Chapter Text
The xeno-roses are blooming beautifully this season, Fukunaga thought to himself as he took his usual place on the rooftop picnic table. The sun shone warmly through the atmosphere bubble, making him feel like a cat prepared to nap against the windowsill.
Where was Kai? He was always up here at one o’clock, studying the plants, or otherwise typing up his research while Fukunaga enjoyed a quiet lunch. He had gotten used to this routine of theirs.
He’d started coming up to the roof because his work environment downstairs was…a little overwhelming.
His new desk didn’t feel like his old desk. It was true that it was the same standard desk as his old one—practically all desks at the Extio Space Federation Office were the same. But his old one had certain scratches on the top that he was familiar with, that he could run his fingers along with one hand while typing with the other. This new desk was perfectly smooth.
There were also the noises and smells. Through most of the day, he could work just fine, with or without his headphones. But at lunchtime, everything turned into a flurry. People from offices across the building left their stations to chat, or microwave xeno-snails, or—worst of all—chew with their mouths open. And Fukunaga liked his coworkers, but not enough to go through that every day. So instead he found refuge in the quiet of the rooftop garden, with none other than the plants (and Kai) to keep him company.
He hadn’t known who Kai was, at first. Fukunaga merely came up to the roof one day and found the man tending to the plants. He was very handsome—with a strong jaw and kind eyes—and smiled at Fukunaga, but didn’t speak. Fukunaga preferred it that way.
But you can’t spend an hour every day with someone (even at a distance) and not wonder about them. So one day, Fukunaga had typed on his iVoice (an AAC smart watch with a hologram screen) and asked what the man’s name was, and found out it was Kai Nobuyuki. From then on, they’d had friendly conversations.
He found out that Kai was a botanist, a fellow human studying the planet’s wildlife. That he liked sea grapes and making his own lunch with plants that he’d grown or foraged himself, and always let Fukunaga try when he wanted to. That he had two siblings back on Earth whom he chatted with regularly, despite the seemingly infinite distance between them.
Kai listened to him, too. Sometimes Fukunaga complained about the accounting work he had to complete downstairs, and other times he went on excited tangents about the beans on the underside of kittens’ paws. Whatever Fukunaga spoke about, Kai listened intently, nodding enthusiastically, or parting pretty plump lips in deep thought. The best times were when he made Kai laugh, a musical sound that made his chest swell with pride.
Sometimes he became quite distracted by Kai’s beauty, and he wondered if Kai noticed this, because he sometimes stammered and looked away.
He would casually ask, “Have you ever worked as a model?”
Kai’s eyes would dart away. “Me? I, uhm, no. I haven’t.”
And then the subject would change, and if Kai noticed Fukunaga’s hidden affections, then he didn’t acknowledge them.
Approaching footsteps made Fukunaga snap out of his thoughts. That must be Kai! He turned to wave, but his hand faltered mid-air.
In Kai’s arms was a giant bouquet of flowers that resembled zinnias (xeno-zinnias?), and sprigs of sweet-smelling native plants. They were beautiful—he’d never seen flowers like this on Extio before.
“What are these for?” It was unusual to gather plants into a bouquet like this for research. Kai must be using them for something else.
“These—they’re, um. They’re for you. I know how much you like talking about the flowers with me.”
Fukunaga accepted the bouquet into his arms, heart fluttering. He wanted to say thank you, but couldn’t reach his iVoice without dropping everything.
“Oh, sorry! Let me get that.” Kai embarrassedly took back the bouquet to give Fukunaga access to his wrist. He mumbled, “I didn’t think this through.”
A laugh escaped him. It was so unlike Kai to be this flustered, when he was usually as calm as a pond on a sunny day. The sight made Fukunaga tingly with happiness.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Kai paused, mouth forming and unforming words. “Fukunaga, you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re special.”
He could feel his heart bursting. Kai had brought him pretty flowers. Kai thought he was special.
Before he could begin to process this information, Kai said, “Would you like to go out with me?”
Kai liked him back. Fireworks went off all over his body. Too overwhelmed to form words, Fukunaga nodded his head vigorously.
Kai wore a relieved smile. But then he turned shy again, eyes shifting modestly to the ground. “Can I…have a hug?”
When he nodded, Kai opened his arms. As Fukunaga gave him a tight squeeze, he returned the hug with the same amount of pressure, the perfect amount.
Through the soft fabric of Kai’s sweater seeped a blooming warmth.