Chapter Text
Floriography
Daffodil — unrequited love.
Pair with…
Clover, for hope of change.
Sweet pea, for farewell to an ill-suited romance.
Airports were always annoying.
Too many people going everywhere and nowhere, dragging suitcases behind them like noisy shadows. Too loud. Too crowded. Places like this drained him. The restless energy of people rushing around as if their lives depended on catching their next flight didn’t help. He shoved a hand deeper into the pocket of his open jacket as he made his way toward Gate 7, dragging his feet along the polished floor.
Moments like this made him grateful for his height.
Being over 190 centimeters tall had its advantages—sometimes. At the very least, it meant he could see over the sea of heads around him. His free hand gripped his phone like a lifeline. The earbuds dampened some of the noise around him, though not completely. Voices, footsteps, music coming from God knows where—it all blurred together into an irritating background hum.
Another voice crackled through the earbuds.
“—You seriously ditched us?” Isagi was saying. “Do you know how rare it is for everyone to show up during break? Bachira came, Chigiri came, even Rin showed up—”
Nagi blinked lazily as he glanced up at the signs overhead.
Gate 12.
Wrong direction.
He sighed and turned around. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.
“Shit…”
“I never said I’d come,” Nagi muttered.
“You literally did! When Bachira asked you if you were coming, you nodded.”
“Did I?”
He barely paid attention to them most of the time anyway. With Reo gone, it had probably been even worse.
“I told you already,” Nagi said, weaving his way back through the crowd. “Reo gets back today, and I have to pick him up.”
There was a brief pause.
“Doesn’t Reo have a driver and a butler for that?” Isagi asked.
Nagi sighed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He glanced down at the phone in his hand as he walked and bumped into a middle-aged man. The man looked at him, annoyed, then seemed to realize Nagi was at least a head taller and walked off without another word.
“I promised I’d pick him up when he got back.”
Silence again.
Then Isagi snorted. “Ooh, I see~, little Nagi missed his childhood frie—”
“Yeah, whatever. Gotta go.” Nagi hung up before Isagi could finish.
He had already stopped listening when a glimpse of purple caught his eye in the distance.
There he was.
Nagi took out his earbuds and tossed them into his jeans pocket. His eyes locked onto that familiar flash of purple across the crowd. He slipped through the people around him, effortlessly dodging suitcases and rushing travelers. All he could focus on was getting to Reo.
As if Reo had a sixth sense reserved just for him, he spotted Nagi almost instantly. His eyes widened in recognition, and then his whole face lit up. A bright, open smile spread across his lips. The kind of smile that had always softened something in Nagi’s chest.
For a brief moment, all the noise and bustle of the airport faded away. Everything softened at the edges—until only Reo remained.
They ended up meeting right in the middle of the arrivals area. Reo didn't even hesitate. He went straight in for a tight hug, wrapping his arms around Nagi’s waist. Nagi leaned into it without thinking, closing his eyes and burying his nose in the crease between Reo's neck and shoulder.
Reo smelled the same—clean, with a faint sweetness underneath. Like pears and something else that was just… Reo. Familiar. Comfortable. When they pulled apart, Reo reached up to mess up Nagi’s hair—an old habit of his. Ruffling it like Nagi was still ten.
“Seriously.” Reo laughed softly. “Two weeks never felt so long.” He tilted his head slightly. “Did you miss me?”
Nagi frowned faintly, running a hand through his hair and trying to smooth it back into place. It didn’t work.
“It wasn't that long, Reo.”
Reo huffed in amusement.
That was a lie. Nagi had been counting the days since the moment Reo left.
Outside the glass doors of the airport, the humid summer evening air hit them like a wall. The heat felt jarring after the dry chill of the air conditioning they’d just left behind. Nagi followed a step behind Reo as they made their way toward the pickup lane. Cars and people flowed around them in a constant stream. They both recognized the familiar black car waiting by the curb. An older woman, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, stood beside it.
Reo reached for Nagi’s hand out of habit.
“Come on, Nagi,” Reo murmured, pulling him toward the waiting car. Nagi went with him without thinking much about it.
“Welcome back, young master,” Baaya said with a small nod.
Reo smiled easily. “Good to see you, Baaya.”
Her gaze shifted briefly toward Nagi.
“Thank you for picking up Master Reo, young Seishiro.”
Nagi waved her off. Isagi was right—Reo’s caretaker could easily get him home—but that wasn’t really the point. Besides, what he really wanted was to be the first person Reo saw.
The trunk opened with a click, and Baaya placed Reo’s suitcase inside before sliding back into the driver’s seat. Reo and Nagi climbed into the back seat. The door closed behind them with a soft thud. For a moment, neither of them spoke as the car pulled away. Reo leaned back against the seat, letting out a long exhale.
“Man, it feels good to be back.”
Nagi glanced at him. “You were only gone two weeks.”
“Yeah, but still.” Reo stretched his arms over his head before letting them drop again. “The beach was nice, though. We had this private section, so it wasn’t crowded or anything. I went swimming almost every morning.”
Nagi hummed faintly, noticing the tan lines along Reo’s arms and collarbones beneath his soft white linen shirt.
“The seafood was amazing too. I swear I’m taking you with me next time—whether you like it or not.”
“Good luck with that,” Nagi mumbled.
Reo huffed in amusement.
“My dad dragged me to a couple of business dinners, though.”
“You hate those,” Nagi said, glancing at him.
“I do.” Reo grimaced. “Fucking pain in the ass.”
“Why didn’t you sneak out?”
“And deal with the nagging later? No thanks.” Reo sighed. “Nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of old men talking nonsense to make you want to jump out the window.”
“Sounds annoying.” Nagi looked out the window.
“It was,” Reo admitted. “You should’ve come with me. It would’ve been more fun.”
There was something in Reo’s voice that Nagi couldn’t quite decipher. He glanced back at him and reached for Reo’s hand—but before he could touch him, Reo spoke again.
“Lucky for me, there was someone there to keep me entertained.” Reo absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around his finger.
Nagi didn’t say anything, but Reo kept going.
“They were actually interesting. We had a lot in common. Another victim dragged around by their father during summer break to learn ‘the business’.” Reo chuckled at the last part.
The shine in his eyes was new—an excitement that wasn’t meant for him. The thought left a faint, bitter taste on his tongue.
“We even went surfing early one morning. It’s pretty fun once you get the hang of it,” Reo said with a smile. “They even helped me get out of a couple of dinners with Dad. It was the only part of the trip that didn't feel like a total drag.”
“You’re talking about that person a lot.” Nagi glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
Reo blinked, laughing under his breath.
“Am I?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, it was just nice, I guess—finding someone cool in the middle of a room full of old men and spoiled rich kids.”
Nagi frowned faintly. He wished Reo would stop talking about them.
“…Reo.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a rich kid.”
Reo stared at him for a moment. A sudden laugh burst from his lips, breaking the heaviness that had settled between them.
“Excuse you. I might be rich,” he scoffed. “But I’m not spoiled.”
“Mmm.” Nagi gave a small shrug.
“Hey! What was that shrug for?” Reo looped an arm around Nagi’s neck, playfully ruffling his already messy white hair.
For a moment, things felt normal again. Maybe the weird feeling was just because they hadn’t seen each other in a while. But it wasn’t even the longest they’d been apart. Reo had gone to Europe for almost a month back in sixth grade. Nagi had been supposed to go too, if he hadn’t gotten chickenpox.
Reo let out a breath as the car rolled smoothly down the highway. Nagi leaned back against the leather seat, but something about the conversation still sat strangely in his chest. A dull pressure lingered there, faint but persistent, like he had swallowed something that refused to go down.
“Are you going to see them again?” Nagi asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Maybe.” Reo shrugged. “We exchanged numbers.”
“Oh.”
For a few seconds, only the soft hum of the engine filled the car.
“Nagi?”
“Yeah.”
Reo hesitated.
“I’ll tell you this because you’re my best friend,” he said quietly, his hands tightening in his lap. “I think I like them.”
Nagi blinked.
Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.
“…You like them?”
Reo nodded, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.
“It’s stupid, I know. It’s only been two weeks.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Everything just… felt easy for once.”
Nagi studied him for a moment. Reo’s posture was unnervingly rigid, his shoulders drawn tight—nothing like the lightness he usually carried when it was just the two of them. Reo turned his head to stare out the window.
“What kind of like?” Nagi asked after a moment.
Reo didn’t answer.
Outside, the city rushed past them, a chaotic blur of concrete, glass, and light. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting long streaks of yellow across the car’s interior. For a brief moment, yellow light washed over Nagi’s face before disappearing again.
He watched the back of Reo’s head. His perfectly styled violet hair looked soft. Reo kept staring out the window, quiet for once. Something about it made the atmosphere in the car feel heavier. Nagi’s hands felt colder than usual. The question lingered between them. All Nagi could do was wait, even if he knew he probably wouldn’t get an answer.
“…Okay,” He murmured.
He didn’t know what else to say.
By the time the car stopped in front of Nagi’s house, the silence between them felt unbearable. Nagi still couldn’t get Reo’s words out of his head.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the front door. Then he finally stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell of food drifting from the kitchen. Then the lights and the soft murmur of voices—probably the TV—which could only mean one thing.
His mom was home.
That alone was unusual.
Most days, the house stayed quiet and empty until late at night. Not that he minded. His parents usually worked long hours at the university, and Nagi had gotten used to spending most of his time on his own. Besides, he could always go to Reo’s whenever he got bored. He hadn’t expected to see anyone home tonight—maybe not even for the rest of the weekend. Nagi hadn’t expected his mom to be home tonight.
Not that he was particularly hungry.
Today felt like one of those rare days when the house was strangely warm.
The living room to his left caught the last of the daylight. Soft orange and violet filtered through the tall windows. Warm light from the kitchen filtered through the glass panels on the other side.
“Sei? Is that you?”
Nagi slipped off his shoes by the entrance. He had already started toward the stairs when he looked back at her. His mother stood by the glass panels, warm light behind her. Her white hair—just like his—was pulled back into a messy bun. She wore an apron he didn’t recognize, and a gentle smile softened her tired face.
“How’s Reo? Did he have a good trip?”
The moment she mentioned Reo’s name, Nagi stiffened.
“He’s… fine,” he managed quietly. “And Dad?”
“Business trip,” she replied. “It’ll just be you and me for a while.”
Before Nagi could say anything, his mother’s smile faded slightly as she studied him more closely.
“Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”
Nagi opened his mouth, but it felt as if a knot had tightened in his throat. He swallowed hard.
“Yeah, just tired, Mom.”
She looked at him, clearly unconvinced, and sighed. “Go wash up then. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Nagi had already started up the stairs. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he muttered.
He hurried down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it. The fading light filtered through the thin curtains, stirring softly in the breeze—he’d left the window open again.
The uneasy feeling hadn’t gone away.
If anything, it had only gotten worse.
Like someone had knocked the air out of him, leaving him breathless. His phone vibrated twice in his pocket. Nagi pulled it out. A single message lit up the screen.
- Let’s meet tomorrow, or whenever you have time. There are still a lot of things I want to tell you… Look, I’m sorry if anything I said earlier made you uncomfortable.
“... Reo.”
Nagi read the message again and again until the screen went black, leaving only his reflection staring back at him. He could barely recognize himself. Every time he remembered Reo saying ‘I think I like them’ with that bashful look on his face, something tightened painfully in his chest.
Nagi didn’t understand why it hurt this much.
He and Reo had known each other since first grade, when Nagi transferred schools and ended up in Reo’s class. They had been inseparable ever since. Almost every important memory Nagi had included Reo.
Reo was his best friend.
But hearing those words…
“I should have gone on that stupid trip.” He let out a shaky breath.
And what did Reo even mean by like?
Nagi frowned. He knew exactly what Reo meant. He wasn’t stupid. It was just… he’d never imagined hearing those words from him.
Reo had always been there, right by his side.
Back in middle school, when the confessions started piling up, Reo rejected every single one. Once, Nagi had asked if he ever wanted a relationship at all, but Reo had brushed it off, saying he wanted to focus on soccer and school instead.
“Why would I? I already have you,” Reo had said, resting his chin on Nagi’s shoulder and watching whatever game Nagi was playing on his phone.
At the time, something warm bloomed in his chest. It made him feel special—different from everyone else Reo allowed near him.
So what had changed?
Nagi sat down on the edge of his bed. The uncomfortable heat clawing at his throat had returned. He remembered Reo’s smile at the airport—the way his face had lit up when he saw him. The tight hug, Reo’s warmth.
For a moment, Nagi had felt… happy.
Now he felt like shit, hollow and cold all the way down to his bones. His chest tightened, making it suddenly hard to breathe. Nagi tried to pull in a breath, but it felt wrong. Too thin. Too shallow. His breathing grew faster and more ragged.
Every time he exhaled, a strange smell filled the air. Sweet. Floral. Nauseating. Dizziness washed over him, goosebumps prickling across his skin.
Then he coughed.
Once.
Twice.
At first, it was light, but the coughs quickly grew harsher, forcing their way up his throat. His chest hurt, but he couldn’t stop.
His lungs burned.
“Sei?” his mother called from outside the door. “Sei, are you okay?”
Nagi couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even breathe properly. He slid off the bed and dropped to his knees, one hand bracing against the floor while the other clamped over his mouth. Another violent cough tore through his chest.
The door burst open.
His mother stood there for a split second, eyes wide as she took in the scene—Nagi on the floor, shaking, face flushed, tears sliding down his cheeks, sweat pearling across his skin.
“Seishiro—!”
She rushed toward him, her footsteps sharp against the wooden floor.
Then the nausea hit. A gag ripped out of his throat. There was a strange taste in his mouth. Bitter. Astringent. And that damn sweet smell filled the air around him. He retched harder until something finally came up.
Thin.
Light.
Soft.
“Nagi stared at his hand. Tiny yellow fragments fell into his palm, others scattering across the floor around him.
Petals.
When Nagi looked up at his mother, her face had gone pale. But before Nagi could say anything to reassure her he was fine, another violent cough tore through his chest. Something larger forced its way up his throat. He felt his mother pull him closer, rubbing his back.
Something slipped past his lips.
A small flower fell onto the floor between them.
Bright yellow.
A daffodil.