→ ฬђєгє เร ๓ץ ๓เภ๔? → norman x reader

04. never say goodbye; language of flowers

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ, and then you were at a point where you never, ever wanted to even try to. Eight years of living with the Grace Field children have changed you for the better. When you were first there you were shy and extremely quiet, and you were very very scared of people.

Of course, some habits of yours hadn't changed. But you are your own person now --for now-- and you talked like you, you walked like you, you were just being you. You with your very own teenage self.

You were in Norman's library. You and Norman traveled to each other's minds about biweekly. Norman thought it was just a reoccurring dream, but now that he is older and much smarter, he thought that it must be something more. You were sitting at the table in his mindscape and reading books. You had noticed that recently when you were there, the books you usually read weren't at the table waiting for you anymore. 

Now, books about how to interpret dreams were appearing before you. You concluded that Norman was trying a little harder now to understand your mindscape. You prayed that you left enough protection in it and that he would listen to the signs telling him where not to go.

He did not.

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

Norman sat in the field of wildflowers, he finally memorized all of the species of flowers around him.

Wild Parsnip, Hogweed, a small amount of Chrysanthemums, Meadowsweet, and couple bushes of Belladona, they were the ones that stood out to him the most in the tall grass.

Poisonous, poisonous, sadness, uselessness, and betrayal.

Those were the significant meanings and qualities of the flowers.

Norman tested all of them, ate and touched the poisonous ones, and plucked the ones that were bad omens. He was confused because if he had done that to any real ones outside of this dream then he would've been extremely ill and possibly killed.

But nonetheless, the deadly bushes and flowers did not hurt him.

Tonight, in this dream, he was determined to test the boundaries of the field, he was going to go down the latter. Norman still couldn't figure out how to get past the wall, but the latter was just a latter with signs around it, nothing really stopping him.

He stood up and did his usual routine of walking to the very edge of the field, only about three steps away from the black abyss beyond it. 

Norman walked to the latter, it was a rusty yellow color, and the aura below it intimidating and foreboding.

Norman ran his hand through his angel-white hair and started to step down the latter. As he went down there was only blackness. The only things he could see were the latter and his own hands. Norman was cringing at the way the paint on the latter was peeling, making him feel a bit uncomfortable.

Down, down, down, down he went.

Norman reached a moment where there was no latter, only darkness. He looked up, and above him, was only darkness.