Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s Wednesday afternoon and she’s sat on Kim’s kitchen counter, staring at the oven; Kim herself is over by the sink. 

“Why are you even washing those?” Aubrey asks. 

Kim grumbles and sets aside another plate. “Mom wants me to.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes, but knows better than to protest by now. The sound of running water is soothing, anyway. She lets her head tip back, kicks her socked feet against the cupboard, thinks of nothing at all. 

She’s been doing a lot of that, recently. It’s probably for the best. She’s just been so… so tired since she found out the truth about Mari. She hasn’t seen Sunny since then—and not even for lack of trying. If she hadn’t heard from Basil that he sometimes checks in, she might think he’d dropped off the face of the earth. 

Basil, as well—that’s a tricky one. Not to even mention Hero. Somehow, Kel has become her closest ally in attempting to sort through all the mess that Sunny left behind when he moved. 

‘Nothing at all’... ha. Who does she think she’s kidding? 

Kim places the last plate next to the sink, uncharacteristically gentle. 

“Thinking?” she says. It’s barely a question.

“Yeah.”

Kim turns and leans back against the counter next to the sink. “Feel like telling me what about?”

Aubrey sighs. Kim has probably heard her talk about this to absolute death by now. 

“Mari,” she says, hoping that’s closed off enough.

“Hm.” Kim turns back to the sink. “She…” The sentence drops, still dangerously open, like a live wire.

It’s a delicate dance, especially these days. Aubrey thinks of all the ways that sentence could end, deliberately coming up short of what Kim—probably—wanted to say. 

“Made amazing cookies,” Aubrey jokingly completes. 

Predictably, Kim perks up at this. “Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “I thought sandwich guy was the cook.”

“Nah… I mean, yeah, most of the time, but Mari’s cookies were something else.” Despite herself, Aubrey smiles. “Hero used to say it’s because they were baked with love.”

“Oh.”

“I miss them.”

Silence. Kim is still facing away from her. Aubrey tries to let the quiet settle comfortably and not second guess what Kim is about to say. 

“Maybe you could, uh, try recreating them?” Kim scratches at the shaved side of her head. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

The silence is stretched thin, now. Aubrey’s getting a handle on her temper, she is, but something about this is scraping up against a nerve she didn’t even know existed. Intense rage, intense sorrow, wells up in her gut. She breathes deeply. 

Kim glances around at her and winces. “Or, I guess not. S’just an idea, you know? No need to dwell on it.”

Deep, deep breaths, Aubrey . It’s well meant. And maybe… maybe Mari would—

No, nope, no. She’s not like that, as much as she wants to be. She just can’t do what she did, can’t be who she was. 

“Uh… seriously, Aubrey, you okay?”

“Fine,” Aubrey snaps, then barely suppresses a grimace. She clears her throat. “Fine, definitely fine.”

“Okay.” Kim’s smile comes out for a brief second. “Nice.”

For a moment, it is silent; Aubrey tries not to fidget. “I—” 

“You wanna go hang out at the park?”

On second thought, she absolutely does. She thinks she’s exhausted her quota of emotional talks for the day; she’s glad Kim is on the same wavelength. 

She smiles back, tries not to grit her teeth too much, tries for that carefree feeling that lived in her when Mari was there. “Sounds good to me.”

Trying may not be working, but trying really is all she has.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the evening, though—or even the entire next day. Kim can be brutally insightful when she wants to be. 

Because Aubrey does want to try making Mari’s cookies. She remembers how they made her feel, how they were more than just food; an extension of Mari’s love, maybe even Mari herself. 

Aubrey misses her. 

And, sue her, she wants to make the damn cookies.

Exactly two days later, she looks up some recipes online; she notes down rough quantities and baking times. She wishes she could ask someone what Mari’s recipe was, but Sunny is barely contactable, and it feels like a few bridges too far to ask for Hero’s opinion. Maybe some other time. Maybe when it isn’t so raw. 

Exactly three days later, she finds herself in the baking aisle of Othermart. And it’s here, staring up at the range of flours that she remembers that baking is… kinda difficult. Mari tried to teach them all her cookie recipe once, with varying degrees of success; Aubrey thinks she made something decent, but her only solid memory is of everyone agreeing that Mari’s cookies were the best, and couldn’t be replicated.

What the fuck is she thinking? She can’t do this.

She looks at the list of ingredients in her hand. 

She can’t do this.

She looks back at the flour. Up at the ceiling. Down at the list, again.

She is not going to cry in the fucking baking aisle of fucking Othermart.

“Whuh—Aubrey?”

Shit. Perfect timing. Of course he’s here.

“What, Kel.”

“I was asking you that!” 

Well, she’s not about to cry anymore. Small mercies. She does have to exert actual willpower not to crumple her grocery list in her hands, though.

“I’m shopping,” Aubrey says, “for groceries.” Because what else would she possibly be doing in Othermart.

“Oh, cool! I just came to play pet rocks with the fish lady.”

Ah. Naturally. This is Kel, after all.

Aubrey blinks down at her list again.

“Sooo… gonna do some baking?” Kel is doing such an awful job at sounding nonchalant that she almost laughs. 

“Uh… yeah.”

“Cool! Cool.” 

Silence. Dead air. Aubrey swears she can hear the shifting of Kel’s shoes over the drone of the AC units. 

What have they even talked about recently? Mari? Mari dying? Mari dying because of Sunny? Sunny moving? Hero? Basil? The fact that they’ve ended up being the tape holding everything together—them?  

Kel is currently attempting to have a conversation about baking. 

To be completely fair to him, they do maybe need a change of pace.

“Gotta get some flour,” she volunteers. Kel automatically reaches up and grabs a bag off a high shelf. 

“Hero likes using this stuff,” he says, handing it to her. “Apparently it’s all-purpose or something.”

Huh. 

“Do you know what sugar he likes using?”

“Hm… depends which kind you want..” He considers the shelves to their right. “For granulated, this stuff’s good. Decent quality, not too pricey.”

Aubrey quickly makes a mental note of the sugar he’s pointing to.

“And for brown sugar… this?” Kel scratches at the back of his head. “Man, I dunno about icing sugar, though. Hero can be kinda picky, but I don’t think it actually matters.”

“Oh. Okay.” She looks at her list. “Sounds good, I think.”

Kel smiles sheepishly. “Glad I could help!” He laughs. He looks back at the shelves. He stops laughing. The silence rings. 

“Have you heard from Sunny?” Kel asks. 

“No. You?” 

He grimaces. “Not—I haven’t. I still don’t know if I can yet.”

She feels sick. “How’s Hero?”

The grimace drops, and a more shadowed expression falls over Kel’s face. Aubrey swallows. 

“Don’t worry,” she says. “Thanks for the help.”

Kel looks back at her. “I’m sorry.”

She waves a hand, list fluttering along with it. “Don’t sweat it. Take your time.” Kel looks surprised, somehow. “Seriously, Kel. I swear I told you this already.” 

Kel starts to smile again, ever irrepressible. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it.” She does not want to start blushing because of Kel. 

His smile moves closer to something of the ‘shit-eating’ variety.

“You’re so mature, Aubs.”

“What—you—don’t call me that.”

“What, Aubs?” He laughs. “You know you’re bright red, right?”

Fuck! “Ugh, I don’t even know why I bother.”

Kel’s laughter quietens, and he gives her a frighteningly genuine look. Aubrey braces herself for whatever’s coming. 

“Wow, I really missed you,” Kel says, the smile never leaving his face.

And there, standing in the Othermart baking aisle, a shopping list in one hand and a bag of flour in the other, Aubrey can’t find it in herself to say anything other than, “You too.”

There’s almost peace, for a moment. Aubrey doesn’t know how to break it—Kel, on the other hand, has no qualms about shattering the quiet with a loud sigh.

“Well, I gotta go. Cool seeing you, though! Good luck with whatever it is you’re making!”

With that, he disappears around the corner, to no doubt lose at pet rocks to a fifty year old woman. 

Aubrey smiles and looks back at her list. This won’t be so difficult after all.

She’s got the ingredients. She’s got the recipe. She’s even got the courage. 

What Aubrey does not have, however, is a particularly clean kitchen. 

It’s for this reason that she finds herself, as she often does, on Kim’s doorstep. Her shopping bag of ingredients was meticulously packed as soon as she woke up, and it is currently cutting off circulation to her fingers. She didn’t know all this stuff would be so damn heavy. 

When she rings the doorbell, it’s not Kim who answers, or even her mom. 

“Morning, Aubrey,” Vance yawns. “Bit early for a get-together, isn’t it?”

“I needed—” No, restart. “I was wondering if I could use your kitchen?”

Vance blinks. “I mean, sure, but I should probably ask mom first. And wake Kim up.”

Aubrey smiles despite herself. “She’s still not awake?”

“S’only nine-thirty, boss. Seems pretty reasonable to me.”

“Sure, whatever.” She shakes her head. “Just lemme talk to your mom, I can wait for Kim.”

“Be my guest,” Vance says, stepping aside and holding the door open.

Kim’s kitchen is airy, and clean, and bright; Aubrey swears that the counter next to the oven is illuminated by a sunbeam. She idly imagines that someone up there really wants her making these cookies.

“Aubrey! Vance said you wanted to use the kitchen?” Kim’s mom doesn’t mince words, huh. Aubrey puts on her best ‘responsible’ face.

“Just to make cookies.” The bag is still heavy on her fingers, so she switches hands. “If that’s okay,” she adds.

“Of course, of course,” Kim’s mom waves a hand nonchalantly. “I’m sure you won’t make too much of a mess.”

Aubrey winces. She makes a mental note not to leave any mess at all. 

“Thank you,” she says. Kim’s mom nods and breezes out without much further ado. 

Kim still isn’t there, so Aubrey sets out unloading her ingredients. She… maybe overdid it with the chocolate chips, but it never hurts to be prepared! Mari’s cookies were always gooey and chocolatey, even after they’d completely cooled. Aubrey’s chest seizes up. 

Mari isn’t here to help her.

Aubrey is very, very scared. 

“Aubrey?” comes Kim’s sleepy voice from behind her; Aubrey jumps out of her skin.

“Fuck, oh my God—” She tries to get her breath back and save face. “You took long enough.”

“It’s literally not even ten in the morning. It’s a Sunday.” She rubs blearily at her eyes, knocking her glasses askew in the process. “What’d you need our kitchen for anyway?”

Time to swallow your pride, Aubrey. “Well,” she starts.

Kim narrows her eyes. “Are those chocolate chips? And—whoa, Aubrey, you’re gonna make them?” She walks forward until they’re side by side. “You sure?”

She’s never been surer. That’s the worst part.

She inhales slowly. 

Kim side-eyes her. “Okay… you want help?”

“No.” She’s shocked at how forceful it comes out. “Could you hang out while I make them, though?” 

“Sure.” Kim grins. “I get to taste test, right?”

That brings a smile to Aubrey’s face, too. “Naturally.”

Kim backs away from the counter and hops up to sit on the kitchen island. 

“Get going, then,” she says. “This is breakfast.” 

“Aye aye, cap’n.” 

They’ve been friends for long enough that Aubrey knows their kitchen layout by heart. It’s a funny thing to think about; Aubrey pulls a glass bowl out of the cabinet by the sink, and remembers that Mari and Sunny used to keep theirs nearer to the oven. 

It’s probably why she doesn’t want to do this. She can’t let those memories slip a single inch from where she’s pinned them, or Mari herself slips further away. 

She preheats the oven to 375F. In practice, not much has changed since Sunny told them everything. Mari is still dead. Sunny is still absent. Aubrey is still angry, and grieving, and broken. 

She thinks she’s healing now. 

She also doesn’t think she’s processed it. 

The butter and sugar goes into the bowl. Aubrey beats it together until her arm hurts, until her mind smooths out. Mari, hanging. Mari, who probably died from a fractured vertebra. Mari, who loved her brother and her family and her friends. Mari, who did not choose to leave them.

“Aubrey?”

She’s breathing a little heavily. Kim is looking at her with something approaching concern. 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?”

She thinks it over, this time. Objectively, she needs help. Even beyond her initial worry about the cookies’ quality, having someone help her would feel—better. Subjectively, though, she knows how it else would feel. Like a betrayal.

“Can you just—talk to me?” She hates how her voice cracks. She needs to get a grip. 

Kim doesn’t question it—doesn’t question anything about this, which is telling.

“Dad’s taking us to the city next week. Visiting some museum, I think.” A pause. “Sounds kinda cool.”

Aubrey slowly measures out two teaspoons of vanilla extract. “Any idea which museum?”

“Nope,” Kim says shamelessly. “It’ll be nice to hang out with him and Vance though.”

“I bet,” Aubrey says. She taps the egg delicately against the rim of the bowl until it cracks, praying that no eggshell went in the mixture. 

“Not much else on, far as I can remember. School stuff, but you already knew that.”

Aubrey snorts, slightly upsetting the bowl as she whisks. “You’ve still got homework?” 

“It hasn’t been that long! I dunno where you found the time—”

“—there were three assignments, Kimberly—”

“—and I’m on it.”

Aubrey thinks that she’s whisked enough, and goes in search of Kim’s sieve. She doesn’t remember when she started smiling.

“I’ve almost finished the reading, now,” Kim says reluctantly.

“Oh, that’s g—” Aubrey almost drops the sieve in surprise. “Almost? It’s literally only half of the book.”

“Okay, whizz kid.” Kim sticks her tongue out. “I thought you were baking.”

Aubrey sniggers quietly. “You’re not borrowing my notes again.”

“You are BAKING.”

“Everything alright in there?” Vance calls from the living room.

“Yes!” Kim calls back. Aubrey tries not to laugh too hard, lest she blow flour everywhere. 

“You might as well put the baking soda and salt in there too,” Kim notes. When Aubrey looks around, she’s leaning forward, enough that she’s on the verge of overbalancing.

Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “Which one of us is baking?”

“Jeez, okay,” Kim grumbles. “See how far you get without my advice.”

“Noted.” In Aubrey’s defence, she does follow Kim’s instructions. The salt doesn’t quite want to go through the sieve, so Aubrey presses her thumb against it until she’s just left with the remnants.

And then, back to stirring. 

“Me and Vance are still banned from the sweet shop,” Kim says, at which Aubrey almost chokes on her own tongue. 

She stops and stares, first at her cookie dough and then around at Kim.“You got banned from the sweet shop?” 

“Wait,” Kim says, “you didn’t know?”

“How would I know?”

“Well, it’s your idiot friends that meant we got caught in the first place!”

“You were stealing from—and who—Kel and Sunny?” 

“Yeah! They—” The hilarity of the situation has caught up to Kim, too, and she can’t quite get words out around her own laughter. “They were trying to talk to us while we were in there.”

“While you were in there shoplifting.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Why were they trying to talk to you guys?”

“Uh.” Kim stops laughing. “It was when they were trying to find you.”

Aubrey’s stomach sinks. “Oh. Haha.”

“But yeah, we’re still banned!” Kim sounds a little strained. 

Aubrey tips the chocolate chips into the dough and starts to mix them in. 

“About that,” she starts. 

“Seriously, don’t worry. It’s your business,” Kim says hastily. 

An odd sense of relief settles in Aubrey’s stomach. “Thanks. I know it’s been… kind of a lot.”

“Gotta talk about it somewhere, right? It’s not like they’re the best ones to air all this with.”

“Yeah.”

“And like… I kinda knew Mari too. Really sad what happened to her.” It’s as close as Kim ever gets to open emotion. Aubrey’s stomach ties itself into further knots. 

Sadder than you think, Aubrey wants to say. She keeps her mouth shut.

“I think the dough is done,” she says instead. 

“Oh, sweet!” Kim hops off the kitchen island and approaches the bowl; Aubrey darts out of the way. 

“Nope, absolutely not. Go get some baking trays or something.”

“But Aubrey…”

“I worked hard on this!”

Kim pouts, or does her version of one. “It’s my kitchen, though.”

“My ingredients!”

Kim groans. “Fine, whatever.” She slumps over to the corner cabinet. “They don’t take too long to bake, right?”

“Ten minutes tops,” Aubrey replies. 

“Nice.” Kim efficiently covers two baking trays with baking paper, which Aubrey would be impressed by if not for her knowledge of Kim’s vested interest in this being a speedy operation. 

Aubrey doesn’t want to leave her cookie dough but also needs to get a tablespoon; she compromises by clutching the bowl to her chest and rifling through Kim’s cutlery drawer one handed. 

Kim steps away from the baking trays. “All yours,” she says, almost desperately. Aubrey snorts a laugh. 

Only two minutes later, both trays have eight little lumps of cookie dough on them. Aubrey can hear her heartbeat. 

“In they go,” she murmurs. 

She stares at the timer for the entire duration of their baking time. Kim would probably say something about it if she weren’t equally enraptured.

It’s quiet. She can hear snatches of chatter from whatever TV program Vance is watching.The oven is humming gently. From her angle, Aubrey can’t quite see the cookies; she would move closer, but she doesn’t want to sit on the floor. The kitchen island will have to do for now, side-by-side with Kim, waiting. 

She doesn’t want to let her mind wander. God knows it’s not good for her. Mari is someone who Aubrey knew, once, and who meant a lot to her, and who left her in a way that used to be unfathomable—now, it’s just tragic. Aubrey has to stomach that. Mari isn’t coming back, no matter what Aubrey does, no matter who she becomes. She just has to try and honour the dead.

As if cookies are going to do that, says one voice in her head.

Keep waiting, says another. It’ll happen eventually.

The timer beeps very abruptly and very, very loudly.

Aubrey and Kim are both next to the oven in a moment, working together wordlessly to extract the baking trays. Even though Aubrey thought she was too cautious with the time, they’re browned around the edges, and only just squishy in the centre. 

“Can I,” Kim starts.

Aubrey sighs. “No. They need to cool first.”

“Fine,” Kim grumbles. “Spoilsport.”

As Aubrey carefully places each cookie on the cooling rack, she realises just how proud of them she is, and just how discontented. They’re baked, but they’re burnt, but she did it. 

She did it.

The cookies have barely been cooling for five seconds when Kim swoops, grabs one, and stuffs it in her mouth. Her eyes widen.

“Aubrey, these are awesome.” She grabs another. “So good…” Another. “Vance, you gotta come try these!”

Aubrey’s chest feels warm. She did it.

Vance appears in seconds, and after a quick look at Aubrey for confirmation, he digs in as well. 

“Damn, these are great!” he says. “What did you put in these?”

Aubrey rubs awkwardly at her bicep. “Just the usual stuff, I guess.”

“Just the usual stuff?” Vance says. “You sure?”

For a split second, Aubrey swears she hears Mari whisper, “What else?”

She swallows. “Just the usual.”

She gets caught up hanging out with Kim and Vance for a while after that, long enough that she stays for lunch, and staying for lunch turns into staying for dinner. It’s after 8pm when she gets home, so she heads straight to her room. Mom is nowhere to be seen, which means she’s in her own bedroom. 

Not Aubrey’s problem. She drops down on the floor of her room and pets Bun-Bun for a while. 

She was… mildly happy with her first attempt at the cookies. She wanted to go for another try, but Kim and Vance kept trying to steal the chocolate chips until Aubrey threw flour at the both of them; it took a while to get everything under control after that. 

The problem is, she looked at all the recipes she could online, and they all said basically the same thing. So as far as the internet goes, she’s hit a dead end. 

Now, she could try a cookbook next. But she could also cut out the paying part of that equation. 

She hasn’t messaged Hero in three weeks. Before that, she hadn’t messaged him in four years. 

She picks up her phone. 

Aubrey [8:47pm]: Hi Hero, could I ask you something?
Aubrey [8:49pm]: It’s about cooking
Aubrey [8:50pm]: It’s fine if you don’t want to
Aubrey [8:55pm]: I hope you’re doing okay

When she checks in the morning, he hasn’t replied. 

Figures. 

Well, whatever. She’s got shit to do. She was gonna go ask Cesar at the pizza place about getting a job, for one thing.

Not worrying is easier said than done, though. She swears she can feel her phone burning through the pocket of her jeans as she makes her way to the plaza, despite the fact that it’s already almost a hundred degrees out. 

Not worrying is also imperative when you’re going for a job interview. Aubrey knows that Sunny got some part time work with Cesar, but she’s looking for something a little more regular; she’s got to make a good impression.

“Aubrey?” Cesar says when she walks in, looking vaguely bemused. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“I’m trying something out,” she replies. The counter is cluttered—she nonetheless tries to lean on it like she belongs there. 

Cesar snorts. “Well, I’ll level with you—you’re almost definitely more reliable than the current delivery boy.” He carefully rubs his eyes under his glasses. “I don’t really care what you do, as long as you show up to work each day and the pizzas get to the right houses.”

That’s… a really low bar. Maybe Aubrey should’ve considered why exactly it was that Sunny could walk directly out of his room and into employment.

“I can do that,” she says.

“Perfect. You’re hired.” 

All that stress for nothing. Aubrey doesn’t know why she bothers.

Cesar passes her a scrap of paper and a pen. “Just write down your email and I’ll let you know when I want you in the next few weeks.”

In her back pocket, Aubrey’s phone buzzes; she jumps.

“Cold feet?” says Cesar.

“Nope.” Aubrey scribbles down her email and shoves the paper back towards him. “Thanks for the opportunity.” Her heart is beating out of her chest.

“You’re welcome!” Cesar tucks the slip of paper under a glass. “Nice to see you back, Aubrey.” When she looks up, his smile is genuine. 

“Uh…” Her phone buzzes again. “Thank you.”

He gives her an irreverent salute, then gets back to cleaning glasses. Aubrey takes the hint and hightails it out the door, pulling out her phone as she goes. 

Hero [11:25am]: Hi Aubrey!
Hero [11:27am]: I’d be happy to talk, if you’re still up for it.

Aubrey’s palms are sweaty. She feels like she’s going to pass out. 

Aubrey [11:30am]: Yeah, totally
Aubrey [11:30am]: How are you?
Hero [11:31am]: I’m alright, thanks. Just getting on with some summer assignments.
Aubrey [11:32am]: Oh, cool

She should’ve just gone to talk to him. He lives five minutes away. A short walk and she’s at his door, and then the interminable waiting is no longer a problem. 

Aubrey doesn’t know if she can look him in the eye for this, though, so messaging it is. She sits down on the edge of the fountain and waits.

Hero [11:38am]: You wanted to ask me something?
Aubrey [11:39am]: Right yeah
Aubrey [11:40am]: So I was like thinking and I wanna make Mari’s cookies? Not Mari’s obviously because she’s not here but to recreate them I guess. And I already made them once (or I made cookies) but they weren’t right
Aubrey [11:41am]: I was wondering if you had any tips
Hero [11:42am]: Slow down, Aubrey.
Aubrey [11:42am]: And like obviously if you don’t want to that’s super fine and I’ll go buy a recipe book or I guess I could ask her mom. Or if it’s out of line for me to be doing this at all then pls tell me
Aubrey [11:43am]: Oh haha sorry

Aubrey wants to drown herself in the fountain. She’s fucked this up already and it hasn’t even been fifteen minutes. 

Hero [11:45am]: What do you mean by ‘they weren’t right’?
Hero [11:45am]: Are we talking flavour? Texture? 

That pulls Aubrey up short. Because, when it came to the last cookie, and Kim and Vance both looked at her expectantly, she just—couldn’t. 

She just can’t. It’s wrong. It’ll be wrong. She won’t.

Hero [11:48am]: You didn’t eat any, did you.
Hero [11:49am]: I get it.
Aubrey [11:50am]: Sorry
Hero [11:52am]: No need to apologise. What did they look like, then?

She breathes out a sigh of relief. Bless Hero and his boundless supplies of compassion. 

Aubrey [11:54am]: They were kinda burnt around the edges
Aubrey [11:54am]: I couldn’t get them all gooey like she did
Hero [11:55am]: One step at a time. Did you have anyone taste testing?
Aubrey [11:56am]: Oh yeah haha my friends Kim and Vance
Aubrey [11:56am]: They weren’t super helpful though because they love any sweets
Hero [11:57am]: Nothing? You’re sure?

Is she sure? Aubrey wracks her brain. She has to come up with something, or she’ll be wasting his time. Maybe it was an oversight to use Kim and Vance as taste testers—they must be entirely desensitised to sugar by now.

Aubrey [11:59am]: I guess Kim said something about them tasting kinda headachey?
Aubrey [11:59am]: Maybe too sweet

It’s getting hotter and hotter. Aubrey flips her hair forward over her left shoulder and keeps typing.

Aubrey [12:00pm]: Otherwise they said they were really good apparently
Hero [12:01pm]: Okay, maybe add more salt next time if they were overly sweet. As for the burning, it’s more of an art than a science. Make sure you get the amount of dough per cookie right, and keep an eye on them as they bake.
Aubrey [12:02pm]: Got it
Hero [12:02pm]: Apart from that, it’s all about practice. Keep on going. Remember what we always used to say to Mari: they’re good because they’re baked with love.
Hero [12:03pm]: They’re good because you care. 

Aubrey’s eyes are stinging. Stupid, stupid. She’s done crying about this. She’ll always be done crying about this, probably until she dies.

Hero [12:05pm]: Mari would be proud of you for trying.

A tear slips down her nose and discolours her jeans, just by the inner seam. Aubrey focuses on the way the fabric darkens as more drops join it. 

Aubrey [12:06pm]: Thank you
Aubrey [12:10pm]: I hope she would be

She doesn’t believe him.

That’s okay, though. She’ll keep trying.

Thursday morning and she’s back at Kim’s door. She’s starting to sense a pattern. 

Unlike a few days ago, though, Vance does not welcome her in with open arms.

“Sorry, Aubrey,” he says. There’s a clatter from behind him and he winces. “We’re on a bit of a tight schedule.”

“Uh…” Behind Vance, Kim runs across the living room into the kitchen, sockless and messy haired. “Oh, shit, your Dad. That’s today.”

“Yup,” Vance says. “That’s today.”

“Shit,” Aubrey repeats. A bead of sweat trickles down her wrist and onto the bag of ingredients in her hand. 

“Sorry,” Vance says. “We can see you tomorrow, maybe?”

“SEE YA TOMORROW AUBREY,” Kim shouts from somewhere in the background. 

“Ah, yeah, have fun.”

That’s her cue to leave, then. She sets off back home, trying not to feel disappointed. She’ll have to make room in the fridge and the cupboard, and maybe throw out some old leftovers while she’s at it. She could even make an attempt in her own kitchen? Mom was on the couch when she left, though. 

Her gaze travels up from where it’s been resting on the sidewalk. She’s not in front of her home. She’s not even on the right side of the street.

She is standing in front of Basil’s house. 

She should not, under any circumstances, ask to use his kitchen.

As though drawn by an unseen force, she walks towards the door and knocks sharply three times.

Basil’s caretaker—Polly—is the one who answers. “Aubrey?” she says, looking only mildly confused. “Were you going to talk to Basil today?”

It’s been three, almost four weeks. She’s messaged Basil in that time, so theoretically she’s ready to see him. 

Those past utilitarian interactions don’t make it any easier when he appears in the doorway to the bedroom corridor and stops dead in place.

Aubrey swallows.

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hey,” Basil replies, sounding slightly faint.

“Ah,” says Polly. “Well, maybe today isn’t—”

“N-no!” Basil says. “You should come in.” 

It’s really goddamn weird, to be honest. The last time Aubrey was here, she saw one of her closest childhood friends wheeled out on a stretcher—but somehow right now she mostly feels awkward.

There’s a lot more she thinks—knows—she should be feeling. It’s probably why Basil hasn’t budged from the doorway, despite Aubrey having moved past Polly and into the house. 

The door clicks shut behind her.

“Hi,” Aubrey says again, uselessly.

Basil picks at the skin around his fingernails. His gaze is fixed firmly on a point somewhere over her shoulder.

“What’s in the bag, Aubrey?” Polly asks with distinctly forced cheerfulness.

“I’m,” Aubrey swallows again around the roughness in her throat. “I’m trying to make chocolate chip cookies. Like Mari used to.”

Basil’s focus snaps directly onto her with almost frightening precision. His eyes are alarmingly blue.

“Would you… like to use our kitchen?” he says.

“If that’s okay.” Aubrey fiddles with the handles of her grocery bag.

“I—”

“Of course it’s okay!” Polly breaks in.

“Thank you,” Aubrey says.

“You’re welcome!” Polly is still smiling.

Basil isn’t saying a word. 

The silence widens, deepens, expands out into a yawning chasm that spans the entire living area. Aubrey catalogues the distant sounds of herself placing each ingredient on the counter; tap, tap, thunk, clink. The bag crinkles gently until it is folded and placed aside. Basil hasn’t moved. Polly hasn’t moved. Aubrey suddenly feels that her own movement is very loud; out of place in a space that doesn’t belong to her.

She pauses in front of the oven. Without the presence of her own white noise, she can hear birdsong outside. 

Polly takes a few steps forwards. “Well, Aubrey! Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“I can help,” Basil mumbles. Aubrey freezes; in the corner of her eye, she sees Polly’s head jerk around towards Basil.

“Oh,” she says. She takes a few steps closer to Basil, until her body shelters him from Aubrey’s gaze. “Are you sure?” It’s said softly enough that Aubrey knows that she shouldn’t be hearing, much less listening. 

“She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be,” Basil says, just as quiet. 

He didn’t mean for her to hear. Her heart lifts a bit nonetheless. 

“Alright,” Polly murmurs. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Aubrey opens a cabinet as loudly as she can and starts rooting around for a large enough bowl. She doesn’t know exactly how many seconds it takes for Basil to gently touch her shoulder. 

“Let me,” he says. 

She nods and steps back. 

This is another kitchen she used to know. The oven is new, and somewhere in the four years they lost to grief, the cabinets and drawers have been redone. 

“We, um, keep the cooking stuff in this one now,” Basil says after he resurfaces from the leftmost cupboard. Aubrey makes a mental note. 

Basil puts a bowl and wooden spoon on the counter: clink, tap. Four metres to their right, the couch creaks and the television turns on. Basil leans up and pulls a set of kitchen scales from the top of the fridge. 

“I,” he says. He’s avoiding her eyes. “I’ll go preheat the oven.”

“Okay,” Aubrey says. 

She goes as slowly and carefully as she can. The butter is extremely melted from the heat, and goes all over her hands, which means that the sugar sticks to them from almost the second she opens the first bag. 

Basil is by her side again in a flash. “You should wash your hands,” he says, “I can—”

“Only measure them,” Aubrey says, brusque even to her own ears. 

“Okay,” says Basil. 

The grease doesn’t want to come off her fingers. Aubrey idly notes that the faucets have been switched out for something newer. She can see that Basil’s hands are trembling. She can see her own doing the same.

“Thanks,” she says when she retakes her position by the bowl.

“Sorry,” says Basil.

“Why?”

“Um.” He looks away. 

“Don’t be,” she says. “Or let me be sorry too.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He finally meets her eyes. “But I’m still alive.”

Aubrey jolts and knocks sugar all over the counter. “Fuck, goddammit—what’s that got to do with anything?”

“I have more to be sorry for.” Basil looks away. The volume of the TV goes up a few notches. 

“That’s bullshit. I don’t care.” Aubrey braces her hands against the counter. “You don’t get to tell me what to think.” She picks up the egg and goes to crack it against the edge of the bowl. This was a mistake, this whole stupid farce—

Basil’s hand folds around hers, and Aubrey remembers how when they were eleven, he told her that she was his first real friend.

“You should use a knife for that,” he says. “The break is cleaner.”

She would squeeze his hand, but she’s still holding the egg. She settles on saying, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re… welcome?”

Aubrey brings the knife down sharply against the egg’s shell—lo and behold, it cracks perfectly, just enough for her to work her fingernails in and empty it into the bowl. Basil pulls the eggshell from her hand; their fingers brush.

“I’m going to forgive you,” she says slowly, deliberately, “because that’s my prerogative. You’ve probably already forgiven me for…” She can barely say it. Of all the things she used to know, that hasn’t changed. He can’t swim. 

“I… think I deserved—”

“Don’t fucking say—” Okay, deep breaths. It strikes her that she’s unconsciously mimicking Basil’s posture; tense, brittle, closed. “Not the point. Not true. Don’t say that to me.”

“Okay,” he says, and she can’t stop him from thinking it. 

The phrase ‘like pulling teeth’ has never seemed so apt. She adds the vanilla extract and starts whisking, still not looking at Basil. She’s his first real friend. She’s no Sunny, but they used to pick flowers together. Basil was close enough to run to when she couldn’t bear to be home. Mari, Sunny, Hero, Kel—they may have come first, but Basil was something different to her; losing him hurt differently. He was always still close enough to run to—she’s the one who burnt that bridge. 

It’s not something she can put into words.

“H-here’s a sieve,” he says.

Aubrey realises that she’s about to cry. She manages to choke out, “Basil,” and then.

Then. 

The bowl is pulled from her hands and set down on the counter. Her hands are being held, so gently, and this hasn’t changed either. She’s being hugged. 

The very core, the depth of the knotted mess of rage in her stomach, is that she’s lost too much already. She needs to get something back. She collapses into the arms of her newest oldest friend and sobs.

How long has it been since she’s been held like this? Three, four weeks? It was before everything fell apart and into place; she feels now the same relief that she felt then. 

She’s changed. It’s unavoidable that she’s changed. She’s also the same girl who loved flowers and bunny rabbits and sleepovers and winning. Who loves her friends. Who’s trying to make a dead girl proud, in the smallest and silliest and most inconsequential way she can think of.

Basil is crying too. As much as she’s shaking, she can feel Basil shaking in antiphase; she worms her arms out from his grasp and wraps them around his shoulders. He’s a little shorter than her, which is strangely satisfying. She buries her face in his shoulder. 

They stand there until Aubrey’s left shoulder is entirely damp and her head aches. She pulls away first, turns away to wipe at her eyes. 

Basil blinks hard a few times. “Your hair is all tangled.” He reaches out slowly, like even now Aubrey is liable to bolt, or bite, or scream. When his hand touches her hair and none of these things happen, he gains confidence, and runs his fingers lightly through the knots. 

“Maybe you should help with it,” Aubrey jokes. Her voice is still annoyingly rough; she sniffles and rubs at her eyes. 

“Like when we were kids,” he says. He’s smiling for the first time today. A sense of achievement blossoms in Aubrey’s chest.

“Cookies first, though,” she says; Basil nods once, wobbly smile still fixed in place. 

They work in near silence again, Basil preparing ingredients and Aubrey adding and mixing them. Now, though, Basil doesn’t look like he’ll fracture at the slightest touch—he’s quiet but sure, like she remembers him. The TV drones on in the background as they scoop the dough out onto the baking trays, Aubrey desperately trying to get each lump equally sized and exactly equidistant from any others.

“Don’t worry, Aubrey.” Of course he noticed. “It—” He makes a motion like an aborted flinch, and shakes his head. “It’ll be okay.” 

She wants it to be perfect. Of course she does. 

Basil gently slides one of the baking trays from under her hand and puts it in the oven. Reluctantly, Aubrey brings the other. 

She sets the timer, and then stares at the cookies, determined not to let them burn. 

Basil seems to find this funny, the twerp. He laughs lightly. 

“Um,” he says, “I think…”

He isn’t laughing anymore, so Aubrey knows what’s coming. 

“Tell me,” she says. 

“Mari would be—proud. Of you. Right now.” The volume trails off steadily as he continues, but Aubrey catches every word. It settles—not badly, this time, but strangely. 

Not yet, then. 

“Thank you,” she says. “For what it’s worth, I think she’d be proud of you, too. For…” The sentence drops, not uncomfortably. 

Basil straightens up and takes her hand. “We have a few minutes. If you want, I can… your hair.”

Somewhere deep in Aubrey’s soul, a twelve year old girl jumps for joy. She wants to cry again. 

“Alright, flower boy,” she says. “Untangle me.”

basil!! [6:42pm]: you should bring some around to kel and hero at least
Aubrey [6:45pm]: I haven’t practised enough
basil!! [6:53pm]: sorry for being slow i was talking to polly
basil!! [6:53pm]: anyway, it’s been a week, aubrey
basil!! [6:54pm]: i think five batches of cookies in a week is enough to let hero and kel try them

Aubrey sighs and flops backwards onto her bed, letting momentum carry her phone away from her hand and into the folds of her blankets. 

She’s been over to Basil’s to bake a few more times. Kim and Vance even joined her once, which was… an experience. One worth repeating, though; the chaos and clatter and familiarity around her kept her more grounded than she’d felt in a long time. 

Aubrey hasn’t yet tasted her cookies, but that’s—irrelevant. She knows she can’t yet.

She hears her phone buzz again and sighs.

The main problem with getting Basil involved is that Basil has ideas. Ideas about when and how and where she should share the cookies with the rest of their friends. 

Aubrey [6:59pm]: You’re talking a big game for someone who’s barely talked to anyone but me and Sunny for the last month
basil!! [7:01pm]: actually about that

Aubrey sits up. 

basil!! [7:02pm]: i went to gino’s with hero yesterday
basil!! [7:03pm]: we talked about some stuff
basil!! [7:03pm]: not all about mari but that too
Aubrey [7:04pm]: Shit, how’d it go??
basil!! [7:05pm]: it was okay i think???
basil!! [7:06pm]: like obviously nothing was okay at all and i know that but we talked about a lot and it wasn’t awful
basil!! [7:06pm]: so it’s a start
Aubrey [7:08pm]: Yeah absolutely. Really happy that you managed that, it can’t have been easy
basil!! [7:09pm]: thank you :)
basil!! [7:09pm]: but, my main point isn’t that though, it’s that you should give them the cookies

Fuck. Aubrey has entirely lost the moral high ground in this argument. 

basil!! [7:11pm]: the ones from yesterday are still in my pantry

God fucking damn it. Aubrey’s stomach explodes into butterflies—no, a nest of wasps, of hornets.

basil!! [7:14pm]: i know you’re reading this, aubrey
Aubrey [7:15pm]: FINE
Aubrey [7:17pm]: Please be awake by 9am I’ll come by to pick the cookies up. You can come with if you want but totally fine if you’re not up to it. I’ll try come by the day after tomorrow to hang out if you wanna

There. Goddamn it. How the hell is she meant to sleep now? She resolves to reread old editions of Spaceboy until she passes out, preferably as soon as possible.

Her phone buzzes.

basil!! [7:20pm]: oh my god
basil!! [7:21pm]: okay see you tomorrow aubrey!!!

See you tomorrow indeed. Aubrey wraps her blanket around her shoulders and gets started with her first comic.

Basil looks a little worse for wear when he opens the door the next day. Aubrey hisses in a breath through her teeth. 

“Did something happen?” she asks.

Basil’s smile is incredibly strained. “Nightmares.”

Figures. Aubrey tugs the tin of cookies out of his arms and pushes him gently back through the door. 

“Stay back today,” she says. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay.” He yawns. “You’ve got this too.”

The door clicks shut. 

“Noted,” she says to no one in particular.

The walk to Hero and Kel’s is short—too short, far too short, because Aubrey has no time to prepare herself. It feels like one second she’s on Basil’s flower-covered front lawn, and the next she’s staring down Hector. 

“Hey, boy,” she says warily. “These aren’t for you.”

Hector cocks his head, her warning obviously missing him by several miles. Aubrey opts to make a break for the front door before any unfortunate cookie related accidents occur. 

No one answers the door for about thirty seconds, but when she tries the handle the door is open. 

Weird.

She cracks open the door to find Hero right on the other side.

“Sorry,” he pants, opening the door all the way. “Just ran from upstairs.”

Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “Where’s Kel?”

Right on cue, Kel skids in from the landing below the stairs. “I was coming!” He comes to a stop right next to his brother. “Hey, Aubrey! How’s it going?”

“Good?” she says, definitely unprepared for both of them at once. 

Kel blinks at her, then looks at Hero. Aubrey looks up at him as well to find his eyes are focused on the tin of cookies in her arms.

“What have you brought,” he asks, though he obviously already knows. Aubrey is regretting her decision not to donate the tin’s contents to Hector. 

“I made cookies,” she says abruptly. “They’re not like Mari’s used to be, but…” She can’t already be getting choked up. This is pathetic. “I missed her cookies and I wanted to do something for her.”

Kel’s mouth has dropped open. Hero’s eyes are closed. 

Aubrey needs to get out of this situation right this second. 

“So, yep, here you go! Thought you’d want to try them.” She shoves the tin in Hero’s vague direction and turns. “Gotta get going now—”

A hand wraps around her wrist, and Aubrey whips back around. 

Kel.

“Jesus, get the fuck off me—”

“Stay,” Kel says.

It’s not a question. Hero’s eyes are open, searching, begging; Kel is absolutely determined. It wouldn’t be fair to them to leave, despite every muscle in her body screaming at her to run before they make her. 

She jerks her wrist free of Kel’s grasp. “Fine.”

She follows them in through the living room, past the family portrait and the scattered toys and the same sofa they used to sit on when they watched cartoons. 

The kitchen is largely the same as she remembers. It shouldn’t be a surprise. She gingerly takes a seat at the kitchen counter next to Hero; Kel hops up to sit on the counter between them. 

Hero opens the tin, and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“Aubrey, these look… really great.” He sounds genuine. Maybe? Or he could be lying. Aubrey needs to go. 

“Do you want one?” Kel says. Aubrey shakes her head, maybe a little too frantically. 

Hero sighs. “Okay.”

Kel grabs a cookie from the tin before Hero can even get his hand in, which makes Aubrey laugh; both boys look at her in surprise, but neither comments. 

Kel, keeping his mouth shut. Pigs might start flying soon.

She keeps her eyes glued to the counter as they eat their cookies. It’s a nice counter, admittedly. Very modern. 

“Aubrey, these are awesome!” Kel enthuses all of a sudden. Aubrey jumps, but keeps her eyes down.

“Seriously, Aubrey,” Hero says. “Mari would—”

“Mari would love these, dude! She’d be so proud that one of us finally got the secret.” Kel snorts. “Even Mr. Masterchef over here couldn’t get it.”

Aubrey looks up, and Hero is blushing. She wants to cry. It’ll never have been long enough. 

“It’s because they were—”

“Baked with love,” Kel says sagely. “I know.” He’s very sombre, all of a sudden. “I wish she could’ve tried these.”

And don’t they all. Hero’s mouth is set into a tight line. Aubrey bites the inside of her cheek and wills the tears away. 

“Uh, thanks, guys,” she stands up, the need to be literally anywhere else utterly overwhelming her. “You can keep the rest.” 

“Whoa, Aubrey.” Kel hops off the counter. “At least let us walk you to the door.”

Hero’s got himself under control as well. “Yeah, it’s only polite.”

These are two people that she shouldn’t need to miss any more. They’re minutes away. She doesn’t know what she can do to bring back what they had, but she has time to think.

At the door, Kel says, “Awesome cookies, Aubrey. Don’t be a stranger!”

At the door, Hero says, “Seriously, come by if you need any baking tips. And…” He looks off down the road. To his right, she realises. Mari and Sunny’s house.

“You should try them, if you can,” he says. He raises a hand to cut her off before she can even open her mouth to protest. “I know, it’s a lot, but think about…” The wind blows some strands of Aubrey’s hair free of her ribbon. “Think about it.”

Okay. 

“Okay,” she says.

“See you around—see you soon, Aubrey,” he corrects himself. The door clicks shut. Aubrey thinks she heard Kel shout something, muffled by the space between them. 

Aubrey is tired. Maybe she’ll go back to Basil’s place. Maybe she’ll go to the park. 

She straightens her spine and makes her way back down the road.

The thing about not taste testing yourself, Aubrey finds, is that it’s difficult to gauge who’s right about what. For this reason, she ends up inviting a lot more people than strictly necessary to try the cookies. 

Basil is one thing: quiet, polite… sometimes bold enough to give the lightest criticism. 

Kim and Vance are another: unending praise and minimal complaint. 

Some people are more complicated.

Angel gets a sugar rush seemingly instantly. 

“Wow, Aubrey! Wow! They’re so good! How much chocolate is in here! I didn’t know you baked!” Okay, less helpful than she was anticipating. He snags another from the tin and sprints off towards The Maverick to share the joy. 

Charlie is still there, chewing thoughtfully. 

Aubrey looks at her. 

She looks at Aubrey.

“Th… they have… a nice texture,” she finally yields under Aubrey’s scrutinising gaze. 

Good enough. 

“Aubrey!” The Maverick calls from over by the swingset. “These are simply marvellous!”

Yeah, okay. Aubrey snaps the cookies tin shut and calls it a day.

Batch by batch, day by day, week by week. Aubrey finds herself starting to bake by muscle memory alone. Different kitchens each time; Kim’s, Basil’s, Charlie’s, The Maverick’s. 

Hero and Kel’s, once. 

“They’re good, Aubrey,” Kel says, uncharacteristically exasperated. “He’ll like them.”

What? 

“Who?” Aubrey says.

Kel’s eyes widen. “Oh, never mind. Misunderstanding.”

Hero loudly turns a page in whatever medical journal he’s reading. 

Kel winces. “Never mind.”

Basil’s kitchen, again—Polly tries a cookie and smiles. 

“They’re lovely, Aubrey,” she says sweetly. “You’ve really improved.”

It’s not something she thought she wanted to hear. 

Charlie’s, Kim’s, Kim’s, Basil’s. The assorted jurors start to almost unanimously say that they’re perfect. That Aubrey is worrying too much. 

There’s someone she hasn’t asked.

At one in the morning on a Thursday, Aubrey bolts upright in bed. 

Sunny’s birthday was last week. School starts soon. Aubrey needs to see him.

It all clicks into place. What Mari—what she—

And Kel, that little fucker—

Half-asleep, she types out a message on her phone, and then passes the fuck out.

Aubrey [1:23am]: Hey Sunny, are you free on Friday? I haven’t seen you in a while and was thinking of visiting anyway. Let me know if you’re up for it
sunny [3:36am]: 👍
sunny [4:21am]: see you on friday.

The sun is still high in the sky when Aubrey knocks on Sunny’s new front door. She’s hyper-aware of the cookies in her overnight bag, nestled between her pyjamas and tomorrow’s outfit.

She ended up in Basil’s kitchen for this batch, preparing them almost in a haze. Basil seemed concerned, but didn’t say anything—although she saw him on his phone a few times. Hm.

The door cracks open very slightly, and then all the way.

There he is. 

Aubrey thought that she’d come to terms with his eye being gone, but the eyepatch is still a slap in the face. She made these cookies in Basil’s kitchen. She…

No, she’s being ridiculous. Basil is the first person Sunny reached out to, she remembers. Before her. 

It doesn’t sting.

“Hey, Sunny,” she says. “How’s the new house been?”

He blinks. He nods. “Okay,” he says.

Aubrey is still on the doorstep. She shifts her weight from right to left, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she does. 

“Gonna let me in?” she asks. Her nervousness doesn’t come across, she thinks. The strap of her overnight bag is digging into her shoulder, glueing her to the floor.

Sunny stands aside and holds the door open, which she supposes is answer enough. 

The decor in Sunny’s house is exactly as she expected it’d be; calm, muted. Impersonal. Sunny takes her through to his room first, to put her things down. She’s not surprised to be greeted by a photo of Mari on the first surface she sees.

She’s smiling at the photographer, every bit as warm as Aubrey remembers her. Aubrey doesn’t mean to freeze in place, but—

She looks up, and Sunny is looking right back at her.

Aubrey has really, truly fucked up.

“How are you,” Sunny says. Not a question. Level. He’s defensively moved closer to the photo of Mari.

It doesn’t sting. 

“Fine,” Aubrey says. She dumps her bag at the foot of Sunny’s bed and immediately sits on it, which naturally draws Sunny’s attention directly to it. He doesn’t say anything, and it’s a small relief. 

“I wanted to see you before school starts up again,” she says. Inadequate. There is a gap in understanding spanning the floorboards between them. 

No stairs in this house, says a voice in her head. 

But someone lives here. Sunny, alone. Aubrey doesn’t know where his mom is, and she’s reluctant to ask, but before here…

She’d tried Sunny’s door once. A lot of summers ago. And when no one had answered, she’d stood there for ten minutes, trying to come to terms with the striking emptiness of such a familiar place. 

She looks back at Mari, resting gently on Sunny’s desk. 

“It’s nice to see you,” she offers. 

Sunny doesn’t reply, but then again, she wasn’t really talking to him. 

They drift through the evening in a kind of elliptical orbit. Once, Sunny says, “What would you like to eat?”

Another time, he says, “Do you want to watch something?”

Aubrey can’t for the life of her remember how she answered, but she’s sitting on Sunny’s new living room floor with a bowl of ice cream in her lap. Some old Sweetheart cartoon is playing on the TV, and she can see the light gleaming off of Sunny’s left eye.

Basil would probably like to take a photo of something like this. Maybe next time.

Sunny notices her staring and turns to face her fully. The glaring absence of his right eye strikes Aubrey dead in the chest again.

“It’s okay,” he says. The pink and yellow light plays along the white fabric of the cover he’s wearing.

Is it? Not her place.

Does it still hurt? Invasive, insensitive. But she’s doing a bad job at being herself regardless, because that’s something that an Aubrey with pink hair wouldn’t hesitate to say to anyone else.

Does it still hurt? Of course it does. Missing a part of you doesn’t stop hurting when it heals.

Does it still hurt? He killed Mari. That’ll hurt forever. For her, as well—but she was always thinking of herself, wasn’t she? 

If she chooses her words correctly, she could get something back.

Aubrey hears herself gasp shakily.

Sunny’s hand shifts on the carpet, inches towards her by a centimetre. The skin around his fingernails is cracked. Aubrey thinks of the cookies in her bag, and she thinks of what else those hands have done. 

She says nothing, so Sunny looks away.

The rest of the evening passes in silence. Aubrey tries to believe that her presence in this space means something; when Sunny turns out the lights in his room, she rolls over in her sleeping bag and traces the faint light gleaming on Mari’s photo.

basil!! [9:35pm]: i hope you’re having a nice time!!
basil!! [10:12pm]: this was important to you i think
basil!! [10:12pm]: don’t stop now
basil!! [10:23pm]: anyways haha goodnight!!! :)

Aubrey finds it difficult to sleep in unfamiliar places.

Hero [7:56pm]: Tell Sunny hello from me, please.
Hero [7:57pm]: I hope you two are having fun.

Sunny’s breathing is even and measured and perfectly timed, so he isn’t sleeping either.

kel 😎 [6:12pm]: hey hey aubrey give sunny a high five from us
kel 😎 [6:13pm]: 😺
kel 😎 [6:13pm]: that’s him when you high five him
kel 😎 [6:14pm]: lmk how he likes the cookies 💪

Aubrey wishes she could see Mari’s face from her place on the floor. It occurs to her that the photo is angled so that she’s partially concealed from Sunny’s position as well.

It doesn’t sit well with her, but none of it does.

Kim [4:37pm]: Did u miss the bus lmfao
Kim [4:39pm]: Don’t start a fight w/o me lol b careful in the city
Kim [5:17pm]: Cya tmrw dude 

She’s so, so tired though. She wants it to be tomorrow. She wants a new chance to say what she meant to today.

“G’night,” she says to the silent room.

Late enough that she’s not sure whether she dreamt it, she hears a quiet “Goodnight,” in return.

Aubrey wakes right along with the sun, but before Sunny, which sets her mind at ease. She’s got time.

Time to slowly, quietly take the tin of cookies out of her bag and tiptoe to the door. Time to find a suitably out-of-the-way cupboard in Sunny’s new and unfamiliar kitchen to place them in. Time to creep back into Sunny’s room and pause in front of Mari. 

Aubrey wonders if she would be proud of her, and finds it to be a useless sentiment when self-directed. 

It’s a mixed blessing that Sunny doesn’t stay asleep for much longer; Aubrey’s heart is still hammering, but it’s done and she can’t wimp out. All she needs to do now is escape. 

It takes longer than she expects, because Sunny seems to have his own goal as well, today. They eat cereal for breakfast, and Sunny reads the comic Aubrey brought over her shoulder. They brush their teeth, get dressed and sit in front of the black screen of the TV.

There’s no white noise to hide behind now.

“It was nice to see you,” Aubrey says. “I really missed you.” She feels twelve years old again. It’s ridiculous to say everything except what she means to, but something’s stopping her from getting any closer to the point.

“Thank you,” Sunny says. “You’re welcome to come back.” He sounds genuine. Aubrey guesses that he doesn’t have any reason to lie anymore. 

“Thanks,” she replies. It’s funny that, given her conversation partner, Aubrey is the one building the wall here. She’s not getting anywhere like this. 

“I, uh, think my bus is in a bit.” She stands. “I’d better get going.”

Sunny blinks his one eye. “Okay.”

“Thanks for having me.”

Sunny stands up as well and follows her through to his bedroom. “It’s okay.”

They pause in front of Mari again. Her eyes are warm and searching, and Aubrey is disappointing her. She’s grateful that she had the forethought to pack her things away after she changed, because Sunny and Mari aren’t likely to stop staring at her anytime soon.

He trails her back to the front door; Aubrey’s stomach twists itself into a mobius strip. 

“Thanks for having me.” She’s a broken record. Sunny pauses with his hand on the doorknob. 

“Thank you for being here.”

It’s something. It’s a whole lot. Suddenly overcome, Aubrey steps forward and hugs him; lightly, briefly, but it’s a start. Sunny hugs back instantly, like he expected it, which—he’s always been able to read her. Read everyone. 

Aubrey’s anxiety spikes and she steps back. 

“See ya soon,” she says, trying for flippancy and falling somewhere nearer to apprehension. 

Sunny opens the door for her. “See you.”

Aubrey steps out into the sunshine. “Take care of yourself.”

“Okay.” He smiles, just slightly, and Aubrey barely has the time to smile back before the door closes. 

Aubrey [10:46am]: Hey Sunny, super cool to see you, hope to be able to see you again soon
Aubrey [10:47am]: I left you a little something in your cupboard haha so feel free to check that out when you wanna

The bus rumbles to life under her, which helps to mask her nervous shivering.

sunny [10:50am]: ??
Aubrey [10:51am]: Oh haha the top right one closest to the door from the living room
sunny [10:53am]: 👍

Nothing to do but wait, now. Moment of truth. 

No point lying to yourself, Aubrey. 

She starts typing.

Aubrey [10:56am]: So yeah haha I was missing Mari’s cookies a while back and my friend Kim thought I should recreate them and I thought, why not, you know? I thought it’d be a nice thing to do to like remember her and do something for her I guess. I tried to get them as similar to hers as possible and they’re not perfect but what can you do haha

The typing bubble appears next to Sunny’s name. Aubrey is holding her breath. 

Aubrey [10:58am]: No pressure to eat them or anything though if I’m overstepping hell you could even throw them out. Just wanted to give you some because I think you get it you know. More than everyone else did
sunny [11:00am]: they’re not like mari’s 

Aubrey’s stomach drops as sharply as a kingfisher. She shuts off her phone and leans her head against the window, and thinks about where and when and how she messed this up. 

She’s not Mari. She is not Mari. Mari wouldn’t have to scratch and claw and struggle her way through life, and Mari wouldn’t try to be someone else to give herself a chance at living. It was always pointless, and Aubrey was always disappointing someone she will never speak to again. 

She realises that she’s crying around the same time that she realises her phone is ringing. 

It’s Sunny, so what is she meant to do but accept?

“They’re amazing, Aubrey,” Sunny says firmly as soon as the call connects. Just like that. Aubrey puts a hand over her mouth and shakes. 

The line is silent but for the low humming of the connection. Aubrey needs to get herself under control. She is in public. 

“If you wanted,” Sunny starts, “I’d like to know how. How you—” His voice shears off, and that’s all it takes for Aubrey to find her own.

“Next time I’m over,” Aubrey promises. “If you’re sure.”

“Thank you.”

More dead air, overlaid by the chatter on the bus and the dull roar of the engine.

“I think she’d—”

“—be proud of you,” Aubrey finishes. Sunny’s breathing shakes, and Aubrey has definitely overstepped. 

“You too,” he says finally. 

“Okay,” she says. She’s starting to get it now. 

“Thank you for the cookies,” Sunny says. 

“I’m excited to make them with you next time,” she replies. 

“Next time.” There’s a smile in his voice. Aubrey laughs, and then the line cuts out. 

Aubrey keeps her eyes on the telephone lines looping along the highway all the way home. 

Aubrey’s not ready yet, but when is she ever going to be? She’s procrastinated long enough. 

It’s eleven o’clock at night, and Mom has gone off to her bedroom. Aubrey’s oven still works, surprisingly; she sits on the floor right by it and stares out into the dark.

Mari would be proud of her. Mari would be proud of her. Maybe she even is, wherever her spirit lies. 

It’s not a surprise anymore when the oven beeps—Aubrey’s been counting backwards in her head, waiting. 

She’s not ready. 

The cookies are as perfect as they ever are, which is to say they’re not. Aubrey notes the browning starting around the edges, the non-uniformity of each one as opposed to the next. 

Aubrey doesn’t know if she owns a cooling rack. It feels wrong to let them stay on the tray, but there’s really nothing to do about it. No one is here to help her. She tests the temperature of each cookie with her fingertips and picks out the coldest one. 

She’s not Mari. She’s not twelve. She’s got pink hair and a broken heart that has barely started healing. She misses Mari’s cookies, so she made her own. 

It’s sweet when she bites into it. Mari is cold, and will be forever. Aubrey is warm. Aubrey is loved, even from beyond the grave. 

Mari is proud of her.

Aubrey admits that maybe, just maybe, she’s proud of herself too.