flower language ✿ [dreamnap]

ch 3 ✿ blue

The first time it happened, Dream has to admit he was a little thrown off. Something about receiving notes and flowers in his locker felt... Elementary. Childish. But at the same time, it filled his stomach with butterflies.

He finds it all a little charming. How this person was in such a rush and so to the point, completely tactless and uncaring to romance him. The mistakes and scribbles across the page. Dream would argue this person putting in effort to make themself unattractive.

Feel free to throw this away.

Dream almost listened to those words. Actually, no. He did listen to those words, if only for a few passing moments. At the end of it all though, he felt bad and fished the note out of his statistic teacher's trash can, profusely apologizing to the jaded old man as he scurried away. He just couldn't will himself to break someone's heart, even if they'd never know.

He asked his mom if he could dump the pens out of one of their vases to keep the flowers. They're nice, in his opinion. And they mean new beginnings. Dream needs one of those.

He taped the note to his wall after leaving it under a few books as some feeble attempt at smoothing it out again. It would never be the same pristine, smooth white it was before, but Dream supposes that's just another thing he gets to fuck up in his lifetime.

Other than that though, he didn't really address things in his romantic life, or lack there of. He knew how his school worked, that it was as easy as putting some sort of tweet, asking if anyone was leaving notes at his locker, but that was problematic in it's own right. Causing chaos this late into the year wasn't what he wanted. He did want closure, but was sure this person just wanted to let it out and never talk about it ever again. That was fine by him.

With that said, he couldn't stop grinning to himself the second time it happened.

The second time he saw a note in his locker, he worked his damned hardest not to scream with joy. They're back, and even if the note was just as short and strange, Dream couldn't help but feel giddy for knowing this person bothered to talk to him again.

He figures that's why he's so determined to find out who this is. It's been another week with no note, which is slightly depressing, but he's been busying himself with other things while he waits. Mostly walks around the city, searching for flower shops that sell poppies and daisies in little bunches such as the ones he received.

He's not stupid enough to assume any old clerk would let him go through customers, rifling through until he found a familiar name, but he could at least get a general feel of who could of given him the flowers. So far, after five days of wandering the city for red and white flowers, he's came out empty handed.

He's also learned there are a lot of flower shops in the city, something he didn't anticipate when he started. In a five mile radius from the high school, he counted seven so far, all of which told him they didn't sell flowers like that. Well. Number eight.

Shop eight is the smallest establishment he's run into, shoved between a suspicious looking bodega and an arcade that got shut down recently. This area isn't his favorite place to be, as SMP street is always crowded and always a little too loud. Still, he pushes on and walks through the doors.

"Welcome." A dry, monotonous, familiar voice greets him, causing Dream to look up at the counter. Well, this is a shocker.

"George?" He tests, watching blue and brown eyes tilt towards him. Yep.

"Dream?" The other mirrors his tone, a smile tugging helplessly at his lips. The aforementioned blonde grins back, prompting George to scoff and turn away again, "I didn't expect a visit from my least favorite freshman today."