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Today is the fourth anniversary of that day, the day Mari, who used to play the piano with her long fingers, bake cookies with love, tuck everyone in bed with a kiss, and Sunny, who used to play the violin with grace, listen to everyone’s problems, doodle on his homework, became nothing more but The Suzuki Siblings. The older one, who died tragically, the other, who disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but a legend, a tragic story.
Basil stood in the middle of his old house attic. Boxes full of dust and nostalgic memories surrounded him. Exactly four years ago, here, in this room, Basil had helped Sunny hide from a horrible mistake, a painful regret.
‘Just for one day’
They had agreed. Yet the next morning, when Basil quietly had gone up the ladder with half of his breakfast in hand, untouched, Sunny had been long gone. Disappeared like the sun behind clouds. Basil never saw him again no matter how long he had waited in that attic.
So much had happened since then — Basil got a brand-new camera and started growing a pet spider for his plants, Kel joined a basketball club and met his soulmate there, Hero enrolled into culinary school and had ambitious plans for the future, Aubrey dyed her hair pink and became inseparable with Kim.
They never forgot The Suzuki Siblings, but they never talked about them either. Their friends became a slight dent in their memories they tried to ignore, a bug bite they paid no mind to, a stain on their clothes they pretended didn’t exist.
And that was alright. They lived, remembered and moved on. The sun continued to rise and set, the world continued to spin. Only Basil seemed to still be stuck in the past, unable to move an inch, revisiting the same old memories over and over, thinking about the same ‘what if’ scenarios, still visiting the attic once in a while.
And now, he was visiting the attic for the last time. He had to pack and tidy up before moving in with his parents in New York. 3 days left.
The boxes, full of childhood nicknacks and forgotten memories, were quite heavy for the feeble Basil and he carelessly dropped one of them. It spewed out all kinds of pieces of paper and toys onto the dirty ground. The boy sighed, remembering how Kel used to berate him to exercise more.
Then he noticed something very familiar — a small electronic messaging toy from the previous century. It had a tiny cracked screen with an even tinier keyboard. This was Basil and Sunny’s magical tool.
It used to be hard for sunny to voice out his thoughts, so Mari gifted him two texting toy devices, thinking that writing his feelings and opinions down in short phrases could make life a bit easier for her brother. Basil and he used to use these thingamajigs a lot. One would send a simple message, the other would silently read it and send one back. Then the cycle would repeat. At first it was just an exciting thing to do, a new innovative piece of technology to try out, but soon it turned into more than just an amusing game for them. When their other friends got bored or thought of better things to do Basil and Sunny used to share random thoughts, opinions about books, complaints about classmates and secrets with each other no one else could know about.
Basil clutched the device tightly in his hand, his face felt warm and his eyes began to slowly drown in tears.
“For old times’ sake?” It called out to him.
Without taking a second thought, Basil started typing a wall of text, dropping four years of baggage into one long letter:
>Sunny,
I’ve missed writing your name.
I’ve missed your almost unnoticeable grin, your hands in mine, our glances in class, our endless summer evenings.
I’ve missed Mari’s picnics, her cuddles and scolds too.
A part of me hopes you’re still out there, that you’re reading this, that you’ll write back, but I can’t keep feeding myself these same old lies every night, I can’t keep staring at every black-haired boy in the street, I can’t keep revisiting this attic.
So, I’m writing a letter instead. No amount of words will be enough to fill the gaping hole both of you had left, but maybe a few can serve as the first stitch.
Sunny, Sunny, Sunny.
You were a voiceless dreamer, you were Kafka who wrote stories beyond our understanding, you were Van Gogh who painted pictures not intended for us to comprehend.
I’ll remember you not as the boy who made a mistake, but as my best friend who was always there for me, full of thoughts, full of dreams, full of you.
I love you,
Basil
It took some time to finish pressing on the small keys, but he did it. With all of his courage, Basil held his breath and pressed send. He finally breathed out and a heavy rock rolled down his chest. This was truly over. Basil would finally put away the boxes, wash away the bittersweet memories, leave Faraway, grow new plants, meet new black-haired boys and girls.
There was still an itch at the back of Basil’s brain — how many jokes, thoughts and secrets has he forgotten over the years? What if... by chance... the toy saved some of them? Are there any traces of their conversations left inside?
Basil rotated the communicator in his hands, pressing buttons and doing whatever he could think of. It made goofy beeping noises and then it opened a catalog of older chats. Basil made an audible gasp and started reading the messages one by one.
The biggest problems in the middle of sleepless nights, back when they used to be two kids, sitting inches from each other, texting, now felt like silly things, not worth the worry:
>You look sad Sunny
>I am sad
>What’s wrong?
>I feel sad for the moon
>Moon?
>Yes
>Why?
>It doesn’t have any friends. Must be lonely
>Oh, I don’t want the moon to be lonely
>I don’t either
>Maybe we can be the moon’s friends?
>How will the moon know?
>We will tell it. Tonight
>Will it hear us?
>I hope so
Basil remembered two kids whispering in the middle of the night into the sky, keeping the moon company, so that it wouldn’t be lonely. Mari scolded the two to go to bed and they pretended to fall asleep, but they continued to whisper until Mari scolded them a second time.
Two kids, friends of the moon, their dreams bigger than the galaxy:
>Mari said she wants to be a teacher
>Why would she say that?
>I don’t know. Maybe she likes yelling at kids
>Not always. Only sometimes
>Basil who do you want to be?
>Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe a gardener. And you?
>I want to stay with all of you
>With us? Where would we be?
>In a big house
>Would the house have a garden?
>Yes
>I could be the gardener of our house!
>You could
For a whole hour Basil sat there, in the darkness of the attic and soaked in each letter of every word, lingered on certain texts, reread everything at least three or five times. He was silent, he teared up, he chuckled to himself and then went silent again, but even in silence he cracked a slight smile.
He scrolled down one more time and his smile faded.
>Hello Basil
A message from the other device dating to around 3 years ago. Basil blinked at the screen one time, two times, three times. He scrolled down again:
> Hello Basil
Hello Basil
Hello Basil
Hello Basil
...
The date kept getting closer and closer to present day: 2 years ago, 1 year ago, 8 months ago, 4 months ago... There were mostly messages saying ‘hello’ but there were also a few ‘happy birthdays’ and ‘happy anniversaries’ too.
There used to be two texting toys. One rainbow colored with smiley faces, which Basil held tightly in his sweaty palms, and the other one black with cute tiny cats, belonging to Sunny. Basil lifted up scattered leaflets, emptied out the boxes, but there wasn’t a single crumb left of the other toy.
“Must be broken,” He repeated to himself.
A short quiet jingle echoed through the attic. It was a sound Basil had forgotten but as soon as he heard it, he immediately recognized what it was — he had a new message. With an uneasy breath, he looked down at the innocent device, calling out for him:
>You answered
The toy dropped on the creaky floorboards, interrupting the quiet lives of hiding insects. Basil stayed still, but his head was in a storm. All kinds of reasonable and childish explanations spun around, all kinds of questions poured out. The attic was suffocating and there was no more room for the boy.
What should he even do? The answer was simple enough in theory.
Basil grabbed the device and, with each press shakier than the other, typed a few messages back, ranging from ‘who is this?’ to ‘this isn’t funny’ to ‘where are you?’
The other person’s messages were short and to the point: ‘Sunny’, ‘Why would it be funny?’, ‘I’m home’.
The devices were old. Their signals must have only been strong enough to go for a hundred feet or so. Even that felt like a stretch. Basil looked through his foggy attic window and examined the backyard, but nothing more than an empty road and a few trees swaying in the wind stood there. Nothing else, no one else.
Another jingle played: ‘I’ve missed you too’
Fear turned to overwhelming anger and Basil texted back, pressing on the keys so hard that they almost broke:
>Whoever you are, you’re a pitiful liar and a thief. You have no right using this device
>I got this as a gift
>Really now? Come out and prove it then
>Do you still secretly write poems about everyone?
Basil felt his jaw drop. Only Sunny knew about his cringey middle school poems, since he never used to judge him. There’s no way... Could it really be...?
>Sometimes. Sunny, is this really you?
>Yes. How have you been?
After a pause, the confusing back and forth soon turned more casual. Basil started talking about his pet spider Daisy, who was protecting his plants from mean pests, he talked about his stacks of photo albums, he talked about Aubrey’s hair and new skateboard she matched with Kim, how Kel’s team kept winning basketball tournaments after basketball tournaments, he mentioned that Hero is coming home from college for the summer soon too.
For years Basil clang desperately on this thin thread, hoping Sunny would come back one day. Everyone else just assumed he had starved in the forest or had fallen into a ditch somewhere. How could a twelve-year-old boy, bringing nothing but his pajamas and guilt, survive for so long? Basil had a different view. He hoped Sunny would appear back at the attic and Basil would give him a long hug repeating ‘Everything is going to be okay’ into his ear over and over again. He knew this was a bit absurd but it didn’t matter anymore, because right now he was talking to the missing twelve-year-old boy who was turning sixteen this July, he was talking to his best friend, he was talking to Sunny.
>Where are you, Sunny?
>I’m here
>Where?
>Here, with you
If dodging questions and being cryptic was a sport, Sunny would’ve been a worldwide recognized professional and champion. That’s just how Basil remembered him too. Seemed like not a lot of stuff had changed. Sunny wasn’t doing it on purpose though, all his friends knew that. That’s one of the reasons he got the texting toys after all.
>No, where are you right now? What have you been doing?
>A lot of things
>Like?
>Exploring
>Exploring?
>Yes. Vast Forest, Otherworld, Orange oasis...
>Where is that?
>Headspace
Little by little, Sunny started speaking of fantastical adventures, epic quests and challenging fights involving Captain Spaceboy, a comic book character they all used to read about, sailing the stars, concurring planets. He spoke of Sweetheart, a self-absorbed donut, loving no one and nothing but herself and her pink castle. He also spoke of being stuck in a whale with scientist mermaids, an oasis made of brown sugar and bread and the list went on and on. All of this in one mysterious place called ‘Headspace’.
Basil furrowed his brows. He had no idea where Sunny was, where he slept, what he ate, what he did for the past four years other than ‘explore Headspace’, but he was alive. He didn’t seem mentally stable — at all — but at least, by some miracle, perhaps pitied by gods, he was alive and capable of texting him. He must be in a safe place, right? How else would he still be... capable of writing?
>Sunny, when are you coming home?
>I’m home
>No... Home to Faraway? Home to us? Home to me?
>It’s raining. Remember when we played ball in the rain?
Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else — Sunny did it again. He dodged the question. Basil let out a painful sigh.
>When we played basketball with everyone in the rain storm?
>Yes
>I remember. Kel was really persistent to teach us all how to play
> Specifically on the rainiest day of summer
>Haha, that’s right
Slowly, with each other’s help, they reminisced on that day long ago. The day dark clouds hugged the sky, the day everyone’s hair was nothing but a messy bird’s nest, when the whole playground smelled of puddles and wet grass, when Kel’s deflated ball flew around like a comet, when Basil couldn’t tell if it was rain, sweat or tears dripping from everyone’s faces.
🌧🌧🌧🌧🌧🌧
Basil gripped the ball with all his might. This was the first time he held this orange wet globe in his hands. What now?
“Basil! Basil, pass the ball to me!” Aubrey yelled through the murmuring of the rain.
“H-How?”
“Just throw!”
Basil put himself in an awkward pose, seemingly to throw the ball. He tried to focus. The wind drowned out his friends from the background, his one shoe was untied, his legs bounced up and down to the rhythm of the droplets. And he swung! Like a frog into a pond, the ball leaped perfectly into the wrong direction.
“Hop! Bahahaha, nice one Basil!” Kel caught the ball in the air, “Next time try passing the ball to one of your teammates-”
He couldn’t finish his mean remark though, because a huge puddle got in his way. Kel fell with a big thud and splash, the ball slipping from his grasp. His whole face and hair were covered in mud, more than before. Aubrey helped him up but did not hide her chuckles at all.
The basketball rolled to Mari’s feet and she swiftly picked it up. Even when her silky hair stuck to her face, covering most of her vision, she had a few clever maneuvers up her sleeve while dribbling the ball.
“We can do it guys!”
The older girl passed the ball to Aubrey, then the other passed the ball to her, then Basil, then back to Aubrey, then Kel stuck out from nowhere and snatched the ball from their hands again, he slipped, then Hero had the ball, but he passed it to Mari.
“Hero’s cheating! He’s cheating! He’s helping the opposing team!” No one heard Kel’s cries from the rough drunk floor though.
“Aubrey, Basil, run under their net! I’m throwing the ball!!” Mari blew a strand of hair away and flung the ball across the entire playground. It landed right at Basil’s fingertips. Even he couldn’t believe it.
“Basil! Throw the ball into the net!” Aubrey waved and swayed with her hands.
“Nooo!” Kel got up and sprinted towards him.
Basil accumulated all of his strength and energy into this moment. The wind, the rain, his untied shoe, they were all with him. Je jumped and hurled the ball like if he didn’t make it, tomorrow wouldn’t come, like if they don’t score, the world will end. He jumped and hurled it right into poor Sunny’s face, who just got there at the wrong moment, trying to protect his team’s net.
The score ended with a beautiful 0-0.
🌧🌧🌧🌧🌧🌧
>You wouldn’t stop apologizing
>Of course I wouldn’t! I hit you right in the face!
>It didn’t hurt that bad
> Your nose was bleeding!!
>It was a great sacrifice for the team
And the cute flower band aid you gave made it better
>It didn’t do anything. The damage was internal
>It did more than enough for me
Basil moved into his bed and the two continued chatting about whatever they could think off. About new and old books they’ve read, new and old movies they’ve seen, new and old people they’ve met, new and old songs they’ve heard, new and old feelings they felt. Basil noticed that it was almost like they were two kids again, friends of the moon, texting inches from each other.
They talked until the bright yellow sun rays, shining through the flower boy’s little window, turned dark orange. Basil’s yawns became longer and longer, his eyes grew heavier and heavier and soon a fluffy blanket of sleep covered him for the night.
2 days left. Basil rubbed his crusty eyes. A wave of yesterday’s memories washed over him and he prayed it wasn’t all just a fever dream. His prayers were answered once he glanced down and spotted the old colorful texting toy mingled with his blankets, wishing him good morning.
Basil felt a sharp stab in his stomach and learned that skipping dinner wasn’t the best choice. At the same time, the boy heard his grandma coughing from the other room. Polly must’ve gone out to run some errands, so Basil sprung from his bed to his grandmother’s aid.
A bedroom that got more somber each day. There was a clock crookedly hung on the wall, stuck in the same pose, a bookshelf full of old-smelling novels, a wheelchair and an IV drip standing in the corner. Medicine bottles and pills covered the wooden table, standing in the middle of the room, and right next to the bed a white flower desperately reached for the window. Basil generously watered it.
An egret orchid. In the language of flowers... it means, ‘my thoughts will follow you into your dreams.’
In bed, a fragile lady panted. Her lips and skin dry, her hair as white as the flower. Basil helped her drink a glass of water along with a few of her differently shaped pills. She swallowed with no rush, taking a pause before each gulp.
“...Basil,” His grandma coughed out.
The boy felt a shiver run through his body. It’s been some time since she let out a sound that wasn’t coughing or shallow breathing. Although, this one didn’t sound any less painful.
“Basil... Keep your old flowers... but don’t let them distract you from watering your new sprouts too... Do you understand what I mean...?”
Basil cupped her cold wrinkly hands into his. His grandma’s metaphors usually flew over his head and Basil wasn’t one to lie, but how could he not reassure her? She was already using all of her strength to speak these few words. His grandma. Someone who was there for him all of his short life, who guided him like a lantern in the darkest woods.
“...I think I do grandma.”
“Promise me you’ll listen.”
The grandson blinked at her, “I promise.”
She let out a small breath of air, “Good... good... You were always such a clever boy Basil...”
With that, she drifted back into dark dreamless sleep.
Basil heard the front door opening with a creek and slowly closing. Polly’s soft voice called out from the kitchen for him to have some much-needed breakfast.
The hungry kid gobbled up the pancakes with syrup like it was his last meal on planet earth. Polly giggled as he asked for seconds and thirds.
“Leave some room for the cookies later!”
“Cookies? What cookies?”
“Oh, dear, I forgot to mention, I found this at our doorstep. Isn’t it cute?”
Polly plopped a big make-shift basket, decorated in red bows and similar things, filled with thick chocolate chip cookies. There was even a white note attached with ‘For Basil’ written on it.
“Do you, maybe, have a hunch on who it’s from?”
Basil eyeballed the basket, “N-No... really. I have no idea.”
“Oh, how romantic!” Polly clapped her hands with joy, “A little secret admirer perhaps?”
“Polly...”
“Oh, hush hush I’m just teasing you! Go on, enjoy your treat! I’ll tidy everything up.”
“Thank you so much Polly. And don’t worry I'll leave some for you as well,” Basil skid of with the basket to his room while Polly washed the dishes and hummed some kind of melody from her childhood.
“It’s nice to know that there are such nice people out there for you Basil.”
The toy welcomed him back with jingle after jingle. Basil’s half empty bags and suitcases can wait. He lifted the napkin from the basket and a smell of baked-goods flushed his face. For a moment, the boy was twelve years old again. Mari and Hero were baking something delicious in the kitchen, making sure to say the cheesiest pick-up lines in the book, Aubrey and Kel were bickering if ‘gun’ was a proper rock paper scissors move, Sunny’s parents’ ancient vinyl record player spun round and round making Basil swoon along with the music. The type of music parents always said was popular during their “golden years”. Sunny sat nearby and the friends tried to guess what the song lyrics mean, if the two of them were in their “golden years” as well.
That lasted only for a moment though, another jingle brought Basil back to his bedroom. Nibbling on the cookies with one hand and typing with his other, Basil bathed in shared memories and stories both he and Sunny could dig out from the cracks in their brains.
...
>You really listen to ABBA and Queen right now?
>Yeah sometimes. I'm not sure what came over me
>Thinking back on your “golden years”?
>Oh, haha, I was just thinking about that day with the record player
>You still remember
>How can I forget a day like that?
They reminisced on that day long ago. The day the house was brighter than the outside, the day no one could wait long enough for the brownies that Mari and Hero had baked to cool down, so all of them burnt their tongues, when one record player was louder than a thousand, when, unsurprisingly, no one besides Sunny’s sister knew how to dance, but they spun and stomped with their feet anyway.
♫♬♩♫♪♬
From “Mamma Mia” to “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” not a single song was missed, every album on the shelves was played at least two times, moving and shaking the walls of the whole house. Kel pretended to play the guitar or beat the drums, Aubrey twirled around in her flowy dress, Mari demonstrated some of her signature groovy moves for Sunny to copy, and Hero moved a few steps to the side and back, flipping his hair dramatically. Basil fidgeted with his feet and fingers, still a bit shy.
“Basil! Come on, show us what you got!” Kel pushed him to the center of the room.
“I-I- I don’t think I’ve got anything-”
“Basil, it’s not about how you dance. Try to enjoy yourself and have fun with us!” Mari took him by the arm and started going back and forth with him to the beat of the music.
“Yeah! Look at Hero, he’s awful and he doesn’t care!” Kel pointed at his brother.
“Hey- Wha-?! I’ll show you how to dance!” Hero shook poor Kel with all of his... interesting dancing techniques.
Soon, they all danced in one big group, more confident in each other’s presence. They separated and danced to their own rhythm, then one more time with each other, then in groups of three, then in duos. After a few rounds of the same songs, they’ve all learned the lyrics by heart and now were all singing along too. Basil’s partner changed with each blink of his eyes — one second Mari energetically moved the boy’s arms, another — Hero enthusiastically moved Basil’s feet, then Aubrey and Basil whirled around in spirals, then Kel and he jumped up and down as if they were on a trampoline.
After all the singing, mixed with laughter and heavy pants, the kids were ready to drop on the floor like autumn leaves and stuff their mouths with leftover brownies.
Until “Hasta Manana” played for the third time that evening and how can they just pass up this opportunity?
As if on command, the group of friends came back to life and sang. Sang from the bottom of their lungs:
“Where is the spring and the summer that once was yours and mine?”
Aubrey and Kel became accidental partners, but shrugged it off and continued to dance, bouncing from one toe to another, filling up the empty space between each other.
“Where did it go? I just don’t know. But still my love for you will live forever”
Hero, wanting to be smooth, tried to pull Mari closer, but she turned the whole thing around and swooped the guy of his feet. His cheeks went a shade redder and he almost lost his balance, but Mari, tittering, put him on his feet just in time.
“Hasta mañana, ‘til we meet again! Don’t know where, don’t know when”
Sunny’s black eyes pierced Basil’s. They slowly intertwined their arms and, with shaky steps, started to move from one corner of the room to the other. Basil couldn’t keep eye contact, he just held his gaze low at their feet the entire time, but he felt how carefully Sunny tried to move, like one wrong move could break them both like glass.
“Darling, our love was much too strong to die. We’ll find a way to face a new tomorrow”
Upon observing, it almost seemed like Aubrey and Kel were in a fierce dancing competition, trying to outdo each other with each muscle of their body. They attacked each other with leg thumps and beat each other with hand waves.
The song was never-ending:
“Where is the dream we were dreaming? And all the nights we shared?”
Finally, Mari let Hero spin her a few times out of pity, but only for a bit, to put him in a false sense of security, before grabbing and moving and twirling and shaking him in all the possible directions again.
You could practically see the colors of music splashing around all of them:
“Where did they go? I just don’t know. And I can’t tell you just how much I miss you!”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Basil felt a strike of confidence in Sunny. Maybe he was mimicking his sister again? His stride had a bit more determination, a faster pace. Then he did the unthinkable — he started rotating his friend in circles.
“Hasta mañana, say we’ll meet again. I can’t do without you!”
Basil spun and spun and spun, his head like a vinyl record player.
“Time to forget, send me a letter”
“Say you forgive, the sooner the better”
Sunny stopped and Basil stopped with him. There was a short staring contest, mouths agape, no words came out, but a hundred thoughts were exchanged. How can Sunny’s face stay so calm when Basil feels his chest about to explode?
“Hasta mañana, baby”
“Hasta mañana until then!”
♫♬♩♫♪♬
>You really surprised me that day
>I did?
>Of course, how can a boy expect to be spun like that?
>That’s how unpredictable I am
>Oh? Feeling confident again?
>A bit
>Well, just so you know, I’ve gained a drop of confidence as well, so maybe you should watch your back, cus I just might start spinning you too?
>We’ll see
What’s happening to Basil? He never used to talk like that. And since when has he felt this... giddy inside?
He reached for another cookie inside the basket but came up with nothing but crumbs. Jesus Christ, had he gobbled the whole thing all by himself? He was forever in Polly’s debt now... A crime a simple jog won’t fix.
>How are the cookies?
If Basil still had the baked treats, he would have chocked on them right now.
>You know about them?
>I baked them. You’re not on a diet, are you?
He baked them. He baked the cookies! Did everybody hear?! He made the cookies himself!! Basil couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot and he almost started shouting through the window. Not only was Sunny alive, but he had a place to bake cookies for him. An oven, a kitchen, a house.
With the same silly grin, he began writing back how good the treats were and how much of a sugar hog he was for eating the entire basket in one sitting, but Sunny beat him and sent a text first:
Okay, Mari helped me
Basil’s silly grin vanished.
>Sunny, what are you talking about?
>Mari helped me with your cookies
>You’re just joking, right?
>About what?
No, no, surely this guy was just kidding around. This was just one of his bizarre Kafka writings, obscure Van Gogh paintings? Basil can get behind Captain Spaceboy’s galactic adventures, donut princess's dungeons, insane mermaids’ experiments, but this? Sunny was not okay at all. He was not mentally doing fine and Basil couldn’t ignore it anymore.
>Mari passed away 4 years ago
>Mari is with me
>No, Sunny, Mari is asleep deep in the ground
>She helped me bake your cookies
>Please, I know it’s hard for you
Please come back. I promise we’ll get you help
>I’m home
>Sunny
>Basil
>Are you scared? Everyone understands you were just a kid
No one will be mad at you I promise
Please just come back
Please come back
>Did you like the cookies, Basil?
>They all know how much pressure you had at the time,
How much you carried on your own
>I hope you liked them
>We all know how much pain the violin practices brought you
It’s not your fault. No one blames you
>I baked them on my own
>I’m sorry Sunny, I’m so sorry for hiding you in that awful attic
You were probably so so scared. I’m so sorry Sunny.
>Mari helped me bake them for you
>Please just come back
Please come back Sunny
Basil stopped receiving messages. He couldn’t stop shaking. After what felt like a lifetime, he sent another text:
These devices can’t have a strong signal. You must be nearby.
I’ll find you and we’ll get you help. Stay put, I’m coming for you
Stay put
The sky was pitch black. There wasn’t a single star, not even Basil’s friend the moon. How did it get this dark this fast? The gods weren’t feeling particularly kind tonight. The heavy wind cracked trees like sticks and Basil could part the grey fog like the blinds of a foggy window. He just hoped the wind wouldn’t crack him in half, the fog wouldn’t consume him whole. The boy entered the dense Faraway forest.
Basil called out Sunny’s name for what felt like hours. He swayed from one path to another, his hair danced around all crazy. The dark trees loomed over, the fog kept getting thicker and thicker.
In the distance, a black silhouette stood still, waiting for him.
“S-Sunny?!” Basil screamed, desperately trying to outshout the wind.
The figure grew taller and denser until it didn’t resemble Sunny anymore, until it didn’t resemble a person anymore. Basil froze, his eyes round and wide. The shadow of screams and pain moved closer, its eye almost as big as itself. The trembling boy tripped over himself and landed on his back but did not move his gaze away. The figure did not stop. Its eye moved rapidly in all the unnatural ways, like a fly trapped in a jar. Basil struggled to pick himself up. He kept tripping over branches and rocks and the fog and wind were not helping at all.
Finally, finally, he was able to turn around and escape. He felt the thing fly towards him like a bullet, right until he reached his house. He slammed his bedroom door loudly behind him. That did not do anything.
It followed him back. It followed him back. It followed him back.
Basil stared at a corner of his room. Counting spots and layers of wallpaper. A small kid alone without his friend or moon. He pretended he didn’t feel the stares poking at his back, he pretended he didn’t feel the cold breath on his neck, he hopelessly tried to pretend he didn’t hear a boy’s palms slamming on his window. A stringless violin played a piercing screech. His ears flowed with blood.
“Basil... I’m here...” A horse old woman’s voice spoke from the walls, “Breathe in, breathe out. I’m here. With you.”
Basil did as told. The window slamming, staring and cold breathing grew weaker.
“There you go... I’m here. I’ll always be here with you. Breathe in, breathe out.”
Basil didn’t feel or hear anything anymore. He just felt numb in all of his limbs. There was a pounding in his head and shortly after, the dark overwhelmed him.
1 day left. The sun shined brighter than ever.
“The doctors said she passed away in her sleep and did not suffer,” Polly rubbed Basil’s back.
The boy, with eyebags under his eyes, continued to search for something in the same corner he had stared at the other night. He did not move an inch. Not even a nerve muscle.
He didn’t move when his friends called out for him outside.
He didn’t hear when Kel knocked on his door:
“B-Basil! Basil! Can you hear me?! They- They found Sunny!”
He didn’t see when the news announced that a sixteen-year-old boy was found at the bottom of the lake, pajamas and an electronic toy were the only items he had.
He didn’t feel when Polly left breakfast, lunch, dinner and a few unhelpful phrases on his bed.
The wall and him. Him and the wall. This was all Basil knew now.
Until he heard a familiar melody. Only then had he decided to turn his head.
>Basil
>Sunny
>I’ve missed you
>I’ve missed you too Sunny
>Do you remember how you used to tell me about your flowers?
>I do
>Please, can you describe a flower?
>Sure
“Ipomoea alba” or simply “Moonflower” is a flower growing like a bush. It has long twining stems and three-lobed leaves. The flower is white and trumpet-shaped.
It opens quickly in the evening and last throughout the night, remaining open until touched by the morning.
It’s heavily associated with, well, the moon and all the secrets and mysteries it represents.
In the language of flowers, it means “Dreaming of love”
>This is my new favorite flower
>You used to say that every time I talked about a new plant
>Basil
>Sunny
>I love you
>I love you too
>Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
Everything is going to be okay
...
Basil woke up in a teal and purple forest. He looked up and saw little shiny dots, constellations and the big moon itself. There was something planted on his head. He tapped it — a flower crown. If he was completely silent, he could hear a faint piano and violin duet playing in the background. Very light, very soft. The grassy ground was littered with moonflowers, clearly painting a path for him to follow. Basil took a few breaths and marched onward, wondering what the cruel gods had in store for him this time.
An older woman with a wooden cane limped in front. Dragging herself with a slow pace, carrying knowledge of a whole life.
“Grandma?”
She turned around and smiled in a way only a grandma with a heart full of love could. The lady stretched out her arms, inviting her grandson closer.
Basil jumped into her grasp, squeezing her sides as tight as he could. Her arms felt squishy as she patted him fondly, but Basil could feel she was hollow, like fruit with no juice inside.
“Basil, do you remember what you promised me?”
“Y-Yeah...”
“You were always such a clever boy... They’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you for everything grandma... For everything.”
With a slight smirk, she continued to stroke the boy’s hair until she fully disappeared and he couldn’t feel her hands anymore.
Sniffing and whimpering, Basil finally exited the forest into a playground lost to time. The swings were rusting with age, stuck in air as if they were molded out of stiff clay. The tetherball pole was missing its main element, the lonely thread hung loosely. The slide’s paint was scratched off in long scars, its ladder broken, in deep sleep, fallen on one of its sides. The whole place was overgrown with moonflowers, its vines entwined with all the metal playground equipment.
To the side of the playground, on a red picnic blanket, there they were — the Suzuki siblings. Mari relaxed and greeted Basil with a beam. Her long hair rolled in the breeze like ocean waves, her eyes shined with purple glint. By her side, Sunny leaned on her shoulder with all of his Kafka whatever and Van Gogh never mind. His expression was ever so stoic, but Basil knew his pitch-black eyes were smiling.
Their bodies were also hollow, moonlight shined right through the two like stained glass. Both fifteen-year-old Mari and her younger sixteen-year-old brother motioned for Basil to come closer.
The flower boy took one step, but looked down, examining his barefoot, which was starting to slowly become transparent, and, gulping down a cry, retreated.
“Why the long face Basil?” Mari’s voice played like piano music, “I’ve made some cookies. They’re still warm!”
“...I can’t- I promised-” Basil’s could barely let out a yelp.
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room here,” Sunny fixated on Basil with a blank, yet such a warm gaze.
The siblings motioned to Basil once more, colorful light bouncing of their skin. The standing boy felt a fat ball of sorrow clogging up his throat and he just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Basil sobbed loudly, stopping only to hiccup a few times in pain. He sobbed with red eyes, sticky mucus and all of that jazz. He sobbed out tears filled with all the despair and misery he felt this past four years.
“I can’t- I can’t!” He could barely see his two friends through the teary vision, “I’m here and you’re there... I can’t. Just like you can’t...”
After waiting for Basil’s cries die down a bit, Mari smiled at him again, “You’re right, you can’t and we can’t either. You must remember not only your memories, but your hopes too, you must not only dream, but also learn to wake up.”
“We’ll guard your spot for when you do come,” Sunny spoke next, “but for now... live your life, Basil. Grow new plants, fill thick photo albums...”
Since when has Sunny been this confident in talking aloud? Some things do change after all.
“I will... I will!” Basil wiped away traces of his sobs but his cheeks gave him away, still glistening in moonlight, “I’ll miss you-”
“We know. We will too. We love you, Basil.”
“I love you too! I love you! I love you!!”
Three kids, all friends of the moon, so none would be lonely late at night. They waved at each other for a thousand years and would’ve surely waved for a thousand more, but the siblings little by little faded away with the breeze. The round moon whispered its last goodnight and hit behind dark clouds as well.
Day of moving. A gentle push woke Basil up from sleep. He rubbed his face and Polly’s bitter-sweet eyes came into view.
“Good morning, little Basil. I finished packing your bags for you and made some pancakes again, I hope you don’t mind-”
The boy leaped into her arms for a hug, “Thank you Polly, thank you for everything.”
She pressed her cheek against his head, “You don’t need to thank me for anything.”
They stayed like this for a bit before the young woman spoke again:
“There’s a surprise waiting for you outside, why don’t you take a look?”
Basil tilted his head like a curious puppy, but did as instructed. He twisted the door handle of the front door and all at once a group of teens jumped at him. Basil took a few steps back in surprise. Who would have thought that his surprise would be surprising?
“You didn’t think we’d let you leave without saying goodbye at least, did you?” Aubrey rubbed a fist into his shoulder. It will definitely leave a mark.
All of them were there: Aubrey, Kel, Kim, some of the hooligans too. Even Hero came back and held a strawberry cake decorated with tiny flowers and text in fancy handwriting reading “Don’t forget to text us!”.
Basil narrowed his eyes a bit at the text but soon the group shoved a gift box in front of his nose, encouraging him to open it.
He quickly unwrapped the box and found inside a flip phone, decorated with cute stickers and even a glued on custom phone charm.
Basil’s parents had promised to buy him the latest phone model for him once he fully moved in with them, but Basil picked up the tiny device and was pretty content with this one.
“We already saved all our phone numbers inside, so you absolutely have no excuse to not text or call us once you’re in New York” Kel poked the guy.
“But, of course, we wouldn’t mind you visiting once in a while either,” Hero ruffled Basil’s hair.
“Thank you so much guys, I’ll make sure to use it.”
Time to hope, to wake up, to look at what’s in front, with occasional glances back. It’s okay to keep your old flowers as long as you water your baby sprouts.
Right now, he was surrounded by toothy grins and laughter, so he couldn’t help but do the same. Somewhere in the commotion he heard soft piano melody and an elegant violin accompanying it.
🌧♫♩♬🌧🌧♫♪🌧♫♬
“Hasta mañana until then!”