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“You’re coming in too late. Try again.”
…
“Sunny, you’re not holding that note for long enough — it’s one, two, three, four , not one, two, three .”
…
“Your posture is all wrong. You’re way too hunched over and it’s affecting your performance.”
…
“That’s— you know what, just let me see,” Mari says exasperatedly. She gets up from her seat at the piano to Sunny, adjusting the position of his fingers on the violin strings to her liking. “That note is flat.”
…
“Sunny, we have to get this perfect or the recital will be ruined!” Mari stresses. “We only have a few hours. Why aren’t you focusing?!”
…
“If you fail this, Dad will be furious,” Mari warns. “You have to try harder. It’s not that hard.”
…Sunny is one mistake away from snapping. He grits his teeth.
Soon, Mari plays the note that’s supposed to cue Sunny in to join the song. But he drops his bow to the ground instead.
Mari looks over at him in surprise and slight annoyance. “Why aren’t you playing?”
Instead of answering, Sunny storms out of the music room, taking the sheet music with him.
Mari quickly stands up in shock. “What— where do you think you’re going?!”
He makes a dash up the stairs, finally arriving at the top — and turns back to face Mari’s direction as she stands at the bottom, confusion spread across her expression.
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Sunny,” she yells, her voice rising in anger. “If you just tried a little harder and stopped spacing out, the song would be perfect. What about that don’t you understand?!”
Sunny pauses. He looks down at his fingers — his bruised, bloody fingers — and then down at Mari.
Mari, who stands at the base of the stairs with the most disapproving expression Sunny’s ever seen on her, in their twelve years of knowing each other.
He thinks of all the endless hours he’s put into practicing this stupid song, constantly berated by Mari and put under the pressure of her own perfectionism. He thinks of all the anger he’s been suppressing, all of the annoyance he’s pushed back whenever he’s pulled away from his friends to practice his violin. Drowning in musical notes and constant shoving, back and forth and back and forth.
He thinks of his parents pushing Mari to be perfect. He thinks of their disappointment in him, their clear favoritism for the older, golden child and he thinks of their high expectations for success. He thinks of how they ignore him because they see him as a failure, and how he wanted so badly for them to just see him, even a little bit — how he wanted to spend more time with his sister, the girl who practically raised him in place of their absence — how she got more and more impatient with every mistake he made. He just wanted to spend time with her, to maybe get his sister back, the one he had before she got sucked into her piano lessons. The one he had who cared about him more than what their parents thought of them.
Sunny thinks of the emotions he’s been holding back in favor of pleasing Mari — and Sunny snaps .
He raises the violin…
“Sunny…? Sunny, what on earth are you doing?”
He takes a step closer to the edge…
“Oh, no, you better not do what I think you’re about to do — Sunny, I swear to god, if you—”
He throws the instrument — the instrument that’s brought him so much pain — down the staircase.
And for a split second, just a moment, he feels completely free — no more violin. No more practicing. No more cut up, bruised fingers.
And then the violin hits the ground, breaking immediately.
A sense of dread hits him immediately. He feels sick.
The world is silent for a moment, one peaceful moment, and then it bursts into a cacophony of noise.
“ Sunny !” Mari practically screams. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!”
He doesn’t. He doesn’t have any idea, and the only thought he has is that he just needs her to stop yelling .
Mari is storming up the stairs now, and Sunny’s heart drops.
“Do you know how much time and money your friends spent to get you that violin?” she seethes. Her voice is low. “They worked their asses off to buy you that thing and you just— you just destroy it? What the hell, Sunny?!”
The volume is too much for him. He’s overwhelmed. There’s too much going on. His hands shake, and he wants to run. He needs to run.
Mari grabs onto his shoulders. He wants her hands off of him now . His sister’s touch is rarely unwelcomed by him, but right now he just — he can’t be touched. He can’t. It stings. He needs to get away, and she’s blocking him. He’s trapped.
Her grip tightens when she notices him trying to back away. “What will Mom and Dad think?! I try so hard to get them to treat you normally instead of just— just giving up on you because you’re different, because you act differently, but this?! There’s no coming back from this!”
Sunny winces, closing his eyes tight. He doesn’t want to be here.
But he finds himself unable to shut out the world around him — instead, it grows louder and louder until it’s grating painfully on his senses, and he just wants Mari to stop , to let him go , because she knows what to do when he gets like this, but—
“The recital is in three hours , Sunny. Three !” Mari yells. “ Why would you do that?! What are we going to do?!”
She lets go of him, stepping back to pace frantically for a few seconds. “Will you answer me already?! I know you can speak! You’ve done it before! How are you going to play?!”
Sunny opens his mouth, but no words come out. Abruptly, his expression twists into one of panic, and he lets out a sob.
Mari towers over him, and it’s the last straw. He can’t stand seeing her like this. They’ve never fought this much before.
Sunny turns to run down the stairs — he just needs to escape, he needs to find somewhere to be alone to calm down and recover, because right now everything is painful—
Something gets in his way.
He reacts instinctively… blinded to his surroundings… and pushes .
A loud series of thumps echo throughout the house… and then silence overtakes it again.
Sunny freezes for a few seconds. Where… wait… did Mari…?
He tries to speak, to call her name, but nothing comes out. Slowly and in a trance, he descends the stairs.
…Mari lays at the bottom.
Oh… she must be tired.
She’s tired from practicing, so she’s taking a nap.
How strange of her, Sunny wonders distantly, to do it in the middle of the floor. It must be uncomfortable.
He should take her to her bed. There, she could rest properly… and then he can apologize for breaking the violin… and they’ll find a way to play together… and she’ll never be angry at him like that again… and…
He gently grabs her arm, trying to coax her awake. She should go upstairs instead. He can help her.
He can see a pair of feet standing just behind her, but it’s okay. Whoever that is can help him take her to bed.
She must be really tired, considering… considering that she won’t wake up, no matter how hard Sunny shakes her.
Silly Mari… she shouldn’t be overworking herself this much…
Someone touches his shoulder. He flinches — the person shouldn’t be touching him, they need to help Mari…
He lifts up her head, ignoring the somewhat sticky substance now coating his fingers as he runs them through her hair, and as if sensing his intentions, the other person with him picks up her lower half.
This is good… they can carry her to bed, and then she’ll wake up and they’ll… they’ll play together, just like how they were supposed to…
They stumble up the stairs, making their way into Mari and Sunny’s room before depositing Mari’s sleeping form onto her bed.
It’s okay now… she’ll wake up soon. Sunny just needs to let her rest. He just needs to wait…
He puts a hand on her chest.
She’s not breathing.
She’s… she’s not breathing…?
That’s wrong. That can’t be. She… she’s tired. She’s sleeping.
But she’s not breathing.
She’s— she’s not— no—
Starting to panic, Sunny reaches up to shake her harder.
She’s just sleeping. She’s just sleeping, right?!
She won’t wake up. She won’t move.
Hyperventilating, Sunny scrambles away, his back bumping against the side of Mari’s bed. He hides his head in his hands as he closes in on himself, knees to his chest. Mari’s limp hand lays beside him. This has to be a dream. It has to.
It’s a dream. It’s not… it’s not real…
Yes… that’s what this is.
That’s why… that’s why the world around him is starting to feel distant. Disconnected. He’s losing his grasp on reality…
He blinks, slowly. And again as he tries to process anything. He can’t. It doesn’t register in his mind. This isn’t real… this isn’t real… this isn’t real…
“Sunny…”
He ignores the voice. Nothing… nothing matters right now. He’s just… waiting for the nightmare to be over. Then, Mari will… Mari will comfort him…
He just needs to wait.
“Sunn… can… hear me?”
He’s… not sure…
The area around him is white. It’s blank. There’s nothing.
It’s safe.
Where is the voice coming from…?
“Every… going to… okay…”
The world is in slow motion… and the voice is so distant… he can’t make out what it’s saying.
“Everything is… okay…”
That’s right. Everything is okay. This is a dream, and he’ll wake up soon.
The voice is getting louder. More coherent. Someone has a tight grip on his shoulders, but he keeps his head limp.
“Sunny… everything is going to be okay.”
Ah. That’s what it was trying to say.
It doesn’t bring him much comfort. He’s already too untethered to reality, sinking into a place into his mind that’s far, far away… a White Space.
Whoever the voice is, they’re now moving… something… whatever is on the bed behind him… because that’s not his sister… his sister couldn’t be dead. So he lets it happen.
“Sunny, help me lift her,” it whispers. He doesn’t move.
The person grabs and positions his arms to support something. He’s fine with going along with whatever this person is doing. They must have a solution. So he lets it happen.
The figure guides him back down the stairs, and Sunny can faintly hear the sound of a door being slid open — but he can’t tell. It’s too… he’s too… he’s not sure what’s going on anymore. But it’s fine.
Sometime along the way, he catches a glimpse of the person’s face — it’s Basil. His friend. Basil will fix this. Basil knows what to do.
They lay something on the grass. Basil goes back inside the house, and Sunny calmly sits down on the ground. He looks up at his favorite tree.
The leaves sway in the wind… he finds them mesmerizing. If he focuses on the leaves, he’ll wake up soon enough. It’ll end soon enough.
Basil comes back outside. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he can hear shuffling and creaking. Basil probably knows what to do, so Sunny lets it happen.
He continues to stare at the leaves. He doesn’t look at what Basil is doing. He doesn’t want to look. The leaves are fine. He can look at them instead.
After… a period of time… Basil grabs his hand. He’s not sure how long it’s been, because the seconds have just been fading and morphing into each other, and it could have been somewhere from a few hours or only a few minutes as far as he knows.
It doesn’t matter, because now it’s over. It’s okay.
They start to walk away, Basil guiding him, but before he goes back through the door, he takes one last glance back…
He shouldn’t have looked.
He really, really shouldn’t have looked.
Because he turns around… only to see the sight of Mari hanging, swaying in the wind just like the leaves.
He can’t tear his eyes away fast enough. A sharp gasp escapes him, but he makes no more sound.
Basil turns his head away. He can’t see her anymore.
As he enters the house again, feeling numb, reality sets in. He collapses against the wall, an overwhelming sense of grief and shock overtaking him. He can feel tears running down his face, and he ignores the whispers and attempts at comfort coming from Basil.
Mari… is dead.
And it’s all his fault.