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It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon, and there’s no one in the bookstore. Schools are set to release soon, and it will be pretty busy again for an hour or two. So Henry takes this opportunity to do some paperwork.
The bell above the door chimes softly as Henry looks up from his inventory list, his heart skipping a beat when he sees Alex walk in. The florist's arms are laden with a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, daisies, and lilies, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air and filling the cozy bookstore.
"Hey, Henry!" Alex calls out cheerfully, a warm smile lighting up his face. "I thought I'd bring over another bouquet since you told me you enjoyed the first one I got you."
Henry's cheeks flush as he stands up, brushing imaginary dust from his cardigan. He's been smitten with Alex since the florist started setting up shop across the street, but he hasn't worked up the courage to do more than exchange polite greetings.
"That's... that's so thoughtful of you, Alex; you really don’t have to do that." Henry manages, his eyes watering slightly as Alex approaches the counter and deposits the vase. He can feel his nose beginning to itch.
Alex beams at him, clearly proud of his creation. "I hope you like them. I chose colors that I thought would brighten up the place."
“They’re beautiful,” Henry agrees, because they are, and the last thing he wants is to see the smile vanish from Alex’s handsome face, should he discover Henry’s little secret.
The store in front of Henry’s bookshop has stood vacant for as long as Henry can remember. Recently, however, it sprang to life as a charming flower shop owned by one Alex Claremont-Diaz.
While this could be seen as a very unimportant event, it actually created a seismic shift in Henry’s life for the following reasons :
Reason nr 1: Alex Claremont-Diaz is the most beautiful man Henry has ever seen in his life
Reason nr 2: Despite his reputation as an eloquent and articulate individual—boasting an Oxford degree in English literature, a self-published anthology of poetry, and a collection of popular fanfictions on AO3—Henry's usual verbal prowess abandons him in Alex's presence, reducing him to a flustered, stammering mess.
Reason nr 3: In a gesture of neighborly goodwill, Alex recently paid Henry a visit, introducing himself and presenting an impressively large bouquet.
Reason nr 4: Unbeknownst to Alex, Henry has a severe flower allergy.
Reason nr 5: Alex is the most beautiful man…oh wait, no, he already mentioned that.
(It bears repeating, though.)
“Where do you want them?” Alex asks.
Henry gestures towards the bookshelves near the front window, surreptitiously holding his breath. "Over there, so customers can admire it upon entering," he manages, his voice slightly strained. Fortunately, Alex doesn’t seem to notice.
With the bouquet now a safe distance away, Henry feels marginally better and even a bit bolder, and he surprises himself with the words that come out of his mouth.
“I was about to prepare some tea…Do you have time for a cup or maybe some coffee?”
And wow, he didn’t even stutter. Progress.
Is that a faint blush creeping on Alex’s cheek? What is obvious, though, is the look of deep regret crossing his face. "I'm afraid I can't at the moment. I'm alone in the shop, but... raincheck?" he asks, his voice tinged with hope .
In that instant, Henry realizes he'll never be capable of denying this man anything. Ever.
Even if it means concealing a corpse or using his bookstore as a front for a Colombian drug cartel.
Well, perhaps not that last one. He does have some standards, after all.
Over the next few weeks, Alex continues his floral visits, each time bringing a different arrangement to brighten up the bookstore. Henry's allergies worsen with each bouquet, but he can't bring himself to tell Alex the truth. Because now, when Alex stops by, he always has a cup of coffee while Henry has his tea, and they talk.
Their conversations reveal a surprising wealth of common ground, time slipping away as they get into passionate discussions. On occasion, Alex's sister, June, has to intervene, gently reminding her brother of his duties. Henry loves these interactions, even if they leave him a wheezing, sneezing mess once Alex leaves.
He’s been gathering his courage to finally ask Alex if they could have a drink together outside of opening hours or, even better, dinner.
But the thing is, even though Alex is charming and lovely and even a bit of a flirt ( his casual use of "sweetheart" nearly caused Henry to swoon ), Henry has no idea if this could go beyond the friendly shop owners slash neighbours slash sort of friends thing.
For all he knows, Alex is terminally straight.
And he hasn’t exactly flaunted his gayness in front of Alex, either. However, he hopes the pride flag prominently displayed behind the counter and the extensive collection of queer literature might have provided some not-so-subtle hints.
The following Monday, it is dahlias. Wednesday brings tulips. By Friday, Henry's eyes are perpetually red and puffy, his nose raw from constant tissue use. Still, he smiles through watery eyes each time Alex appears.
Alex frowns, noticing Henry's condition. "Henry, are you feeling ok, sweetheart? You look a bit under the weather."
Henry waves dismissively, trying to stifle a sneeze. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a bit of a cold, I think."
He can feel Bea’s eyes drilling a hole in his skull from behind the counter.
The moment Alex's retreating form disappears beyond the door, Bea materializes at Henry's side, her expression a perfect blend of exasperation and concern.
"How long do you intend to maintain this ridiculous charade?" she demands, her tone brooking no argument.
Henry's shoulders slump in defeat . “I have no idea,” he replies honestly. “As long as the antihistamines are doing their job?”
"Has it occurred to you to simply tell him the truth and ask him out? You know, like a functioning adult?"
Henry winces, the suggestion hitting a raw nerve. "It's been weeks, Bea. I'm terrified he'll be furious and stop visiting altogether. Besides, I've no clue if he's even remotely interested in me that way. If he were, surely he'd have made a move by now."
"Unless," Bea quips, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "he's every bit a bloody idiot as you are."
Henry shoots her a withering glare. “Thank you for your overwhelming support.”
Their bickering is interrupted by movement across the street. Henry's gaze is drawn to Alex's flower shop, where the man himself is visible through the window, arranging a vibrant display. As if sensing Henry's attention, Alex looks up, catching his eye and offering a warm, radiant smile and a cheerful wave.
Henry's heart performs an Olympic-worthy gymnastics routine in his chest, a besotted grin spreading across his face. He raises his hand to reciprocate the greeting, but the gesture is unceremoniously interrupted by a violent sneeze that nearly topples him. Regaining his balance, he emits a pitiful whine, a perfect blend of lovestruck adoration and allergy-induced misery.
Bea observes this display with a mix of fondness and sisterly irritation.
“Idiots,” she mutters as she goes back behind the counters. “Both of them.”
💐🌹🌺🌷
The bell above the door chimes as Alex enters, cradling an exquisite bouquet of pink carnations, primroses, and jonquils. (Henry didn’t have extensive knowledge about flowers, especially since they were mortal enemies, but since he met Alex, he might have done some research to have at least a basic understanding of them.)
The fragrance hits Henry like a tidal wave, and he feels a sudden twinge of panic.
Henry opens his mouth to speak, but his nose twitches violently. His eyes widen in alarm as he feels the telltale tickle building rapidly. Too rapidly.
"Alex, thank y-" Henry's words are cut short as an explosive sneeze erupts. He barely has time to cover his face before another follows and then another. His eyes begin to water and redden as the sneezing fit continues. Between gasps and sneezes, Henry manages to sputter out fragmented words.
"I'm sorry, Alex…Can you gi…give me one…minute?"
Alex's face contorts with worry, his brow furrowing deeply. He quickly sets the flowers aside and rushes to Henry's side, his hand hovering with uncertainty near Henry's shoulder.
"What's going on? I've never seen you like this. Are you still having this cold?" Alex's voice is thick with concern, his eyes searching Henry's face for answers.
Henry tries to reassure him, but it's futile; he can barely catch his breath. The sneezes keep coming, each one more forceful than the last. Alex's worry seems to intensify, his hands now fidgeting at his sides, unsure how to help.
Between two sneezes, Henry realizes it's time to come clean. He obviously can't keep going on like this. His sneezing fit finally subsides, and he looks at Alex, his eyes red and watery. "We need to talk," he tells him and judging by Alex's face – a mixture of confusion and apprehension – his tone was a bit too ominous.
With a shaky hand, Henry puts the 'closed' sign on the front door before leading Alex to the office in the back. Alex follows silently, his posture tense with unspoken questions.
"Can you wait here a moment? I'll be back shortly," Henry says, his voice hoarse.
Alex nods, his eyes never leaving Henry's face.
Henry washes his hands and blows his nose in the bathroom, using his nasal spray and eye drops. He stares at his reflection – red-nosed, puffy-eyed, and messy. He can't believe he's about to confess his crush to Alex looking like this . He supposes this is payback for having lied to that kind, generous, wonderful man all these weeks.
Taking a deep breath, Henry steels himself for the conversation ahead. It's time to face the music.
"Henry, what's going on?" Alex asks as soon as he's back, his voice laced with concern and a hint of impatience.
Henry sighs. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I haven't been honest with you. I... I'm allergic to flowers."
Alex frowns. "Which flowers?"
Henry winces, his voice barely above a whisper. "All of them?"
There's a moment of stunned silence, Alex's face a picture of disbelief. Then, he opens his mouth, his voice rising with each word. "What the fuck, Henry? What the actual fuck? Hen? I've been bringing you flowers for weeks?!?"
"I know, but the thing is..." Henry takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Your visits were the highlight of my day. And I love flowers, and it is worse with some than others, and as long as I stay at a respectable distance, it's alright. But I like you, Alex, a lot, and I can't keep hiding this from you. I'm terribly sorry for not telling you; it was a stupid thing to do."
"It was fucking stupid, yes," Alex agrees, and Henry's heart plummets. But then Alex continues, his tone softening, "Putting your health in danger like this. I thought you were going to sneeze your fucking brains out. You could have told me from the beginning, you know. I would have come by anyway. The flowers were just an excuse to come to your store."
Henry sniffles, a tiny sliver of hope rising in his chest. "They were?"
Alex suddenly looks rather nervous, a flush creeping up his neck. "Oh, Henry," he sighs, then pauses. "The first ones I brought were for aesthetic purposes, but... I chose these flowers specifically today. They have a meaning."
Henry blinks, his eyes darting to the flowers he can see through the office's open door. "They do?"
Alex nods, his voice tender. "Pink carnations for fascination, primroses for young love, and jonquils..." he takes a deep breath, "for desire for affection returned."
The room falls silent, save for Henry's sniffling. Then, a brilliant smile breaks across Henry's face. His heart swells with joy and relief, the discomfort of his allergies momentarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.
Alex takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving Henry's. There's a moment of hesitation, a silent question in his gaze. Henry, despite his puffy eyes and reddened nose, nods almost imperceptibly.
If Alex wants to kiss him while he looks like this…It really must be true love, right?
Alex cups Henry's face with gentle hands, his thumbs softly caressing his cheeks. He leans in slowly, giving Henry time to pull away if he wants to. As if Henry hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for weeks . So he closes the distance between them, his breath catching in his throat as Alex's lips finally meet his.
The kiss is soft, tender, and a little hesitant at first. Henry's lips are slightly chapped from his allergy attack, but Alex doesn't seem to mind. As they both relax into the kiss, it deepens, becoming more passionate.
Henry's hands find their way to Alex's waist, pulling him closer. He can feel the warmth of Alex's body, and smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering fragrance of flowers. It's intoxicating, and for a moment, Henry forgets about his allergies entirely.
His allergies haven’t forgotten about him, though. Henry pulls back abruptly, turning his head just in time to sneeze into his elbow. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles, mortified.
Alex, however, just laughs softly. "Don't be," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection. "It's kind of adorable, actually."
“Can I take you on a date?” Alex continues, his warm chocolate eyes full of hope.
Henry's heart skips a beat. "I would love that," he replies, a smile spreading across his face. "As long as it's not in a plant nursery."
Alex chuckles. "I'm sure there are other options." He glances at the flowers, then back at Henry. "In the meantime, I'll return the flowers to my store. I'll come by when I close, ok?" His expression turns thoughtful. "And I'll change my shirt," he adds with a knowing smile, causing Henry's heart to swell at his thoughtfulness.
From that moment on, Alex keeps coming back to the store, but always empty-handed. Until one day, Alex walks in, holding not a bouquet, but a small velvet box containing an engagement ring. His hands tremble slightly as he presents it to Henry, his eyes shining with love and anticipation.
(Funnily enough, Henry had one hidden in his office drawer, too, having planned his own proposal for weeks.)
And so, they lived happily ever after, their love story unfolding between the pages of books, away from petals and stems (at least for Henry), punctuated by the occasional sneeze, and sustained by a lifetime supply of antihistamines.