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A Requiem to the Loved and the Unloved

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A/N: With Valentine's coming tomorrow, and the theme or the one-shot this month being love, here's a little collection of one-shot love stories ;) All are welcome to edit, if you wish. True and made-up stories are both welcome ;D

A + REdit

Ironic, isn't it, that I had a huge crush on this one guy for almost a year. And I'm talking big crush. And then he comes strolling in and...I don't know. The expected thing to say would be magic, or we just clicked, or something or other. And I'll admit, maybe I did have a tiny crush on him when I first met him, but as that crush--the first one--led to nothing, I didn't get my hopes up. And, look at this, I only knew him for about three or four months now, and he says he has something important to tell me. And, being the romantic paranoid as I am, I thought: Would it just be so funny if he told me he liked me right now?But, of course, I was being paranoid and it was probably something or other that wasn't romance-related. And then, when he finally chokes those few words out, the words that mean everything to me and absolutely nothing at the same time, guess what they are?

"I admit that...I've had a big crush on ever since I first met you."

And now it's Valentine's Day. I wonder what we'll do this Tuesday...?

I'd Never AdmitEdit

The Place: Highschool. Chaotic, hectic, hellish, and romance is in the air this Valentine's. Stuck in the middle of Brooklyn, the freshmen are ignored, the sophomores are trying to squeeze in, the juniors spend all their time looking at the seniors and trying to copy them, and the seniors. The queen bees. That's where this story will take place.

The Time: Febuary 14th, 2012.

She: The closed off tomboy, the one always wearing a hoodie that sometimes seems to have no friends yet sometimes seems to have tons. The one who'll never admit she feels anything in her stone-cold chest. The one who rejects the idealistic idea of love.

He: Labeled a dumb jock but surrounded by many others, he has the idealistic life of a popular guy but finds himself confused in his happiness, or lack thereof. Curiosity overcomes him, his curiosity to find a life other than his.

Action.

She stands behind the building, smoking, a distant look on her face. Her thoughts wander, and she doesn't pay attention to what's around her, even though she knows it can be the doom of her. A teacher could pass by at any moment and catch her. It's not the usual corner where the smokers hang, but she likes the peace and quiet. But the one that finds her is not a teacher.

He trips over his own feet and lands on his face. She jumps, startled out of her thoughts, then bursts out laughing, dropping the cigarette.

"Dude! You look like an idiot!"

The Place: A small garden, cherryblossom trees billowing in a gentle May breeze. Many people are gathered, smiling, cheering, happy faces and happy smiles. The mood is happy, but a small grave rests under a willow tree. There are chairs set up on the left and right of clearing, and an aisle with a red carpet runs down the middle. At the end waits a plastic arch, vines woven into it, the kind you can find at many Home Depots. A man waits on the left of the arch, and a woman waits in the middle, holding a book.

The Time: Febuary 14th, 2018

She: The lucky girl.

He: The lucky guy.

Action.

The nervous man waiting to the left of the plastic arch fingers his bowtie, but the man next to him places his hand on his shoulder and gives a reassuring smile. There's much gossip and chat, but as sweet cellos begin to play, the talk stops. Then several women, dressed in a soft sky-blue hue, flood down the aisle, headed by a little girl throwing white rose petals happily. After them follows a woman dressed in white, and she and an older man walk arm in arm, and she begins to make her way down the aisle. She gives a nervous smile to one of the women standing in the seats; she gives two thumbs up. As the two reache the arch, he lets her go and wipes away a tear. He melts back into the small crowd.

She giggles nervously when the man leans over and whispers in her ear,

"Dude...you look beautiful."

Forever LoveEdit

Forever love

The small children giggle and point and laugh as the five-year-old girl claps happily. She and a boy rest under the shade of a tree.

He, the five-year-old boy, gets down on one knee on the grass and pulls out a little box. He opens it and inside gleams a cheap plastic ring.

"Amelia, Will you marry me?" he asks her, giving her a wide grin, a single front tooth missing.

"Yes!"


There was much gossip when the two walked away from the sunny grounds and under a shady tree.

"Where are they going?"

"Are they gonna make out?"

"Ewwww, shut up."

He takes her hand and they sit under the tree, the companionable silence between them comforting. They talk quietly for a bit, and then she rests her head on his shoulder, smiling up at the clouds.

"Liam," she says softly. "Remember when we were five? And you asked to marry me?"

He laughs. "Yes, of course. What's that got to do with now? We're in seventh grade now."

"I know...but I still love remembering that. That you asked me to marry you in kindergarten and we're together again now, what, eight years later."

He smiles and kisses her forehead.

"Always, Amelia."


She sorts through the list, confused. "Liam, I don't want to go to college. It'll mean four years away from you."

He smiles regretfully, looking at the list. They sit under a tree, and he sits with his legs crossed. Her head is in his lap, and his arms around her in a half-hug.

"We have to, Amelia. And anyways, we might get accepted into the same college. I want to get a creative writing major and you want to get a studio art major, and since both are in the arts category, maybe they'll be at the same college. And we can't whine about it now. We're eighteen, it's time to suck it up."

She laughs. "Fine, fine. How about this one?" She holds up a piece of paper.

"Mm...I dunno. How about this one?" he asks, and he kisses her forehead.


An older man and woman sit in rocking chairs under the shade of a tree, possibly around their forties or so. An eight, twelve and fourteen year old run around in the clearing in front of the tree.

"Amelia," the man asks, "do you remember the days when we were that young and rambunctious?"

She smiles, chortling and nodding. "I couldn't forget them quickly."

He smiles back. "I could forget them easily. It's you that I wouldn't be able to forget."


An older man, in his seventies, sits under the shade of a tree, gazing at a grave in front of him. He looks sad, but as he reads the grave stone over and over he smiles weakly.

"Amelia," he asks softly, "where are you now?"

A soft breeze whispers past him, and he chuckles.


A sweet, fragrant breeze sweeps by an old tree, carrying scent of blossoms. Two grave stones rest next to each other.

Here Lies Amelia Williams | Here Lies Liam Williams

Wife to Liam, Mother of Three | Husband to Amelia, Father of Three

May she rest in peace | May he rest in peace

Their love was a forever love

Close Your Eyes, Dear, and Make a Wish

Make a wish

She thrusts the flower at him, smiling.

"C'mon. Close your eyes. Make a wish."

He looks at the flower skeptically.

"I'm not a kid anymore, no one makes wishes on wish flowers anymore."

She looks hurt.

"I still make wishes on wish flowers."

He pulls her into a hug, smiling.

"I didn't mean it like that."

She stills holds the flower.

"Will you make a wish, then?"

He sighs and nods.

"Fine, fine, show me the ropes."

The two lie down on the grass, and she guides him.

"Close your eyes, dear," she whispers in his ear, covering his eyes with her hands.

He grins.

"Now, take in a deep breath."

He sucks in a deep breath loudly, and she giggles.

"And make a wish."

He blows it out in one go, and the soft wish flower explodes.

"What did you wish for?" she asks later on.

He puts his hand under her chin, lifting her eyes and keeping a steady gaze with her.

"I wished for you."

Take Me InsteadEdit

She held the ragged, grotesque corpse in her arms, sobbing. She had long dark hair, and she was young, at most twenty-seven, but she looked so tired. There were dark bags under her eyes and she wore drab sweat pants and a sweatshirt. The corpse in her arms, a man, was still bleeding he was so freshly dead. The woman seemed oblivious to the crowd surrounding her.

She sobbed into his cold shoulder, her shoulders shaking. She screamed into his cold shoulder, her face streaked with red. She looked up at the sky, a cold, unbreakable gray, and closed her eyes, ignoring the scrathes from falling hail. She held up her hands and shrieked. "Take me!!" she pleaded. "Bring him back and kill me! Take me instead!"

She sat there, in the hail and the cold with the corpse long into the night. There was not a moment when she stopped whispering those three words. "Take me instead...take me instead...take me instead..."

Finally, she felt a breeze whisper past. It stroked her cheek and dried the tears on her red cheeks. And in those last few seconds, there was not a moment when the breeze did not whisper those three words. "I love you...I love you...I love you..."

And then the sun rose, and the dawn came, and the body was gone.

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