With bare feet that grew more numb each second they remained frozen in place, Matthias mustered up what little courage he had left and took a step short forward. Every muscle that moved as he extended his leg ached, and when his foot once again made contact with the frigid floor, he felt a small shiver rush down his long spine.

His body protested being awake at this ungodly hour in the morning, yet Matthias couldn't bring himself to gain the common sense to go back into his room and fall under the tempting spell of sleep. In his current state, Matthias could hardly bring himself to do anything - his attention belonged to nothing but the calamity before him, and the pain that coursed through his veins like blood clenched at his heart and left him unable to look away.

Just a few paces before him, amid the light that invaded his dark home through a molding window, a small black table stood alone. In the vast corridor, it was the only thing being illuminated by the gleam: Its glossy surface showed thin white lines that had been hand painted to take the shape of an ornate pattern, and each of its swirls were accompanied by carefully placed dots that curved along the edges of their spines. A glass vase topped the facade of beauty off, and inside, seven once delicate Blåveis flowers stood.

Each one was now hunched over the rim of the glass like they had never held the strength to keep themselves upright, and with their faces cast downwards and tiny petals crumpled like fallen autumn leaves, their identity was difficult to recognize - to the ordinary eye, that is.

Matthias, on the other hand, knew exactly what type of flowers were dying before him and - after trying in vain for nights and days where time itself had tortured him - he had never managed to forget who used to put them there.

Their florist had hardly been tall enough to reach the Dane's brow, and every shirt of his that they had silently taken would be so loose on their figure that it looked more like a nightgown: And with the large cloth draped over their petite body, Matthias could hardly notice the slightly wide hips that hid underneath - the only exception to this would be when he would hold each curve in his hands, but even so, the contact would never last long, for Matthias was sure to swatted at and scolded away.

Along with a rather feminine figure, they had soft, fair skin - it was almost as white and unharmed as the snow that fell around the house they and Matthias had shared. To match their tone of skin, the thin lips that Matthias had fallen in love with were hardly pink enough to see - but even so, he always managed to find both when he would pepper them in clumsy kisses. These fervor actions constantly earned him disapproving glares, but Matthias would only flash another one of his signature pert grins in return.

These touches and kisses were a bit bold, but Matthias found that even smaller ones - like running his calloused hands through their soft, pale blond waves of hair - were destined to receive the same unamused eye roll. No matter from who, his lover hated any type of affection: It was one of their biggest differences.

Matthias' own childlike mind couldn't understand this kind of reserved nature, so being yelled at for foolishly using affection to show how much he cared was quite normal.

This cold nature had left Matthias confused and hurt in the beginning of the relationship, and he quickly began to lose hope that any of his feelings were actually being returned: Nevertheless, he still smiled through the pain with until his faith had grown too small to see.

But, when Matthias truly had nothing left, his lover finally opened up and showed him something that had stitched together his breaking heart: Their eyes, - a deep enough indigo to rival the once deeply colored flower petals - acted as a mirror to how they truly felt. With a little practice, Matthias quickly found that all he had to do was look into those enigmas to be able to tell that the permanent scowl their owner wore was fake and meant nothing. This discovery restored Matthias' optimism and, for the time being, only brought him closer to his lover - that was, of course, before Lukas had left.

Lukas…

The name still held a sweet tone in Matthias's mind, but as of late, it hurt too much to think of; Any sight, sound, or even memory involving him stung too much to recall.

But for sure, Matthias knew that the one thing that hurt him the most to think about was the fact that the small Blåveis flowers Lukas had tended to were decaying right before his eyes because - without the Norwegian's guidance - Matthias lacked the proper skill and knowledge to care for them.

Lukas had tried to teach Matthias how to keep the plants alive several times since he had found them when he first moved in, but Matthias wasn't used to treating something so delicately. At the time though, that didn't matter: Matthias knew that know matter what, Lukas would always know when the latest bundle had run out of life and needed to be replaced. Looking back, it actually wasn't unusual at all for Lukas to disappear whenever Matthias returned home so he could search their overgrown garden for fresh specks of violet (Matthias had found it sort of cute that if Lukas was gone, he always knew where to find him).

When Lukas had first started this ritual that he carried out like clockwork - every seven days, if Matthias remembered correctly. Yes, the Thursday of each week that passed - the Dane couldn't help thinking it was a bit odd. Why, of all things, would a man care about the flowers that grew in their yard like weeds? Regardless of this thought, Matthias always smiled when he set down his suitcase on Thursday afternoons next to a new bouquet: If Lukas showed such a strong ardor to something, then who was Matthias to judge? Hadn't he once loved the sea with an equal or even greater passion?

Reaching out a shaky hand, he slowly lowered his arm down until his fingertips feathered one of the yellowed petals - but the movement caused the frail corolla to break from its stem, and it fluttered silently to the vesdura floor.

'Heh… I guess they both weren't meant to last. I can't take care of either of them.' He stared dully at the plants and let out a defeated sigh.

'I failed to give one enough light and love to survive, and for the other I failed to be the light and love that kept him looking beyond the night for tomorrow. Now, one is lifeless and crippled, and the other's feelings for me died long ago.'

Matthias bent down to retrieve the fallen petal and, after inspecting it tiredly between his fingers, he realized just how true that was. He obviously didn't understand how to take care of the flowers, and as a consequence, they all died: He also didn't know how to properly show love in a way his significant other liked, so just like the flowers, Lukas' feelings towards Matthias weakened as well until they turned into nothing.

Lukas had proved this theory to be true when he wordlessly packed his belongings and left. Since then, Matthias knew that he would never know a colder or darker time for the rest of his life: That day, a melancholia had found and covered the Dane's footsteps and persisted to follow him wherever he went. Instantly, it drowned out the blithe fire he once held and finally crushed every last ounce of optimism he once struggled to keep - until at last, he was left with nothing. Nothing but piercing silence and bleak darkness that blanketed everything in his house in murky shadows - including the vase that Matthias had numbly filled with the same flowers that lukas had left him that Thursday.

Matthias knew that he and Lukas had their problems - with quarrels arising almost everyday about how Matthias needed to stop being so doting, he couldn't blame the Norwegian for getting sick of him - but he wasn't at all ready for the harsh blow being left alone would bring. He missed Lukas everyday with all that he had, and everywhere he went, nothing at all was the same. But, this wasn't something that could be helped. If Lukas was happier without a lovesick Matthias, then he couldn't pester him into coming back. Lukas had simply fallen out of love with the way the Dane loved him, and no matter how much it might have hurt, there was nothing Matthias could do about it.

And so, Matthias was left alone - A hollow shell of what he used to be. Not work, a change of scenery, or even friends could help with the loss he felt, and no matter where he found himself, he would see Lukas, his revered Lukas everywhere - even now, he saw Lukas in the Blåveis flowers. He vaguely saw the indigo hue of Lukas' eyes that was once captured in the petal's veins, his lips wilted into a frown in the downcast head, and his small frame in the thin blackened stem.

Carefully setting the petal down next to the vase, Matthias stepped back and lifted his gaze outside to the matutinal sun. If he could, he would simply throw the mocking flowers away - why keep them if they only served to hurt him worse? - but he knew that he wouldn't ever be able to bring himself to do that. They were too much like their caretaker, and throwing them away would be like throwing away the last precious memory he was allowed to keep of Lukas. So instead, he would leave them in their place by the window, waiting for the Thursday when Lukas would come home with a new bundle of Blåveis in his hands.

Notes:

It took a lot out of me to finally publish this, but I finally got through it all thanks to the help of my friends who served as helpful editors - especially Ali Cat.

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