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Byleth would hesitate to admit it out loud, but she'd become a creature of habit since starting her job as a teacher at Garreg Mach High School. Her days, once chaotic with lack of structure, had taken on the shape of a comfortable routine. She awoke early each morning to travel to work and spent most of the day teaching classes. Three o'clock to five was reserved for homework club and any extra tutoring her students required of her. Then, finally, she returned home to relax, ready for another day.
That was except for Wednesdays, when she had one extra appointment.
Blooms & Beans sat on a quiet street a ten minute walk from the school, sandwiched between a second-hand shop and a haberdasher's. The glass front was an explosion of colour, filled with flowers of every shape and shade meticulously arranged on stands. The display changed every week, and one of the highlights of Byleth's visit was pausing outside the window to take in the new composition. Often, it was themed around a colour: hyacinths and forget-me-nots in shades of blue, or roses, camellias and peonies that coloured the whole window red and pink. One of her favourites so far was the one from the week of the harvest festival back when she'd first joined the school, when the flowers had been shades of gold and brown and interspersed with ears of wheat and leafy sprigs from the local trees.
Yet as gorgeous as the flowers were, they weren't the reason why Byleth visited so religiously week in, week out.
His name was Claude, and he was the owner of Blooms & Beans. Byleth had never considered herself a hopeless romantic – she was always too busy with her work to even think about the prospect of falling for someone – but with Claude, she was happy to make an exception. Everything about him, from his effortless good looks to the smile he always gave her as she walked in through the door, soothed Byleth's soul in a way nothing else could.
“Hey there, Teach!” he'd say to her. “Milk and two sugars?”
And every time, Byleth would struggle to hide the blush on her cheeks as she nodded and responded with, “You know me too well.”
That was another thing she liked about Blooms & Beans – as its name suggested, the shop doubled as a cafe. Well, in a way. The single coffee machine behind the counter was barely a kitchen, and the two lone tables and four chairs pushed into the corner could hardly be considered a proper seating floor. Still, she was glad it existed all the same, because this was her favourite part of her routine: sitting at one of the tables, sipping her coffee and watching Claude go about his business over the top of her book.
She couldn't remember when her feelings for him had become so complicated. The first time she'd visited this place by pure chance on her first week on the job, she'd been struck by his friendliness and willingness to help her settle into what had been, at the time, a nerve-wracking new chapter in her life.
“You're new in town, aren't you?” he'd asked her.
Byleth had dragged her eyes away from the stag antlers on the wall above the counter and given him a polite smile. “Is it that obvious?”
Claude had laughed. “Garreg Mach is a small town. Everyone knows one another here, and I'd remember a face as pretty as yours if I'd seen it before.”
At the time, Byleth had met his attempt to flirt with a grimace, despite the way her heart had jumped. “Is that your business model? Flatter the customers so they'll buy your flowers?”
“How do you suppose this place is still up and running?” With that same infectious smile on his face, Claude had reached under the counter and come up with a mug. “You like coffee, don't you? It's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”
As she'd watched him prepare her drink, Byleth couldn't help but feel impressed by the mastery with which he ran things. The same could be said of the way he dealt with customers. Though his youthful face and thin beard placed him in his mid-twenties, his professionalism and ease with solving even the most pinickity of requests made him seem much older. Nothing was ever too much for him. If a customer wanted a bouquet made up for a special occasion, it would be done; if another asked for a particular type of flower the shop didn't stock, Claude would have it ordered in for the following week.
“Do you really run this place all by yourself?” she asked him once.
“I have a couple of staff who help me in the mornings,” he replied. “Another who comes in on the weekends when it's busier. Apart from that, it's just me.”
As if that wasn't impressive enough, his answer when she asked about the displays in the window floored her.
“Yup, that's all me, too. I close the shop early every Sunday and spend the evening setting up for the next week. Do you like them?”
Byleth nodded eagerly. “They're gorgeous.”
Claude thanked her with a grin. “They've become something of a talking point for the town over the years. As long they make people smile, I'm happy to carry on doing them.”
“I'd better come back next week and see what you come up with next, then.”
And so she did. Week after week, Byleth visited the flower shop, admired the new display and had her coffee. It was always the same time, Wednesday afternoon after her classes had finished.
“You're becoming a bit of a regular here,” said Claude one day, placing her cup down on the table before her, then sinking into the chair opposite. He sometimes sat with her and chatted like this, providing the shop was empty.
“Is that bad?” Byleth asked, pausing with the drink halfway to her mouth.
“Of course not! I love having you here. It's the highlight of my mid-week.”
From there, they'd go on to talk about Byleth's work or any interesting happenings around town. As they spoke, Byleth couldn't help but let her gaze linger on him: the way his dark eyes caught the light; his long, tan fingers folded on top of crossed legs.
I wonder what those fingers would feel like intertwined with mine, she thought.
It would have been impossible to pinpoint the exact moment she started to feel for him romantically. The process was natural, gradual, like the moon pulling the tide back out to sea, or moths drifting towards a table lamp on a summer evening. Before long, he was all she could think about. It didn't help when he started to leave a flower on the table when he gave her her coffee. Usually, it was a rose or chrysanthemum cut from the window display.
“To match your pretty face,” he'd said with a wink the first time he'd gifted one to her. Byleth hadn't been able to stop her cheeks from burning.
Yet with every thought of budding romance came a matching wave of doubt.
He probably acts like that with everyone, Byleth thought as Claude made light conversation with a pair of giggling women. It wasn't his fault, of course. She'd never expected him to give her special treatment, particularly when she'd never made her feelings obvious to him.
Why, then, did it hurt so much to see?
Some people might have given up at that point, accepted that they were a mere drop in the ocean with no way of making themselves known. Byleth considered it more than once. After all, she'd never experienced this kind of yearning before. What if she told him how she felt and he rejected her? She wouldn't be able to show her face around the shop anymore out of embarrassment, and the thought of not being able to see Claude at all made her heart ache more than anything.
It was one Friday night, as she sat marking books at her desk back home, the flower that Claude had given her this week (a white lily with bright orange stamens) sitting in a vase by her side, that the idea came to her; a means to get Claude's attention that was subtle enough not to risk rejection. A fair amount of preparation would be needed, but it'd be worth it.
When Wednesday rolled around, Byleth made her way to Blooms & Beans after work as always. The air was icy now that the winter celebrations had passed and the world had been plunged into cold. By the time Byleth walked through the doors of the flower shop, her cheeks were the colour of apples.
Claude looked up from the bouquet he was wrapping on the counter to wave at her. “Afternoon, Teach! Cold one today, is it?”
“Freezing,” said Byleth.
“No problem. Take a seat and I'll get you warmed up in no time.”
A few minutes later, Claude placed the cup down on the table in front of her, along with a cutting of a purple pansy.
“It's lovely,” said Byleth, picking up the flower and smelling it.
As always, Claude's response was a wide smile. “Glad you like it. Sorry I can't sit and talk today. I've just had a huge order and I don't want to fall behind.”
It was no problem to Byleth, of course. She knew Claude had a business to run, and besides, she could always tell when he was itching to get back to something in the way his eyes kept on darting back to the counter. However, there was one thing she had to ask him first.
“Claude.”
He looked up.
“Do you have a favourite flower?”
He paused for a moment, one hand brushing the wiry hairs on his chin. Then he shrugged. “I like all kinds of flowers. Everything we stock in this shop. Except...”
“Yes?” Byleth pressed.
“There is one that's a pain in the neck to get hold of. I think I've only seen one twice in my life. It's called the strelitzia, also known as a bird of paradise flower.” He laughed. “Don't ask me to order one in, though. I'm not even sure there's anywhere that even stocks them in this country.”
We'll see about that, Byleth thought, smiling into her coffee.
That evening, she got to work. Scouring forums, digging through directories, calling up every place she could find that might stock a bird of paradise flower, but to no avail. Most shops echoed what Claude had said: that she would be hard-pressed to find one without ordering from abroad, and the majority of places wouldn't ship overseas in case of damage. After two hours of searching, she was about to give up, when she spotted an ad on a second-hand website:
Exotic plants and animals. Specialists enquire only.
The website was one Byleth never usually touched, the kind where people sold off their old junk and offered questionable services to one another. Still, she figured it was worth a try. She punched the number into her phone and waited.
“Yes?” answered a gruff voice on the other end.
“I was wondering if you sold bird of paradise flowers.”
She'd been expecting another disappointment, so when the man said he had a few, Byleth almost jumped in her seat.
Two days later, she was being led around a huge greenhouse by a man named Dedue. Contrary to how he'd sounded on the phone, he was a warm, welcoming person. More importantly, he certainly seemed to know what he was talking about.
“This is a hobby of mine. Never brought much money in, but it's made for an interesting pasttime over the past few years.”
Byleth looked at the plants around her, arranged in pots or on trays or stretching up to the glass ceiling, their leaves hanging down. It was like she'd stepped into a dense tropical forest.
“I'm afraid I'm not a specialist,” she said.
It took a moment for Dedue to realise she was talking about the ad. “Oh. I wrote that because of the animals. I breed lizards, too, but they're around the back.”
He led her to a section of the greenhouse populated by a group of plants with thick, waxy leaves and bright orange flowers. Byleth's heart jumped. She knew at once that these were the ones she was looking for.
“They're bigger than I expected,” she said. Each plant was around the same height as her.
“Most of these are just babies. Look.” Dedue pointed to the back, where Byleth was shocked to see several plants almost touching the ceiling, several feet above her head.
It was the one directly in front of her, however, that caught her eye. The flowers were the colour of a blazing sunset with blue and purple shades mixed in, far more vibrant than any of the pictures she'd seen online.
“Can I take that one?” she asked, pointing to it.
Dedue nodded. “Certainly.”
She'd been anticipating a struggle to carry the flower back to the train station, but thankfully, Dedue was kind enough to give her a lift in his car. Then it was simply a case of completing the three hour train journey back to Garreg Mach while ignoring the stares from strangers wondering why on earth she was sat next to a five foot tall exotic plant.
When she arrived back in town, Byleth was so excited, she had to resist the urge to take the flower straight to Claude. But she couldn't. For the amount of effort she'd gone through, it had to be perfect.
Luckily, she had just the occasion in mind.
The hours dragged by that Saturday evening. The same went for the next morning. Byleth usually enjoyed her free time away from work, but with the anticipation stirring in her blood, it felt like nothing she did could distract her from what was to come. There were still so many things that could go wrong. What if she'd somehow gotten the wrong plant? What if Claude took it the wrong way? He was too polite to say anything, so Byleth couldn't imagine a worse situation than being left to wonder whether or not he liked her gift.
The moment five o'clock rolled around, she grabbed the pot and headed out into the cold.
The walk to Blooms & Beans took twice as long as usual, but somehow, she managed it. Sure enough, Claude was on the other side of the window, taking down the old flowers ready for the new display. He was so engrossed in his work, he didn't see Byleth walk towards the shop until she was standing in front of the window.
A look of shock crossed his face as he took in the sight in front of him. Then he set down what he was holding and rushed outside to meet her.
“What in the... Byleth, what is this?”
Before Byleth could answer him, she felt the weight of the pot in her hands lighten. Claude had grabbed the other side. Carefully, they took it into the shop together and placed it by the counter.
This is it, Byleth thought. She watched Claude run his eyes up and down the plant, searching for anything on his face that might give away his thoughts.
Finally, he turned his wide eyes to her. “Where did you get this?”
“A place a few towns over.”
“You mean you went to all this trouble... for me?” He shook his head. “Why?”
“You mentioned you liked this flower, and I wanted to do something special. As a thank you for welcoming me into the town and having me in your shop every week.” Her shoulders stiffened. “You do like it, don't you?”
At last, the smile returned to Claude's lips, and Byleth felt a weight drop away from her. “Of course I do. I love it.” He reached forward and took her hand in his two, his skin warm and surprisingly soft against hers. “But you have nothing to thank me for. I'm more than happy to have you here. You're my favourite customer.”
Up until then, Byleth had promised herself she wouldn't pour her feelings out. But looking down at her hand between Claude's with the heat rising to her cheeks, she felt something break inside her, like a dam holding back a river. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was to tell Claude everything: how she'd come to the shop every week just to see him; how she loved the way he chatted to her, the smiles he gave her when she walked in, the flowers by her coffee; how she'd fallen for him completely without even realising it.
In the end, it all manifested as a single line that left her lips in a whisper: “Would you ever consider me as more than a customer?”
“Why, do you want a job?” asked Claude.
Byleth froze, but the glint in Claude's eyes told her he'd understood her meaning perfectly. The seconds dragged to a standstill as he considered it. Then he scoffed and lowered his head. “Man, you really outdid me on this one, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your birthday. It's at the end of this month, isn't it? I hope you don't mind, but I asked the students for the date.” He looked back at her, and Byleth was shocked to see the smallest hint of scarlet on the bridge of his nose. “I was going to ask you to dinner with me. You know, as a surprise.”
The words were so unexpected, it took a minute for Byleth to answer. “You can still ask me, if you'd like. I'd say yes.”
Claude squeezed her hand and chuckled softly. “Well, that's all right, then, isn't it?”
He leaned into her, and his eyes seemed to be asking permission for something. Byleth granted it with a nod. The next thing she knew, Claude's lips pressed against hers. The kiss was short and sweet, but it left her head spinning all the same.
“Thank you for the strelitzia,” he whispered against her cheek.
Byleth had almost forgotten the proper name for the plant she'd gifted him. The word rolled off his tongue, as beautiful as the sound of her name on his lips.
“I had to find something that would match your pretty face,” she said, placing her free hand on his neck and running a thumb along his jaw.
“Using my own words against me, huh?” Claude snorted. “How rude.” Then he leaned down and kissed her again.