Chapter Text
Sunflower - Post Malone & Swae Lee
[pov: James]
When James had text Will asking if he wanted to meet up for a quick coffee on a sunny Sunday afternoon as he was already in the city, he hadn't expected to receive directions to a random street market in his texts. And he certainly hadn't expected to arrive and find the view filled with greenery, stalls lined with tiny pots brimming with succulents and flowers and shoots, meant to be taken home and nurtured, planted and grown until they bear fruit. And he definitely didn't expect to find Will on the street corner huffing and red faced as he glared at a giant plant pot at his feet, clearly only just put down so he could catch his breath.
The plant pot isn't empty, far from it; the soil is visibly dark and damp and from the centre sprouts a single thick stalk, leaves bursting from it large enough to hide his hands from view - and almost at the same height as Will, the beginning of bright yellow petals just starting to bloom, still curled into the centre disk. He's looking at the plant pot like it's offended him, with his hands on his hips and lips pursed condescendingly.
James walks closer and has to chuckle at how bitchy the other man looks right now, with his black quarter-zip, blue jeans and white trainers; he looks like every middle class mother he's ever seen attempting to gentle-parent their kid after they did something utterly heinous. “What the fuck are you doing, Will?”
Will's head jolts upwards with an illuminated smile, eyes creasing with its severity, the early afternoon sun casting delicate shadows of his curls across his sweat-laced forehead. “Ay, there's my big strong man. Help me carry this bastard back to mine.” He gestures towards the pot at his feet with his thumb before his hand returns to his hip.
James stops in his tracks and looks at the pot. It's a big, ceramic… thing, with a crackled blue and white glaze that reflects the sun. The pot itself looks heavy enough, without including the packed dirt inside, and the sunflower emerging from it. “Wait - is that why you made me meet you here?”
“Nah. Well.” Will grins incriminatingly as he shrugs. “Only a little.”
“You’re taking the piss, I'm gonna get dirt on my jacket.”
Will rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, scoffing as he bends and plants his palm around one side of the rim of the pot, fingers grasping underneath. “No you won't, you big baby. Come on, grab that side, don't be such a diva.” Will looks at him and waits for him to reach for the other side, but James just stares for a moment to process that yes, he is asking him to carry a massive plant pot twenty minutes down the street. And James is, in fact, going to do it.
He sighs heavily with clear distaste before swinging his backpack off and dropping it to the ground, shrugging his coat off and balling it up to shove inside his bag.
Will stands up and his hands return to his hips with an unbearably self-satisfied grin. “Yeah, get your kit off, that'll help us.”
“Shut the fuck up if you want any of my help at all.” He shoves his backpack back on, now left in a plain white t-shirt that is definitely going to get streaks of dirt all over it - but at least his nice coat will be safe from mud. And at least the sun is out today. James huffs and squats down next to the pot, grasping the rim tightly in his right hand. “Okay. Lift with your legs, not your back.”
“Alright alright, let's do this.”
James scoffs as they walk in time down the street, the large pot carried between them. “Can’t believe you've got me carrying your fucking plants down the road.”
“Ooh, are you too much of an artist to do a bit of manual labour?”
“For you, yes.”
“Now that's just rude.”
“What would you have done if I hadn't text?”
“Probably wouldn't have bought it.”
“You're such a twat.” Will giggles at him through still panting breath, red face and flustered with the heated afternoon sun bearing down on them, for once barely a cloud in sight.
The heavy weight on one arm is straining at his bicep, twisting his spine unnaturally to stoop down to his right side, and his hip feels like it's about to violently pop out of its socket. His personal trainer will kill him if he injures himself, and he'll kill Will for buying a stupidly heavy plant without thinking about any logistics of how to get it home - like bringing his fucking car to the adorable market full of flowers he apparently frequents. “Wait, put it down a second, this isn’t working.”
“We've only gone down one street, it'll take us three fucking hours to get home.”
“Well stop buying big fucking plants and expecting me to help!” James groans as he gestures with his head to a nearby lamppost, and they both swerve to the edge of the pavement and carefully deposit the plant before he stands.
Will scratches at his cheek and stares at the dirt. “I didn't think it'd be this heavy.”
“Will, it’s a massive fucking sunflower.”
“Yeah, well, it looked nice. Thought it would look alright on the balcony.”
James can only stare at him, barely trying to hide his guilty expression.
“What?”
“Move.” James shakes his head at the ridiculous man, takes his backpack off and thrusts it at Will before he squats and wraps his arms around the width of the pot. He has enough leverage to be able to grab and lock onto his own wrist, and he scoffs at the situation he’s found himself in on a Sunday afternoon because of the idiot panting next to him. He exhales as he stands, biceps and thighs straining with the lift until he's finally upright and cautiously stepping forward.
“Damn, go on Marriott, show ‘em what you're made of.” Will chuckles, somewhere between impressed and disbelief - with a blatant underlying glee of getting to live out his apparent dreams of being doted on like a fucking princess.
“Fuck off.” The sunflower is tilting with his motions, its petals swaying in the sun as he looks upwards towards them. The pressure on his spine and hips eases slightly with the distributed weight, and he resigns himself to carrying the damn thing the whole way to Will's. “Thank god you've got a fucking lift in your building.”
James steps forward, a leaf caresses his hair and mud smudges on his white t-shirt, and all he can hear is Will giggling behind him.
James' exhale is flustered and strained as they turn the corner onto Will's street. “Get your damn keys out now.”
“I've got ‘em, don't worry, I’ve got ‘em.” He can hear the jingling of metal on metal between pale fingers.
His gait speeds up as the paradise of not holding a big fucking plant is in his sights with the arrival Will's front door into his vision. “You can walk back and get them this time if you haven’t, I’m not fucking doing it.”
Will laughs, throwing his head backwards towards the sun. “Was this worse than the whiteboard?”
“Yes.” He might hit him when they're upstairs.
Will unlocks his front door rapidly, holding it open as James stumbles through and beelines towards the lift, shoving his elbow against the button and barging his way inside. He can't do anything except close his eyes and as the lift rises up the floors, his arms burning with the sun's heat and the weight pulling aggressively on his skin; only pure determination and the perpetual grin on the other man’s face is keeping him from dropping the pot so it shatters against chrome. A few extended and agonising seconds and the lift doors reopen, Will rushing forward to unlock his flat and they amble through another doorway, and yet another and another as he chases Will through the apartment until he reaches the familiar balcony, and he's finally able to loosen his grip on the ceramic and ease it to the ground.
James stands and his lungs heave and burn, sweat dripping steadily down his forehead, and his hands fall to his hips as he stretches his spine. A few errant pops of cartilage here and there, but not completely crumbled into dust. “Never make me do that again.”
“Sorry lad.” Will pats him on the shoulder with his own satisfied smile. “Thank you though, I was right, it does look nice there.” James pierces him with the most sincere and exasperated glare he can muster through the waves of fatigue, and Will coyly grins as he shrinks away. “I'll get you a drink, hang about.”
Will disappears into his flat for a minute as James catches his breath, attempting to swipe away streaks of dirt from his arms and his shirt as he glances at the tall plant. Despite the irritation of the task itself, there is a warming pride that lies sweetly in his gut from achieving the goal; a few years ago he would have had no chance of coming to Will's aid for something like this, as stupid as it is.
He takes a second to return to himself, and he looks at the budding sunflower. It's pretty. Shorter than them both, but still stands proud in its own right.
Somewhere inside, he finds a kinship with the flower. Tall enough to interrupt someone's eyeline, leaves spreading wide and unavoidable, demanding to be walked around, not brushed past. Petals bright and vibrant, begging to be seen and admired by the warmth of the sun's rays even as its roots are trapped in its ceramic cage. The stalk dense and strong, a perfect foundation ready to overcome the harshest weather and still bloom on the other side when the sun returns once more.
It’s been a long and arduous journey for them both the last few years, the loss of family and friends and lovers taking its toll, with the gravel of work and projects on top attempting to hinder their growth. But they have made it to this point, despite everything. Right about to bloom.
He wonders if Will would feel the same camaraderie with the sunflower. Maybe that's why he bought it. God knows there are so many other yellow flowers he could have chosen for his balcony and his apparent green-fingered hobbies that didn't threaten to pull his shoulders out of their sockets.
Will returns with a speedily passed over glass and James gulps the water down to soothe his dry mouth, returning his gaze to the unbloomed flower. “It will look good there, I’ll give you that much.”
Will is smiling, a soft quirk at the corner of his lips. “You know when they open, they turn towards the sun?”
“Bit like you, then.” James grins at his terrible joke, just trying to bait Will into a reaction despite not hearing the last minute of his internal monologue. They'd both be sunflowers, the sun is the future, and with companies and content, they're going to grow towards it together - even if their paths are separate. James is excited to see what happens when they blossom.
“What?” Will turns towards him and immediately realises what James meant, his understanding spreading across his face. “Oh.” He expects him to sigh, or roll his eyes, or scoff and berate him for being a twat - but he doesn’t. Will chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his face back towards the budding sunflower. “Yeah, suppose so.”
That was an… interesting response. It catches James off guard, no biting comment comes to his mind to be made in return as Will's delicate smile shrinks into something more resigned, and his head drops into his chest to look to the floor. He chuckles to himself, almost dejectedly, before he groans and gestures back inside his home with a nod. “Coffee?”
His exhaustion and any impeding thoughts give way to relief. “Fuck, I'd love one. Ice?”
“Of course.”