Slowly, you open your eyes. You are at the hospital, wearing your gown and your bandages. Exactly as you were when you went to sleep. It felt so, so pleasant to be able to say "Everything is going to be okay", and to know with absolutely certainty that it is true. Once again, relief and calmness flow through you. Though, you are curious, what exactly woke you up? You hear a light knock on your door, light enough that it seems like the person on the other side is very nervous. "Come in," you say, and the door opens.

It's Basil. His face is covered in bandages, and he's wearing a hospital gown, but that's him alright.

Your mind can't help but go back to your arrival here. You remember that day so clearly, walking over to his room, despite your wounds, shoving aside the risk of them reopening, walking over to his bed, where your friends surrounded him, though your knees wished so dearly to collapse, you stood strong and without expression, saying "I have to tell you something."

And, well, you did. Every word that came out of your mouth was painful, but as soon as you said that first sentence, there was a momentum to it. Though it hurt, you could not stop, no matter how much you wanted to. A good thing, too, as you absolutely shouldn't've stopped. You have many regrets in your life, but telling the truth is not at all one of them.

You recall the silence that followed. It was impossible for you to have given everything in full detail, all you could coherently say was the outline of events: your ceaseless practicing, your frustration at your incompetence, the broken violin, the shouting, then, the sound of flesh cracking into wood with a thud. A desperate attempt to rescue, but no use, and then the scornful idea whispered into your ear. Then, it was done. All in all, your explanation probably took no less than a minute, though of course it felt much longer, as did the silence that followed.

You recall it so well. Their faces, their pained expressions. First shock, they looked back to Basil for confirmation. Perhaps you had lost so much blood you were delirious. No, not at all. Basil was covering his face with his hands. You thought if you could see his face, you would see betrayal. He had trusted you to keep this secret until you died, and you had just spilled all of it. He seemed utterly destroyed, so fearful of what he knew was going to happen next. All he could mutter was "He's telling the truth." The emotion with which he said that was inscrutable.

Then, devastation struck. With the confirmation that what you said was true, their minds had to actually begin processing it, working through the consequences your lie had had. All that time they had spent confused, wondering why... why Mari would do such a thing. It was so simple, wasn't it? The reason why it made no sense was because it wasn't true. They had spent years suffering, laboring under a false premise. Kel thought he had failed her. Aubrey thought she had failed her. Hero, by God, Hero thought he had failed her.

But, they didn't. They had not failed to see the warning signs of her depression. They had always thought to themselves, "if only I had loved Mari more, if only I had shown her more kindness, she might not have done it", but as the truth left your mouth, they realized that they had loved her enough. They had shown her all the kindness and care they could muster. They always had. It wasn't their fault.

It was yours. You saw a spark of anger on the faces of your friends, empty, heartbroken anger, anger from betrayal, as it suddenly hit them that their years of suffering had been for nothing. No, more than that, that those years of suffering were your fault, and if only you had told the truth sooner, that suffering would have been lessened. You had held the power to alleviate that suffering for years, and yet you did not. You kept it going. They wondered to themselves why. Why would you, their dear friend, be so cruel?

Of course, it was yet the same answer to yet another impossible-to-answer question. You didn't. You weren't trying to be cruel. As their faces showed anger, your face instinctually cringed away. You knew what was coming. Tears began to roll down your face, and you braced yourself in anticipation for the force of Kel's basketball, of Aubrey's bat, of Hero's fists. In that moment, their burgeoning anger suddenly became nothing. The logical part of their minds which were furious at you for letting them suffer gave way to their emotional parts. Their friend Sunny was standing in front of them, crying. Not a single one of them could bring themselves to be angry at you, to scold you for having done such a horrible thing, for not having told them sooner, for making them suffer. They certainly couldn't bring themselves to be violent towards you. Not while you were crying. Not while Basil, covering his face, seemed to be crying too. Instead, they stood silently, tears falling down their own faces, unable to be angry, but unable to be happy or relieved either. They couldn't bare to see you alone, though.

Kel ran up and hugged you. Of course, then the waterworks really started. His arms wrapped around you so tightly, so warmly. It was as though he was afraid that if he relaxed his arms even slightly, you would fly out of his reach. Kel opened his mouth, and a sound like the beginning of a word came out. Again, he opened his mouth, and a sound came out. There was a deep need to say something, to communicate through words, but his brain couldn't muster it. He stuttered fragments of syllables at you, gradually building up to words: "I", "you", "Sunny"...

Hearing your name said so emotionally was all it took to cause you to fully crumple to your knees. Kel fell down with you. He pulled out of the hug, looking at you. He could see you stare back at him with the most destroyed, defenseless expression. Your whole face was trembling.

Kel took a breath, and managed to form the first sentence out of everyone in the room, "Thanks, Sunny."

You almost felt as though you were dreaming again. Surely, this could not be how things were actually going.

"Thank you for telling us," he continued, each word clearly taking effort, clearly causing pain, "You... you seem like... like that was hard, for you. I... I can't even imagine..."

Kel looked over to Basil. "For... both of you..."

Basil, like a cornered animal, slowly lowered his hands. "Y-you... you're not... mad? It... it was my idea! You... you should all... be mad at me... it... was my idea..."

They were mad. Lord almighty, were they mad, but their anger wasn't directed at Sunny or Basil. It wasn't directed at anyone at all. They were just mad.

Aubrey looked at you, having put another piece together, "The photos. You... either you or Basil, one of you blacked them out... I never understood, I thought you were being crazy, but I..."

Her words were said between sniffles and grunts of pain.

"You... you only blacked out the ones with Mari's face... you... you felt so guilty... I..."

Your words replayed in her memory. She imagined Mari's body at the bottom of the stairs, she imagined you running down to her, bringing her to your room in hope that she would wake up. She felt as though she was going to vomit. She could only assume that was how you felt, too. She could imagine Basil, looking at you in that state, absolutely broken to pieces, offering you the only solution he could possibly come up with.

"Basil," Aubrey said, causing him to instinctually reel back from all the bullying she had inflicted onto him, "You... almost died. At the secret spot, when I pushed you. I didn't mean to do that. It was an accident."

Every bone in her body looked as though it was a moment away from shattering. Even Basil, in all his fear, could see where Aubrey was going with this.

"I'm... I'm so glad... that what happened to Mari... didn't happen to you, too... I... I could've been like Sunny... I could've... murdered... one of the most important people in my life..."

Her voice had completely broken down, quivering up and down as though she was once again nothing more than the little girl in Head Space. The idea that Aubrey was not only not mad at Basil, but was crying in gratitude for the fact that he was alive... it was an odd sight for him.

"...I know," she struggled so hard to speak, "That... if you had drowned... if you had died, there... my friends... they would've known it was an accident. They would've said... that you had just tripped. To... protect... me..."

Hero managed to speak, too. "All... all this time. I thought I didn't love her enough. I thought I did something wrong. I thought that I had killed her. I thought it was my fault. I felt horrible about that, I felt so guilty, I stayed inside all the time and I could barely get out of bed."

He looked up, glancing to Basil, then back to you

"That's how you two felt, isn't it? The exact same way..."

He wiped his tears, the memories of those times coming back to him in horrible detail.

"I wouldn't wish that kind of suffering on anyone. That's horrible. I felt so, so horrible. Of course you didn't tell the truth sooner. You couldn't even bear to leave your house, much less... confess to this. How... how didn't I notice that that's what was happening? How didn't I notice that you... you weren't just grieving... you were feeling guilty... why didn't I notice when that's literally the exact thing that happened to me?! I lost my girlfriend to what I thought was a suicide, and I hated myself for not seeing the signs sooner, and then I fucked it up again by not seeing either of your signs, either. God, I... I'm so stupid."

He looked over to Basil, who reeled back as though Hero had pointed a gun at him.

"How the hell did you know how to tie a noose?!" he yelled, "Did I really miss your signs, too, that early on?! You were 12! There's... there's no reason for you to know that, other than..."

Thoughts of Basil's absent parents entered his mind. He remembered times when kids at school would laugh at Basil, call him names, call him slurs. Times when they would urge Basil to kill himself. He felt as though he was going to be sick from it all. He groaned. The stress of Mari's death, the stress of his adult life, the stress of nothing more than just last night, the second longest night of his life, having to take you and Basil to the hospital, and now, this... it was too much. He let out a small scream in anger. You were still crying. Kel was still crying, Aubrey was still crying, Hero was still crying, and you assumed Basil was still crying.

"COME HERE YOU LITTLE SHITS," Hero picked you and Kel up, shoving the two of you and Aubrey towards Basil's bed. You were pushed into as a much of a group hug as was possible with a bedridden person. It was fast, rough, and violent, but it was also loving. Hero couldn't help but laugh, just a bit, perhaps realizing how stupid what he had just said was, how stupid he had been, how stupid you and Basil had been, how stupid Aubrey had been, really, he just mused on how stupid everyone was. A big, crying bunch of idiots hugging each other. What a lovely band of people to call his friends.

The hug ended. Hero let out another stressed scream. He wasn't angry, he was just filled with a lot of emotions.

"I... I'm gonna go take... a walk..." he said, "I... yeah."

He left. Kel, acting on his brotherly impulse, silently followed after. Aubrey stared at you as you stood above Basil's bed. There was something exchanged between the two of you as your eyes met. Aubrey's expression wasn't quite clear. At the very least, she didn't seem to be mad at you. That much was reassuring. She left the room, too, suddenly turning her face away from you, as though she couldn't bare to look at you anymore. You were left alone.

Well, not quite alone. Basil was there. Your best friend. The person who you had suffered with for so long. You stared at each other, tears still falling, as the two of your smiled, and your guilt faded away. Everything was okay.

Now, Basil stood over your bed. He smiled at you, and you returned it. It was so nice to see him. All that cheerfulness, the light that he shined into every room he walked into... you thought that you had lost it. He did too. But it was here, and here to stay. Basil had often given fake smiles, but you knew that wasn't what this was.

"Hey... Sunny," he walked over to you, "How are you?"

You shift your weight around in your bed, still groggy from sleep. "I'm fine," you reply simply.

"Good," he says, "That's really great, Sunny. I'm... I'm so glad you've healed so well. I-I mean, I know... your eye won't ever work again—"

"Basil," you cut him off with a caring tone to your voice, "You've already apologized for that. You've already apologized, like, a couple dozen times. It's fine. I forgive you."

He laughs. "Yeah, I know. It's just... hard to accept that everyone is so... understanding. It feels too good to be true."

You nod in agreement. "Well... I always knew that no matter how they felt, we'd have each other."

That seems to have touched him.

"I..." he frowns, "You're leaving, though. You're getting discharged tomorrow, you're... moving... tomorrow."

"I have a cell phone, you know," you say, "I'll still be able to talk to you. I'm not really going anywhere, Basil."

"Yeah... I... I'm so happy about that," he says, "I don't know what I'd do if I had lost you. You're my best friend, Sunny. You'll... you'll call me, right?"

You nod reassuringly. "Yeah."

"A-and... you'll come to visit sometime, right?"

You nod again. "Yeah."

"O-okay. Maybe I can visit you t-too." He seems as though there is something he wants to say. You had been giving him these reassurances every day since you got here. You didn't mind. You knew how much his mind played tricks on him, making him think you were going to leave him. You had left him for quite a while, but no more of that.

"Hey, Basil," you say, and his eyes light up, "Since... since it's my last day here... do you wanna... do... something?"

He seems shocked and confused. "D-do... what?"

You shrug. "I dunno, maybe we could sneak out of here and go eat some real food. I'm getting sick of the stuff here."

"S-Sunny!" he replies in a panic, "W-we can't just do that! We'll get caught!"

You laugh. You weren't actually planning on leaving, you just like seeing his flustered reactions.

"Alright, how about we just go sit in the lounge, maybe watch a movie," you say, "We're not technically not supposed to be out of our beds right now, but... I mean, I'm leaving. What are they going to do, kick me out?"

Basil laughs cutely. "Alright, sure, we can do that."

He extends his hand, and you take it, getting up, stretching your arms, and walking outside of your room, being careful not to alert any of the hospital staff. You blush slightly from touching his hand. It's an odd thing to say, but you've always liked how his hands feel. A lifetime of taking care of plants has left them calloused, strong, sturdy. When he grasps your hand, it feels like nothing in the world could take him away from you. Though his grip is gentle like his personality, it is also persistent.

The hospital has an odd feeling at night. Not creepy, just... odd. Like Grey Space, it has the aura of a place which has undergone great change. A place constantly in motion, constantly in flux. People coming at leaving, some coming and never leaving at all. Speaking of leaving, you have a question to ask Basil.

"When are you getting discharged?" you ask.

"Probably tomorrow or the day after," he says, "The doctors say everything's mostly healed. So, I guess we're both doing pretty alright."

It was good to see him getting out of here, too. As you were talking to him these past few days, you noticed a great shift in his personality, one which occurred rapidly. The same happened to you, too. You hadn't thought such a thing was possible, but, well, a lot had happened in a very short time. It only makes sense, then, that a lot would change in a short time, too. Your vocal chords began to readjust to speaking, Basil began to look at you with a smile, rather than with fear. Basil's change of character made you feel good, and it made other people feel good, too. Shortly after your arrival, Polly came to visit. You could tell, just from the way she spoke, that these events had effected her, too.

You recall that it was Hero who took the duty of relaying the truth to everyone else who needed to know. He told your mom, first, who immediately demanded to speak with you. The conversation that followed was... well, it was about as heavy as your first confession. Then, Hero told Polly, and then, well... from then on, you began to have an inkling of worry. You were very happy that you told them the truth, you just hoped word of it never reached the police. You never liked them much, anyways.

You knew, though, that even if they did find out, things would probably be fine. If charges were pressed, you would stand in court, confidently, knowing that your friends would be there in support of you. If you got sent to jail, it would be no trouble. They would visit you. In earlier times you would've called such self assurances silly, but now, knowing that your friends managed to forgive you for your sin, you're certain that they will stick with you through anything. After all, if that didn't break them, what would?

It's feels good, being protected. It's good to have your friends once again, and to have Basil stand next to you. You always knew that after your confession, no matter what, you would have him. You could deal with your suffering together, bond over it, overcome it. You wouldn't be alone. The whole world could leave you, but not Basil. Basil would always be there. He was your best friend.

"S-Sunny?" he stammered. You hadn't realized you had been staring at him.

"Oh," you mutter, "Sorry, just... thinking."

You reach the lounge. A small, communal area for all the patients, with a huge television and a Wii with Mario Kart in it. Playing video games was just slightly tougher with only one eye, but you managed. You're much too tired to play a video game right now, though. The two of you sit down next to each other and play a movie: Spider-Man 3, with Tobey Maguire. It doesn't really matter much to you which movie you put on, it's mostly just an excuse to spend your last night here with Basil. He seems to be enjoying himself, though there's again the sense that there's something he wanted to say. Eventually, it appears as though he can't hold it in anymore. He pauses the movie.

"I..." he stumbles through his words, "Sorry, this is stupid. I wanted to give you a gift tomorrow, because you're leaving, but I... I don't know if I'll be awake that early, and I don't want you to not get it, so..."

You nod, silently telling him he has nothing to apologize for. He takes a deep breath.

"H-Here!" he says, "This... this is for you."

You hadn't noticed in your sleepiness, but he had been carrying something with him. A potted plant... what plant was it, exactly?

"I... I just though..." he says, "R-remember when we were kids, a-and I grew flowers for everyone and it was supposed to be like it matched their personalities?"

You look more carefully at the shape of the flower.

"...A white tulip," you say.

"Yeah!" he exclaims, happily, "I remember comparing them to you... not too flashy, not too flamboyant. Simple, modest, but still beautiful."

You smile with a slight blush, taking the plant into your hands.

"I-I mean, the plant," he says, "The plant is beautiful."

You nod to indicate that you know what he means.

"I really appreciate this, Basil," you say, "I like this one, too."

Basil giggles. He's clearly very pleased that you enjoy his gift.

"I remember..." you take a moment to think, "You compared yourself to a sunflower, right? Always facing the sun, always looking on the bright side."

"Yeah..." he sighs, "I guess back then, that's how I was."

"You're like that now," you say, "At least, I think so. You're still alive, so... some part of you must still have that old optimism."

"Maybe," he says, "I... honestly, I'm still having trouble adjusting, you know? I spent so long worrying and worrying, constantly hating myself, constantly faking a smile, hiding my secrets and hiding away from the world..."

You nod again, to say that everything is okay.

"...Honestly," he says, "Now that all of that is over, I'm not really sure... what to do?"

He laughs. "It sounds horrible, but really, I've been depressed for so long, I don't really know what to do with myself. What do normal, non-depressed people do? Go get smoothies, or something?"

"Sure," you smirk, remembering Omori, "Smoothies."

You take a moment, still admiring the plant, still admiring Basil.

"...I'm in a similar situation," you say, "I think the future is going to be really confusing for us. But, just because it's confusing doesn't mean it's... bad. We've got each other's backs, just like we always do, and we always will. We're best friends, right?"

Basil's face flushes with color and emotion. Again, he seems to wish to say something.

"H-hey, Sunny," he says, "Can I... ask you a... personal question?"

You smirk, trying to hold back laughter. "What could you ask me that would be more personal than what I've already told everyone?"

"I..." he stammers, "Umm... do you... like... g..."

He tries to collect his words.

"You know how... Aubrey and Kim are... really close?" he says, "Like, really, really close?"

You nod.

"A-and, like... you were in the church with her that one time, you heard everyone gossiping about her, right?"

You nod, still unsure where he's going with this.

"Did you... hear anything about... that?"

You tilt your head, confused.

"I... okay, so, I... think that maybe... Aubrey and Kim are... more than friends," he says, "L-like, how boys and girls fall in love, like that, but they're both girls."

You nod again. "What does that have to do with me, though?"

Now, his face flushes even redder. "I-I mean... I just wanted to ask, since, I mean, I didn't even know... that... was a thing that people could do, I just wanted to ask all my friends if... if anyone else is... like that. If you're like that."

"Yeah," you say, "I like girls."

Basil covers his face with his hands. "That's not what I meant, Sunny."

"Oh," you say, "You mean like if I like boys, right?"

"Yeah!" he says, "I'm just... wondering. I don't want Aubrey to be alone in that, I-I think she could use some company from someone who's... like her."

For someone who kept a huge secret for so long, Basil is certainly bad at lying right now.

"Yeah," you say. You stare down at the tulip, your heart touched by Basil's gesture, your neutral face giving way to an endeared expression. You look back to Basil in the same way. "I mean, I like one boy."

His eyes widen. He's as red as a tomato. You see emotions cross his face, first shock, then giving way to concern and nervousness.

"W-wait wait wait wait," he says, "Y-you don't mean me, do you? Sorry, that's dumb, I shouldn't assume—"

"Yeah," you say, "It's you. Who else would it be?"

Basil reels back even more, barely managing to maintain any semblance of composure.

"B-but... wait..." he thinks, he can't seem to accept it, "W-why though?"

You ponder for a moment.

"Well, you've been my best friend for as long as I can remember," you say, "You've been with me through everything, even the roughest parts. You're sweet, kind, caring, you try to help everyone around you and make them feel good, as best as you can. You make me feel happy every time I see you."

"N... no!" he says defensively, "T-that isn't true at all! You... you can't..."

"I can," you say, "I think it'd be nice for us to get closer."

"B-but... I'm so..." he says, "I'm so obsessive. I get attached too easily. You wouldn't want me."

You take a moment to really reflect on that. It's true, Basil has some... unhealthy tendencies.

"I'll let you know if you do anything to make me uncomfortable," you say, "You definitely have problems, but so do I. We can work on them. We can... I dunno, get therapy and stuff. I think we'll move past it quicker if we do it together."

"T-together?" he says, suddenly realizing the weight of the conversation, the weight of the fact that you returned his feelings, "You... you want to date me? You're in love with me? After... everything that I did... after I ruined your life... betrayed our friends... you actually love me?"

You nod.

He stares at you in shock, still taking everything in. It's a much lesser confession that the "something" you had to tell everyone, but still, there's that same shock. Then Basil smiles, and laughs.

"You must be stupid," he says.

"I've been told," you reply, "I don't really care, though. I'm fine with being a bit dumb."

You look at him, realizing that tonight is the last night you'll be spending together in the same room, at least until you come back to visit. You act quickly, before he can flinch away, and before your mind can second-guess itself. You kiss him on the cheek. His skin is soft.

"I..." he barely manages to say. He stumbles through his words, letting out fractions of syllables, bits of words, until finally he gives up on trying to say anything, and collapses into you, giving you a tight hug. He's laughing, crying a little, though you can't see his face. You lean your head onto his, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body, feeling the world around you fade as he becomes all that matters to you in this moment.

"Good night, Basil." you say. You hear the beckoning of sleep, the beckoning of Grey Space. You let it embrace you. It is not to be feared. Everything is okay.