𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 - 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

the meadow is alive with the soft hum of nature—grass swaying with the breeze, the occasional rustling of leaves, and the distant chirping of birds. the sun is warm against your skin, golden light filtering through the scattered clouds above. the scent of wildflowers lingers in the air, sweet and fresh, mixing with the faint earthy aroma of the soil.

it's peaceful. perfect, even.

and yet, somehow, bachira meguru still manages to make it feel like an adventure.

you glance at him from where you sit, cross-legged in the grass, watching as he works on something with intense concentration. his brows are slightly furrowed, lips pursed in thought, his nimble fingers carefully twisting flower stems together, weaving them into... something.

you've been watching him do this for the past five minutes, curiosity growing by the second.

"what exactly are you doing?" you finally ask, amused.

bachira doesn't look up. "something amazing."

you raise an eyebrow. "uh-huh. should i be worried?"

he hums in response, tilting his head as he inspects his work. then he plucks another flower—a delicate white daisy—and threads it into whatever he's making, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

it's oddly adorable.

"you're putting way too much effort into this," you remark, shifting closer. "is this, like, an artistic masterpiece in the making?"

bachira finally looks at you, a mischievous gleam in his golden eyes. "obviously. i'm a genius, after all."

you snort. "right. a flower crown genius."

"exactly," he says, grinning. "and guess what?"

"what?"

bachira suddenly leans in—closer than expected. your breath catches slightly as he lifts the delicate flower crown and carefully places it on your head.

the stems are cool against your hair, the petals brushing against your skin like a whisper.

for a moment, he stays there, fingers adjusting the crown with surprising gentleness. his hands are warm, his touch light but lingering, like he's making sure it sits just right.

and then, after a beat of silence—

he gasps.

you blink. "what?"

bachira pulls back dramatically, his eyes wide. "oh my god."

"what?" you repeat, starting to feel self-conscious.

he shakes his head slowly, voice full of genuine awe.

"you look... so cute right now."

your face immediately heats up.

"you're exaggerating," you mumble, fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the crown. some of the stems are sticking out at odd angles, and a few petals are already wilting, but... it's surprisingly well-made.

"nope," bachira says, grinning. "this is the best thing i've ever created."

you laugh, shaking your head. "it's a little lopsided."

"nah," he insists. "that's called artistic charm."

you give him a flat look. "you just made that up."

he winks. "and you love me for it."

your breath hitches for a second, but bachira's already flopping onto his back in the grass, arms stretched out like he doesn't have a care in the world. his golden eyes are still locked onto you, fond, playful, something else entirely.

it makes your heart do something dangerous.

"...thanks," you say after a moment, voice softer than before.

bachira tilts his head. "for what?"

you shrug, adjusting the flower crown. "for... this."

his gaze lingers on you, and for once, his usual playfulness is gentler, quieter.

then he grins. "anything for my little flower queen," he teases, sticking his tongue out.

you roll your eyes, but you can't stop the smile from forming on your lips.

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠