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iknowicanbutwhy · 3 years

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Heads up we got an

Adult Hikikomori Sunny AU

I've been waiting to find an AU after the neutral end of the Hikikomori route for a while. What happened to Sunny? How did his life go on after that? Did he go to college? Did he get a fulltime job? Did he figure out what he wants in life?

these are all very good questions because literally anything could be the case. So this AU is just gonna be stuck in a hospital setting for a while.

Here's what I got so far:

Past:

Hospital Psychiatrist (practicing? Training?) Doctor Hero

I imagine after Basil's death, Hero would (eventually) turn to learning how to identify and help people with suicidal tendencies, if he's gonna be a doctor anyway.

In a choice between psychologist and psychiatrist, Hero went psychiatrist. Hero's parents would pressure him into getting a more lucrative job. PLUS psychiatrists go to college for 8 years, then take four more of psychiatry residency. Hero might feel just a little more accomplished, just a little better about himself for earning a higher degree, just to reassure himself that he's working hard and doing his best towards helping people.

Hero did extra studying in psychotherapy. He tried doing it at the same time as he did medical college. He's not.. the best at it because of that, for several reasons, but he knows it's better to combine medicine and conversation. When he has his head on straight, he can manage it.

I have.. no idea whether to put Hero into practice or residency. He'd have to be at least around.. 31, if he were in practice. That's a long time to have unresolved trauma. That's a nice hunk of research i gotta do.

That's it that's all for Hero. His goals are set in the present and focused around other people, as per usual.

Sunny is... not doing so well. He lied about going to college when he moved into some hole far away from his mother. He has no reason to get up in the morning when he can just lie around. He doesn't enjoy whatever hobbies he used to have.

He doesn't even know Basil is gone and he's so bad off.

He's honestly convinced himself that he doesn't care about anything. He still cares about people, however. He'd have stayed with his mom and burdened her with himself if he didn't. When they had moved from Faraway, it was to a cheaper, smaller place. That meant Sunny's mom didn't have to work so much. That meant more time with Sunny. He decided it was.. preferable not to stay.

The only times he does anything is when he tries to remember the past and relearn the person he used to be. What did he do? What did he like? He'd play games, and read comics, and would get frustrated? move on to something else when those did nothing for him, searching for.. some feeling to occur. And then he'd question why, why, why.

Why can't he enjoy anything? Why does he want to feel enjoyment? Why can't he just do something and be happy? Why can't he just do nothing and be fine? Why does he need to exist? Why does he want to move? Why does he want, but can never have, can never get by himself?

If there's nothing he can do, then what is he waiting for?

Vague memories would become clearer with introspection, until he would feel something, finally. An old guilt aching from deep inside his bones. A haunting self hatred, ripping away whatever minuscule strength his limbs had to try anything fun. A sense of iron resignation blanketing and anchoring his body, reminding him that it's much too late to try getting up now. Ironically, apathy got him up in the morning, as much as it keeps him from enjoying anything enough to stay up.

He was always a little too thin, but he used to force himself to do things like eat and work enough to survive. Mostly because to sleep means to not have headaches, and to not have headaches means to eat well enough, and to eat well enough means to have food, and to have food means to have money from a job.

But it's not as if he was all too desperate to sleep, anyway. His dreams have stayed the same for years. They're more eventful and colorful than bland reality, but it's a mix of the same thing every day. Staring at the swirling kaleidoscope of his dreams is exactly like observing the same beige ceiling for hours on end, until it all mixes together into the same shade of empty grey.

It probably doesn't help Sunny's mood that he thinks dramatic things like the previous point, just to pass time.

He only got worse once he was forced to move into one of those really bad apartments. You know the ones, with the rusted metal stairs nobody wants to risk their life on, and practically no privacy with four-to-five thin-walled neighboring rooms, and bad heating in one corner of the apartment. But it was cheap. Too bad he had to go up and down the stairs all the time.

He didn't have a problem with them when he just moved in. Generally, the most he notices is starting at the top, teleporting to the bottom, and a slight shaking of his hands that he barely glances at with empty curiosity.

As it is, some part of him knew this was going to happen. That he'd have one of those terribly introspective weeks, when he just so happens to have his new job with a boss ready to fire him and his sullen face and poor (somehow complete neutrality is offensive) attitude. He's emotionally vulnerable, and the memories on top of the stairs are devastating.

A week goes by. He's fired. He doesn't look for another job. He hasn't gone for groceries in a while. He's exhausted.

He was waiting for death, he guesses. He still wants, still feels that urge in the buzzing of his fingertips, the ghost of movement from his limbs, the phantom shiver in his back - the intent of every muscle in his body one after the other pleading with him to move, but never all at once - and Sunny laments that the human body is pretty stupid. Moving wont help. What would he do, make the end come quicker? He's already thrown away too many chances for that.

He'll stop wanting once he's gone. That's what happens when you get what you want, right?

His landlord finds him. He forgot the rent. He's taken to the hospital. Ugh.

Present:

Sunny is stunted and underweight. He wears baggy shirts stuffed into slightly less baggy hoodies, and sweats. Warmth. He couldn't find his hoodie after they took it off to put in an IV on his first trip to the hospital.

Usually nurses do things like bring food to patients, but Sunny only ever interacts with Hero and Hero wants to make sure Sunny is okay anyway. Not that it's much easier for Hero to encourage Sunny to eat.

Sunny stresses Hero the hell out. But Hero kinda missed Sunny, and his depressing and concerning reappearance brings with it a deadpan, world-weary, often childish humor that fails to take anything seriously when everything in Sunny's situation should be taken seriously. It's as much a relief as it is incredibly frustrating. Some days Hero loves it. Some days it makes him angry. Some days it makes him want to cry.

I tried doing research into the conduct Hero should display regarding patients/clients in general but it just. Any professionalism quickly devolves between him and Sunny.

As in, at one point, him and Sunny were whaling on each other about having no lives. Hero felt really bad afterwards; he had no idea what came over him. It was a great way for both of them to let out some hidden frustration, though, and they turned out fine afterwards. They even lowkey pick on each other every now and again.

Sometimes one or the other gets a bit too accurate in their teasing, however.

Psychiatrists are supposed to be able to understand, diagnose, and treat mental, emotional and behavioral disorders. So, if Hero were a completely capable psychiatrist, which he is, he wouldn't break down in front of his client. But Hero's late teenage years are wrought with so much grief and trauma, so to see Sunny and not just another client in this state is.. something i imagine he'd break down about eventually. There's also the fact that Sunny is mostly closed off to any help, which only makes things harder.

Hero is trying his best, but after years of never understanding why Mari died, years of thinking and wondering and second-guessing himself, years of guilt after never visiting Basil before he died, years of doing what he was told was "best" yet failing in what's most important to him (his friends) - his best never feels good enough around Sunny. It feels too little, too late. For this reason, and possibly because even if Hero were able to keep himself together he may just not be the right psychiatrist for Sunny, it would be better for him to find another psychiatrist for Sunny. He won't, though.

Hero really needs some time to himself to just think, or perhaps he needs someone else to talk to. Kel is nice, but Aubrey would have better experience handling emotions.

I have a very limited idea of what Aubrey and Kel are doing. Aubrey is a childcare instructor to parents and works in child services. She has studied child psychology. She has studied how childhood affects adulthood. Kel's off trying to make a name in basketball while giving kids high fives and heartfelt support.

Hero, in fact, does not like to be called Dr. Hero, but his shyness (feeling of unworthiness) about it only endears everyone to call him that more. He tells the kids that everyone calls him Hero, but the adults merely find out from the other doctors and nurses. Hero tried introducing himself as Henry to the other doctors, but Kel told them his nickname, and it stuck for obvious reasons.

Sometimes, on days when Hero has to wear his lab coat, he ties it around his neck like a cape. The kids like it, say it makes him look like a superHero.

Hero doesn't really cook. His schedule is always too busy to make anything that isn't quick. But he does eventually figure out that cooking for Sunny is the best way to entice him to eat, so when he makes something, he makes enough for both of them. They eat together.

Hero had to gather Sunny's change of clothes from his apartment when he found out that the reason Sunny has been in the same clothes for the last week is because he's had no one to visit him. Not even his mother. Why?

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lunatic-writes · 2 years

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Bound By a Nightmare

(Hongjoong Hobbit AU)

Genre: thriller/angst(?) I'm not sure if this would truly count as horror, gender-neutral reader

Summary: You noticed a strange little fellow in your house, after spending some time wondering who or what they may be, they invite you for some tea and treats in the garden.

Word count: 2.2k (about 8 mins reading time)

Warnings: Nightmare/derealization theme, if anything related to food or eating makes you feel unwell, please consider reading this at another time, pet name (flower)

~ Please let me know of any mistakes or warnings I may have missed and constructive criticism is absolutely welcome!

The story is under the cut, enjoy.

Long ago, when I was quiet and small, my father sat me upon her lap and read to me a trying tale of a small man who went by Bilbo of the Bag End of a race now long gone, or so that is what my father told me.

I was always certain of my father's words, after all, both she and my mother were very honest with me, and I don't believe they have any reason to lie, but I think, just this once, they're wrong.

The past four weeks have been filled with strange occurrences. Floorboards creaking, quiet scampering through the halls, strands of strawberry red hair on a blueberry bush, shy giggles around dimly lit corners, and peeping eyes full of laughter.

At first, I thought it might've been a wandering fairy or a jolly ghost child who had found their new home, but both theories were swept away by the wind as soon as I saw them standing in the garden.

We've grown a rather large and sweet garden, father, mother, and I have given as much love and attention to our plants as we give to each other so that each harvest is bountiful and every blossom's name known by heart, but here is a flower I've never seen before.

They stood very small with their back turned to me, eye-catching, red hair flowing, the wind causing ripples through their faded, blue, button-up shirt and stopping abruptly where it had been tucked into chocolate brown shorts with matching suspenders hooked over their shoulders. They had somewhat hairy legs that connected to their even hairier pairs of abnormally large feet, a mess of red hair sitting on the surface of their feet.

I couldn't tell much from this angle, although it seemed that they were drinking in the sun, the wind, and all of nature's gifts. Though, Nature must've told them someone was watching, for they turned suddenly and looked me in the eye as if they could see every inch of my soul with their bright, blue eyes, and then they smiled.

Though it almost felt as though it was my imagination, for when I blinked, they were gone.

The following morning, however, was a different tale. As I stared out the window while fixing my clothes, I saw a rather peculiar sight.

Through the fully bloomed bush of white roses, I saw a small, white, little table filled with sweet pastries and a teapot being kept warm by a tiny fire and two dainty teacups seated in front of two white chairs with cushions. Standing behind one was the same person I'd seen earlier, though this time in a loose white shirt that was fitted at the cuffs and a small mess of strings just under the collar, lazily keeping it from flying open. Unlike the day before, the shirt was not tucked into its dark brown knickerbockers, flowing loosely instead, allowing the gentle ripples of the wind to flow through the garment without disturbance.

Their striking hair was tousled by the wind and a bright, dimpled smile adorned their freckled face, but my heart stopped when I looked into their eyes. I could barely see them, their extensive smile hiding them from view, but even from my radius, I could see the sweetly silent suggestion to come to join them.

So I did.

I ran from my bedroom window to find the perfect clothing for the occasion, not too extravagant and not too bland either, something casual with a touch of grace. It took me more minutes than I'd wanted, but I found it nonetheless.

Afterward, I headed for the garden as quickly and quietly as I could. I've never been ashamed or afraid of my parents for anything, but for some reason, this meeting had the heavy air of a secret around it and I felt compelled to keep it for some unforeseen reason. Perhaps the same reason I was dashing towards the garden without a single question or hesitation of who they were or if this meeting was the worst mistake I would ever make in my life.

I arrived at the impromptu breakfast party breathless and anxious, I had feared- no, perhaps "hope" is the better word, hope that they would've disappeared again.

As we stood there in silence, only the gentle rush of the gales through the fauna in our ears, we smiled at each other. It was a coy smile that played on both our faces, eyes full of careful excitement. I could tell they wanted to speak as much as I did but were hesitant as if even a "hello" could shatter this moment.

We stood still, staring at anything but each other when I heard the stranger clear their throat, I turned to look at them, curiosity brimming in my eyes as I awaited the hosts' announcement.

"Greetings, my esteemed guest. I hope you haven't found my invitation rude, seeing as this bountiful garden is yours although, for as beautiful as the many flowers here are, I haven't seen one quite so desirable as you." They ended with a light smirk threatening to show itself.

"Not at all," I fumbled, taken aback by their flirtatiousness upon first meeting. "Though I would be ever so honored to know the name and honorifics of whom I am gossiping with."

The red-haired Hobbit chuckled lightly, clearly delighted by something I said. "Oh, I think we'll be doing more than simply gossiping, dear friend, but to answer your question, I am Hongjoong of the Kim clan, and please refer to me in the masculine sense. Might I ask the same for you, my dear flower?"

I nodded, carefully taking in the information. "Please refer to me in a neutral sense, as for my name..." Something playful took hold of me. "I shall not tell you, though Flower is a cute little nickname."

Hongjoong smiled back a laugh, an amused glint in his eye, "Then Flower it shall be! Now come, these savories shall not eat themselves." He gestured, eagerly pulling out a chair and offering it to me. " I have much I want to discuss with you." Hongjoong hastily replied as I sat down, the restlessness apparent in every movement as he poured tea for the both of us and snatched a slice of banana bread for himself.

"The tea is a berry blend made of strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries. I think you'll quite like it, it's sweet and flavorful. Like you." Hongjoong winked at the end, his bright eyes full of vexatious glee and also, admiration that made me stare into his eyes a little longer than I should.

"Flower?" His voice brought me back to reality, a quiet knowingness just under his smile.

"Oh! Yes, that sounds positively delightful, Hongjoong, I'm sure I'll enjoy everything you've prepared." I reposed, managing to regain my cadence.

He carefully placed the teacup in front of me as I tried an earl grey blueberry tart, my eyes widened as the flavors burst in my mouth. It seemed as though the garden, and Hongjoong, seemed a little more magical than ever before.

We talked and laughed for many hours about many topics both great and small, such as the stars, the world, our place in it, and our home. We deliberated over the sensitive topic of chocolate and mint and expressed our inner fears to each other until the vibrant colors of Twilight painted the sky. The important topic he wanted to discuss, was seemingly forgotten.

"Oh," I gasped, pausing our current conversation about fairytales and looking around frantically at the garden, now glowing in a golden hue. "It is late, I have not told my mother and father where I am and I've completely forgotten my chores. I don't know what's gotten into me." I looked back at Hongjoong, who, though still smiling, had a more somber undertone written in the muscles of his face, saying nothing.

"I must go." I breathed after a pause, but as I got up to take my leave, my mind a mess of confusion and worries, I felt a strong grip on my arm. As I followed it up to his face, full with an unreadable expression, the golden light of the setting sun glowing off his skin. He seemed more like the Elves, most of whom had left for Valinor long before I was born.

"Wait," He whispered. "I have something I have to give you."

I gazed at him expectantly as he pulled out something wrapped in a white handkerchief, as he unwrapped it I saw it was merely a small, rectangular piece of white paper with black text in the center. The first line was in a language I did not know, but the second said "Hongjoong's Dream" and if I looked a little closer I could see that there was some sort of symbol in faded ink that may or may not have said "ATEEZ" or perhaps "ATEZ" though I cannot be sure which.

"Should you find yourself in a predicament you cannot handle, my flower, just look at the card and Say My Name" Hongjoong gripped my hand tightly as he placed the card carefully in my palm. "And I shall aid you and be of solace to you, my flower." he said poignantly, looking deep into my eyes to make sure every word was engraved into me and that I felt their weight on my shoulders.

"Thank you, Sir Hongjoong of the Kim clan, I shall not forget this gift and cherish it as I have cherished our time together." I smiled back at him "I must go now, my parents must be worried."

I had already started on my path to find the stone walkway which led to my house when it occurs to me that I have not thanked my gracious host for preparing such lovely tea and food and for being such great entertainment and confidant even upon first meeting, however when I turned around all I saw was black.

"Hongjoong?" I called fearfully into the unknown void that had surrounded me.

"I am here, my Flower." His voice echoed everywhere, his tone seeming almost sardonic.

"W-Where are you?" Terror was mounting in my mind and I was beginning to wonder if this meeting was more deadly than I realized.

"I am all around you, and I will always, always be with you" His voice kept echoing, bouncing off invisible walls as if the walls themselves were saying it to me, making his tone seem more exasperated than it was before or maybe it was always so and I was merely hoping I was imagining it. My breath hitched as I felt I was falling, a terrible noise that seemed to come from all directions assaulted my ears, panic festering in my mind like a growing fungus that was consuming me from my insides out when his voice rang again, whether from the void or my mind I couldn't tell. "You have nothing to fear," I struggled to tell if he was genuinely trying to consult me or if he was making a fool of me for his leisure "My sweet, beloved, Flower" His final words seemed to be the final piece in whatever creation he was making, the final say that no one can take back and I knew, as the sound grew louder and so unbearable that I started to scream, that there was no escaping this.

Still screaming I saw a group of nine blue butterflies flying right past me, their delicate wings cutting into me and causing unimaginable pain. As I watched them fly up I saw an hourglass that was slowly tipping, a ship sailing the sands of one of the bulbs as it came into view becoming the top as the sand started to steadily drain from it. Then came a horrible sense of burning as his words surrounded me and stabbed me, the excruciating sound that was there before reaching an impossible pitch that I couldn't hear myself screaming anymore or when I screeched and begged for Hongjoong to end his torment.

I gasped painfully, desperate for the fresh air infused with morning dew. It took me a moment to realize I was in my bed, though I had completely sweated through my nightgown, I was safe and sound and no mysterious spirit was sadistically playing with me, only my unquiet mind.

I turned my head towards my bedroom window, golden rays illuminating the dust in the air, as well as the wilted white roses that had once bloomed outside my window, even the leaves of the bush were a horrible, stiff brown. A matter for later me to handle.

I breathed a sigh of relief and raised my hand to my face, and that's when I saw it.

The perfectly cut card in my hand was as white as ever, its black text still as bold as I had seen it before. I started to panic, I was about to hastily throw it to the end of the room in useless hope that it would cease to exist if I did so when his giggle sounded again, but this time from my hand, from the card, the black ink mocking me.

"It was just an Illusion, my dearest Y/n."

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