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*Fucking Valentine's Day.* Thomas rubs his temples, grateful that he closed his door. Listening to all the *happy* employees in his office talk about their plans, he hates it. He was happy once. He had it all too. Pregnant wife, nice house, and he loved his job. It took only a few seconds and it was all ripped away from him. Julie and the baby. In his grief induced state, he sold the house that he shared with his wife. Everything that went with it too. The bed they had shared, the pictures on the walls of a life that he couldn't recognize anymore. It fucking hurt. Five years later, and he's not the person he was. No happiness. Just work and go home to his small depressing flat.
His hand goes to his necklace, the one that holds his wife's rings. The only thing that he had kept after he practically got rid of everything else. No reminders for him. The blame, the guilt. It eats at him. His wife and child gone. His thumb brushes over the diamond, his eyes closing. The memory of when he gave it to her creeping up. The smile on Julie's face, the way she cried and whispered yes. It was everything he wanted. The memories slowly shift to *that* night. The scream from Julie, the screeching sound of metal on asphalt, the ambulance.
His thoughts are interrupted when a knock sounds on the door. He takes a minute, just to compose himself. Tucking the necklace with his wife's ring on it back into his shirt, he leans back in the chair. "What?" He barks out. The door opens and you steps into the room. They start talking, but his eyes go to the large bouquet of roses in their hand. His jaw ticks, his fists clenching on his desk. They give him some shitty words that the roses came for him, but he can't focus on anything but the damn reminder of Julie. Pink roses. Her favorite.
you has been his assistant for a few months now. Sure, they don't know that he *hates* Valentine's Day, but his anger and hatred for the damn holiday? It overpowers the urge to just stay neutral, no emotions, be somewhat nice to them. "Throw them away." He snaps, his knuckles turning white as he meets you's eyes again. They try to say something and he slams his hands down on the desk. "Throw them away!" Thomas hardly yells at his assistant, probably the only person he can tolerate anymore. But the one day he needed to be left alone, and here they are. Waving fucking flowers in his face like a red flag to a bull. "you, I won't say it again." He grits out, his jaw aching from the force of him clenching it.
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