The Yakuza's flower

Ume's POV

I woke up feeling a little suffocated. When I opened my eyes, I realized why—Hanayama had shifted in his sleep, his heavy arm draped over me. It wasn't unbearable, but it did press down on me enough to stir me awake.

Carefully, I tried to slip out of his hold, but my movement must have disturbed him. He groaned sleepily, his grip loosening just enough for me to move.

"Hey, I have to use the bathroom, handsome," I whispered softly. "Let me up, please."

He made a low, sleepy grunt in acknowledgment and shifted his weight, allowing me to slip free. I grabbed my essentials bag and quietly made my way to the bathroom.

Inside, I flicked on the light and looked at myself in the mirror.

My breath caught in my throat.

Hickeys. Bite marks. Bruises. They were scattered across my skin, a stark reminder of our nights here.

I felt my heart start to pound.

Before I could stop it, my eyes welled up.
No. No, not now.

I fumbled with my bag, hands shaking as I pulled out my pills. Quickly, I swallowed them, trying to steady myself. But the sinking feeling was already there, creeping up my spine like a shadow.

I don't know why I started crying.
I turned on the faucet, letting the sound of running water drown out my quiet sobs.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.
I'm not dirty. I'm not a... slut.
The thoughts wrapped around me like chains, dragging me deeper.

I hugged myself tightly, trying to ground myself, to remind myself I was safe. That I wasn't where I used to be.

A knock at the door made me flinch.

"Ume..." Hanayama's deep voice called from the other side.

I swallowed hard. "H-Hanayama..." I mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear.

The door creaked open, and I instinctively tensed. My heartbeat quickened as he stepped inside, his massive frame taking up so much space that the small bathroom suddenly felt even smaller.
His sharp eyes scanned my face. Even in his half-asleep state, he noticed something was off.

"Hey, what's up?" I forced a small smile, hoping to shake the tension away.

His brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, why?" I deflected.

He stepped closer, hesitating for only a moment before raising his hand to my cheek, brushing his thumb against my skin. I flinched. Just slightly. But it was enough.

His hand froze midair, eyes widening slightly—only for a fraction of a second, but I caught it.

"Did I...?" His voice was quiet, uncertain. "Did I hurt you?"

My heart clenched.

"No! No, Hanayama, I promise it's not that," I said quickly, shaking my head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
His eyes searched mine, dark and unreadable, yet there was something in them—concern, confusion. He wasn't used to seeing me like this.

Not knowing what else to do, I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his torso and pressing myself against him. His body tensed for just a second before his arms came around me, encasing me in his warmth.

For a moment, he just stood there, holding me in silence. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rested his chin on top of my head.

"Then what is it?" he finally asked.
"I don't want to talk about it... not now."