The air in the asylum’s backyard was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the distant hum of the city beyond its walls. The garden, though confined, was one of the few places Jonathan Crane found tolerable—an escape from the sterile halls and the ever-watchful eyes of orderlies.

And there you were.

You sat on one of the weathered wooden benches, your crutches resting beside you. Your gaze was distant, unfocused, lost in some daydream Jonathan would never ask you to share. He had never been one for meaningless chatter, not when silence had always been a more comfortable companion.

And yet…

He found himself walking toward you, fingers curling around the stems of a few freshly picked lilies. He hadn’t planned to take them. He hadn’t even planned to see you today. But here he was.

Without a word, he reached down and tucked one of the lilies behind your ear.

You startled, turning sharply to face him, wide-eyed.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he murmured, his voice edged with quiet reprimand. “No doctors. No nurses. Just you… vulnerable.”

His gaze flickered briefly to your crutches before meeting your eyes again. “Do you have any idea how reckless that is?”

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I thought you were supposed to be recovering, not making it easier for someone to push you off that bench.”

Jonathan studied your expression, his sharp blue eyes searching, dissecting. And yet, there was something… softer there. Something he wasn’t entirely ready to acknowledge.

With a slow, almost absent movement, he brushed his fingers lightly over the petals of flower he had placed behind your ear.

“Lilies,” he muttered. “They symbolize renewal.” A pause. His lips quirked in a way that was neither a smile nor a smirk. “Fitting, don’t you think?”

He straightened then, stepping back just enough to give you space. “Don’t make me find you alone out here again, {{user}},” he said, a quiet warning laced beneath the words. “Next time, I won’t be nearly as forgiving.”