Chapter Text
──────────────────────────────────────────
“ Michael, do you ever wonder why the blue rose doesn’t exist naturally?”
“Don’t bother asking me such stupid questions Alexis.”
──────────────────────────────────────────
Kaiser takes the cup of tea next to him and raises it to his lips. He sips with his eyes closed then opens them again only to be met with a mist of clouds blocking his eyesight. Taking off his glasses, he grabs a napkin on the mini table beside his chair to wipe away the steam brought upon the fragile glass. It was only then that Kaiser finally noticed the white petals that sat next to where he just grabbed napkins from.
Observing from the corner of his eyes, Kaiser takes note of the way the long stem of the flower looks freshly cut, looking recently plucked from a garden only to randomly stumble into Kaiser’s humble abode.
On top of the stem stood five mini white petals surrounding a greenish yellow pistil. Followed by two small leaves that stood firmly still on the stem of the flower. The flower looked well cared for with no signs of decaying soon, nor did it have any wiggly worms or bugs that were after its sweet smell. One might even mistake it for a fake flower if it weren’t for the morning dew that sat upon the petals, a sign of its authenticity.
Picking up the flower, Kaiser holds it delicately between his fingers as he stares at it one last time, right before dropping it onto the floor, and crushing it with his foot.
While putting his now non-stained glasses back on, Kaiser continues to sip his tea as today is a day of celebration; a reward for his recent victory last week when he scored the final point for Basard Muchen.
──────────────────────────────────────────
A sweet chime goes through the halls of a quiet flower shop just as the sun begins to rise for the day. The sound of a door closing alerts no one else except the only employee that was willing to work so early in the morning.
“Thanks for buying from our shop! We’ll have these flowers delivered to you by tomorrow morning,” shouts the employee at the register.
Once the customer has been confirmed to have left the shop just as quietly as he came in, the employee quickly goes to the back of the shop to overlook the large variety of flowers in the garden.
They quickly scan through the rows and rows of flowers they grew in preparation for the holiday of love, only to stop in front of a small patch of white flowers, labeled Nasturtiums . The employee quickly plucks a few differently colored flowers out of the pot that have recently bloomed and cuts the stems to be shorter.
With delicate hands, the employee makes sure to handle the flower with utmost care while wrapping it into a bouquet.
“A flower that means victory huh? Well that’s certainly a new one,” mumbles the employee as they finish off the white bow at the end of the bouquet.
──────────────────────────────────────────
Apparently, even if Kaiser is strictly told not to play soccer due to a slightly twisted ankle (the fault of a practice accident yesterday) he would still prefer to run even if he were to end up at the hospital again.
Kaiser hates the feeling of being behind anything or anyone. The last NEL match was proof of how much he needed to grow in order to beat the snobbish blue lock members he despised.
So in order to escape the horror of possibly losing to a blue teenage brat, Kaiser continues to run.
His old soccer ball was still in good shape, though it’s clear that he shouldn’t be kicking it anymore, yet he doesn’t care. He’s frustrated and turns to the ball for comfort. Perhaps it’s due to his feeling of loyalty to the battered up toy.
Sweat accumulates on his exposed neck, as he can feel his ponytail starting to come undone. He stops and takes this as a sign to return home before any annoying acquaintances of his were to recognize him out in public.
While going through the hallways of his house, he passes by a room that isn't often used by him. In fact, he remembers that no one is ever allowed into the room except a certain dark haired boy.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots a garden of purple. Thinking it was the man mentioned before, he opens his mouth to call out his name only to get no response.
Right he said he would be busy for the week.
Ignoring the pain in his chest at the thought, Kaiser opens the door further to find out what it was he noticed earlier.
While he himself had no real use for the room, he knew that another person did. He didn’t care what his guest would do in the room nor did he bother to ask. Truly, he had no idea what he would experience once he bothered to satisfy his curiosity of what’s inside the room.
As the door swings open and his bare feet start walking in, Kaiser is first surprised at the abundance of bright colors adorning the room. The most noticeable gold and lapis colored stains covered the wooden floor and walls. Multitudes of canvases filled up the room with a blonde man standing in the middle filled with annoyance.
Not only does he disappear for a week, but he also just leaves this room a mess without telling me? What a good for nothing br-
Kaiser turns to walk away from the room and lock it away forever, but stops at the sight of what’s hidden behind the door. He swings the door around to face a painting hung high, nailed to the top of the frame, slightly shaking from how hard he swung open the door.
It was creepy in a way, really, to see another blonde man with blue tips clearly staring back at him. Well actually, more like a sleeping Kaiser right in front of him. He takes note of how the painting version of himself was much more relaxed compared to the real life version. The blonde locks of the canvas were spread everywhere with lapis tips only slightly showing through due to an abundance of violet like flowers covering up the rest of the painting.
Kaiser had no care for any flower other than blue roses, so he ignored how they reminded him of a certain purple haired man.
With no watermark to tell him who the painting was made by, all Kaiser did was walk out of the room without a word. Not like he had anyone to tell about his words to anyways.
Something at the back of his mind nagged him though. He may not know who and why the painting was made, but he sure knows that he could only ever look so relaxed with sleeping in front of specific person.
A picture of the violet flowers shows up in his mind again, but he shakes his head in denial.
──────────────────────────────────────────
With a finger and a lift of a brush, blue colors start adorning the canvas of white. Specks of yellow appear above the lapis blue and spiraling swirls appear all around. The tip of the brush ends right below the canvas, waiting to finish off the last piece of the painting.
The man holding the brush stops in hesitance.
He stops and thinks about what he has to do with his impulsiveness just now. The painting that sits in front mocks him as it’s left unfinished. The yellow strokes that blend in with the lower blue of the piece are surrounded by a thousand dots of purple. A deep rich purple akin to a familiar flower he saw earlier today.
Akin to maybe even the purple hue that sits upon his head.
Without thinking, the man had painted the most important piece of his world. The swipe of red eyeliner that stared back at him was evidence enough of how much he studied his most prized possession up close.
The art was too intimate. Scary, even. The painter had poured his whole soul into the piece hoping it might be good enough to show to the world. His world, maybe. Nonetheless, he was afraid of what the victim of his painting might say if he were to find out about what he just did in the confinements of his sacred room.
But that line of thought ends as he leaves the painting unfinished. Every piece of white on the canvas before was now adorned with pale colors and a beautiful god that looked at peace amongst a garden of flowers.
A garden of purple flowers.
A garden of violets.
A garden filled with petals that symbolizes faith and loyalty.
The man lifts up his brush and leaves the painting unfinished without a watermark.