roses. | eren x levi

roses. | sixty-eight

following that day, i knew i had done something wrong.

the roses had advanced and did precisely what the doctor had assumed they would achieve. with one thrust at my own mouth, and gawking at myself in the mirror, i realized that i would never articulate again.

the groove above my upper lip was now stabbed and gushing; it stung worse than anything i felt before. vines extended out of the vast holes created and went downwards, generating a masked impression that trapped my voice no matter how loud i screamed.

i attempted to cover it by the time mr. rose appeared, though many had already questioned and ridiculed me about it already.

this day was very much peculiar. on this day, i didn't sell thirteen roses to mr. rose. he gave them to me.

he showed to always wear professional raiment now. was this what it is like before matrimonies? had he simply done this to satisfy his fiancee? does mrs. rose fancy acknowledgeable men? or is it because of his beauty in a suit?

was his fiancee only courting him for his precipitous and absolute elegance?

i looked up at the ceiling and cleared my mind. i was hypothesizing regarding something i had no business in once more. it was absolutely a shameful weakness of mine, to nitpick all the imperfections and vulnerabilities of mrs. rose, and insisting i would be a much more suitable suitor than her. 

"uh, here, mr. florist."

he thrust the roses at me, essentially shoving them into my chest. they were twinkling in their own remarkable ways, vigorous and red like no other rose i had ever observed before. i permitted myself to simper, and formulate a message to him.

thank you, mr. rose. where did you get these from?

"i'm returning them, i guess. i, uh, got them from you. your body."

what do you mean? are you returning flowers to me?

"no! i would never — i think your flowers are really pretty — but i felt like it was wrong for me to keep them."

although he was once again conversing in exceptionally enigmatic tones, i examined a flower by its scales and its thistles, then turned to him.

"do... do you remember that time that you... y'know?"

threw up and passed out on the floor?

"for lack of a better explanation, yes. so, uh, after i cleaned you up and sat you down in the back and everything, i didn't know what to do with the roses on the ground. so i just, um, took them home, i guess."

my eyebrows raised and i scribbled another instantaneous sentence.

so you're telling me that you picked up thirteen of my vomit roses, walked them home, put my vomit roses in a vase, and brought them back to me?

he nodded timidly. "i also watered them, i didn't know if they needed more or less plant nutrients since they're from your body, but, yeah..."

i shook my head and snickered. he was too favorable for his own good, a happy-go-lucky philanthropist. i didn't even understand how to manage a man such as him anymore.

planting one of his hands into mine and using his other to hold the paper still as i wrote, i granted him one conclusive embrace and sent him away.

you didn't have to do that. you'll probably get sick, with my bacteria being on you for so long. 

by this time, he had already motioned me goodbye and proceeded out the door. though he was gone, i resumed writing, determined to push this definitive message out of my head.

thank you, mr. rose. i will cherish this forever.