#postgame tbd.

[nitenife]

@dear-hikikomari said: " Don't go. Please. I... I don't want to be alone. " (( A moderately stressed college girl assuming this is just another encounter with the guilt-inspired apparition of her little brother? More likely than you'd think! Feel free to add context as you see fit. ))

he’s equally surprised, though the only indicators of this are his widened eye and slightly open mouth; but his outward surprise quickly dies down, and is rather replaced with fear. he’d thought this afternoon had gone rather well… of course a hallucination would appear for him again once he got home.

sunny’s hands begin to shake. he swallows. remember what she hero said. deep breaths. in for four. hold for four. out for four. guilt still builds up in his gut. he just wanted to get home and rest… his eye flickers around the living room. wait. he doesn’t remember the place looking like this.

he gapes, mouth opening again slightly, and his tense shoulders signal alarm. he’s certain he’s walking in a waking nightmare or… dream? he doesn’t know. despite his confusion and fright, guilt causes him to murmur out: “ i’m sorry… ”

[nitenife]

@daymiire said: " i tried fixing this. i knelt down and put it all back together, but... it's never going to be like it was before. is it? " / from Basil!

there is only one realm in which the past lingers, and that realm is the mind. sunny’s best friend, basil, among those memories; a permanent picture of joyous innocence that was scribbled away so quickly. and whose fault was that? ( y o u r s. )

no matter how hard either of them make an attempt, things will never be restored to what they were in days past. not when the sight of basil makes sunny’s chest tighten, not when his voice makes sunny’s skin crawl, not when he can’t meet basil’s eyes for fear of seeing what was there—his own eye occupied with the other’s hands instead. ( what, don’t trust him to let your other eye stay? )

not to mention, something terrible and angry stirs in the pit of his stomach—what did basil ever fix, exactly?—but it is ignored as his heart swells with the familiar yet devastating feeling of guilt, all whilst the red rope hangs in a noose above them both. and if that’s sunny’s response, sunny doesn’t want to try to begin imagining how basil feels about him. ( stranger was an example that you imagined it in the past. )

sunny’s jaw is squared and tense in accordance with the mental blockade that refused to let his vocal chords yield any sound. he does force himself to slowly make eye contact—sunny finds he can’t read basil’s gaze well. then again, it’s not like either of them are going to be easy to read. or maybe sunny is idiotically dense.

it’s a long minute before sunny can answer. when he does, it isn’t a default string of words that easily slips out around his friends; no, it’s his slow, one-by-one word stutter that he uses around people he doesn’t know. sunny now finds little familiarity in basil. there’s some, but nowhere near enough. sunny’s stare conveys a silent apology in and of itself.

“ never. ” it never will be the same—he knows, he’s tried to fabricate it. after all, there’s only five now, and each to their own lives. sunny shakes his head, in part to accompany his word and in part to attempt to shake off the chill crawling along his spine. there’s no way he’s sorting out all his feelings today, but… he can at least try to show he cares.

“ …’nough about everything. what about you? ” what will happen to you? what will you let happen to you? what will you do now?

[nitenife]

@vsself / starter.

the monotonous state of his vast home is rather calming; omori basks in it, lying on the ground with his sketchbook laid out in front of him. upon his reawakening, it was evident there has been too much change recently, and too quickly. it taxes on omori—frustration could best describe his reaction to everything, but wouldn’t be fully accurate. omori halts, his pencil hovering in midair above the paper of his sketchbook. he hopes the white door will appear sometime again too. another thing to ask about. he dislikes being unknowledgeable here.

omori brings down the pencil, artfully scribbling out the head of the ambiguous figure he’d just drawn. he stares at it. red would have been a better color. empty eyes then snap to the right, gaze locking on the figure nearby. omori turns his head to follow his stare, watching. then he remarks. even in headspace, his was never outright speech, instead similar to a fleeting thought; yet it always seemed ever-slightly different.

it has been a bit, dreamer. omori shifts his attention back to his sketching, twitching his hand in order to rock the pencil back and forth. are you enjoying yourself, then?

[nitenife]

ways to say ‘ i love you ’.

@fleurlost said: ‘you like this, don’t you? i remember you saying that.’

his gaze flickers over to basil, his stare is filled with surprise—uneasiness, guilt, fear—as he watches the other fumble with something in his grasp; a gift? it would make sense, considering sunny is to leave the hospital tomorrow (basil was released first) and, subsequently, the town. yet it doesn’t feel right for basil, of everyone, to be giving him something.

sunny hesitates to accept the bouquet offered, but the subtle scent of it allures him enough to do so. pale fingers trace frail blossoms, sunny’s eye fixated on the flowers. he doesn’t know what to feel. so, like all other recent times around basil, sunny begins to emotionally shut down. ( you slightly resist it this time. )

“ daffodils... ” his words are a hoarse whisper, and his eye becomes unfocused momentarily. years ago, when prodded for his favorite flower, this was his answer; he always liked their soft and cool fragrance. sunny remains still for a few moments. he’s unsure of what to say. “ i didn’t think you would remember. ”

[nitenife]

@atenome / starter.

glass breaking is never a good sound. sunny’s eye flutters open, yet he does not move. he waits, listening. he hears scuffling in the apartment’s living room. doesn’t sound like a typical robber. ( half-heartedly joking, he internally jests that he wishes the robber would have killed him in his sleep. )

disappointment flutters inside him. only one month in the city and a window’s already broken. he’s surprised it wasn’t sooner, with the supposed crime rate here. sunny begrudgingly leaves the arguable safety of his bed, silently trudging out to the living room.

when there, he flicks the light on—and finds himself staring at some kid in a raincoat.

huh.

[nitenife]

@eveningmuses said: “Hmm…” the little prince trifled through each of the cabinets, perplexed to find so many of them empty. Even the refrigerator! Empty! He hadn’t seen much of the towns on this planet, but he knew enough that people needed to eat. Hearing the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs, he went to face the sole inhabitant of the house without skipping a beat. “There isn’t much food in here… You should probably fix that, right?”

is it early in the morning, or late at night? sunny has no perception of time at the moment. he simply knows that his parched throat demands water, therefore interrupting his rest. annoyed at his body for requiring these functions, he drudgingly obeys—but if there is one thing he does not expect, it is an invader in the sanctuary of his home. singular eye blinks at the small figure as sunny descends the last step. what, a self care hallucination-?

despite running off what little energy he has, he decides to humor this apparent child. scratchily, he responds: “ sorry. hasn’t been for a few days. ” and a shrug. sunny walks past the child into the kitchen, finding… all the cabinets open. intriguing. this kid is serious? othermart does open early… sunny casts a glance at the mysterious stranger. “ what time is it? ”

[nitenife]

inquiries.

@distancedisowned | Hope: ❛  can  you  walk ... ?  ❜

situations that require social interaction are a burden to mankind. yet sunny did not actively shun others; rather, they simply avoided him as if he were invisible. it's something he'd come to appreciate, for any extensive involvement in interactions with strangers usually ended up yielding nothing or being catastrophic in a select number of ways. and in a new town, there were many strangers--none of which acknowledged his existence. even so, his courage wavers daily; he should have objected to being enrolled in a public school again. ( you can't do anything right. )

on this particular day, he's fallen into a rather nasty trap. it was likely not set for him, but he'd fallen victim to it nonetheless. what a sharp sting a tripwire can leave... or perhaps he is simply sensitive. more likely the latter. he rubs his ankle soothingly, as if attempting to ward away the sharp pain that lingers in his leg. someone approaches, and he recalls the fact that he is out in public. ( you wish you could cease to exist on the spot. )

the person in question speaks quietly, but sunny still does not raise his head. he is deathly still, as if processing the fact someone would be considerate enough to ask him a simple question about his well-being. it is of no relevance to a stranger. sunny finally spurs into slow, cautious movement: he silently stumbles to his feet ( why does the line on your ankle still burn? weakling. ) and makes eye contact with the other. his one-eyed gaze bores into her like he is scanning her; it would not be an assumption far-off. a simple, short nod is the answer to her question.