Chapter 14 Ren #4
It wasn’t until Blossom appeared on the path ahead of them, her face damp and flushed with exertion, that something finally changed. Pansy flinched, as the sound of her name, cried from Blossom’s mouth, registered with all the force of a punch to the gut.
All Pansy managed was a weak, “I can’t do this,” uttered in the thinnest of whispers, before she turned on her heel and ran.
This time, Ren let her go. And when Blossom moved to follow her, they put a hand out to stop her and shook their head. “Don’t.”
Blossom seemed almost offended by the suggestion, the knots plaguing her brow oscillating between annoyance and genuine confusion.
“I just wanted to apologize,” she explained, stiffening beneath the weight of Ren’s stare.
“I’d planned to drop off a letter, once all this”– she waved a hand around her – “craziness was over. But then I heard that Pansy was here, and so I thought to try to catch her in person instead. I ran all the way from where they’re setting up tonight’s feast.” A beat. “Did – did something happen?”
Part of Ren wanted to laugh, mirthless and sharp. Did something happen? The question sounded even more stupid the second time around. But Blossom hadn’t been there; she hadn’t seen. In fact, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of Pansy herself, and from a distance at that.
So Ren forced themself to nod, to tuck away the part of themself that had been left jagged and sharp, for they were as much a blade as they were Pansy’s shield. And they said, “Give her time.”
Ren caught up with Pansy a little way outside town, just far enough that Haverow’s burrows could almost be discounted as nothing more than distant hills.
She sat in the middle of the road, curled in on herself, her knees tucked against her forehead so tightly it was a wonder she could even so much as sway in the breeze.
But Pansy wasn’t a statue, stock-still and made of stone.
Her shoulders heaved around every sob, tearing through her like a saw-toothed blade through bark, while the rest of her shuddered with the desperate gasps that followed, made only to fill her lungs with enough air to repeat the cycle anew.
Ren said nothing as they knelt down beside her. As far as they were concerned, it wasn’t necessary. The hand they brought up to rest lightly against her scalp, smoothing out her hair with tender strokes, said everything that needed to be said.
“That feels nice,” Pansy mumbled at last, her voice clotted with snot and tears.
“Nana – my clan’s leader, I guess you could say – used to do it for me whenever I couldn’t fall asleep,” Ren explained, their voice as gentle as their touch. “I always found it rather soothing.”
Pansy let out a honking sort of laugh. “Trying to put me down for a nap?”
They shook their head. “Just trying to help you feel better. Even if only in some small way.”
“Yeah,” Pansy said after a beat, the word riding away on a wistful exhale. “I know.”
“Is it helping?”
She sniffled, shrugged. “A little. It’s just—” Her voice cracked, emotion once again flooding the splintered web today’s events had left behind.
Seeing the way her lips trembled, spasming around the mere shape of the words she wanted to say, Ren took it upon themself to finish them for her. “Today didn’t go as you hoped.”
She nodded. “I knew my plan was stupid. Deep down, I knew it. And don’t look at me like that,” she chided as Ren opened their mouth to protest. “It was stupid. Stupid in the way children’s dreams are, or hoping for the impossible to come to pass.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming,” Ren said gently. “Or hoping that things could one day be different.”
“Then why does it hurt so much?”
“Because it matters,” was all Ren said, the hand stroking the top of Pansy’s head an ever-enduring constant.
“Did I ask for too much?” she wondered aloud, her nails digging half-moon crescents into the skin of her upper arms, left bare by the puffy sleeves of her blouse.
“All I wanted was for them to see me for who I am – to look beyond the differences, my apparent flaws, and see all the good that’s in there too.
Just once! It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and they couldn’t even give me that. ”
As Pansy’s forehead dropped once more to her knees, Ren shifted closer, the bright seed she’d planted in their heart reaching out for her with gleaming tendrils.
It ached, seeing her like this. But there were some wounds not even Ren could shield her from.
All they could do was soothe the resultant sting.
Dropping their hand to her shoulders, Ren pulled Pansy into their chest and, with lips grazing the crown of her head, said, “I see you, Pansy.”
She choked, her shoulders shuddering with the force of another sob.
“I wanted them to see you too, Ren,” she whispered.
“To see you the way I see you – all your kindness, your wit, your determination. I should’ve…
I should’ve told them. Maybe they wouldn’t have listened, but at least I’d have said it, you know? ”
“You told your parents. That’s what matters most to me.”
Ren didn’t know how long they held her there, sat in the middle of the road with nothing around them but the breeze and birdsong.
Certainly long enough that Pig, still hitched to the wagon, trotted over to investigate.
She dug her snout into their lower back, a gesture fueled as much by concern as by impatience.
Figuring that Pansy wouldn’t appreciate the feeling of a cold, slightly damp nose pressing into any part of her, Ren shooed Pig away with a half-muttered admonishment, unwilling to relinquish their hold on Pansy until her sobs quieted into wet, shaky hiccups.
Eventually, they did, and soon Pansy’s breathing trended towards something that could be called even. Swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, she raised her head with an embarrassed-sounding sniffle. “Do you like pumpkin pie, Ren?”
“Do I—” Ren started to repeat, their eyes briefly widening in surprise before understanding dawned upon them. They smiled. “I love it.”