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Post by kohaku lebara on Jan 18, 2013 9:35:54 GMT -5
He had never thought of any roses other than red until he had met that woman. The one who he married. Of course, it was not his own choice. He had been pressured into the situation, but it was not something he talked to about others. Many assumed they had merely fallen in love and married too early - which wasn't wrong. Despite the marriage being planned by others, he loved her every moment he was beside her. They fell in love fast and hard. Every moment was like the 'honeymoon' stage. Full of smiles, shy advances, awkward flirts and everything usually ended in laughter. They were young, foolish, and wanted to spend their lives hand in hand. She loved blue roses. He learned to dye seeds to grow them for her. He made sure there was a section of their small garden, just for growing the beautiful blue petals. She loved them so greatly, handled them as gently as she did Kohaku during the times in which they embraced. She loved each flower, watered and cooed for them. Her attachment was almost strange, but the man could not say much. Because the woman was just as kind to her dear husband. She knew his attachment to books and in their home, they filled an entire personal library. Each book was cared for gently, read over many times. On those rainy nights, Kohaku loved to drape an over the back of the couch and the other around the waist of his lover cuddled into his lap, back pressed to his chest while she read the pages out to the man, who more often than not was nuzzling at her hair. He loved her hair. It was so soft and always smelled sweet, like cinnamon apples. He still used that shampoo. Mink liked the smell. He always clung to both of them and nuzzled his small face into the locks and would squeal how sweet it was. Such a good child. Sitting on the edge of the pier, Kohaku started down at the water. He had a handful of daisy stems in his hands, all stripped bare. Perfect white petals floating on the surface below as he stared down. His reflection was calm, mirroring the man's lack of shirt. It was neatly folded and put the side, exposing his skin to anyone whom was around. It also exposed old scars on his back, as well as a long tattoo dotted with dates. Dates that meant nothing to anyone but the one who carried a heart more covered with scars than one who rolled through a thrown bush. Perhaps that exaggeration. Perhaps it was spot on. He could barely see the petals, his glasses on the shirt. He stared at the blurred white spots, his thoughts lost in the past. He couldn't focus on work, on home. He could only think of the past. Thing of the way her hair smelt, the way she always kissed his nose in the morning. He thought of how Cho always rubbed his back when he returned from work and would whisper his name and touch his elbow when trying to gain his attention. Kohaku missed her. He missed the way she would greet him at the door with Mink in arms and call out to him, while the child reached out to his father eagerly, making gentle noises to grab at him. The man's head was lowered, his bangs in his face while he thought about her bright eyes, the way she would small so politely. He loved the way she spoke clear and bravely around others, though when it was just them, she was rough and playful. The serious and stoic side melted away into playful laughter while Kohaku would lift her into his arms and steal away all her kisses. He missed that woman. He missed her warmth. Her love. He missing coming home to her waiting, her voice, even the mere sight of her. Kohaku didn't know how much longer he could bear not seeing her. Each day was worse than the last. Each day he started to think less of her beautiful face and more of that day. Of the still, cold body. Of the blood that smeared across his hands as he brushed her hair. The way he shook as he screamed her name. The way his whole damn world crashed that day when they asked him to identify the body. "Fuck..".
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