Chapter Text
What was supposed to be a perfectly normal commute to the middle school had turned into a little adventure, and one that Ryland wasn't too upset about.
While he didn't particularly enjoy changes to his routine, it wasn't every day that a new shop opened up so close to home, and right along his usual route to work. He had just come out of the weekend, ready to start a new week of classes, when the little vacant spot nestled between two taller buildings caught his eye. The door had been freshly painted in a soft green, and a sign in the window was flipped to “We're Open!” Sitting along the top of the building, just slightly askew, was a wooden sign that looked handmade, with the name of the shop painted in pleasant, easy-to-read script.
The Blooming Grove.
It was just a little shop, built from sandy-colored bricks, but there was a certain amount of charm to it. A pair of big, potted plants sat to either side of the door, and the window was full of even more greenery and some brightly-colored flower arrangements. Ryland wasn’t much of a plant guy, and had trouble keeping anything but cacti alive, but how could he resist the pull to take a quick look before continuing on to work? Thankfully, there was a bike rack underneath the front window, so he hopped off and walked it up to sit in one of the slots, pulling off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as he pushed on the door.
The interior was very quaint, almost homey. The walls were painted a rich, earthy brown, with pale yellow accents and what seemed to be more hand-painted tree motifs along the baseboards. There were so many different plants, arranged lovingly in trays on tiered shelves and labeled with little handwritten signs. It was warm and a little humid, but not uncomfortably so, the air thick with the smell of flowers and fresh earth. A long counter sat near the back, an open doorway leading to an area beyond it, where a subtle violet glow was just visible. Ryland looked around in interest, a small smile on his lips as he took in the atmosphere and examined the greenery. It felt so alive in there.
He leaned over to inspect the variegated leaves of something labeled a “Remember-Me Hosta.” A soft chuckle bubbled out of him.
“Well, with such pretty leaves, how could I forget?” he cooed, gently pinching one of the leaves in his fingers and tilting it down to expose more of the interesting, pale markings. The label also mentioned that it did well in the shade.
“Not a huge fan of the sun either, huh? I get that, I’m more of a fog person, myself.”
Ryland was so enamored with the plant that he didn't even hear the shuffling of someone else nearby. Only when he heard a startled “ah!” did he jump, straightening up so quickly it made him a little lightheaded.
“Shit, thought I installed that bell-”
The teacher turned around, a hand over his chest as he let out a breathy laugh, fighting to calm his pounding heart.
“Oh jeez, sorry, I should have said something! My bad.”
Ryland wasn't sure who he was expecting to see running a flower shop, but it certainly wasn't the guy closing the door to the back. Black hair, partially pulled back into a bun, briefly shrouded the man's face before he brushed his bangs out of the way. He looked to be of Asian descent, with dark, almond-shaped eyes set into a, quite frankly, very handsome face. The left side had some very prominent scarring, though, that stretched into a narrow line that crossed over a nose that looked like it had sustained more than one break. The left eye was a little cloudy, most likely blinded from whatever injury had caused the scar. Ryland found his gaze wandering as he examined further, noticing that the guy's left sleeve was tied off.
Oh.
He quickly averted his eyes, clearing his throat and fixing his glasses on his nose. He put on his least-awkward smile, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and trying to ignore the way the stranger's eyes bore into him.
“Hi! Uh, I was just passing by, on my way to work. This place has been empty for such a long time that I didn't even notice someone was moving into it!”
He shifted his eyes around the interior again, looking at all of the plants.
“Never expected a florist. It's really nice, what you've done with the place.”
The man had been quiet for a little too long, so Ryland turned his gaze back on him. His head was canted slightly to the side, and those intense eyes had softened significantly. As if he had just realized that it was his turn to speak, the man perked up and brushed his soil-dusted hand on the brown apron draped over his front.
“Oh, um, yeah. Sorry, I was checking on seedlings. Thanks for reminding me to install the bell above the door,” he said, his tone a little nervous but held a certain rich, smoky quality to it.
Wow, he's got such a nice voice…
“So! What can I do for you? Looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?”
Ryland nervously rubbed at his cheek as he glanced around again.
“Ah, well…my track record with plants isn't…the best,” he admitted. “B-But I'm open to suggestions! Um…preferably something that would do well indoors? And…maybe doesn't need too much attention? Oh!”
Ryland's face lit up.
“Something I could put in my classroom! I bet some of my kids would like to see some greenery.”
The florist looked him over, his eyes seeming to linger on the lanyard around Ryland's neck with his badge on it.
“...You're a teacher at Grover Cleveland?” he asked, voice surprisingly soft.
“Yeah! I teach science. Not to brag, but my students? Some of the best and brightest young minds,” he said with a grin. “I've already got recommendations for a few of them wanting to pursue STEM programs. Great bunch, this year.”
The man smiled, and Ryland wasn't sure if he'd ever seen anything more charming. It was lopsided, fond, and the way those dark eyes sparkled just a little alongside it was so utterly sweet.
“I think I might know what to give you,” the man said with a nod, looking toward one of the stacked shelves as he maneuvered around the counter. Ryland watched him with interest as he moved in front of some trays, picking over them before carefully lifting a little plastic pot with some strange-looking growths in it. They didn't look like any plant the teacher had ever seen, short and squat, round like one of his worry stones, but bifurcated down the middle to separate them into two halves. The florist brought it over to him, holding it up.
“Wow, what in the world…?” he asked, marveling at the weird little things. “What are these?”
“They're a kind of succulent, called a Lithops. A lot of people call them ‘living stones’ though.”
“I can see why! Gosh, they look like little pebbles, so cute…”
Ryland was absolutely smitten with them, looking back at the man with the biggest, goofiest smile. “I'll take ‘em! I bet the kids will get a kick out of them, too.”
There was a nearly imperceptible reddening in the guy's face as he quickly turned back toward the counter, carrying the little container with him. Ryland's eyes caught on some of the smaller scars peppered over his remaining arm, the sleeve of his black shirt rolled up above the elbow. What could have possibly happened to this man prior to being a florist, he wondered.
“Let me get you some care instructions real quick, Mr. Grace,” the florist said, setting the plant next to the register before ducking down to dig around behind it.
“Oh, gosh, please just call me Ryland, or Grace. Mr. Grace is so formal,” he laughed, planting a hand on the edge of the counter and leaning against it as casually as he possibly could.
“Alright then, Grace. Here's a care card,” the man said, rising back up and sliding a laminated little card with a picture of the plant on one side and instructions on the other. “They do need between 4-6 hours of sunlight, so if you've got a window you can put them in, that would be perfect. Otherwise, you only need to water them if they start to look a little wrinkled, and don't water them at all during the winter.”
Ryland nodded, looking over the card with a small grin.
“Great, awesome! I see they need some special potting mix, uh…do you sell that here?”
“Sure do. Would you like a new pot to put it in, as well?”
Ryland tilted his head this way and that, thinking.
“Could it be painted…? I think it would be nice to let the kids have the option to decorate it.”
“Yeah, that would be fine,” the man said, ducking down again to pick up a small clay pot, and then moved around to where some bags of soil had been stacked up against the wall. Ryland straightened up as the guy was about to manhandle a bag of high-drainage soil with his single arm.
“Would you like some h-”
He had moved to help on instinct, but stopped in his tracks as the florist just let out a soft grunt and slung the bag into his shoulder with seemingly little effort at all.
“Oh.”
The man looked at him, then cocked a brow.
“I moved everything in here, you think a bag of dirt is going to kill me?” he asked, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement.
“You what?”
Ryland was aghast that this guy would move all of this stuff in here on his own. That seemed terribly unfair, but the florist just shrugged.
“I'm used to doing things by myself.”
Against his better judgement, Ryland cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his head before offering, “Uh, well, if you want any help with anything…I'd be willing to lend a hand.”
He stopped, realizing with abject horror what he'd just said, then practically tripped over himself to try and do damage control.
“That! Came out wrong!” he said, lifting his hands apologetically even though the other man didn’t look nearly as offended as he thought he should have been. “What I meant to say was-”
The florist shook his head with a chuckle. A chuckle. Ryland gaped like a fish out of water before snapping his mouth shut.
“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, giving the whole situation a dismissive wave. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good, honest.”
Ryland deflated, scratching his head in a way that ruffled his hair into sticking up at odd angles.
“Sorry.”
“I said don’t worry about it, and I meant it,” came the stranger’s reply, “I’m not offended. Now, will that be cash or card?”
Ryland fumbled for his wallet, yanking it out of his back pocket.
“Uh, card, please.”
“Alright, your total will be $15.47.”
Embarrassed and bashful, Ryland swiped his card and tucked it back in his wallet, returning them both to his pocket.
“Th-Thanks, uh…I hope the kids like the little Lithops, else I might be the only one who thinks they’re cool,” he said with a nervous huff. “Well, maybe my buds Rocky and Adrian might like them…I should take a picture and send it to them.”
“I think they’re cool, too,” the florist said, giving Ryland a smile that was all too soft for a guy who had just witnessed one of his infamous awkward blunders. It made his face and the tips of his ears warm.
“Thank you, again, I’m…gosh, I hope I can keep them alive…”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Do you need any help carrying these out?”
“No! No no no, you’ve done more than enough already, I can absolutely handle this,” Ryland said with a short laugh. “The soil should fit on the back of my bike…and I think I can tuck the pot in my bag. I’ll hold the Lithops so they don’t risk getting squished or anything.”
The florist smiled again, and Ryland had to try not to stare at how it crinkled the corners of the man’s eyes and made his nose wrinkle in such a painfully cute way.
“How about I just do this, make it easier for you.”
Ryland watched as the smaller container for the Lithops got gently plopped into the empty pot before the man held both out to him.
“Oh, I- yeah, that makes more sense.” Ryland, the science teacher, was not thinking about how to make his own life any easier. Go figure. Speaking of which, he checked his watch and let out a low “Oh no-” before he quickly took the pot into one arm and scooped the bag of soil in the other.
“Gotta run! It was so nice to meet you!” he rushed out, giving the florist a small duck of his head before hurrying out the door. He barely heard the soft “Come again!” behind him, and the even softer chuckling that was cut off by the door closing.
He didn’t think he could pedal any faster than he did to get to the school on time, hurrying into his classroom and practically sliding in from the open door to a bunch of chatty students with a bag of soil over one shoulder, a pot with a little plant in the other hand, and his satchel with the graded quizzes from Friday. As disheveled as he initially looked, he had a big grin plastered on his face.
“We’re learning about plant cells today!” he announced, the chatter dying down. “And we’ve got a new addition to the class!”
He proudly held up the pot.
“I’d like everyone to meet…Lottie the Lithops!”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The reception of the new plant was mixed, but largely positive. A handful of the students didn’t care all that much, but there were a few who were very enthusiastic about the living stones, so he had passed the little card around for them to learn from while he taught the class about the differences between plant and animal cells. A couple of the kids wanted to paint the pot, which he was very happy about and encouraged them to ask the art instructor if she would be willing to let them borrow some paints. He was sure that little Lottie would be fine in its container for a couple more days, so he left it in the windowsill.
At the end of the class, he passed out their graded tests and congratulated the lot of them on their collective good scores, gently reminding them that anyone needing help is more than welcome to see him after class for questions. Once the last student had wandered out, the classroom door closed quietly and left him alone with his thoughts. He fiddled with a pen in his hands, reflecting on the day in the resulting silence. His mind was cast adrift on a lazy river, ruminating on what tomorrow’s lesson plan should be, then moving on to the plant cells he had gone over, the mixed enthusiasm of the students, the small plant in his window, then the flower shop, the florist, the way he had smiled, the crinkles in his nose and eyes, the rich tone of his voice-
Ryland had to stop that train of thought, taking a pause to squint up at the planetary system hanging on his ceiling. A weighty, exasperated sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes.
“I never got his name.”
He gritted his teeth in aggravation, only at himself though. Would it be weird if he swung by the shop after school just to ask the guy what his name was? Was that awkward? Oh no, he couldn’t just walk into that flower shop and chat up the shopkeep like a creep, he’d have to buy something, surely. It was a place of business! But he couldn’t bring home another plant, he was so bad at keeping plants alive. Briefly, very briefly, he considered asking the man if he might teach him a little bit about general plant care. Just thinking about watching him work his hand into soft earth, showing how to properly re-pot a flower, fingers digging into the soil and stirring it up.
Why was that so attractive?
Ryland shook his head, as if he could clear the thoughts from his head like an etch-a-sketch and start again, but he found the thoughts wandering again. He should probably just go home.
On his way out to the parking lot, he got a ping on his phone. It was a familiar sound, now, given that he was in a group chat for the faculty as well as one with his two dearest friends. It was the latter that was messaging him, according to the notification.
[The Rockstar]
GRACE
[The Rockstar]
I know you’re off work, Grace! Time zones can’t stop me!
[The Rockstar]
You better not be ignoring me!
Ryland huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled up the keyboard on his screen. No sooner had he started typing did another message pop up.
[The Rockstar]
GRACE SHUT UP I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT
Another, louder and more incredulous laugh escaped him, so he paused his typing to see what his friend had to say. Another name started to type, pulling a much softer smile from him.
[Adrian <3]
We have an announcement.
As if on cue, a photo is sent into the chat. Ryland froze, staring at it first with surprise, then with such a deep fondness that it started to overflow from his eyes. It was a picture of Rocky, his golden-brown face way too close to the camera, but absolutely elated with the big, goofy grin plastered on it. He was holding up a darker-skinned hand, belonging to the pleased-but-exasperated face just slightly further back in the picture, dark hair undercolored with vibrant teal. Rocky was pointing very excitedly to a ring on their finger. It looked handmade, silver with a chunk of stone that looked like it could be malachite, based on the banding of dark and bright greens.
[Grace]
Oh my god, you did not!
[The Rockstar]
DID!
[Adrian <3]
It only took him seven tries, but I took pity on him this time.
[Grace]
Oh man, guys
[Grace]
I’m so gosh darn happy for you, you have no idea
[The Rockstar]
Grace is crying.
[Grace]
Am not!
Ryland wiped his eyes, chuckling to himself. It was a choked and gargling sound, but he made it anyway. It wasn’t as if anyone was really paying attention to him right now.
[Grace]
Seriously, guys, congratulations!
[The Rockstar]
You are required to come to the wedding. This is non-negotiable.
[Grace]
Bossy as ever, I see
[Grace]
As if you could keep me out!
[The Rockstar]
Hm, challenge issued. Nevermind, Grace is banned from wedding.
[Grace]
HEY
[Adrian <3]
He’s joking, I think he would keel over and perish if you didn’t come to the wedding.
[The Rockstar]
You’re lucky Adrian loves you, too.
[Grace]
Aw, you guys <3
[The Rockstar]
We’ll keep you updated on things as they progress. The current plan is to have it next summer, so you have NO EXCUSE not to show up.
[Grace]
Haha, of course bud, wouldn’t miss it for the world.
[Grace]
I need to bike home now, call me later?
[The Rockstar]
Yes yes yes, video call!
[Grace]
Sounds great, see you then!
He pocketed his phone and swiped a thumb over his eyes, clearing the mist from them before straddling his bike and cycling out of the lot. He almost completely passed the flower shop on his way back, his brain stuttering alongside his body as he very quickly made the sharp turn into the trio of parking spots just outside the storefront. His heart pounded in his chest with the adrenaline of his snap decision, dismounting the bike and standing hunched over with his hands on his knees for a few seconds to breathe. Once he had collected himself, he lifted his head to peek into the window, and noticed that the dark-haired florist was watching him with concern.
Heat rose to his face immediately, and he had to steel his nerves before they threatened to make him get back on his bike and flee out of embarrassment. With a steadying breath, he unclipped his helmet and tucked it under his arm, wandering in through the front door. There was a soft, metallic ringing from above his head, and he looked up to see a small bell gently swinging back and forth.
“Oh! You installed the bell!”
He mustered up a smile, and the florist did the same, those intense eyes softening as Ryland approached.
“I did,” the man said, giving a small nod. “It didn’t take long.”
Ryland looked around the room to pick out anything else that might have changed. A few more plants were gone, and there were a couple of containers holding fresh-cut flowers sitting by the counter.
“I uh…realized that I had been very rude, earlier,” he started, clearing his throat. The florist gave him a confused look.
“Rude? You were perfectly fine,” he replied, but Ryland held up a hand to stop him.
“No no no, I completely forgot to introduce myself, or even ask your name!”
The florist tilted his head slightly, as if he hadn’t been expecting any sort of introductions to be exchanged. It twisted something in Ryland’s chest, something familiar. The sensation of recognition after spending a long time being largely dismissed and unimportant. Had this guy grown accustomed to a similar feeling? Well, that simply wouldn’t stand!
Ryland held his hand out and beamed, the florist’s eyes going a little bit wider than they had been.
“Ryland Grace, it’s so nice to meet you!”
The man’s eyes flicked from Ryland’s face, to his hand, back to his face again. There was a soft deepening in the color of his cheeks as he reached out and cautiously took Ryland’s offer of a handshake. His grip was firm, but careful, as if he had too much awareness of the strength in his grasp.
“I’m...Simon.”