𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄

ʚ𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕ɞ

I woke up to the usual sound of branches hitting my window and rays of sunlight peeking in through my blinds. I close my eyes tightly before adjusting to the newfound brightness. I sit up on my bed and see I'm still in the same clothes I wore yesterday.

Yesterday.

"I want you. I want happiness with you, no one else." His words replay over in my mind, like a broken record player, playing the same beautiful song over and over again. I remember how I felt last night. Like a huge weight of insecurity and fear that once laid heavy on my shoulders was lifted through the reassurance of his words.

He wasn't going to leave, he couldn't. He promised. I look over at my alarm clock and see that it's 11am and I slept in, I don't remember falling asleep or even getting into bed but I shrug it off and blame tiredness for my lack of memory and head downstairs to make breakfast.

I reach the kitchen and audibly gasp when I see a large bouquet perched on top of the counter. I rush over and fawn over the flowers in front of me. There's a complete mix of different types and different colours but the common denominator is their beauty. They're all vibrant and full, their peak bloom reached, showcasing their mesmerizing finality. No one has ever bought me flowers before.

My hand reaches for the bouquet, lazily dragging my fingers along the petals and stems of each individual flower until they hit a card. I grasp the card eagerly, dying to know what's written and who they're from. I raise the card closer to my face and it reads;

"If only I could buy you infinite flowers, one for each day to prove my commitment to my promise, I'm not leaving you Y/n. You're stuck with me until the last flower dies."
- Megumi.

P.S. check the centre of the bouquet ;)

"I fight the smile on my face as I follow the instruction on the card, Gently prying through the flowers I reach the centre and pull out the one that sits there. It's heavy. Upon inspection it's obvious that it's not a normal flower, it's not real, it's not going to grow. But it's also not going to  die.

It's made of glass.

I almost drop the damn thing when I understand the symbolism between his words and the so called flower in my hands.

"You're stuck with me until the last flower dies."

But the last flower isn't going to die, it physically cant. I unravel the remaining flowers from their packaging and place them in an empty vase in the centre of the table, creating an eye catching centrepiece that will probably only be seen by myself.

As I open the trash to throw away the packaging I sigh at what I see. Laying at the bottom, an empty pack of cigarettes and what looks like remnants of ash. Initially when we met he continued to smoke in my presence, not as often as he would have usually, but he continued nonetheless.