12 years after the good ending of OMORI, Hero reflects on the unexpected turns his life has taken. He wasn't the same person he used to be and knew he would never be that person again. After such a devastating loss, he had truly believed he could never be happy again, but things were different now...
OR Hero finds healing and loves again (the abridged version).
Past Hero/Mari and Current Hero/Zoey (OC) Slice of Life, Romance, and Hurt/Comfort.
Rated G. Spoilers for OMORI and some discussion of canonical character death, grief and mourning.
Word Count: 4,950. Full Text Below the Cut. Link to the Work on AO3.
A/N: Both of us creators are passionate Hero/Mari shippers, but we are also huge believers that Hero deserves to be happy and that Mari would want him to be happy. He might not ever be ready to move on and might not ever want a romantic relationship like that again, but if he did, this story is just a little glimpse into what we hope it would be like. It's a delicate situation, and we hope this little story has done justice to his grief and the kinds of struggles he would experience in moving on while also realizing it doesn't mean he has to forget.
This story includes specific references to the other stories in the "When Sun Shines Again" series (particularly "Am I Ready For Love Or Maybe Just A Best Friend?"), but this should stand alone and work as a sort of abridged version and epilogue to everything else so reading the other stories is unnecessary. The cover is Mod Sprinkles' art with the title graphics free to use from Canva. Thanks for reading! ☂️
“I missed this, you know…”
With a flick of the spatula, Hero flipped the egg he was currently frying, but he smiled—turning to Zoey with warm, affectionate eyes. “Yeah, me too. It’s been too long. Sorry…” He sighed wearily as he stirred the sauce for his chilaquiles. “We used to have brunch all the time…”
His voice trailed as he thought of the pediatric PM&R residency that had been running him ragged for the past five years leaving barely any time for anything else. Gone were the days of making brunch every Sunday for his friends like he had back in college. Most days he couldn’t even find the time to make himself a sandwich.
Zoey chuckled as she tucked a piece of short red hair behind her ear. “I meant I missed you, Hero—not brunch.” As she leaned over the counter, her light, teasing laugh wrinkled her freckled nose. “I would have been perfectly happy picking something up from that bagel place down the street and just sitting here doing nothing. You didn’t have to cook for me on your only morning off this week.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” he insisted with a gentle smile as he met her green eyes. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”
“It’s okay. You’re a medical resident,” she replied in that matter-of-fact way of hers. “I don’t expect to see you.”
Hero sighed heavily. He supposed she had a point. Residency was…a lot. Truthfully, he felt like he didn’t see anybody anymore. Something guiltily coiled in his stomach as he thought about his missed calls from Kel or Sally’s dance recital he had had to skip out on. He had rescheduled on his parents about half-a-dozen times when they had wanted him to go through some boxes of his stuff they had found in their garage, and he had missed Sunny’s daughter’s first birthday when he just couldn’t get out of work.
Despite his best efforts to be present for his loved ones, he had to develop a code system to classify emergencies. These days it was nearly impossible to get ahold of him unless someone texted him “Tea Time” indicating they needed immediate assistance that just couldn’t wait.
It was Zoey’s idea, but she had never used it.
If Hero was being honest, that made him feel particularly guilty. He couldn’t stand the fact that he felt spread so thin he didn’t have much left over to give her. She didn’t seem to mind though—usually shrugged it off with insistences that she was busy with her own career too, her dream job: building bridges as a civil engineer. Perhaps that was part of what worked for them. She was so independent—never needed what he couldn’t give her, but that didn’t mean he wanted that for her. He couldn’t help but feel she deserved so much better, so much more than what he had to offer…and not just in terms of his time and attention.
“You have to work again this afternoon, right?” asked Zoey pulling him out of his thoughts. When he nodded, she added, “Just don’t wear yourself out, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.”
As he turned to crack another egg, he caught sight of Zoey’s hard hat on the counter. “Do you have to work today too?”
She shrugged. “Technically no, but I said I’d swing by the building site.”
“In this weather?” Hero’s brow furrowed as he glanced out the window watching the violent pattering of the rain against the glass. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“It’s fine. I have an umbrella.” She waved her hand dismissively motioning to the corner where she had placed the familiar red umbrella she had let him borrow the night they officially met twelve years ago. It was hard to believe it had been that long. “Besides you know I don’t mind the rain,” she added with a smile. “And this helmet’s water resistant.”
“Nice hat,” Hero gently teased—the slightest twitch of a smile curling in the corners of his mouth as she playfully nestled the thick plastic rim into her short red hair.
“You really do love this hard hat, don’t you? You want to try it on or something?”
Hero laughed but shook his head. “I’m not sure it would look nearly as good on me.”
Zoey’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh but everything looks good on you, Mr. Prince,” she quipped, and Hero couldn’t stifle his laugh at her use of the rather cheeky nickname she had given him back in their undergrad. He was honestly surprised it had stuck around this long—though these days she only used it when she was playfully teasing him. “Even those bright green scrubs. I’m going to miss them when you’re not a resident anymore, you know?”
Hero chuckled but sighed as he adjusted his shirt under his apron—medical resident green as Aubrey probably would have said. He had honestly forgotten he was wearing scrubs right now as he had been planning to change into different ones right before he left for the hospital, but they had been the only thing clean in his closet. He really needed to do laundry though he didn’t mind scrubs and definitely hadn’t minded the color. Still he conceded, “I think the lab coat will be better. Just a few more weeks of these. It’s honestly kind of hard to believe it’s almost over.”
Zoey chuckled then dryly teased, “What are you going to do with all that extra time?”
Hero tilted his head. “I have a few ideas…”
“Is one of them getting a good night’s sleep? Because I think you should bump that up to the top of the list.”
“Yeah…” he chuckled before giving the sauce another stir and flipping his eggs. That wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. Instead he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought about his Mamá Alma’s engagement ring he had recently picked up from his safety deposit box at the bank. When his grandmother had given it to him years ago, he had honestly thought he would never use it, but despite his protests that he could never love again and her beautiful jewelry would waste away in a vault forever, she had just patted his cheek calling him ‘concinerito’ just like she used to do when he was a little boy and said, ‘El corazón hace espacio’—‘the heart makes room.’
For a very long time he hadn’t really believed that or at least, hadn’t really understood it, but, as unbelievable as it was, things were different now.
Zoey had been his best friend for over a decade, and he had loved her for years without realizing it or, rather, without being ready to accept it. Even though everyone they knew would have insisted it was a long time coming by the time he had finally asked her out for a cup of coffee three years ago, it still didn’t seem real. When Mari had died, Hero had genuinely believed he never would and never even could feel that way about anyone ever again, and truthfully, he had been planning to never really move on. But…there was just something about Zoey. To this day, he still couldn’t even begin to describe or explain the way he felt about her—the way she made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel anymore. The way her smile healed something in him. The way he could look into her eyes and see a future, a life he had never imagined was possible for him anymore. The way she made him believe he could be happy again—made him believe he could love again.
There was no one else in the world like her. She was brilliant, driven, and really spunky—a little rough around the edges but so empathetic, so much softer than she wanted people to know and an amazing friend. Back in college when he never would have imagined he would eventually date her, they used to stay up until all hours of the night making sandwiches and drinking tea whenever their fraternity and sorority hosted parties and they’d just talk for hours about anything, everything. She was so passionate, especially about bridges and her dreams of wanting to build them someday. Hero could have listened to her talk about it forever even though he didn’t know the first thing about engineering. Perhaps even more than that, she was easy to talk to too—had this way of seeing through him. It was vulnerable but safe. He found himself telling her things that he could never tell anyone else—things about himself, his life, his family, and his past: mistakes, regrets, fears, even his grief.
He’d never forget the first time he told her about Mari. It was the first time that he had ever told anyone who hadn’t known her about it, and he didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what she would say. In his wildest dreams, he would have never imagined she would cry for him, hold him, tell him that she wished he had gotten to have his “forever” with her. He was so moved just thinking about it, and to this day, he could barely believe that someone could care that much, could love him that much after everything. It was more than he felt he deserved. And she deserved everything—deserved so much more than he had to give her.
He would give her anything, everything that he had to give—would do anything to make her happy, but he couldn’t help but worry it wasn’t enough. Even though he loved her in a way he had never believed he could love someone again, the truth was his heart was a lot more broken and bruised than it used to be. He was a lot more broken and bruised than he used to be. He just wasn’t the same person that he was before, but he desperately wished he could be that person for her, the kind of person she deserved—someone whole.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head and a kind smile. Hero nodded.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sentimental, I guess.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss all the insane hours and marathon shifts?” she teased, and Hero chuckled, somewhat grateful she didn’t quite know what he was getting sentimental about.
“No. I’m definitely looking forward to having a normal schedule for a change and consistent days off.” Or so he hoped anyway…but he didn’t add that part. Instead he turned off the stove’s burner and poured his salsa over the plates of tortillas, then topped with fried eggs before he handed one of the dishes to Zoey.
“This is delicious,” she said between forkfuls as he took a seat across from her at the table. “Though I expected nothing less from you.”
Hero’s mouth curved into a bright but almost bashful smile as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s not that great. I’m kind of out of practice…”
Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him somewhat affectionately. “I can’t imagine what ‘in practice’ would taste like,” she quipped before she took another bite with a satisfied hum. “Do you ever think you could’ve been a chef in another life?”
Hero chuckled lightly, but he shrugged as the slightest smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “I wanted to be—back when I was a kid…” He paused, sighed. He knew she already knew that—already knew everything about him, but she didn’t seem to mind him repeating himself. He could feel her hand reach across the table to gently cover his until their fingers intertwined, until he looked up at her and met her bright green eyes—inquisitive but kind…and knowing as if she could see right through him and understood the bittersweet weight behind those words. As she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he squeezed her hand and added, “But I don’t want that anymore...”
“Think you’d be even more stressed as a chef?”
“Probably.” His lips twitched before he took a bite of his chilaquiles. “And you’d see even less of me.”
Hero couldn’t help but smile at the way she stifled a laugh as she caught his dry joke. Zoey tilted her head at him. “What do you want now?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.
His cheeks grew warm as he thought of that ring again, but he dryly quipped, “A good night’s sleep.”
She laughed aloud this time—her smile reaching her green eyes until she bantered, “Well don’t set the bar too high. Gotta keep those wildest dreams in perspective, you know? Make them attainable.” Despite the dryness of her delivery, she couldn’t quite hold back her smile. As Hero laughed, her expression softened. “You really do deserve some rest, Mr. Prince. Just because you can function on three hours of sleep, doesn’t mean you should. It shouldn’t be a dream—it’s pretty fixable.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kel…”
Zoey shrugged. “I’ve always said Scotty’s got a lot on the ball,” she said using the nickname she had given Kel over a decade ago on account of his penchant for fixing things. “It’s good advice, and I’m not just saying that because he agrees with me.” The tines of her fork scraped against her plate as she finished the last bite. She stared at her empty plate with a thoughtful hum. “Maybe I should head out—give you some time to take a nap before you have to work this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to stay, but I don’t think I’m going to sleep if you go so…don’t leave because of that.”
Zoey smiled but sighed. “Wishful thinking on my part, I guess.
A loud crash of thunder clanged outside the window, and she frowned. “I had better get going though—head over to the site before the weather gets any worse.”
With a brisk nod, Hero rose from his seat to help Zoey clear her dishes. “I’ve got it,” he insisted, but she somewhat playfully wrestled her plate away from him with a pointed frown.
“You cooked. I can clean up.”
As she quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, Hero sighed. He knew this look. It meant there was no point in arguing with her—not that he was much of an arguer to begin with. Still, he gently insisted, “At least let me help. It’ll be faster with both of us.”
Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes, but she shrugged. “If you insist…”
Hero nodded, grabbing his used pans and utensils and joining her at the sink. It was a little like déjà vu to be honest given how often they had done dishes together back in college—though Hero would be the first to admit it was much faster and much easier with a consistently functioning dishwasher.
As if she could somehow read his mind, she quipped, “Well this is familiar…” as she rinsed off their plates in foamy, soapy water. Chuckling, he gently nudged her with his shoulder as reached for a sponge to start scrubbing the remnants of fried eggs off his pan, and she let out a breathy laugh. “Can’t say I missed dishes too much—though they were always more fun with you.”
“Pretty sure that was you actually…” His mouth twitched into a kind smile. “You always thought of great things for us to talk about to help us pass the time.”
He could feel Zoey shift beside him, and she sighed as she intently scrubbed at the stained rim of the saucepan. “You know, there actually was something I wanted to talk to you about today…”
Hero hummed glancing at her over his shoulder as he loaded the silverware into dishwasher. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I wanted to ask you something…But you have to promise me you’re going to be honest.”
“Of course,” chuckled Hero, but Zoey didn’t laugh.
“I mean it. Don’t just say it��s fine because you think that’s what I want to hear.” She paused, and Hero could feel his face flush. “I don’t want to cross a line.”
His brow furrowing, Hero stopped loading the dishes and turned to look at her—meeting her eyes. “Zoey…” His voice hitched, and he could feel his hands trembling even as he tried to calm his breathing. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded with a slight, reassuring smile. “Yeah. Everything’s okay. I just…” Her voice trailed. She wouldn’t look up from the saucepan she was cleaning. “Do you think I could visit Mari’s grave sometime…?”
Hero froze. Of all the things she could have said, he would have never expected that. She had visited there with him several times in the past, but it was always as support for him when he was going there anyway. She had never asked to make a special trip before. It surprised him, but it didn’t necessarily feel like a bad thing. “Uh…yeah. Sure,” he stumbled running a hand through his hair. “I um…Gosh, I don’t know when I’m going to have another day off but when I finally finish up this residency and get a more consistent schedule I’m sure we can…”
“Hero,” she cut him off. “I meant, could I go alone? Would that be weird for you if I went to visit her sometime by myself?”
Something twisted in Hero’s chest. He didn’t know how to feel—didn’t really know what to say to that. It seemed so unexpected, but he didn’t think he had a problem with it. After all, Zoey knew a lot about Mari—not just from him but from Sunny and Kel too, even Aubrey and Basil. He supposed it could make sense that she might want to visit her…but the truth was, he really couldn’t understand why.
Unless…
He swallowed hard—biting down on his lip. He couldn’t even think it.
“Hero?” He felt her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Just forget it okay? It was a silly idea. There were just some things that I wanted to say to her, that’s all, but if it’s weird for you, I don’t want to cross that line.”
“No. No, it’s okay. It’s not weird for me, if that’s what you want to do. It’s just…” His voice trailed. He didn’t have the words for what he wanted to say, the question he wanted to ask. In a way, he was almost scared of it—scared of the answer. The truth.
He had tried to avoid it all this time. While he had told her a lot about Mari, he had tried so hard to keep it focused on him and his grief—on how he felt when she died, how he had blamed himself, how it had wreaked havoc on his relationships with the people he had cared about most, how it nearly destroyed him and how he had never thought he could ever be happy again. But she popped up in his stories sometimes and he had told Zoey the most basic things about her that she was kind, smart, and talented, she played piano and was cheerful and warm, the kind of person you could always count on to be on your side or to brighten your day oftentimes just by smiling because when she smiled you would’ve sworn the sun shined brighter.
Zoey knew that he loved Mari, that a part of him would probably always love her. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, but it had been so hard for him to make peace with that in himself. Even now, there were times when he second-guessed himself, felt guilty that his heart was so broken and bruised—that he couldn’t give her everything that he felt she deserved. He desperately wrestled with the fear he wasn’t enough, with the feeling that it wasn’t fair to her that despite how much he loved her and would have done anything for her it would be impossible for him to ever say that she had been the one and only love of his life. He was terrified that she would feel slighted—that she’d compare herself to Mari and feel trapped in her shadow, feel like she was only a second choice or a last resort.
His heart ached when he thought about it—thought about how he could never be the kind of person that Zoey truly deserved: the person he had once been, in that other life before Mari’s death, but that person had died with her and no amount of healing could ever bring him back. There was so little he had to give anymore though he would give Zoey the world if he could. It was so hard to believe his painfully pieced together heart was worth much of anything—even though he loved her with every inch, every crack, every crevice, ever bruise and broken edge of it. He loved her more than he had ever imagined he would or even could love someone again. It wasn’t better or worse or more or less, just so different from the way he had loved Mari. He just wasn’t sure that was enough.
And now…he didn’t know if she was sure either. What else could she possibly want to say to Mari without him there than that she was just playing second fiddle, just taking her leftovers, just standing in as a last resort.
“Zoey, I…” Hero’s eyes burned as the words got caught in the back of his throat, but he eventually choked out a rambling, probably incoherent, “You know I never wanted you to feel like you had to compare yourself to Mari. I…If I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like…like you—like you’re…like you’re only a—”
“Stop.” She cut him off firm but kind. Hero bit his lip, but he wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “Look at me,” she said, but when he couldn’t bring himself to, her thumb traced gentle circles across his cheek. “Henry.”
He inhaled sharply, and something fluttered in his chest at the sound of his real name. She rarely ever used it—only when she wanted to remind him to stop being a “hero” and take care of himself or, he supposed, in times like these when she really wanted to get his attention. It had a weight and a gravity which was only intensified the minute he finally looked into her eyes and she said, “You have never made me feel like a second choice.”
He finally let go of the breath he was holding. In relief, his eyes fluttered closed, but he bit his lip. “I’m sorry…”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she insisted. “You know how I feel. We’ve talked about this.”
They had. Multiple times. But that didn’t ever take away the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that “You shouldn’t have to…”
Swallowing hard, he took a shaky breath and turned away from her. His shoulders twitched as he stared down at his hands with a bittersweet smile. “I just…I want more for you.”
“More than the perfect man? I’d really like to see that…” she quipped dryly. “And I’m flattered, but I don’t think that’s possible, Mr. Prince.”
His mouth curved into a smile in spite of himself, but he could feel his face growing warm. “I’m far from perfect…” he sheepishly insisted, rubbing his hand across the nape of his neck. “And…” His smile faded. “I’m serious, Zoey.”
“So am I.” Her voice was matter-of-fact—honest, but an affectionate smile curved in the corners of her mouth. “There is no one else like you. You know I still field calls from my old sorority sisters asking how I managed to bag prince charming.”
As Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, an awkward, disbelieving chuckle escaped Hero’s mouth. He buried his blushing face in his hands as Zoey continued, “Of course, I never dignify that with a response, but…” She shrugged. “If I did, the answer is really, ‘I have no idea.’”
Hero laughed in spite of himself, feeling very guilty for it, but Zoey didn’t seem to mind—just chuckled lightly herself and smiled at him until her expression and her voice softened. “Jokes aside though I…I honestly didn’t think it was ever going to happen. Not that it couldn’t—just that…I didn’t think you were ever going to be ready.”
He nodded. The truth was he hadn’t either.
“No one would’ve blamed you if you weren’t. I definitely wouldn’t have…Moving on—being ready for that…that’s all you. That’s your choice.” She paused and met his eyes. “And you chose that—you chose me. And that means more to me than the idea of us being cosmically destined soulmates or the one and only love of your life. I don’t need that. I don’t even want it, and I don’t want someone who can give that to me. I only…want to be with you.” Shaking her head, she laughed at herself muttering, “That’s so corny…”
Hero reached out his hand to her—pushing that one wild strand of hair out her face and pressing his palm to her cheek. “Mi vida…”
As she glanced up at him, he could only hope that the look in his eyes conveyed the deeper meaning of those words—conveyed everything he wanted to say every time he called her that. He didn’t use it often—didn’t really use terms of endearment much anymore. It felt wrong to call her the same things he had called Mari. He never called her ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ or his most precious name for Mari, ‘Mi corazón’: ‘my heart.’ But Zoey and only Zoey was ‘Mi vida’—‘My life.’ She liked it well enough—thought it was a pun because of her name. Zoey. Life. His life. A life he never dreamed he’d be able to have.
“I love you,” he said, and her bright green eyes smiled at him.
“I know you do. And you don’t have to try to prove it to me by pretending Mari never existed.” She broke away from his gaze and glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of old photographs of him and his friends hanging on his living room wall—memories of that other life and who he had used to be back when Mari was alive. It had been Zoey’s idea to hang them up, and she said now exactly what she had said then, “Moving on doesn’t mean having to forget, Hero.”
His heart ached at those words, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he held her until she sighed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t go.”
“No, I think you should,” Hero insisted. “I mean…if that’s something you want or need to do.”
“It is. But not for the reasons you think…” She sighed. “Not because I’m comparing myself to her or anything like that. I guess I just…I wanted to reassure her that I’d take care of you. That’s all.” She pulled away from him with a soft, affectionate, smile. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…really good.” His eyes grew misty, and his voice hitched. “Thank you.”
Her smile brightened, and it reached her eyes. He knew that she understood those words meant infinitely more than what he had said.
“Hero…” she began. “You know I love you, right?”
He nodded, but he couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?” she asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Anything.”
She tilted her head, pursing her lips together. “And you promise you won’t take it the wrong way?”
He swallowed hard—his hands beginning to shake again, but he managed, “I promise.”
Zoey took a deep breath—long and heavy. She stared at the picture of Hero and his friends in Faraway Park back before Mari had passed away—back before they were jaded, broken, before they had to learn how to be happy again. “Do you think she’d be happy for us?”
Hero’s chest ached, but a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He thought about the last time he had visited Mari. He had gone alone—stopped there after he had picked up his grandma’s engagement ring from the bank. He had wanted to know the same thing. It felt strange to look for that reassurance—to look for some kind of sign when he knew Mari couldn’t really answer him. But Mari had found a way. When he had told her about his plans—asked if she would be okay with that, there was strong gust of wind. It blew a twig off a nearby tree that hit him in the head. He had laughed. As if Mari was trying to tell him what a silly question that was—especially when he already knew the answer.
He hugged Zoey again—glancing off over her shoulder out the window where the sun was peeking through the clouds even despite the rain. As a certain warmth spread through his chest, he blinked the mist out of his eyes and whispered, “I know she would be.”
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