Trees (an omori fic)

Remember, middle school friends and the way you laughed

I don't remember, falling asleep, but I remember waking up. I stumbled down to our kitchen to see mom making waffles.

"Sit down sunny." She says she puts a play in front of me. He been on the syrup and whip cream, "how are you feeling?"

She passes me a sticky note and pen. I scribbled down a meh face, and a few key words.

Pain. Dizzy. Upset.

I leave a couple words, like empty, and missing Nik but I kind of hate him.

She takes the post it note from me, glances over it, and nods.

"Nik explained what happened. I didn't know you're... Everything... That you've gotten this bad." She takes a deep breath in. "I know Mari's death was hard on you, and the town brings back bad memories, but your dad lives semi-close, and I think it will do you good to reconnect with your old friends."

My eyes widened in shock.

"You need your dad, and friends. Not a boyfriend, not sex, not alcohol. You leave in three days. I'll help you pack after you eat."

She doesn't bother passing a Post-it note to see my feelings on this one.

I keep trying to postpone packing, but eventually, I cannot resist.

I think only what I need. My boxers. My button down light colored shirts. Vests. Shorts. Polaroid pictures of Nik and I, identical ones with my old middle school friends. My violin. Sheet music to the duet that never was, to the two person symphony that never ceases to stop playing in my brain.

When I'm done, I know I can face neither my mother, nor Nik so I pull out my phone and scroll on TikTok.

I don't know where the hours went, but eventually mom comes up to my room.

"Sunny, you never gave me a heart attack!" She burst into my room, her face twisted into an expression of worry. "Please, at least be on your phone in the living room. I just... Can't deal with all of this."

I look at her for a few seconds, then slowly hold out my hand, motioning for a Post-it note and pen.

I write slowly on purpose. Mom sympathizing over my illness helps me get away with things.

Sorry, I write. I pause for a second, then add, I love you, and draw a heart.

I hold it out to mom, who smiles.

"Dinners ready by the way. That's why I was trying to find you." She tells me.

I ate dinner. The table is silent, as it always is. If I could talk, I would never shut up. I know how loud silence can be when another person refuses to fill it.

I sit in the living room after dinner and doom scroll some more. I should be texting my father to or be trying to hang out with Nik or spending time with mom, but it all feels so pointless.

I met Nik when I was 14. I was going through puberty and was horny, which was a nice distraction for my overwhelming amounts of grief I was going through.

I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, and wished, I prayed, hoping with all my might for god to send me the boy of my desires.

So late, the higher power I was barely faithful to delivered.

September 26th.

A boy had moved from the middle of nowhere, Idaho to a small city in California.

This boy had skin light cream, and dazzling green eyes. His hair was a dusty, blondish brown. He had these skinny little stick arms, but he was, and still is, tall like a willow.

He was assigned the seat next to me, and to work on a group project with me.

We had around the small piece of paper, and I breathed in his cinnamon and fresh baked bread smell.

Noticing I hadn't said a word, he looked at me, his green eyes staring right into mine.

"Shy? Scared? Mute?" he offered.

His voice was like, honey, warm and soft and sweet.

I nodded.

"All three?" 

Another nod.

"Damn." he started. I wasn't used to hearing people curse. Sure, sometimes my dad would do it and sometimes Aubrey, but someone like this? Who I barely know?

It was so sexy.

He continued, "I've never met a mute person before. Vocal cord problem, or are you screwy in the head?"

I pointed to my head.

"Damn."

I fell for Nik, with his green eyes, and damns. I loved when he adjusted to California, his hair blonde, his skin caramel, his arms strong.

Nik loved me, though I burned in the sun, and I was frail and had dark circles. 

Two years. And I was leaving him.

When mom fell asleep, I didn't. I went to the bathroom and puked. I wasn't sick, I didn't care about being skinny, I just felt gross.

(771 words)

(Title from Blue Eyes Like The Devil's Water by McCafferty)