Dying Roses

It’s a rose. 

Just a single rose.

In the middle of train tracks surrounded by nothing but toxic gases, dirt and dead trees and bodies.

They stand across from each other, the rose in between them still in the ground. 

One dressed in a dark ripped-up dress with knee-high combat boots and a baggy hoodie with brown hair tied in a ponytail. One of her ears is damaged brutally and a dimmed green gas mask rests on the lower part of her dark-skinned face. Her grey eyes watch with careful focus yet are laced with fear.

The other is dressed in ripped-to-shreds jeans, heeled boots, a loose sports bra with a plaid jacket. She has short fluffy blond hair, a scar going over her eye leaving her blind and a gas mask that covers her damaged eye and the lower part of her face. Her piercing green eyes glare down at the other girl with suspicion.

Each of them have seen the horrors of this world. Each of them bare scars and memories of pain from before. Each wear a gas mask because both know the world is too toxic, especially after the nuclear accidents. 

Were they really accidents?

Was all of the world's one power source, fossil fuels, eventually running out an accident? Was it just an accident that the governments had no backup plan of energy and the world ending up going under?

Was this meeting an accident?

Neither girl knew. But their hearts beat in unison. 

One was born from inside an abandoned power plant with nothing but a dying mother and a scared older brother. 

The other was born from guns and war and violence. An abusive mother and a  father who doesn’t keep his hands to himself.

They lock eyes and don’t move. 

The blond takes a deep breath, her voice broken and dry as it crackles through the mask. 

“A rose. Can’t remember seeing anything like it outside of children’s books.” The blond gestures with one hand while the other holds a large shotgun. “Like the one with the sleeping princess.” She smirks under his mask and winks with her good eye which makes it look more like a blink.

The brunette looks between the flower and the girl in front of her. 

“Who are you?” She asks, her voice just as rough and dry. 

The blond shifts her footing and looks the brunette up and down. “Why does it matter? This’ll probably just be a one-time interaction. maybe a little ‘messing around’ if this goes right.” She teases and the brunette flushes at the implications. 

The blond chuckles as she bends down toward the flower and reaches for it. The brunette is quick to rush over and grab the blond’s wrist. 

“Do not touch it.” She rasps out from behind the mask. The blond looks up to meet grey eyes. 

They sit there, staring not saying a word for quite some time. Each of them are scanning the others face in hopes to understand them better without the use of words. Though Hardly any information is attained. Because they get lost in the others' gaze.

The blond feels something shift inside her, her heart skipping a beat that makes her think it’s unhealthy if only it didn’t feel so right.

“Cleah.” The blond speaks finally. The brunette gives her a weird look as if to ask what she meant.

“My name dumbass.” Cleah pulls her wrist away from the other’s hold swiftly. “If you got something to say, make it quick. My gang and I are gonna be heading out of this shithole soon, and I’m taking the rose with me.” 

“You can’t.” The brunette grits out, defensive. 

“Oh? Says who?” Cleah tests the waters, edging her on, leaning just slightly closer to her enjoying how she reacts.

“Do you know the meaning behind roses?” Now, that’s not the type of response Cleah was expecting to hear.

Such an odd question but Cleah shakes her head in response. Why would she need to know the so-called ‘meaning’ behind a dumb flower?

“Love, romance, and admiration.” The brunette speaks softly. Both look back down at the flower, admiring its looks.

It’s red. Almost a vibrant unnatural red. It’s fully intact, the stem curled and thickly lined with thorns that drip with toxic poison. It’s not what roses used to look like, Cleah knows that much, it’s a mutant species.

Yet it’s still so beautiful. 

Maybe less stunning when compared to the dark-skinned brunette in front of her.

A click noise snaps her gaze from the flower to the girl bending in front of her. Cleah notices that the brunette’s hand is stretched out to the side of Cleah’s face. 

It only takes half a second for Cleah to realize what she’s doing. She’s taking her gas mask off. 

Cleah jumps back, falling onto her butt as her eye widens with fear. The brunette looks at her, her arm resting in the air, with a neutral look. 

She holds Cleah’s gas mask in her hand.

Cleah panics. Fear racking her body. The earth’s atmosphere for years has been described as far too toxic for human lungs. Nuclear gas lingers in the air waiting to kill whoever breathes.

Cleah is quick to bring her hands up to her face as her breathing quickens. Her one good eye scans over all the other’s face looking for some sort of remorse for trying to kill her.

The brunette stands, walking around the flower towards Cleah. Cleah was too panicked to even think of moving away. The other bends down and they lock eyes, faces mere inches apart.

“Breathe.” She whispers to Cleah, dragging out the words. Cleah shakes her head, trying to reach her gas mask in the others hand. She notices this and throws the mask behind her, further away from her. 

“Breathe.” She repeats again and Cleah has nothing better to do. She’s already dead, the gas filling in her lungs and making her weak, so she does as she's told.

She breathes.

And she feels amazing. 

Toxic air burns at her lungs, or at least she believes it to be toxic. 

Her panic slows down as she takes countless deep breaths, allowing her lungs to fill to whatever lies in the air.

“It worked.” The brunette whispers again, taking a step back and removing her own gas mask. She lets it fall to the ground, dirt flying from the action. 

The first thing Cleah noticed on the others face was the amount of scar tissue hidden under her mask. The brunette had scar after scar across the bottom half of her face. It reminded her of chemicals burning skin.

“Why did you take my mask off?!” Her voice was gravely and damaged but clearer than ever before. It almost scared her at how clear her voice sounded.

The brunette simply gestures to the flower. “I’ve seen so many plants start to be reborn. I’ve done countless tests. The air quality is toxic, true, but after years of hiding behind masks, our lungs have developed to withstand its toxicity.” Her voice is just as wrecked as She smiles as wide as she can, her scars stretching across her face in the process. 

“We’re growing the roots for our future.” She breathes out with excitement lacing in her voice. She bends back down to the flower and gently touches it with her finger as Cleah stands up. 

Cleah takes a hard breath, feeling non-filtered air in her lungs. She watches the other with a look saying she’s insane. 

“So… you take my mask off, almost killing me and…. For what? What does a rose have to do with any of this?” The brunette locks her gaze. She smiles and in one swift movement, she’s picking the rose from out of the ground, the thorns picking into her skin. She brings the rose up to her face and walks back to Cleah. 

“To me, this rose is a new beginning. It shows strength and it shows a willpower to move forward.” She spins the rose in her hand. “It’s impossible for it to be here but yet… here it is.” Cleah watches the rose closely.

“I took your mask off because I believe this rose was a sign, earth's way of saying it’s okay, do not be afraid.” The brunette brings the flower up and tucks it behind Cleah’s ear. Small amounts of blood spilled from her hand after letting the flower go. She lets her hand fall to the side and acts as if the bleeding doesn’t exist.

Cleah looks between her and her hand with a confused look, thinking of asking but she’s stopped by the other speaking up.

“Rosetta. That’s my name.” Rosetta smiles and Cleah feels helpless. 

She’s never seen someone smile, everyone’s always been wearing a mask and why would they even need to smile? She bets Rosetta smiles all the time, and she wants to see it every time. 

Rosetta takes one of Cleah’s hands in her own. “Come with me. Please. It is just me and my brother, Kyan.” Rosetta begs softly. 

Cleah hesitates. She looks behind her at the small town her gang is currently raiding. She looks back at Rosetta. 

“I’m not…” Cleah rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “My gang raised me… I can’t just…” Her mind flashes to her childhood. One full of violence, killing, and unhealthy relationships. She can name each one of her gang members that has wronged her, name each one who hurt her. 

“I can tell just from the mere mention of them that that is not your family.” Rosetta speaks as if she understands who Cleah is as a person. “Let go, let us be your new family.” Rosetta leans forward and lets their foreheads touch softly. 

Cleah holds her breath. She’s reminded of the flower behind her ear as it pricks at the soft skin of her ear. 

It symbolizes a new beginning.

Cleah nods. “Yeah… okay. I’ll go…” she watches in full as Rosetta smiles as wide as she’s ever done before and throws her arms around her neck, giggles falling past her lips. 

Then the giggles stop. Because rose-tinted lips and being pressed against her own.

Rosetta kisses her. Kisses her with all she has. Kisses her in a way that shows her a new start, a new hope. It shows her love and she’s overwhelmed with emotions that burst at the seams. She feels as if she could cry but also concur the world. 

She kisses her and it reminds her of roses. 

It’s just as beautiful, soft, and it means love.

This is their new start. They’ve planted the seeds.

Now they just wait until the roots form.