I really don't know how to continue Postludium…hahaha…
Like, I know how it's going to end, but I don't know how to properly write the story so that it sounds good. Rip me.
Blumenlied
….
So…thirsty
Allen looked upon the children in the park enviously, sweating, laughing and playing in the sun. Those blasted humans! They wasted water everyday and he had to look at them doing so, not being able to do anything about it. It was the worst kind of torture for him.
"What are you?" came a voice from behind him.
Crap!
It was a human! Allen went into panic mode. All flowers knew that they weren't to be seen by humans, especially by human children. They picked flowers and put them in glass vases, thinking that that was an adequate way of keeping the flower alive.
Well, it was too late now, he couldn't just head back into his flower to hide – he'd already been seen. Slowly, he turned around and said, "I'm a flower."
Allen was surprised to see that the child he met had blue eyes. It wasn't everyday that one had the chance to see the shade of blue that the child had. It wasn't the watery, pale blue that most people had and it wasn't the electric blue he'd seen on others, no, this was a dark, rich, royal blue that was unusual, but oddly fitting on the boy's pale, Asian face.
The boy's face scrunched up.
"Are you sure? Your petals are awfully dry," he said, forehead wrinkling. Suddenly, he jumped up and took off.
Humans are so weird, Allen sighed.
It wasn't long before the boy was back again, this time with a colourful water bottle, all blue and red, decked out with pictures of…swords?
And then he couldn't breathe.
Spluttering, he looked up to the smirking face of the boy who'd just dumped water on him. If he wasn't so offended, he might've taken the time to thank the boy, but he opted to just glare back as the boy gave him a shit-eating grin.
…
Kanda stared at the stormy sky, a bored expression on his face. To put it simply, the sky looked sick. Thick, ash-grey clouds covered the sky like a thick layer of smog, smothering everything underneath it in the humid, late-summer air.
Kanda's eyes went back to his book, deciding that it was much more interesting than sick clouds. He listened contentedly as the sky rumbled and flashed. Before long, he started to hear the telltale pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting his window.
He sighed, for some reason he just couldn't focus on his book. The sky rumbled again, this time accompanied by a flash of lightning.
Wait…lightning? It rained harder, sheets of water streaming down the windowpanes, and the niggling feeling in the back of his mind grew stronger.
Ooooooh no, Kanda thought with dread as realization set in.
The flower!
Kanda ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, book tossed aside and forgotten.
"Tiedoll!" he shouted. A grey ball of hair poked itself out of a room.
"What is it, Yuu-kun?" he asked in kindly voice.
"Where's the gardening stuff?" Kanda's voice was urgent.
"In the garage," Tiedoll replied, only having a moment to wonder as Kanda bolted to the room that connected the house to the garage.
…
Allen desperately clung to his flower. He hated late-summer storms, they were mean little things, jeering at him and pulling at his petals while blowing past him in a flurry of rainwater and mud. He'd drown if this continued; he wasn't naïve enough to think that he'd survive this storm. It pulled and pulled at his stalk, tearing the ground around his roots.
"Mr. Flower!" Allen was startled out of his contemplation of his imminent death; head turning fast enough to give him whiplash. There he was, the boy from the other day, my savior, he thought.
The boy was barreling down the sodden, gravel road, clutching a pot and shovel in one hand and a bag of potting soil in the other, the huge bag rivaling the size of his body. He came dripping, water running down his shoulder-length hair and blurring the vision of his eyes. Allen said nothing as the boy came to a stop in front of him, squatting and huffing and puffing. With adroit hands, he slowly dug around Allen, taking care not to damage any roots and placed him in the pot, covering him until the rim of the pot with the soil.
The wind was howling now, clawing at their clothes. Abandoning the soil and shovel, the boy pressed Allen's new pot against his chest and ran back to – what Allen was assuming – his house. Quickly hiding in his flower, Allen watched through a slit as Kanda took off his shoes and was clucked at and fussed over by a warm, old man.