' mistletoe ' [ I'M GONNA SLAM DUN K THIS HERE LM AO ]
|| @salsvs - send me mistletoe for my muse’s reaction to yours kissing them - closed !!
His time spent locked away in his bedroom had not been particularly kind to his mind, his body, his overall existence. It had taken a toll on his ability to remember simple things... The day of the week had become something easy to forget. Daylight felt like a night sky; sunshine could pass for a warm evening. Drawn curtains made a dark room feel like a dungeon. His own personal prison that he had confined himself to living. He supposed this must be his fault. Karma had decided to play a cruel joke.
Having enough time on his hands, Tsukiyama often found himself drifting away from reality, wishing he had done this or had done that. He daydreamed of how things might be different if he had tried harder or had not been the weaker of the two. It might have saved Kaneki. He might have been able to make him stay. Foolish wishing. Terribly foolish.
One cannot convince another to remain by their side. People are not meant to be kept.
A familiar heartbeat reached his ears before she arrived, stepped into the room after a quiet knock upon his door. Shuu should be eternally grateful to her and the rest of the Tsukiyama family staff. He knew he had become quite a burden with how much care he required. It was not always like this. He was not built to be fragile. His last name equated to a mountain, the moon. Beautiful and massive and yet -- he felt more like a forgotten hillside than something of immense grandeur.
“Karren...” The mere utter of her name, her true name, had her stopping in her footsteps; a flower arrangement held steady between her hands. She must have assumed he would still be asleep or possibly unwilling to socialize with anyone. It was unfair to her that he had become like this. It was unfair to everyone involved.
Quietly, Tsukiyama watched as she moved toward his bedside and settled the elegant vase of flowers on his night stand. There was no doubt in his mind that she must have done this herself, selecting each flower carefully for him. The variety of flora had his brow raising, however, noting the obviousness of an approaching holiday.
“Christmas roses, pine, mistletoe...” Tsukiyama named each component of the arrangement, reaching out a hand from beneath the sheets to caress a soft petal before moving onto the gentle prick of pine. “Tree of Nativity; love, fertility, health... And Christmas roses, I see. Madelon did not have a gift for Christ. An angel appeared and bore this flower from the snow for her to give. Quite a bit of folklore, non?” There was always meaning in Karren’s flowers. Neither of them spoke honestly; they were not truthful people. It was easier to hold back than to give in.
