#the last one is supposed to be beewens (noor and engel) i thought it looked like them!!!!

[bvtter]

for @kieutu​, love, your secret santa 🎄

[azozzoni]

Beewens au

The downside to being a florist, Engel had decided a long time ago, was that no one ever bothered sending her flowers.

Not the immature boys she had lusted over in high school or even the smart, “mature” men she’d dated after college. Of everyone who came in her shop, picked through the roses and gladioluses and sneered at the poor carnations, no one seemed to think she deserved flowers too.

Today, every corner of her workshop at the back of the store was covered in hydrangeas—perfectly purely white as the bride had very specifically instructed. The bouquets were tied with pale purple ribbon, a pearl pinned at the top of each; the centerpieces an explosion of white with bursts of purple irises carefully placed among the hydrangeas. Engel smiled to herself as she adjusted the petals, careful not to bend any as she set them in their box.

Weddings were her favorite arrangements to make, even if some of the brides occasionally went overboard in their need for perfection. Engel didn’t mind. After all, it was supposed to be the best day of their lives.

Most days were far more ordinary. People came in looking for arrangements to say “I’m sorry” or “I hope you get better.” And sometimes, they came to say “I love you.”

As Engel set the last bouquet in the box, the bell at the front door jingled, quiet over the music playing from the speakers.

Brushing off her hands, Engel headed for the front. It was a bit early for the first apology flowers, but the weekends could be busy.

It wasn’t a man waiting for her when Engel stepped out from the back room, but a woman her age, hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, dark hair cut sharply to her chin as she tilted her head to the side, seemingly considering a bucket filled with pink peonies.

“Morning,” Engel greeted her, catching the woman’s eye as she turned, light glinting off the ring in her nose. “Can I help you?”

The woman seemed to pause a second before approaching the counter, taking her hands from her pockets to drum her red-painted nails against it.

“I want to get a bouquet of roses,” she said finally, and Engel nodded, watching the way the woman smiled as she caught her looking at the tattoo peeking out under the collar of her shirt.

“Roses?” she repeated, sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear as the woman’s dark eyes rested on her, as though intrigued somehow. There was nothing intriguing about Engel as far as she knew. “Lucky boyfriend.”

“Not exactly.” The woman smiled, and Engel felt a tiny prick of understanding.

Oh.

It wasn’t as though she was surprised. All sorts of people came into the shop. She couldn’t count the number of times Lucas had come trying to woo some new boy with flowers.

“Lucky girlfriend then,” she said swiftly as she pulled out her arrangement book.

The woman smiled again, almost laughing, swinging as she placed her hands back in her pockets.

“Actually, it’s just a friend. She got dumped by some asshole guy, yet again.

“I’m sorry,” Engel said, flipping through the book, looking up when the woman didn’t reply.

The woman shrugged easily, watching Engel, almost softly. “It’s her own fault for having such terrible taste in guys. I just want to cheer her up.”

“That’s sweet,” Engel said. No one ever sent her flowers to cheer her up. Well, she supposed they probably thought she had plenty in her shop. But Engel knew better than anyone that it was the thought that counted.

The woman was still watching her, as though curious, as though interested somehow, as though there was more to this than the photos of roses in the book on the counter. Engel didn’t know why.

“I’ll need your name for the order,” she said after a minute in which neither of them looked at the book. Engel wasn’t sure what it was, an unexpected tingle, but not unease, as the woman held out a hand.

“I’m Noor,” she said, taking Engel’s hand softly.

“Engel,” she replied, smiling slightly as Noor released her hand. Biting her lip, she took a short breath. “So, what color roses were you thinking?”

Glancing at Engel, Noor just smiled as she pulled the book towards her across the counter.