It was a particularly lively Friday evening; the trees swayed in the spring breeze while the blue jays chirped their airy tune for all to hear. Cars sped past in a rushed effort to arrive home after a long days' work. A young man strolled down the crowded walkways with a little hop in this step. His azure eyes were bright and alive, as were his pink-dusted cheeks. Fellow pedestrians couldn't help but to stare at this man in awe; for they all came to the same conclusion:
This was the face of a man in love.
The said man's stray tuft of hair bobbed in time with his brisk pace as he approached the local florist's shop. He pushed open the wide glass doors which signaled a little chime that notified the owner a customer was present. The man bathed in the sweet sent of all the flora surrounding the small store. The radio was turned on and mindless chatter filled the air.
"Ah! Hello sir! May I ask what you're looking for today?" A short man, probably in his mid-thirties, appeared from behind the counter wiping off dirt-covered palms onto his green apron wrapped aroud his waist.
"I was hoping to buy some flowers, actually." The florist chuckled.
"Lemme rephrase that question. I was meaning to ask what type of flowers you wanted."
"...Oh."
The man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Just a couple of seconds into the conversation and he had already made a fool of himself. "I would like a bouquet of assorted roses, please."
"Well you came at the perfect time! We just got some shipped in last night." And with that, he once again disappeared behind the counter, leaving the very impairment man behind.
The bulky radio on the table top once again snatched his attention, only instead of random podcasts, it was pouring out bad news that he was quite sadly used to hearing: More people fell victim to the axe-murderer, presidential candidates getting heated over silly arguments, a couple died in a brutal house fire (most likely arson), and multiple car crashes reported in the area; nothing new. None of it seemed real, the day was just too perfect for any mishaps in the world. The man sighed, taking a glance out the darkening window. The night was still young, and tonight was the first time in too long that he would see his beloved Arthur.
Ah, how he missed Arthur.
The man smiled forlornly at the thought of giving his stingy Brit the small gift of his favorite roses. He could vision his forest eyes lighting up with joy and a soft flush to his cheeks as he accepted the present. Of course, he would attempt to hide just how happy he truly was, but the man could always see through his facade.
"Sir...?"
The man was ripped out of his daydream at the voice of the shopkeeper returning with the flowers.
"Oh! I apologize, how much did you say the bouquet would cost?"
"It'll be forty."
"The man blinked and shook his head. Clearly, he must have misheard.
"Sorry, did you say forty? As in forty bucks?" His voice cracked.
"Forty. Take it or leave it."
"That's outrageous!" The man cried. The owner had to be kidding, and quite frankly, he didn't find he joke very funny.
The florist's cheery mask dropped.
"Listen kid, flowers are especially hard to get around here, what with them going out of season. It's forty or nothing."
"Well there must be some sort of way you can give me a discount! I don't have that kind of money!" The man sputtered, distress evident in his tone.
The shopkeeper let out a frustrated puff of air. The man was giving him watery puppy dog eyes that he was having a difficult time resisting. What can he say? He had a soft spot for helpless creatures.
"Fine." The florist snapped. "I'll give you a single red rose for a quarter of the price. Just this once."
The man let out a whoop of joy and practically threw his cash at the poor shopkeeper. He grabbed said rose and bolted out of the building with a rushed, "Thank you!"
The owner shook his head with a small laugh. It wasn't everyday that he saw young men bursting with excitement at the prospect of meeting a potential lover. He sure hoped whoever was receiving the rose was worth it. With that thought lingering in his head, he began rearranging the showcases of his prized flowers.
The man was alive with enthusiasm as he skipped his way down the ever clearing sidewalks. He was so close to meeting his wonderful, beautiful Arthur.
"Hey you!"
The man jumped out of his skin at the deep voice resonating down the streets. He glanced to his left where a burley-looking figure sat in the steps leading to a building. The giant let out a booming laugh.
"Sorry kid, didn't mean to startle ya! You seem like a fine young lad, and by that rose you're holdin', I can only assume you have a date tonight, is that correct?" The man nodded silently, confusion covering his features.
"Well I've got this pretty little ring right here, not gettin' much use. Wanna buy it for a bargain?"
"Um... No thank you sir. I'm not sure if my date would accept that kind of commitment just yet." The man ran his fingers through his hair with a sad smile. The giant let out another bellow that rattled the poor man.
"Eh, just thought I'd give it a shot. Have a nice evening and make sure you woo that girlie's socks off!"
"The man flushed in embarrassment and returned to his quick pace. Just a little closer! He turned down the secluded street that was their set meeting place.
And there he was.
His back was turned to him but he could still see how his golden hair gleamed in the moonlight, just the way he remembered it always had.
"Arthur!" The man cried out joyously, jogging to catch up to his date. Arthur's eyes widened and he faced the yelling man approaching him.
"Wh-" Arthur was cut off by the tall man squeezing his taller frame.
"Artie, I've missed you so much! Here, I bought this just for you!" The man thrust the single blood red rose in front of his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person," he stuttered. "My name is-"
"Arthur," the man whispered.
He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out the small hatchet where it had been hidden, all along.
"B-But I bought this flower for you Arthur. I did this all for you. I did this all for you..."
'Arthur' scrambled backwards, his eyes widened in horror.
No.
He wasn't Arthur. Arthur was dead, he has been for the past couple of years.
It all didn't matter as he was going to scream and run away. The man swung the axe to kill the yells, and he swung the axe for Arthur. The rose he held fell to the pvement and mixed with the glorious shades of crimson surrounding it. He swung the axe and no screams followed. But he might've screamed, as he was not Arthur. None of them were Arthur. So he swung his axe, and swung his axe, and swung his axe. He wasn't Arthur, so he continued to swing his axe, as he had done multiple times already.
Some time later, the man slipped his bloodied hatchet back into the inside jacket pocket of his suit and fled the shadowed figure laying peacefully with a single red rose next to him.
He turned off of the secluded street and made his way back to where he came from. It was fully dark out. If there were any stains on his suit, it would be virtually invisible by now. Looking around the mostly empty streets, he thought about how the busy pedestrians from earlier would have already arrived home to their families and loved ones, wishing each other a good nights' rest. If only he could return to his lovely Arthur... He could imagine the Englishman running into his arms and cursing him for staying out so late and causing him worry. He would call him a stupid git and pretend to be angry when he was relieved in actuality. The man could almost remember the way his name rolled off Arthur's tongue in a crisp accent. His name...
It was... It was...
The man clutched his head in frustration.
He couldn't remember.
But nothing could bring him down as Arthur was waiting for him. And he would find him. Some day soon. A grin etched its way onto the his features. The bounce in his step returned as he strolled father down the road.
Somewhere along the way an old married couple sat on the steps of their building, watching the man walk by with a dopey smile and a faraway gleam in his eyes. When he passed, the woman asked, "How come you never look at emme/em that way anymore?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind."
She sighed, but continued to observe the young man in the dark suit while thinking to herself:
Nothing is more beautiful than young love.
Author's Note:
Hello readers!
This is my first fanfiction I've ever posted and I really hope y'all enjoyed it! And if you didn't guess already, this story is largely based off of Stephen Kings' short story: The Man Who Loved Flowers. I tried my best to make this worth reading and I'm still iffy about it...
Please leave a review and if you see any errors or have any tips, please do not hesitate to speak (or type in this case) them! :')
EDIT: I have absolutely no idea wtf happened when I first tried uploading the story. I promise you guys that I'm not some sort of robot posting codes instead of a fanfiction lmao. Sorry about that.