Chapter Text
Basil’s been daydreaming about dyeing his hair for years. Not that he’s ever actually said so. He’s just… obvious. Every time Aubrey rolls up with her hair in a new shade of pink, his whole face lights up.
The next time the gang meets up for one of Kel’s games, she finally pops the question.
“So, when are you gonna let me dye your hair?”
Basil’s big blue eyes get even bigger. “Y–You want to??”
“Hell yeah I do! C’mon, what's the worst that could happen?"
He swallows. “Well. I could mess up the ratio on the bleach and lose all my hair… Or they might have mislabeled the d-dyes, so I’d end up looking like a clown… Or my professors might think I was, um, f-frivolous, or… unprofessional… Or they might not even recognize me! And when they tried to throw me out of lecture, I’d get so p-panicked I couldn’t even explain, so it’d get marked as an unexcused absence, and then—”
“Damn, dude, you’re really serious about this.”
He startles and stares.
“Sorry,” she snickers. “I just mean… Look, no one can say you haven’t done your research. But, hey! The good news is, everything you’re scared about is stupid.”
Basil gives her a reproachful look. “You only get three unexcused absences before they dock your grade.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Okay, dude, I gotchu. Check this out.” She counts on her fingers as she rattles off each reply. “You’re blonde enough that you can probably skip the bleach. We can do a test strip before we do your whole head. You’re a fucking literature major, half your professors have more tattoos than I do. And… uh. What am I missing?”
His frown is twitching at the edges, like it’s fighting with a smile. “Unexcused absence.”
“—and no one in all of history has ever been turned into a stranger by a little hair dye. But if you’re really worried, I’ll walk you to class after. That way, if you go all deer-in-the-headlights, I can talk for you.”
“Y-You’d really do that?”
“Yeah, it’s whatever,” she yawns. “I guess I'm just, like, a really good person.”
A snuffling little laugh slips out of him. “Well… if you really wouldn’t mind…”
“Hah!! Fuck yeah, dude! Look at you, being all brave and shit. When d’you wanna do this?”
“Well…” He looks sideways at her. “Um… Are you doing anything after this?”
###
After saying bye to the others, Aubrey has to double back to unlock her bike.
“Oh,” Basil says, frowning at it. “Hm.”
“What? You don’t think you can keep up?”
His eyes widen. “Um!!”
“I’m kidding,” she snorts. “Anyway, you absolutely could not. Don’t stress, dude, I was always gonna walk it. Unless you wanna ride on my handlebars?”
Basil looks down the hill and shudders. “D-Definitely not. Um. No offense.”
“Naw, that’s fair. I’d feel really bad if I had to brake and launched you into traffic.”
He chokes on a laugh. “...I could maybe try to stand on the back tires?”
“Ooh, very Ghibli. But I gotta pass. Great way to break an axle, unfortunately. It’s cool,” she reassures him. “It’s a nice walk.”
At the first crosswalk, Aubrey frowns and slows to a stop, nodding at Basil to keep walking. “Here, get on my left. I don’t wanna whack you with the handlebars.”
And if it also puts Basil on the inside of the sidewalk, further from the street, well. What about it? The gutters are still puddled with last night’s rain, and Basil’s outfit is way too cute to get splashed.
Basil tends to dress down for Kel’s community basketball games. (Kel might be the nicest nerd ever to dribble a ball, but jocks are still jocks.) So there’s no shimmer in the creases of his eyes, and only a couple of those silly little hairclips he likes. But his knitted sweater is covered with fuzzy white sheep, and the pale pink of his swishy wide-legged pants doesn’t look very mud-friendly.
Right on cue, a city bus screams past, spraying Aubrey with a spatter of grade-A grime.
“Oh!!” Basil gasps. “Are you okay?”
“No. I’m melting. Guess you’re gonna have to get Sunny to do your hair. Just, please… tell my story…”
“Hmph!! Then I guess you don’t want the Tide to Go pen I’ve got in my backpack!!”
“Pfffw,” she sputters. “Oh, my god, it’ll come off in the wash, you nerd. Anyway, these shorts have definitely seen worse.”
They take a quick detour to shop around for dye, and then they’re back on track. Outside of the CVS, Basil excuses himself to glance at his phone. He frowns.
“...Sunny?” Like she even has to ask.
Basil nods distractedly. “I’m a little worried…”
Basil is basically always a little worried, but this time, he’s got a point. “Yeah, I guess he was a little off today. He’s all worked up about this Kel thing, huh?”
“Oh my gosh, thank god you guys already talked about it—Yes!! They’re being so silly about this!! It’s—I mean—I don’t think I’m just making assumptions; of course I can’t see inside anyone else’s head, but it’s… From an outside perspective, it certainly seems like…”
“...They want the same thing, and they’re just being dumbshits about it?”
“Exactly!!!” Basil hesitates. “Well. Maybe not that last part. But Kel came over yesterday and oh my gosh, Aubrey, you would not believe how much they were—Ugh!! Okay, let me paint you a picture.”
Some people might call it gossip, but their friends have always loved nothing more than talking about their friends. Knowing everything about each other is just another way to love someone.
“Hey, here’s an idea,” she says, when she’s finished laughing her ass off. “Kel’s headed to your place later, right?” Basil and Sunny are the only ones who actually live there, but all five of them have the keys.
Basil nods.
“So, why don’t you crash at mine?” Nice. Totally casual. “Give Sunny a little space to sort his shit out, instead of just whining to us about it. Let’s be honest, those nerds need all the help they can get.”
Basil’s eyes widen. “You… wouldn’t mind?”
“Hey, c’mon! Why would I! It’s been way too long, anyway. When’s the last time we had a sleepover?”
“Probably, um.” He hesitates. “P-Probably after the psych ward.”
…Right. Obviously. Wow, she’s an asshole.
###
The last time Aubrey slept over at Basil’s house is also the first time in at least four years. (Assuming you don’t count the night she spent in his living room while, just down the hall, Basil was busy gouging out Sunny’s eye. Which Aubrey doesn’t. Basil wasn’t even there.)
It’s been exactly two weeks since Sunny moved away. Two weeks since Basil took Sunny’s eye, and Sunny clawed Basil’s face to bloody pulp. Two weeks since Sunny finally told the truth behind the lie that broke Hero’s heart and Basil’s mind and Aubrey’s ability to be a decent fucking person.
It was too much. Way too fucking much. Aubrey had only just found the strength to look at herself, at all the things she’d said and done and didn’t do. And before she even got the chance to properly apologize, the whole picture got flipped on its head. How is she supposed to feel about Basil now that she knows what he did? How is she supposed to apologize when she’s still so fucking angry?
She needs answers. She needs answers, or she'll never sleep through the night for the rest of her life. Where the fuck else is she supposed to get them?
The doctors at the psych ward don’t want to send Basil home. But he’s following the rules, giving the right answers to all their leading questions. And they need his room for kids that are still actively trying to shoot up their school or set fire to their stepdad’s trailer or whatever.
The doctors know that Basil is all messed up. Unstable. Dangerous. But the victim refuses to press charges, so, technically, there is no crime. At a certain point, their hands are tied. There’s nowhere else to put him. As usual, nobody wants him.
They did put him on antipsychotics, though. And sedatives. And anti-anxiety pills that make him feel like he’s floating underwater. All the drugs wrap his brain up in a soft blanket of fog, insulating him from the things he can’t stop remembering. The dark behind his eyes is still red with Sunny’s blood but it’s like a memory of a dream, a fairy tale he only half remembers. Once upon a time there were two boys, one made of poison and one made of blood. Rivers of blood. So thick that it runs almost black.
Basil floats home and floats down the hall and floats into his room. Someone’s carefully removed everything sharp, the bonsai trimmer and the pruning shears and even all the pencils on his desk. And the carpet is gone. There’s a spot on the floor where the wood’s bleached white. That must be where he did it.
Something rattles against his window. Outside, it’s already dark. On the other side of the glass, Mari swings from the tree.
Basil blinks and the picture rearranges itself. Not Mari. Too alive. And too... pink. Aubrey. But why would Aubrey be hanging from the tree? Aubrey isn’t even dead.
“Basil,” Aubrey’s voice hisses. It sounds real enough. But then, the voices always did.
Basil frowns. Weren’t the drugs supposed to fix him? It feels like they made him worse.
“Basil. Basil!! I know you’re in there, man, we are literally making eye contact. Will you open up already? I’m losing my grip.”
Basil blinks again. Is the actual Aubrey actually hanging from the tree? He can’t make it make sense but he can’t connect any thoughts with any other thoughts, so maybe it does make sense, and it’s just his mind that’s wrong. Just in case, he lurches to his feet and fumbles with the lock.
The floor feels like jello. He misses the window-lock three times before it clicks. Then the window rattles open, and Aubrey swings through it.
The picture warps. When Basil opens his eyes he’s on his bed again, slumped back against the headboard. But Aubrey is still there. She looks real. And strangely panicked.
“...Aubrrrr…? Why’re…”
His tongue fumbles the rest. He’s out of practice, talking. Even when he wasn’t, he was never any good.
Basil’s eyes won’t focus. His pupils are wildly dilated, as round as two dimes. Aubrey managed to wrestle him back into bed before he could crack his skull on the floor, but he’s still slipping in and out of consciousness. He keeps looking at her like he’s not sure she’s real. Shit. What kind of fucked-up shit did they dose him with?
“What‘rrr,” he mumbles. What are you doing here, probably. It’s a reasonable question.
Aubrey came here for answers.
She knows what happened. Sunny isn’t much for talking, but when he does, he’s always very clear. But she still can’t understand how, or why. And she can’t stop feeling angry. She feels just as sorry as she feels angry, but that only makes the anger louder. Her anger is an alive thing inside her and it won’t stop burning in her chest, clawing at her throat. It feels like it won’t stop until she understands.
But it doesn’t look like Basil is in any condition to help with that. Does he even know who she is?
“Aubrrrr,” he slurs, tilting over sideways. So that’s probably a yes. “What’s. What???”
She huffs a breath. “Sorry. I just, uh. I heard you got discharged, and…” Her hands curl to fists. “Look, I think we need to talk.”
To her horror, Basil bursts into tears.
“H-Hey, come on. It’s not like—” Muscle memory makes her reach for him. Actual memory reminds her to keep her hands to herself. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”
It only makes him cry harder. Basil curls into himself like he’s trying to disappear. He’s trying to say something but it’s just noise. The keen of an animal in pain.
She is fucking this up.
She shouldn’t be here. It’s so fucked up that she’s even here. The bully who made his life hell for the past four years—the psycho who tried to drown him—just forced her way into his bedroom. Of course he’s fucking scared.
She lets out her breath. “Sorry. This was stupid. I'll get out of your hair.”
“W-Wait,” Basil gasps. “Please wait, I’m s-sorry, I can s-st-stop crying, I— If you j-just g-give me a second I p-p-promise I’ll stop.”
Jesus. “That’s not… What the fuck are you even—-“ He’s shaking like a leaf, shuddering with the effort of holding it in. “Jesus christ, Basil, I don’t care if you cry! I just thought you’d want me out of here!!”
Basil shakes his head, pathetically fast.
Christ. How alone do you have to feel to beg for the company of someone who treats you like dirt? Jesus fucking christ, this kid has been so fucking lonely.
(And whose fault is that?)
The knife in her gut twists.
—Fuck. Okay. No. She's going about this all wrong.
When they were kids, Basil never liked getting doted on. When he cried, he wanted to be touched, but not looked at. Obviously the touch thing is a non-starter, given... everything. But he didn’t used to mind getting talked at. It helped break him out of it, sometimes. Otherwise, he could get stuck like that for hours.
Aubrey sits on the floor, deliberately nonthreatening. “...Do you want a minute? Or should I just talk at you?”
“P-P, Pl—“ He grimaces through his tears, makes a fumbling gesture. Go ahead.
His stutter is worse than she remembers. Almost as bad as when they first met. That’s probably her fault, too. The shrapnel in her stomach crunches and grinds.
“I’m sorry I shouted,” she says quietly.
Basil’s forehead scrunches. The motion wrinkles the scabs feathering his face, making him wince.
“Sorry. I mean, uh. In the hospital. After Sunny—Um.” Stupid. He knows when. “I didn’t mean to, uh.” She clears her throat. “I was just. Overwhelmed.”
Basil’s head tilts. His eyes are clouded, uncomprehending.
“I—” Aubrey huffs impatiently. “Have you heard from Sunny?”
He shakes his head. “They didn’t let me keep my phone.”
Of course not. “Sorry. I, uh. I still need to talk to you. If that’s okay. But honestly, dude, you look like shit. You should probably, like… rest? I can come back in the—”
“No,” he gasps, lurching forward so violently that he would've toppled out of bed, if she didn’t fling an arm in the way. “P-P-Pl, p-p-please—”
“Hey, woah!! Careful! Jesus fuckin… I’m not going anywhere, okay? I don’t really get it, but… I dunno. I guess I could… stay… over?” It’s almost unfathomable. Aubrey hasn’t slept in Basil’s room since they were stupid little kids. Just a couple of unwanted brats who’d got lucky enough to worm their way into someone else’s family.
Immediately, she wants to take it back. Because, honestly, what the fuck is Basil going to think when he wakes up to find Aubrey on his floor? The monster under his bed, crawled out of his nightmares and into his waking world? But he looks so relieved that she can’t bring herself to do it.
A moment later, a pillow falls onto the ground beside her. It’s followed by a blanket.
Aubrey sits up a little, frowning. “Hey, c’mon. What are you—”
“Y’ll be cold,” Basil mumbles, semi-conscious.
…Christ.
Whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for her at home. Aubrey will just wait until he falls asleep and then slip out the way she came, like she was never even here. Then once the sun’s up, she can knock on the front door like a normal fucking person.
But when she opens her eyes, it’s already morning.
###
The scars on Basil’s face healed beautifully. Four years on, all that remains is a scatter of splintered white, like when you press your heel against a half-frozen puddle but only gently, not hard enough to crunch through to the mud. Or like those Japanese ceramics you make by smashing a pot and then painting it back together.
Not that she’s ever told him that. She wouldn’t know how to do it without hurting him. Basil is very good at hearing the worst possible version of whatever-it-is you actually said. Anyway, those wounds are already healed. No reason to cut into the scar.
She glances at the cross-streets. Just a few blocks till they reach her warehouse.
Aubrey’s warehouse isn’t really Aubrey’s, or anyone else’s, really. It’s just one of those places you hear about. Oh, the warehouse on the wharf? Dude, that place is haunted. It’s dark all day, but at night you can hear whispers. Or, Sure, it looks abandoned. But I hear there’s people living in the basement. They throw the craziest parties. My sister’s ex’s upstairs neighbor used to date someone who lived there. They’re all a bunch of freaks.
But Aubrey’s not scared of stories. And she’s definitely not scared of freaks. She cased the joint and then waited till sundown to let herself in through a broken window. And sure enough, like with most legends, the stories formed around a grain of something true. There really are a bunch of weirdos living in the basement.
Naturally, Aubrey sauntered down and introduced herself. Hey, sorry to barge in. I’m just looking for somewhere to crash. Ya’ll got room for one more?
It’s not really all that spooky. And they don’t even throw very many parties. The warehouse is just one more unwanted place, a little corner of the city that the waking world forgot. Aubrey’s always been good at making her home wherever she can find a foothold. She's had plenty of practice by now.
It’s not like she had nowhere else to go. She could crash on the couch at Sunny and Basil’s apartment indefinitely, permanently, and they’d be thrilled to have her. But Aubrey likes making her own place. She likes carving out a home with only her hands, without owing anything to anyone. She likes knowing that, if the ground falls away, she’s the one who’ll survive. If there’s no food left on earth, she’ll subsist on pride and spite.
‘Every man is an island,’ and all that bullshit. We all die alone. Aubrey intends to die on her feet.
###
Her room isn’t glamorous, but it’s home. She only gets one wall-socket, but she’s got a few extension cords taped to the wall a foot-and-a-half above the floor so she doesn’t get fried when it floods. And Sunny is very good at optimizing a confined space. He’s draped and layered enough shelves and lamps and hanging fabrics that her lightless little corner actually feels… sort of soft. Cozy-adjacent.
“You want a beer?” she asks cheerfully. She’s got a cooler under the bed.
“I—Um. I get kind of clingy when I drink.”
She can feel his eyes on her. Be fucking normal. “It’s all good, dude. I mean. I don't mind if you don’t.” Nailed it.
“Then, um. Y-Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
She cracks a beer and passes it over. Basil takes one sip and wrinkles his nose.
Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “Oh, are the libations not to milady’s liking? Were you hoping for a wine cooler or something?”
“I didn't even say anything!!!”
“You said it all over your cute face." Shit. It just slipped out. “Like a dog that licked a lemon,” she adds, recovering valiantly. “Have you seen those videos?”
They watch Youtube videos while Aubrey mixes the dye. Basil watches a chihuahua mix flinch away from a lime wedge and chokes on a laugh.
“Pfffw!!” he squeaks, beaming up at her. “It’s—s-so cute!!”
“Look who’s talking,” she huffs, shoving his face away with one hand. “Why ya gotta be so cute all the time, huh? It’s not good for my heart.”
“Ehehe. Aw, you don’t mean it.”
She really does, though.
The day Aubrey realized she was attracted to Basil, she had a very small identity crisis. She’d just assumed it wasn’t something she’d ever have to worry about, because of the whole ‘boy’ thing. But Basil isn’t a boy like Kel's a boy, all messy and stinky and careless. He's not a gender-void like Sunny, either. He's just… pretty. He's so pretty. He floats around in his stupid pastels with his stupid little hairpins and his stupid-enormous blue eyes and his stupid trembling hands clutched in front of him like hamster paws. And his freckles, just the faintest dusting across his cheeks and his shoulders. And—
“Aubrey? Y-You’re kind of staring.”
Fuck. Fuck her heart, he’s no good for her reputation. He’s got her acting like a loser just by fucking sitting there.
“Heh. Sorry. Just tryna visualize our endgame. Unless you wanna be in charge…?”
“N-No!!! I trust you!!”
God, she’s an asshole.
But as she works the dye in, Basil relaxes, and Aubrey forgets to feel anxious.
“You’re so lucky,” she sighs. “I have to fry my hair so bad to get this color to take.”
“It doesn’t look fried.” He loops the end of her ponytail around two fingers. “It’s still so soft.”
He’s so cute. “You just think that ‘cause you’re dying to have longer hair. And—greener hair!!” Aubrey rolls her eyes at herself. “Look, don’t think too hard about it. You’re nervous, right? Let’s just talk about something else, and then you can skip to the part where it’s already happened. Tell me about something! You got any scary stories?”
He hesitates. “Um.”
Fuck. Don’t be a fucking idiot, you know what he’s been through, what all of you have— “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, I’ve got one.” Basil chews on his thumbnail. “I… Y-Yeah, I’ve got one! A tale of… the supernatural.”
“I’m in, dude. Lay it on me.”
The year was 2008. Basil had just been fished out of a lake.
(“...Ah.”
“S-Sorry,” he squeaks, which is insane, because what the fuck does he have to be sorry about. “Th-That’s not the focus. The spooky part is what happened next.”)
He woke up in his bed. The house was dark. Polly had gone to sleep hours ago. And his window hung wide open. Its lock was broken cleanly in half.
“I f-figured it was just Kel being careless. But when I talked to Polly, she swore she’d left the window shut. I guess Hero had told her to keep me warm, so she was totally sure about it. And no one else had come in or out. It just… broke, all on its own. I always assumed I must have, I don’t know, sleepwalked, or something, but I wouldn’t have been strong enough to—”
When she leans forward to unpin another chunk of hair, he catches a glimpse of her face. His eyes widen, and then narrow. “Why do you look like that?”
“...Like what?”
“Like you know something!”
“Pfff, whaaat? How could I even—” Ah, shit. He’s totally got her. She’s always been dogshit at lying. “I mean…”
Basil’s jaw drops.
“Hey, come on! Let me explain, at least!!”
But when she looks at him, Basil doesn’t look angry, or even scared. He just looks very, very surprised.
“Ughh… Fine. You win, okay? I’ll talk. It was just—” She hesitates, fumbling for the right words. “They wouldn’t even let me see you, after.” After I pushed you in the lake.
When Hero dragged him out of the water, Basil was turning blue. His hands, his feet. The skin around his eyes. Sunny looked almost as dead but he had both arms clamped around Basil. He looked unreliable but when it mattered, he moved. Just like Mari.
Not like Aubrey. Aubrey totally froze.
(Sunny can’t even fucking swim.)
She clears her throat. “...Hero picked you up and they all ran off. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead.”
So of course she went to check on him. And yeah, okay, in the process, maybe she broke the lock on his window. And then got it jammed so she couldn’t even close it behind her. It’s the absolute least of her crimes.
When she closes her eyes she can almost still smell it. Mildew and drying algae with a twist of wet dog. Basil looked so small in his bed. She had to get right up close just to see that he was breathing. But only barely. He was shriveled up and so pale as to look almost bloodless. He looked like a naked molerat. And the room smelled—wrong. Not green like she remembered, but sour and dull. Something about it put her hackles up. Can humans even smell fear, or is that just dogs?
“Snrrnk,” Basil snickers, in the present. She startles and stares. To her shock, he’s grinning a small, toothy grin. “Eheheh… So, you… really came to check on me?”
God. He’s so much more alive than he was then. She can’t help but grin back at him. “Come on, man. It’s breaking and entering, minimum. A huge invasion of privacy.”
Basil shakes his head. “You just wanted to see I wasn’t dead.”
“W-Well…” When he puts it that way, it sounds so reasonable. “Coulda really scared you, though. And keeping you warm... I didn't even think about that. I was just trying to get out of there before I got caught.”
Basil gives her a melancholy smile. “Aubrey. It’s okay. Really. I’m… not exactly in a position to judge anyone else for—um. D-Doing something stupid because you got scared.”
…Right.
"Anyway, I think it's kind of sweet." His smile goes a little wistful. “I never imagined you’d care what happened to me, then. It’s kind of nice to think that… even when you still hated me, you didn’t want me d-dead.”
“Jesus christ, Basil. No, I mean… I’m glad you’re not mad, I guess. But your standards are all fucked sideways. 'Doesn't want you dead' is a really low bar.”
“W-Well! You didn’t gouge my eyes out, either! Not even one!!”
“Pfft,” she sputters. “Yeah, good point. I don’t get near enough credit for how many eyes I haven’t gouged out.”
He grins up at her. It’s a real one this time, warm and bright with just a spark of mischief. Aubrey’s stomach flips. He is way too fucking cute.
She huffs a breath, impatient with herself. She’s supposed to be the tough one, and he’s got her acting like some dumb loser teenager. Get a grip. You’ve got a job to do. Finish what you started, and then you can go around getting heart palpitations about some stupid pretty boy.
She gets another palmful of dye and squeezes it into the hair at the nape of his neck, just behind his right ear. Basil shivers.
“...You good?”
“S-Sorry,” he squeaks. “I’m. Um. Weirdly sensitive there.”
Fuck. She shouldn’t know that. It isn’t fair for her to have to know that.
Maybe she just needs to rip the bandaid off. Hey Basil, I think we should kiss. I want to put your earlobe in my mouth. You’re always wound so tight and I am dying to see how you look when you finally break.
…Jesus. Maybe just leave the bandaid on for now.
“I’m pretty much done here, anyway,” she tells him, as breezily as she can manage while acutely aware of her own heartbeat. “Now we just gotta kill an hour before you wash it out.”
“Oh!” he gasps. “Ohh, wow, we’re really doing this.”
“You better believe it. I’ll be right back, okay?” She holds up her palms, stained a murky swamp green. “Just gotta wash this off.”
When she gets back, Basil has pulled out her favorite jacket, the bleached denim with a million secret pockets for all her secrets. He’s digging around in his knapsack, so focused that he doesn’t even hear her come in.
“Don’t get scared.”
Basil jumps like a startled squirrel.
“Pfff. Sorry, sorry. Whatcha got there? Tryna steal my look?”
“I would never!! N-No, I was just… thinking of trying to patch it. The seams are splitting, see?” He shows her. “And this one is your favorite. Wh-What would you do if a thread came loose and got tangled in your brakes?”
“...Throw myself off my bike, I guess? Aim for something soft?”
“Aubrey!! That’s how you get concussed!!!! Or skewered on a fence or something!!”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m planning on it.” She flaps a hand at him, magnanimous. “Do your thing, dude. I trust you with my life. And my favorite jacket.”
That makes him frown a little. “Y-You probably shouldn’t…”
“Nuh uh, nope. Not interested. Sorry! If you get to put my life of crime down as a sweet scrapbook moment, I get to know you wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of, like… the world’s most fucked extenuating circumstances.”
Four years of guilt and shame and absolute, unrelenting loneliness. Four years of being told, over and over again, by someone he should have been able to trust, that he was a freak. Sick. Empty inside and wrong. Frankly, it’s a miracle that Basil made it four years. Aubrey would have started gouging eyes on day three.
…How would the story have gone if she hadn’t pushed Basil away? She used to be his confidant, the only one he trusted with his most shameful secrets. Things too ugly for even Sunny’s ears. Names his dad used to call him; little lies he told without even thinking and then couldn’t take back. Plants he’d killed and replaced with a seedling stolen from the Fix-It so no one would know what he did. He was so hungry for someone to tell. If Aubrey hadn’t decided to take all her anger out on him, would he have told her the truth himself?
Then everything would be different. Sunny would have his eyes, and Basil could smile without it fraying at the edges. Without always waiting for everything he loves to be taken away.
Basil sighs. “I only mean… You don’t have to, um, pretend, to—spare my feelings, or—”
“Basil,” she says firmly. “Have I literally ever done anything just to be nice?”
His mouth twitches. “Well…”
“Then patch the jacket, nerd. Don’t make me ask again.”
Basil gives her his rarest, most dizzying smile, all brilliance and warmth without a trace of fear. It’s a break in the clouds, sunlight trapped in amber. “Well. I guess if it’s an order…”
“God damn right. Hop to it, kid. Clock’s ticking.”
Basil’s eyes crinkle. By daylight, they’re a shocking glacier-blue, like moonlight on new snow. But down here in the dark, they shine almost green. Ugh. He is way too fucking cute.
Aubrey’s always had a soft spot for cute things. Little bunnies and baby kitties and fluffy little ducks. Of course Aubrey is a big tough badass who doesn’t need anyone. But to be honest, being a big tough badass who doesn’t need anyone isn’t really all that fun without someone to stand around and look impressed.
Not that she thinks of Basil as some fragile damsel in distress. Maybe he is a little fragile, but he’s hardy. He likes being looked after, but he doesn’t need it. When he’s thrown away, he knows how to survive. Just like her.
And there’s something sort of… noble about it. Being so soft, still, after everything that should have hardened him. Basil lived through a childhood that should have killed him and now he flits around like a knock-kneed little fawn that's never known hardship in all four minutes of its life. He's not weak. He’s delicate by choice.
“So…”
Aubrey jolts to attention. While she was lost in thought, Basil unearthed his sewing kit and went to work on her jacket. “Yuh huh?”
“...Sunny says you thought me and him were dating.”
“Sunny said that, huh?” Sunny is fucking dead to her. “Heh. Yeah, well. You can see why.”
Aubrey did a full-on spit-take when Sunny told her that he and Basil aren’t like that and, in fact, never were. In her defense, Basil and Sunny are cartoonishly married. They’re each other’s emergency contact. They have separate rooms in their shared apartment, so it’s clearly by choice that they sleep in the same bed. When they walk to the store (or the park, or anywhere, really), they walk hand-in-hand. They reach into each other's pockets without a moment’s hesitation. Personal space is not something they subscribe to.
“Sort of,” Basil says, hesitant. “But. Um. I guess I… never really knew what was normal. Is it really all that weird?”
“It’s not wrong,” she’s quick to clarify. Basil is always very worried about being wrong. “Just… I dunno. Like, of course it’d be great if everyone could cuddle and shit without having to sign some stupid social contract. But. In practice, most people just… don’t.”
“R-Right.” He chews his lip, frowning. “It really isn’t— Or. I guess I just… like being touched?”
I’ll touch you, if you want. As much as you want. Would you like that?
She shakes herself off. “Brother, I hear that. Hey, c’mon, don’t look like that! You’re doing fine. If anyone doesn’t think so, fuck them.” Shit. She’s rapidly losing ground. What the fuck do people talk about? “Uhh… Oh, okay, here’s a sleepover classic. First crush, go.”
Basil flicks a glance at her. “Who was yours?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Mari,” they both say in unison. Aubrey smiles, wry. “Hey, what can I say? I got great taste.”
“I remember that,” Basil giggles. “But Hero got there first, so we were both going to marry Sunny. ”
“Hah! We really fumbled that one, huh?”
Basil chokes on a laugh.
Aubrey grins at him. “Your turn.”
“Hehe. I guess it’s only fair. Mmh… It’s a little embarrassing, though.” He thinks about it. “I think I maybe can’t tell you, actually.”
“Huh? It isn’t just Sunny?”
“I told you, we’re not like that!!”
“Sure, not now. But not even then? Before… You know.”
Basil shakes his head. “I was… sort of a late bloomer, I guess. I never really thought about that stuff, before. And then after…” His eyes cloud over, reflecting the black hole of their past. “I don’t know. I guess it… wasn’t a priority.”
“You never had a crush on Sunny?” It’s almost inconceivable.
But Basil just shrugs. “Not in so many words.”
“You just like being touched.”
He looks up from his embroidery to grin at her, impish. “I-I think everyone does! It’s, um, s-sort of in our programming.”
His smile is coffee and honey, espresso-bitter and syrupy-sweet. Before she can stop herself, Aubrey reaches out and touches his face. Basil goes utterly still.
With the pad of her thumb, she traces the line of his jaw. He can feel it tingle in the base of his spine. When her thumbnail grazes his lower lip he leans instinctively into her, chasing the touch. Aubrey’s eyes are half-lidded, her gaze dark and curious.
“You’re so sweet,” she says softly. There’s something dreamlike in her expression. Basil doesn’t even breathe.
A door slams upstairs, breaking the spell. Aubrey's mouth ticks up ruefully and she tugs on the end of his hair, in the front where it’s longest.
“You should be careful with that stuff,” she says. “I know it’s, like, normal for you guys, but most people don’t spend all night spooning with their buddies and then kissing the homies goodnight. A guy could get the wrong idea.”
Basil’s brain fizzes and sparks. Say it. Just say it. She’s asking you to. ‘What if it’s not the wrong idea?’ Say it!!! He opens his mouth.
What comes out is, “D-Do you ever still hate me?”
“...Ah, geez.”
“Sorry,” he whispers. He’s always ruining things. He’s not as bad as he used to be but he still can’t just be normal. He can’t see something good without looking for the catch. “S-Sorry, forget I said anything, I—”
“Hey, c’mon, man. No. Even when I did, I didn’t really. I was just… putting you between me and the shit I actually hated.” She hesitates. “...Do you?”
“No,” he says easily. “But I never hated you, so. It’s different.”
“But you’re not—” She almost reaches for him. “Sometimes I worry about. Scaring you.”
“I wasn’t ever scared of you, either.”
“I pushed you in a fucking lake.”
“You didn’t mean to.” He says it so easily. Like he doesn’t even have to think.
“That’s not… Come on.” It just isn’t fair. Basil is so quick to forgive other people and so slow to forgive himself. It’s so easy for him to assume the best about nasty fucking bastard fucking bullies like Aubrey, and so god-damned impossible for him to give the same empathy to a freaked-out little kid who was too scared to lose anyone else. “You just—”
The alarm on Basil’s phone goes off. This time, both of them jump.
“T-Time to wash out the dye,” Aubrey says huskily. “Here, I’ll show you how to work the shower. Just, uh. Borrow a pair of flip-flops, okay? It’s kinda grody in there.”
###
The only shower in the warehouse is on the ground floor, above the basement where everyone sleeps. The door doesn’t lock and Basil is intensely anxious about someone walking in, so Aubrey stands guard from outside.
Aubrey listens to the water sputter and reminds herself not to be a fucking loser. Don’t be weird. Don’t be fucking weird. Don’t think about the water running down his—
“Do you have a change of clothes?” she says loudly. “I can get you. Pajamas.”
“Ohh!! I wanna pick!!”
He’s sooooo cute. “Heh heh. I’ll dig out some options.”
She hears the water turn off. A moment later, the water heater finishes clanking, and everything goes quiet. But Basil doesn’t come out.
“...All good in there?”
“Um,” he says.
Hm. Not a great sign. Shit, do they sometimes mislabel the dyes? She’s literally never heard of it happening, but if it was going to happen to someone… “Can I come in?”
“Mh. Um… Yes.”
Basil is wrapped up in a towel, frowning at his reflection. His hair drips little beads of pale green onto his chest and shoulders. And they definitely didn’t mislabel the dyes. The color is a little greener than it looked on the bottle, but that’s just ‘cause they didn’t bother with bleach.
But it’s cute. It’s really cute. He went with an ombré instead of dyeing his whole head because he “wouldn’t want to stir up any sad memories.”
(“…You’ve never had green hair though?”
“Mh,” he said vaguely, and didn't elaborate.)
So it’s still blonde at the crown of his head, but the hair that curls around his ears is a vivid shock of teal. The color makes his eyes look greener, makes his freckles pop.
“You look really cute,” she tells him, in part because he needs to hear it, but mostly because she can’t not. “Wow. Do you like it?”
He looks up at her and vibrates at at least 20,000 Hz.
“...Are you freaking out?”
“M-Maybe. A little. Yes.”
“Good-freaking out or bad-freaking out?”
He has to think about it.
“Wait, let me go first. You look so cute. It’s the perfect color, it’s gonna go with everything in your closet, you look like a—fuckin—-little forest fairy or some shit. I wanna shrink you down and put you in my pocket.”
“Ehe. Um. G-Good freaking out, I think.”
She grins at him, strangely proud. “You feel different?”
“You know, I actually do. Is that stupid?”
Aubrey nods sagely. “Welcome to the club, dude. Why do you think people dye their hair?”
“…To look really cool?”
“Yeah, that definitely doesn’t hurt. But naw, it’s all reinvention and shit. New hair new you.”
Basil twists one pale green lock around his fingers. “New me,” he whispers. The look in his eyes is almost hopeful.
She’s reaching out before she can stop herself, tucking his hair behind his ear and then lingering there for only a second too long. The lights on this floor are brutally fluorescent, but they catch on all the droplets spattering his shoulders. It makes it look like he's growing rhinestones, or sweating starlight.
“C’mon,” she says gruffly. “You’re gonna get cold, standing around soaking wet. Let’s get you some clothes.”
###
When they get back to her room, Basil insists on braiding her hair to “pay her back.”
“You don’t owe me shit, though?”
“Ohhh, just—let me play with your hair already!!!”
Aubrey grins at him, rakish. “Hey, you don’t gotta ask me twice.”
She likes Basil’s hands in her hair. It’s familiar. And having something to do with his hands seems to ground him. You can feel his hands lose their tremble, his movements turning sure. But still so gentle.
“Hey,” she says quietly. It’s easier for her to talk about this stuff when she doesn’t have to look at him.
“Mmh?”
“You really weren’t ever scared of me?”
“No.”
“Okay, but—”
“Aubrey. No.” He means it, too. He wasn’t even when he really should have been. “I—Um. I guess I missed you too much. And… even when you were being mean, you weren’t— I don’t know. I still knew who you were.”
She bristles. “Yeah, someone who was being fucking mean.”
“No. You weren’t… Well. Maybe you were, a little. But you weren’t—” Basil grimaces. He’s not sure how to say it. “I was scared of your friends, sometimes. A lot of them would have pushed me around just to prove themselves to you. So they could be—unpredictable. But you… You didn’t have anything to prove. Not to me. You were just. Revolted.”
The shrapnel in her belly grinds together. But she can’t say it isn’t true. It was wrong and she was wrong, but. She really let herself make Basil the root of all of her problems, just so she’d have someone to blame.
“You wouldn’t lay a finger on me,” Basil says quietly. “Some of your lackeys might, but you’d just… You just. You were just… lonely. And hurt, because I’d let you down.”
Fuck. That’s so fucked up. That’s not how she’d put it at all.
Basil rubber-bands the end of her braid and then tugs on it, unusually bold. “We were all doing bad, Aubrey. You weren’t any worse. And anyway, I know at least as much as you do about—you know. Doing s-stupid shit because you got too scared to be smart.”
I wasn’t scared, she almost snaps at him. But it isn’t true. She was scared for years after. She was terrified of living without Mari.
“Yeah,” she says quietly, leaning back against him. “Well. I’m glad we got better.”
###
When they were kids, Aubrey always used to sleep in Basil’s bed. It wasn’t weird. It was nice. Neither of them had spent much time being held, so they were both a little starved for it.
This feels different.
She can feel the warmth of Basil’s body, only barely curving toward her. Every shift in the sheets is a seismic event. The only light comes from the glaring red eye of her extension cord. Basil's ice-blue eyes look oceanic, deep and dark.
“...You’re so p-pretty, Aubrey.”
Don’t say something stupid. “Gay.”
“It’s literally the opposite???”
She snickers. In the half-light she can only barely see the way his smile makes his eyes crease. He’s so close. His face is inches away. Is this seriously just normal friend shit to him? Is she the only one who’s making a whole thing about it?
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Uh huh?”
“You and Sunny sleep in the same bed.”
“...Uh huh.”
“Like… every night. For years.”
“Uh…huh?” And your point is?
She’s getting to that. “You’re telling me you never got a little curious? Never even kissed?”
Basil lets out a snuffling little laugh. “Do you make out with all of your friends?”
“I dunno. Yeah. Some of them.”
Basil’s eyes widen. “R-Really?”
“Pfft. What, does it ruin my mystique?”
“No!! It’s cool!!! I just mean… Who??”
“Aw, I dunno.” She’s showing off a little, but Basil likes that kind of thing. “Mostly just Kim. Charlie, like, twice. A couple of the girls who used to live here.”
A line forms in Basil’s brow. “...All the girls.”
Well, yeah. “I like, uh. Pretty things.”
“Like Mari.”
Like you. “Yeah. I guess she was kinda the blueprint, huh.”
His mouth tugs down a little, the faintest troubled frown. She can feel the flutter of his sigh against her face. He doesn’t even look sad, just—resigned.
Ugh. He’s so annoying. He’s so determined that no one could ever like him just because they liked him. Just because he’s weird and intense and with an unexpected streak of mischief.
“Anyway. That’s why I thought,” she tries to explain. “That you and Sunny…”
Basil shakes his head. “Honestly, Aubrey, I think Sunny just… doesn’t really think about that stuff. So it just never came up.”
“What about you.”
“Wh-What?” His eyes are chips of seaglass. They catch all the light in the room.
“Do you think about that stuff?”
“Um.” His throat bobs. “Yes.”
“But not with Sunny.”
A quick, sharp nod.
“You just sleep with Sunny ‘cause you like being touched.”
Another nod.
“Yeah,” she breathes. She reaches up and traces the line of his collar. She thought boys were supposed to be rough but Basil feels so soft. Freckled skin and jutting bone. She can feel him trembling under her hand. “...Still not scared?”
Basil shakes his head, one quick jerk.
Aubrey’s fingers slide up the side of his neck. The tip of one fingernail grazes the soft skin behind his ear and a breath shudders out of him. The look in her eye is lazy, indulgent.
“Hey,” she whispers. “Can I try something?”
“A-Anything.”
Her mouth curls up. She nudges his chin with her thumb, tilts his face toward hers. Closes the space.
He’s just as hungry as she imagined. There’s a desperation, like he’s starved for it. Like he’d let her do whatever she wants.
They break apart.
“You were my first crush,” Basil blurts out.
“Nuh uh.”
“You were!!!”
Her mouth ticks up. She cradles the nape of his neck, digs her nails in a little just to hear him squeak. “You’re soooo cute.”
“You’re so cute!!!” he almost wails. “You’re so cool and so p-pretty and you’re so much cooler than me, I can’t understand why you’d—“
“Shh,” she tells him fondly, and shuts him up with her tongue.
###
An hour later they’re still awake, but Basil is starting to frown again.
“Hey,” she whispers, brushing the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “What’s this for.”
“Oh. Um. I just… I guess I wanted to ask… I m-mean, it’s okay if it’s just—god knows I wouldn’t d-date me, I’m all m-messed up and I'm always freaking out about, about nothing, and you’re so cool, and pretty, and strong, and— And I know this stuff isn’t, um, a big deal to you, ‘cause you k-kiss all your friends—”
“Only the really pretty ones.”
“—Right, but—” A giddy grin forces its way onto his face, scrunching his eyes to happy little half-moons, before he remembers that he’s trying to spiral. “Um. I only mean—It’s okay if this was just. If you were just. C-Curious. It really is okay, I promise I won’t make it weird, I just—”
She presses up on one elbow, leans into him a little. “Hey. Basil.”
He blinks up at her.
“Do you wanna go out?”
“H-Huh? Like… to the kitchen?”
“Oh my god, living with Sunny has fried your brain. No. Do you wanna date me, you stupid little squirrel.”
“Oh. Um. Y-Yes. Really badly.”
She slouches back against the pillows, smug. “Cool.”
###
…
……..
The morning after Basil gets discharged from the psych ward, he wakes up to find Aubrey on his floor.
He’s been awake for hours already, staring at the ceiling and pretending that he isn’t really here. He doesn’t want to be here. He ruined everything, again, for what feels like the millionth time. Like being bad is the only thing he's really good at.
His friends finally came back and he chased them all away. For good this time. He knows that. Basil might be poison but he’s not stupid. They tried to give him a second chance and he gouged out Sunny’s eye. They’re not going to give him a third.
It doesn’t matter. It’s better, maybe. The doctors say he’s unstable. Dangerous. At least if he’s alone, he can’t hurt anyone else.
Then he swings his legs over the edge of his bed and steps directly onto Aubrey’s face.
“Pffw!” she sputters, whipping an elbow around to swat him away. And maybe the drugs aren’t totally out of his system, because it also knocks his legs out from under him. Basil goes down hard.
“The ff–” she starts to mumble, still half-sleeping. Then her eyes snap open. “Oh. Fuck. Oh, shit, are you okay?”
“Aubrey???”
“Uh. That’s, uh. That’s what they call me.”
“Wh– What are you doing here???”
She lifts one shoulder, avoids his eyes. “Well. I tried to leave, but you kinda freaked out on me.”
Of course he did. “R-Right, but. Before that??”
“Yeah. Duh. Sorry. I’m… I came over last night. You were kinda out of it, but I was—” She slaps both hands against her cheeks, trying to wake herself up. “Sorry. I… came to talk.”
“With me???”
She rolls her eyes. “No, with my imaginary friends. I just came here for the ambiance.”
He stares. He doesn’t understand. Even if she does have questions that only he can answer, surely she could write them in a letter and wrap it around a brick and throw it through his window, or something. Something more—appropriate. In the circumstances.
“Sorry,” she sighs. “I don’t know why I’m being an asshole. I mean, I guess I know why, I basically built my whole fuckin brand around it, but—”
She stops herself again, takes a breath.
“I just… need to understand,” she says quietly. “I know what you guys did. But I can’t understand how, or why. And— I don’t think I can finish feeling angry till I do.”
Basil blinks at her, owlish. He’s never tried to explain it before. For obvious reasons. But maybe he could try? He opens his mouth and hesitates.
“Y-You don’t have to— I mean. Um. I-It’s okay if you don’t feel safe alone with me…”
Aubrey barks a laugh. “No offense, Basil, and I swear I mean this in the nicest possible way, but. Frankly, I could take you apart.”
Hm. She could do it, too. It’s a comforting thought.
“I—Um.” He chews his lip. “I might not say it right. It’s all sort of. Tangled up. In my head. And I haven’t— I’m out of p-practice. Um. T-Talking.”
For some reason, that makes her wince. “Right. Makes sense.” She lets out her breath, one long, slow exhale. “Well. I guess it’s been a while since I tried to, like... actually listen, so. I guess probably we’ll both do kinda bad. But—I dunno. I’m game if you are.”
Basil stares into her eyes, like he hasn’t in years. He doesn’t understand. Aubrey was supposed to leave him alone, like everyone else. He doesn’t understand why she’s here, on his floor, looking at him like he’s a person and not something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
He always messes everything up. He’s probably going to mess this up, too. But he can’t make himself run her off. He doesn’t want to be alone again.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll, um. I’ll try.”