Work Text:
Plink, plink, plink.
Plink, plink, plink.
Sunny played the same three notes, over and over, about four times in a row, before switching to another three, albeit at a slower pace, before speeding back up again to play the first three, eventually managing to keep the same tempo as he played. It was a simple tune; something for beginners to play when first starting with learning the piano. In fact, the sheet music for this piece came with the piano, just so whoever got it could have something to play from the get-go.
He's not skilled in piano playing in any way. Not as skilled as he is with the violin, and nowhere near as skilled as Mari is–
...As skilled as Mari was.
Plink, plink, plink.
Plink, plink, plink.
The entire household was completely quiet aside from the mellow sound of the piano keys and their respective hammers working in tandem, just to produce the same six notes over and over. The piano room was left dark, even though it was late at night. Sunny didn't really care to turn the light on.
He just wanted to hear the sound of the piano again. Whenever his sister played, he felt okay, no matter the situation. Even if she made a small mistake in some parts, he still felt right at peace with her playing. It was supposed to be comforting, playing in her memory, something to keep him calm after the incident. And it was, at first...but then the tune he played just turned into white noise. Yet, he continued to almost robotically play those same six notes.
"White Space," the piece was called, according to the sheet placed in front of him. Just the name alone got his imagination to start running all over again, remembering an old place he used to think of whenever he felt like he needed an escape from reality. A white space...a room, of sorts? An endless area, purely white...with no walls, no roof, and just a small little spot to sit around in.
A place to live.
And that was all it was for a long time. Just an empty space with only a mat to sit on. Sometimes instead, he imagined being in a more fantastical area, like maybe an endless forest of mystery, or an otherworldly planet like the kinds you'd see in sci-fi movies. Just areas he could explore around in his dreams whenever they got vivid enough for him to take full control in.
The mellow, somber tune that went along with the name invoked more ideas he thought he should’ve come up with sooner. It'd be a cold room...As if it were only a bedroom for him to live in, rather than an entire house. That small little spot would be fairly minimalistic, with not much in it. A sketchbook to doodle in, a computer to play on, maybe some tissues to wipe away any tears or messes...And maybe a spot for a pet, like Mewo.
Ah, but a space would need light, too, wouldn't it? If it's completely white, though...perhaps not. Maybe the opposite would work instead. Something dark to take away from the blinding white of the area. Not coming from something too big, though, so nothing like a dark chandelier. Something smaller would work...like a lightbulb.
A lightbulb that seemed to be hanging from nowhere, from a string that has no beginning, emitting pure darkness instead of light.
That would work.
But who would live in a room like that? Sunny wondered, his gaze lifting from his hands on the piano keys to meet his reflection in the piano. Only then did he realize how utterly broken he looked, with his eyes completely devoid of emotion.
An emotionless face for an emotionless room. He'd fit perfectly in there.
He could easily imagine himself in this theoretical White Space, lying on the floor and staring at the endless white sky(?) up above, or drawing stupid doodles in the sketchbook, or wiping his tears away with the tissues, or maybe playing a game of Blackjack on the computer.
Maybe Mewo could be there, too, for company.
Actually, maybe he could visit a spot like that in his dreams. He had read up on lucid dreams before, and while he didn't fully grasp how they worked, he was sure he'd be able to pull it off with enough practice.
...No, he shouldn't think about living in a space like that in his dreams. A scumbag liar such as himself is undeserving of somewhere safe...He'd have to have some kind of avatar to live as instead. Someone more fitting for the place than just him, and someone who wouldn't want to wake up and leave.
Someone as monochrome as that space, even. Enough to be a part of it.
But what would this avatar be called? He wouldn't want to share a name with it...It may be the same as him, but it also wouldn't be at the same time in some way.
Sunny looked to the piano again, reading its brand name.
Omori.
That could work.
Omori was a simple being, with only one job given to him upon creation. A job he must carry out throughout the entirety of his life, however long that may be.
Protect the Dreamer. Keep him safe at all costs.
He knew this very well, even despite being a mere avatar for said Dreamer most of the time. Every day, he remained dormant in the back of his mind, waiting for night to come. And every night, he was played with like a doll, just spending time in White Space.
Everything was okay.
He never actually interacted with the Dreamer before, only staring at him when he appears and disappears from White Space, appearing to lay on the ground for a few moments, and disappearing to take control of Omori as an avatar. Interestingly though, he only began to see the Dreamer pop in and out only recently. Up until now, the Dreamer had control of Omori upon falling asleep. It's strange, but not a problem.
...Until White Space got too boring. The computer only had a notepad to write short journal entries in, and they were all the same. The sketchbook was running out of pages. The tissue box became useless after the first couple of weeks. Petting Mewo could only do so much; her mews asking "Waiting for something to happen?" might as well have done nothing but mock him.
There was only so much to do.
A friend would be nice, the Dreamer thought in his sleep.
While not necessarily direct thoughts, subconscious ideas the Dreamer had lurked in from time to time. They're usually desires, or even memories, taking the form of thoughts only Omori could hear and visualize.
Many of those thoughts contained memories of the incident. They flash in and out, some images being much worse and more distorted than the actual memories. Omori could tell that it was worsening the Dreamer's state with each passing thought. Being stuck in a plain blank spot with barely anything except these thoughts provided no help, either. They were intrusive, essentially.
It was clear that White Space was not enough to keep him safe and distracted anymore. He needed something less constant, less samey, something much more...fun.
Somewhere fun. With a friend included.
Hm.
Sounds like a plan.
Thus, only a few nights later, something dropped nearby. A knife, perfectly sharp enough to cut just about anything. And soon after, a door appeared, right behind the mat set on the cold floor.
A door leading to exactly what the Dreamer needed.
"Omori," the girl sitting in front of him said, "Do you...have any 5s?"
Not at all. Go fish.
It was kind of ironic how he and his best friend were playing Go Fish while underwater, not to mention how said friend is an octopus-like girl from underwater. She looked enough like a normal girl, if Omori ignored her limbs fading into tentacles, along with the two other, more smaller tentacles poking out of her hair. She wore a nightgown with a simple pattern of fish plastered over it. She didn't have any trouble holding her cards, despite the limbs thing.
Abbi, her name was.
She's not a new friend, not by any means. She'd been with the Dreamer for nearly his whole life, only just beginning to exist after he decided upon his favorite book as a kid, with said book being the catalyst for the entire area Omori and Abbi were playing cards in; an underwater city, filled to the brim with sea life. It's still small, with very few residents, but it was enough for the time being. The Dreamer was content, letting his worse memories fade away to the back of his mind.
Everything was okay.
"Any 3s?" Omori asked his friend.
Abbi shook her head in response. "Go fish."
The girl was a long forgotten friend, created from the Dreamer's imagination to save him from loneliness, and abandoned once that need was satiated by acquiring friends outside of imagination. Surely it brought the Dreamer great joy to see her again, even if he had forgotten about her for a good couple of years.
Omori looked at the cards in his hand. He could barely keep a hold of them all. Too many cards.
This was perhaps the longest game they've ever had. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, the more time spent away from thoughts the better, but...it felt a bit boring.
"4?" Abbi asked, her hands(?) also full of cards. Omori nodded in response, handing two cards over to her.
Finally, some progress.
The game continued on for a long while more. The exact amount of time, Omori wasn't sure. He never bothered with paying attention to time passing by, though that may be because it wasn't ever a relevant thing to him. He just knew to sit around and have fun. It was basically his duty after all, even though that makes it sound a lot less important than it really is.
Eventually, the two managed to finish up their game of Go Fish, with Abbi as the winner. It wasn't uncommon for her to win in whatever games they played. She was a smart girl, almost too smart for her own good. At times she said some things that Omori could've sworn she shouldn't be able to know.
Therefore, Abbi became the wisest of them all.
As the two were picking up their card deck and promptly putting it back, she spoke up.
"There's...something we should...maybe talk about."
She had a bit of a worried look on her face, with her usual happy smile faded into a small frown. Her eyes that typically shined with joy lost their bright glint. For a moment, it was almost as if she became as monochrome as the boy she was staring at.
Omori merely tilted his head to the side, unsure of what his friend appeared to be concerned about. Nothing was wrong, or at least, nothing should be wrong.
"It's about...what happened," Abbi said, struggling to keep eye contact. Her voice wavered, as if she were suddenly afraid. But what is there to be afraid of?
She continued, in a hushed tone, "I know...it's...a bad thing, but...It wasn't your fault. We...We both know that."
No. There's no way she knows about that .
She began shaking in place. Some cards were left on the floor of the room, as Omori dropped what he had in hand whilst standing up. Abbi did her best to stand her ground, trying hard to make eye contact with him. Small beads of sweat ran down her face before getting caught by the water around the two of them.
Choose your next words wisely, Omori thought, holding his knife behind his back. He stared right back at his supposed friend, gazing right into her fabricated soul.
The fact that he had his own original thought was nothing to him. What mattered more was the words that were going to fly out of the girl's mouth. He could already sense the distress coming from the Dreamer, the poor boy possibly shifting around in bed from discomfort.
He could also sense Abbi's discomfort from standing right in front of him, with his usual deadpan, stoic look turning into that of resentment.
"Omori–No, Sunny..." the girl said, taking a step back.
Omori's grip on his knife tightened, ready to bring it out from behind him. She's not meant to know the Dreamer's name. Learning of it, let alone speaking it, might as well be a sin in this dream world.
"My best friend...You'll forgive yourself...won't you?"
Poor choice of words.
The next few seconds were a blur. One second, Omori had his knife out, right up against Abbi's throat as he glared right into her eyes filled with tears.
"No-wait–I'm sorry! I'm sorry-"
Next second, there were pure red, almost nightmarishly realistic hands that rose from the ground, immediately grabbing onto the girl's nightgown and limbs, pulling her down to the floor. Omori crouched over her, keeping his blade up against her throat, almost grazing it. She was in tears, blubbering apologies and pleas that were all for nothing.
"Please, no more! Spare me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
The second after that, the blade began to dig into her throat, getting her to cry out in pain, the tears running from her eyes only adding to the water around her. Omori kept silent, all of his emotion on full display in his eyes. He still kept his typically neutral look, but his eyes were full of a burning hatred neither he nor his traitor of a friend had seen or felt before.
It was clear that the boy Abbi was pleading to was no longer the Dreamer. She could feel her limbs practically–no, literally–slowly ripping apart from her torso as the red hands kept their hold on them, as if they were trying to drag her into the ground. Other hands gripped at her head, with some grabbing onto the tentacles poking out of her hair; they, too, were trying to pull her down.
Her cries turned into screams as Omori's knife almost smoothly tore through her throat in an attempt to separate her head from her neck. It was normal for traitors to get beheaded, wasn't it?
It's what she deserved. No one is supposed to know the truth, let alone speak of it. Committing such an act is only deserving of such punishment.
And while some traitors were given the punishment of beheading, others were sent to a prison, correct? So why not give this one a mixture of both?
Abbi was silenced by the knife's slice cleanly cutting her head off. It wasn't like she'd be able to speak a word, anyway. Her look of despair was kept frozen on her face, with her reddened eyes widened and her mouth left agape. The hands that were holding onto her body let that go and went for her head instead. Her face was completely covered up by the hands, at this point. Then, the hands successfully dragged it through the ground, as if it were the head of a ghost or spirit being sent into the depths of hell.
Into the Abyss she went.
Omori stood back up, with his naturally aloof stare returning almost disturbingly quickly. He looked down at the knife in his hand. It was bloody, of course, albeit with a lighter shade of red than any actual blood. Can't have anything too realistic in this dream world. As for the girl's body...it can be left to rot into a skeleton. The Dreamer's not going to remember a thing of it either way.
He left the room, returning outside, sighing in disappointment. He figured that giving the Dreamer a friend to play with would be enough to distract him away from things, but apparently even that wasn’t enough for his safety. Giving someone what they need is harder than it looks, it seems.
Better make more friends to replace her with.
A few months have passed by. Other kinds of friends have been created and destroyed, all through a process of trial and error. And each time, the Dreamer eventually forgot them, as he should.
They were mere failures, only serving as foundation for what he has now: Almost perfect replicas of the friends he knew in reality. Of course, they each had a bit of...quirks that showed them to differ from their counterparts(for example, Aubrey was a bit too clingy and Kel far more energetic than what the Dreamer remembers), but it wasn't any big of a problem. In fact, it was for the better, allowing for more of an escape from reality in the form of more desirable traits in these friends.
The underwater city that once was the main central area of what has now been dubbed Headspace is now a more deeper, hidden region, only to be found and discovered if it has to be. And for now, there is no need to. Not for a very, very long time.
Instead, Omori's friends resided in a room right outside of White Space, as if they were just his neighbors. And right outside of this Neighbor's Room was a small little forest, complete with its own playground based on where the Dreamer and his real friends used to play. It was perfect, complete with a picnic blanket for the group to sit around in, just like how Mari used to set it up.
Today, or technically tonight, they were looking through the flower boy's photo album together.
Basil wasn't an enigma of any kind. Or, he wasn't supposed to be. While he did look a bit off compared to the other three friends, it wasn't enough to raise any suspicion. Not that any peculiarity would be noticed by the dream children; only Omori would be able to tell that something's off.
He did find it a little strange that the Dreamer decided to give Basil a completely separate place to live than the rest of the group, but given the circumstances, he supposed it was fine. It's not like that'll affect anything.
...Since when was Omori able to think his own thoughts?
Must be a temporary thing. He'll lose control in favor of the Dreamer taking over at any minute, sooner or later.
Basil's photo album was almost the same as it was in reality, give or take a couple of changes. One notable difference was Kel's disgusting abomination of a drink being changed from Orange Joe to just plain milk. Neither Omori nor the Dreamer wanted that nasty beverage to dare exist in Headspace. Another notable difference, a much more important one at that, was the absence of any photos with Mari.
Any semblance of Mari had been completely removed in order to get the Dreamer to forget her, as forgetting the core of the incident would in turn cause him to forget the incident in itself and live in blissful ignorance. However, it appeared that the Dreamer wasn't exactly happy with that decision. Many thoughts about wanting to see her flowed through Omori's head, some more distressed than others.
...Maybe you'll see her next night, Omori thought back, as if the Dreamer would be able to hear him. He wouldn't, obviously, but...the idea of it felt nice, Omori supposed. How so, he wasn't sure; not much would be gained from communicating with his creator and controller.
"Hey, Omori, are you okay?" Kel asked him, waving a hand in front of his face. "You're kinda staring off into space over there."
"...Oh. My bad," the monochrome boy muttered.
"It's fine," Basil said. "We were on the last page of this old thing, anyway...Do you want to take any last looks at it?"
Omori shook his head no, letting the flower boy pick up the album from the blanket and holding it up just for himself to look at. Basil’s initially content look morphed into that of a confused one as he flipped a page.
"...Wait a minute..." he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "These weren't...part of the album..."
Oh, no.
Not again.
"...Basil...?" Aubrey whispered. "What's wrong?"
Basil didn't reply, only taking in the photos he clearly shouldn't be able to see, let alone have with him in his album. His eyes began to glow an unnatural red as something cloaked in black grew around his feet; both things something only Omori could see, it seemed.
"It's... Mari ..."
Omori reached an arm out in an attempt to stop the flower boy from revealing anything, but before anything could happen, pure black filled his vision.
Not even a second later, he was back in White Space. He could hear the Dreamer's heartbeat pounding in pure fear, naturally reacting to the smallest hint of the incident. Omori immediately pinched his cheek, not even by his own doing. At least that's back to normal.
The pinching didn't work. The heartbeat quickened. There was only one way to get out of here, to wake up.
He still had the knife in his hand. He raised it up, fully prepared for the outcome. The sound of his controller's heartbeat became almost deafening.
It'll be okay. Just like Basil said.
Everything is going to be okay.
The Dreamer stayed in White Space for the next few nights, obviously trying to isolate himself from whatever danger lied beyond. Omori watched him from afar as he simply lay on the floor, unmoving, only staring at the endless ceiling(?). Sometimes his eyes flickered to look at the lightbulb, but mere seconds later his gaze would be put back to looking at the sky(?) as per usual.
It was strange. How did the two of them separate like that? Usually, the Dreamer would instantly wake up as Omori and manipulate his actions, as though he were nothing more than a puppet on a string. But now...they're separate beings, in the same space. At least, only for a couple of moments before the Dreamer disappears. Only then would he take control.
He never noticed Omori in the room, since he never made any effort to sit up or look anywhere besides upwards, as if he was staring at Headspace's eternal night sky.
One night, the Dreamer woke up to Omori hunched over him, staring him right in the face, studying it. It was clear that the sight of his alter-ego was a rude awakening to him, given how his eyes immediately went wide for just a moment, before going back to their usual, stoic look, matching that of the other pair of eyes looking into them. How curious, for one to see who's essentially himself like this.
He’d done this only once before, upon when he first came to existence. That was much more brief than this, however.
Omori took a closer look at the boy's face, his hair almost falling atop it. His counterpart's eyes looked so...alive compared to what his looked like when he looked at himself through a floating mirror. Why is that, he wondered...
He almost considered seeing his counterpart like this soothing, in a bizarre way. Maybe amusing as well. He was almost tempted to let out some kind of chuckle, but...he wasn't capable of such a thing, as far as he could tell.
Feelings weren't something native to Omori, after all. He was made to be a neutral being. Despite that...some kind of emotion washed over him. Some feeling of protectiveness, perhaps? A wish to keep the Dreamer safe and secure? Something of the sort.
I'll take over from here, he wanted to say, but didn't let any words come out. It'll be okay.
The Dreamer, as if he read his mind somehow, closed his eyes, letting himself fade away. Almost in response, Omori stood up, facing the door leading out of White Space.
And so it begins.
Finally, the whole group was set up: Aubrey, Kel, Hero, Basil, and now Mari. As per the Dreamer's wish, his very own Headspace version of his sister had come into existence. Yes, by creating a dream sister for him to be with, he no longer had any need to worry about anything that may have happened to her.
Omori was–what's the expression? Happy?–for the Dreamer, practically feeling the pure joy emanating from his entire psyche. His sister truly did mean a lot to him; he loved her a lot. Omori loved her a lot, too...but only because he's supposed to, as a vessel, just like how he was supposed to love all of his friends.
Even Basil, who kept accidentally dropping hints at the truth here and there. Omori found the flower boy difficult to like, let alone love–but he had to like him as much as he liked his other friends. It was part of his role, and he made sure he was dedicated to that role.
It was quite annoying that Omori had to reset the entirety of Headspace every couple of days, all because of Basil. Perhaps he should get rid of the existence of that photo album...
Ah, right, he can't. Only the Dreamer can make entities come and go as he pleases. Omori merely acted as a messenger of these entrances and exits. That girl from before, Abbi, only went into the Abyss because of the crime she committed. It was the Dreamer's will to send her off; Omori just did the dirty work for him, as nasty as it was.
It was also quite annoying that he had to reset Headspace on some days because his friends let themselves die far too early. He grew more and more agitated seeing them get their heads bashed into bloody bits of brains by Sweetheart's flail over and over, time and time again. She wasn't that difficult to dodge, but no, she still managed to finish them off in her crazed, Manic state. Omori felt sick just looking at her face; she looked like she caught a bad case of rabies, with her deranged smile and red hearts in her eyes, only adding to the insanity of her frenzy.
By then, emotions had become something Omori had a good grasp of. He had difficulty coming up with and expressing them himself unless he forced one upon himself by reading a sad poem or subjecting himself to Kel's ramblings, and even then...emotions could be far too much for him to handle.
He did find it interesting that only he and the bosses he and his friends went up against were the only beings in Headspace capable of feeling either Manic, Miserable, or Furious. Just why were those emotions exclusive to him as well, he often wondered.
As much fun as his endless adventures were, there was a growing problem within them. Some glances behind him, and some kind of black blob disappears at an instant. Something behind him...where had he heard that phrase before? Other glances around him, and he could've sworn he'd seen pitch-black versions of his friends, aside from Mari, for split seconds. Strangers, they were. Neither he nor the Dreamer had any memory of conjuring any entities of the sort. They're something for Omori to watch out for.
Anything to keep his Dreamer safe and happy.
It had been a few years.
Omori was just as dedicated to his role as his Dreamer's protector–no, guardian–as ever, and his dream friends were just as dedicated to their more minor roles of protection as well...
...Except for Basil. No matter what, it was always Basil's fault for starting the search for a missing member, all because some forbidden photo was discovered. As irritating as it was, Omori had to give the flower boy credit; he was the catalyst for every repeated adventure throughout Headspace…and it wasn’t like Omori wasn’t causing any of his disappearances.
Basil got his own special place to get what he deserves, anyway. There's no reason for Omori to complain.
As the time passed by, the Dreamer used Omori as a vessel less and less, eventually letting him take full control while simply watching from an outsider's perspective. Omori didn't mind it at all, in fact, he appreciated it, as this way he'd be able to set more things right and shut more things out for his Dreamer's safety.
If his safety and happiness meant getting rid of Basil's existence in his mind, then so be it. If it meant throwing out any memory of the piano, so be it. If it meant erasing the happier memories that remind the boy of those times, then so be it.
Anything to ensure that everything would be okay.
And everything was okay.
...Until one certain day happened.
"Sunny, we're moving away."
That phrase from the Dreamer's mother repeated throughout White Space, far too loud a thought to be kept in Omori's thoughts, it seemed. It was the first time the Dreamer's name was spoken in his dreams in years, the last time being when Abbi had committed her unspeakable sin.
Omori could feel the Dreamer's stress rising, hearing the loud pounding of his panicked heartbeat.
It was enough for the boy to show up in White Space for the first time in a long while. He wasn't too far away from Omori, sitting on the floor, shaking, with his arms wrapped around his legs, and his knees pushed up against his chest. He had his head buried into his knees. Omori could hear his panicked sobs, the Dreamer unable to form coherent sentences for either one of them to understand.
How much older he looked compared to the last time Omori saw him wasn't any relevant to him. His first instinct was to walk up to the boy and place a hand on his head, slowly patting it in an attempt to comfort him. This caused the Dreamer to almost jump out of his seat, his head shooting right on up to look straight at his doppelgänger.
"I..." he tried to say, but his words only resulted in more incomprehensible gibberish, unable to come up with what he would've wanted to say.
Omori kept on patting the boy's head, nodding in understanding. He used his other hand to wipe some of the tears off his Dreamer's face. The light that he saw in those eyes was still there... It was a bit difficult to see, but still there, shining. Why is that, he wondered.
The Dreamer–no, Sunny–continued on with his sobs, wiping some tears away as well, until he eventually calmed down, trying his hardest to take deep breaths. Omori still hadn't removed his hand from his head, still patting him. Sunny didn't seem to mind it.
"It's okay," Omori said, in an attempt to get his typically deadpan voice to sound more on the caring side, "I'm here."
How funny it was that Sunny's own alter ego was there for him when his friends weren't, even if it was at the fault of his own isolation. Omori kind of liked being the one to comfort him this time around, though technically he had been there to comfort Sunny all along, by more or less bringing him on dream adventures...even though they were all the same thing repeated over and over.
Anything to keep Sunny safe and happy. Anything for his Dreamer.
...What was his Dreamer to him, exactly, in this case? A friend? An extension of him? Family? Or was their relationship more like that of a prince and his royal guard? He wasn't sure. At the same time, he didn't care. Sunny was just Sunny, and that's it.
Omori will be there to cut down all the horrors terrorizing his dreams, no matter what.
Three Days Left.
He went outside for the first time in years.
Omori only knew that because the Dreamer couldn't stop thinking about it. Several excited and anxious thoughts and memories flowed into his avatar's head as said avatar simply stood around White Space, staring at the lightbulb...or would it be called a darkbulb in this case? Whatever it was, it was glowing darker than usual…if that was even possible.
If it weren't for the Dreamer's thoughts invading Omori's mind, he likely wouldn't know a thing about what was going on outside his dreams. Part of him liked that he got to know more about what happens with the boy he was made to protect, and another part of him despised the fact that he couldn't do a thing about the terrors plaguing that boy outside of his dreams.
He decided to never look at himself through a mirror ever again after learning that his Dreamer saw something behind him on several nights.
The fact that he went outside wasn't too bad a thing to Omori, despite him feeling some sort of pit in his stomach at the thought of it…He couldn’t describe the feeling in words. It was as if something was wrong with it, as if his counterpart shouldn’t leave the house for some selfish reason…
But objectively, it really wasn’t all that bad, he thought. While yes, it meant that the Dreamer would be interacting with his old friends again and perhaps getting a chance to remember...certain things, that chance is a very low one, given the circumstances. And it seemed to have made him happy, at least for a little bit.
Everything was okay.
So he let it slide for the time being.
He began to regret letting it slide.
First, there was the train ride to the Orange Oasis, which up until then was not meant to be filled with Strangers, and most certainly not supposed to have a Dorothi running around in it. Those things were meant to be kept far, far from Headspace. How in the world did it get out to the train , of all places?
Trying to comfort his dream friends after a sequence like that proved difficult, but he eventually got them–and by extension, his equally as terrified Dreamer–distracted by the brown sugar-coated land. Omori hadn't visited this area with every loop, only saving it for whenever he actually felt like it, which wasn't any often...give or take until around a year ago.
What can he say, an extra area with extra fun for the others wasn’t any easy to pass up on.
Second, there was Something popping up everywhere throughout the gang's adventure exploring Headspace. It didn't deserve a proper name; the only reason its variants got those was because Omori needed some way to differentiate them from each other and the original.
One time in the Vast Forest, another in the flower boy's household, another time in Otherworld...several times, if you include that moment in the barn. Omori was disappointed with himself for falling for the Stranger leading him to that accursed spot. It was fine, though. Just a single mess-up that his Dreamer will surely forget about in due time.
Yet another time in the Pyrefly Forest, in a hidden area full of spider cats. The Dreamer had just conquered his fear of spiders (almost too quickly at that), so the cat beasts weren't all that much of a bother, but it appeared that seeing the blob entity in part of the area got him to take control for a moment to explore deeper into this hidden area...eventually leading him to the Lost Forest.
While the Lost Forest wasn't necessarily a bad area to go into...its only resident provided some hints and questions the Dreamer wanted to know about. Which was pretty close to the levels of the Stranger(s) leading him to bits and pieces of the truth.
Which in of itself is what Omori was made to keep him away from.
It's in his nature to despise those that bring his Dreamer even the slightest hint of the truth.
And now that disgusting blob dared to show its face(?) through some vines in Sweetheart's garden. Omori glared at its singular eye before moving on with his current quest.
Filthy piece of waste.
Ah.
He's fallen into the Lost Library again.
It wasn't as though this wasn't part of the routine, the L key was always hidden here after all, it was simply that...something was off with it. Like it held more secrets than what it really had.
Omori didn't harbor any hostile feelings toward this place like he did for the Lost Forest, not by any means. It only contained the happier memories his Dreamer held, with nothing at all relating to the truth. If anything, this would be a place to reminisce about the good times.
And it used to be that way in the beginning, just a little spot where the Dreamer could look back on his happier days, remembering them through the form of text. Every thought, feeling, and sight, put into little books he could read by himself...it was like his whole life was written into several little autobiographies to read.
He liked it.
Unfortunately, however, as time passed, those memories began to fade, becoming more and more blurry by the second. Thus, the library had to be locked away and buried under the Pyrefly Forest. It was only a natural reaction from the Dreamer's subconscious.
...And Omori did burn away all of the books that contained anything related to the truth, but it was for the better. He had to get rid of every last fragment of it some way or another.
As for how it is now...it's like a ghost town: completely abandoned, littered with dust and cobwebs. The only other "new" thing were the white egret orchids that littered the place for some unknown reason. The books were practically stuck to each other, with Omori actually struggling to grab one off the shelf. He figured he might as well see how the text is written now, given how the memories themselves were as blurry as the sight of someone who lost their glasses.
The books' text is almost the exact same as it used to be, the only difference being the names of everyone who appeared in these memories being erased. Omori could feel the Dreamer struggling to remember these moments from years ago, especially trying to recall everyone's faces...He still failed in the end, however.
It was a shame, really...but if forgetting things like this was for the better, then so be it.
Two Days Left.
So, he went outside again.
Just like before, it was quite obvious with all of the memories of the day flowing around Omori's thoughts, and the voices of the Dreamer's friends playing throughout White Space. And these memories continued to flow on as Omori strolled outside the empty Neighbor's Room to go up to the dock.
He wasn't exactly happy with this, but he couldn't do a thing about it. Again, it didn't particularly lead his Dreamer close to remembering the truth, so it shouldn't have been all too bad.
It was nothing compared to what awaited him at the dock, anyway.
Mari.
Outside of her picnic blanket.
Omori's first instinct was to grip his knife as he would when he'd start a fight against any other enemy. Mari wasn't supposed to be the one to greet him here, let alone stand somewhere outside the confines of her blanket. She never was meant to be able to even get up from it, so why in the world would she be here of all places? Either the girl who stood in front of him was a fake...or something was very, very wrong.
She didn't sound all that threatening, though, explaining how the rest of his friends are all gone, and even mentioning the thick fog enveloping the entire forest.
"I'll keep you company, so you're not alone," she said to him, after he begrudgingly agreed to go look for their friends together. "I know you really hate that."
He almost forgot how he despised being alone. Perhaps it was the fact that the Dreamer was always with him that got him to stay calm the few times he was alone...yes, that should be it. You can't ever be alone if you always have someone watching over you.
...How ironic, since Omori's supposed to be the one watching over the other.
The siblings then went on to go look for their friends together. Omori still kept his grip, hiding his knife away from his supposed sister just in case she turned out to be something else. The Strangers appearing all around the place weren't of any help, either. If anything, they worsened his...anxiety? Could you call it that?
Moving on along wasn't a problem for him. His counterpart took care of his fear of drowning (again, almost far too quickly) just a couple of hours earlier, so swimming through the lake became a much easier feat than what it looked like. Mari telling him not to be scared sounded kind of annoying.
He wasn't scared at all, he silently swore.
...Okay, maybe he was. A bit. Only because his counterpart was the same way.
He tried running, just to hurry this up and get away from this doppelgänger pretending to be his sister, but said sister got onto him for exactly that.
"Sorry, can you slow down? You know my knees can't handle it."
She's not supposed to know that.
Great, first she popped up outside of her designated spot she wasn't supposed to even be able to leave, and now she mentions the weak knees she wasn't supposed to have, let alone know about.
Curse this girl.
About half of the way to where their trip would end, Mari spoke up.
"I'm so proud of you," she said. "You swam all the way here, even though you've always been terrified of water."
Nothing suspicious so far. Sounds like typical dialogue she'd say-
"But there's still one big thing you're afraid of, isn't there? Something...a little bit harder to overcome."
No...
She's not supposed to know a thing about that, if she's alluding to what Omori thinks she's alluding to.
An awkward silence grew around the two of them as they continued onward, passing by groups of Strangers residing on small islands around the docks. The more steps they took, the more suspicious Omori felt about the girl behind him. If she's really Mari...then why would she mention something like that?
Unless...
No, that can't be it.
Whatever the case, if something were to happen, he should be able to take care of it.
Eventually, they made it to their destination. Just the edge of the dock. Mari stepped forward, and all of a sudden, a curtain appeared behind her, floating away from the dock's edge. Omori could only stare in disbelief as both he and his Dreamer recognized exactly what they were.
The curtains of the piano room.
"It seems that you have forgotten something important," Mari said, looking Omori straight in the eyes. It's clear that she wasn't just speaking to the boy right in front of her. "Are you okay with that?"
Yes, Omori wanted to tell her, but something stopped him.
She turned away, continuing, "I'm not too sure..."
Something was keeping Omori frozen in place, despite how much he wanted to stop this false Mari from saying anything more, from letting any semblance of reality fly out of her lips. He couldn't move a single limb, but why?
No...it can't be...
His counterpart is stopping him.
Why!?
Mari stepped forward, walking on the air. She looked more like she was dancing on it, if anything.
"You've seen this curtain once before. The last time we went to the lake."
She turned to face Omori–no, Sunny–again.
"This is my stop, though. I know I shouldn't have come..." she sighed, her smile faltering, and tears forming in her eyes. "But it just gets a little lonely without everyone."
She continued, wiping those tears away, "It's not my place to say anymore, but...I hope you're still there, Sunny. I really miss you."
I am! he wanted to cry out. I'm right here!
A blinding light enveloped the area for just a split moment, leaving the boy blinded. When it faded, Mari was still there, floating right in front of the curtain, which was swept aside to reveal a window, just like the one in the piano room. She looked older and more ghastly than before, yet familiar enough for Sunny to know that it was still his sister in front of him.
"Goodbye, little brother."
The window opened itself up, as if it were the door to the heaven that his sister was waltzing right into. He finally got out of his frozen state to dash forward, with a hand out, trying to reach for his already disappearing sister–
"Mari–!"
–only for him to accidentally jump right into the whirlpool that was left behind.
Omori was really starting to regret letting it slide.
At first, the fact that the Dreamer went outside for the first time in who knows how long wasn't too bad a thing. So he left the house for a day and spent time with an old friend (who had changed a hell of a lot in the past few years, just like the rest obviously did), so what? It didn't have much of an effect on his inner thoughts aside from having some memories of the same day replay over and over.
And yet it only took the boy going outside for a second time to really let things affect him. There were obviously more thoughts and memories floating around this time, the sounds of them practically invading White Space, and the sight of them clouding over Omori's vision at times.
It took that to get him to realize what feeling he apparently was experiencing over thinking about it.
It was jealousy.
And as annoying as all of it may have gotten, Omori was willing to shrug it off as nothing...
...but then his Dreamer started thinking more about Mari, and what that accursed doppelgänger of hers said to him.
"It seems that you've forgotten something important."
He did. And it's going to stay that way whether she liked it or not.
"Are you okay with that?"
He should be.
But he wasn't.
Every time those two sentences repeated in his head, the Dreamer's immediate reply was no. I want to remember, he had thought. Something's wrong...no, something's missing.
I have to remember.
But he shouldn't, Omori knew. If his Dreamer knew even just one single detail, he'd fall apart out of pure guilt, shame, and even panic. It'd ruin him, tear him to pieces; he'd be trapped in his own misery. He can't let him try to find anything out. He had to protect him. That was Omori's role from the start...and may whatever god out there be damned if he wasn't going to stick to it.
Hopefully, Last Resort should be enough to sway his Dreamer away from thinking about such things again...even if he did begin thinking skeptical thoughts the moment he saw his dream sister.
If not...then he'll need more than just protecting.
Omori would have to save him, the only way he knows how.
Not even going through both the Last Resort and Humphrey was enough to distract the Dreamer anymore. He was dead set on recovering whatever memories he lost and forgotten, both the happy and the sad, both the comforting and the disturbing.
And if it wasn't obvious, that irritated Omori to no end.
Those thoughts only amplified themselves as he swam through the red stream he and his friends wound up in after hopping into another whirlpool, left behind by that filthy parasite of a whale. With Lillis and Sallis hiding in the walls, watching their every move, voices called out, telling him–and by extension, his Dreamer–the last things they needed to know about the world, how his dear sister was confined to her picnic blanket for protection, how the flower boy had always been led to find the truth one way or another, and thus banished, forcing the group to go on an endless search for him that'll always lead nowhere...and how this has happened over and over in an endless loop, and doomed to reset and happen all over again.
At least, that's how it's supposed to be.
With enough time spent in Deeper Well, every last memory of Basil his friends had slowly faded from existence, to the point where the flower boy himself might as well had never existed in the first place. And, along with that, there was a chance other memories of theirs disappeared as well. Such is the curse of Deeper Well.
With that in mind (or in this case, out of mind), going through Deeper Well along with the Slime Girls’ Lair should've been enough to get the Dreamer to forget about what he was looking for. That proved to not be the case, however.
And it was all because of that godforsaken Stranger, and the other creatures that hung around the place. Those things might as well have been working under it, only speaking to Omori and purely to give him–not him, his Dreamer, cryptic messages that pointed toward the truth he sought.
"With time, what is important will change. You must choose what you will keep and what you will cast away. Not everyone has that choice."
"What if it's up to you? What if it's only up to you? Carry on, Dreamer. You are the only one who can."
"It is selfish to dream for so long when there are those who are expecting you."
"An unhallowed burden has been placed upon you. You have the power to change the future. What will you do, Dreamer? What will you do?"
"How far will you go to save a friend?"
Of course, the Dreamer was left confused by what they all said, but it looked like that wasn't going to stop him from his search. They know nothing. They don't understand a fraction of why he should be stopped.
He's never been this determined before. There have been subtle hints of the truth here and there in the past, obviously laid out for the Dreamer to find, but Omori managed to get rid of each one of them in time before he could discover a thing. Just what changed this time to cause these hints to grow more and more apparent and spread almost everywhere?
The answer was clear: It was either because the Dreamer was going to move out soon, or because he consistently went outside his home for the past two days. One of those two events spurred everything, Omori was sure. He cursed those living in reality for this.
They ruined everything. They took away his chances of granting his Dreamer a perfect, happy dream that would've lasted for the rest of his life.
And he couldn't do a thing about it.
The moment Omori made it to the end of the stream's path and back into the Neighbor's Room, it was as if he got hit with a kind of paralysis out of nowhere, freezing in place as he almost instantly lost control of himself, unwillingly relinquishing that control to the Dreamer, finally properly using him as an avatar again for the first time in forever. Not even a second after, he dashed out of the room, heading right towards where Basil's house was, knowing that it's exactly where to go.
Not once did he take control like this, so forcefully, in the past. It was like Omori's efforts didn't mean a thing to him anymore.
...And it hurt, somehow.
Welcome again.
How many times has he visited Black Space now? 50 times? 100, maybe? He lost count a long time ago. It became part of the endless routine, just like the adventure that came before it.
It was neither a place to survive, nor to live.
Black Space wasn't always such a vast expanse. It used to be much smaller, only having about two or three doors with their respective horrors behind them. But as time passed, and as the dream's loops repeated, more and more doors appeared, each including newer and more relevant horrors to the current time, the latest being a room with a telephone that uttered the words that began this whole mess by interrupting the routine.
And of course, with a certain selection of doors resided their respective flower boys, all banished to the Space to await the punishment each of them deserved. Some exploded into bits of watermelon. Others got something as simple as getting their heads chopped off, just like Abbi's was. Some got to be eaten up by spiders. Many got to be beaten to bloody pulps by distorted versions of Omori's friends, presumably corrupted by the Space itself. Those deaths were Omori's personal favorite to watch unfold.
It was always therapeutic to Omori, watching Basil die over and over in an endless torture. He finally got to have full control over the core problem causing his Dreamer's torment, crushing it into pieces each time he got to see it. If only he could get rid of the possibility of such a weed existing in Headspace...Then everything would be perfect.
But this time...This visit was different. Instead of just Omori coming to visit the dreadful, corrupted counterpart to White Space, it was the Dreamer taking as much control as he could to go through every last door that littered the place, listening to every cryptic word and message the Stranger had to say.
Omori and his Dreamer constantly fought with each other on who could take control of the avatar's body to go through these doors, with Omori winning each time a door opened up to the sight of Basil, and his Dreamer winning each time he got to see the Stranger...the first of those weeds. With each door opened, his Dreamer asked more and more questions he didn't try to answer, as one last attempt to hide everything. It was no help when he tried to jump into an even Blacker Space; Omori had to forcibly stab himself to get out of there.
Blacker Space was not for either of them to visit. Ever.
Red Space, however...that would be an inevitability, now.
Hearing his Dreamer's thoughts cry out What are you doing!? each time another weed was ripped out of his Garden of Eden proved to be annoying. He was helping him. He should be happy he's doing this for him. Yes, it was grotesque, but it's what he needs.
But it appears that his Dreamer has forgotten what he needs, and thus requires someone else to tell him directly. Someone else to save him, and rid him of the pain that will come from remembering the truth. Someone else to finally free him of all his pain and torment. That someone wouldn't be a Stranger, nor would it be that doppelgänger of a sister.
It'll be Omori, stepping on the corpse of his final weed, steadily walking up his staircase made of Red Hands, and seating himself upon his throne of lies.
Wake up, Dreamer.
I'll be waiting.
One Day Left.
White Space never once changed throughout the four long, tedious years of its existence. Never once did any part of it get removed. Never once was anything added. Never once was anything off about it. It was always the same, as somewhere to live for a time.
It had always been a place of comfort, as somewhere to sit down and take a breather from all the chaos of reality. A small little space, just to think for a moment. It felt calm; safe, even. Everything was okay, it seemed for a very, very long time.
Only now did Sunny realize what it truly was.
A place to survive, but not to live.
Only another means of distracting him from what he's been running from this entire time. And the monochrome boy standing in front of him, the one orchestrating it and every other distraction that only helped to torment him, could do nothing but stare in pure silence.
Sunny's eyes still held that light in them, after all this time, Omori noticed. They still carried that small little flicker of hope that everything will be okay. And now, they carried a flame of determination in them as well, burning down the dry, icy emptiness of the void that was his counterpart's eyes.
He had no means of stopping him anymore. They both know this. Omori could only blankly stare into the white void as his Dreamer strolled behind him, taking a hold of the lightbulb repressing every last idea he's ever had, and shattering it into a million pieces.
And it hurt, this betrayal. It hurt so, so, badly.
He could still hear and see every fragment of the truth that flashed through Sunny's mind as he collected more and more photos relating to it, piecing them all together. And now, he couldn't do a thing to stop him. No more distractions, no more hiding away, no more running from reality.
And it ate away at him inside as he simply stood there, waiting for every last piece of the puzzle to fit with each other, for every last bit of the truth to come to his Dreamer. He was frozen, standing there, only capable of waiting.
Omori tightly gripped his knife at his side in...frustration? Anxiety? Pain? Some kind of feeling he couldn't place a word to, just like almost any other feeling that came to him. Some of those feelings weren't even his; they came from Sunny, who grew more and more terrified at what he did as he placed the truth's memories into their photo album. Feelings weren't ever something that mattered to Omori.
So why is he so overwashed with them now?
The answer was simple. He was alone. That's why.
The world he helped create was nothing more than just some place to run away to. It meant nothing to him. His friends in Headspace were nothing more than pawns to him to use. They meant nothing to him. His sister was nothing more than a fake being made up to make his Dreamer happy. She meant nothing to him. Everyone he knew was nothing more than just pieces on a chessboard. They never meant a thing to him, and he knew very well that if they had any idea of what was really going on, he wouldn't mean a thing to them, either.
But why did the thought of that bring along a pain in his chest?
He couldn't understand. He likely wouldn't ever understand. Emotions, feelings...all vague concepts he never could comprehend.
He could, however, fully comprehend the feeling of loneliness eating and tearing away at his heart, ripping it to shreds. He despised being alone, away from his Dreamer.
His anguished thoughts were then interrupted, all of a sudden, by the sounds of happier memories playing through his and Sunny's heads.
Ah...so he's taking a stroll down Memory Lane now. How cliche.
Omori knew exactly what this was leading up to, though, as much as he hated the thought of it...as much as he hated hearing the sounds of all the joyful memories he once tried to erase...
...As much as he hated hearing the sound of a beautiful violin solo, followed by cries of sorrow.
The two of them faced each other once more, both knowing this will be the last time they see each other.
The Dreamer, standing tall for once in his life, still carrying that never fading light in his eyes, determined to see that life through to the end, readied his violin.
And the Escapist, not too far from his counterpart, still carrying that empty, sorrowful void in his own eyes, determined to rid the both of them of their suffering once and for all, raised his blade.
"After everything you saw...everything you did, you still think you deserve to live," he spoke. "What a joke. "
The words flew out of his mouth almost robotically, as if they were forced out of the former avatar's head. They weren't words he came up with himself, but rather the thoughts his counterpart suffered through thinking. Once sealed away thoughts he couldn't handle, now all being let out for him to endure.
"You've caused so much suffering," he continued. "And yet, you do nothing. And so...you've earned nothing in return."
"That's where you're wrong," Sunny argued, steadying his breath and beginning to play his solo. A droning, somber tune filled the area, setting the perfect tone for their duel.
Memories played in the background of both their minds as they fought, with Omori swinging his knife at Sunny, who practically danced a waltz in order to dodge his slashes, playing an allegro every few steps. Some cuts got to him, but they didn't hurt as much as his notes hurt his enemy.
"Your friends will never forgive you." Another slash.
"That's not for you to decide!" Another allegro.
"They'll abandon you like you did them...and that's what you deserve."
"And I'm fine with that."
Those words are only phrases he's told himself over and over in the past. They're not going to do a thing to him now.
"You're useless...less than useless."
Some phrases were repeated more than others, he knew. But he's not afraid anymore.
"You're sick. "
Sunny steadied his breath once more. It'll be fine, he told himself. Don't listen to it.
"People like you don't deserve to live," his counterpart declared.
"Death isn't atonement," he shot back.
And no matter how many slashes he swung, no matter how many notes he played, perfectly or not, his enemy did not succumb.
And so, they continued on with their duel. The more each one attacked the other, the more confused and frustrated Omori became. Just why would Sunny do this to him, after everything he had done for him!? All of his efforts, all of the distractions he provided, his literal life's work, all for nothing !? Why, why, why!?
He hadn't even noticed how distorted his appearance became, paying no mind to both Black Space and Red Space invading his once pure snow white skin, turning it into a disgusting mess of red, black, and white, as if he had blood and dirt splattered all over him.
"Your friends are wrong about you. The person they love isn't you at all. You let them believe in a lie to protect yourself."
He hated this. He hated fighting against the boy he just wanted to protect, to save.
"You're nothing but a liar...And when they see the truth, they'll hate you as much as you hate yourself."
He hated having to go up against his reason for living.
"If they know the truth, you'll never be able to regain their trust. No matter what you do, it will be hopeless."
He hated all the bullshit thoughts he hadn't even come up with himself spewing out of his mouth.
"All you'll do is make things worse. It would be better to just die."
He hated forcing his Red Hands to choke the boy in front of him until he couldn't breathe, forcing another allegro out of his violin to stop them.
"Mari loved you. She loved you, and you killed her."
He hated seeing his creator's eyes bear nothing but pure and utter hatred for him.
"Hero loved her, and you killed her."
He hated sending him visions of a hellish, distorted version of his sister's corpse.
"Aubrey loved her, and you killed her."
He hated hurting Sunny.
"Kel loved her, and you killed her."
He hated only bringing the boy he's supposed to save only more pain.
"Basil loved her, and you killed her."
He hated the fact that only one of them would wake up from this.
"You loved her, and you killed her. "
He hated how much this all hurt them both.
"You should just die."
As Omori's appearance grew more distorted and disturbing to look at, Sunny remained exactly the same, only growing more and more determined to end this by his terms and his terms alone. If Omori was surrounded by pure black and red, with visions of his dead sister and friends tormenting his counterpart, then said counterpart was surrounded by pure white, with visions of memories of his friends that he cherished. Direct mirrors of each other, one representing misery and grief, and the other representing faith and peace.
That light was soon broken off, however, by simply a small mistake in Sunny's footing, tripping him and getting him to fall on his back, dropping his violin in the process. He tried to get back up, but almost at an instant, Omori was standing over him, with his knife right up against Sunny's throat. He was shaking, his once stoic stare morphing into that of regret.
"Please," he begged. "End this. Let me rid you of your pain."
Sunny's response was kicking him away, knocking the wind out of him in the process. Immediately after, he grabbed a hold of his violin once more, standing up.
He steadied his breath one last time...and played the melody he practiced over and over, all those years ago.
A final duet, just for Omori to hear and take into his heart.
A beautiful, perfect song, showing every last bit of growth Sunny has gone through, even if it was only in less than a week. Cherished memories of his friends, and especially Mari, played as his violin and her piano worked in tandem to create the emotional song practically stabbing Omori through the heart. It was not just a reminder of those his counterpart cherishes, but also a wake-up call to just what he had done. A sign that Sunny will never give up, no matter how much Omori resisted.
It was only then that Omori realized what he'd been doing the entire time...not once was he truly helping his Dreamer. He only put him through more pain than every stab and slash that this fight alone culminated. He hurt him.
He □□□□d him.
And he hurt him.
Omori dropped his knife, letting it all sink in as his counterpart finished his song, bidding a final farewell to his sister. He was frozen in place, his eyes burning for some unknown reason. Sunny faced him once more, stepping forward. Almost instinctively, Omori wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. His eyes burned more than before. His throat felt tight. Has he ever gotten or given a hug before? ...No, he hadn't.
It was warm. So, so warm.
"Your job here is done," Sunny said to him. He could only nod in response, clinging tighter, basking in the warmth of the sun.
Only one phrase lingered in his mind before it faded away along with him.
□'□ □□□□□.