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Mekeke looked out his window, rain pouring from the clouds. The white lilys that he cherished, the beautiful flowers he was going to give to his love... were nowhere to be seen. Who picked them? What cruel thing wouldn't even ask him before it took them all?
He really didn't wanna point fingers. But a little nagging thing in his head told him to just confront everybody. Cry in the spotlight until someone speaks up. And if he wasn't able to get an answer, or if somebody he cherished betrayed him... he would want to join the puppets stringed to his bedroom ceiling.
Of course, almost everybody didn't do it. Gyororo and Nuii are just children, Dokuku wouldn't be interested, Fukoko probably would prefer yellow and blue buttercups, and Hanana would never hurt a plant. But, there was one who did admit it.
"I stole your flowers. I made a bouqet out of them, for the both of us to enjoy, yo." Putata mumbled under his breath, which was concerning for the usual happy-go-lucky loud voice of his. Tears streamed down Mekeke's face, burning his cheeks, and soaking his hoodie.
Mekeke pulled a knife to himself. His dear boyfriend, his other half, who stole his lilys. It was for a good cause, but he couldn't help but think he did something wrong.
Putata held the handle of the blade, attempting to make Mekeke lose his grip. "Hey, thats the wrong way, dude..." Putata was suprised. He just wanted be romantic, giving Mekeke a gift as pretty as Mekeke himself. But, Mekeke shakily whispered, "No... its not. This is the right way, there is no real way you did this."
The knife fell out of Mekeke's hand, falling onto the floor with a clang, not being able to cut anything in the process.
Putata held Mekeke's hand. "What I did was quite wrong, yeah, but... you are the best person I ever met, yo."