Chapter Text
“Come on! You’ll love them!” a girl yells, dragging her friend along by the hand.
“I—o-okay," the blonde boy sheepishly replies. “B-But w-who—”
“Some people I met! They’re... they’re friends,” she responds, somewhat hesitantly.
Her companion raises a sceptical eyebrow at the word ‘friends’ and she doesn’t blame him. For the longest time, it’s just been the two of them, two strays lucky enough to find each other. But today that’s going to change! She’s found her people, and she won’t leave Basil behind.
“Trust me, Bas,” she says, putting on her best attempt at a reassuring smile. “They’re really nice. They helped me find my shoe!”
“You l-lost your shoe?” the boy asks.
“Never mind that!” she yells, practically radiating excitement. “Look! They’re here!”
Just up ahead of them, a small group waits patiently. Her new friends consist of two pairs of siblings: the annoying, energetic Kel and his charming older brother, Hero, and the cute, quiet Sunny and his incredible older sister, Mari.
“Hello, Aubrey!” the older girl greets. “Oh, who’s your friend?”
The blonde boy hesitates, and Aubrey feels a slight tug on her hand. She turns around and is greeted by a nervous wreck. The boy looks like anxiety personified as he tries and fails to stutter some lame excuses. Aubrey sighs, smiles, and mouths ‘it’ll be okay’. It’s a small gesture, but it seems to reassure her companion.
Satisfied that her friend is comfortable enough to begin introductions, she turns back to face the group in front of her.
“Hi, Mari! Hey guys! This is—”
“Basil,” Aubrey deadpans.
The setting sun illuminates the boy’s blonde hair, highlighting that same stupid flower pin he’s been wearing for years now.
This is the closest he’s been to her house in a long time, and she does not appreciate the impromptu visit.
“The hell do you want?” she asks, despite knowing damn well what he wants.
It’s the photo album. It always is.
Ever since she rescued the accursed thing from the clutches of this freak, he has not stopped pestering her about it. A part of her almost respects his commitment. Almost. She’s put this sad excuse of a man on his ass more times than she can count by now, and yet, he remains undeterred. Maybe he hopes to win a war of attrition, where his incessant whining and begging eventually gets through to her, and he becomes too pitiful to hit.
“I—the album—Aubrey plea—” Basil whines, before being cut short by a firm right hook to his face.
‘Not today,' she thinks, before, quite literally, kicking him while he’s down.
He whimpers in pain, coughing a couple of times, before wiping his now bloody nose and attempting to rise again. Of course, she doesn’t give him the chance to do so; lightly shoving him, he collapses back down onto the pavement like a tower of cards. It’s a truly pitiful sight, but unfortunately for him, she does not pity him. She knows what kind of person he is: he’s a coward, a traitorous rat, a snake in the grass, a—
...Actually, those terms might be too generous. She’s never seen a rat or snake that could get floored by a gust of wind. Whatever, he’s the worst, simple as.
“Take a hint,” she says, without any hint of emotion in her voice. A year ago, she might have felt more passionate about all this, but now? Now, she’s just tired. Tired of all the excuses, the begging, the whining, Christ, the whining. “Now, will you just piss off already?”
“N-No,” he mumbles, in some pathetic mimicry of resistance. “Please! I-I just—”
“Oh, for fu—if you wanted it, if you really wanted it, then you wouldn’t have ruined it in the first place!” she snaps, sick of all his excuses.
Much to her surprise, Aubrey spots a flash of anger cross Basil’s face, and for a brief moment, she thinks that he’s finally going to fight back. Part of her has been hoping he would for years now. But predictably, nothing happens, the boy bites his tongue, and whatever rage he’d felt fades as fast as it came, a defeated expression taking its place.
“I’m—” he goes to say.
“Just—just stop,” she interrupts, not even trying to mask her disgust. “Get out of my sight, you—”
“Aubrey.”
Basil’s eyes widen, and the girl feels her blood run cold. She knows that voice, sure, she doesn’t hear it very often, but she could never forget it.
Steeling her nerves, she turns around to face her trash heap of a house. Sure enough, her mom stands silently in the doorway. The ragged woman doesn’t say a word; she simply gestures indoors before stumbling back into the house.
Aubrey freezes for a moment, before finally snapping out of her stupor. She hasn’t seen her mom leave that stupid couch for... well, months now. But she still knows better than to keep her waiting. Cursing under her breath, Aubrey clenches her right arm in a vain attempt to keep it from shaking.
“A-Aubrey?” Basil asks sheepishly.
‘Oh right...’
Aubrey had completely forgotten he was still here. Turning back to face him, she sees the blonde looking up at her with... pity?
“Get lost, freak,” she scoffs, ignoring the sudden pit in her stomach.
Basil struggles to rise for a minute, but eventually stumbles back onto his feet, and looks up at her one last time, before staggering off down the street. She watches on until he’s out of sight. He never looks back.
Letting out a shuddering breath she didn’t know she was holding, Aubrey braces herself, and then enters the house.
She steps through the door and suddenly she’s thirteen again, a pitiful girl cowering under the gaze of her towering mother. The drunken mess of a woman raises her hand, and Aubrey instinctively flinches... but nothing happens. Opening her eyes, she sees her mother standing there, a blank expression on her face. Without a word, the woman sighs, stumbles across the room, and collapses back down onto her usual spot, glued to the couch once again.
Aubrey stands in place, as still as a statue, dazed. It was like her mom had remembered she was a parent for five seconds, only to immediately forget again before she even started her ‘scolding’.
‘Typical...’
Aubrey simply groans, takes a second to catch her breath, and then strolls through the cluttered living room, past the useless lump of flesh she calls a mother, and up the rickety ladder to her room. It may be small and uncomfortable, with a leaky roof and no heating (during winter, it’s practically an ice box), but it’s still the cleanest room in the house.
She'd tried keeping the rest of the place as tidy as here for a while, but those efforts were soon abandoned. Turns out that spending entire days ferrying trash out of the house, just for it to be swiftly replaced, is quite demoralising.
Taking a second to pet her rabbit, Bun Bun (she was never good at naming), she makes a beeline for her bed, before collapsing down onto it with a thud... and a crack.
‘God damn it.’
Today has been just peachy, truly the height of her Summer. She spent most of it wandering aimlessly around town because none of her friends were free until tomorrow, then Basil came and bothered her, then her ‘mother’ almost gave her a panic attack, and now her bed's broken.
‘Fantastic.’
Whatever, she’ll get it fixed... eventually. That is to say, after she's fixed the leak in her roof, the lock on the front door, those damn drainpipes again—
Oh! And how could she forget the fifty other issues with this house that she can barely fix but will still have to do on her own because God forbid her mother actually act like a parent!
...
“GOD FU—ARGH!" Aubrey curses as she slams her fist down onto the side of her bed, cutting it on the splintered wood.
Great, she can’t even vent her frustrations without getting hurt.
“Of course,” she grumbles, voice thick with venom, as she examines her hand. It’s just a few scratches, it stings, but she’ll be fine. Well, if you can call any of this fine.
As the pain fades, her anger returns. Why the hell does she have to do all this crap? Why couldn’t she be born to loving parents or live in a house that isn’t collapsing around her? It’s not fair! She’s sixteen! Her peers’ biggest worries are what they’re going to wear tomorrow, whilst she has to worry about her own roof falling down on her!
‘Where did it all go wrong?’ she wonders, her eyes involuntarily drifting over to her desk. There lies Basil’s her photo album, right where she left it.
The desk itself is adorned with a few select photos she keeps separate from the rest. Specifically, photos of Mari...
‘ Great! Like I didn’t already feel like shit! ’ she mentally curses.
Like a woman possessed, Aubrey finds herself rising from her shattered bed and making a beeline for the desk. She stands there for a moment, staring at the photo of a very embarrassed Mari. She looks so young, so alive, and so very flustered. Basil, being as inconsiderate as ever, had taken this photo when Mari missed a key on her piano.
Mari was always a bit of a perfectionist, so she was very embarrassed by the photo. But even in that moment of weakness, she still smiled.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Aubrey says, thinking aloud. “You were happy... we were happy...”
The longer Aubrey stares at the photo, the more she swears she can still see lingering pen marks on the Polaroid’s surface. She’d cleaned them all to the best of her ability, but Basil had really gone to town with that marker pen.
‘ That freak. ’
Glancing over at another photo, she sees that same lively smile on Mari’s face.
“...Weren’t we?”
It’s hard to believe it’s been four years already. Honestly, it still feels like yesterday, she vividly remembers the sirens, the screaming, the crying, and all those other distant echoes that somehow feel more real to her than this very moment.
“It’s kind of funny,” Aubrey laughs joylessly. “It’s been years, but some days I still feel like I’m dreaming. Like I’ll wake up any second by your side...”
Another photo, another smile. Aubrey struggles to find it reassuring this time.
“...And you’ll tell me this was all just some stupid nightmare.”
This next photo is of the two of them... was her smile always that much wider than Mari’s?
“But that’s not going to happen... you—you left us... you left me. ”
Mari is wrapped around Hero in this photo. Aubrey wonders if they ever actually made their relationship official, it was an open secret, but she’s not sure they ever gave it a title.
Not that it matters, he left her too.
“Why?” Aubrey sobs.
‘Why did she leave me? Why did he leave me?’
Mari is carrying her brother Sunny on her back in the next polaroid. They both look happy, truly happy. Sunny never smiled much, but when you got to know him, you could tell when he was happy, and he looks very happy here. Still, it was a rare treat when he did smile.
They used to hang out all the time, but she hasn’t seen him in years now. Mari left her first, but he was the next to go.
“Why?” Aubrey begs.
‘Why did you leave me?’
The last photo is a group photo. Basil’s birthday party—a painful reminder of who these photos used to belong to. And as if seeing the blonde wasn’t bad enough, her eyes are quickly drawn to an all too-familiar toothy grin. Kel... he still smiles like that, even after everything, it disgusts her just how little he cares.
“Why?!” Aubrey demands.
‘ Why did you betray me? Why did you betray Mari? Why don’t you care? Why did you all leave? ’
Mari is smiling in all these photos.
‘ Did you all hate me that much? ’
“WHY?!” Aubrey roars, as years of misery surface once more.
But nobody responds.
For a brief, traitorous moment, part of Aubrey almost understands why Basil scribbled all over these damn photos. Right now, she can barely look at them herself. She quickly banishes the thought, though, barely giving it a second of consideration.
Catching her breath, Aubrey glares at the photo of Basil’s birthday and she sees herself smile back at her. She promptly turns the photo upside down and makes her way back to her bed. Crashing back down onto it, she does her best to ignore the cracking noise it makes. Staring up at the ceiling, Aubrey can’t help but let her mind wander.
Mari, Sunny, Hero, Kel, herself and Basil, the six of them used to be like one big family. Major emphasis on used to be...
‘ ...How stupid, ’ Aubrey thinks to herself. She should really be used to her family failing her by now. Glancing over at the distant photos one last time, she sees that same smiling face watching over her. ‘You're all I have left... and you're not even here. ’
Everyone she’s ever cared about has ended up leaving her. She hates them for it, but still...
‘It would be nice to go back to the old days.'
And with that thought, Aubrey loses consciousness, finally letting sleep take her.
‘Something is wrong,' is the first waking thought Aubrey has.
Rather sadly, it’s because she’s comfortable. Her room has always been the best in the house, but that’s like having the best cell in a prison; it’s not exactly a bragging right.
The point is, the bed she’s lying on is actually comfortable, and she hasn’t woken up to the smell of mould. Meaning this isn’t her room.
“Wakey, wakey!” an enthusiastic and weirdly familiar voice suddenly calls out, followed by a series of loud knocks.
Opening her eyes and blinking a few times confirms her fears. This definitely isn’t her room, first of all, it’s far too clean, secondly, the knocking is coming from a door in front of her, and she lives in an attic.
‘Where the hell am I?’
“Aubrey? Is everything okay?” the voice asks, sounding even more familiar this time. “I’m coming in, okay?”
Aubrey is far too confused to process anything going on around her, let alone reply, and so it comes as some surprise when the bedroom door gently opens, revealing...
“Basil?” she mumbles.
“The one and only,” Basil replies with a chuckle, although his smile quickly fades when he spots Aubrey’s confused expression. “Are you feeling okay?”
‘Ah, that explains it. This is Basil’s house. I’ve been kidnapped...’
...
‘I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!’
Screaming, the terrified delinquent practically launches herself out of bed, before grabbing a nearby alarm clock and flinging at the blonde’s head. The boy screams in response, narrowly dodging the projectile, which then shatters against the wall behind him.
“WHAT THE—” he yells, before having to dodge yet another random bedside ornament. “AUBREY?!”
“BITE ME, FREAK!” she screams, desperately searching for something else to throw at him.
“Aubrey, what the—what's wrong?!” Basil begs, clear, genuine confusion, as well as a slight hint of frustration evident in his tone.
“SCREW YOU!” Aubrey screams in response, flinging her pillow at the blonde in a pitiful display of resistance.
She always knew Basil was a freak, a stuttering mess of a person, a traitorous, pathetic rat. But she never thought he’d kidnap her!
“H-Hey! Just calm down oka—”
“Calm down?” she repeats, in complete bafflement at the blonde’s audacity. “Calm down?!” she says again, anger now clear in her voice. “Don’t tell me to calm down, freak! YOU JUST KIDNAPPED ME!”
“What?! Aubrey, what are you talking about?! This is literally your room!”
“Bullshi—” she goes to argue before stopping and taking a second to look around.
It’s not her room. It’s not the dingy attic she rots away in every night; it’s clean and comfortable, with a solid roof and no drafts. It’s the exact opposite of her house... but it has her stuff. The limited edition SpaceBoy poster she scrounged up enough spare change to buy, her ever-reliable bat (although noticeably lacking its nails), and even Bun Bun, sat in his cage, cute as ever, staring at her with wide, concerned eyes.
“I—What?” Aubrey mumbles, her head spinning.
Basil says something, likely some vague reassurance, but she can’t hear him. Everything suddenly seems distant, her ears are full of static, and a dull white noise rings through her head as her vision blurs. For a moment, Aubrey feels completely detached from everything around her, until suddenly, almost intrusively, something comes back into focus.
‘The photo album.’
The same one that Basil had tarnished all those years ago, a symbol of their friendship and its explosive end, is right there, firmly tucked under his arm.
‘How?’
Impulsively, Aubrey lunges forward and grabs the album, pulling it out from under Basil’s arm. The boy doesn’t protest; instead, he just gives her a strange look. Ignoring it, Aubrey opens the book and flicks through its pages. It feels heavier than she remembers, and the photos of Mari are back where she took them from, but otherwise, it’s exactly the same.
It doesn’t take long for Aubrey to reach the last page, flicking past it she expects to see the same blank page she always—
‘Huh?!’
There’s a new page.
‘How is there a new page?!’
Aubrey blinks, but the page doesn’t fade away. Hesitantly, she reaches her hand out and touches it, feeling the smooth texture of polaroids. They’re real, she can’t deny that, but—
“This doesn’t make any sense,” she mutters.
She doesn’t stop to truly look at the photos, they’re a blur, an impossibility her mind refuses to process. Aubrey blinks, focusing in on one of the photos. She sees familiar smiling faces looking up at her and promptly flings the album down to the ground.
“Hey!” Basil protests. “What is wrong with you?! And where... where’d you get that outfit?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, his anger fading as confusion takes its place.
“I’m dreaming,” Aubrey mumbles, ignoring the blonde's concern. “This is just some messed-up nightmare,” she reasons.
It has to be a nightmare because that’s the only thing that makes sense right now. Pinching her arm, however, proves otherwise, as does pulling her hair.
“Hey! Stop that!” Basil yells, visibly alarmed. “You’re hurting yourself.”
Aubrey stares blankly at the blonde for a moment, before once again lunging at him. Grabbing him by the collar, her wild eyes glare into his own wide ones.
“What the hell is going on?!” she demands.
“G-Good question,” he stutters in response.
“Why am I here? Where is here? Why is there another page in the photo album?!”
“Another page?”
“You heard me!”
Basil stares at her with equal parts worry and sympathy. It makes her feel sick.
“Is this like one of those ‘wake up not knowing where you are’ things?” he cautiously asks. “Because you’re home, Aubrey, you’re safe, everything is going to be okay.”
His words have the opposite of the intended effect, as Aubrey feels her eye twitch.
“Stop talking nonsense! I swear to—”
“Kids! Is everything okay?” a feminine voice calls out, interrupting Aubrey’s tirade.
“...Who the hell is that?!” Aubrey whisper-yells.
“Polly? Aubrey, seriously, what the—” Basil replies with a baffled expression, before sighing and yelling back at the woman. “We’re fine! We’ll be out in a minute!”
“Well... okay then!” ‘Polly’ replies after a moment.
Aubrey releases her grasp on Basil, and an awkward silence falls over the room.
“Okay, what the heck is going on?” the blonde asks.
“You can say hell,” Aubrey deadpans.
“Aubrey.”
“Don’t ‘Aubrey’ me freak!”
“What is your problem?! ...And why are you dressed like that?”
“Hey, you don’t shame me, mister ‘same outfit for the past four years’!”
“First of all, how dare you. Secondly, I WASN’T INSULTING YOU! It’s a good look! It’s just differ—”
“Creep.”
“TAKE THE COMPLIMENT!”
Aubrey raises an eyebrow. Basil’s arguing back, he’s yelling and has only stuttered once this entire conversation. It’s nothing like the blonde she knows...
“This is weird. I hate this,” she states.
“Trust me, I’m not having fun either,” Basil deadpans. “Look, is this—is this like, a girl thing? Should I call Mari?”
“A girl thing? God, Basil, you’re such a—wait... what did you just say?” she asks, doing the mother of all double takes.
“Should I call Mari?” he asks again.
'Stunned', is the only word that could describe how Aubrey feels right now. She imagines her face must look ridiculous right now, her mouth must be so agape it appears like her jaw is trying to break free from the rest of her body.
“Are you a medium?” she asks, with equal parts venom and bafflement, being too confused to be truly offended.
“No, but I do feel like I’d have more luck talking to a corpse right now,” Basil deadpans.
“Oh, so you think you’re real funny,” Aubrey mocks, genuine anger beginning to surface again. “Mari’s dead and you think—”
“WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” Basil yells, his frustrations finally surfacing. “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!!!”
“I— Mari—”
“Is coming home from college tomorrow!” Basil interjects exhaustedly. “You know this! You know where you are! Why are you acting like this?! Why are—” he pauses, sighing and taking a deep breath. “Aubrey... what’s wrong?” he asks earnestly.
A thousand thoughts rush through her mind; she has a million and one questions to ask right now, but she can’t possibly verbalise them. Still, she has a feeling she knows what’s going on, but her theory seems so absurd it can’t possibly be true... but what Basil said...
‘Mari’s alive? ’
“Show me,” is what she eventually settles on saying.
“What?”
“Mari.”
“Aubrey she isn’t home until tomorrow. I literally just told you—”
“The graveyard. Show me.”
She’ll believe it when she sees it with her own eyes.
“Oh... that’s what this is... okay then,” Basil complies, cryptically. “But can we have breakfast first?”
Her immediate reaction is to tell him to piss off, but her stomach rumbling beats her to it.
“Guess that’s a yes then,” Basil smirks before turning around and exiting the room.
‘ I hate this already .’
Despite herself, Aubrey follows after him, but stops for a second to look at a framed photo in the hallway. It’s a picture of a younger Basil, his grandmother... and herself. She looks about thirteen, she’s smiling widely, and her hair is bleached blonde, meaning this must have been taken a month or two before she dyed it pink.
The thing is, she and Basil had already stopped being friends by then, and she would definitely remember taking this photo with him.
But the smiling faces don’t lie. That’s them, alright. Seemingly friends at a time when she wanted nothing more than to strangle him, smiling together, when she wanted him dead, posing for a photo that she doesn’t remember taking.
“...What the hell.”
“Mmm, these are delicious, Polly,” Basil compliments between bites.
Aubrey can’t bring herself to disagree—these are some damn good pancakes. Polly’s cooking (or is it baking?) is truly impressive. Obviously, it’s nothing compared to what Hero and Mari used to make, but it’s still pretty good.
“Aw, thank you, Basil,” Polly replies earnestly. “Are you enjoying your food, Aubrey?
“O-Oh yeah, they’re good... really good, thank you,” Aubrey stutters, caught off guard by the sudden attention.
It’s just her, Basil, and Polly at the dinner table; she hasn’t dared to ask where Mrs Flower is yet.
But from what she’s surmised, it seems like Polly is the flower boy’s caretaker, although she acts more like his parent... and hers for that matter... It’s weird, but kind of nice. She still has no idea what’s going on here, but it’s clearly not a dream or a kidnapping. However, that leaves only a handful of explanations, all of which are equally ridiculous, like something straight out of an eighties SpaceBoy issue. Whatever, she’ll know for sure when she sees the graveyard; until then, she won’t completely write off the dream/kidnapping theories.
“So... you two care to explain all that yelling?” Polly asks.
‘Asks’, is a generous use of the word—her tone leaves little room to not comply. She sounds like a disappointed parent, and despite herself, Aubrey suddenly feels nervous. Glancing at Basil, he looks similarly hopeless.
‘Useless,’ she mentally curses.
“I uh... had a nightmare... a really bad one,” she awkwardly explains. Technically, it’s not a lie—this entire morning has felt like a bad dream.
“Yeah! She was just freaked and confused,” Basil adds.
“Yeah, I... I forgot where I was... maybe threw a couple of things too,” Aubrey says, mumbling the last part.
“She broke an alarm clock!” Basil clarifies, a mischievous grin on his face.
“You son of a...” Aubrey curses under her breath, glaring at the blonde.
“Language!” Polly interjects, clearly exhausted. “Look, I’m sorry to hear that, Aubrey, and I’m glad you’re both okay, but you are cleaning up whatever mess you’ve made. Understood?”
‘ Isn’t that literally your job? ’ Aubrey thinks. “Understood,” is what she actually replies.
The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence. It’s not quite uncomfortable, but it’s still... strange. But then again, this entire day has been strange so far. Despite all the mounting evidence proving otherwise, Aubrey still can’t help but hold out hope that this is just some strange dream.
She doesn’t know what she’ll do if it isn’t.
Faraway town looks the same as ever. That shouldn’t be too surprising though; it’s a small town with a shrinking population, where more shops close than open, and only continues to exist because enough of its residents are too complacent to actually leave.
Still, with how different things have been today, Aubrey was half expecting to step outside the Flower residence and see an apocalyptic wasteland or a fantasy wonderland or something equally absurd. But no, strolling down the same streets she does every day, it’s clearly just good ol' Faraway. Although, there is one difference she can’t help but notice, and it's how people look at her. Only yesterday, every passerby looked at her like she was the scum of the Earth, most not even bothering to hide their disdain for her mere existence.
But today? Nothing.
So far, every person she’s passed hasn’t given her so much as a second glance. No stares or glares, no rolled eyes, no insults muttered under breaths, absolutely nothing. Hell, she’s pretty sure a few people have even smiled at her. It feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. The world itself is uncanny in a way she can’t quite describe. It’s like staring at a painting you’ve owned for years, but then waking up one morning and realising something about it is just off. Maybe there’s a tree where there shouldn’t be, or a house that’s painted a different colour to what you remember, or a former friend who’s acting like your bestie again.
“We’re here,” Basil states, snapping Aubrey out of her thoughts. He’d insisted on joining her, despite her numerous protests. “You ready?” he asks.
Before the pair looms Faraway Church, her not-so-safe space for the past four years. Every week she’s passed through these doors seeking closure, she hasn’t found it yet, and she doubts she will today.
Still, she’s never missed a sermon.
“Sure,” Aubrey replies dismissively. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, the duo enter into a mostly empty nave. It’s deathly quiet, with the aisles being scarcely populated by a handful of silent visitors. It makes sense though, the sermon won’t begin for another few hours yet.
Standing by the altar are the Preacher and an old woman, both of whom pause their quiet conversation to look up at the newcomers. The lady in particular stares at Aubrey with an indiscernible expression.
‘Ah, here we go,’ Aubrey internally laments.
The judging stares, the muttered comments, the blatant disgust and disdain, Aubrey gets it all and a lot more on the streets of Faraway. But it’s somehow worse in the aisles of this Church. Maybe that’s because she’s more vulnerable here, so it feels that much worse, or maybe it’s because the Churchgoers are some of the only people in this town who have the nerve to outright insult her to her face. Either way, she’s hardly surprised this place has remained unchang—
“Aubrey!” the Preacher greets with a warm smile. “You’re quite early today; the sermon won’t start for another few hours yet.”
Okay, that’s a bit strange, the Preacher has always been one of the kinder people in this ‘flock’ of his. But he’s usually more nervous than happy to see her.
“Yeah, I’m just visiting—” she goes to reply, biting her tongue before she can say ‘Mari’.
Aubrey doesn’t know why she doesn’t say her name. Mari is why she’s here, Mari is who she’s visiting, Mari is the one buried in the yard outside, Mari—
“Is coming home from college tomorrow! ”
Snapping out of her brief stupor, she silently gestures in the general direction of the graveyard. The two adults seem to understand as they nod in solemn recognition.
“It’s good that you’re visiting,” the Preacher says after a moment. “I hope you can find some closure.”
“Me too," the old lady adds. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Okay, now that is strange. Aubrey could have sworn this same woman was calling her an infidel or something equally damning last week, and now she’s being nice?
‘ What the hell is going on?! ’
“I—uh, thank you...” Aubrey replies awkwardly.
It’s quiet for a moment, painfully quiet, until Basil suddenly speaks up.
“Right, well, we really should be going!” he says.
“Ah, of course,” the Preacher replies. “I’ll leave you to it then, take care you two.”
“Take care,” the old lady agrees.
With that, the two adults resume their previous conversation, leaving Aubrey and Basil to face the graveyard.
...
Suddenly, the door leading out back feels a lot more intimidating. It’s irrational, she knows this, she’s passed through this same door countless times, she knows what awaits her out there.
‘Except you don’t. Not today.’
“Are you okay?” Basil asks, causing Aubrey to release a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“I’m fine,” she dismisses. “Just shut up and follow me.”
Basil simply frowns in response, but still follows her as she strolls over to the exit. Taking another deep breath, Aubrey opens the door and is almost immediately stunned by the sudden flash of bright, blinding sunlight. She swears this graveyard is always unusually sunny.
Shading her eyes with her hand, Aubrey is finally able to take in the sight before her, and as expected, it’s the same graveyard she’s been visiting for the past few years.
Everything looks exactly the same as when she was last here. It’s almost reassuring.... almost.
‘Here goes nothing then,' Aubrey thinks, taking yet another deep breath before setting off towards Mari’s grave. Basil follows at a distance, but she pays him no mind. Likewise, the strange caretaker looks up from a grave he was tending to and gives her an odd look, but Aubrey ignores him, too.
There’s only one thing she’s focused on right now.
Approaching the grave, Aubrey is hit with a strange mix of emotions; she’s both relieved and upset to see that the tombstone is still there. It’s a confusing feeling. But one thing is certain: she is going to hurt Basil for this. She has no idea how he’s pulled this all off, but this little prank of his is not going unpunished.
Clenching her fists, Aubrey stares at the gravestone, her anger slowly rising. He kidnapped her, lied to her, and had the audacity to say that Mari was—
‘Wait...'
Looking at the grave a bit closer, Aubrey notices it’s in a much poorer state than she recalls, and the text is... different.
“...W-What?” she mumbles, stumbling backwards.
The faded moss-covered text reads:
‘HERE LIES SHERRY WILLIAMS.
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.’
“Mom... but—but how?” she asks aloud, her voice quiet and shaky. Frantically glancing around the graveyard reveals no sign of Mari’s tombstone, meaning Aubrey is definitely in the right spot.
But Mari isn’t.
“This—this doesn’t make any sense...” she stutters. “This—you—”
This should be Mari’s grave, not her Mom’s. Aubrey was at her funeral; she saw them lower her coffin into the ground, not to mention she literally saw her mother alive and ‘well’ yesterday. But if Mari isn’t here then...
Her mind is a mess, relief, confusion, sadness, glee, anger, and grief all rush through her head at once. It takes all her will to not collapse on the spot, so instead, Aubrey just stands in place, as still as a statue, staring at the tombstone, waiting for the text to change.
But it never does.
“Mari’s alive...” Aubrey mumbles in disbelief.
“...You expected her to be here,” Basil states, his tone unreadable. “Not your mom.”
“Basil!” Aubrey spits. “What the hell is going on?!”
“Who are you?” he asks coldly, ignoring her question.
“What?” she replies, finally turning to face him.
It’s only now that Aubrey truly sees the boy before her. It’s Basil, that much is certain, but he looks... healthier. He’s taller and less pale, hell, she’d go as far as to say he’s got some muscle on him. A far cry from the scrawny blonde she beat up yesterday.
“You look like Aubrey. But you’re not her. You know my name, but you don’t know me, and you don’t know Polly. You’re thinner and paler, you style your hair differently, dress differently, carry yourself differently, you’re more aggressive and stand-offish. And you thought Mari was dead...” Basil rambles, confusion and frustration clear in his tone. “So, who are you? And what have you done with the real Aubrey?”
“L-Listen here, you little—” she stutters, trying and failing to resume her tough girl façade. “I am Aubrey I just—you—you're different too! And that doesn’t—this is just... God damn it... GOD DAMN IT!”
Basil takes a step back but continues to glare at her.
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!” Aubrey screams, practically begging the blonde for an answer.
...
There’s a long stretch of silence before Basil speaks up again.
“How did we meet?” he cautiously asks.
“You already know how!” she snaps back, absolutely not in the mood for his antics.
“Humour me.”
“...I saved your sorry ass from some bullies.”
“What about our friends? How did you meet them?”
“They... I lost my shoe... they came and cheered me up,” Aubrey replies, looking down at the ground. “Then I dragged you along to our next hangout.”
She continues to stare at her feet, refusing to look him in the eye.
“...What’s your name?” he asks after a minute.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.
“Urgh... it’s Aubrey Williams,” the delinquent groans.
“Your full name,” the blonde clarifies.
Aubrey groans and blushes slightly, even under such stressful circumstances, her full name is still a source of embarrassment. After grumbling some more, she eventually looks back up and glares at Basil before answering his stupid question.
“It’s... it’s Aubergine Williams,” she laments.
Basil’s stone-cold expression slowly cracks as a small grin forces its way onto his face, and before Aubrey can even comment, he’s already burst out into laughter.
“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LAUGHING RIGHT NOW?!” she roars, her face bright red.
“Hahaha—oh—hahaha—I-I'm sorry, it’s just—pfft, HAHAHA!” the blonde cackles.
“Basil, I swear to God.”
“Right! Right! I’m sorry, it’s just... you’re definitely her, alright, well, not her, but you are Aubrey,” he replies, stumbling over his words.
“Mind speaking English?” Aubrey grumbles.
“See, that’s what I mean. You are Aubrey, but you’re not my Aubrey... which I know sounds insane, but that’s the only explanation I’ve got,” he replies, sounding borderline hysterical.
“Your Aubrey? The hell is that supposed to—”
“Oh! I got it! Do you remember SpaceBoy issue one-forty-nine?” Basil asks, preventing her tirade before it even starts.
“I—yeah? The one where SpaceBoy switches places with his evil double from... from another world... oh... oh, don’t say it.”
“Mari’s dead where you’re from, right? And—and I’m guessing we’re not friends?” he asks, sounding slightly hurt.
“Yeah, she is... and no, we’re not...” she replies, avoiding eye contact.
“Well, you, the you I know, has been crashing at my house for years now, and Mari is coming home from college tomorrow so...”
“So, this... this isn’t my world,” Aubrey finishes.
The thought had crossed her mind a few times now, but it seemed so ridiculous that she refused to acknowledge it. But...
Glancing at her mother’s grave again, the morning’s events rush through her mind. Polly, the Preacher, Basil himself, they all know her, all like her. The town is the same, but the people are different.
Because this isn’t her world, it’s a world where her mom died, where her friends never abandoned her...
A world where Mari never died.
“But... how?” Aubrey asks.
“I—I don’t know,” Basil replies awkwardly. “But we can figure it out... together?” he suggests with a smile.
Her and Basil? Hanging out again, just like old times?
It’s a surprisingly tempting offer, but...
“A-Aubrey I—I can explain!” a blonde boy stutters, panic evident in his wide blue eyes.
An album lies before the young girl; the polaroids within are blacked out with crude scribbles. Countless memories tarnished by marker ink.
“Y-You...” she stutters, tears forming in her eyes.
Mari’s face, her warm, friendly smile that the girl will never see again, crossed out, ruined...
“A-Aubrey...”
Ruined by him.
“How could you? You... you f-freak.”
“Aubrey, please, I—”
“...You freak.”
“I just—”
“YOU FREAK!”
Aubrey frowns and clenches her fists. She can’t do this. She just can’t, not now, and definitely not with him. New world be damned, she knows who he really is.
“Pass.”
She’ll figure it out on her own—she doesn’t need this creep, she never has.
“Wait w-what?” Basil stutters, clearly taken off guard by her response.
“Hard pass... freak,” she says, doubling down with a deadpan expression.
The delinquent goes to leave, but Basil blocks her way.
“H-Hey now! Just hear me out!” he protests lamely.
“Move!” she threatens.
“No!” the blonde replies. “You’re not going anywhere until we figure out how to get my Aubrey back!”
Aubrey’s eye twitches at his choice of words. She hates how he says that. ‘His Aubrey', the hell does that even—wait a second. In this world, they’re still close, so close that her counterpart lives with him...
‘Oh no.’
“You keep saying your Aubrey...” the delinquent grumbles. “And I—she, lives with you... please don’t tell me that we’re...”
“What? Oh! No! No, never!” Basil stutters. “No, I promise it’s not like that at all.”
“Thank God,” Aubrey replies with a sigh of relief.
Content with his response, she shoves him aside, preparing to storm off again. But she barely takes another step forward before Basil pipes up again.
“No, you see, you’re dating Sunny,” the blonde states, a small but unmistakably smug smile plastered on his face.
Aubrey freezes in place. Basil clearly wanted her attention, and he’s certainly got it now.
...
“I’M WHAT?!”
BONUS STORY 1- Taking Care:
Polly sighs as she scoops up the last remnants of the shattered alarm clock. She fully intended to make Aubrey clean up her own mess but... The girl seemed different this morning. More tired and distant. She’s clearly trying a new fashion style and doesn’t seem very comfortable in her own skin.
That would be concerning in its own right, but then there was the nightmare.
You don’t have to be a genius to guess what Aubrey was dreaming about to react this wildly, and even if Polly hadn’t immediately figured it out, the two teens setting off for the Church would have given it away.
Polly never knew Mrs Williams.
Basil described her as an evil witch, whilst Aubrey spoke of her as more of a concept than a person, a constant presence, not very active but still hard to ignore. Their friends, however, weren’t so reflective... or PG. Polly once overheard that Mari girl describing the woman as a “deadbeat bitch” whilst that charming Rodriguez boy shockingly added that she was a “Coño”.
She scolded them both for their language of course.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead” she had said. A phrase she had to repeat on more than one occasion.
The only person who ever spoke of her in semi-positive flight was Mrs Flower. Her former patient, may she rest in peace, described Mrs Williams as a lost soul. A woman who cared once but faced one too many challenges and eventually let them consume her. Whatever happened to her, one thing was certain, she hurt her child. Polly may never know the extent of it, but the distant look in Aubrey’s eyes this morning tells her enough.
...So yeah, she doesn’t mind cleaning up a measly broken alarm clock, because the poor girl clearly needs a break, and Polly is more than happy to provide that.