The Last Rose Never Dies [14+]

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The Last Rose Never Dies [14+]

Post by ChloeRussellx on Thu Jun 28, 2012 6:59 am

♥ T H E | L A S T | R O S E | N E V E R | D I E S ♥
Rating: 14+
Disclaimer: I do not own Elisabeth or Harry but I own the character of Christopher and the storyline!
Author's Note: I wrote this for Libby so I hope you enjoy it! I'm sorry it's not really a happy one, but I haven't written you one yet like I said I would!

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Pour yourself into my mouth, I love the way you taste;

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ChloeRussellx
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Re: The Last Rose Never Dies [14+]

Post by ChloeRussellx on Thu Jun 28, 2012 7:00 am

Harry,
I am writing this letter to you because I am too scared to do it face to face. You don’t know me, we have never met, but I know you. This is going to be as hard for you as it is for me.

When you were sixteen, you had a girlfriend. Her name was Elisabeth Vevle. She loved you, you were pretty much the love of her life. From her stories I can tell you felt the same way in the beginning. She told me lots of stories about you, when you hung around at the local park’s field after school and has to run and take shelter from the rain during the April showers. She told me so many stories, I think I know them all by heart. I loved listening to them. But I think the one when you met the first time is the most memorable one; the one she told over and over and over again.
I have no idea how much you remember of her, or how important she was to you. If you don’t remember, here’s a little reminder to how it started. You both met when you were twelve years old. She moved to Cambridge from Norway after her mother died. Her father had moved to Essex shortly after Elisabeth was born and he was the only family she had left. She told me so much about her mother, how they would bake cookies and cakes every Saturday afternoon, and how Elisabeth would get to lick the bowl. She said her mother was a spitting image of her and all she had to do was look in the mirror to be reminded of her mother.
Anyway, back to how you and Elisabeth met. When she arrived in Cambridge, she didn’t know the language, but the first time you saw her standing next to their car, while her father and his friends were taking boxes into the house, she waved at you. You waved back on that scorching summer’s day. You were wearing an all white cricket outfit which was covered in grass stains, you still had your helmet on and your face shield down. You walked up to her and asked her if you wanted to go play around, hitting the ball about on the field. She had no idea what you said though, but when you spoke slower and made gestures she quickly understood what you meant.
She told me that after that, you taught her extra English lessons, you even stood up for her at school when people laughed at her for not understanding them properly, never mind the jokes they would tell. But when you started secondary school, after the six weeks holiday, Elisabeth wasn’t just a little girl anymore. She got the attention of more lads and you hated it. She told me you were with someone called Heidi at some point. I know her too. Lovely woman.
Eventually, you broke up with Heidi, deciding that you and her should just be friends. Though Elisabeth has always known there was a second reason - you had your eye on somebody else. You’ve always been terrible at hiding your feelings according to Elisabeth. She found it hilarious how you once tried to impress her by giving her a dozen roses and write a little card with it that read: “I’ll love you ‘til the last rose dies’. But you forgot to put the plastic rose in the bouquet. She did fall for it though, and when you gave her the plastic rose you kissed for the first time. For months after that I know they would have been the best ones of her life.

You must be wandering right now who I am. Well, you’ve probably been wandering that since you opened this letter. Elisabeth was furious when she caught you with some other girl. Furious and heartbroken. Left with memories, good and bad ones. But that’s not all.
She never wanted to tell you, because she didn’t want you to come back for any other reason than because you still loved her. She even burnt her plastic rose.
The bad memories faded after a few years, the love for you was all that lasted. If she’d have told you, it would have ruined your life she thought.
Harry, I’d like to tell you I’m Christopher Harry Vevle. Elisabeth Vevle was my mother. You are my father. I don’t know if you’ll ever reply to this letter, or even if you’ll destroy it after reading it. I would just like to tell you I would like to meet you someday if possible. From the hundreds of stories my mum and Heidi have told me, I recognise a lot of myself in them. She even used to say “you’re so much like your father” to me all the time.
Elisabeth died two years ago because of a car accident. She was driving down a country road when a drunken driver came speeding down the other way towards her, having no control of his car. The collision sent mum flying and she landed 20 meters away in the field next to the road. She died immediately. Heidi has taken care of me since that day.
Today is my 18th birthday and mum had asked Heidi to give me your address so I can decide if I want to meet you. I do want to meet you. I’ve heard the bad stories, but I’ve also heard more good stories. Everyone makes mistakes, it’s the past that makes us who we are.
Heidi even gave me the last pieces of the plastic rose. It’s black now of course, but it is still the rose.
I can give you it if you want.

Love,
Christopher - your son




He stood staring at the black door with the number “48” on the front in silver figures. He folded the piece of paper neatly in his jacket pocket and took a deep breath. Before he could stop himself, his finger pressed the doorbell.
Taking a step back, he waited. He could see a figure moving behind the frosted glass and his heartbeat picked up pace. The door opened and a tall, brown haired boy with stubble on his face filled the doorway, his mouth was hanging slightly.
“Dad?” the boy spoke in his deep voice. It was like hearing and seeing himself in a younger form again.
“Hi son, happy birthday.”

____________________________________________________________________________
Pour yourself into my mouth, I love the way you taste;

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ChloeRussellx
Going Through The Motions
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Location : Essex! Dont be jel, be reem ;)

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