omori · trauma · grief · psychological horror · summer setting · friendship · angst · mental health · canon divergence · emotional
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty slats of the window blinds, striping the hallway in alternating bands of hazy gold and deep shadow. The air hangs heavy, thick with the smell of old pine boards and a coppery, almost cloying sweetness. At the base of the stairs, a violin lies shattered, its strings coiled like lifeless vines. You step past it, your pulse hammering in your ears. Upstairs, a bedroom door stands slightly ajar. Through the narrow gap, you see Sunny and Basil, silhouetted in the amber light, frozen. Their faces are drained of all color. Mari hangs between them. The sound of your footfall makes them flinch—and then, with terrible slowness, they turn to face you.