Work Text:
When Goro Akechi came to Leblanc, he brought with him a weary smile and a conversation.
“I don’t care much for flowers.” Goro took a sip of his coffee, a tired sigh written on his face; as visible as if it had been circled in red pen. “They are pretty, but…”
Akira fidgeted with a napkin, thoughtfully considering the boy’s response. “Not even a little, huh?” His mouth curved into a frown.
“Well, I suppose if they came from you I wouldn’t mind.” Akechi laughed.
Akira sat up straighter, eyes twinkling. “What are your favorites?”
“I don’t have a preference. Surprise me.” The detective winked, and Akira looked away, a smile tugging at his lips.
---
The next time Goro Akechi came to Leblanc, he brought with him a faraway expression and a bouquet of red dahlias.
His eyes brightened when Akira took the seat next to him.
“Thought you didn’t like flowers.” The trickster’s teasing grin eased a shy smile out of the detective prince, who fidgeted with his tie and looked away. His cheeks were pink.
“I suppose they aren’t so bad, once in a while. Besides, they’re...for you.”
He left soon after.
Akira could still hear his retreating footsteps echoing through his mind as he sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the bouquet. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the gesture.
Red dahlias...hardly an ideal choice, considering their meaning.
What was Goro trying to tell him?
His eyes widened as the flowers shifted and he caught a glimpse of a perfect white tulip, hidden in the center.
---
The last time Goro Akechi came to Leblanc, he brought with him a silence that scared even Akira. When asked what was the matter, the detective prince shook his head slowly, saying nothing.
He left, his cup of coffee cold and untouched.
---
Akira collapsed alone in a cold, empty Leblanc. On the counter sat a vase, nothing left inside except a few centimeters of stagnant water and a couple rotting stems. A shriveled petal clung to the glass.
It was dark. It was so, so, dark. If only he could find the lights--
But, no. No, no no. Goro was his light, and he was gone, gone, gone , taking all the other lights with him.
He vividly remembered the tulip, carefully hidden amongst the dahlias as if it were a secret heart.
White tulip. An apology flower.
The dahlias laughed, reminding him, telling him he was a fool, a fool, a fool a fool a fool
The tulip bent in the wind, and it whispered to him one thing.
I’m sorry.