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It is a warm and sunny day of early spring. All birds, small and big, chirp pleasantly at the first ray of sunlight, welcoming spring with high-pitched melodies.
Most flowers bloom at their fullest already, and so do allergies. The grass is crowded with freshly born dandelions, daisies, marguerites, crocuses and snowflakes. Even their little friend, ivy, managed to crawl it's way up against some walls.
The air is filled with a colorful smell, and even more colorful spores.
The multicolored breeze is warm and refreshing and smells like flowers, fruit and coffee. Butterflies glide through the lukewarm wind, through soft hair, hasty feet and running noses.
And so do you. You make your way through booming streets, as do all the other people who share your ground.
You are wearing your favorite and most precious sweater. It's permeable to air but holding warm, soft and fluffy and most importantly it is hazelnut-brown.
Hazelnut and pastel-browns and orange are your colors.
You also picked your best pair of jeans and your most valuable pair of sneakers, which are so stunning and wonderful being all black with a little bit of golden highlights, that you're scared to put them on most of the time. They could wear off, god beware.
But today is a special day. You picked your best and most favorite clothes for this - and only this. You tried to make yourself look as pretty as you possibly know how.
You have never been all too confident about your looks or your weight – which honestly could be a bit less, in your opinion - but here you are and you think you look almost good enough.
Today is special and you are nervous.
Anxious to say the least.
Today you are visiting Gamzee for the first time.
It's not all too long since you've reached your first goal of the day.
It is a flower shop. And it is only for this particular occasion.
You are getting flowers. And you already know exactly which ones you want.
You know you like flowers, you also know he likes flowers, just like pretty much everyone else likes flowers. So you are getting flowers, and you pray to every god in the universe that Gamzee will feel happy about a flower gift. Today you are getting some of his favorites.
But it's doesn't take long until you dive in deep in your own thoughts as you wait in the well smelling room at the florist’s. The ambient air is making your brain flash and light up with all kinds of sweet memories.
You met Gamzee sixteen years ago, when you were only nine and he was in his sweet tenth year of life. And you've just moved and were the new kid in class. The new, weird and overweight kid.
You didn't think you would ever like him when you first saw him. He was that cool kid, pretty pale with black curles and even blacker clothes only with purple highlights here and there. Kind of weird he was, and too good looking for his own sake, a magnet to girls and guys even. But still only having his private little clique no one would manage to hang out with. And he was almost glowing with self-esteem, despite having a pretty lazy and carefree personality. Honest he was. Always honest and direct.
You didn't know whether you should like or hate that, at that point.
One day, you were forced to share tables with him. He was unconcentrated and disturbed classes, so he was forced to sit with you. You, the calm and rational one. You, the little nerd, the loner, the friendless.
And this was when you talked for the first time, him smiling at you, all wide and bright for the first time, and you began to think this guy might not be as bad as you thought he would be. He even brought and offered you chocolate almost every lunch, and you happily took it. It was also there, where he distanced himself from his little chosen group and hung out with you alone more. You probably weren't much welcomed by them, and you didn't welcome them either, so it was fine.
Hasn't been long since you even figured you didn't live far from each other, only a few streets away, barely three minutes by foot. Even though you've never been to his house before, because his dad apparently doesn't like visitors, you met up outside and played the funniest games like football or climbing trees and even Pokémon. You two got closer by each passing day. And this is how you became closest friends. Not best friends though, you'd say.
His best friend's name is Karkat. He was in the same class and didn't live far from the two of you as well. Unfortunately, you never got along with him all too great.
He is loud and noisy in general, and you really never felt like you could handle his tempers all too good, not like Gamzee can. But of course he can, they know and love each other since kindergarten which is about twenty-three years now. And that is a long time. Plus, Karkat is always in a bad mood, you think. But for Gamzee's sake, you can manage to deal with his presence, even hang out with him at times, because your sweet little Gamz sure liked to bring this douche along once in a while.
You even managed to get up in a fight or two or twohundred with him, but that always would pass, and the two of you could always get a hold of yourselves. For him.
That's what you two got in common.
Him.
He is important to you both. The most important, you dare to say. You always were pretty lonely, being the quiet nerd. But he was being all happy and open to people of all kind, he liked you and he pulled you out of that hole you felt yourself drift into.
He wasn't always at his highest and brightest though. You were allowed to get to know him at his lowest as well. You got to know he felt torn down, lonely and alone at times. He had family issues, his dad was an alcoholic, you knew that much. Times were difficult for him. But just as he pulled you up, you pulled him. You pulled each other off the ground, again and again and again, held each others heads and hearts up.
And you fought your demons, would've fought the world if you had to, and you felt like heroes. Feeling like heroes was one the best feelings you've ever had.
The years passed.
Year after year, and your friendship wouldn't give in, to whatever stone faith put in your paths.
And there have been stones made of arguments and fights and tears.
But none of that stones was big enough.
Somewhen shortly after Gamzee hit his eighteenth year of life, he wanted to get the driver's license for a motorbike. And you never liked motorbikes nor did you like anything dangerous at all. And those things are deathtraps. They are, they are dangerous and uncontrollable. You hate them and you let him know. You also let him know that you would always fear for him.
But like Gamzee cared. He totally does love everything that includes a certain amount of danger, of recklessness. He would just grin wide and toothy and happily at your worries, trying to smile them away, you guess.
"No risk no fun, brother mine."
"This kind of thing is uh, definitely a bad habit of, uh, yours."
"Old habits die hard, motherfucker."
And he assured you he can handle a motorbike, or everything in that matter, had done plenty of shit in his life, worse shit than this, that you have not a thing to worry. You never had a single chance of talking the idea out of his mind. He loves the death machines and what he loves he loves deep and unconditionally and without second guessing and no one can stop him from doing so.
That, you got to experience as well... ---
The florist you waited for earlier just came back by now, ripping you out of those bittersweet memories. Your ordered flowers are nicely wrapped up, even though the friendly lady with the kind smile wondered why you would want lilacs. Lilacs mixed with some other little purplish flowers you love so much. You could see it in her eyes as you asked for them a few minutes ago. It's not typical flowers one would bring to a date. Or whoever she is assuming you are getting them for.
You gladly take them, with the widest smile and pay the polite lady. For the flowers, and for her service.
You leave the shop, flowers grabbed in your hands firmly but all soft and gentle as if they were made off porcelain. And the smell of them is just wonderful. You take a deep breath. These are his favorites and you, too, love them, and will forever carry a scent, so wonderful in your heart. It's etched into your memory. How could you even forget such fragrant perfume ?
These will make him happy, you would bet your life on it!
You walk the streets in a slow pace to your final destination. You are still nervous as hell, you get more and more nervous with each little step you take, your hands even get sweaty.
You sure have some plans for him today. You want to tell him a lot of things.
Even though you are not quite sure if you will manage to tell him all of it today. Not sure if you will even tell him the most important things, or even anything at all. But you sure now you are running late and you hope he won't be too mad about that. He can't be mad if you bring him this little present, can he?
The streets are filled with life as you walk past them, the air is warm and smells like spring as people talk and laugh and whisper sweet nothings to each other and it is relaxing to you, and makes you drift aback into your own thoughts again.
It was a deep and cold winter, six years ago.
Six years ago, Gamzee confessed that he is in love with you.
It didn't happen all too suddenly. You have noticed before.
He started to seek contact. Physically. A hug here and there that lasted way too long, a grab to your shirt, a soft touch now and then on your hair, a swift sniff on your neck when he was close enough to reach.
You weren't all too uncomfortable with all of that, but it still made you a little jumpy whenever something like that happened.
It didn't take long, didn't take much, just some time alone when he felt like it was the right time to confess. You played the shocked one, even though you kind of expected that.
But you weren't ready, to say the least. You were scared to fuck it all up. You really didn't want to hurt or lose him.
You were overwhelmed with emotions by the situation and tried to talk him out of it.
"I, uh, think you lost your way here," you shrugged, "this is, uh, probably wrong."
"Lost I am. Lost and hopelessly in love," he replied, "I certainly know right from wrong motherfucker, but the trouble is, being so close to a brother feels so wonderfully right."
Wow, you were utterly unable to cope.
You told him you need time, told him again and again over hours and months and years.
That you didn't know for sure, you weren't certain how you felt, didn't want to give a proper answer. You were rational. He was madness. That's statistics!
He was reckless where you were worried, he was childish where you were wise, he was self-destructive where you were cautious.
And he was self-destructive! He would smoke and drink and get piercings and ink. You told him to stop smoking at the very least.
"You, uh, promised you'd stop smoking."
"I only smoke when I'm drinkin', Tavbro."
"But you're, uh, drinking all, the time."
"Well motherfucker, I'll be all up and motherfucking working on that next."
Yeah he pissed you off at times, just as much as he made you happy.
It was difficult, and you honestly believed so. You were too different.
End of story. Friends, sure. Love, no way. No way in hell....
You were certain though. Not right then, of course, it took almost two years until you were completely sure how you felt. Excuses were all that you could think of, denial was all that you've known. Period.
Confession came slowly. But you noticed, with the little things, the little moments.
When your heart skipped a beat, as the brilliance of his smile flashed into your direction.
When you could listen to him talk, all day, about nothing and anything that he had locked up inside from anyone else, and the clock would just stop ticking when it was his voice that was ringing in your ears.
When you bed down beside each other in warm and fresh summer grass, or in sand dunes on the beach, watching the sunset, or staring out the sea. Watching the world spin as your own blissfully stopped.
When you woke up at nights, dreaming of his touch, breathing fast, heart racing, lying on soft sheets, wet with sweat and.. other things.
When the simple thought of his very existence, would make you blush.
Yeah, falling in love isn't rational. It's madness.
You still never gave him answer. Never said yes, never said no either. You were too scared to fuck things up, like you usually do when it comes to human relations. This thing, this friendship, was too important to you to lose it to one of your fuck ups. So your lips remained sealed.
And he was okay with that. He was fucking okay with that, when he shouldn't have been.
You should've never made him wait this long for you, not six whole years, but he waited and waited and he has not given up on you, not even for a second.
You know, because Karkat told you so. And of course Karkat would know, Gamzee loves that dude, and sometimes, you are a bit jealous of how much he does so. You know what they have is completely platonic, but it's deeper and more beautiful than the universe itself. They have, no, they ARE their own universe. You can't help but feel jealous now and then. Their love is perfection in your eyes. It's so perfect, so bright and so sparkling it makes the sun look dull.
But it is today. It is today, today is the day, that very special day, where you intend to tell him how much he means to you, how much you love him back exactly the same he loves you.
How he is the air in your lungs, how he is the blood in your veins and how he is the smile on your lips. And how much sorry you are that it took you so freaking long to realize and even longer to tell him how you felt. Tell him the fucking truth and to not keep playing an act of a simple and plain friendship to him. He is so much more to you and he deserves to know.
Today is supposed to be the day you are going to confess your unconditional love to Gamzee.
It's only about half an hour later that you finally reach your destination.
You pass through a little steely gate, you leave a beautiful, wide and colorful garden behind you as you move strictly forward. With determination and... something mournful.
You can already see him from afar.
There he is. Right in front of you.
And you are lucky, indeed. He is alone. There's no family, no weirdo hating-on-you-clique friends, no creepy Dad and no Karkat. Not even Karkat. You will have some alone time, hell yeah, and that suits you just perfectly fine.
You step closer, and closer, shoulders tensed up, hands still sweaty, getting sweatier even, and your heart beats like you just ran a five-hundred miles. But you know you're late and you pray to god he wouldn't be all too mad at you for that. But knowing Gamzee, he's probably nothing close to mad but relaxed as fuck.
"Hey Gamzee, i'm here at last," you whisper the softest that you know how to, i'm sorry i made you wait, you keep on going, with a light and saddened smile on your face as you stare to the ground.
Gamzee doesn't answer you. He doesn't smile back at you and he doesn't give you one of those way-too-long-for-your-liking hugs, you actually do crave so bad right now.
You kneel down. Down to his feet, and you place his favourite flowers there.
Because this is romantic. That's a freaking romantic action.
It's those Lilacs. Lilacs and some extra flowers you ordered just for your precious.
Forget-me-nots.
You breathe in deep, fill your lungs with air and you are shaking now.
Now. It's now. There's your chance. He is listening, he is watching you.
"I'm, uh, sorry for being late, I, uh, am sorry if I let you down but.. uh..you need to know, no no, uh.. I need you to know that....", you stutter.
You want to tell him, but the words don't come out.
You just kneel there infront of him and the words don't come out.
You want to tell him everything so bad.
Everything you feel and have always felt.
That he will always be your happiest what has been.
That he will always be your biggest what if.
And that he will always be your saddest what will never be.
But you don't.
These lips are sealed.
Today is not the day.
"I'm sorry Gamzee...."
A sad smile crawls up your trembling lips as you stand up again.
Through tears that are streaming down your face, you smile at him, in absolute silence. Not even a single bird, no angel.. sings their song for you, or him.
You place your right hand gently on the warm, sun-streaked and sparkling stone and fondle it with much care, trace it softly with your fingers, feel it be there, feel him be there under your touch.
That gravestone that carries Gamzee's name.
You ain't ready for confession, ain't ready for a final good-bye.
"Maybe tomorrow..", you whisper, softly and quiet like a ghost.
Like nothing more than one face of many.
One useless face, one useless voice, sinking in an ocean of many.
Faces that come and go in waves.
Because that's all you are now.