ｏｍｏｒｉ： １０ ｙｅａｒｓ (2022 ver)

friday

warnings: self-harm, fresh injuries, death, funerals/wakes, nausea/fatigue and hallucinations

"Sunny, we've gotta talk."

"What is there to talk about?" I responded to the members of the band, who were huddled around me like I was on my death bed. I sat up, groaning a little from a throbbing pain that moved around in my head. I felt like I was having the world's worst hangover, but I hadn't touched a drop last night.

Charlie opened his mouth to talk, but Sashi interrupted him, her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. "We don't think you should be playing tonight's show."

"Wha- This is the final show in Faraway. I can't just... not play! I'd be letting down the rest of the group if I didn't."

"You're not mentally well enough for a show," Kye said, a gentle tone in his voice. "Your behaviour the past few days has... raised some concerns, to put it gently."

"What do you mean?"

"Silver's walked in to check on you multiple times, and she's found you asleep. But, while you're asleep, you've been screaming and talking, scratching and hitting yourself, stuff like that. Have you seen your knuckles?"

I looked down to my hands to see how my hands were bruised and battered. They had fresh scrapes all over them, they were turning a gross shade of purple-red, and they hurt like hell. Moving my fingers made me inhale quickly through my teeth with pain. That action made me realise how raw my throat felt. It was painful. All of it. The three other scratches pointed out in Charlie's live stream were still there as well. That must have also been my fault.

"We had to try and wake you before someone called the cops to report a possible murder. You're lucky this room's soundproof for recording reasons," Silver muttered, twirling a drumstick between her fingers.

"I'm worried about you, Sunny," Charlie stated, a genuine look in his eyes. He passed me some bandaids, a packet of throat lozenges and some bruise cream. "Here. I picked these up at the Othermart."

"I appreciate your concerns, but I'm fine. I'm just having some bad dreams," I croaked out quietly, furrowing my brows with frustration. "I'm playing tonight."

"I really don't think-" Poppy began before a frustrated Sashi cut her off.

"He said he's playing, so he's going to play. Let him be."

"Well, we could at least give him the option of backing out," Charlie defended Poppy, his gaze stern. "Sunny, if at any point you think you're not going to be able to play, let me know and we can figure things out, ok?"

I reluctantly accepted his offer. "Alright, thank you."

"You're welcome. Bandage up your hands, get ready for some practice, write some new songs, ok? See what that big brain of yours can think of. We're going to do a full rehearsal in three hours."

I nodded as they all left to go to their separate rooms. Sighing a little, I grabbed the bruise cream and started to fix myself up. Glancing back to the dream I had, I sighed. The interactions with Sweetheart, the strange woman, everything else. It was a lot more exhausting than normal. And, it killed my throat. Using my plastic water bottle, I took my antidepressant before sticking a throat lozenge into my mouth. It tasted zingy, and not in any good way.

My dressing room room had a piano in the corner. It wasn't anything special, and it was kind of off-key, but it worked well. Unlike Mari, I had never taken any kind of proper lessons, but I knew the tiniest bit from her teaching me and general practice in high school. The piano was Omori brand. That's how I got my name. Sitting down in front of it, I placed my hand on the keys. Write a new song... The task seemed rather daunting, but I still tried.