𝓌orship 𝓂e ! | dreamnotfound

i. a dream

George, honestly, didn't mind his job that much. Sure, it could get rather dull, but working in a flower shop wasn't the worst thing in the world. He could never see flowers too many times, he could never tire of their sweet fragrance. Each one was a delicate bloom, no matter if it was found in a formal garden or a waste land. Their petals were simply delicate works of art. He would guess it wasn't just him that felt that way though, since they were never short of business. People would come quite often, for a wide range of reasons. Perhaps to bring flowers to the hospitals and graveyards, perhaps to send them to express love, or maybe to plant them in their yards. There is something about their beauty people just need, to be fully human, George assumed everyone was a bit like that. Without the flowers it would only be concrete; no color, no nothing.

The bell hung above the door tinkles gently as someone enters, and George is nudged out of his thoughts as a man walks in confidently, his first customer of the day. He straightens his apron, looking up at him.

"Clay?"

"Good morning, George," Attraction swirls between the two of them, like invisible ropes. "How have you been?"

"I missed you." He walks out from behind the counter, a smile resting upon his face.

"I'm here to buy white roses. Do you have any in stock?" Clay asks politely, reaching his hand out for George to take. The brunette takes ahold of his hand, lacing their fingers together before nodding and taking him near the front of the store. The white roses stand with full pride as if their petals were perfected the finest of sculptures, formed by the hands of an artist. Clay picks one up, taking in it's delightful fragrance.

"You always pick such strange flowers, y'know," George comments, peering over at the roses curiously. "I mean, there are much more colorful ones... Why white roses?"

"Well, Darling, do you know the meaning behind white roses?" Clay hands the flower to him with a soft grin, and George begins to inspect it. Each petal hugged around the rose bud, protective of its centre. It was rather embarrassing, but George had no clue what flowers represented. He felt like he should, since he is a florist. Clay decided to take George's silence as a no, so he continues to say; "They often represent purity, and innocence, but it also represents new beginnings. And, everlasting love."

"Oh." George looks up at him, a quiet sigh leaving him. He couldn't help but frown at that; at 'everlasting love'.

"What's wrong?" The blond asks, tilting his head slightly.

"I just wish you really existed. I know that I'm dreaming right now - you're not actually real. You're just some kind of recurring dream." This was true; Clay would always, for some unknown reason, appear in every single one of George's dreams. He didn't know whether it was a curse or a blessing. At first, George was confused as to why this unknown man would constantly be in his dreams; but over time, they had fallen in love. He was absolutely smitten with Clay. The attraction between the two of them was like a tangible thread in the air, though none of them were speaking a word.  They just stared at one another. The white rose had vanished like it was never there in the first place, like the whole thing had been some kind of sick, visual joke. Clay clicked his tongue, his hand hovering over the roses before selecting another one. He casted his eyes around the store at the flowers, listening to the atmosphere. Then when recalled he was holding something he looked down to find only white petals, which he instinctively released into the breeze and watched them float away. Everything in the dream was disappearing at a fast rate; George was going to wake up soon.

"Be patient for me, my love." Clay manages to say, before the rest of the store begins to disappear around them. However, the only thing George was focused on was the look on Clay's face. It was serious, it was loving; the only thing the brunette could do was nod.