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Stumbling into the first flower shop he can find, Louis’ huff echoes around the empty store. “I don’t know where you are,” he starts, voice raising as his eyes dart around the various walls of flowers. He feels the rage working up in him again, slamming a 20 pound bill on the counter as he yells, “But I need to passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower.”
Hearing a noise in the back room that sounds like it could be footsteps, he continues angrily, “I have the absolute pleasure of having a roommate that won’t stop fucking his boyfriend in the middle of the night.” Letting out a sigh as he turns around to take a look at the various bouquets, he mumbles, as if to himself, “It’s been days since I’ve slept properly.”
“So that’s who the flowers are for?” A low voice clarifies from behind him, and the sudden sound startles Louis, causing him to almost drop the bouquet he had just picked up.
Setting down the bouquet gently before his hands betray him any further, Louis spins on his heel to face the boy before him. “Yeah, for my roommate, Zayn, and his apparently very, very loud boyfriend, Li—” He cuts off with a gulp, his gaze stopping at the soft, hazel eyes in front of him, his glance then falling to the long, brown ringlets framing the florist’s sharp jaw.
The boy doesn’t say anything, just smirks at Louis’ surprised look, chuckling lowly as he watches a slightly overwhelmed-looking Louis take in his first sight of him.
“Uhh” is all Louis can get out. At the vision in front of him, any leftover residue of anger has completely evaporated, leaving him stunned and, apparently, unable to think.
As Louis continues to stare, the boy finally grins, “As far as the flowers go…”
Realizing how long his eyes have been locked on the other boy, Louis lowers them with a start, suddenly shy. His heart pounding, he lets out a little cough.
Giving a small smile, the florist’s eyes glaze over as his eyebrows knit together, pondering for a minute which flowers he’d need. Even though he’s well aware Louis may not even be looking for an actual answer, he enjoys the challenge. Biting his lip, he allows himself to filter through all of the possibilities.
“So, you’d need a few different types of flowers to really get the… desired… je ne sais quoi.” He gives a half-smile at his own words before mumbling, “Geraniums, of course, for stupidity.” As if running through a list in his mind, he starts counting on his fingers to keep track. “Foxglove is a necessity, for insincerity.” He closes his eyes a moment, and then continues on quietly, “Meadowsweet, to show the uselessness of this whole thing.”
At these words, he opens his eyes, catching Louis looking at him again. With a blush and a shy smile, Louis’ eyes dart away once more. Harry’s lips upturn just slightly at this before he clears his throat and continues, “Yellow carnations, since the two of them have disappointed you.” He hums, muttering something about needing one more. “Orange lilies?” He asks, as if Louis would be able to distinguish one flower from the next.
Louis snorts at this as he looks up at the other boy again. Crinkling his nose at the sound, his eyes bright, the man finishes, “Those are for hatred.“ When Louis just continues staring at him, he responds to his own question, saying in a low voice, "Yeah, they’d be good.”
Louis nods, not able to add any input anyway, but feeling a bit speechless, in awe of how easy this whole thing is for him.
“And, uhh, what’s your name?” The boy asks when Louis still hasn’t said anything. “For the order, you know,” he finishes quickly.
“Uhh… Louis. Louis Tomlinson,” he sputters out as he tries (and fails) to say something completely dazzling and unforgettable.
“I’m Harry,” the boy smiles with a little nod. “Harry Styles.”
“So, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says as he tries the name out with a grin. “If you want to say ‘fuck you’ in flower today”–Harry chuckles at this, thinking how he never would’ve assumed he’d ever put that specific string of words together—”You can come and pick it up later. In a couple of hours maybe?”
Louis blinks twice, bringing him back to his normal self with a start. Grinning, he says assuredly, “It’s a date then.”
Nervously fixing his quiff as he stands outside the door to the flower shop once more, Louis takes a little breath out before jumping up and down in place a few times. He can do this. He’s just a boy, for God’s sake, he thinks to himself bitterly. Pull your head out of your ass.
He jerks open the door before he has time to second guess himself, making his way back to the same counter he’d found himself standing at when he entered last time. The whole thing gives him a strange sense of deja vu, especially when he notices that, again, Harry is gone, assumedly in the back room. But the bouquet itself is out there, front and center with a little card stuck in the dirt that says in perfect calligraphy: Zayn & Liam.
Louis can’t help it: He’s drawn to the bouquet, the aesthetic mix of yellows, oranges, pinks, and whites practically bursting out of the clear, glass vase. Leaning in to get a better look at the whole thing–really an excuse to be able to smell the flowers–he pops up when he hears the familiar voice in front of him. “Louis,” the florist says with a grin.
“Harry, it’s stunning,” Louis breathes out, glancing up to catch Harry’s eye. Amazed by the blending of flowers in front of him, he gives him a small smile.
Harry returns the gesture, nodding over to the flowers as he laughs, “Before all this, did you ever consider buying, oh, I don’t know, earbuds?”
“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” Louis retorts with a sigh. “They’re too loud for that,” he huffs, scuffing his foot against the tile below him. “And it doesn’t stop the wall from vibrating,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.
“Well, maybe you should just leave them alone. They’re obviously in love, Louis,” Harry says quietly with a shrug and a shy smile.
Louis takes this opportunity–there couldn’t ever be a more fitting sequitur than this one–to continue on before he has the chance to talk himself out of it. “Speaking of which,” he says, attempting to keep his tone casual, “I have a question.” Louis glances up to watch Harry, and then looks back down at the flowers in front of him.
Harry looks taken aback by the statement, but nods seriously. “Alright, shoot.”
“How do you suggest I ask someone on a date in flower?” Louis starts, keeping his voice low. “Cause there’s this guy I just met but I’d really like to get to know him better and—“
Louis looks up suddenly from the flowers he’s continued to hide his face in, giving perplexed Harry a smirk. Oh. And then Harry gets it.
Dryly and without emotion, Harry points over a particularly large bouquet, easily the most expensive one in the store.
Louis dips his head, giving Harry a are-you-fucking-serious death stare. “You’re really gonna tell me I gotta pick the hundred pound bouquet?” Louis asks, voice raising as his hands fly up.
“No,” Harry says easily with a chuckle as he finds his way out from behind the counter. “Ever heard of a joke, Tomlinson?”
Louis rolls his eyes at the comment, but smiles wide anyway. Something about this boy makes him do that, even though he’s not quite sure what it is.
“Well,” Harry starts, more seriously this time. “If you’re gonna ask the boy I think you’re going to, all you need to do is just ask.” He gives Louis a shy smile, looking fondly at the boy in front of him.
“Okay, thanks, mate, I will,” Louis grins. “Thanks for the advice,” he says cheekily, swinging his arms as he takes one step towards the door, feigning towards the exit.
Seeing the look of horror that passes over Harry’s face, he stops suddenly, raising his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, only kidding!” He reassures with a smirk before continuing on in a rush. “But, okay, Harry, the florist I just met but would really like to get to know better, will you go out with me?”
Harry ponders this for a moment–a moment too long for Louis’ taste–and then plucks one of the pink geraniums from the vase. Sticking it in Louis’ shirt pocket with a wink, he beams, “It’s a date, Louis.”