Work Text:
“Bo, you got a new appointment request.” A soft ding sounded on his iPad. He swiped at the notification and immediately groaned.
Kuroo’s chuckle forced the grown into a glare, “You know I can’t take this. Tell them I’m unavailable.”
Kuroo tsk -ed and raised an eyebrow, “no.”
“Kuroo, I can’t-“
“No, I’m not going to keep letting you run from this. You need to suck it up and start accepting these requests.”
“No.” Bokuto threw back, though he sounded petulant even to his own ears. There was a trill on the iPad, “Oh, great, that’s a client, with feedback, I have to respond to this now.” He picked his feet up to sit cross-legged as he swiveled his chair away from Kuroo, who grabbed the back of it and pushed so that it completed a whole circle, then the iPad was snatched from his fingers.
“Look at that, they loved it, and are confirming the design, great. You can get started on this one. They want some peonies and a frog. You love frogs.”
“Give it to Tsukki!” Bokuto whined, letting both feet slip from the chair and land loudly on the cement ground. “He loves frogs!”
“No I don’t.” Came the emotionless response over the high pitched whirring of a tattoo needle from across the room.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just take the appointment,” Kuroo said, only slightly exasperated, “Yachi says flowers are the newest trend on instagram,” Bokuto held in his eye roll, “it’s going to be our number one request soon. You have got to get over this aversion.”
Bokuto just groaned loudly, the whirring stopped, and across the gym floor, Tsukki yelled, “Oh my god, get over it. It was one bad review !!”
“Yea, but it wasn’t your bad review,” Bokuto grumbled.
Kuroo sighed, “Fine. Then practice, get better. I don’t know why you let it get under your skin. Your flowers don’t look dead . But whatever. If you keep turning down requests you're not going to be able to keep your chair.”
Bokuto sat up straight, “you can’t kick me out! I’m the most requested artist!”
“Yea, but if you keep not doing the popular requests people aren’t going to request you anymore.”
The whirring hadn’t started back up, and they could hear Tsukki clear as day, “Also, he’s one of the owners… so…” Not that he was trying to whisper it or anything.
“Tsukki-“ Kuroo whined like he’d been called out, expressing his disappointment that Bokuto had been reminded the threat held no teeth.
“Oh wait- yea!” Bokuto crossed his arms triumphantly.
Kuroo turned back, “Fine I can’t kick you out. But you won’t be one of the top artists in the country if you don’t do any art .” He raised his eyebrow as he made his point, “I hear Sakusa is doing an interview for next month’s INKED .” He added, inconspicuously.
“Fine!” Bokuto stood and grabbed his sketchbook.
Kuroo stood back, but couldn’t contain a chuckle as he said, “Where are you going?”
“Next door!”
“Wait- what? Why?”
Bokuto paused in his small rampage of determination, “It’s a flower shop.” He explained, simply.
“Yea, but… You could just go to the park. You know, where the owner doesn’t hate us?” The smirk never left his face though his brows crinkled in confusion.
Bokuto sighed, his whole body drooping in dissatisfaction, “but those are so plain .”
Kuroo just stared at him, dumbfounded, then glanced at Tsukki who shook his head in defeat before starting his needle up again. Kuroo sighed, “whatever, just be back before your 7 o’clock.” He said as he turned around to sit back at his station.
Akaashi had a bright smile on his face when he saw the door open. He still had an hour or so before closing shop, and many last minute surprise gifts, purchased on the way home, were bought at that time. They were always his favorite bouquets to make. The cool November air floated in, and with it came a gorgeous trunk of a man. Akaashi felt his mouth go dry and immediately hated his body for reacting so involuntarily.
It wasn’t just any trunk of a man. It was Bokuto-san. One of the tattoo artists at the parlor next door. Akaashi cursed at the gods who allowed such a gorgeous man to be affiliated with a business he so abhorred.
When the boxing gym went bust seven months ago, Akaashi had finally breathed a sigh of relief. Third St. Boxing had not been the respectable business it had once been in the twenties. The customers were always mocking him and shouting at him for being a man running a flower shop. Akaashi had rolled his eyes at first, but when the threats got more… explicit, he’d had to change his store hours and let go his part time teenage worker, a nephew of a friend, for his own safety.
The owners were always rude and taking up parking for his shop, they blocked his delivery door, and laughed when they scared away potential customers from his shop.
To say Akaashi was happy at the “closed forever” sarcastic sign posted in the gym’s window in the spring would be an understatement. He immediately offered a half off sale for that day in an effort to get customers back, sneakily capturing the gym’s empty windows in the facebook post.
Within weeks his business was doing better, he was making a much larger profit, he was beginning to collect a following on instagram, and was even establishing regulars.
When he saw the sign for a tattoo parlor coming soon, he thought nothing of it. It was an art district. Not only that, but tattoo parlors tended to be hang out spots, and nothing was better for business than constant exposure. But then they didn’t change the name, or the signage, or the interior. He’d delivered a congratulatory arrangement to welcome them to the neighborhood. And realized the rowdy, loud, beefy neighbors were going to be just as much of a problem as his previous neighbors. They were probably past customers. Though he definitely would have remembered those golden eyes and those extremely large biceps.
They didn’t even notice him, too busy throwing a bouncing ball around the office with only a moment's notice. It’s ricochet completely unpredictable. Which is why Akaashi didn’t know to be cautious when it was thrown away from him. Sadly, the ball immediately changed direction and came directly for the ceramic pot of the arrangement in his arms. The one he’d carefully crafted as he mentally crafted his welcome lines that he planned to say to the very gorgeous black and white haired employee he’d caught eyes with that morning.
The pot was shattered, water and florist foam covered Akaashi from head to toe. He shook his hands once, the room finally in silence. When he finally heard a whispered apology it came far too late. He glared at the lot of them, ignoring sad, golden eyes completely. Then turned around on his heel and sloshed back to his shop, completely water logged. So much for decent neighbors.
For those very same golden eyes to be watching him with so much hope made Akaashi’s blood boil. The nerve . “Can I help you ? ” He snipped the end of a rose with a lot more force than was ever required. He mentally apologized to the rose.
“Actually, yea. I was hoping I could sketch some of your flowers!” He wasn’t the least bit remorseful, or hesitant.
Akaashi started, dumbfounded, “Are you actually serious right now?”
The hope faded from his eyes, “ye-yes?”
“Get out.” He turned around without another word.
“No, wait!” He leaned across the counter, reaching out.
The door opened, and Akaashi’s foul mood shifted immediately. He greeted the customer, completely ignoring Bokuto. “Please-“ Bokuto started before stopping short. Akaashi paid him no mind.
Bokuto watched Akaashi walk away from the counter, then kept watching him to make sure the customer had his full attention. When he was sure the florist had completely forgotten about him, he subtly slipped his sketchbook onto the counter. The pencil started moving across the page and soon Bokuto was lost to the pull.
He crouched close to the paper, gripping his pencil, and sticking his tongue out of his mouth as he sketched. He was adding shading when a hand tapped at the paper roughly, “I need to use my counter now, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi's soft voice came, trying to keep calm, but Bokuto knew he was angry.
“Right,” he said softly, slowly coming out of his crouch, as his back objected. “Sorry.” He started to tuck away the sketchbook, looking dejected.
Suddenly, a hand was splayed across his sketch. He looked up, Akaashi was holding onto the notebook and slowly lifted his hand when Bokuto stopped pulling the book away.
Akaashi pulled the sketchbook towards himself and lifted his hand from the orchid. A flower that for once, Bokuto was actually somewhat proud of, even if it was just a quick sketch. “You- Did you just draw this while I was away?”
Bokuto nodded, afraid to say a word and break the spell Akaashi’s face had spun on him.
Akaashi looked up and locked eyes with him, “I was only gone for thirty minutes,” Bokuto’s eyes widened. He had no idea he’d been so engrossed for so long.
Akaashi picked up the book and held it up next to the orchid behind him, the one that had left Bokuto so stunned he’d had to draw it. It was hardly photorealistic, but it was like something out of a victorian flora text. He glanced over his shoulder and then Bokuto asked, “what’s it called?”
“What?”
“The flower, what kind of flower is it?”
“It’s a Disa Orchid.” Akaashi said, still in awe. How could such a delinquent show so much respect to something so beautiful, recognize something so beautiful? Bokuto nodded, and Akaashi watched his lips repeat the words. Akaashi couldn’t hold back the words when he blurted, “This is gorgeous,” as though it was an absolute fact.
Bokuto finally took the sketch back and hid it away, Akaashi felt a stab of disappointment, “No, it looks dead,” he mumbled, looking completely dejected.
“What?” Akaashi thought it looked anything but.
“I can’t draw flowers,” he explained, ashamed.
“But… you can? That was gorgeous. And it was only a thirty minute sketch. I can’t draw, but if I could -“
‘No, I know I can… draw, ” Bokuto shrugged as he tried to find the words, and Akaashi let him, “but I need to be able to do more than just draw well.” He pulled out his phone and after a few seconds turned it around to Akaashi.
An instagram feed of gorgeous, realistic tattoos was on the screen. Akaashi scrolled through and clicked on a few. It was like looking at a museum’s collection. “You did all these?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” His laugh was self-deprecating. “It’s the shop’s account. So, some are mine, but some are also by Tsukki and Kuroo.” He pointed to three different pieces as he spoke. Akaashi enlarged the one he said he’d done.
He gasped silently and stared, “so why do you need to draw my flowers?” he asked, handing the phone back once he’d composed himself.
Bokuto’s mood shifted again, “we’re really well known for our realism.” He explained, “which is great. I’m good at that.”
“Clearly” Akaashi interrupted, causing Bokuto to give a small smile.
“Well, we’ve been getting a lot of requests for flowers lately.” He sighed, “and the first one I did… they said it looked terrible, that it looked… dead.” He shrugged, “it’s hard to study flowers really well- good ones anyway. The pretty ones people would want tattooed on them, ya know.”
Akaashi nodded, he had no idea. “So you want to practice with my flowers?”
Bokuto nodded quickly, practically leaping over the counter. Akaashi tapped his fingers as he thought it over. He was going to hate himself for this… “Okay, but you have to stay out of my way, and out of the customers' way.” He clarified.
Bokuto bowed low enough, he banged his head against the counter. When he straightened, holding his forehead, his smile was blinding, “I can’t tell you what this means,” he bowed again, stopping before the counter and left the shop in a rush.
After a moment of silence, Akaashi just groaned. This was going to be a terrible idea.
“Stop lying,” Kuroo was laughing in disbelief, and Bokuto was beginning to get frustrated with his best friend. “Seriously where have you been?” He asked once he’d sobered, still clutching his stomach.
“I was next. Door.” He said through clenched teeth.
“I think he’s serious,” Tsukki said with wide eyes. “What did you do? Pay him to let you stay?”
“No! I just… drew an orchid.” He shrugged, then quietly said, “and he liked it.” His cheeks warmed.
Tsukki and Kuroo stared at him. “Right, anyway.” Tsukki said as he stood, “I have to wrap up this design for a client, and then I’m going home. You two have fun.”
Kuroo clapped his shoulder and nodded in acknowledgement then leaned forward, “so you drew a flower, and he said ‘you know what, I don’t actually hate you anymore?’”
Bokuto just glared at him, “No, but you know what? I’ll let you know what he says Monday.”
Kuroo was always in the shop early. He unlocked everything, cleaned down the stations, swept, counted the drawer, and then sent emails to their social media manager, a friend of one of their apprentices. He always said it was to stay in the loop of what their followers were saying and thinking. So that Third Gym could stay up to date on trends and therefore stay relevant.
When Bokuto came in early, for the first time in a very long time, and it was immediately clear that the main reason Kuroo kept so involved had nothing to do with ‘staying connected’ with fans, and everything to do with flirting with Yachi Hitoka, low level designer for a local PR company. When Bokuto dropped his bag at his workstation, Kuroo’s head snapped up from where he’d been bashfully hanging it. The flirty smirk flew from his face and he started speaking quickly into the phone, hand covering his mouth so Bokuto couldn’t hear him well.
Though he was able to make out, “talk to you tonight,” which caused an eyebrow to raise.
Kuroo hung up the phone quickly, and cleared his throat, “you’re here early.” He stumbled through.
“Oh please, you shouldn’t have let me disturb you.” He said, holding his hands up and shaking his head.
Red faced and avoiding eye contact, Kuroo asked, “how much did you hear?”
“Oh my god, how much was there to hear?” Bokuto asked, incredulously. “Bro, were you having phone se-“
“No!”
“I mean look, it’s fine, but maybe keep it professional in the workplace?” Bokuto teased, relishing this very rare opportunity to be the instigator against Kuroo Tetsuro.
“Why are you here so early? We don’t open for another three hours?” He was still blushing, but his tone told Bokuto to drop it.
“I’m sorry I ruined your date, but I’m leaving in a second anyway,” he pulled his sketch pad from his bag and checked over his station quickly. Then he started walking to the door.
“Wait- where are you going?” Kuroo said, pointing at him with his phone.
Bokuto cleared his throat in guilt, “just next door.” He said, avoiding eye contact.
“To the florist?”
“No, to the pest control.” Bokuto rolled his eyes.
“Well, they’re closed anyway. Bo, do you think that’s a good idea?”
“He said I could come!” Bokuto insisted.
“I just don’t understand why you can’t go to the park, that way we don’t make enemies in the neighborhood. There’s a community here. And they all like the florist.”
“The park doesn’t have pretty enough flowers!” Bokuto insisted.
“Oh right” Kuroo seemed to suddenly remember something very important from their first encounter with the florist. “And I’m sure they have all kinds of beauties at the shop.”
“Just like I’m sure that phone call was about our instagram statistics.”
Kuroo made a face and Bokuto mockingly returned it.
Though he’d been brave in front of Kuroo, now that he was standing at the door, Bokuto found his heart hammering, and unable to raise his hand to push the door open.
Then the door opened for him. He leapt back, hand clutched to his chest. Akaashi poked his head out the door, a very exasperated grimace on his face, “You’re going to scare customers if you keep standing there.”
“Sorry,” Bokuto said as he followed Akaashi into the shop. The smell was so much stronger than it had been the day before. Bokuto had never cared for floral scents. When girls wore them on dates, he found it overpowering and almost sickly. Here, though, it was magnificent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, opening his mouth slightly to taste the scent on his tongue. When he slowly opened his eyes, Akaashi had stopped and was watching him. Bokuto couldn’t decipher the look on his face, but it was one he’d never seen before. Considering the shorter man had only ever looked at him with disdain, he was grateful for the change. “Sorry,” he said again, smaller this time.
Akaashi turned away and walked to the counter. “Don’t bother the customers,” he said, his face red, Bokuto absently wondered if he’d gone to the beach over the weekend. He was about to ask when Akaashi added, “and don’t bother me.” But it was more of an afterthought, and held none of the usual menace he glared at them while he was locking up at night.
Bokuto just nodded and walked over to a small corner of the room where a beautiful deep purple flower had caught his eye. It was surrounded by yellow carnations and some orange flower that looked like a dress a small fairy might wear. Together they made a vibrant, stunning bouquet, surrounded by small sprigs of what he could only assume was tiny balls of cotton and some green fronds to flesh it out. He took a picture in the hopes of being able to capture the colors later, and sat down on the window sill to sketch.
He was hunched over his sketch pad for what only seemed like a few minutes when he glanced up at the bouquet only to see a cup of tea blocking his sight. He followed the arm holding the cup to Akaashi, who was looking down with a crease to his brow. “I made tea. If you want.” He set the cup down quickly on the table. Bokuto straightened and the constriction of his muscles caused a very involuntary groan.
Akaashi’s eyes widened but he glanced away, to the bouquet that had piqued Bokuto’s interest. His brow furrowed again, harsher, and mumbled “you’ve got to be kidding me.” Then he let out a bark of laughter and shook his head.
Bokuto watched the entire thing, fascinated. It was more emotions in one day than he’d seen from Akaashi in the entire five months he’d worked next door. His lips moved, trying to form words, before his voice caught up to the intention and blurted out, “What’s the funny?” Sadly, his brain was never made aware of the situation and was unable to form a coherent sentence.
Akaashi didn’t seem to notice and only gestured to the bouquet. “Why did you pick this one?” He asked, genuinely interested in the answer.
Hesitantly, Bokuto thought over how to answer. He decided to offer, “the colors compliment each other. I thought it would make a dynamic piece.” He tilted his head, thinking over what he’d just said while staring at the bouquet, then nodded and looked up to Akaashi.
For his credit, Akaashi was quick to recover from his shock. While he had first started the bouquet out of petty annoyance, he recalled his first thought upon completion being that the colors would look lovely on someone’s skin. His mind recalling the pages and pages of realistic, colorful work on his neighbor’s instagram page before he shook his head and tucked the creation in a corner. For Bokuto to be drawn to it, of all things in the shop. Well, of course he was. “Do you know what flowers these are?” He asked, anticipating the answer.
“I know carnations,” Bokuto tapped his pencil on the pad for a moment, actually thinking, before shaking his head, “what are the rest?”
Akaashi lifted his fingers, and ignored Bokuto’s rapt attention as he gently gestured towards the orange flowers, “This is Butterfly Weed. And these,” he tapped the stem of the bright purple flower, “Are Aconite.” He adjusted a green frond, debating what he was about to ask. He decided to do it anyway. “Do you know what they mean?” He pulled his hands close, intertwining his fingers and rubbing a knuckle absently. Bokuto still watched his movements and Akaashi quickly tucked his hands behind his back. Bokuto’s gold eyes locked onto Akaashi and he shook his head.
Akaashi looked away, “Aconite means ‘hatred’ and ‘to be cautious’. Butterfly weed means ‘leave me’. And yellow carnations symbolize disdain.” He nodded once and looked back to Bokuto.
The larger man had a confused look on his face. His eyes were downcast, his mouth in a small grimace. Then he said, “well, that’s not very fair.”
Akaashi was silent for a moment, “…what isn’t?”
Bokuto shrugged, “they’re so pretty, who said they have to mean bad things? That’s not fair. But roses get to mean romance? They don’t even smell nice.” He shook his head and shifted in his chair, “I still think they’re beautiful. Who cares what a bunch of people a hundred years ago thought they meant?” Then he grumbled, “probably just jealous.” And went back to his sketching.
Akaashi let out a breathy chuckle in shock. Then he stayed there, watching Bokuto sketch. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t moved until Bokuto’s hand started to slow and he slowly looked up at Akaashi, worry in his eyes.
“Did… did I say something wrong? Do you want me to leave?” He asked, already closing his sketchbook, regret across every facet of his face.
Akaashi just watched him for a moment before shaking his head slowly, “No-“ he composed himself, realizing he’d been caught staring, “sorry, no. Just. No one’s ever talked about them like that before.”
“…Roses?” Bokuto guessed blindly and Akaashi let out a full peal of laughter.
Once he realized he wasn’t being kicked out, Bokuto relaxed some and leaned back in his chair. He asked about a few other flowers he’d noticed around the shop. Full, pink things that looked like soft puffs- peonies, purple and blue trumpets- petunias, delicate wisps of a thing- sweet pea. Bokuto eventually stood and lingered in the doorway, explaining he had an appointment soon. Akaashi turned away to focus on organizing a shelf, as though nothing had changed and Bokuto leaving was a long awaited relief. But then, he turned over his shoulder and said, “you can come again tomorrow, I don’t mind.” Nothing else was said, but Bokuto left the shop with a smile on his face.
Kuroo started asking if anything untoward had happened in the hours he’d been next door. Bokuto only asked if they’d need to buy more lotion after his latest call to the sweet social media manager, or would they finally meet in person and put an end to everyone’s torment.
The entire gym was quiet at that, even Bokuto felt he’d gone too far. But then a loud, “pffft” interrupted his guilty conscience as Tsukki was unable to hold in his laughter. Kuroo’s apprentice, Lev, quickly joined in with his obnoxious laugh.
With a smirk and an eye roll, Kuroo stood with his hands on his hips, “Yea, okay, fine.” He pointed at Bokuto, “But at least she doesn’t hate me, unlike someone’s crush.”
Bokuto’s own apprentice, Hinata, perked up at that, “oh, does that mean you really have a crush on Hitoka, then?” Kuroo gaped at his own mistake and made a few scoffing noises in return before Hinata continued, “because I keep telling her that, but she doesn’t believe me.”
Kuroo let out a high pitched whine, “you what? ”
Every day continued like that, Bokuto coming in early, sketching for a few hours, then coming back for appointments. He tried to not bother Akaashi with questions when he was in the shop, and instead picked up a field guide to flowers. He began watering certain plants that he noticed were beginning to wilt, and rotated succulents every few days. He’d become so much of a staple that some customers would ask his opinions and not one of those things went unnoticed by Akaashi, who had been constantly watching him from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to mess up. Itching for an excuse to kick him out.
But everyday, Bokuto was quiet, helpful, awestruck by the beauty of the flowers he had devoted his time to study. He left quietly, or as quietly as someone with such a huge personality was capable of. He’d say goodbye every time, too. Like he wanted to make sure Akaashi knew he was leaving, always sounding a little sad about it, always a little dejected when Akaashi only nodded in acknowledgment.
Akaashi stopped at Third Gym one day on his way home. He’d locked up and heard music coming from the shop, and laughter. He thought maybe he could give the artist a second chance. A number of recent sales had been thanks to Bokuto’s sketches on his Instagram page. He walked in the front door, and was greeted by an extremely eager redhead that had to be related to Bokuto, if his energy level was anything to go by. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” He called and ran into the open space with an arm full of what looked like medical supplies.
Akaashi didn’t know much about the world of tattoos, but he knew health code protocol when he saw it. His eyes followed the small young man as he darted across the room, delivering boxes of rubber gloves and gauze to different stations set up around the central boxing ring. It was amusing how they'd incorporated the gym’s remaining equipment as desks and storage. He could see how it would be popular for the instagram audience.
He watched the redhead deliver the last of his supplies to a large man hovering over a prone body on an exam table. The grey and white hair drooping with sweat. The thin jacket he’d been wearing earlier discarded. Bokuto had that same task focus gaze he’d have while sketching flowers. Except now he was wiping away blood and excess ink.
Akaashi watched, fascinated, as Bokuto’s muscles along his back and arms flexed and stretched. He watched the colorful ink across his skin stretch and dance. He could make out a few designs. An owl and a starburst, a few planets and a koi fish. There were other designs, but Akaashi couldn’t make them out from his distance. He leaned to the side to get a better view when he saw what he assumed was Bokuto’s desk. And on it was a single small stalk from the stuckyi plant he had brought that first day. The one that had been smashed when he’d dropped it on the stained concrete floor. Bokuto had saved it, some of it. Probably the most he was able to save.
Akaashi knew he was staring, he knew it even as Bokuto’s head popped up to the red head’s presence. He kept staring when a thumb pointed his way, when Bokuto’s head snapped around, and when Bokuto waved in the international signal for ‘ just a second’ Akaashi continued to stare. But then he realized what he was doing when the bell for the door rang behind him and a small blonde woman walked towards the center of the room, crossing his line of sight and breaking the spell he was under.
Without another word, he turned around and left the tattoo shop.
It took Bokuto only two minutes to get to a breakpoint, he stretched his back and turned around to face Akaashi again, only to find him absent. He looked around the shop. But while Yachi had sipped in at some point to sit next to Kuroo’s work station while he put the finishing touches on a piece he’d be inking that night, Akaashi had slipped out.
When Hinata made his way back to the front desk he let out a loud, “oh!” He came back to Bokuto’s station with a small plant. “Hey, didn’t you post something like this on your instagram yesterday?”
Bokuto took the flower from Hinata’s hands. Vivid purple, almost alien in shape. Aconite- what he now knew was commonly called Monkshood. Hatred. He smiled.
Akaashi’s shop was closed the next day, a Sunday, as was the parlor, but Bokuto still found himself standing outside the window, admiring the cheery flowers on display. Then he saw movement. Then a tall frame with dark black hair curled at the ears.
He knocked on the window. When Akaashi jumped and turned around, Bokuto waved. A small, shy thing, meant to convey an apology for startling him.
Akaashi hurried to the front door to unlock it. Bokuto had just expected a wave back, but then Akaashi pushed the door a little and Bokuto pulled it the rest of the way to let his large frame into the shop. “Were you hoping to sketch today?” He sounded disinterested in that calm way Bokuto had come to expect.
He hadn’t, but pulled out his sketchbook from his backpack anyway. Nodding before he could stop himself.
Akaashi gestured to the shop, “we’re closed today, so you can sit wherever you want. You won’t bother anyone.”
Bokuto leaned over the counter, “what are you doing here on a Sunday?” He asked, absently sketching whatever was on display by the register.
“I reorganize the display every Sunday.” Akaashi explained simply, as though he was too focused on the arrangement in front of him, and not on how to breathe properly knowing no one would interrupt them. As though he wasn’t completely focused on every movement Bokuto’s body made.
Bokuto nodded and Akaashi asked, “Why are you out here? Were you planning to sit outside the shop and sketch through the window.”
Bokuto froze momentarily, likely at being caught, before saying, “Yep.” Quickly, and that was the end of their conversation. Akaashi finished the arrangement and brought it to the front of the store. When he returned Bokuto had left the counter.
Akaashi didn’t think much of it. He’d either left the shop or was hiding in the fronds like he usually did. He took a deep breath and shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand.
An hour later, and Akaashi finally came across Bokuto in the house plant section he hadn’t had a chance to water yet. He had a small glass of water and was gently holding up the leaves of a wild fern as he poured the water. He was also talking gently as though he was speaking to the plant. ”What are you doing?” He asked, and Bokuto jumped, spilling water on the floor. The larger man cursed, but Akaashi waved it away, “It’s water it’ll dry,” he mumbled as he walked closer.
He inspected the plant and Bokuto finally spoke, “I was just watering it. I do that sometimes when they seem a little sad.”
Akaashi froze, “You water them?”
Bokuto nodded slowly, “I also read that talking to them can help, so I tell them thanks.”
“Thanks?”
“Yea. For inspiring me. That’s why I water them, too. Well, and for letting me draw them.”
Akaashi just nodded. “You know, it is my shop, maybe I should get a drink for thanks, too.” He had no idea why he said that, but he didn’t have a chance to contemplate it when Bokuto just smirked.
“Or I could take you out for a drink because I want to.”
Akaashi smiled back, “Or that.”