You (YouTube One-Shots)

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Was it a mistake? Surely it had to be. You froze in your tracks, standing in the threshold of your front door. Your eyes were cast downward towards the doorstep. Towards what was lying there, on your welcome mat.

There was a deep red rose lying there, placed delicately so that the petals would not be crushed beneath their own weight.

This can't be for me. It can't. But I'm the only one who lives here...

Gently you stooped down to pick it up, admiring the beauty of the flower. It had clearly been handpicked carefully, not a single thorn to be found on the stem. But surely whoever had delivered it had the wrong house? You didn't have a boyfriend or any roommates to speak of. You preferred to live alone, truth be told. There had been no knock at the door, no letter written for the rose's recipient. Just a single bloom left at your door.

How mysterious.

You brought the thing back inside, cutting off the bottom inch of the stem before placing it in a tall glass of water. It was a beautiful thing, really, and you couldn't stop yourself from admiring it. But who had given it to you? You knew that this would be on your mind all day, but really, maybe that was the whole point?

With a sigh you tore your gaze away from the rose and headed for the front door. You checked the mailbox to be on the safe side, just in case, but there were only bills within.

I'm sure someone will come forward at some point. They have to.

~♡~

But all day you were expectant, hoping that the mysterious flower giver would finally reveal themselves as you ran your errands for the day. You even settled yourself into a quaint little coffee shop, right by the large picture window at the front in the hopes that the admirer would come forth. You sipped your beverage slowly, watching all the people walk by with an intent look in your eyes. No one came forward, whether inside the shop or out.

Maybe it really wasn't meant for me.

This thought was saddening, and you found yourself dragging your feet as you finally walked home from the coffee shop, a bag of groceries in hand.

Still, the rose was lovely, and you could only admire it as you put the purchases away. Even if it wasn't meant for you specifically, you could pretend, right?

How exciting. To have a secret admirer, I mean. Fuck, I wish this were really meant for me.

Your phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message. Curious as to whom was contacting you, you checked it with a slight frown.

[Did you get my rose?]

The number wasn't listed in your contacts. Your heart began to pick up speed as you read the text over and over again. It really was meant for you, after all! [I did. Thank you.] you replied, your pulse in your throat. You were excited now, knowing that the beautiful rose was intended for you.

[Good. I hope it made you happy.]

[Who are you?] You had to know.

[I can't tell you. I'm sorry.]

Well that was disappointing. You frowned at your phone, expecting another message of explanation or even maybe a more thorough apology. When nothing came, you set your phone back into your pocket, thinking things over.