Roses do not speak – a tale of stags and lilies
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Author's note: what makes this story what it is are the details. When / if you're going to read it, please, make sure you're not doing anything else. If you would, leave reviews. I'd like to know what you think of it. Kisses!
Roses do not speak, I know. But how about lilies? Do they? Nothing seems to work. Lilies do not cooperate. I ask myself what would happen if it were different. If lilies would let me in, if they would let me know what they really feel, stags wouldn't need their horns (A/N: NOT IN THAT WAY! This is a serious story, ok?) – defense, irony, games. If lilies would give me a sign, as tiny as it could possibly be, stags would stop being stags, they would behave like puppies then, running around to take a glimpse of their beauty, their little tales swinging.
Lilies are imponent. Like unreachable mountains that give the impression of touching the sky, of being surrounded by clouds, being among them. Following the same thought, stags are always with their heads in the clouds. Stags should supposedly be able to reach out for the lilies. If not, at least offer them the stars and the moon.
But the stag does not. Stags are not romantic, even if they want to be with all their strength. Stags play in the grass, they do not sing love songs; stags take walks under the full moon with their mates, they do not write poetry. Stags fear risking themselves to public humiliation, in spite of their pose. Or in its behalf. Or yet by its means.
Opposing to all the expectations, the stag collects himself, not drawing wolfs or dogs or rats or full moons anymore, instead scribbling big words, with meanings that he does not have enough sureness of knowing –words like love, eternally, happiness. But which he believes knowing.
The stag stands up all of a sudden, willing to try once again, to look for the purity hidden inside the pretty package. The ingenuity that does not allow itself to show him its whereabouts, the only who seems to not have permition to know her, being too the only one who has to look for her.
The stag "gallops" fast. He runs his eyes through the evening's serene water, a not pleasant tree, a castle in its majesty, a sky full of stars, ancient hallways, moldy library, known faces, burning fire, not accurate directions given, cozy Monitor's office. Open window, light wind, flowing auburn. Emerald green turns at the stag's entrance, but there is no eye contact, only a "stem wave".
"Good evening, Potter", and so lily turns her attention back to the horizon, lost in thought, just like her co-worker.
"Evans", stag answers, disinterest in his voice. He walks up to the window slowly, standing beside her, hands almost touching. Lowered head, analyzing lily intently. She, on the other hand,looked like she had forgotten that he was even there. "Lily", he spoke, secure, in a tone that suggested correction. A risky maneuver.
But there was no answer.
Unreachable, above his understanding.
Stags constantly wish upon stars when facing a problem. This one was no exception. He would turn to the sky, pick the one that looked the farthest. He would not mind the name that it probably already had been given, and would name it "Lily". He would tell it what he considered impossible to tell the lily next to him. All in silence, in a matter of moments. And that, all in all, he would know that would not have repercussion. That is, he would not have usaid/u anything. It would remain as unsettled as it had been before.
And soon would lily half-turn in his direction, having part of her face enlightned by the moon and maybe by that one star. Stag would shoot a final glance at the sky and would turn his back to it.
"A dime for your thoughts"
"Were you looking for something here?", lily would ask with indifference, not arrogance. Most importantly: she would change the subject of discussion.
"If I said 'yes', what would you say?"
"I'd ask 'what?'"
"And what if I said 'no'?"
"Then I get annoyed because we're not going anywhere and I can't stand going round and round and not moving an inch. It's enough boredom handling it once a minute, I guess"
"Good, because my answer was the first one", stag would choose not to question her. He was happy that they had gone through the hostily for a change.
"Following the itinerary: what?"
"You."
"And what would you possibly want from me?"
"A lot of things", hearing the answer, lily would roll her eyes, thinking of what was about to come. She would believe asking that question that way as being a fatal mistake. "Like knowing what bothers you", stag would add, realizing what she was doing.
"Anything else?", she would be clearly surprised, but that would not make her answer. Stag already knew it would not be that simple, though.
"Yes. Buggin' til gettin'", he would stop for a second. "As much as I really want it, this will have to wait. The main cause here is asking why you're the way you are around me".
And so he would watch her get caught unarmed. She would not have a specific or prepared answer. It had been so long ago that even herself could not seem to know. Everything as planned. And she would open her mouth, without really having anything to say in the fisrt couple of moments.
"W-well, b-because... bec-cause... people cannot change what they are?", she would figure, uncertain about her own answer.
"I could"
"Uh... okay" she would agree, insecure. That would be a victory itself, since she did admit that he was not the same, after all.
"And you were never like this with anyone but me"
"And how would you possibly know that?"
"I just do"
They would stay quiet, both lily and stag, each with their own thoughts and speculation. The flower's ones would startle her and would behave as if they had lives of their own.
"Do you really want to know, James Potter? It's real hard doing all possible uand/u impossible to let go off someone when they're filtering more and more, and you end up letting them, despite everything. Then, one day, you look around and you realize that there is no come back and all you did wrong in this "assignment" will turn back against you, as well adjusted as the situation may seem to you right now"
And lily would make this statement stumbling over her words and yelling – which stag would never know whether it was at him or to herself -, falling to the floor, breaking down, making it harder for him to hear her exact words.
Stag would bend over, so that he would stay in the same level as lily, whose hands would now be hiding her face.
"Shh... shh... What will turn back against you?", he would have an arm around her shoulder and would bring her closer to him, but lily still would not let him get too close.
"Isn't that what you do? You get the girl and then enjoy breaking her heart?"
"No, no, no. Didn't you just say I've changed?", he would ask calmly. Only now he would see the flower's inside. She would have blossomed right there, in front of him, without any previous notice.
"I just don't know how much..."
"A hundred percent. I love you, Lily. You deserve it."
Carnations fight, roses get smashed, but lilies have a very special way. I mean, in the end, lilies are the stags' favourite flowers.
&&&
Star, the farthest I can see –
like the flower beside me –
what do I do for her to open up?
How do I find out what she truly feels?
So close and so far away,
so much love and so much indifference,
so much opportunities and no score.
A request and a wish of realization.
Reality or utopy?
The farthest help and the most unconvencional,
listen to my call.
Bring her down from her hiding spot,
bring her to my reach.
&&&
Yes, roses do not speak. But stars listen, and that's enough.
It shone suddenly, although none of the two saw it happening. They were too busy with other concerns