Work Text:
Daffodils
rebirth, new beginnings
With the spring air that wafts in through the doors each time a customer enters, Atsumu feels fresh relief wash over him. Spring was always his favorite season growing up, watching the color explode behind his house where his mother tended to a garden and feeling the first licks of warmth on his skin. The way the entire season seemed to capture the world and paint the views with an array of pigments always drew in Atsumu. Flowers drew him in the most.
Opening a flower shop wasn’t the first idea Atsumu had for his future but in retrospect he wouldn’t trade it for anything. There was a certain joy in arrangements and learning the language of flowers so each bouquet meant something perfect. His little flower shop was a humble but bright place among the cobblestone plaza and people came and went with flowers for their loved ones. The business was good, the customers were kind, and the company he kept was amazing. It was perfect.
At least until the tattoo parlor across the plaza finally opened.
Initially, Atsumu was overjoyed to have a new addition to the little community formed among the shop owners, he even went through the effort of placing daffodils in the window; eyes shining as he picked the best ones to leave on display. But things don’t always go Atsumu’s way, much to his chagrin. In fact whenever things did go his way he would constantly hear Osamu’s stupid voice in his head telling him Hell had frozen over.
The first day he had expected it, really. He would be lying to himself to say he didn’t expect the grand opening of a fairly gorgeous tattoo parlor to be teaming with people. But then came the unprecedented fact that almost every day for the following week people would walk by his shop, point at a flower and walk by, or blatantly walk in to take a photo of a flower before disappearing into the building down the way.
They weren’t even trying to be subtle.
So to hell with daffodils. If Atsumu wanted to show off his feelings he might as well take the risk by putting black roses in the window. But Atsumu didn’t have black roses and it would also offset the normally warm tones of the shop. So he left the daffodils for the whole week, no matter how disgruntled they made him feel.
While glaring daggers at the blossoms the bell rang over his door and he blinked away the frustration and let his usual smile tip onto his face. “Hiya, welcome! How can I he-“
He petulantly stopped to stick his tongue out and resume leaning against his hand on the counter.
“What do ya want ‘Samu?”
Siblings always have a knack for getting on each other’s nerves. Twins, on the other hand, had a completely different breed of tactics. Miya Osamu always seemed to be the best at these tactics.
“What? No customer service attitude today?” Osamu huffed, walking towards the counter. He paused halfway to pluck a yellow carnation from a bucket, twisting it between two fingers before finding a seat on top of the counter with a fairly indifferent look on his face. “It’s ‘cause of the tattoo place, ain’t it?”
“No,” Atsumu snapped, very clearly indicating that of course that was the problem. Groaning for a moment, he stood from his spot behind the tabletop and promptly pushed Osamu off and onto the floor again. “Get yer ass off my counter,” he punctuated by pulling a rag from the pocket of his apron and wiping off the place that was previously occupied. Returning the rag to the small pocket, half of it hanging out of the buff colored fabric, Atsumu deliberated Osamu’s reason for stopping by. He spared a glance at the clock behind him before screwing his face into a frown. His brother owned the onigiri shop next door and it most definitely wasn’t time for his break. “Don’tcha have a business to run or somethin’?”
There was a beat of silence where Osamu turned to squint at him. Then he threw the carnation directly at his head.
Atsumu sputtered, his arms flailing out to protect himself, “What the hell was that for?” The attempt was futile and he was left unaware of the several petals that had caught in his waves.
“You suck when yer in a bad mood. I wanted to talk but I guess I’ll just leave ya.”
Atsumu reached out and grabbed the collar at the back of his shirt to yank him back before he can even get two steps in, muttering something about birth times and how useless they’ve made Osamu act. He puts on a grin and gestures for him to talk.
“Guy’s name is Sakusa Kiyoomi. According to Rin, ‘pparently he’s some hot shot artist and he’s real good at…” Osamu pauses and he quirks a brow which tells Atsumu he’s trying to remember the information that he found irrelevant but stored it away for his brother’s sake. “I think it was watercolors, dunno what that means. Anyways, he does ink and piercings and lotta folks have been askin’ for flowers lately. Point is people think he’s some mysterious whatever and keep goin’ back for consults and a lotta people who come into my place can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout how pretty he is. Tall, all light skinned and dark haired. I think there was somethin’ ‘bout beauty marks.”
Something in Atsumu’s brain starts to tick, and he can’t quite determine whether or not he’s being told this to cheer him up or to spite him. Of course Osamu had to mention his looks because Atsumu had a horrible habit of forcibly gagging and whining anytime Osamu and Rintarou were near each other and complaining about how they rubbed their relationship in his face. Which they, in fact, did not do. Atsumu was just a child.
The florist spared only a low groan and grabbed a book from under the counter, opening it to an empty page and smoothing his hand over it. “Contrary to whatcha believe, I don’t actually care.” Atsumu drew a slow breath and met Osamu’s eyes, shrugging to emphasize, “I just want my customers back so these flowers don’t die before someone gets to see ‘em, and I need to continue makin’ a livin’. Now go back to work and bring me a tuna mayo when we close.”
Being shooed out, Osamu complied, pausing at the door to glance back at his twin. He rolled his eyes lightly, frown on his lip. “You’re hopeless, ‘Tsumu.”
Atsumu elected to ignore the statement. Instead, he simply walked to the window display, plucked two of the daffodils from the bunch, and returned back to the empty page of his book. He placed the two blossoms on the page, laying a sheet of parchment paper on top, and closed the book. He returned it to it’s place under the desk with a weight on top and groaned.
“ Daffodils are hopeless.”
Lavender Roses
love at first sight, enchantment
Miya Atsumu did not believe in love at first sight. Miya Atsumu was a firm believer that cliches like that were meant for movies and people far more ignorant than him. Miya Atsumu, however, was not prepared for the way Sakusa Kiyoomi was about to knock his belief out the window without even realizing it.
Atsumu liked lavender roses. He found them not only beautiful visually, but unique. There weren’t many places that could grow the strange colored blooms. Although he didn’t care for the meaning, lavender roses were a sure fire way to draw in clients. So he created a beautiful arrangement of them and white lily of the valleys to boot. Nodding with approval at his work he flipped the sign on the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ and made his way around the shop to tend to some of the plants.
The florist stiffened in shock that the bell jingled so soon after he had flipped the sign. He turned with a quirked brow assuming Osamu or even Rintarou had come to bother him before opening. What — or rather who — he saw instead was entirely more shocking.
Standing in the middle of his humble little flower shop with yellow walls, fairy lights lining the walls, natural light filtering in through the huge window, and the giant masses of plants was none other than the owner of the tattoo parlor. Sakusa Kiyoomi was not anything like Atsumu had originally imagined. He was obscenely tall and had a slouch, which Atsumu zeroed in immediately. He narrowed his eyes at the fact, drifting to the mop of ink black curls on his head which seemed to be buzzed underneath. His gaze was intense and when Atsumu drifted just above those judgmental eyes he found himself focusing on the two moles he had above one eyebrow. Hm.
Atsumu emerged from behind a row of potted trees and slid behind the counter, one hand on his hip as he smirked at the visitor. “So yer, Omi-kun?”
Kiyoomi took exactly three seconds to blink at Atsumu several times before pulling down the medical mask so it rested underneath his chin. His lips were pulled downward and Atsumu had the sneaking suspicion that that was it’s resting state. “Please, don’t call me that. My name is Sakusa.”
This drew an indecent snort from the florist, who crossed his arms while arching up one eyebrow. “Oh I know exactly who you are, Omi-kun. Yer clients are basically stealin’ my flowers. Didja know that? I would take it as a compliment that they want my buds on their skin, but it’s a slap in the face when they don’t even buy ‘em. Kinda yer fault there.”
More blinking, almost incredulous. Kiyoomi cleared his throat lightly and narrowed his eyes once more at Atsumu. “If you want an apology, it’s not necessarily my place to give one. I’m not stopping them from buying flowers. Speaking of which, would you care to do your job and sell me a bouquet?” There was a pause where Atsumu caught him glance away and he would dare say Kiyoomi looked sheepish. His gaze was back and there was a half whispered, “Please.”
Atsumu had to physically shake his head to get rid of the cloudiness that was entering his brain the longer he stared. Dammit, why did Osamu have to be right when he said Kiyoomi was pretty? Clearing away the fog, his fox-like grin spread onto his features and he gave a swift nod, “‘Course, Omi-kun. You can count on me for all yer botany needs. Somethin’ for a special lil lady?” He gave the question with a curious hum, ignoring the way Kiyoomi winced at the nick name, while leaning against the counter with a cock to his head.
“No, they’re for reference. And Komori keeps telling me I need to put something at the front desk to liven up the place. I’m just killing two birds with one stone.”
“Anythin’ in particular ya want?”
“A variety would be helpful, maybe less generic flowers. I’m pretty good at the common ones,” Kiyoomi coupled with a shrug.
“Alright, give me just a sec and you’ll have yer bouquet in no time,” Atsumu grinned, sweeping on a thick glove and grabbing a towel. He went about the shop, picking out a few flowers here and there, glancing back at the tattooist every so often before nodding in affirmation and choosing another blossom. Atsumu had gained a certain sense of pride over the years of studying plants and running a humble little flower shop. He had told anyone who would listen that he had a ‘floral sixth sense’ and could pick flowers for someone just based on their appearance or description. And while it seemed like a stupid comment he made for bragging purposes, nobody had ever complained when handing him over the reigns.
Once he had a considerable amount of flowers, Atsumu returned to the counter and set the towel of plants down, pulling off the glove to begin wrapping rubber bands around the stems. He was about to slip on the plastic covering when his hands stuttered their movements. “Do you think you could add these in?”
Looking up, Atsumu spotted a few of the lavender roses from the window display in Kiyoomi’s hands. Atsumu tilted his head in confusion but took them nonetheless, adding them to the bouquet and finishing the presentation with a plastic slip and little white bow for flourish. “Thought ya said you were good with the generic ones.”
“I am. I just like the color,” Kiyoomi mumbled, looking anywhere but at Atsumu. If he had to hazard a guess the florist would say he sounded fond. Atsumu nodded anyways, handing over the finished arrangement with a bright grin, wiping his hands against his apron once they were in Kiyoomi’s grip. “How much?”
“Hm?” Atsumu questioned.
“For the flowers, how much are they?” Kiyoomi shot back with a look of incredulity.
Atsumu waved his hand in front of him flippantly, clicking his tongue at the question. “You don’t owe me nothin’. First time in consider it a welcome to the block type gift.”
“You’re serious?”
“Positively serious.”
“Well, thank you.” Kiyoomi blinked a few times, as if considering whether or not he would hear a punchline. But after a moment of Atsumu’s unfaltering bright grin, he nodded curtly. The man pulled the medical mask back up to cover the bottom half of his face and turned on his heel to walk out the door. He only paused once he opened the door to turn over his shoulder and mutter a, “See you around,” before stepping out and disappearing into his own shop across the cobblestones.
Miya Atsumu did not believe in love at first sight… but Sakusa Kiyoomi was extremely enchanting.
Yellow Roses
friendship and caring, warmth and welcome
The moment Atsumu heard a crash and a loud yelp coming from inside the shop he bolted from the back room with a wild expression on his face. The panic immediately melted away when he was met with a wild head of orange hair and a pot shattered on the floor. “Shouyou-kun, whatcha doin’ here?”
The shorter boy, Hinata Shouyou, immediately picked up his head, blush crossing his cheeks at being discovered. “O-oh Atsumu-san!” He yelped, holding his hands behind his back and tossing his gaze to the mess at his feet, “I’m so sorry about the pot, I’ll pay for it!”
“Don’t worry about it, happens way more than ya think. I’ll clean it up in a second, but what brings ya by?”
Shouyou nodded slowly, stepping away from the pile of dirt and broken ceramic to approach the desk slowly, blush still high on his cheeks. “Well, uh… Tobio is getting a tattoo at that place across from you,” he muttered, jerking his thumb behind him to make it obvious, “and uh, he wanted to get sunflowers because he said they reminded him of me. Anyways the artist, Sakusa-san, he said he wouldn’t do it unless I bought a sunflower from you so he could have it for reference. Tobio got mad about it but Sakusa-san is scary, so I said I’d run over and get it but then I broke the pot and now I’m rambling and if I take too long then Tobio will get mad an-“
“Shouyou-kun, deep breaths,” Atsumu cut in, moving to the side of the store to grab a pre-wrapped bunch of sunflowers and setting them on the counter in front of Shouyou, “they’re ¥10,180.”
The shorter boy nodded slowly once more, seeming to catch his breath and slow his panic enough to pull the notes and coins from his wallet and slide them onto the counter, which Atsumu calmly takes and puts into the register with an easy smile. He takes a moment to collect the flowers and gives a wobbly smile as he gulps and slowly backs away before sparing a glance at the mess on the floor and looking back at Atsumu. “I was going to ask if you were still hiring but I feel like I missed that opportunity.”
“Don’t be silly, I could use the help around here and I know ya well enough to trust that was just some one off. Now get back to yer man before he comes to find ya,” he nods, settling into his seat behind the counter to prop up his chin on his hand, “come by tomorrow and we’ll talk about the job, yeah?”
Shouyou nodded quickly, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something more, eyes narrowing at Atsumu. He quickly snapped his mouth shut, his smile returning before he hustled out the door and into Kiyoomi’s tattoo parlor with his arms full of sunflowers.
A few hours and several customers later — business was rapidly picking up again, Atsumu finds a period of quiet to finally tend to the mess at the side of his store. He sweeps up all the dirt and ceramic pieces into the bin and sighs heavily as he wipes up the floor with a damp cloth to remove the traces of dust left over. It’s when he’s throwing away the little sapling that didn’t make out of the incident with any hope left that it dawned on him. He wouldn’t do it unless I bought a sunflower from you.
Something pleasantly warm filled his chest and he felt himself become lighter if that was possible. Atsumu knew Kiyoomi was good at the generic types, and there were very few flowers more generic than sunflowers. Just the mere suggestion that Kiyoomi had told his clients who wanted flower tattoos to go buy the flower they wanted put a smile on his face. Come to think of it, Atsumu had noticed a few people buying a single type of flower bouquet and then go across the pavement to the tattoo parlor but the florist had marked them as unrelated. Now, thinking back to what Shouyou had said in his rambling, it connected many dots and his heart seemed to thump twice as fast. And when did that start happening. It had only been a few weeks since Kiyoomi had opened up across the way and he’d had maybe two more conversations with him and a few fleeting words in passing. That was not nearly enough to induce his heart rate picking up at the mere thought of him.
Atsumu shook his head as he returned to his spot behind the counter and drummed his fingers on the tabletop absentmindedly, glancing behind himself at the large clock on the wall. He squinted at the offending object like it had personally wronged him, sighing at the fact he still had two hours left before he could close.
Attention stolen by the bell above the door ringing, signaling a customer, he turned back with a grin. He opened his mouth to speak but was once again shocked to find Kiyoomi standing in his shop, medical mask covering his face, but with a sketchbook held in his hands. “Omi-kun! Good to see ya so soon. Hey I’d been meanin’ to ask, but do ya always wear that mask? Every time we talk it’s on yer face whether yer workin’ or not. You a germaphobe or somethin’?”
The onslaught of sound left Kiyoomi slightly taken aback. His face seemed to screw up into a distasteful expression and his grip around the sketchbook tightened. “You could say that,” he eventually answered, sounding completely unamused. “The fact that I can wear it at work without anybody questioning it was a plus.”
The conversation halted there and Atsumu gave a dreamy sigh to break the silence, “Always so put together Omi-kun. It’s nice to hear that even the perfect, pretty ones like you have some weird thing that proves yer human like the rest of us.” What? Did Atsumu really just say that? He mentally cursed himself for shoving his foot this far in his mouth and was about to attempt to fumble around some way to get away from what he said when Kiyoomi placated him easily.
“How many times do I have ask before you stop calling me that? I do prefer to be called Sakusa, you don’t hear me going around giving you a nickname, Miya.”
“Well ya should. I happen to love nicknames, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu drawled, still fighting away the embarrassment flushing his face.
Kiyoomi seemed to physically shiver, “That one is even worse.”
“Just admit ya like it.”
“Then I would be lying and I’m trying to start this friendship with the basis of honesty.”
Atsumu paused, retort on the tip of his tongue. His eyes widened for a moment as he leaned forward to make sure he actually heard that right. “I’m sorry did you just say ya wanted to be friends with me?”
“Unfortunately. Please don’t make me take back the proposal, I just thought it would make sense considering our proximity.”
“Omi-kun wants to be friends with me,” Atsumu singsonged with a wide grin that could put the sun to shame, unabashedly bright. His eyes raked over Kiyoomi for a moment before settling on the object on his hands. “Are ya gonna buy some more flowers or..?”
Kiyoomi shifted his weight slightly, clearing his throat softly before glancing somewhere to the right of Atsumu and narrowing his eyes. His gaze didn’t shift but he just finally respond with, “Actually, I was hoping to ask a favor. Could I sketch the flowers here? I won’t make any fuss and it’s just for practice. My schedule is clear the rest of the day and I would like to fill the time doing something of use.”
“Well considerin’ we’re friends now, of course ya can!” The florist paused, eyes closing halfway as he laughed to himself, “Maybe it’d be good to brush up on the sunflowers.”
Kiyoomi’s eyes went uncharacteristically wide before his face settled back to its neutral state. “I assume the one that came in with Kageyama-kun told you what I said,” he paused waiting for affirmation, and when Atsumu gave a giddy nod he continued. “You happen to be correct in thinking I didn’t need the reference, but I remembered you saying people weren’t buying the flowers before coming in so I just decided that if they wanted flowers they should bring me the ones they wanted. Don’t make a big deal out of it, Miya. Now I’ll make myself scarce.”
With that, the artist opened the sketchbook and pulled one of the many sketching tools from the inside, wandering to a vacant stool in the corner of the store and busying himself with picking a plant and quietly starting to sketch. Atsumu allowed himself thirty seconds to stare without remorse before pulling his eyes away and pulling out the book he uses to press flowers from behind the desk. He lazily opened it, grabbing a pen and labelling the newer additions near the end, the flowers having finally dried out enough to pin. He sighed quietly, stopping at the most recent which he had pressed this morning, the yellow roses from the display in front. He smirked to himself as the meaning entered his thoughts and he couldn’t help the euphoria that filled him. Friends. They had a label to a relationship now, and the thought of that alone stirred Atsumu.
Two hours later and multiple transactions of all types, Atsumu finally found himself free from the day. He stood up, reaching his arms over his head until a resounding crack filled the tiny space sourced from his spine. He groaned with content and glanced over to the corner to find Kiyoomi still sitting there, but with his mask pulled down and expression intensely concentrated at the page he was working on. He glanced up for a moment only to find that Atsumu was already looking at him.
“Ya know, I noticed you kept lookin’ at me a couple time in the last thirty minutes, do I got somethin’ on my face or do you just like the view?” Atsumu asked loudly, grin as present as always.
“You have a flower in your hair,” Kiyoomi shot back without missing a beat.
“I have a- huh?!” Atsumu screeched harshly, reaching up to touch his ear and sure as ever, there was a fully bloomed yellow rose that had been tucked into his hair without notice. “I guess it got there when I was doin’ the front and forgot.”
“You always seem to have flowers in you hair, full ones or just petals. It’s messy,” Kiyoomi muttered rather bluntly.
“Always?”
“Always.”
“Well, damn. Ya never thought to say somethin’ before? I thought we were friends, Omi-kun.”
“We are friends. As of today. And don’t be mistaken, it’s a proximity thing.”
“Whatever ya say, Omi-kun. But I am gonna have to kick ya out. I gotta close up and I’d hate to keep ya from gettin’ away from all my germs or whatever,” Atsumu laughed out, swiping a rag across the counter before stuffing it in his apron pocket and untying it to remove from around his neck. Atsumu glanced over to catch Kiyoomi quickly adding a few more scribbles then shutting the sketchbook and pulling his mask onto his face. It seemed innocent enough but it hid the smile that teetered onto his lips.
“Thank you, again,” He muttered, standing from his spot and moving towards the door.
“If you want yer always welcome here, and I’m gettin’ some new summer types soon. They’d be fun to draw when they’re fully bloomed, I think.”
“I’ll consider that.”
Atsumu found Kiyoomi’s eyes and there were a few moments where they seemed to just stare at each other, Atsumu grinning like a lovestruck fool — which he would never admit — and Kiyoomi’s expression softening lightly. When the seconds drew too long the tattoo artist bowed his head lightly and walked out the door, leaving Atsumu behind to finish locking up his shop and sigh loudly in his solitude.
What was Sakusa Kiyoomi doing to him?
Orange Roses
passion, intense desire, fascination
They had settled into a sort of routine. Every few days Kiyoomi would stop by when he didn’t have any clients lined up and would sketch in the corner of the shop while Atsumu tended to the customers. When it was empty they would hold steady conversation and if you asked Atsumu he would say that Kiyoomi was warming up to him remarkably fast.
Kiyoomi learned that Atsumu grew up with his mom loving to garden and cook, and him and his brother had each taken their own interest in one of the two. That Atsumu actually studied botany and business in college and finished with a degree. He didn’t even bother hiding the smile when Atsumu told him he donated to wild life foundations once a month.
On the other hand, Atsumu learned several things about Kiyoomi. Most importantly that his favorite flowers were orchids. He found out that he didn’t discover drawing until high school but practiced until he got good at realism. He went to college for a year but dropped out when he was offered an apprenticeship with a very good tattoo artist who showed him the ropes. How he got good and after he was able to earn his keep opened up his own parlor. He also discovered that the germ thing was actually Mysophobia, and having discovered the joy that was being able to wear a mask, gloves, and use only sanitized equipment while working as a tattoo artist combatted the issue.
It was easy. That’s what Atsumu could take away from this. Being friends with Kiyoomi was easy. But the problem was, the longer he was friends with Kiyoomi, the more he figured he wanted to be something far more intimate. There was something about the way he wanted to be the one to break Kiyoomi’s disinterested look into a smile, or how nice it was to watch him focusing on whatever he was drawing. He never got to see the finished products but from the tattoos he saw littering Kiyoomi’s arms whenever he wore a short sleeve, he was sure they were beautiful. It had only been a handful of months really, but Atsumu was falling and he wasn’t sure if there was any way he could possibly catch himself.
But they had settled into routine, and that was enough for now.
“Can’t believe yer friends with Sakusa-san. How’d ya manage that, ‘Tsumu?”
Atsumu groaned at the question, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “Shut yer mouth, ‘Samu. Is it really hard to believe people like me?”
“Do ya actually want me to answer that?”
The response left Atsumu gaping, promptly shoulder checking his brother out of the way to walk to the back door. “Just watch the front for a minute, I need to go get the dahlias from the back. I’m tired of starin’ at yer ugly mug.”
When Atsumu slipped through to the back room he heard the faint shout of, “We have the same face,” but he made no effort to listen. Instead, he found himself rummaging through the space until he found the large crate of bloomed dahlias and hoisted it up, smiling at the blossoms and taking a moment just to inhale their fragrance. He nodded with a smile, walking back into the main shop and stopping in the door way when a familiar voice enters his ears.
“Did you change your hair, Miya?”
A smile spreads over his face when he hears Kiyoomi speaking, unable to prevent the warmth that rushes over his skin at the man’s presence.
“I hate to admit it, but the blonde suits you better.”
Atsumu can’t contain the laughter the bubbles out of him, loud and bright. He approaches the pair and places the crate of flowers on the counter to lightly nudge Osamu out of the way. “Aw, ‘Samu don’t be upset. We all can’t have shockingly good looks.” The florist takes a moment to let his laughter calm down, smiling warmly at Kiyoomi before gesturing to his brother, “Omi-kun, this is my twin, Osamu. ‘Samu, this is Sakusa from the tattoo place. Hey! Now that you know two Miya’s yer gonna have to give me a nickname.”
Kiyoomi only shook his head, mask still hiding the smirk that had betrayed his face. He nodded at Osamu in acknowledgement, pointedly ignoring Atsumu. “Nice to meet you, Osamu-kun.”
“Ah, just Osamu is fine. Good to finally meetcha, too. This one won’t shut up about ya, and Rin loves yer work. Speakin’ of, I gotta get these to him,” Osamu chirped, grabbing the stack of pictures from the counter and waving them for clairification. “I’ll let ya know what he picks, ‘Tsumu.” With that Osamu walked out, glancing over his shoulder and mouthing ‘Omi-kun?’ with a knowing grin before slipping out of the shop.
“Your brother seems to have gotten the better genes.” Kiyoomi quipped, pulling down his mask to rest under his chin and reveal the rare teasing smirk.
“Nah, Omi-Omi. Ya can’t pull that on me, I heard ya tell him ya like my golden locks.”
“It was a momentary lapse in judgement.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes, but the little smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth made him look arguably fond. He went about pulling the dahlias from the crate to put them out on display among the orange roses. “I’m sorry ‘bout him just boltin’. He’s gettin’ married in the winter and had to rub it in my face by makin’ me design all the flower arrangements. Though I know I’d be mad if he went anywhere else so I can’t really complain.”
He had to admit that his brother getting married to Rintarou was a development that he was more than excited for. Rintarou was basically family already, so making it official was just the cherry on top. But he couldn’t deny how painfully alone it would often times make him feel. He hadn’t had a long term relationship in years and he always put it off by saying he was waiting for the right person. In reality, he just hadn’t managed to stop from making a fool out of himself to find an actual relationship. And now there was Kiyoomi.
“I don’t mind. I’m unsure if I would be able to handle two of you at once,” the artist replied smoothly, retreating to his usual stool and seemed to hesitate before grabbing the seat and moving it to the back corner closer to the counter rather than the front door. He promptly sat down and flipped open his sketchbook, eyes locking onto the dahlia’s and immediately starting to draw. Atsumu brushed it off and chalked it up to wanting a better angle to see the new flowers but he couldn’t help the delighted little tingle in his chest.
“Say, Omi-kun,” Atsumu finally muttered when the last customer walked out and he begun cleaning the space in preparation to close. He didn’t dare look at Kiyoomi, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’ and taking off his apron to hang on a hook against the back wall. He got a soft hum in response to indicate the artist was still listening despite the sounds of pencil on paper. “You think you’d ever let me see what ya draw?”
The silence that followed felt unbearably heavy and Atsumu sucked in a nervous breath, finally bringing himself to glance at Kiyoomi and —
Sakusa Kiyoomi is smiling..?
Atsumu has to blink several times and even resorts to pinching himself on his hip but when nothing changes he almost gapes. Kiyoomi, sitting and staring at his lap with a genuine smile. His medical mask still tucked underneath his chin and his lip lightly curled up, eyes soft, and cheeks possibly dusted pink. A soft whine that involuntarily leaves Atsumu’s mouth pulls Kiyoomi’s attention and he turns to lock eyes with the florist, smile still present.
“Sure.”
Atsumu’s breath hitches at how soft Kiyoomi sounds and his brows furrow momentarily. He forces himself out of his daze and manages to return the smile, hesitant and nervous. “Now?” He mutters after noticing Kiyoomi had made no attempt to move.
“Why don’t you lock up and I’ll walk you home.”
“Ya sure?”
“Positively sure.”
Atsumu laughs lightly, essentially ridding himself of the pressure on his chest from the sense of deja vu, and nods lightly. He quickly fishes out his keys from under the counter and flips off the light switch, opening the door to let Kiyoomi walk through before following him out and pausing to lock the door. He turns to begin walking, falling in step with Kiyoomi who has pulled up his mask and tucked his sketch book under his arm.
“Omi-kun?”
“Hm?”
“Do ya think maybe…” Atsumu trails off, nibbling on his bottom lip while debating if he should finish the sentence.
“Maybe what, Miya?” Kiyoomi glances to his side, no malice in his tone.
“Maybe you could design a tattoo for me? I’ve been thinkin’ of gettin’ one.”
“I’ll think about it,” and the smile is evident in his voice.
They walk in silence for a bit longer, fleeting glances exchanged between them. Atsumu removes his arms from their place in his jacket pockets and he raises his chin to watch stars appear in the sky and decides to force himself to stop being worried about his thoughts.
“Hey, Omi-kun?” He starts again.
“Yes, Miya?”
“Can I hold yer hand?”
The florist audibly gulps, instantly wanting to take back the question and cursing himself for being an idiot and a fool again. However, his thoughts seem to disappear when he feels Kiyoomi’s pinky hook around his own.
Gardenias
sweetness, secret love
When Miya Atsumu traipses into Kiyoomi’s tattoo parlor in the middle of the day without a care in the world, as if it’s the most normal thing on earth, Kiyoomi almost misses the ear he was in the middle of piercing. He doesn’t miss, taking a moment to compose himself as he finishes the usual spiel about aftercare to his client before getting up and approaching him at the front desk where he’s making lively conversation with Motoya.
“—and the look on Sunarin’s face— Oh, Omi-kun!” Atsumu’s grin broadened, pushing out of his leaning stance and giving a tiny wave to the tattooist.
“Miya? What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be working?” Kiyoomi questioned lightly, eyes spotting the vase of flowers on the desk that weren’t there previously. He lightly tapped Motoya’s shoulder, gloves still on, and gestured to his client. The shorter man nodded and excused himself.
“Ah, well,” Atsumu muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. “I wanted to bring by some flowers because you mentioned that thing about livening up the place. They’re gardenias. Pretty right? Kinda like you, Omi-Omi. Ya know, they’re real finicky and are such a fuss to grow but they’re worth it in the end.”
There was no mistaking the light blush that had appeared on Kiyoomi’s face. It was lucky that his mask was covering most of it. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here now , Miya. You could’ve waited until closing, or asked me to come get it.”
“It was nothin’ really. I hired Shouyou-kun a while back so he’s watchin’ the shop for me. Plus I realized you always hang out with me but I’ve never stepped foot in here.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. The flowers, I mean.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to just compliment me to my face, Omi-kun.”
“Yeah, when Earth stops turning.”
The pair took a beat of silence, Atsumu grinning widely like he couldn’t be more pleased with himself. Without waiting for an invite, the florist started walking deeper into the parlor, finding an empty leather seat for clients getting tattoos, and dropped himself into it, glad to find Kiyoomi following after him. The artist sat down in the stool next to him, narrowing his eyes slightly. He seemed like he was about to speak before grabbing his sketch book from the work table beside him and flipping it open to a page somewhere in the middle. He propped it up against his knee and turned it away when Atsumu tried to lean over and peek.
After a few weeks Kiyoomi had mentioned off handedly that he had started on a couple design ideas for Atsumu’s potential tattoo. He asked questions to determine what Atsumu would like, but the blond would always just tell him to do what felt right and draw whatever he’d like. Essentially, he offered himself up as a personal canvas. After that Kiyoomi refused to show him the impending tattoo and that he could ‘see it when it’s on your stupid arm.’
Atsumu busied himself in the silence with his phone, absently humming to the song playing through the tattoo parlor’s speakers and stealing glances at Kiyoomi while he focused on the task before him. Beside him, Kiyoomi inhaled harshly and his brow furrowed in frustration before he looked up and narrowed his eyes at Atsumu’s profile.
“Atsumu.”
The florist’s eyes widened immediately, and he whipped his head to the side, locking eyes with Kiyoomi as if trying to figure out whether he had actually heard his given name come out of his mouth.
“Yeah?” He finally managed to choke out, refusing to blink in case this turned out to be a dream.
“What are your favorite flowers?” Kiyoomi asked, unfazed by the behavior happening in front of him.
“Peonies.”
“Hm, okay.”
The artist returned to his drawing and Atsumu found he could tell there was some sort of smile underneath the medical mask. He willed himself to breathe normally, slowly settling back into the seat. Atsumu had practically been begging Kiyoomi to call him something other than ‘Miya’ for months now. Practically since the day their friendship began. The way his given name sounded coming from the man could be considered an experience all alone. He even wanted to think it had an undertone of affection.
“Done,” Kiyoomi proclaimed, dropping aside his sketch book and holding up a completed stencil with an affirmative nod. He waved his hand towards Atsumu, and went about changing his gloves to fresh ones and producing a sterilized gun. Atsumu followed suit by rolling up the sleeve of his shirt over his shoulder and smiling brightly as he leaned back into the chair. Kiyoomi disinfected his upper arm once it was exposed to him and transferred on the stencil, nodding at the placement and picking up the gun. “Hold still and don’t hold your breath.”
Throughout the tattoo process, Atsumu seemed to do well. The pain was very apparent but he held up his own and got through by squeezing the chair with his opposite hand. It was also helpful that he could glance at Kiyoomi and lose himself in the focus, coupled with Kiyoomi pausing every so often to check in on him. When it was finally finished, Kiyoomi wiped off the area lightly, and leaned back to admire his work. The artist pulled off the gloves and lowered his mask, eyes brighter than Atsumu had ever seen.
“Can I finally look, oh wonderful Sakusa-sama?” With a laugh that sent a rush down Atsumu’s spine and an affirmative nod, Atsumu stood and found himself in front of a mirror. He stepped close and turned, lifting his arm a bit to finally see what he just permanently put onto his skin. When he saw the tattoo his mouth opened in awe and he couldn’t help the delighted coo that left his mouth. On his arm was the profile view of a red and orange fox, sitting with it’s ears up and tail curled around itself. Surrounding it like a patch of grass and blooming into a sky were soft yellow peony petals. Atsumu whirled around, looking at Kiyoomi like he held the sun in the sky with his own two hands.
“Do you like it?” Kiyoomi questioned, voice muddled with nerves
“Yer kiddin’, right? I fuckin’ love it, Omi-kun. It’s perfect, thank you.”
Quickly walking Atsumu through the process of taking care of the tattoo, Kiyoomi wrapped it up in plastic wrap and then ushered him out the door. “Now get back to work, that poor kid has probably destroyed four things already.”
“He’s fine,” Atsumu drawled, leaning against the door frame persistently. “I’ll see ya after closin’, right? You promised me I could take ya to dinner.”
“Yes, Atsumu, you’ll see me. But only if you actually go work.”
Atsumu smiled coyly. He lifted his hand and paused, knuckles hovering over Kiyoomi’s cheekbones. He cocked his head and Kiyoomi sighed quietly before leaning in and brushing against the touch. Atsumu’s heart skipped a beat and he bit down on his bottom lip for purchase. The florist stepped back, giving a light and playful wave before bounding outside and across to his own storefront. He whirled around and found Kiyoomi still looking at him, he threw a wink and slid into the flower shop.
“Hey, Shouyou-kun! Wanna see my new ink?”
Red Roses
unmistakable expression of love
Kiyoomi entered Atsumu’s flower shop with more energy than he had ever seen from the tattoo artist before. He was breathing heavily with a mask nowhere in sight, and his cheeks a bit flushed like he had sprinted across the cobblestones to make it before Atsumu closed the shop. The florist, however, was still sitting at the counter, pressing flowers in his book; unaware of the fact that it was two minutes until closing. He lifted his head at the sudden entrance and quirked an eyebrow, standing up and meeting Kiyoomi in the middle.
“Omi-kun? Is everythin’ alright? You look crazed.”
“I wanted… to catch you…. before you left,” Kiyoomi ground out, still catching his breath.
“I thought you said you’d be stayin’ late at work.”
“I was, but I finished up in time, just…” Kiyoomi paused, standing up straight and grinning lopsidedly. The artist cleared his throat and brushed off his front of nonexistent dust in order to make himself more professional. “Lock the door, I have something to show you and I know you’re supposed to be closed but I don’t want anybody walking in and— don’t look at me like that, Atsumu. It’s nothing like what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, okay,” Atsumu couldn’t help but almost giggle as he pushed the lewd thoughts from his brain, pulling his keys from his pocket and locking the front door and flipping the sign. When he turned around Kiyoomi was flipping off the main lights but leaving the fairy lights up that lined the walls kept the room lit but established a mood.
Kiyoomi gave a steely breath and unzipped his coat, draping it over the counter, then proceeded to pull his shirt over his head. At the questioning stare that Atsumu shot his way, he simply lifted his hand and turned around. Atsumu pitched a gasp and stepped forward, centimeters away from Kiyoomi’s back. Running from the right side of his mid back and spilling over his shoulder was a tattoo filled with at least five different flowers, melting into each other like they were growing into each new type. Atsumu could make out: daffodils, lavender roses, yellow roses, orange roses, gardenias, peonies, orchids, and red roses.
“Kiyoomi,” the florist spoke the name like he was breathing, “can I… I mean is it okay if I touch ya?” The man in question nodded slowly and Atsumu reached out but stopped himself short. “Say it so I know yer okay with it.”
Kiyoomi’s face broke into a smile and light tears pricked his eyes, he was thankful his back was turned. “Yes, you can touch me, Atsumu.”
With the verbal confirmation, Atsumu timidly brushed his fingers over the colored skin, fingers barely ghosting over the expanse of his back where the flowers were blooming. Kiyoomi shivered lightly at the touch but quickly threw out concern and assured it was fine. Atsumu slowly made his way over each petal and stem until he got to the shoulder, he lightly pulled, turning Kiyoomi to face him.
“They’re our favorite flowers coupled with the ones you’ve had on display since I’ve moved in that have significant meaning to me, and the ones you’ve gifted to me.”
“I never gave ya red roses,” Atsumu protested, but his face was filled with unmistakable delight and adoration.
“No, but you know what they mean,” Atsumu nodded in response. “I may have gone and fallen in love with you, Miya Atsumu. You’re loud, and brash, and quite frankly a fool. However, you’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I feel okay around you unlike most people. You’re also the first person who I’ve wanted to touch and let touch me. And even then you always ask, which I’m incredibly grateful for. So, if you’ll have me, I’d like to be your boyfriend.”
Atsumu gaped, letting his mouth fall open, and stared wildly at Kiyoomi. The artist glanced down at his feet, hands wringing over each other nervously. “I can’t believe you asked me to be yer boyfriend before I could ask you.” Kiyoomi glanced up expectantly, eyes filled with hope. “Don’t look at me like that Omi-kun, of course I’ll be yer boyfriend. I’ve been in love with ya for like, months now.”
Kiyoomi smiled warmly, blush appearing high on his ivory cheeks. The warmth spreading across his face did nothing to combat the chill that ran down his face and he quickly reached for his shirt and coat, pulling them back on and sighing contentedly at the coverage. Atsumu watched him with the brightest grin he could muster, his chest pooling with emotion. He couldn’t believe that the man standing in front of him was officially his boyfriend and had gotten a tattoo for him.
“Kiyoomi.”
“Atsumu.”
“I’d like to kiss ya now, if you’ll let me.”
With a beat of silence to think, Kiyoomi tentatively placed his hand on either side of Atsumu’s face and pulled him in, connecting their lips softly. It was a barely there kiss, just the pressing of lips with no urgency or heat, but filled with warmth and all the ability to convey just what they were feeling. Atsumu broke it off first, pulling back and admiring the way Kiyoomi’s cheeks looked all flushed. Kiyoomi reached down and threaded their hands together, squeezing lightly. Atsumu and Kiyoomi walked out of the flower shop together, walking towards Atsumu’s apartment and soaking in each other’s presence when Atsumu gasped and pulled his phone from his pocket. Kiyoomi glanced over in question and watched as Atsumu pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring twice before the line connected.
“Hey, ‘Samu. I have a date to yer wedding.”