Flowers For My Beloved

Flowers For You - Wyll

Would Wyll like flowers?

He would. Well, you assumed he would. You hoped he would. Especially since the bouquet of flowers was all done, and ready, and pretty in your hands.

The reason why you did this was simple, really. You loved him. You loved him. You loved him. Saying it so many times wouldn't be enough. Writing it, filling up an entire book wouldn't be enough. Showering him with kisses wouldn't be enough. You wondered if he understood, wondered if he knew just a fraction of it, of how much you loved him.

And you were so deep in it, your emotions. You'd look for him first thing in the morning. You'd be eager to hear the sound of his voice. Your heart would jump whenever a smile grew on his lips.

It was easy, so easy to fall in love with him. Because he was wonderful; his skill, his strength, his kindness. Because he was funny, making quips and comments you wouldn't expect to make you bust out in laughter. Because he'd go out of his way to protect you, his hand a saving grace to always pull you out of danger.

Because he danced with you, he was himself, your bodies swaying to music only you two could hear, your heart firmly in his grasp the moment he held your hand.

He was righteous, he was self-sacrificing, and he gave more love to others than they could ever want to return. He gave, and gave, and gave, even his own humanity, just to save others. Wouldn't it be right to give him something, even if it was small?

You wanted him to be loved.

Would these flowers be enough?

No, perhaps not. They might never be. But it was a start.

You waited until he was alone, until everyone was asleep. He stood by the fire, looking up at the sky, his eyes thoughtful. There he was again, thinking about things, too many things, the weight seeming heavy on his shoulders. Was this really a good time to give him the flowers?

You looked at the bouquet for a long moment, counting the flowers. There were 12, a mixture of white and violet, surrounded by a delicate wall of green. It wasn't your best work, and it certainly wasn't your best set of flowers, most of them picked up along the way, but it was beautiful. Not perfect, but enough.

You looked at him, just as he let out a soft sigh, and your resolve strengthened. You'll give him these flowers. While you couldn't rid him of his problems, making him happy, giving him a moment of peace, even just briefly, was good enough for you to try.

You approached him, the grass crunching beneath your feet, and he turned to you with a small smile on his face, as if already aware it was you.

"Good evening, my love."

"My love?" Your eyes sparkled, "That sounds wonderful. Could you say that again?"

He laughed, "Good evening, my love."

"It's a wonderful evening indeed, my love, my heart, my soul~"

You grinned as he laughed harder, his hand on his chest and his eyes shining in mirth. Yes, this was it, wasn't it? To make him laugh.

You stepped closer, wanting to get a better look at him. "I have something for you."

He hummed, curious. "And what would that be?"

You slowly took out the flowers from behind your back, presenting it to him with a big smile.

"I love you,"

His eyes widened, looking pained, comforted, and happy. He looked at the flowers as if trying to sear them into his mind.

"I love you," you repeated, "Always."

He looked at you, then at the flowers, then at you again. His eyes conveyed so much from a single gaze. He reached out, his hand shaking, before taking hold of the bouquet firmly.

"I have... never received flowers before."

He held the flowers close to his chest, tenderly, looking close to tears, but stopped himself just. "I..."

"Thank you."