Death Did Its Part {Fic}
May. 20th, 2024 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
abyssal_sylphFandom: OMORI
Rating: Mature
Warning(s): Romantized Incest & Age Gap, Major Character Death, Off Screen Suicide.
Relationship(s): Mari ♥ Sunny
Character(s): Mari, Sunny.
(additional) Tags: Mari POV, no smut, angst, hurt/questionable comfort, bittersweet ending.
Word Count: 350 words
Summary: Mari reunites with Sunny, it breaks her heart.
AO3 echo
He died in bright daylight.
One more moment of strength was needed. One more moment of trust. One more moment of the will to live breathing.
And it wasn’t enough; not here, not now.
Mari stood there, just stood. Nothing she could do or try would and is enough to save the boy who she would gladly go through Hell for if it meant he wasn’t alone. But here she was, the panic spreading as fast as rain and sirens going off like church bells. All she could see was the blood and bone and flesh on the unforgiving pavement.
All she could see was the shell of her former beloved.
Black and white and none of it gray; the shell wasn’t her brother, what he should’ve been. He should’ve been able to forgive himself even if no-one else would. He should’ve been strong enough to resist the call of the void. He should’ve lived!
And now he didn’t, now he never would, now he was forever twelve, without color or joy.
He is in front of her, is she speaking her thoughts or is he reading her mind? She doesn’t know. But he seems to know what she’s thinking, what her heart is grieving for.
“Don’t cry” he spoke, voice soft and cold as snow.
It only made her burst into tears.
Both of them dragged to the earth, in body and in spirit. Mari cries a flood for the boy who deserved everything she should’ve given and more. The boy she failed is holding her like something fragile, it makes her almost laugh. He looks at her; eyes endless and empty, face devoid of anything that marked him as human, he might as well have been a stranger, though she dares not call him that.
He kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips.
She chokes on the affection deathly winter was giving her.
He holds her hand, a red thread, connecting his neck with hers.
He speaks, stealing away all other sound.
“Oh holy moon of mine, all this was, all that mattered, was me coming back home.”
Rating: Mature
Warning(s): Romantized Incest & Age Gap, Major Character Death, Off Screen Suicide.
Relationship(s): Mari ♥ Sunny
Character(s): Mari, Sunny.
(additional) Tags: Mari POV, no smut, angst, hurt/questionable comfort, bittersweet ending.
Word Count: 350 words
Summary: Mari reunites with Sunny, it breaks her heart.
AO3 echo
He died in bright daylight.
One more moment of strength was needed. One more moment of trust. One more moment of the will to live breathing.
And it wasn’t enough; not here, not now.
Mari stood there, just stood. Nothing she could do or try would and is enough to save the boy who she would gladly go through Hell for if it meant he wasn’t alone. But here she was, the panic spreading as fast as rain and sirens going off like church bells. All she could see was the blood and bone and flesh on the unforgiving pavement.
All she could see was the shell of her former beloved.
Black and white and none of it gray; the shell wasn’t her brother, what he should’ve been. He should’ve been able to forgive himself even if no-one else would. He should’ve been strong enough to resist the call of the void. He should’ve lived!
And now he didn’t, now he never would, now he was forever twelve, without color or joy.
He is in front of her, is she speaking her thoughts or is he reading her mind? She doesn’t know. But he seems to know what she’s thinking, what her heart is grieving for.
“Don’t cry” he spoke, voice soft and cold as snow.
It only made her burst into tears.
Both of them dragged to the earth, in body and in spirit. Mari cries a flood for the boy who deserved everything she should’ve given and more. The boy she failed is holding her like something fragile, it makes her almost laugh. He looks at her; eyes endless and empty, face devoid of anything that marked him as human, he might as well have been a stranger, though she dares not call him that.
He kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips.
She chokes on the affection deathly winter was giving her.
He holds her hand, a red thread, connecting his neck with hers.
He speaks, stealing away all other sound.
“Oh holy moon of mine, all this was, all that mattered, was me coming back home.”
