ｏｍｏｒｉ： １０ ｙｅａｒｓ (2022 ver)

sunday

warnings: mentions of death/manslaughter, mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of substance abuse, course language/blasphemy

"I have something to tell you."

God... It feels like forever since I told them.

"I killed her."

The looks on their faces... It's painful to watch.

"I killed Mari."

My eyes snapped open to the sounds of horrendously loud cheers. I was holding my violin tightly, gripping the neck as if I was trying to choke it. The stage lights that burned their way through my vision added unnecessary heat to the sweat that clamoured around my body.

It's... over already.

I never asked for this, but this is how life turned out. I'm Sunny White, violinist of the hit band Star Navy. Dominating the charts with our music ever since we released our first single. One of the most obvious industry plants in existence. To put it simply, my agent made the decision to ship me and the others all the way back to my hometown to play a few concerts. I hadn't talked to any of my old friends in ten years. I... I hardly remembered their faces. After I told them about Mari, they left.

The hatred in Hero and Aubrey's eyes, and the betrayal in Kel's.

I never even got to say goodbye.

I put on a grey hooded jumper and a backpack as soon as I got offstage. I was going out. It'd be good to find out how fast I could see the bottom of a glass again. Somewhere away from the people that I was forced into work with. I remember the conversation I had with my mother.

"Sunny, come on. Take a chance, for Mommy? You know how much we need this."

"..."

"Look, honey." She held my face gently, but her touch was still overwhelmingly cold. I know you want to go into art school, I really do, we just... We can't afford it yet. Your father isn't out, and we're barely getting by from our jobs. I promise, as soon as we pay off this loan you can stop and we'll get you into the school you want, okay? You're a talented artist, really, but... art can't pay the bills yet."

I remember wanting to yell at my mother's face about how she lied, but I decided it would be better to keep my mouth shut. She was struggling enough, having an ungrateful son would just make matters worse. Sometimes, I wish I spoke up sooner.

When I pulled back the door, the sporadic camera flashes overwhelmed my vision. The eye that worked would have been blinded too if I couldn't get out of there. Screams of 'Sunny, Sunny, look at me!', 'Oh my god, it's Sunny!' roared through the crowds as I tried to shield my face from all the light. I could make out visions of waved photos, large signs, and obsessive fans flashing things I never wanted to see from behind my jumper sleeve. Thank god for the bodyguards. If they weren't there I wouldn't have been able to dash into an alleyway and out of public sight. Great. I had been spotted.

I crouched to the ground, pulling out a second jumper from my bag; one that was a different colour. I was taught a trick of the trade by the older members of the band in my early weeks there: a second, wildly different jacket is always necessary, so nobody would recognise me. After I stashed the old jumper into my bag, I began to make my way out of the alleyway and into the street. But, as soon as I did, I could feel a force against me. I had ran into something. Or rather, someone. Someone who would change my entire week. I could feel and smell as warm coffee coated my chest. In fear of being burned, I immediately ripped the jacket off of my body and threw it onto the ground. The other let out a small squeak of shock.