Title: deteriorate
Rating: G
Summary: Do you still see the flower, Kanda?
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He closed his eyes, then reopened them barely a second later. It didn't matter anymore.
Now he could see the flowers regardless.
Before, there had only been one. Only one ghostly, slowing fading lotus blossom, wilting until it disappeared.
Gradually, one had become three, then five, then ten. In the past few years, the numbers had exploded maddeningly.
It was as if he stood in a field of flowers now, shrouded in the scent of decaying blooms and hot-metallic blood.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He didn't know when it started, but the flowers had moved on from merely wilting and rotting. They began to bleed a thick black-red ooze, eating away the petals one by one.
When the last petal fell, the world pounded inside his head, demanding to be set free.
Things were changing, and he could feel it. These days, he grew tired more often and spaced out during training.
and so the flower unravels, petal by bloody petal
Sitting in his room, shirt haphazardly thrown into some corner, he stared at the
flower-covered
ceiling and wondered when his engineered body would break.
And that was how she found him, sprawled on his bed and lost in a dream of contorted efflorescence.
Even the most beautiful flower can hide its evil thorns.
His name fell from her lips in a quivering tumble.
And even the most beautiful flower must die.
As the ghostly petals gradually faded from his vision, he was mildly surprised to find Lenalee had fallen towards him, grasping his shoulders and murmuring words of comfort, straining to conceal the tears that marred her voice.
He regarded her in silence as was his custom, but the arms around her waist spoke of his gratitude.
He closed his eyes and leaned into her, content to bask in the sound of her voice even as the flowers reappeared, circling closer in their dance of death.
If he let himself drift in the calm of her presence, he could almost believe the words she said.
Don't give up, because there will always be a way out.
The night is always darkest just before the dawn.
I will follow you wherever you go.
It was this last whisper that made him realize that deep down, she too realized their hopelessness.
It was the one promise he hoped she would not keep.
Together, they sat in his dim room, cloistered by the stench of madly blooming flowers, ominous and ethereal. Her fingers tightened desperately, an embrace of steel lined with the hope that if she held on hard enough, she would be able to keep him by her side.
He knew better. Unlike her, he had grown up with the darkness. His expression was morose as he looked up, dull eyes taking in the vast lotus the color of stripped skin, slowly extending its petals towards him.
His own embrace tightened and he bowed his head in prayer, hoping that the imprint he left behind would be her salvation.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.