This one deals with many heavy topics. If you'd like a comprehensive list of trigger warnings, please see the note at the bottom of the chapter before you read. This takes place in the future, post-game true ending, when the characters are well into their late 20s and early 30s. There will be flashbacks to their past. If you read this and at any point feel like it is too much for you, please take a break or join us for the next chapter, which will hopefully be a lighter one.

One of the reasons I love this pairing so much is the hopefulness and growth they represent amongst each other, and the message the game gives out at the end. Omocat tweeted out in her personal account that she had a playlist while creating Omori, with lots of the songs being from Vocaloid. And as an avid Vocaloid fan for 10+ years, I *had* to include one in here.

Song: You're a Worthless Child - Kikuo ft Miku Hatsune

You are a worthless, worthless worthless child

The most worthless child in the whole world.

The empty house sat quiet. I sat by the piano, lost in the thoughts of the days prior.

Exactly three days ago, around 1 AM, I received a text message from a random number. I was still up at that point of the night, trying to cram in my lesson plans for the week ahead and referencing my syllabus for the music course. I ignored the buzzing from my phone before it began to buzz in succession, once, twice, over and over.

I flipped the screen up and peered from above. Who was messaging me so late at night?

The message was from Mom. I had blocked her number years ago and this was one of her many attempts at trying to reach contact with me.

She was requesting to see the kids. Pleading that it was her right as a grandmother, how dare I strip that right away from her, after everything I had done–

Goosebumps lined up my arms as I recalled that night. As Basil and I told each other over and over again, nothing good happens after 2 AM. I wasn't going to try to stick around and see if I could block out the message long enough to finish my tasks. I took a sleeping pill and headed to bed, joining my husband and trying not to stir him as I slipped under the covers. This was all something future Sunny could deal with later.

But now the sun had risen again, and here I was with the same thoughts.

Here I was three days later, senselessly staring at the piano in front of me, tracing the word "Omori" again and again.

Had it been wrong of me to cut off contact from my parents? Basil and I contemplated that question over and over after we married, and even more after we followed through as we began to search for a surrogate and planned out our next life steps together.

I wondered how she had even learned the news that we had just greeted our second child into the world just six months prior. They were all blocked from our social media accounts and Basil had very limited contact with his own parents. They had refused to acknowledge our marriage and never responded back to our invitation. But once Basil let their secretary know that we had our first arriving soon ("It's only right that they know, at least that they exist," Basil had told me.), they sent gifts to our doorstep. Everything was still distanced, but at least there was the acknowledgement.

I lifted my hand off the word from the piano. Maybe they had bumped into one of our friends. Or their parents. Aubrey, Kel, and Hero all knew we had a strained relationship with our parents, but never to the full extent.

Either way, now Mom knew that I had kids, and I assumed she wasn't going to stop pestering me until I allowed her to visit.

This was one of the reasons I had cut off complete contact with the two. With Dad, it had been much easier. His weekly calls turned to monthly calls, turned to once every other holiday, and once I was in college we sent each other short, impersonal emails. I switched onto a different email address for classes and never bothered to update him.

With Mom, I knew I didn't want her influence reaching over our kids. I had brought up my fear of having children with our couple's therapist and she had supplied us with an assortment of books to read about the topic. Basil was insistent that we didn't need to have any if I wasn't comfortable with the idea, but I couldn't let go of this nagging feeling that I did want to have offspring, but I was afraid of something connected to the idea. Months into therapy and much reading later, we had a breakthrough and concluded that we were afraid of inflicting the same pain we experienced onto our children.

You're useless at studies, exercising and speaking

You're a poor, lazy, dirty child.

I fell in-love with that leaking sobbing mouth

That can't even say his own name.

The house was never the same after that fall evening when Mari passed away. Basil and I were never the same, and neither were Mom and Dad.

We were just three human beings trying to do best with the cards we had been dealt with, but also products of our own upbringing. Dad began to piece together the shoddy work of the ropework and the marks left on the ground by the stairs and left as quickly as he could. It was almost like the days leading up to their separation, my body physically disappeared from his view. He would refuse to speak to me or look my way. He was out by the end of the week.

And Mom, she was terrified of losing her only child left.

"I lost Mari, I can't lose you too."

So, she allowed me to shut myself in my room for all those years. She pulled me from the public school system and had me listed for "alternative learning from home." But just as I skipped on the last days of school until winter break, I didn't bother to log onto my coursework or turn in any assignments. And Mom didn't check, deleting any alerts she received by email about my lack of effort and concerns from teachers. She just told me to work enough so the state wouldn't come knocking on our door and asking more questions.

It felt strange, this removed, isolating version of her care versus what I had when Mari and I were younger. In my sleep, images of our last family picture were stained behind my eyes. I was the one who did this. I caused all of this. And nothing, nothing could bring it all back.

Reality was too bitter, so I coped in other ways.

Mom had her own coping mechanisms too and who was I to nitpick or criticize hers? I learned to make my footsteps even quieter, to navigate the kitchen without a sound, opening drawers and closing cupboards silently on mornings where she slept in after a night of drinking. The drinking would cycle, it was never a permanent, continuous thing. One day she'd be my smiling mother just like all those years ago, the mother whose voice yelled out for me to join her for a hot dinner she had just cooked us up. The mother who folded up my clothes with care and left little notes on my bathroom mirror for me to see once I finally got the strength to get out of bed. But that never lasted too long. I learned that shriveling myself in the confines of my room was best most days, whether she was in a good mood or not. Because if she wasn't, and I was in her line of fire, I paid dearly for it with her stinging words.

The snot, drool, dandruff fucking shit and piss

Full of germs, cry-baby, sissy–

Come here, I'll protect you, together, together

Together with me.

It was like she morphed into something else when she was intoxicated. That wasn't Mom, the lady with alcohol dripping from her breath at noon. That wasn't Mom, the slumped body on the dinner table the next morning after a night of drinking away her thoughts. And that certainly wasn't Mom, standing over my bed at night and whispering about how she wished I was the one who had–

And so it was a dance. She'd stash away the bottles, clean up the mess from the week before, and go back to her affectionate side. Was it foolish of me to yearn for this side of her, knowing she would just soon disappear? Maybe it was a lot more complex than thinking that one side was her "true" side and the other was the pain I had brought to our family. Maybe this dark thing had been hiding in her all along.

Let's sing a duet as if we're sleeping

Try with me, try with me, try (and sing it with me)

You lonely lonely child.

After the confession at the hospital, Basil and I kept in touch. Perhaps part of the reason why I chose to reveal the truth was because I had been dealing with hell at home for years by that point and figured it couldn't get much worse.

But Basil surprised me. Our conversation was mainly online for the first year, with me moving away and both of us still recovering and dealing with the repercussions from that night. He was the first one I opened up to about how the years after Mari's death had been like. I apologized to him repeatedly for leaving him alone, not wanting to use any of my past as an excuse, of course. He had dealt with his own share of trauma and family issues. His grandmother had passed away and he was now in the care of his caregiver, Polly, until he was of legal age to decide what he wanted to do next.

Over the course of the next years, we served as support for each other, both in our emotional and social struggles, and on getting a hold of making the first steps towards building an independent life for ourselves. Basil was the first to get a driver's license (I'm still not entirely comfortable with driving and finally got one around 25, but the card sits mainly in my wallet. Intrusive thoughts are still a thing I deal with, with or without medication). I obtained my GED rather quickly, even despite skipping many courses previously, and helped Basil with his. As we neared 18, we began talking to each other about what kind of life we wanted next for ourselves.

The sad thing about that horrid autumn day in my backyard is… the world keeps turning. Days kept coming. We grew older. But now, we were starting to actually feel like although we couldn't change the past, we could still form what we wanted for our futures.

We made up a plan to move out together. We both found full-time jobs and began to save up. 18 had come and gone, and the process was much more difficult than we figured, but that was a goal we were both looking forward to. Neither one of us wanted to stay home.

You are a worthless, worthless, worthless child

You would be dead if it was not for me.

And living off campus rather than in a dorm proved as much cheaper than the alternative. After we got accepted to our first apartment, a modest two bedroom one bathroom, Basil began to express that he wanted even more independence from his parents. They had begun to try to offer their love through money, offering to cover Basil's tuition, but with a caveat. It had to be a university of their choosing, Basil needed to maintain above a certain GPA, and he needed to study under one of their agreed degrees.

I remembered the week he phoned Polly every night, asking her opinion over the matter and going through every possible situation with her. The problem was, Basil wasn't sure if he could meet their rigorous conditions. He knew he would stress himself out like crazy trying to always hit above a certain grade and his passions were not approved by his parents. And possibly what was most stinging of all was that they never even communicated with him by call, much less face to face. It was still always through another person, always impersonal, like he was an afterthought.

In the end, Basil decided to apply to the same university as me. It was closer, cheaper, and with his current job and federal grants and aid, he could manage to pay it off eventually. He wouldn't be indebted to his parents.

There was no backlash from his parents at his decision. Just a cold, lingering disappointment. And the night Basil graduated, it was his chosen family that pulled him into a big hug, celebrating the end of the night with a small party back at our apartment. Aubrey brought along her girlfriend, Kim, and Hero, Bowen, and Kel drove over slightly earlier to pick up the ordered food for the night. I was still continuing my studies for a while longer, wondering what I wanted to do with my music degree. I bought the blonde a large bouquet of daisies, remembering how Basil said they stuck around for longer and were given for accomplishments.

As that night continued, some drinks were passed around (I abstained) and the conversation got back to me and Sunny living together, how that was something the group had never imagined would happen.

"So, is this place a one bedroom?" Aubrey asked, placing her wine cooler down on the coffee table.

Basil instinctively reached for a coaster to slide under her drink, stuttering with a blush. "W-What? No, this is a two bedroom apartment. Sunny has one room and I have the other."

"So ya'll don't fuck?"

Kim slapped her girlfriend's back, yelling at Aubrey for the crude remark while Hero shook his head. "What! We were all thinking of it!"

I blushed deeply, looking over at Basil for his reaction. He looked at me uneasily, shifting on the cushion by the coffee table.

"Guys, ignore her," Hero said, trying to cover for his friend. "You don't need to tell us about your relationship. At least, not until you're ready."

Kel sat up, pulling the bowl of chips and salsa closer to himself. "Yeah, but if this ever does happen, which *I* hope it does, let us know first!"

Oh my god. My own friends probably knew about our feelings for each other before we did. I just nodded, watching as the blonde beside me grew closer and closer to resembling a tomato.

"W-Well, we–"

Dear god, no. Don't tell them–

"We have done it, a couple times," Basil whispered and the room exploded into gasps and cheers.

"I knew it!" Aubrey yelled, jumping up and dancing. "I knew it! You suckers owe me 20 bucks!"

"Whaaat? That's crazy!"

"Wow guys, I'm so happy for you!" Hero cheered with a red face. "I know you two would make a great couple."

Kel groaned and forked over a fresh bill to Aubrey before smiling and reaching over to pull us into a hug. "Two bros, sitting in a hot tub, NOT five feet apart because they ARE gay-!"

"Oh my god Kel, you can't just reference outdated memes and switch it up like that!"

"I totally can, watch me!"

"She's right, Kel. That was pretty cringe, and I send Aubrey some pretty cringy memes."

The crazy thing was, at that point, Basil and I hadn't yet put a label on our relationship. Things had just escalated over the years and once we lived together, they naturally progressed. We had been too afraid to bring it up to the other in fear of scaring the other off.

Basil looked up at me from his spot, mouthing a "sorry" and laughing slightly. I smiled back and reached for his hand, holding it softly.

You are a worthless, worthless, worthless child

A sad, sad washout good-for-nothing.

We never officially broke the news to our individual parents. At that point, I was still in contact with Mom and tried to visit her during the holidays whenever she'd guilt trip me into coming over, saying she had nobody left to come spend the day with. One day, I brought over Basil with me. She knew we were friends again and living together, but when she opened the door to the two of us holding hands, she dropped her casserole and clasped her hands over her mouth.

"You two? Really?"

I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. Mom was actually quite welcoming. She ushered us in and asked for all the details. She had cheesy decorations up and music already going, and thank goodness the casserole she was holding had a tight lid on it, so the food inside was just tossed around. I heaved a sigh of relief at the clean home, relieved that she was in a good mood so Basil wouldn't need to see the other side of her.

We spent that Thanksgiving well and stayed until late that night, driving back home at midnight and in high spirits. It almost made me want to think that she could change for the better. Sometimes hope clouds our minds.

Basil's parents took it differently. We received a letter in the mail one day, the day before Valentine's Day the next year. Color drained from his face as he read its contents. I was making us dinner, slicing up an onion when I heard the thud as he collapsed onto the ground.

Monster, ghost, invisible human

A vase, a urinal, being truant

With a dry mouth, under your breath

You utter slander

Let's listen to the monotone squeal—

Yet months and days pass and pass...

Basil held the letter tight in his hand, refusing to let me see even as he struggled to catch a breath. I had turned off the oven and dropped everything, huddling by the door with him and trying to ask him what had happened. He just kept shaking his head, saying he couldn't breathe, that he wanted to die, that he just wanted the pain to end, how unlovable he was…

I stayed with him through the night during this attack. I soothed his back and reminded him of our breathing techniques, asked him to count out his five senses around the room, and brought him a small sour candy to suck on. Later, once he was able to walk, I prepared a cold shower for him and stayed in the bathroom as he stood under the stream, collecting his heart to a still.

I heard the tap close and Basil sit down on the tub. The shower curtain was sheer and I could make out that he held his knees up to his chest to allow him to breathe.

"They called me a disgrace," Basil whispered, lips dry. "Said a son of theirs could never be an abomination like that. T-They told me to turn away from the sin and seek better therapy. That I'm just confused."

You're a child with not enough time nor brains

Now it's too late, you're mentally different.

After that, we limited contact with his parents. After an even bigger fight with Mom when I told her I wasn't moving back after graduating, I began the steps of cutting off contact as well.

Still though, that indifferent child

Fled away from my side

Before I knew it that child was covered in scars.

And yet that child left me…

I sat with my thoughts for a while. That was all they were, thoughts. My therapist once told me that it could help to imagine my thoughts as passing cars. Each thought that entered my mind didn't need to take up space forever. I just let it pass. And I watch the other pass. And the next.'

After a few minutes, I take in a deep guided breath and let it out slowly. Just thoughts.

My phone buzzed somewhere soft behind me, causing me to turn around and glance at the screen before it darkened. I didn't check the notification, but the time reminded me of who would be home soon.

I stood from the piano bench and pushed it back in, saying a silent "thank you" to Mari as I always did once I finished playing the piano. I knew she would be proud of the progress I had made and the steps I had taken over the years. The cycle of generational trauma would end here. Basil and I would do everything we could in our power to make sure of it. We couldn't be perfect parents, no, but we could be the people that we needed when we were younger.

Just then, the room became illuminated as the front door opened and a cacophony of noise reached my ears.

"Daddy!" yelled Mary, running with her arms stretched out towards me and nearly knocking me where I stood.

"We're back!" Basil greeted from the door, locking it behind himself and stepping into view from the entryway with the car seat in hand. He smiled at me, a tired look in his eyes from a day spent with Mary and picking up Daisy from care. Daisy rested soundlessly in her carrier, holding on tight to one of my old plush dolls.

"Welcome home," I smiled, picking up Mary and walking toward him to give him a soft kiss on the lips. His smile spread even wider, the same old blush fanning through his cheeks. I nuzzled his cheek as Mary cheered and hugged her other dad as well.

"Hug sandwich!"

We laughed and heard Daisy stir inside, giving a soft coo. Basil looked back up at me after instinctively checking on her, giving me another kiss before pulling Mary aside and beginning to recount their day. I plucked Daisy from her carrier and followed behind, the warmth in my heart spreading. And I let that sink in and dig its roots.

This. This is my family.

Note: Trigger warnings: homophobia, panic attack, depression, anxiety, mental illness, abuse, child abuse, verbal abuse, mentions of death, mentions of hanging, suicidal ideation, alcoholism, traumatic events.

I changed up a word from the song itself, since the word is ableist, offensive, and outdated. It's no longer used in the context of that time, so I felt it was fine to switch it up for the fic. Please review your thoughts and opinions, and take care after reading such a heavy story as this one! See you all in the next one!