+ Author's Note: This is bad and unedited. P.S. you can look up all of the flower names!+
Ashton grew roses outside of the mansion because he liked peaceful things. He had studied them for years. He knew their meanings and their true names. From "Cheshire" to "My Valentine," Ashton could name any of the beautiful, soft-petaled plants.
Ashton was the gardener for a rich man with many boyfriends. His name was Calum, and Ashton envied the man tremendously. Not because of the numerous boyfriends, but because of all the attention he received. Ashton's only friends were his roses.
In fact, Calum didn't even greet Ashton sometimes and he was his boss.
Calum's boyfriends were endless. He had a type, for sure. He liked curly hair and soft bodies, and Ashton thought they all looked the same. Well, all except Luke.
Luke was the smallest of all of the boyfriends. His curls covered the tips of his ears, and sometimes he'd sit over the balcony after his his bath. He always wore the softest silk. Calum kept him showered in riches. He was, of course, his favorite.
Ashton admired Luke every day. He always watched from afar, deciding which style of rose he looked like that day.
On that particular day, with flushed cheeks and a short dress, Ashton thought he looked like "Belle de Londres." "Belle de Londres" was a sweet, salmon rose with apricot tips. They were easy to grow, and they were immune to diseases.
Ashton especially enjoyed the days when Luke smiled at him. They never spoke, but he would always give Ashton a sensual smile. It sent chills down his spine.
Ashton fantasized about holding Luke in his arms and kissing down his neck, pushing the silk off of his shoulders and touching wherever he could. Ashton thought Luke was perfect, even if they'd never speak a word to each other.
+
Calum and Luke got into a fight on the night of Calum's birthday. Luke's sapphire eyes were all watery. His heart-shaped lips were puckered in a pout, and his dress was falling off of his shoulders. Ashton thought Luke looked magnificent. He, of course, was not allowed to be around the guests. He had to stay near the tray of champagne flutes.
It hurt him to watch Luke beg for something from Calum, only to be shot down.
"I'd give it to you," Ashton murmured. Luke's round hips shook over towards the bar counter suddenly, and Ashton lost air.
"Hi, can I have one of these?" Luke's voice reminded Ashton of a Canary-yellow rose. He grabbed a flute in his shaky hand and slowly passed it to Luke.
Luke gave him that smile again.
"Thank you," the blonde cherub gulped the alcohol down in seconds. His eyelashes were wet, and his curls looked like they had been tugged vigorously. Ashton couldn't help but want to baby him, but not a word would slip from his mouth.
He watched as the most perfect boy sashayed back onto the ballroom floor.
+
Ashton was so frustrated. He smoked a whole back of cigarettes, beating himself up over not speaking to Luke. The cherry of a new one lit up the dark garden. He would never blow smoke near the roses; he was always very careful.
Ashton let his suspenders fall from his shoulders and dangle at his hips. He only had on a white button-down and slacks. He had thrown his blazer over the tree swing. He never knew how the tree swing got there. He assumed a family owned the place before Calum; he didn't want to ask either.
And as his last cigarette burned out, the gardener got an idea. Staring at a deep, violet rose, he smiled. Ashton threw his cigarette away properly. The flower was a Moody Blue rose. It symbolized longing, sadness, and unrequited love.
