𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒎; byler

1.

They were the prettiest of flowers in the queen's garden, and he was the prince, choosing a bouquet of artfully arranged blossoms for the queen.

They were a sea of fresh-faced, singing flowers in the depths of Wonderland, and he was an explorer caught in their un-earthly charm.

They were-

beep.

they were just flowers. and he had just wasted precious moments staring at them, and now mom's toast would be cold and he didn't even need any flowers from the wall today.

he stepped away from the wall, sighing greatly as he stepped to the other side of the room. it was only too easy to start weaving stories in his mind, and he didn't have time for that- especially not today when the beautiful flowers weren't even needed for his mother.

he reached under the wooden desk to retrieve a small, wooden box and opened it without hesitation. In it were three branches, filled with the delicate pink flowers of the cherry blossom.

he took them out of the box, carefully putting them in the glassy vase he had picked out. then, his hands gentle plumped out the petals in an attempt to make them look fuller.

it didn't help. the flowers looked pale, colorless in comparison with the flowers on the wall.

Will really didn't like cherry blossoms. True, when he saw them hanging on the branches of hundreds of trees in japan, so tightly packed in their overwhelming quantity he thought they were incredibly beautiful. But not like this. not pale and dainty in the vase, not when he could've cooked up a gorgeous daisy-sunflower arrangement in minutes.

but alas, they were his mother's very favorites. and so he always made the utmost effort to find them.

and when he did- like today, he knew her happiness would be worth the effort.  he didn't get to see his mom happy very often; and if the slightly bland and pastel pink flowers of the cherry blossom were the cause of her happiness, he thought as he carried the tray of freshly prepared food and vase of flowers up the stairs hidden in the back, it was worth it.

"Mom?" he asked, knocking on the wooden door. no response- but he had known there wouldn't be. he pushed the door open, careful not to spill the glass of orange juice on the tray, and stepped into his mother's room.

it was dark, as it always was. he set the tray on the small table by her bed and stepped to the small window, pulling the curtain to let the rays of comfortable morning sun in. he stared outside for a minute. it was a beautiful morning- they didn't get many sunny mornings like these, especially not in winter. he looked to the rolling green grass visible behind the store, and suddenly remembered a day that looked just like this one: a sunny morning years and years ago.

in this sudden-hitting memory, there was him and his brother, chasing each other on the grass. laughing even when they tripped and fell, for there was no pain in a beautiful morning like that one.

and there she was, lounging on the picnic blanket behind them- his mother. his beautiful mother, her brown hair waving in the slight winds, her dark, chocolate eyes turning light in the sun. and she was laughing too, with her sweet laughter and her smile, sweet and kind. her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. he knew she had been happy because his mom was always happy when it was her and her boys. and he knew that he had been happy too because there was nothing in the world that could have upset him when they were all together, when there were sun and grass and his mother's freshly-baked bagels waiting in the picnic basket behind her.