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The question comes out of nowhere.
It’s a rainy day out, grey clouds smearing the sky in silver. A few of Basil’s friends linger on slippery sidewalks, trudging around in mud-slick boots and swaying with their umbrellas as they laugh through the sound of falling droplets. Weak light refracts on the shiny folds of their nylon raincoats, making them all look like a school of glittering fish as they goof around and try to get each other wet.
Basil watches from a distance, safe under the protective niche of his umbrella. He’s hoping to capture a few photos, though the rain makes him wary to brandish his camera. In the meantime, he chats with Sunny, who’s dressed in a coat the color of blooming periwinkles, hair slightly mussed from the humidity.
“Aren’t spring showers delightful?” Basil muses. “It’s been a while since we’ve had any real rain.”
Sunny arches an eyebrow. “Real rain?”
“Something longer than five minutes,” he huffs. “And whenever that happens, it always rains too hard for us to go outside.”
“It is nice,” Sunny admits. He’s speaking more than monosyllables today, but Basil doesn’t mind when he chooses not to talk, either. He’s naturally quiet, but always willing to lend an ear. Oftentimes Basil thinks he might be blithering on too long, but Sunny’s gaze stays focused on him instead of drifting away. It’s nice, being listened to.
Basil glances back at Aubrey and Kel. The former sticks her tongue out when Kel tries to duck under her pink umbrella, but he only laughs and sneaks behind her, flashing a peace sign with his hands as she rolls her eyes and grins.
There are moments where Basil’s precisely sure of when to take a shot, and this is one of them. He pulls out his camera, focuses on the pair, and takes the picture. After waving around the film, he scrutinizes the photo before declaring it good enough for the album.
“Can I see?” Sunny asks.
Basil nods, and that’s when their quaint conversation train runs off the rails, because he starts talking, and he’s talking nonsense. It begins with an innocent observation and seemingly spirals, but once the question leaves his mouth, he can’t take it back: “You know...you always ask to look at my photo whenever I take any pictures of Aubrey.”
Instantly, he realizes what he’s insinuated. He should leave it at that, really, and let the silence birth another topic of conversation, but a small part of him is curious. Deathly curious, even when he’s sure that this is a jewel he doesn’t want to uncover, because it’s nice being blissfully ignorant. His crush on Sunny is delicate enough, and knowing the obvious truth – that Sunny is probably infatuated with someone else – will smother him day and night.
But all these hesitancies come a second too late. He leans in coyly and says, “Do I...maybe...sense a little crush?”
Sunny’s ears blaze red with the truth, and Basil’s hand presses against his mouth. From a distance, through the pelting rain, it looks like he’s trying to hide a budding smile. In truth, he’s covering up the twist of his mouth, keeping the ugly secrets on his tongue at bay, if only so Sunny can see that Basil is happy for him, really and truly.
He won’t be a bad friend. He can’t be a bad friend, because if a friend is all Basil can be, he’s going to try his damned hardest at it.
He lets out a dejected huff of air, easily mistaken for a laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.”
Sunny doesn’t have very many tells, but his expression is furtive as he clutches the wooden curve of his umbrella handle. They settle into silence – Basil can’t tell if it’s awkward or not – before Kel bounds over, dousing them with little droplets like a dog shaking off its sopping fur. “Hey, guys, tell Aubrey to stop being a jerk.”
“I am not,” she insists, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. The ribbons of her pink bow flail in the wind like butterfly wings. “You should’ve brought your own umbrella!”
“Oh, I’m not talking about that-” he whirls around, poking her in the chest. “You keep pouring umbrella water on me!”
“Umbrella water? What the heck is umbrella water?”
“You know what I mean,” he grumbles. “Basil, tell her she’s being totally unfair.”
“Why don’t you guys just share an umbrella?” he suggests.
“No!” they both shout indignantly, launching into yet another argument. Basil glances at Sunny to catch a glimpse of his reaction, but the latter is busy staring at Aubrey. She doesn’t look any different than usual, but her sharp blue eyes light up with fierceness while she berates Kel, and her hair flows down her back, all shiny and conditioner-commercial perfect, and though the rain is growing thick, she’s still perfectly visible, carving out a space through the storm with her own stubbornness.
Basil’s heart sinks. As one of Aubrey’s best friends, of course he notices these things. But Sunny notices them with a different color film slipped over his eyes, and when another moment to take a photo arises, Basil stuffs his camera in his pocket.
He wants to treasure memories, but this – this pit in his stomach that won’t go away, that digs deeper into his gut, as out of place as a lump of coal planted in a garden - isn't something he wants to remember.
The question comes out of nowhere.
“Do I...maybe...sense a little crush?”
To say Sunny’s thrown off guard is a bit of an understatement: he’d equate the scenario to being sequentially hosed down with a paint gun, run over by a car, and dumped in the lake head-first.
At the word crush, his ears blare red like police sirens. Sure, he thinks Aubrey is pretty, and maybe he’d crushed on her when they were younger, but that’s all it ever was – a crush. But having the question asked by Basil, the boy he’s currently smitten with, makes it infinitely worse in a multitude of ways.
The way Basil looks at him as he asks is the final straw – his blond lashes flutter with every coquettish blink, and his smile is something Sunny would expect from Mari, or maybe Aubrey – curled up at the edges like twine, utterly coy and utterly bewitching. Even the way he talks has what remains of Sunny’s eloquence melting away like candle wax, his voice lowering conspiratorially, bubbly tone smoothing out into something heady and unfamiliar.
When that happens, Sunny’s brain essentially aborts. His gaze swivels towards Aubrey, a less threatening thing to look at. He faintly registers Basil telling him he’ll keep his crush a ‘secret’ and it’s at this point that Sunny realizes that he’s - as Aubrey’s friend Kim would say – in ‘deep shit.’
Because now Basil thinks he likes Aubrey. And here’s the thing – Sunny isn’t planning on confessing within this century, because it’s almost certain that Basil doesn’t like him that way, doesn’t like boys at all, but if there’s even the sliver of a chance that he, hypothetically, did like Sunny, then he wouldn’t act on those feelings because Sunny supposedly liked Aubrey.
He tells himself not to worry about it, because, again, this whole ‘Basil liking Sunny’ situation is entirely theoretical and not possible within this timeline. That doesn’t stop him from sulking when he goes home, though, and Mari instantly notices.
“Sunny?” she arches a perfectly judgmental eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says.
“Then why are you lying face-down on the couch?”
He glares at her, suddenly feeling inconvenienced with the conversation. “I want to.”
“Right.” She plops down next to him and reaches for the remote. “Well, you’ll have to make room.”
Sunny recognizes the setup for a prep talk solely based on the fact that Mari doesn’t even like watching TV and swallows down a groan. His sister fiddles with the remote buttons, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and shuffles closer. “So...what’s up?”
He doesn’t respond, pushing his face deeper into the pillow its smushed in. Mari huffs. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Well, we’ll have to settle for the process of elimination. Is it school? Anyone picking on you? Did you have a fight with one of your friends? Kel? Aubrey?”
His ears, traitorous as they tend to be, turn red, and she snaps her fingers in success. “Aubrey, hm? Do you have a crush on her?” Her expression turns sly. “You know, when you two first met, you acted so odd around her that I figured...”
Sunny blearily turns around, his face out of the ditch he’d carved in the pillow. “I don’t...I don’t like Aubrey.”
He wishes it didn’t sound so hesitant, coming out a timid croak, but Mari understands. “Then...did you guys have a fight?”
He shakes his head.
Her lips twist into a frown, the same kind she gets after working on an befuddling assignment too long. “What is it, then?”
Sunny doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to say I’m hopelessly in love with friend who thinks I love someone else. The pieces of sopping string that serve as the remainder of his brain don’t have the verbosity, and he’s not sure he can muster the courage to reveal something so personal to him, something he’s kept tucked close to his chest for years.
But if he can’t tell his sister this, he can’t tell her anything, and Mari knows how to keep secrets. She always seemed to have a solution for everything, didn’t she? He sucks in a breath, a prickling sensation emerging in his throat, and mumbles, “Basil thinks I like Aubrey.”
Mari blinks, a lengthy second passing before it dawns on her. Her smug grin amends itself into something more genuine. “Oh, Sunny.” Her lips purse. “Oh, you silly goose.”
He stares at her. “Silly...goose?”
“Oh, my sweet baby brother,” she croons, dragging him out of the pillow’s solace and pulling his reluctant, pasta-limp body into a hug. He scowls when she begins petting his head of mussed hair. “My poor, sweet baby brother-”
“Mari-”
“If you like Basil so much, you’ve got to take action!” she continues vigorously, staring him in the face. He gives her a disgruntled frown. “Tell him your feelings!”
“But...” he can’t focus on her anymore and stares at his fidgeting fingers instead. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” she huffs. “He likes you, you like him – you guys will be a sweet couple, I’m sure.”
“Basil doesn’t like me,” Sunny tells her.
“Of course he does. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?”
“But...he looks at everyone that way.”
“And this is exactly what I mean.” She bops him playfully on the head. “Silly. Goose.”
His cheeks flare up. “I’m not a-”
“Yes, you are,” she replies solemnly. “Why don’t you think Basil could like you?”
Sunny thinks it’s a stupid thing to ask. It’s obvious to him – Basil is radiant, gentle and kind with everyone, even people who don’t deserve it. He’s sweet and just being around him is comfort enough. Sunny’s a joke, starting from his ironic name. He’s more cloudy than sunny, quiet instead of bright. People don’t know how to act around him, call him stupid when he doesn’t respond as quickly, call him emotionless because his face doesn’t emote in a way they can understand, call him sensitive when he flinches because some people are too loud-
It’s obvious to him. He can’t convey all that to Mari, but from his sullen expression, she seems to gauge his unsaid response. “Sunny...you can’t believe any of that is true.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he mutters dryly.
“I can just tell,” she insists. “Sister’s intuition. And, also...because I used to feel like that a lot. We all try to be the best version of ourselves, but sometimes we think we aren’t enough. But the people who love us – all the things we thought made us a little less perfect are just quirks to them. And if Basil wasn’t fond of those parts, would you guys even be such good friends? He already likes you plenty as a friend, and I’d bet my entire allowance that he wants to be more.”
Sunny tries to wrap his head around her words, but all he can manage is, “we don’t have an allowance.”
She huffs, planting her hands on her hips. “You get my point. But if you aren’t ready to tell him, that’s okay, too. If you do decide to ask him out, I’ll be cheering you on. And hey...maybe Basil will surprise you.”
Mari pecks him on the forehead and returns upstairs to their room, probably within the thralls of another homework assignment. Sunny’s starting to feel a little dumb laying splayed out like a starfish on the couch, and his mood less downcast now, so he begins prying himself off the cushions.
He tries to ignore the little bud of hope Mari’s planted, because hope never did him any good, and decides he needs to keep himself occupied.
Kel.
“Okay, spit it out already, Basil.”
He bites his lip, shoving away the milkshake Aubrey and him are sharing. “Spit what out?”
“You’re acting weird,” she says, scrutinizing his hunched up shoulders and faraway gaze. “Did I do something?”
Yes. “No! It isn’t you, I’m just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.”
Aubrey frowns, knitting her brow. Her lip juts out suspiciously. “Basil, you’re a horrible liar.”
“I-I’m not lying!”
“You are,” she insists. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, y’know.”
Basil resists the urge to hug his knees, another obvious tell of his anxiety that Aubrey will surely point out. When she’d invited him for milkshakes outside the Othermart, he’d hoped they would be in for another effortlessly fun time. It had only been a few days since Basil had found out about Sunny’s crush, and he had absolutely not spent it moping around, taking is anger out on weeds, or ignoring Aubrey, whom he was, for the record, not jealous of. He wouldn’t sink that low.
This completely solid reasoning made the envy curling in his gut even more irrational, especially when Aubrey smiled at him when he’d arrived. He should’ve smiled back, and he did, but his mouth did some twisted mockery of a real grin, and she’d noticed.
Usually, he told Aubrey everything. She wasn’t as good a listener as Sunny, butting in every five seconds with her own two cents, but she was comforting in her own way. But he can’t tell her about this without exposing Sunny’s feelings, and that’s one line he refuses to cross. After all, he had promised.
So it’s come to this – him pretending not to be an emotional mess in front of his observant friend. He sips his milkshake, letting the soothing texture distract him from practically every other issue staring him in the face.
“Basil.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re biting your straw. Hard.”
He quickly pulls away, but the damage is already apparent in the mangled head of the straw. “Um...oops?”
“Come on!” Aubrey groans. “You can tell me!”
“It’s - it’s nothing important-”
“It’s important if it’s making you this upset,” she refutes. “You don’t have to give me any details, but...I’d like to help.”
He sighs, pushing the tall glass of milkshake away and staring at the pavement underneath his feet. If he stares long enough, maybe Aubrey will lose interest and move onto a more amiable topic. Except she’s still staring at him, and her eyes are that particular shade of icy blue that he’s never been able to mimic, the same gaze that had chased away his bullies when they’d first met.
Basil clutches his overall pocket, shriveling the denim fabric. “Um...what...what would you do if you liked someone who liked someone else? Not that – not that I...”
“Uh-huh.” Aubrey rolls her eyes. “So you’ve got a crush?”
“Well, um-” His face is bright pink, the color of peonies. “Um.”
“You’ve got a crush,” she affirms, a grin on her lips. “Normally I’d totally tease you about this, but I’m gonna help you first. Who’s the crush?”
“You said I didn’t have to give any details,” he reminds her.
“Right,” she grumbles. “Fine, privacy, that’s cool. Well, here’s what I would do – I'd go up to them and say, I like you, we should date!”
“...Nevermind.”
“What’s wrong with that strategy? I think it’ll work. Or, you could do something with more – what's the word Mari used – theatrics. You could write them a love letter! Or send them their favorite flower-”
“Aubrey,” Basil mumbled. “I said that they like someone else.”
Aubrey blinks. “Oh. I missed that part.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d still ask them out,” she says. “Shoot my shot and all. You won’t get any closure if you don’t.”
“Closure?”
“Yeah.” She downs the rest of the milkshake, a whipped cream moustache lining her lips. “You could confess just to get your feelings out, clear the air. Maybe you’ll feel better.”
“But...” Basil frowns. “Won’t that make things awkward?”
“If it’s just some rando, yeah, totally. But you aren’t the type to fall in love with strangers, are you?” She arches a single regal eyebrow. “If it’s someone you know well, and you’re friends...well, a little awkwardness won’t ruin a real friendship.”
His gaze slides towards her, tentative. She’s smiling at him, and he feels a shot of guilt for having been jealous, and for letting it distance himself from her. She hadn’t deserved that. He'll make it up to her, but first...he can give her advice a try. Just the thought makes him jittery with unease, because he doesn’t even know how to approach confessing to Sunny, and he really doesn’t want to mess up their friendship.
Aubrey’s right, though. They’ve been friends for five years now, and he ought to give Sunny more credit. Their bond is stronger than that. He’s dreading the imminent tension, but better that than him distancing himself from Sunny, too, when his feelings grow too strong for him to ignore.
“I’m...” he inhales, standing on wobbly feet and fragile conviction. “I’m going to try.”
“That’s the spirit!” she claps him on the back. “Love letter? Serenade?”
“Um...I was going to go with the flower option.”
“Yeah, that makes more sense.” Her grin turns sheepish. “Good luck!”
Yeah, he thinks, making his way back home, a half-baked plan in mind, I’m going to need it.
Sunny doesn’t know how it happens, but it does.
One minute he’d been at Kel’s house, playing a game of cards and trying not to look like he was having an internal crisis, when Kel had asked him if he was okay. And, because his usually efficient brain-to-mouth filter was being a spiteful little brat that day, or maybe because Kel was just easy to talk to, he ended up venting about his romantic frustrations. Kel was determined to help Sunny out (and absurdly hard to deny), and after an agonizing hour of planning and crossing out and aimless internet scrolling, he’s here.
Here being Basil’s doorstep. At 7 PM. In a shirt and shorts, because Kel told him there was no time to change.
The regret is already creeping in. A sharp wind scratches at his bare legs, and the yellow box in his hands is starting to feel ridiculous. He prepares to knock, but hesitation pulls his trembling finger back with every attempt. He might not even be here. He’s probably about to sleep. Just come back tomorrow. Or don’t come back at all.
He almost considers it, but Kel had helped a lot with the gift, and Sunny would feel guilty if it all turned out to be a waste. And when it begins to rain – hard, pelting bullets of rain that hurt when they hit his skin – Sunny knows there’s no turning back.
He knocks. It’s only been a few seconds, but his hair is already wet and slick, and the white shirt he’s wearing is stained with droplets of grey. His heart pounds as he hears someone fumbling with the doorknob – maybe Polly. She’ll usher him in, demand he take a change of clothes, and by then he’ll hopefully be presentable-
No. It’s Basil. Basil, his growing blonde hair tied into a high bun, strands framing his face like gold string. Basil, wearing an oversized shirt – the old one he uses for gardening – with the cotton garment slipping precariously off his shoulders, brushing against his knees. Basil, with dirt smudged on his pink cheeks, mouth forming a perfect little o of surprise.
“Sunny!” He cries out. “Oh, gosh, you’re soaked!”
“I know,” he manages. “Um-can we talk?”
“S-sure!” His voice is high-pitched and strained. Sunny’s about to ask whether or not he’s alright, but when Basil steps out into the rain instead of offering that they go inside, he has his answer. By now the rain is a minor inconvenience, because it’s time, and he isn’t sure if he’s ready, and the gift box in his hands seems so stupid now-
You can do it, Sunny! Just take a deep breath and let it go. That’s what I do before games, whenever I’m feeling nervous.
Sunny takes in a deep breath, just like Kel had taught him to do. “I made you something.”
“You did?” Basil finally notices the box in his hands. “I-”
“It’s cake,” Sunny shoves the box in his hands. “Strawberry. Um – I just...”
You can do it. I believe in you. And hey...maybe Basil will surprise you.
“I like you,” he says. He doesn’t rush it out, and the words are slow, falling from his mouth like raindrops. “As more than a friend.”
Droplets slide down his arms, sprinkle against the ground. The silence is all-consuming, and the seconds draw out long and painful. Even though this is what he expected, it doesn’t make the disappointment any lighter to bear. He can’t look up at Basil – Basil, who he might have just lost because he was dumb enough to be coerced into this plan. But as always, Sunny’s gaze goes back to him, like a comet returning to a star after a long orbit.
Basil is crying. It’s hard to tell at first, because both of their faces are wet with rain, but there are tears caught in his eyelashes. Regret fades into panic. “Basil?
“I thought...” his voice is barely a whisper, gaze darting towards the darkened pavement. “I thought you liked Aubrey?”
He shakes his head. “I used to, when I was a kid, but...that’s it.”
“Oh.” Basil’s cheeks flush. “Now I feel dumb.”
“’Cause you are.”
“Jerk,” Basil mumbles. His cheeks flush. “And...I like you, too. Just so you know.”
Sunny can’t help but laugh. He feels so ridiculous right now, standing in pyjamas and drenched and confessing his emotions during a storm like a melodramatic character in one of Mari’s soap operas – because, as far as he knows, this can’t be real life. Knowing that his feelings are requited is even more ridiculous, because in no universe should they be. Yet here they are.
“What’s so funny?”
Everything. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Do you...like me?”
“You’re my best friend.” Basil smiles. “I like everything about you, even the parts that can be a jerk.”
“Oh.”
Basil smirks. “Feeling dumb yet?”
“Shut up.” There’s a line on his face that he can’t quite call a smile. It’s beyond giddy, wider than any normal smile should be.
“You know,” Basil says, twiddling his thumbs, “I was going to confess today.”
Sunny stares at him. “What?”
“See?” He points to the dirt on his cheek, which is slowly being washed away by the rainfall. “I was digging up some flowers, but went inside when I saw it was about to rain. You knocked before I could take a shower.” He blushes. “Honestly, I should’ve added something else. I give you flowers all the time.”
“I would’ve been really happy,” Sunny says, voice soft. “If you had given me flowers.”
“Do you-” Basil points to the door, a nervous grin on his face. “Want to see them? I just put them in a vase.”
Sunny nods, reaching for Basil’s free hand. The other boy’s fingers entwine with his, like they always do.
“You know,” Basil says, “we probably should’ve gone inside earlier.”
“We’re soaked,” Sunny notes.
“We’re probably going to get sick.”
“Fever?”
He sighs. “Fever.”
“Does that mean I can stay the night?”
Basil smiles, squeezing Sunny’s hand as they walk through the door, warmth hitting them in a euphoric wave. “Do you even have to ask?”