He was scared
The man he once loved
Gone
The raven-haired man was no longer what he used to be . . . a beautiful, caring, loving man.
Now a stone cold killer. . . but only for one night
Their anniversary
The only day that had meaning to the vicious soul
Everyday once a year; the feelings, the memories all came flooding back. He would always send flowers to his former lover, not caring if he received them or not. Just the fact that he sent them made him happy enough.
A gift back wouldn't hurt, would it?
To one man, it did
Dean
He had actually received every single gift from the last 5 years.
He dreaded the day. Actually, he hated it.
He didn't dare send him a gift or a "thank you". He didn't want to give off the wrong impression that he cared. Dean made it pretty obvious that he didn't.
He would send Dean his favorite things:
White chocolate
A marble
And a flower from his mother's tombstone.
Dean never asked for the flowers, but it was bittersweet. A single white chrysanthemum every year taken from his mother's grave and pressed in a card. Roman's delusional self thought it was sweet.
Dean thought it was quite disturbing. It also made him get an overwhelming feel of guilt.
I wasn't his fault.
She was just trying to help.
That was the problem . . . he didn't want her help.
He didn't mean to, but at the same time
He did
XXXXXXXXXX
7 years ago, Dean's mother went into a coma in their home.
He froze. He prayed and prayed that she wasn't dead.
He cried as he watched the paramedics carefully carry her into the back of the ambulance. He couldn't take it anymore.
He was a monster.
He ran back inside the house, passing the living room, kitchen, dining room and through the hallway that he then forbid himself from going through again. The hallway his mother spent her last angered moments in.
There was yelling, tears and pain throughout their argument. All because she was a caring mother. She was scared that Dean would get his heart broken. She tried everything to make Dean understand what he was getting into.
He didn't want to hear any of it. Instead, he let his anger get the best of him. He hated when people would try to help him . . . with anything.
Then, due to his terrible instinct, he did it . . .
He pushed her hard into the wall.
It took time for him to process what he had just done.
Then, it woke him. She was out cold, laid across the floor of the cold hallway.
Days later, Dean convinced himself to go see her.
There he was, surrounded by distant family members, laying in the arms of the only person he had left.
Roman
Little did Dean know, not only that day did he lose his mother but he was slowly loosing Roman too.
XXXXXXXXXX
Those memories haunted him ever since.
So receiving a flower from his mother's resting place sent by his psycotic ex didn't make it anything better.
But it was only going to get worse from there . . .