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Sitting on the stairs, Claire watched him work from between its gaps. The way his steady hands handled money and wrapped bouquets; the way he’d bend, ever so slightly, when serving a customer with a child.
Claire knew he wasn’t used to it, conducting his business in a shop rather than a stall, but he didn’t show it. Wilardo was elusive and mysterious, yes, but he was also confident and charming—particularly when working. To him, people and their feelings were confusing, but plants and their feelings… those he understood. Those he was good with.
So, while Claire was able to notice the slight crease that formed in his brow at dinnertime, knees forced to press against Sirius and Claire’s due to their small, round table, she was never able to see it while he worked. Not even while dealing with customers.
Claire heard the doorbell ring and the door creak shut as Wilardo’s last customer of the day, a kind young woman picking up a bouquet for her grandmother, exited the store. After a moment, Wilardo sighed; from one of the closets behind the counter, he pulled out a broom. Wilardo vanished from her sight as he got out from behind the counter, and Claire inched herself forward, desperate to keep watching.
She froze when she heard the stairs creak beneath her. Claire watched Wilardo stop and lean the broom against one of the shop’s many planter boxes; for a moment, Claire thought he hadn’t heard the creak, only for him to suddenly turn around and meet her eyes.
He cocked his head to the side, a faint smile on his face; Claire gaped at him, frozen, until she came to her senses and dashed back up the stairs.
God… why did all her most recent moments of humiliation involve Wilardo.
——————
It had been around two and a half months since the incident with the witch’s mansion—Dorothy’s mansion, Granny’s mansion. Sirius still treated the deep cuts that littered his body; Claire still awoke screaming from nightmares in which she saw the dead bodies of Sirius and Wilardo, killed because of her laziness; and Wilardo still drew eyes in the corners of all his paperwork, and bodies mutilated by countless eyes or dagger-like thorns on the back of unused receipts.
It had been around one month since they’d bought their current home, converting the downstairs into a flower shop for Wilardo and leaving the upstairs much the same. Wilardo had put forth half of his savings to buy and renovate it, but his donation was easily overshadowed by Sirius and Claire’s—the former having a surprising amount of money in the town bank, left to him by his parents and Dorothy, and Claire having finally gathered herself enough to be able to sell her guardians’ old house and some of her old belongings.
After getting out of the mansion, Claire had invited Sirius and Wilardo to stay with her in her cabin. It had been… terrible, to say the least. While it was roomy for one, it was insufferable for three, and Sirius had been on the verge of a mental breakdown before Claire suggested that they move into her old home. It was dusty, and Claire spent a lot of time shut up in her guardians’ old bedroom, but at least Sirius no longer wanted to kill her.
But while the house was nice, after a few months they all agreed that it would be better for them to get a fresh start. Thus began their search for a house, and for Wilardo and Sirius to flesh out a business idea that they—Sirius—had come up with: a flower shop.
When together, the group talked about the future a lot—what they wanted to do, what they didn’t. No one ever asked how long they’d stay together, or talked about a future the others weren’t apart of.
Between them, there was an implicit promise: they were going to be staying together for a very, very long time.
——————
“Hey, Elford, help Booker unload the wood he just brought in, would you?”
“Yes, sir!” Claire obediently replied, wiping away the sweat that had built up on her brow. Building was hard work, especially in the summer, when the heat could get excruciating and the sun beat down relentlessly.
While Claire and Sirius’ newfound money would be enough to support them for a while, they’d used most of it for construction, and as Wilardo’s business was new, it was yet to turn a major profit. As such, they’d all agreed that Claire and Sirius should take up jobs, too.
Sirius had found one fast: being versed in many different languages, he now worked as a translator at the town’s archives, translating whatever was put in front of him into the local dialect. For Claire… finding a job had been a bit harder—a stable one, that is. Claire possessed practical skills, rather than intellectual ones, and had drifted from small job to small job, mainly cooking and cleaning, but sometimes helping people conduct repairs. It was this repair work that had introduced her to the town’s small group of builders, who had eventually welcomed her into their ranks after seeing how… well… strong she was.
Claire’s shifts were flexible and infrequent, meaning that she found herself with a lot of free time. While she used some of it to window shop, bake or work-out, she was unsure what to do with the rest of it. Sometimes she napped, sometimes she read—easy books she had taken from her old room, none of Sirius’ dense, complicated ones. But most often, she helped out in Wilardo’s shop.
She… she liked working with Wilardo. While working, he had a whole new feel about him; Claire felt like she could go on about it for hours, but to put it simply…
He was just so pretty.
——————
Claire had probably always found him pretty—the strong colour of his skin, the surprisingly delicate curl of his eyelashes—but the first time she had realised she found him pretty was when Wilardo had been showing her how to work the shop’s till.
It had been late in the afternoon, just before Sirius usually arrived home and just as the sun was setting. The dwindling sunlight had hit Wilardo in a way that made him glow, and it was in that moment that she realised she’d never be as pretty as him, no matter how hard she tried.
Noticing her gaze, Wilardo had looked up at her; in that moment, something seemed to occur to him, too. But while Claire was sure her newfound enamour was displayed plainly on her face, his was unreadable. Like always.
——————
Upstairs, there was a joint dining and living room, a small kitchen, one bathroom and three bedrooms—one for each of them.
Every night before bed, Claire would knock softly on Sirius’ bedroom door, asking to be let in. Usually, he answered on her first knock, but sometimes, especially if she’d done something that annoyed him earlier, he answered on her fourth or fifth. No matter what, though, he always answered.
Sirius was, as much as he liked to deny it, a very… lonely individual. And after getting out of the mansion, he’d made up his mind to never purposely avoid interaction again. Especially not with Claire: she had a habit of vanishing when he most needed her.
“Sirius~,” Claire cooed as she knocked, “it’s me!” Their bedrooms and bathroom were all down one small hallway: Wilardo and Sirius’ bedrooms were on one side and Claire’s bedroom and the bathroom were on the other.
After a few seconds, Sirius opened the door. He looked tired, and just a little sick. The two of them had been growing their hair out together, though his wasn’t nearly as long as hers. During the day, he wore his hair in a low, loose ponytail tied with a black satin ribbon; at night, he let it hang loose.
“Hi, sleepy-head,” Claire smiled as she entered his room, shutting the door behind her.
“Hello…” Sirius replied, sitting down on the edge of his bed, waiting for Claire to sit down on the floor in front of him. She did, leaning against his legs as she passed him her hairbrush. Initially, Claire’s nightly visits had just been to see Sirius. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t—really, Claire had just wanted to be around him.
Recently, Sirius had taken to brushing her hair every night. Claire wasn’t sure why, but she liked it all the same.
“So… you sick?” Claire asked after hearing Sirius sniff a concerning number of times.
“Mmm, not really,” Claire leaned back and gave him a look, “okay, maybe a little. But only because my office is… pretty musty. I’ve been dying to give it a clean, but things at work have gotten really busy.”
“Hmm…” Claire thought to herself, “maybe you could wear a mask? I can make you one!”
Sirius scoffed as he separated her hair into sections. “You? Sewing? Just remember to call a doctor in.”
“Hey! I’m very good at sewing! In fact, I was planning on going to the fabric store this weekend. I want to make some new summer dresses~.”
After a while, Sirius sighed. “Summer… huh? Has it really has been that long…?”
Claire nodded. She supposed Sirius didn’t get out enough to notice the change in seasons. For him, it was still spring; for him, he still had a mansion to go back to.
“I miss them,” Claire said bluntly. “Both of them. And I know you guys had hard experiences with them… but I can’t help missing them. I just hope they’re doing okay, wherever they are…”
“Ashe…” Sirius took a deep breath after saying his name, “I’m sure Ashe is doing fine. Even if you’re the only one that misses him.” For a second, Claire thought she felt Sirius’s hands shaking in her hair. “And Noel, Noel’s smart. There’s no bad situation he couldn’t get himself out of.”
For a second, Claire managed to smile; “I know it’s selfish, but I kinda hope they miss me, too… even if it’s just every so often.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. You have an unforgettable presence—things feel a lot lonelier when you’re not around.”
“… You mean that?”
Sirius nodded: “I do.”
Claire left after Sirius had finished brushing her hair, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead and suggesting that the three of them go out and do something ‘summery’ sometime soon. Sirius supposed something of the sort could be fun. As long as it didn’t involve any heavy lifting.
——————
“Wow! These are so pretty!” Claire gasped, leaning down to get a closer look at the new box of flowers Wilardo had just got in. “What are they?”
“Peonies,” Wilardo replied from behind the counter, “I’m glad you like them. The customers seem to, too.”
Claire smiled down at the pretty pink flowers as she sprayed them. Today, Claire was helping water Wilardo’s flowers while he sat behind the counter, running numbers. In the background, lazy music played from the old record player Claire used to keep in her cabin, which had now found permanent residence downstairs in the store. The record currently playing was one she and Wilardo had bought together in town—the ones Claire owned didn’t exactly fit the ‘vibe’ Wilardo wanted for his shop.
“You can pick one, if you’d like,” Wilardo said, “since you like them that much…”
“Really?!” Claire clapped her hands together excitedly; she took her time picking out which peony she wanted, settling for a half-opened one at the edge of the container—she didn’t want to pick any of the really good ones. Flower in hand, Claire danced her way over to the register, making Wilardo let out a barely audible laugh.
“What’s up?” Wilardo asked as Claire lent over the counter, face coming dangerously close to his. In response, Claire sniffed the peony once before carefully sliding the flower behind Wilardo’s left ear.
Claire leaned back to observe her ‘work’; “pretty,” she giggled softly, and Wilardo looked down at his hands, willing the heat that rose to his cheeks to go away. He didn’t know why Claire was able to fluster him so easily—no one else had managed to in years.
Thinking she had made him uncomfortable, Claire jumped back; “sorry, sorry, sorry.”
Wilardo shook his head; “no, no, it’s okay…”
The two stood in silence for a few seconds, afraid to look at each other. Afraid what might happen next.
Luckily for them, a distraction came quickly around the corner: Sirius, who had gotten off work early for the first time in weeks. He moved his mask down and frowned after stepping into the store, immediately able to sense the awkward atmosphere pervading the shop.
“Did you two… fight, or something?” When neither of them said anything, he sighed. “Well, whatever happened, I’m home early, so let’s go upstairs and have some tea.”
“Ah…! Actually, Wilardo and I aren’t quite done in the shop yet,” Claire quickly said, finally managing to pull herself together. “I still have a few more boxes of flowers to water, and Wilardo’s not quite done doing his… finances… yet either.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll just some tea downstairs then, hm?” Claire and Wilardo nodded.
After Sirius headed up the stairs to put away his things and put on a pot of tea, Wilardo and Claire shared a long, silent look. She wanted to say something, he wanted to say something, but instead, they went back to work.
——————
Claire raced ahead when the crest of the hill came into sight; behind her, Sirius groaned. Summer was coming to an end—a dismal summer of work and staying inside—and Claire had demanded they do something summery before it did. Claire loved summer, and she couldn’t believe that she’d been so wrapped up in work—and trauma, she supposed—to enjoy it.
A summer picnic would just have to do.
“This better be the best fucking picnic spot ever,” Sirius shouted between gasps. “For all the… all the…” Wilardo subtly put a hand on Sirius’ back, helping him up the hill, “for all the walking you’ve made us done…!”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! It’s not that steep. And this walk’ll have done you wonders, what with you staying inside at the archives 24/7!” Sirius grumbled, but didn’t have enough air in his lungs to fight back.
Claire grinned smugly when Wilardo and Sirius reached her side. Despite her teasing, the spot she’d led them to was the best picnic spot she knew. It was a grove reminiscent of the ones she and Sirius used to play in when they were younger, with beds of pretty summer flowers and a large, cool pond that Claire desperately wanted to swim in. Not that she’d brought any swimmers with her; not that that would stop her.
“Let’s go!” Claire cheered, linking arms with Wilardo and Sirius and leading them down the slope to the grove. Wilardo set out the food while Claire and Sirius explored; after some investigation, Sirius found a rock near the picnic blanket to perch on and Claire kneeled in one of the flower beds, picking some to make a flower crown with.
Wilardo called for them when he’d finished setting out the food, and Claire and Sirius made their way over to the picnic blanket to join him. They began with sandwiches, as much as Claire would’ve liked to start with cake, and Sirius ranted about an annoying new co-worker as they ate. Apparently, they had dared to wish him a good morning while he was copying out the reference list of a fascinating article he had transcribed the day before.
Sirius moved back to his rock when they finished, bringing a book with him. On the picnic blanket, Claire began creating her flower crown, and Wilardo watched her work, sitting close enough that Claire could just feel the brush of his shoulder against hers.
“D’ya want this?” Claire asked. “I’m very good at making flower crowns, I’ll have you know!”
Wilardo chuckled: “I bet you are.”
Claire smiled at him, her tummy warm. And, as he hadn’t said no, she carefully slipped the crown onto his head after finishing it.
“You look nice with flowers in your hair,” Claire commented absentmindedly.
Wilardo smiled at her fondly; and maybe it was the way he was looking at her, or maybe it was the cool breeze that drifted across the grove, but Claire felt a newfound confidence swell inside of her. And, using it, she leaned against Wilardo’s chest.
He flinched, and Claire regretted her stupid confidence until she felt an arm wrap gingerly around her waist. Immediately, Claire blushed; after a second, she clutched wordlessly clutched at his arm, hoping her hands hadn’t begun to sweat. They stayed like that for a while, feeling each other’s racing pulses. When Sirius spared a glance at them, wondering why they—Claire—had gone so silent, he pulled a face, but didn’t disturb them until he decided that it was time to cut the cake.
Claire moved away from Wilardo so she could cut them each a piece, and then another for her and Sirius—Wilardo never had much of an appetite. As she was eating, Claire realised that she’d been so distracted by Wilardo that she’d only done half of the things she wanted to do in the grotto that afternoon.
The first: make a flower crown—check. The second: swim in the pond.
Claire didn’t have many desires, meaning that when she did, she had them hard. So as much as she’d like to spend the afternoon cuddling with a surprisingly snuggly Wilardo, she wanted to get in the pond even more.
After waiting for the cake in her stomach to settle, Claire made her way over to the water's edge. She pulled a face at her reflection before sliding her pale green summer dress over her head and kicking off her shoes, leaving her in a yellow singlet and pink shorts. The pond water was cold, but that didn’t stop Claire from wading into it; Sirius and Wilardo watched her gobsmacked, not sure what she was trying to do—aside from give herself hypothermia.
“Jesus, Claire. What are you doing?” Sirius yelled.
“Uh, swimming? Duh!” she yelled back, “what are you doing?”
“… Being normal?”
Claire rolled her eyes.
When her fingers began to prune, Claire decided it was time to get out of the water. She shook herself off, gathered up her clothes and wrapped herself in the jacket she had brought with her. Sirius had returned to reading on the rock while Wilardo was still on the blanket; when Claire flopped down beside him, he looked at her, clearly amused, and asked: “was that fun?”
Claire grinned at him, swinging her feet into his lap: “absolutely.”