Pink for affection. Red for I'll lay down my life for you. The perfect colors for Valentine's.
Often though, Rose was associated with her favorite color, pink, while her boyfriend was associated with the color red. Yet, it was so much more than that as she fiddled with a couple roses, watching the dethorned flowers move through her fingers. One that was pink, and the other that was red.
She'd been fighting with herself over what colors could possibly show an everlasting love, with a desire for the years to do nothing more than help them grow together and mature as one. Rose is smiling, though she feels that she should have picked up some Lamb's Ear too, though she knows that the more that she debates over all of this, the more money that she doesn't have that she'll spend. It's why she's only holding two roses and not a dozen of them.
Roses just this once seemed far more romantic than chocolate, and yet, she can't seem to find the words to express herself, with about twenty five different love letters scattered over her desk. She'd been trying to compose something, sweet, genuine, and real for him, but no words seemed to say it just right. They either weren't enough or they went over the top.
Her eyes flickered back over to them, before she opted to stand. Today, she'll ask for him to marry her, she'll propose, even though a part of her wants to hear him say those words instead. Rose's mind is more blank than she remembers it being, as she grabs her phone, smiling faintly at the text from Nathanael.
She grabbed her purse and left all of her discarded letters behind. She'd have to trust her lips and tongue to say the words that her mind could not quite articulate.
Nathanael was holding a box of chocolates when they met up at the park, fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm against it. He seemed just as nervous as Rose felt. She eyed his fidgety hands as if they held all of life's answers, though she could not read why they were so fidgety.
"Hey." Nathanael's smiling though, and Rose immediately breathes in a breath of fresh air that relaxes her slightly. He offers her the box.
"Hey." She accepts it with a very shy, "Thank you." It feels different today; this Valentine's feels like something other than it has ever felt like. She isn't quite sure why, other than the way the roses feel in her hands, and somehow her palms are sweaty.
"These are for you." She hands over both roses, realizing belatedly that she could be seen as the third one, given her name.
"Thank you." Nathanael's smile looks even brighter. "Do you want to walk over to my studio?"
Rose loves visiting the small studio that he bought some months back. It's tiny, and yet, since he bought it, he doesn't have to rent it out. It's always full of half-complete projects and gorgeous paintings that she can never take her eyes off of. She was still surprised that they weren't in museums yet.
"I'd love to." Nathanael offers his hand as soon as he hears her agree to go. It's a decent sized walk from this park, but it isn't necessarily a bad one. It gives more time to talk and to hold hands as hours seem to pass by in moments.
And talk, they do. They speak of the sunrise this morning, both having woken up with the sun surprisingly. Rose still didn't know how they could be so coordinated when they lived on opposite ends of Paris. They spoke of their rather busy weeks leading up to Valentine's Day. They spoke of their families' various traditions this time of year and how they were playing out so far. They attempted to set up a date for this coming up week, but couldn't decide on where to go. Nothing seemed just right, whether concerts or museum visits or walks across parks or streets or even any of their favorite restaurants. None seemed fitting for next week.
Finally, they walked across the street and arrived at Nathanael's studio as he unlocked it and led her in. As he went to flicker on the lights, he looked over at her, and Rose could see the nervousness that fluttered from one end of his face to the other. He was never nervous like this showing her his artwork, whether it was the paintings that lined his studio or the comics that he drew.
Rose took a deep breath as light flickered on, and she looked up at a painting that she'd never seen before, whether in progress or not. It was in the absolute center of the small studio, was dry and clearly not too recently painted, and colors reminded her simultaneously of the sunset or even this morning's sunrise and the starlit nights from a little outside of the Parisian limits.
In the middle of the painting was a carefully painted silhouette of a woman in white and a man in black. Their hands were intertwined though no distinguishing aspects of who they were could be seen. You couldn't tell the hair color, and the two weren't facing towards the onlookers of the painting. It was merely their backs and them encased in near shadow.
Her eyes traced upward and the stars overhead seemed to shape out words. 'Will you marry me, Rose?' Her breath got trapped in her throat, and she nearly dropped the box of chocolates that Nathanael gave her, and she just had to look at him. It wasn't hope that painted these words there in her mind, right?
She spun around to glance down at her boyfriend. He'd dropped to one knee and in his hand was a black jewelry box with the most gorgeous engagement ring inside that Rose had ever seen. It was pink and white, not striped, and yet the colors resting side by side. The band was thin and gold, and Rose could just picture all of the promises that this very ring represented. The unity, the desire for countless years together, and her breath was once again stopped in her throat.
"Yes! Yes, Yes!" She's nearly jumping as she lets the chocolate box finally slip from her hands, and she runs at her boyfriend to hug him, or perhaps she should call him her fiancee. Her heart is running a marathon in her chest, and her mind is still kind of blank, right now.
Rose can barely breathe past the hammering heart in her chest as she clings to Nathanael, eager for these years to stretch out at this beautiful, perfect pace. He slips the ring on her finger, and she can tell that he's trembling slightly. It slides on perfectly, matched correctly to the size of her ring finger.
Rose has no idea when he figured out her ring size, but the pink and red that she couldn't even begin to define earlier somehow comes to mind, a love that can last eternity.