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The evening was wet, the faint smell of petrichor still lingering from the morning before. The sun was just beginning to set, the day had lasted longer with spring taking hold on the world
Sunny kept his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked against the wind. His head was held low like the concrete was all he could see.
Cars whizzed past down the road, headlights streaking reflections on the damp pavement. Somewhere down the street, someone laughed loudly before the sound disappeared behind a closed door.
He kept walking.
A grocery bag sat empty in his apartment, something that had finally forced him outside. Milk. Bread. Something easy he could just throw in the microwave. He had typed out a list on his phone — and didn’t look at it again after stepping out the door.
The city never got dark. Not really. Anytime of the night, streetlights would buzz and windows would stay lit across every building, neon signs and shop windows casting vibrant glows. Lines of traffic rolled on endlessly, like currents through a river. Cars filled with people he’d never know. Never talk to, never meet. Like they didn’t even exist.
Sunny didn’t notice any of it.
His gaze drifted, tracing the cracks in the sidewalk, the faded white paint of each intersection, the puddles that gathered against the curb.
The grocery store was twenty minutes on foot. Less by bus.
He preferred walking. The movement. Something to focus on that wasn’t his thoughts.
It helped. Sometimes.
A gust of wind pushed against him. He shivered, grabbing the ends of his sleeves to pull the fabric tight. His hair fell back over his face. He tilted his head to shift it out of his eyes.
A bicycle sped past him. For a moment, he watched them ride down the sidewalk until he disappeared around a corner. Then he turned his attention back to the light across the street.
It changed from red to green.
He started walking again.
A flower shop was tucked into a strip of businesses, between a laundromat and a narrow café that bordered the corner of the street. He almost passed by without looking. Then he noticed the flowers.
Buckets of lilies and hydrangeas sat beneath the awning. Pots hung, and swayed gently in the wind. A handwritten sign advertised spring flowers, written in white chalk with flowers and doodles along the edges.
Sunny’s pace slowed.
Yellow daisies and white tulips. Tiny pots of baby’s breath sat in a row on the windowsill. He could almost smell the damp soil beneath the cold city air.
His chest tightened.
Basil would’ve liked this place.
The thought came on its own, familiar. Familiar enough it barely registered. It happened sometimes.
On a train, in a store, walking through parks or gardens.
Just little things. Things that somehow, even years later, still belonged to Basil.
Sunny stared at a tray of succulents near the door. Then looked away.
He exhaled as the grocery store’s automatic doors slid open with a mechanical hum.
The warm air hit him. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Shopping carts rattled between the aisles. People talked in indistinct chatter as tired music drifted from the low-quality speakers on the ceiling.
Sunny grabbed a basket and started walking. Bread first. Or milk.
It didn't matter.
People passed by him occasionally, with carts or baskets of their own. Nobody paid him any attention. He preferred it that way.
He blinked slowly as he turned down an aisle. The store smelled faintly of detergent and bakery bread.
He wandered through without picking anything up. He stared blankly at shelves of canned soup and boxed crackers. After a few seconds, he realized he wasn’t even reading the labels.
A sigh escaped him, and he kept walking — his basket still empty.
He drifted through the store, eventually finding himself at the season section in the back corner. Spring displays filled with mulch and tools had replaced the winter racks of snow shovels and boots.
Plastic watering cans sat mix-matched along shelves. Gloves and seed packets were stuffed in wire baskets. Bags filled with mulch or soil sat stacked on top of wooden pallets. Bright flowers bloomed across the packaging, colors too vibrant to be possible.
He slowed unconsciously.
Lavender…
Sunflowers…
Once, while they were sat side-by-side in the dirt, Basil had spent nearly fifteen minutes explaining the difference between annuals and perennials.
Sunny had forgotten everything except Basil’s excitement. How wide his smile was.
His expression fell.
A glint of light caught his attention as he turned away — a rack of pruning shears hanging off metal hooks.
The droning hum of the lights grew louder.
A dark room. Familiar, but in that moment, cold.
A face.
A shaking voice.
Metal glinting in the pale moonlight.
Sunny’s grip on the basket’s handle tightened.
The memory shifted violently. Basil crying. His own throat burning. How his feet wouldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to run.
And afterward—
The hospital room. White sheets and sterile tiles. Machines quietly hummed beside his bed.
A weight on his chest.
Faces burned into his memories. Tears. Anger. Disbelief.
Basil smiled despite it all.
And then he left…
Not just the room— everything.
Sunny snapped his head away.
His reflection stared back at him from the glossy tiled floor.
Those days were over.
He’d given them up himself…
Someone pushed a cart past him. He shook his head,moving down the aisle again without taking anything.
His basket remained almost empty. Just some bread and cheap microwave meals.
He continued wandering through the store without thinking. A jug of milk. A loaf of bread.
It all happened automatically.
Pick something up, stare at the label, put it in the basket. Move on.
His thoughts drifted as much as he did.
He wondered what time it was now. How long he’d been wandering for. He wondered if it would rain later. Maybe he should have brought an umbrella. And whether the flowershop was still open or not.
At some point, he realized he’d looped around back to the seasonal section again.
Sunny stopped in front of a shelf of small ceramic pots in pastel colors.
Then he froze.
Someone stood at the end of the aisle. Blonde hair. A green sweater. Thin shoulders that were slightly hunched forward while looking over packets of flower seeds.
For a second, Sunny thought he might be imagining it.
His heartbeat pounded against his chest.
The person turned slightly. Then Basil looked up.
The world narrowed in all at once.
The fluorescent buzzing disappeared altogether, drowned out by the ringing in Sunny’s ears. His body was locked in place while his thoughts tried to catch up.
Basil stared at him.
Not a memory. Or a dream.
Real. Older.
His hair was longer now, bangs falling softer along his face with a short ponytail tied high. Softer than Sunny remembered. Basil looked thinner, taller maybe. Or maybe that was just the years stretching strangely inside Sunny’s head.
Neither of them moved.
Sunny forgot how to breathe.
Basil’s eyes widened in surprise.
And then slowly, quietly… he smiled. Small. Gently. Real enough to make something in Sunny’s chest ache beneath his skin.
Sunny looked away almost immediately. His gaze dropped to the foot of the shelves beside him. Heat crawled up the back of his neck.
He rubbed his arm absently, ruffling his sleeves.
His chest hurt.
He should leave.
The thought came quickly, like an instinct.
Leave the basket. Walk away.
Pretend this never happened.
He swallowed.
Years had passed— too many years.
Sunny hadn’t spoken to any of them since he left.
At first, he told himself it was only temporary. He just needed some time — a week, a month.
It didn’t take long for it to turn into years.
Sometimes Kel texted him anyway. A short message. A photo. A meme he never responded to.
Eventually, those stopped too.
Sunny had spent a long time telling himself it was better that way. He’d convinced himself it was.
For them
For Basil.
His fingers tightened around his arm, almost tight enough to hurt.
The silence stretched between them. Not hostile, but not comfortable. Something he couldn’t quite grasp.
Sunny glanced back at Basil for a second.
Basil was still looking right at him. Still smiled, though wobbling at the edge. Like it was trying desperately to stay.
But it was there.
Suddenly, the world faded back in. The music playing overhead. A cart wheel squeaking somewhere nearby. The cold handle of his basket digging into his skin.
Basil. Standing only a few feet away from him after years of existing only in memories of days he no longer had.
Sunny remembered the flower shop outside. The scent of soil after rain. Soft sunlight peeking through curtains. Basil kneeling in the dirt beside him, talking about his flowers while brushing his hair from his eyes.
He remembered the hospital lights. A quiet, trembling voice saying his name. All the messages he never answered. And every time he almost reached out, then stopped himself.
What could he even say?
The words tangled in his head meaninglessly.
Basil shifted in place, fingers curling around his sleeves.
Sunny’s breath shook unevenly.
Basil looked nervous too. And maybe that helped a little.
Sunny swallowed roughly. His throat felt tight.
Maybe Basil thought he wouldn’t speak at all. That maybe he’d just leave.
Somehow, that thought hurt.
Basil’s smile had faded into something softer.
Sunny stared at him. At the years that had passed them by. At how familiar he still was.
For the first time, running away felt harder than staying.
His grip on his arm loosened.
Sunny opened his mouth. His voice came out softer than he intended.
“Hi.”