Work Text:
Dandy gazed upon the foliage with a wince. Every single flower he's cultivated throughout the decades don't say a word, but a sinking feeling is telling him he's being mocked. No matter what it tries to do, these are never going to be beautiful again. He is never going to be beautiful again. There is no worth with the wilting red roses, the orange lilies that seem to fluctuate from full bloom or pure wither with no clear rhyme or reason, or the rampant tansy that refuses to stop. She sighs and fidgets nervously with the clippers in his hand. Nothing is going to do anything.
So much conflict is solidifying like concrete inside them, but Dandy finally convinces themself to step forward and give it a shot. He kneels down and gently holds one of the orange lilies in its cold hand. He silently brings the rusty clippers to it, but not without hesitation. More thoughts seep into her mind. If she clips one flower, surely he'll get the motivation to clip the rest... but they've been fluctuating for so long, surely they'll make up their mind one day.
It rattles in Dandy's head longer than he'd like to admit, but eventually he tries to snip it away. But as expected, the clippers are so rusty from their prolonged disuse that she can hardly even open them. With a sigh, they set them down and yank the flower out themselves. Dandy pauses for a moment with regret, looking back at the poor, unhappy flower it just pulled. It may not have decided in time, but she has. It sighs and crawls forward in the dirt to continue yanking out as many of the orange lilies as it possibly can.
"Tsk tsk."
Dandy froze at the familiar voice. He frantically looked around in panic to try and find the source. Very slowly standing up, it turns around here and there. It doesn't bother picking up the clippers, despite the thought crossing her mind.
Small rustling is caught right in the corner of her eye. Dandy turns around and spies the movement in the tansy, approaching at a moderate pace. They themselves still don't move, watching in anticipation with fingers crossed and simply hoping for the best.
And out comes... a spider.
"On your knees ripping all your hard work out? I once knew someone more... put together than this. Now you're worse than me. What happened?"
Dandy stammers a bit at first, moving his small veil over his upper face and slowly finding his words, "...You know exactly what happened to her."
"Yes, I do."
The spider vanishes in the tansy at a much faster pace than anticipated, and Dandy couldn't help but flinch at the sudden movement. Part of them was nudging him to follow it, another part to run, but not a single foot left the ground. The spider ran though the tansy and up the picket fence, disappearing behind the plastic. Dandy's mind continued to argue and fold in on itself. Get out, go after it, do something. But they froze as always.
It didn't take long for the spider to crawl back up from the other side of the fence, revealing a new form. Dandy already knew who this was, having recognized his voice, but seeing him in the flesh like this absolutely turned it into more of a statue than it already had been. Regardless, they struggled but continued to keep up the uninterested face, despite knowing it never worked whatsoever. The "spider" walked up to it with a steady pace and upon reaching, slowly moved the veil away with unnaturally long, slender, curly fingers, relishing in the panicked eyes that were now impossible to hide.
There was a prolonged silence between the two, Dandy switching from direct eye contact in terror and longing to darting her eyes away in discomfort. In the place of what Dandy remembered as his only good eye was an asymmetrical mess of four beady dots, glistening with its reflection at every angle.
But soon enough, the spider opened his mouth.
"If you had the opportunity to come crawling back to me at any time, what would you do?"
Dandy's head tilted in thought.
"What would you do?"
The spider's expression turned to that of annoyance and unamusement, raising his own hand just to see how the gardener would react. Dandy's heart sank as she flinched and guarded its face with its arms, but they should have known that was always going to be the case. She could have sworn the tansy grew a bit taller, but perhaps this event is just writhing in him more than they'd like to admit to him. He'd say they're seeing things, anyway, surely.
Dandy let out a whispery mumble, "I'm... I'm sorry. Please don't hit me."
"That's better. I almost start to like you when you say that."
He lets out a small smile, teeth sharper than Dandy remembers them.
"I would take you back in, just so you know."
The spider ponders a bit more, seeming to gauge Dandy's reaction before asking another question.
"If I dropped by your current residence, what would you do?"
"W-"
Dandy stops himself, struggling immensely to ignore the joy the spider got out of it and the spreading tansy before proceeding.
"They would recognize you, and they would evacuate me as fast as possible, and then he will hold you there, and when it's safe, they will have no choice but to tell him all about you."
It winces again.
"I believe... then we'd be trapped in there together..."
"You think?"
Their mind fails to find the words.
"...Indeed."
A wind of satisfaction blew over the spider.
"I've heard all that I've wanted."
Unceremoniously, he attempts to leave, trudging through the tansies that seemed to cover just about every other flower in the garden. Though it seemed as though he couldn't quite leave just yet, because a "Hey, wait." halted him in his tracks. He turned to face Dandy with an angry expression, who stood intimidated for a moment before remembering what they had to say.
"Do... Do you... think we could still work?"
The spider seemed appalled, but not in an angry way, rather a joy that Dandy hadn't seen on his face yet, like she already knew.
"Absolutely not. Lousy Gardener. I bet you wish kudzu buried your garden so you wouldn't have to think about the tansy anymore." He spat. "But I will always be there."
"...As will I."
His face fell to anger once more.
"What?"
"The butterflies in your webbing don't come out of nowhere."
The spider didn't say another word, just an uncomfortably long glare before he finally hopped the fence again, never to be seen. Dandy gazed upon the foliage, expression hard to read.
She'll let the Dandy in the waking moment deal with these thoughts.