Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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Alexine's apartment was shrouded in an unusual silence, the hum of her work's ticking clock the only sound breaking the stillness. The two-day silence between her and Benjamin had been a heavy one, and she found herself increasingly absorbed in her work to avoid confronting her feelings.
The doorbell's sudden chime jolted her from her thoughts. Her brow furrowed as she walked towards the door, her steps echoing softly on the hardwood floor. When she opened it, she was met by the sight of a delivery man struggling to balance an enormous bouquet of roses. The sheer volume of the flowers nearly blocked the doorway, their rich, velvety petals bursting from the arrangement like a sea of red. The scent, a blend of sweet and spicy, wafted into the hallway.
The delivery man, with a tired but courteous smile, shifted the bouquet slightly as he extended it towards her. "Delivery for Ms. Dupont," he said, his voice muffled slightly by the flowers.
Alexine, taken aback by the sheer scale of the arrangement, took the bouquet with a mix of surprise and curiosity. It was so large that it nearly filled the width of her hallway. She maneuvered it carefully inside, the delicate fragrance enveloping her as she set it down on the floor.
The bouquet was a riot of color, with hundreds of deep red roses, their petals slightly dewy and soft. Interspersed among the roses were delicate white baby's breath and lush greenery, creating a lush, almost opulent display. The flowers seemed to pulsate with life, their vibrant hues contrasting sharply with the muted tones of her apartment.
Alexine's gaze fell on the accompanying card, nestled among the roses. She reached for it, her fingers brushing against the silk ribbon that held the card in place. Unfolding it carefully, she read the message penned in elegant script:
"They'll keep coming until you come back to me, kitty-cat."
The words were both a plea and a declaration, each letter carefully inscribed with Benjamin's distinctive flair.
As Alexine read the card, a lump formed in her throat. She could almost feel Benjamin's presence in the room, his voice resonating through the floral display.
She leaned in, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of the roses, and for a moment, the weight of their argument lifted. She felt a rush of emotions: nostalgia, regret, and a deep-seated longing. Her eyes softened, a soft smile pulling at her lips as her delicate hands brushed the petals.
After a few moments, she took a deep breath, her resolve beginning to shift. Benjamin's gesture, though grand and perhaps over-the-top, was an undeniable attempt to mend their rift. The gesture was sincere, and as she admired the bouquet, she found herself contemplating the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation.
A few days later, Alexine's hallway was now a gauntlet of flowers. Each day had brought a new delivery: roses, lilies, orchids—every possible flower one might find in a high-end florist's catalog. The once open space was now cluttered, almost impassable, with the flowers creating a lush, fragrant barrier. The scent of wilting petals mingled with the tang of cigarette smoke, leaving a bittersweet aroma hanging in the air.
