I know I shouldn't start another one-shot with...three stories waiting, but I just HAD to write it down before it disappeared from the face of earth! Well, I got my idea from this story about a nightingale and a rose...and last time I read it was a loooong time ago, and there are variations of the same story, so it might be a bit weird...

Warning: This is a sad fanfic. To me, at least.

They had been together for a couple of years now, despite their differences.

A lone nightingale swooped around the red rose, staring at it in wonder.

He was the rose which many cooed over, while she was the plain nightingale, never leaving his side, always dancing around him.

He was a glamorous star, shining in an invisible spotlight, crowded with friends, looked up upon by peers and seniors alike; she was a mere shadow, slinking in the corners, never daring to leave the recluse of the darkness which she was so used to. He was fawned upon, chased by dozens of fangirls; she was snorted and sneered at, chased by dozens of those who whished her an early death.

They all knew that he and she were a couple; they gossiped, not believing that he had chose such an...oddity to be his girlfriend. Though they had been childhood friends since...forever, not many knew.

He chose her for her silken teal hair, her rare, sweet smiles that she showed only him, for her kindness, for her strength, and finally her, for just being her.

She liked him because of his hair, which shone like the sun, because of his patience, because of his warmth. She liked everything about him.

Except for one.

His pride.

The nightingale swooped down next to the rose, only to earn a prick to its chest from the sharp thorns, drops of blood flowing out, staining the soil.

However, it didn't give up.

Manly pride, as he calls it. Because of that stinking pride of his, they never officially announced that they were dating; instead, they hid in the shadows, leaving others to speculate about their relationship. She understood. After all, what would one feel if one was popular, yet his girlfriend was someone others loathed?

Though she felt hurt, she quickly skipped over it, as if nothing had happened. In fact, there was a large wound on her fragile heart that would never heal.

After all, she was but a little nightingale.

She shivered in the snow, though she was thickly clothed. It was winter after all, and she was out at night. She missed his warm hugs, and their passionate kisses.

She smiled briefly at the thought of their first kiss.

It hadn't been anything that was in her expectations. Their first kiss wasn't anything in the sunset, or in a Ferris wheel that had broken down midway in a ride. It wasn't cliché at all.

It was shared in her living room.

They had been doing homework then. He had already confessed to her, but both of them were too shy to do anything. He had looked over her shoulder without her noticing, trying to copy her work, when she turned around, wanting to holler at her brother to bring some water. Their lips touched, and both were pleasantly surprised. She still remembered his flustered expression, and snickered slightly at the memory.

Afterwards, when she walked him home, at his gate, they kissed again, this time initiated by him. She remembered blushing madly and yelling curses at him, while he was smirking slightly.

Her eyes wandered. Snow angels, snowmans, and remnants of snowball fights to death littered the otherwise desolate school courtyard.

She remembered when he had called her out for a snowball fight after a silly fight. She had cried for days after that dreaded fight, while his twin sister tried comforting her.

"My sister-in-law never cries!" was what she said, and it never failed to cheer her up. The twin's silly antics and swears that she would slaughter her twin brother had her laughing amidst tears.

Back to the snowball fight. He had called her out, and however unwilling she was, she still came, rubbing her reddened eyes. A big fat snowball met her face. Angered, she had fought back, and all thoughts about the damned fight was forgotten, among laughs and shouts of 'Revenge!'

It had been so wonderful then, her life. A smile lit her face, as tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

"Sorry Rin, but looks like that 'sister-in-law' title will have to be given to someone else," she mumbled out, stepping over the edge of the building.

She had never enjoyed such exhilaration at falling, at dying.

Goodbye.

One last dance. The nightingale flew around the still standing rose, energy drained from the amount of blood lost. It flew down one last time, and succeeded.

It got its chest stabbed by the thorns, however.

The fragile body of a nightingale dropped to the ground.

They had only discovered her body the next day. There was a content smile on her pale face, her body frozen from the blizzard the previous night. Frozen teardrops clung onto her eyelashes. Scarlet blood stained the ground, the only reminder that she wasn't walking and breathing; she was dead.

Forever gone.

He looked down at his hands.

He was the one who had killed her, drove her to such extents. That, he was sure. It had all because of what she had always hated: his 'manly' pride. He had rejected her pleas of being a couple officially, saying that she would be targeted. He never considered her feeling about the matter. He was selfish, he knew.

He was sure that he was the one who had killed her.

But, he wasn't so sure if he could live on without her.

The rose started drooping.

"Hey." His voice cracked as he set the snow blossoms down on her grave. She had always liked the simple flowers, though he never knew why.

Ten years had passed.

He now had a wife, but really, the only reason why he ever chose that witch was because she resembled her. That was it. He didn't love her. The only one his heart ached for was the tealette.

He missed her sweet voice, her smiles, and her presence.

Before, he could do nothing.

But now he thought of the perfect plan.

"Don't worry...I'll be there for you soon..." A sad smile on his lips, he walked off to the rooftop of the school building.

A single blood-red petal dropped to the ground, followed by another, then another.

His body was discovered the next day, a sweet photo clutched in his hands. It was a photo of them together, on their first date.

He had a similar smile playing on his lips; only he didn't have tears as she had.

A bent rose stalk and browned petals were all that remained.

From then on, no one dared to go to the rooftop any longer. No one wanted to intrude on their reunion.

"Hey Len, aren't those snow blossoms beautiful?"

"Yes, they are, Miku."

They were together, even in death.

A sweet nightingale danced around a proud rose.

I practically wailed after I re-read it. But I still think this one was one of the better ones of what I wrote.

Somehow, I have a certain liking for writing tragic and angsty stuff. Maybe I should write more of them...

Reviews are appreciated, nya~