dαιѕy cнαιɴѕ • тѕυĸĸιyαмα/ᴛᴇʀᴜʏᴀᴍᴀ •𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘•

7•🌼•7

There was a note and a daisy chain.

A perfect one aswell, each stem was the same perfect length and each flower was as fresh and beautiful as the next one, there was not one fallen petal either.

Then there was the note with it's rushed and scruffy handwriting, each letter trailing off at the end of each word as if the person writing it was half asleep while doing so.

Or just so so tired.

The note wasn't long either, a small piece of paper folded over to make it look even smaller. The daisy chain was made to wrap around the note.

What was that thing he said about gladly being stabbed by daisies until he became one himself?

Yeah, that.

Are you happy now?

The field, their spot. That's where the note was. It lay there for anyone to find but it was clear who it was meant for. Plus no one else but the olive-haired boy went there anyway.

But anyway, the daisy chain was perfectly woven, it was a sturdy little crown that was guaranteed not to fall.

It was a one size fits all typa situation.

Yamaguchi had never seen such a perfect chain.

This chain was nothing him or Terushima could ever make. And even after Yamaguchi had placed it on his desk, even after the agonising funeral and the tears, the fits of rage and low lows, it didn't wilt or age.

It stayed perfect and fresh and whole.

But back to the note, the note stained by tears, the note that had numerous amounts of creases as if the writer couldn't decide wether they wanted to crush it up or end it.

Well they decided to end it. In a-lot of ways.

And even years after, even many many years, Yamaguchi still made a daisy chain on that one day and placed it on Tsukishima's grave.

The perfect chain never did wilt but it did eventually get thrown away.

What was that one thing about 'until it dies?'

Yeah, that.

F I N