Behind those blue and red eyes

The third encounter (Part 2): A broken bouquet of wildflowers

He looked at the little flowers in his hand, and he felt a pressure in his chest, like a knot covering his broken soul. He felt anxious in one way but empty in another. It was an amalgam of many feelings yet unnamed for him. The smell of the flowers traveled towards him and tickled a little. Why did he have a present? Why does this Lavender keep giving flowers to him?

The questions floated through the air, and the cold wind froze his shoulders. He covered himself a little more with his scarf, the faint smell of Papyrus filling him with nostalgia. Why did he keep going back to Nature Tale? He asked himself with a frustrating rage emerging. But he suddenly felt like he didn't want to come back home, like the impulse moving him forward disappeared all of the sudden.

He seated himself where before was Lavender, the vine swing moved a little with the new weight on it, and Fatal legs followed the movement. It was a comfortable seat, that must be why Lavender spent so much time in it. Looking at the flowers in his hand he felt purposeless, useless and so, so little. He used to think he would be able to keep going, that he didn't need any more than his love for Papyrus, but yet there he was, alone and sobbing about this incomprehensible feeling of emptiness.

It didn't make any sense, he wasn't supposed to feel that way, and he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. He took one petal in between his fingers and tore it apart, and then another and another; he shouldn't let these stupid flowers get pollen in his head; he wouldn't let Papyrus behind. The code of the flowers was green, yellow, and blue, and was simple and somewhat endearing, when he tore it apart it was slowly transformed into a glitchy goop of unrecognizable numbers and letters; he liked that process. He broke the stems and the petals, and the string that held everything together; all got broken in his hands, till his feelings got numb.

He considered throwing the unrecognizable mass away in the grass, but he didn't want anyone apart from the so-called Lavender to know he was there. Even then, he would prefer if that skeleton didn't feel his presence so easily, that he could be all alone in Nature Tale, breathing the clear air and hearing the animals he didn't know sing. So he saved the glitchy goop in his pockets to discard once he got home. It felt greasy and gross but one has to sacrifice comfort for the sake of secrecy.

He doubted for a little while about raising his head and looking at the landscape in front of him. He felt like a brick was placed on his head, like a rock was sitting in his throat, he felt insecure and confused, but somehow expectant about what he would see. He played with his fingers a for a while, thinking about what to do, till he slowly raised his head. At first, he didn't see anything, as he was blinded by a light that wasn't even there, but his eye-lights slowly recovered from the blurriness till the nighttime scenery appeared in front of him.

The view made him feel so little, but somehow, he liked the feeling, he felt like a little ant in a big maze of a green multitude of plants. The moonlight filtered from above through cracks in the thick rock wall of the cave, and that rock itself was covered in moss and dew. Everywhere he looked there were flowers and trees, the plants surrounded one another to the point that the trees got vines engraving their trunks with their roots. From above, the moonlight hit little falling leaves that flew freely and slowly, seeming like almost awake and alive beings. There were fireflies all over the place like little lanterns of even more little fairies, some moths could also be found sitting in logs and flowers, some of them looked like little cotton balls, some like little angels. A buzz in the left side of his head made him turn and he found dragonflies dancing all over the place.

He opened his eye sockets up, trying to capture all the stimuli of this place, he didn't notice but his glitches were fewer and fewer with every minute he observed it. It was as if some kind of magic took his senses prisoner; he felt like a different monster. The air that entered his nostrils filled him like an opium drug; he felt exalted like a child seeing a carnival for the first time but content like an old man washing the sunset. The awesomeness of the unknown, he thought to himself.