[Some ideas just don't pass the pitch meeting! It's fine! Do you think every heck off new card game the daily new hires at Last Resort suggest make it onto the Casino floor? Of course not! Omori's not bothered.]
[Aubrey starts to retort. Thinks better of it. Shuts her mouth.]
[She turns heel and just walks away.
[A bombshell revelation like that would scramble anyone’s thoughts. That’s what’s happening. Bunch of dredged-up grief and suicide and childhood crap— Ugh, she’ll wake up soon enough.]
[The world takes her right back around to Omori instead.]
[As Omori watches Aubrey walk away, all he can think to himself is, "Yeah. That's not gonna work." And he's right! Once she loops back around, she'll find him flipping a rather sharp-looking knife in his hand. Flip. Flip. Flip. At least he never seems to miss the handle.]
[Rage comes back with a vengeance.] Who the hell do you think you are?
[He may as well not be armed, the way one fist balls tight and the other points straight out, just a measly finger where a pointed bat used to go.] You don’t know what you’re talking about.
[With one fluid motion, Omori swings his arm, his knife slashing through empty air and stopping just a centimeter shy of Aubrey's useless little fingertip. He's seen Sprout Moles with more chutzpah.]
[She jerks back with the slash. What she wouldn’t give for that nail b—
[No. This is stupid. This kid, “Omori,” whatever the hell his deal is isn’t her problem. But trying to leave the first time didn’t work, and he seemed to know it.]
[She shouldn’t be arguing with a blade. And yet. Her name isn’t a fucking insult.]
Sunny needs us right now more than anything. [Chin lifted, clawing at old defenses without a damn thing to back it up.] We’re not leaving him behind.
[Just one more day. Just one more day, and Sunny really couldn't keep his stupid little mouth shut? Four years, and he couldn't last just one more day? Is that what this girl is trying to tell him?
[Fine, Sunny. Leave it all up to Omori, then - just like you always do.
[Right in the h—]
He’s just moving. He was gonna move anyway.
[He is still moving, right? Even if a hospital stay delays it. She’s not so naive to think it’d get called off, not when his house was so empty.
[He can’t just say that and go.]
What makes you think you know so damn much about Sunny?
[Ugh. God, why is she listening to this brat. Would Sunny do that? Tear their lives apart all over again, leave without a care in the world? Did he think that would make it easier for anyone? Some sick clear-his-conscience-and-run gambit; he’s lucky he didn’t get punched in the face.]
[He hadn’t said a single word to her in four years before that.
[Have any of them really known Sunny since that day?]
Sunny needs us. [It’s a weak assertion, though. There’s an annoying tension at her eyes, as if they haven’t overflowed enough already. What a long fucking three days.]
If… if that’s what he really thinks, then I’m not leaving him. [How has the talk even turned into this? Why does Omori insist on her… going away?] I’ve been there too.
I couldn’t forget about him if I wanted to. I tried.
[But she didn’t, really; not with Basil’s album in her hands, with Mari so close to little brother in so many. Aubrey just tried to convince everyone, even herself. Now, her voice cracks on the word because she can’t even manage that.]
We… we’ll figure it out. [She hasn’t talked to any of them. Hasn’t had the chance, but even so…] It’s not your problem.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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…Omori.
[She knows that name. But not on a person…]
[There’s nothing to do but talk, so. Hesitantly, but nonetheless:] …Like the piano?
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What are you doing here?
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[“Sure.” Hm.]
I have no idea. What is “here”?
[Lest he point out the obvious “nothing, apparently”:] Like, how’d you get here?
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This is my place.
You should go home.
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Oh.
[He’s really good at answering simply and simultaneously raising many, many more questions. Maybe Sunny will have answers.]
Okay, so… how do I get out of here.
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[One of two things would come as a result of this:
[1. Aubrey would wake up safe in her bed.
[2. Aubrey would die and there would be one less person to worry about with regard to Sunny's secret. Their Aubrey would still be here, so...
[What's there to lose, really?]
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What.
[Did. Did she hear that correctly?]
Are you serious?
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I’m not doing that.
Who the hell tells people to do that?!
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It works when I do it.
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[Aubrey starts to retort. Thinks better of it. Shuts her mouth.]
[She turns heel and just walks away.
[A bombshell revelation like that would scramble anyone’s thoughts. That’s what’s happening. Bunch of dredged-up grief and suicide and childhood crap— Ugh, she’ll wake up soon enough.]
[The world takes her right back around to Omori instead.]
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Hi.
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[Internally storming, Aubrey isn’t looking up—until the gentle noise of the flipping blade catches her attention, and lo and behold.
[She scrambles back immediately, breath catching, eyes fixed on the blade. Even in motion, it looks exactly like—]
Alright, what do you have to do with Sunny. [Fear keeps her voice sharp.]
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[Flip. Flip. Flip.]
You should just forget about him, Aubrey.
He doesn't need you anymore.
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[For just a second, Aubrey freezes.
[She’s hurt.]
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[Rage comes back with a vengeance.] Who the hell do you think you are?
[He may as well not be armed, the way one fist balls tight and the other points straight out, just a measly finger where a pointed bat used to go.] You don’t know what you’re talking about.
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[With one fluid motion, Omori swings his arm, his knife slashing through empty air and stopping just a centimeter shy of Aubrey's useless little fingertip. He's seen Sprout Moles with more chutzpah.]
I know exactly what I'm talking about, Aubrey.
So do you.
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[She jerks back with the slash. What she wouldn’t give for that nail b—
[No. This is stupid. This kid, “Omori,” whatever the hell his deal is isn’t her problem. But trying to leave the first time didn’t work, and he seemed to know it.]
[She shouldn’t be arguing with a blade. And yet. Her name isn’t a fucking insult.]
Sunny needs us right now more than anything. [Chin lifted, clawing at old defenses without a damn thing to back it up.] We’re not leaving him behind.
[They will not forget him. They can’t.]
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[Oh. Omori does not like that. Not. At. All.
[Just one more day. Just one more day, and Sunny really couldn't keep his stupid little mouth shut? Four years, and he couldn't last just one more day? Is that what this girl is trying to tell him?
[Fine, Sunny. Leave it all up to Omori, then - just like you always do.
[Maybe it isn't too late.]
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Sunny's leaving you behind.
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[Right in the h—]
He’s just moving. He was gonna move anyway.
[He is still moving, right? Even if a hospital stay delays it. She’s not so naive to think it’d get called off, not when his house was so empty.
[He can’t just say that and go.]
What makes you think you know so damn much about Sunny?
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[Omori goes back to flipping his knife, the handle landing squarely in his palm every time - flip, flip, flip, with positively no error.]
You've all been bothering him a lot these past few days. Honestly, he just can't wait until he doesn't have to see you anymore.
Sunny's a nice kid. He'd never want to tell you that he stopped being your friend a long time ago. Really, he just wants you all to leave him alone.
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[He…]
[Ugh. God, why is she listening to this brat. Would Sunny do that? Tear their lives apart all over again, leave without a care in the world? Did he think that would make it easier for anyone? Some sick clear-his-conscience-and-run gambit; he’s lucky he didn’t get punched in the face.]
[He hadn’t said a single word to her in four years before that.
[Have any of them really known Sunny since that day?]
Sunny needs us. [It’s a weak assertion, though. There’s an annoying tension at her eyes, as if they haven’t overflowed enough already. What a long fucking three days.]
If… if that’s what he really thinks, then I’m not leaving him. [How has the talk even turned into this? Why does Omori insist on her… going away?] I’ve been there too.
It wouldn’t help.
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Sunny's going to leave, and then what? You're going to call him every day? Write letters? Drive up to visit?
I don't believe you. Neither does he.
You'll forget about him, and he'll forget about you, and three days of looking at pictures won't mean anything.
You know it.
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I couldn’t forget about him if I wanted to. I tried.
[But she didn’t, really; not with Basil’s album in her hands, with Mari so close to little brother in so many. Aubrey just tried to convince everyone, even herself. Now, her voice cracks on the word because she can’t even manage that.]
We… we’ll figure it out. [She hasn’t talked to any of them. Hasn’t had the chance, but even so…] It’s not your problem.
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