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The shop has been barely open for fifteen minutes when Hob hears the bell ding. He smiles. He’s pretty sure he knows who has just walked in the door.
Hob looks up from his invoicing stack and he's greeted by the sight of Morpheus Ender, the current COO of Endless Industries.
“Morning, Morph,” Hob greets, because after seven years, two divorces, and a swath of failed relationships, Hob has earned the right to that nickname. It took a lot of needling and one-sided conversations, but Morpheus had finally, over time, opened up to the idea of a friendship with his neighborhood florist.
Morpheus’s lips quirk just the slightest bit, and to anyone else it looks like a grimace, but Hob recognizes it for the blinding smile it is.
“Good morning, Hob,” Morpheus replies. "I hope I am not troubling you."
"You know my favorite customer is never any trouble for me," Hob says easily. It's true too. Morpheus is by far his favorite customer, and not just because the man has deep pockets.
No, Morpheus is special to Hob because the man is the definition of tenacity and endurance, even in the face of hopeless odds. Hob's had the privilege of not only witnessing that fierce personality, but getting to experience parts of the man's life firsthand. He even got an invite to Morpheus’s second wedding. They're more to each other than just a patron and businessman at this point.
That's not to say Morpheus isn't good business though. Over the years, Morpheus has taken to using Hob's shop for more than just apology flowers for scorned lovers. Hob's pretty sure he could easily retire with the income he makes on Morpheus's purchases alone.
Hob sets aside the invoices on the counter and motions to the stool on the other side, indicating for Morpheus to sit. He does.
"What are we looking for today, my friend?" Hob asks, already pulling out his catalogs of premade flower arrangements. "Another big client meeting? Flowers for Lucienne? I know her birthday is coming up." Hob's met Lucienne a handful of times. She's Morpheus's assistant and one of the most impressive women he'd ever met.
Morpheus shakes his head. "I will be taking Lucienne to dinner for her birthday. She has let me know that while she appreciates the flowers, they aggravate her seasonal allergies."
"Ah, that's a shame but I totally understand that," Hob says. "Being in here is terrible for my own allergies, I'm up to three Zirtek a day now."
"I still do not understand how one can run a flower shop with allergies as bad as yours," Morpheus teases. Hob tries not to melt under the velvety voice.
"Are you kidding? I love flowers! Wouldn't give up this gig for the world. Plus I get to see your grumpy face," Hob teases right back.
"Ah." A dusting of pink makes its way across Morpheus's face. Hob has to fight himself from reaching out to touch it. "I do appreciate all you've done for me over the years, Hob. Especially when I was…not at my best."
Hob nods. He saw the rise and fall of Morpheus's marriage to Calliope. Then Alianora a few years later. Most recently, Morpheus had pursued a disastrous relationship with Nada Reine, an executive at a rival company. The falling out had been so bad, so public, that it made the tabloids and Morpheus had hidden out in the back room of Hob's shop before and after work for almost four months after.
"Water under the bridge, my friend,” Hob says. “I was glad for your business regardless,” he jokes. “But I am even more grateful for your friendship.”
“And I yours,” Morpheus replies. “Which is why I have come to you today. I…I believe I am ready.”
Hob nods. He’d expected this, and over the years it’s gotten easier and easier to ignore the little sting in his heart that comes with realizing Morpheus is in love again.
“And who’s the lucky lady?” Hob asks.
Morpheus shakes his head. “I…cannot say. For now. I know this makes things difficult for you. But I trust your judgments. They have more than helped me in the past.”
Hob laughs. "You got that right! Ok well, tell me about her then, if you can’t tell me who she is. But you know I wouldn’t go blabbing about your relationships to the press by now, don’t you?"
Morpheus nods. "I do. I just…it needs to be a secret. For now."
"Okay. I understand." Hob says. It may be better he not know who she is anyways. This way Hob can't look her up online in his free time and obsess about how suited she may or may not be for his friend. "So what’s she like?"
Morpheus purses his lips. "This person…has been very near and dear to my heart for some time now. I would say...they are a bright spot in my other chaotic life, and I have perhaps taken them for granted. I wish to remedy that, and perhaps, explore if there could be something more."
Hob nods, noting that Morpheus is steering very clear of gendered pronouns. Interesting. He asks a few more questions about the person’s temperament, (bright, bold, and friendly) any hobbies Morpheus might know about (they love the outdoors and also cooking), their favorite color (blue, also Hob’s favorite color, and not just because they’re the color of Morpheus’s eyes), as well as the nature of their relationship (Morpheus considers them quite friendly).
“Okay, I think I’ve got enough to get started here,” Hob says, finishing off his notes. “Come back in a few days, yeah?”
Morpheus nods. "Thank you, Hob."
When Morpheus leaves the shop, Hob sighs. He knew this day was coming eventually. Whoever had Morpheus's attention now sure was a lucky guy.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Based on the way Morpheus was guarded about the person’s pronouns, Hob can really only assume this person was male. Or at the very least, someone not female identifying. Morpheus had never come across to Hob as anything other than straight, so this was quite the development.
Hob feels both hopeful and devastated about the situation. He knows Morpheus is so far out of his league he's practically in the stratosphere. But he at least used to be able to tell himself that Morpheus was straight as an arrow so there was absolutely no hope anyways.
Now though? If Hob's intuition is right and Morpheus really has fallen for a man, Hob now has to contend with the fact that he has the potential to be the other man's type, but still knowing he's not good enough to be a real consideration as a romantic partner.
Well, no use crying over things that he can't control. Morpheus is still a dear friend to him, and Hob's going to do his damnedest to make sure the man finally gets a happy ending. He deserves that much.
A few days later, Hob finds a bouquet of bright orange roses on his doorstep. They're clearly freshly cut which means some poor schmuck was up at the crack of dawn to get them to Hob's flat before he left for the shop.
Hob takes a moment to admire them before he sighs. It's not his first time getting roses outside his door, and he appreciates the gestures for sure. He’s even gone on a few dates because of them over the years, but nothing’s really ever worked out. He’d only recently admitted to himself that his raging crush on Morpheus is probably the root of the issue.
It’s ironic though, that he would receive orange roses today, because he just finished putting together the bouquet he promised for Morpheus last night, and it just so happens that the bouquet also contains orange roses. It almost feels like a cruel joke, really. Still, these flowers are absolutely stunning, and he wants to at least call the flower shop who got roped into delivering these gorgeous blooms at such an ungodly hour to thank them for their trouble.
Except...there’s no card? There’s literally zero indication of who the roses are from, but they’re definitely high quality flowers, not anything from someone’s backyard garden.
Well that was strange. Usually Hob’s suitors left some sort of indication as to who they were. It was...kind of the whole point of courting someone with flowers. Hob looks around quickly, trying to determine if maybe his potential suitor is hiding, ready to surprise him.
But the street is empty and if Hob lingers any longer, he’s going to be late for work. He quickly runs inside and sets the flowers in an empty vase on his kitchen table. He takes the time to inhale the fresh scent of them (they were definitely cut in the last 12 hours at most) before he dashes out of his home to catch the next train.
Morpheus strolls into the shop around lunch time, and Hob’s just wrapping up with another customer when he sees him.
Morpheus has a hopeful look on his face, and it makes Hob’s heart sing, even though he knows it isn’t for him. Hob flashes him his most brilliant smile before he motions to the counter.
“I’ve got something for you,” Hob says conspiratorially once Morpheus is seated. “Your new lover’s about to be knocked off their feet.”
Hob’s particularly proud of this arrangement. He thinks it makes the perfect confessional bouquet based on Morpheus's short description of his beloved, and also based on Morpheus's personality.
It's a stunning bouquet of orange roses, interspersed with pink lisianthuses and blue delphiniums. The rest of the bouquet contains a smattering of snapdragon and asters. Together they make an absolutely eye-catching combination, filled with meaning that is bold, yet also soft and gentle. He knows he's made a good choice by the look of awe on Morpheus's face.
"This is beautiful," Morpheus says, delicately taking the bouquet from Hob. "You've outdone yourself, Hob."
Hob grins. "I'm glad. You didn't give me too much to go on, so I just sort of imagined the kind of bouquet I'd love to receive from someone like you and boom, this was born."
Hob doesn't miss the sharp intake of breath that comes from Morpheus's mouth. The executive has always been amazed by Hob's personal investment into his bouquets. It is part of how their friendship blossomed in the first place after all. For a man like Morpheus, where control meant everything, leaving an aspect of his love life in Hob’s hands had been an exercise in trust.
Calliope had absolutely adored flowers and poor Morpheus had once gifted her yellow roses of all things early on in their courtship. He'd come to Hob's shop on whim desperately looking for red instead and Hob had tutted at him for being so woefully unaware about the hidden language of flowers. Morpheus had then demanded Hob teach him and had come into the shop almost every day after.
Morpheus has since grown to appreciate Hob's eye for detail, along with his fluency in the love language of flowers. It's the reason the man almost exclusively uses Hob's shop after all. What started out as courting and apology bouquets for lovers soon extended into business as well, from giant arrangements set up for client meetings to employee appreciation bouquets. All have been large successes in the executive's life.
Hob expects today's bouquet to be no different.
Morpheus delicately runs his hands along the petals of a lisianthus before he inhales the scent of the flowers. When he's had his fill, his gaze returns to Hob, soft and appreciative.
"Will you tell me what this bouquet symbolizes, Hob?" Morpheus asks.
Hob smiles. This is his favorite part of the job by far.
" Orange roses stand for enthusiasm and energy. You told me this person was a bright spot in your life ," Hob opens, motioning to the eye-catching blooms. "Orange roses are a more modern invention, as you know, but they’re generally meant to fill that space between friendship and romance. You told me this person was at least someone you’re friendly with, so it only made sense that we pick a flower that straddles the line.” Morpheus nods and presses a petal between his thumb and forefinger.
“They could also be taken to mean that the giver is ready to take their relationship with the recipient to the next level,” Hob finishes, once Morpheus’s attention is back on him.
Morpheus hums approvingly. “They’re perfect. And the lisianthuses?”
Hob’s smile grows even wider. Morpheus has been a good student over the years and he’s developed quite the eye for flowers. Each time he demonstrates his knowledge, it makes something warm bloom in Hob’s heart.
“Lisianthus represents a true bond between two people . But you knew that already,” Hob teases. Hob’s provided many bouquets to Morpheus over the years with this specific flower in them. Alianora’s wedding bouquet had held white ones. “But the pink one in particular is for romance and affection. It’s more subtle than a rose, but not any less impactful.”
“I remember these,” Morpheus reminiscences, petting the bloom’s petals once again. “Alianora always kept some in our home.”
“I thought you might," Hob replies. “I know things didn’t end the way you wanted with her, but I know she still means a lot to you, as your friend,” he continues. “So I figured it couldn’t hurt to put these in the bouquet.”
Morpheus nods. “They have become a favorite of mine as well. I am glad you introduced them to me, Hob.”
Hob smiles then motions to the bright blue stems.
“Delphinium symbolizes a desire to start a new romance . I picked blue because you said it was their favorite color, and well, I happen to love this shade of blue myself.” Hob just barely stops himself from admitting the flowers remind him of Morpheus’s eyes.
“I also added some asters and snapdragons, for a little flare to tie it all together,” Hob finishes. “Their meanings are pretty general, asters for faith and elegance, snapdragons for grace and strength.”
Morpheus's entire face practically lights up with delight. It's a nice little secret expression meant only for the flowers, but Morpheus over the years has let him see that face too. It's one of the most beautiful things Hob's ever seen.
“Thank you, again Hob," Morpheus says. "These are magnificent. I will treasure them."
"You mean your new lover will," Hob laughs. "You can't just steal flowers meant for someone else just because you like them so much."
"Ah, right," Morpheus agrees, a pink flush of embarrassment now on his face. "I'm sure that person will love them just as much as I do."
"High praise, coming from you," Hob grins. "Let me know what they think next time you come in, all right?"
Hob finds another mystery bouquet on his doorstep two weeks later.
It's just as stunning as the first one. Bold, hot pink peonies. Hob’s always preferred these to the red ones. They’re also freshly cut like the roses were. Who is ordering overnight flowers like this? It’s the dead of winter and peonies are not exactly the easiest flower to come by.
Hob decides he should probably start calling around to see which of the florists in the area is delivering these. He’d meant to when the first bouquet had come in, but had gotten busy and figured maybe they were a fluke, or a random act of kindness. This second bouquet tells him otherwise.
Interestingly enough, his mysterious admirer is picking flowers in colors that could represent friendship or romance, or both, if one wanted to read into that deeply. He wonders if this is someone he’s friends with. But most of his friends are married off, so unless someone was looking to start an affair or a polyamorous relationship, he can probably safely rule out most of his close friends, but perhaps not all of his business associates. Florists were notorious gossips after all, surely someone would be able to give him a reliable lead.
Hob places the peonies in the same vase that once held the roses, snaps a picture, and then starts texting some of his fellow florist friends to see if any of them sent the flowers.
Morpheus shows up to the shop a week after the second mystery bouquet makes its way to Hob's door.
“Hey Morph. How did the flower delivery go?” Hob asks.
Morpheus furrows his eyebrows in confusion before his expression clears. “The flowers were well received,” he confirms. “However, I believe they have not yet fully realized my intentions.”
Hob nods. He remembers Calliope had been a tough nut to crack. Especially after the yellow roses. She had thought Morpheus was making fun of her by showing up later with a more romantic bouquet for her. It had taken at least three different and unique arrangements before she finally realized Morpheus was seriously in love with her.
“Let’s try something a little more bold then,” Hob says. “Valentine’s Day is coming up in a few weeks so I’m going to be slammed soon, do you happen to have any free time now?
Morpheus nods. “Lucienne has arranged for me to have a little over an hour for lunch. We will not be disturbed.”
“Great, I’ll order takeout too. Chinese, okay?”
“That sounds good,” Morpheus confirms.
Roughly 45 minutes later, Hob thinks he’s got an idea for the second bouquet. Morpheus is still being rather scant on the details of his new potential lover, but Hob hasn’t been a successful florist for years without being able to read between the lines.
Naturally, with the holiday coming up, roses are a very popular selection for bouquets, but Hob knows Morpheus. He knows the man likes to stand out from the crowd and not go with traditional displays. So Hob ends up pulling out catalogs with multiple displays of non-rose bouquets to show to his friend. Morpheus eventually ends up selecting a bouquet of tulips set on a backdrop of blue irises .
“I know I said bold, but you went really bold this time huh, Morph?” Hob jokes.
“Is it not a good choice?” Morpheus asks, uncertain.
“I never said that! Tulips are a big favorite of mine actually,” Hob confesses. “And the iris just makes their color really pop. Tulips are also just great confession flowers, you know?”
“Are they?”
“Yep! The Victorians loved them just as much as roses, if not more so, for courting,” Hob confirms. “ Obviously pink and red are the romantic kind of confession , and then if you add the irises hidden meaning of faith and hope , you’ve got a bouquet that basically says ‘I love you, I hope you love me back’.”
“I see,” Morpheus says. “Then this will be most appropriate then. How long will this take to put together?”
“Give me 2-3 weeks?” Hob estimates. “Everyone is ordering flowers so I have a feeling they’ll arrive just in time for the holiday. They’ll be totally fresh too, I promise.”
“That should suffice,” Morpheus says.
“Great. I'll call you when it’s ready.”
Valentine’s Day, as expected, is hell. About a third of the flowers Hob ordered were delivered far later than he expected them to be, and he ended up putting together more than 50 orders in the days leading up to the holiday. Morpheus had come in just the day before, looking like he’d had a miserable day. He’d brightened significantly when Hob had shown him the finished bouquet, a memory which Hob is embarrassed to admit is keeping him going throughout the day. Well, that and a copious amount of coffee and chocolates.
Despite all the orders completed ahead of time, Hob still has to contend with plenty of last minute flower buyers, who are more than a little snippy with him when they try to insist on purchasing arrangements already reserved for people who actually planned ahead of time. Others are upset he ran out of roses around noon, and Hob barely keeps himself from snapping that they should just head down the street to Tesco’s.
When Hob finally gets home that night, he’s shocked to find a bouquet of red tulips at his door. It’s such an unexpected and sweet gesture, he actually tears up and buries his face in the blooms before he steps inside.
Still no card though. He’s called a few shops in the area but to no avail. He’ll really need to step up his game. He doesn’t want to keep his mysterious person on the hook for sending him flowers. Especially since Hob is realizing his feelings for Morpheus are not going away despite the man acting absolutely besotted with another person.
A part of Hob wants to give this person a chance. Especially with the timing of these flowers. He wonders if this person knows he’s a florist, or if they just thought it’d be something romantic to send for Valentine’s Day.
Morpheus is bound to come into the shop one day with his success story of finally managing to convince this new love interest of his to be his new beloved. Hob handled all the others pretty well, but he just knows he’s dreading the big identity reveal of this new person. He knows he shouldn’t take it so personally, but he just can’t help it.
Hob falls asleep with the tulips still clutched in his arms and wakes up with petals strewn across his bed.
Morpheus comes into the shop in mid-March with a desperate look on his face.
“I require another bouquet,” the raven haired man says, practically collapsing into the stool next to the counter. “I fear I have not been clear enough in my communication.”
Hob laughs. “Well tell me about how this person received the last bouquet. I know the first one was a lot more subtle, but red tulips on Valentine’s Day should be a pretty obvious communication of intent.”
“I…” Morpheus pauses, unsure. “I actually do not know how either bouquet was received.”
Hob stares blankly at his friend. “What do you mean you don’t know? Did you not hand them over yourself?” Hob asks, confused.
Morpheus shakes his head. “I know you may find this cowardly of me, but I left the bouquets where I knew that person would find them and did not stay to see their reaction.”
Oh goodness. Morpheus looks completely embarrassed by the admission and it’s the most adorable expression Hob has ever seen on him. His friend must have it bad .
“Did you…at least leave a note?”
Morpheus’s miserable expression tells him that’s a no.
“Morpheus,” Hob chides. “You can’t just leave flowers lying around and expect someone to infer your meaning! Good God, are you that afraid to talk to this person about how you feel?”
“They are…different from Calliope or Alianora or Nada so I have taken a much more indirect route. It does not seem to be working,” Morpheus admits.
Before Hob can scold his friend any further for being absolutely ridiculous, the phone in the back of the shop rings, interrupting his train of thought.
“Hold that thought,” Hob says quickly and dashes to the backroom to answer.
“Hello, Gadling’s Florist,” Hob answers.
“Hey there, just returning a call asking about a flower delivery?”
“Ah yes, about that.” Hob explains the situation with his mysterious flower benefactor, hoping that this time he’ll get some sort of lead.
“Sorry mate, I wish I could help you out, but those flowers didn’t come from us. Best of luck finding your secret admirer!”
Hob groans as he hangs up the receiver a little too forcefully. That had been the last shop in the area that he knew would deliver to his home. Hob had even tried calling the awful online delivery services to see if anyone had his address on file, and had come up empty.
“Is something the matter?” Morpheus asks when Hob returns to the front.
“No, it’s nothing.” Hob tries to wave the topic off, then changes his mind. It’s actually quite relevant to their current discussion “Well, it’s not nothing, but I think maybe I’ve got a stalker?”
“What? Do you need me to help?” Morpheus asks, alarmed.
“No, no, I’m not in any danger, it’s just, someone’s been leaving me flowers and I have no bloody idea who!” Hob exclaims. Maybe bringing up the mystery flowers isn’t the best idea, but Hob’s truly at the end of his rope here.
“Oh? So you have a secret admirer then?” Morpheus sounds curious enough, and Hob’s owed more than his share of personal life rants so he decides to talk and start pulling together flowers for Morpheus’s new bouquet at the same time. It’ll hopefully settle his nerves to talk through the situation out loud.
“Yeah, I started getting flowers back in January I think. It hasn’t been anything crazy frequent, and I do appreciate the flowers, they're gorgeous but I have no idea where they’re coming from!” He points a carnation in Morpheus’s direction. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten our earlier conversation, this is exactly why you need to leave cards on flowers!”
Morpheus shrugs, a little smirk crossing his face. “Perhaps they’re simply hoping you’ll be able to determine the sender on your own.”
“Yeah, that may sound romantic to you , in your situation, but it’s been driving me mad, Morph! I swear if you don’t hand deliver this next arrangement I’m making, I’m going to tell this person you’re in love with them myself.”
“Will you now? You don’t even know who they are,” Morpheus says mildly.
“I have my ways. The flowers will tell me,” Hob insists, gesturing to the rapidly growing pile on his counter.
“They haven’t told you who your mysterious admirer is yet,” Morpheus notes.
“Well it’s not for a lack of trying, I can tell you that much. I’ve called almost every shop local to my home, and not one of them has delivered to my address in the last three months!”
“Perhaps there is some sort of clue you’ve missed?”
“Honestly, I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what else to do.” Hob sighs, and starts worrying a stem between his fingers. “I’m starting to feel bad about the whole thing too. I feel like I’m leading them on.”
“Leading them on?” Morpheus furrows his brow. “You intend to turn this person down even not knowing who they are?”
“Well, yes! I mean, no. It’s just…” Hob sighs and decides he should probably be at least a little bit honest. “I’m already really hung up on someone else right now.”
“You’re…in love with someone?” Morpheus asks, shocked.
“Yeah…it’s really pathetic," Hob tries to laugh it off but it’s hard when the object of his affections is right there in front of him, asking him to make a bouquet for someone else. "Totally one-sided on my part too so I really should give this mystery admirer a chance but I just feel like it wouldn’t be fair.”
Morpheus suddenly stands. “I have to go now,” he announces, voice tight.
“Wait, what? I thought we were working on putting together this bouquet for your confession!” Hob exclaims, confused. Was it something he said? Did Morpheus catch onto Hob’s feelings somehow? Oh god.
“It no longer matters. Throw it out, there’s no point anymore,” Morpheus snaps.
“Hold on, what?! Why would I throw it out? Did you suddenly just change your mind, what’s going on?” Hob feels like he’s missing half of the conversation. He’s just about ready to climb over the counter to stop Morpheus from leaving.
“It seems my efforts were for naught,” Morpheus practically growls. “Because you already love someone else.”
Hold on.
What?
“Morph, what the hell are you talking about?” Hob practically yells. “Are you saying this bouquet was supposed to be for me? ” There’s absolutely no way he heard the other man correctly.
“They were all for you!” Morpheus shouts back at him, as if this was something obvious. “Everything I’ve ordered from you and everything I've left at your door has been for you!”
Hob —needs a moment.
Perhaps many moments. His brain short circuits. Reboots. Rewinds the past few months back and inserts this new context into all of their interactions.
This all started when Morpheus told Hob he had fallen in love again. That he would need flowers to woo his intended beloved. Who was, apparently, Hob himself.
“You’ve been...secretly leaving flowers at my door, while also ordering flowers from my shop…because the person you’re in love with…is me?”
Morpheus crosses his arms and huffs. “It was not supposed to be this difficult for you to figure out.”
Hob loses it.
“Hold on, you can’t expect me to have just figured out that it was you leaving me all those bouquets at my door!” Hob exclaims. “Where were you getting all these flowers anyways? I literally just told you none of the flower shops in the area took those orders!”
“That’s because they came from my family’s private gardens.” Morpheus smirks, as if he’s just beaten Hob in a battle of wits and not turned his entire world completely sideways.
“They’re from where now ?” Hob nearly chokes. He can’t have heard that right. The Ender family estate is hundreds of acres. Sure, there were plenty of gardens there, and more than a couple of greenhouses for getting the out of season blooms, but the thought of Morpheus going through his own family’s gardens just to put together a bouquet for Hob is just…
Well, to be honest, it’s the sort of ridiculously insane romantic gesture only Morpheus would come up with. The prat.
“I had Jessamy help me select the ideal flower the night before,” Morpheus continues, unaware of Hob’s internal turmoil. “I am not nearly as talented as you are in arranging, so I found it best to limit myself to a single bloom. And then I would have Matthew stop at your home so I could leave them at your doorstep before I would go to work. Did you truly not try to monitor your front door to see who was dropping them off?”
Well, Hob had certainly intended to try to get up early to see who his mysterious admirer was but he never really managed it. It had never really felt all that important. Making the romantic bouquets for Morpheus to bring to his crush had taken priority over everything. Which reminds him…
“Wait, so what have you been doing with all the other bouquets I've made for you?” Hob asks.
"I…" Morpheus hesitates. "I have taken them home and imagined they were from you to me."
Hob swears he feels his heart stop in his chest.
Morpheus Ender, his best customer, his best friend, if Hob is being totally honest, is in love with him. And he just went about confessing it in the most convoluted, confusing, and utterly exasperating manner.
Hob absolutely loves the fuck out of this man.
“You know,” Hob grins, stepping out from behind the counter and right into Morpheus’s personal space. Morpheus’s eyes widen, and he takes a small step back, but Hob grabs his wrist to stop him.
“If you had actually just told me how you felt in the first place," Hob continues, bringing Morpheus's hand to his mouth and placing a kiss to each knuckle. "We could’ve avoided wasting a whole lot of flowers and skipped right to the part where I kissed you senseless months ago.”
“...Oh.” Morpheus has an awed expression on his face. “So your one-sided love…”
“Was you, you idiot.” Hob pulls Morpheus towards him and touches their foreheads together. “It’s always been you.”
Morpheus kisses him then. Presses Hob against the counter and crushes more than a few of the flowers, scattering petals everywhere.
Hob doesn’t care.