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Helpless.
Maybe it's the one adjective that Vyn would never associate with himself. Not when he could protect himself from anything and everything. Not when he's a man that has his whole life under control.
Helpless, Vyn Richter? Never.
Until one day a rose blossomed into his life and for the first time, Vyn Richter is... unsure.
It started with the first time she's stepped into his home, the first utterance of her strong beliefs and her unwavering idea, and he feels himself smile uncontrolled.
She's intriguing, to say the least.
He learns her name, and he says it, and rolls off his tongue so perfectly that it tugs the corner of his mouth up unknowingly.
Rosa.
The memory of her sears into his mind and it's funny.
It's funny because never in his life has experienced wanting to see a person's smile. To hear their voice. To have their time spent with him. He wanted her, but the voice in his head kept him together. Forced him to see the logic in this.
And it worked, fooled him for a couple of days before she calls him, and suddenly he's going on a pottery class with her, and he figures out that he was in too deep.
Too deep in yellow eyes, too deep in soft laughter, too deep in intellectual discussions that would have been background noise to anyone else listening.
Not him. Not when it's Rosa.
He comes home with two mug handles, and a heart beating so wildly that for a split second he thinks he might be losing his mind.
And then he laughs, because he knows, that he isn't crazy. There are new feelings to be understood, new feelings to deal with.
He records his thoughts that night, and writes down in his journal that his voice was shaking.
Helpless, Vyn Richter?
No. Not yet. He won't let himself.
Then comes waltzing in Rosa, and internally he's composing himself, telling himself that he wouldn't let these brain chemicals get to him. But when she smiles, and the little crinkle beside her eye appears, her fingers tucking her hair behind her ear, Vyn's chest constricts a little. And God, he wants to be there for her, wants to be the person to put a smile on her face.
She does absolutely nothing but exist, maybe give him a look, a nod, a smile — and Vyn is falling. Falling into a deep abyss of Rosa, and he cannot stop. There is no parachute to slow down the fall, and he does not think there's a stopping point.
Every day that he learns more about the lady that snatched his heart, every day he feels more vulnerable, wanting to show her the things he's kept from everyone else. Every day the urge to hold her hand, and keep Rosa close to him becomes so much stronger that it scares him.
Helpless, Vyn Richter? Maybe. Just maybe.
And when he held her cheeks for the first time, her face wet from tears, her voice shaking from fear, telling him that she was worried for him. She was scared of losing him — terrified of not having him around, he knew that he lost.
Nothing broke him more than seeing the woman he cared for the most cry because of him — and he used to think he was shatterproof.
So, he wraps his arms around her, soothing her, reassuring her that he would not leave. He would be there, always, whenever she needed him to. He did not promise that he would not make her cry (he knew better), but he did say one thing that he knew he would keep.
That she will be the only rose he'd keep in his heart, the one that he would continue to care for and keep safe, the only flower that he would not dream of leaving.
And when his lips brush against hers for the first time, their hands intertwined with each other's, he feels his heart beat uncontrollably —erratic, fast— he only smiles. He smiles as they share one breath, one moment, one kiss and when he pulls away, he's not scared. He takes one look at Rosa— his beautiful Rosa, and sees her smiling back, content, he feels whole.
Helpless, Vyn Richter?
Always— every time, when it is his rose, his one reason of a heart open once again, his incomparable other half.
Always, when it is Rosa.