Rose

Chapter Two: Juliet Is A Guy

Weeks later, after Rose not only found 9870 Range street but moved his few belongings into it, he stood in the back of the shop, putting together a hundred or so corsages for the high school prom the next week. He had earbuds plugged into his ears while he worked, playing whatever his deactivated phone chose for him. He often accidentally poked himself with needles and flower thorns, but Ruth assured him that there was really no avoiding it. He wasn't a fan of pain, or the plasters wrapped around his fingers to soak the blood. Nevertheless, he did quite like the simple, mindless task, repeating the same steps necessary for these rose and baby breath floral accessories.

In the front of the store, Ruth looked up to see her nephew, still wearing his clothes from work, walk in, shoving his baseball cap on his head.

"Hey, Ruth. How ya doin'?"

"Just fine, Alec. Rose is doin' corsages for prom, so I'm finally taking care of the books."

Alec furrowed his eyebrows, transferring his toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his lips. "Who?"

Ruth threw her head back, slapping her forehead. "Oh, have I really not told you?! I got a new assistant! Oh, and I made a note of it too! Y'all are gonna hit it off, I'm sure of it."

Alec nodded, repressing his groan behind his mouth. Another girl that Ruth wanted to set him up with, exactly what he needed.

"Rose!" Ruth called, facing the "Staff Only" door behind them. "Rose, come out here!"

Nothing. Ruth rolled her eyes. "Oh, probably got earbuds in, like always. I'll be right back." Alec let his aunt leave, checking his phone while he waited. For the past several years, his entire family -not just his aunt Ruth- had been setting him up with various females his age around town. He had hated it. He talked to them out of sheer obligation, but made some excuse and deleted their number, taking deep breaths in the bathroom mirror. He didn't know how much longer he could put up this facade. The long nights of anxiety and planning were beginning to get to him, but he feared what might happen if they ceased. Oh, all the planning...

He wanted to come clean about everything he had been hiding, but how to do it? He had thought about it endlessly. On stage at the bar? Shooting everyone a quick text? Elegantly, at Christmas dinner or something like that? And yet, so many Christmases had passed -eight of them, to be exact- and Alec was still living in secret. He was still scared of people's reactions. His landlord could kick him out, his family could turn their backs on him, he could lose all of his friends, he could lose his job, so many things could happen based on one little personality trait.

He had hoped that he could have a hand to hold if everything fell apart, but he couldn't bring himself to actually ask someone out. He had his crushes, sure, but his crushes always had other crushes, and those crushes were always the ones that had crushes on him. It was an endless, bitter cycle, one that he couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. So, Alec Everland played stick straight, even when he wished for something else.

When Ruth came back out, the stranger in tow, his toothpick fell out of his mouth. Rose, who he expected to be a blonde, pretty southern girl, was instead a short, frail man, wearing a falling apart denim jacket over his work shirt. He was smiling up at him kindly, his elegant ebony hair dusting his graceful, fair skin. His eyes shimmered like brilliant emeralds, peeking out from under his long, thick eyelashes, like canopies of beautiful tragedy. He had sharp, refined features, yet a gentle, kind face. His ring and index finger were both wrapped in blue bandages, the faintest bit of blood showing through them. He wore a pair of dark gray jeans, baggy though they were supposed to be form-fitting. On his feet were a pair of worn-down motorcycle boots, splattered with mud, decorated with a patch on the left heel.