#half-vent

Omori didn’t jump. Of course he didn’t – its crazy, who would do that, who would just leap into the darkness, just like that, leaving their friends behind? No one would do that, not a single person. Especially twice.

Even if he still remembers him. Even if he still remembers the blue eyes, the soft smile and the way flowers sometimes blended in with the soft hair – colors are a funny, funny concept here, aren’t they? Every object gives a little bit of its pattern to everything around – almost like a painting. Made with watercolor, still wet, the drops of colorful pigment dancing in the light – everything is pretty, unstable, almost fake. Almost. Right?

And, even if he remembers, his friends sure don’t. They don’t know anything about this way-too-soft boy, they don’t remember having fun with him, they don’t remember loving him.

“Well now, aren’t you just being egoistical?” – that’s what Omori thinks to himself, starring into the dark abyss.

And so, Omori didn’t jump. He went back, turned around, closed his eyes and shook it off – there’s no reason to be here, there’s nothing to see here. This place is going to die, going to disappear, the same way it did before – and he will stay. And his friends will stay as well – and his sister will watch over him, always waiting with the picnic basket.

 “Anyway, Sunny, I’m glad you came over to help!”

Basil looks happy. Gardening gloves on his hands, putting soil into the ceramic pot his movements gentle and caring. Sunny likes watching people work, he always did: hanging around the kitchen while Mari is cooking, staring at Aubrey’s hands while she’s making something out of paper – seeing these things, he would freeze, moving oh so slowly, almost scared to disturb the process. Other people fascinated him. Of course, Sunny wanted to be a part of the process – but, if he didn’t know how to help, he would just watch. Him being a “luck amulet” was a running joke among all friends – his presence brought comfort and stability, his stoic expression radiating comfortable coldness – just enough to stay put.

A white tulip looked a little sad in its plastic, temporary home. Basil said that the soil in that one is pretty bad, not up to the standard. “Don’t worry, Sunny. Tulips are not that picky when it comes to the ground they grow in,” – Basil says, scooping the tulip up. Its bulb is cowered in dirt – it looks like a squid, with the roots sticking out, like slim tentacles. – “They don’t need a lot of light, either – they can practically grow everywhere! You shouldn’t leave them out at sunny days, though, they, uh… Get overheated.”

Sunny liked listening to people, too. Always there, silent yet understanding – he would lay a hand, he would help, he would try to comfort his friends. And Basil went on, and on, and on about flowers, about photos, about problems – and Sunny was there.

“You know… They remind me of you, Sunny.”

 And, of course, Omori gets into another adventure. Help Orange Joe find his long-lost twin? Sure. Show the caretaker at the orphanage some love? Sure! Help a friend find something to make a weapon out of, finally find Hector, look at the stars, find a good joke somewhere, anywhere around here. That’s the world of endless imagination, there’s no limit to what you can do – it’ll never end, he will never leave, everything will be fine. Right here. Even without Basil.

 And yet, something drags the dreamer back. Something keeps him somewhere near the godforsaken hole in the floor – in the garden, looking at dead plants.

“Omori, why are we here again?” – Kel asks, almost nervous. Omori doesn’t answer – of course he doesn’t. He just stares at the flowers, already dead and dry. It’s foggy here, almost hard to breathe – or, maybe, it’s just the anxiety playing its tricks once again. Grabbing the watering can, Omori frowns – the water doesn’t smell that good. But it should do, right? It’s his world. It has to work, it has to, there’s no way it won’t – and so he pours muddy liquid onto the tulips, and he does that again, and he does that again and again and again, trying, desperately and painfully to fix what’s broken. There’s too much water in here, the soil is already getting washed away by the amount – Aubrey frowns, seeing a worm struggling in the dirt.

 Water hits off the gentle petals, crushing them. Leaves go away next – and then, the bulbs get washed out of the ground. This flower bed is now a mess – what would Basil think? Would he forgive his friend? He wanted to help, didn’t he? He didn’t mean to ruin everything. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he just…

 Mari’s body hits the floor. Hard. Omori hears a sickening crash – in a second, he’s already running down, calling out to his sister. There’s no way she’s dead, she has to be alright – she just needs some rest. He will fix this, he will put her to bed – everything is going to be just fine. He’s doing his best, it has to work.

  Omori stares at the mess of petals and dirt. Omori stares, dropping the watering can with force, angry at himself.

“Don’t worry, Omori, they were… I think they were beyond saving.” – Hero says, petting Omori’s shoulder lightly.

It is NOT that serious—but my inner-perfectionist SCREECHES like some cryptid EVERY. SINGLE. TIME…

and i know i’ve kissed you before

but i didn’t do it right

can i try again