Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Roses ❯ Part 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Sorry this part is so short, but I'll put up the next one soon. Thank you, Persephone, for adding your opinion to my two other loyal reviewers'. Hope you continue reading and enjoy the story.

^^^

By the time dinner was over it was pouring outside. Lena had also acquired three more roses. One had been left in the laundry room on top of her neatly-folded, clean clothes -- the ones that had mysteriously vanished from her room when she'd gone to retrieve them. One had been left beside her place at the table, right next to the Teriyaki Chicken piled over a plateful of steamed rice. The last had been placed by the sink, empty of the dirty dishes she was supposed to have cleaned like she did every night.

A loud crack of lightening that rattled the windows drew her gaze to pouring sheets of rain. She hated to ruin her gift-bearer's schedule by doing something moderately unpredictable, but she loved watching storms. With vague excuses to the rest of the household, she snuck out to the open garage . . . only to find one of the old folding chairs already set up just inside the carport, close enough to see everything, but far enough in to not get drenched. Her warmest jacket was folded over the back, and sure enough, a red rose was poking out of the front pocket.

He'd known she would come out to watch the rain. It was impossible, but he'd known. Grinning like an idiot, she wrapped the warm jacket around her and sat in the flexible net of plastic bands that made up the chair's seat.

There was no explanation that she'd ever been able to come up with that explained her fascination with lightening storms. Psychologists would probably claim it was because she needed to be reminded occasionally that not everything was under her control. The people in her clique at school would say it was because she loved risks. Neither of them knew what the hell they were talking about. She didn't know why she liked them, she just did. The bolts of light that stretched across the cloudy sky and turned the drops of rain to silver for the space of a second made her smile for no reason that she could ever explain.

This would have been the absolutely perfect time for her mystery man to appear and give her the last two roses in person, but he didn't. The storm slowed and the lightening became infrequent, and she went inside. It was late, but Ken and Omi were still up playing video games. Yohji was flirting on the phone with some unknown girl, and Aya was reading a thick novel on one of the recliners, one of his long legs drawn up beneath him and the other flung at an odd angle over one of the over-stuffed arms. She'd caught herself a couple of times admiring his flexibility. Guys as muscular as him usually couldn't perform a backwards flip in midair while turning and kicking out with a booted heel to take down the last opponent.

Tired, she decided to spend the last thirty minutes before midnight reading in her room.

She was a little disappointed at the sight she found upstairs. Fresh sheets had been put on her bed, and the covers were turned down oh-so-invitingly with the eleventh rose adding the perfect touch to the black satin pillow cases. The drop of scarlet in the silky material was the perfect parting gift, but she was one flower short of the traditional dozen. Had her jaunt out to the garage ruined a part of her birthday present?

Frowning, she tried to remind herself that she'd never had a birthday as nice and relaxing as the one she'd just experienced. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make her happy, and she was beyond grateful, but Omi's suggestion that her rose-bearer would show himself at the end of the night had gotten her hopes up. It looked as if she wouldn't get to find out who he was after all, and she'd have to be happy with the eleven red roses, which she was currently putting in the vase she'd brought up with her to set on her dresser.

Her pajamas were neatly folded for her on the end of the bed, and she slipped them on without really thinking about it. Her eyes traced over the small typing in her book, but she knew she'd end up rereading it all the next day. Her birthday, which had been so wonderful, was coming to a rather anticlimactic ending that didn't fit.

Finally, a half an hour before midnight, she gave up on her book and turned out the lights. Maybe if she slept through the rest of her birthday she wouldn't feel so depressed when the last rose didn't come.

^^^

I feel a sudden evil urge coming on. What if I were to accidentally //forget// to put up the next part on Thursday like I was originally planning? Hmmm . . . .

TBC . . . .