"For your mom?" Ivy asks.
I nod. Always bring flowers. Started as a way to have something to do with my hands during visits, and because my mother liked them.
Now it's just... routine. Habit. Something normal in all the fucked up abnormal.
The shop smells like earth and green things, that heavy floral scent that makes my eyes water even through the mask. Floral scents and alphas don't mix well. The elderly woman behind the counter recognizes me—hard not to when you're seven-foot-three and wearing a mask—but she doesn't say anything. Just nods. We have an understanding.
I move toward the pre-made bouquets while Ivy wanders deeper into the shop. Pink roses today.
My mother used to grow them in our backyard, before…
"Wraith?" Ivy's voice pulls me from the spiral and I glance up, blinking the blurry vision away. She's standing by a display of stuffed animals, holding a small brown teddy bear with a pink bow. "Do you think she'd like this?"
The question catches me off guard. I nod, heading for the checkout counter. Can't manage more than that. Sometimes my mother gets set off by anything new, but Ivy herself is new, so if it's going to be that kind of day, a plush bear won't make a difference.
Outside, cherry trees line the walkway to the care facility. Pink petals drift down like snow, catching in Ivy's hair and in the fibers of her cream-colored scarf. She stops walking, tugging gently on my hand.
"You need a minute?"
Fuck yes, I need a minute.
Need a year.
Need a lifetime.
But I just nod, moving to lean against one of the trees. The rough bark presses through my hoodie, grounding me in the present instead of the past that's trying to drag me under.
Ivy stands in front of me, still holding my hand. Cherry blossoms swirl around her like she stepped out of a dream.
Too beautiful.
Too perfect to be standing here with me.
"What are we going to tell her?" she asks. "About who I am?"
Good fucking question.
Haven't thought that far ahead.
Can barely think past the next breath.
My free hand moves slowly.F-R-I-E-N-D?I suggest, then add,I-F... Y-O-U... W-A-N-T.
She smiles, this soft thing that makes my chest ache. "Is that whatyouwant?"
The question hangs between us.
Cherry petals keep falling, one landing on her shoulder. I reach out to brush it away, my massive scarred hand looking obscene next to her delicate neck.
What doIwant?
I want to run. Want to die, sometimes. Want to protect her from seeing what I really am, what my own mother sees when she looks at me.
But I also want... more.
Things I don't deserve.
Want her to be mine.
