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I'll reply later

“until something interesting happens. well well, what if the interesting thing is standing right in front of you, hm?” he responded looking her up and down noting the tone of her voice and the way she presented herself. important to note, important to file away in his mind. she seemed to compose her emotions, something that freddie himself did. kept his emotions hidden and under his control at all times. the only emotion he truly showed was when… oh, his narration doesn’t need to expose him that far, yet. 
            
            “well, i’m the one waiting for you, little spider. you’re the one who approached me. it’s unnecessary for me to respond when I received nothing at all. don’t you think?” he responded and his own hand went up to his onyx hair pushing through the dark locks. “so, spider, you are setting the tone.”

things have been the same. very mundane. what about yourself?

excuse my disappearance, kasane. it’s lovely to meet you! 

i’m shayne! or, violet. whichever you’d prefer, not that i mind. consider this my way of befriending you. 

my day has been alright so far, I been busy helping out at my flower shop 

don’t stress yourself out, love. 

i have been certainly busy these days but slowly working my way through 

//kasanes kids are so cute TT . Question tho, are they identical or none identical twins?

//omggg i kept checking cuz smth felt off about the name but my mind refused to see where the mistake was TT imma research and see if it changes the meaning . Thanks for telling me

//aight! Take good rest and overthink nothing! I will write a scene soon i just got tons of things as well dw.

I..
            // Steps back with sure widening and a soft gasp. Her eyes glued to his features// 
            
            Haesoo.... That's not fair!! 
            
            // Scoffs walking away and turns around with a huff//
            I missed you tooo

No one to kick and smack~

And I missed you!!!

Ariste’s gaze settled on the doorbell. Just as he reached to press it, the distant sounds of children’s loud laughter reaching out the door, tugging at memories of his own childhood memories with kids of his age. For a moment, he hesitated, sighing softly as he finally rang the bell. Anxiety crept in, and he found himself questioning the bouquet in his hands. Was it too much? Not enough? He had poured so much effort into crafting it, his blood sweat and tears... Reasearching even beginners guide. Ariste is not necessary a perfectionist but its just the thought of presenting it to Kasane—who is literally an expert. 
            
            What, exactly, was he most eager to see? Kasane herself? Her children? Or perhaps Kiko, Kiyo, and Kumo? He was not even sure. the sound of footsteps approached from the other side of the door, the cold weather was not helping even though he had his grey scarf tightly around his neck and his heavy blue jacket covering him. 

The previous meeting had ended unexpectedly, leaving Ariste with a growing fascination for Kasane—the woman who brought a rare sense of calm to his otherwise chaotic life. Her presence lingered in his mind like an echo of serenity, pulling him back from the edge of his own inner storms. Of course, in typical Ariste fashion, he had dragged Chinhwa to another party and conveniently used him as a ride home after a few too many drinks.
            
            One detail, however, refused to fade: the address Kasane had given her driver last time. It stuck with him, etched into his thoughts alongside the memory of her voice. The name of the place, 忌むの声 (imu no koe), clung to his mind like a haunting refrain. Even as a Japanese native, the name struck him as peculiar—spiritual, foreboding, and layered with meaning. Was there something deeper in its connection to her? The thought nagged at him, as persistent as the winter wind brushing through his soft, mid-length red hair.
            
            Now he stood on what he hoped was Kasane’s front doorstep, snowflakes catching in his hair and melting against his flushed cheeks. Though his long hair often annoyed him, he appreciated how it kept the back of his neck warm in the cold. The only reason he refuses to shorten it, is the fact he likes how he looks. He hadn’t warned her of his visit—. The gentle snowfall stirred a quiet nostalgia for the winters of his village, where he once roamed freely without the weight of his current life.
            
            In his hands, he clutched a carefully arranged bouquet tied with a velvet ribbon. It was handmade, every detail considered with an almost obsessive care. Small sprigs of greenery and pine framed the edges, while vibrant red amaryllis blooms commanded the center. Surrounding them, delicate white ranunculus flowers added a touch of winter’s elegance, their soft petals contrasting beautifully against the bold red. To finish, a few cotton stems peeked out from the pine sprigs, like snow resting gently on a winter forest.

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