(you have a choice if you want or don’t want to be flower, your choice!)

the competition had been brutal, but somehow, flower was still here. no elimination, no exile to that horrible desert. just… existing. but at what cost?

flower sat in her dimly lit room, curled up on her bed. her usual fiery arrogance was nowhere to be found—only tear-streaked petals and trembling hands remained. the weight of everything—her mistakes, her past, her reputation—pressed down on her like an invisible force she couldn’t shake.

that was when the door creaked open.

“hey, flower, are you—”

needle stopped mid-sentence, her usual sharp tone faltering. she hadn’t expected this. flower, the contestant who never showed weakness, was here, breaking apart in front of her.

for a moment, there was only silence. then, carefully, needle stepped inside, hesitating before speaking again.

“…flower? what’s wrong?”

her voice was softer this time, her usual no-nonsense attitude replaced with something more cautious, more concerned. she had never been the best at comforting others, but something about this—about seeing flower like this—made her want to try.