Chapter Text
Aching.
They stumble out of their room for breakfast, later than they should. It's almost 11:00, and they just got up.
Of course, Azure doesn't mind. He waits to eat until they're up in the morning, even if he's starving by then.
He knows they think he doesn't care. That he doesn't want them around, that they're a burden. He wish that he had the words to tell them otherwise.
But he's not all that good with words. It comes with spending most of his adult life in a cult that raises people to be illiterate. Since they don't teach reading, there's no books. And he just... never went out of his way to keep it up.
He can't find the words to tell them that he doesn't mind taking care of them. That he isn't scared of them, or mad they're still healing. Just because his gaping stab wound was healed doesn't mean theirs is.
He decides to show what he means through actions. He tries letting them in close again.
Hopefully there's no daggers involved this time.
____________________________________
He helps them walk part of the way to the backyard, patiently waiting as they inch towards their usual spot, doing his best to make sure they wont hurt themself falling. When they eventually do stumble, he's right there to catch them, picking them up and carrying them the rest of the way.
Setting them on their bench beneath that huge willow tree, leaving them with water and a blanket, like they're some kind of dog in a car. He goes off to tend his plants, feeling them watch him.
He puts diligent care into the nightshades that have just started to bloom. He's noticed that some of the smaller blooms in their skin tend to close up when it's colder outside, ones that wilt and disappear. He wishes it didn't hurt them so much to pry the larger ones out of their flesh, which makes more wounds they don't have the energy to heal. If they're in the right spot the flowers are also connected to their veins, which was seriously disgusting the time it happened.
They also had to go to the hospital.
He realizes that while thinking, he's vastly over-pruned some daisies. A few of the flowers lay on the ground, and he groans. Not only is he distracted by Two Time, but also by the fact he's about starving now.
He sets his tools down on the table beside them, smelling of mint and dirt in a way that's alluring, somehow.
Hands spared of most dirt by his removed gloves, he always has lunch made before they're awake in the morning, packed neatly in a picnic basket. He sits down, placing the basket to his right, Two Time on his left.
Of course, he usually sits with the basket as a divider between the two of them, so clearly they're excited about the change. Such is evident when their tail curls around his leg absentmindedly while they eat a perfectly packed sandwich.
Or... try to eat it, anyways. It's still very much a difficult process for them, since theres a barely healed wound in the center of their stomach that's doing its best to heal around a huge flower, which is still definitely painful. They do push through though, which you appreciate. He tries to motivate them with praise and a kiss on the cheek.