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A revolution was coming. Blue, always in tune with the winds of change and the tide of love, could sense it.
Not one from the Lightners rummaging about, for he let them continue on their way out of their love for Asgore. No, he sensed something else on the world's unsetting horizon.
Blue never prided himself on it, but he was easily the most poetic and harmonious of the humans flowers. His way of going about things spoke more to the a life well-lived than a stat sheet well-faked or a book well-skimmed through. Thus, a different task currently filled his mind.
Yellow had been a bit too loose-lipped about his special flowers he was planning to give to a special someone, so Blue had set out to find out who this was, hoping to perfect his confession to whoever they may be. How lucky they were, to have the attention of such a devoted soul!
With a bit of prodding here, some rhetorical questioning there, Blue had deduced that Yellow's special someone was actually him, and though he was flattered, Yellow's obsession with stopping 'criminells' and enacting justice was getting in the way.
Many chances for Blue to show his feelings were interrupted by petty 'crimes', and when Blue's flowers had been cut down, it was impossible to change Yellow's mind. That same Yellow had asked and turned a gun on everyone he could find, and when the trail went cold, he was crestfallen. If stealers could run loose like that, then what good of a justice was he?
He had to break the bad news to Blue, and on such a promising day! The ballerino had hinted to Yellow that he had a special someone of his own, and they would be invited to come onstage with him at his next performance. Yellow was looking forward to it, it was a good feeling to imagine Blue finding a fella. How lucky they were, to have the attention of such an honest man!
Sadly, he resigned himself to the chance of a frown on that purdy face of Blue's. He was bent in shame as he slumped to the stage, entirely avoiding the Lightners that had been rummaging through the castle. Minutes before the performance was set to begin, he explained that he couldn't find the perpetrator, and that he didn't deserve to watch something as beautiful as Blue's dancing.
For his part, Blue had known why his flowers were scattered about and why there were no yellow flowers in the area, having chosen to stay quiet. The cowboy was inconsolable, and Blue hated to see such a solemn sadness on that handsome face of Yellow's. With his special someone in no mood to take the stage, he had no choice but to postpone his show to an audience that grumbled on their way out.
With his attention undivided, Blue let Yellow in on a lead. There were three strangers, with love crossed upon their hearts, rushing to save Asgore. The only ones that had evaded Yellow's questioning, it had to be them!
"But was there malice in their stomps?" Blue had rhetorically asked, "Or simply an urgency in their steps?"
"Whatever it was, it can't slide! Not 'til they go down the jail slide, anyhow! I's not lettin' 'em git away!" The moment Yellow heard of potential suspects, he was off to the races, leaving Blue to 'investigate' the crime scene himself.
This led him to the tracks, right before the jail slide and right after the flowers of bounciness, all of which were recent additions. Yellow's single method of justice, imprisonment, had led to complaints from the castle's residents. This new series of contraptions would not only ensure quicker and more efficient sentences, but cater to the thirst for adventure that had brought Yellow to be a frontier lawman.
Blue couldn't help but shake his head politely and smile at the thought. It was novel, yes, but so brutally utilitarian. It could only be thought up by a self-perceived brilliance that gave way to individualistic attempts at glory. Blue would have to thank Seth for something so ingenious.
He turned his attention upward, and if he looked far enough to the room's entrance, he would find those flowers and vines that once blocked the Lightners' way. Sure enough, the cut-down remnants of his petals there were scattered about. If Yellow were here, he would surely be furious. Blue couldn't fault them, though, not even for a second. Just as with Flowery, the three marched forward out of worry and love for their king.
Blue felt an envy of sorts. This world was fleeting by design, and for all their years of being tended to by Asgore, they had but one day to make known just how much they cared for him. They'd heard his tales, seen his anguish, and watched helplessly as disarray burnt away his life. If Blue had his way, after a pirouette routine, all the flowers would surround Asgore and dust him with their love for eternity.
For a time, he'd wondered if it was even right to feel the way he did about Yellow. Were they not guilty of the same inaction? Was there anything to which they owed their existence other than Asgore? Compared to the joy of their caretaker, pursuing this rendezvous felt juvenile.
And that, really, was why Blue approached it the way he did. Not with a lack of truth, but with a lackadaisical whimsy that would drive Yellow up the wall until the finale of Blue's surprise to him was revealed. If they had longer than this moment, then surely, Blue would have been upfront, would have taken an approach less romantic and more practical.
But they did not have longer, and so this was how Blue addressed it, by lying about the trampling and then stealing the special flowers of his special someone. Was that honest? Was it a real example of integrity? It was not.
Worse yet, Yellow had a deep deprecation to him. When he could not complete his goals, he blamed himself to cartoonish degrees. There was a real chance at dependency, an unkind one that could turn love into danger. Blue could not let Yellow define himself by his practicality in delivering justice to Blue's flowers. He could not tell him he did good, and make that the axis upon which his worth revolved, when he had not even been truthful.
Blue let out a sigh, his first real expression of weariness, before taking in the silence that followed. Yellow was not quite as loud as, say, Aqua, but the sound of spurs clicking on boots was hard to miss, as were the cries that the days of all violence and criminells were numbered. With those gone, he must have failed to find the Lightners, and with all his previous interrogations coming up short, he had given up in shame. Blue practically dashed off to the only place he could be, punished the only way he knew how.
Precious little time was needed to find Yellow. He lingered in the corner of a cell with no lock, no key, and no keyhole, holding his knees close in shame. The tapping of ballet shoes on the floor was distinct, and a soft huff left his lips. He didn't deserve his company, not right now.
"Blue... if that's you, don't waste yer words on me. I'm a criminell." If there was any person he would hate to have see him in this sorry state, it would be Blue. He trampled his flowers, he ruined his performance, and now, he was making him aid a violent and hardened stealer such as himself. No sentence could ever be enough to atone for that.
Blue gave a disbelieving nod at such words and took hold of the bars, lifting them up with ease. Yellow had tried to back himself even further into his corner, as if simple contact with him would give Blue a mind virus that told him to commit a violence, but Blue would not yield, holding out a hand his way.
"Yellow, dear," His voice, a soft and somewhat high melody most of the time, was lower now, nearly strained with the effort of hiding something. "I must be entirely honest with you."
"What good's honesty to a thievin' thiefer?" Yellow sulked further, a glint in his eyes at the offered hand even as his sense of fairness refused to let him indulge. "It'll just fill you with lies."
"I'm afraid I've done that myself," Blue threw a hand over his face with theatrical flair, a cocksure motion going against his usual humility. "Your most special flowers, I took them."
"What?!" In an instant, Yellow was standing back up, having to look down to meet Blue's gaze. He couldn't reconcile his special someone committing such a harsh not justice. "I don't believe ya! Did a criminell put you up for framin'? They ain't trappin' you in no picture frame, I'll say that much!"
"Yellow, the deed was all mine. If I must be put away, then leave me in this cell with you."
Yellow paused for a moment, a pinch of red at his cheeks with the idea of sharing any sort of space with Blue, before ultimately sighing in defeat. Even a mind like his, easily bent by whims, could not rationalize it any further. Blue had really become a stealer.
"Consarn it, Blue, I can hardly stand bein' a justice if it means I gotta arrest ya..." Yellow hung his head down, weighing heavy even with the load now off his shoulders, only to suddenly jerk back up. "But wait! I'm in here for the tramplin' of yer flowers! If it was my flowers that was tooked by ya..." The red at his face grew. "How'd'ya know?! I didn't not never tell nobody 'bout 'em!"
Blue steeled himself for a moment. The fault was all his, and now he had to explain himself. "Yellow, I had a feeling, a hunch of sorts, that I was your one. And if I was wrong, then I would have been wrong in the presence of my one. And that would be you."
It was just one bombshell after another, like Yellow really was out in the Wild West under a one-man siege. He wanted so badly to stutter out something to show the feeling was mutual, but Blue was not finished.
"I had this journey planned out for you, one through three acts, ending in you adored on a stage in your finest hour. But... I had seen a bond strengthen today, one that looked grim and doomed. If I am to do the same and set things right, then I must give you this!" Lacking his usual zeal in presenting it, a bouquet had been pulled from behind Blue's back and displayed to Yellow. Blue could not face him yet, turning just so, letting the golds and (slightly ruffled by him, to take the fall for the trampling that never was) blues mix together and speak for themselves.
"And you could have made exception. I'd have no right to it, but as dear Asgore has shown, that's not always enough. You have shown fairness, and I dare say that you have shown integrity." It was Blue's turn to feel a rush of heat to his face. He didn't say that to just anybody, and such heavy words gave him the courage to look Yellow in his eyes. He saw tears, yet as soon as he thought he failed, Yellow scooped up the bouquet with a smile.
"It's... it's purdy, Blue! It's beautyful!" He said through falling tears of joy and relief. Even when he's gotten his pronunciations or words wrong, it never dimmed his image to Blue. It was part of his charm. Chaotic and frivolous that his decisions may be, there was not an ounce of evil in him. He'd move whole dark worlds for Blue, who finally felt they earned the right to do the same for him. "Thank ya, thank ya! I feel like a million bucks now! Maybe even a million elks!"
"Oh, but if I'd known, I'd saved ya this whole worry, and gotten to see yer show..." Yellow slipped back to his default, but Blue tilted his chin up, no longer bearing to hear it.
"Yellow, dear, you looked out for me and for what I cherish. I'm hard pressed to hold that against you," A brief chuckle between words. "Besides, I may still have a show yet. I see the other half of my comedy, right in front of me."
"Other half? 'S just you an' me here, in a cell ain't big enough for the two of-" Putting it together after all this time, Yellow buried his face in that bouquet if only to hide his flush. "Oh, ohhh... I think I git it now..."
"I'm glad. I'm glad we made this turn, dear." Blue was on the verge of crying himself, saving Yellow from a deep sadness that would surely have ended in disaster. He held it in, though, this was too wondrous of a moment to be stained with tears. Hand in hand, they made their way out of the cell and set off for the stage room.
With the audience reassembled, the lights shining overhead, and the sound of whispered anticipation in his ears, Blue had finally been able to perform his routine, truly one worthy of being named a premier danseur noble. It was dazzling, as he always was, particularly to Yellow. The cowboy had taken a seat in the front row, one closest to the stage's exits, and although he wished he could have been in the middle, he could accept such a minor loss after nearly spending the day in jail.
At its conclusion, the crowd gave its applause, a moderate and respectable volume to it. One Floradinn in the crowd had cried out 'encore!', and at that, Blue winked. That was his cue.
"O, if you do insist!" He crooned, jubilation in his gaze as he gestured to the man of the hour. "I have a guest for this encore, if he may so politely present himself..." A hint to rise from his seat, which Yellow did, just now feeling what it was like for all these eyes to be on him. "Yellow, my dear, make your way to me!"
Murmured ooh's and ahh's filled the room as Yellow neglected to take the little stairway up to the stage that earned him this seat, and allowed Blue to pull him up by the hand. His palm was soft, nothing like the emerging calluses on his own palms from brandishing guns and working for the law. This contrast reminded him just what he was fighting for all along.
Only when he'd taken his spot above the 'X' marking his place did Yellow realize he had no lines, nor a character, nor the ability to improvise. "Blue, if I's up here... don't I need a lil' scriptery of sorts?" he whispered to his compatriot, who seemed entirely unbothered by this lack of preparation.
"You won't need one, dear. Not one single word." Blue assured before turning to the crowd. He didn't quite have a speech volume, but his tone remained steady and certain.
"All of my friends, my fellow messengers of love! May we all remember what this special day in this special world is for!" He was waxing philosophical, and just as it threatened to put the audience to sleep, his eyes went back to Yellow's, a smile growing on both their faces. "And may we find it in ourselves... to best embody who we are."
Before Yellow could even begin to process it, Blue's arms came around to gently envelop Yellow's neck, propping them up as he leaned in, closed his eyes, and delivered a kiss right to his lips. It was not a particularly intense kiss. It was soft like his skin, it fluttered like his eyelashes, and went on for so long as to feel like an eternity of bliss. When Blue was sure to pull away, Yellow grabbed him by the waist to make the sensation last a little longer, instinct guiding him there before the two relented.
Another turn to the crowd. Blue looked absolutely delighted at what he'd done. Yellow looked stunned but not displeased. Raucous cheers and clapping louder than either of them thought was possible rang through the auditorium. They were losing their minds, and several Shinobeetles couldn't help but fluster from the sheer audacity of this public love on display.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Those words had been shouted by a few particularly frenzied audience members, and Blue took a bow... or at least, as much of a bow as one could take while held in the grasp of another.
"Ya hear that? They's callin' us brave..." Yellow didn't want to fight the tears at his eyes. All he knew was that he'd done good, that he felt perfectly content, and that Blue had been every bit of the special someone he'd fawned over from the moment they met.
"Not us, my dear," Blue's reply came soft and sweet, a microcosm of himself. "Just you, in your finest hour, and I am honored to be a part of it."
Yellow couldn't hold back a sob of delight, one of purpose and release. Blue simply laughed to himself as he thought of all those who'd assume Yellow less emotional than him. He was happy to see how wrong they were, and how wrong he was for having wanted any other way for this surprise to go than the one unfolding here and now.
Blue's foreseen revolution was right where he'd anticipated. It was within himself, within Yellow, to make that turn. With it, they would bring a bond anew, one reflected in not just Asgore's will, but their own. As his world would revolve into a new day, so too would theirs.