Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I have to tell you something.”

You inhale and try to speak, but choke on your words. You cannot speak. The words won’t leave your throat.

Basil is unconscious, but if he wasn’t, he’d understand what’s about to happen as you keep gasping for air.

“Do you need help, Sunny?”

You shake your head and gather your courage. You shouldn’t keep what happened a secret anymore.

You inhale, exhale, close your eyes — not that it does anything for your right eye, freshly stabbed and now covered with an eyepatch — and blurt the words out.

No response.

You open your eyes. Your friends are looking at you: Kel, pale with shock, Aubrey, pale with anger, and Hero—

You can’t read his expression. Is he calm? Why is he calm?

Nobody speaks. Are they mulling over what you’ve said? What are they going to do, once they are done?

“Sunny,” Aubrey breaks the silence, “Please tell us this is a joke. Please tell us you didn’t do that.”

“Please,” adds Kel. “This isn’t funny, Sunny.”

“He isn’t joking.” You’ve closed your eyes again; this must be Hero’s voice. “He wouldn’t joke about that.”

“We did do that. It was an accident. Sorry.”

“So—”

You open your eyes and make it for the door the moment Hero opens his mouth, and run away. Something — probably thrown by Aubrey — crashes into the wall as you pass through the door. Away, away, as far as you can. You knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have—

Someone is screaming at you to stop. This must be Kel. You don’t listen to what he says and keep running. You run down a flight of stairs, and as you prepare to push a door open, someone snatches you by the waist.

“Please calm down.”

You turn your head and take a closer look at Hero’s expression. He doesn’t look angry, more...distraught? If you saw him like that before, it should have been something minor, like missing a bus and spending half an hour in the rain. Something that wouldn’t ruin his mood.

Not what you’ve just told him.

You jerk, and Hero restrains his grip.

“Please don’t. You need to sit down, drink some water and stop trying to throw yourself off a flight of stairs.”

You ask him if he’s angry.

“I...don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. I feel like I should be angry with you for not telling us about this, but — I understand.”

He hugs you, and you accept, warily.

“We’ll figure it out, I promise.” He carefully leads you back to Basil’s room, back to him, Kel and Aubrey—

“You know what is the best thing about this, Kel? It’s all Sunny! He pushed Mari down the stairs, he ruined the photos, he’s why—” Aubrey stops the moment she notices you entering the room.

Glass crunches under your slippers.

You ask her what she was about to say.

“Nothing, sorry—”

“It sucked for everyone, Aubrey! Hero turned into a depressed wreck who barely left his room, you lost the only responsible person you could look up to, and Basil spent four years living with you harassing him and Sunny being—” He turns to you. “Hey, Sunny, did you even leave your house?”

“He didn’t. I haven’t seen him outside even once.”

“Well, maybe he did sneak out at some point—”

You shake your head, and notice Hero wince.

“See, he didn’t even leave his own house! Mari was his sister, can you imagine how much that impacted him?”

You take a peek at Hero, and he gives you a small nod. It was worse for you.

Aubrey opens her mouth and closes it again. Whatever she wanted to say, for better or better, is left unsaid.

“I’m sorry.” The words leave your mouth, and you can feel more weight disappear from your shoulders.

Tears start running down your cheeks. Hero pushes an open bottle of cold water into your hand, and you start chugging it as the rest of your friends watch.

When it’s finally empty, you start wiping the tears away. You wish you had a tissue or two. Or three.

“There, there.” This must be Hero. “Sit down, Sunny. We need to talk.”

You sit down, and so does everyone else. Over the next ten minutes, you talk about the events of that day, how you felt exhausted and how the argument went and why Basil and you did that. You don’t talk about Headspace.

Once you’re done answering, you open your eyes again. Kel is noticeably distraught, as you have expected. Aubrey must have left while you’ve been talking. Hero is thinking something over; you hope it’s nothing that’s going to end up badly for you.

Someone knocks on the door. It’s Polly.

“Basil, are you awake?”

“He isn’t!” Thank you, Kel. “I hope he awakens soon, we’ve been talking about Sunny leaving—”

“Oh, Sunny, how’s your eye?”

You remove the eyepatch against everything that would be called common sense. Your vision…okay, you still can’t see anything, and your eye hurts from all the bright light in the room. But you can see light, at least.

You say that the eye can see, and Hero exhales in relief.

You say that you don’t blame Basil. Cool, that’s settled. Hopefully he won’t try to stab you again.

“The shears...Sunny, I’m so sorry, I knew I should have taken them away—”

You ask Polly to not talk about this, at least for now, and she nods in a “I don’t like this, but it seems important enough to you two for me to stay silent on the issue” way. She looks around for a chair to sit in, and Hero frees up his.

You say that you want to lie down, and leave.

You leave the hospital in a week, once all is said and done and all thank-yous, first delivered via flowers, are duplicated in person; everyone finds some time to visit. You talk to Basil each day after casting off your weight; you forgive him over the eye. Kel was a real help.

Your mom moves the flowers to the truck with Hero’s help.

“Are you going to keep in touch with him, Henry? Sunny will probably miss his friend.”

“Sunny has a phone, right? Hey, Sunny, do you have a phone?”

You shake your head as you put the wilting gladiolus inside the car.

“I bought him a new phone, Henry! I can add your number as a contact. You’ll give his other friends’ numbers to him, right?”

“Of course. Sunny, you know how to use a phone, right?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Very well. I am going to call you now.”

You don’t remember ever using a cellphone, but it can’t be that hard, right? The small black rectangle with a tiny antenna wakes up, beeping with a demand for attention.

You press the green button.

“Hello!” Hero’s voice greets you both from where he is and from your phone. “Don’t worry, we won’t call you at night, and you can send text messages instead if you want to talk.”

You nod and pocket the phone. Messages are to be saved for later.

Your phone immediately flares up with beeping. You press the green button again, and—

“Hero told me your number, Sunny! Don’t think you can just leave and not keep in touch with us!”

Oh, it’s Kel.

“Sunny, please, help me with the flowers.”

You end the call and help your mom to move the cactus into the van. Kel will understand. He always does.

Chapter Text

Judging from the fact that your mom is at home, it must be Sunday.

You don’t bother to get out of bed. The mattress is soft, the sheets are cool — just as cool as they need to be — and the pillow is handcrafted to make you as comfortable as you can be. Well, it’s most definitely mass-produced, but that doesn’t make it feel any less special.

“Sunny? Sunny, are you awake?”

You knock on the wall in lieu of responding; your mom will most likely understand what you mean.

“Sunny, I made sandwiches! Please eat them while they’re still hot!”

This is an... unusual amount of concern. Maybe, just maybe, you need to go and figure out what’s the deal with the sandwiches, which is exactly what you proceed to do after rolling out of the bed and falling onto another mattress — one your mom laid down after you crashed onto the floor a few times. You swipe the empty pill bottle into the trash can and turn on the light.

You shouldn't have done that, or maybe you should have put on the eyepatch because you feel like someone's taped a flashlight to your right eye and you turn the light off and put on the eyepatch and then turn it on again. There, that's settled.

You look at your PJs — after three years of mostly sleeping in daily clothes and only changing when pressed by your mom, the feeling of changing your clothes twice a day, if not more, is still new — and decide that the dress shirt and the pants can wait.

You open the door. You can feel the sharp smell of coffee, which is what your mother is probably drinking from her cup. There is a pair of BLTs on the table, presumably left for you, and a black ceramic cup with cat ears.

"Good morning, Sunny!"

"Good morning, mom." This will probably do.

Your mother picks up the cup and takes another gulp. As you approach the table, the smell becomes even stronger. You are pretty sure coffee isn't supposed to smell like that.

There's apple juice in the cat cup. Looks like your mother thinks apple juice is better.

"Sunny, we need to talk. We should have talked about this before, but I think doing this now is—"

Yeah you'll pass thanks you don't want to talk especially when it's phrased like that and the door is enticing and you won't—

"Sunny, I am so proud of you."

What?

"The principal told me how you've been doing errands for everyone for these three days and… I didn't expect that. I thought you'd stay in your room until we move, but—"

She stops for a moment. You decide to take a bite of sandwich, and chew as you listen.

"—but you went out of your way to help people! Sunny, I wish I could say I've raised such a good son, because—"

Because she didn't raise you.

"—because even since—" she catches her breath, gulps and continues on, "—since you stopped going outside, I didn't do anything other than letting you stay inside. I should have encouraged Kel and Aubrey to visit you. I should have made sure you went outside, or at least talked to people other than me."

You chew in silence. You should have resumed school, but ever since Mari died, you've been homeschooled, and since you've been doing fine with English and math — fine enough to stay on level with where you should have been — your mother never bothered to actually homeschool you.

"I should have done something about that, and I promise that I'll try to be a better mother from now on."

You nod as you finish the first sandwich. Wow, they're actually edible? You take a sip of juice.

"You've also told your friends what really happened. I — I hope you'll stay friends, and please promise me you won't tell anyone else."

Yeah yeah sure.

"Nobody must know."

You wish you didn't, too.

"And Basil — oh, Basil's parents are never there for him. I will need to talk to Polly and ask her why did Basil stab you in the eye, because—"

You nod as you reach for the second sandwich. She keeps talking about responsibility and other things she is lacking and maybe she could end this rambling because—

"—and can I see your eye?"

You close your eye and lift the eyepatch.

"Open it, please."

You complain that it hurts to see, and ask her to turn off the lights.

"Sure." Your mother frowns.

Flick. You open your right eye.

"I am no doctor, but this looks bad. Keep it safe, please? Mommy thinks you'll be able to fix it later on if you don't ruin it more."

Sure, mom, whatever you say.

"Now, Sunny, we are going to go outside! You need to get acquainted with the block, don't you? You live here from now on and you're going to leave the house a lot!"

You think about protesting, and consider how maybe she's going to stop being so coddling in that regard if you show her that you can do things on your own, just like you've been doing things on your own for three days straight.

"Sure."

Time to put your day clothes on. You close your door and look for the shirt.

"Oh, Sunny, I forgot — the pills are in the fridge! Please take the bottle if yours is empty!"

"Mhmmm."

You open the door, ready to leave this flat for the first time. Or be dragged out of it kicking and screaming, except for all the kicking and screaming is going to be internal. You need to work on your anger.

You bite into the ice cream.

"Sunny, you'll catch a cold if you do that."

"Mhmmm."

"You should eat your ice cream slower."

"Mhmmm."

You elect to slow down and enjoy the park. The playground is notably different from yours and the children are so small—

Wait, no, it's just you being, like, fifteen.

You eye the swing, occupied by a pair of twins. They're just like Mikhael's siblings — what were their names, again? You wonder how they'd look in pastry attire, and drift off as your ice cream starts melting...oops.

You catch the mass into your hand, and swallow it in one gulp.

"Sunny, what are you doing?"

"Eating ice cream." Because you are.

You mom's phone rings, and she responds — and starts talking about something work-related. You decide to follow suit and call someone.

You don't know who to call, though, so you decide to call Kel—

Wait, no, text him instead.

"hey kel it is me sunny"

Now you wait.

"Sorry, Sunny, I need to go and—"

And there you go, back home, to be left until the end of the day as you unpack a box full of books and slowly look through them.

In the evening, when mom comes back, you receive a keyring with a single shiny key on it, and are told not to lose it. Clearly, the solution is to never take it out of the flat—

"Oh, and the local pizzeria is looking for a summer courier, and I was told you were good at delivering pizza, so tomorrow morning you and I are going to get you a summer job!"

You want to scream.

Chapter Text

Working is monotonous.

You are provided with a bicycle, just like at Gino’s, and have to deliver pizza. You use the map — handily supplied by the owner — a lot, because, frankly, you have no idea what the hell is going on around you at any given moment. You are not sure if you are paid well, but — according to the other courier kid, who you don’t want to speak to — you’re paid as much as you’re probably supposed to. At least the addresses are readable.

The days go by. It’s Wednesday, you think, and you only have one more pizza left in your bag. You pass by a music shop—

Wait, the shop ordered the pizza. Guess you’re going in. You open the door and look around — oh wow that’s a lot of guitars. Way too many, even.

You start looking for whoever placed the order. There aren’t any people in this room, so, logically, there must be another room where the owner is. You just have to find the owner.

“Hey, kid, looking for something?” Whoever this adult is, he’s startled you.

You tell him you’re looking for whoever ordered the pizza.

“Ah, okay, I see it. That’s me. You want to talk to my father, though, he’s the one paying for the pizza.” Great, one more person you don’t want to interact with.

You move aside a curtain and hail the wiry old man sitting on the counter next to a guitar.

“Ah. The pizza boy. Where the hell have you been?”

You try to defend yourself, saying that you had a lot of orders to deal with and you’re the only courier working today—

“Kid, you’re on time. Why are you defending yourself if you’re in the right?”

You tell him that you don’t know.

“Oh, you’re just like my useless son. Look at him. What a waste of a man. He only started fixing his life a year ago. Never knew what to do with his life until I had to pull him out of his slump.”

You stay silent. You could say that his son is trying to fix his life, and you’ve been through a four-year slump yourself, but you don’t feel like arguing against this rude old man.

“Anyway, where’s the pizza?” The old man slides down as you hand over the box. “Oh, it’s still warm. They know how to make good pizza. Where the hell are you, Kevin?”

“I’m here, father.” The old man’s son reappears, carrying a violin in his arms. “Do you want me to—”

“I want you to put that violin down and eat this pizza with your father, as you’re supposed to. Don’t drop it like that! Where’s the case? Put it in the case and oh what is wrong with you....”

The old man continues his tirade and drops a can of Cola into a trash bin. You sneak a peek into it and notice bandages and skin-coloured patches.

The son returns with a violin case, and sits down in a chair next to the father. You feel like you’re supposed to leave now.

“Wait, kid. I owe your shop money.” He hands over a signed cheque. “Pass it over to the owner. He’s an old friend of mine, he’s fine with me paying like this.” You are not sure what you are supposed to do with the cheque.

It takes you a while to get back to the shop. The cheque, thankfully, is accepted without issue. You get your payment and decide to clock out.

It’s Wednesday, again. You’re enjoying a day off. The only pizza next to you is the pizza you’re entitled to eat.

You bite into another slice, and chew down on the cheesy goodness. Life is good.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Hey, it’s open—”

Wait, you forgot to lock it. Oh no. Someone opens the door, and you eye the intruders through a narrow slit of a nearly-closed door that stands between the safest place on the Earth and everywhere else. That is, the door to your room.

What are they doing here?

“I don’t think he’s not at home, he literally didn’t leave his room for four years.”

“And then he did leave his room.”

“Well, he would probably lock the door if he left.”

“You’re assuming he had a key.”

“Do you think his mother would not leave him a key if she wanted him to go out?”

“Why do you think his mom would want him out?”

“Because I don’t think she’d be cool with him staying inside all the time again.”

“I think you’re missing out on something that makes it obvious this knife-wielding — OW!”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I am—”

“We’re his guests, Angel. Kim’s in the right. What were you saying, anyway?”

“There’s a smell of pizza from that room.”

Your presence has been spotted, and you push the door open. Just as you’ve thought, there are a total of five Hooligans, with a big box behind them. Judging by the lack of pink, Aubrey isn’t present amongst them.

“Hey, Sunny.” Kim still takes charge in her absence, then. “We’ve come bearing gifts.”

Of course, instead of greeting them, or asking what gifts they bear, you question Aubrey's absence.

“She's...I don't know. She doesn't want to talk about this. When I tried to raise the topic, she just left.”

Charlene and Vance push the box into your room. You approach, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize the toybox.

“There must be something important inside, huh?” Mikhael, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Your mother left it behind when she was moving, and we took the liberty to claim it, but since nobody has a key—”

“I have a key.” You lean down and look for the keyhole. “It-it’s in the album.”

“The album? You mean, Basil’s photo album? There wasn’t any key inside the previous time I’ve looked into it.’

“It was stuck to a photo in the treehouse. Someone left it there. I don’t know who did that.”

You still don’t know, and you probably never will.

Kim pushes the album into your hands, and you crack the album open. You flick the pages as you search for the treehouse photo — it’s bulging out. You pluck the photo free, and remove the key.

You don’t want to open the box.

You don’t want to look into the box.

You wish you weren’t here.

“Come on, Sunny.”

You close your eyes, push the key inside and rotate it. The lock clicks, and Angel pushes the lid open.

You already know what’s inside.

“The violin? Your broken violin is such a well-guarded treasure?”

Someone slaps the Maverick again; you think it’s Kim.

You carefully lift the violin out of the box. There’s nothing to be done here. It’s ruined beyond repair. Maybe you could talk to the music shop owner if the violin could be repaired? You don’t know if you want to, though.

“Hey, Sunny, mind if we eat your pizza?”

You point towards a stack of pizzas — bought with the Tuesday’s wage — and wave in a show of invitation. You have a more important thing to consider.

Like the cost of a violin. Which, according to a quick internet search — it doesn’t take a long time for you to boot up a computer — is in the neighbourhood of six hundred dollars. Wow that’s a lot. It’d take you what, a month of labour to save up for a violin?

You turn the computer off and decide to unpack a moving box. This one has paperwork — notebooks, letters, sketches...

Sketches.

You aren’t sure why all these sketches are out of their rightful place inside the sketchbook, because you definitely didn’t tear them out, and the crumpled-and-straightened paper state is a mere coincidence.

You throw an unsealed letter out of the way and start gathering the sketches. Maybe you can put them into a binder and perforate on your own? That may work.

Your work is interrupted by Kim, who tells you that the group’s leaving. She bends over to pick something up.

You ask her if she dropped something, and she points at her glasses as she’s hiding something into her pockets. Whatever, she can have the candy.

You wave the group away, and lock the door behind them.

Now, for the difficult part: the cleanup.

Chapter Text

“Sunny, dear, what has happened here? Why is the trash bin full of pizza boxes?”

Your mom is inspecting the trash bin. She must have found the results of your (and the Hooligans') feast.

“I bought pizza.”

“You bought pizza with the money you’ve earned? Sunny, that is a lot of pizza. You couldn’t have eaten all that pizza in one go.”

You tell her that you’ve planned to save it for later, but you’ve got unexpected guests and—

“Hold on! What were these rascals doing here? Did you just let them in?”

“Yes.”

“And they brought something? There are lines on the carpet. What happened, Sunny?”

You show her the toybox, safely stuck in your room.

“Oh. This. Um. Well, Sunny, I think we should throw it away. I don’t think it’s okay for you—”

You interrupt your mother and tell her that it’s fine.

“Um, well, I understand that it’s very hard for you to refuse when pressed, but you shouldn’t have let them leave the toybox here. It’s bad for your health.”

You tell her it’s fine, and besides that you don’t have the key either way — it got lost years ago and you have no idea where it could be. You are not sure you’re fine with lying to your mother like that, but then again she’s telling you to stand your ground.

“Good! Now, Sunny, your pocket money — I think now that you know the value of money you’ve earned, I can give you more pocket money.” She hands you a small black wallet, probably containing the aforementioned pocket money. “Sunny, I hope you’re going to be responsible with your money.”

You open the wallet and oh that’s a lot of money. That’s too much money, even. You expected twenty or so dollars, not six hundred dollars. Six hundred dollars is exactly how much a violin costs, which is definitely a coincidence because your mother does not want you anywhere near your old broken violin.

That’s an unreasonable amount of money no matter how you frame it.

“Now, Sunny, do you have any pizza left? I’m starving. Please take your pills and go to bed, it’s way too late in the evening.” The clock chimes eleven. You point your mother towards the untouched pineapple pizza, which she grudgingly accepts as the only remaining food item. “I need to cook something…”

You shut the door, change into your pyjamas, take a pill, turn off the lights, remove your eyepatch and drop into bed.

It’s Friday evening, and you’re back at the music shop.

“Oh, kid, it’s you again. Did you bring pizza?” You shake your head. The other kid is the one working this evening. “Why did you come here, then? To gawk at instruments? Buy something or leave.”

You tell him that you want to buy a violin. Three-fourths—

“Kid, you’re too old for three-fourths. How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” It feels weird to admit that, again.

“You’re too small to be fifteen. Did your parents starve you or what? Still, you’re a bit too small of a child for a full-sized one. I have one seven-eighths remaining, you should be fine with it.”

The old owner reaches behind the counter and retrieves the same case you’ve seen back then.

“It’s covered in scratches, but the sound should be acceptable. You know what violin sizes are, you’ve played before?”

You give him a nod. You don’t say that you haven’t touched a working violin for four years.

“Care for a demonstration?”

You have never played for an audience, and you don’t feel like doing it now. On the other hand, you aren’t losing anything, and you could really make use of checking if the violin actually works the way you need it to.

You nod, and the owner hands you over the violin case. You put it down and open it.

The violin is covered in minute scratches, and is slightly bigger than your old broken one. You’ve grown up, too. It should probably be just right.

You pick up the violin and the bow, rest your chin down and close your eyes.

“You know what you’re going to play, right?”

Your fingers hurt, red with exhaustion.

“You’ve got it wrong again!”

You can never stop. The recital is going to happen soon.

Mari is breathing heavily, trembling as she’s trying to close the fallboard without slamming it down on her fingers. She stands up and pushes away from the piano, turning on her heel and running out of the room.

You need to get better. But you don’t know what it is that you keep getting wrong.

You’re doing okay. You’re doing enough. And she believes that you’re not doing enough.

When you confide in Hero that you feel like Mari is pushing herself too much, he says that he understands.

“She’s nervous about the recital, just like you are.” He swallows a bite of sandwich. “She pushes herself too hard. Your father has never seen the two of you play together, and she doesn’t want to make a flawed impression.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s worth it to press yourself that far for the sake of someone who doesn’t care about you.

Mari doesn’t. She never does.

You open your eyes. You can swear your fingers are bleeding, but, upon a quick inspection through your one good eye — an eye full of tears — you realize it’s fine.

“Change your eyepatch, kid. It’s soaking.”

You wipe the tears away and ask him if it was good.

“Kid, you’re a virtuoso. There’s something heavy in your past and you’ve given it all when you’ve played.”

He stops for a second and closes his eyes, as if trying to gauge something in his mind.

“Have you been playing since birth? Nobody’s that good at your age. Well, nobody I’ve seen in my long life.”

You turn around and see the owner’s son, deep in thought. You might have seen him before, maybe.

“You’re buying it, right? Six hundred dollars and all this is yours.”

Six hundred dollars it is.

Chapter Text

The new violin is stored safely in the toybox in its own case. You add the toybox key to the keyring, where it belongs.

You spend the Saturday morning with your violin; thankfully, your mom isn’t at home. A quick internet search gives you a violin score for a relatively short yet recently acclaimed song. The song, however, must have been around for a while, given the award's description.

You keep the score open and start playing.

It takes you a while to compose yourself and get to a level where you’re satisfied with how you’re handling the violin, which surprises you a lot given how the shop owner reviewed your performance. Your muscle memory is a bit rusty, given the four years gap, but it’s better than you could have expected.

What really happened there?

You think someone you know would love to hear you play, and decide to call him. Thankfully, he has tried to call you nine times so far.

“Hi Sunny!”

“Hello, Kel.”

“You’ve finally decided to call me on the phone! What’s up?”

“I’ve bought a violin.”

It takes Kel a while to process what you’ve just said. He probably doesn’t believe you.

“You’ve bought a violin.”

“I’ve bought a violin.”

“Mom, Dad, Sunny’s gonna play for us!”

“I am not going to play for you.”

You look at the violin. There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, it ends.

“Sunny, you’ve called me and said that you’ve bought a violin. You wouldn't say that if you didn't want me to know that you’ve picked up the violin again. You want to perform for an audience but I’m the only one who can listen to you, right?”

You blink. Kel must have consulted his parents, and you do want to let Kel listen.

“Okay. Sunny, press the dynamic button.”

You look for the dynamic button, and eventually find it. Click.

The room is flooded with noise, presumably from Kel being in a fast-driving car with his parents.

You put the phone down, pick the violin up and start playing.

You don’t expect Kel’s parents to start singing along, but you keep playing. They seem to enjoy it.

“...I love you.”

You put the instrument down.

“Thank you very much, Sunny. This is a song of our youth, and boy do we miss it…” Kel’s dad seems to be overjoyed.

“It almost feels like we’re young again! You know, there’s two children with us in the car, so it’s only almost!”

“Thank you.”

“Sunny, you’re really good! Are you going to visit? I miss you a lot and would really like to see you again!”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know, Kel!”

You hear your mom’s keys rattle in the door, and silently exhale. You aren’t hiding the violin this fast.

“Sunny, I’m…”

She stares you down.

“Sunny, is that your mom?”

“Kel? You’re on the phone with Kel?”

“Hello there! Your son just played us a song that is very important to us!” Right, your mom and Kel’s mom were good friends. Are good friends. You are not sure.

“Oh, I am so glad he’s—” She looks at you, unnerved, with black bags under her eyes. “—trying to do things that other people like. However, I need to talk to him for now.”

Your mother takes a step forward, and collapses on the floor. You rush towards her as she pulls herself back up, and help her to stand up.

“Thank you, dear. Sunny, can you please end the call?” You don’t like how she sounds.

“See you, Kel.”

“See you, Sunny.”

Your mother sits down, next to food bags, and yawns. Did she even sleep today?

“Sunny,” she stops for a second as she lifts her head, “did you spend all your money on a violin?”

You nod. That’s your money and your choice to spend all that money on the new-ish violin.

“You know that’s irresponsible, right? You’ve broken your first violin. Are you sure you’re not going to break this new one?”

“I’ll try.”

“You were very irritated over your practice. Always so agitated when Mari pushed you to do better. I think it’d be better for you to stop playing.”

“Thanks, mom.” You don’t mean it.

“Don’t sass me, Sunny.”

You close your eyes in a display of defiance, and go over to pack the violin back into its case.

It’s Sunday. You’re making your way through a textbook when your phone rings.

It’s Hero.

“Sunny, it’s Hero.”

“I know.”

“Kel told me about your performance. Said he hasn’t seen his parents talk about their youth that much since forever. Sunny, how’s your new violin?”

“It’s fine. Covered in scratches, but fine.”

“You bought it with your own money, right?”

“Yes. Um. With my pocket money.”

“Your mother gave you a thousand dollars as pocket money?”

“Six hundred. For four years.”

“Huh.” You don’t know what you could have expected from Hero other than a “huh”. Six hundred dollars is a lot of money, and probably a lot of clams. “Sunny, I am currently in your city—”

Cool.

“—but cannot visit. I don’t know when we’re going to meet up next, but I’m looking forward to seeing you again. We miss you.”

“Thank you, Hero.”

The call ends, and you wonder why Aubrey didn’t bother to contact you. Doesn’t she have a phone line?

Wait, does she even know your number?

You put the textbook away. God, you’re sleepy. Did you take your pills? You don’t remember taking the pills. Either way, you can probably get a good night’s sleep today.

You get ready for sleep, and close your eyes...

...and open them again.

Chapter Text

You’re lying on a barren floor in a vast, colourless expanse. A wire is hanging from the ceiling behind you, ending roughly six feet above the ground with a light socket. Black glass is scattered below it, left over after the confrontation with your guilt.

There’s a black pencil in your pocket.

You don’t feel like moving.

There’s nobody else inside. What did you expect, Sunny? To meet someone specific in this little bleak refuge?

Mewo — or what you remember of her — purrs. You want to pet her. That would require you to move from your spot. Therefore, you stand up.

It’s so cold here. It’s nothing like the cold you’re used to in this space; this is the cold of deep snowy winter, not the cold of an unheated room.

You need some walls here. Now. You’re not sure where you should place them. Right around these black lines, suggesting walls? That would be too small a room for you to live in comfortably.

You double-check yourself. Since when did you start wanting to live comfortably here? Since when did you start wanting to deserve comfort, or to—

You bat the thought aside and approach the door to the Neighbours’ Room. It’s locked. You may want to open it in the future, though, so—

So it only makes sense to place the wall here.

You put your palm on the door, and drag it to the right.

A tall, blank, featureless white wall arises from the ground as you keep walking, leaving a fortification to protect you from the wind. You keep walking until — wait, where do you stop?

You step back and lean down to the corner of the black rectangle. You want it to be in the center, so you pull the pencil out of your pocket and draw a line, until you roughly line it up with the first wall. You’ll remove the line later.

You continue your work on the walls, until the White Space you can interact with is constrained to a much smaller area. You decide to add a big window to your eastern wall, if only to have a way out of the box, and a pair of heavy black light-blocking curtains. Next, you get rid of the diagonal lines, but you keep the rectangle — it’s going to be useful later.

Now, for the ceiling. It takes you a while to figure out how to leave a ceiling behind, but once you’re done, there’s a tall ceiling above you, with a small hole for the lightbulb socket. No matter what you do, it won’t go away.

Now, for the wallpaper. The first thing that springs to your mind are wooden planks of the treehouse — nope, that won’t do. You need something else.

You knock onto the wall behind you twice and let it be flooded with green and blue: a field of grass and the sky above it. You don’t bother with a sun — you wouldn’t know where to place it.

Now, for the amenities.

Maybe you can draw them.

You want a carpet, so you put the pencil down on the floor and start rolling it, covering it in black, until the black rectangle on the floor is filled in with the black carpet. If you keep waking up there, you’ll have the carpet to lie on instead of the bare floor — speaking of the floor, you’d rather make it wooden, which you do with a tap of your foot.

Mewo takes notice and moves to the carpet, rolling on her back. What a good cat. You envy her: you’re not a cat and cannot have such a leisurely life.

Next, the laptop. You need a working table and a chair, which you draw on the wall to pull them out. You move the laptop to the table, and leave it there; the sketchbook goes next to it. You put a chest of drawers — empty, for now — next to the table.

Now, the lighting. You need a table lamp and overhead lighting that isn’t this hollow lightbulb socket.

You add the first, and settle on a circular array of ten in round covers for the second. You put the switches on the wall, right next to your table—

Wait, you can make them into the Solar System. If only you had the colour pencils. You probably do, since some of these sketches in the sketchbook use red and you hope they weren’t drawn with your blood.

You find a set of crayons in the drawers, where they ought to be. Of course.
The Solar System feels like it took an hour or two, but once it’s complete, you turn the lights off and then turn the Sun on. Soft, yellow light floods the room.

You’ll have to remove Pluto, eventually.

You also need a bed, which you put in a corner right next to a window. You make sure to make it as comfortable as your real-life one is, because if you’ll keep waking up in this accursed place you may as well do it in a way that’ll be enjoyable.

The tissue box is empty. You draw a trash bin to get rid of it, and it disappears as you toss it where it belongs.

There, that’s settled. You’ll probably have to add a wardrobe or two, but for now, your White Space is less a place you exist in and more a place you can survive in. Maybe you’ll make it a place you can live in, even — and live with comfort.

Not now, though.

There’s an uninvited guest battering against the window.

Hello there, RED HAND.

There are cracks on the window, and you’re not sure you’re armed, but then it clicks.

The desire to live and thrive has always been with you, just like these treasured memories. The violin is but a representation.

The bow of the new violin flickers into existence as the window breaks, and the RED HAND slithers into the room. You take a closer look: instead of being a colourless snake-like appendage with a sinister red glow, it’s your own blood-splattered arm of a murderer. You’re a murderer, Sunny. Fear grips your heart—

You need to calm down, now, before it’s too late. You start breathing heavily as you move forward, trying to block the spectral assailant’s swipes.

Do not think about it. They have forgiven you. She has forgiven you. Your friends all love you, and you don't deserve to feel like you don't deserve to exist.

You can feel the grip let go, as you slam your elbow into the HAND’s finger and slash at it with your bow, blocking the next swipe as it comes. As the swipes keep coming, you try to work out the pattern, figuring out where the next blow will come from and where the weak point could be—

Of course.

You dodge the next blow, and impale the HAND through the hand’s foundation, where the forearm meets the palm. If Hero was here, he could probably tell you how these bones are called. Doctors probably know that, just like they know what exactly happened to your eye — not that you're sure yourself.

You twist and yank the bow until the HAND is done for, and it explodes in a shower of blood, which instantly disappears.

You need a break because you didn’t expect a fight to be this bloody outside of the Black Space and — wait, you need to fix the window. Tap, tap, tap. Shutter the curtains, to block out the white light of the outside.

There’s something else you need to do, but that can wait. You’re tired.

You drop into the newly-constructed bed and doze off.

Chapter Text

You’re lying in your bed. It’s still noticeably dark. Somehow, there is no usual ache in your chest which you got so accustomed to over the years, and—

You didn’t stab yourself in the chest that time, did you? You haven’t even seen a knife.

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you’re hungry and there might be some steak in the fridge, so, maybe, you should leave your bed and go raid the fridge.

The clock happily informs you it’s four in the morning. The door to your mother’s room is open, and there’s no middle-aged woman you call your mother sleeping inside.

She’s probably at work, so she isn’t here to send you back to bed for switching on the microwave.

Once it chimes, telling you that the steak is ready, you take it out and dully stare at the heated piece of grilled meat. What were you doing, again?

It’s your favourite food, so you should probably eat it. You stick a fork into the meat and start cutting it into pieces with a knife.

Why is your mother at work at four in the morning, anyway? Where does she work, again? Maybe you can find the answer in her room.

There’s a business card from her weird adult place of employment on the counter, naming an address not far from one of the further places you had to deliver pizza to. You have no idea what she does for a living. Probably something that isn’t pizza delivery.

You pocket the card and look at the inner wall, opposite to the windows. There’s a teen-sized bicycle, leaning against the wall and waiting to be used, presumably by you.

You don’t remember any reason for you to receive this bicycle, though, but you’re probably going to make use of it sooner or later. Mom probably bought it as a present for you, but you have no idea what kind of a celebration that’s intended for. A birthday? You don’t think your birthday is anywhere soon. Maybe it’s been intended for you for a while and she just forgot to give it to you.

Anyway, you probably shouldn’t touch it yet, and making it there by foot isn’t going to be that hard. You consider slipping into your daywear, but realize you didn’t change into pyjamas in the first place.

You label the card “Mom’s working place” — just to be sure — and put it into your wallet, find your phone and pick up your keys. You’re ready to leave.

You close the door behind you and descend the stairs.

The night city is way more dull than you expected it to be. What is “night life”, even? Where are other people? Are you the only person to walk around in these unreasonable hours?

You could probably take a night bus to get there faster, and do so. The driver mutters something about curfews, but lets you inside after you pay him for the ticket.

You’re not sleepy, but the trip still takes a while to bore you out, and you almost start daydreaming (or nightdreaming?) before the driver announces that it’s your stop and you should probably hurry up home.

You leave the bus and go to the labeled address; it takes you around five minutes to find the entrance. Your mother’s car is right outside, so she must be inside. The security guard is asleep; you do your best to not disturb him and sneak inside right under his nose.

Now, to find your mother. She must be somewhere in the building — wait, the card said something about the seventh floor, didn’t it. Maybe her place of employment is on the seventh floor. Thank god there’s an elevator so you don’t have to walk all the stairs up.

There’s nobody on the seventh floor, barring a pair of people seated at a table in a big room and someone dozing off in its far corner. Maybe that’s your mother?

You take a step forward, and are immediately noticed.

“What are you doing here?”

You stammer and try to blurt out that—

“Wait, you’re—” The woman at the table turns to the sleeping figure. “Hey, your son is here! Wake up, you should go home!”

The sleeping figure is indeed your mother.

“Sunny, what are you doing there? Why aren’t you asleep? How did you get past the security guard?”

You tell her he was asleep.

“Oh. Right. Thanks, you two, we’re going home now.”

Tucked into bed, you wake up in your sanctuary.

Someone with access to the White Room — this is a temporary name for this place you’ll probably replace sooner or later — decided that a nice do-over consisting of an erratic mess of black scrawlings on the walls would be acceptable.

You have no idea what or who could accomplish this, other than your very own self-hatred problem. You scrawled out these photos, didn’t you?

You did do that.

You’ll have to restore them, then. There has to be some rubbing alcohol in the drawers - oh, there it is.

It’s hard and grueling work, removing these stains. You can imagine how Aubrey felt when she had to clean up the photos, one by one.

You miss Aubrey. You miss Kel and Hero, too, but you have spoken to them over the phone, and Basil-

You tried to call Basil a few times, but the one who answered was always Polly, and she always told you to call later. Perhaps she might have a reason to keep you from talking to Basil? Or a reason to keep Basil from talking to you?

You need to call Aubrey once you wake up, and then it hits you - you don’t know her number.

You wipe away the last stain, and look at the pristine grassy make-do wallpaper.

Something is missing. Or someone.

The black marker is still there, in your pocket, so you decide to start with a sketch of yourself. You’ll need a mirror, though, to get a better look.

You decide to draw yourself sitting cross-legged on the grass, holding the photo album and -

If you’re going to be surrounded by your friends, you should probably be smiling. You try to smile, and copy the expression onto the wall.

Looks genuine enough.

Your friends could be drawn in monochrome, to follow suit. You grab a fistful of markers and look at them.

The orange one looks fitting for Kel. He could be standing behind you, crouching to be right above you with a cheerful smirk on his face.

The navy one can be Hero. You’re not sure what colour would fit him the best, but, given his navy sweater, this one makes sense. He could be standing next to Kel, hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling, happy to be with the group.

The pink one is definitely Aubrey. You outline the jacket and the hair separately, and dot the eyes with the neon blue marker. She’s leaning on your right shoulder, staring the hypothetical observer - you - down with a bored expression on her face.

Speaking of the neon blue, that one should be Basil, if only because that’s how you remember him in the Headspace, and - well, it’s a fitting colour given his eyes. He’s on your left, inspecting the polaroid camera, ready to take a photo.

The purple marker is heavy in your arm and you don’t know what to do with it, but there’s empty space in the composition right behind the brothers so there it goes.

You portray Mari the way she would look if she was still with you.

Chapter Text

You’re awoken around noon.

“Sunny, I’m going to be gone for a week, so, please, remember to call me daily and—” your mother stops, yawning as she tries to combat the obvious lack of sleep with another cup of coffee, “—don’t forget to do the chores.”

Wash the dishes you use, vacuum the flat, buy the food if you need any — the money’s on the counter — and don’t forget to go outside.

All manner of activities to keep you from daydreaming in your room.

You nod, receive a forehead smooch from your mother and look at her leaving as she closes the door.

Once again, you’re alone for a while. You decide to check the fridge for juice, and find none there.

You should probably go and buy some, seeing as your mother isn’t going to do that. For this, you'll need your old school backpack — wait, your mother bought you a new one. That will do even better.

You aren’t going to walk to the shop, of course, because you have a bicycle and your mother won’t notice that you’ve made use of it if you put it back.

You drag the bicycle out of your mother’s room and down the stairs. The sun is high in the sky, partially hidden by summer’s fluffy clouds.

There are few people outside, for whatever reason. Isn’t it a working day? Maybe most of them are inside?

Wait, you’re supposed to report to the pizzeria, and—

You crash into someone else’s bicycle. Whoops. That will probably be hard to hide from your mother.

“Where the hell are you going?” the girl yells, “You’re suppo...Sunny?”

Oh, it’s Berly...Kim. Kimberly. It’s Kimberly.

“Kim?”

“Sunny, what the hell? You crashed into me like you’re not looking where you’re going.”

Oh, uh, well, you tell her that you were going to buy juice and report in for your pizza delivery job and anyway what is she doing here in the city? Isn’t the Faraway Town, like, far away from the city?

“Not really, it’s just a few hours by bike through the forest if you know the route.”

You help the girl — still glaring daggers at you — on her feet, and she lifts her bike.

“I need your help with Aubrey.”

What?

You stop for a second and start mulling this over. Why does Kim need help with Aubrey? Aren’t they best friends or something? When it comes to Aubrey, anything you can help to resolve, Kim can resolve just as good as you, if not better.

You start walking to the pizzeria with your bicycle next to you, steered by your arms. Kim follows you by, and you tell her that you need to talk to the pizzeria owner first.

As you arrive, you tell the owner that you are going to be away from the city for a while, so—

“No work, no wage. You know how it goes. I can lay you off for a while, we just got a new employee.” The teenage girl — she looks a year or two younger than you — smirks at you. “She’ll cover for you and get the money you were supposed to earn. Now, you’re a customer, and—”

You decide to buy a pizza and fold it over to stick it into your backpack. On your way to the market, Kim starts talking.

“It all started right after you and Basil, um, had your fight and Aubrey came back from the hospital. She hasn’t been herself ever since then. She was always angry at Basil, her parents, everyone, but this — it hurts me to see her like that. She feels broken.”

You tell her that you don’t know what to do, but you’ll try talking it out with her.

“I keep trying to talk her into settling this with you or Basil, but she doesn't want to talk. I passed her the letter I stole from your room—”

You brake hard and clench onto the handlebars. She what?

“—and she still hasn’t done anything. She refuses to talk to us, and—”

“—and you think I can do something you can’t?”

"You, Kel and his brother got her to leave her house that day, so, maybe, yes, I think you're one nerd who knows what to do."

You decide to overlook the stealing, since it's technically Aubrey's letter so maybe you can talk to Aubrey about it, assuming that Kim will get you to Faraway through the forest.

You stop next to the shop and ask Kim if she wants anything other than candy.

"Get me some juice, too."

Once you leave the shop, you toss Kim her taffy tithe, and she snatches the bag out of the air. The two of you open the juice bottles — yours has apple juice, hers has cherry juice. You grabbed bottles of watermelon and orange juices too, just in case.

"So, are you going?"

You nod.

"Good. We'll have to hurry up if we want to arrive while people are still awake."

You tell her that you forgot to grab something from your house, and climb onto your bicycle. Kim follows you as you cycle home.

"Something important?"

There's no shame in admitting.

"Sleeping pills."

"You're suffering from insomnia? Aubrey told me you were sleepwalking, are these problems related?"

You tell her that you don't know, but it might be just so.

You leave your bicycle at the door, scale the stairs, open the door and pocket the sleeping pills.

You lock the door and descend. Wait, maybe—

No, you are not taking the violin with you. It's too fragile and you definitely don't want to break it in case you fall off your bike or crash into something or someone like you just did.

"You took your time."

You apologize and say you considered taking your violin with you—

"Your violin is a pile of wood."

"I bought a new one."

"You bought a new violin? May I see it?"

Sigh.

The two of you return to your room as you unlock the toybox and open the violin case. The scratched instrument beckons. Maybe you should play.

"I'm not playing it now." You're not in the mood to perform, maybe because it's not someone you trust right next to you. You trust Kel and his family, and you trust Hero, and you trust Basil and Aubrey, but Kim... You don't trust Kim that much.

Maybe you're just not good enough and the owner was wrong about you being a virtu-whatever.

"If you're not playing it, you should hurry up and get back on your bike."

Still as bossy as ever, Kimberly.

"Sure."

Chapter Text

The forest is pleasantly cool and humid. You're not sure that you enjoy the feeling of being far away from your comfort zone, but at least you're going to a place that is a comfort zone for you.

Kim leads the way. You have no idea how she navigates these paths.

"It was a matter of direction, not a specific route. Your city is big enough that if I were to go straight north I'd be guaranteed to run directly into it. After that, it's just finding a route that I can get through."

You ask her why does she say it won't take long for the two of you to reach Faraway, when it took you a while to reach it by car.

The answer presents to you as a wide river with a wooden bridge across it.

"Charlene said that the costs of demolishing this section of the forest would have been too high, so," Kim gestures at the bridge, "they had to make do with a long and winding route around the forest."

You pass by a pair of people in a boat, wearing green uniforms. One of them notices you're eyeing them, and hails you.

"Eye on the road, pirate!"

You aren't a pirate. You do only have one working eye, just like Captain Spaceboy. Maybe you can become a space pirate? You ask Kim, and she calls you a nerd.

An hour or so later, she stops. You follow suit.

"We need to get up the ramp, here."

The ramp is extremely steep and you really don't like it, but you probably don't have a choice. You dismount and start walking up—

You stumble and fall. You hope you didn't break anything inside your backpack.

"Hey, this isn't funny. Stand up."

You're too tired to stand up.

"We are almost there and you refuse to stand up? Come on."

You're exhausted and have been cycling for hours after like no activity. Kim wants too much.

"Fine, a break it is."

You open the juice bottle and finish it. No trash cans. Hopefully you'll find a recycling stand—

"The recycling lady is still there. You can just give the bottle to her."

Recycling is a concept.

You close your eyes and—

"Hey, no sleeping!"

You mount and cycle on.

You emerge from the forest into your hideout place, and speed towards Aubrey's house. It's already night; you're not sleepy.

You break as you arrive, and — as Kim watches — demonstratively press the door handle down.

It's locked.

Window it is.

You pull the bicycle to the window when Kim yanks you by your backpack.

"You can't just break into Aubrey's house like that! What if her mother calls the police?" Like she ever would.

You lean it against the wall, climb onto it and crawl through the window, landing onto the floor.

The husk of a woman — lost in inebriated delirium — is watching the broken television. You almost feel sorry for her as you unlock the door and let Kim in.

"Be quiet," you sign.

"What?"

"Be quiet."

"I don't know what that means in sign language, sorry."

You put your index finger to your lips and shoosh her.

"Got it," she whispers, "anything else?"

You inform Kim that Aubrey lives in the attic, and she nods in a clear show of discomfort.

The two of you make your way to the hallway when the husk stirs.

She stands up and approaches the passage as you scutter and hide behind the ladder and an empty box; Kim follows suit and takes cover behind the boxes blocking the way to, presumably, the husk's room.

She notices you, or you think that something of the sort occurs as her eyes meet your eye. You spend a few seconds motionless, hoping that she won't process what's going on — and wondering what she's thinking.

Finally, she enters the bathroom, possibly convinced that you are a hallucination. You climb the ladder.

The lights are on.

Bun-Bun is asleep, and so is his owner. The room feels empty with the photos missing. It reminds you of your very own White Room, if more abandoned.

You crouch down and pet the bunny. It opens its eyes, and starts chewing onto a carrot left behind in its cage. The bunnies never stop chewing. Maybe it’s going to chew on you, next, and you should—

This is Aubrey’s pet bunny and she’ll probably be infuriated if you harm it. Not to mention that bunnies are vegetarians.

Probably.

You slowly approach Aubrey, who is asleep at her table. The first thing to catch your eye is the pale line on her arm - this is a consequence of your actions.

Maybe one day you'll stop hurting people you care about.

The second, though, is somewhat unexpected. You don't think this should be here, in its current broken and mangled form, instead of where you’d expect to find it. So this is what she threw at you?

You reach out and gently trace the scar with your thumb. Aubrey must be so tired of this mess.

She wakes up, and, judging from how you lurch backwards right after that, she isn't happy about your presence here.

Chapter Text

There’s a lot of things you’ve done, and a lot of things you wish you haven’t.

The polaroid camera misses Sunny’s back and hits a wall with a crack, likely breaking in the process.

Another thing to regret.

“Sunny, where are you going? STOP!”

Hero pats Kel’s shoulder and leaves the room. He doesn’t acknowledge your tantrum. It feels even worse, now that you’ve just made up.

“Aubrey, what the—”

“D-don’t ask.”

You stagger towards the camera and pick it up. You can’t get a good grasp on the camera, but you try to not drop it as you shove it into your jacket’s pocket.

“Give it back.” Kel approaches you, palm open. “It’s Basil’s camera. Do you—”

“I’m n-not giving it back, Kel.” You don’t know what you’re doing. Why are you doing this? Why do you keep being like this?

Kel stares you down. You don’t know what to say, other than to wall yourself off, just like you’ve always done for these four years.

He killed Mari, your mind chimes in. He killed Mari and Basil helped him to cover that up. She’s all you had.

“She’s all I had.”

“I was there, Aubrey! You could have talked to me, or—”

“You abandoned her, just like Basil and Hero did. I shouldn’t have come with you. Basil ruined the photos—”

“He didn’t. It was Sunny.”

“What?”

The camera in your pocket feels heavier than you remember. Why does Basil still use this old camera, anyway—

It was Mari’s gift, wasn’t it. Destroyed by your own arms.

“Sunny’s been sleepwalking. He’s,” Kel stops to press down on a bruise you’ve given him a few days ago, “He’s had trouble sleeping. I don’t know what was going on in his head, but he hates himself more than you ever did. Basil lied to you, Aubrey. He would never black out the photos.”

But it wasn’t you. It cannot be you. Sunny made you do it, didn’t he? You cannot accept that it was your fault. You don’t know how you’re going to live with this.

It’s all Sunny.

“Do you want me to forgive him? After all he’s done to my life? You know what is the best thing about this, Kel? It’s all Sunny! He pushed Mari down the stairs, he ruined the photos, he’s why-”

The object of your hatred enters the room, accompanied by the only adult in the vicinity. The camera’s glass crunches under his slippers.

He asks you what you were about to say. You can’t say it to his face.

“Nothing, sorry-”

“It sucked for everyone, Aubrey!”

You blank out the rest of the conversation, and once Sunny starts talking about what occured on the night of Mari’s death, you grab Kel’s shirt by the shoulder.

“Do you still want me to forgive him for killing Mari?” You whisper, or hiss, into Kel’s ear. “Why would I?”

He ignores you, but you don’t need his answer.

There are questions you could ask and answers you could receive, but one of them is a question only you could answer:

Would you forgive yourself if Basil drowned?

You need time and space, and you must have exhausted your welcome.

Kim and you pass by Basil, photographing a bunch of your common peers. The camera in his arms seems to be a new polaroid model, probably bought by Polly. He doesn’t notice you.

That’s good. You can’t face him after what you’ve said and done.

“He never did that.”

“What?”

“I bullied him for nothing. He’s only been protecting Sunny all these years.”

You almost killed Basil because he’s been protecting his best friend.

“That’s messed up.”

“I haven’t done anything of worth all these years.”

“You have us, Aubrey.” Kim is right. You have friends. Just because you have friends it doesn’t mean you deserve them.

And there it is again, the chime of self-hatred, festering as you keep blaming yourself for things you wish you didn’t do.

You’re not sure what you should have done; anything else would be fine. You wish someone told you what you should have done, but nobody has ever been there for you when you needed it.

The church is empty.

You’re sitting on the front pews. There’s no peace in this silence. Some things you can’t hide from, not in the confines of your attic, not in the company of your friends, not in this illusion of safety, because these memories are burrowed in your mind.

The preacher sits down on the stage, looking at you. You don’t know how long he’s been there.

“Leave me alone.”

He sighs and stands up, before leaving.

Thirty minutes later, he comes back.

“I tried to talk to your mother, and—”

Disappear.

“—your friends—”

Stop.

“—you need—”

Just leave me alone.

He stops talking.

“I hope you find your peace.”

You leave.

You miss having people to rely on.

You wish you could rely on your mother, but these days you aren’t sure if she’s still conscious. She hasn’t said a word to you in years.

You wish you could rely on your father, but the only presence he has in your life are monthly sustenance cheques. You don’t know what you’d do without these cheques, but there’s something you need more than money. You wish you could have guidance from an adult.

You wish you could rely on Hero, but after what was said and done, you can’t bring yourself to speak to him. He tried to talk to you, and you locked the door in his face.

You shouldn’t have done that. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so cut off if you didn’t.

You wish you could rely on Mari.

Your mom is bothering you again. She climbed the ladder, in her delirious state. You don’t want to remember that this woman is your mother. You don’t want to have anything in common with her, you wish you weren’t her and you wish you never isolated yourself like she does and you wish you never had her as a mother.

You swing your arm, and expect to hit her in the chest.

Your elbow catches someone else’s cheekbone instead.

Chapter Text

You hit the person behind you, and they fall to the floor, crying out in pain. This cannot be your mother, she’s too heavy. This must be a Hooligan. This cannot be a Hooligan. Please, let it be Charlene, Vance or the Maverick. Please don’t be Kim or Angel.

You don’t have anything against the former two, but they are the more resilient ones, and the Maverick being hurt by his own mess-ups is at least funny.

The person — crouching on the floor — is wearing a blue vest over a white dress shirt, and the fabric lines suggest an eyepatch.

The one person who you condemned has reached out to you, and you retaliated by hitting him in the eye that nearly got stabbed out.

You realize that this might be your last chance to turn back and stop pushing your friends away, and—

You fall to the floor, a shock of pain spreading through your cheek. The world is blurry from pain, and you curl, trying to feel something other than pain.

After ten seconds that feel like an hour, you feel Aubrey lift you up.

“I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry, Sunny.” From the tone of her voice, she must be crying. “I-I thought it’s my mom bugging you again, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You didn’t expect her not to double down.

You didn’t expect her to regret hurting you.

You expected retaliation, and yet you still came here. Why?

She lifts you into a waist hug, and you lower your arms to look at her face. It’s full of tears.

You should probably say something.

“Do you want to talk?” You’re not much of a talker, but you’ve always been a good listener.
You sit down on Aubrey’s bed — made up, as if she wasn’t planning on sleeping in it — and close your eye.

“I-I made mistakes.” Aubrey tries to collect herself as she speaks, leaning on your left shoulder. “I was looking for someone to blame for what I went through, and I blamed you. I isolated myself, when I could have reached out. I harmed Basil again and again and broke his camera.”

Mari’s gift.

“All I wanted is to find peace and to stop hurting, but I kept digging myself in.”

She looks at you, and gulps as you turn your head to look her in the eyes.

“Mari’s gone. I keep pushing everyone away. But you are here. I don’t want to lose you, too. I'm s-s-s—” she makes a pause, a pause that suggests to you that she’s correcting herself, “—sorry. Please forgive me.”

You hug her, and whisper that you’ve missed her. Aubrey nods, still sobbing, and you let her calm down as she’s resting on your shoulder. You wish you were just a bit taller, so that your shoulder would be a better resting place.

“I missed you so much.” Aubrey’s voice seems more composed, now that your vest is drenched in tears. “I—”

You hear someone climb up the stairs. “It’s Kim.”

“Kim? Kim!”

“Aubrey!”

You look at Kimberly, who’s surveying the attic. She looks at you, and smiles as Aubrey nods in acknowledgement.

“Ah, you’ve made up with your shut-in nerd, haven’t you?”

“I hope I did.”

You tell Kim that she should join you, and she sits down on Aubrey’s left. Finally, all is right in the world, or at least here and now.
“Did she break you into my house?”

“It was his idea,” Kim mutters, looking at the hay-chewing Bun-Bun, “He crawled through the window and let me in. And then he abandoned me alone with your mother.”

“Sorry.”

“Accepted.”

“How do you even live with your mother, Aubrey? She doesn’t work, where do you get the money?”

“Father sends me sustenance cheques.”

“So how much money—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You stand up and pick up a letter from Aubrey’s table. The envelope is signed with a shaky kid’s hand.

There’s your name, so it must be addressed to you.

“Put it down.” Aubrey sounds irritated, but you’re sure that if you were to look at her, she’d be more flustered than angry.

You yank the slip of paper out of the envelope, and read the letter. It’s a kid’s confession of a crush.

Aubrey did have a crush on you, but you don’t think that it mattered. You were eleven. Kids of that age have crushes all the time, right?

“Put that back!”

You look at Aubrey, and — as expected — notice a red flush on her cheeks, definitely not related to her just spending several minutes weeping. You take a quick glance at Kim, who decides to observe with a mildly interested look on her face.

You hand Aubrey the letter.

“It’s got my name on the envelope.”

You look at Kim, again. “Kim gave it to you, right? She stole it from my house and gave it to you, and you kept it around.”

“Why did you keep it around, Sunny?”

You’re not answering this one.

“Can you two lovebirds—”

“KIM!”

You might have a crush on Aubrey, but admitting that crush will be the last thing you’ll ever do. Unless Aubrey does it first, if she has a crush on you. You’re not sure that she does, but why would she keep this letter?

Kim unscrews the cap of her juice bottle, and starts drinking. You pass Aubrey the bottle with the watermelon juice, and she accepts it.

You look at your half-empty bottle of apple juice.

“Where did you buy it?”

“At a shop in the city. Kim took me all the way through the forest.”

“All for you, my dear Aubrey,” Kim cracks a joke, and the two of you smile, “your very own sun to light up your night.”

This would have been more funny if you remembered how to shine. You’re a dim light bulb at most.

A light bulb that can give off light and not darkness, at the very least. Nothing compared to Mari.

...Mari…

You miss Mari.

“Do you want to see Mari?”

Aubrey looks at you as if you’ve suggested setting her house on fire. She looks up, and her expression changes.

“Yes. Do you want to go with us, Kim?”

“I think I’ll pass. It’s already so late, and—”, she pauses to wipe the juice stains off her mouth, “—while Mari was cool, I didn’t know her. It’s not for me. You know. Sorry.”

You nod, and watch Kim slide down the ladder, followed by Aubrey.

“Sunny, please, grab my bat.”

You look around for a nail-covered baseball bat, but all you find is a baseball bat covered in nail holes. This must be it. Aubrey probably ripped the nails out.

You pick the weapon up, slip the broken polaroid camera into your backpack, pet the bunny once more and carefully climb down the ladder.

Chapter Text

It’s still dark outside, of course.

Aubrey locks the door as you leave her house. You watch Kim take a turn to the left as she walks away.

“I started locking the door once my mother,” she says as she takes the denailed bat from your hands, “started trying to wander outside. She’s bad. Really bad. I don’t think she recognizes me anymore.”

You don’t know what to say. Fortunately, the church is right there, open for passage.

Your eyes stop momentarily on the piano, sliding past the word etched into its exterior. You will never completely leave that weight behind.

You push the door open, and take in the cemetery’s air.

Everything is horrible and hollow.

The curtains are shuttered, and you still wish you couldn’t see what little light reaches into the room.

There’s a commotion outside. Someone is crying.

You don’t want to hear that. You don’t want to hear anything.
Something is hurting, but you don’t know what. What did you do? What did you do, to wish that you couldn’t perceive the world?

What did you do? Why do you feel like this?

What has happened?

You don’t know. You cannot allow yourself to remember.

Four years in the future, you will remember that there was a wake outside. You are not present for it.

You do not hear four children you called friends saying their last goodbyes to your sister.

The sun shined brighter when she was here.

You lean down and wipe the dust off the gravestone. The cemetery keeper probably doesn’t bother with dust; he has other things to take care of. Like wilting flowers.

You had a picnic here, the day before you confessed. It was probably the first time Hero visited Mari’s grave, now that you think of it. Kel said so, but Hero might have visited it before.

You think about Hero’s responses to you. Did he sincerely forgive you, or was he only pretending because he’s been so used to suppressing his own emotions for Kel’s sake?

You need to call, or text, him once it’s not night anymore. He’s probably asleep and won’t enjoy being disturbed.

Not to mention it’s the wrong atmosphere for that.

“Your mother never bothered to bring flowers to the grave.” Aubrey sits down next to you, burying her face in her palms. “It was just me. I tried to do my best.”

You look at the fresh bouquet, brought by Aubrey a few days ago, and try to recall what these flowers mean.

Chrysanthemums and forget-me-nots. You don’t think you can remember what chrysanthemums mean. Basil probably knows. Mari definitely knew. And forget-me-nots—

You hope you’ll never forget Mari’s kindness.

You lie down on the ground, and stare into the dark sky, trying to avoid slipping into daydreaming once again. Why did it have to be this way? Why did you wilt, like an abandoned flower with no water? Mari would probably wish that you had a fulfilling life instead of staying inside for four years, outside of the sun, but you’d never heed that wish.

Photosynthesis was meant for plants, after all. All the warmth and love of your friends, you let it be forgotten for four years. You have a lot to catch up with.

You’ll have to promise yourself that you will not relapse.

“Thank you.”

“I miss Mari.” Aubrey isn’t crying; you think she’s being more somber. “I think I let her down, in the end.”

You cannot agree. Compared to what you’ve done, Aubrey—

—right, Basil.

You will need to talk to Basil.

“You’ll make it up to Basil.”

“I can’t. I broke his camera. Mari’s camera. You’ve seen it, right?” You forgot it was Mari’s camera. You still need to take a step forward. You’ve helped Aubrey and Kel to make up, and you hope that, if Aubrey was sincere in her apologies that day, Basil will understand her.

They’ve been friends before you met him.

You just need to be there and ask him to hear her out.

You two are still friends, probably, Polly be damned. You don’t have anything against her, though. She only wants the best for Basil, like a mother would.

Come to think of it, she's the best mother that any of you six could ask for.

You take Aubrey’s hand into your own, and stand up. You need to be somewhere else. Somewhere less somber and closer to the better times you went through.

You ask Aubrey if she knows what happened to the treehouse.

“I don’t think the new owner did anything to it, why do you ask? Do you want to visit it?”

You nod.

The treehouse is just as abandoned as it was. The new owner definitely doesn’t care about this place.

You pick up Mari’s softball bat, still lying there, and tap it against the wall. It’s just the right weight to swing.

“What now?”

You look out of the window.

“Let’s just stay here for a while.”

“Sure. Nobody’s going to miss me here, anyway.” Aubrey picks up Mr. Plantegg, drops the toy down onto the carpet as an improvised pillow, lays down and closes her eyes. She’s probably going to fall asleep.

You should probably follow suit, but you’re not really sleepy. Thankfully, you have the sleeping pills.

You take one and lay down next to Aubrey. You could probably make use of your own pillow; a backpack would probably suffice.

You close your eyes—
—and open them again.

Chapter Text

The blanket is a bit itchy, but that is to be expected.

The lights are out; the curtains are shuttered. You are back in your sanctuary. Mari’s softball bat — the one you found while awake — is leaning against the drawers.

Is this some sort of a prompt?

You slide out of your bed and turn on the lights.

As expected, the walls have been vandalized. The portraits are scrawled out, with your face being an unrecognizable mess of black ink; the images of your friends are merely covered in scrawls.

You open the bottle of rubbing alcohol and — with heavy heart — start the restoration process.

You throw the rag into the trash bin.

The walls, once again, look the way you want them to. Your intrusive thoughts no longer grace them.

Your portrait needs to be redrawn from scratch, since it uses the exact same marker and the scrawls cover it the most, but your friends need only the slightest touch-ups.

You pick up the bat, and finally try to open the door. It’s locked.

As you remember, there’s no opening it from the other side, and the windows aren’t going to take you to Headspace proper; the door is less of a door and more of a portal. Maybe you need to use the bat.

You slam the bat into the door, and it groans with cracks.

You slam it again, and again, and again, in a slow, rhythmic staccato as the cracks grow deeper and deeper. Once they reach the edges, you wind up for the last time and take a swing.

The door breaks and unlocks itself with a click.

You probably shouldn’t have done all that, but there’s no other way out of the room and you need to get out of it.

The Neighbours’ Room is empty, barring the looming silhouette of the yellow cat.

“Welcome back, Omori!”

You notice the toaster and approach it. There’s toast inside. You’re hungry.

“You are sleepy, Omori, aren’t you? Do you want to rest?” The cat beckons to your left.

Come think of it, you have never noticed how there’s a door on the left side of the room.

“Lay down and rest, Omori. You’re safe here.”

You ignore the animated playground structure, and ascend the stairs to where you are probably meant to be, chewing down on the dream toast.

“Sunny!”

You look at Aubrey, and — that’s pink hair, isn’t it?

“Sunny, where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you!”

The girl drags you along to the imaginary playground by your hand. You look at her arm, and notice the knife scar.

Of course you’d remember that, of all things.

There’s nobody there but Basil and—

“Hello, Mari.”

“Sunny, you’re here!” She stands up, taller than you remember, and you don’t notice that her appearance almost perfectly matches your sketch.

Something is wrong. She shouldn’t be here, should she?

“I was worried that you’d stay in your room, but you’ve come out and joined us. I’m so glad that you’re here.”

You don’t feel like having a picnic, and your group is two people short of six.

“Where are Kel and Hero?” The question feels more natural than it should be.

“The Orange Oasis. Hero said that he has something important there to take care of, and Kel tagged along.”

This feels wrong. This is all a comforting lie you’ve invented to steer yourself away from the truth, to push the burden and the guilt away, to...
You look at Aubrey again, who cocks her head and looks at you, smiling. “Sunny, would you like to show me around?”

Wait, shouldn’t she already know her way around? This is a dream Aubrey you’ve made up, not the real Aubrey even if she looks exactly like her.

You look at the pink-haired girl, and hesitate a little before offering her your hand.

“Sure.”

You brace yourself for the inevitable trip, recycling your ventures into the park and all the sprout moles and all the bunnies trying to chew on your limbs and Mari stands up—

“Basil, would you watch the picnic basket for us, please?”

Somewhere, Captain Spaceboy’s mixtape jams his Walkman. You aren’t there to see it.

“I think I should accompany you on your trip through the forest, Sunny! Someone has to keep an eye on you, just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself!” She winks.

You wish your sister wasn’t so doting, but deep inside you appreciate her concern.

You leave the barren playground and wave goodbye to Basil, as Mari follows the two of you behind.

You’re drowning in the bunny tide, and neither your sister nor your crush are helping.

You don’t have enough arms to safely remove all these bunnies from yourself. You could just throw them away, but Aubrey would probably not like that.

Instead, you reach out and pet a bunny. It responds by purring, and its brethren join it in its chorus. There’s a purring load of fur surrounding you from all directions and a pair of girls encouraging the bunnies to envelop you even further.

A mass of pink hair leans over you, and you beg for her help as she laughs. You try to wiggle out of the bunny pile, and feel the weight double down. The bunnies have chosen you as their new favourite object.

You are so, so glad Basil isn’t here to take a photo; he would, however, help you out of your current predicament.

A bunny on your chest perks up, and hops away; the purring stops. Somewhere far away, a high-pitched whine grows louder by the moment, approaching your group.

A lost sprout mole is running towards you at full speed, with an utter lack of peaceful intent.

“Batter up!”

You notice Mari — standing a few steps to your right — pitch a softball to Aubrey, who slams it with her bat right over you, sending the hard yellow sphere of destruction right into the sprout mole’s face.

The impact leaves behind a pile of soft edible cardboard.

As the last bunny hops away, you stand up and complain about being used as an improvised plate.

Mari chuckles. “Sorry! I felt like it was a good moment. See, you shouldn’t worry about me, I can defend myself just fine!” She tosses up the softball in her hand, as if looking for another target.

You look at Aubrey, and she pats your shoulder as you bump into hers.

Mari plucks a tiny pinwheel from your ground, and sticks it behind your ear.

You drag your feet and collapse into the grass, stretching your arms out and looking upwards, where the Otherworld must be.

Otherworld…

One day, you asked your mother what your father did, and she asked you to wait for nightfall.

Once the sun went down and the sky was dotted with distant tiny sparkles called stars, she brought you outside.

“Your father,” she pointed at a bright red star, “is studying Mars.”
Of course, when you told your father that you know what happens there — with a carefully written text, for a child of your age — he told you to stop wasting his time.

You now know that you weren’t right, but it still feels cold that he’s never bothered to listen to you.

Chapter Text

Basil is screaming.

You, too, would be screaming if it was your first time travelling by a rogue planet. You even asked Pluto if you could attach a cabin for Basil to sit in, and he allowed that. You’d think that a rogue planet wouldn’t allow you to attach a cabin to itself.

Nevertheless, Basil is screaming.

You close your eye and wait for it to cease.

Once you’re on the ground, Basil stumbles out of the carriage, holding onto the basket as if it was his only lifeline and he was floating through empty space.

You leap down — the lower gravity is an unexpected and pleasant change — and land next to the designated picnic basket holder. Mari and Aubrey let go of Pluto, as he grins and soars off into the air.

You’re back on the Otherworld.

“I think I need to lie down.” Basil climbs down the ladder and staggers off to the checkered blanket, before falling flat on it. You’re really happy he hasn’t eaten anything.

That space food probably looks appealing, to think of it, and you’re hungry. You’re so hungry you could swallow a whale whole.

You leap down the cliff, try to catch Aubrey who does the same, fall on the ground, laugh it off, stand up and hurry towards the blanket.

“Don’t eat too much!”

You tell Mari that you won’t, and squeeze down onto the tube.

Aubrey kicks in the door, and you slowly walk into Captain Spaceboy’s house.

There are your moving boxes, scattered on the floor, labeled in your mother’s hand and blocking the way. You shove them to the sides, kick them away and push them with your bat; Aubrey, too follows suit.

What a weird dream.

One of the boxes tears itself in half, and you are showered in correspondence, addressed to you. Praise and condemnation, confessions and rejections. You pluck out a random letter, and recognize the writing.

It all comes back to Aubrey’s kid crush confession, doesn’t it? You let her down—

No, that’s not what happened.

It was just a lie you told yourself. The letter was real.

You look at Aubrey, peeking over your shoulder.

“Hey, give me that.”

You wish the drama over that letter was over, or at least you didn’t have to bother with it.

You ascend the stairs, as your chaperone grabs you by the shoulder.

“Sunny, he’s not at home.”

“The door was open, though.” Aubrey must have finally shoved the letter somewhere beyond the reach of your thoughts. Probably a pocket. “Someone’s here, and—”

Something explodes.

You ready your bat and run up the stairs and oh it’s just a husk of a robot amongst the ruined splinters of a king-sized bed.

Aubrey approaches the husk and slightly taps it, making its eyes light up in eerie red.

“SSBqdXN0IHdhbnQgdG8gYmUgbG92ZWQhIFBsZWFzZSwgZG9uJ3QgaHVydCBtZSEgSSBkb24ndCB3YW50IHRvIGh1cnQgYW55b25lIQ==”

She’s probably broken, or maybe her encoding is off.

Roboheart stretches an arm out, and you lower your weapon. She probably won’t attack you, if you sheathe your bats and refuse to beat her up for speaking gibberish.
“Let me see.” Aubrey drops her bat, and approaches the robot. “There’s something off. I think she’s missing a step, somewhere.”

You follow suit, and carefully open the now-placid robot’s chassis. Inside, a switch, helpfully labeled “Decode base64”, is forced into “off” position by a rogue wire.

You pull the wire away and flip the switch on.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you so much!”

You carefully close the chassis and look at the robot, who showers you in praise and declarations of love as she takes off through the roof. Spaceboy will have to fund that out of his own pocket.

You wish being understood was so simple.

You run through the cattail field, chased by a shark plane. Mari and Aubrey run alongside you. Whatever is going to happen next, you don’t want to risk fighting it.

You trip and roll forward through cattails, landing on your chest as the shark just catches up.

Looks like you don’t have a choice in the matter. You focus, and swing your bat right in time to catch it in the cheek.

It reels from shock and a fastball thrown by Mari, knocking it off its course.

You stand up, and tap the ground with your bat, challenging the creature.

“What are you waiting for, Sunny? Get it!”

Aubrey’s right behind you, cheering on you. Her support is exactly what you need right now.

You smile, and take a swing, as Aubrey brings her bat down once, twice, thrice and punches the shark for good measure, all while grinning like you.

The shark deflates with a funny noise and shoots up, disappearing in the sky.

“High-five?”

You accept the gesture. To think of it, Kel is the person you usually high-five with, not that you high-five much.

You look forward, and notice the barn. Of course it’s there. You don’t feel like you should enter or approach the barn.

“Let’s go.”

You follow Mari as she leads you out, back into the roads between cattails—

—wait, where did they go? You stopped for a second, just to get a tiny stone out of your boot.

The forbidden barn beckons. Maybe you’re supposed to open the door, just like you did that time.

To hell with it.

You approach the barn and open the door.

There’s a music stand inside, with no instrument to play, and a scattering of notes on the sheet with saltire crosses instead of circles. You don’t remember what instrument this is meant to be; definitely not a violin.

The rhythm suggests percussion. You don’t know how to play percussion. Maybe someone else knows, although that doesn’t explain why a percussion score is there in your memory.

You drop the score down, and it fades into darkness as it touches the floor.

“Sunny!”

Aubrey’s battering on the barn’s door. You need to respond, but you can’t. There’s no air in your lungs.

You’re suffocating in the void of space as all the dim light in the room fades away.

The light floods back as you lose consciousness.

Chapter Text

You’re asleep, but it feels real. Not in the same way some of your it-might-have-happened-in-another-world heist dreams do.

As real as being awake. The boy you’ve asked to show you around feels as real as the one in whose treehouse you fell asleep in. The bat in your hands feels just as real as the bat you wield every day.

And Mari, Mari feels just as real as you remember her, even if you faintly recall how she died four years ago. Maybe she didn’t actually die?

You slam your bat into the barn’s door, and it finally caves in, letting you see the place in all its hollowed-out glory.

There’s nothing inside but hay and an ornate mirror. You expected to find a short cute boy, standing on the ground or — judging from the sound — lying on the floor, but there’s only his sister, uncannily cheery as she surveys the empty room, her hands on your shoulders.

You are not sure if you should find her brother cute.

“Where is he? Where did he go, Mari? Why are you smiling, your brother is missing—”

“Look into my eyes, Aubrey!”

You comply, and look into Mari’s eyes. She starts approaching you, and you involuntarily walk backwards into the barn,

“Now listen carefully! What do you think you’re doing now?”

“I’m asleep.”

“And what was Sunny doing, Aubrey? Also asleep? Now, let me ask you a question: Why did you ask him to show you around?”

You are not intruding into Sunny’s dreams, are you?

“Now, Aubrey, if Sunny isn’t here, where could he be?”

“He could be anywhere here, right? In the forest, in the campsite, somewhere else, right? Wait, do you mean—”

“Wake up!”

You are unceremoniously pushed into the mirror, and crash awake.

The sun is shining into your eyes. You sit up and text your mom.

“good morning”

She calls, and you decline. You don’t want to wake Aubrey up.

“Sunny, please, accept the call.”

“no”

“Why? Sunny, your mom needs to talk to you.”

“cant talk, busy”

“Oh, very well. Thank you for at least texting me, dear.”

You put your phone awake and watch your crush stir awake. To think about it, the treehouse is an awful sleeping place.

You’d give her the world if you had it.

“Sunny, where did you go—”

“The barn.” You respond before you realize that Aubrey isn’t a lucid dreamer, if you think that’s what that means, and definitely shouldn’t have found yourself in your dream.

“Wait, Sunny, I need you to slow down. Did you drag me into your dream about space?”

You do not want to have this conversation, so you decide to nod, hoping that this would be sufficient.

You are instantly proven wrong.

“And then we fixed Roboheart, who is—”

“Roboheart is Sweetheart’s robot clone.” You point towards a toy on the counter. “She was made by—”, you try to remember the underwater scientist’s name, “—Molly? I think it was Molly. Sweetheart wanted to marry herself, and Molly made a clone for her, but it was rejected.”

“Sunny, why are you dreaming about a toy marrying herself?”

You don’t know. Maybe you need to talk to Sweetheart, the next time you fall asleep.

“Also, Sunny, what was—”

“I don’t know.”

You don’t understand what it was with Mari. She looked nineteen. She never lived past your age.

Aubrey climbs down the ladder, and you follow her. Now, to leave the backyard, which you no longer own, you need to either climb over the fence, get through the now-inhabited house or take the route through the back hedge.

Aubrey elects to take the last route, and you follow suit. As you crawl through the plants, she turns to you and asks you a question you couldn't help but expect:

"Sunny, is this what you've been doing for four years? Taking a copy of me on imaginary dates?"

The idea crossed your mind once, or maybe twice, but you didn't actually do that.

"Kel and Hero were there, too. And Basil wasn't. We were looking for Basil, and Mari was," you try to pick an appropriate word, "confined to the blanket. I didn't want her to die again."

"Yet you're fine with us dying, a—" She snaps her mouth shut. "Sorry."

You push yourself through the hedge, and say it's okay.

"But why?"

You tell her you've only been looking for an escape, like she did.

“Escape. I wish I could escape like that,” she says as she helps you to your feet, “not having to deal with the world would probably be more pleasant than living with my mother.”

You don’t know what to say.

It feels sincere. She’s been in pain, missing Mari just like you.

You've been spinning in circles for four years. Maybe, if you support each other, you'll find what you need together.

All of you. There's no way where you belong on your lonesome.

You take her hand and shake it, and promise that you will find your peace and happiness together.

Chapter Text

It’s already afternoon.

There’s only two of you, on your route to the hideout, when you’re jumped by what looks like a small child.

“Get him!”

Oh, it’s...what was her name, Joy?

You barely hold your ground as the kid and two of her friends (Jesse, you think, and Brent) carefully collect her and ask you how you’ve been and if you need protection from—

You give Brent your best disappointed face and ask him if he’s seen Basil.

“He’s at Hobbeez, I think? Why are you asking?”

You thank the boy and nod your head, asking Aubrey to follow you.

“I don’t feel like talking to him after all that.” Aubrey starts talking once you’re outside of the trio’s immediate range. “It’s just…”

“Aubrey!”

It’s Angel. And Maverick. Of course.

“Look, it’s him!”

You have been spotted.

“Aubrey, did you really go all the way to the city on your own to dislodge the shut-in from his—”

“It was Kim, Angel! I saw her leave yesterday. She must have been so busy, to think of it, looking for the key to Aubrey’s heart—”

You carefully grab Aubrey by the waist and pull, in a request to hold the retaliation off, but it barely works, since you’re too weak to prevent anything with brute force.

She grabs the juvenile pastry chef by his shoulders and starts shaking him like a spray paint can. When you and Angel pry Aubrey off, she’s breathing heavily, sporting a furious grin.

“Why don’t you just—”

The Maverick is laughing. He just got shaken like a paint can and he’s laughing.

You think you should give something to Angel, to think of that. Like that rare card.

“Where did you get it?”

“Your sister.” You really don’t want to talk to Angel, to think of it. You’re here for your friends, like Basil, not the people who just happen to be Aubrey’s new circle of friends.

To think of it, she seems to be colder with them than she looked in June.

“I thought she destroyed it! How did you—” Something dawns over Angel. He must have realized he’s been tricked.

He runs off, leaving his mentor on the ground. You should probably offer something to Mikhael, given his current state.

“Hey, do you want some juice?”

The Maverick unscrews the cap and starts drinking, as you help him to his feet, and wait, did Aubrey already leave?

“You should probably go after her, Sunny. You’re looking for Basil, right? He’s missed you.”

You tell him that you know, and leave.

You push open the door, and Aubrey enters the store before you.

You missed this place. Kel should have probably been here with you.

You need to text Kel.

“we are at hobbeez”

“What, already? How’s Basil?”

“didnt talk to him yet”

“Who’s we? Wait!”

You are receiving a call.

“Sunny, who did you find there?”

You decide to hand over the phone to Aubrey, and leave the store. Right as you close the door, Aubrey opens it.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Aubrey, what the hell! Give Sunny’s phone back to him!”

“He gave it to me myself, you dense fool! What do you want from me, apologize to Sunny? I already did that!”

“I want you to stop—”

You carefully snatch your phone back and tell Kel that you miss him a lot, before turning the phone off.

“He’s heard that, Sunny.”

You ask her who heard that, and she points at her left. You open the door, and notice Basil, sitting at the shop’s long table, poring over a thick book.

You approach the boy, and retrieve the polaroid camera from your backpack. He’s probably missed that, hasn’t he?

You drop the camera onto the book.

“I don’t want to do anything with you anymore, Au—” Basil catches his breath as he turns his head and looks at you.

“Sunny?”

You take a step back and brace for impact, because—

”Sunny!”

Well, at least you tried.

“Sunny, I’ve missed you so much! How did you get here? Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Why did you never call?”

You stand up and try to explain that you tried to contact you, but Polly told you he’s not on the phone and, perhaps, she just gave you her number instead of yours.

You add that your bike is parked next to Aubrey’s house, which Basil totally ignores.

“Ahem.”

He isn’t listening. You can’t blame him.

“Basil, I think I should apologize for all I’ve done. I’ve already done that before you got sent to the hospital, but I don’t think that mattered since I never did good on my promise to actually do better, you know? We’ve been friends for a long time, and—” Aubrey takes a deep breath, and you put your hand on her shoulder to show encouragement. “—I never should have done all this. I’m sorry.”

Basil closes his eyes, probably thinking of something. Finally, he opens them.

“I’ll think of it.”

Aubrey nods and smiles, and you pull her into your collective hug.

You look at the old man in the book, dressed in plant-decorated garments and holding a crooked wooden staff. This man should probably know a lot about nature.

You ask Basil about the man.

“Oh, it’s a druid! The real-life druids were Celtic priests, and this game features them as nature wizards.”

You don’t really feel like looking into this game, and that arcade machine feels infinitely more alluring right now.

Hello there, Captain Spaceboy’s Space Adventure. You sink a dollar coin into the machine, and it comes to life.

Chapter Text

Your score is a five-digit monstrosity once your third life is lost and you wrap the game up.

You could probably make a cool quip, but you’re not a person who makes such cool quips, so you look at Shopkeep instead.

“Aw, Sunny. I only set my new high score, and you erase it like that.”

You stare the man down, silently demanding a reward.

“Fine. Here’s your prize. One-of-a-kind. I don’t have other things like this one.”

It’s a thin black headband with a pair of furry black feline ears on its top. Just what you needed. Now you can become your very own cat.

You put the headband on, and return to the table. You sit down next to Aubrey, right opposite to Basil, and tap Basil’s shoulder.

“Oh, you’re back from the arcade? Sunny, did you win this band? It suits you very well.”

It’s nice to know that Basil approves of your latent desire to become a cat.

You look at Aubrey and ask her opinion.

“It fits you. If you came out of your house wearing this band I wouldn’t even question it.”

Someone kicks in the door. It’s Kim.

“Aubrey, why didn’t you tell me you’re—” She stares at Basil, who looks at her with utter disinterest for a moment or two before returning to the book. “—here?”

“Kim, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine! You didn’t leave your house for a week, that is definitely not fine! Why are you so chummy all of a sudden?”

You ask Kim to calm down, pointing out that she’s trying to fix things between her and Basil.

“Ah, I see. Aubrey, can you please help me?”

Basil lifts his head and looks at Kim.

“Did you get banned from the sweet shop again?”

“I—”

“You got banned from the sweet shop again and need a proxy.”

You don’t know what happened to Basil, but it’s nice to see that he’s finally trying to stand his ground and sass people.

“Basil, please, can you—”

Snap.

Kim flinches, momentarily blinded by the polaroid camera’s flash, and accepts the impromptu photo.

“Sure.” Aubrey puts a comic away and stands up. “Let’s go, Sunny.”

You ask Basil if he’s coming, and he nods. Time to get candy, and some other snacks.

You clink your bottle against Basil’s and watch the clouds drift across the blue sky. You close your eye, and a shadow covers you.

“Charlie, what are you doing here?” You’ve considered asking this question first, but Basil must have done that before you.

She replies that she’s enjoying the company of her friends.

You open your eye and notice that the entire Hooligan party has assembled around you in the meantime.

You lift your arm and ask Vance to pass the pizza, which he does.

“Hey, Basil. There’s someone looking for you.”
Basil sits up and eyes the older teenager.

“What do you need from me, Vance?”

“There’s an adult searching for you. Tall man in his forties with thin round glasses. Do you two know who that could be?”

You tell Vance that you don’t know any tall men in their forties with thin round glasses who could be looking for Basil.

“Wait, what’s that headband?”

You tell him that it’s a cat ear headband.

“Uh, do you want to look like a cat?”

“He’s very much a cat. He even climbed into a box for his birthday gift!”

Wait, you actually did do that, right. Kel put in a food bowl for you and Mewo.

“Does Sunny like climbing trees?”

You respond that you don’t really like climbing trees, but there are reasons to do that, like feeding cats. Just like that orange cat on the tree, likely demanding even more fish.

You say you’re going to be back as soon as possible, as you leave and run to the Othermart.

On your way there, right as you pass the fountain, you bump into the mysterious tall man carrying a bouquet of flowers.

He stops and eyes you for a moment.

“Sorry,” you exhale as you stand up and run away, “I’ve got to go.”

You don’t recognize this man, but, judging by the bouquet of flowers, he’s got something important to do, or someone important to talk to.

You run through the Othermart, and notice the fishmonger talking to the guitar player, who must be her son.

You ask her to give you fish, and she says something that you don’t wholly understand.

“...Sorry?”

“Oh, she’s asking if you’re going to eat it raw or at least cook it first.” Wait, you’re still wearing the cat headband.

You tell her that you want to feed the orange cat you’ve seen around a few times, and hand over the note in exchange for the fish.

The road back is clear. The cat is still there.

You climb up the tree, helped by the Hooligans, until you reach the orange cat’s branch. It looks at you and meows. You meow back.

You have achieved communion with the feline. Time to break your fast, and bite into the raw fish ah wait you probably shouldn’t do that.

You offer the fish to the cat, and it goes ham over it, curling into a ball of fur in your lap once you’re done.

You lean back at the tree branch, and close your eyes.

Someone else climbs up the tree, and sits down next to you. You open your eye and find out that it’s Kim.

“She seems happier, now.” Kim points at Aubrey. “I don’t know what you did, but I hope she won’t relapse.”

You don’t respond, only nodding.

“She told me about you pulling her into your dreams.” You wish you could deny that happening, but Kim definitely trusts Aubrey more than she trusts you. “You know you can’t replace Mari, right?”

This is a personal attack on who you are, but you let it slide.

“I am not trying to replace Mari. I want to be there for her, just like we should have been.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Kim yells at Angel, who is currently being too eager to teach Basil how to swim, or at least how to not drown. “I trust we both care about her enough to want her to be happy, right, nerdy cat boy?”

You seriously need to do something about the cat ears, but you like them too much to just stop wearing them.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Aubrey, did Sunny tell you he’s picked up the violin again?”

“You did?”

You nod at Kim’s assertion. You don’t really feel like talking about your training, and you don’t want to play.

You want to enjoy the weather and pet the cat in your lap, but the cat has other plans, which it demonstrates to you by leaping from your lap.

Kim sighs and starts climbing down the tree, and you decide to open your eyes. Everyone else has left, leaving behind only you, Basil, Aubrey and Kim.

“Hey, would you mind if I took over the cat?”

You tell her that you don’t mind, and the cat probably can make its own choices on the matter, and decide to close your eyes again.

Snap!

You have just been photographed by Basil.

“Let me see.”

Basil shows you the photo. Come to think of it, this must be the first photo of you he took in forever.

“Thank you.”

“Sure, Aubrey!” He’s cheery. Almost too cheery, as if he’s trying to show that he’s not irritated by your presence in the slightest.

“Have you taken a photo of our beloved cat in his unnatural habitat?”

“You mean — oh!”

Basil snaps a photo of Sunny, and shows it to you. The boy is sitting on a tree branch, leaning back against another branch. He’s very much a cat.

Kim waves to you and chases off after the orange cat, which has just decided to go somewhere else.

You climb the tree and sit down next to Sunny, as Basil takes a few steps back, sits down on the pier and takes a photo of the scenery.

You close your eyes and enjoy the weather. A few minutes later, you feel a rough push and a slight prick. As you remember, cats are known to headbutt to show affection.

You tell Sunny to show affection in a more conventional manner that won’t end with the two of you falling down, and let your consciousness fade away again, until you’re awoken and now your left cheek is slightly wet and you’re flushed and you cannot believe he actually went through with that.

At least he isn’t purring, and Basil probably didn’t photograph you.

He does take a photo of the aftermath, with the colour of your face rapidly approaching the colour of your hair, but a small consolation is acceptable when it comes to this.

You really don’t want to talk about this.

Now would be a really appropriate moment for something to ruin the mood, and this is why there’s a mysterious weird man tearing through the stop signs.

You poke Sunny, and the two of you climb down the tree, as the stranger confronts Basil.

They are screaming something at each other, and you can’t process what. You pick up your bat, and Sunny—

—and Sunny’s already next to Basil, accusing the man of something.

You hear Mari’s name, and dart from your place as you understand what’s going on and who this person is.

Several things happen next, one right after another.

The man goes for a swing, aimed at Basil.

Sunny pushes Basil out of the way, as the fist catches him in the chest. He falls into the water right before Basil, who manages to gather himself. Five-minute training, somehow, paid off.
You reach the pier and wind up for a swing. At this point, you don’t care about the consequences. You need to get Sunny out of the water, and this person will get in the way.

You catch him in the temple, and something cracks.

Your body seizes up as you fall into water. There’s no air in your lungs. You need to hold your breath. You need to hold your breath. You need to breathe.

Basil falls into water right next to you, but he’s alright. You think you notice him kicking his way to the ground, and climbing out right moments after another splash and another dark shadow above you.

Red streaks through the water.

You need to breathe, but there’s nothing to breathe, so you keep your body from inhaling water.

Moments pass. You still cannot move. Your vision starts to blur.

Another shadow darts towards you, and you black out.

You need to move. You cannot move.

The adult collapses into water, blood gushing from his temple.

You’ve just killed a person.

Basil screams at you and shakes you, trying to get your attention, but you cannot understand what’s going on.

He’s screaming something about Sunny, and tries to leap into the water as you hold him back. Basil can barely swim and is—

He’s drowning.

You throw the bloodied bat away and leap into the water. You need to hurry up. Please, for God’s sake, don’t die.

You grab him — both of his eyes closed — and drag him to the surface. Keep head above the water. Keep head above the water.

You scream at Basil, and he grabs Sunny by the vest, helping you to pull him out.

Kim is here. You don’t know when she got here.

“Get Polly,” you exhale, and she’s off.

You lay the body down onto the blanket, and check it for pulse. It’s faint. You don’t know if he’s breathing, and don’t know how to check that. You need someone who actually knows what to do here, like Hero, or—

—this is how sunny felt, right—

“You need to check for water, see if any got in the lungs.”

You carefully open his mouth. There’s some water inside. You turn Sunny’s body on its side, and let the water flow out.

You shouldn’t do CPR. You don’t know how to, and you’ll probably break something in the process.

You need to do something you need to know what to do you don’t know what to do.

There’s nothing but water around you, and a drowning sensation that won’t let go. Somehow, you can breathe just fine. Just like in Last Resort.
You’re not awake, are you? You’re dying. Whatever will to live was remaining in your body slowly leaks away, the same way oxygen left your body.

Aubrey didn’t save you, did she? You don’t deserve to be saved.

You stare into a distorted mirror, accepting yourself for who you are and who you will always be. The mirror collapses, leaving behind only you and the bleak prison of your own creation. The knife bounces off the floor, red with your blood. You will carry the scars in your heart.

“You can’t give up now.”

“You’re right, Mari, but…” You’re afraid that you don’t have a choice.

“Don’t worry, brother!”

You love your sister. You miss her so much.

The real pain clutches your false chest. This is just a vision. Your body is dying, but this pain?

This is just a fear of death.

And fear is something you can overcome.

You jerk awake, your body burned out and exhausted. You cannot move. All you can do is cough out water as someone sticks a heat pack into your arm, and clutch down on it.

You’re alive.

Chapter Text

“Sunny, where are you going? STOP!”

Your brother leaves the room, presumably to talk to Sunny and bring him back. You should follow him, but the shoulder pat was clearly meant to be a request to give them space.

All that remains is the fury in pink, whom you still want to consider your friend.

“Aubrey, what the—”

“D-don’t ask.”

She staggers towards Basil’s camera, picks it up with trembling fingers and slips it into her jacket.

“Give it back.” You approach her, palm open. “It’s Basil’s camera. Do you—”

“I’m n-not giving it back, Kel.” She’s trembling.

You stare her down in anger.

“She’s all I had.”

“I was there, Aubrey! You could have talked to me, or—”

“You abandoned her, just like Basil and Hero did. I shouldn’t have come with you. Basil ruined the photos—”

You didn’t abandon her. You lived on, as she’d want you to, and Hero—

Until Hero confronted you about your constant attempt to pull him out of the spiral, you lived in fear that he’d never surface.

“He didn’t. It was Sunny.”

“What?”

“Sunny’s been sleepwalking. He’s,” Your arm aches, and you press down on the bruise. “He’s had trouble sleeping. I don’t know what was going on in his head, but he hates himself more than you ever did. Basil lied to you, Aubrey. He would never black out the photos.”

These photos are everything to him, just like they’re everything to Aubrey.

“Do you want me to forgive him? After all he’s done to my life? You know what is the best thing about this, Kel? It’s all Sunny! He pushed Mari down the stairs, he ruined the photos, he’s why-”

Sunny enters the room, accompanied by Hero. Glass crunches under his slippers.

He asks Aubrey what she was about to say.

“Nothing, sorry—”

“It sucked for everyone, Aubrey! Hero turned into a depressed wreck who barely left his room, you lost the only responsible person you could look up to, and Basil spent four years living with you harassing him and Sunny being-” You turn to Sunny. “Hey, Sunny, did you even leave your house?”

“He didn’t. I haven’t seen him outside even once.”

“Well, maybe he did sneak out at some point-”

He shakes his head.

“See, he didn’t even leave his own house! Mari was his sister, can you imagine how much that impacted him?”

Aubrey opens her mouth and closes it again. Whatever she wanted to say, for better or better, is left unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

Sunny starts to cry, and your brother pushes a bottle of water into his hands.

You’re sitting at Sunny’s bed the next day, right after his mother has left.

You remember knocking onto the door and him responding, against your expectations, and the entire day of remembering what it’s like to be friends.

You remember the next day, when he threw himself into the water and almost drowned, trying to save Basil.

You remember reaching out to Aubrey and, if only briefly, mending the bridges.

You should have been there for Sunny for the start, but even then, this was your only chance to reconnect with him.

That one chance was more than enough.

“Hey, Sunny, I forgot to ask you…” You close your eyes, trying to find a way to phrase what you want to say correctly. “…you knew why Basil was in the bathroom, right?”

Sunny nods.

“He was stressed out about his grandma dying and you leaving, right? Why did he have the shears? He wasn’t trying to kill himself, was he?”

Sunny saved Basil’s life. If it wasn’t for you, Basil would have been dead, too. Minutes pass in silence.

“You saved my life, Kel.”

“What?”

But Sunny doesn’t respond, staring at the wall, and you think about how your interventions keep making people change their lives for the better. Maybe you aren’t a nuisance.

You don’t talk to Aubrey. There’s nothing to talk about.

You briefly recall how she tried to confront you, and you stayed silent because the only thing you could reply with was an accusation.

Basil’s near-death experience — the one you knew about — is something you feel you shouldn’t bring up. This isn’t an argument that’s worth it.

Would she forgive herself? Would you, since you only tried to hold her off, even if she never meant to get in the way, and you never tried to dive after him yourself?

Hero calls you, and asks you how you’ve been doing.

You tell him how Sunny played to your parents and you, he asks you about how Sunny’s violin survived, and you tell him that Sunny bought a new violin. Sometimes you feel envious about Sunny’s skill with the violin. Musical instruments are hard, and Sunny’s so good with his, even after four years of not practicing.

You wonder how Sunny’s new instrument looks. You’ve spent a lot of your time with everyone else to buy the old one, but this one, while likely mostly paid for by his mother’s money, was bought by him. It could probably say something about how Sunny sees himself.

You don’t think Sunny likes himself, to think of that. He wouldn’t black out the photos if it didn’t hurt for him to remember that he killed Mari.

Sunny killed Mari. This is something you still don’t want to believe.

But if it was an accident, does it really matter? He loved her more than any of you did, and he would never do it on purpose.

She’d want him to move on and have a happy life. Or, given what Sunny told you, a life, any life.

You’ll be home by the morning.

Sunny must have managed to reach out to Aubrey. This is good. You still don’t want to make up with her, if only because you feel like she should be the one to make the first step. The fact that she’s one person who you aren’t really good at getting along with — despite being close, back when Mari was still alive — doesn’t help. This also means that if you run into Sunny, she will also be there. This isn’t as good, for the reasons you’ve just considered.

Hopefully, by the time you wake up, you’ll think of something to do about that.

Chapter Text

Your whole body is shaking as Aubrey helps you on your feet. Seconds ago, you could barely move. You still need rest, but first you need to make sure the person who attacked you isn’t here.

You shamble to the lake, helped by your friends, and look at the floating, bleeding corpse. He’s almost serene in death.

Thoughts blur in your head; you’re not sure where you are, or who this is, although it’s almost certain that you’ve seen him before.

Or, at least, you’ve seen these glasses.

You lean forward, and almost stumble. Basil nods and pulls the glasses of the body, handing them to you as Aubrey keeps you from falling.

“We—”, you stop, catching breath as you pocket the glasses, “—we need to hide the body. We shouldn’t let anyone f-find out.”

You feel like this was someone extremely important, but you can’t recognize him.

You sit down and watch your friends pull the corpse out of the lake and into the forest. Hopefully, nobody would look there.

Not that the police would actually bother with investigating, you think.

Polly arrives shortly after you’ve hidden the stranger’s body, and helps you to get to Basil’s home.

Your body doesn’t want to listen to you, making you put effort into every step. You weren’t so exhausted right before you almost drowned.

You collapse into Basil’s bed, and try to let yourself get lost in the depths of sleep.

You’re alone in the White Room, again.

The room is vandalized, again.

You get to work, again.

You open the door, and return to the playground. Mari is there, and so is Basil.

“Sunny, I was so scared for you!”

Yes, yes, you’re alive. You thank Basil for his help and hug him.

“Mari told me you disappeared into the barn, and I—”

Oh, okay, this must be the one living in your mind and paying the rent composed mostly of anxiety. You wish he started paying some other rent, like your sister’s ghost does.

You don’t really understand why, by the notion of this Mari — the one who’s currently petting your head and consoling you over your near-death experience — being a ghost keeps slipping away like a fistful of sand whenever it surfaces.

Aubrey still isn’t here, unfortunately.

She’s probably so worried about you that she can’t sleep, just like Basil. Or maybe you’ve left her behind on Otherworld, in the cattail field barn.

You need to inspect the barn.

There’s nothing inside but your bat, a mirror and the percussion score, which all but screams “quest item” if this husk of a dream works in the same way your escapades in your hikikomori phase did.

You pick it from the ground and stuff it into your pockets, right next to the glasses.

You don’t remember when you picked up the glasses — wait, you did it when you were awake. Maybe these glasses are so important that you just had to dream them up in your pockets.

Maybe you’re still repressing things, like who these glasses belong to. Maybe it was your father.

That would be absurd, though, because it would mean your father nearly killed you, and Aubrey actually killed your father, and your father actually came back to the Faraway to put flowers on Mari’s grave and exact immature revenge on Basil and you.

This is so absurd it has no right to be true. Therefore, it isn’t true, and it wasn’t your father.

You should probably go and wake up. You’re not sure how you are supposed to wake up on purpose, but lying in your bed would probably work.

You put the glasses on the chest of drawers and look around the room once more when your laptop beeps.

You open it, and look at the keyboard. Three keys are missing, as expected. The remaining keys are covered in a mess of blood and black sharpie ink.

The image on the screen flickers between several sceneries you don’t want to think about. Messy gray static, colourless grass of your backyard, a vet’s office, bloody clouds, countless tally marks, a messy sketch resembling the treehouse’s interior.

You’d immensely appreciate it if whatever makes you clean the room up whenever you get to wake up stopped making you spend time on that.

You consider sleep, but you aren’t sleepy, and will have problems with falling asleep. You could probably do something with all the time you have here.

There’s not much to do. You could draw more, or do something with your laptop. Alternatively, you could practice with the violin.

The softball bat in your arm flickers, and is replaced with the violin bow as you blink. This would probably be very convenient in the future.

You pick the violin itself up from the floor, and decide to focus on arpeggio chords.

You wake up late in the morning.

Aubrey and Basil are sitting next to your bed, asleep. They have probably kept watch over your sleep for the entire night.

Your friends care about you a lot.

Your body still aches a bit, but you should probably brush your teeth, and—

“Sunny, you’re awake!”

You greet Kel and let yourself be tackled.

“Kim told me what’s going on. Sunny, what the—”

“Language!”

“Sorry, Polly. Anyway, Sunny, what the heck have you been doing?”

You bluntly respond that you’ve been doing the same stuff you two did before you left: patched relationships and enjoyed the weather.

“You nearly died—”

You tell him that you are alive now, so, maybe, that’s not as important.

“And Aubrey—”

Yes, you tell him, she saved your life, and absolutely nothing else happened and he shouldn’t even think about why she needed to intervene.

“I need to talk to Basil—”

“He is asleep after being awake for the entire night, so you shouldn’t wake him up.”

Unfortunately, Kel doesn’t bother with Polly’s warnings, and rushes into his room. You don’t try to stop him.

Polly looks at you, and you feel guilty.

“He’s fixated on you, Sunny.”

You know that.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be around him much. Especially after how, according to Aubrey, you pushed him into the water.”

You respond that in your defense, he can keep himself on the surface, and you were the one who nearly drowned from being forced into the water.

“Sunny, he‘s growing up without parents. As someone who does his mother’s duty, I don’t want him to grow up unhealthily attached to someone else.”

You tell Polly that you sometimes think about her as Basil’s actual mother, and she chuckles. Maybe she does think it’s actually pretty funny.

“Nevertheless, I’d appreciate it if you tried to keep at least some distance from Basil. He’d probably never get off the phone if the number I gave your mother was his and not mine.”

That is true, you admit.

Two half-asleep zombies shamble behind the radiant Kel, and you notice that the breakfast is on the table.

Chapter Text

It’s Wednesday, you think.

There’s food for the four of you. Polly surrendered her portion to Kel and is busy with a pair of soon-to-be-fried eggs.

Kel opens the bottle of orange juice — “borrowed” from your backpack — and starts asking the same questions he’s tried to needle you with. Fortunately, Basil and Aubrey are too sleepy to bother themselves with answering, and Polly has no interest in telling him what transpired.

You probably will have to tell him, eventually.

You finish your porridge, and stand up. Someone is knocking on the door.

You tell Polly that you’ll answer the door, and are in no way surprised to discover Kim there.

“You’re still alive, nerd?”

You nod, and turn to Aubrey to tell her that her companion has arrived. She nods, still half-asleep.

“Aubrey, did you and Basil stay up the entire night?”

You tell her they were watching over you after your experience, and ask her if she’s going to come in or not.

Kim sits down, munching down on something, and you join her as Kel drops down next to you two.

“Kim, what happened? Sunny refuses to tell me anything, and everyone else is too asleep to respond to me.”

“Sunny told you everything you need to know, Kel.” Polly turns off the stove and sits down next to Basil. “You shouldn’t pry if he doesn’t want to tell you anything else.”

You look into Kel’s eyes. If you could see into his head, you’d expect his brain to do the best approximation of a mechanical calculator’s incessant ratchet as he’s trying to figure out what happened.

You’re not sure if Polly knows. You’ll need to ask Basil if he told her.

Basil and Aubrey finish their portions, and walk over, before dropping on the floor.

“Aubrey, I think—”

Aubrey glares daggers at Kel as he stumbles. You gauge her stare, and briefly consider how even given her exhaustion she manages to be immensely threatening without even saying a word.

You break the awkward silence by saying that you’re chill with her, now.

It takes Kel a few seconds before he continues.

“I think I should apologize for treating you like an enemy all that time, too. I should have been there for you when Mari died, and I wasn’t. I should have understood that Sunny’s hurt you a lot, and I should have given you space to deal with it.”

“It’s fine. You did. I’ve been running from my problems all the time, and you forced me to confront them.”

You run your hand through your hair, and your fingers catch onto the headband. You’re not entirely sure how the headband stayed on. Maybe it’s merged with your head and you’re always going to be a cat.

The headband slips off easily once you decide to check that. You put it back on afterwards.
“Are the two of you going to make up and resume your normal bickering, by any chance?”

You keep being surprised by Basil’s snark.

“You two better. I didn’t drag Sunny out of the city for you to keep wallowing in vitriol.”

You tell Kim and Basil that Aubrey and Kel probably will return to their normal bickering in a day or two, and suggest visiting Kel’s parents.

“Do that without me, please.” Kim stands up, and pulls Aubrey up; the latter goes along without any resistance. “I need to talk to Aubrey, and I would prefer it if you didn’t listen in.”

“If you want to talk about what happened at the lake, everyone but Kel and Polly were there, so you shouldn’t be that discreet about that.”

“Basil, you greenery nerd, you know what I’m talking about.”

You poke Kim in the side, and she sighs.

Basil, Sunny and you leave for your house shortly afterwards. You should probably buy more water or juice, given how it’s quite hot outside.

“Sunny, what happened?” You need to know. He’s definitely not telling you something important.

First of all, he brushed off his near-death experience, second of all, Basil and Aubrey spent the entire night watching him sleep, third of all, Kim of all people being the one to tell you that Sunny’s out cold at Basil’s house?

“Basil, maybe you could tell me what happened?”

The boy rotates the camera in his arms for a few seconds as he’s thinking. Finally, he decides that you’re trustworthy enough to discuss this with.

“I was approached by Sunny’s father, who wanted to take it out on me. Sunny pushed me out of the way and almost drowned. Aubrey hit him in the head and rescued Sunny. We hid the body in the forest, so that it wouldn’t be found.”

You look at Sunny. “Sunny, did Aubrey really kill your father?”

Sunny looks back, and asks you if that makes sense to you.

“Well, Basil says that it did happen, and I don’t see a reason to mistrust him on this. He was there, right?”

“I don’t have a father. My father left at-at some point. He wouldn’t randomly show up like that.”

Sunny’s not going to acknowledge that, is he.

“Aubrey, I need to ask you something.”

You look up from the textbook and look at Kim.

“What is going on between you and Sunny?”

This is the last thing you want to think about. Nevertheless, if you think about that hard enough, maybe you won’t have to do that in the future.

“He’s got a crush on me that he nursed for four years, he dragged me into his dreamworld where he almost lived for four years after Mari’s death, and he thinks the world of me.”

“And what about you?”

“I missed him a lot, and I think he’s cute.” You think about the letter. You definitely used to like him, back when you talked to each other, but that doesn’t actually matter. Kids have meaningless crushes all the time. What does matter is whether you like him like that now, and you aren’t sure whether you have an actual crush on him, or it’s just a mixture of protectiveness and normal friendly appreciation you feel toward most members of your gang.

“And the adult—”

“Yes, it was his father.” You feel no guilt over what you’ve done.

From a more cynical perspective, Sunny is your ticket to a saner life, if only because he’s never going to turn his back on you, even after all that’s happened.

“Kim, if you’re jealous, I need you to know that I care about all of you very much.” You can’t help but feel a slightest tinge of resentment that she never bothered to enter, or break, into your house until Sunny came along. “You’re going to be a part of my life, no matter what happens, but—”, you bite down on your lip, “—I don’t think I can answer your question now.”

You push down on the handle, and hear wailing. You’re alarmed at first, but then you recall that Kel has a baby sister. Sally, right?

“MOM, I’M BACK—”

“—Kel, you shouldn’t yell like that—”

“—GUESS WHO’S HERE—”

“Kel!”

His mother smiles as she sees you and Basil.

“Sorry, mom,” Kel mutters, in a ‘I should probably keep it down’ voice, “anyway, look who has showed up!”

“Sunny, I didn’t know you’re here! Where are you staying?”

You respond, without any enthusiasm, that you’ve broken into your treehouse on Monday and slept at Basil’s house on Tuesday.

“Sunny, do you want to stay in our house while you’re in Faraway? We have a free bed, at least until—”

You tell them that you know Hero is in the city, and will probably come home at some point, and you’re fine with staking Hero’s bed.

Chapter Text

You spend time gaming away at Kel’s console, without a worry in the world, as its owner is playing basketball with your peers in the park.

You choose a role-playing video game about a boy and his friends saving the world after finding a meteorite. You’ve never had the heart to play it until its completion, back when you first had a chance to play it.
Things keep changing so fast.

Basil enters the room as you’re dealing with a minor boss, and you turn to face him.

“Sunny, are you going to have dinner with everyone?”

You ask him what he was doing.

“Kel’s mom asked me to help her with her daughter, and I just had to help her out. Childcare is so exhausting for her.”

You ask him if he wants to join you, and when Basil points out that the game you’re playing is singleplayer, you start digging through Kel’s cartridge stash to find a replacement until you settle on a Mario title.

WHY IS IT SO LOUD—

You panic as a head-splitting noise of a trumpet wreaks havoc on your room.

You turn your head and see Kel, doubled over from laughter, with a shiny instrument in his arms.

This thing is going to enter your nightmares and stay there.

“Kel, what the—”

“Hey, look what my parents got me!”

You tell him that this is a trumpet.

“Yeah, a trumpet! Now we can play together!”

You tell him that you cannot play the violin with him, since you’ve left it at home because you’re afraid of breaking it and he’d have to take the heavy brass instrument with him if he wanted to play with you.

“You’re right. Besides, I still need to practice a lot! Can you help me?”

“Kel, Sunny is a violinist, not a trumpeter—”

Another ear-shattering noise fills the room, as you yell at Kel, asking him to stop trying to deafen you.
“Oh, right.” He frowns a bit.

You reassure him that it’s alright, but he isn’t supposed to just blast the air through the mouthpiece.

“Okay! Could you help me to practice, then? You may not be a player but you can probably correct my mistakes, right?”

You tell him that you’ll try, and advise to start with lowering the pressure.

You begin with showing Kel how to hold a single consistent tone, and then suggest using the valves to tamper with the pitch. Basil looks at the two of you, entranced.

The music lesson is interrupted once your room is invaded by an uninvited yet expected guest.

“What the three of you are doing, anyway—”

TOOT

“KEL!”

You hope he won’t startle Aubrey like that anymore.

The girl lightly pushes Kel, who takes a step back and drops onto his bed, sitting down.

“Aubrey, have you heard Sunny play the violin?”

“Of course not. He’s left his violin at home, Kel.”

“We could go to his home, then?”

“Kel, I think you’re forgetting that Sunny moved away. He lives in the city now! A whole trip from the Faraway!”

Thank you, Basil, for keeping that in mind.

“Well, Sunny did get here on his own together with Kim, right?”

Kel is technically right, but that doesn’t mean you remember how to get back to the city on your own.

“So you suggest getting to the city on our own, for the sake of listening to Sunny’s violin?”

“Aubrey, my brother is also in that city, and we can probably find some stuff to do aside from listening to Sunny.”

“Fine! I’m in. I don’t have anything better to do, here, and it’s one less night I need to spend in one house with my mother.”

“Is there a problem with your mother—”

“Basil, you haven’t been to my house, right?”

“No, Aubrey, I have never had a reason to go there, especially after you decided to take your frustrations out on me.”

“Aubrey, don’t you have your friend group—”

“The Hooligans will be fine. They’re used to me disappearing ever since then, and you can probably call Kim on the phone if I need to talk to them.”

“Why can’t you?”

Snap!

“I don’t have a phone, Kel.”

Wait, right, that’s a problem. As you quietly think about whether you want to go home now, Basil turns the console off and stands up.

“I’ll need to ask permission from Polly. If she says yes, I’ll be at Aubrey’s house in half an hour.”

“And if she says no?”

“Then I won’t be there, because I won’t be going without her permission. See you!”

You go down the stairs with Basil and see Kel’s dad in front of the TV, fiddling with some sort of a colourful contraption. He hails you as you approach him.

“Sunny, you look healthier than you did a month ago. Can you help me with this?”

Close up, it looks like a cube composed of tiny rotating coloured squares. You decide to sit down and spend time on it.

You don’t exactly remember how to unscramble it correctly, but by the time Kel comes along and tells you it’s time to go, you unscramble one more side, making it wholly red next to wholly white.

“Kel, where are you going?”

“We wanted to take a trip to the city. We’ll probably stay at Sunny’s place.”

Kel’s father takes a few seconds to think about what his son just said.

“Fine. Your brother is there, right? Stay safe and don’t forget to call us.”

“I will!”

You pick your bicycle up where you’ve left it, and notice Kel’s own ride as he steers towards you. Judging by the size of the backpack, there’s a lot of things inside. The trumpet, too.

“Are you ready, Sunny?”

You ask him if he’s bought something to drink, and decide that you should buy something for yourself when he offers you a can of Orange Joe.

Coffee and orange juice should have never met each other.

Aubrey opens the door, things packed, holding a scooter.

“What happened to your old bike?”

“None of your business.”

“Aubrey, can’t you borrow a bike from Kim?”

“No, Kel, I am not borrowing a bike from Kim, that is her bike and I can do just fine with the scooter.”

You tell her that she’s going to exhaust herself before you get to the city.

“In that case I can borrow your bike, right?”

This makes sense to you, at least.

Chapter Text

You hand your bicycle to Aubrey after you descend down the ramp, and pick up the scooter. Compared to your mother’s not-yet-a-gift, the scooter is noticeably slower.

The trip is noticeably silent. Nobody feels like talking, you suppose.

You call for a break as you break out of the forest next to the city, in a section of a park that you’ve never seen before. Kel brakes, and, as you ask him to pass you something to drink, gives you a can of Orange Joe.

You have no choice but to poison yourself with this foul mixture. The taste is bitter and sour and sweet and you would never touch this foul liquid again if you ever had an option not to.

You ask Aubrey to give you your bicycle back.

“I’m still tired. Kel, can you give me your bike?”

Kel grimaces and picks the scooter up.

“You’re the one who knows the way around, Sunny. Where do we go now?”

You tell him that you don’t actually know the way around and you’ve never been to this part of the park.

“Then we just need to find a way to where you do know the way around!”

He takes off, skating to what looks like a bigger road, and you follow him.

You hop off the bicycle and beckon your party as you hop off next to the pizza shop. It’s fifteen minutes before it closes.

“Sunny, now’s not the time—”

You tell Aubrey you’re hungry and you don’t think there’s much food at home, because your mother is apparently fine with you gorging yourself on all the pizza.

Aubrey parks Kel’s bicycle and opens the door.

The owner notices you, and you tell him that you’re here to shop.

You collapse on the floor as Kel packs the boxes on the table. You’re so tired, even if you don’t want to sleep. You can’t sleep.

“Are you going to have dinner with us?”

You nod and continue lying on the floor, face down, a few more minutes before Kel toots his trumpet, startling you.

You force yourself up and angrily swipe at Kel, aiming to push rather than punch, and he cackles as you barely catch him in the side.

“Hey, hey, you need to eat.”

That’s right. All of us must eat.

You sit down at the table and start looking for the remaining chunks with the most cheese on them, washing down the molten goodness with whatever remains of juice you have found in the fridge.

There’s not much to do and your companions share your sleepiness without the downside of insomnia, so you should probably take your pills and go to sleep.

You only have two beds in this house, but several mattresses, therefore, stealing your mother’s mattress to deposit it in your room is obviously the correct solution to an utter lack of bed frames.

“Good night, Sunny.” Kel drops onto his mattress and falls asleep almost immediately.

You lie down and close your eye, only for Aubrey to tug at your arm.

“Sunny, I think we should have told Kel about that incident.”

You tell her that you’ll work that out once you get there.

You close your eyes, and open them again.

You get the bottle out, and start working on the defacing.

Once you’re done, you look for the bat that you should have left here, and only find a wide, yellow ball with stitching running through it.

You’re pretty sure you’re supposed to hold a softball in one hand, not in both like a basketball. Nevertheless, you pick it up, and try to bounce it off the floor. It doesn’t bounce very well, probably because you’re doing that on the carpet.

Mewo, or her memory, hisses as you throw the ball at the wall, and it bounces back to you after ricocheting off the floor. In your defence, a black cat is almost invisible when she’s curled into a fuzzy ball on a black carpet.

You crouch down and pet the cat, and she purrs in satisfaction before turning on her back, inviting you to rub her belly and get profoundly clawed.

Perhaps even to death.

You bat the thought aside and play with the cat until you hear someone knocking on the door, locked shut.

“Whoever you are, wake up! I know you’re there!”

“Kel, it should be Sunny’s room.”

“How do you know it’s Sunny’s room, Aubrey?”

“You’re asleep and in his dream. We’re currently sharing a dream, all three of us.”

“What?”

That’s right, Kel is most likely not aware of what is going on, so — wait, what are you even wearing?

The mirror displays a messy set of black-and-white pyjamas and short socks. You probably need a better set of clothes, although you don’t have a wardrobe. Therefore, you need to add a wardrobe to the room.

You open the colossal newly-materialized sketch and decide on a white dress shirt, a black vest, long black pants and black shoes with white socks. Look at you, looking all official as if you’re about to play in a real-life philharmonic orchestra.

“Sunny, we know you’re here, open the door!”

You yell that you’re changing clothes, and, once you’re done, you approach the door with the intent to open the lock. Of course, there’s no opening the lock, because the door is, as always, lacking a keyhole.

You only have an oversized softball, and throwing it at the door probably won’t work, but in this dream logic it might as well suffice. And if it doesn’t, you can hit it against the relatively fragile door until it yields.

Once you break out of the White Room, you collide with Kel, who must have failed to acknowledge you’re trying to break out and therefore kept standing next to the door.

“Ow!”

You apologize and say that you expected Kel to not just stand there as you’re breaking out.

“There’s a lock, can’t you just open the lock—”

You tell him you still haven’t found the keys.

“What? I mean, you say you still haven’t found the keys, but— do you have this dream all the time, or what?”

“Yes, he’s had this dream for the last four years.”

A few seconds later, Kel gulps, clearly uncomfortable from Aubrey’s remark.

“Sunny, can we have a chat between us two? Without Kel?”

You nod, not knowing what to expect, and scale the stairs. The Favourite is missing, thankfully.

“This is a dream, right?”

You sit down on the pier and look at the watery horizon.

“Yes, this is a dream.”

“You know that you’re supposed to forget that you’re asleep when you are asleep, Sunny. But here we are, asleep and aware that we’re asleep.”

You tell Aubrey that this is called lucid dreaming, and apparently being exposed to you made her a lucid dreamer.

“Then why is Kel refusing to acknowledge that? I told him he’s asleep, and he’s still not wholly...there.”

“Maybe something else needs to happen.”

Chapter Text

You’re accompanied by Aubrey, relatively lucid, Kel, relatively not lucid, Mari, uncannily cheery, and Basil’s replica, entrusted with the basket, as the five of you make your way through the Pyrefly Forest.

You’re very fortunate that Hero is still stuck in the Orange Oasis and doesn’t have to deal with all the spiders.

Another potted plant explodes in your face, and you wipe the clay dust from your face. To your left, Aubrey and Kel argue between themselves as they wail on a creature that looks like a weird cross between a spider and a bear.

Your hyperactive imagination decided that these rare bears are not dangerous enough, apparently, after you’ve successfully disposed of eight of them in a row.

Kel calls out to you, passing you the ball he’s holding, and you drop yours to slam dunk it onto another spider-like creature as Aubrey yells at you for accosting a bug bunny.

In your defence, it almost bit you and you’re not sure if they’re not venomous.

“They may be poisonous, Aubrey!”

“They are venomous, not poisonous,” you respond, “unless you think that eating them is a good idea, Kel.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.”

“What if I bite it and it dies?”

“Then you’re the venomous one, Kel! Jesus, keep your eyes on the bearder!”

Kel dodges another swipe of the bearder and, as you pass the ball back to him, dunks it, causing the creature to recoil. You pass your “softball” to Aubrey, and she slams it with her bat, knocking the bearder down before moving in and delivering another blow that finally makes it stop moving.

You reach into the plushy insides of the arachnid teddy bear and pull out an arcade ticket for a claw machine. Hahaha, very funny.

You open the door to the stage where you’ve faced down Sweetheart, and notice that the chairs have been replaced with benches.

Aubrey sits down on one of the benches and closes her eyes, as Kel and you look around the room. The stage’s floor is repaired, but there’s still a tiny hole you can probably squeeze through. There’s a library down there, stuffed with all your memories.

Your goal isn’t this place, either way. You’re looking for someone else.

The Keeper is not where you’ve expected it to appear.

“Sunny, what are you looking for?”

You tell Kel to watch out for a black creature resembling a curved lamp post with three black eyes on a white mask.

“What is that creature, anyway?” Aubrey asks, “Is it something that you need to find whatever you’re looking for here?”

You tell her that you’re looking for an entry to a library, since the entry to it you remember using is walled off.

“And the creature can provide you with that entry?”

You nod, and accept that you may have to descend into the Dungeon.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes”, you repeat. “Basil, can you put the basket down here?”

He nods, and puts the red beacon down. Your companions are going to stay here.

“I’ll be back soon.”

You dart off and start checking the rooms one by one. Soon, you find what you’re looking for — a quartet of skeletons in a locked room. You kick in the rusty door, which falls off the hinges, and approach one of the smaller skeletons with a distinctive pink bow on its skull.

You’d rather not let your friends see this, so into your pocket it goes. Now, to check the rest of these rooms.

You proceed to remove Aubrey’s bows from her skeletons. Without them, it’s impossible to tell who’s met their grisly end here.

Next, the torture racks. You wince as you release your party’s remains one by one, letting the skeletons fall from the racks, joints undone due to age and strain, and collect the pink ribbon.

So much for you, Sweetheart. Always so needy and cruel, always taking and taking until nothing is left to be taken.

And then you take what remains.

You try not to think of the pink bows as you return to the blanket room and signal that it’s okay to carry on.

It has to be Spaceboy’s room, as the only remaining room with meaning.

“You have come back, dreamer.”

You have come back.

“She will not return.”

And so you shall not return to this place. It’s heavy on your conscience in the same way your past is.

“Do you still want to claim the power it has?”

“No.” You have found a place to call home elsewhere. You will have to do something about the Castle either way, but right now you need to get to the Library.

“I understand. It will not be a place to call home. You have found it, awake, and your home without warmth is no longer so. Nevertheless, there is a need in your shining eyes.”

“The library. I need the library.”

“And so you shall have the passage.” The eastern wall cracks, and reveals a narrow tunnel. “It’s a long way there, but you already know it, don’t you?”

You’re alone, again.

Your friends have lost themselves in the labyrinthine tunnels, just like you’ve got lost in the cattail fields.

You push open the door to the Library, and notice a shadow dart towards you. The colossal softball in your arms is all you have, so you throw it at the shadow and scutter to the side, hiding behind a pillar.

It can’t see you, can it?

It looks like a deer, if a deer had thin legs and a distorted body with raised hindquarters.

“I’m sorry.”

The ball is again in your hands. You need to distract it and get to wherever the piano was—

Something crashes far in front of you, and moans in pain. It’s someone you can know.

The shadow hears that, and runs to the source. You need to stop it before it harms them.

You hear another person land with a repulsing squishy sound, and cringe. Whatever is going on there, you need to see.

You lean to the side, and notice Aubrey standing in a quickly decaying black mess, legs stained with black up to her knees, next to Kel, who probably broke something in his fall.

Aubrey brings her bat down onto the mess, and it melts as she readies her bat and swings it at the shadow deer.

This is your cue to slam the deer with the ball.

“Sunny, where the hell did you go?”

You reply that they got lost.

“You got lost, and Kel broke his left arm. You realize that he needs help, right?”

Kel moans in pain again, and stands up.

“Sunny, we need to do something about my arm, and there are all these shadow creatures—”

“Allow me!”

Mari must have appeared out of nowhere, as she always does. Hopefully she can’t read your memories, not that you have anything to hide from your sister.

“Sunny, do you have bandages?”

You roll your eyes as you produce a fistful of pink ribbons, and notice Aubrey gulp something down.

“Good! Now, please, give us a few minutes for me to make the splint.”

You pull out a book from a shelf and start reading.

It’s a Saturday morning, and you’re resentful at being forced to practice with your tutor instead of being able to watch cartoons with your friends.

You lift your bow and make a motion, letting a single note escape the violin. Your mind is elsewhere, since it doesn’t want to be here. Your friends are in the treehouse.

Second. You don’t want to remember this, yet you do. The sun is bright over the beach. You shutter the window.

Third. You are thinking about the melody you’ve played. You recall drowning, and all the times you’ve been rescued.

Fourth. This isn’t the memory you had locked there. It was changed and twisted by your experiences, as all your memories are affected by what you’ve gone through. It’s raining outside.

Fifth. You pluck the string with anxiety. Something is off about it. You adjust it and pluck it again. You’ve kept many secrets — from all the people that care about you.

Sixth. This violin is a memory, and, therefore, cannot be destroyed as long as you choose to remember and carry it in your heart.

You put the violin down.

“Well done, Sunny.”

“Well done, Sunny!”

You look at Kel, sitting on a table with his left arm covered with pink ribbons. You’re holding your scratched violin.

“You didn’t carry it here, did you?” Aubrey starts to suspect something. Unfortunately, you don’t even know what to tell her about this recent development.

You stash it into a stray empty violin case, and beckon your friends to follow you into the next room as you sling it over your back.

The thing inside that room is the last thing you needed to see in the library.

You shut the door and try to press down on it, even as the hellish phantasm is trying to break out.

“Sunny, would you allow me to take care of this?”

Sure, you tell Mari, she’s more than welcome to save you from that thing.

You step back and pull your friends away, closing your eye as your sister confronts the phantasm.

A piano chord is played.

A flash of light occurs.

You turn your head and only find your sister, standing there with a smug expression on her face.

“Nothing to fear here, Sunny! Come in, there’s someone else waiting for you.”

Hello, Mutantheart. You’re supposed to be up there, in the castle, not lost in the Lost Library.

The strawberry automaton reaches out to you and buries you in a slimy hug. Ew. Disgusting. This is probably how your friends feel like when you give them hugs.

“Get away from him!”

“Kel, she’s not dangerous. Look at her. She’s merely looking for comfort.”

“habby”

Aubrey sighs and pokes Mutantheart.

“Hey, you’re really soft and cute and pink. I like how you...appear,” Aubrey mutters, frantically looking for a way to placate the creature, “Can we please go?”

She claps, still squishing you in a way that makes it hard for you to breathe, and releases you as Mari gently pulls the strawberry menace away.

“ngry?”

Kel sighs and picks up his trumpet with one hand, before releasing a toot loud enough to make you want to flinch back into the slime to avoid hearing it.

She’s placated and leaves with Mari, leaving the three of you behind.

You snatch the trumpet score from the stand, and pocket it.

“Wait, can I—”

“You can’t play it, Kel, you don’t know the notation and you literally have an arm broken.”

“I can try!”

Aubrey sighs. You stretch your arms and proceed to leave the library. Your friends can take care of themselves.

You aren’t going to be eaten by a spider, right? There are no spiders big enough to eat you.

As it appears, there are small spiders capable of putting you to sleep with their venom, and a swarm of these sends your party back into the rightful waking state.

Chapter Text

You open your eyes. Your friends are going to wake up soon, you presume. The sun is dawning outside.

Time to brush your teeth and get some cereal because you feel hungry.

Kel is sleeping, lying on his left arm, which probably explains why he broke it in the dream. Aubrey, however, isn’t here; her scooter, however, is still inside.

Someone opens the bathroom’s door behind you, and the issue resolves itself.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Aubrey yawns as she wipes her hair with a towel. “I wanted to take a bath. Sunny, this is amazing. I feel like I haven’t been cleaner in my entire life.”

You rummage in the fridge and find a bottle of milk. The box of cereal has enough just for you three.

“You don’t mind that I’ve looked into your memories when we were asleep, do you?”

You feel your cheeks flare with your blood, and stammer out an unconvincing no.

She chuckles, and pulls the bottle of milk right out of your arms, letting you get the bowls.

You ask her if she’s feeling okay.

“Of course I’m okay, why would you ask?”

You tell her that she’s being unusually teasing towards you, and she rolls her eyes.

“We need to tell Kel what happened, right?”

Obviously, the first thing Kel does when he wakes up is asking you a very pointed question.

“Sunny, what the hell was that?”

You ask him to narrow down what he wants to know.

“Mari made me an arm splint when I broke my arm out of Aubrey’s old bows, and Aubrey killed a pair of shadow monsters before you pulled a violin out of nowhere and played a song.”

“I think I told you what was going on.”

“Aubrey, dreams are always like that!”

You tell him that he did happen to share your dream, and quickly recoup what happened to you. Kel nods along, while Aubrey silently devours the cereal until she pauses and raises her head.

“Are you two going to eat, or what?”

“I have a question.”

You ask Kel what his question is.

“When you pulled us away for Mari to clear out that room, what was inside? Also, where did you get all these ribbons?”

These are the last questions you want to answer.

“I think our guide,” Aubrey mutters as she crunches down on the remains of her breakfast, “happened to die in the Dungeon so many times that there were enough of my corpses to scavenge for these ribbons.”

You’re immensely thankful to Aubrey for saying that in your stead.

“Mari was inside,” you exhale, “but not the real Mari. A memory I want to be forgotten.”

You take another spoon, as Aubrey drinks the rest of the milk from a bowl and departs to your bedroom.

You don’t think you want her to have access to your room right now, so you—

—nevermind, you’re too slow.

You tug on the door, as the lock clicks.

“Sunny, let me change clothes!”

Time for you to go and brush your teeth, maybe.

You're following your friends as they stroll down a street, bickering over something inconsequential. The sun is above you.

It's unpleasantly warm. You blink and yawn as a stray gray cat leaps down, landing next to you, and rubs its head against your leg in acknowledgement of your communion with the feline.

You crouch and quickly pat the cat, making sure you won't lose track of your friends, before nodding a goodbye to it and hurrying along to catch up.

"Do you really want to spend time watching a movie?"

"Aubrey, what was the last time you've seen a movie in a theater?"

"I haven't and I needn't."

"Sunny, back me here! We can watch a movie together. What do you think about that?"

Watching a movie is something you could definitely enjoy doing together with your friends, so you nod in agreement.

"Cool! I've seen a theater on our way here. Let's go!"

It's the middle of the sci-fi movie, picked by Kel, and you're sympathizing, if only a bit, with the second-act betrayal.

Some truths are too painful to remember. You wouldn't betray your friends to come back to the bliss of ignorance, though.

You love them too much for that.

The protagonist says that he believes that he can accomplish the impossible, and you look at Kel.

"They're going to do something epic, Sunny," he whispers, excited, as he scrapes out the remains of his popcorn out of the basket, "and they're definitely blowing at least something up."

You put your left hand on the armrest, and feel Aubrey squeeze your palm as it covers hers.

"What do you—"

"Shhh." She's listening, rapt, to the female lead's speech. That woman is so cool.

She reminds you of her a lot.

To think of this, you would probably have incorporated the movie into your dreams, if its underlying theme wasn't so hostile to their entire raison d'etre.

The heist scene and the chase scene pass silently. You are only a little nervous when the climax happens, and have no words for it.

This is so damn cool.

Of course he should have come back for him.

Of course Kel should have come back for you.

You leave the theater. The sun is still quite high, as Sunny and Aubrey follow you, hand still in hand.

"You look cute together."

Sunny mutters something silent, while Aubrey stares you down.

"Hey, we're friends. I am still here for you two."

Aubrey stares off in the distance, and you feel a tinge of relief.

"Mhmmm."

"You could at least pretend that you're fine with that."

"I am fine, Kel. I just want you to know when I need you to give me a bit of space."

"Only a bit! You always needed us."

"You gave me plenty of space after I screwed up."

You can't argue with that.

"I'm sorry about that. You were in pain, just like all of us, and—"

She nods. "Sunny, what do you think?"

He lifts his head and nods, still partially absent.

"You heard that, right? Hello?"

"Yes." Sunny is still not wholly here, but he can hear you just fine. "I'll be there for you two. And Hero, and Basil."

He feels like he could do nothing less.

You feel something inside you react to his words, as if a long-forgotten desire inside of you was, at last, fulfilled.

You're here, now, and so are two of your friends. Sunny still looks malnourished compared to you two. He's been eating better and going outside, sure, but it's still going to take a while until he catches up.

He could probably make use of some physical activity.

Chapter Text

You lower your cap and squeeze the baseball in your hands. White leather with red stitching, which you run a finger across.

"Come on!"

You turn your head and nod at Kel, who dragged you out to the baseball diamond. He insisted on physical activity, and you agreed to one of Aubrey's choice.

Mari would probably approve.

You lift your arm, trying to recall how she did this, and snap your wrist as you release the ball, sending it soaring towards the plate.

Aubrey lunges out and swings, sending the ball past you towards Kel, who tries to catch it and fails as it passes right over his glove.

"Nice work," Aubrey grins as Kel runs off to fetch the batted ball, "but you need to try harder than that."

You catch the ball, tossed back to you, and wind up another pitch, which strikes the ground a few feet in front of the plate. Aubrey walks over to pick it up and return to you.

You keep trying to calibrate your aim, and an hour or so later, almost all of your pitches end with a soft "thunk" and Kel darting off to retrieve the ball.

"Do you want to switch?"

Sure, you respond, you'd like to take a turn or two at batting.

Aubrey shrugs and casually sends the next pitch flying in a straight line, until it collides with the wire net at the far end.

"You're spent, Sunny. Kel, would you-"

"On it!"

You return to the plate and pick up Mari's bat from your backpack. It should suffice.

You stand to the right—

"If you're right-handed, you should probably stand to the left!"

Kel is right. You move over, and prepare for the pitch. You need to hit the ball, right? That's all.

Once it comes, you reach out and barely hit it, sending it straight up. Ten or so seconds later, it lands behind the plate.

"That was a ball, Sunny. You didn't have to hit it."

You ask him what is the point of the game if you're not supposed to hit balls.

"It was too far from you, so you could decline to swing at it."

Thanks, Aubrey.

You pass the ball back to Kel, and cleanly miss the next pitch. The third time, you manage to land a solid hit, but Kel snatches it right out of thin air.

"Sorry, you're out!"

You’re standing at the foul line, next to Sunny who’s lining up a throw.

“Five dollars he’ll get at least one of three.”

“Sure.” You accept Aubrey’s bet without hesitation.

The first throw Sunny makes bounces off the hoop and flies off, until Aubrey catches it and passes it back to you.

“You need to aim a bit higher, Sunny. Try to hit the inner rectangle!”

He nods, dribbles the ball once, twice, thrice and throws it at the backboard. The basketball falls down, bouncing twice off the hoop before rolling into the basket and falling down.

Sunny smiles as he collects the ball, and makes another throw which cleanly lands into the basket without touching the hoop.

“You’re getting good at this, Sunny!”

He nods, and points out that you owe Aubrey ten dollars.

Late in the evening, after you are done with this mess of a training, you're accosted by a mugger. Oh, wait, six of them. They’re after your money.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

You didn't expect Sunny to treat such a potential threat with such irresponsibility, especially how you’re just three kids one of whom is a malnourished shut-in.

“Shut up, kid.”

Sunny asks Aubrey if she thinks you can take them, and she shrugs.

The mugger in front of you takes it as an invitation to violence, and you lob the basketball into his face. He stumbles from shock, and you catch the ball and pass it to Sunny who violently dunks it at the mugger, who collapses.

You catch the ball and hear a sickening crunch coming from Aubrey’s direction. She’s occupied with four of the balaclava-clad muggers, one of whom is already lying on the ground, with Sunny covering her back.

“Does anyone else want me to break their bones?”

Another mugger whips out a knife, and Aubrey takes a swing at it, knocking it out of the target’s hands, ruining the victim’s mood and fingers.

Sunny takes a step forward and yanks you with his left hand, swinging his bat with the right and catching another assailant with its tip. You pass the basketball to Aubrey, and she brings the bat down on it, sending it at the disarmed mugger’s groin.

This seems like a more even fight, now. You really hope they don’t have a gun.

“I think you should leave.” Sunny’s voice isn’t agitated. If anything, your friend is bored, as if this is a perfectly average situation for him, just like one of these dream fights.

Two of the attackers — the third one seems to hang back, fumbling through a bag — take a step forward, and you launch the ball at the left one’s head as Sunny kicks the right one in the knee.

The last active mugger whips out a gun, and Aubrey swings her bat in rage, smashing his elbow before taking three more swings, until he stops moving. You crouch down; he still has a pulse.

Sunny says he wants to go home.

“Are we sure we don’t want to do something about these muggers?”

“Who cares? They attacked us, they got what they deserved.”

“They can report us to the police,” you respond, “and we’ll have problems.”

“And what are they going to say, Kel? ‘A trio of teenagers beat us, a group of six criminals, up because we tried to take their money’? You understand they’ll be ashamed of this happening too much for that, right?”

Sunny interjects that he doesn’t expect the police to do anything of use, and you agree.

“Cool. So what do you want to do now, continue whatever quest we had remaining there?”

Sunny mutters that there’s no actual quest and he’s just showing you around, and passes you your basketball.

Chapter Text

Your eyes are closed. You’re counting the clacks.

…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

You’re thinking about Hero.

You haven’t spoken face-to-face to him since you’ve left the hospital, and you’re worried about that.

…two hundred and one, two hundred and two, two hundred and three…

He seemed so cheerful, but you know how good he is at suppressing his emotions. Just like you.

Mari’s sitting to your right, steadily breathing. If she’s a ghost, she wouldn’t be breathing. But this is a dream, and, therefore, she needn’t adhere to what you’d expect from her.

You can hear Kel and Aubrey argue about something — probably ice cream, offered by a conductor — and mutter that you’d like one.

…seven hundred and sixty-seven, seven hundred and sixty-eight, seven hundred and sixty-nine…

Basil takes a photo of you as you eat ice cream; your eyes are still closed.

You need to be somewhere else. Let yourself fade away and disappear into the darkness.

Cast off this mortal coil, and leave all regrets behind.

…one thousand, three hundred and twenty-five, one thousand, three hundred and twenty-six, one thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven…

You also need to put a fridge into the White Room. Dream food doesn’t sustain your body, sure, but you remember the taste, and while Mari’s basket, delegated to Basil, and Orange Oasis exist, they aren’t a solution to the fact that you still feel hunger in your dreams.

You want to be there already.

The train slows down.

…one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight, one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine, two hundred.

The train stops. Orange Oasis is right outside.

Time to open your eyes, Sunny.

You lean over the pile of sand, which was a figure of a cowboy just a moment ago. This cowboy could probably teach you something, if only he wasn’t a pile of sand.

You dig your arms into it, and visualize the sand statue, letting it flow upwards as you guide and shape the sand with your hands. It feels similar to shaping the walls of the White Room, if more difficult compared to that.

Now, to breathe life into the memory. Kel stares, rapt, at your work as colour returns to sand; Aubrey seems to think that this is an entirely ordinary occurrence.

“Ow! Kiddo, I need a drink.”

You ask the cowboy who he is, as he leaps down the sugary cliff and hurries off to the bar.

“We need to catch up to him.”

“Why?”

You tell Aubrey that the cowboy has to know something important.

Once you’re there, you notice him talking to a tall birdman.

“...and then the kiddo just lifted me out of the sand. He’s pretty powerful these days, to think of it. Or, maybe, this world is becoming weaker as he’s leaving it behind…”

“Mr. Outback, I don’t have time for this. You understand that I only care about the Dreamer in the capacity to which he can bring my son back?”

“I hope you realize that if he leaves for good, you and your son will cease to exist, Pinkbeard. Few humans have such a developed preconscious, and in those who don’t, inhabitants are only barely aware of who they are.”

He spots you, and waves his arm.

“Hey, kiddo! What’s your name, again? Omori, was it?”

“It’s Sunny.”

“Ah, I see. You’re fully awake now, aren’t ya? We’ve got a problem with the ol’ Pinkbeard here. His son, Captain Spaceboy —”

— of course it would return to that —

“— has gone missing. Would you help us and rescue him, boy? It wouldn’t cost ya much.”

He tosses you something, and Kel snatches it out of the air — a pack of batteries.

“Maybe you’ll find something else while you’re looking for him.”

You spot it on the floor — a tiny flat black rectangle, labeled with a white letter. Another laptop key, another consciousness lock to open.

G

The five of you pass through the circle, and leave the igloo.

“He has to be on the top. It’s always the top.”

You nod.

“We just need to get to the top of the mountain.”

Another lock, another key.

Y

You don’t remember when it all stopped, but here you are, awake. You need to ask Sunny more questions about what happened to him, once he wakes up.

You decide to brush your teeth, and find the bathroom locked. Aubrey is already inside. Why is she so fast? This isn’t fair.

She leaves the bathroom, and you lock the door behind yourself after you enter. Turn on the faucet, start brushing your teeth and washing your face.

Your phone is ringing; someone must be calling you. You’re busy here! They’ll have to wait.

The phone goes silent, then awakens again, as you pick it up and notice it’s Hero.

The trumpet score is lying in front of you, meticulously labeled and annotated.

Sunny asks you if you’re ready, and you nod.

Paying attention to the score and the trumpet at the same time is hard; you can see that Sunny doesn’t seem to have such a problem. He’s been playing for a while, and had a tutor, though.

You make a few mistakes, but Sunny doesn’t notice. Whatever. You just need to keep playing.

Once you’re done, he says you’ve done well.

“I’ve made mistakes, though.”

He says that you’re doing great for your first experience with the score. Maybe all the physical training pays off in more ways than expected.

He stares off in the distance and mutters about how he feels you’re missing some kind of a metronome.

“Do you think we need a metronome? Or, maybe, a drummer?”

Sunny looks at Aubrey.

“What do you two want from me?”

The three of you are going to the music shop. Sunny is phoning someone — apparently, his mother.

“Mom, I took money to buy a drum set.”

“No, it’s a gift.”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Love you too, mom.”

He ends the call.

“Sunny, is it really a good idea to borrow that much money?”

Sunny says that his mother is fine with that, or maybe she’s just half-asleep from overexertion and doesn’t mind that the two of you are taking her money to get Aubrey a late birthday gift.

You stay outside as your friends enter the shop, waiting. You don’t really want to go inside, if only because you’d rather tell your parents about your experience with the trumpet score.

You don’t get to, because you hear screaming from inside the shop. Aubrey must have been gravely insulted by someone.

You’re talking to the owner, and decide to ask him about his son.

“As I’ve told you, he’s started fixing his life only a year ago, but he still doesn’t have a spine. Abandoned his wife and daughter, neither of whom I’ve ever seen. She must be your age, kids.”

Aubrey growls something as she pulls the drum set to the counter.

“Careful there, girl. This one is heavy. Very heavy.”

“I’m fine,” she replies.

“What about your parents, kids? Couldn’t you get them here to do the heavy lifting for you?”

You reply that your father’s missing, and your mother’s currently on a business trip.

“Shame. What about you, girl? You don’t seem happy about that.”

“I haven’t seen my father for years, and my mother’s as good as dead.”

The owner rubs his chin.

“Shame. Not good, not good. Kids need their fathers. And mothers, too.”

The owner’s son — Kevin, right? — enters the room, greets you, and freezes as he spots your companion.

“Aubrey?”

In retrospect, you should have seen this coming.

Chapter Text

“I have to tell you something.”

Something happened between him and Basil. You’re not sure if Sunny’s right eye will be able to see in the future, given the stab wound. Basil wouldn’t voluntarily stab Sunny, that you know.

“Do you need help, Sunny?”

He shakes his head, inhales, exhales, and blurts something out. Something you fail to process.

He mentioned Mari, but you aren’t sure what he said. Something about Mari.

You still can’t accept that she’s dead.

No response.

Your brother is shocked. Aubrey is furious. What did Sunny say?

“Sunny,” Aubrey breaks the silence, “Please tell us this is a joke. Please tell us you didn’t do that.”

“Please,” adds Kel. “This isn’t funny, Sunny.”

Whatever he said, he wouldn’t joke about it.

“He isn’t joking. He wouldn’t joke about that.”

“We did do that. It was an accident. Sorry.”

It was an accident.

“So-”

Sunny takes off before you can ask him to clarify. Aubrey throws Basil’s camera at him. Kel is screaming at Sunny to stop.

You feel like your perception of what’s going on is being fragmented, as if you’re struggling to recall something you’ve forgotten.

It was an accident.

You wave at Kel, asking him to stay behind, and follow the kid. He couldn’t have got far away.

There he is. You just need to grab him.

It was an accident. Mari’s death was an accident.

There was nothing you could do.

There’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please calm down.”

Mari’s death was an accident. If it was an accident and Sunny apologized for it, Sunny and Basil were responsible for that accident.

He jerks, and you restrain your grip.

“Please don’t. You need to sit down, drink some water and stop trying to throw yourself off a flight of stairs.”

How did she die? They wouldn’t just hang her out of nowhere, and there wasn’t much in their house that would lead to her death.

She probably did fall down the stairs, now that you think about it.

He asks you if you’re angry.

“I...don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. I feel like I should be angry with you for not telling us about this, but - I understand.”

You hug him, and he accepts, warily.

There was nothing you could do about Mari’s death.

There’s no point in blaming Sunny.

“We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“There, there. Sit down, Sunny. We need to talk.”

Sunny sits down, closes his eye, and starts talking.

You listen to what he has to say, and try to reconstruct what happened, and why.

It’s always the expectations that are piled on people, you think. You recall talking to Sunny about Mari’s anxiety over the performance.

They shouldn’t have put in so much effort. Mari would, though. You know her well enough to be sure that she wouldn’t relent.

You don’t consider violence or other forms of retaliation against Sunny. Mari wouldn’t want you to harm her brother.

If you did, how would you live with that?

How do you already live in this world?

Sunny opens his eyes, and someone — Polly — knocks on the door and asks if Basil’s awake.

“He isn’t!” Thank you, Kel. “I hope he awakens soon, we’ve been talking about Sunny leaving—”

“Oh, Sunny, how’s your eye?”

He removes his eyepatch and says that he can see, and you exhale, relieved.

You probably need to free a chair for Polly, even as Sunny’s leaving.

Nothing left to say? Nothing left to say.

You should have done something. Visited the grave, maybe.

Maybe it would have hurt less. The pain still doesn’t go away, even now that you know.

And here you are, sitting next to the white egret orchid, hand against the tombstone, thinking what to say.

You don’t have anything to say. All that needed to be said, already had been.

“Aubrey, we need to talk.”

No response.

“You can’t live like this, Aubrey. I understand why you’ve never talked about it. You need to do something about it. We need to do something about it.”

You hear steps inside. She’s probably paying attention.

“Aubrey, you shouldn’t have left like that. Sunny didn’t mean to do anything he did. I understand why you feel like that, and—”

She opens the door. You need to reframe what you’ve been planning to say.

“Please let us help you.”

She shuts the door in your face.

Well, that was worth a shot.

You’re not a pathologist, but you’re aware of how the procedures are conducted.

You’re drowning in corpses and reports. The reports are self-contradicting, with prewritten causes of death.

You’ve given up on correcting them years ago.

There’s nothing but you, shears, a scalpel, a pen and a stack of certificates. You’ve seen these hundreds of times, in your nightmares, pale as you inspect the body.

The corpse is covered in bruises. The spine is broken at the neck. According to the report, the person died due to cerebral hypoxia by hanging.

You needn’t see the name. It’s burned into your eyes. This is something you won’t be able to forget, no matter what else you’ll be able to see in your life.

You scrawl out the reason, and amend it in fever.

Next. And next. And next. Repeat, until your fingers bleed and you can no longer think and you’re awake from this nightmare.

You'll have this nightmare again in the days to come, but now you know the answer.

Chapter Text

Your phone chimes with a message.

It’s Sunny’s mother. She reminds you that she asked you to check on her son, and she’d love it if you did it today, if you hadn’t already.

Of course you will. You were planning to do it either way. The commute will take you to his address, and you hope he’ll be at home when you arrive.

On your way to your newly appointed charge’s home, you notice your brother standing right outside a nondescript music shop, enthusiastically talking to someone over the phone. There’d be nothing unusual in it if you expected your brother to be in the city.

Change of plans.

You leave the bus at its next stop and hurry towards where Kel is. Judging from what he’s saying, he’s talking to your parents, ignoring the commotion inside the shop that’s Aubrey venting her feelings at someone else.

You tap his shoulder, and he leaps, surprised.

“Hero! What are you doing here? I thought you’re busy!”

“Sunny’s mother asked me to take care of Sunny while she’s busy. He’s inside, right?”

“How do you know?”

“Kel, you’re far away from home, standing next to a music shop, and Aubrey is inside. Why else would the two of you be here?”

He opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Sunny, who peeks out and tugs at Kel’s arm, asking him to help out with the drum set.

An old man — whom you presume to be the shop’s owner — notices you, and hails you, asking you to enter the shop.

“You must be—”

“I am Kel’s older brother, Henry, and Sunny’s current caretaker. Is something amiss?”

“Well,” he exhales, “this girl seems to be very distraught by finding out that I’m her grandfather. Nevertheless, I’m proud that my granddaughter is so willing to assert herself.”

“She’s dragging your son.”

“Her father is a spineless coward who ran from his family—”

“See, even your father agrees that you’ve fucked up!”

“Hey.” You notice Sunny finally speaking up, tugging at Aubrey’s jacket. He notes that they should just pay and leave.

“What are you talking about—”

He sighs and asks Aubrey to calm down.

“He’s right, Aubrey.” You finally break your silence. “You needn’t stay if you don’t want to talk to your father.”

She turns around, unable to respond, and catches herself before nodding and helping Sunny and her grandfather to lift the drum set.

“It’s okay, Aubrey.”

You’re not sure what to say. You should probably feel sorry about how you responded to Hero.

“Sorry.”

You look at Hero, and he nods.

“I understand how you felt, Aubrey. I’m not angry, or resentful, about that. I just want you to know that we’re still friends, if you want to be friends.”

You do want to be friends with all of them. Kel, Sunny, Hero, even Basil. They’re still a part of who you are, and you don’t think you should let go.

“Thanks,” you nod, and get a better grip on the drum set the four of you are carrying.

The drum set is heavy. Too heavy for you.

You carefully place it down, and wonder what to do next.

“Hey, let me unpack it—”

“It’s my gift, Kel! Why are you trying to open my drum set—”

“Relax.” Hero sounds tired, even if he doesn’t look so. “We’ll have a birthday celebration dinner, and then open it up. Does that look like a good solution to you?”

Aubrey nods.

You ask Hero if he’s going to cook all the food, and he smiles.

“Well, my mother asked to cook food for you, if there’s nothing else left, but...” he looks at the ceiling, as he unwraps a chocolate bar and bites into it, and then looks back at you. “...I think you would like to learn how to cook, right? You can’t let your mother and me make food for you all the time, Sunny.”

That is, unfortunately, a truth you can’t argue with.

“You do have a cookbook I can borrow for this, right? We’ll need recipes for whatever we’re going to make.”

“Hero, do you mind if we don’t stay here?”

“Kel, what are you talking about? Of course I won’t mind. You saw an arcade at some point and now want to check it out, right?”

“I’m going to challenge your brother—”

“I have a name!”

“Sure you do, Kelsey.”

“Aubrey, stop this!”

“Yes, the two of you can go. Please buy something on your way back home for dinner, okay? You can take the money.”

As Aubrey and Kel leave, Hero sits down. You should probably expect some sort of malice—

“Sunny, I need a cookbook.”

Right, a cookbook. Your mother has some. You go into her room, cut open a still-unpacked moving box where you expect the cookbooks to be and pull out the one that looks to be the oldest one. If it’s the oldest one, it should probably have the most proven and delicious recipes. This is how treasures work, right?

You drop the book next to Hero, and he starts flipping through it, letting you see how his smile disappears.

“Sunny, are you sure—”

You nod. There’s nothing bad in that cookbook, right? You don’t know, thankfully.

“Okay. Sunny, what do you want to pick?”

You flip through the book and gauge the recipes. There's a lot of jellos.

You tap a salad, a soup, a main dish and a desert, and with each tap you can see Hero die inside a little more.

“We’ll need ingredients.” Hero picks up a sheet of paper, and starts writing things down. "Sunny, I don't think this selection is… good. Do you have some other cookbooks?"

You nod.

"I'll think of some backup dishes." Hero adds a long line and jots down several more ingredients, presumably for whatever else the two of you will make. "Sunny, I can trust you to buy all this food, right? I need to lie down."

Chapter Text

You are walking through the shop’s stalls, looking for marshmallows.

You’re anxious about what Hero has to say. Is he still angry with you? Does he only pretend to be fine with all that happens? Aubrey blew up at you initially and the two of you are now fine, but why can’t Hero just pretend to be fine while actually not being fine?

Maybe you are trying to drive yourself into a panic over this when there’s nothing to worry about and Hero is genuinely okay with you, but, as it’s said, better safe than sorry.

You swipe strawberries and the canned pineapples into the shopping cart and resume your search for the marshmallows when your eye is caught by the cheese section.

Cheese is definitely on the ingredient list. Therefore, you need to buy it. And some more, just to be sure. And some onions, too.

Now, where was the parsley, again?

Wow, you’re bad at this. So far, the score is five to one in Aubrey’s favour.

You try to execute another perfect-frame input, but botch it and get locked down by a combo. Six to one.

“Do you want to try again?”

“No.”

“Are you upset that I’ve beaten you, Kel? Do you want to try to do better?”

You rest your hands on the controls, for a second.

“No, I’m fine. You’re better than me at this.”

“At least you admit it.”

You step back and look around yourself.

“Aubrey, how about the dance machine—”

“You already lost that one.”

“Shooter?”

“You lost that one too.”

“What about Tron?”

“You said you won’t play stuff Sunny didn’t.”

You remember something important.

“We should probably tell Hero about what happened.”

“What exactly do you want to tell him about, Kel? Sunny’s father? The muggers? The dreams?”

“Probably the dreams.”

“I think that can wait until tomorrow.”

You put the ingredients on the living room’s table, and poke Hero, who’s lying on the couch with his eyes closed.

“Oh, you’re back.”

He must have been napping.

You tell him that you’ve bought everything from the list, and he sighs in relief.

“Sunny, I am going to make the food you picked from the list. It requires a lot of attention and skill, so I picked a few simple recipes for you to start out with instead. We’ll cook in parallel.”

This is great.

“You’ll start with steak.”

This is also great, but you’re sincere about it now.

“Leave the meat on the board, I’ll prepare it before we get to cooking.”

That’s right, you need to wash your hands. You open the bathroom door, wash your hands, wipe them dry and leave as you see Hero covering the piece of meat with salt.

“Do you think we should add some spices?”

You ask Hero what he means under that.

“Spices, like garlic or pepper.”

You suggest that you should add pepper, and he opens a counter to retrieve a small pouch.

“Sprinkle pepper over the steak. Don’t add too much.”

Hopefully, you don’t add too much.

“Now we need to preheat the pan and cover it with oil. Where’s the oil?”

You ask Hero if he means the vegetable oil and not the machine oil, and he nods. You flip the bottle and let the oil pour out—

“Okay, that’s enough.” Hero stops you as you’ve let out roughly a tablespoon of oil. “Any more and it’s going to get nasty. Now, we wait.”

He pulls a mold out, and starts stirring some sort of a mixture in a bowl.

“You can probably wash the vegetables for now, while the pan is heating up, right?”

Fine, washing vegetables it is.

You flip the steak with a spatula, and get back to cutting the cucumbers for the salad.

“You should keep an eye on the steak, but I can do it for you, for now.”

That’s good. You probably shouldn’t split your attention and cut your fingers off in the process.

Hero mixes the ground and soon-to-be-molten cheese into whatever ghoulish recipe you’ve picked out for him and sighs. He doesn’t look happy making this.

You swipe cucumbers to the side, and start working on the radishes when Hero interrupts you.

“Now you need to take the steak off. Turn the heat off and take it away with the tongs.”

You point out that Hero used a spatula to flip it.

“I prefer the spatula, but you should probably use tongs for now.”

You mix the whipped cream into another salad bowl and tell Hero that once it’s mixed, it’ll be done.

“Cool. Now, can you watch the potatoes? Take them off the stove in twenty minutes and by that, I mean turning off the stove and taking the pot off it. Do you get it?”

You nod and tell him that you get it, taking off the stove in twenty minutes.

“Good! After that, rinse them with cold water and mash them with a spoon. I’ve left it here in the sink. Please don’t burn your flat down while I’m away, Sunny, okay?”

You nod as Hero leaves, and sit down.

There’s something you should probably do, now that you have nothing to do.

You’re walking back to Sunny’s flat, alone. Kel got a message from Hero to help him, and left on the spot. You have a few minutes to kill, now.

There’s a bench you can sit down at, so you do. You need a minute to think about what you want.

You can’t keep living like this. Your mother is supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.

You could probably move in with your father, but you don’t want to do anything with him yet after he abandoned you to your mother for these three years.

You could crash at someone’s place, maybe? Either of Kim’s parents probably wouldn’t have that much of a problem with you, you hope. You’re not sure about Charlene, but you don’t want to be anywhere next to her older brother. Finally, Kel’s family is probably an option, but you want to keep some distance from Kel and last time you checked you’d have to occupy Hero’s place.

Or you could move in with Sunny and his mother, but you don’t think you’ll be able to talk the latter into this, and you’re not sure whether you want to live in close proximity of someone who slashed you with a knife, even if he’s very sorry about it, cute and cuddly and you don’t actually think he’ll do it again.

Speaking of being worried about him, Kel just left to do something with Hero and, therefore, Sunny’s been left alone.

He’s going to burn down his flat.

Chapter Text

Aubrey knocks on the entry door right as you take the potatoes off the stove, after turning the fire off. Just like Hero told you.

"Sunny, I'm back! Let me in! "

You've expected her a bit later, but here she is, either way, bursting in as you open the door.

"Did Hero leave you alone with the oven? Doesn't he understand how irresponsible it is of him?"

You tell Aubrey that you've turned it off, too, and she exhales in relief.

"Hey, that smells delicious. Potatoes?"

You nod. Peeling them was a chore. Boiling, less so. You still need to mash them.

"I'm proud of you, Sunny," she smiles as she tilts her head up, just a bit, and plants a tiny smooch on your forehead, "You now won't die of hunger if your mother stops taking care of you. Assuming you have the money to buy potatoes."

You're split between a tinge of guilt that Aubrey's mom probably stopped cooking food for her a while ago, and a tinge of a desire to be kissed on the lips instead. Or maybe you just want to kiss this very cool girl you're in love with.

What are you thinking about, again? Love? Ridiculous. There's no way she would fall in love with someone like you. She probably views you as a clingy burden she just has to protect and take care of.

"Hello? Sunny? Are you still there? What is this abomination?"

Oh god she's found the cheese soup.

"Sunny, what the hell is wrong with you? People didn't eat this because they had better options in the 50's."

You momentarily consider blaming Hero, but remember that he would never willingly do this to you, or her, or his brother, or anyone really.

You confess to your culinary crimes. Guilty as charged.

“You roped Hero into cooking this thing for you?”

You confirm her suspicions and sit down as she closes the bathroom’s door behind herself.

The notion of making antiquated food which is apparently cursed no longer seems like a funny idea to you. You absolutely shouldn’t have done that.

You start mashing potatoes, and hear the TV turning on. Sounds like an action movie you’ll probably watch once you’re done with the food.

Wait, if you’re celebrating Aubrey’s birthday, there must be a cake. Hero’s probably out there, buying one.

You cover the mashed potato bowl with a plate and get over to the couch, where Aubrey’s watching the TV, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

You drop down next to her to silently join her. There’s a fight scene. It looks like something right out of your dreams, and notably different to an actual physical scuffle.

You just need to fade away, head on her shoulder, and dive deep. Aubrey doesn’t react to your display of affection; maybe she’s okay with it.

An hour or so later, Kel knocks on the door. All things come to an end. Time to open the door, again.

Kel is standing outside, with a large watermelon.

“You know this thing is heavy, right?”

You nod, and step aside as Kel lays the oversized berry onto the floor and rolls it to the kitchen, as Aubrey observes him, with a “what the hell are you doing” expression.

“Where’s your brother?”

“He’s occupied. Told me that he’ll be in a few minutes!” Kel sets the watermelon down, and opens the fridge. “Oh, hey, Aubrey, it’s your cake!”

She perks up and leaps from the couch, makes a dash towards the fridge and stares down whatever Kel deemed a cake.

“Thank god,” she exhales, “it’s a jello cake.” She sounds like she dodged a bullet.

The phone in your pocket buzzes, and you take it out. Wait, you’re still carrying these bloodied glasses around. You should probably put them somewhere, like a drawer in your room. Once that’s done, you may answer the message.

It’s Hero.

“Sunny, we’ve got something for Aubrey, so can you please make sure she doesn’t see it before its time?”

“yes”

“Please keep her away from the common room for a few moments. I’ll be there soon.”

“do you have the keys”

“Yes, your mother gave me a set, just in case.”

You’re not sure how to feel about Hero having the keys to your flat, but it’s probably fine, if only because your mom trusts Hero, so you should, too. Probably.

“ok”

You hear Aubrey and Kel talking about the oven, and walk over, catching them in the middle of a discussion about your culinary crimes. Your friends turn their heads as you enter and close the kitchen’s door.

“Uh—”

You assure Kel that it’s fine and ask him to move over to look at the jello cake. It’s decorated with strawberries and looks very delicious.

You can’t wait to bite into it. After Aubrey, of course. It’s meant for her, after all.

Outside, Hero opens the door, and you cough to make sure that Kel doesn’t spoil whatever’s happening.

You open the fridge and find a tub of ice cream inside, left by your mother, and ask your friends if they want some as Hero’s carrying something heavy.

“That can wait.”

“Yes, I’ll eat it after whatever awful food you’ve prepared.”

You don’t take it personally.

“Happy belated birthday, Aubrey.”

Kel and you are digging into the awful soup-like mess mostly composed of cheese.

“This...this is a lot.”

“Well, I thought you’d love something like this. Getting here by scooter was a mess, wasn’t it?”

“So we decided to get you a bike,” Kel chimes in, “so that you wouldn’t have to take ours over.”

“Kel.”

You lift your head, tilt it in Hero’s direction and nod.

“Everything we’ve said in Sunny’s backyard still stands. We want you to stick around with us, no matter what happens, and we want you to have the means to.”

“Thank you.” She stands up and leans the bike against the wall. “I’m not planning on staying with my father, but, uh, Sunny, what were you thinking when you bought the drum set? You know that thing is cumbersome, right?”

You mutter that he considered asking his mother to get it to Faraway after she returns, and Aubrey nods, slightly annoyed, as Kel retreats to the kitchen.

“Cool. Are we going to eat the watermelon?”

“I’ll crack it open!”

“Kel, don’t—”

Kel, however, is already rolling the green sphere to the table.

You need to stop him and get it onto the table, so you ask him to do so.

“Sure, sure.”

Time to crack this delightful thing open. You need a knife — there is one on the table. You pick it up, and carefully touch the tip as you notice Hero to tense up.

Don’t be afraid.

You line up the stab and pierce the rind, sinking the knife to its handle, and press down to create a slit. Next, you pull the knife out, reach into the slit with your fingers and pull to rend it in half, revealing the soft, juicy, delightful gore.

The soft, juicy, delightful flesh. You meant flesh.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

It’s late. The strawberry jello cake — fitted with the symmetrical array of candles — is long gone, and so is the watermelon. Aubrey is talking with someone over the phone; judging from what she’s saying, it’s probably Kim. Hero and Kel are watching another movie.

You’re bored, and the movie doesn’t appeal to you.

There are some things that you could consider doing. Most of these would require a sleeping pill, because you don’t feel like you could fall asleep right now, even if your body says otherwise.

Chapter Text

It’s cold.

You’re not in your sanctuary.

Wherever you are, it’s heavily snowing.

You’re alone on the blanket, as you couldn’t have expected. You thought Mari or Basil would be around, as expected of things you can’t let go of now even though you’ve been around your friends.

Where are you, again? Judging from the penguins, it’s probably the Snowglobe Mountain and you were en route to Captain Spaceboy’s final dwelling place.

There’s a Pluto’s for you to take, but you don’t think it will get you to your goal faster. You’re here to bring him back.

You can’t do it alone, now that you think of it? You can’t hope to defeat an experienced space pirate captain all on your lonesome, even though you’ve grown stronger, not to mention that you really don’t want to mistreat your violin further and you have no other weapons with you.

You’ll have to talk to him.

You’re at the peak.

Your objective is sitting down in the snow. You’re uncomfortable on the mountain with such light clothes; maybe whatever species he is are more resilient to the cold.

He raises his head and meets your eyes. There’s something familiar in that gaze, something you can’t quite pin down.

“Ah, it’s you? Mourning the loss of the love of your life? Come, now, and join me.”

You approach the divorcee. He’s not as tall as you remember. If anything, he’s just...Hero’s height?

Your mind jumps to the comparison. He’s definitely not similar to Hero, though. If anything, he’s just like you, holed up and waiting for someone to pull him out.

You sit down and stare into the distance. Moments pass.

“I haven’t seen anyone else here for a long time. What do you seek here, Omori?”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“I’m looking for Pinkbeard’s son.”

The captain’s expression doesn’t change. “Ah. He didn’t tell you, did he? I’m his son, and I’m not coming back. I don’t need to. I have all I need here, on the top of the mountain.” You don’t respond, only stare into the sky as Spaceboy continues his monologue. “Can’t you see it? She ripped my heart out.” He moves his cloak to the side, and you peek at the bleeding hole in his chest. “If the only reason you’re here is to convince me to go back, leave, before I throw you off the mountain.”

You don’t respond.

“So who do you miss? That perky girl with the bow?”

You don’t miss Aubrey. She’s still somewhere out there, and she’ll be right there once you wake up. You don’t miss her, because you never lost her.

There is, however, a person you miss.

“I killed my sister.”

It’s just an admission of what you’ve done — an admission you’ve already made several times to people you trust — but each time you speak those words, it feels like you’re coughing them out through a throat stapled and sewed shut, tearing you apart, making you feel like you should bleed.

“I never meant to do that. It was an accident. I loved her and I killed her.”

Captain Spaceboy doesn’t move. You’re not sure he’s heard you, until he breaks his silence.

“I never had a sister, Omori.”

“It’s Sunny.”

“Sorry.” He looks at you, as if trying to remember something. “I understand. It’s not pleasant with a name that is not your own. You just remind me of a boy by that name.”

“That was me.”

“Oh? So you’re a girl?”

“I’m a boy.”

“Oh. You’ve left that name behind, right? Did something else break your heart, again?”

“I moved on.”

Moments pass. You stare off. The sunset would have been awesome, if sunsets could happen at all in this dream wasteland.

“How could you?”

How could you move on from what you’ve done? Is it because you’ve believed that it’s something forgivable?

Or because you know that what happened doesn’t have to define you? Because you knew that the only way you could live with that was to move on and accept what you’ve done?

“I wanted to live.”

Four years.

“I understand.”

The wind is still cold and biting. Your skin aches. You’d have to turn into ice if you want to stay here much longer.

“You’re going to freeze, Sunny.”

“I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t even be here.”

You don’t respond. It’s not as if you’re going to freeze to death. It’s only a dream.

It’s only a dream.

“Are you waiting for your friends to find you, here?”

“Are you?”

He looks at you, and sighs.

“They won’t. They’ve already come again and again. There’s nothing they can do.”

“I opened the door.”

“You’re saying that I can just leave the mountain, return to my crew, and it will stop hurting?”

It never does.

“So it still hurts?”

You see him crack a sad smile.

“Yes. I can’t run away from the pain. And neither can you, Sunny. So why should I leave, then? So I could suffer more?”

“I don’t want you to suffer more.”

“Why, kid? You have no reason to care about that.”

“You remind me of yourself.”

The captain chuckles at your response. It’s so cold. He’s thinking something over, and you wonder whether your words reached the place where his heart used to be.

“You’re right. And you’re freezing. I should take you home, if only because you’ll die if you stay here.”

He stands up, pulls a weird remote out of his pocket and clicks a button. Far away, a tiny saucer surfaces from the snow and floats towards you.

“Get in, Sunny. Where is your home?”

Chapter Text

You’re soaring far above the ground, sitting next to Captain Spaceboy in his backup spaceship.

This is the coolest thing you’ve ever dreamed up.

You try to touch the controls, and are rebuked over “nearly turning off the ignition and crushing the damn saucer”.

Well, maybe this is merely one of the coolest things you’ve ever dreamed up.

You take another sip of whatever hot liquid is inside the thermos, and feel the warmth spread through your body.

“How old are you, again?”

“Sixteen.”

“And how old were you when we fought back at my home?”

“Twelve.”

“Time flies, huh.”

Spaceboy pulls on the steering wheel, and the saucer takes off into the empty space. The snow plains are left behind.

You stare off into the vacuum of space. Somewhere there is your home.

“This changes nothing.”

“What?”

“I’m not going back to Sweetheart. I don’t want to do anything with her. I’m done being beaten and insulted.”

“I never said I want you to come back to her.”

“She tried to lock me up!”

“Do you mean the telescope room in the dungeon?”

“Yes! Wait, how do you know about it?”

“I was in that dungeon before. Several times. Too many, even.”

“Are these the skeletons of you and your friends, then? I recognize the ribbon.”

“Yes.”

You’ve been spinning in cycles.

“How’s your girl, anyway?”

You don’t know what to say.

“Take this. Make her happy. I won’t need this anymore.”

You snatch the pale gleam out of the air and pocket it. You won’t need it for a while, either way.

“She tried to clone herself to replace you.”

“What?”

“She ordered clones from the sea witches. Scientists. Sea scientists.”

“Oh, I hope she’ll love them.” The captain grins. “The only one who can match her venom is a clone of hers.”

You briefly consider that Perfectheart would, most likely, be more tolerable, but he has trauma of his own and you shouldn’t dredge it up yet.

“And what’s the deal with the other two kids? They’re brothers, right?”

“Yes. Brothers and good friends of mine.”

Spaceboy takes a swig out of his own thermos — one he doesn’t let you near — and exhales.

“Do you have parents, kid?”

“I have a mother.”

“What about your father?”

“He left.”

“Ah. Take care of your mother, Sunny. You never know when they’re gone.”

There isn’t a reason to be worried about her, though? You don’t see any. Besides, if this is a dream and it’s all happening in your head, it’s just a piece of your imagination telling yourself to do that, not that you don’t already know that.

“What happened to your mother?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You shouldn’t talk about it.

You’re approaching the Otherworld. Spaceboy presses down the steering wheel, and the saucer dives “down”, towards Vast Forest.

“Do you have a place to land?”

“The playground should be empty.”

“Noted.”

The saucer touches down, and Captain Spaceboy opens the airstair. You descend.

“Goodbye, Captain Spaceboy.”

He looks at you, contemplating something, and nods.

“Godspeed, Sunny.”

The saucer takes off, directly to the Otherworld up above. Your home is waiting for you, now.

There is no fridge, but there should be one. You retrieve a fridge from the southern wall, and it starts humming.

Mewo wakes up and opens her eyes, before letting loose a loud meow, demanding attention and probably food. You open the fridge, and your cat walks over before rubbing against your legs with her head. She’s probably hungry, just like you.

You find a chicken breast and decide to feed Mewo with chicken. You don’t have a counter or literally anything to make food, and you still have a lot of place next to the fridge.

You add a counter with drawers, a sink, two more counters and a table. You should probably add a bathroom, too! You’ve never thought about how you’ve never needed one while asleep, but you’d hate it to need it but not have it.

You also put a couch down next to the carpet, and a pair of soft armchairs. Perfection.

You need to grab something, like a slice of pizza, to eat, lie down onto the couch and relax for a while. Maybe experience a warm bath, although you’re not sure how much you want to fall asleep in a bath under this feeling of gravity.

Captain Spaceboy’s wedding ring is still in your pocket. You take it out and examine it, letting the soft yellow light of the artificial Sun be caught and refracted by the diamond’s facets.

You’ve seen this ring in real life, but you can’t remember where. Did someone you know owe it?

You’ll answer this question later. For now, next to the bloodied glasses it goes.

You try to remember what exercises you’re supposed to do to help out your body, and try to stretch yourself a bit, probably correctly.

Mewo leaps onto the counter and loudly meows to draw your attention.

You look at her, and she meows again. Can’t she just come over?

You stand up and wash your arms —

Wait, right, you forgot to leave Mewo a water bowl. She’s probably very thirsty.

You leave the water bowl, and she starts drinking, emptying the bowl in seconds.

Wait, right, you also need a litter box. God, why is taking care of cats so difficult? Can’t they just exist without all the necessities, like pet rocks?

Well, she isn’t a pet rock, and therefore, she needs the feline necessities like the bowls and the litter box.

You scratch under her chin and she purrs, delighted by her attention.

You take one last look at your now-livable room, turn the lights off and lie down onto the couch.

A few minutes after that, you hear a soft click of the locked door. Someone’s broken into your sanctuary. You should probably be wary about the intruder, as they close the door behind themselves.

Mewo doesn’t react. Wherever she is, she’s asleep. The lights are out, and you have no idea who the intruder is.

You silently slide down, and summon the violin bow to your arm. The intruder, a bit taller than you, is carrying a big stick as a weapon.

You really don’t want to deal with that, so you swing at them.

They block the swing and back away, shocked, as you advance and swing two more times; neither of your attacks hits.

The intruder throws a light switch, and you catch yourself as you’re about to swing at Aubrey for the fourth time.

“What the hell?”

Well, this is awkward. More awkward than most of the situations you could expect.

You tell her she broke into your room, and her face grows a little more red.

“I-I was worried for you, Sunny. You disappeared, and we spent hours looking for you, until Mari told me to just wait for you outside, but you never came out, and this door is always locked, so—” Aubrey interrupts herself and looks around. “—Hey, this is quite a good room. You’ve been living like this for four years?”

You tell her that this room was devoid of everything until this week.

“Wow. That’s messed up.”

You nod. You have no idea how the hell did Omori live in this void. Maybe he was fine with that, but you have no desire to dwell in that killing misery anymore.

Chapter Text

You clink the seltzer glass against Aubrey’s, and she chuckles.

“To us.”

Adults usually drink champagne, but you don’t want to do anything with alcohol and seltzer looks like a suitable sparkling replacement.

Tastes the same, probably.

You bite down onto a sandwich and chew. It reminds you of your mom’s. You’re not sure if you got the ingredients correctly, though. Tastes a little off.

You ask Aubrey if she likes the sandwiches.

“A little too spicy, but yeah, you’re good here,” she nods as she finishes hers, “although it’s more palatable than what you made us eat.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

The violin bow is resting against the table, next to Aubrey’s bat. Mewo is sitting on the counter, watching, waiting for something to happen.

“This is Mewo, right?”

“Yes. Or my memory of Mewo. She’s just sitting there.”

“What happened to the real one? You never told us.”

You don’t want to think about what happened to Mewo, and you’d rather not talk about that either.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She has a rabbit. How long do rabbits live, anyway? Not longer than most cats, you think. You don’t really know what to do now that you’re done with the food. Aubrey rests her head on a fist, watching you.

Quickly, think of something to say before she gets bored and leaves.

“You’re cute.”

“Anything else you’d like to tell me, sunshine?”

“You’re—”

Wait, what did she call you? Sunshine? Is that an affectionate pet name? What are you supposed to doooooooooo?

You mumble something meaningless and incomprehensible and choke down on your own words as blood fills your entire face.

You never had a plan for a date with Aubrey going this far, and even if you did, whatever scraps of the plan remained in your head have been ground into red paste your face just got painted with. Someone, please, help. You’d take help from wherever it’d come at this point.

You already screwed it up. God why are you such a fool.

You need to calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Bat the doubts away and concentrate on what you want, what you need to say before you completely melt down like a vanilla ice cream in front of your crush.

You touch your face; it’s hot from your blood.

"You always care a lot. About me, about your friends, about," you want to say Mari's name, but you can't, "about everyone. You didn't want to show it, but you did care about us."

“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot.”

“You’re also a very strong person. If I were you, I’d give up long ago.”

“Yeah.”

Aubrey doesn’t look really enthusiastic about what you’ve just said. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t really want to be commended for surviving in such conditions. Maybe because you did give up long ago.

She stands up and moves over to the couch, burying her face in cupped palms. You, too, leave the table and sit down next to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You’re dragged into a warm hug. Aubrey isn’t crying, but if she was, you’d understand. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s not as if anything needs to be said.

The door opens — just a bit — and you notice Mari peeking in. She puts a finger to her lips, and you give her a tiny nod as she sneaks along the wall.

Whatever she’s taking from your drawers, it’s not your business. You’re already occupied.

To think of this, you have barely shown any affection to Headspace Aubrey over the four years, even though her crush on you was self-evident. You wanted her to love you so much, yet you never believed yourself to be worthy.

And now here you are, in the warm embrace of the real one who saved your life not so long ago. Maybe you are worthy of her grace, no matter how much you may want to try and convince yourself that it’s a lie.

You still hate yourself, and that hatred poisons every aspect of how you see others’ concern of you. A burden, a guilt, a murderer — all these are epithets you’ve given yourself because this is what you want to believe yourself to be. You’ve spent four years believing you cannot be anything, or anyone, else.

You’re thankful that Kel persisted and was there for you when it mattered, and you’re also thankful that right now, he’s not here.

Mari puts something in her dress’ pocket, and starts sneaking towards the door. You’re not sure if her dress even has a pocket, but it would have been very inconvenient if she didn’t. She stops for a second, looks you in the eye, and winks.

Go ahead, tell Aubrey that you love her. Don’t worry. I know it’s hard to do.

Seconds later, your sister’s ghost touches the door.

“I love you.”

You look up, into Aubrey’s blue eyes. You remember that she’s wearing contacts, but who cares?

One, two, three.

“I love you too, Sunny.”

You try to convince yourself that she isn’t being sincere, but fail. She doesn’t sound like she’s sarcastic, or otherwise trying to trick you, and the soft, slow kiss that follows does nothing to confirm your fears.

You push the door open, violin in a case on your back, rolling pin in a pocket. Aubrey follows you through the door, biting a piece out of an apple stolen from your fridge. Taken. Not stolen.

The door in the left wall beckons. Now’s not the time, door.

“Where’s everyone?”

You tell Aubrey that Mari’s probably somewhere nearby, and suggest checking out the pier.

You find your sister there, next to Hero, sitting down and watching the horizon.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Hero. We had such a good time being friends. We made cookies together, played sports, read comics…”

Mari trails off, and lets her head fall on Hero’s shoulder. He’ll probably wake up a sobbing mess.

“I wish it didn’t happen. I cried myself to sleep every night for a year. I couldn’t live like that.”

“Nobody can live like that, only dwelling on the past. Can you even call it life?”

You are sure you can’t.

“Mari, I—”

“I understand. There’s so much we could have had together.” You notice a pale gleam in her arms behind her back, and avert your eyes. You don’t want to think about it. “And there’s so much that you won’t have if you don’t accept the past as the past. I want you to be happy, Hero.”

“I don’t know if I can move on.”

“I hope you can.”

Chapter Text

“Kel!”

“Guess who got lucky!”

“Kel, is that one million clams? What the hell?”

“I just told you I got lucky!”

You point out that Kel loves gambling, especially with money he doesn’t actually owe, and he rolls his eyes.

“We can pay off the sea witches! We can go tackle Humphrey!”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“I don’t know! We were looking for something, right?”

You tell them that you were just showing everyone around.

Now that you think of the objective you’ve laid out for yourself, inviting your friends to the belly of the whale doesn’t seem like a great idea, especially given how it’s already eaten you countless times.

Hopefully it won’t do it again seeing as Kel’s bled Last Resort (and, by extension, its new owner — his brother) dry, you have all the clams to feed the hungry, hungrey Humphrey.

“Sunny, is Humphrey the whale from the children’s book?”

You’re embarrassed to admit that yes, it is that whale, and it’s been the oldest creature amongst your three first imaginary friends.

“Compared to who?”

You remember the cat structure, lounging above the Neighbours’ Room, and the whale. Whoever the third one was, it evades you.

A tentacle pokes out of the ground, beckoning. You sit down and poke it.

“I...don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. I feel like I should be angry with you for not telling us about this, but — I understand.”

You blink as you remove your hand from the tentacle. You’ve seen such tentacles before; wherever these reach from, it must be below this already sunken place.

You wish you had a shady character to get you there, because it doesn’t feel like a place that could be gotten to with the help of a non-shady character.

“Hey kids, are you interested in a trip to a very curious place?”

And of course you got startled by such a shady character.

You tell him that you’ll gladly accept his offer later on, and leave.

Sunny is walking next to you, unnerved by whatever happened when he touched the tentacle.

“Is something wrong?”

He tells you that when he touched the tentacle, he remembered your reaction to what you’ve said to him.

“I don’t think you should worry too much about this.”

You’re probably dreaming about Sunny trying to deal with how you’re fine with him.

Tick-tock. Somewhere else, a clock’s hands slide along the face.

You reach into your pockets and offer him a pack of biscuits. He asks you if you have cookies you’ve made.

“Sorry, I only have these. You could use some cookies to cheer you up, right? They’re not the best, but they’re something.”

He smiles and opens the pack.

“Once we’re there, we can make some cookies.”

Kel pours the clams into the water, and Humphrey gobbles them up.

The whale looks at you, clearly in pain.

“What have you fed to me?”

You tell him it’s clams.

“What have you fed to me?”

You again tell him it’s clams, and Hero taps your shoulder.

“Sunny, I think it’s not about the clams.”

“All I can taste is molten watermelons and cold, juicy cheese. What have you done to me, Dreamer? Tell me, please.”

Oh.

You crouch down and ask Humphrey to let you in.

“Are you looking for our witches, or someone specific? Are you belligerent, or are you pacific?”

This is an awful rhyme and you’re sorry for making him suffer.

“You’re back, Omori.”

“My name is Sunny.”

“This doesn’t matter to me much, Sunny. You’ve fed the whale that almost ate your friends and narrowly escaped with your life. You might have been looking for your friend, but I see him in your group. What could you want from us, again?”

You look at Basil’s echo, lying down on the blanket next to the picnic basket and whistling a merry tune.

You tell her that you’re just showing your friends around.

“And you’re not afraid of running into her, are you?”

“Who are you talking about—”

Oh, shit, Sweetheart is probably here. Nevertheless, you’re pretty sure you can take her.

“You think you can take me, peasants?”

“Who are you calling peasants?”

“You, fools! Prepare to—”

You notice Mari wind up a pitch, and one second later, Sweetheart is clutching at her face.

“YOU! YOU STOLE HIM FROM ME! YOU—”

“Mari, she’s—”

“Hero, dear, can you please step back? And Aubrey, can I borrow this—”

Sweetheart swings her flail at Mari, who bats away the head at the last possible moment and punches the donut, knocking her off-balance.

You should probably be worried for Mari.

Sweetheart brings her weapon down again, and is effortlessly parried as Mari brings the bat down on the princess’ arm, making her drop the weapon.

She makes a dash for you, and you narrowly dodge. You should probably be more worried for yourself than for your sister.

A piano chord echoes through the room, striking fear into you. Your opponent gasps and falls down on her rear, as Mari approaches her.

“Don’t you even think about this, Sweetheart. Don’t touch Hero. Don’t touch my brother. Don’t even think about raising your hand against me or mine. Understood?”

You sneak a glance at Mari’s face, and notice the bone-chilling stare. It’s not meant for you, but you can’t help but feel weaker, as if you’re twelve again and the world’s all against you.

You absolutely shouldn’t be worried for Mari.

She notices you’re looking, and smiles.

“Are you alright, Sunny?”

You nod.

“Please don’t be worried for me! She’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You look at sobbing Sweetheart, still too terrified to move, and briefly ponder how she wouldn’t be where she is if she didn’t bring ruin to everyone she’s met.

You gently lift Aubrey’s unconscious body from the floor and shove a piece of jam-covered toast into her mouth. She doesn’t chew, so you carefully press her jaw shut and pull it open once, twice, thrice and she’s chewing on her own, coming back to her senses and life.

“Augh.”

You ask her if she’s alright.

“This sucks. My entire body hurts so much.”

You agree that this sucks, and shove a piece of jammed toast into Hero’s mouth while Aubrey does the same with Kel.

“Do you want to try again, kids?”

Yeah, sure, you’ll get back to it, just let the four of you heal up for the sixth or so time.

Mari offers you a refreshing brownie, and the four of you that are actually asleep share it between yourself.

“Mari, can you please help us with this?”

“Hero, that wouldn’t be fair to her!”

“You are correct, Mari! Your friends are of just the right strength for me to be a hard challenge to them, but if you outright help them out, it would be a walk in the park.”

You should change strategy again. As the least physically fit member of the party, you shouldn’t even be swinging your bow out there in the front.

You didn’t pack this violin for it to be a decoration on your back.

You lift the bow, and decide to play a support role.

Your opponent’s glow and smile fade.

You can barely stand. You wish you didn’t do this.

“A spectacular performance, Sunny.”

Perfectheart lifts her arms again, and starts applauding. Mari and Basil join in, shortly followed by Aubrey, Hero and then Kel.

You don’t know how to feel about this.

Mari leans down to Kel and stuffs a cookie into his mouth, and he stands up.

“What the hell was that?”

“A fair battle between the most perfect clone of our dear Sweetheart this world could offer,” Perfectheart does a small curtsy, smiling as she bows down, “and the four of you, as real as you could be.”

When what you believe to be perfect meets reality’s expectations, it’s rare that reality is the side of conflict to bow down.

You sit down at the piano, the score in front of you.

The room is dark. There’s only you and Mari, asleep amongst the flowers.

You expect her to leap up and startle you, for the image that tormented you in your nightmares to resurface, for some other horror to reawaken or be spun from nothing.

Instead, it’s only you, the heavy feeling weighing down on you, your sister, and the eulogy wailed in black and white keys.

When it is over, you pick up the third score. You don’t recognize the common themes with the previous ones; maybe there are some, maybe there are none.

You know what lays beyond.

You shall not descend until the time comes.

Chapter Text

You’re awake.

God damn it you wish you weren’t.

Your brother’s asleep. Sunny is also asleep in his room. Aubrey, also asleep, isn’t where you’ve expected her to be.

You sit down in the kitchen, and pour yourself a cup of water. You need water. You need to calm down.

It hurts you to breathe. You wish you could move on, but you just can’t.

You wipe your tears, and take a gulp of cold, throat-numbing water. Perhaps pain will distract you from your anguish.

You clutch onto a tissue, and oh hey thank you Sunny.

He asks you if you need something else, and you don’t, can’t respond. There are things you need to talk about, things you don’t want to talk about.

Sunny sits down next to you, thinking about something. Should you be worried? He does have insomnia, but as far as you know he takes medicine for that.

What about these dreams, either way? Why do they feel so material? You’re not a lucid dreamer, you’re pretty sure.

“It was real.”

“What are you talking about?” Did he see your dream? He was there, but you’re sure that this isn’t how dreams work. “Did you—”

“You were sitting on the pier, next to Mari, and crying on her shoulder, as she begged you to move on. Is this what you’ve seen?” You nod, and he continues. “Everyone else was there, too. I don’t know what to say about this. I just used to dream about us all going on an adventure, and then, after I came back to Faraway, I found the real Aubrey there, sharing my dreams. Maybe you just got dragged in, too.”

That doesn’t explain it, but it does explain it.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Sunny shrugs and takes an apple out of the fridge. “Maybe there’s some sort of a connection between us all.”

“And—”

“It’s her.”

She’s still around?

“She was playing piano, back then in Faraway, when you walked in. I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe she’s a ghost, maybe...”

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You wish you lied. “Sunny, you’re unwell. It was a shared hallucination due to grief—”

“Say what you want, Hero. She’s never left my side—”

“She’s gone! She’s been dead for four years, Sunny, and—”

You catch yourself. You can’t continue. All you can feel is pain, because your charge keeps ripping at the hole in your heart, and you can’t feel angry at him because, deep down, there’s a chime that makes you question yourself.

“She was right, Hero. You need to move on.”

You can feel something inside of you snap as you lash out and scream at him. He doesn’t respond, only listening. In your blind anger, you’re not even sure he is.

A few minutes pass. Sunny’s still looking at you with a bored, neutral expression as you feel burning out, running out of words to say. He doesn’t even defend himself.

Somehow, this is even more insulting.

You’re breathing deeply when he stands up and asks you if you’re done venting, and you nod.

“Did it help?”

You nod again, seizing up. You hate this.

He opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of juice, and asks you if you’re really so sincere about hating him.

Wait, no. You fucked up about this, again, just like with Kel.

“Listen, if you don’t want to be my friend after this anymore, I understand, I just—”

He shakes his head and asks you if you still want to be his friend.

You don’t know the answer, either, because you don’t want to admit he’s right. Not because you’re angry, but because it still hurts so much.

You should show concern for Sunny, if only because this is what Mari would have done in your place.

Someone pushes the door open. It’s Aubrey, half-asleep, messy hair covering her face.

“Why are you yelling? You woke me up.”

Sunny doesn’t respond. Looks like the burden is going to fall on you.

“We had an argument about Mari.”

“Oh. Yeah. You were all miserable when you were asleep. Can that please wait until tomorrow? I’m sleepy.”

It’s a pleasant Saturday morning and you’re waking up for the second time, and for the second time you’re trying to wiggle your way out of your little spoon designation without waking her up.

You don’t remember what you’ve seen after you decided to go back to sleep after Aubrey showed up to break up your arguments with Hero. Something irrelevant, probably.

As evidenced by the fact that the hug you’re in tightens, you utterly fail.

“Good morning, Sunny!”

“Good morning.” You rotate yourself to face your beloved friend, who once again decided to take advantage of your sheer huggability.

Given your touch starvation, you’re pretty fine with that. Only this time, though. You want to be warned in advance if that ever happens again, not that you would be.

You need to get out of the bed, and you announce your desire to Aubrey.

“Yeah, just five more minutes—”

You tell her that she already spent almost the entire night cuddling with you.

“It’s not the same when you’re asleep.”

She’s right. You should probably hug her back, if only for the feeling of holding someone. Not to mention that she’ll probably love this.

You carefully slip your arm under her torso and wrap her into a hug, nuzzling against her neck.

This feeling of being cherished will probably go into your favourite memories, next to the one where you didn’t fall asleep on her shoulder.

The door swings open, letting in a delicious smell of bacon.

“Wake up, lovebirds!”

You’re going to kill Kel.

Aubrey springs to action first, tearing free from your hug rising up and hurling the pillow at the intruder, who only barely manages to block the projectile. You follow suit, rolling down onto the floor mattress, standing on your feet and snatching your pillow from the floor before bringing it down onto Kel’s head.

The pillow is, predictably, done with your mistreatment of it and rips in half, showering your friend with feathers. Whoops.

“Stop it.” You lift your eyes and notice Hero at the table, stirring some sort of a drink. “You know these cost money, right?”

He’s no fun.

“Your breakfast is also ready, if you’re hungry. You should probably be.”

The three of you are escorting Hero to a bus stop.

Sunny is the first to break the awkward silence.

“Hero, do you want to talk about what happened at night?"

“Yes.”

“What happened at night?”

“We had an argument.”

Hero sits down as you finally arrive, and takes a deep breath.

“Sunny, I hope you understand. I don’t know how I can deal with this, but—” He takes a gulp of air. “—you’re correct. I need to think about this more. The three of you all need me, I’m your friend, and I need to be responsible for what happens next.”

Sunny says he’s glad to hear this.

“I can’t shackle myself to my past and ruminate on it. It didn’t do anything good to Sunny, and it won’t do anything good to me if I continue to fixate on the past. Kel.” You perk up. “I need to thank you for irritating me, back then.”

You didn’t expect this, but you’ll take this.

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be stuck like Sunny was until you dragged him outside. Now that I think of it, Kel's done a lot for the two of us. I couldn't ask for a better brother, even if he's too annoying, sometimes."

"Hey, Hero, you're the better brother between the two of us!"

Sunny leans against a pole and mutters that he thinks both of you are the best.

"Thank you."

You take a peek at Aubrey. She's waiting for you to say something.

"Get home soon, Hero. We'll miss you."

He smiles and pats your shoulder. "I'll miss you too."

"Yeah, yeah, we all care about you, but aren't you literally going to the same place as we are by b—" Sunny taps Aubrey's shoulder and whispers something into her ear, and she stutters. "—you know what, he's right. Sorry for being a dick to you."

Hero steps into the bus, and waves to you as it pulls away.

Time to go home.

Chapter Text

If only you knew what would’ve happened.

You’re terribly sorry about what you’ve done. You didn’t aim for him. You aimed for something else, something behind him, an eye in a tangled mess of hair.

Hair…

It was hair.

“It was hair! Polly, mmmph—”

Your mouth is filled with a pork cutlet. Apparently, your caretaker thinks you need to eat instead of worrying about things that are actually important.

“Shoosh. You need to rest, Basil.”

“Mmmm—”

You try to chew to regain your ability to speak, but your mouth is still full of fried meat.

“Sunny’s not leaving for a while. He’s awake and resting in his ward. You’ll have a week to talk it out.”

“Mmm.”

“Eat, Basil. You’re exhausted and need to recover.”

“Mmmmmph!”

“Stop that. You’re not doing okay.”

You should probably resign yourself to your fate and eat the damn cutlet. You’ll bring your objections up later.

You look around, and notice that something important is missing.

“The camera? I don’t know. It was already missing when I came.”

She said that Sunny, Kel and Hero all were here, and neither of them would actually take your camera.

Screw you, Aubrey. You can keep it if you need something from Mari so much.

“First: We got a new camera for you, Basil.”

Shame it doesn’t have the sentimental value Mari’s gift has.

“Second: We decided that it could be a good thing for you to talk to people more.”

To be honest, you don’t really feel like talking to other people.

“Nah, thanks.”

“I anticipated that,” continues Kel, “So I’m going to introduce you to everyone!”

Wow. No. Thanks.

Your resistance is all of the effort and none of the effect. Kel has dragged Sunny outside after him being sequestered for four years, and now he’s doing exactly the same for you.

Your house is swarmed by people you don’t really know, but have briefly met these days.

You’re not sure how you are supposed to talk to them. You don’t have anything in common with them, do you?

“Hey, you’re Basil, right?”

You look at the person talking to you. It’s a blue-haired girl you might have seen a few times in the past.

“What?”

“Well, we are your guests, and I wanted to talk to you about Sunny. He’s your best friend, right?”

Yeah, what of it?

“I made him a necklace when he was leaving!”

You make a mental U-turn alongside the physical one. Sunny’s friends should be your friends.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of!”

You’re not really okay with water, given your recent drowning experience, but you have faith in Kel (and Polly) being here for you, and your new acquaintance has a natural affinity for it.

“Well, I almost drowned a few weeks ago.”

“Ummm… yeah, we should get you some floaters.”

“Polly, did you get the floaters?”

“Of course.”

The floaters are wrapped around your arms, and you inflate them until they feel stuck relatively tight on your forearms. This should be safe.

You carefully slip down the pier, and are held afloat by the air. You feel like a child a few years late to the party.

Kel takes a running start and leaps over your head, bombdiving and covering you in splashed water. After that, Cris carefully leaps from the pear, parting water like a knife.

You’re surrounded by a person who is notably better than you at this, a person who is infinitely better than you at this, and the worried caretaker on the grass.

The water is cold, but it’s so hot that you enjoy the feeling. The honorary mermaid disappears under the water, in a way that would make you panic if you didn’t know she’s good at this, and re-emerges right behind you.

“The most important thing about learning how to swim,” Cris says, “is learning how to breathe. Repeat after me.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You nervously gaze at Kel, and he gives you a nod.

“Now, inhale, hold it and lower your head under the water for a few moments until you feel like you need to breathe more.”

This is scary! You’re sure that Kel will help you if you start having problems with this, though.

You open your eyes — the feeling is quite uncomfortable, and you can’t really see anything — and close them again. Time to raise your head, anyway.

“Ten seconds? Not bad for the first time.”

The three of you visit the lake daily; sometimes, another girl (you’re not sure, but you think her name is Mincy) shows up with a sketchbook. Kel incentivizes you to look at things she sketches.

Some of these mirror your photos.

“You’re good at these, Basil. I’m trying to get better at perspective and your photos provide a good reference.”

You appreciate the critique, but don’t really think her presence is in any way relevant to the fact that you’re here to learn how to swim.

“I think you should be more assertive, Basil.”

“Mmm?”

“Kel has a point, you know.” The artist is lying on the floor, chewing on a pencil and eyeing the lighting. “He told me that you’ve always given in whenever pressured. It could help you a lot if you didn’t.”

“Maybe, but—”

“You have a very gentle personality, but it could help you a lot if you didn’t cave in when pressured.”

You don’t really feel like being rude.

“You don’t have to be rude! You just need to know when to say no.”

Someone’s knocking on the door. You’d rather have Polly open it, but it might be important for you to respond to.

“Hello?”

It’s Kim.

“I—”

You try to make use of the lessons your friends are giving to you, and shut the door on Kim.

“Hey!”

You don’t feel even a tinge of regret. You enjoy the fact that you just shut the door on Kim. You should probably feel bad, but, if anything, you’re entitled to the sheer joy of having control over the situation.

“Slamming the door in my face is rude!”

“So was bullying me for several years!”

“I didn’t know you didn’t ruin the album!” Aubrey told her, huh. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for treating you like shit for so long. It just wasn’t fair of me.”

You open the door again and look at the delinquent again. Her expression still shows her immensely puzzled by the fact that you’re not letting her walk all over you.

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“It’s really not you. When did you start being so assertive?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Why?”

“I was told to try that out and I am enjoying it as of now.” And you are. You’re subject to others’ whims no longer.

“Can I ask you with some help regarding Aub—”

You close the door on Kim again and return to your room as she explodes.

You should try being like this more.

Chapter Text

You break next to Aubrey’s house. It took you forever to get here. It’s quite late in the afternoon, although the sun is still far away from the tree-hidden horizon.

You’re hungry and need a better place to eat than this wasteland of a house.

Aubrey hops off her bike and frantically unlocks the door, before running inside. You should wait for her outside.

“What’s it with her?”

Kel should probably remember that Aubrey has a rabbit she’s supposed to take care of. A minute or two later, she re-emerges from darkness.

“Bun-bun is fine. I need to talk to Kim, either way.”

“Can’t you do it via the phone?”

“I want to check in with my friend, Kelsey. See you!"

You nod to her, and she leaves.

"Um...you know, Sunny, I'll check in with my parents. Do you want to come along?"

You reply that you don’t really feel like it, and want to stay alone for an hour or two.

You’re eating Gino’s pizza in the treehouse. The new owners still haven’t noticed you, somehow, but you’re observing them argue about something.

They’re a family of two, a nondescript middle-aged man and a son, no older than twenty; the latter is hammering away at a laptop’s keyboard.

“You won’t have your paper in time if you keep slacking.”

“Can’t you see I’m not slacking, dad? I’m working on it! And my supervisor — whom you have invited here — is still not here! How am I supposed to work without his input? Just make it up? I’m not a sci-fi writer like you, I’m an actual scientist!”

“You can put that section off until your supervisor gets here.”

“Are you sure he knows where we live?”

“Seeing how I literally bought this house from his ex-wife, yes, he should know where we live. Why is it taking him so long?”

Are they talking about your father? If so, why would it take him so long, anyway? Does he struggle with coming back here because it reminds him of Mari?

“His daughter hung herself on that tree, you know.” The son points at the stump with Aubrey’s pinwheel still stuck in it. “Or, well, the tree that stump used to be. I can understand why he may not want to come here anymore.”

The father takes a sip of whatever it is in his cup. “He also left behind a son.”

“He never spoke to me about his son.”

“Really?”

“Really.” The son leans back and stretches. “If anything, he told me that I’m like a son he never had.”

“Huh. Judging from what he told me about Sunny, I’m not really surprised.”

“What did he tell you about Sunny?”

“Timid, meek, silent, closed-off with his head always in the clouds, overdependent on everyone else, a shadow and not a person. Opposite of you in most ways that mattered to him, barring academics and a misplaced interest in space.”

“Hey.”

“I’m not saying your interest in space is misplaced. Anyway, Mari was always his favourite, but the way he spoke of Sunny made him sound like it was an ungrateful foul-tempered stray cat he picked from the streets and not a child.”

You don’t really care what your father thinks about you, because he’s not your father, anyway.

Your phone buzzes. You lean back to respond without the risk of falling out of the treehouse. It’s Kel, likely demanding for you to show up.

Not that you have an option to bypass these two space nerds.

You respond to the call and shoosh Kel, asking him to call you later. He cheerfully agrees, and you end the call, most likely avoiding drawing attention to your intrusion for now.

You proceed to finish off the last pizza slice, and decide to leave, when you realize that you don’t really have a way out that won’t get you noticed.

The phone rings again. Hi, Kim.

“Sunny, we need your help.”

“I need your help, too.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck in my treehouse and the owners are outside. They’ll see me if I try to leave.”

“Why did you even go to the treehouse?”

“I wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Ugh. Fine. We’ll get there to distract them or something.”

The ding-dong-ditch prank goes off mostly without flaws, but you’re a bit too slow, and the son catches up to you as you slip through the hedge. Thankfully, you’re malnourished and petite enough to make it through when he, a healthy adult, cannot.

“What the hell have you been doing there?”

You decline to answer. It’s none of his business, anyway.

“Wait! You’re Sunny, yes? The kid that lived here?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you come back?”

“My friends live here.”

The voice on the other side of the hedge takes a while to respond.

“Uh. May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What does your father like? I was looking for a gift.”

“You know my father?”

“I’m working on a paper and he’s my supervisor, and my father was his friend for several years. He never told me about you, and—”

“I’ve heard everything.”

“Oh. Well, uh, sorry. So, can I ask you what he likes?”

“I don’t have a father.”

“Yeah, but still?”

“Bonsai trees, I guess. Maybe people who are more like you and Mari and less like me. Remotes not disappearing. His daughter not dating the most perfect boy she could have ever been with, back when she was alive.” The past tense is a burden on you.

“You mean Henry?”

“Yes.”

“Your father dislikes Henry, of all people? How could anyone dislike him? He’s an admirable and gentle dude, I wish I could have been his friend.”

“Yeah.” You have an idea why your father disliked Hero, but you don’t really feel like voicing it out loud. “Same.”

Chapter Text

You’re at Kim’s place. Your father’s new son suggested that you come back later on, and you probably will.

“Took you forever, Sunny.”

You tell her you were busy with the owner.

“Did you get caught?”

You tell her that you weren’t caught, but you did stay behind to talk to the kid who apparently replaced you as your father’s son.

“Um—”

You tell her that it’s fine.

“Anyway, we’re here to tackle a very serious problem. Aubrey?”

“I can’t live in that shithole I currently call home. I need to do something about it.”

You ask her what she wants from you.

“I want you to help me with talking Basil into helping me out.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll do the heavy duty of cleaning and stuff,” Vance mutters, “and we’ll plant whatever flowers Basil picks for us.”

You agree with that. How could you not?

Your phone rings again. Kel demands you to show up to the dinner.

“Do you still accept me?”

“Sunny, I’ve already told you that I’m working on it.”

“Put down your phone, young man!”

You put down your phone and tell Hero’s mother that he will be here in half an hour.

“Oh, good. Now, Aubrey, you haven’t talked much. How’s your mother?”

“She’s bad.”

“Oh? I heard she had health problems. Does she need a doctor?”

“I don’t think she recognizes me anymore.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs over the table.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t behave like that, if even your mother herself can’t recognize you anymore—”

You look at Kel, who frowns. He always had a bit less tact than everyone, but he’s well aware that his father doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Her mother also can’t get rid of the trash in front of her room.” You blurt out the condemnation without even meaning to object to the accusation Kel’s father made, but here it is.

The silence returns.

“Someone should have called CPS long ago.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine! A house full of trash is no place to raise a child! We should find you a foster home as soon as possible, and—”

“Would you mind if I just stay with you, then?”

“I don’t think we have the space for that, mind you.”

“Hero lives in a dorm in the city, either way,” Kel points out, “so we can repurpose his half of the room for you.”

“Nonononono. The two of you shouldn’t share a room. I know everything about your arguments.”

“We may argue a lot, but we’re good friends. Right, Sunny?”

You lift your head and see Kel and Aubrey, with their hands on each other’s shoulders in an awkward half-hug.

“Yes.”

“It’s still not the greatest idea, and—”

Hero’s arrival saves you from the necessity of continuing this mess of an argument.

A mournful waltz is playing.

It’s just Aubrey and you, dancing barefoot on the soft black carpet. Mewo is sitting on the counter, her tail a metronome for your performance.

It’s not for anyone else, wherever they could be; not for Kel or Hero, who might be on the other side of the door right now, not for Basil, who isn’t asleep with the rest of you, not for Mari’s ghost. It’s just for the two of you.

For these short minutes, all is well.

The music winds down, and you stop.

“You’re not bad at this.”

“Thank you.”

She kisses you, and you think about how you’d never rather be someone else. Stop the clocks. You’re where you want to be, and you’d be fine never leaving this room if she was by your side.

Someone should snap you out of your reverie before you decide to sequester yourself again, although it’s not as if she’d be fine with you doing this.

You really don’t want to disappoint Aubrey. She wants you to go outside more.

“Hey.”

“Mmm?”

“I talked to Kim about us being a couple.”

The two of you are already sitting down on the couch, your head on her shoulder. The artificial Sun on the ceiling shimmers; the black wire is still there, ever-present, giving off an absence of light.

It’s raining outside. It shouldn’t be possible for it to rain, now that you think of it. You enjoy the ambience and think about how you wanted to play for her. Maybe now would be a good moment, wouldn’t it?

“What did she say?”

“She’s happy for me, I think. Somewhat disappointed in my taste, but understanding.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Mewo loudly meows.

“I’ll open.” Aubrey stands up, shakes her head and lets Mari into the room.

“Rise and shine, brother! You have an important thing to do today!”

Of course, such an important thing could only be the goddamn Abyss.

The five of you are trying to be very careful to not to startle the living shadows of Somethings all around the place.

What was lost and forgotten, in these depths of your mind?

“Sunny, you need to take a break.”

You nod. Hero has a point.

“What are we even looking for?”

Someone wise. Someone you’ve made up, to distract you from the truth, and someone you’ve condemned to oblivion for trying to make you accept it.

“A friend!”

“Mari, I—”

“I am very well sure that whoever we’re looking for will be a friend to us, right, Sunny?”

You aren’t sure if the wisdom you’ve sealed off will accept you, but it should.

Soon, the door opens on you.

Z

You stand up from the blanket.

“Stay safe!”

Thanks, Basil’s memory. Abbi must be ahead.

Take a step forward. Another, and another. Soon enough, in this perfect darkness, you see a head, embedded into the ground and crowned with tentacles, coiled on the ground.

One by one, they awaken, and lash out at you.

The violin’s bow flickers into existence, and so does the instrument. A blow that would shatter a steel beam in half, let alone a wooden box, is deflected by the instrument in your left hand.

The violin cannot be destroyed.

You duck and weave, trying to catch attacks with your violin or parry them with your bow, but she still gets a blow in. You are sent flying, breath kicked out of you.

Kel helps you to your feet, and narrowly dodges another bone-crushing blow. In the distance, you notice Mari, crouched down over Hero’s unconscious body. A swing of a tentacle passes right through her.

You blink.

No, it just missed her. Thank god.

“CAN YOU TWO GET OVER HERE?”

Aubrey’s bat is doing wonders, and one of Abbi’s tentacles is already reduced to ground squid, but she is barely holding her ground. Another slam catches her in the back of her head, and she’s sent flying, hitting the black dirt with an audible crunch.

You wince. She’s alive, she’s just unconscious, this is a dream, people don’t die in dreams, she’s fine, she’s—

Another blow snaps you out of your panic, and you let go of the bow. You can’t keep fighting like this.

Abbi is suffering. The Abyss transformed her, didn’t it?

You can undo whatever was done to her. You just need to touch her.

“Kel, can you keep her occupied?”

“Sure!”

You take off, and so does Kel, who narrowly dodges and squeezes through openings as you close distance on the head. You hear another sickening crunch and a gasp. Now it’s only you.

A swing of a tentacle knocks breath out of you. You tumble forward, fall, roll and lift yourself up. When the last swing comes, you throw away the violin, and let the tentacle blindly wrap around it, its wooden frame cutting into tightening flesh.

You touch her with both hands — jaw with left, temple with right — and feel the tentacles stop.

Focus. Close your eyes. Remember what she was like, before you have sealed her here due to your desire to not be yourself. Fashion the blank bob cut, the question mark of a face, the asymmetrical hands, the smile.

She’ll be the way she was soon.

A cold hand is lying on your shoulder. Behind you, someone is chewing. You can smell pizza and chicken.

“You want some?”

“Shoosh.” Mari’s voice is coming from right behind you. “He’s busy.”

“Okay.” Thank you, Kel, but you are busy.

What was forgotten shall be remembered.

When you open your eyes, Abbi’s lying on the floor. She’s slightly shorter than you are, even with your minuscule frame.

“Have you remembered, Dreamer?”

You’re not sure if she refers to the truth about Mari or herself, but it doesn’t matter.

“I did.”

“Then I needn’t hide it anymore. My voice—”

You shut it out for a long, long time, but what good was it for you? It never went away. You had to listen.

And now, you needn’t. Because you know what she has to say.

Your sister hugs you from behind, and you feel a rush of cold across your body. Abbi continues her speech.

“You don’t deserve to live in guilt. None do. You always knew that, even if you never wanted to listen, because all you heard was what drove you into seclusion and me here.”

You’re surprised how much her voice resembles Mari’s, even if you always found your sister an example to follow.

“Hey,” Aubrey stumbles over, “why did you attack us? I think you broke my neck.”

You shiver. You already know the answer. People who don’t listen to the voice of reason often act without concern for how it affects others.

“She didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, and— oh, nevermind. Sorry.”

Kel stumbles over, with Hero leaning onto him.

“I hope you’re alright?”

“Of course we are.”

“Then I shouldn’t hide this from you anymore.”

You take the knife from the tentacle, and feel your fingers clench onto the handle. Look into the red metal, and drag a finger across its flat surface. It’s wet, almost bloody, but there’s no blood remaining on your fingers from it. The reflection is just you, eyes shining bright, even as you tilt it to get a glimpse at your other companions. You blink, and there it is: Mari, right behind you, with no vibrant purple to her reflection, only primitive black and white of who you wished to be.

This world is a false one. Should the need arise, its falseness can be invoked.

You release the handle, and the weapon flickers out of existence. You can faintly feel it: the desire to forget, unmake, destroy, erase, cast in black and crimson.

“You okay, Sunny?”

You nod.

It’s time to go.

Chapter Text

Basil is knocking on the door.

You’re already awake, as it’s evident by you opening the door.

“I thought you’d see me when you came back.”

You respond that you were a little busy and anyway, he woke you up.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to have breakfast with us. My parents are home—”

Wait, Polly isn’t Basil’s mom?

“—and I’d love it if you talked to them. They’d appreciate knowing who’s my best friend.”

You nod, and concede to Basil. Between the two of you, you are the wallflower.

“You don’t look well.”

“How’s your eye?”

“We are very sorry for our son’s misbehaviour.”

“We don’t really understand why you’re still friends, but if you are, good for you.”

“If you want to press charges, we’ll understand.”

Are these two windbags really Basil’s parents?

“We shouldn’t have allowed Basil such a dangerous hobby.”

You look at Basil. He’s massively embarrassed by his parents.

“At least photography is safe, but it’s so unfortunate that Mary met her end like this.”

If your parents were like this, you’d be embarrassed, too.

“And to think of this, we let him be bullied for so long!”

Oh damn here it goes.

“People like her should be isolated from society.”

“Ostracized.”

“Mhmmm.”

“What is wrong with her parents? Why does such garbage live in this idyllic town?”

You notice Polly bite down on her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Anyway, we are terribly sorry for all the discomfort caused by our son. You are a musician, right?”

You tell them that you’re a violinist.

“Would you like to play for us?”

You refuse, politely. You’d rather not be polite.

“Shame! We looked forward to such a performance. Did you leave your violin at home?”

You didn’t. It’s safely tucked away at Kel’s house. You tell them that you did, however.

“Ah. We have purchased our son a clarinet, and hoped that you’d play together.”

“Mom, Sunny is way better a player than me, I barely started out—”

“Nonsense! How hard could it be? We’d get you a tutor. You’ll become a master clarinetist in no time.”

Hard enough to make you feel like your fingers bleed, as your experience can tell you.

“Anyway,” Basil’s father turns to you, “why did you come back?”

You tell them you’re visiting your friends.

“Ah. We haven’t seen you yesterday, though. Who were your friends, anyway? These two neighbours of yours and that delinquent hellion?”

“Mom—”

“Why do you even bother with these people?”

You stare down Basil’s mother. A cold wind blows through the room, too light to tilt or knock over anything, but strong enough to be noticeable. She gulps.

“Moving on.”

“This is hard, you know?”

You and Basil are sitting down on a blue blanket, next to the hideout’s lake. He’s fiddling with the clarinet.

You tell him it’s similar to a trumpet, but way harder.

“You played the trumpet?”

“Kel does.”

“Right, I saw him with the trumpet. That thing is awful.”

He inhales and lets loose a long note.

“Sunny, is this good?”

You nod.

“Thank you!”

Your phone buzzes. It’s Aubrey, asking you if you’re going to deal with Basil.

Here goes nothing. Basil is in the middle of another note when you interrupt him with your question.

You ask him if he’s fine with helping you to renovate Aubrey’s house.

“Sorry?”

You tell him that the Hooligans are looking for advice for plants to add to Aubrey’s house, and are going to clean it out tomorrow since as of right now it’s a garbage dump of a building.

“Um.”

You tell him that he needn’t do that if he doesn’t want to.

“No, it’s fine. I just...I’m not really comfortable with going to Aubrey’s house.”

You tell him that he doesn’t have to go inside.

“Well, you are, and I’d like to tag along, and while I don’t really mind Aubrey being there, it’s…”

He stops for a second and plays another clean note.

“...Her house sucks, right? I don’t really want to see just how bad it is. I still care about her, even if I don’t really want to.”

There isn’t really anything you can say about this.

“I just want things to be the way they were.”

“Same.”

“Do you think this is a good choice?”

“Yes. It should be.”

You and Hero pick up the bag of soil; Basil carries the pot of dahlias. The pack of seeds is sitting in your pocket, paid for.

“Don’t you want to talk to your parents, Basil? They could help us.”

“I don’t think they would really want to help me with this.”

“Why?”

“They don’t think very highly of Aubrey and you. I don’t really know what it is with them.”

“Their loss.” Hero frowns. “Come on. We have a house to fix.”

It takes you a while to reach the decrepit dwelling. Everyone else’s already there.

You look at Basil. He’s a bit nervous, but your — and Hero’s — presence seems to put him at ease.

Aubrey opens the lock, and her mother opens the door.

“Hi, mom.” She doesn’t respond. “I’m done living in this pigpen. We are here to do something about this. Get out of my way.”

There’s no sign of recognition.

“Did you hear me? Get out of my way!”

Aubrey’s mom doesn’t move, until her daughter shoves her, and she falls down, letting out a weak groan.

“I’m done with this,” Aubrey hisses, “I don’t want to live like this anymore. You were supposed to take care of me, not the other way around, and you never even cared about me. You haven’t cared about anything other than the bottle since dad left. I’ve seen him. He’s sorry for what I went through. You aren’t.”

You step forward and catch Aubrey’s hand as she’s about to swing a palm at her husk of a mother.

“Don’t. You’re better than this.”

She looks back at you, and slowly exhales, starting to cry.

“You’re right. I’m better than this.”

Chapter Text

You kick a traffic cone. It falls over, as expected. You should probably carry it away instead of trying to show off for no reason.

Next to you, Basil is ripping open a bag of soil. Once it’s open, he gestures to Hero, and the two of them start spreading dirt over the lawn.

“One inch should be fine,” he says. “The grass is already good enough.”

You pick the traffic cone up, haul it to a garbage can and toss it inside. Away with you, blocker of paths. Onto the next one.

Once you’re done with the cones, you look back at Hero and Basil, who are still busy with soil, and tell them that you’ll get back soon.

Kim and Vance leave the house, carrying off bags full of trash. Bottles clink inside. They can probably be recycled.

You’re unrolling the wallpaper while Aubrey is mixing paste. The bunny has been removed from the room for the sake of safety.

“Are you ready?” she asks as you lay out the sheet, and you nod.

Aubrey picks up the paint roller, and starts applying the paste to the sheet. Once it’s done, the two of you plaster the sheet onto the wall and pat it down.

One out of many done. This is going to take a while.

A face, adorned by a single flower, peeks out of the ladder hole.

“I’ve been looking for you!”

You nod and point at the sheet of wallpaper.

“That’s a very lovely peach! Do you want my help?”

Alright, sure, why not. You tell Aubrey that she can take a break, and — after helping Basil to the floor — she leaves.

“Are you going to spend the entire day on this?”

“Sure. I don’t have much more to do.”

Basil cracks a weak smile and helps you to affix the second sheet right next to the first one.

“And what then?”

“My mother will probably pick me up, and I’ll go home.”

Basil doesn’t respond. Another sheet goes onto the wall.

Something is bothering him.

“Something bothering you?”

“I hoped you’d stick around longer.”

“You have my number, right?”

“Your number?”

“My phone number. You can just call me. I’m right there.”

“I suppose. It’s still not the same, Sunny.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Do you promise to come along again?”

“Sure.”

The trash is piling into more garbage cans. There’s so much trash; most of it is bottles and cans, but some of it rots like food does.

You wheel the now-full garbage bin away. One less garbage bin’s worth of trash remains in your vicinity. That is still a lot of trash to go through.

As you open the door, you notice the Maverick and Angel spread soapy water over the floor and start wiping at it with mops. Kel, meanwhile, is stuffing a wall hole with a piece of wood.

“Hey there.”

The trio of boys lift their heads and wait for you to follow up.

“Do any of you want a pizza order? I can collect it for you.”

“So you’re going to slack off hauling pizza?”

“I’ll get Sunny to deliver it.”

“What, you’re going to let your boyfriend slack off hauling pizza instead?”

He shouldn’t have said that within your reach. As Maverick recovers from the thrown piece of scrap, you leave for the hallway and your attic.

Basil and Sunny are almost done with the decoration, chatting about the dahlias the former decided to bring over. The air is stuffy. You need to open the window before it gets worse.

The pizza break is over. The off-duty delivery boy is asleep in your lap.

You, too, are sleepy, and lean against a tree as Basil sits down next to you, ripping into a slice of bread covered in cheese and vegetables. He’s slightly wary of you, even now.

“Something on your mind?”

“Mhmmm.”

You look at your decrepit house. You’re in the process of scrubbing it clean.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What?”

“I knew this isn’t how normal people live. Look at you, or Kel and Hero, or Sunny.”

“I used to wonder why you never wanted us to come to your house. Is this why?”

“Yeah. I was—”

“Ashamed?”

You roll your eyes.

“I suppose so. Ashamed you wouldn’t be my friends if you knew how I live.”

“Well, that never came up since you abandoned us.”

“Hey now.” You carefully prod him in the shoulder.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Anyway, I just want to have a normal life.”

“A normal cliched life? White picket fence, a husband and kids in a big house?”

You chuckle.

“No. That would be boring. Besides that, I don’t think I would ever want kids.”

“Hm?”

You don’t know if you want to talk to Basil about that, but you don’t think it’d hurt for you to vent.

“I’m afraid I’d make for a bad mother, Basil. Look at mine. Does she strike you as a good mother? What if I turn out like her?”

“You’re nothing like your mother, Aubrey.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides that, I don’t think Sunny would give up on you like your father did on your mother.”

You slowly take in the fresh air in the few moments between hearing and processing what Basil said.

“You think—”

“You’d make a good couple. He loved your photos. Always all-blushy whenever I showed them to him.”

“That isn’t enough for things to work out, you know?”

“You’re right. But where’s a will, there’s a way, right?” Basil winks and plucks a dandelion from the grass. “You’ll work it out, and we’ll be there to help you.”

Basil is too kind to you. You don’t deserve his happiness.

“Sunny is my best friend, Aubrey. I want to be by his side, and I want him to be happy. Do you want him to be happy?”

“Sure.”

“Then promise me that you’ll do your best.”

“Will you forgive me if I do?”

You shouldn’t have said that, but you did.

His eyes dart to the pot of dahlias on the grass. “This is up to you, Aubrey.”

Everyone’s gone home. The repairs are mostly done for today.

You’re in the hallway, listening to a conversation between your parents in the living room. You’re not staying at your room, because it’s currently being dried out.

You shouldn’t really call it a conversation, though. It’s a monologue.

“I screwed up with our daughter. I ran away. Why didn’t you do anything?”

Silence.

“When father Julian contacted me, I couldn’t believe myself. She’s lived without parents for so long. She nearly killed the first kid who called her a friend and drove away everyone else. Why didn’t you do anything?”

Silence.

“I’ve seen the garbage bins the kids wheeled out. This house wasn’t cleaned for years. Why did you live in such filth? Why didn’t you do anything?”

Silence.

“I can smell the alcohol. You’re drunk, right now. Do you want our daughter to end up like me? Like yourself? What would she do if she had nobody to rely on? Why didn’t you do anything?”

Silence.

Why didn’t you do anything when you pushed Basil into the lake? Why didn’t you do anything when Sunny locked himself away, when your friends drifted away one by one, when Basil lied to your face and you pushed the closest person you have to a brother away at a moment’s notice?

Why didn’t you do anything?

“I can see you, Aubrey.”

You stumble out of your hideout.

“You can leave now, if you want to. You, I, and my father. The city’s better than this. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, but—”

“Do you think showing up like this is something I’ll forgive?”

“No. I don’t think so. I just wanted my daughter to know that if she needed a home to live in, her father could provide one for her.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have to take it.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes. See you, Aubrey.” Your father nods for the last time, and turns away, before closing the entrance door behind himself.

You pick up Bun-Bun’s cage from the table and look over at your mother’s expressionless face.

Silence.

“See you, mom.”

Chapter Text

Open your eyes.

Mewo demands more chicken. The walls demand more attention. Finally, the laptop’s final missing key is found.

You mince some more meat for the cat, and she eats her fill. Good.

Now, the walls. Alcohol. Rags. Time to clean up. The black scrawls on the walls have accumulated, blotting out the blues and greens; you haven’t even noticed in your reverie how far they’ve spread. You know what to do, at least.

Half an hour in, you bump into Kel.

“I saw you were doing something important,” he smiles, “so I didn’t want to distract you.”

Hero joins you a few minutes later, repainting the places where the solution wore into the paint. Aubrey shows up with pancakes and oranges, plucked straight from the Orange Oasis, right when you’re almost done.

“You could have told me the walls were all blacked out.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about that, sorry.” Aubrey smiles, and so do you. “Besides, we can always work on that together, if they do come back all the time.”

You’re waiting for Basil.

Basil doesn’t show up. Where is he, anyway? Isn’t he supposed to show up right here, since you’re all at a sleepover in Kel’s house?

There’s only one place you haven’t inspected yet where he could be, and you really don’t want to go there.

The laptop beckons, either way. What was the last time you’ve made use of it?

You approach it, and push the last button into its spot with a soft click. The moment you do, a password screen boots up.

You look around. Nobody knows the password, of course. The cat meows.

You already know the password. You have always known, ever since you have locked yourself away in White Space.

I am waiting for something to happen.

The moment you press the enter key, the lights shut off.

You blink once, twice, thrice. The space around you is just as barren as it’s always been. Doors are scattered around this lightless realm, illuminated by soft white glow coming from the doorframes.

“What the hell?”

You help Aubrey to her feet.

“Is this where your unwanted dreams go or what?”

“You could say so.”

“So Basil is probably somewhere here?”

“You’re right, Kel. Sunny’s dreams about Basil are probably less than pleasant.”

“There are eighteen doors. How much should everyone take?”

“I’ll take six.”

“So everyone else takes four, then?”

“Yes.”

The world around you is gray and black. You remember the anguish you’ve felt on the night this place first formed.

You take off your eyepatch, and instantly regret this mistake. Even the tiny shreds of light in this section hurt your eye.

Perhaps, if you keep it like this, it will become inured to light and won’t hurt, and perhaps these dreams will wear out their welcome if you keep dreaming them.

The fact that it still hurts to think of Mari doesn’t change. No matter how much time passes since the accident, it will never stop hurting.

You just need to learn to live with the pain of being a person who killed his sister, just like you need to learn without a working eye. These two conditions are something you just have to accept as they are.

Maybe you’ll become inured to that, one day.

You’re lying on the bluish ground.

Today, you’ve realized a dream of a home. This one mocks you. You’re walking past random houses. None of these can be called a home. Besides that, you can’t live in these houses, because they aren’t yours, and can never be yours.

A cloud is circling around you. Sunny always had his head in the clouds, unlike you. You were always so sure that the world you live in is real. Maybe when he slashed you, he forgot that it was. Your scar aches.

If you were lost in dreams, would you find your way back? A year ago, would you want to?

More importantly, if you were to find your way back, how could you be sure that you aren’t merely dreaming about being awake?

You open your eyes. A distorted blue cat is looming above you, demanding a question.

In your confusion, there’s only one question you can blurt out.

“Is cereal a soup?”

You touch a scribble, and it comes to life.

“You don’t belong here, don’t you know that?”

You do know that. You’re here to look for a colourfully dressed needle in a pitch black haystack. Unfortunately, the needle is nowhere to be found.

“We aren’t here because we want to, ball boy.”

“Do you know where my friend is?”

“Elsewhere. He passed this area earlier. Or, maybe, he will pass through it later. Or he’s already here.”

You look around. There’s nothing but you and scribbles.

“You wish you weren’t here, right? Too bad you can’t leave. Has there ever been a place to escape to?”

“The Neighbours’ Room, maybe?”

“Does it exist?”

“Why wouldn’t it? I’ve seen it myself.”

“Does it exist? Or do you only imagine it existing?”

Take several steps forward.

You can hear it raining, but no drops actually touch you. Maybe it isn’t raining, and you’re only tricking yourself. The city is empty, save for a few shades you can only see when you aren’t looking at them.

There’s a tangle of wires in the distance, and a person inside of it.

Mari.

Mari, Mari, Mari, Mari...

You’re running towards the entangled wires, and tear the body free of them; you don’t realize what you’re doing until it opens its eyes in your bloody hands and smiles.

“Ah, my Hero. Took you long enough?”

She shakes her head, and the cascade of messy hair on her head obscures most of her face, leaving only her right eye to be seen.

“We need to hurry.”

You’re running. Something is chasing you. You don’t know what it is, or why it is chasing you; you only know that whatever is chasing you needs to be run away from.

You want to look back. You can’t.

Ground fades beneath your feet, until you misstep next to a chasm and almost plummet down, right as your pursuer catches up with you.

Mari catches your hand at the last possible moment.

“Shoosh, Sunny. Everything will be okay.”

Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay.

You’re shaking in Mari’s arms, as if she’s just pulled you out of the lake after you nearly drowned.

“There, there. I love you, Sunny.”

You want to cry, but you can’t. When you open your eyes, Mari is already gone; the only thing of note you can see is a stump with a white pinwheel.

She’s done it again.

“Mewo has been very, very bad.”

The butler says that in your mother’s voice.

There’s a cat carrier in the corner — a carrier you must have forgotten about. Mewo is strapped to a table. Multiple sharp implements are lying next to her, as well as a syringe full of translucent liquid.

You approach Mewo. She doesn’t react. You remember how she hasn’t reacted to a lot of things. Her jaw is slightly open; there’s a small puddle of drool on the operation table, right next to her mouth.

She hasn’t eaten anything for a while. You don’t know what happened to her. When you tried to give her water, she seized up. When your mother tried to do it with a syringe, she couldn’t swallow.

You pick up the syringe and look at the wall.

What happened to Mewo was your fault, now that you think of it, but there was nothing you could do about it. Your mother should have remembered, or your father should have taken Mewo when he left. But neither of them bothered to take care of their pet, and now the cat is paying the price.

There’s a red spot on her paw, made with a marker. You stab it with a syringe, and press down, until there’s no more drug to inject.

Seconds pass. You blink. When you open your eyes, Mewo isn’t moving.

There’s nothing more you could do for her. Open the door, and close it behind yourself.

Mmmmph.

You bite into the watermelon and swallow. Juices run down your throat and chin. You spit out a barrage of seeds, and wipe the rest from your face.

What were you doing here, anyway? Looking for Basil?

He has to be somewhere here. There are so many plants around you, Basil would probably take care of them.

Watermelons are plants, aren’t they? Basil has to be here.

You walk through the watermelon patch, occasionally breaking watermelons open against the ground. Maybe there might be something important, just like there was a can of Orange Joe in one of the watermelons Sunny broke in the Pyrefly Forest.

You step into an already broken watermelon, and walk by, not noticing the flowers pressed into the juicy red flesh.

You’re wiping a photo, scribbled out by Sunny.

Oh, fuck this.

You look up to the bright blue sky. A shadow is hanging over you.

“Can I still call you a friend?”

Of course you can, ghost Sunny, you think. We’re a couple. Just, please, stop spooking me so much.

He lifts you to your feet, and poofs into a cloud of black ink, leaving behind a photo of you eating a watermelon. A blotch of ink leaves your face obscured.

You sigh and wipe the ink away, leaving stains behind. Basil, whom you’d ask the same question, isn’t here.

Sunny’s overcome his fear of spiders, as far as you know. You still didn’t. As such, you’re running as fast as you can through this mess of a memory. Mari, somehow, keeps up with you, despite her bad knee.

“Where are you running?”

“I am not staying in this spider den!”

You’re paralyzed with fear.

“She’s dead. Can’t you see it?”

Mari thwacks the husk with a bat, and it explodes into spiders, which crawl away and into the ground.

“They’re so afraid of us, Hero. Can’t you understand how scary we are to them?”

“Well, I am afraid of them, even if they are afraid of me!”

She laughs, and pulls you close to herself.

“Don’t worry. As long as I’m with you, nothing may hurt you, Hero.”

You pluck a pink raincoat from the ground and drape it over yourself. It’s raining so much. You don’t want to be here more than absolutely necessary, even now.

Basil is walking next to you.

It’s not Basil, though. It’s a shadow pretending to be Basil.

“We used to be so close, Aubrey.”

You nod. It’s something you tell yourself at night. The context changed a lot after you learned who ruined the journal, though.

“Sunny and you were good listeners. I entrusted so much of myself to him. I hope my hope wasn’t for naught.”

There’s no point in responding, right? It’s not Basil. It’s just a memory. You should acknowledge it, though.

You sit down next to Mari, who sticks an umbrella into the ground for you to hide under.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You should think more. Think about something you haven’t done yet, Aubrey!”

You feel lost. It’s hard to break habits set in so deep.

You kick over a mannequin, and witness your very own hairdo.

“It’s been so many loops, Hero.”

“What are these?”

“Remnants of these loops, cast away to be forgotten.”

A mannequin of Mari approaches you and cocks its head, looking at you without eyes.

You wonder if she recognizes you, and as the thought passes through your mind, Marinnequin picks up the fake Hero at your feet and cradles him in her embrace.

If there’s one thing Sunny remembered about you two, it’s that you loved each other very much.

Love. Still love, if Mari next to you is real.

“I am real. Why do you doubt that?”

“You died, and I’m asleep.”

“What makes you think that this means I can’t be real?”

You remember how your dad helped you to build this treehouse.

You climb the ladders (which weren’t there), and platforms (which, too, weren’t there), and enter the treehouse.

The floor is covered with messy sketches of things. As you pick them up, they phase through your hands. What is it with this treehouse, anyway? Even distorted and reduced to a scrap of a memory, it doesn’t feel like it should have felt.

You peek out of a window, and see a fake sun on a fake sky. This isn’t how it should feel. You’ve done nothing.

Screw it. You’re taking the elevator.

On second thought, why is there an elevator here? Do treehouses even need elevators? Wouldn’t a ladder suffice?

Whoever maintains the elevator should really wash off the spilled red paint. You should call the butler.

The phone doesn’t respond.

It’s not raining, but it feels like it should.

Basil’s shadow is following you as you stroll through the colourless void.

“You should have talked to me.”

“You’re right, Basil.”

“And why didn’t you do that?”

“I don’t know. We just drifted apart, for some reason.”

“Well.” The shadow deeply inhales. “You’ve still been my friend, Kel. Even if we drifted apart. And you made him come back for me.”

“Did I?”

“Sunny would have never left his house if you didn’t knock on the door.”

There’s a mess of black hair on the ground. You kneel down.

“We could have avoided so much anguish if you were there for us from the start. But we avoided even more because you were there at all.”

Crack!

A RED HAND is rebuffed, its fingers broken. It will not accost you any more.

You lower your bat and lie down on the raft. As you look closer, you notice stains of blood.

You wish someone else was here with you.

You’re being watched.

You immediately regret your wish.

You look around, but there’s nothing to be seen; only shadows and eyes.

Shadows and eyes.

You look in the water. Deep down, you can see a body. Purple hair, and a flower crown.

You gulp for air, and wait for the raft to come next to the bank so that you could leave.

This, thankfully, isn’t what you were looking for.

Is this what you wanted, Sunny?

You look into the mirror. Your reflection already bleeds as cracks spread across his face.

You wish you weren’t here.

You remember a secluded feeling in your head, and slash at the mirror. The bloodied knife in your arm springs forth, and as you cleave through the frame, you can hear all other mirrors collapse and shatter in a perpetual cacophony of glass.

Once the sounds cease and you can remove your hands from your ears, there’s nothing else left in this room for you to do, so all that remains is for you to carve an exit into the last, empty mirror frame that remains after your act.

“We’re moving away.”

What? Now? How are you supposed to move away, when you’ve never left your room?

It’s been four years. You did leave your room in the past.

You’re lying to yourself, Sunny.

The Stranger is looming right above you as you wipe your ears, trying to stand up from the bed.

“You’ve remembered, Sunny. You always would. No matter how much you could struggle against yourself, you couldn’t shut it out. Cracks would spread, and you’d give in.”

You nod.

You have already moved elsewhere. You miss Faraway, even though you are now asleep in Kel’s house.

You’ll always return.

“Your friends are awake. So can be he. Bring me back, and I’ll wake him up.”

...one, two, three…

“And here they are born.”

You touch your brother’s face. He’s twelve, just like he was when Mari was alive.

“This reminds me of the Deeper Well.”

“You’re correct, Hero. It’s a reflection of the Well. These phantasms are born deep within Sunny’s mind. And now, they never will reawaken.”

“Why?”

...seven, eight, nine…

“Can’t you see? He’s met the real you. He knows what you are like, and you are present in his dreams. They are obsolete.”

“Obsolete?”

“Of course!” Mari flicks her finger at the forehead of her own mannequin, stuck in the wall. “There’s no more need in pretending what the lot of you are like.”

“And what will happen if we aren’t in his dreams?”

...eleven, twelve, one…

“Then we simply won’t appear, dummy!”

You take a step forward. Pink carpet covers the ground beneath your feet.

This is the last room.

You’d expect to find your objective somewhere here, but you wish one of your friends already found Basil, because you really hate what is about to happen.

You leap over a gap, and notice a corpse. Purple hair, flower crown.

Three sketches of your friends stand over it, faces grinning, eyes resembling smudged ink.

“Hi Omori!”

The only thing in this room that doesn’t look like an ink sketch that has been thoroughly screwed up by water is a big, yellow cat, looming over the overtly fake facsimile of the Neighbours’ Room.

“We’ve been waiting for you!”

Screw this.

The red knife tugs at your hands from wherever it isn’t, begging to be drawn. This is so fake, even more than your dreams are.

“Stay with us. You know you want to.”

The sketch of Aubrey takes a step forward, bat in her left hand. You notice how artificial her smile is; how her bow isn’t actually tied; how her hair clips through her skin.

“No.”

“Then we’ll make you.”

She swings her bat, and you swing your knife.

As you bring it down, you can feel it rip through the wind and into flesh, parting it as molten butter.

You sever Aubrey’s hand at the wrist, exactly where the real one has the faint scar from your scuffle a month ago. You cringe as you expect it to bleed; instead of bone and meat, all you can see is clean white material akin to chewed paper.

Your other friends attack. There’s nothing the three of them can do, not against the tool in your hand. When all is said and done, all that remains is a pile of papier-mâché and Basil’s body, which — upon closer inspection — is also composed of it.

The yellow cat is gone. Basil isn’t here.

There’s only one place where he can be found, then.

Chapter Text

Open the red-lit door.

Beyond it, a snowstorm obscures the footprints of the person you’re looking for. Retrace your soulmate’s steps, and you’ll find your way back to where it all began to end.

You crack your fingers. Aubrey, Kel and Hero are right behind you. Mari, too, is somewhere here.

...is she?

You start climbing the snow-swept hills, following the path Basil took to the Church.

It’s empty and hollow here.

The picnic basket, abandoned at the entry, is hanging off your arm. You need Basil to get back to you, now. Not because you don’t want him to roam around your memories, but because you’re genuinely worried for him.

He has enough demons of his own to torment him.

Shadows line the pews, their susurration an omnipresent echo.

“Liar.”

“Liar.”

“Liar. Liar. Liar.”

There’s a singular shock of colour in the church, on the left frontmost pew, and Aubrey takes off right before your eye confirms that it is indeed Basil.

“Basil!”

“Get away from me!”

Aubrey narrowly dodges the swing of Basil’s garden shears, and you take a gulp of air.

“Stay back!”

“Basil, it’s us, don’t—”

“Do not approach me!”

It looks like he doesn’t think you’re here to protect him.

“Basil. It’s me, Sunny.”

“Sunny?”

“It’s us. See? We aren’t here to torment you. We are here to take you somewhere safe.”

Thanks, Hero.

“When Mari bought us popsicles, what flavour did she get me?”

Wait, how does he expect you to remember that?

“Uh… grape? Or root beer? I don’t remember.”

Basil exhales and lowers the scissors.

“It’s really you, Sunny. You came for me.”

You came for him.

“And Mari—”

“It’s me!”

“Aren’t you—”

“Yes!”

Blood fades from his face. He’s panicking, again.

“Shoosh. You’re safe with us. Don’t panic, Basil. You don’t have anything to fear while I’m with you.”

“Other than all these things?”

“Not even them! They can’t touch you. See?”

The shadows on the pews aren’t moving. You’re not sure they can move in Mari’s presence.

“We should still leave immediately—”

“Not yet.”

You look up the stairs. It’s Basil, woven from the same darkness as everything in this room.

“When he had forgotten, I was torn into two. The you he wanted to remember, and the you I am. One who has seen and remembered what happened to Mari.”

Basil is breathing heavily. Mari puts her hand on his shoulder, and his breathing steadies, if only a little.

“I have spent so much time trying to make him remember, but he never did, because all he has ever dreamed of was to forget. Waited for him to rescue you, and he never did, because the very sight of you was a reminder of who I am. It took him so long, until at last, he wrenched the shears from your arms in a final act of salvation.”

“How do you know—”

“It is obvious. It should be obvious.”

Stranger approaches Basil. They’re merely a foot from each other. At last, he prods Basil’s abdomen; black ripples spread through the latter’s sweater.

“When you took his eye out, you did the same thing you wanted to do. You just wanted to carve the guilt out of your body, because you couldn’t run from it anymore.”

“Of course I have been running from it all! Don’t talk like you know me! You may pretend to look like me, but you are not me!”

The Stranger looks at you.

“Don’t you understand, Basil? He knows what you are like. I am you. The you that struggled to live with the pain.”

“I don’t want to live with the pain. I want things to go back to how they were, even if Mari can’t be there for me anymore.”

You look at your friends. They’re only watching. Whatever is going on doesn’t permit their intrusion, and they know it.

Stranger crosses the distance and hugs Basil, clapping his back twice.

“You know we can’t just turn back the clock. We will have to learn with the pain. All Sunny can do for you is to hope that you will.”

Basil accepts the hug and closes his eyes. Tears run down his face.

It’s time for you to break the silence, together with the Stranger.

“We’ll do our best.”

As you finish the promise, the Stranger — and, with him, the entire church — bursts into light.

You’re lying on the ground.

Your entire body hurts, as if each cell of it was individually and thoroughly clobbered. Your tongue can taste jammed toast.

“Chew.”

It’s Mari’s voice, gentle as if you’re waking up from a sleepover, not from what feels like death.

“Mari?”

“Basil, are you alright? You don’t look very good!”

“I feel like I just died.”

“That’s because you did!”

What—

“Don’t worry, you got better! An hour or two and you’ll be right as rain!”

You feel hungry. Normally, when you were at picnics, Mari would give you a snack if you were hungry. This jammed toast is probably meant to be such a snack.

“Mari, have you seen a picnic basket?”

Someone prods you in the back. It’s a teenager, roughly your age, with a black eyepatch covering his right eye.

“Sunny?”

Sunny shoves the picnic basket into your arms, before ripping a musical score from it.

“Here. The basket’s now yours. Mari’s last will says so.”

What.

You look at Mari (who must be dead), and she nods her head, grinning.

“It’s your turn at the basket, Basil!”

Aubrey and you are sharing watermelon juice.

For whatever indescribable reason, the picnic basket contains endless reserves of snacks. It almost looks like it can produce this heavenly nectar on demand.

In the distance, Kel is holding back what looks like a sphere of eyes, as Hero is working on some kind of a snack he throws into the maw of a messed-up deer.

You seek out Mari — busy with a sheet of cookies and a baking oven — and Sunny, standing over a bleeding hand, red with the exact colour of the mists in the air.

You walk over, and hear him muttering something at the hand.

“Hey.”

He looks at you, and gives you a nod, before pointing at the hand.

It’s pinned down to the ground with the bow.

You need these to take you to where you belong.

Unfortunately, they refuse to listen. You’ll make them, then.

You could really make use of your help, but, sadly, the you that can help you with these hands is not available now, or in the observable future, or ever because he resents being rendered obsolete.

More hands crawl out of the ground, accompanied by living shadows of all the Somethings.

You look at Basil and ask him to help you out.

“What do you want from me?”

You tell him that you need him to hold them back.

“I am not fighting these things!”

You ask him to fetch the rest of the group over, and probably try to stab something that isn’t a friend with these shears.

“That is really rude of you, Sunny.”

You apologize.

Basil nails another arm to the floor. You’d expect it to just fade through the earth, but, somehow, being stabbed renders them unable to do that.

You look around. Six RED HANDS, restrained by your weapons (or just pinned to the ground, in Mari’s case) and unable to escape.

“Let’s just get them to carry us out.”

You agree with Hero’s suggestion, but you’re not sure how to make it work. It’s not as if they obey you.

Chapter Text

You’re free.

Back to the surface, back to normalcy, back to—

There’s a chime of a music box, inviting you into the bedroom.

“Don’t you want to sleep, Omori?”

The cat is watching you from the ceiling, its yellow paws hanging down.

“All these nightmares you have experienced — are they worth it?”

You look around this bedroom, where you have slept countless times. Each time you have remembered, you have shut it off.

“Sleep, little one. You are safe with me.”

Six beds are waiting for six people to take them. You can take a nap.

You are not sure you will wake up from that nap if you take it. Exalted terror fills your mind, as if you’re facing something infinitely greater than a mere animated playground structure, something that cannot be resisted.
What will you do?

“Go back to sweet oblivion. Accept that you need to sleep. Forget about what happened. Forget about pain and anguish of living without Mari—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Of course, it’s Aubrey. “After all what has happened, you, an animated playground structure, are going to tell him to forget? Forget what he has done for us? For me?”

“Who are you to demand all this?” Kel bites down on his lip. “I am — we are — his friends. We have taken care of him. We should have done that all these four years, because friends care about each other. Why do you think you have any right to take these true memories away?”

“He knows the truth.” Hero’s voice is grave and solemn. “We know the truth. Sunny was afraid to confess to the truth, and he has managed to overcome his fears. He deserves to be loved by us. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive him, but I have to. He deserves to know that we care about him.”

“He’s my best friend. He saved my life, again and again.” You can feel the fear leaking from his voice. “Do you think I’ll let him go?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just take your memories, too. You’ll wake up, and never remember a smidgen of what has happened to you, and will move on to live a blissful life with Mari.”

A thought crosses your mind. The cat swings its paw, and the thought is batted away, fading into nothing.

You need to leave. The door at your right, shimmering with blue, doesn’t open.

“No leaving, Omori.”

You can’t harm the cat from where you are. You need to calm down and think, before the cat comes down and forces you into sweet oblivion.

You recognize the melody played by the music box. It’s the one Mari’s been meant to play for the recital. You and her, in a duet that only occurred a month ago in your dreams.

The music box is a mockery of Mari.

You know what you need to do.

The music stops. No more spinning in cycles. No more endless dreams. No more recycling.

“Well.”

The cat slowly blinks, and you take a deep breath as you let go of the knife and let the violin spring forth in your arms. You are a performer, not a killer.

The sixth voice hums behind you.

“I’m so proud of you, brother.”

“I hoped we wouldn’t have to do it the hard way, Omori.”

You play like your life depends on it.

Moderato.

Your group surrounds you as the performance continues, protecting you from the assault.

RED HANDS, the guilt a murderer feels.

Somethings, the echoes of what you have done.

And the Favourite, who let you live a life without having to acknowledge your guilt, holding it all back until you chose to no longer accept what he has been doing for you.

In front of you, Aubrey is smashing a blob of ink into a pulp with her bat; as she turns to you, you flash her a smile, and she returns it as she takes a swing at the cat’s nose.

Allegro.

To your sides, slightly in front of you, the brothers are holding the tide of red back.

“Your turn, Sunny!”

You let Hero lean back and dissect a RED HAND in two with a singular swing of the bow, mentally skipping a measure and resuming the melody, before deflecting Kel’s basketball into the cat.

Vivace.

You can barely keep up with the tempo as your mind races forward. You high-five Basil, and the two of you impale a spider-looking shadow before pulling it apart, ripping it in half.

Presto.

“Allow me.”

You put the bow down, and let Mari play for thirty beats.

Close your eyes, and listen to the music. Savour every last moment, as long as you can.

When you open them again, all that remains is your group and the cat, scowling in fear.

He takes a swing.

The bow in your hand flickers, and is replaced with the Red Knife.

You take three steps forward, push Aubrey out of harm’s way, inhale, take the blow, exhale and bring the knife down.

You wake up in Aubrey’s lap, in the Neighbours’ Room. Your friends are lying on the floor, playing cards. There are snacks and drinks. You’d kill another embodiment of your coping mechanism for a glass of watermelon juice.

There’s a hollow feeling in your chest, as if something very important has been lost.

There’s no feeling of something looking over you, at last. You feel a bit disoriented. Emotions clashing in your head refuse to go away.

You can hear Abbi’s voice, reassuring you that all shall be well.

“Did we do it?”

“Yes, we did.” She leans down and kisses you on the lips, right in front of everyone else. “Let’s get you to bed. You don’t look very well.”

You’d be so embarrassed, but technically speaking, this is your dream, and you’re allowed to dream of Aubrey taking care of you like that. Therefore, you will allow yourself to be taken care of like that, but only this one time.

Sweet dreams, Sunny. You’re going home.

Chapter Text

When you’re awake, it’s already early noon.

This dream sure was...something. You could draw some parallels to your own nightmares, but what happened tonight felt different in two ways.

First, it felt more upbeat. You could never escape from a gnawing feeling in your abdomen and the tangled, toothy horrors when you were alone with your nightmares, guilt always catching up with you, but this one had you relieved at what events occurred. The scene in the church was weird, though, but you probably shouldn’t think about it too much, if it was indeed what it claimed to be.

Second, it felt authentic in the way dreams weren’t.

You lift your hand and take a closer look at your fingers. You can feel your hands move, your blood pulsing through them, muscles contracting as you bend and straighten your fingers.

A moment later, the moment of clarity is gone. You’re just yourself, laying in a bed at Kel’s house, lost at a sleepover.

Sleepover…

You need to talk to Sunny.

“Wow, you’ve woken up before afternoon.” Hero smiles at you. “Kel bet me twenty dollars that you wouldn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, even if he took Sunny’s pocket money to do that.”

“Where’s Sunny?”

“His mom took him home early in the morning. Nobody else was awake. I swear, that woman doesn’t sleep.”

“This can’t be healthy for her.”

“It isn’t.” Hero frowns. “She should stop pushing herself to work that much, even if it’s to provide for Sunny. He needs a parental figure to take care of him. I cannot be such a figure.”

“Hm?”

“Well, first—”

“Nevermind.” You take into account it’s Hero speaking. “Where is everyone else? Where’s Kel? Aubrey? I need to tell them about—”

“Yes, yes, the shared realistic dream, we all have been there and seen Mari.”

What?

“I don’t think anyone else really needs to know about that, Basil. Certainly not your parents.”

You trust Hero (and resent your parents) enough to take that as genuine advice and not an attempt at manipulation, which it certainly could be if it wasn’t Hero.

“Anyway, do you want breakfast? I’ve made some toast sandwiches and egg salad for everyone. There’s some left for you.”

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, this? Just college things.”

Your reflection’s words still haunt you. They wouldn’t have if they weren’t accurate. Sunny does know what you’re like.

You pick up your camera, and snap a photo of Hero at his table. He shrugs and asks you to show it to him.

“I like how it looks. May I keep it?”

“Sure!”

You’re going to do a diving jump. Of course, you’re scared.

Fortunately, there are several people you trust to help you in the case of an emergency, one of whom has already rescued you from such a predicament and one of whom knows how to do this.

You’re standing on the top of a statue, crouching down like a gargoyle. (The artist girl’s sketch takes a bit too long for your liking.) Kel, Hero and Cris are sitting on the grass, looking at you. Aubrey is rummaging through a picnic basket with Kim.

“I’m done.” The artist girl waves her sketchbook for you to see. You should take a closer look once you jump, and maybe remember her name, seeing how she’s a friend of Kel.

You hop forward and plummet into water feet first, arms to your sides as if you’re a living tin soldier.

You inhale and close your mouth right as you touch the water, and a moment later, you’re deep within the lake. If you open your eyes, you probably won’t see anything, but it’s not as if it will hurt you.

There’s something blue right under you. You can’t get a better look, mostly because you want to get out right now.

You emerge next to the pier, right next to the Hero who looks like he was about to leap in.

“How are you?”

“Scared,” you mutter as you take in a few more deep breaths and steady yourself, “but fine. There’s something blue on the bottom.”

“Let me see.”

As you climb out, Hero leaps into the lake and disappears under the surface. Half a minute later, he emerges.

“Aubrey, did you drive your bike into the lake?”

She nods.

“You did what, Aubrey?”

“I drove my bike into the lake. It was dark, okay? There’s little lighting here.”

You don’t want to ask why that happened in the first place, but now you want to know if you’re doing anything about that.

“I’m not diving again.”

“Basil, nobody says you need to dive again unless you want to. You didn’t have to do that in the first place.”

“I was interested in how it felt. Hey, can I see the sketch?”

“Dry yourself first! I don’t want my sketchbook to be ruined.”

You’re reassembling the pedal system. It’s early evening.

According to Hero, aluminium doesn’t rust, so the frame should mostly be fine. The rest of the parts need to be replaced, and the three of you are working on it.

The screwdriver is remarkably light in your hand. You could feel like you could write a poem on a block of solid steel with it if you wanted to, but here you are, screwing new nuts and bolts on to replace the rusted ones.

“Basil, pass the screwdriver.”

You pass the screwdriver to Aubrey, who’s crouching down on the bike’s right, and she struggles as she tries to shove the new chain onto the rear wheel’s sprockets.

“Allow me.”

You pull a hanging sprocket back and down, and the two of you let the chain clack as it settles where it belongs.

“Thanks. Do you have the lubricant?”

You pass the bottle, and she pours the liquid over the chain, before lifting the wheel and spinning it to spread the lubricant.

“Seems fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“We replaced the chain, the brakes, the pedals, all the connecting crap that could have rusted, and shook out the water. It shouldn’t break under you, if you want to use it.”

“What?”

“It’s yours if you want to keep it, Basil.”

“I don’t know—”

“Listen, I know how it may look, but if you want to be able to visit Sunny at will, you will need a bike. Do you have a bike?”

“No.”

“And I don’t need another bike, and this one fits your frame better than it fits mine. I don’t want it to go to waste. Just lift the seat a bit higher and it should be great.”

“Thanks.” You rest your hand over the freshly replaced handle. It feels comfortable.

You look at Hero, who nods.

“Hey, I don’t know where Sunny lives.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I do.” She grins; you’re a mouse and the Cheshire Cat has found you.

“Do you think—”

“—that you’ll just trust me, like that? Hey, he’s my friend. He wouldn’t want me to hurt another of his friends anymore.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Basil, stop it.” Hero sighs. “Just go and torment Sunny together with Aubrey. His mom will love to see the two of you.”

Chapter Text

It is often said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

You aren’t sure if you’d call yourself beautiful. Hero definitely thinks you are, though.

You’re washing dishes with him. The snow outside is melting, and the sun is shining bright. Somewhere behind you, the younger kids are playing with each other.

You hear Kel and Aubrey arguing about something, and turn back only to see the boy holding the girl’s beloved stuffed toy beyond her reach. It’s alright, you think to yourself. They’re good friends, and always make up, no matter what happens between the two of them.

You hear Hero cracking a silly joke about dishes, and laugh with him as your brother peeks into Basil’s book.

It’s just six of you in this secluded hideout.

You unpack the basket and take the snacks out. Sandwiches, popsicles, cookies, two thermoses full of sweet tea, juice bottles, candy…

Your brother leans against a tree, nose buried into a book. You should probably talk to him, so you stand up and sit down next to Sunny.

“Do you want to swim with them, Sunny?”

He looks up from the book and shakes his head.

“Sunny, it’s quite hot! You should probably cool off in the water.”

He shrugs, puts the book down, strips down to his underwear and walks over to the pier to sit onto it. Now, you only need someone to push him into the water.

Unfortunately, it appears that this burden falls onto you. Thankfully, your brother knows how to swim.

You turn over the score to the first page, and start again.

This was good. Not good enough. It can never be good enough. You’re grasping onto an unreachable ideal and no matter what you do it can be good enough.

You glance at your parents’ photo. Your father isn’t home. He’s never at home, always working and busy somewhere else.

You miss him. Perhaps you miss him too much. But if you missed him too much, you wouldn’t overexert yourself as you played again and again.

You turn your head to your brother. He isn’t trying hard enough, either. You need him to do better. You need him to do better.

“You’ve got it wrong again!”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed him that hard.

You’re still playing the piano.

For you, it’s a matter of fact. You’re a piano player. There’s not much else that can be done.

Your father never comes home anymore. You don’t miss him anymore, either.

Your mother barely stays home. You can understand her. If she ever leaves this house, you’d understand. How can a mother’s pain be felt?

Your brother barely leaves his room. You don’t blame him. You wish he understood that.

A human life is comparable to a candle, or a lightbulb. That night, your brother lost his light. You can only hope he’ll shine again, one day.

Kel has moved on. You don’t blame him. There’s nothing to blame him for; you only wish that your loved ones moved on and lived a happy life, with or without you.

The photos still bear faint traces of a black marker. Aubrey cries herself to sleep.

She wakes up from a faint gust of wind. There’s no wind, even in this decrepit house, but she doesn’t know better.

You wish she didn’t mistreat Basil, but how can you blame her, knowing that your death took all she had away from her, leaving her with no family but a husk of a mother? She doesn’t know better.

You only intervene once, into Hero’s life, when the times are most dire for him.

There’s no relief for Basil’s guilt. It’s consuming him alive, starving him like a plant is starved by a gloomy forest. There’s nothing you could do for him, if only because it’s not something you can do. As long as your friends keep hurting themselves, there’s nothing you can do to help them.

You can try to be there for them, but if they cannot, or refuse, to see or hear, there’s nothing to be done.

Terror, too, is in the eye of the beholder.

Sunny doesn’t hear you knock on the door, or ask him to let you in, because you don’t. He does see you, or what he believes to be you, and recoils.

You follow him into the bathroom, and he still can see you.

An eye unwilling to see the truth for what it is will twist or distort it to see what it wants to see instead. But what is the truth that he needs to see?

You know the answer. You have even left a note in the treehouse. Sunny, too, knows it, but his guilt would not let him see it.

He deserves to know that his sister loves him, and hopes he’ll forgive himself. But to know that, he will have to admit what happened.

Kel is knocking on the door. This is the last time he’ll try to reach out to your brother. In three days, what remains of your family is moving away. Your death left a gaping crack in the hearts of your loved ones.

Your brother hesitates as he descends down the stairs. He doesn’t want to open the door. He is afraid that he’ll see another reminder of what he’s done.

He grips the handle, and freezes. Please, open the door, you think.

Maybe he needs encouragement. You approach Sunny, as he’s frozen at the handle, and put your hand on his. Your brother can’t feel it, but you hope he will. You still love him, and always will, because this is just how this is.

Close your eyes, inhale, exhale and open the door, Sunny.

I know it’s hard to do.

You feel him squeeze the handle and push it down as he opens the door, basked in sunlight for the first time in these long and lonesome four years.

Chapter Text

The trip home is uneventful. Your mother doesn’t talk about what’s going on.

Your mother yawns and collapses into her bed, as you look around the living room. Your bicycle, taken without your mother’s permission, is leaning against a wall (you parked it there). The drums are gone, taken to Faraway.

Your mother is asleep. People shouldn’t drive when they’re that exhausted. You’ve heard that it’s risky, not that you personally know.

You are hungry, and there isn’t any food remaining in the fridge.

You think about how hungry you are, and how you need to eat something, now. The query bubbles in your head, awaiting a resolution.

Wallet. Money. Supermarket. Potatoes and a cut of steak.

You suppress the thoughts that compel you to eat your food raw. That wouldn’t be healthy, would it?

Three hours later, you’re no longer hungry. Another request surfaces: that of enrichment. You are bored and you need enrichment, and that needs to be addressed.

You’re horribly bored, so you should probably go for a walk. Maybe there’s something of note outside.

The park is not as empty as expected. Some people have days off on Mondays, it seems.

You sit down onto a saucer-like swing and push yourself. At the second or so loop, you remember something minor to be guilty about, and your guilt spirals.

You try to suppress the notion of guilt and think of something else, like pizza. Pizza? You are a pizza delivery boy and you're not working. Aren't you supposed to be working?

In my defense, I’m fifteen, you think.

Sure, you might be fifteen, but you did take on odd jobs, and your age isn't a valid excuse for your current truancy.

And I’m entitled to breaks.

Breaks. Yeah, breaks. Things your mother doesn't get. She's burning out like a log that got hollowed out, stuffed with charcoal and thrown into a fireplace.

She’s been working non-stop for a week, while I am not obliged to work. Child labour laws exist, I’ve read about them at some point.

You notice the other delivery girl — who replaced you — bike past you. You push yourself further, again, and think about how she's working, and how she looks pretty cute and you probably shouldn't find her cute, even if that doesn't make her not cute, and wait Aubrey would disapprove.

That’s a fair point, you mentally make a note. You love Aubrey and that cute delivery girl isn't anyone you know.

You spiral back into thinking about the conflict between your feeling of truancy and the awareness of the puritanical obsession with productivity, and look at a shady person eyeing you. You should probably attack them, since they may be dangerous, or run away, although — wait, you don’t remember your thoughts and impulses taking active input from you to resolve. Why the hell is this going on, anyway? Did you accidentally break something within you tonight? Is it even possible for you to break something like that?

You should get somewhere else.

You're carrying an ice cream with you, to a cashier. There's an urgent need to sink your teeth into the ice cream; you try to do your best to avoid or otherwise skirt it. You haven't paid for it yet, and eating it before that wouldn't be approved.

As you pay it off and sink your teeth into the milky goodness, you can feel your brain relax and take the pleasure in. Moving on with this.

It’s one in the morning. You hear someone knock on the door.

The first thought that crosses your mind is there being robbers out for your property — like the ones that attacked you not so far ago. That might be someone who is about to bestow a quest on you, too, asking for help? You need to check it out, although you probably shouldn't, even if the harm they inflict is something you deserve—

Terminate this train of thought, and just open the damn door.

You open the door, and as you notice exhausted Aubrey and Basil beyond it, your thoughts are drowned out in noise.

You look at the two as you bat away random impulses and intrusive thoughts. Don’t scream with glee. Don’t yell at them for showing up this late. Don’t attack them. Don’t — okay, this one should go somewhere deep and stay there, for at least a few years.

“Are you going to let us in or what, Sunny?”

“Are you so glad to see us that you don’t know what to do?”

“Um. Sure. Come in.”

The two take off their shoes, park Aubrey’s new and old bike — apparently, the latter one should be treated as Basil’s from now on — off the carpet and sit down.

"Mom’s asleep," you sign, "please be quiet."

“What?”

The torrent doesn’t stop. You need to manually process it. Or, well, mentally.

“He says that we should be quiet, Aubrey,” Basil whispers, “It’s sign language.”

“Sorry. I’m not...good at it.”

“I can teach you.”

“Thanks.”

You point them at the kitchen, and whisper that you don’t really have anything other than potatoes and steak and didn’t expect them to show up.

“That’s fine.”

Your problem still needs a resolution.

You ask your late-dining friends if they knew that they’d arrive at night.

“Um, yeah, sure. I just wanted to visit you, and Aubrey tagged along to show me the way so that I wouldn’t get lost.”

“Yeah. No ulterior motives in me tagging along. Sure.”

You ask Aubrey how’s her house.

“It’s fine.” She bites into steak, and chews. “I didn’t tell you, but dad visited after the lot of you left. Wanted me to move to the city. I said no.”

“Shame.”

“Well, I don’t—” She stops for a second; her ears light up a little. ”—I really don’t want his pity. Besides, most of my friends are there.”

“Aubrey, your house wasn’t livable until we fixed it. Besides that, the plants will take a lot of time and care.”

“Basil, what’s your point?”

Don’t think about anything. Stiffen your body, and don’t make any movement that isn’t something you absolutely need to do, like put a piece of a potato into your mouth.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’m just saying things, things you may need to remember. Any house can be a home if you put your hands to it.”

“Thanks.”

You ask Aubrey if she wants to move in with you, and Basil drops his fork.

“What?”

Your subconsciousness pings you again, demanding sleep.

“I think he asked you to move in with him.” Basil is smiling uncomfortably, trying to grasp at his fork.

“Sunny, aren’t you...hurrying things along? Besides that, you live with your mother. She owns this flat. Do you think she’ll be fine with that?”

You absolutely haven’t thought of that.

“Maybe the two of you should think about this tomorrow, and talk to Sunny’s mom.” Basil’s smile resolves into a more genuine one, as he rinses the fork. “Either way, we should go to sleep.”

Chapter Text

You look over the walls, covered in renowned paintings. You recognize each and every painting, even in their twice distorted form: repainted to match Sweetheart, and repainted to match Mutantheart.

You see Rococo hard at work, tampering with what was supposed to be a portrait of a French queen, altering it to match the messy image of the new queen.

Mutantheart’s Castle is blooming. You’re not sure if you’re really comfortable here, given all you know about the dungeons, but Mari assures you you’re safe here, next to her. Given how she trounced Sweetheart, you believe her. You’d believe your surrogate big sister even if she didn’t.

A Jash scoots over.

“And what are the four of you going to order?”

The Jash is looking at Basil, who breaks the silence and puts the menu down.

“Tofu spaghetti, Dino Clumps, two donuts with strawberry jam, starfruit soda and hot chocolate.”

“Noted. What about you, young lady?”

“Combo meal, two waffles, three glasses of watermelon juice, and a box of nachos.”

“Noted. What about you, boy?”

“...”

“A whole pizza, a watermelon soda and a bag of popcorn for my little brother, and a cup of ramen, a whole chicken and pineapple juice for me.”

“Ma’am, your brother isn’t little.”

Sunny reassures the Jash that it’s fine, and they leave.

“Shoosh. It’s okay. You’ve always been shy, Sunny. There’s no shame in this.”

You briefly consider how there might be some shame in not picking your food for yourself, but you’d never say that out loud, or at all.

A minute or so passes, and Sunny excuses himself away; Mari taps your shoulder.

“Did you want to talk about something?”

“I want you to catch up with Sunny and keep an eye on him.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried for him, Aubrey. I have always been. He’s been thinking about things a lot lately, and I think you should help him out. Just make sure he doesn’t get into trouble, good?”

“Mari, he can handle everything he needs to, right?”

“Yes, he can! But you do know the difference, right? Don’t split the group.”

You sigh.

“Right, Mari. Don’t split the group. I’ll keep an eye on Sunny.”

Your presence is discovered right in the middle of the Pyrefly Forest.

“Mari asked me to keep an eye on you, just in case.”

“Thanks, Aubrey.”

You appreciate that.

The fog dissipates. Sunny leaps into the stump, and descends down the stairs below; you follow him.

You can hear someone play the piano in — beyond — the White Room. Sunny jams the blood-tinted knife into the room’s doorknob, and rotates it, opening the lock with a click.

He takes a few steps forward, and looks to the left, through the window.

He asks you to stay back.

You close your eyes, thinking. You are sure that he can do this. He’s a better fighter here, in his head, than when awake, and is more than capable of handling whatever pianist has been disturbing him.

You don’t want to leave him alone here, though.

“No.”

“What?”

“Friends don’t let friends face inner demons together, Sunny. Who do you think I am? If Kel and Hero were here, I’d drag them in here and now.”

“You know it’s dangerous, right?”

“Dangerous? Solitude is dangerous. It’s going to be fine. Besides that, no matter what is there, you’ll have higher chances of dealing with it if I’m next to you. You need someone to make sure you don’t want to collapse, right?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Aubs.”

“And I don’t want you to get hurt, and if I don’t go in, you will get hurt. I’m going in, with or without your approval, Sunny.”

He sighs, and steps aside.

Aubrey climbs through the window next to you, bat in hand. The pianist stands up, devoid of colour, and turns towards you. His left eye is a gaping hole; Aubrey wordlessly gasps as she adjusts her grip.

I see you’ve brought someone to assist you?

The pianist’s voice comes from everywhere: his body, the piano, the vast white around you, and your very own skull.

You nod.

Have you been satisfied with her lies?

“What lies?”

The lies she’s told you. That she cares about you, just like your other friends do. That you aren’t a burden for her. That she isn’t just exploiting the opportunity to escape her home, and she won’t ditch you the moment she feels safe.

That you deserve to l—
“SHUT UP!”

Aubrey takes a step forward, and swings her bat, aiming at your reflection’s head; it’s stopped with a metallic clang! half a meter from it. Ripples spread in the air.

You look at the shimmering air, and notice something there: a silhouette of a young girl, wielding a bat a bit too big for her.

It’s only fair that I get help too, right?

The ripples graze the silhouette again, and the two of you see a palette of warm colours, soaking through messy papier-mache, and a carved smile.

The silhouette isn’t real, but the blade (or bat) lock very much is.

You should have brought more friends.

Friends. They’re your friends.

They are only pretending to be your friends.

No, that is only a thing you’re afraid of. That your perceptions are lying to you. Yesterday, your friends made their statements on who you are.

You have been afraid for all these years. Fear has been the guiding principle of your life.

You have been afraid of reaching out to people, afraid to do something for them, only to be rejected and condemned, yet you still tried to help Aubrey when Kim asked you to. You want her to share in the peace and happiness you’ve been longing for.

You have been afraid of being a burden and a leech. You were afraid and ashamed to draw on people’s willingness to help you, but you’re their friend. Kel helped you to return to life, and if he will ever need you, you will be by his side, or lend another twenty dollars to him.

You have been afraid of the truth being known. You told Hero, who took it so hard, that it all has been your fault, and he still accepted you as a friend. Things may never be the same between the two of you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be close, like Mari would have wanted.

You have killed Mari and tore a hole through everyone’s heart. You have to do your best to stitch these holes shut before they can't be. You have been afraid of finding out that someone else died, and you won’t let it happen. You won’t let anyone else die, like Basil almost did, if you could help.

You should just die.

You will not die.

You deserve to live.

You deserve to forgive yourself, Sunny.

You take a step forward, and slash at your reflection, right as Aubrey parries a swing from an invisible (to you) echo.

The thin, red line your knife leaves behind at your reflection’s body sends ripples, and as they fade, so does the wound.

Did you think that you could turn something mine against me?
My turn.

The knife flickers from your hand to Omori’s, and a moment later, you can feel three lines on your chest erupt with pain and blood. You look over at Aubrey; she’s clutching her stomach.

You take a step to the side, and push the invisible papier-mache amalgamation to the side as you keep your partner steady.

“I’m fine,” she coughs up blood, “we can do this, just—”

She shoves you aside, and you’re narrowly grazed by a bat swing.

You need a weapon, now.

You can feel the distorted echo’s location as if she’s an extension of you, even if you can’t see her clearly. Whatever she is, she’s not a friend of yours.

You pick Sunny up from the floor; his reflection is only observing the two of you, dissatisfied with the results of his last move, despite how your mouth is full of blood.

“The violin,” you cough, “now.”

Sunny clenches his fists, and the instrument flickers into existence.

I see you’re going to dance again?

“I will not succumb, again.”

You bring your bat down to block your counterpart’s swing, and watch Sunny clash with his reflection as the knife grinds against the violin’s body. Yours, meanwhile, goes for another swing, but you anticipate it, and aim for the fingers.

Something breaks with a crunch, and you swing again, knocking the tool out of your opponent’s hands. A second later, you tackle her, hands on her neck.

It’s not flesh. It’s mere paper. Therefore, it rips like paper.

As the echo dies, it dissolves into a mass of papier-mache, the shimmering silhouette revealing a child’s body, bursting with translucent red hands.

They cannot harm you in a way that matters, but when one of them runs over your eyes—

You see Basil’s motionless body, next to Sunny’s.

Kel takes a swing at you, and you catch his fist right before it knocks out a tooth or two.

”IT’S YOUR FAULT!

You half-heartedly block his next swing. You can’t take it. They’re dead because of you.

You look at Basil’s body, ripped open with scissors. Black blood — darker than a clump of Mari’s hair — is leaking from it, spreading through the grass, sinking into it and soaking colour from the surroundings.

You look at Hero, barely maintaining the facade of sanity.

You look at Kel, sobbing.

It’s your fault. It has always been your fault.

Every single second of pain and misery over these four years has been your fault.

Liar.

You have told them the truth.

You loved her and you killed her.

It was an accident.

She loved you and you killed her.

She wants you to forgive yourself.

You are selfish.

You care about others.

You are a burden.

You shouldn’t be ashamed of needing help.

You ran away.

You came back.

You look at Aubrey, curled up into a fetal position. She could probably use your help, provided that you had a moment free of the distractions created by this knife.

You catch the weapon with a bow, push it aside, drop the bow, adjust the grip and bring the violin down like a bludgeon, aiming for the pianist’s temple.

There, you have successfully stunned him, and now you have that moment. You just need to help her to shake it off.

“It was me—”

You rip off the red blindfold and hug Aubrey. It takes her a few moments to acknowledge what’s going on, but once you feel her arms wrap around your torso, you let go.

“It wasn’t you.”

Are the two of you going to stop?

Right, you do have a fight to deal with.

“What now?”

I think you should give up and accept that you should just die.

“So you just want to kick our asses?”

The pianist nods.

You tell him that you like his idea, so you’re going to steal it from yourself.

Violin in left, bow in right.

You rip through the next RED HAND as if it wasn’t there, and grasp your reflection’s arm; Aubrey follows suit, restraining your opponent’s options completely.

“What now?”

You ask her what she would do to a rogue mirror reflection.

“I don’t know. If he’s your reflection, does it mean he should be stuck in the mirror?”

You nod. The reflection himself shakes his head.

You’re nothing.

You tell him that he doesn’t get a say in the matter, and he stares you down. You can feel the chill in his eyes, but you’re used to this place’s cold.

“Let’s just throw him through the mirror.”

You ask her if she thinks it will work.

“We’ll figure out what to do if it doesn’t.”

You look in the mirror.

Colour spreads through your image. The gaping eye socket mends itself, becoming a faded out eye. The clothes repair themselves, but do not warp to match yours; the image grows a little, as you did. Next to it, right behind, you can see bloodied Aubrey, taller than you are and smiling; her image doesn’t differ from her appearance in the dream flesh next to you.

“You are me, right?”

I am.

The reflection nods.

“Take care of myself.”

I shall.

Chapter Text

You fall into Aubrey’s embrace as you take a step outside, and she stuffs a cookie into your mouth. You recognize the taste.

“Eat. Mari’s cookies are still the best. She told me to give this one to you.”

You’re so tired.

Basil is running down the stairs, screaming your name. You don’t want him to see you like that, all bloody. It wouldn’t be good for him.

You need to be elsewhere.

The scene shifts. You’re back at Mutantheart’s Castle.

“Sunny, I’m so proud of you.”

You look at Mari. She’s smiling, as always.

“Did you see that?”

“Of course! I will be with you as long as it’s needed, brother.”

Basil is still nervous; Aubrey nudges the tofu spaghetti plate a bit closer to him.

“Sunny, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

There’s no fog clouding your mind. You can focus on the food.

“Once you’re done,” Mari whispers, “take a peek into the Library. I’ll give you a key.”

You look at Spaceboy and his new date; she looks at you and flashes your table a killing smile.

Still just as stunning.

“henlo”

You jolt. The new ruler has snuck up on you.

Basil pokes Mutantheart, and she pokes him in return.

“phood?”

“What does she want from me?”

You tell him to just give her something tasty from the picnic basket, and he pulls a strawberry smoothie out of it.

“mor”

She looks like she’s made of strawberry smoothies and drinks them as basic sustenance.

Basil sighs and shoves a jar of jam into her hands. The sight (and sound) of what follows will haunt you for a few days at least.

Mutantheart unhinges her jaw and swallows the jar whole. You don’t want to think about the logistics of how it reaches her stomach, but once it probably does, you can hear glass break.

Already back to her cutesy distorted appearance, she licks her lips.

“tastee”

The new queen makes a curtsy-like movement, and walks away to bother her fellow clone, who skates through the entry doors and screams about her arrival.

Basil fumbles with the keys (as it’s obligatory) and opens the door at the library’s rear.

It’s raining outside. A road stretches into infinity, with rare spotlights glowing here and there.

You can’t.

You can’t go there now.

You close the door.

“Sunny, what’s up?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. If you want to, I’ll go with you.”

You are sitting at the beach next to Basil. The waves roll towards you, stopping half a foot from where you sit. Behind you, a memory plays out.

“I’m surprised you took up swimming.”

“Why?”

“You almost drowned that time.”

Basil chuckles.

“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me the next time that’d happen.”

“Thanks.”

You look back, and catch sight of yourself biting into a watermelon. You raise your head, smile and wink to yourself as your left eye flickers.

“Mari buried me in the sand.”

“I know. I took a photo. Wanna see it again?”

Of course, the photo album would be in Basil’s possession. You flick through the pages, and find the image of yourself within sand.

“Mari won’t be there for us anymore.” Basil bites down on his lip, and looks down. “I— We shouldn’t have done that.”

You nod, and listen to the sound of waves crashing down. It’s louder than you remember it to be.

You will always miss what never happened.

You can’t really sleep.

You stand up and wander to the kitchen. The carton of milk is going to pay for existing within your vicinity.

“Who are you?”

You turn around and notice a nervous half-asleep woman. Right, Sunny’s mother talks.

“Aubrey. You know, Sunny’s childhood friend. Also his girlfriend, starting last Thursday.”

“What are you doing here, Aubrey? Why is your hair pink?”

The woman isn’t really feeling good, and apparently didn’t catch that last part.

“I helped Basil to get here—”

“Basil is here? Don’t you understand that his influence is bad for my son?”

“It should be fine. They both were stressed out and not okay. He won’t harm him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s still afraid of me.”

Okay, you aren’t proud of that, but that is correct, and this is what Sunny’s mother needs to hear.

The two of you are sitting down at the table.

“I do care about him.” Sunny’s mother rests her head on her hand, sipping coffee. “It’s just hard. Ever since —” she closes her eyes, and continues, “— his father left, I just started working all the time. I love my son more than anything, but it’s hard for me to talk to him in person, or… This is why we moved. I couldn’t bear to be in that house anymore.”

You nod.

“I can’t relate, but I understand.”

“Thank you. I just want him to be happy, and it’s hard. How’s your mother, anyway?”

“She hasn’t spoken to me, or anyone, in years. I spent the whole Sunday wiping the house clear and she hasn’t done anything.”

“Well,” she inhales and exhales deeply. “That can’t be good.”

“I also saw my father. He lives in the city and his dad runs the music shop where we bought our instruments.”

Sunny’s mom raises her brow. “Small world.”

“Mhmmm.”

“What are you going to do next?”

You don’t know.

“I don’t know. I probably will go home with Basil, live a sorry life, keep in touch with your son, try and fail to get into college, you know.” You crack a weak smile. “Never thought about that.”

“You can probably stay with us if you need to.” She taps the table a few times. “Of course, you and Sunny will have to work part-time, then. I can’t live long working like this.”

“Sunny suggested this tonight.”

“Hm? My son isn’t too shy for that? He’s a bit too forward, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

She nods.

“What were you doing this week, anyway? Sunny never told me anything.”

You tell her everything.

You omit the key detail involving your manslaughter of Sunny’s father, claiming he was a nobody and you merely stunned him.

“I hope whoever you attacked won’t press charges. It’d be really bad if they did.”

You nod. Hopefully, he won’t.

“You know, I should wake up Sunny.”

Sunny’s mother stands up and opens the door.

Seconds later, she stumbles out, holding something in her right hand and clutching her chest with her left, shaking. You can’t pinpoint the emotion. Anger? Grief? Anxiety? Fear?

“C-c—”

You pull the phone out. Nine-one-one.

Sunny’s mother drops the glasses on the floor.

Chapter Text

You don’t really want to be awake.

Unfortunately, it’s very hard to be awake when you’re being vigorously shaken awake.

The first thing you see is a cascade of pink hair around a face.

“Sunny, wake up. We need to go to the hospital.”

“What?”

“Hospital. Now. Your mother’s not okay. I think she has a heart attack.”

What?

Heart attack? Your mother? How? She works so hard and is so resilient. This just cannot happen.

“What are you talking about?”

There’s someone at the door. Aubrey drops you down onto the bed and rushes over to let the paramedics in.

This isn’t happening.

This cannot be happening.

“C-call Hero,” Aubrey stammers out at you, “and w-wake Basil up.”

You’re in the ambulance. You probably shouldn’t be there, but you’re the only relative of your mother, and you’re accompanying her to the hospital.

You can’t see what’s being done to your mother, but you can presume the doctors are doing something important.

This isn’t happening.

Your phone buzzes. It’s Hero.

“Sunny, listen to what the paramedics tell you. I’ll be there as soon as possible with everyone. Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to be there for you.”

You’re waiting.

You’re actively shutting down. You don’t feel like you can care about what’s going on, because if you did, you couldn’t live.

The clock is ticking. Whatever’s going on is beyond your ability to process.

You close your eyes.

There’s an argument downstairs. You don’t remember the words said.

You hear Mari’s name and your own name.

It’s your parents.

You don’t remember what they are arguing about, but as time goes on, you realise this was the last memory of your father you ever had.

You’re almost breaking the speed limit.

“We should have bought him something.”

You notice a shop, and park your car. You unlock the doors.

“Go. Two minutes and I’m leaving.”

Kel springs out of the car.

It takes him three. You ask him to pass you a can of soda as he settles the bag of snacks behind the two of you.

“There, there, Sunny. We’ll protect you.”

What have you done?

You shouldn’t have ever let anyone know.

You park your bicycle next to the hospital, and run inside.

There’s nothing else to do. Basil is chasing after you.

It takes you a while to find the person you’re looking for.

The clocks are ticking.

“We are moving away.”

You etch another tally mark into the wall. You have been here for years.

It’s time for you to finally leave.

Hero brakes next to the hospital.

“Are they already here?”

“Sure.” He points at the two bicycles chained to a tree. “We need to hurry up.”

You run off, looking for Sunny, and catch up with Aubrey as she approaches him.

You’re not sure if you’re still here.

Is this really happening?

Someone’s shaking you.

“Sunny? Sunny? We are here.”

It’s...Kel. You think it’s Kel. He looks like Kel, and talks like Kel, so this must be Kel.

“Sunny, we’ll be here for you.” Thanks, Aubrey.

“Sunny, your mother is now in intensive care.” This must be Hero.

You want to, you need to ask something, but you don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know. The response was as quick as possible, but compound damage from all the stress your mother went through will complicate things.”

“Can you give an estimation?”

You can’t hear what Hero says after that, so you lift your head and look at him again.

“One in two.”

It’s reassuring to know that your mother’s life is subject to a coinflip.

You’re home.

Everyone’s staying at your place.

You can’t really sleep.

Aubrey pushes a glass of water towards you.

“You know you need to drink, right?”

You nod and try to swallow the water. You can’t. It’s too hard for you. You cannot breathe well.

“I worry a lot about you, Sunny. You can’t do anything about that right now. All we can do is wait.”

You shake your head, crying. She hugs you. It doesn’t help. Nothing may help you right now.

Hero takes the cookie pan out of the stove and pours the cookies into a jar.

“Sunny, your mother trusts me to take care of you, so if —” he takes a deep breath, and puts the jar on the table, “— if she doesn’t make it, I’ll do what I can for you. Promise.”

You look up at Hero.

“We’ll have to deal with Sunny’s father, Hero.”

“You mean—”

“Aubrey told my mom everything. She found out what happened to my dad on her own.”

“Mmm. I hope you just won’t talk about it.”

Just like you didn’t talk about what happened to Mari.

This is the second time someone you care about is dying because of you, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

“I need to go.”

You sit down at the edge of the park’s lake, and watch waves spread away.

You need serenity. You can’t live like that. You just made peace with what you’ve done, and now it’s all thrown into disarray again.

You need your music.

Your scratched violin is in your case. You take it out, pluck the strings to check tuning, and play.

You’ve lost so much memories. You didn’t really appreciate the ones about your parents until there’s almost nothing left, do you?

You put the violin down. Aubrey sits down next to you.

“This was beautiful.”

You nod. You feel like you can breathe again.

“All I can hope for is that mom will be fine.”

She nods, and you let her head fall on your shoulder, as she's watching the tranquil scenery.

“I hope she’ll be fine.”

You pick the violin up again, and ask Aubrey if she'd like to hear you play for her. She nods.

Perhaps that'll make you feel better.

Chapter Text

Hero, who is done assembling the drum kit, leaves the room to drop down onto a couch. Aubrey sits down and twirls one of the drumsticks in her left hand.

“Work your magic, Sunny.”

Don’t think about your mom.

You don’t know much about how to play the drums. Fortunately, you had the foresight to get a manual.

“Let’s start with holding a rhythm.”

You pick up the second stick and sit down opposite to Aubrey, giving you access — if not entirely comfortable — to the outer two drums.

“The book says you shouldn’t hold the sticks too tight.” You flip the page, and start slowly tapping away at the drum. “Tap once per second.”

“Okay.”

It takes a while for Aubrey to get the process, but once it’s done, she starts tapping out a fine metronome-like beat.

“Cool. What’s next? Do you have a sample score? I know you use scores all the time.”

“Uh...” You turn a page. “Here’s one.”

“Sixty? Sixty what?”

“Sixty beats per minute. This is a quarter note, so it’s sixty quarter notes per minute, or one per second.”

“And what does this pair of fours mean?”

“It’s the signature. It means that each measure is four quarter-notes. You need to strike the drum once a second, and each four strikes form a measure.”

“Once per second? That’s slow, Sunny.”

“We are starting out.”

Don’t think about the hospital.

She nods, and starts tapping at the snare drum. She’s good at this. You’re not sure if it’s the objective truth or merely your deep infatuation with her, but you like how her beat sounds.

“How would a three-four signature work?”

“There would be three quarter notes per measure. Rock music uses four-four signatures, while waltz music uses three-four signatures.”

“And what about four-three?”

“I don’t think that exists. The lower number is always a power of two.”

“So two, four, eight, sixteen and so on?”

“Yes, but nobody plays faster than sixteen. These are already very brief notes.”

“So what’s the difference between a sixteenth note and a quarter note? Are quarter notes held for four times as long?”

“In practice, yes, but you won’t really have to worry about this much, I think?”

“Okay. What’s the deal with measures, anyway? Do I need to do something different for each of them, or keep the same rhythm for each measure?”

“The latter. Next, try to count beats to yourself, Aubrey.”

She nods as she continues striking the drum, and you notice her giving tiny nods each fourth beat.

“Now, start pressing the right pedal on the count of one.”

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

“Got it.”

“Good. Take the other drumstick and hit the cymbal with it on the count of three.”

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

“You’re a natural.”

She stops and gives you a tired look.

“You’re flattering me. I’m not that good.”

“I like how you sound.”

“I could strike away without any effort and you’d still say that.” She lightly taps you on the nose with a drumstick. “Bop. Now, the other pedal makes this cymbal sound different, right?” She gives it two taps to check. “Okay. Do I need to monitor when to open or close it?”

“The score usually says that.”

Aubrey smiles, and you think about how much you like that smile. You wish you could smile in response.

“Hey. Your mom’s going to be okay.”

You nod.

“I believe she’s going to make it. Your mom cares a lot about you.”

You don’t want to think about this. You need to think about something else.

“Wanna play together?”

“What?”

“You can play your violin and I can set a rhythm for you. You want to play together, right?”

“Yeah, but—” You haven’t played in a duet with anyone since your recital that never happened. “—I don’t really know.”

“Relax. It’s going to be alright. No pressure from me.”

Your eyes flick to the violin case.

“Sure. It’s just Mari, you know it was special, and I don’t know if—”

Aubrey closes her eyes and lowers her head.

“Look, Sunny. I’m sure if Mari was here with us right now, she’d be totally fine with this. She loved you and she’d be happy to know that you’re sharing your hobby with your friends.” She opens her eyes, and taps the bass drum pedal once. “So, are you going to indulge your girlfriend? I want to know how bad I am compared to you.”

“You’re good.”

“No.” Aubrey throws her head back and laughs. “Hell no, Sunny. I suck at this. I want to know just how much I suck at hammering sticks against these drums compared to your soul-crushing performance on your battered violin. If I can’t hold a beat, I’ll buy you a popsicle. If I can, you will buy me a popsicle. Deal?”

“I’ll just buy you a popsicle.”

“You’re not getting out of this by surrendering like that, Sunny! Get your violin out and show me how it’s actually done!”

There’s no point in arguing with Aubrey. Between the two of you (or between her and Kel), she is the one who gets her way.

You’re lying on the floor.

Your phone buzzes with a message.

“Kel, where’s Aubrey? She’s not responding to my messages.”

“How did you get this number, Kim?”

“From Aubrey.”

“Why can’t you just call her or something? You know we argue all the time.”

“Because nobody else is responding, and we are worried. She hasn’t kept in touch with us for all this time. I saw Hero swooping in, picking up the drum kit and leaving but didn’t have the time to talk to him, and I don’t have his number. Where is she, anyway?”

“Oh, she’s,” — you hear the rattling of the keys in the lock, and start relaying what you see — “she’s just came back with Sunny. And now she’s kissing him while he’s trying to become a beetroot. Can the two of you get a room?”

“This is his house, Kel!” Aubrey leans down and snatches the phone out of your hand. “Hiiii, Kiiiim! I miss you so muuuch! I’m sorry, I’m a little busy here, see you soon bye!”

She drops the phone into your outstretched arm, and you find out that the call’s over.

“And I’m in the living room, not in the smooch-the-owner-until-he’s-red room! What is it with you, anyway? You are embarrassing him!”

“In front of you? Kel, you’re his friend, come on, you’ve seen him worse than that! You’ll be fine, right, Sunny?”

The red tulip gives you a brief nod and hurries away before Aubrey can snatch him again; you help him by grabbing her wrist and pulling.

“Hey!”

“Aubrey, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean? Do you want me to tell you why I’m being so loving towards him or what?”

“Yes, that.”

“I’m trying to make him think about anything that isn’t his mother, and I’m running out of topics.”

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

“Distracting him? For now, sure. Hero told him that the doctors suggested no attendance from anyone who can make her worry. That includes Sunny, Basil and me.”

“Hero is now in the hospital, yes?”

“I think so. M-maybe. Not sure. He said that he’ll send us a message as soon as things become more clear.”

Chapter Text

You spin the handle. Your entire party is behind you, wet from the rain.

The door to the end clicks open.

The fifth and final piece of sheet music was left where it belongs.

You take it from the podium, and review the five collected sheets: four lost in your pockets, and one left in this sanctuary.

Percussion, brass, keyboard, woodwind, string. Five families of instruments. (Some would argue that keyboard instruments should instead be considered as percussion, woodwind or string, depending on their inner mechanisms, but as far as everyone is concerned, all keyboard instruments are played roughly in the same way, and differently from other families.)

“Is something amiss?”

You look into the empty hall, full of seats.

“Hey, it’s the recital hall!”

“Is this where you and Sunny were supposed to perform?”

“Yes! We practiced here several times. And we were supposed to perform here.”

“And then you didn’t.”

“That’s right! And we never will. But you can.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see!”

You look through the sheets to read the score. The three new sheets are relatively simple; the two old ones are the ones you have always known.

“Mari, this is our recital song.”

“I know.”

There are no instruments here but your new violin. You will have to recreate the ones you need from scratch.

You’re sitting in a crescent, opposite to Hero at the piano; Mari is standing right behind him.

“Wait, shouldn’t the first violin sit on the left?”

“If Sunny moves to the left, the left half will be too occupied. Right now him sitting in the cello section gives us the best approximation of how an arrangement should look.”

“Why is Hero sitting in the front, either way?”

“Because I’m the best instrument player here, not counting Sunny—”

You interrupt Hero to say that he’s better than you.

“Sunny, you shouldn’t, I haven’t practiced for years. Either way, Basil, I’m going to take care of conducting.”

“Am I supposed to—”

“Look at the gestures right now.”

He raises his arm, lowers it, moves it to his left, right and then raises it again.

“I lower my arm on the first beat. Each motion is a beat. Four motions in a cycle mean four beats in a measure. Do you get it?”

Basil nods.

“So if you made three motions, it would be a three-beat measure?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t think I can do this while playing the piano.”

“Can you play with one hand and conduct with the other?”

“Some parts need two hands.”

“Sunny, what about you? You know the score very well, you should probably be good enough to conduct while playing?”

You say that you will try to.

You watch Mari’s movements, and try to tilt your arm to signal the beats to Basil. You aren’t really good at it.

How long have you been here? Is your mother alive? What is going on, either way?

You’re losing yourself again. You are still not tired. You will never tire. You are already asleep.

You have been playing for as long as you can remember.

There is still something missing.

You play secondo for Mari. The dawn’s light reaches into your room. Are you asleep or awake?

Does it even matter, now, when you’re where you would rather be for a moment, squeezing the final moments out of your dead year-long fever dream with, at last, a resolution it deserved?

“Thank you, Hero.”

She looks at you and smiles. Her eyes are black with the refracted gold of the sun; she is almost not there, fleeting like the dream this is not.

“Thank you, Mari.”

You look at Mari, and imagine her next to you, alive and well, playing with you, and think about what will happen tomorrow.

“I’m still worried it’s not enough, Mari.”

“You’ll manage. You have the score. You can play it, Basil, I’ve seen it.”

“It’s not going to be enough.”

“Anything would be enough. You’re doing it out of concern, right?”

“Mhmm. I just don’t want to disappoint people.” You briefly think about how you are worried about everyone else’s reactions. “It’s haaaard.”

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself over this. As long as you put in the effort, what you do will suffice.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Can you hold the rhythm?”

“Sure, Mari.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing we haven’t discussed yet.”

Half a minute passes with the two of you silent.

“I miss you a lot.”

Mari smiles.

“I’m just happy you are still friends with everyone. As long as you have them, you won’t be alone.”

“Thank you for everything.”

You aren’t worried about what is to come, if only because you are more than certain that everything is going to work out, and you’re (and everyone else) is satisfied with what you will have to do.

“One more rehearsal before tomorrow.”

“Come ooooooon…”

“I’m not pushing you. I just want you to be sure you have it.”

He says that he’s sure he has it.

“Are you?”

He contradicts himself.

“Sunny, this isn’t our recital. We don’t have to do it tomorrow. I want you to know that if you need more time, you can talk to your friends and delay it for a while.”

“And what about—”

“That, too, can be arranged for.”

He nods.

“You still want to hold it tomorrow, right?”

He nods.

“Then, please, hold another rehearsal. We need to make sure everything works fine.”

He says your perfectionism is acting out again.

“Fiiiine.”

He says he’s going to hold a rehearsal, either way.

Chapter Text

You open your eyes.

Hero has taken everyone to their homes; he’ll take you where you are to be with everyone else soon.

This is going to be an extremely important day of your life.

Inhale, exhale.

Slide out of bed. Go to the bathroom. Wash your face, brush your teeth, brush your hair. Change your eyepatch for a clean one.

You will need a more formal set of clothes. There is one in your wardrobe: a two-piece suit, resembling the one you’ve thought up in your dreams. Your shorts might not suffice. You pack the tie into your pocket.

Pay no mind to the fact that it’s just five of you playing for one person.

Stay calm. Everything is going to work out.

You lift your violin out of the case and pluck the strings to inspect them. After a slight adjustment, you put it back into the case.

You receive a message.

You leave the car with Hero. He’s calm. You should be calm, too.

The rest of your friends meet you inside. You notice that Basil and Kel, just like Hero, are wearing a copy of your outfit, with the only difference being the tie’s colour. Aubrey’s cyan headband is missing; she’s wearing a pink paper flower as an accessory instead. You ask Aubrey if she likes that.

“Are you kidding? I’m not wearing it after this, even if I’m keeping it.”

You ask Hero why he picked this suit for you.

“It seemed appropriate. By the way, where’s your tie?”

You get yours out of your pocket, and he ties it for you.

“You need to learn how to tie your bow, Sunny. It’s an important thing to know.”

You tell him that you can just wear a clip-on instead, seeing as your father never bothered to teach you.

“That’s fair. Your mom’s already inside.”

You inspect the instruments alongside Hero. Everything seems to work fine.

Your group of five sits in a half-circle, with Hero at the center. Everything is prepared.

You look at your mother; her face is serene. She’s silent.

Calm down.

“Kel, play the A note.”

“Which one is the A note?”

“The one in the second space from the bottom. Between the bars.”

“Got it!”

He blows the A note. Okay, this seems nice.

“Let’s start.”

You lift your bow and nod.

Sunny blinks when he sees you.

You smile at him, put a finger to your lips to shoosh and raise the baton. Next to you, Hero is starting with the solo.

Keep an eye on me.

He nods.

Keep an eye on the conductor. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

The conductor’s palm shows five fingers. One measure with five quarter-note beats; one with four; return to three.

As you finish the first part, you take a break. A few seconds to recompose yourself. Now, continue, slightly faster.

You aren’t exactly precise, but you do what you can. Perfection is an ideal, not reality, and you’re real.

It’s enjoyable to hear, at least.

The original score ends, and the violin solo begins.

Inhale again. You’re horribly nervous. This is your own work, not recorded at all yet. The culmination of four painful years, silently screaming in the dark.

Your break and ruin, from which you barely escaped.

A minute passes. You repeat the same phrase six times. The trombone, eventually, joins in, followed by the resumed piano and the drums.

The last iteration, however, incorporates Basil’s clarinet. Once it’s done, everyone falls silent.

You remember what you’ve done. Six seconds pass.

You continue, and so does the piano. If this were to be ever played again, nobody would ever get it right.

They don’t know it’s to be played with four hands.

For the last two phrases, all six of you play together.

Silence.

You put the scratched violin down, and stand up to shake Hero’s hand.

Applause.

Your mother is crying as she’s applauding you.

Allow yourself to cry, and hug your mother for the first time in all these years.

Your family is proud of you, Sunny.

You’re at Kel’s home.

It only felt appropriate.

Your mother is eating a salad. A bottle of olive oil stands half-empty on the table.

“So our children and their friends played for you?”

“Yes. I’m so glad they’ve come together and done this for me, and it took them so little time!”

Time is an illusion and you know it all too well.

“And I’m glad Kel put that trumpet to good use.”

“Moooooom.”

“What about you, Sunny?”

You think about your violin.

“Huh?”

“How do you feel about playing this?”

You don’t feel like speaking. You would rather go somewhere else and be alone.

“Sunny, why don’t you tell your mommy and her friends about this?”

You shake your head.

“I think Sunny doesn’t really want to talk about this,” Hero chimes in as he chews down on a piece of duck, “and you should respect that.”

You’re laying down on the grass and staring off into the blue sky.

“Hey.”

Hi, Basil.

“Sunny, do you want to see something?”

You nod.

He disappears, and reappears a few minutes later with a pot of sprouts.

“I think you’d want to see these. I worked very hard with these. Zinnias.”

“For Mari?”

“For Mari.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Silence.

“You know, I don’t think I want this to continue.”

Silence.

“I’ll stay here, but I cannot keep taking care of you. And I can’t live with you anymore.”

Silence.

“Dad found a care facility for you. Maybe they’ll help you. Maybe they won’t. It’s the only thing that he can do for you.”

Silence.

You pick up the empty beer bottle and throw it into the trash.

“Maybe you’ll stop drinking, then.”

Silence.

You pick up the kettle and pour Sunny’s mother another cup of tea as your mother watches.

“Is this good for me?”

“Green tea shouldn’t be bad for your heart.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

You nod.

“I’m very glad that my son is so much help for you.” Kel’s dad drinks his cup of tea as he carefully tastes the cake. “He’s the best son we could ever have.”

You hear Sally wail from your parents’ room.

“Is that Sally?”

“Yes, mom. I’ll take care of her.”

“Don’t drop her!”

“Mom, I’m not irresponsible.”

“Hero told me how you drank expired soda.”

“I missed the taste. Orange Joe was the best thing ever.”

Kel stands up and leaves; he returns with a tiny baby, who smiles at you, before gawking at Sunny’s mom.

“A new adult! Do you want to look closer, Sally?”

Kel brings Sally closer to Sunny’s mother, who fawns at the baby.

“Who’s the cutest thing ever?”

Sally reaches out to Sunny’s mother and swipes at the air to her right.

She starts crying.

You frown and close your eyes. Mari sighs.

Chapter Text

Tick-tock.

Everyone else is asleep.

You’re alone, in the treehouse — Tim was genial enough to let you in — and making use of his telescope. The photo album is lying on the counter, open at the treehouse photo spread.

The stars beckon you, these cold sparks in the dark indigo sky. One by one, they winked into existence, as the last light of the setting sun left this day.

Mari startles you.

“Mari?”

“It’s me, Sunny.”

She’s fifteen, like she was the day she died. This is the dress she was buried in.

“Did I startle you?”

You nod.

“You did great today. I wish we could have done that great these years ago.”

You’re outside, sitting next to the stump. Mari’s laying down, spinning the pinwheel with her fingers.

The photo album is in your hands. You’ve brought it with you.

One last look through the photos, from the beginning until the end.

Your phone buzzes. Whoever this is, it’s not relevant now.

You tap against the first photo: you with your old violin, now a wreck in the toybox. You haven’t changed much since then, have you?

Basil’s birthday. Sleepover. Your hideout. Rain and popsicles. The beach. Your birthday and the forest. The treehouse. The school and the recital practice.

Each and every memory in this album will always be a part of who you are.

It’s Mari and you in the last photo. The way it should have been.

“I don’t know what it is you’re afraid of, Sunny.”

You turn your head to the ghost.

“I would have never met them without you.”

“But you did. And they won’t leave your side, now. They’re your friends and they care about you, just like you care about them.”

“I don’t know what I’ll have to do. Mom’s alive, but she’s still sick. I won’t even know anyone in the city once I come back.”

“You can always make new friends, Sunny!”

“It’s scary.”

“I know it’s scary. I also know that my brother is very brave and can do everything he needs to be the person he always deserved to be.”

“I just don’t want to let go.”

“You already did, when you accepted that I can’t be with you anymore. I’m just a fleeting memory.”

“So you’ll be gone, no matter what I do? I hoped you’d stay with me.”

“No. I want you to let me go, Sunny. For your own sake. For everyone’s sake. Live the life I can’t.”

“It should have been yours and not mine.”

“Don’t say that! You’re my brother, and I would never accept that. The best you can do for me and Mom is to enjoy your future.”

“And what about dad?”

“Dad? Oh. Well, he was never there for you. Why should we care?”

Why should you care, indeed?

“I’ll do my best.”

Deeply inhale, and feel yourself fall asleep and awaken at the same time.

Your White Room, a hearth and a home. Colourful walls and furniture. Mewo, curled into a ball on the carpet. A cozy place like this is where you belong.

The knife flickers into your arm. Its blade is washed free of your blood. Your reflection winks at you.

You stab the blade into the keyhole, and lock the Headspace away, and as you do so, you can feel the awareness of the place you’re in to slip away. You close your eyes just as you fall down.

You open your eyes just as you stand up. Mari is gone; there’s only the wind, spinning the pink pinwheel, and a blooming lily of the valley next to the stump, opposite to a bouquet of flowers supplied by Basil.

You tuck the album next to it, where it belongs. She will always be with you, carried in your hearts.

Somewhere else, the clock chimes midnight.

Happy birthday, Sunny.

Your phone buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. How long have you been standing there, staring at the sky and wondering if things could have gone differently?

It’s Aubrey. She’s massively disappointed that you aren’t responding to her.

“what”

“You’re awake?”

“yes”

“Sunny, can you come over? Please? I’ve asked you a few times and you haven’t responded yet.”

“it’s late”

“You aren’t asleep!”

“what about your mom”

“Father and grandpa took her to a facility. She’s gone.”

Aubrey’s mom is gone? Why? She was just sitting there and not doing anything, like you did. She didn’t recognize you as a person, though.

You’re sitting on Aubrey’s bed. The room is infinitely more livable as compared to how it looked a week ago.

“So, um, I’m still staying here.” Aubrey sits down next to you. “Kel’s parents will keep an eye on me, just to make sure I stay safe, but otherwise, my dad and they are fine with me taking care of the house, now that it’s livable in. Also I feel guilty about not being close enough to Kim and everyone else.”

“You’re good friends.”

“And they barely knew anything about how life was for me.”

“Neither did we.”

She nods.

“I wanted you to know that I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. We have each other’s numbers, right? Aubrey, you’ll always be my friend.”

“We’re a couple.” She leans in and gives you a tiny smooch. “I love you, Sunny. Meeting you was one of the best things that happened to me in my life.”

“Thank you.”

She chuckles at your response.

“Close your eye.”

Oh. You’d rather not, but since Aubrey is asking you nicely, sure, you will.

“Okay. Now, open it.”

There’s a metallic ring with an opaque gem set into it in her palm, and a matching one on your right hand’s ring finger.

“Grandpa asked me a lot about you, and when I told him about how anxious I am about you, he told me to put a ring on you.” Aubrey smiles as she taps your palm. “I thought he was joking, but he gave me those. Promise rings.”

“Pretty.”

“He said it’s rhodonite. Sunny, please, promise that you won’t forget me.”

“I won’t.” You take the ring from her palm. “You want me to put this one on you?”

She nods.

“Aubrey, promise that you won’t forget me.” You slide it down her finger. “Peace and happiness, together.”

“Together.”

She leans forward and touches her forehead to yours, before closing her eyes. “I’m thinking about how Kel is going to react to this.”

“He’s going to love this.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sincere or sarcastic.”

“I don’t know.”

You hug each other; a few minutes pass.

“What happened to the photo album?”

“I left it with the stump.”

“Thank you. I miss Mari.”

“I miss her too.”

“You will always have the dreams, right?”

“No more dreams.” You whisper the words like a second promise, addressed to both her and yourself. “This is the end, and the beginning of something new. Something better.”

Chapter Text

You’re at your new school. There’s a lot of people you don’t know and even more people you won’t ever know.

Some of them are curious about you: about your eyepatch, about your hobbies, about the silver ring on your finger. You answer some of the questions you receive.

Sometimes, you daydream during lessons; but these daydreams are hazy and distant, with none of the youth’s vibrancy. They are bleak, too. There’s not much left to do.

Hero visits you weekly, on Saturdays. He talks to your mom and keeps an eye on her health. (She doesn’t work as ardently as she used to — now, she has neither the health nor the motive.) Sometimes he visits the two of you on Sundays, too, and takes you out for a walk.

You talk a lot about studying (it sucks for both of you), health (as expected) and the future. You tend to hide the ring from Hero, even if you know that he doesn’t show how he feels about it.

You don’t make many new friends at first, until, one day, you walk onto the music band’s performance.

“Hey, kid. Are you lost?”

You tell the teacher that you heard about the music band, and were interested in it.

“You’re a performer?”

“A violinist.”

“We don’t need violinists.”

You turn away and—

“I would like to hear you play, however. There’s a competition I’ve kept an eye on, and we don’t have anyone to send.”

Tomorrow, you’re back at the rehearsal room with your violin.

“Congratulations. If you want to become a soloist, you’ve just made the first step towards that.”

You’re massively embarrassed. You’re not that good. How did you win the competition?

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry. You have a good future with skills like that. You just need to be less shy when it comes to talking to people.”

You nod.

You need to tell your friends and Mom about what just happened.

You dial Aubrey’s number.

You’re lying on the floor. Next to you, Kim tries to play a guitar.

“We’re going to be famous.”

“You can’t even play the damn thing, Kim.”

“I’m going to learn how to play it and then we are going to be famous.”

Your phone finally buzzes. Why did it take him so long?

“Hi, Aubrey.”

“Why did it take you so long? You told me you’d call me around noon. It’s evening already.”

“Something came up.”

“Did something bad happen?”

“I won a competition as a violinist.”

“You didn’t even tell me that you enrolled?”

“I didn’t want to make you worry about me. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Did you talk to anyone else about this?”

Kim rolls her eyes.

“No, you’re the first person. Mom doesn’t know yet.”

You appreciate that.

“I was also told I can consider a soloist career.”

“Do you want to be a soloist, Sunny?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s talk when I crash at your place in a week.”

“TELL HIM I SAID HI!”

“Hello, Kim. Is that a guitar?”

You turn the loudspeaker on.

“Yes. We are going to form a rock band and become famous, and then I am going to steal your girl—OW!”

You don’t take Kim seriously, because of course she won’t do that, especially after being punched by the aforementioned girlfriend.

“I’m going to play the drums for them, Sunny. See you next week.”

“I love you, Aubrey.”

“Love you too.”

Next day, you are swarmed by questions and requests to show off your skills. You oblige people.

You don’t necessarily enjoy their attention, but the fact that once you’re done, you’re cheered on and showered with applause, brings a warm feeling to your chest; a feeling well-deserved.

“Hey, are you by any chance free?”

“When?”

“Um, in general. Do you have a girlfriend?”

You tap the ring on your finger in lieu of response.

“Hey, tell us about her!”

You ask people if you really have to, and they cheer.

You’re accosted by a bully half a minute after you leave the building. Most of these seem to have better things to do than attack you, given your reputation as a beloved, if non-threatening, performer, but this one must have missed the memo, even completely exposed to the crowd.

You ask him to leave you alone, and he punches you in the gut; you take this with a measure of resilience, still shutting your eyes from pain.

You feel him fall on you, hands clutching at mouth, groaning from pain. Someone pushes him off you.

“Are you alright, Sunny?”

You missed that voice, even though you’ve heard it every day.

Aubrey helps you to stand up. The bully is still lying on the floor.

“You know we’re going to press charges, right?” His twin brother — built the same in both body and skull — strolls over. “You just assaulted him.”

“He assaulted my student first.” The music teacher is strolling towards you with a scowl on her face. “Everyone saw it. I saw it. From a legal standpoint, this falls under defence of others, and my student wasn’t sufficiently equipped to perform self-defence.”

The twin swipes the offender’s teeth from the grass and leaves, leaving your bully to groan on the ground.

“Judging by your ring, you’re my student’s companion? He’s been talking a lot about you when practicing. I haven’t seen you on campus.”

“I’m not from here, although my grandfather keeps a music shop in the city.” Aubrey exhales as she swipes your back with a hand. “Sunny, are you alright? Do you need to see the nurse?”

“No.”

“Are you a performer, too?”

“I play the drums a bit. Do you mind if we leave? We had plans for today.”

Nobody attacks you anymore, thankfully.

You graduate. You’re not an honour student, but your grades are more than sufficient to enroll into a college, if you wanted to. You decide to pursue a soloist’s career.

You attend competitions and performances; you tutor children; you even consider enrolling into an orchestra, before being told that you’d need to build up some reputation first if you wanted to be a soloist.

Your wedding is held in June.

It’s Saturday. You knock on Hero’s door; Aubrey opens.

“It took you forever to show up, Sunny. Where have you been?”

You wordlessly produce a bottle of watermelon juice and hand it over to Aubrey. She smiles and steps aside as you enter.

“Sunny, it’s been forever. Everyone was about to cancel the party.”

You jokingly threaten Basil to make Kel your best man instead, and he apologizes.

“Sunny, please, do put even more responsibilities on my family. Hero is already organizing this event! And we still don’t have the flower girl!”

“Don’t you have a sister?” The glasses-wearing girl (Mincy, right?), who’s laying on a beanbag, is sketching something in her notebook. “Sally? She’s the perfect age for that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“By the way, Mincy, how are your applications to the art college?”

“I failed again.” She grins and stretches her arms. “I keep failing at getting into this dumb college and if I fail again the next year I am going to stop trying and go rogue.”

There’s music in the backroom. Upon further inspection, you find the entirety of Hooligans there, likely being Kim’s band.

“Are you rehearsing now?”

“Mhmmm.” Aubrey, who’s currently leaning on your shoulder, points at the drumset in the center. “Angel needs more practice with the bass guitar, but otherwise, barring Mikhael’s inability to write songs he’s going to have to sing, we’re doing great.”

“How’s it going with dad?”

“It’s getting better. I invited him and grandpa to the wedding, if you wanted to know. He’s trying to be there for me, but, between the two of us—” she starts whispering “—he’s trying a bit too much.”

“Good to know. I’ve sat down with Mom and talked this through with her. She is going to take a lot of medicine and will try not to be too nervous.”

“How’s your career going?”

“I don’t really know yet.”

You are predictably nervous.

"Today, we have The Transgressors' lead guitarist, Kimberly Harwell," — the host pauses for Kim to wave at the camera, and turns to you, — "and the band's unofficial leader, Aubrey Suzuki, who plays the drums. One year ago, the band has released their first album, It's Always Somewhere Else. She holds up a CD case; the cover is lined with trees. “You’ve worked really hard on that album, haven’t you?”

“We did.” Kim nods as she chews down on a piece of taffy. “Success was still a matter of luck, though. We didn’t expect to succeed.”

“But you did!”

“Somehow.” You chime in with a grim expression. “I didn’t spend four years learning how to play the drums for naught, right? Even if we flopped, we might have tried again with a different approach.”

“A different transgression?”

You chuckle. You’re unwell. You need an hour of sleep. Another hour of sleep.

“You could say so.”

“Why did you name your band like that, by the way?”

“We used to be juvenile delinquents. Transgressors, if you allow. Then we got bored of strolling around and poaching candy,” you glance at Kim, who scowls, “and decided to take it in a different direction.”

“You’re not breaking the law anymore, I hope?”

“No. Of course we aren’t. Unless her being the band’s face counts.”

“You’re a drummer. It’s rare for drummers to be band faces, isn’t it?”

“Well, I was the leader, and I was interested in learning the drums. And, of course, Kim’s playing the guitar, because she’s the one who keeps the group together.”

“But aren’t you the leader?”

“It’s complicated.” Kim cracks her knuckles. “We share the position, I’d say, as her maid of honor.”

“Wait, you’re married? You never told anyone!”

“Well, nobody asked.” You grin; the wedding band is still almost hidden behind the inset rhodonite. “It’s also none of anyone else’s business.”

“What does your husband think of your career? Is he envious?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. Make sure you don’t vomit while in public.

“He’s a violin soloist. Most likely at a concert right now. He’s the reason I started playing the drums, by the way.”

“Oh? Would you share the story with us?”

“I’m afraid it’s between the two of them.” Kim saves you, once again. “However, one of the songs on the album may tell you something. Hint: It’s the one with a piano track.”

“And—”

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask us?”

“Why did you reschedule the tour?”

“Well.” Okay, nobody needs to know the actual reason. “I feel like I need to take a break from all,” you swipe your arm, “this. Take a breather, spend time with my family, you know how it is. There’s never enough time.”

(Your grandfather passed away a week after your album’s release. You barely managed to attend the funeral. In retrospect, you should have spent more time with him.)

“We have one more question. How do you make your songs?”

“It depends.” Kim pulls a notebook out of her hoodie’s pocket. “Charlene and Maverick are our chief songwriters. Sometimes we get friends to pitch in some ideas or inspirations, or to chime in with a classic instrument, like a trumpet or a clarinet.”

“What about the piano?”

“Piano and violin are played by Sunny. He isn’t an official part of our band, but he’s always welcome at our rehearsals.”

“Is that your husband, Aubrey?”

You sigh and ask to change the topic.

“What’s with the long face?”

“You know that I don’t want to get Sunny involved in this mess, Kim. He’s living his best life now, with the particular brand of fame and recognition that he enjoys. He doesn’t need the vagaries of rock fame.”

“You’re not okay, Aubrey.”

“Of course I’m not okay. I’m horribly fatigued, and food makes me nauseous. I haven’t felt fine for a week.”

“When was the last time you’ve had a period?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Is this why you’ve rescheduled the tour?”

“I am not pregnant, Kim.”

“Stop lying, Aubrey. You’ve a bun in your oven and you don’t want anyone to worry, right?”

“Okay, fine. Yes, we are expecting a kid. Is this what you want to hear, Kim?”

She hugs you.

“Aubs, I’m so happy for you.”

You’d rather have her talk about something else.

“What about you, Kim?”

“We’ve been married since May, if you forgot.” Kim pulls back. “Did you pick names?”

“I haven’t told Sunny yet.” You take a deep breath. “We’ve considered some, though. Aurora if it’s a girl, Rain if it’s a boy.”

“Which one of you suggested these?”

“Fuck off,” you chuckle as you pat her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone yet, okay?”

You’re in Hero’s car. (Given how your eye lens is still in ruins, you aren’t allowed to drive.) Aubrey is napping next to you, cradling a tiny sleeping bundle.

Your car leaves the city boundaries. On to Aubrey’s old home, which the two of you moved into after you started working. Sometimes, your mom visits, when she’s not busy enjoying her well-deserved retirement.

You look through the window and start counting the power poles. One, two, three.

You’d have to pay attention to not become your father, even if most of your time has to be spent away from home.

You’ll stay in touch with your family. Call them daily, if necessary — not that you aren’t keeping in touch with Aubrey each day if possible — and make sure that you aren’t an absent presence in your life. Help out with a treehouse, pay attention to things your kids like, treat them kindly, all manner of things that your children would need.

And if something awful happens, you will not run away.

“Hey.”

“Mmm?”

“Sunny, I need to request something from you.”

“What?”

“Remember what Kel told you about how my hikikomori phase ended?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t repeat that mistake.”

“I won’t.”

The car arrives at its destination. Basil opens your door.

“Hi, Sunny—” He stutters, trying to reconcile something in his brain. “You didn’t tell anyone—”

“You’re the second one to know.”

He smiles and holds Aubrey’s bundle as she steps out of the car, handing it back to her after that.

“Happy birthday, Aubrey.”

“It’s my birthday? Already?”

“Yes! We’ve combined the parties, although—”

“Yes, yes, you didn’t expect this. Let’s get in.”

You open the door and step inside. The crowd is silent. Your eyes dart between Kel, the entirety of the Hooligans, Aubrey’s father, your mother, a short, punkish woman who is, as you’ve heard, married to Kim, and some more people you have met before.

Kim breaks the silence.

“Welcome home, Aubrey.”

“Thaaaaaanks.” Aubrey yawns, and hands over your daughter to Hero as she strolls past the crowd. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hey, explain yourself!”

“It’s my birthday and I choose to sleep. I’m a proud mother of twins and I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, sorry!”

“You could have told us there will be two!”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Can I hold him?”

“Sure, Basil.”

You hand over your son to your best friend, and escort your wife to her bed.

You’re sitting next to Sunny. Your kids are, thankfully, asleep.

The crowd is waiting for something to happen.

He takes a deep breath, and starts playing.

You think about all the years that have flown past; about all the things that have gone wrong, and things that haven’t despite having no right to.

You think about how Mari would have loved to be here for the lot of you. Maybe she always was, in spirit. All these people in this room are only here thanks to her. You wish she was, too.

You think about your mother, who passed away a month ago in her sleep. You expected that to happen, and you didn’t care about her, but you still miss her. You don’t know why you still miss her; why there’s a feeling of emptiness where there was only regret and resentment.

Sometimes things just happen and there’s nothing you can do about it. Maybe you should cherish the life you have.

Sunny puts the bow down. He notices you’re crying, and wipes your face with a tissue.

“How was it?”

“Beautiful,” you say, smiling. “Please, play again.”

He plays again, and you try to pay more attention to the melody. The signature is three-four, like a waltz you’ve danced at your wedding.

And then you recognize it. It’s the same song he’s played to you by the lake, the first time he's played for you and you alone.

In the future, you’ll dance together again and again. You will enjoy your life, and you will be famous, if only for a while. You will make mistakes, and you will solve them together. Your friends will always be a part of your lives, and you’ll cherish what they will do for you, as they will cherish what you’ve done for them.

You won’t need a life different from what you’ll have, and when it will end, you will not regret your past, for it won’t be coiled due to pain and anguish, and the future you’ll share will be happy and peaceful from its beginning to its end.