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He sat next to the figure, folding his legs in a way that allowed the soles of his feet to touch. He rested his hands on his ankles.
They were bony even through the soft fabric of his socks.
After a while of silence, the figure spoke.
" What brings you here? " They asked quietly.
Always quiet. Voice soft, like a breeze.
If you weren't listening for it, you could easily miss it.
But he was always listening.
There wasn't anything in this world that he'd rather listen to.
" ...The silent treatment…? " They murmured.
"Ah, no… Sorry." His voice was still cracking at the edges and sore from disuse. He'd always been quiet, but never so quiet as to… "I just wanted to sit with you."
" With me? …How kind of you, Dreamer. "
"That isn't my name."
" But that is what you are, yes? You are a Dreamer, and I, a Stranger. "
"Not quite a 'stranger.'"
" Do you believe you could still call us friends after so long of being apart? "
…
Low blow.
Right in the heart.
"...Not sure."
" When was the last time you were sure of something? "
…
When he last held his violin.
Well…
It didn't last too long.
"Well. Even then…"
" Yes…? "
"Even then, you still come and see me more often than not."
" How could I not? I still care about you. Even after all this time. "
Care?
Care was what was put into every meal the rose made.
Every time the gladiolus visited the church.
All of the knocks the cactus left on the front door.
All of the orchid's favorite things about their little flower garden.
"You care about someone… as messed up as me…?"
" Only because it's you.
" And admittedly, I myself may be a bit messed up, too. "
Every snip, snip, snip of well-worn, oft-used garden shears, held in the sunflower's shaking, yet strong hand.
Every step, step, step toward someone who did not want help, the tulip holding out a shaking and desperate hand.
He could see black tendrils cradling the stranger's form, somehow darker than their already void-black figure.
…There were at least three eyes in that darkness next to him.
"...Maybe so." He laughed quietly. "We've always been like that, huh?"
" Two sides of the same coin, as she would say. "
"Two halves of the same whole."
" A Dreamer… and a Stranger. "
"A Stranger… and a Dreamer."
He turned his head to look at the stranger again. One last time.
Only to see an empty room.
With sad little plants lining the walls.
And a growing hole in the center of it all.