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Death is an inevitable thing.
That’s a lesson every child learns on the path to maturity—a lesson Tecchou knows very well.
Evidently enough, working at a funeral parlor reminds him of that fact every day. Standing by the door as Teruko consults grieving families in the arrangement room, moving them through the offerings of caskets and coffins in the display room, and of course holding his head down in respect as Teruko delivers the eulogy of the deceased in front of the assembly of their loved ones in the reception room.
At work, he’s praised for his default stoic face, polite enough to make a stranger feel welcomed, and stern enough to make a stranger know when they need a question answered, he can answer it swiftly.
On a less positive note, the staff (which is to say the funeral director, for she does most of the talking for about 90% of the people employed) also praise him for the emotional disconnect he has towards his clients and the practice itself, something he’s …less proud of.
Seeing people sobbing always has him at a loss and overcome by awkwardness—an unfortunate thing since it’s such a common sight to see in an establishment like a funeral parlor. The most he can offer is a tissue box and the peppermints they have on the tin on the table, while Teruko patiently waits the whole debacle out.
And that’s the best case scenario where he can step in and lend a hand—when the tears really come out in a waterfall during the service itself, all he can do is stand by the casket, having been the one to roll it in, and keep his head down in respect for the bereaved.
Despite that all, it’s not even crossed his mind that some people would consider what he does emotionally taxing. The deaths that are serviced under this roof aren’t related to him, so should he give them a second thought?
Well, it’s not as if there’s anyone in his life he’d be attending a funeral for his own purposes to begin with. He was raised in a foster home, cruised by in college in a blur, and landed in this job in a city with little to no connections.
It’s fine. He’s always been solitary.
Besides, the only funeral he’d be invited to would the funeral of the director of this very own funeral parlor-
“Oi, Tecchou! Make sure to sweep this place up real good before you lock it for the morning, ‘kay? You’re the only one here, so if you get killed, try to not get it on the—“
“Expensive imported caskets you got last week. I’ve got it, Teruko-san.”
With a cheeky grin, Teruko elbows him in the side, making him stare back at her blankly. She sticks her tongue out and turns on her heel, throwing her arms behind her neck.
“Tch! It’s impossible to faze you with anything, Tecchou! There, I admit it! It makes you dutiful at closing, but it’s also such a downside!” she complains.
He tilts his head at that.
“A downside?” he tests, tone curious.
“Yeah, duh! For example, what would you do if you heard something like a rattling sound on the window?”
He pauses.
“Well, I would continue with closing up. In that scenario, couldn’t that be chalked up to changing wind speeds?”
She fires back with another question just as fast.
“Now, how about an incessant knocking on the door?”
“We have security cameras to check for any dangers in that sort of situation. Maybe it could be someone who wanted one on one time before or after the funeral. Just a final goodbye if they weren’t to make it on time.”
“Alright … now, what would you do if the caskets started moving on their own?”
“They wouldn’t do that—“
“Answer the question.”
Tecchou thinks. He ponders. He even imagines it out.
“ … I would roll them back in place. Mention it to you in the morning when I come in.”
Teruko groans into her hands.
“See, this is what I’m talking about! Nothing funny or entertaining about your reactions at all! It’s so boring it makes me want to die!!”
“Well, you can’t die here. You can’t direct your own funeral. Haha.”
Tecchou skillfully prevents a potential hazard to his eyes as he catches the keys Teruko throws at his face, not even turning towards him as she waves goodbye.
“With that said, I’m going. Close up well!”
“I always do.”
With the opening and closing of the front door confirming Tecchou of her departure, he gets right to closing up.
He starts from the arrangement room, leaving the reception for last—his usual routine. Dusting, vacuuming, sanitizing … the repetitive activities have a calming effect on him.
Finally, he comes to the doorway of the reception room, making him roll his neck in the socket and crack his knuckles in anticipation.
He approaches a chair and begins the process. Dust off the cushions, vacuum them of any dirt, sanitize the metal parts—and repeat. He’s too lost in thought to pick up on the howling wind right outside, along with the thunderous raindrops that pelt against the windows harshly.
However, what he does pick up on is knocking on the door.
It’s insistent.
He looks at the time.
Midnight.
“What could have kept someone up this late?” He thinks to himself, unaware of the hypocrisy in that very thought. He thinks back to Teruko’s line of questioning from earlier.
Logically, he should check the security cameras before opening the door, but …
Well, if he’s shot or stabbed or brutally killed in some other fashion at the door, at least the director will enjoy the publicity the parlor will get from such a tragedy. That’s the line of reasoning he believes, anyway.
He walks over to the entrance and unlocks the door, pulling it open,
And facing a person clad in a white raincoat. In one hand they hold a white umbrella, the other holding the harness of a very sopping wet dog.
Tecchou opens his mouth to speak, but he’s rendered speechless as they pull their hood back and greet him with a disarming smile.
“Hello.”
He’s never felt so clammy in his suit before. He tugs on his tie and clears his throat.
“Good evening.”
The figure laughs, jostling the dog and the umbrella.
“Far past evening to say that, don’t you think?”
Tecchou leans to the side and looks past him, into the deep, deep night.
“… you’re right. It’s a force of habit. We don’t entertain customers, this …late at night. Usually.”
They rock back and forth on their heels, humming.
“That’s to be expected, obviously. Lucky for you, I’m not a customer.”
That makes Tecchou scratch the back of his neck in confusion.
“You aren’t?”
They shake their head, revealing the earring made of red cord with a bell attached to it hanging on their right ear, hidden behind their bangs.
“No. I just wanted to see the flowers, that’s all. That is, if you haven’t put them away. Have you?”
Well, that’s to the point.
Tecchou turns his head in the direction of the reception room—the flowers … were still there. They usually almost were guaranteed to be left behind in the aftermath of a funeral. Some family members would take them home as a memorial, but most of the time they realized that having a reminder would cause too much pain, and leave them with the funeral parlor.
“ … Yes.”
“Wonderful. May I come in?”
He gives the stranger an up and down, a bit intimidated by his …ethereal glow.
Maybe it’s the reflection of the moon’s light doing that to him.
In the end, though, he doesn’t find him suspicious, so Tecchou steps back and lets him past the threshold. He sets his umbrella by the door, taking his raincoat off to hand it to Tecchou who puts it on the coat rack.
Now clad in just a white sweater with black leggings, he holds his hand out for Tecchou to take.
The ethereal glow hasn’t gone away one bit—if anything, it seems to be intensified under the lights of the ceiling and the lamps around the room.
He looks just as much of an angel as he does some … snow white reaper.
Tecchou swallows and takes his hand.
“This way.”
He places his palm in Tecchou’s obediently, tugging the harnessed dog along as he leads the duo to the reception room. He halts in the doorway, moving his gaze down to focus on the canine.
“ … Could I ask you to leave your dog outside the reception room?”
“Why?”
Tecchou doesn’t miss a beat with his response.
“The director will be very mad if the carpet gets soaked.”
The stranger laughs into his hand and nods, bending down to his dog and patting it on its head.
“Stay,” he whispers in a soft tone, almost controlling Tecchou as much as it controls the dog.
Almost.
He stands back up to his full height soon enough, nudging Tecchou forward eagerly. Tecchou nods and pulls him through the lines of chairs to the casket, still adorned with ornate floral arrangements on its flat surface.
He regards the stranger in the corner of his eye with the white roses that decorate the object, silently noting that they match.
The stranger breaks contact with Tecchou’s hand in favor of running his gloved finger tips on the petals of the roses, humming to himself.
“Yes, these are indeed white roses, just as it said on the ledger. It's a shame that they’re put to waste like this … ”
Tecchou tilts his head, opening his mouth to question what the stranger means by ‘ledger’, only to be cut off when he plucks a rose off the arrangement to hold out to Tecchou.
“Say, do you know what white roses mean?”
He looks down at the offered rose, more puzzled than anything.
“No. I just set them on the coffin.”
The man lets out an exasperated sigh and leans against the casket, making Tecchou almost marvel at his nonchalant disrespect of the dead. He brings the rose to his lips and runs his fingers over the wooden casket, drumming them lightly.
“White roses represent innocence, purity, and the like. White is the absence of any color, after all.”
Tecchou awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other as the man begins to pick petals from the rose, letting each one fall not on the floor, but on top of the casket. When he’s left with a bare stem and Tecchou hasn’t said a single word, he lifts his head and tilts it in his direction.
“You’re deathly silent. Why’s that, hm? Scared?”
The funeral assistant shakes his head.
“You’re just strange, that’s all.”
The remark takes a while to register in the man’s mind, but it’s not long before his pale face flushes entirely red in anger, throwing the thorny stem at Tecchou’s face. The brunette’s reflexes are fast enough to catch it before it hits his eyes, but he still instinctively winces as the thorns prick his hand.
“How could you possibly think that’s an appropriate thing to say to someone—!!”
“Well, I find it perfectly appropriate to say to someone who walked in without introducing themselves, beelined for the reception room, then proceeded to caress the flowers while going on about their meaning unprompted. But, that’s just my view.”
The man huffs and crosses his arms, frowning.
“I … Suppose you have me there.”
He tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear, tilting his head up to meet Tecchou’s.
“But, I have one condition. I want you to introduce yourself first.”
Tecchou nods, tucking his hands behind his back and bowing formally.
“I’m Suehiro Tecchou, a funeral service worker at Ookura Funeral Parlor. Which is where you are now.”
The man nods in acknowledgement.
“Good. With that out of the way, I’m Jouno Saigiku, a florist.”
Ah. That explains it.
Before Tecchou can question him further, the old grandfather clock in the lobby rings loudly and resounds throughout the empty funeral home to signal midnight, breaking the spell between them.
Wait. What spell?
“I’ll take that as a sign to leave,” Jouno says, turning on his heel. Tecchou scrambles (?!) to take his hand, leading him out of the reception room and stepping away to let him attach his dog onto its leash again.
The taller man walks them to the front door, taking Jouno’s white raincoat off the coat rack and handing it to him.
The white-haired man gets ready to leave in comfortable silence, ready to leave Tecchou alone to close by himself like he was meant to, but for reasons he doesn’t even know—Tecchou surges forward and grabs his wrist.
Jouno turns to look at him in confusion.
“Will you . . . be back?” the brunette asks hesitatingly, a massive surprise for someone who’s never hesitated for the past two decades of his life.
He doesn't know why, but he wants Jouno to say yes like his life depends on it.
Jouno, for his part, entertains him with a thoughtful scratch of his cheek, before nodding and regarding Tecchou with a sly smile.
“Will you have flowers?”
“Yes.”
The funeral assistant’s reply is immediate, eyes burning into Jouno’s closed ones. The florist steps forward, away from the door and towards Tecchou, smiling even wider when Tecchou forces his eyes shut from such close proximity with the former. Jouno shoves something into Tecchou’s palm before zipping back to the door at lightning speed, pushing it open to reveal the rain has stopped, leaving just the full moon in the sky in all its beauty.
“Then, there’s a chance. Better than nothing, yes?”
By the time Tecchou responds with an affirmative “yes” and opens his eyes, he finds that Jouno has already left.
He dully realizes the prickly sensation in his clenched palm, bringing it up in front of him and opening it—discovering a white rose in his grasp.
Tecchou touches his face, realizing that throughout that whole interaction with Jouno, at some point he had smiled; and kept smiling even after the man had departed at the door.
He tucks the rose in his pocket tenderly, then goes back to cleaning and closing up the funeral parlor.
If there’s a skip in his step, only the caskets on display and the old lamps of the building are there to bear witness to it.
❀❀❀❀
Jouno doesn’t visit the next night; but he does visit the night after, with the same raincoat and umbrella in hand. His dog is absent this time, which Tecchou doesn’t neglect to comment on.
“She’s wearing the cone of shame from the veterinarian’s office, I’m afraid,” Jouno says blasély, making Tecchou snort into his palm. The shorter raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t push him, instead offering his hand wordlessly to Tecchou, just like before.
Tecchou leads him to the reception room, as is expected of him, and lets Jouno examine the floral arrangement.
Jouno takes a deep breath in and without even touching the petals, completely and confidently says,
“Pink carnations and babies’ breath.”
Tecchou vaguely remembers those flowers indeed being labeled as what Jouno identifies them as before he set them up for the service, nodding—though he quickly shakes his head upon realizing Jouno won’t see that.
A mistake on his part.
Jouno barely registers him as he plucks one of each from the display, turning to Tecchou with a teasing smile on his face.
“Now, do you know what these mean, Tecchou-san?”
Tecchou resists the urge to shiver—his name sounds melodic simply rolling off of Jouno’s tongue.
“I’m afraid not.”
In an instance, the florist’s graceful and mature exterior is ruined by a tongue stuck out in Tecchou’s direction, crossing his arms.
“Truly, you have no artistry in your soul whatsoever! But, like before, I shall explain it to you.”
When Jouno leans against the coffin to explain, Tecchou finds himself sidling up to the other without a second thought—not directly touching, as the brunette keeps a respectable distance, but enough to observe Jouno’s white eyelashes up close.
Jouno—as weird as he is—is very, very pretty.
Is that a normal thing to observe and think about someone on your second meeting?
“Pink carnations mean love and remembrance; just because they’re pink doesn’t necessarily mean it has to be in a romantic sense. Well, not that I could tell any difference between a pink carnation and any other color if I was given one. If anything, I’d criticize whoever would give me such a stereotypical thing, to make certain they’d abandon the concept of gifting floral items to me in the first place.”
Tecchou’s attention is laser focused on the pink carnation Jouno spins between his fingers.
“Wow.”
He stops spinning it upon Tecchou’s one-word interjection, scowling.
“Childish.”
Despite the brisk insult, he holds it out to Tecchou, who takes it and resists the urge to start spinning it between his own fingers.
“How about the meaning of baby's breath?” Tecchou offers instead, heart thrumming pleasantly at Jouno evidently lighting up at the topic. The white-haired man rocks back and forth on his heels, tapping his hands on his thighs idly.
“Baby’s breath, much in the same vein as white roses, means innocence and purity. You could group all white flowers in meanings like that, to be completely fair with you—I suppose whoever was in charge of deciding the meanings for flowers found it easier that way.”
Tecchou nods, tilting his head at Jouno.
“Have you always been interested in flowers?”
Jouno shakes his head at that, cracking a wry smile.
“No, not until recently—what, just because I look delicate and fragile I’m the type of man who’s always aspired to be a horticulturist?”
“You are very pretty, Jouno.”
The white-haired man leans forward and flicks Tecchou’s forehead for that, cheeks turning slightly pink.
“Not what you were supposed to focus on. I majored in Psychology, actually.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
Tecchou gets another flick on the forehead for that.
“How about you?”
The brunette rubs the back of his neck.
“Wasn’t for me. I joined a practical school, discovered this place, and the funeral director hired me right after the interview because she said some ‘eye candy’ would lighten the mood of this place.”
“Word for word?”
“Mhm.”
Jouno can’t help the delighted cackling he lets out at that, turning his head away from Tecchou to silence as much of it as he can.
It’s unbelievably cute.
By the time the grandfather clock chimes and ends their time together, they’re both chatting the night away, and Tecchou almost jumps when Jouno starts for the door without his guidance, already having memorized his path.
“Goodnight, Tecchou-san,” the florist says, waving with his cane and umbrella in hand. Tecchou waves back.
He touches his face—expectedly, he’s smiling again.
He checks the time on his phone and wonders if he should ask Jouno for contact information next time.
❀❀❀❀
By Jouno’s third visit, Tecchou opens the door before he can even knock.
It’s the same for his fourth visit, fifth visit, and sixth visit—so on and so forth.
They go to the reception room together and Jouno tells him all the flower meanings, even going so far as to explain how Jouno can identify them so accurately and so fast—it all comes down to scent.
Snapdragons for strength, chrysanthemums for mourning, daisies for hope … the list goes on and on. Although Jouno may say it’s not as if he’s devoted his life to memorizing these things, it’s clear they’re important to him—and what’s important to him is important to Tecchou.
It’s just an added benefit Jouno’s so nice to listen to and nice to watch as he explains, that’s all.
Not only does Tecchou get to learn about the flowers, he learns whatever Jouno is comfortable enough to tell him on that particular night.
The name of Jouno’s canine companion is Tama, and she’s worked as his service dog for the past five years. He never visits in the morning because those are his job’s hours and he admits to being a caffeine addicted night owl. Jouno also despises dirty spaces and subtly praises Tecchou for his dedicated cleaning of the funeral parlor every night.
Tecchou knows he’s falling into something, but he can’t place what. Whatever it is, he’s not stopping it; Jouno makes him too happy to be around to live without.
He beams as Jouno insults him in the way he always does, leaning on his broom while Jouno pets Tama on the floor of the lobby’s couch.
Tecchou likes this feeling.
❀❀❀❀
One night, Jouno proposes a peculiar exchange.
“You know, Tecchou-san, for all your incessant prying about my job, I barely know what you learn at your job. Isn’t that unfair?”
Tecchou stops where he’s sweeping and puts down his broom, coming to sit next to Jouno on one of the chairs.
“I just don’t see what I could tell you, Jouno.”
Jouno reaches forward to poke the other’s cheek and sighs, shaking his head.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
Jouno takes Tecchou’s chin and moves it to face towards the coffin at the center of the room, tilting his own head towards it.
“Tell me about the person in that coffin.”
“Oh.”
Tecchou looks down at the floor upon Jouno letting go of his chin, thinking back on the director’s eulogy.
“I got it.”
“That so? Tell me then.”
At Jouno’s prompting, he says all the details he could remember from the eulogy off the top of his head, only to stop halfway through when he notices the bored look on Jouno’s face.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
The white-haired man sighs.
“Not at all. That was far too disconnected for me to properly enjoy, Tecchou-san. I want you to talk as if you personally know the person in that coffin, not just about them.”
“That’s not my job.”
“Isn’t it, though? You consult with grieving families and get the last memories of their loved ones through them in order to give them your services—though, you did mention that the director hired you to serve as ‘eye candy.’ Could it be that you're not big on the emotional side of things?”
Tecchou shifts in his seat.
“Something like that.”
Jouno hums and places his hand on top of Tecchou’s, resting them on his the brunette’s knee.
“Then consider this an exercise in that.”
Tecchou blinks at Jouno.
“Are you trying to . . . help me?”
Jouno smiles back at him.
“Something like that. Really, I’ll take greater pleasure if you struggle, but if you succeed that’s fine too.”
Tecchou stomps on the florist’s foot for that, drifting off in his own thoughts as Jouno curses him out.
❀❀❀❀
Teruko notices his change in demeanor very quickly; as the one who employed him and is in charge of almost everything in the building, it’s inevitable that she does.
He sits alongside her on the couch as he discusses important parts of the deceased person’s life to include in the eulogy, walking them through the reception room of his own volition, even offering rubs on the back as well as tissue boxes—why, she’d be blind to not notice such a big change.
He even still stays to close the parlor for the night, to boot!
The days go by so agonizingly slow for Tecchou, a heart wrenching story on top of another, but it gives him enough to finally satisfy Jouno’s wants.
The story of a doctor who spent all his time saving others' lives until he couldn’t save himself from his own illness in the end. The story of a kind youth leader who was suffering on her own without anyone knowing. The story of a bride who would never see her wedding day.
These stories intertwine with the flowers set upon the caskets of the deceased.
When Tecchou places a hand upon one such casket, Jouno rests a palm over Tecchou's knuckles. Their heads bow in respect to the person laying inside.
Somehow … it makes a domestic sort of feeling resound in Tecchou’s chest.
Death is an inevitable thing, but as Jouno points out, so is rebirth, so one cannot be let down for so long.
Tecchou leans against Jouno in the quiet of the funeral parlor, helping the white-haired man gather his things when the grandfather clock signals their parting, leaving the funeral assistant looking forward to the next night already.
❀❀❀❀
One night is harder than all the rest.
Jouno immediately notices something is off when Tecchou doesn’t take his hand and leads him to the reception room, leaving him to use his cane and navigate his way there himself.
“Tecchou-san, what’s the sudden lack of manners for? Why, I’d think you would be asking me to hide a body you don’t legally have the license to have—”
“Jouno.”
Tecchou’s tone is serious and, somehow, weak. Jouno comes to his side without another word.
“Coffins aren’t supposed to be so small,” Tecchou mumbles. When Jouno rests a palm over Tecchou's knuckles, he can feel the hand beneath his own shaking. Tecchou takes a deep breath in.
“I don’t think I can tell you his story today.”
“That’s fine. Just hearing that is enough for me to connect the dots.”
For some reason, that makes Tecchou lift his head and regard Jouno with … malice he’s never felt before.
“How can you speak like that?”
“Like what, Tecchou-san?”
Tecchou puts his hand on his own chest, taking a step towards Jouno.
“You’re the one who made me care about death like this. If I hadn’t gotten the time to know his parents, the time to know his teachers left behind, my heart wouldn’t ache so much.”
It’s irrational. The brunette knows that. It’s irrational to be mad at Jouno for actions he jokingly egged Tecchou onto.
But everything about Tecchou when it comes to Jouno is irrational. The brunette knows that as well.
“What? What are you even saying?”
Tecchou clenches his fists at his sides.
“You take my stories for what they are—stories. But you don’t know, or understand just how much those stories hurt for the people who tell them to me. You just don’t care about people.”
“And neither did you, Tecchou-san, not until I—“
“I’ve always cared, I’ve just never been able to show it. Until you. I didn’t know what to do about it. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, and I can’t live without it, but I will if you keep talking like that.”
“Like what?”
Jouno’s voice is full of venom.
“Like you’re above it all. Because I know you aren’t, because when you offer your respects to the dead and burn the candles with me, you sincerely wish the best for them. For even if you laugh at misfortunes in life, you still want the best in the end. Because I believe in you, that you who believed in me too.”
Deafening silence falls between them.
The grandfather clock chimes.
Jouno takes a step back and turns on his heel, head held down.
Tecchou makes no move to follow after the florist. He turns back to the coffin, closing his eyes, and sighs deeply.
❀❀❀❀
Tecchou requests a few days off afterward, making Teruko outright text if he was possessed by some supernatural entity—or out sick.
When he does go to work, he arrives late, surprising even himself.
“There’s a first time for everything,” he mumbles to Teruko when he’s confronted by her about it. She shakes her head and crosses her arms, tapping her foot on the floor repeatedly.
“Not for you, there isn’t, mister! What’s the issue?”
“Nothing.”
Her eyebrow twitches.
“Fine. I get that you’re not in a good mood—“
“I am.”
“Stop lying. Anyways, like I was saying, I get you’re not in a good mood but I’m going to give you this—some guy with white hair came in and asked if you were around to hand it to you. Said to come as soon as you could after getting it too.”
He tilts his head at that, examining the small business card with a critical eye.
It’s for a flower shop.
Huh.
“ …May I take the day off.”
Instead of a resounding no, Teruko lets out a relieved sigh.
“I was hoping you’d say that. Enjoy your birthday, Tecchou!”
She pushes him out of the door with a flourish, slamming it shut after him loudly.
Huh. So it is his birthday.
❀❀❀❀
He checks the address on the card once more, then twice more. It’s on the third glance he realizes just how weird a man in a cleanly pressed suit looks on a nice spring day, standing awkwardly in front of a flower shop.
He pushes open the door and steps into the shop, in awe of how colorful it is compared to the funeral parlor.
… Well, that’s just common sense after all.
“Mornin’, sir!” A chipper blonde boy with freckles greets Tecchou from behind the register, straw hat dangled around the back of his neck. Tecchou acknowledges the blonde with a nod and shuffles over, bowing his head down to meet the shorter kid’s eyes.
“How can I help ya?”
Tecchou wrings his hands together.
“My boss said a white-haired man wanted me to come here.”
The boy lights up, clapping his hands together.
“Oh, ya must be Tecchou-san, then! Jouno-san was working on somethin’ for ya, now that I think about it—let me get it!”
With that, the blonde boy disappears into the greenhouse, only to reappear in the blink of an eye with a bouquet bigger than his head.
“Wow.”
“Mhm! Wowie, right!”
He sets it down on the counter between them.
“Are you sure … Jouno doesn’t just want me to deliver it to someone for him?”
“Mm … nope! He asked Tachihara-san if he could write the kanji for your name on the gift tag for him, after all!”
The brunette’s cheeks flush at that.
“Oh.”
The boy beams at him.
“I must say, you’re really lucky! Pink camellias, clovers, gardenias, and so much more! It’s packed with so many feelings … I would be flattered to get something crafted with so much thought, myself!”
Tecchou’s throat suddenly feels dry. He coughs into his fist.
“Right. Let me pay for this.”
“Huh? No, I couldn’t let you do that! Jouno-san made it as a gift for you, if he knew you’d pay for it, that'd defeat the point!”
Tecchou’s eyes fall to the floor.
“Well …currently, we’re not on the best terms—“
The door behind Tecchou flies open before he can finish his sentence, and that hauntingly familiar voice he had been yearning to hear for the past few nights enters his ears.
“Did he finally come in to get the flowers, that oaf?”
The boy leans to the side and waves from behind Tecchou, peeking out.
“You came at the perfect time, Jouno-san!! He’s right here, claiming them right now!”
Jouno’s exasperated expression turns into a sinister smile, clasping his hands together.
“Oh, is he now, Kenji-kun?”
“He is,” Tecchou mumbles, trying to shrink as much as he can.
Jouno makes his way over to Tecchou in large strides, crossing his arms.
“So?”
Tecchou bites down on his lip.
“So … ? You didn’t need to buy me a gift as an apology—”
He groans and grinds on Tecchou’s toes, sticking his tongue out at him.
“It’s not an apology, dumbass. The timing just lined up like that. It’s a …”
Jouno looks to the side, suddenly more preoccupied with the blooming hydrangeas in the hanging pot next to him than finishing his sentence.
“Go on, you can tell him!'' The boy named Kenji cheerfully encourages, making Jouno turn red from earnestness. The florist sighs and looks back up at Tecchou, clenching his fists at his side.
“ … It’s a birthday gift.”
“Oh.”
They did discuss ages and birthdays, didn’t they? It had Jouno rejoicing that he was older than Tecchou, as childish as it was.
Tecchou smiles at the memory.
“I hope you weren’t going to ask Kenji-kun what exactly the bouquet meant before I walked in, I’ll have you know.”
“I’d never. That’s your place in my life.”
Jouno huffs and tilts his chin up.
“Don't make it sound so official.”
There’s crashing in the back as a boy with dyed orange hair bursts into view, eyes wide as he points to Tecchou.
“Ay, is that Jouno-san’s crush from that scary morgue?!”
Tecchou turns to Jouno.
“Crush?”
Jouno smiles back at the boy, but it’s clear it’s meant to be anything but comforting. A threat to the recipient’s life, probably.
“Tachihara-kun.”
‘Tachihara’ stands straight up and salutes to Jouno, nodding his head in respect.
“Enjoy your day off, Jouno-san!”
“Don’t forget the bouquet!” Kenji adds, practically shoving it into Tecchou’s arms. Jouno pinches Tecchou’s cheek to get his attention, tilting the brunette’s head questioningly.
“Have any birthday plans?”
“No.”
“Wow. It's almost depressing how fast you answered that.”
Before Tecchou can reply with an “is it?”Jouno takes his hand and pushes him out through the door of the shop.
“I know a coffee shop near here,” Jouno idly comments, one hand on his cane and the other keeping Tecchou in tow.
It isn’t until they’ve gone to a movie together that Tecchou realizes this could count as a date.
When he asks Jouno about it, the florist says nothing. But, by the time of their fifth stop, a bar where he absolutely demolishes the liquor cabinet—Tecchou’s given a hint.
Jouno lets him stay the night at his place (it’s nearby), sets him up with a water bottle and bucket to throw up in the morning after, and finishes it off with a kiss on the cheek.
❀❀❀❀
“Got your good vibes back?”
Tecchou looks up from his phone and shrugs in response to Teruko’s question. She laughs and pokes his cheek.
“You’ve been happier lately, I’ve noticed it!”
“I’m not any different from usual.”
“Liar!”
Questioning him directly would probably work eventually, but with this level of secrecy, Teruko will have to get creative.
“Could I see the time on your phone?”
Without thinking anything of it, Tecchou hands it to her.
She snickers at the lock screen photo of a white-haired man cuddling up to his dog on his bed, Tecchou’s arm in frame wrapped around them.
Bingo.
“Congrats, lovebird,” she cheekily replies, not missing the way his cheeks pinken slightly.
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” he replies, agreeing to the time Jouno sends out for their date.