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Eddie Diaz has wondered about the earth for a long time.
He’d gone by many names, seen many faces and lived many lives. He’d been worshipped by crowds and loved by the masses. He’d been forgotten, his temples destroyed or repurposed. He’d learnt languages that no longer exist, fascinated by the development of language and how none had yet come up with a word that could truly represent the agony that had carved its way into his bones – although he suspects that, at some point, someone might get close.
He'd spent years just watching the world, the world that fought and fought and fought in an endless bloodshed. Always over meaningless things, where the true trigger would be forgotten and only pain and death and body count would be remembered accurately. He’d watched the years after, as beauty grew from the blood that had fallen. There is an art in sorrow.
He knew the beauty that grew from blood far too intimately.
People suggested that he was a man of myths and legends, stories that weren’t his attributed to him and pinned to his lapels without consent. Some say that he drove a chariot that pulled the sun behind him, the start and end of each day dictated by him. Others liked to claim that he was a prophet that was able to divine the secrets of the future and dictated them in riddles to his oracles, each dictating the inevitabilities of this universe. They liked to say that he was an enigma, an antithesis – somehow both the harbinger of plagues that killed the masses and the warm hand of a healing touch that saved those left. Like he was somehow the dictator on who was important enough for their story to continue. Finally, music. They said music was a calling, a lyre forever depicted at his side.
There were only two myths that reigned true, the rest a symptom of constant existence and wrong place, wrong time. No man could pull the sun, the future was just as nebulous to him as it was everyone else (and, oh, how he wished he could’ve predicted the future), there was no plague or healing tingling his finger tips and he couldn’t hold a tune, like at all.
What Eddie Diaz did do, though, was invent archery – at least according to him. His sister, Sophia, often tried to claim the credit and tried to boast that she was the superior shot, even though it wasn’t true.
He was the one who killed Patroclus and sparked the end of the Trojan war, after all, so he was clearly the better marksman.
People may not have been the most impressed with that move, and it did cause the downfall of the Aristos Achaion, but it was an important, defining moment in history! And it was the only one he was actually involved in.
Eddie didn’t like to dwell too long on the second myth that rang true. It already took up his every agonizing breath in, and every shuddering breath out, and every moment in between – he didn’t particularly like to relive the details.
The death involved in this myth – his myth – was much, much sadder even if barely anyone but him recalled it now. It was stowed away in history books, only the occasional scholar blowing the dust from the page and reading the sorrow that bled through the ink. It was easily the moment that Eddie regretted most in the entirety of his long history, the centuries that had ran past him since tainted constantly by loss.
Hyacinthus was the most beautiful man that Eddie had ever laid eyes on – the epitome of Greek prince, draped in finery, masculine yet soft at the same time. His muscles were the perfect level of definition with enough fat around them to survive the coldest winders and remind everyone around him that he was well fed and wealthy. His pecs? Well, they were positively to die for.
You could say that Eddie became obsessed from first sight.
To truly understand their tragic love story, you must start on the midmorning it all began. The sun was already roasting Eddie’s shoulder blades, and he had a thin sheen of sweat on his brow when he first got to memorize the face that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The work Eddie was doing was backbreaking, marching through row after row of grape vines as he pruned them and examined the crop that was growing a deep, luscious red. Most of the crop that year was healthy – they’d become an excellent wine once matured.
Nearly thirty rows in, Eddie almost fell over him. Sat on the floor, tucked up against the trellising, Hyacinthus was plucking individual grapes from their vines and bursting them between his teeth, gorging himself on the fruit so much that it was staining his pink lips a tantalizing red.
If you asked Eddie to describe Hyacinthus, the first word he would utter would be perfection. He’d then point out that a perfect specimen cannot be described for no words truly encapsulate their beauty, they just are. Then, he’d focus on the wine-colored birthmark that surrounded his eyebrow and the beautiful blue eyes that peered up at him, captivating his soul and luring him like a siren does a sailor to the sea. Many people throughout history have described Eddie as a god, but it was in that moment of first-sight that he realized that every one of them had got it wrong.
Ethereal beauty belonged only to Hyacinthus – Aphrodite, time to hand over your crown.
“Excuse me,” Eddie finally managed, words stumbling over themselves. The other man, until that moment, had been oblivious to Eddie’s presence, continuing to steal individual grapes from the bunch. “You aren’t meant to be out here, sir.”
Hyacinthus startled then, head tilting up quickly in shock while his hand remained frozen half-way between the vine and his mouth with a ripe grape pinched between thumb and forefinger. There was a beat of silence where they both stared at one another. “Wow, you’re hot!” is what Hyacinthus settled on for a reply and then twisted his face a little like even he hadn’t expected himself to say that.
Eddie stood still, unsure how to respond. The most beautiful man – no, person – in the entirety of the world had just complimented him on his looks?
“Sorry,” the man then said, a bashful smile decorating his cheeks in a way that endeared Eddie even further. He rose to his feet, his legs seemingly stretching on forever until he ended up a few inches taller than Eddie, eyes meeting much more intimately than before. Eddie swallowed, not sure whether he trusted himself to be normal. “I’m Hyacinthus. I do technically own these vine fields, but I appreciate that I probably shouldn’t actually be out here!”
It was only then that Eddie picked up on the royalty of the man, now that he was stood and not crouched among the dirt in hiding. He was dressed in soft linen robes, perfect for the heat, that were draped across his muscles in a way that Eddie was sure would cause anyone in his vicinity to swoon, one pebbling nipple on display. His hair, almost like sheep fur and no doubt even softer, was disrupted by a golden laurel that tangled itself among the curls. His face and skin appeared unmarred bar a small nick in the skin of his cheek, a sign that he spent most of his time around the palace and sparring with the royal guards, never once sent to war. He didn’t smell of thick sweat like other men did, instead smelling fresh like he visited the palace bath near daily.
Eddie hastily tucked himself into a bow, not sure whether he should be worried about the lack of etiquette that he’d shown and introduced himself. The man above him just chuckled. “None of that, thank you. I’m here to escape it.”
“Of course,” Eddie agreed. He wasn’t entirely sure whether this was actually happening – had he knocked his head this morning? “Why are you escaping?”
“Sometimes it just gets a little bit too much,” Hyacinthus sighed, looking into the distance where his palace stood, just a little bit higher than everything else around it. “There is no escaping, not truly, but at least among these fields I know I am getting a few moments of peace.”
“I didn’t realize that being a prince was such a hardship,” Eddie replied, although that was somewhat of a lie. There was something about having too much time filled with not enough purpose, and he could imagine that was exactly what the life of a prince like Hyacinthus would entail, considering he was likely deemed too perfect of an heir to risk.
“Well,” he refocused on Eddie and a fake, soft smile pulled at his lips, muted in comparison to the smile that had previously been thrown in his direction mere minutes before. Eddie would do, he thinks, almost anything to never have to see Hyacinthus fake smile at him ever again. “It’s not too bad, but the odd moment to myself to enjoy the beauty of the world is always welcome.”
“I’m sure,” Eddie agreed. “Well, you are welcome anytime as long as you do not interrupt my work.”
The fakeness of the smile began to fade then, as Eddie moved on to go about his day with shear in hand until the sun had long set. He’d moved on from where the man was perched, yet it seemed like his brain was still stuck there staring at a face that was impossible to forget.
Eddie was known to have many lovers, but those too were stories that had been stapled onto his chest, not a pinch of truth to them. Rather, Eddie hadn’t found an interest in anyone before, the constant reminder that human life was temporary often calming any initial seed of attraction he had for someone, and others like him were not particularly those he liked to hang around.
Hyacinthus appears to have broken the mold there too, standing out to Eddie like a beacon of light during a storm. Hyacinthus didn’t leave his mind for a single moment.
Hyacinthus took Eddie’s comments as an invitation, hiding himself among the grape vines at an increasing frequency. Although never the same vine, Eddie always found him tucked away, and he always chose a weaker crop that would be discarded if he didn’t let the juice stain his lips and fingers instead. They joked together, never lingering for too long, and Eddie would stare at his pecs for just a few moments too long before Hyacinthus would crack another joke that would make Eddie’s head fall back as he laughed. Eddie would lose himself in his sea-blue eyes during those moments of stolen time, like getting lost might allow him to stay.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Hyacinthus asked one afternoon during which Eddie had let his stare linger on his lips, on how the light highlighted the grape-stained skin and how they looked kiss-bitten, pouted beautifully every time that Hyacinthus would pause his rambling.
Eddie trailed his eyes from Hyacinthus’ lips to his eyes which reflected the same longing that Eddie’s did. Eddie brought a work-roughened hand to Hyacinthus’ cheek and pulled him into a kiss that was first gentle, then desperate, filled with want and desire and love.
The rest was history.
And it was book history too – important history, essential history for Eddie himself. It shaped him, continues to shape him, keeping him held in a tangle so tight he can barely breathe. There are thick thorns of Hyacinthus’ memory that curl around his limbs, wounding and constricting him and never letting go.
Months later, Hyacinthus’ head was resting in Eddie’s lap one morning, a colder time where the fields didn’t need as much care, and he had a little bit more time to spend doting. Eddie’s fingers had buried themselves in Hyacinthus’ blond-brown curls, massaging, as Hyacinthus stared at the clouds above them and dictated what shapes he thought they looked like.
“I wish this could be our forever,” Hyacinthus sighed, before twisting his body so that his face tucked into Eddie’s stomach. “But instead, we are destined to be held apart. I will become a king and marry someone to have an heir, and you will continue on.”
“I will never just continue on,” Eddie found himself promising. It was almost funny how the promise became true for an entirely different reason. “I will follow you for as long as you let me, trailing behind you as you become king and loving you in the shadows if you’ll let me.”
“Loving?” The whisper was so soft, so gentle, so unsure. Eddie was somewhat surprised he hadn’t let his love slip from his lips before now, a love that had been there since almost the beginning, but his heart still pounded underneath his ribs now that it had. It was thumping, almost like it was trying to break free.
“Yes, loving. I, well, I love you.”
Hyacinthus’ breath shuddered, his hands coming to grip at the work-worn robe he was wearing to cover his modesty. It then slipped up a little further to press against the skin above his hip, almost as if checking that Eddie was truly real.
“I love you too,” he whispered, and this was probably Eddie’s perfect moment. Sure, it wasn’t a loud declaration shouted in the town square for all who cared to listen, but it sat just right. Eddie had no need to be a known lover of Hyacinthus if he still got to keep his heart, tenderly cupped between his palms.
“Then, I shall love, and love, and love you forever,” Eddie promised, knotting his own fingers among Hyacinthus’.
In the end, they got a year of each other.
One fateful day, shrouded in a misery that Eddie did not yet know, the sun was beating down on their shoulders, yet their energy was as high as ever. The summer had been a long, hot one, but an exciting one as the Olympics were happening and there was a thrum of playfulness in the air. Hyacinthus, even, had become obsessed with the competition surrounding it, and had taken to introducing Eddie to each new sport in his downtime. Eddie fondly told him that he’d seen the Olympics before and knew them all, but Hyacinthus insisted that they play them together even so.
“I bet I can throw my discus further than you,” Hyacinthus had taunted that momentous afternoon, holding up the stone plate with a grin. Eddie returned the contagious grin; his smile had become nearly cheek-tearing any time he was among his love.
“Hm,” Eddie responded with a teasing hum. “I’m sure you really believe that.”
“A kiss if I win?”
“A kiss even if you lose,” Eddie promised, and then let out a laugh when the discus flew nowhere near as far as expected, landing with a thud a few meters from them. Hyacinthus pouted, Eddie pressed a soft kiss against his lips and then watched as Hyacinthus fetched the discus.
When Eddie took the heavy weighted discus in his hands, he hadn’t known the tragedy that was held between his fingers. As he threw it, when the stone had slipped from those fingers with grace, he knew that something was wrong. The wind had whipped around his fingers, yet he felt no breeze on his cheeks. Something that couldn’t truly be described but settled close to dread filled his stomach, nausea choking him.
His eyes stared at the discus as it soared, flying at speed. He watched as Hyacinthus let out a loud laugh, soft and beautiful, before chasing after it, planning to pick it up from wherever it landed. The winds changed, whipping across Eddie’s skin, as Hyacinthus got closer, the discus veering off course.
“Hyacinthus!” Eddie had shouted, the words leaving in an uncontrolled panic, but it had already been too late. As the man turned his head to look towards him with a soft smile, unaware of the danger hurtling towards him, the discus collided with the side of his head with a deafening thwack. Hyacinthus stumbled forward before falling into a pile of growing blood.
Eddie rushed over, running as fast as he could before dropping to his knees before Hyacinthus, shifting the man into his lap and his hands coming to cradle the man’s face as blood dripped down his fingers in rivets.
“It’s going to be okay,” Eddie whispered, the lie bitter across his tongue. The younger man’s face was full of fear, pain not even registering on his features. One iris was larger than the other, and his stare was unfocused as he looked at Eddie. “We’ll get you somewhere that can help and we’ll-“
“Love… you,” Hyacinthus managed to push past his vocal cords, the words barely a whisper, tongue dampening his bottom lip between words. He had tears welling on his lash-line, one hand managing to shift so that it clung to Eddie’s robe.
“I love you too,” Eddie said, a single tear falling to land on Hyacinthus’ face, his lap now a puddle of blood, soaking through so that he could feel it wetting his thighs. He held him as Hyacinthus’ breaths became labored, wanting to pretend that his hands could hold him together enough to stop the bleeding. With a final shuddered breath, Hyacinthus’ twitching fingers stilled and his eyes lost focus completely, his head falling lip in Eddie’s lap.
Eddie’s sobs could likely be heard for miles, loud and harrowing in disbelief. How could nature be so cruel?
He sat in the field for hours, the blood drying tacky against his skin as he somehow found more and more tears to cry, tracks running down his cheeks as his body wracked with sobs.
Eddie is no god. Unlike the stories, he did not transform Hyacinthus’ spirit into a flower, nor use his blood to form beauty with a deity’s magic. Instead, he spent hours at his sink, trying to scrub the staining from his skin, skin red and raw, water hot enough to leave his skin feeling blistered.
He never felt fully clean.
Eddie didn’t get to attend Hyacinthus’ burial. When he returned his body to the palace, it had been taken from his grip and he’d not been allowed to follow to where they were to perform the burial rituals. He was also fired, the king saying that it was suspicious that he had Hyacinthus’ dead body, but his sorrow being strong enough that he wouldn’t send him for execution.
Instead, he went to the patch of field where Hyacinthus had died, the ground still red and muddy from the blood that had pooled beneath them. He grabbed local flowers, scrapped the seeds from their flowers and buried them, turning soil with his hands.
He marked the spot with sticks, tended to the areas, sat among the muddy ground and sobbed and sobbed. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d watered the ground with his tears during the first few months.
It took a few breeding seasons, the flowers cross pollinating and growing and cross pollinating, but eventually the flower he named the hyacinth had grown from the ground, the flowers a wonderful purple. He’d finally grown a flower almost as beautiful as the love he’d lost.
That had been over 2000 years ago, and he’d moved around a lot since then. He’d lived on almost every continent, explored places and cultures, and became loved by so many just for existing in this endless time. He inspired artists across generations, his dedication to Hyacinthus and the strength of his grief so powerful.
He’d kept a hyacinth, at least one, every day since the first one had grown among other flowers. Sometimes it was a small potted plant, a handful of them stood proud in a hand-decorated pot. Other times it was an entire garden, having convinced barons that the hyacinth was the perfect flower for their villas, tending to each flower. Usually, it was something in between the two, a window box or a garden patch in a crowded city.
After years of wondering, Eddie had settled into floristry. He’d almost gone back to grape farming, wine making, to retrace their origin in sorrow, to hide among vines and reminisce on their stolen kisses. Instead, a worn-down floristry shop that was on the edge of bankruptcy had caught his attention at just the right time, almost like it was screaming at Eddie that this was exactly where he was meant to spend the next part of his eternal life. So, sunny Los Angeles was where he settled.
It’d seemed fitting – dedicating his life to caring for Hyacinthus even in his death through his namesake flowers and others flowers he would’ve no doubt loved to duck his head into to sniff and pluck from the ground to tuck behind his or Eddie’s ear. While he knew that Hyacinthus’ soul wasn’t contained within the petals of his plants, he could pretend and cared for each flower like they did.
“Hi!” A loud voice broke the quiet, serene atmosphere of the floristry shop that only existed in the first few hours of opening, where Eddie was able to concentrate on snipping stems and putting together the daily bouquet deliveries. Eddie’s shop wasn’t the most popular florist in the local area, but it’d earned a name for having some of the longest lasting flowers. “I was hoping you’d be able to help – I want some flowers to add to my sister’s birthday gift!”
“For when?” Eddie asked, disinterest coloring his tone. He had little to no interest in anything these days, this store and the flowers around him being the only exceptions. The outside of the building may read ‘The Happy Hyacinth’ – a name he’d chosen on a whim on a warm day when the sun on his back was the closest he felt to the love Hyacinthus had blanketed him in for a long time – but it was rare occurrence for the owner to be smiling anything other than a forced customer service grimace.
It had been Chris, the teenager he’d hired as a part-time employee, who’d doodled the logo of the store which promised a much more upbeat atmosphere than usually hang in the air. Chris was the only one, after all, who brought any cheer to the store.
“Uh – Do you have to preorder? I didn’t realize…” the man said, sheepish. If Eddie had looked up, he would have noticed that the man’s biceps bulged as he scratched the back of his head. He’d also notice other important details, but Eddie was far too absorbed in his own misery to pay much attention to anything.
“Usually,” Eddie replied. “I can pull you together a simple bouquet, but you won’t have many options to customize it to your tastes.”
“That’s fine!” The man rushed out, almost like he worried if he said it at a normal speed that Eddie would turn him away. “She doesn’t have any opinions on flowers other than them smelling nice, and she wouldn’t necessarily expect me to know anything about them either. I mean, I have done a few deep dives on the meaning of flowers just because I thought about it one day when buying flowers for an ex. Like did you know that the purple hyacinth behind you means ‘sorrow’ and ‘a desire for forgiveness’?”
Eddie had to admit that he was a little endeared by the man who, when he glanced up, was at least six-foot of what looked like pure muscle, handsome with curly hair and soft pink lips that, if Eddie entertained his thoughts long enough to follow them, looked kissable and sweet. “I do, as a florist, surprisingly know the meaning of flowers. Would be unfortunate if I accidentally gave someone a bouquet that said, ‘I hate you’ for a funeral or birthday.”
“I suppose that’s true,” the man said with a laugh.
“So, it’s $35 for a basic bouquet – that’s 13 stems and foliage, wrapped with a decorative bow. That work for you, Mr. Flower Deep-Diver?”
“Sounds perfect – thank you!” The man replied, sounding almost like a puppy. Eddie found a small smile working its way onto his lips, but he kept his eyes down away from the man, something unsettling rumbling in his stomach at the thought of finding anyone else even the slightest bit attractive or funny. There was also a current under his skin which felt like a live wire, something telling him that this man was different – special. He didn’t plan on entertaining it.
Although he wanted to – for a reason he couldn’t really explain – Eddie couldn’t afford to spend too much time on the bouquet, pulling together some fresh white lilies, carnations and foliage into an eye-catching, well-rehearsed bundle that was wrapped in cellophane and tied with a decorative pink bow. Eddie used his scissors to create ribbon ringlets as the man hovered above him, and then he placed them on the counter by the register. The man paid by card, signing the receipt with a flourish, before taking the flowers. He left happy, just like most Eddie’s customers.
Eddie expected that to be the last time he saw the man.
“Hi!” The same man bounded into his shop three weeks later, somehow more eager than he’d been during his last visit and – oh.
Pinching his eyebrow, a soft pink birthmark decorated his skin in a way that was far too like Hyacinthus’ to be a coincidence.
Now that his eyes had full taken the man in, absorbing all the details of him, the man was nearly identical – the only difference being the definition of the muscle, the clothes he was wearing and the barely visible scarring across his cheeks from what looked to be scratches.
“Good morning,” Eddie replied, refusing to acknowledge the rate at which his heart was pounding. This was just one of those doppelganger situations, right? “Someone has a lot of pep in their step for 8am.”
“On my way to work and my co-worker is finally back from family leave! She’s the greatest paramedic you’ve ever met alongside Chim – he’s dating the sister I brought the flowers for last time – and I’ve missed her a ton. I want to get her a quick bunch of welcome back flowers if you’re not too busy?”
“Not very good at planning ahead, are you?” Eddie teased with a chuckle, rolling out some cellophane on the counter. A soft blush spread across the man’s cheeks. “I’ve already prepped my deliveries for the morning, so I can give you a bit more time today. What sort of flowers does she like, do you know?”
“Not a clue,” the man replied with a grin, which seemed contradictory. His eyes were roaming the rows of flower bins that were behind Eddie, although he didn’t miss the way that the man’s eyes glanced up and down Eddie every time his eyes passed across him. They focused on a tub filled with sunflowers. “But her and her wife have just adopted an adorable child called Mara who absolutely loves sunflowers. They just finished growing them for science experiments in her middle school! Maybe one of those?”
“Well, you’d need more than one for a bouquet, but I think that’s something I can work with.”
“Can you make it $50 in value? Is that a thing?”
“Sure,” Eddie said with an easy grin, his heart fluttering when the man grinned back at him. His soul was screaming at Eddie, chanting ‘It’s me, I’m here’, and Eddie isn’t entirely sure how he managed to miss it the first time the man had been across from him. “A bouquet of that value even gets an artistic calligraphy card – anything special you want to say other than congratulations?”
“Congratulations on skipping the diaper stage. Lots of love, Buck,” the man – Buck – replied with a grin that was wide and seemed to take up most of his face. Eddie found himself suddenly parched, that smile so achingly familiar. Eddie let out what could only be described as a giggle which only made the smile, somehow, wider.
Well-practiced in the art of calligraphy, Eddie used his dip-pen to create a beautiful card that tucked in, on a plastic stand, alongside the flowers. They pulled together into a beautiful bouquet, elegant – if he did say so himself.
“Here you are,” Eddie said, delicately laying the bigger bouquet in Buck’s (muscular) arms after he’d paid.
Eddie had never been an overly brave man, always quiet and anxious. He was never the type to openly hit on someone even when they were displaying signs of interest. Hyacinthus – no, Buck; he deserved to be his own version of the same soul – had always helped him to be courageous, so he placed his business card on the bouquet, his personal number scribbled on the back with ‘Call me?’. “Maybe we could get coffee?”
Buck winked at him before carefully making his way out of the door.
Eddie didn’t hear from Buck.
With a heavy heart, Eddie continued to potter around his shop in pining. How cruel, truly, did the world have to be to tease him with the possibility, the idea, of loving once again, one more chance to do it all again, and maybe this time have it last until Buck was old and gray? Eddie considered for the first time whether he may actually be cursed.
What good is a long – potentially endless? – lifespan is all he does it live through it in sorrow? He didn’t even have the energy to try and do good in the world day after day.
Hey
The familiar beep of a text message had made Eddie jump and spill a basin of water in front of Christopher, the teen laughing and taking a picture of him in his sodden shirt. Eddie never got a text, didn’t have anyone to text other than Christopher about work times and the boy was here, sweeping the floor and shooing dying plant leaves and petals out of the door.
It’d been two weeks, two torturous weeks of trying to move on and convince himself that Buck wasn’t actually the same soul (not that it actually worked).
Sorry it took me so long to text you
That’s okay
I wasn’t exactly single when you gave me that card. I should’ve said something then.
But you are now?
Yep. Couldn’t stop thinking about this really hot guy who runs a flower shop with the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen
Made me think I should probably break up with the poor guy
I’m flattered
You should be 😉
Date tonight?
I’ll clear my calendar
Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how he remained normal after that. He had a date – a date! With a man who had actively broken up with someone due to how much they couldn’t stop thinking about him. With someone who shared a soul with the love of his life, and it looked like that soul might be yearning to be settled next to his as much as his own was to be settled next to theirs.
He attempted to distract himself by planning some upcoming wedding bouquets, but there was only so much thought he could put into a relatively easy request with an emphasis on wanting traditional – nothing too elaborate or original. Just whites and creams and some green foliage to bulk out the bouquet.
The only consolation was it being a wedding bouquet – it meant he got the request well in advance and was able to put a premium price tag on them considering the shop would be shut for the morning of the wedding.
Christopher had noticed almost immediately that the atmosphere had changed, immediately digging into his business and then teasing him until he admitted that he had a date. Yes, Christopher, a date with the hot man who came in two weeks ago. Yes, the one that left him moping but also constantly gushing about him. Yes, that one.
Christopher had laughed at him before telling him he was happy for Eddie, jealous that he’d not yet had the chance to meet him. “I just want to meet the guy who’s made you a bit insufferable to work with, really.”
“Oi! I am still your boss,” Eddie replied, pointing his pruning scissors in Chris’ direction. The boy just gave him an innocent grin. “It’s always early anyway, you’d never be able to get up to come to work then, be all complaints. And he’s only been in two times anyway.”
“Wait, do you actually know anything about him?” Chris then asked, and Eddie paused. Eddie was well known for turning down anyone who showed even the slightest bit of interest, turning his head at flirting the second he realized. There was even one slightly embarrassing situation where a woman flirted by coming in to buy flowers each week for her classroom, and it was only when Christopher loudly said ‘My teacher wants to take you on a date’ while she was still there, a red flush tinting her cheeks, that Eddie even realized and felt horrible about turning her down. Luckily, telling women you’re flattered but gay made them feel less horrible most of the time.
How does Eddie explain that no, he knew nothing about Buck, yet knew his soul was still the same one he’d promised to love forever, still clung to in grief?
“No, but he was very sweet. Just… stood out, I suppose,” Eddie brushed off, although he could feel the blush that heated his cheeks as Christopher gave him side-eye.
“Special, then,” Christopher said after a few moments of quiet. “It’s good to see you finally getting back out there. You’ve moped for seemingly forever about some guy I don’t even know, and I’ve known you for literally years!”
Christopher had first started coming to the shop aged five with his single mom who had also tried to ask him out on a date after a few months of casually coming into the shop to buy bouquets for various friends’ birthdays. He wouldn’t call them friends, but she still came in regularly after he turned her down, and he had gladly allowed the curious boy that was Christopher learn everything about the various flowers he had around the store. There hadn’t been any hesitation when he’d asked for a summer job aged 15 – and he was 17 now, nearly an adult. “You want me to lock up, right?
“Yes, please,” Eddie nodded with a soft grin. The shop always closed at 7pm, which was an hour before Buck was meant to arrive for their date, but Eddie planned to head up to his small flat above the shop and get ready obsessively the second they stopped their business hours so Christopher had agreed to do their usual closing routine on his own if he got his Saturday afternoon back – a hard bargain, but so, so worth it.
7pm rocked around quicker than Eddie expected, empty time still somehow flying when he had the prospect of H– Buck at the end of it. He swallowed as he looked at his freshly washed face in the mirror, mentally berating himself for calling him Hyacinthus again. Sure, the soul felt the same, the same groves and edges that settled against his own so perfectly that it felt like two puzzle pieces locking together with a satisfying snap, the same soul that was as beautiful as a blossoming flower. And sure, his face was nearly identical, although Buck had far more scars and scrapes, no air of royalty this go around. But this man was Buck. He had a different life, lived through different experiences – grew up with a phone!
It was only right that Eddie went into this as a fresh relationship. It wasn’t fair to treat him like they’d done this before – because only one of them had.
He settled into his shirt, a linen shirt in an off-white, shifting a little to adjust how it rested on his shoulders and undoing the top two buttons after some deliberation so just a peak of chest hair showed through. He flashed his grin at himself.
“Your date is outside,” Christopher called up the stairs as Eddie finished adjusting his hair, scrunching the product into it so that it looked windswept. He still wasn’t sure it was perfect for a second chance at forever with the love of his life.
Eddie sprayed his tongue with some mint breath spray before jogging down the stairs to find Buck stood in the door frame with an armful of – was that chocolate roses?
“Hi,” Buck breathed out. His eyes roamed Eddie’s figure. “You look amazing. Sorry it took me so long to figure out what I wanted.”
“That’s okay,” Eddie replied with a grin, cheeks flushed. “You picked me in the end, so I think I’m the winner here. Those for me?”
“Oh yeah!” Buck thrust them forward, Eddie taking them from his hand and pretending to breathe them in. Buck barked out a laugh, and there it was – the beautiful soul that shone so brightly and freely. “Felt wrong to buy my favorite florist flowers from another florist, so I thought that these would be the next best thing!”
Eddie’s cheeks were already starting to feel sore, and it was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. “Favorite florist? You sure I’m not the only one you know?” Eddie teased. “They’re perfect. I look forward to sharing them with you during our nightcap.”
“Sure of yourself,” Buck teased, holding out his hand once Eddie had placed the chocolate flowers on the workbench. Eddie slipped his fingers into Buck’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Nothing I’ve been surer about,” Eddie replied, and didn’t complain when Buck ducked down to start their first date with a kiss.
You see, Eddie had roamed the world for a long time.
For a long time, he’d been sure that he was destined to live a life of misery, alone and lost without the soul that matched his so perfectly. But now? Now he knew that there was nowhere that Buck – Hyacinthus, whatever variant came next – wouldn’t follow him.