Chapter One: Marigold

Rays of light beat down, illuminating the space within confined walls. Several sheets lay in wild messes across the bed and floor, barely covering the body that spreads across the comfortable nest of pillows. I laugh a bit, staring down at him. Warmth and joy spreading within myself as I watch the man before me snore, ignorant of the waking world. I sat down beside him, cupping his cheek before stroking his hair, humming in bliss as the tick tock of the clock fights against the quiet. I leaned down, kissing him lightly on the cheek before ruffling at his hair.

"Jean, it's time to wake up," I urged him to fight off sleep. "It's not good to be late to work after taking a day off."

He grumbles and swats at my hand, attempting to bury himself within the pillows and blankets, grappling to pull them over his head. A huff escapes my lips before I rip everything away from him and grin. Cackling, I hover my hand over his side, brushing it ever so slightly, watching as he flinches a bit and scurries backwards, still attempting to ward off responsibility. A shriek bounces off the walls of the room, rustling and thumps follow close. Swearing is heard from the other side of the bed as Jean clutch at his side from the sudden attack. His nose flares and lips curl downward as he stares at me, clearly not amused from my actions.

"What the fuck, Marco! Couldn't you have woken me up normally?"

I smile sheepishly at him, and apologize. I tell him that he wouldn't wake up at first and was being stubborn, so there was no other choice. I shrug a bit and walk out of the room with the knowledge that his conscious is completely clear, though probably a bit miffed from such a rough awakening.

I move into the kitchen to make a bit of breakfast as Jean prepares for the day. The fridge is near empty, making me frown a bit. I had little to work with, but there was enough for breakfast to be made without worries. As I cook, I cautiously move around. After the accident and a loss of a limb and an eye, I generally had to take a bit more time to do even the simplest of tasks, but I feel a bit more comfortable each day that passes.

Jean enters the kitchen, drifting towards me to try and sneak a taste or two of the food before I finish. I did not prevent him from doing such as he always gets his way, but I send him a look to show that I am displeased with his actions. He grins up at me, shrugging and mumbling about payback. I huff and look the other way, attempting to ignore his presence as I grab at an apple and move to the table.

I hear him, laughing under his breath and soon, I feel arms around my stomach and his body flush against mine. He kisses the back of my head before moving back to the kitchen, then to the table with both plates in his arms, settling everything before moving back to me, eyes staring into mine. A smile escapes me, my face heating from the attention he gives me, before he pulls me down for a kiss, chaste and gentle, before removing himself and walking back to the table, this time, settling down. I follow his lead, smile stuck on my face as I sat beside him. There is little conversation between us as he has to leave soon for work. Though I do attempt to make him slow down, he rushes through the meal, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and runs off to work.

I stand there a bit, staring at the closed door, and slowly bring myself to clean the dishes. After the dishes were down, I scribble out a grocery list as neatly as I could, before making my way outside. I venture the same route, smiling and greeting those I recognize, before reaching the store. As I gather the produce that I've listed, I decided to add in some extra fruits as snacks and a few bars of chocolate, as I felt that I needed a bit more sweetness to consume. After paying, I slowly walk back home, taking in the scenery I see every day. I hum a bit, deciding that I would take a walk after putting the grocery away, pondering which route to take.

Once back in my home, I place the grocery into the cabinets, fridge and freezer, making sure to leave a bar of chocolate on the counter as a reminder that I have some in possession. Making my way back to the door, I hesitate. My mind wanders and I nearly turn back to stay in the house, but I force myself forward and away from the negative thoughts creeping in my mind. Outside the building, I stand there taking in a deep breath before heading off towards a destination that I, myself, am not sure of. There are sights and sounds I have yet to see in the city, and I am slowly finding them, expanding my world once again. One such sight was a flower shop tucked between two houses, nearly empty aside from a worker and a customer. I stop and look at the layout, simple yet elegant, sporting swirls of crème over white. Much of the shop itself is crème and white, delicate and calming, encasing potted flowers of all colors and packets of seeds and supplies behind the desk.

Soon, I find myself walking into the shop, the bell overhead ringing along with a bright welcome from the worker. Her bright, blue eyes twinkle as she smiles and brushes back her blonde hair before getting back to the customer from before. I look around aimlessly, staring at the different flowers before me, unsure of whether I should purchase something.

"That one is a marigold, beautiful and bright, though it holds a slightly negative meaning in some cases."

I jolt a bit, frighten out of my thoughts, turning around and staring down at blue eyes. She apologizes from startling me, giving me a small smile before telling me of the marigold, a flower found all over the world and symbolizes in passion, but also of negative emotions such as grief, jealousy and despair. Her eyes wander over to my right side briefly before flicking to stare into my eyes, making me feel as though she knew the festering emotions deep within me. Letting go of a breath I did not know I held, I ask for a few of the marigolds. She smiles and prepares them for me, waving me farewell as I head out. Holding a bundle of marigolds, I look down at them before heaving a sigh and walking back home.

Upon entering the room, silence welcomes me and engulfs my own greeting to myself, whispering sadness into my ears. I settle the marigolds on top of the kitchen table before walking into the room, staring at the mess of pillows and sheets, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread fill me as I walk closer and closer to the bed.

"You're just over reacting. Everything is fine."

My face heats up and my vision mists a bit before I start to lift the pillows into a neater pile and fold a few of the blankets to settle on one side of the bed before pulling the rest over my body. I close my eyes before repeating the mantra a few more times, slowly being engulfed in darkness.

I wake to a hand shaking me, my eye cracking open before a yawn escapes me. I rub at my eye and get up, staring at the body hovering over me. Jean is home and back with me. I lift myself up, hugging him into me tightly, breathing in before moving back. He looks concerned, and I smile a bit before welcoming him home.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I answer before stretching. I honestly feel fine now that he was back. I grin before settling back into the bed, patting at the pile of folded blankets beside me. He huffs a bit, with a look of suspicion before hopping into bed, asking me the same question. I smile lightly at him, leaning on his side, giving him the same answer as before. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, kissing at the top of my head, nuzzling it a bit before rolling on top of me completely, staring deep into my eyes before settling a kiss on my lips. His eyes shift to the right of my face, asking for permission to which I nod at, before settling a few light brushes of lips against scars. He travels slowly, moving his kisses upwards before settling over my eye patch, giving it one last kiss before shifting and placing his forehead against mine. We stay there, him on top of me, forehead together, breathing in the same rhythm, content with just ourselves for the moment. After a while, he crawls down a bit and settles his head against my chest, above my heart. His eyes shut as he listens, and I feel my heart racing a bit more, feelings welling within myself as I watch him.

"I'm so glad you're alive," he whispers almost to himself, so quiet I nearly did not catch it. My breath is caught and I couldn't speak as my mind suspends in a whirl of thoughts and my heart beats even more wildly. A small laugh and lips curl up as he stare back at me, eyes twinkling with happiness. "I'm so glad."

My lips start to tremble as emotions shove its way out of me. I want to tell him how glad I am to have him by my side and spend my days with him, but a croak only escapes my lips. He understands me and his hand comes to mind, intertwining our fingers together. He pulls them towards him and kisses the back of my hand before settling back down to rest. We lie there, listening to one another's breathing, enjoying the company. Soon, he gets up and walks out of the bedroom, returning with the marigolds.

"What are these for?" He questions with an eyebrow slightly lifted. I smile at him, heart racing again before I settle my sights on the marigolds.

"The meaning of marigolds is passion."

And so I smother these dark emotions into the back of my mind.