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As he watched dusk descend over the tattoo parlour across the road, Al made a few final checks to the vase of calla lilies on the counter and reached for his crutch. It had been a slow day and neither he nor Ed had seen much business – but that’s always how it was on a Wednesday; nobody ever needed –
“Hello? Are you open?”
Scratch that.
“Yes, can I help you?” asked Al, clocking the tall young man sauntering over to a bouquet of daisies. He had a fine jacket on, and Al rather hoped that the man wasn’t too rich as he surveyed his own tattered jeans.
“Please,” said the man. “I’m in trouble,” he grinned, and then sneezed into his elbow. “Sorry. Allergies.”
“Are you okay?” Today would probably not be a brilliant day for a stranger to spread germs all over the shop – Ed’s thesis statement was due in a few days and Al was hoping he’d hear back for an interview for his Master’s at some point this week. A cold would help neither of them, not that Al was begrudging the man for his allergies – nothing like that; he just didn’t want to get sick.
“Fine,” the man sniffed. “I just – need some flowers to make up for…” he sneezed again. “Something.”
“Right,” said Al cautiously. “Um, do you know what you’re looking for?”
The man shrugged. “I was hoping you might be able to help me there.” He took a second before seeming to come into himself. “Ling Yao,” he said, and bowed slightly.
A little unsure of how to respond, Al bowed back. “Alphonse Elric.” He staggered out from behind the counter. “Let’s see if we can find you something, Mr Yao.”
“Please, call me Ling.” Ling dodged a large spray of Sweet Alyssum, his eyes streaming. “I should probably find something a little low key; she doesn’t like big displays.”
Al nodded. He knew plenty of couples who were just the same: Mustang always showed up and brought bouquets upon bouquets of roses on a Friday, and Hawkeye always came in on a Saturday morning to return most of them, except for the ones that would look elegant in her apartment. Still – he shouldn’t think about roses at all for Ling, who seemed to be struggling even with the less allergenic flowers.
“Let’s – uh – move away from the sunflowers, I think,” said Al.
Ling’s eyes widened. “Sunflowers – of course!” He paused to sneeze again. “She loves sunflowers.”
Oh. This wasn’t good. “Really, sir, our sunflowers are low quality; how about some crocus – those are simple but elegant.” He really, really hoped that Ling wasn’t about to talk about the shop to other potential customers; Ed slaved over the sunflowers – those and the daisies were the only flowers they grew themselves, and they sold like hotcakes.
Al made his way over to where clusters of crocus blooming in fireworks of purple and gold lay neatly tied together. “I’m sure that she’d be more than happy with these; we can add more flowers to the arrangement, too, if it isn’t enough.”
Ling leaned in closely. Al thought in secret that he must be a very stupid man to lean in so close to the flowers when his nose was purple after just moments in the shop and his eyes were already wet, but he bit his tongue. Any money was money that could get him through university and into a research placement.
Ling stood up straight. “No, they’re not right.” He rubbed at his nose with his sleeve and Al wordlessly handed him a tissue from his pocket. “I need to see the sunflowers – she really, really loves sunflowers.”
Al stood for a moment before conceding. “Fine,” he said. “Follow me.”
In spite of his annoyance, he led Ling through to the showroom. The sunflowers were grand, flashing their vivid gold petals in every direction. It helped, of course, that Al had played off their intensity by accenting the yellow by scattering bluebells amongst the petals and tying the arrangement together with simple white string.
Ling pointed in astonishment. “These are low quality?”
“Well…” started Al, but it was no use. The jig was up. “I lied – I’m sorry; sunflowers are very allergenic, and you seem to be struggling enough as it is.”
Ling smiled. “No,” he said. “I’m fine.” He sneezed into the tissue Al had given him, and when his breath hitched in a wheeze as he tried to inhale deeply, he just smiled.
Al stared at him. He didn’t believe for a moment that Ling was fine, but there was nothing to be done. “Okay,” he said. “Well, that arrangement is good for baby showers and summer birthday parties, but I don’t think it’s as delicate as you’d like.”
Ling thought for a moment before agreeing with Al, and together they made their way around the room. It was grand, Al had to admit. Ed was not fashionable, but when it came to growing the daisies and the sunflowers, he knew exactly what to do.
“Oh,” said Ling. He had stopped in front of a display of sunflowers and gerbera daisies. “These look right.”
Al turned to examine the arrangement more closely. “Yes,” he said. He was hoping that he might manage to usher Ling out of the shop soon. “That’s a nice arrangement; my brother grew these himself.” He paused. “I’m sure that no matter what you’ve done, your girlfriend will forgive you.”
Quite unexpectedly, Ling began to laugh. Al paused, slightly horrified. He didn’t think that what he’d said had been funny, but that wasn’t stopping Ling at all. “Ling?” he said cautiously. “Are you okay?”
Ling wheezed out his final few laughs. “Ah,” he said, his voice sounding tight. “And here I was – hoping to…” he sneezed and coughed almost simultaneously, “hoping to get your number…”
“Oh,” said Al. “Well, in that case…”
He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, however, because a very pale Ling was tipping to the side, his eyes losing focus before finally shutting. Oh, God. Ling had fainted in front of him. Oh, God – Oh, God. Ling had asked for his number.
He couldn’t risk kneeling– he might not be able to get back up again – but he couldn’t leave Ling alone on the cold ground. “Um,” he said, his voice very high and entirely too quiet. He tried again. “Erm – brother?” he called.
A moment, but – nothing.
“Brother!”
Still nothing. He sighed; he had asked Edward so many times not to listen to his music too loudly whilst they were at work. There was nothing for it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped out a message to Ed. In showroom scared feel dizzy need you here.
In fairness, it wasn’t an absolute lie. He was very overwhelmed – and he did need Ed.
Sure enough, it had hardly been thirty seconds before Ed came barrelling into the showroom. “Al – you okay? I thought you were…” he trailed off as he caught sight of Ling’s prone form. “Oh, geez.”
“Brother,” said Al, his voice having travelled back up several octaves. “He – he asked for my number and then he fainted and I can’t kneel down to help him and I don’t know what to do!”
Ed sighed and laid his flesh hand on Al’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Al. Give me a second.”
Ed knelt down in front of Ling, checking his pulse and his breathing, before he finally stood up and delivered his verdict. “This guy’ll be fine, Al,” he said, “but you should probably call an ambulance for him.”
Al did so, rambling details into the phone until he was satisfied that he’d said everything he could. Indeed, Ed was snickering at him from where he’d taken up a place next to Ling on the ground. Al couldn’t quite bring himself to care; a customer was passed out on their shop floor, so he had to do something.
It seemed a long time before the ambulance showed up, and Alphonse launched into the explanation again in attempt to waste no more time. The paramedics swept past him, only half listening to Al’s cascade of words.
“I think he needs a nebuliser,” said Ed helpfully.
The paramedics agreed and hoisted Ling onto a stretcher. Al followed them out to the ambulance and watched as they placed a mask over Ling’s face. Ed stood at his side and, as Al felt his muscles tensing up, Ed’s hand came to his wrist and rubbed gently. “He’ll be fine, Al.”
“It’s my fault,” said Al quietly.
Ed sighed. “Dumbass knew he was allergic to flowers,” he said, “and he knew he was asthmatic.” He patted Al’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure that makes it his fault.”
Al worried his lip, but he couldn’t find a good argument.
One of the paramedics stared hard at the numbers on the screen. “Saturation hasn’t improved as much as we’d like,” he muttered. He looked down at Ling, who had since woken, but who seemed a little confused. “We’ll have to take you to the ED, I think.”
A muffled moan came through the plastic nebuliser. Al stepped forward. “Can I, um – can I come?” he asked the paramedic.
The paramedic squinted at him. “You 18?”
“Y-yes sir.” In two months, anyway, but he had a degree and co-owned a shop, which he thought basically made him…
The paramedic scoffed. “Really?”
Ed sighed and held his driver’s license up (it had already been revoked, but it did serve a purpose). “I’m 19, he said. Al’s 17. You can let him on if he’s with me, right?”
The ambulance ride was slow, and the wait in the emergency department even slower. Ling’s oxygen saturation was slowly rising, so he wasn’t considered an emergency, but as Ed and Al weren’t family, they weren’t allowed to see him, and so they were left in the waiting room. Al traced over the bones in his right hand with his index finger whilst Ed flicked through a document on his phone.
It was only when a flustered looking young woman went hurtling over to the reception desk that Ed and Al were pulled from their pastimes.
“Ling Yao!” she said urgently. Al’s head pricked up – news about Ling! “Please – I got the call that he’d collapsed; is he here?”
The receptionist pushed her glasses up her nose. “Are you his family?”
The woman rapped her fingers against the desk impatiently. “I’m his proxy – here.” She brandished her passport and did not put it down, even as the receptionist tapped her keyboard, a tired expression on her face. Al hoped she hurried up; he was becoming desperate for news on Ling.
Finally, she sighed and looked up. “Go through,” she said. “Cubicle three.”
The woman sped away so quickly that if it weren’t for the disquiet she had left, nobody would know that she had been present at all. Al sighed. Nothing on Ling. He tried to ignore the way Ed was staring after her, as if he wanted to say something.
“She had a prosthetic,” said Ed quietly.
Al nodded. “Oh.”
They fell back into silence. Al tried to persuade Ed to go home more than once, but Ed claimed that he needed to look after Al and said that the apartment was too empty without him anyway.
The woman appeared in the threshold between the ED and the waiting room. “Is there an Alphonse Elric here?”
Al stood up as quickly as he could, his heart racing, and made his way over to her. “Ling!” he said. “Is he okay.”
The woman sighed. “He’s fine – he knows he shouldn’t slow up his recovery by doing things like exposing himself to flowers.” She paused, clocking Al’s fearful expression. “He’s okay – his allergies aren’t usually this bad, but he’s had the flu, and well…” She trailed off.
Al stared awkwardly for a moment. “Can I see him?”
The woman shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not today – it’s too late, and he needs to rest.”
Al probably should have figured as much. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Okay, well – um…” He fumbled in his pocket for something he could write on, settling for an old gum wrapper, and scribbled his number on it. “Could you – um – give this to him, please?”
The woman stared at the paper for a moment, and then nodded. Her expression was severe, but Al swore he saw a smile ghost across her face. “Yes, of course.”
She took it from him, and then turned back through the doors into the Emergency Department.
“We can go home now,” said Al. Ed stood and ushered him out through the hospital, ranting about how much more sleep Al was going to need tonight and how they needed to alter his diet to make up for all the energy he’d used up. Al didn’t respond, occupied as he was with thoughts of Ling.
He fell into bed, half pushed by Ed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
The morning brought with it rain, an aching head, and a new text.
Hey!!! this is ling from yesterday. sorry i fainted in your shop lololol, get out of hospital this afternoon :D . thought u were hot. can u send the flowers to lan fan?? go 2 the hotel grande rm 505 (take the elevator its high up!!!) and shell be there. have a nice day and text me 4 a date xoxoxoxxo