Oh, hey Aubrey…” Kim lets on, seemingly a lot less enthusiastic than she was a whole twenty minutes ago. “This nerd Kel just showed up and thinks he can boss me around,” she adds, with a roll of her eyes. 

“Kel?” 

Following Kim’s gaze, Aubrey sees that, sure enough, Kel is standing there before them, tall and stupid-looking as ever. Honestly, she’s never been so happy to see the jolly giant in her life, but based on his expression, the feeling isn’t exactly mutual...  

And is there someone else standing behind him? 

“Stop messing with Basil!” the tan teen protests, seizing Aubrey’s attention, yet only furthering her bafflement. Looking to her right confirms Kel’s words, as Basil is also here, albeit in a pretty rough condition.  

He’s stood nearby, looking much thinner than when she last saw him. He practically radiates anxiety, and when he looks at her, it’s with an expression of pure dread... or at least it is at first. The longer he stares, the more confused he looks. 

‘I know the feeling,’ Aubrey thinks, sympathising with the blonde’s bafflement. 

She goes to say something, be it concern for the flower boy or a protest to Kel’s accusations, she doesn’t know, because the not-so-jolly giant continues his tirade before she can even mutter a syllable. 

“How could you? We all used to be friends, don’t you remember?” he shouts, undeterred by the increasingly uncomfortable atmosphere he’s creating. 

‘Wait, used to be?! The hell does he mean by that?! Screw you, Kel, you son of a—’ 

“Tell her, Sunny!” 

His words slice through the growing tension like a knife, as confusion takes centre stage, and all eyes in the park immediately turn to look at the figure standing behind Kel. The boy hovers in place awkwardly, cliff-faced as usual, but shorter than she was expecting, and a lot paler too... But most striking of all are his eyes. With a big emphasis on the plurality of that—eyes . He has both of them, with no scar to indicate he’d ever lost one in the first place.  

Part of her wants to write the boy off as a strange lookalike, but... his face, his hair, hell, even his freaking clothes! It can’t be, it doesn’t make any sense—But hey! What’s new there?! She hates to admit it, but it has to be— 

“Sunny?” 

Chapter Text

“Sunny?” 

The question lingers in the air for what feels like an eternity, further adding to the already tense atmosphere. There are only a dozen or so people in the park right now, and out of them, only a few are even a part of this little ‘reunion’. Yet despite that, it still feels like the eyes of the entire world are upon the two teens.  

Aubrey wants to write it off as anxiety, or just the inherent stress caused by the gravity of her situation finally dawning on her. But her companions seem to feel it too. Basil looks mortified, the Hooligans appear apprehensive, and even Kel, so boisterous and self-assured a mere minute earlier, now hovers in place awkwardly, an uncertain expression on his face. 

Then there’s Sunny, the boy, quite literally, in question. He’s as silent as the rest of them, yet rather ironically, his silence speaks volumes. The raven-haired teen has always been quiet; that’s just in his nature, but it’s immediately apparent to Aubrey that this is different, wrong even. This isn’t timidness, it’s... emptiness. He barely even seemed to process her words earlier; his expression is vacant, and his eyes look tired and weary. His lips form a straight line, yet despite looking so unemotive at a glance, upon closer inspection, he still manages to look... sad. 

Her heart aches more and more the longer she looks at him. She knows what Sunny is supposed to look like—she was literally at his place less than a day ago!  

Even ignoring the elephant in the room that is his magically restored right eye, this boy is too short, too thin, too pale, too... similar. Despite all the differences, he’s still oh so very similar to the boy she knows and loves. So, as much as she hates to admit it— 

“It really is you...” Aubrey mumbles. “What—what happened to you?” she asks, her voice cracking slightly. “You look... terrible.” 

“Hey!” a voice protests, shattering the oppressive quiet. “Don’t be mean to him!” 

Clenching her fists, Aubrey turns to face Kel. His brief spout of nervousness has evidently passed, as he now wears an indignant and offended expression. 

“I wasn’t insulting him!” she counters, glaring at the self-righteous idiot. “Kel, he does not look okay! Surely you can—” 

“That is insulting!” he immediately retorts. 

“IT’S AN OBSERVATION!” she yells back, struggling to contain her growing fury. “Why does he... Kel. What. Happened. Did you do this?!” 

“No! Of course not! What are you even say—” 

“Then why does he look like that?!” 

The confusion and anger in Kel’s expression only intensifies with her every word. But she imagines that must apply to herself too, as she can faintly feel her nails digging into her palms, due to how firmly clenched her fists are. Her hands are shaking with rage, yet despite the pain, she can’t force herself to relax. Today has been incredibly stressful, and Kel is pushing all the wrong buttons right now. 

“Aubrey, he’s just come out—” 

“Oh, good for him!” The Maverick beams, his sudden interjection instantly deflating the growing tension, with all the grace of popping a water balloon in the middle of a funeral. 

Slowly, all eyes turn to focus on Mikhael, who nervously cowers under their collective gaze. 

“...Mav, I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Vance facepalms. 

“O-Oh... my bad,” he apologises, in a rare display of humility. “Please, carry on.” 

‘...What the hell.’ 

Looking back towards Kel, Aubrey sees that he is similarly stumped by Mikhael’s comment. He stands there, with a dumbfounded expression, his mouth gaping, as he tries for several seconds to find the right words. 

“At least he’s supportive,” he eventually suggests with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I—yeah, I guess that’s true,” the pinkette agrees, still absolutely lost on where to take this conversation next, but slightly relieved to hear her strange companion isn’t a total jackass. “But... what did you mean by that?” she eventually asks. 

“Eh?” 

“Sunny... coming out? What did you mean?” 

The tan teen turns to glance at his silent companion, before looking back at her with a strange expression. 

“He left his house?” Kel replies, his eyebrows furrowing as she only replies with silence and visible confusion. “Dude... you’re kidding, right?” 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” she snarls in response. 

“Well, it’s just... kind of a big deal...” he mumbles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Y’know, considering it’s been like... years since anyone’s seen him.” 

‘What.’ 

“Years?!” she exclaims, absolutely horrified by his words. 

“Uh, yeah?”  

“So he’s just been—what? Sat inside his house for years?” 

That doesn’t sound at all like the Sunny she knows at all! For as reserved and introverted as he can be, he isn’t the type to just up and leave them all like that. Besides... 

‘He hates being alone...’ 

Still, she can’t deny that Kel’s explanation does answer a lot of questions: his complexion, his weight, his size, his eye—well, no, it doesn’t answer that one, but overall, it does make sense... kind of. She just can’t think of anything that could possibly make Sunny isolate himself from the rest of the world. But at the same time, the evidence is pretty damning.

Besides, she’s a stranger in this world and Kel probably knows what he’s talking about. 

‘Years though... surely that must be an exaggeration? ’ 

“Hey! You don’t know what he’s been through!” Kel replies defensively, his misplaced anger only serving to further stir her own. 

“You’re right, Kel! I don’t! I have absolutely no idea what’s going on!” Aubrey retorts, intent on finally clarifying things with her ‘friends’. “I just woke up and—and everything is just wrong, man! I don’t know what’s up with Sunny, or what you want or—” 

“I want you to stop picking on Basil!” the tan moron interjects, causing Aubrey’s eye to twitch in rage. 

“Do I look like I’m picking on him?!” she counters, gesturing to the flower boy. “Basil, you feeling especially picked on right now?” 

The blonde in question is still standing in place, seemingly hesitant to engage in... whatever this conversation is. He warily glances around at the delinquents surrounding him before addressing Aubrey with a shaky smile. 

“Uh... n-no?” he replies nervously. 

“Bas, y’know you could help me out here by not phrasing that like a question,” she deadpans. 

“S-Sorry, I’m just more... c-confused, than anything,” Basil adds, stuttering slightly. 

‘Welcome to the club, buddy.’ 

“B-But I was just wondering... if I could get my a-album back?” he hesitantly asks, seemingly lowering his guard just enough to try negotiating with her. 

‘ Oh, that’s why that thing was in my room. ’ 

That fun little fact only raises even more questions, but she’ll just have to cross that bridge later. Clearly, whatever bad blood there is between the two of them is due to ‘her’ taking his album at some point in the past. So simply giving it back should hopefully de-escalate things, or at least promising to do so anyway, considering she doesn’t actually have it on her right now. 

“Sure, I don’t see why no-” 

“You stole his photo album?!” Kel interrupts once again. 

“Apparently!” Aubrey yells back, already past the point of exasperation. “I don’t remember doing that, but clearly I don’t remember doing a lot of stuff right now!” 

“You... d-don't?” Basil murmurs under his breath. 

“Give it back to him!” the tan teen demands with a surprisingly stern frown. 

“I don’t have it on me dumbass! I was literally just—” 

“Like I’m gonna believe tha—” 

“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” Aubrey roars, finally at her wit's end. 

Kel takes a step back at her sudden outburst, as does Basil, who looks at her with wide, worried eyes. By contrast, the Hooligans are largely unfazed, with the exception of Kim, who gives her a small, mischievous smile. Sunny remains as cliff-faced as usual, yet in a strange way Aubrey appreciates his reaction the most. 

“I’ve been trying to explain to you this entire time that I don’t know what’s happening! And you just keep butting in and assuming the worst of me!” she complains, staring down Kel as her anger simmers; she really did hope he would understand her plight, but she supposes that’s on her for being optimistic. “You say all this crap about how we used to be friends and I just—what hell am I supposed to make of that?!” 

“I—” 

“If you gave me literally five seconds, I could just explain everything!” she continues, her rage intensifying again as she reflects more on her situation. “I’ve had a terrible day, and then you just barge in, no sympathy whatsoever, and start talking about and demanding things I know literally nothing about!” 

“Hey! You guys bully Basil all the time!” Kel protests gesturing to the Hooligans behind her. “Don’t pretend like you don’t!” 

‘ The hell is he talking about? ’ 

“Oh my God! Are you deaf?!” she yells back, her anger outweighing her confusion. “I have no idea what’s going on Kel! I just woke up and everything’s gone to hell! But hey! At least there’s one consistency! Across every universe, Kelsey Rodriguez is the world’s biggest dumbass!” she rants, her tirade intensifying with every word. 

“Hey! That’s not—wait, what do you mean by—” 

“Just shut up! ...And let me talk,” she interrupts, trying and failing to calm down as she takes a few deep breaths. “I swear, sometimes you’re just absolutely useless Kel.” 

Sighing and shaking her head, Aubrey takes a second to compose herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she eventually looks back over at Kel, only to immediately notice his stunned expression. His face looks almost as vacant as Sunny’s, but there’s a clear underlying anger in his eyes. 

‘ Was it something I said? ’ 

He looks really upset, which is... unnervingly uncharacteristic. It’s kind of like looking at a kicked puppy, she can’t help but feel a little bad. Besides, even if he was being presumptuous, she might have gone a bit too hard on him. 

“Look dude, I’m sorry but today has been—” 

She doesn’t even have enough time to finish her sentence before he suddenly lunges forward, flinging his basketball out in her direction. Narrowly dodging the hurtling projectile, she watches in awe as the ball soars past her and collides full force with the Maverick, hitting right in the face and causing him to collapse down onto the grass. 

“Master!” Angel cries, rushing over to his friend’s side. 

“What the—you freaking prick!” she exclaims, glaring at the tan teen. 

Kel looks as shocked as she is and quickly starts mumbling some rushed apologies. Sadly, these fall on deaf ears, as Aubrey is absolutely done with his antics now. Blinded by anger, she marches forward, determined to make this prick listen, even if that means literally beating some sense into him. 

“W-Wait!” Basil protests, dashing over and positioning himself between the two of them. “There’s n-no need to—” 

“Watch it freak,” Kim snarls, intercepting the blonde and shoving him out of the way, sending him tumbling down onto the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Kim?!”  

“Hey!”  

Aubrey and Kel simultaneously protest, the former scowling at the offending delinquent as she offers her hand to the nervous flower boy. Basil hesitantly takes it and slowly rises back onto his feet, all the while staring at her with a mixture of awe, fear, and confusion. 

“What?” the delinquent cries with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you hated this weirdo,” she adds. 

“I—” Aubrey stutters, unsure of what to say. 

Once again, Kim’s words simultaneously answer a lot of, yet also continue to raise more questions. If she truly hates Basil in this world, then that would explain Kel’s accusations, and also why Basil seems so scared of her, but... 

‘ Why would I ever hate him? ’ 

He was her first and oldest friend; they’re practically family where she’s from! So, what could have possibly degraded their friendship to the point it is here? 

‘ This doesn’t make any sense... ’ 

“Just drop the act already!” Kel yells, grabbing her attention once more. “I know what you’re doing! And we’re putting a stop to it! Come on Sunny!” Doubling down on his misplaced anger, raising his fists, and taking a step forward, Kel is followed closely by a clearly confused yet still blank-faced Sunny. 

“You’re... you’re siding with him?” she stutters, her heart-shattering at the sight of two of her closest companions taking arms against her. 

“I like the ponytail.”   

“You said that about the braids too.”  

“...I like you.”  

Clenching her fists so tight she can feel blood pool in her palms, Aubrey glares at the two teens, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Some of the only people in the world she trusts wholeheartedly now stand before her as foes. Once, they promised her they’d understand, that they’d never leave her, that they were still friends despite all the bickering, that they’d always be there for each other...  

And even though she knows these aren’t the versions of her friends that made those promises, it still stings to see them treat her like this. 

‘ I don’t deserve this! This isn’t what you think it is! JUST LET ME EXPLAIN! ’ she thinks, her thoughts overlapping, racing around in her head, and pounding against her skull as her breathing hitches. 

“Fine!” she yells instead, her tears flowing freely as blood trickles down her hands, staining the grass below red. “This is how you want to play?! Then bring it on!” 

They say actions speak louder than words, so she’ll make them listen to her, even if it hurts like hell. 

“Aubs?” Kim hesitantly calls out, slowly approaching her. “You’re... crying. Are you okay?” 

“Kim. Keep an eye on Basil,” she replies, never taking her eyes off the two boys in front of her. “I’ve got this.”  

She doesn’t want to hurt them, but clearly, violence is the only language Kel will listen to. She will need to keep some distance from Sunny though, he looks like a light breeze could take him out, and she doesn’t want him getting hurt.  

Kel on the other hand? Well, she’s sure he can take a few hits. 

“Come on Sunny,” the jersey-wearing-giant beckons, hesitantly approaching her, with shaky hands that betray his true feelings. 

Three teens stare each other down, their fists are raised, and tensions are high. Aubrey waits for Kel to make the first move, planning on instantly countering him and ending this fight before it can even start.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity Kel goes to step forward and Aubrey prepares to sweep his feet, only for Sunny to suddenly reach into his pocket and pull out a— 

“Woah!” Aubrey exclaims, quickly taking a large step back. “IS THAT A KNIFE?!” 

Sure enough, Sunny stands there, kitchen knife in hand, seemingly confused by the mortified expressions of everyone present. 

“Holy shi—short, dark, and silent isn’t messing around!” Kim proclaims, giving Aubrey a worried look. “Aubs I think we should go,” she suggests, her voice thick with concern. 

“Why does he have that?!” the pinkette yells, ignoring her companion's advice. 

“I-I don’t know,” Kel stutters. “Give me that!” he demands, seemingly having finally realised just how bad this situation is. Grabbing the knife out of Sunny’s hands, the orange oaf quickly pockets it, before giving the quiet boy a disappointed and slightly alarmed look. 

“Heyyy buddy... why do you have a knife on you?” he asks cautiously, trying and failing to hide his concern. 

Sunny, in the most expressive move Aubrey’s seen him make all morning, mimes a boxing gesture, with a hint of confusion in his expression and a barely noticeable frown tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“For fighting?” Kel guesses, receiving a small nod from Sunny in response. “Dude... that’s not how—” 

“You fight with your hands, not a kitchen knife you mute psycho!” Kim exclaims, much to Aubrey’s ire. 

“Kim!” 

“ What?! He was going to stab you dude!” 

Aubrey wants to protest, but Kim’s words cause her to pause. She really can’t argue against that, she knows in her heart Sunny would never hurt her... but this is a different world, and his intentions were pretty clear. That wasn’t a messed-up intimidation technique, he genuinely thought that would be an okay way to fight. Obviously, he’s completely out of it but... he was still going to hurt her. 

‘ Just like everyone who claims to love you .’ 

“I... I don’t want to fight anymore,” Kel mumbles, snapping her out of her spiralling. 

“Then can we just talk instead?” Aubrey begs. “Please...” 

“...Okay,” he relents after a brief pause. 

“Finally! Kim watch over Basil and Sunny. Kel you’re coming with me,” she orders, taking full advantage of her position as leader of a ‘gang’, to try and de-escalate this mess as fast as possible. 

“Hey, wait a minute! I don’t wanna watch them! What if he’s got another knife?!” Kim protests, gesturing frantically in Sunny’s direction. 

“Yo Sunny, do you have another knife on you?” Kel asks, with what is probably way too much nonchalance considering the subject matter. 

The pale boy pauses, pats his shorts down, and then empties his pockets, before finally shaking his head in response. Aubrey is concerned that he even needed to check in the first place, but the confirmation he’s unarmed does manage to somewhat reassure her companion. 

“Fine!” Kim relents. “But... be careful, okay?” 

Kim’s worried about her, that much is clear. Whilst Aubrey has never quite seen eye to eye with her classmate, and the way she’s been treating Basil today isn’t exactly helping with that fact, she can tell Kim’s concern is genuine, and that means a lot to her. Whatever their relationship is here, she’s relieved to know that at least someone in this world will always have her back. Even if she wouldn’t have been her first pick. 

“I will be,” she promises, before turning her attention back to Kel. “Alright then. Let’s talk.” 

They end up taking a seat on a nearby bench, and despite it being so cramped that they’re basically shoulder to shoulder, it still feels like they’re miles apart.  

Aubrey silently reflects on the events of the past couple of hours and as she does so, she can’t help but start to feel like a bit of a jackass. As with the benefit of hindsight, she can see now that if she had just kept her composure, then this whole mess could have been sorted in under a minute. But Kel just had to keep pushing her... and... 

She clenches her fist and takes another deep breath, wincing slightly at the sight of her bloodied palms. If nothing else, their near-fight has at least given her a clearer picture of what exactly is going on here, even if it is a very messed up picture. 

By some cosmic mishap, divine intervention, or maybe just random chance, she’s wound up in another universe.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but it’s the only explanation that makes any sense. 

This world is similar to her own in some ways, but also very different in others. Here, she runs a gang of eccentric weirdos, apparently hates Basil enough to rob and bully him, has a less-than-stellar relationship with Kel, and hasn’t seen Sunny in years. 

It’s certainly a lot to unpack, especially that last point, that's the part that stumps her the most, purely because it seems so... unrelated. If this universe’s version of her (for whatever reason) grew to hate Basil and thus decided to bully him, then obviously Kel would take objection, which in turn would spiral into the strained ‘friendship’ Aubrey’s living through now. It’s a somewhat messy narrative, but she could still see something like that happening under the right circumstances. What she doesn’t get though, is where Sunny fits into all that.  

He’s apparently a shut-in, having only just left his house today for the first time in years. So does that mean he’s had no part in any of this? Did he really just abandon all his friends like that? Abandon her? Did him leaving start the her counterpart down this path? Were they ever even a thing in this universe?  AND WHY DOES HE HAVE BOTH EYES?! 

‘ Too many questions, not enough answers. ’ 

Mari and Hero’s absence from this story certainly hasn’t escaped her notice either and that’s another thing she finds especially strange. As Aubrey is certain there’s no reality where those two would ever allow things to get this bad. If nothing else, then surely Mari would have intervened with Sunny’s isolation... right? 

‘ And yet, she didn’t... why?'  

“It’s... been a while,” Kel suddenly murmurs, idly kicking his legs back and forth. “I can’t even remember the last time we weren’t arguing.” 

It’s kind of funny that he says that, considering their entire friendship was built on bickering; for as long as she’s known him, the grinning Orange Joe addict has been determined to get on her nerves. A goal he was always very good at reaching. Not to say that she was much better mind you, it does take two to tango and she never liked letting him win.  

Looking back, they must have been a real nightmare for their friends, as it wasn’t uncommon for them to spend entire days arguing with each other. But thankfully, their bickering was rarely ever that serious, so, when all was said and done, they could both find comfort in the fact it was all in good spirits. Although in this world that clearly hasn’t been the case in a very long time.

“It’s kinda nice,” he continues. “Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” she mumbles in response. “I guess it is."

Silence falls over the pair again and so Aubrey attempts to break the growing tension with a joke. 

“Hope you’re not planning on flinging another basketball at me,” she jests. “Pretty sure Mikhael's still out cold, dude.” 

“Sorry about that... you just—” Kel trails off, suddenly looking uncomfortable he glances off into the woods, frowning slightly. “Hit a nerve.” 

‘ Yikes, I probably shouldn’t have said that .’ 

“Yeah well...” Aubrey replies, reflecting on their earlier argument. “So did you.” 

He looks at her with a confused expression, silently demanding an explanation. Sighing, she complies, deciding to finally let her guard down a bit.  

“You said we used to be friends,” she mumbles, twiddling with a stray strand of her hair. “I know we argue a lot... but I never thought we stopped being friends.” 

She knows things went differently here, but she just needed to get that off her chest. She had to try and find that reassurance, that confirmation that they are still friends, even if this isn’t actually the Kel she knows. She just needs one thing here to make sense.

“You made it pretty clear last time we spoke,” he replies cryptically, refusing to meet her eyes. “But... you’re being serious, aren’t you?” he asks after a brief pause. 

“Hm?” 

“You... you really don’t remember...” he mumbles, an unreadable expression on his face. “Did you hit your head or something?” 

‘ I feel like I did, ’ she thinks to herself, chuckling a little at his comment. It’s a tired and weary laugh, but it’s earnest, and she’s pretty sure Kel can tell that much. 

“Not... exactly,” she eventually replies, struggling to find the right words to describe her predicament. “Say, what’s the weirdest thing you’re willing to believe?” she asks, deciding to gently ease him into the insanity that has been her life for the past twenty-four hours. 

“Oh! This is gonna be something really crazy sounding, isn’t it?” Kel correctly presumes, his trademark smile finally restored to its full glory. “Mind if I take a guess?” 

“Uhhh, sure?” she replies, with a shrug of her shoulders. 

It will forever amaze her how fast this man can turn on a dime. His optimism is as admirable as it is obnoxious, but this sudden change in mood has really caught her off guard. 

'Whatever, the odds of him guessing correctly are like a million to one.'

“You’re...” he starts, his fingers pressed together, and face locked in deep contemplation. “From another universe!”

“HOW THE HELL DID YOU—” 

“Nah, just kidding! That’d be—” 

Two voices overlap at once, and the stunned silence that follows is suffocating. Kel’s eyes widen with shock and excitement, whilst Aubrey simply stares at the grass below, silently praying for the Earth to swallow her whole. 

“Wait, seriously? You’re kidding me right?!” he asks, his excitement only growing, as he interprets her stunned silence as confirmation. “You’re really from another universe?! That’s so cool!” he proclaims, practically leaping off his spot on the bench. 

“Stop yelling, idiot!” she hisses in response. Following suit and rising from her own seat, she goes to continue but pauses for a moment, considering her next words carefully. “But... yes, I am, and before you ask, I have no idea how I got here. I just woke up in my old house and... yeah,” she concludes, lamely. 

“Woah...” Kel mumbles, clearly awestruck. “That actually explains a lot haha! The other you is a total jerk and... wait. Where is she then?” he asks, a twinge of concern underlying his question. 

Ah, there’s her reassurance. It’s that slight look of worry in Kel’s eyes that tells her everything she needs to know. Evidently, despite all the resentment and bad blood between her counterpart and himself, he’s still worried about her. It's... well, it’s honestly kind of heart-warming, if she ignores most of the surrounding context anyway. 

“I-I don’t know... sorry,” she apologises earnestly.  

Truthfully, she hadn’t really even thought about her counterpart’s fate until now. She’s still wearing the hoodie and jeans she fell asleep in, meaning this isn’t a body swap or something like that, which would imply that the other her must be out there somewhere. Aubrey just doesn’t know where exactly. 

'The fact I even had to consider a body swap as a legitimate possibility... God, how did my life get to this point?'

“It’s cool,” Kel replies nonchalantly, before slowly frowning as the seconds pass by. “Well, no. It isn’t, but that’s not your fault,” he adds awkwardly. 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” she states, not even trying to hide her surprise. 

“Yeah, well, I kinda feel like a bit of a jerk now,” he replies, an embarrassed look clear on his face. “I thought you were her and... yeah, sorry dude.” 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t much better,” she admits with a shrug. 

“I’m guessing we’re still friends where you’re from.” 

“Yeah, we are.” 

“That’s... nice. Y’know, I really did miss—n-never mind...” Kel trails off again with a sad smile.  

“Kel, I’m—” 

“So!” he suddenly yells, his toothy grin already restored again. “Welcome to Earth! I’m Kelsey Rodriguez!” 

“I—dude, you don’t have to talk about me like I’m an alien!” Aubrey replies, shaking her head in disbelief, but still chuckling a little under her breath. “...Aubergine Williams,” she adds after a second, properly introducing herself whilst also mentally cringing at her full name. 

“Hmmm... I think I’ll just call you Aubs,” he says, a familiar toothy grin plastered across his face. “Nice to meet ya!” he beams, offering her his hand. 

She can’t help but smile at the gesture. His positivity really is infectious. 

“I’d appreciate that,” she replies, grabbing his hand and shaking it. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“So... can I ask you like a million questions?” he immediately asks, his face glowing with barely constrained excitement. 

“Sure, but only if I can do the same. You’re not the one stranded in another universe, y’know!” 

The two teens laugh, and for the first time today, Aubrey feels like everything might just be alright after all. Sure, her circumstances aren’t ideal, but it looks like her counterpart hasn’t completely ruined all her friendships, so she can probably salvage something out of all this, or at the bare minimum, bide her time until she can get back home. 

“So—” Kel begins. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s the other me like?” 

“I—” Aubrey pauses. 

How can she describe Kel?  

At the surface level, he’s the exact same as the boy standing before her, a big smiling idiot, as annoying as he is endearing. But looking deeper... this Kel seems less genuine than the one she’s familiar with.  

There’s a constant tug on this Kel’s smile, and his words seem to carry a weight absent from those of the boy she knows. It’s rather obvious that he’s been through something that her Kel hasn’t, and as a result, it almost feels like he’s trying to masquerade as the boy he used to be. 

“I mean, you’re basically the exact same,” she eventually replies. “The Kel I know usually wears a white jersey, but otherwise you’re both pretty similar,” she continues, hesitant to note the only real clear difference between the two. “He’s a bit less... sad though,” she mumbles. 

“What do you mean?” Kel replies, sounding genuinely puzzled and maybe even a little hurt by her question. 

“You have this weird... look to you, that my Kel doesn’t,” she tries to explain, constantly tripping over her words as her embarrassment grows with every passing second. “You just look... sadder, more tired—I swear I’m not trying to be a jerk! You just—” she panics, attempting to apologise for her poor choice of words. 

“It’s fine,” Kel interrupts, his smile faltering slightly as he continues to speak. “It’s... been a tough few years,” he confesses with a nervous laugh. 

That much she had already guessed. It’s very apparent that there’s something horribly wrong with this world, and whilst she doesn’t know what exactly, she can tell it runs deep. It’s corrupted Kel, Sunny, Basil—hell, even herself by the sounds of it. But that just brings everything back to her original question. 

‘ What happened here? ’ 

Now is probably her best chance to ask him. Even if she is slowly starting to dread the answer, she has to see this through, she has to know the truth.  

“Yeah, I—I've been meaning to ask—” Aubrey starts, hesitating for a moment. “What... what happened here? We’re not friends, but Kim’s apparently my bestie, Sunny’s a shut-in, Basil’s terrified of me, I run a gang, my house is back, and my freaking Mom’s alive!” she shudders slightly at that last fact before continuing. “So, how did this happen? I just—I don’t understand...” 

Listing off all the differences aloud, Aubrey realises just how insane she must sound, but that’s just the twisted reality she’s living through right now. Even Kel seems surprised by some of the discrepancies she just listed. 

“Well... I guess it all started a few years ago,” Kel mumbles, with a distant look in his eyes. “About four now I think.” 

Just like that, it clicks for Aubrey, he doesn’t even need to say anymore, that timeframe speaks for itself. The day that changed the lives of herself and her friends back home has seemingly done the same here, albeit to a much greater extent. 

“The recital...” she murmurs. 

For most of this conversation, she had been working under the assumption that the accident simply never happened in this reality, hence Sunny’s eye remaining intact. But she can see the recognition in her friend’s expression, meaning that the accident likely happened in this world too. That certainly answers some lingering questions, but it also makes Sunny’s condition even more of an enigma, which is rather frustrating. 

‘Maybe they never fell but Sunny still broke the violin,’ she ponders to herself. ‘Mari would be furious, and I can’t imagine I’d be too thrilled either... But no, Mari would never care THAT much about the recital. Certainly not enough to leave her little brother to rot in his room.’  

She’d like to think that logic applied to herself too, but after everything she’s learnt about her counterpart today... well, now she’s not so certain. 

“Oh! That happened to you too...” the tan teen murmurs, sounding almost... disappointed. “You seemed so chill, so I kinda assumed she hadn’t... jeez, I’m really sorry, Aubs.” 

‘The hell is he implying there? ’ she wonders, suddenly feeling very uneasy. Aubrey briefly considers backing out of this conversation, but the allure of answers keeps her going. Besides, she has a good inkling as to who exactly he’s talking about, and that both intrigues and terrifies her in equal measure.  

“It’s... fine?” she replies, still somewhat confused by Kel’s sudden display of pity. “You—You're talking about Mari, aren’t you?” 

The tall boy’s sudden flinch at the mention of her name does not escape Aubrey’s notice. It was brief, but he looked pained, like hearing Mari’s name alone brought back a tidal wave of unpleasant memories. 

“Yeah... I can’t believe it’s been so long already,” he mumbles somberly. “I still miss her, y’know.” 

His words cause her to pause, as once again her perception of this world is shattered. He sounds solemn and mournful, but that doesn’t make any sense. It seems to be Summer here, so Mari should just be away at university with Hero... right? 

“But... won’t she be getting back from college soon?” she points out. “It’s Summer break, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

The look on Kel’s face is nothing short of abject horror; it’s the palest she’s ever seen him, and for a brief moment, she worries he might be about to faint. Instead, he slowly lowers himself back down onto the bench again and then promptly buries his head in his hands. 

“Kel?” 

“Aubrey are—are you saying in your world she’s—she’s not...” he goes to ask, before trailing off once more. His lips are trembling, and his eyes are downcast, but eventually, he manages to speak up again. “O-Oh boy,” he mumbles, before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to look her in the eyes. With a nervous expression and a poor attempt at a reassuring smile, he finally addresses her.  

“You uh... might wanna take a seat for this.” 

It’s a familiar story: there was going to be a recital, the culmination of months of excitement, anticipation, and hard work. The day came, and everything started off perfectly normal. They all spent most of it making themselves presentable for the spectacle they were sure to witness, until the time finally came... and there was no word from the Suzuki’s. 

His tale lines up so eerily well with the day she lived through, that when the story suddenly takes a turn for the worst, Aubrey feels certain she knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, the screaming, the crying, the blaring of sirens, the all-consuming storm of confusion, panic, and dread, yes, that’s all the same. But it’s the reason why that has changed.  

In this world, Mari wasn’t found injured and teary-eyed, slumped over her brother’s broken body, screaming bloody murder whilst crying out for an ambulance. No, instead she was found in her backyard...  

Hanging from a tree. 

Aubrey had waited a painfully long time for a punchline after that reveal, expecting, praying even, that it was just another sick joke from Kel, a misplaced yet characteristically tone-deaf attempt at humour. But naturally, the punchline never came. Kel was telling the truth, and just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse— 

“Sunny and Basil... they were the ones who found her...” he said.  

The rest of his story was a blur from there, as four years of pain were summarised into a few short sentences. Sunny disappeared into his house not long after the funeral, isolating himself from the rest of the world, whilst Basil devolved into a nervous mess, and she became bitter and angry towards those she once considered friends. Kel neglected to mention himself and his brother in his recollections, but Aubrey didn’t have the energy to call him out on that. She has enough to think about as is. 

Eventually, Kel stopped talking, and what felt like an endless horror story finally came to a close.

Mari has been dead for four years, Hero gets back home from college tomorrow, Sunny has finally re-emerged from his self-imposed isolation and will be leaving Faraway in three days' time, and Aubrey has been dropped right into the middle of all this. 

Needless to say, it’s a lot to process, and so, for quite a while, neither teen says a word, simply allowing the silence to speak for itself. The quiet lasts for what feels like an eternity until Aubrey finally musters the willpower to speak up again. 

“No...” she mumbles. “No, that—that doesn’t make sense!” she protests. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Kel apologises, refusing to meet her eyes. “But that’s what happened.” 

“No, I mean that literally doesn’t make sense!” she insists. “Sunny has both of his eyes! That has to mean—” 

“What?” 

‘Oh, right, he doesn’t know.’ 

“I... It’s a long story,” Aubrey sighs. “But an important one.” 

She’d really rather not have this conversation right now, but the curiosity on her friend’s face is as clear as day. Besides, it’s not really fair that he should relive all those painful memories to help her out when she won’t return the favour. 

“...I’ve got time,” Kel shrugs. “And... I have so many questions.” 

“I—alright then. But I think you already know where this starts,” she laughs joylessly. 

And so, with great reluctance, she tells him a story of her own. A story that starts off much like his but quickly takes a turn. She tells him of an argument, of a fall, of broken bones and bleeding eyes, and whilst she skims over a lot of the finer details, she makes sure he understands what caused all this: the endless practices and dwindling patience.  

Aubrey’s certain her own frustrations must leak into her tale, as even after all these years, she still can’t believe those two idiots nearly got each other killed over a recital of all things. Obviously, it was a messy, complicated affair, but that fact doesn’t help quell the bitterness she feels whenever that day comes up. Especially now that she knows just how badly it could have gone. 

“Wow, that’s... a lot,” Kel states, once she’s finally finished her recollection. 

“Welcome to the club,” she deadpans. 

“So do you think... Mari might’ve... because of...” he murmurs, a pained look plastered across his face as he struggles to find the right words. “We always figured it was stress...” 

“No,” Aubrey states, with so much confidence that it visibly shocks her companion. “No, if she didn’t after the accident then...” 

It doesn’t make any sense; the two Suzuki's were stressed beyond belief! The accident was just their breaking point, a bloody, tragic end to months of growing tension. But that couldn't have happened here, otherwise Sunny wouldn’t have both of his eyes. 

‘If he was injured, then it would all make a bit more sense. Mari did take a lot of the blame for the accident; she tried for months to pin it solely on herself.'  

Her friend was in a really rough place after they were discharged from the hospital. So if she was ever going to... leave, then Aubrey is certain she would have done it back then... but she didn’t. 

‘So then why did she do it here? ’ 

It’s always possible that the stress just kept building and building, and without the fight on the stairs to release that tension, it just became too much to bear. But that doesn’t sit right with Aubrey. That fight was not a good thing; it didn’t resolve anything between the two siblings. If anything, it continues to sour their relationship to this very day. So, acknowledging the accident as a net positive in the grand scheme of things... just feels wrong. 

“This doesn’t make sense...” she repeats, shaking her head in despair. 

“Hey,” Kel replies, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know this is all... super messed up. But it’s not all bad, you kno—” 

“HOW THE HELL IS THIS NOT ALL BAD?!” she roars, shoving his hand away and rising up onto her feet. 

The regret hits her hard and fast as she watches him flinch at her sudden outburst, his smile wavering as he tries to stay composed. 

‘He’s trying to be positive for your sake, not his own. Stop being a prick.’ 

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologises sheepishly. “I just... don’t see how this could possibly be anything but an absolute nightmare.” 

Kel rises from his seat and looks her in the eyes, trying to look as reassuring as possible. A hollow gesture, but one Aubrey still appreciates.  

“Well, Sunny’s leaving soon,” he explains with a sad expression. “And I wanted to make his last couple of days here the best they can be, and you—the other you, isn’t very... nice,” he continues. “So, since you’re here, I thought you might want to y’know... tag along with us maybe? We can all hang out together, it’d be just like old times!” 

‘Oh yeah... Sunny’s leaving.’ 

Aubrey doesn’t quite know how to feel about that, and although a part of her just wants to take a minute, catch her breath, and unpack everything she’s just heard, she knows deep down she doesn’t really have the time to sit around and ponder all these mysteries. Besides, Kel’s right, if Sunny is going to be leaving soon, then he should be allowed to enjoy his time here. Aubrey is sure her counterpart would disagree, but she still cares about him... even if he’s not the boy she knows. 

‘And even though he tried to stab you?'  

“I...” she hesitates, internally weighing up her options. “Yeah, okay, that sounds like a plan.” 

“Awesome!” Kel beams. “Let’s not keep the others waiting then!” he adds, wasting no time as he rushes off towards his friends. 

Still reeling from all the information she’s learnt today, she wearily follows after him, already exhausted, but still determined to try and enjoy this, for her boyfr—for Sunny’s sake, if nothing else. 

First, she just needs to settle a multi-year conflict between her friends and the gang she apparently runs, convincing them to leave Basil alone, give Kel some slack, and not beat the crap out of the guy who pulled a knife on her. All whilst praying that none of them see through the paper-thin, poor imitation she’s doing of their actual leader.  

How hard can all that possibly be? 

“A truce?” Kim asks, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Eh... alright then.” She shrugs after barely a second of thought, seemingly nonchalant about the whole situation. 

‘Huh, I guess not that hard after all.’ 

“Wait, really?” Kel asks, not even trying to mask his scepticism. “Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Kim replies, turning to look at Aubrey. “Not sure what’s going on here, but this was never my axe to grind anyway,” she adds, before frowning slightly and walking up to her. “But... are you sure about this Aubs?” she whispers, revealing her true feelings on the matter. 

Once again, there’s this clear vulnerability and care in Kim’s tone. The delinquent puts on a tough façade, but she clearly cares about Aubrey’s counterpart, so even if the pinkette has her reservations about the girl, she can’t help but sympathise with her a little. 

‘She bullied your best friend! You’re really gonna let that slide?'  

“I’m sure,” Aubrey replies with as much conviction as she can muster. “I was... wrong. I need to fix this.” 

“You’re the boss,” Kim replies, clearly still feeling conflicted on the matter. “But I spoke to the flower freak and... we need to talk about all that at some point. You owe me a proper explanation,” she adds, her tone leaving no room to argue. 

“I—yes, of course,” she agrees, slightly unnerved by her companion’s sudden conviction. “But now really isn’t—” 

“I did say later,” the delinquent interjects. “Me an Vance have got work to do, if you get me.” 

“I get you,” Aubrey lies. “So, I’ll uh... catch you later then?” 

“See ya around, Aubs,” Kim replies, giving a quick wave goodbye, before signalling her brother to come join her. But just before the two siblings go to leave, she turns back to look at Aubrey’s three companions. “If any of you freaks lay a finger on her, then I swear—” 

“Come on, sis,” Vance interrupts, pushing her along. “We’ve got a stash of taffy with our names on it!” he adds, grinning widely. “She’s right though,” he quickly warns, not even bothering to turn and face the three boys. “Watch your backs, nerds.” 

With the two delinquents' departure, the rest of the Hooligans likewise gather their scooters and prepare to leave. Aubrey isn’t sure why exactly they all own scooters, but it’s certainly... a choice. 

“Uh... well, see you later, boss,” Angel says, bidding the group farewell. “Knife boy. Nerds,” he adds, nodding his head towards her friends, his goodbye seemingly genuine despite the insulting nature of his words. “Come on, Charlie! I told you, today's the day I climb that tree!” 

The quiet girl in question follows after him, flashing them a peace sign as she goes, a gesture that Aubrey mimics in response, smiling slightly as she does so. The Hooligans are a strange but surprisingly decent group of people... it’s honestly kind of hard to imagine them going out of their way to torment Basil the way they apparently have been doing. 

‘They did it at your behest.’ 

Aubrey frowns at the thought, her mood quickly souring. Even after all she’s learnt today, the rationale behind her counterpart’s treatment of Basil continues to elude her. She robbed him of his most prized possession, bullied him for years, turned an entire gang against him, and for what? Revenge maybe? That seems like the obvious answer, but if so, then for what crime? What could Basil have possibly done to deserve all this? 

‘Nothing. Nothing justifies this.’ 

The more she thinks about it, the angrier she becomes; Kel said Basil was one of the first to find Mari, and despite having barely spoken to him, she can already see the toll that day has had on his mental state. The blonde she knows isn't exactly the most extroverted person by any means, but this Basil is a complete mess. He stutters constantly, practically radiating anxiety with every word he speaks, whilst his eyes are constantly darting around the park, searching for a threat no one else can see. His hands are always shaking, even during calm moments like this, and that’s not even mentioning how thin he is. 

Overall, he’s clearly traumatised... and yet, despite that, she bullied him.  

She saw this hurt, struggling person, a boy she once called friend, and she bullied him, robbed him, made his life hell, pushed him closer and closer to an edge he was likely far too close to as was. And all for no clear reason.  

‘Am I really that bad of a person? ' Aubrey worries. ‘No! No... this wasn’t me... I’m not that person, I wouldn’t do this! ...I wouldn’t.’  

At least, she certainly hopes she wouldn’t. 

“I protest!” a boisterous voice declares, halting Aubrey’s spiralling and grabbing her attention. 

“You’re still here?” Kel asks, frowning at the presence of the last remaining delinquent. 

“Indeed I am!” The Maverick proclaims. “And my lady!” he adds, turning to look at Aubrey. “I take issue with this so-called ‘truce’ you propose!” 

The red mark on his forehead is as comical as it is tragic, as the pattern of Kel’s basketball is clearly printed across his face. Trying her best not to laugh, she briefly ponders how she can end this mess as fast as possible, as she’s really not in the mood for Mikhael’s antics right now. 

‘They all seem to be loyal to a fault, so maybe a bit of intimidation will work then? ’ She is supposed to be their leader after all. 

“You saying no to an order, Mikhael?” she asks, trying her best to sound as intimidating as possible. 

Clearly, it works as the eccentric teen stutters slightly and visibly deflates, his posture slacking as the confidence drains from him. 

“I would never!” he protests. “But to let my rival walk away—” 

“I’m not your rival...” Kel deadpans. 

“To let my rival walk away after all his transgressions,” Mikhael continues undeterred. “It’s simply unthinkable! No, there must be a resolution! He must pay for his crimes!” 

She hates to admit it, but he’s got a point. Kel did knock his sorry ass out cold for no real reason, besides... she could use a bit of amusement right now. Turning to look at Kel with a mischievous grin, the tan teen stares back with a look that screams ‘please don’t.' 

“What did you have in mind?” she asks, ignoring her friend’s silent pleas. 

Of course, if it’s anything actually serious, then she’ll shoot that nonsense down immediately. She doesn’t want anyone to actually get hurt after all, but she doubts the Maverick of all people poses an actual threat. Besides, it’s funny watching Kel’s reaction to his shenanigans; he’d probably hit her for saying it, but they’re more similar than either of them would care to admit. The main difference is that Mikhael somehow has even less self-awareness than the orange buffoon she calls a friend. 

“I have business in the plaza,” the Maverick grins. “Come and face me there, Kelsey!” he declares, striking another bizarre pose. “We shall end this rivalry once and for all!” 

“Don’t call me that,” ‘Kelsey’ groans. 

“Here is your weapon. Don’t be late!” Mikhael yells, kicking the teen’s basketball back over to him, before quickly making his way out of the park, laughing maniacally as he goes. 

“But—you didn’t give me a time!” Kel yells after him, facepalming once the strange teen is out of sight. “Ugh! This guy!” he groans, before bending down to collect his ‘weapon’. 

“What? Not looking forward to your duel, Kelsey?” Aubrey smirks. 

“No, not really, Aubergine,” he retorts. 

“Why you son of a—” 

“H-Hi, sorry to interrupt,” Basil interjects, stepping between the two of them—a very weary smile stretched across his face. “But what the h-heck is going on?” he asks, his shaky voice practically oozing with confusion. “You called t-them off... w-why? Why are you being... n-nice to me?” 

It only now dawns on the pinkette that this whole encounter must have been incredibly confusing for the poor blonde. After all, he just watched his bully instruct his other bullies to leave him alone after spending a considerable amount of time talking to someone else she’s supposed to hate. 

“W-Well, you see I—” Aubrey stutters. 

‘How the hell am I going to explain any of this?!' she internally panics. 

“And is there... s-soil in your hair?” Basil continues, somehow looking even more perplexed than he was a mere second earlier. 

“IT’S STILL THERE?!” 

Chapter Text

“God—stupid bloody—ARGH!” Aubrey curses, hissing as a sudden tug on her hair sends a stinging sensation through her scalp. “This is impossible!” she declares, throwing her arms up in a fit of frustration.

Turns out that trying to get the soil out of her hair with only her bare hands is frustratingly difficult. Who would’ve thought? 

After attempting once more to clean her hair, Aubrey eventually gives up, and with a loud groan, she releases her grasp on her ponytail, allowing it to slip out of her hands and fall back into place. Looking over at her friends, she’s met with a variety of reactions: Sunny is (unsurprisingly) unfazed, Kel’s expression is caught somewhere between mild amusement and clear boredom, and Basil simply looks as confused as ever. 

“I can’t believe you let me walk around like this all day!” she whines, glaring at Kel in particular. 

She’d blame Sunny too, but he doesn’t seem entirely... aware of what’s happening right now. He’s more with it than he was earlier, but considering he pulled a knife on her less than thirty minutes ago, that’s not really saying much. 

“Well, sorry! ” Kel replies, his voice dripping with blatant sarcasm. “But I was a little busy at the time!” he points out. 

Having no counterargument, Aubrey simply relents with a sigh of defeat. 

“It’s not even that bad! I get stuff in my hair all the time! It’s totally normal!” Kel adds, with a shocking amount of misplaced confidence. 

“Wow, Kel. That’s really reassuring,” Aubrey deadpans. 

“You’re welcome!” he replies with a smile, somehow completely oblivious to her obvious sarcasm. 

“I was being sarcastic!” she groans. “That’s not even remotely reassuring!” 

“O-Or hygienic,” Basil adds. 

“You guys are so dramatic!” the jersey-wearing-giant replies dismissively. 

“No, we just care about basic hygiene,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “But whatever!” she laments with a groan. “We’ve got stuff to do, so there’s no point wasting any more time worrying about—” 

“A-Actually,” Basil interjects nervously. “I could... help," he suggests, pulling a hairbrush out from his back pocket. 

Aubrey slowly blinks once, then twice, and then finally, a third time, before she finally tries to muster a response to the blonde’s offer. Her mouth gapes, but no words come out; to say she’s baffled would be an understatement. But at the same time, she’s definitely grateful for the offer. 

“Do you carry that everywhere?” Kel enquires with a raised eyebrow, asking what they were all thinking. 

“Uhhh, m-maybe," the blonde mumbles awkwardly. 

Aubrey wants to linger on the strangeness of this proposition a little longer, but the more she thinks about it, the more she realises that this is actually the least strange thing that she’s witnessed today. 

“I mean... it’s certainly convenient,” she remarks after a moment with a small shrug. “But I’m not complaining,” she adds, looking the blonde in the eyes. 

“S-So... did you w-want to?” Basil asks hesitantly. 

“If you’re sure, then yeah,” she replies, before turning to look at Kel and Sunny. “You two mind waiting around a little longer?” 

“No problemo!” Kel beams, seemingly just happy to see her and Basil getting along again. “You two enjoy your beauty session,” he jokes, before turning to look at their quiet companion. “I’m gonna teach Sunny here how to shoot some hoops!” he adds, before swiftly grabbing the raven-haired boy by the hand and dragging him off toward the basketball court. 

The blonde and pinkette watch on in slight disbelief and mild amusement as the tan teen drags the almost-limp, Sunny, behind him like a bag of rocks. It’s an inherently amusing sight, but one Aubrey doesn’t linger on for too long. It’s funny at a glance, but looking too long simply highlights the boy’s emaciated figure, and thinking about his current condition stirs up a whole sea of emotions within her. It’s a problem she’s not mentally ready to tackle right now, especially since she’s got to deal with the flower boy first.  

“I don’t see that ending well,” Aubrey states. 

“S-Same here,” Basil agrees. 

The flower boy probably thinks he’s being clever, but she knows exactly what he’s doing, and honestly, she’s fully on board with it. 

“So, this little plan of yours, I’m guessing it was just a ploy for some privacy,” she says knowingly. “Wasn’t it?” 

“How did you—” 

“I know you better than you think, Bas.” 

‘Although, I don’t know why you have a hairbrush on you... that’s just weird.’ 

“I suppose you would,” the blonde boy mumbles under his breath. “W-Well, you’re right—but I just wanted to talk! I s-swear I wasn’t trying to—” 

“It’s cool,” she replies, trying to sound as relaxed as possible, her arms raised in mock surrender. “I wanted to talk anyway.” 

“Oh... that’s g-good," Basil mumbles in response. “So, s-should we—” 

“We can use that bench,” Aubrey suggests, internally lamenting how much time she’s already wasted sat on that old thing. “Oh! And before I forget,” she adds with a smile. “You are doing my hair.” 

“I—” Basil pauses, clearly shocked by, but not entirely opposed to, her demand. “S-Sure thing." 

“Alright then,” she replies, strolling over to the bench and plopping herself down onto it. The Basil she knows is great with a brush—here’s hoping this blonde shares his skill. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she adds with a smirk.  

Fiddling with the band on her ponytail, she eventually manages to get it off, allowing her hair to fall loose, the pink tangled mess quickly cascading down over her shoulders. Basil stands behind her, hairbrush in hand. She hears his breath hitch slightly at the sight of her hair and promptly releases a sigh of her own. 

‘This might be... complicated.’  

“You’ve still got it Bas,” Aubrey notes approvingly. She isn’t lying either. This blonde’s hands are certainly shakier than those of the Basil she knows, but he still knows his way around a brush. “Thank you,” she adds, looking at her ponytail and smiling softly, before letting it fall back into place once again.  

“Ah, t-thanks,” Basil stammers. “And it’s no problem, r-really... it’s been a while, h-hasn't it?” he asks, averting his eyes away from her own. “Since we last... d-did this,” he clarifies with a distant expression. 

‘I’m getting serious DeJa'Vu right now.’ 

“Yeah... it has been,” she replies plainly, hoping he’ll take the lead with this conversation. 

Truthfully, for her, it’s only been a month since the flower boy last helped her out with her hair. They live together after all, and she can’t always get it right on her own. Besides, it’s quite nice spending time with him, he’s not quite as good of a listener as her boyfriend, but he’s her oldest friend, and there are some things he just... gets. Plus, he is really good with a brush. 

She actually used to have a similar ritual with Mari, but it’s been years since they last had a ‘girl talk’. The older girl is too busy with college, and Aubrey... well honestly, she just hasn’t asked.

‘Maybe I should ask when she gets back from college! ’ she thinks to herself, smiling slightly at the thought until the recollection of her current situation hits her like a truck. ‘Oh yeah... I’m stuck here ...’ 

Sighing, she shakes the thought away and looks over to Basil who’s seemingly stuck on what to say next. Sympathising with his plight, she sits in silence and allows the blonde the time to think. As she does, Aubrey takes a second to reflect on what she knows about ‘her’ relationship with Basil in this world.  

To put it plainly, it’s bad. Really bad.  

At some point in the past, she and the flower boy presumably had some kind of falling out, God only knows what over, but it ultimately resulted in her robbing his photo album and turning an entire gang against him. To say Aubrey is missing context here would be the understatement of the century. Clearly, there was a massive escalation here, but she has absolutely no idea what could have caused it. Sure, there are a million and one things she could picture them falling out over, but nothing that could have possibly soured their relationship to the point it's at here. So, either this Basil is secretly a total monster, or her counterpart is just a vindictive bully. 

And right now, she’s more inclined to believe the latter option... 

“This...” Basil eventually starts, briefly hesitating again before continuing after a second. “This isn’t a t-trick... is it?”  

‘ ...What? ’ 

“Because if—if it is... can we n-not?” he begs. “I just want my a-album back, so there’s n-no need—” 

“Basil,” she interrupts, frowning as the blonde instinctively flinches. “I’m not—this isn’t a trick—why would I even—” she trails off with a stutter. 

She understands that from his perspective, her behaviour must seem completely out of character. But seeing him react like this? Assuming her offering him an olive branch is just some kind of cruel trick? That stings. 

“T-Then...” he mumbles. “Why?” 

“What do you—” 

“W-Why are you being n-nice?” he asks, voice dripping with confusion. “I just—I don’t understand.” 

‘How the hell do I explain this? Do I tell him the truth? ...No. No, there’s no way that’ll end well,’ she reasons to herself. 

“...Would you believe me if I said I had a change of mind?” she eventually asks. 

It’s kind of funny... in a cosmic sort of way at least. As she is technically telling the truth here. She did have a change of mind, just... not in the way Basil would imagine. Amusingly, this is the exact kind of trick the flower boy she knows would use. For such a seemingly innocent guy, he sure loves his ‘technical truths’. This Basil, however, simply stares at her with an unreadable expression. 

“Figured not,” she sighs. “Alright, how about this then,” she starts, carefully considering her next words. “The actual reason is kinda... weird, and I’m... not ready to explain it right now. I will do! Just... not right now.” 

In reality, she simply doesn’t trust Basil to not immediately freak out at the revelation that she’s from a different universe. She’ll tell him eventually; she just needs to get a better grasp on his mental state first. 

“I promise this isn’t an act though!” she adds. “I... I’ve been a total jerk to you, and I am so, so, sorry for everything I’ve done, I was wrong and—” 

“I-It’s alright Aubrey,” Basil interjects nervously. “R-Really I... it’s fine I—” 

“It’s not fine!” she insists, startling the flower boy. “I... I want to make things right,” she mumbles. “You don’t have to act like everything is okay between us... but I want to make it up to you.” 

Basil seems to pale slightly at her choice of words, but before Aubrey can worry anymore, a nervous smile quickly forces its way onto his face. 

“W-Well, I can’t argue with t-that,” he laughs nervously. 

It’s forced and they both know it. But Aubrey can already tell she’s not going to get an honest reaction out of him. Whatever resentment he has for her counterpart is likely buried under the overwhelming desire for normalcy, which certainly works well for her but... it doesn’t quite feel right... 

‘ It would help Kel’s plan though... and I DO want to make things right between us .’ 

She’s not his therapist, she’s his bully... Aubrey can’t expect him to truly open up to her, but she can still try and mend their friendship. Besides, Sunny’s back! Surely spending some time with his best friend will cheer the flower boy up... right? 

“We can go grab your album later then,” she states, despite still feeling rather unsure about the whole thing. “But I was just wondering... if you’d want to maybe... tag along with us?” 

“H-Huh?” 

“Well, with Sunny... being back, Kel figured we could all hang out... y’know, like the old days,” she explains awkwardly. 

“I-I that—” he stutters. 

“No pressure! I just thought you might want to—” 

“I DO!” he insists with uncharacteristic volume. “Uhhh, I mean I d-do! But my grandma she—she isn’t feeling too w-well right now.” 

‘ Mrs Flower is alive here? ’ 

Honestly, it shouldn’t even be of surprise anymore. Of course, she’d be alive, why wouldn’t she?!  

Sighing, Aubrey slowly comes to terms with the weight of Basil's words. The biggest revelation? Mrs. Flower is somehow still alive, albeit in poor health. Which is rather puzzling, given that in her own world, the woman passed peacefully in her sleep about a year ago now. Aubrey is unsure what made the woman cling to life that little bit longer here, but unfortunately, she doubts she’ll have the chance to talk with her. She really hopes she can though. The old woman had been a kind and merciful figure, someone who gave her a roof over her head and asked for nothing in return. It would have been nice to see her again, but from the way Basil spoke, it doesn't sound like she's got much time left. A real shame, honestly. Aubrey had really missed her.

She briefly wonders if her counterpart ever felt the same way, before quickly scowling as it dawns on her just how cruel her double must have become. Bullying her former best friend whilst the closest thing he’s had to a parental figure is on death’s doorstep. 

‘Maybe I didn’t know? ’ Aubrey rationalises to herself, trying and failing to give her counterpart the benefit of the doubt. ‘Like that would matter...’ 

“God,” she curses under her breath, trying to suppress the very literal self-loathing she feels. “I—I’m really sorry Bas... You should go spend time with her,” she suggests. “We can hang out tomo—” 

“N-No!” he blurts out again, his voice cracking slightly. “I mean—” he hesitates, clearly embarrassed by his sudden outburst. “I guess I could maybe... hang out with you g-guys... for a little w-while?” he adds, his words sounding more like a question, with clear uncertainty underlying every syllable. 

‘He really can’t believe I want him around,’ Aubrey realises, a deep sense of guilt suddenly gnawing at her stomach. ‘Other me... if—WHEN we meet, I swear to God I’m gonna—’ 

Mentally despairing, Aubrey pauses, takes a deep breath, and steadies herself. She doesn’t want Basil to think she’s angry at him. That’s the last thing either of them need right now. 

Deep down, she’s still clinging to the hope that there’s some kind of rational explanation for all of this. Even if it turns out to be one big misunderstanding, she’ll take it. Anything is better than this suffocating uncertainty. She just needs an answer. 

‘No, you just want to know if you’re a bad person. Like that answer isn’t already obvious...’ 

“Well... only if you want to,” she eventually replies. “And I mean only .” 

He pauses, seemingly caught between his fear and his longing. He wants to trust her, she can tell that much. But a few kinds words, and a sudden 'change of heart' can't undo years of harrassment. She hopes he'll agree but she'll completely understand if doesn't. So, offering him a small reassuring smile, she silently waits for his response. 

“I d-do," Basil states after a minute, seemingly with as much confidence as he can muster. 

“...Alright then,” she replies with a tired sigh of relief. “Wanna go join the others?” 

“S-Sure.” 

This isn’t over, she can feel it. This conversation wasn’t a resolution, it was a band-aid, a step in the right direction. Aubrey expected as much of course, you can’t solve four years of strife with a short conversation, and by all accounts that went about as well as it could have. Yet despite knowing that, she still feels disappointed. 

“Wow! That looks so good!” Kel declares, his boisterous voice so loud that Aubrey can hear him from across the park. 

It’s immediately clear that he and Sunny have drifted away from the court and over to some girl that Aubrey vaguely recognises. She can't recall her name for the life of her, but Aubrey has definitely seen her around town before. She also can’t say she’s surprised to see that Kel's plan to teach Sunny basketball didn’t work out—but why was their backup plan to go bother some random girl?

“Ah, t-thank you!” the girl stutters in response to Kel’s praise. 

She looks about their age, with brown glasses, a stripped grey jacket, and short messy black hair. Even at a glance, it’s obvious that she’s nervous, but at least she doesn’t seem too bothered by her friend’s presence.

“Hey!” Aubrey calls out, immediately grabbing the trio’s attention. 

“Sup Aubs!” Kel yells back with a wide smile, one that falters slightly as his eyes dart between her and the flower boy beside her. “So, uh... you two good?” 

She looks over at Basil, silently asking him the exact same question. He offers her a small, nervous smile in response. 

‘That’ll do.’ 

“Yeah, we’re good,” she replies casually. “Basil’s tagging along with us by the way.” 

“Awesome!” Kel beams, not even trying to hide his excitement. “Oh! I almost forgot! This is Mincy! She’s like, the best artist in town!” he adds, gesturing to his visibly nervous companion. “Show ‘em your drawing dude!” 

Aubrey groans simply at the display. Kel is way too extroverted for his own good sometimes. He’s put this poor girl in the spotlight and hasn’t even realised how uncomfortable she is with that. 

“W-Well, I don’t know about the best,” ‘Mincy’ murmurs sheepishly in response, nervously twidling with her pencil. 

‘At least she’s modest.’ 

“Nonsense!” the tan teen protests. “You’re great! Isn't she Sunny?” he asks, turning to look at his silent compatriot. 

Sunny simply gives a thumbs-up in response. Which is pretty high praise from a fellow artist, especially one who hasn't interacted with anyone else in the past four years. 

‘Wait, does he even practice art in this word? ’ Aubrey wonders to herself. She’d like to think he was doing something during all that time he spent cooped up in his room, but she has a sinking feeling that wasn’t the case. ‘Oh, Sunny... I’m so sorry.’ 

“Ah! Thank you so much! You’re both so kind,” Mincy replies with a faint blush. “Would you... like to see my drawing?” she asks, hesitantly addressing the blonde and pinkette before her. 

“Sure,” Aubrey replies nonchalantly. 

“O-Okay,” Basil stutters, seemingly shocked by the sudden attention. 

With shaky hands, Mincy raises her sketchbook and turns the open page around to face the pair, before immediately glancing away, as if afraid of their reaction. Aubrey gazes at the drawing and nods her head approvingly. It’s a self-portrait of some kind, surprisingly detailed for what appears to be a simple pencil sketch, although Aubrey doesn’t know enough about art to properly comment on its quality. Her Sunny would know what to say here but he's... well, he's wherever home is.

“Nice,” she remarks, with her best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“O-Oh? Thank you!” Mincy replies, practically glowing with pride from the compliment. 

Aubrey instinctively smiles at the sight, Mincy seems nice—pretty good with a pencil too. Hopefully she can learn to take more pride in her art, because the poor girl seemed almost terrified of their reaction just a second ago. Speaking of which... why is Basil so quiet? He hasn't passed any comment yet, not even a simple remark like her own. Glancing at the him, Aubrey struggles to read his expression but there are clear hints of confusion and... concern? But why? It's just a drawing.

“...W-Why do you look... s-scared?” he hesitantly asks.

His words immediately sour the park’s atmosphere, with Mincy’s face quickly paling as she registers his question. Frowning slightly at his remark, Aubrey glances back at the drawing again, only to see that, sure enough, the pencil-sketch Mincy is clearly drawn with a scared expression, as if unsettled by something out of frame. Although, upon closer inspection, the drawing actually seems to be framed within... a mirror? 

“Is... is that supposed to be your reflection?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Y-Yeah...” the girl mumbles, visibly uncomfortable with her line of questioning. “Well, k-kind of... it’s been a rough morning,” she adds, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with her sleeve. 

“Kind of?” 

“It’s a long story,” Mincy replies, her tone rather obviously suggesting that she doesn’t want to tell said story. 

“Right... well, it’s still impressive,” Aubrey says, instinctively frowning at the girl’s vagueness. 

“T-Totally,” Basil adds. 

“Thanks,” the girl mumbles in response, her tone sounding a lot flatter than earlier. 

It’s uncomfortably silent for a moment, until Aubrey clears her throat as loudly as possible, regaining her friend’s attention. 

“So, are we gonna like... do something?” she asks, desperately trying to get them all back on track. 

“Right!” Kel agrees, turning to look at Sunny once more. “It’s your call dude! Got anything else you wanna see?” 

“...” 

“Kel, I d-don't think—” Basil goes to comment, only for Aubrey to beat him to the point. 

“He doesn’t talk genius,” she retorts, before looking over to Sunny herself and taking on a gentler tone. “Hey Sun, wanna go check out the plaza?” 

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. However, after a second or two, he meets her eyes, blushes faintly, and nods his head in response. It’s the most emotion she’s seen from him all day, and she can’t help but smile softly at the sight. The boy she grew up with is still in there somewhere. He may be buried under a mountain of trauma and grief, but it’s nice to see that some parts of his true self still manage to shine through.

“Well, I guess that decides it then!” she beams, giving Kel a knowing side-eye. 

“Ugh, if Mikhael is there, I am NOT dealing with him alone!” the tan teen groans. 

“You promised dude,” Aubrey reminds him with an incredibly smug grin. 

She likes this Kel, and she appreciates his help, but he’s still Kel, so she’s going to take any chance she can to get on his nerves. It’s just the natural order of things. 

“Damn...” he curses under his breath. 

“I am so lost right now,” Basil mumbles. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” she replies dismissively. 

With their destination decided, the group bids farewell to Mincy and leaves the park, setting off in the direction of the plaza. As they walk, Aubrey and Kel do most of the talking, with the former trying her best to discretely learn more about this universe to... mixed results. Basil occasionally chimes in, but he’s noticeably keeping a healthy distance between herself and him. It really stings to see him acting this way, but she completely understands why he’s doing it. Honestly, it’s a miracle she even convinced him to tag along in the first place. Though, she can’t help but notice that he’s keeping his distance from Sunny too, only acknowledging the boy’s existence with the occasional worried glance. It’s a strange sight, and one Kel is seemingly oblivious to.

They’re best friends, or at least they’re supposed to be. Aubrey had fairly assumed they’d be a bit happier to see each other again, but clearly, that’s not the case. 

Shaking her head, Aubrey tries to ignore the mountain of lingering questions she has. This world is beyond messed up, but Sunny will be leaving soon, and for as dumb as Kel can be, he has the right idea when it comes to this mess. They should be making his last days here the best they can be! Not wasting time getting caught up in... stuff. Who knows? If all goes to plan, then maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to enjoy her time here too.

‘I just hope I’m not here too long,’ she thinks to herself, glancing at a loose strand of her pink hair. ‘ Mari... I wish you were here.’  

She supposes that old saying really is true, you never truly know what you have, until it’s gone. 

It’s impressive just how quickly they get sidetracked. Sunny, like a man possessed, silently insisted that they stop and talk to every single person they passed on their way to the plaza. That then somehow escalated into them entering random people’s homes and chatting with their inhabitants. 

Thankfully, Faraway’s famously relaxed attitude towards this sort of thing is present in this universe too, so no one seemed overly bothered by their intrusion (although she did notice a couple of suspicious side-eyes directed at her). If anything, some people were a bit too happy for their presence, turning their simple ‘go to the plaza’ plan into a series of unexpected ‘sidequests’, as Kel so eloquently described them. 

Anyway, to put a long and strange story short, she and Basil are currently sat on the curb waiting for Sunny to complete the tutoring gig he somehow managed to ‘talk’ his way into doing. Correction, his second tutoring gig. The man just strolled into a random house, stumbled into a vacancy, and somehow (according to Kel anyway) did a damn good job teaching some kid math.

‘I’m starting to remember why I love that little gremlin so much...’  

Sure, he’s not the Sunny she knows, but he still has that instinctive urge to help people out. Even in his fugue state, he’s still running around town doing chores, cleaning trash, and just generally being a positive influence, all out of the kindness of his heart. She always admired that about him, so it’s good to see that characteristic transcends her own universe. She’ll admit, she had her doubts earlier, especially considering the whole ‘pulling a freaking knife on me ’ thing, but she’s glad she was wrong. 

“Say, what have we done so far?” she suddenly asks, thinking aloud and tilting her head. “I swear, it’s only been an hour and we’ve somehow been everywhere but the plaza.” 

“Well,” Basil starts, raising a finger for every point he lists. “We saw M-Mincy's art, spoke with Cris about seashells, found s-sheers for Kim’s Mom, gave that Artist some advice, got a guy’s r-ring out of his sink, agreed to grab an old lady’s medicine, cleaned some trash, talked to like t-twenty people and...” he trails off. “I think that’s e-everything.” 

“You’re forgetting Sunny’s tutoring gig,” she points out. 

“Oh y-yeah,” Basil replies. “M-My bad.” 

“No problem,” she says, dismissing his concern. “Honestly, I never took him for the teaching type... I do hope he gets a move on though.” 

Aubrey had wisely decided to sit the tutoring jobs out. She figured that the parents of Faraway wouldn’t want an infamous delinquent chilling in their kid’s room whilst her friend teaches their kid math or something. Thankfully, Basil chose to stick with her, his reasoning being that there was no need for all of them to crowd into one house. Kel, on the other hand, insisted on staying with Sunny, even though they all knew damn well he wouldn’t be contributing anything to the tutoring efforts. 

She’s not sure if it’s sad or hilarious that a recovering shut-in is seemingly more academically gifted than someone actively enrolled in high school. 

“W-Why do you say that?” Basil asks, snapping her out of thoughts. 

“Because sitting on the curb is boring,” Aubrey deadpans in response. 

“N-No, I mean Sunny being a t-teacher," the blonde clarifies. 

“Ah, well, that’s simple really,” she replies casually. “I just never figured he’d have the patience for it.” 

“R-Really?” 

“Yeah?” she replies with a raised eyebrow. 

Sunny has the patience of a saint in some ways, always being there to listen to his friend's woes, no matter how trivial. But in other ways... well, not so much. There’s one glaring example that immediately comes to mind, but obviously that one is a bit more... complicated. Anyway, sure, he's good with kids, their time babysitting Sally proved that much to her, but she never figured he'd have the patience to teach 'em. Maybe she misjudged him... or maybe this Sunny is more different then she realised.

“I d-don't know about tha—” the flower boy goes to protest, only to be interrupted once again by a door slamming loudly behind them. 

“Say Sunny, you think you can tutor me at some point? Help get Ma off my back?” Kel asks, his booming voice all but demanding their full attention. 

The raven-haired boy’s expression remains completely neutral, yet Aubrey could swear he somehow looks even less enthusiastic then he did a mere second ago. 

“Took youse long enough,” she states, ‘greeting’ the pair. “We finally ready to go to the plaza?” 

“Damn, I was hoping we could keep putting that off,” Kel confesses, drawing yet another sigh from Aubrey. 

“Dude, do not tell me you’re sca—” 

“I’m not scared of Mikhael,” the tan teen interjects, correctly guessing her next words. “I just can’t be bothered with that guy; he’s such a headache!” 

“He is a l-lot," Basil agrees. 

“I’m aware,” Aubrey sighs. “But he’ll just give me—and by me, I mean us —more grief later, if you two don’t have your little rematch.” 

“Y’know, I really hate it when you’re right,” Kel sighs. “Alright, fine! The plaza it is!” 

“That’s the spirit!” she smiles in response. Despite herself, and the dire circumstances she’s found herself in, Aubrey must admit, she’s almost enjoying this... almost. 

As the group resumes their journey towards the plaza, Aubrey finds herself instinctively walking just a little bit closer to Sunny than she was earlier. Thankfully, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, so she maintains her position and allows herself to relax just a little bit. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend she’s back home again... 

“Well, well, well,” the Maverick taunts, as he slowly rises from his spot in front of the plaza fountain, and (rather surprisingly) the two girls by his side. “If it isn’t my rival! Ready for round two Kelsey?” he asks, striking a bizzare pose that Aubrey is certain must be an anime reference or something.

Kel doesn’t even try to mask his groan, and honestly, she gets the feeling. They’re a mere thirty seconds into this interaction and she’s already getting second-hand embarrassment. 

“Sure,” the tan teen replies, with the same amount of enthusiasm you’d expect from a dog being told it’s bath time. 

Silently sympathising with her friend, Aubrey stops and takes a second to actually look at Mikhael. She had been so preoccupied with... well, everything this morning, so hadn’t really looked at the Hooligans much, or at least properly looked at them, if that makes any sense. Obviously, she had immediately noticed Mikhael’s obnoxiously oversized blonde wig, but now her attention is also drawn to his half-untucked cyan shirt, with its raised collar and unbuttoned front, revealing a single, solitary chest hair that she really wishes she hadn’t seen.

Aubrey gets that the Hooligans are supposed to be delinquents, them trying too hard to look cool was inevitable, and hell, she’d be shocked if her counterpart wasn’t guilty of that too. But this? This is something else entirely. She’s not sure if Mikhael’s trying to look like an anime character or something, but whatever he’s going for, it is not working. 

“Very well then,” the Maverick continues, oblivious to the collective cringe he’s causing. “Ladies step aside; this battle is long overdue!” 

His two admirers swoon over his words, seemingly enamoured by his bravado, their voices obnoxiously saccharine and their support horrifically misplaced. For the sake of her mental well-being Aubrey choses to zone out from the scene before her, tuning out Mikhael's painful banter and instead focusing on her surroundings. 

The plaza (like most of what she’s seen of this version of Faraway) is essentially the exact same as the one from her world. Ginos, Fix-It, Hoobbeez, and Othermart are all here and all identical to the businesses she knows from back home. Honestly, it’s kind of unnerving, she’s travelled dimensions, unwillingly achieved something only thought possible in pages of tacky comic books, and yet barely anything has changed. This Earth is the same, this town is the same, and the only thing that’s changed is her friends... and her family. 

“Come on Sunny, let’s get this over with,” Kel groans, his insane suggestion immediately dragging Aubrey out of her disassociation.  

“Kel?!” 

“W-What?! Kel no!” 

Aubrey’s voice overlaps with Basil’s as the two simultaneously protest their friend’s proposal. She gives him a surprised glance before promptly refocusing on the now very confused duo standing in front of her. 

“...What?” Kel asks, a baffled expression as clear as day on his face. 

“Dude, you are NOT dragging Sunny into this,” she groans in response. “Have you actually lost it? Look at him!” she adds gesturing to the boy in question and causing everyone present to glance in his direction. “Does he look like he’s in any condition to fight?!” 

Now under the gaze of a dozen eyes, Sunny looks around for a second, before slowly raising his fists and gesturing his head in Mikheal’s direction, as if asking for permission to join the brawl. 

“Sunny no,” she deadpans, sighing again as he reluctantly lowers his fists, a slight pout on his face. 

“He looks willing to me,” Kel shrugs. “Besides we were gonna fight earlier,” he points out. 

“Yeah! And I was gonna focus on you! You dumb son of a—” 

“G-Guys please!” Basil begs. 

“Right. Sorry,” she apologises. Taking a second to try and regain her composure, Aubrey groans again for what feels like the hundredth time today before eventually continuing. “Kel you’re not dragging Sunny into this. I’m pretty sure you can take Mik— the Maverick on your own just fine,” she states, ignoring Mikhael's protests. 

“Fine,” Kel relents, groaning loudly as he turns back to face his ‘rival’. 

“Mikhael r-really gets under his skin, huh?” Basil murmurs from beside her. 

“Yeah, it’s rare to see him this sulky,” Aubrey replies, before quickly realising her slip-up. “N-Not that I see him much anyway! Just... y’know...” she corrects awkwardly. 

“...Right.” 

Mentally cursing herself, Aubrey looks away from the flower boy and watches as the resumed banter between Kel and Mikhael plays out. It’s as cringe-inducing as ever but it still beats looking at Basil right now. She really needs to talk to Kel when his ‘fight’ is finished, because she is really struggling to keep her story straight here. Not that she plans on lying to Basil and Sunny much longer but... 

‘Later. I’ll tell them later.’ 

Kel and Mikhael’s bickering carries on for another minute or so before Sunny (seemingly having accepted he won’t be doing any fighting today) suddenly strolls on over and joins them, standing at a comfortable distance from Basil. She has no idea what is going on with those two, but she wisely decides against commenting on it. 

“You got this Maverick!” one of Mikhael’s admirers cheers, gaining both the pinkette’s attention and curiosity. 

“You think those two actually like him?” she asks, thinking aloud. 

“W-Well... they do say love is blind,” Basil replies, his tone surprisingly wistful. 

“No,” Aubrey mumbles, glancing past Basil and towards the boy by his side. “Only half...” 

“W-What?” 

“Nothing.” Once again cursing herself, Aubrey quickly moves to remove herself from the conversation. “Y’know what? I’m just gonna go ask them,” she states, marching away from her friends, past the bickering rivals, and over to the fountain. 

‘Those two need some space to talk anyway,’ Aubrey rationalises to herself. ‘Besides, I HAVE to know if these girls are genuine.’ 

Approaching the two admirers, she watches as the girls turn to look at her, their frowns and generally sour expressions making it immediately apparent that they distrust her. 

“Hey,” she greets, only to be met with silence and judgmental stares. Suddenly regretting her choices, Aubrey swallows the lump in her throat and goes to ask her question. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to ask are you two actually—” she barely gets those first few words out before she’s suddenly interrupted. 

“He pays us,” one of the ‘admirers’ quickly interjects. 

“If that’s what you were wondering,” the second girl adds. 

‘ ...Okay. Wow. That totally checks out. But also, what the hell?! ’ 

It makes sense, as tragic as that is, but it certainly wasn’t Aubrey’s first guess as to what was going on here. She highly doubted the girls were genuine, but a part of her just figured they were messing with him or something. But Mikhael paying them to hang out with him? Yeah, she was not expecting that.  

“I—Wow, that’s... sad,” Aubrey mumbles, still shock—well no, not shocked, (again, it totally checks out) but more... awestruck by Mikhael's desperation. “I’m amazed you two put up with—” 

“Hey, don’t get judgy, cash is cash,” one of the girls snaps, interrupting Aubrey once again. “My Mom cut my allowance last month and a girl’s gotta get by y’know.” 

“I—” 

“Besides,” the second girl adds. “He pays us to put up with him, he’s actually your friend.” Her smirk is cruel and tone vindictive; clearly, Aubrey has unwittingly made herself the target of the duo’s pent-up frustrations. “That’s like, a billion times sadder!” she laughs. 

Sitting around all day, listening to the delusional self-grandeur of an eccentric weirdo, just to earn a few bucks does sound incredibly frustrating. So, Aubrey can understand why the pair are so quick to anger, even if it is completely misplaced. 

“Well, I—I guess you’ve got me there,” she mumbles in response, completely caught off guard by the girl’s hostility. “I wasn’t even judging you though.” 

“Sure you weren’t,” one of the ‘admirers’ sighs, whilst the other just rolls their eyes. 

“Just watch the show,” the other girl suggests, her eyes now trained on the bickering ‘rivals’. “Trust me, it’s gonna be a trainwreck.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about...” Aubrey murmurs. 

Still, she follows the girl’s advice and focuses her gaze on the scene before her. Basil and Sunny are likewise watching on from their side of the plaza, although the pair are clearly uncomfortable in eachother’s presence (especially in Basil’s case). She has no idea what’s up with them but that’s hardly what her focus is on right now. Indeed, the main attraction is the brewing tension between Kel and Mikhael. As the two ‘rivals’ are have taken their respective combat stances and are now glaring at eachother. It’s obvious a fight is going to break out any second now, Aubrey just hopes it doesn't get too out of hand.

Mikhael's stance is as overly dramatic as he is, his arms are outstretched, reaching up to the sky as if to call upon some higher power for strength. 

‘If you get an answer Mav, mind asking ‘em why the hell I’m here? ’ 

By comparison, Kel’s ‘stance’ is much simpler, he’s just stood there, basketball in hand, looking like he’s ready to lob it at his opponent with as much force as he can muster. That last point is slightly concerning, as Aubrey has seen what Kel can do when he’s pissed; the mark of his ball’s last impact is still just barely visible on Mikhael’s face. She briefly wonders what exactly she said to get him that mad earlier. She called him a lot of things: idiot, dumbass, useless, and probably some other curses she can’t recall. As to which one set him off and why? Aubrey has no idea, but she hopes for Mikhael's sake that he doesn’t repeat it. 

Suddenly, with a flamboyant battle cry, the Maverick lunges forward with an goes to attack Kel with an admittedly impressive, yet rather impractical jump-kick. He manages to get some distance, and Aubrey is pretty certain it would actually hurt if he made contact with Kel—big emphasis on the ‘if’ there. As the tan teen simply sidesteps the Maverick’s lunge, causing the eccentric delinquent to miss and tumble down onto the pavement. He whimpers slightly as he struggles to rise on shaky arms, but Kel gives him little sympathy, instead lining up his shot, he pings his basketball off Mikhael’s head, causing the fake blonde to lose what little progress he had with his ascension. The ball bounces back into Kel’s hands, and so, with a mischievous grin, he repeats the process a few more times, bouncing the ball off Mikhael’s head, catching it, then flinging it back at him again. 

Eventually, Kel’s expression grows troubled, and he refuses to catch the ball again, instead allowing it to roll away, giving poor Mikhael some breathing room. He takes a few cautious steps towards the deflated Maverick, before leaning down and offering him a hand. 

“Come on dude, I think—” Kel’s peace offer is cut off by a surprise uppercut from the Maverick. Whilst it doesn’t seem to do much damage it certainly catches everyone off guard. 

“HA! The Maverick kneels to no one!” Mikhael declares, striking yet another absurd pose. 

Kel simply groans in response, raising his fists and approaching the Maverick he finally throws his first actual punch of the fight, which is soon followed by a counterattack from Mikhael. The pair quickly fall into a rhythm of trading blows, and honestly, the rest of the fight is pretty underwhelming from that point onwards.

They go back and forth for another minute or so until Kel finally gains the upper hand and, with a mean right hook, knocks the delinquent down onto his ass. 

“Are we done yet?” Kel whines between pants. 

“Done?” The Maverick mimics, slowly rising once more, rubbing his bloody nose on his sleeve as he does. “Done?! You utter fool this isn’t even my final—” 

Mercifully, his monologue is cut shut before it can drag out any longer, as a sudden gust of wind blows his wig from it's place atop his head. 

“...Well, I’m done,” one of the ‘admirers’ states, promptly taking her leave, followed shortly after by her companion. 

“Same here, no amount of money is worth this,” the other girl agrees. 

‘Ouch, poor Mikhael .’ 

“W-Wait! Girls! I have more money!” the defeated delinquent cries out to no avail. 

It’s painfully quiet for a moment, as Aubrey, Basil, and Sunny simply observe the travesty unfolding before them, whilst Kel hovers awkwardly in front of Mikhael, clearly unsure of what to do next. There’s nothing that can be said here, not really anyway, they just witnessed the most tragic fight of all time, and no comments could possibly do any of that justice. 

“So... we done?” Kel eventually asks. 

Mikhael remains quiet for another few seconds, his face downcast and demeanour deflated. It’s quite a pitiful sight, but it doesn’t last long, as he suddenly reaches out, retrieves, and re-equips his wig before striking one last stupid pose. 

“The Maverick would be willing to accept a tie!” he declares. 

“Will you leave me alone if I accept?” 

“...Yes.” 

“A tie it is then,” Kel relents exasperatedly. 

“Until we meet again!” Mikhael yells before rushing off to God knows where. 

“But you said you’d leave me alo—urgh! This guy...” 

Despite having won the fight, Aubrey has never seen Kel more look defeated than he is right now. With a resigned sigh, he makes his way over to Basil and Sunny, the former of the two seemingly grateful for the company. Following his example, she strolls across the plaza and rejoins the group, still unsure of what to even say after all of... that. 

“What now?” she eventually settles on asking. 

Wordlessly, everyone turns to look at Sunny, who, despite being the least vocal of them all, has somehow managed to become the de facto leader of this merry little band. He seems to give the question some thought, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, before his eyes suddenly widen. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out some loose change and begins enthusiastically gesturing at the stores in front of them. 

“You want to go s-shopping?” Basil asks, making a fairly reasonable guess. 

Sunny, however, simply shakes his head in response, which Aubrey presumes is the only acknowledgement he’s willing to offer the flower boy today. 

“Then—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, “—what do you mean?” 

“I really do hope we’ll see you at the party!” Karen beams, waving goodbye as she and her partner depart Fix-It. 

The pair seem to be a nice, albeit obnoxiously lovey-dovey couple; they couldn’t even decide on a wallpaper colour because they didn’t want to upset each other! Thankfully, Sunny helped them reach a compromise and snagged the group an invite to their housewarming party.  

Honestly, they kind of remind Aubrey of Hero and Mari in some ways. Karen’s partner Sean even has a similar haircut to Hero, although his fashion sense is somehow even worse than her older friend’s. Seriously, it should be illegal for a shirt to have that many checkers on it. 

“Of course!” Kel replies, his smile as wide as hers. “Thanks for the invite!” 

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be there!” Aubrey adds, awkwardky fidgeting in place. She appreciates the invite but ideally, she won’t be here when the couple host it. Nothing against them of course! She just doesn’t want to be stuck here for too long. Waving goodbye to the couple, she sighs and turns to address her friend. “Is Sunny done yet?” 

She’s spent enough time in this store, she’d like to move on to the next distraction already. 

“Hm? Nah, think he’s got a few more tools to sort,” Kel responds with a shrug. “Plus, Basil’s still in the gardening section,” he adds. 

Turns out what Sunny meant was that he wanted money. And a lot of it. 

Indeed, with a shocking amount of energy, the boy dragged them through Othermart, grabbing that old lady’s prescription, speaking to anyone willing to chat, before then finally taking up work swatting flies around the store. Then, the second he got his payment they were immediately off to Fix-It where he helped out Sean and Karen then got straight to work sorting shelves for the lazy cashier. 

Truthfully, had Aubrey realised it was this easy to find work around Faraway then she wouldn’t have stuck with Gino’s for as long as she had. 

‘If I don’t get a full-time position when I get back home then I swear—Wait! Gino’s! '

If Sunny is so hellbent on spending his last couple of days here grinding through the gig economy, then Gino’s is the perfect place to go next. They’ve almost always got one shift available, maybe even more depending on the day

'Hmmm, I wonder...'

“Say, I'm still broke in this world, right?”

“Uhhh, I think so,” Kel mumbles, rubbing chin. “I mean, you’ve robbed like half the stores in this town so—” 

“Okay, say less!” she interjects, waving her hands frantically, embarrassed by her counterpart’s crimes. “But if I’m broke, and you’re broke, then maybe we shoulddd?” 

“Should what?” 

“Should—Oh! Look who it is!” she grins as Sunny approaches. “Hey, Sun, you ready for your next shift working boy?” she asks, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice. 

Sunny nods enthusiastically, and Aubrey smiles in response. 

“Great! Then let’s go grab Basil, I’ve got an idea.” 

“What?!” Aubrey cries. “Come on dude!” 

Her little plan hit a brick wall surprisingly fast. Turns out being an infamous delinquent and general nuisance around town hasn’t exactly earned her the best résumé. In other words, this world’s Gino trusts her as far as he can throw her—and she’s seen his arms, there’s not much muscle going on there! So, basically, he has absolutely no intention of hiring her.  

Which is ridiculous! She wasn’t the one who committed all those crimes! Sure, she looks almost identical to the person who did them, and she can’t exactly explain that to Gino unless she wants to take an extended vacation to the nearest psych ward but... 

Okay, maybe it’s a little understandable. But it’s still unfair! 

“Look, the only one of you I’m willing to trust here is the quiet kid,” Gino replies, gesturing to Sunny. “That guy—” he adds, pointing at Kel “—looks like he’s going to eat any deliveries I give him, blondie over there doesn’t look like he even wants to be here, and you have robbed most of plaza!” 

She hates to admit it, but he’s got a point. If this Kel is anything like the one she knows, then his hunger is unparalleled. And as for Basil—well, he didn’t exactly seem the most thrilled by this plan when they dragged him out of Fix-It's gardening section. And considering she’s apparently the most hated person in the whole damn town, it makes sense that Gino only trusts Sunny.  

But Aubrey hasn’t given up hope yet, there’s a loophole here, a question so obvious, so simple, yet so effective. 

“Yeah, but... have I ever robbed you?” she asks. 

“...No,” Gino admits quietly. 

“So, come on man! Give me—us a chance!” 

The older man pauses for a moment, seemingly weighing up his options. But his expression is telling. He’s going to say yes, Aubrey just knows it. She’s worked for him for ages now, and if there’s one thing she’s sure of, it’s that Gino loves cheap labour. Consequently, it comes as no surprise when he finally speaks up again. 

“I’ve only got one full uniform available and a single delivery bike,” he explains. “I’ve got a couple of spare hats and bibs though, so two of you can wear those. But I've got no clue how you’ll all fit on one bike,” he adds, scratching his chin. “But if you can figure that out, then the shifts yours... well, for three of you, anyway.” 

Okay, so, there are a few hurdles here, but they can work around this... probably. 

“I t-think I’ll sit this one out,” Basil quickly pipes up. 

‘Well, that’s one less thing to worry about.’ 

“Aw man, that’s lame,” Kel pouts. “But hey! You can just talk to strangers until we get back! That’s what I’d do!” 

Aubrey gives her friend an incredulous look. She knew he was an extrovert, but that is just something else entirely. Basil, meanwhile, simply laughs nervously in response, clearly having zero intention of taking his suggestion seriously. 

“What about the bike situation?” she asks. “I know Sunny’s thin but there’s no way three of us and a stack of pizzas are fitting on one bike.” 

“You have a bike,” Kel points out. 

That little tidbit of information takes her by surprise. She had always wanted a bike, that ease of transportation and the sense of freedom it promised, but she never managed to save up enough money for one. Seems like her counterpart beat her to the punch. 

“I do?” she impulsively asks, only to immediately realise her mistake. 

Basil has the most notable reaction to her slip-up, raising his eyebrow and giving her a strange look. She doesn’t know if he’s figured out something’s wrong yet or if he’s just starting to suspect something, but either way, the longer she stays silent, the more suspicious he’ll grow. 

“Yeah, or well, the oth—” Kel starts to correct himself, only to stop as Aubrey gives him a harsh, piercing glare. 

She’s messed this up enough as is, she doesn’t need him making things worse! Although, it has just now dawned on her that Kel isn’t actually aware that she’s keeping Basil and Sunny in the dark about her... predicament. Of course, she kind of assumed he would have already figured that out by now, but apparently not. 

“Right, sorry it just slipped my mind,” she mumbles, poorly excusing herself. “That could work though, if you don’t mind sharing.” 

Being crammed on a bike with Kel isn’t exactly her idea of fun, but she’s come this far and there doesn’t appear to be any other solutions. Besides, thinking about it a bit more, there are two bikes available, so she doesn’t necessarily have to share one with Kel...  

“...Hey Sun—” 

“Alright! Here you go!” Gino’s voice calls out, loudly interrupting Aubrey’s question and prompting her to spin around and face him with a flustered expression. “You—” he continues, pointing to Sunny, “—get the full uniform! So you can go get changed in the back. The rest of you can just throw these on in the corner over there,” he explains before passing the uniforms across the counter. 

Sunny grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, weighing it in his hands for a moment, before wordlessly heading off into the back of the shop. The clothes Kel and Aubrey are handed are much shabbier by comparison. There are no shirts, just a pair of crumpled aprons and dented hats. And even though by the time they’re dressed they do look the part, Aubrey just can’t help but feel a little slighted. Sure, it’s no-one's fault, but she’s been working here for ages! And now she’s being downgraded to the excess garbs, the scruffy spares she knows for a fact haven’t been cleaned for years? How is that fair?!

‘Except you never worked here, not in this universe.’ 

“Haha! I wish ma could see me now!” Kel laughs, clearly much happier about this situation than she is. Which is ironic, considering this whole thing was her idea. “Think we could make a detour to my place? Mom’s always going on about my future, and jobs, and whatnot, I bet she’d love this!” 

“Totally,” Aubrey mumbles, despite having absolutely no intention of actually doing that. 

About a minute or two later, Sunny finally returns from the back, having changed into his uniform he strolls over to the duo and gives Gino an expecting look, awaiting further instructions. He’s dressed mostly the same as they are, but his hat and apron are noticeably tidier, and he’s changed into a baggy, light grey shirt. Or at least, it looks baggy on him anyway, as with his jumper removed the true extent of his malnourishment has been made very apparent. 

Yet, despite the concerning implications of his appearance, Aubrey can’t help but think he still looks kind of cute in that uniform. 

‘Damn... I miss my boyfriend.’ 

It’s not the same—he’s not the same. Nothing here is. Every time she talks to someone, it’s like looking into a funhouse mirror. Everything is so similar, yet just slightly off , in all the ways that matter most. She’s been content distracting herself, allowing Sunny to drag them around town, pursuing all these odd jobs and random tasks, all because she dreaded this moment. The moment it finally dawns on her that despite being here nearly an entire day, she’s no closer to finding a way home. 

‘If there even is one.’ 

Aubrey lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, grateful that her friends didn’t notice her silent panic. 

“Alright kids, I’ll go grab the delivery bike, then you can all get to it,” Gino states. 

...Back to the distractions then. 

A loud whistle pierces through the silence of the plaza, souring Aubrey’s mood even further. She’d barely stepped out of the store, and already she was getting catcalled. 

‘Great...’ 

Looking around the plaza for whatever creep did it, her eyes eventually settle on—KIM?! 

“Hey! Looking good!” the delinquent yells, a smug smirk on her face. 

She’s sat off by the fountain, where Mikhael had his ass kicked barely an hour earlier, snacking on taffies with her brother, Vance. The older sibling rolls his eyes at his sister’s teasing, before suddenly flicking an empty taffy wrapper at her head, much to her annoyance.

At a glance, it’s kind of hard to see the relation between the two, Vance is an absolute unit of man, with a red flannel shirt and hair that’s curved up in a way that’s almost reminiscent of devil horns. His sister on the other hand, is much smaller, with a blue hoodie and hair that’s been shaved off on one side, leaving only the right side covered by a long brown combover. They couldn’t contrast more with each other if they actively tried to (which, now that Aubrey thinks about it, they very well may have). Still, there are some similarities, hair and skin colour for example. But compared to Mari and Sunny, or even Kel and Hero, the resemblance is much harder to spot. 

“Me?” Kel quizzes in response. 

“Wha—” Kim splutters, having switched focus from bickering with her brother. “No, obviously I was referring to knife boy,” she replies, sarcasm dripping from her every word. “Yeah, that uniform really brings out the soullessness in his eyes!” Much to Aubrey’s surprise Kim briefly frowns after her comment, before mumbling a curse under her breath and continuing. “...No offense,” she adds, sheepishly offering Sunny an ‘apology’. 

The raven-haired boy just shrugs in response, seemingly unphased by the jab. 

“Really?” Kel quizzes, oblivious as ever. “I mean, yeah, my bro’s the best! But I didn’t think he’d be your typ—” 

“Kel, she’s being sarcastic,” Aubrey explains with a sigh.

Although she would have actually agreed with Kim had she actually been genuine. He looks cute in that uniform. 

‘Christ I’m hopeless.’ 

“Oh,” Kel mumbles, his eyes widening as his eyebrow raises slightly. “Wait so you meant her ?” he asks, gesturing to Aubrey. 

“You didn’t have to phrase it like that Kel,” the pinkette grumbles. 

Seriously, he can be so tone-deaf! Why is it so shocking that Kim would find her attra— wait a second . 

“Yeah, it’s just a compliment dude,” Kim replies nonchalantly. 

“Sure, it is,” Vance mumbles, only to receive a swift punch to his right arm. “How are you three gonna fit on that bike anyway?” he asks, hissing slightly from his sister's dig. 

“We’re gonna go grab my bike,” Aubrey explains. 

“So, you’re going back to your place first?” Kim asks. “Bit of a trek y’know. The pizza might go cold.” 

“Yeah, so you should leave it with us!” Vance suggests with a laugh. 

His joke is lost on Aubrey sadly, as Kim’s question causes her another realisation. To get her bike... she’ll have to go home, back to that house, back to...

It seems silly now, but the thought of going back hadn’t even crossed her mind. Because that’s not her home, it never was really, it was just a rotting wooden prison poorly imitating a suburban domicile. Her home is the Flower residence, with its abundance of plant life, warm cosy atmosphere, and ceiling that doesn’t leak. Except... she doesn’t have that here. No, here she’s still stuck in that decaying liability they call a house. Of course, thinking more on it now, she was always going to have to go back. Even ignoring her promise to retrieve the photo album, the fact of the matter is, that is where she lives in this world. So, if she doesn’t go back, then she will have officially crossed the thin line between ‘basically homeless’ and actual homelessness. And something tells her that this universe isn’t much kinder to that kind of lifestyle. So yeah, she was going to have to go ‘home’ one way or another anyway, she just wishes it could wait a little longer. 

“Oi fr—blondie!” Kim shouts. “They run out of uniforms?” 

“O-Oh!” Basil stutters, having been caught off guard by the sudden attention. “N-No I’m just sitting this one out.” 

“Ah fair,” Kim mumbles. “How’s the truce going?” 

“N-No complaints so far.” 

“Cool.... wanna join us then?” 

Kim’s question takes everyone present off guard. Aubrey can barely believe her ears, Kel looks baffled, Vance’s cigarette falls from his mouth as he gives his sister a confused, questioning stare, and even Sunny raises his brow slightly. 

“W-What?” Basil asks. 

Unsurprisingly, he looks the most shocked out of them all. If she wasn’t expecting that, then he most definitely wasn’t. Aubrey can’t help but wonder what Kim’s angle is here, she’d like to think the delinquent will uphold the truce and leave Basil alone, but she doesn’t know her well enough to feel certain about that. Truthfully, she has no idea what Kim is thinking here; maybe she wants to make amends? Aubrey can understand that feeling at least. 

‘Except you didn’t do the things you apologised for.’ 

“These nerds are gonna be a while,” Kim explains casually. “So I figured you could hang with us until you get back. Besides—” she continues, adjusting her red glasses slightly, “—I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

That last bit sounded pretty ominous, but Aubrey can’t deny that it’s true. These two have a lot of history and pretty much all of it is disastrous, so talking it out could help, or it could just make things worse... she’s not sure which outcome is more likely.

Upon hearing Kim’s words, Basil immediately looks over to her, clearly desperate for advice, but unsure of what to say the pinkette just gives him an unhelpful shrug of her shoulders instead. 

“I—w-well... okay?” Basil eventually responds, sounding about as hesitant as is humanly possible. 

“Sick,” Kim replies, before glancing over at the rest of them. “Don’t you guys have work?” 

‘Shit.’ Her house is ages from here, and she really doesn’t want to go back there anyway but what else— ‘Oh... jackpot! ’ 

Her eyes have landed on the delinquent’s shiny, silver scooters, leaned up against the fountain's edge and perfect for getting around town. Sure, they might be slower than a bike but there’s two of them and that beats sharing a seat with Kel, and going home. 

“Hey, Kim? Vance?” Aubrey starts, still eyeing up the parked scooters. “Mind doing us a favour?” 

“Ah, thank you so much!” the customer exclaims. 

“No worries,” Aubrey replies, passing the pizza over to the woman. 

Never in her life has she been more grateful for those long hours at Gino’s, because without them she has no idea how she would have ever gotten through this shift. Gino’s handwriting is chicken-scratch, barely legible gibberish that, had she not had months of exposure to, she would find near impossible to decipher. She briefly wonders how Kel and Sunny are getting along with their deliveries, whilst simultaneously cursing Gino for not keeping a proper record of customer addresses. But hey, she did it! This is the last house on the list, and so, in a second she’ll be finished for the day and free to do... well, whatever weird distraction Sunny drags them into next.

In hindsight, they should have probably established a rendezvous point. The plaza seems like the obvious meeting place, especially considering they ditched poor Basil there, but Kel isn’t always the most deductive fellow, so she probably should have spelled that out to him. The same goes for that slip-up with Basil earlier, she’ll almost certainly have to explain to him why she’s keeping the truth under wraps at some point. Oh! And ask him what exactly she’s supposed to be acting like whilst she's at it, because everyone she ‘knows’ here keeps staring at her like she’s grown a second head!

“Say,” the woman starts just as Aubrey is about to leave. “Aren’t you meant to have a bike?” she asks, gesturing to Kim’s scooter. 

“Uhhh,” Aubrey stammers. “We’ve got a shortage?” 

The lady’s face furrows as she squints at the pinkette, almost like she’s trying to stare into Aubrey’s very soul. After a second of intent staring, a look of recognition flashes across the woman’s face, followed immediately by one of deep rage. Her features narrow in anger, causing Aubrey to instinctively take a step back. 

“Wait a minute!” the woman shouts, stepping out onto her porch with clenched fists. “You’re the brat who smashed my mailbox in!” 

‘God damn it other me! ’ 

“S-Sorry I think you’ve got the wrong person!” Aubrey replies in a panic. 

She’s not even lying to the woman, but she’s also not sticking around to explain that to her. Rushing to the scooter and riding off on it as fast as she can, Aubrey doesn’t stop moving until the woman’s shouting becomes a distant muffle. 

Eventually, she comes to a stop on a random street corner, parking the scooter under the shade of a nearby tree. Taking a seat on the curb she takes a second to catch her breath and— 

“ARGH!” she screams in frustration, slamming her fist against the pavement, only to hiss at the immediate stinging pain that follows. “God damn... stupid...” she grumbles. 

Why is she like this?! A few things went awry, and so what? She had to terrorise the whole bloody town?! She wants to separate herself from her counterpart but that’s becoming increasingly difficult with every encounter she has here. People look at her and they see the other her, there’s no difference to them, and right now, she’s struggling to find one herself. 

They’re the same person. Even if she wishes they weren’t. Had things gone wrong for her, then she would have ended up like this. Bitter, alone, hated by the entire town, and seemingly revelling in that fact. She hates that, she hates being here, she hates all of this... she hates herself. 

“Sup Aub—woah! You okay?” Kel’s concerned voice is accompanied by the screeching of wheels as his scooter abruptly comes to a halt in front of her.  

She imagines Vance wouldn’t be too thrilled to see his property going through such an ordeal but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him she supposes. 

“I’m just... I’m just tired Kel,” Aubrey confesses with a sigh. 

“Oh! I get you there dude, these scooters are—” 

“NO!” she barks, her frustrations surfacing once again. “No! For fu—I’m tired of this Kel! Of all of this!” she clarifies, curling in on herself as she hugs her legs, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I just want to go home...” she whimpers into the sleeve of her hoodie. 

Slowly and methodically, Kel wordlessly parks his borrowed scooter next to her own, its wheels scrapping against the pavement as he does so, before finally taking a seat on the curb next to her. He doesn’t speak, not immediately anyway, for once in his life he seems to be giving his next words some actual thought. And when he does finally speak up, what he says surprises her. 

“I’m sorry,” Kel mumbles softly. 

“W-What?” Aubrey mumbles, confused by his sudden apology. 

“I’m sorry you got stuck here,” he clarifies, giving her a sympathetic look. “And I’m sorry I dragged you into this... I just wanted Sunny to have a good time and... I missed you, y’know,” he admits sheepishly. “I know we used to fight a lot but... you were one my best friends and I know you’re not her but—” 

Aubrey finds herself hugging him before she’s even aware she’s doing it. He freezes in her tight embrace, obviously caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, but as she sniffles into his shoulder, staining his jersey with her tears, he slowly but surely reciprocates the hug.

They stay like that for a while, Aubrey’s not sure how long exactly, but when they eventually part, a wave of embarrassment hits her like a truck. She can’t believe she just did that; she barely knows this guy! Even if he was the Kel she knows from back home, she still wouldn’t want him seeing her like this! Sure, it was cathartic, but now she just feels embarrassed!

Oh well, at least Kel doesn’t seem too bothered by it. 

“You still smell,” she jokes between sniffles. 

“Hey! No I don—” he goes to protest before stopping to sniff his armpit. “...Aw man.” 

They both laugh for a bit and for a brief moment, everything feels normal again. They really are the same people deep down. Sure, this Kel might have baggage the one she knows doesn’t, but at his core he’s the same person. As annoying as he is loveable. Not that she’ll ever tell him that of course! But... well, she has a feeling he already knows. 

‘Christ, I’m getting this sappy with Kel of all people, the world really must be ending,’ she thinks to herself, chuckling a little at the thought. 

“Not a word about this,” she warns jokingly. 

“You kidding? I’m sure Kim would love to hear all about this,” he teases in response. 

She just rolls her eyes at his comment, allowing a comfortable silence to fall over them. Taking a second to look at her surroundings, she finds some comfort in the familiar suburbs. Sure, this town hasn’t always been the best to her, but there is a subtle beauty to it. The summer sun shining through the trees, the white fences and pretty front gardens of the town’s nicer properties, even the distant sound of children playing, it’s nostalgic, comforting even. For all its issues, Faraway will always be home to her, no matter what universe she’s in. 

“Where do you think Sunny is?” she asks, finally breaking the quiet. 

“Think he had a couple of deliveries left,” Kel replies. “Oh! And he went to go give that old lady her prescription.” 

Oh, of course, she was wondering when he’d find the time for that. Truthfully, they’ve been so busy today that she can barely keep track of all the things they’ve done together. They were fun distractions but in an ironic twist of fate, she was too distracted by her current predicament to properly process a lot of them. 

‘Distracted from my distractions... that’s a tongue twister.’ 

“That’s nice,” Aubrey mumbles, before raising her eyebrows in confusion. “Wait how’d you even figure that out? He doesn’t talk?” 

“Guess I’m just good at reading him,” Kel shrugs. 

Now that is a lie. Aubrey doesn’t doubt Kel can read Sunny, even after all their years apart. But she is literally dating the boy and she’s still struggling to understand this version of him. So, she highly doubts Kel is being honest with here her.  

“Dude, I see him like every day , and even I can’t read him like this,” she deadpans in response. “So be honest with me here.” 

“Okay... I bumped into him, and he just pointed to the prescription,” the tan teen confesses with a sigh.  

‘Was that so difficult? ’ 

Calling his bluff was probably a bit rude, but forgive a girl for being a little insecure. She’d like to think she understood her boyfriend just a little bit better than someone who usually struggles with basic social cues. Even if her ‘boyfriend’ in this scenario is actually not her boyfriend and instead a silent, almost certainly depressed, variant of him... Okay, maybe she should have just let Kel’s comment slide. 

“By the way, are you...” Kel hesitates for a second. “Are you two a thing in your world?” 

Wow. Clearly, she has been way too harsh on Kel’s intelligence here. The man may struggle with sarcasm, but clearly, he can read between the lines because she was not expecting him to guess that. 

“How the hell did you—” 

“The way you talk about him... you sound like Mari,” he says, with a reminiscent smile on his face and underlying melancholy to his words. “Heh, I still can’t believe how oblivious Hero was,” he adds with a laugh, breaking whatever tension was building from his previous comment. “She was so obvious!” 

She really was... 

Pretty much everyone in the group thought they were already a couple back in the day, but nope! It wasn’t until Hero’s eighteenth birthday that they actually made it official. She still remembers the glare Mr Suzuki gave Hero that night, as his daughter kissed her newly declared boyfriend under the light of the New Year’s fireworks. That was the happiest she had seen Mari since before the accident. 

“She asked him out in the end y’know,” Aubrey says, a sad smile creeping across her face. “In my world I mean. Asked him out on his birthday and kissed him at the firework display,” she adds with a quiet laugh. “Her Dad was fuming; if looks could kill a man, then I swear Hero wouldn’t have lived long enough to graduate.” 

Even all the glares she’s received from that man can’t compete with the sheer loathing he had for Hero that night. Though she’s pretty sure, deep down, Mr Suzuki does like Hero, to some extent at least. Mari has insisted she’s caught him giving the boy an approving look or two in the past. 

‘A treatment you certainly haven’t received.’ 

Shaking the thought away, it suddenly occurs to her that Kel isn’t laughing along with her, not even offering her a sad smile or anything. No, instead he looks rather... nervous. 

“Heh... I... maybe don’t tell Hero about that,” her friend suggests, fidgeting nervously with the fabric of his jersey. “I don’t think he’d take it well.” 

“Oh, I see... well, I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” 

“Actually—that reminds me,” Kel starts, quickly casting his apparent nervousness aside. “Basil and Sunny... you’re not telling them? Like about any of this?” 

There it is. The question she’s been preparing to answer for the past hour or so. She owes him a proper explanation, and luckily, she feels pretty confident in her reasoning. She just hopes he feels the same.

“I don’t want to freak Basil out,” she explains, frowning as she continues. “And Sunny... I know you haven’t seen him in... years, but you’ve noticed right?” she asks. “How thin he is, how pale, how... lifeless?” The downcast expression on her friend’s face is all the response she needs. “I don’t want to drop this on them Kel. Maybe later, but not now. They have enough going on as is.” 

“I think I get you,” he murmurs in response. 

“Good.” 

Following her explanation and the morbid connotations surrounding it, the pair once again fall into silence, although this time the quiet is a lot more awkward. Almost unwillingly, Aubrey’s mind begins to wander, as she reflects on what she just said. Was she too manipulative? Was hinting at Sunny and Basil’s poor mental state simply a justification for avoiding a difficult conversation? Does Kel truly agree with her? Or is he just afraid or losing a friendship he’s finally restored? Is she overthinking this or— 

“You gonna ask Sunny out though?” 

Kel is just a bundle of surprises today, because of all the things he could have said next, Aubrey was NOT expecting that. 

“W-WHAT?! NO???” she cries in response. 

Where did that even come from? What part of ‘I’m worried about my friend’s mental state’ indicated she wanted to cheat on her boyfriend... with her boyfriend... wait would that even be cheating? It’s still him after all so—WAIT NO! She should NOT be considering this! Not even slightly! 

‘Damn it, Kel! Quit screwing with my head! It’s messed up enough as is! ’  

“Why not? You’re a thing in your world, he probably likes you here too,” Kel replies casually. “And I guess that means the other you would like him too. So, it’s a win-win!” 

‘Except I doubt my counterpart would approve of me dating him! Especially if she does like him too! ’ 

Also, she’s read a lot of Spaceboy, and this whole mess is eerily similar to the plot of issue one-forty-nine! And in that story, there were literally infinite universes! It presented an endless multiverse of possibilities, filled with an incomprehensible number of worlds—some nearly identical to each other, others impossibly different. So, who’s to say her feelings are the same in this universe, or his for that matter! It’s a complicated situation and one she’s best avoiding. Besides, Sunny needs a therapist, not a girlfriend! 

‘But what do you need? What do YOU want? ’ 

“Dude there are so many issues with what you just said that I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” she explains with a groan, a faint blush involuntarily spreading across her cheeks. 

“But—” Kel goes to object. 

“No.” 

“Dude—” 

“Nope.” 

“Just hear me ou—” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“It’s a good—” 

“PIZZA DELIVERY!!!”  

The familiar voice echoes through the otherwise quiet streets of Faraway, interrupting Kel before she has the chance to do so herself. But that’s not the important thing here, no, what’s important is who that voice belongs to, because she’d recognise it anywhere. 

“Sunny?” she murmurs, thinking aloud. 

Sure enough, looking around, she spots Sunny delivering to the house opposite where they’re sat. By the looks of it, that’s his final stop too. 

“Yo Sunny! Over here!” Kel calls out, quickly catching the raven-haired boy's attention. 

The pair rise from the spot on the curb as Sunny quickly cycles over, coming to a halt just in front of the duo. 

“Hey Sun,” Aubrey smiles, reeling from her heavy conversation with Kel, but still happy to see him again. “How’d the deliveries go?” 

Predictably, Sunny just shrugs in response. 

‘Guess him talking was a one-off then.’ 

She should probably be offended he chose to speak to random strangers and not them, but honestly, she doesn’t have the energy for that right now. Besides, it’s almost kind of funny... in like, a weird sort of way. 

“I get you there Sunny,” Kel replies, sounding surprisingly exasperated. “Some customers are so rude! They just grab the pizza and don’t even thank you!” 

... 

‘Did he... oh my god.’  

He got the wrong house—scratch that, houses. Man, that is coming right out of his paycheck.

Aubrey stares at Kel for a second, before glancing over at Sunny who meets her eyes, clearly doing a double take of his own, having likely come to the same conclusion. 

“Kel... you—actually no. No, this one isn’t on you.” 

It’s not his fault Gino writes in hieroglyphs, she’s struggled to read his notes in the past and honestly, she still does sometimes. So, she can’t exactly pin this one on Kel. She just hopes he’s not too bummed about the reduced pay. 

“Uhhh cool?” Kel replies, oblivious to what he’s done wrong. 

“Whatever,” Aubrey sighs. “Let’s just go. Basil is probably getting antsy anyway.” 

Ideally, he’ll be perfectly fine and the delinquent siblings she’s left him with will have warmed up to him. But something tells her that won’t be the case. She has no idea what Kim’s planning here, but she hopes it’s nothing sinister, elsewise she’ll... she’ll... 

‘Huh... I didn’t really think this out.’ 

Looks like she’ll just have to hope Kim respects truces. 

It might sound foolish, but Aubrey had kind of hoped the money here would be different—maybe a different politician or president stamped on the bills, something, anything other than what she’s used to. But alas, as she looks over the stack of notes she got from Gino, it’s the same cash as back home.

It’s an instinctive behaviour, this habit of searching for differences between this world and her own. She’s not even sure why she's doing it. Maybe a part of her believes that finding a change—one that isn’t tied to her friend group—would make it easier to separate herself from her counterpart. Not that it would matter much if that was the case; you can only seperate yourself from someone so much when they share a near-identical history and appearence to you.

“Enjoying payday?” Kim calls out, before popping another taffy into her mouth. 

“Hardly,” Kel grumbles in response. 

His wad of cash is notably smaller than her and Sunny’s, mainly because he managed to get more than half of his deliveries robbed and Gino did not take very kindly to that. Then what little pay Kel had left was immediately taxed by Sunny, who Kel was apparently indebted to. She has no clue how he already managed to get himself into debt, mere hours after reuniting with his childhood friend, but Aubrey is way too tired to question that right now. Besides, it was pretty funny watching his stack quickly shrink over the course of a minute. 

“Did you pay for those?” Kel asks, eyeing up the delinquent's candy stash. 

“Is that a joke?” Kim replies, seemingly baffled by the mere suggestion of her having paid for the taffy. 

“Not sure what you e-expected Kel,” Basil adds. 

“Yeah, that was a pretty dumb question dude,” Vance agrees. 

Aubrey was not expecting her pipedream, best case scenario to actually happen, but when they finally got back to the plaza, sure enough, Basil was chatting with the delinquents, seemingly having a good time. He definitely looked nervous, maybe even a little uncomfortable, but from what she saw, the trio seemed to be getting along pretty well all things considered. 

“Et tu Basil? We leave you alone for five minutes and you turn traitor!” Kel scoffs in mock offence. 

“It’s been an hour,” the flower boy deadpans in response, before raising his brow in suspicion. “And I’m s-surprised you made that reference. I didn’t take you as a h-history buff.” 

“Mom’s been on my back about my grades,” the brown-haired boy replies with a shrug. 

“I feel you there,” Kim remarks with a groan. “I missed one deadline and that prick Mr Igneo starts threatening to keep me back a year!” 

“At least he didn’t go through with it,” Vance notes, offering his sister a more positive outlook on her situation. 

“Tell that to Mom,” she retorts with a frown. “She’s been holding that over me all Summer,” she adds with a grumble. 

“Be glad we’re going Dad’s place then,” her brother counters with a small shrug. 

Ah, divorced parents. Yeah, that explains a lot, actually... Wait—that sounds horrible. But to be fair, when her old man bailed on her, Aubrey wanted nothing more than to tear up the entire damn town. She didn’t of course, but she can’t really blame the siblings for acting out. 

‘Acting out? Christ, you’re condescending. Don’t get too judgy, in this world, you did go through with your little tantrum.’ 

Whatever, all that really matters here is that Basil is getting along with the siblings. That being said, he didn’t seem too thrilled about being ditched for a whole hour. Truthfully, she didn’t even realise they had been gone that long, but she should probably still apologise to him nonetheless. 

“Sorry for the wait Basil,” Aubrey apologises. “Didn’t think it’d take that long.” 

In hindsight, having a breakdown of the side of the curb may have had something to do with that. Then again, Sunny’s last delivery was right after she was done sobbing her eyes out, so they probably would have been late either way. 

“N-No worries... I actually had a p-pretty good time,” the blonde replies.  

His tone is conflicted, it’s mostly earnest, but there’s an underlying confusion to it. But that makes perfect sense, his bullies, people who spent the past few years harassing him on ‘her’ behalf, seemingly changed their whole attitude towards him on a whim, she’d be more surprised if he wasn’t at least a little conflicted about it. 

“Don’t get sappy on us Bas,” Kim laughs. “Get it? Sappy? ...Christ, I sound like Mikhael.” The despair on the delinquent’s face is palpable. “Whatever,” she continues, quickly moving past her brief existential crisis. “Yeah that was pretty chill, yer good company Bas," she agrees, before fixing Aubrey with a mischevious grin. "He tells a good story too y'know."

Aubrey does not like the way she phrased that.

"Should I be worried?" she asks, giving Kim a sceptical look.

"Nah, it's fine~" the delinquent replies, her smug smile doing little to reasurre the pinkette.

"Right... well, we should probably get going now.” 

“Eh, that’s fair. Honestly, I’m surprised you guys are still out and about,” Kim remarks. 

“Why?” the pinkette asks in response, genuinely confused by her comment. 

As if on que, the distant sound of the Church bell rings out across town, it’s familiar chiming filling the otherwise quiet streets of Faraway and causing Aubrey’s eyes to widen in realisation. 

‘The sermon... shit.’ 

“That’s why,” Kim states. 

With everything that’s been happening to her today, she’d completely forgotten that the mass was on today. Cursing under her breath, Aubrey resolves to set off to the Church as soon as possible. She’s been going there for years now, she’s yet to miss a sermon, and universal switch-up be damned, she’s not missing one today. 

“Ah,” Aubrey replies plainly. “I should probably get going,” she adds. "You guys wanna tag along?” she asks, addressing her friends. 

“Uhhh,” Basil murmurs. “I-I’m not sur—” 

Sunny interjects Basil’s stammering by shooting her another simple thumbs up, causing Aubrey to smile a little at the sight. 

“If Sunny’s down, then sure!” Kel grins. “Didn’t think you were the Church type though,” he notes. 

Ignoring Kel’s comment, she looks over to Basil, who is clearly on the fence about joining. She goes to tell him he doesn’t need to join if he doesn’t want to, but before she can even utter the first word, he suddenly speaks up again. 

“W-Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” he mumbles, rising from his spot by the delinquents and rejoining their group. 

It’s not exactly the most enthusiastic answer, and honestly, it doesn’t quite sit well with Aubrey. But at the same time, this world is unfamiliar and unfriendly, and the adults don’t seem too enthusiastic about her presence. So, the more friendly faces she has with her, the better. 

“Kim? Vance?” she asks, turning back to look at the delinquent siblings. 

“Pass,” they respond at the same time. 

“Fair enough,” Aubrey shrugs. “Alright, you guys ready to get going?” 

Not hearing any disagreements, she takes the lead and prepares to set off towards the Church. She hasn’t told them all yet, but she’s going to visit Mari after the sermon finishes. She hopes they’ll tag along, but she’ll go alone if need be. She needs to see that grave with her own eyes, until she has, she’ll never truly accept this reality. 

“Hey!” Kim suddenly yells after them. “Before you go!” she adds, throwing over a half-empty bag of taffy to Basil. 

The flower boy just barely manages to catch it, clutching it tightly in his shaky hands, he glances over at Kim, giving her an incredulous, yet undeniably grateful look. 

“That's for the gossip! Now get lost!” she shouts, avoiding the blonde’s gaze. “Before I change my mind!” 

“I already have,” Vance pouts, clearly upset about the lost sweets. 

The whole scene forces another smile from Aubrey, alleviating the tension caused by thinking about Mari’s grave. She’s thought about this a few times now, but Kim is actually a pretty alright person beneath that rough exterior. That being said, she will need to interrogate Basil about their conversation though, because she does not care for the look she was giving her. But that will have to come later, they've got a sermon to attend. 

“You heard her Bas,” Aubrey smirks. “Time to get lost.” 

Chapter Text

It’s kind of funny, after all the strange and bizarre things Aubrey has been through today, it’s a freaking door of all things that stops her in her tracks. 

She fought her fears and anxieties, survived a whole day in another universe, reassembled a friend group long thought to be shattered, and yet, somehow, none of those hardships seemed as daunting as the door before her.  

It’s not even like it’s particularly remarkable, there are no engravings or similarly noteworthy details. No, it’s simply a large, wooden double door, painted in plain white just like the rest of the church. Although, much like the rest of the building’s exterior, this paint job has faded somewhat with the passage of time, revealing more of the wooden texture beneath it. Tracing her fingers across the panel reveals all the same grooves and cracks she remembers from back home—well not remembers, that would imply she spent enough time rubbing up the church doors to recognise them by touch.  

No, it’s just... familiar . 

The whole church is really. Which makes sense, at a glance it looks exactly like the one from her world. But Aubrey knows there’s one key difference between the two, and that’s the engraving on a tombstone at the very back of the premises. 

One might assume that knowing what awaits her in the graveyard would be reassuring to an extent. As if knowing the horrific difference between her world and this on arrival for once would somehow lessen the inevitable blow. It’s not reassuring of course, not even remotely. If anything, it might have somehow made this trip of hers even more daunting. And well, she has been silently staring at this door for a solid minute now, so that might explain that. 

“A-Aubrey?” Basil’s shaky voice interrupts her meandering thoughts, all but demanding she do something other than stare at this stupid door. 

A part of Aubrey is surprised Basil was the one to pull her out of her disassociation, she figured Kel would have simply gotten bored after the first twenty seconds of standing around and simply barged into the church himself. But then again, he did prove earlier that he’s not always a total idiot. So yeah, out of the small list of candidates, Basil would make the most sense; she didn’t delude herself for a second into thinking that Sunny would speak up—hell! He’s probably glad to be standing still for a bit, the man’s been running around Faraway like a headless chicken all day! 

Pausing briefly to ponder if Sunny has somehow been using four years' worth of energy over the course of this afternoon, it suddenly dawns on Aubrey that she has yet to reply to Basil. Too embarrassed to face him and too tired to reply, she simply takes a deep breath and focuses on the task before her. Reaching her hand out towards the door, she grasps its handle (with more force than intended), and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, finally opens it. Grimacing slightly as the loud squeaking of its hinges disturbs the silence of the church hall, Aubrey hesitantly steps inside and finds herself almost instantly regretting her decision. 

The interior of the building is in stark contrast to the exterior. While the outside looked plain and pale, the inside is much grander in appearance. With ornate white pillars in almost every corner, golden chandelier lights hanging from the ceiling, yellow bouquets in engraved stone planters, lining the ruby-red carpet that stretches all the way to the alter. The evening sun’s light shines through the magnificent stained-glass windows, bathing the hall in a warm, orange hue, that would usually look appealing but instead adds to the pinkette’s growing unease. 

As it is not the beauty of the church’s interior that grabs Aubrey’s attention at first, nor is it the contrast between it and the exterior.  

No, it’s the eyes . 

The second she opened the front door a dozen eyes turned to glare at her. Most of them simply rolled in their sockets, before the refocusing on the Preacher, but a few lingered on her a little bit longer, their gazes harsh and judgemental. She’s had this before of course, most of the Churchgoers back home were also incredibly sceptical of her at first, and a few even outright hated her for the longest time. But they did eventually warm up to her... well, most of them did at least. Evidently, that is not the case here. 

The Preacher is the only person who shows her anything close to sympathy, his eyes occasionally casting her an apologetic glance. Mercifully, he doesn’t linger on her for long; the last thing she wants right now is more attention.  

A second passes and now only a couple of especially bitter eyes remain on her. Sick of their staring, Aubrey silently takes a seat at the nearest pew, followed closely by her friends. She’s certain they’re already having regrets about joining her, and honestly, she can’t blame them. Still, she’s glad they’re here, even if they’re quiet their mere presence is enough of a comfort to help her get through this. 

As they take their seats, Aubrey can’t help but feel a sudden, strange wave of deja'vu. She’s fairly certain she hasn’t sat in this pew before, it’s quite far back and rather uncomfortable too, yet it feels so... right. Like she'd been sitting here for years.

Sighing, she closes her eyes, zoning out from the Preacher’s speech as she begins to pray. 

‘ Hopefully, Kel will have enough common sense to not start small talk in the middle of a sermon .’ 

Aubrey would say most of Faraway is religious by default.  

Like, if she asked some random person in town if they believed in God, then the odds are that they would say yes. Yet, she’s certain half of them would not be caught dead actually attending church. On the opposite end of the spectrum are people like the Baker family, folks who believe in and follow the good book to a T, never skipping a sermon and doing their very best to follow the principles of their faith. 

Aubrey probably falls somewhere between the two groups. Her parents weren’t exactly the most faithful, so she wasn’t raised religious, not really anyway, and Faraway High certainly didn’t push her in that direction either. No, she just kind of... stumbled into it. 

She went to church once with her mother and from there it just became a habit. There was just something comforting about the idea of God, the idea that behind all the chaos of her life there was some higher power, some great guiding hand that whilst seemingly cold, in reality, cared more for her than any human could.  

That idea feels a lot less appealing right now though. 

If God is real, then they are a cruel bastard, and if they’re not, then she is simply at the will of an uncaring universe, and all this pain, this bizarre, cosmic shakeup of her life, is happening simply because it can. Because in an infinite uni— multiverse , anything can and therefore will happen. Truthfully, she’s not sure which option is more terrifying. Because if this is the work of some higher power then... 

‘ Who have I been praying to? ’ 

And if it’s not then... what? This is happening to her for no reason? She’s just the victim of a cosmic impossibility, an insane occurrence that would drive most mad from the implications alone? If that’s the case, then how many times has this happened? How many raving madmen throughout history have just been unfortunate souls like her? Displaced by forces beyond their understanding and stranded in unfamiliar worlds. 

The fact of the matter is, there’s no good answer here, cruel god or uncaring universe, the only thing Aubrey knows for certain is that she’s stuck here. There was no portal, magic wardrobe, or anything she would really associate with something as cartoonish as freaking universe hopping . No, she just went to bed and woke up here, and whilst a part of her hopes she’ll simply wake up back home tomorrow, she has a sinking feeling that’s not going to happen. 

“Shit...” she impulsively curses under her breath. 

‘ There’s no way back home; Mari, Sunny, Basil, Kel, Hero, they’re all there and you’re stuck her — ’ 

‘ No! No, there has to be a way back! ’ she rationalises, trying and failing to push back the sudden surge of panic she’s experiencing. 

There’s got to be something that can help her! A magic book, a tear in reality —anything! She’s in another universe! Nothing is off the table here! Be it magic or sci-fi nonsense, surely, surely , there’s something she can use to get home. 

‘ Keep telling yourself that .’ 

Clenching the fabric of her jeans, Aubrey takes a deep breath and attempts to clear her head. This sermon was meant to calm her down but instead, she’s spiralling faster than ever! Out there she was going from activity to activity, conversation to conversation, but here? Here, she’s alone with her thoughts, stuck in silence pondering the very nature of her existence, trapped in a place she’s clearly not welcome. 

‘ Just like this town. Just like this world .’  

“Shut up,” she whines, clutching her hair as she’s hit by a sudden, piercing headache. 

She shouldn’t be too surprised; she’d felt the dull throb of a headache creeping in more than once throughout the day, mainly when dealing with her friends and learning more about this messed up world. But it never got this bad before; right now, it feels like someone is drilling their way through her skull. 

“Aubs?” Kel’s concerned voice calls out. 

He vocalised his worry a bit too loudly however, as a couple of heads in the pews in front of them turn to express their disapproval. One especially irate churchgoer even going so far as to shush the tan teen, causing him to frown and Aubrey to scowl as her migraine worsens. 

“Hey, I’m checking on my friend!” Kel snaps back. “Aubs? Aubs?! Come on man, what’s wrong?” 

‘ Why is this happening?'

Were she not already sitting, Aubrey is certain she would have fallen to her knees by now, that’s how bad it hurts. It feels like her head has been lined with barbed wire, and that wire is being slowly ripped out of her forehead one brutal, burning inch at a time. 

Forcing herself to acknowledge Kel, she finally turns to look at her friends. Sunny is sitting right next to her, Kel is to his left, and Basil is all the way at the end of the pew, the furthest spot from her... 

They all look worried, with even Sunny having a slight furrow to his brow. Instinctively, she reaches out and grabs his hand, clenching it for a sense of support. To her surprise, after a second of hesitation, he returns the gesture, giving her hand a small but reassuring squeeze. 

“This is hardly the place—” the churchgoer—an elderly woman Aubrey notes—goes to protest. 

“Hardly the— hardly the place? ” Kel repeats, clearly baffled. “Dude, she’s upset! Don’t be such a jerk!” 

His volume rises and so too does his opponent’s, they bicker back and forth, more and more eyes turning to them, turning to Aubrey , as the arguing continues. 

“Man, you are like the worst! ” the tan teen says, his tone more observational than insulting. 

“Why, I never!” the woman replies indignantly. “The youth these days—is it not bad enough we have to stomach one delinquent? Don’t any of you have somewhere better to be?!” she adds, glaring at Aubrey. 

They’re all looking now, looking at her ; the woman, the other Churchgoers, her friends, even the Preacher himself has halted his sermon to glance over. All eyes are on her, inspecting her, judging her—it’s unbearable, like the world itself is dissecting her for all to see. 

She can hear their chattering too, it’s quiet, almost entirely drowned out by Kel’s argument, but it’s still there, even if just barely audible. 

“Her again?” one voice scoffs. 

“Why do they even let her in here?” another asks. 

“—dragging others down with her, just shocking behaviour honestly,” the first voice remarks, already mid-conversation. “What are their parents teaching them?” 

“It is a tragedy; ever since her father left—” 

‘Dad...’  

Aubrey’s grip tightens around Sunny’s hand, drawing a sharp hiss of pain from him. She drops it instantly, as though it had scorched her skin, before going to apologise. The words die in her mouth however as she sees the hurt look on his face. 

‘You hurt everyone you claim to love.’  

The whispers might as well be yells now, her head is pounding, and the hall of the Church is booming with chatter. Kel is still bickering, the woman in front of them is growing increasingly irate, and the Preacher is still stood in place, clearly hesitant to act. 

“Such dreadful behaviour. And at church of all places?” 

“Arguing with a child? Really Helen?” 

“Please! He’s unruly, what do you expect from that lot?” 

“Exactly! About time someone said something!” 

Cruel or apathetic, vindictive or dismissive, it doesn’t matter. Their murmurs mix into a cacophony of hate, and it’s all directed at her. 

“I’m saying , you don’t belong here and neither does she!” 

“Wha—you suck dude!” Kel spits, not even trying to hide his anger. “What happened to love thy neighbour?!” 

“ Thy neighbour isn’t usually such a nuisance!” 

“Say that again,” Kel practically growls, his voice oozing with uncharacteristic venom. 

“K-Kel? Maybe we should g-go," Basil pleads, his nervous eyes darting around the room, clearly aware of all the attention on them. 

“What? Why—oh...” Kel mumbles, his face paling slightly as he finally notices all the eyes upon them. “S-Sorry,” he calls out to the Preacher. 

“It’s... fine,” the man mumbles in response, clearly unsure of how to handle this situation. 

Aubrey hears all this unfurl but she pays it no mind. She’s too distracted by the pounding in her head and the mumblings in the hall. It’s like the voices have doubled in volume, she only catches the odd word and occasional comment, but she knows they’re all directed at her. Some sound like they’re being whispered right into her ears, others sound more... distant , like echoes on the wind. All of them sting, like a thousand tiny daggers stabbing at her very soul. 

“Thief.” 

“Bad influence.” 

“Delinquent.” 

‘ That’s not me, you don’t know me .’ 

“Godless.” 

“Bully.” 

“Pest.” 

‘Stop, please, just stop... I haven’t even done anything! ’ 

“Disgrace.” 

“Menace.” 

“Hooligan.” 

‘ Shut up, just shut up! ’ 

“They should be ashamed!” 

“Not my place to judge, I will leave that to the lord.” 

“I just wanted to relax...” 

‘ And you think I didn’t?! I didn’t want this! I didn’t want ANY of this! I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE! ’ 

“—at her clothing.”  

“—completely inappropriate.”  

“—a weapon?!”  

“—cares? Mari’s dea—”  

“ SHUT UP! ” Aubrey screams, slamming her fists onto the pew in front of her, instantly silencing the entire procession. “Just shut... up...” she mumbles, her voice cracking slightly as her headache finally subsides. 

“A-Aubrey...” Basil murmurs with wide, horrified eyes.  

He’s the only one brave enough to speak, no one else dares to utter a word, they just stare at her with a mix of shock, awe, and fear. 

Clarity hits her like a tonne of bricks; without the throbbing pain of her headache or the endless insults whispered by the churchgoers, she’s left in a deafening silence, alone once again with her thoughts, and the painful realisation of what she’s just done. 

‘ I cursed out the whole procession... ’ 

Her friends stare at her with a mix of worry and horror. They look as lost as she feels, desperate for direction, for answers she doesn’t have. 

“Aubrey,” Kel starts hesitantly. “Are you —”  

She’s barging her way out of the pew before she even realises she is. Her friends protest, Kel even makes a weak attempt to grab her hand, but she carries on forward, storming down the aisle, all eyes still focused on her. She brushes past the Preacher, catching the slight flinch in his posture as she does so.  

Then, without any of the hesitation she felt earlier, she rushes over to the back exit, her hand quickly finding the doorknob, which she turns in one swift motion, throwing the door open and stepping out into the graveyard. 

Aubrey wanders through the graveyard like a zombie, which is rather fitting given the locale, but she doesn’t have time to appreciate the humour in her situation. No, she’s only got one thing on her mind right now. 

‘ Mari... ’ 

The sermon was a disaster she doesn’t even want to think about, but if she can... if she can do this , then maybe this trip wasn’t a total waste of time. 

In contrast to the storm raging inside her, the cemetery is remarkably bright, the warm light of the sun bringing life to a place otherwise devoid of it. Rows of graves are lined up almost like a battalion of stone soldiers, or an expecting crowd, each engraving practically screaming for attention as Aubrey passes by. She glances at each one she goes; some names are familiar, but most are not, and none of them are who she’s looking for. 

“Rough day?” a hoarse but friendly voice calls out, stopping Aubrey in her tracks. 

Turning around, she’s greeted by a smiling old man, with a dark complexion that contrasts his snowy white hair and beard. He’s dressed in baggy, black pants and an indigo jacket with a name tag that reads ‘Beardy’. 

“Old Beardy,” Aubrey greets, finally recognising the grave keeper. 

She’s seen him around the church a few times back home, but she doesn’t really know much about him, other than his (rather fitting) name that is. He always struck her as the eccentric type, but he seems chill enough. Besides, he’s the first adult here to treat her with a shred of decency so that’s gotta count for something. 

“I’m not that old kid! Don’t see with the spirits yet, do ya? GWAHAHAHA!” the man chortles in response. “Jokes aside, you don’t look so well kid, something on your mind?” 

“What makes you say that?” Aubrey asks in turn, slightly annoyed by his presumptions. 

“...You’re cryin’ kid.” 

Reaching a hand up to her cheek reveals that he’s telling the truth. Sniffling slightly, she quickly dismisses his concern, intending to end this conversation as fast as possible. 

“It’s nothing,” she lies, drying her cheeks with her sleeve. 

“If you’re sure,” Old Beardy replies with a resigned sigh, clearly not believing her but having enough decency to back off. “No one else but me and the spirits here though, so if ya need anything, just let me know.” 

“Will do...” Aubrey replies, hesitating slightly before continuing. “But... you keep mentioning... spirits?” 

“Aye,” the man responds, his warm smile finally fading. “They’ve been howling lately, like you wouldn’t believe,” he adds solemnly. “Their cries rise and fall, doublin’ then droppin’. Never heard anything like it before...” he continues, his leathery hands instinctively clenching into shaky fists. “I pray for this town.” 

It’s unnerving how serious he sounds despite describing something so... insane. She wants to dismiss his words as the crazy ramblings of a senile old man but... 

‘ I would sound crazy if I explained my day .’ 

“I should go,” Aubrey mumbles, turning to return to her search. 

“They like you missy,” Old Beardy says knowingly. “The spirits love visitors ... guess they’re sick of seeing this same ol’ mug every day! GWAHAHAHAHAHA!” And with that, the old man strolls off to resume his... whatever his job here is.  

Even after he's out of sight, his words still stick with her, bothering her more than she’d care to admit. Aubrey catches herself nervously glancing around the yard, as if expecting to spy one of the man’s ‘spirits’. Immediately feeling silly for doing so, she shakes her head in dismay and with a loud groan, continues forward. 

She doesn’t have to walk for much longer though, as her worst fears are quickly confirmed. Where her mother’s grave should be lies a much cleaner tombstone, its text illuminated by the sun’s rays. 

"OUR DEAREST MARI; THE SUN SHINED BRIGHTER WHEN SHE WAS HERE," it reads. 

“Oh... oh, God,” Aubrey mumbles. 

She knew what was awaiting her in this yard, she just... she didn’t think Mari would be here of all places. Where her mom should be... 

It’s sickening in a way that’s hard to describe, Aubrey can feel bile rising in her throat and a dull ache throbbing in her head. It takes all her willpower to not collapse on the spot, and so, with a shuddering breath, she forces herself to look at the grave again, to take it in, to accept that this, all of this is real. 

‘ Even if it feels like a nightmare .’  

A thousand thoughts flood her mind, but they all circle back to the same, simple question: why? 

‘Why did she do it?'

But only Mari knew the answer to that question, and she took it to her grave. 

Aubrey doesn’t know how long she’s been standing here, staring at the smooth stone that offers no answers, only silence. But eventually, after what feels like an eternity, the creaking of the Church’s back door interrupts the quiet of the cemetery, breaking Aubrey out of her haze. It’s soon followed by a series of footsteps, and barely a second later a familiar voice calls out. 

“Hey Aubs,” Kel greets sombrely, his gaze already cast on the tombstone before her. 

“Hey Kel,” she replies, her tone just as flat. “Hey guys,” she adds noticing the other two boys beside him. 

“H-Hey, Aubrey,” Basil says, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s as pale as a ghost, with wide, unblinking eyes locked onto Mari’s grave. He doesn’t even look at her as he speaks. “You... okay?” 

A pained laugh practically forces its way out of her mouth in response. It’s involuntary and she feels bad for literally laughing in his face, but she can’t help it, it’s just... everything . This whole thing is so messed up that she can’t help but laugh at it. 

“Y’know Bas,” Aubrey replies, a pained smile on her face. “I’m really not okay,” she confesses, her voice cracking slightly. 

A solemn silence follows her words, no one quite sure what to say next. Aubrey feels like she should say something, anything— a few words to Mari at least, a tribute to the girl who raised her and to the woman she could have been. The woman she had the pleasure to know so well in another life. But she can’t find the right words, honestly, she’s not sure they even exist, and so, the silence lingers, the quiet tension suffocating the four teens. 

Ironically, it’s Sunny of all people who breaks the silence, his shoes crunching the dry grass below them as he takes a step forward. His hands are at his sides, and whilst it’s barely precipitable, they’re trembling ever so slightly, just enough to betray his feelings. He’s obviously upset, that’s natural, they all are, but Aubrey feels like there’s something more to his reaction. There’s a small quiver to his lips, a furrow in his brow, and his eyes are wide with... shock? 

‘ Did... did he not—’  

Her thoughts are interrupted by another sudden movement, as Sunny reaches a trembling hand out towards his sister’s grave, stopping just short of the smooth stone surface. She can’t see his expression, but she can see his shivering. His entire body is shaking, his breathing quiet but rapid. It’s an alarming sight and Aubrey wants to do something, anything. She wants to hold him, to reassure him, to tell him everything is okay, but despite her wants, her body remains still. 

Cursing her inaction, she forces herself to at least take a step forward, but just as she does so, Sunny quickly retracts his hand and takes a large step back from the grave. His expression looks neutral at a glance, but Aubrey can tell he’s deeply disturbed. Unsure of what else to do, she offers him a reassuring shoulder pat, a gesture he seems to appreciate. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you all here,” she suddenly and impulsively apologises. “I just—I needed to—” 

“I get it,” Basil interjects. “I come here q-quite often.” 

“You do?” Kel asks, seemingly surprised and maybe even a little guilty. “I haven’t been in a while...” 

“Y-Yeah,” the blonde continues, sneaking a quick glance at Aubrey. “Usually in the m-morning." 

‘ To avoid you ’ goes unsaid, but Aubrey picks up on it, nonetheless. She knows herself, if she was her counterpart, she’d visit this grave every damn day, no matter how much it hurts to see. If Basil does the same then... well, it makes sense they’d choose different visiting hours. 

“I just can’t believe it’s been four years already,” Kel murmurs, a serious expression on his face. “It still feels like yesterday.”  

It’s quiet again for a moment, until Kel lets out a loud, resigned breath and speaks up again. 

“Y’know, when Mari died, Hero... he uh, he didn’t take it very well,” Kel confesses, eyes cast to the ground. “He just... stopped caring about everything. He didn’t want to get out of bed... or even eat. He stopped taking care of himself, stopped cooking and baking....” 

“He was like that for almost a year . ” 

“Okay, so that should be three-fifty Fahrenheit for...” Hero pauses, turning the oven dial to the correct temperature. “Thirty minutes!”  

Stepping away from the oven, the messy-haired teenager dusts his hands off on his signature pink apron, before flashing his companion with his trademark smile.  

“Thanks for the help, Aubrey.”  

“No problem!” the young girl beams, her gaze locked on the chocolate cake baking before her. “So... do I get the first slice?” she carefully asks, an optimistic smile creeping across her face.  

“If you can beat Kel,” Hero chuckles in response.  

The girl simply pouts in response. This isn’t even her house and she’s done more work than the younger Rodriguez! He just stood around, occasionally eating cake batter when Hero wasn’t looking, all the while claiming he was ‘emotional support’, what a jerk! Not to mention he’s been on ‘bathroom break’ for the past ten minutes!   

‘If he thinks he’s getting the first slice then he’s got another thing coming!’ she thinks to herself, dramatically crossing her arms at the thought.  

“Remember Aubrey,” Hero starts, his tone akin to that of a tired parent. “We’ve still got to save Mari a slice; this is for her after all.”  

“I k-know that!” Aubrey protests, slightly embarrassed by the callout. “You should be telling that to Kel!”  

“Trust me, I have,” the boy replies with a sigh.  

Today Mari will finally be getting out of the hospital, she’ll have to use a crutch for a while though, so Hero suggested baking a cake to cheer her up. He invited the whole group, but only Aubrey attended, Basil said he ‘wasn’t feeling well’, but assured everyone he’d be over later to greet Mari. It’ll be nice to have the whole group back together... well, most of the group at least.  

“Do... do you think Sunny can have one?” the girl asks, finally voicing a question that’s been on her mind all day.  

“I don’t think he’s allowed solid food at the moment,” Hero replies, a small frown on his face. “But I’m sure we can make it up to him once he’s discharged next week!” he adds, doing his best to reassure the now glum preteen.  

“Have you... spoke to him?” she asks, ignoring his attempt to cheer her up.  

His face gives away his answer before he even speaks; there’s a strain on his smile and a tired look in his eyes. She can tell he hasn’t been sleeping well—none of them have been.

“...No,” Hero confesses with a sigh. “They’re... not accepting any non-family visitors right now.”  

“But you ARE family,” Aubrey counters.  

“That’s... not really how that works,” the boy mumbles sheepishly.  

The young girl doesn’t care for that answer. The staff were fine with them visiting a couple of weeks ago, what’s changed? It’s like they were waiting for him to wake up just so they could rip her away from him again—it’s not fair!  

“What about Mari?” she asks, despite already knowing the answer.  

She managed to visit the older girl a couple of days ago, she seemed grateful for the company but otherwise... not in the best of spirits.  

“Yeah... yeah, we’ve spoken,” Hero replies vaguely.  

Once again, the older teen is an open book. She can tell by his hesitant tone, his involuntary frown, and the way his gaze quickly avoids her own, that Mari told him the same thing she told her.  

“Do you really think she—”  

“I think she’s going through a lot right now,” the boy interjects. “And I think we all need to be there for her. For both of them,” he adds, his voice kind but firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“You’re right,” Aubrey mumbles. “I just—if they had—they could have—” she sniffles, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.  

‘They could have died...’  

The thought has haunted her since she first saw Sunny on that stretcher, it echoes in her head and won’t go away.   

‘They nearly died over a recital.’  

She doesn’t know whether to feel mad or relieved or both.  

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Hero panics, lowering himself to her level and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Look, there’s no point worrying about what could have happened. Let’s just be glad they’re both okay,” he continues, his voice shaky but calming. “Let’s just—let’s watch some TV while the cake bakes, that sound good?”  

‘It does actually.’  

“Y-Yeah,” Aubrey sniffles in response, offering her friend a weak smile.  

“Good,” Hero replies, once again rocking his signature smile. “KEL! WE’RE WATCHING SPACEBOY!” he suddenly yells, his call almost immediately followed by the sound of loud footsteps rushing downstairs.  

“Bathroom break, huh?” Aubrey deadpans.  

“Yeah, that’s Kel for you,” Hero chuckles, a fond smile on his face. “Gotta love him.”  

As Kel finishes his tale Aubrey finds herself at a loss for words. It’s hard to rectify the Hero from his story with the one she knows from back home. The ever-reliable older brother of the group, who whilst dorky and awkward was also charming and kind. A man filled with passion and life, who never raised his voice unless absolutely necessary, who had friends and family that he loved and who loved him in return, a man who still had Mari... 

She supposes that’s the key point there.  

Aubrey can only imagine how he must have felt, having someone who meant the world to you leave without warning, knowing you never had the chance to tell them how you really felt about them. It would sour even the most pleasant memories, all that teasing, that casual flirting the pair loved so much, it must have just felt like wasted time to him, time spent joking about his love instead of truly proclaiming it.  

The regret must have been unbearable. That kind of pain would break anyone. But to lock himself away for a year? To lash out at his own brother? She can picture it but it... it just sounds wrong . 

It must have been horrible to witness, to see someone brought so low; Kel’s tone certainly implies as much. He had a small frown on his face for most of the talk, although Aubrey didn’t miss the pained smile he forced when talking about his parents.  

“ Some of it was pretty hurtful, too... but I think I blocked out a lot of it, ” he had said. 

She doesn’t believe that for a second, she can tell he remembers every single word. But honestly, there’s so much to unpack there that she doesn’t even know where to start.  

Although her anger towards her counterpart is only growing with every new detail she learns about this world. Hearing about all the horrible things her friends have been through and then hearing about how her counterpart either worsened or contributed to them certainly isn’t helping her impression of the delinquent. 

“Sorry for dumping that on you guys,” Kel apologises, his tone sheepish. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before,” he adds with an unreadable expression. “I think Hero still blames himself for...” he trails off, glancing at Mari’s grave. “He’s never visited. Not even once. I know it hurts, but maybe it would help? ...I don’t know,” Kel admits with a sigh. 

“Kel...” Aubrey mumbles, not sure what to say next. 

“...I’m so sorry,” Basil says, a distant look in his eyes. He’s visibly paled throughout the course of Kel’s tale, now looking as white as a sheet. His hands are shaking uncontrollably, and he’s put a noticeable distance between himself and Kel. “I didn’t—I never wanted—” the boy mumbles his voice hitching slightly. 

“Hey, it’s alright man, really!” Kel replies, offering the blonde a reassuring smile. “It’s not your fault. None of us could have known,” he adds, his smile wavering slightly. 

“R-Right,” Basil stutters, his voice dripping with regret. 

The guilt on his face is as clear as day, although Aubrey has no idea why he reacted so strongly. The obvious answer is that he blames himself for Mari’s suicide just like Hero, but she can’t help but feel like there’s more to it than that. She just doesn’t know what exactly. 

Sunny as per usual, has remained silent throughout the entire exchange, although there is a slight frown on his face. Aubrey wonders if Hero would have ended up like him had Kel not intervened. She quickly banishes the thought, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. 

‘ Things are bad as they are, I don’t want to imagine them being worse! ’ 

“Anyway! Now what?” Kel suddenly pipes up, his wide grin once again restored, contrasting with the glum and guilty expressions of everyone else present. Aubrey suspects it’s forced, but right now she’s grateful for it.  

Today has been too much, she needs some levity. Although the next thing on her to-do list isn’t exactly the most relaxing proposal. 

“Well... Basil, you wanted your photo album back, right?” she asks. “So, I guess I can go grab that.” 

Truthfully, going back to that house is the last thing she wants right now, but she did promise Basil she’d return his album. Besides, she’ll have to go back there eventually anyway... 

“You could always... g-grab it tomorrow?” Basil suggests, his tone surprisingly hopeful. 

‘ ...He wants to hang out again ,’ Aubrey realises. 

“I—y-yeah! Of course,” the pinkette stutters, grateful for the excuse to not go ‘home’. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow,” she promises. 

The flower boy simply nods in response, seemingly pleased with the outcome, albeit still a bit shaken from Kel’s story. 

“Guess we should get going then,” Kel says, looking over to the setting sun. “We’ll need a better way out though,” he mumbles. 

That last bit causes Aubrey to pause. Sure, she doesn’t exactly want to go back into the church, especially after storming out like that, but she’ll do it if necessary. The way Kel phrased it made it sound like going back isn’t even an option anymore. Clearly, she’s missing some context here, and she does not care to be left in the dark. 

“Why?” she asks, somewhat dreading the answer. 

The three boys look at their feet, avoiding her gaze. Their expressions are a cross between guilt and embarrassment and do little to quell the pinkette’s growing concern. 

“What did you guys do?” she half-asks, half-demands. 

“W-We—” Basil stutters. 

“Sunny flipped off the whole procession,” Kel interrupts, nervously scratching his neck. 

“Sunny?!” Aubrey cries, turning to look at the raven-haired boy. 

The boy in question blinks a couple of times, then simply shrugs in response, his expression unchanging, without a shred of the guilt seen amongst his companions. Honestly, she kind of loves him for it... 

“In his defence,” Kel starts. “They were total jerks!” Emphasising his point, the tan teen frantically gestures his hands back to the church. “The way they talked about you...” he mumbles. “That wasn’t cool.” 

She can’t help but smile a little at that last comment. Kel can be an absolute moron sometimes, but he means well, and she appreciates the support. She’s been trying not to think about what the churchgoers said too much. She knows they’re not really talking about her; they’re talking about her counterpart. But it’s hard not to internalise a lot of what they said. After all... 

‘ We are the same person .’ 

“Maybe not,” Aubrey concedes with a tired sigh. “But now we’ve gotta go back through there, and I doubt the Preacher was about that ,” she adds, gesturing to a very nonchalant Sunny. 

“Not necessarily,” Kel mumbles in response. “We could jump the fence!” 

Aaand that’s what she gets for giving him too much credit. 

“That is a terrible idea,” Aubrey deadpans. 

Even as she says the words, she knows they won’t reach Kel. He’s got a determined gleam in his eyes, and it’s clear that no force on this Earth (or her own) could stop him now. She can protest all she wants, that idiot is going to jump the fence.  

“What's the matter, Aubrey?” her foolish friend asks with a smug grin. “Never taken a shortcut before?” 

“Polly better have band-aids,” Aubrey grumbles. 

To the surprise of no-one bar Kel himself, his genius plan resulted in him scraping the hell out of his leg. Luckily, Basil said they could go back to his place to get Kel cleaned up. So now the tan idiot is draped around Sunny for support, as the gang of tired teens make their way to the Flower residence. 

“You know P-Polly?” Basil asks. 

Right. In this world she doesn’t live with them. That’s still going to take some getting used to. 

“Oh, yeah, I was looking for you earlier and I met her when I dropped by your place,” Aubrey replies. “Long story short, I might have gotten an invite for dinner.” 

Said dinner might just be the highlight of an otherwise awful day, at least when she’s sat at that table she can pretend it’s just a normal night. Polly treating her like a stranger is probably going to sting though. 

“Why were you l-looking for me?” the flower boy stutters. 

“I—” 

“Someone say dinner?” Kel asks, his arm still wrapped around a very grumpy Sunny. 

“N-Nevermind,” Basil relents with a sigh. 

No one says a word for the rest of the walk, instead allowing themselves time to process the day’s events. Between Kel’s confession and the Churchgoer’s insults, Aubrey feels... lost. She knew from the second she woke up in that godforsaken house that this world was messed up, but the more she learns the worse it gets. 

Truthfully, a part of her had wanted to hurt Kel earlier for the way he was acting. But now, knowing what he’s been through, knowing that she turned on her friends during their most turbulent years, it’s all too much to process. The spiteful vitriol the people at Church spat at her is just the icing on top really, because as much as it hurt to listen to, she can’t say they were truly wrong. 

‘ They just got the wrong Aubrey .’ 

She can see that the other her hasn’t had the best life, but to take that pain out on the world, on her friends? That’s not okay.  

With that bitter thought still lingering in the back of her mind, she and her friends finally arrive at Basil’s doorstep. 

Just like the outside, the inside of the Flower residence is much less floral than the house she’s used to. A few of the plants even seemed to have wilted a little, which is a rather sad sight.  

That being said, the place is still more akin to a flower store than the average suburban domicile with plotted plants by the TV, the bookshelves, hell, even the dinner table. Not to mention, the massive rack of flowers right in front of her and the vine-printed wallpaper. In retrospect, the home she’s used to has probably gone a bit overboard with all the plantlife. Because this place is practically barren by comparison and yet it would still make a botanist blush.  

Though it may be different to what she's used to, it’s cosy and welcoming nonetheless. Especially with the living room being bathed in a warm, nostalgic, orange light cast by the setting sun. Said light pours in through the back window and feels much more comfortable than it did earlier. Likely because the house’s humble interior is a far cry from the church’s suffocating atmosphere.

‘ It’s good to be home ,’ she thinks, frowning slightly as she reminds herself that this isn’t her home. Not in this world at least. 

Glancing around, she notices there are a few polaroids hanging above the doorway, although Aubrey can’t make out their contents from where she’s sat. Nor can she make out who’s in the framed pictures hanging above the fridge. The logical answer would be his parents or distant family (not that there’s much distinction between the two categories in this case) but the Basil she knows didn’t like keeping pictures like those up. Back home, most of the family portraits that didn’t feature himself, her, Mrs Flower or Polly were either carefully tucked away behind plant pots or stored in cupboards in the off chance the blonde’s parents visited. 

‘ Those visits were always so annoying .’ 

Basil didn’t want them there, Aubrey didn’t want them there, hell, they didn’t even want to be there! It felt like it was like some legal obligation or something, like they had to show up at least a couple of times a year just to justify being parents in the first place. Yet, for those short, stupid visits, Aubrey had to pack most of her stuff and dump it at Sunny’s place. He never minded of course, but it always got on Aubrey’s nerves. 

Sure, Basil could have just been honest and told them she had been living there for years now, but that ran the risk of them intervening. Just because Basil’s grandma was kind enough to house her doesn’t mean his folks share the same sentiment. So, they had all agreed pretty early on that it was best not to risk it; better to haul all her crap to the Suzuki residence every now and then, than risk homelessness. 

The one time they showed up without warning was incredibly awkward though. Pretending to be Basil’s girlfriend was an experience she can safely say neither of them enjoyed. 

“Ah!” Kel hisses, interrupting the pinkette’s thoughts, as Polly applies antiseptic to the boy’s leg. 

“Just stay still, I’m nearly done now,” the caretaker instructs, a box of medical supplies by her side. 

She, Basil, and Sunny are sat on the couch, herself being sandwiched between the two boys. Whilst Kel is sat at the dinner table, his wounds being treated by Polly. The injury looks a lot worse in this light; he really did a number on himself. Discarding another bloody tissue, Polly finally starts to cover the smaller cuts with band-aids, gauze roll at hand, ready for the larger scrapes. 

“Not to say I told you so, but—” Aubrey goes to taunt. 

“Please don’t,” Kel groans in response, hissing again as Polly accidentally grazes another cut. 

“Sorry!” the caretaker apologises, reaching for the gauze roll. “You must have had quite the fall,” she remarks, grimacing slightly as one of the plasters immediately darkens as blood seeps through it. “How exactly did this happen again?” 

“Uhhh,” the teen stutters. 

“He tripped on an Orange Joe can,” Aubrey lies. 

“Yeah. That.” 

Kel’s response is short and straight to the point, uttered through clenched teeth, with a barely concealed scowl. An expression that only worsens as Polly speaks up. 

“I never got the appeal of that drink,” she muses aloud. “Such an odd flavour.” 

“Mhm,” he grumbles in agreement, wisely choosing not to bite the hand that feeds. Or maybe it’s more the hand that heals in this case. Whatever, the point is, watching Kel pout over a subpar soda is funny. 

Aubrey just hopes he’s taking it all in good spirits, she knows he’s just opened up to them all, but she’s pretty sure he’d hate it more if she started treating him differently now. Although, she is going to talk to him about all that when she gets the chance to, because he was definitely downplaying a lot of things earlier. 

‘ Ugh, I’m too tired for this .’ 

Space, she needs space. Somewhere to be alone for a little while and gather her thoughts, maybe scream into the void too. 

“Can I use the bathroom?” she asks. 

Ideally, she would just go to her own room, but she’s pretty sure it’s still Mrs Flower’s right now, and she’d rather not disturb the elderly woman. Besides as bathrooms go, Basil’s is probably one of the better ones to have a breakdown in; how many normal washrooms have trays of colourful flowers? Exactly.  

“Of course, dear,” Polly replies. “It’s just down the hall.” 

Aubrey has to bite her tongue before she instinctively says, ‘I know’. 

“Thanks,” she says instead, rising from her spot on the couch. 

“Don’t be too long!” Polly calls out. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she adds with a smile. 

“I won’t be,” Aubrey replies. 

Strolling down the hall, she’s reminded just how barren this place is by comparison to the home she knows. It’s certainly better than the living room, with more bookshelves, hanging plants, some strung-up polaroids, and even a bonsai tree. But it’s just lacking those small touches she’s grown so accustomed to. Where there should be a portrait of herself, Basil, and Mrs Flower there’s nothing but an empty space, and where her room should be... 

Well, that’s presumably still there, but the sign indicating it’s her’s is gone too. Instead, it’s just a plain old door, one she doesn’t dare to open. 

She remembers her first months in this house, sharing a room with Basil, waking up at odd hours, moving through life like a shadow on the wall, lost and disconnected from those around her. Aubrey didn’t care for her mother, but in hindsight, her death clearly messed her up for a good while. 

‘ And now she’s alive again .’  

Ah right, she’s supposed to be screaming into the void. 

Entering the bathroom reveals a similar situation to the rest of the house. Similar stuff just less of it. None of her hygiene products are here, nor her hair dye, and most upsetting of all, the silly rubber duck-bunny hybrid Hero got her Christmas is missing too. Of course, she’s hardly surprised by this point, but it is a little disheartening, nonetheless.  

All the small things that made this place home are gone. It’s like when she’d have to crash with Sunny just... permanent. Aubrey won’t be moving her stuff back into this place tomorrow morning, she probably won’t even return here again. She’s not a resident here, she’s just a guest, and that thought unsettles Aubrey in a way she can’t quite put into words. 

Sighing, she strolls over to the sink, turns the tap, and allows the water to warm up. Gazing at her reflection reveals a weary expression. 

‘ I look as tired as I feel... ’ 

Feeling the heat radiating from the tap water, Aubrey curses realising she’s allowed it to get too warm. Adjusting it slightly, she applies a healthy amount of soap before finally washing her hands. The flow of water is fast and loud, and she briefly considers using the noise to mask her screaming. It would be great to let all her frustration and confusion out, to unleash one raw, primal, scream of rage.  

‘ But what would it change?'

Nothing.  

If anything, she might just wake Mrs Flower, and she does not want to do that. The fact is, she’s stuck here, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Screaming won’t change that, neither will crying or begging. Divine intervention or cosmic cruelty, who- what ever did this to her won’t undo it just because she’s feeling sad. 

Static rings in her ears as Aubrey stares down at her hands, unsure what to do with this revelation. She doesn’t realise she’s burning her hands until the water starts to sting against her skin. Hissing, she quickly retracts her hands from the basin, turns the tap off, and shakes the excess water from her hands. 

Glancing back up at the mirror she— 

‘Wait what?!' 

Her own reflection stares back at her, equally confused, but with wide teal eyes. She has long, flowing pink hair, adorned with the same headband she’d gotten from Mari a few years back, and she’s wearing a white varsity jacket with yellow accents over a plain, black crop top. Aubrey is pretty sure she’s wearing a denim miniskirt too, but it’s hard to tell from this angle. She briefly wonders if she’s hallucinating, if the stress of dimension hopping has finally caught up with her and immediately shattered her psyche. 

But then the reflection speaks. 

“What the hell,” it mumbles in her voice.

The copy's unnaturally teal eyes widen in horror, matching Aubrey's own terror as it suddenly dawns on both of them what’s really happening here. A sudden surge of anger rushes through Aubrey as she realises who exactly she’s looking at. It’s the girl who bullied Basil, who ruined all her friendships, who tormented the entire town, who stole her life and stuck Aubrey here. It’s her counterpart. 

Yes, it all makes sense now.

It’s not some angry God or cosmic force that did this to her, no, it’s a selfish delinquent. A jealous doppelgänger, who couldn’t live with her own mistakes and thus stole her life instead. Trapping her in the world she abandoned.

Clenching her fists and grinding her teeth, Aubrey glares at her reflection with the utmost contempt. Then, with all her anger finally boiling over, she lets out a furious cry, screaming the only thing she can think of. 

“ YOU! ”

Chapter Text

Basil’s bathroom is ordained with a variety of colourful flowers, of which Aubrey only recognises a handful. There are sunflowers, lilies, roses, tulips and a couple more plants she definitely knows but whose names currently elude her. Scattered amongst them are some stranger species, bright, vibrant flowers that she has certainly never seen before, likely being imported from God knows where to feed Basil’s floral kleptomania. Those aren’t the most interesting things in this room though.

No, that would be the girl in the mirror.

“YOU!” said girl cries. “YOU DID THIS!”

It’s a strange thing, to see your own reflection scream bloody murder at you. A truly surreal experience unlike anything she (or likely anyone else for that matter) has ever seen before. At first, Aubrey had fairly assumed that she’d simply lost her mind. It had barely been a minute since she hallucinated blood on her hands after all. So yeah, total mental collapse seemed a likely explanation.

But the thing is, this feels real, too real. This warped reflection has her face, but it’s... different, softer. There’s a glow to her skin and she lacks any of the injuries from this morning’s fight. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s foregone Aubrey’s usual choice of teal contacts, instead revealing her natural brown eye colour. She’s dressed in blue jeans and Aubrey’s old yellow hoodie, a jacket she herself had lost a couple of years ago when it got shredded against asphalt in a fight with some jock. Aubrey deduces that this girl must avoid such conflicts, as her nose is ever-so slightly straighter than her own, presumably due to not getting her shit rocked when saving Mikhael’s sorry ass from Boss.

It’s that last bit in particular that convinces Aubrey that this isn’t a hallucination, and more importantly, reveals who exactly she’s looking at.

It’s her. The other her, the Aubrey from this world.

“It’s you...” she mumbles, thinking aloud.

It's weird, like staring at a fun house mirror, except instead of mocking Aubrey by comically warping her reflection, it’s showing her everything she’s not... and never will be.

Angling her head and peaking behind her reflection reveals a near-identical bathroom to the one she’s in now, albeit slightly less floral. It’s like the mirror has somehow transformed into a window to another world. She's pretty sure it's not a portal, as she can still see the faint gleam of the glass, as the glare of the bathroom light bends across its surface like oil on water. But it is definitely supernatural; something she can't believe she's so willing to accept.

“Don’t act surprised!” her counterpart replies, her voice burning with an unbridled rage. The anger on her face contrasts sharply with the girl’s softer features and tamer outfit, creating a sight that might be humorous under difficult circumstances, but right now it only serves to further put Aubrey on edge. “I know you did this, and I want you to undo it right now!”

“You think I—why the hell would I do this?!” she asks, absolutely baffled by the accusation.

Clearly, her other self is desperate, she’s grasping at straws, desperately trying to bargain her way out of this nightmare. Truth be told, she gets the feeling, after all, they are the same person, and had this conversation taken place even just an hour earlier, Aubrey probably would have been desperate enough to try the same thing herself. But whilst she may understand her reflection’s plight, that doesn’t make her words any less aggravating.

“Please!” her doppelganger scoffs. “It’s obvious why! Your life sucks!”

“Okay, first of all, screw you. Second, how could I have done this?!” Aubrey counters, growing more and more frustrated with her copy’s presumptions. “I’m not a magician! And does this look like the expression of someone who’s in control?” she quizzes, frantically gesturing towards her face and silently praying she looks as panicked as she feels. “I’m freaking out too! This whole thing is insane! You really think I’d be this bothered if I planned all of this?!”

That last bit causes her reflection to pause. She watches as her own face scrunches in a mix of annoyance and confusion. It’s like a war is playing out on her counterpart’s expression, as blind anger clashes against rationality and reason. But based on the girl’s growing frown, it’s safe to say that the latter is winning.

“...No,” the reflection relents. Her expression souring somewhat before her anger quickly flares up again. “But you’re still the worst!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Aubrey groans.

She’s been scolded by Polly, Basil, Sunny, and at the rate things are going, she’ll probably be able to add Hero and Mari to that list before the week is done. She really doesn’t need to be catching flak from herself too!

“You terrorised half the town, you ditched Kel, you bullied Basil! They’re supposed to be our friends and you just abandoned them!” her doppelganger rants.

The sting of the sudden, harsh accusations hit her hard, almost catching her completely off guard. But thankfully, her indignation kicks in well before the shock can settle.

“I didn’t ditch shit!” she quickly replies, glaring at her reflection, as her hands instinctively tighten into fists. “They abandoned me!”

Aubrey has given herself grief before, you don’t live this kind of lifestyle without a little self-loathing after all, but getting so thoroughly criticised by her own reflection is just so... bizarre, and honestly, kind of unnerving. It’s like her every doubt has been made manifest and set upon her with righteous anger.

“They were grieving!” her other self retorts.

“So was I!” Aubrey snaps back.

Today has helped her realise just how much Mari meant to everyone, and whilst that may explain her ‘friend’s’ actions, it certainly doesn’t excuse them. Sure, they were all mourning, but not a single one of them ever bothered to check up on her. Sunny and Hero disappeared, Kel kept his distance, and she practically had to beg Basil to hang out with her and that... well, that didn’t go so well.

“What about Basil?” her counterpart asks, as if reading her thoughts.

‘Speak of the devil...’

“What about him?!” Aubrey hisses, already tired of her other self’s accusations.

“You bullied him!” her reflection yells, venom dripping from her voice. “You whine about people leaving you, then harass your oldest friend! He’s already on the edge and you just keep pushing him! What the hell is your problem?!” the girl rants, not even giving Aubrey a second to reply. “He lost Mari too y'know! Hell, he was one of the first to find her for God’s sake! And you robbed him! You robbed him of his most cherished possession! Now he’s about to lose his grandma too and—did you even know that? Did you even ask?!”

It's like a punch to the gut when her brain finally processes her other self’s words. As she most certainly did not know that, nor did she ever ask.

Honestly, she hadn’t even thought about Mrs Flower much in the past few years. This morning was probably the most consideration she’d given the elderly woman in quite some time, and even then, it was just a passing thought on the woman’s absence in this universe. She hasn’t dared to ask Basil or Polly, but she’s pretty sure that here, the woman died some time ago... and yet, she’s apparently alive in her own world, albeit just barely.

The thought upsets her more than she expected it to. Mrs Flower had always been a kind soul, having let Aubrey crash on their couch on more than one occasion, back when her parent’s arguments got especially heated. It’s quite likely that in this world she was the one who allowed her counterpart to live here in the first place.

It’s funny, until about five seconds ago, not being able to say goodbye neither bothered her nor crossed her mind in the first place. Yet now...

‘I’ll never get the chance to...’

“He’s a mess! He’s too thin, he’s always nervous—he won’t even look at me!" her other self continues, unaware of all the turmoil she’s stirred within the delinquent’s mind. Her voice cracks slightly as tears form in the corner of her eyes. “He was like family—I just—why?! Why did you do this?!” the girl begs. “And don’t you dare say for Mari!”

Truthfully, Aubrey doesn’t know what to say. Today she’s had to face some harsh realities about the boy she had been demonising for so long. She told herself that he didn’t care, and that him scribbling out their photos proved as much. But today has proven the exact opposite, for all his faults, he does care. He was upset when he heard about Mari, and he helped Aubrey out when she gave plenty of reasons not to.

He also showed her that he could fight back, which implies the blonde she knows likely could too. It’s been a nagging thought at the back of her mind but...

‘What if he let me?’

Aubrey shivers, goosebumps running up her arms as she recalls a memory that had once barely even tugged her on conscious, but now weighs heavy on her chest, like a suffocating blanket of guilt.

“WHY WON’T YOU TAKE A HINT!” an angry girl cries. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She’s thirteen, with bleached hair as blonde as the boy’s in her grasp. Her hands are firmly clenched around his collar, with her iron grip being the only thing keeping him off the floor. His scrapped knees hover just barely above the grass below. He’s on his toes, creasing his dark leather school shoes against the ground in a desperate attempt to maintain balance.

The first signs of bruising are already beginning to show on his face.

“T-The—” he stutters, only to be cut short as the girl suddenly releases him from her grasp, causing him to stumble over and crack his nose on the hard dirt below.

She knows what he was going to say. He’s after that damn album again. They do this every same routine every week: he comes crying, she shoves him around a bit, calls him names, and then eventually, he goes away.

“Listen to me,” she begins, slamming the head of her baseball bat into the ground, mere inches away from his face. Towering over him, she glares down at the shivering mess.

Today has been different though. This wasn’t her usual push and shove, she has had a really rough day, and Basil has made himself the perfect outlet for her rage.

“You are NEVER getting it back,” she states, the finality in her voice conflicting with the objective fact of the situation. They both know damn well that they’ll do this all again next week. “Now piss off!”

Mercifully, he complies, staggering out of the park with blood trailing down his nose. A few gawking onlookers give her a nasty look, but she just snarls under her breath and promptly retreats to the hangout spot. It doesn't matter, none of this matters.

It doesn't matter that she’d finally mustered the courage to flee her godforsaken house, it doesn't matter that she realised at the very last second that she’d have nowhere else to go, and it certainly doesn't matter that the first person she met after said realisation was stupid goddamn Basi—

Once she’s fully in the clearing, and completely out of sight from the scowling onlookers, she lets out a pained, primal scream of grief.

…That was just one of many encounters. It didn’t matter how bad the beating was, Basil would come running back eventually.

It’s a horrible thought, but what if her bullying was also his ‘self’-imposed punishment. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t just leave her the hell alone; Aubrey may have unwittingly made herself his form of self-harm. She may hate the boy for what he did, but that thought, the idea that she was an accessory to his worse tendencies... it’s upsetting.

Which is strange, because in theory, it shouldn’t change anything, he never forced her hand, she hurt him of her own volition, this revelation doesn’t alter that fact.

Yet at the same time it changes absolutely everything...

Realising she hasn’t yet replied to her counterpart, Aubrey forces herself to speak, even though her mind is aloof with countless contradicting thoughts.

“He blacked out the photo album,” she mumbles in response. “Scribbled over every single photo, I saw it and I just—it was all I had left of her... so I took it, cleaned it up, and when Basil came knocking for it, I...”

She still remembers the sickening crunch his nose made when her fist collided with it. The shock on both of their faces as he fell to the curb, blood streaming down his lips. Aubrey had played it off cool, called him a freak then slammed the door in his face, but her hands had been shaking the entire time.

Looking back, she’s pretty sure they both knew they’d crossed the point of no return.

“I think you can figure out the rest,” she adds, refusing to meet her double’s glare.

The pony-tailed girl stares at her with a mixture of disgust and confusion. She’s definitely still angry, but right now, bewilderment is her dominant emotion.

“That... that doesn’t sound like Basil,” she murmurs before suddenly furrowing her brows again. “But seriously, that’s it? You made his life miserable over the freaking photo album?!”

Despite her emotional exhaustion, Aubrey can’t help but feel another sudden burst of anger towards her double’s brazen disregard of the photo album.

“It was all I had left of her!” she quickly counters, glaring at her other self, despite lacking the same conviction she had mere seconds earlier. “And he ruined it—I just—”

“He found her hanging from a tree!” her reflection snaps back. “It was probably just too much for him to handle, so he—”

“He didn’t have to black them out! They’re our memories!”

“And you didn’t have to bully him!”

Just like that their constant back and forth comes to an abrupt halt, as Aubrey is left in a stunned silence, her mouth agape as she struggles to find a retort. It’s such a simple statement, and yet, she has no counter to it, no excuse, no justification, nothing. There is no defence for tormenting him the way she had been doing, she could’ve heard him out, or left him alone, or at least tried to understand him.

But she didn’t. She didn’t do any of that.

For her whole life, she’s always felt so powerless, always at the mercy of someone else, be it her parents, her teachers, fate, or God—it just felt good to have that power over someone else for a change, to have someone to take all that pent-up anger out on. It’s messed up, really messed, she can see that now, but...

“You wouldn’t get it,” Aubrey eventually grumbles, her eyes downcast once again.

“Seriously?” her counterpart asks, sounding almost offended. “You really think I do—”

“No. I really don’t you get it,” Aubrey snaps, her tone cold and weary. “You’ve lived my life for one day and you’re already miserable! Everything you’ve been through today? That’s been every day of my existence for the past four years!”

Now it’s her double's time to fall into stunned silence. Her face twists into a conflicted expression, as she struggles internally to refute Aubrey’s logic.

“You’re me,” she continues, undeterred by the girl’s scowl. “So, I know you’ve also feared that they’d move on one day, that they’d abandon us without warning... just like Dad did... But for you that’s just a nightmare, for me it’s reality!”

Her counterpart’s gaze falters as she continues, no longer meeting Aubrey’s eyes.

“I’ve been a jerk, I know that. But your friends didn’t leave you, mine did! I’ve lost everything, and those photos, those memories, they’re all I have left! If you think I was just gonna sit by and let that freak ruin them then you’re—”

“You’re wrong,” her other self interrupts.

“What?!”

Of all the responses she expected from her reflection, that was not one of them, and just like that the ember of outrage Aubrey has felt throughout this entire conversation reignites into a burning, passionate, indignation.

“Oh—why do I even bother if that’s all you have to say?!” she rants, feeling a mix of fury towards the girl’s audacity and pure bafflement at the statement itself. “You wanna know what I think ponytail? I think you’re spoilt! I think you can see the best in my ‘friends’ because you haven’t had them ditch you! You can judge me so easily now that you’re out of that damn attic! Well, surprise little Mrs perfect, you’re no saint either!”

“That’s not—what do you even mean by that?” her counterpart asks.

“I mean, you have a go at me for how I treat Basil, but you practically torture him on the daily!” Aubrey replies.

When her reflection simply responds with a silent stare of confusion, she feels her heart sink slightly.

‘Did she really not know? ...No, I’m just not making myself clear enough.’

“He likes Sunny!” Aubrey clarifies, a cruel smirk crawling up her face. “He housed you and then you went and hooked up with his crush!” She shakes her head in feigned disappointment, letting out a barely audible chuckle. “Hypocrite,” she tacks on at the end with a snort.

Her victory is short-lived though, as what little sense of superiority Aubrey has in this argument quickly crumbles as she notices her counterpart’s mortified expression. Her skin has paled, and her mouth is agape, like a fish desperately gasping for air, as tries to muster a response.

“That’s not—we were kids, I thought he had... I didn’t know he still...” the girl eventually murmurs.

‘Basil was right...’ Aubrey realises, her smug grin instantly vanishing.

“Bullshit. I figured it out in an hour, there’s no way you didn’t know,” Aubrey reasons, more to herself than anyone else. “But go on, please, since you’re so much better than me, do explain how I’m wrong. You’ve lived my life for one day but clearly, you know best so—”

“You still have them.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you only had the photos left, but you’re wrong. Your friends are still there,” her reflection insists, with an unwavering conviction in her voice that juxtaposes the deep pain in her eyes. “I met them, I made amends with Kel and Basil, and you know what? They missed you,” she spits, her scowl worsening as she continues. “Kel knows I’m not you, and he was clearly worried about you.”

‘Kel?’

There are three major bombshells with those namedrops. First, her other self met up with her old friends, something she had kind of assumed based on the girl’s knowledge and general attitude when talking about them, but is still surprising to have confirmed. Second, she trusted Kel of all people with her secret... or at least Aubrey is presuming her other self is keeping her true identity a secret, she sure made it sound like she is.

Third, Kel... misses her?

‘If he missed me that much why’d he ditch me in the first place?!'

Sure, they’d had some pretty bad arguments over the last few years, and last time she spoke she may have said some... things. But that... that doesn’t...

‘Ah, shit.’

Aubrey is getting really tired of all this self-reflection; how many more mistakes is her doppelganger going to spell out for her? Because at the rate things are going currently, she’ll be questioning every damn decision she’s made in the past four years.

“You think you’ve lost everything, but it’s all still right there, you just need to try—”

‘Okay, that’s enough.’

“I did try!” Aubrey replies, cutting her other self off. “I tried with Basil, and that made everything worse! You want me to do what Kel does? Constantly call a brother who never wants to come home! Knock on Sunny’s door every damn day, even though he’s never coming out?! Just because you like him does not mean that I’m going to—what’s with that look?”

So far, her reflection has only shown Aubrey disgust, disdain, and rage. Yet now her face is full of... sympathy?

For the first time since she originally appeared in the bathroom mirror, her other self looks apprehensive. There’s no more burning anger in her expression, her face is glum, and she seems to be mustering the strength to speak up. It’s a complete one-eighty from the girl she was arguing with barely a second earlier, and it unnerves Aubrey more than she’d care to admit.

But eventually, her reflection speaks up again, and what she says next shatters Aubrey’s heart.

“...Sunny came outside today.”

‘What?’

The last time she saw Sunny was at Mari’s funeral almost four years ago now. He had just stood there the entire time, his expression no longer stoic but instead… vacant. What little light remained in his eyes had gradually fizzled out over the course of the procession.

He didn’t say a word, he didn’t even shed a tear, that fact used to infuriate her to no end, but now, looking back it’s just depressing. For all intents and purposes, he was just as lifeless as his sister; Aubrey supposes it’s fitting then that he disappeared into his house almost immediately after that. She had been to the funerals of both Suzuki’s and hadn’t even realised it.

Or at least... she thought she had.

It’s only today that she truly came to terms with why Sunny left he—them all behind, but now her counterpart is saying he came back? No way. No god damn way! This is just her reflection messing with her! Trying to get back at her for calling her out on Basil!

...It has to be.

“What? T-That’s not—bullshit! You’re just...” Aubrey trails off, her accusations falling flat in the face of her reflection’s unwavering expression. She knows her own poker face, and her counterpart is not lying here. But then, that means...

“...I missed it,” she murmurs.

A part of her had always missed him, no matter how much she denied it. Waking up in this world and seeing him—or at least another version of him, certainly didn’t help with that, especially given the nature of their relationship here. They’d been close as kids, and seeing what they could have been here has been painful enough. Now hearing that Sunny—the real Sunny finally came back outside, and she wasn’t there for it... God, that hurts.

It hurts so much more than she ever thought it would, like a deep, dull ache suddenly erupted into a severe searing pain without any warning. Not even twenty-four hours ago so was convinced she hated his guts, but now...

“I’m sorry,” her counterpart apologises earnestly.

“Save it,” Aubrey replies with a sigh.

It’s safe to say that neither of them feel like arguing anymore, or certainly not right now at least. Aubrey feels physically and emotionally drained, like she could just pass out on the spot, and based on her reflection’s slumped posture, it’s a safe bet that her other self is in the same boat.

It has been a long day after all, for both of them. Speaking of which...

“So,” she starts, ignoring how her voice hitches slightly. “...Is there anything else I should know?”

Aubrey never got why Sunny was so quiet. She respected it of course, but she never really got it. He had a nice voice, and whenever he did speak whatever he had to say was usually worth listening to. A part of her always suspected that there might be something... more to it than just mere shyness. But Mari was very coy about the subject and as far as Aubrey was aware he never had any offices diagnoses or anything of the sort. Frankly, it was none of her business anyway, she he enjoyed his company whether he spoke or not.

All this comes to mind as right now, Aubrey finally understands his hesitance to speak. Hell, she could happily go mute for the rest of her days; she’s likely talked more in the past hour than she has in the last two weeks!

As soon as her counterpart had finished recounting the events of her day, she demanded Aubrey do the same. She complied of course, although she did leave out a few details here and there, mainly regarding her fight with Basil.

‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,’ she had reasoned.

Her other self already has a pretty poor opinion of her, telling the girl she almost killed her best friend would almost certainly shatter the uneasy truce they have here. Besides, it sounds like she has enough on her plate as is anyway. Seriously, it's no wonder the girl was so furious: Mom, Church, Kel...  Aubrey thought she had a rough morning, but once again little Mrs Perfect here has her beat. Although this time she’s not so upset about coming in second place.

Anyway, she's pretty sure they're even here, as if Aubrey is hiding details, then surely her other self is too, right? They are supposed to be the same person after all...

‘But are you really though?’

Although, for being another version of herself, her counterpart sure seems a lot more... well, Aubrey doesn’t want to say innocent, but naive? Yeah, naive.

She grew up with friends who stuck by her and supported her, and so even as Aubrey explained her own life to the girl, it’s clear that she maintained a level of cognitive dissonance. She truly can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea of her friends abandoning her. So far, she’s either hand-waved that fact or excused their behaviour. It’s frustrating, but what’s even more frustrating is that the girl seems to be at least somewhat right. If she’s telling the truth, then in less than twenty-four hours she’s reconciled a friend group Aubrey was certain she’d never see whole again.

‘Except it’s not truly whole now, is it?’

It feels like the universe is laughing at her, showing her this prettier, more successful, version of herself, and then having said variant fix half her social issues in one day before then absolutely tearing into her. The girl is a naive brat, but she does have the moral high ground here, even Aubrey can admit that. The one trump card she had over her turned out to be a fluke too. She was wrong earlier, the girl somehow didn’t notice that Basil was still crushing on Sunny, which means the flower boy was probably right about a lot more too…

“And you are nothing, nothing like the Aubrey I know, she is twice the person you’ll ever—” he had said, before being cut off by herself.

She hadn’t given his words much thought earlier, they had just been trading blows after all, both physical and verbal, so she simply chalked it up to a venomous yet hollow declaration, a desperate attempt to get under her skin. But now, she’s starting to think he might have been right, and she really doesn’t like that conclusion.

Looking at the girl in the question, Aubrey sees the girl shuffling in place awkwardly, her brows are knitted and eyes downcast. It’s clear she’s not really here mentally right now, she’s lost in thought, likely processing everything Aubrey just told her. Makes sense, until about a minute ago she was doing the exact same thing, and well, they are the sam—no. No, that’s quite enough of that.

They might share a name and a face, but that’s just about where the similarities end.

“Okay,” Aubrey groans, interrupting the awkward silence. “What the hell do I call you? We have the same name and I’m sick of thinking of you as my ‘other self’, it’s getting confusing.”

“What are you—I’m Aubrey, why do...” her counterpart mumbles in confusion, clearly unprepared for the sudden question. Her lips tighten as she finally processes Aubrey’s words, a look of reluctant acceptance falling across her face. “Okay,” she sighs. “You’re right, we can’t both be Aubrey, that’s just gonna get confusing.”

“...”

“...”

“Dibs!” Aubrey suddenly yells.

“Dib—damn it!” her other self curses, being one second too late on her callout.

Her pout earns a small smirk from Aubrey, who feels a small pang of pride at the sight, it’s definitely petty but it’s nice to have one small victory over her counterpart. Now, what to call her...

“Alright then ponytail, you got any preferences?” Aubrey asks with a smirk.

“Don’t call me that, contacts,” ‘ponytail’ snaps back, clearly salty about her loss. Frowning, the girl’s features contort in confusion, as she picks her brain for a new nickname. “...How about Aubs?” she eventually suggests.

“Nah, too basic,” Aubrey replies, dismissively. “Kim calls me that all the time.”

It’s along the right lines, but she just needs something more... unique. Something that will distinguish the two more, something beyond a simple shared nickname.

‘Aubrey, Aubs, Aub-rey... wait, that might work.’

“What about Rey?”

“Rey?” her reflection repeats, not even trying to mask her disappointment. “That’s the best you can think of?”

“It’s that or ponytail,” Aubrey deadpans. “Unless you’ve got something better in mind.”

The scowl she receives in response is both unsurprising and very telling.

“Guess I’m Rey then,” the newly named girl relents. “…We might as well talk boundaries too then whilst we’re at it.”

“Boundaries?” Aubrey asks.

There are a lot of things they need to talk about, and their respective recaps have barely scratched the surface, but boundaries? Really? As far as Aubrey can tell, the only boundary they need to worry about is the bizarre interdimensional mirror they’re talking through. Which in of itself raises so many more questions.

“Do’s and don’ts,” ‘Rey’ clarifies. “Figured since we’re stuck like this for the foreseeable future, we should check what we’re comfortable with each other doing.”

Oh yeah, they are stuck like this. That fact keeps conveniently eluding Aubrey, and honestly, she's fine with that, the less she thinks about her current predicament the better.

“...I think I follow,” she replies. “But give me an example.”

“Clothes. I’m cool with you wearing my clothes,” Rey states. “Just make sure to do laundry.”

‘Oh, that makes sense.’

If they’re going to be cosplaying as each other for a while, then they probably should set some ground rules to make sure they don’t ruin each other's lives. Aubrey has already had a few close calls today, so this conversation might prove invaluable.

“Gotcha,” Aubrey replies, as her brain scrambles to find and assert her own boundaries. “I guess... also clothes then,” she adds lamely. “Not that I have many...”

“I’ll go next then,” Rey says. “Sunny… I don’t want him getting the wrong idea, so… just—just keep your hands off my boyfriend okay!”

Aubrey lets out a dreadful noise in response, a loud spluttering cough as all the air vacates her lungs. If she had been drinking it would have been the mother of all spit-takes.

Admittedly, she had been wondering when that would come up, God knows she has a lot of questions about their... relationship. But she did not expect Rey to be so forward about it all! Although she probably should have anticipated that, it’s definitely one of the bigger elephants in the room, well, that and Mari…

“What?! I wasn’t going to—” Aubrey goes to protest.

“G-Good.” Rey’s response is clearly supposed to be short and snappy, but the small stutter gives away her underlying anxiety. It’s clear she wants to move on already. But Aubrey isn’t going to let this slide so easily. “Kel, I know he can be annoying at times, but don’t be a complete prick to him, he—”

“Okay, stop!” she interjects. “I’ll lay off your friends, sure—I was gonna do that anyway,” she explains, her eyes narrowing. “But we are not just moving past that.”

“Past what?” Rey asks coyly. She knows damn well what Aubrey is asking, she’s just being a little shit about it.

“Sunny.”

Rey’s smug facade quickly crumbles upon hearing Aubrey’s blunt response, a faint blush forming on her face, which causes a cocktail of conflicting emotions to stir in Aubrey’s stomach. They both know there’s no dodging this conversation, Aubrey has questions, and Rey’s going to answer them.

“What about him?” the girl asks protectively.

“What... what am I meant to do?” Aubrey asks awkwardly, her own feigned confidence likewise coming apart at the seams. “Just call a break or something?”

“Don’t you dare!” Rey hisses, jabbing the mirror and, rather concerningly causing it to vibrate slightly. “What the...” she mumbles, taking a cautious step back.

“What do you want me to do then? I barely know the guy!” Aubrey exclaims. “And don’t touch that thing! Christ knows what it does!”

“It could be a way home,” Rey suggests, a hint of optimism creeping into her tone.

“Did you crawl through a mirror to get here?” Aubrey asks rhetorically.

Truthfully, the same thought had crossed her mind once or twice, but seeing the glass vibrate all but confirms her initial assumption.

It’s not a mirror, it’s a window.

“No...” Rey murmurs. “I just woke up here.”

“Likewise,” Aubrey sighs. “So, I really don’t think we should be messing with it.”

“But how...” the girl goes to ask, tilting her head to examine Aubrey’s side of the mirror. “How is any of this possible?”

“I don’t know, and frankly I’m trying not to think about it too much!” Aubrey replies both honestly and frantically. “Now stop dodging my question! What the hell am I supposed to do about Sunny?!”

Basil she can handle, the worst is likely already out of the way with him. Kel she always considered to be a moron, but Rey’s words have her questioning that perception, so she can learn to tolerate his antics for a while. Hero and Mari... well, she’ll cross that bridge when she has to. But Sunny? He’s an immediate issue, and one she has no idea how to handle.

His accident, their relationship, all those years of friendship and... more.

She never shared those experiences with him. The boy she knew disappeared into his house almost four years ago now and only resurfaced today. She doesn’t know this Sunny, and she has absolutely no idea how to act around him! Relationships aren’t really something she has much experience with—being a feared delinquent doesn’t exactly help foster those kinds of bonds.

So suddenly being thrust into something so established, and with a former close friend no less... it’s a whole new ball game for her.

“Just...” Rey hesitates, her cheeks faintly dusted red with embarrassment. “Act like a friend but more... intimate?”

“Intimate?!” Aubrey splutters, producing a noise akin to a deflating balloon. Her own face now burning bright red, she gives her equally flustered counterpart an incredulous look. “I thought you said hands off!”

“T-That’s not what I meant!” Rey panics, raising her arms in mock surrender. “I mean like hand-holding and hugs and stuff!”

Okay, that’s manageable. Embarrassing, but manageable.

“Jesus, Rey—work on your phrasing!” Aubrey scolds, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“S-Sorry,” her counterpart replies sheepishly, before her gaze hardens once again. “But don’t get too friendly,” she warns. “Just keep it to the bare minimum! And try not to get me dumped!”

You don’t have to be a genius to figure out that the girl is terrified Aubrey is going to steal her boyfriend. Obviously, that’s absurd, but she doesn’t have the time or patience to explain that to her reflection.

“I’ll do my best,” Aubrey replies, settling on platitude over further confrontation.

“Thank you,” Rey replies earnestly.

Her response is genuine, way too genuine, especially compared to Aubrey’s shallow reassurance.

It causes the delinquent pause and sits surprisingly heavy on her heart.

Rey wears her emotions on her sleeve, even from the first words they shared, it’s been apparent that she, behind all that righteous anger and understandable confusion, is above all else, scared. She fears that Aubrey will steal her life, and whilst that’s an outlandish presumption, it makes sense from Rey’s perspective.

Aubrey’s life sucks, and although her time in this world has been tumultuous, she has enjoyed parts of it. The prospect of staying here has lingered in the back of her mind, albeit as little more than an intrusive thought. But Rey doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Aubrey, someone she sees as selfish and cruel, has suddenly wound up in a world with everything she wants.

It’s only natural she’s worried about being replaced.

“I...” Aubrey goes to reassure her but pauses. She wants to tell her not to worry, that she has no intention of replacing her, that she won’t steal her partner nor her friends. But she can’t find the right words, so instead she averts her eyes and switches subject. “I have some more questions.”

“Ask away,” Rey offers, a tired smile on her face.

Truthfully, there’s only one real query she has left. A burning question that’s been itching at her brain this entire conversation. One she must know the answer to if she’s to get through even another hour in this bizarre reality. One revolving a subject Rey had so conveniently skirted around during her recollection. One she truly dreads the answer to.

“...What really happened with Mari?”

“Really, a ponytail?” Mari asks, halting her brushing for a moment.

“I was considering it...” Aubrey mumbles suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Normally, the young girl would go to Basil for help with her hair, but he’s not feeling too well today, and besides, she’s been begging Mari for some quality ‘girl time’ for months now.

It feels like they barely see each other these days. The closer they get to the recital the busier the Suzuki's seem to be. Some days Aubrey almost regrets getting Sunny that violin. Maybe that’s selfish of her, but no one said the instrument was going to cost her time with two of her closest friends! That is not what she signed up for!

Oh well, they’re together now, and that’s all that matters.

Plus, it’ll all be worth it when the siblings perform next month. She can’t wait! She’s got a new dress set aside just for the occasion!

“Well, I think it could work,” Mari says, a warm smile on her face. “You’d look cute either way!” the older girl beams.

“Mari...” Aubrey grumbles, embarrassed by the compliment.

“I mean it!” her friend insists. “You always take such good care of your hair,” she compliments, a strange expression suddenly forming on her face. “I’m actually kind of jealous,” she confesses with an awkward chuckle. Before Aubrey could express any concern, Mari’s smile quickly returns as she continues. “You’ve got to tell me your secret!”

“It’s nothing really,” she replies, abashedly.

Truthfully, it’s mostly thanks to good genetics. You wouldn’t think so looking at the girl’s parents, but Aubrey lucked out with her gene pool. All she needs is a brush and a basic routine and she’s all set. It’s a good thing too, she cannot afford anything more expensive than the simplest of haircare products. She had to beg her parents for that new dress, and even then, it cost her all her pocket money.

“Hm,” Mari mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the brush in her hand. “Mine’s a mess,” she suddenly states, running her free hand through her raven locks, her sour expression as clear as day. “Takes so much time to get it straight and it still doesn’t...” she trails off, a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry. Got a bit carried away there. Turn around please,” she instructs, raising her brush.

Aubrey complies, although she can’t help the worried frown she wears whilst doing so. As Mari combs her hair, the young girl’s mind races to find the right words to say.

“Your hair looks good though,” she eventually murmurs.

She feels the slight tug on her hair halt, and as she turns to face her friend she’s met by an uncertain expression that’s quickly masked by a wide grin.

“Well, I’m glad you think so!” Mari replies warmly, her tone conflicting with the smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“...You heard about that then,” Rey mumbles solemnly.

“Sunny told me,” Aubrey replies. “Then Basil explained the rest.”

“Did he now?” the girl asks, her tone a mix of bemusement and annoyance. “What exactly did you hear?”

That reaction certainly seems unprecedented. Throughout this entire conversation, Rey has spoken of the flower boy in the highest regards, excusing his transgressions, and even going so far as to call him family. So, for that same girl to now react like this seems... strange, uncharacteristic even.

Still, Aubrey wants the truth, and she trusts ‘her’ own recollection more than Basil’s or Sunny’s. Deep down, she’s still holding onto the faint hope that this is all just some huge misunderstanding.

“That Sunny broke his violin, Mari freaked out, they fought and she...” the pinkette trails off. “They fell and Sunny lost his eye. Think Mari busted her leg too if I remember correctly.”

She has had a lifetime of events either explained or referenced to her today, it was inevitable that some details would slip through the cracks. And while she feels terrible talking about such horrific injuries so casually, the fact is, if she lingers on the thought for too long then things are going to get messy.

Rey’s reaction is about what you’d expect. A distant look in her glazed pupils, a slight tremble to her hands, and a quiver on her lip. She wears an expression of repulsion and dread.

“Y-Yeah,” she stutters. “That’s basically how it went.”

At this point, Rey might as well rip out Aubrey’s heart and play padel with it, because she has had her dreams dashed so many times today that it’s almost comical. Her counterpart’s apparent disdain for Basil’s explanation had given Aubrey some small glimmer of hope that his words were all nonsense, that he didn’t know what he was talking about, and that Mari hadn’t...

“So... it’s true then?” she asks, just to be absolutely sure.

Rey’s expression tells her everything she needs to know before she even speaks.

“Did you doubt it?” the girl asks in turn.

“Yeah, kind of!” Aubrey replies, slightly annoyed by Rey’s dismissive attitude. “It’s hard to imagine Mari doing that...”

In the blink of an eye, Rey’s posture stiffens, and her face quickly cycles through a series of emotions: confusion, anger, sadness, just to name a few. Eventually, she settles on an apprehensive look, eyeing up Aubrey with a look that’s somehow both sympathetic and stern, like a disappointed parent or a tired teacher.

“That’s not what I thought you meant! It’s uh... a bit more complicated than that,” the girl stumbles over her words, whilst awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

Not wanting to get her hopes up, Aubrey raises a sceptical eyebrow, silently demanding that she elaborates. The girl looks uncomfortable, she aimlessly glances around the bathroom, purposely avoiding her gaze, before eventually closing her eyes, letting out a hefty sigh and then immediately taking a deep breath. It’s an exaggerated movement, like the girl had been completely deflated and then pumped back to size like a bike tire.

But Aubrey knows what she’s doing, she’s done it plenty of times herself, she’s following Mari’s old advice...

“It was an accident,” Rey states with absolute certainty. “And Mari... it wasn’t her fault—not entirely anyway!” she adds with a wince, her previous conviction crumbling as she continues. “Not that it was Sunny’s fault either—well, it was—but not entirely!”

It’s the same story she got from the raven-haired boy earlier. A senseless blame game, where somehow both everyone involved and no one at all is at fault. It’s head-wracking and nonsensical, and as Rey continues to ramble, Aubrey’s patience begins to run thin.

“Ugh! Spit it out already!” she interjects. “What happened that day?”

Rey’s posture slumps, and she pauses for a moment before eventually continuing.

“...I don’t know,” the girl admits with a sigh. “I wasn’t there. It was just Mari, Sunny, and... Basil.”

The way she says that last name is very telling. The hesitance, the instinctive frown, the general tone—it seems rather clear how she feels about the flower boy’s role in this story.

“You don’t trust him,” Aubrey guesses.

Much to her surprise, her counterpart does not react with shock followed by reluctant agreement, but instead a look of appalment and confusion.

“I’d trust him with my life,” Rey counters, sounding somewhat offended. “But...” she trails off, eyes downcast. “It messed him up, like really badly. He was... completely out of it, for quite a while. We begged him for answers but all he would was ‘they fought’ and nothing else.” The girl’s frown grows as she continues her recollection. “He got really tense when pushed for more...”

The guilt in Rey’s eyes all but confirms that she learned that last lesson the hard way.

Aubrey can almost imagine it now, a picture so vivid it might as well be a memory. Her younger self, so headstrong and passionate, bawling her eyes out whilst demanding clarity from a despondent flower boy, only to be met with panic and fear. If that didn’t dissuade her then she’s sure a stern scolding from Hero probably did.

“I think he blocked a lot of it out,” Rey confesses solemnly. “But then Mari was allowed visitors and when everyone asked her what happened she... took the blame.” The girl shudders slightly before carrying on. “She insisted it was entirely her fault and... I think Basil liked that answer.” The flash of disgust on her face makes it clear she hates the words the second they escape her lips. “Okay, not ‘liked’, but I think he found it easier to accept.”

“Think he’s hiding something?” Aubrey asks.

It’s the only real question you can ask when faced with something like this. When hearing about an accident where the closest thing to an impartial witness clings to the first cover story he hears. Because it’s clearly a cover story, even Sunny implied that much, Mari was clearly taking all the blame, even if her friends were hesitant to level it towards her.

“No. He wouldn’t.”

Rey may dislike how Basil talks about the accident, but at the end of the day he’s her closest friend, she’ll never believe he would hide something so important from her, not willingly at least. Her adamance is admirable, even if Aubrey doesn’t fully buy into her response.

“So, what then? What are you even trying to say here?” she asks, growing tired of everyone’s constant tiptoeing around this subject.

“That... that you should just take everything you hear with a grain of salt,” Rey replies stiffly. “That’s what I did.”

“So, you don’t think she did it?” Aubrey asks, cutting straight to the point.

She’d already been pondering all the information she has on the ‘accident’. Sunny’s explanation, Basil’s clarification, those are recent memories, the flower boy’s story wasn’t even an hour ago! Rey is her, she trusts her own opinion, and that’s what Aubrey wants from her, not just the same story and same excuses. She knows to take Basil’s words with a grain of salt, the boy has proven himself a competent liar (even if Rey would deny any ill-intent on his part). What she wants to know is what Rey thinks. She lived through that tragic incident and had the pleasure of growing up alongside Mari. So, Aubrey wants to know what she thinks about the older Suzuki.

“...I know what you’re really asking me,” Rey eventually states.

The cryptic response throws Aubrey a curveball. She furrows her brow and stares at her doppelganger, who remains undeterred.

“And what’s that?” she asks.

“She would never hurt him on purpose. And she would never hurt us,” Rey replies, her response hitting Aubrey like a truck. “I don’t know what really happened that day. They fought, they got hurt. That’s all I know and all that matters.” She frowns a little before carrying on. “Mari’s not perfect, neither is Sunny, but I love them both. And I know they’d never hurt me—or you for that matter. They’re not her.”

Aubrey feels exposed, almost naked under her counterpart’s firm yet understanding gaze. She saw right through her and cut straight to the point.

‘Guess we really are the same...’

“That’s not what I—” she goes to argue, more to save face than anything else, before a splitting headache suddenly stabs at her brain. “Argh!” she curses, watching her double’s eyes widen as her own vision doubles.

The world is a blur, she stumbles forward, one hand clutching the sink for support and the other firmly against the side of her head. Rey’s concerned calls fade into static as Aubrey struggles to stay upright. It’s like a jagged knife has been lodged into her forehead and is being slowly twisted with every strained breath she takes.

“Aubrey!”

Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

Reeling away from the sink, Aubrey staggers back upright and struggles to catch her breath. Glancing at her reflection reveals a mortified Rey who lets out a relieved sigh upon witnessing her recovery.

“Has...” her counterpart goes to say, before pausing, shuddering, and then finally mustering the will to continue. “Has that happened to you before?”

It’s amazing how such a simple question can induce such dread. She’s glad the subject matter has changed, but she’s not exactly thrilled about what it’s changed to.

“Headaches are normal,” Aubrey replies dismissively. “Especially given the circumstances,” she grumbles.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rey observes.

She’d been trying to ignore them, to write them off as a product of stress or just another strange occurrence in a series of bizarre events. But the way Rey is talking, with concern and familiarity... well, it looks like they might have another thing in common.

“Yeah... a few times now,” she confesses. “You?”

“Dull headache throughout the day,” Rey replies, putting Aubrey even more on edge. “But I’ve only had one like... that. It was during the sermon, there were so many voices and...” The girl’s recollection pauses as her eyes suddenly widen, as if only now upon reflection realising she missed a crucial detail. “Have you had any hallucinations?”

If she wasn’t already freaked out, then she certainly is now. Because her question means this isn’t an isolated issue, both of them are going through this, meaning it’s definitely more than just stress.

“I—” Aubrey hesitates. “Y-Yeah, I saw blood on my hands... just before you appeared. Did—did you?”

“It was also during the sermon,” Rey recalls, a distant look on her face. “There was so much whispering, so many angry voices—but some of them sounded more... distant, almost like a memory and...”

“And?”

“I think one of the voices was yours.”

Her phrasing throws Aubrey off, her rising panic quickly dissolving into confusion tinged with frustration. Sure, there’s a slight difference in how they speak, her voice is sharper, more guarded, but it’s barely noticeable, and hardly enough to matter… right?

“You mean ours?” she tries to correct.

“No. I mean yours,” Rey replies confidently. “I didn’t get it then, but the way you talk—”

“We have the same voice!” Aubrey retorts. “How could you have heard me anyway? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Oh yeah,” Rey scoffs. “Because all of this makes sense.”

“Okay, fair,” she concedes. “Then what did then what did ‘I’ say to yo—”

A loud and sudden knock on the bathroom door startles Aubrey and cuts her off mid-sentence. Spinning away from the mirror, it dawns on her just how long she’s been standing in here talking to Rey. It’s hardly a surprise someone came to check up on her, she just hopes whoever it is didn’t overhear any of her conversation. That might be difficult to explain.

“Coming now!” she yells at the door, before quickly turning back to the mirror. “Okay, Rey make this quick I have to...” she trails off at the sight of the mirror. “...Go.”

She’s alone again, her reflection is her own once more. Just plain old Aubrey now. No more Rey, no more mirror magic, and certainly no more explanations.

She blinks a couple of times, fully expecting Rey to magically reappear. When she doesn’t, Aubrey lets out a loud exasperated groan. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she doubts she has the energy for either at this point.

“For the love of—” Another loud knock interrupts her cursing. “COMING NOW!”

Dinner is a quiet affair.

Polly and Basil make idle talk, discussing the weather, their day, plants (because of course), and a bunch of other boring stuff. Occasionally the flower boy will glance over at her with a strange expression, before quickly refocusing on the bowl before him. If she had to guess Aubrey would say he’s worried about her. She had the bathroom for quite a while after all, and her earlier remarks weren’t exactly comforting. She had awkwardly asked him if he had overheard anything earning her a confused look and a casual remark.

“Ha! No, these walls are basically soundproof!” he had said, chuckling nervously before sheepishly continuing. “Should I have?”

Having realised she probably sounded like a paranoid weirdo, she was quick to change the subject to dinner.

Speaking of which, Basil was right, Polly is a great cook. The curry is superb, easily one of the best meals she’s had in a long time, and frankly, it’s nothing short of a goddamn tragedy that she barely has an appetite right now.

Her stomach protests as she shovels down chunks of eggplant, the events of the past hour weighing heavy on her heart. It’s strange, she isn’t hungry, but the food is good she can’t help but force herself to eat.

If only that was the most daunting conundrum she must face.

There is a lot to unpack from her conversation with Rey, and she doesn’t even know where to begin. While a few of her questions have been answered, a thousand more have been raised. They didn’t even finish setting boundaries for God’s sake!

Idly prodding at her curry, she glances over towards Basil who happily laps up his own dish whilst chatting with Polly. Aubrey has no idea how to feel about him. Her hatred for his counterpart had initially extended to him. But after everything that’s happened today... well, she still isn’t exactly fond of the Basil from her world, but she at least understands him a bit more now, so she’ll definitely lay off the freak if nothing else. As for this flower boy? He’s done nothing but help her, even when she gave him plenty of reasons not to. So, by all accounts, she should respect and trust him wholeheartedly.

But then there’s what Rey said...

She had believed that he was an unreliable source, despite being one of the only three people present at the scene. Yet he sounded sincere when he was talking about the accident earlier, so either he was lying (something he has proven himself to be good at) or he’s blocked out some important details. If you had asked her earlier, she would have chosen the latter option in a heartbeat.

But... Aubrey has had her world shattered several times today, and she’s found herself desperately trying to cling to a simple narrative, to find an answer to an impossible question. It doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch to say he might have felt the same way back then. If nothing else, she certainly owes him the benefit of the doubt.

The rest of dinner is equally uneventful. She occasionally joins in on the idle chatter so as to not raise any more suspicion. She also apologises for messing up her room earlier, only for Polly to reveal that she went ahead and cleaned up the remains of the alarm clock she flung, letting Aubrey off with chide remark.

She’d had the same thought earlier, but it truly is surreal to be sharing a peaceful meal like this. Her own parents could never get through dinner without a fight. Yet here she is, sat with two near strangers, no blood ties at all, and somehow actually enjoying herself. It’s quiet and calm, the food is good, and the atmosphere is comforting.

She’s starting to see why Rey was so worried about being replaced. If the roles were reversed and she had all this back home, she’d be terrified too.

Once everyone’s finished Polly gathers the plates and goes to clean them in the sink. Aubrey offers to help but is politely turned down, handed yet another little luxury, she quickly makes her way over to the sofa and crashes down onto it. A second later Basil joins her, a comfortable distance between the two of them. He fidgets with his flower pin, clearly trying to muster the will to speak up. She’s not much better, her eyes dart around the room as she idly drums her fingers against the couch’s surface. After a long stretch of silence, she eventually turns and locks eyes with the flower boy.

“...We need to talk,” they both say simultaneously.

Aubrey blinks, then Basil blinks, and then after what feels like an eternity, the two collapse into hysterical, manic laughter, as a single stray tear trails down Aubrey’s cheek.

Chapter Text

As the weather outside continues to worsen, a constant flurry of raindrops taps against the windowpane. The heavier droplets make a distinctive ‘plink’ noise as they collide with the glass, splattering against its surface into a dozen smaller driblets. Aubrey watches as the water drizzles down the glass, the cumulative stream of raindrops forming a watery curtain of sorts, blurring the view of the outside world. Even so, despite the visual obstruction, she can still tell that the sky is much darker than it was before.

The clouds look angry, almost pitch black in colour; this storm is going to be a bad one, today’s downpour is just the precursor for the approaching tempest.

She hopes her roof will hold up well enough. Her dad will be really mad if he has to do emergency repairs in the middle of a cloudburst, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to get by with just a bucket for leaks this time around. Not with this kind of weather anyway.

‘I’ll worry about it later…’ the young girl thinks to herself. She’s not home right now, so it’s very much a case of ‘out of sight out of mind’.

It always is when it comes to her house.

Humming ‘rain, rain, go away,’ under her breath, she continues to watch the rain drops splatter against the glass, the constant drumming of the rainfall proving to be surprisingly relaxing. She’s always had a soft spot for this kind of weather; it’s weirdly calming in a way that’s hard to describe, and if it weren’t for the plethora of leaks in her house, then she’d probably go so far as to say that she loves the rain. There’s just something so strangely alluring about it; sure, getting wet sucks, but the sound, the atmosphere, it’s… mesmerising.

“Aubrey?” a familiar voice calls out.

Turning around, she’s greeted by a young boy with bright blue eyes. His blonde mop of hair is even messier than usual, likely only just having been dried a minute earlier, which makes sense considering they had just barely escaped the worst of the downpour. Interestingly, he also has his hands hidden behind his back.

“Hey Basil,” she replies, slightly flustered at being caught mid-daydream. “Sorry I was just…” she trails off as she looks back out at the downfall outside. “Thinking…”

She's hanging out at his place again, which is a fairly regular pastime for her. However, this approaching storm has stranded her here for a bit longer than her usual visits. Not that she minds of course. Sad as it is to admit, they’re pretty much each other’s only friend; she can’t even remember a time she didn’t know Basil. The flower boy has been a part of her life since like… forever.

“A-Ah, sorry to interrupt then,” he apologises sheepishly, forcing a small smile from Aubrey.

One thing is certain, he might be her only friend, but she certainly couldn’t have picked a better companion.

“Don’t be silly,” she chuckles. “I was just looking at the rain, it’s so pretty!”

“You think so?” Basil asks, clearly unconvinced. He slowly moves over to her side, his hands still tucked behind his back. "Looks kinda scary.”

“You’re not made of sugar,” Aubrey jests, glancing up at his messy blonde hair. “Though you kinda look like it,” she adds with a smirk.

“Because I’m so sweet?”

“Because your hair looks like cotton candy!”

Basil pouts at her comment, forcing another chuckle from Aubrey.

“I’m just kidding Basil! Don’t look so sad!” She can’t handle the puppy dog face he makes when he’s upset. “It doesn't look that bad! Honestly!”

It actually does look pretty bad, his hair is rarely ever tidy, but this storm has certainly not done it any favours.

“…What you got there?” she suddenly asks, having finally taken notice of his hidden hands.

“Oh!” Basil jumps, an embarrassed expression crossing his face. “I almost forgot —I got you something!”

Finally moving his hands from behind his back, he reveals a small potted plant in his grasp. It’s a small plant, especially compared to some of the more exotic flora scattered around the Flower residence, consisting of little more than a heart-shaped leaf sticking out of a small tub of soil. It’s simplistic but undeniably pretty.

“I hope you like it,” he adds, passing the plant over to Aubrey, who hesitantly takes it into her own clutches.

She does like it. But she’s also seen enough TV to know what such a gesture implies. It's not like he hasn't given her flowers before. But a heart-shaped one?

“Basil…” she mumbles, unsure of what to say next. “I didn’t think you felt—”

“A-Ah n-no!” he stammers, an embarrassed look on his face. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking!” he explains, glancing down at the plant. “Probably should’ve started with that,” he adds sheepishly.

“Then what—"

“It’s called Hoya Kerrii,” Basil explains, his eyes still locked on the small plant in her hands. “It does symbolise love,” he admits with an awkward smile. “But! It also symbolises affection, luck, prosperity and…”

“And?” Aubrey asks, not even bothering to hide her confusion.

Looking up from the plant in her palms to meet her eyes, Basil gives her a warm smile before continuing.

“Friendship.”

“What on earth are you two in hysterics over?” Polly’s voice rings out from the kitchen.

Wiping away the single tear that sprung from her right eye, Aubrey tries to catch her breath and muster a response. It wasn’t even that funny, but after all the insanity of today, something as trivial as her and Basil jinxing each other is just... weirdly hysterical.

Maybe she’s finally lost it. Most people would have by now.

Raised in a broken home, handed happiness and friendship just to have it brutally torn away at barely twelve years of age, forced to suffer through four years of suffocating sadness and grief, just to be randomly whisked away to another world where none of it even happened. Surely, in such a situation, going mad would be the only sane thing to do. Why bother clutching the steering wheel when this impending car crash she calls a life is already careening off the road? Maybe she already hit the guard rail hours ago, and that entire conversation with Rey was just some deluded hallucination after all. If nothing else, that would certainly explain why her counterpart vanished without a trace.

Car crash analogies regarding her degrading mental health aside, she knows that conversation was real. She knows all of this madness is real. She just wishes she was going mad, as at least that would make some semblance of sense. The human mind is easily deceived, and she’s had her fair share of trauma. Her life would be so much easier if she could just chalk today’s insanity up to… well, regular insanity.

“N-Nothing,” Basil stutters. Even at a glance, it’s clear that he’s not faring much better than herself, and given their current appearance, his earlier comment on the recyclists (or whatever he called them) comes to mind.

‘Mass psychogenic illness ey? Sure does feel like the world’s gone mad.’

“Aubrey just told a… r-really good joke!” the flower boy adds, lying between his teeth.

To think she was just giving the blonde credit for being a good liar, enough credence that she almost had Rey questioning the boy’s intentions.

“Seriously?! That’s the best excuse you’ve got?” Aubrey whispers in disbelief. “Where’s that silver tongue gone?!”

“I’m a bad liar!” Basil hisses in response.

“No. You’re just really inconsistent!” she retorts, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Whatever, let’s just hope she bought i—”

Her hopes are immediately dashed for what must be the fiftieth time today as Polly’s voice once again calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh?” the caretaker asks. “Mind if I hear it then?”

‘Shit.’

Once again, Basil has landed her in an awkward situation, and once again, she turns to him for support he can't give. His tense, yet apologetic expression makes her briefly curse her so-called 'choice' of guide.

“Uhhh,” Aubrey stutters, her brain racing to think of a good joke. After a tense second of silent panic, an old memory resurfaces, almost like divine intervention, bestowing upon her a half-decent pun in her hour of need. “Want to hear a joke about construction?"

“Sure?” Polly replies.

"I'm still working on it."

…

“Hahaha!” Polly chortles. Her laugh is warm and jovial, and surprisingly boisterous for someone Aubrey thought to be a fairly quiet woman. “That’s a good one!” she chuckles, before turning back to the sink.

“T-Thanks,” Aubrey replies, letting out a sigh of relief as she hears the caretaker resume her cleaning, occasionally laughing under her breath as she does.

“Did you get that from Hero?” Basil asks, his eyebrows arched with curiosity. “Pretty sure he told that one once.”

“Yeah, he did,” she confesses. “It was back when Kel bought that stupid joke book.”

“Oh yeah!” Basil’s face lights up with fond recognition. “Those puns were so bad haha… Say, whatever happened to that thing anyway?”

“No clue,” Aubrey lies.

After about one day of the joke book plaguing their friend group, she and Mari had decided the pun epidemic needed to be stopped before it could truly take hold. Sure, her older friend merely intended to hide it from the brothers for the foreseeable future, but she certainly didn’t complain either when Aubrey found them extra tinder for their campfire.

‘S’mores had never tasted so good…’

“…Suppose we should get to it then,” Basil sighs, bringing a sudden end to Aubrey’s reminiscing.

“Suppose we should,” she agrees with a sigh of her own. “You wanna go first?”

She’s done enough talking today. So, if she must go through yet another lengthy conversation, with it being almost certain that she’ll have to relive and reexamine some of her worst memories, then she’d at least like the chance to rest her voice first. Besides, she got the impression there was more he wanted to say earlier but didn't have the right words for at the time, and if she took anything away from her counterpart’s scathing critique, it’s to hear the flower boy out. 

“I… I honestly have no idea where to start,” Basil admits with a defeated laugh, glancing down at his own hands, he firmly clenches his right wrist in a vain attempt to steady his shaking hands. “Th-There’s so much—”

“Just—just be blunt,” Aubrey interjects, hoping to stall his spiralling. “Lay into me man, say what you’ve gotta say! …Trust me, I’ve probably heard worse,” she adds, Rey’s tirade creeping into the forefront of her mind once again.

“…Alright then,” the flower boy agrees. He takes a second, either to compose himself or think about his next words, Aubrey can’t say for sure, but whatever it is, his pause doesn’t last long. “What happened between us? In your world I mean.”

“I…”

She knew she was going to have to explain this to him at some point, she’d given him bits and pieces of the story all day, so it’s only natural he wants the whole picture. But she just recounted it all to Rey not even an hour ago, and now she’s feeling… conflicted about the whole thing. Sure, a part of her always knew she was going too far, but when she was finally being confronted on it (and by herself no less) all her reasoning, her justifications… they just fell flat. They didn’t feel like reasons anymore, they felt like excuses.

Obviously, she would never be able to justify bullying Basil to… Basil, but now? Now she’s not sure she can even remotely justify it to herself, let alone attempt to explain it.

Call it selfish, you’d probably be right. But thinking about it now… it all just feels wrong.

“Basil I—"

“Aubrey,” the blonde presses. “You need to tell me.”

She wants to make an excuse for herself, to run away from a problem she really needs to face head-on. It’s a display of uncharacteristic cowardice, and it disgusts her. But she just… can’t bring herself to tell him. Maybe it’s Rey’s words, or her own consciousness finally kicking back in, or more likely, a combination of the two. But she feels terrible, and she doesn’t want this Basil to know just how badly she’s treated his counterpart.

‘Scared of losing him too?’

Maybe she is…

Subconsciously, she’d wanted the Basil she knew to fight back for years, but he never did. She thinks she knows why now, and the answer sickens her. The two of them had fallen into a horrific cycle of abuse and self-loathing, one she eagerly perpetuated in a haze of anger and grief, all the while hiding behind a shield of righteousness. But Rey had torn down that defence, ripped it in half and exposed it for the flimsy excuse it is.

Because her counterpart was right. Sure, what Basil did… wasn't great, but he likely had his reasoning. God knows she couldn't bear looking at Mari's face in those polaroids some days herself. Either way…

“You didn’t have to bully him!”

She didn’t. But she did, and now this flower boy wants her to explain why, when she can’t even say herself anymore.

They’re not friends, but he’s been kind to her, maybe even a bit too kind. He allowed Aubrey to have a small taste of the privileges her counterpart enjoys here, and it’s been addicting. Despite all the tribulations, she’s genuinely had fun today. So yes. She’s scared of losing this Basil. But not just because he’s her safety net, but because—

“Aubrey.”

His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. His face is stern, or at least, he’s doing his best imitation of such a look. He can’t hide the slight hint of concern that underlies his expression though, the worry that tugs on his frown and brows, conveying more weariness than anger.

“Y’know… I kinda regret telling you to be blunt,” she admits with a sad smile.

“Mind if I keep going?” he asks, although Aubrey gets the impression he’s going to speak his mind no matter what she says.

“Sure.”

“…You almost killed me.”

He practically whispers those words, probably to make sure Polly doesn’t overhear him, and yet, he might as well have screamed them right in her face with how hard they hit. It's like he just walked up and jabbed her straight in the guts. He said the quiet part aloud, admitted what they both knew and desperately tried to ignore, and she doesn’t know what to say in turn. She feels sick, her stomach is in knots. She desperately wants to run. But she can't bring herself to move a muscle.

For all her burning rage, for all the pain and suffering she inflicted on her former friend, not once did she ever want him dead. And yet, she almost killed him, and not even him, another version of him, one who never did anything wrong to her.

It takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact. Her stomach churns in protest, guilt hangs over her like a looming shadow, and yet, she forces herself to keep listening. She needs to hear this.

“I get it was an accident, t-trust me, I get it.” His slight stutter betrays the reassuring façade he’s trying to put on. “But I need to know what happened between us—between all of us,” he clarifies. “Because I c-can’t have that happening again. If you freaked out towards me…” he trails off again. “Sunny, Kel, Hero, Mari… I can’t let you—I can't risk—”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Then show me!” Basil insists, his voice cracking slightly. He looks desperate, like he's mere seconds away from getting down and begging on his knees. “P-Prove I can trust you! Please! Just tell me what happened, tell me who I’m dealing with here!”

With his plea concluded, the room falls silent once again, the Flower residence left quiet save for the sound of running water as Polly continues washing the dishes, oblivious to the turmoil occurring under her own roof. The silence lingers for a long while afterwards.

Aubrey doesn’t know what to say. His logic is sound. She almost killed him in a fit of rage, after spending all morning tormenting him for the crime of simply resembling someone she dislikes. It was an accident, he thankfully seems to understand that much, but right now she’s still just a liability to him, a problem he desperately wants to give the benefit of the doubt, but can’t without some reassurance… without the full picture.

“…You won’t like it,” she warns.

“Probably not,” he agrees, his eyes downcast and shadowed by his fringe. “But that hardly seems like y-your choice.”

Aubrey can’t help the small smirk that forms upon hearing those words. She could get used to a Basil with some bite.

“You got me there…” she relents. “But before I tell you… I just—this morning—you should know that I'm really sor—” she cuts herself off as her face flushes with embarrassment.

‘You still can’t say it huh?’

It’s not that she can’t admit fault. She’s very much about to do so. It’s just… apologising now… it feels hollow, insincere, like another excuse.

“Yes?”

“Nevermind,” she dismisses with a sigh. She'll apologise once she's done telling him everything. Let him judge her for who she really is. “Let’s—Let’s just get into it, I think you can guess where it all starts…”

Lungs burn with staggered breaths, as unsteady feet guide a young girl down familiar streets. She runs and runs until she can feel her legs threatening to give in on her, and even then she still continues to sprint forward. Fresh tears likewise run freely down her cheeks. Her mad dash is taking it's toll on her body, her joints scream in protest, her breathing is hoarse and heavy, and yet, she continues onwards all the same. The watery winter sun hangs low in the sky, flashing the girl with bursts of brightness as she passes through the spindly shadows of Faraway’s bare trees.

Autumn has come and gone, and has claimed much more than the town’s leaves.

A long, lonely winter awaits Aubrey Williams.

Tunnel vision guides the girl back to her rotting home. She practically stumbles through the front door, which is unlocked as usual. Slamming it behind her and then barreling through the living room, she ignores the protests of her parents and races up the ladder to her room. Their cries quickly turn on each other, their bitter words still revolving around her, but now targeted at each other. Every issue presents a new argument and provides new ammunition for her parents. Aubrey is barely even a person to them at this point, just another point of contention, held in the same regard as missing beer cans and alleged affairs.

But that’s old news, the same story she sees every other day. Right now, Aubrey’s mind is fixated on something much more recent.

Collapsing down onto the hard wooden floor, she ignores the ominous creaking noise the boards make in protest, as well as the concerned whines of her pet rabbit. She flings Basil’s photo album down in front of her and starts to frantically flick through its contents. Every polaroid is tarnished with marker ink, every smiling face and happy memory is covered in crude scribbles, and as she removes each one from the album, she can feel her tears swell more and more.

“C-Come on, come on,” she murmurs to herself, desperately rubbing her sleeve against one of the pictures in a vain attempt to wipe away the stains. “Come on!”

Gathering the loose photos in her unsteady hands, she rushes them over to her desk, dropping a couple on the way. Placing them down onto its surface, she quickly picks up a new polaroid and resumes her fruitless attempts at cleaning, desperately hoping that the desk will serve as a better work surface. After another minute of pointless rubbing, she quickly casts that same picture down in a fit of rage.

“Damn it!” she cries. Choking back a sob, she lets out a pained cry, and in a fit of rage sweeps her desk with one arm, scattering all the photos around the attic. “…D-Damn it.”

Some of the polaroids flutter in the stale air for a second or two, and time seems to freeze as one passes right by her face. In that split second she instantly identifies which one it is. Even under all that ink, she still can recognise her own face smiling back at her, melon-flavoured popsicle in hand. Although the same cannot be said for the figure sat beside her, covered in so many scribbles it’s hard to tell there were ever two people in the picture to begin with.

The betrayal burns like bile in her throat. She’d just wanted to see Mari’s face one more time, but now…

“…Why?” she mumbles, looking out over the sea of scattered polaroids, clenching her fists as her tears continue to flow freely.

She had just wanted to reconnect with Basil, to spend time with the one friend she was certain she’d never lose, and he went and did this?!

Mari’s dead. She left them and she’s not coming back, these pictures are all that’s left of her, and Basil—Basil just…!

“Argh!” she cries, forcing herself to look away from the photos.

Facing her desk once again, she slams her fists down onto its surface, shaking the scarce few possessions she keeps atop it. Among them is a small potted plant, consisting of one green leaf in the shape of a heart. Having finally noticed it, she stares at it vacantly for a solid thirty seconds. In the end, instinct acts before reason, and so, before she even knows what she’s doing, the plant is firmly in her grasp one second, then in pieces on the other side of her room in another.

Aubrey stands there in silence for a while. Simply looking out at the mess of scattered photos that litter her room and the shattered remains of the plant pot. She can hear her parents yelling again, BunBun is shivering in his pen, and the scribbled-out face of Mari Suzuki is looking up at her. Judging her.

A moment later her knees finally give way, and she collapses down onto the floor, sobbing into her hands. She cries and cries, her weeping echoing throughout the dusty attic. But no one hears her.

She’s all alone now.

“That’s... about it,” Aubrey concludes weakly. “You wandered off back home, I went to bed and—” she stretches her arms out to emphasise the point. “—woke up here. The rest is history.”

She’s hesitant to look over at Basil, but after a second of silence, she nervously glances up in his direction. His expression is somehow both exactly what she expected and also a total curveball. He’s clearly conflicted, that much she anticipated, but he also seems… confused.

“Before you say anything,” she says, glancing at her feet. “I want you to know… I’m sorry.”

It’s funny. The words come so easily now. It took her almost killing the poor boy, being torn a new one by her own reflection, and then confessing her actions to Basil, but now she can truly say it.

She is sorry. She is so God damn sorry. Not just to this Basil, but the one back home too. She’d say things went too far, but truthfully, it never should have gone in this direction in the first place. She messed up, really messed up, and after four years of deluding herself into thinking otherwise, she can finally admit as much, just… not to the right Basil.

“I’m sorry about today, about how I treated you, what I said about Sunny, about the lake—Christ, Basil, I almost killed you! I never meant—” she rambles, her panic rising as she recalls this morning’s turmoil.

“…Aubrey,” Basil murmurs.

“—You just looked so much like him and—and I know I shouldn’t have treated you—him, like that either but I was just so angry and—"

“Aubrey.”

“—I miss her so much Basil, and those photos—they were all I had left of her, and I know you had your reasons, but I was just so—"

“Aubrey!”

The flower boy’s shout snaps her out of her spiralling, and despite the serious nature of their conversation, she can’t help but flush a little in embarrassment. She really was just rambling off for a while there. Today has done a real number on her mental health, she feels like she could sleep for an entire month and still want a lie in.

“…I wouldn’t do that,” Basil adds, his words vague, his face unreadable.

“What?” she asks.

“The photos… I don’t know if I ever told you—probably not considering… everything.” He shudders a little, an uncomfortable expression crossing her face, as Aubrey feels her heart pang with guilt at the sight. “But, the reason I took so many back then—honestly, the reason I still do now, is because… it’s—it’s h-hard to describe, but it’s kind of my way of…” he trails off again.

“Of?”

“Of holding on,” he replies, looking incredibly shamefaced. “Of c-cherishing what I’m scared of losing most… which—well, I guess that fear was pretty justified h-huh?” he adds with a sad smile. “So, if I l-lost any of you then… then the last thing I’d do would be t-that,” he explains.

Looking at the blonde like he has two heads, she remains in stunned silence for a few seconds, left utterly perplexed by his words. She had literally just come to terms with the fact that whilst shitty, his actions likely came from a place of grief, and now Basil is implying he didn’t even do it???

“But… you did,” Aubrey insists weakly.

It occurs to her how childish she sounds, there’s no argument or counterpoint, it’s the most simplistic of retorts, barely even a step above just saying ‘nuh-uh’. But what else is there to say? He had to have done it! …Who else could have?

“…Did you see me do it?” Basil asks cautiously.

“…No,” she confesses, biting her lip as a looming sense of dread takes hold. “But I found it at your place! Who else would have done it?!”

She can feel herself starting to panic again. It has to be him, if it wasn’t, then…

‘Then you tortured him for nothing.’

"You were probably just… grieving," she reasons, a pit forming in her stomach as she says the words aloud. She spent years tormenting him for his decision, and now she's practically defending his actions to… himself.

‘God I can feel another headache setting in.’

That’s another thing she should probably worry about. Rey suggested there was more to these constant migraines than just stress. God knows what exactly, but if the rest of today’s strangeness is any indication, then it’s probably nothing good.

‘One problem at a time, Aubrey.’

“I think I have an idea,” Basil eventually replies, the conflict in his expression as clear as day. “But I’m not a hundred percent c-certain,” he adds, obviously hesitant to share his theory. “You’ll have to give me some t-time to think it all over, but I p-promise once I’m sure, then I’ll tell you.”

A part of her is annoyed that he's keeping this from her, especially given his previous insistence on her complete transparency. But his growing stutter doesn't escape her notice, nor does his general demeanour. He's shrunk in on himself, his words are sheepish and hesitant, and his eyes nervously glance around the room as he compulsively fiddles with the fabric of his jumper. The boy oozes anxiety and bears an uncanny resemblance to the Basil she knows from back home. It’s obvious that whatever theory he has is one he doesn’t want to believe. So, maybe it's best she lets him dwell on that for a little bit longer first; give the boy time to gather his thoughts.

Honestly, she’d like to do the same herself, today has had enough bombshell revelations as is. She’d love nothing more than for some time to rest and think over today’s events, before she’s thrust into yet another big reveal.

“Y’know what, that sounds good,” Aubrey replies with a sigh. “I think I’ve had enough revelations for a lifetime…”

“That reminds me,” Basil starts, shifting the conversation once again. “You were acting really weird earlier. Did something happen?”

Ah right, she was acting incredibly suspicious after leaving the bathroom. She was just so caught up in that conversation with Rey, that she was not mentally prepared to behave like a normal person again.

‘How the hell do I explain this part?'

Seriously, there is no way she can explain that whole ordeal to Basil without sounding completely insane.

Then again, he’s dealt with all this shockingly well, and she should probably let him know his friend is alive and… okay, maybe not well, but definitely alive. So yeah, probably best to just cut straight to the point.

“I spoke to Rey in your bathroom mirror,” Aubrey states matter-of-factly. “Don’t ask me how that works, because I have no bloody clue. Probably something to do with however I ended up here though.”

“…Okay,” Basil replies, not even trying to mask his confusion. “But who is Rey exactly? And why are they in my mirror???”

“She’s not in the mirror Bas, it was like a magic window to my world and—I told you not to ask how it works! I don’t know how it works!”

Aubrey is certain they’re both aware of how insane she sounds, but what’s even more insane is the fact that she’s telling the truth and they both know it.

“But who is Rey???” Basil asks again. “A friend from your world? One of your hooligans?”

“No, it’s me,” she replies. “The other me, the one you know. I gave her a nickname.”

The flower boy's eyes widen upon hearing her words, and he practically lunges across the couch, crossing the distance between them in a second, until he’s mere inches away from her face. Shock, joy, and alarm are all visible in his expression.

“You spoke with her?! Is she okay??? Where is she?! Can I speak with her?! Is she still in the mirror?!” Basil asks, rambling off a series of similar questions until Aubrey eventually decides to intervene.

Placing one finger on his forehead, she slowly, yet firmly pushes the boy’s face away from her own. The blonde instantly goes quiet, an embarrassed flush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

“For the last time, she’s not in the mirror dude!” Aubrey replies exasperatedly, only to soften her tone upon seeing Basil’s growing distress. It’s obvious that he’s really worried about his friend. About her. She should probably be a little more patient with him. She barely understands this mess herself, so she can't exactly expect Basil to immediately get it. "She's… fine. Looks like we swapped places somehow, she's in my world now. We were talking through the bathroom mirror but when you knocked, she just… vanished."

“…It really is like that comic,” Basil murmurs in response.

‘Spaceboy, one-forty-nine.’

The comparison almost makes Aubrey burst into another fit of manic laughter with just how absurd and out of pocket it is. But the more she thinks about it, the more she realises just how apt the comparison is. The exact details of that issue are fuzzy to her, but she recalls that the two Spaceboy’s were exactly the same up until one key deciding point in their lives, a point of divergence that irreparably changed the two of them. She also remembers that the two did find some way to talk across universes, although she’s pretty sure it wasn’t through mirrors.

‘Guess I’m the evil double then,’ she thinks to herself, half-amused and half-disheartened by the thought.

“So, she’s… alright then?” Basil enquires.

“She’s doing about as well as I am,” Aubrey states. “Maybe a little better, probably a little worse.”

Even she can admit little Mrs perfect got the short end of the stick here. So, even if Rey managed to get the whole gang back together, it doesn’t sound like she’s having the best time. Then again, Aubrey definitely got the better deal here and she’s not exactly having the time of her life either. Which is almost funny, as not even a day ago she would have killed someone to have this life. Now she’s here and it just feels wrong. This world is great, but this life… it’s not hers.

No matter how much she wishes it was.

“But she’s okay,” she reaffirms, having released the flower boy needs a more confident response. “We spoke for a bit and… yeah, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

"Ha! Y-Yeah, that checks out," Basil replies with a sad laugh and soft smile. "No offence—”

“Dude, I almost killed you,” Aubrey deadpans, scowling slightly as she glares at her feet. “You’ve gotta stop apologising for me being a prick.”

“…Right,” the blonde complies.

It's obvious he wants to say something else. Maybe to argue against her? To reassure her? If so, he wisely chose otherwise. He'd just undermine his earlier point if he backtracked now. Basil was right, she's been the worst, and he needs to remember that.

“Say… do you think I can talk to her? To… Rey?” Basil suddenly asks. “…I miss her.”

“…”

What can she even say to that? It's such a strange feeling, to hear someone she's hated for so long, talk about her with such genuine care and compassion. Except he's not the boy she knows, and she's not the girl he misses. It's hard to explain how exactly this makes her feel, but if she had to pick one word, it would be ‘bad’.

“Well… if she randomly appears in my reflection again,” Aubrey says, pausing to scratch the back of her head. “Then I’ll uh, call for you.”

“…Thanks Aubrey,” Basil replies earnestly.

“Y’know, you’re taking all this way better than I thought you would,” Aubrey admits. “I half-thought you’d have kicked me out by now.”

“H-Honestly, I’m trying not to think about it all too much,” Basil confesses. “And I wouldn’t do that to you… you’re kind of a jerk but you’re still her.”

Ignoring the (admittedly deserved) backhanded compliment, his words ring a bell in Aubrey’s mind.

“I think he blocked a lot of it out,” Rey had said in reference to the accident.

Sounds like the flower boy has a bit of a bad habit here.

“You’re allowed to think about it y’know,” Aubrey suggests. “To take it all in, think it over… even if it hurts.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Basil replies with a tired and strained smile. “I’d rather not. N-Not right now anyway.”

“Fair enough,” she concedes.

Truthfully, she feels the same. There are a thousand things she’s putting off thinking about, but given the circumstances she finds herself in, she doesn’t have the luxury of putting them off forever.

“…Why do I get the impression you were hinting at s-something else?” Basil asks, having seen right through her.

“Probably because I’m a virtual stranger you have no real reason to trust,” she points out with a small smirk.

The look on Basil’s face is priceless, but he’s obviously upset by that comment. Likely because he knows on some level that it’s true. Despite his previous insistence not even a minute earlier, she’s not really Rey, she’s not even his friend. Sure, she’s slowly warming up to him, but she’s not the Aubrey he knows, and given her earlier behaviour, he has little to no reason to trust her.

Luckily, she might have a fix for that.

“Okay, I’m gonna be real with you,” Aubrey starts. “Clearly, we’re both hiding things here. Either willingly or just out of like, I don’t know a lack of context? Like not knowing things that would be weird to the other.” Sunny’s eye immediately comes to mind as a good example. Something Basil had neglected to mention because it had become so normal to him yet remained so alien to herself. “So let’s just agree to be more honest with each other,” she suggests, offering her hand to the blonde. “No more secrets. Complete transparency. Whaddya say?”

She expected some hesitance, maybe a look of contemplation or tentative curiosity. But instead, the flower boy proves to be incredibly receptive to the suggestion.

“Alright!” Basil beams, eagerly taking and then shaking her hand.

It’s a nice gesture, but despite the blonde’s warm smile and earnest enthusiasm radiating an almost infectious sense of optimism, Aubrey can’t help but feel that it’s ultimately rather shallow. If Rey’s right, then Basil might not even know what truths he’s hiding from her, and if so, a friendly handshake is hardly going to undo that.

He must notice her dour expression, as his own smile slowly begins to fade.

“Hey, I know things are super messed up right now, but…” he trails off for a moment, and although he’s staring right at her, his hand still wrapped around her own, Aubrey gets the feeling that he’s not truly looking at her right now. “I’ve got a feeling this is all going to turn out alright!”

“That so?” Aubrey asks, not so easily convinced.

“Well, this whole thing is like that comic,” Basil replies, releasing her hand from his grasp. “Have you ever known an issue of Spaceboy to have a bad ending?”

“Pretty sure that run got cancelled Bas.”

“Yeah, it did,” the blonde admits sheepishly. “But it still had a nice ending! I know that’s fiction, but with how strange reality is… I think this will too… eventually. Don’t you?”

‘No, not at all.’

“Sure,” she lies. “I don’t see why not.”

It's at moments like this that Aubrey can truly see the difference between her world and this one. Rey, her counterpart with half her memories and half her wit, is much like Basil. They’re both haunted by the accident four years ago, but compared to herself, they're practically innocent children. They experienced a fraction of the grief she has because whilst things here are far from perfect, they're a damn sight better than her own universe. Rey can’t comprehend a world where her friends abandon her, where her sister in all but blood leaves her behind. Whilst Basil can’t (or won’t) imagine an outcome to this mess that isn’t at least somewhat positive.

Some may see that as an endearing display of optimism, but she just finds it naïve and slightly frustrating.

Sure, they’re better people for their delusions, but Aubrey can tell the next few days are going to be one hell of a reality check, especially for poor Rey. Whilst she mostly feels bad for them, a small bitter part of her revels in this chaos, taking a sick satisfaction in watching these perfect caricatures crumble and collapse down to her level. It's incredibly petty, and rather cruel too, but at least now it's just a small voice in the back of her head, not the same driving force that set her on this morning's warpath.

‘Christ, I’m a mess.’

She wishes she could believe Basil, she truly does. It would be nice to buy into that optimistic outlook. But if she’s learnt anything from the past four years, it’s that people like her don’t get happy endings. Her path was chosen a long time ago; today isn’t a crossroads, it’s just the first sign of the horizon. She has a sinking feeling that this chapter of her life is coming to a close and that the final destination isn’t pretty.

“Anything else you wanna talk about?” she asks, despite wanting nothing more than to be done with this conversation.

“Want to? No, no not really,” Basil admits, likely feeling the same as herself. “There’s definitely more to talk about,” he muses, his face scrunching up like he just tasted something sour. "But maybe that can wait till t-tomorrow?" he suggests.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Aubrey agrees, happily taking the out. “Think we’ve both got a lot to mull over.”

“No kidding,” he mumbles, his voice practically a whisper, and words probably not intended for her ears. “I guess that’s that then,” he adds, slumping back into the couch as his posture noticeably relaxes.

It comes as a surprise to herself just how relieved she feels to watch him shift back into his usual self. To stop looking like the Basil she knows.

However, that only provides a temporary comfort. She can’t relax here. Even with the conversation concluded she still feels on edge. She needs some time alone, to just lay down and think over everything that’s happened today, maybe sleep on it a little. A nap, yeah, that’s what she needs, some quality shut-eye.

Rising from her seat on the couch, she can’t help but wince a little as a sudden pain in her gut reverberates throughout her entire body. Right, she almost forgot, she and Basil beat the crap out of each other this morning. No matter, this is hardly the first time she’s gone to bed with bruises. Doing a quick stretch, she hisses under her breath as her sore muscles scream in protest. She clicks her neck and chuckles a little as Basil visibly cringes.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“Bed,” Aubrey replies bluntly. “I’m shattered. Need some rest.”

“At this time of day?”

“You try hopping universe,” she retorts, groaning as she straightens her back, producing a notable ‘click’ noise.

‘God, is this how old people feel?’

“It takes a lot out of a girl,” she continues. “Besides, you really did a number on me earlier, you’ve got a mean right hook on ya Bas.”

 She intended that as a compliment, but in contrast to her own smirk, Basil’s face contorts into a weary and guilty expression.

“Sorry I—"

“Dude,” Aubrey deadpans. “Stop apologising, I almost killed you.”

“R-Right,” Basil stutters, glancing down at his own feet. Just as the pinkette turns to leave, he suddenly speaks up again. “H-Hey, I know you want some rest but uh, I was just wondering if you uh—me and Rey were going to—I know you’re not her—but would you want to watch…" he trails off after somehow stumbling over almost every word he spoke. “Actually, n-nevermind! You should get some sleep, it’s been a long day!”

His smile is so forced that it looks like his cheek muscles may snap from the sheer exertion. As if to balance it out, Aubrey responds with a deep frown. She feels like she should say something, but she’s probably said enough as is. She needs some alone time, and by the looks of it, so does he.

“…Alright then,” she mumbles dejectedly. “I’ll uh, see you later, y’know if I’m still here tomorrow and not back home.”

There’s a slim but not impossible chance that she’ll just wake up back home tomorrow. That would probably be best for everyone, which is why she’s almost certain it won’t happen. Life is rarely ever so considerate.

‘A girl can dream…’

“See you tomorrow, Aubrey,” Basil replies, not even bothering to acknowledge any other possibility.

Seems like they both know she’s going to be here for a while.

"Can I come over to your place tonight?" Aubrey asks, absentmindedly fiddling with a pencil she stole from class.

“O-Oh?” Kim splutters, an uncharacteristically nervous look on her face. “Sure! I mean, yeah, c-cool… how come?”

Another long boring day of pointless classes has come and gone. With the blessed sound of the school bell marking the end of her day in this academic purgatory and ushering her into her favourite part of the day. Hanging out with Kim.

“My place sucking not a good enough reason?” she asks, raising her eyebrow slightly. “I just wanna hang out with you for a bit, that's all," she adds casually. "If you're busy—"

“NO!” Kim cries, only for her face to flush with embarrassment. “I mean uh, nah, it’s chill. You can come over for a bit. Can’t spend the night though, sorry. Mom’s still insisting no sleepovers ‘til I get my grades up,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “I was gonna tell her about your whole uh… everything. But I figured you didn’t want me telling everyone about that.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s a shame, Kim’s couch is a lot comfier than her bed. But she wasn’t even going to ask about sleeping over tonight anyway. Truthfully, she hates how often she has to do it. But with her parents getting into a screaming match every other night, it's become something of a necessity if she wants a half-decent sleep.

It’s funny in a way. She never planned on telling Kim half the stuff she knows now, she didn’t even expect their friendship to last a week, but the delinquent has proven to be a reliable friend over these past few months. Plus, she’s smarter than she lets on, certainly clever enough to figure out Aubrey wasn’t so keen on sleepovers purely for the fun of them. Ideally, she wouldn’t have had to tell Kim about her home life, but the wannabe hooligan was pretty chill about the whole thing. Aubrey had always assumed she’d just get judged for her background, or worse receive that shallow sympathy people are so fond of sharing.

But no, Kim was genuinely respectful, she didn't judge her, didn't push her for more info, didn't pretend to understand, she just nodded her head and offered to help out where she could. It was a pleasant surprise, and it almost made her regret never telling Mari. She had always kept her home life under wraps. Mari almost definitely had some incline as to what was going on, and she straight up told Sunny about the worst of it. But only Basil actually saw her house, and even then, she never let him inside. Speaking of which…

“Say, mind if we pop by Othermart first?” she asks.

“Eh? Sure, why though?” Kim replies, chewing on the end of a lollipop stick, desperately trying to extract any remaining sugar.

‘You and Vance really are related, huh.’

“I wanna dye my hair,” she confesses with a sigh. “Think it’s about time.”

It’s a promise long overdue. Mari won’t be able to uphold it, but Aubrey will. Someone has to remember her.

“Oh shit,” Kim curses, fully understanding the implication of her words. "Yeah, of course! I've still got my stuff lying around, I'll spot you for the dye and we can get that sorted."

“Thanks, Kim, but you don’t need to, I’ve been saving up,” she replies.

Aubrey doesn't want to sound ungrateful, but this is something she needs to do. Obviously, she doesn't mind Kim helping, but buying it for her? That just doesn't sit right.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” her friend shrugs. “How come you wanna do it now though?”

Glancing past Kim she sees a crowd of her classmates making their way over to the school bus. All of them are talking amongst themselves, laughing and gossiping, with only a few individuals minding their own business as they stroll through the crowd. Then, at the very back of the horde, there’s one solitary boy, a familiar blonde, keeping a notable distance from the rest of his peers. He turns his head in her direction and they briefly lock eyes. She glares at him in response and he immediately turns away and quickens his pace.

Aubrey loosely clutches a few strands of her blonde hair, staring at them for a few seconds.

“I guess it just feels overdue.”

‘Blonde, blonde, grey,’ Aubrey thinks to herself, staring at the small ‘family’ portrait in the hallway leading to ‘her’ room.

It was one of the first truly bizarre things she witnessed today and the first sign that this wasn't just some insane fever dream or elaborate kidnapping plot from Basil. It freaked her out this morning, but now, staring at it, she just feels… sad. They all look happy here, like a proper family. The matching blonde mops make it so that Rey and Basil practically look like siblings.

Glancing around the hallway reveals that’s just one of several photos. As her eyes dart from picture to picture, she watches herself and Basil grow up together, watches as her hair goes from dark brown to blonde to pink, watches as Mrs Flower eventually stops appearing in the photos and Polly starts appearing instead. She feels her heart sink at the realisation of why and promptly decides to stop looking at them. Aubrey never had this, never lived this life, and yet somehow she still grieves having lost it. The only difference between her and Rey was one single day. She doesn't want to blame Mari… but Aubrey could have had this if she hadn't—

She quickly halts that train of thought before it goes any further. Mari was suffering, she made her choice, and they all have to live with it…

‘Except you don’t here. She lives here.’

…But that’s exactly it. Why? Why did Mari choose to stick around here? To keep living in a world where she maimed her brother but leave him—leave them behind in a world where he’s fine? Accident or not, that seems like the obvious tipping point. It almost feels like these two worlds got some details mixed up. It would make more sense if Mari lived in her world and died here! Not the other way around! There is a chance that Mari might still have those same thoughts in this world, and if so, Aubrey will do everything in her power to stop her from… from leaving again. She failed her once, she won’t do it again.

But if Mari doesn’t feel that way… then why? What happened here that made such a difference? Did they miss something? Did she miss something?

It’s obvious she’s not seeing the full picture here, but she has absolutely no idea what said picture could be. Mari's suicide never made any sense to her, but having spent a day here, it somehow makes even less sense.

“You must really miss her,” a soft voice calls out, instantly gaining Aubrey’s attention.

It’s Polly. She's stood in the hallway with a solemn yet sympathetic expression on her face. Aubrey struggles to muster a response, having been taken completely off guard by the comment. Obviously, she was talking about Mrs Flower, but for a brief moment, Aubrey wondered if she had been thinking aloud. Thankfully, that's not the case; she's not sure how she would explain herself mourning someone who's still alive in this world.

“She lived a good life,” Polly adds, her tone kind and calming. “And she’s in a better place now.”

“Yeah,” Aubrey agrees. “She is.”

That’s one thing she is absolutely sure of. Mrs Flower was a good woman, if anyone was going to end up in a better place after passing, it would be her.

There's an awkward stretch of silence following her words, with Polly clearly lost in thought, and herself unsure of what to say next. Aubrey has a feeling this is going to be a reoccurring issue. She didn't grow up in this world, so there is always going to be a certain level of emotional disconnect between herself and this world's residents. She can feel sad about Mrs Flower sure, but she can't truly relate to whatever Polly is feeling right now. It's not that she doesn't want to, she just… can't. She could say something, but she might just come off as insincere, and she hates shallow sympathy.

“I’m uh gonna head to bed now,” she eventually states.

“This early?” the caretaker asks, sounding eerily similar to her ward.

“It’s been a long day,” she admits with a sigh.

‘Understatement of the century.’

“I see, well, get some rest okay?” Polly says.

“Will do.”

With that somewhat awkward conversation concluded Aubrey quickly heads to 'her' room. Luckily, she remembers which one it was from this morning, although it does occur to her that said room likely used to be Mrs Flower's. She decides not to dwell on that thought for long, although she does briefly wonder where Rey slept before the elder woman’s passing.

‘Probably just slept on the couch or something,’ she reasons to herself. Either that or she and Basil used to share a room, which is another thought she doesn’t want to give much time to.

Taking a second to truly take in the room, she’s greeted by the same flower wallpaper seen throughout the rest of the house, albeit with a blue tint instead of the usual green colour. Said walls are covered in posters, some of which are of bands she likes, and a couple more are of some games she used to play at Kel’s place. Her exclusive Spaceboy poster is still there too, much to her relief.

An old console lies in a clear plastic box underneath her desk. Even at a glance, it’s obvious that it sees somewhat regular use, as there’s only a thin layer of dust coating it. Her eyes don’t linger on the desk for long though, as they’re quickly drawn to a large pen in the corner of the room. Bunbun sleeps peacefully within the enclosure, looking notably fluffier than she remembers.

“Even you’ve got it better here,” she muses aloud as she crouches down to pet the small fluffball.

Leaving the rabbit to it’s rest, she stands back up and continues to glance around ‘her’ room. It’s cosy, comfy, and overall, very her. Not the first time today, Aubrey finds herself feeling rather jealous of her counterpart. In contrast to the blue-tinted walls, her bedding is a bright pink, complete with fluffy white pillows, and a familiar eggplant plushie lying on top of them.

“Oh, Mr Plantegg…” she laments, picking up the old toy.

Despite herself, she gives the plushie a firm hug, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across her face as the soft fabric of the stuffed toy squishes against her skin.

‘I missed this.’

Mr Plantegg was her favourite, and if she’s being honest, only, toy growing up. She used to take it everywhere with her, but it went missing after Mari died. She never did find out what happened to it, and just chalked its disappearance up to the universe pouring salt on her wounds. She's really glad to see it again.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” she mumbles. “What do you think Mr Plantegg?” she asks, holding the plushie out in front of her. Using her right hand to make the stuffed toy nod it’s massive head in agreement, she chuckles a little before suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Okay, I think that’s enough of that.”

Carefully placing the toy back on the bed, her eyes squint as she notices something else on the bed, a small lump under the sheets. Tilting her head in curiosity, she moves the bedding out of the way, revealing… Basil’s photo album. There’s a small sticky note on top of it, which reads:

“Have a proper look this time,” -Basil.

There’s a small doodle of a sunflower next to his signature.

Aubrey figures he must have done this at some point after dinner, or maybe whilst she was in the bathroom talking to Rey. Either way, she wonders whether he still would have left her this had he known the whole story earlier. How she had tortured his counterpart over this very possession.

…Still, it’d be rude to decline the offer, and she has been curious about this thing for a while now.

Slowly peeling the sticky note off of the front cover, she scrunches the paper in her hand, compressing it into a small ball which she discards into a nearby wastebin, hitting a (rather impressive if she might say) shot from across the room. Plopping down onto the comfy bed, she kicks her shoes off, takes a deep breath and finally opens the album to the first page.

Unsurprisingly, it’s all the same old photos at first. Flicking through the pages, reveals nothing new, although it is a nice trip down memory lane, that is… until summer ends. It goes from birthdays and beach trips into the final few photos… into Sunny and Mari’s rehearsals. Those pictures always held a sense of foreboding doom, but with everything she’s learnt today… yeah, Mari’s smiling face doesn’t exactly provide the same comfort it used to. The description of the very last photo reads:

“After some begging, SUNNY came to join MARI for recital practice... Hehe... They're still working out some stuff, but they already sound so amazing! I know they're going to be great. Go, MARI! Go, SUNNY! You can do it!”

Reading each photo’s description makes it more and more obvious just how bad things were getting behind the scenes. That same page mentions Mari getting home late and getting flustered over her performance. It paints a picture of something horrible bubbling beneath the surface, something that in this world eventually erupted into… the accident.

Suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, she furrows her brow and contemplates dropping the album for tonight. She did come here with the intention to unwind after all, and this is about as far from relaxation as she can get. Still, despite her reservations, she ultimately resolves to carry on anyway. Taking a deep breath, she musters all her courage and flips to the next page.

It’s so surreal to see new pages in this thing. It had always come to an abrupt yet fitting halt after the rehearsal photos, but now there’s more, and she’s not sure how to feel about that fact.

There’s an immediate mood shift with these new photos. The rest of Autumn has been skipped in its entirety, instead, the photos pick back up in the midst of winter. The first photo is of that year's Christmas, it seems to be taken at the Suzuki household, if Aubrey remembers the layout of the house properly. It shows Sunny standing alone in a hallway, just barely illuminated by the streetlight pouring in through a nearby window, he's staring at a small, black piece of cloth in his hands.

‘An eyepatch,’ Aubrey realises. His eyepatch. The one he was wearing all day.

The description next to the photo is shorter than some of the previous ones. It simply reads:

“The past couple of months have been... difficult. But Christmas calls! I think everyone wanted to make sure SUNNY had a good one. I wasn’t sure what to get him at first, but I think he likes it.”

The next couple of photos cover New Year's Eve and by extension Hero's birthday party. There's one picture of Hero and Kel (fruitlessly on the latter's half) comparing each other’s heights, another photo shows herself chasing Kel with a sparkler, and the final one is of Faraway’s firework show. Its description is even shorter than the last, all it says is:

“I hope this one’s better.”

Aubrey wonders if her Basil wished for the same thing. If he did, she’s certain he was thoroughly disappointed.

The album always jumped across the year, Basil was very particular with what photos he decided to put in this thing. But even by those standards, the jumps in time displayed here are insane. They went from Christmas to New Year's in a single page, and now, these next couple of pages seem to take place near the end of Spring, having skipped the rest of Winter. If Aubrey had to guess, she’d say they probably weren’t hanging out as much in the aftermath of the accident. The thought stings a little, but it is a good reality check. A good reminder that this world isn't as perfect as it seems.

The first photo on the next two-page spread is of Sunny flying a kite whilst sitting next to Hero on a park bench. The former is wearing the black eyepatch she now knows to be a gift from Basil. The next one seems to be an immediate follow-up; the photo is slightly blurred and off-kilter and shows a panicked Hero chasing after Basil who has lost control of the kite and is in the process of tripping over himself whilst trying to steady it. The description explains that Sunny took this one because he wanted Basil to have a go with the kite, although the flower boy, quote “will stick to gardening from now on". Aubrey smirks slightly and glances at the next polaroid, which displays a rather impressive slam dunk from Kel, who’s wearing a black and orange jersey that’s way too big for him.

‘Guess that’s where the obsession began,’ she thinks to herself.

There are a couple more random photos, all of which are clearly taken from different dates from across the season. One of Rey (now with dyed blonde hair) and Kel arguing over Orange Joe, followed by another of her trying to bench-press Basil (for some reason), which according to it’s description “didn’t go so well”.

It’s the final photo that really gets her attention though. It’s a selfie of Basil and Rey, both wearing tired yet genuine smiles, the description reads:

“New Year, new roomie! It’s been a bit messy, but GRANDMA was kind enough to let AUBREY stay here for a while. It’s strange sharing a room, but I’ve always wanted a sibling! It’s like a permanent sleepover! I do think SUNNY is getting the wrong idea though… I should probably talk to him about that.”

Next to the comment about her being good company, there’s a comment scrawled in a familiar handwriting that reads: “Softie!”. Aubrey has a pretty good inclination as to who wrote that message, she can recognise her own handwriting after all. There’s another comment at the very end, right after the mention of Sunny that reads: “Huh? About what?”

Using basic deductive reasoning and comparing her own experiences to what she's seeing here, Aubrey is able to make a rough timeline of events in her head. She had always intended to run away in the New Year; Mom had been getting worse and worse with every passing day, and Dad was so rarely home that it was hardly a surprise when he just didn't return one day. In her world, she aborted that plan after realising she had nowhere to go, stormed out of the house in a fit, bumped into Basil and then beat the daylights out of him. But in this world…

Aubrey decides not to linger on the photo any longer, instead turning over to the next page. It’s mostly more of the same, it’s summer time and it looks like the group decided to do another beach trip. Interestingly, this is the first time Mari has appeared since the rehearsal photos. She feels her throat tighten at the sight of the young woman, but she can't take her eyes off her either. It's immediately obvious how tired Mari is, her hair is just a little bit longer than she usually keept it, there are noticeable bags under her eyes, and a small, jagged scar runs along her right cheek.

‘From the accident…’ Aubrey assumes.

Still, Mari is smiling here; she’s alive here. Tired sure, but alive and happy, surrounded by friends and family despite everything she’s been through. It takes her a second, but eventually, Aubrey realises that she’s smiling at the bonfire before her, more specifically, at the smouldering wooden cane at it’s heart. She had almost forgotten that Mari had to use one after the accident here. By the looks of it, she wasn’t a big fan of the thing.

Ignoring that detail, the photo is rather pleasant. Although, it is bittersweet to see them all going on another beach trip to Close Bay again. She hasn’t been up that way since… since…

‘That can’t be right.’

She hasn’t been there since she was twelve, and yet… it feels like she was just there the other day. But that doesn't make any sense…

Feeling another headache forming, she decides to keep scrolling, and as she does, the time jumps between pages gradually become less drastic. There are a couple of pages dedicated to this summer alone.

As Summer transitions into Autumn, Aubrey finds herself lost in the sea of smiling faces, she tries her best to memorise each one, to hold these memories she never experienced close to her heart. But it’s just too much, it’s overwhelming in a way that’s hard to explain, and so, despite her best efforts, much of the album's content becomes a blur to her.

There’s a photo of that year’s Halloween. Rey’s got her pink hair now and is dressed in an eggplant costume, Kel’s gone as a dog, Sunny as a pirate, Basil as Jackson, and Hero and Mari have just reused their costumes from last year, which is kind of lazy.

Another photo shows another Christmas; it’s the first new photo of Sunny and Mari together that she’s seen. The younger Suzuki is being crushed in a bear hug by his older sister. According to Basil’s description, she really liked her gift from him, although the flower boy neglected to specify what he bought her. Most of his captions now are accompanied by a comment of her own, this one simply reads: “SO CUTE!"

There’s a photo of a snow Kel. The next photo reveals it wasn’t a snowman dressed like Kel, but was instead the real Kel inside of a snowman. The photo after that shows them all sitting on the couch in the Flower residence, hot chocolates in hand. Kel is wrapped in a comical amount of blankets.

More photos blur together, and she goes through most of Spring barely processing any of it. She does take note of the first photo of that Summer. It’s Rey, rocking her trademark pink-haired ponytail… alongside Mari… with bright purple hair. The whole description is clearly written by Rey this time:

“Me and Mari finally dyed our hair together! I can't believe how cute we look! I also saw Mari with blonde hair, haha, I wish Hero could have seen that!”

Aubrey suddenly starts to flick through the pages a lot faster.

Months fly by, and she watches as her counterpart and her friends age with every passing picture. She sees countless park trips, movie nights, holidays and more. She sees a remorseful Basil dabble with the emo aesthetic and immediately regret it, watches Sunny cycle through a series of increasingly intricate pirate costumes every Halloween, witnesses Kel become more and more proficient with his basketball, gawks at a picture of Mari and Hero kissing under a firework display, and sees herself and the younger Suzuki becoming closer and closer.

She doesn’t even realise they’re already dating until she sees a couple’s cosplay of them for Halloween, with Rey as Sweetheart and Sunny as Spaceboy. She’s got her arm wrapped around him and is sticking her tongue out at the camera. There’s an uncharacteristically wide smile on Sunny’s face.

Frantically, she flips over to the next page and—

There’s only one photo across the two-page spread. A noticeably older polaroid of Mrs Flower, with a date scribbled on it, as well as “RIP". The rest of the space is filled with mournful memoirs from each of her friends. Letting out a shaky breath, she continues forward.

It doesn't take much longer for her to be all caught up. There’s Mari and Hero setting off for their next year at College, a couple of park photos, and then the final polaroid is dated as only being a couple of days old. It’s another selfie, showing Rey and Basil posed next to a stack of VHS tapes.

“AUBREY and I are gonna watch the entire JACKSON nonology! (That’s nine movies!) I’ve heard the first couple are really scary, but I’ve only ever seen the last few haha… Those ones aren’t the scariest." Basil's description reads. Next to it, Rey's rather blunt comment adds: "THEY SUCK!"

Then it stops. Just like that. The rest of the pages, what few of them remain, are left blank.

Aubrey feels a sudden wetness on her cheeks and wisely decides to close the album before her tears stain the pages. Moving it aside, she collapses onto the bed and absentmindedly stares at the ceiling.

What else is there to even say at this point? She knew she’d been robbed of her childhood—she’s known that for a long time now. But to see it, to know what she could have had if things had just gone a little differently...

It’s soul-crushing.

Like some deep, jagged gash in her soul has been torn even wider.

She tries to close her eyes, but as she does, her mind is flooded with memories she never lived through. Pictures of purple hair and smiling Suzukis plague her thoughts. Cycling endlessly through envy, grief, and bitterness, all she can think of is what she lost. She wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on her worst enemies.

To know what could have been is a curse.

Tilting her head to the side, her tears trail down her face, soaking into the fabric below and forming a small damp patch on her pillow. Her eyes drift over to her desk—specifically, to an item she’d missed until now. A small potted plant.

A Hoya Kerrii.

“Wow,” Kim mumbles, appearing almost comically slack-jawed. “I mean—damn! It looks great, probably my best work yet!”

Aubrey reaches her hand out to the mirror in front of her, caressing her reflection’s cheek. Her hair is a bright, electric pink. It’s exactly what she imagined. Beautiful but badass. She just wishes Mari could see her now.

“Uhhh, Aubs, you’re crying,” Kim notes.

“It’s the chemicals,” Aubrey lies. “They're stinging my eyes… You did a good job Kim… thank you.”

“Anytime!”

‘Mari… am I still pretty?’

Once the tears dry up, Aubrey ends up getting changed into her counterpart's pyjamas. Although, it'd be more accurate to say she haphazardly stripped down to her underwear and flung on the baggiest shirt she could find in Rey’s drawer. It’s a black shirt with a white cat silhouette on the front. Not really her style, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that she and Rey aren’t as similar as they seem. Besides, it’s comfy, and that’s all that matters.

Some people might consider it a step backwards to curl up in bed and sob into your old plushie. God knows she spent enough of her childhood doing that. But it doesn't feel like regression. If anything, it almost feels like a step forward.

Today has been emotionally draining on a scale that’s hard to quantify. But she got through it.

There’s still a lot to fix and a lot more to set straight, sure, but she made it through today, and that’s good enough for now. Tomorrow, she’ll wake a girl reborn, ready to face whatever trials this universe throws at her next.

'So bring it on,' she thinks to herself, smiling softly as she rests in bed.

Today has been one of the worst days of her life, but it’s also been eye-opening—and actually, kind of fun at times. Her mind is still a sea of turmoil and regret, but deep down… she’s grateful for the day's events. She likes to think she would’ve come to the same conclusion about Basil on her own eventually, but sometimes… well, sometimes you’ve just got to learn things the hard way.

However, if tomorrow proves to be easier, then she will not be complaining.

Chapter Text

Imagine if you will that you’re at a crossroads. It doesn’t matter where, when or why, just that you’re stood there with the simplest of choices.

Go left, or go right?

Say you took the left, you walked down that road, humming a tune to yourself as you go, then you reached your destination, moved on and then lived the rest of your life without a care in the world. In a few years, you’d probably forget you even made that choice; it’d be nothing more than a distant memory, something you wouldn't even give a second thought. It’d just get lost in the sea of other insignificant choices you make every day. Stay in bed for a few more minutes or wake up in time for school? Walk to work or get the bus? Buy a can of cola or of Orange Joe? …Well, no one in their right mind buys Orange Joe, but the point still stands.

Trivial choices are a dime a dozen. Thousands are made every day, and few among them are ever truly reflected on.

...But what if you took the right?

What if all it took to change your entire life was that one choice?

What if that choice wasn’t even yours to make? What if someone else made it for you? What if their choice led you down that path? What further choices would you make from there?

Just how much could a single day change you as a person?

Aubrey—or, just Rey now, she supposes, is one of the few people who has the answer to that question.

A lot.

The answer is a lot.

When she first locked eyes with her counterpart, Rey was confused and maybe even a little scared. Who wouldn’t be upon seeing a different reflection in the mirror? But longer hair, paler skin, glassy blue contacts, a variety of small scars littered across her body, a slight creak to her nose, and an (admittedly badass) delinquent attire, were all pretty clear indicators of who Rey was face to face with. It was her, the other her, the one from this world. And so, fear quickly morphed into recognition, which then swiftly shifted into a burning rage.

This was a girl Rey only knew from the aftermath of her mistakes. From her reputation in town, from the way Kel spoke of her, and most importantly, from the state she left Basil in.

Rey is a little ashamed of how quick she was to anger, and even more embarrassed by her initial assumption that her counterpart was somehow responsible for all of this. But she’s not exactly surprised either. Anger is something she’s always struggled with. It’s a fuel, an intense emotion that has aided in numerous wonders and countless evils throughout history. Rey always thought she channelled her anger into a righteous fury, only taking out her frustrations on those who deserved it. In truth, maybe that’s why she reacted the way she did to her counterpart. She is, by all accounts, a bully.

But her outburst didn’t feel very righteous…

Like all fuel, anger burns bright and fast, and even the worst infernos must simmer down eventually. So that’s where Rey is currently, resting in the embers of her fury, and feeling pretty shitty about the whole thing.

Because even though Aubrey clearly needed a reality check, the hurt on her face after hearing about Sunny… that wasn’t faked, it was genuine. So, Rey can’t help but feel a little bad for… well, herself. All that truly separates the two of them is a single event, one day that went on to define them both. In another life, Rey could have easily ended up like her counterpart, and so, whilst Aubrey certainly didn’t help herself out much, Rey can still see that she’s (to an extent) a victim of circumstance—and given her current predicament, she can certainly empathise with that.

Plus, the two of them sharing a face does help.

Although all of this is not to say that she’s happy with her counterpart! No, she’s still pretty mad about how the delinquent treated her friends here. But thankfully, Aubrey at least seems to understand how messed up her actions were.

‘Too little, too late…’

Anyway, she's willing to let bygones be bygones. But what's annoying her right now is how difficult it is to try and negotiate with this delinquent—she just wants her own life back! And Aubrey’s refusal to give the obvious solution a try is becoming rather frustrating. They’re staring at a magic mirror, for God’s sake! One that reacted to her touch! Surely that's their best bet at getting—

“Did you crawl through a mirror to get here?” Aubrey asks rhetorically.

Well, she’s got her there.

“No...” Rey murmurs. “I just woke up here.”

“Likewise,” her counterpart sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So, I really don’t think we should be messing with it.”

“But how...” she goes to ask, tilting her head to examine Aubrey’s side of the mirror. It’s definitely her bathroom alright, she can even make out some of her products in the background. “How is any of this possible?”

“I don’t know, and frankly, I’m trying not to think about it too much!” Aubrey replies, her tone frantic yet dismissive. “Now stop dodging my question! What the hell am I supposed to do about Sunny?!”

Her counterpart is probably right. But this mirror is the first thing today that has presented any potential means of escape! She’s literally staring at her own world! That’s her bathroom! And all that separates them is a thin layer of glass. So, she would much rather linger on the potential way out right now! …But she also did kind of drop that whole 'don't touch my boyfriend' issue on Aubrey earlier, so her reaction here is pretty understandable. It’s not like Rey is scared about Aubrey stealing her boyfriend or something, but… okay, that’s a lie, she totally is. BUT IT’S A REASONABLE CONCERN!

“Just...” she hesitates, unsure of what to say and feeling rather embarrassed by the whole topic. “Act like a friend but more... intimate?”

The second the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. She imagines her face must be bright red, and by the looks of it, Aubrey isn’t doing much better.

“Intimate?! I thought you said hands off!” the delinquent splutters.

“T-That’s not what I meant!” she panics, raising her arms in mock surrender. “I mean like hand-holding and hugs and stuff!”

“Jesus, Rey—work on your phrasing!”

“S-Sorry,” she apologises sheepishly, before a sudden realisation hits her.

Her counterpart’s mind went straight to the gutter, and given how embarrassed she looks (and the fact they are the same person) it’s fair to assume that Aubrey does, at the very least, find her boyfriend somewhat attractive. Add on the fact that the delinquent is currently pretending to be her and…

Rey’s gaze narrows and her brows furrow as she stares down her counterpart.

“But don’t get too friendly,” she warns, her confidence crumbling almost instantly as embarrassment kicks in again. “Just keep it to the bare minimum! And try not to get me dumped!”

It occurs to her she’s kinda asking a lot from her counterpart. Maintain a relationship you have no experience with, whilst also avoiding anything more intimate than the occasional hug—it’s a task she would certainly struggle with, and she’s pretty sure she has more dating experience than her counterpart.

‘Oh God. She’s gonna get me dumped…’

“I’ll do my best,” Aubrey replies.

It’s a small relief, as despite her reservations, Rey does believe her. Mind you, that's largely because she basically has to; the alternative is way too much to worry about right now.

“Thank you,” she replies earnestly.

It’s silent for a brief moment, as Aubrey appears to mull something over, her face conflicted and hands nervously fidgeting. It's a strange look for the usually brazen delinquent.

“I... I have some more questions,” she eventually states.

‘It’s only natural,’ Rey supposes. They covered a lot in their little recap earlier, but it’s clear they both skipped over a lot of the finer details. After all, it’s pretty hard to summarise your entire life to someone. It’s only fair she gives the girl a bit more context where needed, just so long as her counterpart is willing to do the same.

“Ask away,” Rey replies, almost immediately regretting her offer upon hearing Aubrey’s reply.

“...What really happened with Mari?”

“I can’t believe you trusted Kel,” the other her states, a bewildered look plastered on her face. “I’ve only told Basil, and that’s just because he already figured it out.”

The ponytailed girl frowns in disapproval. Sure, she herself had reservations about telling Kel, but after seeing how genuinely concerned he was for this other Aubrey, her dismissive attitude rubs her the wrong way. Still, this is miles better than how she was acting just a few short minutes ago.

So, they are making some progress here.

“You should give Kel some slack, y’know.” It’s hard to believe she, of all people, just said that, and based on the delinquent’s expression, she’s also taken aback. “We spoke a lot today, he’s an idiot… but he cares more than he shows.” 

Her counterpart’s expression is unreadable, but Aubrey has a feeling she’ll take her words to heart.

“I’m going to tell them all eventually,” she continues, not waiting for her counterpart to respond. “I just don’t want to drop that on Sunny and Basil right away,” she adds, glancing away from the mirror for a moment. “I’m not sure how they’d handle it… Sunny especially.”

The difference between this Sunny and her boyfriend is night and day. To be blunt, he does not look well here. Not at all. Apparently, he hasn’t been outside in four years—which is absolutely insane, but his appearance certainly supports that story. He’s too pale, too short, parts of his face appear sunken, his eyes—plural—are almost completely lifeless, and he just seems constantly lost and confused. Not to mention how thin he is.

Seriously, she would like nothing more than to have a LONG conversation with his parents right now, because even if Mari isn’t around in this world, someone should have intervened the second the poor boy started to literally starve himself!

Just looking at him breaks her heart. He’s been reduced to a shell of the boy she loves, never having had the chance to become the brilliant person she knows from back home. And that just might be one of the greatest tragedies plaguing this world…

“I don’t think I will,” the delinquent murmurs, clearly unsure about her own plan. “Basil said it was a bad idea, but… I don’t know.”

“So what? You’re just gonna pretend to be me?” Aubrey asks. “Can you even do that? You barely know me.”

“I can do that!” her counterpart insists indignantly.

“Sure…”

‘Everyone is going to think I’m a total weirdo…’

“Guess I’ll do the same thing in the meantime,” Aubrey mumbles, nervously fidgeting with her ponytail.

She’s pretty sure neither of them truly knows how to pretend to be the other, which may prove to be… problematic. Although it is kind of funny, they’re literally the same person and yet they don’t know how to act like each other. There's a cosmic irony in that; she just wishes she had the energy to laugh at it.

“Just try not to ruin my friendships,” she sighs. “I’m trying to fix yours so—”

“Don’t give me that!” the other Aubrey interjects, clearly having taken offence to her words. “I appreciate you sorting things out for me and all, but don’t get so high and mighty about it all. You’re not the only one trying to fix things here!”

“What are YOU fixing?” she asks.

She probably came off as a bit rude there, but she’s genuinely curious as to what the delinquent is referring to. Sure, her life isn’t perfect, but it’s a damn sight better than her counterpart’s, so what could she possibly consider to be broken in hers?

A few minutes ago, she would have dreaded the possibility that this other Aubrey saw her friendship with Basil as a fault. But their conversation has made it apparent that this delinquent is beginning to regret her actions, so Aubrey doubts her counterpart is planning on causing any trouble on that front.

‘But what exactly is she fixing then?’

“Your friendship with Kim, duh,” the delinquent replies, like it should be obvious.

“With Kim?” she repeats, her voice laced with confusion. “Really? We… we were never really friends? I mean, we shared maths class, but never really hung out much outside of that,” she adds, mumbling the latter half.

It’s not like she disliked the girl or anything. They just never really… clicked. Sure, they hung out a couple of times, but most of their conversations were during maths, and when Kim got moved to another class, they just kind of… stopped talking. Kim did ask to hang out once, but Aubrey had a date and couldn’t make it. She did feel kind of crappy about that, but trying to rearrange it didn’t work out—Kim got super weird about the whole thing, and it all just kinda fell through from there.

It does make sense that this Aubrey would see that as an issue though. From what she’s gathered, the two of them are rather close in this universe. It honestly makes her feel a little bad about not reaching out more…

“Well, there’s your issue then,” the delinquent frowns, not even bothering to hide her contempt. “You’re missing out on a good bestie… and it looks like you could use one—seriously, what happened to you? Is there… soil in your hair???”

‘That’s still there?! God damn it, Basil!’

“You’re one to talk!” she deflects. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush!”

It doesn’t escape her notice how her counterpart’s eyes briefly widen with panic as she glances at the grass stains on her jacket and the small bruises across her body. Aubrey has no idea what this delinquent has been up to today, and honestly, she’s not sure she wants to know. It’ll probably just stress her out even more.

“I… it’s been a long day,” her counterpart replies with a hearty sigh.

“No kidding…”

Rey doesn’t like talking about the accident and neither do her friends. Everyone’s too eager to simplify it, to dismiss it, to try and forget it ever happened. She’s long since accepted she might never know the full truth. It doesn’t sit right with her, but digging too deep never gets her anywhere.

Mari will always blame herself, Basil will always seemingly agree with that simplification, and Sunny will always freeze up whenever it’s mentioned. It’s been that way for years now. And so, that’s exactly what she tells Aubrey.

She tells the delinquent what she knows, what she suspects and nothing more. Because she truly has nothing more to give than that. Yet Aubrey keeps pushing anyway, digging for answers Rey doesn’t have, only succeeding in pissing her off.

First, she presumes Rey doesn’t trust Basil, something she’s quick to counter, then the delinquent asks if Rey thinks Basil is hiding something, and she tells her she thinks he’s repressing things, because he almost certainly is. Sure, there’s a chance he might be hiding some things, but the way he talks about the accident (on those rare occasions where he’s willing to discuss it at all) you’d think he hadn’t even been there for it. He always just echoes Mari’s words. The only detail he ever seems to truly remember is…

The blood.

Aubrey then asks Rey what she’s even getting at, and the ponytailed girl struggles to find the words to summarise her complicated feelings on the matter. So, she settles on telling her counterpart to take everything she hears with a grain of salt. Although Aubrey clearly isn’t satisfied with the answer, as she asks:

“So, you don’t think she did it?”

It’s at that point Rey finally sees what Aubrey is really asking her. It’s something she herself once worried about. She wants to know if Mari would ever hurt them… if she’s like Mom.

“They’d never hurt me—or you, for that matter. They’re not her,” she tells the delinquent, speaking the words she’d wished someone had told her back in those frightful, confusing days following the Suzuki’s hospitalisation.

Rey doesn’t know if her reassurances helped Aubrey relax or just stressed her out even more, as her counterpart opens her mouth to protest—but then stops, her expression going suddenly blank as her eyes glaze over. Before Rey can even process her sudden shift in mannerisms, Aubrey is clutching her head in pain and stumbling over, just barely balancing herself against the sink.

“Aubrey!” she cries, her voice dripping with worry.

As the delinquent staggers back upright, a pained expression still on their face, Rey suddenly realises what exactly just happened to her. It was clearly some kind of strange migraine… just like the one that she felt back at the church.

“Has...” she starts, only to pause and shudder, as the implications of her question begins to dawn on her. “Has that happened to you before?”

“Headaches are normal,” Aubrey replies dismissively, causing Rey’s heart to sink deeper into her stomach. “Especially given the circumstances.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she observes.

“Yeah... a few times now,” the delinquent reluctantly confesses. “You?”

“Dull headache throughout the day,” Rey replies, her panic rising by the second. “But I’ve only had one like... that. It was during the sermon, there were so many voices and...”

‘Oh no…’

“Have you had any hallucinations?” she asks, failing to hide the worry from her voice.

“I—” Aubrey hesitates. “Y-Yeah, I saw blood on my hands... just before you appeared. Did—did you?”

“It was also during the sermon,” Rey recalls, goosebumps forming on her neck. “There was so much whispering, so many angry voices—but some of them sounded more... distant, almost like a memory and...”

“—at her clothing.” 

“—completely inappropriate.” 

“—a weapon?!” 

“—cares? Mari’s dea—” 

“And?”

At the time, it barely even registered in her mind. There was so much going on at that sermon, so many voices ringing throughout the hall, that she failed to notice how out of place some of them were. Faint voices talking about things that didn’t make sense, speaking about things that weren’t happening and about people they shouldn’t even know.

Amongst that chaos and stress, she failed to identify the one voice that stood out the most. Her own, or rather, her counterpart’s.

“I think one of the voices was yours,” she states.

“You mean ours?” Aubrey tries to correct, giving her a strange look.

Rey can’t blame her for her reaction here; she herself can barely explain it. But that was definitely Aubrey’s voice back there.

“No. I mean yours,” Rey insists. “I didn’t get it then, but the way you talk—”

“We have the same voice!” Aubrey counters, clearly growing frustrated. “How could you have heard me anyway? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Oh yeah, because all of this makes sense,” she scoffs, airing some of her own frustrations with the situation.

“Okay, fair,” Aubrey concedes. “Then what did then what did ‘I’ say to yo—”

Before the delinquent can finish her question, a loud knock rings throughout the bathroom, somehow sounding like it came from in front of her rather than from behind her. Still, she instinctively turns to face the bathroom door, but before she can muster a response, the handle suddenly begins to move, as the door slowly creeps open.

In a panic, Rey glances back at the mirror and—it’s just her again. Her counterpart is gone. Her reflection is back to normal once again…

Should she cry? Laugh? Both? They all seem like reasonable responses. Yet she can’t find the energy to do anything but stand and gawk at her own reflection.

In the mirror, she sees Sunny enter the bathroom. She stares at him in the glass, and he stares back. Neither says a word for a long stretch of time. Eventually, the raven-haired boy tilts his head to the side, silently conveying his confusion. Sighing, Rey finally turns to face him.

“Basil send you to come check on me?” she asks.

Sunny shakes his head in response.

“Polly?” she guesses again, this time receiving a nod in response. “Right… better not keep her waiting then,” she sighs. “…Say, did you knock?”

She definitely heard a knocking sound just then, but it was coming from Aubrey’s side of the mirror, and she’s gone now…

Sunny, unsurprisingly, doesn’t reply, but he does glance down at his feet, an almost sheepish expression on his face. He may not have replied, but the answer is clear.

“Dude… seriously?”

The boy shrugs in response and Rey lets out another exhausted sigh.

“Whatever, let’s just go.”

“I came downstairs and…” she hesitates, her own hands shaking involuntarily. “She was there…”

Her other self remains silent; her expression is unreadable. Within it there are traces of pity, disgust, curiosity, fear, empathy, and more. It’s like a jigsaw of emotions. She truly has no idea what her counterpart is thinking right now.

“I didn’t think she—think mom would still be…” she trails off again, struggling to say the words.

“How long has she been dead here?” the delinquent asks, her blue eyes covered by her pink fringe, leaving only stern lips as an indication of her true feelings.

“About… t-three years now… I think.”

It’s still a vivid memory; she’d stayed the night at the Suzuki household, and hadn’t dared to return home till late in the evening the following day. It seemed like pretty much everyone bar herself wanted to call the police and report what happened, and whilst Aubrey certainly didn’t like her mother, her arrest would just complicate things. Half the point of running away was to get out of that house without dealing with any legal nonsense.

Still, when the time finally came to head home, Mrs Suzuki accompanied her. The woman was clearly intent on giving her mother a piece of her mind, but when they opened the door…

The sight was normal. The silhouette of her mother slumped on the couch. Empty bottles scattered across the floor. But the smell—

God, the smell.

Mrs Suzuki seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation sooner than she did, as Aubrey’s vision was immediately obstructed by the woman’s hands, and she was quickly ushered out of the house. Hasty, panicked phone calls were made, and for the rest of the evening, Faraway was plagued by the echo of sirens.

“…I see,” her counterpart mumbles, “Well, what happened next?”

“Well, I ran to my—Basil’s house, and he wasn’t in, and Polly didn’t recognise me, so then I…”

“So… is dinner ready yet?” Rey asks as she steps out of the bathroom.

Sunny nods his head in response, turns to leave, and then promptly sets off towards the living room. Rey goes to follow, but immediately collides with the boy as he comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway. Despite barely touching him, Sunny noticeably staggers, taking a good few seconds to regain their balance.

“Shit! Sorry, Sunny,” she apologises, unable to mask her concern. “You alright?”

He nods again, but Rey finds no comfort in the response. She barely even touched him! That should not have almost floored the boy. She swears, he is way too thin for a boy his age.

Seriously, where the hell are his parents???

Her own parents were total deadbeats, but his always seemed so kind. Mrs Suzuki always seemed quite fond of her, and his father… okay, Mr Suzuki does not care for her much, but apparently that’s just because he’s protective of his kids. So then, where is he now? Where are either of them???

Mari’s death would have undoubtedly changed them, but to the extent of becoming negligent? …That outcome doesn’t sit right with Rey, yet it’s the only plausible explanation she can think of.

‘I should have been there for him—SHE should have been there.’

Sunny once again nods his head in response, only to then tilt his head to the side as he glances behind her. Following his line of sight, she sees that he’s staring inquisitively at where her room should be. Where Mrs Flower should be…

“Sunny, I don’t think—"

Naturally, her words fall on deaf ears, as Sunny continues forward towards the foreboding door. She’d probably be more annoyed about being ignored if she had expected literally anything else to happen. This whole day has felt like she’s been swimming upstream, desperately moving against the current, yet being dragged down all the same. So yeah, she kind of gave up on the idea of things going her way a few hours ago now. Probably sometime between Sunny pulling a freaking knife on her and having an argument with her own reflection.

Wait, wasn’t she meant to be stopping Sunny from—

The loud creaking of a nearby door quickly draws Rey’s attention, forcefully dragging her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

“W-Wait!” she calls out, to no avail, of course, as Sunny has already crossed the threshold. “Oh, for fu—damn it Sunny!” she curses under her breath, before quickly rushing to catch up with her silent companion.

The same hesitation that plagued her at church creeps up again as she approaches the door. Thankfully, this time it doesn’t fully take hold; instead, it manifests itself as a mere second of self-doubt before quickly fading once again. She’s vaguely aware of it, of how daunting this should be, but her drive to stop her friend from doing something stupid pushes her through it.

Following Sunny into what should be her room, she sees the boy stood in place, staring over at something. Feeling slightly peeved, she clears her throat to get his attention.

“Y’know, Sunny, it’s kinda rude to blank someone when they’re talking to… to…” her eyes widen as she sees what—who he’s looking at. “…You.”

The room looks a lot like the rest of the house, a far cry from how she kept it back home, but almost exactly like it used to be before she inherited it. There are a pair of cacti, one in each corner of the room, a couple of hanging plants dangling from the rafters above, a small plant sits on a nearby table in front of a large bookshelf, and a single beam of sunlight shines through the window, illuminating the otherwise dark room and bathing a single plant in its shine. A white egret orchid.

There is a wheelchair in the corner of the room, with an IV bag right beside it. Most importantly, their owner is lying in the bed before her, their hair white hair just barely highlighted by a stray beam of light.

It’s her. It’s Hazel.

She’s fast asleep, her quiet snores filling the otherwise silent room. She looks exactly like Rey remembers her. Just like she did before she… she…

Her feet move on their own. She quickly passes Sunny, who hasn’t moved a muscle since he entered the room, and before she even knows what she’s doing, she’s on her knees next to Mrs Flower’s bed, crouched down to be at eye level with the sleeping woman.

This isn’t the first time today she’s encountered someone who should be dead. Her own mother, a woman who’s been buried for over three years now, was there when she first woke up in this world, living in a house that shouldn’t even exist. And on the opposite end of the spectrum, she came face to face with Mari’s grave only a few short hours ago.

People who should be dead are alive here, and those who should be alive are dead. Rey really should be used to this by now, she’s encountered it twice in the past twenty-four hours, and she entered this room fully aware of who would be residing here. But nothing could truly prepare her for this.

Her mother being alive felt like a surreal fever dream, if not a straight up nightmare, whilst Mari’s grave felt almost… intangible, like she saw it, sure, but it didn’t truly feel like she was looking at her friend. So, there was a level of cognizant dissonance with both of those encounters. But this? This feels very real.

“Hazel…” Rey mumbles under her breath.

The older woman had always insisted they call her grandma, something they had all pretty much been doing anyway. So it wasn’t until Rey moved into this place that she learnt the woman’s actual name, and even then, that was a solid month into living here.

“I still remember when you took me in,” she sniffles, unable to stop the tears that are already forming. “I was so scared… I didn’t know where they’d put me, the adults kept talking about an orphanage out in the city—but I didn’t want to go!”

It still feels like yesterday, crying under a blanket in the Suzuki household. Her friends nearby, wanting to comfort her, but respecting her need for privacy. The adults outside the room, speaking in hushed voices but occasionally getting a bit too loud. The bits and pieces she overheard just made her sob and shudder harder.

No one wanted her.

Not even the adults she thought liked her.

They were already parents to multiple children; they didn’t have the room, the money, the time, or anything she would realistically need. The most they could offer was a place to rest whilst they sorted out what happened next. But all their proposals were equally horrible! She didn’t want to leave Faraway, not while all her friends were still here!

Yet that seemed to be the likely outcome. Faraway was too small, they didn’t have an orphanage or CPS building here. Whatever happened to her next, it seemed all but guaranteed it was going to happen in Nearby City.

“Then you spoke up,” Rey whispers, smiling softly. “The only person willing to take the risk, to deal with all the legal nonsense.”

“I’ll take her,” Hazel had said, her conviction so strong no one dared speak to the contrary. “She can stay at my house while things are figured out.”

“You were good to me… You gave me a home, a real home… I never got to thank you for that,” she pauses, letting out a sad laugh. “You wouldn’t let me. ‘Just common decency,’ you’d say… but it wasn’t, there was nothing common about it. I’ve seen what my life could have been like without you, what I could have been like…” Rey instinctively clenches her fists, just barely choking back a sob. “I know none of this makes any sense to you… but… if you can hear me… then thank you. Thank you for everything. I really hope you stick around long enough for the other me to say the same. I know she still cares… deep down.” A strained sob finally crawls its way out of her throat; a few stray tears escaping from her eyes, as she tries and fails to maintain her composure. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

“I just... I never… I never thought I’d have to mourn you twice.”

A sad smile crosses Rey's face as she rises back up onto her feet. “But… at least this time I get to say goodbye.”

Rey hears a shifting noise behind her, and as she turns around, she catches Sunny hesitantly reaching out a hand towards her. He pauses as they lock eyes, only to quickly retract his hand like he’d burnt it on a stove. Before she can comment, both their eyes are drawn to the sound of the door slowly creaking open. Light instantly pours into the dark room, penetrating the shadows like a sword through a flimsy shield.

Basil stands at the threshold, his silent bafflement almost humorous.

“Oh,” he mumbles, his eyes widening as he takes her in, a surprised look crossing his face. His shock doesn’t last long though, as his expression is soon tempered by a look of understanding and perhaps even a touch of sympathy. “I didn’t expect to find you two in here…”

As if on autopilot, he quickly crosses the room and takes a spot near his Grandma.

“She hasn’t been feeling very w-well lately,” he stutters, his voice cracking slightly. Turning to look at Sunny, he looks him dead in the eyes before continuing. “…She can’t hear us, you know?”

The silence that follows is suffocating; the air is like ice; Rey feels goosebumps forming on her arms. Something about the way he said that was weirdly unnerving. She almost instantly feels bad for thinking that, but then she notices his gaze… and how he hasn’t stopped staring at Sunny.

About thirty seconds of uncomfortable quietness pass them by, and yet, he continues to stare at Sunny… not blinking once the entire time.

“Is she s-sick?” Rey forces herself to ask, whilst clenching her hands to keep them from shaking. It’s a stupid question, especially considering she knows the answer, but anything is better than this silence.

Basil sighs and shakes his head, before turning to face her with a pained smile.

“She’s old,” he states, a resigned tone to his voice.

Just as she figured. That’s what took Hazel in her world. Just… old age. No one lives forever, and even if Basil doesn’t know what she knows, they can both tell she isn’t long for this world. Rey can’t say for sure what made the elder woman stick around that little bit longer here, but maybe she just couldn’t let go until she was sure Basil would be alright. If that’s the case, then Rey will have to do her damndest to respect her dying wish.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the blonde boy asks, staring vacantly at the wall in front of him. “It’s nice to see you… b-both of you.”

Rey feels the overwhelming urge to get the hell out of this room. There is a shocking amount of tension here, it’s thick in the air, so thick she can feel it pressing down on her. Like gravity has just doubled.

She shouldn’t be here for this. It feels like she’s intruding. How is she supposed to help? Do they even want her to? The flower boy’s expression is practically screaming, ‘please, leave’. He clearly wants to say something to Sunny and yet… leaving them here… it doesn’t feel right.

The Basil she knows is like a brother to her—snarky, but reliable. This one, though? Well, there’s just something off about him. She didn’t notice it earlier, but she certainly does now. His mannerisms, his tone, the ungodly amount of sweat beading on his brow, it all screams ‘guilty’. Of what exactly, she hasn’t the foggiest, but his mere presence is activating her fight or flight instincts.

“H-How have you been? Everything okay with you two?” he asks, with a smile so fake it makes her stomach churn.

‘How have I been?’

What an excellent question! Let’s recap, shall we: she’s been whisked away to another world where her mom is still alive, Hazel is still alive, and Mari is dead. In said world, she still lives in a dingy attic, is hated by most of the town, runs a gang of misfit weirdos, and bullied Basil to the point of… well, whatever this is. She’s also been in communication with her counterpart, who, it turns out, is now living her life and is almost certainly going to get her dumped. Oh yeah, her boyfriend is a malnourished, emotionally repressed shut-in here too. On top of all that, she has absolutely no clue how to get home, and even if she somehow finds one, there’s a decent chance that the other her won’t even want to go back anyway.

Oh! There are also the strange headaches, auditory hallucinations, and the alarming implication that those are somehow connected to whatever multiversal shenanigans stranded her here in the first place.

So, how has Rey been?

“Alright, I guess,” she shrugs in response.

“C-Cool,” Basil replies, his eyes still firmly locked on Sunny. “And how about y-you?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“N-Nevermind,” the flower boy mumbles dejectedly.

It’s written all over his face—he wants to say something, it’s clearly eating away at him. He stares at Sunny with nervous longing, but then he glances over at her and quickly tempers his desires with reason.

Whatever is on his mind, she is not allowed to know.

Now, the sensible thing to do here would be to just excuse herself and let them talk. But for whatever reason—call it a gut instinct if you will—she can’t help but feel like that’s a terrible idea. Like, their conversation shouldn’t be had. It’s awfully presumptuous of her, she’s fully aware of that fact. Who is she to decide what’s best for two people she barely knows?

But…

‘They should not be left alone together.’

It’s a feeling so instinctive, it’s uncanny. Like there’s a voice screaming from the back of her mind to stay, to be between the two, no matter how uncomfortable things get. Why exactly she feels this way is an enigma even to herself, but in her heart she’s certain it’s the right choice.

“…A-Aubrey?” Basil suddenly.

“Yeah?” she replies in turn, sounding a bit sharper than she intended.

Her guard is raised. It’s not a conscious effort, God knows she would never want it to be, not around him of all people, but this room, this atmosphere, all of it is seriously putting her on edge.

“Tomorrow… w-when you—when you give the album back…” he stumbles over his words, almost like he can’t believe he’s saying them. Which, yeah, given their history in this world, that tracks. “Can you give it to S-Sunny?”

‘What?’

“What?” she asks, thinking aloud.

The flower boy’s demeanour changes in a heartbeat, quickly losing the uncomfortable aura he was carrying just a few seconds earlier. No, now he’s like a deer in headlights, quickly spluttering out explanations, sweat beading down his face. She figures he must be expecting her to bite his head off for this—her counterpart spent four years in turmoil over the ownership of this stupid thing, and now he wants to give it away? He probably thinks she’s about to smash his face in.

That theory is proven correct rather quickly as Basil continues.

“I k-know that must be a shock! B-But I swear—it’s just—I thought S-Sunny might want to—p-please don’t be mad!” he rambles.

“Dude,” Rey starts, her face contorted into an almost disgusted expression. Not directed to him specifically, but more, what was done to him to get to this point. “It’s yours. It was always yours…” she adds solemnly, glancing at her own feet. “If you want to give it to Sunny, then that’s fine.”

“R-Really?” he asks.

The sheer disbelief in his voice hurts her soul.

“Really,” she affirms.

Biting her lips, she internally debates continuing. It’s probably not a good idea to push him, but she is rather curious about his decision, especially given how important the album is to him.

‘…Screw it.’

“But… why? You spent so long trying to get it back, I don’t understand.”

“…A lot has changed since those photos were taken,” Basil laments, a sombre look plaguing his features. “Sometimes it all feels like a b-bad dream,” he adds, seemingly zoning out for a second—likely lost in recollection—before eventually continuing. “But, even though it’s sometimes hard to remember the g-good days, they did happen and maybe…”

There’s a solemn yearning in his face. Like a man lost in a daydream, picturing an impossible paradise, knowing he will never truly reach it, but still holding out hope he’ll see those distant shores.

“M-Maybe someday we can all go back to that,” he adds, with a small smile and a dose of cautious optimism. “That’s why… I want Sunny to have it. To remember happier days!”

Rey can’t shake the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that. But who is she to argue with his wishes? Her counterpart got so caught up on the album that she ruined the very friendships it was meant to cherish in the first place. She refuses to follow that same path.

“…Like I said man, it’s yours,” she mumbles. “You want Sunny to have it. Then he’ll have it…”

Basil’s nose scrunches, like he just tasted something sour, and he quickly looks away. That clearly didn’t land right. He’s failing at hiding that fact.

For a moment, he almost seems to struggle against himself, his mouth threatening to open, only to slam shut instantly. Whatever he wants to say, he’s trying his best not to. Ultimately, it proves to be a battle he cannot win.

“What changed?” he blurts out, the instant regret as clear as day in his expression.

Rey freezes.

She doesn’t want to answer that question. Because she’s what changed. She’s not the Aubrey he thinks he’s talking to. She can’t explain her change of heart, because there wasn’t one in the first place!

“E-Earlier, when I asked you why you were being nice to me, you said… you said that…” Basil continues, probably feeling like he’s in too deep now and not being satisfied by her silence. “You said you had a r-reason, you said it was w-weird, but you’d tell me later,” he recalls, his gaze hardening. “I want to know now.”

“…Basil, I—”

“SUNNNNY! BASIL! AUBREYYY!”

Rey almost jumps out of her skin, Basil lets out a harsh breath, as if the air was forcefully pumped out from his lungs, and Sunny remains unphased, because of course he is. They all recognise that voice though, that loud, irritating, voice.

“DINNER’S READY!” Kel continues, his voice blaring through the otherwise silent halls of the flower residence.

‘I hope Basil’s right, Hazel, I really hope you can’t hear anything…’

The flower boy meets her eyes. He wants answers, but whatever spark of confidence he had a mere second ago has already fizzled out. Glancing away, he turns to face the door, resigned to blissful ignorance once again. By all accounts, this is good news for her, it gives Rey time to plan out how she’s going to explain everything, without the pressure of answering on the spot.

Yet… it doesn’t feel like a win. She was saved by the bell. But Basil is suffering for her silence. Her perceived change in personality is freaking him out, and whilst telling him the truth now would be a terrible idea, it still feels wrong to just leave it here, to leave him wondering what changed.

“Basil,” she calls out, causing him to pause just before the door. He doesn’t turn around, but his posture does stiffen. He’s listening alright. “I will tell you. Just… not now.”

“...D-Dinner will be getting cold,” he replies, evidently wishing to just move on for the meanwhile. “We s-shouldn’t keep Polly waiting.”

With that, he quickly exits the room, leaving only herself, Sunny and the sleeping Mrs Flower behind. Turning to look at her silent companion, she sees that he was seemingly unphased by the entire encounter, which is… impressive? Concerning? Both? Who can say?

…Well, probably a therapist, but she isn’t one of those, and she’s guessing Sunny doesn’t have one. Which is another oddity, because his parents could definitely afford to hire him one, she’s pretty sure they did for Mari back home, for a while at least. Point is, he could definitely use one, but she supposes that’s just another piece of contextual evidence in the ever-growing stack of ‘implied parental absence’ she’s unwittingly gathering on the Suzuki’s.

Seriously, she likes his folks, but if they show up here, then she is having a serious word with them.

“Hey, Sunny?” she calls. “You uh… didn’t happen to catch anything I was saying to Hazel…? …Or in the bathroom?”

The raven-haired boy gives her a strange look but eventually shakes his head in response. She finds herself grateful for yet also slightly concerned by his complete lack of awareness. After a beat, Sunny turns back to face the sleeping form of Mrs Flower one last time, before then promptly taking his leave. Following his example, Rey goes to do the same.

“…Bye, grandma,” she murmurs solemnly. “Thanks for everything.”

Just as she goes to exit, her eyes instinctively land on the potted plant resting next to her. She still remembers it’s meaning in flower language; it was always one of her favourites.

The white egret orchid:

‘My thoughts will follow you into your dreams.’

Dinner flies by. Rey barely even processes the food as she shovels it down her gullet, there’s no taste to it, no pleasant stimuli on her tongue, it’s just an automated task. Scoop, chew, swallow, repeat. Worst thing is, it’s not even Polly’s fault, the food is as good as ever, Kel’s swift devouring of his dish proves as much, it’s Rey. She can’t bring herself to find comfort in this meal.

Part of it admittedly is simply because she’s lost in thought, lost in the descriptions of a life she never lived, but came eerily close to, lost in the implications of who she could have been and who she might truly be. Is the other Aubrey her shadow? Or is she the shadow instead? In the end, she supposes it doesn’t really matter, they’re both stuck in this together, even if Rey definitely got the shorter end of the stick.

Most of her… displeasure? Apathy? Yeah, most of her apathy towards this dinner is unrelated to the actual quality of the meal, or even the mountain of implications her conversation with Aubrey raised. No, mainly it’s because it feels shallow. Like a poor mimicry of her nightly routine.

Almost every day of her life for the past couple of years has ended with a nice dinner between herself, Basil and Polly. But this isn’t like that. She feels like a guest in her own home, eating a portion that only exists because the caretaker struggles with quantity control. It’s a poor imitation of the comfort she enjoys daily.

‘Shouldn’t have taken it for granted…’

Maybe not, but it doesn’t change how she feels.

Obviously, it’s not Polly or Basil’s fault, if anything, the fact that she was invited in the first place is an incredibly kind gesture. It’s just… this isn’t home, it’s a shadow of it, a trial run for a proven product, another luxury she’s been stripped of.

Even if no one’s to blame… it’s hard to not feel robbed.

Kel and Polly do most of the talking; the caretaker is quite the extrovert, and Rey can only assume she’s been starved of decent conversation for quite a while now. Her relationship with her ward does seem a lot more… tenuous here, and Rey doubts Mrs Flower does much talking these days. So, it must be nice to have a proper chat with someone for a change.

Alas, even their constant chatter becomes a blur in Rey’s mind. She stares vacantly at her empty dish until a sudden shaking snaps her out of her delirium.

“Dude,” Kel says, his hand still resting on her shoulder, his face marked by worry. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she replies, blinking a few times as reality comes back into focus. “Just… zoned out.”

“Heh,” he chuckles. “Looks like you’ve got competition, Sunny.”

The boy in question remains unphased by his comment, whilst Rey just gives Kel a disapproving stare.

“Anyway, I uh, think we need to get going now,” the tan teen states. “It’s pretty late and way past my curfew, haha.”

“…Right,” Rey mumbles, reluctantly agreeing with him.

It is late; the light of the setting sun no longer shines through the windows. Outside, it’s already gone dark. The day is done.

It’s time to go ‘home’.

“Cya, Basil! Bye, Polly!” Kel yells, way too loud for this time of night.

“Bye, Polly,” Rey repeats, feeling rather bittersweet about the whole thing. “See you tomorrow, Basil.”

“…S-See you tomorrow guys,” Basil replies, before quickly rushing back into the safety of his house.

The front door clicks shut behind them, leaving the trio of friends stood in the dark. It’s summer darkness at least, the kind you can still just about see things in. Not that she wishes to linger in it for much longer, it’s just that the alternative isn’t much better.

“Guess we should head home Sunny,” Kel says. “Hey, Aubrey, you… huh, you going to uh…” he trails off awkwardly.

‘Home…’

Her real home is here, the ever-floral, colourful and cosy domain of the Flower residence. It’s the only place she could ever feel comfortable calling ‘home’. But she has no place here in this world. She was just a guest—a visitor, who she’s certain wouldn’t be so welcome if Polly were fully aware of her counterpart’s actions.

So, that leaves Rey with only one real destination. Her old house…

It’s far from ideal, but she supposes that dingy attic is marginally better than sleeping in a bush or on a bench, albeit just barely. Whatever, she can survive it for the night, then figure out where to go from there.

“Hey! Why don’t you come over to my place for a bit!” Kel suddenly suggests, having likely picked up on her obvious distress. He can be weirdly observant when it counts. “Mom will probably be cool with it if I play it right! I’ll uh… just promise to do the dishes! For like… the next month!” he adds with an awkward laugh.

“You mean like a sleepover?” she asks, feeling much more eager than she’s letting on.

“Uhhh, no, sorry,” he apologises sheepishly, scratching the back of his head as he continues. “With Hero coming home tomorrow, I doubt Ma would be cool with that. But you two could come over for like, a couple of hours or something,” he explains. “I don’t know, it might be fun.”

His attempt at nonchalance is hilariously bad. He obviously wants them to come over; she finds it quite endearing. And honestly, it’s not a terrible idea. Sure, she’ll still have to go home eventually, but this hangout would delay that grim inevitability just a little longer. It would also give her ‘mom’ more time to pass out, which would probably be best for both of them.

So yeah, sounds like a pretty solid plan on Kel’s behalf. There is just one thing she wants to know about it though.

“…Can we watch a movie?” Rey asks.

She and Basil were supposed to be doing a marathon of all the Jackson films, but… well, obviously, that’s had to go on hold for the time being. She was really looking forward to that, though, and is seriously regretting putting it off last night. Had she known she’d wind up here, then she would have stayed up and watched the whole series with him twice over.

“Oh, sure!” Kel beams in response. “Think Hero still has a bunch of VHS tapes lying around, there’s bound to be something good among them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rey replies with a smile. “What do you think Sunny?”

The raven-haired boy seems to mull it over for a second, before eventually giving her a thumbs-up.

“Guess that sorts it then,” she states. “You sure it’s a good idea to look through your brother’s stuff?”

“Pshhh,” Kel snorts, as if the suggestion was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “It’s Hero? What’s he got to hide?”

“What about this one?” Kel asks, grabbing yet another VHS from the box. Examining the title on the side of the tape, his eyes squint as his brow raises in confusion. “…What’s a Slime Girl?”

Rey has no idea. It sounds familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on it…

Before she has time to question it any further, Sunny grabs the tape from out of Kel’s hands and shoves it right back into the box. His cheeks are faintly dusted red, and he refuses to meet their eyes.

‘Huh, wonder what that’s about.’

“Uhhh, okay, maybe not that one then,” Kel mumbles, a perplexed look on his face.

The walk back through Faraway’s quiet streets was mostly unremarkable. Well, other than Sunny insisting they stop and pet every cat they come across, only to stumble upon some kind of cat congregation at the park. Seeing him get swarmed by the fuzzy felines was pretty damn adorable, she can’t lie. But other than that, it was rather uneventful.

At night, Faraway lacks a lot of its natural charm, if anything, it almost becomes a little creepy; the dark streets conjuring images of endless suburban purgatories, with twisted monsters lurking in the shadows of looming trees.

‘I’ve been watching too many horror movies…’

Maybe it’s a good thing Hero didn’t have any Jackson films in his stockpile. Although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed by their absence. Then again, the collection as a whole has proven to be rather disappointing. The only films he has are some old cowboy movies, a couple of crappy romcoms and a Sweetheart film that none of them seem particularly in the mood for. The rest of the tapes are just episodes of cooking shows and whatever that Slime Girl thing was.

So yeah, pretty poor performance from Hero.

Speaking of which, the brother’s room is more or less how she remembers it, but… has Hero’s side always had so many trophies?

Rey used to find it really impressive as a kid, but now looking back and forth between his and Kel’s sides of the room, it just seems… excessive. Truthfully, she’s not sure what to make of the Hero of this world. He’s the only counterpart from her friend group that she hasn’t met yet, and between Kel’s confession and his apparent absence, she genuinely doesn’t know how she feels about him.

Her counterpart had barely mentioned him either. During her recap, she just flung his name in with Sunny in a passing remark about people who had “abandoned her”. Rey had pointed out that they were both grieving too and then explained what Kel had told her back at the cemetery. That certainly seemed to cause the delinquent some pause; although now that Rey thinks about it, she does get where her counterpart is coming from. Being abandoned by her friends was always one of her biggest fears and this world has only served to solidify that fear as rational.

Hero’s absence especially stings. Sure, she wasn’t as close with him as she was with Mari, but he…

 ‘He was still my friend…’

Mind you, Aubrey was completely delusional if she thought she was the only person he ditched. From the way Kel and his parents spoke, it sounds like Hero rarely ever visits Faraway these days. Which is rather sad but not very surprising.

Honestly, it was a miracle Kel convinced his parents to let them come over, they seem to really want tomorrow to be perfect, i.e. not have their living room trashed by a bunch of teens. But she supposes they saw Kel being with his friends again as more important… that or he really did promise to do the dishes for a month. Solid fifty-fifty chance on that one.

“Do you just wanna watch the cowboy one?” Rey asks, both aware of the limited time they have and feeling way too tired to keep searching for a better option.

The Rodriguez's were welcoming enough, but they did make it clear that it was very much a ‘one movie then home’ kind of deal—no sleepovers tonight. Although the matriarch of the house did seem to briefly reconsider as she looked at Rey’s sour expression. She had never been sure how much her friends’ parents knew about her home life until it became the talk of the town. But she does know that the Rodriguez's weren’t exactly leaping to house her in the aftermath either…

Not that she holds that against them. The Suzuki's were just as guilty after all. They all had their own kids to look after…

Anyway. The point is, Rey knows when to not overstay her welcome, so she was quick to agree to the woman’s terms before she could even finish reconsidering. She’ll have to go back to that house at some point anyway, if that’s tonight, then so be it. She doesn’t want to leech off the Rodriguez’s any more than she has to.

“Sure,” Kel replies, reaching back into the box and grabbing one of the tapes. “Cowboys are cool, I guess,” he adds with a rather unconvincing smile.

“Didn’t even know Hero liked Westerns,” Rey muses aloud.

“When he was like ten, he did,” the tan replies with a chuckle. “I barely remember it, but I swear he used to be obsessed with them, haha.”

“Thought that’d be more of your thing,” she replies, eyeing up his noticeably messier side of the room.

“Nah, pirates are way cooler!” he grins in response.

“Yeah… they are,” she mumbles, glancing over at Sunny, who still looks slightly flustered. “Shame there’s no Spaceboy stuff in here.”

“Yeah, could’ve sworn Hero had some of them lying around,” Kel mutters to himself, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Maybe he took them to college. I know he wanted to go watch that new one with his roommate—”

“THAT’S HAPPENING HERE TOO?!”

“Uhhh, yeah?”

Rey lets out a loud groan in response.

‘This world really is the worst.’

“Heh, I feel you there,” Kel chuckles. “The costumes look so cheap!”

Rey can’t help but smirk in response. He really isn’t that different from the Kel she knows.

“Don’t forget the casting,” she reminds him, laughing as his face sours.

“Ugh, don’t get me started…”

Two men stand opposite each other on a long dusty road. From the surrounding houses, curious onlookers watch with morbid anticipation. The air is thick with tension as the camera pans back and forth between the two duelists. It cuts rapidly from the two men’s eyes to their twitching hands, until it suddenly stops as the camera lingers on the protagonist.

His rival is framed between his hand and his gun, blurred but clear enough to recognise. Even with the intentional bokeh, the man’s smile is as clear as day. He believes he’s going to win this showdown.

A tumbleweed blows along the road, until after a long, tense pause, the silence is broken by the loud sound of hands slapping leather as both men reach for their guns. A deafening bang echoes through the town, but both men remain standing. The rival flashes a wicked, cocky grin, though his pride is short-lived as his eyes widen with fear, and a trail of blood trickles down his face like a bead of sweat.

The foe collapses to the ground, as the protagonist smoothly holsters his weapon, turning away and walking off into the horizon without sparing his fallen rival a second glance.

“This is actually pretty good,” Rey admits.

The movie is very of its time, with questionable effects and even more questionable character writing. But overall, it’s a pretty fun watch. They don’t really make westerns anymore, so it’s quite neat seeing one of the classics. Sunny certainly seems enthralled by it, he’s quite literally on the edge of his seat. She’s not sure he’s blinked once in the past twenty minutes, it’s… actually pretty worrying.

“Yeah, it is,” Kel agrees. “Wish we had popcorn though.”

“Same,” Rey sighs, lamenting the lack of snacks. “Thanks for this, by the way. I… I needed this.”

It’s no Jackson marathon, but it’s good enough. Plus, it’s the first time today she’s been able to take her mind off things. It almost feels like she’s back home again. Well, except for Basil’s absence and the fact that Sunny isn’t resting on her lap, he… really likes doing that.

‘Great. Way to bum yourself out, Aubrey.’

“No worries!” Kel replies, his smile as wide as ever, although it falters slightly as he continues. “It’s… good to be hanging out again. Even if you’re not actually—"

“KEL!” she hisses, slapping her hand over his mouth. “Sunny is right there,” she whispers, her eyes wide and frantic as she glances at the silent boy. Thankfully, he seems fully absorbed in the movie and completely unaware of what’s happening behind him. “I’d rather not explain everything to him tonight, so can you be a little more caref—ARE YOU LICKING MY HAND?!”

Quickly releasing the boy’s face from her grasp, she wipes his slobber on his hair as he groans in protest, trying and failing to swipe her hand away.

“That’s so gross dude!” she exclaims in disgust.

“I could barely breathe!” Kel counters. “You’ve got freaky strong hands, dude!” he adds. “Besides, Sunny isn’t paying attention! He’s like, totally out of it,” he explains, clicking his fingers in front of the boy and not getting any reaction whatsoever. “See!”

“That’s just concerning,” she notes.

“It’s fine,” the tan teen responds, waving his hand dismissively. “He did it earlier at Hobbeez!”

She practically snarls in response. Finding herself way too frustrated by his remark, she takes a deep breath before properly replying.

“Surely you know that’s not okay,” she deadpans, only to grow more worried as he remains quiet. “You do, right?” she asks. “Because—no offence, dude—I see him a lot more than you do, and he is not supposed to be like this.” Frowning, she clenches her fist and musters the will to keep talking. “He’s always been the type to get lost in his own thoughts. But this… this is different.”

Kel was right about one thing, Sunny’s so out of it, that she can speak freely about her world without worrying he'll catch on. However, he is most definitely wrong about it being okay, it happened earlier at Basil’s place, and there was nothing to distract him then! He is disassociating way too frequently!

“…Of course I know that,” Kel confesses, dropping the act himself. “It’s super weird! But like… what else can I do other than just be here for him?” he adds. “He leaves in a couple of days, and I don’t want him to feel weird or out of place. I just want him to enjoy his time here.”

She wants to argue against him. To insist they must do more to help. But… do what exactly? Neither of them can provide the psychological help he clearly needs, and even if they could, they just don’t have the time for it. He’s leaving in just over two days, and she’s supposed to be finding her own way back home.

“I guess you’re right,” she relents. “It just feels like… like I should be doing more. He did so much for me back home and I—”

“I think you being here is enough,” Kel interjects. “After four years of being cooped up in there, I think he’s just glad for the company.”

“He always did hate being alone…” she mumbles solemnly. “Thanks for never giving up on him.”

“No worries! Sunny’s my guy! …Sorry for not doing the same for you—uhhh, the other you I mean,” Kel apologises awkwardly. “Man, this is confusing.”

‘Tell me about it.’

“Just call me Rey,” she suggests. “It’ll make things easier.”

There’s something slightly depressing about not even being able to use her own name. But at least it’s not the worst alternative. Rey is a solid nickname; plus, it’s even further from her full name, which is good.

‘Seriously. Aubergine? What the hell were my parents thinking?’

“Cool nickname! How’d you come up with that?” Kel asks.

“I didn’t, it was—oh crap! I haven’t told you yet!” she curses.

It’d completely slipped her mind; everything since that bathroom conversation had been an indistinct blur. But Kel should definitely know about this.

“Told me what?” Kel enquires.

This is gonna be a fun one to explain… she’s only giving him the brief version though, she’s getting real sick of all these recaps!

The protagonist sits alone at a bar; he’s framed by the light pouring in through the saloon doors behind him. It’s a sharp contrast to the darkness surrounding him. He fiddles with his cup, swirling the liquid within, as a dozen angry eyes glare at him from the shadows.

‘I know the feeling, bud,’ Rey thinks.

“Woah,” Kel says after a long pause, the word escaping his mouth like air leaving a deflating balloon. “That’s… insane!”

‘No freaking kidding!’

“At least she’s alright,” he continues, seemingly lost in thought. “Can’t believe she ended up in your world, that’s crazy!”

Rey can’t help but narrow her gaze, giving the boy a disapproving look.

“Don’t sound too excited,” she scolds. “This ain’t exactly fun for us, y’know.”

“…You’re not having fun?”

Somehow, Kel’s sad pout is even sadder than Basil’s—which is saying something. It’s like a sad puppy compared to a kicked one. But the funny thing is, for once, she didn’t even mean to offend him! This wasn’t some snide slight towards him—she was just being honest!

“I mean… this is fun,” she replies, gesturing to the old TV. “Y’know, watching movies with you two. But like, as a whole…”

The tan shrinks as she continues, an abashed look on his face. It’s clear his words came from the heart, and he now feels embarrassed for even airing those thoughts in the first place. She feels pretty bad about it herself, but she doesn't see the point in lying to him. Sure, hanging out with him, Sunny and Basil has been fun but…

They’re not her friends.

This isn’t her home, her world, she’s just a guest here, a stranded stranger with a familiar face.

“Right,” Kel mumbles. “Sorry, I just…” he lets out a dry laugh. “I forgot you weren’t her for a second.”

Right… of course.

How couldn’t he? They look almost exactly the same. What’s a couple of scars and a slightly crooked nose to the average person? Kim, her best friend in this world, couldn’t even tell them apart. They all just think she’s trying out a new fashion style, and according to Aubrey, she’s having the exact same experience. Meaning that her own boyfriend is just as oblivious…

They could be stuck like this forever, and most people would never notice…

“I’m not her,” Rey murmurs. “…I’m not.”

“I know,” Kel replies.

A heavy silence settles in after his words, save for the sound of the movie and the distinctive crackling audio of the old VHS. Bathed in the light of the cathode screen, the three teens sit painfully still, one completely unaware of his surroundings, the other two desperately trying to mimic his disassociation.

The Rodriguez house is cosy, not quite as comfortable as the Suzuki or Flower households in her opinion, but cosy nonetheless. There are a couple of potted plants, plenty of photos, a couple of medals above the fireplace, some full bookshelves, a space for their dog Hector, and a few of Sally’s toys. Rey wasn’t sure whether the youngest Rodriguez would exist in this world or not, but apparently, Sally is a universal concept, which is great news because that kid is genuinely adorable. Seriously, babysitting her with Sunny was one of the few times she wished she had Basil’s hobby of surprise photography. That kid is an escape artist in the making!

‘She’s definitely going to grow up to be like Kel.’

Speaking of the Rodriguez's, a large family portrait looms over the living room. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Kel in a suit. It’s not a bad look on him honestly, but it also just doesn’t seem right. It’s like those little dogs that people put in ridiculous outfits—they clearly don’t like being dressed up.

Now that she thinks about it, she can’t for the life of her recall whether this portrait exists in her world or not. If it does, she certainly hasn’t seen it. Mind you, it’s pretty rare she goes over to Kel’s place these days anyway, so that would explain it. It’s not that she has anything against the boy, it’s just that when they do hang out, it’s usually outside. Then, if it’s indoors, it’s usually hers or Sunny’s place they go to. In a somewhat humorous twist of fate, this is actually the first time she’s been here in quite a while… and it’s in a completely different universe.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Kel who ultimately breaks the silence.

“It’s kinda disappointing,” he says. “Y’know?”

“…What?” she asks in turn, having absolutely no clue what he’s waffling on about. “That I’m not… her?”

“No! No…” he quickly backtracks. “Just…” he hesitates for a second, seemingly struggling to verbalise his thoughts. “I used to think about it a lot—other worlds and stuff. It was kinda hard not to,” he muses aloud. “I always figured that there must be one universe where things went right, where we were… happy.”

It’s funny, she actually used to think the exact same thing. Clearly, her bar for what a happy universe is was raised way too high.

“So, meeting you, hearing about your friends, about Mari…” he continues, staring up aimlessly at the ceiling, his posture slumping as he lays back into the couch. “I just thought I’d be happier.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“You said earlier that me and… the other me… were basically the same,” he recalls. “And I was just… sadder.”

Rey feels like she’s just been burned. She almost hisses from the sheer scale of the shame and embarrassment that follows his words.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I—"

“I get what you meant,” Kel insists. “But I am happy—I just assumed he was happier.”

He frowns a little, like he doesn’t even like the words leaving his mouth.

“Then I thought… even if I wasn’t, then surely…” he trails off once again. “I just figured there’d be more of a difference between us, y’know. Between when I’m sad and when I’m… happy.”

Rey doesn’t know what to say.

So, she just asks the first thing that’s on her mind.
“…Are you okay?”

“Huh? Of course!” Kel replies, a strained grin spreading across his face. “I’m smiling, aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to,” Rey responds bluntly, hoping to get to the heart of whatever his problem is.

“…I think I do,” Kel mumbles, his eyes cast on the floor, shadowed by his fringe. He’s certainly not smiling anymore. “Someone has to.”

Abashedly avoiding his gaze, she glances over at the TV. The movie is still playing, and Sunny is still enthralled by it. How she wishes she could be that disconnected from reality right now. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, or what to say, or how to help.

“Sorry! That got weird,” Kel laughs, grinning ear to ear once again, yet emitting no warmth and providing zero comfort. “Let’s just finish the mo—"

“Did you want to know about him?” Rey suddenly asks.

“Huh?”

“The Kel I know.”

His answer is clear to her long before his actual response. He perks up like a dog overhearing the word ‘ball’. There’s something of an attempt to mask his immediate interest, but Kel has never been a good actor. They both know what he’s going to say next.

“Yes.”

“Come on, Aubrey! We’ve barely even started!” the jolly giant yells.

Letting out a defeated groan, the girl in question replies by flipping him off, refusing to move an inch from the grass she’s lying on. It’s autumn, the sky is cloudy but there’s no rain in sight. The leaves on the nearby trees are as orange as the jersey of the boy she’s training with.

It’s rare for just her and Kel to hang out together. Normally, they’re joined by Basil or Sunny, but the former is out of town for the weekend, and the latter always gets antsy around this time of year. She’d like to go and comfort him, but she’s learnt by now that he just needs space; he’ll be fine again in a week or so.

It’ll be the anniversary soon. Almost three years since the recital that never happened.

To say that fact didn’t bother her too would be a lie so obvious even the most dimwitted morons would see straight through it. Speaking of which…

“You gonna lie there all day?” Kel asks, his annoying face looming over her.

“You gonna keep hovering over me?” she retorts, raising up off the grass and taking a sitting position.

“Hey, you asked to train,” he notes, flashing a toothy grin. “Not my fault you can’t keep up!”

“Not all of us are born athletes, prick,” she grumbles, reluctantly standing up. “You never heard of taking a break?”

“We’ve only been going for ten minutes!” Kel whines. “That’s not even a full game!”

“And you dunked on me in the first two!” Aubrey hisses in response. “I thought you trained with Basil! How the hell does he keep up with you?!”

It was her roommate’s suggestion to go train with him. To hang out with the only person who doesn’t act like a complete mess this time of the year. And with her short-lived softball career coming to an end a while ago now, it made perfect sense to find a new sport to get into. Even if basketball isn’t really her calling, it’s still good exercise.

“Oh, that’s simple,” Kel smirks. “I just go easy on him.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Aubrey states, cracking her knuckles.

“Gotta catch me first!”

Another ten minutes of running leaves Aubrey even more tired than she was before. Kel, of course, remains as energetic as a toddler who just downed a crate’s worth of Orange Joe. Seriously, she doesn’t know if a childhood spent drinking that sludge permanently altered the boy’s body chemistry, or if he just has freaky good genetics, but that man has ungodly stamina.

Used to be they could terrorise each other for hours as kids—she literally chased him around the entire town once! Now she can barely keep pace with him. Which, admittedly, is part of the reason why she wanted to train with him—but she didn’t expect him to be that much better than her!

“How the hell are you and Hero related?” she asks between pants.

Even ignoring the noticeable cosmetic differences, the two brothers couldn’t be more different if they actively tried. Kel was a sports freak; Hero would be as winded as she is now after a brisk walk.

“I get that a lot,” Kel mumbles in response, an underlying venom in his voice.

Clearly, she just struck a nerve.

“Hey, I didn’t me—"

“It’s cool,” he quickly interjects. “He has the brains, but I’m stronger, faster, and—” he flashes a cocky grin as he lingers on the last point. “Taller!” he declares with all the bravado it deserves.

“Hmm, pretty sure he’s still got a few inches on you,” she teases, now wearing a smug smile of her own. “Wouldn’t be calling it a win just yet.”

“Well, we’ll see when Hero gets back,” he replies, a competitive look on his face. “Now,” he continues, spinning his basketball on one finger. “Wanna go again?”

Aubrey grins in response.

“You’re on!”

“He sounds… competitive,” Kel chuckles.

“You don’t have the height contest?” Rey asks, a surprised inflection to her voice.

“Oh, we do,” Kel clarifies fondly. “The other stuff… not so much,” he adds with a wince.

“Really? Don’t you ever get like… jealous?” she asks.

It’d be hard not to. Especially sleeping in a room like that, reminders of your brother’s achievements looming over you whilst you sleep on a cluttered bed. It's an inferiority complex just waiting to happen!

“No—yes—maybe? Urgh! I don’t know,” Kel groans, tripping over his tongue as he tries to respond. “I just try not to think about it. I’m glad to have my brother back—I don’t want to push him away again by making everything a contest.”

“Nothing wrong about taking pride in your strengths,” she states. “Just don’t be a prick about it.”

“It feels so strange hearing you say that,” Kel states.

“Trust me, it feels strange saying it,” she agrees with a chuckle.

It occurs to her how truly strange this must be for him. They’ve been mortal enemies in this world for who knows how long. Now he’s hearing a pep talk from her. Funny how that happens.

Although, now that she thinks about it, Aubrey didn’t really say what happened between the two of them here. From what Rey can tell, they just grew apart and then grew resentful towards one another. Although Kel did mention her counterpart saying something to him, ‘making it clear they weren’t friends’, if she recalls correctly. Since they’re already having a little heart-to-heart, she supposes she might as well ask about that now.

“…That reminds me, what happened between us here anyw—"

Her query is interrupted by a loud gunshot.

In a flash, her pupils are locked back onto the TV screen, focusing just in time to see another cowboy fall at the hands of the film’s protagonist. In a parallel to the movie’s first showdown, the mysterious man holsters his gun, gives a respectful nod to his trusted companion, and then walks off down a dusty road, into a golden sunset. Shortly after, the credits began to roll, a generic western track blaring through the CRT’s crackly speakers.

The film is over, and Rey can barely remember a single line. Guess that’s what happens when you talk through the entire thing.

“It’s done already?” Kel whines, glancing over at the grandfather clock. “Damn,” he hisses, before glancing over at her with a glum look. “Sorry, dude, think you two have to go.”

Right. Time to face the music then.

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” she sighs. “Cmon, Sun—Jesus!” she yelps, having turned to face her friends waiting gaze.

He seemed so engrossed in the film that she fully expected him to be watching the entirety of the credits. But evidently, the second the film ended, Sunny finally returned to reality. She hears Kel let out a bemused snort, and promptly decks him in the shoulder before letting out a tired groan.

Seems like today’s events have finally caught up to her. A long, dreamless sleep is calling her, and she doesn’t want to let that go to voicemail… even if she doesn't like where she has to take it.

‘Damn, I really like analogies today.’

A couple of painful stretches later, and she’s just about ready to get going. Well, as ready as she’s ever going to be. How her mother spent—spends so much time on that sofa is beyond Rey. After sitting there for a measly hour and a half, she feels like a crippled old lady. Actually… maybe that’s exactly how she did it, maybe couches are like glue traps for humans… or maybe Rey’s train of thought is just getting completely derailed by sleep deprivation.

If the latter is true, then there’s only one solution to that problem.

Kel sees them to the door. No one says a word as they walk down the hall. It’s not till they’re already on the front lawn that the tan teen finally speaks up.

“I’ll uh, see you guys tomorrow,” he says, giving them a fond yet tired beam. He’s being sincere, but she can tell he’ll be glad for some sleep. She will be too. “Goodnight, you two!”

“Night, Kel,” she replies, mirroring his expression and cadence almost perfectly. “See you tomorrow.”

Sunny responds by giving him a small wave goodbye.

After that, the door slowly closes over as Kel calls it a night, leaving herself and her not-boyfriend alone in the dark. Neither could say what time it is, although one wouldn’t say even if he knew.

It’s clearly late, but not ridiculously late, as it’s certainly not midnight yet. The summer sun’s a stubborn beast—its rays linger until ten, then it’s risen again by three.

That’s how she knows it’s not too late, but certainly not early either. Faraway is dark. Like nine o’clock in winter dark. No trace of sunlight lingers amongst the clouds, the only source of light is the faint glow of faulty streetlights, and the surrounding woods are so dark that she struggles to make out where one tree starts and another one ends.

Rey would consider herself a brave person, certainly not the type to jump at shadows, but even she knows this is not the time of night to be walking home alone. Faraway is a quiet and fairly safe town, but she’s not the type to tempt fate. Especially since even her ultimate destination isn’t that much safer.

‘Like you have a choice.’

How tragically true that is. She really doesn’t. But… she can delay it again, even if for just a little longer.

“Hey, Sun?” she says, that old pet name slipping off her tongue. ‘Force of habit,’ she laments, the thought instantly souring her mood. “Want me to walk you back to your place?”

It’s not even a minute walk. His place is the house next door, even as she offers her company she can see it looming behind him. This is more for herself than for him. Because she doesn’t want to go ‘home’ yet, because she doesn’t want to be alone right now, and because she hopes he doesn't want to either.

He pauses, his posture stiffening; if it wasn’t so dark she might be able to make out the faint blush on his cheeks. The two stand there on the pavement for what feels like eternity, a strange sense of déjà vu striking the pinkette. In another world they’d done this before. Rey had stood on this very road at a similar time of night, having finally partaken in one of Kel and Sunny’s infamous late-night trips to the plaza.

That night, she’d turned to go home, only for the raven-haired boy to take her hand in his own. Glancing at his feet he nervously asked her to stay, and stay she did. They snuck back in through his window, and she slept on his couch, only to wake up the next morning to two rather confused parents and a very smug Mari. That was only a few months after the accident. It was the most normal things had felt in quite some time.

Sadly, it’s doubtful tonight will be a repeat of that.

Eventually, Sunny nods his head and takes the lead. The two walk side by side down the street. It doesn’t take them very long at all to arrive at his front porch, although they both linger there for a second too long. For the briefest of moments, she almost expects him to say something. But instead he lets out a soft sigh and then gives her what she can only describe as the ‘most reluctant wave goodbye’ she’s ever seen.

“See you tomorrow, Sunny,” she sighs in turn.

He hesitates again, his hand stopping just short of the doorknob. He turns his head to his side, his eye the one he shouldn’t have locked with hers. Her breathing falters as he slowly opens his mouth, only for whatever words he had in mind to die on his tongue, as his jaw slams shut once again. With an unreadable expression, he turns away again and silently enters his home, the door slamming shut behind him.

‘…Guess it’s time then.’

Words cannot stress how much she wishes to avoid going ‘home’. But what other choice does she have now?

Letting out a hearty sigh, she takes a seat on the Suzuki’s doorstep. Staring aimlessly into the woods opposite the house, she suddenly notices something hanging from the power line, just barely visible in the night sky.

A pair of shoes.

Now, that could have a variety of meanings, but she’s pretty sure she knows which one it is…

Rey quickly elects to stare at the ground instead, allowing herself to get lost in her thoughts.

Time passes her by, as does the occasional cat or two. Every so often one will stop and stare at her, their bright yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, but she pays them no mind. Truthfully, she doesn't pay much to anything going on around her. She doesn’t even know how long she’s been sitting here now—only that she’s in no hurry to leave. The mind is a dangerous place to wander; memories become mazes, and it’s easy to get lost when—

Her intentional dissociation is rudely interrupted by a sudden pain in the back of her skull, as the front door suddenly swings open.

“Ah!” she hisses, quickly backing away from the door that just bashed her head. “What the hell!”

Rising from the doorstep and practically flinging her entire body around, she faces a rather abashed Sunny. He doesn’t meet her gaze, but instead gestures inside, a silent offer to stay the night.

“You’re… inviting me in?”

Sunny nods again. Looks like tonight will be a repeat after all.

Like its seemingly sole resident, the Suzuki household is a husk of it’s former self.

It stands in strong contrast to the lively interior of its neighbouring property, lacking all of the soul and comfort the Rodriguez’s had poured into their home. No, this place has been picked clean, like a corpse left out in the sun. Almost everything that made this house identifiable is missing. Photos, decorations, even the couch she slept on all those years ago, all of it is gone. Her breath hitched the second she saw an empty wall where the family portrait used to be.

Rey knew Sunny was due to be moving out soon in this world, but only now is she truly processing that fact.

Although if it wasn’t for her friend practically dragging her inside, she would have assumed this place had been empty for months. ‘Barren’ doesn’t do it justice; this place truly is a shell of a family home, ready to be filled with furniture and decorations, to replace it’s sole resident, even though he’s still living here.

Sunny seemed pretty eager to go upstairs, his weak grasp on her sleeve tugging her in that general direction, his empty eyes nervously glancing at shadows. Rey, however, had a lot of questions, and this house holds the answers.

Wandering around the dark halls, with Sunny reluctantly following in tow, the pinkette’s concerns only grew more and more with each room they visited. It started with the lights, or the lack thereof. When she tried to flick the light switch, nothing happened, and it soon became clear that the house had no power at all. Whilst that was incredibly concerning in of itself, the kitchen was even more alarming. The fridge was completely empty, and even if it had any food in it, then it would have almost certainly gone off by now. The interior of it was as warm as a cupboard. Clearly dead. Likely for some time.

“…What have you been eating?” Rey asked, her face twisted in horror.

Sunny’s silence spoke volumes.

She made a mental note to take the boy to Gino’s tomorrow.

The living room wasn’t as distressing, but it was still upsetting and was hardly fit to be described as ‘living’. The only thing left in there was the infamous carpet Kel had stained all those years ago. That was almost amusing, but the generally dour atmosphere of the place made it difficult to muster even the slightest of smirks. It was becoming very apparent that there wasn’t much to do here, there was nowhere to sit or lounge, nothing to eat, and there wasn’t even any power.

By the time they wandered back into the main hallway, Rey couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. Which brings them to where they are now.

“Sunny,” she mumbles. “Where the hell are your parents?”

He seemed to freeze for a second, before eventually replying with a shrug—a freaking shrug!

“You don’t know?” she asks, struggling to hide the horror in her tone. Ignoring the sudden urge to murder a married couple, she breathes deep and shifts gears. “Did… did they not tell you?”

Sunny makes a ‘so-so’ gesture with his hand. Likely spotting her confusion, he mouths ‘mom’ then just points off in a random direction. Her brow furrows, and his mirror hers. Now looking slightly grumpy, he mimes typing before repeating the same gesture again.

“She’s… at work?” Rey guesses. ‘This late?' she thinks to herself, not quite buying that answer.

The raven-haired boy frowns a little, but nods his head all the same, clearly conveying the message of ‘close enough'. Whilst the exact location of his mother is a mystery, it at least seems like she’s still on the scene, even if it’s very much in the same way her own mother technically was—is.

“…What about your dad?” she asks, instantly regretting her question as Sunny's skin somehow turns even paler. “N-Nevermind,” she quickly tags on. “…Is your mom going to be home tonight?”

He shakes his head, this time without any confusion or hesitation. Rey gets the impression his parent’s absence is the one thing he is certain of. It’s a bitter thought, especially given her own relationship with the Suzuki’s.

‘All those years looking down at me, of being so ‘protective’ and the cold bastard turns out to be no better than my old man,’ she thinks to herself, fists instinctively clenching in anger.

One thing is for sure, if she ever gets home, she’s not going to worry about the opinion of Mr Suzuki ever again—hell! She’ll neck his son right in front of him! One-up Mari’s New Year stunt and stick it to that deadbeat! Show him that you don’t get to control your kid’s life when you won’t even be a part of it! …When you ditch your only child in a trash heap, leaving them alone with someone you know can’t take care of them… When… when you don’t even say goodbye, just leave one morning and… and never come back.

She feels another tug on her sleeve and quickly returns to the present, where a very concerned Sunny is looking up at her. It’s strange… being the tall one for once.

“I’m good,” she lies, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m just… I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you—you shouldn’t be living like this… no one should.” Sniffling a little, she quickly regains her composure. “Anyway, if your mom’s not around, figure I can borrow her bed? I don’t see a couch to crash on and… I’m guessing Mari’s is gone?”

His expression is all the answer she needs.

“Yeah, figured,” she sighs. “So, do you mind?”

Sunny nods again, although he seems almost… disappointed? Which is weird because where the hell else could she sle—oh! Oh~

“Did you have something else in mind, Sun?” she asks teasingly.

The reaction she gets is exactly what she wants. That static, stone-cold expression he’s worn all day is crumbling away to reveal a flustered mess. She feels her heart skip a beat at the sight and suddenly understands why Mari enjoys tormenting Hero so much.

He frantically shakes his head in response, and she decides to drop it, taking mercy on the boy.

“I’m just messing with you,” she laughs. “Come on, let’s go upst—” she cuts herself off as a nearby door catches her attention. The one room they haven’t explored yet.

Giving her friend an inquisitive look, she’s met by a blank stare. Rolling her eyes, she takes the initiative, walks over and opens the door. Had she been paying attention, she might have noticed Sunny’s eyes widen in shock as she did so.

The room is almost like a jumpscare in contrast to the rest of the house, it’s the one place that hasn’t really changed between worlds, although it might actually be cleaner here. Moonlight pours in through the large window at it’s centre, illuminating the white fluttery curtains that adorn it, and drawing special attention to the main centrepiece. Mari’s piano.

Rey had fully expected this thing to be gone too, but she supposes it was the one thing they just couldn’t bring themselves to part with.

‘Ironic,’ she thinks bitterly.

Her Mari hates this thing.

Strolling over to it, she fondly runs her hands over the keys, her melancholy expression reflected faintly in the polished black finish. She stares at the dark surface for a while, the black mirror so clean she can almost make out the individual hair follicles in her head, her natural brown colour just starting to reveal itself as the pink grows outwards. There’s an engraving in the centre of the instrument. It’s the name of the brand; if she recalls correctly, it was a fairly expensive make. The church has the same one, but that took months of crowdfunding to purchase. Goes to show just how well off the Suzuki's used to be; you’d never guess it now, looking around this soulless, empty tomb they call a house.

“You uh, come in here often?" she asks Sunny, who has been lingering in the doorway this entire time.

He slowly shakes his head in response, looking more confused than she’s ever seen him before. Like he’s just stepped into a room that shouldn’t exist.

“Huh,” she mumbles, feeling rather confused herself.

He clearly hasn’t been in here in quite some time, and yet… it’s so much cleaner than the rest of the house, being the one room that isn’t caked in dust. Maybe Mrs Suzuki keeps it clean? …Whenever she’s here, that is.

“Alright then,” Rey sighs, feeling way too tired to worry about that particular mystery any longer. “Let’s get going.”

They go to leave the room, but Sunny lingers in the doorway. He seems to be staring at the piano, but his gaze is locked onto something specific. Following his eyes reveals that he’s looking directly at the name etched into the heart of the instrument:

‘OMORI.’

To the surprise of no one, she does end up crashing in his room. She had fully intended to sleep in his mother’s bed, but then, seeing his room, how hollow and lonely it is compared to the one she knows, she instead settled on grabbing Mrs Suzuki’s bedding and dragging it in here. Which she's sure should be fine. Sunny certainly didn’t seem to object as she set up a little makeshift bed a comfortable distance from his own.

She grabbed a few spare blankets from the storage closet downstairs to make up for the lack of a mattress—kind of a hassle, but definitely worth it. And whilst down there, she also spotted Sunny’s old toybox in the corner, which explains where all his plushies went. Feeling nostalgic, she had attempted to open it, but to no avail. For whatever reason, the old chest was locked tight, which was a bit of a bummer—but not something to lose sleep over.

It's just an old toy box after all.

Feeling just about ready to pass out, she looks over at her friend, who is sat on his own bed, looking just about as tired as she is. Smiling, she strolls over and wraps the boy in a firm hug.

“Thanks for having me over, Sun,” she mumbles into his shirt. “I really appreciate it.”

He feels so small in her arms, bony too. It’s almost like hugging one of those display skeletons from science class. But despite his alarming physique, he still feels warm to the touch, and she can’t help but lean into the hug more. He stiffens in her grasp, but eventually reciprocates, wrapping his skinny arms around her torso and resting his head in the crook of her neck. For the first time today, things feel truly normal again.

They eventually part, both equally flustered.

“Sorry,” she apologises sheepishly. “You looked like you needed that.”

That hug was self-indulgent, sure, but she’s not lying to him. He really did look like he needed that. A part of her briefly wonders how long it’s been since anyone’s touched him like that.

He stares at his hands, a disappointed look on his face. Rey gets the feeling he didn’t want that to end. Truthfully, neither did she. The thought of sharing a bed with him had crossed her mind, but she shut that thought down fast. He’s not hers. Not here anyway. Cuddling would be nice. And the idea of making her boyfriend jealous of himself? Hilarious. But is that cheating? She’s still not sure—and she’s not about to find out.

Rekindling old embers is fine, but tending the fire? That’s Aubrey’s job.

Her other self totally owes her for this. Even if she’ll never admit it. The thought brings a smile to Rey’s face.

“So, uh… do you want me to turn around, or?” she asks, giving Sunny an expectant look, an expression that’s met by one of confusion. “Y’know, so you can get changed or something?”

He continues to give her a weird look, before eventually shaking his head and retreating under the sheets, still wearing all his clothes—shoes included. Now, she had slept in this same outfit last night, but that was due to an almost unnatural exhaustion, and whilst she was ultimately grateful for it (waking up in this world in only her underwear would have been awkward), she certainly doesn’t intend to repeat it.

“Uhhh, okay then. Well, can you, like, look away for a second?” she asks.

Sunny blushes but complies, turning to face the wall opposite her. Quickly discarding her hoodie, jeans and shoes, she retreats into her makeshift bed, amazed by how shockingly comfortable it is.

“I’m done,” she yawns, resting her head on her pillow. “Think I’m just gonna pass out now,” she adds with a tired chuckle. “Hoooaaah… night Sun,” she mumbles mid-yawn.

Her eyelids already feel heavy, sleep beckons her, and she easily succumbs to its call. Darkness consumes her world as she slowly loses consciousness, today’s worries feeling like little more than a distant memory. Maybe it’s the first sign of an incoming dream or another audible hallucination like back at church, but just as Rey is about to drift off, she swears she hears a muffled voice calling out to her. Hoarse and tired, barely more than a whisper, it would be so easy to miss—but she hears it all the same.

“Oyasumi,” it says.

Rey smiles, turns her head to the side, and then finally falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Bile burns Henry’s throat.

It’s a familiar sensation, even if it’s been a while since it last happened. He still recalls the taste of iron in the back of his throat as he spattered the grass with vomit. That swaying shadow stretched out before him, the stench of death permeating the air.

He certainly hasn’t missed this, that’s for sure.

A searing pain reverberates around his skull; it feels like his head is in a vice. He definitely overdid it at that party—and on his first night too! How embarrassing…

‘Jesus, I’m a mess.’

Staring at the disgusting mass of regurgitated food swirling in his toilet bowl, Henry feels his stomach grumble in protest. He retches again, but thankfully, he doesn't have anything other than more bile (and the pitiful amount of tap water he just downed) left to vomit up. Wiping his mouth dry on his bare arm, he reaches a shaky hand up to the toilet lever and pulls it down. Rather embarrassingly, he fails to muster even enough strength to properly flush it on the first go. But after a couple more tries, he eventually succeeds, sending the foul spew spiralling away into a watery abyss.

This is far from his lowest moment, but by God, if it doesn't feel like it right now.

It’s currently welcome week at Nearby University, which means only one thing: seven days straight of nonstop partying, underage drinking, and just generally terrible decision-making. Henry had managed to get invited to a flat party almost instantly, and—at the insistence of his new roommate—accepted it with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

It was all downhill from there.

He lost track of his roommate almost immediately, and, being alone in a crowded apartment, decided to take the edge off. ‘Loosen up, have some fun,’ he told himself. Thing is, he might have taken a bit too much off the edge. It was his first time properly drinking, and yet he's pretty sure he managed to outdo just about everyone else at that party.

Small talk already came easily to him by nature, but after the amount he drank, he could’ve talked sports with the President and never sweat a drop.

Now, there were plenty of girls at that party—most his age, some a bit older—and a fair few even looked his way. But he wasn’t there for that kind of thing. No, he was there to socialise, to get to know some of the people he’d be seeing around campus for the next few years.

But then he saw her.

At first, he thought he was seeing things—it wouldn't have been the first time, sadly—but after blinking WAY too many times, she didn't fade away, instead, her face lingered in the crowd, always in Henry’s peripheral. Like a star in the spotlight or a diamond in the rough.

Having written off mental illness as an explanation, Henry then figured that he had just drunk way too much (and to be fair, he most definitely had). Faces do tend to blur when you can barely see straight.

So, he had asked some guy he’d been talking to—As… something. He can’t quite remember his name right now.

Seemed like a nice guy though.

Anyway, he asked him if he was seeing things, before rather clumsily gesturing over to the woman in question. His drunk companion simply cackled in response, slapped him on the back, then abruptly ended their talk by shoving him directly into her line of sight.

They locked eyes for a long time.

Henry felt his heart skip a beat.

She had long, flowing, raven-black hair, dyed purple(—purple!) at the tips. She wore a silver crescent necklace and an almost skin-tight white collared shirt, complemented by a pair of dark, ripped black jeans. And her face…

She looked almost exactly like—

A loud knocking sound snaps Henry out of his recollection. Someone's waiting for the bathroom. Probably his roommate.

“Hey? You okay in there?” a distinctly feminine—distinctly NOT his roommate's—voice asks.

‘Oh shit.’

How could he forget she was here?! He’s only been in this bathroom for a few minutes!

Memories start rushing back, he recalls how they’d gotten talking almost instantly, the alcohol admittedly doing most of the work for them. Neither of them were normally comfortable with this kind of thing; they'd established that damn near instantly, but a few pints in and suddenly everything seemed like a good idea.

He blinked, and they were in a cab together.

He blinked again, and she was in his room.

He didn’t even get to blink a third time before her tongue was in his mouth.

To call it an escalation would be an understatement—he didn’t even know her name! Yet there he was, holding onto her like she was a life raft in a vast ocean. He could feel her chest against his own, smell her lavender perfume invading his nose as her lips collided against his. It was too much. Even in his drunken haze, it was overwhelming.

It was only when they had finally parted, leaving a shiny string of saliva staining his jaw, that he truly saw her for the first time.

It was like an instant cold shower.

Not because she wasn’t pretty—Christ no! She was like a spring in the Sahara!

No, it’s because she wasn’t who he’d been imagining.

At a glance, she resembled Mari to an almost uncanny degree; a dark-haired Asian American with a smile so warm it could melt the coldest of glaciers. But up close, they were distinctly different people. Her nose was a touch larger, her chin rounder, her cheeks fuller, and her eyes were a startlingly bright emerald green—nothing like the soot-coloured pebbles that were Mari’s. And, perhaps most telling of all, her hair fell plainly over her forehead, missing the signature ‘Suzuki bangs’ that had framed Mari’s face right up until the day they laid her to rest.

This woman was absolutely stunning. Just not who he’d wanted to share this moment with.

With a hungry look in those sparkling eyes, she had resumed their kiss, but as their tongues wrestled, his own fell slack. A deep pit opened in Henry’s stomach as an awful realisation struck him.

He and Mari had never gone this far.

They were kids. They never had the chance.

She’s gone. She’s been gone for a while now.

They would never have the chance to—

His make-out session had come to an abrupt end in that moment. As everything caught up with Henry all at once. Not only that familiar yet dreadful feeling of grief, but also the guilt and shame of getting this intimate with someone whilst imagining someone else in their stead. For a second, he felt bad for cutting things short, but then it struck him that the two of them were likely far too drunk to be in this situation anyway.

Of course, he didn’t have the luxury of saying that, of letting her down gently and explaining sensibly how foolish they were being, how neither of them were in their right minds to be doing the things they were. No, it was at that exact moment, with her staring him in the eyes like a kicked puppy and him gawking back like an absolute moron, that the night’s worth of excessive drinking finally decided to catch up with him.

What followed next was nothing short of total humiliation. The only saving grace was that he had enough time to retreat to the bathroom before he spilt his guts all over her chest.

If that had happened, he might have just ended it all on the spot.

“Hello?!” the voice calls out again, noticeably more concerned. “Are you alright? You haven’t said any—”

“I’m fi—” Henry coughs, trying to clear his throat before continuing. “I’m fine,” he lies, his voice hoarse and gravelly, almost akin to the sound of chalk scraping against a board. “Just… just give me a second,” he slurs, cringing at his painfully noticeable voice crack.

“…Okay,” she mumbles in response.

Rising on unsteady feet, he looks at himself in the bathroom mirror, doing a quick damage assessment—one that proves to be remarkably brief, lasting only a few short seconds. As Henry does not like what he sees. Even from the quick glimpse he took, he could tell that he was as pale as a corpse, with a dazed expression and heavy eye bags.

Oh, and he’s shirtless too. He doesn’t even remember how that happened, but he definitely doesn’t care for it.

He wears long sleeves for a reason.

Glancing at his wrists, he instinctively winces, recalling the pain so vividly that it feels like those old scars were just carved this very second. Dozens of small scratches line both of his wrists—countless pale lines contrasting sharply against his olive skin. It’s like a morbid tally mark—an eternal reminder of his mistakes.

‘…God, I hope she didn’t see them.’

He’s not proud of the man he was when he carved those lines, the man who’d supposedly recovered from his year-long isolation, who faced the world with a renewed vigour, then lied between his teeth as he told his family he was fine, and held up the bathroom for hours at a time, desperately dabbing up his blood with flimsy loo roll.

Looking at Kel was what hurt the most in those days.

His brother, who dragged him out of his haze of grief, and received little to no thanks for it. His brother, who wholeheartedly believed he was getting better…

Well, that part isn’t necessarily a lie; Henry is getting better. It’s just a long climb up from rock bottom. Even longer when you systematically replace each rung in your recovery ladder as you go, trading one terrible coping mechanism for the next, instead of truly moving forward.

Deciding to finally face the music, Henry quickly washes his hands and face, swills some water, and then reluctantly opens the bathroom door, stepping out into his room. It’s still pretty bare right now, a serious contrast to his own room back home. Mainly because both sides are surprisingly neat.

Although, how organised he and his roommate will be going forward remains to be seen.

‘Where is he anyway? …Probably off with some guy.’

He had made his intentions clear to Henry almost immediately upon entering the flat. Which was somewhat annoying, as had Henry known his sole companion was just looking to bag some random dude, he might’ve waited to make a few more friends first before showing up to some stranger’s party.

Due to tonight’s shenanigans, Henry’s side of the room is notably messier right now. His bed is unmade, his shoes have been haphazardly discarded around it, and his shirt is draped over his lamp.

‘Ah, so that’s where that went.’

Most notably, though, is the woman on his bed, wearing nought but her jeans and bra. Henry's eyes linger a second too long before basic decency kicks back in and he averts his gaze, allowing the woman to finish slipping back into her white shirt.

“Oh!” she startles, having finished popping her head through the shirt’s collar. “Didn’t see you there.”

"Look, I'm really sor—” he immediately goes to apologise.

“Stop,” she interjects with a sigh. “It’s fine. You’re way too drunk anyway and I—I'm not much better," she laughs, causing Henry's heart to flutter. Her expression hardens as she continues though, creating a sudden chill in the air. “Look, I don’t normally do hook-up stuff, it’s not my thing,” she explains. “But I do know you should probably stop when you’re called the wrong name.”

Henry feels a chill go down his spine.

His frozen vista is reflected in the green of her irises. He looks as pathetic as he feels.

“I should’ve stopped the first time,” she spits, almost cursing herself as much as him. “But you seemed really nice! And like, super hot!” she continues, causing Henry just to blush again. “So, I tricked myself— ‘he's just saying it wrong, that's all! He must've misheard me! Those two names are close enough.’ But it’s clear you're with someone else, so whoever 'Mari' is, you need to call her and—"

With one word, she makes his blood run cold.

Henry’s stomach twists in protest at the sound of her name. This place was supposed to be a fresh start, and he’s already ruined it. 

“I… I c-can’t,” he whimpers, a storm of emotions swirling in his mind.

The woman gets visibly frustrated at his response. Almost spitting at him during her first attempt at a response.

“Don’t be a coward!” she hisses, a pained look on her face. “You don’t get to do that! To hurt someone like that!” Henry briefly wonders if she’s been the victim of such an offence in the past. “I won’t be a part of it! You need to tell her no—"

“I can’t,” he interjects, his response short, solemn and true.

“Why not?” she demands.

“Because she’s dead.”

Quiet fills the still air. The woman's eyes widen, horror blooming across her face. An entire conversation is shared in that stiff silence; questions, answers, regrets—all expressed and answered through a series of inquisitive looks and sombre glances. Eventually, her gaze shifts to his wrists, and he instinctively covers them, flinching at her prolonged staring.

A second passes. She sighs, then wordlessly lifts the shirt she’d just pulled back on, revealing a faint, pale scar etched across her belly. Even at a glance, he can tell it was once a deep wound.

Henry meets her eyes, and no words are needed.

It seems they finally understand each other.

For a long time afterwards, the silence lingers. She throws him his shirt, and he graciously accepts it. She then clumsily puts her shoes back on and takes a hearty swig from a nearby bottle of water. Said bottle is then also thrown to him, and he downs the rest of it with all the eagerness of a man turned thin from thirst.

"My name's Mary, by the way,” she suddenly states.

‘…Of bloody course it is.’

Some days it truly does feel like the universe is laughing at him.

“Henry,” he replies, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s a nice name.”

He doesn’t like how that comment makes him feel.

“…I’ll call you a cab,” he mumbles, scouring his trouser pockets for his phone, silently cursing himself for wearing cargo trousers to a flat party.

“My hero~” she chuckles, giving him a genuine smile despite her teasing tone.

Her words, combined with her mannerisms, are like a punch to the gut. If he hadn't just puked up everything in his stomach, he might've been sick on the spot.

“Please, don’t,” he begs. “Please don’t call me that.”

“…Okay,” she complies, with equal parts understanding and disappointment.

Neither of them said another word after that. Or if they did, Henry certainly can’t seem to remember. The rest of the night was a blur. She got a cab home. He passed out. The next morning, he awoke to the distinct noise of splashing water and pained retching.

It was his roommate’s turn to wreck the toilet. How that man managed to end up more hungover than Henry is truly nothing short of a mystery.

Although a vomiting roomie wasn’t the only thing Henry woke up to. Opening his phone, he was greeted by a single text from a new contact.

M4RY: Hey

It was the simplest of messages, yet it was also so much more than that. It was an open invitation to call her, to try again, to salvage that little bit of chemistry they had last night. They had an understanding, a connection; from what he recalls, they were actually quite alike. He doesn’t have to be alone anymore. He can be with someone who understands…

He just has to text her back.

He never does.

He never sees again.

It’s hardly shocking. There are approximately five thousand, two hundred and fifty students at Nearby University. You could meet a hundred faces in a single night and never see any of them again. Odds are you’d forget them all by the next morning.

…Yet he never forgets her face.

Every night, Hero has the same dream.

It's been that way for almost four years now, and nearly two years at Nearby University haven't changed a thing. Sad as it sounds, it’s one of the only constants he has left in his life.

So, when he finds himself inexplicably back in Faraway—its trees unseasonably orange—he doesn’t panic or worry, because there’s no reason to. He’s more than learnt that lesson by now. Instead, he just leisurely strolls down the town’s familiar roads, already resigned to his fate.

Now, saying his dreams are always the same isn’t entirely true. The setting shifts nightly, but the people, the ending… well, those never change. He’s been to fantasy kingdoms, cyberpunk nightmares, sitcom hangouts, and over-the-top weddings (that last scenario always stung the most).

But no matter the setting…

His friends are always there.

Mari is always there.

And so is that accursed tree.

The first time it happened, he woke up screaming—almost scared the life out of his poor brother and all but guaranteed neither of them would be getting any rest that night. But by the fifth time? Well, let’s just say he learnt how to stifle his sobs pretty quickly. He was always a fast learner.

So, by the fiftieth time, it was just basic routine. A predictable formula in an unpredictable world.

He’d always “wake” in some strange yet oddly familiar place, spend time with some or all of his old friends, usually goofing around on some silly adventure or aimless hangout, until Mari would pull him aside to talk in private. Sometimes it would be under a romantic context: like a wedding vow or a Valentine's confession. Other times it would be more realistic, more in line with the private talks they used to have—concerns about their family, friends and future.

Whatever the context, Mari would eventually approach him, cup his face, and pull him into a hug. With her chin resting on his shoulder and her soft hair tickling his cheek, she’d lean in close and whisper in a kind, loving voice:

“It’s your fault.”

Every time, without fail, he’d flinch like he’d just been slapped.

And then when he opened his eyes again, the tree would be there, looming over him.

That horrible tree and its sick fruit, swaying in the breeze, staring down at him—judging him with those wide, bloodshot eyes. All while the creaking of rope echoed through the wind.

That’s why, after a while, he found the best dreams were ironically the ones more upfront with their horror. At least when he found himself floating in an ocean turned red by the blood of his friend's bodies, he knew it wasn't going to get any better going forward.

It’s also why this one is getting on his nerves. He’s played this game before, he knows exactly where it’s going, and so, honestly, he wishes it would just hurry up and get to the point already. Like, does his subconscious really need to make him walk all the way home first, just to hit him with the same old scare?

It's not like he's numb to it or anything, far from it, in fact, seeing Mari like that… it will never not hurt. It may be formulaic, but every time feels like finding her all over again. There’s always the tremor in his hands, the bile rising in his throat, his knees giving out, eyes refusing to avert their gaze… and then finally, the broken sob that tears its way from his chest.

It's always the same.

Always painful.

Every time.

Without fail.

…

That being said, it really does get a bit tiring. Like—he gets it, okay?!

It’s his fault! He missed the signs! He failed her…

But do his dreams really need to keep reminding him of that?!

Three years ago, it was salt on the wound. Now? It’s just beating a dead horse!

Blessedly, his annoyance distracts him from his long trek home. Maybe once upon a time, he would have felt nostalgic strolling through Faraway on a nice, sunny Autumn day. But he hasn't had fond feelings for Fall in quite some time, and this stroll certainly isn't changing his mind on the matter.

Dead leaves are smushed under his trainers as he trudges down the sidewalk. Not even providing that pleasant crisp ‘crunch’ noise they usually make. These leaves are not freshly fallen; they have already been weathered by time and the elements, now little more than a brow stain on the pavement. If Hero had to guess, this dream is likely taking place just before winter sets in.

Were any of this real, he might take the time to appreciate the clear sky—God only knows how long it'll be until a day this nice rolls around again.

But it’s not real. None of this is. Not the sun in the sky, not the leafy mush beneath his feet, nor the familiar residences that blur together as he passes them by, and certainly not the freshly raked front lawn he eventually finds himself standing on.

The Suzuki residence looms over him.

What was once a fond sight, evoking memories of peaceful winter nights and pleasant summer days, has soured over the years, as the house devolved into a husk of itself. In the present, no more warm light spills from its windows, no laughter drifts out into the street—its shadow seems longer, heavier even, swallowing all those tender memories whole until all that remains is the weight in his chest.

Of course, that’s in the present. This dream lives in the past, where even the dull, beige tiles of this humble home seem warmer.

The sight still brings him no comfort, though, and he finds himself mentally screaming not to take another step forward. Unfortunately, his body does so anyway, strolling up to the front door without a care in the world. He tries to turn away or even just close his eyes, yet his body remains unresponsive.

Acting of its own accord, his hand reaches out, forms a loose fist and then knocks on the door. He stands in place, patiently waiting for an answer, with a small, warm smile spread across his cheeks. An expression strongly contrasted by the turbulent sea of emotions he truly feels.

Hero’s dreams have always had a certain level of cognitive dissonance to them, but this one is really taking the cake so far.

His involuntary smile only wavers as the door finally opens up, revealing the last person Hero expected to see in here.

Mr Suzuki is a man he hasn’t given much thought to in quite some time. Last Hero heard he wasn't even around anymore; whether that meant he died or just ditched town, he couldn’t say for sure. Hero only knew of his absence from overhearing whispers between his own parents, and thus never really cared to ask for any more details on the matter.

It does make sense that he would be here, though. This dream seems to be a play on the typical hangouts he used to have when he was a kid, and Mr Suzuki giving him a death stare was more or less a universal constant across all those days.

From what Hero recalls, the man was somehow both incredibly overprotective yet also emotionally distant from his kids. Being strongly opposed to either of them dating, especially Mari, yet never actually sitting down to discuss it with them. Quiet and stoic, much like his son (who he bore a striking resemblance to), Mr Suzuki never struck Hero as the negligent type, more so a man who struggled to connect with those around him. His wife seemingly being the only one to truly get him.

With all that being said, Hero did not care for him very much.

Initially, it was purely because he was an active hindrance to him, a roadblock in any potential relationship he and Mari could have had. But then she died, and his dislike grew into something much more tangible. Hero resented the eldest Suzuki for missing the signs, for disappearing from his family’s lives and…

Well, that’s about it. But those are pretty solid reasons for not liking someone.

God knows it’s why Hero hates himself.

"Ah, m-morning, Mr Suzuki," he greets, his body finally reflecting at least a fraction of the emotion he’s actually feeling.

Rather unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t respond. It’s funny, he was always so similar to Sunny, yet with the youngest Suzuki, Hero always had at least some inclination as to what the boy was thinking. But with his father, well, that was like trying to get a read on a brick wall—pointless and tiring.

The uncomfortable atmosphere is suddenly (and blessedly) broken by a loud yelp echoing from behind the Suzuki patriarch. The man turns to face the noise, but to Hero's surprise, he finds himself rushing past him, all but barging into the house.

“Sunny?!” he calls out, immense worry in his voice.

‘Sunny?’

Again, makes sense. The quiet boy cameos in his dreams all the time. But given the nature of this dream, Hero can’t help but think his tone is a bit too concerned. If he thought Sunny was hurt, obviously, he would've rushed to help; he would have done the same for any of his friends. But to push past the boy's father and essentially trespass? It seems like a… disproportionate reaction.

Almost like he already has some preconceived worry guiding him.

Rushing down the hall and entering the kitchen, Hero soon spots the source of his friend's distress. Sunny stands over a chopping board. On it lies a large green apple—half of it is neatly sliced, whilst the other half is still intact, its flesh stained red with his blood. The boy’s hands are trembling: the left one is a gory mess, with a deep cut on his ring finger bleeding freely. Whilst in his right one, he grips the culprit: a large, sharp kitchen knife. It’s painted red from tip to heel; a single drop of crimson trickles down from the cutting edge and splashes against the wooden board below.

Hero would wince if he could.

Sunny always did prefer his food sliced; it was another strange little quirk of his. Although the responsibility of doing said cutting usually came down to Mari or Hero himself. Largely because trusting a twelve-year-old with a sharp object is exactly how you get situations like this.

At first, Hero assumes the boy's hands are shaking purely out of pain or fear, but then another emotion makes itself known. Anger.

Letting out a cry of frustration, Sunny casts the bloodied blade down to the floor, where it clatters against the tiles, traces of his blood dirtying the otherwise clean surface. With his whole body shivering, Sunny quietly sniffles to himself, seemingly unaware of Hero’s presence.

It's the kind of sight that really tugs on the heartstrings. He'd always been fond of the boy; he was practically a second little brother to him back in the day. And aside from Mari, he's probably the one Hero feels the guiltiest about whenever he cameos in these dreams.

It always felt wrong whenever Hero visited home, knowing that Sunny was right next door and yet no one had seen him in years.

Every visit, he told himself he'd do something. Convinced himself that he’d put on his most reassuring voice, knock on the Suzuki’s door and wait as long as he had to for Sunny to answer. But then the time would come, and he’d always find some way to wriggle out of it. Usually, the house would bring back too many bad memories for him to even look at it, or Kel would sombrely mention how little success he’d had in his own attempts at reaching out, and Hero would end up just writing the whole plan off.

‘Some Hero…’

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Someone he once considered family has been suffering through something he's all too familiar with, and yet he can’t even try to check in on him. It's a display of cowardice that must have Mari rolling in her grave.

Yet he still has the nerves to tell himself that this time will be different, that this summer will be the one where he tries—no, not tries, succeeds. It’s delusional, he knows it is. Still, a part of him believes it—believes that he can be the boy he is in this dream, not the useless adult he is in real life.

Speaking of which, his dream self carefully approaches the boy, kneeling down to Sunny’s level and taking his hand. But as the raven-haired boy turns to look up at him, Hero feels a chill in his bones. One of Sunny’s eyes is wide and watery, a few small tears swelling at its corners. But the other one… the other one is covered by a white medical eyepatch.

Now, dreams are surreal; everyone knows that. But usually, there's a level of symbolism to them. Some of those hidden meanings are more obvious than others, admittedly, but…

‘Why on Earth is Sunny missing an eye?’

Once again, oblivious to his own inner turmoil, his dream self guides Sunny over to the kitchen sink. Turning the tap on and letting the water run cold, he encourages the boy to hold his finger under the stream. He watches as bloody water swirls down the drain; it’s a sight he’s far too familiar with.

“…Hurts,” Sunny whimpers.

"I know," he replies softly. "Just stay there and keep your finger under the water. I'll go get the first aid kit, okay?"

Even after all these years, he knows the location of the kit like the back of his hand. It's only natural, he supposes, when you play parent to a bunch of kids for most of your teenage years, you kinda develop a second sense for this type of thing.

As he goes to retrieve the kit from a nearby cupboard, he notices Mr Suzuki lingering in the doorway. For once, the man is openly expressing himself, and yet his face is still unreadable to Hero. That might sound somewhat like an oxymoron, but there’s actually so much emotion in that one stunned expression that it doubles back around to being completely illegible.

It only lasts a second, though, as he instantly snaps back to his usual stoic expression upon noticing Hero's staring. It might just be his imagination, but for a split second, he swears the man looks almost… proud.

‘Ha, this really is a dream.’

Glancing past him and over to his son, the two Suzukis seem to have a silent conversation—something that was fairly common if Hero remembers correctly—before he quickly nods his head and takes his leave.

Undeterred by whatever that was, he quickly retrieves the kit, makes his way back over to Sunny and carefully bandages the boy's finger up. The entire time, Sunny keeps his one eye locked on the kitchen floor.

“…Can’t do anything,” he mumbles dejectedly.

“That’s not true,” Hero counters.

Sunny shakes his head. “Can’t see anything like this.” His voice carries a solemn conviction. “…Useless," he adds, instinctively raising his uninjured hand to touch his eyepatch.

"Sunny, look at me, please," Hero instructs, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. His friend complies; his singular misty eye now locked with his own. "It's going to take some time, but you'll get used to it," he says. "Until then, you have to be careful, you've just lost your depth perception—you know what that is, right?"

Hero almost laughs at his dream self’s rambling. Of course, Sunny doesn't know what depth perception is; he's twelve, for God's sake!

Sunny shakes his head, and Hero can tell he's about to go on a nerdy tangent. It's almost nostalgic. He might hate this subject now, but he can't deny that he always did have a certain level of interest in medical stuff. He just wishes his parents hadn't caught onto that fact.

“Well, it’s… it’s your ability to tell the distance between two objects,” he explains gauchely. “Your eyes basically take two images—think of it like Basil’s photos, if you have more pictures, you can get a clearer view of whatever you’re looking at.”

It’s an awful oversimplification, but Hero can tell he’s trying to dumb it down for his younger friend.

“But after… well, with one eye it’s harder to see,” he continues. “You’ll get used to it eventually, but in the meanwhile, you really shouldn’t be playing with sharp things.”

“Wasn’t playing,” Sunny pouts. “…Hungry.”

“Then you should have asked your sister for help,” Hero sighs. “Where is she anyway?”

‘That’s exactly what I’m wondering.’

“Busy,” the raven-haired boy responds. “Didn’t want to bother her… please don’t tell.”

"Sorry, Sunny, but I've got to," Hero apologises. "She'd notice anyway, you know that."

Strangely, an unmistakable, yet uncharacteristically bitter expression crosses Sunny's face; the only time Hero ever saw anything close to that look on the boy was back when Kel spoiled the next issue of Spaceboy for him—the two kids didn’t talk for almost an entire week after that.

“She wouldn’t,” Sunny mumbles under his breath.

“Sunny,” Hero scolds.

“…Sorry,” he apologises.

Hero can’t help but feel like he’s missing a lot of context here. Which actually ties neatly into something else he’s noticed.

This doesn’t feel like a dream.

Not only is he completely aware of everything going on, but he’s also indisputably not the one in control here. Sure, his dream counterpart is acting exactly like he would be in this scenario, but Hero has had absolutely zero control over what he’s been saying and doing so far.

Admittedly, not many people can control their dreams, but he normally has at least a tiny bit more influence than this. It’s like the world’s shittiest possession—like he’s not even dreaming, just reliving a memory…

A memory of something that never happened.

Whatever is happening here, he really hopes it comes to an end soon. It’s been a long time since his dreams last surprised him, and so far, he’s not a big fan of it.

 “It’s fine,” Hero sighs. “I understand, I know you must be feeling… conflicted. But your sister—"

“She’s with the piano,” Sunny interjects, abruptly pulling himself out from Hero’s grasp. “I need to tell mom about the mess,” he continues, excusing himself and swiftly exiting the room.

Hero has no idea what to make of that, and clearly neither does his dream self, as he stays stuck in place for a long time. Sighing, he eventually reaches down and grabs the bloody knife before then dropping it in the sink. He seems to deliberate cleaning it himself for a second, before ultimately deciding against it.

As he exits the kitchen, Hero begins to mentally resign himself once more. As strange as this whole experience has been, it's still just another nightmare; it’ll end the same as always. And so, as he gently opens the door to the piano room, he makes a silent prayer—a desperate wish, that this time it won’t hurt as much.

Mari is sat on a piano bench with her back turned to him.

Her long, black hair is illuminated by the sunlight shining through the room’s sole window. She often looks different in his dreams, usually matching his current age, with her hair dyed purple, just like she always wanted it. But here she’s discernibly the age she was when she died.

“That’s new,” he finds himself stating, his dream self having noticed he failed to.

There’s a large but shallow dent in the otherwise pristine, glossy exterior of the Suzuki family’s ‘OMORI’-brand piano. It sits just beneath the wordmark and is about the size of a golf ball. Which is fitting, seeing as it almost looks like it could’ve been made by a golf club.

Although as his eyes drift to a nearby cane, its crook bent slightly off-kilter, the likelier culprit is made axiomatic.

“Oh! Hey, Hero,” Mari startles, almost jumping from her stool. She turns to face him, and he feels his skin crawl. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

She's almost exactly how he remembers her, but with one glaring difference. There's a small but nasty scar running along her right cheek. It's jagged and raised, it's pinkish-red colour strongly contrasting with the rest of her pale beige skin. It still looks sore—definitely a fresh wound, probably less than a couple of weeks old if he had to guess.

“You didn’t?” Hero asks, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah, guess I just had my head in the clouds, haha.” Her laugh is short and without any warmth. “Must run in the family.”

Hero simply hums in agreement.

“That reminds me,” he continues after a second of uncomfortable silence. "Sunny was trying to slice an apple, and he cut his finger. He's fine but—"

"What?!" Mari cries, leaping up from her seat. “Is he oka—Agh!” she hisses, her leg giving way as she attempts to cross the room.

Luckily, Hero moves fast and manages to catch her before she can fully tumble over. Holding her up by the waist, her hands grip onto his shoulders like he's the last handhold on a steep cliff face. What starts as an embarrassed, if not ashamed, expression on the young girl's face quickly morphs into her signature smug smile.

It’s a nostalgic albeit bittersweet sight, but by God, he’s missed it.

“My Hero~” she purrs.

“Mari…” Hero whines.

This is usually the part where Mari would laugh at his evident embarrassment. But instead, she practically shrinks in his arms, her cocky façade crumbling like a sandcastle in a storm.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “…Can you help me get my cane?”

Why she even needs one is a complete mystery to Hero. Her knee was never the same after her softball accident, but it was never so bad that she needed a cane for it. He has a feeling it’s linked to the scar on her cheek, but much like with Sunny’s missing eye, he hasn’t a single clue as to what that could possibly symbolise. Maybe this dream is about an alternative outcome—a hypothetical world where Mari’s attempt failed and she busted her leg in the process.

That still doesn’t explain Sunny’s own injury, though…

“Of course,” he replies. Gently guiding her back over to the piano, she takes a seat and gives him an awkward but grateful smile as he passes her the cane. "Looks a little worse for wear,” he notes, not so subtly prying for answers.

"Guess it matches its owner then," she grumbles under her breath. Hero's frown deepens, and Mari's quickly matches. "…I went to play it," she starts. "But I only pressed a single key, and then I just… froze. I went to play again and I-I couldn't," she admits, a level of vulnerability to her voice that Hero had only heard previously on a few rare occasions. “I just kept thinking about everything that’s happened and…” she glances at the dent in the piano’s dark finish. “Yeah.”

“Mari, you—”

“Never mind that, though!” Mari exclaims, rather clumsily sidestepping the topic at hand. “Let’s go check on my little brother!”

Her cheery demeanour is so forced it’s sickening. Hero had always loved her smile, but this… this is just wrong.

“He’s fine,” Hero replies. “Bandaged him up a second ago,” he explains casually. Although it’s apparent by Mari’s expression that she’s not so easily convinced. “He uh, didn’t want me to tell you about this,” he adds sheepishly. “So, I think… I think he might need space.”

“Oh…” Mari mumbles defeatedly. Her posture and demeanour having immediately deflated. “I see… of course he does,” she agrees, albeit solemnly. “I’m probably the last person he wants to see right now.”

“That’s not true. I’m sure he’s just—” he goes to reassure her.

“Henry,” she interjects, her tone cold yet solemn.

It’s funny, Hero always hated how often everyone used his nickname, but whenever Mari called him by his real name, it felt so much worse. It was almost akin to a parent using their child’s full legal name—it never meant anything good.

“Get real.” Mari’s gaze is cast firmly on her cane. Given the strange nature of this dream, Hero almost expects it to catch ablaze with how hard she glares at it.

That is, if she doesn’t crush it in her grasp first.

“I am,” Hero insists. “I know things are weird right now, but you’re his sister! You’ll work this out eventually.”

“…Sure, whatever you say,” Mari ‘relents’, barely putting any effort into pretending she’s convinced. She frowns and visibly bites her tongue, unmistakably mulling something over. “Did… did you run his finger under the tap before you put the bandage on?”

“Yep.”

“Good, good… thanks Hero,” she sighs, a tired smile creeping back onto her face.

Whatever happened between the siblings here, it’s nice to see that they still care about each other. Although Hero still has no clue what any of this actually means.

“…So, can I help you?” Mari suddenly asks.

“Huh?”

“I mean, it’s great seeing you, but did… did you need something?”

He can tell she’s trying not to be rude—she’s not doing a very good job, but she’s trying her best.

“You asked me to come over?” Hero replies, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Slipping off a backpack he didn't realise he was wearing, he opens it up and pulls out a modest stack of papers. "You wanted me to drop off your homework."

Mari’s eyes widen with recognition, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she takes the pile of assignments from his hands.

“Oh yeah, I completely forgot about that,” she chuckles stiffly. "Thanks, Hero. I swear, my head's been all over the place lately."

For whatever reason, they both wince at that comment.

“…Do you know when you’re going to start attending again?” he asks after a long pause.

“What, miss me that much already?” she replies, her tone still teasing but not quite as flirtatious as earlier.

“Yes,” he responds instantly.

Hero feels his own cheeks burning, and he can see that Mari isn’t faring much better.

God, they really were that obvious, weren’t they?

“Well, I think I need another week… at least.” Her free hand clutches the hem of her dress. “Doctors recommended I take some time to get used to this,” she adds, glaring once again at the crooked cane in her hand.

“Right,” Hero mumbles dejectedly. “What about Sunny?”

“I… I don’t know.” Mari frowns. “At least another couple of weeks. Maybe even a month.”

Realistically, it’s probably going to be longer. Reading between the lines here, it’s evident these strange injuries are both recent and related. And a boy of Sunny's age losing something as important as an eye? That's going to take a long time to adjust to.

“…What are they saying?” she asks, filling the silence left in the wake of her last comment.

“They?” Hero repeats.

“At school,” she clarifies, a forlorn look on her face. Hero feels himself bite his tongue. “I imagine they’re loving this—Mari Suzuki, star student, cripple, abusive sib—"

“Mari!”

“Don’t ‘Mari’ me, Henry,” she huffs, shoulders slumping as a bitter look crosses her face. “It’s true! I did this to him! God, how's he going to handle it, Hero? He already struggled with bullies; they’ll tear him apart!”

Four years of looking at his past through rose-tinted glasses had blinded him to the issues that plagued those days—they all seemed so trivial in comparison to what was to come. But Mari is right, kids can be cruel, and Sunny's quiet nature did make him a target for bullying. He'd usually have friends nearby to help, but…

He vividly recalls the ice pack in his hand and the bruise blooming across the boy’s cheek. Aubrey had looked just about ready to kill someone; Basil wasn’t much better. And as for Mari…

She would’ve burnt the whole world to keep him safe. If his hunch about this ‘dream’ is correct, then he’s starting to understand why she’s so upset.

“He won’t be alone,” Hero says, taking a tentative step forward. “And neither will you.”

Mari stares at him like he’d just offered the most diabolical wretch alive a helping hand—equal parts admiration and bafflement.

“I couldn’t help you then,” he continues, his words truer than he realises. “So let me help you no—”

He's interrupted by Mari, quickly bridging the gap between them and cupping his face in her hands. She pulls him into a hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her soft hair tickles his cheek as she leans in close.

‘Finally here, huh?’

For a second there, he thought this dream might end differently. How stupid of him. Nearly four years of these nightmares, and he somehow still deludes himself into thinking things will change. If nothing else, he seriously wishes his body would let him close his eyes. He’d rather not see what happens next.

Henry feels her breath on his neck as she whispers into his ear with a kind, loving voice:

“It’s not your fault.”

‘What.’

Four words. Four simple words. Yet to Hero, they're incomprehensible—like someone speaking a foreign language and expecting him to understand. It’s like being winded. His jaw might have gone slack if not for the rift between his mind and his dream-self. Four years of constant nightmares, shattered by a single sentence.

“It’s not yours either,” his dream-self mumbles, oblivious as ever.

“…”

“I mean it, Mari.”

“I know.”

They stay like that for a long time. He wants to cry, but no tears come. That’s the cruellest part—if he were given even an ounce of control, he’d use it now. There’s so much he wants to say. But his lips won’t move.

When they finally part, Hero braces for the dream to take a turn for the worse. For Mari to curse him out, for that accursed tree to rise in the distance, for the dreadful creak of that wretched jump rope to cut through the silence.

But none of that happens.

Instead, Mari smiles; it's small, but soft and warm. He returns it without thinking.

Then he blinks.

And wakes up in bed.

Every day, Henry follows the same routine:

Wake up at seven AM sharp.

Make his bed. Tidy his room.

Shave, shower, dress.

Be in the kitchen by half-past.

Eat breakfast.

Be out of the house by eight.

Go to campus if there are lectures. Otherwise, stroll around Nearby for an hour. Pick up groceries if needed.

Study until twelve (at home or on campus).

Have lunch.

Study some more.

Use the rest of his day as he sees fit.

It’s pretty rigid—at least for a college student that is. But it was formed through trial and error. Through his determination to not waste any more of his days rotting in bed.

It’s one of only two constants in his life.

But routines are like dominoes—tip one over and…

Henry wakes at six.

He lies in bed for another two hours.

No shower. No change of clothes.

The bed remains unmade.

The thought of breakfast never even occurs to him.

Nor does walking or studying.

His thoughts are plagued solely by last night’s ‘dream’.

He turns it over in his head until the morning sun is shining brightly through his blinds. Yet he reaches no new conclusions. It had to be a dream, yet it felt so real; he remembers it as clear as yesterday. The sights. The sensations. The disconnect between his mind and his body. What Mari said to him…

Is this what moving on is? Has he finally reached that point? Did his mind construct a whole new reality just to tell him what his family has been saying for years?

No, he doubts that. Nothing has happened in the past week to mark such a sudden change. Years of nightmares, a consistent thread of self-loathing tying them all together, finally broken on a whim? Surely not.

And yet, what’s the alternative? He knows in his gut it wasn’t just a dream, but when do feelings outweigh fact? The mind is a strange and frightening place—few truly understand it. So by all likelihood, it probably was just some freakishly vivid fever dream.

Either way, he can't deny that the weight on his chest feels lighter. Even if he doesn’t fully believe what Mari said—it wasn’t even intended for him after all—he can’t deny it felt good to hear those words.

Eventually, Henry musters the will to resume his usual tasks. Running on barely any sleep, and with his whole reality having been shaken, even lifting a finger feels like a Herculean effort. Still, he’s more or less on schedule—so the morning might just be salvageable. Stretching his back, wincing at the noise it makes, and then lumbering towards the bathroom, he finds himself silently grateful for choosing an ensuite. Sure, it costs more, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with his hungover roommate (well, flatmate now, he supposes) hogging the toilet all morning.

Opening the door, Henry goes to examine himself in the mirror. But what he finds isn't what he expected.

Instead of a tired face in desperate need of a shave, he's greeted by a clean, lively face. He still looks a bit drained, but it’s the regular kind of tired, the ‘I could’ve used another hour’ drowsiness most people suffer from, not the miserable exhaustion he’s used to seeing. His reflection matches his confusion at least, although after blinking a few times, it changes once again, the mirror now showing the features he expected to see: a scruffy stubble, heavy eye bags, and a shockingly bad bed head.

He blinks a few more times just to be safe, but his likeness remains the same.

‘…I’m actually losing it.’

Sleep deprivation can cause the mind all kinds of trouble, and this is hardly his first time hallucinating. But seeing things in the mirror right after that strange dream… it’s a bit unnerving. Glancing around the small washroom, he struggles to calm his nerves, unable to shake the feeling he’s being watched.

…Well, on second thought, his routine has already been derailed enough; maybe the bathroom can wait just a little bit longer. He does still need to pack a lot of his stuff away.

Whilst technically, his tenancy here doesn’t end until next week, most of his flatmates have already moved out, and he himself will be going back to Faraway tomorrow. So, having skipped his ablutions for the interim, the next hour of his day is spent… well, less cleaning up, and more packing away everything he doesn’t immediately need.

By the time he’s finished, the room is left a shell of its former self, with almost all sense of character removed, it’s restored to a blank canvas, ready for the next resident to make their mark. He's still living with the same people next year, but with the rent on this property going up, they’re having to move again. Truthfully, Henry’s not too bothered by it. After his brief stint as a shut-in, he’s learnt to appreciate the importance of a change in scenery.

When he does finally decide to enter the bathroom again, a whole hour and a half after his initial attempt, he’s relieved to see his usual reflection. Although said relief quickly fades as he realises just how terrible he looks. Exam stress had made him skip out on shaving for a while, and boy, the results of that are telling.

Normally, he’d be quick in the bathroom, being conscious of his self-imposed time limits. But today he’s in no rush. He’s already hours behind schedule, and with most of his stuff now packed and no deadlines on the horizon, he really has nothing to get a step on for. So, he takes his time shaving, being extremely careful not to nick himself with the razor—it brings back bad memories. And he allows himself the luxury of a long shower.

It's two o’clock by the time he finally exits his room. Normally, he'd be halfway through his afternoon study block by now. Mind you, that doesn’t really matter, seeing as he doesn't exactly have anything to study for right now. Which, in some ways, is both a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, exam season was incredibly stressful and almost had him relapse into some bad habits. But on the other hand, work is a good distraction.

Henry is a man of schedules and order—out of necessity more than preference. He’s burnt through just about every coping mechanism there is, and keeping himself busy—distracted, is easily the best one he’s found. More tame stuff like drinking and smoking still creep in now and then, and the more… unpleasant “solutions” are long gone, thankfully. But all of them were ultimately just distractions, short-term remedies to a lingering problem, usually doing him more harm than good. But now, with his current routine, he’s top of the class!

Sure, he hates every second of it, but at least he’ll graduate with a good degree.

Alas, it's the present he's worried about now, though. Normally, his daily routine helps distract himself from Faraway—from Mari, but without an immediate deadline or goal, he's left aimless, alone with his thoughts. And on days like today, that's never a good thing. Because whilst he’s trying not to think about going home tomorrow, or that dream, or his… wrong reflection, the strangeness of it all continues to haunt his mind.

…Perhaps, he simply overworked himself.

This last term was rather stressful, and with his return to Faraway looming overhead, maybe his brain is just responding accordingly. Letting him dream of a better world and see a better him.

If that’s the case, then he wishes his mind understood the concept of insult to injury. Seeing himself all happy and tidy was great and all, but blinking a few times just to be greeted by his actual appearance… yeah, it wasn’t a great feeling.

Guided more by his rumbling stomach than his conscience, Henry wanders down the hall to the flat's communal kitchen. It's the cleanest he's ever seen it. Largely because it's completely barren. Everyone else has already cleaned their stuff out; Henry might actually be the last resident still here.

Opening his designated cupboard, Henry’s already bad mood sours even further. It’s an almost comical sight—there’s nothing bar a few stray crumbs left on the shelf. He could almost picture a cobweb in the top corner.

‘I forgot to go shopping… damn it.’

There’s no point in doing a weekly shop when he’s leaving tomorrow, but he should probably go out and buy some lunch at least. Although he supposes it’s more like brunch at this point.

The sudden creaking of the kitchen door alerts Henry, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, morning sunshine,” a snarky voice greets.

He groans as he recognises its owner and turns to see a smug smirk he’s all too familiar with.

It's Rowan. Amateur photographer, avid conspiracy theorist, and probable alcoholic. Also, Henry's roommate turned flatmate, and the closest thing he has to a best friend here.

A man who perpetually lives in red flannel and torn jeans, Rowan shares an uncanny resemblance to Henry’s old friend, Basil. Seriously, if it weren’t for the jet-black hair, he could easily pass as the blonde’s older brother. He’d actually enquired about a possible relation once, curious if he was a distant cousin to the Flower family or something, to which Rowan had ‘helpfully’ remarked:

“My Mom had like ten siblings; I've got a whole army of cousins I've never bloody met."

Henry had stopped bringing it up after that.

“It’s two o’clock,” he deadpans.

“I know, I was taking the piss,” his roommate retorts, rolling his eyes. “Never known you to be up this late. You’re usually up at like five AM or something stupid.”

Hidden behind that smug smile is a hint of genuine concern. It's in moments like this that Henry appreciates his friend the most; at a surface level, Rowan seems like an abrasive, drunken weirdo, but when you get to know him, he’s loyal to a fault.

“What, did you think the shadow government got me or something?” Henry retorts with a smirk of his own. “Thought you were at O’s anyway.”

"You're laughing now, medicine man, but you get too good at your job, and they’ll grab ya." To this day, Henry can't tell how serious Rowan is when he says that stuff. "Also, you're seriously still calling him that?"

‘O’ as Henry knows him is Rowan’s… well, no word can truly describe the mess that is their on-and-off relationship.

“You refuse to tell me his actual name,” Henry points out.

The only time he’s actually spoken to ‘O’ was when he called Rowan, only for a drunk O to pick up instead. He was absolutely wasted—no sober man insists you call them a letter—but the nickname stuck regardless, and whilst Rowan hates it, he won’t give up the man's real name either.

“Fair enough,” Rowan concedes, once again refusing to provide any explanation. “Also, nah, he kicked me out again,” he adds casually.

Henry would be more alarmed if this exact situation hadn’t played out countless times over the past two years. Honestly, he has absolutely no idea why they keep going back to each other, considering the longest they’ve gone without fighting is a single month. He does feel for O, though, the man's apparently a recluse, and as a former shut-in himself, Henry knows how overwhelming life can be.

“Oh!” Rowan’s face suddenly lights up with recollection. “I almost forgot, I met his sister whilst over and—”

“He has a sister?”

"Yeah?" Rowan replies, like it should be obvious, giving him an incredulous look. "A younger one—about our age.”

O is only a year older than them, so him having a sister their age adds up. But Rowan’s expression implies that Henry should’ve known that already. For some strange reason, his pulse quickens.

“I was yelling at O about how you got your shit together and how he should too,” Rowan explains.

“Don’t use me as an example in your arguments,” Henry frowns.

‘Especially when it’s a lie.’

"And his sister was agreeing with me, but then she paused, like she recognised your name or something," Rowan continues, undeterred by his reprimand. "And on the way out, she stopped me and asked about ya.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, said you spoke a while back, wanted me to say hi for her.”

“…What was her name?” Henry cautiously asks, a rising dread threatening to upset what little content sits in his stomach.

“Mary.”

It suddenly feels like gravity has doubled. A wave of emotion crashes into his already fragile consciousness, like lightning striking twice in the same place. He clutches the kitchen countertop for balance, mentally praying that his sudden distress isn't too obvious. Although he's almost certain that it is.

“Oh…” Henry mumbles, having realised he hasn’t replied yet. “Yeah, we uh, shared a… class, a while back,” he lies through his teeth.

“Huh,” Rowan snorts, an unreadable look on his face. “Well, you should text her. She seemed into you.”

By the time Rowan finishes, Henry’s already halfway to the door.

"Yeah, totally," he hastily replies, brushing his friend off as he continues to make a beeline for the exit. "Look, I'm starving, so I'm gonna grab some lunch. If I don't see you later, then I'll catch you next term, alright?"

This will be the last time he sees his friend for at least a few months. He really ought to give him a proper goodbye, but it feels like the whole world is spinning—if he stays here any longer, he’s going to faint.

"Whatever," Rowan replies, rolling his eyes again. "Cya later, lover boy," he chuckles.

Henry doesn’t reply.

Nearby City is suffocating.

Maybe it’s just because Henry is a small-town boy at heart, or a ‘surprisingly hot hick' as Rowan would put it, but he's never really cared for the hustle and bustle of cities. Crowds of people blur together here, strangers moving together like waves of flesh, all mindlessly pushing past one another, all protagonists of their own stories, all having no regard for those surrounding them.

It’s so disgustingly impersonal to Henry.

For all its faults, you recognise faces in Faraway; you get to know your neighbours, your local business owners, even the people out walking at the same time as you. But here, you can see a thousand faces in an hour and not remember a single one.

Although there’s one face he wishes he could forget right now…

Skyscrapers reach up into the night sky, like dark fingers grasping at the starless void above, those pretty cosmic sparkles snuffed out by the city's light pollution. Henry remembers lying on the grass of Faraway Park, he and his friends staring wide-eyed at the very stars this metropolis smothers.

Looking back, he can’t help but think… that would’ve been the best time to die.

It was probably the last day he was truly happy, before his parents started getting more insistent about his future, before he became estranged from the kids he considered family, before Sunny withdrew himself from the outside world, and before Mari…

Sighing, Henry skirts around a group of loud teenagers before slipping into a nearby fast-food place. It's a cheap chain, only 'local' in the sense that it's exclusive to their state. A small part of him—that distant dream of a gourmet chef—takes objection to giving this place his hard-earned cash. Whilst the more logical side of himself reasons that he’s been aimlessly wandering the city all day, running off little more than a cheap hot dog he bought for lunch.

Henry agrees with the latter logic and quickly orders his meal from the tired cashier. She looks about Kel's age, with long, dark brown hair and equally dim, tired eyes; strangely, he's reminded of Aubrey—that little girl who once looked up at him with stars in her eyes. She must be about sixteen herself now.

From what his brother has said over their calls, she didn’t take Mari’s death very well—hardly surprising, Mari was as much Aubrey’s sister as she was Sunny’s.

Henry doubts Aubrey would be happy to see him nowadays. He’s been out of her life longer than he was ever in it, and she’s no longer the same little girl who used to insist they play house together—his cheeks burning bright red as she made him play the father and Mari the mother. The latter always delighted in his awkward attempts to dodge the role.

‘Kel always used to play the dog,’ he recalls fondly, though the warmth of nostalgia soon fades as he remembers just how long ago that was.

It’s actually rather sad in hindsight. To him, it was all just a game, a source of embarrassment even, but looking back, it’s clear Aubrey had trouble at home. She hid it well. But Mari had her suspicions, and after hearing them... well, it was hard not to notice how the girl flinched whenever someone yelled a bit too loudly. Those silly little games they used to play may very well have been the closest thing she had to a stable family life.

He really hopes she’s holding up all right, but he knows in his heart that she isn’t.

‘Yet another friend you’ve failed.’

He's suddenly dragged back to the present by a loud sigh.

“Dude,” the cashier groans, somehow looking even more exhausted now. He gets the impression she’s been trying to get his attention for a while. “Your order’s ready.”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologises, mumbling his words as he awkwardly collects his food.

His burger is nothing to write home about—if anything, it’s actually quite bad. The patty’s too cold, yet somehow the lettuce is too warm. He'd thought his order was finished suspiciously fast. Still, food is food, and taste hardly matters to him right now. He could be eating filet mignon and feel just as disappointed.

Crammed into a dirty booth, Henry slowly sips at his drink, still lost in thought, he opens his phone, typing in the simple passcode: ‘one, four, three’. The screen opens to show the same thing he’s been looking at since he first left his flat. A single, simple text, left on read for over two years now.

M4RY: Hey

With every mindless bite he takes of his bland burger, his eyes remain firmly locked on that message—he’s so fixated he almost bites his fingers off at one point.

He doesn’t know what to make of anything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. His dream, his reflection, and now Rowan’s chance encounter with Mary…

Why would she still be asking about him after all these years? They spoke once! And it was tragic! Sure, they shared a brief moment of vulnerability with each other, and admittedly, he’s never truly forgotten her, but…

Is this a sign? Is the universe telling him it’s okay to move on? Showing him what he could have had, in order to help him see what he can have?

Hell, if he knows.

All he knows is that it’s another problem to worry about. He’s already been dreading going home all week as is. Not because he didn’t want to see his family, but because that town is full of ghosts. Echoes of his childhood ring throughout those quiet suburbs; memories and regrets drip from every rusty lamppost and litter every curb. The consequences of his crushed promises and flimsy excuses haunt every conversation there—they all call him Hero for God’s sake! It was just a stupid nickname born from his love for a type of sandwich, but over time, it became a name with enough expectations attached to weigh even the strongest of men down.

It's a sick joke.

A hero would have helped his brother mourn instead of snapping at him, would have checked in on Aubrey and Basil, would have gotten Sunny out of the same depression he once flirted with…

A Hero wouldn’t have let Mari die.

But… it’s almost funny.

He’s had that exact thought a thousand times. Believed like gospel. Muttered it to himself as he carved a dozen little lines into his wrists and later as he drank enough spirits to kill a small mammal. He believed it more than anything else in the world. And yet…

Those words ring hollow now.

Henry mulls over that realisation for a long time, yet doesn’t have any coherent conclusions to show for it by the time he’s done. Maybe moving forward isn’t meant to be profound. Maybe it just… happens; you wake up one day and realise it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. Because whilst that pain never truly goes away, it does lessen with time.

At least, that's what everyone always told him. Until today, he never really believed it. In hindsight, he's not sure he truly wanted to. The idea almost used to offend him, like moving forward would somehow be spiting Mari. But…

“It’s not your fault.”

Kel was right all those years ago. She would hate to see him like this. Sighing, he reaches for a fry and plops it into his mouth.

It’s stone cold.

M4RY: Hey

Hero: Hi

Hero: It’s been a while

It’s well past midnight by the time Henry gets back to his flat.

He didn’t check his phone once during his long walk back— ‘a problem for tomorrow morning,’ he told himself, all the while cursing himself for picking accommodation on the outskirts of the city. The surrounding streets were eerily silent, the earlier noise of the bustling city replaced with the faint hum of distant traffic and the echo of his footsteps. Wandering Nearby hadn’t been so bad when he was in a dazed trance, but the walk back from that burger place almost did him in. City walking is harsh on the feet, and Henry isn’t as in shape as he might appear to be.

His apartment building stands tall compared to the surrounding structures—skyscrapers are rare this far out. It’s a student complex, so it’s marginally better than most of the flats he’s seen around Nearby, but consequently, it’s also overpriced as hell. He swears half their rent goes into keeping that stupid sign clean.

Written in Comic Sans of all fonts, and coloured an obnoxious lime green, the logo reads:

'Mega Student Housing.'

What makes it mega? Henry couldn't say for the life of him. Maybe how mega disappointing it is to have the boiler break in the middle of winter.

Leaning against one of the building's exterior support beams, he sighs and cups his hand around his lighter, flicking it repeatedly until it finally produces a small flame—a tiny beacon in the dark of the night. He lowers his head and lights the cigarette nestled between his lips, the familiar pungent stench of burning tobacco invading his nostrils as he does. But before inhaling any smoke, he suddenly and impulsively pulls it away, letting the glowing butt slowly simmer instead. He frowns as the paper singes, the white wrapper gradually burning away into nothing but ash.

The irony of a wannabe doctor smoking has never been lost on him, but tonight, that's evidently enough to sway him.

In darker days, he used to stub out his cigarettes between his fingers. The first time, he did it slowly—his thumb and index finger sizzling as they closed in on the glowing tip of that accursed cancer stick. It didn’t scar, but it did hurt. A lot. After that, he learned to be quick—a fast pinch usually did the trick, the pain no worse than catching your finger on a hot pan. Eventually, he stopped doing it entirely, although that nasty habit lasted a lot longer than it should have.

With the memory of scorched skin fresh on his mind, he gazes at the smouldering cigarette in his grasp, before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath his trainers. Then, feeling guilty about littering, he scoops what remains up and tosses it into a nearby bin.

The elevator ride up to his floor is short, the walk from there to his room, even shorter.

As he opens the door to his now bare room, he takes a second to appreciate the overpriced ensuite that’s housed him these past few months—before promptly collapsing onto his bed, smothering his face in its silky pillow.

Today has been something else entirely.

In some ways, it felt like it went by in a blink, like he only just woke up an hour ago and is now already going back to sleep. But in other ways, it felt like he lived an entire lifetime in a single day. A dozen faces—Mary, Rowan, the injured Suzukis—flicker through his mind, blurring together until they feel as distant as the stars swallowed by the light of this city.

But if one thing is clear, it’s that he’s absolutely exhausted.

Not even bothering to take off anything more than his trousers and shoes, he lies down on his mattress and tucks the sheets close. As he closes his eyes, he wishes for nothing more than dreamless sleep. No ghosts, no messages, no false memories. Just the dark, the quiet embrace of slumber, and the rest it will provide.

He needs that more than anything else right now.

Because he has a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day.

END OF ACT 1.

Chapter Text

A long time ago, there was a boy.

Shy and quiet, he never quite fit in amongst his peers. Even those closest to him never really understood him—there’s only so much you can read from a blank face.

Still, he was a good kid at heart. He had friends, a loving family, a cute puppy crush, and a pile of childish interests. Games were key amongst those—video games specifically. The boy was a natural at them: racing, fighting, platformers, beat 'em ups, even those blocky shooters his older sister wouldn’t have approved of—he excelled at them all.

He was the reigning champion of their group gaming sessions, much to the irritation of his more competitive friends. He took a smug satisfaction in his skills. Though his drive for perfection wasn’t as visible as it was in the rest of his family, it was still there, nonetheless. And seeing his name at the top of a leaderboard was about as much pride as he ever allowed himself, being one of rare few times you could catch him smiling.

But little did his friends know, his interest went far deeper than mere enjoyment. He was fascinated by the very bones of games: level design, enemy placement, soundtrack motifs, battle mechanics, environmental storytelling, art, writing—all of it. He devoured developer notes in gaming magazines, amazed by how much thought hid behind every tiny detail, how much passion went into every pixel he saw on the screen.

And to him, the culmination of this obsession was JRPGs—Japanese Role-Playing Games. A good shooter or platformer could be a great time killer, whilst racing and fighting games were an excellent way to humble his friends. But JRPGS? They gave him stories. Worlds to live in. They scratched an itch nothing else could.

But alas, the boy had other commitments. Another hobby soon consumed him, until it devoured every second of his spare time… and then, everything else too.

The boy was never the same after that. His home, once filled with chatter and music, became a house of screaming and cursing, until even that inevitably gave way to deathly silence.

But in those early days, when cries and shouts still echoed through the halls, his only refuge was the piano room. He hated being there, but his parents never dared to enter it, and their racket seemed so far away when he stood before that instrument.

In the glossy black of the piano’s exterior, he saw his reflection—perfect in all the ways he wasn’t. And it was there, etched into it's surface, that he found a new name:

‘OMORI.'

The change wasn’t immediate, but the seed was planted. And as he began to find more comfort in dreams than reality, that seed slowly sprouted.

Alas, trauma lingers. His bright dreamscapes often rotted into nightmares, dragging him right back to what he was trying so hard to forget. Then, one night it got too much. Everything he’d been trying to repress came flooding back in all at once.

So, he responded the only way he knew how.

He cut deep. But stopped short.

The next night, he found salvation in his shadow.

Omori began as armour; a mask the boy could wear to traverse his dreams without remorse. But soon a mere disguise wasn’t enough. And so, Omori was given more freedom—more control. He did not create Headspace, but he could shape it. Bend it. Mold it to his will—and his creator’s desires. In this way, the boy’s love of games lived on. Omori built locations and bosses, enemies and rules. He made Headspace into the ultimate distraction. The perfect game.

Or so he believed.

Four years.

Four years of hard work is currently crashing down around Omori.

He’d say he put his blood sweat and tears into this world, but seeing as he can’t produce any of those substances, that would be a bold-faced lie. But were he of flesh and blood, then he would’ve certainly poured his entire life into this accursed realm.

But he’s not real. He’s a coping mechanism. An overzealous alter serving an ungrateful brat.

So, all he can really do is try and placate the Dreamer. As he has no power in the waking world, and until recently, that hasn’t mattered. The Dreamer has been little more than an observer these past couple of years, barely even a voice in his own mind.

But yesterday, something changed.

For reasons unbeknownst to Omori, the Dreamer heard his old friend, Kel, knocking on his door, and instead of ignoring it like he used to, he actually answered instead. He opened the door, went outside, met with all his old friends, remembered things Omori had slaved away at repressing and worst of all… he had fun.

If things had been even just a little bit worse, then this mess could have been salvageable. If Aubrey or Basil had treated him with the resentment he deserved, then Omori likely could have kept things on track. The girl usually gets clingier in the lead-up to Sweetheart’s castle so that could have been a potential appeasement. And Basil… well, that would be a can of worms, but it hardly matters now anyway.

BECAUSE AUBREY’S AT HIS HOUSE!

She’s sleeping comfortably in a pile of blankets barely a stone’s throw away from the Dreamer himself! So, it’s all but guaranteed he’ll be going outside again tomorrow!

Now, Omori isn’t the type to feel emotions. He’s not supposed to. Even the reactions he displays in battle are usually shallow exaggerations—mimicries of true feelings existing only as a gimmick to spice up the combat loop.

But with that being said, he wishes he could crawl out of the Dreamer’s mind and slap some sense into the foolish ingrate!

It’s so frustrating! Omori’s sole purpose—his only reason for existing is to entertain, distract and above all else, protect the Dreamer. And he had been! He’d assessed long ago that the boy’s trauma was far too severe to simply work around. No, he needed a clean slate. So, over these past couple of years Omori had gone about systematically repressing the boy’s memories, shoving them into the deepest recesses of his mind, all the while sheltering what remained in the friendly façade of Headspace. It wasn’t hard by any means. In fact, the Dreamer seemed more than willing to forget even his most cherished memories.

Omori had taken that as a sign that he was doing the right thing, and yet, just when they’re about to move out of Faraway, just when Omori’s influence was reaching its peak, the Dreamer decided to just throw it all away on a whim.

‘WHY???! WHY NOW?!’

They were so close! Only two more days until they leave this stupid town! Two days!!!

…But it’s fine.

It doesn’t matter that the Dreamer is going outside again.

It doesn't matter that spending time with his friends is bringing back his memories at an unprecedented rate.

It doesn’t matter that he remembered that Mari died, or that it’s only a matter of time until he remembers how she died.

It doesn’t matter.

Because Omori is nothing if not adaptable.

This is hardly the first time he’s had to improvise. Headspace itself is proof of that: a bundle of contradictions. Here, death and violence clash with bright, colourful creatures. The Slime Girls—questionable in their design and anatomy—exist, yet a simple kiss between characters is censored. All of it was born of trial and error, the fractured product of the Dreamer’s mind, torn between childhood whimsy and adolescent corruption.

Ever changing in its details but never changing in its goal.

One time, after they got stuck on the fight against the tyrannical Sweetheart, the Dreamer woke up and saw his neighbours playing in their front yard. The following night Omori had to make a sports-centric adventure in response. Everyone got their own jersey (except Omori of course) and the gang of friends spent the whole night playing some butchered version of basketball.

In hindsight, repressing the rules of that game was a tad overkill.

Sadly, that was all before Omori learnt that including Mari in his adventures was a recipe for disaster. So, when she went for an ambitious slam dunk, her leg gave way mid-sprint and… well, needless to say that idea was scrapped and that memory—that desperate longing for brotherhood, was thoroughly repressed.

Anyway, the point here is that Omori can flip the script when necessary. And if the Dreamer thinks reality is so great, then he’ll just have to prove that there’s nothing out there that he can’t have in here.

If all goes smoothly, then a couple of days spent outside will hardly matter, they’ll be moving out of town soon no matter what happens next, and in the unfamiliar environment of a new home, it’ll only be a matter of time until the Dreamer relapses.

And when he does, Omori will be waiting for him with open arms.

Besides, he has plenty of ideas for a new storyline, and a handful of rogue assets he’s been meaning to… repurpose. Some things in Headspace were not of his making, nor of the Dreamer’s for that matter. They’re strange loose ends that he’s long been meaning to tie.

So, honestly, this could be a good thing in the long run. A concrete way to definitively prove Headspace’s superiority over reality. He just needs to improv for a couple of nights—fake it till he makes it. And if push comes to shove… well, there’s always the alternative.

But it shouldn’t have to come to that.

It’ll be fine.

Everything is going to be ok—

“Omori?”

Blinking a couple of times, the monochrome boy realises he was lost in his thoughts again, which is ironic given… well, his entire existence.

“Gee, Omori,” Kel starts, leaning forward slightly. “You’re more out of it than usual!”

Right, he’s at a picnic with all his friends (except Basil, obviously). That’s a pretty standard start for these adventures, not the most interesting activity, though he must admit he appreciates the downtime, especially with how stressful things have been recently.

“Shut up Kel!” Aubrey hisses, her long blue hair now tied into a ponytail instead of flowing freely like it usually does—another appeasement to the Dreamer. “...But you have been pretty quiet today, Omori,” she pouts.

Omori would point out that he rarely ever talks, but that in of itself would involve talking, so he just shrugs his shoulders instead.

“You know,” Hero chimes in, his trademark smile as wide as ever. “You can always tell us if anything is wrong.”

His suggestion is met with universal agreement from the rest of his friends. Although Omori finds little comfort in the reassurance. First of all, he literally can’t tell them what’s on his mind, because that would entail explaining to them the falseness of their entire existence. Second of all, he doesn’t like talking.

Honestly, some days he despises how sycophantic his friends have to be.

What? Just because the Dreamer didn’t get asked how his day was going often enough—something he would likely just shrug off anyway—now everyone Omori knows in Headspace has to bend over backwards for him??? He appreciates his friends, but he knows they are the way they are solely to appease a depressed manchild, and that…

That hardly seems fair. His friends are blissfully unaware of their reason for existing, and the Dreamer himself has been barely conscious these past few years, so why is it that he’s the only one that’s truly aware?

…Some days he wishes he was as ignorant as they were.

“You do seem to be a bit distracted today, little brother,” Mari agrees, her eyes faintly shadowed by the crease of her brow. “Is everything okay?”

Oh, Mari…

Omori’s life may be just an idolised echo of the Dreamer’s fondest memories and deepest desires—an endless cycle that he must suffer through to placate the boy he exists to protect; but he does have genuine love for a select few things here. One is the final attack he and his friends can perform together, something he can’t help but sincerely smile during. Another is this world’s design—he’s an artist above all else and he does take pride in his work. Most important of all though is his sister.

No matter where they are in Headspace, Mari is usually only a minute away with a picnic already prepared for them. Her presence lingers over this entire realm. Even the pastel colour palette of this world reflects her love of cooler colours, particularly purple.

So, whilst this world may be fake, his love for his sister is anything but that.

He supposes that’s one thing he and the Dreamer truly have in common. Even when he was little more than an emotionless shield, his creator’s love for their sibling poured into them—paving the way for the newfound autonomy he now flexes.

“Omori?”

Ah, right. He’s supposed to give a response.

Simply nodding his head in silent acknowledgement seems to appease the rest of his friends, but his sister looks less than convinced. Omori often gets the impression she's wiser than she lets on. But he also knows that she won’t push the matter any further, so her concerns are appreciated but ultimately disregarded.

It’s time to get this show on the road anyway.

“Excuse me young ones,” a kind yet elderly voice calls out, startling the gang of children.

It’s a plain ring donut dressed in a purple skirt and ring glasses. Atop their head is a cloud of puffy white hair… oh wait, no, that’s custard. They’re about the size of Omori’s torso and have the signature purple hue that accompanies all Headspace residents (bar himself, of course). A pair of beady eyes hide behind thick glass lenses—the only truly humanising trait of this newcomer, which raises the question of how exactly this thing even speaks in the first place. Like, is the donut hole it's mouth? Because if so that raises a lot of questions.

“Ah, hello madam,” Hero greets, charming as ever. “How can we help you?”

“Oh, such a kind young man,” the elderly woman coos, instantly embarrassing the teenager and gaining a smug smirk from Mari and a poorly stifled laugh from Kel. “Well, you see, I’m not from around here, and the new sheriff back home has been causing such a stir,” they explain, their donut hole blessedly not moving as they speak. “It started off well enough, arresting those nosey gators, but then they turned on the constructions workers and now, no one’s safe!”

For a talking pastry they’re surprisingly emotive.

“They arrested all my neighbours! And I fear my sisters are next in line! Won't you please help a donut in need? I would face them myself but I’m afraid my best days are behind me…”

“A sheriff?” Kel quizzes. “Like a cowboy?”

“A cowboy?!” Hero repeats, failing to hide his excitement. “I mean,” he coughs clearing his throats. “We’d be happy to help ma’m but you see we’re meant to be looking for our friend and—"

“Hero!” Aubrey cries, rising from her spot on the blanket, an indignant inflection to her voice.  “People are in danger! We can’t just leave them!”

“So what? We leave Basil instead?” Kel mumbles aloud, his eyes widening as he realises, he spoke much louder than he intended too.

Omori watches as a teal blur blazes across the picnic blanket.

“Wai—ARGH!” Kel cries as Aubrey grabs him by the neck.

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT JERK!!!”

Chaos reigns over the picnic as Aubrey strangles the boisterous boy; Hero tries and fails to mitigate the situation whilst Mari’s oh so helpful advice of: “Don’t strangle your friend Aubrey!” proves to be unfortunately ineffective.

Omori simply rolls his eyes at the display. It’s just business as usual at this point.

From the brief glances he took at yesterday's memories, it seems that even in the real world these two still butt heads then make amends. Some people never truly change. Omori knows that better than most. Although that does make him briefly wonder why he’s even bothering to change the script here if reality is just a stagnant as these dreams.

“I’m sorry,” the donut grandma interjects, pausing the big ball of violence mid-fight and poor Kel mid-suplex.  “What did you say your friend was called?”

“Basil,” Aubrey replies, dropping Kel down onto the ground. “Have you seen him??? He’s uhhh,” she pauses, features creasing—like she just ate an entire lemon whole. Looks like his friends are already starting to forget their missing companion. “Well, he likes flowers…” she adds weakly.

“Hmmm,” the donut hums. “You know sweetie, I think I’ve heard that name before. Yes! Miss Palmie mentioned them before the Sheriff dragged her off! I'd bet that nasty cowboy has him locked up with all the others!”

“Guess that sorts it then,” Hero states. “Where exactly is this sheriff, ma’am?”

Omori rises, dusting himself off as the donut continues to explain things he already knows. The Dreamer can listen to her dialogue all he wants, but that doesn’t mean Omori has to. He’s learnt how to tune these things out over time.

“And how exactly do we get to this… Orange Oasis?” Hero asks.

Wow, her explanation is already over. That was fast.

Now, in theory, Omori should be paying attention to every line of dialogue here. This is the first time he’s properly utilised this character. But honestly, he just doesn’t have the energy for that right now, there are much more important events ahead that need his focus, so he’ll take a break wherever he can find them.

The irony of a dream being tired isn't lost on him, but it certainly isn't appreciated either.

“You’ll have to get the train over,” the donut grandma replies. “The travel is way too far on foot, even for you youngins!” 

“Man! We gotta get the train?!” Kel whines. “But there’s a massive line there! We’re gonna be stuck there for hours!”

That’s what he thinks.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetie!” the donut smiles… or at least, Omori thinks that’s an attempt at one. “The line was already clear by the time I arrived.”

“Wait!” Aubrey exclaims, stars visible in her eyes. “Didn’t the Space Pirates give us a train pass?”

Right on cue, Omori retrieves the pass from his pocket. Holding it between his ring and index finger, he allows it to flutter slightly in the wind, silently answering his friend’s response before pocketing it again.

“Huh, that’s convenient,” Kel states.

He doesn’t know the half of it.

“Well gang,” Hero starts, slowly rising to his feet. “Looks like we’re off to Orange Oasis!”

Aubrey and Kel cheer, Mari gives a small clap and Omori just stands there, as silent as ever.

“I guess I’ll meet you guys there,” Mari says, her smile warm enough to melt a thousand glaciers. “I need to prepare my next picnic!”

“Hey Mari?” Kel calls.

“Yes Kel?”

“How do you always manage to get ahead of us?”

“Hehe~” she chuckles, an incredibly smug smile on her face. “I’ll never tell~”

Kel pouts, Aubrey tries asking Mari herself to no avail, Hero asks the donut more about their destination, and Omori fiddles with the handle of the knife in his pocket.

These next couple of adventure have to be perfect.

Reality is far too appealing to the Dreamer right now; there’s no hope of keeping him inside tomorrow, but if he can just get two perfect dreams in a row, then maybe, just maybe he can salvage this mess.

“Ready to hit the road Omori?” Aubrey asks, taking his hand in her own, her eyes glimmering like a thousand shooting stars.

No. But what other choice does he have?

Even in endless dreams time ticks forward.

Stone’s Throw is a small town. Sunny has only spent a single night here—first arriving under the cover of darkness after almost an entire day of driving—yet he already feels as though he’s seen the whole place. There’s a Church, a few stores, the motel his family is staying at and… that’s about it.

It’s nice though. The small size means it’s rather peaceful here—quiet too. Sunny appreciates that last bit the most. Back home—well, it’s not home anymore, but back in the city, it was always so… loud.

So loud he struggled to focus on anything but the noise.

But here he can actually hear himself think. He can hear the spring breeze rattle the leaves of nearby trees, hear the distant chirping of birds, and most importantly, hear the approaching steel titan barrelling down the tracks he stands before.

For Stone’s Throw has one truly notable feature and that is the massive train line running through it. His Dad said it’s ‘commercial’, though Sunny doesn’t know what that means. Probably something business related if he had to guess. Anyway, Sunny has never seen a proper train in person before, or certainly not a freight train anyway. So, why not indulge his childish curiosity whilst here?

The clickety-clacking of the train’s wheels get louder and louder as the train approaches, until it suddenly whooshes past him, the gust almost knocking him backwards. It’s loud. So much louder than he anticipated. Sunny covers his ears as the train goes screeching past.

However, the train continues its march onwards, ignorant to his discomfort. It’s like an arrow or maybe a bullet—a metal rod speeding off in a set direction.

In a matter of seconds his curiosity has morphed into fear. He came here to distract himself; to take his mind off the one thing he’s been thinking about this entire journey. And yet, this train has embodied his fears even more than the endless roads they’ve been driving down.

His family is moving. Their direction is set. There’s no going back.

Now, Sunny never liked the city. He was born there, and has spent almost his entire life there, but he’s never enjoyed his time living there by any means. The sights and sounds were always too overwhelming, he struggled to make friends with kids in school, and yet…

He liked their home: the quiet comfort it provided, the park it sat opposite to, the bed he slept in, and his sister’s which he occasionally shared with her. He liked the kitchen, and the old grandfather clock they inherited from some foreign relative he never met. He even liked how close the place was to the city’s few highlights.

The aquarium was less than thirty minutes from their place and just next door to it was the best snow cone place this side of the Mississippi!

…Not that Sunny is exactly a snow cone expert or anything. Or that he even knows if he’s using that expression correctly (Geography is not his strong suit).

The point here is that whilst his home was uncomfortable it was at least familiar.

Not like where they’re moving to. This strange little town in a strange little state. His parents say it’ll be a fresh start. Mari says it’ll be an adventure. But Sunny doesn’t want to go on an adventure. He just wants to go home. He wants to lie in his comfy bed and stare at the ceiling stars his Mom won in a workplace raffle. He wants to go to the park and play in the sand pit with his sister. Heck! Right now, he’d even prefer going back to school! Sure, he didn’t have many—or really any friends, but his grades were good enough.

…Never as good as Mari’s though.

“Sunny?!”

Speaking of whom.

He can barely hear his sister’s worried cries over the screeching of the train’s wheels. It’s so much louder than he ever thought it would be. Metal grinding against metal—grinding against his very soul. He clutches his head harder, but the sound persists. Through teary eyes he watches the steel monolith march onwards, a grey blur speeding across the horizon.

He wants it to stop. He wants to go home. He wants to go back to the city. He doesn’t want to go to—

Suddenly his vision is shrouded by raven black hair. A warm presence holds him tight. He does not return the gesture, his hands remain firmly clasped over his ears, but he certainly doesn’t reject the embrace either. After what feels like an eternity the noise finally fades into the background, the train’s shrieks growing more and more distant.

Eventually, Sunny removes his hands from his head and promptly wraps his arms around his sister. He knows it’s her without even needing to open his eyes.

“Oh, Sunny,” Mari coos, rubbing his back as he clutches onto her waist. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“…Loud,” he mumbles into her shoulder. “Too loud… I want to go home.”

Mari pauses. Stiffening in his embrace. “…Me too,” she confesses.

It’s at moments like this that Sunny remembers his sister is only a few years older than himself.

“I don’t want to go to Faraway,” she admits. “But as long as you’re around,” she smiles softly. “It won’t be so bad.” Sunny tightens his embrace. He believes her, but he’s still scared.

For just like that train, there’s only one way forward for them.

The flickering light above finally dies, plunging the train carriage into a deep darkness.

Shadowy figures sit watching, piercing white eyes peering over the newspapers covering their faces.

At the end of the carriage, a single, wide, bulging eye glares through the murk, staring the group down. Stepping out of the shadows, the twisted, deerlike entity begins its slow approach. Ill-intent made clear with its every step.

His friends are terrified. Omori feels a tug in the back of his mind—the Dreamer isn’t happy with where this is going.

He almost curses. This early on, and things are already going awry. His grip tightens on his knife as the beast lumbers closer, its horrible moans drowning out the rattle of the train.

What little light seeps through the windows does nothing to ease the suffocating dark. In the faint shadows they cast, the unmistakable silhouettes of nooses sway freely back and forth.

The creature roars as it prepares to strike. Omori raises his weapon in response.

“Sunny…” it slurs, voice garbled and barely coherent. “…I love you.”

Of course. How could he forget?

The Dreamer hates moving.

Orange Oasis is one of the oldest parts of Headspace.

Once, it was a reoccurring childhood dream, a reflection his creator’s… turbulent time in his home state. Like the rest of Headspace this land was once one of several smaller worlds, each accessible to the fledgling Dreamer through the many doors of what is now known as White Space.

Alas as Omori first took form, those scattered dreams were compiled into a single, unified Headspace: a bright, beaming distraction—a heavy landmass designed to quite literally cover up the growing threat of Black Space. Burying that realm of sin and regret in deepest depths of the Dreamer’s subconscious.

And yet, Orange Oasis remained an anomaly. More isolated than the other regions and seldom used in most of his scripts.

Which, in the long run, proved to be a blessing in disguise. For this land is his ace in the hole, the trick-up his non-existent sleeve, the perfect shake-up that this story desperately needs.

It is, however, also proving to be wildly unpredictable.

To return to the game analogy for a second: Omori is essentially taking a handful of side quests and upgrading them to main storyline status. Now, in theory, that shouldn’t matter much—Headspace’s ‘plot’ has always been a series of loosely connected distractions anyway. But those same old quests are tried and tested. He knows they work. Case and point: Sweetheart. She’s a well-established antagonist, with connections to nearly every major character in Headspace; she has a large, elaborate castle full of puzzles and enemy encounters, and a satisfying final showdown to wrap things off with. In short, she’s the complete package. Which is why even through Headspace’s countless loops, she’s rarely ever skipped. And also, why Omori is so anxious about the hasty replacement he’s arranged for tonight’s adventure.

The train journey here was the first hiccup. As if facing down one of those shadowy abominations wasn’t bad enough, it soon became clear that the donut grandma had been toasted like the rest of the spectral passengers aboard. That left them without a guide to this strange, sugary land. Which again, shouldn’t matter all that much—Omori knows this place like the back of his hand. But his instinctive jog towards the donut residence clearly broke the Dreamer’s sense of immersion.

He could practically feel their dissatisfaction burning into the back of his skull. Which is annoying, seeing as he knows that aimlessly exploring the eerily empty desert wouldn’t satisfy the Dreamer either.

A lot of this land’s charm comes from its colourful occupants. However, for the sake of the narrative, Omori had most of them ‘removed’ to help sell the oppressive atmosphere he’s going for. That decision, in hindsight, might’ve been yet another mistake.

He can’t shake the low thrum of disinterest reverberating through his very being. It's almost maddening.

Despite everything, Omori is still part of the Dreamer—and he can tell his creator is not entertained.

…At least, not by his story anyway.

What Omori is looking at right now seems to have his attention though. In his hands is a prime example of the aforementioned contradiction at the heart of Headspace—the clash between childhood whimsy and teenage depravity—a rather... interesting photograph.

To put it bluntly: it’s a signed photo of Sweetheart in a bikini. Another reminder that despite her human appearance she is in fact a donut—and an unfortunate source of the Dreamer’s attention too.

Maybe it’s because Omori is an eternal preteen cursed with the thankless task of maintaining a teenager’s fragile psyche, or maybe it’s just bitterness that some cheap fanservice is proving to be more engaging than his new storyline—but for the life of him, he doesn’t get the appeal.

Seriously. Can he put the photo down already???

“Whatcha got there Omori?” Aubrey asks, plopping her head onto his shoulder—about as respectful of personal space as ever—as she tries to peek at the filth he reluctantly holds.

Omori flips the photo around so fast it’s practically a blur. Aubrey pouts at the sight of the blank card back and attempts to reach for it. Omori responds by placing it back in the cabinet he found it in and using his body to block her access.

“Aw, c’mon Omori!” she whines, trying and failing to reach around him, in the process wrapping him in an accidental hug. It’s… a nice comfort, even if unintentional.

Although, once it becomes obvious that the girl has no intention of letting go, he’s forced to gently push her off of him.

“Aw,” she pouts again.

It’s not like Aubrey would care about the contents of this photo—one of her findable weapons is literally a Sweetheart body pillow (again, not his idea). But she might mention it to Mari and…

Well, his sister might be some idealised mimicry of the Dreamer’s own sibling, but if they got one thing right about her it’s her smugness. So, if she got wind about this then she’d be…

Annoying.

It, and this is without a shred of hyperbole, physically hurts him to think that. But even though his very being twists at any unkind thought toward Mari, he still knows it’s true. She’d make teasing remarks about it for the rest of this dream, and probably the next one too—and frankly, Omori doesn’t feel like dealing with that right now.

He has enough on his plate already.

…Unlike Kel, apparently, whose plate is dangerously close to collapsing under the weight of his meal yet continues to grow ever higher.

“Mmm, this stuff is great!” Kel beams, drawing Omori and Aubrey’s attention to energetic boy.

The mountainous stack of bread is comical in size, but Omori is more disturbed than amused by the speed at which Kel devours the baked goods.

“I’m glad you like it dearie!” a donut dressed in a blue gown and glasses replies.

The nearsighted pastry had thankfully allowed them inside after they explained their sister had sent for them. Oddly yet luckily, the donut didn’t question where their sister had gone—whether that mercy came from kindness, senility, or sheer near-blindness is anyone’s guess.

It was a stroke of good luck for them though… or at least, that’s how he hopes it appears. Immersion is key to his stories. Better for everyone that they think it’s convenience than realise he’s the one tugging on their strings.

“Huh? What’s that sonny?” another donut grandma calls, this one slightly rounder than her sisters, with orange glasses, a pearl necklace and puffy white hair.

Omori briefly wonders if all of their accessories are edible or not.

“I said this is great!” Kel repeats, stuffing another piece of bread into his mouth.

It’s probably for the best they aren’t being served donuts here. The ethical implications of that would be… a lot. Then again, they are still eating inside a giant donut owned by smaller sentient donuts, so maybe it’s just best not to think about this place too hard in general.

“What?” the donut calls again.

“I SAID—” Kel goes to yell.

“Kel, please,” Hero groans from his seat opposite. “We’re grateful for the food but could we please—”

“Oh!” the partially deaf donut coos. “Why didn’t you say so sonny! We’re glad to share the gift of our gods with such kindly strangers!”

“Especially fellow donuts!” her sister adds. “Even if they are rather strangely shaped,” she continues, squinting at Hero whilst adjusting her glasses.

Hero blinks slowly. “…Right,” he mumbles, wisely choosing to not correct the grandma, nor address the sudden development of these pastries having a religion.

In dreams past they’ve actually duelled those tired Gods, but that’s not exactly relevant right now.

“Your sister said there’s a sheriff around here who’s been arresting folk,” Hero explains. “We think he might have our friend, do you have any idea where we can find him?”

Omori zones out once again as the two elderly pastries explain what little they know. It’s a long, drawn-out scene, as much filler as the strawberry jelly running through their host’s sugary veins… assuming they’re jelly donuts that is. Sweetheart is, least according to Spaceboy anyway, so surely her relatives would be too. Eh, honestly, Omori just likes the analogy.

And surely enough, the scene before him plays out like clockwork. He doesn’t need to listen; he already knows every beat, every misplaced “what?” before it happens.

The Dreamer hums faintly in amusement at the back of his mind as the conversation continues and Omori feels relief in his response. He wasn’t sure if that bit would land or not.

Their link is a strange one. In some ways, Omori never really changed from the suit of armour he was originally. He’s still a shell of a person, a host for the Dreamer to inhabit. It’s just with his growing consciousness, his creator has rather ironically become something more akin to a voice in the back of his mind.

The best dreams are the ones where his creator is little more than a passive observer. During those adventures, they’re both at peace (or, at least, the closest their damaged psyche can get to that). The Dreamer forgets he isn’t Omori, and Omori almost forgets that he’s not real. The worst dreams are those where his creations are nitpicked beyond any sense of reason—where the Dreamer becomes a backseat driver, constantly changing the direction of his stories in a desperate attempt to feel something new.

That’s how you end up with situations like the aforementioned basketball dream.

Nights like that are few and far between, thankfully. Even this dream is nothing close to that level of intrusion. Sure, the Dreamer is more lucid than he has been in years, but it’s a far cry from those early Headspace adventures, where the line between the two of them was so blurred he still can’t tell who was responsible for what.

At the end of the day, these adventures are still reflections of the Dreamer’s mind—a blend of conscious intent and buried emotion. He and the Dreamer have both shaped this realm, both knowingly and not. So, while Omori proudly calls Headspace his masterpiece, the truth is far messier.

Anyway, the donut lady should be just about finished explaining things now. Hopefully, all the upgraded side quests prove interesting enough for the Dreamer or at least bide him over until the story’s resolution.

“—f you look around I’m sure you’ll find them all!” the pastry concludes, Omori only catching the tail end of her spiel.

“…Why would the Sheriff hide parts of a map on where to find him?” Kel asks, his brows furrowed and an uncharacteristically contemplative look on his face.

Aubrey snorts in response. “Kel you idiot! Obviously, it’s because… because…” she pauses. “Wait, why would he do that?”

‘Because I’m a lazy writer,’ Omori thinks.

Normally, he’d put a bit more effort into the finer details of the plot, but this is all new material he’s working with. He’s tired and overstretched. The finale is going to be his make or break; the rest just has to be passable.

“…Maybe he wants to be found,” Hero suggests.

Uncomfortable silence follows the equally uncomfortable implications of his words.

“Heh, if he wants to be found,” Aubrey starts, cracking her knuckles, a wide and wild smile stretched from cheek to cheek. “Then let’s not keep him waiting!"

The gingerdead man cries in protest as Omori plunges his knife deep into its biscuity chest, crumby flesh and sugary blood staining his form as the creature desperately thrashes beneath him. Cookie claws try and fail to slash his face, losing steam as the monster slowly falters. Eventually, it’s limbs fall slack, those gingerbread appendages crumbling into dust as the creature finally perishes.

Omori dusts himself off as he rises on to his feet. Staring at the frosting-stained knife he briefly considers licking the blade clean before ultimately deciding against it.

There’s no more denying it. He sucks at improv.

Omori had gotten too complacent with his working formula, having to make this new story on the fly… it’s just not working. Orange Oasis was optional for a reason; he sees that now. Upgrading daft side quests like Dino’s Dig or this dreadful maze into mandatory fetch quests for some nonsensical map was nothing short of utter stupidity.

‘Even if Kel and Hector reuniting was rather sweet.’

It certainly doesn’t help that most of this realm’s most interesting characters are still ‘missing’ either. Maybe progressing through the seemingly never-ending levels of Dino’s Dig or the endless corridors of this maze-like cave would’ve been more tolerable had some of the more colourful characters of the Oasis accompanied them.

He’d say this is a valuable lesson learnt, but he doesn’t have time for trial and error. Aubrey is in the Dreamer’s house! He’s already guaranteed to be going back outside tomorrow, so Omori only has two real chances to win him back—and this one has been a disaster so far!

For whatever reason, making side content into mainstays of this dream has doubled their length.

He had wisely decided to get Dino’s Dig out of the way first, but now, returning to this cave by the Donut residence, he’s found himself separated from his companions. As the usually simple maze has been twisted into a haunted labyrinth infested with all kinds of confectionery creatures. He’s been wandering aimlessly for what feels like eternity and only now is the end finally in sight.

Whatever cruel God dictated it so that Omori, a fractured figment of his creator’s psyche—a dream—should have the ability to feel tired should be struck down from the heavens and ripped limb from limb.

Because he feels absolutely exhausted.

Staggering forward down the dark corridor, barely focused on their surroundings but still drawn to the literal light at the end of tunnel, Omori reluctantly puts one heavy foot in front of the other.

He’s messed up, it’s not quite over yet but…

This next bit has to be perfect.

Something about that thought sends a chill up his spine. But the words ring true, he can’t mess this finale up.

His fists clench in frustration as he continues his slow march down the hall. Why? Why did this have to happen now? Why when he was so close to victory? Is this his comeuppance? Is the universe laughing at him for daring to dream he could ever be more than he is? 

…Is the Dreamer just messing with him?

That last possibility seems unlikely but not implausible. Because really, what does his creator think is going to happen next? Sure, he’s gotten lucky so far, feeding off the undeserved pity of their friends—their poisonous nostalgia blinding them to the monster they keep in their company. But when they find out the truth—when he finds out the truth, who else will accept him but Omori?

Omori is the only one who knows the true repulsiveness that lies behind those empty eyes. The only one who truly gets him—countless faults and all. His whole existence revolves around the Dreamer; he hates him with every fibre of his being but also cares for him just as much.

Does he truly think his so called ‘friends’ will ever view him the way Omori does? They like who they think he is—what he reminds them of; those long-gone better days.

When they see the true him… well, it won’t be pretty.

So why even bother? Why try and mend burnt bridges now? After four whole years apart! Why not just wait these three days out? They’ll be moving from this accursed town soon, so why…

Just... why?!

He doesn’t understand it. No matter how hard he tries, he just cannot get it. Did Omori do something wrong? Sure, this dream has been lacklustre, but were all his previous ones too? Is that it?! Is his company—the closest thing that wretch has had to a friend or family for the past few years—not enough for him?!

…Why does he even bother then? Why waste time with all these charades and distractions?!

He should just let the Dreamer face the music! See how quick he comes running back! It’s not like he can hide for long—they’re the same person!

Who else gets him but himself?! No one! That’s who! Even before everything went wrong it was that way!

The quiet kid who’d rather draw than talk—he was lucky to have what he did, and he butchered it! Omori has done his best to substitute that loss and this is the thanks he gets?! He ought to…

He ought to…

Omori pauses. His non-existent blood runs cold at the sight before him.

He’s reached the end of the maze: a small, box-like room with the same sandy floor and loaf-brown walls as the rest of the labyrinth. A few stray strands of wheat poke through the ground, swaying gently in the faint breeze drifting down from above. Light spills in through the exit in the ceiling, illuminating both him and the purple ladder that leads upward.

In the centre of the room, pinned to the wall is an old inspirational poster. It's slightly creased with a faded blue background that compliments the yellow smiley face at its core. Beneath the emoticon is a single quote, written in a slightly darker shade of blue. It reads:

“YOU DID IT!”

Beneath the poster, dirtied by the sugary sand is a forgotten toy. A purple jump rope…

Omori blinks. Then, in less than a second he’s across the room. Tearing the accursed poster down from the wall, he grasps it in his shaky hands. He’s less than a second from ripping it into a thousand tiny pieces when—

“Omori! There you are!” a voice calls out. It’s Aubrey. Of course it’s Aubrey. “I found him guys!” she shouts behind her, before rushing forward towards him.

He remains as still as a statue as she wraps him in a firm hug.

“We thought we’d lost you!” she scolds, pouting as she looks up into his blank face. “You shouldn’t have run off like that!”

“Yeah dude!” Kel adds, him and his brother emerging from the darkness of the hallway. “We looked everywhere for you!” he stops, glancing around the room he’s just entered. “Ha! We found the exit, nice!”

‘We?'

“What you got there Omori?” Hero asks, eyes glued to the poster in his hands.

‘Nothing important,’ he thinks, just about ready to resume his task. That is, until Kel’s eyes suddenly widen and he impulsively grabs the thing from Omori’s clutches.

“Yo! Omori found the second part of the map!” Kel yells, his voice oozing excitement as he turns the poster around to face his friends.

Sure enough, half of a map is scrawled onto the back of it.

“Nicely done Omori,” Hero compliments, chuckling slightly as he looks at the poster’s graphic. “I guess you did it! Hahaha.”

“Yeah, you sure did!” Kel adds with a wide toothy grin.

“Of course he did!” Aubrey swoons, tightening her grip on him.

Omori feels his eye twitch.

The brown sugar sands of Orange Oasis stretch far and wide, dotted with stray wheat stalks and biscuit-shaped buildings. At a glance, the desert seems endless.

But nothing truly is.

Even this dessert desert ceases eventually, and it’s at that end where Omori and his friends have found themselves. They stand at the very outer edge of the Oasis, far from any of the pyramids, houses, or really any features of note.

Out here is nothing but filler—a long stretch of sand that exists merely to sell the illusion of a greater world beyond. Or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Before the group of friends looms a strange structure. A bizarre wooden mass that juts up from the edge of the world, like a splinter in their reality, piercing through the sand and reaching up to the heavens from the endless void below. Now, that in of itself raises a lot of red flags, especially since this is most certainly not where he planned to have the finale take place. No, this area is supposed to be entirely out of bounds, and this odd monolith isn’t supposed to even exist.

Yet when they lined up the two map pieces they found (something that took them an embarrassingly long time because Kel of all people insisted on doing it) the poor sketches did not show a crude depiction of Breaven, the arena he had intended to repurpose for this showdown. Instead, it showed a land beyond the purple mountains, and the strange shard they now stand before.

His immediate assumption was that this was simply another result of Blackspace’s corruptive influence. That realm of trauma and misery may be buried beneath this land, but it has a nasty habit of crawling up through the cracks, infecting the more fragile corners of Headspace like a disgusting parasite. Leaving it’s mark on both characters and locations alike. He’d fought one such abomination on the train earlier; this seemed no different at first. It's poorly sketched silhouette left a lot to the imagination after all.

Though, truthfully, where first saw it on that map a part of him wanted to cut the adventure short right then and there—whatever this intrusion had in store couldn’t possibly be good news. But the Dreamer had seemed intrigued. Indeed, for the first time all night he was truly interested in seeing what happens next. So, against his better judgement they pushed forward. Resting up at Mari’s picnic before travelling to the very edge of their reality.

Of course, it’s evidently clear now that this splinter, this thorn in his world, or whatever it is, is not the spawn of Blackspace. No, it’s something else entirely, something much more foreign.

For a start, its colour is too… real.

There’s no pastel haze to it. No, the dreamy veneer that saturates the rest of Headspace is completely absent from the structure. And unlike the twisted lands of Blackspace, there are no warped, ominously ever-present shadows or vomit-bright technicolour hues. Just… reality, bleeding through.

Omori’s not sure if this discovery makes things better or worse. On one hand, it’s not as overtly threatening as Blackspace. On the other… well, they do say it’s better the devil you know.

If nothing else, it certainly makes for a more interesting backdrop for this finale. Speaking of which…

“Guys!” Kel yells, drawing everyone’s attention. “Look over there!” he calls, finger pointed out towards the wooden shard.

Following his hand they see a shaded figure rocking in an old chair. Behind the figure is a crude entrance to the structure, a singed, jagged hole in the wood’s surface—clearly the result of a rushed excavation. Though, it closer ressembles a demolition job. Having heard Kel’s call, the figure tilts it’s head towards them. A straw stem juts from between their teeth—blindingly white gnashers that form a crude smile as the stranger assesses them with smug silence. Their eyes are hidden beneath the brim of a wide Stetson hat, yet Omori can feel still their glare.

Long, spindly fingers drum rhythmically against the rickety chairs arm, before coming to a sudden halt. With a lazy motion, the figure kicks himself up from their chair, rising to meet them. Their smile never falters as they make their slow approach forward.

“Well, how do ya do kids?” he drawls, eyeing the group like a hungry wolf.

Despite his appearance his voice isn’t the cliché Texan tone you’d typically expect from a character like him. No, in place of that smooth cowboy charisma is more of a… false Southern charm. It sounds friendly enough, but there’s something off about it.

He talks like he’s in on a joke that no one else is.

“Ya’ll sure are a long way from home.” His boots clink with every step he takes, the distinctive jingling of soft spurs filling the otherwise empty air. “Name’s Sheriff Outback,” he greets, taking a bow as he finally steps out from the splinter’s shade. “Pleasure to meet ya’ll, real pleasure, how may I be of service?”

He’s tall, easily towering of the four of them, but he stands unnaturally still—those long, lanky limbs practically begging to move freely, yet remaining confined to a stiff, puppet-like posture. Aside from that though, he looks more or less the same as Omori remembers: pastel skin, like all of Headspace’s ‘humans’ have; a dark brown vest with a shiny, gold, star-shaped badge pinned to it, layered over a light brown shirt with long tassels hanging down from the arms.

His pants and boots are a slightly darker shade of brown, matched by the large Stetson atop his head. His beard is white and whirly, like a cloud of cotton glued to his chin. And that glowing grin of his still shines brightly, although without any of the warmth it once had.

The last time they met, he’d gone by a different name. He’d spoken of things he shouldn’t have known, and Omori couldn’t seem to recall either himself or the Dreamer ever creating him. He couldn’t even think of any inspiration from the real world this cowboy could possibly reflect. He was always an anomaly—a loose end long overdue for tying. Yesterday just gave him the perfect excuse.

For what’s the one thing better than watching a Western with friends? Why, that’s simple.

Being in one.

“Uhm, well, Sir you see, we heard you might have our fri—” Hero begins, caught between admiration and fear.

“GIVE US OUR FRIEND BACK YOU BIG JERK!” Aubrey demands, shoving past Hero and pointing an accusing finger at the Sheriff.

“Yeah!” Kel agrees, taking his spot beside her.

Omori swears the man somehow grins even wider at the display. Those blindingly white enamels betraying a much deeper amusement. Even if Omori rewrote him to be this way, seeing it in person… it’s rather unnerving. Despite being now firmly under his influence, it still feels like the cowboy knows more than he’s letting on.

“I’ve got a lotta folk locked up,” Sheriff Outback replies nonchalantly, the straw slipping from his teeth and fluttering down to the ground below. “Y’all gonna have to be a little more specific.” He crushes the straw beneath his boot, moving his heel like he was snubbing out a cigarette.

“Basil!” Aubrey cries. “We know you have him!”

“That so?” the Sheriff chuckles, scratching his chin in feign confusion. “And pray tell little lady, who exactly told ya’ll that? Why, it wouldn’t happen to be the same pastries that told you fine fellows where you’d conveniently,” he glances at Omori for a split second, and the boy feels his posture stiffen. “Find pieces of a map to my location, would it now? Maps that were hidden in rather dangerous locations I might add.”

The group remains silent.

“Because that would be mighty unfortunate for ya’ll,” he continues, smug satisfaction dripping from his every word. “Seeing as I have their little brat locked up too.”

It’s a bit contrived but it does explain some of the more glaring plot holes with this story. In fact, Omori thinks it works pretty well. Not the greatest twist ever, but it's got some weight to it. Maybe he’s not so bad at improv after all.

“It sure does don’t it, little buddy?” the Sheriff asks, looking directly at Omori.

His body stiffens, as if the air itself has turned solid around him.

‘…What?’

“Did ya’ll really think I lured you here just for the love of the game?”

His grin no longer reaches his eyes.

“Oh, sure, I’m supposed to be arresting folk because I can’t stand the noise of this place, and the racket you youngin’s create is the most deafening of all. That is meant to be my motivation,” he growls.

Omori's friends look confused, they glance at eachother to reaffirm their own bafflement, and occasionally at him, to silently pry for answers that he'll never give... assuming he even has them.

“And in a way, I suppose it still is, but silence gives way to something much worse...”

This is wrong, Omori didn’t write this, well, he did, but the Sheriff isn’t supposed to just announce his motivation, or at least, not in such a direct and self-aware manner.

“In the quiet, the real quiet, you start to hear things you never would normally,” the Sheriff spits, his words half-manic and half-enraged. “For me, it’s a little voice in the back of my mind, a friend if you will; you wanna know what my pal upstairs is saying?”

Omori’s hand flies for his knife.

“He’s saying,” the Sheriff snarls. “That this ain’t right, that ain’t who I am—sounds crazy, right? I thought so… but then I look at you,” he adds, locking eyes with Omori. “You whose scent I most surely recognise, whose face I’ve seen before in memories I ain’t lived.”

This was a mistake. He tried to ensnare one of Headspace’s few free spirits. Even rewritten he still acts out. It’s his nature—he can’t be repurposed. Just put down.

“I’ve met your ilk before son,” the Sheriff states. “My friend says as much,” he taps his forehead again. “You were more colourful than the previous few, yet you made your paradise a prison, then made me do the same. Hope you’re liking the change in scenery by the way,” he laughs.

No. This isn’t a cage; this is a shelter.

For one so wise he knows nothing about the Dreamer.

“Heh, sure, kid,” the Sheriff rolls his eyes. “…You want your friend?” he asks, his question more of a rhetoric—a cruel taunt only Omori understands. “Then let’s have a good ol’ show down! You win, you get what you want… or what you think you want,” he chuckles. “If I win, well… ha! Like that matters…”

They both know he won’t. Omori has no patience for rogue elements. Outback will play his part, even if it’s looser than Omori would like, and then he’ll be dealt with once and for all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aubrey starts, taking another step forward. “But if you think you’re gonna win this then you’re dead wrong! Jerk!”

“HA! Still tryna make this work kid?” he asks, not even bothering to address Aubrey. “For someone so creative you’re awfully narrow minded,” he sighs. “Y’know, it’s a crime to squander such potential, and around here?”

The Sheriff draws a large silver revolver out from his impossibly deep pocket. Omori's eyes widen at the sight.

“I’m the law!”

What will OMORI and friends do?

The group take their places and draw their weapons as the battle commences.

Omori is glad the combat system has at least stayed the same, although he’s still worried about what this cowboy has up their sleeve. The sooner they get through this fight the better. Forget about appeasing the Dreamer with some epic finale, getting rid of this freak and dealing with that splinter is all that matters now.

Although, he must admit the gun is a… intriguing development. Omori had expected to see an orange band around the rim to indicate it as a prop or toy, but… nope. That’s just a straight up revolver.

“I gotta say kiddo,” Sheriff Outback starts, that obnoxious smile still plastered across his pastel cheeks. “There’s an age-old proverb that comes to mind right about now,” he taunts, waving his own weapon whilst glaring at Omori’s.

‘Yeah, but that won’t matter.’

“Probably not…” the Sheriff agrees, once again reading his thoughts.

Gritting his teeth, Omori prepares his attack. It’s JRPG rules, nothing too complex, they go first and he goes next, rinse and repeat. Best to hit him with max damage and be done with this. No point in playing fair. Pulling a cup of coffee out from his inventory, he tosses it to Kel who downs it immediately, his body soon shaking with barely constrained energy. Aubrey then gives Kel a pep talk whilst Hero flings a present over to the Sheriff.

“Kel you’re… not the absolute worst?” Aubrey ‘compliments’.

Kel places a hand on his heart. “That’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he replies, a faint yellow glow now emanating from his form.

KEL BECAME HAPPY.

Sheriff Outback catches the gift Hero threw, examining it with a perplexed look.

“You tryna butter me up son?” he asks, opening the gift. His smile instantly strains, teeth grating as he pulls out a wanted poster of himself. “Not funny kid. Not. Funny.” As he growls, a red hue begins to radiate from his form.

SHERIFF OUTBACK BECAME ANGRY.

“Hey… wait just one second,” he laughs, his colour almostly switching from red to yellow. “I see what yer tryin’ to pull! Very clever kids! But ya’ll are gonna have to try a lot harder than that!”

SHERIFF OUTBACK BECAME HAPPY.

EVERYONE BECAME ANGRY.

Cackling loudly, the Sheriff twirls his revolvers around his finger before suddenly locking into an exaggerated pose and hip firing his entire round. The storm of bullets hitting the group with shocking force.

‘Damn it!’ he mentally curses as bullet grazes his ear.

Fine! Screw strategy, they’ll just dogpile him! Omori gives Aubrey a look and the two sprint forward to attack. The two brothers hold back, waiting for their turn to attack.

Omori slashes outward with his knife, relishing in the brief wince that crosses Outback’s face as the blade slices against his chest. Whilst Aubrey kicks the man in his shin, causing him to stagger down to her level where he’s soon meet with a solid headbutt. His eyes roll in their sockets comically, like the reels of a slot machine.

Behind them, Kel rushes forward with his brother just barely keeping pace. Dribbling his basketball, he passes it to Hero, who then goes long with the shot, just barely managing to pass it back to his brother who lands a slam dunk on the Sheriff, bouncing his head off the sugary sand and further disorienting them.

“You little—” he growls, only to be cut short by Hero slamming his frying pan into his face. “ARGH!” he cries, falling backwards as the group retreats back into position.

That was better. They’re not doing as much damage as they need to, seeing as anger is weak against happiness. But it’s a good enough start.

Like a puppet on strings, the Sheriff rises unnaturally back onto his feet, not even using arms to push himself up, just rising stiffly like some creature of the night. Still smirking, the man quickly reloads his revolver, clicking the hammer into place before then, in the blink of an eye, hitting several stupid poses, seemingly teleporting from one stance to the next, and firing off his gun with each one.

Each round hits their mark. One slams into Omori’s shoulder, sending a searing pain throughout his body. Another hits Aubrey, her face twisting in pain as the damage takes a good chunk off her health. The rest hit Hero.

“Oh…” his friend mumbles, falling to his knees before then fully collapsing to ground. His body instantly disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving only a single piece of toast in its stead.

“Bro!” Kel cries, his face souring as his red glow begins to burn brighter.

KEL BECAME ENRAGED.

“Sorry kid,” the Sheriff apologises insincerely. “This town ain’t big enough for the five of us… actually, I lie, it toally is, I just don’t like ya’ll!”

SHERIFF OUTBACK BECAME ESTATIC.

Ok. This is bad. Omori needs to switch-up the emotions quickly or the Sheriff is going to team wipe them in two turns. Reaching into his endless pockets he retrieves his poetry book which he reads a passage from then immediately passes to Aubrey.

“Huh? For me?!” Aubrey asks, her scowl briefly fading as she takes the book in her hands. “Thank you, Omori! I…” she pauses, taking a second to actually read the book. “Oh…” she frowns, a blue aura now radiating from her.

OMORI BECAME SAD.

AUBREY BECAME SAD.

To end their turn, Kel rushes the Sheriff, bouncing his ball all over the place, his fury carried through each of his blows. Yet the Sheriff barely winces as the ball rebounds against his body, that sinister grin left completely undeterred by their efforts.

That is, until Kel knocks the revolver out his hand.

“Ha! How’s that prick!” Kel spits.

“Nuisance,” Sheriff Outback scowls, his smirk fading for only a second as he reaches into his pocket.

Omori watches his friend’s face pale as the cowboy slowly pulls out a massive double-barrelled shotgun. Kel barely has time to open his mouth in shock before the barrel is against his temple and—

*BANG*

A deafeningly loud sound fills the air as Kel’s body goes flying backwards, instantly exploding into a cloud of smoke where it lands a few feet away. A single battered looking piece of toast lying the crater his impact formed.

“HAHAHA!” the Sheriff chortles. “Ya’ll are making this too easy!”

SHERIFF OUTBACK BECAME MANIC.

‘Laugh while you can.’

The Sheriff almost resembles a walking lamp now. Bright yellow light radiates from every inch of his body, the sickly hue making him looking grainy and washed out. Like a photo put through too many filters. Undeterred, Omori runs towards them, once again followed in toe by Aubrey. He’ll stab them then have Aubrey follow him up with an attack of her own. It won’t take him down, but it’ll get some solid damage done with their newfound sadness. They’ll take whatever he throws their way and then he’ll revive—

Mere inches away from the target, Omori freezes, his eyes widening as the Sheriff raises his gun again. He’s broken turn order. Of course he has. Honestly, Omori should’ve anticipated this.

He hears another deafening bang. His vision darkens and static fills his ears.

Omori did not succumb.

Blinking rapidly, he rolls onto his side where his bleary eyes spy Aubrey dangling from the back of the Sheriff, her bat pressed against his throat, locking him in a chokehold. It’s almost humorous, the skeletal figure of the Sheriff desperately trying to shake her off whilst she continues to strangle him. Omori struggles back onto his feet, just in time to see the Sheriff simply give up and fall backwards. A puff of smoke exploding from beneath him as he smashes against the sand.

Clever move, he must admit.

“Oh, kiddo, you didn’t seriously think I’d waste two shells on that yappy puppet, did you?” the Sheriff groans, slowly rising once again. “Rich coming from me I suppose,” he half snorts half sighs as he discards his empty shotgun to the floor.

His knife lies on the sand ahead of him. Only issue is, it’s another sprint away. And a mad gunman is stood in his way.

“It’s a tragedy, really, this whole place I mean,” the man laments. “The kind of people who wind up here—who get lost in their own heads—they ain’t usually the type who stick around long… least, that’s what my friend reckons.”

Omori clenches his fists. He can make it.

“But then there’s you, or the one who’s hiding behind you,” the Sheriff continues. “Word is, he’s been around a lot longer than most,” he laughs again. “Suppose we’re both overdue in that regard. So, from one mask to another, the masquerade is over kiddo. It’s time to face the music.”

Omori getting real sick of all of this monologuing.

“You wrote me like this.”

And he’ll correct that error.

“Heh, I’m sure you will.”

As the Sheriff retrieves yet another revolver from seemingly out of nowhere, Omori makes a mad dash towards the imposing figure. He hears the slam of its hammer, followed by several loud gunshots as the man hip fires wildly in his direction. Keeping his head low, Omori continues his dash, ducking and weaving between the shots. One catches his knee, tripping him up and sending him rolling. Thankfully, the Sheriff still needs to reload, so, using that brief grace period, Omori casts vertigo, summoning a swarm of shadowy hands to disorient his foe.

“What the—get off me ya foul demon spawn!”

With the Sheriff distracted, Omori resumes his sprint, successfully making it past the man, where his knife lies mere inches away. He reaches down to grab it when—

A sudden tightness around his throat brings him to a screaming halt. His hands instantly reach up to his neck, his body acting purely on instinct. Pain reverberates through his form, as his fingers desperately claw at the rope wrapped around his throat. He can’t breathe. He can’t…

“Oh, come on! Kid, you’re really lettin’ me down here! I’m a cowboy—did you think I wouldn’t have a lasso?!”

His opponent’s taunting falls on deaf ears. Omori can barely even focus on what’s before him. It feels like he’s drowning—of course, he can’t truly die but it still hurts like you wouldn’t believe. Worse yet, he feels the Dreamer’s own panic start to ooze into him. A buried memory slowly resurfacing no matter how hard Omori tries to keep it down. He just needs to—

The rope tightens. The world ripples.

Sunny falls to his knees, tears swelling in his eyes, the jump rope wrapped around his neck choking his breath. His oxygen-deprived brain desperately struggles to process what’s happening.

He’s not in the desert anymore. He's not—

He shouldn’t be here. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

The sky is blood red. The grass, a dead grey. A shadow of a tree stretches before him. He can feel its presence looming behind him—and something much worse too. A burning gaze, coming from the thing hanging from the lowest branch. The silhouette that stares at him wherever he goes.

Something behind him.

He squeezes his eyes shut. His head throbs. The world quakes around him. He opens his eyes and—

Omori tears the loop of the lasso apart with his bare hands, freeing himself from it’s grasp. Falling to his knees he quickly spins around and glares up at his opponent. His hands shaking with burning rage. Without even taking a second to breathe, he grabs his knife and charges at Sheriff Outback. The man’s eyes widen; he reaches for his gun and aims it just as Omori goes to slash him.

*BANG*

They both stand there. Barely inches apart.

For a solid thirty seconds neither utters a word. Then the Sheriff starts to shake uncontrollably. At first, Omori believes himself victorious, especially after noticing the bullet hole by his feet. But then, as the Sheriff’s smile goes from sinister to friendly, and he spies faint, silky string floating freely in the air above them, it becomes abundantly clear that they both missed their target.

“Well, haven’t you been a mischievous little whippersnapper!” Mr. Outback chortles, slouching as he immediately starts to dance back and forth. Any intimidation he had vanishes in a flash. “Don’t ya know it’s rude to ensnare old geezers like me? Why, in my thirty-three thousand years of life I’ve never—”

Omori stabs him.

Then twists he the knife, just to be sure.

The cowboy blinks slowly, his smile still present, but left a strained shell of its former glory. Omori sees his eye twitch slightly, before the man suddenly and violently coughs, covering the boy’s black vest with sand. Not the sugary ‘sand’ of the Oasis, no, actual genuine sand.

'Gross.'

“…Kids these days,” Mr. Outback coughs again, his voice already noticeably hoarser. “No respect for their elders ha… ha…”

Omori’s eyes shift towards the monolith behind the old geezer. The silent question read with ease. Although how exactly, he keeps doing that is beyond him.

“Eh? That thing? Ha! Kill a man then question em! You’ve got your priorities out of whack mister! Sadly, even a fossil like me has gaps in their knowledge,” the old man states. “As for how I’m readin’ ya mind? Well, that’s simple! I ain’t! You’re just not as hard to read to as ya think! I’ve been around a while; I’ve got a sixth sense for this kinda stuff!”

Great, so this is something beyond even one of Headspace’s most knowledgeable creatures. No matter, he’s quite done with this adventure, time to wrap this up. He’s still got life jam—his friends will be fine. They can explore the prison and he can get to the heart of this ligneous mystery.

“Guess that’s all she wrote huh?” Mr. Outback sighs. “Normally, I’d say see ya next time sonny,” he laments, and Omori stiffens at his choice of expression. “But I don’t think I will actually.”

Monochrome hands tighten their grip on the blade in his chest.

“Hold on one second, ‘fore ya do what ya gotta, I’ve got some parting words of wisdom for you.”

…He’s listening.

“Look, kiddo, if you keep tryna cup the ocean in your hands, things are gonna start leaking out. And pardner…” he stares Omori dead in the eyes, and suddenly the line between Mr. and Sheriff seems a lot more blurred. “You’re lookin’ awfully wet.”

Omori pulls the knife free. A sound akin to cracking ice fills the air. Then all goes quiet. The air still—silent, bar the sound of windblown sand.

A boy and a peculiar statue of an old geezer stand before a large wooden obelisk. Nothing else remains.

The boy’s fists clench.

‘Let’s just get this over with…’

Impromptu prison cells line the walls of the burnt cavern.

The singed wood that makes up the tunnel is sharp and uneven—clearly the work of dynamite. Omori supposes he should be grateful the Sheriff ran out before their fight began. However, he’s struggling to feel anything bar exhaustion right now. Although he does pity his friends—sentient or not, having to walk barefoot on this terrain (not that his socks offer much more protection) is a fate he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy... although, the Dreamer does come to mind as possible exception to that.

The hallway, if you can truly call it that is lit by a series of dim lamps crudely hammered into the ceiling above. A fire hazard if Omori’s ever seen one, but he doubts the Sheriff cared very much for the wellbeing of his prisoners. Speaking of which, each cell is just another smaller crater 'carved' into this bizarre structure. The bars are identical to those of Sweetheart’s dungeon—bars that should’ve been assembled in Breaven...

Whatever. If he wastes time getting annoyed about everything that’s gone off script tonight, he’ll be stuck in that mood for the rest of this dream. Frankly, he just wants to be done with this. He’s sure the Dreamer does too.

His friends rush to each cell, using the keys they retrieved from Mr. Outback’s… corpse? Statue? Whatever. They all go about opening the cells as Omori walks by, each trying and failing to hide their disappointment when the face they find isn’t the one they’re looking for.

Of course, Basil isn’t here. He was never meant to be. He wasn’t even meant to be in this adventure’s intended prison.

“It was terrible, truly terrible! My castle, my beautiful castle brought to ruin by a sudden earthquake!” Sweetheart cries, her hands reaching through the bars of her cell and wrapping tightly around Hero’s arms. “I came to my family for shelter, and that filthy sheriff arrested me! Me! Can you believe that?!”

Funny—he doesn’t recall writing that detail. Then again, he didn't write her being here either. So he probably shouldn't fixate on that detail too much. But her castle being gone? Just like that? And from an earthquake too…

Considering what lies beneath that land, Omori can’t help but feel slightly concerned. But his exhaustion soon outweighs any worries he has. Besides, he’s literally standing in the middle of a much more pressing issue.

“But then you! You came for me~” Sweetheart coos. “Tell me! What is your name?”

Hero fixes Omori with a look that screams: ‘can we keep this one locked up, please?'

A look that is ignored as the monochrome boy continues his stroll forward.

“Uhhh… Hero, ma’am,” the teen in question hesitantly answers.

“Yes! Hero! My Hero~”

Leaving his friend to an unfortunate fate (talking to Sweetheart), he next wanders past Kel, who’s unlocking the cell of the Unbread Twins. Although, the two baker gods don’t seem overly relieved about their rescue.

“Thank you, young one,” Doughie says, stepping out into the hall, her dark hair and bronze skin faintly illuminated by the lights above. “Alas, our break is concluded. We return to our endless cycle of bread. Fresh bread…” she sighs.

“Ohooooooooo…” her brother, Biscuit groans.

“Uh, or you could not?” Kel suggests.

“But what meaning do our lives have if we do not spend it baking bread?” she asks. “What else could we do?”

“…Literally anything else?” the young boy replies, his bafflement profoundly apparent.

“Fascinating…”

Each subsequent cell contains another yet colourful character. Most are residents of Orange Oasis—the imprisoned neighbours the donuts spoke of earlier, construction workers, Dino’s Dig staff, along with various other sentient pastries and food items. But some are residents of other parts of Headspace. A couple of Gator Guys and a few unlucky Sprout Moles occupy the lattermost cells.

It’s there that Omori finds Aubrey.

“Oh, Omori,” she sighs. “There’s no sign of Basil yet, and there are only a few cells left. Do you think the donuts lied?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Maybe he’s at the end?” Aubrey suggests, keeping pace with him as they stroll past the last few cells. “Basil?!” she calls out.

“Yesh?” a strange voice replies.

Aubrey’s eyes widen as she rushes past Omori. She practically slams into the last cell, her eyes glowing with excitement—only to quickly sour as she sees its prisoner: a small, roundish rock-like creature with pale blue skin and a tall party hat perched atop its head.

“You’re not Basil…” she mumbles.

“Me Babo,” the creature replies, its closed eyes and wide, curvy smile presenting a peaceful appearance.

Omori wonders if it ever occurred to his friends that the first donut they met didn’t exactly have the best hearing.

“Babo like jail time... make Babo grateful for free time...”

A part of the Dreamer’s consciousness pangs with guilt at Aubrey’s solemn face. It cries even louder as Omori walks past her, leaving the teary-eyed girl to slowly go about releasing the strange critter. He ignores it all the same.

No—his focus is on the end of this hallway, where the row of lamps abruptly ceases. It doesn’t stretch on for nearly as long as it looks like it does. The dark is deceptive that way.

It does get narrower, however, the rough terrain growing more uneven as he transitions from the Sheriff’s lousy excavation into a natural passageway descending deep into the structure. It never gets so cramped as to be claustrophobic, thankfully, but it certainly grows tighter.

Eventually, he sees a light. After a bit more walking, he spies a gap in the wood. Squeezing through it, he emerges into something he never thought he’d see again: the home of the Dreamer’s memories.

The Lost Library.

Although that name doesn’t seem fitting for the place in which he stands. This library is pristine, without a cobweb in sight. Warm, natural light pours in through windows that were never present in the archive he knew. The bookcases stand tall—far taller and far fuller than when he saw them last.

Indeed, last time he was here, he was sinking the structure beneath the woods of Pyrefly Forest. A task that was more of a mercy killing than anything else. Even before he’d gone about repressing the Dreamer’s memories, the library was in a state of disarray. Mari’s… passing, had struck the place like an earthquake. Books were scattered everywhere—many damaged beyond repair, or altered, tainted, turned bitter by trauma.

Is it any wonder the Dreamer allowed that place to be forgotten so easily?

“You’ve gotten awfully lost,” a voice calls out.

Omori turns around in an instant, blade raised accusingly at the figure before him.

“Put that down,” Stranger sighs. “I’m not responsible for this.”

In the light of this uncanny library, Stranger’s existence as a shadowy copy of Basil is made more obvious than ever. His usual darkness has been peeled away, leaving a simple grey caricature of his friend, whose once-piercing white eyes are now just blank and bored.

This nuisance has long been a pain in Omori’s side. Always lurking, always luring, always waiting for the Dreamer to follow—to lead him astray and undermine Omori’s efforts. He figured them meeting tonight would be inevitable. This just… wasn’t quite how he expected it to play out.

Omori lowers his weapon slightly, uncertain of Stranger’s intent. He doesn’t seem openly hostile right now, but then again, he rarely does. Fixing the shadowy figure with a questioning look, he silently demands an explanation.

“If you’re wondering what’s going on,” Stranger murmurs, motioning lazily to the shelves surrounding them. “Maybe try picking up a book,” he suggests. “That is what this place is for.”

Reluctantly following his advice, Omori retrieves one from a nearby shelf. Opening it up, he’s immediately alarmed by the complete lack of his usual censorship, and then, as he reads further, his pale skin begins to crawl.

It’s a memory for sure. Just not one he should have. A recollection of going shopping with Mari, the both of them stuck in an awkward silence left unbreakable by an unspecified event.

Notably and alarmingly, the memory indicates their ages as thirteen and sixteen respectively. It also specifies that the Dreamer is still struggling with his lack of depth perception.

Now, there are already a few glaring issues with that, but Omori is much more alarmed by the intrigue he feels from the Dreamer in the back of his mind. That little… rope incident, had already stirred his creator’s consciousness far too much, but now? Omori can practically feel their head peering over his shoulder.

Almost impulsively, he reaches for another book, quickly discarding the previous one to the floor. It’s another memory, this one is of the Dreamer struggling to pick out an outfit for a date. In which, he clearly takes the time to choose an eyepatch, lamenting the ugly scar it will never fully hide.

Monochrome hands shake uncontrollably as they clutch the book. Gripping it so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t tear. Eventually, Omori calms himself enough to drop it to the ground where it lands flat against the wooden floor. The loud thud echoing throughout the library.

With the Dreamer’s enthusiastic support, Omori goes to grab another book, though, the two of them have very different reasons for their intrigue, and even more polarising reactions to the book’s contents.

The picture these memories paint is bizarre and nonsensical, yet they feel… right.

He grabs another, reads it, then instantly moves on to the next. They speak of a different life, of four years not spent in self-induced isolation, but spent with his friends and family.

Omori reads about said friends, about how they look at him with respect and care. He reads about Aubrey—about how she looks at him like he’s the only star in the sky. He reads about the people of Faraway, about his peers at school and how they look at him with disgust or pity—the latter apparently the more offensive of the two. Lastly, he reads about his sister, how she looks at him like he’d shatter from her touch alone, and how he hates that she’s not entirely wrong for thinking that.

It’s all nonsensical. These aren’t memories he’s suppressed finally resurfacing—he knows what that feels like. No, these… these aren’t memories at all. They’re fabrications. They must be! None of this ever happened!

And yet… they feel familiar. Like echoes of a life, he never lived.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Stranger says softly. “Memories of things that never happened… feelings that don’t belong to you… But they fit, don’t they? They feel right,” he continues, echoing Omori’s own thoughts.

Looking up from the page he’s reading, his jaw tightens as Stranger continues.

“Almost like they could have been yours. In another life… in another time…”

Omori’s eyes widen. If Stranger has come to the same conclusion, then…

“You understand now?” Stranger murmurs. “I waited for you in the library we know. And when you didn’t come…” He lets out a breath—half sigh, half laugh. “Well. Someone else did.”

His tone drops to a whisper.

“Tell me, Dreamer—who do you think it was? And how much do you think he saw?”

Omori freezes. The weight of the shadow’s words suddenly dawning on him. He needs to shut this down. Now.