The Music Room - Ereri/Riren (SNK)

-Day 11-

We begin our time together in the garden again. A rainstorm from the previous night has left its mark on the plants, with little water droplets having collected on the leaves and petals of the flowers. Some slide off the sleek surfaces and create little dripping sounds all around us. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it's still raining simply by the sounds. The scent of dew is fresh in the air, the sidewalks still damp.

I walk along slowly, pushing Eren in his newly acquired wheelchair in front of me. He was none too thrilled to have to use it, but his legs are weak, brittle, and can't hold him up for more than a few minutes anymore. Since before I left his room yesterday, he's been required to use it and had been grumbling to himself about it ever since. At least, until I pushed him past the threshold into the garden.

"You can stop if you get tired," he says, reclining his beanie-covered head to look up at me.

"I'm fine," I assure him. Walking doesn't tire me out so much. In fact, I don't mind pushing him along the concrete paths through all the plants. It's peaceful. It allows me to clear my head a bit and revel at what little nature I'm allowed to behold in however much time I have left.

Though I would never say this to anyone - especially Eren - I sometimes wish I would catch something from being outside just to end this miserable, pointless life without actually doing it myself. I'm too much of a coward to go through with that. All I do is sit and wait for some germ to find its way into my body and take me very quickly.

"Hey, do me a favor?" Eren is asking suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Roll me over there." He points toward a large rose bush that looks to be struggling to survive, though it's probably being closely taken care of to see if it will revive. It bears quite a few dead leaves, is wilting, and only sports two actual flowers we can see.

Wordlessly, I stroll over to it, glad the ground it's rooted in is flat enough for the wheels of Eren's wheelchair to handle. He leans forward, reaching out to gently caress a few of the dark pink petals with his bony fingers. I step to the side a bit, watching him closely. His pale pink lips are upturned in that smile of melancholy as he runs his hands so gently over the leaves. His skin catches some of the leftover rainwater and causes it to drip, landing soundlessly in the grass. The sadness in Eren's eyes, suddenly much greener being surrounded by the plant life, is contagious. I feel it seeping into me though the air and making a home in the pit of my stomach.

"Is it weird of me to be relating to a plant?" he asks softly.

Automatically, I shake my head. He glances back, playing that heartbreaking smile on me, and I'm sure my heart does, indeed, at least crack a little more.

Eren settles back into the chair once more, a light sigh brushing past his lips.

"I wonder if it will make it," he says.

I don't want to tell him the possibility is slim. I'm sure he knows, anyway. Neither of us will admit things like that out loud, but we won't deny them, either. He has never told me he'll be okay, and I've never tried to assure him of the same thing either for him or myself. There's no use in lying to ourselves or denying the inevitable.

"Let's go back to the gazebo?" he asks.

I nod and maneuver his wheelchair back onto the sidewalk to make the rest of the journey to said gazebo. It's unchanged and unoccupied; I roll Eren up the ramp and into it, placing him a bit strategically so he can see essentially everything around him. I take a seat of my own on the bench next to him and neatly tuck my hands away in my pocket. We sit in comfortable silence for a while before he pipes up.