A Lover's Dozen
First Rose.
I was surprised to walk in Monday morning to find a rose on my table. The classroom was relatively full, or empty, which ever way you viewed it. Groups of girls hung around talking and such. Seeing as I normally don't get these sorts of things, I do the stupid fangirls a favour and put it on the desk behind mine. Uchiha Sasuke's table.
He was some freak of a person, like some robot thing, always good at everything. That's why he's my friend. The Freak of a person bit, nothing else. I sit on my desk and look outside. Students and teachers walked absently until the bell rung through the air cutting conversations and they all had to attend class. I slide into my seat and fiddle with my pencil case. I draw squiggles and doodles on the plastic front.
Homerooms nothing special, you sit in the classroom until the bell goes. A teacher's meant to be here monitering or actually doing something but not ours. He made a deal with us all, as long as he doesn't come to class, we have a free period. Not that we wouldn't have a free period anyway. Kakashi sensei works in weird ways.
A chair scrapes behind me, and I don't even have to know who it is that's occupied the hard plastic chair. I pay him no attention and start doodling on the table. He calls my name and I don't turn around. Its part of a thing we do. Childish, yes, makes us laugh, yes, why not keep doing it?
When I don't respond, some thing brushes softly against the base of my neck. Shivers slip down my spine and I scuttle forward. It comes again, but more of it is run across my neck, it feels velvety. The third time, I couldn't take it anymore and I have to turn around. Sasuke pulls the rose away before I could get a nose full of rose. I glare at him.
"This isn't mine" he holds up a card that has my name on it, in neat Times New Roman font. I take the card from him. Flipping it open, I read the poem.
I asked God for a flower, he gave me a bouquet
I asked God for a minute, he gave me a day
I asked God for true love, he gave me that too
I asked for an angel and he gave me you.
- John Raine
I smile accidentally. It's so corny. Something out of a Hallmark card or something equally as cliche. But it made me smile anyway. There's no sender. Just 'John Raine' that I suppose wrote the poem. I take the rose from him and sniff it gently. I finger the petals, their so soft and pretty. The rose is a rich red, like a deep love red.
It's nice to have something for once. To treasure something for a little while before it dies away. It may sound selfish, but its nice. As the bell goes again for the day to properly begin, I pick up my books and cradle it in my arm like a baby, while I hold the rose, admiring it while it still lasts.
O.Dive. First Story. Love It. Hate It.