A Single Rose (Rozzy) 5 YEARS IN THE PAST

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren strolls down the brightly lit street, a soccer ball weaving smoothly between his feet. He wrestles it nimbly in figure-eights and pullbacks and stopovers, ducking and dodging fellow pedestrians expertly. He has a soccer game tonight against the second-best team in the city, and Rosalind is going to be there, so he must score. He must score…four…no, five goals, though six would be ideal. But young Soren has always known that it is better to be firmly grounded in reality than it is to radiate pessimism or optimism. The philosophy has certainly achieved him the straight As that other, happier students seem to fall short of.

Rosalind is going to be there. Rosalind is coming tonight. He repeats the sentence to himself in his head. Rosalind will be at the game, watching him. Rosalind will see him as he dances across the field, an eagle soaring far above the other players, toying with the ball like a seasoned cat bats a mouse back and forth. She will see him fly, and she will see him kick, and she will see him, the real him, in his glory. Soren is so excited that he can barely contain himself. He does not have a lot of friends, but he has his brain, he has soccer, and he has Rosalind. And that is all that he will ever need.

There is a word to convey such bombardments of heavy emotion. Soren has experimented with it, allowing the syllable to play across his lips like a tiny entity with a mind of its own. He has never spoken the word aloud, as he feels that he is above such things, but he allows his throat to dispel it now, his lips closing just before it tumbles into the auditory spectrum. ”Fu….fu…

”Fuck.

His lips create the final click, and he feels a twinge of guilt, as if he has just released a droplet of evil into the world. He turns into a side alley, wedging the soccer ball behind a dumpster with his left toe, and promising himself that he will remember to come and reclaim it. Soren does not want to be evil. He never wants to be evil. He only wants to grow up and do good things for the world, using the intellect with which he knows he has been gifted.

He climbs the stairs to her family’s apartment, pulling open the door that he knows is unlocked and letting himself in. He wants to grow up with Rosalind. They are only fourteen years old, but he knows that age is only a number. They are perfect for each other, for they both enjoy classical music while the other kids listen to rap, and long books by old dead guys while the others read Harry Potter, and documentaries on the universe while the others watch Disney Channel, and playing board games while the others play Call of Duty. They have found each other, Soren and Rosalind, and they will grow old and marry. Soren has promised her, and she has promised him, that nothing will come between them. They are both old for their years, he knows, and the others, with their hookups and breakups, will never understand.

“Hey there,” he says calmly, leaning against the doorframe. His t-shirt sporting the Periodic Table of the Elements is ruffled by wind from a nearby open window. “How’s my Rozzy Rozzborne? Ready for some fun today?” He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it. He does not like to use jell yet, but he knows that it looks better tousled. He adjusts his thick-framed glasses and smiles, revealing a battalion of crooked metal braces. “I brought Wuthering Heights for us to read together,” he adds in an afterthought, hoping that she will like it. He does not know if she has read Wuthering Heights yet, but assumes that she has. He has read it, after all, and Rosalind has almost always read the books that Soren has read.

[enchantinghedgie]

Rosalind Ward isn't a huge fan of soccer(in fact, she isn't a big fan of sports in general). But what she is a fan of is Soren, and the two came hand in hand. So as long as she has Soren, she is happy.

Happy. Such a boring word. Perhaps instead, she is merry, cheerful, chipper, delighted, jubilant? Rosalind will never allow herself to speak such a plain word aloud when there are so many others that are better and would suffice such the same. But sometimes, around Soren or even thinking of Soren, she forgets herself. Love seemes to do that to her, and even though she is only fourteen, she knows it is love. They are much older at heart and capable of many more emotions than the other teenagers their age.

She is sitting on her bed, waiting for Soren to arrive. He iss taking her to his soccer game tonight, and even though she does not like sports, she will cheer for him when she deems it appropriate. Which she knows will be the whole time, because though she doesn't know much about sports, she knows he is the best she has seen. Because he is her best friend, her Soren, and that is all that matters. They have promised each other, after all.

And she will always have her Soren, even when times are tough. Rosalind does not have many things she loves in such a way that she expects them to stay around forever, but as long as Soren is one of those few things, she is hap- delighted.

She hears the door opened and knows it is him. He is welcomed in her apartment as family, though he is so much more that her parents do not understand yet don't question it. Rosalind stares at her open door, waiting for him to pop in, and there he is.

“Hey there," he says, and she smiles. Her smile is not yet fake and manipulative as it and she will be in the future, but it is sincere and sweet, as she is now. This smile says everything.

“How’s my Rozzy Rozzborne? Ready for some fun today?”

"Of course," she says, and adjusts her glasses which have begun to slide down her nose.

“I brought Wuthering Heights for us to read together.”

Rosalind smiles and stands and goes to her bookshelf, pulling out her own copy of Wuthering Heights. Where other teenagers have magazines and movies, Rosalind has books. She loves reading, and she loves Soren, and it makes sense that those two things can be combined. "My favorite," she says, smiling again.

notes; Sorry if I switched tenses anywhere, I tried. :c
AND OMG SO CUTE I LOVE SORELIND. <3
OUTFIT

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren is so excited that he can barely contain himself from springing into the air and cartwheeling around Rosalind’s apartment. Rosalind is going to be there, in the stands, sitting, watching him in his element, his world. And if she has ever even glanced at another boy Soren knows that she will not anymore, because she will see him run faster than any boy she has ever known, and she will see him kick the ball higher and dribble through more defensemen and pass and receive and shoot and score with more ease than any of them can ever hope to display to her. And then hopefully she will come to him after the game smiling and laughing and telling him how wonderful he is, and then maybe they will…but no, no he can not think about that, he is much too young, that is only something that old characters in old books do, they can not really…kiss?

Will she kiss him? On the lips? Does she love him enough? Soren does not know. But he knows that she will after this game, because he is going to play the game of his life. For her.

"Of course." Soren sees her adjusting her glasses and nods, emulating the gesture. He wonders if she will hold his glasses while he plays, so that when he puts them back on they will smell like her, like rosemary and lilac and vanilla and everything else that wafts around her when he walks beside her, and once he is alone he will smell Rosalind and remember her for the rest of the night and be happy. Because he is always happy around his Rozzy Rosborne.

“Good! Let’s go then.” He tries to hold in his excitement, and probably fails. He leads her from the apartment ecstatically, retrieving his soccer ball from behind the dumpster as they emerge into the alleyway. “The field's just on the other side of town. It usually takes me about half an hour to get there. Plenty of time for…” He offers her a shy, awkward smile. It is the only expression he knows how to create that he thinks will make him more endearing to her. “Reading.”He pulls out the enormous volume.

"My favorite."

“Mine too.” He smiles shyly again, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “Except for you, of course…” Not that she’s a book. You’re talking about books. What are you thinking, dummy? He stares at his feet as they begin to descend into the subway, opening the book hurriedly to change the subject.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord,” he begins, reading the sentence, though he has had it memorized for quite a while now. “The solitary neighbor that I shall not be troubled with.” He hands her the book as they arrive in line for the ticket window. “Okay, now you go next.”


OUTFIT HERE!

[enchantinghedgie]

Rosalind follows Soren excitedly, and a little scared also. She had never trusted the city at dusk, and she isn't about to start doing that now. There are scary terrifying things and scary frightening people. The whole atmosphere is scary eerie. But as long as she had Soren with her, she feels safe, though logic tells her that he is only fourteen, just as she is, and there are many that could easily overpower him. She doesn't care, though, because just knowing that someone is with her makes her feel fine. It does not, however, stop her slight tremble or her jumpiness at the sonances around them, especially the ones coming from the alleyways they pass.

“The field's just on the other side of town. It usually takes me about half an hour to get there. Plenty of time for…” He offers her a shy, awkward smile. It is the only expression he knows how to create that he thinks will make him more endearing to her. “Reading.”

"Really? Great!" Oh, she had used another boring word. Mentally, she scolds herself. At least her voice is not shaky, and that tells her that that slight feeling of security still lingers.

The howling of a cat makes her nearly jump on to Soren's back and demand that he run, but she catches herself and simply clings to him instead. It's okay, she tells herself. You'll be fine. You'll be on the subway soon and the possiblilty of something surprising you is much less probable. She repeats this over and over in her head as the descend the stairs to the subway, almost so much so that she misses what Soren says.

“Mine too.” He smiles shyly again, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “Except for you, of course…”

Instantly, she calms down and laughs. Soren makes her do that sometimes. She pokes him playfully. "I'm not a book, silly!" she teases, only saying that in good humor. Hopefully he will not take it seriously. After all, she messes words up, too, and she rather likes considering herself... not a hypocrite.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord. The solitary neighbor that I shall not be troubled with.” He hands her the book as they arrive in line for the ticket window. “Okay, now you go next.”

"This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist's heaven: and Mr Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us...." She trails off, realizing that she is hogging the lines she has long ago memorized. Blushing, she smiles sheepishly and lookes away.

[SOREN SOMERSETT]

Soren starts down the steps, cleats clicking against the grimy tile. He's been yelled at for wearing cleats into the station before but...well, these are brand new spikes, striped with blue, like his team's colors. 200 buck kangaroo leather, and he knows they'll be the best looking cleats on the field. And Rosalind will be able to see exactly which one he is, because his cleats are different from all of the others. Just like the two of them.

We are different from all the other couples. I know we are. They are never going to break up. That is only something peoe in movies do, and young, immature people. Middle school kids. People who don't really, truly love each other. Not like he loves Roz, anyway.

Always. Like that Taylor Swift song, not that he listens to Taylor Swift. Forever and always.

I'm not a book, silly!

"Course you aren't," he replies quickly, blushing the shade of the Gryffindor crest. "I mean, a book would never be as...beautiful...with your eyes, Roz, and your..." Jeez, he was so bad at this romantic stuff. He is going to have to work on it before he proposes to her and they get married in a beautiful marble castle with a giant soccer stadium on the roof.

"A capital fellow!" Soren continues as they step onto the subway. He giggles: he's always liked that line. He feels Roz pressing against him, frightened as the crowd presses around then, and he clutches her to his chest. ""I gotcha, Roz," he whispers into her ear, feeling her chest rise and fall against his. He is captain of his soccer team, and he supposes that the position applies to situations outside the soccer field as well.

A captain protects, after all. And as he runs his fingers through Rosalind's hair, he knows that just as he protects the ball on a breakaway, he will protect her to to the death.