𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑶𝑵𝑬𝒀, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔

❀ 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑺 𝑳𝑬 𝑱𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑰𝑵 𝑽𝑶𝑳 𝑰𝑰 / 𝑮𝑬𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬

dans le jardin vol ii
༊
'65

it was never dull in the garden. whether you were being tantalized by the great, fat leaves that spoke greenly to you from where they grew in the thick black dirt, or laying among the sweet peas that hugged you with sweet melodies of the wind as it whispered past their fine white stems, there was always something special to behold. today was no different from those other days, though much more laborious and smoldering.

you were knelt side by side, garnering red roots slayed from the summer heat, and tossing them behind you. he wore a scuffed pair of jeans and a baggy work shirt, the long sleeves ballooning around him with each gust of the humid air. the both of you wore sun hats, protecting your hair from frying like bloodied pork on the skillet. though you felt like an old lady, the amount of times either of you suffered from sun stroke was enough to get you to wear the droopy things. and besides, it was fashion!

when you finished, and your fingers were gasping for life under the dirtied gloves you wore, george left and arrived back with two full glasses of golden juice in honor of the tautly pungent chinese oranges that plopped all over your yard in the wake of the new season. he crossed his legs as he sat beside you again and you took the glass he offered with a smile, cheering to yourselves with a pretty little clink of the rims as they kissed to your fortunes. to bounty. to life.

as he sipped, his eyebrows wiggled goofily at you and you couldn't help but giggle at him, your teeth colliding softly with the gape of the glass. you felt replenished as the juice colored your insides with a cold, tangy rush of felicity like the splatter of fresh paint welling from its christened canvas. there was nothing sweeter than the fruits of your own labor. you learned that quickly when you moved in with george.

"mm, how is it, my love?" he crooned, the titian bruising the white of his fangs as he gulped it down and smiled.

"wonderful, george, really. it's just delicious!" you marveled, shaking your head. examining the glass from afar, you glinted at the tiny specks of pulp still swirling at the bottom, connecting together and swimming under your gaze as you rocked the glass back and forth gently and watched the drink swish about.

"silly girl," he said, a teasing lovingness filling the air when he spoke. you grimaced endearingly and he met your forehead with a kind kiss, "my silly girl."

when you saw him next, he was leaning on his side, stretching his legs out and petting an array of fresh petals, still wet from the morning dew. you watched knowingly as he drew his lips nearer to the curious bud which seemed to be leaning into his mouth for his abundance of oxygen and warmth. he began speaking to it, quietly, unintelligibly and he smirked when he saw you gaze at him.

familiar with this charade, you found your own patch of flowers and cupped your mouth away from the precious onlooker a few feet from you. the two of you whispered to each of your little pupils, earning giggles and gasps from each one in your mind.

she has the world's prettiest eyes

i remember the first time he looked at me, i nearly fell to the floor!

she should wear those shorts more often

sometimes i never want him to stop talking... i could listen to him forever.

"i want to marry her."

"what?" your head cocked up as quickly as the english rains fell. your eyes went wide, though there was nothing short of a mad grin curled about your lips.

george scoffed, "oi! this is my secret over here, thank you!" he shook his head and fanned you away with his hand, rolling his eyes playfully.

"george! what did you say?" you cried, grabbing onto his pant leg and tugging at him urgently. you crawled up to him and straddled his waist making him thrust his head back and laugh, his belly chortling happily under your weight. when he looked at you finally, your hands pressed against his chest and he grasped your fingers in his own, speechless at the way your eyelashes blanketed his face without even touching him. he kissed your knuckles and caught them beneath his skinny palms, still cool from the sweat of the glass.

after a deep breath, he smiled again. "will you marry me, y/n?"