Chapter Text
Welcome to White Space.
You don’t remember why you’re here.
Omori opens his eyes, the familiar words echoing in his head.
He’s sprawled out on the blanket that covers the floor, staring straight up at the infinite expanse that makes up the ceiling. A black wire dangles from it, with nothing attached to its end.
He breathes in, and his chest aches; he exhales, and his ribs groan like a house settling. He curls his fingers into the soft material beneath him, and his muscles scream at him to stop. He is... incredibly sore. Agony. Despite this, and against any sense of logic by extent, Omori attempts to pry himself off the ground and onto his two feet.
As he lifts his torso off the ground, his abs and back writhe and he feels his stomach churn. Ow. Bad idea, why did he even try do that? At least he’s sitting upright, that’s a start. He glances around, taking in his surroundings from his new and improved vantage point.
White Space is empty. Well, emptier than usual, that is. Obviously there’s the blanket and the wire, but that’s it. Oh, and there’s some broken, black glass on the floor with some metal components. It all looks just as he remembers it.
... When was the last time he was here, again? What happened?
Omori sits there as he thinks, his gaze slowly shifting to his socked feet; he furrows his brow in concentration. The memory feels so hazy, kind of like he was asleep or something along those lines. Perhaps he was knocked unconscious? He isn’t sure on the wording for it at the moment. He runs down what he remembers:
His name is Omori.
He lives in White Space.
He is a vessel for the Dreamer.
The Dreamer is named Sunny.
He and Sunny got along.
Well, that was until—
Oh yeah. That’s it. He and Sunny fought.
Omori looks over to the shattered glass on the ground. That was it, wasn’t it? The... the lightbulb. He fully stands up this time after a little effort, and despite how much his body has and currently is protesting, he walks over to the shards and picks one up. It’s practically pitch black, absorbing all light that could possibly shine off of it here in White Space.
Yeah, that’s right, its coming back to him now. Sunny hid the truth, and Omori was assigned to protect him from it. Eventually, the boy figured it out, and Omori had to get rid of it, the source of the truth: Sunny.
Omori’s legs begin to wobble.
The two of them fought one another, but Omori was lucky with how Sunny created him. Omori was immortal in a way, never succumbing to death in any sense of the word. But...
His hands began to quiver like bowstrings. He drops the glass shard, and it clatters against the ground uneventfully.
Sunny played his violin. He played the duet with his sister and forgave himself. Omori lost. Sunny won. But... why isn’t he gone? Why is he still standing here?
His head felt light and he began to sway. Pressing the heels of his palms to his temples, he feels pain shoot throughout his skull. He feels like he’s going to fall over. He should steady himself and—
Thud.
Never mind.
Omori’s limbs stopped screaming as he let himself lay on the blanket this time around. Maybe he won’t get up for now. This brief moment of comfort didn’t mean his mind was clear of questions, though. Maybe... maybe he should just take this time to think on those questions and answer them himself. Yeah, that’d be nice—
Wait.
Wait hold on.
Omori’s brow furrowed once again, his eyes growing wide with realization: he was thinking . Why could he think? Disgusting. Wait, and was he emoting, too? He frowns and scrunches up his face; absolutely revolting.
Why could he act independent all of a sudden? He’s still a figment of Sunny’s mind, no? Oh, who is he kidding. He went rogue against his creator, of course there’s side effects to that, like being able to, ugh , think for himself. Gross. He’s not used to this but it feels so second-nature to him already that its annoying. No, he’s not gonna let this stupid train of thought distract him from why he was still existent. Sunny got rid of him completely, right? He disappeared when the fight ended, so that should’ve been that. Is it because he cant succumb? Probably. Well, that and its hard to get rid of a coping mechanism you’ve had for several years now; old demons don’t get exorcised easily.
Omori breathes in, and then breathes out. He throws his head back as dramatically as he can while laying down on the ground, allowing the rest of his body to fully go limp as he stared at the ceiling.
Honestly? He really shouldn’t question his existence right now. Too much thinking business, if he said so himself. Maybe its best to just let himself relax a little. After all, he was incredibly sore from the fight alone.
He wished he could see what Sunny was up to. He was probably awake by now, telling his friends what happened to Mari, but that was the best guess Omori could make for now.
His eyelids felt heavy. A short nap wouldn’t hurt, would it?
He closes his eyes.
Yeah, that sounds nice.