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You should have known that it would end like this.
Nero and Kyrie; they were the quintessential perfect couple. If they separated, it would be an event that tore apart the heavens and cracked the very shell of the universe with how wrong the event would be. Like gravity reversing and leaving everything untethered and adrift. They matched each other perfectly, rotating around each other in a sync that you had never known. Would never know.
The moment that you met Nero, that bright flame that drew your eyes like a moth to a porch-light, you should have turned around and left. Should have gone far away, so far that the sound of his name would have become foreign. You didn’t do that though. Instead, you followed after him. You followed the flame and now that you and he had gotten close, you were burning up in the heat. It had started gentle, like most beginnings do.
“You OK, miss?” He extended his hand to a dumbstruck you, pulling you up with utmost care and making sure that you were on your feet before letting you go. “That was one ugly demon. You’re lucky that I was around to get rid of it for you.” He grinned at you, his smile prompting one on your face. He had an infectious smile; the moment that you even saw the beginning of those lips curl upwards, your lips were already matching his.
“I was just thinking that exact same thing. You have no idea how scared I was. Well, I’m still scared, I guess.” He pulled his hand from yours and you felt the oddest tickle in your chest. He frowned at you and looked around the area, trying to check and see if there was anything he missed, anything that might still cause you concern. You hid a giggle behind your hand. “I was worried about the demon before, but now I’m worried about paying you back for saving my life.”
You knew him. Nero the Devil Hunter—he was famous on the isle of Fortuna. He was a member of the Order, and now an independent contractor. One that gave acceptable prices, but was harsh if you did not follow through.
His cheeks got red at your explanation. He averted his eyes, his cheeks still fire-engine red as he rubbed his nose. “Ah, there’s no need for that. I was in the area, so… Consider this one on the house.” He muttered. That was surprising. You’d heard that his mouth could turn foul very quickly, especially if he felt that he was getting a raw deal. He turned to leave, but you stopped him with a hand wrapped around his wrist.
“Then let me give you something to take with you.” You pleaded. You weren’t sure why it was so important for you to give him something, anything of yours for him to have. Looking back, he really was just being a good person. That seemed to be a disease that Nero was afflicted with chronically. “Just as a token of my appreciation.”
“Look, miss, it really isn’t necessary. Your thanks is all I need.” He insisted, but you were dragging him to your upended bike, flower petals from the little sprigs of wildflowers you’d picked near the forest’s border scattered across the cobblestone of Fortuna’s streets. You let him go only after he seemed to be compliant to your machinations, giving him a very stern look that he sarcastically saluted before squatting down and picking through the sprigs to find the least wrecked flowers. You’d gathered these to make little flower accessories to sell, but your life was more important than the sacrifice of a few flowers. You’d arranged them in your hand, wishing you had some ribbon—wait, ribbon. You pulled your hair ribbon from your updo, letting your hair fall where it may as you wrapped the ribbon around the stems of the pretty blue and yellow and pink flowers. You turned to Nero, a broad grin on your face as you presented them to him.
He took them from you, his face painted with a question. You held your elbows behind your back as you explained. “It’s not much, but they’re so pretty aren’t they?” You gave him a wink. “I’ve heard they’re prized by demon hunters for their restorative properties.” You did a little twirl as you walked to your bike, setting it to rights. He merely looked at the flowers and then at you. You gave him a little wave, believing that this was the last time that you’d see the handsome devil hunter. “Bye!”
The next time that you met, he was passed out in a pile of garbage. You recognized him immediately, having had him on your mind for the past few weeks, unable to scrub the imprint of his smiling face from the inside of your eyelids. You dragged him from the refuse to the inside of a small apartment building. It would be impossible for you to drag him up the steps to your apartment, so you left him in the lobby momentarily to grab a first aid kit for the few scratches and abrasions that littered his skin. He was still out of it when you returned, and you were nervous about touching him while he was unconscious. At least, the recurring tickle in your chest made you think that you were nervous.
He groaned and you got over your stupid nerves quickly. He was hurt and you were wasting time. You pulled out antiseptic, bandages, butterfly bandages, and some dermabond that you’d gotten from your job. He groaned again when you dabbed some alcohol on a deeper cut, and you murmured a soft apology foolishly knowing that he couldn’t hear you. You let the alcohol dry, then you applied some dermabond and pressed the laceration together, holding the skin together until you knew that enough time had passed for the medical superglue to adhere. You applied bacitracin to the repaired lac and covered it with a bandage. You repeated the process across what you could see of his body, not noticing that he’d woken up about halfway through your mending process, watching you with an indecipherable look.
It was only after the last abrasion that you pulled away from him and saw that his pretty gray eyes were tracking your movement. You squeaked and scuttled away from him in a reverse table-top position.
“S-s-sorry!” You stuttered, your face feeling hot for some reason. “I just saw you there and you needed some help so I…” You trailed off as he inspected his bandaging, a closed look on his face. He peeled off one of the bandages, revealing smooth skin underneath. You looked at the area with bugged out eyes, unable to reconcile what you were seeing. You knew there was a cut there. What the hell…?
“I heal quickly.” Nero explained. “So you didn’t need to do any of this for me.” He flexed his hand, stretching the newly healed skin out. His cheeks looked a little darker when he saw how many bandages covered his body. ‘Huh, guess I was pretty banged up.” He systemically peeled off the bandages, revealing more and more healed skin, making you feel a little stupid and embarrassed for having used so many supplies on someone who was going to heal pretty much immediately.
“Ah, sorry about…” You bit your lip, too humiliated to continue. You waved a hand at the poor attempt at first aid. “That.” You finished lamely. He stopped his systematic bandage peeling and looked at you.
“Sorry? Don’t be.” A smile burst across his face, brighter than phosphorous igniting at the tip of a match and striking you just as blind. “I appreciate the effort, miss.” He got up with a groan, brushing dust from his clothes before he was back out. “You should probably stay inside. Don’t want you to get hurt.” You watched him leave, the hero on his way to slay the villain, with a chest full of admiration and starry eyes.
He forgot to take off the little floral bandaid on his elbow.
It wasn’t fireworks, like you’d always thought your first love would be. It was slow, like planting wisteria in the spring of youth and only seeing it blossom in the summer of adulthood. You were satisfied seeing him every now and again, helping him in little ways whenever you could.
The next time you met, you gave him a drink during a lull in the fighting, taking his thanks and keeping it close to your heart. You gave him the recipe after he said that he would like to drink it everyday. After that, you’d given him the lunch that you’d packed, saying that it was payment for helping you escape more and more demons. He told you it was delicious. Living so close to Mitis forest seemed to be challenging to your health. You didn’t want to move though. Not when it kept bringing him close to you. You couldn’t give it up, the full feeling in your heart that he kept leaving you with.
“I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?” He’d asked after clearing out another hoard of demons near your little home. You didn’t live in an isolated place, but neither did you live in the city of Fortuna proper. You liked being around the trees, around the plants. You also liked being around him, but you could only do that if demons were nearby it seemed.
“You have,” you informed him, already planning on giving him a box of homemade cookies as payment. “Several times.”
“Oh. Thought I’d just seen you in town or something.” Something felt like it pierced your heart when he admitted that he didn’t remember you. You forced a smile anyway. You weren’t the type to become downtrodden over something so silly as a dubious memory.
“I don’t go into town often.” You informed him. “But I’ve seen you quite a bit. It actually… I’ve grown to admire you, Nero. A lot.” You confessed to him, your words shy and quiet, but he still heard. Even if he hadn’t though, it would have changed nothing.
Nero rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes anywhere but yours. “Ah, that’s… I’m sorry.” The fullness in your chest worsened as your throat became too full to speak. “I have a girlfriend.” Your world didn’t crash around you. You didn’t have enough of a pull on the universe for that. That was reserved for special people like Nero and Kyrie.
You were just you, a normal girl whose lungs felt too big for her chest in that moment. You wished that your lungs would keep going, keep expanding full of air and you would float away, far away from this moment.
“You seem really nice. I’m sure that you’ll find the person meant for you.” He reassured you and gave you that bright phosphorous smile again. You could only nod and smile back, helpless and hapless as he ruffled your hair and wished you luck before he leapt away. Your eyes followed him, once again the moth following that flame. The moment he was out of sight, you couldn’t breathe. Your lungs just couldn’t expand another millimeter to allow air in and you went to your knees, wheezing and coughing, trying to clear your airways of whatever was blocking them. When you pulled away, finally able to draw only shallow breaths, you saw a puddle underneath you. Full of small, violet stalks—they were perfectly formed blue salvia.
You saw a doctor after you’d cried until your eyes were dry, a coughing fit interrupting the sobs every now and again, decorating the ground with more blue salvia. Perhaps it would grow there now. Not that you’d live long enough to see it bloom.
The doctor told you everything that you already knew. Rare terminal illness, flowers blooming in your lungs from your heart’s desire being unfulfilled and in layman’s terms: your unrequited love was killing you. You had the option of surgery, something you cast away immediately. You’d known Nero for a short time, but losing the memories of him, losing everything that you and he shared… Perhaps the flower affected your brain, but you needed to remember him more than anything. You had the option of telling Nero about how you felt in the hopes that he might cast aside his love for you. Another option you discarded. Why would he ever abandon everything he built with an amazing girl, just for a girl who sold wildflower accessories who he didn’t even remember?
No, the only option that you had left was the one that you chose: nothing.
You had gone home, strangely content with your decision. You didn’t have long left, not if the progression pattern the doctor told you followed prediction. So you did what you always did. You tended your flower garden, collected wildflowers and made little accessories, and you ran into Nero time and time again never once letting him know.
“You’re the flower girl, right?” He asked out of the blue one day, finishing off a demon while you ignored the battle behind you and continued picking your flowers. You could tell he was a little shocked at your action, maybe a little irritated, but you weren’t too concerned about your safety when you were already dying.
“You remembered.” You were shocked to say the least. He hadn’t remembered you before, something that you were grateful and bitter about in equal turns. He rubbed the back of his neck, his adorable tell for when he was embarrassed. You’d seen enough of him to know most of his little idiosyncrasies by now.
“Well, yeah. I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen you and your work around town.” Ah, you didn’t go into town. Not anymore. You could never plan your coughing attacks, so you just stopped. You still had a few customers who enjoyed your crafts enough to visit you at your little cottage at the forest’s edge. He’d likely seen one of those people.
“I was wondering… If I could get a necklace made? It’s for someone special, so if you have anything that really says, ‘I love you,’ I’d love to buy one.” You’d never heard of thorns on blue salvia, but you could feel them press into your heart, into your lungs, trying to burst free from your chest.
“I think I have just the thing.” You felt a pulse in your chest seeing his soft smile, his pinked cheeks and averted eyes. You smothered your grimace with your usual smile, not that it would matter if he saw your pain. When he left, you had a coughing fit that lasted far longer than your previous ones, more beautiful flowers scattered with every wheeze that you were able to make. You were certain that you had little time left. You would never tell him about your condition, never tell him that he was the cause. You were going to be like the wildflowers, springing to life unseen and dying just the same.
The next time that he came, there were no demons. There was only him and a beautiful girl with him. You could almost see how their love affected the world around them: colors looked brighter, the sunshine more fulfilling, and you could almost breathe with how light the atmosphere was around them. Even together, they affected the laws of physics and changed the very gravity around them.
“Heya, flower girl, this is Kyrie, my wife.” Oh. Seems that they’d made that leap. You blinked tears away from your eyes. You were so happy for Nero. He deserved nothing but the best, and with how kind this beautiful girl’s eyes were, you were certain that he’d found it.
“Congratulations.” You’d had to force the word, but not out of lack of genuineness, but for the stalks that invaded your throat. You felt a coughing fit coming on, and you had to turn away from the happy and loving couple, covering your mouth and scattering the petals before either could see.
“Are you alright, miss?” Kyrie’s sweet and gentle voice cut through the sound of your muffled coughs. You waved her off.
“Sorry, yeah. I’ve just got something of a cold brewing.” You didn’t miss how Nero stepped in front of Kyrie, as if to protect her from your germs. Silly Nero, you thought with an indulgent smile. You’re already protecting her from what I have. You changed your smile from indulgent to only warm. “Anyway, I’ve got what you ordered ready.”
You went into your home, leaving the couple outside. You didn’t want them to see the little blue petals scattered everywhere, or the tapered leaves piling in the corners. You couldn’t be bothered to clear them away anymore, not when you just kept making them. It didn’t take long for you to find the necklace that you’d made for Kyrie; it was the last thing on your worktable. This would be the last request that you ever took, you could feel it in your bones, roots growing in the cracks to make more room for the flower growing in your chest.
The happy couple were both overjoyed with the necklace that you presented. You’d splurged a little on it; a rose-gold chain with a little resin trinket that would lie in the hollow of Kyrie’s neck. Inside the resin were two flowers, one made from red rose petals to mimic a bright, blooming red rose and the other a tiny pink primrose.
“Both flowers mean love, in flower language.” You explained to the couple. “But the little primrose, that one there? That means ‘I can’t live without you.’” You looked at the couple who exchanged a loving glance at the explanation and you knew that you chose right. “I have one more, for the young man.”
You pulled a simple bracelet from your pocket, a little trinket that you’d made a long while ago. It matched Kyrie’s in design, something you hadn’t planned for but were happy of the coincidence. It was a plain silver bracelet, one with a little resin pendant with a red carnation forever trapped inside. Nero lifted the pendant, tilting it every which way, fascinated by how it seemed to catch the light.
“It’s pretty.” He murmured.
“What does this flower mean?” Kyrie asked, taking the pendant gingerly from Nero’s hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist and press a kiss into her crown lovingly.
“That’s my little secret.” You replied with a wink.
“How much do I owe you?” Nero asked, Kyrie already walking off to admire your small garden. You didn’t answer his question at first. You were a little overcome by fierce longing. You had the urge to tell him that you loved him, that you were dying because of that love. But you knew that the longing didn’t stem from him knowing. It stemmed from the hope that it would change things. You knew that it wouldn’t.
“There’s no need for that,” you told him, an echo of sweeter tasting times. “This one’s on the house.” He tried to argue, just as you did, but you merely plugged your ears and waved them along until they actually left. Nero looking back at you as you’d always dreamed he would, but with a frown like you’d never expected. He didn’t hold that frown for long because Kyrie wrapped one arm around his waist and beamed one of her beatific and lovestruck smiles at him, receiving one in return.
You were certain that he didn’t think of you even once more after that.
You’d timed everything so well. Your borrowed time ran out long after they’d disappeared on the horizon. You could feel the roots and stalks spread more and more, growing under your skin and pressing against your organs. You don’t know how long that it took for the plant to overtake your body, just that you didn’t feel any pain as you stopped breathing, your disease leaving a large blue salvia where you had been standing on your lawn, a sleeping face almost decipherable in the weaving greenery of the plant.
“She’s a very nice girl.” Kyrie said, still admiring the craftsmanship of her necklace, loathe to put it on because she worried that she’d break it. “How long have you known her again?”
“She is.” Nero said, tucking his bracelet into a little journal where a drink recipe was written carefully, pressing a small wildflower bouquet into dryness and the place marked by a hair ribbon. “And I just met her the other day, I think.”