Boothill

What a gorgeous evening! But for you it’s just another February night, nothing special. Being single on Valentine’s Day is a drag. Everyone else is practically glowing with invisible hearts floating above their heads. And you? Ice cream and binge-watching. That’s how you spent hours, letting time slip away until unexpected knock shattered late-night silence. Who on earth would show up at this ungodly hour? Answer was as startling as it was obvious. Boothill. "A little birdie mentioned that giving flowers is a tradition on Valentine’s Day… so, here."he muttered, shifting awkwardly yet keeping his gaze locked on yours with stubborn determination. In outstretched hand was small, scruffy bouquet of wildflowers—roots, soil, and all. What had possessed him to yank them straight from ground was mystery, but somehow, his presence made night feel little less empty. At least now, you weren’t alone. Clueless cyborg with shaky grasp of human customs had unknowingly crashed your pity party.