Archive of Our Own

Once upon a time, there was a witch. She wasn’t a very powerful witch, but she put her magic into the her flower shop to attract customers and business was good. Every day was happy, and she grew happier when her customers enjoyed her flowers. It was also how she met her husband, fell in love and married him. 

They had a child and tried for another, but her body couldn’t handle it. She was upset for a time but she bounced back and, once her son had grown, she decided to look for a child to bring into their happy home. And so they entered the foster system and began to foster children. They came and went until one stayed with them for the longest amount of time. He also had magic and she showed him simple spells that would suit his skills. Perhaps because of past experiences, he never told her what his magic was, only describing it vaguely. 

Then, one day, shortly after she had announced her intention to adopt him, he had used one of her spells to commit a crime. He was put into a juvenile detention centre and she lost him. Neither her husband nor her son could figure out why he had done such a thing so suddenly, and the witch decided to give him another chance. But he rejected her offer of adoption. So, with a heavy heart, she let him go and returned to fostering, children coming and going, none of them wishing to stay with them.

For a while, she made do. However, she always thought about the boy she nearly adopted. So, when they moved to South Carolina for her husband’s work, she was delighted to find that her new flower shop put her into the path of the boy. Apparently, he was working full time in a tattoo parlour to help put his twin brother through medical school. The witch was delighted and was disappointed when the boy didn’t seem to care. 

Her son, though, was also happy to hear that the boy was back in the witch’s life. So he returned home early and went to visit the boy. He started living with the witch again and she was happy, with her husband and her son and her fostered children. Then, out of nowhere, someone made a complaint about her home and the foster children were removed from her care.

It was as if the witch was trapped in a nightmare. Then, to make matters worse, the boy’s twin brother killed her son. They said it was in defense of the boy. They said that her son had been a horrible person. They said he deserved it. 

The trial was the worst thing that the witch had ever had to endure and not even her husband could quell her suffering. And, every day, she could see the boy pass her shop without a glance on his way to work. Fury rose within her and she turned her magic to a curse so powerful that it would have killed her had she not poured it all into a single red rose. The petals turned black, the stem turned pale and the curse was activated. All she had to do was give it to the boy.

So she ambushed him one day and pressed it into his hand, making sure the thorn drew blood. “This is a curse,” she hissed at him, her eyes focussed on his bored ones. “You will no longer be able to speak, to spit cruel words. No-one will be able to understand you. It will only be broken when you are able to communicate to someone clearly.” Then she withdrew and left him to her fate.

But she grew weak and could no longer run the flower shop. Her sorrow and rage and guilt drove her from the shop. However, she could not bear to see the shop turned into something else and so she put it up for sale on the proviso that they either had flower magic or intended to continue running it. A boy around the cursed one’s age appeared and told her that he was interested. So the witch lost another part of herself and she continued to mourn…

Neil stared across the road at the flower shop, the keys for it digging into his hand. In the dim, early morning light, the place was mostly in shadows. A streetlamp showcased a strange colour on it, the pastel pinks and yellows looking almost sickly. Above the large windows - a danger if anyone were to target him from outside - the sign declared the place as being Flower’s Breath , a play on Baby’s Breath, he supposed. 

It was also entirely his.

He’d bought the place from a self-proclaimed witch who looked rather stressed. She was probably ill, Neil figured. Mrs. Spear hadn’t asked for much, seemingly wanting rid of the place as soon as possible. Neil had been wary when he realised, but the flowers had told him that there wasn’t anything magically wrong with the place. Relieved, he had accepted it, only using some of the money he and his mother had taken from his father.

Most of the money had come from the jobs he had taken on after his mother died. After getting some sort of high school diploma, he had taken on odd jobs in any place he stopped. Months and years passed, and Neil had watched as his father had been killed in a hit, his people slowly dying off or being put behind bars. He still didn’t feel completely safe but, after some time, he was able to stay in places longer until, finally, he had seen a florist selling her shop. It felt like fate and Neil let it, for once, guide him into the next chapter of his life. 

So he crossed the road and unlocked the shop, locking the door behind him once he’d entered. For a moment, he merely took in all the flowers that were still there, the way they drooped. Colour assaulted him on all sides, but it was a comfort after the pale colours outside. Neil wondered, briefly, if he should change the name or the outside colour scheme before redirecting his attention. Stepping towards some lilies, he brushed his fingers against them and infused them with his magic. They bounced back from their depression and tittered at him. Neil rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he said to them. “I’m your new friend. I need to get everything sorted today and then I can spend more time with you.”

As soon as they heard that, the rest of the flowers exploded to life. Scents and colours and quiet cheers surrounded Neil. He couldn’t help but smile as he made his way to the back room so he could familiarise himself with the materials the witch had left behind. Usually, this sort of attention would make his very being squirm, but he knew well that his father’s people would never listen to the flowers.

His father had always hoped that Neil would inherit his magic, the power to cause pain and suffering. When his mother had run with him, she had hoped for him to be able to become invisible, to redirect someone’s gaze, or to inherit her ability to instantly grasp a language. But Neil had somehow been granted the magic ability to talk to flowers. He understood them and they understood him. With a touch, he could give them a little lift, a little more life, bring them back from the brink of death. A glance could tell him if they needed nutrients or water or more sunlight. In return, the flowers could warn him of danger, could tell him information he needed, could cheer him up when he felt down. And, as he had realised when someone once gave him a bouquet of flowers in an attempt to flirt with him, he could even know what something meant in the language of flowers without having to look it up.

Flowers had saved him, had kept him sane, and now they were going to help him live.

Neil worked hard, setting things up how he liked it, putting flowers beside friends until the place looked rather random. He didn’t care, as long as they were happy. Once he’d figured out the paperwork and put in calls to the suppliers, he looked through the cards and other trinkets that apparently kept the shop alive. With a notebook and pen in hand, he went through everything, writing down things he would keep ordering in and dismissing those he found superfluous. By the time he had finished, it was around lunchtime, so he fed his flowers and dragged out some of them who yearned to be seen. He made sure they had enough water and left them in the outdoor display; doing it now meant that he would perhaps draw in customers. When he was finished, he sat on the stool and ate a granola bar, eyeing up the apple he had brought.

No customers had come in all morning, which worried Neil a little. Perhaps people knew that Mrs. Spear had left. Or maybe everyone knew of this place as the witch’s place and had left it alone. Had someone already badmouthed his business before he could get a foothold? Huffing a breath through his nose, he admonished himself for worrying. He shouldn’t really be here, anyway, so he would make the most of it while he could afford to.

Suddenly, the door opened and a tall, nervous-looking man stepped in, glancing around with interest. Neil perked up and set the last chunk of his bar down, hastily swallowing what was in his mouth. He waited, watching the man come in. If the tracksuit was any indication, the man worked at the gym along the road. The tracksuit was white with bright orange pawprints across the breast. Despite what it looked like, the man pulled it off well, even if his eyes were shooting nervously around the shop.

“Uh, hey,” said the guy once he’d spotted him. “Isn’t there usually a woman in here?”

“She’s left,” Neil informed him. “I bought the place with my savings. Were you looking for something?”

“Oh, um, yes, I-” The man grimaced. “Is giving flowers to your sort of boss and absolutely the most stunning woman on Earth a faux pas, or…?”

Neil blinked and stared. “I… I don’t know? Depends on why you’re giving them to her or what you want to say, I suppose…”

“It’s just- Well, look,” the man said, drifting closer until he was leaning against the counter. “This woman, Dan - the assistant manager at the Foxhole Gym - she’s amazing. I’m definitely in love with her. But I am in no way worth her while. But, when I asked Renee and Allison, they said I should tell her what I want to say - ’cause I totally can’t tell her it to her face - in flowers. Can I do that?”

“Well, if you’re more specific, then yes.”

“More specific in my message?”

“Yeah,” said Neil. “I mean, you want to say, ‘you’re amazing’, right?” The man nodded. “And you want to say… probably, ‘I adore you’, rather than ‘I love you’, because-”

“-saying that right off the bat is a bit creepy.”

“Yeah,” Neil agreed. “And I suppose you want to ask her if she feels the same, or…?”

“I’d like to ask her on a date, if that’s possible,” the man said, still hunched in on himself. “And maybe that she’s beautiful all the time, too.”

“Right,” said Neil, already glancing around at his flowers. All of them clamoured to be chosen, though a few rightfully preened instead, already aware that he would be using them in the bouquet. “Let me pick out the perfect ones.”

The man watched as Neil emerged from behind the counter, ignoring his grumbling stomach. He began to pluck his flowers from where they waited, keeping his grip delicate. His first candidate was the camellia, despite the dwarf sunflowers clamouring for his attention. Neil patted them in consolation as they drooped and gathered a handful of the calmer camellia. Then he drifted around the shop, considering the best flowers for the message and the best combination. Some of them bobbed to get his attention, assuring him they were the ones to be picked, but he passed a few of them by until he reached the carnations. The red ones slid into the bunch he had in his hand and he turned towards the roses, glancing over the most common colours. Shaking his head, he reached out to the red roses and murmured to them, asking them to change colour. With their love for him, they changed, darkening their petals until they appeared burgundy. A thank you had the flowers dancing in his palm when he plucked them free from their companions. Finally, he swiped some alyssum on his way back to the desk, behind which were some long stems of grass as well as paper sticks that had been sprayed a dull, metallic bronze. There were other colours, but Neil felt it was the best option. Gently, he laid the flowers on the paper and arranged them as he liked before he wrapped them and tied a bronze bow around it. Finished, he looked up and found the man staring at him in something like awe.

“Um,” said Neil, blinking at him. “That’ll be forty dollars.”

For a moment, the man didn’t move. Then, suddenly, a grin popped onto his face. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “That was amazing! You have magic, too?”

“Ah, um, yes,” Neil replied, uncertainly. For years, he had concealed his magic and what he could do with it. It was unsettling to use it and to speak about it, especially with strangers. He paused, wondering if he should say anything else. Nothing came to mind, so he said, “Is that all?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah.” The man fished out his wallet and started to count out bills. “I’m Matt, by the way. I work in The Foxhole Gym. You should come visit sometime! We do a great discount for our members who work in this part of town.”

"Maybe," said Neil. Usually, he ran through the streets, constantly cataloguing the best routes out of town, despite knowing he would be staying. He could probably use the treadmills, though… 

“Well, even if you don’t, I’ll probably be back for flowers!” Matt declared with a grin. “Have you met the rest of the people in this area? They’re good. Renee’s coffee shop has these vases, so you might meet her next.”

Surprised, Neil said, “How often does she buy flowers? That must be pretty expensive.”

Matt shrugged. “I think she had agreement with another florist before it shut down in the face of competition from here. But I’m not sure what she does now.”

“Hm.” Neil wondered if the agreement was with leftover flowers or if it was flowers in exchange for coffee. He shook himself; it probably wouldn’t be good business practice to hand over flowers without being paid. “I’ll check her place out.”

“It’s called ‘Angel’s Delight’,” Matt informed him. “It’s down the street and to the right.”

Neil nodded and opened his mouth to thank him when there was a clatter and a thud from outside. Startled, he whipped his head around to stare out of the window, his heart hammering and breath short. Both he and Matt stayed still, listening, but all they heard were calm, measured footsteps. Then Neil heard the wails of his flowers and he rushed to the door.

Outside, the bucket of yellow roses had been overturned, water steadily streaming across the sidewalk and pavement. Petals and stems were strewn across the ground as the flowers cried out in pain. Neil’s chest ached and he hurriedly crouched, righting the bucket in a rush. As he gathered up the flowers, he looked along the street and found a man staring at him from two buildings away. His blond hair was ruffled by a soft breeze and the smoke from his cigarette wafted visibly away. The entirety of his outfit was black: jeans, combat boots, low-collared long-sleeved top. Frowning, Neil stood.

“Hey!” he called out. “Did you-?” But the man spun on his heel and stalked off.

Huffing, Neil turned back to his flowers. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Matt hovering in the doorway. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” said Neil with a sigh. He crouched down again and began to gather up the flowers. They cried to him and he comforted them with his magic, reforming lost petals as he placed them into their bucket. “They’ll be fine.”

“Right…” When Neil glanced up, he noticed that Matt was staring in the direction that the stranger had gone. Neil blinked at him for a moment before clearing his throat. Matt startled and visibly shook himself from his thoughts. “Heh. Anyway, thanks for these.” Matt hefted the bouquet. “I’ll let you know if she likes them!”

“You don’t have to-” Neil began.

“See you later…?” Matt paused, tilting his head in question.

Realising that he hadn’t introduced himself, he said, “Neil.”

Nodding, Matt grinned. “Then I’ll see you later, then, Neil!” Matt cheerfully told him as he stepped around the mess on the sidewalk and hurried off.

Neil watched him for a moment before his flowers captured his attention again. He returned to his work, wondering about the kind of place he’d ended up in. Something told him that he wasn’t going to be left to his own devices…

It was at the end of that week when Neil saw the blond man again. He had caught glimpses of him through the window as he passed by, but he only paid attention to make sure that he didn’t throw his flowers around. His flowers, however, were not fond of him, upset at what he had done to the roses. But Neil told them not to hold a grudge and, gradually, they forgot about it.

Matt had been right about Renee. She had come in to order flowers for her tables a couple of days after he had been in and she’d asked for something which would welcome her customers. He arranged some starwort and told her about wisteria, how it had the same message. Renee had looked pleased and asked if he could bring her some hanging baskets. In exchange, she said, she would bring him his lunch every day. Neil had hesitated but ultimately agreed; he would spend less on food and still have a wholesome meal at least once a day.

He met the others by, eventually, doing something a little different. Instead of waiting for them to come to him, Neil decided to introduce himself by giving flowers to the neighbouring businesses under the assumption that they would recommend his shop to their customers. So he met Allison who had a boutique of designer clothes, as well as a second-hand clothing store next door. Apparently, she made sure the second-hand clothes were up to her exacting standards, so much so that they were almost designer themselves. When he popped into the gym, he met Wymack, the owner, and Matt’s Dan who had agreed to a date. Seth owned the music store - he was an asshole and refused the flowers. Neil had returned after hours with a vase and left them outside. They were gone by the next morning but he had the feeling that Seth had taken them inside. A bookshop was owned and run by a man named Kevin who Neil regretted visiting after a couple hour lecture about some history books. He’d still left him with a bouquet that the man displayed on his counter.

All of them consisted of the same flowers. Starwort for welcome to a stranger, a greeting from Neil and an acceptance of them into his life. Freesia and yellow orchids for friendship, a way to convey his tentative intent. Bachelor Buttons and daisies for hope, an unintentional portrayal of Neil’s hope to be able to live out the rest of his life where he now was. Everyone had been enthusiastic when they accepted them, but Neil was sure that they couldn’t hear the flowers, nor that they knew what they meant in floriography. 

Now, he made his way down to the tattoo parlour. Neil blinked up at the name: Pipe Dream. He wondered what it meant, but only paused to consider it for a second before he pushed his way inside. The door opened into a room meant for lounging. Couches were pushed into clusters with low tables between them. A wide doorway led to another room where there was only a chair and plenty of plastic sheeting. Bottles of ink were visible beside it, as was a stand with a tablet attached to it. On the wall to Neil’s right was a graphic of a man holding a pipe, screaming in what looked like pain. Opposite it was a counter upon which the cash register sat. The glass of it showed off the multiple earrings and belly rings and whatever piercing jewellery there was. Tucked beside the register was a small, thin vase displaying a black rose with a sickly pale stem. Above the counter was art clustered around a sign which said, I have been cursed. Don’t expect me to answer.  

Behind the counter, sat the blond man from before. Again, he was in all black. This time, Neil could tell that he was wearing a t-shirt with black armbands. Only a thin strip of skin was on display. His left eyebrow had been pierced three times and filled with black studs. From his right ear, an amber earring dangled. It seemed to bring out the different tones in his hazel eyes as he stared at Neil. Neil stared back. After a while, the man raised his eyebrow.

“Ah. You’re Andrew, right?” said Neil, stepping closer. Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Renee told me. Said I should visit.” He waved the bouquet. “These are for you. Or for the shop. Whichever you want.”

Andrew stared at him for a moment before gesturing for him to come closer. Neil moved forward until he was at the counter. He put down the bouquet as Andrew pulled something out from under the counter. Blinking down at the tablet, he watched as Andrew tapped something before he turned it around. 

Name

“Ah. Neil. I own Flower’s Breath.”

What happened to the previous owner

“She decided to sell. I think she’s moved away.” Neil shifted on his feet. “I- So, I was told that I should come say hi and… I’ve done that.”

Grabbing the flowers, Andrew shoved them towards Neil. The flowers cried out in pain, making Neil flinch. But the message was clear; Andrew didn’t want the flowers. For a split second, Neil thought that maybe Andrew didn’t like flowers. Then he caught sight of that strange rose and he changed his mind. So he took the flowers, ran his hand over them, quietened them and fixed them - and put them back down on the counter.

“It’s a message,” said Neil. “From me to you.” He glanced at the rose. “And I can fix your flower,” he said as he reached towards it. “It looks sickly.”

His hand was a finger’s width away from the flower when a sudden loud bang made him flinch. He spun from the flower, wide-eyed, remembering a distant gunshot. His shoulder throbbed with phantom pain and he winced, stepping away from the counter where Andrew’s fist had landed. Once he had Neil’s attention, Andrew jabbed a finger at the sign behind him. Neil blinked and then nodded, realising that the flower was the reason that Andrew was cursed. Still, he glanced at it, grimacing at its weak cries.

“Why do you have it out in the open if it’s still dangerous?”

Andrew stared at Neil for a moment until, eventually, he typed out a message. Reminder

Neil thought of the cigarettes he bought to remind him of his mother. He thought of the duffel bag that was stuffed under his bed, though he knew he didn’t need it anymore. Looking at Andrew, Neil understood and nodded. “Right. Well. If you need any flowers, you know where to find me.” He glanced at the rose. “Curse-free,” he added.

His words were met by a stony silence and a hard stare. When he was sure Andrew wasn’t going to say anything else, he turned on his heel and left. It was unlikely he would see Andrew at anything other than the get-togethers that Matt threatened. So he put the strange rose and the cursed man out of his mind.

He was in the middle of helping a customer when Andrew walked into his shop the next day. A single glance told Neil that he was tense, though Neil couldn’t think why. His flowers had not been around for as long as Andrew on this street, so they could tell him nothing. So Neil smiled at him and told him he’d be with him soon.

The customer - a tall, gangly guy with a shaved head - stared at the bouquet that Neil had made up for him. “Where are the roses?” he asked, looking confused. 

“You don’t need any of them for the message you want to send,” Neil explained. “This tells her what you want to say.”

“But roses would do the job fine.”

“Well, yes,” said Neil slowly, starting to get frustrated. “But those are more expensive and you said-”

“I know what I said,” the man snapped. “But I just meant that I wanted less of them.”

“I could give you a single red rose,” said Neil, dryly.

Clenching his jaw, the man reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash and slammed it onto the counter. He didn’t pay any mind to the flowers already there and crushed them with the weight of his whole body. Neil flinched away from him as his flowers screamed in agony. “You’ll give me as many as this buys me,” the man growled.

“I-” Neil began.

Suddenly, the man was stumbling backwards as Andrew pulled him away from Neil. The guy spun around, clearly intent on giving whoever was accosting him a piece of his mind. However, when the man got a good look at Andrew’s blank expression, he shrank away from him. Then he turned to Neil, glared at him and snapped, “Fuck this. I’ll just get them elsewhere.” And he grabbed his money - hurting the flowers once again - and left.

Neil turned to Andrew. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Andrew shrugged a shoulder. Then he thrust a tablet at Neil. On it was a message. I want a bouquet with these flowers: yellow carnation, candytuft, cyclamen or Indian cress, ranunculus, sweet pea.

For a moment, Neil stared, confused. From the flowers Andrew had listed, he could tell that whoever was going to receive these wasn’t in his favour, assuming he had had to look them up. The only good message was from the ranunculus. Grimacing, Neil glanced up at Andrew’s blank, indifferent - like the candytuft - face. “Are you sure you want… these flowers?” Neil asked, cautiously.

The only answer that Neil got was a flat look.

"Okay," said Neil with a shrug. He ran his hands over the crumpled flowers on his counter. With a whispered encouragement, they healed and rejoiced. Neil shook his head at their cheers and stepped around the counter. When he looked up, Andrew was giving him an odd look. Neil tilted his head in silent question, but Andrew only turned his head away.

With another shrug, Neil went searching for the right flowers. It was easy enough to pick out the yellow carnations; they practically sang to him in their delight. The candytuft was across the room and he drifted over. They weren’t often picked and they didn’t bother to call to him. Neil could imagine them with little arms folded across their stems - rather like Andrew’s stance at the counter as he watched Neil. Hiding a grin, he picked some before he grabbed some of the sweet pea. After that, it was the ranunculus and then… Neil paused, comparing the flowers to each other and how well they complemented each other. Though he had plenty of Indian cress that was rarely used, Neil apologetically passed them over to take some cyclamen. Then he returned to the counter and held them up for Andrew’s inspection.

Andrew only paid it a cursory glance. Deciding to take that as meaning that the bouquet was fine, Neil looked for some of the grasses to pad it out. But, when Andrew noticed what he was doing, he knocked on the counter and shook his head. So, rather bewildered, Neil wrapped the flowers up and handed them over.

Once again, Andrew didn’t take them. Instead, he held out his card. Neil processed the transaction for him, then tried again to hand over the flowers. But Andrew shook his head, pointed at Neil, spun on his heel and left. For a moment, Neil could only stare after him, but he was soon jolted from his reverie as his flowers rejoiced in being able to be with Neil longer. He pushed his confusion aside for a minute while he found a vase and placed the bouquet inside. Then he stared at it and tried to figure out what Andrew was saying.

As far as Neil could tell, the bouquet meant, I hate you, but I don’t care about you so I’m resigned to having you here. I wish you’d leave. And I find you attractive. The last part made no sense and he wondered if Andrew had been misinformed of the ranunculus’s meaning…

The next day, having mulled it over, Neil decided that he would respond to Andrew’s message. He wasn’t sure why Andrew had decided that he didn’t like him, but an apology bouquet couldn’t hurt. Briefly, he considered just going to the tattoo parlour to apologise, but thinking of that place and that single black rose, he decided that it would be better to take more cheerful flowers. So, before he opened the shop, he flitted around the flowers, plucking certain ones from their buckets.

He started off with snowdrops, for consolation, since there wasn’t really a flower that specifically said ‘I’m sorry’. Usually, a combination did the job fine, so Neil hoped that he could ‘console’ Andrew over whatever he had done wrong. To show how sincere he was in his apology, Neil chose the zephyr flower and the gladioli, making sure they were both similar in their shading so that they would complement each other and make the snowdrops stand out. He added some white jasmine for amiability and the iris for friendship to convey his desire to, at the very least, fix what he’d done wrong in Andrew’s eyes, if not become something more. Once he had all of the flowers, he slipped in some fern and wrapped them in paper, using the fern to convey his sincerity and humility. Hopefully, this would be a good enough apology.

When Renee came over with his lunch - another sandwich - Neil asked her to look after the shop while he delivered the flowers. She readily agreed and Neil made his way down the road. The street was a little busier than the days before and he had to duck his way around people, cradling his flowers carefully against his chest. Still, it didn’t take long until he reached the tattoo parlour and he ducked inside.

Andrew wasn’t behind the counter this time. However, Neil was surprised to see the flowers from before, fitted snugly into a bigger vase. They almost eclipsed the black rose, but Neil’s eyes were still drawn to it and its weak cries. Glancing around, he spotted Andrew bent over another man, tattoo gun in hand. It looked as though the man was getting a tattoo in the inner thigh, though Neil couldn’t see what it was from this far away.

Suddenly, the buzzing sound stopped. Neil jolted a little when Andrew’s eyes snapped up and unerringly found his gaze. Unsure what to do about Andrew’s intense gaze, he lifted the bouquet as a sort of silent greeting. Andrew’s eyes narrowed and he huffed out a breath. The man he had been working on must have felt it because he made a strange noise. The sound made Andrew look down at him. With a couple of taps on his leg, Andrew wheeled himself away and out of sight. He wasn’t away for long; he was soon back with something that looked like cling film which he carefully wrapped around the man’s thigh. Whoever it was murmured something a couple of times, but Andrew either ignored him or silenced him with a look. 

Eventually, both Andrew and the stranger came through to the waiting area. Neil hovered near the flowers, holding the new bouquet and watching them. The tattooed guy spared him a glance that turned into an assessing look. Then he turned to Andrew who was waiting next to the register, his hand held out. 

“How much?” the man asked.

With a bored look, Andrew pointed at the register. 

For a moment, the man frowned, probably a reaction to perceived rudeness. Clearly, he hadn’t paid attention to the message on the wall. Still, he looked, nodded, and pulled out his wallet. He paid with a card and the receipt printed with a noise that cut through the silence. Andrew ripped it off and handed it out to the man before he ducked under the counter. When he reappeared a second later, he was holding out a tub, presumably containing cream. The man blinked at it.

“Do I need to pay for that?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed. Neil couldn’t understand why.

Andrew’s only response was to point to the man’s hand where he still held his wallet - and where he had slipped the receipt. Neil figured that Andrew was telling him that he’d already paid. But the man cursed under his breath and flipped it open. In response, Andrew slammed his hand on the desk and shoved the cream at the man. He let go before the man had a good grip on it and the man fumbled to catch it. Once he had, Andrew pointed at the door and, with a disapproving frown, the man turned on his heel and left.

“Rude,” Neil commented, turning back to Andrew.

The man in question narrowed his eyes at Neil and gestured for him to say or do something.

“Right.” Neil held out the flowers. “You said you hated me. I don’t know why or if I did something wrong - I’m not very good with social situations - so I thought I’d apologise for whatever it was. So, uh, here.” He placed the flowers on the counter and stepped back, waiting for a reaction.

With the same blank expression, Andrew looked down at the flowers and then up at Neil. For a moment, Neil thought that he would at least type something into the tablet. Instead, he lifted his hand and pointed at the door, his gaze intent. Taking that as the dismissal it obviously was, Neil shrugged and left the shop.

Andrew didn’t turn up to buy flowers the next day.

It wasn’t the last he saw of Andrew, however.

Apparently, as soon as someone became acquaintances with the owners of the independent businesses in a five block radius, they became friends with them. With meeting Matt, numbers had been exchanged and invites sent. Neil found himself going to movie nights and bowling and dancing at clubs (though he didn’t do any of the actual dancing). Somehow, Andrew was dragged to them, hovering at the edges unless Renee convinced him otherwise. 

Since Neil often found himself watching the others instead of participating, Neil soon noticed a lot of odd things about Andrew. For one, his curse meant that he couldn’t voice any of his thoughts. To answer people, he would send a text to the person, or send the group a text to voice his displeasure. But people seemed to ignore him or think he meant something else. They didn’t seem to understand what Andrew would say in his concise messages. Not only that, but they would constantly look for a reaction from Andrew for every group discussion. If they didn’t receive a text, they would turn their focus on him, seemingly unaware that Andrew simply had nothing to add or didn’t care. Somehow, Neil could tell. 

With the others constantly doing something and leaving Neil with Andrew, it gave him the chance to learn more about Andrew than was just on the surface. He didn’t like being touched - which Neil completely understood since he could feel uncomfortable about casual touching at times. His favourite food was ice cream, or any sort of sweets, really. Neil saw him eating ice cream more than anything else. Despite everyone believing that he was violent, Neil noticed that he wasn’t cruel, that he was protecting things. Mostly, he protected his twin brother, a doctor in a nearby doctor’s surgery, and his cousin, the second tattoo artist at Pipe Dream. Apparently, his favourite colour was black, but there were bursts of colour on his skin in the form of his own tattoos. His eyes were sharp and calculating and Neil felt seen . Yet, he also felt safe and settled when he was around. Inexplicably drawn to him, Neil spent a large amount of time talking about the places he had been and texting about the years Andrew had spent with his family - even with both of them being reluctant to say too much, Neil felt he knew more about Andrew than any other person he had ever known before.

So, when Neil told someone to leave him alone at Eden’s and the guy didn’t want to take Neil’s rejection as an answer, Andrew was the first one to notice.

They were there for Dan’s birthday. All of the independent store owners were there, as were Dan’s sisters from a previous job. The majority of people were dancing. Andrew had disappeared for a few minutes; Neil assumed he’d gone for a smoke or gone to the toilet. Kevin was holding onto the table - both literally and figuratively - as he made his way through his latest drink. Nicky had tried to get Neil to follow him to the dance floor, but Neil had refused and gathered up empty glasses. He made his way to the bar, determined to actually buy the drinks this time. Sliding the tray onto the counter, he smiled at his flowers that were safely on display behind the bar. 

A sudden presence on his left made Neil turn slightly. He glanced at the man who had slid into the space that had been there. His body betrayed the fact that he used the gym rather a lot. Bulging biceps were on display thanks to his black tank top that also clung to his large abs. Somehow, his head matched his body, though Neil couldn’t imagine what he must have looked like before the weights and the possible drugs. The man’s hair was a stylised mess, dark in the dim lighting of the club. Bright green eyes stared right at Neil as the man leaned his elbow onto the wooden surface of the counter. 

“Hey,” he said, a smile quirking at his lips. 

“Hi…?” said Neil. He glanced towards the barman, wishing it was Roland so he could be saved from the situation, as had happened once or twice before. Then again, those hadn’t exactly been turned into comfortable situations with Roland’s help… But Roland must have been on a break as he was nowhere in sight.

“My name’s Liam. What’s yours?”

“Neil.”

“That’s a nice name. So, what brings you here?”

It took Neil a moment to realise that he was serious. “Uh, buying drinks.”

Liam chuckled and leaned closer. “I meant, to town. I’ve seen you here a couple of times before.” He gave Neil a considering look as Neil tried not to shudder at the thought of someone having noticed and remembered him. There was no need to be afraid of his father, after all. Liam nodded once. “Yeah, you’re pretty, for a dude.”

“Right,” said Neil, wondering when this was going to end.

“So? What are you doing here?”

“I own a flower shop,” Neil told him.

“Oh! Romantic.”

“Not really…?”

“Oh, come on! All those roses…” Liam reached out and took one of Neil’s hands in his. Neil tried to pull away but Liam shifted his hand and linked their fingers together. “Don’t you get to see lots of people who are in love?”

“I… suppose,” said Neil, frowning down at their hands. Liam’s hands were too big and Neil didn’t like it.

Smiling wide, Liam began to run his thumb up and down Neil’s hand. “I can be romantic, too, you know.”

“Really?” Neil raised a sceptical eyebrow. He didn’t find this strange behaviour romantic, if that was what Liam was going for.

“Of course,” said Liam, and lifted Neil’s hand to his lips. He pressed a wet kiss to the back of Neil’s hand, making Neil grimace. Then he pulled Neil’s hand to the side and leaned forward to press his lips against the tip of Neil’s thumb. The wet press of Liam’s tongue made Neil realise that the guy wasn’t taking his disinterest at face value and he tried to pull away from him, scowling. But Liam was stronger and he only pulled Neil’s hand closer until he was sucking on Neil’s thumb. Neil stumbled closer and had to use his other hand to keep himself from falling into Liam, pushing at Liam’s chest.

Before Neil could put his next course of action into effect - kicking the man, hard - a hand appeared on Liam’s bicep and pulled him away. Thankfully, Liam let go of Neil’s hand and he only stumbled into his saviour’s side instead of following Liam. Startled, Neil looked to see that Andrew stood between him and Liam, who had tripped over someone else’s foot and was on his ass. Andrew flicked him a black look and Neil tilted his head in question. Evidently electing to ignore him, Andrew bent down and grabbed hold of Liam.

Neil watched Andrew’s arm flex as he pulled Liam upright with one hand before he shoved him away. 

Seemingly, Andrew’s expression was more than enough deterrent and Liam turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Andrew turned to Neil once they couldn’t see him any more and looked Neil over. Neil raised an eyebrow. “I could have dealt with it,” he insisted, something like admiration warming Neil from the inside.

Andrew dutifully ignored him and raised his hand to gain Roland’s attention.

Unfortunately, the others seemed to realise how often Neil hung out with Andrew. A couple of days after the incident, Neil found himself at a movie night that Andrew couldn’t make because of a family thing. At least, that was what he’d told the others, but Neil was sure that he was actually at his therapist/friend’s place which, thankfully, was where Kevin was with his father and almost step-mom. Then again, Neil mused, he supposed that did make them a rather strange family.

Almost as soon as he’d gotten there, the others had decided to watch a movie called The Room. It looked like the decision had been made before he got there since there was a bundle of plastic spoons that he was told to throw at the TV whenever something really stupid and annoying happened. Neil was perplexed, but he scooped up his portion of the spoons and waited. He was only really paying half a mind to the movie; he was more interested in his new… friends, he supposed. They were having conversations and yelling at the TV and it was… fun. A slow smile spread across his face, small and precious.

Suddenly, Allison paused the movie. “I can’t take it anymore. I need a break.”

Dan snorted. “Really? It’s getting to you that much?”

“I don’t have any more spoons,” Allison pointed out, flicking her hair over her shoulder and sticking her nose in the air.

“You can have some of mine, if you’d like,” Neil offered. He hadn’t understood any of the movie and wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed or just disinterested, so he hadn’t thrown any yet. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Neil,” said Allison with a stunning smile.

“That’s my boy,” added Matt, wiping away a fake tear. Neil rolled his eyes at him. 

“I still have some, too,” Renee pointed out. 

“Thanks, darling,” Allison replied, pinching them from Renee since she was closer. 

“How long do we have to wait before we can hit play?” Dan asked, waving at the remote in Allison’s hand.

“Longer than this. Let’s talk instead. Any news to report?”

Of course, because they all spoke on a daily business, there wasn’t much to talk about. Neil let them talk about customers and gym members. He even joined in a little, mentioning the old man who came for flowers for his 70th wedding anniversary. The others all cooed at that and it devolved into trying to remember whether it was a platinum or diamond anniversary or something else entirely.

Eventually, they tired of that and Allison turned to Neil. “Okay, enough stalling.”

“Uh?” said Neil.

“What’s with you and Andrew?”

“Allison…” said Renee in warning.

“What do you mean?” asked Neil, trying not to shift uncomfortably.

“Well, it’s just that…” Dan began.

“Andrew’s a violent little monster,” Allison interjected. “He’s all… stoic and shit. But you and him are hanging out a lot. Are you…?” She raised her brow suggestively.

Neil frowned. “Andrew’s not that bad,” he said. “He helped me out with that guy at the club, remember?”

“I’ve never seen him help anyone else out like that unless it’s his family,” Matt mused. “I mean, we can take care of ourselves, but he mostly just glares people away.”

“So?”

“Neil, honey,” Dan said, with a fond smile. “We’re saying he’s acting different around you.”

“He’s not,” Neil insisted.

“He is,” Matt said. “Sometimes he doesn’t even look at any of us. But he looks at you all the time.”

This time, Neil shifted uncomfortably. “That doesn’t mean anything…”

“And what about you?” Allison suddenly asked. “You always sit next to him, rather than anyone else. Do you like him?”

Blinking, Neil frowned in thought. “I guess… He’s the same as you guys?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” said Allison. She took a breath to speak, but Renee cut her off.

“Do you mean that he’s your friend?” she asked Neil.

“I- Well… I guess?” Neil answered, grimacing at the way the words had come out.

“Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Dan asked, leaning over from the other couch. 

“I…” Neil’s eyes widened, a pained expression crossing his face. He didn’t know what to say or do in this situation. Before, he would have just ignored whoever was trying to gossip about him. Now, though, these were his… friends. His people.

His family.

“It’s okay, Neil,” said Renee, firmly. “Let’s watch the rest of the movie - Allison doesn’t look as irritated anymore.”

Instead, Allison looked quite smug as she pressed play. As the man - Jimmy? - made some sort of speech on a rooftop, Neil tried to pay attention to it. But, mostly, all he could concentrate on was the way his skin was crawling at being seen and known…

For a long time afterwards, Neil wondered. What was his relationship with Andrew? He was a friend, true, but Neil felt it was more than that. It was like he was drawn to Andrew. Maybe it was because of his curse and the flower that bound it to him. His flower magic responded every single time he strode into the tattoo parlour, begging him to fix it. And he wanted to, more than anything - but Andrew refused to let him touch it, protecting him.

Eventually, Neil decided that Andrew was something to him that the others weren’t. His heart ached afterwards, yearning to be free, just as he had everyday since he’d run from his father. Something inside him told him to tell Andrew about it. Andrew had, after all, realised that something was different. Neil had answered his questioning looks with a shake of the head, knowing that Andrew could tell that there was something he was holding back in their conversations. If anything, he needed to clear the air.

But, as it turned out, Neil didn’t have the right words to explain how much he had come to regard Andrew in the past few months. He grumbled about it to his flowers. How was he supposed to tell someone what they meant to him when he didn’t even know what it was himself? How was he supposed to explain to Andrew that he felt like he understood him, just like Andrew seemed to understand him? Thankfully, the flowers were, as always, smarter than him and they gave him a suggestion that he couldn’t ignore.

Tell him in flowers.

So, when Neil had closed up shop one evening, he found himself pacing around his flowers, trying to feel his way to the message he wanted to send. It unnerved him how he could spend five minutes making the bouquets for his customers, but his own bouquet was taking far longer. Fifteen minutes passed before he tentatively picked out the first one.

The blue salvia was the one he found himself plucking from a bucket. His thoughts instantly turned to Andrew, remembering how the man often seemed to stare at Neil’s horrible eyes. Clearly, the flower was a fitting choice and he took another three of them before he moved on. Since he was thinking about Andrew, he made his way to the wild pansies that were known as heartsease - another flower to tell Andrew that he was thinking of him. Slowly, he built up the rest of the bouquet: a pink camellia to tell Andrew of his longing to be with him; a hydrangea to thank Andrew for understanding Neil and his idiosyncrasies; an ipomaca flower reminded him of how he had attached himself to Andrew; Love in a Mist was added because, despite all he knew about Andrew, he was still confused about things he did. Finally, he ended the message by telling Andrew your qualities surpass your charms and your presence softens my pain with the addition of mignonette and milk vetch. Finally, he wrapped them all up with fern to show his sincerity and hoped it would be enough.

He left them in a vase while he went home and, as soon as he came in the next day, he helped to perk them up before he took them to the tattoo parlour, bright and early. Andrew would be there alone - according to Nicky, he didn’t like getting up to open the place at nine, while Andrew had mentioned how he liked the quiet in the morning when no-one was around. The tattoo artist in question was seated at his counter, the various bouquets from before still sitting in their place. All of the vases had been arranged so that the black rose was the centre of attention, as if Andrew was trying to protect his very core. Neil smiled at the thought and strolled over to where Andrew was waiting, his eyebrow raised.

“It’s a message,” Neil explained. “It’s what I think of you.”

Andrew ran his eyes over them. Neil was sure he saw his eyebrow twitch, which was a sure sign that he was surprised. Slowly, he reached out to the counter and patted it twice, his way of telling Neil to take a seat. Nodding, Neil did as he was told and spun to plant his butt on the glass surface, hopped up and used one hand to spin himself around so that his legs dangled on Andrew’s side. He handed the flowers over.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Neil assured Andrew. “Or do anything. It’s just… confusing. This is the best way to explain my behaviour of the past few weeks.”

Reaching for the flowers, Andrew cast a careful eye over them. He frowned and pointed at a few of them. 

“Love in a Mist,” Neil told him, pointing to them. “Mignonette and that’s milk vetch. Have you never seen them before…?” Neil trailed off when he realised that Andrew had stilled, his eyes flicking over the flowers in that way he did when he was recalling something with his perfect memory.

Suddenly, Andrew dropped the flowers as if they had scalded him. Alarmed, Neil reached out for them, but Andrew grabbed his wrist. Neil startled and jerked hard enough that Andrew let him go. When he looked up, Andrew flicked a finger between them and shook his head.

“What-? I know , Andrew,” Neil said, gripping the counter beneath him. “It was just… an idea.” He looked down at the flowers and realised how silly he had been. Of course Andrew would be upset about this. It was one step short of a love confession, which had not been what Neil had been intending. Something about Andrew had made him go stupid and he bit his lip, sagging a little. “Never mind. I need to go open the sho-”

A loud bang made him jump, his head shooting up as he stared, wide-eyed at Andrew. His eyes locked onto Neil’s and held them. Something deep within the hazel made him think that Andrew wasn’t annoyed at him. Instead, it seemed directed inward, his defences back up after months of them dropping for Neil when circumstances called for it. Andrew reached for the tablet to type out a message and stopped, as if uncertain. Neil had never seen him like that before and his brain went into overdrive.

Clearly, Andrew didn’t think the two of them should be like that. He thought that their relationship, whatever it was, should not exist. But the hesitation meant he either wanted it or didn’t want it to hurt either of them. Which would suggest the opposite. Andrew was resisting his feelings, whatever they were. So… He didn’t think whatever they were becoming to each other would work out or last? Or was it that he didn’t believe Neil? 

Andrew’s eyes seemed to darken as Neil surveyed him. He gestured towards the door and Neil’s eyes caught on the tattoo on his arm, revealed by the ripped tank top he was wearing. A fox snarling at everyone. Once, Andrew had told him that he’d drawn various animals warning off others during his youth in a bid to tell those whose intentions he could feel with his magic to back off. It had never worked and, though he had once dreamed to get to this point when he was very young, he had never once let himself dwell on his dreams.

Pipe dream.  

Neil shook his head. “I’m not going away,” he told Andrew. “I’m real. You’re not dreaming anymore, Andrew.”

Unfortunately, that only seemed to annoy Andrew. He glared at Neil, picked up the bouquet and shoved it at him. Neil quickly healed the flowers and tried to shove them back at Andrew. Folding his arms over his chest, Andrew scoffed and nodded towards the door. Neil stilled, staring at Andrew.

In all the time that Neil had known Andrew, he hadn’t heard a noise come from his mouth, not even a sigh. Yet, Neil had clearly heard the scoff. He could hear Andrew’s breathing, harsh in the relative silence. “Andrew?” Neil breathed, almost too soft to be heard. 

A slight frown took over Andrew’s features. It was a question, clear to Neil as the flowers’ song. Their song about-

Eyes wide, Neil put the flowers he held onto the counter, spun around, hopped off the counter, and took a couple of steps past the register. Then he stopped and stared. Something like relief filled him and he reached out to that single, lonely rose in its vase. Before Neil could touch it, Andrew’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, glaring at Neil and not paying attention to what was happening right in front of him. Neil looked up, amused by Andrew’s irritated demeanour, something he could read even in his blank expression. 

“Look,” he said, pointing at the rose. Andrew narrowed his eyes before he did as he was told. His grip went slack but Neil didn’t bother to pull his arm free. Instead, he watched Andrew’s eyes widen before they narrowed and returned his gaze to Neil. He grinned back at him.

Because, in the vase, sat a wilting red rose, singing its relief and delight to Neil and the flowers around them. 

Neil reached out with his other hand and brushed his fingers over the petals. The rose sprang to attention and began to sing to both Neil and Andrew of love. Wrinkling his nose, Neil returned his attention to Andrew who was still staring at him with narrowed eyes. Neil shrugged a shoulder.

“Your curse is broken,” he said. 

Andrew gave a single nod.

“You never did tell me how to break it.”

With a heavy sigh, Andrew released him. Neil’s skin tingled from the touch. “You don’t need to know,” he said. Andrew’s voice was deep and a little raspy from disuse. It was also a monotone, which Neil thought suited him somehow. Something deep within Neil seemed to settle from the calm words. His chest swelled with… happiness, he thought. 

He grinned. “Hey, Andrew.”

“No.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Get out,” said Andrew, turning his back on Neil.

Laughing, Neil decided to leave him to it. Clearly, he needed a little space to adjust. However, he paused at the door. “Hey,” he said, catching Andrew’s attention. “We can still hang out tonight, right? You said something about ice cream.”

“You don’t even like ice cream,” Andrew replied.

“I know. I’ll see you later, then,” Neil told him. He grinned at Andrew’s flat look and he turned to leave.

Behind him, the flowers were rejoicing, telling Andrew all of Neil’s messages over and over.