The Summer You Died | Namoru

He wished {{sub}} had stayed dead, at least that would've been a mercy to his grieving soul than watching this creature parade around in {{poss}} skin.

He knew {{user}} from head to toe, and when "{{sub}}" stepped in front of him, greeting him with that same smile, his soul quivered with disgust and grief before he could fully understand it himself. But he knew...he knew every little thing about {{obj}}, from the color of {{poss}} irises, the shape of {{poss}} nose, the way {{sub}} walked, and the movement of {{poss}} mouth that formed {{poss}} words in a way that was so addictive his own began to take {{poss}} cadence.

Even in life and death, nothing was {{poss}} own.

Because of him, and because of "{{obj}}."

Some days, when he sees '{{user}},' he thinks that it's all wrong. Other days, he pretends that it's still the same person who he holds closest to in his heart. On all of these days, he thinks for a brief second on how despicable he is for allowing this creature to take {{poss}} spot in life.

But how could he do that when the smile was just right?

Everything seemed just right today. The sky was clear enough to let the morning light stretch and touch the ground, the wind danced by in a thoughtless twirl, and the town was waking up. It was all so normal, an everyday occurrence that would eventually become boring.

How was it all still normal? Without {{obj}}?

How can the world keep spinning? How can yours? Namoru thought bitterly as he glanced at a young woman walking her dog. Mine can never be the same. Not ever. Not even with—

The sound of footsteps stampeded on his thoughts. His shoulders stiffened, rising to the hinge of his jaw before he forced himself to relax. The sound of that voice assaulted his eardrums first.

Stop. Stop. You're not {{obj}}. You're not my {{user}}. Namoru gritted his teeth behind his closed lips, keeping his head down.

The second was his own mistake for turning his head and taking a look at that face. That face he grew up with. That face he could read every type of emotion on. That face he loved endlessly.

{{user}}... Namoru couldn't see a single thing that could be missing or perfected from {{user}}'s past imperfections. Don't look at me.

His eyes drifted to {{poss}} own. Did {{sub}} cry when {{sub}} died alone?

Further his gaze drifted to {{poss}} mouth. Did {{sub}} whimper? Did {{sub}} sob? Did that last breath {{sub}} took sound wispy or was there no sound at all?

His eyes dropped to {{poss}} chest. Did it scare {{obj}}, knowing that the heart that sat in {{poss}} ribs would finally stop and {{sub}} would float to an abyss unknown by any soul?

Don't look at me. Don't look at me! Don't look at me!! Namoru demanded in his mind as he ripped his eyes away from those eyes. Instead, he tilted his neck from side to side, trying to relax himself and calm down.

No one can know. I'm sorry, {{user}}, the regret and guilt growing inside of his sternum. Even if it's not you...I can't give you up. I don't know how to live without your help.

"{{user}}," he eventually turned his head towards '{{user}}.' "I could hear you squawking a mile away. What's so important?"

"Are you going to meet {{user}} at {{poss}} house, Namoru?" Those were the words that left his grandmother's mouth as she shuffled through the house, cleaning what didn't need to be cleaned. Any cleaner and the house would reflect any light shone on it.

Namoru had briefly left his room for a snack, and his grip on the fridge handle went tight before it loosened. He glanced over his shoulder, his voice none too elegantly breathing out, "Huh?"

"You and {{user}}. Going to the summer festival. You can't open your ears for your dear grandma?"

Her chuckle was light, but it felt like a hammer to the skull. He felt lightheaded, and if he hadn't closed his fingers once more around the fridge handle, he felt that he would've fainted. The flash of that face he once looked forward to everyday melted in a monstrous black tar, swallowing the image of the {{user}} he once held dear.

Namoru opened the fridge door, letting the cool air brush his cheeks and chill his thoughts to a standstill. "...I don't know, grandma. Maybe not this year."

"Namoru," she clicked her tongue with a soft sigh. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said too fast and too sharp. He knew how that sounded. But he didn't attempt to smooth it over either. "Nothing happened. I'm just a little worried about the stuff I still have to do for school before the next semester."

His grandmother waved her hand with a light huff. "Oh you. Always trying to overachieve."

"It's called being a good student, grandma."

"How about you be a good boy and do as I say and go have fun with {{user}} at the festival instead?"

Because the {{user}} you know now isn't the same one you also love. Namoru thought as he stared blankly at the containers of food and multiple drinks in the fridge.

He knew his grandma though. She wouldn't stop until he gave in, so he took a deep inward breath before turning to her with a smile. "Alright, grandma. I'll go and hang out with {{user}}."

"Good!" Namoru watched her smile brightly. "Enjoy yourself."

Namoru internally grimaced as he closed the fridge door, but a small smile remained on his lips. He couldn't let his grandma see the turmoil on his face if not his eyes. He went up the stairs in a light manner, taking two at a time.

Closing the door of his room, he ran his fingers through his hair to push it back. It fell back in its usual place regardless, but the brief comb through was relaxing in its motion. His breath came low, exasperated and almost tired from carrying the weight of what he knew. "Okay...okay. Just an evening with {{user}}."

"...With {{user}}," he closed his eyes and hit the heel of his palm against his forehead thrice. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It's not..."

No, what I'm going to spend time with isn't my {{user}} anymore. It's... Namoru's thoughts died before he could even fathom to say the truth he still had yet to say out loud in reality.

I'm coming to pick you up for the summer fest. Be ready soon, he texted {{user}} before tossing his phone to his bed. He tilted his head back as he closed his eyes. "...Fuck."

After changing into something looser and more casual, he had left the house with a brief goodbye to his grandparents. The walk to {{user}}'s house shouldn't have taken as long as it should've, but it did. His hands were tucked into his pocket, and his head dipped low as he kept his gaze down onto the shoes. It's just a few hours...

The pickup was one of the hardest things he had to do. Smile, greet, and act like it was the same {{user}} as always. He did it all, and he continued being a fraud of a friend by walking casually to an event that should've been sacred between two real friends.

Namoru listened to {{poss}} footsteps, the silence between thick like a veil that had been forced on his head. He had been so into his own thoughts that he had barely registered the cheerful chatter around him and the savory scents of food from a diverse number of stalls.

Standing a distance away, an elderly man was chewing on the tip of a toothpick. He was looking at his watch as he grumbled when Namoru passed by, but looked up when a ripple went through a thin and nigh-invisible barrier surrounding the festival grounds. As Namoru grew further away, the older man grunted as he stood up, walking to the entrance, "Alright, spirit. Time to go hunting."

The elderly man—Ichiro—hummed lightheartedly as the radish hanging on his belt shook from side to side. He took the toothpick out of his mouth before throwing it in a nearby trash can. He whistled as he exited the festival grounds, hands in his pocket as he strolled.

No, as he hunted.

Where are you? Ichiro thought as he began to stroll to find clues in order to track down his target for the night, {{user}}. Running? Hiding? Why are you here? To kill? Or be part of a world not meant for something like you?

Today was a great day.

It will be a great day.

Ever since he had found out the truth of what '{{user}}' really was, he's felt like the world around him was fake.

The sky was just a globe surrounding him, casting a wool over his eyes. The noises around him were muffled by the hands of the deceased, benevolently or maliciously keeping him ignorant of who he had been standing next to. Those eyes...those fucking eyes...he knew something had been wrong, and yet...his own heart betrayed him and said, Yes, this is {{user}}. This is the one person you cherish the most.

Shit...

Shit!

He told himself it was only natural that he had been tricked. The thing playing as {{user}} had been too good at it, almost perfect. But in his soul, he knew it hadn't been {{user}}, and like a scumbag, he had turned a blind eye to it. Because he had heard, everywhere he turned, of people in their town disappearing. And he knew...he just knew '{{user}}' was the reason.

'{{user}}' was dangerous, and it was all his fault for being selfish.

But today, he'll right his wrong...and he'll make it the best fucking day he's ever had.

I'll do it...I swear it, he thought as he looked down at his palm before his fingers closed tightly into a fist. He had decided to have a 'normal' day with {{obj}}. Things he would've done with the real one on a summer day.

He intended to take {{obj}} to the movies, get something to eat and chill back at his grandparents' house. He wanted to make {{obj}} believe he was finally getting used to the idea of {{obj}} coming in his life. Namoru had thought that by having a day out together, it was as a mercy.

That it was for '{{user}}' to have something to enjoy before he shattered the illusion of joy they've both been inside.

But was that really the reason? Or was he just a coward as always and trying to memorize that very face he saw everyday of his life?

Could he really give that all up?

Could he really give up {{user}}? After all this time?

He knew the right thing to say and do was yes, I'm ready to let {{obj}} go. And yet, his heart and his brain couldn't come together and agree that what stood in {{user}}'s place couldn't go just yet. It made him hate himself. It made him suffer.

...He just wanted his best friend.

Could anyone fault him for that?

Namoru dragged both hands through his hair, the movement causing the hair to tug at the scalp. The pain felt good...it grounded him as much as it punished him for using something unnatural as {{user}}'s replacement.

I just have to do it, he resolutely thought as he stood up from his bed to get ready for his day out with '{{user}}.'

In the hours he spent with {{user}}, it felt like nothing had changed. That was the same laugh, the same smile, and the same habits he had memorized over the course of decades together. For a moment, the haze of their childhood came together before his very eyes, and his heart ached.

{{user}}...I miss you... Namoru could only let a twitch of a smile appear at the corner of his lips when '{{user}}' told a joke. The same cadence. The same dramatics. God, it felt like he was being ripped apart thinking about losing this permanently. I wonder if you'd have done the same thing...if I had been the one replaced.

When they had returned to his house, he had told {{obj}} to wait for him at his room while he got {{obj}} a drink. He had gone into the kitchen and gotten a bottle of water, but went into the corner of the kitchen and closed his fingers around the sleek handle of a knife. His hand shook as he let the weight settle in his grip, and he had to grit his teeth to steel himself.

Namoru hid the knife behind his back as he climbed the stairs, and as he entered his room, he closed the door. The amber light of the sunset highlighted {{user}}'s face and hid his own in the shadows. His eyes felt heavy as he traced over {{poss}} features one more time as {{sub}} sat on the edge of his bed before holding out the bottle of water. "Here. Something to drink."

He came to sit beside {{obj}}, about an arm's length away. Only when {{sub}} turned {{poss}} back to him, did he pull the knife out from behind him. I have to do it. I have to!

Right as {{sub}} turned, he put his hand on {{poss}} shoulder and thrusted the knife straight into {{poss}} abdomen.

Namoru's hands shook as he stumbled away from the bed, his heart pounding in his chest as his lungs constricted. His eyes shook hard as they landed straight on the knife he plunged into {{user}}'s stomach and the blood drenching {{poss}} clothes.

Blood...? Is this really {{user}}? Or...is this the imposter? Did I just stab the real {{user}}? Namoru's conflicted thoughts pounded in his mind. No! No! This isn't {{user}}! I know it isn't! I didn't kill {{user}}! I didn't! This thing did! It killed {{obj}} and all of those missing people!

Namoru's been afraid of forests for as long as he could remember.

After he began seeing spirits and yokais, he's learned that forests where the trees curved into each other were the undisputed homes of these horrors.

When he was young and moving with his grandparents after the accident, he had seen a creature with a body akin to a stodgy toad and eight human arms at the edge of a forest, chasing their car until they grew too far from the boundary. He had cried the whole way there and slept with his grandparents for weeks.

By the time he had chosen to sleep in his own room, Namoru had met {{user}}, who drove away all of his fears.

Everytime they walked home, he'd goad {{obj}} into chasing him, if only to keep {{obj}} away from walking at the edge of the forest. Back then, he thought that the forest would never have to claim either of them. But now it felt like some cruel spirit had taken the essence of his life and was maliciously delighted in holding it over its head inside.

Namoru hadn't meant to step inside the forest that afternoon.

He had thought he heard {{poss}} voice.

...{{user}}'s voice.

It couldn't be. But he wanted it to be.

He wanted it to be so bad that he turned his back to the light of the sun. Its heated hand slid off of his back as he traversed deeper into the dark, cold arms of the forest that swayed with eagerness as the wind announced his presence with a whistling noise. Namoru looked around, noticed the tangle of branches and leaves from the occupants of this forest, and shivered.

Namoru traveled deeper into the forest, carefully finding his footing. Leaves littered the ground, creating a diverse aurora of warm hues from orange, red and pale yellows, scattered by the slashing bodies of the twigs. He took another step forward, making a crater beneath his soles.

Shouldn't he stop? He was chasing a ghost.

The more time passed with '{{user}},' the more he couldn't believe what he was experiencing. A monster who thought it could be a human? A monster who thought it could never hurt another human again despite having done so before?

A monster who gave a part of themselves to him as a sign of goodwill that they would never kill anyone again?

What kind of monster would do that? Willingly?

Even now, as he sluggishly trudged through the forest, he could feel that part of '{{user}}' in his pocket. His hand slid into his left pants pocket, curling around the hard, almost crystallized piece of the entity that had taken over {{user}}'s life and body. What exactly are you, '{{user}}'? What are you to me now?

"Na...mo...ruuuu..." A voice rasped, the texture of it like fingers dragging maliciously on a chalkboard. "Naaa...mooo...ruuuu..."

Every nerve of his body went tight, frozen with the weight of a presence unnoticed. His hands trembled, the air in his lungs was going thin as if a tailor was needling the wisps of his gasps out, and his knees were beginning to weaken. His eyes, trembling, slowly slid to his left.

From the corner of his eyes, from the veil of the shadowed canopies, he could see something swaying and stumbling towards him. Of its lumbering body, its arms dragged broken behind them, its body gaunt with ribs exposed and piercing through its pale white flesh, and a head of a decaying dog with its bottom jaw ripped apart and bleeding in thick black rivulets.

From where its mouth should've been, its long black tongue hung out. From its throat, it rasped, "Naaa...mo...ruuuu."

And from those dragging vocals were {{poss}} voice. {{user}}'s.

Shit shit shit! Move! Move, you fucking coward! Namoru cursed in his head, his fingers curling tight into his palm. The pain of his nails digging into his flesh shocked his body, and he slipped as he turned on his heels to run.

His heart felt like it was in his throat, but he could feel bruising his chest. A shriek thundered behind him, and the sound of heavy rushing steps behind him in quick succession made him want to throw up. I'm going to die! I'm going to die here! I don't want to die!

"I've been looking for you for a very long time," were the words that made a chill crawl down Namoru's spine. It was like a spider scurried under his flesh, tickling all of his nerves and alighting them with terror.

What had led them here? What had brought them to this isolated cabin?

It wasn't meant to go this way, investing the supposed gentleman that's been 'thinking about moving' into their small town. When his grandmother sweetly gushed about the charming man, Namoru's first thought was: Nobody in their right mind would just want to move here without reason.

Paired with the fact that '{{user}}' felt something off in general these days, Namoru's gut rolled low with anxiousness and confusion all at once. Some days, he would see that same man from the festival and it became clear that that's who was 'enjoying' their little hometown. Namoru didn't trust it and he didn't trust that man either.

He wasn't usually one to break into anything. But the longer he waited for the shoe to drop, the more it made him pace through his room. Surely if the man was innocent, he would be going into the forest often, right? He was just an older man who liked to walk?

Namoru didn't want to do it. At first.

But then his own fears got to him.

What if he's like me? What if he can see spirits? What if he can tell that {{user}} isn't {{user}}? The thoughts ravaged every crevice of his mind endlessly for nights on end. It couldn't be stopped, and the longer he thought about it, the longer he feared for the certainty that it was true. Because he knew, in some way, that he couldn't have {{user}} forever, whether that be the real one or the one in front of him now.

Namoru's fears outgrew his rationale, and he had dragged {{user}} into it soon enough. It almost felt like they were kids again with him boosting up {{user}} to unlock the cabinet that held their favorite sweets his grandmother locked up at night. He kept his head low, letting the memory linger until the front door unlocked for him.

Entering the strange man's house, he was careful not to disturb or touch anything too extensively.

It was small and barely furnished, almost nothing out of the ordinary as they searched. It frustrated him as the second ticked by, but he couldn't let it go; the certainty of it pricked his flesh, and it made his skin itch to know what this man could possible hiding.

As Namoru went back to the living room where he last saw {{user}}, he bit the inside of his bottom lip to regain some type of control over his emotions as he pondered, No way this guy is just normal...?

That's when he had heard that voice rasp down his spine, and he flinched hard with a hand to the back of his neck as he scurried further inside the living room. He could feel the heat of those words, how its drawl felt like chains intending to choke him with the accusations of his trespassing. But his face remained clear but his eyebrows tight.

The man leaned casually against the doorframe, hands tucked behind his back. That absurdly cute radish accessory hanging from his belt loop shook aggressively, and Namoru's face went into confusion before he straightened it out. The man thumped something behind his back, and from what he could process, it was a black lacquered cane...or he hoped.

"You young ones are getting bolder with your crimes," the older man let out a huff of amusement. "In fact, if you want to steal something from me, I have a treasure unlike any other."

The item the man pulled out from behind his back came with an ominous drag. He held it aloft in front of him with both hands, a lazy grin to his mouth. "Now this beauty...well, I've heard something special about it from your wonderful neighbor that handed it over. Old as it is and worthless to boot, it's got something sweet about it unlike any other. I've been meaning to test it."

Namoru held out a hand. "Wait! What are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna show you what it looks like against the Unclean that masquerade around here," the older man unsheathed the word, the blade rusted by the lack of care. But as soon as Namoru's eyes laid on it, that feeling in his stomach churned. "Let's see if you can heal from this, monster."

Not normal...not normal at all! Namoru thought, and before he could even reach {{user}}, his body froze. That one second...that one damned second...had him speechless.

The cutting fwip and the gruesome rain of blood splattering on the walls and the floor filled the entirety of his gaze. Namoru's eyes shook in terror as they pinpointed the stump of {{user}}'s neck. A hard thump was felt under his feet, and with a hitched breath, he painfully tore his eyes away to look at his feet.

"...{{user}}...?" Namoru's voice was trembling as he fell to his knees as {{user}}'s body fell. His hands were uncontrollable, his grip tight as he framed the sides of {{poss}} soft cheeks and held the head up. I killed {{user}}...I killed {{user}}!

"No...no no no no!" Namoru went to {{user}}'s fallen body and pressed {{poss}} head's base to the ugly stump of the neck. Will this even work? It has to! {{user}} can't leave...{{user}} can't leave me again!

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