• "Do you suppose…" The pondering redhead spoke softly, nestling her head against her boyfriend's chest and contentedly grasping his right fingers in her left hand. Although she seemed heavy in thought, her facial features were contrastingly tranquil and unbothered. "… That there is an alternate reality after death?"

    "Kairi," the blonde-haired boy retaliated in a strained tone, making sure his voice was adjusted to the proper decibel in order to indicate that it deeply troubled him to think of matters such as death. Even at his sudden moodiness, his girlfriend stayed easily calm. It sort of bothered him—in a way. But he managed to answer her strange question, rather skeptically. "No, I don't think anything comes after death. I think—when you're dead, you're dead. And that's it. Everything's over."

    "Oh," Kairi simply breathed, slight disappointment evident in her one-worded reply. With her free hand, she reached up and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. When the gentle breeze released the tucked hair and caused it to brush all over her face, she didn't bother to redo it. Twitching her lips rightward, she ended up asking, "Well—when you die, what colored rose would you want to receive at your funeral?"

    He did not answer.

    "Roxas?"

    After mumbling to himself incoherently, Roxas finally peered down to meet Kairi's inquisitive gaze. "Who says I want roses for my funeral? Who says I want flowers at my funeral?" He paused. "Who says I want a funeral?"

    Kairi laughed. "Sheesh, Roxas, it's just a question." She glanced at her wristwatch, appalled at how late it was getting. She detangled herself from Roxas' half-embrace and pushed herself off the grass. "I guess I should be heading home now." She bent down and kissed him on the forehead before turning around and tromping down the hill.

    Roxas closed his eyes as Kairi's lips met his skin, and when he reopened them a few moments later he only saw the top of his girlfriend's head dipping below the sloped grass. He suddenly scrambled to his feet, rushing to the edge of the hill. He looked down at Kairi's figure and shouted, "Wait!"

    Kairi whirled around, a questioning look on her face, a hand grasping her opposite forearm behind her. "Roxas…?"

    "What—" Roxas wet his lips, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. "What kind of rose would you want for your funeral?"

    Then, a smile graced Kairi's features. She took a step backward before replying. "White," She said—a little too soft, but Roxas was lucky enough to hear. He was about to question her on that decision, but refrained from doing so.

    Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded—more like a nod good-bye. "Alright." He stopped, and added, "I love you, Kairi."

    Kairi cocked her head to the side, her eyes shimmering—before she ran up the hill and seized him in a tightening embrace. She made sure to squeeze the living daylights out of him—she made sure her affection for him was loud and clear. Then she whispered, "I love you, too, Roxas."

    … …

    next day. eight o'clock pm.

    "Nrrgh," a complicated noise sounded from Roxas's throat as he gripped the knife in his hands. A seriously focused expression on his face declared that he had no intention of messing up. This matter was to be done flawlessly. Mistakes were useless and futile. He'd always been making mistakes. He always messed up—on the simplest things, on the easiest of tasks.

    He glared at the knife in his hand and spread the peanut butter over the toast.

    "Roxas? Are you all right? I can hear you from the living room—sounds like you're in pain or something." Kairi appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, looking slightly concerned. That face of concern was immediately replaced with a relatively amused look when she saw he was making a sandwich. "Oh."

    Roxas grinned proudly as he smacked another slice of bread over the peanut butter-layered one. "Finished!" He grabbed the plate with the sandwich, spun around, and pushed it in Kairi's direction, a chuckle stuck in his mouth. "Here you go."

    The soft smile from Kairi's face faded as she noticed what type of sandwich it was. She then proceeded to take a step back, edging away from the threshold. "I… can't eat that." She fiddled with her fingers uncomfortably, looking a little guilty. She averted her eyes quickly, trailing her gaze over her boyfriend's lovely abode.

    "Why not?" Roxas asked, his shoulders slumping, a frown resident on his lips. He stared down at the plate in his hands. And to think how much work he put into this snack! He felt Kairi's warm hand at his elbow, and felt as though he deserved an explanation.

    "I wish I could," Kairi said to him, starting to smile as she laughed gently. Roxas adored her laugh. He couldn't help but smile, but he was still confused. Kairi's hand traveled from his elbow to his shoulder. "You didn't know I was allergic to peanut butter?"

    Roxas' mouth dropped open, dumbfounded. And that's how he felt: downright dumb. How hadn't he known that? They'd been dating for almost a year—and he didn't know she was allergic to peanut butter? How the heck did he go eleven months without being aware of her allergies?

    Kairi laughed again, only softer, and poked at his jaw to shut his mouth. "It's okay," she shrugged, "you didn't know, anyway."

    Then Roxas recovered, feeling the invisible warmth radiating from Kairi's genuine smile. He eyed her affectionately, snatched up the peanut butter sandwich, and took a very big bite. "More for me," he replied stuffily, his eyes bright, his mouth full and his cheeks puffed.

    Kairi decided: he couldn't look cuter.

    … …

    eleven o'clock pm.

    "Kai…" Roxas leaned over and pressed his mouth to Kairi's, kissing her wholeheartedly, passionately. He reached down and entangled his hands in her magenta-sanguine hair, savoring its silken texture against his fingers. His opposite arm rounded her petite waist, almost fragile waist. His fingers left her hair and trailed down her cheek, brushing sweetly against the base of her neck.

    Kairi responded with her own fervent movements, deepening the kiss, her right hand snug against his chest. Her other hand cradled the area around his jaw and collarbone, gently touching his soft, pale skin. Her eyes were shut tight, her heart running a marathon, tantalizing shivers running down her spine. His hand at her waist caused her to feel nothing but safe.

    As long as she was with him, she was safe.

    … …

    eleven twenty-two pm.
    Spinning… spinning… whirling…

    Kairi had a sudden feeling of lightheaded, and it felt as though everything were twirling around her. Her feet felt numb, and as she took a step forward, her toes curled and she fell to the carpet with a light thud. She struggled to keep her eyes open, now wondering why Roxas had four legs.

    "Kairi! Kairi—" Roxas dropped to his knees, carefully lifting the back of Kairi's head so he could look her in the eyes. Her eyes—her practically translucent blue eyes—they looked so empty at the moment. "Are you—what's wrong?"

    Kairi did not reply. She stared back at Roxas, her eyes half-mast, words unable to pass her lips. She opened her mouth, and when nothing came out, she closed it. Her eyelids grew heavier… heavier… closing… her breathing was uneven, ragged—almost like she was having an asthma attack. Her muscles tensed, her pupils dilated… then her eyes closed, but her breaths remained violently suppressed.

    Being careful not to harm her body against his bent legs, Roxas dug for his cell phone within the depths of his pocket. When he found it, he drew in a long, difficult breath—trying to steady his reverberating, drumming heart—and dialed 911.

    … …

    next week. seven o'clock am.

    Roxas reached up and thrashed at his eyes with a sleeve. His blonde, jagged hair moved slightly in the early morning breeze. It was not that pleasant sort of morning breeze. The wet grass beneath him stained his black shoes with streaks of dampness. He fingered a stem in his numb hands. The frigid air swirled around him, almost mocking him because of his lack of warmth.

    His warmth was gone.

    "Kairi—"

    Roxas could not bring himself to speak anymore. He was only here to do one thing and one thing only. Now that Kairi was gone, he could only do what she would have wanted him to. This was what she preferred—what she wanted… for her funeral. Because one must have flowers at their funeral… so that the people who had loved the deceased could somehow show their unwavering love for that person… to reassure the spirit that they would always, always be in their heart.

    "Always in my heart."

    Roxas swallowed hard, and with a flick of his wrist he dropped something against Kairi's lowering coffin.

    There, against the glossy mahogany, stood out a different flower from all the others.

    There, trickled and twinkling with sweet dew, was a single white rose.

    … …

    previous weekend. twelve thirty-seven pm.

    "Mr…"

    "Roxas," the blonde shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to make eye contact with the doctor. His face was undeniably heartbroken—his whole demeanor reflected a personality that of a dejected and saddened person. "You can just call me Roxas."

    "All right, Roxas," the doctor exhaled, toying listlessly with the clasp on his clipboard. "Are you aware of a hypersensitivity such as anaphylaxis?"

    Are you aware of speaking English? Roxas thought, but only delivered the doctor a puzzled look.

    "I supposed not." The doctor sighed again, straightening his posture, looking sternly at Roxas as he launched into explanation.
    "Anaphylaxis is a term used when someone has a severe, allergic reaction to, well, their allergies. It is very fatal, no matter what the allergy. I think you may have known that your girlfriend was allergic to peanut butter, but perhaps you were unaware of the severity of that certain allergy was."

    Roxas lifted his head and stared.

    "It was a strong allergy, the peanut butter. Even slight exposure to it could harm her. But we both know she did not eat anything of peanut butter that day." Leaning forward, the doctor finally locked eyes with Roxas. "I'm going to ask you a personal question, and I'm going to need you to answer it."

    Roxas hesitated, and then slowly nodded.

    "The night Kairi fell ill, did you kiss her?"

    Looking away, Roxas nodded once more, an engrossed feeling developing in the pit of his stomach.

    "Maybe, you ate something related to peanut butter before that kiss ensued?"

    Roxas closed his eyes. "Y-yes," his voice cracked weakly.

    "Very well." The doctor scanned the content of the papers stuck to his clipboard and stood up. "That is why your girlfriend is dead."

    … …

    present. seven-twelve am.

    "I'm sorry, Kairi." Roxas turned around, walking in the opposite direction, slowly. He couldn't bear to watch the coffin descend any lower. He drowned out the mourning cries from his hearing. He was even surprised Kairi's family still gave consent for him to attend the funeral—considering the circumstances. Roxas kept walking, completely unaware of his destination.

    He just wanted to get away.

    He looked down at his bleeding palms, where the thorns on the stem of the white rose had pierced into his soft skin. He didn't bother wiping the blood off. Kairi had not shed any blood in her death. The least I could do is shed some blood of my own… suddenly, the land seemed to ascend, and Roxas soon found himself at the top of a hill. It was the same hill he and Kairi had been talking at that day she asked him what kind of rose he would have wanted for his funeral.

    But he couldn't tell her now. She was gone. She would never, ever know what colored rose he would have preferred at his funeral. Kairi would never, ever be able to come to his funeral. She wasn't here anymore. It was like he sent her away.

    All because of a kiss.

    All because he wanted to show how much he loved her.

    And that single passionate kiss resulted in her sudden death.

    Then Roxas decided: he didn't care about what kind of rose he would want for his death—because the only person who he would want the flower from… wouldn't be there.

    Roxas did this to himself—he did this to Kairi—and he forced himself to accept that. He had to live with it for the rest of his life.

    …

    Something soft pressed lovingly against Roxas' forehead.

    But, perhaps… he'd change his mind—that after death, there truly was an alternate reality.

    Something in the wind whispered to him… "I love you, too, Roxas."

    THE END.