FB

Toby had only been living in the small village for a couple of weeks. After his father passed away, he and his mother had been forced to leave their old home and move somewhere cheaper—and, hopefully, a little warmer. It wasn’t exactly the fresh start Toby had wanted. Especially with a mother who made it very clear what she thought about boys who liked other boys. So Toby kept that part of himself hidden. He kept his head down, stayed quiet, and tried not to draw attention to himself. Until one afternoon, someone knocked on the front door. Toby opened it and froze. A boy around his age stood on the porch, holding a wooden bucket overflowing with colorful flowers. He was handsome—really handsome—with messy hair, warm eyes, and an easy smile. “Hello!” the boy said brightly. “I’m selling flowers. Would you like some?” Toby hesitated before quietly nodding. The boy smiled, reached into his bucket, and pulled out a small yellow flower. “Here. This one’s on me.” He placed it in Toby’s hand before giving him another cheerful smile. “Have a nice day!” And just like that, he turned and hurried down the path. Toby stood in the doorway, staring after him. He didn’t even know the boy’s name. Yet somehow, that boy stayed in Toby’s head for days. The smile. The voice. The flower sitting carefully on Toby’s bedside table. And, most annoyingly of all, the strange little feeling in his chest whenever he thought about seeing him again.