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Winwin always liked beautiful things. Since he was young, he used to chase beauty in all of its different sizes and shapes. He loved the sakura trees and clouds in the sky and the smile that grows on his mother’s face right before her fingers brush his hair as she tells him she’s proud of him. He loved seeing the joy on a winner’s face and that look that clearly says ‘I’ll try harder’ on a loser’s face.
Slowly more beautiful things came to him as he grew, and during one particularly lucky day, Winwin found a beautiful thing he wanted to keep, traditional dancing. The first time he saw the dance was when a woman lead it, her hair and hands carry the same grace as she seemed to almost float across the floor, Winwin felt enchanted by her. Of course he was a man, and he still remembers how much it hurt when he realized it was probably not a beauty he can take for himself.
It took another year before he encountered it again, and this time it was just right. He watched as a man – with defined muscles and a much stronger ability then the woman he saw before – carried out the same style of dance with the same grace as the woman.
Winwin knew right at that moment, that this beauty was his to have.
He worked hard at finding a studio that would teach him just the type of dance he wanted to, and worked even harder on perfecting it. Luckily for him he was always flexible, so that part took less time as moving slowly and precisely enough to become the grace he saw twice before. His teacher was the best teacher he could ever ask for, an aging man whose eyes seen more of the beauty of the world then Winwin’s did, and he wanted to show him.
Not long passed before competitions were around the corner, exams to test how beautiful Winwin has become. His teacher’s hand held a comforting warmth spot on his shoulder as he watched his rivals perform, each beautiful in his own way. One by one they came on and off of the stage Winwin was anxious to conquer, his leg beginning to jump against the floor as the nerves in his system pulled with each name that was called.
When his did, he stood only to get stopped by his teacher. The teacher smiled and pulled a small sakura branch from his bag, slipping it behind Winwin’s ear and securing it with a few pins. “For good luck,” he explained before giving him a nod towards the stage.
It’s been years since that day and Winwin won enough stages to be proud of himself. He worked hard, climbing the Chinese competition ladder, striving for greater beauty. Flowers kind of became a part of dance to him, since that day with that sakura branch. He made it a habit of his to get just the right flower to match his feelings; going from store to store until he found just the right one he was looking for, a beauty to match the beauty of the dance he worked so hard on.
The flowers varied, from stronger flowers that would make bolder statements like a Bird of Paradise flower, to smaller flowers that he intertwined using his own fingers such as daisies and Baby’s Breath. His mother noticed how much thought he puts into those flowers, slowly getting him more and more books about flowers and their meaning to help him choose them in a wiser method. He loved those books, usually taking him with him when he went abroad for world competitions.
He learned that flowers in different countries had different vibrancy levels, even when concerning the same kind of flowers. Usually when in a foreign country, he used his book to choose a flower that was so different then the picture showed. It turned harder and Winwin took this concept to heart enough to wrack his brain with it.
To his relief, Japan’s flowers were closer to China’s than any other country. There weren’t that many flower shops around, so he figured they might like flowers less, but they had more accurate flowers to what his favorite book showed. It took some working, some researching places with fresh flowers; Winwin even went as far as to learn basic Japanese in order to find them faster. His accent threw the locals off a bit at times, but since he had many competitions and many opportunities to perfect his basic Japanese, he got better with time.
This time around he had three different stages in one competition, luckily again in Japan. His teacher still stayed by his side even when close to ten years have passed, and he gave him more and more credit for his work, making his exercises harder and much more complicated then he used to get back when he was in China’s eyes. Three was the most he’s ever done and he knew it’s going to take three days, making it a task to find a shop and stick to it, probably returning every day for a different flower for a different routine.
He needed some place comfortable, warm that held beautiful flowers. The first two places he set foot in failed to rise up to his expectations, but Winwin’s had this feeling that there’s a place perfect for him, right where he needs to go.
His eyes scanned the sign in front of him, comparing the complex Japanese letters to the writing in his research papers. This must me the Nakamoto flower shop. It seemed well organized from the outside and Winwin placed a polite smile on his face before pushing the door open. The door rang the bell above it in a mellow tone that gave the place a few points, in contrast to the Yuri flower shop. The bell there was probably made in hell. Winwin’s eyes scanned the shop to find one single clerk behind a large wooden counter, the man’s back turned to him. By his built Winwin thought he must have not been much older than he was, also considering the man had a football shirt on that red Nakamoto with a number 10 below it.
The man turned around to meet his costumer, and when his face revealed to Winwin, the Chinese teen couldn’t seem to catch a breath. He was right, the man behind the counter must have been a teen about his age, but there was one difference between them. Whoever that boy was, he was gorgeous. His features were defined, his soft, silky hair falling into his eyes and when the boy jerked his head to move the hairs away, Winwin felt like he could scream.
“Welcome!”
The thing Winwin was most not prepared for was the smile. Lips made perfectly for hurting Winwin’s heart stretched over perfect, pearly white teeth, lightening up his face in a way Winwin never thought was possible, but with the glow it had before the smile came to. Definitely the smile.
“Oh, you’re not local, are you?” The sin of a teen asked, his eyes darting around a little before he forced them back on Winwin who was frozen in his spot, eyes wide and breathe shallow. The Japanese boy repeated the greeting in English, the words coming out with obvious difficulty.
You need to get yourself back together, Winwin.
“Ugh,” he forced his gaze away, looking around at the flowers. “Japanese is fine.”
“Oh, good,” The Japanese boy laughed lightly, making Winwin’s heart shake. “I’m no good at English anyways. Where are you from?”
“China.”
“Cool.” Winwin could hear footsteps coming close when they definitely shouldn’t have. “What type of flower are you looking for?”
Winwin wordlessly opened his book in the page he marked earlier, showing it to the other boy. The presence drew nearer until their arms were brushing, making Winwin close his eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s right over here,” The boy said, his hand wrapping around Winwin’s arm to direct him when he noticed Winwin wasn’t going to look where he pointed. The deep breathes weren’t helping anymore but the Chinese followed him anyways, taking his chances at looking at the Japanese boy. His features were even more perfect up close, more beautiful than anything else he’s ever seen.
And Winwin has seen many beautiful things.
The boy finally stopped in front of a batch of flowers that made Winwin come to life, hands reaching forward to touch the petals softly. They were perfect, not nearly as perfect as the boy besides him, but still exactly what Winwin was looking for. He made the mistake of looking away from them and into the face of the thing he definitely was not looking for, that vibrant smile returned when their eyes met. “I’m Yuta, by the way.”
“Hi.” Was the only thing Winwin managed to shove out of his mouth.
“And you are…” Yuta narrowed his eyes as his words trailed, making Winwin return his own the flowers, the thing that seems to hurt him less.
“Winwin.”
“That could be the cutest name I’ve ever heard,” Yuta laughed again and his hand touched Winwin’s shoulder lightly and he had to get out of there. Right Now.
He forced himself to pick a flower as Yuta’s hand left his shoulder and he returned to the counter, giving Winwin a chance to breath. He picked the branch he liked best as quickly as he could, pulling it out of the rubber that attached it to the rest before he came up to the counter. He could feel Yuta’s eyes on him the entire time, the teenager obviously had nothing else to do as it seems Winwin was the only customer at the moment.
Winwin laid the branch softly in front of him, eyes still down casted from the knowledge of what looking up at the Yuta’s face does to him. Delicate fingers came into his line of view to take the branch away, quick work took no more than a second to return it to the same spot, wrapped in protection and a single, red ribbon. Winwin reached for his bag when he heard Yuta laugh again, making him lift his eyes. “It’s on the house. A single branch is not worth the troubles of calculating how much it’s worth,” Yuta used his hand to slide his bangs back and this was much worse than the jerking of his head to do it.
Since he couldn’t find words Winwin nodded, forcing a ‘thank you’ out and it took him a few seconds and a somewhat excited sound from Yuta to notice he said it in his own language. “Come again,” Yuta said with a smaller, less pain-causing smile and Winwin felt without a doubt that he meant those words.
*
Since he set foot outside of the Nakamoto flower shop, Winwin felt only one thing.
Distracted.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Yuta Nakamoto, the clerk from the flower shop. Even through an ice cold shower, getting dressed, organizing the flower he got in his hair, stepping up on a huge stage to carry out his routine, he still thought about that mesmerizing smile that seemed to take him captive.
Thankfully he had it together long enough to give a performance he wasn’t ashamed off, but the second the trance his dance put him in vanished, the Japanese boy returned. The night passed dreamlessly and here Winwin found himself again, right in front of the same shop.
He decided he needed a Baby’s Breathe this time around, feeling that a crown made out of soft white flowers would be best for the dance he had today. It might have been his favorite flower to turn into his own piece of art, and he knew it could grab his attention long enough for him to not miss too many heartbeats because of Yuta.
He pushed the door and the bell rang and the second his eyes landed on Yuta again, he knew his hope was false. The Japanese teen was out of his uniform today, the button up he has instead was not helping one bit, but it wasn’t causing as much harm as the dark blue beanie his head was graced with.
Yuta lifted his eyes to meet Winwin’s and that smile returned in such a high strength, Winwin felt like he was just healed from all the wrongs in his life. “Winwin!” Yuta exclaimed, placing his forearms on the counter to lean against it, looking like absolute sin. “Just the one I wanted to see. What are you looking for today?”
Winwin felt his cheeks heat up at the excitement that surged through him, taking carefully counted steps towards the other boy. Yuta’s smile never wavered as he watched Winwin advance, and the Chinese felt like every step he takes leads him to his doom. “Baby’s Breathe,” he replied, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to keep it together long enough to step out alive.
Something flashed in Yuta’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for Winwin to understand. The boy moved from behind the counter and Winwin followed him, feeling more prepared this time around. Yuta lead him to the most beautiful batch of Baby’s Breathe he has ever laid eyes on, the Chinese boy taking pleasure in pulling the branches apart and picking between them. He almost didn’t notice how Yuta leaned back against the showcase behind him, looking at Winwin closely, at his hands moving the flowers delicately around their small pot.
“You know, I never understood love for flowers,” Yuta spoke slowly and Winwin froze for a second, taking a deep breath before he continued what he was doing. “You get them and they wilt, for you to get them again. It’s not a nice gift to give someone, a gift that dies.” Winwin did nothing but nod at the other’s words, definitely not trusting his voice and Japanese skills to carry out an answer to what the other boy told him. “What do you use them for?”
He took a quick breathe as he built a sentence in his head, hoping to not get anything wrong as he spoke, “Decorations for when I dance.”
“You put them on yourself?” Yuta sounded awed and Winwin peaked at him to see a soft expression he didn’t expect to find there. “That sounds beautiful. Maybe you could show me sometime.”
Yuta took a few steps closer, one of his hands reaching near Winwin, making the Chinese’s heart skip beats like Yuta seemed to do best. He grabbed one of the branches that Winwin chose and slipped it behind his ear, making a happy sound that made his eyes train on his face. Yuta’s hand lingered around Winwin’s ear as he gave him that dazzling smile again, this time so close that Winwin could feel the Japanese boy’s warm breath on his face, and along with the sweet smell of flowers surrounding them and the feeling of soft petals between his fingers, it felt like a dream. “Beautiful,” Yuta decided, tilting his head as playful eyes never left Winwin’s wide ones. The sensation that swept over Winwin’s being told him one thing, and one thing along.
If his entire life he was chasing after beauty, right here in this flower shop with this boy, he found it.