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Touya stands amidst the crowds of the market stalls. It’s his father’s way of introducing him to the flourishing commerce and trade that is their kingdom, but instead, all Touya’s been doing is staring at a certain autumn-haired boy at the other end of the street.
There. It’s a little flower stall - a wooden stand crowded with tall sunflowers and maroon heleniums and delicately petaled Japanese anemone, and brilliant red cardinal flowers.
But, amongst the vivid colors of the flowers in the light of the setting sun, what catches Touya’s eye most is the boy that mans the stand, carefully picking the slender stems of the flowers and presenting them with a smile to his customers.
The sunset’s pink light stains the boy’s orange hair and lightly freckled skin beautifully, and his jade green eyes flicker up to Touya for a moment, and he waves discretely before focusing on his next customer.
The boy’s name is Akito Shinonome, and Touya is down horrendously bad.
Akito - he’s just too perfect. The way he holds the flowers so carefully, the way he scratches the back of his neck when nervous, the way his freckles are like stars to the night sky, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, genuinely, the way -
Well.
As previously mentioned, Touya is down horrendously bad.
He used to despise being out here, in the bustling marketplace. There were too many people, too many obnoxious sounds.
Now, he makes any excuse to go outside.
Touya awkwardly tugs at the edges of the hood that covers his hair before crossing the street, heeding the horse-drawn carriages struggling to get through the seas of people.
“Oh, hey. ‘Was wondering if all you were going to do was stare, your highness.”
Touya flushes ever so slightly, pulling down his hood to reveal his half-toned hair. “Can you make a bouquet for me?”
Akito raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is there a certain someone you’re giving it to?”
Touya shakes his head. “No, no. I would just like a bouquet made by you, I suppose.”
Akito turns ever so slightly to hide the reddening of his face, but it still is apparent in his ears, and Touya laughs ever so slightly. “Oi. Don’t stay stuff like that out of the blue, please.”
Touya simply smiles and watches Akito arrange a bouquet.
He plucks pink, white, and red roses together - seven, to be exact - and places them onto a roll of waxed newspaper. Then, he takes three dwarf sunflowers and places them amongst them, and, at last, a singular carnation in the center before wrapping it up expertly in the newspaper and tying it with a neat bow.
“Here you go, prince.”
Touya doesn’t not notice the fact that Akito’s blushing hard and distracting himself with the hydrangeas on the left side of the stand.
They’ve grown to be quite close over the past months. Touya would slip out of the house to visit him, and Akito would always greet him with a smile.
During those months, he learned three important things about the other:
One: Akito loves sweets obsessively. Touya had invited Akito to Ken’s coffeeshop once his shift ended, and Akito proceeded to buy a heaping stack of pancakes drenched in syrup and whipped cream and strawberry jam and finished it in a matter of seconds. Then, like a deer caught in the headlights, he looked up back at Touya and turned bright red.
Touya simply smiled, reaching over to wipe the last bits of whipped cream off the other’s face.
(It was quite endearing.)
Two: Akito’s smile to others was fake - a “customer service smile,” it was called - and when Akito really smiled, it crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened his expression. Touya had seen it himself, and he vowed to never forget.
It was when one of Akito’s cats - strays, really, but they loved him and visited him daily - was lazily soaking up sun on Akito’s shoulder. Upon seeing Touya, it jumped onto him, and Touya barely caught him in time.
It curled up in his chest, and when Touya looked back up, Akito was smiling fondly, warmly, staring at him with something that could only be described as adoration.
(It was beautiful, so beautiful.)
Three: Akito was brusque and occasionally came off as abrasive, but beneath that, he was the kindest person Touya had ever met. Touya remembers when he approached the flower stand as it closed, the streets empty. It was the only place Touya could think of, with his heart covered in ice and his eyes filled with tears.
Akito was there. Akito was a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold him closely and simply be there. For forever, that was all Touya wanted - someone, someone who could hold him as he trembled and cried.
For forever, Touya simply hid himself under his covers and sobbed uncontrollably, clutching onto a pillow, begging for someone - anyone, hell! - to be there, to comfort him.
That night was the first time someone really did.
They sat underneath one of the many perfectly-pruned trees, the moon their only witness, and Touya buried his face into Akito’s shoulder and cried and hiccuped, tears soaking the other’s shirt.
Akito simply wrapped his arms around Touya, calming him with his steady heartbeat and warming presence, running his fingers through Touya’s hair cautiously, as if afraid to overstep his boundaries.
And when Touya finally pulled away, face puffy and red, Akito pulled him back, and Touya did not object.
(It was love; he was in love.)
Thus, now, as Touya takes the bouquet and places a slice of cheesecake and a small bag of coins on the counter, he smiles brightly.
When he returns to the starkly decorated walls of his chambers, he beelines to his bookshelf, removing a book gifted by Ms. Azusawa from its spot on the shelf - The Meaning of Flowers.
Carnations: fascination and affection.
Sunflowers: “I want you for life, thank you.”
Red roses: love and romance.
White roses: purity and dedication.
Pink roses: admiration and gratitude.
Seven roses: “I am infatuated with you.”
Touya feels himself smile uncontrollably, and he delicately places the bouquet in a vase, filling it with water, before flipping through the book to search for a bouquet to return to the boy.
“I love you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re perfect.”
The next day, underneath the bright blue sky, he places a bouquet on the counter of Akito’s stand and leaves, blending in with the crowd, before the other can say a word.
Ten neatly picked sunset-colored roses, pale-blue forget-me-nots, and purplish bluebells. A little note is attached to the string wrapping the bouquet together.
These flowers bloom only for you.
Akito stares at it all, blinking dumbly for a moment, before his face abruptly turns bright red and he whips his head towards where Touya is, who is waving at him with an infuriating smile from across the street.
“...fucking hell, that's so cheesy...” Akito mumbles, burying his face into his hands.
And Touya, who has been watching Akito, smiles fondly before taking the long walk back home.
He’s got to thank Azusawa for those flowers.