unconscious spill - OMORI

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in which the DREAMER and the CHILD... talk it out.

SUNNY clutched his cracked violin to his chest. tears dripping down his face, they steadied his grip on the splintered thing and looked up at his alter ego, OMORI. the child looked so amazingly small, standing in the middle of the white plane. the writhing red hands bursting from his back like feathers on the wings of an angel and the massive chef's knife in his hand were a stark contrast to the ten year old in red pajamas. (YES this is canon divergent SHH SHH SHH quiet /lh) 

OMORI took a step forward towards SUNNY, and then he started walking a bit faster towards them, before breaking into a run. his black socks were bedecked with stars and planets, padding against the ground of WHITE SPACE. OMORI tackle-hugged him, nearly knocking him over. the ground was surprisingly soft, like a blanket.

OMORI clung onto him as if they were a security blanket, with a hug around the neck so tight that SUNNY's vision blurred. that wasn't right though... just OMORI was blurry. he seemed to be fading away at the edges, as if he was mere fog shaped like a kid. the color seemed to drain out of him as well, deep red hair, nearly black, fading to white as the color flooded back to SUNNY. WHITE SPACE had seemed to drain the color from his skin, clothes, and hair, but it returned in force as it departed from OMORI.

SUNNY realized - the reason OMORI was fading is because they didn't need him anymore. OMORI was not a human being but a coping mechanism- an unhealthy one. and SUNNY was getting better. he wasn't needed. so it was time for him to go. all the warm reds and purples had faded out of his skin and pajamas, as well as his vibrant red eyes, leaving them dead and black.  his body wavered and clipped at the extremities.

OMORI clung tighter to SUNNY, and he moved his violin aside for one last hug from where it was leaning against his back. SUNNY leaned into the embrace. OMORI sat there for a while, arms around SUNNY's back, his knife facing the ground, his knife tilting up, his knife i n    S U N N Y ' s    b a c k

colors bleeding from sunny's back

headspace swirling with every shade of life and memory

a lightbulb blowing out

red spider lilies

daisies and monkshood

red hands carrying a boy to bed