to: Lara
from: Haruru
message: Hello and Merry Christmas!! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me for you gift, I wished I could’ve done a lot more and a lot better with it, but I hope you like it /o/
Saintpaulia
Usami Natsuki/Sanada Yuki
The first thing Natsuki sees is a mop of red, the tips dusted yellow with lights streaming through the shop windows. From across the road, a puddle ripples under his feet when he stops. He watches the boy with the red hair, open palm catching raindrops off the potpourri green canopy. He sees a small frown pull at the boy’s lips before he wipes his hand on his apron, moving to bring the pot of fuchsias into the shop.
When he passes by the flower shop again, pots of peonies line the shop outside. He wonders if the boy is working today.
A present for Erika, is what he tells himself when his hand touches the oak door.
She needs to learn how to care for things, is a good reason not to turn away and go home when he hears the small welcoming bell chime.
“Excuse me, the peonies out front…?”
Red pops out from the back room, stumbling over a bucket of pink tulips, and Natsuki finds himself staring. A round face stained pink at his cheeks, brown eyes framed by those vivid―
"I’d like to buy them?" Natsuki says.
The boy offers a short bow and a squeak before running out of the shop.
Natsuki comes home with a pot of peonies cradled in his arms.
Erika better fucking appreciate the gift.
It’s calliopsises this time, pink cheeks behind a cluster of yellow, a small smile behind the counter.
"Oh, y-you’re back," the boy says.
"Yeah." He’s surprised to hear his voice — small and quiet, a sharp contrast to how striking he looks.
"How did you like the peonies?"
"It was for my cousin." A beat of silence between them, then, "She likes them."
Natsuki looks away, his hand picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his uniform jacket.
It’s like the other boy’s flushed face isn’t really there – a soft rouge at the corner of his eyes – if he tries not to look.
Natsuki asks for his name, the next time he visits, courtesy of Erika.
Come on, Nacchan, she had said over tea.
You don’t have any friends anyway. She had a point. One he could do without being pointed out, but a point.
Say that you need to buy fertilizer for me, was her brilliant plan.
Needless to say, he needs to consider his life choices and the things he tells Erika, because this is definitely a bad idea.
"I’m sorry!" the boy squeaks, shoulders tense and eyes darting from the ceiling to the cards display and to the floor – away from Natsuki. "I think I hear my grandma calling―" He ducks under the counter. "Yeah― Thanks for your patronage! T-this is for your troubles― You’re welcome to come again?” The boy shoots out and shoves a few stems thunberg spirea to his chest before disappearing to the back room.
Natsuki blinks, once, twice, and looks at the flower in his hand.
He buys a packet of deciduous camellia seeds the next day, face warm and ears red.
Yuki takes the packet and puts it in a paper bag. “Thank you for your patronage, as always!”
When he looks up, he sees Yuki’s eyes downcast, fingers worrying the paper bag.
"Thanks," Natsuki mutters. "Yuki."
He sees the moment realisation dawns on Yuki’s face – wide-eyed and lips parted, a blank stare at something behind Natsuki’s head. He nearly laughs when Yuki nearly rips the paper bag open, peering inside and looking back at Natsuki in disbelief.
"Natsuki?" Yuki’s voice was light, airy, laced with the slightest bit of hesitance.
Yuki’s smile is bright – and how he smiles! – bright as the red that seeps into the tips of his ears, blending into his hair.
Natsuki walks out the shop with the bag of fertilizer he forgot to get last time. Maybe he’ll stop by the bakery on his way home, buy some chocolate doughnuts as an offering to his dear cousin, because he can’t believe he’s saying this, thank god for Erika’s seemingly useless but indispensable advice.
Over the vase of early spike tails on the teachers desk, he sees familiar crimson pass his classroom door. Natsuki jumps and runs out of the door, his shoes making a sharp screech against the floor when he slides to a stop.
Yuki is wearing his school uniform.
Yuki is in his grade’s hallway.
Yuki is right in front of him, on his way home with a mint coloured umbrella closed in his hand.
Time stops when he takes a breath, distant sounds muted in his ears when the first wisp of air passes through his lips.
He takes a chance, and plunges in―
Warmth envelops him when he expects bone-chilling cold, a comforting embrace at the sight of fluttering red hair, Yuki looking back towards him.
Yuki twirls his umbrella as he walks, he notes. It’s almost lomographic, the way the scene is ill-focused – scattered raindrops on his glasses taking a walden tinge, hazy around the edges.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Natsuki?”
His sight wavers, panning from Yuki’s shoulder, to his lips. He notices the way the umbrella casts a subtle shade, the red of his hair subdued, calmer under the weather.
Feverfew flowers in full bloom by his feet, they part ways. Yuki closes his umbrella and walks into the warm light of the flower shop.
African violets greet him on the counter, Yuki’s hand wrap tightly around the clay pot. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and squeezes his eyes shut. A staggering breath, and he slides it, just a small few centimetres.
"A gift," he whispers. "For always visiting."
Yuki looks up, straight at Natsuki. His eyes softens as he smiles. “Thank you.”
Natsuki wonders how he looks right now, scratching the back of his neck, finding the far wall at his left suddenly catching his interest.
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