The rain only thudded louder and louder throughout the stormy night. The night sky twinkled beneath the horizon and the bright stars almost looked like crystals – Their glowing radiancy plastering the night sky with a beautiful, lush glow that left the deep indigo welkin wet from the rain. Argos swore he could almost hear the sound of wind chimes emitting from the crystallized stars as he looked outside of his window, Mr. Plant asleep soundly beside him.
Argos rubbed his eyes tiredly, small blackened dots appearing in his vision. Maybe he had rubbed too hard.
I should be asleep right now, Argos thought, Why am I awake? Did a branch fall and wake me up?... It was surely confusing how he'd woken up at the time – It was late at night, the sun was tucked into bed and the stars fretted onto the sky – But it wasn't something to confuse the eyelet right now. It wasn't normally a priority of his to worry.
Argos looked over at Mr. Plant, who was still chained down by the hazy clouds of a deep sleep beside him. It almost seemed that Mr. Plant's breathing matched his own, the rain outside aligned perfectly with Argos' heartbeat, and Mr. Plant's restful eyes fixed just as comfortably as Argos' current headspace – Everything was in the same, exact position, just the two of them in perfect harmony.
TW: Mention(s) of SH and ED
He sighed quietly and suddenly felt the burning weights of unrequited love hanging right off of his wrists and legs as the fraying pain filled his insides and mind with self-hatred–Mr. Plant wouldn't ever love him back. Argos was sure, determined to believe that Mr. Plant was either aromantic or just didn't like Argos too much. The wool was pulled over his scattered eyes and even when it ripped he still couldn't see the sleepy boy right in front of his face that rested on his scarred arms.
The stinging feeling of the man resting on his scarred skin, though, did create an entirely new string of thought for Argos – The edges of the string were frayed and fringed, a stinging sense of uneasiness and disorientation ringing through his mind like a dying young bird's call for its mother. He never wanted Mr. Plant to find out about his scars. He was deathly afraid of what it could do to their already fragile relationship. Mr. Plant could think Argos was doing it for attention – But, even then, Argos was comforted by the remembrance of Mr. Plant's gentleness and kindness for him.
Argos didn't even notice the tears dripping down his face – The tears from the abundance of eyes on his upset face running away from where they came from. He didn't want to burden his best friend with his issues, but he knew well he would find out one way or another. This wasn't a recent thing, either. He's been dealing with self-harm for the past three, painful years in spite of searching for love, and not just within an embodiment – Passions, hobbies, and careers. He may work every job in the city, but he really only loves gardening and babysitting.
After all, thinking of Mr. Plant was his pass-time – despite how much he hated admitting it to himself.
