Bloody hands

10- Cold Water

Ken stood over a patch of pink camellias, water can in hand as he distractedly irrigated them. He then crouched down in front of the flowers, touching the soils to make sure they were humid enough. A small affectionate smile curved his lips as his chocolate eyes gazed at the delicate petals. 

His love for gardening started when he was but just a child. His mother would tend to their garden every Saturday morning with the greatest care and he enjoyed joining her, even if just to watch and learn. At some point it had become their ritual and they would be outside planting whether it was raining sun rays or actual water.  However the more attention the dark haired male gave to his passion the more bullies he seemed to attract.

Now that Ken thought about it, this was to be expected. He had always been different from boys his age. He was more sensitive and seemed to be the epitome of a cry baby, furthermore he liked flowers and was shy like a doe. This possibly made him the perfect pray for his classmates in need of reassurance regarding their ego. Now he wasn't trying to make excuses for these guys who made him their victim, but he wasn't the kind of person to hold grudges or to express his anger or resentment. He already had enough feelings to keep on check, focusing on his hatred would only render his burden heavier. 

However there was one thing his bullies did gifted him. (Y/n). Without them he felt like he would never have gotten the chance to talk to her or even get close to her in the first place. After all, before this fateful day, even if they had always been neighbours, she never looked his way or even knew about his existence. But during this fateful afternoon, her pretty eyes were only on him. However it was such a shame she had to see him in such a state. 

It was on a Monday after class. It was the beginning of their first year in elementary school and a group of boys he knew well had decided to greet him in their own way. They had backed him up behind the school's grounds and had proceeded to give him some hurtful words he hadn't even been able to process due to the pain his tiny body was enduring under their punches and kicks. But he had heard what they had to say a fair amount of time to know what they had probably voiced. 

'Cry baby'

'Freak'

'Weirdo'

'Coward'

'Binoclar'

When they felt their victim had received a fair amount of beating, they had left him on the ground, crying and whimpering, lonely. 

However, after a few minutes of him wiping off his tears and letting out hiccups, (Y/n) had taken a seat beside him on the ground. It was the first time her sweet voice was actually destined for him, and him only. 

He could still remember her beautiful (e/c) eyes full of worry and focused on him as she inspected his bruised lips and bloody nose. She had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he had flinched, unintentionally. At the time, he had despise her presence, he hated that her first impression of him was this poor beaten up weakling. Couldn't she have acknowledged him before ? Like this she wouldn't only think of him as a victim. 

However what he loathed the most was that, for a moment, he expected her to mock him and leave, like everyone did. No one ever seemed to care about his classmates' abuses. 

But she had given him a sorrowful smile, full of kindness and empathy, before retrieving an immaculate handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiping the blood under his nose. Meanwhile, his eyes had been set on her gentle features, the cute crease between her brows as she focused  on tending to his bruises and scratches, the way her eyes shadowed with worry when he winced, how her delicate fingers would graze his pale skin every now and then.