Chapter Text
Of all the creatures in the world, Salim wouldn’t say he had a favorite.
He could say, “Oh, but there are so many to choose from,” and it wouldn’t be false. Sure, there are dogs – the easiest and probably most common answer to the question. But there are felines and reptiles and insects and things in the sea no one knows. Salim could say one just to take it back and replace his answer with another he found more interesting.
But in reality, he never bothered with the thought. The last time the question got stuck in his mind was back when Zain was only 3, and he and his now ex-wife were going though the store, looking for a little figurine they could bring home.
“How about a dog?” his ex-wife had suggested. Salim stopped looking at a line of bird figurines to stare at the little dalmatian in her hands. Its eyes were big and brown and it had its tongue out. Salim doesn’t know if Zain would want to add it to his growing collection of toys, but he thought it was adorable.
“Dog?”
“It is man’s best friend, after all.”
Salim doesn’t clearly remember if he had playfully argued with her and suggested another animal. He does, however, remember the image of his wife holding the figurine in her hands. Her eyes were bright and her smile was wide, expression filled with the excitement of surprising their son with a new toy. She was cuter than the thing in her hands.
He doesn’t remember how, but they left the store with a little Persian that had one paw raised.
Salim’s wife left him too, a year after then. Zain was only 4.
“--ought about getting a pet?” Zain asked. Salim couldn’t hear him over the TV in the background. He made a quick grab for the remote, turning down the volume so he could hear his son better. He didn’t particularly care about the weather, anyway. Tomorrow was a Saturday; all he was going to do was read his students’ essays and figure out a grade.
“Sorry, TV.” Salim threw the remote back on the couch where it bounced off and landed on the floor. A sigh escaped him. “Could you say that again?”
“Pet,” Zain said loudly. Salim winced. “A dog? Maybe a cat? Have you thought about getting one?”
“Uh.” Salim had honestly never thought about it.
“Come on, baba. Not even a fish?”
Salim didn’t know how to tell his son that while yes, he was able to raise his son by himself for fourteen years, he would probably end up with a deceased animal in his home in five days max. It didn’t help that the last time he cared for something that wasn’t a human was before his son came to this earth.
“I don’t think that would be wise,” Salim declined softly, thinking of dead fish and wasted fish food and an empty fish bowl. “You know I have to leave early for work and I get busy with grading pa—"
Zain groaned exasperatedly on the other line, cutting him off. “Please, it’s not like you live in the classroom. You can just leave it food and water every morning then come home and, I don’t know… Talk to it or something.”
‘Talk to it,’ he says. “My neighbors will think I’m crazy, Zain.” And that’s the last thing Salim wanted in a foreign country where he had less friends than the number of fingers on his hand.
“Well, I didn’t mean literally. I would also think you were crazy if I caught you talking to a fish.”
Then there was a pause, and Salim looked back at the TV that was now playing a commercial for a bar of soap. He suspected that Zain had something more to say, so he waited patiently as the jingle started to get stuck in his head.
Then Zain’s voice went shy, awkward. It was his biggest tell of when he’s being affectionate towards his father; Salim could identify it from miles away. “Just think about it, alright?” he muttered. “I know it gets… boring when I’m not around.”
No, Salim thought bitterly. Not boring.
It gets lonely.
Still, Salim didn’t think it was a good idea. “Maybe someday,” he mused.
“Sooo… like a month?”
His son wasn’t giving up anytime soon, it seemed.
“Maybe.”
He heard the same groan from earlier once again, and a part of Salim wondered if it was actually Zain who wanted a pet. “Fine. Maybe is better than a no. Just promise me you won’t start crying when I hang up?”
Salim laughed, “Tell that to yourself.”
The call ended with Zain blowing raspberries into the receiver. For a boy that got accepted to a foreign university, he never truly lost his childishness. Thinking about it made Salim miss him even more.
It had been just the two of them for a very long time, and with Zain staying in the university’s dorms, Salim only had the company of a cactus his neighbor had given him as a welcome gift. It got a bit too quiet for comfort in the evenings, sure. The noise coming from the TV and the radio aren't the same as a living breathing human, but he was starting to adjust to the environment.
He sat with the same group of teachers every lunch break, and he was friendly with his neighbors. He didn’t make any enemies (at least none he knew of), and he was nice to everyone he came by.
Salim would say he was doing well.
It was already starting to get dark when Salim was walking home.
He stayed an extra hour than usual to wait for late submissions from his students, another hour because Joey the Arts teacher was feeling particularly chatty about his horse named Lucky who ran away and Salim was too polite to excuse himself (Clarice just slipped behind Joey and gave Salim a weak thumbs up before speed walking away), and then another because of, of course, the big bad of them all: London traffic.
Salim got off the bus, the exhaustion of the day starting to wear down on him. The sling of his bag was starting to slip off his shoulder from the weight of his books and papers. He quickly pulled it back up and began trudging home.
As soon as his apartment building came into view, he felt relief well up inside him. He can finally sit back on his slightly lumpy sofa and have leftovers for dinner and maybe listen to the radio as he read essays and graded papers.
He stopped, hearing some commotion on a nearby tight alley. Cans falling paired with loud hissing from a cat. Salim’s still figure has blocked the light being cast from a nearby post, and he had to step back to see what was going on.
In front of a dumpster and next to a long pipe, stood a lone cat being cornered by three others. Their tails were stiff and raised to the sky. The one being cornered seemed slightly larger compared to the others, and while all four had their hairs standing on end, the three angry ones looked like they were about to pounce on their prey any second now.
It looked like trouble.
Salim wanted to walk away, and he easily could. But it had to hit him: A gut feeling, one that came from not only being a father, but also being a teacher who witnessed this happening more often than he should. (Sometimes he didn’t, but Salim wasn’t so stupid to think that it wasn’t happening at all.)
Does he intervene?
He had to think about this. This was none of his business, even if he was a human and these were, well, cats. This also wasn’t the first time he’s been a witness to some cats fighting – they happened frequently, and they were loud. And if Salim were to cut in, he could easily get pounced on by all four of them if he made the wrong move, it co—
The cornered cat looked at Salim – sharp yellow eyes brimming with fear.
Oh, who was he kidding.
He didn’t have time to think about it nor should he have to.
Salim pulled down the sleeves of his coat as best he could to cover up as much skin as possible in case he ended up as a human scratch pad. He didn’t want to go to school the next day with injuries he would be too embarrassed to explain and he certainly didn’t want to end up on the news as “Man, 40, found dead in an alleyway. Cause of death: Cat Scratch to the heart and Misplaced Bravery.”
Salim mumbled a quiet prayer and briskly walked into the tight space.
He used his bag to shoo the three stray cats away. It was a successful (and much quicker than he expected) endeavor, with all three rushing off before Salim could even swing his bag.
One jumped on the dumpster to climb over a wall meanwhile the other two skittered off to the open street. Salim let out a relieved exhale, thankful that it was over a quickly and that he was miraculously unharmed. He slung his bag over his shoulder before tilting his head to look down at the poor cat that was being cornered.
Salim was expecting to see an empty spot where the cat had been. He knew how flighty cats were, and even if he weren’t shooing the small one in particular, he knew it likely got spooked and ran away.
But no, it was still there. And it was staring straight at Salim with those same yellow eyes.
Salim noticed, upon closer inspection, that unlike the cats that had been targeting the one he was looking at in this moment, this cat looked like it had a home. Its hair wasn’t matted, it looked well-fed, and it was, simply-put, clean.
It was a pretty cat, too. Its fur was a deep brown with black stripes all over. Most interesting of all, those qualities only served to emphasize the white area on its chest. If Salim looked at it in an angle, he would probably mistake it for a shield against the dark fur.
Salim guessed it was a Persian cat, but it was the only breed he knew so he could easily be mistaken.
It probably ran away from home, got lost and subsequently got attacked, Salim thought. Then he backtracked, Well, it would have had I not cut in.
Salim crouched down with slight difficulty in the tight space, still looking at the creature. He tried his best to be as quiet as possible, but of course his knees had to creak. Loudly.
He was getting old.
Thankfully, it didn’t run away despite the noise. And Salim didn’t want it to run away, so he kept his hands to himself and moved slowly. He rested his elbows on his knees and gave the cat a soft smile.
“Are you lost, little one?” He spoke to it in English, his voice soft and gentle, as if he were talking to a newborn. “I am guessing you have a home. That maybe your owner left the window and you ran away. I’m sure whoever they are, they are looking for you right now.”
Thankfully the street was empty, so no one was there to witness Salim talk to a cat and call him crazy behind his back.
He continued, “I’m going to go home now. You should, too. Good night.” Salim gave it one last smile before standing up to slip out of the tight space. It never left its spot, not even after Salim stood up to leave. It just kept looking at him with its large yellow eyes.
Salim began to wonder if he left it paralyzed after his intervention, but he didn’t want to touch it in case it bit him.
He didn’t look back as soon as he slipped out of the alley. He did, however, look back once he was a good few steps away. He was half expecting the cat to still be sat in the same place, looking at Salim like a ghost.
The cat was no longer there.
Salim wouldn’t say he had many friends.
But he had friends in the faculty – Nick, the P.E. teacher who always liked to share his food with him, Rachel, the History teacher that he found slightly intimidating, Eric, the geography teacher who was slightly awkward but otherwise genuine and kind, Clarice, the “no-bullshit” (as she eloquently put it) Biology teacher, and Joey, the talkative arts teacher and possibly Merwin the Maths teacher that really liked making jokes with Salim that he didn’t always understand.
The rest he had an amicable relationship with.
And although Salim wasn’t one to mind other people’s business, it became part of his schedule to join in on the morning gossip in the faculty. It wasn’t completely voluntary. He simply was invited on a random morning, and then he was invited again the next day.
And then again, the day after that. Until it felt weird to Salim to not hear about the, quote, “juiciest” story of the week.
They would huddle together before the bell rang in a little circle with their coffee and someone would begin sharing what they heard as they passed by the corridors, hallways, sometimes even outside the school grounds.
And even though Salim didn’t particularly care nor was he interested about how one of the teachers was seen in an adult store buying some very adult things, what mattered to him was that he belonged. He was grateful for the company.
Which was exactly why he found himself staring up at a flower shop about ten minutes away from the school to buy a fellow teacher some flowers. He had about an hour before he should be at campus, but Salim heard about Rachel’s birthday being today because Nick had approached him the day before to ask for advice on what to give a girl.
Well, basically cornered Salim in the men’s bathroom. But he was nice about it, and he was pacing around anxiously that it nearly made Salim forget the terrible stench of the room they were in.
“I just want to see her smile when she sees my gift, y’know?” he said.
Salim understood. He was once a husband, after all.
After telling him that it would be nice to give someone you like an item that would always remind them of you, Nick went from frustratedly looking at the tiles on the wall to sparkling eyes and a wide smile.
He gave Salim a heavy pat on the back. “I know what to give her now. Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome.” Salim smiled back and left as quickly as he could.
He had a gift to buy. And he just didn’t want to stay in there any longer than he needed to.
Salim thought more about Rachel, if she mentioned anything she would want to have that was in Salim’s price range.
He remembered how cold the woman was at first. She was intimidating, and it was clear that she put up a guard around people she didn’t know, co-worker or not. Not that Salim really faulted her for doing so.
Then her walls dropped around Salim in a random afternoon when she caught him reading a cheap Romance novel he mindlessly brought with him to pass the time. He was quickly running out of books to read, and this had been gathering dust on his shelf. It wasn’t his first option, but it definitely wasn’t his last.
Rachel didn’t say anything at first. She opted to pack her things quietly until she asked about what he was reading without looking him in the eye. Salim answered, and she smiled.
Salim had only seen her smile once before this, and that was when Merwin tripped on his way to the coffee machine.
Then they easily fell into conversation about various books – some romantic, some not. She was a very bright woman who was known for being intimidating, so Salim was surprised to find out that romance books, even terribly written ones, were her guilty pleasure.
(“But I don’t really get to read too much of it,” she said after she was able to name several authors on top of her head.)
He was pleasantly surprised to find that she spoke fluent Arabic, too. The only times Salim got to speak in his native language were in his weekly calls with Zain, so finding out that he had someone else he could talk to in Arabic who was also a co-worker of his made him smile so much in that moment that Rachel couldn’t help but ask him if he would prefer it if she spoke in Arabic when it was just them.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Salim replied, “then I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Oh, believe me. It’s not.”
On his way home, he stopped by a bookstore and bought her three books – two non-fiction and one romantic. The cover of the latter was quite juvenile. It had a white couple riding on horseback, and with the way they looked more invested in each other than simply not falling off the horse, Salim wondered if they were following safety precautions.
Then Salim headed home, wondering if he should buy Rachel some flowers to pair with the gift.
Maybe he should.
And so that was how Salim ended up in front of a flower shop ten minutes away from school at 6:10 in the morning.
Salim observed the shop’s exterior. It was nothing too fancy. It was small, and there were books piled near the window. Salim would have mistaken it for a book shop had it not been for the colorful displays of various flowers outside.
He studied the interior of the shop momentarily. There were many flowers lined up on aisles, some seeds, booklets on gardening -- things you would expect to see in a flower shop.
Salim spotted some crates sitting in the corner filled with various collections. He approached he containers, looking down at what was inside. There were peonies, daises, hydrangeas, and a few more… Salim frowned, unsure of what Rachel would like.
Zain had told him before that he can be indecisive at times. This was one of those.
Salim wasn’t sure how long he stood there staring at a box of flowers. He heard the bell by the door ring every so often, but he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was around him.
At some point, he had been so busy staring down a tulip that he nearly jumped when he felt a gentle brush of fingers on his shoulder.
Salim turned, ready to apologize to one of the employees. They probably thought he was loitering, which he sort of was at this point. Salim already had an apology ready, a quick ‘I’m so sorry, but all your flowers are beautiful and I was having trouble choosing and I swear I’m not thinking of stealing anything I’m just very bad at choosing and--,’
Then he got a proper look at the person standing in front of him.
A man. Not an employee by the looks of his casual wear. He had a sharp jaw and high cheekbones that framed his features. His eyes were a warm brown, his nose was straight, and he had thin lips that looked soft. He looked boyish, young.
And despite the blue and white baseball cap on his head, Salim could tell that the man was shorter than him by a few inches.
He was handsome. Effortlessly so.
When their eyes met, the stranger’s mouth contorted to a look of shock so brief that Salim wondered if he had imagined it. Then he regained his composure quickly before Salim could think about it.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he apologized, “I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”
Salim mouth opened, closed it, and then opened it again. “E-Excuse me?”
“I’m not trying to be rude or anything! It’s just,” He made a gesture to the flowers and the taller man felt his cheeks grow warm, catching on. “You looked like you were gonna burn a hole through the box with all your starin’.”
“Oh,” Salim apologized, a bit sheepish. How long was I standing here? “I’m sorry. I just had something in my mind and I might have lost track of time.”
“Trouble choosing?”
“Yes, I—” Salim gave the flowers a quick glance before sighing. “Is it obvious?”
The man smiled, unsure. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Absolutely not.”
The man laughed, but it was shy, contained. Salim noticed that he had a drawl – a Southern accent. It surprised Salim considering he had only heard it once or twice before; London didn’t hold many South Americans, and especially not Iraq.
Salim had to admit it was quite refreshing.
“Honestly, I thought you were one of the shop’s displays or something. Came in and saw you, thought nothing of it. But then after I got my flowers, I noticed you were still standin’ there.” And embarrassingly enough, Salim still was.
Salim looked down at the stranger’s flowers -- lucky orchids, hydrangeas and tulips wrapped in baby blue plastic all tied together by a white ribbon. He noticed an empty tag hanging on it. Salim didn’t see it in any of the lines of bouquets on display.
Which could only mean he had to make a request on the desk. He had to describe what he wanted, he had to wait, and then he paid for it. Which meant that Salim must have been standing there, staring down at the same flowers for quite some time.
Salim inhaled deeply.
“Well, thank you for at least telling me.” Salim dropped his hand to his side and softly smiled at the man. Then he sighed, looking away. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be mistaken for a stand. You were right, I’m having some trouble deciding what flowers to get a friend.”
“Gift?”
Salim nodded. "Birthday,” he replied. He could hear the man hum by his left.
He didn’t say anything back, so Salim took it as the conversation being over. He looked back down at the crates, mind drifting back to daisies and lilacs and daffodils and dahlias…
“Uh,” the man cleared his throat. Salim gave him a brief glance, slightly surprised to see that he was still standing there. “Mind if I help?”
He turned to look at the stranger, not quite sure how to take it. The man had his arms crossed and he wouldn’t look Salim in the eye. He looked genuine, if a bit shy.
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t have anywhere to be for another hour or two; I have time to kill.”
Meanwhile Salim had somewhere to be in less than an hour. And – he looked at a bouquet near his head – he was getting slightly desperate.
Salim sighed, defeated. “Thank you.”
“Maybe later when we get you your flowers, alright?” The man shot him a reassuring smile. He held a hand out, “The name’s Jason, by the way.”
“Salim.” The Iraqi took his hand and shook it, noting the callouses before sliding his hand in his pocket. It was burning.
They stepped out of their little corner with Jason taking the lead. The shorter man lead him between two aisles lines with different yellows and purples and blues. Salim gave him a furtive glance, noticing how calm he seemed.
Salim let out an embarrassed chuckle, “I assume you don’t do this everyday?”
“What? Help strangers pick out flowers?” Jason stopped browsing the line of flowers on the shelves around them to glance at Salim. “You’d be surprised.”
Salim’s eyebrows rose high. “Really?” The American certainly didn’t look like the type to be interested in flowers.
“Yeah, old ladies looking for new things to add to their living room, and sometimes its schoolboys trying to get flowers to give their little girlfriends. I’m there when they need me – like their little flower superhero.”
Jason must have felt Salim staring at him because he caught his eye and then broke into a grin.
“I was just messing with you, Salim.”
The taller man can feel the heat begin to pool in his face. “Oh.”
“I’m actually the last person people go to for flower advice. Sorry to break it to you but I don’t know jack.”
“And here I thought I was talking to a flower enthusiast.” Salim smiled, unable to keep down the twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry. I’m aware that it’s not much of a predicament, but here we are.”
“Don’t apologize. And also, it kinda is,” replied the American. “A predicament, I mean. Flowers can mean a lot to someone. I’ve seen brides spend days on flower arrangements alone.”
“It only makes sense to be meticulous on your own wedding day.”
“Guess so.” The shorter man paused briefly to crouch down, his knees cracking at the action. “Fuck, sorry.”
Salim couldn’t help the small amused smile on his face. “It’s fine.”
“But yeah, maybe it’s because I’ve never been married, but I’ll never get why weddings make people think that choosin’ between a rose or sunflower for table 4 is a big life-or-death scenario.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“Yeah, well, if you see enough people plan weddings you kinda notice a pattern.”
Salim raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Do you know a lot of brides?”
Jason looked slightly taken aback at the question, but he shook his head. “Nope. Just got cousins and a sister back at home. Lots of girls in my family. Three of ‘em are happy wives and another one’s getting married soon so I kinda have an idea.”
“That sounds lively.”
“Don’t get me started.” The fondness in Jason’s tone was clear.
Salim’s mind briefly drifted to the bouquet his wife had held in her hands during their Nikah. It was just him and her and their close family members, and Salim remembered how beautiful she looked.
“Qabul,” she had repeated to him three times. I accept.
But here Salim was over a decade later. Alone.
He could feel Jason’s gaze on him. Salim couldn’t identify what it meant, so he quickly busied himself by reading some labels. “Do you know a lot about flowers?” asked Jason.
“Why do you ask?”
“Dunno… Just curious. I mean, you did end up getting stuck in flower shop for who knows how long.”
“It wasn’t that long…” Salim ignored the amused look from Jason. “But to answer your question, I don’t know a lot apart from their names. I have always wanted to learn what they mean. I believe the language of flowers are beautiful.”
“I see…” Jason looked deep in thought.
“How about you?”
Jason broke out of his thoughts then smiled. “You already know the answer to that.”
Silence falls between them, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. While Salim busied himself, even sometimes moving to a different aisle, Jason would pull out some flowers and ask Salim if he thought this was good enough. More often than not, Salim would say no. Sometimes Jason would ask him a question, but it was less about the flowers and more about Salim.
“What about this one?” Jason suddenly said for what Salim believed to be the sixth time. Salim turned to look at the bouquet in the other man’s hands, studying its pink and white color scheme for a moment before shaking his head.
“As pretty as it is, I don’t think she would like it. It’s too pink, and I don’t think she has a single pink thing on her desk.”
“Damn.” Jason frowned slightly. Instead of crouching back down to look for another bouquet, he leaned on the small aisle instead. “Uh, can you tell me more about the person you’re givin’ flowers to? Their favorite color would be pretty helpful, but a general description of what they’re like could do.”
Salim could feel a headache come in, along with an apology. That should have been the first thing he did. They could have been done by now had Salim told Jason earlier. He opened his mouth, closed it, and finally kept his mouth shut as he rested his eyes on a peony next to Jason’s arm.
It was difficult to break down Rachel into a few adjectives.
“You sure you’re friends?” Jason teased when Salim still hadn’t replied ten seconds later.
Salim glared at him. “Yes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“Right.”
“She is just a difficult woman to describe.”
“Okay.”
Salim sighed. “Jason.”
“Salim,” Jason mimicked the Iraqi.
Salim appreciated that Jason stopped trying to distract him after this and opted to look around the inside the shop. The light coming in from the shop’s windows made his eyes look golden.
“I don’t know what her favorite color is, but for one, she’s quite intimidating,” Salim finally said. Jason’s eyes widened, not expecting his answer. “She’s very practical, professional. I used to think she was aloof, and that we had nothing in common until we found ourselves talking about a shared interest.”
“And what is it? If you don’t mind telling, ‘course.”
“Books. Romance novels, specifically. I thought flowers would be fitting.”
“Huh.”
Salim was expecting a longer reply. He raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of anythin’ bad, don’t worry,” the American smiled at Salim. “Just pegged you to be a reader. That basically confirmed it.”
“I—” Salim looked down at his outfit – a simple coat over a polo and vest and some slacks. He simply thought he looked warm, cozy. He didn’t think he could be easily pegged as a reader. As anything, really. “Alright.”
He took Jason’s amused chuckle as a reply.
“Anyway, I don’t know how to tell you this but—” The man crossed his arms, fully facing him now. Salim can see the sleeves of his jacket stretch tight over his arms. He was probably well-built underneath. “Are you sure you should be giving this woman flowers?”
Salim frowned, his tone defensive. “Well, flowers—”
“Okay, hold on. I’m not saying it’s a bad gift,” Jason cut off the taller man. “I get the sentiment, but if that paper bag has your gift, then these flowers are supposed to be like the bonus, right? Like the appetizer?”
“Yes.”
The shorter man stared at the bag in Salim’s hand. Salim bristled at the attention.
“She doesn’t really have much use for flowers, is what I’m thinking. Sure, she’d appreciate the sentiment but from what you’ve told me, I dunno if she’d prefer it over something that she could actually… use, y’know?”
Salim frowned. He simply thought that it would be nice to give her something that matched his gift to him. There was nothing more romantic than flowers, after all.
But still. “I see your point.”
They both fell into silence.
“How about a bookmark?” Jason suggested suddenly. Salim looked at him. “She reads.”
While it’s a perfectly fine idea, Salim found himself shaking his head.
“No, she has plenty of those already. She gave me three the other day because she already had too many and she didn’t want to leave them sitting around her house, unused.”
They went quiet again.
“What about food?” Salim asked. “A pastry, maybe. It could be nice to give her something to go with her morning coffee.”
A woman passed by them with a large bouquet in her arms and suddenly Salim remembered that he had been standing in this store for who knows how long, hadn’t bought anything, and was even thinking of buying something unrelated to flowers elsewhere.
Salim tried his best to avoid looking at the woman behind the register just in case he ended up meeting a furious glare. Jason would be saved from the wrath, seeing as he had in his hand the flowers he personally requested at the counter.
“Food’s a good idea. Actually,” Jason said, his eyes twinkling, “I know a bakery close by that sells some really good pastries. No clue if you know it but I can point you the directions just in case.”
Salim thought about it for a bit. It was already 6:35AM, last he checked. If he hurried, it would still be warm by the time he got within school grounds.
“Can you show me?”
He and Jason walked outside with Jason taking the lead yet again. As soon as fresh air hit his face, Salim felt like he could breathe again. It felt nice knowing he didn’t have to worry about getting glared at by an upset employee anymore. But he would probably come back another time to buy flowers for himself, for someone else, or simply for the sake of not feeling guilty.
For now, he followed Jason’s lead and studied him from behind.
Salim could see more of his cropped brown hair under his cap. He had a small waist that matched his wide shoulders. If he were broken down into a simple shape, his torso would be shaped looked like an upside-down triangle.
“It’s not too hard to spot when you’re looking for it,” Jason said after giving Salim the directions and the basic description of the exterior of the building. “But yeah, it’s not too far from here.”
“I see.”
“You’ve yet to.”
It took Salim a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. “Ha ha.”
Jason chuckled.
A comfortable silence set over the two men, neither of them really knowing what to say. Salim felt like he should speak first, so he cleared his throat and immediately felt Jason’s eyes on him.
“I just want to say,” Salim gave him a warm smile and said, “Thank you for all your help, Jason.”
Salim could see something flicker behind Jason’s eyes, something akin to recognition. Then he looked away, a pinkish tone dusting his cheek.
“Don’t mention it. I didn’t do much anyways. Helped you out so you could pick out a flower from a flower shop and here we are – no flowers.”
“No flowers, yes, but we also left behind a possibly angry flower shop employee,” mused Salim.
“A possibly very angry flower shop employee,” Jason said before turning slightly to look back at the flower shop, as if said employee was going to come running after them.
“But I suppose it doesn’t really matter anymore. We are here, and I have a better gift now, thanks to you.”
“Uh-huh, and all it took was pointing out the obvious.”
“If it took me this long to notice my mistake, I believe it’s not as obvious as you think it is.” Salim then inhaled before he said again, “Thank you again, really.”
“And really,” Jason teased, imitating Salim, “Don’t mention it. Honestly, it helped that talking to you wasn’t so bad. I liked hanging out with you. And I guess you can think of it as a return--”
Jason immediately snapped his mouth shut. He went stiff, like he said the wrong thing. He looked sharply to the ground.
Return? Salim thought. He opened his mouth to ask but then the shorter man cleared his throat before a word escaped Salim.
“Anyway, I guess this is where we part ways?”
Salim still wanted to know what he meant by ‘return’, but the sudden disappointment he felt swirling in his gut distracted him. He was right. They both had places to be – Salim to school and Jason to… well, somewhere.
There was something comforting in the slight disappointment in Jason’s tone. At least it wasn’t just him.
Jason was looking at him now. He looked unsure.
“I guess so,” was all Salim said.
He contemplated asking for Jason’s contacts, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Maybe it would be weird, maybe that would be rushing things.
Rushing, Salim felt a bit ridiculous at the thought. There was nothing to rush.
“Well.” Jason awkwardly put his hands on his back. Salim followed the movement. His flowers were out of view now, save for one orchid that peeked out of his elbow. “See you around?”
Salim highly doubted that he and Jason will be doing much ‘seeing around’ after this. But still, he nodded his head. “Goodbye, Jason.”
Salim turned around and walked away. He only walked a few steps before he heard Jason call him. Loudly.
“Hey, Salim!”
Salim turned. His body was faced to the side, but his eyes were on Jason. The man wasn’t too far away, he could still see him clearly. He was ignoring the people glancing his way. Salim raised his voice slightly, “Yes?”
“Try not to get mistaken for a stand this time, alright?”
A sta—
Of course.
Salim stared at the American in disbelief before it broke into a wide grin. Of all the things he expected him to say…
He watched Jason walk away after a smile and a wave. Salim didn’t know how long he had been watching him, but eventually his figure got smaller and smaller until finally, Salim couldn’t see him anymore.
Salim was smiling, and his cheeks were so so warm.
It had been so long since—
Then he remembered the time, how he could very easily end up missing Rachel in the faculty and miss out on the daily morning gossip if he kept standing there, and briskly walked towards the bakery Jason had told him about.
And no, he didn’t get mistaken for a stand this time, thank you very much.