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A Dr. Iplierst Drabble

The garden behind the manor was always lovely this time of year. Spring showers caused the blooming and rejuvenation of the flowers that had temporarily died and retreated during the winter months. Pinks, blues, reds, and all sorts of other hues popped up across the garden, a nice accompaniment to the soft greens and yellows of the vines and grass that began crawling their way back up.

The pathways’ cracks always managed to get weeds in them at the beginning of the season, which was always a pain to deal with. After years of doing it, you tend to just give up and allow nature to do its thing. Dandelions and various wildflowers sprouted out amongst the weeds as well, so it wasn’t too bad in the end. Those sorts of things were inevitable anyway, so might as well let them be.

Despite the fact that The Host could never truly appreciate his surroundings, his narrations the closest thing he had to sight, he still came here to write when the weather was nice. All the noises and smells filled him with a certain sense of inspiration that his library simply couldn’t provide. The smell of the flowers right after the rain had fallen; the sounds of King’s squirrels running along the fence; the sound of his own footsteps hitting the stone path and the occasional puddle; all of this filled him with such joy and hope that he couldn’t help but write.

He didn’t get this opportunity as The Author, yet another thing that separated him from that horrible, demented man. Living in a cabin in the middle of the woods didn’t exactly make for a great time outside in the rain. The area around his home always got muddy and made it hell to walk through if he needed to walk to town for anything. The trees’ leaves always collected water that dripped unpleasantly down the back of his neck and soaked the back of his shirt. Overall it put the already bitter man into a worse mood than he already was.

Here, in this garden, The Host didn’t have to deal with that. The Host could sit there, content as could be as he enjoyed the area with the senses he could appreciate it with. The sound of pencil or pen on paper was somehow even better accompanied by the sounds of water dripping from vines and the chittering of squirrels. It left The Host with a calm mind and relaxed muscles. 

One may think that the garden and its solitude would be just perfect for The Host, which he, at one point, would’ve agreed with. But now that his metaphorical eyes had been opened, he had to admit that the sound of his boyfriend walking over to ‘his’ bench in the garden made him far happier than the rustling leaves did. Occasionally, the clinking of spoons on ceramic came with the footsteps, a sign Dr. Iplier had gotten them both tea. That was perfection to him now: the company of Dr. Iplier in this calming garden.

“The Host turns his head as he hears Edward’s approach, smiling softly as his lover comes to sit next to The Host.” He narrates, a soft smile coming to his face as predicted as Dr. Iplier came close. “The Host inquires about Edward’s day as Edward hands Host his cup of tea.”

Dr. Iplier chuckled gently as he sat beside The Host, handing him the not-to-hot cup of tea over to him. “It was good, shockingly. Henrik and I had the same shift today, so I got to work with him. No patients were lost, so that’s a plus as well. How was yours? Don’t tell me you sat out here all day..” He hummed, leaning his head gently on The Host’s shoulder.

The Host took a sip of his tea, the familiar mix of cinnamon and caramel warming his body. He sighed softly, letting the warmth spread through his chest before he spoke, “The Host will not confirm nor deny Edward’s suspicions.” He said, tone lightly teasing. “Can Edward blame him? The garden is a calming presence to The Host when Edward is off saving lives at the hospital. It’s simply inspiring.”

Dr. Iplier let his eyes roll out of habit, but he couldn’t truly be mad at The Host. He had to agree with him on the calming aura of the area, but he couldn’t agree with the fact The Host probably hadn’t gone inside to even eat or change his bandages. With this thought in mind, he gently reached out and held the hand that wasn’t occupied by the mug. 

“Well, once we’re done with our tea, we should probably head inside. I’ve had a long day, we both need to eat, and I want to get your bandages changed.” He said, knowing that trying to drag The Host inside now was likely not going to happen.

“The Host supposes Edward is right, and he thanks him for allowing the two to sit outside as they drink.” The Host said, allowing his head to rest on top of Dr. Iplier’s. “The Host loves Edward..”

“I love you too, Host..”

I'm gonna sit here, in my doubt, because this has way to many notes to reach me.

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