In your dreams, kid (Ch. 1: Welcome to...fuck, um.)
Fandom: Omori
Timeline: Post Good Ending
Ships: Kelhero (Hero/Kel)
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Summary: Under Sunnyās hypocritical, well-intentioned advice, Kel puzzled over his mental checklist as the bruised house drifted out of sight, now a grey blur.
An assortment of surgery, artery-clogging snacks? Check!
Mixtape Sunny made special for him, covered in little red hearts and a doodle of the two of them holding hands? Check (No, actually, he will not read into that, thank you for asking).
An 8-pack of Monster so Aubrey wouldnāt fall asleep at the wheel while he drives her mad with alien conspiracies and iSpy all night? Check! (Sunny downed three, the absolute madman, before they even stepped foot in the car, but he figured it still counted)
Homework? ...check.
An excuse for stealing Ms. Suzukiās car, running away with her son and "future daughter-in-law", and showing up at his incredibly busy brotherās dorm room? You know, something even remotely better than āYou sounded like you were about to cry over the phone last night and you donāt cry and Iām so worried and distracted and madly in love with you, I simply had to come check on you, so...Surprise!ā
...Heād check that one off sometime before they got there. Probably.
It was a dark and stormy night except it wasnāt.
...Although...no, wait...what?
That canāt be right, right?
The drizzle...You can feel it. Drumming against your head.
No. Tapping?...No, no, drumming. Like the way you drum your fingers against your desk, straining to read the standard classroom clock. You brace yourself for the thud of Auberyās elbow jamming into your side, tender and sore from hours of dribbling. For the buzz of your bratty, grating, girlish whine against pursed lips and spit from a raspberry if she feels like stooping to his level this...cold...afternoon (You think. Or hope?...No, no, think. You never liked the rain. Too lonely).
...Itās not coming. how do you know that?
Weird. Sure, youāre...well, youāre not in a classroom, but it feels wrong, imagining a classic moment like that without its signature...feeling. That woman never passes up a socially acceptable chance to bruise you (read: your āfriendlyā basketball matches).
The sentiment brings unreasonable tears to your eye, washing away with theā¦the downpour (Yes, the purple downpour). She only shoves you out of your seat to wake you up with the shock of cold tile. You're sure it's just to embarrass you in front of Ms. į¹Ģ·ĢØĢĶĢĢ«ĢŖĢ»ĶĢ¾ĢeĢøĢ”ĶĢ»Ģ°Ģ³Ģ¦ĶĶĶĢĢĢĢĢĢĶĶ dĢ¶Ģ”Ģ”ĶĢ£Ģ¤ĶĢ°ĢŗĢ¦Ģ®ĶĢĢĢuĢ·Ģ”ĶĶĢĶĢ„ĶĢ»Ģ ĶĢĢĶ sĢµĢ¹ĢĶaĢ¶ĢĢ ĢĢĢĢĶĢĢĢĢĢĶĶĶĢ. That her rough, calloused hands are laced with anger, or frustration, or resentment, or whatever those trailing fingertips burn your skin with!
The vague, wavy...consciousness? Reverence? washing over you lets you entertain Basilās warning. Her promise to keep you on trackāthe one she half-assed whispering into a crouching Heroās ear, tugging at his sleeveāso they could compare heights and grades?
Maybe he was meant to hear it. Could it have been addressed to the both of them, tied up nicely with a smirk?
Oh! Maybe he should treat that like her bow. Yank it out of reflective neon locks and tease her about it. Use it as a scrunchie and ignore her adorable pleas for it back after practice is finally done with you. Say it looks better on you. It doesnāt.
Hero had addressed something to him, too.
...Yeah, yeah, he had.
You figure heād rather give it to you in person, though, and suddenly, without due formal warning, you feel mortifyingly important.
Undeserved importance is hell. And rude. And unbecoming of you and all your inherited potential. You donāt remember Mari saying those last two lines, but this doesn't seem like the right time to suck at "remembering", if you can call it that.
Still, how is she doing it now? Her mouth hasnāt let go of its smile yet, even as she bends down to meet your stuttering eyes.
Can you bring yourself to laugh at the Shonen protagonist holding the an? The envelope out with rigid arms like itās a fucking rooftop confession scene? No. Not even with him bursting into restrained giggles, like always. All you can doāall your body can do, like it's poorly pre-programmedāis kiss her aching cheeks and tears and tell her that itāll all be alright and weāll figure it out. Together. And you love her, you all do, and for god sakes, stay!
If not for your sake, then Sunnyās. Then Auberyās. Then Heroās (You have a feeling he could use someone to love up there). Then yours, if she can find room in that hideous mess while restraining her grimace.
Her taunting smile stays, positioned right where Heroās should be. A rude, hellish compromise, unbecoming of her familiar all-or-nothing and yet just as unnerving. It glitches out of sight, tugging at the edge of the 2d plane.
The force pulls you and Hero just a bit closer. well, someone had to do it.
The darkening gradient of the sky shades everything but the letter glowing white and your light-up sneakers, taking off as if the allure of the ball hadnāt distracted you from your faint intrigue in track. You think, defiantly. (You donāt know. You canāt know in??? Here, it says.) You think it's braiding, not drumming. Something carding its dull nails through your brittle hair to yank something beautiful out of it.
You need to know if itās him. You need to know if he sees something in that tangled, crusty mess. In you.
If heās willing to get his hands dirty (Sunnyās words, not yours).
You run until you see white.
Kel awoke with a fright and a frightening young boy tracing his fingertips down from his scalp to his back, rubbing little circles as he nudged Kelās face into his shoulder.
Been slacking on doing Herokel stuff lately lol had this idea in mind for a little while now but could never figure out how to do it well so I just gave up on that and did it badly. Couldāve turned out worse hfdksjfh
In case my cursive is illegible it says āBrothers by chanceā ālovers by choiceā lol
