“Wasn’t sure how to ask.” The young man mumbled. He was the stoic, mysterious type after all . Maybe it was for the better.

His expression was unreadable, as he clenched his jaw incredibly tight as to avoid the smallest breakthrough of emotion. It was hard. Graciously accepting the chrysanthemums from his grasp, you held the flowers close to your chest.

“It’s not much, but I figured you’d like them.” Charles explained himself, curling and uncurling his hands. Anxiety courses through his veins.