Girl group oneshots

Flowers (Sakai Moka)

You love flowers, so I brought some.

It was a rainy afternoon in Tokyo when I first met Moka. The city was enveloped in a soft mist, the kind that made everything feel ethereal and distant. I had sought refuge in a small flower shop, a hidden gem tucked away in a quiet alley in Omotesando. The shop was filled with vibrant blooms, their colours contrasting beautifully with the greyness outside. I have visited the flower shop ever since.

*****

Moka was arranging a bouquet when I walked in. She had a grace about her, a quiet elegance that drew me in. Her fingers moved deftly among the petals, creating a masterpiece with each touch. I momentarily watched her, mesmerized, before she noticed me and offered a warm smile.

"Can I help you find something?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing.

I hesitated, feeling a bit foolish. "I'm looking for a gift," I said, "for a friend's birthday."

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with understanding. "What does she like?"

"She loves flowers," I replied, glancing around the shop. 

"But I'm not sure which ones to choose."

Moka's smile widened. "I can help with that. What kind of person is she?" Anticipating traits that she wants to hear.

I thought for a moment, trying to put my feelings into words. "She's gentle, kind, and she has a quiet strength. She finds beauty in the simplest things."

"She's also the cutest person I know," I mumbled, following with an embarrassed expression. 

Moka's expression softened, and she began selecting flowers with care. "I think I know just the thing." She put together a bouquet of lilies, daisies, and soft pink roses, arranging them in a way that seemed effortlessly perfect.

"Thank you," I said as she handed me the bouquet. 

"It's beautiful."

She looked pleased. "I'm glad you like it. I hope she does too." She chuckled. 

I hadn't planned on buying flowers for Moka that day. In truth, the bouquet was meant for her birthday in a few days, but something about the way Moka arranged the flowers, and the way she spoke with such passion about each one, made me wish I could give them to her sooner.

I found myself returning to the flower shop often, not just for the flowers, but for the company of the enigmatic florist who had captivated me. Each visit was an opportunity to talk to her, to share stories and dreams, and to steal a glance at her working magic among the blooms.

It seemed like fate.

One sunny afternoon, as I was leaving the shop with yet another bouquet, Moka called out to me. 

"Y/N, wait a moment."

I turned, surprised. "Yes?"

She looked a little nervous but smiled. "I was wondering... would you like to have coffee with me sometime?"

I felt my heart leap. 

"It will be my honour." I smiled.

We met the next day at a quaint little café, its garden filled with blooming flowers. As we sat among the blossoms, I handed her a small bouquet I had picked out.

"You love flowers, so I brought some," I said, feeling a bit shy.

She smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. 

"Thank you, Y/N. They're lovely."

Our conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared stories. Moka had a way of making the simplest things seem extraordinary. She told me about her childhood in a small village, where she first fell in love with flowers, and I shared my own memories, finding a deep connection between us.

As we walked through the streets of Tokyo, exploring hidden gardens and quiet parks, our bond grew stronger. Moka's love for flowers was infectious, and I began to see the world through her eyes, appreciating the delicate beauty in every petal and leaf.

One evening, as we sat by the river watching the city lights flicker in the water, Moka turned to me with a wistful expression. 

"Y/N, do you ever think about the future?"

"All the time," I replied, taking her hand in mine. 

"And I hope it includes you, my princess," I said confidently.

She smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of joy and sadness. 

"I hope so too."

But as with all beautiful things, our time together was fleeting. Moka fell ill, her vibrant energy slowly fading like the petals of a wilting flower. Despite her illness, she remained strong and graceful, finding solace in the flowers that surrounded her.

One rainy day, as she lay in her hospital bed, I brought her a bouquet of her favourites. She smiled weakly, her fingers gently brushing against the petals.

"You love flowers, so I brought some," I said, my voice choked with emotion.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filled with a sadness I couldn't bear to see. "They're beautiful."

I spent as much time with her as I could, holding her hand and talking about all the places we would visit when she got better. But deep down, I knew our time was running out.

One night, as the rain pattered softly against the window, Moka looked at me with a tender expression. 

"Y/N, promise me you'll keep living your life to the fullest. Find joy in the little things, like we always did."

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "I promise, Moka."

She smiled, a peaceful look in her eyes. "That's all I want."

Moka passed away a few days later, leaving a void in my heart that no flowers could fill. The flower shop felt emptier without her presence, its vibrant colours now a painful reminder of what I had lost.

On a grey, sombre morning, I stood by her grave, holding a bouquet of lilies, daisies, and soft pink roses. The rain fell gently, mingling with my tears as I placed the flowers on her headstone.

"You loved flowers, so I brought some," I whispered, my voice breaking.

At that moment, I realized that though she was gone, the beauty she had brought into my life would remain forever. Moka had taught me to find joy in the ephemeral, to cherish each fleeting moment. And for that, I will always be grateful.

You loved flowers, so I brought some.