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It had seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Maki wasn’t the type who liked romantic gestures. Couples’ holidays meant little to her, and Yuuta suspected she’d only bought him Valentine’s Day chocolates because he was more of a romantic than she was. So, really, this should never have escalated the way it did. She would care little about whether she received anything in return for her obligatory chocolate, so a vase of lilies for White Day seemed like the appropriate reply, even if she would probably rather have had a knife.
Yuuta had sniffled on the train ride home, and an older woman in a surgical mask had given him a sour look, but that should have been all the complications that arose from the purchase of the flowers. If he could exorcise a special-grade curse, he figured, he could hide a pollen allergy for the thirty minutes he had to hold the bouquet.
This had not, in the end, been the case.
“Flowers?” Maki asked at the door, raising her eyebrows. Still, she accepted them. “What for?”
“What do you mean, ‘what for’?”
She began to look even more skeptical. “Why’d you bring me flowers?”
“Maki,” he said, a little faint with surprise, “it’s White Day.”
“…oh.”
“I know you don’t care that much, but, ah, it’s kind of what you do, right?” he said, laughing a little. Really, though, that had more to do with his relief at having been able to let go of the offending flowers than anything else. “Since you got me chocolate. And…well, I like being predictable sometimes.”
Maki looked at him, then down at the vase of flowers in her arms, and though she tried not to show it, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks.”
“I know you’re probably not really a flowers person, but-“
“Yuuta,” she cut him off. “Thank you.”
She hadn’t mentioned the flowers again, though she’d asked why Yuuta’s eyes were watery for the hour that he’d sat across from the vase in the middle of the table during dinner. But when he next came calling, there they were – a vase of thoroughly wilted lilies in dirty, half-evaporated water, still sitting in the middle of her kitchen counter.
“Those don’t look so hot anymore,” Yuuta commented, hoping secretly that she’d agree and shove them into the trash can before his immune system decided that a hit of histamine was in order. He thumbed one of the waxy petals, then made a mental note not to touch his face until he’d had a chance to thoroughly wash his hands.
“They’re fine,” Maki said, a little defensive.
“Sweetheart, they’re almost dead.”
“Don’t call me that,” she replied, like she always did. He’d stopped for a while, until a comment she didn’t think he’d read into had revealed that she only deflected that way because it embarrassed her that she didn’t mind his pet names.
“They’re almost dead,” he replied, without the pet name this time.
“They’re not dead.”
“I said almost. And the water is almost gone.”
“So add more,” she suggested.
Again, he stroked a waxy petal. “Uh, honestly, at this point, I don’t think that’s going to save these.”
“Then they’re fine,” she decided.
“Maki, why won’t you just throw them out?” he thought for a moment, then added, “I wouldn’t be upset. At all.”
“I just want to keep them, okay?”
“But why?”
Maki finally looked back at him. “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”
And Yuuta didn’t know how else to react to a thing like that except by showing up the next night for dinner with a bundle of tulips under his arm.
“No vase this time,” he said, hoping she would assume that his eyes were watery with emotion and not irritation. “Since you already have one.
Maki tried not to smile. “You got me flowers again?”
“Well, you said you liked them,” he said sheepishly, looking down at his shoes. “If I was wrong-“
“No.” She snatched the tulips from his arms before he’d even raised his head. “You weren’t. Thanks.”
But she didn’t take the lilies from their vase like he’d expected her to. Instead, he watched in mild horror as she cut the stems short enough to prop up his tulips in a tall drinking glass and set them next to the lilies, which, by now, were well and truly dead. He would have been moved by her sentimental refusal to throw away a gift he’d given her if he hadn’t been so hopeful that, at very least, his poor allergies wouldn’t be faced with two sources of pollen at once.
“Maki-chan,” he asked, “don’t you want to get rid of the dead ones now?”
She glared at him. Point taken.
The tulips, at least, took longer to die, even in their improvised vase, but Maki’s mind remained unchanged: both vases had to stay. He had never expected Maki, of all people, to grow attached to flowers, of all things. But, though she never actively said that she enjoyed having them around, she certainly behaved as if she did. She hoarded them almost jealously, and, when Yuuta handed her a bouquet of camellias at dinner because he’d seen them in the store and thought that they looked pretty this week, she looked – however hard she tried to hide it – pleased. She set them to the side of the table while they ate, didn’t glare at the waitress when she asked questions, and seemed unfortunately resolved to unknowingly continue compelling her boyfriend to wipe his nose with his napkin until the end of time. It should have thrilled him.
Yuuta had known when he’d told Maki he was serious about her what he was getting into. She would probably never share his sentimental tendencies or long to be tenderly romanced – she wanted a partner, companion, and friend, more reliable than starry-eyed. He was fine with that. He was Maki’s friend, before and above all else; but that didn’t always mean he didn’t wish he could tell her things she’d roll her eyes at. So an unexpected taste for gifts of flowers was exactly the kind of surprise he should’ve loved. And would’ve.
If only he could’ve been born into a body that didn’t mistake said flowers for an imminent threat to his well-being.
But such was his life. She’d never had anyone to give her flowers before, and if she liked the novelty, he could tolerate watery eyes and a runny nose. He wasn’t going to die of it. He could keep his mouth shut about the water glasses of brown, withering flowers crowding Maki’s kitchen counter, and shell out a little more to buy the flowers that came in vases if she just couldn’t bear to throw them out. He’d bring fuschia one week, forget-me-nots the next, and if he thought the dead bouquets were a little morbid, he reconciled himself to the idea of keeping quiet about it. After all, they made Maki happy, and that was a rather hard thing to do.
Besides, it was sort of sweet if he thought about it, a woman most people feared as a perfectly-honed killing machine loving flowers. It seemed to speak to a softer side she rarely even let her boyfriend see.
“You really like flowers,” he commented lamely, setting out her latest vase one afternoon. The first sunflowers of the season had appeared in the floral section of the supermarket recently; he’d taken the opportunity. He did have to pause to sneeze, though.
“I like them better when you don’t sneeze on them,” she said drily, though her eyes were bright with amusement.
“Sorry. Must be getting a little sick.”
“In May?” she narrowed her eyes. “You don’t usually get sick this time of year.”
“Yeah, well, dunno,” he deflected. “I guess my immune system just doesn’t like me.”
It’s the flowers, he easily could’ve told her.
“You didn’t already know that? You’ve been all sniffly since, like, March.”
He hadn’t counted on her noticing that. “Have I?”
“I know you know you have.”
“Well, I mean-“
Her spoon paused midway between the ice cream carton and her mouth. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird!”
“Yuuta, are you dying?”
“Of course I’m not” – he paused, thinking he was going to sneeze, and set down the vase a little too hard when the urge passed – “dying, Maki, where would you get that idea?”
“Well, for one, you almost dropped the flowers when I brought it up.” She crossed her arms. “You being startled almost always means I was right.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t because you asked me if I was dying.”
“Oh, really,” she said flatly.
“That was just because I was about to sneeze.”
“Because you’re dying?” she asked.
“I know you don’t actually think I’m dying, Maki.”
“No, but I do want to know why you’re acting so weird about being sick.” She set down the ice cream carton, walked over to his side of the couter, and took his chin in her hand, turning his head as if to inspect him. “What gives, Yuuta?”
“Maki, it’s-“
“Yuuta,” she pressed.
His shoulders slumped. “Allergies, probably.”
“Okay, but to what?”
He gave her a mournful look. “A lot of things.”
“You say that like you know exactly which one it actually is and you’re just not telling.”
Right and right again. “Maki-chan, it’s-“
“Is it something in my apartment?” she asked anxiously. “Do I have mold?”
“Since when do you worry about things like mold?”
“Well, what else would you be-“
“Pollen.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the pollen.”
Both fell silent. Maki narrowed her eyes, deep in thought, then they widened again.
“From all these flowers,” she translated. “You’re allergic to flowers?”
“Um…a little.”
“You idiot. Why did you keep buying them?”
“Because you loved them!”
“Wait, you thought I loved flowers?”
“You won’t throw them away!”
“Yeah, because you gave them to me!”
Yuuta opened his mouth to speak but then shut it. His face reddened.
“It was never the flowers, Yuuta,” she admitted, looking away. “I just…really liked it when you gave me stuff.”
He took a moment to process, then wilted like the two-month-old White Day lilies Maki still hadn’t thrown out. “Are you serious?”
“Are you serious?” Maki challenged. “What were you going to do when we moved in together, keep buying me flowers and pretending they didn’t make you sick?”
“They don’t make me sick, Maki. Just kinda uncomfortable.” He offered her a weak smile. “You always seemed so happy when you got them.”
“Yeah, I was.” She still wouldn’t look at him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “But not because they were flowers.”
“You just liked presents?” he guessed.
“Yeah. That.”
“I was so nervous,” he admitted. “That you were going to figure out I was allergic and make me stop buying them.”
“I did,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but…it’s different now.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you kidding me?”
“About what?”
“I could’ve just bought you, I don’t know, phone chargers this entire time? And you would’ve been just as happy?”
“Actually a lot happier,” Maki told him. “I broke mine last week.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So what have you been using?”
“The one I stole from you.”
“And what were you going to do if you broke that one?”
“Use the one I stole from Nobara.”
“Honey, I think that’s kleptomania.”
“It’s practical,” she huffed. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then why did you never throw out the old ones?”
She gave him a dirty look. “I already told you.”
“Just because they were from me?”
“Mm.”
He didn’t make nearly as big a deal out of that as he wanted to. It probably would’ve scared her, and as far as shows of appreciation went, greeting her with a heavy-duty three-yard phone charger the next time she visited his apartment was far more effective.
“For me?” she asked.
“Why else would I be holding a phone charger, Maki?”
She grinned, unabashed this time. “Thanks.”
She would break it within weeks, he was sure. Maki never had learned how to be gentle with things. Still, it seemed to please her for now. And so did the disgusting new flavor of chips he found at a convenience store and gave her to add to her collection of novelty chip flavors. So did the pair of floral socks like the ones she liked to wear under her favorite purple slides. So did hair ties to replace the ones she was always complaining about losing and takeout after long days at work when they hadn’t been planning to see each other.
To Yuuta’s delight, he found that Maki was neither discriminating nor difficult to please, and she had meant it when she said that she’d liked the flowers not for what they were, but because they’d been gifts from him.
And he didn’t miss the little ways she told him that – replacing the worn-out mousepad he kept in his office on the Tokyo campus, refilling his favorite hand soap, putting in an order for more of his contact lenses when she noticed the stock on his bathroom counter running low. She never announced it, and she probably wanted him to assume that the soap dispenser had always been full or he hadn’t been running out of contacts after all, but he was never fooled.
And that was one concession to her preferences that he would never make: he was always going to point out those little gestures Maki made for him, no matter how much she wished he’d pretend nothing had happened.
“I don’t even know how you remembered which soap to buy,” he’d praise her. “I don’t even think I would, and I bought it last time.”
“Yeah, no,” she’d counter. “You definitely would.”
“Would I?”
“That’s the only kind of soap I’ve ever seen you use.”
True. He swore by his Lemon Verbena.
“Still,” he said, smiling. “That was sweet.”
“Um.” Maki looked down at the couch, picking at a crack in the suede. “Glad you liked it.”
“You’re sweet.” He pulled her close enough to kiss the side of her head and didn’t release her once he was done. “You don’t think it, but you are.”
“Oh, really? Is that why the higher-ups are after my head?”
“You’re sweet when you want to be.”
“I’m not sweet, Yuuta. I’m attentive. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me,” he told her, squeezing her waist. She’d always liked it when he did that for emphasis. “I think they’re the same.”
“Hm.”
“And I love that about you.”
“Love what about me? A quality that I don’t actually have?”
“Maki-chan,” he said gently, “you don’t have to defend yourself. That isn’t an insult.”
“But it’s not me,” she said softly. “I’m not…nice like that.”
“Maybe not, but you notice stuff,” he replied. “And you care enough to do something about it.”
“Well, yeah,” she said hollowly.
“That’s its own kind of sweet.”
“And if I didn’t order your contacts, you’d forget to get more when you ran out, and then walk around blind for a month because it kept slipping your mind.”
“Maki-chan,” he said solemnly, “I love you so much.”
“Mm.” She reluctantly relaxed, leaning against his shoulder. “Love you too.”
“I love you enough to hide pollen allergies for two months,” he chuckled, kissing her hair again.
“Yeah, that was kinda dumb.”
“Geez. Harsh.”
“But true.” She turned to him, smiling. “Are you denying it?”
“Well…” he sighed, then paused to kiss her before he started up again. “Nope.”