On rainy days, I volunteer to take care of the flowers on the rooftop. Iris always says he’ll take my place, that the air on the roof is too cold, but I ignore him and go anyway—though there’s really nothing there for me to take care of.

As the rain falls onto the plants, I stand back with my umbrella and watch, unable to do anything else. I could always go back inside, where Iris would patiently wait for me after completing his tasks, but there was always the possibility of walking in on Iris when he’s weak.

I don’t like seeing him weak, much like I don’t like being weak before him.

Today, Iris seemed to have run out of patience. As I “supervised” the flowers, I heard the trapdoor open. I turned around, watching Iris step onto the rooftop with his own umbrella. “I told you it was cold,” he frowned, walking to my side.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie to him. I was freezing, even with the thick jacket he had lent to me in replacement of my thin one. I hated the cold and it’s breeze that stung my face and lungs. “I’m fine with it.”

“Your face and your eyes are saying two different things,” Iris mumbles, staring down at his shoes. They were old, almost completely worn. I had asked him before why he always wore the same pair and he had always replied that they felt familiar, almost as if the shoes were an important part of his life.

“Iris,” I called his name, also staring at his shoes. “When will you buy a new pair?” I already knew the answer, but decided to ask him anyway.

I had thought he’d be annoyed by my question, hearing it come from me repeatedly, but he wasn’t. Instead, he smiled when he heard it and looked up at me. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think I ever will.”

“What will you do when they’re completely worn?” I asked.

“I’ll continue to wear them,” he says. “I don’t plan on getting rid of them any time soon, and I believe my thinking will remain the same.” I nodded and knelt down, observing his shoes. “Daisy, what are you doing?”

“There’s a whole in your shoes,” I said, raising a finger and poking the whole. He stared at me, both shocked and amused. “There’s water falling on your toes.”

Iris laughed and I looked up at him as soon as I heard that sound. He had closed his eyes and tilted his head back, a smile resting on his face as laughter came out of his mouth. I liked seeing him that way, smiling. It made me believe that things were okay—both for him and me.

“Are you going to buy me new shoes now?” he asked, smiling down at me, his eyes meeting mine. I shook my head and pulled my hand back to my side, letting it touch the puddle beside me.

“No,” I said, standing. “I’ll fix them instead.”

Iris was surprised by my answer, his smile disappearing for only a second. However, it didn’t take long before it came back. “Do you know how to fix shoes?” he asked me.

“No,” I replied. “But I’m willing to try.”

I could tell the shoes meant something important to Iris, even if he hadn’t exactly told me himself. The way he refused even as he stepped on the puddles on the rooftop, clearly uncomfortable that the water was getting into his shoes—there was no doubt that he was emotionally attached to them, much like a child is to a toy.

So even if I wasn’t a cobbler and didn’t know how to make of fix shoes, I was willing to try for him. And if that meant I’d have to fix them again and again, I would, because I would do anything to see his beautiful smile, the one that makes the flowers bloom even on the rainiest of days.