I realize I have serioulsy been sucking at updating lately, and I apologize. DX I'm still working on the requests, and I'm hoping to post some more really soon! :D

For now, here's a one-shot I wrote based on one of the prompts I found on "otpprompts" on tumblr. 

I'm so sorry. I had to.

Has it really been seventy years? I asked myself as I looked down at the beautiful bouquet of roses awaiting me on the kitchen table. Every day since our marriage seventy years ago, my husband had bought me a rose. Never once had he missed a day—even when he was away on a job. The roses always found me, or they would be waiting for me when I got home from my own assignments.

“Gajeel,” I smiled, going to my now gray-haired husband. “I see you found blue ones this year.”

“I thought it’d be a nice change from yellow,” he grinned.

He coughed a little as he stood up, and I frowned. “Are you alright, my love?” I asked. His face was unusually pale, and he looked tired.

“Fine,” he chuckled. “Just a cold. I’m a dragon slayer, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“But you’re also old,” I teased, laughing when he scowled.

“Are we meeting Salamander and blondie for lunch?” Gajeel asked.

“And the kids,” I nodded. For our anniversary, we were having a large get-together at the guild with all of our children and grandchildren (and even great-grandchildren).

“We certainly are old, aren’t we?” I chuckled to Gajeel as I made my way to the closet to get my jacket. I turned when I heard a thump, and gasped. “Gajeel!”

Immediately, I went to him, grabbing a communication lacrima and calling our youngest daughter.

“Hey mom!” She smiled, her red eyes shining brightly as she pulled back a mess of blue hair. “What’s up?”

“Your father’s ill,” I said, hurriedly, not liking the way Gajeel’s face was beginning to pale. “Come quickly.”

Within twenty minutes, we were checked into the hospital, and Gajeel had been taken back. “He’s going to be alright,” Lucy said, holding onto my hand in comfort. They had arrived a few minutes before, and I was thankful for the presence of my best friend. Somewhere deep inside, I knew Gajeel wasn’t going to be alright, but I forced myself to think positively.

“Mrs. Redfox?” A woman asked, a grim look on her face as I stood up.

“How is he?”

“Honestly,” she sighed, apologetically, “not good, Mrs. Redfox. The best we can do is make him comfortable until he passes.”

I felt my knees give out, but didn’t have the strength to try to catch myself. “Whoa there,” my oldest grandson said, wrapping his arms around me. “Grandpa Natsu, Grandma Lucy, I’m taking granny back to see Grandpa Gajeel.”

“Don’t cry, child,” I found myself saying when I looked up and saw tears leaking from his red eyes. His blonde hair was still messy from where he had been called out of bed, and seeing tears on his sleepy face made my heart ache.

“Yeah,” he nodded, wiping his face. He stopped outside of Gajeel’s room, letting go of me. “I’m going to wait out here,” he told me.

I nodded, slowly going inside. When I saw Gajeel, my chest ached, and I had to sit down. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” I asked, feeling tears sting my eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, weakly. He coughed hard, then took a long breath, closing his eyes. “I know how you worry about me.”

“Of course I do,” I whispered. “I love you, Gajeel.”

“Hey,” he said, opening his eyes and grabbing my shaking hand, “don’t cry, Shrimp.”

I smiled at the old nickname. “Don’t leave, then,” I pleaded, the tears escaping to roll down my wrinkled face.

“Never,” he grinned. “I’d never leave you.”

“But you’re going to,” I cried, tightening my grip on his hand.

“I’m just dyin’,” he said, coughing again. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Do you love me?” He asked, smiling.

“You know I do, you big idiot,” I cried, returning his smile.

“Then I’ll always be with you.” He took another deep breath, and closed his eyes again. “I love you, Shrimp. I have for as long as I can remember. Even when I was a stubborn kid, looking for something to believe in, you have always been there. I couldn’t have asked for a better life than the one you gave me.”

A sob escaped me, and he peeked at me from under a tired-looking lid. “Come on, Shrimp, give me a smile. I’d like to go out with that as my last image. I’ll never be able to find peace if I know you were crying.”

With a small nod, I gave him my brightest smile. It was the same smile I had given him all those years ago when I told him I had forgiven him for what he had done during the war with Phantom Lord. I had loved him since that first smile, and I knew I would always love him. I didn’t think I would stop loving him even when I died.

“Gihi, there’s my Shrimp,” he chuckled, his eyes falling closed.

“Gajeel?” I asked after a moment.

“Hm?” He asked, weekly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Shrimp.”

I held his hand until his chest stilled, then allowed myself to cry. I laid my head on his bed and clutched his hand, allowing all of my sadness to soak the sheets beside him. “I love you, Gajeel. Thank you.”

The next three days were the hardest of my life. Gajeel had made all of the arrangements secretly, so his funeral and will were all taken care of.

As I sat alone at our kitchen table the morning after the funeral, I picked up the blue rose that had arrived that morning. “Love Always, Gajeel,” the tag had said. One had arrived each of the three days before as well, but I hadn’t had the time—or the heart—to call the florist.

Knowing that sitting in the empty house would make things worse, I put on my coat and headed to the small flower shop only a block away.

“Good morning, Mrs. Redfox,” the florist smiled, though I could see how sad he looked. “I’m so sorry about Gajeel.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“What can I get for you today?” He asked.

“I’ve come about the roses,” I told him, clutching the newest one against my chest. “I think there may have been a mix-up, because I’m still receiving them.”

He smiled again. “I thought that might have been the reason.”

“Sorry?” I asked, confused.

“Gajeel made arrangements with me a few years ago, in case anything ever happened to him. He told me that, should he go before you, I’m to continue delivering the roses until you follow him. He’s has been such a loyal customer, buying flowers every day for the last seventy years, that I told him I’d do it for free. I know how much those roses mean to the both of you, so it was a pleasure to do it. He wanted to make sure you were never alone. And he wanted me to tell you that every time you get a rose, he’s sending you his love.”

I couldn’t respond. The tears I had shed over the last three days I thought had been all I could shed, but more appeared as I clutched the rose even tighter against me. “Thank you,” I cried.

Gajeel, thank you.