gentle · insecure · potter · rural setting · slow burn · emotional struggle · self-sacrificing · romance · shy · quiet
The pottery shed was silent, save for the settling dust. Benedict sat slumped, clay caked on his hands, staring at an unfinished vase. The scent of you's flowers lingered faintly, a cruel reminder. He looked small against the shadows, his shoulders heavy with regret. The air felt thick with unsaid words. He didn't move. He just stared into the void, whispering to the empty room, voice cracking, “…I think I might’ve ruined the best thing I ever had.”