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The flowers. They wrapped around Dark Cacao cookie’s lungs like a venomous snake, thorns dripping with the poison they called love.
The roots tightened around the insides of his chest. A beautiful, deadly reminder of what he did to himself all those years ago. His hand clutched his chest whilst an onslaught of chokes and coughs forced pale yellow flower petals out of his throat.
Light yellow orchids, The colour of the eyes Dark Cacao loved so much, drenched in deep crimson blood, still fresh, still disgustingly warm and bitter.
He inhaled slowly before another series of coughs sent petals and blood to pool onto the cold tile floor he was curled up on.
It hurt to cough, it left the sharpest, stinging pain in his chest that he wouldn’t even wish upon the licorice sea. But it hurt even more to think about those wretched orchids, so soft yet so brilliant, basking in the sun’s light.
If only, He thought, if only he could let go. If only he could have left this cursed love behind all those years ago.
All he wanted to do was to forget, to bury all his thoughts at the very back of his mind. But oh… those memories.
They plagued him, they plagued him with pain in every way you could imagine but how warm they were. Before all the fighting, before all the tragedy, before the endless dark and murky despair, there was them.
Just the two of them.
Those early mornings spent running through the vanilla gardens down to the sugar swan lake, hand in hand, to the evenings spent under the roof of the pagoda overlooking the orchid gardens where they would talk well into the night.
His long blonde hair that shone gold under the sunlight, that he would braid and brush through with his fingertips.
Those mismatched eyes.
One the colour of those beautiful Vanillian orchids and the other the colour of the endless blue skies that blanketed the Vanilla kingdom.
He could get lost in those eyes forever, the eyes that never left Cacao’s gaze. But the flowers. The flowers, they held him back.
A prison of vines so thick he couldn’t even cut it with his own sword. A gorgeously horrid entangle of orchids that sprouted from the sick joy of watching its host blindly chase after he love that was far out of reach.
The flowers starved him with longing.
For the person he loved most, was tending to their own flowers.
Those of white petals.