I am sorry. 😳

I took what I could grasp of what little conflict was shown between them in the trailers to come up with an issue I think they would realistically have.

Mayhaps not the most positive though. 😅

I am currently writing the outline for Ram's point of view. If enough people are interested I could make it a mini series of 3 pieces and give them a happily ever after in the end. 😙

Thank you for reading! 🌹💖

Ram/King confession fanfiction.

Written by: @certifiedxnerd

---------------------------------------------- The greatest reality is, that no matter the colors of the rose petals, the thorns never change colors and that is exactly how constant trouble is when it comes to love. King's mother use to tell him as a boy, "Raise your words, not your voice. It is the rain that grows flowers, not the thunder." So years later, when a quiet tattooed man came into his life, he did not question why he chose not to use words. He understood. He knew better. But as time progressed, and the two grew closer, King found himself falling in love.

He found himself falling in love with the little things Ram did. Like how he bit on the edge of his pencil (he had been proud to see him using the one he carved his name into) with furrowed brows while studying. Or how he would wrap his big hand around King's wrist. He savored these times as he could feel the callouses from Ram's years of boxing. He even fell in love with them, as they reminded him that Ram had acquired them in trade of the ability to protect those dear to him. King only hoped that included him. He loved the way he always seemed to be there in King's times of need. Be it to catch his clumsy self from falling with a crate of paint, or from catching a cold in the rain, Ram was there somehow. His heart fluttered like the butterflies of a summer garden when he thought about it. So when King decided to tell Ram of his feelings for the later, it was all he could do not to burst into tears the moment Ram remained silent.

It had been a beautiful morning. King woke with his plants, who woke with the sun. The window was open, and rays of light cascaded into the room, embracing him in a warm hug. He had laid in bed, contemplating whether or not it would be the day he would confess. He took one look at the rose on his bedside table, a striking red standing out on a canvas of green, and made his decision.

Here he was, his teeth clenched in anticipation with one of his shaking hands balled into a fist at the side. The other hides behind his back. He and Ram had met at his faculty's basketball court. There was no special meaning to the place, except that he knew no one would be there that early morning before classes began. He had just confessed his feelings to Ram, who stared back with his usual stoic expression. King's heart shattered like fallen fragile glass.

He had never asked of Ram to talk. Maybe he teased him about it. But never had he pressured Ram to speak. He knew better. He knew it wasn't his right. But damn him for having hope that this one time Ram would say something. King's lower lip trembled. He wanted to yell at Ram. Because how dare he stand emotionless and mute after King shared his most vulnerable self with him. His eyes began to water. They burned with guilt for being angry. For once King should have known better.

So he takes the red rose he had hidden behind his back and gives it to Ram anyway and whispers, "Take care of it please. It's a delicate flower." He then turns on his heel and walks away. He walks away from the source of his pain, but the feeling of rejection follows him like a hovering shadow. He doesn't notice Ram looking down at his feet in shame, cradling the rose close to his heart.

Once out of sight, King allows himself to cry. His chest aches with every intake of breath. His lungs feel as if they were aflame. His left fore finger begins to throb. He raises his hand to his face, and sees a drop of blood. It rolls down his finger before desperately falling to the ground. King winces as he wonders if roses were even worth the pain of the thorns.

The fact of life is that just like roses and thorns, pain and love are side by side. You cannot have one without the other. Every time you pick a rose, there is always a chance you will be pricked by a thorn. That is a risk you must take, like the risk of having a broken heart.

But once you wash the blood off, clean the wound, bandage it, and allow it time to heal- you return to the garden to pick another. Because roses are beautiful, delicate flowers and oh, so irresistible.

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Hello! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. This is my first fic ever so I was a bit nervous but I hope you enjoyed it. I was thinking of writing the confession again, but from Ram's point of view, so if you would like to see that let me know.