Chapter Text
It's a quiet day, slower than usual. Not a lot of people have entered the shop since he opened it up at 8 am.
Julián is kinda glad about the quietness, the shortage of voices and cars around. It's peaceful.
The last two weeks have been long and hectic, way too many people decided to buy flowers for Mother's Day at the last possible moment. And on top of that, a bunch of clients coincidentally moved their marriage celebrations to the same days or days apart. It's fair to say that it was wild.
He had come awfully close to a mental breakdown with the looming threat of not having a single flower in stock by the end of it, but he sort of managed, pushed through the obstacles as he always has done. Looking at the glass half full.
That is the Álvarezs' family motto after all: "With optimism, love and flowers everything is possible", or something similar, he doesn't remember his mom's sayings that well if he is honest, she has retired so long ago he doesn't even remember much of her teachings either.
His management of the store is purely reliant on vibes and hard work if he is honest with himself.
Anyway, he loves the silence, the perfect opportunity to drink his sweet sweet coffee and hum his favorite specially curated playlist.
He isn't allowed to listen to whatever he wants, his brothers are convinced that listening to certain types of music in a flower shop isn't a great idea. Citing something about adapting to the city and its people, about integrating with England.
Which, he finds a bit insulting.
It should be some sort of crime being unable to spread the agenda, his culture and everything it comes with. He should be able to listen to cuarteto, cumbia or Argentinian trap without problem. He should drink mate, fernet with coca-cola, and even cook asado over the weekends. Who even cares what the British think?
He is Argentinian first and a person second, goddammit.
But, at the same time, he kinda gets it, even if it pains him to admit it.
He takes advantage of the calm and sends a text to Enzo asking how Valu's second pregnancy is going, you know, to be a good best friend and all that. The rays of sunshine filter through the windows, warming the place a bit more.
He is laughing at the younger's stories about Valu's carvings on his phone, a bit bored, his second mug of coffee long gone when he hears the door open with a chime.
In comes the nicest looking man he has ever seen. Long blond hair framing his face, pearly whites shining brightly, so fucking tall too.
He can't avoid looking, seeing how heavily toned he seems, a tight t-shirt showing how much work he must put in the gym. He swears his knees bend a little, his heart skips a beat.
No one can blame him for greeting the stranger rather awkwardly with a wave. It is not a normal occurrence to see someone straight out of a vogue magazine.
The stranger still keeps his smile, approaching meticulously towards the counter, posture right and with an almost perfect pace walk. "Good morning."
"Morning"
"So, I am looking for a bouquet," he says, and Julián is awfully aware of how pretty his blue eyes are. The mysterious man even has a nice voice, a cute accent.
He snaps out of it, trying to be as professional as he can be while lover by Taylor Swift is playing in the background. "Oh, yeah, so what were you thinking?"
"I don't really know," he touches his neck shyly, and he can't help but look at how his Adam's apple bobs without a care in the world, "Maybe one that could mean sorry?"
"Right," he tries to snap out of it, trying to remember what he has on stock for a moment, while simultaneously thinking about the multiple books detailing the meanings of each flower. "A bouquet of lilies of the valley could do - they represent rebirth, mending a relationship and turning the page. You could even add some tulips, that means new beginnings and forgiveness… it depends."
"On what?" The stranger asks with a raised eyebrow, bringing his arms together in front of his chest, crossing them in a carefree but closed way at the same time. As if there were walls with miles of height surrounding him. The tension on his shoulders is nearly palpable.
He wants to help out so badly, wants to comfort, let him escape his worries. He feels a bit weird at that thought.
"Depends on what you are asking forgiveness for," he stops for a moment, with a question in mind he cannot ask directly, but he has been in the business long enough to be able to discreetly do so, "I guess that if it is for your girlfriend, roses always work fine. They are the number one choice for a reason."
"It's not", the other says with strange tightness to his voice, oh God, he has made mister handsome upset.
He is a bit embarrassed about his own hetero-normative thinking, "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything-"
"It's okay, it's not for a girl. It's for my daughter", he explains quickly, stopping the rambling Julián was about to embark on, thank God, he didn't want to make a joke out of himself, humiliate himself further. He can feel the heat in his cheeks rising.
"You have a daughter?" He finds himself letting the question out without even noticing either way, confused. It's not really his fault, the tall man doesn't look a day over 25, and he is fucking hot.
Also, who the hell even has kids anymore in this economy? Well, apart from Enzo… and most of his other friends.
Well, huh, maybe he is the only one who hasn't had kids now that he thinks about it. He shakes his head, trying to stop the rambling going on in his brain.
His brothers might be right, he tries too hard to make conversation with his customers. He should just shut up, he doesn't need to know everything about them and their situations. Not everyone will take his pocking lightly.
He likes gossip, what can he say?
The stranger smiles at him again, he should be glad the blonde is nice. If he was another type of person he would have been cursed out already, believe it, he knows by experience. "Yeah, Mia, she is six."
"That's great! I love kids!" He says, before he can stop himself, his brain to mouth filter nowhere to be found. He doesn't have a single bone of subtlety on his body either.
He breaks the awkward pause by trying to get to know the other man a bit better, so he says, "Um, I am sorry for intruding, but why are you trying to say sorry?"
The other seems reserved, expression closed and mouth tight-lipped. The amusement lost momentarily from his face. Maybe he has pushed a bit much, and asked way too many personal questions to someone he doesn't even know the name of.
He is about to apologize when the man once again surprises him. "She is really independent, and I might have babied her a bit too much last week… So, here I am, trying to make it better."
"She likes flowers?"
"Oh yeah, she loves them. Her mother used to give her flowers constantly when she was little, and then it just became kind of a tradition around the house."
"And now you are here, trying to say sorry through flowers- I get it", he smiles at him.
"Yep"
"Well, so… blue hyacinths might be the best bet for your kid, they are known for being a representative of peace, people usually use them after a hurtful argument with a family member or a close friend." He says simply, trying to explain the best options while the other nods attentively. He is really excited about having someone listening in, being able to show his knowledge. At last the books in his house serve their role.
He goes over his explanations, even showing the catalog he has, pointing out arrangements he has done. They go over them for a bit, but the blonde doesn't seem sure. So then, somewhat disappointed, he proposes a new idea. "What about maybe just getting your daughter's favorite flowers? I can make an arrangement of a bunch of different ones."
"That could work…"
"I mean, I don't want to meddle but… I think she would appreciate her favorites over the meaning of a flower she doesn't know."
"No, you are right, it would be cooler to give her something she is familiar with already." He seems to think for a moment, opening the catalog once more, showing him some flowers. "She really likes vibrant colors, roses and orchids are her favorites - but use the ones you think would look best together."
"She has great taste!" he praises and then quickly adds, already moving to the back, "Wait here, I will go find the flowers and make the arrangement right now."
He lets out a string of labored air he didn't know he was reserving in his lungs, calming himself from the racing his heart had started, he feels weird.
So, he starts picking out the best flowers to get out his head, choosing the ones Mia seems to like the most by what her father has shown him.
Red roses, some white and pink orchids. And some others he knows would go great in combination and still hold the meaning of an apology, he is a bit of a nerd, adding yellow lilies to his idea. Then, grabs a bit of greenery, which is never enough.
He is about to make it back to the counter when he remembers the paper, he grabs the blue and red one.
Coming back he looks up at the blonde, he is on his phone typing, "Hey, I am back."
"Hey,"
"So, what's Mia's favorite color?" He asks, while cutting down some of the stems and getting rid of the thorns in the roses he picked. The last thing he wants to do is to hurt the little girl with a hot dad.
"Pink or red, definitely, she wants everything in those colors."
"Okay, red it is", he grabs the paper and puts it around the bouquet, tying it at the end with a little pink ribbon he just learned how to do. He is proud of it, it looks pretty, and he really hopes the girl likes it too. "And, that's all done!"
The man looks at it with wonder, he swears he can sort of see the shining behind his eyes, it feels almost perverted being able to see such a private emotion as an onlooker. The foreigner seems to be reliving some sort of memory.
After Julián encourages him, the other grabs the bouquet into his hands and fixes his gaze, as if the flowers are talking to him. Like him and them are the only thing in the world, softly touching the petals of the lilies.
And, if Julián had worse self-control maybe a little gasp would have left his lips, the blonde looks good, really good concentrated, and the rays of sunshine falling against his complexion makes him look like the real deal.
"It's really pretty, thank you",
Once again he thanks his rational self for putting a stop to the madness, for not saying something really stupid like, 'Not as pretty as you'. He is a mess.
"It's nothing, it's what I love doing," he ends up saying while going to the register, "It's gonna be £24.90"
The other pays, and before he can leave, he stops him. Curiosity is what killed the cat, but he doesn't particularly care about that. "I'm sorry, I think I didn't catch your name before, what is it?"
The man turns to him, a smile still plastered on his face, carrying the bouquet as if it were a baby, "Erling."
And just like that, he leaves.