Levii's wacky collection of multifandom (OMORI and fnaf, etc) oneshots!

DROPDEAD (OMORI fanfic)

The air is thick and tense. An argument is clearly brewing. It's too quiet in this house and in this bathroom. Not even the soft drips of the leaking tap can save this mess, this tragedy that no action or words can change the fate of what these boys are about to do. What the blonde boy will say.

"Sunny.. She can't hurt you like that." He says, the scent of fresh flowers flowing off of him in sheets is a nauseating contrast to the current tension filling the room. There's undertones of brutal, raw anger, and the smell of warm flesh is present. "She might've been your sister at one point, but she isn't anymore.. She's your enemy.."
The other boy's face is blank, but there's anger and hurt circulating in his eyes. It sloshes and swirls, festering as the grudge he held turns into pure, unbridled rage. He doesn't speak; his voice is used up from the screaming match with his sister earlier. The blonde boy opens his mouth again, his voice is soft but full of compassion and, surprisingly, rage.
"Do it; it'll make you so much happier! She's ruined your life, and I'll take all the blame.. All of it."
This suddenly snaps something in the other, who stares at the blonde. His black hair glimmers in the sunlight streaming through the blinds, and his eyes glint with an almost malicious intent. Marching out of the bathroom, he reaches the top of the stairs, where his sister stands waiting for him. She's taken her down since they argued a minute ago, her hair flowing freely. She speaks, her voice strained, clearly holding back anger.
"Sunny. Listen, you're so underprepared, and the recital is tonight! I can't have you embarrass me in front of the whole town! You need to practise right now!"
The flower boy puts a hand on the smaller one's back, a sign of comfort and encouragement. Something that symbolises everything - the pain, suffering, and mental torture he's been put through by the same person who is demanding more for a 'selfish' reason. The rage in them turns into a malevolent calm, a danger. The smaller boy steps forward towards the stairs. Towards his sister.
"Mari.." He starts, his voice low and quiet. Clearly, the boy doesn't speak a lot. His steps are steady and firm. His feet plant into the ground, slightly apart, as if taking a defensive stance. "I fucking hate you."
Hastily, his hands violently push out, colliding with the older girl's body. She falls back with a yelp, her body clattering onto the stairs as she's not given a chance to react. There's a sickening crunch as her spine makes contact with the wooden steps, her head quickly following soon after. The boy steps back, both of them watching silently as the older girl's body convulses and spasms while she cascades down the stairs. Her skin rubs off on the linen, leaving huge gashes of bleeding gore upon her body, subsequently leaving splotches and splatters of blood about to be cleaned up later.
When her body finally hits the last step, her head bleeding and a large portion of the skin on her arms rubbed away to expose the bleeding, pulsating flesh, the flower boy turns to the younger one. A sick smile spreads across his face, yet there's a look of admiration and love in his bright blue eyes.
"You did a good thing, Sunny. You did so good for listening to me; now help me frame this.." He seems to have thought this out already, and he was pleasantly surprised that Sunny went through with it. They both run down the stairs, surveying the damage to the older sister's body. "Looks like she got more bruised and scraped than I hoped.. Oh well, if we hang her pretty close to the trunk of three, they'll probably rule it as her body slamming into it! It's quite a windy day, after all.." He picks his head up to look at the other boy, who seems to be indifferent to every word that quickly tumbles out of the other's mouth. They lock eyes and smile at each other, creating an electric connection of murder and love between them. Both of them know they will get away with this with a few minor casualties, but soon enough they will know the fear of death themselves.