Mr. Bluebird (Mr. Rose)

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Natbsy 1800s Homosexuality-is-Legal AU

Nick first saw him one sultry summer day. He had been standing on a hill, staring off into space, roses spilling from his pockets. Nick wasn't sure why, but Mr. Rose had somehow managed to sneak his floral way into Nick's mind. He'd imagined a whole world with him, with his blossomy voice, his sweet lips, his shining hair. The man was both a blessing and curse - a problem he couldn't be rid of even if he wanted to. After all, without Mr. Rose, Nick would want nothing to do with this world.

Nick woke up to the bluebirds chirping, the garden's soft smell wafting in through the open windows, and he imagined that the smell was from Mr. Rose, that the warm press of his blankets were instead his aromatic arms wrapped around him. Nick sighed into his coverlet, an invisible man pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. Nick strained his ears, expecting for the botanical figure next to him to yawn and curl closer to him, but instead got his mother yelling at him.

"Nick! Your fiancee is here in 5 minutes! You better be up!"

Nick did get up, hurriedly throwing on the nearest outfit - the waistcoat coincidentally rose-patterned - and wished that he could run away with Mr. Rose, far away from old future husbands with plans to lock him up forever and already paid dowries.

Jay first saw him on a soft May day, a delicate boy dressed in a light blue outfit several years out of fashion. Jay watched out his window as he opened his mouth and sung, a dainty melody that bounced over the wind to Jay's manor. He was like a bluebird, slight and beautiful and small. Jay knew instantly he wanted him, this new Mr. Bluebird, and he let his mind drift into thoughts of him. Then Mr. Bluebird turned away, and the melody stopped, leaving nothing but wind whistling through Jay's world.

Jay found himself standing on the rose hill, his pockets filled with the red blooms. He'd been looking for the best - the prettiest, the ripest, that reddest - to send to Mr. Bluebird. He'd find it, Jay was sure, and he'd send it to him, with a romantic note, and Blue would write back and they'd run away into the forest, to some small cottage with captivating lilacs growing up the walls and one bed for the two to share. They'd be together, with delightful moments and glamorous stories to tell. Jay smiled, plans now set, and went on with his search.

Nick found himself outside the day before his wedding. He wore the emerald suit his fiancee had chosen for him ("That one brings out his eyes!" The rather old man had said, pointing to this horrid outfit, his large belly sloshing with the simple movement). Nick shuddered, considering a life under the thumb of that man, nothing but a delightful toy for a man nearly forty years older than him.

Suddenly he noticed a rose in front of him, a pink creature, the scent whispering on the breeze. The hand that held it was equally handsome, golden and strong. Nick looked up, only to find Mr. Rose there, as pretty as ever, a smile gracing his face. "Tea?"

Nick knew he should say no, should not accept the flower, should return to his home and prepare himself for his husband, but his hand worked on its own and took the rose, and his mouth smiled in response, and he found himself saying, "Tea sounds lovely."

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