I deleted my story, "Lives to This Day On," or as some of you know it, "Last Petals, Enduring Reminiscences," and have replaced it with this.

Notes:

This story is a mix of flashbacks and present undertakings. Particularly, with their past silently unraveling after each chapter, we'd get closer to the 'how's and 'why's of everything.

VintageInk

Plethora

Drama/Angst

Flowers are not just for looking. Flowers speak through their appearance: the type, or the flower, and the colour of the flower itself. Everything about them speak of something. How they look, and how many of them there are. It's just like how someone screams "I Love You," through three, simple, red roses.

Flowers, they stand for many things, not just love and compassion. They can 'say' misery, regret and dejection, just by its quality. However, what chance does a woman of eighteen years, suffering from amnesia, know anything about it, even when received from the one she once had loved?

Roget's II: The New Thesaurus.

Plethora: Noun

A condition of going or being beyond what is needed, desired, or appropriate.

"You can't remember anything, can you? Ever since he left, you've withdrawn your memories..."

"And you were such a good, aspirant florist as well..."

Prologue: Pining

"You were sent another bouquet of flowers? You sure have been receiving a lot of those these days... And what's weird is that it's always these varieties: striped Carnations, or purple Hyacinths."

I gave out an exaggerated sigh. I couldn't help it if I find all of this stupid. It is all so hard. I don't know, and never will know, the so-called 'language of flowers'.

"And in addition, a bunch of pink roses, also fifteen, always followed it... I wonder why." my chain of thoughts trailing, then suddenly broke.

"I like them... I think it's thoughtful." Mikan merely stated, as if trying to express what a lucid incongruity my face had expressed.

I locked my gaze at her amber eyes, and stared at her cynically. A person like her, someone who has forgotten her past - something she's been yearning to do for so long - would now want her memories flooding back?

'Mikan. Do you want your memories to come back...?'

"What? Do you not like them?" She responded, in such a tone I would call agonizingly bittersweet. Since the incident, I've been a sucker for her gentle, subtle requests because of her current condition.

I smiled at that pristine innocence she once had lost, nevertheless, now gained, and something far more precious. It's selfish, I know, but sometimes, it makes me glad that he went away.

"..."

That makes me think.

He, too, was selfish. Not fully aware that he had already taken the world from her, he still aimed for everything; he wanted more.

From across the halls of my quarters, my telephone called loudly. I was too tired, so I attempted, waiting for those irritating rings to choke and die. I know I was slowly butchering my patience, but it was too much hard of a task.

That persistent device echoed right through my whole abode, waiting effortlessly for me to come and answer it.

I emanated a sigh, sat, and then stood up from my soothing recliner. After passing through the velvety curtains, I went in the living room, scanning, trying, to reach for that blasted phone to stop its annoying resonance.

"..." Came no reply.

When no one replied, I asked, "Hello?"

"Hey... Hello!" I was about to hang up, when just about that time, muffled sniffs reverberated from around the other line.

Realizing whom it was, "Mikan? Why aren't you home yet – do you know what time it is? I've been worried sick!" I began my gratuitous ranting.

Then, I started to calm down and lower my voice, hearing that a sob freed itself from her caged lips. The silence must have been her failed attempts at taming it.

I admit, it was inconsiderate and unjust of me to shout at her, but it is a house mate's responsibility to look out for one another.

Even if it means through power and dominance.

"You can say whatever you like, but I beg of you, Hotaru... Please don't say 'I told you so'..." She pleaded, almost desperately.

It was so pitiful.

"Please..." I have no gist of 'how', but I could feel something breaking within me, as she said those words.

Then there was that peculiar silence. The 'why' of it all started becoming unambiguous to myself, as sobs rang throughout the other side.

Then, she was abruptly hushed, those lingering sobs, which I had expected to go on forever, had gone. When that moment came, I became undeniably anxious. "Mikan? What did he do...?"

"I'd rather not talk about it... Um, hey, I'll take a cab home. Don't strain yourself waiting for me and get a good rest, okay?"

What a faker. How can she seriously think that she can fool me? "You're my best friend – how could I not see through that tactic of yours? Your voice is trembling, and I know for a fact that something is wrong."

"Not today, Hotaru."

"Fine. However, you will feel my wrath tomorrow. And whether you like it or not, I would still interrogate you to death."

She chuckled. "Finally," I replied, showing her my benevolence, but never overdoing it.

"...Whatever. Don't leave the door open – I haven't lost my keys yet."

I rolled my eyes, knowing she can't see them through the obviously cut distance. That was just so like her to try and lighten up the mood. When will she learn that, to make it less of a burden for me, and more of it for her, makes it weigh even worse? Thousands, on others?

"You've given me enough troubles to worry for the night." I prattled on. "Be back home safe. At least promise me that."

"..."

My rope of tension was breaking as I waited.

"Good night, Hotaru." What – how about my assurance? Where is it?

"Promise me you'd get back home unscathed."

"Good bye, and take care," and then she hung up.

What damned luck.

Pools of crimson or... dark, ominous blood?

Hands stained, clouded visions...

In the middle of the night, half past two, something inside me tugged, until it had done what I though it was meant to do. It was made to bring me back to reality.

I knew why... I was dreaming, reaching the impossible dream.

Just thinking about her was futile, but I couldn't resist. The blanket of regret cloaking, sweeping, me away was too much. Even for me, who had no problems doing it all over again to her.

Bathed in a cloth of silver, I sat, thinking where I was and what was happening.

'I woke up... Again.'

"Why her?" I never really knew the answer, but I needed to so badly. Why couldn't I have fallen for someone less addictive? Someone less... happy.

Someone I could easily detest.

I stepped out to the balcony, glowing in darkness, as below, the pond was shimmering brightly, luminously reflecting from the moon's glow. It was so beautiful - so serene and tranquil. I wasn't like that at all. In fact, I was the opposite - spiteful, dangerous... 'It irritates me to be her exact opposite... And to be the living contradiction that puts acrimonious men at ease...'

'I wish she could see this...' Staring at it, then and there, I hoped. I minute too soon, a flash of dancing, auburn tresses caught my eye. I knew she possible couldn't be here, but I thought of my instincts too highly to back down.

It wasn't her. I braced myself, for the outcome was not entirely new to me. And yet-

"Son of a...!"

I growled, apparently unsatisfied. "This is bullshit!"

'Damn it... I want to see her again.' It just had to be her. No one else. Not someone who looks like her, not even if she had a twin.

I anticipated that I would see her looking at me with those accusing golden eyes of hers. I've wanted to see those streaks of gold, clashing against mine, sending that very same pulsing sensation within me once again.

But, alas, there was none. I became highly doubtful. Would I ever see her again?

'It's her that I want. Not someone else. No one...'

I tried to get back to sleep, though, sadly, I couldn't. I closed my eyes, hoping to be caught in words of what seemed like velvet. Dreaming of her voice and her smile...

Everything about her, I loved it.

However, why I did those things far back then, were but blurred parts I couldn't unravel.

It was already a quarter till four in the morning, and yet she has not resided back in the estate. I was getting past worried and onto being paranoid mentally, but not to the point of psychotic. My wandering feet somehow brought me to the room's terrace. Even with my objectives unexplained, I knew why. I observed the whole lot, checking to see if she got here truly unharmed. But, to my dismay, she wasn't back yet.

I called her - twice, in fact - but no one answered.

I trust my instincts, and my instincts tell me that I call her for the third time. It rang. Once, twice, thrice... I thought I was wrong, so then I was about to switch my phone off, when she suddenly spoke through haggard breaths.

"L-lamp... post..." right then, I knew something was wrong. She took the cab, so why was she panting? "I... I trust you..." now that definitely woke me. It had set me rushing as fast as I could.

"Hotaru -"

And then she stopped, the range was cut. I grabbed my jacket, and went outside. As soon as I reached the hard, seemingly-luminescent pavement, I broke out in a sprint, going as fast as my feet would allow.

Thinking about not wanting to be there too late.

It was confirmed that something grave had happened.

Human beings are selfish and greedy creatures... They want more, never aware that they had already taken everything one has to live for.

I can only hope that he aspires to fix what he has haphazardly done.

If he has no intentions to, I cannot make him. I can't risk her heart all over again just for petty revenge.

"Mikan - can you hear me? Where are -" In just my slippers, I turned the corner sharply. It was where the nearest post stuck out.

"Shit!" I gasped, and breathed out the high amount of air I took in. "What the hell happened?"

What I saw had me frozen stiff.

She was wrapped in that musky scent I knew too well. The scent of blood.

Though not badly injured, it was a painful sight to see. To say the least, it hurt to see a friend in agony, especially when you couldn't do anything to ease it all. What will become of her - of us - when everything comes flashing back, in forms of the moments you held so dear?

Clothed in only my night gown and jacket, I approached her. "Tha...nks." I was guessing that she was struck, abused, and then left out.

She wheezed, then coughed out blood. I held her head and torso slightly higher, lightly elevating it from the cold, hard ground, to prevent any more damages.

"Thank God, Mikan."

'God knows what could have happened to you.'

And after what he promised to her, he had the nerve to break it and walk away.

I can't forgive him. He can't just play with her feelings.

Even after recalling how happy he made her. I still wouldn't forget. I won't.

Notes:

That was just an introduction. To those who have corrected me, thank you. I appreciate it since I want to improve a lot.

And to those who say more than "i liK. U upDate?" receive marshmallows toasted in flame-y goodness.

Author's notes: If you care why I made this, see below.

A friend, now migrating to New Zealand, inspired this story. A shallow inspiration, to say the least, but this was how I envisioned New Zealand to be – a meadow filled with trees, flowers and other kinds of greenery.