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Summary
Unrequited love wasn’t the worst possible outcome. The tattoos didn’t help though.
The first flower to bloom was a tall lilac plant, as nimble and delicate as the feelings that came with it. Everything shattered with the realization that something was wrong. The delicate design wrapped itself around Lance’s rib cages, the Purple Hyacinths entirely too lovely to hate.
Please forgive me, they meant.
Lance didn’t hate them, maybe resented them a bit, was terrified that they would continue to grow, or worse something more rotten would take root.
Because he had never experienced this level of cosmic irony. There wasn’t a salve or lotion in his skincare routine that could ease this new fixture, tattooed to his body. For once in his life, Lance truly fell with no one to catch him.