The Belief in Black Roses
- Reads 228
- Votes 7
- Parts 12
MatureOngoing59m
Last published Fri, Dec 21, 2018
It was so uncharacteristic. A man such as he, could be seen with a vase filled with fresh flowers on his desk. Not taken from a graveside, not rotting, not dead, weeping from dehydration. Though, the color was most peculiar. Black roses. Why would he...? Black roses...? It's odd even for him to have flowers. What was this strange..belief in these roses?
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──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──── ""I do not love you! We are not-! You are simply not-!" I stammer, unable to form a coherent reason for my lack of affection toward him. He flashes that infuriatingly handsome smirk, leaning with casual ease against the desk. "Now, look me in the eyes and say it again, sweetheart," he murmurs, his deep voice smooth as silk. Tilting his chin upward, he arches an eyebrow and waits with unshakable patience. I can only keep my gaze fixed on the floor, my fingers nervously tugging at my sleeves. "Oh, fuck you," I mutter. His rich, hearty laughter fills the room, tugging at the corners of my lips despite myself. {ᴀ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ} "Oh, please. You are unbearably full of yourself. I do not like you-never will," I scoff, twirling a strand of my curly hair around my finger. He merely shrugs, that sly smirk unfaltering, entirely unbothered. "You are right-you do not like me," he begins, his smirk widening into a full grin. "You are absolutely in love with me." ──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────
Something came to Gisselle, when she suddenly crashed into a car while driving, a guy was there, helping her and trying to heal her. She felt something in her hand, she could smell it. She had a flower held in her hand. "Keep it safe, you might need it for luck." The guy's voice was low and mysterious. "What for?" I said, my head felt unconscious and light headed, I felt like I don't remember anything and wanted to throw up because of being light headed. The guy hasn't respond, but I got up to the door and deciding that if I should go home or go to school in the middle of the day. A hand held my wrist, still holding the flower that was in my hand. "Not yet, I'm not done. You have a major bruise on your head, I'll get you some ice." I didn't want ice, I felt like I wanted to go home, but I stayed for a while because I don't know where had my car go or where to exit. How did I get here? What happened? Why am I here? I needed answers, but I guess I'll save it for the last.
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