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Being outside wasn’t something Cub entirely enjoyed. The sun beat too hard on his face, his body sticking to the fabrics he concealed himself in. There was always this incessant buzzing, the dirt squelching and shifting beneath his feet. The smells of fresh cut grass and the salty sea air assaulted his nose each day.
But here he was, sitting on a blanket laid out underneath a tree, seated beside his companion, Scar.
Scar was always fond of the outdoors. When not bound to his bed, he would often take walks through the woods, collecting plants and pine cones along his way. Sometimes he would pick up a feather or two, and tuck it into some of his clothing as a badge of his adventures.
Cub wouldn’t lie, either. The sun beat down on Scar’s body so beautifully, he was practically glowing. His fashion was never off, either. Beautiful summer dresses that blew in the wind, thin summer shirts that billowed over his body, and one could not forget the short shorts. Cub could never forget the short shorts.
Cub watched Scar. His face was pressed, emerald eyes scanning the terrain in a focused fever. Cub noted the soft wrinkles in his forehead, the slight divot in his bottom lip as he chewed on it under the cover of his other. His callous hands plucked at the ground beneath them. Cub leaned forward, trying to catch what Scar was holding.
“Have you ever made a flower crown, Cub?” Scar looked over, his face melting to that innocent curiosity he inherently held. Cub pressed his lips together, shaking his head.
“Can’t say I have.” He replied, bracing for the disappointment Scar may potentially have. But the sag of shoulders never came, his face unchanging. Scar looked back to his hands, Cub realizing he now held small daisies.
Cub would watch in awe as Scar began delicately twisting the stems of the flowers, hooking them into each other, chaining them into a lopsided circle. It was rough and messy, just as everything in this world was. But the proud smile that fluttered across Scar’s lips made Cub’s heart skip a beat.
“I’ve never made one either.” He replied, before shifting his body to face Cub. “But I wanted to try it out.”
Scar held the crown out, glancing down at it, and then back up to Cub’s head. Cub would lean forward, eyes closing as Scar gently placed his creation onto the other’s head. Cub pulled back up, a hand instinctively reaching up to touch the flowers woven together with such care.
“You look cute.” Scar smiled, lopsided and dorky, more genuine than Cub had ever seen before. Cub turned away, hiding his face as the flush creeped up his pale skin.
“Do you want to try making one, Cub?” Scar would place leftover daisies into Cub’s lap, looking at the other with expectant eyes. Of course, Cub couldn’t say no.
He was not used to working with such small things. His factory did most of the minor details, and when they were broken, he’d outsource the problem to be fixed. Safe to say, Cub was struggling. The stems slipping out of his fingers, hoops never staying looped, flowers pressed tight from the force of his sweaty palms.
Scar laid his hands over Cub’s, their eyes meeting as Cub looked up. With his soft smile never leaving, Scar would guide Cub’s hands, the two clumsily making another crown even wonkier than the one before.
“Sorry.” Cub mumbled, presenting it to Scar without looking from the shame of his failure.
“Sorry?” Scar echoed, taking the crown and placing it on his head without so much as a second thought. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is not.” Cub hummed, lips slightly downturned.
“Why not?” Scar asked, head tilting to the side. Innocently curious.
“It isn’t perfect.” Cub said.
“That doesn’t matter.” Scar replied. He took one of Cub’s hands, locking their fingers together despite how warm and sweaty both of them were. “It’s beautiful because you made it.”
Beautiful… because he made it? Cub blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise.
“Not everything is perfect, Cub.” Scar continued, tilting his head up towards the sun. His face was kissed by the golden rays, the lopsided crown a halo to his angelic appearance.
“That’s why I like being out here. Everything is so beautiful despite being imperfect.” Scar closed his eyes, a hum escaping his closed lips.
Scar then squeezed Cub’s hand, opening his eyes again to look over at his companion. “I know you’re not a fan of the outside. Do you want to go back now?”
Cub’s eyes drifted back to the flower crown atop Scar’s head. The flowers once sadly pressed together now had petals rising up with hope of staying free.
“I think…” Cub pressed his lips together, his gaze falling over the field beneath them. Soft petals danced through the grass, carried by the wind that gently wound through the air.
“I think I’d like to stay out here, just a little longer.” Scar’s smile grew, his head gently falling against Cub’s shoulder.
Cub still wasn’t a fan of nature. But perhaps he was beginning to see the beauty in what Scar called home.