I'm in town, again, looking for these special flowers that the last victim killed. Sure, I partake in cannibalism, it was part of my original culture, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings or treat them like humans. I was taught that partaking in such acts were sacred, so I don’t feast upon the human flesh very often. But back to the flowers, I’m looking for Irises, the flower of France. The boy was French and loved his country very much, but had to move to the United States because of the job opportunities his father had here. I didn’t originally plan on taking the young boy's life, just his mother's. She was a wicked and cruel person, having harmed many, many innocents before. But the boy had just gotten in the way. It hurt to take his life, but he would have run to the cops and this culture doesn’t like the killing of fellow humans. I’m not going to feast upon his flesh, just the mother, I gave him a proper burial, but I thought he would have liked these flowers to join him in the afterlife while his mother rots in the

Depths.

I hear from Angelica, the nice old lady from the bakery that I occasionally help out at since I love the baking experience, that on the corner of 34th St and Fourth/Fifth Ave is a boy that grows the most beautiful of flowers. She also tells me he has the voice of an angel, saying that he usually sings in this little booth, waiting for someone to arrive and share the beauty of the flowers and small plants. And I hear from her wife, Susan, that he grows flowers from France. His mother is a sweet, beautiful French woman that used to come to the bakery and talk to the customers. It was a small town and everyone knew her, so they didn't mind the company she offered. She liked to share stories, ones either of herself or of her father, Raul, he liked to travel. I nod and thank them for sharing this information with me. I head down to the edge of the town where the booth resides, humming a song to myself, hands in my pockets. It’s not too long before I arrive.

From about ten feet away, I can hear him sing. Angelica was right, truly something angelic. I slowly approach him, not to scare the lad. He has his eyes closed, but I can tell he knows I’m here. I let out a small ‘hello’ and put my hand to shake his. He opens his eyes, gets off of his stool, and gives my hand a firm shake before letting go. I had either been too close or too far away before, but now as I see him, he’s beautiful. As wonderful as his singing, his eyes sparkle with the little light that shines through the cracks of the wall next to him. He’s a bit taller than me and his smile is breathtaking. He doesn’t seem like the type to be into flowers, but he also seems so at home in this little area with the flowers. I can’t stop staring; I had never met someone so amazing. I’m in awe, I had felt this way before, in a past life with past lovers, but never in this life did I think I'd be falling for someone.

I’m lost in my thoughts until he waves his hand in front my face and says:

“Hello? Earth to Stranger?”

I shake my head a bit, clearing my thoughts before responding. “I apologize I just have never seen such a beautiful creature, and if I have, it was probably in a dream. Am I dreaming right now?” I put my hand up and pinch it, I felt a ting of pain. “Okay. Ow. Definitely not dreaming. Then I’m dead and with an angel!”

The blush on his face grows and he shakes his head saying:

“Yeah, sorry. No, I’m not an angel, and you’re not dead, but did you want any flowers?”

“Oh yeah, silly me, but do you have Irises like the ones that are the flower of France?”

“Ah! It happens that I do. What’s the special occasion for these flowers?”

“Oh well I knew this little boy, and he was from France, and he passed away recently.” my voice cracks. I’m having trouble holding back tears. He should have been there.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward because we just met, but do you want a hug?”

I nod, some tears slip out before I’m full on sobbing. I hold onto him like I’m dangling off a cliff and he’s the ledge that was keeping me alive. He doesn’t want to cause trouble with the shop, so he closes up and walks me to his house behind the booth. He sits me down on the chair on his porch, I hold onto him until it’s dark and I’m able to recollect myself.

“I apologize for intruding on your time and making our first meeting awkward.”

“No. It’s fine. You are dealing with a loss. I know what it’s like. It’s fine.”

“Thank you for sticking with me, even though we are strangers.”

“It’s alright. And we sort of bonded. Also, it’s dark. I've heard you live far out; do you want to stay the night? It’s fine if you don’t, I’d get it if you didn’t want to, we just met today.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t stay, my roommate might get worried. But could you take me home. It’s far away, but I have a bike… It’s just a suggestion.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but how would I get home?”

“You could stay the night. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

“Alright, but I’m going to inform my mom.”

I watch him walk inside of his house, hear some light chatter. A little while later, he comes out with a jacket and he changed his jeans to sweatpants.

“Alright. I left my bike at Angelica’s Bakery, so we’re gonna walk there first.”

“Okay.”

While we we’re walking to the bakery, we made some light talk and got to know each other better, then just some sobbing.

When we get there he has a surprised look thrown upon his face.

“You know when you said bike, I thought you meant bicycle, not motorcycle.”

“How would I fit two people on here?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t really thinking about that, sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Catch” I toss him my second helmet that I keep with me, just in case I picked up a hot chick. But an angelic flower boy is good too, no, it’s better. I hop on my bike and pat the space behind me. He gives me a bit of a scared look, but gets on with no issue.

“Zip up your jacket and wrap your arms around my waist.”

“Oh. Okay.” He does as I say, he wraps his arms around me hesitantly, but when he does, his grip is tight.

I start up the bike and speed off into the darkness, my lights shining us a path, not much of one, but I know this road quite well.

Soon, we can see my house in the distance, the porch light is on and W.’s window has a light. When W. waits for me to get home, they usually leave the treehouse lights on, so I can see our house from far away.

We get up to the house, and I park my bike in the garage. I open the back door and yell out to W.

“I’m home!”

W. comes in a tumbling hurry down the stairs.

“You said you were going to be home in an hour, it’s been ten. Who the fuck are you?”

“Well you see there was an emotional breakdown and this is ummm, flower boi.”

“Um, actually, names Jake, Jake Fleur.”

“Jake from State Farm?” W says this with a shit eating grin on their face.

“No. Just Jake.”

“Welllll. You seeee Wuuuuuu. Flower boi is staying the night, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

I give W a good old stare, the look on my face screams, ‘BOIII, YOU DIDN’T JUST.’

“Fine, but don’t mess anything up or be too loud. You two are out of here immediately if you are.” W then mutters. “Also make sure you use protection.” Just loud enough for me to hear.

“Alrighty.” A happy, upbeat tone springs out of my mouth. I drag Jake upstairs and we head to the roof. I step out and offer my hand so he can get up here. He grips onto my hand tightly, fear evident on his face. I tug him up here and lead him to the little bridge that connects the house to the tree house. Balancing, I make it across.

“Jake it’s fine, just cross. I’ve been across this bridge many times before.”

“But-ttt-t you leaped this time.”

“Yeah. so I could get over faster and help you.”

“Fine.” This comes out with a firm tone. He quickly crosses and on the last step, he comes tumbling forward, landing on the bean bag. A short laugh comes out of my mouth. He gives me a short, half-hearted glare before laughing with me.

After a while of laughing, I extend my hand toward him so he could get up. He grabs my arm and drags me down with him, we’re in a tangled laughing mess. We fall asleep in this tangled, yet happy mess on the bean bag.