A/N: Ever wondered what the purple flower event would be like in Mistel's POV? Well, wonder no more haha. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and favorites and follows! You have no idea how happy it makes me—a person with no self confidence. I'm not extremely happy with this chapter, but am excited for the next :)

Anyways, as always, let me know what you think.

Chapter Three

Mistel tensely paced back and forth in the apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists as they trembled in rage. He hardly slept a wink the night before. As soon as she left yesterday Iris had told him some of their conversation—to his dismay. His head had been clouded with unadulterated jealousy as soon as Iris had told him she was going on a date with him, and he hardly heard a word Iris had said after that. He refused to think her name again, he didn't want to soil its beauty with the bitterness that it would surely sound like in his mind.

Although Iris insisted that it wasn't a date—that it was just a dinner that he was going to cook for her to make up for kissing her—he didn't care. He couldn't help but to think the worse case scenario, that the dinner was going to be a romantic one; with candles, flowers, and all the fixings that came with romanticism. That he was going to be sweet and compliment her all night, that the food would be wonderful, and then at the end of the night he would kiss her like she deserved to be kissed—subsequently making her fall in love with him. Mistel had never before detested someone as much as he did him. He could rot in the depths of hell for all he cared.

She's going to fall in love with a fool and it's all my fault, he thought to himself miserably, clenching his hands even tighter. He knew he should have confessed his feelings for her earlier, but he was just too nervous. Rejection was a feeling he was used to by now, but every time it happened it didn't hurt any less than he thought it would. If he had confessed to her and she turned him down he knew that the heartbreak would be his worst yet. After not being able to sleep he had thoroughly evaluated his feelings for her, and he came to the conclusion that he was in love—a love he had never felt before, and it hurt so, so horribly.

He felt as if he was going to vomit at any moment and tried his best not to dry heave. The thought of her sitting with him by a candle lit dinner was the most atrocious thing he could ever imagine. There were a few things worse, but he wouldn't dare think of them for fear that if did he would lose control over his bodily functions and vomit at the idea. He didn't think he deserved her, let alone that simpleminded boy. He knew that if he ever kissed her again without her permission that he would cut his throat with one swift slice, then unceremoniously bury the body and spit upon his corpse before doing so. The fool deserved nothing less.

Iris had spent the night at Klaus's so he didn't even have her to spill his woes upon, even though it was her fault to begin with that he even knew this information. If she hadn't told him at least he would be in ignorant bliss right now with hope that his love might grace him with her presence today. Instead he would be walking around with a gloomy cloud above his head all day, just begging to pour down on him and ruin whatever measly amount of happiness he could muster.

He just didn't understand her; she flabbergasted him beyond his comprehension. Why had she been flirting with him like that, why had she wanted to kiss him so badly if she already had plans to go on a date with him? He knew she wasn't lying, and it had little to do with the way her beautiful ruby eyes gazed into his—her tell was so obvious. Whenever she did lie she would always grin so large that adorable dimples would form in her rosy cheeks, and he would always find himself fighting off the urge to embrace her and kiss her madly at the view; the look was too much for his little heart to handle.

He abruptly stopped pacing and released his fists as he suddenly realized why she had looked so ashamed the other day. She had known that if he found out about her dinner with him that it would no doubt cause him great pain, which would surely cause her grief even if she didn't feel the same for him as he did for her—they were good friends, maybe even best, and with her being as magnificent of a person as she was he knew she would never want to hurt him that badly.

Mistel knew now that he had underestimated her intelligence. She knew he had feelings for her, how else would she have known it would cause him pain if he found out about the dinner? She had heard the bitterness in his voice yesterday, she had seen the hurt in his eyes when he told her about the scene in which he had witnessed. He hadn't tried very hard to hide it. He was beginning to think this love for her was starting to cloud his own intelligence. He wasn't too thrilled by that, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

He felt his lips twitch into a large grin as it dawned upon him—she wasn't lying. She had wanted to kiss him, she nearly begged for one. It seemed to him at the time that she wouldn't leave without one, or at least wouldn't leave happy—like she hadn't. Why else would she want a kiss if she didn't at the very least have a crush on him? He knew her well enough now to know that she wasn't the type of person who just went around kissing people without having feelings for them. She wasn't a huntress, someone who easily succumbed to lust; she was sweet and clever and the most exquisite creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, let alone befriending.

His anger was completely abolished by now, and replaced with pure bliss. He glanced at the grandfather clock and saw that it was nearly time to open shop. With much more pep in his step he sprinted down the stairs, skipping every other step. His happiness betrayed him as he missed the second to last step, tripping and falling directly on his ankle. He sharply inhaled as he sat up straight, moving his ankle in different directions to test how it felt. It didn't hurt too badly, but he wasn't sure if it was sprained or just merely twisted, so he decided it would be best to go to the clinic to let Marian examine it.

He carefully stood, balancing on one leg with his arm against the wall to support him. He slowly lowered his other leg, cautiously putting the smallest amount of weight on his foot. He let out a loud sigh of relief. It wasn't broken, he was sure of that. He cursed Klaus for charming his sister into spending the night with him, otherwise she would be here right now to help him to the clinic. Although even if she was here he knew she would make a big fuss over it, and he would probably end up insisting that he didn't need her to escort him there.

Mistel slowly made his way to clinic, careful to support most of his weight on his good foot. He knew that this was going to take awhile, and wasn't too happy that the shop was going to have to be closed for the day. He felt a pang in his heart, realizing he probably wouldn't see his love today. His mood switched back into a gloomy one and he sighed as reached the guild.

Without even looking up from her counter Veronica gave him a halfhearted greeting, too absorbed in whatever paperwork she was looking at to even notice his current state. As soon as he walked into the clinic Angela noticed the slight limp in his walk and nudged Marian on the shoulder, who was writing something down in his notebook. Marian looked up from his notebook and to him and asked, "What brings you to the clinic, honey? Have you been injured?"

"I tripped and it seems that I've hurt my ankle, would you mind examining it?"

"Of course, dear! Just give me a few moments, I need to finish up some work right now," Marian replied. He turned to Angela and said, "Angela, would you be a dear and show Mistel to one of the beds?"

"Of course, doctor. Follow me," Angela said in her usual professional tone, gesturing for him to follow her. She led him to one of the clinic's beds and took out her clipboard as he sat. Angela raised an eyebrow at him as she said, "So, it appears you can walk just fine. What hurts?"

"Evidently my ankle, obviously," he retorted bitterly, narrowing his eyes at her. She was acting as if this was causing a nuisance to her day.

"Hmm...I see," Angela said simply, scribbling something down in her clipboard. "The doctor will see you shortly. Please just rest while he finishes up with his work."

He gave a slight nod as Angela walked over to the file cabinet. He sighed loudly. This was causing a huge nuisance in his day. He had dusting and paperwork of his own to do, and this seemed to him like it was going to take awhile. He hoped Marian would finish up soon, then maybe he would still have time to get some work done.

He felt like he was waiting for at least four hours, but was probably closer to two, when he heard someone enter the clinic. "Hey, doc, how's it goin'?" He knew that goofy, annoying voice. His blood almost started to boil just by the sound of it.

"Not too well, darling," he heard Marian sigh. "It seems Mistel has been terribly injured, I'm afraid his leg may very well be broken!"

"W-what?!" he heard the fool stammer. "I gotta go get Miss Iris right away!"

"I'm just joking, dear!" Marian called after him, but before the words even left his mouth the fool had already ran off and out of the clinic.

Mistel chuckled at hearing him call Iris Miss Iris, knowing how much she hated to be called that—it made her feel old. He heard Marian giggle slightly and stand, crossing the clinic and making his way over to him. "So, what happened, honey?"

"I missed a step walking down the staircase," he sighed. "I think I'm all right, but I thought it would be best for you to make sure. I don't want to make it any worse if it is injured."

"That was very good thinking, if you ever feel like you're ill or injured in any way make sure you come straight here," Marian said with a small smirk. Mistel nodded his head as Marian leaned down and grabbed a hold of his ankle, twisting it in all directions. "Does that hurt?"

"Only slightly," he replied.

"All right, now stand up and walk around a little," Marian insisted. He complied, and put a little more weight on his foot than earlier. He walked around the room a couple of times and to his relief he found that his ankle hardly hurt at all.

"You seem to be walking just fine!" Marian exclaimed. "That's wonderful. I'm sure you'd like to get back to your shop now, and since everything appears to be fine to me I don't see why you can't leave now."

"Thank you, doctor," he sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be very bothersome if I was bedridden for weeks over a sprained ankle."

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't be too bothersome," Marian said teasingly as they walked to the front of the clinic. "I have no doubt that Bee would be at your bedside, nursing you back to health."

He felt a slight heat rise in his face, but before he could protest Iris and the fool hastily ran into the clinic, both of them looking startled.

He turned to them and asked with a solemn expression sprawled across his face, "Goodness, what is all this fuss?" He refused to look at him, instead solely giving his full attention to Iris.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Iris exclaimed, no longer looking startled but relieved. "You look well for someone who was terribly injured. Fritz came running to get me." She turned to the redhead and put a hand to her hip, giving him a displeased look.

"Huh? Wait, you can walk? Are you sure you should be doing that?" Fritz asked in perplexity, a quizzical look upon his face.

"Of course I can walk. I just tripped, is all!" he sighed loudly, still refusing to look at him.

Fritz hung his head low, murmuring, "Huh? But..."

"Goodness, did you really believe that?" Marian giggled softly. "No one is seriously going to break a leg missing a step or two down the staircase, darling."

"Really?!" Fritz confusingly asked with a baffled look on his face. I wasn't aware he could become even more of a fool, Mistel bitterly thought.

"Sheesh, must you make a fuss over everything?" Mistel harshly asked him, still not looking directly at him. He turned to Marian and said crossly, "Though doctor, I don't think it's appropriate for someone in your position to exaggerate the condition of a patient."

Marian turned to him and emoted, "Well, I hardly thought he would actually believe me!

"And I did follow it up right away by saying I was kidding, but he had already dashed off before the words even left my mouth. Still, you're right. I'm very sorry, honey."

Just then Beatrice frantically dashed through the door with a frightened look upon her face, causing them all to turn to her in unison. He felt his mood lighten slightly by her presence, then it quickly turned back into one of irritation realizing the fool was still in the room.

He felt his face twist into a somber expression, and averted his eyes slightly as he solemnly asked, "And you were dragged into this, too?"

She gave him a quizzical look and cocked her head slightly to the side. He felt his lips twitch into a small smirk at the view. She was so worried about him that she had taken time out of her busy day just to make sure he was okay.

"I assure you, I'm quite all right," he said simply. "I tripped and twisted my ankle, is all. But it seems these two decided to make it sound worse. They found that amusing, I suppose!" He chuckled dryly, then shot Fritz a quick glare—looking at him for the first time since he entered the clinic.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at Fritz, then at Marian for a second. When she looked back at him she grinned so large that dimples formed in her cheeks, and her eyes shone with relief. He felt his heart flutter at the look, and tried his best to keep his expression neutral.

"I'm sorry to have made you worry. I'm sure you must've been rather put out."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Beatrice stammered, giving him a perplexing look.

"Hmm? I mean that precisely as I said it. Isn't worrying about someone else an unwanted interruption to your day?" he returned. "I'm pretty sure it would be for me, at least." Unless you, my dear, were injured, he thought involuntarily to himself, trying his best to repress a smile.

Her ruby eyes widened and she frantically shook her head as she fiercely insisted, "Oh, no, not at all! I wouldn't be able to get any work done if I hadn't of came. I thought you were terribly injured! I would have been a nervous wreck all day and night."

"Bee has the right idea, Mistel," Iris said, making him start. He had nearly forgotten that him and Beatrice weren't the only two people in the room. "I could never just stand there, knowing you were hurt, worrying about how bad it might be...

"But now that we know you're all right, there isn't a single thing I feel 'put out' about!" Iris giggled softly, flashing a big smile.

He considered the thought for a few moments, then looked away and sighed, "I see. So that's how it is, then?"

"Of course!" Iris said, beaming. "Now, then, I'll be going back home, if there's nothing else... I left in such a hurry I didn't even have a chance to lock the door!" Oh, so you came home after I tripped? He would have said it to her out loud if he knew she wouldn't box his ears for embarrassing her in front of all of them.

The redheaded fool turned to Beatrice and hung his head low, murmuring, "I'm really sorry." He turned to Mistel and grinned a goofy smile, saying, "Anyway, I've got to head back as well. There's still work to be done! Take care of yourself." Iris and Fritz began to walk out of the clinic, and as soon as Fritz turned around Mistel shot him a quick glare.

"I ought to get back to work myself," Marian said. "Bee, if you don't mind, could you walk Mistel home? Thanks, honey!"

Beatrice nodded her head enthusiastically, flashing him her brilliant smile—subsequently making his heart flutter. He felt a little irritated at Marian. He didn't need an escort. "I can walk perfectly fine," he said firmly. "There's no need for anyone to walk me all the way home."

"Ah-aaah!" Marian sang. "I said just in case. That's doctor's orders, so you have to obey. Doctors even override captains, you know!" Marian gave a little wink to Beatrice, causing her cheeks to turn a pink hue. Mistel shook his head slightly. Was Marian trying to set them up or something?

"Take care, both of you. Ta-tah!" Marian said as he walked away, giving Mistel a small wink, too. He was sure of it—Marian was trying to get them together. He knew Marian loved nothing more than to push two people together, and he always seemed to be in the know of who liked who.

They both watched as Marian walked into the back of the clinic, therefore leaving them alone. They turned to each other in unison, and when her ruby eyes met his he felt a spark. He felt his heart speed up at the sensation, and averted his eyes for fear his heart might give up on him. He felt his face twist into a sober expression as he murmured, "Well, guess that's that, then. I'm sorry, but would you please accompany me?"

"Of course!" Beatrice said in a sing-song voice, grinning so large that her dimples showed, and then turned to walk out of the clinic. He couldn't help but to chuckle loudly at seeing how pleased she was to escort him home.

At the sound of his laugh she turned around to face him again, her face adorned with a befuddled look. He smirked and put a hand on his hip, laughing loudly at the look, "...Oh, sorry! I was just thinking of the expression on your face, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"It was only a little sprain, but you dashed in looking so terrified, one might think the world was ending!"

She scowled at him for a moment, scolding, "It's not funny, Mistel. I was so awfully worried."

"I know, I know, it's not a laughing matter. You were genuinely worried about me," he chuckled again, trying his best to compose himself. She was even adorable when her face was distorted in a scowl. He took a moment to think. He still couldn't comprehend why this obvious inconvenience in her day didn't annoy her in the slightest. He felt his lips twitch into a mischievous smirk as he simply said, "To be honest, I still can't understand why you aren't bothered having to worry about someone else like that. It would rile me up for sure!"

His grinned widened as he said with evident joy in his tone, "But I guess...it isn't too bad to have someone desperately wishing for my safety. Thank you, Beatrice." It made him feel elated that for once in his life someone other than Iris worried and cared for him that much.

She grinned from ear to ear, gushing, "Of course I wish for your safety, you're my best friend!"

'Best friend', he thought miserably to himself, but kept his expression neutral. He wished more than anything that she would have said instead, "Of course I wish for your safety, you're the love of my life!"

"Shall we be going, then?" he asked flatly.

She nodded her head in response, her huge grin remaining on her face—oblivious of his sudden change of mood. While she escorted him home she swung her arms back and forth merrily, whereas he kept his arms firmly behind his back. He kept his eyes forward but could feel hers stealing glances at him every once in awhile. He couldn't help but to feel a little angry with her. If she thought them best friends then why didn't she tell him herself that she was busy on Saturday because of her dinner with him, even if it was purely platonic. He would much prefer if she was more direct with him; this game of theirs was beginning to emotionally drain him.

As they reached the western part of town he felt her hand brush up against his. A few steps later he felt it again, and she gently attempted to grab a hold of his—but before she could he harshly recoiled his hand and crossed his arms under his chest. He kept his eyes forward as he said in disdain, "I'm pretty sure the social norm is to only hold hands with children and your lover. Do you think of me as either of those things?"

"Wh-what?" she sputtered. "Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?"

Now standing out front of his home, he turned to her and scornfully said, "Iris told me why you won't be around on Saturday. If we're such good friends, then why didn't you just tell me yourself?" Instead of worrying me to the point where I couldn't sleep.

"I... I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression," Beatrice replied in a low tone. "He's just apologizing to me for what he did, is all."

"I just wish you would have told me yourself," he muttered. "I thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I would believe you if you told me it was for that reason, and that reason only." He hesitated for a moment. "And not that it's a date—which wouldn't matter anyway, since we aren't dating or anything."

Beatrice stared at him in silent stupor for a few moments, tightly grabbing her brunette locks while her ruby eyes were ablaze in a passion, appearing as if she might start crying at any moment. He felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. This was by far the worst look he had ever seen on her face. "I'm so sorry," she murmured lamentably after a couple of minutes. "Friends shouldn't have secrets, I promise I'll tell you everything from now on."

He gave a slight nod, and before he could even react she grabbed both of his hands, entwining her fingers with his. He felt a spark as their skin made contact, and his eyes widened in shock for a second. He relished in the way her hands felt in his, even though they were a bit cold. If he had known it felt so good to have her skin against his he would have held her hands long ago. "Am I still welcomed over on Sunday? I thought perhaps we could play darts," she asked softly, giving him a small smile and squeezing his hands.

"Erm—Of course," he stammered, taken slightly aback. "You're always welcome here, Beatrice." He took a step closer, grasping her hands more tightly and gazing down at her slightly with an intensity in his stare. With a mischievous smirk he timidly asked, "May I kiss your cheek? As a repayment for escorting me home, o-of course!"

He could feel her warm breath against his face and felt his heart speed up. He watched as her cheeks turned a dark hue of pink and he heard her swallow hard as she gave a small nod. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he slowly leaned down, placing the most tender of kisses on the side of her heated face. He kept his lips upon her cheek for a few moments, then reluctantly pulled back.

When he looked back into her eyes he saw that she was staring at him with such an intensity that it put the sun to shame, and felt his heart quicken even further—he wasn't aware it could beat so fast. She kept her fingers firmly laced with his as she whispered, "I'll be looking forward to Sunday. Perhaps I'll stop by for a little while tomorrow and Friday, too. Maybe we can have tea?"

"Sounds fantastic," he said, beaming. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

She slowly slid her hands out from under his grasps, then put them to her brunette locks and frantically ran them through her silken strands. "Until then," she whispered. "Farewell, Mistel."

"Goodbye, Beatrice," he softly called after her as she walked away. She turned her head slightly and gave a small wave, a coy smile sprawled across her still heated face. He let out a loud sigh once he saw her reach the eastern stairs, his head now clear and vastly less happy now that she wasn't in his presence. He started to pace back and forth out front of his door, mulling over everything that had just taken place.

Perhaps this isn't a game, after all. Even if the game was still in process, they were now at a standstill. Although he felt immensely relieved to hear from her own mouth that the dinner was just a dinner, and nothing more, he still wasn't sure where this left them. He knew she was rather shy when it came to those sort of things, but would she have reacted differently if it were Raeger who had done what he had, or even him? Would she have wanted to hold either of their hands, would she have given them a bashful smile with the most adorable look upon her face afterward? Would either of them have that effect on her?

He hadn't the slightest clue, and that was what was bothering him now. He still couldn't help but to feel uneasy about her dinner. He thought that sharing a meal with someone was an intimate thing—one that you would do with your family or lover. He didn't think it was a friendly thing to do. Friends drank tea and had sweets together, not meals. He wished more than anything it was him having dinner with her instead. He had no doubt he was a better cook than that fool.

He stopped pacing. He knew now what he was going to—determined—to do. He was going to confess to her on Sunday, no matter how nervous he was or if she denied him. He couldn't go on like this anymore, not knowing whether or not she felt the same for him as he did for her. He didn't want anymore sleepless nights, worrying that if he didn't tell her soon that she would surely start dating someone else; even if she did like him, he knew she would only wait so long, and felt like his time would no doubt run out sooner than later.

If the game was still going on he was going to win—or break his heart trying.