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Rated: E · Short Story · LGBTQ+ · #2324116
A story of guilt and forgiveness in a relationship, with gardening as a metaphor.
Todd sat in front of a wilted fern, his hands covered in soil. The late afternoon sun cast long, dappled shadows over the garden, where the vibrant green of potted plants contrasted with the warm, earthy tones of soil and terracotta. His fingers trembled as he gently stroked a leaf, but his mind was elsewhere.

The crunch of gravel and the soft swish of bike tires on grass signaled an arrival, but Todd didn’t turn around. His stomach twisted with a mix of guilt and nerves - Rhys had returned home. The sight of Todd, usually so confident and carefree, now so subdued and heavy with shame, tugged at Rhys’s heart.

“Hey baby,” Rhys said, his voice a mix of relief and hesitation. “I’m back.”

Todd’s heart skipped a beat, his gaze fixed on the fern. "Hey.”

His mind raced with thoughts and fears, as he desperately wanted to apologize and explain himself. But where could he begin? The words felt too fragile to bear the weight of his guilt.

Rhys sat down beside him, the earthy aroma and the faint scent of flowers enveloping them both. He glanced at the plants, their quiet beauty offering a small measure of comfort.

"I see you moved my ferns," Rhys said, eyeing the drooping leaf. Todd’s gaze lowered to the ferns in front of him, guilt and shame welling up once more.

"Yeah..." he mumbled. "Looked like they needed some attention... thought maybe I could fix it..."

Todd’s heart felt heavy, each breath a reminder of the burden he carried. The silence between them was thick, until Rhys spotted the shears lying on the ground beside Todd.

"Were you trying to do some pruning?" Rhys asked, noticing a few missing fern leaves while others were trimmed by half. Usually, Rhys handled the hands-on gardening while Todd preferred to watch from a distance.

A small pang of guilt washed over Todd, thinking he had likely done more harm than good. "Um, yeah... I thought it needed some trimming..."

"Oh no, that's a good thing," Rhys reassured him. "With transplanted ferns, you cut away the dead leaves and branches. Then you trim the fern in half so its roots can settle in the new soil. That way, the plant can continue to grow."

Todd’s eyes widened slightly. "Really? I had no idea..." He looked back at the ferns, feeling a mix of embarrassment and awe. "I guess I just wanted to help. Didn’t know there was so much more to it..."

Rhys smiled softly, the tension between them easing. "No, you did the right thing. Just like with plants, sometimes we need to cut away the dead parts of our past to grow stronger."

Todd nodded slowly and swallowed hard, the guilt and shame still there but now accompanied by a flicker of hope. "Yeah, I get what you mean...” He paused, then added quietly, “You like gardening a lot, don’t you?”

Rhys smiled warmly. “Mhm. There’s something incredibly soothing about it, y’know? Watching something grow and thrive because of your care…it’s rewarding.”

Todd’s eyes softened at his boyfriend’s smile, which brought some comfort to his troubled mind. He hesitantly reached out, his hand finding its way to Rhys’.

“Do you think… we can fix it?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Rhys gently squeezed Todd’s hand, drawing him closer. “We can. But it’s gonna take time and effort, just like caring for plants.”

Rhys' touch spread through Todd like a comforting balm. He nodded slowly, heart swelling with hope. “Yeah…time and effort…” He swallowed hard, pausing before continuing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Todd took a deep breath, bracing himself for the question that had been eating away at him. “What do you think of me…knowing what you know now? About who I was before we met? Do you think any less of me?”

Rhys's eyes softened as he considered Todd's question, taking a moment before responding, his voice measured and calm. “Honestly? It’s a lot to take in.” Rhys sighed and gently squeezed Todd’s hand. “I won’t lie to you, Todd. It was tough learning about how smug, arrogant, and insensitive you were back then. And it brought back...very unpleasant memories.”

Todd nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah, I know. And I get it. I’m so sorry, Rhys. For everything.”

Rhys’s expression softened, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve changed a lot, but it’s not just about feeling sorry. It’s about facing what you did and making amends.”

Todd’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t wanna be that person anymore...”

“I believe you, Todd. But it’s gonna take time. And that’s okay - we’ll work on it together.”

Todd felt the weight lessen, and he pressed his forehead against Rhys’. “Thank you, Rhys - for understanding, and giving me a chance.”

Rhys smiled and kissed Todd’s forehead, before pulling back slightly, eyes still locked with Todd’s. “There’s something I wanna show you,” he said, standing up and extending a hand to Todd.

“What is it?” Todd took Rhys’s hand, curiosity piqued. Rhys led him towards the greenhouse, which Todd admired but never truly explored. As they entered, warm, humid air enveloped them, carrying the rich scent of damp earth and blooming flora. Rows of colorful flower pots greeted them, each brimming with life—succulents with thick, fleshy leaves; small, spiky cacti; slender bamboo stalks; and vibrant flowers in a wide array of hues.

But what Rhys was eager to show was sitting on a table near the tool shelf—a shallow dish cradling a tiny, unassuming seed. “It's a vine seed. The packet never specified what kind of vine it was,” he admitted. “It just had ’mystery vine’ written on the front.”

“A mystery vine, huh?” Todd mused, his eyes fixed on the seed. “How intriguing. I wonder what kind of plant it'll become.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Rhys said with a smile. “But I’ve been waiting for the right moment to plant it. And I think that moment is now.”

“The right moment, huh?” Todd raised a brow. “What makes this the right moment?”

Rhys’s lips curled into a warm smile. “Shall we plant it together? I was thinking we could plant it in the trellis outside.”

Todd’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that.”

Once they gathered the tools and stepped outside, they knelt by the trellis, their warm, firm hands working in harmony to plant the mystery seed. And as they gently covered it with soil, Rhys wrapped an arm around Todd’s waist, pulling him close as they shared a hopeful glance.
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