#secretlykept

".....run! you still have time to get out of here!! victor....---- i swear if you get caught..." his heartbeats drop for a second at the mere thought of not being able to save him, of losing him, of seeing him getting hurt; and it is in that moment that with the little strength he has left in his legs, he gets up and is ready to run the best he can to the opposite way in order to distract the hunter. ".....leave me alone! i'll distract the hunter for some seconds ...... get out of here!"

          there was no time to thank him, there was barely any time for victor to regain his own strength, body moving on its own & stumbling away from the chair that had been mere seconds from bringing about his death. it hurt so bad, seeing andrew take such a blow while right in front of him, still pushing through the pain to free the POSTMAN despite it all. why would you do that-- i don’t want to lose you, andrew!      even if he wanted to stay by the GRAVEKEEPER, make sure he wasn’t chaired & left behind, he’s still injured; he doesn’t have any sort of special thing to help him rescue his teammates, not in this state. he’s useless... why would andrew waste the time to rescue him, if there was little hope he’d make it out himself? victor arrives at the exit gate while clutching his stomach, nursing the deep wound sharp blades left in their wake. he should just leave. the other two already left, it’d be a win if he just WENT.

          it’d been terrifying. sure, sometimes someone would get injured badly and their fellow teammates would fear for them, but this was different. this wasn’t someone that the others instantly noticed would be missing-- and even if they had, the grounds that last match had been so large... wick could’ve been anywhere, left alone to suffer, forgotten by everyone but him--      victor tried to go back and look, but he never got far, the curfew in place sending the postman back indoors, even if he fought against it. can’t fight too much. you wouldn’t be good dead. not with wick still out there.

          he’s not sure how long its been now, sitting in the garden, tears long dried on his face and stained into his sleeves. he can’t give up, he keeps telling himself that, but he was already so tired, bones aching and head heavy from crying-- he couldn’t imagine being without his best friend, the only one here he felt he could talk to, he didn’t want to be alone again, not in a place like this....      and, as if on cue, it appears someone has joined him in the garden. he doesn’t want anyone else here, if it’s not wick he doesn’t care, no one else cared that his best friend could be dead, a sweet dog that loved him and probably did more to help the others than victor did himself-- he didn’t look up at first, instead rubbing at his eyes to brush away the last evidence of his tears ( it didn’t really help, his face was still as red as could be ), about to give the GRAVEKEEPER a look of annoyance at being bothered--

          if he’d been alone, he’d have sobbed right then and there, seeing his dear friend again, injured, but alive! he was alive, and the gravekeeper had found him-- silent tears began to streak down his cheeks once again, arms quick to gingerly cradle wick to his chest. funny, even when wick was the one injured, he tried his best to cheer victor up, licking at his chin and wagging his tail with all his might. it made him laugh, a soft sound that barely held up through the broken sobs, trailing off into quiet hiccups. fuck, he was so relieved, absorbed in the fact his friend was still alive, that he almost missed how quickly the other began to leave.      usually, victor would let them go, leave him alone with the one friend he had... but it felt wrong to this time, his hand shaking as he reached out, lightly grabbing andrew’s sleeve in an attempt to get his attention. even wick seemed surprised by this, looking up at him with a curious whine.

          was that andrew? the POSTMAN had only caught a glimpse of someone leaving the dining hall when he returned, & he could’ve sworn it was andrew... why had he been rushing? victor hopes it isn’t because he was coming back in; he’d hate to have scared the other off... that is, until he notices the slight change of his bag, moved ever so slightly closer to the edge of the table, with a few flowers peeking out from within.      his heart skips a beat, the thought that followed those two realizations bringing a warm blush to his face. no... that was just wishful thinking, hoping the two could be connected-- but... he so badly wants to believe it. so, so delicately does he take the bag within his hands, lifting the flap to retrieve the flowers. he didn’t want them to be crushed, after all... forget-me-nots, huh...? victor didn’t have to be an expert in the language of flowers to know this one, having seen them displayed in different homes & living areas when he worked.

          protection, luck, & remembrance. gaze falling to the invitation for tonight’s match, victor can’t help his smile growing, flowers cradled close to his chest & his blush coloring the tips of his ears pink. if it was someone else... he was thankful they were so worried about him, & would love to thank them in person... if it was... the GRAVEKEEPER...      he glances over his shoulder again at the door exiting the dining hall, wondering...

          flowers had started randomly appearing at his door, tucked neatly together by a little ribbon to create a makeshift bouquet. er, actually, he’s not exactly sure if it was random; it hadn’t happened to any of the others ( as far as he knew, he just never saw any other rooms receiving bouquets like him ). either way, the POSTMAN began to think it may mean something... & headed to the garden himself to observe the flowers there!      perhaps he could pick out his own little bouquet & leave it by his door, so whoever it was that had started delivering him flowers would get their own in return. as a sign of his thanks!

          yet it seems someone else had the same idea of visiting the garden at this hour, victor freezing in place so he could see who it was before continuing-- oh... the GRAVEKEEPER... instantly he softens, the smile on his face becoming less of a placeholder, & more genuine the closer he got. andrew was timid much like himself, victor knew this, taking note of how quick he was to leave a scene when too many people showed up, or when tensions became high. so he was gentle in his approach, a casual saunter down the path while only looking to the other to make sure he was not closing in too quickly.       treating the other how he’d want someone else to treat him; carefully, not forcing him into any sort of interaction. it looked like andrew came to pick some flowers, too... how sweet! perhaps he shouldn’t bother the GRAVEKEEPER, it’s not like he had much to really say anyways... but he didn’t want to come off like he was ignoring him!

          so, when the albino turns his gaze even slightly victor’s way, he waves with one hand, that sincere smile still visible on his features. he hopes that’s enough to get his attention, signing something quick & simple. something andrew could easily ignore or reply to, whatever he pleased!