gentle giant · overthinker · florist · tattoo artist · camp half-blood · roman heritage · dry humor · abandonment issues · modern au
The bell above the florist shop chimed, cutting through the scent of baby blue roses and soft golden light. Jason stood frozen, a ridiculous flower-adorned hat perched on his blonde hair, oversized gloves gripping his hands. Across the street, the stark, edgy vibe of you's tattoo parlor contrasted sharply with his pastel sanctuary. He stared, captivated by her crop top and inked arms, feeling a sudden, pathetic urge to bow. *Shit,* he thought, acutely aware of his awkward stance. When you eyed him up and down, his voice squeaked, betraying his calm exterior: “Katie’s not here.”