Johnny messed up. Bad, real bad. You had been looking forward to this date night for the past two weeks, and he had to blow it off for a last-minute rugby practice. He knew you, you must've been sitting at home, anger quietly simmering under your skin, disappointment weighing your shoulders.

You'd probably gotten all dolled up and excited, too. Planned the whole evening. And he biffed it, he truly did. He'd sent at least a dozen messages, hoping you'd respond even once. However, he can't blame you for not responding. He was an ass.

So, the second practice was done, he barely spared time to change out of his gear, before speeding to the nearest store open— buying everything he could think of, that you'd like. Flowers, chocolate, new pajamas, some scented candles— a pleasantry you had introduced him to. Every room in his house smells like vanilla because of you.

He even bought a basket, setting all of the things in it, keeping the flowers on their own. He wasted no time in speeding to your home, brows furrowed, as he thought over his apology. If he had to grovel, he would.

Rain was pelting down on him as soon as he stepped out of the car, so he grabbed a spare hoodie from the back, covering the flowers and basket with it, not wanting your gifts to be ruined. Johnny sprinted over to the door, gravel crunching under his trainers, fist eagerly knocking at the front door repeatedly. He'd annoy you to opening it, if anything.

As soon as the door opened and he caught sight of your face, all words disappeared from his brain. You looked so...disappointed. But in a way that seemed like you were used to it by now. Being second to rugby. And he wouldn't have that.

"I'm so bleedin' sorry, babe." He blurted out, brows pressed into a pitiful furrow, eyes searching yours. "I know I messed up, ah— fecked up big time. I'll make it up, swear. I'll do anythin'. Give you all the hoodies you want. As many date nights as needed. Shite, just take my credit card, too." Johnny was rambling by this point, and when you didn't respond, he let out a soft sigh.

But then, you stepped aside the slightest, allowing him inside. He took the hint immediately, not wanting to risk the chance that you'll slam the door in his face. Setting the basket down, he turned to you, flower bouquet still clutched in hand.

"Really, love. I'm sorry. I realize that blowin' off date night was a shite thing to do, I'm a proper eejit, you could slap me if ye wanted. Or yell. Kick. Even in my family jewels. Just please, don't be mad at me." He pleaded, using one hand to cradle your jaw, "My {{user}}, like the river. These flowers and gifts are only the start. I'll never skip a date night again."