La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel
❇ Title: La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel for haopppyvirus
❇ Pairing: Kris/Tao
❇ Rating: PG-13
❇ Length: 2628
❇ Warnings: minor swearing, cat-got-my-tongue!kris
❇ Author's Note: thank you for the lovely prompts, haopppyvirus! i modeled the bouquet after an actual image but... *glares reproachfully at phone* i lost the link. hopefully pretty words will do just fine instead. o3o
❇ Summary: In which Kris has a green thumb and Zitao is the clumsy intern breaking vases. (Ten years of wushu my patootie.)
Kris was in the second story of his quaint flower shop when he heard the clutter from downstairs, a heavy breath escaping him. A few weeks ago that would have meant he was irritated and was holding his temper in check with every bit of himself, but now it meant something different.
Resignation.
He had accepted that there was nothing he could do about the bumbling klutz downstairs, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. So, Kris would sigh, as he had come to realize it couldn't be helped. All he could do was hope nothing was broken and that, if something was broken, it would be marked down properly as a loss for the shop.
The sheepishly smiling face of Huang Zitao appeared at the foot of the grey-carpeted stairs. “It's fine, nothing's broken!” he called up with an uneasy chuckle.
Kris closed his eyes and counted to three. If he waited long enough...
Sure enough, Wang Feifei stood next to Zitao with her arm over the banister. “Nothing's broken, dented, chipped, or cracked, I promise. The clay pot will be fine.”
“Thank you, Fei,” Kris called down to them, releasing his held breath. He marked something down on the inventory count sheet in his hands as he finished up the second floor storage, closed the binder, and meandered down the stairs. He trusted Fei implicitly, but the flower shop was his pride and joy-and Zitao was a menace with two left feet and no sense of self, 10 years of Wushu aside.
Zitao's lips pursed into a petulant pout, making sure both Fei and Kris both got a full look at him, and then sauntered off. Apparently, back in Qingdao, China, that pout had worked for Zitao's parents and they ate from the palms of his-dirty, soil-caked-hands, but Kris and Fei weren't Zitao's parents and this was Vancouver, not Qingdao.
Or, at least, that's what Kris told himself from giving Zitao the only thing he ever wanted: attention. Zitao was young and had a heart of gold, but he soaked up attention from others like a plant soaked up sunlight. Or, maybe Zitao was the sun and Kris was the plant, and whenever Kris spared him even a second of attention, he would light up and Kris would, strangely, would preen with pride. Zitao was quite a lovely thing whenever he glowed.
This is a professional environment, Kris reminded himself. I am the employer and the mentor, Zitao is just a part-time intern.
Zitao, despite all of his faults and all of the losses he'd caused Kris' shop, was an astute mind that Kris didn't mind having around, provided that he wasn't bumping into things and watching them shatter on the floor. He'd been in Canada for two years now, studying for a degree in business management and thanks to Fei, ended up there under Kris' tutelage. Kris, too, had a degree in business management, and another in linguistics because, well, he did speak four languages.
“So, um-“ Kris turned to look at Zitao and stopped short, breath catching in his throat because an ass like that should be illegal. It was not fair how the curve of Zitao's ass was firm and tight, and that he always wore too tight clothes that clung to his skin.
Fei gave him a look and a not unfriendly slap on the arm. Kris cleared his throat.
“How's the in-store count coming along?” Kris asked, clearing his throat again and, out of nervous habit, rubbed at the delicate skin behind his ear.
Zitao hummed, swinging his hips as he scrawled something quickly down on the paper before him. Kris choked and turned away, unable to stand the sight anymore.
The Lord is testing me.
“All done!” Zitao chirped. Kris accepted the papers from him with a brief lookover, and then placed them in the binder with the rest of the inventory paperwork.
The clock posted behind the counter said five minutes of 6pm, and so Kris turned to Zitao with a smile that was just as despaired as it was relieved. “You can go ahead and head out now, I'll see you tomorrow.” Kris offered him a purely professional smile and a wave as Zitao gathered his things and left.
Damn if the fading afternoon light didn't halo Zitao in gold.
“You have it so bad it hurts to watch,” Fei said, rolling her eyes skyward. “I'm surprised the poor thing hasn't picked up on it himself. It must take a special kind of oblivious to ignore the weight of your bedroom eyes.”
Kris snorted indignantly. “I am not giving him bedroom eyes,” he denied.
Yeah, if the look on Fei's face was anything to go by, she didn't look very convinced either.
“You should talk to him.”
“I talk to him when he's in here every day for work,” Kris retorts waspishly.
Fei was not impressed. “I've known him since he was in diapers, and with the knowledge I have amassed over the years, I am strongly advising that you talk to him about your little...crush.”
“I do not have a crush!” Kris denied vehemently, and then when the rest of Fei's words finally processed, he gave her an arch look. “Wait. Wait. Are you trying to suggest that Zitao's gay?”
“I'm not suggesting anything, Mr. Wu Yifan.” Uh-oh, Fei dropped his real name. He was in trouble. “It is simply you that is inferring things.”
If Kris could take a moment to be honest with himself, he'd admit that maybe, just maybe, he might have had some...less than professional, a little bit more personal interest in Zitao. He might also admit that Fei's words brought forth a wellspring of hope, but as a customer meandered into the shop, he found himself stuffing a plug in it.
Kris was Zitao's boss. It was unfair of him to use that position to his advantage, to approach Zitao and make him return the advances out of some sense of misguided obligation. Kris was an honest man, just like his Mama raised him to be.
Zitao's internship would only last three more weeks anyway. If Kris had held out for as long as he had so far, he could last three more weeks and then wash these strange emotions from his hands.
-
This time, Kris didn't even so much as twitch when Zitao's hip bumped into the small shelf and knocked over one of the glass vases. He did, however, turn around to see why he hadn't heard it shatter all over the floor to see Zitao had caught it and replaced it with one of his signature sheepish grins.
Well. If Kris had any doubts about those ten years Zitao had taken of Wushu, they were gone now.
(He totally wasn't impressed. Nope. Not at all. Deny deny deny.)
“We may just be able to make a man of you yet,” Kris commented offhandedly.
Zitao glowed, and goddamn it that is so not fair. Not fair at all.
Kris brushed off his strange thoughts with a frown. “Get back to work, Silly Sally.”
He wasn't sure if the image of Zitao as a bird with rumpled feathers is much better than the one of him glowing. (Because Zitao would be a majestic bird with exotic colors and something worth being treasured.)
Damn it.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...
-
Kris was in the back of the shop doing order forms when the knock came, and he knew without thinking about it that it was Fei. She must have left Zitao to man the floor and watch the register.
“I have an idea,” Fei said. She closed the door behind her, throwing chocolate curls over her shoulder. The grin on her face was a mix between something proud and something wicked, and Kris was not certain how he should interpret it.
Warily, he said, “Okay. I'm listening.”
“So,” she started, “managing a business is more than just paper work. You have to know the job, too, just as well as any other employee. Zitao doesn't have much time left, so why don't we put together a bouquet and see how much homework he's done since he started?”
Kris ran his fingers through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Okay,” he said after a long moment of contemplation. “I like your idea. We'll do it together.”
“Deal.” Fei grinned.
They shook hands on it.
-
Okay, so it was totally the silliest thing ever, but Kris couldn't help himself. He'd had a green thumb since he was young, and a series of unfortunate events eventually lead him to taking over the flowershop from the elderly Tremblay couple up the street from his childhood home. While he hadn't exactly imagined himself ever being the owner of a flower shop, somehow it suited him. Kris was proud of what he'd been able to do. And then, because of those silly little romantic whims that hung around far too much for his liking, Kris was okay with sharing this bit of himself with Zitao.
Of course, the only reason he could convince himself that this was okay was to believe that Zitao wouldn't understand the way Kris meticulously arranged the bouquet with his own hands. Zitao wouldn't understand the way he'd arranged them to the melody resting in his bosom that played whenever he so much as thought of clumsy intern.
Fei said nothing as she stepped back and let Kris arrange the flowers himself, though the look on her face was telling enough. She was impressed, maybe a little bit proud, and several parts amused. Kris ignored that for the most part, choosing only to expect Zitao to know the flowers and their names, not the messages hidden in between silken petals.
Kris expected Zitao to look over them, to name them, and after two more weeks, he'd be on to bigger and better things in life.
“Pretty,” Fei complimented as she watched Kris. He'd chosen a shallow but wide clear glass vase and held the flowers in place with sleek, earth-toned rocks. It was a different kind of bouquet, but no less his signature style: simple, elegant, and said so much with only so little to see.
Kris took a step back to view the finished project, and his heart sank into his stomach when he realized what he was actually doing. “Ugh, no wait-“ He made a sound and made to go downstairs, but Fei stopped him.
“What are you doing? It's fine. Perfect.”
Kris made a face. “I can't just-“ An incoherent noise followed.
Fei understood what he was trying to say. “Get over yourself,” she said, slapping him on the back. Kris jerked forward from the force and frowned at her. “What's done is done. Now go serve your heart to Huang Zitao on a silver platter and watch him eat it up.”
“That's so reassuring.” Would it be worth summoning a bit of Zitao's clumsy antics from downstairs so he could drop it-oops, silly me!-and just forget about this mess?
Kris carried the bouquet downstairs anyway, setting it on the counter beside the till. Emotion swelled in his throat and made it hard to swallow, but he forced it down and tried to summon a facade of calm.
“Wow.” Zitao blinked. “That's a really simple design, and somehow that makes it more beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Kris cleared his throat. “So go ahead and tell me what you see.”
It took only a few moments as Zitao observed, leaning in to smell the sweet fragrance. “Gillyflower,” he began. “Sweet, fragrant flowers that symbolize a happy live and content existence.”
Oh no...
Zitao's fingers touched the soft blooms with a surprising tenderness that made warmth settle in Kris' chest. “Two white chrysanthemums,” he hummed. “Truth and a loyal love, maybe one for each?”
The smile twisting at Zitao's mouth should not have been something a person as attractive and intelligent as he could have. That was not fair. Everything about him was unfair.
“One white daisy: loyal love, purity, beauty, innocence, patience, and simplicity. Fitting. I'm staring to notice a theme, Mr. Wu.”
Kris was not blushing, no. The sun was just burning his face.
Yeah.
Totally.
“Just-what else?”
“A red tulip, representing a perfect love. I read somewhere that the dark center of the flower is supposed to reflected a lover's heart darkened by the heat of passion. Then, finally, you have three purple roses for enchantment-and combined with the white lilac, it suggests love at first sight.
“How did I do?”
He ate your heart out, Wu Yifan. You served it to him on a gold platter and he swallowed it whole.
Kris swallowed as the emotions built up in his throat. “Good,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “You did good. I'm proud.” This time he was certain the sun wasn't burning his face anymore, but rather the flush of his own humiliation a reminder. Oh, how he regretted listening to Fei-regretted letting himself decide that something with meaning was a good idea.
They stood there awkwardly for a few moments until Kris heard Fei's boots shuffle on the floor, and he jerked to attention. “I'll-I'll just. I'm gonna price this and put it on the shelf.”
Special of the day: Wu Yifan's bleeding heart. On sale! Get it now for this cheap price of-
“Wait, that's it?” Zitao's petulant voice interrupted Kris' self-deprecating tirade.
“Yeah.” Kris tried not to sound like the bitter old scorned man that he felt (and somewhere he heard Fei nagging at him, “Twenty-five is not old!”). “Did you expect something else?”
Maybe he shouldn't have said that last part.
Zitao snorts, rolling his eyes. “Uh, after a bouquet like that I was kind of expecting to be asked on a date.”
Kris does a pretty good job at covering up his stumble, hands tightening on the glass vase that houses his flower-shaped heart. Wow, the sun was a vicious little thing today, wasn't it? “Uh-“
“Friday at 7pm? Sounds great, I'll see you then.”
Kris spluttered, mouth agape. “B-but, the shop-“
“I've got your back,” Fei chimed, an eager smile on her face and a hand raised in the air.
Zitao clears his throat, successfully regaining Kris' attention back on him. “So, uh, I'd like that bouquet to not go on the shelves. It should be in my apartment, don't you think?”
Um.
“I have just the spot for it too!” Zitao beamed and snatched the vase from Kris' hands.
What.
“You-“ Kris gurgled helplessly at the breath-taking, sinful smile that twisted at Zitao's Cupid's bow mouth.
“See you Friday!”
WHAT EVEN JUST HAPPENED!?
Nevertheless, Kris couldn't help himself but to allow him to watch Zitao walk away, a skip in his step and those goddamn jeans nice and tight on his ass. With each step he took, Kris got a nice eye-full of dat ass until it disappeared in a taxi.
A hand underneath his chin pressed his mouth closed, and Kris turned to meet Fei's smug countenance. “You were too obvious and too easy, Lover Boy,” she teased. “Better wipe up that drool.”
Frowning, he wipes at the corners of his mouth. Dry. Thank goodness. He wasn't drooling like an imbecile after all. “That. Did that really just...happen?” Kris stammered.
“Yes. You have a date with Mr. Bootylicious, Huang Zitao on Friday at seven pm sharp.”
“I never said that!” he protested loudly, eyes wide as he spared Fei an incredulous glare.
“You didn't have to.” She smirked. “I told you, you were obvious.”
❇ Pairing: Kris/Tao
❇ Rating: PG-13
❇ Length: 2628
❇ Warnings: minor swearing, cat-got-my-tongue!kris
❇ Author's Note: thank you for the lovely prompts, haopppyvirus! i modeled the bouquet after an actual image but... *glares reproachfully at phone* i lost the link. hopefully pretty words will do just fine instead. o3o
❇ Summary: In which Kris has a green thumb and Zitao is the clumsy intern breaking vases. (Ten years of wushu my patootie.)
Kris was in the second story of his quaint flower shop when he heard the clutter from downstairs, a heavy breath escaping him. A few weeks ago that would have meant he was irritated and was holding his temper in check with every bit of himself, but now it meant something different.
Resignation.
He had accepted that there was nothing he could do about the bumbling klutz downstairs, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. So, Kris would sigh, as he had come to realize it couldn't be helped. All he could do was hope nothing was broken and that, if something was broken, it would be marked down properly as a loss for the shop.
The sheepishly smiling face of Huang Zitao appeared at the foot of the grey-carpeted stairs. “It's fine, nothing's broken!” he called up with an uneasy chuckle.
Kris closed his eyes and counted to three. If he waited long enough...
Sure enough, Wang Feifei stood next to Zitao with her arm over the banister. “Nothing's broken, dented, chipped, or cracked, I promise. The clay pot will be fine.”
“Thank you, Fei,” Kris called down to them, releasing his held breath. He marked something down on the inventory count sheet in his hands as he finished up the second floor storage, closed the binder, and meandered down the stairs. He trusted Fei implicitly, but the flower shop was his pride and joy-and Zitao was a menace with two left feet and no sense of self, 10 years of Wushu aside.
Zitao's lips pursed into a petulant pout, making sure both Fei and Kris both got a full look at him, and then sauntered off. Apparently, back in Qingdao, China, that pout had worked for Zitao's parents and they ate from the palms of his-dirty, soil-caked-hands, but Kris and Fei weren't Zitao's parents and this was Vancouver, not Qingdao.
Or, at least, that's what Kris told himself from giving Zitao the only thing he ever wanted: attention. Zitao was young and had a heart of gold, but he soaked up attention from others like a plant soaked up sunlight. Or, maybe Zitao was the sun and Kris was the plant, and whenever Kris spared him even a second of attention, he would light up and Kris would, strangely, would preen with pride. Zitao was quite a lovely thing whenever he glowed.
This is a professional environment, Kris reminded himself. I am the employer and the mentor, Zitao is just a part-time intern.
Zitao, despite all of his faults and all of the losses he'd caused Kris' shop, was an astute mind that Kris didn't mind having around, provided that he wasn't bumping into things and watching them shatter on the floor. He'd been in Canada for two years now, studying for a degree in business management and thanks to Fei, ended up there under Kris' tutelage. Kris, too, had a degree in business management, and another in linguistics because, well, he did speak four languages.
“So, um-“ Kris turned to look at Zitao and stopped short, breath catching in his throat because an ass like that should be illegal. It was not fair how the curve of Zitao's ass was firm and tight, and that he always wore too tight clothes that clung to his skin.
Fei gave him a look and a not unfriendly slap on the arm. Kris cleared his throat.
“How's the in-store count coming along?” Kris asked, clearing his throat again and, out of nervous habit, rubbed at the delicate skin behind his ear.
Zitao hummed, swinging his hips as he scrawled something quickly down on the paper before him. Kris choked and turned away, unable to stand the sight anymore.
The Lord is testing me.
“All done!” Zitao chirped. Kris accepted the papers from him with a brief lookover, and then placed them in the binder with the rest of the inventory paperwork.
The clock posted behind the counter said five minutes of 6pm, and so Kris turned to Zitao with a smile that was just as despaired as it was relieved. “You can go ahead and head out now, I'll see you tomorrow.” Kris offered him a purely professional smile and a wave as Zitao gathered his things and left.
Damn if the fading afternoon light didn't halo Zitao in gold.
“You have it so bad it hurts to watch,” Fei said, rolling her eyes skyward. “I'm surprised the poor thing hasn't picked up on it himself. It must take a special kind of oblivious to ignore the weight of your bedroom eyes.”
Kris snorted indignantly. “I am not giving him bedroom eyes,” he denied.
Yeah, if the look on Fei's face was anything to go by, she didn't look very convinced either.
“You should talk to him.”
“I talk to him when he's in here every day for work,” Kris retorts waspishly.
Fei was not impressed. “I've known him since he was in diapers, and with the knowledge I have amassed over the years, I am strongly advising that you talk to him about your little...crush.”
“I do not have a crush!” Kris denied vehemently, and then when the rest of Fei's words finally processed, he gave her an arch look. “Wait. Wait. Are you trying to suggest that Zitao's gay?”
“I'm not suggesting anything, Mr. Wu Yifan.” Uh-oh, Fei dropped his real name. He was in trouble. “It is simply you that is inferring things.”
If Kris could take a moment to be honest with himself, he'd admit that maybe, just maybe, he might have had some...less than professional, a little bit more personal interest in Zitao. He might also admit that Fei's words brought forth a wellspring of hope, but as a customer meandered into the shop, he found himself stuffing a plug in it.
Kris was Zitao's boss. It was unfair of him to use that position to his advantage, to approach Zitao and make him return the advances out of some sense of misguided obligation. Kris was an honest man, just like his Mama raised him to be.
Zitao's internship would only last three more weeks anyway. If Kris had held out for as long as he had so far, he could last three more weeks and then wash these strange emotions from his hands.
-
This time, Kris didn't even so much as twitch when Zitao's hip bumped into the small shelf and knocked over one of the glass vases. He did, however, turn around to see why he hadn't heard it shatter all over the floor to see Zitao had caught it and replaced it with one of his signature sheepish grins.
Well. If Kris had any doubts about those ten years Zitao had taken of Wushu, they were gone now.
(He totally wasn't impressed. Nope. Not at all. Deny deny deny.)
“We may just be able to make a man of you yet,” Kris commented offhandedly.
Zitao glowed, and goddamn it that is so not fair. Not fair at all.
Kris brushed off his strange thoughts with a frown. “Get back to work, Silly Sally.”
He wasn't sure if the image of Zitao as a bird with rumpled feathers is much better than the one of him glowing. (Because Zitao would be a majestic bird with exotic colors and something worth being treasured.)
Damn it.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...
-
Kris was in the back of the shop doing order forms when the knock came, and he knew without thinking about it that it was Fei. She must have left Zitao to man the floor and watch the register.
“I have an idea,” Fei said. She closed the door behind her, throwing chocolate curls over her shoulder. The grin on her face was a mix between something proud and something wicked, and Kris was not certain how he should interpret it.
Warily, he said, “Okay. I'm listening.”
“So,” she started, “managing a business is more than just paper work. You have to know the job, too, just as well as any other employee. Zitao doesn't have much time left, so why don't we put together a bouquet and see how much homework he's done since he started?”
Kris ran his fingers through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Okay,” he said after a long moment of contemplation. “I like your idea. We'll do it together.”
“Deal.” Fei grinned.
They shook hands on it.
-
Okay, so it was totally the silliest thing ever, but Kris couldn't help himself. He'd had a green thumb since he was young, and a series of unfortunate events eventually lead him to taking over the flowershop from the elderly Tremblay couple up the street from his childhood home. While he hadn't exactly imagined himself ever being the owner of a flower shop, somehow it suited him. Kris was proud of what he'd been able to do. And then, because of those silly little romantic whims that hung around far too much for his liking, Kris was okay with sharing this bit of himself with Zitao.
Of course, the only reason he could convince himself that this was okay was to believe that Zitao wouldn't understand the way Kris meticulously arranged the bouquet with his own hands. Zitao wouldn't understand the way he'd arranged them to the melody resting in his bosom that played whenever he so much as thought of clumsy intern.
Fei said nothing as she stepped back and let Kris arrange the flowers himself, though the look on her face was telling enough. She was impressed, maybe a little bit proud, and several parts amused. Kris ignored that for the most part, choosing only to expect Zitao to know the flowers and their names, not the messages hidden in between silken petals.
Kris expected Zitao to look over them, to name them, and after two more weeks, he'd be on to bigger and better things in life.
“Pretty,” Fei complimented as she watched Kris. He'd chosen a shallow but wide clear glass vase and held the flowers in place with sleek, earth-toned rocks. It was a different kind of bouquet, but no less his signature style: simple, elegant, and said so much with only so little to see.
Kris took a step back to view the finished project, and his heart sank into his stomach when he realized what he was actually doing. “Ugh, no wait-“ He made a sound and made to go downstairs, but Fei stopped him.
“What are you doing? It's fine. Perfect.”
Kris made a face. “I can't just-“ An incoherent noise followed.
Fei understood what he was trying to say. “Get over yourself,” she said, slapping him on the back. Kris jerked forward from the force and frowned at her. “What's done is done. Now go serve your heart to Huang Zitao on a silver platter and watch him eat it up.”
“That's so reassuring.” Would it be worth summoning a bit of Zitao's clumsy antics from downstairs so he could drop it-oops, silly me!-and just forget about this mess?
Kris carried the bouquet downstairs anyway, setting it on the counter beside the till. Emotion swelled in his throat and made it hard to swallow, but he forced it down and tried to summon a facade of calm.
“Wow.” Zitao blinked. “That's a really simple design, and somehow that makes it more beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Kris cleared his throat. “So go ahead and tell me what you see.”
It took only a few moments as Zitao observed, leaning in to smell the sweet fragrance. “Gillyflower,” he began. “Sweet, fragrant flowers that symbolize a happy live and content existence.”
Oh no...
Zitao's fingers touched the soft blooms with a surprising tenderness that made warmth settle in Kris' chest. “Two white chrysanthemums,” he hummed. “Truth and a loyal love, maybe one for each?”
The smile twisting at Zitao's mouth should not have been something a person as attractive and intelligent as he could have. That was not fair. Everything about him was unfair.
“One white daisy: loyal love, purity, beauty, innocence, patience, and simplicity. Fitting. I'm staring to notice a theme, Mr. Wu.”
Kris was not blushing, no. The sun was just burning his face.
Yeah.
Totally.
“Just-what else?”
“A red tulip, representing a perfect love. I read somewhere that the dark center of the flower is supposed to reflected a lover's heart darkened by the heat of passion. Then, finally, you have three purple roses for enchantment-and combined with the white lilac, it suggests love at first sight.
“How did I do?”
He ate your heart out, Wu Yifan. You served it to him on a gold platter and he swallowed it whole.
Kris swallowed as the emotions built up in his throat. “Good,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “You did good. I'm proud.” This time he was certain the sun wasn't burning his face anymore, but rather the flush of his own humiliation a reminder. Oh, how he regretted listening to Fei-regretted letting himself decide that something with meaning was a good idea.
They stood there awkwardly for a few moments until Kris heard Fei's boots shuffle on the floor, and he jerked to attention. “I'll-I'll just. I'm gonna price this and put it on the shelf.”
Special of the day: Wu Yifan's bleeding heart. On sale! Get it now for this cheap price of-
“Wait, that's it?” Zitao's petulant voice interrupted Kris' self-deprecating tirade.
“Yeah.” Kris tried not to sound like the bitter old scorned man that he felt (and somewhere he heard Fei nagging at him, “Twenty-five is not old!”). “Did you expect something else?”
Maybe he shouldn't have said that last part.
Zitao snorts, rolling his eyes. “Uh, after a bouquet like that I was kind of expecting to be asked on a date.”
Kris does a pretty good job at covering up his stumble, hands tightening on the glass vase that houses his flower-shaped heart. Wow, the sun was a vicious little thing today, wasn't it? “Uh-“
“Friday at 7pm? Sounds great, I'll see you then.”
Kris spluttered, mouth agape. “B-but, the shop-“
“I've got your back,” Fei chimed, an eager smile on her face and a hand raised in the air.
Zitao clears his throat, successfully regaining Kris' attention back on him. “So, uh, I'd like that bouquet to not go on the shelves. It should be in my apartment, don't you think?”
Um.
“I have just the spot for it too!” Zitao beamed and snatched the vase from Kris' hands.
What.
“You-“ Kris gurgled helplessly at the breath-taking, sinful smile that twisted at Zitao's Cupid's bow mouth.
“See you Friday!”
WHAT EVEN JUST HAPPENED!?
Nevertheless, Kris couldn't help himself but to allow him to watch Zitao walk away, a skip in his step and those goddamn jeans nice and tight on his ass. With each step he took, Kris got a nice eye-full of dat ass until it disappeared in a taxi.
A hand underneath his chin pressed his mouth closed, and Kris turned to meet Fei's smug countenance. “You were too obvious and too easy, Lover Boy,” she teased. “Better wipe up that drool.”
Frowning, he wipes at the corners of his mouth. Dry. Thank goodness. He wasn't drooling like an imbecile after all. “That. Did that really just...happen?” Kris stammered.
“Yes. You have a date with Mr. Bootylicious, Huang Zitao on Friday at seven pm sharp.”
“I never said that!” he protested loudly, eyes wide as he spared Fei an incredulous glare.
“You didn't have to.” She smirked. “I told you, you were obvious.”