This book contains oneshot collections of RoseKook. This is made to satisfy your craving towards the ship.
You can request what kind of situation the oneshot will be, and I'll try to make it. ENJOY!
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The sky was as clear as a pearl. The weather was so fine. . . unlike Rosé's health.
A five foot six woman was blankly staring at the cloudless sky, unsure if she had the energy to even admire it. Two weeks into the summer season and she still hadn't found a single reason to go back out to the fields again and have that lovely smile all throughout the day. This summer wasn't just for her, one could say. And yes, it was true after all.
Rosé sighed before standing up from the stool she'd been sitting on for hours, and delicately moved away from the window. She found the sun to be too bright, too unrelatable, too obnoxious. Despite finding herself hilarious regarding with her impression of the particular star, her mind pretty much agreed with her on that one.
However, her beating heart. Her beating heart. It was doing something. Poking. Calling. And when her consciousness picked it up, she realized she suddenly had the urge to take a peek at the blue sky yet again. And so she did. The weather wasn't bad, at least. Out on the streets were little children playing, chasing each other in circles, tumbling down. People were greeting and waving at each other, genuine smiles and hopeful expressions on their faces.
It didn't baffle her. She was aware. Aware that summer wouldn't be as exciting anymore, as much as she used to love the season. Biting her bottom lip, she heaved a deep sigh once more, feeling every bit of that breath leaving her mouth. It was her training; to be perfectly ready to feel the lightness of her body as soon as she drew her last breath. And that would be months, weeks, or even days from this moment. She was still yet uncertain.
All she knew was that her year would end a little shorter.
"Miss Rosé, Miss Rosé!" One of the children called from below, pointing at her. It was Mrs. Anderson's seven-year-old son, June. With his height a little shorter than his other same-age friends and his build inclining more on the chubby side, he sure looked like a cute fluffball. His friends, whom Rosé also had already been familiar with, scurried right away and gathered together. Each of them excitedly called her, greeting her with genuinely animated smiles.
Rosé smiled back at the children and modestly waved her hand. "Children, how are you all so excited to be playing under the sun's unforgiving stare? Look at all of you, so sweaty!"
"I remind them every day, oh Miss Rosé," Mrs. Anderson entered, her thick Aussie accent drawing attention to the children, even to some passersby. "But even my dearest son June who's fully aware of how easily he gets ill doesn't seem to care at all."
"But with that, getting ill comes with experience!" June defended.
Rosé and Mrs. Anderson both shared a surprised look, taken aback of the child's intelligent response. "Oh, he's a witty one, isn't he?" Rosé asked, a rather sincere—though small—smile appearing on her face.
