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whatdyk · 4 years ago

Text

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Three.

Warnings: None that I can think of?

Word Count: 2.9k.

Chapter Three:

Deep brown eyes and a strong, rugged voice. Accent thick with a low, serious tone. Brown hair with soft curls; an almost signature frown. The images that lace through your mind keep you accompanied almost every day. Whether you're working, sleeping, or cooking, it doesn't seem to matter. They're always there, curving between your conscious and subconscious mind.

It was even becoming frustrating for you now, how your mind just couldn't seem to escape the thought of Pero. You've even caught yourself wondering whether he feels the same way about you, but you know that that could never be true. Besides, that would be weird, he doesn't even know you.

So instead, you go about your days as if nothing's bothering you. Nothing at all.

With a yawn, you eventually sit up in bed and reach for your phone. It's finally the weekend, and so you decided to indulge yourself in a rare lie-in. Though, to your dismay, your new idea of a relaxing, lazy morning, seems to be waking up at 8 am. You have a few emails and messages from work waiting for you, but thankfully you're able to push them to the back of your mind until Monday. You place your phone back down and slump into the covers, closing your eyes for just five more minutes.

Roughly one hour later, you wake again feeling refreshed and well-rested. And, as soon as you're up and about, the morning before you goes quickly. You're able to eat, shower and dress in just 90 minutes, deciding to wear one of your favorite outfits. Covering yourself in soft knits and an over-sized coat, you're ready to battle against the chill of the oncoming winter. The cuts and scrapes on your face have also fully healed now, leaving you to feel confident in your own reflection once again.

Yesterday, you'd decided that you would go to the park for a walk, ensuring that you're able to make the most of the sunshine and mild weather before the evenings start to get cold and dark. You might even treat yourself to hot drink or a new book, though you'd definitely be sure to stop by the florists. It's a strange feeling to be so excited for such a seemingly mundane day, but you can't help the smile that's beginning to spread across your face.

Grabbing your gloves and bag, you take one final look around your apartment. For the first time in a long time, you're desperate to get out and explore.

Your quick trip had been going well so far, the weather may have been chillier that you had anticipated, but the final rays of the sun shone brightly throughout the city. So far, you'd been able to stop by your local book shop and purchase a few new novels, you'd even spotted a few classics to add to your collection. Luckily, you also know the owner of the store quite well, and she was more than happy to let you peruse the items not yet for sale.

After ringing up your purchases, you only have one more task to complete for the day, flowers. You'd only just thrown out the vase from before, and your apartment was desperate for some colour. You weren't really able to customize the walls of your rented home, so you attempted to brighten up the place in any other way you could imagine.

Deciding to cut across the park, you make your way to your favourite place-

"Oof!" You gasp out as something solid hits your shoulder, knocking you slightly off-balance.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the man making his way towards you until it was too late.

"Shit," You mumble out, reaching down for the bag you'd just dropped, "I'm so sorry"

You hear a muted grumble in response, but it's not until you're stretching back up again that you realize just who you've bumped into. Your heart nearly falls through your stomach as your eyes meet, "...You" you whisper to yourself, meeting the frown that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"You should be more careful" he mutters under his breath, remembering your name and causing your pulse to sky-rocket. You can feel the heat begin to rise in your cheeks as you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. Has he always been this tall?

"I'm really sorry about that," You begin once you realise that you've been staring for way too long, "Honestly, my mind was somewhere else"

To nobodies surprise, the man just grunts in response. Yet, you're pleased to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Pero, right?" You question, not wanting to sound too eager as if his name hasn't been on the tip of your tongue since the moment he gave it to you.

"Sí" He responds, "I'm impressed that you remember."

"Of course!" You speak out a little too loud for your liking, "I still owe you for, well...everything" you mumble, moving your eyes to ground beneath you.

It's still a difficult memory for you to relive, but now, and especially in front of him, you can't help but think of when he turned down your first offer of re-paying him. You can feel the tips of your ears begin burn as you recall that moment, the look of pity in his brown eyes as he left you standing in the doorway to your apartment-

"I'm free now?" Pero's gruff voice knocks you out of your thoughts, "If you are too, that is"

Wait, what?

You must have looked up at him with a face of pure confusion as a small smile etches across his features, "If your offer still stands, I'd like to grab some lunch with you" he elaborates.

Your eyes go wide, but you can't help it as a broad smile breaks out, "Of course" you rush out, "I know the perfect place."

Unsurprisingly, the walk between you is quiet. It's not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but there's certainly an air of tension between the two of you, and you can't seem to put your finger on why. Though thankfully, the place you had in mind isn't too far away.

"It's an Italian, I hope that's alright?" You say, struggling to walk in time with his long strides. He doesn't answer you verbally, but he nods his head as he places his hands into his jacket pockets.

Eventually entering the venue, you're instantly hit with the soothing warmth of the inside. There's a burning fire in the corner that's calling your name, and thankfully, you notice that the place quieter than usual. It may not be the fanciest restaurant in town, but it's rustic features and muted color palate hold a special place in your heart. Plus, their baked gnocchi is to die for.

Making your way to grab a table, you watch as Pero takes off his coat and rests it on the back of his chair. Taking the seat opposite you, he's quick to peruse the menu and you smile to yourself as his eyes widen. He notices that you haven't looked yourself but he chooses not to say anything, instead, allowing you to order and pick out some drinks for the both of them.

"You come here often, then?" He eventually asks, moving to sit back in the padded leather chair.

You smile and nod your head, relieved that you don't have to attempt to break the ice first, "It's my favourite," you explain, "I live nearby and it's the first place I came to when I moved, I'm a sucker for good pasta and wine"

He exhaled through his nose at that, and you guess that that's his version of a laugh. You can't help but smile, once again admiring his dark features.

"So, Pero" you start, "what is it that you do?"

At this question, you can see clearly as he begins to inch out of his shell. He gestures with his hands as he tells you about his role, that he's a security guard as the Museum of Natural History and is currently saving up money to start his own company. His expression seems to always be guarded, but you're careful to notice as snippets of excitement or happiness slip through his facade. You like it when he smiles you decide, watching the usual lines between his furrowed brows dissipate.

"I've got to ask though," you begin as he takes a bite of his food, "what type of security guard carries a card?"

You think back to the intricate card he gave to you when you first met, his name and number spelled out in delicate printed writing. A stark contrast to the man who's sat in front of you now.

"I'm...well, I'm trying to get my name out there" he answers, "though, I don't usually give them to strangers, I'm hoping to start building my own clientele"

"I'll be sure to hang on to it then" you smile, "I seem to be getting myself into an awful lot of trouble recently." Your laugh is dry, but thankfully the raised eye-brow he offers you in response is enough to make you smile again.

As the afternoon wears on, you probe him with more questions and it appears that he's happy to answer them. From your initial meeting, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows now, it's almost as if you've known eachother for years, or if you're already good friends.

Eventually, the topic of conversation turns to you; you tell him all about your job and life in the city. It isn't a particularly long conversation considering it's just you living here, but you can't help but notice as he hangs on to your each and every word. The look burning behind his chocolate-colored eyes is almost intense as he listens, an emotion flitting behind his pupils that you can't quite decipher.

You take a small pause to sip at your drink as the conversation eventually comes to a lull, and you can't help but gasp when you see how dark it is outside. How long have you been here for?

"I can see why you like it here so much" He eventually says, picking up his own glass and returning your attention to him, "I've...I've had a nice evening."

"I told you, the best pasta in the city." You laugh.

"A very strong argument," he pauses to consider, "but, I can assure I know where you can get the best burger."

"Well then, you may just have to show me some time" you respond without thinking. Though with that, you can feel the tips of your ears begin warm, it's been far too long since you last attempted to flirt.

"I know this may sound a little strange," he says, causing your heart to drop. Not the answer that you were looking for.

"But, I can't help but feel like, I've met you before?" He questions, the hardened lines between his brows coming back. So, not a rejection?

You can't help but look at him as you wonder how to respond, considering his words carefully. But then, you begin to think about how this particular man has been the sole subject of your thoughts recently, the echo of his voice never far from your mind. Does this mean that he has felt the same about you?

"I don't think we've met before," you answer, choosing your words carefully, "but, sometimes...you have felt, familiar?" you finish your sentence with a small laugh, hoping to come off as cute rather than stalker-ish.

He hums in response when you finish, but the intensity in his eyes never leaves as your waiter comes provide the bill and clear the table. As you sit back, you're almost glad for the buffer between you as you take a quick glance at him, his hands forming into fists as he waits.

"Are you alright?" You decide to ask as you grab your bag, pulling out your purse to pay.

After a second, he seems to snap out of his reverie, shaking his head and tapping the pockets of his jeans for his wallet.

"Yes, yes...of course" he mutters out, his usual stoic disposition quickly returning, "please, let me"

You hold your hand out against him, stopping him from reaching for any cash and you place down your own notes, "Like I said, this is a small thank you," you say softly, "I'm just sorry that there isn't more that I can do."

He nods his head and concedes, but he's quick to quell your anxieties, "this is more than enough." a pause, "I never actually expected to see you again"

You hum to yourself this time, "me neither" you respond almost thoughfully, "but, I'm glad that you did."

At your words, you swear that you can see the hint of a blush travelling up his neck. But, he's quick to shake it off, instead offering you just a small smile and a nod as you both begin to stand. Gathering your things and putting your coat on, you take a moment to look outside of the window next to you. It's only early in the evening, but the darkness is fast approaching as you plan out the quickest route home in your head.

"I think I can remember the way back to your apartment" Pero's voice disrupts your spiralling thoughts and you turn to face him, "I'd prefer to walk you home if that's alright."

For once, without any argument you nod your head and begin to make your way to the exit, Pero following behind closely. As you leave, you can't help but wonder whether he saw you looking out of the window, guessing your own anxieties before you even had the chance to express them yourself. But either way, you're grateful to have him so close by.

Once again, the walk between you is quiet. Yet this time, you notice that the silence is almost comforting as you make your way back home. You're even left surprised when he indulges you, waiting patiently as you buy fresh sunflowers on your way back. Though, you're left almost completely speechless as he takes the bunch from your hands, carrying them for the rest of the way as soon as you hand over the money to the florist.

You can't help the smile spreading across your face as you look at him, surrounded by yellow as you take out your keys to unlock the door to your apartment.

"Thanks for carrying those, by the way" you say, walking in and turning on the light, "you didn't have to"

He nods but follows you in silently, laying the bunch down carefully on the kitchen counter. You watch as he begins to move towards the door again, but you're quick to stop him for just a moment.

"Wait!" You say as you turn towards your bedroom, "You can finally have your jacket back!"

You root around your room and return to him just moments later, his jacket in your hand whilst he waits in the frame of your door.

"Gracias," he responds quietly, taking the thick material from your hands, "I didn't think I'd ever see this again either."

You let out a small laugh and look up at him, allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes once more, "Thank you for humoring me today, I'm sure you had a different idea of how you wanted to spend your afternoon and evening"

The lines on he forehead shrink as he lets out a lazy smile, "You'd be surprised" he motions with a raised eyebrow, "the food was worth it though"

"I told you" you quickly retort, your own brow raised in retaliation, "and, I would like to taste the best burger in the city too, if you're still up for showing me" You can feel the heat in your cheeks as you speak, but fuck it. Time to shoot your shot.

"I'd like that." He eventually breathes out, taking a step back to exit your home, "You have my number, yes?"

You nod enthusiatically, but you're quick to stop him from moving any further by wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Thank you, again" You mumble out against his chest, your eyes closed as you breathe in his scent.

After a moment, you feel his arms begin to wrap around you too, his chin moving down to rest on your head. Minutes seem to pass as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. However, you are surprised that he doesn't say anything more as your touch continues to linger. You'd thanked him enough today, you thought to yourself. Perhaps he's just finally tired of hearing it? So, after a few more seconds of selfish self-indulgence, you decide to unwravel yourself from around him before he becomes uncomfortable.

With a large sigh, you release your arms and take a step back. Smiling as you start to look back up to him.

Except, this time when you look up to him...you understand exactly why he hadn't said a word.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Tag List:

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #reader insert #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal character fan fiction #alternate universe

51 notes · View notes

metalbatandzenko · 5 years ago

Note

Continuing on with the college!Au Since Mumen is too shy and scared to confess his feelings to Saitama he decided to write secret love letters to Saitama (Which are totally cheesy) Saitama reaction is up to you.

The notes started small.

A hello here, a compliment there.

Saitama hadn’t even been the one to find the first one, Mumen had.

Mumen thumbed through their mail, sorting out the ads.

“Ad, bill, flyer, rent, ad–eh? Saitama, this one’s addressed to you.”

Saitama looked up from his position on the floor. “You can just get rid of it,” he said with a shrug. “An ad’s an ad no matter who it’s addressed to.”

Mumen flushed. “I don’t think that’s what this is.”

He held up a small blue envelope.

Saitama stood and took the envelope from Mumen.

The envelope didn’t have an address or stamp on it, just Saitama’s name written in neat, uniform letters.

Mumen turned on his heel. “Well, I’ll let you read it in private.”

Saitama stopped him, slinging his arm around his roommate. “Nah. Whatever this is, I’m sure you can see it too!”

Mumen swallowed.

Saitama nudged him. “Relax, man. People haven’t sent anthrax by mail in like, ten years.”

“What? No, I’m not worried about that,” Mumen said. “It’s just–this seems private, I’m gonna just–” he ducked under Saitama’s arm.

“Wh–Hey!”

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Mumen said, retreating into his room.

Saitama sighed, but turned his attention back to the envelope. He unsealed it and pulled out a greeting card with a monkey saying “Go bananas!” on it.

The card was one he and Mumen had seen when they’d gone grocery shopping the other day. He’d pulled it off the shelf and shown it to his roommate.

He chuckled. Mumen hadn’t been nearly as impressed with the card’s joke as Saitama.

Saitama opened the card.

In it was a short message:

Saw this card and thought of you. I hope you have a great day, handsome.

There was no signature, just a small heart at the bottom.

Saitama stared at the heart.

“Mumen, you can come out now, it was just a prank.”

His roommate materialized next to him. “A prank? What do you mean?”

Saitama jumped. “Ah! Don’t do that man!”

He hadn’t even known Mumen could move that fast.

Mumen backed up. “Sorry!”

“It’s ok. But yeah, it was just a prank.”

Mumen’s face darkened, taking Saitama aback.

He’d never seen more than a slight frown from the guy, and now he was borderline glowering.

“Why do you think it’s a prank?”

Saitama placed the card on the counter. “They called me handsome.”

Mumen blinked. “And?”

Saitama shrugged.

“Do you not think you’re handsome, Saitama?”

“Do you?” Saitama asked.

“Of course I do!” Mumen responded earnestly.

Saitama felt his face warm. “Oh. Okay.”

—

The fifth note was more extensive.

Saitama,

I hope this note finds you well. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately (not in a weird way, I promise). It’s just…you mean a lot to me. You’re sweet, you’re funny, you don’t let things or people get to you–it’s inspiring honestly.

I don’t know how to convince you that I’m earnest in my affection. Knowing how you are, you probably think I’m yanking your chain.

But I like you. I like you a lot.

And I promise I’m not just some random stalker creep. We know each other–know each other well, actually.

I’m just scared to say anything to you to your face because what if I screw everything up? I really value our friendship. I don’t want to lose that.

So until I figure out how to navigate that, these notes it is.

Have a good day, and stay safe.

Saitama chuckled at the disclaimers.

He pored over the note, tracing over the letters. The author had a distinct way of writing their r’s: the arc curled up and looped around.

He smiled. So they were serious.

—

After the fifth note, Saitama wrote a note of his own.

Hey,

Sorry I don’t have your name so I can’t address this properly. You’ve been on my mind a lot too, I mean, having a secret admirer is kinda exciting.

And I’m glad you’re someone I know. I’d like to know you better.

If the notes is how we do that, the notes it is.

-Saitama.

He put the note in a plain envelope and drew a simple heart on the outside. He placed it on the doorstep, where it would be easy to see.

When he went to grab the mail an hour later, the envelope was gone.

—

“Hey Sai, there was another note for you on the doorstep,” Mumen said, tossing him the envelope.

Saitama sat up. “Already?”

He opened the note.

Saitama,

I don’t know how much I can tell you about myself without revealing who I am.

How about two truths and a lie?

1. I’m a guy.

2. I once got bit by a rattlesnake.

3. I was attacked by crows when I was a kid.

Have fun :)

—

Hey,

Rattlesnakes aren’t native to anywhere local, so I’m gonna guess that’s your lie.

Here’s one of my own:

1. I shave my head

2. When I was a kid I wanted to be a superhero

3. I once got a package of premium steak for less than quarter of what it would normally cost because of my couponing

-Saitama

—

Saitama came home to a bouquet of red carnations on the kitchen counter with a note sticking out of the top.

Saitama,

Ding ding ding! Yep, I didn’t get bit by a rattlesnake. I did get bit by a garter snake, but those aren’t venomous. I hope you like your prize.

Obviously the answer is shaving your head. You bragged about the steak thing for weeks, and I’ve seen your comic book collection. You’re not fooling anyone.

If it makes you feel any better, I think the superhero thing is cute.

He turned to Mumen. “Did you bring these in?”

Mumen looked up from his position on the couch. “Yeah, your secret admirer gave me the flowers so they wouldn’t just be left on the doormat.”

Saitama sat down next to him. “So you know who he is?”

Mumen looked away. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You do!” Saitama scooted even closer. “Come on, just give me a hint.”

“That would be breaking strict wingman-admirer confidentiality,” Mumen stammered out.

Saitama huffed. “You’re no fun.”

—

Saitama came home the next day to find a sticky-note stuck on the fridge, covered in Mumen’s familiar scrawl.

Sai,

We’re out of vegetables. Gonna hit the store. Don’t worry, I brought your coupon books, I promise we’re getting the best deal on the food.

Be back soon.

-Mumen

Saitama snorted, plucking the note off the fridge.

His eyes locked on the word store.

On the r was a little loop, just like the ones in the letters he’d been getting.

Saitama opened the drawer he’d been storing the letters in.

The p’s, r’s and e’s on the letters were all formed the same as the one in Mumen’s note, albeit a neater version.

—

Mumen opened the door, arms laden with groceries. “Sai, mind giving me a hand?”

His roommate took one of the bags from him. “How was the store?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he replied. “You’d be proud of me. I took this ramen from an old man.”

“I’ve never been more attracted to you in my life.”

Mumen felt his face warm.

The two unloaded the groceries in silence.

“So…you got attacked by crows as a kid, huh?”

Mumen’s hands stilled.

Saitama stuttered, seeming to take Mumen’s stunned silence as offense.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to figure it out it’s just–I saw your note, and I saw the letters and your handwriting is similar and–”

“Did I ruin it?” He asked quietly.

His roommate paused. “Ruin what?”

Mumen swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Our friendship.”

“Did you–what? No. Hey, look at me.”

Mumen looked up.

Saitama grinned at him. “I’ve been flirting with you for months, man. You just never seemed to realize it. I was hoping it was you.”

“What?”

His roommate stared at him. “Mumen, everyone but you knew that.”

“WHAT?!”

Saitama laughed. “You’re cute when you’re surprised.” He lifted his hand, cupping Mumen’s cheek. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Mumen leaned into Saitama’s palm. “Yeah, you too.”

“…Ok but I do need an explanation of that crow thing.”

#my writing #mumensai

38 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 6 years ago

Note

3 Davenzi ; ik Davenzi angst is hard but like pls

okay i got extremely carried away. i apologize in advanced. anyway heres a ridiculously long davenzi flower shop auwarning: mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideation (which is really odd to say after i just said it was a flower shop au but here we are)

“Hi, welcome to Schreiber’s Flowers.”

David didn’t look up from his sketchbook even as he greeted whoever had walked through the door and made the bell ring throughout the small shop. It had been a slow day and, with 30 minutes left, he was ready to go ahead and close up shop. However, Laura would yell at him for the rest of his life if he closed early. What was the point of owning your own store if you can’t close whenever the hell you want?

“Mom’s like flowers, right?” The voice startled David and he looked up to see a boy standing quite close despite being on the other side of the counter. His bangs hung in front of his eyes as he leaned his elbows on the glass countertop, the tip of his tongue peeking out from his lips as he traced his teeth.

David thought of every slow-motion, heart-stopping, head-spinning scene in every romance movie or show or novel and how he’d always assumed they were stupid. And, honestly, they were stupid. Incredibly stupid. But suddenly this guy was in front of him and his body temperature rose and he almost forgot he had a job to do.

“Um, yeah, I’d say so,” David responded after an embarrassingly long time. The guy flashed a lopsided grin, sinking further onto the counter until he was gazing up at David through his hair. He was easily the cutest guy he’d seen all week. When he smiled, he definitely might be the cutest all year. Bless whoever sent him his way.

“It’s your job to say so.”

“Maybe,” David mused, crossing his arms as he leaned forward and gave the guy a little smirk. He smiled wider.

“I missed her call last week and didn’t call her back and she’s still mad at me. Got any special flowers for that occasion?” he asked. David bit down on his lip as he scanned his face, pretending like he actually thought about it.

“Depends on how much you wanna spend.”

“Not much.”

David smiled, “Okay.”

They spent the next twenty or so minutes walking around the shop, talking aimlessly about flowers. David was more than a little sure that the guy had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded like he got it. He smiled sweetly and offered up comments that might pass for witty if David wanted to stretch enough to give him credit. He did.

The guy ended up settling on three yellow Asiatic lilies without much extra filler in an attempt to keep the price down. They still looked pretty and, after David wrapped them up, they were big enough to give the illusion that it might’ve been more expensive than they actually were. David leaned his elbows on the countertop and the guy mimicked. His heart thudded harder in his chest when he realized that the flowers were the main thing separating their arms from touching.

“You wanna write a note?” David asked. The guy grinned, nodding his head and his hair covering more of his face. David found it hard to take his eyes off of him when he dug beneath the register for a slip of paper and a pen. He slid it over to him, his stomach tightening when their knuckles grazed.

The guy sat there for a moment, leaning over it and not writing a damn thing before looking up at David with those painfully blue eyes, “What do I write?” David laughed.

“Something simple. Maybe a ‘please don’t disown me’ might work,” David suggested, the guy before him snorting. He really needed to get his name. Or his number. Both, preferably.

“You, sir, are a genius,” he said, pointing the pen at him before crouching back over the paper. Something in David’s chest bloomed, heat making its way through his veins and lighting every inch of him on fire. What the fuck was this. The guy’s eyes peeked up through his hair again, “You wouldn’t happen to have good handwriting, would you?”

David rolled his eyes as he took the pen from the guy’s hand, “You know, I should just say from it’s from the both of us since I’m doing all the work here.”

“Maybe so. What’s your name?” The guy’s tongue pressed to the back of his teeth and David felt lightheaded.

“David,” he answered, pausing to let his eyes skim over him once again, “and you?”

The guy pushed up on his toes, leaning closer, “Matteo.”

Matteo, Matteo, Matteo, Matteo, Matteo, Matteo. The name danced around his mind like it was playing a game, teasing him with the idea that he’d see him after he left the shop. David barely left the flower shop as it was and he lived above it so it wasn’t even like he had the excuse of walking home to seek him out. Instead, he had to wonder if he really should just ask for his number or if he should just let him walk away.

“Here you go,” David said as he tucked the note into the flowers. He had to let him walk away. That was his only real option.

David rung him up and tried to avoid staring at him anymore. That made it a fuckton harder to let him leave without asking to see him again. However, he knew that’s the way it had to be. David didn’t have much to offer. He lived with his sister, worked in his sister’s shop, was too scared to leave the house. He wasn’t inherently social or charming or anything special. He was virtually a hermit.

Matteo, on the other hand, had a smile to light the world and was charming and he carried himself with a confident swagger that screamed ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think about me’. He had books protruding out of his unzipped back that he’d dropped before the front desk, one of which being a biology textbook which meant he was in college and had dreams about life. His phone had buzzed multiple times since he’d walked in, saying he had friends and probably went out. Hell, he’d even been the one to ask for David’s name. He probably wanted someone just as outgoing.

He probably wasn’t even into guys.

“Thanks,” Matteo said as he eventually started heading towards the door, though he walked backward and basically forced David to hold his gaze with some sort of authority he couldn’t say no to, “David.”

Matteo stepped out of the flower shop with a grin, spinning around to the soft ding of the bell. David collapsed into his chair, his head thrown back as his body turned to mush. What gave him the right to say his name like that? It made his head spin. He’d heard the name David come out of a million different people, his own included, and yet none of them sounded so perfect. None of them had sounded like it was specially crafted to fit into someone mouth like it did with Matteo.

“David, are you okay down there? We do close at 5, you know!” Laura suddenly called from the stairway that led to their apartment, shaking him from his Matteo-induced daze. He glanced over at the clock, the big hand and the little hand forming an unmistakable 5:30.

Whoops.

David thought he’d died and gone to heaven when Matteo walked in the next day.

Caught off guard and more than a little flustered, David just barely croaked out a, “hey.” Matteo licked his lips and grinned as he walked confidently up to the counter again, leaning against it on his elbows.

“Hey yourself.”

David couldn’t think of what to say or do. He’d thought about this stupid guy since the moment he saw him the day prior. He could barely hold a conversation at dinner with Matteo on the brain and he couldn’t even think about the dreams he’d had without blushing. He had tried to push the thought of him away when he’d woken up, but it had only started to work whenever he got back from his lunch break.

That didn’t last long.

Matteo’s tongue prodded the inside of his cheek before swiping across his bottom lip, disappearing behind a large lopsided smile and a huffed laugh. Cue the dizziness.

“So, my mom really liked those flowers. Thanks,” he said. David blinked. “Any chance you know anything about the language of flowers?”

“Uh,” he paused, desperately trying to clear his head enough to have a conversation. He could feel his cheeks getting redder and redder by the minute and he wanted to burst of embarrassment. Matteo only seemed to smile through it. “A little.”

Matteo sunk down, his chin resting on his hands that pressed flat against the counter. He gazed up through his hair and David’s fingers twitched, desperate to push his bangs aside to get a real view of those eyes. He didn’t, obviously, deciding to just stare at them and only them, definitely not Matteo’s slightly pursed lips that were too perfect to be real.

“Teach me?”

Fuck.

Every day for the next two weeks, Matteo would turn up around thirty minutes before closing and would stay a little later each day. David was getting a little addicted to his company, spending every moment without him giddy for when he’d turn up next. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d had a friend, much less a friend that looked like that, and he was loving every minute of it.

While they had definitely drifted to talking about everything under the sun, they’d gone back to the topic of the language of flowers every once in a while. Matteo thought it was spectacularly funny that they had a whole section of flowers dedicated for rejection and David had done more research than he’d done in his life specifically to tell him more, to get him to laugh more. Aside from that, he’d seemed especially fascinated with the flowers that stood for love, unspoken love, absolute affection, devotion. He said it was sweet that they managed to say so much with so little. David had told him his favorite was the red tulip.

“It’s basically like saying, ‘believe me when I say I love’. It could be for any occasion. Like, if someone was going away forever, they could send that as a final sacrament of their love,” David had explained as they sat on the floor of the flower shop, the doors locked for the night and their backs against the front desk. Their shoulders were touching and it had David soaring.

“That’s really dramatic,” Matteo had teased, “I think you should be able to say that without a big ending. You should make sure the person you love knows that you love them every day of the week.” David remembered turning to face him and discovering their faces were just a few inches apart. Of all the times he’d thought about kissing him, that was the time he regretted the most that he didn’t. Next time I see him, he promised himself.

That was four days ago.

“Your little friend coming today?” Laura asked teasingly as David got ready for work, taking extra time to make sure his hair looked presentable. Matteo never really went out of his way to look put together, but he pulled off the sloppy look better than anyone in the whole world so David didn’t expect him to change that. But that didn’t mean he was going to try to do the same.

“Stop,” David groaned, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. He’d worked up the courage since he left the night before after spending nearly three hours laying the floor together and talk about anything and everything. Matteo had even opened up to him about his father leaving him and his mother a few years back without much of a warning, fucking off to Italy and only talking when Matteo called him first. David felt bad for him, but he felt special that he got to know something so personal.

That personal admission had prompted David to share something personal of his own‒his sketchbook. Matteo had flipped through it for an hour, trying his best to give artistic comments. He mainly stuck with waxing poetic on how talented he was.

Sometime during that, Matteo’s hand had grazed his own. It had made his whole body tense, head to toe, and he’d stared at him like he was choking him. In a way, he sort of was because he decided not to move his hand away. It was almost like it was intentional.

“When are you going to ask him out?” Laura asked, ignoring his pleas for her to drop it. The moment she’d discovered the reason he was staying late was because of a guy, she wouldn’t stop teasing him. David guessed it was his fault for being completely isolated for two years, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

“I’m not.”

“David! He really likes you!” Laura said and David snorted in disbelief. Where the hell did she get that from? “Oh, so you’re telling me this guy goes out of his way to come spend hours of time with you every single day, but he doesn’t like you?”

“I don’t think he’s into guys.”

“David,” she said, coming up behind him in the mirror and resting her chin on his shoulder, “To me, it sounds like he’s more than into you. He’s probably thinking you aren’t into him. He’s been reaching out for two weeks. Reach out to him. Don’t let what your brain is saying keep you from him. You’re allowed to have someone and be loved, no matter what happened to you in the past.”

David mulled over her words as she smiled, patting him on the back and heading down to open up shop. He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering if maybe she was right. Maybe Matteo was just waiting for him to make a move. Maybe the hand touching, the handful of close-enough-to-be-kisses, and the constant hanging out was him saying he was interested. David had a hard fucking time understanding why someone like Matteo would be even kind of interested in him, but… maybe it was worth figuring out. And maybe, just maybe, if he wasn’t into him like that, he’d still come out of it with a friend.

So, today, for the first time in years, he was going to put himself on the line. For Matteo.

But then he didn’t show.

David stared at the door until well after they closed up, each minute that passed crushing his hopes a little more. That was it, it had to be a sign. The day that he was going to grow a pair and ask Matteo out, he didn’t show. He’d probably gotten tired of him, tired of talking to someone who didn’t have any stories outside of high school and the TV shows he watched. He bored him to death until he didn’t want to see him anymore. Go fucking figure.

That night, David didn’t sleep much. He was too busy trying to figure out if he’d done something wrong the night before or if he really was that boring. For hours, he ridiculed himself for waiting too long, for wasting time and ruining his chances. A guy like Matteo wasn’t just going to wait around forever, especially when David didn’t even fucking leave the house. He was pathetic.

The next morning, David didn’t bother making himself look nice. He let his hair look hardly tame and decided to just wear his sweats. It’s not like anyone would see it. Not anyone important that is.

David trudged down the steps and opened up shop with the same level of gravitas. It wasn’t until he unlocked the door and flipped around the sign that he noticed a note taped to the glass. He blinked in confusion a few times before deciding to grab it off the door. When he looked at it, he nearly stopped breathing.

Things came up, I promise to explain xx

Beneath the messy handwriting was a sloppily drawn flower, the petals colored in haphazardly with a red pen. Beside it read ‘tulip’ with an arrow pointing towards it. A red tulip.

David ran right back upstairs to fix his hair.

“So your mom’s going to be okay and everything, right?”

David watched as Matteo gave a tired smile and nodded. Apparently, something had gone wrong and his mother had ended up in the hospital. He said he managed to slip away for a bit around 3 in the morning which is when he’d left the note. Currently, he was just supposed to go home to take a shower before heading back, but he wanted to stop by to say he didn’t mean to leave him hanging. David’s hopes were higher than ever.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. They’re keeping her for observation,” Matteo said. His voice was soft and he was mostly avoiding eye contact. As special as David felt, he also hated to keep him away. He didn’t know exactly what was going on with his mom, but he wasn’t about to be the reason he wasn’t with her.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” David insisted. He wanted to ask him out and he definitely planned to do so, but now was a bad time. Actually, now was the worst time. So he decided against it.

“You’re fine, seriously, I wanna be here. I can waste a few minutes if they’re for you,” Matteo said and as tired as he looked, he still came off ungodly charming. That familiar feeling that came with Matteo’s presence burst into his chest without much warning. David smiled, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I really like talking to you.”

David smiled softly, “Me too.”

“Do you think… do you think I could get your number?” Matteo asked. It was the shyest he’d ever seen him in all the time he’d known him. He almost always had this air of confidence around him even when he said the dumbest shit in the world, but not today. Maybe he was tired or stressed, or maybe David actually had the power to make someone nervous.

It seemed unlikely.

“Y-yeah, absolutely!” he answered almost immediately and proceeded to mentally kick himself for sounding way too eager. Matteo’s smile subdued the embarrassment.

Matteo didn’t stay much longer, but he texted him the minute he walked out. David was satisfied.

Matteo: Do you want to come over tonight?

David stared at the phone for so long he was wondering if he should even reply. Granted, the message had been sent sometime between David going to sleep and waking up, but he still had seen it for a long time. Matteo probably thought he was ignoring him.

The two of them had been texting on and off for over a week every minute they weren’t together. He couldn’t leave his phone alone when it lit up with his name and he stayed up ridiculously late every night for him. A few nights, they’d called and talked until they both fell asleep on the phone. David felt like a teenager all over again and he was crushing like one. He didn’t want to admit how many doodles he had of Matteo in his sketchbook and even on the pages that weren’t of him, his name was written in the corners covered in hearts.

The only problem is that he had no idea how Matteo was feeling and he didn’t know how to take the proposition of going to his house.

“Laura,” David said as he stepped into the flower shop, “I need help.”

He hated asking her any of her opinions on the Matteo situation, but he was feeling desperate and he didn’t know anyone else. So he placed his phone in front of her and waited for her to tell him what to do.

“Oh my god! Say yes!” Laura pressured, “You finally have a good excuse to go somewhere!”

“But what does it mean?”

“Does it matter?”

Okay, valid point.

“But what if… What if he wants to, like, hook up? What do I say? He’s gonna notice that‒” David tried, subconsciously pulling his sleeves over the heels of his hands. Laura grabbed his hands gently, looking into his eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if he does and you do, then just tell him. There’s no harm done, not if he really likes you,” she promised. David took a deep breath as he tried to accept what she was saying.

There was a chance that Matteo really liked him. He was so tired of not taking risks. Matteo was the one to take.

David: sure what time?

“It’s not much, but…”

David let his eyes look around the small apartment, his fingers tapping against his leg anxiously. It exuded Matteo. It was vaguely cluttered, not messy, just lived in. It was homey and welcoming and it helped subdue his nerves. Well, helped a little. It was the first time he’d gone anywhere aside from the little grocery store next to the flower shop in over a year and it had to be where he was alone with a boy. That was the most stressful shit ever.

Nonetheless, he powered through and Matteo led him to his room. A few words were shared here and there before Matteo eventually just handed him a Switch controller and gave him something far less stressful to focus on. Turns out, hanging out with a friend can be fun.

“So, where’s your mom?” David asked after a few hours of going back and forth winning games of Mario Kart. Matteo licked his lips, his eyes on the floor. It took less than a few seconds for David to realize he fucked up and that he really should’ve noticed that Matteo had been smiling a lot less frequently in the last week. “Sorry, I shouldn’t‒”

“She’s in the hospital,” Matteo answered simply, reaching over to put his controller on the desk in the corner. David chewed on his bottom lip, too scared to say anything. He’d come to hang out and be enjoyable and he fucked it up by upsetting him. He was already upset and David had barely even noticed, too wrapped up in his stupid little crush and his own issues. How was he supposed to have a crush on someone when he couldn’t even pay enough attention to their feelings? “A psychiatric hospital.”

David nodded slowly, not knowing what to say that wouldn’t make it worse. He didn’t want to ask questions, he didn’t want to put himself where he didn’t belong. He just wanted to be there for Matteo.

“She was in and out of there my whole fucking childhood. I thought she was good now though, you know? Like, she hasn’t been bad since my dad left and, and I make sure she takes her medicine and goes to therapy. But I-I left her alone for too long, I think, and before I knew it, I was getting a call saying she’d fucking cut her wrists open. I should’ve been watching her,” Matteo said, his voice slowly becoming thick with tears. David felt sick. He was the reason Matteo hadn’t been home as much. He was the reason he felt so guilty. It being over something like this made him feel even worse.

David put his hand on his knee.

“It’s not your fault. Those things… they just happen. It’s no one’s fault. It’s not hers, it’s not yours. Sometimes things just get bad and all you can think is that… it needs to stop,” David said softly. He knew the feeling too well, too personally. He had spent so long pushing them away, but he knew even the slightest worrying change could make it all come back. He wondered if Matteo’s mom felt the same way.

“I know. Really, logically, I know, but… can’t help but feel like I pushed it somehow,” Matteo whispered, sniffling. David took a chance and moved his arm to wrap around his shoulders. In a second, Matteo’s head hit his shoulder.

“I wish I could make you feel better.”

They fell silent, Matteo’s hand reaching out to David’s spare one. His heart thudded in his chest for more than one reason as Matteo played with his hand, his sleeve riding up just enough to cause panic. However, he managed to stay calm for Matteo because he needed it and let him trace over his fingers and his palms as rogue tears slipped into the fabric of his sweater.

“You wanna make me feel better?” Matteo asked after a while. David let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, slightly scared of what was going to come next. Eventually, he decided it was worth it.

“I’d do anything.”

Before he could even close his mouth all the way after speaking, Matteo’s lips were on his own. David squeaked a noise of surprise, his hands shooting up as Matteo continued to kiss him. So much of him wanted to kiss back, to enjoy this moment, he couldn’t do it. Not when he understood.

“Stop,” David managed to say, very gently pushing him away even as he allowed their foreheads to rest against each other. Matteo’s eyes frantically searched his face, his lips folded between his teeth as tears brimmed his eyes again.

“I thought you said anything.”

“Not… not that. Not when you’re upset. I don’t wanna kiss you when you’re like this, I’d be taking advantage,” David whispered, trying to soothe him before he got the wrong idea. It seemed it was too late though

“Then get out,” Matteo decided, pushing him away. David blinked a few times and told himself not to take it personally.

“Matteo, I‒”

“I said get out.”

“Look, I understand you’re upset, but I think‒”

“What don’t you understand about get out?! Clearly, I shouldn’t have even asked you over, you don’t understand when to fucking leave! No wonder you stay holed up in the stupid fucking shop!” David couldn’t find any words. “Yeah, I fucking know that you never leave! What’s wrong with you anyway? Are you fucked up too?”

David’s mouth went dry, “I‒”

Matteo shook his head, pushing him away even more as he tacked on a, “No, don’t tell me, I really don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my house.”

David stood without another word and headed towards the door. He knew he was upset, he knew he didn’t really mean anything he’d said, but it still hurt. No matter how much he tried to make sure he didn’t take it to heart, it was too accurate to ignore. He was fucked up. Not even three years ago he’d been exactly where Matteo’s mom was and now it was hard to even step outside the house in fear he’d be right back where he was. That was as fucked up as it got, wasn’t it?

His hand had just reached for the door to the apartment when he was stopped.

“Wait,” Matteo called, much softer than it had been less than a minute prior. David reluctantly glanced over his shoulder to see Matteo standing in the hallway, looking weaker than he ever had. And to think he had originally thought Matteo had nothing but confidence. “What were you gonna say?” David furrowed his eyebrows.

“When?”

“I asked…” Matteo trailed off, his eyes shifting towards the floor and his socked foot rubbed over the other one. David gulped, taking his hand off the doorknob.

“Yeah, I’m fucked up too, we all are. You already pointed out I don’t leave the shop,” David said, admittedly sounding colder than he should’ve. He knew Matteo was just acting out. He hadn’t been on Matteo’s side of the equation, he didn’t know what it felt like to be raised by someone who couldn’t be trusted with their own life. He just didn’t know.

“Why?”

David sighed, “Because when I leave, I’m too aware of bad shit that happens in the world and when I become too aware of that then I… want to do something stupid again.” David regretted it as soon as it said it. He didn’t like to talk about what had happened. He barely liked to think about it. The whole situation was embarrassing. Who reacts to graduating high school by trying to kill themselves? He should’ve been happy for a new start, but he couldn’t be like that. He found too much negative in positive things.

Except for Matteo.

“No,” Matteo said, though his face was heavy with the meaning of David’s admission, “Why’d you leave for me?”

Just like that, some of the tension that had been building in his body since he’d gotten that stupid text began to drain. David leaned his back against the door, staring at Matteo who seemed more and more gutted by the minute.

“Because I really, really like you. I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone as much as I like you. When you asked me to come over, I was barely even scared to leave, I was more scared for you to find out that I’ve got issues,” David admitted. Matteo bit down his lip, nodding his head. After a few too many minutes of silence, he decided that he should go.

“Wait,” Matteo repeated just as he went to turn the knob. He sighed but waited anyway. “I’m sorry that I ruined our first kiss.”

David’s forehead hit the door.

“Please don’t walk out that door. I’m sorry.”

David was more than a little reluctant as he obeyed. He needed to cool down and clear his head, but he didn’t want to leave Matteo alone. That’s what everything seemed to point to. He didn’t want to be alone. That was a side of things David did understand, he understood it so goddamn well. He wasn’t about to do that Matteo.

Within the next hour, David found himself lying in bed with Matteo tightly wrapped up in his arms. Turns out cuddling is better medicine than laughter. He felt relaxed for the first time in a long time and he was forcing himself to let it happen. Too many times he’d let bad thoughts ruin good things. He wasn’t about to let it ruin things with Matteo.

Sure, they needed to talk. They needed to discuss a few important things and patch up a few hurtful things that had happened that night, but overall it felt like the start of something good. Things were going to go better. He could feel it.

A few days later, David found a real red tulip taped to the door of the flower shop even though they still had a couple weeks before they were officially in season. It came with a note.

Believe me when I say…

#i apologize for sort of skipping over david being trans #im cis and i didn't feel comfortable trying to write about his struggles with that #id get it wrong and nope #davenzi #davenzi au #david schreibner #david schreibner fic #matteo florenzi #matteo florenzi fic #druck #druck fic #flower shop au #request #5k word #davids pov

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

Text

The Parting Chapter Seven

Description: The only certainty in life is death, and it seems to follow Park Jimin. All his life, the icy shadow of death has hung closely by his side, along with the shadow of…something else. Reapers exist to guide the souls of the living to the world beyond. But what happens when a particular Reaper tampers with the natural order and saves a mortal boy’s life? What will they do once their fates become inextricably linked?

Genre: Supernatural, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jimin x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.8k

Tags: Flower Shop Owner!Jimin, Reaper!OC, Non-Idol!AU, Cop!Yoongi, Supernatural!AU

Warnings: Death, swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: HI BABES! How are you all doing? I hope you’re doing well and if you’ve started school already, then I hope you’re not feeling too stressed. I’m still working on all the requests I have, but don’t worry! If you’ve requested something, then I will get through it within the next week or so. I’m sorry for the delay! I just have to juggle a bit between writing this fic and writing requests. As always, I will respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them, so feel free and feel comfortable sending me anything! And please send feedback, criticism, comments or concerns my way so I can address them.

AHH! And please follow @actualsoonshine! She’s such a lovely person, and my IRL friend and she just started her writing blog! If you like Seventeen and BTS, you will LOVE her!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Chapter One

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Jimin sat up gently and turned to me, brows furrowed. “Nari, are you alright?”

I sobbed as I looked at him. I could tell from the innocent, fretful expression on his face. He didn’t remember. I felt inside me something altogether new. A nameless frustration that manifested in tears. I never knew I’d become so hungry for answers. I never knew that having those answers appear before me and then suddenly disappear in one fell swoop would be so incredibly infuriating. I wiped my eyes and shook my head as Jimin propped himself upright, eyes scanning me worriedly.

“You don’t remember anything?” I asked, desperation sitting heavy like fog in the air.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I sleep walk a little and I don’t remember it in the morning,” he said, voice low as he scooted closer to me on his knees, placing his hands on my wet cheeks. “Nari…”

I sniffled, eyes cast on the linoleum. “It wasn’t that,” I said.

He gently guided my face closer to his so I would look at him properly. “What are you talking about? You’re starting to scare me a little.”

I felt more tears brewing in my chest, but became powerless to stop them as I looked at his pure expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t withholding information from me. He simply…didn’t remember. Just like that.

“I had a dream,” I said quietly. “A really strange dream.”

He nodded. “Did you remember something? Is that why you’re crying?” he asked.

I shook my head and shooed his hands off my burning skin. “Forget it,” I said, standing shakily to my feet. “Just…go to bed.” I began towards my room but stopped short as he grabbed for my wrist, fingers tight.

“Wait! We agreed that we’d start trusting each other more. Talk to me,” he said. He was begging me.

I sniffled once more and considered shaking him off again, considered going back to bed and burying my head in the sheets where I could cry and cry and greet him in the morning as if nothing had happened at all. But he spoke again, and when he did his voice broke.

“Please.”

I turned to look at him. Perhaps subconsciously, he wanted to remember too. Perhaps deep down he knew there was something between us that went deeper than either of us imagined. Perhaps we were both the keys to unlocking it. And perhaps…perhaps if I told him what I’d been dreaming, if I let him in just a little…

Perhaps we could solve it together.

I sighed and settled on the small couch, watching the rug as Jimin joined me. “You said you knew who I was,” I said.

He stiffened beside me. “I…I don’t know why I would say something like that.”

“Me either,” I said, then met his eyes. “But you know it means something, right?”

He blinked rapidly a few times before sighing and grabbing at tufts of his hair. “I don’t know, Nari. Earlier, I was mostly playing around. Do you really think there’s something weird between us?”

I nodded. “More than I can even say,” I said. “I’m certain of it.”

He watched me carefully, reading me. He stared at me long enough for Miso to leave his bedroom and pad over to us. Long enough for me to hear the refrigerator kicking on. Long enough for my tears to nearly stop. And, after an eternity, he nodded and his hand fell from his hair to his lap.

“Okay…assuming that’s the case then…what does any of it mean?” he asked.

I sighed, patting my chest and shutting my puffy eyes. There really was a special sense of relief that came from confiding in someone. “I don’t know. But Jimin…I’ve been having really strange dreams.”

Jimin tilted his head to the side as Miso jumped onto the arm of the couch, peering at us with glowing eyes. “What kind of dreams?”

I shook my head and turned to him properly, grabbing his forearm. “Jimin, do you know what shinbyeong is?”

Jimin cocked his head and pursed his lips. “I…I’ve heard of it. It has something to do with old shamanism. Like…when a shaman was becoming a shaman they say that they’d go through shinbyeong. It’s like…,” he paused and glanced into the middle ground, thinking. “I’m trying to remember what I learned about it from high school, but it’s something about the death of the self. Like, assuming a god as yourself.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head. “That’s impossible.” I’d have known if the spirits of gods were entering the bodies of humans. And, furthermore, I’d never even heard the term before having those dreams. “What happens during this time?”

He shrugged. “I think…it was kind of like out-of-body experiences? Hallucinations or something?”

I sighed. “It doesn’t help much,” I said. “I’ve been having dreams that I was a poor girl a long time ago. I can’t tell exactly when but I can approximate. There were kings and a royal astronomer.”

“Goryeo?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “The language wasn’t so unfamiliar. It was Joseon.”

“Huh,” he said, then shook his head. “I know this is weird, but do you believe in reincarnation?”

I shook my head. “I do not,” I said, releasing his forearm. That much was true. I did not know where souls went after being Reaped, but I knew they didn’t fly off to another body.

“Maybe you should start,” he commented, then sighed and leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his wild, fluffy hair. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re remembering a past life.”

“That’s impossible, Jimin,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He shrugged. “Why?”

Because I was not human. Because I was a Reaper. Because this was the first time I’d ever been in a human body…

Wasn’t it?

I shook my head. “Jimin, it is impossible.”

I watched him swallow roughly before he glanced away and nodded. “Then…I don’t know, Nari. It’s weird. What else did you dream of?”

“I had a family,” I said. “A younger sister and a mother and a grandmother.”

“No men? In the Joseon era?”

I nodded. “We were in the lowest social class. Cheonmin.”

He raised his brows as Miso hopped agilely off the side of the couch and onto his lap. “Not slaves?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Seems like shamanism ran through the family, although my sister was not affected. My mother did not believe in it,” I said, then coughed slightly. “Or…whoever they were.”

Jimin inhaled sharply. “And…you said I woke up saying I knew who you were?” he asked, his eyes tinged silver in the moonlight.

“Yes,” I said, watching his jaw work, clenching and unclenching.

“I…I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” he said, then huffed, causing Miso to startle and jump across the couch to my lap. “I’m so sorry, Nari.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, but…,” I began, them glanced at him. His expression was weak, frustrated. “I wonder if perhaps you also had a strange dream.”

His eyes snapped towards mine. “I…I mentioned that I dream about wearing a hanbok a lot, right? Back at the hospital?”

I conjured the memory and, although it was only a week ago it felt like a lifetime. Sitting in the sterile room. Talking of dreams… I nodded. “I remember.”

“I…Nari, I know you don’t believe in this stuff, but whenever I’d have a dream like that my mom would tell me it was just…deja vu. From my past life,” he said, then scoffed. “It sounds so stupid saying it out loud, but with everything you’ve been dreaming of…it’s the only thing I can think of.”

I furrowed my brow. How did I know for certain that reincarnation was impossible? Just because I didn’t see it myself? I was a Reaper after all. I only dealt in death, not what happens after…

I sighed. “So you think…I’m remembering a past life?”

He nodded. “I don’t understand it, but,” he began, grabbing my hand, “maybe since you lost your memory…different memories are returning.” His words came out quiet, careful, like they were meticulously hand-chosen.

I nodded. “It is the most reasonable conclusion for the time being,” I said, then gave his warm, soft hand a squeeze. “If I remember anything else, can I come to you?”

He nodded eagerly and flashed a bright smile. “Of course! Anytime.”

I forced a smile and glanced away. “Thank you.”

He blinked at me and chuckled, a fluttering, nervous sound. He patted the top of my hand and withdrew his own. “Y-You’re welcome,” he said, laughing once more as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I stared at him for a long moment, scanning his soft features, the kiss of blush in his cheeks. I sighed, long and slow, and nodded. “We’ll figure it out together, then.”

I counted the bills in the cash register quietly the next morning, Jimin retrieving new buds from the greenhouse and placing the pots prettily along the countertops. Jin had Wednesdays off, so the two of us worked quietly alone. As I counted the last of the money I tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow. Jimin’s shop was surprisingly wealthy for such a small place. I glanced at him as he worked, a soft smile on his lips, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he focused on the pots. I smiled too. There was some relief at least in sharing my burdens.

The front door bells tinkled and a patron entered the shop. I was midway through standing straighter to greet them when I saw who it was. “Oh, Jisoo,” I said with a chuckle.

She approached the desk, her hair pulled back with a delicate floral pin on one side. She leaned forward at the waist and rested her hands on the counter, her chin on her hands. She smiled up at me and, coyly, turned her head to the side slightly, revealing the pin. I glanced at her, placing the money into Jimin’s tackle box, and took a proper look at her new accessory. As I did, my eyebrows raised and I smiled.

“Lilies,” I said.

She grinned and leaned away, popping her hip to the side and resting a hand on her pleated skirt. “Pretty right?” she asked.

I nodded. “It suits you,” I said. “But I get the sense that there’s something more to it.”

She laughed and nodded her head eagerly. “It’s a gift,” she said, flipping her tidy hair behind her shoulder. “From that boy.”

My eyes widened. “You don’t say!”

She nodded. “I do say.”

Jimin approached and stood beside me, easily draping an arm over my shoulders. I felt myself flush and glanced away, back towards the register. “Our Jisoo looks so pretty today!” he exclaimed, laughing.

Jisoo rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to take compliments from any other boys from now own,” she said, then smiled at her hands, clasped around the handle of her book bag. “Since I have someone I like now.”

I grinned. “What progress you’ve made!”

She met my eyes and nodded vigorously. “It’s thanks to you! After we talked yesterday, I realized it was better for me to be there for him like he really needed rather than trying to take care of him without him knowing.”

“And?” I encouraged.

She smiled. “And it turns out he knew it was me all along,” she said, bashfully rubbing the back of her neck. She chuckled. “He was just waiting for me to come and talk to him properly. He bought this for me after I got him that bouquet you recommended, Jimin.”

“Ah, the lilies,” I said, nodding.

Jisoo cocked her head to the side and peered up at me. “But you weren’t there, Nari. How would you know?”

I coughed into the crook of my elbow and shook my head. “I just meant the lilies on your hairpin,” I said.

She furrowed her brow and nodded. “Well, anyway we’ve agreed to eat lunch together now.”

“Good for you, Jisoo. I’m glad things worked out so well,” said Jimin, then chuckled softly. I felt it rumble in his chest, just beside my shoulder. My heart thundered. “Although I don’t really know what you’re talking about exactly.”

Jisoo waved her hand. “I’ll fill you in later,” she said. “For now, I’d better get to class. I just wanted to show Nari the pin.”

I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips. I met her eyes and gently reached across the counter to smooth her hair down, tucking it behind the pin carefully. “It looks beautiful.”

She beamed at me. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be sure to come visit again sometime soon! Maybe I’ll be able to bring him with me this time.”

I nodded. “I’d love to meet him.”

“Me too!” added Jimin, leaning one hand on the counter as Jisoo ran out the door and onto the sidewalk, waving wildly over one shoulder. “She’s cute,” he remarked.

I slipped from beneath his arm and nodded. “She is a good girl.”

Jimin smiled down at me. “You like her don’t you?” he asked.

I glanced away. “Of course not. I’m…fond of her precociousness.” I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair.

He flicked the side of my head and shook his own. “You’re allowed to care about people,” he said, then chuckled. “The way I see it, you care a lot more than you realize.”

I stiffened. “How so?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I know you have some information that would’ve put Jungkook in a tougher spot,” he said, turning on his heel as he made his way back towards the greenhouse. He glanced at me over his shoulder and smiled. “But you chose not to share it. I wonder why.”

I blinked at him. “It’s nothing special! Just…,” I began, but by the time I’d composed myself enough to respond, cheeks aflame, he was already walking into the greenhouse, chuckling and waving at me before shutting the door.

I pushed a grocery cart while Jimin piled food items into the basket: breads, meats, packages of ramen and other processed food I didn’t even recognize. We rode through the aisles together, the fuzzy overhead speakers playing a song that was popular ten years ago. Few people were roaming the store in the middle of the day, the aisles sitting pristine before us as we turned down each one. Jimin paused in front of the cereal boxes, causing me to bump his hip with the shopping cart. I backed away and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” I said, glancing toward the cereal. “What’s wrong? We need to get back to the store soon.”

Jimin waved his hand at me. “Say, Nari what do you like? Like…food?” he asked.

I stiffened and pursed my lips. “I…wouldn’t really know.”

He sighed and nodded, still stewing over the cereal. “I wanna take good care of you so you can remember something more.”

My cheeks warmed and I smiled at my hands, clamping them around the cart a little tighter. “I’ll be fine regardless of which cereal you purchase, Jimin.”

He pouted slightly and nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled at me and grabbed a box before jerking his head toward the register.

The employee checked our items and stowed them neatly away, and we made our way out towards the exit. We only made it a few paces before a familiar, joyful voice called after us, “Hey!”

I turned towards the back of the store and noticed an older employee smacking the back of another employee’s head. Dark, untidy hair. Red patterned bandana. I smiled. Jungkook had gotten a job? I decided not to bother him while he worked and instead adjusted my hold on the groceries.

Jimin opened the door and held it for me to walk through, but as he did, he stepped back to walk beside me. Our steps were identical as we walked through the empty aisle. Every swaying step we took caused the backs of our hands to brush just slightly. Neither of us moved slightly to prevent it. Neither of us even looked at the other. But there was a strange shift occurring. I’d noticed it particularly in recent days. Jimin was becoming more and more comfortable touching me. Under normal circumstances, perhaps I’d have found it strange. But maybe I was too enamored. Maybe a part of me believed that if I allowed us to move closer…I could figure something out. Capture something elusive about those odd dreams which had been evading me. After all, it seemed we were intertwined somehow.

Or was I just giving myself an excuse to be greedy?

We walked back to the store, chatting idly, each of us holding two pager bags of groceries.The weather was fine and, for a brief moment, I was grateful to have a body to enjoy it with. I felt my senses were rather acute, like my body was anticipating something. I glanced around, down towards the uneven pavement, up towards the bleached buildings, up towards Jimin’s grinning face. We neared the shop, the greenhouse catching sunlight and sending it off in prisms. My steps slowed and Jimin matched me subtly as something caught my eye on the ground. Glittering in the light, fractals of something sat at awkward angles. I could almost swear it was glass…

As we approached the steps up toward the apartment, I paused. Jimin was still engrossed in his story about a middle school soccer game, but my attention was seized. “Wait,” I said, holding my hand up and resting the groceries on the bottom step of the stairs.

Jimin stopped and stared down at me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head and walked, tentative, towards the front of the shop. Something was pooling in my stomach and I recognized it at once. I’d felt it the night I’d saved Jimin.

Dread.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared at the front of the shop. I’d been right, this fractals on the ground were shards of broken glass still falling onto the ground from the windowsill as the breeze knocked them around. It must have occurred rather recently, as the door stood swinging on its hinges. I took high, careful steps around them to avoid puncturing the toes left exposed by my sandals and held my hand up behind me as Jimin approached too quickly.

“Hold on,” I said, eyes set on the floor. “There’s glass.”

“What?” he asked, and I heard his steps rushing forward despite my warning. “Wait, why-,” he began, then stopped speaking as he noticed the broken window. “Oh my God.”

I nodded and wrapped my palm in my shirt, trying to preserve any residual DNA, twisting the door handle. “I’ll go look around-,”

“Absolutely not,” said Jimin, grabbing my shoulder and wheeling me backwards.

I stared up at him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head. “Nari, you could get hurt. What if someone’s still in there?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow and cocked my head. “Then I’ll be able to identify them.”

“Nari,” he said, tone stern and low. My heart raced. “I said you could get hurt.”

I shrugged. “If so, then that’s fine. I’d rather catch the culprit,” I said, then sighed at the damage in front of me. From what I could see in the store, numerous pots had been shoved from the shelves and the cash register had been forcefully pried open. Thank God I’d removed it that morning. “You’ve already been attacked. What will I do if that man isn’t caught?”

He stared down at me with smoldering eyes and a stiff jaw. “Nari, this isn’t something to take lightly. This is damage of property. Someone forced their way into the shop. They might have a weapon.”

I remembered what Yoongi said. If anyone else died, it was on my shoulders. After years of taking lives, why now did the thought of being responsible for someone’s death feel so serious?

I sighed and shook him off. “Jimin, does that matter?” I asked. “What if this is the only chance we get to catch him? To clear Jungkook’s name? To keep you safe?”

He leveled his gaze with mine and set his lips in a straight line. “If you go in there, I won’t forgive you.”

I swallowed hard, catching a hint of that earthy smell he had on the lazy breeze. I glanced away, back towards the ground, and chewed on the inside of my cheek. The day Hyungwon and I had fought, I was certain Jimin would hate me. I was certain that after everything he said, every request of his that I hadn’t heeded, he would surely cast me aside. But he’d forgiven me. Surprisingly easily, at that.

But this time…he wouldn’t. I could see it in his eyes. Normally lustrous and bright, now the endless brown of his eyes seemed dark, troubled, serious. I blinked at him before taking a step back, away from the shop’s front door. I sighed and crossed my arms, shaking his hand off my shoulder, and walked towards the steps beside the shop, sitting down beside the groceries we’d left behind.

Quietly, Jimin approached and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. He typed a number and pressed it against his ear without looking at me. He was silhouetted beautifully against the radiant sun, and normally I’d have admired it for a moment. But I was frustrated. Frustrated with him.

Just like that day with Hyungwon, it felt suffocatingly familiar.

I rested my head against the railing and sat with crossed arms as Jimin began speaking. “Hey. Someone broke into the shop. I don’t know when, but…,” he paused and listened quietly, voice terse. “Yeah. I’m not comfortable having Nari here, so could she maybe…yeah, that’d be good.”

My eyes snapped towards him and I furrowed my brows. He avoided my gaze. “Jimin,” I said, loud enough for the person on the other end to hear.

He cleared his throat. “Alright. We’ll wait here for you…five minutes? Okay.” He hung up the phone and slid it into his back pocket, coming around to sit beside me on the stairs.

I edged away and leaned against the railing once more. “Sending me away?” I asked.

“It’s safer.”

“I sincerely dislike when you decide things like this for me,” I said, staring out at the stone wall separating the street from the cliff face. “It infuriates me.”

He sighed. “It’s because you are totally incapable of making normal decisions,” he said.

I scoffed and angled my body away from his. “I am making perfectly rational decisions,” I said, then shrugged. “Seems you prefer to choose emotionally.”

“Do you just, like…not value your life? Or what?” he asked, clearly getting riled up.

I watched a car zoom past and rolled my eyes, although I wasn’t sure when I’d learned to do that. “Nothing would have happened, and if it did that would have helped your case,” I said. “Now the perpetrator is long gone from here. No chance of catching him now.”

Jimin laughed, but it was bitter. “Alright, so it’s my fault for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Yes,” I said. “What value do I have if not to help you?” I asked, then shook my head. I’d said too much.

He huffed. “That’s insane. If you really think that way, then it makes me very uncomfortable,” he said, staring at me with heavy eyes.

I met his gaze and furrowed my brow. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” I said, surprised at the bite in my own words.

He raised a brow. “I don’t? Then explain it.”

How could I? How could I tell him that the only reason I was human was because of him? “Forget it. Just…ignore me,” I said, settling once more against the railing. “This conversation is meaningless.”

“Do you really like me that much?” he asked, a cruel laugh escaping him. “You hardly know me. Please get a handle on your feelings.”

I felt my throat tighten. I tried to remember a time in the years I’d watched over him when he’d said something so unkind. Nothing came to mind. Did he really think all that? Did he truly want me to collect my emotions and settle them somewhere else? After asking me to trust him, after touching me and smiling at me and making himself dear to me? Was that really fair? I glanced at him and saw his gaze was locked far away.

“If that’s what you want,” I said, nodding. I watched two police vehicles slow to a stop on the side of the road and stood to my feet, walking towards them.

Jimin sighed and I turned to watch him kick a bag of groceries harshly, scattering the contents across the cement. I shook my head and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. Namjoon exited the first car while the second one idled. I stiffened as his penetrating eyes landed on me. Was he perhaps still upset with me? Had he not had enough time to cool down? My heart pounded.

Slowly, he offered a small, dimpled smile which set my nerves at ease slightly. I sighed and retuned the gesture. “Hello,” I said.

He bowed his head. “Hi,” he said, then examined the damage over my shoulder. “God…I’m sorry you’ve been through all of this.”

I shrugged as Jimin stood beside me. “I suppose I’m only involved by proxy,” I said with a dismissive shrug. “I shouldn’t be especially bothered, should I?”

Jimin groaned. “Nari!” he exclaimed beside me.

I met his eyes and shrugged. “It’s true isn’t it? They’re your problems after all,” I said, returning my attention to Namjoon. “What should I do? Jimin’s sending me off somewhere, right?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yoongi is waiting in the other patrol car. Please go with him to the station,” he said, smiling at me.

I sighed and felt my shoulders fall. “I think I would prefer the crime scene,” I mumbled, but as I turned to look at Jimin I found his brows lowered and his gaze sturdy, irritated. I swallowed and bowed my head to him. “I’ll be going then.”

I stepped away towards the second patrol car and opened the door. Yoongi stared straight ahead, not so much as making eye contact with me. I settled beside him and latched my seatbelt. “Are you not assisting Namjoon in this investigation?”

Yoongi bristled and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “He thought it would be better to keep me and Jimin apart for a little while.”

I chuckled as he started the engine. “I suppose that’s best.”

“And you?” he asked with a smirk and a sly glance my way. “You’re being exiled too.”

I stiffened and leaned back in the seat, watching the road before us as it stretched along the cliffside. “Just drive.”

Yoongi had a surprisingly gentle expression while he worked. I sat opposite him at his unruly desk, reclining against the stiff chair he’d given me as he shuffled through papers. Occasionally, a sigh would escape him or he’d work a hand over his jaw. Watching him that way mad a thin sliver of guilt course through me. Of course he was rough and caustic, but I wondered if perhaps he had a reason to be. I wondered if I’d been to quick to write him off. Perhaps, just like Jungkook who looked rather harsh, he was soft inside. Maybe he was like Hyungwon: scaly exterior revealing an innocent heart. I watched him carefully. His eyes stayed steadfast on his papers, scanning then, and now and then his dark hair would slip onto his eyelid and he’d flick it away with a huff and a pout.

Half an hour passed before he spoke.

“Can you stop staring at me?” he asked quietly.

I continued observing his fine motions as he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What else am I meant to do?”

He sighed and sat upright, folding his arms across his chest. “Why did Jimin send you away?” he asked. “Aren’t you his pet or whatever?”

Indignation rose in my chest and I sat straighter. “I am not,” I said, remembering Jimin’s words. He wanted me to sort out my feelings after all. “I wanted to investigate the shop in case the person responsible was still inside, but he opposed.”

He chuckled. “You sure you’re not his pet?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to retort, but simply sighed and shrugged. I’d grown tired of fighting. “I think I’m worse than a pet,” I said, shaking my head. “Even Miso makes her own choices.”

Yoongi raised a brow. The air between us was different than before, perhaps less acidic. I wondered what could have caused such a shift as he smiled softly and arranged his papers. “Well…for what it’s worth, I think you had the right idea.”

I nodded. “It’s only rational.”

“I agree.”

“And if I got hurt, then at least he would have been caught,” I said. “We gave him every opportunity to get away, and then afforded him extra time for cleanup.”

“It was a critical time period that could have been used to further the investigation,” said Yoongi with a nod as he set the documents aside and laced his fingers, resting his chin atop them as he examined me. “I’m surprised we think alike for once.”

I set my lips thin and glanced away towards the wall beside me. “Perhaps we think alike in more ways than we know,” I said with a shrug.

He chuckled. “You never know.”

“Do you have any hypotheses about who could have done it?” I asked.

He shrugged and leaned back in his cushioned chair. “Well, it’s most likely the same man who stabbed Jimin in the first place. He’s a target now.”

I furrowed my brow. “It seems likely but…,” I began then sighed. “But the reasoning seems strange. You’re watching for him very closely. Why would he make such dangerous moves just for one victim that escaped?”

“Seems like a rookie move,” he said with a nod. “It’s weird.”

“Do you still think it’s Jungkook?” I asked quietly, watching his expression fall slightly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Truth be told…well, what you said the other day kind of messed with me. Am I looking at this case objectively or am I trying to force the pieces to fit my own narrative? For my ego?”

I raised my brows. “You thought about it?”

He scoffed. “Am I an idiot?” he asked, sighing and averting his eyes. “Of course I thought about it. You had a point anyway.”

I smiled. Humans were pretty charming. “Well I’m glad you’re moving on to other suspects.”

He glanced up at me. “We haven’t yet though,” he said. “And especially after today. Intimidation is usually associated with gang activity. And with the crowd Jungkook runs in-,”

“It wasn’t him,” I said. “This time I’m certain. Jungkook was working.”

Yoongi raised his brows. “Working?”

I nodded. “At the supermarket.”

Yoongi laughed. “He tried to rob the owner and now he’s working there?” he asked, smiling to himself. “That kid…”

“So he has an alibi.”

Yoongi shifted forward to look at me. “Or it’s more elaborate than that,” he said, smirking. “Maybe they did it during his shift to take the heat off of Jungkook’s back.”

I stiffened. “I…I don’t think so,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Hyungwon and Taehyung came with Jungkook to the shop yesterday evening. They were nothing but cordial. Apologetic even.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly. “All I’m saying is that it’s possible this is more complex than we think,” he said.

I nodded. “On that, we agree.”

He smiled, almost mischievous, and glanced at me. “That’s twice today.”

I shrugged. “Please don’t read too much into it.”

He nodded. “Well…I guess you’ve been kinda helpful,” he said with a sigh. He crossed his legs and rested his hand atop his knee. “Talking with you gave me some new ideas.”

I pursed my lips. Again, nobody was in the facility. I supposed in such a small town the police force wasn’t all that large. Distantly, I heard the hum of chatter, perhaps coming from one of the private offices. But in that dim, cold room I couldn’t help but feel slightly sympathetic towards Yoongi. How often was he alone here? “Do you not have anyone else to talk with about the case?”

He shook his head. “Joon’s giving me the cold shoulder lately,” he said, then laughed. “Nobody else in the office likes me all that much, so they’re not options.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Hm?” he asked, eyes round, almost doe-like.

I swallowed and glanced away, disarmed. “Well…you should maintain healthy interpersonal relationships if you intend to live a healthy life.”

He laughed. “Weird way to say I’m antisocial, but…”

I met his eyes and sighed. “You’re not so bad like this,” I said. “If you could show this face to the others…I’m sure they’d like you.”

His high cheeks went slightly pink and he cleared his throat. “Well…anyway, thanks for talking it out with me. You’re…you’re not that bad either, Jane Doe.”

I blinked. “What exactly is this?” I asked, pointing between us. “Are we friends now?”

He sputtered a laugh and leaned into his chair, tilting his head back as he continued laughing. “Where did that come from?” he asked.

I shrugged and pointed at him again. “You were being warmer to me! I only assumed naturally based on the conversation and atmosphere-,”

“Acquaintances,” he said, nodding. He smiled at me. “Acquaintances until we don’t benefit each other anymore.”

I blinked. “Rather…pragmatic.”

He nodded. “Gotta be in life,” he said. “Anyway, you want some coffee? I’ve got some in the back.”

I cringed at the memory of that bitter drink and shook my head. “No thank you.”

He chuckled. “We’ve got some snacks too. How about you come take a look and see if you want anything,” he offered, standing and gesturing towards the break room in the back of the office room.

I followed suit. As I stood to my feet and dusted off my pants, Yoongi turned to me and, with a smirk, added, “Please don’t read too much into it.”

Yoongi offered me a copy of a novel Namjoon had loaned him, Demian, to read while he worked. We sat quietly opposite one another, neither one intruding on the other’s private time. A half-empty cup of sweet orange juice sat in front of me as I reclined against the chair, letting my mind wander as I read the story, scanning the pages easily as a comfortable silence enveloped us. Every now and again, Yoongi would make a sound that would rouse my attention, causing me to move only my eyes to inspect him. Every time, I found him in the same position: gaze downcast, tabbing through papers or typing at the computer, elbows resting firmly on the desk. It was as if his body was making the noises without his knowledge. Little coughs here and there, exhalations that sounded like sighs. I wondered how much stress he was under.

Again, guilt descended upon me. Was I doing the right thing opposing him so steadfastly? Was I defending Jimin by opposing him? Or was I simply being cruel? I was learning every day that the world was not as binary as I used to think. Right and wrong, sympathy and apathy, one side and the other. It seemed everything was separated not by uncrossable roads but thin, transparent, fading lines. My eyes fell again upon the worn pages of Namjoon’s book as Sinclair spoke about the painting of the woman.

“We’re back,” called a voice from the entrance.

I snapped upright and glanced towards the source. Nearly two hours had passed, with noon turning to midday without my notice. Namjoon sighed and removed his light jacket, setting it atop his desk as Jimin followed behind with crossed arms. I watched him, gauging his expression for any sign of regret or apology.

None was present.

I crossed my legs and returned to my book, sparing Namjoon a soft smile as he approached. “Did you find him?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately no,” he said. “Looks like he fled the scene pretty quickly after breaking in. He tried to rob the register and then ran on foot out the back through the workroom.”

I nodded. “Do you have a timeframe for the incident?” I asked.

Namjoon settled in the seat beside me as Jimin lingered to the side, avoiding looking at Yoongi who was avoiding looking at him. “Probably fifteen to twenty minutes before we got there.”

I hummed. “Pretty quick,” I remarked, then met Jimin’s eyes from my seat below him. “I can’t help but feel like I could’ve done more. Since it happened so shortly before we arrived.”

Jimin inhaled as if to speak, but Namjoon beat him to it. “We wouldn’t want you risking getting hurt just to find this guy,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “If it really is the killer, he’s already hurt enough people.”

I shrugged. “Might’ve helped the investigation at least if I’d gone inside.”

“I agree,” said Yoongi. “Who cares about personal injury when a killer is walking around?” he asked. “Seems like Nari is thinking seriously about all of this.”

“Enough,” said Jimin, sharp eyes scanning me. “Nari wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. Being brave and being careless are different.”

I glanced at Namjoon who shifted uncomfortably in his seat with a sigh. “Anyway, do you have any leads?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Since Jimin doesn’t keep cameras in the shop, there’s not a lot to go on.”

“Hm,” I said, sipping my orange juice. “I like this book, Namjoon.”

He glanced at the novel in my hands and grinned. “Oh yeah? Yoongi let you borrow it?” he asked, then chuckled. “It’s a good read.”

I smiled and handed it to him. “I like that line — what was it?” I began, flipping through the files of memories in my mind until I landed upon it. “If a person is afraid of someone, it’s because he has allowed that someone to acquire power over him.”

Namjoon’s brows raised. “Funny, I liked that line too,” he said.

I peered up at Jimin as he sighed and crossed his arms. “Nari, we should leave. I’m booking you a hotel room.”

I stood up and scoffed. “When was I going to be informed of this?”

“Just now,” he said, jerking his head towards the exit. “Let’s go. It’s right down the street. I’ll walk with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “No. If you’re going to make me stay someplace, then I may as well stay here,” I said, turning towards Yoongi who watched us bicker with a sly smile. “You operate during the night, right?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sure do.”

“Nari!” shouted Jimin, setting his jaw firmly. “Let’s go.”

I huffed. “If you continue to insist on being my benefactor, then I have no choice but to refuse!”

“What’s wrong with that? I’m just trying to take care of you since you don’t have anyone else to do it! You seem pretty damn ungrateful to the person who’s been taking responsibility for you,” he said, shaking his head.

I nodded. “Responsibility?” I asked, all anger fleeing from my body, replaced with something far worse. Hurt.

He raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t deal with you right now. Meet me outside or don’t,” he said, waving his hands before turning on his heel and storming out the front door.

I stared after him before sighing and rubbing my forehead. “I’ll go then,” I said.

Yoongi laughed. “After all that?” he asked.

I smiled softly and shrugged. “I never intended to be obstinate until the end,” I said. “I just…I want him to understand me.”

“He’s having a hard time,” said Namjoon gently from below, giving me a smile. Although there was still something odd between us, uncomfortable.

I glanced away. “I know. I will try to be softer with him,” I said, then smiled at Namjoon. “May I come back sometime to finish the book?”

His back went straight and he nodded quickly. “Anytime you want.”

I nodded. “Thank you for keeping me company, Yoongi,” I said, waving at the dark-haired man as he chuckled my way, tossing a lazy hand in the air in response.

I walked outside to find Jimin leaning against the front of the police station, kicking dirt on the ground. It seemed there was still something irreconcilably different about the two of us. Despite promising to figure things out together, I was beginning to wonder if we could. We were both too stubborn, perhaps. I was used to being alone and making my own decisions, so his well-meaning care felt like an imposition. Likewise, Jimin was likely used to caring for himself so caring for another person could be difficult.

And besides, I was nothing more than a responsibility. An obligation.

I was a burden to the one person I valued above anyone else.

He lifted his heavy gaze to meet mine and sighed. “Why fight if you’re gonna do it anyway?” he asked.

I said nothing and simply stood at his side. “If you’ll tell me where the hotel is, I can go alone,” I said, avoiding meeting his eyes.

He groaned and threw his head back. “Jesus Christ, Nari. Enough of the drama!” he said, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “I’m looking out for you.”

“I understand,” I said, nodding. “Now if you’ll just tell me where it is-,”

“God damnit!” he shouted, shoving his hair off his forehead before taking my hand in his and wheeling me down the street.

I struggled against his grip. “No! Jimin, no! I can go alone!” I yelled, writhing backwards.

He was stronger than me, however, and easily overpowered me. He walked ahead, clasping my hand so tightly the blood rushed out of it, and led the way down the sidewalk. After a few moments of protesting, I sighed and simply walked behind him, watching the ground as my feet slapped against it. There was a heavy silence, the kind that you can feel, and I jammed my free hand in the pocket of my slacks.

The hotel came into view at the end of the block and I was thankful for the rather short walk. But my legs were tired from keeping up with his ruthless pace, so once we entered the lavish lobby and Jimin released my hand to speak with the receptionist, I gave my thighs a quick squeeze before massaging my wrist. He’d been too rough — not rough enough to hurt me, but rough enough to make me sad. He’d mentioned that he was scary when he was angry, but I never imagined that anger would be turned on me.

Perhaps I really was a heavy burden.

He turned back to me and, without looking at me, took my hand once more. His grip was softer this time, more yielding. I walked beside him with furrowed brows, watching his face as he stared ahead. He didn’t even spare me a single glance, simply pushing the call button for the gilded elevator and leading us inside silently. He pressed the button for my floor and released my hand to fold his arms over his chest, brow heavy and eyes dark.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. Not for stubbornness or hurt, but rather because I’d lost the confidence to speak comfortably with him. How long had he been seeing me as a responsibility? How much of what he’d done for me had been done out of obligation? How much had I asked of him without even knowing it? The fact alone that he wished for me to settle my emotions for him was telling enough…

We arrived at the tenth floor and he walked out first, leaving me again to follow. This time, however, I didn’t fight. I simply walked a few paces behind him in silence and when he slid the electronic key through the reader in one of the doors and swung it open, I walked inside after him. He placed the plastic key card on the table in front of the big bed and turned to me, meeting my eyes for the first time since we entered the hotel.

“You’ll stay here until I get the shop cleaned up,” he said.

I swallowed and glanced away, towards the wide windows behind his back overlooking the endless ocean. “I can just…go stay at the police station instead,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

He stiffened and stared at me. “What?” he asked.

My throat felt tight. “I never considered the position I’d been putting you in all this time. I feel like I may have overstayed my welcome and expected too much from you,” I said with a nod.

He sighed. “Is this because of what I sat outside the shop? About sorting out your feelings?” he asked.

I shook my head and met his eyes. “It’s not just that,” I said, forcing a smile. “Of all the people in the world…you’re the last one I want to burden.”

His expression softened as he looked at me, his brows now knitting. “Nari…,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said with a smile. “Really. We can still…help each other. But I think I was expecting too much.”

“Stop it,” he said, voice gentle as he walked closer. “You know I say stupid shit when I’m mad.”

I nodded. “But even if you don’t realize it, those might be your real thoughts,” I said. “And you have every right to have them.”

“It’s not that, Nari.”

“Back when Hyungwon tried to hit you, you said something similar,” I said softly, wringing my hands. So much guilt was weighing on my shoulders lately. “You said I’d caused you a lot of trouble.”

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he said. “It slipped out because I was mad.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you-,”

“Nari!” he shouted, placing both hands on my face, causing me to meet his eyes. As I did, I felt tears brimming over my eyelids and falling onto my hot cheeks. He wiped them away carefully, smoothing his fingers over my skin. “Do you know how worried I was about you?”

I swallowed my tears, but they kept falling. “What?”

He stepped closer and I stepped back. “Back then and today too. I’m so worried about you, every day,” he said, eyes scanning my face as he set his jaw. “You care so much about me that you’re always putting yourself in dangerous situations. Someday, you’re really gonna get hurt because of me.”

I shook my head. “I told you there’s no other reason for me to be here,” I said. “If I’m not protecting you, then it’s all useless.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said gently, thumb rubbing softly against my cheek. Unconsciously, I leaned into his touch. “There’s so much that I don’t understand, Nari. But…more than anything I don’t understand why, from the start, I feel this way about you.”

I stiffened and took another small step backwards, countering his forward step. “What are you talking about?”

“Why does the thought of you getting hurt make me so angry? From the very beginning, I couldn’t stand it,” he said. “I don’t care if you hate me, but you can’t get hurt.”

My skin felt hot, especially so beneath his gentle fingers. “I-,”

He took another step, forcing me back against the hotel door. My eyes widened as I stared up at him. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were tender, warm. “You don’t cause trouble for me,” he said. “But having you around makes me so confused. Because every day I care about you more and I don’t understand how.”

“What?”

“I’ve spent my whole life being careful of people,” he said, the puff of breath from his sigh brushing my hair off my forehead. “It’s…it’s so scary to let people close, you know? They could leave so suddenly and then what?” he said, shaking his head. “So I take my time. Always.”

I blinked. “You have so many friends.”

He chuckled, eyes dropping. “That’s not the same,” he said. “You’re the only one who’s seen me like this. You’re the only one who makes me so mad.”

“That’s a bad thing,” I whispered, more tears spilling.

He shook his head and wiped them away. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice breaking. “I shouldn’t care about you this much. We hardly know each other and still…you’re shaking me up every day.”

My heart fluttered and my stomach felt light, as if I’d fallen from a great height. I balled my hands into fists and scanned his features. “Jimin, what are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he said, moving his face closer to mine. I could see every detail in his eyes, every long dark eyelash. “But you’re not a burden. It’s not you who needs to sort out your feelings. It’s me.”

I swallowed something tight in my throat and watched him carefully as his hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me in place. “I…I think you’re confused,” I said, but my words were weak like my resolve. I could feel my knees shaking at his proximity. Every centimeter between us was charged, and I was hyperaware of his chest heaving so close to mine.

“Then let me try to clear it up,” he said, nodding at me with worried eyes, as if asking permission.

I could say nothing more. It took everything I had within me to stand erect without falling. He was frustratingly handsome, even up close. Since when had I found him so beautiful? The delicate curve of his lips, the smooth rosiness in his full cheeks, the softness of his hands on my skin. It was inexplicable. And as he moved closer, I didn’t turn away. I was not naive. I knew what he was doing to clear up his emotions. I knew what was coming, even before his lips touched mine.

But when they did, I could no longer keep my eyes open and my hands, holding all the tension in my body, released against my thighs. His lips were soft and gentle against mine, almost pleading, and very warm. I felt his nose brush against my cheek and flush as he eased my lips apart. I didn’t protest. I didn’t want to. The sensation of it was not only intoxicating, it was…familiar.

He took my lower lip between his own, eliciting a gasp from me that made his grip on my neck tighten. Without meaning to, my hands found their way to his wrists, holding tightly to his forearms until one slipped down to my waist, pulling my body flush against his. I was feeling hot, and as he embraced me I felt even hotter. My stomach did flips and my heart was pounding loudly in my ears. He pulled away and unwittingly I followed, only to crash his lips against mine again, forcing me back against the door once more. His hand roamed my lower back and my own raised to clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. I ran a hand through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead as I’d watched him do countless times. He sighed against my lips and chills ran up my spine.

“Nari,” he whispered against me, pulling back once more and opening his eyes. “I…”

I blinked up at him, my face flushed and my hands starting to shake. My knees felt unsteady and I had to hold onto his shoulders to remain standing. As I took in his unruly hair, his reddened lips, and his tender eyes my vision began to blur, darkness encroaching from the sides. I began to feel lightheaded. Was this what happened when humans kissed? Was that why they wrote so many songs about it? He scanned my features, eyes hooded as if he may kiss me again. But as he leaned in once more, the darkness overtook my vision and the last thing I felt was my body collapsing against his.

And the last thing I heard was Jimin’s panicked voice calling, “Nari!”

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bubblegumwitchswriting · 6 years ago

Text

House of M Au - Roses Pt. 3

. Falling . Roses Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt. 3

Pairing: Billy/Teddy

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190091/chapters/36621672

"Okay" Kate said, throwing herself down into the chair opposite Teddy with a huge grin. "Tell me I'm awesome. Because I'm awesome."

"You're awesome," Teddy agreed. "But what specifically did you do this time?"

Kate looked at him for a second, apparently trying to decode whether or not there had been any sarcasm there. Not finding any she leant forward and grinned.

"Just call me your fairy godmother," she said with a grin. "Because Theodore Altman you shall go to the ball!"

With an expansive gesture she brought out a ticket from inside her coat pocket. It was on thick card, the writing glinting the dim light of the coffee shop.

"It's mine," Kate clarified. "But you know I'd never actually read one of these before. Barely even looked at it, just turned up whenever my dad told me to go. But this entitles me to a plus one. So I no longer have to be bored at these events and you get to stare at Prince Charming all night. Isn't that great?"

Teddy hadn't even had time to bring up the possibility of Kate keeping an eye on Billy before Kate had fixed the problem. Nonetheless conversation with Thomas still weighed heavily on his mind. Kate had probably been right before about not getting involved. And clearly his preoccupation with Billy was starting to be noticeable. Should he really be turning up to the palace to a party and drawing even more attention. Should he really be dragging Kate along for the ride?

"You don't look thrilled," Kate observed.

"No," Teddy said quickly. "No, I am. It's just -"

He trailed off. Shrugged.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"You'll have to figure that out on your own," Kate said. "I left my dress making wand at home."

"What time-?"

"Three hours," Kate said cheerfully. "You're lucky I managed to get past Susan. She thinks that five hours isn't long enough to prepare and is trying to instil the same virtues in me."

Kate rolled her eyes, standing.

"Saying that I should probably get back before her or Dad send out a search party. I'll pick you up. Have fun finding a suit."

Kate drove a purple car and she drove it herself, no chauffeur involved. She came to a sudden halt outside Teddy’s house and waved at him cheerfully. Teddy got in the car with some trepidation.

"Dad and Susan said I should ride with them but honestly I'd rather die than listen to Susan's celebrity gossip for one minute longer. She's obsessed with the palace."

Kate paused, turned to grin at Teddy for a fraction to long and had to correct her position in the road by swerving wildly which sent Teddy slamming into the side of the car.

"You and Susan would get on," Kate continued, as though nothing had happened. "She can hook you up with all the rumours."

"Kate that's a red light," Teddy said in lieu of dignifying her comment with a response.

"I know," Kate said beatifically and true to her word did stop, though slightly more abruptly than Teddy would have liked. She drummed lightly on the steering wheel as she waited for an elderly lady and an even more elderly dog to cross at the lights.

"So what's the latest from the palace?" Kate asked. "Is Prince Charming still charming?"

Did he tell her?

"He's forgotten who I am," Teddy answered, settling for a half truth.

"Royals," Kate said sounding utterly unsurprised. "Maybe you should have left him bleeding in the alleyway am I right?"

Teddy picked an imaginary piece of dust off the side of the dashboard. Kate, who spent far too much time watching him when she was supposed to be driving, picked up on that.

"Seriously?" she said. "You're seriously still crushing on someone who is paying you back for basically saving their life by forgetting you? Come on Altman. He's cute but he's not that cute."

Teddy didn’t answer. He’d found a second piece of dust.

"Teddy?"

He bit back the urge to defend Billy, to explain that it wasn't his fault, that there was something wrong, that Billy had been made to forget.

The seatbelt seemed to be cutting into his chest. They were getting closer to the castle now which meant their pace was slower as they joined a line of shining cars and limos as they queued up at the gates, waving invitations, smiling snobbishly at passers by and craning their necks as each new car was appraised in case this car was an interloper and would be thrown out.

"It's an awful crowd," Kate said. "Why I'm glad you're along for this one even if I'm enabling your Prince fantasies."

Teddy was staring at the guards.

"You've gone pale," Kate said. "What's going on? These people are all here to suck up to the royal family which probably makes them some kind of monster, but they aren't going to bite."

Attempts to rouse him with questionable humour failing, Kate punched him in the arm. Being Kate the gesture was accidentally slightly too hard.

"Teddy?"

In the palace the guards were imposing enough, but tonight they wore ceremonial uniforms. The finery made them look like pantomime people and he almost would have had trouble accepting them as real if it hadn't been for the very tangible weapons hung from their belts. Kate had said not to interfere from the beginning and she was usually right.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Teddy said.

"It's just a party," Kate said. "Super fancy one sure, and most of the guests are boring as hell or pure evil but the canapes are good."

She frowned.

"What's really bothering you?"

"You know how you told me not to get involved in whatever was going on in the palace?"

She sighed very heavily.

"Theodore Altman what have you done?"

Teddy would have replied, would have told her but they had somehow made their way to the front of the queue and the guards were waving Kate forward. One came to her window, one came to his. Kate showed them her invitation. Teddy tried very hard not to sink down into his seat as the guards questioning gaze landed on him. His suit, left over and forgotten after a family wedding the previous year dug out of a wardrobe and hastily ironed, felt uncomfortable. He was a fake. They'd see right through him, they'd see the gardener. They'd know he was interfering.

The guard at his window leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. Teddy swallowed.

"Parking round to the left," Kate's guard said.

Kate waited until they were round to the left before rounding on Teddy.

"Spill."

"If I tell you, it could get you in trouble too."

Kate gave him a look.

"If you are stopping me from getting involved in foiling a royal family assassination plot I'm going to be mad."

"You said -"

Kate waved a hand and pulled effortlessly into the dead centre of a space the first time and one handed.

"That was before you got involved. Now you clearly are involved you better be involving me too. Should I have brought weapons? Would a bow be too obvious?"

She was smirking.

"For sure," Teddy said, choosing to take her seriously. "I'm trying not to be noticed."

He told her briefly about Billy not recognising him, the guard and his conversation with Prince Thomas.

"In-ter-esting," Kate said, dragging out the word and savouring it.

She turned and gave Teddy a huge, slightly worrying, grin.

"Alright," she said cheerfully. "Let's go save Prince Charming."

"Please stop calling him that," Teddy said. "Because I'm concerned you're going to forget and call him that to his face."

"And what's he going to do?" Kate said, but she sarcastically mimed zipping her lips shut at an exasperated look from Teddy.

They were directed up a set of steps, through a corridor and into a ballroom, attended to the entire way by blandly pleasant servants, waiters and other staff in pristine outfits. Kate responded with weary resignation, allowing them to take her coat, grabbing a drink. Teddy just felt flustered. He'd seen one or two of these people around the palace and though he had no idea of their names and he doubted they knew his he still half-expected them to yell fake, to point out this wasn't his scene.

This really wasn't his scene.

The only two events he had been to that could be classed as parties were the family wedding and Kate's last birthday. The family wedding hadn't been too over the top, and Kate was Kate so her birthday, though funded entirely by her billionaire father, was still grounded in some semblance of reality.

The House of M were not grounded in the same reality as Teddy.

The ballroom itself was elaborate with marble pillars and a floor that shone like glass and reflected the lights from the enormous chandeliers high above them. The decorations were something else: one wall had a waterfall for no apparent reason other than they could. Full size trees in pots lining the edges of the room. A bank of doors opened out onto the lawns where Teddy had been working only the day before. Peacocks wandered up and down the neat grass, and occasionally pecked the lawn and beds to death.

And everywhere there were flowers, huge displays falling in curtains, dripping out of stone urns: peonies, lilies, orchids, carnations and snapdragons. Roses.

Teddy glanced around the hall. It was already half-full with people all in masks. Teddy stopped glancing around the hall and glanced at Kate.

"Did I mention it was a masquerade?" she asked.

Teddy gave her a look of frustration.

"Yeah thought as much," Kate said. "Luckily for you I remembered that I'd probably forgotten and -"

She reached into her bag, eventually retrieved two simple silk masks.

"Ta-dah!"

"Admittedly," she added as she tied hers, "it looks slightly like we're planning on robbing a bank after this, but I didn't have a whole lot of time."

The mask only really covered the area around his eyes, but Teddy still felt slightly better for having it. Kate wanted to dance so he let her lead him onto the dance floor, joining the colourful guests and the entertainers who walked on stilts performing small feats of colourful magic.

Teddy glanced around.

"Prince Charming not here yet?" Kate asked sympathetically.

"It's not that -" Teddy said. "Kate how do you get invited to these? You're human?"

Kate shrugged.

"Daddy's rich. Politics?"

"Magneto's politics are that humans are the worst."

Kate shook her head and gave a lopsided shrug.

"Look I try not to question it."

That didn't sound like Kate.

"Unless the pitchforks come out," she continued, "Can you please just concentrate on one drama at a time? And look perfect timing there's Prince Dreamy. Stare at him."

Teddy spared half a glance in the direction Kate had gestured, intending it only to be that much to prove Kate wrong and shut her up. He ended up getting caught though because Billy looked so different, both from their first meeting and their subsequent meetings when he'd been so far away he might as well have been on another planet. He had his cloak back on and he played with the fabric with one hand, distractedly as his mother spoke to an ambassador.

He looked more with it than he'd seemed in the garden, but not at all like he had their first meeting either. When his gaze swept the room there wasn't much life in it, but then he seemed to stop at Teddy just for a millisecond and he smiled. Teddy's heart stopped. There were hundreds of people in the room. Billy wasn't looking directly at him. Billy had no idea who he was. It was a coincidence that's all.

"So mission save Prince Charming is a go!" Kate said next to him.

Teddy hushed her, but he was smiling. He told himself it was at Kate's sense of humour, rather than a response to Billy smiling but he also knew he was a liar.

#Teddy altman #billy kaplan #Billy/Teddy #roses #young avengers

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woodrokiro · 7 years ago

Text

Flowers/Meanings (Fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Ichigo doesn’t really care about flowers, but he needs a job and this lady cares way too much about them but he needs the money. He guesses. Florist AU for IchiRuki Month.

"Are you looking for a bouquet for someone in particular?"

He startles, drops the flower he was idly inspecting on the ground. A woman not much older than him arches an eyebrow, arms crossed over a petite frame. He resists a strange, innate instinct to do the same.

"Oh... No. Well, maybe my little sister for later--"

"Then I wouldn't pick white lilies. They represent virginity... Unless you have a strange relationship with your sister."

He clenches his teeth. He needs to get this one, short women be damned. "Right. Cool, thanks. Actually I was hoping--there's a notice on your window saying you're hiring--"

"So you were lying about shopping for your incestual relationship."

"No, I was and that's a really weird joke to make can you just--" he stops. Breathes. Grinds said clenched teeth. "I'd really like to give you my resume and ask for an interview."

She looks him up and down with a murderously skeptical eye. "You know about flowers? The guy who was eyeing white lilies--"

"Get off of that! No, look I guess I don't. But flowers are... I mean they're pretty and I work hard and learn fast--"

"They're pretty?"

That's what I just said, he thinks, but instead he says: "Yeah, that's kind of the point, right?"

She purses her lips, scuffs her little shoe into the ground repeatedly and it's sunny but Ichigo feels a storm coming. "No. No that's not the point. Flowers aren't just pretty, they've been used for humanity for hundreds of years. Most are the few plants that haven't been used for sole survival needs--dietary or medical--but just for the simple joy of looking at them. And we've assigned meaning to each of them: joy, loss, love. Doesn't that mean something to you? Is that incredible or are you just another man thinking he can shove a bundle of flowers under a woman's nose to make her forgive all the wrongs he has done? That this traditionally feminine work is something 'easy' for you and so therefore, why not? Please. I don't have time for lying children." She eyes him for what feels like a stony eternity before turning her heel and scoffing and he just thinks fuck this.

"You know what? I don't know shit about flowers. Frankly, I don't know that I care, yet." She doesn't turn to meet his eyes, but she does stop and really heats him up more, the deigning to not even look him in the eye while he's talking. "I just know that my family has a small town clinic, they're doing okay but my dad's getting older and he's trying to afford my college and I know he can barely do that and my sisters are about to enter university too and I know for a fact he can't handle three tuitions and I've looked all over the goddamn town for a job and none of them want me because of my hair which is stupid because its genetic but whatever bigots are bigots and I need a job and frankly I don't care for that 'flowers are girly shit' because they're just plants and the patriarchy is a pile of shit and I'll kick anyone's ass who makes fun of you for hiring me and--"

"What's your major?"

He blinks, notices in his rant that she's turned her head to look at him, how intensely violet her eyes are.

"Uh... What?"

"You're going to college. What are you studying there, fool?"

He debates for a moment whether he really wants to tell her, now that he's nearly positive he's not getting the job and also who uses the word "fool" anymore? "Um. Language. I'm a creative writing emphasis."

"Then you should be able to learn metaphors. Good enough. Be here to start at 8 am Monday."

Before he can dazedly ask what the hell metaphors she's talking about, she walks away to the back of the shop and Ichigo suddenly understands he has a job.

--- "So... Freesia means 'innocence' and 'thoughtfulness.'”

"That's what the book I gave you says, right?"

".... Yeah..."

"Then that's what it means, fool."

"Yeah okay Miranda Priestly, calm down. I'm just not really understanding what the difference between that and like--" he wets his fingers, flips the pages of her flower bible rapidly and resists the urge to grin at her disgusted expression. "Here! Like, a daisy, which 'symbolizes innocence and purity' and ‘conveys loyal love.'"

"And?"

"Well, they're both innocence--"

"Do 'loyal love' and 'thoughtfulness' sound anything alike to you?"

He tries not to let it show he's working his brain. "In a way--."

"Fool. You don't understand and I won't elaborate until you do. You can work bows in the back again."

The joke's really on her, he internally grumbles as he throws down another red ribbon onto the work table, because if all else fails he is the goddamn king of making bows.

-- Rumor has it around town she graduated from some big league art school at the top of her class.

Then again, it came from Keigo, and Keigo gossips about everyone so Ichigo can take it or leave it.

He wants to leave it, but the way her hands delicately brushes dirt from petals, how she'll arrange flowers in such a fashion that is none other than stunning, how her hands will fold the parchment oh so delicately, oh so gently over her work like some kind of prayer for their long lasting--

It isn't really hard to imagine.

-- "So... Do you have a favorite flower?"

Her hands--always working, always fluttering--still for a moment before she scoffs, continuing to trim stems by his side. The new shipment came in today, and after talking quietly for what seemed like forever with the tattooed, red headed vendor rep (so it really isn't all that much of a woman's industry, after all), she had seemed rather distracted all day.

"All flowers have their own spirit, what makes them unique--"

"You've said that a hundred times over, Kuchiki. I'm asking a simple question: what's your favorite?"

"I don't have one, honestly." He thinks he hears a small chuckle after he rolls his eyes. They work in silence for a moment before she speaks again.

"How about this. Let's make this a lesson for you: what flower would represent me--"

"Iris," he says without much thought, thinking really of her eyes but the more he considers it the more he knows it to be true. "Purple," he adds as an unnecessary afterthought. Eloquence. Wisdom and Complimentary.

She doesn't respond, but he can tell she's secretly pleased.

-- The first time he sees her deal with flowers for a remembrance occasion is Inoue.

She comes in, bubbly as ever and he kisses her quickly on the lips in the front and really hopes the two women won't meet for some odd reason he can't pinpoint but no shit here she comes waltzing from the back and Inoue sticks out her arm pleased as punch, says I'm Ichigo's girlfriend nice to meet you and Ichigo winces but Rukia is?? Pleasant???

Not that she isn't ever unpleasant with any other person but him-- just remarkably professional that comes off as a bit arrogant. She will almost always make a sale, but Ichigo has noticed a sort of grimace on men's faces as they walk away with bouquets in their hand--as if they had hoped to just flirt with the pretty ()but icy flower lady and not at all purchase actual flowers.

But he breathes a little easier when he sees Rukia smile back, even laugh at Inoue's latest quirky dream story. She eventually asks if Inoue would be interested in taking home some flowers today and suddenly the mood changes as Inoue stalls with an "Actually..."

Ichigo doesn't know how he had dated this girl for six months and not known about Inoue's brother.

Suddenly she is unfurling her story like a napkin, fiddling with her hands as she tries to nonchalantly mention it's the anniversary of her brother's passing, and she's just been so busy with work and school and friends that she hasn't... Well. She hasn't been to his grave since last year, which is so embarrassing because he was really just the kindest and most caring person she knew, in fact he was the reason she was who she was and she hopes he doesn't think she forgot about him--

Rukia squeezes her hand before going to the back, leaving Ichigo alone with this girl he realizes he's never known.

When she comes back after what seems like forever, she's got a bouquet in her hand.

"I think your brother might really enjoy these," she says softly, laying it gently into Orihime's arms like an infant. "I put some hydrangea in it, for gratitude and heartfelt emotions. Sunflower, for adoration and dedication. And finally.. A stalk of statice. For remembrance, but it also signifies 'success.' You're doing okay, Miss Inoue, and I'm sure your brother is so proud of you."

After a refusal to accept payment and a receival of infinite thanks, Orihime is gone and Rukia moves wordlessly past Ichigo.

-- "You didn't have to do that." They're trimming stalks later that day: what seems to be their special time to talk like normal people, and Ichigo admits that for some reason, he kind of relishes it. "Refuse the payment, I mean. I can just pay for it tonight after close, if you'd like--"

"Not at all. I usually give reduced prices for funeral flowers anyway. Since this was for a significant other of an employee.... I was happy to give it." She pauses in her work. "Orihime is a kind girl."

"...Yeah," is all he can think to say, and they work in more silence before he suddenly realizes something. "Wait... What do you mean you give reduced prices for funerals? I hate to... Like, it's horrible, but isn't that where you make most of your business?"

"It could be, but I don't want it to. When you've lost someone... The last thing that should come with a heavy price tag is something beautiful, don't you think?"

Ichigo thinks of golden hair and sun dresses and being scooped up into thin, warm arms and all he can do is nod.

"So... I mean. Have you struggled with the business before then, or...?"

"If you're worried about your job, don't. I have my resources."

"I'm not worried about the job, Rukia, I just--why then? Why do you do this? You can like flowers, you can like giving flowers to people but you don't have to make a business out of it--"

"Do you expect to make much money writing?" The question isn't harsh, per se, just direct--but it catches Ichigo off guard.

"What...?"

"You may be a fool sometimes, but it seems you know enough about the world to realize potential consequences for your dreams. That you may have to take on another job you don't like. That you may continue to struggle with bills, maybe eat beans and rice every other week for awhile. But that's the thing, isn't it? It's for your dreams, your goals--what life is screaming at you to keep doing because otherwise: what are you doing here in the first place?" She stops her work to pick up a peony (happy life, good health, prosperity. Compassion.) and does something uncharacteristic: she puts it to her nose and smells it. After a moment, she continues: "This isn't the only thing I do, it isn't my only dream. I paint, I sketch sometimes. I have as equal a love for both. But that... Traditional visual art is a little more selfish, its for my own self expression. And for some--maybe many--they'll understand it and like it and that's wonderful. I'm humbled. But some may not and that's all right too. This is what I can contribute in a smaller way, to a singular person instead of a group or myself as a whole. I am allowed to express myself, to create poetry and meaning through natural, breathing things. And, better yet... I get to give them to people. To say, 'here you are, I made this just for you--'"

He kisses her, suddenly (wonderfully) and there's no thought involved and he should be embarrassed but he's not and all he can think is there's some floral smell to her but what flower what is the flower that clings to her like she was the hand to create it? He doesn't know quite yet he needs to kiss her some more to find out--

She releases herself from him gently and looks at him with something in her eyes like sadness or pity or whatever it is he doesn't want to tell because ah. There it is.

His embarrassment.

He shirks off his apron, grunts out a "sorry" before leaving.

-- He breaks up with Orihime about a week later.

It's amicable: she is visibly disappointed but they both agree they would love to stay friends, hoping to go out to breakfast once in awhile to get to know each other as buddies better.

He hasn't returned to work since though. -- He's awoken at nine in the morning by the doorbell.

It's been a month since he's even been within a half mile radius of the shop, and he knows it's probably for the best but he's been dreaming a lot about sharp words and fluttering hands and flowers and he's just starting to think fuck flowers--

The guy with the red hair and tattoos is on his doorstep holding a bundle and Ichigo's not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry.

"Yo. This weird, since we've never talked but, uh--" He lifts the bundle in one hand. "Rukia wanted me to give this to you. Said you'd get what it's for? Or should? I don't know. Just giving this as a favor for a friend."

"...Thanks?" Ichigo signs the package, waves an awkward goodbye to the guy and peeks into the wrapping and of course.

He doesn't understand how, but of course she knew what day it was.

A simple bouquet of Queen Anne's lace and a white stargazer lily: for sanctuary and sympathetic remembrance. A condolence card attached reads: For your dearest remembrance.--Rukia and Ichigo's heart hits the floor of his stomach with a thud.

Still, he continues on the day as he usually does: puts on a nice shirt, buys his mother's favorite chocolates and a contribution to family picnic, kisses his sisters and allows his dad one hug. The only difference is he leaves the grave early, asking his family (and mother) to forgive him because he's got to do something early the next morning.

-- When Rukia unlocks the front door to the shop the next morning, an alert Ichigo standing in the middle of it is not what she expects.

"Yo. Good morning."

He shoves a bundle into her arms, and she looks down. A haphazard bouquet droops in her arms and she raises her eyebrows inquisitively at him. "Ichigo..."

"First of all: I quit."

She blinks. "Yes, I gathered that when you hadn't shown to work in a month."

"Cool. Glad we got that covered. Because I kind of suck at this job--"

"A tad, yes."

"Rukia, shut up for one moment and let me talk, okay? I kind of suck at this job and flowers are cool and can be manly as hell if you dismantle society's preconceptions of what manly means... But they're not my thing. Writing is. But I like that thing you said about making poetry with living things and I kind of tried to do that with that bouquet in your hands but the flowers are older because you haven't received a new shipment yet and I had to break in here earlier than that with my employee keys which I hope you overlook because I'm trying to be romantic and also the fact that you knew about my mom's death without me telling you is also kind of creepy so we're both kind of creepy so there. Now. What do you think?"

She inspects it, and Ichigo tries not to wait on bated breath. "A rose, an iris, a gardenia, and a bird of paradise..." She looks up at him with a challenge in her eyes. "Why?"

He sucks in: he'd been ready for this. "So I picked the red rose because... I don't know. We all know what it means and it's kind of cliche. But it's classic, it's universal and something we all can recognize. I thought it fitting. I told you you were like an iris, once, and I think that may still be true--but honestly you're... A lot of different flowers. Maybe all of them, in a way. I think I really get it now when you said you didn't have a favorite, because really they're all your favorite. Or something. And the gardenia is an admission that the receiver is lovely, and. Um? The bird of paradise." He pauses. "The bird of paradise indicates exciting anticipation. Which is where I kind of am right now."

A beat passes. She eyes him with an unreadable expression, and he thinks shit shit this was so fucking cheesy, what if she's with the guy at his doorstep yesterday, what if she really did just mean her condolences--

"There is no cohesion at all with any of these flowers. They look awful together."

His heart sinks. "Uh... Yeah okay I know and I wanted to come in earlier to see what you had but my alarm didn't go off in time so I was scrambling to get here and--"

"You really made for a terrible employee," she murmers, and all in ten seconds she's put the flowers gently down on the counter and taken the three steps toward him and turned his face in her hands down to hers and he feels those lips again and there.

Iris.

He was right.

#ichirukimonth #ichiruki #bleach #my stuff #AHAHA GUESS WHO FINISHED A PROMPT AN HOUR BEFORE THE DUE DATE WAS OVER #true ass becky style #also forgive me if the flower meanings make NO SENSE #can u tell i totally just looked at an online guide for flower meanings

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