1001 Roses
Summary: 1001 roses speak of a faithful love that will live on forever. AkaKuro Oneshot
Genre: Romance/Tragedy
Rating: T (as a precaution)
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. I lay claim to this plot bunny, however.
A/N: I really have to stop getting off track. This is like the 4th? 5th? Plot bunny I have gotten and the third one I am writing out. I have so many stories in progress, yet I can't seem to write a new chapter for them because I have to write out new stories! :'( Enjoy!
Please review, send me your thoughts! I appreciate them a lot. They make my day when I see people like my work.
Challenge for you all… Can you spot all of the hidden messages/clues I embedded into this story? Try to list them in the reviews or send it to me as a pm~ when you do, give me a New Year's Eve prompt and I'll write a quick oneshot (500-1.5k words) for you if you find the most. The deadline for this challenge is 12/20/14. I'll have the oneshot up for you on 12/31/14. ;)
Started: 6/22/14 Ended: 8/11/14
[My procrastination is so bad. Everything planned out, just no idea how to end it. At least I finally finished it.]
Rays of sunlight enter the white room, bereft of any comforting warmth. On a metal bed, swaths of white decorating it, a pale body lay motionless. Light blue hair, so translucently blue that it could be mistaken for the sky, fluttered around the head like a halo, framing a round face, baby fat still evident in minute traces. He was young, looking barely past the age of sixteen. A steady beep bounced off the blinding white walls, dulled only by the light blue curtains blocking most of the sunlight, casting a dim glow into the otherwise shadowed room. Even in the shadows, every object was easily visible, like a blood splatter against a white canvas, a stark symbol of something pure tainted. Against the white clothes he wore, his white skin, pasty and sickly, still contrasted sharply against them.
A vase full of roses casted a shadow across the boy's face, the 6 red roses spoke of love and longing. The vase, handmade, was a light lavender, detailed with brown trailing branches and light pink sakura petals against bright green leaves. A single note, a creamy white, displayed the name Tetsuya in elegant scripture. The gift was out of place in the cold room, empty beyond the machinery and the patient.
A soft creak announced the redhead entering the room, 9 dark red roses in hand. "Tetsuya," he breathed out. It pained him to see the love of his life so still, only the soft breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, reminding him that Kuroko is still alive, merely healing from the car crash. Even with the IVs hooked into his bloodstream, the bandaged chest and forehead, the oxygen mask and feeding tube, Kuroko looked like an angel.
Gently setting the bouquet of red roses on the bedside table, mindful of the vase and various tubes falling from the machine onto the table before leading to the bed, Akashi sat down on a nearby chair, grabbing Kuroko's hand in the process.
The casts and bandages all came off a month ago, but Kuroko has still not awakened. Softly, Akashi rubbed circles onto the back of Kuroko's hand, his red bangs shielding his eyes from the sight of the comatose patient.
"Please, Tetsuya, please wake up. I'm begging you, it's been months. You have not woken up even once since the accident, and that was a year ago! Please, I love you, I hate to see you like this. Just open your eyes. That is all you have to do. Please, my love, please," Akashi pleaded, out of character of the usually demanding and headstrong leader. Kuroko was the only one who was ever able to break through his walls and make him feel human.
Akashi looked up. He felt something change. "Tetsuya?"
In a hand of long tapered fingers lay a small bundle of 3 roses, red, lavender, and white, tied neatly in the middle of the long stems by a light blue ribbon. Tightening his grip on the small bouquet, not too tight though, Akashi asked for a table of two under the reservation of Akashi at the small secluded restaurant, the dim lighting making his crimson red eyes gleam in the darkness. A small glare at the host silenced any comments, making the brunette bow his head in submission and, still bending his body downwards before rising after a moment, carried two menus towards a small table in the back garden. It was simple, quaint, the dark cedar wood contrasting sharply with the dark gold linen and dark brown embroidery. Laying the bouquet on one side of the table and pulling out the chair, he waited a moment before pushing it back, gently, into the table, a small smile on his lips.
Retreating to the other side of the table, he retrieved the menus from the stunned hands of the host, sending him scurrying away like a mouse with a dark glare. When a new waitress came along, eyes fluttering and body slightly angled lower than necessary, he sent her off her little delusional seduction attempt with a cold order of vanilla milkshake for his partner and jasmine tea for himself.
It was a quiet dinner, the food adequate enough, the lights dim, the soft music wafting in. Gesturing for the bill, he paid before retrieving the bouquet, holding it for his date.
-1001 roses delivered weekly, all red- The block letters stood out on the small white receipt, tucked neatly into the ribbon of a single red – perfect red, nothing less – rose, held in a small plastic wrap. Knocking on the door, the man waited until he was face to face with cold eyes, dark red, like rich red wine or freshly drawn blood the man hysterically thought. He hated this job, but it paid well with a high tip regardless of who delivered the flowers, as long as it was on time with not a single stem, leaf, or petal out of place.
Weekly, he would be sent out in a huge moving van, transporting the hundreds of flowers to the huge – fucking ginormous in his opinion – mansion and carry all the 1001 – one fucking thousand and one! - roses to the secluded indoor garden in the back, arrange it all into the light blue vases covering every inch of the room except the glass case in the middle and the paths twisting around the jungle, and take away all of the decaying roses from last week. Honestly, people were fucking starving out on the streets and this guy –Akashi-sama he muttered bitterly – buys over a million yen's worth of perfect red roses weekly.
Still, it pays, and at the end of the day, that is what really matters when you have to put food on the table. Thrusting out his PDA towards the man, he waited until slim fingers, pale and long, similar to a pianist's, grasped the attached stylus and signed the digital receipt. With that done he waited, bowed – bitterly he wonders why he even bothers to go through this process, he drew the draw for the month and the others have enough blackmail to force him to do it for the next 10 months, despite the high pay, all of the delivery folk working for Hanaten (Flower Heaven) hated this damn job for a reason – and then made his way back to his van, only doing so when Akashi-sama brushed pass him with nary a word, the PDA dropped into his hands unceremoniously when he straightened up.
It was creepy as hell, walking back there with bouquets of 10 roses and a single bouquet of one rose that the bastard personally arranges. Cold as ice eyes watched him steadily as he puts the damn things into the vases, the gaze boring into him like a laser. And then, when he leaves the room, a single glance will show the same fucking scene, the rich ass bastard talking to thin air. He would always start off with the same speech, something he had fucking memorized by this point.
"Tetsuya, dear, is this to your liking? Can you not see how devoted I am to you? Can you not see how much I love you? Tetsuya, why are you so quiet? Why are your eyes closed? Tetsuya, are you shy? Do you not believe I love you even after all these years? It's okay, I'll keep buying roses to show you my honesty. Our love will live on forever, I will forever remain faithful towards you. Wait for me, my dear."
Every time, that goddamn bastard talks as if his dead lover was there.
~Owari~
WORD COUNT: 1274