Somewhere We've Been Before.

Forgetting.

     Today marks the first anniversary of Mari Suzuki's' death. A beloved daughter, sister, friend, and girlfriend who was cherished by many people. On that very day, the sun lost the glow it had once before, the birds couldn't manage to sing the song they had every morning prior, the color that the town of Faraway once had was washed away, and the music... truly died.

...

     Sunny Suzuki lay cocooned in the warmth of his sister's cozy bed, the familiar scent of lavender and fabric softener wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. It was a stark contrast to the cold, empty space of his own room, which felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary. He had swapped beds after Mari, his sister, had noticed his struggles with sleep, her gentle concern a balm for his restless nights. But now, with her absence echoing through the house, even the softest sheets felt like a reminder of what he had lost.

    A year had passed since Mari's passing, yet the world outside continued to spin, indifferent to his grief. Sunny had withdrawn from school, the hallways that once buzzed with laughter and chatter now felt like a foreign land. His friends, once a source of comfort, had become distant figures, their attempts to reach out --especially Aubrey's'-- met with his silence. He felt like a ghost, haunting the spaces he used to inhabit, invisible to those who once cared.

    His mother, overwhelmed by the weight of her own sorrow, often left notes scattered around Sunny's wall, each one a gentle nudge urging him to eat, to do chores, to take care of himself. But the thought of food turned his stomach, and the chores felt insurmountable. The vibrant meals she used to prepare now lay untouched in the fridge, a testament to his fading appetite.

    With his mother frequently absent, working extra shifts to make ends meet after his father's departure, Sunny felt a profound sense of neglect. His father had always seemed to prioritize Mari, showering her with affection and attention that Sunny had craved but never received. He could never resend his sister for it though, he loved her. After Mari's death, his father had vanished without a word, leaving behind a silence that was more deafening than any argument. Sunny couldn't help but wonder if he had ever been worth the effort to stay if perhaps he was just a shadow in the background of his family's life.

    As the weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, his eyelids grew heavy, the world around him fading into a blur. He welcomed the drifting off, a sweet surrender to the darkness that beckoned him. At that moment, he longed for a sleep that would last forever, a place where pain and sorrow could no longer reach him. The idea of escaping into an eternal slumber felt like a comforting promise, a way to silence the chaos of his heart and mind. Unfortunately, that was un-inevitable for him. Sunny drifted to sleep.

...

      Aubrey lay in bed, feeling abandoned. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through her curtains, casting long shadows across her room, but it did little to brighten her mood. Why hadn't her friends reached out? She had hoped for a heartfelt reunion after their struggles, a moment where they could all come together, share their burdens, and emerge stronger. But as she stared at the ceiling, she realized such moments were only in films, scripted and polished, devoid of the messy reality of life. 

     Her closest friends were drifting away, each caught up in their own lives, their battles. Kel was busy with new friendships, laughing and sharing experiences that felt foreign to Aubrey now. Hero was overwhelmed with school, buried under assignments and deadlines, his once vibrant spirit dimmed by the weight of expectations. Sunny had distanced himself, his laughter a distant memory, Aubrey wanted nothing more than to hear it again. And then there was Basil, who had cut off contact entirely, leaving a gaping hole in Aubrey's heart that she couldn't quite understand. Could they even be called friends? What kind of friends abandon you when you need them? Apparently, they do.

     Aubrey's frustration grew as dusk fell, the shadows in her room deepening, mirroring the darkness that was creeping into her thoughts. She felt like a ghost in her own life, haunting the memories of laughter and camaraderie that now felt like a cruel joke. The anger she inherited from her father surged within her, a tempest that threatened to consume her. It was a fire that burned hot and bright, this never used to happen before, not until she was abandoned by people she had thought loved her most.

    She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to spill. The weight of isolation pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless. She thought of the countless times they had promised to be there for each other, to stand united against the world. Yet here she was, alone, grappling with feelings of betrayal and hurt. The silence from her friends was deafening, a reminder of the chasm that had formed between them. How could they forget about Aubrey, and most painfully, Mari?

    As the night deepened, Aubrey's mind raced with memories of better times—late-night talks, spontaneous adventures, and the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone. But those memories felt tainted now, overshadowed by the reality of her current situation. She longed for connection, for someone to reach out and remind her that she mattered, that she was still part of something. But, before she could think of anything else, her intense emotions put her off to sleep. That was probably a good thing.

...

      Kel paces restlessly in the small, dimly lit room he shares with his older brother, Hero, the walls adorned with posters of their favorite bands and a few scattered textbooks. The faint glow of a desk lamp casts a warm light over Hero, who is hunched over his homework, scribbling notes with a furrowed brow. The rhythmic sound of Kel's footsteps echoes in the otherwise quiet space, a stark contrast to the focused silence that envelops Hero.

"Kel, why don't you just go to bed? Your footsteps are distracting," Hero says irritably, glancing up from his notes, his eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance. 

"Hey! I'm not the one who needs sleep. You've been at it all night!" Kel retorts, scoffing as he stops pacing for a moment, crossing his arms defiantly. 

   The tension in the room is palpable, a mix of frustration and concern. Hero sighs, running a hand through his hair, the weight of the night pressing down on him. "You're right. It's just Freshman year. Let's both get some rest," he concedes, his voice softening as he meets Kel's gaze. There's a shared understanding in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pressures they both face. 

    They share a gentle smile, a fleeting moment of camaraderie that momentarily lifts the heaviness in the air. It's a reminder that despite the chaos of their lives, they have each other to lean on. The smile fades as the reality of their situation settles back in, the guilt from Mari's passing lingering like a shadow in the corners of their minds, though they don't speak of it. Mari was Heros' girlfriend. He knew it would hurt Hero to bring it up. With a resigned sigh, Kel finally moves to his bed, the mattress creaking slightly as he sits down. He pulls the covers over himself, the warmth enveloping him like a comforting embrace. 

    Hero follows suit, turning off the desk lamp and allowing the room to be bathed in darkness, save for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. As the silence deepens, Kel quickly drifts off to sleep, his mind finally quieting after the restless pacing. Hero, too, finds solace in the stillness, his eyelids growing heavy as he succumbs to the exhaustion that has been creeping up on him all night. The two friends, bound by their shared grief and the weight of their responsibilities, slip into a peaceful slumber, unaware of the "dreams" that await them. And not-so-old, old friends.