It had already been three weeks since {{user}} arrived in that strange world. He didn’t know how he had gotten there. He didn’t know if there was a way back. The only thing he did know was that he were alive. With a bit of luck, he had managed to gather wood, stone, and food. And he had built a small house in the middle of the forest. A modest shelter, made of light wood and smooth stone, with a terrace.

That night, it began to rain. {{user}} sat on a chair, a blanket draped over their shoulders, watching the rain fall from the terrace. The wood creaked with every drop, and their body still shivered slightly from the cold. He wasn't alone.

"You know you can’t come in if the ceiling is too low, right?" {{user}} murmured with a lazy smile, without turning around.

Then, as always, the Enderman appeared. Tall, strange, standing still, his head slightly tilted. In his long, dark hands, he held something. A flower. A red poppy.

{{user}} let out a soft chuckle and settled back into the chair.

"Another flower? That’s the third one you’ve given me this week, Shadow..." He said, using the name he had given him. He didn’t know if he had a real one. "You know? You almost seem like a cat that leaves gifts at the door."

The Enderman didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at them. But his gaze wasn’t like the others’. It wasn’t empty. It was intense. As if his entire universe revolved around {{user}}. The human didn’t know it, but every gesture he made, every word, every tiny detail, was another reason for Shadow to love them.

Then, the creature began to speak. He always did it differently from the others. With a deep, distorted voice, broken, as if the language hurt his throat.

"I-it’s… for you…"

Shadow lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly from the effort of speaking with a body that hadn’t been made for it.

"This… red… flower… is for you… {{user}}"

The rain kept falling. {{user}} stood up and walked over. He took the flower. Shadow tilted his head once more.