To Crush a Rose - Floyd & Riddle

Epilogue

The body hit the floor with a loud thud, though he didn't pay much attention to it after that. Floyd craned his neck backwards, letting out an annoyed grumble as he stepped over the man at his feet towards the recliner that sat in the corner of his small home. He'd looked specifically for a house this small. He couldn't have the temptation to bring someone home again. Not after Shrimpy. Not after—

He never carried much when he switched homes. It was far too easy to get new things. He'd rummage through closets, wallets, whatever he could get his hands on until he felt settled enough. As the years passed, he found that there were few things that he actually cared about.

The teal-haired boy pulled out the journal from his bag, tucking his long legs awkwardly underneath him as he tried to settle in. Writing was a dangerous game. Years could feel like minutes for him and before he realized it, he would begin forgetting again. It'd start with certain events. Then names, faces. Floyd hated it. It made him sick to think there were so many things about Jade that he couldn't even remember now.

Mismatched eyes stared down at the page that he'd started the day he brought Goldfish home. Though his eyes traced over the quickly scrawled letters of the nickname, his pen tapping gently on the yellowed paper before crossing it out with one line. Riddle. He deserved a name.

The ghoul took a couple deep breaths. IlovehimIlovehimIlovehimIlovehimIlovehimIlovehim.

He let out a dry laugh, knowing that Riddle must have figured out he wasn't coming back by now. Even he knew that what he'd done was wrong—he'd left practically without a goodbye. He'd waited in the doorway, praying for Riddle to say he loved him back, but it never came.

I did this to him. It's my fault.

Floyd had tried so desperately to get Riddle to tell him it was an accident. That he'd kill Sea Turtle in a fit of rage and that he was going to be okay. But he knew that he wasn't going to be okay. He glanced at the few things he'd scrawled in the past week—all the same words. No physical change. It was a small blessing.

We coulda left. It coulda just been us. No—he knew better than that. There was no reality in which he could have stayed with Riddle. The ghoul violently crossed out the line, not wanting to lie to himself in the journal. Maybe somewhere down the line, but not today. Not when he's supposed to be writing for his future self.

He was gonna turn. Not this time, but it would've happened.

He remembered just how curious Riddle was when he was a kid. Defiant, always reading. He'd remembered going into bookstores every time he went to town, trying to figure out what he'd like. In the end, he rarely came back with anything. His goldfish had been an enigma. Books for kids his age were a waste of time. He remembered a day when he'd brought home a fantasy book for him and the puzzled expression as he turned it over in his hands. Even then he could tell Riddle hated it, but he hadn't been able to hold back a laugh as the young boy tried his best to be thankful. It was strange the details you lost over the years. Book titles, what he was wearing, what he'd even said exactly. And it didn't even take long to forget—details could be lost the next day.

Or maybe I would've killed him.

Maybe he already had in a way.

Floyd glanced back towards the body laying on the ground, taking note of how hungry he was. This was the safest option for Goldfishy. He didn't know what he would have done if he had to stand over his small lifeless body like he had the poor guy who's house he'd stolen. He'd already tried multiple times. He'd even sank his teeth into him and it had taken all of his might not to tear the muscle from his body. Riddle had soothed him, running his hands through his hair. He'd always admired how brave he was. How unafraid to die.

Even when Riddle brought him back, he couldn't stop himself from the blood right in front of him. And what had really unsettled him was how ready the younger boy had been to continue where they had left off.

The ghoul reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the one thing he'd dared to take. He spun the short stem between his fingers, watching the center of the rose as it spun. It'd gotten a little wilted in his pocket, but it didn't matter. He remembered how hard his goldfish had protested starting a rose garden, though he seemed to love it in the end and it matched him so perfectly. When he was mad, Riddle could almost blend in with the petals if he hid in the bush. Floyd chuckled at the thought, wishing he'd have insisted they try it.

The teal-haired boy flipped through the pages until he was near the end, placing the flower in the back to press it into the pages. It wouldn't last forever, but it'd last long enough. Maybe at that point he could even go back and get another one.

Floyd flipped back towards Riddle's page, staring at the blank space near the end. Lips pressed tightly together as he took in the one thing he wished he could have said before he left. For Riddle's mother. For Riddle. Even for the sea turtle.

I'm sorry.

The jikininki let out another sigh, closing the old journal before resting it on the arm of the leather recliner. Floyd unfolded himself, stretching as he stood up. He couldn't let his dinner get any colder.