Chapter Text
The humid air carries the scent of flowers. The sun barely filters down to this level, he wonders how they grow. Rude watches the hard set of her jaw, the furrowed line of her brows. Maybe they’re born of her sheer determination.
But it’s a lost cause.
“You can’t escape this,” he tells her.
“Maybe not. But neither can you,” she says while his stomach twists. “How do you want to be remembered, Rude?”
He doesn’t answer.
“I think you want to be a hero.”
She tucks a bloom in his pocket. For a moment, he wishes he could be.