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When Sunny is discharged, he walks home by himself.
His mother is a city away, out of reach. She’d allowed his discharge, fretted over him in a phone call: Sorry, Sunny, Mommy’s having some trouble getting back. You’ll get back on your own, won’t you?
Basil is still in the hospital. Aubrey had nearly punched Sunny that day, crying with rage, dragged out by Kel. Hero had just walked out, his jaw set, like he couldn’t even stand the sight of both of them.
It’s over. He’s done running.
Sunny staggers home in the falling dusk, a sinner to the executioner’s block. He thinks he would’ve liked to bring back the townsfolk’s flowers, but he hadn’t been able to carry them home. Besides, few have forgotten the Suzuki’s charming eldest girl, for all they’re polite enough not to mention her in front of him. Would they have bothered with the flowers at all, if they’d known that he’d killed her?
His house is dark, cloaked in lengthening shadows. Somewhere, something lurks; he can still feel the white, accusing glare of its stare burning down his back. He tears off the eyepatch— his eye is weak, but he’d rather keep both eyes open. Sunny’s stomach growls.
The kitchen is empty, bare cupboards and dust. The fridge is already disconnected, gutted and silent.
There is a knife in the sink.
Sunny picks it up, despite himself. The plastic handle is cold against his palm, and the blade of it picks up a distorted reflection. Omori’s eyes, looking back at him.
He can already see his future pooling at his feet— moving away, his mother’s distant fluttering, a facsimile of care. Hated by all his friends, and rightfully so. Alone, for the rest of his life, silent and still, waiting for someone already gone.
Something, always waiting in the dark.
The fear of it rises up like a gorge, sharp and visceral. He doesn’t want it— a whole life laid out, bleak and terrible, a long wait to an end.
Sunny’s grip tightens around the knife, white-knuckled and steady. His heart pounds hard, frantic wingbeats against the bars of his ribs. Shakily, he uses his other hand to rack up his shirt, exposing the vulnerable softness of his stomach.
Sunny angles the edge of the knife carefully. He’s not strong, so he’ll need all his force. The light gleams off the blade of it, poised to kill.
Stains will be easy to clean off the tiled kitchen floor. His shirt is old, worn. Sunny hopes it won’t be too much trouble, when his mother finds what’s left of him.
He’ll die slowly, bleeding out on the floor. It’ll hurt as much as he deserves.
Sunny closes his eyes. His hands aren’t shaking; he’s not scared. He lifts the knife—
“Sunny!”
He flinches on instinct. Warmth crashes into him, abrupt and terrifying, and he thrashes against it— maybe, if he could just bring the knife down again—
“Sunny, Sunny, it’s me, please—!“
Kel?
He stops struggling. Sunny can feel warmth pressed along his back, curving into him, soft jersey material on the back of his arms. Kel’s arms are around him, one looped around his stomach, another on the hand holding the knife.
Kel’s hands are bigger than his, Sunny thinks distantly. His tanned fingers go all the way around his bony wrist, burning like a brand, gentle warmth that he doesn’t deserve. He tries to tug his hand free, but Kel’s grip is firm.
“Sunny,” Kel breathes. “What the hell are you doing?”
He sounds horrified, like he’d just— well, like he’d just walked in on Sunny trying to kill himself. Which. He had.
Sunny’s ears are ringing, prickling numbness spreading up, sinking into his bones.
“Go away, Kel,” he says. His own voice is a faraway echo, lost in the fog.
Kel curls tighter into him, burying his head into the crook of Sunny’s neck, like he’s trying to shield him. Sunny doesn’t need protecting; all he’s ever done is destroy. Monster, deserter, murderer.
“Sunny…” Kel’s voice trembles. “Let go of the knife.”
He doesn’t want to. If he doesn’t do it now, he’ll never do it again, and he deserves it, deserves it all. He hates himself, hates how he just— ran, all these years, shut up in his skull playing empty make-believe, while all his friends suffered for him— with Aubrey’s rage and Basil’s fear, Hero’s heartbreak and Kel’s brittle cheer.
His hands are red with her blood, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry, he knows he’s done enough damage, he just wants to die.
“Sunny…” the other chokes out. Kel is shaking against him, his breath catching, rattling out. Wetness seeps into the cloth of his shirt, and Sunny jerks, his knife falling from nerveless fingers.
Kel’s crying. Sunny’s throat is scraped raw from his broken words, wet salt on his swollen tongue. Oh. He’s crying, too.
The other hugs him tighter for a moment, like he’s trying to force warmth and happiness into Sunny’s body. His hand is still around Sunny’s wrist, a finger pressed to the fluttering pulse, making sure.
Sunny holds himself stiff, his arms tucked against himself like a wounded bird. If he lets himself hug Kel back, he might never let go again.
After an age, the other takes a deep breath, and steps away, scrubbing determinedly at his face. He’s still got his fingers tangled into Sunny’s, holding onto him.
“You’re freezing,” Kel says, frowning. He takes both of Sunny’s hands into his, rubbing up his arms, trying to coax warmth back into him. Against his chilled skin, Kel’s touch is like fire, shocking warmth into his very fingertips.
“Have you eaten anything? When was the last time you ate?”
Sunny shakes his head wearily. He doesn’t want to pull his hands away from Kel’s to try and sign, and the words are gone, again. He shrugs, helplessly.
Kel makes a noise of understanding. The boy rummages in his pockets, and produces a phone, pressing it into Sunny’s hands. It’s opened to a flickering cursor, a blank screen. The light is enough to trigger a dull, pounding headache, a painful scratchiness at his injured eye. He should’ve worn his eyepatch.
Slowly, laboriously, he manages to tap out a single word: hospital.
He passes the phone back. Kel’s eyes widen as he reads it. “Sunny, you didn’t eat anything at the hospital.”
Sunny shakes his head, and hisses when his headache spikes in retaliation. He takes the phone back: couldnt keep it down. IV.
A quick intake of breath, almost a gasp. “When was the last time you ate actual food?”
Sunny thinks back. Basil, staring at him with hollow eyes, ash in his mouth. Something behind him, in the mirror.
dinner. basil’s house.
“That was five days ago.”
Has it been so long? It feels shorter, between the lurid technicolour of Headspace and everything that had happened after. Omori eats his fill, gorging on memories of sweet watermelon and summer picnics. It’s enough to dream, but maybe it isn’t enough to live.
Sunny wouldn’t know. He hasn’t lived for four years.
Kel swears under his breath, tugging Sunny out of the kitchen. He’s too tired to argue, even when the other nearly drags him out of his house. He’s floating again, cast adrift, watching as he stumbles into Kel’s house, shivering.
He drops onto something soft, sinking into couch cushions. Kel says something, but the words escape him, spun into meaningless noise. The tone sounds a little like stay there and don’t you dare move, which sounds about right. Sunny stares blankly as the other putters away, a bright orange splotch in the blur of his vision. A quiet click, and dim light spills into the living room.
Sunny startles only when the other presses a steaming mug into his hands. He looks down, mildly stunned, to see hot cocoa, piled with tiny marshmallows. It smells delicious, seeping heat into his curled palms.
“Sunny?” Kel’s voice goes soft. “You’re crying again…”
A warm hand comes up to cup gently at Sunny’s cheek, swiping away the tears with his thumb. The gesture is so achingly tender that he just cries more, gasping.
The other boy hums, petting soothingly at Sunny’s hair, rubbing aimless circles into his shuddering back. He keeps up a soft patter of meaningless chatter, talking about Sally, how she said his name before anyone else’s, take that Hero, about basketball, days spent in sunshine...
He ends up curled against Kel, buried against his side, feeling his voice thrum against his ear. He takes a sip of his cocoa, and the sweet richness of it slides down his throat, settling deep in his bones. The tears slow, and he wipes the last of it off with the heel of his palm. His eye throbs.
“All right?” Kel asks. His eyes are soft, and warm, but the pinch of his smile betrays his concern.
Sunny nods, putting his mug down. He gestures vaguely, a questioning tilt to his head, too tired to speak. Luckily, the other has had a lot of practice being the Sunny-translator over the past few days.
“Why am I alone?” Kel hazards. Sunny gives another slow nod, and the other grins easily.
“Hero had to take Mom and Dad and Sally out for a family ‘vacation’ to make up for being with us this week. I stayed at home because I have early basketball practice tomorrow, because Captain says waking up at dawn improves your circulation, or whatever…”
Sunny bumps his head into Kel’s shoulder as the other trails off into a grumble, cutting him off. His friend clears his throat.
“Anyways! I wanted to check if you were okay. The front door was unlocked, so I got worried and went in to see and, well…”
Sunny pointedly looks away, refusing to meet Kel’s gaze. He feels suddenly sick, exposed, skin peeled away to expose the rotting core of him, grasping and hideous.
His friend sighs, a hand running agitatedly through his hair. “Sunny, I’m worried about you.”
He slots his hand against Sunny’s lax palm, intertwining their fingers again. He is so warm.
“I haven’t seen you in four years. And when I do, you look terrible. Like you haven’t eaten or slept in ages. And you somehow look even worse now. Don’t you live with your mom?”
“She’s busy,” Sunny rasps softly. “She doesn’t like being here. I walked.”
“From the hospital?” Kel asks, appalled. “She didn’t come pick you up?”
Sunny shrugs tiredly. He doesn’t blame his mother; he wouldn’t want to come back to him either.
Thinking about his mother always makes some part of him seize up, tight with remorse he can’t express, confessions he can’t give. He’s not sure if he’ll ever tell her the truth; between Mari’s death, their father’s absence, and his isolation, he thinks that this will be the thing that breaks her.
The silence stretches. Kel’s frowning, his fists clenched, like he’s putting together the pieces of a picture that he doesn’t like the look of. Sunny hopes he isn’t mad at him.
“If she wasn’t around then— what did you do? After Mari’s…?”
Sunny doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe because it’s Kel, steadfast and cheerful, who knocked on his door when everyone else had already given up.
He tells Kel about Headspace. Becoming Omori, frozen in a dream, desperate to escape. The search for Basil, something stalking his footsteps. Falling into Black Space. Clawing his way out of the nightmare, facing the truth.
“I don’t expect any of you to forgive me,” Sunny finishes. His throat is sore. He thinks he might be surprised at himself; four years without a single word, and now they spill so easily from his lips, like pus oozing from a wound.
He leans away from Kel, turning away. “I just… after the hospital. I couldn’t handle it afterwards.”
Kel doesn’t respond. He just… sits, quiet and pensive, deep in thought, his hand still in Sunny’s. Maybe he’ll throw Sunny out after all, finally disgusted by his cowardice.
“Sunny,” Kel says, turning towards him. Sunny doesn’t think he’s ever seen the other look so serious before. “I forgive you.”
He recoils, even as his heart leaps, yearning for salvation. “You shouldn’t,” he whispers, strangled. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Well, I think you do,” Kel says firmly. “It was horrible, but it was an accident. I’m not gonna lie, I’m angry that you let us think that she killed herself, that you kept it from us for four years, but it’s over. You’ve suffered enough, you and Basil. And I don’t want to lose any of you again.”
“I took her away,” Sunny mumbles. The words feel like knives, slicing up his throat. “It’s all my fault.”
Kel shakes his head stubbornly. “Sunny, look at me.”
He peeks cautiously up at the other; Kel’s face is open, his heart on his sleeve, his dark eyes earnest. Sunny looks and looks, but he can’t see any anger, or hate.
“It was an accident. I don’t blame you for it.”
“But you’re angry,” Sunny mumbles. It doesn’t make sense.
He deserves Kel's anger. He doesn't know what to do with his unyielding kindness, this unbearable warmth.
Kel nods evenly. “I am. ‘S why I couldn’t come see you at the hospital after that. I just… didn’t know what to think. I thought everyone was finally getting better, and then…”
And then. Sunny winces, shying away, but Kel's hand is still in his, gentle.
“What you did with Basil was messed up, Sunny. I didn't get why you did it and-- left, at first. But with the whole… mind thing, I can kinda see why. Point is, I'm trying to understand. I don't want to be stuck on this forever, and I don't want you to do that, either.
“I really suck at this,” the other boy continues, smiling ruefully. “I’m not Hero, or Basil; I don’t know what I can say to make it better, but— Sunny. I missed you so much. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want to see you hurt, or… gone.”
His hand comes up, pressing against Sunny’s chest, directly over the beat of his heart. A reassurance. “I want you to be happy.”
The words feel like a balm, salving a deep wound: one of his friends doesn’t hate him. “Are you sure?” Sunny asks, despite himself.
Kel beams, his smile blinding. He squeezes Sunny’s hand. “Positive.”
He slumps into Kel, nearly boneless with relief. Carefully, he curls his fingers around Kel’s hand and squeezes back.
“Don’t say that,” he tells Kel.
“Say what?”
“I’m glad that you’re here,” Sunny yawns. He loops an arm shyly around Kel’s, like they’re children again, huddled under a blanket fort. “Not Hero, not Basil, not anyone else. Thank you for coming.”
He takes a sip of his forgotten hot cocoa, and misses the look on Kel's face: quietly stunned, incredulous wonder melting into fondness.
His friend bumps his shoulder, smiling. “Go to sleep, Sunny.”
Sunny snuggles against him, and closes his eyes. Nothing has changed, but he feels… better. Lighter. He is pleasantly warm, and the gnaw of ever-present hunger is soothed. He is safe, and there is someone he loves beside him, chasing the monsters away.
He sleeps, and he doesn’t dream.