Work Text:
Saihara ties up a bouquet of flowers, setting it off to the side for his next customer to pick up. He takes a quick look at the clock, confirming that there’s only a few minutes left until his shift ends, meaning he can probably leave after whichever customer ordered the bouquet comes to pick it up.
The door to the shop opens, and he perks up. A stranger with gravity-defying purple hair stomps inside, looking undeniably pissed. Saihara’s immediately wary of the stranger.
“Good afternoon, how are you?” Saihara asks. The stranger gives him a grim smile.
“Just peachy!” He chirps through gritted teeth, and Saihara concludes that he’s not okay.
“That’s… nice,” Saihara remarks, and then gestures to the bouquet he set aside on the table. “Have you come here to pick up, or..?”
The stranger shakes his head, slamming a credit card onto the table. “Nope. I want you to whip up the prettiest bundle of flowers with the worst meanings,” he claims. Saihara pauses.
“Worst meanings?” He repeats, not quite understanding what the other meant. The stranger stares him dead in the eye, and deadpans:
“How do I say ‘fuck you’ in a bouquet?”
Saihara’s eyebrow instinctively twitches in amusement. While that is certainly the oddest request he’s received so far, he can’t help but think that the boy doesn’t look all that menacing. He’s quite… short, for a lack of better words. Pretty cute, too.
Wait. That’s not what I meant.
Saihara nods. “Well, I have a few ideas… but if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is this for?”
The stranger pouts, rubbing at his eyes. “W-well, I get bullied at school, and want to give my bullies something so they can stop. But I still don’t want to give them flowers with good meanings, so why not have ones with bad meanings?”
Saihara instantly feels bad for asking the question. He hums. “I’m sorry about that… I hope it gets better for you.”
The boy brightens. “Haha, that was a lie! I was kidding, you know.”
Saihara blinks. That was a lie..?
“In truth, I’m gonna be visiting my homophobic dad, and you know. Being the wonderfully gay son I am, I’m gonna bring him a pretty bouquet of flowers that tells him to fuck off!”
Saihara feels a bead of sweat form on his forehead. A homophobic dad? That has to be hard… Saihara’s glad that his own parents supported him when he came out as bisexual. “T-that’s not much better than getting bullied… but I have a few ideas for flowers you can get.”
The stranger beams. “Sweet! I’m Naegi Makoto, by the way.”
Saihara snaps his gaze to the stranger. “Naegi-kun’s my manager,” he says. The stranger giggles.
“Oops, I should’ve figured you’d find me out. Fine then, I’m Ouma Kokichi! I feel like we’ll see each other around,” the stranger (Ouma?) says. Saihara stares at him skeptically, and Ouma(?) picks up his credit card, where his name is written down. And, while Saihara thinks for a split second that it might be someone else’s credit card, he erases the thought, because he does not want to deal with identity theft now.
“I’ll prepare something for you, I’ll be back,” Saihara tells him, and Ouma nods.
Saihara goes to the back and picks out a few flowers, then returns to the front to pick out more. He rounds them all together, holding it underneath him to assess whether or not it looks good enough. When he decides the flowers are satisfactory, he wraps it up with blue plastic, and returns to the register.
“How does this look?” He asks, holding it out to Ouma. Saihara sees a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but figures that his eyes are playing tricks on him, because:
“How disgusting! They don’t look pretty at all!” Ouma claims. Saihara flinches, surprised.
“O-oh. Really?” He asks. Ouma nods, but then, smirks.
“That was a lie again! Don’t worry, Saihara-chan, it looks great, and that’s the truth!” Ouma chirps, and smiles happily.
“Saihara-chan…?” Saihara echoes, to which Ouma points at his shirt.
“You have a tag! That’s your name, right?” Ouma asks. It clicks, and Saihara almost facepalms himself for being stupid.
“Y-yeah. That’s my name,” he confirms. Then, Saihara holds the flowers out to Ouma. “Would you like me to explain the meanings for these flowers?” He offers. Ouma stays silent for a moment, staring at the bouquet thoughtfully, before nodding.
“Sure thing! I have to know what I’ve got in store, after all,” Ouma agrees.
“Okay,” Saihara mumbles, pointing to a small section that comprises of small yellow flowers. “These are buttercups, and they symbolize ingratitude and unfaithfulness.”
Then, his finger hovers over a section comprised of larger, fluffier yellow flowers. “These are yellow carnations. They represent disappointment and rejection.”
Next, a section with pink-purple flowers. “These are petunia, symbolizing deep resentment and anger.”
Finally, a section with flowers of a pretty pink shade. “And then these are cyclamen, representing farewell and good riddance.”
Saihara looks at Ouma to see him staring at the bouquet in awe, but the purple-haired boy’s gaze snaps back up to meet his own mere moments after.
“Wow, good job, Saihara-chan!” He praises, and sounds genuinely satisfied. Saihara feels his cheeks heat up a bit.
“It’s not a problem, really,” he mumbles. Ouma looks away for a moment, before brightening like he has an idea.
“Hey, I have one more request,” he pipes up. Saihara hums.
“I’m listening,” Saihara says. Ouma nods.
“Could you get me a flower that means ‘beauty?’” He asks. Saihara stares at him blankly.
“Beauty? Is this for a significant other, or…?” Saihara trails off, prompting the other to answer, but he only recieves a smirk in response.
“You’ll see. Just a flower that represent beauty would do,” Ouma claims. A bit confused, Saihara agrees.
He returns to the register with a single amaryllis, wrapping it in pink paper.
“This flower means strength and beauty. Is that okay with you?” Saihara nods, and Ouma nods eagerly.
“Yep, yep! That’s it for me too,” he says, pushing his credit card closer. Saihara hands him the amaryllis, and then proceeds with the checkout procedure.
Right after he finishes, Ouma calls out to him. “Hey, Saihara-chan,” he says, and then pushes the amaryllis back to him. “This is for you!”
Saihara blinks, confused. “Do you not want it, or?” He asks, and Ouma shakes his head.
“No, it’s for you,” he repeats, with extra emphasis on “you.” Saihara takes about five seconds to process the words, before his cheeks heat up.
“Oh,” he answers dumbly, at a loss for words. “This is for me?” Ouma nods again, huffing.
“Yeah, that’s what I said, Saihara-chan,” he confirms. Saihara opens his mouth to speak again, before Ouma abruptly turns around. Saihara doesn’t miss the light tint of pink staining the shorter boy’s cheeks.
“I gotta go now, Saihara-chan!” Ouma exclaims, clutching the bouquet close to his chest. Saihara tries to call out to him, but before he can, the other races out of the shop.
Saihara stares back to the single amaryllis he has clutched in his hand. The primary meaning of the flower… beauty. Had Ouma just called him beautiful?
It only occurs to Saihara moments later that he’s still holding on to Ouma’s credit card.
Fuck.
The next day, as he walks to open up the flower shop, he notices a familiar head of purple hair by the entrance. It’s Ouma, eyes glued to his phone and a hand shoved into his pocket.
“Ouma-kun?” Saihara calls, swinging his keys in his hand. Ouma looks up, and beams.
“Hey, Saihara-chan! I forgot something here yesterday, didn’t I?” He remarks, pocketing his phone. Saihara remembers. Yeah, his credit card.
“I left it in the shop yesterday, we can go inside and get it,” Saihara offers, beginning to unlock the front. Ouma hums, and walks inside with him as soon as the door’s unlocked.
Saihara quickly heads to the register, pulling out the card from a locked drawer. It was a safety precaution, because he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally lose it while having it on himself.
Ouma starts to speak. “By the way, my dad loved the bouquet from yesterday! He said it was pretty and everything, but of course, I didn’t tell him what it meant.”
Saihara’s lips quirk into a smile, amused. “That’s nice. Let’s hope he never figures out.” They fall into a comfortable silence as Saihara locks the drawer again, turning on the lights.
A few moments of silence, and Ouma speaks up again. “Saihara-chan, can I have a flower that represents innocence?” Ouma asks suddenly, and Saihara pauses.
“…Sure?” He replies. It’s another odd request, but simple enough to fulfill.
He heads to the back to grab a bundle of freesia, wrapping it in white plastic. As soon as he finishes the checkout procedure, he hands the flower to Ouma, who holds up a hand to stop him.
“It’s for you, Saihara-chan!” Ouma remarks cheekily, sending him a bright smile. Saihara’s face reddens, and he looks away, embarrassed.
“A-again? Why?” He asks, confused. Ouma nods, winking.
“It’s a secret,” he whispers, and then begins to head out, making sure to remember his credit card this time. “I’ll see you again sometime, my beloved Saihara-chan~!” He sings.
Beloved Saihara-chan? His brain halts, and he’s just barely able to choke out a goodbye before his face fills with heat.
…What entity decided to send a customer that was not only cute, but also most definitely trying to court him?
(Later that day, after his shift, he heads out to buy a flower vase. He sets the flowers he received form both today and the day before into the glass vase, and decides that maybe, he doesn’t mind that Ouma’s trying to court him.)
It isn’t until a week later, that Ouma comes back to the shop. That day, his co-worker, Amami, is working on the shift with him.
The shorter boy waves to him happily, greeting him with a wide smile. “Good afternoon, Saihara-chan!” He chirps. Saihara smiles.
“Hey, Ouma-kun. How can I help you today?” Saihara asks, brushing a stray lock of hair to the side. Amami watches the two of them interact, looking curious.
“I need you to whip up something for me again, today!” Ouma informs him, dramatically splaying his form over the register.
“What is it?” Saihara questions, amused. Ouma frowns, looking disgruntled.
“Can you make a bouquet that looks ugly, but has a good meaning?” He asks. Saihara raises an eyebrow. This request is even weirder than the first.
“Uhh… who would this be for?” He honestly doesn’t think there’s a specific type of flower that’s ugly… but he can jumble up a bunch of random colors that sound like they will look ugly together.
“An underling,” Ouma answers. “A real slut, too. She told me she needed them to impresses someone or some shit.”
Saihara tilts his head. “An underling?” He muses. Are you the leader of an organization of some sort?”
Ouma nods eagerly. “The evil supreme leader of a super secret evil organization with over 10,000 members!” He exclaims. Saihara’s almost certain that that’s a lie.
“Is that so?” Saihara asks, playing along. Ouma hums, smirking.
“I mean, you could join too, if you’d like,” Ouma offers. Saihara shakes his head, chuckling.
“I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer, though,” he say, and then pushes himself off the counter. “I’ll see what I can do about those flowers, though. There’s no single flower that I really find ugly here, but there are a few colors that don’t match well together.”
Ouma gives him a thumbs up. “Saihara-chan should mix some brown and green flowers together, they’re bound to look ugly, then,” he remarks, and Saihara lets out a small huff of laughter.
Shortly after, he returns to the register, holding together a bouquet of flowers. Brown, green, and pink. The colors may have sounded pretty bad in his head, but… they surprisingly turned out to look mediocre. Hopefully Ouma doesn’t mind.
He wraps the bouquet with yellow plastic this time, and presents it to Ouma.
Ouma stares at the bouquet for a few long moments, eyes narrowed, before he sighs. “Wow, Saihara-chan, you can somehow use those colors and still make a pretty bouquet. I’m impressed, and that’s the truth!”
Saihara smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry? I just can’t seem to make it look bad.”
Ouma waves a hand dismissively. “Eh, the slut will be happy that it turned out somewhat good, considering it’s a gift from me,” he comments, “What do they mean?”
Saihara turns the bouquet over towards Ouma’s direction. “Well, these are brown roses,” he begins, pointing at the light brown flowers, “and they represent friendship.”
He moves the roses to the side just a bit, and points out the section of green flowers. “Green crysanthymums, symbolizing friendship and well-fortune.”
The last section comprises of light pink flowers. “These are pink begonia. They represent peace and thankfulness.”
Saihara looks up to catch Ouma staring at him with curious eyes. He blinks, and so does Ouma.
“Saihara sure knows a lot about flower language, huh?” Ouma remarks, giggling. Saihara laughs breathily.
“I guess I do,” he answers, “it’s part of my job, after all.”
Ouma nods, handing over his credit card. “Also, I have one more thing I’d like to get.”
Saihara already has a creeping suspicion about what the thing might be. Another flower, perhaps? “Okay, what is it?”
Ouma props an elbow on top of the counter. “A flower that represents admiration,” he responds, a glint of something in his bright purple eyes. The first thing that does to mind is camellia.
“I’ll be right back,” Saihara whispers. Based off the last two times Ouma had asked for a single flower, he can only assume now that Ouma plans on giving the flower to him.
But why admiration?
Saihara returns with a white camellia, wrapping it in pink plastic and presenting it to Ouma. “White camellia,” he explains, “affection, admiration, and adoration.”
Ouma beams. “Even better! Those perfectly describe what I need,” he exclaims. As soon as Ouma pays for the flowers, he unsurprisingly hands the white camellia back to Saihara.
“For you, my beloved~!” He sings. Saihara blushes.
“O-Ouma-kun. Why exactly do you keep giving me flowers?” Saihara asks. Ouma’s stares at him in amusement.
“Does Saihara-chan not appreciate the gift?” He says teasingly. Then, his expression warps into something sadder. “I-I didn’t know my efforts have gone unappreciated.”
Saihara waves his hand frantically. “No! I appreciate it, it’s just, uh, why me?”
Ouma raises an eyebrow at that question. Then, he leans in. “You’re the flower specialist, am I right? You can figure it out: why would I give you flowers with those specific meanings?”
And with that, Ouma hurries out of the shop, waving a quick goodbye to him. Saihara stands behind the register, frozen, and cheeks hot.
“Looks like you got an admirer, Saihara-kun,” Amami says, chuckling. He winces. He forgot Amami was there to witness the whole thing.
“I-I guess you’re right?” It comes out as more of a question. Amami returns from where he was setting up flowers, to stand next to him behind the register.
“What do you think of him?” Amami asks. Saihara blinks.
“W-what do I think of him?” He repeats, feeling embarrassed. In all honesty, he’s intrigued. He’s never had such an interesting customer appear at the flower shop, and Ouma is definitely attractive. It’s only been a good week since they’ve met, and Saihara’s already thought about the other much more than he probably should’ve.
“Yeah. Do you like him?” Amami questions. Saihara brings his gaze to the white camellia he has in his hand.
Admiration, adoration, and affection.
His brain short-circuits, and his blush intensifies.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I think I might?”
He gives himself a pat on the back for even admitting that, because he’s likely the most inexperienced person ever when it comes to dating. Amami laughs.
“Well, you should ask him on a date sometime, you know?” He suggests, and Saihara’s mouth drops. His gaze snaps to his co-worker, horrified.
Amami shrugs. “Just a suggestion, Saihara-kun,” he says teasingly. And for some reason, when Amami said ‘Saihara-kun,’ Saihara’s brain directly translates it to ‘Saihara-chan~!’ in Ouma’s bright, bubbly voice.
He sets down the flower carefully, rubbing his temples. Okay, he admits, he might have a bit of an attraction to Ouma.
(Later that night, he sets the white camellia in his vase. He stares at the other flowers for a while, too: the amaryllis and freesia.
Amaryllis… beauty. Freesia… innocence.
So, Ouma thinks he’s beautiful, innocent, and feels some sort of questionable affection for him?
It’s safe to say, Saihara stays up most of the night, thinking about bright purple eyes and mischievous smirks.)
He doesn’t hear or see Ouma for two weeks after being gifted the white camellia. After those two weeks without seeing the shorter boy, though, Saihara sees him enter the flower shop, being dragged by a pretty blonde girl. A girlfriend?
(He ignores the slight prick of jealousy he feels. It’s okay if Ouma has a girlfriend.
Oh, wait. He’s gay.)
Not a girlfriend.
“Oi, you little shit, is this the guy you’re talking about?” The girl asks, staring directly at Saihara. He stares back, confused, as Ouma pulls away from her grasp and smacks her.
“You slut! Shut up!” He hisses, a faint blush staining his cheeks. She clicks her tongue, looking annoyed, and looks away.
Saihara clears his throat, drawing the attention of the two who just entered. “U-um. Can I help you?” He asks. The girl stomps up to the register, slamming a hand onto the counter.
“You know, this little pussy of a friend of mine wants to—” she begins, before Ouma quickly pushes her aside, taking her place at the counter.
“Hey, Saihara-chan! The whore just wants some flowers to get for her girlfriend, I have no idea what she’s spouting about me!” He exclaims, voice a higher pitch than it usually is.
“Flatty? She’s not my girlfriend!” The girl practically shrieks, and Ouma snorts.
“Not yet,” he retorts, earning him a loud curse that Saihara definitely didn’t expect to hear today.
“S-so, for a girlfriend, huh? What’s your name?” Saihara asks her, trying to steer them back to the original topic. Iruma huffs, crossing her arms.
“I’m Iruma Miu,” she declares, “wingwoman for the one and only O—”Her mouth shuts instantly when Ouma sends her a sharp glare. Saihara doesn’t think he wants to hear the rest of the sentence.
“Okay.” Saihara turns to Iruma, who looks half about to strangle Ouma. “Would you like me to fix up a bouquet for you?” He asks. Iruma grumbles, nodding.
“Yeah, because apparently, you’re the best florist in town, and you’re the one who somehow combined brown, pink, and green flowers for me and still made them look pretty,” she explains sarcastically. She looks pointedly at Ouma, who has a very sadistic smile on his face. Saihara’s almost scared that they’ll break into a fight in the middle of the shop.
Iruma shrugs suddenly, backing away from the register. “Anyways, I’m going to go look around a bit while you prepare or whatever, because, in the shota’s words exactly, you’re a ‘good fucking florist,’” she says, and Saihara detects a teasing tone behind her words. She walks off, heading towards a corner of the room filled with yellow flowers.
“I’ll go pick out some, I’ll be right back,” Saihara says. Ouma nods, staring absentmindedly at the wall behind him. Saihara almost asks why, but decides that maybe he should let the other think.
Saihara heads off to collect the best bouquet he can that represents adoration and happiness for a couple. He makes sure that the colors blend nicely, and adds a few small unbloomed buds for a finished effect.
He returns to the front with the large bouquet, and sees that neither Iruma or Ouma are at the register. He looks around, and spots Ouma and Iruma staring at a specific section of flowers. Saihara shrugs to himself, and then proceeds to wrap the flowers with a light pink plastic.
Iruma and Ouma head back after a few moments, and to Saihara’s surprise, Ouma’s holding a lavender rose in his hand.
“I’m gonna get this, Saihara-chan,” he informs him, and Saihara nods.
“With this bouquet, or separate?” Saihara asks, pointing to the finished bouquet. He hears Iruma let out a gasp from beside Ouma, and Ouma shakes his head.
“Separate,” he answers, and Saihara nods.
Lavender rose… he swears he’s learned of the meaning of the specific flower, but it refuses to come to mind now. Why is Ouma getting one, anyways? And this time, Ouma hadn’t even had to ask about the meaning of the flower.
Maybe it’s intentional?
He wraps the single lavender rose with a piece of purple plastic that compliments the color. Ouma grins as soon as Saihara hands it to him.
“Thanks, my beloved,” he chirps, and Iruma chokes from beside him.
“Virgin,” she wheezes. Ouma elbows her hard in the rib, and she squeals, yelling a loud curse. She runs at her side, disgruntled.
Saihara faces the bouquet towards Iruma. “Do you think this looks okay?” He asks. Iruma blinks, before scoffing.
“Well, from someone who looks like a virgin emo, it’s definitely beyond satisfactory,” she says. Saihara’s mind blanks for a second. Virgin emo? What’s wrong with these two and their crafty insults…?
“You’re scaring him, you know,” Ouma mutters, biting a fingernail. Iruma snorts.
“Of course you’d care,” she claims, smirking. Ouma smacks her shoulder again.
“I-I can explain the flowers to you,” Saihara remarks. Iruma stares at the flowers for a moment, eyes narrowed, before nodding.
“Mhm. Sure,” she mumbles. Saihara breathes out a sigh of relief, before begining.
He points out each flower type, and explains their respective meanings.
“Pink roses. Gratitude, adoration, and admiration.”
“Violets. Loyalty and modesty.
“Sunflowers. Happiness and warmth.
“Iris. Wisdom, hope, and trust.
“And finally, these are daffodils. A new beginning.”
Iruma stares at him in something akin to shock, before poking Ouma.
“Marry him.” She deadpans, and Saihara splutters.
“W-what?” He asks, and Ouma turns a pretty shade of red. Iruma rolls her eyes, her hands on her hips.
“I mean, you two are obviously—”
Ouma speaks over her loudly. “Iruma-chan, if you say one more word, I will get Kuzuryuu-chan to end your whole bloodline,” he threatens.
Iruma shuts up.
Saihara can’t help but wonder about what she meant by what she said earlier, and he certainly can’t deny the fact that she literally told Ouma to marry him. He decides it’s a problem for later.
Iruma and Ouma pay for their respective items with no further complaints. Right as Iruma begins leaving, Ouma lingers for just a bit.
“Ouma-kun? Is something the matter?” He asks. Ouma opens his mouth, but then shuts it. His lips thin into a line and then returns to a grin.
“Don’t think too much about this,” he whispers, before pushing the lavender rose into Saihara’s chest. Saihara instinctively reaches to grab it before it falls, and his gaze snaps to Ouma, who simply winks, before retreating.
Saihara stares at the rose. He’s not really surprised by the fact that Ouma gave him the rose, but more by the fact that Ouma hadn’t asked for what it symbolizes beforehand. And Saihara has to be honest, he completely forgot about the meaning of the lavender rose.
He’ll search it up later. After his shift.
(As Saihara sets the lavender rose into the vase, he pulls out his phone. He searches for the meaning of the leavender rose, and the first answer he comes up with is:
“Love at first sight.”
He stares at his phone screen for a good five minutes after that, before having an internal crisis and calling Akamatsu, his best friend.
He then learns that Akamatsu now has a girlfriend, by the name of Iruma Miu. And he remembers specifically of the foul-mouthed customer he’d encountered today with Ouma.
He also learns from Akamatsu that Iruma has a purple-haired friend that happens to have a huge crush on a florist nearby. This reminds him of the interaction he watched today between Iruma and a certain purple-haired boy he knows of.
He connects the dots, and then realizes:
Ouma likes him. And Saihara’s almost certain he likes Ouma back.)
Saihara waits with anticipation the next few weeks, for the next time Ouma will arrive. He’s almost certain that the other will, based off his goodbye to him the last time he stopped by.
Sure enough, four weeks, almost a month, later, Ouma returns. But he certainly isn’t expecting Ouma to arrive, soaked from the rain outside, and bundled up in a bulky hoodie. In the middle of summer.
“Ouma-kun?” He asks, surprised, leaving the counter to help the smaller boy. Ouma holds out a hand in warning, and then turns his head, sneezing.
“Hey, Saihara-chan,” he greets, but his voice sounds raspy and hoarse. Saihara understands now. Ouma’s sick, isn’t he?
“Why did you come here in the rain, Ouma-kun?” Saihara asks. Ouma pouts.
“I was just lingering around and it started pouring!” Ouma complains, and Saihara honestly doesn’t have any idea if it’s the truth or a lie.
“You’re sick, too,” Saihara murmurs. Suddenly, he has an idea.
He makes a beeline for the back of the shop, and grabs his hoodie that’s sitting on one of the chairs. He returns to Ouma, holding out the hoodie.
“You should change into this, we wouldn’t want your cold getting worse,” Saihara suggests. Ouma stares at him blankly, before his eyes trail back to the hoodie.
Ouma blows a stray strand of wet hair out of his eyes, sighing. “If Saihara-chan really wants to see me wearing this hoodie so bad, I guess, nishishi!” He giggles. Saihara points out the bathroom, and lets Ouma change.
Saihara pulls out a clean towel from the storage room, waiting for Ouma to come out. The shorter boy reappears minutes later, hoodie tossed over his shoulder.
“Saihara-chan has a big hoodie,” Ouma sniffles, and then pulls the hood up and over his head. Saihara feels his heart constrict slightly because Ouma has no reason to be looking so cute in an oversized hoodie.
“Are you warm enough?” He asks, taking Ouma’s hoodie from him. Ouma’s eyes linger on him for a while, before dropping to the floor.
“Yeah. If Saihara-chan gets sick, though, don’t blame it on me,” he warns. Right after that statement, he sneezes.
Saihara shakes his head, smiling. Well, Ouma does have a point, he may very well be sick, now, too… but Saihara can’t. bring himself to simply walk away.
“Even if I do get sick, I can just take a few days off,” he points out. Then, he pulls out his phone to check the time. “My shift ends in a few minutes, and I’m pretty sure that no one else is going to come. Do you have a way home?”
From the way that Ouma adverts his gaze and pouts, Saihara concludes that he doesn’t. The rain doesn’t seem to want to cease either, so…
“I can bring you home,” Saihara offers before he can stop it from slipping. Ouma’s gaze snaps up to his.
“Is Saihara-chan gonna bribe me with candy or something?” He teases. Saihara smiles sheepishly.
“Well, I don’t have candy, but…” An idea makes its way into his head. He’s thought about it before, but now that he’s alone with Ouma again, he decides that maybe he can proceed with the idea.
“I’ll be back, Ouma-kun,” he says, “I just need to grab something.”
Ouma blinks, before sneezing again “Don’t leave me here, because if you do, I’m sending my organization after you!” Ouma warns, and then plops onto a chair.
Saihara feels his heart rate beginning to pick up, darting around the shop to pick up a few bundles of flowers. This idea of his is only half-baked, so he’ll have to figure out the rest as he goes.
Amaryllis? Check.
Freesia? Check.
Brown roses? Check.
Green chrysanthemums? Check.
Pink begonia? Check.
White camellia? Check.
Pink roses? Check.
Violets? Check.
Sunflower? Check.
Iris? Check.
Daffodils? Check.
Saihara heads to the final section of the shop, pulling out exactly five lavender roses. For each of Ouma-kun’s five times coming here, he thinks. He reorganizes the flowers so that the lavender roses are directly in the center, with all the other flowers branching out from the sides. When he’s satisfied with his placement, he heads back to the counter to prepare them.
He wraps the bouquet with purple plastic, the same shade of purple as Ouma’s hair. He ties it with a purple ribbon, and leans back to assess how it looks.
Satisfactory. This is good enough.
He pulls out his phone, checking the time again. His shift is over now. He notices Ouma watching him curiously from where he’s seated at the side.
“Watcha doing, Saihara-chan?” Ouma calls. Saihara straightens, grabbing his car keys, and holds the bouquet to his side.
“It’s nothing. Let’s go, Ouma-kun,” he replies. Ouma’s gaze lingers on the flower bouquet for a moment, before he stands up on wobbly feet, grabbing his soaked hoodie. As soon as Ouma reaches him, Saihara holds the bouquet to him, staring at the ground.
“…I didn’t buy this, Saihara-chan,” Ouma points out. Saihara winces, cheeks flooding with heat.
“It’s a gift. For you,” Saihara answers, eyes still cast on the ground. Ouma is silent for a few moments, before he takes the bouquet. Saihara looks up, surprised.
“Nishishi, I almost thought Saihara-chan was confessing his undying love to me!” Ouma teases. “I mean, if this is simply out of appreciation for all the flowers I’ve given you, don’t you think it’s a bit much?”
Saihara rubs the back of his neck nervously. “It’s more than just out of appreciation,” he insists. “Do you remember the meanings of all the flowers?”
Ouma blinks, before casting his gaze to the bouquet. “Of coooourse I didn’t remember all of them,” he drawls, but Saihara notices a flicker of recognition pass his eyes. Ouma’s eyes narrow and seem to zone in on the lavender roses, and Saihara holds his breath.
“…?” Ouma brings his gaze to Saihara, a question in his eyes.
”Is this what I think it is?”
Saihara bites his lip, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact with the other. Slowly, he nods.
Lavender roses: love at first sight.
Vaguely, he recognizes Ouma’s face warp into several emotions. Surprise, disbelief, confusion, and finally, something that Saihara figures is content.
“Wow, Saihara-chan’s such a sap!” Ouma exclaims, holding the bouquet closer to himself. “Confessing through flowers? You must really like me, nishishi!”
Saihara blushes fiercely, coughing into his fist. “But you were doing the same?” He points out. At that, Ouma’s face colors just slightly, and the shorter boy turned away, pouting. There’s an awkward silence for a moment, before Saihara breaks it.
“…I was thinking. After your cold is gone, would you like to go on a date? I don’t know nearly enough about you than I’d like,” Saihara mumbles shyly. He almost thinks that Ouma doesn’t hear him, but Ouma’s ear twitches as indication of him listening.
“Going on a date with me? You should be honored, Saihara-chan,” Ouma claims. Saihara feels a cold hand wrap around his own, and brings his gaze down to see his and Ouma’s interlocked hands. He brings his gaze back up to stare into Ouma’s eyes, and sees them glinting with an uncanny amount of excitement, despite him currently having a cold.
“Y-yeah,” Saihara breathes, taken aback by how attractive Ouma looks up close. He can see the way Ouma’s eyelashes frame his purple eyes perfectly, and his eyes unwillingly travel to rest on Ouma’s lips.
They look soft…
Ouma seems to notice his staring, and then holds his bouquet to the side just barely. He stands on his tiptoes, leaning in towards Saihara’s face, and Saihara feels a soft peck on his cheek.
They are really soft…
Saihara’s lips part in embarrassment, and he lets out a small squeak. Ouma giggles, and although the sound is a bit nasally from the cold, Saihara swears he wouldn’t mind hearing it every day for the rest of his life.
Hesitantly, he tightens his grip on Ouma’s hand, his other hand hovering over the cheek Ouma had kissed earlier. Ouma grins at him, hair peeking out just barely from underneath Saihara’s hoodie.
Goddamnit, Saihara’s almost a hundred percent sure he won’t survive with Ouma as his date.
(But secretly, he’s fine with that.)