Something's wrong with her. I can tell. I hate it, but I can always tell.

It's like those cliché movies always used to say: her mouth smiles, but her eyes don't. It's in the way her lips curl ever so slightly at the ends, fainter than a shadow playing across another, desperately looking for something insignificant to lay her eyes on. The way she purses her lips indignantly, trying to look innocent, trying to seem apathetic, all the while restlessly fidgeting inside her coat pockets. It's almost cute; and would be, if it hadn't been a sign of something being wrong.

No, it's cute anyways. Goddamn.

Silently, determinedly, I gaze at the gleaming flower before me, pastel hues I might've once overlooked dancing brightly in my eyes. Out of the corner of my sight, Raze is standing not far off, characteristically shifting her weight from one foot to the other in the heavy rain fall. I bite my lip, staring intently at the flower, willing my gaze not to stray.

Don't look. Don't look at her.

The flower, one simple plant in its simplicity, holds more beauty than many can even imagine. Fire yellow, fading slowly, ever so subtle, into a deep blood red. Silk to the touch, the smell of faint perfume mingling with the swirling mist. The smell of life, of beauty itself, weaving back and forth through the falling drops of water.

Almost like…

Don't look, don't you dare look…

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

I curse inside my head. She doesn't give a damn about the flowers; she was never one for… well, flowers. However, desperate for something to break the awkward stillness, I continue.

"Lilies are my favorite." I pause, hating how childish I sound – rambling, incoherent babble of nothingness, like a four-year-old trying to explain his fondness for Santa Clause. Damn my immaturity. But I can't stop now; something eggs me on, pushes me forwards, and, somewhat against my will, I keep talking. "Most colorful, I think. Actually, I don't know. Orchids, lilacs…" I heave a sigh. This is really, really pathetic. "Fuck it, they're all pretty," I finish softly, eager to end my nervous nonsense, distractedly running a finger across the underside of a petal.

So much for breaking the stillness.

I can't imagine what Raze is thinking of me right now, and I hate to turn and look at her expression; no doubt incredulous, the quirked eyebrow and the playful, amused smirk she always wears in response to my pettiness. I love that smirk. Don't know why, but it's got to be the most beautiful, most wonderful, most seductive thing on the face of the earth. Or, maybe I just need to get out more.

Most likely the latter.

"Orchids are nice," Raze replies distantly from beside me, voice husky and heavily ridden with unspoken words, untold thoughts. I have to strain not to look at her, because by now, it's pretty obvious something's up. The whole scene strikes me as incredibly… off - considering Raze is usually very good at keeping things to herself – and suddenly, I find myself feeling so utterly helpless, as if all I can do in the midst of our hesitant conversation is stare sadly at the gleaming blossom I hold in my hand. The last burst of passionate color in a black-and-white film.

Words, intricate strings of them fashioning themselves in my mind die instantly on my tongue and I swallow, mouth dry as cotton. My eyes graze over the delicate surface of the flower, determined not to glance to the side, desperate to keep my attention on something besides her lips, her eyes. The sliver of caramel skin exposed when her "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" shirt rides tauntingly above the edge of her jeans. Her deep brown locks outlining her face, her beautifully statuesque features, like a picture frame.

Raze shifts again. She has something to say, and I know it well, as unwilling as I am to find out what it is. Thoughtlessly casting a glance over my shoulder, I smile mischievously at the older girl, flicking a string of rain-soaked hair from my face. My gaze quickly snaps back to the flower, however, as it strikes me that I just managed to do the one thing I spent the past ten or so minutes trying not to. And… it isn't nearly as painful as I anticipated.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. I still shouldn't have done it. One, simple glance is all it takes, and I can suddenly feel the deep, inexorable craving for another welling up in the pit of my stomach.

She is so beautiful. That girl…

Stop. Stop it. Don't think, don't look…

But I can't stop myself from thinking. This is the same girl that hounds my thoughts, creates little butterflies in my stomach, twisting my heart around my ribcage and squeezing as tight as she can. One glimpse and breath catches in my throat. She throws a smirk, and the world goes hazy, background fading swiftly into darkness and leaving only the outline of perfection, lingering cigarette smoke and faded leather against the black.

"Are ye goin' ta buy tha' flowers?"

The soft, prominently Irish voice cuts into my thoughts like a knife, and I choke on a smile, biting it back with the determination to not make a complete ass of myself. I love that accent. Love it to death; never fails to brighten the world. But… Raze doesn't need to know that.

My gaze remains steadfast for a moment, and I run my thumb along the day lily's open petals. "Don't have money," I reply softly, grateful for the excuse to speak. My eyes flick upwards to scan Raze's face, lips twitching into a grin. "But I was thinkin' of picking some and running." My smile grows, and I lower my voice to mimic that of a newscaster, savoring the confusion etched into Raze's wrinkled brow. "The infamous flower thief. Striking terror in the coldest of hearts."

"Couple o' flowers?" Raze smirks through the rain, and I find myself lost in the gesture, flowers long forgotten by now. "Why stop there? I'm sure there's some innocent grass lyin' around for the stealin' if ye really want to get dangerous." I watch in bewildered amusement as Raze wraps her trench coat tighter around her slender frame, the drifting fog swirling lazily around her figure. My eyes shift back to the flower, and I swallow a sigh of disappointment.

You looked at her, you dick. You went and did it again. Congratulations.

It's her eyes, mostly. Those captivating little orbs of deep and long-buried emotion, whirlpools of rage and sadness locked behind stubborn doors of apathy. And yet so much life… Beauty, the key to the very universe wrapped in endless folds of icy blue.

I shake my head at the flower. Cut it out, Damnit.

"How much does the flower cost, anyway? I'll buy it fer ye."

I narrow my eyes slightly, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine with the cold. Maybe the cold, maybe not; it's hard to tell. Almost subconsciously, I let a child's hopeful pout creep across my face, breathing in the fragrant air that spins about my head as I gaze intently at the lily I cup in my hand. "You would?" Try as I might, I can't prevent a full fledged smile, and my childish expression gives way an almost sad content. "Don't waste you're money on me." I let my smile fade, flicking the stem idly. "It's just a flower."

I don't mean that in the least. It's never just a flower. It's the epitome of beauty, the very essence of the heart and soul, all contained in a few simple colors and a few simple shapes. The same beauty that only few contain… I feel my eyes flicker, and I bite down on my lip, hard enough to feel a stab of pain sear up my jaw. I can't look again. Look once more and I'll never look away.

"Yer beautiful in the rain, did ya know tha'?"

Pause. Curses. My ears ring with the words. The flower shrinks in my vision, then grows until it's all I see, white, red, orange, yellow, swirling in the falling water, drenching, dripping from my nose, my eyelashes.

My head turns of its own accord, smile faded. My eyes, flicking up to meet Raze's, light up with an incredulous disbelief, and I feel my stomach twist with a hope that could never be. Gaze falling to the pavement, I suddenly feel smaller, more noticeable, flawed and yet so perfect all at once. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, opening my mouth to say something, and ultimately failing, gently biting my bottom lip like an indecisive child.

That's all I am. A child. A child with a dream, a hopeless, horrible, pathetic dream, never to be, never to unfold, never to become anything more than that. Just a dream.

It has to be a dream. Raze wouldn't have said that.

Don't speak. For the love of God, don't speak. You don't need to fuck this up now. Please.

I take a step forwards only to counter it with another step back. Eyes still locked on the ground beneath my feet, I feel water dripping down the sides of my face and almost smile at the welcome feeling. Butterflies in my stomach turn to acid, words jumble themselves up inside my head, and I close my eyes, wishing with every ounce of strength left in me that I might be able to reply.

But nothing comes. Only the flowers, staring at me with their mocking bursts of color, meet my eyes when they open.

Don't think, don't speak, just don't speak-

"You didn't mean that."

The words fall out of my mouth, unstoppable and instantly regretted. She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't, you bloody idiot. The one time it matters, you have to say the most obliviously stupid thing you could possibly come up with...

The blood rushes to my cheeks, and I swallow, hard, squeezing my eyes shut again with the distant hope still lingering that everything is a dream. The flowers, the rain, Raze... Everything but Raze. My mouth is dry. Acid butterflies. Breathe steady. Please, don't let Raze be a dream.

Flashes. The scent of flowers, wet pavement is overpowering. Cigarette smoke – Raze has gotten closer. Did she move? Faded leather, dark and musty, discolored with the rain, fills my vision. She is closer. She wasn't there before. Raze is smirking. Smiling. Ice, glaring down at me - hope, something I've never seen there before –

Pressure. On my arm.

On my lips.

It seems like forever and the blink of an eye; I pull back slightly, unwillingly, a hand still lingering on her cheek, lips tingling with the memory of her mouth on mine. My eyes are open now, searching her face desperately for something: a sign, anything to tell me that it's real, it's all real, and not just an impossible fantasy. The flowers, surrounding us like fireworks in their flaming bursts of color, stare at us with unrelenting gazes, but I'm hardly noticing the flowers anymore. All I can see, all I can feel is her, the intoxicating thrill of what's been done and what will happen and what in fuck's name is going on coursing through my veins like poison. Beautiful, incredible poison.

Her eyes. The most breathtaking orbs in the world. I don't know if she means what she's doing, but I'm lost in those eyes, and I can't seem to control a single movement of my own.

The distance between us closes, and I no longer care.

The acid butterflies disappear, my stomach untangling itself from the knots it was so eager to get twisted into. The flowers, the colors, the rain, the cold, now distant memories in my mind, fading with the flesh-on-flesh contact I'd passed off as no more than an inaccessible delusion mere moments before. One of my hands finds Raze's face, another, her neck, and then nothing but skin, smoky mist and the faint reminiscence of lilies against a horribly wonderful backdrop of darkness.