He found her, a fragile flower struggling for sunlight in the shadow of ugly weeds.
She was perfect, trusting eyes and honest smiles, covered in dirt but her beauty undiminished.
He was not perfect, not trusting or honest or beautiful. Whether covered in dirt or clean as rain, he would never be a flower.
But he dared to make her his and reach for sunlight too, growing in a protective circle around his fragile flower. Nurturing and nourishing her, he hated the world which tried to starve her.
He kept the shadows at bay and spiraled upward as Ran thrived.
~o~
Now he wonders why he ever thought he could protect her. Just a weed, incapable of real love. The baser elements, ugly and wild like jealousy or greed, must have drawn him in.
Because a weed will only ever be a weed, always throwing shadows on beautiful flowers and choking out the sun.
How he could have overlooked the choke-hold he wove around her?
Soon, he will tell her—reminding her one last time— that he tried to love her as well as any weed can love a flower.
He will tell Ran that once or twice she boomed for him and he was sure he touched the sun.
A/N:
Viscum album is the Latin name for mistletoe, which sybolizes parasite(s.)
