Dandy..?

*In Dandy’s room, where the infamous flower had locked himself into recently, it is dark, messy. Books, glass, photos, vials, such things litter the floor, intact or damaged. Dandy himself is curled in the corner, clutching his petals as he twitches. He’s lost mentally, his eyes glazed and rounded, a pinkish undertone in his sclera. His tail swishes against the hardwood floors. Ichor stains dandy’s cheeks. His hands are clawed, the ends of them digging into his petals. Not like he cares.*