Archive of Our Own ^beta

Using a physical arrangement as a reference may better help depict the style you’re going for!

The rubric decorated with dozens of critiques and suggestions in bright red is held hostage between Ena’s death grip. Granted—they’re from professors she actually respects, that doesn’t subdue the tinge of disappointment that settles into her chest. She spent a considerable amount of time on the rough draft after all. With a huff, Ena shoves the wrinkled sheet of paper back into her bag. 

Out of sight out of mind. 

Before the summer heat suffocates the brunette any further, Ena turns her attention back to her current dilemma.

She’s met with a flower shop, the same shop she’s awkwardly been fidgeting at the entrance for what feels like ages now. Any onlooker may assume she’s intimidated by the store. Little do they know is, they're right. 

How is she expected to just casually waltz in and ask for an arrangement exactly like her sketch? How the hell does anyone just ask for flowers casually?

Before she can attempt to talk herself out of it, Ena silently curses every one of her professors and pushes open the door to the shop. 

She is engulfed in an intoxicating aroma the moment the door shuts behind her. Ena is pathetically ignorant when it comes to flowers, herbs and all plants of the sort. That doesn’t stop her from falling into a slight whimsical trance at the way the morning dewy-fresh fragrance envelopes her entire body like a warm blanket. 

Suddenly, she’s aware that she is just awkwardly standing at the entrance. Huffing, she silently excuses herself to the nearest display of flowers, every movement mechanical and robotic. 

Paeonia lactiflora—Pink Peonies.

Her manicured fingers lightly trace across the stem of the overwhelmingly pink set of arrangements, a hum escapes her lips in appreciation of the silkiness of the petals. 

“Are you getting married?”

Ena’s heart leaps into her throat and she has to tear her gaze away from the flood of pink flowers she was busying herself with. 

And then she does a double take, eyes widening as she goes completely breathless.

Pretty. Beautiful. Absolutely stunning. Even more pink.

She’s by no means a poet, but this stranger is nothing short of breathtaking. Almost literally.

Instinctively, Ena adjusts her glasses that were falling down the bridge of her nose. Of all the days she decides to choose glasses over contacts. Of course. 

She stares, unabashedly and with zero shame, at who she assumes is a florist around her age. Her chocolate gaze soaks up the gathered up cascade of pink locks that fall behind their back in a ponytail, a crimson bow that neatly keeps the hair in place. And their eyes—a shimmering pale pink that reflects the soft light of the shop invitingly. 

She’s also still horribly ignorant when it comes to plants and flowers, but the sight is enough to put a field of cherry blossom trees in the spring to shame. 

“What?” Her brain begins to short circuit. 

Shit. 

The pretty florist grins and it oddly makes Ena’s stomach flip. “Pink peonies tend to mean good fortune and prosperity,” as they speak, the florist stands beside Ena and begins to adjust the arrangements methodically. “Normally people who come in and ask for them want them for wedding receptions.” 

Ena’s nose scrunches, “I’m not getting married.” She silently chides herself at the way she appreciates how the florist’s voice sounds like a melody she would willingly listen to all day. 

“Hmm. I see...” They don’t sound too convinced, as a playful smirk spreads across their lips. 

She’s unsure how much more she can take of this. 

“I need an arrangement that’s like my sketch,” she blurts out. Ena takes out her sketchbook and shoves it into the pretty pink stranger's hands without a second thought. Their gaze widens, manicured fingers carefully grazing across the rough draft in a silent appreciation.  

“This is really good… Did you draw this?” Sincerity is laced along the question and Ena’s pulse quickens in response. 

“Yeah except you’re likely the only person who thinks it’s good so far.” Her grip tightens along the straps to her bag. Saying it out loud reminds her of her current predicament. The very reason why she’s in the shop in the first place, and here she was venting to a stranger. 

A very attractive and pretty stranger.

The florist hums and Ena is grateful they don’t press further, motioning for the brunette to follow them to a secluded corner of the shop. She tags along, but not too close, as her eyes roam the different colored arrangements in appreciation. 

“Do you know anything about flowers besides how to draw them really well?” 

Ena almost doesn’t hear them, her attention far too preoccupied with juggling between some white tulips and the florist’s shapely figure. She needs to get a grip. 

“I don’t—admittedly I had to work up the courage just to walk inside here.” She doesn’t know why she confesses this, but seeing the toothy grin from the florist makes her cheeks feel a bit warm.

“It’s just flowers,” they pause and kneel to the ground to shift their attention to a soft purple arrangement. “Unless…you were too nervous to speak to me?” 

Ena chokes and the far off corner of the store is filled with the florist’s bubbly laughter.

“I didn’t—” She hates the way her voice rises an octave in embarrassment. “Are florists normally this obnoxious?” 

The stranger laughs. Laughs, at the insult and Ena has to pinch herself to avoid staring for too long. She can’t possibly imagine a worst first impression.

“You got me there,” a gentle smile replaces the smirk and the shift in sentiment is enough to bring Ena back to reality. “Anyway, how does this look?” 

Ena only now notices the rather large arrangement held against the florist’s chest. During their playful back and forths, they must have expertly arranged the bouquet. Meanwhile she was too preoccupied on deciding whether she wanted to ogle at the pretty florist or wring their neck.

The arrangement displays an array of colors ranging from soft purples to off white petals. The knowledge and expertise of how each type of flower is carefully positioned and placed doesn’t escape Ena. It’s an exact replica of her sketch and she feels her fingers twitch at her sides, eager to begin correcting her mistakes from her draft. 

She also wouldn’t mind capturing the essence of a certain florist either, but she thinks her skills wouldn’t do them justice. 

“They’re lovely,” Ena responds and bites back a smirk. “I’m glad you’re just as good at arranging flowers as you are at being obnoxious.”

“Ouch! That may have been deserved…” A small smile spreads across their lips before they poorly attempt to conceal it with the large bouquet of flowers. 

Ena thinks the sight is incredibly wholesome. Cute even. 

“To think I was going to give you these on the house! Not after that comment—”

And her smile falls, brows furrowing in obvious annoyance as she lets out a miffed huff. She turns to follow the florist who is all but skipping towards the counter at the front of the store. 

“Why were you even planning on not charging me to begin with?” 

The florist’s wide smile doesn’t falter at the question, their delicate fingers wrapping the bouquet up with precision.  

“I’m still not charging you,” they correct her with no hesitation.

What?

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she replies sharply. It comes out harsher than she intends, but this annoying florist has been the cause of her heart running rampant since she’s walked in—and now they’re offering to just let her walk out with a rather expensive bouquet of flowers for her stupid midterm. It was all a bit too much, it leaves her veins coursing with electricity and her head dizzy. 

“Hmmm,” their manicured finger rhythmically taps their chin as they feign to consider how to respond to Ena’s pestering. “The arrangement is for a project I’m guessing, right?”

“Yes...” 

“Then consider it a good luck gift!” Ena takes note of the way their nose creases up when they smile and she silently chides to herself to stop staring. “Your sketch was already beautiful, so I hope this bouquet helps in any way.”

The sentiment was genuine and Ena sighs. This pretty florist has an undeniable way with words she must admit. 

“You’re also really cute,” the florist chirps with a wide smirk. 

“What—”

Ena short circuits and her eyes widen behind her thin frames. Her cheeks darken considerably and she all but starts to sputter out strings of curses at the florist, who laughs again. 

How can they just say these things? To a stranger no less? She decides this florist was almost as suffocating as the summer heat she abandoned earlier. 

Before Ena could weakly retort, the florist slides around the counter and holds the wrapped arrangement out for her, resembling an excited toddler. A poor attempt at a pure and innocent smile is directed at the brunette who counters it with a scowl. 

With a defeated sigh, she takes the arrangement from them. Her fingers tentatively brush against theirs and her heart does a flip. Her skin is left burning and Ena hopes the electric charged intensity between them is just her juvenile and gay panic of a mind running rampant. She realizes how deep into silence she has fallen once more and bites her lip. 

“You really did a beautiful job.” Ena mumbles, hugging the bouquet against her chest earnestly. “I can’t take this free of charge .”

Maybe it was a selfish thought, childish even, but she’d like to pretend the flowers were a random gift from a friend and not out of necessity for a meaningless project. It’s not everyday—or quite frankly, ever, that she’s so casually given an arrangement so beautiful.

“You can repay me by getting a good grade,” the pretty florist responds and takes a step closer to the brunette. “Besides, showing me the sketch was more than enough. It’s not everyday a talented and cute artist walks into our shop.”

Suddenly it's way too hot in the shop, almost as hot as the summer heat outside and she averts her gaze anywhere but the stranger in front of her. 

Her attention lands on the name tag neatly pinned on their apron instead. 

Mizuki. 

Because of course their name is pretty. Ena’s grip on the flowers tighten and she hopes she never has to walk into this flower shop ever again. 

And yet Ena fidgets, not entirely fond of the idea of ending this once in a lifetime interaction even if they were beyond insufferable. She’s fully aware of how her thoughts continuously contradict each other and it pisses her off, so she blames the pretty florist in front of her. 

Ena lets out a quiet huff. “I’ll try my best then.”

“For me?” Mizuki questions smugly, innocently tilting their head to one side. 

“Goodbye Mizuki.”

They perk up and Ena can only guess it’s because she’s finally addressed them by their name. Her heart swells at the sight and before she can talk herself into staying, Ena turns on her heels, robotically making her way towards the front door. 

“Please come again!” The melodic voice sings only for her ears and she quickens her pace, trying her best to ignore the way her cheeks tickle and burn. Ena swings the door open with force and beelines her way into her car. 

She all but collapses into the driver seat after spending what felt like centuries attempting to secure the bouquet in the passenger side. Her forehead falls on her steering wheel with a thud and she takes a deep breath. 

No amount of processing could sort out the entanglement of pink that has managed to quickly fill every crevice of her mind after that exchange. It all felt suffocating— the way their intense pink irises never left her brown ones, the unrelenting teases and pretty praises. Ena was sure she’d drown if she stood another minute in there.

Thankfully, she never plans on coming back to this shop ever again. 

Out of sight out of mind. 

And yet, that night, in the dimness of her cramped apartment, Ena finds herself sprawled across the rough carpet floor. Her unrelenting gaze burns holes into the canvas currently being decorated with different shades of pink. Her brush moves with ease as she paints soft locks that cascade like an infinite waterfall. Eyes that resemble cherry blossoms. A smile bright enough to blind. Her hands crave to put the pretty muse she encountered today on paper.

There’s a hunger type of urgency in her that wasn’t there before their fated exchange, immersing herself in it completely, desperate eyes devouring the sight before her. 

Her attention falters as she sneaks a peak over towards the arrangement she now proudly displays on her counter in a small vase. A shy smile spreads across her lips and she sighs, returning her intense gaze to her current piece. 

A month passes and Ena’s sketchbook that was once was filled to the brim with uninspired objects used as references, is now replaced with a variety of different flowers. Any flower she sees, her fingers itch to put them on paper. 

She doesn’t let herself think too hard when this change started to happen or what inspired her at all. 

Airi—curse her pink hair that reminds Ena of a certain stranger she's trying so hard to forget—peaks over her shoulder, the two completely ignoring their professor’s rambling while in lecture. 

“Since when do you draw flowers so much?” She whispers to avoid getting called out. 

Ena winces. 

“I guess since I submitted my midterm…” It wasn’t a complete lie. She chews on her lip and taps the end of her pencil anxiously. “It did help improve my shading.”

Thankfully Airi nods and sits back in her chair, seemingly accepting the answer without much restraint. 

If Ena was being honest, that fateful day has nestled into the forefront of her mind, not having left since. She passed her midterm with flying colors and the selfish part of her wants to drop in and let Mizuki know how she’d done. 

And maybe thank them for playing a large part in her good grade. 

Their final parting words, the way Mizuki sang out to her to visit again. Hell, the entire exchange was on loop in her head since then.

They probably don't even remember her, what was she thinking?

She groans and lets her head fall with a rather loud thud against the desk. Airi gapes at her with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. The noise was so loud it startled even the professor who eyes Ena curiously. 

And that is how Ena finds herself outside the same floral shop for the second time. 

A mix of anxiousness and excitement pours out from the very depths of Ena’s being—starting at the tight knot in her chest, stretching to the tips of her fidgety fingers, seeping down to her jelly-like legs. 

Her first visit offered an excuse to visit them, granted unknowingly, but this time was much different. She has no excuse to cower behind, and the moment Mizuki would realize this would likely turn into endless teasing. Or immediate rejection. It made Ena feel nauseous. She didn’t even know if they like girls, this could very well turn out to be a horrible idea. 

But the prospect of getting to see them again, even for just a moment, even to become friends, makes her giddy. 

Before she can think twice, Ena swings open the door, the air conditioning offering respite from the scorching summer heat. She dons a small smile as she expects to see the pink florist at the register—but it quickly falls into something akin to annoyance and disappointment.

Instead of the soft inviting irises she had been anxiously awaiting to see again, her chocolate gaze meets bright golden eyes laced with evident confusion. The new florist’s appearance was the exact opposite of Mizuki's. Jet black locks highlighted with subtle blue tips, an array of hair clips decorating said locks. She was beautiful in her own right, but not at all who she was expecting. 

She can’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” Her voice lifts in amusement as Ena closes the distance, making her way to the counter. 

The brunette’s nose scrunches at the question, her eyes roaming over her name tag.

An. 

“I don’t exactly know what I was expecting,” she retorts lamely. This is embarrassing, she should leave. Leaving empty handed, however, would look even worse.

“Can I get a handful of pink peonies..?” The only goddamn flowers she remembers from her last visit because of the same insufferable florist she was hoping to see.

Ena can no longer hide her disappointment and the aftertaste creeping along her tongue is bitter. 

An offers one more quick glance of confusion, and something else Ena can’t quite decipher, before beginning to wrap the pastel arrangement up for her. 

“It’s on the house.”

Ena owlishly blinks as she’s brought back from her rampant thoughts. 

“What?” 

"You're the ‘weird but cute brunette’ that spent half an hour ogling Mizuki last month right? They've been nonstop moaning about you since. It's almost kind of annoying."

Ena must've been concussed. Maybe she got into a horrible car accident on the way here, because there's absolutely no way this is happening right now.

“And Mizuki is up in the attic to the left. If you’re curious,” An finishes with a knowing smirk. It leaves Ena burning and dumbstruck. She thinks she blacks out because she doesn’t recall taking the arrangement from her and she certainly doesn’t know what compels her to follow An’s directions to the back of the store. What she does know, however, is that she owes An her life. 

One manicured hand finds purchase at the end of her beige cardigan while the other holds the arrangement in a death grip. Her heart feels like it may burst out of her chest, but nothing could prepare her for the sight she’s met with as she traverses upstairs. 

The attic is rather spacious, homey even. A far cry from Ena’s cramped one bedroom apartment. An inviting futon combined with a matching couch, and warm lighting illuminating the entire space. It was all incredibly cozy. Decorating the walls were posters ranging from bands Ena was familiar with, covers of fashion magazines and—runway models? 

The brunette’s curious gaze falls to the corner of the attic where she sees the pink florist in question, tucked away at a desk with their back towards her. They are surrounded with rolls of fabric that stretch across the floor, embellishing the attic with a multitude of colors. She tries to ignore the creepy mannequins, despite some of them donning beautiful dresses that leave her speechless.

Instead, Ena curiously watches Mizuki who is diligently measuring out fabric with an intent look, a slight frown creasing their delicate brows. Such a serious expression makes Ena huff out a tiny laugh. She quickly covers her mouth, somewhat surprised by the unfiltered sound escaping her, while Mizuki glances up, seemingly caught off guard. 

Their attention then falls to the arrangement in her possession with a grin. 

“Are you getting married now?” They speak deceptively casual, ignoring the fact that Ena not only was caught staring, but snuck up here in the first place. 

Suddenly, Ena’s cheeks feel too hot, like her face is trying to melt off the bones. The embarrassment is suffocating her and she hates how this starts off already. 

“I’m not—” A huff, and she runs a hand through brown locks. “They’re for someone else.” 

“Someone else?” 

“Yes? Is that so hard to believe?” She snaps back, and their knowing smile doesn’t waver. Instead, Mizuki gets up and brings another chair to the desk they were working at and pats the seat innocently. Ena flushes and blames it on the poor air circulation of the attic. There was no possible way they are asking her to sit next to them.

And yet, without thinking twice, the brunette makes her way across the room and into the chair, setting the arrangement down in front of her. 

She wouldn’t want to seem rude, of course.

Seemingly satisfied with her decision, Mizuki continues with their measurements, their all knowing smirk never leaving their pretty lips. 

“It’s definitely not hard to believe. Lying just doesn’t suit you.”

Their bluntness stuns Ena momentarily, who was lost in a trance from their nimble fingers at work and their knees faintly touching. “If they aren’t for someone else then who would they be for then? Since you want to be such a smart ass.” Her choice of words causes her to cringe, but she notes it has zero affect on her recipient anyway. 

The pink florist instead eyes her carefully, a glint of curiosity evident on their features. The suffocating feeling returns, almost as if the month since their last interaction never existed. They pick up right where they left off.

Ena impatiently waits for their stupid retort, but instead Mizuki chooses to continue working in silence, a melodic hum smooth as silk escaping their lips as they busy themselves eagerly. 

What was their problem?

She prays she didn’t upset them. That is the last thing she wants, but she has to admit their humming was ethereal, so maybe being crass was worth it. Her heart thumps in her chest loudly, equal parts anxious and excited. 

Ena blinks—once then twice, realization dawning on her finally.

“I’m Ena by the way.” She mumbles lamely, suddenly remembering they don't even know who she is besides one far off exchange that was likely at the backend of the mind. 

“Enaaa.” They stretch out her name, almost as if testing it out on their tongue. She tries to ignore the way her pulse quickens at how pretty it sounds slipping out of their lips. The same lips her chocolate gaze can’t seem to get enough of. 

“Very fitting name,” they deduce, offering what seems like the first genuine smile today. “Can you hold this for me?”

Ena parts her lips to answer but Mizuki is quicker, wrapping their delicate fingers around Ena’s to help guide her towards the end of the measuring tape, closing her grip for her. The brunette is left slightly breathless, ears scarlet and mouth gaping.

She silently wishes she could seek out the feathery touch Mizuki left on her hand again.

Mizuki’s gentle humming continues as they bring large pieces of fabric up to where Ena is holding the tape, their eyes meet and they offer her a tender smile. Just for her.

“No glasses this time, Ena?” They gently tease. 

The emotional whiplash Ena is going through is too much at this point. Attempting to keep up with Mizuki is exhausting, annoying, irritating.

But exhilarating.

“Mmm, no. I don’t wear my glasses that often actually. You were just lucky that day.” 

Mizuki’s smile grows at the jab. “I do consider myself lucky. I have a thing for glasses actually.” Ena feels like the florist is regarding their luck in a different sense, but she has no idea what they mean. She’s not sure why her pulse ignites because of it either.

“D-Do you ever get tired of being insufferable?” Her voice shakes just a moment, and her cheeks burn scarlet. Selfishly however, Ena makes a mental note to wear her glasses more often, for no reason in particular. 

Mizuki looks at her amusingly, and then they allow their lips to curl, a soft chuckle resonating through the attic. "Definitely not. I've been told it's one of my more defining traits."

They wouldn't be wrong, she thinks. Ena’s heart feels a little lighter, and she convinces herself that the redness of her cheeks is still because of the stupid air conditioning in this room. 

“Did you need a new arrangement by the way? I’m not on shift but I wouldn’t mind helping you out—if you didn’t want An’s help that is.” Mizuki seems proud of the last second tease, the warm light of the attic dancing along their pale pink irises alluringly. 

“No, that’s not why I came,” Ena rolls her eyes, gripping the edge of her seat a tad tighter. “I just wanted to thank you again. For the arrangement last time.” 

Mizuki’s grin is wide and expectant, knowing full well she’s not finished. 

“And I passed my midterm.”

Mizuki abruptly stands at this, one fist in the air, adorning a proud smile. The sight makes Ena’s heart flutter. 

“Congrats!” They plop back into their seat, the excitement evident in their eyes makes them resemble a toddler. “I’m glad the bouquet managed to help then!” 

Ena nods, a small smile of her own spreading across her lips. If this sight was her reward for busting her ass the last several weeks, she’d gladly do it again. 

“So can I see the final piece?” They sing song in a way that is everything genuine and sincere, “Or your sketchbook if you don’t have it.” 

Mizuki is looking her in the eyes, authentic and pure, as if Ena was…she doesn’t know. She’s not used to being looked at in this way. And despite this, she refuses to let the florist see her sketchpad—especially not after the last several weeks which have involved her attempting to replicate the ethereal muse in front of her. Her sketchbook is something she cherishes, hoarding revealing thoughts she most definitely does not want Mizuki to be aware of. 

At least not yet.

“I didn’t bring it with me. I can show you next time though,” she concedes with a dry throat, and when Mizuki leans in, her eyes widen at their sudden proximity. Every freckle on their porcelain skin, the shimmer from their lightly applied eyeshadow, the pale blush dusting across the bridge of their nose. Ena was mesmerized. 

“So does that mean you’ll come visit me again?” Mizuki murmurs, pink eyes dancing across Ena’s features in response to her attentive stare, waiting with baited breath. 

“If I need flowers again. Sure.”

They throw their head back and an airy laugh fills the attic. Ena’s scowl relaxes into a tentative smile at the sound, her gaze reluctantly falling onto the desk assorted with fabric, measuring tapes, clothing pins and the like.

“Is this what you do in your free time?” Her eyes silently appreciate the precision at which the fabrics are stitched and sewn together, the way the colors highlight on another. It somewhat reminds Ena of how Mizuki arranged the bouquet with ease. They are certainly gifted. 

Her fingers lightly trace along the fabric in admiration. The selfish part of her takes pride in the fact Ena is able to uncover another layer to the florist. 

She prays she can discover more, if they give her the chance that is.

“Aha well I try. Being a florist is more of a side gig. An’s dad actually owns the shop, so she hooked me up.” They bring their hand up to their face, a weak attempt at waving off the significance of their talent—the same talent Ena has fawned over the last several weeks.

She can’t let it slide.

“You shouldn’t diminish your talent as a florist though,” she huffs, “…but these patterns are beautiful. You’re amazing.” 

Mizuki stares, mouth gaping, forcing Ena to meet their gaze over the sudden silence that falls between them. She’s quick to notice the tint of red spreading across the bridge of Mizuki’s thin nose. The brunette’s grin is wide, having been able to make them taste a spoonful of their own medicine. 

So praise is the way to get them riled up? Ena also notes that in the crevice of her mind dedicating to hoarding interesting facts about the florist. Which is getting pretty full. 

“Aha…” Mizuki’s laugh is subdued, and Ena can hear the way they sigh deeply, shoulders slightly raising before relaxing all at once. “Thank you…It means a lot. Altering outfits and designing clothes, it's something I love doing.”

The brunette’s chocolate irises seek their pink ones, relishing in the way the gentle attic lighting dances and caresses against them invitingly. There is a sudden shift in the room, like a match having been lit.

Questions swarm Ena’s head, she doesn’t even know where to start. She wants to know what their favorite color is, where they like to go out to eat, everything that makes them Mizuki. 

It would also be nice if she could find out if she even has a chance. 

And then Mizuki takes a quick peek at the time and cocks their head to the side in disappointment, chewing on the inside of the mouth. 

“An is gonna close soon so we’ll have to lock up the shop. It’s my turn to help wipe down the counters.” Ena thinks she hears disappointment laced in the admission, but doesn’t pay it mind.

Ena understands the sentiment however, but she wishes she didn’t. Talking to someone with so much sincerity, albeit laced with endless teasing. She understands the appeal now, to lose one’s self in conversation. Ena is far gone now, she doesn’t even know what compels her to blurt out what she says next. 

“Can I give you my number?” 

Mizuki owlishly blinks.

“What?”

Ena falters and she feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe this was a horrible idea. 

“…Can I give you my number? As friends. You’re fun to talk to,” her voice shakes, “…even if you drive me insane with some of the crap you say…”

Mizuki is close, a few inches away from her, a meek smile threading across their lips. For all of the times they’ve teased Ena, it’s a welcoming sight to see them squirm under similar circumstances. It makes her fall a little harder. 

“Yeah let me just get my phone downstairs—”

“Wait you don’t have to,” Ena interrupts and reaches over the desk for a blue pen they had been using earlier. With it, Ena takes Mizuki’s soft hand, ignoring the way their breath hitches from their lips, and flips it over so their palm is facing her. 

She chews on her lip in hopes that it distracts her from the way her fingers feel so intimate against theirs, delicate and gentle. Ena carefully writes her phone number out on their palm, praying Mizuki doesn’t feel the way her hand is trembling.

Ena doesn’t think twice, lightly blowing onto their palm to dry the ink. She doesn’t see how Mizuki’s lips twitch, how their eyes widen like saucers or the way they thickly swallow at the sight.  

Once she’s done, she needs a moment to breathe, a moment to stop herself from shaking so much. And then finally sets the pen back down, meeting Mizuki’s startled gaze.

They seem to be at a loss for words. They’re just staring, looking at Ena, as if she had just knocked their breath out of their lungs. 

In an instant, their lips break into the most gentlest of smiles, Ena has to look away fearing she might be blinded. 

“Can I walk you out?” The question comes out so naturally and Ena’s heart swells. 

“Sure sure, sorry I interrupted your day off.” 

Mizuki is quick to shake their head, their smile stretching to reveal a row of perfect white teeth. “It was nice. I’m glad the arrangement worked out.” 

The two of them stand in sync and Ena remembers to pick up the arrangement from earlier. As she follows them downstairs, Mizuki calls out to An—who is currently in the corner of the store “helping” one last customer, an extremely flustered and embarrassed customer. 

“I’ll be right back!” They yell, holding the door open for Ena who hurriedly rushes out. 

“Try not to do something I wouldn’t do,” An returns with a smug smile. Mizuki rolls their eyes. 

“I’m not the one bothering a poor customer. If you need me to punch An, just say the word Kohane.”

“A-Ah, it’s fine Mizuki…,” the shorter girl laughs awkwardly, waving off the pink florist as the front door closes behind them. 

Ena hadn’t even realized it but the sun was already setting. She suddenly remembers the piles of assignments that she needs to get done and groans into the palms of her hands. 

She doesn’t regret visiting the flower shop however, not even in the slightest. 

“If I would’ve known better I’d think you’re making that face because you have to stop talking to me.” 

Mizuki’s tone is both teasing and soft as they make their way to where Ena was idly waiting. 

“I went a month without talking to you. I can just as easily go a year plus,” the brunette snorts, evidently not amused that the florist has returned to their obnoxious self once again.

“Don’t be that way Enaaa—” Mizuki wraps an arm around Ena’s shoulder and she stiffens in surprise. As always, the pink florist is keenly aware of what the brunette is feeling and pulls away instinctively, almost as if they were burned. Ena feels her heart stutter a little. If they were offended over her reaction, they certainly didn’t show it. 

She’s not sure if that makes her feel better or worse. 

And yet their sincerity returns just as quick as it had vanished, “Thanks for coming to visit today. I had lots of fun. You can come back whenever, even if you don’t need flowers.”

Ena flicks at them. “Suddenly I’m allergic to flowers I think.”

Mizuki shakes their head with a smile, and laughs. She could lose herself looking at just how beautiful the sight is, the way that the afternoon glow gently caresses their narrow cheeks.

She feels her phone buzz in her pocket, likely Airi, and sighs. 

“I’ll see you Mizuki,” she murmurs and adds an awkward wave while turning to leave. She so desperately wants to stay and keep talking into the night, however both of them have matters to attend to. And she’s still unsure if she unintentionally hurt Mizuki’s feelings or not regarding the embrace. This emotional whiplash was exhausting. 

“I’ll text you!” They call out, a wide grin plastering their pretty lips as they point to their palm where she had written her number proudly. Ena’s face burns and she feels blood roaring to her ears as she whips around, darting to her car. 

“And congrats on getting married again!” 

Ena feels her cheeks darken even more at the quality of Mizuki’s voice, the way it’s carried along the humid summer heat, only for Ena’s ears to indulge in. Despite this, she knows her own rationality too well. The second she starts indulging in her selfish thoughts, the second she starts overthinking…she won’t be able to enjoy these moments with them to the fullest anymore.

With another small wave, Ena shuffles into her car and leaves the pink florist behind. 

Ena sulks in her apartment that same night.

The juvenile shyness she donned earlier is a far cry compared to her scowl now. Here she is, attempting to hold a staring contest with herself using her bathroom mirror. Giving up, she begins to comb her hair lazily, tying most of it in a short ponytail with a shaky sigh. 

Every three minutes, her attention darts over to her phone anxiously, hoping the incoming message would be from an unknown number. And every time it’s always Airi, who is desperately curious to know more of this mysterious stranger that has nestled deep in Ena’s core. 

With a large groan, the brunette collapses onto her mattress. She wraps herself around a pillow, brows furrowed in frustration. Ena does feel kind of pathetic at the same time however. Especially when she’s staring at her screen, blatantly leaving Airi on read who is just spamming nonsensical emojis at this point. 

Maybe she really did hurt their feelings when she got all tense and cold during their half hug. She only reacted that way because it caught her off guard—and she was a little on edge while attempting to sort out her feelings. 

She wouldn’t be opposed to them doing it again.

Ena nearly jumps, her phone buzzing in her grip as it tears her away from her current panic, however this time, the message isn’t from Airi. 

Unknown: Enanan! i hope you made it home safely!!

A timid smile replaces her previous scowl and her pulse quickens. The nickname, however, forces her to quirk an eyebrow up curiously. That’s a new one. 

She clicks on the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she feigns ignorance.

Ena: who is this?

Unknown: your favorite florist who happens to be very pretty and thoughtful :)

Ena: wow i don’t remember giving my number out to An im honored 

She sets down her phone against her forehead, cheeks growing hotter at the familiar banter they fall into. Part of her can’t believe they actually followed through with their promise. She impatiently watches Mizuki type, stop, and begin typing again.

Mizuki: that was definitely rude and unprovoked D: wait does that mean you think An is pretty??

Her nose scrunches up at the last part. Duh. She wasn’t going to admit it though. 

Ena: anyway what’s with the nickname? 

Mizuki: you like it? it sorta dawned on me as i left the shop :)

Suddenly, Ena’s giddy with anticipation and excitement again. Mizuki somehow manages to make her feel like a teenager once more. She rolls over to lay on her side as she clutches her phone and kicks her feet out like a middle schooler. She nearly screams into her pillow.

Even if nothing blossoms from…whatever it is she’s feeling, at the very least she hopes she’s found a friend. 

“Ena! This is serious.” 

“Mhmmm,” the brunette draws out a long monotonous hum, signaling to Airi that she was indeed listening, however that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Ena’s true intentions involve her phone she was distracted by. She tilts her head away from Airi to hide a small smile.

Mizuki: how was class today? :)

Ena: zzzzz

Mizuki: ur always sleepy that doesn’t offer a lot of insight 

Ena: rude

Mizuki: my day was good tho! besides the part where this blonde guy came in shouting and yelling about how he needed flowers for his sister

…

Mizuki: it made me miss a certain angry brunette who’s obsessed with wedding reception flowers :(

Ena frowns, the grip on her phone tightening ever so slightly. It’s been three weeks since Ena has given them her number. Since she’s last seen them in person as well. 

And despite that, the two of them have texted and FaceTimed each other every day, detailing at length of how they were doing and what they were up to. It’s something Ena has grown to look forward to while dealing with the stress accompanied with her college courses and art projects. 

They were definitely friends at this point. The word alone makes Ena cringe however, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

But, she hates saying she has a crush on Mizuki. The insufferable florist who sings praises and compliments her all while making fun of the way Ena may push out her chest in selfies. Their vulnerability when it comes to being sincere and genuine, despite it being entangled with some obnoxious comment five seconds later. The way they send pictures to her of dresses they finished drafting and altering, asking for her thoughts. The way their pretty pink locks shape and cascade—

“Earth to Ena,” Airi snaps and enters her field of vision. “I’ve listened to you ramble on about this stranger for weeks now, the least you could do is help me decide what to bring Shizuku for our date tomorrow.” 

Ena can feel herself blushing at the unexpected mention of Mizuki coming from one of her best friends, although the brunette understands she’s being ridiculous now. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry Airi,” Ena relents, stuffing her phone back into her pocket apologetically. She picks up the pace to match Airi’s steps and brings up her freshly manicured fingers up to her chin. 

“Shizuku loves anything you get her right? Why not just get her flowers—” a brief pause as Ena contemplates further, “and maybe something cat related. She likes cats, yeah?” 

Airi nervously nods and Ena’s unsure if she’s trying to convince herself or agree with the idea until she speaks up. 

“Flowers are a good start, you know a place, right? I mean you must know considering all of the flowers you’ve been obsessed with lately.” She pleads and Ena all but curses. Who the hell told her to bring up flowers anyway. 

“Hah? I don’t actually, why would you assume—”

And for the third time now, Ena stands outside the familiar shop that’s haunted her thoughts for what seems like months now. 

Except this time, Airi is latched onto her arm, talking a mile a minute about a time Shiho nearly convinced Shizuku to microwave a spoon or something. Ena has no idea. She is currently having a meltdown over seeing Mizuki again and hasn’t been able to properly prepare herself. 

Hell, she doesn’t even know if Mizuki is still working today. 

Ena uses her free hand to adjust her glasses. A coincidence that she happened to have chosen them over contacts today, surely. 

“And lately you’ve been wearing your glasses a lot more Ena, what gives? I thought you preferred contacts.” 

She cringes. Airi as observant as ever.

The conversation steers out of hand just as the brunette swings open the door and she feels like an artery may burst. Between Airi and Mizuki, she’s not sure she can handle them both together. 

Speaking of which, Ena’s gaze roams the store expectedly for her object of affection, and then brown meets pink, as Mizuki idly stands at the register.

Ena’s heart threatens to burst out of her chest from excitement. 

Mizuki’s eyes dilate however, in shock most likely. They hadn’t planned anything so it must’ve come as a surprise to see Ena show up unannounced. Their pink irises regard the way the girl who enters alongside Ena has her chest pressed against the brunette’s arm. The way she leads Ena to the corner of the shop in hushed whispers and endless giggling. 

The way they approach the section of arrangements meant for conveying eternal love and futures of endless promises. 

They seem pretty close, Mizuki thinks to themselves. 

Ena doesn’t get a chance to notice the shift in Mizuki’s expression before Airi pulls her towards an arrangement of carnation flowers.

“Do you think Shizuku might like these?” 

Airi is normally so mature, but the moment something relates to Shizuku, all common sense flies out of the window. Ena smiles at the thought. 

“The color goes well with her aesthetically…” Ena trails off, noticing An approaching them with a forced smile. 

“Can I help you guys?” An hasn’t changed since the last time she saw her, but her expression almost looks like she’s…Ena doesn’t know. Disappointed? Over what?

Not to mention, her heart falters a tad at the thought that Mizuki hadn’t come over to offer help instead. Granted, they don’t know Airi—she would’ve introduced them and she’s sure they would’ve gotten along well together. Too well maybe. 

While Airi talks up a storm to An, Ena side steps and tilts her head over to the register in hopes of catching a glimpse of a certain florist plaguing her mind. 

Instead, she sees the ends of their pink locks whisked away behind a door labeled “Employees Only.” Ena’s mood changes considerably in a matter of seconds and before Airi could question where she’s going, the brunette separates from their embrace and tails after the florist. 

“Ah—you can’t go back there,” An measly calls out despite Ena already being halfway through the door.

Ena blinks back her momentary disorientation, finding herself swallowed in near darkness besides a dim light bulb poorly offering respite in the corner of the room. She attempts to take in her surroundings and deduces she’s in a rather large storage room, her nose creasing at the heavy scent of fertilizer and wet soil. 

“Mizuki..?” She whispers, ignoring the way her voice falters. There’s no way they purposefully ran off right? They likely needed something from here and—

“Enanan? What are you doing here?” 

She all but shrieks as she feels a gentle finger press into her back, however the nickname subdues her heart in record timing. Ena spins around and is face to face with the florist in question, their noses mere inches away from each other’s. Her cheeks darken considerably and she’s suddenly thankful the room they find themselves conceals her flush. 

“I just...” she draws in a shaky breath. “I wanted to say hi.” She has to squint, but the indifferent stare laced in their expression goes unnoticed. 

This doesn't seem like the same Mizuki she’s gotten to know the last several weeks.

She can feel their stare, and Ena can’t handle it, not at the moment anyway. Her heart steadily picks up its pace again and she’s looking everywhere around the storage but Mizuki. 

“Did you need help with flowers or anything?” The teasing lilt she’s grown fond of is missing and Ena feels her chest constrict. She has no idea what’s going on. Everything feels so off. 

“No? I mean, that’s not what’s important here,” she closes her eyes for a second, focusing on controlling her breathing before continuing. “…Are you ok? Did I do something to offend you?”

Mizuki smiles at this, but Ena notes it doesn’t quite reach their eyes. “I’m fine, trust me. I think I’m just a little tired.” Lowering their voices, they add, “…and you could never do anything to hurt me.”

With this, Mizuki takes a step back and Ena almost stumbles forward, following them, like a moth drawn to a candle. 

“I should get going though. An is waiting for some soil and I don’t want her running the shop all on her own.” 

Ena is taken back by the entire exchange. The missing banter, the indifference etched in their face. She’s not sure what to say or where to begin, but as she sees Mizuki about to head for the door, her body moves on its own. She shoots her hand out and takes their wrist, reeling them back in front of her. 

She refuses to let them go until something is resolved.

Ena’s fingers have now stilled, and they burn against their skin where they are still gently wrapped around Mizuki’s thin wrist. 

Her lips move against her own will and she suddenly doesn’t even recognize her own voice anymore. 

“Do you want to come over to my apartment this weekend?” 

Mizuki seems taken aback, a moment of evident vulnerability fleeting on their face. “What?”

“Every time we’ve seen each other it’s been here. In the shop,” a shaky sigh and she urges on. “I just think it’d be nice to hang out somewhere else. Maybe watch a movie.” 

Mizuki opens their mouth, but the door to the storage room opens again, the one poking her head in is a face Ena knows well now.

 “Hey, sorry I couldn't stop Ena— oh.”

An’s golden eyes widen at the sight in front of her. Mizuki and Ena, closed together inside the dark and dingy fertilizer storage for almost twenty minutes, just a couple of inches apart. “Sorry I’ll leave.”

If the tension between the two wasn’t so heavy Ena would’ve likely found the entire exchange entertaining. 

“Okay.”

Ena’s eyes light up at this and she turns back to face the florist. This..whatever this is may still be salvageable. The way the familiar gentle glint has returned to their pink irises, their shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. The tension was dissipating, albeit very slowly. 

“Okay,” Ena resolves with an exasperated sigh. “I’ll text you my address.”

With a timid nod that frankly doesn’t fit Mizuki at all, their attention falls to their wrist. The very wrist that Ena has had her fingers wrapped around for quite some time now. With one last comforting squeeze, the brunette retracts her fingers to her side and fidgets. 

She misses their warmth considerably.

There’s still something unresolved, but at least Ena can pester them about it in the comforts of her own place and not a storage room during the middle of Mizuki’s shift.  

“I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Saturday it is,” Mizuki repeats after a beat, idly watching Ena as she awkwardly turns around. “And Ena—”

The brunette blinks and stops in her tracks, her hand already parting the door halfway. 

“You really didn’t do anything wrong,” their voice is above a whisper and Ena feels her stomach twist. “…It was really nice getting to see you in person again.” 

It takes a second, but Ena finally digests what they’re saying to her. The two of them stand there, staring at the other, both of them red-faced and enveloped in the darkness of the closet. She doesn’t trust her voice at the moment, not with the way it’ll likely tremble with any response, so she resorts to a quick nod and hastily leaves the closet. 

The air conditioning from the store front offers significant respite for Ena and her heated blush, her irregular breathing managing to slowly steady itself. Before she gives her mind an opportunity to analyze what the hell just happened, she searches for Airi who is idly waiting outside with a bundle of carnations held against her chest. 

As if the emotional whiplash and turmoil she’s had to endure for the last half an hour wasn’t enough, Ena can definitely feel the way An is attempting to send the absolute worst vibes in her direction. The comfort of the floral shop she’s grown so fond of has now makes her uncomfortable and she hates the feeling. 

She doesn’t even remember when she leaves and pulls Airi towards her, putting distance between them and the shop. 

“I ended up going with these, you were right—Hey wait are you okay?” Airi gapes at Ena whose face is contorted with worry all while sporting a crimson blush. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” Please don’t press further, she prays. 

“You definitely don’t look fine. Where’d you even run off to anyway?” 

Ena’s frown deepens, “I was looking for a certain type of soil,” she chews on her lip hard. “For my plants…”

“For your plants? Since when do you have plants? Ena whoever this mysterious person is has you seriously whipped.” 

Ena says nothing for a moment as her clammy hands grip the straps to her backpack with force. It finally dawns on her that she has legitimately invited Mizuki to her apartment, alone, all while something was clearly bothering them. 

Ena brings a hand to her face. The absolute darkness of her palm helps focus her thoughts, and she poorly attempts to sort them out through the pounding in her skull.

She is so fucked. 

“Ena,” Airi’s voice crackles life into her phone, annoyance seeping in every sentence she utters. "I'm serious. Don’t overthink it. It’s just a friend coming over to hang.”

“Right. Just to hang out and watch a movie.”

“Yes, just a movie.”

“Today.”

“Yes… Today.”

Ena paces in her living room and she thinks her heart is nearly about to give out. Who in the hell told her to invite Mizuki to her place? And why had they agreed to it? She thinks back to how visibly upset they looked in the storage and she’s suddenly overcome with guilt. 

Even if she has no idea as to why.

“You guys are just friends right?” Airi pulls her out of her panic and Ena can sense the amused smile she’s likely sporting on the other line. “Just pretend it’s me instead.” 

The brunette’s nose scrunches at this. “Yeah but I like, like them.”

Airi’s unhinged laugh nearly bursts her speaker and Ena has to physically move her phone away from her ear all while grimacing.

“Good luck Ena! Tell me how it goes!” 

Before she’s given an opportunity to retort, Ena is met with a click and then silence. A loud groan and she throws her phone onto her couch with a bit of force.

This is ridiculous, Ena feels like she’s in middle school again. The persistent insecurities and comparisons that plagued her identity for most of her life, following her like a shadow as she enrolled in college, is rushing back into her lungs at full force. 

Her head is spinning and she tries to pinpoint when exactly these thoughts began to subside. The answer leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Meeting Mizuki for the first time.

Knowing all this and silently hating herself for it, she decides to focus on the logic of Airi’s mature advice, knowing that her perspective could help steer her towards calmer waters. 

Focus on today. Mizuki should be here any minute—

“Enanan!”

The brunette chokes, nearly tripping over her carpet as the familiar, silky voice calls out from behind her front door, followed by a soft series of knocks. Her pulse picks up in speed and only now does she realize how much she’s longed to hear their voice again.

She takes one last glance at her appearance: her favorite oversized beige sweater, a pair of black leggings and mismatched socks. 

And her glasses.

Incredibly casual and comforting, but she hopes Mizuki likes it. 

Steeling her nerves, Ena makes her way to her front door and just as she is about to swing it open, Mizuki muffles out something even louder. 

“Hurry up please, I’m losing my grip on these bags!”

She quirks an eyebrow at this and purses her lips. 

“Maybe I should leave you out there, you know as payback for being so mean to me all the time,” Ena calls back from behind her door with the world’s largest shit eating grin. 

“Enanan! You wound me—shit.” They’re clearly struggling on the other side of the door, so the brunette decides to show some mercy. 

Their familiar banter falls into step again, a playful push and pull between the two. Ena falls a little harder.

She’s met with her favorite pink florist as she opens the door, awkwardly standing in the hallway to her apartment as they poorly attempt to balance a set of grocery bags and an arrangement of soft white flowers. She feels her cheeks begin to warm up.

Flowers?  

This is definitely something only friends do.

“These are for you,” they smile, so tender and meaningful. Mizuki offers the arrangement to the brunette who gratefully takes them, albeit slightly flustered and red in the cheeks.

“Ah, thanks…” Ena mumbles lamely, opening the door a little wider for them. “Come in, you can set whatever the hell the bags are on the kitchen counter.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” They snicker, slipping past Ena as they set the bags down with a sigh of relief.

The brunette takes a quick peak to appreciate Mizuki’s outfit, a pink long sleeve with a complimentary white cardigan and a cute skirt. Their hair is loose, pink locks falling across their shoulders effortless and Ena decides it’s her favorite Mizuki look.

Their exposed legs force Ena to look away, however, not without the tips of her ears turning scarlet. Seeing them outside of the floral shop, in her home. It feels so right. The thought leaves her head spinning, a fire igniting in her stomach.

As she turns and follows Mizuki into the kitchen, Ena begins to work on putting the arrangement into a vase in hopes that it can offer some distraction away from her beating heart. 

“So what do these flowers mean?”

Mizuki straightens up and offers a nervous chuckle. “Excuse me?” 

“…The flowers. Do they have a special meaning?” Ena eyes them curiously. She hadn’t expected such an innocent question to evoke a nervous Mizuki but the sight is definitely welcome.

“Well—yes…” 

The brunette can’t hide her annoyance anymore but she’s not going to keep pestering Mizuki, especially if it makes them uncomfortable. So instead, she drops the topic entirely and makes her way next to them into the kitchen, peeking over their shoulder and into the grocery bags. 

“Brownie mix?”

Mizuki perks up at this, “Yes! I thought before we watch stuff we could make brownies. If that’s okay with you?” They ask as they begin to wash their hands. This all felt so...domestic.

Ena owlishly blinks. She hates how much she likes the idea of the two of them baking in her kitchen.

“That sounds fine. I never thought you’d be the type to willingly want to cook Mizuki...” She hums thoughtfully, casually leaning against her counter. 

“Oh, thinking about me then? And so what type would I be?” Mizuki smirks and takes a step closer to directly meet Ena’s deadpanned frown. 

If only they knew. 

“I think you’re the insufferable type who gets off on teasing me.” Ena huffs. She bumps their shoulder with hers playfully and joins them in washing her hands.

Mizuki laughs and it sounds melodic and beautiful. “You know I don’t mean it Enaaa. I only enjoy it so much because your reactions are so cute.”

She can feel her ears burn at the way Mizuki’s boldness flows out of their pretty lips. 

“If you like them so much then I guess you can make the brownies all by yourself.”

“Wait, wait Enanan I’m sorry!” The brunette tosses her hand towel at Mizuki, her face contorting into a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. There’s no way someone can just act like this, say these…things, to all of their friends right? The thought makes Ena feel a little nauseous. 

“Your punishment is having to hand mix all of the ingredients.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

The two of them fall into a comfortable silence, diligently cracking eggs and measuring out assortments of ingredients that are then spilled into a large glass bowl. Their movements are synchronized, reminiscent of a duet or private dance they’re so familiar with.

“Your apartment is very you by the way,” Mizuki perks up, working their way towards mixing up the brownie batter. 

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Ena’s back is towards the florist as she wipes down the counter and tidies up the trash. “Being a broke and starving art major doesn’t offer a lot of options.”

“It definitely is a good thing,” Mizuki responds genuinely. Doing something together like this, simple and domestic. Ena’s heart feels full despite her slight hint of nervousness. Their last exchange in the shop was still at the forefront of her mind, but Mizuki, right here and now, was back to acting as if nothing had happened.

It somehow makes her even more confused. 

“Mizuki I think we should—”

As Ena turns around, she’s graced with a thin finger dabbing a large amount of batter onto her cheek. Mizuki stifles a laugh, their face mere inches away from Ena’s with pink cheeks blooming. 

“Oops?”

“Mizuki!” Before the pink florist can retract their hand away, Ena harshly grabs their finger and pulls it down with a bit of force, causing them to nearly collide into one another. 

Mizuki bursts out laughing now, one hand gripping the edge of the counter at Ena’s side, the other entangled in the brunette’s tight grip. They essentially cage in Ena, she can feel their warm airy laugh ghost against her cheeks tantalizingly. The sight makes Ena feel like a teenager again, lovestruck and dumb, her fickle heart playing a tumble of emotions. 

“I’m sorry Ena…” Their laughing fit subsides and they use their free hand to reach over for the hand towel. “I’ll clean it off for you.”

Before Ena can retort, Mizuki is already leaning in with the softest of smiles and a faint blush, gently rubbing the towel against the brunette’s cheek. Her brown irises widen. Ena is struck dumb with how their proximity makes Mizuki a thousand times more beautiful. Her attention falters to their pink lips.

She selfishly wonders what it would be like to close the distance between them, what it would feel like to kiss Mizuki. Crossing the barrier of being just friends.

Mizuki catches Ena staring and their blush darkens. It was just a few beats of quietness, of gentle silence in between them, of words unspoken, words that seemingly neither side want to risk the monumental consequences that coincide with rejection and fear. 

“...Ehe all done...” Mizuki squeaks out, detangling their wrist from Ena’s grip. Her skin was searing just from the minimal contact. 

It was now or never and Ena refuses to have them ruin the moment. 

Mizuki wipes their hands using the same towel and tosses it back onto the counter, their cheeks still bright red. “Anyway, what are we gonna watch—”

Ena interrupts Mizuki mid sentence, her manicured hand reaching out for their same wrist, the grip this time however, was much more relenting. It allows resistance, if Mizuki wants to pull away. Ena’s long dormant heart feels like it’s about to leap out of her throat, pounding a loud rhythm in her ears.

“Mizuki. I need you to shut up for a minute and listen to me.” Ena’s voice was wavering, her resolve was crumbling, but she's dug her own grave already. Mizuki’s pale irises meet hers and with baited breath, they respond with a hesitant nod.

Ena exhales. “I don’t know what happened at the shop last time. Whatever it was. I-If I did something. You can tell me no matter what. We’re friends. All I know is—” She feels her hands trembling.

And then, the always intuitive and thoughtful Mizuki brings both of their hands into Ena’s, intertwining their fingers, and offers a comforting squeeze. A silent urge to continue. It gives Ena the resolve to finish. 

“…I just know that I don’t want you feeling that same way again. So you can trust me with anything… Anything on your mind...” If not for the way Mizuki’s thumbs were tracing soothing circles onto the top of her hand’s, Ena would’ve assumed she upset them. The silence is long and drawn, their hands swaying between them to the beat of the silence.

“I told you nothing you could do would upset me,” Mizuki says softly, and they squeeze Ena’s hands again. 

“Then why were you—”

“I was insecure… Jealous too,” Mizuki swallows and it’s Ena’s turn to meet their gaze. The molten pink irises with hints of mischief and playfulness she’s grown so fond of seeing is a far cry to what she faces now. Uncertainty clouded with hesitation, fear…something else Ena can’t quite decipher. 

“…Where did you put the carnations by the way?” 

The question is so random, it momentarily disorients Ena who has no idea what Mizuki is talking about anymore. 

“Excuse me?” Her throat is dry, but with their hands interlocked, she’s gained a bit of resolve.

“The carnation’s you and—” They flinch, and if Ena hadn’t been attentive to every crevice and corner of their face, she would’ve missed it. 

“The carnation’s you came to buy last time, I was just curious where you have them. They need a good amount of sun.” 

Hurt is etched in every syllable, it almost looks like Mizuki is in physical pain. And why were they so concerned about the arrangement she and Airi—

The realization of it all knocks Ena’s breath away. It happens all at once. The feelings she’s been so desperately trying to swallow nearly suffocate her, she has the need to clarify whatever it is that may be running rampant in Mizuki’s mind. And so, with this impulsive surge of courage, she lets herself dive head first into uncharted waters.

“Mizuki, I don’t know what you’re thinking—but Airi and I are not dating.”

Mizuki seems at a loss for words, and Ena dares to hope, taking it as a good sign. They haven’t sneered in rejection or stormed out of her apartment, after all. That has to mean something.

Ena silently watches the tension in Mizuki’s expression and shoulders slowly dissipate, the gears in their mind seemingly trying to digest and process the sudden overload of information. 

“I’m sorry if it looked that way—”

“I just thought…” Mizuki draws in a shaky breath, glancing down at Ena’s intertwined fingers as she now squeezes back in comfort. “The second time you came to visit the shop. To visit me. You tensed up when I put my arm around your shoulder…” 

Ena remembers the moment vividly and she’s still overcome with guilt. This was now her chance to clear up this messy web of misunderstandings. And although her stomach is doing somersaults out of anxiety, there was a hint of hope. Hope that…something can develop here. 

“I brushed it off, and I certainly couldn’t blame you. I thought maybe you just weren’t a touchy person, and I was still a stranger at that point.” 

Mizuki tilts their head up, their attention now regarding the ceiling, feigning interest. Donning a sad smile with a distant gaze, they shakily continue. 

“And then I saw you come in with that pretty girl wrapped around your arm. The two of you looked so close and I know it’s selfish of me to think this way, but I hated the sight of it. To me, it suddenly made sense why you were so tense with me that afternoon.” 

Ena holds her breath. They’ve said so much, in so little time, and she has no idea where to begin, until she realizes Mizuki isn’t done. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to speak with me again. It’s incredibly selfish of me to act the way I did…and it wasn’t fair to you either. I'll leave you alone and we can pretend like none of this ever—“

Ena’s fingers suddenly disentangle themselves from Mizuki’s and a sense of dread permeates every inch of their body, crawling up their spine.

The frigid separation is so abrupt, neither have the time to process how she steps on her tiptoes and clutches Mizuki’s shoulders instead, the back of her hand affectionately brushing against the pink bangs across Mizuki’s forehead.

And then she closes the distance between their lips.

It’s not hungry, desperate or rough. The kiss encompasses the sweetness and vulnerability of honey, of innocence and tenderness. It's all of the things that she imagines when it comes to kissing Mizuki. It leaves Ena’s head buzzing numbly, the way their lips press and mold against each other, how she captures Mizuki’s quiet gasp against her mouth. 

The pink florist is struck dumb, unresponsive and awkward, until they aren’t. Their lips move timidly against her own, and Ena can feel the way Mizuki’s tension slowly, inexorably melts under her grip, with their stiff shoulders relaxing. They’re cupping her thin jaws, now, holding her close.

Ena has been hoping for this for so long, that now that she has it it feels unreal, a dream about to crumble right between her fingertips the moment they part. The way Mizuki’s gentle touches tentatively move from her jaws and down to her oversized sweater, gripping the sides, grounding her to the only person who matters at the moment.

Ena feels herself being gently pressed back against the counter as Mizuki tilts their head, bringing their delicate hands up to her cheeks once again.

Eventually, the kiss comes to an end. When they part, Ena doesn’t immediately open her eyes. She’s afraid, more than she has been in a long time. However, she can’t regret it, not when her own lips are searing and her heart is about to leap out of her throat.

When she does open her eyes, the expression on Mizuki’s scarlet dusted face is so unreadable that it should terrify her— but her chest, for just a moment, is simply too full to care.

And Mizuki’s thumbs are still caressing her cheeks tenderly.

“You of all people should know I can’t just stop talking to you.” Ena murmurs, voice hoarse, a faint whisper against Mizuki’s lips. “Talking to you is one of the few things I look forward to…among other things that all lead back to your insufferable self.” Her voice is fragile, made of glass.

The brunette senses the way Mizuki's knees almost give out under them in relief, as soon as they realize that Ena won’t be leaving them, that whatever this unspoken thing is… has an opportunity to blossom further. 

Ena leans in and presses her face into the florist’s shoulder, ignoring the way her frames pinch her skin slightly, reveling in the faint perfume that smells like vanilla lavender and everything flowery. Because of course it does.

“…Do you want to know what the flowers mean now?” Mizuki breaks the silence. Who knew such an innocent question could be laced with so much evident fondness. Ena can hear the way their heart rhythmically thunders against their chest and she wonders if hers is just as loud. 

Ena's thin brows furrow, evidently confused. “Hm?"

“The flowers…they’re white anemones. They mean sincerity and genuineness. I just thought they reminded me of you.” Ena feels her face burn a hundred degrees hotter and she stifles an airy laugh into the nape of Mizuki’s neck. 

There’s something priceless, juvenile, about someone who is the epitome of sincerity gifting her flowers reflecting similar faith.

“W-What’s so funny?” Mizuki mumbles, their molten gaze falling to the brunette beneath them. She could get used to this side of them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Ena innocently hums. “It’s just nice seeing you all flustered like this after the way you torment me all the time.”

Mizuki bites back a laugh, their pink locks cascading around Ena like a curtain making her laugh in return. The ends tickle and brush against her cheeks faintly.  “Very true—I don't know how you deal with me sometimes.”

The florist relents once more before the two of them can fall back into their familiar banter. “Can..we take it slow, from here? I want this to be right…” It's the first time either one of them addresses openly whatever this is. Ena's pulse quickens.

"I really, really like you..." They finish lamely, the tips of their ears matching a pretty shade to the color of their hair. 

Ena’s hands find purchase along their waist loosely, idly playing with the ends of their soft cardigan in hopes that it can steady her breathing.

“You can have as much time as you need Mizuki.” After everything they’ve endured just in the last several hours, this was the easiest sentiment for Ena to reassure Mizuki with. They had all the time and the world, there was no need to rush. To emphasize her point, she presses a feathery kiss against the base of their exposed collarbone which elicits a small hitch in Mizuki's meekly breathing. 

"And what exactly is...this...?"  Ena drawls out, her breath ghosting the column of their throat as a gentle finger pokes at the two of them.

Mizuki flashes a wide smile at the question, leaning into Ena’s embrace and the brunette squeezes back instinctively. To an outsider, one would assume the two had been together for years with the way they fall into their familiar embraces. 

“Well I’d really like you to be my girlfriend. If you want titles that is. I don't really mind. It’s up to you—”

Before Mizuki can run off on another tangent, the boldness of their confession makes Ena’s own heart feel a little mushy, and she leans in, giving Mizuki a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’d like that very much. On three conditions.” 

Mizuki’s expression, so full of affection and playfulness, falls to something akin to worry in record timing. 

“Sure, anything…” They even start to chew on their bottom lip and the sight sparks something deep in Ena’s gut.

“You have to stop teasing me, no anime tonight and you have to clear up this mess with An. She was about to kill me last time I visited.” The corners of Ena’s lips quirk up into a faint smile seeping with self-satisfication. A part of her feels a tad guilty over their unwarranted fretting however. 

“Enaaa—teasing you is part of my charm. You even said it yourself…” Mizuki laughs again, letting their head fall as they bump their nose against Ena’s affectionately. Their breath tickles the brunette’s face. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you coincidentally wearing your glasses today.” 

Ena starts blushing again, but this time her signature scowl flashes across her face. She hates how easily they can flip the table against her. 

"And no promises. An is very, very protective of me. She's like my own personal bodyguard," Mizuki states proudly.

“Here you go again, I legitimately cannot stand you.” Ena takes her manicured hands and reaches up to cup Mizuki’s cheeks. The pink florist blinks, confusion replacing their playful lilt until Ena pinches them, hard enough to get her point across.

“Ow ow ow okay, okay!  Who knew my girlfriend was into pain…” She’s unsure if it's Mizuki testing their newly distinguished title so casually, or their stupid comment after the fact, but frankly Ena doesn't care. She pinches both of their cheeks once more with a exasperated huff, her brows furrowing in annoyance. 

Something akin to their usual carefree laughter and a choked out whine slips out of Mizuki’s pretty lips, their hands reaching up to rub their cheeks that match the shades of their hair for two very different reasons now.

“Enanan don’t be that way please. I’m sorry,” they draw out with a playful whine and to emphasize their point, Mizuki tenderly rests both hands along Ena’s jaws, fingers grazing against her ears. There is something so similar to adoration, lighting up Mizuki’s eyes, it leaves Ena a little breathless. 

And to make matters worse, the pretty pink florist begins a tender onslaught of feathery pecks and kisses all along Ena’s nose, her cheeks, grazing up to her scarlet tinted ears. Mizuki is careful to place quick kisses along every crevice, a silent apology in a way that is very much like them. Ena laughs hard, a soothing, gentle sound against the dotting assault.

The heat pitted in Ena’s gut ignites again, albeit for reasons stretching from devotion to adoration. Deep in the confines of her heart, in between all the silenced aches and muted wishes, she finally has Mizuki. Here and now.

Together. 

And they were, here in their secluded place away from the world, with as much time as they needed for each other.

Mizuki: i think you love your portfolio more than me :(

Mizuki: who willingly works on course work during winter break?? 

…

Mizuki: oh wait my gf that’s who 

Ena: well for starters my portfolio doesn’t bully me maybe u should take notes 

Mizuki: </3 

Ena: and anyway im already almost at the store ill see u in a bit :) <3

The two of them have been together for months now. The blistering summer heat has now been replaced with the frigid December temperatures. With so much time between them, having experienced so many things together, Ena and Mizuki knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. 

Long nights were spent simply talking to each other of things they’d never told another soul, about insecurities and worries that they’d never reveal to anyone else, and then finding respite in the familiarity of each other’s arms as they whispered words of understanding and comfort.

And for what seems like the millionth time now, Ena stands in front of the flower shop she’s grown to love, however now adorned with white festive Christmas lights that Ena helped Mizuki hang during one of their shifts several weeks back. 

Before she can let the winter chill settle down her spine, Ena swings the door open in search of the inviting heater of the store, and maybe indulge in her partner’s warm embrace. 

The light jingle of the bell at the top of the door alerts Mizuki of her presence, and they look up in time from behind the counter with the widest of smiles. They shimmy out their apron and tackle the brunette with an inviting embrace. Ena melts into their arms with a tired sigh. 

“Are you finished with your shift today?“ She mumbles into their arm, the faint smell of earthy soil and floral perfume engulfing her nose comfortingly.

“Yep! Wanna come up to the attic with me for a bit? I have to finish some alterations,” Mizuki offers. Ena doesn’t have to respond, the two of them already making their way upstairs. 

Ena raises an eyebrow with a playfully lilt edging her voice. “Weren’t you just making fun of me for working during the holidays?” 

“Hmmm. I don’t remember that happening,” they feign ignorance. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.” 

She rolls her eyes and pinches their arm in retaliation. She’d normally have a witty retort primed and ready for them, but after working for so long under the stress and suffocation of another final project, the weathered futon and mountain of blankets in the attic was a much more enticing prospect. So she throws herself onto it, sighing happily.

The attic to the flower shop hasn’t changed much despite the months, however there’s now a growing number of paintings by a certain brunette that adorns the walls. Just one of the many examples of the way Ena has managed to nestle into the crevices of Mizuki’s heart as they have done to her. 

Mizuki takes a quick glance at their girlfriend who’s now burrito’d her way into a dozen different blankets and laughs, the same gentle sound that Ena can never get tired of, even if it's at the expense of her pride. 

“Stop laughing at me.”

“But you look so cute Enanan,” Mizuki sing songs and makes their way over to the burrito in question.

“I thought you had to work on alterations—”

Mizuki interrupts Ena mid sentence with a kiss full of wanton want, the brunette can’t help the sound that escapes from the back of her throat. The kiss sears against her lips, and Ena responds eagerly with full force. 

Awkwardly, she attempts to worm her way out of the entanglement of blankets and pulls Mizuki onto the futon with her, their airy laughs in between kisses ghosting her crimson cheeks. Mizuki surges forward once more, and thin hands are tangled into Ena’s dark hair, pulling at her scalp slightly.

“…I do. I just missed you,” they mumble into the kiss, the two of them sinking into the futon with ease. It feels like her chest is about to implode and collapse on itself. Mizuki tastes sweet, Ena doesn’t think she’ll ever grow tired of their kisses. 

“I missed you too…” She has to pull away to stifle a yawn that overcomes her, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

“I’m sleepier than I thought…” Ena mumbles through swollen lips, and her head falls back into the mountain of pillows. 

Mizuki hums teasingly and pokes her cheek. “You’re always sleepy.”  

Even in the dimness of the attic and blurry vision, Ena can see just how vivid the pale pink color is in Mizuki’s eyes, and she also see's unconditional fondness that ignites her gut.

As they catch her staring, Mizuki offers a smirk so smug, all of the affection she felt suddenly evaporates—shifting into annoyance instead. And so Ena flips over, her back now towards the florist. 

Mizuki, on the other hand, takes this as an opportunity to scoot closer, their chest flush against Ena’s back, who silently curses at the way her cheeks still burn over something so innocent as to cuddling. 

When Mizuki moves to wrap an arm around Ena’s torso however, in their usual way of cuddling, the brunette stiffens. Mizuki retracts almost instantly. 

“Is something wrong?” They whisper, brows furrowing in worry.

“Can I be the big spoon?” 

At that, Mizuki bites their bottom lip and uses all of their remaining strength to not burst into tears. “…Does it really matter? I thought you liked being the little spoon.”

Ena abruptly turns around again to face her partner with a huff and her signature pout—not to mention, her face is bright pink. 

They’re so annoying. Of course it matters.  

“Just let me be the big spoon for once. Please.”

It’s Mizuki’s turn to flip around while laughing and Ena is fast to find comfort against their soft back. Her hands snake around their torso, and her face nestles into the crook of their neck as they’ve done for months now. She feels the way Mizuki melts into the embrace, reminding her of a house cat.

And so with both of them enveloped in each other's presence, they settle in close to one another, sharing their warmth in the winter night.

It’s the tiny bit of sunlight creeping through the curtains that stirs Ena awake and she has to blink away the blurriness that’s overtaken her vision. The way the mass of blankets shield her away from the morning frigid temperatures seeping into the attic, the subtle hum of the heater interrupting the would be silent ambience. 

The way her arm has lost all feeling, the slight dip of the futon beside her, the entanglement of limbs in familiar places.

Ignoring the minor aches and stiffness in her joints, Ena turns her gaze; she’s unable to contain the soft smile that threads across her lips.

Ena’s heart swells at the sight that awaits her.

She holds her breath as she soaks in the beautiful image of Mizuki, tangled pink hair splayed across their pillow, lips slightly parted as they exhale deep in their sleep, chest rising and falling slowly against her arm. Ena watches for some time, memorizing and appreciating every crevice of her partner; and just as she was inspired during her first visit to the flower shop, the brunette craves to put her muse on paper once again. 

And so Ena gets up.

She presses a kiss onto the crown of their head, careful of not disturbing their sleep. Slowly, she detangles her stiff limbs from her partner, albeit begrudgingly, and makes her way to her bag across the attic. There, Ena takes her worn out sketchbook out and sits in Mizuki’s usual chair. She’s given the perfect angle, the way the streams of sunlight accentuate their thin features, revealing a light pink blush that stretches—

“Why’d you leave?” Mizuki mumbles, voice hoarse and quiet, pulling Ena away from the comfort of her own thoughts. “…Are you drawing me?” 

Mizuki blearily opens their eyes for a moment and shuts them just as fast, pulling their pillow against their chest with a sigh of content.

“I am,” Ena states matter-of-factly. They can tease her all they want, but the view is angelic. Ethereal. Other worldly. Of course it was her job as an artist to appreciate beauty, who was she to turn away from her obligations?

They hum a little into their pillow. “Am I that pretty?” 

“You are.” Pale pink meets brown irises that swim with endless adoration and Mizuki can barely keep themselves together under her gaze. 

And the way Ena says those words with such genuine earnestness, Mizuki is forced to stuff their crimson face into their pillow. If Ena wasn’t normally an attentive person, she would’ve missed what they incoherently mumble out next.

“...Well I’m honored I can offer some inspiration for you.”

Instinctively, Ena stops mid sketch and begins to idly flip through her sketchbook. There’s an over abundance of pink—it’s blinding. And when there wasn’t, there were flowers. Every flower Mizuki has offered their knowledge on over the months has found a place along the pages. 

And every page leads back to Mizuki, everything that encompasses who they are, who Ena has fallen in love with. A gentle finger runs across the very first sketch she drew of them, the way they so easily nestled into the deepest pits of her heart that summer afternoon. 

Ena's face is burning, but the admission comes natural. She has no reason to hide it. “You’ve been doing that for quite some time now.”

As she looks up from her sketching, curious about the sudden silence, she’s met with her beautiful muse who has dozed off again. A faint smile forms on her lips, and Ena casts one more tender peak at her partner.

She wishes nothing more than to preserve this moment, as the two of them bask in their own world with no one else but each other.

And so she does.