Chapter Text
“Firefly, dear.”
Kafka’s voice rings out of Firefly’s phone. The silver-blonde girl responds with a hum as she puts her boss (and basically mom) on speaker phone whilst she’s making dinner. It isn’t unusual for Kafka to call at night, half the time it’s to check up on her basically daughter (Kafka had, technically, legally, adopted her and Silver Wolf years ago) who has a bad habit of forgetting to take care of herself. But to be fair, she’s much better than than her roommate who forgets to eat on days end when she gets really into a game or streaming. It makes Firefly really wonder why Silver Wolf chooses to work at the flower shop when she could just make a living off streaming. That’s how she pays most of their rent anyway.
“Yes?” she responds, stirring the eggs in the pan. Easy and simple recipes were the way to go. They were quick, delicious, and had plenty of nutrition (something that Silver Wolf needed).
“I need you to take on a job for the shop,” Kafka said. “Do you remember the man who asked us to arrange some flowers for a photoshoot?”
“Mr. Gallagher?” Firefly asked. She remembers him, it was kind of difficult not to. He was a tall and noticeably built with messy shoulder-length brown hair and some stubble. She was the one who greeted him him before referring him to Kafka and Elio about his request.
“Yes, him. Elio and I have to keep an eye on the shop. Bladie said he couldn’t make it to the shoot, and well… we know how Wolfie can be with these things,” Kafka explained. “If it’s not too much trouble, dear, could you take on the job?”
“Not at all, Kafka,” Firefly replied. She didn’t mind, truly. Being around flowers was calming for her, it helped her breathe easier. She didn’t mind the change of scenery outside of the flower shop anyway. And, she had always been interested in behind the scenes of photoshoots and whatnot anyway.
“Ah, thank you, Firefly,” Kafka said, appreciative. “I’ll make sure to send you all the details before next week.”
“It’s not a problem,” Firefly smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Always,” and Kafka hung up.
Firefly made sure to make room in her schedule for the photoshoot. She was kind of excited at the idea of working at a professional site with someone famous. Who wouldn’t feel just a bit excited at the prospect?
She took out some bowls for her and Silver Wolf, and just in time her roommate came out of her room, looking tired. The petite girl yawned, rubbing her eyes, maybe she just woke up from a nap? Her sleeping hours were really weird. Firefly has recalled on multiple occasions waking up before sunrise for her morning workout to find Silver Wolf on her computer, having not moved an inch since Firefly last saw her the night before. It’s worrying to be honest, but alas, Silver Wolf was the one with the better immune system and normal (for the most part) bodily functions, so who was she to say anything?
“Was that Kafka?” Silver Wolf yawned as she pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter. She sat up on it and Firefly put down a bowl of food before her face with some water. Her best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of fresh food.
“It was,” Firefly confirmed, putting away her apron and washing up the last of the dirty dishes. “Ren couldn’t make it for the photoshoot thing he was supposed to work on, so she’s having me do it.”
“Mm,” Silver Wolf nodded, about seconds away from drifting off. Firefly giggled at her best friend’s antics. They had known each other since forever actually. If she's remembering correctly they met when she was eight and when Silver Wolf was nine. She’s very used to Silver Wolf being active in the god awful hours of the night.
“Eat, Wolfie,” Firefly says, poking the other girl’s forehead. She sits down beside Silver Wolf, “Before your food goes cold.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
—
Firefly likes flowers.
That was part of the reason she took up a florist position. She was probably starting high school then, or at least finishing her last year of middle school. She took up the offer because those Elio and Kafka had done so much for her, she felt like she needed to repay them in some way. They were basically her parents in a way, if she had parents, she figured the bond would feel like what she has with Kafka and Elio.
And also Silver Wolf begged her to. Something about not wanting to suffer with Kafka alone? She doesn’t recall, but she’s pretty sure it had everything to do with Kafka coddling her. But Firefly knows that her best friend secretly enjoys being coddled.
The flower shop was where they met Blade for the first time. Apparently Kafka and Elio had just casually picked him off the side of the road like it was nothing (Firefly wonders how, but then she really thinks about it, she decides it's better not to ask). Blade was quiet but it didn't take long for him to assimilate.
In the mornings, she’s usually working in the nursery, watering the flowers and checking for any harmful bugs. This is probably her favorite part of work, being able to preserve and cultivate life like this. Each and every blossom is a different life that is special and she wants nothing more than to keep those blossoms alive until they wilt and are reborn once more.
Maybe that’s just a really poetic way of saying that caring for these flowers makes her forget about her sins, even if it’s just for a second.
“Fireflyyyyy,” Silver Wolf whines, breaking through the silver-blonde girl’s thoughts. She enters the nursery and Firefly looks up, “You’re thinking again.”
“I’m always thinking, though?” Firefly gives a confused look as she sets the watering can down.
“But, you’re thinking,” Silver Wolf says as if that would make it make sense.
It doesn’t make sense.
“What?” Firefly blinks.
Silver Wolf sighs. She walks right up to Firefly and pinches at the taller girl’s cheeks, stretching her face.
"Owww," Firefly whines.
“Stop thinking,” the silver haired girl says, "dumbass."
“Wolfwie, that huwrts,” Firefly tries to say as best as she can with Silver Wolf pinching her cheeks. She sighs, letting go but not without a flick to the forehead. Firefly pouts, “Meanie.”
“Every time you come in here and don’t come out after like thirty minutes, I know you’re thinking,” Silver Wolf states, arms crossed, an unhappy expression on her face. Firefly averts her eyes, dejected because she's right. Of course she is, they’ve been friends for so long, why wouldn’t Silver Wolf know all her tendencies like Firefly knows hers?
“Sorry,” Firefly mumbles.
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Silver Wolf sighs. “It’s not your fault, it never was.”
“But still-”
“Uh puh puh,” Silver Wolf interrupts her, shoving a finger in her face. “Nuh uh. Not your fault. Orders were orders, what else could you do? You were like five.”
“Nine. You’re only a year older than me,” Firefly corrected. But Silver Wolf was right, she was young and impressionable and followed orders from her superiors without question. Silver Wolf was the same too. They suffered through the same experiences even if Firefly was on the frontlines and Silver Wolf stayed behind computer screens.
But even then, sometimes Firefly will look at her hands and all she can see is-
“Hey,” Silver Wolf waves a hand in front of her face, “I know it’s hard to forget, but it’s over, right?”
“It’s been over,” Firefly breathes. “For years, it has.”
“A decade,” Silver Wolf adds. “I thank Kafka and Elio everyday for it.”
“You don’t actually,” the silver-blonde says lightly.
Silver Wolf looks at her, “Yeah, I thank cat-Elio.”
“You don’t thank, Kafka?” Firefly teases.
“I thank Ms. Himeko over Kafka, actually,” Silver Wolf states. “I love Ms. Himeko.”
“We all do,” Firefly laughs. “You aren’t special.”
“Rude ass,” the petite girl complains. “Anyway, so can you go out to the front and deal with the NPCs? Elio’s playing with cat-Elio, and I’m sick and tired of the stupid questlines.”
“What are you talking about?” Firefly then asks, but this time she actually has no idea what Silver Wolf’s talking about.
“You know that asshat from like last week who was buying flowers for his girlfriend or something and just told us to throw something together?” she asked and Firefly nodded slowly. She remembers most, if not all, of the bouquets she’s made. All of them were made with a piece of her soul, ensuring that the perfect message was conveyed as she was asked.
And well, she also tends to remember some of their more… eccentric customers.
“Well dipshit's back! And it’s for a different girl. The pic he showed of his ‘girl’ is a different girl from last time!” Silver Wolf exclaims and Firefly winces. “Ten bucks he’s cheating.”
“I’m not betting. He’s probably cheating or is just bad at keeping relationships,” Firefly grimaces. “Why don’t we just let Kafka handle him? She’s good at scaring off people.”
Silver Wolf makes a face, “That woman? Firefly, you sure? We’re not tryna kill the man.”
“Wolfie, she’s literally our mom.”
“But it’s totally plausible, and let’s not even talk about letting Ren handle him.”
—
“Silver Wolf! I’m heading out, okay? Make sure to feed SAM-”
“I can’t believe you named that thing ‘SAM’.”
Firefly pouted, putting her tote bag over her shoulder. Today was day one of the photoshoot. She doesn't have a car herself and so she was heading out to the flower shop today to grab a ride with Kafka to the location
“He’s not a thing! He’s a bunny and his name is SAM!” Firefly protested and Silver Wolf gave her this exasperated look.
Like she can be exasperated, the amount of times Firefly had to carry her and tuck her into bed because she fell asleep at her desk was too many to count. And also all the times she took customers for her because she was busy with her games was too many. Literally not too long ago, Silver Wolf made her swap jobs with her so that she wouldn't have to talk to people!
If anything, Firefly should be the exasperated one.
“What does that even stand for?” Silver Wolf asked, crossing her arms. “I know for sure his name isn’t just ‘SAM’ in all uppercase for no reason.”
“Supreme Analytical Matrices.”
“What the absolute fuck.”
—
Firefly gets to the shop in record time. Blade’s already at the counter, talking to a customer. He looks up, acknowledging her with a nod as she enters, Firefly returns the gesture and heads into the nurseries where Kafka is. Cat-Elio wanders around the nursery as Kafka takes her time tending to the flowers. Firefly’s presence is known the moment she enters, her boss looks up with a smile.
“There you are,” Kafka greets. She looks at Firefly’s outfit, intrigued. It’s a little nicer than what she’d usually wear, a sweater over a blouse and some of her nicer black slacks. “Look at you, all dressed up.”
“Kind of unusual, right?” Firefly asked, with a small laugh. She toys with the strap of her tote bag, “I figured the photoshoot would be something a bit more… professional?”
“You look lovely, dear,” Kafka assures. She pulls off her gardening gloves and reaches to fix a loose strand of hair for Firefly, “I assume you’re ready? The shipment of flowers should already be there, you just need to make them look pretty.”
“I’m great at that,” Firefly states, causing Kafka to chuckle a little. The older woman takes off her apron and they head out of the nursery together to the break room for Kafka to grab her keys so they could drive over to the shooting location.
“Kafka, do you know who the singer I’m going to be working with is?” she asks as the red wine haired woman hangs up her apron.
Kafka pauses momentarily, thinking about how much she should reveal. The older woman was always one to leave out information to make sure things were a surprise, Firefly knows as much. She’s known Kafka for far too long to not know that. So that’s why when the older woman looks back at her with a suspicious smile, she can’t help but be concerned.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kafka hums, reaching to pat Firefly’s head.
Firefly pouts, “Kafkaaa.”
Kafka laughs and pulls on her coat and grabs her sunglasses, “You’ll find out soon.” She jingles her car keys, “Shall we get going?”
—
The car ride to the shoot is fine. Firefly talks about her classes and the antics she’s watched her friends: Stelle, March, and Dan Heng get up to. Notably, it was really just Stelle and March getting up to suspicious activity and Dan Heng making sure they weren’t getting arrested. Although, half the time it is just Stelle digging around in trash cans and March and Dan Heng trying to stop her. And about the other half of the time, Firefly just catches Mr. Welt lecturing the trio on proper campus etiquette.
Kafka laughed at that, pretty fond of the troublemaker trio as they were Himeko’s pseudo adopted kids as they were employees of her coffee shop, Astral Cafe. Kafka adds small anecdotes about Himeko and her married life. To be honest, Firefly always enjoyed listening to Kafka talk about her wife. Just the way her eyes lit up and filled with adoration was just a kind and heartwarming sight.
“Oh! This is Robin’s new upcoming album,” Firefly exclaims when an ad comes on the car radio.
Kafka raises an eyebrow as they turn a corner towards some big entertainment buildings, “Ah, really now? It sounds nice.”
“Right??” Firefly can’t help but gush. She’s a big fan of Robin and her work. The idol was just such an inspiration with lovely music, a great voice, and a sweet personality. Not to mention how pretty she was.
Overall, Firefly could say she was a fan.
(Silver Wolf would say that maybe she’s a bit too much of a fan.)
“She has such a nice voice, I can’t wait for her album to drop soon. They’re starting shooting for her album photos I think,” Firefly states and Kafka hums, a sign that she’s listening. They pull into the parking lot of some fancy-looking building.
“Here we are,” Kafka says, shifting the car to park. “I wish I could come with you, but our flower shop isn’t going to take care of itself. Bladie can handle the work, but running everything by himself can be hard for him.”
She gets it, manning a whole flower shop by yourself can be difficult, especially for Blade since he’s not really the most social. Blade was great at putting together the prettiest bouquets and arrangements, but he was kind of lacking socially and found it difficult to make conversation. That’s usually why he worked with their regulars or in the back tending to the flowers in the nursery and making sure everything on display was good to go. It was usually Kafka, Elio, and Firefly that handled the customer service aspects while Silver Wolf and Blade handled the background things.
“It’s okay!” Firefly assures. “I’ll be fine by myself.”
“I believe it,” the older woman nods. “Be safe, do some good work, dear. Call me if something happens or when the shoot ends so I can pick you up, okay?”
“Mhm, thank you, Kafka,” Firefly says. “I’ll see you later."
Kafka bids her own farewell, giving Firefly an assuring squeeze on the shoulder, and with that the silver-blonde girl heads out. She enters the building, the receptionist getting her checked in to make sure she’s the real deal and not just some crazy fan. Gallagher meets her after the receptionist calls for someone to escort Firefly to the shooting location.
“So you’re Ms. Firefly?” Gallagher greets, a look of recognition in his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, again. I’m Gallagher, the manager.”
He extends a hand for Firefly to shake. His grip is firm.
“I’m Firefly,” she says politely. “It’s an honor to work with you.”
Gallagher gives a hearty laugh as they start walking. That’s a good sign, right? She doesn’t want to make a bad impression working with famous people, that'd be a bad look, “No need to be so uptight, kiddo. Sure, you’re gonna be workin’ with rich and famous people, but just be nice and casual, no need to be so stiff.”
“Oh, okay,” Firefly bows her head a little. “Sorry.”
“S’all good,” Gallagher assures. He’s very friendly, Firefly could see him being like some kind of cool uncle in a child’s life, “So, Kafka told ya you’d be doing a photoshoot for some big time idol, right?”
“Yes,” Firefly nodded. “Album photoshoots, right? I was told I’d be needed for about a few days for each of the themes.”
“Yeah, we’ve got three kinds of vibes. Don’t ask me what they’re supposed’ta be. The photographers and creative directors’ve got a better idea than me, I’m just the manager,” he states. “But you’re gonna be here for at least a couple of days, don’t worry, you’ll be paid for your work if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh,” Firefly blinked.
They enter a room in the building, it’s really big and she sees a lot of people going about. There’s cameras set up, what she assumes to be the directors of the shoot are conversing with photographers. Today’s set seems to be pretty minimalistic, the lighting is very soft and warm, and the colors are muted and neutral. There's a very cozy and dreamy tone to the set.
She doesn’t see the singer who would be the center focus of the shoot. Maybe they’re still getting their makeup and outfits done.
Gallagher walks her over to a man who seems to be the head creative director. He’s a good-looking young man with yellow eyes and grayish-blue shoulder-length hair. His hair is styled neatly and his white suit looks expensive (it looks like costs twice Firefly’s whole paycheck).
“Gallagher, there you are-” the man cuts himself off upon noticing Firefly. “You are…?”
“This is Ms. Firefly,” Gallagher states, gesturing to the florist. She gives an awkward wave, “She’s the florist we’re gonna be working with for the shoot. Ms. Kafka said she was pretty good at her job.”
“I see,” the man turns to Firefly with a kind smile. He offers a hand to her, “I’m Sunday, the head creative director here."
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sunday,” Firefly bows her head politely, for some reason feeling the need to. Something about Sunday calls for respect. She takes his hand for a shake, “I’m Firefly.”
“No need to be so polite, Ms. Firefly,” Sunday smiles. “We’ll have some staff bring in the flowers when we’re ready.” He turns his attention to Gallagher, “Gallagher, do you know where Robin-”
“Brother!”
Sunday sighs, Gallagher smirks, and Firefly’s eyes widen.
She knows that voice.
A pretty, light blue haired girl comes into view. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of emerald green and she gives Sunday a mischievous smile as he gives her an exasperated look. She’s dressed simply, white shorts and pastel purple sweater that was loose enough to tastefully show some of her clavicle, and yet Firefly feels like her breath had been knocked out of her lungs just by looking at this girl.
She’s just that pretty.
Firefly’s cheeks flush as the girl talks to Sunday.
She knows this girl.
“Oh- who’s this?” the singer takes notice of Firefly who freezes up in the presence of such a beautiful person.
Forgive her, she’s a bit scared of pretty people.
“This is Ms. Firefly,” Gallagher introduces. “She’s the florist that we’re gonna be working with for this album's sets and photoshoots.”
“Oh!” the girl turns to Firefly with this smile that makes her heart jump out of her chest, do multiple cartwheels, and jump out of the building. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Robin.”
She offers a hand to shake.
Firefly swallows.
“I-I’m Firefly,” she manages to say past the lump in her throat. She takes Robin’s hand in her own and it’s absurdly soft, like really soft. She’s unsurprised, Robin’s skin is perfect, no blemishes, and genuinely looks so soft, “It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Ms. Robin.”
“No need to be so polite! Please, just call me Robin,” the idol insists. Firefly’s heart does a couple of more back flips and her ears feel like they’re burning.
“I’ll- uhm, I’ll try…”
The photoshoot goes smoothly. Firefly can't help but think about just how pretty- oh goodness gracious, something's probably wrong with her. Her mind shouldn't be this full of Robin! When she's working nonetheless. She's seen the idol on TV and whatnot multiple times, she knows Robin's beauty.
Yet why does it feel so different in person?
Anyway.
The photoshoot.
The flowers come in as makeup artists are putting Robin’s signature rhinestones on her face. Sunday directs her to where she should be arranging the flowers, but alas, she is allowed to make the arrangements as she pleases. Bouquets of pastel purples, blues, and whites are made. Firefly watches as the photographers have Robin pose in multiple positions with props and flowers. Her heart soars every time Robin makes eye contact with her behind the camera, a sweet smile on her face every single time.
Something truly was wrong with her.
Gallagher calls for a break amidst the hours of set changes, arrangements, and cameras, and Firefly can’t help but feel a little lost amongst the staff and everyone as food is handed out. She grabs her own meal and tries to figure out where she should eat. She doesn’t know anyone here and she can’t help but feel like it’s middle school again.
She’s the new kid again, having moved with Kafka, Elio, and Silver Wolf to a new city. She’s in seventh grade and doesn't know how to make friends and is highly guarded, she never had the time for friends. But this time, there’s no Silver Wolf by her side to drag her to a table and start talking her ear off about this new game she was playing.
So Firefly finds a place to sit alone and eat.
She texts Kafka an update, answers Elio’s talk about dinner tonight at his house in the group chat, replies to Silver Wolf’s photos of SAM with hearts, tells Stelle not to go digging into trash cans, and asks Dan Heng about their lunch date tomorrow.
“Mind if I join you?”
Firefly blinks at the sweet voice that fills her senses. She looks up to see Robin, tray of food in hand and a kind look on her face. Firefly's heart stutters, her own mental processings just taking a second to understand what the hell was happening. Robin? The singer, the super star idol who was about to release a new album that Firefly was going to beg Silver Wolf to let her buy all the versions of, wanted to eat lunch with her?
Firefly nods before her brain could really catch up to her actions and Robin takes the seat beside her. Her face burns and she practically feels her heart skipping multiple beats and kicking up its rate by a factor of ten with just how close Robin was sitting next to her.
Forgive her, she’s very weak to pretty women.
“This is your first time in this kind of environment, right?” Robin asks as Firefly takes a sip of her water to clear her throat.
“Uhm, ye- yes,” Firefly says stiffly. “I’m just a college student, so I haven’t really had much experience with professional settings like this…”
“I see,” Robin hums. Firefly’s watched a handful (most) of interviews with Robin and in every single one of them she’s pretty with a sweet voice, but for some reason, she feels like the experience is way different in person. Robin is stunning in person and her voice just so pleasing to the ear. She swears she could just listen to the singer talk for hours on end, “I hope it isn’t too overwhelming, then?”
“N-No, not at all!” Firefly stammers out, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. “I kind of like it! It’s a nice change of scenery and uh- I’m really just arranging flowers so, uhm, it’s not that much different from what I usually do at the flower shop. And uh- erm, your brother and Mr. Gallagher are very nice and the staff are really welcoming too, s-so it hasn’t been too hard or overwhelming.”
Robin giggles and the sound makes butterflies erupt in Firefly’s chest.
“That’s good to know,” the idol pauses, taking a second to really look at Firefly. She hadn’t gotten a chance to look at the florist earlier, but now that she’s really seeing the other girl… “You’re really cute.”
Firefly chokes on her water.
Robin can’t help but just giggle a little bit at the other girl’s response. She picks up a napkin and offers it to the red-faced, shocked Firefly who was essentially dying. She carefully pats the shorter girl’s back to relieve her of her coughing fit.
“I-I’m sorry?” Firefly manages to hack out into the napkin, her eyes just a little watery from that vicious coughing attack. Today’s just full of surprises, first she meets the idol she really adores and second, said idol thinks she’s cute? Oh lord, just kill her now, won’t you?
Robin’s giggle is perfectly melodic, a playful glint dances around her emerald eyes. She leans just a little bit closer with intention, “You’re really cute, Firefly.”
Firefly wonders if it’s humanly possible to even feel this hot or get this red? Probably not? She’s always had a much higher temperature than the average person, but enough of that. Something about Robin and just her makes Firefly’s heart act up, it’s beating too fast and everything feels like it's on fire (in the good way?). The idol’s words make her heart skip a couple of beats which is notably not healthy and there’s something horribly wrong with her, she thinks.
Is she getting sick?
“Uhm, thank you, Ms. Robin…” Firefly manages to get out. “Although I don’t think I could compare to you… you’re very pretty.”
Robin smiles, “Thank you, but you’re downplaying yourself, Firefly. I mean it with all my heart, you’re very cute.”
If it were possible, she’s sure steam would be pouring out of her ears right now.
The rest of the shoot is spent getting to know the rest of the staff and arranging flowers. Sunday told her at the rate which things were going, they’d likely be done with everything on schedule, but she should be ready in case there’s some unexpected delays. She appreciates the warning, she doesn’t mind working with them, and the schedule doesn’t seem to conflict with any of her classes or require her to take too much time off the flower shop. And she was going to be compensated more for her time and work than expected.
“You’re good at that.”
Firefly jumps from where she’s arranging some flowers on one of the tables that were going to be used. She turns to see Robin looking at her with those pretty green eyes of hers. There’s a glimmer of mischief in them and she feels her face warming up all over again.
“Sorry, did I startle you?” Robin apologizes.
“I-It’s okay,” Firefly mutters. She looks back to where she had been putting together bundles of lavender and white roses. She can’t help but frown at where she had accidentally crumpled the rose’s leaves. She smooths it out, feeling Robin’s curious gaze on her, “It’s my job to be good at it.”
“Some set makers I’ve worked with before don’t pay this much attention to detail to the set, especially if it’s just something in the background. They tend to care more about what’ll be seen up front or what I’ll be holding,” Robin mused.
Firefly gave a nod, listening. She figures that makes sense, why focus on something that isn't going to be perceived?
But for Firefly, anything involving flowers, she's decided, she was going to put her all in. She had spent years learning flower language when Kafka and Elio opened the flower shop. Silver Wolf would call her a nerd, but without fail she always sat and listened to what Firefly had to say about blue bells. It was also one of the things that got Blade to open up, just casual chats behind the counter about spider lilies and black roses.
“You treat every single flower like they’ll be in the spotlight,” Robin finishes.
“Is it bad that I do?” Firefly then asks.
She turns back to look at the idol. The look on Robin’s face is soft and gentle, her emerald-colored eyes looking at Firefly instead of the flowers with such pure curiosity. It was almost as if she had never met someone like the florist before.
“Not at all,” the light blue haired girl smiles. “You treat them like they’re alive, even if they aren’t.”
“I think they all deserve to be cared for until they wilt,” Firefly says.
She looked down at her hands, her fingertips were red from all the non-stop handling of stems and pricking of rose thorns without gardening gloves. She should’ve brought her gloves, that was a bit of oversight on her part. Sunday wanted the roses to keep their thorns, something about how he liked how they added a bit more dimension to a supposedly pure and dreamy photoshoot.
“It’s a nice sentiment,” Robin hums. “You’re a very gentle person, Firefly.”
Firefly laughs awkwardly, she unfurls a leaf, her cheeks reddening, “I think you’ve got it all wrong, Ms. Robin. I’m not very… I’m not.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Robin insists.
It wouldn’t be so hard to believe if she learned about the sins that crawl under Firefly's skin.
—
“Kafka!!” Firefly whined at her mother-figure the moment she entered her car. This time, Himeko was in the passenger seat, resigning Firefly to her usual spot of the backseat.
“Yes, Firefly?” Kafka responds sweetly like she hadn’t known that the idol Firefly was going to be working with was Robin. Kafka was smart, she knew that if she told her that the singer was Robin that the silver-blonde would’ve declined the request because at the end of the day she was a shy super fan.
“You didn’t tell me the idol I was working with was Ms. Robin!!” Firefly pouted. Himeko, her new favorite parental figure, reached over to pat Firefly’s head in consolation.
“Is that such a bad thing, dear?” Kafka asked, turning around.
“I-”
Firefly halted.
Dammit, Kafka was right.
Meeting Robin was honestly super great. That’s an understatement, but Firefly doesn’t want to say that meeting Robin would be in her top ten best things that’s ever happened to her because that sounds really stupid, but she’ll put it up high somewhere. Robin was very down to Earth, super sweet and kind, and liked to talk. Even though she could seek out conversation with any of the other staff members or hell, her brother, she always seemed to gravitate towards Firefly.
When sets were being changed and things were being arranged and Robin was allowed to go free, she’d go over to Firefly and talk. It didn’t have to be about anything meaningful either. They’d talk about life, Firefly would get stories from Robin about the idol life and her friends, Firefly would talk about the flower shop.
Also she was very, very pretty.
“No…” Firefly concedes, images of Robin’s smile and pretty emerald eyes coming to mind. She feels her ears heat up as Kafka chuckles at her and Himeko lightly scolds Kafka for laughing at their pretty-much-daughter, “She’s, uhm, very pretty.”
“Is that all?” Kafka asks, pulling out of the parking lot.
“She’s nice,” Firefly then adds. “I-I liked talking to her… she has a nice voice.”
“Firefly, honey,” Himeko calls out in this very motherly tone of hers that Firefly has heard many times. She's very familiar with this tone, “You sound a little bit like an elementary schooler with a crush.”
“Ms. Himeko, I thought you were on my side…”
“She isn’t wrong, Firefly. You sound like you have a crush on Ms. Robin now.”
“She’s just really pretty!!”
—
“YOU MET ROBIN?!!”
“March…”
Her pink friend practically leaps across the table they’re sitting at. This was supposed to be a study session for their upcoming exams, but studying with friends never really works out to be anything useful other than just plain fooling around.
“Ohmygod, you met Robin!!” March exclaims.
“Yes… I did,” the poor silver-blonde said as March grabbed her by the shoulders, keeping her tightly locked in place with a vice grip. “Can you please let me go now?”
“And you didn’t even ask for an autograph?!” March shrieks, not listening. Firefly fears that this is a lost cause now.
“It was a professional setting!” Firefly responded. Robin enjoyed teasing and she knew that she’d be teased to no end if she actually had asked for an autograph (even if she was tempted to). Also her dignity was preventing her from bringing her albums to the shoots and asking for an autograph (ignore the fact that about half her collection is signed).
She already feels her ears getting hot from the idea of Robin’s teasing smile.
“That’s a wasted opportunity!” March whined, sitting back down in her seat. She gave Firefly an exaggerated pout, “If you aren’t gonna get an autograph yourself, can you at least get me one?”
Firefly made a face at that.
Just the mere thought of asking Robin for an autograph on the second day of working for her made Firefly want to dig herself into a hole and never come out of it. She knows Kafka would never let her live it down either; things like that just never get past her. Actually, nothing really gets past Kafka, then again, that’s just how she managed to survive back then.
“Firefly, pleaseeeeee!!” March took Firefly’s hands in her own and tried her best puppy eyes.
“That might work on Dan Heng and Stelle, but it’s not gonna work on me,” Firefly murmured even if her resolve was wavering. Asking for an autograph would give her more excuses to talk to Robin, even if the singer just seemed to pop out of nowhere to talk to her any time possible. But also, pride and dignity, that was on the line. She’d never survive another day at the flower shop or on set.
“This never works on Dan Heng, actually,” March admits after a second. “I just bug him until he gives up.”
“That explains a lot, actually,” Firefly mumbles. “But no, March, I can’t.”
“Fireflyyyyyy!!"
“Why are we begging Firefly again?” Stelle pops out of nowhere into the scene, Dan Heng behind her. March’s attention immediately goes off Firefly and onto Stelle as she latches onto her gray haired best friend.
“Stelleeeeee!!” March whines and Firefly wonders if this is what Dan Heng feels like all the time.
“There was never a ‘we’,” Dan Heng states, arms crossed. “Why is March begging Firefly?”
“Gee, thanks Dan Heng,” March rolls her eyes at him. She makes a very big show of clasping her hands together and pouting at him, putting on her best show of puppy eyes. Firefly can’t help but laugh at the way that Dan Heng physically recoils at that.
“No,” he pushes her away by her face before moving to take a seat beside Firefly. “What is she trying to beg you to do?”
“She wants an autograph from Ms. Robin,” Firefly states and Stelle raises an eyebrow as she sits down beside their pink friend, grabbing her notebooks from her backpack.
“Robin? Like the super world star idol?” Stelle asks.
“Yes, like Robin the super world star idol,” Firefly nods. Sometimes she thinks Stelle lives under a rock.
“You know her?” she then asks.
“I’m working on a photoshoot with her,” Firefly explains.
“Oh,” Stelle blinks. She flips her notebook to the first page, “I don’t get this, by the way.”
“You never get anything,” March sighed. “Lemme look."
With that, they’re back on track to studying. Dan Heng recites all the statues and laws in the country by memory while Firefly tests him. Stelle and March scrutinize their biology homework. It’s as Dan Heng’s helping her with her calculus work that March speaks up again.
“So no autograph?”
“No."
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“I…”
“Firefly, don’t give in.”
—
Firefly gave in.
“Cute girls really are your weakness,” Silver Wolf comments on their commute to the flower shop. Firefly frowns as Silver Wolf blows a bubblegum bubble at her.
“Shut up,” Firefly pouted.
She stared at March’s album in her hands. She can’t actually believe she agreed to this. She still remembers just how disappointed Dan Heng looked as March dragged them over to her apartment literally right after the study session was concluded. Thankfully, they kept it to a minimum of one thing or else March would’ve made Firefly take her whole collection which was, arguably, bigger than Firefly’s.
“You were screaming into your pillow about Robin like last night or something,” Silver Wolf points out. She reaches up and pulls her colored glasses down as the train slows to a stop and doors open, she turns to make eye contact with Firefly, “I heard you.”
“Necessary measures to keep my sanity in check,” Firefly holds eye contact as they exit. She links her arm with Silver Wolf as they head out of the station, “I’m heading back today so…"
“Good luck.”
—
“Is that an album, Firefly?”
“No.”
Firefly shoves March’s album right into her tote bag like it was nothing. If the corners get damaged, it wasn’t her fault. She thinks her pink friend would be too overjoyed about the autograph to even notice the crumpled corners.
Kafka chuckles at her but nonetheless, they enter her car and head out to the shooting location. Firefly is thankful that the topic of her having Robin’s album on her doesn’t arise in their car conversation.
“And here we are,” Kafka announces once she pulls into the parking lot. “Call me when you’re done.”
“I will, thank you,” Firefly says. “It’s not too much of a bother for you to drive me is it, Kafka?”
“Never,” Kafka assures. She pats Firefly’s head before reaching to fix the younger girl’s headband, “You’ve nearly died for me, dear. Driving you is nothing.”
“You almost died too,” Firefly reminds her and Kafka just smiles.
“Don’t worry too much about me driving you, it’s just part of my motherly duties,” she jokes and Firefly rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s odd to hear Kafka refer to herself as Firefly’s mother, but their relationship was very familial, even if the circumstances around their bond weren't ideal.
“Mhm, okay, I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun, and make sure to tell me about that autograph later.”
“Kafka!”
—
It’s day two for shooting. Today, the setting is in a greenhouse more specifically at golden hour. She gets to the set early, Sunday instructs her to set up flower arrangements in the greenhouse to his taste. As ordered, she makes arrays of light yellows and white flowers, hiding purples in the arrangement. She adds a pop of color and brightness here and there in the greenhouse in orange tulips or buttercups within the garden beds.
She knows her way around greenhouses and nurseries, working on one so often. She does her best to make the setting look organic and natural. Lighting is adjusted and it’s about a whole hour until peak golden hour and Firefly doesn’t see Robin yet. She’s probably in the trailer getting her makeup done, but Firefly just really wants to see her for some reason.
“Good job on the flowers, Ms. Firefly,” Sunday tells her when she removes herself from the set for any adjustments to be made to fit the theme. Sunday’s dressed nicely as always, very professional and something vaguely suit-like. His presence is calming to an extent, but she can’t help but feel a little distant from the man. He’s different from Robin’s warm and welcoming aura.
“Thank you, Mr. Sunday,” she says politely. “I try my best.”
Sunday chuckles, lighthearted, “I’ve never met a florist as meticulous as you are.”
“Ms. Robin said something like that before,” Firefly mumbles, thinking back to last time. Robin’s words made her heart beat a little fast and her cheeks warm, why? She didn’t know. Robin had an effect on her that she couldn’t understand.
There’s a glimmer of adoration in Sunday’s eyes. He smiles at Firefly, fond. Robin and him seem to be very close, “That does sound like my sister.”
“Does it?” Firefly asks.
“She’s always observing newcomers to this line of work. She’s very curious about those that interest her especially, ones that catch her eye,” Sunday says. A sigh escapes past his lips, but the smile on his face remains all the same, fond and adoring of his younger sister, “Perhaps, that’s why she’s so interested in you, Ms. Firefly.”
“You’re exaggerating, Mr. Sunday,” Firefly tries to brush off. She ignores the way she feels her ears heat up, spreading to the rest of her face. Oh god, she hopes it doesn’t show, “I’m nothing special.”
“I dare to say I disagree there,” Sunday says. “You hold yourself in a way that I’ve never seen- very guarded yet so open. You’ve seen life for what it is, yet you still manage to find the beauty in it.”
“I guess you could say that,” Firefly states. She opens and closes her hands, feeling her gardening gloves against her palms, “Life is ugly, it burns with greed and corruption.”
Firefly looks down at her feet and for a second she sees the red pool at her shoes, staining the soles. She blinks and they’re gone. Her hands feel dirty but not with dirt on her gloves, they feel dirty with a stain that’s impossible to scrub away. The metallic feeling goes deep under her fingernails and just for a second, she’s back.
“Indeed,” Sunday’s voice is what takes her out of her thoughts. “Life is ugly. But you agree that there’s a beauty to the ugliness?”
“To an extent, but even then, you can only see so much beauty in something that’s just plain cruel,” Firefly says vaguely. “As a florist, it’s my job to see the beauty in the world. I take seeds and dirt and grow them into colorful flowers but even then, that doesn’t change the fact that they were once dirt and seeds, ugly and unwanted.”
She’s not talking about flowers.
“Right, but even then at the end of the day, they’ve grown into beautiful flowers, no?” Sunday challenges her.
“They’ll forever be rooted in the ground, Mr. Sunday, their past can’t escape them,” Firefly tells him.
“Are we talking about flowers, Ms. Firefly?” Sunday asks.
“We are,” Firefly answers.
Sunday has her make some flower crowns before shooting starts. Daises along with some smaller white flowers sit on a table in front of her as she weaves and loops the delicate stems around each other. She assumes it’s for Robin, who else could it be for? She doesn’t know Robin’s favorite flowers, if she did, she would’ve liked to make a flower crown out of them for her. Daisies worked well enough for their purposes, they represented cheerfulness and purity, innocence and joy.
Firefly has used them multiple times in many bouquets for girls trying to get their significant others something nice at the beginning of their relationship. More often than not, she found herself assembling bouquets of purple lavenders and daises.
“Oh, you’re good at that too.”
Firefly doesn’t startle this time as she turns around to meet Robin’s gaze. There’s a smile on the other girl’s face, and a glimmer of interest behind those emerald eyes of her and oh god, Firefly feels her ears heating up again.
“My, uh,” Firefly hesitates to put a label on it. What could you call her and Elio’s relationship? It was very family-like, he was very much like a father-figure to her, even back then. Calling him her ‘boss’ felt far too impersonal for the fact that she has dinner at his house with all the others at least every Sunday, “…My father, he taught me.”
She turns to fully face Robin and she swears that she feels the air leave her lungs.
Robin is pretty as ever, of course she is. Her signature rhinestones are noticeable under her left eye and her makeup is fairly minimal, and very soft and dreamy-looking. She’s wearing this white, flowy sundress that just works so well on with the soft look she’s portraying. In place of her signature starred choker is a simple gold necklace.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Robin smiles after a second of silence. Firefly had forgotten that this was a conversation and that she needed to talk. The poor silver-blonde girl blinks and Robin gestures to her outfit, “It’s a very pretty dress. Unless you were looking at something else…?”
Firefly’s face turns bright red and Robin’s giggles at her, and Firefly thinks that she could hear that sound every morning if Robin would let her.
“I-It is!” Firefly exclaims oh-so eloquently.
Kafka was going to have a field day with this.
Robin smiles, sweet. She redirects her attention to the almost finished flower crown in Firefly’s hands, “I’m assuming this is meant for me?”
“Mr. Sunday asked me to make it,” Firefly responds. She turns back to her hands, taking another daisy from the pile on the table and weaving it in with the rest of the crown, “I didn’t know what flowers you liked, but daisies were the safest option for flower crowns."
“I like blue bells,” Robin answers.
“Blue bells?” Firefly repeats. She tucks that piece of information away in her head for safekeeping later. Just in case. It’s not like she plans on presenting Robin with a bouquet of flowers or something any time soon.
Not at all.
“They're dainty and quite pretty,” Robin elaborates. “Although I think those would be a bit difficult to make a flower crown out of. I hear they aren't used commonly for cut flowers.”
“Anything is possible if I try hard enough,” Firefly smiles. She ties off the last flower, before adjusting the crown to size, “But I think for our purposes, daisies will do today. It compliments the rest of the set.”
And you, Ms. Robin, she decides not to say.
“Bummer,” Robin pouts a little, but it’s nothing genuine. Firefly’s heart squeezes and she pointedly ignores the thumping in her chest. She should really get that checked out, maybe she’s getting heart disease? Is that possible? To get sudden heart disease without warning? Perhaps. She’ll talk to Mr. Welt about it when she sees him for class later.
“I wish I had finished earlier, I would’ve loved to see you work,” Robin hummed.
“Maybe you can stop by the shop sometime and visit me,” Firefly offers, not realizing what she’s saying. Words are just coming out of her mouth and she’s not realizing it.
Robin grins, “Taking me back to your place, already, Firefly? At least take me out on a date!”
Ah.
Robin was going to be the death of her.
Firefly's face flushes red, in fact, she quite literally blushes with her whole body, her neck feels oddly hot and she’s sure she’s practically feverish feeling right about now as pricks of heat crawl up to her face. She gives an awkward laugh as she turns away and continues tugging at the flower crown despite it no longer needing any adjustment.
“I uh, I…” she basically malfunctions.
Robin’s laugh is terribly sweet and pretty and her eyes sparkle with mischief. Under her gaze Firefly feels vulnerable, and it’s not necessarily in a bad way, to be honest. The way Robin looks at her is very confusing, something in the mix of curiosity and interest followed by mischief and even a bit of fondness. It makes her so horribly confused.
Yet so so unfairly attracted.
“I’m just teasing,” Robin says which oddly enough makes Firefly feel just a bit disappointed.
It’s surely just because she admires Robin.
“However, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more,” the idol winks and Firefly thinks she could just die happily right then and there. “Well, I won’t keep you for much longer. My brother and Gallagher might soon have my head if I’m not on set now.”
“Ah, wait,” Firefly looks at the flower crown in her hands. Robin looks at her expectantly and so, gathering all her courage, Firefly reaches forward and puts the flower crown gently on the light blue haired girl’s head.
As expected, it fits perfectly. The color of the daises match well with her dress, the light colors compliment her hair. Robin seems delightfully surprised for once and there's a sense of triumph that fills Firefly’s chest at the thought of managing to catch the singer off guard for once.
She looks absolutely ethereal.
“Looks good,” Firefly mumbles, she moves her hand away to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Robin’s ear. Her hand grazes Robin’s cheek, sending warm tingles through her arm and right into her heart.
“Me or the flower crown?” Robin decides to ask.
“Both.”
Robin is off to the photoshoot and they need to get it done before peak golden hour is over. Firefly stands beside Gallagher as the shoot goes on, they talk about life, nothing too interesting. He goes on about his hobby of bartending and Firefly likes to talk about her rabbit, SAM. He mentions how Firefly would get along with one of Robin’s personal bodyguards, a young boy by the name of Misha, and Firefly thinks that Gallagher and Kafka would get along well.
In small glances, Firefly sees Robin pose and do her idol thing and well, she’s absolutely stunning. The golden rays of the run hit her in all the best places imaginable, illuminating her beautifully, and she looks downright angelic. The way the sun kisses the slope of her jaw and how her lips curve up into a smile. Firefly finds it difficult to look away.
“They’re nice photos, aren’t they?” Robin suddenly appears behind her whilst her photos are up on monitors for the photographers to look over. The photographers had already looked over, deciding that the shots were perfect aside from some later editing to be made.
Robin was just that good, wasn’t she?
Firefly visibly jumps at the other girl’s sudden appearance, “Ah- Ms. Robin, please warn me the next time you do that…”
“Sorry, sorry,” Robin apologizes with a smile that doesn’t really seem all that apologetic. “Your reactions are just so cute, Firefly.”
“You keep saying that,” Firefly says, feeling her ears redden once more. They do that a lot around Robin, don’t they?
“But it’s true,” Robin insists, she steps a little closer into Firefly’s bubble and the silver-blonde lets her. “You’re very cute, and pretty.”
“I- thank you… but I think you’re prettier,” Firefly mumbles, sheepish. She subconsciously toys with the straps of her tote bag. She looks down, seeing March’s album, now just remembering it.
Right.
That.
No time better than now, right?
“Uh, Ms. Robin,” Firefly clears her throat, the idol in question responding with a hum. “If you have the time, I, uh, need you to sign something for a friend of mine.”
Robin raises an eyebrow, but it takes barely a second for her expression to shift to a teasing, playful one. She smiles sweetly at Firefly, “Firefly, if you just wanted an autograph, you don’t have to make up a fake friend just to ask.”
“She’s a super real friend!” Firefly exclaims unconvincingly. She swears that March is a real girl and not a product of her imagination, “Wait- do you think I don’t have friends?!”
“Now, I didn’t say that,” Robin countered with that honey-like voice of hers, “buttttt you’ve only been really talking to me, my brother, and Gallagher all day. A girl can come to some conclusions.”
“I- you know that, nevermind,” Firefly sighed. She thinks Stelle’s dramaticisms are rubbing off on her. She never thought she could sound so offended until now, “I can’t believe you think I don’t have friends.”
“No one said anything about not having friends!” Robin laughs a little. “I can still sign something for your ‘friend’ if you’d like.”
“Please stop saying it like you’re signing my album,” Firefly mumbles.
“So you do have albums of me?” Robin bats her eyelashes and Firefly suddenly decides that Robin was going to be the death of her.
“No,” Firefly lies and she takes out March’s album and pushes it into Robin’s hands. “Please just sign it.”
Robin laughs, “Of course. May I ask about your ‘friend’s’ name?”
“March,” Firefly answers stiffly.
Lord, Robin was going to be the end of her.