Pink and Yellow
By SSQ
He never liked endings, never liked goodbyes. After all, she did promise him forever, didn't she?
His pink and yellow human, his wonderful Rose. Rassilion, how he missed her. Even now, in this new body that had never seen her, he still missed her. The way she insisted her hair be dyed with peroxide, the way she chewed on her lip…all the little things he would never see again. Oh Rose…
The TARDIS doors slammed shut, and laughter filled the room. Amy and Rory entered, hands filled with shopping. "Doctor! Why didn't you come out with us?" Asked Amy. "London is loads of fun in the 1950s."
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid I was working on the TARDIS the entire time, didn't even cross my mind that we'd landed." He lied through his teeth. He couldn't risk running into his past self after all. Or Rose. His marvelous Rose.
"Oh really," Amy crossed her arms. "Then why aren't you underneath the consol with your screwdriver?"
The Doctor cursed under his breath. "Alright fine, you caught me. I just really don't like 1950s London. Their fashion sense was terrible." He scoffed, eyes never leaving the photograph next to the typewriter. "Did I ever tell you about Barcelona? Not the city, but the planet. The dogs there don't have noses!"
He didn't mention how his hearts clench at the thought of going to Barcelona without Rose. Ah, yes, Barcelona with Rose was his ninth symphony; impossible to complete. They never had the chance, not once. An impossible planet, New Earth, 1950s London, the Torchwood Estate, the works. But never Barcelona. He always thought she'd love Barcelona.
After all, the flowers there only came in pink and yellow.