Chapter Text
How long had it been over for?
Obviously, the night at the hospital broke it all apart. Blinding fluorescent lights, rubbing alcohol, and floors scrubbed a sickly white set the tone for a grim confession, one that tore at the seams of a newly rekindled alliance. Aubrey hadn't wanted to lose everything right as she regained it. But history repeats itself, and with Sunny leaving the day after the act fell, there was really nothing she could do.
She kept herself grounded with holes punched into the wall and bruised violet knuckles. All that time she spent crying and yearning, it was over a murderer. Well, it seemingly wasn't a premeditated crime. A killer, then. Even though she knew damn well she almost wound up a killer herself, it would have been retribution for her poor near-victim.
But maybe it was over from the start. When everything fell apart the first time, there was no piecing it back together. Nobody could be bothered to even visit the troubled perfectionist in her tomb, now known as the poor victim of a household crime. Nobody had bothered to bring her anything. Aubrey did both of those. She'd tried her hardest to remember how to make flower crowns, and then every October 6th, she'd crowned Mari with halos of clovers and dandelions.
It had been a week since the hospital, and skies were overcast in Faraway. Aubrey had mostly been in bed all day, occasionally getting up to call Kim. Being up here wasn't very good for recovery, with the holes in the roof and the rickety floors and her personal mirror made from reflective mirror tape over a square of wood. She had to arrange that so she didn't keep buying mirrors only to punch and wreck them days later. She needed air- air that wasn't laced with nicotine, or rot, or whatever else was in this house.
So she pulled on her old bomber jacket and descended the ladder, pulling the trapdoor shut just in case Bun-Bun managed to escape. He wasn't much of an escape artist anymore- nor did he keep continuously pissing on her bed while she was out- but she'd still rather be careful. The TV, on low volume, played something with video quality that should've been left back in '97. As usual, her mother was blacked out on the couch, leaving Aubrey to go wherever she pleased and not worry about leaving quietly.
Aubrey had never learned why her mother acted the way she did. Her father never bothered to learn, only reminding her that her mother was a piece of shit who wouldn't even notice if her daughter died. Not that he was any better, anyway. But despite all her bitterness and her rage, there was still a small part of her that loved her parents- or at least wanted to. Maybe she was still too forgiving.
"Bye, Mom," she called to the unconscious woman.
And with that, she was out the door. Two small pinwheels sat by the driveway, turning slowly in shades of cherry red and raspberry pink. She'd stuck those there last summer, when she got herself a girlfriend and wanted something to watch on nights when she needed a reminder that she was loved by somebody. Aubrey briefly considered going back inside to get an umbrella or something with a hood in case it rained, but rain wasn't a very big issue. She always dragged the rest of the Hooligans out into storms for fun.
She needed somewhere to go. Sitting on the front step didn't make for very good air, and it wouldn't help sort through her thoughts. Being at home with too many thoughts was always a terrible idea. But where would she go? Not to a friend's house- she needed to think. Not to the plaza- she didn't have any money with her. So where to?
She started down the sidewalk, boots crushing small pieces of gravel. Aubrey planned to stop by the pinwheel where she lost her shoe, just for nostalgia. This was where she met her friends, on a day where she was trying to stay out as late as possible to avoid coming home for lunch. Her father hadn't been in a very good mood that day, and little Aubrey wasn't in the mood to head to school the next day with bruises all down her arm. This was also where she met Basil, who was busy playing with a cat that came over. She'd seen him around, but hadn't said anything until then.
Even though she didn't hear from her old friends much anymore, Aubrey still loved this spot. She sat down by the pinwheel, this one in a bubblegum shade that matched the one by her house. There was a little more wind, so the pinwheel turned a little faster this time. She wasn't gonna do all her thinking here. That would end in tears or something breaking. But all she needed was a reminder that she had something once, and it was nice, and she didn't always have to look at the past with hatred.
"Meow?"
Aubrey turned to see a small black cat beside her, headbutting her hand like Bun-Bun liked to do. It was fluffy, with a bright red collar around its neck. Faraway seemed to have more stray cats than people, so it was natural to have never seen this one before. This one bore a striking resemblance to Mewo, who nobody saw again after the botched recital. It couldn't have been her, though. She snuck out lots when Mari was alive, and she always came home.
"Hey, buddy. How you doing?" Aubrey gently scratched the scruff of the cat's neck, and it purred contentedly. "You lonely out here?"
It pawed at the zipper on her jacket, and she pulled away from it. "Don't do that," she told the cat.
After a moment of silence, the cat turned and walked a couple of inches away before meowing again, as if inviting Aubrey to follow it.
Aubrey stood up, wiping dust off onto the hem of her skirt. "You want me to follow you?"
She swore she heard the cat say yes.
It trotted up the street, and Aubrey followed behind. First they came to the intersection, then to the corner of Kim and Charlie's street, then they crossed to Mikhael- err, The Maverick's street. Down they went, completely ignoring Mav's house. First, they passed a house with a blue roof and an old birdhouse. Aubrey vaguely remembered the people there as the family whose kid went to boarding school. She didn't know if the kid came back yet, although she was beginning to suspect that their daughter dyed her hair blue. Then they passed Kel's house, with no dog out in the yard. The Castillos probably brought Hector in just in case it rained. Passing the house was a little painful, but it didn't do any good to dwell on it.
The cat finally stopped in front of the house that was Sunny's, now empty and alone. Nobody had moved in yet. Perhaps people had heard of the girl who died there and refused to buy it, assuming it to be haunted. Aubrey watched the cat climb up the front step and claw at the front door, as if wanting to be let in.
"Nobody lives there, dumbass," said Aubrey.
But just then, the front door swung open, as if somebody had opened it. But there was nobody there. Had the cat opened it with its incessant clawing?
"Meow!" it exclaimed, tail swishing in front of the open door.
And then it disappeared, fading away with a dim glow.
Aubrey froze, shocked and confused. There was no way that cat just vanished. She blinked vigorously, then rubbed her eyes, then pinched herself. Maybe she was delirious from second-hand smoke. She took a couple deep breaths, but none of that worked. The cat really had disappeared, leaving Aubrey with an open door into Sunny's house. All she had was the overwhelming urge to go in. She hadn't been in there since they went out to the treehouse the day Sunny got stabbed in the eye. It wasn't the best idea, but she wasn't scared. She snuck into empty houses all the time, often in far worse condition than this one.
Pushing the door open all the way, Aubrey stepped in.
"Shit."
The overcast skies outside made for very little light, so the house was cold and empty. She'd seen the living room already, and it wasn't that bad. But there was still the rest of the house to discover. The floorboards creaked beneath her as she moved over to the dining room. It was completely empty save for the potted plant in the corner and the bookshelf. She remembered how Kel liked to hide under the table when they were all young and pretend they were in a rocketship. Eight-year-olds will do anything for entertainment.
Moving into the kitchen, it was probably the fullest room in the house. When Aubrey was young and she was always having sleepovers, Mari would always try her hand at hot chocolate or tea, made with extra sugar and extra love. Her tea was usually really good. Her cocoa usually tasted like black coffee with a little bit of whipped cream on top. You can't really be good at everything. Aubrey turned around to find a hazy, fluorescent silhouette of a cat sleeping on the counter, almost seeming to glow. Once again, she rubbed her eyes, but it was still there.
"How high am I?" she asked nobody in particular. If she was seeing things like this, it would probably be better to go home.
Then the music started.
It echoed through the house; a soft, almost romantic tune on the piano. It was almost as if somebody was in here. But she didn't know anybody else who could play the piano. For the first time in weeks, she felt... afraid. Not jittery or on edge, but genuine fear. It flooded her lungs and her stomach, and every breath felt like sucking air through a river of molasses. Slowly, bones shaking with every step, she crept into the hallway by the stairs.
Here lies the scene of the crime.
Aubrey tried to imagine what it would be like to hit the floor at the foot of the stairs, to be pierced with splinters of mahogany from the violin. It was probably a lot like hitting the driveway, with gravel poking through her skin. Having the wind knocked out of her just the same. Mari got what Aubrey wanted, and it wasn't what she wanted herself. Aubrey knew that now.
The music continued on. Carefully, Aubrey made her way to the piano room, grasping the door frame with an iron grip. She took five deep breaths to calm herself, just like Mari taught her. Then she looked in.
The regalness of the piano room was gone, replaced with dust in a room that was empty save for the grand piano. Somebody sat there at its bench, looking just like the cat on the counter. Their fingers swept across the keys, playing a clear tune at a medium volume. This piece seemed familiar.... Right. This was Elgar's Salut d'Amour, Mari had told her once. It was one of her favorites. The person playing seemed to have hair pulled back into a ponytail and a puffy dress- although it was hard to tell, what with being made of fluorescent outlines.
This wasn't real. It couldn't have been. "Get it together," Aubrey whispered to herself. Poking her head back in, she prayed the person would disappear just like the black cat- the music had finally stopped. Instead, the silhouette cat was now stretched out at the feet of the pianist, who lovingly scooped it up.
Are these... ghosts?
Aubrey believed in the supernatural, but only when looking to scare Vance and Angel. She believed that ghosts did wander, but that they couldn't be seen. So what if she was seeing those ghosts right now? The black cat, the silhouette cat- could that be Mewo?
They oughta send you to the rubber room for that one. Get your shit together, Silva.
Just then, the pianist turned to look at Aubrey. She almost screamed.
The pianist's eyes weren't like the rest of them. They had color- a deep, stormy grey, just like Mari's.
Aubrey ran.
When she was outside, she slammed the front door shut behind her and collapsed on the steps, panting. As much as she wanted to think she was stoned as hell, everything she saw and heard was too real. She probably wasn't going in there ever again. But could that really have been Mari? She didn't want to believe it, because she knew she'd only end up being let down again. Mari was in heaven, no doubt about it. She'd been put in that pretty glass coffin years ago, and everyone cried and cried, and that bastard Sunny hadn't even showed up to his own fucking sister's funeral, and he was the one who killed the bitch, and Basil cried and cried as if he didn't almost make everyone kill themselves by claiming Mari committed suicide.
Fuck, I should probably go home.
But when Aubrey looked up, she had to swallow another scream.
The ghosts were everywhere. Kids made of light played in the streets and sat on rooftops. Creatures made of ink twisted down the road and dripped from trees. Faraway was overrun, and Aubrey had to see it all. With terror taking the reins, she covered her eyes and punched herself in the thigh one-two-three-four-five times. Slowly, she uncovered her eyes, but was still too afraid to look up. Instead she leaned forward, her hands around her head, and curled into a ball of the porch, praying they would go away.
She'd have to deal with this for a while, but she didn't know yet.
"Kel, what are you doing?" Mrs. Castillo asked while setting the table for dinner. Her son had his face against the window, watching something intently.
Kel was taught time and time again not to pry into people's business. But when he saw Aubrey haul ass out of Sunny's house and cower in a ball on his porch, he couldn't help but want to know what the hell happened. What had scared the fearless delinquent so badly?
But as much as he wanted to go out there and say something, he knew she'd probably punch him and cuss him out and leave. He'd done a lot of thinking ever since Sunny left, which wasn't like him. He wasn't sure what to do. The accident was a pretty big part, but no amount of apologizing can bring a dead girl back to life. It didn't help that Aubrey refused to come around like she promised to. It was like the weeks after Mari died all over again, where no one talked to anyone and they all probably thought Kel still didn't care about her. At least Hero hadn't fallen apart again.
"Kel," said Hero, "aren't you gonna help set the table?"
"Why don't you do it yourself, jackass?" Kel snapped.
Mrs. Castillo slammed a plate down on the dining room table. "Kelsey!"
"Sorry...."
He's a grown man. It's not that big a deal.
Outside, Aubrey stood up, gripping the bottom of her jacket. Inside, Kel let the curtains fall closed. Aubrey hadn't seen him looking, but now that she was up, it wouldn't be good to tempt fate. He'd get his ass kicked the next time they saw each other.
Aubrey.... Will you ever let me talk to you?
Maybe another time.