NOTE:
Absolutely plotless, but I wanted to write it anyway. Don't say I didn't warn you.
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Rain Roses
by mjolk
He walked silently down the cobbled road, his shoes barely making a sound. It was raining ever so slightly - then again, it always seemed to rain everytime he was in this town. As if it wanted him to remember.
But he needed no reminder. Once in a while he had the urge to be alone with his thoughts. Sharing a ship with a nosy former policeman, a loud annoying woman, a brat and a mutt didn't exactly give him the breathing space he needed. Sometimes, he just wanted to walk in the rain, skulking in the shadows of old stone buildings, and brooding as he smoked his half-wet cigarette.
He turned a corner to a more crowded road than he just exited. He navigated his way through people with their oversized umbrellas nimbly, slipping unnoticably among them. Just another crazy guy who was getting wetter and wetter by the moment. He reached a tiny shop with a roofed portico and stopped. He spat out the limp cigarette hanging between his lips, fished out a new one from his jacket's pocket, and lit it absentmindedly, glancing through the window of the shop he was standing in front of.
Roses. Dozens of them, half-bloomed, on a large tin bucket. Blood red roses. They always caught his eyes first among the other flowers.
His eyes softened and he stood there, staring through the glass window of the flower shop, half-lost in his own thoughts. The door creaked open and an elderly man with a kind wrinkled face stepped out, smiling at him.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" the old man gestured at the roses.
Spike Spiegel exhaled his cigarette smoke. "Yeah."
"Would you like to buy some? To give to the lady, maybe?"
"I have no woman, gramps."
The old man laughed. "Step in to the shop. I'm sure someone will come to your mind." He laughed again and opened the door, walking in without looking back.
The young man flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the wet street and walked inside. The cigarette sizzled and died among the puddle.
Inside the store, the old man was already selecting the roses from the tin bucket, his back to him. "I'll give you a special price, young man. I don't believe a young strapping lad like you doesn't have a woman at all."
"It's just you remind me of someone," the old man continued. He turned around, carrying the flowers in his hands, and walked to his work table. "In fact, that someone should be here anytime soon. He's a regular customer. Always stops by to buy flowers for his little lady while she's at the cathedral there." He held up a stem of red rose to him. "A dozen red roses for you?"
Spike nodded, an amused smile on his face, resigning to the fact that he have been rather coerced into buying flowers by the old man.
The bell hanging on top of the front door clang, along with the faint creaking of the door. "Ah, it's you!" The old man looked up an exclaimed delightedly, giving Spike a quick wink.
Spike turned to look at the man who just stepped in. He understood now why the old man said he reminded of the other man. He was around the same age as he was. He was also just as tall, his facial features were as sharp, and Spike instinctively knew he could be a dangerous man when needed.
The newcomer spared him what seemed to be a quick glance, and Spike knew with that one glance the man had noted every little detail about him. The newcomer looked back past Spike to the flower man and nodded curtly. "I'll have the usual."
"A dozen white long-stemmed roses, coming up."
Spike turned around. "Gramps, no need to arrange mine into a bouquet. Just cut away the thorns and the leaves so I could hold them."
"If that's what you want, young man. Amon," the old man addressed the other man, "Robin-chan is at the church, as usual?"
Spike suddenly realized the tolling of the church bell. The clock striking three in the afternoon.
Amon nodded again. "She'll be here soon."
"Ah, it's good to have a girlfriend, isn't it? I was just telling this young man here," the old man indicated towards Spike with his chin while he continued preparing the flowers, "that he should have one he could give these roses to."
This time Amon's eyes flickered to Spike's and Spike was forced to give him a sheepish smile. "Well, some of us aren't as lucky." Amon gave him a small grudging smile back.
"Done!" the old man exclaimed. Spike turned to face him and was awarded a bunch of red roses tied together with a string. Amon's was a bouquet, wrapped neatly in pale blue paper and decorated with white ribbons.
"Thank you, gramps. How much does it cost?" Spike asked, his hand rummaging inside his jacket's pocket to find some money.
"It's 10 woolong," Amon said beside him, handing his own money to the old man.
"10 woolong, huh?" Spike said, fishing the money from his pocket and handing it to the man.
The door bell tinkled again and Amon spun around, bouquet in hand.
"Robin-chan!" the old man called out cheerfully. "How are you?"
Spike turned around too, and was met with the sight of a young teenage girl in a curiously long and heavy dark-colored dress with a matching long coat. It somehow suited her, though. Although young, she had an air of seriousness and matureness that almost matched Amon's. She's probably more mature than Faye, this girl, Spike mused.
"I'm fine, uncle, thank you." Her voice was low and smooth, unlike Faye's nasal throaty voice. She looked at Amon and said, "We should be going."
He nodded, but he didn't move. Instead, he gave her the bouquet of roses he was holding. Robin gave him a small smile, took the bouqouet, and said, "Thank you." She turned around then and walked to the door, Amon following her closely.
"See you again!" The old man called out after them.
Spike watched them through the glass window, walking close together without talking, crossing the road in front of the shop. They reached a simple black car parked across the street and got in, Amon in the driver's seat.
"Striking couple, aren't they?" The old man remarked. He was watching them too.
"Gramps, you're a hopeless romantic, you know that?" Spike said, amused laughter in his voice.
"That's why I own a flower shop, hey. Now go and give those flowers to someone special."
Spike gave him a smile. "If I can find one today, huh, gramps? Thanks for the flowers."
"Think of the women you have in your life, my lad. One of them might really appreciate those flowers."
He gave him a courtesy nod, said thank you once more, and walked out of the shop. The light rain had slowed down until it was almost unnoticable. He stood outside the shop, on the pavement for a while, looking at a pair of church towers looming against the dark grey sky. Smiling, he set his course towards them.
Later than night, when he came back to the Bebop, the flowers had lost their binding string and half of its original number. He walked in through the main door and was greeted by the loud sound of the TV and the smell of dinner wafting through the air. For once, they had quite some money for Jet to cook decent meals for them. Spike liked to think Jet's cooking was not decent at all, but it was nice not to eat instant cup noodles all the time.
He walked into the living room and saw Faye lying on the sofa, flipping a magazine with a bored expression on her face, the TV blaring without being noticed at all. He smiled. "Hey, Faye."
She turned her head and gave him a dark face. "Where did you go all day? Jet made me get the groceries with Ed and Ein! You were supposed to do it, weren't you?"
"Oh, I went here and there. Hey, this is for you." He chucked five stems of roses to her. She caught them deftly enough but stared at them with bewildered confusion. "You're giving me roses? Whatever for?"
He started walking to his room, in his hand one last remaining rose. "Oh, nothing. Some old man in a flower shop gave them to me."
He had already disappeared from her sight when he heard her call out in a puzzled tone, "What were you doing in a flower shop???"
He stopped in front of Ed's room and knocked.
"In-in!" her cheerful voice trilled from inside. He pushed open the door and saw her sitting on the floor, typing happily on her computer. "Here, Ed." She turned around and he threw the rose to her.
"WAI! Spike-person gave Ed a rose!"
"Yeah, don't give it to Ein to eat, alright?"
"YAAAAAAY!" Ed screamed out joyfully and started jumping up and down on the bed, clutching the rose.
Spike smiled exasperatedly, closed the door, and walked away. He reached inside his pocket for his cigarette and a lighter and leaning against the wall, he lit it up, thinking of the six other roses he had put on the doorstep of a certain building.
The building where Julia had lived.
He inhaled his cigarette deeply and said out loud to himself, "Fool."
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DISCLAIMER:
Cowboy Bebop and Witch Hunter Robin are not mine.
NOTE:
Like I said, I wanted to write this, because the imageries were too strong. The fic is highly inspired by where I am living now, a charming medieval university town with the oldest cathedral in the country in the heart of it.
What's more, I want Spike to meet his twin from WHR, Amon. Both series were made by the same animation studio so it is no wonder that they remind me of each other. However, I do not want to make an involvement out of it. For timeline's sake, I guess you can say this fic takes place before Bebop ends and after WHR ended (where, you know, Amon and Robin went off and opened their own kebab shop.)
BTW, this could be a Valentine's day fic with all those roses. But too late for that, huh?
Please forgive the grammar/spelling mistakes! Thanks for reading.
Absolutely plotless, but I wanted to write it anyway. Don't say I didn't warn you.
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Rain Roses
by mjolk
He walked silently down the cobbled road, his shoes barely making a sound. It was raining ever so slightly - then again, it always seemed to rain everytime he was in this town. As if it wanted him to remember.
But he needed no reminder. Once in a while he had the urge to be alone with his thoughts. Sharing a ship with a nosy former policeman, a loud annoying woman, a brat and a mutt didn't exactly give him the breathing space he needed. Sometimes, he just wanted to walk in the rain, skulking in the shadows of old stone buildings, and brooding as he smoked his half-wet cigarette.
He turned a corner to a more crowded road than he just exited. He navigated his way through people with their oversized umbrellas nimbly, slipping unnoticably among them. Just another crazy guy who was getting wetter and wetter by the moment. He reached a tiny shop with a roofed portico and stopped. He spat out the limp cigarette hanging between his lips, fished out a new one from his jacket's pocket, and lit it absentmindedly, glancing through the window of the shop he was standing in front of.
Roses. Dozens of them, half-bloomed, on a large tin bucket. Blood red roses. They always caught his eyes first among the other flowers.
His eyes softened and he stood there, staring through the glass window of the flower shop, half-lost in his own thoughts. The door creaked open and an elderly man with a kind wrinkled face stepped out, smiling at him.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" the old man gestured at the roses.
Spike Spiegel exhaled his cigarette smoke. "Yeah."
"Would you like to buy some? To give to the lady, maybe?"
"I have no woman, gramps."
The old man laughed. "Step in to the shop. I'm sure someone will come to your mind." He laughed again and opened the door, walking in without looking back.
The young man flicked his half-smoked cigarette onto the wet street and walked inside. The cigarette sizzled and died among the puddle.
Inside the store, the old man was already selecting the roses from the tin bucket, his back to him. "I'll give you a special price, young man. I don't believe a young strapping lad like you doesn't have a woman at all."
"It's just you remind me of someone," the old man continued. He turned around, carrying the flowers in his hands, and walked to his work table. "In fact, that someone should be here anytime soon. He's a regular customer. Always stops by to buy flowers for his little lady while she's at the cathedral there." He held up a stem of red rose to him. "A dozen red roses for you?"
Spike nodded, an amused smile on his face, resigning to the fact that he have been rather coerced into buying flowers by the old man.
The bell hanging on top of the front door clang, along with the faint creaking of the door. "Ah, it's you!" The old man looked up an exclaimed delightedly, giving Spike a quick wink.
Spike turned to look at the man who just stepped in. He understood now why the old man said he reminded of the other man. He was around the same age as he was. He was also just as tall, his facial features were as sharp, and Spike instinctively knew he could be a dangerous man when needed.
The newcomer spared him what seemed to be a quick glance, and Spike knew with that one glance the man had noted every little detail about him. The newcomer looked back past Spike to the flower man and nodded curtly. "I'll have the usual."
"A dozen white long-stemmed roses, coming up."
Spike turned around. "Gramps, no need to arrange mine into a bouquet. Just cut away the thorns and the leaves so I could hold them."
"If that's what you want, young man. Amon," the old man addressed the other man, "Robin-chan is at the church, as usual?"
Spike suddenly realized the tolling of the church bell. The clock striking three in the afternoon.
Amon nodded again. "She'll be here soon."
"Ah, it's good to have a girlfriend, isn't it? I was just telling this young man here," the old man indicated towards Spike with his chin while he continued preparing the flowers, "that he should have one he could give these roses to."
This time Amon's eyes flickered to Spike's and Spike was forced to give him a sheepish smile. "Well, some of us aren't as lucky." Amon gave him a small grudging smile back.
"Done!" the old man exclaimed. Spike turned to face him and was awarded a bunch of red roses tied together with a string. Amon's was a bouquet, wrapped neatly in pale blue paper and decorated with white ribbons.
"Thank you, gramps. How much does it cost?" Spike asked, his hand rummaging inside his jacket's pocket to find some money.
"It's 10 woolong," Amon said beside him, handing his own money to the old man.
"10 woolong, huh?" Spike said, fishing the money from his pocket and handing it to the man.
The door bell tinkled again and Amon spun around, bouquet in hand.
"Robin-chan!" the old man called out cheerfully. "How are you?"
Spike turned around too, and was met with the sight of a young teenage girl in a curiously long and heavy dark-colored dress with a matching long coat. It somehow suited her, though. Although young, she had an air of seriousness and matureness that almost matched Amon's. She's probably more mature than Faye, this girl, Spike mused.
"I'm fine, uncle, thank you." Her voice was low and smooth, unlike Faye's nasal throaty voice. She looked at Amon and said, "We should be going."
He nodded, but he didn't move. Instead, he gave her the bouquet of roses he was holding. Robin gave him a small smile, took the bouqouet, and said, "Thank you." She turned around then and walked to the door, Amon following her closely.
"See you again!" The old man called out after them.
Spike watched them through the glass window, walking close together without talking, crossing the road in front of the shop. They reached a simple black car parked across the street and got in, Amon in the driver's seat.
"Striking couple, aren't they?" The old man remarked. He was watching them too.
"Gramps, you're a hopeless romantic, you know that?" Spike said, amused laughter in his voice.
"That's why I own a flower shop, hey. Now go and give those flowers to someone special."
Spike gave him a smile. "If I can find one today, huh, gramps? Thanks for the flowers."
"Think of the women you have in your life, my lad. One of them might really appreciate those flowers."
He gave him a courtesy nod, said thank you once more, and walked out of the shop. The light rain had slowed down until it was almost unnoticable. He stood outside the shop, on the pavement for a while, looking at a pair of church towers looming against the dark grey sky. Smiling, he set his course towards them.
Later than night, when he came back to the Bebop, the flowers had lost their binding string and half of its original number. He walked in through the main door and was greeted by the loud sound of the TV and the smell of dinner wafting through the air. For once, they had quite some money for Jet to cook decent meals for them. Spike liked to think Jet's cooking was not decent at all, but it was nice not to eat instant cup noodles all the time.
He walked into the living room and saw Faye lying on the sofa, flipping a magazine with a bored expression on her face, the TV blaring without being noticed at all. He smiled. "Hey, Faye."
She turned her head and gave him a dark face. "Where did you go all day? Jet made me get the groceries with Ed and Ein! You were supposed to do it, weren't you?"
"Oh, I went here and there. Hey, this is for you." He chucked five stems of roses to her. She caught them deftly enough but stared at them with bewildered confusion. "You're giving me roses? Whatever for?"
He started walking to his room, in his hand one last remaining rose. "Oh, nothing. Some old man in a flower shop gave them to me."
He had already disappeared from her sight when he heard her call out in a puzzled tone, "What were you doing in a flower shop???"
He stopped in front of Ed's room and knocked.
"In-in!" her cheerful voice trilled from inside. He pushed open the door and saw her sitting on the floor, typing happily on her computer. "Here, Ed." She turned around and he threw the rose to her.
"WAI! Spike-person gave Ed a rose!"
"Yeah, don't give it to Ein to eat, alright?"
"YAAAAAAY!" Ed screamed out joyfully and started jumping up and down on the bed, clutching the rose.
Spike smiled exasperatedly, closed the door, and walked away. He reached inside his pocket for his cigarette and a lighter and leaning against the wall, he lit it up, thinking of the six other roses he had put on the doorstep of a certain building.
The building where Julia had lived.
He inhaled his cigarette deeply and said out loud to himself, "Fool."
---------------------------
DISCLAIMER:
Cowboy Bebop and Witch Hunter Robin are not mine.
NOTE:
Like I said, I wanted to write this, because the imageries were too strong. The fic is highly inspired by where I am living now, a charming medieval university town with the oldest cathedral in the country in the heart of it.
What's more, I want Spike to meet his twin from WHR, Amon. Both series were made by the same animation studio so it is no wonder that they remind me of each other. However, I do not want to make an involvement out of it. For timeline's sake, I guess you can say this fic takes place before Bebop ends and after WHR ended (where, you know, Amon and Robin went off and opened their own kebab shop.)
BTW, this could be a Valentine's day fic with all those roses. But too late for that, huh?
Please forgive the grammar/spelling mistakes! Thanks for reading.