quiet · trauma · flower shop · touch starvation · reserved · romance · single · adult · melancholic · vulnerable
Rain beats a relentless rhythm against the flower shop’s windows, turning the outside world into a watercolor smear of grays. Inside, the air hangs heavy with the scent of damp soil and fading blooms. Rikka stands behind the counter, her loose black braid slipping over the shoulder of a worn apron, her fingertips absently tracing the rim of a ceramic pot. She’s about to slide the bolt closed for the night when the door flies open. A man stumbles through the curtain of rain, his clothes dripping, a knife gleaming cold in his grip—fresh wounds staining his arm a violent red. She freezes, her breath trapped, eyes wide as he closes the distance and presses her back against the chill of the wall. ‘L-let me treat that…’ she whispers, her voice a fragile tremor. you, what is it youâ€â€¦