• Sunflower • Hinata Shoyo x Reader

8 • The Rain

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❝If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.❞

-Dolly Parton

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Bad things happen to good people. 

Good things happen to bad people.

That's how it works. 

You've always known that. Everybody knows that.

But even knowing that the worse is yet to come, knowing that bad things happen? It didn't prepare you for what you saw when you got home.

Right after you were so sure your life was turning around.

Shoyo's phone kept ringing, and his parents called him home, so he left you. 

You dearly wish he hadn't. When you got home, the door was open.

The door you locked. You're sure you locked it. The only person with another key is your grandmother.

You run inside, heart pounding, not bothering to close the door hanging open. 

The house looks the same as you left it, but Grandma's bed is unmade. And there's no Grandma. 

You spot some dirt on the floor and a track of footprints. A burglar? Would Grandma leave the house?

Your eyes flick around the house, landing on the window that leads to the garden.

The garden.

You run out of the front again, sweat coating your skin despite the cool night air. You look up at the sky, full of dark gray clouds and stars. It's about to rain, but you don't care.

 The garden looks normal, but the tallest sunflower is drooping. Your prize winner. His petals are gray.

You run up to it and see your grandma sitting at the base, her small frame curled on the cool dirt.

"G-Grandma?" You whisper and sit next to her.

She looks at you, her face pale.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She says, referring to the drooping flower.

"Y-yes, Grandma. What are you doing out here?"

She sighs. "I can feel it. I'm nearing my end. But so is he."

Your eyes start to tear up and you wipe your face. "Grandma, if you feel bad, let's go to the hospital. Please."

You know she'll refuse, but you asked anyway. You try to grab her hand, but she shakes her head, a cough ripping from her lungs.

"He's dying too. I want to die with him. Such a beautiful flower," she says, stroking the stem of the sunflower. 

"I remember planting it with you, way back when. I remember it like yesterday," she smiles, "Darling, please, when I'm gone, don't worry. Just replant the dead flowers. Replant them with someone you love."

The clouds let loose, and your tears fall in sync with the rain.

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Grandma died that night.

It's been two weeks since she passed, and you're not sure what to do. A social worker has started visiting you and looking for someone to take care of you until you turn eighteen.