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[Door? No. Deeply bewildered childhood friend? Right here.]
What th…
[And lo and behold, there’s Sunny. Kid-Sunny?] Hey. [He’s unnaturally pale.]
[He seems confused as she is. Right?]
Sunny? What’s going on…?
[Neither is Sunny.]
…Alright. [The similarity remains disarming. Aubrey stays wary.] Who are you, then? Why do you look like him?
…Omori.
[She knows that name. But not on a person…]
[There’s nothing to do but talk, so. Hesitantly, but nonetheless:] …Like the piano?
[“Sure.” Hm.]
I have no idea. What is “here”?
[Lest he point out the obvious “nothing, apparently”:] Like, how’d you get here?
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.
[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?]
What.
[Did. Did she hear that correctly?]
Are you serious?
I’m not doing that.
Who the hell tells people to do that?!
[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.]
Hi.
[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.]
[For just a second, Aubrey freezes.
[She’s hurt.]
[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.]
I know exactly what I'm talking about, Aubrey.
So do you.
[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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