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It’s funny how more distance put between Basil and Sunny drew them closer. Physical distance, not just emotional distance (and what Basil thinks was emotional torture), has done wonders to their nervous system. Every nerve in Basil’s body is acutely aware that Sunny has moved away.
The same is true for Sunny. There’s an agony in their distance that led to them finding way after way to break that distance. For Basil, he takes trips into the city whenever he gets a paycheck from his job at the flower shop. For Sunny, he reloads their prepaid SIM cards from a gas station on the way to Faraway.
That effort makes seeing each other more meaningful. It makes every conversation more emotionally charged, as if it were laden with their trying. Even if it’s only been about a handful of months since they started this arrangement, their relationship is stronger than it’s been in years.
Not that it’s a really hard bar to reach. Basil hadn’t heard from Sunny for four years. Talking even once a year would’ve been enough for Basil back then.
He’s been working on his self-esteem lately. Got himself a library card and started browsing through the self-help aisle lately. While none of the books cover his biggest problems—like his suicidal tendencies, his obsession with Sunny, and his delusions—they do tell him how to treat his reflection better. Basil reminds himself daily that it’s an improvement.
His self-esteem is a little higher than rock bottom now. It’s still deep in the well it fell in, wet and trying to climb up, but it’s better than lying in the water. Most of all, it’s led Basil to finally acknowledge a truth that he’s been struggling to come to terms with: his feelings are reciprocated.
It’s funny how more distance put between Basil and Sunny led to Basil realizing it’s mutual. He would’ve had an easier time denying it when he was younger and idolized Sunny. But ever since Sunny came to his hospital room just to free Basil from his self-imposed prison?
Basil can’t find any other reason besides love. It’s been painting his memories differently, and it’s been changing the delivery of Sunny’s stories. Stories of a world within his mind that he was trapped in, where Basil was the key to getting out.
How is Basil supposed to respond to that?
But even with all these newly found truths and self-assurance, Basil doesn’t confess. He’s leaving the ball in Sunny’s court—he’s justified it by the offhand chance that maybe Basil got it wrong. It’ll be crushing to be told no.
And yet, the idea of Sunny asking and him saying yes doesn’t bring as much excitement as it should.
It’s a beautiful Saturday. Basil is on his own, as he usually is on Saturdays. Polly decided to stay until Basil turned 18, after she realized how hard it was to reach his parents. They’ve changed their routine to be less of a nurse and more of just a temporary guardian. That means she’s off on weekends to reconnect with college friends and do some job hunting.
The only difference today is that Basil is not going to be alone the whole day. Sunny called yesterday to say he was taking the bus and coming over. That’s not unusual in and of itself, but the suddenness leaves Basil’s stomach churning.
He knows Sunny. He knows when Sunny is trying to hide something. And he knows Sunny is bad at hiding things. That’s why Sunny told the truth and not him.
(The thought makes him snicker. He’ll tell that to Sunny later. They’ve recently discovered a mutual fondness for joking about all the horrible things they’ve done and survived.)
Basil is trying to figure out how he’ll respond. Excited, of course, but how when he doesn’t feel excited? Should he cry? Basil’s always been quick to tears, but can he do it on command? He’s never tried.
Should it even be like this? Should Basil be rehearsing his reaction? How silly of him. How silly of him, he thinks, moving through the living room.
Trying to keep his mind occupied is proving to be a struggle. All the plants have been watered, a couple re-watered, and everything has been put away. Well, except for the watering can on the coffee table.
Basil bends, but he’s not paying attention enough. The can is knocked over when he overreaches, spilling water and making Basil curse. He lifts the can and uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the water.
It wasn’t fast enough. Some of the water soaks into a book he left the night before—a library book, something he checked out from a college readiness list. Groaning, Basil gingerly picks up the book and pans out the pages to fan at them.
At least it wasn’t the entire can. And at least it’s not a high-in-demand book; not many people in this town are clamoring to read Mrs. Dalloway.
Pinching the corner of a page and flapping it to air dry, Basil reads the text: “They were going to Sir William Bradshaw; she thought his name sounded nice; he would cure Septimus at once. And then there was a brewer’s cart, and the grey horses had upright bristles of straw in their tails; there were newspaper placards. It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.”
Basil’s already read a good chunk of the novel. The bookmark tucked (and now sliding out) in the back of the book is proof of that. He knows how Septimus’s story goes: he’s a World War I veteran haunted by his ghosts and PTSD. His wife, Rezia, is sure he’ll get better with enough help. That his illness is temporary, and therefore, so is her unhappiness; it’ll be a bad dream, and then she’ll wake up. He doesn’t get better. He chooses suicide.
Is that how Basil feels? That his unhappiness has just been this long nightmare, one that he’ll either finally wake up from or that he’ll be cruelly reminded is the truth. Does he think it’ll all go away with just a kiss?
It’s a silly, silly dream, being unhappy. But most of Basil’s life has been surrounded by a dreamlike quality, horrors that only his mind could offer.
He chased the sun for so long, devoted his life to worship. Unhappiness was bound to come. That’s the path of righteousness, right? And that’s something a doctor can fix, right? Unhappiness is only a temporary ailment.
But he’s at the top of the mountain now. He’s on the other side; he’s the Septimus who was seen by Sir Bradshaw and told he needs to be institutionalized. Basil has already been admitted to the hospital once. Basil has figured out that his delusions are delusions, his mistakes are mistakes, and his future is his. He’s at the top of the mountain, so close to touching heaven…
And it’s not what Basil wants.
A knock rouses Basil out of his trance. Setting the half-dry book down, he makes his way to the door and hesitates. On the other side of the door must be Sunny.
When Basil opens the door, he’s right. Dressed in a jacket for the weather, his black eyepatch, and rosy red cheeks from the cold, there’s Sunny. But this time, unlike all the times Basil’s seen him. There’s no god. There’s no saint. No, it’s just Sunny.
After years and years of worship, it’s just Sunny.
Sunny makes no move to enter, so Basil makes no move to step aside. Instead, Sunny holds out his hands. Basil finally notices the bouquet in them: at least a dozen pretty white daisies.
As his mind does whenever he sees a bouquet, Basil thinks about Mari. At some point, the pair of siblings were both saints to Basil. Mari has been sanctified by death, her memory immortalized as a good person. The bad memories become blurry, and she’s an angel watching over the town.
But Sunny? Oh, sweet Sunny is no saint. He’s here, holding flowers for another boy, and he doesn’t even know he fell from sainthood in Basil’s mind.
“I’ve been trying to find the right way to say this for a while,” Sunny breathes. Vapor blossoms in front of his baby pink chapped lips before fading away. “But I don’t think there is one.”
“Yeah?” Moving to let the door close behind him and rubbing his arms, Basil turns his head. So I’m right. For once in my life, I’m right.
“Yeah.” Sunny nods, his gaze dropping to their shoes. Basil lets him. “You deserve the best, but…all I have is this. Just me telling you that I love you. And that I’ve loved you for a long time. And…that I want to spend my life with you. And it’d be nice if you felt the same.”
Once upon a time, a boy named Basil had no friends. And then that boy fell in love with his best friend. At the end of this story, his best friend confesses his love to Basil.
And despite his earlier questioning, Basil’s heart starts to pound against his chest. It’s anticlimactic to want someone so fucking badly for so many years and to have his feelings presented to you in a few clipped sentences. At the same time, it’s exhilarating because it’s Sunny, who doesn’t know how to express his emotions.
Basil is head over heels; he always has been. He doesn’t even need to rub his arms; he’s warm all over. He’s chased Sunny for so long, and now Sunny is standing in front of him, returning that chase. It’s better than he ever could’ve imagined.
“What are you talking about?” Basil, not feeling brave enough to tilt Sunny’s chin up, reaches to finger the outline of the daisies. “Of course I want to spend my life with you.”
Still pink, Sunny looks up. He looks like a prince right now. “Yeah? Then…will you go on a date with me?”
The question Basil has dreamed of being asked. For as long as Basil loved Sunny, that question was always a pipe dream. He never even allowed himself to imagine responding.
But now, like a warning, his head echoes with, ‘It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.’
Septimus has a session with Sir Bradshaw. Being unhappy would be a thing of the past. But that’s not how the story ends.
Sunny confesses to Basil. Being unhappy would be a thing of the past. Is that how the story will end?
Is that how Basil wants the story to go?
But the fact that Basil is questioning what he’s dreamed of hearing is more than enough of an answer. The worshipper of the sun covered his eyes when the sun finally arrived. Because he’s had a revelation.
It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy. But it’s even sillier to think love alone can save them from their monsters.
“No,” Basil whispers.
It hangs between them like nooses around their necks. But with every breath, it becomes looser around Basil’s neck.
“No?” Sunny repeats, voice barely audible. The bouquet hangs at his side.
Their eyes meet. Basil withdraws his hand to lace his fingers over his chest, almost like he’s praying. In a way, he is. “I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t know what to do with myself,” Basil says. “So I want to do this right. No, I need to do this right. We could easily feed into each other and make ourselves worse, but…I can’t have that.”
Sunny frowns, like he can’t imagine how that could happen. Or maybe, because he knows it’s the truth.
“I want us,” Basil continues, “and I want our friends too. I love you, but…being with you would end badly.”
“That’s not fair.” Sunny’s lip trembles like he’s about to cry. Knives stab at Basil’s stomach for distressing Sunny, but he can’t do anything about it. “That’s not fair, Basil.”
All Basil can do is smile gently.
“No, it’s not. But I’ve waited before. If you love me, you’ll wait too.” Sunny flinches at those words, a tear slipping. With a throat-squeezing, Basil finally reaches for him. He uses the back of his finger to wipe at the corner of his eye. “You’ll let me make sure we survive this. Because I want you for forever.”
Sunny leans into Basil’s touch (as if Basil could ever pull away.) “I’ve already loved you that long.”
Basil’s hand trembles, but doesn’t falter. It slides down to cup Sunny’s cheek, forcing his gaze up. “Then…I guess we’ll do it all over again,” he whispers. “We’ll fall in love all over again. Get to know each other and get better. And then…we can have that forever.”
When Sunny looks down, Basil withdraws his hand. Gives him space, because he knows this is the last thing Sunny expected. And maybe Sunny will be angry. That after all this time, that after all the shit Basil did, he said no. Would it be justified? How would Basil face that anger? Could he?
But there’s no anger.
Sunny just holds up his pinky. “Okay. Hi, Basil. I’m Sunny.”
Basil looks down. They’ve made so many promises to each other over the years. Basil promised Sunny that if Kel tried to eat his chocolate, then he’d stop Kel. Sunny promised Basil that he would save him a swing seat at the playground. Basil promised Sunny that he’d never feel like an alien. Sunny promised Basil that he’d never leave.
The biggest promise of all is the one they couldn’t keep. That they’d be there for each other. And Basil’s made as much peace as he can with it. With the fact that Sunny left him, even if he didn’t mean to. It was on Basil’s shoulders to carry a secret that they didn’t even keep in the end. The promises didn’t last.
Maybe a pinky promise will be easier to keep.
Basil hooks his finger around Sunny’s. “Hi, Sunny. I’m Basil.”
And because Basil loves Sunny; because Basil has waited a lifetime for this; because Basil has wanted Sunny for a lifetime; because Basil is greedy; because Basil is selfish; because Basil wants nothing more than him and him alone; because Basil loves Sunny and he loves Sunny and he loves Sunny; because of all this, Basil lifts his hand along with Sunny’s and leans forward.
He presses a kiss to Sunny’s finger. It’s bony and it’s shaking and it’s Sunny and Basil kisses it.
Before he can pull back, Sunny does the same. Basil didn’t close his eyes and Sunny doesn’t close his eye. They make eye contact. Their lips brush against each other. Their eyelashes flutter. Their bodies want more, more, more.
They pull back, breathless and pink and tingling.
Pushing open the door behind him with a slight tremble as though they had just made out for hours, Basil steps to the side. “Come inside.”
Passing the daisies to Basil, Sunny steps over the threshold. Basil follows and lets his mind wander for a moment. He imagines a world where he’s not at risk of going into psychosis. He imagines a world where he’s with Sunny and they’re happy. He imagines a world where they can get married, and Sunny will cross that threshold being carried in Basil’s arms.
It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy.
But being happy? Basil doesn’t care how silly or how unlikely it is for them. It won’t be a dream one day.
Today, though, he’s just going to sit down and read comics with Sunny. He’s going to fall in love with Sunny all over again. Not the saint or god he made in his head, but the boy who’s impatiently calling for Basil to hurry up and come inside, because it’s getting cold, and Sunny noticed something new in the comics that he has to show Basil.
With a smile, Basil goes after his boy.