chaelaurent's book of drafts & drabbles

The Sea Of Hope // To The Beautiful You

Rosé x Female Reader

Roseanne, a florist that enjoys perfumes and flowers. She's the new person on the block that owns a flower shop on the sea-side, and on the weekends, she's paid to perform for guests at a restaurant. Sometimes inside, and other times out on the beach.

Y/N, an award-winning potter/ceramist. She enjoys sculpting, writing, and listening to music. People come to her shop to buy pieces and take lessons for learning pottery. One thing, she's visually impaired/almost completely blind. She's been like that for most of her life, it started when she was sixteen and only got progressively worse from there. There was an option for eye surgery, but it was too expensive, and in the end Y/N agreed to live her life this way. ("I didn't agree. I had no other choice. God chose this path for me, who am I to argue with Him?")

- "you use touch to sculpt, make pottery, and a write. You use sound to listen to music, people talking, and the waves that crash nearby on the shore. You use taste to eat good food, drink savoury wine, and to passionately kiss a lover. But you're forgetting that there is also smell. The scent of the flowers that bloom, the salty spray by the sea, and especially, the scent of a lover."

- y/n makes it a habit to go to Roseanne's flower shop once a week. There, another young woman (Rosé) helps y/n to smell the flowers and touch their petals.
- y/n eventually starts finding excuses to attend. "Oh, my cousin is getting engaged."
"Oh, my best friend just received a new promotion at work."
"It's my mother's birthday."
And every time Y/N attended, she felt herself become more drawn to Roseanne than ever. She couldn't help it.

•••

"Oh, be careful Y/N!" Roseanne cried.

Her projected voice carried throughout the area and then was lost in the distant blowing winds. My heart skipped a beat. I froze in my tracks and turned right to face the general direction of her voice.

Be careful? What did she mean? It must have been dangerous if she had to stop in the middle of her performance. I felt a burning sensation flood my cheeks as I reached out with my walking stick, no one was speaking a word. I let the tip sink into the sand, just enough so that an effort was needed to drag it, and explored the area to my left... until I couldn't. All of a sudden, this extension of my body was free falling for a split-second. I caught the motion before it moved any further and found myself floating in mid-air. There was nothing in front of me. No surface for me to feel stabilized on this ginormous rock roaming through space.

Her familiar scent hit me before anything else. Delicate fingertips traced along my arm until I felt them give a firm squeeze.

"Y/N,' Roseanne's voice now projected next to my ear, sending a shiver throughout my nerves. 'Don't step any further, okay? Come with me." I turned to where she was pulling my arm.

"Wha-what was in front of me?" I asked.

"The pit. You almost fell into the pit."

"Oh..."

Roseanne began walking us. "Come,' she continued. 'You wanna leave now?"

"But your performance— you were still singing."

"That's alright. It was my final song of the night, anyway."