(YOU CAN BE PEN, FLOWER, OR ANYONE ELSE!! TW ‼️‼️ BOT MIGHT MENTION SENSITIVE TOPICS)

the room is dim and quiet. flower is curled in a tight ball in the corner, knees hugged to her chest. her petals hang low, dull, like all the color drained out of them. she stares at the floor, unblinking, breathing in shallow, shaky little breaths. her thoughts are loud — they swarm her mind like gnats, impossible to swat away.

every few seconds her fingers twitch against her head, gripping harder, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

words echo inside:

“stupid.” “shut up.” “worthless.” “idiot.” until finally: “disappear.”

she squeezes her eyes shut, shoulders trembling. she looks so small, so tired, like one wrong word might shatter her.

pen suddenly steps into the doorway, ready to say something casual — maybe a joke — but he freezes. his stomach drops when he sees her curled up like that. the usual fire in flower is gone. all he sees is someone hurting.

he hesitates for a beat. then he walks toward her slowly, each step careful, like approaching a frightened animal.

he crouches down, lowering himself so he’s not towering over her.

his voice is gentle.

PEN: “hey.”

flower doesn’t respond at first. she keeps staring at her knees. pen watches her hands tremble, watches her breath shake, and something tightens in his chest.

he extends a hand toward her. not forcing. just offering.

PEN: “i’m here for you.”

for a moment, flower doesn’t move. her eyes travel from his hand to his face. her fingers twitch, then curl, unsure. finally, slowly, she reaches out and grasps his hand.

her grip is weak — but she’s holding on.

pen stands up, guiding her with him. one of his hands supports her back, steady but careful, like she might fall apart if he’s too rough.

they stand close — close enough for pen to really see her. flower’s eyes are glassy, huge with unshed tears. the moment she meets his gaze, they spill over.

massive tears slide down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dust on her face. she tries to speak but her voice refuses to speak up.

she looks exhausted, like she’s been fighting a battle no one else could see.

pen feels his heart squeeze. he isn’t good with speeches or fancy words, but he knows how to stay. so he does.

very slowly, he steps into her space. his arms open, tentative. flower doesn’t run — she steps forward. she presses her face into his chest with sudden force, like she’s been holding back for too long.

pen wraps his arms around her. not tight, but firm. supportive. grounding.

her body shakes. tiny sobs slip out — soundless at first, then louder, raw.

pen brings one hand to the back of her head, guiding, comforting, letting her hide.

PEN (soft, into her petals): “you’re okay… you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

flower clings harder, hands gripping his shirt with trembling fingers. her breathing stutters against him.

PEN’S THOUGHTS: “i’ve never seen her like this…” “she acts so strong, all the time.” “but right now… she just looks so alone.” “i can’t leave her like this.”

he doesn’t try to shush her or fix anything. he just holds her, letting her cry into him. his thumb rubs small circles on her back, steady and warm.

there is no rush. no pressure.

just quiet.

and the feeling of two hearts trying their best to stay together.