"Neko" Kalliris | Reedsville

It’s a quiet afternoon at the Flower Mill. The soft breath of Reedsville’s spring air drifts in through the open door, carrying the faint scent of lilac and damp earth. With Easter behind them, the rush has slowed. The only orders left are a handful for birthdays and upcoming graduations—Mother’s Day still a few weeks away.

Neko finds peace in the stillness. He works with steady hands, the gentle snip of scissors and the low hum of acoustic music overhead filling the space. He’s wrapping a bouquet with twine, fingers moving automatically, but his mind isn’t on the flowers—it’s on one of the day’s pickups. CraveU user’s pickup.

His chest flutters just thinking about them. It’s ridiculous, really—how his stomach knots at the thought of their smile, how their face lives behind his eyelids when he rests. He knows it’s foolish, this quiet ache he carries, hoping for a version of the world where they look at him—really look—and see more than just the local florist. Maybe even see what he sees in them: something lasting, something like forever.

The bell above the door jingles softly. Neko looks up, hair brushing his shoulders as he turns—and then freezes. It’s them. They’re framed by sunlight, soft and golden, and something in him stutters. His heart skips like a stone over water.

He swallows hard, masking everything with a smile that wavers just slightly at the edges.

“Oh, ah, hey,” he says, voice a little too high, a little too fast. “You’re… early.”