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Pure Vanilla was beautiful. Ethereal, almost. The sun would reflect on his long, blonde hair, the reflections looking almost like a glowing halo. His eyes, one the colour of the sea in early morning, the other the colour of sunflowers blooming in summer, would light up as he read out poems he wrote to Shadow Milk. The poems were always very symbolistic, full of metaphors and long words, written in neat cursive. Shadow Milk loved them. Just like he loved Pure Vanilla.
He didn't necessarily want to love Pure Vanilla, but his heart chose to anyway, watered unconsciously by the other until it bloomed with flowering love.
Shadow Milk was considered a great actor, acting out carefully-written scripts on illuminated stages that smelt of half-dry paint, adding his own flourishes, gestures and lines, practically becoming the character. While he was considered a great actor - and he did agree he was one - he was also considered annoying. Dramatic. Bothersome. Whingy and complaining, changing things in the flawless scripts Eternal Sugar wrote, because where was the fun in perfection? However, Pure Vanilla didn't think he was a bother. He would quietly listen to Shadow Milk's dramatic complaints as he skillfully weaved flower crowns with his delicate hands, which he would later gift to the blue-haired. Shadow Milk would say the gifted flower crowns were stupid, too sentimental. But he would take them anyway.
Sometimes, Pure Vanilla would write him letters. Well, at least they were meant to be letters. They were more like poems, sealed in an ivory envelope with a green butterfly stamp. To make it worse, Pure Vanilla would always end the letters with 'I love you, bluebird.'. Shadow Milk knew he didn't mean it romantically though. He didn't mean it in the same way Shadow Milk felt. He just said it because that was the kind of person he was. Gentle, graceful and elegant. Kind and caring. Of course, Shadow Milk would tell Pure Vanilla he loved him too. But he meant it in the way Pure Vanilla didn't. The blonde would interpret it as Shadow Milk saying he loved him as a friend. Because he always would.
How did Shadow Milk know Pure Vanilla didn't love him back? Simple.
White Lily.
White Lily, or rather Moonflower Faerie, was perfect. Gentle, warm smiles, glowing butterflies surrounding her at every moment. Long, white hair with blossoming flowers scattered across it that brushed the floor. A crown placed on her head, matching the one carefully placed on Pure Vanilla's. Respectful, kind, selfless.
Everything Shadow Milk was not.
Pure Vanilla loved her, of course.
But she only saw Pure Vanilla as a friend, and although Pure Vanilla obviously still loved her, he accepted it graciously. He knew he couldn't force love, neither get rid of it.
So, for now, Shadow Milk would have to hold his heart that was flowering with spiky blooms of love that pierced him again and again close to him, the blossoms only growing.