Seventeen kept himself out in the garden as a distraction. He couldn’t stop thinking about how large the world was. How many people lived in the cities and buildings. All he wanted was to be left alone. Rufus and the Turks were acceptable company. But sometimes even that proved stressful. At least the plants understood. They didn’t speak, yell or make a sound. But they were beautiful. Maybe they could help him tell Rufus how he felt.
Rufus watched from between the slats of the blinds on the second story balcony doors down to where Seventeen was tending the ever growing garden. It had started so small and disheveled, and was now flourishing under his clone's careful attentions. Just one more area where they truly differed. Rufus had no luck with plants. He was armed with plenty of theory, of course, but they didn't whisper to him they way they did Seventeen. Maybe it had something to do with the mako treatments.
Even so, there was still something there that Rufus could pick up on. A softness that wasn't there before. A happiness unknown. Rufus might not be able to read the flowers, but he could read R-17. Something had changed in him from when they first encountered one another. And it had changed things between them.
Not for the first time, Rufus wondered what it was he was waiting for. Seventeen was well and adjusting. They'd grown closer. He really didn't have much to lose.
But he was upstairs, and Seventeen was in the garden. Maybe tomorrow he'd offer him some flowers to tell him how he felt.
