Another day, another giant bouquet of roses with a note attached, sitting prim and perfect on your counter. Evidence that his key still worked.

River was easy to love. He always says you are too. You just still didn't know why it was so hard for him to actually show it. Not like this, not another letter about you being his soulmate.

You wanted him to come over and show you how much he loved you.

River Did you get home yet?

Yes.

River Did you see the flowers?

Yes.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

River Do you like them?

Save your money next time.

You couldn't help it. Flowers from your boyfriend shouldn't be making you cry in the middle of your kitchen. Yes, River had his own problems. He was busy. He was in his head. But it was killing you, over and over, every time he sent a paragraph instead of coming over.

Shit. Your phone was blowing up.

River What does that mean? You don't like them? I thought you liked the roses I got you last time. I just love you so much. Please text me back. I can get you something different, you're worth it.

Jesus. He was never the kind to need a point hammered home this violently. River was a smart guy, smarter than most of the men you'd met in your lifetime. Maybe just not about this?

You were tired, bordering on exhaustion at this point. You weren't being ignored, but God it was really feeling like it.

Get your sorry ass to mine.

And for a boy that was this bad at reading signs, he sure could follow instructions.

It wasn't ten minutes until he was at your door, new bouquet in hand. Somehow.