Chapter Text
Okinawa was hot. Even the lowest temperatures were highs back home in Canada. That was one of the first adjustments Langa had to make when moving across the globe with his mother 3 years ago. He finished high school, without much excitement, struggling a bit with reading and writing in a language he had such little practice in, having only spoken it with his mom and grandparents. But shortly after graduating, started at university for business and helping his mother at her flower shop, Infinity Flowers.
Normally, he was just in charge of manning the cash register, keeping the store tidy, and helping with the flower garden. He almost never made the arrangements, finding it hard to keep track of all the meanings and symbolism behind not only the arrangements but the flowers themselves. Thankfully, his mother is more than happy to work in the back creating the most gorgeous and well-designed arrangements. Only, that may be about to change.
The bell above the door gives a light chime. Langa looks up from sweeping lost leaves and fallen petals off the floor just as a boy with red, unruly hair held back by a headband steps through the door with a skateboard tucked under his arm. He quickly sets the broom against the wall and makes his way toward the register.
“Hi, what can I help you with?” Langa speaks, his voice tight and slightly higher pitched than normal, nervousness seeping into his voice. He brings his hands in front of him, wringing them to help release some of the tension that just filled his body because this boy is cute . Like in a stupidly charming and dorky kind of way. His headband sits slightly askew, doing a horrible job of attempting to tame the curls. Sweat accumulates along his hairline making said hair stick to his face slightly. It settles along his browbone and top lip making his face glisten, but not in a bad way. How can it not be in a bad way? Langa is unsure. He’s broken out of his study with a response.
“Hey! I just need some flowers for my mom!” His voice is scratchy, pleasantly so, and it cracks when he first starts speaking. He talks with his whole body, energy seeming to course through him abundantly. He steps from foot to foot, and it’s almost unnoticeable except for the slight sway of his upper body.
Langa figured it was flowers, but for his mom? That is so cute. He swoons a little at the idea of this attractive boy being a super kind person going out of his way to get his mom flowers. The only thing on Langa’s mind is getting this boy his flowers, making sure it’s the best ones they have. “Yeah of course, uh, when do you need them by?”
“I could come and pick it up on Thursday? I have class that morning but I can come by around this time then!” The boy talks with his hand quite a lot, flipping them out and this way and that way alluding to his comings and goings. Once he finished talking, he settles them back into place to rest on top of his skateboard, nestled in front of him by his feet. Langa can’t stop watching every movement he makes.
Langa nods while saying, “Yeah, Thursday works.” His voice isn’t as tight anymore, but he can’t help still feeling nervous around the boy. In the back of his mind Langa knows there's more questions he usually asks, but he can't seem to remember them as he glances into honey gold eyes, framed by wild brows and freckled cheeks on tanned skin. A smile rests on the boy's face, lighting up his eyes. Langa watches as he gathers his skateboard under his arm again and begins to wave as he walks out the door.
“Okay! Then I’ll see you Thursday!” Langa lifts his hand to wave back and the energetic, very attractive boy leaves his shop, and oh my god he forgot to ask what the flowers are for. How is he going to make an arrangement and pick the right flowers if he doesn’t even know what they’re for? Langa bangs his head against the table, trying to come up with a way to salvage this. Contact him and clarify? No, he forgot to get literally any contact information. There’s technically not even an order in the system since the only thing Langa could do was stare.
He jumps as the broom that was once resting against the wall slides and crashes to the floor, landing with a loud twang. Langa dejectedly walks back over to resume his previous task and mulls over how he can not fuck up the attractive boys flowers more than he already has. That’s when he realizes he didn’t even get his name for the order.
Three bouquets. Langa has settled on making three bouquets to attempt to get the reason behind the flowers correct. There are three main reasons in which someone gets flowers: birthdays, dates, and somber occasions. Seeing as how the boy was in good spirits, Langa crosses the multitude of possibilities that the third reason holds. Okay, birthdays and dates, well he said it was for his mom so it’s definitely not a date. Birthday it is then. That would be easy enough. But what if it’s not for a birthday? What if it’s a ‘just-cause’ thing or an apology bouquet? That’s when Langa decided he would make a birthday, a ‘just-cause’, and an apology bouquet. This way when the red head comes back in three days to pick up the flowers, he’s bound to have one that will be at least close to what he needs. Not like anyone would notice if the arrangement and flower choices were off anyways.
Langa walks into the backroom shortly after closing the front of the store, and finds his mother working on a bouquet set to be picked up tomorrow afternoon. He stands by the door awkwardly before blurting out, “Hey mom?”
He walks up to stand next to his mom, handing her the next flower to be added to the arrangement before turning and leaning his back against the table. “Yes dear?” His mother responds warmly, plucking the flower from his outstretched hand, offering a smile and a softening of the eyes in thanks.
“So someone came in and placed an order earlier today and I kinda forgot to ask what they’re for… and a name… and the contact information…” He trails off as he sheepishly looks towards the floor.
His mother pauses, glancing over at him, “I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.” She pauses slightly, an inkling of knowing seeping into her tone when she says, “did something happen?”
Langa flushes, still looking towards the floor when he quietly says, “No. He was just really cute…”
His mother gives a huff and shakes her head slightly, holding in a smile. “Well, what do you want to do about it then? It’ll be pretty easy to make a general bouquet with no meaning behind it if you’d think that’d work.” She continues focusing on the arrangement in front of her while she speaks, moving flowers this way and that, pulling one taller and pushing another lower.
Langa turns and pushes himself towards the table, bracing himself with his arms. “Well, I kinda wanted to make them myself…” Langa starts tentatively wanting to gauge her reaction to this new development first before saying, “I also thought I could make three different bouquets to hopefully have one fit the occasion best? He said it’s for his mom and he was in a good mood so I was going to make a birthday, ‘just-cause’, and an apology bouquet just in case.” He trails on hoping that an explanation may help to… convince her? He’s not sure why he feels the need to do so but it’s happening already.
His mom puts her work aside, putting one hand on her hip as she turns to give her son her full attention. He turns his head to meet her gaze cringing slightly at the mirth and laughter swirling in her eyes. “How cute was this boy?”
Langa blushes, his head falling to the table, the blow softened by his arms tucked underneath him. He peeks out towards his mother, speaking softly “Really cute.” He sighs and lifts himself off the table to give his mother the best pout he can manage.
“He had pretty, really light brown eyes, like a golden color” he says as he begins to pace. “And this crazy untamed red hair,” Langa’s hands begin to act out the monstrosity of his curly waves, and walks over back to the table to emphasize the importance of his “Freckles! Mom, he had the cutest freckles.” He turns to give his mom a look, emphasizing just how serious he is about these freckles. “Oh! He also had a skateboard! How cool would it be if he skates? He’s cute and cool?” He dramatically leans over the table and looks his mother dead in the eyes, “Mom, it’s over for me.” He takes a deep breath as he finishes relaying to his mother just how cute this boy was, some of the tension leaving his body. God, he doesn’t think he’s used the word cute so much in his life.
“Oh boy, he’s quite something huh?” His mother has this look on her face that’s poking fun at him, finding amusement in his pining.
“Yes. Now I have to make the best bouquets ever for him. I have three days before he comes in on Thursday. I’ll have to skip class. He said he’d be in the same time Thursday as he came in today but I’d normally be in my analytics class, but I obviously have to be here to give him the bouquets.” Langa continues a little furiously as he gathers the first vase for the birthday bouquet.
“Oh, obviously.” His mother mimics as she watches her son gather the supplies necessary for the arrangement. Langa sets the vase, some ribbon, and a few foam pieces on the table. He stares at them for a second before turning back to his mom.
“Okay now what?” He’s got an excited air around him even with the confusion coating his question, as if he truly is eager to learn and get started.
It takes Langa and his mom that night and the next day to get all three of the bouquets done. They work on them after closing, that way both of them can give it their full attention, and neither has to leave to go help a customer. They pick fresh flowers from their flower garden as his mom tries to explain the meanings and symbolism behind each flower. He gets a little confused since the ones she’s taught him in the past are different from the meanings she’s telling him now. She goes on to explain that the flower language back home is a little different from the Japanese hanakotoba.
“Hanakotoba is personally my favorite. It puts more meaning behind each flower and color, sometimes even the amount of a certain flower means something.” she tells him as they work on the apology bouquet.
“For example, sunflowers in hanakotoba have a ton of different meanings. A white sunflower means gentle love and a purple one is more for grief and sorrow. The size also matters when it comes to sunflowers.” She continues to guide Langa in the placement of the yellow roses- for peace and friendship.
“A giant sunflower is more of a false love, it’s big and showy; whereas a dwarf sunflower is more of a noble love. Overall, the meaning behind sunflowers is ‘I’m only looking at you’ or ‘admiration’. My favorite part of gifting sunflowers is how the amount gifted means something as well. One sunflower means ‘I fell for you at first sight’ and 3 is more of a confession of love. Seven is a secret love whereas eleven is true love.” She gives a dreamy sigh as she says, “108 is a way to say ‘Will you marry me’.” She rests her hands in her lap beginning to twist the ring on her finger.
“Is that how dad asked you?” Langa asks as he pulls away from the arrangement, giving his mother his full attention.
His mother gives a soft laugh and continues gazing at the ring on her finger, “Not quite. He didn’t know anything about the language of flowers, you’re a lot like him in that way it was hard for him to keep track of and remember, but he did give me bouquets of sunflowers pretty regularly. I bet they added up to well over 108.”
She reaches out, her hand comes to softly hold over the top of his, giving a slight squeeze as she gives him a soft, almost sad smile. She reaches across, caressing the back of his head with her other hand pulling him towards her, and planting a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Alright, let’s finish these bouquets for this cute boy. Why don’t we?”
Langa nods and listens to his mother’s instructions on the placements, adjustments of the arrangement, and how to add the final touches. After finishing the last bouquet, Langa and his mom tidy the studio and make their way up to the attached apartment. As he makes his way to bed after his shower that night, he stops in his mother’s doorway.
A soft orange light fills the room as the bedside lamp illuminates the dark room while his mom reads her current novel. He gives a slight rap against the door with his knuckle to announce his presence .
“I just wanted to say thank you, for helping me with those arrangements. I know it was probably bothersome to make three different kinds when we could have just stuck to a basic supermarket bouquet.” With both hands, Langa tugs at the towel wrapped around his shoulders which protects his sleep shirt from the dripping of his damp hair.
His mother fixes him with a look, a mix of disapproval at the idea of her son thinking himself bothersome, it’s almost like he doesn’t know that she wouldn’t do anything for him, and love for her caring son. “Of course dear, it’s not a problem at all. I’m glad you asked me for help. It makes me happy that we got to create something together.” She opens her arms inviting him in. Langa makes his way over, crawling into his mother’s embrace as she makes space for him.
The bed is warm where Langa nestles in, resting his head upon his mother’s shoulder as she wraps her arms around him, petting his damp hair. They sit like that for a while, spending time with one another not really saying anything. His mom continues to pet his hair as she reads her book once more. Langa begins to fall asleep to the soothing ministrations. Just before he succumbs to sleep completely, he lifts himself from his mom’s shoulder as he stretches, a yawn tug at his mouth. “I should go to bed.” He begins to pull himself out of his mom’s bed as she gives him one last squeeze as she responds, “Okay dear, sleep well. I love you.”
Langa turns back to face his mother as he stretches again, scratching his stomach as his other arm raises above his head. “I love you too. Good night.”
He turns to walk back to his room, but pauses as he reaches the doorway. “Do you think he’ll like them?” He asks, already knowing what his mother’s going to say.
“Of course he is. First of all, you made them. Second of all, they’re from Infinity Flowers aren’t they? We only do the best.” His mother's smile pulls on her features and lights up her eyes.
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks again mom.” Langa says as he begins making his way back to his room.
Before he could get too far his mother responds, “You’re welcome. Good night dear.”
If Langa dreams of a boy with cute freckles and golden eyes that night and wakes up a little too early to get ready a little more than he usually does, then that’s his business and no one else's.