Rose Tinted (Patreon)

6 o’ clock and it was already starting to get dark.

As she stood just beyond Central Park's bronzed arches, Amelia Rosabel patiently waited for her date to appear from beyond the horizon. So far, she'd been waiting at the entrance gate for about 12 minutes. 30 minutes past the time she dropped the hint that she'd be leaving for their rendezvous point.

There's no way that he forgot.

Her mind was already racing. Throughout the week she sent reminder after reminder about her super secret Valentine's Day plans. His responses were always the same:

Ill see if I cn get the day off

Ill try and get the day

Workn on it

Dexter had never been particularly wordy over texts, but the more she seemed to talk about it, the shorter the messages seemed to get.

Was she nagging? Had he ever even asked? Was he even coming?

A soft chill broke through her recurrent worries, forcing her to shake them off and refocus her state of mind. They'd had so much fun together the last few months, and she hadn't enjoyed time with anyone else in years…

In…ever.

He wouldn't have forgotten her. He couldn't have.

Amelia screwed her eyes shut and forced a deep breath. She wouldn't allow those feelings back in. It was too early for that-- too early to give up on love.

She hadn’t noticed the pittering of rolling gravel or the sound of an idling engine until Officer Thanatos’s voice yanked her back into being. Stiffening at his greeting, Amelia wiped her widening eyes and swiftly moved to reshape her bristling quills.

He always looked so nice out of uniform and she sighed out loud when it was clear that her imagination hadn’t played a cruel joke on her.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna come…”

“I told you I was workin’ on it, right?” The lynx haphazardly slammed the door of his patrol car and slipped the keys into the pocket of his jeans. “Well, I did. In fact, I made it so that I got tomorrow off, too. Just you and me, and nobody to suspect a thing…”

He flashed a pearly grin at the pink hedgehog as she bolted over, still not entirely sure what she had planned for the two of them. As free as he usually was and as much as he enjoyed the time she spent doting and admiring his many lovely features, he still had personal tasks to tend to. After all, it was still his job to keep the gangs and violence in check-- whatever that meant.

He felt the corner of his lips twitch at her admission. Him? Unreliable? Never. He’d made more than enough concessions for his pretty little pinky pie. There were pastries uneaten and people unbeaten because of her and those pretty green eyes. If only she knew the things he’d covered up just to keep em’ bright and smiley.

“Pinky pinky. Please. The only reason I’m late is because I had to tie up a loose end.”
For a second he could recall the sound of shuffling ropes and pained yelling in the back of his mind. The smell of seared skin gradually faded as he stepped out into the fresh air.

Ropeburn had a particularly woody smell that tended to stick to the clothes. His timing was off, but only slightly.

“I’m sorry, okay. But now that you got me, what’re you gonna do with me?” He let his voice become something of a purr and held his hands out as if offering them to handcuffs.

Amelia eagerly grabbed them and wound her fingers to lock both sets of palms together. Her emeralds seemed to shine as she stared back into his magenta hues and when he looked back, ‘Dexter’ fidgeted. It was as if she knew exactly how to work her magic.

…Maybe she did.

“Well, I was hoping we could talk… go through the park and just talk.” She began walking backward, pulling him towards the Central Park entrance and away from the car. Something in him itched. Like a fleabite, or a phantom finger on his spine. He felt his fur prickle at the implied danger of her touch, and yet-- following her deliberate steps felt mandatory somehow.

It was a familiar sensation. One he’d grown accustomed to when his uncle’s ore-addled shenanigans were far more entertaining than grunt work with the G.A.T.

They couldn’t be mandatory in any real sense, anyway. He was physically stronger than her, and with all the practice, he could normally resist that weird ore-conscience when it tugged at his inhibitions. If he wanted to, he could rip his hands away without a second thought, get back in his car, and leave whatever deathtrap she’d set out to snare him. It was obvious something was amiss by the way she moved, the way those eyes peered straight through him.

But he didn’t resist her. Why not see what she had in store?

‘Dexter’s’ heavy boots stopped sounding as she led him off the stony trail and into the grassy field beyond it. He could hear her talking, but he preoccupied himself with predictions. The tingling was getting worse the longer they walked-- until it was an omnipresent hum in the back of his skull. It had become a little like white noise as he imagined how much of the ore she’d managed to secretly stockpile for this kind of effect. It was strong. Strong enough for him to notice. Would she ever tell him? He wondered.

“T-this was my favorite spot….”

The lynx snapped out of his trance and set sights on a tiny clearing. Surrounded by a thorny rosebush, it looked set aside for a single person-- maybe two if you squeezed em’ together.

Amelia let one of his hands go but turned her back to take in the full extent of what was once her secret spot.

“But… t-this rosebush wasn’t here before. I used to come to this spot and count flower petals while I thought about my crushes. I used to make wishes on them, hoping that one day I’d meet someone that felt the same way I felt… and then one day, I ran out of flower petals.”

She allowed a nervous chuckle to slip through her story, and finally let his other hand go. She slowly slipped into the ring of roses and stood there as if admiring each one.

“Ooooooh..” ‘Dexter’ internally chimed.

“Mmkay… so when did the flowers come back? You wish for them, too?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the foliage, sensing something ephemeral about it.

Amelia peered over her shoulder and shrugged. “I dunno. I stopped coming after that and when I came back last week, the roses were in full bloom. It’s been years since I’ve been here, so it felt like a sign.”

Another deep breath.

She twirled around and clasped her hands together, facing the lynx beneath those strategically placed streetlamps. His eyes landed on them before falling to the brightly glowing hedgehog. She looked like some kind of beacon standing there.

He took a single step forward-- unconsciously compelled to join her in that stupid circle while every hair of his body bristled in fierce protest.

“Before we go any further… I wanna know if maybe you feel the same way I do.”

Amelia closed her eyes again, bracing herself for heartbreak while quietly praying for the inverse.

“I want something real. And if you don’t….”

‘Dexter’ had a way of being both candid and vague with everything he wanted out of ‘them’ and as deeply as she wanted him to say the words she’d been dying to hear her entire life-- there was always the chance she’d let her imagination run wild again.

She wouldn’t let herself fall so hard for another someone who wouldn’t catch her.

For a moment, there was just silence. The wind from the evening breeze had begun to pick up a little harder after-- rustling the bushes and grasses around her in unison. She heard them, but not much else. The pair had long since slipped away from the stony path and his heavy boots wouldn’t tap on grass.

The only way she’d know his answer, was if he told her, or she opened her eyes and saw him gone.

Instead, her lids fluttered open to the strong smell of roses. Stronger than before. Her vision blurred at the sight of the makeshift bouquet aimed at her, and she unceremoniously dropped at his presentation.

…or she would have, had he not caught her.