Amour Propre (OMORI)

Phosphene

A man with dark brown hair and glasses approached a ringing phone. "Hello? Dell Winery, what can we do for you?" He greeted his phone as he always did. It was the best way to keep up appearances.

"Dell, this is Geralt. Do you not have Caller ID?" A man on the other end inquired.

"Well, Geralt, you use a new phone every time you call me, so caller ID or not, you wouldn't be showing up. Now, mind telling me what's got you calling me ahead of schedule? It better be for good reason," Dell impatiently asked, quickly lighting a cigarette as he spoke through his ancient landline.

Geralt promptly answered with a smile that could be heard through the phone, "Remember when you said to call you as soon as I find a doctor willing to work for us?"

Dell smiled to himself, too, squashing the cigarette into the ashtray next to him before it was finished. His excitement could be heard in his quiet laugh, "Not bad, Geralt. There's gotta be a catch with you, though. Lemme guess, a specialist in plastic surgery? Maybe still a student?"

"The latter, but he's supposed to graduate next year, this year only being around two years in the program. He's real ahead of the curve. C'mon, Dell, I never led ya wrong!" Geralt assured. Dell wasn't the most convinced, but he didn't have any other doctors who he could use instead, did he?

"Fine, fine." Dell chuckled before continuing, "So, since you're on the line, how's progress on the hunt?" He was pretty hopeful but was sourly disappointed.

"So far... er... only one guy. I think you might have to get your hands dirty, killing maybe the head of Hell's Angels or somethin'." Geralt suggested.

"Look, you got a deadline, keep lookin' 'til then." Dell's usual quiet tone was beginning to grow in volume, allowing his southern accent to come through.

He slammed the phone down onto the receiver and kicked a tasting table, making it shake. "Dag nabbit!" He shouted, slamming his fist on the desk where he had initially answered the phone. He then quieted down, taking a deep breath, "Calm down, Dell. It'll be fine. You have another fifty plans you can use. This ain't the only lifeline."

The man sighed and moved to the piano in the back corner of the room. Usually, a paid player would come and play this during events, but he was alone, so he played for himself instead.

Only a short dance up the keyboard and a new listener entered the room. "Dell, who called earlier?" A dark-skinned man asked as he approached the piano.

Dell paused his playing for a moment to answer, "Geralt. He found a doctor," before continuing. As he played, he added, "Ain't that exciting, Biran?"

"How about finding our enforcers? And have you found transportation?" Biran asked, rubbing his chin with consideration.

"You worry too much. Calm your horses, and whatnot. Geralt has it handled, and if he doesn't, then I got a backup plan. As for transportation, I think I figured something out, and I know a guy who can teleport small objects who can set all this in motion. Old buddy of mine named Jeremy. He's gullible and wouldn't mind helping me out so long as he doesn't know what we're doing." Dell exposited, quelling Biran's worries easily.

Biran nodded, "You're right. Your quirk isn't called 'Hyperintelligence' as a joke. I shouldn't be acting so anxious. We've got this."

"We've got this." Dell confirmed, adjusting his glasses.

"We've got this." Basil assured Sunny as he held the letter in his hand.

Sunny successfully opened the envelope without ripping it, and he flipped it over.

A few seconds passed, and nothing came out. Sunny felt his shoulders slump naturally with disappointment. As they did, they jostled the envelope, making the paper fall out with a thud, as though something were in the paper. Sunny's disappointment turned to tentative excitement.

Basil's face was bright when Sunny looked at it. He looked so happy. It almost made Sunny want to... actually, that thought was probably one that shouldn't be shared.

Sunny activated the disk, and the two watched. "Sunny Dorian, you, young man, have exhibited outstanding heroism during the practical exam. Saving one hostage and destroying six robots, you have a bright future. In the following year, you will become a member of Class 1-B and will now be representing the Kingston Institute of Heroism as a whole! So be on your best behaviour! The rest of your information, such as class schedule, yadda yadda, it'll all be in the papers provided. Good luck out there, and stay safe!" Captain Canuck said, suspiciously similar to what he said to Basil.

"Did they have AI base these videos off of one video that Captain Canuck recorded?" Basil said, a bit disappointed at the shattered illusion.

Sunny wasn't surprised that Captain Canuck wouldn't want to record all the videos himself. He couldn't really blame him there, either. He wouldn't want to do all that either. Imagining how many students got accepted... it may be significantly less than were in the tests, but it would still be a lot.

It didn't really matter. What did matter was that him and Basil were in the same class. Sunny silently celebrated, thanking a god he didn't even believe existed.

Class 1-B... finally, he could start his journey to avenge Mari. And... to protect everyone left who he loved... like... Basil.

Sunny looked at Basil and felt his stomach get those butterflies he usually got when he looked at him for too long as of late. Basil looked back and smiled at him. His heart beat even faster.

He was reluctant to admit it, but it was probably factual. He was in love with his best friend. It was years since homophobia was a real and prevalent issue in Canada, so thankfully, he didn't have to worry about that. The real problem was... well, he had a crush on his best friend. That could ruin a friendship, regardless of sexuality.

Sunny grimaced to himself as he thought of all the ways he could be rejected. Maybe, until a little bit of testing of the waters, Sunny should keep these feelings to himself.