Hello everyone! I got the idea of this fanfic when I was sitting on my couch, just staring at this bouquet of roses that was on the counter. I put a lot of effort into this since it was a gift for a friend who is a HUG fan of Laxus too so please enjoy and leave a review! Love, Mrs. Portgas D. Ace.
Ch.1
The calendar that hangs beside my bed reads January 31, 1960. The sky outside is cloudy, which makes me want to just stay in bed and listen to Frank Sinatra classics. My eyes stare around my plain bedroom walls, noticing that I need to put up some photos or something so they lose their dreary look. The rain doesn't help improve their look either. I don't dislike rain though, but running errands in when it's storming isn't a hobby of mine. I grudgingly force myself out of bed and slip into my uncomfortable dress in a maroon shade. The fabric is stiff and tight in areas I wish weren't so tight. I glance in the direction of my mirror and form a scowl on my face. My mum calls these things "fashionable". I would rather not wear such things that only get in the way, but my mother won't allow me to leave the house in anything else. I clip my Mary Jane's on and grab my black and white umbrella before heading out the door, hoping to avoid my mum on the way out.
"Go powder your nose before you take another step towards the door Arianna!" Mum nags as she bustles around the kitchen to make dinner for yet another round of party guests.
My mother has a look on her face that tells me to not try and argue with her. Groaning, I return to my wash room to apply the least amount of powder possible so it will be easier to remove later, out of my mother's hawk eye vision. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother, but I'm not big about superficial things like she is. She is all about the look of things and people's opinions. Our house are repainted once a year, she takes at least an hour to get ready fro practically anything. The most common item on their family's shopping list is lipstick in pastel pink (hair spray comes in close second). Cleaning the house "in case guests spring a surprise visit on us" is my daily chore. My father's chores consist of vacuuming once a week and lifting my mother's shopping bags to and from the boutique. This day an age is too focused on being social in my opinion.
I'm finally suitable enough to leave the house. By now I've wasted at least five minutes of my time, so I rush a bit down the stairs. Mum reminds me just before I close the front door to get the mail for her. I grudgingly agree, the sound of the cool rain most likely drowning out my reply. The city of London is awfully quiet on rainy days with few people on the streets. This will make my trip much easier to make. I am the errand runner in the house and some trips to get certain things are much weirder sounding than others. Today, I am in search of roses. Cheap roses to be precise, something that is practically impossible in winter with Valentines Day being just around the corner. I needed to get roses for my mother and friends, who have given me gifts every fourteenth of February. You could say it's out of guilt if you wish.
Our mailbox is luckily just outside the driveway. I pull open the white door to reveal a brilliantly red envelope with my name engraved on it in fancy, perfect writing. I already know who its from. Vi Le, an intelligent Asian socialite from the foreign country of Vietnam who is loved by everyone and returns the love. And, surprisingly, she's been my best friend since seventh grade. We first met when we reached for the same book in the library at our private school. I could use the phrase "polar opposites" to describe us, but you could also say that we are twins too. Besides having similar faces and hairstyles, there numerous other similarities between us. For example, our secret habit of saying the same things at the same time.
My hands pry open the envelope to reveal a crisp white invitation to Vi's Valentine's Day party at her and her fiancée Portgas D. Ace's home. My eyes scan over the thick card as I take in he words. The party will be from 6 pm till 11 pm with the theme of red. The invite also said to bring a special someone along as a date. Something I probably will never understand is finding a "special someone" at this age. I mean, come on. We're only in our twenties. Up until the last year of high school, Vi and I were both late bloomers in the whole romance thing. When Ace transferred into our class and met Vi, it was all over for her. They were engaged just three years out of high school. I swear that I was really happy for them and still am, but sometimes I wonder if that was the wisest choice on their part. But if they're happy, I'm happy.
If I were to voice my personal opinion, I would completely avoid all social interactions that concern big groups of strangers. I'm not socially inactive, trust me, but I just don't like strangers. This is another reason why I like rainy days. The rain decreases the chances of me running into muggers or those of the shady type on the streets. Rain from outside falls onto my umbrella in a melodious pattern, soothing me. The usual shops are all still mostly open, but with much less lines inside. Now, to find roses. I would love to see roses in my favorite color, gold, but red isn't so bad either. The prices though are of a different matter. I peek into flower shop windows and 25 pounds for a dozen red blooms is a common sight. Much to expensive for just twelve flowers that will wilt in at least a day. Sighing, I trudge on, relentlessly searching.
My shoes aren't the best to wear in rainy weather. I can feel my socks getting wet, which is a HUGE pet peeve of mine. Luckily my coat keeps the dreary London chill off my skin, but I'd rather much be home. I just want to dive back into my warm quilts and sheets and listen to the rain patter on my window to the sound of a piano. This endless search is beginning to irritate me honestly, but I must forge on or the sake of my debts in Valentines Day gifts. Why roses, I'm not sure. They just seem suitable for the people that I am gifting them to.
Suddenly, as I was making my way around, I hear the loud crack of thunder. Not good. I hurry to find a suitable shelter when I realize I'm in a strange neighborhood of London. All the lights are off and the windows are shut, giving off an eerie air. My pace slows as I look around thoughtfully, curious about this part of London that I've never seen before. I catch a whiff of a gently sweet scent. Could it be food? Maybe the person would be willing to share! My stomach growled in consent as if on cue. I followed the scent, growing more and more curious by the second. Around the corner, I nearly ran head first into a wall of glass. Blinking, I peeked into the glass and almost shrieked in surprise.
Just beyond the glass was a garden of roses straight out from a fairy tale. The huge blooms were the color of that of deep reds to pale peaches. Its is as if an artist were to mix ever color between red and white and come up with a million different shades to paint these blooms. My trembling hand finds the door handle and I pull the glass open, a gentle wave of that sweet scent flowing around me. I wasn't dreaming, was I? My umbrella clattered to the ground, but I couldn't care less. I just wanted to get closer to those gorgeous blooms. My hand reached out to touch the bloom, when a sudden stinging sensation rushed up my hand. I glanced down at my fingertip, a drop of blood slowly rising from the prick. I held back a laugh, remembering my older brother's favorite metaphor after he was dumped by his "perfect" girlfriend of 5 weeks.
"Every rose has its thorns," I whispered, giggling.
There were paths of stone that wove around the rose shrubs that showed signs of someone's recent presence. Who could have the talent to grow such beautiful blooms? I was curious to know if they'd be willing to sell me a dozen or two for a decent price at the least. I treaded quietly around the shrubs, taking in the green house's magic. I was sorely tempted to pluck a bloom for myself, but knew that it would be rude to do so. Best just to find the owner and ask them to avoid any scuffle of sorts. Where could this mysterious master of roses be? Where could such talent in botany ever be found is this city? As I made my way around the bright pink blossoms, I caught sight of a sprawling black fur coat. A person!
"Wait!" I cried, hurrying after them, "Are you the owner of these roses?"
The hooded figure didn't reply but moved faster away, turning corner after corner. I was beginning to grow frustrated as I ran after him. Would throwing something at him work? Maybe. I'll just save that idea for later. This hooded figure didn't really want to try offering me a cup of tea of tea now did he? I guess it was up to me to do the offering.
"You have beautiful roses by the way! Please wait!" I cried in desperation.
Suddenly, something hard and metal smacked into my face. My nose began to throb and burn any my eyes began to fade out and in. I let out a cry of pain as I stepped back in surprise. Looking down, I realized that I had stepped on a weeding hoe. I rubbed my throbbing nose sadly, disappointed that I had lost the hooded figure. Since I pride myself in being quite stubborn, I promised myself to come back tomorrow.
"I'll be back tomorrow Mr. Hooded Guy!" I yelled in his general direction, not even sure if he can even hear me ,"Just you wait!"
I slowly find my way back to the glass door. How very interesting. Who is that hooded figure? How do such beautiful roses even exist in the cold London scenery? Is the owner wiling to sell a bouquet or two to me? So many questions that I just might need answers to. Lifting my umbrella up from the cement ground, I trudge back into the gray city, longing to return to that beautiful garden. I chide myself to be patient and wait just a day. I could have sworn that I had an extra spring in my step during my walk home.
Just before arriving on my street, I stopped by the payphone to give Vi a call. Sliding into the red booth, I give the machine 25 pence and punch in her number. The dial rings just three times before she picks up.
"Le residence"
"Hey Vi, It's Ari"
"Hey Ari! It's about the party isn't it?"
"How did you know?"
"I guessed by the speed of your call since the invitation was sent"
"Oh"
"So what is it?"
"Is bringing a special someone a requirement for the party?"
I can hear a giggle over the phone from the other end. Now I'm just the slightest bit irritated, but I'm feeling lenient today.
"What's so funny?" I ask in the calmest tone I can muster.
"Did it say anywhere on the invite that you HAVE to bring a date?" she ask in a confused, laughing tone.
"No, that's why I was asking" I sighed.
"You don't have to bring someone, it's just recommended that's all"
"Oh ok. Thanks Vi"
"No problem, what have you been doing?"
"Scavenger hunting for roses"
"Tough journey huh?"
"Not really, but I'll tell you in detail in-person. That's the only way I could properly explain it to you"
"You sound excited. How about we meet at the Daisy?"
"Alright. See you there at noon then"
The phone clicked off as I hung it on the machine. Closing the red door behind me, I noticed that the rain had let up. London was so cloudy lately; there might be a chance of it raining on Valentines Day. That might give me an excuse to not go to Vi's party, but she'd be sad. Her parties are pretty fun, since what usually happens is Vi plays host for like half an hour before leaving the whole party scene to go to her library with me and we just talk. This little aspect has changed though since Ace came into the picture. I know Vi tries her best to even out how much time she spends with me and with Ace, but that's kind of hard to do since they live together. Oh well, it can't be helped. I will not be the one to put a divider between those two, if a divider could even fit between them.
The house is toasty warm when I return from my trip and I can smell a cake in the oven. My mother is a divine socialite with divine cooking skills, which is treat to me. She calls me over to the kitchen to help her with dishes as the cake is done and in needing of frosting. Just I finish wiping the last plate, a beautifully frosted cake stands on the counter in all of its glory. I can tell that my mother is proud by the way she stands up straighter than usual.
"It look wonderful mum," I said as I hung up my apron.
"Thank you dear, this one will be for your grandparents when they come to visit this weekend," She explained as she slipped the pastry into the refrigerator.
"I have lunch with Vi to the Daisy today so do you need anything before I go?" I asked.
"No, you go ahead and have fun" She replied with a smile," Bring me back a pumpkin crumpet if you can!"
I took a minute to change shoes since I'm almost positive that those Mary Jane's cut off blood circulation and instead opt for flats, not too casual and not too formal. Since the rain looked to be letting up some, I decided to leave my umbrella at home as well. The Daisy is a single bus stop from here, so I won't have to worry much about rain. I say goodbye to my mother before closing our door behind me. The smell of warm cake follows me out. Good smells are actually quit common in our neighborhood for it is a cheery one. The neighbor's exchange Christmas presents with us and me to them and on Thanksgiving we all go out and hand food to the homeless. Vi doesn't live that far either, but she says that her neighborhood is quite the drab place. She likes to spend the holidays with our family if she isn't visiting her parents in Vietnam.
Just before I step onto the bus, I stop in my tracks. That smell. It's those roses again. I look around wildly, trying to search for where the scent was strongest, but there were too many damn ladies with perfume on. I glanced around at all the faces, but none seemed like the type to be a florist. Grudgingly, I took a seat beside the aisle, still glancing around. Who else could have that lingering scent on them? Was it the owner himself? Or an assistant? I stared out the window in frustration. This mysterious person was really getting on my nerves. Or maybe I was just desperate to find out who they were. Either way, that scent was a constant reminder of the roses I needed to get before the fourteenth. By now, after all that searching, my best option is to beg that magic rose garden owner to sell me some of his blooms.
Well, that was an interesting first chapter. I don't know why I imagined Laxus as the type to like growing flowers, but I always believe that the manliest of all men always have some kind of girlish habit like baking or knitting. Maybe Gajeel could get into hair care, I don't know. Hope you guys continue to read this fanfic and please leave a review! Now, I've gotta go back to by hubby Ace before he get's worried that I'm in the wrong fandom. Ciao!