Chapter Text
As the weather outside continues to worsen, a constant flurry of raindrops taps against the windowpane. The heavier droplets make a distinctive ‘plink’ noise as they collide with the glass, splattering against its surface into a dozen smaller driblets. Aubrey watches as the water drizzles down the glass, the cumulative stream of raindrops forming a watery curtain of sorts, blurring the view of the outside world. Even so, despite the visual obstruction, she can still tell that the sky is much darker than it was before.
The clouds look angry, almost pitch black in colour; this storm is going to be a bad one, today’s downpour is just the precursor for the approaching tempest.
She hopes her roof will hold up well enough. Her dad will be really mad if he has to do emergency repairs in the middle of a cloudburst, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to get by with just a bucket for leaks this time around. Not with this kind of weather anyway.
‘I’ll worry about it later…’ the young girl thinks to herself. She’s not home right now, so it’s very much a case of ‘out of sight out of mind’.
It always is when it comes to her house.
Humming ‘rain, rain, go away,’ under her breath, she continues to watch the rain drops splatter against the glass, the constant drumming of the rainfall proving to be surprisingly relaxing. She’s always had a soft spot for this kind of weather; it’s weirdly calming in a way that’s hard to describe, and if it weren’t for the plethora of leaks in her house, then she’d probably go so far as to say that she loves the rain. There’s just something so strangely alluring about it; sure, getting wet sucks, but the sound, the atmosphere, it’s… mesmerising.
“Aubrey?” a familiar voice calls out.
Turning around, she’s greeted by a young boy with bright blue eyes. His blonde mop of hair is even messier than usual, likely only just having been dried a minute earlier, which makes sense considering they had just barely escaped the worst of the downpour. Interestingly, he also has his hands hidden behind his back.
“Hey Basil,” she replies, slightly flustered at being caught mid-daydream. “Sorry I was just…” she trails off as she looks back out at the downfall outside. “Thinking…”
She's hanging out at his place again, which is a fairly regular pastime for her. However, this approaching storm has stranded her here for a bit longer than her usual visits. Not that she minds of course. Sad as it is to admit, they’re pretty much each other’s only friend; she can’t even remember a time she didn’t know Basil. The flower boy has been a part of her life since like… forever.
“A-Ah, sorry to interrupt then,” he apologises sheepishly, forcing a small smile from Aubrey.
One thing is certain, he might be her only friend, but she certainly couldn’t have picked a better companion.
“Don’t be silly,” she chuckles. “I was just looking at the rain, it’s so pretty!”
“You think so?” Basil asks, clearly unconvinced. He slowly moves over to her side, his hands still tucked behind his back. "Looks kinda scary.”
“You’re not made of sugar,” Aubrey jests, glancing up at his messy blonde hair. “Though you kinda look like it,” she adds with a smirk.
“Because I’m so sweet?”
“Because your hair looks like cotton candy!”
Basil pouts at her comment, forcing another chuckle from Aubrey.
“I’m just kidding Basil! Don’t look so sad!” She can’t handle the puppy dog face he makes when he’s upset. “It doesn't look that bad! Honestly!”
It actually does look pretty bad, his hair is rarely ever tidy, but this storm has certainly not done it any favours.
“…What you got there?” she suddenly asks, having finally taken notice of his hidden hands.
“Oh!” Basil jumps, an embarrassed expression crossing his face. “I almost forgot —I got you something!”
Finally moving his hands from behind his back, he reveals a small potted plant in his grasp. It’s a small plant, especially compared to some of the more exotic flora scattered around the Flower residence, consisting of little more than a heart-shaped leaf sticking out of a small tub of soil. It’s simplistic but undeniably pretty.
“I hope you like it,” he adds, passing the plant over to Aubrey, who hesitantly takes it into her own clutches.
She does like it. But she’s also seen enough TV to know what such a gesture implies. It's not like he hasn't given her flowers before. But a heart-shaped one?
“Basil…” she mumbles, unsure of what to say next. “I didn’t think you felt—”
“A-Ah n-no!” he stammers, an embarrassed look on his face. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking!” he explains, glancing down at the plant. “Probably should’ve started with that,” he adds sheepishly.
“Then what—"
“It’s called Hoya Kerrii,” Basil explains, his eyes still locked on the small plant in her hands. “It does symbolise love,” he admits with an awkward smile. “But! It also symbolises affection, luck, prosperity and…”
“And?” Aubrey asks, not even bothering to hide her confusion.
Looking up from the plant in her palms to meet her eyes, Basil gives her a warm smile before continuing.
“Friendship.”
“What on earth are you two in hysterics over?” Polly’s voice rings out from the kitchen.
Wiping away the single tear that sprung from her right eye, Aubrey tries to catch her breath and muster a response. It wasn’t even that funny, but after all the insanity of today, something as trivial as her and Basil jinxing each other is just... weirdly hysterical.
Maybe she’s finally lost it. Most people would have by now.
Raised in a broken home, handed happiness and friendship just to have it brutally torn away at barely twelve years of age, forced to suffer through four years of suffocating sadness and grief, just to be randomly whisked away to another world where none of it even happened. Surely, in such a situation, going mad would be the only sane thing to do. Why bother clutching the steering wheel when this impending car crash she calls a life is already careening off the road? Maybe she already hit the guard rail hours ago, and that entire conversation with Rey was just some deluded hallucination after all. If nothing else, that would certainly explain why her counterpart vanished without a trace.
Car crash analogies regarding her degrading mental health aside, she knows that conversation was real. She knows all of this madness is real. She just wishes she was going mad, as at least that would make some semblance of sense. The human mind is easily deceived, and she’s had her fair share of trauma. Her life would be so much easier if she could just chalk today’s insanity up to… well, regular insanity.
“N-Nothing,” Basil stutters. Even at a glance, it’s clear that he’s not faring much better than herself, and given their current appearance, his earlier comment on the recyclists (or whatever he called them) comes to mind.
‘Mass psychogenic illness ey? Sure does feel like the world’s gone mad.’
“Aubrey just told a… r-really good joke!” the flower boy adds, lying between his teeth.
To think she was just giving the blonde credit for being a good liar, enough credence that she almost had Rey questioning the boy’s intentions.
“Seriously?! That’s the best excuse you’ve got?” Aubrey whispers in disbelief. “Where’s that silver tongue gone?!”
“I’m a bad liar!” Basil hisses in response.
“No. You’re just really inconsistent!” she retorts, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Whatever, let’s just hope she bought i—”
Her hopes are immediately dashed for what must be the fiftieth time today as Polly’s voice once again calls out from the kitchen.
“Oh?” the caretaker asks. “Mind if I hear it then?”
‘Shit.’
Once again, Basil has landed her in an awkward situation, and once again, she turns to him for support he can't give. His tense, yet apologetic expression makes her briefly curse her so-called 'choice' of guide.
“Uhhh,” Aubrey stutters, her brain racing to think of a good joke. After a tense second of silent panic, an old memory resurfaces, almost like divine intervention, bestowing upon her a half-decent pun in her hour of need. “Want to hear a joke about construction?"
“Sure?” Polly replies.
"I'm still working on it."
…
“Hahaha!” Polly chortles. Her laugh is warm and jovial, and surprisingly boisterous for someone Aubrey thought to be a fairly quiet woman. “That’s a good one!” she chuckles, before turning back to the sink.
“T-Thanks,” Aubrey replies, letting out a sigh of relief as she hears the caretaker resume her cleaning, occasionally laughing under her breath as she does.
“Did you get that from Hero?” Basil asks, his eyebrows arched with curiosity. “Pretty sure he told that one once.”
“Yeah, he did,” she confesses. “It was back when Kel bought that stupid joke book.”
“Oh yeah!” Basil’s face lights up with fond recognition. “Those puns were so bad haha… Say, whatever happened to that thing anyway?”
“No clue,” Aubrey lies.
After about one day of the joke book plaguing their friend group, she and Mari had decided the pun epidemic needed to be stopped before it could truly take hold. Sure, her older friend merely intended to hide it from the brothers for the foreseeable future, but she certainly didn’t complain either when Aubrey found them extra tinder for their campfire.
‘S’mores had never tasted so good…’
“…Suppose we should get to it then,” Basil sighs, bringing a sudden end to Aubrey’s reminiscing.
“Suppose we should,” she agrees with a sigh of her own. “You wanna go first?”
She’s done enough talking today. So, if she must go through yet another lengthy conversation, with it being almost certain that she’ll have to relive and reexamine some of her worst memories, then she’d at least like the chance to rest her voice first. Besides, she got the impression there was more he wanted to say earlier but didn't have the right words for at the time, and if she took anything away from her counterpart’s scathing critique, it’s to hear the flower boy out.
“I… I honestly have no idea where to start,” Basil admits with a defeated laugh, glancing down at his own hands, he firmly clenches his right wrist in a vain attempt to steady his shaking hands. “Th-There’s so much—”
“Just—just be blunt,” Aubrey interjects, hoping to stall his spiralling. “Lay into me man, say what you’ve gotta say! …Trust me, I’ve probably heard worse,” she adds, Rey’s tirade creeping into the forefront of her mind once again.
“…Alright then,” the flower boy agrees. He takes a second, either to compose himself or think about his next words, Aubrey can’t say for sure, but whatever it is, his pause doesn’t last long. “What happened between us? In your world I mean.”
“I…”
She knew she was going to have to explain this to him at some point, she’d given him bits and pieces of the story all day, so it’s only natural he wants the whole picture. But she just recounted it all to Rey not even an hour ago, and now she’s feeling… conflicted about the whole thing. Sure, a part of her always knew she was going too far, but when she was finally being confronted on it (and by herself no less) all her reasoning, her justifications… they just fell flat. They didn’t feel like reasons anymore, they felt like excuses.
Obviously, she would never be able to justify bullying Basil to… Basil, but now? Now she’s not sure she can even remotely justify it to herself, let alone attempt to explain it.
Call it selfish, you’d probably be right. But thinking about it now… it all just feels wrong.
“Basil I—"
“Aubrey,” the blonde presses. “You need to tell me.”
She wants to make an excuse for herself, to run away from a problem she really needs to face head-on. It’s a display of uncharacteristic cowardice, and it disgusts her. But she just… can’t bring herself to tell him. Maybe it’s Rey’s words, or her own consciousness finally kicking back in, or more likely, a combination of the two. But she feels terrible, and she doesn’t want this Basil to know just how badly she’s treated his counterpart.
‘Scared of losing him too?’
Maybe she is…
Subconsciously, she’d wanted the Basil she knew to fight back for years, but he never did. She thinks she knows why now, and the answer sickens her. The two of them had fallen into a horrific cycle of abuse and self-loathing, one she eagerly perpetuated in a haze of anger and grief, all the while hiding behind a shield of righteousness. But Rey had torn down that defence, ripped it in half and exposed it for the flimsy excuse it is.
Because her counterpart was right. Sure, what Basil did… wasn't great, but he likely had his reasoning. God knows she couldn't bear looking at Mari's face in those polaroids some days herself. Either way…
“You didn’t have to bully him!”
She didn’t. But she did, and now this flower boy wants her to explain why, when she can’t even say herself anymore.
They’re not friends, but he’s been kind to her, maybe even a bit too kind. He allowed Aubrey to have a small taste of the privileges her counterpart enjoys here, and it’s been addicting. Despite all the tribulations, she’s genuinely had fun today. So yes. She’s scared of losing this Basil. But not just because he’s her safety net, but because—
“Aubrey.”
His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. His face is stern, or at least, he’s doing his best imitation of such a look. He can’t hide the slight hint of concern that underlies his expression though, the worry that tugs on his frown and brows, conveying more weariness than anger.
“Y’know… I kinda regret telling you to be blunt,” she admits with a sad smile.
“Mind if I keep going?” he asks, although Aubrey gets the impression he’s going to speak his mind no matter what she says.
“Sure.”
“…You almost killed me.”
He practically whispers those words, probably to make sure Polly doesn’t overhear him, and yet, he might as well have screamed them right in her face with how hard they hit. It's like he just walked up and jabbed her straight in the guts. He said the quiet part aloud, admitted what they both knew and desperately tried to ignore, and she doesn’t know what to say in turn. She feels sick, her stomach is in knots. She desperately wants to run. But she can't bring herself to move a muscle.
For all her burning rage, for all the pain and suffering she inflicted on her former friend, not once did she ever want him dead. And yet, she almost killed him, and not even him, another version of him, one who never did anything wrong to her.
It takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact. Her stomach churns in protest, guilt hangs over her like a looming shadow, and yet, she forces herself to keep listening. She needs to hear this.
“I get it was an accident, t-trust me, I get it.” His slight stutter betrays the reassuring façade he’s trying to put on. “But I need to know what happened between us—between all of us,” he clarifies. “Because I c-can’t have that happening again. If you freaked out towards me…” he trails off again. “Sunny, Kel, Hero, Mari… I can’t let you—I can't risk—”
“I wouldn’t—”
“Then show me!” Basil insists, his voice cracking slightly. He looks desperate, like he's mere seconds away from getting down and begging on his knees. “P-Prove I can trust you! Please! Just tell me what happened, tell me who I’m dealing with here!”
With his plea concluded, the room falls silent once again, the Flower residence left quiet save for the sound of running water as Polly continues washing the dishes, oblivious to the turmoil occurring under her own roof. The silence lingers for a long while afterwards.
Aubrey doesn’t know what to say. His logic is sound. She almost killed him in a fit of rage, after spending all morning tormenting him for the crime of simply resembling someone she dislikes. It was an accident, he thankfully seems to understand that much, but right now she’s still just a liability to him, a problem he desperately wants to give the benefit of the doubt, but can’t without some reassurance… without the full picture.
“…You won’t like it,” she warns.
“Probably not,” he agrees, his eyes downcast and shadowed by his fringe. “But that hardly seems like y-your choice.”
Aubrey can’t help the small smirk that forms upon hearing those words. She could get used to a Basil with some bite.
“You got me there…” she relents. “But before I tell you… I just—this morning—you should know that I'm really sor—” she cuts herself off as her face flushes with embarrassment.
‘You still can’t say it huh?’
It’s not that she can’t admit fault. She’s very much about to do so. It’s just… apologising now… it feels hollow, insincere, like another excuse.
“Yes?”
“Nevermind,” she dismisses with a sigh. She'll apologise once she's done telling him everything. Let him judge her for who she really is. “Let’s—Let’s just get into it, I think you can guess where it all starts…”
Lungs burn with staggered breaths, as unsteady feet guide a young girl down familiar streets. She runs and runs until she can feel her legs threatening to give in on her, and even then she still continues to sprint forward. Fresh tears likewise run freely down her cheeks. Her mad dash is taking it's toll on her body, her joints scream in protest, her breathing is hoarse and heavy, and yet, she continues onwards all the same. The watery winter sun hangs low in the sky, flashing the girl with bursts of brightness as she passes through the spindly shadows of Faraway’s bare trees.
Autumn has come and gone, and has claimed much more than the town’s leaves.
A long, lonely winter awaits Aubrey Williams.
Tunnel vision guides the girl back to her rotting home. She practically stumbles through the front door, which is unlocked as usual. Slamming it behind her and then barreling through the living room, she ignores the protests of her parents and races up the ladder to her room. Their cries quickly turn on each other, their bitter words still revolving around her, but now targeted at each other. Every issue presents a new argument and provides new ammunition for her parents. Aubrey is barely even a person to them at this point, just another point of contention, held in the same regard as missing beer cans and alleged affairs.
But that’s old news, the same story she sees every other day. Right now, Aubrey’s mind is fixated on something much more recent.
Collapsing down onto the hard wooden floor, she ignores the ominous creaking noise the boards make in protest, as well as the concerned whines of her pet rabbit. She flings Basil’s photo album down in front of her and starts to frantically flick through its contents. Every polaroid is tarnished with marker ink, every smiling face and happy memory is covered in crude scribbles, and as she removes each one from the album, she can feel her tears swell more and more.
“C-Come on, come on,” she murmurs to herself, desperately rubbing her sleeve against one of the pictures in a vain attempt to wipe away the stains. “Come on!”
Gathering the loose photos in her unsteady hands, she rushes them over to her desk, dropping a couple on the way. Placing them down onto its surface, she quickly picks up a new polaroid and resumes her fruitless attempts at cleaning, desperately hoping that the desk will serve as a better work surface. After another minute of pointless rubbing, she quickly casts that same picture down in a fit of rage.
“Damn it!” she cries. Choking back a sob, she lets out a pained cry, and in a fit of rage sweeps her desk with one arm, scattering all the photos around the attic. “…D-Damn it.”
Some of the polaroids flutter in the stale air for a second or two, and time seems to freeze as one passes right by her face. In that split second she instantly identifies which one it is. Even under all that ink, she still can recognise her own face smiling back at her, melon-flavoured popsicle in hand. Although the same cannot be said for the figure sat beside her, covered in so many scribbles it’s hard to tell there were ever two people in the picture to begin with.
The betrayal burns like bile in her throat. She’d just wanted to see Mari’s face one more time, but now…
“…Why?” she mumbles, looking out over the sea of scattered polaroids, clenching her fists as her tears continue to flow freely.
She had just wanted to reconnect with Basil, to spend time with the one friend she was certain she’d never lose, and he went and did this?!
Mari’s dead. She left them and she’s not coming back, these pictures are all that’s left of her, and Basil—Basil just…!
“Argh!” she cries, forcing herself to look away from the photos.
Facing her desk once again, she slams her fists down onto its surface, shaking the scarce few possessions she keeps atop it. Among them is a small potted plant, consisting of one green leaf in the shape of a heart. Having finally noticed it, she stares at it vacantly for a solid thirty seconds. In the end, instinct acts before reason, and so, before she even knows what she’s doing, the plant is firmly in her grasp one second, then in pieces on the other side of her room in another.
Aubrey stands there in silence for a while. Simply looking out at the mess of scattered photos that litter her room and the shattered remains of the plant pot. She can hear her parents yelling again, BunBun is shivering in his pen, and the scribbled-out face of Mari Suzuki is looking up at her. Judging her.
A moment later her knees finally give way, and she collapses down onto the floor, sobbing into her hands. She cries and cries, her weeping echoing throughout the dusty attic. But no one hears her.
She’s all alone now.
“That’s... about it,” Aubrey concludes weakly. “You wandered off back home, I went to bed and—” she stretches her arms out to emphasise the point. “—woke up here. The rest is history.”
She’s hesitant to look over at Basil, but after a second of silence, she nervously glances up in his direction. His expression is somehow both exactly what she expected and also a total curveball. He’s clearly conflicted, that much she anticipated, but he also seems… confused.
“Before you say anything,” she says, glancing at her feet. “I want you to know… I’m sorry.”
It’s funny. The words come so easily now. It took her almost killing the poor boy, being torn a new one by her own reflection, and then confessing her actions to Basil, but now she can truly say it.
She is sorry. She is so God damn sorry. Not just to this Basil, but the one back home too. She’d say things went too far, but truthfully, it never should have gone in this direction in the first place. She messed up, really messed up, and after four years of deluding herself into thinking otherwise, she can finally admit as much, just… not to the right Basil.
“I’m sorry about today, about how I treated you, what I said about Sunny, about the lake—Christ, Basil, I almost killed you! I never meant—” she rambles, her panic rising as she recalls this morning’s turmoil.
“…Aubrey,” Basil murmurs.
“—You just looked so much like him and—and I know I shouldn’t have treated you—him, like that either but I was just so angry and—"
“Aubrey.”
“—I miss her so much Basil, and those photos—they were all I had left of her, and I know you had your reasons, but I was just so—"
“Aubrey!”
The flower boy’s shout snaps her out of her spiralling, and despite the serious nature of their conversation, she can’t help but flush a little in embarrassment. She really was just rambling off for a while there. Today has done a real number on her mental health, she feels like she could sleep for an entire month and still want a lie in.
“…I wouldn’t do that,” Basil adds, his words vague, his face unreadable.
“What?” she asks.
“The photos… I don’t know if I ever told you—probably not considering… everything.” He shudders a little, an uncomfortable expression crossing her face, as Aubrey feels her heart pang with guilt at the sight. “But, the reason I took so many back then—honestly, the reason I still do now, is because… it’s—it’s h-hard to describe, but it’s kind of my way of…” he trails off again.
“Of?”
“Of holding on,” he replies, looking incredibly shamefaced. “Of c-cherishing what I’m scared of losing most… which—well, I guess that fear was pretty justified h-huh?” he adds with a sad smile. “So, if I l-lost any of you then… then the last thing I’d do would be t-that,” he explains.
Looking at the blonde like he has two heads, she remains in stunned silence for a few seconds, left utterly perplexed by his words. She had literally just come to terms with the fact that whilst shitty, his actions likely came from a place of grief, and now Basil is implying he didn’t even do it???
“But… you did,” Aubrey insists weakly.
It occurs to her how childish she sounds, there’s no argument or counterpoint, it’s the most simplistic of retorts, barely even a step above just saying ‘nuh-uh’. But what else is there to say? He had to have done it! …Who else could have?
“…Did you see me do it?” Basil asks cautiously.
“…No,” she confesses, biting her lip as a looming sense of dread takes hold. “But I found it at your place! Who else would have done it?!”
She can feel herself starting to panic again. It has to be him, if it wasn’t, then…
‘Then you tortured him for nothing.’
"You were probably just… grieving," she reasons, a pit forming in her stomach as she says the words aloud. She spent years tormenting him for his decision, and now she's practically defending his actions to… himself.
‘God I can feel another headache setting in.’
That’s another thing she should probably worry about. Rey suggested there was more to these constant migraines than just stress. God knows what exactly, but if the rest of today’s strangeness is any indication, then it’s probably nothing good.
‘One problem at a time, Aubrey.’
“I think I have an idea,” Basil eventually replies, the conflict in his expression as clear as day. “But I’m not a hundred percent c-certain,” he adds, obviously hesitant to share his theory. “You’ll have to give me some t-time to think it all over, but I p-promise once I’m sure, then I’ll tell you.”
A part of her is annoyed that he's keeping this from her, especially given his previous insistence on her complete transparency. But his growing stutter doesn't escape her notice, nor does his general demeanour. He's shrunk in on himself, his words are sheepish and hesitant, and his eyes nervously glance around the room as he compulsively fiddles with the fabric of his jumper. The boy oozes anxiety and bears an uncanny resemblance to the Basil she knows from back home. It’s obvious that whatever theory he has is one he doesn’t want to believe. So, maybe it's best she lets him dwell on that for a little bit longer first; give the boy time to gather his thoughts.
Honestly, she’d like to do the same herself, today has had enough bombshell revelations as is. She’d love nothing more than for some time to rest and think over today’s events, before she’s thrust into yet another big reveal.
“Y’know what, that sounds good,” Aubrey replies with a sigh. “I think I’ve had enough revelations for a lifetime…”
“That reminds me,” Basil starts, shifting the conversation once again. “You were acting really weird earlier. Did something happen?”
Ah right, she was acting incredibly suspicious after leaving the bathroom. She was just so caught up in that conversation with Rey, that she was not mentally prepared to behave like a normal person again.
‘How the hell do I explain this part?'
Seriously, there is no way she can explain that whole ordeal to Basil without sounding completely insane.
Then again, he’s dealt with all this shockingly well, and she should probably let him know his friend is alive and… okay, maybe not well, but definitely alive. So yeah, probably best to just cut straight to the point.
“I spoke to Rey in your bathroom mirror,” Aubrey states matter-of-factly. “Don’t ask me how that works, because I have no bloody clue. Probably something to do with however I ended up here though.”
“…Okay,” Basil replies, not even trying to mask his confusion. “But who is Rey exactly? And why are they in my mirror???”
“She’s not in the mirror Bas, it was like a magic window to my world and—I told you not to ask how it works! I don’t know how it works!”
Aubrey is certain they’re both aware of how insane she sounds, but what’s even more insane is the fact that she’s telling the truth and they both know it.
“But who is Rey???” Basil asks again. “A friend from your world? One of your hooligans?”
“No, it’s me,” she replies. “The other me, the one you know. I gave her a nickname.”
The flower boy's eyes widen upon hearing her words, and he practically lunges across the couch, crossing the distance between them in a second, until he’s mere inches away from her face. Shock, joy, and alarm are all visible in his expression.
“You spoke with her?! Is she okay??? Where is she?! Can I speak with her?! Is she still in the mirror?!” Basil asks, rambling off a series of similar questions until Aubrey eventually decides to intervene.
Placing one finger on his forehead, she slowly, yet firmly pushes the boy’s face away from her own. The blonde instantly goes quiet, an embarrassed flush quickly spreading across his cheeks.
“For the last time, she’s not in the mirror dude!” Aubrey replies exasperatedly, only to soften her tone upon seeing Basil’s growing distress. It’s obvious that he’s really worried about his friend. About her. She should probably be a little more patient with him. She barely understands this mess herself, so she can't exactly expect Basil to immediately get it. "She's… fine. Looks like we swapped places somehow, she's in my world now. We were talking through the bathroom mirror but when you knocked, she just… vanished."
“…It really is like that comic,” Basil murmurs in response.
‘Spaceboy, one-forty-nine.’
The comparison almost makes Aubrey burst into another fit of manic laughter with just how absurd and out of pocket it is. But the more she thinks about it, the more she realises just how apt the comparison is. The exact details of that issue are fuzzy to her, but she recalls that the two Spaceboy’s were exactly the same up until one key deciding point in their lives, a point of divergence that irreparably changed the two of them. She also remembers that the two did find some way to talk across universes, although she’s pretty sure it wasn’t through mirrors.
‘Guess I’m the evil double then,’ she thinks to herself, half-amused and half-disheartened by the thought.
“So, she’s… alright then?” Basil enquires.
“She’s doing about as well as I am,” Aubrey states. “Maybe a little better, probably a little worse.”
Even she can admit little Mrs perfect got the short end of the stick here. So, even if Rey managed to get the whole gang back together, it doesn’t sound like she’s having the best time. Then again, Aubrey definitely got the better deal here and she’s not exactly having the time of her life either. Which is almost funny, as not even a day ago she would have killed someone to have this life. Now she’s here and it just feels wrong. This world is great, but this life… it’s not hers.
No matter how much she wishes it was.
“But she’s okay,” she reaffirms, having released the flower boy needs a more confident response. “We spoke for a bit and… yeah, I don’t think she likes me very much.”
"Ha! Y-Yeah, that checks out," Basil replies with a sad laugh and soft smile. "No offence—”
“Dude, I almost killed you,” Aubrey deadpans, scowling slightly as she glares at her feet. “You’ve gotta stop apologising for me being a prick.”
“…Right,” the blonde complies.
It's obvious he wants to say something else. Maybe to argue against her? To reassure her? If so, he wisely chose otherwise. He'd just undermine his earlier point if he backtracked now. Basil was right, she's been the worst, and he needs to remember that.
“Say… do you think I can talk to her? To… Rey?” Basil suddenly asks. “…I miss her.”
“…”
What can she even say to that? It's such a strange feeling, to hear someone she's hated for so long, talk about her with such genuine care and compassion. Except he's not the boy she knows, and she's not the girl he misses. It's hard to explain how exactly this makes her feel, but if she had to pick one word, it would be ‘bad’.
“Well… if she randomly appears in my reflection again,” Aubrey says, pausing to scratch the back of her head. “Then I’ll uh, call for you.”
“…Thanks Aubrey,” Basil replies earnestly.
“Y’know, you’re taking all this way better than I thought you would,” Aubrey admits. “I half-thought you’d have kicked me out by now.”
“H-Honestly, I’m trying not to think about it all too much,” Basil confesses. “And I wouldn’t do that to you… you’re kind of a jerk but you’re still her.”
Ignoring the (admittedly deserved) backhanded compliment, his words ring a bell in Aubrey’s mind.
“I think he blocked a lot of it out,” Rey had said in reference to the accident.
Sounds like the flower boy has a bit of a bad habit here.
“You’re allowed to think about it y’know,” Aubrey suggests. “To take it all in, think it over… even if it hurts.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Basil replies with a tired and strained smile. “I’d rather not. N-Not right now anyway.”
“Fair enough,” she concedes.
Truthfully, she feels the same. There are a thousand things she’s putting off thinking about, but given the circumstances she finds herself in, she doesn’t have the luxury of putting them off forever.
“…Why do I get the impression you were hinting at s-something else?” Basil asks, having seen right through her.
“Probably because I’m a virtual stranger you have no real reason to trust,” she points out with a small smirk.
The look on Basil’s face is priceless, but he’s obviously upset by that comment. Likely because he knows on some level that it’s true. Despite his previous insistence not even a minute earlier, she’s not really Rey, she’s not even his friend. Sure, she’s slowly warming up to him, but she’s not the Aubrey he knows, and given her earlier behaviour, he has little to no reason to trust her.
Luckily, she might have a fix for that.
“Okay, I’m gonna be real with you,” Aubrey starts. “Clearly, we’re both hiding things here. Either willingly or just out of like, I don’t know a lack of context? Like not knowing things that would be weird to the other.” Sunny’s eye immediately comes to mind as a good example. Something Basil had neglected to mention because it had become so normal to him yet remained so alien to herself. “So let’s just agree to be more honest with each other,” she suggests, offering her hand to the blonde. “No more secrets. Complete transparency. Whaddya say?”
She expected some hesitance, maybe a look of contemplation or tentative curiosity. But instead, the flower boy proves to be incredibly receptive to the suggestion.
“Alright!” Basil beams, eagerly taking and then shaking her hand.
It’s a nice gesture, but despite the blonde’s warm smile and earnest enthusiasm radiating an almost infectious sense of optimism, Aubrey can’t help but feel that it’s ultimately rather shallow. If Rey’s right, then Basil might not even know what truths he’s hiding from her, and if so, a friendly handshake is hardly going to undo that.
He must notice her dour expression, as his own smile slowly begins to fade.
“Hey, I know things are super messed up right now, but…” he trails off for a moment, and although he’s staring right at her, his hand still wrapped around her own, Aubrey gets the feeling that he’s not truly looking at her right now. “I’ve got a feeling this is all going to turn out alright!”
“That so?” Aubrey asks, not so easily convinced.
“Well, this whole thing is like that comic,” Basil replies, releasing her hand from his grasp. “Have you ever known an issue of Spaceboy to have a bad ending?”
“Pretty sure that run got cancelled Bas.”
“Yeah, it did,” the blonde admits sheepishly. “But it still had a nice ending! I know that’s fiction, but with how strange reality is… I think this will too… eventually. Don’t you?”
‘No, not at all.’
“Sure,” she lies. “I don’t see why not.”
It's at moments like this that Aubrey can truly see the difference between her world and this one. Rey, her counterpart with half her memories and half her wit, is much like Basil. They’re both haunted by the accident four years ago, but compared to herself, they're practically innocent children. They experienced a fraction of the grief she has because whilst things here are far from perfect, they're a damn sight better than her own universe. Rey can’t comprehend a world where her friends abandon her, where her sister in all but blood leaves her behind. Whilst Basil can’t (or won’t) imagine an outcome to this mess that isn’t at least somewhat positive.
Some may see that as an endearing display of optimism, but she just finds it naïve and slightly frustrating.
Sure, they’re better people for their delusions, but Aubrey can tell the next few days are going to be one hell of a reality check, especially for poor Rey. Whilst she mostly feels bad for them, a small bitter part of her revels in this chaos, taking a sick satisfaction in watching these perfect caricatures crumble and collapse down to her level. It's incredibly petty, and rather cruel too, but at least now it's just a small voice in the back of her head, not the same driving force that set her on this morning's warpath.
‘Christ, I’m a mess.’
She wishes she could believe Basil, she truly does. It would be nice to buy into that optimistic outlook. But if she’s learnt anything from the past four years, it’s that people like her don’t get happy endings. Her path was chosen a long time ago; today isn’t a crossroads, it’s just the first sign of the horizon. She has a sinking feeling that this chapter of her life is coming to a close and that the final destination isn’t pretty.
“Anything else you wanna talk about?” she asks, despite wanting nothing more than to be done with this conversation.
“Want to? No, no not really,” Basil admits, likely feeling the same as herself. “There’s definitely more to talk about,” he muses, his face scrunching up like he just tasted something sour. "But maybe that can wait till t-tomorrow?" he suggests.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Aubrey agrees, happily taking the out. “Think we’ve both got a lot to mull over.”
“No kidding,” he mumbles, his voice practically a whisper, and words probably not intended for her ears. “I guess that’s that then,” he adds, slumping back into the couch as his posture noticeably relaxes.
It comes as a surprise to herself just how relieved she feels to watch him shift back into his usual self. To stop looking like the Basil she knows.
However, that only provides a temporary comfort. She can’t relax here. Even with the conversation concluded she still feels on edge. She needs some time alone, to just lay down and think over everything that’s happened today, maybe sleep on it a little. A nap, yeah, that’s what she needs, some quality shut-eye.
Rising from her seat on the couch, she can’t help but wince a little as a sudden pain in her gut reverberates throughout her entire body. Right, she almost forgot, she and Basil beat the crap out of each other this morning. No matter, this is hardly the first time she’s gone to bed with bruises. Doing a quick stretch, she hisses under her breath as her sore muscles scream in protest. She clicks her neck and chuckles a little as Basil visibly cringes.
“Going somewhere?” he asks.
“Bed,” Aubrey replies bluntly. “I’m shattered. Need some rest.”
“At this time of day?”
“You try hopping universe,” she retorts, groaning as she straightens her back, producing a notable ‘click’ noise.
‘God, is this how old people feel?’
“It takes a lot out of a girl,” she continues. “Besides, you really did a number on me earlier, you’ve got a mean right hook on ya Bas.”
She intended that as a compliment, but in contrast to her own smirk, Basil’s face contorts into a weary and guilty expression.
“Sorry I—"
“Dude,” Aubrey deadpans. “Stop apologising, I almost killed you.”
“R-Right,” Basil stutters, glancing down at his own feet. Just as the pinkette turns to leave, he suddenly speaks up again. “H-Hey, I know you want some rest but uh, I was just wondering if you uh—me and Rey were going to—I know you’re not her—but would you want to watch…" he trails off after somehow stumbling over almost every word he spoke. “Actually, n-nevermind! You should get some sleep, it’s been a long day!”
His smile is so forced that it looks like his cheek muscles may snap from the sheer exertion. As if to balance it out, Aubrey responds with a deep frown. She feels like she should say something, but she’s probably said enough as is. She needs some alone time, and by the looks of it, so does he.
“…Alright then,” she mumbles dejectedly. “I’ll uh, see you later, y’know if I’m still here tomorrow and not back home.”
There’s a slim but not impossible chance that she’ll just wake up back home tomorrow. That would probably be best for everyone, which is why she’s almost certain it won’t happen. Life is rarely ever so considerate.
‘A girl can dream…’
“See you tomorrow, Aubrey,” Basil replies, not even bothering to acknowledge any other possibility.
Seems like they both know she’s going to be here for a while.
"Can I come over to your place tonight?" Aubrey asks, absentmindedly fiddling with a pencil she stole from class.
“O-Oh?” Kim splutters, an uncharacteristically nervous look on her face. “Sure! I mean, yeah, c-cool… how come?”
Another long boring day of pointless classes has come and gone. With the blessed sound of the school bell marking the end of her day in this academic purgatory and ushering her into her favourite part of the day. Hanging out with Kim.
“My place sucking not a good enough reason?” she asks, raising her eyebrow slightly. “I just wanna hang out with you for a bit, that's all," she adds casually. "If you're busy—"
“NO!” Kim cries, only for her face to flush with embarrassment. “I mean uh, nah, it’s chill. You can come over for a bit. Can’t spend the night though, sorry. Mom’s still insisting no sleepovers ‘til I get my grades up,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “I was gonna tell her about your whole uh… everything. But I figured you didn’t want me telling everyone about that.”
“It’s fine.”
It’s a shame, Kim’s couch is a lot comfier than her bed. But she wasn’t even going to ask about sleeping over tonight anyway. Truthfully, she hates how often she has to do it. But with her parents getting into a screaming match every other night, it's become something of a necessity if she wants a half-decent sleep.
It’s funny in a way. She never planned on telling Kim half the stuff she knows now, she didn’t even expect their friendship to last a week, but the delinquent has proven to be a reliable friend over these past few months. Plus, she’s smarter than she lets on, certainly clever enough to figure out Aubrey wasn’t so keen on sleepovers purely for the fun of them. Ideally, she wouldn’t have had to tell Kim about her home life, but the wannabe hooligan was pretty chill about the whole thing. Aubrey had always assumed she’d just get judged for her background, or worse receive that shallow sympathy people are so fond of sharing.
But no, Kim was genuinely respectful, she didn't judge her, didn't push her for more info, didn't pretend to understand, she just nodded her head and offered to help out where she could. It was a pleasant surprise, and it almost made her regret never telling Mari. She had always kept her home life under wraps. Mari almost definitely had some incline as to what was going on, and she straight up told Sunny about the worst of it. But only Basil actually saw her house, and even then, she never let him inside. Speaking of which…
“Say, mind if we pop by Othermart first?” she asks.
“Eh? Sure, why though?” Kim replies, chewing on the end of a lollipop stick, desperately trying to extract any remaining sugar.
‘You and Vance really are related, huh.’
“I wanna dye my hair,” she confesses with a sigh. “Think it’s about time.”
It’s a promise long overdue. Mari won’t be able to uphold it, but Aubrey will. Someone has to remember her.
“Oh shit,” Kim curses, fully understanding the implication of her words. "Yeah, of course! I've still got my stuff lying around, I'll spot you for the dye and we can get that sorted."
“Thanks, Kim, but you don’t need to, I’ve been saving up,” she replies.
Aubrey doesn't want to sound ungrateful, but this is something she needs to do. Obviously, she doesn't mind Kim helping, but buying it for her? That just doesn't sit right.
“Alright, if you’re sure,” her friend shrugs. “How come you wanna do it now though?”
Glancing past Kim she sees a crowd of her classmates making their way over to the school bus. All of them are talking amongst themselves, laughing and gossiping, with only a few individuals minding their own business as they stroll through the crowd. Then, at the very back of the horde, there’s one solitary boy, a familiar blonde, keeping a notable distance from the rest of his peers. He turns his head in her direction and they briefly lock eyes. She glares at him in response and he immediately turns away and quickens his pace.
Aubrey loosely clutches a few strands of her blonde hair, staring at them for a few seconds.
“I guess it just feels overdue.”
‘Blonde, blonde, grey,’ Aubrey thinks to herself, staring at the small ‘family’ portrait in the hallway leading to ‘her’ room.
It was one of the first truly bizarre things she witnessed today and the first sign that this wasn't just some insane fever dream or elaborate kidnapping plot from Basil. It freaked her out this morning, but now, staring at it, she just feels… sad. They all look happy here, like a proper family. The matching blonde mops make it so that Rey and Basil practically look like siblings.
Glancing around the hallway reveals that’s just one of several photos. As her eyes dart from picture to picture, she watches herself and Basil grow up together, watches as her hair goes from dark brown to blonde to pink, watches as Mrs Flower eventually stops appearing in the photos and Polly starts appearing instead. She feels her heart sink at the realisation of why and promptly decides to stop looking at them. Aubrey never had this, never lived this life, and yet somehow she still grieves having lost it. The only difference between her and Rey was one single day. She doesn't want to blame Mari… but Aubrey could have had this if she hadn't—
She quickly halts that train of thought before it goes any further. Mari was suffering, she made her choice, and they all have to live with it…
‘Except you don’t here. She lives here.’
…But that’s exactly it. Why? Why did Mari choose to stick around here? To keep living in a world where she maimed her brother but leave him—leave them behind in a world where he’s fine? Accident or not, that seems like the obvious tipping point. It almost feels like these two worlds got some details mixed up. It would make more sense if Mari lived in her world and died here! Not the other way around! There is a chance that Mari might still have those same thoughts in this world, and if so, Aubrey will do everything in her power to stop her from… from leaving again. She failed her once, she won’t do it again.
But if Mari doesn’t feel that way… then why? What happened here that made such a difference? Did they miss something? Did she miss something?
It’s obvious she’s not seeing the full picture here, but she has absolutely no idea what said picture could be. Mari's suicide never made any sense to her, but having spent a day here, it somehow makes even less sense.
“You must really miss her,” a soft voice calls out, instantly gaining Aubrey’s attention.
It’s Polly. She's stood in the hallway with a solemn yet sympathetic expression on her face. Aubrey struggles to muster a response, having been taken completely off guard by the comment. Obviously, she was talking about Mrs Flower, but for a brief moment, Aubrey wondered if she had been thinking aloud. Thankfully, that's not the case; she's not sure how she would explain herself mourning someone who's still alive in this world.
“She lived a good life,” Polly adds, her tone kind and calming. “And she’s in a better place now.”
“Yeah,” Aubrey agrees. “She is.”
That’s one thing she is absolutely sure of. Mrs Flower was a good woman, if anyone was going to end up in a better place after passing, it would be her.
There's an awkward stretch of silence following her words, with Polly clearly lost in thought, and herself unsure of what to say next. Aubrey has a feeling this is going to be a reoccurring issue. She didn't grow up in this world, so there is always going to be a certain level of emotional disconnect between herself and this world's residents. She can feel sad about Mrs Flower sure, but she can't truly relate to whatever Polly is feeling right now. It's not that she doesn't want to, she just… can't. She could say something, but she might just come off as insincere, and she hates shallow sympathy.
“I’m uh gonna head to bed now,” she eventually states.
“This early?” the caretaker asks, sounding eerily similar to her ward.
“It’s been a long day,” she admits with a sigh.
‘Understatement of the century.’
“I see, well, get some rest okay?” Polly says.
“Will do.”
With that somewhat awkward conversation concluded Aubrey quickly heads to 'her' room. Luckily, she remembers which one it was from this morning, although it does occur to her that said room likely used to be Mrs Flower's. She decides not to dwell on that thought for long, although she does briefly wonder where Rey slept before the elder woman’s passing.
‘Probably just slept on the couch or something,’ she reasons to herself. Either that or she and Basil used to share a room, which is another thought she doesn’t want to give much time to.
Taking a second to truly take in the room, she’s greeted by the same flower wallpaper seen throughout the rest of the house, albeit with a blue tint instead of the usual green colour. Said walls are covered in posters, some of which are of bands she likes, and a couple more are of some games she used to play at Kel’s place. Her exclusive Spaceboy poster is still there too, much to her relief.
An old console lies in a clear plastic box underneath her desk. Even at a glance, it’s obvious that it sees somewhat regular use, as there’s only a thin layer of dust coating it. Her eyes don’t linger on the desk for long though, as they’re quickly drawn to a large pen in the corner of the room. Bunbun sleeps peacefully within the enclosure, looking notably fluffier than she remembers.
“Even you’ve got it better here,” she muses aloud as she crouches down to pet the small fluffball.
Leaving the rabbit to it’s rest, she stands back up and continues to glance around ‘her’ room. It’s cosy, comfy, and overall, very her. Not the first time today, Aubrey finds herself feeling rather jealous of her counterpart. In contrast to the blue-tinted walls, her bedding is a bright pink, complete with fluffy white pillows, and a familiar eggplant plushie lying on top of them.
“Oh, Mr Plantegg…” she laments, picking up the old toy.
Despite herself, she gives the plushie a firm hug, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across her face as the soft fabric of the stuffed toy squishes against her skin.
‘I missed this.’
Mr Plantegg was her favourite, and if she’s being honest, only, toy growing up. She used to take it everywhere with her, but it went missing after Mari died. She never did find out what happened to it, and just chalked its disappearance up to the universe pouring salt on her wounds. She's really glad to see it again.
“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” she mumbles. “What do you think Mr Plantegg?” she asks, holding the plushie out in front of her. Using her right hand to make the stuffed toy nod it’s massive head in agreement, she chuckles a little before suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Okay, I think that’s enough of that.”
Carefully placing the toy back on the bed, her eyes squint as she notices something else on the bed, a small lump under the sheets. Tilting her head in curiosity, she moves the bedding out of the way, revealing… Basil’s photo album. There’s a small sticky note on top of it, which reads:
“Have a proper look this time,” -Basil.
There’s a small doodle of a sunflower next to his signature.
Aubrey figures he must have done this at some point after dinner, or maybe whilst she was in the bathroom talking to Rey. Either way, she wonders whether he still would have left her this had he known the whole story earlier. How she had tortured his counterpart over this very possession.
…Still, it’d be rude to decline the offer, and she has been curious about this thing for a while now.
Slowly peeling the sticky note off of the front cover, she scrunches the paper in her hand, compressing it into a small ball which she discards into a nearby wastebin, hitting a (rather impressive if she might say) shot from across the room. Plopping down onto the comfy bed, she kicks her shoes off, takes a deep breath and finally opens the album to the first page.
Unsurprisingly, it’s all the same old photos at first. Flicking through the pages, reveals nothing new, although it is a nice trip down memory lane, that is… until summer ends. It goes from birthdays and beach trips into the final few photos… into Sunny and Mari’s rehearsals. Those pictures always held a sense of foreboding doom, but with everything she’s learnt today… yeah, Mari’s smiling face doesn’t exactly provide the same comfort it used to. The description of the very last photo reads:
“After some begging, SUNNY came to join MARI for recital practice... Hehe... They're still working out some stuff, but they already sound so amazing! I know they're going to be great. Go, MARI! Go, SUNNY! You can do it!”
Reading each photo’s description makes it more and more obvious just how bad things were getting behind the scenes. That same page mentions Mari getting home late and getting flustered over her performance. It paints a picture of something horrible bubbling beneath the surface, something that in this world eventually erupted into… the accident.
Suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, she furrows her brow and contemplates dropping the album for tonight. She did come here with the intention to unwind after all, and this is about as far from relaxation as she can get. Still, despite her reservations, she ultimately resolves to carry on anyway. Taking a deep breath, she musters all her courage and flips to the next page.
It’s so surreal to see new pages in this thing. It had always come to an abrupt yet fitting halt after the rehearsal photos, but now there’s more, and she’s not sure how to feel about that fact.
There’s an immediate mood shift with these new photos. The rest of Autumn has been skipped in its entirety, instead, the photos pick back up in the midst of winter. The first photo is of that year's Christmas, it seems to be taken at the Suzuki household, if Aubrey remembers the layout of the house properly. It shows Sunny standing alone in a hallway, just barely illuminated by the streetlight pouring in through a nearby window, he's staring at a small, black piece of cloth in his hands.
‘An eyepatch,’ Aubrey realises. His eyepatch. The one he was wearing all day.
The description next to the photo is shorter than some of the previous ones. It simply reads:
“The past couple of months have been... difficult. But Christmas calls! I think everyone wanted to make sure SUNNY had a good one. I wasn’t sure what to get him at first, but I think he likes it.”
The next couple of photos cover New Year's Eve and by extension Hero's birthday party. There's one picture of Hero and Kel (fruitlessly on the latter's half) comparing each other’s heights, another photo shows herself chasing Kel with a sparkler, and the final one is of Faraway’s firework show. Its description is even shorter than the last, all it says is:
“I hope this one’s better.”
Aubrey wonders if her Basil wished for the same thing. If he did, she’s certain he was thoroughly disappointed.
The album always jumped across the year, Basil was very particular with what photos he decided to put in this thing. But even by those standards, the jumps in time displayed here are insane. They went from Christmas to New Year's in a single page, and now, these next couple of pages seem to take place near the end of Spring, having skipped the rest of Winter. If Aubrey had to guess, she’d say they probably weren’t hanging out as much in the aftermath of the accident. The thought stings a little, but it is a good reality check. A good reminder that this world isn't as perfect as it seems.
The first photo on the next two-page spread is of Sunny flying a kite whilst sitting next to Hero on a park bench. The former is wearing the black eyepatch she now knows to be a gift from Basil. The next one seems to be an immediate follow-up; the photo is slightly blurred and off-kilter and shows a panicked Hero chasing after Basil who has lost control of the kite and is in the process of tripping over himself whilst trying to steady it. The description explains that Sunny took this one because he wanted Basil to have a go with the kite, although the flower boy, quote “will stick to gardening from now on". Aubrey smirks slightly and glances at the next polaroid, which displays a rather impressive slam dunk from Kel, who’s wearing a black and orange jersey that’s way too big for him.
‘Guess that’s where the obsession began,’ she thinks to herself.
There are a couple more random photos, all of which are clearly taken from different dates from across the season. One of Rey (now with dyed blonde hair) and Kel arguing over Orange Joe, followed by another of her trying to bench-press Basil (for some reason), which according to it’s description “didn’t go so well”.
It’s the final photo that really gets her attention though. It’s a selfie of Basil and Rey, both wearing tired yet genuine smiles, the description reads:
“New Year, new roomie! It’s been a bit messy, but GRANDMA was kind enough to let AUBREY stay here for a while. It’s strange sharing a room, but I’ve always wanted a sibling! It’s like a permanent sleepover! I do think SUNNY is getting the wrong idea though… I should probably talk to him about that.”
Next to the comment about her being good company, there’s a comment scrawled in a familiar handwriting that reads: “Softie!”. Aubrey has a pretty good inclination as to who wrote that message, she can recognise her own handwriting after all. There’s another comment at the very end, right after the mention of Sunny that reads: “Huh? About what?”
Using basic deductive reasoning and comparing her own experiences to what she's seeing here, Aubrey is able to make a rough timeline of events in her head. She had always intended to run away in the New Year; Mom had been getting worse and worse with every passing day, and Dad was so rarely home that it was hardly a surprise when he just didn't return one day. In her world, she aborted that plan after realising she had nowhere to go, stormed out of the house in a fit, bumped into Basil and then beat the daylights out of him. But in this world…
Aubrey decides not to linger on the photo any longer, instead turning over to the next page. It’s mostly more of the same, it’s summer time and it looks like the group decided to do another beach trip. Interestingly, this is the first time Mari has appeared since the rehearsal photos. She feels her throat tighten at the sight of the young woman, but she can't take her eyes off her either. It's immediately obvious how tired Mari is, her hair is just a little bit longer than she usually keept it, there are noticeable bags under her eyes, and a small, jagged scar runs along her right cheek.
‘From the accident…’ Aubrey assumes.
Still, Mari is smiling here; she’s alive here. Tired sure, but alive and happy, surrounded by friends and family despite everything she’s been through. It takes her a second, but eventually, Aubrey realises that she’s smiling at the bonfire before her, more specifically, at the smouldering wooden cane at it’s heart. She had almost forgotten that Mari had to use one after the accident here. By the looks of it, she wasn’t a big fan of the thing.
Ignoring that detail, the photo is rather pleasant. Although, it is bittersweet to see them all going on another beach trip to Close Bay again. She hasn’t been up that way since… since…
‘That can’t be right.’
She hasn’t been there since she was twelve, and yet… it feels like she was just there the other day. But that doesn't make any sense…
Feeling another headache forming, she decides to keep scrolling, and as she does, the time jumps between pages gradually become less drastic. There are a couple of pages dedicated to this summer alone.
As Summer transitions into Autumn, Aubrey finds herself lost in the sea of smiling faces, she tries her best to memorise each one, to hold these memories she never experienced close to her heart. But it’s just too much, it’s overwhelming in a way that’s hard to explain, and so, despite her best efforts, much of the album's content becomes a blur to her.
There’s a photo of that year’s Halloween. Rey’s got her pink hair now and is dressed in an eggplant costume, Kel’s gone as a dog, Sunny as a pirate, Basil as Jackson, and Hero and Mari have just reused their costumes from last year, which is kind of lazy.
Another photo shows another Christmas; it’s the first new photo of Sunny and Mari together that she’s seen. The younger Suzuki is being crushed in a bear hug by his older sister. According to Basil’s description, she really liked her gift from him, although the flower boy neglected to specify what he bought her. Most of his captions now are accompanied by a comment of her own, this one simply reads: “SO CUTE!"
There’s a photo of a snow Kel. The next photo reveals it wasn’t a snowman dressed like Kel, but was instead the real Kel inside of a snowman. The photo after that shows them all sitting on the couch in the Flower residence, hot chocolates in hand. Kel is wrapped in a comical amount of blankets.
More photos blur together, and she goes through most of Spring barely processing any of it. She does take note of the first photo of that Summer. It’s Rey, rocking her trademark pink-haired ponytail… alongside Mari… with bright purple hair. The whole description is clearly written by Rey this time:
“Me and Mari finally dyed our hair together! I can't believe how cute we look! I also saw Mari with blonde hair, haha, I wish Hero could have seen that!”
Aubrey suddenly starts to flick through the pages a lot faster.
Months fly by, and she watches as her counterpart and her friends age with every passing picture. She sees countless park trips, movie nights, holidays and more. She sees a remorseful Basil dabble with the emo aesthetic and immediately regret it, watches Sunny cycle through a series of increasingly intricate pirate costumes every Halloween, witnesses Kel become more and more proficient with his basketball, gawks at a picture of Mari and Hero kissing under a firework display, and sees herself and the younger Suzuki becoming closer and closer.
She doesn’t even realise they’re already dating until she sees a couple’s cosplay of them for Halloween, with Rey as Sweetheart and Sunny as Spaceboy. She’s got her arm wrapped around him and is sticking her tongue out at the camera. There’s an uncharacteristically wide smile on Sunny’s face.
Frantically, she flips over to the next page and—
There’s only one photo across the two-page spread. A noticeably older polaroid of Mrs Flower, with a date scribbled on it, as well as “RIP". The rest of the space is filled with mournful memoirs from each of her friends. Letting out a shaky breath, she continues forward.
It doesn't take much longer for her to be all caught up. There’s Mari and Hero setting off for their next year at College, a couple of park photos, and then the final polaroid is dated as only being a couple of days old. It’s another selfie, showing Rey and Basil posed next to a stack of VHS tapes.
“AUBREY and I are gonna watch the entire JACKSON nonology! (That’s nine movies!) I’ve heard the first couple are really scary, but I’ve only ever seen the last few haha… Those ones aren’t the scariest." Basil's description reads. Next to it, Rey's rather blunt comment adds: "THEY SUCK!"
Then it stops. Just like that. The rest of the pages, what few of them remain, are left blank.
Aubrey feels a sudden wetness on her cheeks and wisely decides to close the album before her tears stain the pages. Moving it aside, she collapses onto the bed and absentmindedly stares at the ceiling.
What else is there to even say at this point? She knew she’d been robbed of her childhood—she’s known that for a long time now. But to see it, to know what she could have had if things had just gone a little differently...
It’s soul-crushing.
Like some deep, jagged gash in her soul has been torn even wider.
She tries to close her eyes, but as she does, her mind is flooded with memories she never lived through. Pictures of purple hair and smiling Suzukis plague her thoughts. Cycling endlessly through envy, grief, and bitterness, all she can think of is what she lost. She wouldn’t wish this kind of pain on her worst enemies.
To know what could have been is a curse.
Tilting her head to the side, her tears trail down her face, soaking into the fabric below and forming a small damp patch on her pillow. Her eyes drift over to her desk—specifically, to an item she’d missed until now. A small potted plant.
A Hoya Kerrii.
“Wow,” Kim mumbles, appearing almost comically slack-jawed. “I mean—damn! It looks great, probably my best work yet!”
Aubrey reaches her hand out to the mirror in front of her, caressing her reflection’s cheek. Her hair is a bright, electric pink. It’s exactly what she imagined. Beautiful but badass. She just wishes Mari could see her now.
“Uhhh, Aubs, you’re crying,” Kim notes.
“It’s the chemicals,” Aubrey lies. “They're stinging my eyes… You did a good job Kim… thank you.”
“Anytime!”
‘Mari… am I still pretty?’
Once the tears dry up, Aubrey ends up getting changed into her counterpart's pyjamas. Although, it'd be more accurate to say she haphazardly stripped down to her underwear and flung on the baggiest shirt she could find in Rey’s drawer. It’s a black shirt with a white cat silhouette on the front. Not really her style, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that she and Rey aren’t as similar as they seem. Besides, it’s comfy, and that’s all that matters.
Some people might consider it a step backwards to curl up in bed and sob into your old plushie. God knows she spent enough of her childhood doing that. But it doesn't feel like regression. If anything, it almost feels like a step forward.
Today has been emotionally draining on a scale that’s hard to quantify. But she got through it.
There’s still a lot to fix and a lot more to set straight, sure, but she made it through today, and that’s good enough for now. Tomorrow, she’ll wake a girl reborn, ready to face whatever trials this universe throws at her next.
'So bring it on,' she thinks to herself, smiling softly as she rests in bed.
Today has been one of the worst days of her life, but it’s also been eye-opening—and actually, kind of fun at times. Her mind is still a sea of turmoil and regret, but deep down… she’s grateful for the day's events. She likes to think she would’ve come to the same conclusion about Basil on her own eventually, but sometimes… well, sometimes you’ve just got to learn things the hard way.
However, if tomorrow proves to be easier, then she will not be complaining.