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Sunny climbed.
The stairs are cold, the floor burns his feet. They’re bare, he doesn’t know where his shoes went. He doesn’t think it matters now. The pain won’t last forever. Everything comes to an end. But it’s a good reminder, every step, every spike of cold that shoots up his legs. His punishment, he decides, he’s ran for long enough.
Part of him knows this is still running. Part of him knows that this is still selfish. Is he avoiding the truth to spare himself, or spare others?
This is what Mari would want, he tells himself, he’s doing this for her, revenge, punishment, let the others think it was something that ran in their family, it’ll be easier for them to understand. At least they’ll have the memories, they’ll have each other. He hopes Basil forgives himself, it was never his fault. His eye burns.
Part of him thinks if he truly wanted to punish himself, he’d turn back, tell the truth, take the others anger with a smile and let Mari finally rest. But he’s afraid. There’s no going back, he knew that the minuet he saw her swaying in the wind. They’d never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.
Its better for them to live a lie, he decides, the truth would taint those memories forever. He knows. He knows because he’s been running from that fact for three years. Sunny will take this truth to his grave, and let the others remember.
Hero and Kel will never understand the supposed suicides, they’ll never know why, but they’ll fabricate reasons, they’ll fill in the gaps in their heads. Pressure, expectations, trauma. Maybe they’ll blame themselves. Aubrey did, at first. But they’ve learnt now. They’re better prepared. When the next storm comes the ship will hold strong, they’ll mourn, and part of Sunny is gleeful that they’ll still care enough to mourn, and then they will continue to sail. Life will continue without Sunny; it’s had plenty of practice these last three years.
Maybe Mari wants him dead. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she is pleased, gloating, glad that he’s finally made up his mind to avenge her, rid the world of his burden. Maybe she is pleading, begging, quiet, willing him to go back downstairs, to come to terms with her death. He doesn’t know anymore. All the versions of Mari in his head had melted, merged. Become one, one that follows, haunts just behind him, one that smells like her faint perfume, always out of reach.
But he’s made up his mind. Disappointing her should be as easy as breathing by now.
Omori wandered.
The white space door closes behind him, his friends greet him with smiles. There is relief in his chest, as he walks towards them. He wraps his arms around Hero, mouth tight as he presses his face into his stomach, tears budding in his eyes. Hero’s arms slide around him easily, rubbing his back.
“I’m sorry.” Omori says, he isn’t quite sure who it’s for.
But Kel and Aubrey’s various cries of surprise at his voice before they too, throw their arms around him wash the thought from his mind. Hero smiles at him, eyes full of patient surprise.
“You didn’t leave us waiting for too long, Omori!”
He feels Hero’s hand pat the top of his head, firm, real.
“It’s a beautiful day out,” Says Hero, ruffling his hair, “I think Mari’s having a picnic by the beach today, Basil said the waters great for taking photographs as well, why don’t we go see them if you’re feeling a little down?”
And Omori breathes, and smiles, wipes the tears from his eyes and nods, his friends fall into that familiar line behind him and he walks, carpet plush against his feet, heart beating strong in his chest. He’s going to spend the day with his friends, and everything is going to be ok. For good, this time. He made sure of it.
Sunny felt the wind through his hair.
It’s calming, almost. Reminds him to breathe. He’s always been afraid of heights, of falling. He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. The sky is breath-taking.
He remembers his friends climbing a tree, it was Hero and Kel mostly, a race to the top per Kel’s command. The branches seemed endless, like you could climb that tree for hours and never reach the top. A maze of wood and leaves. Everything seemed bigger then, somehow. He had watched his friends, one by one with shouted encouragements, place their foot into this hollow in the bark, and swing themselves up into the branches, lost from view moments later. Even Basil, gentle, fragile Basil, had reluctantly swung his leg up onto the branch, nesting himself comfortably on one of the thicker branches beside Mari, staring at his book so he wouldn’t look down.
They’d encouraged Sunny to climb up too, the view was perfect, they had said. But Sunny had settled himself against the exposed roots of the trees, feet firmly on the ground, and watched the sunset from the forest floor. The view was just as good from down here, he told himself, arms wrapped around his knees. He sat there, and listened to his friends giggling above him, and wondered how birds could handle the swooping heights, with only the wings to stop them falling.
Maybe flying was different. Sunny wondered what it felt like to fly.
His friends had been right, he decided, leaning against the railing for support. His legs burned. He was weaker than he remembered being. But the sky was so, so beautiful. It was early morning, dregs of the sunrise still peeking out over the horizon. He watched the birds swoop along the sky line and smiled. Flying, free, free as a bird. He ached. Mari’s death felt like weights on his ankles, like burning wax where wings should be. It was a matter of minutes till he was free. But until then, he stood there, and breathed it all in.
He’d robbed Mari of this. Of sunrises and Sunsets, of birdsong and slow mornings. He wished he could take her place. Trade his life for hers in anyway. But this wasn’t the dreamscape, not anymore. That place was long gone, its doors shut, at least to Sunny. Maybe they wouldn’t be, when he fell, maybe the doors would re-open and Mari would smile at him, and chide him for being such an idiot. He didn’t know what the afterlife was like, was it the one in scripture or something entirely new? He’d find out eventually, he told himself, and wherever he ended up, he hoped Mari would be waiting for him. He missed her so much.
He’d woken up alone, this morning. He should be used to it, by now. His mother stopped bothering in the mornings, after his father left. She let him sleep however long he wanted, under the guise of letting him rest. Most of the time she was long gone when he awoke, and it wasn’t long before he was crawling back into bed, desperate for that escape, to push back the feelings that clawed at his throat whenever he awoke.
It stung a little, today though. He wondered why. Why nobody was there to see him. He’d been rushed to the hospital after Basils house, so surely his friends knew. Maybe Basil had told them already. Maybe they’d made up their minds to abandon him. Maybe he was just doing them a favor.
But then again, who knows when visiting hours started. He couldn’t blame them; they had their own lives. And the flowers in his room were comforting, people cared, people wanted him to get better. They wouldn’t understand that this was getting better, that this was his salvation, but he didn’t expect them to.
He hadn’t brought anything to leave a note after-all, no goodbye message, and if he went to say goodbye to Basil now, he was sure he’d lose his nerve.
“It would be nice to have a proper goodbye.” Hero had said. They’d had so little time.
He hoped they would forgive him for that.
Omori felt the grass under his feet.
His friends crawled out from the stump one by one, and slowly the soft grass turned to sand, as the group walked north towards the beach. And sure enough, there she was.
Red and white blanket spread out along the sand, where she lay, face turned up towards the sun, watching the unending sky, and all its constellations. Day and night, the sun and the stars, Omori and Mari. She looked sad. He didn’t understand.
He lay next to her, head on her stomach, feeling each rolling breath. She was here. Breathing, alive, safe. He would protect her. Over and over again if he had to. He would succeed where Sunny failed. He would save his sister.
“Oh Omori,” She sighed, hand in his hair, “What are we ever going to do with you?”
He listened. He was always good at that. To Aubrey and Kel, already knee deep in the water, arguing about beach toys, or food, or hector, or something equally as silly. To Hero, stood on the dock, head in his hands as he shouted after them to be careful, to stop fighting, to stop splashing water at Basil when he wasn’t even in the ocean yet. To Basil laughing, the slightly nervous smile wide on his face, the gentle assurance that it was ok, he didn’t mind, so long as his camera didn’t get damaged.
To Mari, and her gentle humming, as they lay there, under the sun.
“Sunny I wanted to…” She paused, sighed, “No, he’s not here anymore, is he?”
Omori didn’t respond, hand twisting into the fabric of her jumper. He hated him. He hated him.
“Ah, I thought so… Well then, Omori, it’s a lovely day for a picnic isn’t it?”
Something was wrong. Different, she wasn’t treating him the same, even Basil had returned to normal so what had changed?
“Don’t look so scared, Omori, you’re still my brother, you know that.”
She shifted upwards, turning to face him directly, hand comfortingly placed on his knee. Then she smiled, distant, awkward, like reuniting with somebody you haven’t seen for a long, long time.
“I know things have changed. This world won’t let me forget. Every time it resets, I wait for you to cover up the truth again, it was to protect him, wasn’t it? You can’t lie to your big sister, Omori! I know you’re secretly a softie in there somewhere.”
He smiled, shook his head, it was still awkward to talk, but he was free to. The freedom was strange. There had been so many unwritten restrictions before.
“It’s different now…” He said, coughing a little, and shaking his head. “He’s going to- “
“I know. I hoped it would be enough to stop him but he- “
“Made up his mind.”
“He’s always been stubborn like that.”
She turned to face the others, smiling, despite the tears in her eyes. They were laughing, Basil had pushed Hero off the docks on Kel’s orders and was shouting apologies into the water as he swam back to shore, shivering from the cool water.
“I’m sorry about the things I said. About you. I didn’t- I didn’t really expect him to…”
He swallowed, he felt sick, he felt guilty, he wasn’t the one who pushed Mari. But he felt the guilt creep around the corners. Wasn’t this just the same? He was supposed to protect him from the truth.
“Don’t blame yourself, I think Sunny’s done enough of that for everyone. There’s nothing we can do about it now. I died. And so, will you. Or Sunny, I guess you’re not really Sunny in the same way I’m not really Mari. Just… shapes, memories, relics of the past.”
She laughed, reached her hand towards the sky, like she could reach out and grab it, like she could fall in, like she could fly.
“It makes you wonder what will happen to us once he’s gone, doesn’t it? With the dreamer gone, will we die too?”
He shrugged; he didn’t know. There was so much he didn’t know. But there was no time to worry about it now.
He jumped a little when Mari grabbed his hand, beaming at him and scrubbing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Hey Omori, come with me, I wanna show you something… Just in case.”
He smiled. He’d follow her anywhere.
Sunny closed his eyes.
Everything hurt. It was warm again, outside, on the roof. The sun had warmed the cold steel railings, and the breeze was soft against him. He was so, so tired.
So much had happened, these past three days. So, so much. There were so many things he should have said, or done, or apologised for. He wished he had more time. He wished he hadn’t been given as much time as he had.
He was scared. It was one thing to make up your mind, it was another to go through with it. This would really be it. No more adventures, no more silent mornings, no more guilt. No more Kel, or Hero, or Aubrey, no more fights he couldn’t win and no more lies.
So, he closed his eyes and tried to remember.
And then he cried. Sobbed. Cried until his chest hurt and his knees gave out, and he lent against the cool railing and wailed. There had been so much he had tried to forget. Bottled up memories stored away that hurt too much to recollect. There was so much he hadn’t felt.
Mari. Mari and her big smiles, and cookies, and gentle music. The life she could have had. The life he’d stolen from her.
“I’m sorry,” He wailed, tears spilling down his face, chest shuddering with desperate breaths, “I’m so, so sorry.”
He could never have forgiven himself. He took everything from Mari, what made him think he had any right to continue living? He didn’t deserve his friends, he didn’t deserve the dreamscape, he didn’t deserve to live after what he had done.
He didn’t deserve anything. But he hoped.
He hoped that the others forgave him, for leaving, for the truth if they ever discovered it, for hiding, for not saying goodbye.
He hoped that Mari wouldn’t hate him too much, when they saw each other again. She had every right to, but God he hoped.
He hoped his mother got her fresh start in the city just like she wanted, hope she could move away and start over, she deserved to, after everything that Sunny had put her through.
He hoped it didn’t hurt. He’d never been very good with pain.
He hoped Basil forgave himself the way Sunny couldn’t, he hoped Hero succeeded in school, he hoped Aubrey never stopped trying, he hoped Kel would get into the sports team he wanted.
He hoped they didn’t give up. Didn’t blame themselves. He wanted to tell them, want to make them understand. He wanted to make sure they never found out.
He wanted them to cherish the memories, he couldn’t, not anymore, not knowing what he’d done. They weren’t his to cherish.
Sunny had left the photo album on his hospital bed. He hoped they found that first instead of… He’d left something, in the photo album. It wasn’t a letter, or a note, he hadn’t been able to find a pen, and didn’t want to ask in case the nurses got suspicious. He’d plucked the heads of all the flowers they’d left him, they wouldn’t be needed anymore, and pressed them between the pages the way Mari had taught him. He’d left them there, between the pages, he didn’t think they’d understand what it meant.
But he hoped it made it easier, even if only a little. Death was painful. He knew that far, far too well.
Sunny wiped his eyes, and struggled to his feet. The gap in the railing stared back at him, he swallowed, and balled his hands up into fists. The hospital gown brushed against his ankles. His eye throbbed.
This was it.
Omori Stared.
The door in the forest his sister had disappeared into beckoned him. There was nothing on the other side, seemingly. It cast a long shadow, like the door to black space, like the door to white space, like neither. She wandered through it so carefree. But Omori had never seen this door before. He knew there was plenty of the dreamscape they’d never explored, it was as limitless as Sunny’s imagination.
But the door was off-putting. It felt familiar, pulled nausea into his gut like a wave. He felt like he’d seen it before, he just didn’t know where.
He bundled up his courage, took a steady breath and stepped through, shutting his eyes, just in case.
And then he heard laughter, bright, cheerful, a hand on his shoulder to lead him away from the door.
“Why are your eyes closed, silly! You wont be able to see my surprise- Wait no that’s genius! Ok, ok just keep them shut a second longer…”
She guided him across the room, something creaked underneath him, wood? And then stairs, also creaky, her humming guiding, excited, proud.
“Alright, you stand right there and- Tada! Open your eyes!”
The first thing he saw was her beaming face, eyes shining with delight, and apprehension, the slightest twinge of fear. Then he saw the stage. The stage. The recital stage, the empty hall, its expansive wooden plateau, and the hundreds of empty chairs. The place they should have performed in together, once, many years ago.
Then he saw the piano, as perfectly maintained as ever. And smiled as Mari took a seat at its stool, her smile growing more nervous at his silence.
And finally, he saw the violin. Held by its stand by his feet, as perfect as the day he unwrapped it. Not a shard broken or out of place. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he smiled, he would let himself feel, every tug of emotion this place wrung out of him. He wouldn’t be cliff-faced or stoic, he’d cry and he’d laugh because he wasn’t sure he’d have the chance to after this.
“I just thought that… well, this might be the end, right? And we spent all that time practicing. We might as well hold the recital anyway, even if nobody else ends up hearing. Just for us.”
Omori plucked the Violin from its stand, nested it under his jaw and smiled at her, bow clutched tight in his hand. There was no sheet music. There didn’t have to be. The song was ingrained in their heads, as simple as breathing.
“Are you ready?” He asked, in place of answer.
“Our final performance, Omori, let’s make it a good one.”
And the music swelled.
Sunny Fell.
And it didn’t feel like flying, the sky rushing past him, the wind in his hair, the tears on his cheeks. It wasn’t so bad, he told himself, watching the sky fall further and further away, one hand reached out, like he could reach out and grab it, like he could fall in, like he could fly. The wind rushed past him, and for a moment, it sounded like music.
Like piano keys and violin strings.
Like forgiveness.
Like a goodbye.
And Sunny smiled.