fic for sky_fish7
For: sky_fish7
From: cutselvage
Title: The Language of Flowers
Pairing/Focus: Sho/Nino
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Nino the cranky florist with a soft heart meets Sakurai Sho, the clumsy economist.
Notes: I took a tiny part of one of your prompts and ran with it! Hope you enjoy it.
Nino loves the scent of lavender. It's old-fashioned, and not commonly requested in the upscale bouquets or floral centrepieces that make up the bulk of the orders that come to Fleur de Tokyo, his flower shop, but he keeps a pot in the sunny backyard behind the store, and has several dried bunches hanging over his workbench.
The Fleur de Tokyo is a small 'select shop', located down one of the many winding back alleys that spiral out from Shibuya Station. Set slightly back from the street, with large folding doors that Nino opens wide on sunny days, the shop is filled with flowers, leafy plants, even a few small trees and shrubs, including the ever-present terracotta pot filled with lavender.
Early each morning, Nino rolls up the metal shutters and unlocks the main door, the sound of the bell rippling through the quiet streets. If the forecast is good, he opens the glass folding doors, and moves the wheeled shelving to to face the street. He waters the flowers, checks his small bonsai collection, and tends to the orchids, one of his most popular sellers.
It takes about half an hour to get the shelves in order. And on delivery day, like today, the van will usually pull up just as Nino drags the Fleur de Tokyo sandwich board outside.
"Good morning, Nino!" says the driver cheerfully, hopping out of the van and walking around to open the back door.
Nino just makes a vague grunting noise. "Hey Aiba."
Aiba grins, eyes crinkling. "Man, it's been five years and you're still grumpy in the mornings."
"I'll feel more functional once Ohno turns up," replies Nino, rubbing his hand across his face. "Let's unload."
Aiba nods, passing bucket after bucket of fresh flowers to Nino that contain fluffy chrysanthemums, elegantly drooping lilies, fern fronds, huge bunches of roses, and much more besides. Burying his face briefly in a cluster of jasmine, Nino inhales deeply. Along with lavender, jasmine is one of his favourite scents.
"Anything interesting to work on today?" asks Aiba as he passes the last bunch of asters to Nino.
A quick smile flashes across Nino's face. "I'm working on a special bouquet, the customer requested an arrangement that has a similar scent to his fiance's favourite perfume. Otherwise just the usual simple stuff for daily sale."
"Sounds like fun," says Aiba. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, take care!"
Nino waves as Aiba reverses, none too carefully, back down the street, and turns as he hears someone call his name.
"Hey, Nino!"
A small figure comes jogging up to Nino, holding out a takeaway cup that steams slightly.
"Oh, Ohno, thank you," says Nino. Ohno grins, doffing his cap and bowing slightly.
"Sorry I'm late, I overslept and missed my train. I'll get started on the sandwich board now."
"Maybe lilies today? I've got lots of peace lilies in stock," says Nino, gesturing to the buckets of lilies on the floor of the shop.
Ohno nods, pulling open the small front door and emerging a moment later with a box of coloured chalk and a small folding stool. Setting himself up outside the front door, Ohno begins to sketch out the rough outline of the lilies in full bloom, and writing the text "Fresh Flowers - Fleur de Tokyo" in a fancy script above.
Nino sips his tea as he moves through the shop, stacking buckets of flowers on the metal shelves, ready for the first customers of the day. Shrugging on a dark green apron and pinning on his name badge, Nino readies his tools on his workbench as Ohno finishes the day's artwork and comes inside to return the chalk.
"All done!" says Ohno, dusting the chalk powder from his fingers.
"Thanks. Decided what flowers you want yet?" Nino asks. Old friends since their teens, Ohno does the art for Fleur de Tokyo’s chalkboard once a week, in exchange for a fresh bunch of flowers to decorate the small studio he works in as a sculptor nearby.
Ohno hums thoughtfully, bending to stroke the petals of a sunflower.
"The other artist I'm sharing with at the moment doesn't like super strong scents... maybe some daisies or cosmos?" he asks.
"No problem, I'll give you a mix." Pulling out a pair of secateurs from his apron pocket, Nino deftly trims the stems of Ohno's requested flowers, and wraps them neatly in tissue paper and cellophane.
"Thanks Nino, I'll see you later -- I'm in the studio all day today if you need anything," says Ohno, cradling the bunch in one arm and flicking his fingers in wave.
From Nino's workbench that's set perpendicular to the sales counter in the middle of the shop, he can see anyone passing by, and this quiet time of the morning before he opens the store to customers, when there's few pedestrians and little traffic, is his favourite time of the day. He reaches up to sniff a bunch of dried lavender and closes his eyes briefly.
"Um, excuse me," a voice interrupts.
Nino lets out a tiny sigh, and turns to face the front windows.
"I'm sorry, we don't open until ten o'clock -- " Nino pauses mid-sentence. In front of him is a man about his age, dressed in a slightly rumpled navy suit and soft blue shirt, with neatly parted hair. He's holding a brown leather briefcase, and has an anguished expression on his face.
"Please excuse me for bothering you so early," says the stranger. "I'm a little desperate -- you see, my boss urgently needs a gift of flowers for an important client, and we have a meeting at nine o'clock -- you're the third florist I've tried, would you mind awfully...?" the man trails off.
Nino wants to say no, to tell this stranger to get lost, but the desperation in the man's face is palpable, and Nino isn't completely heartless.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," Nino says grudgingly. "Come in and tell me what you'd like -- oh, bloody hell," exclaims Nino as the man takes a step inside and promptly knocks over a tall vase holding long-stemmed roses, sending it smashing to the floor with water and flowers everywhere.
A look of horror crosses the customer's face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, here, let me," he stammers, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the puddle of water.
Nino rolls his eyes. "Okay, just -- just, sit down here, and don't move. What sort of flowers does your boss need?"
The man steps gingerly over the mess and sits on the tall stool in front of the counter, clutching his briefcase to his chest. "I'm so sorry," he repeats.
"Never mind that," says Nino, scooping up the bundles of roses and shoving them in another bucket. He'll mop up the water when he's managed to get this fool out of his shop. "Ow." A thorny stem manages to get through his glove, and Nino yanks it off, sucking his finger. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his early customer blushing, and Nino can't help smirking a tiny bit as he replaces his glove.
"What sort of flowers do you need?"
Looking around, the man's eyes light up as he spots the brightly coloured peonies. "Those ones, I'm sorry, I'm terrible with anything flowers or nature, but a bunch of those ones, perhaps?"
"Something colourful?" prompts Nino. "Peonies are lovely, but they do best when mixed with glossy green leaves, to set off the brilliant colour," he continues, pulling out a few handfuls of the peonies, along with a bunch of greenery. "Reds, pinks, oranges all right?"
"You're the expert," says the customer, clutching his briefcase tightly.
Nino raises an eyebrow. "I suppose so."
Nino sets the flowers down on his workbench, neatly strips off the excess leaves and trims the stems, then drops them in a short, narrow vase to arrange the individual blooms to their best advantage, mixing in the greenery, then wrapping the stems in tissue paper.
As Nino finishes the bouquet, tying a wide silk ribbon around the paper-wrapped stems, he turns, catching the customer's eye. The man flushes slightly, slides off the stool and pulls a wallet from his pocket.
"I'm so sorry for the bother," he begins, but Nino cuts him off.
"That will be 5,000 yen," he says firmly. It's higher than what he'd normally charge, but it is before opening time.
The customer doesn't bat an eyelid though, placing a Y5,000 note in the small green tray on the counter. Nino rings up the purchase, then takes the flowers and comes around the front of the counter and holds them out with a small bow. The man's fingers brush against Nino's gloved hands as he takes them.
"Thank you so very much, uh, Ninomiya-san," says the customer, squinting at the name-tag pinned to Nino's apron.
"You're welcome -- I hope the client likes them," replies Nino.
The man turns to make his way through the open glass doors.
"Oh, please use the front door, it'll save you knocking anything else over," says Nino with a mischievous grin. The customer lets out a short laugh, and the bell over the door tinkles as he leaves.
Nino watches in amusement as his customer hitches the flowers under one arm and fishes a cellphone out of his jacket pocket, balancing it against his shoulder. The man turns back to wave and nearly drops the bouquet, and Nino smiles ruefully. He tidies up the mess of porcelain and discards the roses that aren't salvageable, putting the remaining ones in a spare vase.
Sitting behind the front counter to finish his tea, Nino notices a business card tucked under the cash tray.
Sakurai Sho
Economist
JE Enterprises Pty Ltd
"Sakurai Sho," Nino murmurs.
---
It's a slow day at the shop. Nino sells a few bouquets, one or two orchids, and prepares a quote for a wedding. He texts Ohno, asking him to mind the shop for half an hour while Nino ducks out to get a quick lunch from the convenience store and visit a music store a few blocks away.
The sun is starting to sink, shadows lengthening across the street when Nino hears the bell tinkle again, not long before he normally starts to move the display inside in preparation to close.
"Uh, excuse me..." a familiar voice trails off.
Nino looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. Late customers are always the most likely to agonise and dither over a selection, and all he wants is to go home and restring his guitar with the new strings he bought at lunch time.
"Oh, it's you again," asks Nino without thinking, and winces.
Sakurai Sho lets out a huff of laughter. "I can't blame you for that."
"I came to apologise once more for causing you trouble this morning," Sho continues, bowing deeply. He holds a wrapped box out to Nino. "Please, it's nothing, but..."
Nino stares at the elaborately gift-wrapped box of fancy chocolate truffles, tied with gold satin ribbons. It's more like something a man might give his girlfriend, not a grumpy florist who did him a pretty harmless favour.
"Er... is this too much? I'm sorry, I just felt so dreadful about what happened this morning, and the client absolutely loved the flowers, they were perfect," Sho says, stumbling over the words.
Realising he's been staring at Sho for several seconds (specifically, at the way one lock of hair flops perfectly over Sho's left eye), Nino starts, and takes the offered box. The paper feels embossed and expensive under his fingers.
"No -- no, thank you. They're lovely, you really shouldn't have," Nino says automatically.
Sho smiles, relieved. "Not at all, I had to do something."
"Thank you," says Nino again.
Sho scratches the back of his neck, looking over Nino's shoulder. The silence stretches out, but Nino doesn't quite know what to say.
"I'd better go," Sho says finally, and Nino wonders if he can hear a tiny note of disappointment in Sho's voice.
"Thank you for stopping by, and for the truffles. I'm sure they'll be delicious," says Nino in reply, bowing slightly.
"Perhaps you'd better give me your card, in case I need flowers again," says Sho, as he's almost out the door.
"Oh -- yes, of course," says Nino, groping in the pocket of his apron and handing a card to Sho, who accepts it with both hands and carefully reads both sides before placing it in his wallet.
"Well, I -- I -- thank you again, Ninomiya," Sho says, knocking an orchid over with his briefcase as he turns to leave.
"It's fine! It's fine, it's just a bit of dirt," says Nino hurriedly as Sho's face falls. "I'm closing up and need to sweep anyway, it's no problem," Nino says.
"I'd really better go before I destroy the rest of your inventory," says Sho with a wry smile, stepping carefully around the dirt and out the front door, the bell tinkling behind him.
As he sweeps up the dirt and starts bringing in the flower display, Nino hums to himself, wondering if he'll see Sho again. Of course, he could always call him, but the number on the card is for Sho's office, and Nino can't quite imagine being bold enough to call and explain to the receptionist that he wants to speak to one of their economists to ask him out.
The street lamps are flickering in the twilight as Nino locks the door and pulls the roller shutter down. Around him, the streets are busy with cool kids shopping at the vintage store across the street, sharply-suited businessmen and women walking briskly to the train station, tourists gawking at the massive billboards. Nino slings his bag over his shoulder, puts on a pair of headphones and moves through the crowd easily, letting the noise of the city wash over him like a stream flowing over stones.
He takes the subway home to his small, neat apartment. Leftover curry and rice for dinner, half-watching a variety show, texting an old friend who messages to announce his engagement and request that Nino do the flowers. By the time he's washed his dishes and taken a bath, it's late, and he's got another early start the next morning.
As Nino puts on pyjamas and crawls under the covers of his futon, he realises that he hasn't been able to get Sakurai Sho out of his head all evening.
With loud sigh, Nino switches off the lamp.
---
Four days later, on a cloudy Saturday morning, Sho turns up at Fleur de Tokyo again.
"Hi Ninomiya-san," Sho says cheerfully as the bell rings. Nino's on the phone to his friend's fiance, scribbling furiously as she runs through a list of the flowers she wants for the wedding, so he raises his index finger to signal 'just a moment'.
When he finally finishes, Nino spots Sho hunched over a bonsai pine, touching the miniature needles gently with a fingertip.
"Hello again, Sakurai-san," says Nino. "Can I help you?"
Sho straightens and turns to face Nino, and Nino eyes him, curious about Sho's weekend clothes. Instead of the navy suit, Sho's wearing a grey hoodie, faded blue jeans, and a pair of bright red hi-top sneakers.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Sho looks over the top of Nino's head.
"I'd like to get some flowers for a special lady," he says, and Nino's heart sinks. Of course. No one as cute as Sho would be without a girlfriend (though he's not wearing a ring so probably not married, Nino thinks).
"Of course," says Nino, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Roses? The dozen red roses is a classic for a reason." Nino gestures expansively to the rack holding bunches of velvety red, pink, and yellow blooms.
Sho frowns. "Roses are nice, but a bit too extravagant for her taste, I think," he says, eyes scanning the shop. "She's not into anything super over-the-top."
Nino purses his lips, and walks over to shelf of pre-made bouquets. "How about a mixed bouquet of flowers in similar shades? Colourful, long-lasting, and very fashionable at the moment," Nino says, waving his hand at a bunch of flowers all in shades of pink.
Tilting his head to one side, Sho steps closer to Nino and squints at the suggested bouquet, gerberas and asters and poppies and a few other types. Nino catches a faint scent of cologne, and damn if Sho doesn't smell good. Really good.
Sho straightens. "They're beautiful, but I'm not certain that she'd like something so trendy. She's quite traditional, you know. A bit old-fashioned."
"She must be a special woman, for you to be so careful," Nino says.
"Oh yes! And it's not every day she turns sixty, so it's got to be just right," Sho replies, walking gingerly around Fleur de Tokyo's displays, picking up bouquets and sniffing blooms.
Nino's jaw actually drops, and he quickly smooths his expression from astonishment to polite nonchalance. Sixty?! Sho couldn't be more than a couple of years older than Nino himself, maybe in his mid-thirties at most.
"Gosh, well then, we should make sure she gets an appropriate floral arrangement befitting such a milestone."
Beaming, Sho nods, and points to a vase of calla lilies in pink and white. "Those, I think those will be absolutely perfect," he says, taking a seat at the customer counter while Nino goes to set up his workbench. He gently lays out a dozen or so large lilies, trims the stems and removes a few of the large outer leaves.
Sho sits quietly and fiddles with his phone. Nino stretches up on his tiptoes to reach a shelf and grab a coil of raffia-wrapped twine, deftly winding it around the stems to keep them in place, then ducks down below his bench to find the right size box.
"What colour ribbons do you think she'd like?" asks Nino, forcing his voice to be breezy and calm.
Sho looks up from his phone, considering. "Well, her favourite colours are green and pink," he says slowly.
"Perfect," says Nino. He's got rolls of ribbon and tapes of all sorts of shades tucked in drawers under the desk, so he pulls out a roll of wide, grass-green mesh ribbon, and a narrower, gold-edged baby pink. Nino was helping his family in the store as soon as he was tall enough to reach the lowest shelves of flowers. His mother was (and remains, even in retirement) a firm believer that the look of the box or the paper on an arrangement was critical to a customer's happiness, and Nino has taken that to heart. He crafts a large bow with a rosette in the middle with the ribbons, then wraps the box with the green ribbon, layering the pink over the top. Florist's foam in the bottom, artful arrangement of the blossoms to their best advantage, and it's done.
"That looks wonderful," says Sho, shoving his phone in his pocket. "She'll be thrilled, I'm sure of it."
"Thank you very much," says Nino. He scribbles the charge on an invoice pad, tears it off and folds it before handing it to Sho. Sho glances at it briefly and places a Y10,000 note in the tray.
"Would you like a card to go with it, as well?" asks Nino.
"You think of everything, Ninomiya-san," says Sho with a nod. Nino pulls open a drawer and flicks through the notecards, pulling one out that's plain cream with gold edges and covered in gold and pink hearts.
"How about this one?"
Sho frowns. "It's a little bit lovey-dovey," he says, tilting his head to one side. "Maybe something a bit plainer?"
"Gosh, your lady must be very down-to-earth," Nino says, bending down to look for another card.
Sho's sudden guffaw of laughter makes Nino shoot upright, but he hits his head on the edge of the counter, and yelps in pain.
"Oh my god, Ninomiya-san, I'm so sorry," gasps Sho through his giggles, resting one hand on the counter. Nino rubs his head, wincing.
"What's so funny, anyway?" asks Nino sourly. Even through the throbbing pain in his head, he can't help noticing how Sho's eyes crinkle when he laughs.
"These - these flowers, aren't for my girlfriend, I don't have a girlfriend. Or any partner, for that matter. They're for my mother," Sho manages, still laughing.
Nino's brain comes screeching to a halt. He quickly rewinds through the conversation in his head, and... oh. Oh. He stares at Sho, who's still trying to catch his breath from laughing, and feels himself turn as red as a tomato.
"I apologise for the assumption," Nino say with feeling, still reeling from the sudden realisation that a) Sho doesn't have a much older girlfriend and b) he's explicitly told Nino he's single.
Sho, who has finally managed to get his laughter under control, waves his hand. "No no, it's fine, I didn't actually specify, but did you actually think I'd date someone thirty years older than me?"
"I'm not one to judge," says Nino with a smirk, sending Sho into another round of laughter.
"Naturally," replies Sho as Nino picks up the box of flowers and comes around to the front of the counter.
"Thank you very much for visiting Fleur de Tokyo again," says Nino with a small bow.
"Thank you, Ninomoya-san," says Sho with a smile that makes Nino's heart turn over. How is he so ridiculously attractive?
The bell jingles again as Sho leaves. And when he waves enthusiastically, Nino can't help but wave back.
---
As the weeks pass, Nino can almost set his watch by Sho's visits. He turns up on Tuesday mornings, at 8.30am -- well before the shop opens, of course, but Nino can't bring himself to turn Sho away.
The Tuesday after Sho purchases the arrangement for his mother, he drops in to say thank you, letting Nino know that she loved the flowers and the card, and brings a jar of her home-made pickled plums as a gift.
Two Tuesdays after that, he stops by with a steaming takeaway cup of tea. "I remembered you don't like coffee," says Sho with a smile, referencing the conversation that they'd had the previous week, where Nino mentioned that he didn't drink coffee because it gave him headaches. Nino had simply thanked him for being so thoughtful, and Sho bought an orchid, apparently a gift for his colleague's birthday.
Two weeks later, it's a battered book in English about vintage acoustic guitars (Nino is delighted). Then more tea the following week, and each time the conversation gets longer and more involved.
Sho tells him about being an economist (mostly boring, but it's a steady job), and his hobbies (he doesn't have a whole lot of free time, but likes going for drives and loves karaoke). Nino tells him about inheriting the shop from his parents, how they'd retired six years ago to care for Nino's ageing grandparents, who'd originally started the shop just after the war. About how he'd daydreamed of becoming a famous guitarist, but decided to follow in his mother's footsteps and take over the store to keep it in the family.
The air has turned chilly, red and yellow leaves clustering on the streets as the season turns to autumn. Early one morning, around seven or eight weeks after Sho first stumbled into his shop, Nino whistles softly to himself as he unlocks the shutters, cheery because he smashed a difficult boss battle the night before and because it’s Tuesday. And that means a visit from Sho.
Sure enough, at about 8am, a familiar face appears. Sho opens the front door, the bell above ringing bright as he pokes his neatly combed head through the door.
“Excuse me for intruding,” he says cheerfully, edging himself carefully around a tall glass vase of lisanthus perched on a low shelf. Nino ducks his head to hide a smile. At every visit, Sho took great pains to avoid even brushing against the flowers in case he knocked something over again.
“Hi Sakurai-san,” Nino says, his stomach swooping as Sho gives him a warm smile, his eyes crinkling. This guy is too damn cute.
“I brought tea, and milk buns,” says Sho, placing a paper bag on the sales counter. Nino moves the mess -- a dog-eared copy of an old issue of Famitsu, yesterday’s invoices that he hasn’t reconciled yet, crumpled cellophane, a coupon for a nearby family restaurant’s hamburg set, a scribbled sketch of a planned arrangement -- and his fingers bump Sho’s hand as they both reach for the bag at the same time.
Nino pulls his hand back as if he’d been burned, and he cringes as the blood rushes to his cheeks. Sho blinks, his hand still hovering over the bag.
“Sorry, sorry -- I uh, I just really like milk buns,” Nino says quickly, to cover the silence, then mentally kicks himself. Smooth, Ninomiya.
But Sho just smiles, apparently blissfully unaware of Nino’s face slowly transforming into an embarrassed tomato with hair. He reaches into the bag to pull out a still-warm bun and holds it out to Nino. “Good thing I bought extras, then,” he says.
Nino accepts the bun and grins back. “I’m glad I can count on you to feed your starving florist,” says Nino, taking a large bite. “This is delicious!”
Sho smiles with delight, his eyes lighting up. “I’m so glad you like them! When you mentioned that milk buns were your favourite, I knew the perfect place to go, they’ve been profiled recently by a gourmet blogger, and I’ve been dying for a reason to queue up…” Sho suddenly trails off, his face falling. “I’m sorry, I must seem so boring to you,” he mutters, looking at his hands.
Swallowing his mouthful of bun hurriedly, Nino nearly chokes as he rushes to reassure Sho.
“Not at all! I love that you’re passionate about good food, it’s not boring at all,” Nino insists. He briefly considers mentioning that his quiet life could be considered boring, but actually Nino doesn’t mind a bit that he’s a homebody.
“Really?” asks Sho. “I just… most of my colleagues and friends, they aren’t really interested in foodie stuff.”
Nino shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers and purses his lips. “Well, I’m not a foodie, and I’m not super interested in foodie stuff, but I’m definitely interested in people who are passionate about things.”
Sho throws back his head and laughs. “Your honesty is refreshing, Ninomiya-san. I like that.”
I like you too, Nino nearly replies, but he catches himself.
“You’d call me Nino,” Nino says. “Only my accountant calls me Ninomiya-san.”
“Nino,” says Sho, testing it out, and Nino feels warmed to the tips of his toes, hearing Sho’s light, friendly voice saying his name.
“Then you’ll call me Sho,” Sho continues with a smile and Nino’s heart melts.
“Sho it is,” Nino agrees.
---
Nino’s realised that Sho's regular visits are fast becoming the highlight of his days. He finds himself letting Sho know that his assistant, Yasu, works the shop on Wednesdays and Thursdays, just in case Sho stops by and wonders why he's not there.
Early one Tuesday morning, Sho brings him a fluffy pastry filled with sweet red bean paste. He sits on one of the stools for customers comfortably, like he belongs there among the flowers. Nino's got used to him being there regularly, chatting comfortably -- Sho in his navy suit and neat hair, Nino in his green apron with a dishevelled fringe and dirt under his fingernails. He can't quite remember what it was like before Sho fell into his life.
"I didn’t queue for this one. My next-door neighbour Jun is a pastry chef, and he sometimes brings his leftovers over to me," explains Sho between mouthfuls of pastry.
"Delicious," agrees Nino, brushing flakes of pastry off his apron. "Thank you for thinking of me this morning, Sho." The use of Sho's first name feels strange on his tongue. It still thrills Nino to hear Sho call him just 'Nino'.
"Don't mention it," says Sho with a smile. "I'd better get to work, I suppose," he continues, picking up his briefcase, but he lingers for a few moments, fingers drumming on the counter.
"Uh, Nino, I was wondering..." Sho says, his voice nervous.
A little tingle of excitement runs up Nino's spine. "Yes, Sho?" he says, catching Sho's eyes with his own. Sho blushes, and the air in the shop seems warmer.
"Um, I was wondering, would you like -- " but he's cut off by the front door bell ringing and a boisterously loud "Good morning, Nino!"
Nino looks up to see Aiba's hand raised in greeting. "Oh, uh, morning Aiba," Nino says, mentally cursing his friend for his comically bad timing.
Sho slides off the stool and picks up his briefcase. "Excuse me for intruding," he says formally, nodding at Aiba. He glances at Nino quickly, furtively, then seems to think better of it and turns to leave.
"Oh, Sho -- " begins Nino, but he's already gone.
"Did I interrupt something?" Aiba asks, confused. Nino just sighs, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
"I don't know, Aiba. He's a random who breezed in here a couple of months ago, desperate for a bouquet before I opened the shop, then later to buy some flowers for his mother, and now he seems to be here nearly every week," Nino says glumly. He follows Aiba out to the truck.
"Well, you could always tell him to go away if you don't want him around," says Aiba.
"No," Nino shoots back instantly, then falls silent.
Aiba turns, looking at Nino curiously. "Oooooh Nino, you like this guy!" Aiba says with surprise.
Nino feels the hot prickle of a blush on his cheeks and turns his face away from Aiba's questioning gaze. He hates how Aiba can get under his guard like that.
"You're not denying it," Aiba needles, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "You do like him! Nino the ice prince, you like someone, unbelievable."
"Shut it," Nino says, flapping his hand in a ‘whatever’ gesture. "And so what if I do, he's some fancy economist or something, I'm just a florist, and he's probably straight anyway, so it's nothing, just -- oh, for god's sake Aiba," Nino finishes with an eyeroll as Aiba hands him a bucket of red roses and makes a heinous kissy face.
"You should definitely ask him out," says Aiba, voice filled with glee. "Next time he's here."
"I will do nothing of the sort," replies Nino stiffly. Aiba shrugs, still grinning.
"Ask who out?" says a sleepy voice, and Nino groans. Ohno's arrived, and he looks extremely confused.
"No one! No one, okay?" he snaps.
"Nino likes someone, his name is Sakurai-san!"Aiba say excitedly to Ohno as Nino hoists two buckets of flowers and stomps back into the shop. Ohno follows, wisely not saying anything as Nino drops the two buckets on the floor with a crash.
"I'll just get the chalk, shall I?" says Ohno, entirely unruffled.
Shit, get a grip, Nino, he chides himself. He hadn't realised just how much he liked Sho. Shaking his head, Nino goes out to the little backyard to retrieve a watering can. He breaks off a sprig of lavender from the little terracotta pot and crushes it between his fingers, breathing in the soft scent. It's calming, and Nino smiles. A crush is just a crush, after all.
Nino walks back inside the shop, stretching his arms out behind him and rolling his neck. Everything will be fine -- Sho will be back next Tuesday, and he'll find out then what exactly Sho was about to ask him.
"All finished, Nino," says Ohno as he comes back inside and deposits the chalk on the counter, brushing chalk dust from his fingers. "I think you'll like today's picture." Raising an eyebrow, Nino follows Ohno out to the footpath, spotting Aiba crouched in front of the sandwich board and laughing fit to burst.
"What the -- Ohno, you little shit," growls Nino as he pushes Aiba aside, who falls on his butt, still laughing.
The sandwich board is decorated in pink and red hearts, with 'Fleur de Tokyo' in flowing script across the top, and an uncannily accurate sketch of Nino holding a giant bunch of red roses. And to add insult to injury, Ohno's drawn two bright pink hearts in place of Nino's eyes.
"You're both jerks, I can't believe I'm friends with either of you," says Nino, crossing his arms. But a little smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth. In spite of himself, Nino starts to laugh as well. He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo; the sketch is pretty good, after all. Maybe he'll show it to Sho next time he comes to the store.
---
But Sho doesn't come back the following Tuesday. Or the Tuesday after that. And as the days slip by, Nino starts to feel more and more ridiculous for wondering where Sho is, feeling bereft without his visits.
Aiba notices immediately. Nino is morosely sweeping the store early in the morning, and it's been over a month since Sho last came by. He fiddles with Sho's business card, which he keeps in the pocket of his apron, trying to work up the nerve to call Sho, find out if something's happened -- if he's hurt, or ill, or if he just decided that Nino was too boring to hang out with anymore.
"Nino, delivery!" calls Aiba, waving as he climbs out of the van. With a little sigh, Nino leans the broom against the wall and trudges out the street.
"Morning Aiba," he says, taking the first buckets of flowers.
"Nino, what's wrong?" asks Aiba, following with two buckets looped easily over each arm. "You've been moping for weeks, Ohno and I have both noticed, what's going on?"
"Nothing," says Nino immediately. "I'm fine."
"You are not," says Aiba, crossing his arms and blocking Nino's exit back out the front door to van. "Something's bothering you. Is it that Sakurai Sho guy? Did he dump you? Do I need go beat him up?" pesters Aiba. Nino lets out a snort of laughter, imagining Aiba in his delivery uniform taking a wild swing at a be-suited Sho.
"Yes, no, and no, in that order," says Nino. "But I'm fine, Aiba-shi. No problems. In fact, let's go out tonight after work -- you've been hassling me to take a break for months," he continues, seeing a quick way to both get Aiba off the subject and an opportunity to get himself drunk enough to be able to forget about Sho for an evening.
Aiba grins. "I'll take your mind off things, don't you worry!" he says, giving Nino a thumbs-up.
Later that evening, after the sun has set and Nino's wheeled in all the flowers and shelves and pulled down the roller shutter, Aiba meets Nino in front of the store. The air has a distinct chill, and Nino shivers, pulling his scarf more tightly around his neck. Following Aiba down a small laneway and into a cosy, smoky bar, he wonders what Sho's doing -- if he's still at the office, tapping away on his computer, or maybe finished and having a relaxing drink with some co-workers.
Or maybe like Nino, he goes home most evenings, wondering what he's doing with his life.
"Nino! No thinking, just drinking!" says Aiba with mock-finger shake. He pushes a large glass of beer across the table and lifts his own glass. "Cheers." Nino clinks his glass with Aiba's and takes a long gulp.
Several glasses of beer and plates of yakitori later, Nino's feeling pleasantly buzzed. He normally doesn't like to go out much -- too noisy, too many people, too expensive -- but he's having a good time, surprisingly. There's just enough people talking and eating for the bar to feel comforting and anonymous, rather than overwhelming; the clinking of glassware, the pungent smell of frying chicken and a thin, lingering haze of cigarette smoke feels worlds away from the quiet serenity of Fleur de Tokyo, and strangely, it's just what Nino needs.
Aiba calls for another round of beers, then leans forward, resting his chin on one hand and looking pensively at Nino.
"What?" asks Nino. "Stop looking at me like that, Aiba, you're freaking me out."
"You've got Sho's number right?" Aiba asks suddenly.
Nino feels himself flush at the mention of Sho's name, a fizzy feeling running down his spine. He'd managed to forget about Sho until now, enjoying drinking and talking with Aiba about games and pets and the odd people Aiba meets on his deliveries.
"No, what, no -- I just have his card, it's only his work number," Nino protests. "Look, see?" He pulls the card from his wallet, blushing harder as he realises how creased it is from constantly fiddling with it.
Taking the card from Nino's outstretched fingers, Aiba examines it closely. "Aha!" he says triumphantly. "Look, it has his email address on it! You should message him now, ask him to come out."
"What? No fucking way Aiba, no way. I haven't seen him in weeks, it would be weird." Nino rubs his forehead, and takes another long swig of beer. "And anyway, that's his work email and it's nearly midnight, I doubt even he'd be at work still."
"Yeah, but you've said he's a real workaholic, I bet he has his work email linked to his phone. Do it do it do it," says Aiba, smacking his fist on the table. "C'mon Nino, don't you at least want to know why he hasn't been around?"
Nino grimaces because dammit, Aiba's right. He does want to know why the hell Sho stopped visiting. The last three or four times he came by the shop he didn't even pretend to be buying flowers, just waltzed in with a tea for Nino and a coffee for himself, and sat at the counter like he belonged there. Like he was part of Nino's life, the same as Aiba's cheery wave with every delivery, the same as Ohno's absent-minded smile and beautiful chalk illustrations on Fleur de Tokyo's sandwich board.
Sho just seemed to fit in neatly, like he'd always been there. And Nino misses him.
"Yeah... yeah, I do want to know," says Nino slowly, unwillingly. "But this is a stupid idea. I'm tipsy, you're drunk -- " Aiba begins to protest loudly that he is not drunk, and Nino smiles in spite of himself. "Aiba-shi, you are drunk and don't pretend otherwise. I at least have my wits about me enough to know that drunk emailing Sho is bad idea." Nino kind of wishes he were spontaneous and silly enough to drunk-email Sho, but his brain is two steps ahead of his heart.
"Well, what're you gonna do then?" asks Aiba, slurring slightly as he flops against the wall of the booth and chugs down the last quarter of his beer.
"I'm going to do what any other lovestruck fool would do," says Nino. He drums his fingers on the table, looking up at the ceiling then back at Aiba.
"I'm going to send him flowers."
---
Of course, now that Nino's made up his mind to do send Sho flowers, he's at a loss as to what kind of bouquet to send. For the next week, Aiba sends him a daily text message, asking if Nino's sent Sho the flowers yet, until Nino finally texts back that Aiba's not allowed to hassle him on pain of Nino switching delivery companies.
As the weather starts to warm, the scent of spring in the air, Nino's schedule heats up. It's wedding season, and the orders for boutonnieres and bouquets, garlands and centrepieces, all start adding up. Yasu comes on extra days to help out with some of the bigger wedding orders, and what with juggling those, supervising Yasu, and keeping up with the rest of the shop's upkeep, Nino can't seem to find the time to pick out the perfect arrangement.
He thinks about it constantly though. Sitting on the train, practicing guitar at home, playing video games -- in the back of his mind, he's wondering what flowers will send the right message.
One bright sunny morning in September, Nino finally feels like he has a chance to breathe. Yasu's gone with Aiba to deliver a truckload of flowers to a massive wedding on the outskirts of Tokyo, and the shop is blessedly quiet.
"Right, flowers, flowers for Sho," Nino mutters to himself. He's determined to convey the perfect message -- and as a florist, if he can't pick out the right gift for someone he has a crush on, he probably should get into another line of work.
Sunlight streams in through the open front doors as Nino wanders slowly through his store. He looks at the bunches of velvety-petalled roses, and immediately dismisses them -- too romantic, a little too cliche for his tastes, and probably for Sho's as well. Orchids are lovely, and Nino contemplates sending Sho a potted blue and purple specimen that's gorgeous, but it feels a little impersonal. Nino often gets a sense of personality from his flowers, and orchids can be snobbish and standoffish to him.
"Gerberas?" he wonders aloud, crouch down to consider of the brightly coloured daisies. He decides against them, they're a little too cheerful, given he's not seen Sho for weeks and weeks. Lilies remind him too much of Sho's mother, given the bouquet he made for her birthday, and tulips make him think of dining room centrepieces.
He pauses in front of the small display of bonsai, considering. Sho seems like the type who would appreciate a bonsai, but Nino doesn't do much of the work himself -- his father is skilled at growing and training bonsai, so all Nino does is care for them once they're in the store for sale, and they tend to sell quickly. And Nino feels almost like it would be cheating to give Sho something he hasn't put together himself.
Then his eyes fall on the stand of peonies -- the bright blossoms that Sho had chosen the first time he came barrelling into the shop, knocking everything over and panicking. Nino smiles, brushing his fingertips along the petal of one deep magenta bloom. Peonies will be perfect. And maybe with with a few blooms of white jasmine among them.
Nino dithers over choosing the most perfectly shaped blooms, making sure there are no wilted petals or dark spots on the leaves, and carefully carries his chosen flowers over to the workbench. Years of experience working with flowers means that Nino works basically on autopilot, his mind drifting, wondering what has happened to Sho, if this is the stupidest idea he's ever had, if he should just turf the damn flowers and forget about Sho completely. With a sigh, Nino slumps over his workbench, resting his head on his hands.
The shop bell tinkles, and Nino starts upright, pasting a welcoming smile on his face.
"Good morning, welcome to Fleur de Tokyo, can I help you?" asks Nino.
The customer -- a tallish, lean man in his early thirties, Nino guesses -- pulls off his sunglasses and looks around, then his focus narrows in on Nino.
"Are you Ninomiya-san? The florist?" he asks.
Nino raises an eyebrow. "I'm Ninomiya, a florist. Who's asking?"
The customer crosses the floor in quick strides and looms over the counter at Nino. He's dressed in artfully ripped jeans and a casual button down shirt, but also has what looks like a white chef's jacket looped over one arm.
"I'm Matsumoto Jun." He give Nino a withering look, and Nino responds with a blank stare. "Sakurai Sho's next-door neighbour," he clarifies.
"Sho's neighbour?" Nino repeats. His heart thumps in his chest.
Jun grins, showing a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "Yes, his neighbour. So you're the famous Nino, huh?" he says.
Nino shrugs. "I don't know about that. I haven't seen him in weeks," he says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Jun blinks. "What? I know he's been busy travelling for work but... he hasn't contacted you at all?" he asks, clearly surprised.
"Nope. Guess I can't have been that famous after all," Nino replies, turning back to his workbench and resisting the urge to sweep the peonies to the floor. Travelling for work? Sho had his business card, would it have killed him to call?
"He's shy, you know," Jun comments, hooking a stool with his foot and sitting down at the counter. "And he wasn't sure if you were even interested in him, or just being polite."
"Just being polite, what the -- I'm not even that polite to my actual customers!" Jun lets out a snort as Nino continues. "Let alone dudes who come to the shop every week without buying anything and talking to me. Of course I like him!" Nino sputters.
Jun smirks. "Yeah, no kidding. Well, he's worked himself into a bit of lather over it all -- I don't want him to get that drunk in my apartment ever again, so please put him out of his misery?"
Nino's mind has come careening to a halt -- Sho likes him. He's got third-party confirmation.
Suddenly the flowers don't seem like such a foolish idea after all.
"Ninomiya?" Jun flaps a hand in front of Nino's face.
"Oh right, sure, yeah. Of course. I'll contact him," Nino says. "Thanks for stopping by."
"No problem," replies Jun, sliding off the stool and straightening in one graceful movement. "Please look out for Sho -- he really is a good guy, if a bit of a dolt."
Nino bows in response as Jun strides out the front door (without knocking over a single thing, Nino notes, amused). Then he turns back to his workbench, staring down at the bundle of peonies.
After a moment, Nino squares his shoulders and pulls out his secateurs. Quickly and neatly, he prepares the stems, then pulls out a beautifully embossed green box and wraps gold and crimson ribbons around it. Nino ponders whether to add another type of flower, or style them more artistically, but his instincts tell him to keep it simple, arranging the peonies in a simple burst of colour against the green, dotted with a few white jasmine flowers.
Nino flicks through his notecards, trying to find something to match. He chooses a plain gold one, and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Then Nino pauses, pen hovering above the card. What should he say? Nino chews his bottom lip, twirling the pen between his fingers.
Finally, he scribbles: Sho, I bought you a coffee last time you visited so you owe me Y400. Regards, Nino.
Nino smirks to himself. But as much as he likes to be prickly and acerbic, he can't quite bring himself to leave the note at that, and finds himself adding a little postscript.
P.S. I miss your visits.
Then, before he can lose his nerve, Nino sends Aiba a text: Hey Aiba, can you make a special delivery for me?
---
The air is heavy and still, dark grey storm clouds scudding across the Tokyo skyline. A roll of thunder echoes overhead.
Nino looks at the little clock perched next to the cash register. Time to close up, especially with the storm coming on. He goes out to the backyard, securing a couple of pots on wheels and putting away loose bits and pieces of rubbish as the wind starts to gust. Snapping off a sprig of lavender, Nino sniffs it with a smile. He still hasn't heard anything from Sho, now more than a week after Aiba made his delivery, but at least there's still things like lavender in the world.
The thunder rolls again as Nino walks back into the shop, straightening the orchids, picking up any fallen foliage, neatening the bonsai. He heads out the front to start bringing the wheeled shelves of flowers in, and large drops of rain to start to fall.
"Dammit," mutters Nino. And as he pushes the first shelf inside, it's like the heavens open, and rain pours from the sky, sudden and drenching.
"God fucking dammit," curses Nino. He resigns himself to getting soaked, untying his apron and draping it over a stool, then stepping back out into the rain. Rivulets of water run down the back of his neck, and as irritated as he is with getting wet, Nino can't help but enjoy the plinking of raindrops on the wooden roof of the Fleur de Tokyo. Quiet stillness reigns as only a few brave souls venture out into the sudden downpour.
Nino's fringe is plastered to his forehead, and he pushes it back out of his eyes as he turns to grab two large buckets filled with wet chrysanthemums. But he nearly drops them as he hears a voice call through the rain.
"Nino!"
From a distance, Sakurai Sho cuts a sadly bedraggled figure, hair dripping, blue suit waterlogged, and his leather shoes probably ruined. He races up the street towards Fleur de Tokyo, splashing wildly through puddles, and stopping short right in front of Nino, gasping slightly for breath. Nino clutches the buckets of chrysanthemums, his heart leaping in his chest as Sho shucks off his sodden jacket, leaving his shirt plastered to his skin.
"He-hello," Nino replies, tongue-tied. The rain eases, still steady, but not as heavy as the earlier downpour.
"I'm sorry, Nino," Sho says, stepping closer, and Nino almost forgets to breathe. How was it possible for Sho to still be this attractive, his hair damply falling his eyes.
"Sorry?" Nino asks.
"I'll explain properly later, but I was called away on an emergency business trip, and I was too embarrassed to call. I only got your flowers this morning, I came straight here," Sho says, words tumbling out in a rush. He clenches and unclenches his fingers, then reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "Ninomiya-san -- Nino, I, I..." he trails off.
And Nino smiles, because this the Sho he knows, the Sho, that, if he's honest with himself, he fell in love with as soon he walked through Nino's front door and knocked over a vase of roses. Sho, awkward, nervous, and gorgeous as hell.
"Sho, you just got back from a business trip and came here directly, even though it's pouring with rain and the middle of your work day," Nino says, one corner of his mouth hooking up in a little smirk. "You could have called, you know. Or texted. Sent a carrier pigeon, even." The rain is still falling, but Nino doesn't even notice how wet he is, only looking at the little droplets of water clinging to Sho's eyelashes.
Sho stares at him blankly for moment, and then he smiles too, his eyes crinkling, and takes another step, so close that Nino can feel the flutter of Sho's breath on his cheek.
"Yeah, but then I couldn't do this," Sho murmurs, and wrapping his hands around Nino's upper arms, leans down and kisses him.
Holy shit. Nino's mind seems to short-circuit. There's only the feeling of Sho's mouth on his, the warmth of Sho's hands on his arms, pulling him close, and Nino drops the buckets of chrysanthemums with a crash.
Sho jumps back with a start as the flowers end up strewn around his feet, petals and leaves all over the ground.
"Shit, shit, fuck, shit," Nino swears, blushing furiously. He bends down to pick up the buckets and dump the handfuls of flowers back in.
"Now who's the clumsy one," says Sho smugly, squatting to help.
"This is your fault," Nino shoots back. "You took me by surprise!"
Sho's face falls. "I didn't mean to -- your note, I thought you were -- oh shitting hell," Sho says, looking as white as a sheet. "I'm sorry."
Nino pushes his hair back from his forehead, and grabs Sho's hand. "Don't apologise," he says. Pulling himself and Sho upright, Nino holds the bucket of ruined flowers and walks inside, towing Sho behind him.
"Don't ever apologise for this, Sakurai Sho," Nino says once they're both safely inside. The rain continues to fall. He puts the bucket down, and pulls Sho close, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Sho's damp hair and kissing him. And it's perfect, the smell of ozone and dirt and the intangible scent that's Sho himself, the sound of water hitting the pavement and Sho's mouth soft and warm on Nino's.
They break apart with a gasp.
"Nino," says Sho, and Nino shivers at how Sho says his name, like it's something soft and delicate. "Nino, I..."
"I'm so glad you came back," says Nino. "I -- I missed you. Your visits were the highlight of my week."
Sho grins. "Mine too. I'm sorry, I just... didn't know what to do, and my work was ramping up, then there was the business trip..."
"Guess it's a good thing I sent you those damn peonies then," says Nino. "And that your neighbour stopped by to tell me that you were hopelessly in love with me."
Sho rolls his eyes. "That Matsumoto Jun cannot be trusted with a secret," he grumbles. He pauses, and flushes. "I don't know what he said to you, but I was drunk at the time."
With a laugh, Nino tugs Sho close again. "Sure sure, I've got your number, Sakurai Sho."
"Yeah well, see if I ever give you your coffee money back," Sho says.
Nino twines his fingers in Sho's, and smiles.
"You can keep it."
~fin~
From: cutselvage
Title: The Language of Flowers
Pairing/Focus: Sho/Nino
Rating: G
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Nino the cranky florist with a soft heart meets Sakurai Sho, the clumsy economist.
Notes: I took a tiny part of one of your prompts and ran with it! Hope you enjoy it.
Nino loves the scent of lavender. It's old-fashioned, and not commonly requested in the upscale bouquets or floral centrepieces that make up the bulk of the orders that come to Fleur de Tokyo, his flower shop, but he keeps a pot in the sunny backyard behind the store, and has several dried bunches hanging over his workbench.
The Fleur de Tokyo is a small 'select shop', located down one of the many winding back alleys that spiral out from Shibuya Station. Set slightly back from the street, with large folding doors that Nino opens wide on sunny days, the shop is filled with flowers, leafy plants, even a few small trees and shrubs, including the ever-present terracotta pot filled with lavender.
Early each morning, Nino rolls up the metal shutters and unlocks the main door, the sound of the bell rippling through the quiet streets. If the forecast is good, he opens the glass folding doors, and moves the wheeled shelving to to face the street. He waters the flowers, checks his small bonsai collection, and tends to the orchids, one of his most popular sellers.
It takes about half an hour to get the shelves in order. And on delivery day, like today, the van will usually pull up just as Nino drags the Fleur de Tokyo sandwich board outside.
"Good morning, Nino!" says the driver cheerfully, hopping out of the van and walking around to open the back door.
Nino just makes a vague grunting noise. "Hey Aiba."
Aiba grins, eyes crinkling. "Man, it's been five years and you're still grumpy in the mornings."
"I'll feel more functional once Ohno turns up," replies Nino, rubbing his hand across his face. "Let's unload."
Aiba nods, passing bucket after bucket of fresh flowers to Nino that contain fluffy chrysanthemums, elegantly drooping lilies, fern fronds, huge bunches of roses, and much more besides. Burying his face briefly in a cluster of jasmine, Nino inhales deeply. Along with lavender, jasmine is one of his favourite scents.
"Anything interesting to work on today?" asks Aiba as he passes the last bunch of asters to Nino.
A quick smile flashes across Nino's face. "I'm working on a special bouquet, the customer requested an arrangement that has a similar scent to his fiance's favourite perfume. Otherwise just the usual simple stuff for daily sale."
"Sounds like fun," says Aiba. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, take care!"
Nino waves as Aiba reverses, none too carefully, back down the street, and turns as he hears someone call his name.
"Hey, Nino!"
A small figure comes jogging up to Nino, holding out a takeaway cup that steams slightly.
"Oh, Ohno, thank you," says Nino. Ohno grins, doffing his cap and bowing slightly.
"Sorry I'm late, I overslept and missed my train. I'll get started on the sandwich board now."
"Maybe lilies today? I've got lots of peace lilies in stock," says Nino, gesturing to the buckets of lilies on the floor of the shop.
Ohno nods, pulling open the small front door and emerging a moment later with a box of coloured chalk and a small folding stool. Setting himself up outside the front door, Ohno begins to sketch out the rough outline of the lilies in full bloom, and writing the text "Fresh Flowers - Fleur de Tokyo" in a fancy script above.
Nino sips his tea as he moves through the shop, stacking buckets of flowers on the metal shelves, ready for the first customers of the day. Shrugging on a dark green apron and pinning on his name badge, Nino readies his tools on his workbench as Ohno finishes the day's artwork and comes inside to return the chalk.
"All done!" says Ohno, dusting the chalk powder from his fingers.
"Thanks. Decided what flowers you want yet?" Nino asks. Old friends since their teens, Ohno does the art for Fleur de Tokyo’s chalkboard once a week, in exchange for a fresh bunch of flowers to decorate the small studio he works in as a sculptor nearby.
Ohno hums thoughtfully, bending to stroke the petals of a sunflower.
"The other artist I'm sharing with at the moment doesn't like super strong scents... maybe some daisies or cosmos?" he asks.
"No problem, I'll give you a mix." Pulling out a pair of secateurs from his apron pocket, Nino deftly trims the stems of Ohno's requested flowers, and wraps them neatly in tissue paper and cellophane.
"Thanks Nino, I'll see you later -- I'm in the studio all day today if you need anything," says Ohno, cradling the bunch in one arm and flicking his fingers in wave.
From Nino's workbench that's set perpendicular to the sales counter in the middle of the shop, he can see anyone passing by, and this quiet time of the morning before he opens the store to customers, when there's few pedestrians and little traffic, is his favourite time of the day. He reaches up to sniff a bunch of dried lavender and closes his eyes briefly.
"Um, excuse me," a voice interrupts.
Nino lets out a tiny sigh, and turns to face the front windows.
"I'm sorry, we don't open until ten o'clock -- " Nino pauses mid-sentence. In front of him is a man about his age, dressed in a slightly rumpled navy suit and soft blue shirt, with neatly parted hair. He's holding a brown leather briefcase, and has an anguished expression on his face.
"Please excuse me for bothering you so early," says the stranger. "I'm a little desperate -- you see, my boss urgently needs a gift of flowers for an important client, and we have a meeting at nine o'clock -- you're the third florist I've tried, would you mind awfully...?" the man trails off.
Nino wants to say no, to tell this stranger to get lost, but the desperation in the man's face is palpable, and Nino isn't completely heartless.
"Oh, alright, I suppose," Nino says grudgingly. "Come in and tell me what you'd like -- oh, bloody hell," exclaims Nino as the man takes a step inside and promptly knocks over a tall vase holding long-stemmed roses, sending it smashing to the floor with water and flowers everywhere.
A look of horror crosses the customer's face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, here, let me," he stammers, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the puddle of water.
Nino rolls his eyes. "Okay, just -- just, sit down here, and don't move. What sort of flowers does your boss need?"
The man steps gingerly over the mess and sits on the tall stool in front of the counter, clutching his briefcase to his chest. "I'm so sorry," he repeats.
"Never mind that," says Nino, scooping up the bundles of roses and shoving them in another bucket. He'll mop up the water when he's managed to get this fool out of his shop. "Ow." A thorny stem manages to get through his glove, and Nino yanks it off, sucking his finger. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his early customer blushing, and Nino can't help smirking a tiny bit as he replaces his glove.
"What sort of flowers do you need?"
Looking around, the man's eyes light up as he spots the brightly coloured peonies. "Those ones, I'm sorry, I'm terrible with anything flowers or nature, but a bunch of those ones, perhaps?"
"Something colourful?" prompts Nino. "Peonies are lovely, but they do best when mixed with glossy green leaves, to set off the brilliant colour," he continues, pulling out a few handfuls of the peonies, along with a bunch of greenery. "Reds, pinks, oranges all right?"
"You're the expert," says the customer, clutching his briefcase tightly.
Nino raises an eyebrow. "I suppose so."
Nino sets the flowers down on his workbench, neatly strips off the excess leaves and trims the stems, then drops them in a short, narrow vase to arrange the individual blooms to their best advantage, mixing in the greenery, then wrapping the stems in tissue paper.
As Nino finishes the bouquet, tying a wide silk ribbon around the paper-wrapped stems, he turns, catching the customer's eye. The man flushes slightly, slides off the stool and pulls a wallet from his pocket.
"I'm so sorry for the bother," he begins, but Nino cuts him off.
"That will be 5,000 yen," he says firmly. It's higher than what he'd normally charge, but it is before opening time.
The customer doesn't bat an eyelid though, placing a Y5,000 note in the small green tray on the counter. Nino rings up the purchase, then takes the flowers and comes around the front of the counter and holds them out with a small bow. The man's fingers brush against Nino's gloved hands as he takes them.
"Thank you so very much, uh, Ninomiya-san," says the customer, squinting at the name-tag pinned to Nino's apron.
"You're welcome -- I hope the client likes them," replies Nino.
The man turns to make his way through the open glass doors.
"Oh, please use the front door, it'll save you knocking anything else over," says Nino with a mischievous grin. The customer lets out a short laugh, and the bell over the door tinkles as he leaves.
Nino watches in amusement as his customer hitches the flowers under one arm and fishes a cellphone out of his jacket pocket, balancing it against his shoulder. The man turns back to wave and nearly drops the bouquet, and Nino smiles ruefully. He tidies up the mess of porcelain and discards the roses that aren't salvageable, putting the remaining ones in a spare vase.
Sitting behind the front counter to finish his tea, Nino notices a business card tucked under the cash tray.
Sakurai Sho
Economist
JE Enterprises Pty Ltd
"Sakurai Sho," Nino murmurs.
---
It's a slow day at the shop. Nino sells a few bouquets, one or two orchids, and prepares a quote for a wedding. He texts Ohno, asking him to mind the shop for half an hour while Nino ducks out to get a quick lunch from the convenience store and visit a music store a few blocks away.
The sun is starting to sink, shadows lengthening across the street when Nino hears the bell tinkle again, not long before he normally starts to move the display inside in preparation to close.
"Uh, excuse me..." a familiar voice trails off.
Nino looks up, a frown creasing his forehead. Late customers are always the most likely to agonise and dither over a selection, and all he wants is to go home and restring his guitar with the new strings he bought at lunch time.
"Oh, it's you again," asks Nino without thinking, and winces.
Sakurai Sho lets out a huff of laughter. "I can't blame you for that."
"I came to apologise once more for causing you trouble this morning," Sho continues, bowing deeply. He holds a wrapped box out to Nino. "Please, it's nothing, but..."
Nino stares at the elaborately gift-wrapped box of fancy chocolate truffles, tied with gold satin ribbons. It's more like something a man might give his girlfriend, not a grumpy florist who did him a pretty harmless favour.
"Er... is this too much? I'm sorry, I just felt so dreadful about what happened this morning, and the client absolutely loved the flowers, they were perfect," Sho says, stumbling over the words.
Realising he's been staring at Sho for several seconds (specifically, at the way one lock of hair flops perfectly over Sho's left eye), Nino starts, and takes the offered box. The paper feels embossed and expensive under his fingers.
"No -- no, thank you. They're lovely, you really shouldn't have," Nino says automatically.
Sho smiles, relieved. "Not at all, I had to do something."
"Thank you," says Nino again.
Sho scratches the back of his neck, looking over Nino's shoulder. The silence stretches out, but Nino doesn't quite know what to say.
"I'd better go," Sho says finally, and Nino wonders if he can hear a tiny note of disappointment in Sho's voice.
"Thank you for stopping by, and for the truffles. I'm sure they'll be delicious," says Nino in reply, bowing slightly.
"Perhaps you'd better give me your card, in case I need flowers again," says Sho, as he's almost out the door.
"Oh -- yes, of course," says Nino, groping in the pocket of his apron and handing a card to Sho, who accepts it with both hands and carefully reads both sides before placing it in his wallet.
"Well, I -- I -- thank you again, Ninomiya," Sho says, knocking an orchid over with his briefcase as he turns to leave.
"It's fine! It's fine, it's just a bit of dirt," says Nino hurriedly as Sho's face falls. "I'm closing up and need to sweep anyway, it's no problem," Nino says.
"I'd really better go before I destroy the rest of your inventory," says Sho with a wry smile, stepping carefully around the dirt and out the front door, the bell tinkling behind him.
As he sweeps up the dirt and starts bringing in the flower display, Nino hums to himself, wondering if he'll see Sho again. Of course, he could always call him, but the number on the card is for Sho's office, and Nino can't quite imagine being bold enough to call and explain to the receptionist that he wants to speak to one of their economists to ask him out.
The street lamps are flickering in the twilight as Nino locks the door and pulls the roller shutter down. Around him, the streets are busy with cool kids shopping at the vintage store across the street, sharply-suited businessmen and women walking briskly to the train station, tourists gawking at the massive billboards. Nino slings his bag over his shoulder, puts on a pair of headphones and moves through the crowd easily, letting the noise of the city wash over him like a stream flowing over stones.
He takes the subway home to his small, neat apartment. Leftover curry and rice for dinner, half-watching a variety show, texting an old friend who messages to announce his engagement and request that Nino do the flowers. By the time he's washed his dishes and taken a bath, it's late, and he's got another early start the next morning.
As Nino puts on pyjamas and crawls under the covers of his futon, he realises that he hasn't been able to get Sakurai Sho out of his head all evening.
With loud sigh, Nino switches off the lamp.
---
Four days later, on a cloudy Saturday morning, Sho turns up at Fleur de Tokyo again.
"Hi Ninomiya-san," Sho says cheerfully as the bell rings. Nino's on the phone to his friend's fiance, scribbling furiously as she runs through a list of the flowers she wants for the wedding, so he raises his index finger to signal 'just a moment'.
When he finally finishes, Nino spots Sho hunched over a bonsai pine, touching the miniature needles gently with a fingertip.
"Hello again, Sakurai-san," says Nino. "Can I help you?"
Sho straightens and turns to face Nino, and Nino eyes him, curious about Sho's weekend clothes. Instead of the navy suit, Sho's wearing a grey hoodie, faded blue jeans, and a pair of bright red hi-top sneakers.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Sho looks over the top of Nino's head.
"I'd like to get some flowers for a special lady," he says, and Nino's heart sinks. Of course. No one as cute as Sho would be without a girlfriend (though he's not wearing a ring so probably not married, Nino thinks).
"Of course," says Nino, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Roses? The dozen red roses is a classic for a reason." Nino gestures expansively to the rack holding bunches of velvety red, pink, and yellow blooms.
Sho frowns. "Roses are nice, but a bit too extravagant for her taste, I think," he says, eyes scanning the shop. "She's not into anything super over-the-top."
Nino purses his lips, and walks over to shelf of pre-made bouquets. "How about a mixed bouquet of flowers in similar shades? Colourful, long-lasting, and very fashionable at the moment," Nino says, waving his hand at a bunch of flowers all in shades of pink.
Tilting his head to one side, Sho steps closer to Nino and squints at the suggested bouquet, gerberas and asters and poppies and a few other types. Nino catches a faint scent of cologne, and damn if Sho doesn't smell good. Really good.
Sho straightens. "They're beautiful, but I'm not certain that she'd like something so trendy. She's quite traditional, you know. A bit old-fashioned."
"She must be a special woman, for you to be so careful," Nino says.
"Oh yes! And it's not every day she turns sixty, so it's got to be just right," Sho replies, walking gingerly around Fleur de Tokyo's displays, picking up bouquets and sniffing blooms.
Nino's jaw actually drops, and he quickly smooths his expression from astonishment to polite nonchalance. Sixty?! Sho couldn't be more than a couple of years older than Nino himself, maybe in his mid-thirties at most.
"Gosh, well then, we should make sure she gets an appropriate floral arrangement befitting such a milestone."
Beaming, Sho nods, and points to a vase of calla lilies in pink and white. "Those, I think those will be absolutely perfect," he says, taking a seat at the customer counter while Nino goes to set up his workbench. He gently lays out a dozen or so large lilies, trims the stems and removes a few of the large outer leaves.
Sho sits quietly and fiddles with his phone. Nino stretches up on his tiptoes to reach a shelf and grab a coil of raffia-wrapped twine, deftly winding it around the stems to keep them in place, then ducks down below his bench to find the right size box.
"What colour ribbons do you think she'd like?" asks Nino, forcing his voice to be breezy and calm.
Sho looks up from his phone, considering. "Well, her favourite colours are green and pink," he says slowly.
"Perfect," says Nino. He's got rolls of ribbon and tapes of all sorts of shades tucked in drawers under the desk, so he pulls out a roll of wide, grass-green mesh ribbon, and a narrower, gold-edged baby pink. Nino was helping his family in the store as soon as he was tall enough to reach the lowest shelves of flowers. His mother was (and remains, even in retirement) a firm believer that the look of the box or the paper on an arrangement was critical to a customer's happiness, and Nino has taken that to heart. He crafts a large bow with a rosette in the middle with the ribbons, then wraps the box with the green ribbon, layering the pink over the top. Florist's foam in the bottom, artful arrangement of the blossoms to their best advantage, and it's done.
"That looks wonderful," says Sho, shoving his phone in his pocket. "She'll be thrilled, I'm sure of it."
"Thank you very much," says Nino. He scribbles the charge on an invoice pad, tears it off and folds it before handing it to Sho. Sho glances at it briefly and places a Y10,000 note in the tray.
"Would you like a card to go with it, as well?" asks Nino.
"You think of everything, Ninomiya-san," says Sho with a nod. Nino pulls open a drawer and flicks through the notecards, pulling one out that's plain cream with gold edges and covered in gold and pink hearts.
"How about this one?"
Sho frowns. "It's a little bit lovey-dovey," he says, tilting his head to one side. "Maybe something a bit plainer?"
"Gosh, your lady must be very down-to-earth," Nino says, bending down to look for another card.
Sho's sudden guffaw of laughter makes Nino shoot upright, but he hits his head on the edge of the counter, and yelps in pain.
"Oh my god, Ninomiya-san, I'm so sorry," gasps Sho through his giggles, resting one hand on the counter. Nino rubs his head, wincing.
"What's so funny, anyway?" asks Nino sourly. Even through the throbbing pain in his head, he can't help noticing how Sho's eyes crinkle when he laughs.
"These - these flowers, aren't for my girlfriend, I don't have a girlfriend. Or any partner, for that matter. They're for my mother," Sho manages, still laughing.
Nino's brain comes screeching to a halt. He quickly rewinds through the conversation in his head, and... oh. Oh. He stares at Sho, who's still trying to catch his breath from laughing, and feels himself turn as red as a tomato.
"I apologise for the assumption," Nino say with feeling, still reeling from the sudden realisation that a) Sho doesn't have a much older girlfriend and b) he's explicitly told Nino he's single.
Sho, who has finally managed to get his laughter under control, waves his hand. "No no, it's fine, I didn't actually specify, but did you actually think I'd date someone thirty years older than me?"
"I'm not one to judge," says Nino with a smirk, sending Sho into another round of laughter.
"Naturally," replies Sho as Nino picks up the box of flowers and comes around to the front of the counter.
"Thank you very much for visiting Fleur de Tokyo again," says Nino with a small bow.
"Thank you, Ninomoya-san," says Sho with a smile that makes Nino's heart turn over. How is he so ridiculously attractive?
The bell jingles again as Sho leaves. And when he waves enthusiastically, Nino can't help but wave back.
---
As the weeks pass, Nino can almost set his watch by Sho's visits. He turns up on Tuesday mornings, at 8.30am -- well before the shop opens, of course, but Nino can't bring himself to turn Sho away.
The Tuesday after Sho purchases the arrangement for his mother, he drops in to say thank you, letting Nino know that she loved the flowers and the card, and brings a jar of her home-made pickled plums as a gift.
Two Tuesdays after that, he stops by with a steaming takeaway cup of tea. "I remembered you don't like coffee," says Sho with a smile, referencing the conversation that they'd had the previous week, where Nino mentioned that he didn't drink coffee because it gave him headaches. Nino had simply thanked him for being so thoughtful, and Sho bought an orchid, apparently a gift for his colleague's birthday.
Two weeks later, it's a battered book in English about vintage acoustic guitars (Nino is delighted). Then more tea the following week, and each time the conversation gets longer and more involved.
Sho tells him about being an economist (mostly boring, but it's a steady job), and his hobbies (he doesn't have a whole lot of free time, but likes going for drives and loves karaoke). Nino tells him about inheriting the shop from his parents, how they'd retired six years ago to care for Nino's ageing grandparents, who'd originally started the shop just after the war. About how he'd daydreamed of becoming a famous guitarist, but decided to follow in his mother's footsteps and take over the store to keep it in the family.
The air has turned chilly, red and yellow leaves clustering on the streets as the season turns to autumn. Early one morning, around seven or eight weeks after Sho first stumbled into his shop, Nino whistles softly to himself as he unlocks the shutters, cheery because he smashed a difficult boss battle the night before and because it’s Tuesday. And that means a visit from Sho.
Sure enough, at about 8am, a familiar face appears. Sho opens the front door, the bell above ringing bright as he pokes his neatly combed head through the door.
“Excuse me for intruding,” he says cheerfully, edging himself carefully around a tall glass vase of lisanthus perched on a low shelf. Nino ducks his head to hide a smile. At every visit, Sho took great pains to avoid even brushing against the flowers in case he knocked something over again.
“Hi Sakurai-san,” Nino says, his stomach swooping as Sho gives him a warm smile, his eyes crinkling. This guy is too damn cute.
“I brought tea, and milk buns,” says Sho, placing a paper bag on the sales counter. Nino moves the mess -- a dog-eared copy of an old issue of Famitsu, yesterday’s invoices that he hasn’t reconciled yet, crumpled cellophane, a coupon for a nearby family restaurant’s hamburg set, a scribbled sketch of a planned arrangement -- and his fingers bump Sho’s hand as they both reach for the bag at the same time.
Nino pulls his hand back as if he’d been burned, and he cringes as the blood rushes to his cheeks. Sho blinks, his hand still hovering over the bag.
“Sorry, sorry -- I uh, I just really like milk buns,” Nino says quickly, to cover the silence, then mentally kicks himself. Smooth, Ninomiya.
But Sho just smiles, apparently blissfully unaware of Nino’s face slowly transforming into an embarrassed tomato with hair. He reaches into the bag to pull out a still-warm bun and holds it out to Nino. “Good thing I bought extras, then,” he says.
Nino accepts the bun and grins back. “I’m glad I can count on you to feed your starving florist,” says Nino, taking a large bite. “This is delicious!”
Sho smiles with delight, his eyes lighting up. “I’m so glad you like them! When you mentioned that milk buns were your favourite, I knew the perfect place to go, they’ve been profiled recently by a gourmet blogger, and I’ve been dying for a reason to queue up…” Sho suddenly trails off, his face falling. “I’m sorry, I must seem so boring to you,” he mutters, looking at his hands.
Swallowing his mouthful of bun hurriedly, Nino nearly chokes as he rushes to reassure Sho.
“Not at all! I love that you’re passionate about good food, it’s not boring at all,” Nino insists. He briefly considers mentioning that his quiet life could be considered boring, but actually Nino doesn’t mind a bit that he’s a homebody.
“Really?” asks Sho. “I just… most of my colleagues and friends, they aren’t really interested in foodie stuff.”
Nino shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers and purses his lips. “Well, I’m not a foodie, and I’m not super interested in foodie stuff, but I’m definitely interested in people who are passionate about things.”
Sho throws back his head and laughs. “Your honesty is refreshing, Ninomiya-san. I like that.”
I like you too, Nino nearly replies, but he catches himself.
“You’d call me Nino,” Nino says. “Only my accountant calls me Ninomiya-san.”
“Nino,” says Sho, testing it out, and Nino feels warmed to the tips of his toes, hearing Sho’s light, friendly voice saying his name.
“Then you’ll call me Sho,” Sho continues with a smile and Nino’s heart melts.
“Sho it is,” Nino agrees.
---
Nino’s realised that Sho's regular visits are fast becoming the highlight of his days. He finds himself letting Sho know that his assistant, Yasu, works the shop on Wednesdays and Thursdays, just in case Sho stops by and wonders why he's not there.
Early one Tuesday morning, Sho brings him a fluffy pastry filled with sweet red bean paste. He sits on one of the stools for customers comfortably, like he belongs there among the flowers. Nino's got used to him being there regularly, chatting comfortably -- Sho in his navy suit and neat hair, Nino in his green apron with a dishevelled fringe and dirt under his fingernails. He can't quite remember what it was like before Sho fell into his life.
"I didn’t queue for this one. My next-door neighbour Jun is a pastry chef, and he sometimes brings his leftovers over to me," explains Sho between mouthfuls of pastry.
"Delicious," agrees Nino, brushing flakes of pastry off his apron. "Thank you for thinking of me this morning, Sho." The use of Sho's first name feels strange on his tongue. It still thrills Nino to hear Sho call him just 'Nino'.
"Don't mention it," says Sho with a smile. "I'd better get to work, I suppose," he continues, picking up his briefcase, but he lingers for a few moments, fingers drumming on the counter.
"Uh, Nino, I was wondering..." Sho says, his voice nervous.
A little tingle of excitement runs up Nino's spine. "Yes, Sho?" he says, catching Sho's eyes with his own. Sho blushes, and the air in the shop seems warmer.
"Um, I was wondering, would you like -- " but he's cut off by the front door bell ringing and a boisterously loud "Good morning, Nino!"
Nino looks up to see Aiba's hand raised in greeting. "Oh, uh, morning Aiba," Nino says, mentally cursing his friend for his comically bad timing.
Sho slides off the stool and picks up his briefcase. "Excuse me for intruding," he says formally, nodding at Aiba. He glances at Nino quickly, furtively, then seems to think better of it and turns to leave.
"Oh, Sho -- " begins Nino, but he's already gone.
"Did I interrupt something?" Aiba asks, confused. Nino just sighs, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
"I don't know, Aiba. He's a random who breezed in here a couple of months ago, desperate for a bouquet before I opened the shop, then later to buy some flowers for his mother, and now he seems to be here nearly every week," Nino says glumly. He follows Aiba out to the truck.
"Well, you could always tell him to go away if you don't want him around," says Aiba.
"No," Nino shoots back instantly, then falls silent.
Aiba turns, looking at Nino curiously. "Oooooh Nino, you like this guy!" Aiba says with surprise.
Nino feels the hot prickle of a blush on his cheeks and turns his face away from Aiba's questioning gaze. He hates how Aiba can get under his guard like that.
"You're not denying it," Aiba needles, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "You do like him! Nino the ice prince, you like someone, unbelievable."
"Shut it," Nino says, flapping his hand in a ‘whatever’ gesture. "And so what if I do, he's some fancy economist or something, I'm just a florist, and he's probably straight anyway, so it's nothing, just -- oh, for god's sake Aiba," Nino finishes with an eyeroll as Aiba hands him a bucket of red roses and makes a heinous kissy face.
"You should definitely ask him out," says Aiba, voice filled with glee. "Next time he's here."
"I will do nothing of the sort," replies Nino stiffly. Aiba shrugs, still grinning.
"Ask who out?" says a sleepy voice, and Nino groans. Ohno's arrived, and he looks extremely confused.
"No one! No one, okay?" he snaps.
"Nino likes someone, his name is Sakurai-san!"Aiba say excitedly to Ohno as Nino hoists two buckets of flowers and stomps back into the shop. Ohno follows, wisely not saying anything as Nino drops the two buckets on the floor with a crash.
"I'll just get the chalk, shall I?" says Ohno, entirely unruffled.
Shit, get a grip, Nino, he chides himself. He hadn't realised just how much he liked Sho. Shaking his head, Nino goes out to the little backyard to retrieve a watering can. He breaks off a sprig of lavender from the little terracotta pot and crushes it between his fingers, breathing in the soft scent. It's calming, and Nino smiles. A crush is just a crush, after all.
Nino walks back inside the shop, stretching his arms out behind him and rolling his neck. Everything will be fine -- Sho will be back next Tuesday, and he'll find out then what exactly Sho was about to ask him.
"All finished, Nino," says Ohno as he comes back inside and deposits the chalk on the counter, brushing chalk dust from his fingers. "I think you'll like today's picture." Raising an eyebrow, Nino follows Ohno out to the footpath, spotting Aiba crouched in front of the sandwich board and laughing fit to burst.
"What the -- Ohno, you little shit," growls Nino as he pushes Aiba aside, who falls on his butt, still laughing.
The sandwich board is decorated in pink and red hearts, with 'Fleur de Tokyo' in flowing script across the top, and an uncannily accurate sketch of Nino holding a giant bunch of red roses. And to add insult to injury, Ohno's drawn two bright pink hearts in place of Nino's eyes.
"You're both jerks, I can't believe I'm friends with either of you," says Nino, crossing his arms. But a little smile is tugging at the corner of his mouth. In spite of himself, Nino starts to laugh as well. He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo; the sketch is pretty good, after all. Maybe he'll show it to Sho next time he comes to the store.
---
But Sho doesn't come back the following Tuesday. Or the Tuesday after that. And as the days slip by, Nino starts to feel more and more ridiculous for wondering where Sho is, feeling bereft without his visits.
Aiba notices immediately. Nino is morosely sweeping the store early in the morning, and it's been over a month since Sho last came by. He fiddles with Sho's business card, which he keeps in the pocket of his apron, trying to work up the nerve to call Sho, find out if something's happened -- if he's hurt, or ill, or if he just decided that Nino was too boring to hang out with anymore.
"Nino, delivery!" calls Aiba, waving as he climbs out of the van. With a little sigh, Nino leans the broom against the wall and trudges out the street.
"Morning Aiba," he says, taking the first buckets of flowers.
"Nino, what's wrong?" asks Aiba, following with two buckets looped easily over each arm. "You've been moping for weeks, Ohno and I have both noticed, what's going on?"
"Nothing," says Nino immediately. "I'm fine."
"You are not," says Aiba, crossing his arms and blocking Nino's exit back out the front door to van. "Something's bothering you. Is it that Sakurai Sho guy? Did he dump you? Do I need go beat him up?" pesters Aiba. Nino lets out a snort of laughter, imagining Aiba in his delivery uniform taking a wild swing at a be-suited Sho.
"Yes, no, and no, in that order," says Nino. "But I'm fine, Aiba-shi. No problems. In fact, let's go out tonight after work -- you've been hassling me to take a break for months," he continues, seeing a quick way to both get Aiba off the subject and an opportunity to get himself drunk enough to be able to forget about Sho for an evening.
Aiba grins. "I'll take your mind off things, don't you worry!" he says, giving Nino a thumbs-up.
Later that evening, after the sun has set and Nino's wheeled in all the flowers and shelves and pulled down the roller shutter, Aiba meets Nino in front of the store. The air has a distinct chill, and Nino shivers, pulling his scarf more tightly around his neck. Following Aiba down a small laneway and into a cosy, smoky bar, he wonders what Sho's doing -- if he's still at the office, tapping away on his computer, or maybe finished and having a relaxing drink with some co-workers.
Or maybe like Nino, he goes home most evenings, wondering what he's doing with his life.
"Nino! No thinking, just drinking!" says Aiba with mock-finger shake. He pushes a large glass of beer across the table and lifts his own glass. "Cheers." Nino clinks his glass with Aiba's and takes a long gulp.
Several glasses of beer and plates of yakitori later, Nino's feeling pleasantly buzzed. He normally doesn't like to go out much -- too noisy, too many people, too expensive -- but he's having a good time, surprisingly. There's just enough people talking and eating for the bar to feel comforting and anonymous, rather than overwhelming; the clinking of glassware, the pungent smell of frying chicken and a thin, lingering haze of cigarette smoke feels worlds away from the quiet serenity of Fleur de Tokyo, and strangely, it's just what Nino needs.
Aiba calls for another round of beers, then leans forward, resting his chin on one hand and looking pensively at Nino.
"What?" asks Nino. "Stop looking at me like that, Aiba, you're freaking me out."
"You've got Sho's number right?" Aiba asks suddenly.
Nino feels himself flush at the mention of Sho's name, a fizzy feeling running down his spine. He'd managed to forget about Sho until now, enjoying drinking and talking with Aiba about games and pets and the odd people Aiba meets on his deliveries.
"No, what, no -- I just have his card, it's only his work number," Nino protests. "Look, see?" He pulls the card from his wallet, blushing harder as he realises how creased it is from constantly fiddling with it.
Taking the card from Nino's outstretched fingers, Aiba examines it closely. "Aha!" he says triumphantly. "Look, it has his email address on it! You should message him now, ask him to come out."
"What? No fucking way Aiba, no way. I haven't seen him in weeks, it would be weird." Nino rubs his forehead, and takes another long swig of beer. "And anyway, that's his work email and it's nearly midnight, I doubt even he'd be at work still."
"Yeah, but you've said he's a real workaholic, I bet he has his work email linked to his phone. Do it do it do it," says Aiba, smacking his fist on the table. "C'mon Nino, don't you at least want to know why he hasn't been around?"
Nino grimaces because dammit, Aiba's right. He does want to know why the hell Sho stopped visiting. The last three or four times he came by the shop he didn't even pretend to be buying flowers, just waltzed in with a tea for Nino and a coffee for himself, and sat at the counter like he belonged there. Like he was part of Nino's life, the same as Aiba's cheery wave with every delivery, the same as Ohno's absent-minded smile and beautiful chalk illustrations on Fleur de Tokyo's sandwich board.
Sho just seemed to fit in neatly, like he'd always been there. And Nino misses him.
"Yeah... yeah, I do want to know," says Nino slowly, unwillingly. "But this is a stupid idea. I'm tipsy, you're drunk -- " Aiba begins to protest loudly that he is not drunk, and Nino smiles in spite of himself. "Aiba-shi, you are drunk and don't pretend otherwise. I at least have my wits about me enough to know that drunk emailing Sho is bad idea." Nino kind of wishes he were spontaneous and silly enough to drunk-email Sho, but his brain is two steps ahead of his heart.
"Well, what're you gonna do then?" asks Aiba, slurring slightly as he flops against the wall of the booth and chugs down the last quarter of his beer.
"I'm going to do what any other lovestruck fool would do," says Nino. He drums his fingers on the table, looking up at the ceiling then back at Aiba.
"I'm going to send him flowers."
---
Of course, now that Nino's made up his mind to do send Sho flowers, he's at a loss as to what kind of bouquet to send. For the next week, Aiba sends him a daily text message, asking if Nino's sent Sho the flowers yet, until Nino finally texts back that Aiba's not allowed to hassle him on pain of Nino switching delivery companies.
As the weather starts to warm, the scent of spring in the air, Nino's schedule heats up. It's wedding season, and the orders for boutonnieres and bouquets, garlands and centrepieces, all start adding up. Yasu comes on extra days to help out with some of the bigger wedding orders, and what with juggling those, supervising Yasu, and keeping up with the rest of the shop's upkeep, Nino can't seem to find the time to pick out the perfect arrangement.
He thinks about it constantly though. Sitting on the train, practicing guitar at home, playing video games -- in the back of his mind, he's wondering what flowers will send the right message.
One bright sunny morning in September, Nino finally feels like he has a chance to breathe. Yasu's gone with Aiba to deliver a truckload of flowers to a massive wedding on the outskirts of Tokyo, and the shop is blessedly quiet.
"Right, flowers, flowers for Sho," Nino mutters to himself. He's determined to convey the perfect message -- and as a florist, if he can't pick out the right gift for someone he has a crush on, he probably should get into another line of work.
Sunlight streams in through the open front doors as Nino wanders slowly through his store. He looks at the bunches of velvety-petalled roses, and immediately dismisses them -- too romantic, a little too cliche for his tastes, and probably for Sho's as well. Orchids are lovely, and Nino contemplates sending Sho a potted blue and purple specimen that's gorgeous, but it feels a little impersonal. Nino often gets a sense of personality from his flowers, and orchids can be snobbish and standoffish to him.
"Gerberas?" he wonders aloud, crouch down to consider of the brightly coloured daisies. He decides against them, they're a little too cheerful, given he's not seen Sho for weeks and weeks. Lilies remind him too much of Sho's mother, given the bouquet he made for her birthday, and tulips make him think of dining room centrepieces.
He pauses in front of the small display of bonsai, considering. Sho seems like the type who would appreciate a bonsai, but Nino doesn't do much of the work himself -- his father is skilled at growing and training bonsai, so all Nino does is care for them once they're in the store for sale, and they tend to sell quickly. And Nino feels almost like it would be cheating to give Sho something he hasn't put together himself.
Then his eyes fall on the stand of peonies -- the bright blossoms that Sho had chosen the first time he came barrelling into the shop, knocking everything over and panicking. Nino smiles, brushing his fingertips along the petal of one deep magenta bloom. Peonies will be perfect. And maybe with with a few blooms of white jasmine among them.
Nino dithers over choosing the most perfectly shaped blooms, making sure there are no wilted petals or dark spots on the leaves, and carefully carries his chosen flowers over to the workbench. Years of experience working with flowers means that Nino works basically on autopilot, his mind drifting, wondering what has happened to Sho, if this is the stupidest idea he's ever had, if he should just turf the damn flowers and forget about Sho completely. With a sigh, Nino slumps over his workbench, resting his head on his hands.
The shop bell tinkles, and Nino starts upright, pasting a welcoming smile on his face.
"Good morning, welcome to Fleur de Tokyo, can I help you?" asks Nino.
The customer -- a tallish, lean man in his early thirties, Nino guesses -- pulls off his sunglasses and looks around, then his focus narrows in on Nino.
"Are you Ninomiya-san? The florist?" he asks.
Nino raises an eyebrow. "I'm Ninomiya, a florist. Who's asking?"
The customer crosses the floor in quick strides and looms over the counter at Nino. He's dressed in artfully ripped jeans and a casual button down shirt, but also has what looks like a white chef's jacket looped over one arm.
"I'm Matsumoto Jun." He give Nino a withering look, and Nino responds with a blank stare. "Sakurai Sho's next-door neighbour," he clarifies.
"Sho's neighbour?" Nino repeats. His heart thumps in his chest.
Jun grins, showing a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "Yes, his neighbour. So you're the famous Nino, huh?" he says.
Nino shrugs. "I don't know about that. I haven't seen him in weeks," he says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Jun blinks. "What? I know he's been busy travelling for work but... he hasn't contacted you at all?" he asks, clearly surprised.
"Nope. Guess I can't have been that famous after all," Nino replies, turning back to his workbench and resisting the urge to sweep the peonies to the floor. Travelling for work? Sho had his business card, would it have killed him to call?
"He's shy, you know," Jun comments, hooking a stool with his foot and sitting down at the counter. "And he wasn't sure if you were even interested in him, or just being polite."
"Just being polite, what the -- I'm not even that polite to my actual customers!" Jun lets out a snort as Nino continues. "Let alone dudes who come to the shop every week without buying anything and talking to me. Of course I like him!" Nino sputters.
Jun smirks. "Yeah, no kidding. Well, he's worked himself into a bit of lather over it all -- I don't want him to get that drunk in my apartment ever again, so please put him out of his misery?"
Nino's mind has come careening to a halt -- Sho likes him. He's got third-party confirmation.
Suddenly the flowers don't seem like such a foolish idea after all.
"Ninomiya?" Jun flaps a hand in front of Nino's face.
"Oh right, sure, yeah. Of course. I'll contact him," Nino says. "Thanks for stopping by."
"No problem," replies Jun, sliding off the stool and straightening in one graceful movement. "Please look out for Sho -- he really is a good guy, if a bit of a dolt."
Nino bows in response as Jun strides out the front door (without knocking over a single thing, Nino notes, amused). Then he turns back to his workbench, staring down at the bundle of peonies.
After a moment, Nino squares his shoulders and pulls out his secateurs. Quickly and neatly, he prepares the stems, then pulls out a beautifully embossed green box and wraps gold and crimson ribbons around it. Nino ponders whether to add another type of flower, or style them more artistically, but his instincts tell him to keep it simple, arranging the peonies in a simple burst of colour against the green, dotted with a few white jasmine flowers.
Nino flicks through his notecards, trying to find something to match. He chooses a plain gold one, and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Then Nino pauses, pen hovering above the card. What should he say? Nino chews his bottom lip, twirling the pen between his fingers.
Finally, he scribbles: Sho, I bought you a coffee last time you visited so you owe me Y400. Regards, Nino.
Nino smirks to himself. But as much as he likes to be prickly and acerbic, he can't quite bring himself to leave the note at that, and finds himself adding a little postscript.
P.S. I miss your visits.
Then, before he can lose his nerve, Nino sends Aiba a text: Hey Aiba, can you make a special delivery for me?
---
The air is heavy and still, dark grey storm clouds scudding across the Tokyo skyline. A roll of thunder echoes overhead.
Nino looks at the little clock perched next to the cash register. Time to close up, especially with the storm coming on. He goes out to the backyard, securing a couple of pots on wheels and putting away loose bits and pieces of rubbish as the wind starts to gust. Snapping off a sprig of lavender, Nino sniffs it with a smile. He still hasn't heard anything from Sho, now more than a week after Aiba made his delivery, but at least there's still things like lavender in the world.
The thunder rolls again as Nino walks back into the shop, straightening the orchids, picking up any fallen foliage, neatening the bonsai. He heads out the front to start bringing the wheeled shelves of flowers in, and large drops of rain to start to fall.
"Dammit," mutters Nino. And as he pushes the first shelf inside, it's like the heavens open, and rain pours from the sky, sudden and drenching.
"God fucking dammit," curses Nino. He resigns himself to getting soaked, untying his apron and draping it over a stool, then stepping back out into the rain. Rivulets of water run down the back of his neck, and as irritated as he is with getting wet, Nino can't help but enjoy the plinking of raindrops on the wooden roof of the Fleur de Tokyo. Quiet stillness reigns as only a few brave souls venture out into the sudden downpour.
Nino's fringe is plastered to his forehead, and he pushes it back out of his eyes as he turns to grab two large buckets filled with wet chrysanthemums. But he nearly drops them as he hears a voice call through the rain.
"Nino!"
From a distance, Sakurai Sho cuts a sadly bedraggled figure, hair dripping, blue suit waterlogged, and his leather shoes probably ruined. He races up the street towards Fleur de Tokyo, splashing wildly through puddles, and stopping short right in front of Nino, gasping slightly for breath. Nino clutches the buckets of chrysanthemums, his heart leaping in his chest as Sho shucks off his sodden jacket, leaving his shirt plastered to his skin.
"He-hello," Nino replies, tongue-tied. The rain eases, still steady, but not as heavy as the earlier downpour.
"I'm sorry, Nino," Sho says, stepping closer, and Nino almost forgets to breathe. How was it possible for Sho to still be this attractive, his hair damply falling his eyes.
"Sorry?" Nino asks.
"I'll explain properly later, but I was called away on an emergency business trip, and I was too embarrassed to call. I only got your flowers this morning, I came straight here," Sho says, words tumbling out in a rush. He clenches and unclenches his fingers, then reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "Ninomiya-san -- Nino, I, I..." he trails off.
And Nino smiles, because this the Sho he knows, the Sho, that, if he's honest with himself, he fell in love with as soon he walked through Nino's front door and knocked over a vase of roses. Sho, awkward, nervous, and gorgeous as hell.
"Sho, you just got back from a business trip and came here directly, even though it's pouring with rain and the middle of your work day," Nino says, one corner of his mouth hooking up in a little smirk. "You could have called, you know. Or texted. Sent a carrier pigeon, even." The rain is still falling, but Nino doesn't even notice how wet he is, only looking at the little droplets of water clinging to Sho's eyelashes.
Sho stares at him blankly for moment, and then he smiles too, his eyes crinkling, and takes another step, so close that Nino can feel the flutter of Sho's breath on his cheek.
"Yeah, but then I couldn't do this," Sho murmurs, and wrapping his hands around Nino's upper arms, leans down and kisses him.
Holy shit. Nino's mind seems to short-circuit. There's only the feeling of Sho's mouth on his, the warmth of Sho's hands on his arms, pulling him close, and Nino drops the buckets of chrysanthemums with a crash.
Sho jumps back with a start as the flowers end up strewn around his feet, petals and leaves all over the ground.
"Shit, shit, fuck, shit," Nino swears, blushing furiously. He bends down to pick up the buckets and dump the handfuls of flowers back in.
"Now who's the clumsy one," says Sho smugly, squatting to help.
"This is your fault," Nino shoots back. "You took me by surprise!"
Sho's face falls. "I didn't mean to -- your note, I thought you were -- oh shitting hell," Sho says, looking as white as a sheet. "I'm sorry."
Nino pushes his hair back from his forehead, and grabs Sho's hand. "Don't apologise," he says. Pulling himself and Sho upright, Nino holds the bucket of ruined flowers and walks inside, towing Sho behind him.
"Don't ever apologise for this, Sakurai Sho," Nino says once they're both safely inside. The rain continues to fall. He puts the bucket down, and pulls Sho close, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Sho's damp hair and kissing him. And it's perfect, the smell of ozone and dirt and the intangible scent that's Sho himself, the sound of water hitting the pavement and Sho's mouth soft and warm on Nino's.
They break apart with a gasp.
"Nino," says Sho, and Nino shivers at how Sho says his name, like it's something soft and delicate. "Nino, I..."
"I'm so glad you came back," says Nino. "I -- I missed you. Your visits were the highlight of my week."
Sho grins. "Mine too. I'm sorry, I just... didn't know what to do, and my work was ramping up, then there was the business trip..."
"Guess it's a good thing I sent you those damn peonies then," says Nino. "And that your neighbour stopped by to tell me that you were hopelessly in love with me."
Sho rolls his eyes. "That Matsumoto Jun cannot be trusted with a secret," he grumbles. He pauses, and flushes. "I don't know what he said to you, but I was drunk at the time."
With a laugh, Nino tugs Sho close again. "Sure sure, I've got your number, Sakurai Sho."
"Yeah well, see if I ever give you your coffee money back," Sho says.
Nino twines his fingers in Sho's, and smiles.
"You can keep it."
~fin~