If only he'd have known.
If only he'd have been able to see the soft glow of her pretty soul past the glaring blue of the cursed device that held the quivering remnants of his sanity, the only things keeping him tethered to reality by quickly dwindling rope twines. But he wasn't able to see it. He only saw the blooming of red beneath the cool blue glass that seemed to tremble with the motions of his desperate hands. He only heard her soft, trembling whispers resonate through his entire being, felt the words twine with the strings of his heart, curl around his cold bones like a wisp of black smoke, poisoning his already sick mind with darkness.
"Stop...looking...please...Shig..."
He felt those words blare and screech to the warped music of his dim soul, sickening him, blackening his heart with their acrid smoke. He was merely a thorn, sitting patiently, expectantly atop the curling green stem, waiting for red to swell beneath his sharp end. Though it never did. There was no one to prick their finger with nothing but a soft tap. Still, he sat. And waited. Content to be there for her, the velvety soft, crimson petals, reaching toward the sun, which played its light on her, making her appear ever sweeter. She was his entire purpose. He decided to stay there for her, to aid and comfort her. She was his world.
But now she was gone.
He hadn't noticed her soft petals beginning to fall, to wither away. Though they did, one by one they floated to the ground, slowly tearing her from him.
And when the last petal fell, so did he.
And petals of crimson bloomed beneath him.