Chapter Text
“Wow, Stolas, thanks! These are pretty.”
“...oh.”
Blitzø looked up from the bouquet Stolas had given him. Stolas was still smiling widely, as he had been when he excitedly presented it to Blitzø. But now that smile seemed frozen, the corners of his mouth straining to stay upright, as if struggling to bear some unknown weight.
His pupils were apparently unable to bear the weight: like shooting stars, they had plummeted from their position studying Blitzø's face to stare at the floor. Now that Stolas’s pupils were always visible, Blitzø had noticed that Stolas always stopped looking at him when he was upset. The new information usually prevented him from fucking things up too catastrophically by letting him know when he needed to go into damage control.
But he currently had no fucking idea what the problem was. He looked back down at the bouquet like it could explain the situation to him. It really was pretty: several stalks of bright red flowers were in its center, surrounded by tiny purple flowers and white flowers that looked like little bells. Blitzø didn't know shit about flowers, but Stolas knew fucking everything about them, so Blitzø knew that this was important to him.
Stolas had clearly put effort into choosing the flowers and making them look nice - had Blitzø not reacted enthusiastically enough? Did Stolas think he didn't like them? “Uh… they're REALLY pretty,” he tried, smiling at him encouragingly.
But apparently that was the wrong answer, because Stolas’s strained smile collapsed. “Thank you,” he said quietly, but his face didn't match the words at all.
“What's with that face?” Blitzø demanded, then winced slightly at how harshly that came out. It didn't help that Stolas quickly looked up at him with wide eyes, forcing an anxious smile to his face. He looked like he had been caught slacking off, as though performing his happiness for Blitzø was a job he wasn't doing well enough. And as someone who spent so many years being treated like a failed performer, Blitzø never wanted to make him feel like that. “Is something wrong?” he asked, consciously making his voice gentler.
But it didn't seem to help. Stolas just let out a strange little laugh, his eyes darting to the side. “Oh, nothing, darling, it's silly. I'm glad you like them.”
Blitzø squinted at him, skeptical. “Okay, no, something’s clearly wrong. What is it?”
“I'm fine, Blitzø, really. Don't worry.” He turned on his heel and strode into the kitchen in what felt unmistakably like a retreat. “I'll get started on the dishes.” And he did just that, leaving Blitzø standing there with a beautiful bouquet and a bewildered expression.
Blitzø ended up putting the bouquet in a vase, something that he hadn't even owned before Stolas started getting him flowers. He had put the first bouquet Stolas got him, a tall stack of purple flowers, in a beer glass. Stolas hadn't seemed to mind, just giddily saying how happy he was that Blitzø had accepted them, but Blitzø had bought a vase anyway.
It was a beat up plaster thing he got at a thrift store, with badly painted horse sculptures attached to either side of it. It was clearly a failed project from one of those pottery painting places, maybe discreetly given to the store by a parent when their untalented child wasn't paying attention. It was not at all fitting with the beautiful bouquet it held, but Blitzø thought it still made the bouquet look legit sitting on the table.
But every time Stolas looked at the bouquet, he got that strange, strained smile. And when he thought Blitzø wasn't looking, he grimaced and looked away from it, as if he couldn't stand the sight of it.
And that went on all morning. To Blitzø's credit, he had asked Stolas a second time if something was wrong, but Stolas had just insisted that he was all right and that Blitzø didn't need to worry about it. But that was a fucking lie, and Stolas was a bad liar, so he just worried about it more.
Once Stolas agreed to go on an errand for Blitzø (“I'm becoming more of a normal person!” Stolas had declared, with his signature combination of ridiculous and adorable), Blitzø snapped a picture of the bouquet and texted it separately to Fizz and Millie with the following message:
Stols gave me thees flours and now hes sad y???
Fizz responded first, which wasn't a surprise given how much of a phone addict he was. If he wasn't performing or getting fucked by that giant chicken with the giant cock, Fizz probably had his phone in his hand.
How the fuck should I know
Just fucking ask him
I tryed but he just sed
it duznt mater???
Jfc you guys are
so bad at this
OK thanks fuk u bye
Millie responded about ten minutes later.
Sorry B idk! Moxxie
just gets me roses
Ov corse he fukin duz
Bet he skatters pettles on
the bed like a baysic bitch
Like ooh Im making
mishunaree so fuking exsiting
Ur getting distracted Blitz 😆
Shit ur rite
Y the fuk is Stols sad
about the fukin flours
he gave me
I smiled and sed thanks
and evrything
I'm guessing you already
asked him about it
And he probably said
it was nbd?
Yah see u get it
Fizz is a fukin ideeut
Not sure what prompted
that but OK 😅
Flowers are one of Stolas’s
things right? Maybe the
flowers are supposed to
mean something?
Wtf cood thay meen
their flowers
Flowers just meen I
killed this pritty thing
cuz I like u rite???
I got no fucking idea B 😂
Flowers ain't my thing either
Maybe you could talk to
someone else who knows
stuff about flowers?
Who else nose ubout
that nerd shit
Moxx isn't a flower nerd rite
Oh wait I do hav uhnuther
nerd I can ask
Thanks Mills!!!
Happy to help B 😁
And with that, Blitzø knew exactly what he was going to talk about in his next therapy session.