2P!Prussia X Reader: A Written Vow

    He signed his name on an elegant card with lace trim, and hand-crafted roses that protruded out from the card-stock folds with a starchy fabric he could not place. The colourful design of rosy pink, tangerine, and cinnamon brown was a classy look he could not blink an eye to without swallowing hard to himself, and praying that she would be any less appealed by the colour choices.

    If, perhaps, she was so shallow as to not look past its design and into the heart-spoken words woven together by an unimaginable force of imagination that still swelled Gilbert's mind with a brutal desire to have the being he admired most in his less-than-appreciative world, then he would forget (Name) and move on with much heart ache if he had to do so with shame.

    (Name) was a luxurious beauty; her eyes were like candle-lit wicks that were lit to light up an entire room, and stay glowing for days on end in the still of a silent room. She was the center of attention with an ideal, womanly frame that people could call whatever they chose to, but labels did not affect her one tinsy bit. Gil adored her hair in gorgeous locks whether short or long, such rich colour, (Hair Colour), and beckoning for a hand to be run through its delicate strands.

    Gilbert looked at his shameful display of a signature with the designed, cursive curves and swirls making him feel nauseous and uneasy about the object he signed. It read only the kindest things he could muster from his heart- pictures peeking from the very edge of the paper that he couldn't bear to tuck away in fear she would not open the card if she did not. If he professed his love to (Name), and she were to deny, let her relive the times they had shared together in peace and the romance they had spent so long building up by being only the best of friends.

     She was his core. A sturdy girl that protected him with a brick wall of words and kindness that could shield the bullied boy from dangerous and toxic insults thrown out by anyone wishing to harass him. As to why they wasted time bothering and beating him, he was not aware, but he could be assured that after much time of hiding that words could hurt just as much as sticks and stones.

    There was a scar on his palm; it was long, white from his sallow skin, and fading from the years it had been since the day it had been a fresh laceration- that was so long ago that Gilbert could say it was just a memory, but his every scar had a story. That particular scar was a fight meant to break loose, a binding pain that had been an iron grasp on his shoulder, and a push from behind that sent him collapsing into the wall painfully and digging the flat of his hand onto the surface of a jagged board. It was a faded scar, and he saw no sort of reason behind conjuring the thought of it then, but, maybe, his reasoning was beyond just seeing some scar that brought back his bullied days.

    Ah, yes. His scars that were emotionless marks on his body were nothing but a loss of socialization, while others, such as the one wrapped about his thumb, were something he could look and freeze with a dusting blush.

    A thorn from picking roses can leave a greater mark than any bully ever could if it meant the rose, now perched in his love's card, would be all the more worth it.

    He was to give her the card, be flustered as ever, because he most certainly would be, and to request they be together before his heart would burst in all its jolting excitement that taunted his mind with brainless, almost zombified, motions. He carried the card under one arm, and the rose in the other as his pale, red eyes never left the tiled floor in hopes that she would not meet his gaze any sooner than possible. Otherwise, he would vomit in nervousness from the way his stomach dreadfully felt!

    "Gilbert," (Name) murmured in slight joy as her best friend approached cautiously, and with a pale face that she noted immediately, but chose to  not discuss. "What brings you over here?"

    "C-can you read this card?" He stuttered, flushed in the face as he shoved the card into her palm reluctantly, and shifted away from facing her. "It's i-important...but-but, read it when I walk away!"

    Such a silly boy he could be, but (Name) fluidly nodded and waved him off silently with a smile as she was anxious to read his message. The message that would later be the same message written by her own hand on a vow she would never forget.