Work Text:
Kageyama’s routine was the perfect ritual before going to his favorite place.
Everyday he’d wake up to run, motivated by the sight of pink that chanted the sunrise to him. The street his apartment building was situated on wasn’t a busy one, and the footsteps along the sidewalk allowed for his mind to drift into the landscape of hills and trees.
After that, he’d go back to get a shower, never a boiling hot one. Before grabbing a simple breakfast, he’d choose one of the many same-looking sweaters his closet had to offer. They were all different neutral colors, but he liked wearing a beige one. Finally, he was able to head to his job.
He worked at a flower shop a couple minutes away from home. He usually walked everywhere, and work wasn’t an exception.
He was the only employee of the store, and the owner, Takeda Ittetsu, only managed the financial and administrative aspects. When Kageyama was hired, Takeda left all trust on him. Now, his duties consisted of doing basically anything the other didn’t.
First of all, he opened the store every morning to arrange the flowers on display. He also kept the record for every order made and prepared them himself. Basically, he was all the workforce and customer service of the place.
He loved working there. Not only was he able to put his meticulous hands into something that occupied his mind, but he enjoyed the tranquility of the ambiance.
He made sure to let a soft playlist play during every hour of the day. Once it started, he fell into a world of tones and fragrances; one that didn’t exist past the door and was kept inside the small cristal-walled store.
After organizing everything in the shop —which didn’t take long, as he always kept it top notch— he made sure to take a moment to admire the beauty of the space. Amongst all the colors, he liked to blend into the background, thus the beige sweater.
But between all the petals on the shelves, there was one flower that always stuck to Kageyama. The first day he entered the shop, his eyes were fully drawn to it, always in the farthest corner, smaller than its siblings at each side.
“Okay great, you can start on Monday!” Takeda said. “Do you have any questions before I show you the register and all the fuzz?”
“Yeah... What are those ones called?” Kageyama pointed at the orange flowers in the back.
“Oh, those are Kinmokusei, or Orange Osmanthus. Since the plant is normally used for cooking or medical purposes, and the flowers aren't that known, their sale doesn't usually do that good.”
“Really? I think they’re beautiful... They have a kind of delicate and subtle appeal. You know, not like roses, which are extravagant and overly elegant. Those just seem like the right amount of-“
Takeda was actually listening in with expectant eyes.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He bowed in his seat. “I didn’t want to ramble on about them.”
Takeda smiled at him, “I really think you’ll be exceptional at this.”
He had been right. Kageyama, even if he didn’t appear so, was perfect for the job and the job was perfect for him. Besides not having to deal with a great amount of people, he didn’t let a single detail slip from the flower arrangements.
For every order, he knew the best color ribbon that would combine with the flowers the client needed. If a customer didn’t know what size of vase or flowers would fit their idea best, he could provide the best options.
Weirdly enough, he didn’t really recommend his favorite flowers to any client, unless they specifically asked about them or were already planning on using them. He considered they needed to be protected, secured from the people that didn’t know how to appreciate them. But also, when he did have to include them in an order, he thought of them to be true protagonists of the floral arrangement. Though they were always used as small pops of color, no other flower could outbeat them in beauty,
As he was about to say during the interview, he thought they were the prettiest. Everyday he stepped into the store, his mouth would curve up at the sight of them, and his tenderness became stronger.
In fact, he had decided to set a couple of racemes on a vase of his own, just to place it next to the cash register and brighten up his shifts, more than the whole place itself already did. On days like that one, where there were no orders to deliver and no appointments to attend, he took some time to stare at them and admire their composition.
The petals were distinctive and stubby —especially compared to the best-sellers of the shop, which were long, fragile and thin. The citrus color spoke well of them, and the roundness of their edges brought out the soft touch. They were bright and graceful, small but alluring. Whether they were closed into buds or blossomed to show the center, his eyes absorbed all their charm.
Each floret seemed tiny on his long fingers, but once they were together in a bunch, they played a fascinating melody that gave rapture to his chest.
A stroke.
A delicate contact with a border. All that he needed to let out an exhale and allow his mouth to melt into a smile. The presence of nature and its perfect color to distinguish gave Kageyama a sight of ease.
Autumn. The flower belonged to it, and Kageyama dreamed for autumn to never end.
He had immersed himself long into the colors and barely heard the jingle of the door’s bell, inviting a customer to walk in.
“Good morning, how may I help you today?” Kageyama said out of habit, not lifting his view off the Kinmokusei.
He wasn’t really expecting to interact with anyone that day, but something in the corner of his eyes told him he would be happy to.
His eyes went from the vase to the door, following the short person that had entered. The client’s head moved in all directions slowly, taking in the —probably— overwhelming amount of plants around him. His eyes went wider by the second as he approached Kageyama.
“Hi...” the other responded, still looking around to one of the walls.
Kageyama’s gaze fell to the person —the guy— in front of him, specifically to his hair. He was redheaded, the faint waves curling every strand upwards. The ends shone to be copper, shifting tones where the sunlight from outside hit them. It looked voluminous and soft, unlike his own black head. He didn’t really have bangs, but the hair was messy enough for Kageyama to imagine how he didn't comb through it that morning.
The customer looked at him, and Kageyama could finally see the captivating stare that only ended in his chest contracting.
His eyes were the bark of every forest and the soil that gave birth to all flowers, brown and deep. The eyelashes that protected them were a shade between his hair and his irises, his whole face a palette of colors that finished with sprinkles of freckles. Astounding wasn’t enough to portray the shock that Kageyama’s heart went through.
“I uh... I’m looking for some flowers, but I don’t really know what they’re called,” the ginger said, bringing a hand behind his neck to scratch his head sheepishly, cracking a shy grin.
His voice wound up Kageyama’s earlier mood, his ribcage now rhythmically shaking —and not with the background music.
His mouth wasn’t moving. He knew he needed to respond, help him out, do his job. He knew his throat ought to have made a sound by then, any. But his eyes were completely engrossed in the man before him and his hues.
He was wearing a green sweater, fusing with every leaf there. His smile was as stunning as the rest of him and his squinted eyelids hid the warm shades behind them.
Autumn.
Right in front of him, beaming and talking, asking him something. Shining through his tone and the colors of his mood.
Kageyama thought of autumn and he thought of flowers... his favorite flower. The guy across the counter, the singularity of the unpopular item. They were one.
He pinched himself for his tongue to start moving, “Uh y-yes... Yes! Of course! We’ll find them. What can you tell me about them? Size? Color?”
“Hmmm... I think...” the customer said, drawing his hand back and stroking his chin. He continued to fixate on Kageyama’s eyes, intensely contemplating the employee, not even blinking.
Kageyama felt his knees starting to go weak, his grip on the counter getting tighter and a small drop of sweat wanting to roll down his nape. Not only was the man completely stunning, but his eyes were captivating, beguiling him into an endless tie.
He felt vulnerable in that line of sight. The few seconds that passed in silence felt like years of study and examination. As the other kept their stares connected, he was sure his cheeks started to warm up. For all he knew, he had his thoughts written across his forehead and the other man would be able to read them aloud.
“I think they look like your eyes.”