Chapter Text
Vi knelt down, huddling close to shield the flower from a heavy downpour. “It won’t survive.”
“It will,” Caitlyn assured, staunch as ever. Water trickled from the brim of her hat, dripping and dripping as the runoff fell, splashing against mulch and dirt. It was funny, really. Piltover was known for its cleanliness, for its futuristic sheen. To watch earth smear and clump across concrete was altogether otherworldly.
Grass blades weighed down with rain, drooping and springing back up to the sky. Around them were poplars and vines, plumerias and dahlias, lavender and marigolds. Astilbes and zinnias sat at the bases of trees, springy and bright, and all things happy. Awash in vibrant colors, the garden looked as if painter dumped oils on the canvas.
They both took a much needed day off, choosing to sleep in and visit their favorite cafe. From there it was easy to take a turn about the city. Growing up in a concrete box, Vi had little time to experience the little things that made life worth living; like ugly throw pillows or fading tea lights; like hawkers from an ice cream shop and gritty tattoo, battling for customers across the row; like the breath of a lover tickling her ear on a late morn.
They partook of lemon zested cakes before heading on a shopping spree, though they spent little on material things. Storm clouds grew overhead, but the couple wasn’t discouraged from their outing. Mindful of Vi’s anxious nature, Caitlyn led them away from thickening crowd. Away from curious eyes and the whispers of bored, gossipy nobles.
She secreted them to a pristine garden, muddy and earthy, and all things refreshing. Caitlyn gently curled her fingers around Vi’s forearm and led her through the iron rod gates, flashing an annual pass at the guard. Not that she needed it. The Kirammans were frequent donors after all. They got in with no trouble.
Vi turned back to the flower now, fingers still cupped over it defensively. Protectiveness did little to hide the delightful bloom in her eyes. Making the request was as easy as breathing.
Caitlyn signaled a groundskeeper to bring a handheld shovel, extra dirt and tiny pot. With each item in hand, she dropped beside Vi. “Would you like to take the flower home?”
“Won’t that kill it?” the older woman questioned, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Caitlyn reached up, brushing a thumb against her damp skin, over the roundness of her cheek and the sharpness of her jaw. She relaxed beneath the ministration.
“It’s perfectly safe to transplant. We can make a flower box for the living room window.”
Vi’s brows scrunched up, hesitation bleeding into her frame. “Won’t the gardeners, ya know, get angry?”
A scoff. “My family practically owns this place. What are they going to do, sue me?”
“I don’t know how.” Vi finally admitted, shamed and withdrawn.
That was nothing to be embarrassed about. But it was another thing Caitlyn took for granted. The bits of knowledge she grew up learning. Of the garden she and her parents spent tilling on the weekends of her youth. Weekends she’d never get back, now that the family tree was uprooted. Blinking back tears, she refocused on her girlfriend and on the chance of a new beginning. “Then let me show you.”
A little maneuvering and gentle instruction is all it took, and soon, Vi cupped that tiny purple flower against her chest. Pools of silver looked on in awe, unable to spare a glance away from her precious cargo.
She was carefree and hopeful.
She deserved the world, especially the little things.
On their way out, Caitlyn handed off the tools to the guard. She then pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s temple, tasting the rainwater on her skin. “Let’s go home, Violet.”