In which Sunny no-clips through reality
Falling down the stairs was, to Sunny’s dark amusement, a hilariously ironic way for him to die.
Nine months had passed since he told everyone the truth, since he shattered their picture of their world, since he moved away and left them to scramble together the pieces. Six months since Sunny, Basil and Kel were on speaking terms again. Four since Aubrey visited his new home during Christmas break. Two since Hero sent him a letter from college.
It had been difficult, but slowly, everything was starting to calm down. They were talking, they were healing, they were growing. To have all of that end because of one misstep, one tiny little slip, was likely the universe’s idea of a sick joke. Either that, or very belated karma.
Sunny’s gasp jammed in his throat when his foot missed the ground. The other foot soon followed. Oh shit. His heart dropped faster than he did. Wind rushed up his ears as his gravity’s pull wrenched him closer to the hickory wood floor, to the sharp edged steps. His hand shot to the railing. He was too far and falling too fast to grasp it.
If justice was a concept the universe understood, he wouldn’t survive this.
He closed his eyes, braced himself.
And he fell.
And fell.
And fell…
And fell…
…
He was weightless. He was flying. Despite both sensations, there was this drag that weighed him down, one he originally assumed was gravity. At this point, though, confusion was growing bigger than his fear.
He, uh, should’ve hit the ground by now. Right?
Yeah, sure, there was that whole thing of time slowing down when you’re about to die, but that wasn’t literal. Was it? He didn’t know. He really didn’t. He never died before!
It was kind of nice, once the initial shock faded away. It felt weird, yes, but it was still… nice, that floating feeling. His skin tingled, and his muscles compressed into each other, as if trying to shrink. It didn’t hurt. It was kind of uncomfortable, but not painful. And most of the discomfort came from the lack of anything happening anyway, so it wasn’t all that bad.
Huh. Dying didn’t suck nearly as much as he thought it would.
Was this how Mari felt?
Some weight from Sunny’s chest lifted. Mari. If he was dying, if this wasn’t some dumb fluke, he’d see her again. He’d see his sister again. Her kind summer’s smile, her warm laughter, her chocolate-chip-cookie scent. Would she be happy when he arrived? Upset? Furious? Would she blame him like she should? Forgive him like the others did?
But then again, she was probably in heaven, or some other heaven-like afterlife, one as peaceful and glorious as she deserved.
He would get no such treatment.
“...are… alright…?”
Sunny was slammed into the ground.
Not literally, it couldn’t be literally– there was an impact, one that winded him out for a moment, but no flare of agony followed. His body didn’t hurt, the muscles even stopped doing their weird compressing thing. His skin continued to tingle, blood rushing furiously through his veins.
That one gasp finally dislodged from his throat.
He jolted up immediately– when did he lie down?!– cough after cough being thrusted out of his lungs. Sunny grimaced, groaned, and rolled over to the side, leaning his body weight into his elbows that were against the rough ground. Hold up. Rough ground? His home’s floors were made of sleek wood.
The world was swimming around him, spinning out of control, noises fleeting in and out of focus at rapid speed. There was someone talking to his right. Their voice was hard to make out, shifting from an echo miles away to two feet beside him. He opened his eyes, and was met with dancing lights for vision.
“...ah… you’re…”
Sunny forced down his breakfast, determined not to throw up. He closed his eyes again, and focused on his breathing. Just like his therapist told him. In for four, hold for four, out for four. In– one, two, three, four… wait, was that four? Did he count the one for too long? No, crap, try again. In… one… two… did he stay too long at two? Wait, no, he should’ve kept counting, he should- oh this wasn’t helping. This wasn’t helping.
Forget it.
He was dead anyway, what did it matter?
“In… out… do it with...”
In and out.
That could work.
Just like Mari told him. Just focus on getting the air in and out. In, and out. Sunny inhaled, let the air flood his lungs, and exhaled. And then he did it again. And again. Each breath was more controlled than the last, slowly teaching his heart to calm down. Every in and outflow of oxygen cleared up the mess in his mind a little bit more.
The world stopped tilting. Sounds stopped shifting away and closer. He could even make out what the person next to him was saying now.
Sunny calmed down.
“There we go, you’ve done it.”
It was a male voice, soft spoken and violently British.
Not exactly what he expected. Then again, he wasn’t sure what he expected.
Was this what the afterlife brought him? Was the afterlife England, of all places?
“You alright there? Quite the dizzy spell you’ve had–” Understatement of the century. Was there something in his morning coffee? “–I’m afraid I haven’t any draught potions, but.. I may be able to spare something else. One moment.”
Sunny forced his eyes open, wincing at the sharp headache that immediately followed. Ouch. After a moment or two of blinking profusely and readjusting to the light of his surroundings, he glanced around, his focus darting from place to place.
He was sitting on a cobblestone ground, a few pebbles stuck to his palms and clothes. Colorful, oddly architectured shops towered around him, tall curved buildings that seemed close to falling over any second. People with weird fancy clothes scurried by, some of them carrying even stranger accessories. Huh, there were brooms in that one store a few feet down. Uhhh. Wait, was that an owl that just–? What? Holy- flying brooms! The hell? Hats too. People in witch hats. People with wands.
Outside. Not in his house. Not in his goddamn house.
“Here we go!” The man beside him cried out in delight, and Sunny flinched. He almost forgot the guy was there. A second later a chocolate bar popped into his line of sight, a dirty hand holding it, and he blinked at it. What. Just… just what?
The chocolate was waved a little, the owner emphasizing its existence.
“Go on then, eat. It helps, I promise.”
Death was the most confusing thing Sunny had ever experienced in his life.
After a moment of hesitation (this was a very stereotypical stranger-danger situation after all) Sunny took it with trembling fingers. His logic was simple: already dead, can’t die again, plus chocolate is nice; if alive and drugs, already high because wizards apparently; if alive and its death, then Mari. Win-win situation on all accounts.
Did dead people taste things? Sunny brought the chocolate to his lips– guess he was about to find out. He bit into it, and a sweet and silky taste exploded in his mouth. Like magic, chocolatey warmth spread through his limbs, so sudden and comforting he actually shivered. Whoa. Dead people did taste things, then.
“See? It helps.”
Sunny smiled despite everything. A small, small smile, merely a gentle tug at the edge of his lips.
This man was nice.
He turned around, ready to at least tell this stranger his name. He owed that man this much after so much help he got. But as soon as he was about to say the words, the Nice Man who knelt beside him– an adult with light brown, greying hair, and a surprising amount of scars carved in his face– interrupted.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lupin. Remus Lupin,” said the Man, and Sunny had to pause for a second because that couldn’t be it. Remus Lupin? Like… the character? Weird name. His parents must love Harry Potter, or they hate their son. Or both. Probably both.
‘Lupin’ hesitated for a moment, then made a split-second decision. “I suppose you’ll find out either way once classes begin…” he muttered to himself, then gave Sunny a grin, his tired eyes crinkling at the edges. “You may refer to me as Professor Lupin.” He gave a lighthearted wink. “I’ll likely be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, if you’re taking the class this year. Though I imagine you will. You are in your third year, yes? Perhaps second? Ah, well, either way, it’s a pleasure.”
Sunny’s face went as blank as his mind.
…Okay, what the shit?
His stomach swirled, twisting in discomfort, and he wanted to throw up. The Man (supposedly Professor Lupin) laughed softly, clearly misreading the look of dawning horror in his face for one of surprise.
“I know, it’s quite the coincidence we’ve met here. Never thought I’d encounter a future student in such a manner. In any case, I’ve made my introductions. What’s your name? Do you know where your parents are? I would be happy to bring you to them.”
Sunny opened his mouth to speak, even as his voice fled from his control.
And instead of words, residue chocolate, yesterday’s food, and more disgusting-ness spilled out.
He had the luck to be able to face away from the Professor (Professor fucking Lupin because of course its him and now Sunny’s in England where there’s witches and wizards and magic and what the fuck is going on and Kel or Mari or Aubrey or even Hero would love this so much but noooo Sunny is the one who–) in time to not dirty anyone.
Lupin gasped next to him.
“Merlin’s beard– take a deep breath. My wand is in my bag, let me just… you needn’t answer any questions…”
His wand.
Sunny did not get to hear the rest of that startled ramble, for at the next moment, the world went dark.
—
A starry purple sky swallowed his blurry view, its vast infinity a familiar and comforting sight. Bright green grass circled his vision, each individual blade swaying with the wind’s rhythm. The breeze was neither warm nor cold, simply a soft caress against the skin, repeating over and over again.
Sunny knew where he laid, though he was unsure as to how he got there again.
Headspace. Or what was left of it.
He shouldn’t be here.
Sunny went to sit up, to move his arms, or his legs, or his toes and fingers. He couldn’t. No matter how much he tried, he wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t meant to walk around in this place. He wasn’t meant to interact with this place. He wasn’t meant tobein this place.
A form of invisible barrier stopped him from doing anything so simple as a flinch.
Crunching noises of slowly approaching footsteps became louder and louder to his right. A black and white face soon entered his line of sight. Omori’s face.
Omori watched him silently, not blinking nor speaking. He bent over Sunny, his hair flowing down like a curtain.
His mouth moved. No sound came out. Sunny focused on the way Omori’s lips opened and closed, on the shapes that were being formed, trying to work out what was being said to no success.
A quiet ringing noise reverberated around the air, slowly growing in volume and intensity.
Omori continued to speak. Sunny picked up a pattern on the way his lips shifted.
Whatever words were being said, they were being said over and over and over again.
The ringing split into a whistling racket, sharp and painful to the ears.
The purple sky started to break, jagged cuts of black ink cracking through its facade.
Was this Blackspace?
He shouldn’t be here.
Whispers hissed and muttered around him, and familiar harsh words of harsher truths spoke in soft tones, their quiet voices growing in volume and intensity just like the ringing noise. It was getting hard to breathe.
Omori stopped speaking.
Sunny stared at him. There was nothing else he could do in his current state except stare.
“...hello..?”
A strange echo of a stranger’s voice.
“...are you feeling alright?...”
The whistle stopped. The whispers died. The sky was an ocean of darkness.
Omori’s face was the only thing Sunny could make out with clarity. The child extended his pale hands, and he cupped them around Sunny’s cheeks. They were cold as ice.
His lips moved, following the same pattern, repeating the same words.
Sunny heard him.
*Wake up.
“Mister Su-”
Sunny jolted in his seat, and Lupin flinched, startled.
“Ah! So sorry, I… I keep startling you, don’t I? I apologize. I don’t mean to.”
His heart thumped inside of his head, each beat loud to his ears. Sunny blinked, over and over and over again.
He wasn’t on the floor anymore. Hell, he wasn’t outside anymore. Dark wooden walls surrounded him, and he could hear casual chatter from every side of the restaurant. Or at least what he assumed was a restaurant. There were tables scattered about, and the warm scent of fresh food swam through the air.
When did he get here? Where was he even? Where was he-
Something gently grabbed his shoulder. Lupin’s hand. “Mr. Suzuki?”
If the physical touch didn’t shock him, hearing his last name definitely did.
Sunny snapped to look at the professor. Lupin was leaning over the table, brows furrowed with concern, his lips thinning into a straight worried line.
“I see the effects of Zonko's sweets haven’t worn off yet, have they…”
He had no idea what the fuck this man was talking about. Sunny shook his head anyway, assuming that was the appropriate answer. Lupin nodded knowingly, with another kind reassuring smile, and with a quick pat he let go of his shoulder, leaning back to his own seat.
“That will teach you not to accept candy from strangers, hm? Especially if they’re your fellow classmates,” he joked with a soft laugh, well aware of the irony of him giving chocolate earlier. Sunny tried to smile back in response, but found himself too exhausted to do so. Lupin didn’t seem to mind having a tough audience, and after a few moments he went back to some soup he was eating.
With the teacher’s attention off of him, Sunny took that moment to just collapse mentally.
He let out a deep, deep sigh through his nose, slumping into the comfortable leather booth he found himself sitting on. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. This was fine.
Just relax and try to see where you are.
Sunny looked around, and nodded minutely to himself. Yeah, definitely some sort of a restaurant.
The atmosphere was fun and welcoming, with numerous candles illuminating the tables and walls with their warm red glow. Despite their small sizes, they emanated a surprising amount of light. If Sunny really was in the Harry Potter world (don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t freak ou-) then it was likely they were enchanted or something.
An equal number of booths and tables were spaced out inside the restaurant, the cushions on each chair and booth looking– and feeling– like heavenly feathered comfort. The wooden furniture was imperfect in its build, as if it’d been hand carved and sculpted instead of created by machinery.
Dishes, cups, meals, and napkins flew all over the place, some even zipping a little too close to Sunny’s head. He flinched twice by now, once when a dirty dish floated by, and the second time when his meal (when did they order?) landed in front of him. Nothing fancy, just some mildly dressed salad and a glass of water.
The magic of this place was so much like Headspace.
But this wasn’t Headspace, was it?
Sunny wanted to throw up again. Thank goodness the food wasn’t anything heavy. If Lupin noticed his discomfort, he thankfully didn’t comment upon it.
He didn’t want to be rude, not after so much kindness from the guy– a vague memory came to him, one where Lupin helped his dizzy ass stand from the ground after he momentarily lost complete consciousness, cleaning everything with some magic– and he knew for a fact that this food was not being paid by his pocket. Wasting so much as a drop of it would be unforgivable. So he swallowed down his discomfort and picked up a fork that laid next to him, leaning closer to the table and poking the greens of his salad.
No matter how hard he tried, his appetite didn’t come. But something else did, another memory, this one even blurrier than the last.
Lupin was walking with him through Diagon Alley (or at least, what he thought was Diagon Alley, because where else would he be?), asking questions that only earned monosyllabic answers from him. He asked what happened at some point. Sunny made up a short crappy excuse.
He didn’t speak much, and Lupin picked up on that, eventually asking simple yes or no questions, ones that were much easier to answer. If the professor made up an entire narrative for him, then just agreeing or disagreeing to whatever story he created was endlessly better than having to come up with something new all by himself.
The knot of discomfort in his stomach was difficult to untie. Everything felt so distant, as if it’d happened in a dream. His therapist told him what that feeling was a while back. ‘Dissociation’, he called it.
Did dead people dissociate too?
Lupin had just asked about possibly getting in contact with some Aurors to help find Sunny’s parents when his stomach growled. Loudly. He looked at Sunny, mildly amused, and asked if he was hungry. Sunny wanted to say no. He didn’t know why he said yes.
They passed by a restaurant a few moments after– this restaurant. Lupin jumped to the occasion.
Now here they were.
Sunny stabbed his salad with a little too much force.
The professor blinked, glancing up at him from his bowl with an unconsciously raised eyebrow. Sunny didn’t meet his eyes, gazing instead at the movement of the restaurant behind Lupin, at the people and the tables, at the flickering flames of so many dim candlelights.
He brought the fork up to his mouth, taking a bite, and forcefully swallowing.
He didn’t chew.
He almost choked.
Lupin was growing visibly concerned all over again. Sunny had no idea how to stop that.
“...Mr. Suzuki, you mustn’t eat if you don’t want to.”
“I-it’s fine. I want to,” whispered Sunny, internally praising the universe for finally being able to willingly speak.
Lupin was very reluctant, opening and closing his mouth with an expression that made it very clear there were things he wanted to say, but he let it go, slowly going back to his own food. “Well then, if you insist.”
Thank goodness.
Sunny sighed quietly in relief, and shifted his focus to concentrate on the repeated pattern of poking into his salad, bringing the food to his mouth, and swallowing. He didn’t chew. He didn’t want to taste anything right now. But he wouldn’t let this food go to waste. He wouldn’t.
And so, the next few minutes were spent. Lupin would break the silence every now and then, asking some more questions about where Sunny’s parents were, how he got to Diagon Alley, whether he wanted any help finding them again, about Hogwarts, his classes, his house, and how he would get back home. Each question was answered with a shrug, a nod, or a shake of the head. Each question was another drop of water in the overflowing dam of panic Sunny was desperate to keep closed.
This did not feel like the afterlife. Of all the things he expected to go through after he passed, from eternal darkness to infinite agony, this wasn’t it. Was he dreaming? Did he hit his head in the fall, causing his mind to conjure up this world since Headspace was destroyed? No, no, that couldn’t be it. He knew how his dreams felt. Sunny wasn’t Omori right now. Sunny wasn’t in control of the story. He wasn’t in control, period.
What was going on here?
Did he really just… get randomly transported to this world? The Harry Potter world? If so- how? Why? And what did he need to do to get back? Could he get back? Was he stuck?
Stab the salad. Swallow the salad.
He wanted to throw up.
He wanted to go back.
He needed Mari.
Lupin finished his soup, and was patiently waiting for Sunny to finish his own food. He only made it halfway. But before he could push another bite in, the professor waved his wand, and what Sunny thought to be galleons (that was the wizarding money, right?) materialized over the table, tumbling down and clicking against each other.
“If you want, you may bring the rest with you.”
Sunny’s plate melted into a flat cardboard sheet, before folding itself up into a perfectly sized takeout box. His mouth dropped with awe, eyes widening. Seeing magic in his dreams was one thing. Seeing magic in his afterlife/possible alternative world was another.
This was all so… fantastically real. Or at least it felt really, really, really real.
Lupin chuckled to himself upon seeing Sunny’s face. “I seem to have overestimated your age. You’re a first year, aren’t you?”
Sunny didn’t say anything, still staring at the newly-created box with wonder. Or at least, with a quarter of wonder– the rest was suppressed panic that scratched at the newly shut doors in his mind. He suppressed a shudder at his choice of words. No, no. Not a door. Never again a door.
His silence wasn’t surprising at this point, so the professor didn’t attempt to gather more information. Small mercies.
“Very well then.” Lupin stood up from his seat, and waved his wand lightly as he muttered a word Sunny didn’t quite catch, only half paying attention to the spell as he adjusted his ragged robes. A thin golden string appeared into the air, shifting quickly into a number. Four numbers. 1847.
Sunny was about to ask what that meant, but Lupin saved him the trouble by letting out a startled “Merlin, I didn’t realize it was so late already-!” after he checked the numbers. Guess that answered that particular question.
He wasn’t used to the 24 hour clock, but he was fairly sure that anything after 17:00 or 18:00 was typically considered evening time.
At least that’s what Mari told him. She had to learn to use the military time in her German class during one of the introductory units.
“I reckon we should leave, yes?” Lupin said, grabbing his leather bag and swinging it over his shoulder. He gestured for Sunny to follow, and he didn’t waste a second before standing up, grabbing the box, and heading to the other. “We shall get your parents now before it gets dark. I can drop you off once we find them and-”
Sunny immediately shook his head, and forced the next words out, trying his best to get his volume above his damned mumbling. “N-no, no, no, it’s- it’s okay. Thanks. I, uhm, I can find them by myself.”
A little bit of pride bloomed in his chest. That must be the longest sentence he’s managed so far.
Lupin blinked at him, caught mildly off-guard. He was a little too used to the ‘yes or no’ system they previously created. That surprised look vanished quickly enough though, a worried frown replacing it. “Are you certain? It’d be no trouble, I don’t want you to–”
“I’m sure you have better things to do,” Sunny insisted as they got closer to the restaurant door. Lupin nodded at someone, probably the owner of the establishment or something, and opened the exit for the both of them. “And- and besides, my parents, uhm… they..” Come on, voice, don’t die now. Lie. Just lie. Please allow him one white lie. “...they said they’d pick me up later.”
The two stepped out of the restaurant, entering a much, much calmer Diagon Alley than the one Sunny vaguely remembered walking through a few minutes ago. Or was it hours? He couldn’t tell.
A few stragglers still wandered around, most of them adults. Some of the shop owners were closing down their stores, standing in front of their doors and waving their wands, shutting off all the internal lights and locking the doors shut with magic. Sunny tried hard not to stare.
“Later?” Lupin continued their conversation as they walked together. “Hm. It’s almost seven. Are you-”
“Y-yup.” The amount of times he interrupted Lupin were one too many. Sunny tried not to cringe at himself. At least now he didn’t have to translate what 18 hours meant- it was probably like 6:50PM by now. “They’re, uh, picking me up in thirty minutes or so. That’s the time we agreed on.”
“...I see.”
Sunny stopped walking. Lupin stopped as well, turning to him with a tilt of his head.
Now that the two of them were standing side by side, and Sunny was actually conscious enough to register it, he couldn’t help but feel short. The professor towered over him without even trying. He knew that he was not exactly on the taller side of the spectrum, years of starvation will do that to anyone, but what the hell, he hadn’t felt this short since he was 12 years old. Was this guy like seven feet or something?
“Are we stopping here?” Lupin asked, looking down at him.
“Uhm- no. Not ‘we’. Just… me.”
His voice was dying back down to a whisper again. Great. Sunny gripped the take out box so tightly it caved under his fingers. He swallowed, and forced as many words out as he could, giving a small respectful bow before the professor could cut in.
“Thank you for all your help. I appreciated it. A lot.” Could he get more awkward? He didn’t think so. “But, like, you know, I can, uhm, go home by myself.”
Lupin seemed a bit surprised. And hesitant. It was painfully clear he didn’t want to leave Sunny alone, as he thought he was a kid. Which by the way, come on, he looked young, but not that young– couldn’t the professor tell he was almost 18?
After a silent contemplative beat, Lupin nodded. “I see.” Another pause, and a small cough. “Well, in that case, have a pleasant evening, Mr. Suzuki. I will see you in class.” He smiled kindly for the last time, and after a short bow of the head, he turned around and continued walking. His steps were slow, as if he was giving time for Sunny to change his mind and go after him. But when it was clear that he had no intention to follow, the lethargic pace quickened to a normal speed.
Diagon Alley didn’t have nearly as many people compared to earlier, but even then, it didn’t take long before the professor’s tall figure disappeared in the flowing crowd, just another dot of sand in a constantly shifting beach.
Sunny stayed rooted to the spot, staring out at the general direction that Lupin had left to.
Okay then. That was something that just happened.
…
Holy shit that was something that just happened.
He sucked in air, swallowing a bubble of oxygen down his throat. His lungs expanded, and he held his breath, biting down his lips so that it wouldn’t escape.
Sunny didn’t exhale.
This worked most of the time. Headspace had now been switched for normal nightly dreams back home, and whenever he had a nightmare, instead of stabbing to wake up he simply held his breath. At one point he’d start doing so in real life, and his body would startle him awake.
He didn’t breathe out.
Wake up.
For ninety full seconds and counting, he didn’t breathe out.
Wake up, Sunny.
His chest was burning, tightening.
Wake up, please.
His lungs stretched and screamed, threatening to explode-
Something (no, someone, an old woman with a pointy witch hat) bumped into him and Sunny gasped. He stumbled to the side, hitting a wall, and his lungs must’ve just died at the sudden source of air, for a coughing spree quickly took over. Cough after cough after cough erupted inside of him. He placed a hand over his heart and squatted down as his body heaved for air. In, out, in, out, in, out.
God this was a mess.
He cringed, coughing one last time, inhaling and exhaling deeply, taking his time. With trembling legs, he stood back up.
A few stares were shot his way, piercing eyes that burned with questions and judgement. Sunny dipped his head down, shuffling even closer to the walls and further away from the main path, and pulled his hoodie up to cover his face. These must be some new clothes that Mom bought, for the hoodie was much larger than he remembered it to be that morning. It was baggy and heavy, its size falling close to his knees.
Honestly, now that he thought about it, all of his clothes felt heavier. And larger. Even his old shoes- which were tighter than ever- felt comfortably spacious.
Something then clicked in his mind.
Wait.
Did I shrink?
Sunny’s heart skipped a beat. No way.
He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands, and slipped through the horribly tall crowd, keeping a minimum distance of two feet from everyone he saw as his eyes darted around to find a mirror shop, or a puddle, or a non-blocked window to check his stupid reflection.
He didn’t like mirrors, but right now he really, really needed one.
The sky had faded into a dark ashy color, remnants of natural light radiating faintly behind the clouds. Colorful lights from the scarce open shops washed down the streets, contrasting sharply from the gray shadows. Diagon Alley would’ve been much harder to make out in the dark if it weren’t for them.
It took him longer than expected before he found something he could use. It was a window to a shop filled with jinxed shoes or something like that, if the sign with “TRICKS AND KICKS” written on it was anything to go off of. It was closed, with its lights turned off, so no one was lagging around and the glass could actually reflect things properly.
Sunny stepped forward. As he approached, his breath constricted when his silhouette became more and more defined against the glass. He stopped. A too-small boy with large clothes stood opposite of him. His body started to shake. With twitching fingers, he pulled his hoodie down.
His 13-year-old face, with uncut black hair flowing down to his shoulders and two dilating pupils stared back at him with wide, terrified eyes.
“...oh.”
A sick, twisted, terrible understanding of his current situation was slowly clarifying itself for him.
Falling down the stairs was not, to Sunny’s utter horror, the way that he would die.