A red rose is love
Pricking those who come too close
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Point of View: Virgil, First Person
Timeline: Present Day

"Heyy! S'up gurl!!!" I winced as the guy came up to me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. He probably meant for it to be playful but I couldn't help wincing at the force of it, which was probably a lot harder than he'd intended.

"Hey man," I forced a smile. "Nice to see you too, Remy."

Remy, or Sleep to his friends. Ironic, since he's out at concerts most nights and barely sleeps, if he gets any at all. As always, he was wearing his trademark sunglasses and black leather jacket, white t-shirt peeking out from underneath.

"Where have you been?" Remy asked, taking a sip of his traditional Starbucks iced coffee. "No one's heard anything from you in - like - months," he said, adjusting his tan, very used, messenger bag so it slid back to his side again.

"Just... been focused on work, man," I said, shoving one hand into my hoodie pocket, using the other to awkwardly rub the back of my neck self-consciously. "Bills aren't going to pay themselves."

Remy raised his eyebrows at me, choosing to ignore my lame excuse. "Heyyy, you know what?" Remy said, pointing his free hand at the sky, deep in thought. "There's a concert downtown tomorrow, 9 o'clock. You wanna hang?"

"Um, I don't think -"

"Oh come on, Anx!" Remy whined, using a nickname that only a... certain group of people knew about. "Take a break! Just a couple of us guys, some dancing, finding a couple cute boys, maybe a couple drinks...... what do ya say?" Remy pushed, taking another sip of his coffee, swirling the ice around with the straw.

I shifted, trying to look like I was at least trying to consider it. "Um, not this time, Rem, sorry," I added. "But maybe you'd like to hang out some other time? Just, uh, you and me? We could... go grab coffee or... something? Maybe on Sunday?" I winced afterwards, realizing how much it sounded like I was asking him on a date. But Remy was like a brother to me, I just wanna look out for him... keep him away from... them.

"I have plans on Sunday," Remy said curtly, taking another sip. "Gang's gonna - heyy," Remy cut off abruptly, waving a finger in my face accusingly - yanking up his sunglasses for once, curiously tilting his head. "Did something happen between you and -"

"Uh, I'm sorry but I have to go," I said, slowly backing away, quickly cutting him off. "But - uh - if your schedule clears up, why don't you send me a text or... something?"

"Why don't you come hang out with us?! You too cool to be seen with us nowadays? We're basically your family! Don't be a stranger, gurl!" Remy shouted in his usual sassy fashion as I walked away, continuing down the sidewalk.

"No promises," I muttered under my breath, twisting a little to give him a quick wave before sliding my headphones back over my ears.
I sighed, silently hating myself as I walked away, leaving Remy behind.

Oh Remy, you don't have a clue what you've gotten yourself into, do you?
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The coffee shop, Capulus, was a little, wooden shop dead in the center of town, which happened to blend in with all the other stores and shops that littered the street. But being around all these other stores was good for business, I guess. It was cozy, warm, and the people were too nice and happy all the time.

It was pretty much the last place anyone expected me to be.

Which was kinda what I was looking for when I randomly stumbled across this place a couple months or so ago.

I slipped inside the shop, wincing slightly as the tiny golden bell above the door gave an annoyingly loud clang to announce my arrival. However, no one paid me any attention as I jumped in the back of the line.

I double-checked my headphones, making sure they were securely - and visibly - over my ears; purposely to discourage anyone from coming and trying to talk to me. But, thankfully, it seemed like everyone was busy with the business of their own lives to pay me any mind.

"How can I help you?" the tiny brunette barista asked once I reached the counter. Goodness could she talk any quieter? I could barely hear her over the loud bustle of the shop.

"Iced Coffee," I basically grunted out, certain that she already knew my order and only asked out of confirmation. Surely she recognized me on sight - same purple patched hoodie, black skinny jeans, dark purple combat boots that I wore every time I came here.

Which was more and more lately, not wanting to go back home to an empty apartment and also not wanting to roam the streets either and risk running into -

The barista gave me my total, handing me back thirty cents. I merely shoved it in my wallet (which was already filled of change because I am actually the definition of an anxious mess).
Hence why the gang gave me the nickname 'Anxiety'.

After getting my drink, I took a seat at one of the tables - in fact, the only empty inside table (a few tables were set up just outside the shop as well, all of which were currently taken at the moment). The little empty square of dead tree was over by the large, slightly tinted windows, at the front left corner.

The shop was full of people rushing in and out to grab a cup of liquid energy before leaving for work. Feeling uncharacteristically reckless, I yanked down my headphones, enjoying the sounds of a busy morning and watching people passing by.

"Pardon, I hate to be a bother, but might I sit here?" a voice from my right interrupted my thoughts, startling me slightly.

I twisted around to see a man who... who quite frankly had seen better days.
He had a tan leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder - not unlike Remy's actually - with papers seemingly shoved in recklessly. The man was wearing a dark brown leather jacket with gold zippers with a bright red t-shirt underneath. Black jeans followed by dark red and gold Adidas sneakers. He looked frazzled - eyes pleading and wide and his breath coming out in short breathy puffs, as if he had run here or something.

I opened my mouth to refuse, but there really was no other place to sit. I sighed, already feeling myself caving. Guess I won't be able to spend my day off here.

"I don't talk," I informed him. "But feel free," I said, waving my hand lazily at the seat across from me.

"Oh my stars, thank you so much," the man said gratefully, setting his bag on the table, frantically searching in the outside pockets. "I have a major deadline due this afternoon - well, one of several incoming deadlines, really - and I simply haven't the time to stop back home," he chatted, frowning as he continued going through his pockets, clearly not able to find whatever he was looking for.

After pausing for a moment, the man started hastily searching his jacket and Jean pockets, plopping down a set of keys, his phone, two pens, a notepad, some change, and a gum wrapper on the table. "Oh, come on," the man muttered, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

Several pockets, a sigh of frustration, and countless seconds of wasted time later, the man searched his bag once more before triumphantly pulling out... his wallet.

"Would you mind watching my things for a short moment?"

I didn't bother to respond verbally, only giving the man a curt nod. He shot me a quick grateful smile as he left to get in line, which was significantly shorter than when I got here.

... Well he was awfully trusting.

I guess I look suspicious enough for the both of us.

I turned back to the window, taking another swig of my Iced Coffee (gosh darnit Remy...).

It seemed like only a couple seconds had passed before the man returned, drink and a bag of snickerdoodles in hand. "Hot chocolate and snickerdoodle cookies - good for the soul," the man winked.

I couldn't help the unintentional snort that slipped out. "You came to a coffee shop and got hot chocolate? In the middle of summer?"

"The smell of coffee helps me think," the man explained as he reached into his messenger bag, pulling out a laptop. "However, the taste is another matter entirely," the man shuddered at the thought, hastily taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

I raised my eyebrows at that, glancing pointedly at the Iced Coffee in my hands.

"Uh," the man stammered, cheeks glowing a light shade of pink. "Just a personal opinion..."

An amused smile slipped out before I could hide it and the man across the table smirked back in return.

"As for your second point - drinking hot chocolate in the summer," the man continued. "Call it a case of 'Christmas in July'."

"It's June," I deadpanned.

"Close enough," he said, taking a sip. "And besides Mr. It's-Too-Hot-For-Hot-Cocoa, you're wearing a hoodie so you don't have much room to argue."

I shrugged.

Awkward silence bounced between the two of us for a moment.

"Uh, apologies, um, I'm afraid I never caught your name," the man questioned, head tilting to the side curiously.

I didn't even bother to give him a response, merely raising my eyebrows again, making it clear that I had no intention on telling him.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself," the man said, flushing a bit in embarrassment. "I am called Roman - uh, I mean my name is Roman," he stuttered, flushing even further, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"English is not my first language," he added, and I finally noticed the faint trace of an accent in his voice.
I hesitantly shook it, not surprised by his firm grip. "What's your first language?"

"Spanish, actually," Roman answered. "I was born on a tiny island in the Caribbean called Los Roques. It's owned by Venezuela. I only learned a little English before I came here when I was nineteen," Roman cut himself off abruptly, suddenly growing self-conscious of himself. "Uh - what about you? What's your story?"

"What's my story?" I repeated stupidly.

"Yeah, your story," Roman said, taking another sip and opening his bag of snickerdoodles. "Everyone's got a story. What's yours?"

"Not a fairytale, that's for sure," I muttered half to myself, yanking my hood lower over my head and avoiding eye contact.

A moment of silence. "Ah, well your story's not finished yet, who knows?" Roman said, reaching into the cookie bag. "Anything is possible. Snickerdoodle?" he asked, holding the bag out to me.

"I prefer Oatmeal Raisin."

Roman actually started choking momentarily on his snickerdoodle, surprised. "Wh-Why?! Why Oatmeal Raisin?! Of all the cookies! They're just... just such... evil cookies."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "Evil... cookies?"

"They are!" Roman set his hot chocolate on the table, hands starting to wave dramatically. "Stupid cookies. They look like brilliant Chocolate Chip wonders... until you bite them - and BAM!" Roman exclaimed, making me jump. "The taste of betrayal and deceit at it's best," Roman finished passionately.

I couldn't help wincing slightly at his words. "Uh, don't you have a deadline or something?" I reminded him.

"Shoot!" Roman yelped, scrambling to collect himself, muttering under his breath - something about focusing and not getting distracted - before powering up his computer.

I twisted my head back towards the window. I had reached my quota of interaction for today.

Why couldn't I have just stayed home? Then I could've just made myself a cup of coffee, caught up on another conspiracy theory video, clean my room - no, wait not that one.

Say what you want, Anx. Like you could bear to sit in an empty apartment with nothing to distract you from the burden of your own thoughts.

The man pulled out several small notebooks, setting them next to his laptop. He flipped through them quickly before stopping at a seemingly random point. As Roman's laptop finished powering up, he reached back into his bag pulling out a pair of rose gold Beats headphones.

I couldn't help staring as his eyes fluttered shut, exhaling slow and relaxing. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension falling away almost instantly. When his eyes opened again, they were focused and he started typing instantly - the light, fast clicking letting me know that he was in his own little world now. Occasionally, he would glance at the notebooks but mostly, his eyes remained fixed on the computer in front of him.

I glanced back out the window, people-watching once again. There weren't many out now, most already at work.

Hmm, maybe I could stop by the office and catch up on some paperwork...

I turned back to Roman, who was still typing furiously. But he was frowning now and pausing more often.

I, being curious, decided to hang around even after I'd finished my Iced Coffee, to go up and buy some Oatmeal Raisin cookies (taking the barista a bit by surprise, but she covered it up with a smile - eyes quickly flickering over to Roman). I stared, silently wondering what he was working on.

I returned back to the table to see Roman sliding his headphones down to his collarbone with a tiny grunt of frustration, frowning at his computer screen. He sat back and pressed his fingers harshly against his temples, eyes glazed over. "Why is it never simple?" he muttered to himself, eyes fluttering shut, where I suddenly noticed the dark circles and bags under his eyes.
I mean, mine own dark circles were dark enough to make people think that I was wearing black eyeshadow, but this guy was giving even me some solid competition.

...

Did - did this guy just... fall asleep?

...

No, there's no way someone could fall asleep that fast. No, he's probably just thinking.

...

I leaned forward just a little bit, listening carefully. And just over the gentle chatter of the shop, I could hear the softest of snores. Actually it was less like a snore, and more like heavy breathing...

...

Oh my gosh, this dude really fell asleep that fast.

Feeling slightly guilty (and really hoping that he actually was asleep and that I wasn't completely wrong and about to ruin his concentration and train of thought) I reached over the table and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Roman let out a tiny whimper of protest, eyes still shut. "Five more minutes, Pat," he whined, loosely swatting my hand away - still not bothering to open his eyes.

I sighed. Maybe it was time to let panic kick in for a second.

"You just spilled your hot chocolate on your laptop," I lied.

Roman's eyes flew open, fear evident. His eyes dropped to his completely dry laptop. He looked back up at me, confused and looking a bit annoyed before it dawned on him.

"Oh my stars, did I fall asleep?" he gasped in shock, hand flying overdramatically over his heart.

"Uh-huh," I confirmed, leaning back and tilting my head to the side at his odd saying.

Who the heck says "Oh my stars?"

"Thank you, thank you so much," Roman said gratefully. "I had another project for work due this morning and I pulled an all-nighter in order to finish it in time," he explained, hands moving around a lot ashe talked. "I've been up for the past forty-eight hours straight."

I frowned. "Forty-eight?"

Roman nodded, eyes already looking like they wanted to close. "I watched my friends kid the other night - little thing, only a couple months old. But my stars, I was so stressed that I didn't catch a wink!"

He sighed, sinking into a slouch as he pouted, probably mourning the loss of sleep. Then, abruptly, his eyes lit up, an idea sparkling in them - the sunlight coming through the window making them momentarily flash gold.
"Do you like to read?"

"...Don't most people?"

Roman let out a short laugh. "You'd be surprised," he returned. "Would you mind looking at the project that I'm working on? Something is... it's just... wrong," Roman finished frowning, grabbing a snickerdoodle.

Roman spun the laptop around to face me. "Tell me what you think."

I switched my focus to the words on the screen.

The prince expertly twirled his sword, pointing it at the creature before him.

"You! Are you the creature that haunts the people of this land?!"

The creature, eying the prince's sword warily, snorted and turned away from the prince.

"I challenge you to a proper duel!" The prince chanted.

"You are not worthy to fight me," the creature bellowed. "Go now, foolish prince."

"Then perhaps I heard wrong!" The prince taunted. "I would've expected much better from the Dragon-Witch!"

"I'm sorry," I stopped reading, looking up at Roman. "What?"

"Ah, apologies, I should've caught you up to speed first," Roman apologized. "The prince hears about a creature terrorizing a nearby kingdom. As expected, he vows to vanquish the creature and travels by horseback to the kingdom. He talks to some of the villagers then goes off to fight the creature he now knows to be the dragon-witch!"

"And... what exactly... is a dragon-witch?"

"Why exactly what it sounds like! A dragon, with the magical abilities of a witch!"

"And how does the prince defeat the, uh, dragon-witch?"

"The prince stabs the beast in the spleen," Roman mimicked the movement with a nearby pen. "And the prince goes home a hero!" Roman grinned brightly at me.

"And what makes your prince different from all the princes in tons of other stories?"

Roman opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out as he suddenly struggled to string his words together. "I - I'm sorry?"

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "What makes your prince different from tons of other fantasy princes?" I rephrased, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Roman looked baffled. "... Dragon-witch?" he tried weakly.

"Yeah no, that is not going to work," I started. "You need to give your prince internal obstacles or at least a personality for crying out loud. I mean, you didn't even give your prince a name," I pointed out. "Or you could even try the story from the point of view of the dragon-witch."

Roman stared, looking wordlessly between the laptop and me. "Wow," he managed, stunned. "Are you a writer or something?"

"Veterinarian, actually."

"Oh, really?" Roman's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm much better with animals than people."

At that Roman laughed and I couldn't help the smile that slipped out as Roman spun his laptop back around to face him, the light sound of him tapping filling the silence between us.

The sun had dropped considerably since we'd arrived and now the sun was doing amazing things to his face, brown hair lighting up a soft gold. He... he looked... incredible.

He's probably not gay. Geez Anx, pull yourself together! Besides, there's no way you'd be ready for a relationship anyway, not after him, not after what he did to you, to your family -

"Wait a second," Roman suddenly gasped, staring at me. "No way!"

"Um... what?"

"Is your hair purple?!"

I glanced up and noticed that my bangs had fallen over my eyes. "Uh, yeah," I said, cautiously pulling my hood back, revealing my bright purple hair.

"Yas!" Roman snapped his fingers in star formation, grinning madly. "YAS BOI."

I couldn't help the small smile that escaped. Gosh, he reminded me so much of Remy, it was almost scary. "Uh, thanks."

"HIYA PRINCE!!"

"Gah!" I yelped, jumping up and out of my chair in surprise - immediately falling on the defense.

"Whoopsie! Sorry kiddo - didn't mean to scare ya!" The man apologized with a small giggle. "And I love your hair!"

I slowly calmed my breathing. "Um, thanks."

The man was wearing a light blue polo and a gray hoodie... which was tied together and hung over his shoulders... Were those cat paws on his sleeves? He smiled at me, eyes bright behind a pair of large black square glasses. He was holding a to-go tray, two cups of what was probably coffee.

"How's it going kiddo?" The man asked, addressing Roman.

"Brilliantly, thanks to this man," Roman gestured to me. "I think he just saved my story."

The man in blue shot me another big smile.

"Um," I shoved my hood back up over my head, before tucking my hands into my pockets. "It was nothing, really."
"Sure doesn't sound like nothing," The man in blue commented.

I flushed and hurriedly grabbed my now empty coffee cup and walked over to a nearby recycling bin. I glanced back to see Roman and the other man talking adamantly something. But instead of heading back towards the debate, I switched course and made my way towards the door.

That stupid bell rang on my way out but I hardly heard it, slipping on my headphones and yanking my hood further over my head.

I only made it a block or so before a hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped in surprise and spun around to see... Roman.

His cheeks were bright pink and he was a little out of breath, one hand on his side.

"Um... hey," I said lamely, sliding my headphones back off.

"You, uh, really saved me today," Roman said. "If I didn't fix my story by the end of the week, my editor was planning on dropping my story."

"Well, nothing is set in stone yet - besides, it's up to you to write it and -"

"Actually... I didn't just track you down to say thank you," Roman admitted sheepishly.

I tugged my sleeves anxiously over my hands "Um -"

Roman let out long exhale, running a hand through his hair. "I know this might sound weird," Roman started. "But you're hot and I'm gay, so would you happen to be free Friday night...?"

Oh my gosh he's gay.

"You're gay," I repeated, stunned.

What the actual crap is wrong with me?! A hot guy who is gay, actually thinks I'm hot, isn't a jerk, and just asked me out on - on a date Friday night and my first response is 'You're gay?'

"Yeah," Roman confirmed, suddenly looking uneasy. "Is... that a problem?"

"No, no, no! I - I, um, I'm - uh - gay too."

Smooooth, Virge. Smoooooooth.

His eyes lit up with surprise and happiness. "So... is that a yes?"

I immediately curled into myself. Gosh, I would love to say yes - it's been forever since I'd been on a date with a gorgeous dude - well, even just a date in general.

...

But... I wasn't ready and that wasn't fair to him.

"I - I'm sorry, I had a... really bad, uh, breakup before and I - I'm not ready to be in a relationship right now," I felt my cheeks heat up, surely bright red now.

Roman flushed at my words. "Then... just as friends? I'd really like to get to know you better."

Friends? With a dude this hot? Nah.

I shook my head, already backing away. "I'm sorry, but... I can't," I said, quickly spinning around and walking away, trying - and failing - to not let myself get consumed by years of mistakes, silently hoping that this wasn't another one to add to the list.

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And here it is, after so many months! New characters, new plot, and I'm much happier with it.
I hope you'll stick around! X3