Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A young Basil found himself standing in the hardware store nestled within Faraway Plaza, tightly clutching a crumpled paper list as he embarked on a quest for gardening supplies for his beloved grandmother. He navigated his way toward the back room, where the greenhouse resided, enveloped by a cocoon of warm, humid air that caressed his skin. The rich, earthy aroma of moist soil mingled with the fresh scent of thriving plants, momentarily soothing his anxious thoughts.

As he carefully made his way down the narrow, cramped aisle, he took great care not to disturb the delicate, fragile plants that lined the path. His eyes danced over the neatly arranged pots of varying sizes and the assortment of gardening tools, each promising the potential for growth and life.

"Okay," he murmured to himself, glancing down at the wrinkled paper clutched in his trembling hand. "Just need to find... fertilizer and... oh, some new pruning shears." Before diving into the search for those specific items, his attention was drawn to the vibrant display of flowers. Basil began silently reciting their names, "Sunflowers, hollyhocks, gladioli, bearded iris..."

Lost in his botanical reverie, Basil gradually became aware that he was not alone in his admiration of the floral splendor. A young girl stood beside him, her eyes equally mesmerized by the same captivating bloom. She turned her gaze toward Basil, her face lighting up with a radiant smile.

"Hi."

Basil felt a flicker of recognition toward the girl, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint the connection. Perhaps she was a classmate, someone who shared the same grade at school, though they had never truly interacted.

As he fumbled for the right words, his heart began to race, and his mouth moved awkwardly, betraying his nervousness. The girl's cheerful smile only intensified his flustered state.

"H-h-hi," he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely rising above a whisper. His fingers twisted anxiously around the paper list, almost tearing it apart in his grip.

Seemingly unfazed by Basil's discomfort, the girl gestured toward the vibrant orange flower that had captured both their attentions. "Isn't it pretty? I think it's a marigold."

Basil nodded briskly. "Y-yes, it's... it's a Tagetes patula," he murmured, his passion for botany momentarily overshadowing his anxiety. "French marigold."

"Wow, you know a lot about flowers!" the girl exclaimed, her enthusiasm causing Basil to take a small, hesitant step back.

"I... I like plants," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as his eyes darted nervously around the room, a touch of embarrassment painting his cheeks after revealing what he thought was a trivial tidbit about himself.

The girl's eyes widened with intrigue. "That's so cool! I always forget the names of the plants my dad grows in our garden."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his movements awkward and uncertain, like a dancer unsure of the next step, worried about coming off as arrogant.

The girl's eyes sparkled with curiosity as her finger pointed towards a different type of flower. She was completely absorbed by its beauty. "What kind is this? A... Gladiolus? It reminds me of a lily, but it has a lot of them on one stem."

Basil's interest was piqued at her attempt and he eagerly chimed in, eager to share his knowledge. "Technically, Gladiolus belongs to the Iridaceae family, so they are considered Irises."

He paused, noticing a sneer form on the girl's face as she scoffed at his correction. Realizing he had come across as condescending, Basil quickly ended his explanation and shifted awkwardly under her disapproving gaze.

Basil's face flushed with shame, and he felt his chest tighten. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to... to sound..."

The girl's demeanor softened a bit, but her eyes still held a glint of annoyance. "It's okay," she said, her words sharp and clipped. "I suppose I was mistaken."

An uneasy silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the sound of a misting system turning on somewhere in the greenhouse. Basil's gaze darted around, searching for a way out of the uncomfortable situation he had caused.

"Um... what's your favorite flower?" The girl asked, clearly trying to keep the conversation going.

Basil's mind raced. He loved so many plants, but talking about his passions with strangers always made him nervous.

"I... I like l-lots of them," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "But m-maybe... sunflowers?"

Basil nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Y-yeah, they're... they're nice. Did you know they can grow over ten feet tall?"

"Wow?" The girl's eyes widened in amazement. "That's taller than my dad!"

For a moment, Basil felt a flicker of excitement at sharing his knowledge without being judged. But then, as quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished, replaced by a familiar sense of unease. He glanced down at the crumpled list in his hand, suddenly remembering why he was there.

"I... I should probably go," he mumbled, taking a hesitant step back. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if unsure of what to do next.

As he turned to leave, she quickly exclaimed, "Wait!"

He paused and turned back to face her, his expression changed.

"I forgot to tell you my name," she said with a shy smile. "My name is Aubrey."

Recognition sparked in his eyes. "Oh yeah! I think I have seen you at lunch break at school before."

Aubrey glanced up at the clock on the wall, her face suddenly filled with panic.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I didn't realize it was so late. I must have missed my curfew."

She hesitated, looking over at Basil with a grateful smile. "Thank you for talking to me about flowers. It was... pleasant."

"See you at school tomorrow, Aubrey!"

Basil watched as Aubrey hurried out of the greenhouse. He stood there for a moment, his heart beating fast from their unexpected conversation.

Basil shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his mind from the distracting thoughts. He needed to focus on the task at hand - picking up the items his grandmother needed. Traversing through the neatly organized aisles of the store, he scanned his eyes over the shelves, searching for the specific products.

As he reached for a bag of fertilizer, his hand trembled slightly from the weight of it. In a moment of panic, he almost dropped it but managed to steady his grip just in time.

"C-careful," he whispered to himself, taking a deep breath and regaining control of his nerves.

With determination fueling him, he paid for his purchases at the register and stepped out into the open air. The warm sun beat down on him as he made his way home, carefully balancing and maneuvering the heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. Each step felt like a small victory as he focused on reaching his destination without spilling or dropping anything.

The weight of the fertilizer bag grew heavier with each step, and Basil had to stop occasionally to readjust his grip. He was grateful for the physical exertion; it gave him something tangible to focus on instead of replaying the conversation over and over in his head.

Chapter Text

Basil's heavy eyelids fluttered open and he peered up at the ceiling before slowly taking in his surroundings. Wincing, he shifted on the bed, a dull ache pulsing through his body. As his mind cleared, he remembered where he was and sat up, feeling disoriented. After a few moments, his gaze wandered towards the window, drawn to the outside world. His eyes softened as they took in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees that lined the backyard path.

The horizon reminded him of something…

A distant memory, perhaps.

Basil swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing again as his feet touched the cool floor. He padded over to the window, drawn by an inexplicable urge to be closer to the light, to the life outside.

A gentle knock at the door startled him from his reverie. "Basil?" Polly's voice called softly. "Are you awake? I've made breakfast."

Basil hesitated,

"I'm... I'm awake," he called back, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse. "I'll be down in a minute."

He got dressed and walked down the hallway, seeing Polly in the kitchen.

"Good morning, dear," she said, gesturing to the table where a plate of scrambled eggs and toast waited. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm... okay," Basil murmured, sliding into his seat at the table. His eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the familiar sights - the potted herbs on the windowsill, the faded floral wallpaper, the gentle ticking of the old clock on the wall.

Polly watched him with concern, her brow furrowing slightly. "You know, Basil," she said gently, "it's such a lovely day outside. Perhaps after breakfast, you might like to spend some time in the garden? The Daylilies you planted last autumn are starting to bloom."

"I'm not sure if I'm up for it today," Basil replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He poked at his eggs with his fork, and his appetite suddenly diminished.

Polly's expression softened. "That's alright, dear. There's no rush. You take all the time you need."

Basil nodded, grateful for her understanding. As he forced himself to take a few bites of toast,

his mind drifted back to the garden. He could almost smell the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin as he tended to his plants. It had always been his sanctuary, a place where he could lose himself in the simple act of nurturing life.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Basil's head snapped up, his heart rate quickening at the unexpected sound. He glanced at Polly, who seemed equally surprised.

"I'll get it," Polly said, rising from her chair. "You finish your breakfast, dear."

Basil nodded, his eyes following Polly as she made her way to the front door. He strained to hear the muffled conversation, catching snippets of a familiar voice.

After a moment, Polly reappeared in the kitchen doorway, a hesitant smile on her face. "Basil, you have a visitor. It's Aubrey. She's asking if you'd like to take a walk with her."

"I... I don't know if I..." he stammered, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Basil's heart pounded as he searched for the right words. The idea of confronting Aubrey after all that had transpired made his hands clammy. Yet, Polly's gentle encouragement made him hesitate.

"Perhaps... it might be good for you," Polly suggested softly. "Just a brief walk. Some fresh air could help."

Inhaling deeply, Basil stepped outside, squinting as the bright sunlight struck his eyes. Aubrey was in the yard, her pink hair shining in the morning light. Her usual tough attitude seemed softened, almost unsure. Instead of her usual attire, she wore a grey hoodie and loose-fitting jeans.

"Hey," Aubrey said, her voice unusually soft.

"Hi," Basil responded, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted his weight, unsure of what to say or do next.

Aubrey cleared her throat. "I thought maybe we could walk to the park. If you want to, I mean."

Basil nodded slowly, still avoiding eye contact. They began to walk down the sidewalk, an awkward silence lingering between them. The soft rustle of leaves and distant bird songs filled the air.

As they strolled along the path, Basil couldn't resist sneaking glances at Aubrey. Her usual confident stride had transformed into a hesitant gait, her hands buried deep within her pockets as if seeking refuge from the world. The silence between them was palpable, heavy with unspoken words and a tapestry of shared memories.

Upon reaching the park, they were greeted by its familiar green expanse, a vibrant quilt of colorful flower beds interspersed with majestic ancient oak trees, their branches stretching skyward like wise sentinels. In the center of the playground stood the big yellow cat, its once-bright surface now smothered in a cloak of rust and cobwebs, a relic of bygone days.

Aubrey led them to their secret hangout spot, where the small lake's surface shimmered like liquid silver in the morning light. A gentle breeze kissed the water, creating ripples that danced in a mesmerizing ballet. Aubrey settled herself on the old wooden deck, its weathered planks creaking softly beneath her, and looked back at Basil with eyes that held a thousand stories.

Aubrey let out a groan, resting her head in her hands, her expression showing discomfort. "I've got such a terrible headache," she murmured.

Basil sneered and asked, "Is that why you called me over? To list your ailments?”

Aubrey shot a glare in his direction before speaking firmly, "I haven't forgotten how much of a smart-ass you can be, but that's not why I've brought you here."

“What is it you wanted to tell me?” Basil asked, his curiosity piqued as he nervously fiddled with the corners of the bridge.

Aubrey remained silent for a few moments, appearing unsure and embarrassed about how to proceed.

“Look, I-I…”

Her words trailed off.

“..Aubrey?”

Aubrey took a deep breath, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her hoodie. "I... I wanted you to teach me how to …g-grow flowers.”

Basil's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Aubrey's unexpected request. For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard her. "You... want me to teach you about gardening?" he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah, I... I've been thinking about it for a while now. I just want to do something nice around my house for once…”

"I... I'm not sure if I'd be a good teacher," Basil mumbled, his gaze fixed on the rippling water below. "But... I could try, I suppose."

Aubrey's expression softened, a hint of vulnerability showing through her usual tough exterior. "You're the best gardener I know, Basil. If anyone can teach me, it's you."

Basil felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. He looked up, meeting Aubrey's eyes for the first time since they'd arrived at the park.

“If you want, I can show you the flowers I have planted at my house?”

Aubrey's eyes lit up, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah, I'd like that," she said, her voice softening.

They stood up from the bridge, the awkwardness between them slowly dissipating. Walking to the sidewalk, they made their way back to Basil’s house.

Basil asked awkwardly, “Hey Aubrey, how's life been? Besides going to school and all that..." She paused briefly before responding, "It's not great, but I'm still here, walking with you."

As they approached the front door of his house, they noticed that Polly was out running errands. As a precaution, she had locked the door before leaving.

The two went behind the house and went through the house via the backdoor. He slipped off his shoes, and went into the kitchen, Aubrey carefully following behind.

“…Hey, Basil?”

Basil turned, his hand resting on the kitchen counter. "Yes?" he asked, his voice soft.

“Do you have any pain medication? I have the worst headache.”

"I think so. Let me check." He walked over to a cabinet above the sink, stretching to reach the top shelf. His fingers grazed several bottles before finding the one he was looking for. "Here," he said, turning back to Aubrey and offering her the bottle of aspirin.

Aubrey took it gratefully, her fingers brushing against his for a brief second. "Thanks," she murmured, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment before darting away.

Basil filled a glass with water and handed it to her.

As Aubrey swallowed the pills, Basil found himself studying her face. The tough exterior she usually wore seemed to have softened, revealing a vulnerability he hadn't seen in years. She had dark circles under her eyes, and the natural roots of her hair were growing more than ever.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, surprising himself with his boldness.

Aubrey set the glass down, her fingers tracing the rim. "I'm fine," she said automatically but then paused. "Actually... no.”

Aubrey's shoulders slumped as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "Things at home... they're not great," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom's been drinking more lately, and the house is just..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Basil felt a pang in his chest, remembering the glimpses he'd caught of Aubrey's home life over the years. "I'm sorry," he said softly, wishing he could do more to help.

Aubrey shrugged, trying to brush it off. "It's whatever. You can’t do anything about it, nor is it your fault.”

Basil hesitated, then took a tentative step closer to Aubrey. "Maybe... maybe the flowers could help," he suggested softly. "Even if it's just a small patch. It might make things feel a little brighter."

Aubrey looked up at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "You think so?"

Basil nodded, feeling a surge of confidence he hadn't experienced in a long time. "I know so. Plants have a way of bringing life to even the darkest places."

Aubrey spoke, “That’s what I was thinking originally, I wanted to learn how to plant stuff so I can brighten up my yard a bit.”

Basil was quiet for a bit, and then spoke in a happy tone. "Well, then let's start with something simple. Come on, I’ll show you what I have!”

Chapter Text

Basil led Aubrey out to the backyard, his steps growing more confident as they approached his garden. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and rich soil. Aubrey looked at all the flowers, seeming curious about which flower was which. 

Basil's eyes lit up as he pointed out different flowers, his usual shyness melting away as he shared his passion. "These are marigolds," he said, gesturing to a cluster of bright orange and yellow blossoms. "They're really easy to grow and they keep pests away from other plants."

"And these," Basil continued, moving to a patch of tall, multicolored flowers.

"These are snapdragons. They come in all sorts of colors and they're pretty hardy."

Aubrey acknowledged with a small nod before taking a seat on the plush grass near the flower beds. She shielded her eyes from the bright sun streaming through the overhead branches with her hand

Basil noticed Aubrey's discomfort and frowned slightly. "Are you okay? Is the headache still bothering you?"

Aubrey nodded, wincing a little. "Yeah, it's pretty bad. The sun's not helping either."

"We can go back inside if you want," Basil offered, his voice laced with concern.

"No, it's fine," Aubrey insisted, though her expression betrayed her discomfort. "I want to learn about the flowers. Just... maybe we could sit in the shade?"

Basil nodded, leading her to a spot under a large oak tree at the edge of the garden. They sat down on the cool grass, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above them.

"Better?" Basil asked softly.

"Yeah, thanks," Aubrey replied, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She moved her back forward wrapping her arm around her legs. Basil sat cross-legged beside her, his fingers absently tracing patterns in the grass. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdsong filling the air.

"You know," Basil began hesitantly, "there are some flowers that prefer shade.”

Aubrey

turned to look at him, her interest piqued. "Really? Like what?"

Basil's eyes lit up, grateful for her curiosity. "Well, there's hostas," he began, gesturing to a patch of large-leaved plants nearby. "They have beautiful foliage and can thrive in shady spots. And ferns - they love the shade and add a nice, lush look to any garden."

Aubrey nodded, her expression changing a bit.

For a moment, Aubrey's tough exterior seemed to melt away completely. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and nostalgia. "Remember when we used to have picnics under the trees at the park? All of us together?"

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mari would always pack those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off."

“Oh yeah… Those were super yummy, even though they were just PB’Js without any crust.”

There was a moment of silence as they both reminisced on the past. Basil wanted to say more, to mend the rift that had formed between them over time, but he couldn't find the right words.

"Oh...Basil, I almost forgot," Aubrey's voice stumbled out.

“What is it?” Basil answered.

“D-Do you know how to still make those umm…. Those flower crown things?”

She felt slightly embarrassed saying it, but Basil seemed to be lost in thought at the question.

“…Oh! Its been so long, I totally had forgotten. Usually when I made them at first, Mari had helped me. She was always so patient, showing me how to weave the stems just right," Basil said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Aubrey nodded, her own eyes growing misty. "Yeah, she was," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I miss her."

Basil felt a lump form in his throat. "Me too," he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air. Then, almost hesitantly, Aubrey reached out and placed her hand on Basil's arm. "Hey," she said softly, "maybe... maybe we could try making one together? In her memory?"

Basil looked up, surprised by the gesture. He nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his face. He took a deep breath, before standing up.

“Yeah, lets go make some flower crowns!”

Basil and Aubrey spent the next hour carefully selecting flowers from the garden, their hands gently plucking daisies, zinnias, marigold, and it went on and on…

Basil's voice broke the peaceful silence as he announced, "I think we have enough now," and sat back down on the soft grass. He spread out their colorful collection in front of them. "First, we'll need to create a base using some of the longer stems." Aubrey observed closely as Basil demonstrated, his fingers skilled at weaving the stems together. She did her best to copy his movements, her forehead creasing with determination.

As they worked, Basil found himself relaxing, the familiar motions of weaving flowers together soothing his nerves. He glanced over at Aubrey, watching as she struggled with a particularly stubborn stem.

"Here, let me show you," he said softly, reaching over to guide her hands. "You want to bend it gently, like this."

Aubrey nodded, her fingers mimicking his movements. "Like this?"

"Yeah, that's perfect," Basil encouraged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Aubrey couldn't help but smile as she jokingly remarked, "Basil, you're like an alternate version of Mari."

Basil's complexion quickly turned a deep shade of red, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Aubrey's mistake dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock and regret filled her voice. "Oh, Basil, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, hoping to make amends. "I didn't mean to-"

Basil shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice trembled slightly as he responded, "It's fine." But deep down, he couldn't hide the pain. "I just... Being compared to her makes me feel really upset.”

"I'm sorry," Aubrey said quietly, taking a step closer. "I shouldn't have said that."

Basil nodded, still not meeting her eyes. The garden around them seemed to grow still, as if holding its breath. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

"It's just..." Basil started, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in her memory. Like I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try."

"Basil, it's okay. You've already forgiven yourself for what happened with Mari. There's no need to continue blaming yourself for it."

Basil fell silent for a moment, his trembling hands returning to tending the flowers. Tears continued to stream down his face.

Aubrey was unsure of how to ease the tension, so she focused on making her own flower crown.

Basil's hands shook as he tried to continue weaving the flower crown, but the stems kept slipping from his grasp.

Aubrey hesitated, then gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, "it's okay. We can take a break if you want."

Basil nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," Aubrey assured him, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "We all have our moments, you know?"

Basil looked up at her, surprise flickering across his tear-stained face. "Even you?"

Aubrey's tough exterior cracked for a moment, her eyes softening as she met Basil's gaze. "Yeah," she admitted quietly. "Even me."

She hesitated, then continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "You remember that day at the church? When you found me crying by myself weeks after Mari died?"

Basil nodded slowly, the memory of that day flooding back. He had stumbled upon Aubrey in a quiet corner of the church, her usual bravado stripped away, leaving only raw grief in its wake.

"I go there sometimes," Aubrey confessed, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the grass. "When things get too much at home, or when I just... miss her." Her voice caught on the last word, and she quickly looked away, blinking rapidly.

Aubrey's vulnerability was something he had never witnessed before, and it evoked a strong emotion within him. Slowly, he extended his arm and rested his hand on hers.

"I...I visit the cemetery sometimes," he confessed in a hushed tone. "I talk to her. It brings me some peace."

Aubrey nodded, a wistful grin appearing on her face. "Same here. I tell her about my day, how much I still miss her. Occasionally, I even seek her guidance."

"What do you think she'd say?" Basil asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aubrey was quiet for a moment, her eyes distant. "I think...she’d tell us to cherish and remember our memories, but not to get stuck in the past.

To keep living, you know?"

Basil nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, that sounds like Mari," he said softly. "She always knew how to make things better."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the gentle rustling of leaves and distant birdsong filling the air. Basil's gaze drifted back to the half-finished flower crowns lying in the grass before them.

"Do you... do you want to finish these?" he asked hesitantly, gesturing to the flowers.

Aubrey nodded, her eyes brightening slightly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

They resumed their work on the flower crowns, their hands moving with renewed purpose. The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a comfortable silence punctuated only by the occasional rustle of stems or soft murmur of instruction.

As they wove the last flowers into place, Basil glanced up at Aubrey. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, pink hair falling across her face as she carefully threaded a daisy into her crown. For a moment, he saw a glimpse of the girl she used to be, before grief and anger had hardened her edges.

"There," Aubrey said, holding up her completed crown with a hint of pride in her voice. "How's it look?"

Basil smiled, genuine warmth spreading through his chest. "It looks so cute!”

Aubrey's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thanks," she mumbled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She held the flower crown out to Basil. "Here, you should wear it."

Basil blinked in surprise. "Me? But you made it..."

"Yeah, and I'm giving it to you," Aubrey insisted, her tone softening. "Come on, just try it on."

Hesitantly, Basil took the flower crown and placed it gently on his head. The weight of it felt familiar, comforting somehow. Aubrey's eyes widened slightly as she looked at him.

“Wow, you look like a 12 year old Basil.”

Basil made a neutral expression at that comment, seeming annoyed that she was being so sarcastic.

“…Seriously?”

Aubrey nodded, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, it's like looking at a snapshot from the past." Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "It suits you, Basil. Always has."

Basil felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. For a moment, the years of pain and misunderstanding between them seemed to melt away, leaving only the memory of the friendship they once shared.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He picked up the flower crown he had made and held it out to Aubrey. "Here, this one's for you."

Aubrey hesitated for a moment, before putting it on her head.

“What type of flowers are on this one?”

Basil studied the crown for a moment before saying, “The first flower I picked out was Baby's Breath, it could act as a good base. Then I got some zinnias and marigold for some good blooming flowers.”

Aubrey's fingers gently traced the delicate petals of the flower crown, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's beautiful, Basil. Thank you."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the afternoon sun warming their faces as a gentle breeze rustled through the garden. Basil found himself studying Aubrey's profile, noticing how the flowers in her crown complemented the fading pink of her hair.

“Aubrey, your roots are showing.”

"Yeah, I know," she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the ground. "Haven't had the money to re-dye it lately."

Basil hesitated, then spoke softly, "I... I think it looks nice. The natural color, I mean."

Aubrey looked up, surprise flickering across her face. "Really?"

“I-I mean, I think dyed hair looks cool when its all faded and you can see the roots," Basil stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It's like... like watching something grow and change. Like a flower."

“Ugh…you’re such a nerd.”

Aubrey's words held no real bite, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She reached up, gently touching the flower crown on her head. "Maybe I'll let it grow out a bit," she mused softly. "See what happens."

"Hey, Basil?" Aubrey's voice broke the comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for today. For teaching me about the flowers and... everything else."

Basil's throat tightened as he listened to the honesty in Aubrey's words. "I'm glad I could help," he said, his voice catching slightly. "And thank you for coming by."

"Have you figured out where you want to plant your flowers yet, when you have the chance?"

Aubrey shook her head, her fingers absently tracing the petals of a nearby flower. "Not really. I haven't had much time to think about it, with everything going on at home."

Basil nodded sympathetically. "Well, when you're ready, we could look at your yard together. Find the perfect spot." He paused, then added softly, "If you want, that is."

Aubrey's eyes met his, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like that."

Chapter Text

“Rain, rain…”

“Rain, rain…go away.”

The rhythmic chant echoed through the quiet classroom, where a young Aubrey sat, looking out the window, which was getting pelted with small little drops of rain. Aubrey’s chin sank into her crossed arms, her feet swinging beneath the desk in frustrated protest.

The teacher, was barely audible over the patter of rain on the window panes, his voice a monotone drone that dissolved into the wet-weather hush. Basil sat two rows back, hands clasped tightly on the desk, his eyes darting between the clock and the streaks of water forming rivulets along the glass. He couldn’t focus—on the story, the spelling test, even on the pop quiz they’d all groaned through at the beginning of class.

Basil watched Aubrey, noting how her fists balled every time the thunder clapped or the classroom lights flickered. She hated storms, and it wasn’t just because she got stuck indoors. He’d learned that last year, when she told him about the leak in her bedroom ceiling—how it dripped into a plastic bucket through the night, how the smell of wet drywall would stick to her pillows long after the clouds dried up.

Basil felt the weight of the air, the way it made his lungs feel thick, like breathing under water. He watched the teacher’s chalk drag across the board in cursive loops and wondered who decided that rain made people sleepy. He tried to appreciate whenever it rained, as it helped the garden so he didn’t have to carry the heavy water-can everywhere.

Aubrey slowly turned her head towards Basil, who caught her gaze and locked eyes with her. In that brief moment of connection, she playfully stuck out her tongue, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes.

Basil dropped his gaze to his notebook, but couldn’t help the smile that wanted to creep across his lips. He drew a flower on the corner of the page, petals lopsided and stem curved, then shaded it in with the side of his pencil. Two seconds later, a tightly folded note landed on his desk. He glanced up, but Aubrey was staring out the window again.

He opened the note: "I wish we could go outside. Bet it’s muddy enough to skate in socks."

Basil wrote back without looking, his hand moving in practiced, spidery script: "You'll get your shoes soaked again."

Aubrey’s reply came as a paper projectile, arcing as the teacher’s back turned for an instant. Inside, her scrawl: "Who says I’m bringing shoes?"

The final bell released them into the green-grey glow of early afternoon. The halls were chaotic, choked with the push and flow of kids set free by the weather, but Basil pulled his jacket tight and waited by the lockers. Aubrey’s hair was stringy with humidity, a blue bow sticking out from the mess of hair.

Outside, the rain had muted to a drizzle, soft enough that the sidewalk steamed as their shoes hit it. Aubrey set a brisk pace, splashing into every puddle just to watch the water arc out around her crocs. Basil kept to the drier center of the walk, but she doubled back when she noticed he was lagging behind.

"I dare you to jump in this one," Aubrey announced, indicating a particularly deep and muddy puddle at the curb. Her teeth gleamed, her eyes narrowed in challenge.

Basil hesitated—the cold damp, the certainty of sopping socks—but Aubrey, unimpressed, leapt in first, spattering the whole area.

They walked the winding route through the neighborhood, past rows of neatly trimmed lawns, the occasional gnome grinning from a flowerbed. The air still hung heavy with the aftermath of the storm, a smell like pennies and wet cement, and their footsteps squished over the slick concrete.

They detoured through Faraway Park, the usual shortcut to the plaza and their street. The swings creaked in the wind, their chains slick and abandoned. The park mulch had turned to sludge. Aubrey peeled off to the picnic benches beneath the half-shelter of a drooping fir, Basil trailing after with his backpack still snug against his shoulders.

"I wish Kel came in today, he would of loved the puddles.”

"He's probably home playing video games," Basil said. "Or finishing his science homework. He said he didn't want to flunk out again."

Aubrey set her backpack on the bench with a wet slap and collapsed onto the seat, looking at the playground.

“Basil, want to play on the cat?”

He took one look at the drenched playground animal, and shook his head. “…No. It’s all wet.”

Aubrey rested her chin on her hand against the table, looking disappointed. "You’re so boring sometimes," she muttered. "If Kel was here, he’d at least try to climb it."

Basil shrugged, not sure whether to be offended or relieved. "That cat is rusted through," Basil cautioned. "You'll get tetanus."

Aubrey snorted, picking at a peeled edge of the wooden table. "My dad says you only get tetanus if you lick the rust.”

"If anyone would lick it, it'd probably be you," Basil muttered. He regretted it instantly, but Aubrey just grinned, baring her teeth in a mock snarl.

"Is that a dare?" she provoked, and before Basil could respond, she dashed toward the playground, her feet squelching in the mud. He watched her with a mix of worry and a touch of admiration. Aubrey had a way of pushing herself into anything, whether it was rain or rust. She could make herself resilient.

He followed her at a slower pace, carefully navigating around the muddiest spots. By the time he arrived, Aubrey was already perched atop the yellow cat, her crocs nestled in the grooves of its back, arms spread wide as if she were about to soar.

"It's slipperier than I expected," she shouted, and then, as if to demonstrate, she released her grip and rode the curve of the cat like a wave, sliding down to land in the mulch with a victorious skid.

Basil couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up from within him. It burst out, genuine and unrestrained. Aubrey wiped her muddy hands on her skirt and gave him a crooked grin.

"Didn't I tell you?" she said, lifting an eyebrow.

He shrugged, glancing away to conceal more of his smile than he intended. They stayed by the yellow cat, watching as the clouds dispersed to reveal a sliver of blue sky. Basil absent-mindedly picked at the peeling paint on the edge of the playground while Aubrey spun slowly in circles, her arms outstretched, as if she was gauging the wind.

After a while, the wind gnawed at their damp clothes and Aubrey shivered in her thin school sweater. "Let's go to your place," she said. "Your grandma always makes those weird little sandwiches after school."

Basil tilted his head, “Do you not want to go to your house?

Aubrey’s face went flat, the way it did when she was trying to hide something. “Nah, Mom’s probably asleep.” She nudged the ground with the toe of her shoe, sending little flecks skipping. “And Dad’s at work until late. Again.”

Basil pretended not to notice the sharp edge on those words. He offered a nod, swung his backpack from one shoulder to the other, and started up the path that looped around the soccer field. Aubrey fell in beside him, not talking anymore, head down as she watched her shoes leave spattered prints on the wet pavement.

Beyond the field, the streets thickened into dull suburban sameness, but already Basil could see his grandmother’s house, its saggy fence and the backyard vegetable patch, all wild with the aftermath of the rain. Aubrey stopped at the curb. “Race you,” she said, voice suddenly lighter.

Basil wanted to object—his legs were still cold, and his shoes squelched with each step—but she was already halfway down the block, arms pinwheeling, her hair flying. He chased until his lungs burned and the ache in his chest felt sharp and real, nothing like the slow quiet ache of being alone.

Aubrey reached the yard first, but then her foot sank into a soft patch at the edge of the garden. There was a splattering sound, and she stumbled, arms flailing, catching herself hard on her palms as mud spattered up her legs. Basil slowed, wincing as he watched the damage: Aubrey’s skirt and sweater splashed near-black, her hands slick and shining. She looked up at him, brown hair sticking to her cheeks, and for a second Basil thought she might cry. Instead, she let out a loud laugh.

“Did you see that?” Aubrey barked through her laughter, showing off her palms, mud oozing between her fingers, streaking upward to her elbows. “I’m basically a swamp monster.”

Basil stumbled to a stop next to her, clutching his chest to catch his breath from all the running.

“Your grandma’s going to freak when she sees this,” Aubrey said, grinning now with all her teeth. “Think she’ll let me in?”

“She keeps towels by the door for this exact reason,” Basil replied. His voice was steadier than he expected, carrying something like pride. “She says I was invented to track in mud.”

Aubrey looked at him for a moment, then suddenly started laughing. "Is your entire family always caked in mud?"

“N-No, I didn’t mean it like that!”

He trailed off, caught between the pleasure of Aubrey’s laughter and the embarrassment of his own words. The silence that followed wasn’t unbearable, though. In the pause, rain dripped steadily from the sagging gutters, each drop a tiny metronome marking the slow return to ordinary time.

It was a comfortable silence.