Oneshot Collection

The Steps To Grow A Rose: Keefitz

I wrote a poem in english class and it turned into this. Sorry in advance-

I basically wrote Fitz being. uhhhh angst? The poem is in italics

Alden being a bad father for 1309 words. Enjoy.

TW: forced outing, homophobia, blood mention, manipulation (?)

Step one: find a plot of soil

"Fitz!" The word rang through the hall, and the little boy turned to greet it, a smile already gracing his face.

Fingers gripped his cheeks, turning him this way and that, studying him.

"Good smile," his father told him. "Keep it."

Step two: clear away the faults, the rocks, the blemishes, all the imperfections that no one ever likes

Dread cooled in the pit of Fitz's stomach as his father scanned his body. He'd forgotten... but surely Alden wouldn't notice?

"Did you forget to iron your clothes this morning?" Alden asked, his voice soft. "There is a wrinkle on your tunic. And if I noticed, you know the rest will."

"But you were looking really hard," Fitz mumbled under his breath. "Maybe other people won't notice."

"You must strive for perfection, Fitz," his father reminded him. "Anything less cannot be permitted."

The young boy nodded, tucking his protests under his skin, into the back of his mind. He would never speak them. He was already learning to hold his tongue.

He would be the perfect son.

Step three: plant a seed. Cover it over with that perfect soil that has been raked over and over to eradicate all the imperfections that no one ever likes

Fitz resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, instead running his hand gently against the side to smooth his careful style. He straightened his clothes, smoothing out all the wrinkles.

He fixed his smile on his face.

He had a good smile.

Alden beamed at him as he came down the stairs. "Good job, Fitz. What are your grades?"

"One hundreds in every class," he told him, keeping that bright smile on his face. "Top of the level."

His father nodded, a pleased look on his face. "Good."

Good. Fitz was always good.

When would he be great?

When he was perfect. He could be perfect. The perfect student, the perfect son.

Step four: wait for a rose to grow. It will come slowly through that perfect dirt, the soil that has been compressed and weeded until it doesn't remember how to feed that rosebud that peeks through the ground

"I won!" Fitz called, waiting for that smile to appear on Alden's face. Waiting for the approval that would come to greet him.

But there was a frown. "Only by one point."

His enthusiasm withered.

"I still..." Suddenly, Fitz was a child again. "I still won." His voice was so small. He wished he could learn how to make it strong.

He was too artificial to be strong. Too fake to be steady. Too false to be perfect.

"Next time, do better, okay?" There was the smile, but the warmth was gone from it.