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Morrissey runs his fingers over the petals of the pink and yellow gladioli. They’ve always been his favorite, their beauty drawing him in each time he goes to the florist. This time, he purchased more than enough for the show, so he’s left with extras.
He watches Johnny spray his hair with hairspray in the dressing room mirror, admiring him, as he does. He finds himself wondering if he’s as soft as the flower petals are.
Johnny catches him staring. “Hey Moz,” he greets. His eyes land on the vibrant gladioli. “Nice flowers, they for the show?”
Morrissey smiles sweetly, holding them out to him. “No, they’re for you.”
He turns around and takes them, and Morrissey earns a peck on the cheek. He blushes wildly, face as colorful as the flowers.