~Roses~
'You still like roses, right? No, I'm sure you do. After all, how many times did I see you, bent over in the garden, tending to the roses?
-So I'll like them too, okay? - I didn't abandon the garden –our garden- like you thought I did. Like you still think I did.
I –just me, no one else- keep it up. Most nations think that I spend most of my time in New York, –after all, I always say that, don't I?- but if anyone cared enough, they'd know. Know that's not true.
I like my –or is it still our?- old house the best, you know. The one you helped build for me. Do you remember? When it was finished, you let me pick a flower. Any flower in the world, and you would bring it back, you told me. You probably would've. Instead –because I wanted you to stay, don't leave me here again!- I told you I wanted roses. A rose garden. Your favorites. –They're my favorites too… Right?- I still remember the surprised expression you wore. Surprised, but happy –happy you didn't have to leave, I hope, I wish-. I should've savored those moments more.
Some of my fondest memories are of that garden –and you!-, you know.
The gentle expression on your face when you would tend to the garden.
The way you'd comfort me and kiss my finger when I pricked it on a thorn –trying to cut a rose for you!-.
I loved it. I loved it all. I still do. I always will-I know I will, no matter what happens, no matter who I see you with, Forever, if that's how long it takes, even if that never happens-.
But I hated it when you left.
I know now. Hell, I knew then, that you couldn't stay forever. I was childish to think you could –but I could wish, couldn't I? ...
Can't I?-
But you still smiled at me, despite my self-indulgent little protests, and reminded me to ask someone to help me with the garden if it became too difficult.
You know, I couldn't even count how many times I pricked my fingers on those sharp little thorns. Even so, I was stubborn and determined, to say the least. I tended to the garden all on my own because I wanted to impress you. I wanted you to be proud of me.-I really just wanted to see you smile.-
When you came back, I'd grown up a bit. I mean, I knew that I'd grown, but I never realized just how much taller that you I'd become. I could see my own shock –though I suppose I was better at hiding it- mirrored in your eyes when you looked up at me. Looked up at me. That one little thing seemed so strange to me at the time… I guess it's normal now. When you ever look me in the eyes, that is.
Right after that, I remember dragging you out back –so excited to see your reaction, to see you approve- to the garden, the rose garden I had worked so hard to maintain.
I watched you nervously as you took in the sight of my amateur work. I had gotten much, much better, improved so much while you were away, but I couldn't compare to your practiced cuts, so professional and perfect. I tried so very hard though, and that's what counted, right?
Turning to face me, I saw that bright, approving light –not that slight worry I'd seen since you walked in the door, that look I hated, that I noticed, no, that I still notice, even when you think I don't- in your eyes, and a hint of a smile on your lips –the smile I'd missed for so long, wanted to see every single day, no matter how selfish it was- as you told me, "You did a good job. An excellent job. And you did this all by yourself?" I nodded vigorously, happy –overjoyed- to have your approval. You smiled –a real, genuine smile, not the forced one you give me now- and it was then I knew. Knew that I could never, ever neglect those roses. Because if those roses ever died, I could never forgive myself for taking away something you loved. Something that made you smile. –If I showed you, would they still? I don't even know.- It would be like physically hurting you –no, hurting me, right?- Because I wanted –want- you to be happy.
Do you know why I made the rose my national flower? You probably think that it was to spite you, my way of throwing my independence in your face every single time you looked at one of your precious roses. The worst part is, you're absolutely convinced you're right. Can't you see? All I wanted... I just wanted to show you that I still cared! I wish I could just tell you –about everything, everything I can't tell you now- but I just… I just can't. And you know what? I still don't understand why.
It seems like I'm out here more often as of late. I wonder why?
No, I know why –My feelings have changed since then, can't you tell through my acting? Or do you just not care?-. I want you to see me in the same way I see you. It wouldn't be so bad if… No… Life is bittersweet. I'll get over it –right?-.'
~Roses~Roses~Roses~
I reached over and snipped a too-long stem with centuries of practiced ease. 'Still not as perfect as you though,' I thought absently, staring at the cut flower in my grip.
"I really do love roses, you know…"
Unconsciously, I raised the rose, letting the petal closest to me rest against my lips. 'Like you.'
Unbidden, a rush of memories came flooding back to me, and, ignoring the thorns that once caused me to burst into tears; I nearly crushed the flower grasped in my hands. I could only tell myself one thing.
'I'm fine. Fine without you.'
The rebellious tears I was trying to stop told otherwise.
"I'm so pathetic… Who'll believe me if I can't even believe myself?"
A/N: Well, if you stuck with me for this long, thank you! My first real attempt at fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this at least a little!