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“Opportunities are like sunrises.
If you wait too long, you miss them.”
— William Arthur Ward
There’s a profound sense of comfort that can only be acquired through very particular scents in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s life. The smell of fresh flowers, clean laundry warmed from the dryer, the scent of book pages – old and new, coffee first thing in the morning, and the lemon in his daughter’s scent.
Kiyoomi watches as his three-year-old daughter expresses her creative soul in her colouring book, with a small smile and a heart overflowing with an abundance of love.
“Pink,” she declares, proudly and around a bubbly giggle.
Kiyoomi kisses her on the top of her curly dark hair, even as she turns Totoro into a pink furby with purple eyeshadow and light green teeth.
“My creative little girl.” Kiyoomi praises as he nuzzles his nose into her hair, to breathe in more of her scent that’s part lemon – hers, and part honey – his. Oh so carefully, as to not jostle her too much and risk ruining her work of art.
She spent the better part of the tranquil morning working on it, and Kiyoomi would be distraught if his carelessness was the reason his daughter’s hard work is brought to naught.
She’s as happy as a clam, tipping her head back to beam at him. “Mama like?”
He smiles down at her, nodding enthusiastically to convey just how much he likes it. “I love everything you do, my little one.”
Etsuko’s scent grows strong with joy, her dark brown eyes warm and bright. Kiyoomi unclips the daisy clip in her hair to fix her fringes, then he pins them to the side, neatly and out of her lovely eyes.
The little bell attached to the front entrance jingles softly, announcing the presence of a visitor to their flower shop.
Kiyoomi looks up and sees a man, so tall that his face is obscured by some of the potted plants hanging from the ceiling. He’s dressed in smart casual wear, the shirt stretching over a broad chest and wide shoulders.
Kiyoomi picks Etsuko up from his lap and places her in her high chair. Whispering soft words of comfort when Etsuko makes a noise, pressing a kiss to her round cheek to reassure her. With quick hands, he shifts all of her materials onto the table top of her high chair so that she can continue to be preoccupied and entertained.
“Welcome to Flowers and Ferns. How may I help you?” He greets in his friendly, customer service voice.
Kiyoomi rounds the corner of the counter to approach the man browsing some buttercups by the shop’s window. His nimble hands, that were mindlessly brushing the wrinkles from his apron, pauses in mid motion when the man turns to look at him.
Their eyes meet.
For a moment, everything around them seems to slow down and blur out of focus.
The man’s warm and earnest eyes reflect the sunlight shining into the store. There’s specks of gold melted between the olive and hazel. Mesmerising in a way that causes Kiyoomi’s breath to hitch in his chest. Sandalwood wraps around him, like a protective bubble. There’s the unmistakable musk of an alpha reinforcing the earthy and rich undertones.
Kiyoomi’s blood sings in his veins, like a frozen river woken by spring.
Something in the man’s gaze makes Kiyoomi’s heartbeat quicken. The honey in his scent starts to entangle itself into the sandalwood, filling up the entire store until the combination becomes the only scent he can focus on. Warm and tart.
Kiyoomi forces himself to break eye contact, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Etsuko is right where he left her – she is. Her cute little fist clenched around an orange colour pencil, carefully colouring within the lines.
When Kiyoomi glances back, he’s unaware that there’s a subconscious smile on his face. But the man with dark olive-brown hair is still looking at him, eyes immediately drawn to the upturn of his lips.
Tentatively, Kiyoomi clears his throat and meets the man’s gaze. “Are you looking for something specific?”
The alpha seems to recall the purpose of his visit at Kiyoomi’s helpful enquiry. His stern features are stunning, even as they accommodate a sheepish expression.
“Yes – pardon me.” His voice is so deep and timberous, it sends shivers down Kiyoomi’s spine. “I am looking to purchase a bouquet for a special occasion.”
“Do you have specific flowers in mind?” Kiyoomi hums thoughtfully when the man shakes his head. “What about a colour scheme?”
The alpha’s intimidating size and impressive build may demand admiration and respect, but his scent clearly depicts the inadequacy he feels regarding his cluelessness with floral arrangements. There’s something so endearing about it. Kiyoomi’s heart can’t help but flutter despite his better judgement.
“Perhaps you should give me some recommendations.” The man suggests, after concluding that he no longer wishes to purchase a custom made bouquet.
Kiyoomi leads him to the selection of bouquets available in-store and gives him brief explanations on the types of flowers used in each bouquet. Then, allowing the man to take his time browsing, Kiyoomi makes his way back to the counter to check on his daughter.
Kiyoomi is in the midst of encouraging her to drink from her sippy cup when the man approaches the counter with a light pink bouquet. It looks comically small, held awkwardly in his large hand. The man is looking at Etsuko, who stares up at him with big doll eyes filled with the endless wonders and curiosities of a child.
“Totoro?” She says in a whisper, glancing up at her mother as she points a tiny finger at the big man with the flowers.
Flustered, Kiyoomi hurriedly closes his hand around her chubby little arm and brings her hand up to kiss. “No, sweetheart. It’s not polite to point your finger at people.”
“Totoro, mama!”
Kiyoomi hums to appease her, putting her sippy cup away and diverting her attention back to the colouring book. “Yes, baby. Will you please colour another one for me? I’ll be right back to look at it, okay?”
When Etsuko nods determinedly, Kiyoomi gives the customer an apologetic smile.
“Thank you for your patience, sir. Would you like to ring this one up?”
“Yes, please.”
The man is polite, in both manners and speech. It paints him in the image of an eloquent gentleman. Pair that with his charming good looks, impressive physique and heavenly scent, the man is an alpha that walked right out of Kiyoomi’s dreams.
If only, in another life. One where Kiyoomi is wiser and Etsuko is born from love and into a proper family. For one fleeting moment, Kiyoomi allows himself to dream a foolish dream. They would make a picture perfect family, Kiyoomi thinks. With this perfect stranger.
“You have the same noses.”
Kiyoomi is pulled out of his thoughts by the unexpected statement. He blinks up at him in surprise, watching as realisation dawns in the man’s olive eyes.
“My sincerest apologies.” The man says with a deep frown. “I did not realise I voiced my observation aloud.”
A chuckle bubbles up his throat, taking them both by surprise. Embarrassed, Kiyoomi tucks a lock of curl behind his ear and clears his throat. “It’s alright. We hear that a lot – my daughter and I.”
“Your husband must be the luckiest man in the world.” The sincerity in the alpha’s voice, and in his eyes, pierces through Kiyoomi’s chest like a spear.
Kiyoomi averts his gaze. “It’s just us.”
There’s a pause that sits heavy between them. Kiyoomi often wonders if giving birth has altered his scent somehow, or if everyone just assumes he’s mated and bonded because they wouldn’t have wished otherwise for him.
Kiyoomi half expects an awkward apology, as it was what usually follows up when the conversation is steered into this particular direction. But the man surprises him when he offers Kiyoomi a small smile.
“Please allow me to rephrase that,” he says with his broad shoulders rolled back and eyes sharp, as he holds Kiyoomi’s gaze. “Your daughter is lucky to have you. She must be the happiest girl in the world, growing up with your love.”
Something burns at the back of his throat. Kiyoomi blinks back the tears building up at the words and glances over at where Etsuko is doing her best to colour within the lines. The sight of his daughter only incites the feeling to fester in his chest.
“Thank you.” It comes out in a whisper, laden with unshed tears.
As Kiyoomi tries to compose himself while he completes the transaction, he peeks up at the man to steal a glance. Only to find that the man is staring at him. He flushes, embarrassed at being caught, but the man doesn’t say anything about it.
“What’s the occasion?” Kiyoomi finds himself asking when normally he never would.
He’s not one to make easy acquaintances nor initiate small talks. He’s uncertain what spurred this sudden abnormality. Perhaps, he convinces himself, he just wishes to hide behind a smokescreen.
Their fingers brush as the bouquet is being passed between them. The callousness of the man’s fingers send electrical sparks along the back of Kiyoomi’s hand.
“A date.” The man says through a breathless exhale, switching the bouquet to his right hand as though he’s been scorched.
His intense gaze flickers from where their skin made contact to look at Kiyoomi with a palpable emotion behind his eyes.
“Oh,” Kiyoomi breathes.
A weight settles in his chest, heavy and familiar. It stings, like salt on a wound. Humiliation for his own wishful thinking lays ruin to the castle in his mind. Reality crumbles down on him, laughing and sneering.
“Thank you for your purchase. Please come again.” His voice sounds empty, even to his own ears.
The unexpected and abrupt end to their interaction seemed to startle the man. Kiyoomi watches as the man’s left hand flexes briefly before it curls tightly into a fist and hides itself behind his back.
The man looks up from the flowers, mouth forming the very beginning of words to say to him. But Kiyoomi doesn’t get to find out what would have been said, because the landline of the store rings from the backroom and Etsuko tries to get his attention.
“Mama! Mama, ring-ring!”
“Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.” Kiyoomi smiles at her, enamoured. His sweet, sweet daughter. Always eager to offer him her selfless assistance. “I’ll call them back later.”
When Kiyoomi turns around again, he’s met with another weight plunging in his chest.
Kiyoomi stares longingly at the broad back of the man as the glass door closes behind him. The little bell jingles, like the lonely echo of his heart. All that’s left is the scent of sandalwood intertwined with honey. Bitter and burnt.
“Mama?”
Kiyoomi notes the distress in her voice. He picks his daughter up and holds her close. Burying his nose into her curly hair and inhaling deeply to wash away the scent of burnt sandalwood with her zesty lemons.
He doesn’t need an alpha, Kiyoomi reminds himself. He has his daughter and that is all he ever needs.