#ic. basil

Basil looks at Evan with a nervous but gentle expression. There’s a long pause before he actually speaks, but when he finally does, it comes out somewhat shaky.

“Um… are you asking me….?”

“A-Are you sure that’s okay?”

The trembling is obvious in his voice, anxiety bubbling over. Kel is always nice, always so friendly and kind to him -- he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve that type of kindness.

And yet, here he is, trying to accept it. He wrings his hands, nervously smiling at his friend.

Honestly, he’s not too sure how to interact with everyone now that the truth’s out. Although… it’s not like Basil was interacting much with his friends before, either. At least there’s nothing hanging in the air between them, unsaid, anymore… but he still kept that dark, awful secret from them for years. There’s a sense of guilt in him, no doubt.

Having finally left the mental hospital — deemed absolutely necessary by the doctors and psychologists in the emergency room, he’d been in for several weeks — he feels fear creeping up in him about what might happen. Will they hate him, for everything?

Of course, he’s met face-to-face with the exact thing he’s afraid of not long after. Polly had told him it was a good idea to go outside, get some fresh air. So he’s at Faraway Park now.

"Well, it's not MY fault I keep having issues," he motioned with a vague hand flip. "I'm just the gods' most favoritest boy && mistake."

“… Well, it’s uh… it might be broken?” Basil stares at the vending machine, and laughs nervously.

The blonde nervously fumbles with a piece of paper -- he unfolds it, letting it fall slightly from his hands, and stares at it for a moment, looking between it and his surroundings.

Quickly, Basil folds back up the piece of paper and shoves it in his pocket. He lets out a sigh. He pats the sides of his head, adjusting his hair a little bit -- then he walks over to the boy in black.

“H...hey... um...” He stammers, softly, rubbing the back of his neck before repeating himself a little louder, “Hey, um... E--excuse me? Can... can you tell me where I am? I think... I think I’m a bit... lost...”

@daymiire // asks

Basil’s eyes very quickly shift from looking at Sunny’s face to looking at his freshly bandaged broken arm, and a look of shock colors his face.

“What hap… happened?” He asks, darting over to the other, “Are you okay?”

at the bottom of everything, theres a white piece of paper. it reads, simply "Happy birthday, Basil. My best friend. ― Sunny."

It seems Basil wasn't the only one who didn't forget.

@daymiire // asks: always accepting!

Though he didn’t intend to make his current feelings well known, the black wrapped box surely and quickly makes it into Basil’s hands. He delicately opens it, slowly going through its contents. Perhaps it is a bit comforting to know that someone else had been thinking of him, even though birthdays could be so… Well.

The inside of the long, purple box— lovingly separated seeds in small bags, the names of each plant on the lip of them. The contents of the laptop— all of the images and text, carefully curated just for him.

Yes, certainly, someone else had remembered.

The rather sullen expression Basil had been wearing slowly turns to a small smile as he tenderly looks through all of the things he’s obtained — even more so when he reads the note on the white piece of paper in the bottom of the box.

‘Happy birthday, Basil. My best friend.

—Sunny’