Flowers Mean Forgiveness
Request: Punk!EnglandxReader (Romance, hurt/comfort)
Written for: Umbrelink
I can't believe this!" You yelled in frustration, throwing the bundle of flowers (red and white tulips) merciless on the ground. "How can he even dare to think that would make everything alright?"
Once again, this particular evening, you felt your eyes water up. This time, though, it wasn't out of sadness, but more out of anger. How can he even try something like this? Flowers, out of all things? You stood above that way too cliché sorry of his. He could try to be all gentleman, if he just wanted to, but you wouldn't fall for that. After all these years, you realized, you never knew what kind of person Arthur Kirkland was. Now you do; and, well, after four years of loving him and putting up with everything he did, this was just too much. You had boundaries. And he should know. But seemingly he didn't. After four years.
You surely did have your weaknesses and such; and yes, Arthur did put up with them. But Arthur; he had so many of them. He didn't have them when you first got together.
You still remembered how the both of you met four years ago. Accidently, the shy Brit had spilt all of his green tea on your clothing. Obviously, that quite hurt and he said so often sorry, it must've been a new world record. He insisted on paying for the damage he had caused, though you assured him more than once that everything was perfectly alright.
You could still clearly see his emerald green eyes, shyly averting themselves as you met his gaze. You could still smell the faint minty smell of his hair, messy and untamed, with its' beautiful dirty blonde colour. His whole attitude, as he stood tall and proudly, yet was so lean and slender. You could still picture how he opened every door for you and would do anything to make you feel good.
Obviously, he had been quite different, and that was what made you agree to another meeting (or, as you would call it with a little grin, 'date') with the charming yet cute Englishman.
After a few months, you started dating. And my; you'd never been so happy before. He was considerate, always listened to you, and he treated you like a princess. To him, you were as precious as a china doll. That first year; it was heaven, to say the least. It was such a wonderful year that sometimes you wondered whether it had been a dream.
The second year was good, too. There were a few things about Arthur that were off and that you never noticed before. For example, he began to drink quite often, and sometimes a bit too much. But, you guessed, one gets to know some more or less bad things about the other, too. You weren't perfect yourself, so why demand that from Arthur? After all, he never harmed others when he was drunk. Actually, he was quite funny when drunk. Whining and slurring and stuff.
And you didn't even say a word about his new tattoo. The one that covered his left shoulder blade. It was an e-guitar. You supposed it was alright. After all, he played the guitar, he liked rock music lately and he did tell you that he wanted a tattoo. It wasn't even that large. Just very colourful. And the piercings in under lip and eyebrow weren't even that unattractive.
In the third year, things were
not so fine, at all.
Not just did he go drinking with his new friends more often, he also played in a band. That itself wasn't even bad; it was somewhat cool. And the music they made punkwasn't that bad either. It was just the fact that he came home late, smelling like perfume and alcohol and smoke. As you confronted him, he'd tell you that it was the air in the clubs. Now, you couldn't argue with that. But when you caught him smoking, you were furious. After all, he could have told you instead of lying. You never confronted him about the women's perfume, though. Something told you that you did not want to know. You also tried to trust him. As far as that was still possible. Without real evidence, you wouldn't tell him that you suspected that he cheated on you.
And now. The fourth year. It was plainly horrid.
He stopped being the little gentleman you fell in love with. Now, you could accept that, as people simply change over the years. And he stopped being shy. That was okay, too. Maybe that was even a bit of a progress. But he grew to be a total pervert, touching you in inappropriate ways at times that didn't even allow him to do so. He even ignored you when you denied him physical contact whatsoever. These sweet kisses of love were nothing more than fierce kisses of passion. (Now, that wasn't necessary a bad thing, but at times, it would have been nice to get the feeling to be properly loved and not just be used
) Worst of all, he spent almost all of his time with his band, getting drunk, smoking and if your suspicion was right doing drugs. You tried to talk to him, but you lacked the actual fierceness to make him listen.
However, he managed to make you fierce enou8gh to confront him, dump him and hate him; he came home smelling like alcohol and smoke, his hair even more messy than usual, his lips swollen and red and his clothing (it grew really punk-ish over the years) thoroughly dishevelled. On the side of his throat, he had a crimson red love bite that nearly taunted you for trusting him.
Obviously, you broke up soon after, leaving him stunned. Now, how could his little innocent and -- most of all trusting flower leave him? You answered coolly with the truth; that he was a bastard and that, over the years, the both of you just drifted apart. You told him never to show up again and to leave you alone; there'd be no second chance and he better not hope for it. You didn't suspect he'd even try. But, alas, he did.
He surprised you, a lot. You weren't sure whether this surprise was positive or negative. He tried his best to get you back. Showed up randomly in front of your door, leaving a bouquet of flowers. Left little sweet notices at your door or car. And, most important, he never called or faced you, so he even tried to give you the time you desperately needed. Though you were determined to forget about him, it grew harder. He realized his mistake, obviously. But could you simply forgive him? That was a completely different story, after all.
You tried dating other guys, but
None of them resembled Arthur and he sadly was what you desired. It wasn't even gentleman Arthur, you had to realize. It was Arthur in general. You didn't care about his looks, attitude or friends. Just his behaviour towards you made you hate the Arthur he'd become after four years. And now, now he tried so hard. It might be, you thought quietly to yourself, that he deserves a second chance
It wasn't long after, when a short little notice surprised you. Instead of the usual lyrics, quotes or poems Arthur sent you, there was a simple date, a place and a 'Please, give me one last chance' on it. It was without a doubt Arthur, as it was clearly his writing.
Should you go?
You weren't sure but
He did try and he was so awkwardly sweet doing so. But the place and the time made you shiver a bit. 11PM; it didn't sound like a good time to go out to meet a person. Especially if this person wanted you at the Laika the infamous punk club in the neighbourhood. After you looked it up, though, you decided to give it a try. Arthur's band had a gig; seemingly that is why he invited you there.
You tried your best to pick clothes that wouldn't make you stand out too bad. Your shirt was plainly black, your leather jacket too. You had a pair of trousers on, yet again black. Your shoes were pretty colourful, though, and your accessories matched with that. You left your hair untouched after the usual routine of combing it. Like that, you were pretty plainly dressed but you liked it. At least you looked decent enough for a club like that.
Now, you also wanted a decent look because of Arthur. You didn't look like total crap but you weren't a sex bomb either. Nobody would recognise you too fast not even Arthur. If he was still sober enough to know what you look like, that is.
You decided that tonight you won't let your guard down. What if this was only temporarily again? This sweet behaviour? Just to get you in bed, perhaps? No, you'd be careful. This just won't happen, ever.
Taking a seat close to the bar, you ordered a drink. You didn't feel quite like dancing, as the question what Arthur's plan exactly was just wouldn't let you go and you needed to think this through. Who knew how much time you still had? Probably not too much.
It was about half an hour later, and in only four minutes it would be midnight. You decided that you'd leave by then if he didn't show up. Or did something. Whatever. You gave him that chance and you felt like a fool for doing so. With one big gulp, you emptied the water you had ordered after your drink (no need to get drunk, after all) and stood up. A quick look at your watch told you that there were still three and a half minutes left. Your gaze wandered around again, looking for messy blond hair, but not finding it. A sigh of resignation left your lips as you slowly pushed your way through the crowd to get to the exit. That was, when a very familiar voice cut through the air, silencing the whole room. You turned and indeed at the microphone on the stage stood Arthur, his e-guitar firmly in his hands. The crowd cheered and clapped for him; seemingly, he'd been here before and just never told you.
"Good evening, everyone," He announced through the microphone. "Today's song is for a very special person. It's for [___Name___]. I knew I messed it up bad. But I can change; for you. Please, just this one last chance, love?" He locked his eyes with you. They shone brightly no signs for drugs or alcohol to be found. His hair was a mess but he did try to tame it. His clothing did not match the club atmosphere at all he wore a dark black suit. You noted that this was exactly the suit that he wore to your date almost four years ago, when you first met and he headed for some kind of meeting. You were taken back. Even his piercings were gone. Hadn't it been for the guitar, the micro and the local, you'd have thought that this was indeed the Arthur you fell in love with. "This song is obviously a bit modified by us. I still hope you like it
That's when they began to play and Arthur sang. And damn; did he sang good. You never heard him before seeing how you hadn't been on these gigs and concerts yet. But this was plainly amazing.
It wasn't the voice, though, that did it. It was the text; though the song was definitely punked up, it sounded quite romantically.
"Flowers mean forgiveness, I heard a poet say,
When you need forgiveness, you give her a bouquet,
Flowers mean forgiveness, my darling, here I stand,
Asking your forgiveness, with flowers in my hand.
As sure as I was wrong when I made you cry,
I know that you'd be wrong if you say goodbye.
Take these lovely flowers, or they'll be lonely too.
Flowers mean forgiveness, forgive me, say you do."
During the song, Arthur had put away his guitar, leaving the guy who usually played the rhythm guitar with Arthur's actual part. Only the micro remained in his hand as he slowly came towards you, a gentle smile on his face whenever the song had a short break. You noticed the flowers in his right hand and blushed. These were once again red and white tulips. He carefully gave it to you as the song ended, the micro carelessly thrown away but soon enough caught by one of the others. One single flower was left in his hand; he tucked it behind your ear as you still looked stunned at the tulip bouquet in your hands. It was a single white rose in full bloom, thornless. You quizzically looked at him, though you could feel the blush rising in your cheeks.
"[___Name___], I speak flower, you know," He remarked. You knew that much as he told you once how the Victorian language of flowers interested him. In your first year, he'd often sent you flowers and later explained what they mean. You forgot most of it, though, as he didn't do that the three years after that. "White tulips. They mean, 'Please forgive me'. At the same time, they mean 'Let's take a chance," He gently stroked your face with the tips of his fingers. "Red tulips. They mean 'Believe me', but they are also a declaration of love."
You opened your mouth, but closed it immediately. What could you say about this? He so suddenly was Arthur again; the one you fell for. Why?
As if you asked that loud, he carefully hugged you, making sure to give you the freedom of drawing back at every time. "Because when you left me I realized just how much I love you. I did some stupid things for sure, but I'll try my best never to smoke again, never to do anything illegal again. Though about the drinking
Mh, no promises there." He lightly laughed, trying to loosen the mood a bit. He probably felt how you didn't feel too comfortable, yet. As you didn't laugh along, though, he stopped immediately.
"You cheated on me." You stated in anger. You couldn't care less about the people who were staring at the scene you both made.
"Iwhat?" He asked in disbelieve.
"Arthur, I know what a love bite is when I see it, I am not dumb!" You said, voice level raising. He flinched and fiercely shook his head.
"I would never do so, [___Name___]! The girl practically threw herself at me, trying to 'seduce' me, without success, by the way. She made me smell really bad, too. She was so drunk it wasn't even funny anymore."
You grew silent and stared at the ground in deep thought. So, that was it?
As you next met his eyes, you saw a loving little smile on his features.
"The rose," You suddenly said, almost randomly. "What does it mean?"
"It's thornless. That means, love at first sight. It's a single one in full bloom meaning, I love you still. And the white colour means Eternal Love. Listen. I know things have been difficult for us lately; but," He knelt down in front of you and took your right hand the hand that wasn't holding the bouquet and placed a small kiss on your knuckles. "Will you please forgive me, as I know plead you for your forgiveness?"
With a crimson blush on your face, you nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes I will."
Arthur suddenly grinned that trademark grin he only gave to you. He embraced ha, placing small kisses all over your face; on your eyebrows, on your chin, on the tip of your nose. And last but not least he placed a kiss on your mouth. It was first a small, innocent kiss. It grew more heated, though, and you enjoyed every second of it. It had been long so, so long; too long since he kissed you like that. It felt great and you felt ecstatic.
Only when you parted and hear the crowd cheer, you remembered that you weren't in private. With an uncomfortable cough, you parted. "Arthur. If you're ever planning on seriously asking me a probably the will-question again, then don't do it in public."
"I won't." He laughed, a mix of joy and relief before a cheeky grin came to his face. "Let's head out for a walk?"
You simply nodded. As he opened the door for you and hold it open, you were certainly sure that no matter what he and his friends were interested in he'd remain your gentleman. Even if, in this case, he was more of a Punk gentleman.