𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 | sano shinichiro ✓

𝟬𝟳

The weather is familiar, the sun is out yet breezy wind flows, trees swaying and sunlight peaking through its leaves, giving a glistening effect. Cars pass through the streets and some people are seen doing morning runs, restaurants and cafes are open and people of all ages start to wake in the lazy 10am of Saturday.

A sigh escapes a girl's lips as she stands there with five red roses in hand, he had been the one giving the flowers throughout the five years of their relationship, so it's her turn now, right?

"It is lucky number five after all."

She mumbles so faintly, voice devoid of excitement and eyes heavy from the dark bags under them. Slowly bending down until she is in a kneeling position, she faces the grave, placing the five crimson roses on it.

Flowers do fade and petals do fall, they crumple and wrinkle until all that is left is its corpse. This happens to every one of them, even the flower of love is not immune to it.

Of course, they take years to decompose, so her heart is filled with these now wilted flowers, the fallen and wrinkled petals and thick stems, stems with sharp thorns that used to be bearable. Bearable because the flowers are much bigger than silly thorns, but now all that is felt are the thorns. The scarlet roses that symbolize love are long gone, its vibrant red turned to an almost faded black.

The final flower to have bloomed in their hearts was also red, but it did not symbolize love. Its style differs much more, petals long, thin, and curled, bulbs poisonous and many antenna-like things curled upwards around its whole. These flowers are red spider lilies, and they may look interesting but they are dangerous. If red roses mean love, red spider lilies mean final goodbyes.

Commonly associated with death, these flowers are said to grow where people part ways for good, so no wonder they were the last thing to sprout in the couple's hearts. They even bloom in late summer, the season where this couple just wanted to celebrate their fifth anniversary.

Still, her loved one's death is not justifiable. They were soulmates, and falling victim to robbery sounds like the most tragic way to die. Not only had she least expected him to be robbed, since most thugs in the delinquent world knew of him, but murdered? It seemed so far-fetched.

Yet here she is, in front of whatever remains of him, five roses on top of these remains. As she stands up, a voice is heard behind her.

sting

"Big bro.." It's Mikey.

the thorns sting.

"Big bro meant to give this to you.. on your fifth anniversary." He says, handing the familiar bag.

they stab and pierce and hurt the heart.

A smile that not quite reaches the eyes is what she casts the boy, they are both in such deep states of grief. "Thanks Mikey."

that instead of the red rose outshining the red organ,

Swallowing what seems to be the thorns in her throat to avoid breaking down, she starts walking out of the cemetery, giving a small wave without looking back. "I'll be going now."

it is the blood from its sharp thorn instead.

Walking back to her house, she looks into the bag, already knowing what is in it by what she see's. A small jewellery box, its exterior made of velvet. She holds it, it looks expensive.

Finally, she lets the tears fall as she opens the box to see just as she expected; an engagement ring. Her reddened eyes swollen from all the tears she had shed, the ring made of white gold in her hand does not help.

'Weren't we just celebrating his life a month ago?'

fuck this world.

The sun was out, trees swaying and glistening in its light with flowers blooming in late-summer, wind breezy yet not too cold. An all too familiar weather for the grieving girl. Eyes casted towards the sky and with all the breath she can release through the tears, she says in the faintest of whispers;

"happy five years."

The date was September first, the girl 'celebrated' the couple's fifth year anniversary by offering five red roses to his grave.

And the date was September first when the fields and forest of flowers in her heart fell, all withered and wilting with the boy she loves, leaving her cold and forced to live with its piercing thorns.

red spider lilies; the flower of death