For the next few days,
something strange began to happen.
Jack… changed.
Not truly.
Not inside.
But on the surface.
He started arriving at the flower shop in the mornings,
hands in his pockets,
expression calm—almost pleasant.
The boy would stiffen every time he appeared.
His hands would freeze mid-action.
His breath would shorten.
But Jack never raised his voice.
Never glared.
Never threatened.
Instead…
He smiled.
A slow, careful, calculated smile.
"Morning," Jack said one day, stepping into the shop.
The boy nearly dropped the vase he was holding.
The girl narrowed her eyes.
"…Jack?"
Jack shrugged casually.
"What? I can't say hello now?"
She didn't trust him.
Not for a second.
But the boy—
the boy was confused.
Terrified.
Lost between fear and the strange kindness he didn't know how to reject.
Jack walked over to him slowly—
not close enough to trigger panic,
but close enough to be unsettling.
He pointed at the bouquet the boy was making.
"That's nice," Jack said softly.
"You're good at this."
The boy blinked,
his heart pounding.
"…Thank you," he whispered.
Jack nodded as if satisfied.
Inside,
he smirked.
Good.
You're falling for it.
---
That afternoon, Jack returned again.
This time, he brought coffee.
One for his sister.
One for the boy.
The boy stared at the cup like it was a trap.
Jack laughed lightly.
"It's not poisoned.
Relax."
The boy flinched at the laugh.
Jack's smile softened.
"Look… I know I scared you," he said,
voice low, almost apologetic.
"And I know I messed up.
I want to… fix things between us."
The boy swallowed.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Jack… what are you doing?"
Jack ignored her.
He kept his focus on the boy.
"You're important to her," Jack said honestly—too honestly.
"And if she cares about you… then I should at least try."
The boy hesitated.
Jack saw the hesitation.
Saw the confusion.
Saw the vulnerability.
Perfect.
He extended his hand slowly.
"Truce?" he offered.
The boy froze.
His hands trembled.
She stepped closer nervously.
"You don't have to—"
But the boy shook his head.
"No… if he's trying… I should try too."
He reached out—
hesitant, timid—
and shook Jack's hand.
Jack's smile widened.
"Good," he said softly.
But the moment the boy turned his gaze elsewhere—
for just one second—
Jack's eyes darkened.
The smile faded.
The mask cracked into something sinister.
He whispered under his breath,
so low only the walls could hear:
"This will be easier than I thought."
---
Later, when Jack left,
the girl grabbed the boy's arm.
"Don't trust him," she whispered.
"Please don't. I feel something's wrong."
The boy looked conflicted.
"I'm trying," he said softly.
"But he said he wants peace.
And I want things to get better between all of us."
She cupped his cheek gently.
"I just… don't want him to hurt you again."
He wrapped his fingers around hers.
"He won't," he said,
trying to believe it.
"He's trying."
But outside the shop,
leaning against the wall,
Jack whispered to himself with a cold smirk:
"LThe afternoon sun filtered through the flower shop windows,
casting soft golden light on the bouquets.
The boy was helping an elderly customer choose a set of lilies—
his hands steadying, his voice soft but calm.
For once, he looked… peaceful.
Then the bell above the door chimed.
Jack walked in.
No anger.
No harsh footsteps.
No cold glare.
Just a casual smile and a relaxed posture—
too unnatural to be real.
"Hey," Jack said, leaning against the counter.
"How's business?"
The boy froze for half a second—
not in terror this time,
but confusion.
He gave a small, awkward nod.
"Um… it's okay."
Jack smirked, amused by the boy's discomfort.
"You're getting better at this," he said,
gesturing to the flower arrangements.
"You've improved a lot."
The boy blinked again,
unsure what to do with this… kindness.
"T-Thanks," he said quietly.
Jack stepped closer, hands in his pockets.
"You know…" he continued,
voice casual,
"you're not as weak as I thought."
The boy stiffened.
The words were meant to sound like a compliment—
but coming from Jack,
they felt like a knife wrapped in velvet.
"Oh," the boy answered softly,
unsure whether to smile or run.
Jack chuckled lightly.
"You really are something else."
But the boy couldn't understand the warmth in Jack's tone.
No one had ever talked to him like this—
especially not someone as intense as Jack.
He shifted nervously.
"…Is something wrong?"
Jack raised a brow.
"Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?"
He laughed.
"You're too paranoid."
The boy swallowed.
Maybe he was.
Maybe he wasn't.
---
Across the shop,
she stood by the lavender display,
watching them.
Jack laughing.
Jack smiling.
Jack being… friendly.
Her stomach twisted.
Jack never behaved this way.
Not genuinely.
Not without a reason.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
He's planning something.
She could feel it.
Every smile Jack gave the boy felt rehearsed.
Too smooth.
Too calculated.
She stepped closer.
"Jack," she said, voice steady,
"can I talk to you for a second?"
Jack didn't look at her.
"Later," he answered, brushing her off.
"I'm in the middle of a conversation."
A chill ran down her spine.
The boy tried to hide his nervousness,
but she could see his hands trembling slightly.
Jack leaned in just a bit toward him.
"You know…" Jack said softly,
"we should hang out sometime.
Just you and me.
Clear the air."
The boy's eyes widened.
"J-Just us?"
Jack nodded.
"Yeah. What? You scared?"
"No," the boy lied quietly.
Jack smirked.
"Good."
From across the counter,
she clenched her jaw.
Her heart pounded hard.
Her instincts screamed.
Jack was pulling him in.
Slowly.
Smoothly.
Cleverly.
And the boy—
the boy who wanted peace so badly—
was beginning to believe it.
Jack turned slightly, catching her gaze.
He smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
A smile that said:
"You know.
But you can't stop me."
She tightened her grip on the counter.
He's planning something.
He's getting close on purpose.
And if I don't warn him…
Jack will break him again.
Her breath caught.
Because this time,
the boy wouldn't survive it.
et him trust me."
A quiet chuckle.
"Let him think he's safe."
His eyes narrowed with deadly intent.
"Because when he falls…"
he whispered,
"…I'll be the one who pushes him."