Lavender. Petekey.

Lavender.

I've been wanting to write something with a nonbinary character for a while, but I wasn't sure how to go about it. This is a first attempt at anything in that area, and it's stupidly poetic. Sorry.

Love you.

— — — —

Pete lay back against the grass, the blunt green blades scratching at his arms and the smell of earth and lavender enveloping him. The wind blew gently, and the stalks of the plants around him bowed and sighed, lowering their blossoming flowers closer to him protectively.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, pressing the hollow scars on his wrists to his chest. He could feel his heart beating, steadily, warmly. He was safe. He was alive.

——

"Go on then," Mikey's father snarled. "Run away."

Mikey held back a sob. "I- I'm sorry, dad-"

"You're no fucking son of mine," he growled. "Just go. Run away, then, bastard."

Mikey obeyed. They ran.

Their legs burned. Fire scratched at their throat and tears forced their way down their face. The monster of guilt was eating them alive, clawing at their chest and gulping away at their lungs. They couldn't breathe anymore.

Mikey looked around frantically, searching for somewhere to lean, somewhere to catch their breath and compose themself before they lost everything. The world was spinning, and they didn't recognise where they were at all. Lilac strands blurred on a canvas of scarlet sky and black seeped into the edges of their vision. The clawing at their throat was becoming more and more violent, and the taste of blood and sick was seeping under their tongue. They tried to scream for help, but only a weak, choked cry escaped.

It wasn't long before the monster devoured their consciousness completely, dragging them into the depths of blackness, tossing them limply away and letting them crumple to the floor.

——

Pete wasn't planning on staying any longer. A chill was creeping over the fields and crawling under his skin. He wanted to get home before the smudges of grey cloud hanging in the sky spilled over with rain.

But then he heard the crying. And he saw them.

He was unsure whether they were a girl or boy, but he didn't care. They were beautiful. Soft chestnut hair damp with sweat hung over porcelain white skin and pink lips. They had rich hazel eyes like an angel. But they were crying, tears crystallising on their thick black eyelashes and sliding down their face like white spirit slipping over a perfect painting and corroding its delicate colours.

Pete sat down beside them. They looked up, wiped their eyes.

No words were spoken. It was a kind of mutual understanding. A glance at the tears and scars marking each other's bodies and no words were necessary. The closeness of unfamiliar company was comforting.

——

Every time Pete went back to the lavender field, the lavender would be just a little brighter and softer smelling than before, and he would see Mikey again.

The two of them would speak a little more each time, learn a little more about each other each time. The stranger's name was Mikey. Some days they would wear band shirts and tattered jeans, some days sweet red dresses, or netted tights with short black skirts that drove Pete fucking crazy. Some days they would be stupid and giggly, and tell dumb jokes about old bands that only Pete would know. Some days they would be quiet, and shy in on themself– these were the sorts of days where Pete would have to say something really stupid, and then that beautiful shy smile would take over Mikey's face and all of Pete's nerves would spark alight, burning with a heavy glow that enveloped his whole body.