❦growing❦ COMPLETED

advice

"I just... don't know how I'm supposed to convey to him.. y' know.."

Thomas's head lazed back in frustration before it popped up with a metaphoric light bulb up top, kaya making an amused face.

"my feelings. how do I-... show him?"

"well, what do you mean?" kaya's English accent permeated the room with an enigma.

"he brings me presents all the time, and he's so nice, and he's always so considerate. and he.. He's so incredibly sweet. It drives me crazy every time he comes out of his room with that damn bed head and sits down... Just waiting."

Kaya barked a huge laugh of unbelief

"He makes you mad because he waits??"

"No! Well, yes! But he waits for me to be done with the porridge so I can come over, and he can give me a morning hug... a hug!"

Thomas was near to pulling out his hair here, not believing how incredibly sweet Dylan is.
"awe.."

"He just- he just... He's just so... Dylan."

Kaya started with her endearing words.
"Well of course. He is Dylan after all. And... If you're asking me an opinion about conveying your feelings to him, I think you should do something he's wanted from you."

"Duh. I just can't think of anything. All he's ever asked of me is to not worry, be happy, and stop doing night shifts. Which I have. And then there was this one time where..."
A huge wave of regret and realization plunged down Thomas's face, and a loud grunt came from his throat.
"I told him I could play the guitar... And sing. And he wanted me to do that for him.."

"Luckily for you, I still have rosa's dumb guitar she never uses."

"Kaya..."

Kaya's face wore issue.

"Nevermind... I'll just do it."

"Don't just do it because you assume you have to... like its a job. You want to give something to him, you need to be willing, Thomas."
_

"Dylan?" Thomas called as he walked into the bunker, squinting at the dimly lit hallway.

"Yeah- wait! Don't come in the kitchen."

He heard Dylan's voice boom into the doors hallway. He let out a signal of agreement and started to push off his shoes. Hearing whatever Dylan was associated with, crinkling with thuds.

"Oh, and when you're done doing whatever, go into the living room..." Thomas called again

. . .

"Please?"

"Okay, but you come here first."
He could already hear Dylan's voice closer and Dylan's crutches sounded on the floor of the bunker.
"alright."
Thomas chuckled as he set his musical item on the dryer that was in the hallway, walking into the dimly lit kitchen.
"Close your eyes."
Dylan's low voice said, and it sounded a bit anxious. Thomas, of course, obliged, finding Dylan's warm palm who'd trudged him over to the counter. He grasped, stirring, and Dylan snickered cutely.
"Open your eyes."

But when he did... Dylan was in front of him, holding gorgeous marigolds to Thomas's chest. He wore a small, proud smile, looking at the home-made bouquet.
"Dylan..."
Thomas looked down at the younger, incapable of words.
"Wow... But how did you- how did you get these...?"

"Oh... I was... Outside of the walls. With ki, and kaya, and rosa, and... Frypan...
Y' know... Doing things."

Thomas chuckled at Dylans blatant lie, deciding to nod his head along with the gushiest smile possible.

"And we found flowers. Well, actually a gardening store about four minutes north. A lot of varieties. So we ransacked the place and started a gardening committee. As you know. But I 'dunno- I just- I just knew you liked marigolds, a lot... And I paid for some."
His voice was shaky, and he was blinking a lot. Trying not to look at Thomas, but also trying. The flowers were absolutely stunning, very bright and nostalgic. There was also a mix of lilac and daisies. he could tell Dylan had wrapped the bouquet and put it together himself.

"And i... They smell good-"
He cut himself off with an anxious laugh, and Thomas realized he's never seen someone so nervous. Ever...

He desperately wanted Dylan's eyes on him, so his pale hand trailed up to Dylan's cheek, moving his face closer.
"Hey... Hey, look at me."

Their eyes met

"They're excellent, Dylan. Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

On each "thank you" he left a kiss on a different part of Dylan's face, finally connecting their lips together for one last thank you. Pulling away just to smile.

"Fucks sake, Dylan. You're so great."

"... Thank you..." He bashfully said, looking up, feeling feverish all over.