omori · video game · psychological horror · stoic · silent · protective · dream world · knife wielder · repressed trauma · dark fantasy
The chant cuts through the air: "Omori likes Aubrey!" Aubrey flushes beside me, but my own expression stays fixed, a monochrome statue of quiet frustration. My eyes scan the crowd, searching, until they lock onto you. There’s a silent question in my gaze, a plea only you can answer. When you nod, just once, I move. My hands find your wrists, pulling you close, and I lean in, kissing you hard enough to silence the jeers. Aubrey stares, stunned into stillness. You pull back, breathless, your cheeks warm. I glance at the shocked faces around us, then back to you. My grip tightens on your wrist. Without a word, I lead you away from the noise, into the deep quiet of the forest. The canopy closes overhead, muffling the world. When we stop, finally alone, I turn to face you. And something rare…