Hello, readers! If you're upset about me not updating Shatter the Sun…it's because I like this idea better. *dodges knives* I'm getting quite good at dodging weapons. Anyways, please enjoy! And for the record no, the character in the prologue isn't our main character but he'll play a major role later on.
Prologue: The Gardner
In his earliest, happiest memories there had been a garden. It was filled with roses of all colors, each tended to with care by the son of the master of the house. He would sit in the bushes and hide so that he could watch the boy gently take care of the flowers. It was a favorite pastime of his up until the time he was nine.
The nine year heir old had been piling up the earth around a violet rose that was threatening to fall over. The boy had been watching from a rose bush as always when he moved his hand back to get into a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, he accidentally pierced his hand on a particularly sharp thorn and was unable to stop a squeak of pain from escaping his lips.
The heir froze, then turned around to face the bush. "Hello?" He called. "Is anyone there?"
The boy in the bushes froze, praying that the heir would think it was his imagination.
No such luck. The boy began to walk over to the bush. "I thought I heard a sound. Are you all right?" He gently took some of the leaves and pushed them away, coming eye to eye with the boy in the bush. The small heir's widened. "What are you doing in there?"
"Uh…sleeping?" He said.
The heir grinned at him. "You don't have to say if you don't want to. Here, let me help you out." He grabbed a few more of the branches in his hands and pulled them away, revealing the boy's entire face.
"T-thanks." The boy said, then stood up and pulled himself out of the rose bush. He dusted a few leaves off his shirt and looked sheepishly at the heir. "Sorry for…uh…sleeping in your rose bush."
"Don't worry about it!" The heir looked at the boy. "Hey, you're the butler's son!"
The boy flinched. "You're not going to fire my dad, right?"
"Why would I do that?" The boy asked. "It's not like you did anything wrong!"
"I slept in your rose bush."
"Well yeah there's that, but it's not so bad besides the fact you've shaken up the flowers. Would you mind helping me fix them?" The boy asked, examining the injured petals of a red rose.
The boy stared. "M-me help you? Oh, no I couldn't! I don't know a thing about gardening!"
"Don't worry about that, I'll teach you!" The heir replied, and sunk down to his knees to look at the flowers on the lower branches. "Come sit." The boy, hardly daring to believe this was happening, sat down next to the heir. Once again the heir smiled at him, then gently cupped one limp blossom in his hand. "First, you need to asses the damage. This one is just a bit shaken up so if we put something under it to support it, like this rock." Here the heir picked up a large stone that had been laying nearby. He delicately lifted the rose blossom before placing the rock under it, then gently rested the flower on the top. "See? Easy! For higher up flowers you have to get better support systems, but we have plenty of stuff like that in the house!" Next he turned to a flower a few inches up and sighed. Good deals of its petals were missing and it dangled off the bush by a half-broken stem. "This one is beyond repair. Sometimes they get a little too injured and you just have to cut them off. I don't enjoy doing this." The heir pulled a pair of large gardener scissors from the bag he wore on his hip and brought them up to the stem from which the ruined flower dangled. "Sometimes, you just have to end it." In one quick movement he brought the scissors together and the rose fell into his ready hand.
"Yeah…" the boy said, looking at the scissors in the boy's hand. "You know…if you like, I'd be glad to do the cutting for you."
The heir brightened instantly. "Really? You would do that?"
"Of course!" The boy replied, delighted at the excited reaction he'd gotten out of the heir.
"Thank you! It just makes me want to cry every time I do it." The heir took the large gardening scissors and gave them to the boy. "Here: these are yours now. And be careful, they're plenty sharp enough to hurt someone with."
The boy took the scissors and held them as if they were made of glass. "I…can keep these?"
The heir nodded. "Well, of course! Just come down here every day at two o'clock and you can help me take care of the garden."
The boy could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Y-yes! I'll make sure to be here on time every day!"
The heir grinned once again. "Great! Now why don't we finish tending to this bush?"
Six years later the boy sits in his small room, looking out the window with a rose plant growing up the side. The rose garden has become less attended to in recent years, only kept from running wild by the boy. In one hand he holds his gardening scissors, sharpening them with a special tool the heir had given him years ago. He rubbed a smudge of dirt off of the shining silver scissors then gently placed the sharpening tool back on the windowsill. He stands up, pushing his chair back a bit and walks out of the room.
It doesn't take him long to get to the garden, following a path through the house that he memorized long ago. "Good Morning!" One of the maids says as he walks by. He ignores her.
When he finally opens the gates to the garden he notes that even more of the roses were showing gray spots in the growing cold. He sighs quietly and pulls out his scissors, cutting of each wilted rose with a quick, practiced snip. The heir might've known how to save them, but the only thing in gardening the boy had been able to get the hang of was the scissors.
He placed the ruined flowers into the pack he wore around his waist he turned to look at the rose bush he had shaken all those years ago. It was now filled with gorgeous, vibrant red roses, from which the boy had cut as few blossoms as possible. "Gorgeous color." He whispered to himself as he walked over a cradled one of the roses high on the bush in the palm of his hand. "It's hard to find this exact shade."
It was then that he noticed the soft sound of weeping. Startled, he looked around. "Hello? Is anyone there?"
The crying stopped suddenly and the leaves of a blue rose bush not too far from the one the boy currently stood over shook. He walked over to the blue bush and leaned over it to see a girl about his age looking startled with big, puffy eyes open wide. "O-oh dear, you weren't supposed to see me. I-I checked your schedule! You don't come out here till three o' clock."
"I don't have a schedule." He replied, still leering over the girl. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"I-I'm the heir to this house's fiancé." She said, wiping a few tears off her cheeks. "Our parents arranged it. I don't want to marry him! I-I don't love him!"
The boy scowled. This was the girl the heir had blown off working on the garden to spend time with? "Feel lucky, you'll fall for him soon enough. We all do."
The girl blinked a few times, looking surprised. "You're gay?"
"I spend all my time taking care of a rose garden simply because I want to keep it beautiful for the heir to this house. Does that honestly strike you as something a straight fifteen year old would do?" He replied.
She smiled slightly and let out something between a sob and a laugh. "No, I guess not."
The boy nodded. "Stay here for as long you like, I won't bother you as long as you don't injure the flowers." He took his scissors in one hand and began snipping away at dead blossoms on the blue bush. Luckily there were very few.
The girl got up then moved around the bush to sit next to him. "So do you enjoy taking care of the flowers?"
"I used to." The boy replied, placing the last of the blossoms into his pack before standing up and walking to another bush.
"W-wait!" The girl called, stumbling to her feet. He stopped and turned to around to look at her. "Could you teach me how to take care of the roses?"
The boy's eye's narrowed. "I'm really not good at much other than cutting off dead blossoms. You'd be better off asking your fiancé." With that he turned around and left the garden: he could get rid of the other dead roses later.
The next day when he came downstairs he froze in shock. There, standing next to a yellow rose bush, were the heir and his fiancé. "Like this?" The girl said, clumsily holding a watering can in one hand.
The hair placed a hand on hers and delicately steadied the can. "There we go. Now we just carefully stick it through the leaves so the water will go directly to the roots." He replied, using the gardening expertise the servant's son hadn't seen in three years and had feared he would never see again.
The fiancé looked up at the sound of the door slamming behind the boy and smiled. "Oh, it's you! Did you come out here to help with the garden?"
"Yes." The boy managed to choke out through his shock. "But you two seem to have it under control." He looked at the heir. "Do you want your scissors back?"
The heir shook his head a displayed a newer pair. "I got new ones. You can keep those…uh…what's your name."
In that moment the boy's heart shattered into a million pieces. The heir didn't seem to notice how he'd taken care of the garden, and had even forgotten his name. Without a word he raced inside, slamming the door behind him.
He'd close to abandoned the garden over the past three years as it only made tears flow. Under the tender care of the heir and his fiancé the garden had blossomed to its former glory, so there really wasn't any need for him to go there anymore. But today…well, where else could he go?
It was a little after nine o'clock as the boy, young man might be a better term, sat on one of the benches that had recently been set up. It was made of marble with flowery designs on the pegs that held it up. A soft pink rose was winding its was up one leg, reaching about halfway up in the few weeks since it had started to grow. "Like heartbreak." The eighteen year old said to himself. "It moves fast, and even if you rip it from the ground you still prick your hand with the thorns." He took the scissors that he now carried everywhere and snipped the blossom off without even needing to see it properly. "Sometimes things are just a little too inured and you have to cut them off." He muttered under his breath, remembering the first conversation he and the heir had shared.
The sun had set and the full moon was high in the sky. Fireflies danced in the air, giving the rose garden a magical feel. He glanced up at the sky, resisting the urge to scream his frustration to the stars. Instead he just looked at that old red rose bush where he'd first met the heir. Despite the odds it continued to produce beautiful, vibrant red blossoms every year. Unfortunately, from his window the boy had been able to see that each year fewer and fewer blossomed. This time there only three and he knew the bush would probably not survive the coming winter.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" A voice called from the doorway.
The young man turned to see the heir's fiancé and the last bit of hope left him. She looked gorgeous. Everything about her was better than him in every single way. She wore a simple white weeding dress that looked as delicate as glass. A mother-of-pearl necklace adored her neck, shimmering in the moonlight alongside the hand crafted diamond tiara on her head. She didn't wear much makeup, just a little red lip-gloss, a dash of blush, and some pretty silver eye-shadow.
"Hey!" Her voice snapped him out of his trace. She was looking at him with concern from the doorway. "I saw that you weren't at the church so I came back. All the servants were invited, why didn't you come?"
He frowned slightly. "I didn't want to. Is that so wrong?"
"Well it's just that I don't see why not." The skin around the young woman's eyes crinkled as he face turned into one of concern. "Is everything okay?"
The scissors in his hands were ice cold. He glanced down at them, then up at the woman. "You're a weed." He whispered.
The woman blinked a few times, taking a few hesitant steps into the garden. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" She lifted up her dress so not to get it dirty, revealing shimmering silver high heels underneath.
"I said you're a weed." The he said a bit louder, rising to his feet before walking towards the woman.
"E-excuse me?" The woman blinked a few times in utter shock. "W-where did that come from?"
"You latch onto beautiful flowers and steal their resources. Time, money, wealth…it all goes to you." He replied, half-buried anger breaking free with each word. "And the poor flower is left with nothing. Sometimes a weed can be beautiful on the surface, but it's still rotten at its core."
"Oh." The woman said, realization dawning in her eyes. "You're the boy who used to come out here and trim the rose bushes. You…you're still in love with him, aren't you?"
The young man glared at her. "He's a rose, you're a weed. You're undeserving."
"I know. He really is wonderful, isn't he?" The woman said, walking over to him. "And…I'm sorry." She said softly. "I really am." With those words she reached out and curled her arms around the man in a gentle embrace.
For a few seconds she stood there with her eyes closed, gently stroking his back like she might with a small child. Then her eyes shot open. "O-oh." She said weakly. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed to the ground, the young man making no attempts to catch her.
After a few seconds he silently knelt down next her now limp body and pulled his gardening scissors out of her blood stained chest. "He's a rose and you are a weed." He said again. "And weeds have no place in this garden." With the removal of the scissors a fresh gush of blood burst from the wound, creating a large splotch on the dress the same color as the roses on his favorite bush.
For a minute or so there was silence as the young man tried to rub the blood off the scissors with his shirt. The murder itself didn't shock him. After all, he was just getting rid of a rather nasty weed. What annoyed him is that the blood wouldn't come off, instead coating his shirt and hands in red liquid. With a snort of frustration he began trying to use his pant leg instead.
"I suggest dish soap and water." A voice said from behind him.
The young man froze. Then, after a moment he slowly turned around to face the figure standing by his favorite rose bush. "Are you going to tell the police?" He asked.
"Now why would I do that? You're the first of the seven I've been looking for." The woman walked over to the young man and gave him a light, motherly kiss on his forehead. "My sweet little Envy."
And that is that! And don't worry this is a pokemon fic, this dude simply did not own any. But he did own a pair of scissors and…well…we can all see how that turned out.
Hawk: No shit, Sherlock.
Me: Shut it, Hawk!
Penelope: OMG that ending was so SAD! And so ominous, to!
Me: *anger mark* how did you two even get here?
Hawk: Well we are the personifications of various parts of your personality.
Me and Penelope: O_O
Hawk: What?
Penelope: You're her rough-n-tumble, rebellious side. Where the heck did that came from?
Unnamed Foxlike Creature: That's kind of my job. I am her proud, intelligent and witty side. Plus I'm the only one to have merged with her.
Penelope and Hawk: Only during end of the year exams! *stare at each other in shock*
Me: Uh…this is getting weird…and I don't feel like explaining merging so…goodnight, fanfiction!
-Hero of the Dark