psl / meme continuation

[sadpoem]

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[sadpoem]

Sunny?

[Flip. Flip. Flip.]

You should just forget about him, Aubrey.

He doesn't need you anymore.

1/2

[headhooligan]

[For just a second, Aubrey freezes.
[She’s hurt.]

2/2

[headhooligan]

[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.

[sadpoem]

Wrong.

[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.

[headhooligan]

[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.]

1/2

[sadpoem]

["Now more than anything"?

[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.]

2/2

[sadpoem]

Aubrey...[His voice sounds...odd, suddenly. Almost pitying.]

Sunny's leaving you behind.

[headhooligan]

[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?

[sadpoem]

It's a relief.

[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.

[headhooligan]

[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.

[sadpoem]

So, what, Aubrey?

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.

[headhooligan]

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.

[sadpoem]

I know Sunny better than you ever will.

[He takes a step forward, the knife still pointed at Aubrey.]

You’re all my problem. And you’re all cowards.

Leave. Him. Alone.

[headhooligan]

[She hates the way the sharp end of that blade has her backing up on sight. What, is he going to kill her if she won’t do it herself? She could kick him where he stands.]

[Ever stubborn, Aubrey glares at Omori instead.]

No.

[Her heart’s thudding. If he slashes, she’s prepared to bolt.]

[sadpoem]

Where were you, Aubrey?

[He takes a step closer.]

You’re all so quick to cast the blame.

Poor me. Poor Kel. Poor Hero. Poor Basil. [He growls this name.

[Omori is enraged.]

You’re all so sad and lonely. You all miss your precious Mari so much.

His sister.

[Another step.]

Meanwhile, Sunny, alone, shaking in his bed every night until he falls asleep.

You’re selfish. You’re sick. You only care about yourselves.

Who was there for him, Aubrey? I was. That’s it.

You have no idea what he’s been through. You should just DIE!

[He swipes at her.]

[headhooligan]

[At the first step, she holds her ground.
[At the second, a step back in tandem. We love her, too…]

[The thought of Sunny shaking until he sleeps every night is sickening.

[Omori was there for him?]

[And now that he told them…]

[He raises his voice; Aubrey looks up; she blocks late; winces, audibly, hissing as blade slashes crossed forearms; and she staggers back, not quite falling but hardly balanced. Her arms stay firmly crossed in front, rigid if only from the shock.]

Th– That’s it? [It stings.] You want us to die? [It burns. Eyes and wound alike spill over; she can’t tell which is worse.] You’re…

[Despite everything, a defiant glare. If Aubrey is too selfish to understand Sunny, fine. She’ll use what she knows.]

[Quiet, firm:] Sunny wouldn’t want that.

[sadpoem]

I'm. Not. Sunny.

[He slashes at her again.]

[headhooligan]

[She’s prepared this time; it nicks her elbow. She’d run away—but where?]

You think he wants the people who hurt him to die?

[He’s wrong.]

[sadpoem]

[Not even close. But it doesn't matter what Sunny wants. It's about what Sunny needs.]

Sunny doesn't know what's good for him. I do.

[headhooligan]

[Hey, kid, who let you sound like her dad?]

Yeah? You said you kill yourself to get out of here. You think he needs more of that?

[sadpoem]

Maybe he does.

Maybe he should.

[headhooligan]

You’re sick.

[sadpoem]

You can't hurt me.

[Omori does not succumb.]

I already told you. I'm not Sunny.

[headhooligan]

[It’s very clear he’s not. Why does he keep insisting it?]

I know that. You’re the psycho with a knife. [She knows that’s not what he meant. And she should really stop antagonizing him while he’s not slashing, but—]

I don’t care whose world this is. You won’t kill me. [Not without a fight.]

[sadpoem]

[All at once, Omori's voice becomes quiet; not in a soft, subdued way - it's a dangerous sound. White space slowly morphs into red, arms without attachments fading into view all around them.]

What did Sunny tell you?