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Kel walks into the floral shop, stomps up to the counter, slams a twenty on the melamine, and asks, “How do I say ‘fuck you’ through flowers?!”
Basil blinks slowly at him, like a cat, only he’s not exactly trying to convey love here. “Uh- I’m sorry, um... What?”
“I am at war, Basil. There’s no time for questions,” Kel responds, and truthfully, he really looks distressed. Well, maybe not distressed. More like he’s up to something stupid again. He must’ve sprinted all the way here, judging by his ragged breathing and the way his hair falls in messy clumps over his forehead.
But Basil is nothing if not well-versed in the ways of Kel. “War will have to wait! I’m incredibly confused. Why would you give flowers to someone you hate?”
Clearly, he wasn't prepared for that question. "Um... because if I give them to her, she’ll... Come and ask you the meaning, and you’ll explain that they mean I despise her!”
“But I could just lie?”
“Excuse me?”
Basil stifles a laugh. “Nothing. Also, you said ‘she.’ Is this about Aubr-?”
He’s cut off quickly. Probably because Kel knows Basil will see through a lie immediately. “You already asked a question! Now come on, can you tell me about the flowers, or make a bouquet?”
This has gotta be at the top of Basil’s long list of ‘the weirdest things Kel has ever done to prove a point,’ and that’s saying something. “How deep in this... War, are you, if you’ve resorted to flowers as an insult? Are you two that out of ideas?”
Kel drums his fingers on the counter, no longer bouncing with energy, or at least not entirely. He’s calmed down from his adrenaline high that came from running all the way here, it seems. “I'm... Getting creative, okay? I just need to know which flowers are awful.”
“...So you're in a war, and you're going to give her flowers?”
“I’m gonna be honest with you, man. You’re making it sound like this is stupid when it’s obviously an incredible idea.”
Basil laughs. “No, no, it’s not! Um... I love your creativity.” He turns around and grabs one of their bouquet bags, making it less flat, and turns back to Kel. “I’ll help you out. Come on, follow me.”
He calls over a coworker to take over the register for a few minutes before exiting from behind the counter and joining his friend. Kel takes the bag from Basil and inspects it, turning the triangle-shaped plastic around.
“This is so weird. Is plastic bad for plants?” Kel asks curiously while Basil leads them to one of the shops’ many floral sections.
“Huh? Oh, I guess it depends. They’re bad for succulents, because they can’t retain the moisture,” Basil explains, and Kel nods along with rapt interest. “Those are safe, but I wouldn’t recommend keeping a plant in it, of course. You should put it in a vase as soon as possible. Make sure Aubrey knows that.”
Kel frowns. “Hey, I never said I was fighting with Aubrey!” He says defensively.
“Right, right,” Basil responds flatly, unconvinced. Kel just rolls his eyes. “...It is her though, right?”
“Do you think I can’t have other enemies or something?”
Basil wipes some dirt off of one of the wooden platforms a few potted plants are sitting on, stopping in front of it. He gestures to them weakly. “No, you have as many enemies as you’d like, Kel! But, anyway... These are foxgloves. They’re actually poisonous, though. Not life-threateningly so, or we wouldn't sell them, of course. They symbolize insincerity, if that’s what you’re looking for?”
“Hmm... Maybe! I’m looking more for hatred and unrequited-ness.”
“Oh! Sweet!” Basil says with faux-enthusiasm, and he can’t help but wonder if this is going to get him dragged into their mess, now. “Well, every flower will have a different meaning depending on who you ask... But orange lilies can symbolize hatred.”
He looks contemplative for a moment. “Perfect. Take me to them.” Basil abandons the small group of foxgloves and heads toward the shop’s collection of herbaceous flowers. “Hey, wait a minute- Why does orange mean hatred?”
“I think it started in the Victorian era? Back then, people thought expressing feelings through words was bad manners, so they sent flowers instead,” Basil explains, trying desperately to remember all the details from the plant history book Polly bought him for his seventeenth birthday.
“Yeah, but why does orange specifically suck?”
Basil spots the lilies he’s looking for and picks up the pace slightly. Kel matches his stride with ease. “That’s a great question! I’m afraid I don’t know the answer, though. Maybe we can look at one of my books later?”
“That'd be fun! Still weird, though,” Kel says absentmindedly. “Plenty of great things are orange. They need to redo these flowers’ meanings.”
“Who exactly is ‘they?’ The Victorians?” Basil asks through a small giggle.
Kel opens his mouth, then closes it again. “All right, next order of business; build a time machine and go to the past to make orange flowers mean cool stuff.”
“I believe in you,” Basil says kindly. He pulls a few orange lilies off the shelf, carefully holding them in his hands. “A few of these should work. Hmm, what’s next... Meadowsweet, maybe?”
He walks further down the shelves, Kel hot on his heels. “What does meadowsweet mean? How can something with the name ‘sweet’ mean something so evil?”
“Well, uh... In some eras, they symbolized uselessness... I dunno. It’s hard to find flowers with cynical meanings,” Basil responds. He gently hands the flowers over to Kel, who holds them with extreme carefulness. He’s staring down at them like he’s afraid they’re about to collapse in his grip. “Huh. I could’ve sworn we sold meadowsweet.”
“Basil. I have a question,” Kel asks suddenly. Basil stops walking, turning to look at him. He’s subtly shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he’s ready to take off running. “Which flowers symbolize nice things?”
The orange lilies are limp in his grasp. Basil glances down at them, then back up at Kel’s eyes. He’s got a few good inches above Basil. “Why do you ask? I mean, you want Aubrey to be offended, right?”
Kel laughs. “Right! Right, I know. So I want to know what not to buy,” he blurts.
Basil tries to stare him down, to intimidate him, but he’s never been the best at eye contact, and he certainly can’t get inside Kel’s head like this. “It’d be easier to tell you which flowers don’t have positive meanings,” Basil begins. “Almost everything symbolizes something great.”
“But if you wanted to tell someone you like them... What would you buy?” Kel asks.
It takes Basil so aback, he feels like he’s been splashed with a bucket of ice water.
Of course he likes Aubrey, idiot. They’re probably not even fighting. He didn’t come here because he likes you, not even platonically, he’s just using you-
He’s been quiet for too long. Kel’s staring at him. “You want to... Confess to someone? Um... I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You want my help to confess to Aubrey?”
“What? Ew, no!” He's unconvinced, and it must show. “Hey, why do you look so disappointed?” Kel asks suddenly before shaking it off- thank god he does. “Anyway- I’m asking for... For someone else.” He clears his throat.
And Basil so desperately wants to say, ‘oh, okay,’ and turn around and keep walking through the shop, but even this has both piqued his curiosity and upset him to a point where he’s not afraid of confronting him. “Like who?”
Kel huffs out a breath, like this is taking everything out of him. “Give me a flower. A nice one.”
“What- What do you mean?” He can feel his heart pick up speed. “I can try to find a specific one! Like one that means love, or one that means hope, or healing.” Kel stares at him. Basil shifts uncomfortably. “Um... Did you know chrysanthemums symbolize love and happiness? And daffodils-“
“I like you.”
Basil’s blinking slowly again, stopped in his tracks, interrupted mid-sentence. “You what?”
“I like you! And I- I kind of improvised that story about Aubrey and I. I wanted to buy you flowers, but I don’t know what a lot of them mean, and Hero told me I should just go for it, but Aubrey and I were talking literally five minutes ago, and she was like, ‘What if you accidentally tell him you hate him?’ so I came here and wanted to ask you to make sure I wouldn’t buy anything that represents hate-“
This time, Basil cuts him off, gently waving his hands around. “Kel! Kel, it’s- Oh my god, you’re...” He breaks into a fit of quiet laughter with no malicious intention. “You went through all that just to... Just so I wouldn’t misinterpret your gift?”
“...Yeah?”
Basil feels his heart slow down, feels it start to swell with love, instead. “Well, um, y’know- you shouldn’t worry too much. Orange lilies can also mean confidence, and other good things. I think I would have just been happy to get anything from you.”
Kel lifts the flower up a bit, studying its petals, obviously trying to hide the faint tinge of pink that starts growing on his cheeks. “They represent confidence? Well, that explains a lot. It literally gave me its energy.”
“Mm, I don’t think that’s how flowers work.”
“It totally is. Maybe those Victorians were onto something.” Kel abandons the bit and looks back at Basil again. “This... Wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
It’s only then that Basil realizes he hasn’t responded to the confession, and panic seizes him for a moment at the thought of making Kel worry. “No, no! I’m glad you told me, because- I feel the same way?” Kel visibly relaxes a bit, dropping his hand from where it was messing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry! I just- I really thought you liked Aubrey.”
“No way! She’s the one who’s been begging me to tell you,” Kel says with a hint of fond annoyance. “No, seriously, she’s ready to play along with this whole ‘we’re fighting’ thing just so I can properly tell you. But I guess that’s all out the window now. Not that I’m complaining, though-“
“Kel," Basil interrupts gently.
“Sorry.”
Basil pulls the orange lilies out of his hand and puts his own there in their place. His hands are warm, albeit a bit wet from the water residue on the lilies. Basil doesn't mind. “Come on. What you need is a rose, if you’re trying to confess.”
“Well, duh! Everyone knows roses mean love. It would’ve been too obvious.”
He maneuvers the orange lilies back in their place and drags Kel through the aisles. “Obvious is good!”
"Too basic," Kel responds. Still, Basil finally reaches the aisle and drags a potted rose off the shelf, narrowly avoiding knocking off the seed packets propped up against it. He hands it to Kel and tries to maintain a calm and collected composure.
"For you. Because, officially, I like you too."
Kel holds the pot like it's worth a million dollars. "It's so pretty," he says, uncharacteristically quiet and serious, tone coated with affection. "How did roses get their meaning anyway?"
He lights up at the question, and Kel does what he does best and listens to him, hanging on to every detail. He could stand in that aisle and listen to him talk for hours, admiring the rose, admiring the person who gave him the rose.
"I think it all started with this god in Ancient Greece..."