Work Text:
The park bristles with the sounds of nature, leaves rustling in the wind. The weather is warm, sunshine casting a serene glow through the canopy above.
Two girls are sitting on a picnic blanket, positioned toward each other with snacks laid out between them. Normally their friends would be here, but right now it's just the two of them as the others play in the grass.
The smaller girl has just finished telling a funny story. The older girl laughs, a pleasant sound, before responding with her own anecdote. A contented silence follows as the smaller girl picks up a slice of watermelon from the blanket and begins devouring it.
The older girl, Mari, speaks up again. "Hey, Aubrey?"
"Yeah?" Aubrey says after she's gotten a chance to swallow.
"This is a bit random, but we just had career day in school, and it got me thinking…" Mari trails off. "Have you ever thought about what you're going to do when you grow up? What you want to be in the future?"
Aubrey blinks in bemusement, setting the watermelon rind down onto the ground. She scrunches up her eyebrows, seemingly in deep thought. After a considerable amount of thinking, she shakes her head, flopping back onto her back. "Nah."
"Really?" Mari says. "You have nothing in mind?"
"Nope," she says, popping the last syllable. "I just like being with you guys. I wanna be here forever and ever."
"Well, I'm glad you're happy with us," Mari says with a smile, though it fades somewhat as something crosses her mind. "For me, I think I want to be a pianist. I really like playing piano, and I'm pretty good at it too. But the thing is… I don't think my dad wants me to. And Mom says she's fine with it, but she always sounds weird when she says that."
Suddenly, Mari looks up, her expression growing concerned. "But enough about me. You mentioned wanting to be with us forever… Aubrey, how is everything going at home?"
The question catches Aubrey off guard, causing her to stiffen ever so slightly. Mari seems to sense the change in mood, backtracking. "You don't have to say if you don't want to."
After a moment, Aubrey relaxes a little. "It's okay." She rocks herself upright, using a finger to fiddle with her hair. Mari takes the cue, shifting herself behind Aubrey to comb her fingers through her hair. Aubrey leans into the touch.
"Is it what you told me about before?" Mari prompts.
"Um… yeah," she confirms. "Mommy's being sad again. She stays in her room a lot and doesn't do anything. Daddy's been trying to cheer her up, but it isn't working. She keeps crying. I'm really worried."
Mari makes a humming sound. "That happens sometimes. Some people are just like that. It's not their fault. They get better."
"But it keeps happening," Aubrey insists. "She's never happy anymore. Daddy's always at work now, and when he comes home he never has time for me. He’s always talking to mommy now, and… and sometimes they’re yelling.”
She begins to curl in on herself. "They don't want to be with me anymore." She feels the beginnings of tears in her eyes, which she vehemently tries to cover up, wiping at her face with her palms.
Mari's hands retreating from her hair is the only warning she gets before two arms come around her from behind, wrapping her in a warm embrace. Aubrey makes a slight squeaking noise before she realizes what's happening.
Mari speaks into her back. "I'll always make time for you, Aubrey. You don't have to worry about that."
"I-I know," Aubrey says, feeling deeply flustered as Mari hugs tighter. It feels nice, and soon her head has fallen into Mari's lap. No more words are exchanged as the two of them stay as they are, enjoying each others' presence.
As tender fingers run through her hair, the girl closes her eyes. She wishes this moment could last forever.
…
When she opens her eyes, the scene is different. The sky is darker, the grass not as lush. She's kneeling on the ground now, alone in a field protected by a metal fence. All around, she's surrounded by a sea of headstones.
Mari is gone, as she always has been.
She's not sure how long she's been here. She'd headed here sometime after lunch, saying her goodbyes to her friends to attend church service. She'd endured the scrutinizing stares, the judgemental looks from the churchgoers, but being here is what hurts the most.
A lonely gravestone stands before her. Words are carved into the surface, worn down by the elements. "The sun shined brighter when she was here."
She wonders what Mari would be doing now. She wonders where she would be. Would she be with Hero, pursuing her dreams in college? Maybe she'd be trying to become a pianist, like she had confessed to her all those years ago.
She thinks back to that conversation a lot. She thinks about what could've been.
A sigh escapes her lips, long and shuddering. The sun had been high in the sky when she had arrived. Now it's begun to set, coloring the clouds an angry red and orange. She must've been here for a few hours, then.
She wonders if other kids have to worry about that. About coming home late and being scolded, being told that it's dangerous out at night. The thought of that happening to her would be funny, if it wasn't so sad.
A creaking sound from behind interrupts her thoughts. She turns around to see the priest exiting the church, dressed in his usual formal-wear. His expression as he sees her isn't one of suspicion like the others, but one of solemn understanding.
"We're closing for the day," he says softly. "Try to finish your business soon, if you can."
With that, he turns around, reentering the church without another word. She watches him as he does so, mixed feelings churning within her chest.
She takes one last lingering glance behind her. She takes in the scene: the freshly lain flowers, the wilted grass, the weathered stone and the ever-present inscription.
Then she picks herself up off the ground, leaving Mari behind.
Aubrey comes back to a house that isn't hers, to a room that's barely familiar to her. A muted trickle of noise greets her as she passes through the door, emitting from a boxy television that serves as the sole source of light in the room. What little of the room is visible reveals trash strewn across the floor, accumulated over months of neglect.
She walks past the couch, ignoring its inhabitant.
She feels tired. Nothing much has happened today, and yet she's exhausted to the core. She thinks she knows why, but she doesn't want to linger on the thought for too long.
Making sure to step over any discarded trash, she moves into the kitchen, opening the fridge to reveal its meager contents. They're running out again. She'll need to get groceries soon and ration what's left in the meantime. She’ll forgo dinner tonight; she ate enough during lunch anyway.
Through the doors, down the hallway and up the ladder, and she's back in her room. The attic wouldn't be her first choice for a room, but it's the cleanest place in the house.
Bun Bun greets her as she climbs up the final rungs into her room. The sight of the bunny is a bittersweet one. He was a gift from her father. One last gift for her birthday.
One last gift before he left, leaving her alone.
She doesn't hold it against the bunny, though. Bun Bun didn't do anything wrong. She takes care of him, and he pays her back with companionship.
She reaches down into the pen, rubbing the top of Bun Bun's head. He briefly allows himself to be pet before scurrying off into the corner, lapping at a bowl of water.
Moving on, she unceremoniously dumps her backpack onto her bed. As she does, she glances at the mirror she's set up above. Her reflection stares back. Pink hair, blue eyes, a striking contrast of color. Her eyes are a little sunken, a little red around the edges, but she thinks that's just from earlier.
Turning toward her bedside stand, she decides to continue her work. Pulling open the drawer beneath reveals a baggie full of cotton swabs, a container of rubbing alcohol, and a large, leather-bound book.
Opening up the book reveals a collage of photographs, sending an ache through her heart. All of them show memories of her friends, of better times and happy days. Images of playing, of picnics on a saccharine backdrop.
And then there are the images of Mari, tarnished and ruined by marker. Ruined by him.
She can't comprehend why they're blacked out. Why he had defaced what was once so special to him. Why he could just erase Mari from their memories like this.
Unscrewing the cap, she pours the rubbing alcohol onto the cotton swab, then gets to work. She feels a tightness overtake her stomach as she begins wiping at the blackened photographs of a girl who was gone forever.
It's not fair. You're supposed to cherish the memories. Hold onto them tightly, because you never know when they’ll be gone. And yet here they are, rendered into such a sorry state. She's not even sure whether she can salvage them.
It's not fair.
She rubs hard, but not too hard as to tear it. The movement is rigorous, making her arm ache with fatigue. She continues anyway, driven by a twisted mixture of anger and grief.
She can’t tell when her arms give out, only that there’s a sudden jolt as her hand slips, inadvertently shoving the photo album to the ground.
A stab of panic runs through her as she thinks about the possible damage, but as she hurries to retrieve the album, all thoughts flee her mind as she sees the photograph lying on the floor.
Through the scribbles, she can see them. Two girls, posing for the camera on a picnic blanket. The marker is half-erased, partially revealing the smile of someone long lost. They look happy.
It stings to the core. She's never felt more lonely.
Her room feels suffocating, yet empty at the same time. She needs to be with someone. It doesn't matter who, she just doesn't want to be alone right now.
Putting back the photo album, she climbs down the ladder. She comes to a stop as she faces the couch she had so pointedly ignored as she had entered the house.
With hardly a response from its occupant, Aubrey sags into the couch. After she spends a while in silence, just listening to the discordant sounds of the television, she can't help but glance to her side.
Years ago, people had always told her she resembled the woman sitting beside her. Right now, she can see that. The woman's eyes are sunken, half-glazed, hair hanging in straggly strands that dangle over her face.
A fresh wave of loneliness pierces through her heart. Against her own reason, she lowers her head. She finds herself lying down, head resting on the woman's lap. She's unsure, not knowing what reaction will come.
She stiffens as she feels a shift beneath her.
Then, spindly fingers begin combing through her hair, uncut nails scratching at her scalp. The sensation feels strange, uncomfortable.
…But it's nice.
For a while, she just lays there on the woman's lap, simply enjoying the physical contact. She doesn't dare look up, instead looking around at the ruined room around her, at the accumulated trash and decaying appliances. A nail snags on her hair, making her wince. A hand moves to rub her head, almost apologetically.
It's a sign of life, something that makes her dare to hope, to wonder if there's a chance that her mother could return. That things could go back to the way they were, long before everything went wrong.
She knows it's a foolish idea. But she hangs onto it, letting the fantasy comfort her, letting it fill her mind.
As she lays there, lost in her thoughts, Aubrey stares at the television screen, listening to the repetitive sounds of static and interference. Soon, her eyelids begin feeling heavy, and she finds herself dozing off.
Under the soft glow of the television, head laying in her mother's lap, she falls asleep.
She sleeps easier than she has in a while.