[Sleep has become Sunny's default state over the last four years; not as much in this place, but even so. It takes a lot to wake him - not necessarily because he's a heavy sleeper, but because he's great at convincing himself that anything he hears, smells, maybe even sees can just...wait a little longer if he shuts his eyes again.
[He really doesn't like being awake. In his twilight, he figures that everything he imagined with Aubrey the night before was only a nice dream. He doesn't want that dream to end. She isn't beside him, but maybe she'll come back...
[His eyes open. There's someone cooking in his kitchen. Kenma? He pushes himself up from the pile, peering.
[His heart catches in his throat. She's here.
[He comes to stand, then wanders toward the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He doesn't intend to startle her, but he doesn't announce himself either.]
[She doesn’t notice. She’s beating the shit out of these eggs, frankly. The thing with those daily trainings is that whatever’s buzzing around Aubrey’s head gets taken out through the blade, and without that? Kitchen violence.
[There’s not too much mess, although she’s brought over a bit extra, all of which has been dropped in a corner on the side; milk, fruit, vegetables, bread… The lower rungs of the food pyramid would approve. It can’t possibly be just for breakfast.
[Aubrey finishes a plate, turns around, and immediately gets jumpscared.]
Sunny! Uh, hey. [Fumbling, she shoves the plate at him.] You’re up. Here.
Oh, and uh, good morning. [Noting his glance to the counter,] I brought some extra stuff over, for whenever. Don’t worry about it.
[Say his pantry his empty without saying his pantry is hosting a dust party. With some awkward haste, Aubrey turns back to her work.] You can get settled wherever you eat… I’ll join you in a sec.
[Her hand is taken, squeezed. That's where his eyes are. And that's all. He nods and goes to sit on the couch, legs folded up underneath him. He'll wait for her to start eating.
[There's...a lot to think about, and some of it threatens Sunny's mind now, but...it's easy to focus on Aubrey, and the goodness he feels - for now.]
[The hand squeeze…
[Last night really did happen, didn’t it? Reality has always been impossible to question for Aubrey, the way it’s wont to leave her cold. But winter is over, and breakfast is hot. Today can be better.
[It has to be.]
[She’s not unaware she’s effectively invited herself over, at least for breakfast. People come and go sometimes, Aubrey’s noticed; she spends little time at the treehouse herself, but the path to Sunny’s is well-worn. He doesn’t seem to be expecting visitors, at least not from the way he sits and… doesn’t touch his food. Huh.]
Bon appétit…? [Aubrey, with some hesitation, takes a seat on the couch by him. Her crossed legs are as good a makeshift table for her own food as any.
[Small talk is hard, but she’s not ready to test the illusion yet. It’s bright out, today…]
You slept well.
Edited (clarification: she is not starving) 2024-04-09 02:24 (UTC)
[Did he...? His expression doesn't necessarily betray that he agrees. It was a deep sleep, but, as always, he's still so tired...
[He takes a bite of the eggs when Aubrey sits down with her own plate. It was nice of her to make him something; something he doesn't mind eating too...She must have remembered.]
[And so, here they are. Together again. Sunny’s eating, good; only then does Aubrey take a bite of her own.
[It’s a bit awkward. It’s a relief beyond words.]
Thanks… [For once, she’ll choose to take it as a compliment.]
[A glance, idle, around the space. Actually, did he move the polaroid? Aubrey can’t help but look for it, though she tries to make it subtle, like she’s got an eye out for stray food that didn’t fall.]
So… you’ve made new friends here? [Probably better than a generic “what have you been up to here,” considering.]
[Why...did he think to bring Kenma up first again? Sunny's face rapidly reddens; he tries to distract by eating eggs. It's not successful.
[He's getting a little too reliant on texting even when in-person, because the impulse to ask about it again is there now; in fact, he holds his phone up in a silent question.]
[The way he immediately explodes into a blush—well, that’s an answer. Aubrey’s eyes go a bit wide, though she tries not to stare.
[At the phone:] Oh, right. Yeah, I have that now— go ahead. [She’ll fish it out of her pocket, trying not to spill anything in the process, while he types.]
[Relief. It really is so much easier to talk this way. Sunny's been marginally more talkative here than he had been...while spending 90% of his time alone in his room over the course of four years, but that's not saying much. For the best chance of actually getting to share things with Aubrey in a meaningful way, the phone...will help.]
[Mental note made: Aubrey’s never going to try breaking or tossing the phone again. The discrepancy is a touch more strange, doing it in person like this, sure; but at this point, she’d talk with Sunny over tin cans with a string in between. Anything just to communicate.]
Special, huh… [Out loud, there’s a gentle pry. Fond. He has someone…]
[Breakfast’s over. Aubrey sets hers aside, phone along with; she didn’t get much further.]
Hey, hey… [She forces down a rising panic of her own, tries to keep her tone steady. Maybe grounding? It’s not at all practiced.] This place is confusing, I get it…
[Is this a good time to bring herself back in? God, Aubrey doesn’t know. It’s all she’s got.] I’ve wondered about it, too, but it… feels real. [Leaning in, tentatively, she reaches for a hand.] You’re real…
[Think, Aubrey. Is there proof in the house, anything someone else left here? Only Sunny could know that. Text history? If he doesn’t remember sending every message, then those received aren’t much better—especially from a phone with a mind of its own. Maybe if they have contacts in common, but who the hell has Aubrey mentioned Sunny around? She sure hasn’t wanted to. Only one—]
Luz. [Hushed, abrupt; Aubrey sits up straighter.]
Sunny, [more firmly,] I’m real. And if we know the same people, would that make them real to you, too?
[She tries very hard not to make it sound like a plea.]
Tell me who you know. [Intense. Gears are turning.] I’ll find as many as I can. A-and I know one person, Luz Noceda, who said she’s talked to you; I can pro—
[Aubrey reaches for her phone, but hesitates. That wasn’t in text. And if there’s no answer to a call or message, that’s no good.
[A grasp at something else, then:] I can prove it. That she’s real. [Biting back desperation. She clasps Sunny’s hands again.] Can I try…?
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[He really doesn't like being awake. In his twilight, he figures that everything he imagined with Aubrey the night before was only a nice dream. He doesn't want that dream to end. She isn't beside him, but maybe she'll come back...
[His eyes open. There's someone cooking in his kitchen. Kenma? He pushes himself up from the pile, peering.
[His heart catches in his throat. She's here.
[He comes to stand, then wanders toward the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He doesn't intend to startle her, but he doesn't announce himself either.]
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[She doesn’t notice. She’s beating the shit out of these eggs, frankly. The thing with those daily trainings is that whatever’s buzzing around Aubrey’s head gets taken out through the blade, and without that? Kitchen violence.
[There’s not too much mess, although she’s brought over a bit extra, all of which has been dropped in a corner on the side; milk, fruit, vegetables, bread… The lower rungs of the food pyramid would approve. It can’t possibly be just for breakfast.
[Aubrey finishes a plate, turns around, and immediately gets jumpscared.]
Sunny! Uh, hey. [Fumbling, she shoves the plate at him.] You’re up. Here.
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[It's funny. When he drops back down on his heels, he lets out a little breath - very nearly a laugh, that. And then he has a plate in his hands.]
Hi...
[All that food. Did he...buy that all himself? It wouldn't be the first time he forgot a trip into town...]
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[They’re off to a great start.]
Oh, and uh, good morning. [Noting his glance to the counter,] I brought some extra stuff over, for whenever. Don’t worry about it.
[Say his pantry his empty without saying his pantry is hosting a dust party. With some awkward haste, Aubrey turns back to her work.] You can get settled wherever you eat… I’ll join you in a sec.
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[Her hand is taken, squeezed. That's where his eyes are. And that's all. He nods and goes to sit on the couch, legs folded up underneath him. He'll wait for her to start eating.
[There's...a lot to think about, and some of it threatens Sunny's mind now, but...it's easy to focus on Aubrey, and the goodness he feels - for now.]
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[The hand squeeze…
[Last night really did happen, didn’t it? Reality has always been impossible to question for Aubrey, the way it’s wont to leave her cold. But winter is over, and breakfast is hot. Today can be better.
[It has to be.]
[She’s not unaware she’s effectively invited herself over, at least for breakfast. People come and go sometimes, Aubrey’s noticed; she spends little time at the treehouse herself, but the path to Sunny’s is well-worn. He doesn’t seem to be expecting visitors, at least not from the way he sits and… doesn’t touch his food. Huh.]
Bon appétit…? [Aubrey, with some hesitation, takes a seat on the couch by him. Her crossed legs are as good a makeshift table for her own food as any.
[Small talk is hard, but she’s not ready to test the illusion yet. It’s bright out, today…]
You slept well.
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[He takes a bite of the eggs when Aubrey sits down with her own plate. It was nice of her to make him something; something he doesn't mind eating too...She must have remembered.]
It's good...
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[And so, here they are. Together again. Sunny’s eating, good; only then does Aubrey take a bite of her own.
[It’s a bit awkward. It’s a relief beyond words.]
Thanks… [For once, she’ll choose to take it as a compliment.]
[A glance, idle, around the space. Actually, did he move the polaroid? Aubrey can’t help but look for it, though she tries to make it subtle, like she’s got an eye out for stray food that didn’t fall.]
So… you’ve made new friends here? [Probably better than a generic “what have you been up to here,” considering.]
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One...or two. [Three, maybe? He isn't sure who to trust...
[Aubrey will...probably find out about Kenma too. He could show up any moment, really...]
Kenma...
You know...him?
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[Geez, and even that answer’s uncertain. Aubrey takes a bite before answering, teeth scraping against the fork somewhat.]
Mm. Never heard of him.
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[He's getting a little too reliant on texting even when in-person, because the impulse to ask about it again is there now; in fact, he holds his phone up in a silent question.]
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[The way he immediately explodes into a blush—well, that’s an answer. Aubrey’s eyes go a bit wide, though she tries not to stare.
[At the phone:] Oh, right. Yeah, I have that now— go ahead. [She’ll fish it out of her pocket, trying not to spill anything in the process, while he types.]
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kenma
is special to me
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[Mental note made: Aubrey’s never going to try breaking or tossing the phone again. The discrepancy is a touch more strange, doing it in person like this, sure; but at this point, she’d talk with Sunny over tin cans with a string in between. Anything just to communicate.]
Special, huh… [Out loud, there’s a gentle pry. Fond. He has someone…]
What’s he like?
1/2
hes nice
and quiet
we text in person
like this
its easy
+ he likes me
[Sunny might love him.]
he can turn into a cat 😺
2/2
[Sunny frowns, lowers his phone. His face looks briefly pained. He rubs at his temple.]
No...that's not...real...
[Kenma's not...? Aubrey's never heard of him...]
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[The cat face is precious. —But something’s wrong.] Sunny…?
[She lowers her own phone, watching him with a frown tense with concern.] What’s not real? [Is that a question he can answer?]
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[He pushes the plate away from him. He's had three bites.]
I don't...know...
[He hangs his head, scrubs his hands through his hair. It's not a particularly...panicked or manic motion, but...distress is clear enough.]
I don't...
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[Breakfast’s over. Aubrey sets hers aside, phone along with; she didn’t get much further.]
Hey, hey… [She forces down a rising panic of her own, tries to keep her tone steady. Maybe grounding? It’s not at all practiced.] This place is confusing, I get it…
[Is this a good time to bring herself back in? God, Aubrey doesn’t know. It’s all she’s got.] I’ve wondered about it, too, but it… feels real. [Leaning in, tentatively, she reaches for a hand.] You’re real…
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[She's here. She's real. He's real. Kenma...Xie Lian...
[Are any of them...?]
I don't...know which...are dreams...
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[Okay. The hand helps. Right? It has to help. She closes her other over his, squeezing back, steady as a heartbeat.
[Steadier than she feels, at least. The bar could be higher.]
“Which”… people…? [Which days, which places. It could be anything, but Aubrey reaches for specifics.]
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[Grief. Confusion. Sleep...
[He clutches her hand like she'll fade away.]
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[She shifts closer to him. This is impossible…
[Think, Aubrey. Is there proof in the house, anything someone else left here? Only Sunny could know that. Text history? If he doesn’t remember sending every message, then those received aren’t much better—especially from a phone with a mind of its own. Maybe if they have contacts in common, but who the hell has Aubrey mentioned Sunny around? She sure hasn’t wanted to. Only one—]
Luz. [Hushed, abrupt; Aubrey sits up straighter.]
Sunny, [more firmly,] I’m real. And if we know the same people, would that make them real to you, too?
[She tries very hard not to make it sound like a plea.]
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Who...?
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Tell me who you know. [Intense. Gears are turning.] I’ll find as many as I can. A-and I know one person, Luz Noceda, who said she’s talked to you; I can pro—
[Aubrey reaches for her phone, but hesitates. That wasn’t in text. And if there’s no answer to a call or message, that’s no good.
[A grasp at something else, then:] I can prove it. That she’s real. [Biting back desperation. She clasps Sunny’s hands again.] Can I try…?
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shakes fist at html fail
I could have stopped the rumbling (said something) and chose not to
😔. hands you a seashell.
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cw: eating issues
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holy crap
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eren jaeger: guess i’ll go fuck myself—
he (eren jaeger) did the mash (rumbling) he did the monster (eren jaeger) mash (rumbling)
smash… :pensive:
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