Miss Gardener and Mister Singer

Death and I are now standing inside the school's music room, watching Boss and the younger me (mainly the former) prepare for the talent competition a few hours after the memory.

Thankfully, no one from the competition was using the room to practice for their performance, or if they were, they probably scrammed off the moment they saw the two notorious delinquents of their high school planning to occupy it.

"So…" Boss said awkwardly, scratching his head. "Do you play any instruments?"

"Why?" I asked back. "Want me to accompany you? Why not ask Bassel to do it instead?"

"I was making small talk, you dumbass." Boss shook his head, face-palming. "I asked you a question; don't give a question back in return!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Sorry, sorry! No, I do not know how to play any instruments." I paused, thinking. "Although…"

"Although?" He raised one of his thick eyebrows at me.

"I used to garden!"

There was a long silence. Boss gave me a judgmental look.

"W-what?!" I demanded with a stutter. "Why are you giving me that look?!"

"Gardening is not an instrument, Vermillion." Boss pointed out. "You gave a very far-off answer to a simple question."

"At least it's a hobby!"

"Right," Boss said in a tone that wasn't as if he necessarily believed me but was merely entertaining me.

"Is it weird?" I quirked my head to the side, just like a confused puppy. "I tend to give answers to questions that, in my mind, answer the questions perfectly well. But in reality, what I said ended up being unrelated."

Boss shook his head, but not because he completely disagreed with me.

"I wouldn't say 'totally,'" Boss replied. "I can see what you meant when you said that playing instruments and gardening are hobbies... But did it answer my question? No. Absolutely not. Is it weird? Absolutely yes. But do I understand? I think it's because you're smart, so your brain tends to work differently than us dumbasses."

I frowned. "I don't know what to feel right now. Also," I added. "I don't think I'm smart!"

"Right," he said in that tone again. "I heard rumors that you were top of your batch again in the latest exam, but the teachers didn't let you get an award because... well."

"I'm a delinquent," I finished for him.

Boss nodded hesitantly.

I sighed deeply, shaking my head.

"School politics, am I right?"

"I wouldn't know," Boss snorted. "I always failed in class."

"REALLY?!"

"Don't 'really' me!" Boss scoffed. "Troublemakers always have trouble in class. You're the weird one, not me!"

"I don't believe in stereotypes, Bosu," I said, placing my hand on my hip. "Just because I cause havoc in my spare time doesn't mean my ability to study well has left the door."

Death looked at me, amused.

"I remembered you saying something similar to me."

"You're just justifying your weirdness." Boss chuckled.

"I'm not!" I pouted, crossing my arms. "I just like studying!"

"Who even likes studying?!"

"I do!"

Boss rolled his eyes. "Aside from you, dumbass."

I continued pouting.

"Hey," Boss said out of nowhere. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you prepared for my answer that doesn't answer your question?"

"This is a yes or no question; a weirdo like you won't have a hard time answering it."

"Hey!" Evangeline frowned. "But what is it?"

"Can you… help me with my homework…?" He asked, his voice full of embarrassment. Just as I was about to answer, Boss turned his back to hide the redness of his face.

But from behind, I can see the pinkish hue of his ears.

I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Boss blushing. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability I hadn't seen from him before.

I took a moment to savor the moment before replying; my voice was playful and teasing.

"Well, well, well," I drawled, crossing my arms and adopting an exaggerated contemplative look. "The infamous Boss asking for help with homework? Now, that's something you don't see every day."

Boss huffed in response, not turning around to face me.

"I swear, if you start laughing or making fun of me, I'll—"

"You'll what? Beat me up?" I interrupted with a grin. "Don't worry, I won't hold this against you. We all have our weak spots, after all."

"I knew I shouldn't have asked." Boss muttered under his breath.

My expression softened.

"Hey, I'm just messing with you," I assured. "Of course, I'll help you with your homework. Just let me know what you need help with."

Boss finally turned back to face me, his cheeks still flushed.

"It's math," he muttered. "I hate math."

"Math, huh?" I looked up, thinking. "Well, lucky for you, I actually like math. What part are you struggling with?"

"Not now, Vermillion." Boss grimaced. "Just thinking about what the fucking topic is called is causing me a headache."

"Sure!" I grinned. "Boss, I have a gardening tip for you." I said it out of nowhere.

He turned around with an eyebrow raised. "Gardening tip? Seriously?"

"Yep!" I nodded, a playful glint in my stormy gray eyes. "Just remember, plants need attention and care. Just like your studies."

Boss rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Right, right." He repeated it, but this time without the mocking tone. "Thanks for the life lesson, Miss Gardener."

I grinned.

"You're welcome, Mr. Singer."

"Do you have any song choice in mind?" Boss asked, entirely out of nowhere.

I couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows.

"What?"

"For the talent competition," he clarified, his tone filled with timidity that was so unlike his usual cool self. "I want you to choose the song that I like as a way of thanking you. For teaching me." He added it as an afterthought.

"I haven't even taught you yet." I pointed it out.

"Think of it as an advance payment."

I hummed, contemplating deeply.

"How about a song you'd like to dedicate to me?" I paused. "Please not that 'Fuck You' song by CeeLo Green."

"It's a school talent competition, Vermillion." Boss frowned. "Even if, hypothetically, that is the song that I want to dedicate to you, the teachers would probably expel me for even attempting to sing it!"

"Just kidding!" I chuckled. "How about just surprising me when you go on stage?"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, get out of the room." Boss suddenly commanded.

"What, why?!" I exclaimed.

"It wouldn't be a surprise anymore if you heard me practicing the song."

I pouted but saw his point, so I left the music room.

The next time they saw each other, I was part of the crowd that grew when they discovered that Boss participated in the school's talent competition. Maybe they were curious, and perhaps they wanted to ridicule him.

I wasn't sure which was what.

All I knew was that when I watched Boss standing in the middle of the stage with a microphone in hand, I was blown away by how perfectly it suited him to be there. From the crowd, our eyes accidentally met.

I gave him the 'good luck!' hand signal, and Boss gave me a thumbs up in return.

He sighed deeply before turning to the side of the state to gesture at Bassel, who was in charge of the sound system, to play the instrumental of the surprise song he chose for me.

Soon, the song started playing.

The song's intro was composed of a chorus of trumpets, which was soon followed by the beat of the drums and rhythm guitar. It didn't sound familiar at all, but it sure as hell was catchy.

Then... Boss sang.

"What if I've told you that I've fallen?"