flower thief
He lost another flower today.
The garden was neat and tidy as if it was not moved, not a rock nor a leaf could be seen out of place. But he could see it all, what went misplaced and missing. The colours his flowers bloomed, he knew them all in his memory, so there was no mistaking that three stems of his white roses were taken away.
The frown plastered on his lips deepened along with the creases in between his brows. Who would take interest in his flowers? Sure, he was the only person in the neighborhood who had the patience to tend a flower garden. Most of the times people comment on how un-manly his hobby was, and yet he gave no care. People should care about their own turf. This was his. If people actually liked flowers, they should have grown their own in their yards, or they could have bought some from the shops.
It irked him an awful lot to find some of his flowers plucked from its trees. There were dandelions and daisies in the prairie - and nobody owned those - so why not pick them, instead? Why was the culprit making an effort to climb over his fences, and why was he doing it so stealthily? If the culprit ever tried asking for a stem of rose politely, maybe Len could give some. Now, he could only wonder what motivates the person to barge inside his garden.
Len Kagamine let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging as he brought the new pot down. Last night he stayed in a motel due to the holiday traffic. His excitement to transfer his white roses in full bloom to a separate pot died down (like a deer shot in the wild) when he saw three of his precious flowers gone this morning. What a nice welcome.
His hand found its way to scratch the back of his head in disappointment. This was ridiculous. Why steal flowers? He asked himself for the nth time. Since the culprit managed to barge inside his lot, why not take something more valuable - something that could be sold, you know.
The blond sat in front of his roses, the scowl kept on his face. He had his chin on his palm, his elbow propped up from his folded knees. Meanwhile, his other hand was gripping the trowel loosely. 'This is fucking disheartening,' thought he. Len liked white roses the best because they reminded him of a lovely lady - basically a stranger - who would pass by his garden in the morning and praise the beauty of his white roses. He remembered well how her clear emerald eyes shone when she gazed at his flowers. The lady would smile ever so gently to his flowers and talk to them. She would speak of unwritten poetry lines about his roses' beauty, that no matter how ephemeral a flower was, it's short existence was valuable to the people who'd see it.
That had been his motivation why tend the roses. Not to impress the girl, all right. But rather, he wanted to lighten up people's day if they see beautiful flowers. It was presumptuous for him to assume that flowers had the similar influence to all people, but there was no harm assuming. Since he heard such sweet talk from a lovely lady, maybe people would also see things the same. Flowers were pretty to look at. If these flowers could make a lovely lady even lovelier, what could it do to the world?
All right. The world was an exaggeration. Well, Len was just thinking what sort of impact it could leave to a greater number of could be men and women out there (like him) who would find relief in flowers. Some could find a...deep philosophical connection, like the lovely lady.
Len winced, a sigh escaping his lips. Staying listless would be his top priority as of now, since losing three white roses depressed him a little. He would mope and nobody could stop him.
"Fine," he breathed out, rising from his feet. The sod fell out of the tip of the trowel as he pulled it up as well, leaving a tiny crater on the soil beneath him. The blond glanced at his gates, blue eyes lingering for a moment. It had been three weeks since the lady last walked down this way. She hadn't seen the roses weeks ago since they weren't in bloom back then. Len kind of felt bad if she ever decided to show up again and see none of the white roses. His fringe casted thin shadows over his face as he looked down on the white rose tree. "I'd transfer you tomorrow. Or whenever I feel like doing so. Until then, keep on being pretty, rosy."
He even named his roses. Couldn't they see just how much he valued his roses? The blond put the new pot and trowel on a corner and walked back inside his house. Today was a wasted opportunity to stay out and play with dirt (aka gardening). Len felt bad again since today's weather must have been perfect to stay out.
He grimaced. His blue eyes looked darker today. There was no sunshine outside, just a heavy downfall drowning all the beauty of the greenery. Soaked in cool rainwater, Len stood at his veranda next to his pot plants. When he first heard the faint rapping on his roof, he knew it would be raining cats and dogs in a short moment. Hence, he bolted out of his bed and dashed to his garden to put his flowers under the roof. He couldn't afford losing those colorful petals because of the heavy rain.
So, here he was. A dude who basically bathed in the morning rain...while still in his pajamas. A pool was growing underneath him, he noticed. The blond pulled his hair out of its pony and decided that it would be best to take a warm shower now. He turned around and made his way inside the house.
It felt like the world was drowning. Len thought that the loneliest days were during a downpour. It felt like the entire place was enveloped with coldness - bound to an everlasting isolation. Nobody tried going out. There were no birds chirping, no sun shining, and no flowers blooming. Rainy days were all but serenity. Too glum, Len mused.
He was already out of the shower this time. Len was in the middle of drying his hair when he heard noises from outside, it was as though someone was shaking his wooden fences. He knew that sound so well, even against the noise of the downpour. It was too early in the morning for the paperboy to bring him his copy of news and bottle of milk. They would rarely go on deliveries during such bad weather, too. The rain sounded so hostile, didn't they notice?
Len tossed his towel to the couch and pulled an umbrella from the rack. He pushed the door open and stood on the veranda; he was about to open the umbrella but he paused, eyes widening as he watched a boy to jump down from the fences. He was around twelve or thirteen, Len couldn't tell, wearing a gray hoodie and black pants. The boy was soaked to the bones, and he seemed unaware of Len's presence on the veranda. So this was the culprit, eh?
Len didn't do anything. He remained standing there, wanting to surprise the boy. The blond watched him to move around his garden. It seemed like he was looking for something. It might be the roses, Len thought, because the place where the boy was checking was where the roses were placed.
The boy's shoulders sagged as he scratched his head, pushing the hood of his jacket off from his head. Teal hair came into view, such hair color made him fairer. Somehow it have an illusion that he was glowing under the grey skies.
"Ah, my bad. Where are the white roses?" he muttered, turning around to look somewhere else. His green eyes brightened up when he spotted the plant sheltered on the veranda, so his legs quickly brought him to a dash...that was until he noticed a tall blond figure standing a meter from the flowers.
"No shit, Sherlock." The boy stopped on his tracks like a movie paused in a sudden. He was now facing the owner. "Hey," he gave an awkward smile, not knowing how to get out of this mess since he was basically trespassing. "Uhm, I was lost so…ugh -"
"You were lost because of the rain so you decided to barge in my lot," Len asked, feigning concern.
"So you climbed up my fence?" he added. The boy nodded at him. "Wow, what are you? A cat? Come here, what's your name? Are you here to steal my roses?"
The boy looked conflicted as he glanced up in the sky, taking in a deep breath as he thought of how to clarify things. "Oh, dear sister. How did I get in here?" he muttered, eyes narrowing at the murky skies.
"You know that you're barging in my property, don't you? I can call the police and tell them about that. I'm not sure what are they going to sanction you for stealing flowers. Do you always come here to get my roses?" Len asked.
The boy shook his head, water dripping from his wet fringe. Yes, he was in this blond's house; but no, he wasn't always stealing flowers. "I don't steal flowers as a hobby, mister. Just letting you know."
Len snorted. "What are you doing that for?"
"Someone's stupidly in love with white roses," he answered, pulling up his wet hood as though itcould shield him from the rain. He was already soaked, anyhow. "I just take them upon her requests."
"You must like that girl to do this occasionally," Len's eyes narrowed as he watched the boy to fidget. The wind had gotten nippy, and it was noticeable that the boy shivered. "What's your name?"
"Mikuo, sir."
"How old are you?" Len added. He crossed his arm as he leaned againt the post on the veranda.
"Thirteen," answered Mikuo, shifting weights on his feet. "Please don't bring me to the police. I will pay the flowers I've taken."
"How'd you do that? You're underage." Len saw him shrug. "All right. I'd let this pass. If you want a flower, tell me. I'm taking care of those flowers for so long before they bloom. I hope you understand what I feel when someone just takes them away."
Mikuo nodded, feeling like a club was pulled out of his chest. It was a relief that he wouldn't be reported to the police.
"But you need to make sure that this girl receiving my flowers is beautiful enough. Where is she?" Len asked, a small smile lighting up his face. He found it cute for a boy of this age to make an effort finding a rose. It was a sweet act,yes. Len didn't do the same when he was twelve - well, at least not for something as shallow as infatuation.
"Oh, she's hardly pretty," the boy commented. He smiled as he looked down on the ground, finding it the most interesting thing in a sudden. "She's the most beautiful face and soul you'll ever meet."
"That's promising. Your girlfriend?"
Mikuo winced, looking up to meet Len's blue gaze. His forest green eyes darted to the rose tree. "Can I have one rose, sir? If you want, you can come with me to visit house is really close."
"On this weather?" Len hesitated, but when he realised that he would do nothing on a rainy day, he agreed. "All right, let me get my coat first."
"Why the fuck are we here?" Len thought as he followed the boy through still, cold and haunting graveyard. He still wandered how he ended up with his. Just when Len thought this boy was pure and fun… Mikuo brought him to a place where all dead were laid.
In the middle of a thunderstorm.
Really. What the fuck is happening.
"Here," Mikuo suddenly stopped in front a tombstone with a cross situated at the top of it. The boy brought down the white rose Len had given him on the tomb, next to the three roses he stole yesterday. There were dead flowers next to it. Then, he brought out his wallet and pulled out a picture. He handed it to Len and beamed.
"She's my sister. She passed away three weeks ago due to a terminal illness. She always talked about the white roses a blond guy was tending in the neighborhood, and she wanted to see them bloom. She always requested to see them, so I stole some. Sorry about that."
Len looked at the picture with sadness in his eyes, but he agreed with the boy. She was the loveliest face and soul he had seen so far.
A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. I'm in Vietnam right now for my internship, so I'm busy. I hope you all have lovely holidays. (I've been wanting to write something for vocaloid or CG but, meh.) *WHO ELSE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT TO RC? AAAA. I'm crazy 'bout that fic.