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The little bell chimes when the door opens, signaling a customer has entered the shop. The air is cold inside, which, to Piers, is refreshing as the summer heat is beginning to rise. He's greeted to a colorful and wide variety of flowers upon entry. There's the low hum of the air conditioner working, but aside from that, this flower shop is quiet. It's nice, cozy, chill.
"Piers!" The florist, Milo, calls out his name from the register. The man sets down a vase with roses on the counter. "I thought you were busy today?"
"Was," Piers answers as he steps toward the counter. His gaze travels from the muscular florist to his latest display. "Had time to drop by. Wouldn't want to hear ya cryin' about the lack of company tomorrow."
"Aw, you know I appreciate you being here," Milo replies with a bright smile. "But, if you're busy, you don't have to drop by."
"Nah. This place is a nice getaway. So, I don't mind the visit."
Piers is used to noise and restless energy, not this peaceful environment. Even if he doesn't seem to match such chaotic energy with his nonchalant attitude, it's what he's used to. He's been around it his whole life. And while he doesn't hate it, every now and then he does like to escape from it.
Milo's flower shop is the perfect place for it. No one from Spikemuth would ever think he'd stop to chill in a place like this. Not many from his hometown ever travelled out here anyway. There would be no wandering eyes and no worries about being pointed out by those he knows. Not that he really cared, but the less yelling he had to deal with, the better.
Besides, the company here is pleasant. Milo's always been a welcoming man. Ever since they met, he's been one to offer him a peaceful respite, even during his busiest hours, too. It's a kind offer, too kind in his eyes. Yet, he can't find it in him to ever stop coming here.
To outsiders, it may seem dull to chat about the small things. Piers has never been one for small talk either, but he finds it easier to handle around Milo. Mundane things seem more interesting when coming from the florist. He enjoys listening to the tales from Milo's life and the stories he weaves together.
"Hey, you know a lot about music, right?" Milo asks while adjusting his display near the window.
"Hm? Yeah. Why?"
"Have you heard of Nezu before?"
Piers nearly chokes on air. He's glad that he doesn't have a drink in hand, or else he would struggle swallowing it down. He just hopes that Milo didn't hear the strange noise that came from his throat.
"Can't say that I have..."
"Hmm." Milo keeps his focus on the flowers, adjusting them so the sunlight can reach those set in the front. "You know, I think you'd like his music."
"...Why'd you think that?"
"Well, you like a lot of punk and rock, right? That's what Nezu is known for. Although his latest songs aren't as...loud as the others?" Milo huffs a little, finding trouble with how to explain it.
He's never been one to delve into music and study it. Normally, he would just be happy with whatever is on the radio while he works. So, it's surprising to Piers to see him try to tackle the subject.
"Yeah? So...a shift in genre?"
"I guess so?" Milo shrugs as he heads back to the counter with Piers at his side. "I probably sound dumb trying to explain it, but...his songs sound more heartfelt. Not that his earlier ones aren't, but these new songs have more emotion in them."
It's such an honest answer from Milo. Even if he struggles to explain it, Piers gets it. More than he would like to admit.
"Don't worry, ya don't sound dumb," Piers reassures him as he leans against the counter. "Some artists try out different genres. How'd you find'em anyway? No offense, but I thought our taste in music clashed."
"Haha, I guess it's surprising, huh?" Milo chuckles. "My little brother actually recommended him to me. I admit I didn't like it too much at first, but...the music grew on me."
Piers stares at Milo, his foot tapping against the floor. He knows he shouldn't feel giddy over hearing this, but he can't help it. Something about Milo listening to his music and actually liking it makes him happy.
Nezu was never meant to be popular, at least Piers would have liked to keep it that way. He likes singing and enjoys songwriting, but having adoring fans come his way would be a headache to deal with. So, he preferred to remain anonymous. His sister knew, of course, and so did the owner of the pub that let him do live gigs, but that was about it. Some locals speculated them sounding similar, but as long as there was no definite proof, he could get away with not being called Nezu.
And now, Milo, someone who was never into the alternative genre, was listening to his music. The music were he lets himself go, doesn't hold back, and lets everything out. Whether a song lands or not, he doesn't care; he just wants to get his feelings out. Including the more romantic ones. If Milo could see it starting to reflect in his music, he feared that he would be caught soon. But he couldn't just stop, not when his songs were the only way he could get his hidden feelings out.
"You really like his music?"
"Yeah, I do," Milo answers with a nod. "I know he doesn't perform, but if he ever did, I think I'd like to go to a concert."
"I'd get ya tickets." Piers pauses, realizing he may have said that too quickly. "I mean, if he ever did hold one."
"You're a good pal, Piers."
Piers smiles slightly, but it doesn't last. He has to remember that they're just friends. It's best to keep his feelings bottled up and saved for music. At least a song wouldn't reject him.
"Ah, best be going. Don't wana keep you busy all day."
"You know you're welcome to stay as long as you like. But before you go..."
Milo disappears into the back. Piers waits patiently for him to return. His mind is still wrapping around this latest information. He doesn't have much time to deal with it as the florist returns with a small bouquet in hand.
"For you and your sister."
"I swear you're makin' my home into a second shop at this rate," Piers sighs, yet despite the complaint, he accepts the bouquet. "You sure just giving me flowers all the time is okay? I don't mind pitchin' in for them."
"Don't worry about it. I know you'll take care of them. Besides, you can always treat me to lunch if you're that worried about it."
Milo looks at the bouquet in Piers's hand. His eyes light up for a moment, an idea sparking. He takes a rose from the many on display at the counter and places it into the bouquet.
"Really?"
"It adds the final touch!" Milo says with a proud smile. "Say hello to Marnie for me."
"Yeah, yeah, I will."
Piers looks down at the bouquet with the rose sticking out. He adjusts it so it's surrounded by the other flowers. Even he has to admit that one flower can make a difference, but he's not going to say that aloud.
"See ya tomorrow," Piers says as he walks out, holding the flowers against his chest.
He hears Milo say his own goodbye right before the door closes behind him. He knows that he can't linger around here any longer and starts to make his way back home.
His tired gaze shifts to the flowers as he walks. A rose is new. He's never given him one before, despite always shoving flowers into his hand. Still, he doubts it means anything. Maybe it's just a florist's eye for making a bouquet better.
"He could do better anyway..." Piers sighs to himself, keeping his voice low so no one hears him. "Doesn't need to know those songs are about him..." It sends a shiver down his spine thinking about it. Milo likes his songs, but if he knew the truth about them? Piers wouldn't be able to live it down.
It's best not to think about it for now. He's going to enjoy what they have and keep singing about what he wishes they could be.