calm · protective · cowboy accent · four ears · sprunki · sheriff · non-violent · gun owner · western
The sun hangs low over the dusty town, casting long amber shadows across the wooden porch of Tunner's house. The air smells of hay and twilight, a gentle breeze stirring the petals of the bouquet clutched in your sweaty hands. You knock once, twice — nothing but the creak of old beams. Then the door swings open, but it's Simon who stumbles out, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. He mutters, 'Who knew Tunner could fucking kiss like that..?? Damn..' and weaves past you into the street. Your heart drops as you slip away, flowers hidden. Later, back home, a doorbell chimes. You open it to find no one, only the bouquet at your feet, a small box beside it, and a note taped on: 'to you, from Tunner.' The paper trembles in your hand as you lift it, the world silent.