Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hardest part was over.

That being, of course, Sunny’s long overdue confession to his friends about how Mari had actually died.

It had been difficult, to get to that point. He’d needed to seek out the many cracks in the imagined world he’d created, to weave together every loose thread. He’d needed to confront his own past, to force himself to remember what he’d done. And then he’d had to force himself to tell the others.

But that was done, now.

He’d already told them everything.

He’d told them about the growing tension between the two dark-haired siblings.

About the blisters that had once lined his hands.

About how he’d finally snapped, how his violin had followed suit.

How Mari had followed suit.

How Basil couldn’t make sense of the situation, blaming it on Something that didn’t exist.

How, in one terrified instant, the blonde-haired boy did all he could to save the one who he cared for most.

How Sunny had been too numb to resist.

How, for the next four years, he retreated into himself, repressing what he’d done and living amid colorful delusions.

How he was sorry

                               and how he knew being sorry would never be enough.

He’d already done it, already faced his friends’ scorn, their disbelief. He’d already spoken to Basil, telling him the lie was over at last and that maybe, just maybe, everything really would be okay.

Because the worst of it was behind them now.

It was time to heal.

It was time to rest.

Sunny closed his remaining eye and drifted off to sleep.

It was a pleasant sleep, the first dreamless one he’d had in the last four years.

No more running. No more hiding. No more WHITE SPACE.

Just a merciful blackness covering him from head to toe like an old blanket he thought he’d outgrown.

He reveled in it for a while, relishing in the luxury he hadn’t quite realized he’d lost.

But he still had to wake up eventually; of course he did. No matter what happened, the days of blocking out the world with his bed were over.

After what felt like forever, Sunny opened his eyes at last.

...

Then he promptly shut them, because, well, this couldn’t be right. No, it was just a fatigue-induced hallucination, a shard of memory pulled to the forefront of his mind by a buzzing painkiller.

It’d be gone the next time he opened his eyes.

...

It was not gone the next time he opened his eyes.

Why wasn’t it going away?

He shut his eyes tightly, focusing on the internal hum of his thoughts, on the subtle beating of his heart.

When I open my eyes, I will be in the hospital, Sunny told himself, taking a long, relaxing breath. I will be in the hospital and not in my bed in my room. When I open my eyes, I will wake up.

Sunny opened his eyes.

. . .

He frowned.

Whether it made sense or not, he was most certainly back in his own room. The room that, the last time he’d been there, was near picked bare, its contents stuffed into the myriad of cardboard boxes that littered the house he’d seen so much of these last four years. This no longer seemed to be the case, however; there was that chair he’d sat in for so many hours playing that digital card game, there was that well-used cork board covered in calendars and reminders and photos, there was that rickety old clothes rack by the door.

Sunny was also distinctly aware of his ability to once again see out of his right eye. Quite clearly, in fact.

Was this another dream? Another strange vision like the one he’d had after his fight with Basil? It didn’t... feel like it. Everything had been bathed in a nostalgic golden hue then, but there was nothing of that sort now. Everything seemed... mundane. Normal.

Putting all this together, his mind began to feverishly construct the narrative of what, then, must be going on. He had been out for some time, enough that his eye had fully healed. Truth be told, he hadn’t exactly thought it would, so he supposed that was a pleasant surprise of some sort. The fact he was in his own room, and all his things had been unpacked, likely meant that the house sale had fallen through during his unconsciousness and his mother had been forced to stay in town after all. Now, why had he been in his bed? Well, he obviously must’ve been close to recovery, close enough that the hospital had allowed his dear mother to take her baby back home. He could see it so clearly: his mother’s face, creased with practiced worry, as she asked the hospital if they could please let her darling son out so that when he wakes at last it will be in a place he loves.

It was a good story, all things considered, and Sunny was fairly proud of it.

He might’ve even believed it, too, if not for Mari’s bed.

Sunny felt a lump rise in his throat as he stared at the other bed’s purple sheets. They were lying there so innocently, like they weren’t breaking a thousand unspoken rules.

Rule one: Dead people did not have designated beds.

...But who says the bed had been for Mari? Maybe someone else had been using it to... keep an eye on him. Yes, yes, that made sense, he thought, nodding a bit too eagerly. It had been his mother, probably. She’d been instructed by the hospital to watch him carefully, to notify them if anything that seemed bad happened. And of course she’d want to be there for her poor, injured son, so sleeping nearby certainly made sense. Her own bed was far too big to move, so she’d made do with an old one that no longer saw use.

Yes, this was exactly what had happened. He was sure of it now, so sure that he felt silly about ever having doubt.

Or maybe one of his friends had been using it, friends who had perhaps decided after everything that they had forgiven him. He pictured Aubrey lying on the other bed, watching him rest. Her face, usually so full of vibrance and joy, was overcome with a subdued anxiety. Her long black hair—no, wait, it was pink now—was frizzy and unkempt, a testament to how much she’d been worried about her friend.

She leaned over, whispering softly.

“Sunny... Please wake up, I-”

Sunny snapped himself out of what he knew were mere delusions. He’d had more than enough of daydreaming for a while. It was time to live in reality.

He looked around the room again, running through the story in his mind, and felt satisfied. Everything made sense to him now. He rather liked it when things made sense, he thought.

His mind in a slightly lighter headspace, he opened the door and exited his room. What he saw confirmed his suspicions—the boxes were all gone, the old photos and tacky glass vases were back to lining the walls... yup, it definitely seemed like he and his mom weren’t moving anytime soon.

He suppressed his mixed feelings about this and entered the bathroom.

Sunny had rather grown to dislike mirrors over the last four years. At best, they reflected a face he did not wish to see, and at worst...

No, he told himself sternly, trying and failing to block out the images of all the things that had once tormented him. That’s over now.

As if to prove it to himself, he gave himself a long, hard look in the reflective glass.

Sunny certainly thought he looked healthier than the boy that had stared back at him in the hospital. He was less thin and had more color about him, which was good, probably. He softly traced a finger around his right eye, feeling the warm, smooth skin. Not even a trace of scar tissue. That was... lucky, he supposed. It still seemed a little surprising to him that it had all healed so perfectly. He must’ve misjudged how badly Basil had actually hit him in that moment, but he could believe that.

After all, it wasn’t like either of them had been thinking too clearly.

Maybe he could ask his only friend about it when he saw him. Yes, that would go over well. Hey Basil, when you attacked me with your garden shears, did you REALLY only just nick my eye, or has medicine progressed more than I thought while I was gone?

He watched the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly at the absurdity of the idea before turning his attention to his outfit. Rather than the radiant, blinding hospital gown, he instead found himself wearing... pink bunny pajamas.

...Huh.

Ridiculous as that was, they were cute, he grudgingly admitted. Even if they looked like something pulled straight from a twelve-year old Aubrey’s wardrobe.

Ignoring the pang in his heart from remembering that name, he gave the bunnies one last glance before turning around and leaving the room. For the first time in... some time, he actually felt truly hungry. He carefully (very carefully) climbed down the stairs, hoping that his mother had actually stocked up on food while he was gone.

...Yup, the living room was back to normal, too. Couch, TV, fake plants, all of it was back in order. Sunny couldn’t help but notice just how nicely everything had been put in place. It was anything but a rush job, that much was clear.

He also couldn’t help but notice the newly-reinstated family portrait.

Sunny stared at it, mind uncomprehending.

Why had his mother taken it out of storage...?

His eyes focused on his father’s smiling face.

On M̵̢̖̼̝̞̗͒̔̐̈́̔͑̀a̵̬̼̣͐́̔̇̑̕ŗ̶̝̖̹͇̺̻͋͐̏͆̈́͝í̸̫̹͖̔’s.

The world slowed around him.

Darkness crept into the corners of his vision.

His lungs fought to breathe.

“It’s not as scary as you think.”

The familiar words ignited something in him, something primal.

Sunny screwed his eyes shut... and CALMED DOWN.

. . .

Maybe... maybe his mother was finally trying to move forward. To make peace with the past.

And if she could do it... then he would, too.

Pointedly refusing to look at the portrait (just because he wanted to move forward didn’t mean it wasn’t going to take time), he surveyed the rest of the room again, giving it a closer look. The house really felt... lived in. The TV remote was slightly askew atop its designated stool, an actual hat adorned the door’s coat rack, and a few books were haphazardly strewn on the couch. Someone was definitely living here.

He wondered if it was just a temporary arrangement. If his mom had only been staying in the house so much because of his condition, and now that he’d recovered, she’d spirit herself off to wherever her workplace even was, reduced to nothing more than the odd voicemail here and there. That was the way it had been for so long now, after all.

Or maybe his mother had actually been around a fair amount these last four years, and it was only recently that she’d started to drift away? It was hard to tell. His memories of what had actually happened outside of his room during that whole period of time were fuzzy, unreliable, and few and far between.

Was he... angry at her, he wondered? For abandoning him when he was at his lowest, for not bothering to even make sure he had proper food or working appliances to store and prepare it?

No, he realized. No, because he couldn’t blame her, could he? It wasn’t like he remotely deserved that much. Not from her, and not from anybody.

His stomach rumbled.

Well, hopefully there’s something available this time, at least, he thought idly. Because I’m going to eat the plants at this rate.

He marched himself into the kitchen, head held high.

Okay, if there wasn’t any food in here, things were going to get mess—oh, a note.

He picked up the scrap of paper lying on the counter, reading the words scrawled in his mother’s loopy script.

Hey Sunny, it's Mommy.

How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?

The family’s out shopping, but we should be back soon!

Don’t be afraid to help yourself to something in the fridge in the meantime.

Feel better soon, honey! Mommy loves you!

Sunny frowned. First he’d had to put up with her calling herself “Mommy”, but now she was “the family”, too? Something about that didn’t strike him as healthy. Maybe his mom wasn’t as mentally sound as he’d thought.

Not that he was one to talk, but. He was trying his best.

He gingerly opened the fridge, not sure what to expect.

Oh.

Food.

Nice.

Now, what to ea-

Knock knock knock

Sunny froze.

He knew that sound.

Bad things came from it.

For a few moments, he was rooted to the spot, his mind filled with disfigured, disturbing images, with gaping mouths and hollow eyes and

NO.

Those days were over.

. . .

It was beginning to scare him, how easily he seemed to spiral. It was beginning to scare him how all it took was one small thing to set him off for his thoughts to rear up sharply and drag him into the abyss. He supposed it made enough sense. He hadn’t quite been lucid, this lucid, for a long, long time. He’d probably need to get help of some kind; therapy, medication, whatever else they prescribed for the old “World-Ending Guilt And Hallucinations From An Unspeakable, Irreversible Action-itis”.

Knock knock knock

...But there he went again, losing himself in his train of thought instead of paying attention to the world around him.

He shuffled out of the kitchen, over to the house’s front door. The door that, for four long years, he’d ignored more times than he could count.

Knock knock knock

“Sunny?” a voice called. “Sorry to bother you, honey, but it looks like Mommy locked herself out of the house again. Would you be a dear and let us in?”

Sunny winced at her usage of “us”. It was his fault, after all. All the stress and worry and bills and broken family that had gotten to her head at last... it never would’ve gotten this bad if not for him. Heck, it never would’ve even started if not for him.

Yet another reminder that all he ever did was hurt those who tried to love him.

Yet another reminder that he should just d

He shook his head, frowning. No, no, he wasn't allowed to think things like that anymore. Not after his talk with Basil in the hospital.

And, well, his mother probably wasn’t a lost cause, right? When she brought him to therapy (which, surely, she would... right?), he could tell them all about her strange, unusual habits. Maybe they could fix her, too.

Knock knock knock

But that would come later. Right now, he had a door to answer.

He twisted the lock and pulled it open.

“Sunny! ” his mother greeted him warmly, pulling him into a strong embrace. For a moment, she said nothing, holding him tightly. “Oh, it’s so good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

The dark-haired boy considered this.

How was he feeling?

In what sense?

Physically, he was better, sure. His eye had healed, he seemed much less pale and thin (maybe he’d been on an IV or something?), and he was actually starting to feel regular amounts of hunger, like a normal person. (Though he was anything but a normal person.)

Emotionally and mentally, well...

He’d only just remembered that Mari hadn’t gone away to college.

That she was gone because she was dead.

That she was dead not because she’d killed herself, but because he, in a fit of stupid, worthless rage, had done that for her.

Mari, who he’d loved so much. Mari, who’d loved him so much.

Dead by his own hands.

And then, without even having the chance for it all to settle, he’d forced himself to confront the only people left in the entire world that could ever truly care about him and tell them what he, too, had just learned, permanently closing the door to rekindling those old friendships forever.

So... he wasn’t feeling the best, at the moment. But what else was there to do? Waste away the rest of his life in that hollow bed? Let himself finally slip away? That wouldn’t do, not at all. Especially after his talk and subsequent promise with Basil. At the very least, he’d have to keep holding on, if not just for the blonde boy’s sake.

People always said that things had to get worse before they got better. And it... it would get better. He had to believe that. He had to believe that.

“Feeling... better,” he finally replied after a too-long pause.

His mother didn’t seem bothered by it. She smiled, releasing him from the hug. “That’s great! I don’t see any signs of fever, so I think you’re good to go.”

...Fever?

No, no, that made sense. He’d completely over-exerted himself in the three days he’d actually left his house, running all over town and getting into fights and jumping into lakes. Of course his malnourished, tired body would get sick. Of course it would.

“How’s Basil?” he asked. From what he’d been able to tell, the other boy had fared much better in their little skirmish. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of anything sharp, so he doubted he’d come away from it with anything worse than some nasty scrapes and bruises. Considering he’d healed so well, Basil was probably fine, too, but he still wanted to make sure.

His mother raised an eyebrow. “I knew you two were close, but this is something else... You might want to be careful, or else a certain someone might get jealous~” She laughed at this, patting him on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen him yet today, but I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll be happy to know you’re feeling better!”

Sunny relaxed a little. Basil was okay. That was good. Maybe he’d visit him later, hang out a little bit. He didn’t exactly fancy cooping himself up in his house every day again, especially if he no longer had a colorful dreamworld to occupy his time.

Though, now that he thought about it... if he really was staying in Faraway after all, he was likely going to run into his former friends quite a bit. That was going to be a problem, wasn’t it?

At least him and Basil had parted on good enough terms. So it wasn’t like he’d be completely alone in all of this. And besides, he felt he was done running away from his problems. It might honestly be better to just get it over with, to find out where he stood with everyone.

As if it wasn’t obvious

He paused, his mind finally registering the other part of what his mother had said.

Wait, what? Who would get jeal-

“Alright, enough catching up, you two. A little help here?”

Sunny’s blood froze in his veins.

That voice.

HIS voice.

It... no.

This was wrong.

So, so, so wrong.

---

After falling for what felt like hours, he found himself standing in a dark, black forest. A shadowy figure stood in front of him, its attention focused on felling the tree before it.

He silently crept towards the figure, hardly daring to breathe.

“Stay away...” it croaked, not bothering to turn around. “You are not my son...”

---

His mom sighed. “Of course, dear!" she called back, adding a quick "silly me” under her breath for good measure. She ruffled her son’s hair fondly before stepping aside. “You don’t have to help if you’re not feeling up to it, honey. I’ll be right back.”

Sunny barely registered her words, his full attention focused on his father the man standing in their driveway.

What was he doing here?

Mr. Suzuki The man, quite unbothered by his son’s Sunny’s quiet tumult, was busy unloading several shopping bags from the back of their car. His wife Ms. Suzuki had rushed over to help him, grabbing a few herself and setting them down on the sidewalk.

Sunny watched the two of them in silence, hardly processing what he was seeing.

Had... had his father that man reconciled with his mother while he was unconscious? The possibility was foreign to him; nowhere, not even in his wildest dreams, had he ever considered such an outcome.

Ohgodhe’scomingthisway-

Sunny flinched as his father the man stopped in front of the doorway, giving him a strange look. “Hey, I’m real glad to see you too, kiddo,” he said, chuckling a little, “but I can’t exactly get these groceries through the door if you’re standing in it.”

Sunny blinked, then numbly shuffled back into the house.

“Atta boy,” his father Dad the man chortled as he walked past him, shopping bags in tow. After a moment, he added, “You still seem a little out of it, son. Think you need a bit more time in bed?”

Oh, he could use a lifetime in bed right now. Though that sentiment wasn’t exactly unfamiliar to him.

“I... maybe,” he somehow managed to choke out. “Don’t know.”

His father Dad I ̶m̶i̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ The man nodded understandingly. “It might be a good idea,” he suggested. “After all, that was one nasty fever you were dealing with...”

He left his son Sunny to ponder this as he sauntered into the kitchen.

. . .

Desperate to avoid thinking about the father man-shaped elephant in the other room, Sunny instead busied himself with the smaller details.

Why is my supposed fever what everyone’s so worried about? he couldn't help but wonder. Instead of, you know, the part where I got stabbed with garden shears several times? And nearly lost an eye?

Maybe all those injuries really had been part of the hallucinations. Maybe him and Basil had hardly gotten hurt at all.

The pain had certainly felt real, though.

...

Sunny sighed in frustration.

Okay, this wasn’t working. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t distract himself from the fact that his father the man who’d once considered himself his father was... back. Back, as if nothing had happened. Back, as if he’d never left at all.

The same father who’d read him stories in all sorts of silly voices. The same father whose rare hugs had felt even warmer than Mari’s. The same father who’d labored tirelessly on that hot summer day to build the treehouse he knew his son would love.

The same father he’d seen hacking down a once-favorite tree, his expression so twisted it scarred him to his core.

How was he supposed to feel?

Sunny shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. This was all just too much to deal with at once. He needed some time alone, time to process everything.

He hurriedly excused himself, backing out of the living room...

...and almost tripped over something small and furry.

He looked down.

His heart stopped.

“Meow,” Mewo said calmly.

Sunny wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Of course. Of course Mewo would suddenly be back as well. Because why would anything just be normal for once? Too much to ask for, clearly.

He was a bit ashamed to admit it, but he hadn’t actually been sure what had happened to the small cat in the carnage that followed his actions. If his dad had taken her when he left, or his mom had sold her to someone else. If she’d simply up and left someday, roaming around town as nothing more than yet another stray. All he’d known was that one day she was there, and the next she was not.

And yet, here she was.

He stared down at the black cat, watching her tilt her head curiously at him, as though she were waiting for something to happen.

“I... I missed you, girl,” he whispered, reaching over and stroking her lovingly behind the ears. Mewo let out a soft purr, leaning into his touch the way she’d always done.

I missed this so much.

It was all so ridiculous, he reflected, running his hands through the cat’s silky fur. They were staying in Faraway after all, that man—no, his father—had suddenly come back, Mewo was here...

For a moment, Sunny could almost pretend nothing had ever happened. That he and that stupid recital hadn’t destroyed everyone’s lives in one terrible, rage-filled mistake.

If only Mari was still here.

If only he hadn’t-

“Dad! I’m back!” an achingly familiar voice called from the other room.

nn

no

nononononononononononononononononono

“I finished dropping off the stuff the Rodriguezes asked for, and- Oh, Sunny, you’re out of bed!”

this

wasn’t

right

sunny felt every cell in his body shrivel up and die. every molecule that made up his being was on fire and they wouldn’t stop burning and smoke was everywhere and he was choking and he couldn’t breathe and

“Sunny?! Oh my God!”

the world faded to noise. nothing but millions of tons of water dragging him down deep under the earth where broken things went to lie

“MOM! DAD! S-something’s wrong!”

grotesque, broken creatures everywhere he looked, he did this, there was no escape

“What happened?!”

they were getting closer, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide

“I-I don’t know! He suddenly just-”

“Sun...ny,” one gurgled. he panicked, he screamed, his lungs fought to  b r e a t h e

“SUNNY!”

Sunny jerked sharply back to reality, his breathing heavy and ragged. Three faces peered down at him, a mix of fear, bewilderment, and worry adorning each.

“Sunny, dear, is everything alright?” his mother asked, kneeling by his side.

“M̵̢̖̼̝̞̗͒̔̐̈́̔͑̀a̵̬̼̣͐́̔̇̑̕ŗ̶̝̖̹͇̺̻͋͐̏͆̈́͝í̸̫̹͖̔ says you just... fainted?” his father added, his brow creased with concern.

But Sunny couldn’t look away from his sister M̶a̶r̶i̶ the creature standing beside him. He couldn’t look away from the body hanging from the tree, from the single glaring eye he never should’ve looked back to s

NO.

He couldn’t lose himself again. He couldn’t let himself slip away.

He screwed his eyes shut... and forced himself to FOCUS.

He FOCUSED

on his shallow breathing

on the slow rise and fall of his chest

on the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Nothing   else   existed   outside   of   this   moment.

Nothing   else   mattered   but   maintaining   control.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Everything

                        was going

                                               to be okay.

At long last, he finally felt himself begin to CALM DOWN...

...and flung himself at his bewildered sibling.

“M-Mari,” he sobbed, clinging to her tightly. “I... I’m s-so... sorry...”

Mari frowned, but began to slowly stroke his hair all the same. “For what?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion. “Scaring us? It’s fine; just don’t overwork yourself. You should really get some more re-”

Sunny shook his head violently. “No,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “For... the recital.”

Silence.

Oppressive, heavy, unforgiving.

“I... don’t understand,” Mari said finally, her voice empty of conviction. “Sunny, that was four years ago. Do you really think I still hold that against you?”

Lies. Sweet nothings. Empty words in a vain attempt at comfort. How could she not hold it against him?

“It’s okay that you decided you didn’t want to play in the end, that it was giving you too much stress,” Mari continued. “Sure, I was a little mad at you then, but it wasn’t long before I forgave you. Before I realized that I was letting what was supposed to be a fun hobby become something that made me push everyone away.”

...

What?

“I know you felt guilty about not using the violin after all,” his sister murmured, softly tracing her fingers along his back, “but they understood that it wasn’t something you’d even asked for, and they all agreed that how you felt, what you wanted, was more important. Remember?”

What?

Mari sighed, looking up at her parents. “I really don’t know what got into him,” she said. “I... guess the fever might’ve gotten to him more than we thought it would? Did he seem lucid earlier?”

“Don’t have fever,” Sunny mumbled, refusing to let go of his sister. “Never had fever. Why is everyone talking about fever?”

The Suzuki parents exchanged a concerned glance.

“Sunny...” his mother ventured, “you’ve... been in bed for the past week with a very, very bad case of fever. The doctors told us you might not remember much of it. What do you remember?”

What... did he remember?

He remembered...

...a fateful argument atop the stairs.

...an instant of pure, colossal rage.

...begging, pleading, screaming for his sister to wake up.

...a sea of static as he was offered a way to fix everything.

...the slam of a car door as his father walked out of his life forever.

...his mother sobbing on the couch, no one left to comfort her.

...four years of isolation, torment, delusion.

...Kel’s joy when he’d opened the door for that very first time.

...Aubrey’s rage at his sudden return.

...Basil’s grief at his impending departure.

...one last picnic in a graveyard with three friends he didn’t deserve.

...two troubled teens in a dark room, unable to handle the tangle of emotions they were forced to bear.

...wrenching himself out of his hospital bed, determined to set things right.

And yet...

His mother and father, hovering anxiously nearby. His beloved cat, curled contentedly at his feet. His wonderful sister, trying her best to calm him down.

It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “What I remember.”

His mother nodded. “The doctors warned us this might happen,” she said quietly. “They warned us things might seem confusing for you when you woke up, that your memories might seem a bit jumbled. They said you might have... dreams. Were you dreaming about the recital, honey?”

. . .

Sunny closed his eyes and went very, very still.

Was he really supposed to believe that everything he’d gone through... was some kind of mutant fever dream?

After all that, after everything he’d been through, everything he’d tried so hard to fight for...

...“it was all a dream”?

No.

That wasn’t right; he knew that wasn’t right. Everything that had happened, he’d lived through it, he really had!

But he’d always been an imaginative boy, hadn’t he? Maybe the strong case of fever was enough for him to create dreams so vivid that

No.

He wouldn’t let himself believe that.

Wouldn’t he...?

“I-I...” he croaked, his voice cracking. “Fight with... Mari... p-pushed her down... the stairs...”

“Shhhh,” Mari whispered, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s okay, little bro. I’m here, I’m here. It was just a dream.”

. . .

Was...

Was it really?

Had all that suffering... been for nothing?

Had he never truly suffered at all?

Sunny didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to think about anything except the primal urge to keep clinging tightly to his sister, wracking her body with his own sobs.

So he did.

Mari said nothing more, rubbing his back in that familiar circular motion she’d used so many times whenever he got this upset.

“I... think he might need some space,” she eventually told her parents, voice apologetic. “If that’s okay. I’ll call you if anything else happens.”

The elder Suzukis nodded. When it came to calming Sunny down, there was nobody in the world better at it than his older sister.

“Okay,” his father said quietly.

“If you need us, we’re here for you, sweetie,” his mother whispered.

Footsteps, then nothing.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Sunny felt his breathing begin to stabilize, his heartbeat gradually shifting from a jackhammer to a dull drum in his ears. His arms slackened slightly. Tension evaporated from his legs. Thoughts started to trickle back into his head.

Mari finished rubbing his back with one last flourish. “You’ll be okay,” she said soothingly. “It’s not as scary as you think.”

When Mari was around, nothing ever did seem to be.

“How about this,” his sister proposed, carefully helping him back to his feet. “I make you breakfast. You eat the breakfast. You forget allll about this silly little fever and go back to being my regular, adorable, awesome little brother.” She gave him a warm smile, a smile bright enough to light up the farthest reaches of outer space.

A smile he’d missed so very much.

Mari tilted her head at him.

“How does that sound?”

Chapter Text

Sunny was looking forward to breakfast.

It was hard to pin down the last time he’d felt that way. Sometime before... everything, he imagined. As far as he was concerned, it was a new sentiment entirely. One he’d have the opportunity to get used to, he hoped.

Still in his too-childish bunny pajamas, he watched his older sister in action. She’d offered to make him breakfast once he finally calmed down (“All it costs is your love!”, she’d told him, in a dose of bittersweet nostalgia), and he’d jumped at the opportunity. It had been far too long since he’d tasted any form of his sister’s cooking, so there was no way he’d pass that up.

...Unless it hadn’t been very long at all, his traitorous mind made sure to remind him. Unless it really had only been a week, and everything he thought had been real was no more than a very, very bad dream.

Refusing once more to properly confront the notion, he forced himself to focus on the smaller details. He’d been a bit too... out of it before to properly notice, but he saw now that Mari’s hair was not the raven black he expected, it instead a dark indigo. The memory of an old promise floated to mind, drawing a slight smile. It looked quite nice combined with her pristine white blouse and violet denim skirt. The change suited her, he thought.

Mari poured a second egg into the pan, careful and deliberate as always. “Feeling better?” she asked, giving him a decidedly motherly look.

“Think so,” he mumbled. “Still a bit... confused.”

His sister replied with a sympathetic nod. “It might help to talk about the dreams you had,” she suggested, laying two slices of bread on a plate. “That may help you re-organize things.”

Dreams.

The word echoed in his mind unpleasantly, repeating over and over and over until it reached an uncomfortable crescendo.

Sunny felt his grip on the sides of his chair tighten.

“Mari?” he said quietly. “Can... I tell you something?”

“Of course,” she replied, gingerly placing the bread in the toaster.

Sunny paused, steeling himself.

“I don’t think they were dreams.”

Mari laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said, filling a small glass with apple juice.

Sunny remained firm. “I’m serious.” He was. “Really don’t think they were dreams. They were too... real. Too vivid.”

Mari was testing to see if his egg was ready to be flipped yet. It wasn’t. “Okaaay,” she said slowly, stretching the word’s single syllable. “But you’ve always had a vivid imagination, Sunny. Remember that time when we were younger and you were convinced Captain Spaceboy was real and that you’d seen him fly by the window?”

Sunny did remember that time, though he kind of wished he didn’t.

“Was seven,” he retorted. “Was harder to know what was real and what wasn’t.” It still was.

“True,” Mari admitted, pulling a stick of butter out of the fridge and placing it on the counter. “But still... what’s got you so convinced? I don’t get it.”

And here it was—the golden thread tying it all together. The small, oh-so-minute detail that turned this whole situation from trivial to anything but.

“Mari,” he said quietly, closing his eyes, “Many things... I remember. This house. Mom and dad. Ou... your friends.” He opened his eyes, taking a moment to organize his thoughts, before continuing, “but many things.... I don’t remember.” He looked down at his hands, hands that should be cut off, cast away. “Having a fever. Recital... happening. The past year. The one before.”

For a few moments, Mari said nothing, busying herself with finally flipping his egg onto its other side.

“The past year... you don’t remember anything?” she wondered, the frown in her voice evident.

Sunny’s breath caught in his throat at this unexpected lifeline. His sister hadn’t discounted his beliefs outright, like he was so certain she would. Maybe there was a chance...?

He shook his head. “Not that simple,” he said. “Do have memories. But they’re... different.”

He caught a glimpse of Mari’s frown deepening as she retrieved the newly-toasted bread, setting it aside as she reached for the butter. “Different how?” she asked, spreading it liberally.

. . .

Oh, where to begin?

“A bad different,” he said simply. “The worst kind.”

Mari expertly scooped his egg out of the pan and onto a waiting plate, carefully arranging the toast next to it. She flicked the stove off, grabbing the pre-prepared cup of apple juice with one hand and his plated food with the other.

“So tell me how you remember things,” she proposed, setting his breakfast down in front of him. She settled down in the chair to his right, looking at him expectantly.

He was taken aback a little by the directness of her request. He’d been bracing himself to be dismissed, for his worries and concerns to be brushed aside.

But if she wanted answers, who was he to refuse?

Sunny took a deep breath.

Well, he thought. Here goes.

If Mari’s eyebrows had been knitted together earlier, now they were bound by stitches.

“Aubrey... a delinquent, huh?” she mused aloud. “That’s so strange, I could never picture that. She might be a bit headstrong at times, but she’s such a sweet girl.”

Sunny had tried his best to keep things concise. There was a lot to tell, after all, so he’d thought it would make sense to only present bits and pieces. Like how Mari had been hurt in an ‘accident’, how it tore their friends apart. How they all went their separate ways, each finding a different way to cope with the cruel hand life had dealt them.

He definitely wasn’t telling her the whole truth because then she’d know what a broken disgusting monster he was and

He definitely wasn’t telling her everything just yet. Again, there was a fair amount to talk about, and he was still feeling a bit lightheaded from his... panic attack? Yeah, that felt right. There would always be time for further explanations later, after all, so there was really no reason to rush things.

No reason at all.

Breakfast long finished, they’d decided to move to the couch in the living room. It certainly beat sitting on the small kitchen stools, and since their parents didn’t seem to be around at the moment, it was as good a place to talk as any.

“Suited her,” he replied, shifting in his seat slightly, “in a surprising kind of way. Think a lot of it was for show. Her ‘gang’ was harmless, mostly. Worst thing she probably did was own a baseball bat covered in nails.”

“Covered in nails...” Mari repeated slowly, shaking her head. “Wow.” For a few moments, she said nothing, still processing everything he’d told her. “Sunny, that’s... oh, that’s all so horrible. Real or not, I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

He was sorry, too.

Sorry he’d been such a stupid, selfish person.

Sorry he’d ever thought he wouldn’t ruin every single thing he touched.

Sorry he’d ever thought he had the right to be ali

Aaaand there he went again, telling himself the very words he was supposed to be trying to avoid. Who needed OMORI when he kept circling back to this all on his own?

“Your turn,” he told his sister, trying to distract himself, to deflect the conversation. “To say what happened.”

Mari blinked. “O-Oh, gosh,” she stammered. “Uh... four years is a long time, Sunny. I don’t think there’s any way I could remember it all, let alone summarize it the way you did.”

Sunny thought about this. Right, four years was a pretty long time, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been thinking clearly. His own quartet of years had been so deeply uneventful that he’d almost forgotten that, for most people...

Life simply went on. As it always did.

“Basics, then,” he decided. “Kel, Basil, Hero... Aubrey...”

Mari relaxed a little, letting out a small breath. “Yeah, I can do that,” she said. “Though I’m not sure there’s much to talk about. Kel’s the same old Kel; playing basketball, getting into fights with Aubrey all the time, doing well enough in school. Basil’s... doing good.” Mari paused, her expression becoming pensive. “His grandmother passed away recently, and it’s been really hard for him... she was the only direct family he really had. But he’ll be okay, I know he will. He’s a tough kid.”

Tougher than you know, Sunny thought grimly. It had been hard enough living with the truth of what he’d done for a few hours; OMORI had nearly overwhelmed him in that time. But Basil didn’t have WHITE SPACE, or HEADSPACE, or a hanging black lightbulb to shut away everything he wanted to forget. He genuinely had no idea how the boy had even managed to persist for so long on his own, especially with Aubrey and her gang’s relentless bullying.

“He’s also been really worried about you,” Mari continued. “Kel’s convinced he’s been more worried about you than Aubrey.” She wrinkled her nose a little. “She didn’t like that.”

Didn’t like that... Aubrey had been that worried about him? No, wait, that didn’t mean anything. The two of them had always been close before he’d destroyed everything, their relationship with one another being just a step further than what they’d had with their other friends. Aubrey had told him all sorts of things she’d never told anybody else, things he’d dutifully kept a secret just for her. It made sense that she’d be worried like that.

Even if part of him wished it was because of something more

Mari sighed. “Really, though, it’s not very funny. Basil’s grandma was old, but it wasn’t her age that was the problem... she was sick. Very, very sick.” She gave him a vague smile that had more in common with a grimace. “And then right afterwards, his very best friend suddenly gets extremely sick, too... it makes sense he’d get so worried.”

...Ouch. When Mari put it that way, Sunny really couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He felt the sudden impulse to rush right over to the blonde boy’s house and tell him that he was okay, that he didn’t need to be concerned anymore.

“But it really hasn’t been all that bad!” Mari said brightly, clearly wanting to move on. “Basil’s been doing good in general. He’s still the same upbeat, gentle kid that always sees the best in others.”

Sunny was glad to hear that. The blonde boy deserved to be happy. Everyone did, really, except for him.

“Still takes photos of us?” he wondered.

“He sure does!” Mari laughed. “Though lately he’s been taking a bit more interest in the medium as a whole. Studying techniques, taking pictures of landscapes... he’s very passionate.”

The young photographer had always expressed interest in that when he was younger, Sunny remembered. The only other thing Basil had loved (besides his friends, of course) as much as his little white camera were his plants, and that was quite a high bar indeed.

“Hero,” Mari continued, a faint yet tangible blush creeping onto her cheeks at the mere mention of his name, “has been studying cooking with me. It’s been nice, but we’re quickly getting to the point where we’re not sure how much more staying here can offer us. We’ve been discussing... alternatives.”

Despite the somewhat somber undertones of what she was saying, Sunny was unable to miss the way his sister was talking about her and Hero, the way she used the word “we” so freely and abundantly.

“So. You and Hero...?” he prodded her.

Mari smiled. “Yeah,” she said happily. “We made it official two years ago.”

This, of course, begged a question. “Dad was okay with it?”

His sister nodded. “He came around in the end,” she said. “Admitted that Hero was twice the man he’d been at his age.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to imitate Mr. Suzuki’s gravelly tones. “Why, when I met your mother... ”

A small snort slipped out from behind Sunny’s lips. It was simply unbelievable, how much he was enjoying himself right now. It was simply unbelievable that he could just sit here, just talk and laugh with his wonderful, goofy older sister.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt warmth like this.

“Two of you always did make a good couple,” he commented wryly.

Mari gave him a smug look. “Oh, you’re not too bad yourself.”

Sunny blinked.

“...What?”

“You know,” Mari said, her smirk faltering slightly. “You and Aubrey?”

For a moment, every molecule of oxygen disappeared from his lungs, and Sunny nearly began the excruciating process of asphyxiation.

Then he recovered, replying with a short, forced chuckle. “Ha. Good one, sis.”

Mari’s smirk wavered further. “No, really,” she said, a hint of unease creeping into her voice. “If you two weren’t together, why would you be wearing her pajamas?”

. . .

The room suddenly became both very cold and very hot simultaneously.

In that instant, Sunny had exactly two thoughts, in this order:

1. Oh, these are hers. That explains a lot actua
2. I’MWEARINGHERPAJAMAS????LKIJUHY

Oblivious to the absolute hurricane she’d just unleashed in her brother’s mind, Mari was watching him, the last remnants of her grin fading entirely at his silent shock.

“You... really didn’t know,” she said quietly. “So you weren’t lying. You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

Sunny just shook his head, trying to clear all the unwanted(?) images now dancing in his brain.

“You sure look good in my pajamas, Sunny~” Aubrey said playfully. His heart skipped a beat—no, three—as she leaned closer and closer, her lips glistening softly in the moonlight-

“Thought you believed me,” he said, forcing himself back to reality.

His older sister sighed, rubbing her temples. “Sunny,” she said slowly, “if one day I woke up from a big fever and suddenly claimed I had completely different memories of the past four years, what would you think?”

“You were crazy,” Sunny said instantly. “Or joking.” He’d been pretty convinced she was going to accuse him of such, after all.

Mari nodded. “Right,” she said. “So I hope you’ll forgive me for being a little bit skeptical. But I know you, and you really don’t seem to be lying.” She gave him a grim smile, lightly cupping her head in her hands. “And that’s exactly the trouble. Because if you’re not lying... then what’s going on here?”

Sunny said nothing, his sibling’s words reverberating inside his mind.

If you’re not lying... then what’s going on here?

As far as he could tell, there were at least two possibilities.

Either he’d somehow managed to transport himself to a universe where he hadn’t made the terrible mistake that had permanently destroyed the lives of everyone he loved... or everything he’d been through really had just been the product of a strong imagination and an even stronger case of fever.

Yes, one of those did seem a little more plausible than the other. He knew that, damn it, he knew that. He wasn’t stupid

“You know, all of this does seem to remind me of something,” Mari said suddenly, interrupting his train of thought. “But I just can’t quite—OH!”

Sunny waited expectantly for her to share her revelation. When she didn’t, he spoke up. “So?”

Mari’s face flushed slightly. “It’s... nevermind. Nothing important.”

He gave her a withering look.

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled. “But I want NO judgement from you. Is that clear?”

Sunny nodded his ascent. He hardly felt in the position to judge anyone at the moment, anyway.

Mari closed her eyes.

“Spaceboy issue one forty-nine.”

Something stirred in the dark-haired boy’s memory.

“Spaceboy almost dies after big battle,” he fired back instantly. “Woken up by Sweetheart in her castle with no memory of what happened. Sweetheart had died in the previous issue.”

Mari’s face lit up with recognition. “Yup, that’s the one,” she said. After a moment, she frowned. “...Can’t remember how it ended, though.”

Sunny mulled it over for a few seconds before admitting defeat. “Don’t remember how it ended, either,” he said finally. He thought for a bit, then added, “Think I was reading it around the time of...”

...the recital.

The unspoken words passed between the two siblings as though they’d been said out loud.

“I guess it’s not really important, is it?” Mari eventually supplied.

Her brother nodded at this. “Mhm.”

. . .

Silence fell over the pair.

Sunny used the time to ponder his strange circumstance. Despite how surreal this all still felt, for a part of him, it was just so easy to slip back into this quiet back-and-forth with his older sister, so easy to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, completely in order. That it had never been out of order.

That regardless of what he could or couldn’t remember, the past four years actually had been nothing more than a really, really messed-up fever dream.

Maybe... this was all a lot simpler than he’d thought. Maybe all he really needed to do was rest up a little, recover a bit, and then all those missing memories would rush right back and everything would be just fine.

...

...

But he couldn’t just sit around and wait for that to happen. For now, he needed to gather as much information as possible, to ask the important questions.

“Me and Aubrey,” Sunny said suddenly, pointedly ignoring the proud red flush that had begun to crawl along his ears. “Together. For how long?”

Mari had to think about it. “About six or seven months, if I remember right.”

Oh.

Oh, wow.

So it had been serious, then. Not a joke, not a fluke, not an “I guess I’ll try this if you really want” that would inevitably meet a swift end.

A real, bona fide relationship.

Sunny wasn't sure how to feel about this.

On one hand, it was exactly what he’d always wanted, what he’d always dreamed of. But on the other, it was something else entirely. Sure, he’d been dreaming of her for so long now, but those dreams were of a younger, sweeter Aubrey. One who was more innocent. One who never progressed past kind words, warm hugs, and the occasional peck on the cheek (if she was feeling bold enough). He was dealing with a sixteen-year old Aubrey here. One he’d been dating for six months. One he’d almost certainly held hands with. One he’d almost certainly... kissed.

How far along were they? How much would she expect of him? What if he underdid the romantic stuff? What if he overdid it? Had they shared a bed before? Was that okay? Did he want that to be okay? Had they maybe even done more than just no no NO HE WAS NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT THEY WERE ONLY SIXTEEN. GAH.

Sunny wanted to laugh, cry, and maybe throw up. Okay, definitely throw up. That one most of all.

“...llo? Earth to Planet Sunny?”

Mari’s voice floated back to his very crimson ears, returning him to reality. His sister was looking at him with undisguised concern.

“Didn’t like that answer, huh?”

Sunny swallowed, shaking his head. “...Complicated.”

How was he even supposed to explain what he was feeling? That while a small part of him was positively ecstatic at the idea of doing any of that... couple stuff, another part of him was deeply, profoundly uncomfortable?

Did he—he, not the hypothetical Sunny that may or may not have been here before, in his place—even WANT to be in a relationship with Aubrey? She was a great friend, sure, and over the years, he had gradually come to think of her as just a little more than that (well, before the recital, anyway), but... this?

Did he want this?

Had he ever wanted this?

Would he have wanted this, if things had played out differently?

He just wasn’t sure. And somehow, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to have time to really parse through it all, either. What could he say? “Hi, Aubrey. Sorry to tell you this, but I’m not actually your boyfriend. I’m a slightly different, much worse version of him that has made some very bad mistakes. Anyway, I don’t know where the hypothetical other version of myself that you know is, or if he ever existed in the first place, and if maybe I really am the same person but somehow this crazy fever screwed with half my memories. As such, I don’t know how comfortable I am right now with all the romantic stuff you may or may not usually do, because everything’s a mess up in my head at the moment. So if you could please respect my boundaries, I’d really appreciate that. Thanks.”

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

“...ou like her?” Mari’s voice wondered dimly in the background.

Sunny forced himself to pay attention.

“Missed that,” he mumbled.

Mari blinked. “I said, do you like her?”

Well.

Did he?

“I... did,” he said slowly. “And still... do, I think? Don’t know.” He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, thinking that perhaps if he found somewhere deep enough to burrow, everything might just magically work out.

Mari sighed, giving him a sisterly pat on the back. “I guess this is probably pretty weird for you, huh,” she mused. “You must be feeling a lot of conflicting emotions.”

He certainly was. For most people, it might be a bit difficult to read the seemingly blank, stoic boy, but those close to him knew to look for the small tells, the small shifts in expression and body language, that conveyed his thoughts and feelings to the world.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t emote the way most people did. This kind of behavior was just... automatic, by now. It certainly had its upsides and downsides, but he’d long since grown comfortable with his quiet, subdued way of living, his familiar, safe way of handling things.

Locking his emotions behind an outer stone wall kept him secure, out of danger. If less things could reach him, less things could hurt him. Because as nice as thoughtlessly expressing himself might seem... it would mean he was vulnerable.

Sunny didn’t like being vulnerable.

How vulnerable was he meant to be when he was with Aubrey? How vulnerable was she? She’d always been pretty vulnerable with him; their endless, near one-sided talks of the past were prime examples of such. But him? He’d rarely ever talked about things; not to her, not to his mother, sometimes not even to Mari. He was used to keeping his feelings, his problems, inside. Things were safer that way, more predictable. Not always easier, but safer.

Wasn’t safety what mattered most?

...

Maybe what mattered most right now was paying attention to Mari before her exasperation reached critical levels.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Lot to process. Still tired.”

His sister nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “I get that. Maybe you should get some more rest, then. Once our friends hear that you’re better, they’re really going to want to see you, but I can tell them you need some more time.”

Sunny wasn’t quite sure he’d say he was “better” just yet, but he was too busy focusing on something else the indigo-haired girl said.

Our friends.

Such simple words. And yet, there was so much behind them.

Behind them was Kel, energetic and well-meaning.

Behind them was Basil, upbeat and optimistic.

Behind them was Hero, smart and dependable.

Behind them was Aubrey, vibrant and lively.

Behind them were people he’d loved, people he’d cherished.

People he thought he’d never see again.

He still wasn’t sure what was going on, or if he’d ever have the chance to figure it out. He still wasn’t sure how much he could believe that he was here, really here, sitting in a house he wasn’t leaving with a family that hadn’t broken and a sister that hadn’t died.

He wasn’t sure how much he could believe that he still had friends.

That he had someone who was... more than that.

Because they didn’t know the truth, of course. If they only knew what a deplorable, depraved waste of oxygen he was, they would inevitably abandon him like he deserved, even though what he truly deserved was far worse than that

But he didn’t really feel like thinking about all of this right now. Regardless of whatever was actually going on here, he was tired.

He let out a large, cartoonish yawn.

Oh, was he was looking forward to getting back into that safe, all too familiar bed-

Knock knock knock

The pair of siblings froze.

“Mrs. Suzuki?” a familiar female voice breathlessly called out from the other side. “I’d like to check on Sunny, if that’s okay?”

Mari and Sunny looked at each other.

“Speak of the devil and it shall appear,” the older Suzuki stage-whispered, a rueful smile on her face. She patted her brother on the back. “You get yourself upstairs. I’ll go tell her you’re not feeling up to visits right now.” She drew herself up from the couch, stopping to snap her fingers suddenly. “Oh, and I just remembered something I forgot to tell you about her and Basil-”

The door swung open.

“Huh,” their visitor muttered under her breath. “Didn’t expect it to be unlocked.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Aubrey!” Mari scolded her automatically. “You can’t just barge into people’s houses like that!”

The pink-haired girl blanched. “I- sorry, I jusOHMYGOSHHISUNNY!!!!”

If there had been time, Sunny would have looked at Aubrey, studied her. He would’ve seen that while her hair was still pink, the cyan contacts were missing. He would’ve seen that her face was a little rounder, her brow far less creased. He would’ve seen her sky-blue cardigan, her dark gray shorts.

But before he could register any of that, Aubrey had already crossed the distance between them.

She’d crossed the distance between their lips, too.

Chapter Text

Sunny had never kissed someone before.

Not in real life. Not even in his dreams.

Truth be told, it wasn’t really a topic that took up very much space in his head. He’d spent the entirety of his formative teenage years, the years he was supposed to be developing things like that dreaded hormone imbalance and proper attraction to others, holed up in his room going on childish adventures in his dreams. So he’d kind of missed the boat on that one, but frankly, he didn’t mind it very much. The whole thing had always seemed like a distraction to him, especially since he knew someone like himself didn’t deserve to be loved like that by anybody, so he hadn’t really minded his lack of compulsion for such things very much.

Hadn’t.

Past tense.

Any shred of preconceived notions of the idea had been thrown out the window—no, no, that achingly simple, painfully boring phrase didn’t even begin to do how he now felt justice. Printing them onto paper, shredding that paper to pieces, setting those pieces on fire, and mailing each individual ash particle to a different country was close, but not quite all the way there.

Whatever. Finding the perfect phrase to accurately describe his feelings wasn’t exactly the most pressing issue at the moment, because that award went to something else.

He was kissing Aubrey right now.

He was.

Kissing.

Aubrey.

Right.

Now.

Well, she was kissing him back, of course. That was the way these things worked. Sunny knew that, of course he did.

Especially now.

He knew that when she pressed her impossibly soft lips onto his, it would feel like a hundred fireworks went off in his brain. He knew that a steady warmth would spread throughout his entire body, that the entire world would melt away and there would be nothing left at all except for the two of them, nothing left except the slow rise and fall of their synchronized breaths. He knew that the flimsy barriers separating him from her would dissolve, and their bare essences would meld together on a cosmic level, welding them so tight it would seem like they had never been apart at all.

He knew this, because he had just felt it. It had just happened.

Sunny was disappointed when Aubrey pulled away. In fact, he struggled to remember the last time he’d ever felt disappointment like this, disappointment so utterly immense he thought there might be physical repercussions. Because right now, in this moment, absolutely everything he’d been through seemed infinitesimal in comparison.

Life was simply too unfair.

Aubrey giggled, a sound so heavenly he thought a choir of angels would have trouble competing. “That was supposed to just be a quick peck on the lips, you know. Didn’t think you’d get so into it~”

The dark-haired boy was too busy trying to remember how to do things, again. Like breathing. Had that really always been automatic? Had he really not always been hyper-aware of every nerve in his body? Foreign, that idea was.

It probably didn’t help that everything seemed to be spinning, spinning, spinning. And that there was this... buzzing, in his ears.

Like a moth to a flame, Sunny felt his gaze drawn straight to Aubrey, drinking in her long pink hair, her soft, goofy smile, her-

“Aubrey,” Mari hissed, rudely interrupting his train of thought. Her tone was low, dangerous, and she did not look happy. “Sunny had a fever. What were you THINKING?!”

Aubrey winced.

“I... wasn’t,” she mumbled, staring down at her feet. “I just saw Sunny out of bed and I got really excited. S-sorry.”

Sunny felt a sharp pain at seeing Aubrey like this, a stinging ache along with a twinge of anger at Mari. How could she yell at Aubrey like that? She was their friend!

Mari softened. “I know,” she said gently, letting out a small sigh, “but you have to learn to control yourself a little more. Sunny might be feeling... better, but he’s still, ah, tired.” She shot him a significant look. “I don’t think he’s ready for all of this yet. And besides, we don’t want you to get sick too!”

Sunny wasn’t sure how much he agreed with her on that first part. Did Aubrey learning self-control mean he’d get less kisses? Because that would be no good, not at all. How could that possibly be a good thing?

The buzzing got a little louder.

Aubrey sighed, her face dropping into a pout so adorable Sunny was certain his heart would rupture. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” she said quietly. “I... it just feels like he’s been gone forever.” She turned to him, a faintly watery smirk on her face. “You were in bed for a whole week and weren’t waking up.” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t you ever worry me like that again, you dork.”

Aubrey was worried? Clearly, then, the only thing that mattered right now was assuaging those worries. He cleared his throat. “Better now,” he told her authoritatively.

The way Aubrey smiled at him made his heart do a somersault. It made him want to do a somersault.

Okay, this whole buzzing situation was starting to get more than just a little annoying. How was he supposed to direct his full, undivided attention to Aubrey every single second if there was some stupid buzzing in the background? And why did it keep getting louder?

Mari was wavering between concern and amusement. “Sunny, I know things are difficult for you right now,” she said, giving him another significant look, “so please don’t feel the need to push yourself. Okay?”

His sister’s words felt like they were a hundred miles away. Didn’t she understand? He did feel the need to push himself. He felt the need so deeply that it was simply the only option. Refusing Aubrey’s affection was as inconceivable as choosing to retreat to HEADSPACE. And that was quite inconceivable.

Not that it really mattered, because he was pretty convinced he was going to explode from the sheer cuteness overload (or this stupid buzzing, though it was more of a whine at this point). How was he supposed to stomach this??? The way she was smiling at him right now and tilting her head ever so slightly and looked so relaxed and cute and adorable and did he mention how cute and adorable she looked because wow was she cute and ador-

“I think you broke him.” Mari’s tone was light, but there were faint undertones of worry.

Broke him? Broke him? Sunny was beyond indignant that Mari would dare say such a thing, even as a joke. Aubrey hadn’t broken him, she couldn’t’ve! Beautiful, wonderful, amazing Aubrey would never...

...would... never...

...

...Wait.

Something was off about all of this. His mind didn’t seem to be working the way it was supposed to... but what was wrong, exactly? Sunny tried to think about it, really think about it, but it felt like wading through a room full of fuzz. Everything felt... blurry, out of focus.

Like that focus was locked onto something else.

Aubrey’s face popped into his head, and he pushed it away, annoyed. This was no time to be thinking about her, not when he needed to figure out what was going on-

. . .

Oh.

It was her, wasn’t it.

What was it called, again? “Attraction”? That seemed to fit. But he’d just thought it meant, like... someone being appealing to you, or whatever. Not this. Not being infatuated with every little motion, every little breath and twitch and mannerism, your eyes desperately drinking in every detail as though they were the last things you’d ever see.

So how did he turn it off, then? Go back to normal? Was there, like, a button, or something?

An idea came to him. He wasn’t sure it would work, since he really didn’t know all that much about this “love” stuff, but it was worth a shot. After all, the skill technically wasn’t just reserved for when he was AFRAID; that was simply where he found it most useful. So he figured he might as well give it a try.

Somewhat tentatively, Sunny closed his eyes... and tried to CALM DOWN.

It was like someone had dunked a bucket of icy water on his head. Suddenly, the world came back into sharp focus, the demented hum in his ears fading away at once.

Oh.

Sunny suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable.

He’d been right on the money about love driving people wild. All it had taken was a single kiss from Aubrey to send him over the edge, abandoning all logic and reasoning. One single kiss was all it had taken for his entire world to become completely eclipsed by the (admittedly still rather cute) pink-haired girl. And that was dangerous. Potentially more so than anything he’d encountered thus far. Sunny was someone who valued logic above all else, someone who often viewed things through that lens alone. Being awake was pointless, so he should stay asleep. He’d killed someone, so he deserved to die. But this felt like the antithesis to that; nothing but a heady, selfish rush of feeling. And it was strong, impossibly potent, so much more so than the best-worded thesis he could ever construct.

And yet.

He wanted more.

Sunny frowned.

He had a feeling this was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

Head clear for the time being, he studied the girl that mere moments ago had completely disrupted his precious neural network. Aubrey had settled herself on the cushion next to him, looking quite relaxed indeed. She sported similarly-vivid pink hair to the Aubrey he’d met in the park with Kel, but that was the only thing that was one-to-one. The blue contacts were gone, perhaps never having existed here in the first place. Her face was just a little rounder, less lined, and featured the most adorable smile he’d ever seen like seriously how was it even possible for someone to be this cute it should not be legal

Sunny’s frown deepened exponentially at having to claim ownership of such thoughts. Was one kiss really all it took for his super-tiny-barely-worth-mentioning-no-really-it-wasn’t-very-important-at-all-crush to blossom into... whatever this was? Because he wasn’t sure he could handle that, especially not with everything else that was already going on.

Dropping his cliff-faced expression quickly proved to be a bit of a mistake, because Aubrey suddenly looked at him with a deeply satisfying very alarming amount of concern. “Everything okay?” she asked softly, reaching for his hand.

He flinched.

Aubrey sharply drew her hand back, an unmistakable look of hurt on her face.

“Sorry,” he blurted, shrinking back in his seat a bit. “I... still tired.”

Holy Mewo, that had been close. The near-brush left his body tense, coiled. Just because his stupid brain was way-too-on-board with this whole relationship thing certainly didn’t mean he was. If anything, it was only making him more uncomfortable.

Mari let out a small, near imperceptible breath. Aubrey just gave him a short nod. “Okay,” she relented, clearly still a little hurt. “I won’t force myself on you if you’re not ready.”

Sunny nodded vaguely. That was good, yes. It’d definitely help until he could get this whole “romantic feelings” situation under control, a possibility he was beginning to have more and more doubts about.

Maybe he could call in OMORI to repress some of that stuff? No, no, that was a bad idea. He didn’t really want to see the monochrome boy again if he could help it, and besides, he wasn’t entirely sure he... still existed, anymore.

Mari cleared her throat. “I really don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to stay right now, Aubrey,” she said, her tone measured. “Sunny’s only just woken up. I think he needs a bit more time to rest.”

The way the pink-haired girl’s face fell caused Sunny to have a most unpleasant feeling, like someone had reached into his body and given his liver a sharp twist. Or his heart.

But Aubrey wasn’t ready to quit just yet. “You didn’t even ask what he wants!” she argued, her long pink hair swaying indignantly. She turned towards Sunny, giving him an imploring look.

Sunny felt trapped. On one hand, he would feel bad for sending her away, especially considering just how much she had been worried about him. But on the other, her presence was a liability, an unknown, volatile variable that could change the game in ways he quite clearly wasn’t equipped to deal with.

He should send her away. But then she’d be sad. But sad was better than awkward. But it wasn’t fair to her. But he should focus on himself. But he was always focusing on himself. But it was for the best, since she didn’t know what was going on. But he couldn’t keep avoiding his problems. But he wasn’t ready for this. But he could learn to be ready. But, but, but...

There was no way he was going to reach a decision like this. He shot Mari a desperate, hopefully discreet look, praying with all his might she’d understand and could somehow resolve things.

After a moment, his sister nodded. “Okay,” she said. “But I’m asking my parents first.”

Sunny was rather unprepared to discover that the Suzuki’s music room had been turned into a dual study. His parents both had a corner and desk of their very own, situated diagonally across from one another. Strange foam strips lined the walls and door frame—to mitigate noise, maybe? He vaguely recalled his mom often needing to use the phone for her job; that probably had something to do with it. The piano was long gone, it seemed, probably deep in storage somewhere. He was more than okay with this.

His father was typing away at his bulky desktop computer, pausing every so often to take a small sip from the #1 DAD mug on his desk. And his mother...

“Yes, Derik?” she was saying, gripping the phone just a bit tighter than she needed to. “No, I didn’t get Julia’s report. I haven’t heard from her all week, in fact. No, that doesn’t worry me, Derik. This is the second time this month, and the fourth time this year. I’m annoyed, not concerned. Yes, Derik, I am aware of the situation with her husband, and for the record, I fully agree with him. If my spouse was half as much an entitled bi...got as she is, I’d be quite upset at them too. No, Derik, I don’t feel bad saying that, because when my dear coworker decides she can show up to the company party drop-dead drunk and start mouthing off about everybody and bragging about subjects that are definitely not safe for work, I start to harbor just a little distaste for them. Yes, Derik, she mouthed off about you too. No, you don’t want to hear what she said. No, I can’t promise the report will be done by Sunday because I am sick and tired of doing her work and the fact she can do whatever the hell she wants just because the boss is her big ole’ daddy. Yes, Derik, that does have a name, and it’s called ‘nepotism’. No, Derik, I will not “take a deep breath”. I think I’ll take a day off. Maybe two. Good-bye.” With that, Mrs. Suzuki slammed the phone down. Silence reigned for a few moments as she rubbed her temples, her breathing heavy.

Finally, she looked up. “Sorry you had to hear that, kids,” she said, giving them a strained smile. “Adult stuff, you know how it is.”

Sunny nodded, despite not, in fact, knowing how it is.

“Anyway,” his mother continued, her tone getting a bit more breezy, “it’s good to see you, Aubrey! Not that we haven’t been seeing you quite a lot this past week. But it’s good to see you and Sunny together again! You two are just so cute~”

His mom’s words hit right in the heart. He felt his face flush red along with the pink-haired girl’s.

“Oh, yes,” his father added from his corner in the room, somewhat offhandedly. “Much cuter than Mari and Hero, at any rate.”

Sunny was glad that Mari’s indignant sputter covered up whatever noise he’d just made. “ExCUSE me?” his older sister exclaimed, her oft-measured voice climbing several octaves higher than usual.

Mr. Suzuki folded his arms, giving his daughter a hard look. “You heard me,” he said evenly. “You and Hero are just too old, too formal. Sunny and Aubrey still have that youthful spark of magic.” He looked to his wife for support. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Mrs. Suzuki looked torn. “I... abstain.”

“I won’t take that sitting down,” Mari warned them. She turned to the ‘youthful couple’, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You two. Me and Hero. Double date. We’re settling this.”

Sunny swallowed.

Woah.

The image of him and Aubrey on a date was beautiful amazing perfect hard enough to fathom... but a double date?

With Hero and Mari?

He was going to melt.

Here lies Sunny Suzuki, the plaque would say. Reduced to a puddle from too much emotion.

Aubrey came to his rescue. “He’s not even back from his trip yet,” she retorted, throwing Mari an annoyed look. “You’re getting kinda ahead of yourself here.”

Mari relented. “Fine,” she sighed, deflating a little. “But we’re coming back to this. I won’t let any of you forget it.”

The Suzuki parents exchanged a glance.

“She gets it from you,” they both said simultaneously.

“Me?” Mrs. Suzuki asked, incredulous. “Dear, do you remember our first few years together?”

Mr. Suzuki refused to back down. “Two words,” he said, his voice calm and purposeful. “Ferris. Wheel.”

His wife’s face flushed beet red. “You win,” she murmured, averting her eyes.

“Oh, I have to hear about this one,” Mari cackled, hardly able to contain her glee.

Her mother just shook her head wordlessly, refusing to comment.

“Some things,” her father said enigmatically, “are better left unsaid.” He clasped his hands together, effectively ending the conversation. “Anyway. How can I help you kids? Something tells me you didn’t drop by just to visit.”

The mood in the room sobered a bit.

“Aubrey wanted to know if she could stay over today,” Mari told him. “Since Sunny’s finally awake. I told her I needed to ask you first.”

The pink-haired girl nodded.

Mr. Suzuki frowned slightly at this. “Hmmmmmm.” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “I don’t know.”

“I think he might need a bit more time in bed,” Mrs. Suzuki supplied. For Aubrey’s benefit, she added, “He had a bit of an... episode, earlier.”

Aubrey turned to him, concerned. “What happened?”

Sunny lowered his gaze. “Fainted,” he said softly.

“A bit more than that,” Mari appended, her brow furrowing somewhat. “He also had a minor panic attack.”

Minor.

Sunny bit back a bitter snort.

Aubrey reached over, squeezing his arm. The amount of reassurance this bestowed upon him felt wildly disproportionate, coming from such a small action. Was love really this powerful?

“But he’s better now,” she argued. “You are, Sunny, aren’t you?”

Sunny wished she’d squeeze his arm again. “Uhm... yeah,” he found himself mumbling. “Don’t think it’ll happen a secon’ time.”

He was pretty sure there wasn’t much else left that could really trigger any sort of trauma response from him, not now that Mari was here. After all, she was back, really back. And that meant... that meant everything would be fine, now. That everything was okay again.

Right?

It did mean that, right?

Yes, he decided. It did mean that. It had to.

Mrs. Suzuki was less than convinced by the girl’s logic. “I understand you’ve been waiting a while for this, Aubrey,” she said carefully, “but I really don’t think it’s a good idea to push him right now. It might be best to just wait until tomorrow.”

Aubrey saw she was losing the battle, something Sunny still had mixed feelings about. “Come on, pleaaaase?” she begged. “I’ll watch him really carefully! I’m good at calming him down! If he seems uncomfortable or like he just wants to rest, I promise I’ll let him.” She looked at them, her expression equal parts desperate, earnest, and hopeful. “Please?”

Mr. Suzuki slumped in defeat. “Honey, I’m sorry. I can’t say no to that face.” (Sunny agreed.)

Mrs. Suzuki looked thoughtful. “Maybe they are cuter than Mari and Hero.”

“Hey, that’s enough of that!” Mari protested, pouting. “Hero’s not even here to stand up for himself! Talk about unfair.”

Aubrey snickered, her sweet, innocent face morphing into a cheshire-like grin. “Just quit while you’re behind, auntie.”

Several moments of painful silence followed this.

“Never say that again,” Mari said. “Or I’m revoking your Sunny privileges.”

Aubrey was undeterred. “I’d like to see you try.”

“This is all very adorable, but I think my husband and I have to get back to work,” Mrs. Suzuki chimed in.

Mr. Suzuki gave her a shrewd look. “I thought I just heard you give yourself a two-day vacation.”

His wife pressed her lips together. “I... forgot about that,” she admitted, letting out a small sigh. She turned to her guests, giving them a taut smile. “Let that be a lesson, kids. Don’t let your anger get the best of you, or you’ll end up doing some pretty stupid things.”

As if that wasn’t something Sunny knew all too well.

“Duly noted,” Mari confirmed, throwing them a thumbs-up. “We’ll leave you to it, then.” She flashed her brother an apologetic look before turning around and exiting the room. After a few moments, Sunny and Aubrey followed her.

So that was that, then. He’d chosen the path of passivity, and this was where it had led him: to sharing the day with a pink-haired girl who was convinced she was his... partner.

. . .

Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea, exactly? It really had felt like there were several compelling reasons earlier, yet now he couldn’t recall a single one of them.

It was because of this whole “attraction” thing again, wasn’t it? Ugh, that was really starting to get troublesome. It really wouldn’t do to continue letting these feelings cloud his sensibilities. He needed to get a better handle on himself, to recognize when he was being manipulated by his heart so he could restore order to his mind when necessary.

Someone really needed to make an instructional manual for this stuff. Preferably in large print, featuring helpful illustrations.

The trio arrived back in the living room. Sunny briefly wondered why they were just standing there before realizing someone had taken their spot on the couch.

“Well, aren’t you a naughty little kitten,” Aubrey cooed, addressing the black cat sprawled across the sofa. “Waiting until we left so you could take our spot? Oh, that’s no good.”

Sunny nodded to himself slightly. This aspect of Aubrey was familiar to him; she had a particular weakness for stereotypically cute animals, he knew. He’d seen her get this way whenever she took care of Bun-Bun, her pet rabbit.

Mewo tried to look thoroughly unamused by Aubrey’s antics, but Sunny saw right through her cliff-faced facade. He knew full well just how eagerly she was anticipating what would inevitably come next... and sure enough, Aubrey crouched down and began to slowly run her fingers through the cat’s ink-black fur. A look of pure bliss spread across his friend’s face, and he could practically see the singular thought occupying the pink-haired girl’s mind: “Fl...uffy... ”

Mari gasped dramatically. “That’s a looot of attention you’re giving Mewo there, Aubrey,” she said, her face a picture of shock. “I don’t know if Bun-Bun’s going to accept such a betrayal.”

Aubrey shrugged. “He’ll understand,” she replied loftily. “All fluffy animals must be paid their due.”

Sunny frowned slightly. He wished he was a fluffy animal. The image of Aubrey running her fingers through his hair like that-

-no, no, wait, he was supposed to be suppressing these kinds of thoughts. He needed to be able to think clearly, to perceive everything objectively.

Doing his best to ignore how absolutely adorable Aubrey looked right now, he tried to FOCUS...

...but cuteness overwhelmed him.

Okay, okay. This was fine. He just needed to try something else, something different. He wouldn’t let Aubrey distract him like this. He couldn’t.

He needed to PERSIST...

...but his heartbeat wouldn’t hold steady.

A faint string of panic began to swell up in his chest. This wasn’t working, he needed something to ground himself, he needed his kn

His hand grasped air.

His pocket was empty.

Sunny became AFRAID.

There had been several constants for Sunny in the past four years. A warm, safe bed. A cold, white room. Colorful friends that would never abandon him. A wonderful world he would never tire of. And yet, sometimes it seemed like the thing that was most important to him was his trusty knife. The knife that could cut through anything, anyone. The knife that could keep him safe from harm of almost all shapes and sizes... and even when it couldn’t, its mere presence was alway able to calm him down somewhat.

Its mere presence.

Something he’d always relied upon. Something he’d always taken for granted.

But it was now, in his hour of need, that he’d been deprived of this precious safety blanket. And he was not taking it well.

His body trembled.

His head spun.

whereisit whereisit whereisit

O-okay, maybe if... if... he thought about it hard enough, it would materialize by his side. Yeah. There was no time to think too hard about this plan, only to enact it as soon as possible. Before he lost further control.

He imagined...

its sleek black handle

its cold, glittering blade

t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶’̶d̶ ̶p̶r̶e̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶w̶n̶ ̶f̶l̶e̶s̶h̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶g̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶s̶e̶l̶f̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶e̶s̶e̶r̶

NONONONONO WHY WAS HE REMEMBERING THAT NOW WHY WAS HE REMEMBERING THAT N

Sunny became STRESSED OUT.

Breathing came in sharp, shuddery gasps.

Vision came in dark, painful bursts.

The world teetered sideways.

He was going to die.

He was going to die he was going to die he was going to d

Warmth.

Flooding his entire being.

Chasing the darkness away.

Voices.

Sobbing.

Pleading.

“Sunny... please...”

Wake up.

He needed to wake up.

He needed to WAKE UP.

WAKE UP.

Sunny woke up.

Everything felt strange, slow, sluggish. His body felt like it weighed three hundred pounds.

...Oh. That was because Aubrey had wrapped herself tightly around him, her sobs registering faintly in his ears as though he were underwater.

A bubble popped.

“...t happened?!”

Sunny stared blankly at Aubrey’s tear-stained face, it mere inches from his own. Just a few moments ago, such close proximity would’ve overwhelmed him with emotion, his mind filling with all sorts of wild fantasies.

But now, he just felt

                                       empty.

He’d been stupid. Naive, for ever thinking this would work out. Foolish, for ever thinking this could make sense.

He couldn’t bear to keep this charade up any longer.

Ignoring Aubrey’s protests, he carefully untangled himself from her. Ignoring Mari’s admonitions, he unsteadily got to his feet.

Ignoring both of their cries, he sprinted past them, through the sliding glass door.

Past the tree that shouldn’t exist.

Through the dense undergrowth.

Up the worn, rickety ladder.

Into the small, wooden house.

He was safe here.

He was alone here.

He was okay here.

Things would be okay here.

Things would be... okay...

A sea of tears blurred his vision, the world fading to a hum of static.

It was a familiar static, a painful static.

The static of a broken boy who would be broken forever.

In here, there was nothing. No trauma, no mistakes, no second chance he’d never deserved.

And that would have to be enough.

Sunny closed his eyes.

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

OMORI had been right.

The words were surprisingly easy for Sunny to say, considering just how hard he’d fought to disprove them earlier. Not that he could even understand why he’d done so anymore. Just what had pushed him to be so certain anything could ever work out? Just what had propelled him, sustained him, convinced him that he wasn’t the burden he now knew he undoubtedly was?

Oh yes, his friends would love to know that he was a disgusting pile of abhorrence. Oh yes, they would love to know that the person they cherished, loved, missed, hadn’t taken her own life. It did make sense to wrench himself out of the hospital bed he should’ve died in so he could hurt everyone he cared about one last time, to tell them that not only had Mari’s death been his fault... but he’d lied.

For four long, excruciating, unforgivable years, he’d lied.

Let them believe the story Basil had so thoughtfully crafted.

Left everyone to rot as he closed in on himself, forcing his problems out of his own head so he could feel something that wasn’t raw, undiluted agony—as if he’d had the right.

As if he’d even deserved that much.

As if he deserved anything other than to watch as each of his organs were carefully and methodically ripped out of himself one by one and grinded to a pulp before his very eyes, as each joint of each finger was slowly severed, crushed, and smeared across his bloodied, worthless body, joints of fingers that had pushed Mari down to a place from which she could never return, a place he belonged-

His thoughts lost more and more coherence, dissolving into nothing more than the pain he’d selfishly tried so hard to outrun. He didn’t bother trying to CALM DOWN, to FOCUS, to PERSIST. Because he knew, now, that this was something he could never OVERCOME.

You killed Mari. She loved you and you killed her.

He knew that.

No matter what you do, it will be hopeless.

He knew that.

All you'll do is make things worse.

He KNEW that.

It would be better to just-

HE KNEW THAT.

He knew that, he knew that, for God’s sake he knew that. What the hell did his mind think it was accomplishing, hitting him over the head with all the things he literally couldn’t stop thinking about? Was he supposed to know them more? He’d reached the absolute peak of human suffering, the apex, and yet he still wasn’t satisfied?

Oh. Of course.

He didn’t even deserve the satisfaction of feeling as though his suffering was adequate for what he’d done. This made sense to him and, bizarrely, seemed to calm him down slightly. Not a whole lot, or enough to make any kind of a difference. But it helped.

...But he didn’t deserve that help, so it was wrong of him to enjoy it, right? Ugh, this was starting to get a bit hard to keep straight.

Why couldn’t he just suffer in peace?

...

Besides the, uh. Obvious contradiction, there.

Sunny wanted to throw up at this grossly misplaced joke. Here he was, supposed to be stewing in his complete and utter worthlessness, and he couldn’t even do that right.

Figures.

He should just do it, already. Get it all over with. To hell with Basil and his promise. The blonde boy was on his own.

He’d... picked a pretty bad place to make that decision, though. There wasn’t much for options here. Maybe if he was able to bash his skull in with that bat hard enough-

“Hey.”

Sunny jumped at the unexpected intrusion, nearly making contact with the low wooden ceiling. His head snapped around, panicked, as he looked for the source of the noise.

It was Aubrey.

He hadn’t seen her come in, hadn’t heard her climb the rusty ladder, heave herself onto the creaky floorboards. He hadn’t felt her creep up beside him, lying a soft hand on his arm.

“No,” he rasped, jerking back. “No.”

Aubrey was hurt. “Please, Sunny,” she pleaded, her voice small, weak. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me why you’re like this. Tell me how I can help.”

She grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go.

Sunny frowned, the insatiable darkness ebbing ever so slightly to make room for a pocket of irritation.

“D-don’t understand,” he croaked, trying to pull his arm away. “M’not... who you think I am.”

Anger actually flashed across the pink-haired girl’s face at this. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her grip on his sleeve tightening. “You’re not who I think you are?”

Sunny nodded.

Aubrey blinked.

“Okay?” she said. “Then... who are you?”

. . .

Who was he?

A disgusting, rotten

selfish, depraved

worthless, lying

                                 murderer.

That’s who he was.

That’s who he’d ALWAYS be.

No matter what he did. No matter how hard he tried.

He’d always be the person that had pushed Mari down the stairs.

The person that had robbed everyone they loved of something they could never replace.

The person with blood on their hands they could never wash away.

The person that should just

                                                    die

                                                               already.

“A waste,” he mumbled. “A disease. Malignant growth. Rot. Corruption. Sickne-”

Aubrey slapped him.

It wasn’t a very hard slap, as far as slaps go. Especially slaps given by Aubrey. But it was still enough to rouse him a little, to bring just a tiny bit more feeling back into his body.

Not that it mattered.

Not that anything mattered.

“Please, I-I... I just want... to understand...” Aubrey’s voice wavered, then cracked, then finally broke. Tears snaked down her pained face, clinging to it tightly before falling onto the warped wood below. “Why... are you acting like this? Was it something I did? Was it something I didn’t do?” A small hiccup. “J-just... please... I need to know...”

Sunny stared blankly at the crushed girl as though she were nothing more than a stretch of mildly interesting patterned wallpaper.

She may as well have been.

“I m-missed, you, Sunny,” the wallpaper said quietly, accusingly. “Every single day I waited. Every single day I went to church and prayed that you’d get better. And then... and then... y-you... what is this? What IS this?!”

. . .

What was this?

Simple.

It was him finally realizing the truth that had been staring him in the face all along. Not the truth about what he’d done to Mari, but about what that truth meant for him: that he clearly didn’t deserve this strange second chance. Sunny was a broken, useless thing. Cracks and decay in the shape of a human being. He’d fall at the slightest wind, shatter at the softest touch. His inability to function, to even try to act as though things could ever be okay, proved as much. That’s what his scars were for; to remind him always of what he’d done and how he deserved nothing—no, worse than nothing. He’d spent so long forgetting what he’d done, reveling in an ignorance that only highlighted just how selfish and depraved he really was.

He never deserved to forget. Ever again.

That’s what the scars were for.

That’s what their purpose was.

To remind him over

and over

and over.

Sunny blinked and found that his face was wet, tears silently streaking across it. Yet even so, nothing penetrated the wall of fuzzy white around his heart, the cold, empty space that kept it cold and empty too.

“Sunny...” Aubrey whimpered. “W-why... aren’t you saying anything...?”

There was nothing to say.

“Please... s-say something...”

But he couldn’t.

“Pl...ease...”

Aubrey’s hand dropped away from his arm, falling to the floor with the rest of her. She collapsed into a crumpled, broken heap, crude sobs racking her contorted body and filling the small room.

. . .

She’d let go.

He was free now. Free to leave, to go, to do what must be done.

So why was he still standing here, staring down at the beaten girl? Why was he feeling something snap inside him, something that made him say-

“I’m sorry.”

No, no, no no no.

What was he doing?

What was he saying?

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice beginning to wobble. “I’m sorry m’sorrym’sorr...yyy...”

Now it was his turn for his voice to break, his turn to crumple on the floor and grab onto her sleeve, her arm, her body. Sunny hugged Aubrey like his life depended on it, like she was his only anchor amid a screaming, stormy sea. A tsunami of emotion washed over his entire being, threatening to drag him down and drown him in its wake. He clutched her tightly, fearfully, their weeping and tears two halves of one whole.

“M’sor...rr...yyy,” he wailed. “Mari...ang...ry...p-pushed...down...vio...lin...B-Basil...jum...prope...”

The words, their sounds stripped of meaning, kept coming, ebbing over and under their shared chorus of sobs. It didn’t matter that neither of them could really hear them, or understand them, or feel the weight they carried. They kept coming, pouring out faster and sharper than the tears streaming down both their faces.

And so it went.

And so time and thought and feeling melted away in a sea of hurt and sorrow.

It was difficult for Sunny to tell how long the two of them sat there and cried. It could’ve been a few short minutes, perhaps, but it certainly felt longer. For all he knew, they’d been there for years, crying and clinging to one another and never letting go.

But, eventually, their tears came to a stop. Slowly, gently, gradually, their sobs began to ebb, sniffles taking their place. Slowly, gently, gradually, feeling began to return to their frail, weathered bodies. Slowly, gently, gradually, they sat up, pulled apart from one another, and let themselves breathe.

. . .

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Everything

                        was going

                                               to be okay.

Slowly, gently, impossibly, Sunny felt himself begin to CALM DOWN.

. . .

The two teens sat in silence for a while, catching their breath and steadying their heartbeats. The small wooden room was still aside from their shallow, halting puffs, from the faint summer buzzing of bugs near and far.

Sunny began to think.

He’d done it again. Lost control, hurt someone he cared about. Someone who cared about him. It may have been because of numbness instead of anger this time, but it was hurt all the same. Apathy, he now realized, could be just as dangerous as being overwhelmed with emotion. Maybe even more so.

Apathy caused you to do things like unthinkingly stay in your room for four years. Apathy caused you to do things like forget to eat, to sleep instead of staying awake. Apathy caused you to do things like abandon everyone you’d once loved, to abandon the people who needed you when they needed you most.

People like Aubrey.

He snuck a glance at the pink-haired girl, at her tear-stained face, her puffy, red eyes. She had been hurt because of him. She had been trying to help, and she had been hurt because of him. Forget whatever it was he thought he did or didn’t deserve... she didn’t deserve that. And this wasn’t even the same Aubrey he’d known. This was an Aubrey that had done nothing but care deeply for him, that had missed him, that had loved him... and he’d thrown it all back in her face, all because he couldn’t come to terms with how he felt.

. . .

Sunny was tired.

He was tired of hurting people.

He was tired of hurting himself.

Of feeling like Basil’s words in that darkened blue room were true.

Of feeling like OMORI’s words in that cold white room were true.

Of thinking nobody could ever forgive him for what he’d done.

Of thinking he could never forgive himself for what he’d done.

Of believing there was no part of him left worth saving.

Of believing there was no part of life left worth savoring.

Sunny remembered Aubrey’s wish.

Not the wish of the Aubrey next to him, but a different one. The wish of an Aubrey that, beneath her blue contacts and pink hair and tough attitude, was the same dark-haired girl he’d loved so much. The wish of an Aubrey that had sat with him on the swings that day the way they’d always done, an Aubrey that had turned to him with gentle concern softening her sky-blue eyes as she said...

“I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.”

Sunny wanted to have a future. He wanted to laugh, to love, to grow old and die and see Mari and tell her all the things he’d done while she was gone. He wanted to tell her how much he’d missed her, how much he’d wished every single day that she was by his side and watching him grow.

He wanted to say that he was sorry.

He wanted it to mean something.

But...

             it was hard.

It was hard to keep living, to keep going, when all he could think about was how much pain he’d caused. It was hard to start growing when all he could think about was how little he deserved the chance to do so.

But maybe...

                        that was okay.

He wouldn’t ever forget what he’d done. His pain was a part of him now, like the hair on his head and the toes on his feet. But he didn’t need to let it define him, constrict him, destroy his path forward. He didn’t need to let it haunt him, taunt him, follow him around as a dark shape with an angry eye.

Sunny remembered Mari’s request.

Not the request of the indigo-haired Mari that had made him breakfast what felt like three million years ago, but a different one. The request of a Mari that, dressed in white so blinding it hurt to look at, he hadn’t been sure was real. The request of a Mari that had sat at that familiar piano one last time and asked him...

“You'll forgive yourself... Won't you... Sunny?”

Sunny didn’t know if he would forgive himself.

If he could forgive himself.

But he knew, now, that he was going to try.

That he needed to try.

That he couldn’t just throw everything away, not now.

Not ever.

Sunny remembered Basil’s hope.

Not the hope of the Basil that had been worried sick about him all week, but a different one. The hope of a Basil that, out of fear and desperation, had made up that terrible lie they’d both carried for oh-so-long. The hope of a Basil that, standing next to a grandmother he’d never see again, had smiled at him and whispered...

“Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.”

Sunny hadn’t thought it possible. He hadn’t thought it possible until he’d woken up in his own bed in his own room in his own house, until he’d seen his own mom and his own dad and his own sister. And even after that, he still hadn’t thought it possible because... he just hadn’t thought he’d deserved it. He’d been convinced that he was irredeemable, that he was somewhere he didn’t belong.

He’d already confronted this idea with OMORI, already beaten the monochrome boy and resolved to look forward to the future. And yet, here he was—going through this whole conversation again. It was clear to him now that this wasn’t a one-and-done issue, a simple thing that could be resolved once and would never be a problem again. It would be a constant battle, a daily struggle he’d fight over and over and over.

But this wasn’t the same kind of repressive cycle HEADSPACE had once trapped him in. It was a healthy cycle, a necessary one. One whose idea did not depress him... but energized him anew.

Sunny didn’t know how long it would take him to finally OVERCOME everything he’d been through. He didn’t know if he would ever fully reach that level, if he could ever fully quell the roiling patch of darkness in his soul.

But that was okay.

For now, that was okay.

Because, if he only let himself, he’d have tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow and the rest of his life to work himself up to that.

And he was going to let himself.

Sunny closed his eyes... and chose to PERSIST.

. . .

Was that his imagination, or did a faint piano note accompany this decision?

...Yeah. Probably the former.

Thoughts sorted and head clear, Sunny finally broke the heavy silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He said it clearly this time, deliberately.

Aubrey nodded, but did not speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, because he felt he needed to.

Another nod.

“I know you’re... confused,” he continued slowly, painstakingly, his throat raw and voice raspy from sobbing. “Truth is... so am I.”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t say anything. She knew it was time to keep quiet, that he needed to talk right now.

“When I was... sick,” he said quietly, “Had... dreams. About the last four years.” He gave Aubrey a serious look. “Bad dreams. Worst.”

He paused, shuddering.

“When I woke up...”

And here it was—the golden thread tying it all together. The small, oh-so-minute detail that was about to change everything.

“...didn’t...remember, anything.”

The words felt heavy in his mouth, raw and spiked and uncomfortable.

“Didn’t remember... how things went, after recital. Had... different memories. Never leaving my house. You joining... gang.” He coughed sharply, his throat threatening to buckle under the weight of this confession.

But he pressed on.

“Mari dead.”

Aubrey flinched.

Sunny looked her in the eyes, the dark, hazel-brown eyes he’d always thought were so much more beautiful than those tacky blue contacts.

“Mari dead,” he repeated. “Us not friends. Separate ways, separate coping.” Tears fought to swim at the corners of his vision, but he’d long since run dry; they would not come now. “This is... all I remember. Of last four years.” He looked down, resting his gaze on the worn wooden floor. “I think...”

He took a deep breath.

“I think those memories are gone.”

He’d said it.

“I think they’re never coming back.”

He’d meant it.

“I think I’m stuck like this.”

He’d known it.

“For...ever...”

He dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs, his body writhing. But even amidst the pain, Sunny couldn’t help but reflect that he still didn’t know what he was supposed to believe.

That everything that had shaped him, changed him, ruined him, was nothing more than memories borne of delirium.

That he was supposed to just wave it all away and accept his place in this smiling new world.

Because whether it all had been real or not... it had been real to him. Those memories were all he knew now, and even if they’d never actually happened, for him, they had. And that was enough. Enough to give them root, enough to give them soil.

Enough for him to care.

Enough for him to never want to let go.

Those memories, and the pain they carried, were part of what made up him, part of the million little pieces that made up Sunny Suzuki—the broken boy who hoped that, someday, he might just find a way to mend the cracks that had spread within.

And if he was to live... here, in this strange and twisted world, then his friends—the people who thought they were his friends—needed to know all about that. They needed to know the real Sunny, the Sunny that was held together by darkness and rot and anger... and hope.

Even if it changed everything.

Even if they thought he was crazy.

Even if they left him behind.

Even if Aubrey left him behind.

It was the hospital all over again. It was everything all over again. Except this time, he had so much more to lose. Mari’s presence. Aubrey’s affection. Basil’s concern.

He could forget all about it. Repress everything the way he’d once done, live the rest of his life in blissful ignorance. But that would be no different from retreating to HEADSPACE, and he could never allow himself to do something like that.

For better or worse, Sunny was done running away.

But he couldn’t just tell Aubrey the whole truth here, now. He had to tell everyone, make sure he didn’t lose his wit. It had been hard enough confessing it all once, back in that bright hospital room. There was no way he had that in him five more times. It was already taking everything he had to get this far, and he really didn’t want to backslide, to ruin all the progress he was making.

. . .

He was making progress, right?

He... he had to be. He’d decided to live. That was good, wasn’t it?

Even though he still felt like crying and like his insides were trying to rip themselves out of his body and like the weight on his chest was trying to suffocate him like he deserved, he was making progress.

He had to believe that.

. . .

Sunny was a little sick of having to believe things.

Why couldn’t the answer just be simple for once? Was that really too much to-

OUCH!

A sharp pain brought him rather suddenly back to reality. Aubrey’s hand was raised, her face flushed in shame.

“S-sorry,” she said, voice hoarse. “You were just... out. I-I didn’t know what to do.”

Sunny nodded.

Aubrey lowered her arm, then her eyes.

“You know,” she began, “you’re... really starting to worry me here.” She looked up at him, her expression so confused and miserable and afraid that Sunny’s heart threatened to burst through his chest. “Do you really not remember anything?”

Sunny shook his head.

Aubrey swallowed.

“And you think it’s because of the fever.”

Sunny gave her a small shrug. He... really didn’t know.

Aubrey opened her mouth, then closed it, letting out a small breath.

“M’sorry,” Sunny finally mumbled, averting his gaze. “I know you... loved me, before.” Before he was broken. He closed his eyes. “Wish I could... remember it. For you.” He thought for a moment, then quietly added, “For me.”

A short silence followed, and Sunny began to think he’d said the wrong thing. Even though he’d been pretty sure there weren't any better choices.

But then Aubrey sucked in a very, very deep breath.

“Okay,” she said, her voice small and wobbly and unsure. “Okay.” She looked him in the eyes, the fear and confusion melting away just a little to make room for determination. “If... you really don’t remember anything...”

She took another deep breath.

“Then, I-I... we’ll start over.”

Sunny blinked.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you,” Aubrey continued, her voice becoming more and more steady, “and why you were being so... hard, on yourself. But you... earlier, you told me that you weren’t who I thought you were.”

He did say that, yes. Because it was true.

“Well,” Aubrey said, “do you want to know who I think you are?”

She brushed a few loose strands of hair behind an ear.

“Because I think you’re empathetic and smart. I think you’re selfless and caring. I think you’re snarky and funny and have a beautiful smile you never use often enough. I think you’re a good listener, a great friend, and the best partner I ever could’ve asked for.” She looked him in the eyes again, and Sunny saw fire behind hers. “That’s who I think you are. That’s who I think Sunny is. Even if you don’t think so.”

It was a good speech, it really was.

There was just one small problem.

She was talking about somebody else.

But Aubrey didn’t seem to care. “So... I don’t know what’s gotten into you, if it’s that stupid fever or what, but I’m not letting you stay like this. Even if we have to start over from the very beginning.”

It was a generous offer, certainly. Especially since she didn’t know the true depths of his “memories”, and the bloodstained picture they painted. But that would come in due time. Not worth worrying about for now.

“Even if we’re not... together, anymore,” Aubrey continued. “Even if we’re just friends.”

Sunny felt a pang of guilt at this. Once again, he’d been too busy focusing on his own problems to remember how they affected others. Aubrey had been dating him—if it had really been him; he still didn’t have much in the way of confirmation on what was really going on here—for a while already, and now, because of his own issues, he was forcing her to throw that away.

He really did have a knack for hurting the people that tried to love him.

“Don’t... have to,” he found himself saying.

Aubrey frowned. “What was that? You’re being really quiet.”

Sunny inhaled. “Don’t... have to,” he repeated, forcing himself to be louder. “Throw it all away.”

Before he could change his mind, he reached over and took Aubrey’s hand in his.

. . .

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting it to feel like. Probably something closer to just... skin, no different from him touching his other hand. Definitely not like tiny little thunderbolts were racing up his arm and spreading warmth through it.

What was up with this “love” stuff?

He dropped Aubrey’s hand like a hotcake, quickly massaging his own. He half-expected to see scorch marks or something.

“Wow,” he blurted.

Aubrey laughed. It was a nice sound, the first bit of real warmth the small room had seen all day. “God, I forgot how touch-starved you were at first,” she said, snorting. “I kinda missed it, to be honest.” The smirk faded, and she sobered a little. “But I don’t want you to push yourself for my sake. If you’re not comfortable with this...”

Sunny honestly didn’t know if he was comfortable with this or not. This was all so new to him, so exotic and unknown... and terrifying.

But he was going to give it a try.

For Aubrey’s sake, he was going to give it a try.

“S’okay,” he said, trying to sound more sure than he felt.

Aubrey stared hard at him for a moment, as though she was trying to pluck his thoughts from his face. “Alright,” she said finally. “But we’ll take it slow. And I want you to be honest with me if you feel uncomfortable.”

Sunny nodded. That was reasonable.

Aubrey managed a fairly genuine smile. “Thank you for talking to me, Sunny,” she said. “I know that must’ve been hard for you.”

Sunny stiffened a little. She’d just reminded him of something.

“Aubrey?” he asked quietly, looking away.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown. “Yeah?”

Sunny shut his eyes, organizing the words in his head.

“There’s... something I need to tell you,” he said. “You, and... everyone else. Together.” He opened his eyes, risking a glance at her. “Something... important.”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed a little. “O...kay,” she said, clearly a bit confused.

Sunny swallowed, letting his voice rest for a moment. “Just wanted you t’know,” he said. “So you can be... prepared.”

Aubrey nodded, perhaps in lieu of a better response. “If you say so,” she replied. After a few moments, she added, “Do... you want to talk about it now, at all?”

Sunny shook his head violently.

Aubrey sighed. “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

Phew. Alright. That had been a lot more difficult than he’d thought it would be, but he’d done it. He’d made a conscious, concrete step forward, towards recovery... or whatever other fate awaited him, anyway.

He wanted to be proud of himself. Happy that he really was making tangible progress. But after everything that had happened today, he didn’t think he could handle feeling a single proper emotion without collapsing in exhaustion.

Aubrey cleared her throat. “Alright,” she said. “I think we should go back. Mari’s probably really worried about you.”

That was true enough. He gave her a small nod, and the pink-haired girl got up and walked over to the ladder.

She paused in front of it, turning back to him one last time. “Sunny. I know this is really hard and scary for you, but... you’re going to be okay. I know you will.” She exhaled a little. “We’re here for you, alright? You can get through this.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

She clambered down the ladder and out of sight. Rather than following her straight away, Sunny opted to sit in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.

So Aubrey knew the truth now. Well, not the truth, truth, but the whole ‘Sorry-but-I-don’t-actually-remember-being-your-boyfriend’ thing. And yet, even despite that, she’d chosen to stay by his side. To give him the chance to start over, to redefine what the two of them meant to each other.

Was it genuine, or was she blinded by her misplaced love? If his other “friends” knew that he didn’t remember most of their time together, how would they react? Mari hadn’t really even been given the chance to process it herself; Aubrey showing up had kind of interrupted things.

Oh, who was he kidding. This was Kel, Hero, and Basil he was talking about. Sure, they’d be shocked and dismayed when they found out what had happened, but they wouldn’t just abandon him over that. They’d do their best to encourage and be there for him, even though once he told them the full truth and just how disgusting and depraved he really was they’d leave him behind withou

Sunny’s train of thought was stopped not by himself, but by something else. Something that made his blood run cold, that caused a heavy chill to settle over his body as he stared disbelievingly ahead.

He slowly crossed the wooden room, stopping before the photo that shouldn’t be taped to the wall.

. . .

Why was it still here?

Logically, it was supposed to be in Basil’s album, with all the others. There was no reason for it to be here, in the treehouse.

No reason except...

With trembling hands, Sunny grasped the photo, pulling it off the wall. Heart pounding in his chest, he flipped it over.

No.

No no no no no no NO NO NO.

This didn’t make sense. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t possible.

Why was the key still here?

Why was the key still here?

Chapter Text

Sunny stared at the key.

He wished he couldn’t do that. That there was no key to stare at, no photo to grasp with shaking hands. Yet there it was, silver and tarnished and quite unmistakably there, despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise.

There was no reason for it to be here. No reason at all, not a single one that meant anything good.

So why

                was it still

                                    here?

His grip on the small paper tightened, and it began to bend slightly.

So the photo was still here, and the key was, too. But that... that didn’t have to mean anything on its own, right? Not if Mari was here, and everything was okay. Everyone was okay.

So there had to be a logical, rational explanation for this. There had to be.

Like...

...like...

...maybe...

...what if...

. . .

Ugh.

It was no use. Try as he might, he just couldn’t come up with anything that worked, anything that made even the smallest modicum of sense.

It certainly didn’t help that the inscription on the back was different.

You

 know  what

                 to do

And it was right—he did know what to do. He just didn’t know why.

What could possibly be in the toy box this time around?

What secret was this perfect little world hiding?

Whose secret?

Sunny didn’t want to find out. He wanted to just throw the photo out the window and forget about all of this, to climb down that ladder and rejoin Aubrey and Mari and pretend that everything was going to be fine and okay and normal. But he’d already tried to repress his problems before, and that hadn’t exactly worked out so well for him in the past. He’d been telling himself over and over that he was going to stop running away, and it seemed like that new philosophy was about to be put to the test.

So even though it felt like every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do otherwise, he carefully removed the key and slid both it and the photo into his pocket.

. . .

Right.

He... should go, now. Aubrey was probably starting to get worried.

Firmly pushing the contents of his pockets out of his mind, he made his way down the ladder and into the small clearing behind his backyard. Aubrey was already waiting for him, her face lighting up when he finally emerged. Mari was there, too, and the moment his feet touched the ground, she rushed over and enveloped him in a tight bear hug.

“M’fine,” he wheezed, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. “Leggo.”

“You are not ‘fine’,” Mari told him, her voice managing to somehow be both gentle and firm at the same time. “You had two panic attacks in the span of a few hours, your memories are all jumbled and messed up, and you just woke up from a week-long fever.” She sighed, mercifully releasing him and allowing air back into his lungs. “I really should’ve pushed Mom and Dad harder. You need to rest, Sunny. This is ridiculous.”

Sunny couldn’t really argue with her, even though he kind of wanted to. So he said nothing and let the indigo-haired girl lead him back through the trees.

As they walked, he pointedly avoided looking at a very specific oak that, in a previous lifetime, may have once been considered a favorite.

No longer, though.

They reached the sliding glass door, stepping back inside the Suzuki residence.

Mewo looked over at them from her perch atop the couch, mewing loudly. Sunny thought he saw something resembling concern in her feline eyes, but he was probably imagining it.

“I think that was a good choice,” Mari said, rather abruptly.

Sunny shot her a questioning look.

“To tell Aubrey,” his sister clarified. “About your whole... memory situation.”

The dark-haired boy nodded. He’d thought it was a good choice, too. She’d more than deserved to know why her partner was suddenly acting so strangely. And that her partner... might not be her partner, though the jury was still out on that one.

Aubrey shuddered. “I... God,” she mumbled, looking away. “If you hadn’t told me, and I kept trying to be all flirty with you...” she made a face. “Yeah, no. Really don’t want to think about it.”

Mari pursed her lips. “You did kiss him,” she reminded her.

Aubrey winced. “Shoot, I forgot about that,” she groaned. She turned to her victim, face creased in pained remorse. “Sunny. I’m really sorry.”

Sunny just shrugged, inclining his head slightly. “S’fine,” he replied quietly. “Didn’t know.” And also it really hadn’t been that bad actually in fact it was the best thing he’d ever experienced in his life and why exactly wasn’t he kissing her right now again?

...Well, maybe it wasn’t completely fine, if it meant awakening all these thoughts he had to keep ignoring. But all things considered, there were much worse things he could be thinking about, like just how deeply he didn’t deserve to be here and how even if every inch of his worthless skin was branded with a flaming iron it wouldn’t equal one thousandth of the punishment he deserved for being such a disgusting useless depraved piece of

. . .

Yeah.

Things like that.

He sighed to himself. The road to recovery was going to be a long one...

“Kids?” Mrs. Suzuki’s voice called, breaking through his inner din. “Oh, you’re all in here.” A moment later, his mother and father stepped into the room, their faces uncharacteristically grim.

“There’s been a... change of plans,” Mr. Suzuki said, his voice laced with frustration. “Our wonderful employers have decided it’s just imperative that we’re on-site for the next few days.”

Mari frowned. “Again? ” she wondered, her disbelief evident. “I thought you guys got that whole promotion a few months ago that let you work from home.”

Mr. Suzuki gritted his teeth. “So did I,” he replied.

Mrs. Suzuki cleared her throat. “It’s only for three days,” she said placatingly, her conciliations perhaps directed more towards her husband than her children. “And we’re not going very far, just into the city.” She dragged her fingers across her scalp. “I know it’s not... ideal, considering Sunny’s current condition, but-”

“M’fine,” Sunny interrupted her.

Mother and sister both opened their mouths at the same time, but Mari beat her to the punch. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, incredulous. “Sunny, you literally just-”

“Fine.” He punctuated the word with a sharp, harsh glare that bore a clear message: Don’t you dare tell Mom about that.

Sunny was sick of being treated like this. Like he was this fragile, damaged thing that needed to be handled with extreme care. He wasn’t ill, he wasn’t broken, he WASN’T broken, he wasn’t. Sure, his memories might be a little bit mixed up, and his brain might be spending half its time trying to convince him that he was worthless and disgusting and nothing more than a patch of darkness cloaked in human flesh, but he wasn’t a little kid. He was fifteen, and...

...and...

. . .

Oh.

Oh, dear.

He was fifteen.

Not twelve. Not thirteen or even fourteen.

He was fifteen years old.

Sunny hadn’t really thought about his age very much. He’d had quite a bit to deal with over the last few days, and that topic hadn’t exactly felt like a very pressing issue at the time.

So it was only now, with despairing clarity, that he realized the true depths of what he had been through.

Before,

                he’d been twelve.

But now,

                  he was fifteen.

Almost four years.

He’d spent almost four years locked up in his house. Almost four years lying in bed, lying to himself about what he’d done and who he’d hurt.

A quarter of his life.

He’d wasted a quarter of his life.

Sunny felt a profound sadness wash over him, a sense of loss so deep and hollow it seemed to manifest around his body as tiny flecks of blue light. The flecks danced to an invisible rhythm, to the marching and moving of time that never, but never, ceased to be.

Voices floated to his ears from a world away.

Sleeping arrangements.

House keys.

His parents trusted Mari, but felt it would be best if there was a proper adult around in case anything happened.

Sunny was to stay at Aubrey’s house.

Sunny was to get dressed and gather his things.

Sunny was to alert someone immediately if he felt unwell or that something was wrong.

Sunny was to-

“...get all that?” Mari was asking him, frowning. Sunny blinked to find that his parents had left the room, presumably to prepare for their unexpected trip. His sister studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought...”

He was tempted to reply that yes, he actually did get most of it, even if some of the specifics had been lost on him. He hadn’t been fully spacing out; he liked to think he was getting a little better at not doing that so much.

His sister couldn’t quite hear his thoughts, though, so she simply clapped her hands. “You’re staying at Aubrey’s, I’m staying here to hold down the fort,” she told him, somewhat unnecessarily. She gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “You should go and get dressed.”

Get... dressed.

Right.

It probably would make sense to change into something that wasn’t bunny PJs, wouldn’t it.

His brow furrowed suddenly. Wait, he was staying at Aubrey’s house? That... couldn’t be right. Last he’d checked, that place wasn’t very equipped to host much of anything, aside from the mountains of rancid trash that were piled everywhere.

He shot the pink-haired girl a confused look, stopping to note the utter serenity in her expression. She was appraising him intently, seemingly thinking hard about something.

“You know,” she said finally, tilting her head, “you always look so peaceful when you’re zoning out like that.”

Sunny’s heart instantly melted at the soft, endearing smile on her face, and all his previous doubts suddenly evaporated.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all...

With a slight grimace, he brought himself crashing back down to earth. Intellect over infatuation, he reminded himself sternly. Even if he and Aubrey had resolved to be more open with each other, he still needed his head to be as clear as possible, to keep the tracks of his mental trains of thought as well-oiled as he could manage.

After what had just happened, he really couldn’t afford to lose himself again.

Giving his sister a small nod, Sunny turned and left, making his way back to his room. Regardless of where he was staying, he needed to get dressed. It’d be nice to be wearing something that wasn’t bright pink. And Aubrey’s.

...Seriously, though. He was staying at her house?

He couldn’t help but frown a little as he carefully climbed up the stairs. It just didn’t make sense that his parents would send him off to sleep in a miniature garbage dump. There had to be something he was missing.

He froze suddenly, one leg still raised above the second-to-last step.

Did they... not know about her situation?

Aubrey had always been notoriously closed about her home life. It had taken a particularly bad fight between her parents, one that had nearly landed one of them in the hospital, for her to even open up to him about it.

But she did.

And she’d told him everything.

The shouting.

The fighting.

The fear.

Sunny had been horrified. He’d begged her to tell someone, anyone that could help, but she’d stubbornly refused.

So he’d done the next-best thing.

Aubrey’s eyes, red and watery from mountains of tears, widened momentarily. “R-really?” she asked, amidst a small hiccup. “You’d... you’d really...”

Sunny nodded, waiting expectantly.

Aubrey looked at the small purple plushie in his outstretched hand, the pain and worry in her face lessening just a little.

“But isn’t he one of your favorites?”

Sunny hesitated, but only for a moment.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “But... You. More important to me.” He firmly pressed it into her hands. “Yours now.”

Aubrey lifted the small purple eggplant up, the golden glow of the setting sun just barely skimming across its fuzzy green top.

“Name’s Mr. Plantegg,” Sunny told her. “Take good care-”

The dark-haired girl suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, shocking the rest of his words right out of him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her tears, now running slowly down the back of his shirt, were no longer borne solely of sadness, but of joy as well.

“Thank you so much...”

Sunny said nothing, fighting his own watering eyes.

“You’re... a great f-friend, Sunny,” she told him softly. “I just... I want you to know that, okay?”

He tried to nod, but his head was practically nestled into her shoulder.

“Please,” he mumbled, trying to keep his voice stable. “Stay... safe.”

Aubrey hugged him tighter. “I’ll do my best,” she murmured, the newfound determination in her voice unmistakable.

“For you.”

Sunny blinked, staring blankly at the door to his room.

He’d walked up to it without realizing, it seemed.

For a few more moments, he just stood there, lost in old memories.

Then he snapped himself out of it, briskly entering his room.

...It was funny.

Even though he’d already been here—wherever here even was, anyway—for a bit already, when he’d opened the door, he’d still expected to find this place near-empty. To find a pile of cardboard boxes leaning against the wall.

To find only one bed.

But, for better or worse, the small room was exactly the same as it had been when he’d woken up in it that morning.

. . .

Well.

It was time to get dressed.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he opened his wardrobe, so he was surprised to realize he was... disappointed, when all he found was his usual spread of vests, dress shirts, and lesser-used polos. It made enough sense, he supposed, carefully swapping Aubrey’s pink pajamas for simple gray sweatpants and a black short-sleeve T-shirt. Just because the rest of the world seemed misaligned from how he thought it should be didn’t mean the smaller details needed to change. It wasn’t like the house’s layout was any different, or the color of the sky had shifted.

. . .

The house.

The key and photo lay atop his bed, freshly extracted from the pink pajama pockets. Sunny couldn’t shake the feeling that they were mocking him, silently taunting him from their comfortable perch below.

He wanted to just keep ignoring them. To keep pretending that key wasn’t real, wasn’t sitting there, wasn’t waiting for him to pick it up and put it where it belonged. But he didn’t have the luxury of forcing things out of his head anymore, so he knew, no matter how hard he tried, that it would keep popping into his head, unbidden.

Until it was taken care of.

Sweeping the two objects off his bed and into his pocket once more, he shut the lights of his room, silently exiting it. He climbed down the stairs, gingerly putting one foot in front of the other. He swung past the banister, heading quietly towards one his least favorite places in the world.

. . .

A black door casts a heavy shadow.

What would you like to do?

Upon closer inspection, Sunny instantly realized that something was wrong. Rather than merely sporting a worn gray doorknob, the door’s smooth, cold surface was also broken by something new.

A lock.

It was cast in a silver similar to the key in his pocket and set sharply into the dark, stormy wood. As he stared at it, he got the distinct sense that the key wasn’t meant for the toy box at all, but the door itself.

He stared at the door for a few moments, almost feeling as though it were pulsing, beating, alive. As though a faint thrumming stung his ears, as though a faint energy was radiating from the space beneath the blackened planks.

As though he was about to make a very, very big mistake.

Sunny pulled the key out of his pocket.

“NO!”

Something grabbed his arm, pulling it away.

“Sunny,” his sister said, her voice sharp as a needle, “please... do NOT... go in there.”

. . .

Sunny turned to stare at her, his eyes slowly narrowing.

Why couldn’t he go in the closet? There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that, should there?

Why was Mari being so forceful with him?

Why did she look so... AFRAID?

Maybe he should fight her. Pull his arm away, force the door open.

Maybe he should-

Mari took a deep breath. “Dad was cleaning it out the other day and found an entire spider’s nest in there,” she explained, straightening a little. “And not just regular ones, either—tarantulas.” She shuddered. “I really wouldn’t recommend going in there until we’ve got that sorted out. I know how scared you are of spiders, after all...”

. . .

Oh.

Sunny let out a small breath, the tension trickling out of his body.

That... was a surprisingly simple explanation, actually. And a credible one, too. Nests like this were actually pretty common in Faraway (something he had a feeling Hero was blissfully unaware of), and he distinctly remembered one summer where Basil’s grandmother had needed to call in some big deal exterminators from the city to clean up their attic.

Unbeknownst to Mari, he wasn’t quite afraid of spiders anymore, or at least not nearly as much as he used to be. But that didn’t mean he wanted to run into them voluntarily, and especially not ones as large as tarantulas.

. . .

Why had he felt so insistent on opening this door, again? Just moments ago, he could’ve sworn it seemed like the most important thing in the world, but now...

Now he just felt stupid.

Mari frowned. “Where did you even find that?” she asked, tilting her head at the tarnished silver key in his palm. “We’ve been looking for the spare for weeks.”

Sunny wasn’t really sure what to say. Oh, yeah, it was just conveniently taped behind a photo inside the treehouse for some reason. It even came with a free creepy note, too!

He shrugged.

Mari blinked.

“Okay then,” she said, almost under her breath. After a moment, she added, “Well... if you’re ready to go, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

. . .

Sunny looked at the dark door, at the stained, impossible key sitting so unassumingly in his hand.

Mari wasn’t here anymore. He could open it, but...

...what was even the point?

Things were fine right now. Confusing, certainly, but fine. More fine than they’d been in a long, long time. Why did it matter what was or wasn’t in a stupid old closet? Why did it matter if someone had left a strange, eerily familiar note in the treehouse?

If he thought long enough, hard enough, he was sure he’d eventually be able to come up with a reasonable explanation for all of this. Because there had to be one. There just did.

So why bother?

Decision made, Sunny slid the key firmly back into his pocket. It wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. It wasn’t like he couldn’t come back later and open it if he really wanted to. He was just... not doing it now. Because he wasn’t really in the mood to meet a bunch of tarantulas, and there were also far more important things to do at the moment.

Like meeting his sister in the kitchen.

Sunny swiftly made his way through the rest of the house, stepping into the small room where, indeed, Mari was waiting for him.

She was also armed and dangerous.

“I’ll be quick,” she said quietly, raising the small silver instrument. He felt the cold yet unmistakable press of its barrel against his forehead.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

BEEP!

“97.5,” Mari announced, reading out the numbers on her handheld thermometer. “You’re officially good to go.”

That was... good, he supposed. It wouldn’t really do to get anyone else sick, especially if the fever he’d been suffering from actually was some kind of mutant strand that systematically distorted one’s memories.

Because that, uh. Would definitely need to remain contained.

His sister frowned suddenly. “I’m still not convinced it’s a great idea for you to be staying somewhere else, though,” she said. “What if you have another episode?”

. . .

Sunny wanted to say that it wouldn’t happen again. That he had it all under control now, and there was nothing to worry about.

But he knew better.

He knew that it was impossible to know if something might set him off, might send him spiraling right back down that dark, deadly path. One thing that had become increasingly clear to him during all this was that there had been real, tangible, lasting effects from what he’d gone through, and they would only get worse the longer he tried to ignore them. He might not be broken, but he definitely wasn’t... whole, either, and he had to be aware of that. He had to be mindful of that.

He couldn’t keep putting everyone else in compromising situations just because he wanted to feel like he was okay. That just wasn’t fair to them, and he knew that. Really, he did.

But it was so much easier to say that, to know that, than to feel that way. It was so much easier to simply whisper those words in his mind than to act on them, to truly push everyone away once again. Because, if he really searched himself, he knew he would find yet another bitter truth he didn’t want to confront.

He couldn’t do this alone.

He quite literally couldn’t trust himself on his own right now. If he did have another episode, and there was no one around to help him...

. . .

Sunny didn’t want to think about what might happen.

What had almost happened.

What would’ve happened, if Aubrey hadn’t shown up when she did.

He didn’t want to think about his corpse, broken and twisted on the floor. He didn’t want to think about the vicious red pooling at his limp feet, the earsplitting screams of those foolish enough to love him as they stared uncomprehendingly at

Sunny shuddered violently, shoving the repulsive idea as far away as he could.

He really wished his mind would stop conjuring up images like that.

. . .

Oh.

He’d... spaced out again, hadn’t he.

Ears flushing in shame, Sunny forced himself back to reality, coming face-to-face with a very exasperated Mari.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, wilting. “Zoned... out.”

Mari just stared at him for a moment, seemingly unsure what to do or say, before finally opening her mouth.

“Oh, come on,” Aubrey interjected suddenly, cutting her off. “Mari, just look at him. He’s miserable.”

The pink-haired girl was leaning against the nearby countertop, a familiar expression of quiet determination on her face.

“He’s barely holding himself together,” she continued, “he’s been asleep in bed for a whole week, he doesn’t remember anything, and he feels lost and afraid.” She paused, giving the older Suzuki an imploring look. “Don’t you think it would be good for him to get out a little? Feel the sunshine, have some room to breathe?”

Mari looked uncertain. “Well...”

But Aubrey wasn’t done. “Besides,” she said empathetically, “if Sunny does have another episode, I’ll be there to calm him down.” She gave him a brief, sideways glance. “Like I just did.”

Sunny replied with a small nod that was both affirmative and grateful. If it came down to it, she would follow through with that. He knew she would.

He could only hope it wouldn’t be necessary.

Mari was mulling over Aubrey’s words, a conflicted look on her face.

She opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Then sighed.

“You’re right,” she admitted finally. She turned towards her younger brother, her face breaking into an uneasy frown. “I just... I’m really worried about you, Sunny. You’re out for an entire week, and then suddenly your memories don’t make any sense, and you keep falling to pieces with no warning...”

She exhaled deeply, seeming to deflate a little.

“But Aubrey’s right—I can’t lock you up and chain you to your bed just because I’m afraid. That’s not being fair to you.”

Well.

He couldn’t really disagree with that.

“So... I’m sorry, Sunny,” Mari finished.

. . .

The dark-haired boy almost wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Here he was, listening to his big sister apologize to him... because she’d cared about him too much.

The same sister that he, worthless and depraved as he was, had thoughtlessly shoved-

...actually.

He wasn’t particularly in the mood to enter another anti-self spiral right now. Better to nip that one in the bud while he still could.

“S’okay,” he said aloud, shifting his feet slightly. “Don’t have to apologize.”

Mari wasn’t quite satisfied. “But-”

“Nope,” Sunny cut her off firmly. “Were just... trying to help.” His tone left no room for argument.

Mari raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” she relented. “If you insist...”

A short silence fell in the small room, but it was quickly broken by Aubrey.

“I meannn,” she chimed in suddenly, a mischievous smirk slowly snaking across her face, “if you still feel guilty, we wouldn’t mind a fresh batch or two of cookies.” She placed an elbow on the countertop behind her, resting it there. “Just throwing out a suggestion.”

Mari appeared to actually consider it. “You know what?” she replied. “We’ll see...”

“KIDS?” a voice called from another room. “SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR PARENTS!”

Mari pursed her lips. “...We’d better go do that,” she said.

Sunny nodded, and the three of them quickly made their way into the living room.

The Suzuki parents were all ready to go, dressed in their work best. Mr. Suzuki’s frustration hadn’t stopped him from picking his favorite gray suit, though it may have contributed towards his rather worn tie. Mrs. Suzuki had thrown on a simple yet stylish black jacket.

The two of them had a sort of... synergy, together. A certain sense of cohesiveness, of belonging with one another. He somehow hadn’t really noticed it before, or at least thought about it very much. But something about seeing them like this, ready to leave for work together...

For a moment, Sunny found himself picturing him and Aubrey in their place, his face wizened and adorned with stubble. Then he quickly caught himself, hoping no one would notice the subtle red flush that had undoubtedly decided to make his ears its home.

“Where are you guys even going to be staying?” Mari asked, a slight note of concern in her voice.

Mrs. Suzuki tilted her chin slightly. “Your father has some old friends in the city,” she replied.

Mr. Suzuki frowned. “Still can’t believe I had to phone a friend to find somewhere to stay because of work,” he muttered. He paused, shaking himself a little. “But it’ll be alright,” he said louder. “After all, it is just three... days.” He smiled, or at least made an attempt to. “You’ll behave yourselves, won’t you?”

Sunny nodded.

His father turned to him and, before he could react, pulled him into a quick hug.

“Stay safe,” he said gently.

Sunny swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.

“Yeah,” he choked out.

Then,

            “...Love you, dad.”

His father smiled. For real this time.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

Mrs. Suzuki looked between the two of them, her face slipping into a mock frown. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“I think,” Mari said slowly, “that this calls... for a group hug!” This statement triggered various groans from those assembled. “Oh, come on, I know you all want to. Everyone, get in here—and I mean everyone, Aubrey, I see you edging away! It’s not like you aren’t going to be family later anyway~”

The pink-haired girl’s face flushed red. “D-don’t say things like that,” she muttered, stalking over to her ‘big sister’.

The hug was brief yet tender, like a fresh dewdrop that would soon lose itself in the grass below.

And then it was over, and it was time to go.

“Good luck,” Mari told her parents as they stepped through the open door.

“Thanks, honey,” her mother replied. “Be good! Stay safe!”

The two siblings and their friend watched as the elder Suzikis piled themselves into their small gray car. 

The engine ignited.

It pulled out of the driveway.

And then it was gone.

. . .

Well.

That was that.

Mari was silent for a few moments, staring in the direction of the door without really seeing it.

Then she snapped out of her reverie. “Alright,” she said briskly. “You two should get going. If you’re hungry, Aubrey should have food at her house. I also might come by later and drop some things off, like your clothing—no, don’t look at me like that, Sunny, I wasn’t going to make you carry it all across town—and if you need anything, I’ll be here. You know where to find me.”

Aubrey nodded. “Thanks, Mari,” she said, patting the indigo-haired girl on the shoulder. “I’ll take good care of Sunny for you.”

Sunny couldn’t help but blush a little at that. Something about the way she’d said it, and the images it conjured in his mind of him lying in bed as Aubrey brought him food, and took his temperature, and oh right he was not supposed to be doing this again.

Aubrey began to head for the door, hesitating suddenly.

She turned towards him, offering her hand.

You don’t have to, her expression said. I won’t be mad if you don’t.

But I want you to.

. . .

Did he want to?

Was this something he wanted, really wanted?

He... still wasn’t entirely sure about how he felt about Aubrey.

One one hand, his brain was clearly infatuated to no end with her, something that was abundantly clear from the fact it took every possible opportunity to dream up fantasy after fantasy.

But on the other, there was still so much separating that from the true reality.

His missing memories.

His jumbled feelings.

His lack of experience.

What if he did something wrong? Made a mistake?

It would be so much easier, safer, to decline. To shake his head and walk out that door side-by-side, yet separately.

But he wouldn’t.

Because he’d promised.

So, even though he didn’t know whether he truly wanted this, if it would prove to be a good decision or his worst mistake yet...

He reached over and, after a moment’s pause, took her hand in his.

One way or another, he was about to find out.

Chapter Text

Sunny didn’t really hear Aubrey bid Mari farewell.

He didn’t really feel the two of them slowly step out the open door, didn’t really register the sound of it firmly closing behind them. He didn’t really feel the warm summer sun shining on his skin, didn’t really see the familiar town he’d just stepped foot into.

How could he?

His mind was dominated, eclipsed, by the mere fact that Aubrey’s hand was gently clasped within his. This simple action seemed to swell to macrocosmic proportions, drowning out world and voice and thought. Because it wasn’t just her hand he was holding; he was holding her, her very essence, and it was sending lightning bolts of warmth through his hand, his arm, his body.

His soul.

He’d experienced a brief taste of this feeling before, in the treehouse, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the sheer, unfiltered rush of sensation, of connection, that he was experiencing right now. It was so strong, so potent, that he was afraid he might drown in its wake.

That he was already drowning.

Unable to help it, Sunny closed his eyes, fully giving in to the feeling. He reveled in its intensity, in how safe and wonderful and complete it made him feel.

The back of his mind whispered something, vaguely. A promise he’d forgotten, a self-maxim he’d pledged to uphold. Something about not losing himself.

But he didn’t care.

Not anymore.

All he wanted to do was soak in this personal Eden.

Here, nothing would hurt him.

Here, he was okay.

Here, he would always be okay.

Had there been a before, to all of this? A world before this cozy, infinite bliss? He found he couldn’t remember. Couldn’t bring himself to care.

And then the warmth vanished.

Sunny was plunged coldly, unforgivingly, back into reality. All at once, he was assaulted by sense—sights, smells, sounds. The hot, beating sun did little to soothe the ice-cold ache that had overtaken his body, the ice-cold ache that seemed to melt right down to his bones.

Amidst the summer heat, he shivered.

He blinked and became aware of Aubrey watching him, studying him. Her brow was furrowed in confusion, her face scrunched in concern.

“Sunny?” she tried. “I... kinda lost you for a minute there.”

In lieu of a response, his eyes instead dropped to her empty hand, the one he’d been holding moments before.

He knew that what he was thinking, feeling, was wrong. That it wasn’t smart, safe, sensible. That it had no place in his sterile, logic-oriented world.

But he just

                     didn’t

                                   care.

“Warm,” said Sunny finally, hungrily staring at her still-empty hand.

Aubrey frowned.

“Uh,” she said, tilting her head a little. “Pardon?”

The disconcertion in her voice needled him, rousing him just a little. He blinked again, his unfocused, dreamlike gaze finding its way to her befuddled face and snapping him out of his sudden reverie.

. . .

Well.

That had gone just about as terribly as it possibly could’ve.

He quite literally went from having convinced himself he could make this work to a near-total vegetative state over the course of a few seconds’ worth of hand-holding. The two of them were now standing in front of the Rodriguez’s empty driveway; a quick, on-the-spot calculation, including the time it took to exit their house and shut the door behind them, came out to just about five or so seconds of hand-to-hand contact.

Five.

Seconds.

It had taken no more than five seconds for him to completely lose himself, to find himself completely submerged in the sheer bliss that was... what? Just what was it that made this “love” thing so ridiculously potent?

It was so endlessly frustrating. Why couldn’t everything just operate on logic? Why was he forced to deal with esoteric forces beyond his comprehension?

And why did indulging in them feel like the best thing in the world?

He’d thought that kiss earlier had been amazing incredible bad enough, but it was all too obvious now that he must’ve still been in some level of shock at the time and not received the full brunt of its effects. Because, well, if five seconds of clear-minded handholding was enough to do this...

Then a proper kiss from Aubrey would probably scatter his molecules throughout the universe.

Luckily for his molecular integrity, though, the pink-haired girl didn’t exactly look like she was about to suddenly do that anytime soon.

“Sunny. Speak to me,” she urged him.

. . .

He, uh. Should probably do that.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “Was just... overwhelmed.”

If he was being honest with himself, really honest with himself, he probably should’ve expected something like this to happen. It wasn’t exactly rocket science that being holed up in his room for four years wouldn’t have the most favorable effect on his level of touch sensitivity. Touch-starved was a painful understatement; he’d practically forgotten what the sensation had felt like, really felt like.

Even HEADSPACE hadn’t been the best reminder of that, though incidentally, this was actually by design. OMORI as a form was meant to dull things, taper them. Emotions, pain, physical sensations; they were all softened, blunted, to give himself a certain level of detachment from the colorful world around him. He was always able to feel just enough to be immersed in whatever adventure he found himself on while simultaneously maintaining just enough disengagement from it that, if the need arose, he could instantly pull himself back to safety with no consequence at all.

It was a fairly genius system, really. Sunny might’ve even felt proud of himself for it, if it hadn’t been the very same system that had helped him abandon and lie to his friends for four entire years. It did kind of lose a few points for that.

. . .

Goodness gracious was he a pro at getting himself sidetracked. Time to get things back on course.

Sunny forced himself to look back at Aubrey, to open his mouth and continue the conversation.

“You overwhelm me a lot,” he blurted.

.  .  .

The dark-haired boy wanted to slap himself.

Where had THAT come from?? He’d just meant to say something simple, something safe. Something like “Sorry, I’m still a bit tired. Let’s keep moving”, or maybe “My head’s bit fuzzy, but I’m sure it’ll clear up soon”. Not something like this. Something that forced him to confront things he didn’t want to face, something that left him... vulnerable.

Because Sunny didn’t like being vulnerable.

He really, really, really didn’t.

Stupid or not, there were times he’d rather drown in his problems than talk about them. There were times he’d rather silently bear the weight of the world on his shoulders, times where the mere idea of opening his mouth felt heavier than all of the burdens he carried put together. There were times he was afraid that if he said something, confided in someone... then things might change.

And Sunny didn’t like change very much, either.

He was the kind of person that reveled in familiarity, that drew his comfortable routines around himself like a worn but familiar blanket. Not in a destructive sort of way, but more... foundational, or at least that’s what he’d always told himself.

It was just... it was nice, having a routine. It was nice when things were safe and reliable and he knew exactly what to expect. He couldn’t for a moment claim that his four years of isolation had been good, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that did appreciate just how wonderfully predictable life had been.

Back in the real world, meanwhile, Aubrey looked taken aback by his impromptu remark.

“I... do?” she asked, a small yet unmistakable note of hurt in her voice.

Sunny bit his lip. He really didn’t want to talk about this, but it was a little too late for that now. He’d backed himself into a corner, and the only option left was to double down.

So he did.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “Sometimes, when you’re... there, I just... I, um... I get... lost.”

He cringed a little at how childish he sounded. Why was organizing his thoughts so much easier than speaking them out loud?

“What I... mean is,” he tried to clarify, the words sticking dryly to the back of his throat, “is... that...”

His voice failed him, and he trailed off, staring intently at a crack in the sidewalk.

After several more moments of silence, Aubrey sighed.

“This isn’t working,” she said, not unkindly.

Sunny didn’t need her to tell him that.

He squirmed uncomfortably.

“I know it’s difficult for you,” Aubrey continued, “but the only way this is going to work is if we work together, because I can’t read your mind. I don’t know what does and doesn’t bother you, what you want more of and need less of.” Her eyes softened, and her voice followed suit. “And I really, really don’t want you to have another episode.”

Well. That definitely made two of them.

“So, from the looks of it,” she said, “I think we already need to talk about a few things. Not just about this, but other stuff, too.” She paused, frowning again. “Like how we’re going to treat your whole, uh, memory... thing. That’s not something we can just spring on Basil without warning, not like this.”

She sagged a little, suddenly looking so much older, so much more tired.

“I... he’s been trying his best, he really has,” Aubrey said, something strange rapidly creeping into her tone. “But with... Hazel passing, and then... y-you...”

Her voice, which had begun to wobble, devolved into a single, shaky exhale. Sunny was surprised to see just how... broken she looked. Had she really been that worried about him, or was there something else going on?

Before he could really put much thought into it, though, Aubrey spoke up again. “Sorry,” she said quietly, fidgeting with a loose strand of pink hair. “I just... it’s still so... fresh.” She swallowed. “I’ve been trying my best to be strong for him, but sometimes I... I-I just...”

She took a deep breath.

“It’s... hard, you know?”

Sunny, who was thoroughly confused by now, replied with a simple, hopefully sympathetic nod.

A brief stillness fell over the pair, but before long, something seemed to dawn on the pink-haired girl.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, her brow furrowing once more. “You... your memories, they’re not...” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “Oh my God, I completely forgot. You probably don’t even know, do you?”

Sunny blinked, his confusion only deepening.

Didn’t even know... what?

Aubrey looked stricken. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve explained this first. I just... it didn’t... I didn’t really process...”

She trailed off again, shaking her head slightly. For a few moments, she seemed at a loss for words.

Then, looking him in the eyes, she found some.

“I moved in with Basil.”

. . .

Huh?

She... what?

Basil?

With Basil?

When?

Why?

Basil?

What?

And just like that, nothing made sense anymore. All the other facts that had slowly been starting to add up over the course of this strange, strange morning now paled in the face of these five unexplainable words.

Aubrey and Basil had bought and moved into a house together?

What?

His ever-efficient brain was scrambling to make sense of this, to come up with a solution for this seemingly impossible problem. But much like a certain key he was trying so hard to forget about, he just couldn’t do it.

Because, well, didn’t people almost always move in together... because they were?

Yet Aubrey and Basil weren’t together. They couldn’t be, because Aubrey was with him. She and Mari had confirmed that much.

So what was going on here?

Aubrey took a single look at his face, which was presumably announcing his utter confusion for all the world to see, and opened her mouth.

“I meant that I’m living there,” she clarified. “Instead of, you know. My house.”

. . .

Oh.

Okay, yeah, that... made a lot more sense. In hindsight, he probably should’ve considered this angle, rather than instantly jumping to the conclusion she was talking about a brand-new house altogether.

Still, he decided to cut himself some slack. Suddenly waking up one day and finding out that you’d either a) entered a parallel reality where the dark mistake that had been haunting you relentlessly for almost a quarter of your life had never happened or b) dreamed up the events of the last four years of your life due to a particularly nasty fever would knock just about anyone out of shape. All things considered, he was proud of himself for holding up well enough as he was.

...Panic attacks notwithstanding, anyway.

“I guess you probably deserve to know the whole story,” Aubrey admitted, reminding Sunny once again that there was, in fact, someone next to him.

He nodded.

“Okay,” she replied, with a small hint of resignation. “Let’s go somewhere less... public, then.”

That seemed fair enough. If this was heading in the direction he thought it might, then this was probably a conversation reserved for somewhere that wasn’t standing in the middle of a block where anyone could walk by at any moment.

He would’ve given her a proper reply, but his voice was feeling a bit tired. He settled on simply nodding again.

The two of them began to make their way through town, hands rather conspicuously kept to themselves this time. Free from such all-encompassing distractions, Sunny was free to put his focus on the town itself.

Faraway looked exactly the same as it always did. But that was hardly a surprise—the small, sleepy suburb was no stranger to stagnancy. Thinking about it now, he saw with startling clarity that it was one of the things he loved most about it.

It was nice for some things to never change.

It was nice to take a walk in the late-morning sun, to feel the hot breeze on his cheek, to catch a faint whiff of a distant barbecue. It was nice to see the neatly-rowed houses and trees enveloped in that warm summer glow, to hear the remote, carefree cries of children out to play.

This moment, right now, felt immutable, utterly familiar. He could plug it into any one of his lazy summer memories, and it would slot right in, like it belonged.

It made him realize, suddenly, just how hard it really would’ve been to leave it all behind.

He and Aubrey continued to walk side-by-side, and it quickly became apparent what their destination was. Up the street and across the way was Faraway Park, and before long, they were standing in front of its time-weathered sign.

FARAWAY PARK

THE FUTURE BELONGS TO THE DREAMERS!

. . .

Hah.

There was a time when those words had been a true inspiration for Sunny. When, bright-eyed and pure, he’d really believed in them, taken them to heart. But, looking at them now, he saw they were just words. Simple, faded words on a simple, faded sign in a simple, faded town. Nothing more than sentimental nonsense, the kind people were better off without.

. . .

The dark-haired boy felt a sudden, sharp pang of sorrow at his own cynicism. Was that... really who he was, now? A broken, jaded cynic? Was that really all that was left of the Sunny who had once spent his days lost in blissful daydream, who’d once been so full of joy, of wonder, of hope?

He was hit once again with the sheer enormity of what he’d been through. The sheer enormity of the near-four years of his life he’d lost in what felt like the blink of an eye. The years that, he now realized, had robbed him of the last of his true childhood.

He would never again be that optimistic, naive 12-year old. He could never again indulge in simple, childish comforts the same way he once did. Everyone else had already grown up, moved on. They’d been given their time and used it well.

But him?

He’d missed out on it all.

Permanently, forever, no going back.

So even though he was here—again, whatever here was—and things were so much better than he ever could’ve dreamed of... a simple fact had just become clear to him.

There was no such thing as a true second chance.

And suddenly, that profound sadness was back, that hollow sense of loss settling right back into his chest. The world itself seemed to grow dimmer, painted and tainted by what looked like a soft blue glow covering his body.

“You’ve been staring at that sign for a while now,” Aubrey commented, bringing Sunny’s world back into focus. “Everything okay?”

Sunny glanced at the pink-haired girl and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even with Regular Aubrey being as high as she was on the cuteness scale, Concerned Aubrey absolutely destroyed her.

The way her brow furrowed just a little.

The way she tilted her head ever so slightly.

The way her warm brown eyes softened with such quiet, tender care.

Quite paradoxically, it actually made it harder for him to organize his thoughts whenever she showed concern like this. It was much more difficult to have a ready-made, relatively inoffensive answer when approximately 93% of his brain was focused on working through the logistics of reaching over and suddenly wrapping the girl into a tight hug (Would she mind? Would passersby mind? Would Aubrey mind if passersby minded? Did he mind if she minded?).

...Then again, he wasn’t really supposed to have ready-made answers anymore, was he? He was supposed to be talking about how he actually felt, not hiding behind pre-written replies.

But that was so... it was just... it was so hard. How could anyone ever understand? He was the only one who had experienced what he had. To everyone else, he’d just woken up a bit loopy after some fever, but to him...

. . .

Well.

He didn’t even know anymore.

Just yesterday, he’d gone into Aubrey’s house with his friends to try and talk some sense into her. Now, a mere twenty-four hours later, he was standing here, by her side, at the entrance to a park full of memories that suddenly seemed so... distant.

Had he really played and laughed and dreamed in this place, once upon a time? He found he didn’t know. Couldn’t say for certain. Because if his other memories were proving unreliable... who was to say he could trust any of them?

His first instinct was to reject this paralyzing thought. To push it as far away as he could manage, bury it beneath a black void with a black door, with all the other things he wanted to destroy.

But Aubrey’s voice, ringing in his mind once more, stopped him.

Everything okay?

. . .

If... he stopped acting on instinct, for a moment, and was actually honest with himself...

No.

No, everything wasn’t okay.

Not at all.

And he didn’t want to tell Aubrey that. He wanted to shake his head, maybe mumble something about getting caught in some old memory or other. Whatever it took to keep up the facade, keep him safe.

But...

           he couldn’t.

Because, whether he liked it or not—and he didn’t—he needed to stop running away from his problems.

Aubrey was investing so much into this. She was trying so, so, so hard to make things work, to help him in the best way she knew. It just simply wasn’t fair to her—or to him—to keep pushing her away like this.

If she was willing to trust him as much as she did, it was about time he tried to reciprocate.

Sunny opened his mouth.

“No,” he said softly.

The single word fell like lead off his tongue, leaving him with the distinct taste of metal. And yet, just as if he really had spit out a small chunk of metallic rock, it did make him feel just a tiny bit lighter.

Which was pretty ironic, considering how much weight it actually carried.

For the first time in his life, Sunny had admitted he wasn’t okay, really wasn’t. He’d said so out loud, meant it. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t hidden himself behind a cliff-faced facade, hadn’t pushed his emotions down, down, down the way he’d always done.

For the first time in his life, he’d reached out for help.

Sunny felt exhausted, suddenly, as though someone had reached into his body and pulled out a few batteries. He found himself overwhelmed with the breadth of it all, facts and figures swimming haphazardly in his brain.

He’d killed his sister but now she was back and so were his parents and none of his memories made any sense and nobody hated him and he hated himself and he didn’t want to and Aubrey was way too cute and there was a stupid stupid key in his pocket that just wouldn’t go away and-

His mental soup was interrupted by Aubrey, who reached over and gave his arm a small squeeze. And suddenly, the world was back in perfect order, his thoughts once again sharp and crystal-clear.

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I’m here.”

...Okay, maybe not that sharp and crystal-clear. Seriously, just what was it about the pink-haired girl that made his heart act like this, thundering like a jackhammer against his ribs? At times like this, these feelings were no help to anybody, least of all himself.

He wished she’d squeeze his arm again anyway

“Let’s keep going,” Aubrey told him instead, turning back to face the park in front of them. “We’re almost there. Then we can talk more freely.”

A quiet nod began a quiet trod. As expected of a bright summer day, Faraway Park was filled with the usual crowd. The clamor of children laughing and running amok blended unevenly into the steady rhythm of basketball on pavement, courtesy of two sweaty teens duking it out. That barbecue smell was no longer quite so distant, now promoted to a nearby corner where a familiar blond man was reverently tending to a grill. Those hobos were there; they always were, nestled in their little corners opposite one another. Sunny vaguely recalled something of a friendly rivalry between the two, something about them comparing who’d received more money at the end of each week.

“TAG! YOU’RE IT!” a short, dark-haired boy shouted suddenly, tapping the shoulder of a girl his age before darting away.

The girl was startled, but quickly grinned to herself, sprinting after him in hot pursuit. “OH NO YOU DON’T, JESSE! GET BACK HERE!”

The two raced straight past Sunny, kicking up a small, negligible cloud of sand in their wake. He blinked, surprised at the emotions he suddenly felt welling up within him.

It felt like just yesterday that it was him running through the park like this. Like just yesterday that would’ve been him and Kel, running and tripping and laughing until they were both too sore to move. And then Hero would scold them and Mari console them and everything would be alright with the world.

But nothing was alright with the world. No matter how much it seemed to be. Because, despite it all, Sunny just couldn’t shake a small, haunting sense of lingering unease.

They made their way towards the end of the park, stopping in its top right corner. To the uninitiated, it might look like nothing more than yet another cluster of trees, but...

Side-by-side, Sunny and Aubrey pushed through the underwood, emerging somewhere all too familiar.

. . .

It was funny, how all the cries and whoops abruptly dimmed. How the trees and shrubs and quiet, dusty air seemed to dull all that came from the outside. It was like this very place, their beloved, secret hangout spot, was telling the rest of the world it was not welcome there.

And how right it was.

The pair silently glided along, the park’s cacophony growing fainter and fainter with each step they took. And then it was mere whispers, and they were in front of that worn, ragged picnic blanket that Mari had left behind so long ago.

The toys were there.

The basket was there.

The orchid wasn’t.

Of course not. Why would it be? Mari was, after all, alive and well. There was no reason to leave a flower here, not in that way.

Not as though this were a second grave.

Aubrey sat herself down on the shabby blue cloth, drawing her knees to her chest. Sunny felt he should join her, and did.

. . .

They said nothing at all, for a time. Aubrey stared past him, watched the blue waters toss and weave, splitting the sun into cascades of glittering diamonds.

Finally, she spoke.

“You know... this is where we first kissed.”

Her tone was measured, her voice quiet but crystal clear. She still wasn’t looking at him, continuing instead to peer intently into the watery blue as though it were a canvas painted with her own memories.

“Not right here,” she continued. “Over there, by the pier.”

She smiled, but it was wan, far away. Like she was thinking of something that was just out of reach.

“It was the best day of my life.”

She stared further into the water.

“I have never, ever, ever felt happier than I did in that moment,” she said. “Not before. Not since.”

. . .

Sunny wasn’t sure what to say to any of that.

If he should say anything.

And before he could, Aubrey let out a small laugh, a dry chuckle so thin it sounded more like an exhale.

“I’m sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, or anything,” she told him, her gaze slowly drifting from the water to the old statue perched atop it. “It’s just...”

She trailed off, her eyes unfocusing. All Sunny could hear was the water, softly tossing and turning like a newborn’s breath in sleep.

“It’s just,” Aubrey repeated eventually, her calm, even voice slicing through the thick, empty air, “it’s so strange for me to think... that I’m the only one who remembers it, now.”

Sunny thought he caught a small wobble at the end there, but there was no break in her stoic, thoughtful expression.

“It’s so strange for me to think that I’m the only one who remembers that day,” Aubrey went on. “The letter you wrote. Everything that came after it. The lazy days and nights and afternoons we spent together. The secrets we told each other. The plans we made for our future.”

The wind, impossibly cold for a warm summer day, picked up, whipping her long bright hair around her face.

“It’s so strange,” Aubrey said, unmoving, “to think that I’m the only one... who remembers the love we shared.”

The roiling air grew louder, wilder, tearing a lone pink flower from the statue’s base. Sunny watched it fall into the watery depths, its delicate petals slowly consumed by the murky blue.

The silence that fell then was resolute, purposeful.

Like Aubrey’s voice.

Like Aubrey’s words.

She was waiting for him to say something, he realized suddenly. Waiting for him to chime in, put forth some piece of this puzzle.

But Sunny didn’t know what to say.

. . .

The silence stretched on.

Waiting. Expectant. Unbroken.

Then Aubrey laughed once more.

“Sorry,” she said again. Then, “I don’t even know what I wanted you to say, really. That it’s all been some mistake? April fools, in the middle of July?” A third chuckle, thinner and smaller still. “No. You wouldn’t do that.”

The stillness around them, too, was part of the conversation now. Aubrey let it speak for a while, through the rippling waves and whistling wind.

“I guess,” she said finally, turning to face him at last, “I just want to understand.” She bowed her head slightly. “You said some things in the treehouse earlier. Things I couldn’t dwell on, because of everything that was happening.”

It was unnerving, being so solely the focus of Aubrey’s gaze. It was unnerving, seeing the intensity burning in her warm brown eyes.

“You’re scared,” she said quietly. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what of. But you’re scared.”

His heartbeat was loud, so loud. It pounded like thunder in his chest, threatening to drown out his friend’s gentle words.

“Even now,” Aubrey said softly, “you’re scared.”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Aubrey looked him in the eyes.

“Why?” she asked simply.

.  .  .

Sunny said nothing.

Not because he didn't have what to say. Because he did, but he couldn’t say it.

Aubrey couldn’t know that he was haunted by ghosts that no longer existed. That he was twisted and mangled and covered in red.

Because for Aubrey to know, Sunny would have to tell her.

And he couldn’t do that.

Not here.

Not now.

Not yet.

Because...

                     he was scared.

So, so, so scared.

Scared she’d reject him. Shun him. Leave him all alone.

And what Sunny hated most of all, so much more than heights and spiders and water and change and vulnerability, was the idea of being alone.

He needed her. Couldn’t afford to lose her.

Not like this.

So the silence stretched on, and it was Aubrey who had to break it once more.

“I’m... sorry,” she said, looking away. “Again. You said you weren’t ready to talk about this yet. I shouldn’t be pushing you...”

Sunny let out a small breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“It’s just so... hard, to see you like this,” Aubrey went on. “Trembling and scared and afraid, and I don’t even know why...”

She sat there for a moment, lost in her own musings, before snapping out of them.

“But I’ll give you the time you need,” she added. “For now... let’s just talk about what we came here for.”

Sunny very much appreciated this. He... didn’t plan to not tell her everything, he really didn’t. He just needed more time, more chances to prepare himself.

It also wouldn’t hurt for everyone else to be present, either.

Aubrey leaned back a little, clearing her throat. “So. Basil’s house.”

Her gaze had drifted back to the gently-shifting waters, resting upon them.

“You know about my home situation, right?” she asked him. “What it was like before?”

Sunny nodded a second time. Assuming he could trust those memories, he was indeed well aware of what it had once been.

“Right,” Aubrey replied. “Well.”

She paused, taking the time to presumably organize her thoughts.

“Well,” she repeated finally, “a few months after the recital, my father left.”

Sunny saw no change in her expression, heard no tremor in her voice. And yet, he knew—just knew—that these words exposed a wound so bare and raw he thought there might still be blood seeping from its cracks.

“I don’t know if he was planning it for a while, or it was something he decided right then and there,” Aubrey continued, her voice impossibly still, eerily steady. “At that time, I was hanging out at home as little as I could. The times I actually did have to be there, I tried my best to tune them out.”

Her eyes had glazed over slightly, her voice shifting to a near-monotone.

“That’s where Kel’s Walkman went,” she said, staring into the water without seeing it. “I borrowed it. Took it without asking, because I needed something to drown out the noise.” She let out a small breath. “I can’t remember if I ever had the chance to tell him that.”

Sunny definitely couldn’t remember.

“I came home that day,” Aubrey went on, “found the house a wreck. Mom on the couch, an empty bottle in her hand.”

At this, she began to tense a little, her shoulders growing rigid. Sunny got the distinct sensation that she didn’t even notice.

“She shouted at me. All kinds of things. I was a mistake. A disappointment. The reason my father left.”

Her breathing quickened.

“Her words were slurred. Her breath smelled of alcohol. She was more drunk than I’d ever seen her, and so angry.”

Her shoulders had turned to ice.

“I was scared. Thought that maybe... she would do something to me. She was drunk, and angry, and not in her right mind.”

Her hands were shaking.

“So I ran. Straight back out the door, as fast as my legs could carry me. To the first place that crossed my mind.”

Her eyes were empty.

“Went to your house. Collapsed into a sobbing, blubbering mess.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“The truth came out. And then... Mom was arrested.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“Stayed at your house for a few weeks. Police didn’t know what to do. Where to put me.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“Basil’s grandma stepped in. Talked to Basil’s parents. Convinced them to let me stay.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“Went through the proceedings. Moved into the house with him. With her.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“Lived there, from then on. Never visited Mom in jail. Never tried. Never asked.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“Haven’t seen her since. Haven’t wanted to. Haven’t... thought about it.”

Her voice refused to waver.

“But that’s... okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Her voice began to waver.

“So... why...”

Her voice continued to waver.

“W-why...”

Her breathing became shallow.

“W-why... am I still... so...”

Her breathing became shaky.

“S-so...”

Her voice began

                               to

                                    break

“AAAUUUGH!”

Aubrey crumpled forward, her head in her hands.

“I HATE this!” she shouted, her voice thundering through the empty wood. “I hate this I hate this I HATE THIS!”

Sunny could only stare, his body frozen in shock.

“It’s been FOUR FUCKING YEARS and I’m STILL NOT OVER IT! I don’t get it, I don’t GET it, what am I doing wrong, I just want it to stop, let me not care, let me not CARE, I don’t want to CARE anymore-”

She was openly sobbing now, her words growing less and less coherent.

“Stop making me feel bad, I don’t want to feel bad, she deserves it, she deserves to rot ALONE-”

Sunny had to do something.

“And Hazel’s gone and Basil’s hurting and Mari and Hero are going to leave and you can’t REMEMBER any-”

Sunny pulled Aubrey into a sudden, tight hug.

Mouth still half-open, she froze abruptly, surprise flashing across her tear-stained face.

Then, like the snap of a puppet’s strings, she broke, letting herself fall onto him.

They sat there for some time. Aubrey quietly sobbing into his shoulder, Sunny awkwardly yet diligently holding her, letting her. At one point, he even deigned to try the very same back-rub technique Mari always practiced, and it did seem to help somewhat.

Eventually, Aubrey was able to regain her composure. Visibly embarrassed, she sat up.

“I-I’m sorry for exploding on you like that,” she said, ashamed. “I just... I’ve been under a lot of stress, lately.”

That was fairly evident. Sunny was honestly rather surprised she’d even been holding up as well as she was.

Though, thinking about it... she probably hadn’t been, had she? Now that he knew what to look for, it was all too obvious—the slight tautness of her shoulders, the tiny crack in her smile, the miniscule catch in her voice. Those little signs of hers that screamed I’M NOT OKAY AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT.

Once upon a time, he’d been quite good at reading those private signs. It was something he’d taken pride in, something he’d had to use more often than he would’ve liked. And, paying attention now, it was clear this was something he was still adept at.

But he’d been too distracted, bogged down, by his own issues. He’d been so deeply focused on his trauma and his memories and his problems to pay proper attention to, well... anyone else. He’d been so stuck in his own head that he’d forgotten that other people, too, had thoughts and feelings and struggles.

He hadn’t processed, really processed, how all of this would affect Aubrey. Even after his breakdown in the treehouse, even when it really had seemed like he was viewing things clearly... he’d still ultimately been viewing everything in relation to himself, and he was all too aware of how flawed a metric that was.

Yet here was a chance, a real chance, to properly go beyond that. To really do something for her, something purely for the sake of someone that wasn’t him.

The correct choice was clear.

“Talk,” he demanded suddenly, giving Aubrey a steely look.

Aubrey blinked, confused. “Uh?” she said.

“Talk,” Sunny repeated. “About... what’s bothering you.”

. . .

Aubrey stared at him.

“Sunny, I... appreciate it, I really do, but you should worry about yourself,” she said, giving him a thin, wan smile. “I’m... it’s not... my issues don’t matter.” She took a small breath. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Aubrey was a lot of things, but a good liar was not one of them. Sunny saw right through her paper-thin attempt at deflection, and she was not getting away with it today.

He shook his head. “Talk,” he instructed her, his gaze growing steelier still.

Aubrey squirmed. “But... you-”

“TALK.” Sunny was no longer asking.

The pink-haired girl relented. “Okay, okay,” she mumbled. “If you really insist...”

He did.

Aubrey let out a long, heavy sigh, sinking further into the grass-stained blanket.

“Three weeks ago,” she said quietly, “Basil’s grandmother passed away.”

She stared into space, her words hanging in the air.

“It... we knew it was coming. She was sick for about a year and a half. Wasn’t much at first, but as time went on...” She closed her eyes. “Well. Basil’s piece of shit parents had the foresight to hire a caretaker for her, at least. Pretty soon, she was taking care of us, too.”

This was sounding familiar enough so far.

“Her name is Polly, and she’s a very special woman,” Aubrey continued. “She really takes care of Basil like he’s her own kid.” She paused, blushing a little, before adding, “A-and... well... me too, I guess.”

Sunny hadn’t really had the opportunity to see very much of Polly, but she had seemed like a pretty decent person. He was glad this assessment had proved true. Both Basil and Aubrey more than deserved someone like that in their lives, and he was certainly happy for them.

“Still, it’s been... difficult, with Hazel gone,” Aubrey said, her voice catching slightly. “It hit Basil really hard. He’s gotten a lot better, but... seeing how much quieter he is, hearing him crying in the middle of the night...”

She trailed off, her voice wobbling a little.

“It’s... well, taken a toll on me.” Aubrey rubbed her eyes. “And of course I miss her, too. Basil was her grandkid, but she didn’t have to do anything for me! And she still let me live there, and always tried to make sure I was as comfortable and happy, and was always just so... n-nice...”

Another one of those small, shaky breaths. Aubrey took a few moments to compose herself before trying to finish.

“I owe so much to her, and now... n-now...”

She trailed off a second time, sagging in defeat. Sunny let her rest, let the quiet whispers of water and wind take up the conversation once more.

“And then you got sick,” Aubrey said finally, listlessly staring down at the faded blue cloth. “So sick that you didn’t wake up for almost a week.” She hugged her knees closer to her chest. “It was hell. I just couldn’t understand it. Why was this happening to me? Was I being punished for something? What had I done wrong...?”

She was doing that thing again. That thing where she blocked out the rest of the world, reverted to a near-monotone, in an attempt to control the raging emotions inside of her.

Sunny didn’t like the aching familiarity he felt.

“Basil could barely take it. He cried for almost all of the first day, then didn’t leave his room for the next two. I had to bring him food, convince him to eat it.”

Sunny flinched, looking away. Mari had told him that Basil had been worried about him, but hearing it put into words like that...

. . .

He couldn’t even die without hurting his “friends”. All he ever did was cause pain, pain, and more pain. It would’ve been better if he’d just never been born, if he’d never been selfish enough to decide he had a right to exist in the first pla

His breath caught in his throat.

. . .

Right.

He’d almost forgotten about the whole “immutable self-loathing” thing. Almost. Which probably meant he was actually making progress, unless this relief was temporary and it was all going to shatter and he was going to wonder how he’d been stupid enough to think he could ever escape this.

But, he reminded himself sternly, this wasn’t about him right now.

It was about Aubrey.

Aubrey had been there for him when he’d needed her, so it was his turn now. He knew all too well that his problems would still be there when he was ready, lurking and waiting and whispering in the back of his mind. And they could wait, damn it.

The pink-haired girl closed her eyes again. “And now this,” she said wearily. “Partial amnesia, or whatever the hell. I just don’t know if Basil’s strong enough to handle it all. Hell, I don’t know if I’m strong enough! I’m trying my best here, but I... I-I...”

She looked down, her tired, tired eyes tracing the lines of the old blue blanket.

”I just... it’s... j-just...”

She sighed heavily.

“I just can’t fucking do this anymore,” she said quietly, her voice so defeated and exhausted and broken that Sunny felt a sharp, painful stab in his chest. “I thought I was strong enough, that I could handle all of this, but I... I can’t. I just can’t.”

. . .

Alarm bells went off in Sunny’s head at her achingly familiar words. He’d gone down similar trains of thought before, and he knew exactly where they led.

He couldn’t let Aubrey lose herself to this. Wouldn’t.

“Stop!” he blurted, his own forcefulness surprising him.

Aubrey’s head snapped up, her shock at his outburst unmistakable.

This single word took even more energy out of him, and he suddenly felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

His vision faltered.

His breathing slowed.

But, gritting his teeth... he forced himself to PERSIST.

“You can do it,” Sunny told her fiercely, ignoring the imagined piano stroke ringing in his ears. “You can and will and have to and it’s going to be okay.”

Each letter was a mountain, each word a valley he had to cross, to surmount.

Yet still he pressed onward.

“Stop saying... you’re not... good enough,” he spat. “You’re too... tired, to keep going.”

It hurt.

“You’re... strong. Strong enough to... get past this.”

It hurt so much.

“Even if it’s... scary, and hard, and you just... want to lie d-down... and...”

The pain was unbearable.

“The... Aubrey I knew... went through a lot. And it... hurt her. Changed her.”

He wanted it to end.

“But she... she sur...vived. And... and you...”

He needed it to end.

“...will... too.”

He concluded with a thunderous exhale, feeling as though the very life was draining out of his body.

. . .

Okay.

Wow.

Good God, that had been difficult. At the moment, Sunny was having a hard time believing he’d ever want to speak again. He rested his gaze on the blanket below him, too afraid to see what Aubrey had thought of his sudden, impassioned speech.

And then...

                   she laughed.

It was still thin and small and tired, sure, but unlike earlier, this one was... real. There was genuine mirth behind it, genuine warmth.

“God,” she snorted, “look at me. Breaking down in tears every time the wind blows.”

She snickered again, louder and sharper.

. . .

It... really wasn’t funny.

So why were the corners of his mouth turning upward?

“Looks like they should’ve, heh, put rain on the forecast today,” Aubrey continued, her small, tear-stained grin growing wider.

. . .

That... was so, so bad.

So why did he have to suppress a snort of his own?

Aubrey dealt the killing blow. “I... snrk... I should audition for, like... being a water fountain, or something.”

.  .  .

Sunny stared at her.

Then blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

Aubrey quickly followed suit, her raucous, delirious hoots only adding more fuel to their fire. And then they were laughing and gasping and rolling and it was all just so funny.

It was probably a stress reaction of some kind. An emergency way to cope with the sheer overload of emotions the bedraggled pair had experienced in so short a time. But whatever the reason, it was a change of pace that wasn’t half-bad.

They laughed

and laughed

and laughed until their bodies were sore and their throats were dry and their faces were red with glee.

Then they caught their breath, and steadied their heartbeats, and sat up once more.

. . .

“I need to stop with these full-body workouts already,” Aubrey muttered after finally regaining her composure for what seemed like the eight time that day. “It’s not healthy to keep having outbursts like this.”

Sunny nodded vehemently.

“...Thanks, though,” Aubrey added, after a moment. “For what you said.” She put a hand to her temples, a small, sad smile spreading across her face. “Shows me that the Sunny I knew hasn’t entirely disappeared. Still selfless to a fault, heh...”

Sunny... wasn’t quite sure he’d agree with her assessment. He thought himself quite selfish, in fact—but wisely decided that now probably wasn’t the best time to press the issue.

. . .

Silence fell for the umpteenth time. But unlike those that came before it, it wasn’t measured, anticipative. It was just... comfortable.

Over the course of today, he and Aubrey had experienced most of the entire spectrum of emotions together. They had both admitted they were hurting, that there were painful, crippling things dogging their every step. They had both braved a glimpse of each other’s darkness, fighting for them despite it.

And that, undeniably, had forged a connection between them.

Sunny no longer felt overwhelmed to be in Aubrey’s presence. He was no longer blinded by emotions he could not understand, by a pink-tinted haze that had once obscured a now-simple truth.

He just felt

                        comfortable.

This, he realized, must be what love really looked like. Not a moonlit walk on a breathtaking beach. Not a candlelit dinner with a smooth, suave piano. Not even all that... private stuff.

Love—platonic, romantic, familial—was about building.

Love meant giving without always receiving. It meant building someone up, even when you were down. It meant building a foundation through each other, through unwavering, undying commitment to help your partner become the best version of themselves they could be.

That’s why Aubrey had been trying so hard. That’s why she’d been so very adamant on helping him, being there for him, not giving up on him.

Because she loved him.

Really loved him.

And he, Sunny realized... wanted to, too.

He wanted to love her.

To rebuild the foundation she’d once had.

To let them strengthen each other, build each other.

To let them keep each other on their feet, keep the roiling darkness at bay.

Sunny wanted to love Aubrey.

He couldn’t remember if he ever truly had. If the Sunny that Aubrey had known was anywhere inside him, or if he was long, long gone.

But he still wanted to love her.

To get to know her all over again.

And so...

                 he would.

Sunny reached over and took Aubrey’s hand in his.

It was a whole new sensation. A whole new world from what it had once been. He’d thought he’d felt connection before, that the faux impersonation of what this was supposed to mean had been the real thing.

And he’d been wrong.

It didn’t merely feel “good”. He knew, now, that that wasn’t ever the point; love wasn’t about what felt “good”, but what mattered. And this... this mattered to him. It mattered because of what it represented—that he wanted to further the growing connection between them, deepen it into a trench so vast it would take years to reach the other side.

“Are you really sure about this?” Aubrey asked him. She didn’t shy away from his contact, but she didn’t lean into it, either. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. You’ve already said that I overwhelm you a lot, so... please, please, please don’t just do this for my sake. That would just make me feel worse, more than anything.”

Sunny thought for a few moments, trying to make sure his next words would be as clear as possible.

“I... don’t remember... us,” he finally settled on saying, his voice tired, halting. “Don’t... know if I... ever will.”

He gripped Aubrey’s hand tighter.

“So I want...”

He forced himself to look her in the eyes, the warm, hazel-brown eyes he was so tired of watching break.

“...to give myself... something new... to remember.”

He leaned a little closer.

“For... us... to remember.”

. . .

Aubrey took the hint.

His second kiss was undeniably better than his first. For one, he’d actually been prepared this time, which certainly improved the experience. For two, it was so much more irrefutably richer, more meaningful.

It wasn’t just a feeling.

It was a symbol.

He wasn’t sure which one of them pulled away. Maybe they both had, in unison, as though they were perfectly in sync with each other. That was a nice idea, Sunny thought.

He was still holding Aubrey’s hand, he noticed. Still gripping it tightly, joining it with his own.

He kept it that way.

Once again, the two fell into yet another period of silence, of quiet stillness, of nothing but each other’s slow, steady breaths. And once again, Sunny just let himself breathe.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Breathe in

                            . . .

                                            and breathe out.

Everything

                        was okay.

“Thank you,” Aubrey finally said. “Really, thank you. It’s going to be hard, but... I think we can really get through this.” She smiled at him, a smile that at last wasn’t tainted by pain and misery. “Together.”

Sunny certainly hoped they would. He’d come so, so, so far already, made so much progress. Throwing it all away felt unthinkable. And besides, it was clear now that this was no longer just about him—Aubrey needed him to stay strong, too.

He had to keep going. Keep trying. No matter what came next.

Aubrey sighed. “It still... hurts, that you’ve lost so much,” she said quietly. “But amnesia’s better than the alternative, and at least you didn’t forget everything.”

As Sunny nodded, he realized just how much he was... accepting her words as reality. How much he’d unconsciously decided that yes, this impossible situation was, in the end, the result of a very strong fever that had simply overstepped its bounds.

He had mixed feelings about this.

On one hand, it was nice to have an answer, a real answer, to everything. It was nice to have a simple, easy way to rationalize it all, to force it back into the realm of sense.

But on the other, it meant that there were real memories, real things he’d lived through, that were now... gone.

He didn’t remember how his real first kiss had felt.

Or all those months he’d spent with Aubrey.

Or all the things he’d done with his friends.

Or all the things he’d done with his family.

He didn’t remember the day Mari and Hero officially got together. He didn’t remember his fourteenth birthday, or his fifteenth.

And he had a small, sinking feeling... that he never would.

Then there was the matter of the things he did remember, the years and years of isolation and delusion. Accepting the fever hypothesis meant, definitively, that he was declaring all of that... moot. Just a whacked-up fever dream, the deranged product of a sickly patient fighting for his health.

That was really how it came to a close? “It was all a dream”? All the pain, the suffering, the regret... it just couldn’t make sense to Sunny that this was how it all ended. Hadn’t there been a point, to it all? There had to have been, didn’t there?

Because, even if it was just a dream, there had still been tangible effects from its passing. He was still burdened by knowledge that no longer mattered, broken by experiences that were never real. How was that fair, that he should be bent all out of shape because of some stupid dream?

Dreams shouldn’t be allowed to get you invested. They shouldn’t be allowed to change you, or break you, or anything in between. Because that just wasn’t fair. He was clearly unable to tell the difference between reality and dream, so how was he ever supposed to know what was real?

For all he knew, he could even be dreaming right...

...now...

. . .

That... would explain everything, wouldn’t it? Every strange thing he’d encountered, everything about his memories, even why there was a familiar silver key in his pocket. Really, it made far too much se

Sunny erased the thought.

He knew he shouldn’t do that. That he was running away from his problems again, refusing to confront things. But right now, that thought just... hurt too much. He needed

Sunny erased the thought.

Then another.

Then another.

And then

                    there was silence.

Sweet

              beautiful

                               silence.

Sunny let out a small sigh of relief. He felt a lot lighter, suddenly, like everything had gotten much brighter. As though there was a happy yellow light radiating off of him, illuminating his surroundings.

Everything was okay now. No, wait, it always had been, right? There was never anything to worry about, nothing involving... pockets.

. . .

Why... was he thinking about pockets?

Weren’t

                  his pockets

                                          empty?

Oh! He remembered, now. He had a photo in his pocket! Right, right, he had a photo in his pocket, and he had to give it to Basil. That was his next objective, then. Bring the photo to Basil.

Sunny was happy to have an objective. Objectives were good, because they kept you active, and were good exercise. Hadn’t Mari told him that once, sitting on a picnic blanket in a lush green forest? Yeah, that sounded right.

That... sounded...

. . .

He blinked, shaking his head a little. This was no time to be standing around, not when there was an OBJECTIVE to complete. BASIL needed his PHOTO, didn’t he?

Yeah.

BASIL needed his PHOTO.

So... he should get going.

He cleared his throat, then reached over to tug on AUBREY’s sleeve.

“What is it?” she asked him, concerned.

SUNNY pointed towards the clearing’s exit.

“You want to... leave?” she asked.

SUNNY nodded. Yes, that was it. He wanted to leave the HANGOUT SPOT and go to BASIL’S HOUSE.

...It was kinda funny, actually. This place reminded him of a different one, a place where there was a big shoe that BASIL lived in. If he was in that place, he’d already be able to complete his OBJECTIVE.

But that place was in HEADSPACE, not the REAL WORLD. So it didn’t help him very much.

AUBREY let out a small breath, then climbed to her feet. “I... alright,” she relented. “We’ve probably spent enough time here anyway. POLLY’s expecting us, after all.”

That sounded good to SUNNY. He got up, stretching a little. It felt nice to be back on his feet; he was a bit sore from all that sitting and talking and thinking.

Though... hadn't he just been thinking about something important...?

. . .

SUNNY erased the thought, just to be safe.

Then, AUBREY by his side, he left the clearing, quietly humming a familiar tune.

It was a good day to have a PHOTO to deliver.