@shukusho
Three times. Three whole times, the biker made his way across the room with intent to talk to the programmer-turned-florist. And three times, he’d turned on his heel halfway there in retreat. As a whole, he’d been much more relaxed than he usually was at this sort of social event. He thanked the flowers for that. But somehow the thought of speaking to his dear friend from home was a million times more nerve-wracking than ever before.
Finally, the fourth time was the charm. The party was an hour and a half in when he found Fujisaki in the garden. Anxiously rubbing at the back of his neck, he came up behind the other as he retouched a floral arrangement.
“I uh,” he began, kicking at the ground a bit, “I didn’t know you were into flowers’n stuff. Looks real good.”