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Boosfer stood in the middle of his messy apartment, staring at the bunch of purple flowers on his kitchen counter. He felt like an idiot. He had spent an hour at the market earlier, circling the flower stalls and feeling increasingly out of place. He’d looked at roses first, but they felt too heavy, too serious, and way too cliché for a guy like Wemmbu.
He wanted something that actually made sense. Wemmbu lived on Allium Road and ran a shop called "The Allium," so the choice seemed obvious, but now Boosfer was second-guessing everything. Alliums were just... purple. That was the only connection. They were round, fluffy, and a bit weird—kind of like Wemmbu, he realized—but would Wemmbu actually want a gift that grew right outside his own front door? It was like giving a baker a loaf of bread.
"He’s going to think I’m lazy," Boosfer muttered, his anxiety spiking. "He literally grows these for a living. Why would he want more?"
He checked his watch and his heart dropped. He was already twenty minutes late for their planned hangout. They hadn't called it a date, but the "dinner and a walk" invitation had felt heavy with unspoken meaning.
Boosfer scrambled. He grabbed the picnic basket he’d spent all afternoon packing—filled with sandwiches, fruit, and the expensive cheese he knew Wemmbu liked—and snatched the bouquet. In his rush to get out the door, he fumbled with his keys, gave up, and just slammed the door shut behind him, leaving it unlocked. He didn't have time to care.
The run to Allium Road felt longer than usual. By the time he reached the boutique, the streetlights were flickering on. The shop window was dark, the "Open" sign had been flipped to "Closed," and the interior lights were completely shut off.
Boosfer stopped dead, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The street was quiet. He felt a wave of genuine guilt wash over him. He had kept Wemmbu waiting, and now he had missed him. He stood on the sidewalk, shifting his weight from foot to foot, hiding the purple flowers behind his back as if the darkness would somehow see them and judge him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should just leave the basket on the doorstep and go home.
"Are those flowers for me?"
The voice came from right behind him. Boosfer jumped, nearly dropping the picnic basket. He spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.
Wemmbu was standing there, leaning against the brick wall of the shop. He was wearing a light jacket, looking like he’d been waiting in the shadows for a while. He wasn't even mad; he just looked curious, with that small, lop-sided grin that always made Boosfer’s brain short-circuit.
The panic, the lateness, and the hours of staying up for this. Boosfer didn't say hello. He didn't apologize for being late. Instead, his face turned a deep, hot red, and he thrust the bouquet forward with both hands, shoving the purple puffballs directly into Wemmbu’s face.
"Please be my boyfriend!" he yelled, his voice cracking just a little.
Wemmbu blinked, his nose buried in the petals, and for a second, the street was completely silent.
Wemmbu didn’t move for a long five seconds. He stood there with the oversized purple alliums pressed against his nose, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly. The silence was so heavy that Boosfer could hear the faint hum of the street lamp above them and the distant sound of a car driving a few blocks away. Boosfer’s arms were shaking, his grip on the flower stems so tight he was worried he might snap them. He felt like his face was on fire, the heat radiating all the way to the tips of his ears.
Slowly, Wemmbu reached up and took the bouquet. He didn't pull it away completely; he just lowered it enough so he could look Boosfer in the eye. His hair was slightly messy from the wind, and he looked smaller than usual in his oversized jacket, but his expression wasn't one of confusion anymore. It was a look of pure, genuine surprise that slowly melted into a grin.
"You're late," Wemmbu said softly. His voice wasn't angry; it was teasing, vibrating with a little bit of a laugh.
"I know," Boosfer managed to choke out. "I'm sorry. I—the flowers—the shop was closed and I thought I blew it."
Wemmbu looked down at the alliums. He reached out a finger and poked one of the fluffy purple spheres, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Boosfer, I literally grow these in the back of the shop. I have about three hundred of these in the greenhouse right now."
"I know!" Boosfer groaned, finally dropping his arms to his sides. "I thought they were cliche! Then I thought they were too obvious! Then I realized they just... they reminded me of you. Because they're weird and purple. I'm an idiot."
Wemmbu stepped closer, closing the small gap between them on the sidewalk. He tucked the bouquet under one arm and used his free hand to grab the edge of Boosfer’s hoodie, pulling him slightly forward. The teasing look faded, replaced by something much softer.
"You're definitely a lovable idiot," Wemmbu whispered. "And yeah, I'll be your boyfriend. But only if those sandwiches in the basket don't have crusts."
Boosfer felt a massive weight lift off his chest, his heart doing a frantic little skip. He let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since he left his apartment. "They don't. I cut them off. I remember."
Wemmbu’s smile widened, and he leaned his head against Boosfer’s shoulder for a brief second before pulling back. "Good. Then let's go eat before you vibrate out of your shoes from nerves."
As they started walking toward the park at the end of Allium Road, Wemmbu reached out and laced his fingers through Boosfer’s. Boosfer’s hand was sweaty and his heart was still racing, but as he looked down at their joined hands and the ridiculous purple bouquet Wemmbu was clutching like a prize, he realized he hadn't messed up after all.
"Wait," Boosfer said, stopping mid-stride as a sudden realization hit him. "I definitely left my front door wide open."
Wemmbu laughed, a bright, loud sound that echoed off the quiet street. "We’ll deal with your robbed apartment later. Right now, I want my sandwich."