Work Text:
White roses. Silver Dollar Eucalyptus. Dusty Miller.
Wind Archer scaled the store, plucking the respective samples from their displays in small bunches as he sauntered towards the counter. It was 6 in the morning and the store was decently empty. A minimalistic beige wallpaper stood behind rows of wooden racks where plants were set comfortably in designated slots for their containers.
The season’s display was a central mix of full leaves and beautiful petals - the usual array for the prospecting couple swearing vows to each other over. Like Wind Archer expected, their plants were selling out fast.
Spring was truly a beautiful season, and many were scrambling for the newest blossoms for their tables or bouquets. He went back into the storage room, taking off rows of cardboard boxes marked with yesterday's date until he located “Roses”.
Wind Archer genuinely enjoyed this job. Being a florist, he lived to work and relished every moment he had packing bouquets and boxes of blooming petals. The quiet crinkle of the wrapping paper against his hands, the honeyed smell of pollen wafting through his shop with every imported box unloaded. He finished the final arrangement - a mix of pastel purples and oranges, emerald leaves and white filler foliage, which he tied nicely with white ribbon. Finally, he had a moment to sit back and relax until the opening of the shop.
No, I don’t.
It was 7:55. He had to open the shop. Straightening his uniform - an Oxford shirt pressed crisp and a pair of cargo pants lightly dusted with soil - and brushing off stray petals, Wind hurried to the control panel. He knocked the switches, toggling the lighting to that same hue that kept his store’s clean and tidy impression. Sign. Ceiling. Storeroom.
He pressed his fingers to his temples before turning back to approach the door and change the sign to “Open”.
🍃
Today was a busy day. With the already increasing popularity of his store alongside the employee shortage, his schedule was jam packed for the whole day. Through the constant flow of satisfied customers and ones that had nothing to do but argue over minor color changes, Wind Archer didn’t get to fit any meal in. Now the store was empty, all customers had gone home for the day to enjoy a nice dinner. The sky had darkened, turned a shade of aegean as the moon gradually appeared in the sky.
19:53. Close enough.
Wind Archer rotated the sign another 180 degrees and shut down the lights. He turned on the security code and had the key halfway into the lock, fingers trembling from fatigue on the small metal piece when-
“Hey!”
There, outside stood a man perched in front of his motorcycle, a figure illuminated by the flickering streetlight hanging above his head. Wind Archer watched as he removed the helmet, already in annoyance at the random person standing outside his store after hours. He was tall, tan skinned with flaming red locks and eyes of crimson and looked about Wind Archer’s age. A leather sports jacket hung loosely around his shoulders above a white singlet.
The moment he laid eyes on the florist, standing expectantly in front of his precious vehicle, he smirked, tossing the leather garment onto the padded seat.
“You work here?” He tilted his head down to face the slightly shorter Wind, the piercing on his lip trembling, a motion that made him scowl harder - he would be lying if he said the man wasn’t attractive. The man leaned against the bike, leaning towards Wind’s face with that condescending look of his.
“We’re closed. And you can’t park here.”
The red haired guy just laughed and gestured to the sign above their door. “Closing hours: 8pm. It’s 7:58.” Wind scowled, a curse milliseconds away from rolling off his tongue. The man in front of him really had the audacity to show up two minutes before closing time.
Professional, remember? “You have 2 minutes to state your name, business and contact details.” He wiped the irritated expression off his features before turning to face the smug man, who was now inches away from his face. If he does that to everyone, that piercing is a hazard.
“Cold, aren’t you? Name’s Fire Spirit. I’d like to place an order. Pick up tomorrow at 8?”
Wind was too tired to argue with the determined Fire Spirit. Maybe he did really just want flowers and got caught in traffic or whatever. Surely coming here dead late wasn’t intentional. “Contact details?”
“Asking for my number already, aren’t you?” The steely glare the florist sent him was probably more than enough to wilt the whole store of flowers, making Fire chuckle and immediately backpedal. “Okay, okay!”
He held out his hand, gesturing for Wind’s phone, which was handed to him in an attempt to finish business faster. Fire definitely noticed the lack of personal decor on his phone, in contrast to the customer’s own as an alloy of random charms and stickers lining the case. The two stood in the dim street behind the wailing of car horns and tires screeching, one furiously fumbling with the keyboard of a phone.
Fire handed the device back with a new number waiting in the Contacts app. “Here, call me up sometime?” He joked with shameless ease. “Send me your order.” The florist left, acerbic insult bordered from the arrogant customer by only his lips.
Jerk.
🍃
1 new message. Click to view…
Unknown Number: hey its fire so can i get this i cant tell what flowres are in it js sm like
Unknown Number: One Attachment sent. Click to view…
You: Okay. Delphiniums, Seafoam Roses, Silver Brunia with Eucalyptus branches and Dried Pampas grass. $165.
You saved this contact as “Fire Spirit”.
Fire Spirit: wow how do u tell 😭yea k ill pay you i pick up tmr gng my phone contracts getting cancelled soon
🍃
Over time, Wind had noticed Fire coming into the store regularly, every two to three days, always with a different order that would get more and more complex as if to challenge Wind. He never backed down. And Fire would always tip generously (in money and in joking pick-up lines. That day, Fire Spirit marched into the store asking for a whole “fantasy dreamworld” theme bouquet for his younger sibling’s party.
“I’ll tip you double if they like it as much as I like you.” He smirked, angling his face towards Wind Archer’s, who gave a cold confirmation and brought out catalogues of options to use at the event. Their interactions usually went like that - full of a sarcastically flirtatious and half serious Fire Spirit and Wind Archer, choosing to ignore every strange jab he threw at him, accepting the red haired man as one of those customers. Every one of his failed attempts only made the next more amusing, although he would never admit it. And so the strange cycle of orders continued over the next month as both learned more about each other, yet kept it the way it always was.
🍃
Wind Archer leaned across the counter at 6:47pm as usual, rubbing his dark circles with the tips of his index fingers. The sun was setting, casting a faded glow along the displays, bringing some ethereal glow onto the store’s expanse of flowers. This was the hour where even the last customers started to filter out and pick final arrangements for their events, always the specific species of flower in some exact hex code.
Rules were easy to follow, there was some sort of restrained peace in having something already planned out, only needing you to act - at least to Wind. He picked up his phone from the counter, watching the screen light up and buzz with some notification.
NOTIFICATIONS
6:55 Finish bouquet 47
7:10 Deliver 45 to Town Square
Crap.
Wind Archer buried his head in his hand in panic. He had forgotten an important request Caramel Choux had for him - deliver flowers needed for the newest store’s grand opening. The boxes of bouquets were still yet to be delivered, sitting in the storage room, filled with youth and radiance. The store needed to set up flowers in exactly 23 minutes and had a massive line of customers waiting to enter the new facility. It took 35 minutes to get there by foot. He paced the store, polished leather tapping against polished timber floorboards in deep rooted panic. The nearest bus stop was 5 minutes away but had services every half hour.
He was royally and respectfully screwed.
The loud whirring of an engine blared from outside the shop, wheels scraping against the concrete of the block. Wind Archer peeked outside to find the biker - Fire Spirit - locking his motorcycle and heading towards the store in a short sleeved jacket and T-shirt. Wind snapped back to the present, pulling the ordered bouquet off the glass shelves behind him and placing it in a patterned, cardboard cylinder. He waited for the motorcyclist to enter the store, pushing the arrangement at him hurriedly, already looking for his bus pass.
“Damn, not even a greeting?” He joked, trademark grin resting upon his face as he picked up the flowers with muscular arms. “I have an order to deliver and I’m running late.” Wind muttered, not looking up from the insides of his organised drawers. He picked up the card, only to recall he had used the last bit of money in the card from a different delivery. This employee shortage problem of the store had to be fixed - Wind had only opened shop 8 months ago and was too busy to start hiring. As he shut the drawer, he felt something slide across the marble surface and hit his arm. Wind looked up to find Fire’s helmet sitting in front of him on the opposite side counter. “What is it now?”
“Put it on. I’ll drive you.”
“What? You can’t be seriou-”
“Dead serious, I have a spare. Where you heading?” He picked up the loads of boxes labelled “7:10pm” and began carrying them back before Wind could protest.
“I-”
Wind was too done with the situation to argue. After all, he calculated that via car, the journey would take only 13 minutes. Motorcycles would take at least 5 longer- “Town Square.”
No time for this. Just-
Wind slipped on the helmet, feeling it slide over his head as he pulled the visor down from above. The inside was padded and had the smoky scent of burning wood and cinnamon, something decent to endure when in dire need of a ride. He locked the store, then followed Fire Spirit outside to his vehicle, which only now did he notice was of an expensive-looking metallic ruby, each orange pattern intricately drawn- Focus.
Wind mounted the motorcycle while Fire was placing the bouquet into the bike’s top box, using ratchet straps to tie the extra boxes down. He retrieved a pair of gloves from the same compartment and hopped in front of the florist, who was consistently checking his watch as seconds ticked by. The ignition key slotted into the bike as Fire pulled the clutch lever and started the engine.
“Hold onto my waist.” Fire called, twisting his hands against the handlebars as the machine prepared for takeoff. Wind hesitated, before putting customer needs in front of his pride and gripped onto Fire Spirit’s waist, which was surprisingly cinched.
Fire shifted the bike into first gear and gradually released it, regaining balance on the motorcycle as it sped out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. The two stayed silent for the ride, Fire (likely) focused on the road and Wind’s face growing increasingly red the longer he held on, unintentionally inhaling the other man’s scent through the borrowed equipment. It was near the last intersection that he made a sharp turn due to some imbecilic driver, him holding onto the driver’s waist as tight as he could as the other passengers screeched in road rage. “You didn’t… break the law right?”
“Ow- not that tight- yeah, that was legal.”
Wind released him in embarrassment, murmuring a stuttered apology. His face was practically burning up as they pulled into the parking lot with 2 minutes to spare. Wind hopped off the side of the bike, throwing his helmet back at the cyclist while he scanned the area for a parking spot. He picked up the straps, Fire Spirit watching from his seat, and loosened them while opening the top box to take out his cargo. Wind practically ran at the speed of light towards the new store, fortunately close to where Fire had dropped him off.
Wind dashed, shoes practically falling off his feet as he sprinted towards the parade of balloons and prospecting buyers. The owner almost fell off her chair in surprise and relief that the flowers were intact and had arrived on time, thanking the florist profusely with a large tip, forcefully shoved into his hands in the form of a stack of 10 dollar notes. Wind almost fainted at the generous tip, but bowed his head in gratitude and prepared to depart.
“Flowers done?”
Wind turned around to see Fire standing behind him.He let himself smile subtly around Fire Spirit and nodded gratefully, which stunned the biker into temporary silence. “Thanks for the ride, you really saved me back there.”
“Anytime. Before I take you back to the store, can we go somewhere?” Wind hesitated, then remembered his store was safely secured for the night and that he now had all the time until morning. “Sure.”
🍃
For the second time that evening, Wind gripped onto Fire, back in that helmet of smoked wood and cinnamon while Fire travelled through his self proclaimed “shortcut”. The route in question involved dangerous stunts of leaps and riding over unconventional mountain pathways that could break his tires at any second. Despite Wind’s protests, Fire upped the stunts, traversing dangerous plains with a hit of the accelerator.
Somehow through all of it, Wind felt something warm, as if an endless kaleidoscope of butterflies resided in the pits of his gut, flourishing in the season of spring. A swirl of colours drifting through the air, delicate wings catching light like scattered petals, dancing between each other, making an artwork like tiny patches of paint on a canvas. This feeling was new, and it definitely wasn’t the anticipation of possibly crashing and dying right on the mountain.
After 20 or so minutes of Fire’s cackling and daredevil tricks, they reached the top of the mountain. As Wind Archer and Fire Spirit remove their helmets, getting off the vehicle, Wind catches his breath at the scenery. The world below seemed to slow, unfurling into a panorama of blinking city lights against the darkness and silhouettes of trees. Roads thread between the blocks like veins, pulsing with distant movement of cars shifting through. An indefinite horizon is behind it all, midnight blue meeting ebony, gray clouds drifting over the earth. A breathtaking scene, to Wind Archer, as they sit under the pale moonlight on the peak, jutting into the sky like the prow of a great stone ship.
The cold bit at his skin as he turned to look at his customer, the man who had caused and saved him a dilemma and in turn, got closer to him through it. Strange how the world worked. Fire’s vermillion locks pushed at each other with the soft evening zephyr, a gentle lullaby of hues of red, deep eyes blinking at and reflecting a world of stars above. Truly not something Wind expected from the rowdy, laid back impression of Fire Spirit. “Do you… come here often?”
Fire nodded, eyes still fixed on the endless night sky. “Yeah. More or less of a comfort spot.”
Wind blinked briefly in understanding as Fire closed his eyes, crisp air blowing at his skin.
“The moon looks beautiful tonight.” Fire breathed, a hushed sound that echoed in the quiet of the night, away from the city. Just the two of them, side by side, with little but so much to say. Wind let out a noncommittal sound before Fire rested his hand on his shoulder.
Being at such close proximity under circumstances like these should have made him twitch with humiliation and disgust, but something about Fire Spirit’s presence released the locked shackles of all his worries. He turned his head to look at the other man. Fire truly is beautiful. Wind Archer shook his head immediately at the thought, even as the denial was washed away by the crimson tones in his customer’s (friend’s?) eyes.
Their faces were inches away. Wind could feel Fire Spirits breath lingering, inhaling the aroma of cinnamon and mint candy. He felt the cool, hard metal of Fire’s forsaken lip piercing resting above his lip. Fire looked him in the eye, a soft gaze that truly unveiled the unfaltering feelings he had. Upon realization, Fire quickly pulled his head back, face flushed and refusing to meet Wind’s eyes again. “Sorry, are you comfortable with-“
Wind didn’t answer as Fire trailed off, pretending not to hear the man’s mumbling. He just stared at him and took Fire Spirit’s hand in his own. It was definitely a bold move, especially for Wind, but as their fingers intertwined, he felt nothing but happiness for the hours they spent together.
🍃
When Wind was dropped off at his apartment complex that night, he had hugged Fire Spirit goodnight, gesture leaving Wind Archer trailing into his unit as a red mess, holding his face as if about to rip it off. The florist sank down onto his bed, all the missing feelings from those stolen moments of joy hitting him at once. For the first time, he felt truly joyous in Fire Spirit’s presence. As he lay down, something plastic hit his back wrist. He raised a tired arm to see Fire had left him with a bracelet. A string was tied on his wrist, holding an array of red flower beads interlocking with small orange spheres. He practically scoffed at what his friend (?) had left for him and retired for the night in good spirits.
🍃
Fire Spirit didn’t come back the next day, nor the day after or the next. Not that Wind wore his bracelet. Not that he had cared. Definitely not. Wind Archer had fixed the employee shortage, the shop successfully hiring a worker in such short notice. This gave him more time to complete paperwork meaning more… resting time, a strange form of joy brought upon him. A long time ago, Fire had asked him: “Have you ever, you know, wanted to sit back, relax, and have fun?” Wind had contemplated that question, but Fire never came back to the store to give his answer.
That evening, as Wind packed up the store and waved the employees goodbye, he found something unexpected. A white paper box that didn’t match his coordinated set-up inside his drawer. Trembling fingers poked at it, removing the lid, expecting some sort of strange contraption (probably to blow up the store). Instead, he found a note scrawled on A4 paper, folded to fit the minuscule space. Wind picked it up, shutting the drawer as he paused to take in the message.
Windy.
If you do get this, I’ve moved away to some city across the country. I did try to write this in advance in case I successfully secured that job offer. Although I’ve known this since we met, I didn’t have the heart to tell you and frankly, I didn’t think you’d care. I hope you care enough to finish reading this to the end.
Ever since we met I admired you and your tenacious (is that how I use the word) pursuit for your career and shop. The professionalism in you is something I could never have but thought I could be one to crack, and I wanted to be your friend. It’s tragic how many of those “attempts” got turned down, and yes, they were partially serious. I’m honestly glad that unfortunate situation fell upon you because it brought us closer (I’m sorry if that sounds brash or stupid).
If you were ever wondering, I truly have feelings for you and I wish I had taken that risk to know how you feel about me. I doubt I’ll ever know now, but I’ll hope our paths cross again. Goodbye.
Fire Spirit
Wind slumped down, cursing under his breath as he leaned against the counter. His breaths hitched, raspy and heavy, as he sobbed. Ugly cries escaped his throat, sound raw and unfiltered as all of his pent up emotions were released all at once. He cried, hand pressed against his mouth, holding his face and catching tears until the azure horizon faded into a palette of pastel rainbow, then a dark blue. The sun had already set by the time he was smudging tissues all over his face. The acerbic taste of tears still lined his tongue, the weight of this goodbye heavier than any emotional burden he’d encountered over his life.
His eyes were red and puffy as he locked the store that night, heading home in nothing but the quiet of the late hours and the echoing of Fire Spirit’s jovial laugh reverberating in his head.
🍃
When the sun set, Wind Archer would adjust his store to a warmer, orange hue as an illusion to bring warmth. It was something trivial, just a new habit that he had adopted over the weeks, like dusting the shelves every few days or beginning to grow plants outside of work. He found that his spring onions and sweet potatoes were growing at a moderate pace, enough to provide bearings before the end of the season, a quiet ritual that made his life feel softer, like the lingering scent of peonies in the shop. Wind watched as his employees’ shift hours ended, nodding them goodbye as they hurried with barely packed bags, a train ticket, and a whole night left to themselves. Starlight protruded in through the glass windows, dimming the store’s natural glow as he scrawled in beautifully neat print across pieces of paper.
And there was a sound. The faint rumble that had become a familiar visitor, the small creak of the door humming through the stillness. Wind barely glanced up, ready to dismiss the new shopper. He signed the last page of a new page of business documents as the footsteps of boots echoed through the quiet of the store. The door chime rang as a familiar figure walked through the entrance.
“We’re closed.” He muttered halfheartedly, eyes still zoned on the pages of work he had left until he could stumble through his apartment’s doors and lie down as if tomorrow wouldn’t be of the same sequence.
“Hasn’t changed much here, has it?”
Wind paused, pen mid scrawl as he slowly turned to look at the newcomer. Same blazing hair, same eyes lit up with uncontainable excitement and same arrogant grin.
“Fire…”
The man slowly made his way to the counter, locking eyes with the stunned florist. “How… what-” He stuttered, pink flush returning to his face like the petals of a dianthus mounted on the sides of his store. Fire grinned. Gestured to a set of plane tickets pulled from his pocket. “Flew back in to find you.”
Wind hesitated as if all time stopped while he struggled to process what was going on. “To… find me?” Fire put weight on the counter, tipping his face forward at the still working business owner. “Yes. Do I need to repeat that?”
Wind finally set down his pen, mirroring Fire’s smile with a subdued grace and pushing away the documents in front of him. “Maybe this time you can stop hiding away until you leave..” Fire shuffled sheepishly, the expression on his visage explaining it all. “I won’t, not again. I got a job back here again.”
“For real?”
”If you want it to be.”
”I… really fucking hate you and love you at the same time.”
Wind nodded as Fire chuckled, leaning down to meet Wind’s lips. “I love you too, and I won’t let go of you again.”