A/N: School's got me busy so I'm a little out of practice with my writing (and I'm also lazy so I have trouble motivating myself even without school). That being said, I love the characters you're about to read about so much that I had to make this.
Summary: Post HPC. While Yuri copes with all the tragedy life threw at her, she learns that she and Tsubomi are still flowers that have more growing to do.
"Like wildflowers, you must allow yourself to grow in all the places people thought you never would."
-E.V.
Blooming Over Time
Vulnerable to the winds' shrieks and the sheets of rain the sky brings about, Yuri almost forgets why she decided to go to the botanical garden this evening. Rain whips her from all sides and she's a slave to the dreary atmosphere. When she shoves away soaked bangs from her eyesight, the fuzzy outline of her destination strikes a chord in her. And then the memories she unknowingly repressed ignite at once in her battered head.
Yuri remembers it all too well, almost to the point that it's both a miracle and a curse; the shredded and scarred remnants of her father's suit; the gazes of countless blinding stars as they bore witness to her loss; Tsubomi's frigid grip on her goosebump-laden wrist and the raw emotion pounding about her tearful magenta eyes, cutting through the darkness of everything Yuri was sure she'd condemned herself to at that point.
Between each biting mental image that resurfaces, it barely dawns on Yuri that she's approaching the botanical garden. When she grasps the chilling handle of the door, she's a soaked, dripping mess of grief and she just wants to hug Coupe. Something about the soft texture of his fur, the weightless, almost childlike and nostalgic feeling she'd get in her gut when she embraced him would always loosen seemingly inflexible joints, would always make her feel lighter and free.
Finally, she opens the door and is another step closer to getting what she wants. It's also that step that freezes her in place, ironically. Coupe is right where he belongs, nestled at a distance like he always is. The blades of grass below him are there, as always. It's the stark scarlet hair that rests on Coupe's fur that triggers Yuri's careful gaze along the continuous inconsistency that it is, the petite form of someone familiar that sparks a realization.
She decides to move closer. Knots of awkwardness untie themselves when she sees that the bespectacled girl is sleeping on Coupe like he's the softest thing in the world.
For some reason, Yuri finds almost all the solace she needs just by seeing Tsubomi like this: unburdened by all the right and wrong in the world, living in an ideal realm amongst soon-to-be true or false dreams, seeing the winks of young and elder stars as she planted a foot on one of the moon's ethereal grooves...
Untucking her white shirt, Yuri wipes away the droplets on her glasses. Putting them back on and plopping herself on the free side of Coupe, she exhales and lets his warmth do its magic. And as it does, her mind scatters itself even more, but this time it's not unbearable. The soothing fur lulls her to sleep, loosens every tangle of doubt carved within her. Yuri finds that she's really okay with sleeping here, exposed in front of Tsubomi. A small section of her mind argues against the decision, but she easily dismisses the thought as she shuts her worn eyes.
Tsubomi helped her cope a lot too, after all, she remembers. And suddenly, it rings clear why about why she's so fine with doing this before she succumbs to sleep.
It's the unbridled screech of thunder that reels Yuri back into consciousness. Pushing herself from Coupe, she's long had the hunch that Tsubomi would see her like this before she meets her panicked stare from afar. Her scarlet widened eyes are quick to shrink back into understanding ones, reading Yuri's expression with unsure grace. Between them, cold silence lingers, but strangely, it isn't a strained one taut with unease.
Yuri knows that Tsubomi is cautious with how she uses her words, that she sees the big picture most of the time. So she gives Tsubomi all the time she needs.
Tsubomi's voice is fraught with a kindness Yuri doesn't realize she's wanted for so long, a type of kindness attainable only during times like these. "A-Ah! Hello, Yuri,"—Tsubomi pauses and lets her eyes trace Yuri's figure every which way—"should I get a blanket? You're all wet."
Yuri shakes her head and offers Tsubomi the best smile she can muster—somewhat subdued, but noticeable enough. "I'm fine. Thank you for the offer."
It all happens at once. Yuri knows that just as she reads Tsubomi's intentions with wild grace, Tsubomi does the same to her. Behind Tsubomi's glasses, Yuri grasps the hesitant naïvety and urgent wisdom in those shifting magenta eyes, a seemingly improbable conflict. Those same eyes scan Yuri's, and the freezing cynicism and boiling idealism resurface in hers under Tsubomi's stare.
Tsubomi breaks the silence again, looking down at the stationary hands that rest on her lap. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you. I'll leave you alone if you want me to."
The words come naturally out of Yuri's mouth after some seconds. "You don't have to."
Tsubomi looks up and Yuri sees that she's relaxed herself a bit. Yuri likes the tranquility of it all so much that the tight smile she's making seems to be expanding and loosening itself.
That's when she decides that it's fine to skip the small talk, the uninteresting stuff, and get straight to talking about the stuff that matters. Because she and Tsubomi know very well what's going on beneath the surface and that there's no need for fear to obscure their judgments. She also knows that Tsubomi is probably the only one she's comfortable talking about this sort of stuff with.
"Tsubomi, I know where you're coming from. I'm okay."
Evident joviality springs about Tsubomi's unsure expression and Yuri loves it. "You're okay...?"
Yuri shakes her head. "Yes."
Before stillness envelopes them again, Yuri tries to step out of her comfort zone. She's not a fan of initiating conversations, but her instinct tells her that she needs this one, both her and Tsubomi.
"I'm feeling better every day. It just takes time."
Tsubomi blinks and leans on Coupe, pulling out the scrunchies that bound her pigtails in place. Cascades of vibrant tresses swing behind her as she stretches the elastic flower bands with bored fingers. "You came to Coupe to feel better, right? I love doing that too. He's just so cuddly and soft."
Yuri snorts, a delicate action that guides Tsubomi's eyes from her scrunchies back to her. "He is, right? He reminds me of my father, in a way."
Seeing Tsubomi tense up at the mention of her dad, Yuri takes a deep breath and scours her brain for the words she needs. "I'm fine talking about him with you, so don't worry."
Tsubomi sets the scrunchies down and her hands glide to her chest, clenching themselves on the bright bow tie of her school uniform, pale amongst white and red fabric. She seems almost afraid, Yuri thinks. Afraid of the past's, present's, and future's possible implications that would spawn from talking about these kinds of things.
Yuri understands that Tsubomi just isn't as used to death as she is. But even so, she'll eventually have to get used to talking about serious matters, just as everyone has to in life.
Tsubomi's words are meek against the echoes of raindrops that surround the botanical garden. "I'm sorry, Yuri. I mean, I know it's been weeks, but I can't stop thinking about how you felt, how everyone felt," Tsubomi looks away for a bit, probably considering the weight of what she's saying for a moment, Yuri believes. "Sometimes I wonder why exactly Dune hated the world. Maybe if we knew, things could be different, maybe better."
Yuri's throat tightens at the sound of Tsubomi's delicate and formidable words, and she likes what she's hearing. "You mean so that no one would die? I wondered about that possibility too; but Tsubomi, sometimes things aren't going to turn out how you want them to be. Sometimes you have to learn to grieve and take things as they are."
The younger girl nods. "I know. 'Changing' myself taught me that. Sometimes I can't help but think about idealized things, you know? That sort of stuff motivates me."
Yuri stares into Tsubomi's eyes again, and again they seem so strikingly naïve and beautifully wise at the same time. And then it hits her that she's actually had another interesting exchange with Tsubomi. Then there are the many similarities between the two of them—the glasses, being named after floral terms, going to Coupe to, well, cope with the cruelty that reality would bestow upon them—and they're enough to make her think of Tsubomi as a little sister of sorts, a budding flower under the guidance of her blossoming elder.
"I suppose I'm no different in that case, then," Yuri brings herself to say, rubbing her arm, doing her best to loosen stubborn battalions of skin and doubt. "I did believe I could defeat the Desert Apostles on my own before."
"Yeah..." Tsubomi trails off to think for another few seconds. "Hey, Yuri? I was just wondering, but what does being alone feel like to you?"
The question is sudden and out of the blue, but Yuri doesn't mind. "Being alone, huh? If you mean that in a literal sense, I don't mind being alone. But when I tried to stay away from others and new possibilities because of my mistakes, I felt many bad things, I suppose."
Tsubomi nods, and when Yuri sees that she's not sure how to add on to the conversation, she decides to ask this time. "What about you, Tsubomi? How do you feel when it seems no one else is really there with you?"
Tsubomi rubs the fur of Coupe's heart-marked belly in circular motions and needles of fur stick up around her fingers. "Kind of like you. I need my alone time or I get overwhelmed. But for all the past years of my life, I refused to make friends and I only thought of how much I loved my family. It took me 14 years to realize that feeling better and getting over my loneliness meant experiencing new things and making better memories. But I was afraid to try new things."
The older girl snorts again. "We're quite lonely, aren't we? But at least we've got each other to vent to."
"Yeah," Tsubomi smiles, latching her gaze on the settling rain beyond the glass walls around them. "Ah! The rain's letting up. I guess now would be a good time for me to leave."
After all the digging the two of them did, looking beyond the surface to find striking similarities between themselves, Yuri finds that this is the first time she objects to the notion of a friend leaving her alone—a friend that could read the between the lines, which was a much welcome idea to her. While Tsubomi's grabbing her schoolbag and her rose-tinted umbrella, Yuri contemplates the happiness she feels from the idea of exploring new possibilities, new futures with her. Standing up, Yuri makes her way to Tsubomi, with visions of the soon-to-be future sparking her mind with imagination.
"Tsubomi, if you wouldn't mind, would you like to walk outside with me?"
Tsubomi pauses and stares at Yuri with a mixed expression. The patterns on her face are hard to read. Scarlet eyebrows skip up while her eyes widen with haste, and yet, at her gaping lips, Yuri believes she sees a delicate smile taking its time forming itself, just as her thoughts are. And when Tsubomi's about to speak again, both of them can't withdraw the hints of joy that bloom across their features. Smiles blossom with fragrances of warmth and love and Tsubomi is now completely free from the chains of emotional hesitance. But when Yuri expects words soon after, she instead gets a swift, certain nod from Tsubomi and feels her soft hands capture her cold fingers. Tsubomi just stands there, pulling off what's a simple 'yes' with the most spirited smile Yuri's ever seen.
Yuri remembers that she's come to regret many of the actions she's taken and the ones she should've taken sooner in her life. This, she knows without a doubt, she will never regret.