The man with a rose

(A not very conventionnal love story.)


I know a guy
Actually, no.
I don't really know him.
But it's such as I did.
Well, actually, not either.
I don't know how to say.
Aniway, there's a guy.
In my college, the guy.
That's why I know him, at the way.
Well, I don't know him, but...
This guy is weird.
Really weird.
But he's nice.
I like him.
I'll try to describe him a little.
I don't know a lot about him.
He's quite tall...
He has a leather jacket
A black jacket.
And very worn.
It's a long jacket, like gothic people's ones.
It stops below the guy's knees.
rather worn, but it hasn't got any importance.
I like this jacket.
And this guy too.
He also has a hat.
A black hat.
And long hair.
Blond hair.
golden blond.
This makes a nice contrast.
They are very straight.
That looks a bit cold, like a corpse.
But except that, they are beautiful.
They fall in the middle of his back.
They go very well with his eyes.
Beautiful light brown eyes.
With a kind of drawings in the pupil.
He's a bit tan-skinned.
He's beautiful.
Very beautiful.
It's a bit weak to describe him.
And he's nice, too.
But not very talkative.
I don't know how old he is, in fact.
'Think nobody knows.
Nobody knows anything about him.
I don't think there is someone knowing his name.
'Don't think...
So, he must be 17 or 18.
And he's seen passing.
Just passing.
That's everything he does.
To pass.
Nobody knows where he goes.
Or what he is doing here either.
Sometimes, he's got a rose.
On his hat.
A red rose.
Always red.
That's pretty.
And romantic.
Sometimes he comes to us.
'Says hello, kids a little.
And leaves.
In fact, he passes.
He's just passing.
Sometimes without his rose.
Sometimes with.
Nobody has ever had enough gut to ask him:
"Why do you have this rose?"
"What's your name?"
Or either:
"But... How old are you?"
I did ask him a question.
We don't know in what class he is.
I don't know anyone who knows that.
I said:
That was just at the end of the lunchtime.
"What do you have?" I said.
I was talking about what lesson, of course.
He said:
"A lesson"
Very logic, isn't it?
So I rose and I said:
"What lesson?"
And he said:
"A lesson."
And he left.
Well, in fact, he passed.
'Doesn't talk very much.
But everyone likes him.
I think he's romantic.
With his rose.
It must be to symbolise love.
I'm sure he goes to see a lover.
When he passes.
He 's going to see his lover.
And when he passes again.
He's going to buy a rose.
For his lover.
I'm quite sure it's that.
'Not me who thought to the lover first.
It's Lucy.
I was talikng to Lucy the other day.
You can chat about it with her, if you want.
She would like to kiss him.
I guess most of the girls in the highschool too.
Just look at them.
But he is not talkative at all.
Even distant when he's not kidding with us.
Even then, he just says a few words.
And goes.
Well... passes.
But he doesn't look miserable.
He even looks happy.
When he comes talking with us.
And when we come talking with him.
He answers, he's not that kind of distant.
He's distant in an other way.
As if he wasn't really with us.
Not concerned would be the right words.
Sometimes, he leaves although we are chatting with him.
Well... I say "chatting"...
We mustn't have ever had a discussion of more than five words with him.
However, we know he likes us.
'Can be seen in his eyes.
He likes when we come talking with him.
Today, he hasn't got a rose.
He came kidding a few moments ago.
He came, said hello, told a joke.
I don't know what joke, I wasn't here.
Quentin was here, I'll ask him.
Then, he left...
...Left to see a girl, I met her few days ago.
I love her, passionately
I always love them passionately.
This one, I came to her a week ago.
We chatted a little.
I seducted her.
I can seduce girls easily.
How I love her!
More than everything else.
And how I love this moment.
I invited her to a date.
As each time.
In the little lane behind the pub.
As each time.
It is an old place.
It is very picturesque.
And very quiet.
All the houses are deserted.
And the pub too.
And the river can be seen very well.
The moment came.
I closed my jacket.
As every times.
I came in the lane.
She was here.
So gorgeous.
What a weak word!
She loves me too.
I know it now.
I can't describe the intensity of my love.
How to make it feeling by anybody except them.
I came right to her.
I told her:
"I love you."
I told you that my love.
I said: "I love you."
Just that.
Then, the moment itself came.
Your face came closer to mine.
Your mouth to mine.
That's the moment.
My tongue penetrated your mouth as my love penetrated your heart.
As passionately, as ardently.
This feeling, strong enough to pierce our hearts.
As a knife.
I love you...
My love...
Our kiss is now over.
The moment is over.
Your body loosens.
You're drawing your terminal breath in my arms.
So I carry you in the house on the right.
In the bedroom, at the second floor.
The smell grips me, but I don't care.
I love you.
I love you all.
I lay you down in one of the many beds in the room.
They have always been here.
For you.
There are still several empty beds.
Then I come down.
My jacket is sticky.
The so beautiful, so precious liquid of the life spilled on it.
As every times.
I come down on the little ladder to the river bank.
I use the water of the river to wash the jacket.
Human beings, nature, love...
Love is beautifull.
I come back in the deserted lane.
A little liquid is on the floor.
This so beautiful, so precious liquid.
As every times.
Nobody will see this.
You will be left alone.
Later, I will buy a rose.
As every times.
A red rose.
Always red.

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