#possible second fic if yhis isnt bad

[biggestc4tl0v3r]

A BuddingRomance

The bell rang overhead, sound lingering as the door was closed behind the intruder. Richies nose was red, cokebottle lensed glasses steaming up at the sudden damp warm the shop provided, it was like a large greenhouse.

The walls and shelves were filled with ferns, flowers and shit he couldn’t name. It was like some tropical forest, or something! His lips twitched up into a grin, Ivory teeth on show as he tried to navigate his way through.

“Hello? Anyone around?”

His voice called out, rebounding from the walls and seeming almost muted. The air was wet and dense, heavy with an earthy scent, like a muddy river bank or a farm in April. It was familiar, so very familiar, yet the memory was fuzzy and out of his grasp.

He continued to search for another person within the shop, eyes focusing on a scrawny, tall man behind a counter. His stomach flipped and his heart ached, eyes widening as he watched closely.

Tall, lean, sharp features and cold grey eyes that seemed so focused but so far away, as if In another world. His skin was pale and speckled with almost as pale freckles that barely stood out. Small, dotted scars along the edge of his face, evenly spaced, precise. His heart swelled with an overwhelming feeling he didn’t know, face heating up the longer he stared.

His name tag read ‘Stanley’.

Richie's heart fluttered, his smile dopey and wide. For some reason, seeing this stranger had overwhelmed him with.. something he didn’t know. But he knew he had felt it before, a long while ago.

He began to search the shelves, smiling at the many flowers he brushed past, fingers gently stroking the silky petals of an almost golden flower. He wondered if His mom would like it, she was a very traditional and simple lady.

His mind began to wander as he stroked the flowers, a soft hum escaping his throat as his mind wandered back to the boy at the counter. Stanley, the name would roll off his tongue as if it was natural, as if he had done it all his life. He was attractive, really fucking attractive. But Rich knew better than to approach; he’d just make a fool of himself. It wouldn’t be a first, but it wouldn’t be exactly truthful to say Richie didn’t imagine an interaction. He had even considered some pick up lines he could use on the florist.

“I may be picking flowers, but I’d rather be picking you.”

He let out a small chuckle, his voice barely above a whisper. Was it his best? No. Was it good? No. Would it stop him making another? Fuck no.

“If I had a garden, I’d put our two lips together-“

He laughed again, nose wrinkling as he grinned at his own, shitty jokes. They weren’t funny to anyone but him, most likely, but he liked them. That’s all that mattered. He let out a snort, thinking of an even better one.

“Melons are fat, my ass is too, so why don’t you let me sleep with-“

“Hello.”

The interruption was out of the blue, such a surprise that he jumped, hand knocking aside the flower and its pot that he had just been admiring. He spun on his heel, eyes looking up as they met the gaze of the man. Of Stanley. He cleared his throat, face a bright red as he tried to figure out what he should say.

“I uh.. uh I um… yo dudeeee-“

His voice was strained and very clearly panicked, heart thumping in his chest and throat, blocking his airways; suffocating him. Richie didn’t move his eyes from Stanley, hands fumbling to stand the plant he had tipped. He pulled his hands back after he accomplished his tasks, wiping the damp dirt onto his shirt. Stanley watched him, his cold eyes unforgiving but his smile sly, curled upwards in the corners and his lips pulled thin. It made the Boy with the buck teeth weak at the knees.

“How may I help you, sir?”

His voice was as harsh as his gaze and it took Richie a moment to understand, heart throbbing and chest tight. Stanley had reduced him to putty in just seven words, but he couldn’t complain. He wanted to hear everything he had to say, every word in every language, his voice was wonderful. A godsend, really.

“I’m uh.. looking for some flowers. For my mom. For her birthday. Tomorrow. Yeah-“

He felt stupid, more so than usual. He didn’t even know the guy but Richie felt so helpless with him staring with those cold eyes. He seemed amused, watching Richie flustered and unable to form proper sentences. Who could blame him? It was quite funny.

“Alright. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

The rest of the morning was spent with Stan at Richie’s side, eyes fixating on the plants that lined the shelves. As time moved on, it grew easier to be around him - Rich had even managed to make conversation. He spoke about his talk show, about his parents, he felt as if he could discuss anything with stan. He felt as if he had known stan for his whole life. But of course, he hadn’t. He’d never met Stan before and if he had, he would’ve remembered. How could he ever forget?

The bouquet was placed in his hands, Stans fingers lingering against his own for longer than need be. Warmth radiated through Richie at the simple and brief touch, heart aching as he knew he had to leave.

“Catch ya later, staniel!”

“My name is Stanley.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. See you later...”

He turned on his heels, chest heavy with a longing he shouldn’t feel. He left the shop, bell chiming cut off as the door closed, the cold afternoon air engulfing him one again. Yet, his eyes caught on the tag, the ink smudges looking out of place. He brought it closer, reading the neat text, the breath being knocked from his lungs in one large, foggy huff.

‘xxxx-xxxx. Give me a call sometime, Richard. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer ♡’