Chapter Text
Everyone was there. Hero sat stiffly in the corner, his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Kel stood on the other side of Basil's hospital bed, restless, his eyes flickering toward Basil’s sleeping figure every few seconds. Aubrey was right next to Hero, her gaze also fixed on Basil, worry etched into her face as she silently hoped he was okay despite his injuries.
The hospital room was quiet, save for the low hum of the fluorescent lights and the steady rhythm of Basil’s heart monitor. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant — sharp, sterile, and far too clean for the heaviness that lingered in the air. Then, the door creaked softly. Sunny stood in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the white tile floor. The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound drew everyone’s attention.
Aubrey noticed him first. Her eyes widened, surprise flickering briefly across her face — followed by something like relief. Hero lifted his head next, his face pale and tired, the exhaustion of sleepless nights clear in his expression. Kel was the last to turn, his features uncertain but slightly brightened, just a bit, at the sight of Sunny standing there. They were about to approach him — to say something, anything — but before they could, Sunny spoke.
His hands trembled at his sides. The words pressed against his throat, desperate to escape before he lost the courage to speak. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet their eyes.
"I have to tell you something.”
Sunny stared down at his trembling hands. “It’s… about Mari.”
Her name left his lips like a wound reopening. His chest tightened, his pulse quickened, and his breathing grew uneven. He could feel his throat closing, his vision blurring at the edges. For a moment, he thought he might pass out. Calm down, he told himself. They deserve to know.
He clenched his fists, forcing the words out through shaky breaths and told himself to Focus.
“It wasn’t… what everyone thought.” His voice trembled, barely holding itself together. “It wasn’t a suicide. It was… an accident. We were fighting…”
The room fell deathly silent, the hum of the hospital lights seemed louder now — the only sound in a space where hearts had suddenly grown heavy. For a long moment, no one moved, no one breathed. The air itself seemed to stop. Then came the sound. A faint, high-pitched ringing that only Hero could hear. It crawled into his ears, sharp and dizzying. His hands began to shake uncontrollably.Hero shot up from his chair, his face pale, eyes wide in disbelief.
“What… what are you saying Sunny?” His voice cracked mid-sentence, his breath uneven.
Sunny’s lips parted, but no words came out. He could only look at them — at their faces, at the disbelief and heartbreak painted across their expressions — and the truth hung heavy between them, too big for anyone to hold.
The silence shattered.
Hero staggered back a step, his chest rising and falling too fast. Aubrey’s eyes went wide with shock. Kel’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came. The three of them stood frozen, trying to process the impossible.
It wasn’t that they didn’t have questions — there were a million.
They just didn’t know which one to ask first. They didn’t even know what to believe anymore.
Sunny proceeded to tell them everything — the whole truth. Every terrible, fragile piece of it.
He told them about the argument, the accident, the panic. About Basil’s terrified face, the desperate attempt to cover what couldn’t be undone. As the words spilled out, his voice grew shakier, his breaths shorter.
“I’m sorry,” he kept saying, over and over, as if the words could rewrite what happened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want any of this…”
Tears streamed down his cheeks. His chest ached so badly he thought it might burst. He could feel it again — the same crushing weight that had followed him for years. The guilt that clung to his every breath, Something haunted his dreams, and that became him.
He had lived with it for so long that he thought he’d never be free. But now, saying it out loud — facing them — he realized this was how it had to end. He knew he was guilty. He accepted that. And for the first time, he wasn’t running anymore. His friends deserved the truth, even if it destroyed whatever was left of him.
Hero stumbled back a step, as if struck. His hands trembled violently. “No. No, this can’t—” His voice cracked, and he pressed a hand against his chest as if trying to steady his heartbeat. The sound of Basil’s heart monitor seemed to echo louder and faster, matching the panic rising in the room.
“Hero…” Kel reached out, his voice soft but urgent.
But Hero didn’t hear him. His eyes were glassy, unfocused — like he wasn’t really there. He muttered something under his breath, maybe Mari’s name, maybe just a broken sound of disbelief. Then he turned toward the door.
“Hero, wait!” Kel called out.
Hero’s hand brushed the doorknob, shaking. For a brief second, he froze — like he might turn around — but then he pushed the door open and left. His footsteps echoed down the hall, uneven and hurried, as if he were trying to outrun the truth itself.
The door slammed shut, and the sound hung in the air like a crack of thunder.
Aubrey flinched. Her gaze lingered on the door Hero had disappeared through, her heart pounding so loud it hurt. The silence that followed was unbearable — thick with everything unsaid. Then her breath hitched, and something inside her snapped.
She stood frozen, every muscle in her body tense. Her mind screamed to do something, say something, anything — but all she could feel was the heat rising in her chest. The urge to lash out, to let her anger spill across the sterile white walls of the hospital room, clawed at her. But she stopped herself — barely.
Her eyes glistened as she turned to Sunny — at the boy who once stood beside her through every summer afternoon, who laughed with her beneath the treehouse, who promised they’d stay friends forever. Now, that boy felt like a stranger wearing his face. The weight of that realization made her stomach twist.
Her voice came out unsteady, trembling with a mixture of pain and fury. “You’re lying.”
Sunny shook his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m not. I’m sorry… for keeping this a secret for so long.”
But before he could say more, Aubrey cut him off, her voice breaking like glass.
“NO, YOU’RE LYING!” she screamed, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. “You— you let us believe she killed herself!” Her voice cracked, sharp and full of anguish. “For years, Sunny! Do you even know what that did to us? To Hero?” Her chest heaved. “You have the nerve to apologize right now?!”
Her shout echoed across the room, and for a second even the heart monitor seemed to hold its breath. She knew, deep down, that it wasn’t fair — that she was speaking out of pure hurt — but the thought of Mari’s death being something like this made her want to scream until her voice gave out.
Sunny looked up at her, tears falling freely. His quiet demeanor — the same withdrawn calm he had worn for years — finally cracked. His voice was small and broken. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I didn’t know what to do.”
Aubrey took a shaky step back. Her throat felt tight. “You could’ve told us,” she said, her voice trembling. “You could’ve said something. But instead, you hid. You just—”
Kel couldn’t bear the sight of his friends like this. His chest ached, but he refused to let the moment spiral further. Even though he was hurting too — maybe more than he wanted to admit — he forced himself to speak.
“Aubrey,” Kel said softly, his voice strained but steady. “Let’s just… hear him out, please. I just want us to be together again.”
Aubrey froze mid-sentence, biting her lip hard to stop it from trembling. Kel’s words cut through her anger like a dull knife. Part of her wanted to lash out again — to scream that he didn’t understand, that none of them did — that it felt like they were all downplaying Mari’s death again. But then her anger wavered.
For a brief second, she saw something else. The memory of the lake flashed in her mind — Basil’s terrified eyes, the water swallowing him, her own panic when she realized what she had almost done. Her breath caught in her throat.
She looked at Sunny again, and though the rage was still there, it wasn’t pure anymore. It was tangled — with grief, guilt, and a faint, unbearable understanding.
Maybe she did know what he was feeling. Maybe she just couldn’t bear to admit it. Maybe everyone was still grieving, all over again. Everything hurt.
Her voice came out softer now, barely holding together. “I can’t— I can’t do this.”
Aubrey wiped her tears roughly with her sleeve, turned away, and stormed out of the room.
The door stayed open, letting a faint breeze drift through the room. The wind stirred the curtains, carrying with it a fragile kind of silence.
Kel stood there, watching as each of his friends walked away one by one. The truth had shattered everything they’d rebuilt — and he couldn’t blame them. He felt it too: the heartbreak, the confusion, the betrayal. Yet, when his eyes met Sunny’s, he didn’t see a monster. He saw a boy — small, trembling, and broken — who had been carrying a mountain on his shoulders all alone.
For once, Kel didn’t know what to say. His thoughts tangled between his brother who had run off, Aubrey’s rage, and the quiet ache of losing their bond all over again. The friends who had just found their way back to each other were now breaking apart once more — this time, not because of secrets, but because of the truth.
Kel let out a shaky sigh. His voice came out soft, fragile. “Why does this keep happening to us?”
Sunny didn’t answer at first. Then, barely audible, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Kel.”
Kel’s tears spilled over before he could stop them. He tried to wipe them away, but his hands only trembled. For a second, he looked lost — torn between anger, sorrow, and a quiet need for comfort he didn’t want to admit.
Then Sunny moved. Without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Kel. The gesture was small, hesitant — but real. Kel froze at first, startled by the contact, then broke completely, burying his face into Sunny’s shoulder.
Sunny held him tighter, his own tears falling freely now. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet — just two friends holding on to the pieces of what was left, trying to keep them from slipping away.
After a moment, Kel pulled away, his breath still uneven. His gaze drifted toward the open door where Hero had disappeared. The hallway beyond looked endless, swallowed by silence. His chest tightened — Hero had never truly healed from losing Mari, and now that pain finally had a face… his best friend’s.
Kel wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, his voice trembling. “Take care, Sunny,” he murmured, the words barely holding together.
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more — to tell Sunny it would be okay, even if he didn’t believe it himself — but nothing came out. So instead, Kel turned and ran after his brother, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The door remained open, and only the steady hum of the machines filled the room. The echoes of what had just happened still clung to the air — heavy, raw, and impossible to escape. Sunny stood there, motionless, his shoulders trembling. He had finally told them the truth. Every word had felt like tearing open an old wound, but it was out now — no more hiding, no more lies.
He could still see the looks on their faces burned into his mind. Hero’s pale expression, the way his hands shook before he fled the room. Aubrey’s anger — bright and desperate — twisting into grief before she turned away. Kel’s tears, the way he tried to hold everything together even as it fell apart. One by one, they left him, until the only sound left was the faint hum of the hospital lights and the slow, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.
For a moment, Sunny thought he might collapse under it all — the silence, the guilt, the weight of being left behind once again.
Then — a faint rustle of bedsheets.
“Sunny?”
It was a fragile voice. Basil had woken.
Basil stirred. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and searching, before finding Sunny standing beside him. His expression softened, as if seeing him there was enough to quiet the storm still lingering in his mind.
Sunny said nothing. His eyes were red, his face streaked with tears, but when he met Basil’s gaze, he managed a small, fragile smile. Basil didn’t need to ask what had happened — somehow, he already knew.
And in that silence, something shifted.
For Basil, it felt as Something had lifted from his heart, the darkness that had followed him since that day slowly fading into the corners of the room.
And for Sunny — for the first time in years — Something wasn’t standing behind him anymore. The shape that once loomed over his every breath, every dream, was gone. Not forgiven, not erased — but gone.
What remained was fragile, uncertain, but real.
As the light of morning began to pour through the window, the shadows softened, and the world felt just a little less cold.
The sun began to rise once again.