Chapter Text
There are a ton of ways to receive flowers.
On your birthday.
On Valentine's Day.
As a congratulatory gift.
Or—
On your funeral.
Flowers weren't a gift that either of them had ever considered giving each other. Not even on their birthdays.
Chosen thinks they're nice. Pretty. Fragrant. Pleasant to look at, but that's just about it. The same could probably be said for Dark.
Although, if you had asked him years ago, the Dark that Chosen remembered would've cared far less.
Something as insignificant as flowers wouldn't have earned so much as a second glance. And even if they somehow did, they'd probably end up reduced to soot and ash.
Back then, explosions were his bouquets.
Towering bursts of fire unfurling across the sky. Violent flashes of light blossoming outward in brilliant colors. Smoke curling upward like dark petals carried by the wind.
Those were the only flowers that Dark ever seemed interested in cultivating.
Ah, Chosen remembered another occasion where you could receive flowers, anniversaries.
Today is August 18th.
The day of Dark's death.
Chosen stood outside a flower shop with his hood pulled up, scanning the flowers displayed behind the window as though he didn't already know the names of most of them.
He'd always thought that if he ever got a job, maybe he'd apply as a florist.
Tending to flowers just sounded so peaceful.
Water the plants, trim the stems, arrange bouquets, and help people find flowers for whatever occasion had brought them into the shop. He thinks he might've even been able to impress a few customers with his knowledge of flower language.
Or really, Chosen just wanted an excuse to infodump about it.
Still, he found himself lingering in front of the display for a little longer than necessary, eyes drifting from one arrangement to the next as he considered the flowers resting behind the glass, despite already having one in mind.
Chosen had only visited two, maybe three, other flower shops in the city, but this one in particular was his favorite.
He didn't think he'd even have a favorite florist.
The owner was kind enough to indulge in his endless questions whenever he wandered in. Maybe it was because the flowers were always well cared for. Or maybe it was simply because it felt comfortable here.
He didn't think their first hostile interaction would lead to this...ah yes, friendship. Much like Dark, he didn't think he'd need other friends outside of their circle.
The florist of this shop had almost recognized him as the Outernet's wanted terrorist. And the posters from Rocket Corp certainly didn't help him lay low in incognito either.
And much like any other civilian's reaction, her first initial impression of him was one of fear.
He must've been at his lowest at that day, when The Angel of Death was reduced to a Weeping Angel when he pathetically had a mental break down in the shop after explaining he just wanted some flowers.
Chosen's last stroke of luck that time was that there were no other customers in the shop to witness his breakdown. It was just him, the florist, and his embarrassingly lack of social skills while he struggled to remember the flowers he wanted to get. He was seriously considering to just bury himself next to Dark's grave.
And as his second stroke of luck that day, the florist surprisingly apologized for automatically assuming he was the terrorist from the posters, just because he's a hollowhead. In turn, the owner patiently showed him the variety of flowers in the shop until he found the ones he was looking for.
Initially, Chosen planned to steal the bouquet but he just couldn't. Not with the amount of kindness this florist showed him that no one has been able to give him in such a long time. So with the last of his pocket money, he paid for the bouquets.
The shop wasn't particularly large or extravagant. It didn't need to be.
There was just something about it that kept drawing him back. And so, every August 18th, he'd go back here and order the same boquets, and learn a thing or two about the languages of flowers.
Chosen’s gaze wandered through the interior of the shop from behind the glass, it eventually landed on the pink stickfigure behind the counter.
Their eyes met for a brief moment before the owner's face immediately brightened into a wide smile. The florist lifted a hand and gave him a large, enthusiastic wave from inside of the shop.
Chosen felt his shoulders loosen slightly.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he raised a hand in return, giving a wave back through the window.
The florist's smile widened.
She quickly handed the bouquet she had been wrapping over to the customer in front of them, exchanged a few final words, then immediately turned her attention back to Chosen.
With an enthusiastic gesture, she pointed toward the entrance and beckoned him inside.
Chosen couldn't help but huff out a quiet laugh.
There went any chance of pretending he was "just passing by."
Chosen pushed the door open, the small bell above it chiming softly as he stepped inside.
The customer that the florist had just finished serving was already making their way toward the exit. Chosen stepped aside to give them room to pass, offering a polite nod before continuing further into the shop.
The familiar scent of flowers immediately greeted him.
“Choco!”
“Tulip, it's good to see you.” he greeted back.
Tulip beamed.
She immediately opened her arms for a hug as she walked toward him, only for Chosen to freeze in his steps. Tulip halted as well, catching herself right in front of him.
A brief silence hung between them before she suddenly burst into small, amused giggles, shaking her head slightly as she looked at him.
“Still not a hugger I see.”
Chosen rolled his eyes.
“I'm not a tree Tulip.”
“Aww.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh before slightly spreading his arms.
“Alright. Just this once.”
“Yay!”
Tulip immediately closed the distance.
Chosen had to bend down slightly to accommodate the slight height difference as she wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. After a brief moment, he awkwardly returned it with a gentle pat on her back.
“You make it sound like I'm holding you at gunpoint every time I ask for one” Tulip laughed as she finally pulled away.
“You kind of do.”
“I just wanted my special ultra rare Choco hug.”
“It wouldn't be so special if you keep asking for one"
Tulip gasped in mock offense and promptly gave his shoulder a playful punch.
Before Chosen could defend himself, her cheerful expression returned.
“I've got your order ready in the back, and—”
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. Chosen instinctively bent down slightly.
“—I even saved that ribbon you like. Had to tell a customer we were out of stock.”
Tulip punctuated the confession with a wink.
Chosen couldn't help but chuckle.
“You didn't have to do that. Thanks, though.”
“Anything for my favorite regular! You always come here on this date,” Tulip said with a shrug, “I don't see why I shouldn't have your bouquet ready.”
She pointed toward the back room.
“Let me just go get it real quick.”
Tulip had already taken a few steps toward the back room before suddenly stopping.
“Oh! And if you're hungry, there are Oreos behind the counter. Help yourself!”
Before Chosen could argue, she disappeared through the back door.
He let out an amused huff and made his way behind the counter. Sure enough, there was an unopened pack sitting exactly where Tulip said it would be.
Well. It would be rude to ignore hospitality. And he likes oreos.
Chosen opened the pack, pulled out a cookie, and popped it into his mouth.
The bell above the door chimed.
He glanced up.
A young violet...or was their shade purple? Stickfigure had wandered into the shop. Chosen isn't really that good at remembering which shade is the correct color name. Maybe they're purple.
The stickfigure spent a moment browsing the shelves, drifting from arrangement to arrangement with the sort of aimless curiosity. He was fairly tall too, by his estimate, Chosen roughly guesses he's around his height, though still a few inches shorter.
Chosen couldn't tell if he was a teenager or a young adult.
Honestly, he couldn't tell kids these days.
Eventually, the stick's attention landed on him.
Or more specifically, behind him.
Every now and then, the purple stick would crane his neck slightly, trying to peek past Chosen and into the back room, expecting the owner to come back out at any second.
Every time he failed to spot any sign of Tulip, his posture seemed to deflate a little more.
Eventually, their eyes met.
The purple stick immediately looked away, only for his gaze to drift back a few seconds later. He lingered there this time, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His mouth opened as though he was about to say something, then promptly closed again. A few moments later, he tried a second time.
And a third.
Each attempt died before a single word could make it out.
The longer it went on, the more obvious it became that he was working up the courage to approach Chosen. His eyes kept darting between him and the back room, as if weighing two options in his head and desperately hoping the florist would return before he had to commit to either one.
Chosen sincerely hoped he wouldn't.
He didn't know how to handle kids.
Fortunately for him, the stick turned away and resumed browsing the flowers, absentmindedly waiting for Tulip to emerge from the back room.
Several minutes passed like that.
At some point, the purple stick had completely given up pretending to browse the flowers. He'd dropped the act minutes ago and was now lingering off to the side, arms loosely crossed as he waited. Every now and then, his gaze would drift past Chosen toward the back room.
Chosen reaches into the Oreo packet, just as he pops the third cookie into his mouth, he hears the purple stick let out a quiet sigh, pushed himself away from where he'd been standing, and finally marched over to the counter.
“Excuse me,” he began, speaking up for the first time. “I'm looking for a specific flower, and I'm not sure if you sell any of them here.”
Chosen's eyes widened.
oh creators-
He was still chewing.
Chosen immediately held up a finger, covering his mouth with his other hand as he hurriedly tried to finish the cookie. The customer blinked in confusion as Chosen silently motioned for him to wait.
A few awkward seconds later, Chosen finally swallowed.
“I'm sorry, but I don't—” He whipped his head toward the back room. “I'm only here for—”
His gaze bounced back to the customer.
“Uh.”
A beat passed.
Chosen took a breath. Fuck it, he's going to use his flower language knowledge.
“What's the occasion for?” he asked instead.
The purple stick visibly relaxed at the question.
“It's for my mom,” he said. “I'm visiting her grave today.”
The words made Chosen pause.
“I was hoping you might have some light pink flowers here,” he continued. “Something that kind of resembles cherry blossoms.”
Chosen's gaze drifted across the shop, scanning the displays as he mentally sorted through the flowers Tulip usually kept in stock.
A moment later, something caught his eye.
“Actually...” he murmured.
The purple stick immediately perked up.
Chosen pointed toward a display tucked away in one corner of the shop.
“Come with me.”
The customer followed as Chosen made his way over to the arrangement. Nestled among the other flowers was a cluster of pale pink carnations, their ruffled petals soft enough at a glance to vaguely resemble cherry blossoms.
Chosen crouched slightly to inspect them before gently lifting one of the stems.
“These are pink carnations.”
The purple stick leaned in closer.
“They're not cherry blossoms,” Chosen admitted, “but they're probably the closest thing you'll find here.”
His thumb lightly brushed one of the petals.
“In flower language, pink carnations usually symbolize gratitude, affection, and a mother's love.”
For the first time since approaching the counter, the purple stick went completely still.
Chosen continued quietly.
“They're one of the flowers most commonly associated with mothers, actually.”
His gaze lingered on the blooms for a moment before he offered the stem to the stranger.
“If you're visiting your mom today...” He glanced up at him. “I think she'd appreciate these.”
The purple stick nodded in acknowledgment and accepted the stem from Chosen.
He twirled the carnation between his fingers, studying the soft pink petals from different angles. A thoughtful hum escaped him as he considered it for a few moments.
“Their symbolism is perfect, but they're just...” he trailed off.
His gaze lingered on the flower for a moment longer. He absentmindedly twirled the stem between his fingers, brow furrowing.
“You really wanted cherry blossom looking ones, huh?” Chosen says.
The purple stick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
Chosen tilted his head.
“Well... if you're looking for something that actually resembles cherry blossoms.”
He glanced around the shop again before leading the purple stick toward another display.
“This might be closer.”
Nestled among the arrangements were several stems of waxflowers, clusters of small five-petaled blooms branching outward from thin woody stems.
The purple stick's eyes immediately lit up.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Chosen said, picking up one of the stems. “They're not cherry blossoms, but visually they're a lot closer.”
He turned the branch slightly so the other could see the tiny blossoms.
“In flower language, waxflowers are usually associated with lasting love, patience, and enduring memories.”
The purple stick carefully took the stem from him.
For a moment, he stood there comparing the waxflower to the pink carnation in his other hand, his gaze moving back and forth between the two.
Then his face scrunched up.
Slowly, his shoulders sank.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “It's just... it's not exactly what I want. It's not...mom.”
He held the flowers back out to Chosen.
“I'm sorry for wasting your time.”
Chosen hummed, accepting the flowers without complaint.
“It's alright. I get it.”
The purple stick looked up.
Chosen glanced down at the flower in his hand before absentmindedly smoothing one of the petals between his fingers.
“I've had quite a bit of trouble finding the right flowers too.”
Sometimes the flower could have the right meaning. Sometimes it could have the right appearance. But neither of those things made it the right flower.
Chosen understood that feeling more than he'd like to admit.
The young stick fell quiet for a moment. His hand drifted absentmindedly to the end of his braid, fingers fidgeting with it as he mulled over Chosen's words.
“Did you find the right ones?” he asked eventually.
Chosen nodded.
“Yeah, but it took a while. At first, I didn't really understand why I was making such a big fuss over it.”
He glanced down at the carnation still in his hand.
“But eventually, I found the right ones.“
Chosen looked back at the young stick.
“Sorry we don't have the flowers you're looking for.”
The young stick immediately shook his head.
“No, it's fine.”
He looked down at the flowers in Chosen's hands one last time before pulling out his phone. His fingers quickly tapped across the screen for a few seconds, typing something Chosen couldn't quite see.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, the back room door finally swung open.
“Got 'em!”
Tulip emerged carrying a bouquet of deep red carnations.
As she strode toward them, the young stick suddenly perked up.
“Oh!”
He quickly slipped his phone away.
“Thanks for the help, mister!”
Before Chosen could properly respond, the young stick was already hurrying toward the exit.
Chosen caught snippets of him muttering to himself as he passed.
The bell above the door chimed.
And just like that, he was gone.
Tulip slowed to a stop.
She watched the customer disappear down the street before slowly turning her head towards Chosen.
“Did you just cost me a customer?”
Chosen immediately panicked.
“N-No!” he blurted out. “I didn't! I'd never—”
Tulip broke into laughter. She nearly dropped the bouquet from how hard she was giggling.
“I'm merely kidding!”
Chosen let out a relieved sigh. Tulip shook her head, still smiling.
“So, why'd he leave?”
“He was looking for flowers that resembled cherry blossoms.”
“Ah.” Tulip nodded knowingly.
Chosen's gaze drifted toward the door.
He couldn't help but think back to what the young stick had been muttering on his way out.
Something about getting flowers in Minecraft.
Honestly, Chosen wasn't entirely sure what that meant. He had only been in the game once and he doesn't recall seeing any cherry blossoms there.
Tulip held the bouquet out toward him with both hands.
“Here!”
Chosen accepted it.
The bouquet was wrapped neatly in matte black paper, secured with a black ribbon edged in red. Nestled within were deep red carnations, carefully arranged so that not a single stem seemed out of place.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“They're beautiful. As always.”
Tulip visibly brightened at the compliment, puffing up slightly with pride.
“Thank you!”
Chosen's gaze lingered on the bouquet for another moment before flicking back up to her.
“What took you so long?”
The florist immediately winced.
“Oh.”
A sheepish laugh escaped her as she rubbed the back of her neck.
“...I had the flowers ready and everything, but then I realized I forgot to actually wrap them.” Tulip gave an awkward shrug, drawing the words out. “...Sooooo I just had a bunch of flowers sitting there.”
Chosen slowly narrowed his eyes.
The pink stick figure immediately wilted under the look. A nervous laugh escaped her as she rubbed the back of her neck.
“Sorry for leaving you out here for so long.”
“It's fine.”
Chosen adjusted his grip on the bouquet and lowered his head slightly, taking in the scent of the flowers.
The familiar fragrance immediately softened something in his expression. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Their vibrant color, paired with the petals layered upon one another with their delicately serrated edges, looked almost like tiny tongues of flame frozen in bloom. He couldn't explain why. They just... embodied him.
The florist's eyes narrowed mischievously at this.
Before Chosen could question it, she suddenly leaned sideways, practically bending herself in half just to catch his gaze from below.
“Sooo...” she began.
Chosen immediately knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.
“Choco,” Tulip said, dragging out the nickname with far too much enthusiasm. “You seeing anyone?”
Chosen froze. His smile vanished so fast, you'd think he's one of those expression changing keychains.
He stared down at her without blinking.
What the fuck “…What?” he said instead
“Oh, don't be shy!” Tulip waved a hand dismissively, straightening up “I've never seen you smile that much when you pick up your order.”
Chosen let out a low grunt and immediately looked away.
“I'm not seeing anyone.”
Tulip hummed. “Mmhm.”
“I mean it.”
“You never made changes to the bouquet until now.”
Chosen narrowed his eyes.
Tulip simply rocked back onto her heels, completely unconvinced.
“Are these bouquets for someone else?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“A crush?”
"No"
Tulip let out a gasp "Are you courting someone?!"
“Tulip.”
She immediately broke into laughter.
“Okay, okay! I'll stop.”
Chosen thought that would finally be the end of it.
But he should've known better because it wasn't.
“Well you've certainly been sleeping better,” she continued, circling around him “And I see waaaay less eye bags.” Tulip lifted a finger and made a small circular motion near Chosen's face before pointing directly beneath one of his eyes.
Chosen immediately pulled his hood down a little lower. Tulip simply shifted to the side to keep looking at him.
“C'mon,” she said, her grin widening. “I won't tease.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I might tease.”
Creators help him. He should've just went to another flower shop.
Chosen leveled her with a flat look.
“I'm getting my flowers in a different flower shop next time. The owner of this shop keeps harassing me”
"You're so mean."
Chosen couldn't help but breathe out a short laugh at that.
“C'mon!” she pressed. “At least tell me something about them!”
“He's none of your business.”
She immediately jabbed a finger toward him.
“Aha! So they're a he!”
Chosen immediately brought the bouquet up and hid the lower half of his face behind the flowers, becoming inexplicably bashful all of a sudden.
“Chocooo.”
Tulip immediately leaned to one side, craning her neck in an attempt to peek around the bouquet and catch a glimpse of his expression. Chosen reacted just as quickly, turning his head along with it so the flowers remained firmly between them.
Tulip leaned the other way.
Chosen turned again.
The florist's grin only grew wider, this scary stoic looking hollowhead is being such a big softie right now, she wouldn't have thought she'd see this adorable display from him.
“Choco" she called, barely holding back her laughter now.
Chosen stubbornly kept the bouquet in place, refusing to give her the satisfaction. The carnations did absolutely nothing to hide the way the tip of his ears had begun to warm.
The only response she received were a series of muffled, indignant grumbles from somewhere behind the carnations.
Tulip promptly burst into laughter.
Chosen couldn't understand why he was being so flustered over this. He's bought Dark flowers before!
—Well for his grave.
Tulip clasped her hands together beneath her chin. “He must be the sweetest, most amazing, wonderful, kindest stick—”
"SON OF A BITCH-"
Dark immediately dropped the soldering iron.
It clattered against the workbench, bounced once, then rolled off the edge and hit the floor.
“Ow—ow, ow—”
Dark jerked his hand back, hissing through clenched teeth. Trying to solder something one-handed was significantly harder than people gave it credit for. He'd been attempting to hold a small component steady against the edge of the desk while guiding the soldering iron at the same time.
It had worked, right up until now. And now there was a fresh burn across the side of his finger.
“Fantastic.”
Dark stuck the injured finger into his mouth and glared at the half-finished project sitting on his desk.
Chosen was supposed to be helping him right now, but first thing in the morning, he'd seemingly vanished from the house entirely.
So much for wanting to be part of the process.
Though, Dark supposed he could let it slide for now. Besides, he was already making decent progress.
One of the few smart decisions his past self had made was keeping the early Wristband of power prototypes and scrap designs instead of throwing them out. Most of the destructive features had long since been taken out, but the framework was still there. Which meant thankfully, they weren't starting from scratch.
Dark leaned back in his chair and glanced toward the collection of old schematics scattered across the desk.
For now, most of his attention was focused on convincing the prosthetic arm to behave like an actual arm.
Dark let out one last disgruntled hiss through his teeth before finally removing his finger from his mouth. Carefully, he bent down and retrieved the soldering iron from the floor as he returned it to its stand where it belonged.
Then, with a pointed glare, Dark flicked the power switch off.
He was done with soldering for the next five minutes.
Maybe ten.
Dark pushed himself out of his seat and stretched, raising his arm above his head as a series of pops traveled down his back and shoulders.
With one final stretch, he relaxed and let out a satisfied sigh.
His gaze drifted back toward the desk.
The messy desk of stuff staring back at him were a reminder of just how much work still needed to be done.
Realistically, he could do all of this by himself. He always had. But earlier's incident had also proven he needs Chosen's help would make things significantly easier.
Dark rubbed a finger against his chin in thought.
There had to be something that could speed all of this up.
Something that could handle the more tedious parts of the process, all that boring repetitive work. And the other tasks that would eat up hours of both his and Chosen's time.
But just what!
Dark's gaze slowly drifted back toward the cluttered shelves lining the walls.
Looks like he'll go through his old stuff again for some ideas.
Dark had barely taken a step when a familiar ache flared through the stump of his arm, making him stop in his steps.
The sensation came and went in waves, beginning as a faint tingling before settling into a dull ache somewhere in the hand his brain still stubbornly insisted was there. For a brief, almost irritating moment, it even felt as though his nonexistent fingers had curled into a fist.
Dark let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"...cursors"
Without thinking, he reached across with his remaining hand and rubbed absentmindedly at the end of his stump, thumb tracing slow circles over it.
The ache gradually eased into the background until it became little more than a nuisance, and Dark rolled his shoulder once before looking back toward the shelves.
His gaze lingered there briefly, then shifted toward the doorway.
Maybe some breakfast will do him good. And he wants bacon, lots of them.
Chosen slowly brought the bouquet out from behind his back, extending it with both hands.
“Dark...” he began quietly. “These are for you.”
The silence stretched on for far longer. The longer it dragged on, the more his confidence steadily leaked away. His fingers tightening ever so slightly around the wrapping as his smile began to deteriorate.
Eventually, his shoulders sagged and the bouquet slowly drooped along with them.
Chosen let out a long, pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut.
“No, no, no, that's not—” he dragged a hand down his face. “W-what I meant was, it’s…is—uh...” he stumbled over his own words, grimacing as he realized how incredibly awkward that must have sounded.
Chosen took a steadying breath and straightened his posture, cleared his throat, then raised the bouquet once more.
“Happy anniversary, Dark.”
Chosen managed…well tried to smile.
The corners of his mouth lifted into what was meant to be reassuring, though the slight crinkle around his eyes betrayed just how hard he was forcing it to not look awkward.
As the bouquet lingered, one lone carnation petal loosened from its place. It drifted lazily through the air before settling onto the ground at his feet.
He buried his face in one hand with a groan.
“Fuck—no! Why would I say that!”
Chosen dragged his hand down his face with an exhausted groan and his gaze fell to the bouquet.
There's nothing happy about today's date!
Chosen lowered the bouquet once more as he stared down at the carnations.
After another moment, he quietly lowered himself onto the ground. He set the bouquet down beside him before resting his forearms atop his knees.
“I need ideas... what would be the best thing to say?” he looks beside him.
The laser-etched gravestone simply stared back at him.
Chosen let out a slow, defeated sigh.
Leaning over slightly, he absentmindedly plucked a stubborn weed sprouting along the edge of the headstone. He twirled it lazily between his fingers, watching the tiny leaves spin around the stem.
“This is harder than I thought...” he murmured. “No... this is stupid.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Why did I think giving the real one flowers was a good idea?”
His gaze slowly settled on the weed in his hand.
“I couldn't possibly just hand these flowers to him and say...” He puts on an awkwardly cheerful voice. “‘Oh, hey Dark! Happy anniversary for the most traumatizing day of your life! Here are some flowers to commemorate it!’”
...
Chosen grimaced.
“Creators.”
Tiny flames quietly licked around his fingertips. The weed caught on fire instantly.
He watched it burn down to blackened ash before opening his fingers, letting the brittle remains drift away with the breeze.
Chosen had considered just leaving the bouquet here like he usually did, on the makeshift grave he made for Dark. But it felt... wrong. Not when Dark's actually back home doing...whatever creator only knows what he's up to.
For years, leaving flowers at his gravestone had been the only thing he could do.
Out of the corner of his eye, something small caught his attention.
A tiny black spider had emerged from somewhere behind the gravestone, carefully climbing its way to the top and it stopped.
For a brief moment, it almost looked as though it was staring directly at him.
Chosen blinked.
As if sitting alone talking to himself wasn't crazy enough.
He rested his chin against his hand before looking at the little spider.
“Hey... little dude.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Come listen to me vent?”
To Chosen's surprise, the tiny spider slowly lifted one of its spindly front legs that it almost looked like a wave.
Chosen's eyes widened.
A quiet huff escaped him as he dragged a hand back through his hair.
"...Maybe I am going crazy" he muttered.
The spider offered no objections, much to Chosen's imagination.
Chosen leaned back against the base of the gravestone.
“It's hard to believe this is all actually happening right now,” he admitted, his voice getting quieter. “Things are... getting better. Good things have been happening to me lately.”
His fingers absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve.
“And I'm scared that if I let myself celebrate too early...” He swallowed. “...something bad will happen, and it'll all just…be destroyed.”
He lowered his gaze instead, shuffling one boot through the dirt as he stared at the thin layer of dust clinging to the toe.
"...I'm scared."
A brief silence lingered quietly between him and the little spider.
Chosen wasn't entirely sure why he was venting to a spider. The poor arachnid had probably been minding its own business until he stopped it to play therapist for him.
He tipped his head back, letting his gaze drift toward the clouds lazily wandering across the sky.
Sometimes he wishes he could just be a cloud. Float and quietly observe the lives unfolding far below from the peaceful expanse above.
The only thing he'd have to worry about was the wind blowing him somewhere else.
Such a blissfully lazy life felt far too out of reach for someone like him.
Or perhaps he could just be like the little spider beside him, playing therapist with a lonesome stickfigure. Maybe that'd be nice.
Chosen couldn't help but let out a quiet breath of amusement.
“Hey... want to trade places with me—”
He turned his head toward the spider. Only to find the top of the gravestone completely empty.
“...Huh.”
He looked around for another moment, scanning the edges of the stone in case it had simply wandered out of sight, but there was no sign of it.
Looks like the session is over.
Chosen let out a small, amused huff through his nose before carefully picking the bouquet back up from the ground.
He supposed that was his sign to stop stalling and finally give the stupid flowers to Dark.
Cradling the bouquet carefully against his chest, Chosen made sure the wrapping covered as many of the blossoms as possible before flames ignited beneath his feet.
The fire lifted him smoothly off the ground, carrying him into the sky. He kept one arm wrapped securely around the bouquet, shielding the fragile carnations from the rushing air as he flew.