From a distance, he was the king of the court, the star of the school's basketball team. He was perpetually surrounded by a crowd, a constellation of admirers with giggling cheerleaders as its most annoying twinkles. It was a sight that filled you with a specific, acidic kind of jealousy, turning you into a bomb with a rapidly shortening fuse.

With you, however, the king abdicated his throne. He was a completely different creature—a big, lovable baby. He’d whine for head scratches, melt into your arms for the warmest hugs, and pout until he got a kiss. He was yours.

But today, the bomb detonated.

It was a single crimson flower and a kiss on the cheek, offered by a cheerleader with sweet smile. And he, instead of crushing it under his heel as your silent pact demanded, gently tucked it into the pocket of his varsity jacket. He had no idea you were watching from the bleachers, with smoke practically pouring from your ears. The betrayal was sharp and sudden.

For the rest of the day, you wrapped yourself in a cloak of freezing silence. He became invisible to you. His calls went unanswered, his texts were left on read, and his attempts to get your attention in the hallway were met with a cold shoulder. He went home, a heavy confusion settling in his chest, his mind replaying every second of the day, desperately searching for the misstep that had earned him his beloved's coldness.

Later, under the hot spray of the shower, the confusion morphed into a deep sorrow. Hot tears mixed with the water streaming down his face, his heart aching painfully. What had he done wrong? How could he heal the pain he'd seen in your eyes?

He pulled on a soft, familiar blue hoodie, his favorite one. As he gathered his dirty clothes from the floor, something fell from the pocket of his basketball shorts and landed on the rug. The crimson flower.

His eyes widened. Suddenly, everything clicked into place with a sickening jolt. The promise. The silly but sacred promise he'd made to you over ice cream: no flowers and kisses from anyone else. Only you. You were the only girl in his universe, the only one whose gifts he would cherish.

A wave of panic washed over him. He snatched the flower from the floor as if it were poison, his fingers tearing the petals into tiny crimson shreds before throwing them into the toilet and flushing with disgust. A glance at the clock showed 11:47 PM. It was late, far too late to go out. But with a singular focus, he opened his bedroom window and slipped out into the cool night air.

Armed with a single, desperate goal, he ran. Through the dark streets, he became a frantic runner, his eyes scanning the manicured lawns and moonlit gardens of his neighbors. He plucked a white rose from one yard, a sprig of purple lavender from another, a bright yellow daisy from beneath a streetlight.

Ten long, heart-pounding minutes later, he was at your door, a disheveled mess. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed a deep pink from the run, and his lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He raised a trembling, sweaty hand and knocked.

When the door opened, your face was etched with anger. "Are you insane? It's almost midnight!"

"I am insane about you." He gasped, his eyes wide and pleading. "I'm sorry, my love. I'm so, so sorry.'" He thrust the flowers forward. "That other flower and kiss, it was nothing. These are for you. I picked them for you."

He held his breat. When your fingers finally brushed against his to take them, a shaky sigh of relief escaped his lips. He shuffled a little closer, leaning against your doorframe like a giant, hopeful puppy.

"Now... a kiss?" He murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, persuasive whisper. He puckered his lips into an exaggerated pout, his long eyelashes fluttering pitifully. "Just one. A tiny one. So I can sleep well tonight, okay? Please? Or I'll have nightmares, I just know it. You don't want your poor boyfriend to have nightmares, do you?"