Disclaimer-i really don't know who this is talking about, so you can make up your own pairing


Story by StormDancer

It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.

She looked down at the roses that had been placed in front of her door. Reaching down to pick up the three roses, one blush pink, one fiery red, and one deathly white, a note was revealed from underneath the bouquet. She retrieved it from its place, and read it quickly.

You know what the roses mean. Tell me what I need to know.

It was unsigned, but she knew who had sent it. Only one person she knew had read enough to know what the roses meant, and would ask her a question like that. She sat at her desk, placing the roses in front of her as she fixed her dress for the dance.

Which rose to wear? She had thought she knew her feelings and his, but this was making her truly decide. The pink rose of love hopeful? The red rose of passion? Or the white rose of love dead and forgotten. A knock was heard at the door.

"I'm coming!" she yelled to whoever was outside of it, but she knew who it was. He had his own special way of knocking, his own special way of doing things. She finished getting ready, and rushed to open the door. He was standing there, more flowers held in front of him. His eyes strayed to her dress collar, searching for a flower, than he looked up to meet her eyes. She took his arm, and they walked down the hall.

The white rose was left alone on the desk.