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Just as you always expected every Monday, you’d return to your room in the ministry to find a single yellow rose sitting on top of your desk with a note written on a small piece of paper.
‘Have a good week, amico mio!
From: Copia’
A small smiley face is doodled next to the message.
This all started a few months ago…
You had been walking through the garden alone one day. You needed to clear your mind. The week had only begun, yet you’d already felt swamped with work. Paperwork is not good for your posture, or your eyes, or your hands, or… any part of you, really. Fresh air and sunshine was just what you needed, and the garden was beginning to bloom beautifully. The smell of a well loved garden, there’s nothing better. Unless you have allergies.
Just then, you heard a sneeze from somewhere in the garden. It startled you, and it made you jump a bit.
“Oh,” the voice said, sounding annoyed, “curse these allergies. I didn't mean to startle you.”
You couldn't find who was speaking. You had begun to think that the paperwork took more of a toll on you than you’d initially thought, until you were relieved to spot Papa rising behind a bush.
You haven't spoken to him much, even when he was still a Cardinal. You just hadn't had the time to get to know him.
“It’s okay, Papa,” you replied “though, I’m not sure if I should say ‘bless you’ or not.”
Your half-joke made Papa chuckle as he began to walk towards you.
“It’s the thought that counts,” he replied, the moment he reached your side. “Grazie, amico.”
You were standing together side by side, not saying anything, only looking around at the garden surrounding the both of you. Eventually, Papa looked at you, and motioned for you to follow him with the slight nod of his head. Now, instead of standing in silence, you two were walking together in the same oddly comforting silence as before.
Part of you always wished that you got to know Papa before he became Papa. You’d always thought he was a handsome and charming man, whom you would admire from afar whenever you were in the same room together. And now, that quiet Cardinal, whom you were too nervous to really talk to, had become Papa. Someone as quiet and reserved and as charmingly awkward as him becoming Papa was something that you never thought would happen. The universe, and Copia for that matter, proved you wrong.
“So,” you spoke, making Papa dart his head towards you, “what were you doing behind that bush, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Papa chuckled nervously, and began rubbing his hands.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I was actually just trying to get away from Sister Imperator,” he said. “I have barely had a moment to myself so I just had to get away. When I heard someone come in, I thought that it was her. But, I am glad that it was only you.”
You both softly chuckled.
“But uh,” Papa said, “but what are you doing out here?”
“Oh! Uh, just about the same reason that you came out here,” you told him, “doing paperwork was making me just about lose it. I needed some air.”
Papa nodded at you.
“Well, let us walk together, sì?”
Papa held out his arm for you to loop your own through, and you did. As you walked together, neither of you really spoke. The silence was comfortable, yet nerve-wracking at the same time. Soon, you came across a bush of yellow roses.
“I wouldn’t have expected such colorful flowers to be growing in a place like this,” you said, “devil worshipers with the garden of a grandmother.”
“Primo loves to garden all kinds of plants,” Papa said, “I’m sure he got tired of the same old plants he would always grow here. Secondo gave him an earful when he spotted the pink tulips blooming but I know he secretly likes them.”
“Do you have a favorite flower, Papa?” you asked.
You could see him thinking for a moment.
“I’d say that I’m quite fond of red carnations,” he answered, “their color is so striking. What about you? Do you have a favorite?”
Now it was your turn to think. What was your favorite flower?
Your mind wanders back a few years. You had returned from a long day of working in the ministry. You were tired from the physical labor of cleaning all day. When you had entered your quarters, there on your desk was a single lavender rose in a thin glass vase. There was no note left with it. You never learned where or who that rose came from, but it meant a lot to you regardless.
“Roses.” you answered simply.
“Roses are very beautiful,” Papa added, “do you have a favorite color of rose?”
“Purple. Er, lavender, I suppose,” you said, “a few years ago, I got a purple rose but have no idea who it was from. It was beautiful though.”
“I’d bet it was,” he replied.
Shortly after, the both of you came across a bush of bright yellow roses. From the corner of your eye, you saw Papa shoot you a look. He soon stopped you and unlooped his arm from yours. He rolled his sleeves up slightly and reached his hands into the bush.
“Oh! Papa, be careful,” you said, “the thorns!”
“Do not worry, amico mio,” he said, trying to get a rose with only his hands, “it will take more than a little thorn to take me d- OW!”
Papa quickly retracted his arms from the bush, and a small cut from the thorn was bleeding crimson. Papa looked at you and smiled. He cleared his throat as he looked around, spotting a basket with garden cutters sitting inside of it.
“There they are,” he said, “I was looking for these the whole time. Obviously.”
He grunted as he bent down to grab the tool and returned to the bush. He carefully grabbed a rose, and looked for a safe spot to hold it from. Despite his leather gloves, he looked nervous about touching the flower. He slowly brought the cutters to the stem of the rose and snipped it at a decent length. He began to hand the rose over to you, before he remembered to trim the thorns for you.
“There you go,” he said as he held out the rose for you to take, “a beautiful yellow rose just for you and safe to touch.”
You take the rose from him and hold it up to your nose, the smell is soft and fresh. It reminds you of late spring and early summer afternoons.
“Thank you, Papa,” you smile at him, blushing slightly.
“It is my pleasure,” he said, “do you know what yellow roses mean?”
You shook your head. Papa held out his arm for you to take once again and he began to explain while you walked.
“Yellow roses mean friendship, amico mio,” he said, “I wanted to give it to you because I now know you love roses, and this is the beginning of a new and blooming friendship!”
You laughed softly at his little joke, and nudged into his side a bit.
“Thank you again,” you said, “a friendship with you sounds nice, Papa.”
“Well if we are friends,” Papa said, “you can just call me Copia, at least whenever Sister Imperator or Mr. Saltarian isn’t around.”
“‘Isn’t around’ for what ?” a voice suddenly said.
Both you and Copia jumped and found Sister Imperator watching the both of you from the other side of a short hedge.
“Oh! H-hello Sister! What brings you out here?” Papa asked nervously.
“I should be asking you the same thing. I went to check on your progress with your work and you weren’t there,” Sister said, “if I’m not mistaken, you still have a lot of work to do. And the same goes for you, Y/N.”
In that moment, both you and Copia looked like two children who got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, which you were, you just weren’t children.
“I expect both of you to be back to work in the next five minutes. And you,” Sister said, looking directly at you, “I expect you to write up an apology letter to Primo for defacing his garden. Understood?”
Before you could respond, Copia spoke up.
“Sister, it was actually me who cut that rose,” he said, “do not put the blame on them, I was the one who decided to give it to them.”
Sister Imperator nodded with a scowl on her face. She reprimanded Copia and told him to write the apology. This sadly included the rose being confiscated. After Sister left with the rose, it was once again only Copia and yourself in the garden. Both of you started walking back into the ministry together.
“I’m sorry about that,” Copia began, “I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”
“It’s okay,” you said, “it was my own doing. I should have just stayed doing my work, then neither of us would have gotten reprimanded.”
“No, amico mio,” Copia said, turning to look at you, “if you are overworking yourself then you deserve to take a break. If you ever feel like you need a change of scenery, you can come see me in my office. Just make sure to bring your work with you.”
“Thank you, Copia,” you said with a smile.
Copia put his hand on your shoulder for a moment before you parted ways.
A week later, you found a yellow rose sitting on your desk with a note.
‘Here’s that rose I owed you.
Your friend: Copia’
Ever since then, every week you’d get a yellow rose on your desk. Even when he was on tour, he found a way. Often, we would designate a Ghoul to write the note and leave the rose on your desk. One time you had thought he had forgotten, but late one night, a knock on your door took your attention away from your work. Upon opening your door, you were greeted with the sight of an out-of-breath Ghoul. He was in his pajamas and he had mud on his hands and knees. He silently held out to you a poorly clipped yellow rose that was still wet from the rain, and a messily scribbled note with dirty fingerprints on it.
‘Sorry for the delay amigo amico mio! The Ghouls must like to sleep a lot. Have a wonderful week!
From: Copia
Courtesy of: A Nameless Ghoul’
You gave the Ghoul a sorry look, and quietly thanked him.
You and Copia spoke outside of the roses. You often took up his offer of sharing a space. You joked with each other and he let you feed his rats when it was their feeding time. He would even help you with your work if he finished before you, and though you offered to help him whenever you finished work before him, he refused. It was his ‘important Papa work’ , after all.
Even outside of the work you both did, he would even invite you to have tea or coffee with him, to play his Nintendo with him, or to even just talk whenever neither of you could sleep. There were even rare times where he would call you into his office at night just to give you the yellow rose instead of leaving it on your desk, though that has only happened twice.
The weekly yellow rose was no different from the others you received every week, but every rose felt just as special as the first. You added the rose to the vase containing the others. You looked at the beautiful bundle of roses that had accumulated from your friendship, and you smiled.
You soon got ready to go to sleep, ready to face the week ahead of you.
When you woke up, the days that followed went the same as they always do. Work, work, and more work. Copia isn’t on tour right now, so you take as many chances as you can to work in his office with him, like you often did. However, you started noticing that Copia seemed to be reading more gardening books. Maybe the flowers just got him interested in tending to the garden? It would be a nice hobby for him, he seems nervous lately but whenever you’d ask him about it, he just insists it’s just ‘normal Papa nerves’ and such, whatever those are.
The next Monday however, there were no roses when you returned to your room. Maybe he was just late? Maybe he will show up to your door like the Nameless Ghoul; in his pajamas, out of breath, and covered in dirt and mud. So you waited and waited. You don’t know when but you fell asleep while waiting for him. The next morning when you woke up you decided to go see him after getting ready for the day. When you got to his door, there was a note taped to the door.
‘Sorry! Papa is busy today!’
The note said nothing about where he was, or what he was doing. Was he still in the building? Was he out shopping? Was he sick and didn’t want to seem weak? Maybe he just didn’t want to see anyone so he came up with some vague excuse? Your mind was reeling from what could be happening with Copia today, and especially last night. Were there no more yellow roses? That couldn’t be it, you passed by the garden yesterday and there was a bush in full bloom! So what could be wrong? Did he hate you?
You just couldn’t stop thinking. Through the whole day you were distracted by these thoughts. Your mind wandered while you were cleaning or doing other monotonous work, and you spent any time eating or drinking just staring at your food. You were worried. Should someone be this worried about someone who is only a friend?
The day was coming to an end, and you were more than ready to get back to your room. You just needed to go for a shower and relax. Do something for fun to get your mind off of it. You enter your room, secretly hoping that there would be a rose on your desk–maybe even two roses–but there were none. Disappointed by your expectations, you gathered a change of clothes and went to the showers. You were the one of the only ones in the ministry who showered at night, so you often got the space to yourself. You were glad to get the alone time to wash the stress of the day off. You just about thought that all of your hair was about to wash down the drain from how stressed you were. After your shower, you changed into something more comfortable, but still presentable in case you were needed for anything later, which wouldn’t be a first.
When you entered your room, there was indeed something new on your desk that wasn’t a rose. It was only a note.
‘Please come meet me in the garden ASAP!
From: Copia’
Your heart skipped a beat when you finished reading the note. What was this about? You really hoped it was nothing bad. Regardless, you put on some shoes and a sweater and made your path to the garden.
Most of the ministry had retired to their rooms for the night. The most you could hear from others was the music some would softly play in their rooms as they sleep, or the hushed voices of those talking on the phone with their friends or loved ones who are not with them here. The mundane domesticity made your chest feel warm. This was home to you and many others. A strange, really big family.
When you finally made it to the gardens, you couldn’t see Copia. You couldn’t see much of anything. You could however hear what could only be described as a whispered yell.
“Now! The lights! Hit the lights!” the voice said.
You saw the lights in another room across the gardens turn on through the window.
“No, no! Not that one! Oh, mio dio, idiota!”
The light that had been wrongfully turned on was quickly shut back off. A moment later, the garden was lit up by lights that were not there before. It looked beautiful.
As you were about to walk through the garden, Copia rose from behind a bush. And – if your memory serves you right – the same bush he was behind all those months ago, the day your friendship began.
“Ah! There you are!” Copia exclaimed before he approached you.
He looked you up and down.
“You aren’t cold, are you?” He asked, genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine,” you tell him. “But thank you for your concern.”
“That is good. That is good…” Copia trailed off for a moment, nervously wringing his hands together as he looked around at the garden.
“Is everything okay?” you asked him. He quickly looked back at you.
“Hm?” he sounded as if his mind was elsewhere, “Oh! Yes, everything is fine! It’s just… you know… I- I want to go over here! Yes. Come, come!”
Copia was leading you to a specific part of the garden. You walked just about side by side, only he was ever so slightly ahead of you.
The garden looked different at night, especially with the lights. With the curfew, you had never seen the garden at this hour. You wondered if Sister Imperator knew about what was happening in the garden tonight.
Soon, Copia stopped you rather abruptly by standing right in front of you.
“I have a surprise for you, amico mio. But first,” Copia had his hands behind his back, and you saw a rustling in the bush that was almost directly behind him. Papa had Ghouls in the bushes. You tried your best to ignore it, but it was just too absurd. You wondered how many Ghouls were in the garden. “Ah! Here it is! I’m sorry I was so late this week.”
Copia held out to you a single yellow rose; the one that had been eating at you for longer than it should have. You smiled as you took the rose from him, your fingertips brushed against his own. You looked away at the rose and back up as his face. His cheeks were dusted pink, and his eyes shined and reflected the lights around the both of you.
He held out his hand for you to take as he led you a few steps further. Soon you saw it; a bush that was not there before. A bush of red roses.
You were never entirely sure as to why Primo never grew red roses before. You thought it was strange that the most common color of rose was not present in the garden. However, now it was. You wondered how it grew so fast, as it wasn’t there the last time you were here. The ground beneath the rosebush looked… not very nice. Did Copia do this? Did he dig up a red rose bush and… bring it to the garden? If that’s the case, you pray that Primo doesn’t kill him in the morning.
“Ah, would you look at that,” Copia said as he looked at the red rosebush, “these roses just started growing in. Can you believe it, amico mio?”
Copia must have thought he had fooled you, but your eye is keen. However, you decided to humor him.
“Oh wow! Those grew in rather quickly,” you said, “I can’t seem to recall even seeing a bush here before.”
“Haha, yes,” Copia looked rather embarrassed. You weren’t very good at fooling him either, “this garden must be magic!”
You both stood in silence for a moment. Why was this so awkward?
“I’m sorry,” Copia suddenly said, “I tried to make this special but I did too much and I didn’t have enough time and I ruined it… I ruined the garden too, Primo’s going to kill me.”
You slowly brushed your hand against his own and he looked over at you.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said as you looped your pinky through his, “I like this.”
He smiled at you.
“I do have one more thing for you. Please, sit here and close your eyes,” he said as he led you to sit on a large rock, “I will be just a moment. No peeking!”
You sat on the cold rock and waited for Copia to return with the surprise he had for you. You wondered what it was going to be. With the amount of theatrics he goes through for you, you were worried he broke the bank with something crazy that would surely get him in trouble with everyone and everything on the premises.
Just as fast as he had left, Copia returned as you heard him step in front of you.
“Okay,” he said, “you can open your eyes now!”
You opened your eyes and looked up at what he was holding. You blinked a few times for your eyes to refocus, and you saw him holding out a singular lavender rose. Or a purple rose. It depends on who you ask really, but regardless of the specificity on what shade the rose was, it was the same as the rose you got all those years ago from a mystery person. You gasped slightly as you saw it, and took it from him.
“I know they’re your favorite,” Copia said, “I hope you like it.”
“Copia,” you gaped at him, “I love it.”
The rose smelled beautiful. Copia sat beside you on the rock.
“Do you know what that color of rose means?” Copia asked you.
You shook your head. You didn’t. Even the first time you got one, you didn’t think to check. You thought it was a simple welcome gift and nothing more.
“They mean love at first sight,” Copia said, sounding nervous, “and this rose represents those feelings that I have for you.”
You blushed as you smiled brightly, and Copia took your hand. You were now realizing that you loved him.
“You’ve loved me since you first saw me?” you asked, “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Copia laughed a bit and squeezed your hand.
“Well you see, I tried to,” he told you.
“What?” you were confused, “when did you…”
Then it hit you.
“Was it you?” you asked, trying not to sound so shocked, “You were the one who sent me that rose?”
“Sì,” he said, “I remember seeing you in the library during your first few weeks here. I thought you looked so beautiful, but also very lost. I was going to talk to you, to help you. Someone beat me to it. I asked who you were, and I was able to find where your room was – I apologize if that is a bit creepy – and I was going to talk to you then.”
“But you never really did.” you recalled. Copia nodded.
“I was too nervous. So, I looked into doing it in a subtle manner. I took out a book on the language of flowers, and then I found the purple rose. It was perfect,” he said, “but I was a little too excited, or a bit stupid. Maybe both… probably both. I forgot to add a note of some kind. You had no idea who it was from.”
“But now I do know who it’s from,” you smiled at him, “and I’m glad that I do, because I feel the same way.”
“You do?” Copia sounded almost shocked.
You nodded your head.
Very suddenly, Copia put his gloved hands on your jaw, and brought you into a kiss. Your stomach was doing loops as he kissed you. It took your breath away. Your lips fit perfectly with his, as if it was meant to be, like you had found your missing piece. Both you and Copia relaxed into the kiss; finally getting the rhythm of your lips just right.
You both pulled away to look at each other, now feeling rather bashful and shy.
“I think I can start giving you red roses now instead of yellow, sì?” Copia asked.
You brought your foreheads together, lips barely apart.
“I hope you do,” you reply, giving him a soft peck on the lips, “I know what those ones mean.”